Author's note: Thankfully, no more writers block! A big thank you to RatedRSuperStar87 and Infamous227 for their wonderful reviews, thank you to my fantastic beta: Almostinsane and of course a big thank you to all you wonderful people who have reviewed so far. Reviews make me smile, make me type faster and make Ishafel not kill Michael. A note on pairings, since a lot of you have asked. The parings in this story are, well, complicated. They are also highly plot orientated, so if I tell, It'll ruin the suspense and other plot points in the story. Eventually, it will all become clear. Which is probably not what you want to hear and I apologize. I hope you all enjoy this chapter and leave me lots of reviews! If you don't wish to review publicly feel free to PM me, I don't bite =)
-Scarlet
Because it's been awhile: I do not own Dragon age: Origins, Thedas, ect. (but I wish i did!)
Part 3: Cliffes of Red Blood
Chapter 3: More Problems
Dylan raised his staff to light the oil barrels, both to stop the evil and to signal the militiamen below to be ready even before he was all the way up the cliff. Ishafel streaked past him, bow drawn and had her feet planted as the first creature fumbled towards the barricades.
Without pausing to think about it, she fired an arrow at the shadowy hulking form.
The bolt passed through, landing in the ground beyond with a thunk.
"Cor! Did you see that?" One of the knights said under his breath, panicking.
The creature continued to shamble toward the fire and was suddenly illuminated, to ghastly results. Ishafel let out an elven explicative.
"Undead," Dylan confirmed. He gathered a bolt of energy in his staff and sent it flying into the shambling skeleton. The creature shattered on impact. As the horde began to pour down the road, he shouted last minute instructions.
"Aim for the head! The skull is where the spell should be stored!"
It occurred to him that in the future, if there was a future, he ought to force a detailed description of the current nameless horror from the besieged. Fire wouldn't exactly stop the undead, just turn them into flaming undead. As it was, the knights of Redcliffe seemed to be backing away slowly, tails between their legs. He cursed internally. He should have forced Mother Hannah to give them a blessing of some sort.
Ishafel nocked another arrow, she gave a moments pause as she aimed it, and then let it fly. The arrow struck the spine of undead squarely, knocking his skull off. The corpse dropped like a stone.
"For Redcliffe!" She cried.
Thankfully, Her rally cry seemed to bring the knights to their senses. They suddenly charged the undead threatening to break through the barricade.
"For Redcliffe!" Ser Perth echoed, "For the Arl!"
It could have been hours or minutes, nobody was sure, until the last corpse on the castle road fell. Ishafel was breathing hard, her quiver half empty and a neat row of corpses leading almost up to her position. Similarly, there was a large circle of undead, electricity still jumping from body to body, surrounding a rather drained looking Dylan. Indeed the only man looking more or less as he normally did was Dywn, who was muttering something under his breath about humans having no stamina.
Still, it appeared that the tide had been pushed back.
"Well," Ser Perth began, "that was..."
A frantic messenger scrambled up the hill. "The lake, they're attacking from the lake!"
Dylan whirled towards the water. He hadn't expected that, although he hadn't known to expect undead. It was a very good thing the both the Bann and Ishafel had insisted having the main force protect the chantry doors. Ishafel spirited down the hill, firing off arrows as she went.
"Knights! Guard the path!" He shouted before following suit. Maker, but that woman was fast! If he lived through this she was teaching him how to run like that!
Ishafel slammed into the battle blow like a fury. She barely had time to switch bow for dagger. The first two undead she felled took no notice of her, she was too quick. There was a terrified shriek somewhere to her right. Lloyd, the barkeep that Michael had cajoled into battle, was separated from the main group, closest to the lake, and fending off four undead on his own. Shouldering through the crowd, she tried to reach the man as he swung his rusty mace wildly. An undead got in her way, then a solider. There was a flash of red on her left and an arrow pierced through an undead head. A hunk of rock bulldozed two more out of the way. Ishafel finished off the rest, but Lloyd was still beating a corpse of a corpse with his mace well after it expired.
