And Rise: Chapter 9

Each step made the cold worse. Frost edged at her armor and the tips of her ears, but Cauthrien pushed through it, sidling down the steep stairs.

"There's a small chamber before the door to the stairs you were on," Nathaniel murmured just behind her. "If we're lucky, whatever this demon is, it will be there."

"I'm not looking forward to the drop, otherwise." She didn't glance back, pushing ever onward. The dark before her and the cold around her made it easier to ignore the thought of him. Even with the spell broken, it was all too tempting to fall back to thoughts of him. His touch had felt good, and right, and in another place- another time-

She shook her head. Howe, she reminded herself. Monster.

Behind her Nathaniel hummed thoughtfully. "If it comes to that," he said, "I will get you down safely."

"A trick of the blood?"

"Yes." He chuckled as they came to the door at the end of the passage. "As far as I understand it, at least."

"How much of it do you understand?" She glanced back at him then, and he was watching her. He smiled faintly, then nodded to the door.

"Another time, perhaps. Another night. These conversations should not be rushed, and-"

"The sun rises," she said. He nodded without a word. These conversations, she thought as she turned to the door again and readied herself. These conversations - of monstrosity, and of his father, no doubt. And perhaps of what had happened just those few minutes before-

She forced the door open.

Ice slicked the floor beneath her and she nearly fell with her first step, gritting her teeth and searching for her balance. An arrow sang past her ear and she looked to where he had fired, torch in her hand casting the barest light. It sputtered and wavered in the frigid wind circling her and drawing her forward, its light cast sharp and dancing over spikes of ice.

Howls came from the shadows, followed by a feminine laugh.

"Cauthrien!" Nathaniel shouted, and she jerked left, narrowly avoiding a ghoul as it howled passed, claws and teeth bared and seeking. She dropped to a crouch, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to focus. Three ghouls that she could hear, one more that she could see, and that laugh-

Cold slammed into her chest and sent her stumbling back, the torch going out as it fell from her hand. She felt her limbs freeze over, seize up and refuse to move for the power coursing through them and rooting her to the floor. She tried to thrash, tried to break its hold, tried anything. The ghoul had rounded; she could hear it skittering across the floor, coming closer and closer.

An arrow found home in bone with an unmistakable thunk, followed by a hoarse cry. Another arrow- another- and Nathaniel was at her side, hand on her shoulder for the briefest of moments.

"Conscious?" he whispered, fast and nervous, and his hand trembled.

"Caught- a spell-" she gritted out, and he cursed. She heard the draw of the bow, another arrow loosed. This time it was a woman's scream, and the spell shattered, leaving Cauthrien to cough and scramble to her feet. The ice beneath her, too, had begun to melt and fracture. She found purchase and launched herself forward into the dark.

She worked by sound and feel alone; she could only imagine that Nathaniel's blood-tainted eyes could see in the near absolute dark, the only light coming from the figure she closed with. Arrows flew, followed by howls, shrieks, the beasts faltering and falling in great roaring crashes. And in front of her, the figure of a woman, beautiful face contorted in rage coming out of the gloom in a flash of brilliant light. Another spell caught her shoulder and Cauthrien faltered, swinging to the left and cutting up as she closed.

The demon caught her blade with a single upraised hand, no blood dripping from its purple flesh, and suddenly the purple faded, the curves turned hard, and Loghain frowned at her from across the narrow space between them.

But Loghain was dead, head rolling across the Landsmeet floor, and she-

"Fight it!" Nathaniel shouted. "Whatever it shows you, fight it!" His voice was hoarse and was followed by a sickening thud, a crack, a cry of pain. Cauthrien turned to look, but then Loghain's hand - the demon's hand - was on her wrist.

"Stand down, soldier," Loghain said. "You will be rewarded for your service."

Her fingers around the hilt of her blade loosened, the sounds of battle behind her falling away. Loghain watched her, calm and patient except for the tell-tale twitch just above the right corner of his mouth. He was tense. He wanted this of her. He demanded this of her. And oh, to rest- to not have to chase redemption for another night, another day-

She was so tired-

Cauthrien leaned into her lord's touch, eyes sliding half-closed. She was so tired; she had served her city for a whole day and a whole night, and so many before that, and yet nobody would ever know of this, nobody would ever know what she had thought. She was so tired-

"Cauthrien!"

The sound of Nathaniel's voice, distant and raw, reminded her for just a moment of the taste of his blood in her mouth. You must be tired, he had said, and she had been, she had been so tired, and then he had touched her and taken her pains away-

Loghain's grip on her wrist turned painful, wrenching, and the cold twisted too deep into her bones to ignore. She started and cried out, surging forward and stabbing deep with her blade. The steel passed too easily into Loghain's stomach, no care for the chevalier plate that he wore, and he stared at her with wide, pained eyes.

"You would betray me," he whispered, and tears stung her eyes.

"I would save you," she returned, and wrenched the blade up. The illusion fell away as the edge reached the demon's throat, as it howled and fell apart in a blast of power that sent Cauthrien falling backwards. She landed hard, sword lost to the dark, heaving and retching and trying desperately to roll onto her side. Loghain, killed by her sword. Loghain, rejected. Loghain-

The demon staggered forward, raising its hands and building power between them, crackling and over-bright in the dark. Cauthrien stared up at it, unmoving and helpless.

Light spilled over her with a thousand burning needles piercing every inch of her flesh, just as a final arrow passed from the dark and into its throat. Cauthrien screamed, helpless against the onslaught even as the demon crumpled, covering her eyes against it all even as sight and consciousness slipped, finally, from her grasp.

Cauthrien woke to sunlight, to her own narrow bed, and to a hundred aches and pains that sang to life as she turned her head.

She was home, as home as the barracks ever were, and she was alone.

There was no sign of Nathaniel; her bow was back where it had been, her armor on its stand, her sword set aside. No frost edged the metal, no blood stained her lips. The sun was high over Denerim, and as she rose her body creaked and protested.

But her shoulder hurt no more than all the rest, and her lip throbbed in a single spot. Her head spun with flashes of the night - was it only a night? - before, collapsed stone and howling beasts, endless cold and Loghain impaled on her blade, accusing and dying before her eyes. She shuddered, catching her hand against the edge of her desk for just a moment. She stared at it - pale and calloused and covered in small scars. She had killed a demon wearing her lord's face with that hand.

And she had pulled Rendon Howe's son hard against her and mapped the feel of his body, too.

Cauthrien pushed herself away from the desk, then hesitated. There was a piece of parchment, folded and addressed to her in scratched, unfamiliar script. She eased it open.

.

I'm sorry I couldn't be present when you woke. Simply writing this note brings me too close to the day. Know that we have both survived to fight again, and that the demons have been felled. I sealed the path down to the catacombs with more stone before I brought you out, and I hope that I was not too presumptuous in removing your armor.

I will leave in a few nights' time for Amaranthine, but I would like to speak with you again before that. I owe you your explanation, after all. If you will have my company, and you have the time, please be in your room tonight an hour after the sun sets.

If not, thank you for your assistance, and the knowledge you have given me. And may the Maker keep you safe.

Nathaniel Howe

.

She stared at the letter, tracing the lines of his signature with a light touch long after she had finished reading. Proof, then, that it had not been all a fever-dream after falling in the catacombs. Proof that it had happened. Proof that he was not human.

But she would wait for him, all the same.