**** Last chapter there was peril. This chapter: More peril! WARNING: this chapter contains graphic violence.****
Part 27
The God Killer
Whoever hit Astlyr in the head the final time knocked her clear out of consciousness and into the Fade. The Fade in the desert of very different than what she had previously experienced. Along with everything having that same, ugly, greenish tint, the sand around her, for as far as she could see, would not stop moving. Blown by intangible winds it rolled in and out like an unpredictable tide. One moment she stood above it on a rock, but in seconds she was buried up to her hips. Before she could panic or try to free herself the sand slid away again, leaving her in relative shallows.
Once she had determined that the sand was not going to drown her, she checked around for other signs of life. She remembered that her body in the other world was injured, but here she felt no pain. One of the happy side effects of the Fade. What happened in one place did not translate in the other unless demons were involved. Her eyes caught motion. Distantly something alarmingly large was moving across the horizon. It looked like a gigantic armadillo and she hoped it wouldn't look her way.
She raised her hand to check the anchor mark. Seemingly dormant. Again she took in her constantly shifting surroundings. Why was she here, she wondered as she watched a massive statue appear out of the sands. Dead, stone eyes stared at her for a long moment before it was lost again. "Cole?" she tried, already knowing that there would be no answer from the boy. He wasn't there, a part of her could sense it.
The more movement got her attention. Something was running towards her this time. A dark shape rushing over the top of the sands. Rising and falling with each rolling wave. One moment visible, the next hidden by a dune. She was aware as ever that she had no weapons in the Fade. No means of defense save her mark. She raised her hand, wondering if special motions could wake it, like a mage casting a spell.
"Astlyr! It is I," a familiar voice called.
Astlyr lowered her hand, watching as the dark shape drew nearer and resolved itself into one she knew. A black wolf with blue eyes shining like pinpoints of day from its dark face. "Fen'Harel," she affirmed as the wolf finally reached her. It transformed quickly into the elf she had already seen twice in the Fade. Tall, red haired, and proud of bearing. For a moment he merely blinked at her as though slightly dazed. Then he shook his head as if to clear it. Sand buried Astlyr up to her shins. Fen'Harel rode it upward and for a moment he was looking down at her.
"I am glad I found you," Fen said. "I was hoping I would able to draw you into the Fade with me. I saw them take you down."
"What's happening?" Astlyr snapped urgently, remembering the fight. It had taken her Fade-muddled mind a frustrating amount of time to recall that her people were likely in grave danger.
"The Venatori have captured you," Fen said, riding another wave of sand, this one larger than the last. Astlyr had to hold her arms up so they would not be buried.
"Captured? Since when do they do that? I killed their god, why would they keep me alive?"
"I am uncertain," Fen'Harel admitted. "Myfanwy and I managed to flee."
"To flee?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow.
"We were fighting near the edge of the camp. Daveth may have skill with earth magic, but he has never practiced with sand so I was of little use. Merely able to inconvenience our attackers. Especially overwhelmed as we were. When I saw that we were outmatched I took Myfanwy and ran."
Astlyr couldn't begrudge him his actions. If she had been able to, she would have called a retreat. Unfortunately they had been too well surrounded by the time she had gotten her head on her shoulders and her shield into battle. "How many Venatori are there?" She asked, her mind suddenly buzzing again. She was still alive, she could get them out of this.
"You whittled down their numbers considerably. From what I have seen of their camp perhaps twenty or thirty remain. I do not dare to draw near until we have formulated a plan."
"My men?" Astlyr asked, tensely.
"From my vantage I can see a large tent where I assume you are being kept. I have seen no sign of the bodies of our friends, so I can only speculate that they are alive and with you."
"Cole?"
"My guess would be that they have the boy trapped so he cannot teleport. As I entered the Fade I called out to him with my magics, but he did not answer. I do not know what they might have done to him."
Astlyr gritted her teeth, trying to push rising panic from her mind. She would know if he'd been killed, wouldn't she? As his Companion? "Are you hurt? Is Myfanwy?" she asked, forcing her mind to be logical, military.
"No. I have seen to our wounds with my magic," Fen'Harel reassured her. "Though where we are located now we have no water and little shade."
"So you can't wait around indefinitely," Astlyr muttered, more to herself than her companion as the sand swept up to pool around her knees again.