"It's dead", he said finally. She didn't really have anything to say to that. The man looked terrified and there was no place for comforting during battle.
"Stay with the group." she reminded him before whirling back into the fray. The assault was vicious and the undead were attempting to flank them, if the shadows on the cliff were any indication.
"Ishi! watch out!" She didn't have time to let the warning register before Michael had reached her, punched his arm out over her shoulder and stabbed his dagger neatly into through a creature's eye socket, destroying the skull. The bones clattered to the ground.
"You really need to be more careful." He chided.
Ishafel's dar'misan sailed by his ear a second later and the corpse sneaking up behind him hit the dirt.
"Now we're even." She said primly, clearly unimpressed by his theatrics.
The grin he gave her was positively feral. He grabbed her forearm and swept her away from an offending creature coming up on her right. He lunged and spun, neatly decapitating the thing. In response, Isahfel ducked a swinging greatsword and brought up her dar'misan up through the undead's ribcage to smash it squarely through the top of the skull. She raised one thin eyebrow at Michael as he observed her work, and smirked.
"Now don't get smug." He groused. "They're not all dead yet. Well, dead-er."
Dylan was barely able to keep his mana replenished he was casting spells so quickly. Sirius barked encouragement as he leapt to savage another boney throat. The nabari had taken up a position by him as soon as he came down from the castle road. It was a good thing too, that dog had saved his life more times now than he'd care to acknowledge. The undead were not abating, some of the corpses even looked years old, as though they had been dragged up from bottom of the lake. Maker knew what else was down there. The militiamen were looking worn and bodies were beginning to pile up.
Something had to be done.
Across the field, Morrigan watched him. How curious, he was losing mana far too quickly, even for such an intense fight.
Here goes, well it's certainly not nothing, he thought as he completed the spell. At first, nothing happened and then he felt a mighty surge of energy around him. White wisps latched onto the undead skeletons, sucking them dry. In turn, the energy was converting into mana, coursing into his empty well like rain on parched earth.
He fought the urge to throw back his head and holler. This felt great! Renewed, he slammed a particularly strong bolt of energy into three corpses at once blowing them to bits. It was then he realized, a bit dejectedly, that there was nothing else to kill.
Why did he wait to the end of the battle to cast the awesome spell?
The sun broke on the horizon. The militia men cheered. Their lives were saved.
And Dylan Amell was thoroughly put out.
"Dawn arrives, and we have survived the night. We are victorious!"
Ishafel noticed with regret that the crowd was quite smaller than it should have been, but the cheer they let out was genuine.
"Though this victory came at great cost, we must remember none of us would be here were it not for the good folk beside me. Thank you, my friends. Truly the Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in out darkest hour," Teagan announced.
"We were happy to help." Dylan said, "We're Wardens, it's what we do."
Sten sighed audibly. Thankfully, Mother Hannah took over with a prayer, and then Teagan began to speak again.
"With the Maker's favor, the blow we delivered today is enough for me to enter the castle and seek out your Arl! Be wary and watch for signs of renewed attack. We shall return with news as soon as we are able." Teagan turned to the group. "Now, we've no time to waste. I'm sorry to ask more of you so soon, but ready yourselves and meet me at the mill as soon as you are able. We don't know how long this peace will last."
It was agreed, largely through dark looks and bickering between Ishafel and Michael, that they need some time to prepare for what was to come. Exhausted from the fight and his new spell, Dylan took a moment to sit on a crate next to the chantry wall. Predictably, his mana was taking much longer to regenerate than usual.
"'Tis most unusual, that spell you cast. I have never seen it's like." Morrigan stood over him, blocking the rising sun and providing most welcome and attractive shade. She shoved something right under his nose and he barely had time to catch it before she dropped it and moved to sit beside him. A lyrium potion, Thank the Maker and all the saints that came after! He took a grateful gulp.
"A spell of Entropy, perhaps? Though I have made quite of study of it myself and not come across such thing."
