Chapter 28: It's A Small World, Isn't it, Loren Amell?
Flemeth watched, with apathetic eyes, her sacrifice struggling uselessly in its bonds on the plain gray slab that served as her altar. Her Goddess demanded the blood of a virgin, preferably an elf. Their blood is sweeter than anything. Pure and untouched by the ravages of time. Well, that would be the elves of ancient times. However, the old witch knew better than to correct a being more powerful than herself. In her opinion, and if everything turns out well, she would have the Goddess answer to her in time. It just requires patience, a lot of patience especially when dealing with a most troublesome child.
Ironically, Morrigan reminded her of her past childhood. The strange similarities between her child's mannerisms and her own in this time would often make her pause frequently throughout her upbringing. Nonetheless, it never halted the progress of her ambitious plans.
Tonight would be such a step in keeping her plan in motion.
The female elf started to shout at her in the Dalish language. The fright was clearly evident in her high-pitched voice and her struggles that continued, which highly irritated the silver-haired Witch. However, there was a certain time she had to draw blood and it was when the full moon would shine upon the sacrifice.
She didn't have to wait long for the moon peeked out of her cloudy covers and streaked across the unfortunate elf. Flemeth smiled grimly at her victim, whose struggles suddenly ceased. It was as if she knew that something bad was about to happen and there was nothing she could do about it. She closed her eyes before saying in her silvery dialect, You will regret this, Kria'ena!*
"I doubt it," Flemeth replied back in a stoney tone. A knife was raised back in two hands and her victim never screamed as it finally plunged deep into her heart. Blood spurted from her wound and the virgin elf gasped, her eyes widening and then closing as death claimed her.
The witch hastily whispered an ancient phrase, one that she learned too long ago and memorized till this day. The blood that had pooled underneath the body steamed, as if the slab was a furnace. Then, it suddenly lifted itself off the slab and started to coalesce into a humanoid shape beside the dead elf.
Standing before Flemeth was a young female, one that easily towered over her by at least a head. Pale skin gleamed brightly in the moonlight and her dark, black eyes stared fathomlessly at the Witch who summoned her. The almost ghostly appearance of the female would have any man flinch but Flemeth was not any man. She had seen this woman before, perhaps too many times for she found the figure her Goddess partook in to be atrocious. Her skin was too pale to be beautiful and was in fact more suitable for a corpse rather than one for the Old Gods. Perhaps beauty was in the eye of the beholder for Flemeth had a inkling that this woman could easily choose a more suitable form if faced with a male Witch instead of a female one.
"What news have you learned, my disciple?" The Old God asked her in a lilting tone. While she gave Flemeth time to think about her answer, she walked closer to the sacrifice and stroked the dead cheeks, marveling at her hand sunk deep into the victim without causing any marks. Disgusted by that, she withdrew her hand and then muttered a couple of words.
Flemeth barely trembled as the victim was turned into dust, at an Old God's whim.
"Speak quickly, childe, for time draws near until my brother reawakens," she hissed impatiently. She really despised humans, especially haughty ones like her disciple who think themselves the Masters of the world. Unfortunately, Flemeth was one of the few who could wield such power and withstand both the voice and image of an Old God.
"I have rescued the Wardens, although they are only now two, not twelve like you desired," Flemeth reported on her findings.
The colour of the Old God's eyes changed imperceptibly and the Witch of the Wilds knew that she was scanning for the veracity of her report.
"That was destined to happen. The blood of the fallen ones will aide in my awakening. However, you have more information for me, little one."
Flemeth's eyes lowered in reluctance reverence. "Yes, I made an interesting discovery, one which you no doubt will find it helpful."
"Do not presume such a thing, mortal," the Old God said in a caustic tone, before nodding her head to let her disciple continue with relaying her findings. Once she was done, the Old God seemed to pause for a second, her eyes staring intensely at the full moon. "Yes, it seems my brother is at work here too. That damned wolf. Even in his slumber, he seeks to outdo me."