"Indeed not," Fen said, watching her with his intelligent eyes.
"So we need a plan," Astlyr said, rubbing her chin. Then she felt something odd. Her shin began to throb and there was a tugging at her mind, pulling her away from the conversation at hand. "What-?"
"No! Astlyr!" Fen'Harel reached towards her, as if that would do any good. For a moment she hovered between worlds, which was an unpleasant sensation to say the least, then found herself fully in the waking world.
Cullen was kicking her. Repeatedly and hard on the shin. "Astlyr," he said, his voice full of a desperation she hadn't heard in a long time. "Open your eyes, please! Please wake up!"
"Ouch," she mumbled.
Cullen stopped kicking. "Thank the Maker," the man breathed in obvious relief.
It took Astlyr a moment to come to a full understanding of her situation. Before anything else she noticed the pain. Just about everything hurt. From what she could see the Venatori had done the bare minimum to keep her from bleeding to death. Sloppy bandages were slapped on to her shoulder, legs, and she suspected, her head, which was pounding something fierce. It was difficult to focus her eyes. She could make out shapes more than anything. She tried to move her head to look around as best she could and something tugged at her throat, causing her to make a pathetic gargling sound.
"Easy," Cullen warned. Though he had stopped kicking her, he still kept a foot resting against her leg, as though to reassure her he was still there. "They've got you very efficiently trussed up."
Astlyr assessed, as best she could, the way they had bound her. She was laying on her side, one cheek pressed against sand. A sturdy seeming rope was looped around her neck, then ran down behind her. It knotted her wrists together at the small of her back and also held her legs bent so her ankles met her bound hands. If she moved too much, or tried to bring her head forward, she began to choke herself. She could barely twitch without tightening the noose. She swallowed, trying to think, but still struggling against the mire in her mind. All she could think to do was whisper: "report." And that she only did instinctively. She wasn't certain she could even process what Cullen might tell her.
"The Venatori have us," the commander said first. Were she in less pain she might have been sassy with him about this obvious statement, but she sensed he was being thorough. "You, myself and Varric have been tied up and placed in a large tent. From what I can tell there are at least two guards outside. I have seen and heard other movement beyond the tent flap, but not enough to get an idea of what they plan to do with us. I have heard raised voices. Arguing perhaps, which inclines me to think they don't know what to do with us."
Astlyr bit back the string of profanity perched at the tip of her tongue. Perhaps now was not the best time to blaspheme. She would need all the help she could get, and even human gods were not out of the question in this situation. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt very strongly as though she might like to be sick, but stifled it. "Are you wounded? Varric?"
"The dwarf is still unconscious," Cullen said as Astlyr tried to turn to see her friends. This only resulted in the rope digging cruelly into her throat. "He's got a nasty head wound and I won't like his color, but there's little I can do."
"You?"
"I'm fine."
"If you were fine we wouldn't be trapped. You'd be fighting our way out like a good hero." Perhaps her sass was coming back, just a little.
"Probably a cracked rib or two. I think one of my fingers is broken and, like you, they hit me on the head, though unlike you, they only had to hit me once." The templar admitted, though he kept his voice level, as though this were all part of the report. "You scared me, Astlyr. You've got so many wounds."
"The disadvantage of a good qunari bloodrage," Astlyr muttered darkly, "a bad qunari aftermath. Cole?" she was afraid to ask and terrified of the answer.
"I haven't seen him," Cullen said.
Astlyr swallowed hard. She had to be able to sense if he was dead. She just had to. "Please be alive," she whispered.
"So, what do we do?" Cullen asked.
"Damn," Astlyr suddenly remembered where she had just been. In the Fade formulating a plan with Fen until Cullen had started kicking her. She thought about admonishing him, but changed her mind. Her head hurt too much anyway. It would not be difficult to slip back into unconsciousness and hopefully back to the Fade for more planning.
Then the tent flap opened and light poured in. Astlyr's head exploded with pain and she tried not to cry out as he closed her eyes fiercely. She lay very still, fighting down the waves of dizziness that pulsed through her. She chomped down on her lip and tasted more blood. Cullen's foot did not move from its reassuring place against her shin, but she could tell he had changed position. Probably feigning unconsciousness.
