Chapter 136: Rage and Faith
As it turned out, the orphanage was not as bad as Alim had thought…
Eight, nine, and now you die. Tee hee, ha ha, ha ha heh!
The elf shuddered. The mocking voice of a dead child, or at least a demon pretending to be a dead child chilled him to the bone.
He took a deep breath.
The orphanage was not as bad as he thought…
It was worse.
They had only just stepped through door when he realized that the veil had been torn to shreds here. The brutality of what had been done here, say nothing for the Tevinters working so close by and brought something evil into this world. Echoes of what had come before now wandered the dark halls, spectral children ran down collapsed hallways, a giggling ghost tried to attack them with a meat cleaver before fading back into nothingness, packs of dogs, driven mad by their proximity to the demons flooded the halls.
Alim hated killing the poor creatures, but by that point, what they had once been…was gone, they were just slavering weapons being used to try and defend the creatures that were hiding in here.
The warden mage shook his head.
All he could do for them now, was give them a painless death.
Alistair and Ser Otto did what they could to weaken the demons. A couple of times they encountered shades and other creatures, the demons seemed to be drawing off of the nightmares of the party. Several took the shapes of the abominations that they had dealt with in the Circle tower.
Alim tried to remain focused, but with the veil sundered, he could hear the demons so clearly, all of them whispering in his head, demanding that he give into them. Sometimes when he looked into one of the abandoned rooms, he could see his cell in Fort Drakon, could hear the guards coming for him…
In those moments, the fear almost overwhelmed him. It took all his self-control to keep from fleeing from those rooms screaming.
He started to fear that Loghain and his men had broken him after all, that he would never recover from what he had suffered in that place. Fear quickly turned to rage, rage at Loghain, the demons, and the unfairness of everything he had seen over the last year.
It was then that he almost gave into rage; almost let the demons have him.
Almost…
Don't, don't you dare!
The words were in his head, his will trying to keep him grounded, keep him focused on the here and now.
You've suffered, sure, but if you lose it now, you will hurt the others; you will hurt your friends…
You will hurt Leli.
His eyes narrowed.
That thought was just what he needed.
He gripped his sword and staff tighter. His eyes flared with lightning.
It was time to end this.
Alim growled, and lunged forward, the kind of growl that even Bandit would have been proud of. He let his magic take him, he glowed as he leapt into the heart of the fray, his sword and staff flashing with barely contained lightning. The demons, those pretending to be abominations from the circle tower were no match for his fury. He felt a slight breeze coming through one of the cracks in the old building, he whispered to it with his Stormbreaker abilities, daring the wind to show him what it could do, to blow away the foul creatures that were even now trying to crawl towards them out of the smoke and ash caused by the destruction of this place months ago.
The wind responded to his summons, it whipped around the demons rattling the walls, and shaking the window frames. The echoes of the voices of elven children fell silent under the onslaught, while Alistair and the others engaged the few demons who dared to crawl out of the shadows.
The warden mage snarled as he felt the evil retreating, trying to find some place to hide from his power. Part of him wanted to go racing after it, to finish what he had begun…
"Alim?"
Leliana placed a hand on his shoulder; the concern in her voice brought him back from the edge, the place where power and insanity met…
He looked into her eyes, they were full of worry.
"Are you alright dearest?"
He took a deep breath, centering himself.
He smiled weakly.
"Yeah…yeah…I'm…I'm fine," he said, "Just…just had to blow off a little steam."
Behind them, Alistair chuckled.
"Remind me to stay back the next time that happens," he said, he ran his fingers through his spikey hair.
"This is never going to sit right again, I fear."
Alim chuckled.
Ser Otto joined them, if the Templar was worried about Alim's display of power, he did not show it.
The man was actually smiling.
"We have done it," he said, "The evil is retreating."
He turned his gaze on Alim.
"I used to think myself quite the warrior, but you warden…you are something else."
Alim snorted at that, whether it was a dig or a compliment he could not truly say.
"It isn't over," he reminded the almost blind Templar.
Otto nodded.
"Indeed, we have pushed the evil back, it is weakened, but it has not been destroyed or fled this world."
The old Templar motioned with his mace.
In there, he pointed to a fire blackened door.
"In there we shall find the source of this evil and with the Maker's blessing a chance to end it for good and all."
Alim nodded, and adjusted his hat. He looked down at the dwarven longword he was using, the blade had held up well enough, but it showed signs of damage from striking the hides of the demons.
His eyes narrowed.
