This took longer to write than expected, and is largely a transitionary chapter. The fun part is that it's a transition into my first major (okay, second if you count having two heros, and Michael) cannon change. The next couple chapters will be mostly original plot stuff, not taken from the game and will mark a change in the relationship between Dylan and Ishafel. I had meant to add some of that to this chapter, but it was getting quite long and when I wrote the last sentence it felt like a good place to end it. Thank you to the reviewers from last time and for almostinsane for putting up with my inability to spell certain places correctly. Sorry about that XD. I hope, as always, that you enjoy the chapter and that you give me lots of reviews, even if it's just thumbs up. It gives me an idea of how I'm doing and helps me to pace the story.

~Scarlet

Part 3: Cliffes of Red Blood

Chapter 4: Blind Faith

It seemed the Maker had a wicked sense of humor and He enjoyed laughing at Dylan's expense.

"Andraste's Flaming Sword! Jowan? YOU caused all this? Of all the stupid, harebrained-" He snarled, "What happened to 'I only learned blood magic to protect us'? Maker damned fool."

Morrigan stared at the whimpering man in puzzled disappointment. "This is a blood mage? Truly?"

"Dylan! It-it's not what you think! I just-"

"Oh, what in the bloody Fires of Tevinter is it exactly?" Dylan raised both arms skyward in exasperation. "Whatever happened to the grand plan of living on a little farm somewhere and never using any magic ever again? They were going to send me to Aeonar! Aeonar! With the thin veil and the soul sucking demons and the inability to defend yourself against them! Maker knows what happened to poor Lily with the chantry spiriting her away. I wouldn't be surprised if she was in Aeonar now! You remember Lily? The woman you loved." His voice was rose to a fever pitch as all the things he had never been able to say bubbled out in a rage. "The only reason they let me go was because I was conscripted."

Dylan was so worked up he didn't see Jowan's face crumple at the mention of his former love's name.

He had actually thought, ignoring overwhelming odds to the contrary, that perhaps Jowan had escaped. Despite his rather blatant betrayal, perhaps somewhere he was remorseful for his crimes and was trying to start over. But here he was; in a dungeon! For however inadvertently, loosing a demon on Redcliffe.

He couldn't tell whether he had been simply naïve or a fool. Or both.

All they had done, the sacrifice he had consciously decided to make, thrown back at him like it was nothing. Well! He wouldn't make that mistake again. The look on his face must have been terrifying, he thought irritably, Jowan was flinching back from the bars.

"Dylan, this is not the time to be-" Leliana started, reaching out to touch his shoulder. The look he gave her was so searing that she drew away, frightened.

Ishafel drew her bow, sighing. "Would you like me to kill him?"

That pulled him out of his internal ranting.

"What!" Dylan and Jowan started at the same time.

"I was not aware you were betrayed." She said calmly. Her voice was like cold water in a forge, soothing the heated steel. "You have my sympathies. Among the Dalish, traitors, unless they prove themselves otherwise, are put to death. So I ask again, would you like me to kill him? Or do you simply wish to stand here volleying insults forever and increase our chances of being found?"

Jowan stood silently, waiting for Dylan to make up his mind. Ishafel's eyes darted to glance at him then at Dylan. Whatever would be said of the Blood Mage, it was clear the man had decided not to shrink from his fate, not this time.

Dylan closed his eyes against his own frustration. He wanted to want to kill Jowan, he wanted at least feel less of a fool, but killing Jowan wouldn't change anything. He sighed and Ishafel placed a steadying hand on his forearm.

"No, don't kill him." He inhaled, exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. "What are you doing here, Jowan?"

"I was only trying to help!" The apostate answered. "They told me-" The whine in the protest snapped Dylan's tenuous hold on his temper.

"Help! Since when has unleashing demons ever helped anybody! Do you even know what's happened here?"

Ishafel's grip on his arm tightened "Dylan... let him speak."

"Please." The pleading left Jowan's voice, replaced with an odd sort of reservation, "I know how it seems. Poisoning the Arl was a terrible thing, but I'm not the one who's behind everything else going on here."