She forced herself to go as limp as she could. She thought it might have been the hardest thing she had ever done. The rope bit mercilessly into her neck and wrists. She heard footsteps very near her head and someone kicked sand in her face. She was uncertain if it was intentional. Someone grabbed one of her horns, pulling her head up slightly. She couldn't help it, she let out a grunt. She hoped it would go unnoticed. The man holding her spoke in a rough tone. "We should slit her throat now. It'd be easy and we'd be rid of her for good and all." The man spat and Astlyr felt warm moisture on her cheek.
"And what would that gain us?" a second voice questioned. This one was gentler, though not by much. "Corypheus is dead. She killed him. She bears the mark where he could not." Someone was grasping at her hand now, trying to reveal her palm, but she was too awkwardly tied. The man gave up.
"She stole it from him," the first man snarled.
"Exactly," said the second, sounding triumphant. "She stole it. What sort of god could Corypheus be if a mere qunari could take something of his eh?"
"Oh gods, I've heard this enough from you already," groaned the first man, spitting again, though this time not on Astlyr. He did an insulting, high pitched imitation of his companion's voice. "If she can kill a god, maybe she is a god. Has anyone thought about that?"
"Well, have you?" the second man asked, taking his cohort's mockery in stride. "I mean, it makes sense. She just appeared, out of no where. Who was she? Where did she come from? How did she find her way to Coryphues at exactly the right moment to take the anchor? And she destroyed the orb as well. She's powerful, obviously. More powerful than that darkspawn pretender."
The spitter snarled and Astlyr heard a blow being struck, "Do NOT speak of Lord Corypheus in that manner!"
Scuffling, and more sand was kicked at Astlyr's face. She fervently hoped she would not be stepped on. Both men ended their brief fisticuffs, panting and growling. "It's not for us to decide anyway. The Magister will do that, once he is finished with the spirit creature."
Astlyr's blood turned to ice in her veins. Spirit creature? Surely they couldn't mean Cole! It took as yet unplumbed depths of fortitude to keep her lying still. She fought to keep her breath even. Her head pounded with the drumming of her heart. The two men left the tent, once again washing her with cruel light before the tent flap fell back into place. Astlyr opened one eye, careful. Then she opened the other, staring at the sliver of white light where the flap had not closed perfectly. "Fuck," she managed between gritted teeth. "I need to get back to the Fade. I need to come up with a plan and I can't think here."
"The Fade?" Cullen's voice was quiet, cautious.
She didn't have the energy to explain. "Yes," she said, simply. Then she felt something else. Something beneath the pain. A tugging sensation in her chest and a prickling in her hand. It was faint, but insistent. Her left palm tingled as though statically charged. Then a sound made her snarl like a wild animal. From outside the tent she heard the sound of Cole, crying out. Just one cry, but her body had a visceral reaction. Her hand jumped with a sharp pain and she tugged the ropes, jerking her own head back. She curled her lip, wondering if she could rage again and break her bonds, or if she would only break her own neck in the process.
"Whoa, easy!" Cullen was saying, obviously sensing her intent. "Astlyr," his tone was measured, calming, "go back to the Fade. Do whatever you need to do there to get us out of this. You can't help Cole in this state. Astlyr. Please."
His voice cut through her and she pulled back, letting the rage slip away. She tried not to think about Cole's cry. At least it meant he was still alive. The faster she retreated to the Fade, the sooner she could return at teach these Venatori bastards a lesson. She closed her eyes, willing her mind to calm. For once it as easy to slip away. Her aching body almost seemed to thank her as her consciousness drifted free from it again. The last thing she was aware of was Cullen's foot still touching her leg.
Back to the shifting sands. Back to the black and green, churning world of the Fade. Back to Fen'Harel. She was intensely grateful that he had waited for her, though his pale face shone with concern. "Are you well? What happened?" the god asked urgently, rushing over to her.
Astlyr gave her friend a brief overview of what she had experienced in the waking world. When she mentioned Cole Fen'Harel's face flickered with an anger that surprised her. It looked completely unnatural and wholly natural in the same moment. "Any thoughts on how to get ourselves out of this situation?" she asked.
