51. Mother and Son

"So… what do you suppose our chances are?" Alistair's voice called over the din of battle. "That Eamon's still alive, I mean?"

Percival beheaded another walking corpse, then pivoted with his shield to block an axe that came in at his back. Hugo wove around him, sinking his teeth into the shin of Percy's newest attacker. "If the source of this is, in fact, his son? Probably better than any of these poor saps." He dodged back from a sundering blow, then kicked out and sent the undead staggering backwards, right into the Wardens' prisoner.

The mage cried out and backed away, releasing a pulse of energy that repelled the corpse away from himself. Percy bashed the undead with his shield, sending it to the ground. He wasted no time in crushing the thing's skull with a stomp of his steel boot.

Then, while Alistair and Hugo flanked the last cluster of undead in the castle's chapel chamber, Percy turned a sour look to the mage. "Can't you cast anything useful? A fireball, or something?"

"Blood magic doesn't work on the undead," Jowan replied defensively. "They don't have any blood!"

"There's more to magic than stabbing yourself, you know," Percy growled, turning to slice apart one corpse that had escaped the ex-Templar's circle of re-death.

Ever since they'd stumbled upon the blood mage, Alistair had been all for leaving him in his cell to rot, but Percy figured they might as well make use of the mage's claims of wanting to set things right. Still, Percy was watching him carefully for deceit. If the mage showed any signs of betrayal, Hugo was under orders to take him down in the most vicious way possible.

Maybe it was the uncomfortable echo of this whole situation that had Percy so on edge. Redcliffe castle looked very much like Highever from the inside, and this wasn't Percy's first time forging through hostile corridors during an enemy siege in search of the castle lord.

At least this—forging through the corridors of the haunted castle—felt more productive than defending the town had. After spending an entire day gathering supplies, shaking sense into the smith, bullying the tavern keeper into being more than dead weight, and flat-out bribing the only combat-capable person in town to help them... the battle for the village had still been a rout.

Percival and Hugo had watched the road with what remained of the arl's knights. It was depressing, how happy they had been to take orders from anyone, much less someone as inexperienced with such things as Percy. It was only after most of the men had fallen to the shambling hordes (and they were a horror that did not even bear thinking upon), and Percy was forced to retreat down to the village proper, that he saw just how ragged Alistair was run after directing the townspeople in holding off the undead coming up from the lake. By the time Percy got there, the blond Warden had apparently run out of pseudo-inspiring speeches.

In the end, they'd managed to withstand the attack, but barely, the dregs of the arl's men backed against the chantry doors. Many of the men believed it was Andraste's own grace that had kept the undead from breaking through. Percival wasn't sure whether he should pity them or envy them for such a sentiment.

Honestly, he didn't remember much of the night. Most of it was a blur of bashing and bloodshed. All he knew that he'd been bruised and bone-weary—and therefore spectacularly short of temper—come the following morning.

And so, when Lady Isolde had come down from the keep and pulled Teagan away, Percy had been more than happy to forge through the bowels of Redcliffe Castle in an attempt to track down and destroy the source of these evils. It had just so happened that said path led through the dungeons, and thus past a certain maleficar.

Hugo leaped on the last of the corpses and started tearing into it and, the chapel skirmish done, Alistair stormed over and glared at Jowan. "So this is a lot of trouble you stirred up, isn't it?"

"I told you, I'm sorry." The mage's eyes darted between them, but neither Warden showed anything but hostility. "I promise… if we can get to Connor, I can make things right."

"I still don't like the idea of working with a blood mage," Alistair grumbled. Even so, he wiped the rotting gore off his sword and sheathed it.

"Much less the blood mage that enabled the release of an army of undead," Percy agreed. "It makes Kazar look like a child playing with flint and steel."

Jowan blinked. "Kazar… Surana? You know Kazar Surana?"

Alistair snapped his fingers. "Jowan. Now I remember where I've heard that name before!" He pointed at the mage. "You're the blood mage friend who almost got Kazar Tranquilled." A ghost of a smirk crossed the ex-Templar's face. "Really good at messing things up for other people, aren't you?"

