Alistair stared at him for a moment as shock turned to anger and confusion. "What do you mean? I'm supposed to be in the battle."
"Not according to Duncan or the King." Raviathan flipped up his hood as the first drops of cold rain hit him.
With a shake of his head, Alistair started towards the gate, his long strides gaining speed.
Stupid templar. "Hey." Bloody stupid templar. "Hey!" Raviathan had to jog to catch up. "These are Duncan's orders."
"Were they now?"
Raviathan grabbed Alistair's arm, forcing him to stop and face him. "They said you would know the signal. I don't."
"The signal," Alistair said in disgust. "They need two Wardens to light the signal. Right."
"Duncan is down in the valley fighting. They will be overwhelmed if Loghain's forces don't get the signal to charge." Raviathan shook his arm. "You are needed. Stop fighting your orders."
Alistair jerked his arm away. "Yeah. Fine." He glared at the gate, mouth tight and nostrils flared. "Let's go, shall we?"
Shems and their attitudes. Raviathan watched him as they turned, half sure Alistair would make some stupid run for the gate as soon as his back was turned. Instead, Alistair grudgingly trotted along through the fortress with him. In truth, Raviathan agreed that this mission was a waste of two Wardens considering their immunity. The only reason he could fathom not sending a messenger was that the king knew Alistair for a fool. Loghain too? Odd that that seasoned general had agreed without any comment considering how he hated Wardens.
"Maker's breath! Would you just look at that." The soldiers manning a ballista crowded around the edge of a platform.
"Andraste's tits! Word is they've been growing, but this?"
Despite their hurry to get to the tower, both Alistair and Raviathan took a moment to view the valley below. Raviathan shook his head then rubbed at his eyes. He couldn't make sense of the scene. Maybe the light was wrong or the rain blurring the world? Having lived his whole life surrounded by walls, he wasn't sure he could see right in open spaces. Or the taint wasn't done poisoning his blood. What he saw couldn't be real.
Alistair swore under his breath. "Come on. Signal lighting suddenly seems very important."
Dazed, Raviathan followed. That wasn't real. Shadows from campfires playing tricks on him. His mind kept stuttering over the image, unable to make sense of it but unable to let go. Panic started to bring him out the trance he had been in since the Joining. Raviathan had to fight an overwhelming urge to race down to the rest of the Wardens. Duncan shouldn't be there.
Raviathan glared at the templar's back as new fury flooded him. This idiot! What kind of Warden needs to be protected doing some simple task like this? Duncan has an army to face, and I'm stuck with this sorry excuse of a mage hunting shem. By the fires, how did this man survive the Joining?
Instead of following, Raviathan glanced back at the scene below. Black clouds, dark as in the Fade, roiled unnaturally, so close Raviathan thought he would be able to touch them from the top of the Tower of Ishal. The storm clouds moved too fast, appearing more like boiling metal that undulated in a thick, bubbling mass. For a second, Raviathan felt trapped as if he were back in the ruins. The taint pressed in from above, swarmed from below, chocking off any escape. Trapped. His heart beat faster. Trapped.
Fires sparred with the rain, spitting their proud light against the total blackness that lay thick as a shroud over men and monsters alike. Only the armor of humans picked up light, the fire's energy dulled by iron and steel. The tainted army had fire as well. Torches made eyes glow, illuminated snatches of arms, crude weapons with many blades, shown red in the long lines of horns. What was shadow and what was the walking evil? Where did the darkspawn end?
Pressurized air made the sounds from the army thicker, sluggish and almost physical. The bray of dogs competed with the shouts of men. Back in Denerim, the march of guards signaled trouble. This, though greatly magnified beyond what Raviathan had ever experienced, had the opposite effect. The sounds of orders and thuds from hundreds of feet filled him with a strange passion. He could feel the tension of all these men and women, their fear and excitement. Just as strange as this passion that thrummed through his blood was the kinship he felt for the soldiers below. Not once in his life would he have ever thought it possible that he would be on the side of shems.
Beyond the army of humans, other sounds emerged: growls, far off shrieks that sounded like metal scraping against tortured metal, and a roar that made his stomach clench and skin turn cold. Whatever made that roar, it was huge. His Joining nightmare was coming to life in the valley below. There would be no escape from the horde. He couldn't hide. He couldn't outrun them. They were coming, and the only barrier between him and the mass of living evil was the army of humans. Although they had been part of the unbreakable barrier that had kept his kin behind walls for centuries, the humans seemed so pitiful in that moment. A few humans against that?
Again, the roar echoed like thunder through the valley. The sin of the world was coming for him. Raviathan almost threw up at the sudden leaden weight in his blood. The sin of the world was in him, in his tainted blood. There was no escape. No way out. There had always been his father, Valendrian, the friends and neighbors who stood by him. He had never been alone before or had to face this kind of danger. Even with Vaughan, Raviathan's kinfolk stood with him. Frightened, yes, but they were together. The darkspawn swarmed under his feet in the tunnels, crowded over his head in blackened clouds, surrounded him in every direction. No alienage anymore. Not even a god to pray to anymore.
Alone. So alone it made his bones ache. Just one tiny elf against the world, like a grain of sand to hold back the ocean.
"We need to cross the bridge to get to the tower!"
When Raviathan tore his eyes away from the swarming mass, he saw Alistair waiting for him near the bridge tower. Please be careful, Duncan. You're all I have now.
Shouts of alarm rose from soldiers on the bridge. Raviathan couldn't see why they were scattering for the brief moment he was behind the bridge tower. The bridge grew brighter, alarmingly red, and a rough hand shoved him back behind the wall just as he was running out. The crash vibrated through the stone. Raviathan crouched low, his hands over his stinging ears. The ringing pounded in waves in his skull. He would have cursed the damage done to his sensitive ears if he hadn't had the power to heal them. Now he glared at the templar standing over him. If the bastard shemlen would go away, he could heal this. Raviathan huffed out a breath. Better not chance anything until the templar was distracted.