"I did have one, while I was awaiting your return," the elf admitted, riding another sand wave easily. He little noticed as he rose and fell, his arms folded, his expression returned to one of contemplation. "How many demons do you suppose this group of Venatori could handle?"
Astlyr caught his meaning at once. "If I can get free I can open a rift in the middle of their camp!"
"It wouldn't be enough," Fen said, scanning the terrain. "There are many demons in the vicinity, and they will be drawn to the tear, but their attack must be immediate. If the Venatori are given any time to react, they will likely kill you on the spot."
Astlyr nodded, understanding but frustrated. She knew that even her odd, new, would-be worshipers would likely turn on her if they caught her actively trying to murder them with demons. A small smile played on her lips as she allowed herself to picture a large rage demon pulling the Venatori into pieces like cotton wool. Fen had to clear his throat to get her to focus. "What must be done is this," the god began, blue eyes flashing dangerously. "I must do my best to draw demons here, to where you will open a tear. In this way we will ensure that the attack will begin as soon as you rip open the Fade."
"I can help you," Astlyr said, trying to pull her legs free of the latest wave of green-hued sand.
"No," Fen'Harel frowned. "In this instance we must keep you far from the influence of demons. While none had never bested you before, this would be a highly inopportune time for one to manage such a feat."
"Couldn't one just as easily 'best' you?" she put her hands on her hips, painfully aware that no sword hung there. She had no magic, as Fen did, to defend herself in the Fade. Only her wits, and those made sorry substitutions for a good sword and shield.
Fen was giving her a confident smile now, "May I remind you, I am a god."
"So you say," she cocked a hip, for emphasis, to let him know exactly how seriously she took his godhood.
"So I do," his eyes sparked and there was a hint of mirth behind them. He might have enjoyed a good moment of verbal sparring with her, had the situation not been so dire, she suspected. "I will be alright," he assured her in a more level tone. "It will be a challenge, as I will also have to be the one to free you from your bonds." His expression told her that he would relish the challenge.
"What about Myfanwy?" Astlyr questioned, feeling as though she ought to be coming up with some part of this plan.
Fen'Harel shook his head, red curls dancing. They moved a touch unnaturally in the Fade, she noticed. "She would need to go into the camp. I can free you from a distance with magic. I shall find something on which you can cut your bonds and send it through the sand to you."
"More magic? But won't you need your mana to protect yourself from the demons here?"
Again there was a flash like lighting in his eyes. His raised his chin, cocky bravado seeming to have taken him over completely. "I have enough mana. Especially here," he said and she had to admit that his grin was convincing. "Myfanwy will have a part in this plan. She must create a distraction so that you and the others are able to free yourselves without notice. You shall have to open the rift far enough from our injured so that demons do not attack and kill them."
"Good point," Astlyr said, considering. "What's the camp layout, do you know?"
Fen'Harel stooped and drew in the sand with one finger. Surprisingly it was not instantly washed away by the constant shifting. She knew more of his magic was a work. "Here, this is the largest tent and where I believe they have you imprisoned. There are two smaller tents here and here, and a hastily built lean-to, to shade the animals, at the far end of the camp. I believe they have your weapons in this tent, but do not make a try for them unless you are certain you will succeed."
"It looks like the best place for the rift would be here-" Astlyr indicated a spot. Inwardly she was also planning her route to the weapons. There were going to be demons, she would need a sword. "If your map of the camp is accurate."
He took a moment to shoot her an appropriately insulted look before pressing on. "Alright. As soon as you are free, rush out of the tent to this spot and open a rift. If all goes to plan Myfanwy will have created a distraction to allow you the time you need. Once the rift is open I suggest you and the others retreat while the demons do their work."
"Right," Astlyr nodded, scowling at the map, memorizing it hastily. This was a highly risky endeavor indeed, and part of her liked that. While she was ever the tactical leader, a risky plan was often far more fun than a safe one. Here in the Fade it was easier to think it would all work out. Without her wounds and throbbing head. Then she felt that tug in her chest again and her palm prickled. "Dammit," she said, holding up her left hand to examine it.
"What is it?" Fen asked, concerned.
"It's Cole, I think," she admitted. "They're doing something to him and it's messing with our bond. At least I assume that's what's happening."
"Your bond?"