"Is that what happened?" Michael lifted cold green eyes to stare angrily at the captured mage. "Can it be reversed?"

"I don't know." Jowan answered, shrugging "I was never any good at healing magic-"

"No, your skill was sucking the life out of things! Entropy, of all things! Poison, Jowan? Really..."

"Dylan..." Ishafel voice was soft but firm. He glowered at her as attempted to calm himself.

"You are- or were- a Circle Mage, no? What would you stand to gain, poisoning the Arl?" Leliana asked curiosity getting the better of her. She had moved beside Michael, placing four people between herself and Dylan.

"The Templars caught me at the edge of the lake." Jowan look a deep breath as he remembered the scene "I thought I was going to die..."

"Would have served you right..." Dylan muttered. Jowan sighed.

"But then soldiers came, drove off them off."

"Soldiers? From the army? But common solders do not have authority over..." Leliana wondered aloud.

"They brought me to Teyrn Loghain. He said I would be doing a service for the crown. The Arl was a threat to the kingdom. He offered to fix things with the circle for me! All I wanted was to go back and...I thought I would be making up for what I did. To Lily. To you."

Jowan paused to catch his breath. Dylan let out his, unaware that he had been holding it. He laid his own hand on the one Ishafel was resting on his forearm. She looked up at the contact, all falcon-like fury and judgment, before training her eyes back on Jowan.

She would never betray him, he realized, for all he had known her a few weeks. They were in this together. That fact was pacifying.

"But why you of all people?" Leliana continued to try to make sense of the situation, "You are an apostate, yes, but I think the Teyrn would have more...experienced options at hand."

"I was hired as a tutor for the Arl's son. Connor had begun showing...signs. Lady Isolde was terrified that the Circle of Magi would take him away for training."

"Connor? A mage?" Alistair wasn't the only person who was surprised.

Jowan nodded. "She sought an apostate to train her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. The Arl had no idea."

Michael shrugged. "It's not all that uncommon actually. The nobles of Antiva and Orlais regularly do just that sort of thing." He snorted, "And Isolde is Orlesian after all..."

"But the Arl didn't know?"

Jowan shook his head. "She said he would do the right thing, no matter what the cost. She didn't want to lose her son." Remorse played on his face. "He was a good man, and a caring father."

"Understandable, if not incredibly misguided." Ishafel remarked. Michael smirked.

"What he really means, Ishi dearest, is that she did not want to lose the heir of Redcliffe. After all, they were only able to conceive the once. With Connor unable to inherit, Eamon would be in his right to put her aside to seek a younger, more fertile bride."

"You really believe that?" Dylan asked, nonplussed.

"I know it, and it makes sense. Why she would insist everything was Jowan's doing? She could blame him for infecting her son and no one would be wiser to the boy's talents. She could start again with someone new. Probably Orleisian"

"Connor tore the fade." Jowan explained.

"Obviously," Morrigan sent him a withering glance.

"But there is more to it than that." Dylan stroked his short beard in thought, "there has to be.

"What do you mean?" Jowan asked.

"Imagine you are a child with powers you've only just begun to understand. He said, teasing the thought from his mind, "Your beloved father is deathly ill and your mother powerless. How very helpless you must feel. How very vulnerable you must be. If somebody, or something came and said they could fix it all, make it how it used to be; wouldn't that be worth it?"

Jowan's eyes widened. "Are you saying he made a compact? One so young?"

"It would make sense, wouldn't it? Why the demon keeps Isolde and Eamon alive, why it sent for Teagan. Keeping the family safe and unharmed must be the demon's part of the deal. Blood mages commune with demons for years and don't become abominations. Look at Tevinter."

"So now what?" Alistair asked, "I'm assuming that nothing you just said is good."

"We deal with the problem." Dylan sighed. He gave his caged former friend a long look.

"What is it you want, Jowan?" he asked.

A spark lit in Jowan's eyes. "A chance to fix this! Maker, I've made so many mistakes! Disappointed so many people!" His eyes lingered on Dylan, "I want a chance to make this right!

Dylan quirked an eyebrow. "After all you've done? How can you?"

The man went quiet, considering. "It's a start anyway. I don't know if I'll ever be able to. But I need to try."