"Tra-Tranquilled?! Is he all right?"

"Oh, certainly," Alistair said with a smirk that bordered on cruel. "Last I heard, he was quite contentedly enchanting weapons. They say the life of a Tranquil is very peaceful, you know."

"Oh, Maker…" Jowan sank to his knees, his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry, my friend… what have I done?"

Percy arched an eyebrow at Alistair. "That was a bit vindictive, don't you think?"

"You know what? I feel much better about working with him now," Alistair sniggered, then raised his voice. "I said almost, genius. He's fine, and as hot-tempered as ever, I suspect. He's probably setting cute little woodland critters on fire as we speak."

Jowan peeked up at them from between his fingers, as if hesitant to believe him. "I don't understand… woodland critters? Why wouldn't he be at the Tower?"

"Well, he did get kicked out of the Circle. That part was your fault, from what I understand." At Percy's questioning look, Alistair shrugged. "Felicity told me a little of what happened. For example, our friend here doesn't have an intact phylactery, so the Templars can't track him."

Percy nodded. "Which was why Lady Isolde could hire him without fear of the Templars knocking down the walls in search of a malificar." He knelt to inspect Hugo as the mabari sat beside him. The dog's muzzle was absolutely caked with congealing blood, but there was no helping that.

"Right, which led to this whole mess with the army of undead, and Connor being an abomination, and whatnot." Alistair glared at Jowan, eyes narrowed. "I hate to say it, but apostates like Jowan and Morrigan make a really good case for why mages should stay locked up in the Tower, and Kazar, legitimately free mage or no, doesn't exactly help either."

Percy did his best not to wince at the mention of the witch. "At least there's Felicity."

Alistair hummed thoughtfully. Then, his mouth tilted into a grin. "If we tried to lock her back into the Tower, I suspect she'd lecture our ears off on the far-reaching moral implications or something. What a way to go deaf…"

Percy suppressed an eye roll, then stood, content that Hugo was uninjured. "We should get moving." He grabbed the mage by the collar of his ratty robes and pushed him forward, and Alistair fell into step beside him.

They ran into more undead as they delved deeper into Redcliffe castle, but never quite as many as the chapel free-for-all, meaning everyone—including the handful of knights they let in through the front gate—managed to keep their limbs intact all the way to the main hall. More's the pity, in the case of the mage.

What they saw when they got to the arl's audience hall turned Percival's stomach: Teagan dancing and carrying on like some sort of jester, Lady Isolde with her shoulders slumped in defeat, and the boy who must have been Connor Guerrin, playing at lordling while his hometown fell to pieces around him.

Of more interest, though, was the squad of dull-eyed soldiers behind him. Not undead… enchanted. Controlled by a child. Percy found that more unnerving than the walking corpses.

Percival could hear the knights following behind as he and Alistair stepped forward into the main hall. He held Jowan's robes tightly in one hand, even though the mage had made no attempt to bolt. He wasn't taking any chances with this one.

The delight dropped off the boy's face as they approached. "So these are our visitors? The ones you told me about, Mother?"

"…yes, Connor." The Arlessa's voice was as defeated as her posture.

When Connor spoke, there was a dissonant echo in his voice, as if something much more terrifying were speaking with the child's voice. Percival shuddered, because he had no doubt that this was precisely the case.

"These are the men who tore through my guards? The one I sent to take back the town?"

"…yes."

So this was an abomination… this was what it was like to look into the eyes of a demon. Everything in Percy was screaming at him to kill it. Run it through, his mind shrieked.

Percy got a hold on the heat that flared up inside him, channeling it into throwing Jowan down on the rug in front of him.

"We've brought you a present," Percy growled at the child. Then, to Jowan, he said. "Fix it."

"I-it's not really that simple," Jowan stuttered. His eyes were wide and fixed on the abomination.

"Fix it, or I kill it."

"You dare to threaten me?" Connor cried.