He grinned mischievously. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, more interesting and frustrating to a mage than a spell they could not place. He had once seen a senior enchanter literally rip her hair out by the roots trying to figure out how a rival had manged to triple the potency of his spellward.
Morrigan gave him a sweet smile from her perch that had nothing to do with kindness.
"It's quite marvelous, isn't it? It's called Aura."
"And does it normally continue to drain your mana well after it's been cast?"
"Eh?" He hadn't seen that coming. "What do you mean?"
Her smile stayed in place, although it turned decidedly smug. "Have you not yet noticed that large chunks of your mana are being siphoned?"
Dylan shut his eyes and breathed deep, allowing his mind to drift into his own inner reserves. Sure enough there was a pull, it was discreet enough that he had mistaken it for weariness from the spell.
It worried him deeply. He was not usually this careless.
He followed the pull and found a thread of spell left. No, that wasn't right. It was the entire spell but stretched thin, receding into the lake and beyond.
Morrigan's voice boomed in his head. "Hold still, I'm going to sever it." There was a burning pain in his mana well. The spell came loose and a cry of rage reverberated down the thin cord. Dylan could feel the echo as Morrigan released the spell and the creature lost it's meal ticket.
"You have my thanks." He said quietly, no longer enjoying the sun. He was out of the tower not a month and he had already nearly succumbed to the Fade and Maker knew what twice.
Morrigan's look was hawkish, but underscored with concern. "Did they not teach you to look out for leeches ib the tower? They are quite common."
Of course he knew of leeches, theoretically. Everybody did. Demons that, rather than engaging or overwhelming a mage, would wait in the shadows of the Fade and latch onto a spell when a mage was distracted, draining them over time. Truly clever demons had the ability to leech for years and the mage might never catch on. It was one of the first thing tower apprentices were taught, and yet there were so many templars surrounding the Circle Mages that no leech would dare come near. They were scavengers, not fighters. Skills not practiced are often lost and Dylan had not practiced the safeguards for repelling leeches in years.
"It was never an issue." he said contemplatively.
She snorted. "Truly, 'tis a wonder you were not all possessed ages ago."
Indeed.
"I suppose this is all commonplace for you. Tears in the fade, leeches, the like." He replied.
"Of course. Flemeth made it very clear to me at a young age what would happen if I was not vigilant, both with my magic and in the Wilds."
"Did you ever wonder what life was like outside the Wilds, stuck at Flemeth's hut as you were?"
"Do we not have more important things to do at the moment?" She asked in a tone something like a retort.
He motioned to Ishafel, who had made herself comfortable on the ground and de-strung her bow. She was busily checking wood of the the stave for impurities. She had a fresh bowstring coiled beside her and a pile of salvaged arrows awaiting inspection. It was clear she wasn't going in until she was prepared. Beside her, or rather in the same general area, Sten worked on his greatsword while Sirius took a welcome nap in between them.
"Do you want the same lecture she gave Michael? I think Leliana is still trying to get him out of that shrub. Besides, I think you'll agree fighting the demon that caused all this requires a full mana well."
"Why do you ask me such questions? I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?" she whined.
Dylan watched Ishafel run her fingers down the length of the shaft thoughtfully. "I'm curious. What's wrong with that?"
Morrigan let out a chuckle. "Any number of cats could inform you of the answer to that question. But have it your way. I did wonder. In time, I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness,"
"And you managed to remain unnoticed?" Ishafel's questioning voice floated up from the ground. Morrigan inclined her head outward, as though she was throwing her words to the Dalish elf.
"For the most part. Flemeth taught me well. For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of civilized lands proved to be... overwhelming. I was unfamiliar with so much. So confident and bold was I, yet there was so much that Flemeth could have never prepared me for."
Dylan grinned widely. "Very daring, that sounds like you."
Morrigan laughed and gave him a true smile this time. "Equal parts daring and foolhardy, perhaps."
