Thank you to WellspringCD for being my beta reader on this.
Fearghal followed Duncan back to their encampment, scowling furiously. He was furious that Cailan had insisted a Grey Warden light the damned signal beacon; he wanted to be in the battle. He could feel the white-hot rage building in him again. Sometimes it took all his self-control not to let it consume him. Fighting darkspawn in the Wilds had brought some relief; he'd been looking forward to the fighting. What was worse, Duncan had decided it needed two of them to light the Maker-damned beacon; that idealistic fool, Alistair, was to accompany him. He brightened at the thought that Alistair was likely to be furious about that decision as he was.
They reached the large camp fire. Alistair looked up eagerly as they drew near. Duncan nodded to him, then turned to face them both.
"You heard the plan, Fearghal. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."
"What? I won't be in the battle?" interrupted Alistair, furiously. Fearghal hid a small smile.
"This is by the King's personal request, Alistair." Duncan's tone brooked no argument. "If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."
"So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch? Just in case, right?" Alistair couldn't hide his disdain.
"We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn... exciting or no," said Duncan wearily. It seemed to Fearghal and Alistair that even he thought the King's demand was excessive and overly-cautious.
Alistair held his hands up in defeat. "I get it. I get it," he assured Duncan. "Just so you know, if ever the king asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."
Fearghal sniggered at the mental image, in spite of himself. "I don't know. That could be a great distraction."
Alistair flashed a grin at Fearghal. "Me shimmying down the darkspawn line? Sure," he drawled, "we could kill them while they roll around laughing."
Duncan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Briefly he gave them directions to the tower and instructions on when to light the beacon. Fearghal nodded and turned to leave.
"Duncan... may the Maker watch over you," said Alistair, suddenly serious.
Fearghal stiffened, recalling the last time he had heard those words. Rory! A pang of grief welled up in him. Furiously blinking back tears, he strode towards the gorge.
Duncan's faint reply was almost lost on the wind. "May he watch over us all."
Alistair hurried down the steps onto the bridge just in time to see Fearghal blown off his feet, caught on the edge of a blast from a fireball. Maybe the Maker does have a sense of humour, after all. When Alistair reached him, Fearghal was still laid on his back, looking half-dazed. Alistair reached down and hauled him to his feet, turned him round to face the right direction and gave him a little shove. To his credit, Fearghal kept moving, although Alistair suspected he had no idea where he was until they hit the far side of the gorge.
As they headed up the steps and towards the ramp leading to the tower they were met by a mage and a panic-stricken looking soldier.
"You... you're Grey Wardens, aren't you? The tower... it's been taken!" the soldier stammered.
"What are you talking about, man? Taken how?" demanded Alistair.
"The darkspawn came up through the lower chambers! They're everywhere! Most of our men are dead!"
"Then we have to get to the beacon and light it ourselves!" declared Alistair.
The soldier nodded and ran off before they could stop him. The mage hovered indecisively. Fearghal collared him before he could run off too.
"You! You're with us!" he commanded. The mage hesitated, then nodded. "What's your name?" asked Fearghal, less harshly.
"Brendan, ser."
"Right, Brendan. Forgive me if I'm teaching you to suck eggs; stay to the rear, let me, Alistair and Bane lead the way."
The mage nodded while Alistair looked around and realised that Fearghal's hound had joined them. Alistair and Fearghal drew their swords and started towards the ramp.
"A moment, sers," called the mage. Fearghal and Alistair halted, looking back at him. Brendan muttered some words and made a gesture with his hand. Fearghal almost dropped his sword when flame wreathed it. He looked at it warily, then looked over at Alistair's and saw it was the same, orange flame dancing along the length of the blade.
"It won't harm you, ser," Brendan assured him, "but it will hurt whatever you strike with your blade."
"Thanks," said Fearghal said with a feral grin. He glanced up at the tower looming over them, then at Brendan and Alistair. "Last one to the top's a big girl's blouse," he challenged, then raced up the ramp with Bane hot on his heels.
Brendan gave Alistair a startled look, to which Alistair merely shook his head. "Insane," he offered by way of explanation, then set off up the ramp. By the time he got to the top, Fearghal and Bane had already charged into the first group darkspawn and were busy causing havoc.
Fighting their way into the tower wasn't that difficult. There were still small groups of soldiers outside, putting up some resistance against the darkspawn. With Alistair, Fearghal, Brendan and Bane to help, the darkspawn outside the tower were soon put down. Once inside though, things got more difficult. They'd gone in alone, instructing the other soldiers to stay outside and make sure no more darkspawn got into the tower. Room by room, floor by floor; slowly they made progress up the tower. Alistair was startled to see Fearghal rifling through crates until he'd tossed some lyrium potions to the mage and managed to scrounge up some healing potions and poultices which he shared out with Alistair.
