CHAPTER 30: Catching Up With You
Fergus' eyes snapped open and he jerked upwards, gasping out his wife's name.
"Easy there," a familiar face soothed him as gentle hands coaxed him back into the blankets. As soon as he was settled, a cup appeared at his lips and he drank it without hesitation, coughing slightly at the bitter tang of the contents. The liquid made his stomach become warm though and Fergus' breathing eased out from his coughing phase.
"Better?" A question was asked of him and Fergus' eyes turned upwards, to see a young male face looking down at him, warm green eyes peering at him with deep concern.
"Yes," Fergus coughed slightly and he cleared his throat.
Satisfied that his patient was better now, Loren placed the now empty cup to the side and sat back on his rump, with the fire crackling softly behind him.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be heading home?" Fergus noticed that Loren didn't ask if he was heading back to his family, just his home. Did his friend know what really happened? If so, how and why?
A quizzical expression appeared on Loren's strong face and Fergus sighed. He really didn't want to relay his story. The grief was still there, still hovering strong at the edge of his senses. However, the voices of his family had gone, leaving him feeling oddly abandoned and yet at the same time, more at peace now.
"I heard rumours," Loren started to say, his voice low and soft, as if the mage was unsure of what to say next.
"They're not rumors," Fergus snapped harshly, perhaps too harshly for his childhood friend looked hurt, his eyes even more downcast. An awkward silence occurred and Fergus sighed. He had enough of this dreaded feeling and gave the blonde mage a kind smile. "Sorry, it's just, it's too fresh to talk about it; that's all."
"I understand. When I was taken from my family, I refused to talk to anyone for months."
"What made you break in the end?" Fergus was curious to hear more of the backstory of his closest friend's life. Actually, Loren was more of a brother to him and Hadrian, who was the youngest of the trio by two years.
His friend snorted at the word 'break' and then laughed out loud, taking Fergus by surprise at his weird behaviour.
"You know," Loren said, amidst bursts of laughter, "all it takes is for someone to understand you, intimately, to understand of what you're going through."
"Well, weren't plenty of mages like you? I mean, one of a Templar's duty is to find mages that have gone missing or just been discovered. Speaking of which, what are you doing here?"
Loren's laughter stopped short and his friend's eyes grew more serious, and more suspicious, as if he didn't trust his own friend. For a long moment, the oldest Cousland thought that maybe he had offended his friend. Loren's eyes became quite iridescent with power and Fergus almost shivered at feeling the energies crackle around his friend's body.
"Something bad happened at the Tower," Loren finally said, his mouth tightening into a grimace. Fergus could tell that he was struggling to restrain himself. The mage's entire body was tensed and the Cousland felt that if he said the wrong word or made the wrong move, then Loren would either fight or bolt from him.
"What happened? C'me on, you can tell me."
"I…it…it was pretty bad…"
"Can't be as bad as my family dying, right?" The injured man attempted a laugh and failed poorly. It only resulted in him wincing from his healed injuries and Loren just shook his head in disagreement.
"To violate such a person who you are supposed to be protecting is just as bad," Loren whispered hoarsely and eyes shuttered closed at that indelible memory. Rough hands caressing his body while teeth and nails scratched at him in his attacker's frenzy in assaulting him. Then, that horrible, agonizing pain of penetration. You'll never be free of me, mage. We own you, body and soul.
Hands clasped around his shaking ones and the strength in them, as well as the familiarity, anchored him to this world. He managed to take a breathe and his friend waited patiently for him, somehow knowing what Loren was trying to say but couldn't.
"I had no idea," Fergus murmured quietly and he let go of Loren's hands, trying to not overwhelm the young mage with physical touch.
"It's ok. Luckily, someone found out but it was too late by then."
"Who took him off you?"
"Would you believe that it was another Templar? I think," Loren paused for a second as he tried to remember exactly who had stopped his rapist from finishing the job. "I think his name was Cullen."
Fergus saw a dreamy look overcome Loren's face and he had a hunch that this Cullen person was something of a rarity in the Templars. Only male Templars guarded the mages in the Tower. Females were forbidden due to a higher chance of them succumbing to the wiles of an imprisoned mage. Unfortunately, when given such power of a group of people, it often led to violent incidents and discrimination; not even men could withstand the temptation of holding power over others and not act on baser instincts. Fergus heard gossips from other nobles who either had relatives in the Tower or just knew someone. Gossips of not so nice things happening in the Circle and how most of them involved the rough dealings with Templars circulated around Thedas. Sadly, that's all they were though, just gossip and not enough corroborating evidence for the Divine to investigate into it.
"So, why isn't he here, with you?"