"Please, do not hurt Connor!" Isolde cried, near tears. Percy wasn't moved; he was too disgusted by the spineless, underhanded shrew who had half caused this. "He is not responsible for what he does! It was him!" She pointed a finger wildly at the mage. "That mage poisoned my son's mind, made him into this creature!"

"Actually," Alistair said drily, also scowling at the Arlessa, "I believe it was your husband that he poisoned."

"I didn't summon the demon!" Jowan protested weakly. "I just… made it possible for him to do so…"

"It doesn't change the fact that a demon was summoned," Percy said shortly. "As far as I'm concerned, all three of you are culpable."

"It was a fair deal!" Connor roared, louder than he should have been able to. "Father is alive, and now no one can tell me what to do!" The Teagan creature cackled in agreement.

Percy's hair stood on end, and his sword was in his hand before he'd even thought of it. As he took a step forward to behead the monster, Alistair's hand fell on his arm.

Blinking back the redness that had been creeping into his vision, he noticed that the abomination was rubbing his eyes.

"M… mother?" the child's voice said, now lacking its supernatural echo. "Where am I?" Eyes peeked up fearfully from between his fingers. "What's going on?"

"Connor!" Isolde cried, falling to her knees beside her son. "Thank the Maker!"

Percival couldn't move; he couldn't breathe. Connor… was still alive under that? No, no. He couldn't believe this! It was a trick, certainly!

He looked pleadingly at Alistair, who watched the boy with wide eyes. Connor's face was back in his hands, his head shaking as if fighting off a nightmare. When the boy's face rose again, the previous coldness was back in his eyes. "Mother, stop that!" The vocal dissonance was back as well. "You are beginning to bore me!"

Shaking, Percival slowly slid his sword back into its sheath, his rage now a sputtering, ineffectual thing. He couldn't attack Connor, not after seeing that. Something about seeing that frightened child, comforted by his worried mother… it made him think of Oren and Orianna.

"But let's keep this civil," the abomination said, turning to squint at the Wardens. "Tell me, teacher. What are these men here for?"

Jowan picked himself carefully off the carpet, eyes darting nervously. "I believe they wish to help you, Connor."

"Ha! Help me? Like you helped me? You never were anything but a bumbling fool, and now I'm more powerful than you!" With that, Connor swept out a hand, and Jowan went hurtling back across the hall. He hit the wall and slumped to the floor, dazed.

"Well?" The abomination snapped at Percival and Alistair. "What do you want?"

To kill you, Percy wanted to say.

Alistair cleared his throat. "We seek an audience with Arl Eamon."

"Do you think me a fool?" Connor sneered. "You would hurt my father, just like he did!" The boy waved an arm at the mage's slumped form. "I will not let that happen! Men, kill them all!"

And then, to no one's surprise, the men behind Connor leapt at his command, drawing their weapons and charging the Wardens and knights. Isolde shrieked and scurried back into a corner… at least she was out of the way. Then, Teagan drew his own sword and lunged straight at Percival, his eyes wide and mad.

Percival got his shield out in time to deflect, but didn't draw his sword again. That red heat burned through him, bidding him to lose himself in the battle, to give into that rage that was his constant companion nowadays. He knew that if he drew his sword, he would do exactly that… the weight of steel in his hand would be all it would take for him to lose control and mow down the entire room.

But he couldn't do that here. Even as Teagan swung madly, each impact on his shield sending a spike of anger scorching through him, Percy did not draw his sword. Teagan and the guards were innocent. They were slaves to the abomination.

Connor had to die.

Still stepping back and blocking Teagan's swings, Percival looked around for the boy. Everywhere he looked, soldiers in Redcliffe armor fought one another, and it was impossible to tell who was fighting for which side. Alistair was holding down two at once, Hugo had one man's ankle in his jaws, and Jowan was on the ground, fumbling around with a longsword someone had dropped.

Then, Percy spotted the boy, who was now near one wall, watching the fight with wide, terrified eyes. Connor's eyes met Percival's, and then the boy shrieked and ran for the servants' exit. Seeing the innocence return was almost enough to break Percy's resolve, but then Teagan's sword slammed against his shield again.