Jowan was resolved. There was a thread of iron in his voice, one of the reasons Dylan remembered, Jowan had been his friend in the first place. While most mages at the tower walked along the bright, shiny path of obedience and self sacrifice the templars had laid out for them, Jowan, although less talented a mage than most, never failed to stray because of what he wanted. As a human being, not a tool of the Chantry. Life was not over for him simply because was born as mage, and nobody would ever convince him otherwise. That was worth saving. He was worth saving.

"Ishafel, let him out."

"Why?" Ishafel and Jowan asked at the same time.

"Because we can't afford to linger here any longer."

"But what am I supposed to do?" Jowan looked confused.

"Just help. Help in any way you can. But for once, don't run away. Make my Maker damned faith in you mean something."

Ishafel fiddled with the lock, failed, and Leliana took over. After a few moments, Jowan was free and disappeared into the bowels of the castle without a word to anyone.

"Well," Michael snorted as they continued down the passage. "We'll never see him again."

"Shut up, Michael." Dylan shot over his shoulder with a glare that could rival one of Ishafel's.

The shambling corpses in the next tunnel proved that they had been noticed, but the amount was small and Dylan hoped against all odds that they had just been left there as guards rather than a harbinger to their arrival. The passage led into a small cellar that had once been filled with wine. Michael and Leliana both pilfered remaining bottles when they thought nobody was looking. Ishafel pocketed a statue that reminded her of Sten. Up a ladder they went and found themselves a small unfurnished room.

"Ah," Michael said approvingly, "Castle Redcliffe."

"Stay quiet, and low." Ishafel said, her voice barely audible. "We have no idea what maybe walking these halls.

"Actually, it's probably more undead." Dylan put in, hoisting himself out of the hole in the ground. "From my understanding, demons aren't terribly creative, but I agree, let's not let them know we're here."

Morrigan snorted in laughter.

They headed out into the hallway only to here a shuffling behind the door across from them. Very quietly, Leliana snuck to the door and began working on the lock.

Dylan shook his head. "Leave it, could be a trap."

Her blue eyes were earnest. "What if it's servants who escaped? The door is locked, after all."

Dylan closed his eyes in acquiescence. He wanted her to be right. He wanted to hope, but of course it was no such thing.

"Shades!" He shouted as the creatures from the wrong side of the fade rushed them from a Chantry pulpit. Luckily, there were only three and they made quick work of them. Disappearing into dust rather than joining the bodies on the floor. A brief examination of the room showed that another door had been violently ripped off it's hinges. The multitude of corpses on the floor explained what happened after the demons had breeched the defenses.

"Next time, we leave the door locked." Michael directed. "We should make for the courtyard as quickly as possible. Leave the survivors." Dylan nodded in agreement. Leliana mouth fell open, appalled.

"I promised Owen I would look for his daughter, I intend to keep that promise." Ishafel argued, "Besides, Leliana has the right of it. If anyone is alive, we should get them out. No telling what the demon might do when we confront it."

Dylan's eyebrows knotted together. Ishafel was right of course, but it would eliminate the element of surprise to be sure. They had killed so many undead the night before. How could there be anyone left? Michael agreed, he said as much, but both Ishafel and Leliana gave twin looks that brooked no argument and went to work on the next door.

"Those ladies will be the death of us," he mumbled to Dylan.

"I would not want to be a captive you're sent to rescue," Alistair snapped, moving to protect the ladies from whatever might come through the next door. "Have some compassion."

"What good is compassion if it gets you killed?" Morrigan replied.

Dylan agreed, but was thoughtful. After all, Ishafel would be dead if he hadn't bothered to rescue her. Everybody made ready to attack as soon as the door swung open, but they only found themselves in what looked to be Redcliffe's armory. A quick check over for supplies revealed a very nice shield for Alistair, which Michael had to talk him into taking.

"It belongs to the Arl," Alistair argued.

"Whose life you are currently trying to save." Michael reminded him. "You have a better chance of completing that mission If you do not have a shield that splinters at the first shade who rams you."