Astlyr gave Fen'Harel and extremely abbreviated version of the Spirit Companion situation. He listened, an unreadable expression on his face. His eyes looked distant, perhaps lost. All the bravado was drained from him, if only for a few moments. "I...I should know..." he hesitated, raising slender fingers to his temple. "I know those words. Know that feeling of..." He closed his eyes, wincing, then let his hand drop. "I have no time for lost memories now," he said, firmly. "We must enact our plan before something befalls our physical bodies. You must go back to the waking world and await the item I will send you to allow you to free yourself."
"Right," Astlyr said. "How do I do that?" There was no Cullen bruising her shin this time.
Fen'Harel sighed as though he thought her a bit dim, then stepped forward and reached up, touching her forehead lightly. It was as though he had shoved her brutally to the ground for now she tasted grit and pain surged through her body again. She had returned to the physical world and was regretting it more and more by the second. She made a little moaning sound which she had intended to be words.
"Astlyr?" Cullen's voice. Good. He hadn't passed out. Bless that man, she thought, reveling for the briefest of moments in the fact that he was hers.
She tried again to speak, and this time succeeded, telling him what she and Fen had come up with in a voice barely above a hiss.
"That's the plan? Summon demons? How badly did they hurt your head?"
"It will work," she shushed. "We just have to stay clear until the Venatori are dead, then I can easily mop up whatever demons remain."
"Oh. Easily," Cullen's voice was drenched in more sarcasm than she was used to from him.
"Have some faith in me," she retorted, wriggling her wrists experimentally. She hoped Fen'Harel would come through soon with something to cut her free. Everywhere the rope met her skin was rubbed raw. She desperately wished she could straighten her legs.
"I have all the faith in the world in you," Cullen said, and he sounded like he meant every word, which made Astlyr feel both loved and alarmed at the same time.
"Have you heard anything of Cole while I was out?" she asked. She needed to think about something besides the pain in her head, and the desperate worry for her spirit friend was a good start.
"I heard him cry out again," Cullen admitted, his voice gentle. "At least that means he's still alive."
"Or he was when he screamed," she mumbled, her heart feeling as though someone had replaced it with a hunk of rock. Not knowing where Cole was made the plan all the riskier. She could walk out of the tent and find that the Venatori had him tied up right where she planned to put a nice rift to the Fade. Could she get him clear in time? She thought of how terrified he must be, where ever he was, and her stone heart gave a sad little flop.
"Ouch," Cullen grunted.
"What?" Astlyr tried to look towards him and the rope bit into her throat. She brought her head back, choking.
"Something just stabbed me in the hand," His foot left her leg and she could hear him moving about to identify the object. "It's an arrow head with a bit of broken shaft. Half buried in the sand."
"Fen," Astlyr exhaled.
"What?"
"Fen'Harel sent it. Phase one of the plan, remember? We get free."
"Right," She heard Cullen moving more and then there was the steady rhythm of rope being slowly sawed through. "Couldn't have sent a dagger, eh?" Cullen complained as he worked on his bonds.
"Myfanwy must have needed hers," Astlyr said, waiting impatiently for her turn. Her chest tightened again and she forced down her worry as her hand prickled. Whatever they had been doing to Cole they were still at it, it seemed. She would murder them for it. Of this she was certain.
Cullen had gotten his arms free. Before working on his legs he crawled over to her, first cutting the rope that held her neck, then setting to work on her hands and feet. Finally able to look around Astlyr caught sigh of Varric across the tent from them. Cullen was right. He didn't look good. His face was white as parchment and there was a lot of blood crusted in his hair, down his face, and onto his shoulder. At least he did not seem to be actively bleeding any longer. They hadn't bothered to hastily bandage him as they had her. They must have decided he wasn't worth the trouble. They would pay for that too, she thought, gritting her teeth so fiercely she could hear the grinding sound they made.
And then her hands and feet were free. As her muscles loosened new pains came to her attention. Her left arm was going numb from the shoulder down where she had been struck by that arrow. The wound on her calf was probably full of sand, bandage or no. A hundred smaller cuts and bruises cried out for equal attention, but she managed to ignore them. Her marked hand still stung, an insistent reminder of her task.