"I recall the first time I crept beyond the edge of the Wilds. I did so in animal form, remaining in the shadow and watching these strange townfolk from afar. I happened upon a noblewoman in her carriage, adorned in sparkling garments the likes of which I had never before seen, I was dazzled. This to me seemed what true wealth and beauty must be. I snuck up behind her and stole a hand mirror from the carriage. 'Twas encrusted in gold and crystalline gemstones." Dylan watched Morrigan's face light up at the memory and gave a half smile, trying to imagine the witch as a child. "I hugged it to my chest with delight as I sped back to the Wilds."
And the creature who lived in it, he mused. "What did Flemeth say? I can't imagine she was pleased."
Morrigan's wince confirmed his thoughts.
"She was not. She was furious with me. I was a child and had not yet come into my full power and I had risked discovery for the sake of a pretty bauble. To teach me a lesson, Flemeth took the mirror and smashed it upon the ground. I was heartbroken."
Ishafel paused for a moment in her work, the two mages could only see the halt in the sway of her cap of black hair. "But you were just a child." her tone was mournful. Dylan wondered how the Dalish must raise there children; she had treated all the children they had come across as treasures. And they were not even elven. She had practically stabbed Michael for talking a child out of a valuable family heirloom and gave the boy's sister such a sum of money for it that both he and Morrigan had twinged.
Morrigan frowned at the back of her head.
"And a foolish one. Flemeth was right to break me of my fascination. Beauty and love are fleeting and have no meaning. Survival has meaning. Power has meaning. Without those lessons I would not be here today, as difficult as they might have been."
Ishafel was still for a moment, as was Sten, surprisingly. Her shoulders lifted and receded in a shrug. Without a word she returned to work.
"They made you stronger, didn't they?" Dylan understood. For a mage outside the Circle survival and escape from detection must have been the whole world to her.
"They did, indeed. I find myself at times wondering what might have become of the girl with the hand mirror... but such fantasies have no place amidst reality."
He was about to reply, when she said rather abruptly. "Come, your mana well is full and we are wasting time.
Ishafel glanced over the stave again and had half a mind to ask the shem blacksmith if he had anything left that would do better. Master Ilen was an expert craftsman, but she highly doubted he ever planned for a flaming undead corpse to take a bite out of the stave. It was sound, for now, but there was a give in the wood she didn't like. As much as it pained her, she would have to keep an eye out for a new one. Resolving to wait a little longer, she restrung the bow and checked over the arrows, snapping the flawed ones to be sure they wouldn't find their way into less competent hands.
Leliana and Michael exited the smithy together, Leliana lovingly caressing a beautiful longbow with fancy spirals along the stave. "I still cannot believe he had a Orlesian style bow! She is beautiful."
Michael was looking at her with that odd look again. "Miss Leliana, you are so well versed in Orlesian weaponry it boggles the mind."
Immediately and almost imperceptibly, her manner changed. "Oh, but I was traveler in Orlais, and such things were common in the marketplaces there.
"A traveling minstrel with Orlesian training?" Michael gave her an insincere smile. "Sounds something I heard in a tale once."
"Oh! When we have time, you must tell me! I love stories." She skipped off to join Dylan and Morrigan at the bottom of the hill. Ishafel turned to follow, but Michael grabbed her arm, he leaned over to whisper in her ear. His breath tickled her skin.
"How much do you know about her, exactly?" he asked.
"Why?" She asked as she tried to pull away. He held her fast.
"Just so you know, traveling minstrels in Orlais are almost always spies."
Her blood went cold.
"I thought there was something off about her from the beginning. A Dalish elf and a mage fresh from the circle wouldn't know what to look for. But the signs are there."
"She was a chantry sister when we found her. There was no way for her to know we were coming."
His chuckle was breathy. "She knew who you were right? Insinuated her self into the group? Insisted on traveling with you?"
"So did you."
He chuckled again, hot breath ran down her neck. For a reason she couldn't place, or didn't want to, her heart sped up.