"He's right, Alistair. For once." Ishafel commented, while busily trying to open a chest with strange carvings on the front. It swung open to reveal a long object wrapped in black silk. Lifting it out, the silk fell away and she found she was holding a beautiful bow stave. It was made of sylvanwood, that much she could tell, but it had been stained darker, almost black and had a carving of a fox running down the length. It was only slightly shorter than Ilen's bow; and made by a master craftsman, that much was plain.

Leliana whistled at the sight of her. "Cor, what a beauty! Why would anyone keep that locked up?" Squatting next to Ishafel to inspect it further, she let out a surprised gasp when she saw the carving.

"That's the mark of the Black Fox!"

"The Black Fox?" Ishafel looked puzzled. "Who is that?"

"Have you not heard of him? He is a legend in Ferelden!" Michael said, amused.

Leliana was ran her hand down the length of the stave. "I will tell you the stories sometime..."

"Well, he certainly had a nice bow." She pulled an extra string from her pack. "I will...borrow... this, for now." The wood warmed under her hands and molded to her grip, almost like magic.

They kept moving, encountering only minor resistance as they traveled through what must have be the barracks and servants quarters. Despite their noble intentions, they had found no survivors as they walked through the eerie halls. Ishafel insisted on opening every door they could find. She swung open the latest one and had to catch herself before she fired her bow automatically. The shriek she that ensued was human, not undead. A terrified slip of a girl stood in what looked to be some sort of grain closet. The dark circles under her eyes made it clear she hadn't slept or eaten in days, but she was most certainly alive.

"Please! Don't hurt me!" she begged, shivering in fear, but she still managed to meet Ishafel's eyes.

"Calm down," Dylan moved past Ishafel as she lowered her weapon. "No one is going to hurt you.

"I..I'm sorry," She replied wearily, "I'm so frightened, the monsters are everywhere!"

"Who are you, my dear?" Dylan asked soothingly, Ishafel backed away to give them some space and watched him.

"My name's Valena, the arlessa's maid. Is she...alright? What happened to everyone?"

"Valena? The smith's daughter?" Dylan looked startled. Ishafel's eyes shone in triumph.

"You know my father?" Her face filled with hope.

"Yes and he's waiting for you. There is a tunnel leading out in the dungeon."

"B-but the monsters..."

"We've killed most of them. It's safe." Ishafel assured her. There were merits to killing everything you encountered occasionally.

"I'll find my way, I can run fast and I know the castle. Thank you!"She took a moment to collect herself, before scrabbling down the hall.

Ishafel said nothing, and she didn't have to. The corners of her mouth were upturned in a self satisfied 'I told you so' smile that got under even Dylan's skin.

"There is no way you could have known she would be the only survivor in the whole castle." Michael grumbled.

"She was alive, wasn't she?"

"There was no way you could have guaranteed that."

"Well, I think it's wonderful that she was alright after all," Leliana admonished. "It's what we all should have be hoping for."

Michael ignored her. "This is not a reason for you to get insufferable, Ishi." He warned.

Ishafel open her mouth to reply, Dylan beat her to the punch. "Enough, this is not the time for your bickering."

Nodding, she continued on at Dylan's side. But she didn't stop smiling.

The managed to make it through the kitchen with minimal trouble and into the courtyard where they were finally properly ambushed. A sharp bark sounded as they were inundated by shades, skeletons, and what looked, to Dylan's surprise, to be a Revenant. It was followed by the clatter of shields and armor.

"Warden." Sten's voice was cool against the din. "The gate."

Dylan turned his back to the Revenant to go for the switch and found himself instead soaring towards the creature with a very unmanly 'AHHHHHHHH!' The Revenant swung his sword up and cut deep into Dylan's right shoulder. Stifling a cry, he placed a palm out and let the lightning flow from his hand into the shade's armor. The Revenant was apparently too strong for that old trick; the shock didn't phase him. Arm burning, Dylan swung up his staff to stop a blow to his throat, an arrow whizzed past his ear in to the dark fabric of the creature itself but did nothing. The Reverent slammed into him with his shield, knocking the staff away. Dylan was extremely thankful that it had not fallen out of his hand. The sword came up again and this time he was not quick enough to stop it from cutting into his side. Before the creature could complete the swing there was a dagger plunged into the Revenant's arm, forcing it to disengage. Alistair slammed into it with his shield like a battering ram, forcing its attentions away. Ishafel wrapped an arm around the good part of his waist, pulling him away from the battle. Michael stood by the switch as Sten, Ser Perth and his men poured into the compound like a cleansing balm. A few seconds later, and the battle was done.