He really missed spellbinder. In the near future, he was going to have to find a new sword, a better one, one more suited to the kinds of combat that they were forced to endure.
Alim's elven ears lowered slightly.
He would not be able to face the Archdemon with an inferior blade.
When the time came he would need all the weapons available to him. That fight would not be just another battle, but something far more.
One thing was certain he thought, the next time he saw the Archdemon…
…only one of them would be walking away from that fight alive.
IOI
Pain.
It was something that Leliana knew a great deal about. She did not need magic to see it in her love's face, to see it…in his eyes.
The bard shook her head.
Her Alim…her dearest love…was in great pain.
It was pain that she could understand, even though it was almost three years past now, she still remembered her brief stay in the Arl of Denerim's dungeon. She still remembered the feel of Marjolaine's blade in her side, and Commander Raleigh's cruel laughter as the man subjected her to the kinds of torment that only a man such as he would find…amusing.
Her fingers curled into angry fists at the mere memory of it, and of how helpless she had felt after. She remembered laying in her cell sobbing pathetically. She had been lost, and had almost been ready to be forgotten, that was before Dorethea had come to her, before her dear friend and mentor had given her a way out, a way to fight her way out of the darkness.
Even now she could see Dorethea's care worn face, feel her hand on her shoulder, filling her up with her quiet strength.
Faith, she thought, it was the first time I truly discovered it, the first time I let myself feel it.
Leliana looked at Alim, even though her warden had escaped Fort Drakon, he would never truly be rid of it, such places scarred the soul, and took away something from anyone who passed through its hard stone walls.
Alim, he was not like her. He did not give himself over to faith, to let the Maker's love to comfort him after his time in Fort Drakon. He was trying to step back into his life like nothing had happened. She knew that that was not possible.
She frowned as he stepped forward toward the next door, the door that Ser Otto claimed that the evil they were facing fled through.
Leliana tightened her fingers around the hilts of her blades. The halls of orphanage were too small for her to use her bow effectively, though she preferred to strike from a distance, she was no stranger to close quarters combat.
She knew that Alim would never be able to give himself over to faith. That was not insult, merely an acknowledgement of who her lover was. Alim had always required more tangible signs of love and companionship. He would fight for an ideal, but he would go to war without hesitation to save someone or something he loved.
That was the man she had fallen in love with, that was the strength that kept her going that convinced her they needed to fight on. She recognized the fact that before all this was over, he would likely need her love and support.
When that time came, she would be there for him. She would stand at his side, to whatever end may come.
She would be there…for him.
The warden mage did not simply open the door, but blasted it open with his powers. The wind spun forward, as if to clear any enemies from their path.
An angry roar split the shadows.
"FLEE MORTALS! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!"
Ser Otto ignored the command; he dropped to his knees the chant of light emerging from his throat, casting back the darkness.
The disembodied voice snarled in anger and disgust.
"Spare me your pedantic chant, Templar. You and yours have slaughtered my brood. Now…you will answer for it."
Ser Otto rose to his feet, weapons in hand.
"In the name of the Maker," he shouted, "I demand that you show yourself demon."
The voice chuckled.
"The Maker? Foolish little man, there is no Maker. There is no golden city…."
A book rose from the ashes and floated towards Otto. The voice dropped to a cruel purr.
"But…there are demons, oh yes, there most certainly are demons."
Ser Otto refused to be intimidated, he swatted the book away.
"Spare me your blasphemy creature, I demand that you step into the light and face your final judgment!"
Suddenly, the room brightened, it was filled with bright rose-red light. The floor boards shook beneath their feet as every torch in the room blazed violently to life.
"You wish to see me," the demon growled, "Well…I shall grant your wish now! WORM!"
The floor boards before them ignited as a rage demon rose from floor, the creature, having gorged itself for months on the pain and anger that festered in this place was twice the size of any rage demon any of them had seen before.
Leliana heard Jowan gasp in fear behind her, but to his credit, the blood mage did not run.
The high rage demon reached out with burning claws for Ser Otto.
Leliana did not give it a chance to seize him.
She swiftly sheathed her blades and drew her bow; this room was large enough that she could get off a shot without risking the others.
She fired a single shot; the feathers from the arrow left a small red mark on Ser Otto cheek as it flew by.
The arrow struck the rage demon in the eye, it did not kill the beast, but demon roared in pain.
In that moment the world seemed to spin out of control, the wreckage scattered around them room exploded into the air. A chuck of wood struck Leliana in the head, while the room filled with both heat and fire.