The anger of her brother's doings caused her form to shift and Flemeth could now easily see the dragon's outline. No, not a dragon, but a snake…
"Time grows short. Urthemiel has already been corrupted and I do not wish to be next. The Taint spares no one but perhaps, it does and it is precisely why we need both Wardens, alive."
The anger left her and her form grew back into that of a young woman. The eyes reverted back to their familiar almond-shape and the face was cuter, and less triangular. She regarded Flemeth carefully, as if not fully trusting her own disciple.
"What would you have me do?"
"Observe this band of merry men and women. See how they react in their trials and tribulations. I would suggest that you study that resurrection spell soon. You will need it."
The last sentence was whispered quietly and when the clouds started to cover the moon, the Old God's form was lost in the resulting darkness, leaving behind a very puzzled Flemeth.
"Need it? As if this Flemeth needs anything!" The old witch cursed and she scowled at the Old God's warning. Flemeth has never died before and for the first time in her long life, she welcomed the idea of death.
-o0o-
Fergus thanked the Maker that he had met up with the strange but amiable Hawkes back in Lothering. If it weren't for them, he would have been freezing his bloody arse off. While the winter months had not actually started, it was still pretty cold, even for the southern regions of Thedas.
Leandra Hawke gave him one of her best fur coats, made out of the skin of a Hinterland Bears. The animals were well known for both their ferocity and their coats. Due to their coats being so valuable, especially in the winter times, the Bears were dangerously close to being almost extinct were it not for the Third Act of King Maric Theirin. The law put a limit on the numbers of bears killed and anyone caught breaking it were severely punished. How the King was able to track so many bears made Fergus wonder on whether or not magic was used or abused by the King's hand.
He had spent several days journeying through the South Hinterlands and marveled at how the roads were completely abandoned, bereft even of the King's Highway Patrol Guards. Did something happen that could have caused even the King to withdraw his troops from this far south? Of course, with Ostagar lost and the Darkspawn irrevocably marching out of the Kacori Wilds, anything could have happened. Even a King dying.
That thought made Fergus stop short in his tracks and his horse snorted at its owner's lack of direction.
If the King died, then there was no one left to legally claim the throne. While there were rumors of King Maric having a second son, one five years younger than Cailan, there was no corroborating evidence to prove it true. What was certain though was Anora conceiving no viable heir. That means the throne is left open for any nobles. Of all the times for that to happen, it had to be now!
He never really liked the Queen Anora but he didn't particularly dislike her either. She was fair and dull, just like any Ferelden noble. He wondered how in the world Cailan fell in love with a woman like her and had a sneaky suspicion that their marriage was politically motivated. Which means that Loghain is as close to being a King as any other noble peasant.
Anora's sharp eyes and angular face was immediately replaced by the softer but no less weaker features of his family's. He truly missed his Oriana and his little Oren. Fergus' heart ached at how he would never see his son grow old. In fact, Oren's birthday was a week later than the Battle of Ostagar and while Fergus remembered it, he did not celebrate either. The odd absence of his son made the loss even stronger and all he did was drink in his son's memory.
Sometimes, on his journey, he could hear them speaking to him, telling him how much they loved him and missed him. The Hawkes had healed him of his injuries and so he couldn't blame this on fever. That probably meant he was losing it. No! I have to keep going! Oriana told me that my brother is still alive!
More voices could be heard and for a moment, the noble Cousland thought he had lost his sanity when he espied a group of men waiting for him not too far away from him. He couldn't really see the details of them, but Fergus had a hunch that they were bandits, here to prey on vulnerable travelers.
As he got closer to him, he cursed inwardly at his hunch, for it was too true.
The men were dressed in rudimentary deerskin and light armor; all bore one weapon of some shape and fashion. The ones surrounding the man in the centre held axes and long, jagged swords. The bandit in the centre, who was a head shorter than all of them, carried no weapons, which made Fergus stand up even straighter in his saddle. That usually means he's either a mage or he's very good with throwing knives. In other words, good at ranged attack.
"Stop and give us yer stuff," one of the Henchmen growled at him in a menacing tone.