Bleeding enough to make a blood mage giddy, Dylan was forced to recline on the steps.

"Ser Mage!" Ser Perth cried out, alarmed, "You are injured. Rothiem! Scaldy! Assist the mage back to the town proper!

"Dylan..." Ishafel began, crouching down to take a better look at the gash at his shoulder.

"Just..." He panted, "Just give me a minute..."

Drawing from his well, which replenished fairly quickly now that the leech had been severed, he focused on his wounds using his mind's eye to coax the blood back into his veins and forcing the broken vessel to repair. Next was the muscle, he grit his teeth as he pushed mana into the tissue and made thick ropes of muscle interweave. Ishafel looked at his shoulder with awe. The gap in between neck and shoulder was gone, only the new, pink skin and rip in his robe proved the wound had been there. The wound in his side was thankfully not deep and healed quicker than its cousin. Dylan let out a breath and slowly rose. It would remain to be seen if he had done a good as job as Ishafel apparently thought he had.

Ser Perth smiled. "Well done, Ser Mage. Shall we go inside? We are anxious to see our Arl."

Dylan extended his hand in invitation and the Knight ascended the stairway, followed by his men. Sirius circled Dylan, whining as the mage rubbed his shoulder.

"Go on, boy. I'm fine, just need a mom-"

"How many moments do you intend to take?" Morrigan snapped. "Will you need one in battle as well?" Dylan frowned, as he walked towards her he stumbled. Part from exhaustion, part from Sirius darting back and forth in front of him. The Mabari version of fussing.

"He will be fine," Ishafel stung back, surprising Morrigan as she took the mage's arm.

"It wasn't like you lifted a finger to help him." Alistair noted coldly. Morrigan's eyes narrowed.

"Is there space in your remarkably small brain to remember that not all mages are healers? Or do we all look the same to you?"

Dylan tried his best not to laugh at the two of them, it was not the time for it, and braced himself for what might be inside.

Sten sighed as he took up the rear. Wardens.

He knew it couldn't be good when he saw the horror on Ser Perth's face. Bracing himself for whatever the worse might be, they barreled into the room.

And found Bann Teagan dancing.

Isolde stood submissively at the side of a boy not yet ten years old. He was wearing a malicious smile that did not quite fit his face.

"What in the Maker's name-" Ser Perth whispered under his breath.

Dylan took one look at the boy and stood a little straighter, he chanced a glance at Morrigan who nodded her agreement.

That was not a ten year old boy.

"Ah, these must be the visitors you told me about, Mother. The ones who defeated my soldiers."

"Yes, Connor." She answered obediently, flinching.

So this was what she had been hiding. The demon was not holding her child captive. The demon was her child. Connor's unfocused eyes peered around the room, fixing on Ishafel.

"What is it, mother? I can't see it well enough."

"This is an elf, Connor. You...you've seen elves before...we have them here in the castle."

"Ah, yes, I remember! I had their ears cut off and thrown to the dogs. They chewed for hours."

Sirius gagged in disapproval.

"Shall I send you to the kennels then?" The boy threw his head back and laughed, voice warped. Dylan shielded Ishafel protectively, raising his staff in threat.

"And what is this? A mage..." darkness spread over the boy's face "Come to end my games, have you? Spoilsport. Well, that can be fun as well." Menace flooded the room.

"Connor, I beg of you..." Isolde was practically in tears, "Don't hurt anybody."

Just like that, to the confusion of all but especially the two mages present, the demonic presence evaporated.

"Mother? What's happening? Where am I?" This was the little boy, the frightened child, but how was it possible? The boy would have to have prolific talent to fight off a possession like that. Dylan didn't lower his staff, but he did tentatively reach out to the boy.

"Connor?" He tried.