Past the tower, rubble lay strewn from a new scar in the bridge, flames licking up along the sides, but the bridge stood strong. Raviathan blinked in astonishment. How did the flames stay alive? A few smaller stones continued to burn, the translucent fire coating the stones like a gel. It must be made from fire crystal. The darkspawn knew how to make potions? The fire stones had to have been hurled from a great distance, so they also knew how to operate if not make complex weapons of war. Maybe the low ranked darkspawn were unintelligent, but there was intelligence somewhere in the horde. Had Duncan not known? Raviathan couldn't comprehend Duncan being ignorant of these creatures, but either his mentor had truly been ignorant, or he was hiding knowledge. Why?
Soldiers picked themselves up, brushing off rubble, and returning to their posts. A few weren't moving as fast as they should, their bodies held in tight from damage. Impact wounds. Shock. There were other healers in the fortress, weren't there? Raviathan bit his lip, wanting to tend these men first, to get them off the bridge and out of harm's way until they were patched up. He hesitated as he passed the soldiers, but there was nothing for it. Not only was the templar close, Raviathan wasn't sure about his position yet. Duncan hadn't had time to make any announcement to protect some errant apostate turned Warden. There just had to be healers around. These were seasoned, well organized armies. They would know to prepare.
Fear drove Raviathan across the bridge. He didn't want to see the mass below again. He didn't want to think of his body falling on the steep rocks below, his bones fragile as glass from this height. He didn't want to think of the black clouds overhead, pressing down on him. He didn't want to think of the mage hunter running after him. Raviathan was trapped, trapped and running in panic. The stone around him started glowing red. The color intensified with every step until he was running along stones bright as fire.
Men shouted, their cries sounding distant and unimportant. The bridge vibrated under his feet, the crash searing his ears, hot air like a blacksmith's furnace pressing against his back. Raviathan focused only on the second bridge tower. The open corridor dark but holding safety. His whole world focused down to that point.
Raviathan hit the wall of the tower with a cool rush. He pressed his cheek to the stone as if the it could slow his heart. Comforting shadows blocked out the strange fire that clung to the bridge. The fire didn't speak to his mind, but he could feel it inside, in a place beyond thought. There was a song to fire that he understood deep in his magical heart. Fire sang to him, the pureness of energy like birdsong, always calling out its existence to a kindred soul.
That fire on the bridge had been different, slippery in its movements, enticing his power as if a seductress danced about him, bewitching as it ensnared him in veils of raw power. The Fade was energy, pure energy. On this side of the Veil, few things compared to the raw force of the Fade. Fire sang to his soul as the sun sang to plants. He needed to be away from the sliding, slippery power when he was in a panic. The flames wound around his soul in long, caressing fingers. In his state, he would feed that fire into a whirling towers. Not only would he expose himself, he was a danger to every soldier on that bridge. Fire was his comfort and could be as dangerous as a demon.
Raviathan glanced back at the bridge. The templar was slowly getting back to his feet, shaking his head gingerly. Taking the opportunity, Raviathan healed the damage to his eardrum and nerve fibers. Inside the bridge tower, a tight interior stair lead to a roof for archers. Had there been a door, Raviathan could have knocked the templar out and stowed him there while he finished this business in peace. That would keep the templar safe for Duncan but out of the way. Raviathan sighed. The bloody signal, and he needed that bloody templar. The fool started to jog, his feet clumsy but gaining sureness with each step. Good to know the fool healed quickly.
"Head alright?" Raviathan felt like he should ask.
"Um, fine."
Wasting no more time on the shem, Raviathan jogged out of the alcove. Rain shot down in icy needles. He flipped his hood up as he ran through the heavy night. Get to the tower. Light the signal. Duncan will be fine. They've won all the battles thus far. Duncan will be fine.
A flash of fire on metal caught Raviathan's attention. Swords. Fighting? Up here? The cry of a human sounded over the din of rain followed by a low chuckle that echoed through the fort. Raviathan's heart sped up. The heavy feel of adrenaline numbed his arms. That sound. That dreaded sound he was learning to fear like the stomp of soldiers' feet in the alienage. It didn't belong, the sound heralding coming pain.
One large hurlock grinned down as the soldier fell, the blade of a second darkspawn buried in the man's side. Raviathan picked up speed, his blades in his hands without thought. How did the darkspawn get here? Did they invade from the road? How many? Raviathan raised his sword block a blow as he charged into the hurlock's side, his dagger striking deep into the hurlock's back. Three hard thrusts of his dagger, then Raviathan hopped back before the second could pin him in an awkward position.
An arrow flew by, missing Raviathan's head by inches. Maker! How many of them? Wouldn't Loghain's army have known if the darkspawn had outflanked them? Black blood erupted from the injured hurlock's mouth. Though the monster tried to lumber forward, its injury had it doubled over. Raviathan didn't remember moving his blades. They flashed before him in a quick dance. A deflected parry jarred his elbow. In an instant of flurried blocks and attacks, black blood coated Raviathan's sword.
They were down. Dead? Raviathan's stomach churned with the nearness of the taint. Another arrow passed a few feet away from him. Shaking his head to rid himself of shock, Raviathan tried to focus on the scene before him. Two genlocks had the high ground by the tower entrance. Two more soldiers fought three hurlocks with little success. More darkspawn charged the scaffolding to his left. The templar was there, outnumbered but the narrow paths kept him from being overwhelmed. Maybe this wasn't a splinter army from the horde below, just a few stragglers to make chaos.
Dead or not, the hurlocks were down. Raviathan circled behind one of the hurlocks attacking the soldier. The monster caught sight of him at the last second, but Raviathan's blades whirled into motion. Together he and the soldier turned on the remaining two. A crude blade gutted the second soldier just before Raviathan could kill the monster. A howl of pain sang to the night, and another hurlock fell.