Cullen loosed his legs then moved silently over to see to Varric. Outside Astlyr could hear raised voices. She could also make out the shadow of at least two guards silhouetted against the tent as they stood watch by the door. She fervently hoped Myfanwy's distraction would be a good one. Her hand prickled again as he tried to massage life back into her arm and stifled a snarl. She turned to watch Cullen cut the ropes free from the dwarf. The man was gentle, stopping to check for a pulse. Astlyr knew Varric was not dead, she could see the rise and fall of his chest, but he could still be in very bad shape. "Strong pulse," Cullen reassured her. "He's just got one hell of a head wound. I don't like that he's been unconscious for so long. It's not the best sign."
Cullen rocked back on his heels, gritting his teeth. "How are you?" Astlyr questioned. He had not been bandaged either, she noticed, but had also not bled as badly as Varric. The wound his his head was superficial and had likely only dazed him rather than fully knocking him out. He gingerly favored his side as he moved back to join her where she crouched. The both watched the door guards suspiciously as the voices outside grew louder. Obviously some disagreement was being had and no one was being quiet about it.
"I'll live," Cullen gave her a quick smile which managed to be reassuring.
Astlyr wished she dared to draw nearer the tent flap. To see if she could hear what was being said outside. Instead he hung back. Her head was swimming and every movement shocked her with a fresh stab of pain from one of her many injuries. She'd wait. Save her strength until the last moment. She curled her fingers into the veil, experimentally. Good. She felt it give like supple clay as he pressed her fingertips through. Tearing it would be as easy as ever. The anchor seemed to have little need for her to be at full strength. She felt it spark and pull, almost like a living thing. Eager to get its teeth into the Fade and rip. She let the veil go.
The heat of the day was kicking in and the tent began to grow stifling. Atslyr fought nausea as she and Cullen waited. They had moved to the back of the tent, where their fallen ropes littered the floor, and leaned shoulder to shoulder. It might have been an hour, though perhaps it was only fifteen minutes. Astlyr had no way to tell except to count the pounding beats in her head and the occasional sting of her mark as the Venatori did whatever they were doing to Cole. She contemplated charging out, distraction be damned. If it was not for Cullen's hand in hers and her wounds, she would have.
Then a new sound joined the voices outside. A roaring, screeching sound. Then shouts of "What the hell?!"
"Gods! What is-?"
There was the sound of running, more yelling and a lot more swearing. Plus what sounded like animals. Angry animals. One of the guard shadows vanished from the doorway as Astlyr and Cullen moved towards the flap, ready to act as soon as Astlyr judged the time was right. "I'll go for the weapons," Cullen said and they scuttled towards the door, almost on hands and knees.
"Only if you see a safe path. Don't take risks," she warned him.
The second guard turned and entered the tent. Before Astlyr had time to get her aching body to react Cullen tripped the man, then was on him in a heartbeat. One hand over the man's mouth, the other driving the arrowhead into his throat. Blood gurgled between Cullen's fingers, wrapped tightly over the man's lips and the hapless guard writhed, eyes rolling back as he died. Astlyr's mouth fell slightly open as Cullen climbed disdainfully free of the corpse, still holding the red-soaked arrow head. He caught her look and gave her a pained smile, "If you're attacked by an abomination you often have mere seconds to react. They taught us to be quick."
"Templar training comes in handy again," Astlyr said, slightly awed. "Are you ready?" She pulled aside the flap, peering out.
"When you are," Cullen answered, resolute, arrowhead still clutched like a tiny dagger in his fist.
Astlyr peered out of the tent, blinking in the sunlight which struck her eyes like shards of glass. She winced, bearing her teeth fiercely. What she saw made her almost laugh. Myfanwy, for she could only assume that the chaos outside was caused by the elf, had set loose several angry looking Varghest in the camp, as well as the dracolisk that the Venatori had stolen from Astlyr. Magic shot every which way, which was a danger, but it looked as though the Venatori were in no position to notice her as their camp was thoroughly ripped apart by the wild animals and trained mounts alike. In the daytime, with the heat of the sun so warm them, the dracs were in fine form. They bit, kicked, headbutted and slashed with clawed forelegs. Astlyr hoped that none of them would be seriously hurt as she gave Cullen and nod and moved out into the sunlight, still keeping low.