Hugo was suddenly at Percy's side, growling low as he snapped at Teagan. "Hugo!" Percy cried, blocking another swing and pointing to the fleeing child with his free hand. "Take down!"

Hugo immediately turned at the command and bounded after the child.

"NO!" Isolde's voice shrieked, and she tackled the dog with more courage than Percival had honestly come to expect from her. Hugo snarled and spun, but she clung to his back, out of reach of his jaws.

Meanwhile, Connor disappeared through the doorway, and Percival cursed. He turned his concentration back to his fight, only to realize that Teagan had gotten some good hits through his armor and shield. His ribs hurt, and his shield arm was beginning to twinge with exhaustion. He couldn't stay in defensive mode much longer… sooner or later, he would have to draw his sword and lop the noble's head off. He grit his teeth and grasped for his sword.

Then, a wave of magic shuddered through the chamber, and everyone stumbled under it, thrown off balance. Percy's shield was blown wide, and he fully expected the bann's sword to pierce his gut in the next moment. However, when he looked up, Teagan was rubbing his head and looking around with wide, clear eyes.

A brief survey of the room revealed that all the enchanted men had regained their senses, though it was far too late to save some. And, collapsed on the ground, surrounded by a spray of blood, was the reason for their renewed coherency.

Jowan smiled weakly up at them, pale from blood-loss and with a longsword shoved into his own thigh. His hands trembled as he attempted to remove it, but his fingers slipped and he fell back, apparently exhausted.

"I'd always heard blood mages had the ability to control minds," Alistair said, also eying the mage. "I never knew they could un-control them, too. Guess it makes sense, in a really icky, still-evil way."

"YOU!" the Arlessa shrieked, stomping over to the mess that the blood mage was lying in. Hugo followed warily behind her. Isolde stopped carefully outside the worst of the puddles, so her skirts didn't get stained. "How dare you show your face here! Teagan, kill him quickly, before he casts another spell!"

"Considering his last one made my mind my own again," Teagan said carefully, still rubbing his head, "I'm going to have to respectfully decline, Lady Isolde."

"If it helps," Alistair said, "I don't think he's really up for another spell. Or standing, for that matter." Alistair gave the mage a flat look. "I'm sure we all feel bad for him. Poor helpless maleficar."

Percy walked carefully through the slick blood until he was standing next to the mage. Jowan looked up at him with nervous eyes, which widened in fear as Percy knelt down and put a hand firmly on the sword still sticking out of the mage's leg. He pressed down on it, making the blood mage wince.

"You could have run away at any time during that skirmish," Percy growled, the battle rage still threatening to break through despite the fact that the fight was over. "But you did not. For that, you live." Roughly, he yanked the sword out of the mage's leg. Jowan cried out and tried to clutch at his thigh, but Percy batted his hands away and pulled out his injury kit to start bandaging the wound.

"What?!" the Orlesian harpy shrieked. "You're going to help this assassin?!"

"Hugo," Percy said, not looking up, "third wheel."

The dog responded readily to the old command. Percy heard the dog growl, and then Isolde's yelps and protests quickly backed to a much more tolerable distance.

"I… thank you." Jowan said weakly.

"You said there was a way to fix Connor," Percy said shortly. "Speak it."

"It's… it's a ritual. In my grimoire, provided the Arlessa hasn't destroyed it." Jowan's eyes flickered over to the fuming woman, now trapped against a wall by a bloody mabari. "I can send a mage into the Fade, and they'll be able to combat the demon possessing Connor, without hurting him."

"You're talking about blood magic?" Alistair said, and Percy realized that the other Warden was standing right above them. "You really expect us to use blood magic?"

Jowan shrugged. "It's either that, or kill the child."

Alistair ran a hand over his eyes. "How is it that blood magic is the lesser of two evils here?"

"We'll need to begin as soon as possible," Teagan said, stepping up to stand beside a scowling Alistair. To Jowan, he asked, "I take it you need some time to recuperate enough blood?"