Isolde's eyes overflowed with tears, "Connor! Can you hear me?"

The malice returned with a vengeance. "Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me."

"Maker's breath! What has happened here?" Ser Perth looked at the boy as though he had never seen him before.

"Grey Wardens, Please don't hurt my son. He is not responsible for what he does!" Isolde begged tiredly.

"So he is evil you spoke of." Ishafel asked from over Dylan's shoulder.

Isolde fell to the floor, sobbing. "No, no! It is that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon. He started all this. He summoned this demon! Connor was... just trying to help his father."

The boy's eyes glowed a ultraviolet purple, which prompted Dylan to decide that they were dealing with a Desire Demon. This was not going to be easy. Not by a long shot. He gave Morrigan a sidelong glance. They had not discussed much magic during there travels, and he realized only now it was a oversight on his part. She was Flemeth's daughter. Exactly how much did she know about demons. He only vaguely listened as the demon, who must have somehow been affected by the boy's young age, threw a tanturm.

"It was a fair deal!" He snapped in a petulant voice. "Father is alive just as I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world. Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"

"Nobody tells him what to do. Nobody!" Tegan echoed, giggling like it was the funniest thing he ever heard. Ishafel was filled with sorrow. Such a brave shem brought so low.

"Quiet, uncle! I told you would happen if you kept shouting. Didn't I? Yes, I did. But let's keep things civil, shall we. These people will have the audience they seek. Tell us, what have you come here for?" the demon asked in a parody of holding court. Dylan sensed minute probing into the fabric of time and space around him. Morrigan was feeling out the rip in the fabric of the fade. He had to buy her time.

"We have come to see the Arl." He answered, hoping engaging the demon in conversation would make things easier. It did appear to enjoy the sound of it's own voice.

"A concerned well-wisher? Why didn't you say so? All this sneaking around and killing is so very unnecessary." It laughed. "But Father is so very ill, we really shouldn't disturb hm. Should we, mother?"

"I don't think..." Isolde began, a small ember of hope flaring before it was quickly banked. Her quavering words sent the demon into a rage.

"No, of course you don't. Every since you sent the knights away you don't do anything but deprive me of my fun. I crave excitement!" He pointed an accusing finger at Dylan."This man spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village. And now he'll repay me!"

Before proper warning could be given, a burst of energy catapulted out the child demon, ensnaring Dylan. He gave a hideous shutter, and moaned as though he were in great pain before collapsing on the flagstones. Michael vaulted forward, daggers drawn, but had not closed the distance halfway when he was swatted into the wall by the boy. Connor darted out of the room, and his guards sprang to action. Isolde retreated into a corner as her own men and the Bann attacked.

"Do not harm the Bann!" Perth shouted frantically over the sound of battle. The strength and speed of Ishafel and Michael combined cut a brutal circle around Dylan's fallen body. The battle took only a few minutes and Bann Teagan was mercifully returned to them by a sound punch in the jaw by one of Sten's massive fists. Isolde helped him up as he came to his senses, tears in her eyes. "Teagan! Thank the Maker you are alright. I would never have forgiven myself if you had died!"

The others in the room attended to their own. Dylan's breath was even, his heartbeat steady. From all appearances, it looked as though he had just fallen asleep.

"Dylan! Dylan! Lethallin, wake up!" Ishafel knelt beside his body, shaking his shoulders, frantic as she tried to wake him. Michael frowned. "Dylan!" He shouted. slapping the mage hard across the face. Not even a grunt.

"He's been pulled into the Fade." Jowan's voice was small, as though it wasn't sure if it were welcome. He eased out from his hiding place behind a doorframe and came to kneel beside his friend.

Isolde's face twisted in horror. "You! What are you doing here?" A mirror for Dylan's own words a few hours earlier.

Ishafel locked on him, dark eye molten. "Can you help him?"

Beside her, Michael was less forgiving. "This is your demon. Can't you call it off?"

Jowan gave him an offended look. "I already told you, I never summoned any demon! This Connor's doing. The boy has become an abomination."

The Bann blanched, Isolde sobbed, but Ishafel's look was steady.

"So what do we do now?"