With a start, Raviathan recognized the two soldiers. Rain spattered the face of the guard who had been watching over the prisoners. He had give Raviathan part of his lunch to feed the deserter. The guard lay on the ground, squinting from the rain splattering his face. Steam rose from his torn stomach. The guard looked down, his hand touching the broken tubes of his own intestines.
Steam, Raviathan thought. In the cold, bodies steam. But he's not dead yet. The guard blinked, his fingers trembling. He's a dead man who hasn't yet died.
Heal? The templar. Try to patch him up? No time. More darkspawn were coming. No light to work by. I'm letting this man die.
The other soldier lumbered up to the tower, a pronounced limp breaking his gait. That was the taskmaster who had yelled at the elves before Raviathan went to the Korcari Wilds. The thick beard and broken nose, the scarred armor. What was he doing here? The leg injury must have been before the hurlock got to him since he hadn't taken damage in the fight. He hadn't been limping before, but maybe he strained it?
Raviathan gave himself a mental shake as he followed the taskmaster up the steps leading to the tower's clearing. The taskmaster grunted, his body jerking twice, so hard he nearly lost his footing, but he kept going. Raviathan glimpsed an arrow shaft sticking out of the man's side before they split to take on the genlocks. Shot twice and still fighting. How could he take the pain?
The small genlock growled at him, a mouth of thick protruding fangs gnashing at him. Shining black eyes stared hate. Strange eyes, Raviathan thought. Alive, but eyes that held no soul. The sin of the world stared out from the wizened face. Raviathan's dagger bit into the genlock's neck. No soul, but the life was gone.
Lightning split the sky. Only a second, yet that moment was seared into Raviathan's memory. The tower loomed like a broken bone, the splintered top impaling low clouds. The taskmaster charged a hurlock, the largest Raviathan had yet seen. That shem was going to die. Raviathan knew it, knew that shem had no hope, knew the shem was racing towards his death to give everyone else that extra chance. Raviathan had hated the man earlier.
Blocking one blow but unable to defend a second, the hurlock's sword dove deep into the taskmaster. That man had lived near four decades, and this was his end. Whatever battles he had fought, whatever his hopes for the future or knowledge gained, they would be gone in minutes. How much was a life, and how little was it worth?
With the hurlock's blade in the shem's stomach, Raviathan flanked him, drove his blades in while he had the best chance. He hacked at the hurlock, the damn monstrous thing shrugging off the blows as if Raviathan were a mere nuisance. Raviathan's blades raised again and again to little use. The taskmaster struggled, kept the hurlock from acting. The man's stained teeth grimaced in pain, but he would not stop his last stand against the monsters. Why wouldn't the horror die? End this torture and just die!
The taskmaster slumped, his body a great lump sodden by mud and rain. The hurlock jerked his sword free, the movement knocking Raviathan back. What was a life? Lost, Raviathan stared at the hurlock, at the horns in the monster's helmet, at the hateful grin created by the sin of the world. What is the worth of one life? A thought screamed in Raviathan's mind. I don't want to die.
A sword struck clean though the hurlock's back and into its heart. The blade flashed in the flicker of lighting, dripping with black blood but still bright. Alistair pulled his sword out with a swift jerk. He looked so tall then. Calm.
"Are you alright?"
Raviathan nodded, his hands shaking. He had lost all form against the hurlock. He had been like a child banging on a post with wooden swords rather than the precise fighter his mother had trained. One day ago he and Duncan had been sharing a meal by a campfire. Raviathan had never seen a darkspawn. He had still kept his vow to his wife. His secrets had been under his control. Had it only been a day?
"I'll be okay," he said to Alistair who was still watching him. "The Joining. I'm just tired. I'll be fine."
Alistair looked like he was about to speak when two other men joined them, one wearing the robes of a mage. The soldier spoke. "We heard fighting and shouts. Do you need help?"
"Yes," said Alistair. "And not a moment too soon."
Raviathan had just gotten back to his feet when the three of them ran into the tower. He would have shouted for them to wait, but no use would have come from it. His limbs felt strange, heavy, yet he moved as if in a dream. Was this the aftereffects of adrenaline? How much more did he have to give before his body quit on him? How was Alistair so unaffected by all the fighting done today? He seemed unstoppable. Raviathan was still underestimating the mage hunter, a dangerous habit he couldn't afford.
Duncan. I can't fail Duncan.
Just as Raviathan got to the high doors, a blast sounded within. Pressured air whooshed out causing the doors to bang fully open. The three shems were lying against the wall in disarray. The circular room was divided by a hasty barrier of chairs and tables, fresh scorch marks staining the wooden furniture. More darkspawn. So they hadn't been stragglers. They had come in from the base of the building.
All the darkspawn were focused on the shems. Still undetected, Raviathan hid himself in shadow and crept along the barrier. Three archers stood by the far wall, and what looked like a magic using genlock was making its way towards the fallen shems. Alistair was the first to stir, his eyes still dazed but showing alarm as the genlock came forward. He was getting his shield in place when the genlock lowered its staff. It was Raviathan's sword that struck the blow this time. Clean, right through the genlock's throat. The monster gurgled, its hands seizing as it dropped the staff, then fell.
Arrows flew in their direction. All three shems recovered their wits enough to scramble behind the barrier. Between Raviathan's bow and the mage's blasts of power, they fired at the archers.
"The darkspawn aren't supposed to be here," Alistair said.
All four men huddled down as a volley of arrows flew over the barrier. Raviathan sighted his arrow, the careful shot hitting its mark. The force of the arrow spun the hurlock back, slamming it into the wall. A blast of energy from the mage finished the thing off. Bloody useless templar. Why didn't he carry a bow?