She heard the creature roar in pure unadulterated fury!
"YOU SHALL DIE!"
The bard screamed…
…and everything went dark.
IOI
"Leli?"
She heard the voice echoing as if coming from the end of a very long hall.
Leliana struggled to find her way out of the shadows, fought to step back into the light.
"Allow me my dear," Another familiar voice said, "You are still recovering."
Suddenly she felt warmth flowing through her, like a pair of helping hands it drew her out of the darkness. She did not even try to resist.
Wynne, she thought with a slight smile.
Good old Wynne.
Finally…she was able to open her eyes.
Leliana groaned she was lying on the floor of the orphanage. Alim and Wynne were both kneeling beside her. The elf wore a worried look that quickly morphed into a sigh of relief when she met his eyes and smiled weakly.
"Hello," she murmured.
He smiled back.
"Hello to you too."
She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over her.
"Easy, my dear, easy," Wynne warned.
"Your head was struck quite hard.
The bard sighed.
Why did everyone they faced try to strike at her head?
It was most annoying.
As Wynne continued to let healing magic flow into her, she finally noticed the state they were all in. Everyone seemed to be covered in ash and soot. Even Alim's white coat looked gray in low light.
The fiery red glow had dissipated; she could just make out the shapes of the others as they recovered around them.
The bard frowned.
The memory of their encounter with the rage demon returned, the creature lashing out at them.
"The demon?" she asked.
"Dead," Alim responded, "And we almost joined the bastard in death. The thing must have been preparing a spell while it was taunting us."
The elf shook his head.
"We were almost all burned alive."
Wynne glanced up.
"Jowan managed to shield us," the elder mage said.
"Jowan?" Leliana glanced up in surprise.
The blood mage was currently assisting Carver, healing a small gash over his right eye. He noticed her look and turned away quickly.
"It was nothing," he said quickly, "Just acted quicker than the rest."
He shook his head.
"No need to make a saint out of a sinner."
She noticed that Jowan was the only one of them not covered in ash, his new clothes looked pristine, except for a few splatters of blood.
Her eyes widened.
Blood?
She looked again at Alim.
"How did he…?"
The elf shook his head.
The demon killed Ser Otto," he said sadly, "Rammed a chunk of debris through his back…"
Alim sighed.
Jowan was able to use his life energy to create a shield to protect us from the fire. Not the way I would have done things, but…it worked.
The Bard glanced again at Jowan. The blood mage refused to meet her eyes. He had saved them, most of them…but…
She looked around trying to find Ser Otto's body, the half-blind Templar had come here to do his duty, and sadly had died in the process, but…in giving his life he had saved the rest of them.
Was there anything we could have done?" she asked Alim, "To save Ser Otto?"
The warden mage frowned.
"I don't think so," he responded.
Wynne sighed.
"It was not the method I would have preferred, but it gave us the time we needed to finish what we came here for."
The elder mage also looked at Jowan, he continued to move from one person to the next, checking their injuries.
"We could not have saved that poor man," Wynne continued, "But I like to think that he would have been glad that he had been able to save us all in his final moments."
Leliana frowned.
Blood magic was said to be evil, but here…it had saved their lives. Jowan had done what needed to be done, and now they would live to fight another day.
The bard sighed.
She believed Wynne and Alim's take on the situation. It was sad what happened to the Templar, he would be remembered she would make sure of that, the chantry would know that he died doing his duty, that he gave his life for theirs.
It was the least they could do.
"Jowan?" she called out.
The mage looked up from his work with Kally.
"Yes?" he said.
Leliana gave him a weak smile.
"Thank you."
Jowan blushed slightly, and returned to his work.
The bard struggled to her feet; Alim helped her until the last bit of dizziness passed. The room they were standing in was all but destroyed.
Alistair stood in the far corner; he had found something on the floor.
He picked it up and put it in a pouch on his belt.
She could not tell exactly what it was, but she thought it a medallion or an amulet of some kind.
She gave him a curious look.
The former Templar turned warden shrugged.
"For someone outside," he said, "Hopefully it will help her."
The bard nodded.
She looked around at her companions.
Had the Tevinters help cause this? They would likely never know, but one thing was certain, they had done to the Maker's work today.
Through courage and sacrifice, evil had been pushed back, rage had ended, and with the Maker's love, they had triumphed, just as she had hoped they would.
She smiled slightly.
Perhaps there mission was not as daunting as she thought.
We can do it, she thought.
I have faith.