"Well, yes... but…"

"But?" Percival said impatiently, prodding the wound to get the mage talking faster.

Jowan winced and sat up. He was still shaky, but he seemed to be regaining some strength. "The thing is, the ritual needs three things: a blood mage to cast the spell, another mage to go into the Fade, and… erm… a power source."

Percy frowned, not trusting the mage's hesitancy. "Explain."

Jowan seemed to sense Percy's waning patience, judging by how quickly the words tumbled out of him. "It takes a lot of magic to send someone into the Fade. So, since this is a blood magic rite, it takes a lot of life force."

"How much?"

"…all of it?"

Slowly, Alistair said, "So you're saying, someone needs to die, to save Connor?"

Jowan's eyes shifted between the two Wardens nervously. "In a nutshell, yes."

"No, absolutely not," the ex-Templar said. He met Percival's gaze. "We can't condone blood magic. It's... it's insane. Even without the whole, 'killing someone' bit."

Percy sighed. "In that case, we have a choice between allowing the undead to continue attacking the town, or killing Connor. Tell me, Alistair: which sounds more appealing?"

Alistair opened his mouth, but not words came out for a moment. Then, he closed it and gave Percival a sour look. "Stop making blood magic sound like the least awful option, here. It's blood magic."

"A Warden does what he must, to stop the darkspawn. Perhaps it is time we learn just what that means."

Alistair huffed a sigh, glaring at the far wall. "Fine. But we can't sacrifice anyone. What are we supposed to do... hold a town raffle to see who gets to be the one to take one for the team?"

"I'll do it."

Percival, Alistair, and Teagan all turned to stare at Lady Isolde. She was huddled against the wall, pinned by a menacing mabari hound, but her eyes burned with resolution.

Percy swallowed a swell of grief, because he'd seen such resolution before, on another mother willing to give herself to save her son.

"Lady Isolde-" Teagan protested.

"I will gladly give my life to save Connor's. Please."

"You can't be serious," Alistair argued. "Look, that's very noble and all, but there's got to be another way. Maybe without killing anybody?"

"Well…" Jowan said, "I suppose if I had lyrium instead, no one would have to die. But it would take a lot of lyrium."

Alistair jumped upon the chance. "The Circle Tower has lyrium! And, ha! You know what, we can find a second mage there, to fight the demon. Maybe Felicity can give it a go!"

"That's days away by boat," Teagan broke in. "I would hate to risk Lady Isolde, but can we really lose that much time while that demon is set on terrorizing the town?"

"Please," Isolde begged, braving the mabari to take a couple steps closer. "Please, I will do it now."

"Um…" Alistair said. "There is another problem with that. We don't have a second mage."

"Then we will find one!" Isolde cried. "I will gladly give up my life, if it will save Connor!"

"I'll kill every bastard who comes through that door to buy them time."

"No," Percival said, his voice rough. He stood, hoping that would make him feel less like the world was tilting from under him. He stared down at the blood-stained floor, trying to shake off the images of a blood-splattered larder.

"I've heard there's a collective agent in town…" Jowan said.

"No, we are not sacrificing Isolde."

Alistair arched an eyebrow at Percival. "Now you're compassionate?"

"How dare you say what I can and can't do!" Isolde cried, anger flashing in her eyes. "You would deny a mother's right to protect her son?!"

Percy's rage flared up in response, and he spun wildly toward the woman. "And what of your son, after your death?!" he roared. He stalked toward her, fists clenched. "You would doom him to a life without you? With the knowledge that you had died to save him, and he must somehow prove himself worthy of such a sacrifice?"

The woman shrieked as he lifted her, single-handedly, by the front of her dress and shoved her against the nearest wall. Somewhere far away, someone cried, "Percy!"

"Losing a mother is the worst pain a son could possibly endure," he growled, letting go of his rage, just a bit, so that she could see what such a loss had done to him. "You would take away his mother, when his father's survival is already in doubt? You're a fool and a bitch, arlessa, but I never took you for cruel."