Alistair marvelled at Fearghal's seemingly limitless energy as he felt himself tiring. The man seemed unstoppable; he charged into every group of darkspawn screaming in fury, as if he took their very presence as a personal affront. Fearghal's rage had made Alistair uneasy before, it seemed to lurk so close to the surface; however, the man appeared to run on pure anger and he seemed to have a limitless supply to draw on. Alistair leaned against the wall at the top of yet another flight of steps, trying to get his breath back. Fearghal paused in front of the door, momentarily taking pity on him.
"Makers breath! What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde?" gasped Alistair, his chest heaving. "There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"
"Weren't you complaining that you wouldn't get to fight?"
"Hey, you're right," laughed Alistair, his breathing less laboured. "I guess there is a silver lining here, if you think about it."
Fearghal merely grinned in reply and threw the door open and charged, screaming, into the nearest darkspawn.
Finally, they reached the top of the tower. Alistair sagged with relief against the door to the top chamber. Even Fearghal seemed to be slowing, noted Alistair, as Fearghal tripped on the last step. Bane sniffed at the bottom of the door and snarled.
"What is it, boy?" asked Fearghal. Bane continued to worry the bottom of the door. "Alistair?"
Alistair frowned. "I don't know. Darkspawn... but it feels... different." He shrugged helplessly. "I've never felt anything like it before."
"Let's find out then," suggested Fearghal pushing open the door and stepping inside. He took a few steps in and then halted so suddenly that Alistair bumped into him. They looked round, struggling to take in what they were seeing. Body parts were strewn all around the chamber; soldiers had literally been torn limb from limb. In the centre of the chamber squatted a huge ogre, blood and slaver dripping from its vicious-looking maw. It straightened and turned slowly as it became aware of their presence.
"Shit!" breathed Fearghal, craning his head back to look up at the creature that now towered over them.
Alistair would have been impressed that something had finally intimidated his new brother, if he hadn't been so terrified. He racked his brains, trying to remember what he'd been told about the different types of darkspawn and how to deal with them. "We need to slow it down, it's big but fast. Keep moving," he instructed. He glanced at Brendan. "Ice," he told him, "as much and as often as you can."
The mage nodded his understanding, not taking his eyes of the vast hulking creature that confronted them. The gestured and the flames wreathing Alistair and Fearghal's swords guttered and died. "I'll need all my mana," muttered Brendan.
The ogre regarded them curiously for a moment, then roared its defiance at them. All three men flinched as the sound echoed round the empty chamber. Fearghal hefted his shield then charged it, Alistair and Bane close behind. They fanned out in front of the monster, attacking it simultaneously. Their blows bounced off its leather-like skin. With a growl, it swung its arm and a huge hand backhanded Fearghal, sending him flying. Fearghal had barely hit the ground before he was back on his feet and running behind the ogre. He sawed at the back of its heel, trying to sever the tendon. The creature howled in pain, lashing out at Alistair, smashing him to the floor before it turned on Fearghal.
The ogre stooped forward, trying to catch the annoying human on its horns. Fearghal swung his shield with all his might, desperate to fend it off. He landed a solid blow with his shield on its head and saw its eyes cross; it hesitated, shaking its head and blinking stupidly. Bane darted behind the ogre and sank his teeth into its damaged heel, gnawing determinedly. The ogre growled, and shook its leg trying to shake the dog off; Bane hung on grimly, his jaw locked on the tendon between his teeth.
Ice and lightning flew from Brendan's fingers, alternatively coating the monster with a layer of frost or sizzling and arcing across its skin. Alistair finally regained his feet and was unlucky to be in the way as the ogre kicked back with its free foot, desperate to dislodge the hound that worried its other leg. Alistair shot backwards, banging into Bane as he did so, finally knocking the dog loose. Bane's jaw was locked and as Alistair smashed into him, there was a tearing noise as part of the creature's heel came away in his jaw.
The ogre roared with pain and fury as its foot flopped uselessly at the end of its leg. It lowered its head and charged Fearghal. For all it was handicapped, its clumsy charge was still powerful enough to wind Fearghal as it knocked him backwards, sending him skidding along the floor on his back. Fearghal managed to roll out of its way as a huge fist slammed down towards him. Gasping for breath, he struggled to his feet. Fearghal dodged as its fist swung at him again. Although it missed Fearghal, it managed to catch Alistair, knocking him to the ground yet again. Bane had regained his feet and was busy ripping chunks of flesh out of the back of the ogre's legs. Brendan downed potion after potion and kept up a relentless barrage of ice and lightning.