With the barrier close to the main door, the darkspawn had no place to hide. Whatever caused the blast from before, this was meant to be the darkspawn's shield. Not the best tactics on the side of the darkspawn, but Raviathan had no complaints. A few more volleys took out the remaining two hurlocks.
Raviathan took a deep breath. His long practiced control was back, but it was a tenuous thing. He needed rest. With luck, the darkspawn hadn't infiltrated the rest of the tower to block their progress. Luck was not his friend lately, Raviathan thought with a grimace.
"There were problems with the tower this morning," Raviathan said. "Maybe they thought to outflank the army? Surprise attack from behind where we're weakest."
"They aren't supposed to be capable of plans. Not sophisticated ones at least."
Raviathan snorted. "Those fire rocks weren't hurled by muscle, or didn't you notice that?" Maker's ass. Just when he had cautioned himself not to underestimate the mage hunter, that shem showed his idiocy all over again. The templar had been a Warden for half a year now and had been at Ostagar since the battles started. How could he have learned so little in all that time? "Anyway, that doesn't matter now. We have to get to the top."
"What if the signal fire wasn't readied?"
The worry that really gnawed at Raviathan was that they were going to trap themselves. If the darkspawn were coming in from the bottom, and they were headed towards the top, there would be nowhere to retreat other than jumping out a window. If they made it to the top. That taskmaster who had treated Raviathan's kin so poorly had given his life to see the others make it just a bit further. That courage, despite the taskmaster's nature, weighed on him. This had to be done.
Still, no reason to be blind to alternatives. Best to send a messenger instead of relying only on the signal. A messenger wasn't guarantied considering the darkspawn surprise, just the opposite, but it was another chance. Glancing at the two shems, Raviathan wondered who would have the best chance. The soldiers outside hadn't lasted long against the darkspawn, but a stray arrow would kill the mage. However, even if the mage did make it, who would listen to him? Better to send the soldier. "You. Get to Loghain. If we don't get to the signal fire, you're the only chance the King has. You have to tell him what happened and that he must attack immediately. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ser."
"Go now." Raviathan didn't have time to ponder the soldier's obedience to an elf. Instead, he turned to the mage. "Do you know a fire spell?"
"Yes. It's a minor one."
"Bright?"
"I can make a bright fire, yes."
"If all else fails, that fire has to be bright enough to rival the sun. You need to make it to the top and be the signal."
The mage nodded. He had the soft, juvenile hairs on his jaw young shems grew to try to impress the world with their age, but he was earnest.
"Let's go."
They raced through the circular passages, slowing only to check the next room for darkspawn before continuing. One long room used as barracks made them all stop. Dead soldiers littered the floor. Not just dead, but ripped apart, their extremities tossed about as if by a spoiled child throwing a fit with rag dolls. Worse, the bodies had been played with. Raviathan hoped the soldiers had been dead when that happened. Ropes made of their own intestines tied the dead men to bunks or in strange altars made of weapons and body parts. A naked leg covered with dark hair hung drunkenly by an arm of a lighter shade, the motley of limbs spreading like a fan. Sticky blood coated the floor. "Have you ever seen this before?"
"No," Alistair said. "I've heard a few stories about the Deep Roads, but the other Wardens didn't like to talk about them much."
No wonder. If there was a later, he'd have to ask Duncan about the Deep Roads.
The mage was pale when he caught up, his eyes red from vomiting in a corner. "This place looks like the Tower. If so, there should be a stair that way so we don't have to circle the entire floor."
With a nod, Raviathan followed the mage's directions and found the smaller passage. "Let's try to block these as best we can. Slow the darkspawn coming from below." The tower rumbled, a vibration felt through the stone. The storm outside must be getting worse.
"Wh-what if we're trapped in," the mage asked.
"If the darkspawn are coming up, it will slow them down. Maybe give us a fighting chance until the army can make it."
That seemed to mollify the mage. At least the man hadn't forgotten his spine.
"I hadn't thought about it before, but he's right," Alistair said. "They're both Tevinter construction. If that's…" Alistair turned around, calculating with his fingers where the rooms would match. "Then the center would be through the hall above then on the right. That'll take us to the next stair."
The mage nodded in agreement. If the mage and templar could agree, who was he to say no.
More evidence of the darkspawn greeted them on the next floor. The tower had been thoroughly trashed with broken furniture and body parts turned into more of those strange altars. Another rumble shook the building. Tiny ripples from the vibration marked the last pools of blood that hadn't dried. The thunder hadn't been so bad before. Would the weather effect the darkspawn as it would the human armies?
"Do you know why the darkspawn do this?"
Alistair shook his head. "Not a clue. It looks like it's for rituals, but I couldn't say for what. Center of the tower is just there."
The center was more of a long oblong room that held the curve of the tower in a leftward bulge. The architects must have been drunk. A massive hole opened the floor along the room's outer curve. Piles of rubble, from foot sized rocks to chunks of stone the size of two men, lay strewn in haphazard piles. The remaining ledge on the right was wide enough for two men to walk abreast if one did not fear heights. Though Raviathan was no judge, he thought the damage looked new. The broken stone didn't have the worn edges that older damage would have taken on in time.
Another shudder shook the tower. Alistair led the way across while Raviathan grabbed a few pouches left on the ground before following. Where were the darkspawn? They had left plenty of remains. They must have been running through the tower for hours. How had there been no word?
Alistair just reached the hole when he shouted, drawing his blade. The mage blanched and backed up, his feet catching on rubble and falling against the wall. Raviathan froze when a hand as large as a pony gripped the edge of the hole. The skin was grayish blue, pebbled, the fingers ending with thick broken nails as long as Raviathan's forearm. He froze, mind blank, as he stared at the hand. No, Maker, no, this cannot be. This can't be real.