She made her way through the camp, keeping her eyes open for Cole as the Venatori did their best to herd the scattered and angry dracs back together and to chase the rampaging Varghest from their camp. Not before a tent was knocked over and shredded by one of the creatures, who seemed to find the texture of the tent fabric fascinating. Astlyr was glad that Myfanwy had angled her attacking force so they would drive though the part of camp farthest from the tent where Astyr and the others were being held.
One of the Venatori did spot Astlyr, but in that same moment he was knocked down by a charging drac. Thorn. The beast met Astlyr's eyes, snorted, then charged away, tossing her head and reveling in causing chaos. Astlyr moved on, limping, but determined. Skirting the busy and confused Venatori Astlyr finally achieved her destination. She stood up now to her full height. Her eyes flashed as she reached for the veil. Nearby Venatori noticed her, but not soon enough. Her hand shredded into the veil as though it were paper. She felt the surge of mana from it. Felt the electric thrum as Fade magic roiled.
Someone screamed. Out of the tear in reality demons already began to tumble. Most were smaller. Hungry shades that sought out easy prey. Fortunately the dracs had enough sense to flee, though one poor varghest was slaughtered almost at once. A rage demon slumped from the rift then, eyes bright with malice, and Astlyr moved away. Her next objective was to locate Cole.
She skirted the edge of the camp, listening to the sounds of more demons pouring from the rift, ripping through tents an men alike. She fervently hoped that Cullen had gotten Varric out of there because their ex-prison was now in the line of fire. Her head was growing clearer. She wasn't certain if it was because her wounds were not as bad as they had first seemed, or because her blood was up. She wasn't in a full rage, but a certain clarity came over her in battle sometimes. Perhaps a healthy dose of Fade magic had helped. Thinking of Fade magic she felt her hand throb again, though not with the usual urgent plea to close a nearby rift. Instead it prodded her, almost seeming to nudge her in the right direction. As though tugging an invisible string around her hand.
She turned, following this new, instinctive urgency. There was Cole. He was situated a little distance from the camp and seemingly tied to a pole. There was a circle drawn around him in the sand with red powder, and she recognized some of the symbols. A summoning circle? She didn't see any summoning stones but as she charged towards him she was careful to disrupt the circle as much as possible by kicking great gaps into it.
At first Cole appeared to be alone, but then she spotted a mage still with him, appearing from behind a rock. He was a smallish fellow, weasely. He did not look entirely certain he wanted to tangle with Astlyr. His pale eyes kept flicking to her hand, which was alight with jumping green magic like electricity. Maybe he was worried she would open another portal right here and send more demons his way.
"Cole?" Astlyr questioned.
"Yes," the boy answered, trying to turn to see her. He was tied so that he faced away from the camp. He was well trussed and looked as though they were planning to burn him at the stake, though there was no kindling at his feet.
Astlyr moved towards her friend, her eyes on the mage. He hadn't drawn his book from the pouch at his belt. Dorian had often scoffed at the waste of mana the Venatori employed to hover their spell books open before them. She recalled Dorian's scornful 'If you cannot be bothered to memorize your magics, why use them at all?' Astlyr knew she had no weapons; that this little mage technically had the upper hand if he chose to use it. Instead he seemed trapped in indecision. Perhaps, she realized as her fingers worked on the ropes holding Cole in place, this person was one of those who were considering worshiping her. Perhaps his new faith was growing stronger by the second because here she was, free of her bindings and setting demons loose on his people.
Astlyr tugged the last knot free and Cole struggled out of his bindings. To her relief he appeared relatively unharmed. He still bore the long cut on his arm and a few other wounds, but all looked superficial. He did look very stressed, even for him. His eyes had a hollowness she didn't like and he said little, coming to stand at her side and stare down the mage. "Are you alright, Cole?" she asked.
"They hurt me, Astlyr," the boy said, low and gravely. "He hurt me."
Astlyr reacted to the boy's words as though she had no control over her own body. She charged the mage. He threw a spell at her, which slammed into her shoulder, making her falter, but only a little. He reached for more magics, desperate panic in his eyes. Before he could cast again he was transfixed by an arrow through his throat. Astyr managed to stop her headlong charge, turning to see who had deprived her of her prey. Mayfanwy rode up, surprisingly managing a dracolisk all by herself. Her face was stoney and determined, but she gave Astlyr a quick, triumphant smile. "Come on. The others are waiting!"
