Chapter 82

"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was empty!"

It was a good line. Probably one of the better ones he'd heard. But Loghain was a better speaker as far as Aedan was concerned. And had realistic goals. The Asshole, or Corypheus as he called himself, wanted to become a god. Nobody would look at Corypheus and say, 'Yes, this is what my god will look like – a rock wrapped in flesh.' The Red Templars would have to be high on lyrium to – oh wait.

The situation was far from being comedic, however. Corypheus had practically confessed to being one of the seven Tevinter magisters who'd entered the Black City. That put him on the same footing as the Architect. But Corypheus had an archdemon. And had hurled the Herald like a doll at a trebuchet.

He went on with his monologue. Psychopaths sure liked their monologues. Always so certain that they were in control of a situation, never once bothering to scan the environment. You never knew what was hiding behind a boulder.

The Herald's bow was good. In top condition. It was heavy, built for war, and didn't make a noise as Aedan drew the string. The archdemon walked beside Corypheus like a giant mabari. It was the most immediate threat, and Aedan took aim and loosed. He watched the arrow fly into the dragon's eye, watched it scream and shout and try to scratch at the shaft protruding out of its eye socket.

Then he shot out from behind his hiding place. Corypheus had, by then, noticed his presence. Tracing the trajectory of an arrow wasn't hard, and the magister was no novice. He raised his orb-free hand, palm facing outward, and prepared to throw a spell as his dragon thrashed about.

Avernus' potion nullified, Aedan no longer had the enhanced physical attributes it had offered him. They had been helpful, and for ten years he'd made good use of them, but he didn't need them.

Aedan Cousland was no novice either.

He drew his sword in a quick motion and slid on the snow, one leg bent and the other extended, the spell flying through the air where his chest had been.

Aiming for centre mass. How orthodox.

Aedan slid right between the darkspawn's legs, drawing the edge of his sword along Corypheus' shin as he came out behind him. The magister growled, stamping his foot. Aedan halted his skid, and, turning, stood upright. Then, jumping, he impaled Corypheus through the back, burying his blade hilt deep. The Cousland family blade, reforged with the strange star metal and archdemon bones by master smith Wade, could cut through mostly anything.

"Returning the favour," he whispered in Corypheus' ear as the magister gurgled. Then he placed his feet on his back and pushed, pulling his sword out and moonsaulting through the air to land on his feet. He pivoted and sidestepped the lunging jaws of the dragon. With his left hand, he grabbed the arrow shaft and hauled himself up, stabbing his sword into the dragon's temple to make another handhold.

"You mongrel!" Corypheus boomed angrily as Aedan hauled himself on top of the dragon's head. "You dare touch an incarnation of divinity? You dare touch me?!"

He held onto one of the dragon's many horns and drove the blade into the base of the dragon's skull. Archdemon or no, Aedan had put enough dragons to sleep to know how to cause temporary paralysis. As the great lizard collapsed on the snow at Corypheus's feet, Aedan, standing tall atop the dragon's head, looked down steadily at the magister.

"You fucked with the wrong guy, asshole," he said plainly.

"You maggot-"

Aedan caught the Herald's eye and nodded. She wasted no time and kicked the trebuchet's mechanism, making it shoot its load into the mountain one last time. Corypheus stopped his spiel and rounded on the Herald, who began to run.

Smart girl.

Sword ready, Aedan ran down the dragon's snout as it raised its head, and jumped down to the ground. He watched Corypheus' face, watched the glint of his sword reflect off the magister's eyes. He raised his sword. Corypheus held out his arm. The dragon screeched.

Aedan twisted his body like a corkscrew as he descended, avoiding the spell thrown his way. The spin, along with gravity helping him descend, added to his own considerable swing strength, made for a ridiculously lethal slash. It would have lopped the head right off a qunari. The magister's spindly arm was no contest.

But he didn't stop to celebrate. Aedan ran as soon as he landed on his feet behind Corypheus. The mountain had started rumbling, and very soon Haven would be buried under a fuckton of snow. He didn't want to be around when that happened.

The wingbeats of the dragon came to his ears, drowning out the magister's howling. Aedan glanced back and caught sight of the dragon carrying its master away. Whether he'd regrow his lost limb, Aedan didn't know.

But he did know where he was going.

"Into the mines!" the Herald called to him and they both made a dash for the entrance. The avalanche growled like rumbling thunder close at his heels and Aedan dropped into the mines a few seconds before the slide of snow covered it completely.

Aedan met the hard ground with his left shoulder and felt it snap out of its socket. He grunted and rolled onto his back, panting.

I miss the Warden stamina.

"Are you okay?" asked the Herald. She hadn't landed far. "I heard a crunch."

"I'm fine," he replied. "Just wishing I was dead instead."

She chuckled. Aedan tried not to move. He was getting old.

"You never told me who you were."

"I said I'd tell you if you killed the dragon."

"You have seriously high standards."

"Higher than those already upon you?"

She said nothing to that. Aedan groaned as he sat up, holding his hanging arm. He took a deep breath, pulled it apart and let go, allowing it to snap back in place. He bit through the pain and sat back against a rock, panting anew.