"Don't tell me you haven't noticed, Ishi. It would be a shame for the last Wardens in Ferelden to be slaughtered by a wolf in sheep's clothing in the middle of a Blight." He pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear almost unconsciously, fingertips bushing the point. "I don't want to see you get hurt. That's all."
"Ishafel! Michael!" Dylan stood at the base of the hill, his eyes were locked on Michael. "Let's go. Now."
Michael peeled himself away, and was almost to Dylan's position before Ishafel started to walk.
Dylan hung back from the rest of the group as they climbed the hill to meet Bann Teagan, walking besides a grim looking Ishafel.
"Are you alright?" He asked quietly.
"Hm?" She looked at him distractedly and the involuntary frown on his face deepened. Ishafel didn't get distracted.
"Are you alright?" He repeated, "Did he...What did he say to you?"
She through back to the insinuation, his breath tickling her neck.
"Nothing that can't be dealt with later." She sighed, "Let's focus on finding the Arl."
Dylan made a sound low in his throat that was not quite a growl and not quite a grunt, but it was definitely a sound of frustration. He did not like the grateful look on her face when Bann Teagan interrupted him. He broke away from her and moved to stand by Morrigan. Ishafel watched him go, only vaguely aware of the Bann's plan. She was brought back by Michael's squeal of annoyance.
"A hidden tunnel? Really, Teagan! Why didn't you just tell us about this yesterday! I could've been in and out well before our delightful soiree with those demonic horrors."
"We had no idea what was in there-"
"We have no better picture now. Those undead were not only from the castle." Morrigan interrupted languidly.
The Bann's nose winkled in aggravation.
"The town was not secure. Now, when we enter the castle-"
"Teagan!"
A new voice, unmistakeably Orlesian, cut him off. A woman in silks practically tripped over her expensive garb as she ran from the castle, trying to reach the Bann. A clumsy solider ambled after her.
"Oh, Teagan! Thank the Maker!" She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms about his neck. In turn Teagan embraced the frantic woman in surprise.
"Isolde?"
She didn't stop for pleasantries.
"I do not have much time to explain!" she rambled, her voice bordering on hysterics "I slipped away from the castle as soon I could and I must return quickly. And I...need you to return with me Teagan. Alone."
"Careful" Dylan said, looking over the mussed noble critically. "This could be an ambush."
Isolde gave Dylan a look that promised fire and damnation. He was very certain it was the textbook "disgusted Orlesian noble" look.
"What- who is this man, Teagan." She demanded.
"I'm sure you remember me, Lady Isolde." Alistair said with disdain. Ishafel moved toward him, discreetly squeezing his hand in support.
"Alistair, what are you doing here?"
Teagan motioned to Dylan and the others. "If it were not for their help, Isolde, I would not be here. I owe them my life."
"Pardon me...considering the circumstances..." Isolde's expression changed to contrition, but there was something in her eyes that Ishafel did not like. Her gaze darted to Dylan. Thankfully, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Teagan, thankfully, seem like the kind of shem who was on the brighter side. His face was furrowed as he tried to wring answers from her.
"Please, Isolde... we had no idea anyone was even alive within the castle. We must have some explanation!"
She bit her lip, properly chastised. " I...don't know what is safe to tell. There is a terrible evil within the castle, Teagan."
Dylan fought the urge to roll his eyes. More unspeakable evil and terrifying horrors; couldn't anybody just describe what the were actually seeing" 'oh, it's a shambling corpse' or 'A bearskarn is attacking me, help!' He was tired of walking into battle unprepared because people insisted on being obtuse.
"The dead waken an hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues. And I think...Connor is going mad. We have survived, but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death! You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle. You could reason with him, I do not know what else to do!"
Dylan hated hysterical women in general, but he hated lying, hysterical women even more. There was something about Isolde's story that didn't add up.
"What about the Arl? Does he still live?"
Isolde turned painfully hopeful eyes on him. "He does. He is being kept alive so far, thank the Maker."
"Kept alive?"
It was apparent from her face that Isolde had let something slip. Teagan blanched.