With a yell, Alistair's sword swung down to cut deep into the fingers. Blood gushed, and a roar emanated that shook the stones under Raviathan's feet. The roar punished his ears, but he could not cover them in protection. He stood there, helpless, as a second hand emerged. An elbow propped on the ledge, the monster's horned head coming up. Alistair's blade slashed at the beast's face. He cut enough to show bone, then the monster punched him hard enough to send the templar flying across the room.
A monumental effort of giant muscles pulled the ogre up. The thing wrestled with the ledge, it's torso balancing on the floor as legs kicked the wall below to push it up. How was this real? It couldn't be real.
Standing for a moment, the ogre's heavy breathing filled the room, its eyes focused on Raviathan.
It can't be real. This isn't real.
Bone and flesh melded together in the monster's face. Split horns cleaved from the its skull, twisting upwards like the jagged roots formed by a tree planted on hard rock. Spiked armor and tatters covered arms and legs that were too large, too bulbous for the body. It lumbered in great, heavy steps. Raviathan could feel the slight vibration with each step the ogre took. It was a thing made only for killing.
Maker, please, I don't want to die!
The ogre stood over him, reaching for him. It looked dead, the way its skin shriveled back to expose teeth, in the cloudy grey of soulless eyes. Raviathan felt the stink of its hot breath.
The hand came for him, slow, and finally, Raviathan's brain snapped into focus. Not die. I'm not going to die! He rolled to the side, away from the hand. The ogre turned with him, snarling. Raviathan found his feet, terror making his movements faster. His blades sprang out, diving into the ogre's leg. The monster bellowed, spittle flying out in long ropes. It had also fallen out of the spell that had held them.
Raviathan scrambled to keep to the monster's back. It moved too fast for such a large thing, but all that bulky muscle couldn't match the elf. Raviathan stayed to its back, his blades ready for another strike. Maker, it was big! Like trying to fight a hut. Just as Raviathan's blades struck, a giant foot smashed into him. He hadn't even seen the attack coming. He sailed through the air, the world a sudden blur. His chest and face burned in shocked agony. Raviathan''s back slammed into the stone wall, the impact muffled by his armor and pack, then watched as the floor rose to meet him. His leg hit the jagged edge of a broken stone, spinning him around so he landed on his side.
He couldn't remember the last time he felt pain like this. He remembered the sharp bang of wood from his mother's training, but not like this. Without further thought, his magic flowed into his body. The ache of bruised bone remained, but his flesh knit, the swell and ease of blood healing damage that would have taken weeks to mend.
A flash of fire caught Raviathan's attention away from his barely healed body. The mage and Alistair circled the ogre, attacking from two sides. The ogre's flesh blackened and split from the long tongue of flame licking out from the mage's staff. Alistair's blade thrust forward into the ogre's knee to cripple it. The ogre roared. Its head went back, the cords of its neck strained taunt. Before they were playthings. Now the monster was mad.
With a shockingly swift twist of its torso, the ogre's arm flew out in a sweep. It backhanded Alistair who caught the impact full on. Alistair's armor clinked and scraped along the floor as he tumbled ungracefully, limbs flailing, sword lost. He couldn't stop the slide, only grapple, as he started to slip over the edge. Catching a loose stone, Alistair spun enough that his legs fell over the edge, but the momentum from the hit kept him from stopping. He cried out, grasping at the rough stone.
This was the last for the templar. The hole torn in the floor was multiple stories up, even further to the lower levels that reached into the mountain's side. The templar was going to die.
A cry from further in the chamber, and Raviathan saw the mage scrambling. The mage darted behind a chunk of stone, ran left as the ogre moved right, evading as a hare trying to outrace a wolf. Save the mage. The mage could be the signal. Shocked, Raviathan realized that with the templar gone, he could be the signal Duncan needed. His magic would be free.
Only a second ticked by as thoughts raced through Raviathan's brain. What to do? Save the mage? Have the extra help to get to the top? Take his chance now to evade the ogre? The mage could run. Just as easily die. Let a man die? Even in the slice of a second the thought went through Raviathan's mind, he was repelled by it. The signal. If he didn't get to the signal, the King's army and Duncan would be overrun. Many hundreds would die then. Have to get to the signal. The darkness of night was coming for them, gleaming eyes, wicked blades, wanting blood and death. Have to get to the signal.
One armored hand clung to the broken stone. The templar would fall to his death soon. His heavy armor would drag him down. Raviathan felt no pity, only grim satisfaction that one less mage hunter would exist. Served the bastard right.
Raviathan got to his feet. A flash of red robe showed the mage was near the door. If he could make it out, the ogre would have a hard time following. The mage could save himself. Raviathan worried that the rest of the darkspawn that had created the altars would be further up the tower. If so, there was no way he could get to the signal. He needed help. Get the mage and run across the room. Evade the ogre. The door was too small for the monster. The ogre could break through it, but it would take time. They could keep climbing. The mage knew the tower structure. They had a chance of evading further darkspawn that way.
Light the beacon.
First, he had to get the mage by the ogre. Raviathan felt the panic in his chest, used it to ready himself against the ogre. He could do this. He had to.
At a panicked cry, Raviathan glanced down to see the templar. The floor below was lit, but below that was a gaping darkness. Alistair's eyes met his, pleading.
No. No, I will not save this man. He hunted my kin, others like me. He is cruel. He and his raped, tortured, and killed my aunt before leaving her to rot in garbage. Let him die for his sins. I don't have time. The ogre, the mage, I can't save this man without being vulnerable.
Alistair's brown eyes, panicked.
No! But Duncan asked me to protect him. Duncan, no, Raviathan begged in his mind. Besides, he's too heavy. The ogre will charge, and we'll both die.
Watch another man die?
Alistair's eyes. His life, knowing he was close to death. The last hope for life in those eyes.