"You look like you've done that before."

Aedan snorted. "Everyday stuff."

"Fighting the way you do... is that also everyday stuff?"

"When you're me, yes."

"And the bow?"

"My mother taught me."

"Not bad, for a shem."

"Ar eolasa," he replied with a smile. The Herald sat up.

"You speak elvehn?" she asked in her tongue.

Aedan nodded. He hadn't spoken it in a while. "I've had to learn. Are you hurt?"

"I think I sprained my ankle."

"Can you walk?"

"I... don't know."

Pushing himself to his feet, Aedan sheathed his sword. He went over to Ellana and knelt by her feet. Her left ankle was swollen but bone hadn't broken the surface. If there was a fracture, she'd let him know.

Even so, he removed her boot carefully. It was a sprain. Not a bad one, but putting weight on it would make it worse.

So after replacing the boot, he put an arm under her knees and another around her shoulder and scooped her up. She looked scandalised. Aedan shrugged.

"There'll probably be nasties down here. Stay ready."

He needn't have worried. Any demons lingering in the old catacombs Ellana dispatched with her mark. The real challenge was carrying her through a blizzard once outside. The cold closed in like a vice, clinging to his very bones. Ellana wasn't very heavy, but with biting winds, zero visibility, and with waist-high falls of snow numbing his extremities, Aedan found it hard to make progress.

The girl was tired. Her head was unprotected and she was burrowing into his chest, trying to gather whatever warmth she could. She'd covered her hands with her sleeves but frostbite was a real problem in the Frostbacks, especially with exposure of this level.

Aedan wanted to make sure she didn't pass out, but keeping her awake would mean talking, and that meant swallowing snow. Even so, it was a risk well worth taking.

"My name's Aedan. Aedan Cousland."

She stirred, but said nothing. Aedan glanced down at her. It was better than looking forward. He had no clue where he was going, but moving was better than standing still. His arms were starting to shake and Aedan grimaced. Even a feather got heavy if held out for hours. Time made anything heavy.

"It must be hard, being thrust into situations where you have to fight and lead people against an evil much greater than you," he said in between pants, not sure if she heard him. But it gave him something to do, something to focus on, something to help him stay conscious. "Everyone will expect great things from you while you have no idea what to do."

"I'm scared."

She was shivering. Her body was losing heat fast. But she was still speaking. That was good enough.

"Hmm?"

"He frightens me."

"Corypheus?"

"Yeah."

"What else?"

"Making d-decisions. What if I'm w-w-wrong?"

"You'll have to live with it."

"That's h-hard."

"I know. You'll have to be strong enough to do that. Taking responsibility is not for the weak."

"I'm afraid. And c-cold."

"We're almost there," he lied. "Hang in there. People are waiting to meet you with hot tea."

"I never asked for this. I'm not s-some Herald."

"I don't know about that. All I know is what I've seen. And I see a strong, brave, selfless girl." He couldn't feel his face anymore. "I can believe that."

"Did you hear th-that?"

"What?" he asked. Then he heard it. The howling wind brought with it the howling of wolves. Perfect. "Oh."

"I'm s-s-scared, Aedan."

"Be brave."

"Aren't you scared?"

"No."

"H-how?"

"I don't know how to be scared anymore. I have nothing left to lose. It's easy for me to be brave."

"C-can we be b-brave when we're scared?"

"It's the only time we can be brave, Ellana."

He had no idea for how long he had walked, but finally the wind died down. Peppered snow clung to his face still but he trudged on. Though he couldn't feel much of anything, Aedan could see now. That fuelled him onwards.

"Are we there yet?"

"Almost. Are you cold?"

"Yes."

"Hang in there."

The wolves kept singing. Coming closer, going away. They were playing their game. Toying with their prey. Making their presence felt. Aedan kept going. There was nothing else he could do. He was locked in the rhythm of movement, sure that his body would continue to work even if he fell asleep on his feet.

That sounds like a good idea right about now.

But then, he stopped. Before him lay a narrow path between two mountains. On the other side, he could see the orange tint of dancing flames.

A camp. People. Help.

Aedan kept walking. The flames got closer with every step.

"Ellana? We're here."

Nothing.

"Ellana? You awake?"

No response.

"Wake up and I'll tell you who I am."

A snore. Aedan smiled to himself. The little twitch of his lips made crusted snow crack and fall off his face. He couldn't stop the smile. People were coming. He heard voices. They were coming.

When they came, shouting their thanks up at the Maker, Aedan handed Ellana over to the bald elf, who looked distraught and relieved in equal measure. Then he kept walking forward.

He couldn't stop. He had done his job. He had gotten the girl to safety. Mission accomplished. His mind, which had stayed awake just to see his objective through, finally went to sleep.

But he couldn't. Though his body wanted to go on, his legs collapsed and he fell to his knees. He planted his right foot on the snow and tried to push himself up, but failed. His knee met the snow and he pitched forward.

Finally, defeated by the limits his body had imposed on him, Aedan Cousland could walk no more.