Arms grabbed him and pulled him back off the arlessa. He didn't fight them, merely continued to stare at the woman with that rage stirring inside him. She stared back, wide-eyed, seemingly hypnotized by what she saw in his eyes. Even Teagan fussing over her didn't make her stir.

"You… you're right," she said softly, stunned. "I did not think of that."

"We'll head straight for the Tower and back," Alistair said quickly from somewhere near Percy's elbow. His grip was firm on Percival's upper arm. "If you guys just make sure to burn all your corpses before each sunset, Connor shouldn't be too much of a threat in the meantime."

"If you think that best," Bann Teagan said uncertainly. "I and the men will hold the castle, then. You two will head for the Circle Tower?"

"Within the hour," Alistair assured him, guiding Percy toward the door with a firm hand. Percy didn't protest… that old grief had swept up to drain him like a dagger to the heart. He kept hearing his mother's voice, bidding him farewell as he fled into the night after Duncan.

Somehow, Alistair seemed to sense that, and Percival couldn't even summon up the wherewithal to be grateful for that.

It was all he could do not to collapse into himself, because he couldn't say that his mother would have been proud of what he'd become. Oh sure, he was a Grey Warden… but he was one who shoved defenseless women around and sicced his dog on children. Oh, how she would have scolded him for that. Suddenly, he keenly missed the sound of his mother's voice, even if only to admonish him.

Then, Percy tasted fresh air, and blinked to find that they were winding their way back down the path toward the village, just the three of them again: the two Wardens and the dog.

Alistair was talking. "…maybe Kazar or Morrigan would be better suited for that sort of thing, but I wouldn't trust either of them as far as I could throw them. Besides, the only two places that have lyrium are the Circle Tower and Orzammar, and the dwarves are probably going to be a bit suspicious if we just walk in there and start taking their ore. Unless we pose as miners. I don't know… I think I could make a convincing dwarf, if it came down to it."

"Thank you," Percy said, before realizing he'd even wanted to say it.

Alistair glanced over at him curiously. "Oh, you're back are you? And you're welcome. Why are you thanking me?"

"For backing me up, in there."

Alistair shrugged. "I didn't want to kill anyone, either. This way makes the most sense, and does the least harm."

"Provided Connor doesn't attack the town again," Percy said bitterly.

"Well, yes. There is that." Alistair was silent for a moment, then cast a sidelong look at Percy. "So… are you all right? You got a bit riled up, in there."

"Wouldn't you?" he asked tightly.

Alistair sighed. "No, I suppose so. So that's what happened, huh? To your own…" He trailed off uncomfortably.

"Yes." Percy winced at the pain in his chest. Where was that protective layer of anger when he needed it? "My father lay dying from treachery, and my mother decided to hold the exit over his body against the usurper's men, so that Duncan and myself could escape."

Alistair's eyes were full of sympathy. "I'm sorry."

And there was the surge of anger, at least. "Don't be." He embraced the anger, reveled in it. "The one who will be sorry is Arl Rendon Howe, for daring to do what he did to my family."

Percival startled as he felt Alistair's hand fall onto his shoulder. "There's not much we can do for it now… but when the time comes, you won't have to face him alone."

Percy nodded, the rage abating in favor of something… warm. "Thank you."

"All in a day's work, for us heroes." The weight of Alistair's hand left his shoulder, and they made the final turn into the village. "So what do you think the chances are that Bodahn's going to want to come with us?"

Percy cracked a small smile. "You actually like the dwarf following us around, don't you?"

"I'm just saying, having easy access to something other than biscuits and salted meat is nice. And come on, we're picking up lyrium… I'm sure we can pick up a little extra for Sandal to make an enchantment or two, right?"

Percy just shook his head and followed Alistair through the barricades, down to the town proper. Percy turned toward the docks, seeing that someone was already preparing a boat for their trip across the lake. It would likely be a long, anxious journey while they fretted about the fate of the village they were leaving behind.

Percival could only pray that it survived in their absence, and prayer was not something he put much stock in these days.