"Kept alive by what?
"Something the mage unleashed. So far it allows Eamon, Connor and myself to live, I do not know why. The others...were not so fortunate. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."
"Do you think this evil could be some kind of demon?" Ishafel asked Dylan.
Isolde let out a moan, "Oh, Maker's Mercy!
Dylan ignored the wailing lamentations as he stroked his beard in thought.
"It certainly sounds like it could be." He looked at Isolde, eyes narrowed. "Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling us everything?"
"I..I beg you pardon! That's a rather impertinent accusation!" she snapped.
"Not if it's true." Michael retorted. It was clear that he didn't like hysterical women either.
Isolde looked like she wanted to scream, and she did.
"An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me! What if it thinks I am betraying it? It could kill my Connor!"
The resistance on Teagan's face crumbled. Ishafel didn't like where this was going.
"Why must Teagan go alone?"
"For Connor's sake, I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan." She wrung her hands, reaching out to grab his sleeve. "Please Teagan, come back with me... must I beg?"
"Enough, woman," Michael snapped "We need to decide what to do!"
Teagan closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them they were clear and resolved."The king is dead and we need my brother now more than ever. I will return with you, Isolde."
"Oh, thank the Maker! Bless you, Teagan! Bless you!"
Ishafel shook her head. Michael ran a hand through his hair. "This is a mistake, Teagan. You are going to get yourself killed!"
"I cannot let her return alone. Perhaps I can help Connor or Eamon. Perhaps this is really a trap, but this is my family, Michael. I must try." Teagan motioned to them, and Ishafel, Dylan and Michael moved away from the group. Leliana prevented Isolde from following by wrapping the woman in a warm hug and speaking kind words about the Maker's grace.
Clever, that.
"I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable. Here is what I propose: I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door."
He pressed a heavy ring into Ishafel's palm.
"Perhaps, I will distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you say?"
"Wouldn't it make more sense to bring Ser Perth and the others through this hidden passage as well?
"A small group will move quicker and is less likely to be noticed."
"Very well." Teagan nodded."Remember, Eamon is the priority. Myself, Isolde, we are all expendable."
Ishafel snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, what is the point of all the precautions if we don't intend to save everyone?"
"She's right," Michael agreed, a fierce look in his eye, "We'll not abandon you, Teagan"
"My friends, Truly the Maker smiled on me when he sent you to Redcliffe."
Tegan headed towards Isolde with a final farewell. In a moment they were over the rise and out of sight.
It was agreed that Sten and Sirius would lead the knights to the portcullis to wait, The rest of the party headed inside the unassuming windmill. The dark, musty interior smelled strongly of hay and grist.
"So where did Teagan say the passage was?"
"Uhh..." Michael, Ishafel and Dylan looked at each other. Before anyone could say anything, Leliana let out a sound of satisfaction, her boot slamming against a clearly hollow portion of the floor.
"Here we are. Not hidden well at all. It's a wonder other people don't know of this."
Ishafel handed her the signet ring and she swung the door back revealing a dark, foreboding hole.
"Well, who wants to go first?"
He felt two hand push him forward, it could only be Morrigan, and with an oof! Dylan fell into the passage with a thump. Thankfully, it was not too deep or wide and easily lit by a spell wisp. They followed the little ball of light forward to a door that led into a dank stone room lined with cells.
"The dungeon?" Leliana pondered "But of course, it is the same way in the tales, no? I wonder-"
Her musing was cut off by screaming that Dylan found oddly familiar. Hurrying down the corridor, he slammed a Stonefist into three corpses who looked to be harrying a prisoner. They fell to pieces on impact. It was so quiet, that Dylan thought they had managed to kill the poor sod.
"Hello, is someone there?"
He thought he must be hearing things for a moment. It couldn't possibility be who he thought it was.
He approached the cell hesitantly, not wanting to deal with what, or rather, who was inside. But of course he had heard right the first time.
"Thank the Ma- Dylan?"
"Jowan."