It took Astlyr a moment to clear the rising rage from her mind. It was a good thing Myfanwy had already ridden away, she thought ruefully as she turned back to Cole. "Are you alright to walk?"
"Yes," the boy answered, his voice implying that this was a ridiculous question. Astlyr had thought it a fair one. She had no idea what that mage and his cronies had been doing to her friend. She turned to follow Myfanwy, who she could still make out, moving back towards the camp, but edging to the right. Astlyr wasn't certain in the elf was just losing control of her mount until she spied the slender, upright figure of Fen'Harel standing atop a dune.
Astlyr was slowing down now. Her injuries were catching up to her, though she tried to ignore them. Her head was swimming again and her leg felt like it wanted to give out. It felt as though the sand was trying to pull her down with each, painful step. She could still hear the sound of the demons decimating the Venatori camp off to her left. The anchor mark thrummed. Now that she had found Cole it called to her to close the rift. She knew she would need to do this soon, or they too would be overrun with demons, but she wanted to rally with her people first. Make certain no one was missing.
She half expected Cole to teleport on ahead. Instead he grabbed her good arm and threw it over his slender shoulders. To be honest he wasn't much help at holding her up, dwarfed as he was in both height and weight, but he did help her keep her balance when the world tilted. She felt his soothing gift wash over her like a cool touch, but it did not have the potency it usually brought to bear. Every time she raised her head she thought Fen looked further away.
When they reached him at last he skidded down the dune and took Astlyr's other arm to help. She grunted as her shoulder wound protested, but allowed the two men to lead her on. Behind the dune Fen'Harel had set up a little rally point in the relative shade. She knew that at one time in the day this spot would not have been sheltered at all and both Myfanwy and Fen'Harel would have been exposed to the merciless sun. Even with their desert attire she could tell they were both burned.
Myfanwy was struggling to contend with the dracs, who kept lunging and stamping. They could hear a fight going on and wanted to participate. The elf could only tie them together and hold on in hopes of stopping them. Astlyr could see they had already bitten their unwilling handler at least twice. "Cullen and Varric?" Astlyr questioned urgently.
This time Cole did teleport away. She felt the welcome rush of icy air as the boy vanished from her side. Fen'Harel approached her, healing magic already glowing on his hands. Astlyr waved him off for the moment. She climbed to the top of the dune, taking a knee and scanning the terrain for her friends. Then she spotted them. Cullen had gotten Varric clear, thank goodness, but they had gone the wrong direction. Cole was leading them carefully around the camp, which swarmed with demons and the sound of dying.
Cullen and made the rise of the dune, carrying Varric on his shoulders. Cole moved along with them, soothing hands on the dwarf and man, using his gift to lift their pain from them. This was likely why they had made such good time. None the less, once they had reached the safety of the dune Cullen collapsed to his knees, half easing Varric from his shoulders, and half dropping him in the sand. Astlyr slid down to join them, clumsily coming to rest beside her lover.
Myfanwy made a stifled sound at the sight of the dwarf. He was finally awake, but his face was ashy and he looked miserable. He made eye contact with Astlyr and she knew his wits were still with him. She silently thanked whatever powers might be watching over them. She turned to Cullen, who knelt, drenched in sweat and panting. He extended an arm to her and managed to land it on the back of her neck, pulling her forehead to his, ignoring her horns.
Fen'Harel once again called healing magic to his hands, ready to aid the group, when the first demon found its way over the dune.
***** Whoa, there's that badass Cullen we were all waiting for. In fact, everyone got a chance to be a bamf in this chapter! Astlyr got to dump demons on people, Myfanwy got to riding in on a shining steed. Ok, so Varric got to be unconscious. No everyone was a badass. People need to stop hitting that poor dwarf on the head! If there are head wounds being handed out it seems that Varric is first in line.
Demons creeping over dunes. Everyone looking pretty damn beat to hell. What will happen next?
Here's a picture of Fen'Harel in Daveth form: art/Daveth-Post-Fen-Harel-537083470
Any thoughts out there in reader land? Feel free to share, as always! :D
Keep up to date on things here: pages/Emily-Luebke-Author/283743888311991
Next chapter (hopefully) 6/4/15