An agony, like his heart was tearing in two, hit Raviathan. A last 'no' lingered in his mind even as he knelt by the edge, grabbed the neck of Alistair's armor, and pulled. Damn you! Damn you, you stupid, useless, mage hunter! Alistair got another handhold. His armor scraped as he pulled himself up. Raviathan strained, his fingers locked under the collar, using his legs to pull back. You stupid fucking templar!
As soon as Alistair's thighs cleared the ledge, Raviathan turned to the ogre. The mage raced along the outer wall. The ogre's claws swung out in an almost lazy swing. The attack grazed the mage, not much, but the monster's strength was enough to spin the mage around. The mage lost his feet, deep gashes in his back, and fell to the floor.
Rage and fear mingled in Raviathan's blood. He charged the ogre. His blades waved, catching the ogre's attention. Just as a monstrous hand swung, Raviathan rolled under it and back to his feet. His blade bit deep into the ogre's thigh.
A bellow echoed off the stone walls. When the ogre turned, Raviathan's sword jerked out of his hands, still in the ogre's leg. Abandoning the blade, Raviathan danced back. If only he had grabbed another sword from the remains below. Instead, he pulled a second knife. Little good a knife and defensive dagger would do against this beast, but better than his bare hands.
Alistair ran in, feinting to the side. The beast's head snapped in low. Its horns swung through the air. Alistair dodged back enough that the tip of one horn tore his armor but did not knock him down. Raviathan saw no blood seep from the tear so assumed the damage was superficial.
Just then, he caught the beast's eye trained on him. The uninjured leg bunched. Raviathan was ready this time. The leg shot out to slam him. Raviathan sidestepped, the air pressure fluttering his cape. In twin downward strokes, Raviathan plunged his short blades into the thick meat of the ogre's leg. When he pulled the blades out, black blood spurted in pulsing streams. Had he been lucky enough to hit an artery? Hope blossomed in Raviathan's chest as he danced back. A pool of blood formed under the darkspawn.
A pulse of magic stunned the ogre. Only then did Raviathan see the beast's next attack. He would have been hit by one of those jagged horns in a second had the attack not been interrupted. He hadn't even seen it coming. Those horns would have torn him in half.
Alistair took the brief advantage to rush in. He leapt, his shield bashing the ogre's face while his blade plunged into the massive chest. The crunch of broken bone sounded as the beast rose up, a last spasm of muscles. In that last moment of death, the monster loomed over them all, giant and ancient as the evil that was its life. Unhurried, it giant form tipped back. Alistair rode the body as it fell with a reverberating thud of massive muscles.
The three men gathered, all breathing heavily, to stare at the body. They had done it. They had killed this impossible thing.
"We… we need to keep going," Alistair said.
Still in shock, Raviathan nodded. The templar gathered their weapons. He had to tug and jerk to get his sword and Raviathan's out. Raviathan glanced at the mage's back. He lifted the torn fabric to see three long wounds. Though no longer bleeding, the wounds hadn't been healed. Long, red gouges remained in the young man's soft skin. Whatever this mage's talents were, healing wasn't his strength.
"Can you keep going?"
The mage gave him a weak nod. He was bent, in pain, leaning on his staff for support. If the templar weren't here, I could heal this man in an instant. There was no bitterness to his thoughts though, just an acknowledgment of the situation. More than any other emotion, Raviathan felt tired. When the templar turned out to be a back stabbing mage killer who would end him outright or sell him to the Circle, Raviathan could be satisfied that he hadn't betrayed Duncan, cold comfort though that would be.
Presented with the hilt, Raviathan took his sword back from the templar.
Below, Raviathan saw shadows moving in the unlit chambers. Multiple pairs of red eyes found them. They hissed, the shadows moving faster.
"Well that wasn't creepy," Alistair said.
"Bar the door. Now," Raviathan said, the strength of the order surprising him. With the three of them pushing, they got a few of the larger chunks of rock in front of the door. At best it would give them a few extra moments. Without the need for further orders, the three hurried along the ledge. Two arrows flew from below, badly aimed shots made from desperation and chance.
"We're going to die, aren't we?"
Raviathan glanced back at the young mage. He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. He looked even younger now with fear giving way to hopelessness. "We still might find a defensive position at the top or a place to hole up. We're not done yet." He shook the boy's shoulder. "We beat that bastard, didn't we?"
Though he didn't quite smile, the boy's mouth eased. Raviathan gave his shoulder a final squeeze then followed Alistair up the stairs. "Hold on. The darkspawn have been through here. Once the door is open, let me go first."
At Alistair's questioning look, Raviathan elaborated. "I can check the room without them seeing me. Check for traps."
Alistair stood back, hands outstretched, content to let Raviathan take point. Raviathan was too tired to concentrate on pulling shadows, so he had to rely on the more basic methods of stealth. Thankfully, the chamber above remained empty as he padded in.
More of the darkspawn's mutilations decorated the room. Organs bound in a spiked alter had started shriveling, but little blood remained on the floor. The butchering must have been elsewhere, enough that little blood remained to drip or drag. How long had this been going on? How had they not heard a word of this other than there was some minor trouble?
A dog's squeal of pain brought Raviathan's attention back to the present. Peering around the archway to the next room, Raviathan saw a pack of genlocks surrounding a cage. More cages lined the outer curve of the wall. The mabari inside growled, all watching as the genlocks took turns stabbing inside the cage that had their attention. Raviathan felt sick as another squeal echoed along the stone walls. The altars the darkspawn created didn't seem real to him, too strange and out of place, but this suffering hit him hard.
One of the mabari spied him, rising to all fours. He looked at Raviathan, to a latch in the middle of the room, and back to Raviathan. The latch connected all the cage gates by a series of pulleys. Maker, the mabari were smart. Were they smart enough not to attack him? A pitiful whine made Raviathan's mind up for him.