As Alistair struggled to his feet, the ogre span with a terrifying speed and bore down on him.
Fearghal chased after it. "Hey! Over here, you motherless bastard!" he screamed, plunging his sword into the back of an exposed knee.
The ogre lurched as its injured leg started to give way. Alistair regained his feet and ran unsteadily past it. Fearghal ran past him, in the other direction. Fearghal turned and faced the staggering ogre as it started to collapse on one knee. With a blood-curdling yell, he leaped through the air. As he hit the ogre's chest, his momentum knocked it over backwards and he plunged his sword into its gaping maw as it howled in frustration. Fearghal leaned all his weight behind his sword, pushing it up, through the roof of its mouth, and into its brain. The ogre thrashed wildly beneath him, almost throwing him off. Alistair backed out of the way as the ogre's arms and legs flailed around in its final death throes.
Finally, the creature lay still. Alistair sank to his knees, trembling and gradually becoming aware of various hurts. He fumbled in his pack and drew out a couple of healing potions. He offered one to Fearghal, as he slid down off the ogre's corpse, and was felt some small satisfaction when he noticed the tremor in the other man's hand as he reached out to take it. Both men quaffed their potions and groaned with relief as the healing warmth spread through them.
"Maker!" groaned Alistair. "I seemed to spend most of that fight on the floor."
Fearghal huffed a soft laugh. "Bad luck," he said with a shrug. "I'll let the next one knock me around and you can do all the running about."
"The beacon's over there."
Fearghal eyes followed Alistair's gesture. He'd forgotten all about the beacon; the whole reason they were in the tower in the first place.
"We've surely missed the signal... let's light it quickly before it's too late."
Fearghal nodded wearily. He looked around. A burned-out torch sat in a bracket next to the beacon.
"Er, Alistair... do you have a flint?"
"What? No... I... " Alistair's eyes widened in dismay.
"Shit!" Fearghal swore softly.
"I think I could light it," offered Brendan. "I'm not much use with fire but I can summon enough to light your beacon."
"Excellent!" Fearghal beamed at the mage.
Alistair looked up at Fearghal, wondering anew at how different he looked when the rage fell away.
The mage's lips moved and he gestured at the beacon on the far side of the chamber. A massive fireball hit the beacon and the force of the blast almost knocked Brendan and Fearghal off their feet. The beacon erupted, sending a huge gout of flame skywards. Alistair and Fearghal gaped at Brendan, who grinned sheepishly.
"Oops!" He giggled manically and Alistair looked more closely at him. His face was pale and sweaty; his eyes had a feverish look to them.
"I think someone's had too much lyrium," he drawled with a grin.
"Or he doesn't know his own strength," said Fearghal, sniggering.
Alistair snorted with laughter and it was infectious. Fearghal started to laugh and in moments both he and Alistair were howling with laughter, giddy with relief. Alistair lurched, nearly losing his balance and gripped onto Fearghal, almost doubled-over.
Still chuckling, Fearghal went back to the ogre and retrieved his sword. He looked across the chamber and started towards one of the windows.
"We should get a good view from up here."
Alistair and Brendan hurried over and leaned out. Below them they could see the king's army in the gorge. Although they knew the army was huge, it was dwarfed by the darkspawn horde that was threatening to overwhelm it.
"It looks like we got the beacon lit just in time," said Alistair. "Where's Loghain's army?"
Fearghal looked round, trying to get his bearings and apply what he'd seen on Loghain's map to the landscape before him, then pointed. "Look, up there, that ridge on the left."
"Why isn't he charging?" asked Alistair anxiously.
Fearghal grinned. "Loghain's probably giving them a speech..." He stopped spying movement at last amongst Loghain's troops. He frowned; Loghain's troops were moving... the wrong way.
"Where's he going?" asked Brendan, puzzled.
"He's going the wrong way!" Alistair shouted.
Fearghal watched, white-faced. "He's retreating," he whispered, barely able to believe what was before his eyes. Fearghal felt the rage building up in him again. "He's retreating!" he yelled furiously.
Fearghal looked down into the gorge at the king's army, which was obviously struggling now.
"The King! We've got to warn the King!" He turned and set off across the chamber at a run.
Alistair felt the familiar tug in his blood and turned but had no time to call out a warning before a stream of darkspawn poured through the open door. Arrows slammed into Fearghal but his momentum kept him moving until the flat blade of an axe slammed into the side of his head, felling him. Alistair heard Brendan gasp and turned his head, seeing the mage slump to the floor, several arrows sprouting oddly from his chest. Something punched Alistair in the chest. He looked down and could see two arrows protruding from his armour. How odd. It doesn't hurt at all. Everything went black.