"I really don't have that much stuff to give," Fergus rebutted. It was true. He had nothing except his armor. His sword and shield were lost in the Kacori Wilds. His trunk of belongings were probably pilfered through at Ostagar and shared either with other Darkspawn or roaming scavengers.
"I don't believe tha'," the short leader cried out. "He's a freakin' noble! They's always got somethin'! Take him down lads!"
Fergus, however, was ready for them. He kicked out at the nearest bandit and smiled grimly at the resulting crack of his actions. He didn't have time to relish his action for one of the bandits immediately sawed off one of the horse's legs. The horse threw its head back and let out a blood-curdling scream as it lost one of its legs. It collapsed heavily to one side, taking Fergus down with it.
Fergus said a few expletives as the bandits threw themselves on him and was given a few well-placed kicks to the stomach.
"Oh my. Somehow your noble bandits have gone from only stealing from the rich to beating up the poor. What has Thedas come to these days," another voice shouted.
"Who's that?" The leader called out and his henchmen quickly flocked in front of him to form a protective circle around the short brunette.
Fergus' vision was blurred by the agony of cracked, maybe broken ribs. Through his watery eyes, he could see a lone man standing rather close by actually. At least close enough to know that the man was a mage. His mage robes fluttered in the breeze and the head of the staff was already aimed at the group of bandits.
Two pairs of hands roughly picked him up by the armpits and Fergus slumped between them, his head hanging down. Can't I ever get a break? Maker help me!
"One wrong move, mister, an' this one gets it!"
Another grubby hand held his head back and the business end of a dagger pressed dangerously close against his throat. All it took was one jerk and he was done for!
The stranger chuckled and Fergus again cursed at his bad luck of first getting attacked by bandits, then by being laughed at a stranger, whose voice sounded oddly familiar.
"You know, that was funny," the stranger continued, laughing at the whole situation. Then the laugh lines disappeared and if Fergus could see, he would have noticed how angry the stranger became. "However, I know that person and he is a good friend of mine. I suggest you let him go." The statement was said in a soft, deadly tone that left no room of misinterpretation.
"Or what? From my view, he's perfectly dead and you're too far away to do anything about it!" The short man's hand trembled and the knife nicked slightly at Fergus' throat, causing blood to well up from the thin scratch.
"Oh? I think you should look again."
"Boss, there's something beneath us!" Another henchmen cried out frantically. The leader's eyes peered down and his eyes widened in horror. On the ground was a symbol of a magic spell. The boss of the henchmen opened his mouth to call for an attack but his eyes immediately glazed over as did everybody else.
Fergus felt his captors' hold on him go limp and he fell forward, hoping to the Maker that the stranger would be kind to him and put him out of his mercy. If not, then he certainly hoped that he wouldn't fall flat on his face.
His body was enveloped in a warm embrace and he slumped against the stranger's chest. His eyes fluttered open and the face he saw would have made him laugh at how small the world could be.
"Seems the Maker has His mysterious ways, huh, Fergus, no matter how fucked up the situation is. Go and rest, Fergus. I have a feeling you need it," the stranger softly commanded him.
"Loren..." Fergus breathed out his childhood friend's name and he let out a quiet sigh as his eyes closed and his body relaxed into much needed sleep.
-TBC-
A/N: Sorry for the lack of responses on the previous chapter. I posted it late at night and wanted to go to bed. So, here they are:
YoshisSupport: Yep, the Hawkes are officially in Amaranthine. Now the next step is getting out of there before more templars come after them!
Madness of Angels:You review! Yay! Don't worry about Justice. This fandom has a very different spin on things. Please don't steal them away! I need them! :D
Aki: I know, Anders is here! Woo! And he's already in love with Arren! Talk about love at first sight! Can your last request be just a one-shot? I just got so many things going on already...unless you want it to be another multi-chapter story? Don't worry about Alistair, he'll listen to his instincts, especially when it comes to Hadrian. Hehehe dirty thoughts running around, oh my!
David9999: Not entirely sure on Sten's part in all of this. I like him, despite his rough exterior. I hope you liked this chappie!
I want to know your thoughts. They feed me! :D