Darting out, Raviathan raced for the lever. When he was halfway, he heard the grunt followed by a yell from an inhuman throat. More noises followed, their sounds making Raviathan's skin crawl as if it wanted to leap off his body. Fear and disgust shivered through him. He pulled the lever, heard the bray of angry dogs, and wished for the hundredth time he did not have darkspawn blood in him. The sin of the world inside him, and there would never be an escape. Trapped, the rest of his life trapped with their sin.
He spun in time to catch a genlock's sword between the hilt and blade of his dagger, swept the darkspawn to his left using the genlock's momentum against it. Raviathan's sword bit deep into the genlock's exposed side. The sin of the world would die one monster at a time.
Howls rang out as limbs ripped away from bodies. Black blood splattered the floor as one dog flung a stubby arm newly released from a shoulder socket. Another mabari whipped her head back and forth in a frenzy, ripping out a chunk of genlock flank.
A spark of mage energy hit a genlock. Raviathan saw Alistair charge through the arch, sword at the ready, the mage behind him readying another attack. Swords and teeth flashed, and with a last thrust of Alistair's sword into the back of a genlock, the fight was over.
The mage knelt by the injured mabari, doing what he could to help the tortured animal. The rest of the pack looked to Raviathan. It was the strangest feeling to have these hyper intelligent dogs waiting for his orders.
"Clear out the rest of the floor, then guard."
Even eerier, the dogs obeyed. Brown, black, and grey heads turned then trotted down the hallway. The only sounds in the room were the ticks of their claws on the stone and the labored breathing of the injured mabari. Raviathan didn't know what he had been expecting: a woof of acknowledgment of the order, or confusion as the dogs stared at the odd elf, or straight out disobedience since he was not their master, but this quiet following of orders unnerved him after an already exhausting day.
"You two, follow the dogs and help. I'll see to the injured one."
Alistair huffed at the order, but he left. That was what Raviathan had expected from the dogs.
"I have some healing magic."
"Save it for when we need you. I can patch up the dog."
The mage gave the dog's neck a pat, but he followed the rest with only one backward glance. At the sounds of barks and growls, the mage hurried on to join the melee.
Raviathan knelt by the dog. The mage hadn't been able to stop the bleeding, only slow it. Exposed ribs glared and flaps of flesh hung in wide strips. One of the dog's eyes had been stabbed out. Magic could heal damage, but it couldn't recreate what was lost. If the mabari lived, its eye would always be gone. Monsters.
After cleaning out the wounds, all the while murmuring comfort to the dog, Raviathan held one flap of skin closed. The templar was still down the hall judging by the sound of fighting. Focusing, Raviathan's heart of magic flared out at his will, his brilliant inner sun's power arching out to touch the animal. The dog whimpered and whined as each successive wound knit closed. The mabari struggled to turn its head to lick Raviathan's hand.
"Easy, sweetie." He moved his hand so the mabari could continue to lick while Raviathan finished. He helped the mabari stand on shaking legs so he could wrap bandages around the animal's middle. The wounds were mostly healed but still tender, but more importantly the bandages would hide the healing magic from the templar.
"Stay here and rest." The mabari was having none of his orders and followed by his side. Raviathan couldn't stop a smile. "Okay then. But try to look more injured."
The mabari cocked his head at the order, but he limped a little as he walked. Maker, these animals were too smart. He gave the mabari a scratch behind the ear as they left to find the others. Standing, the mabari's shoulder was just higher than his hip. The strength of the animal was incredible. Raviathan watched the massive muscles move under the dog's fine fur. This was the animal of a king.
As Raviathan rounded the corridor, he saw Alistair's sword thrust take out the last hurlock. The dogs were savaging darkspawn corpses with two holding down the hurlock Alistair had just killed. The mage leaned against the wall to rest, but he straightened in surprise to see the mabari with Raviathan.
"Elfroot concoction," Raviathan said as explanation for the healed animal.
"How are darkspawn here?" Alastair asked, wincing at the viciousness of the mabari.
"Through the lower levels, obviously," Raviathan said. "Why are they here though? There aren't enough of them that this would be an attack against the army's rear. It's more like chaos. They can't know there were plans for this tower, can they?"
Alistair shook his head. "They aren't supposed to be that smart."
"They're smart enough to plot and engage in battles. We know that, but they can't have spies. How would they know this tower's importance?"
Alistair looked troubled by the idea. "It… well, it doesn't matter right now. We still need to get the signal lit."
Raviathan whistled to get the mabari's attention, their heads snapping up, ready for orders. "Let's keep going then."
A few dogs licked the injured mabari's muzzle as they crowded around the stairs. When Raviathan opened the door, the growl of a darkspawn echoed from beyond. The mabari flowed around Raviathan as if he were a stone in a river as they raced within. The howl of darkspawn followed in the mabari wake.
"Useful set of friends you managed to pick up," Alistair said.
Too bad I kept the unuseful one, Raviathan thought with a sidelong glare at the templar.
With the mabari pack on their side, their progress through the floor was much faster. Good thing too as even more darkspawn congregated the further along they went. They lost two dogs on the way, one to an ambush of archers and the second to the sword of a hurlock.
"Last floor," Alistair huffed when they got to the last room.
"Should be an open chamber," added the mage.
A bellow sounded from below, loud enough to challenge the storm's thunder that vibrated the walls.
"Another of those… that huge thing." The mage paled, panic making him shake. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip.
"There's no way those ogres can fit through the doorways. It's going to have to blast open every floor to get here. Come on. Once the signal's lit, we'll bar the way up here. We'll have a defensible stand."
As Raviathan led the way to the stairs, he heard the mage mutter, "Reminds me of the Harrowing." He glanced back to see Alistair put a hand on the mage's shoulder. What was the Harrowing? He ignored the sense of unease he felt at the templar's show of support to the mage.
As was their habit, the dogs ran forth into the chamber above. Raviathan had only a second to register the fire boiling over his head before he was flung back into the chamber. Sound and pressure deafened him as he flew. An image imprinted in his brain. Alistair and the mage below him, their stunned faces almost comical as they looked up at him. The smell of burning dogs. The lick of flames along the door arch, leaving behind scorch marks.
The floor slammed up to smack him, leaving his head ringing in shock. Through the haze of pain, he saw a blurred vision of Alistair's armor and mage robes running up a darkened path. The world rang at him, pounding at him with such force he couldn't think, only feel. Pain came in waves of intensity. Beneath the pain was the need to vomit.
A flat, wet surface moved repeatedly along his face. It took Raviathan a moment to realize it was the mabari he had healed. Focus. Warmth spread through his body as his healing magic took over, the magic growing stronger as his brain righted. Concussion. Raviathan sat up with great care. His balance was returning, but the tower still tilted sickeningly. Deep measured breaths. He wrapped an arm around the mabari's shoulder to keep steady as his magic continued to flow. Alright. I'm going to be alright.
Raviathan got to his feet. He was steadier with each step towards the final floor. Battle. He could hear them fighting. Hurry. The signal. Duncan and the king below. Have to light the signal.
The charred bodies of dogs lay in unmoving heaps. Cracked blackened skin still smoked. Raviathan thought of the mabari he had burnt back in Denerim, and he felt a stab of guilt.
A genlock stood in the center of the circular room. He was larger than the rest, stockier, and carried a mage's staff. Most darkspawn wore scant bits of armor, but this one had a full set of ancient, gnarled pieces. A blast of entropic energy hit Alistair in the chest, sending the templar back off his feet. The genlock wheeled around to the mage, another ugly burst of energy coming from its staff. The mage returned fire, but he was no match for the genlock. The genlock took the strike, growling at the pain but remained unfazed. The mage crumpled to the floor, gasping.
Raviathan ran on silent feet. If he could get to the genlock while it was distracted, a blade could end this fight. Alistair, the idiot, yelled a warning. The genlock turned to Raviathan with a growl. It lowered its staff, dark energy gathering around the blackened wood at its tip. Before the energy could be focused, Raviathan's sword arched down for a blow. The genlock countered with its staff, but the blow disrupted the spell and sent it back. Raviathan followed close. An aggressive attack could give the others time to recoup and mount their own attacks.
The genlock's staff whipped around, hitting Raviathan on the leg with a paralyzing blow. He fell to one knee, shocked by the strength of the monster. The face of the monster up close, full of hatred yet soulless, sent a new wave of fear and disgust through Raviathan. Its shriveled face like black, moldy fruit with holes for a nose, long yellow fangs jutting out in chaotic directions from a protruding maw, a pointed tongue too long and dripping with decay, but nothing matched its eyes. Black and holding the sin of the world.
Raviathan didn't want to fight it or even touch it. He wanted nothing more than to get away from this thing that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. Why, Maker? Why did you do this to us?
His dagger struck out at the face full of thorns and decay. He felt the bile rise in his throat as he did so. A sharp whack of the staff sent his hand aside. Raviathan rolled to the side, tried to get to his feet, but had to dodge again when the staff swung out.
A howl from the genlock rang out. Raviathan scrambled to his feet to see the injured mabari savaging the genlock's neck.
"Light the signal," he yelled at Alistair. Raviathan's torso twisted as he readied the force to send his blade into the genlock. A burst of magic sent him and the mabari back. Raviathan tried to keep his feet, but the force unbalanced him. Instead he rolled with the momentum and let it carry him back to his feet. The genlock's neck spurted with black blood. Its hand covered its stubby neck. The monster turned to the mabari. The dog was scrambling to his feet, readying for another charge.
Raviathan yelled as the staff lowered. Red lines of magic script laced around the dog. The glow of magic lit the room in an ominous red. The dog let out a last whine before he fell.
The room blurred as Raviathan raced forward. He didn't think, didn't plan. That poor, tortured, half blind dog would never move again. Raviathan's sword struck the defending staff. His foot kicked out next, slamming into the genlock's knee. He heard a sickening crunch. The staff tangled with his legs, knocking him off balance again. The genlock's face twisted, its grotesquery of a mouth gnashing at him. Raviathan fell with the attack, flowing with it, using the genlock's momentum. Grabbing the monster's staff, Raviathan twisted with his back to the ground to send the genlock over him and crashing on the floor. Raviathan flung the staff against the wall far out of reach.
In a quick motion, Raviathan drew a knife from his boot. He rolled on top of the genlock, his arm raised to force the blade deep. The genlock's hands came up in a desperate attempt to defend. Magic thudded into Raviathan. His body trembled in sudden weakness. All the fighting from the day hit him at once, and the adrenaline that kept him going drained out to leave him shaky.
No, you bastard! Gravity did most of the work as the blade sank down into the genlock's neck. Raviathan worked the blade with trembling muscles, pushing and pulling it back and forth with the weight of his body, watching as more thick blood gurgled out. Whatever force animated the monster left. The sin of the world left its eyes. The eyes were black, shiny as beetles, but nothing more than that. Hate left its mark in the monster's face, and the blood remained a poisonous ooze, but the thing was dead.
Raviathan sat next to the corpse. All he could do was sit with his head lowered and breathe. A fire blazed hot and bright from the chimney. Raviathan could feel the blaze feeding on oil and bursting on the roof above them. As the spell wore off, so did the induced weakness, but he wasn't ready to get to his feet.
The mage, leaning heavily on his staff, limped to the middle of the room. He spared a sorrowful glance at the dead mabari before looking to the two Wardens. Alistair got to his feet, the stiffness of his movements signaling his own injuries. He was about to speak when the mage gave two great jerks then fell back, two arrows sticking from his chest.
Alistair and Raviathan turned to see the hurlocks. One had its next arrow raised to fire while more streamed in from behind.
Raviathan tried to get to his feet, his weak muscles unwilling to move, shaking with the effort, when blackness fell.