"Different ideals, that's all. They were going to turn one of my friends and I, like an idiot, went with his side of the story. Unfortunately, the consequence of our action was either be turned into one of them or leave. I clearly chose to leave and it was a good thing too; otherwise, you would be dead now."
"And Cullen?"
"He…he wanted me to stay, so he could better protect me. When I told him that I couldn't stay, he got mad and left."
"So, what now?"
"I was tracking my friend down and I have come across some very interesting news that you should hear, not that what I just told you wasn't interesting enough."
Fergus would have loved to hear more of the story, but his eyes grew heavier and heavier. Loren must have sensed his increasing lethargy for his friend gathered the blankets and tucked them around the man's shoulders.
"Sorry…" Fergus whispered to his friend, his eyelids drooping in the process, "I didn't mean…to…." The rest of the sentence was trailed off and soon Loren was gazing down at his sleeping friend. He brushed off a lock of brown hair and mused on truly small the world is.
Loren felt sympathetic towards his good friend and as he continued to gaze upon the slumbering Cousland, he wondered if he would see that Templar again and if he was missing him as badly as the mage was missing him. No, it wouldn't ever work out. A Templar and a mage. That's like water and oil, immiscible and impossible to endure. But Loren was all about doing the impossible and his next impossible goal was to get his best friend out of whatever mess he landed into now.
Fergus woke the next day, feeling a lot better than the day before. His ribs were healing quite nicely, according to Loren. Also, he actually had a pleasant dream of his wife and son, who both told him that they were faring quite well in the Fade and they would always watch over him. Dark times are ahead, my beloved, but you won't spend them alone… That's what Oriana had told him and the way she winked her eye at him made him blush and wonder what exactly she was hinting on. Surely his own wife couldn't expect him to move on so quickly, especially without some closure like an internment of sorts.
Loren's news was indeed very interesting and whatever hope he had invested in the Guerrin Family was immediately dashed when the blonde mage informed him of Arl Eamon's poisoning and how it coincided with his friend's sudden disappearance. When Fergus asked him of what he plans on doing, Loren simply shrugged his shoulders and replied in a very nonchalant tone, "whatever it takes to get him back. It's what friends do."
Fergus thought on what he should do next. The Guerrin family was quite old and just as respectable as the Couslands were, despite the Arlessa having had Orlesian origins. The peasants working on the Guerrin's estates as well as those who were the Guerrins' vassals were outwardly loyal to Arl Eamon, but they held themselves at a distance when dealing with the Arlessa, Isolde. The Fereldens had just recently fought off the Orlesian usurpers and thirty years of freedom did not grant them enough time for feelings of resentment and a righteous ire to pass peacefully. While those who disliked the Arlessa wisely held their tongue, more out of fear of being executed on her orders than anything else, they absolutely loved the younger brother, Teagan.
He had missed Teagan from all the times they spend visiting each other and from the sounds of it, Teagan could probably use his help in dealing with angry peasants and lesser nobles as well. Finally having come to a decision, Fergus opened his eyes and saw that his friend had already packed things up from. The fire was doused just now, probably when he was meditating on what he should do next, and his small pack appeared to be bigger than it initially was.
"Seems you've made your mind, hmm?" Loren said. His mage robes looked as if they were washed just recently and Fergus wondered exactly on how much time he had spent out like a light. One thing Fergus noticed immediately was Loren's lack of staff and that observation instantly put the Cousland on edge. The only mages who bore no staffs or any conduits to channel their energies through were either extremely gifted mages or blood mages.
"Don't worry," Loren told him in a reassuring tone. As if knowing his friend's thought, he held his arms up, to allow the loose sleeves come down. The arms lacked the telltale scars of a blood mage and the skin tone appeared normal and unblemished. "I'm not a blood mage, Fergus. I'm offended that you would think of such a thing of me."
The haughtiness born from being a noble could never be truly erased under the burden of a new and suppressive life. It returned full force and the way the green eyes sparkled with light anger reminded Fergus of his childhood friend again, when he was slightly more carefree and innocent. The Cousland gave another start. He never noticed how much Lore changed until he finally took a good look at him.
Those emerald eyes were already seen as too mature, too old to be placed in the frame of a young child. Now, though the face and the body caught up in maturity and growth, the eyes became far older, as if they had seen things normal people shouldn't have seen. Then again, most normal people weren't mages and were priviledged in having to see abominations run amuck, to not hear the demons whispering to them in seductive voices.
Loren had always been a tall boy for a mage and even now, as Fergus came to stand before him, the former towered over him by well over six inches. His slender frame filled out quite well over the years but Fergus knew that while the mage had magic virtually at his fingertips, he didn't rely on it too much. To have such dependence on something that can be taken away from you is dangerous. He was told that by this same man, only it was ten years ago. Who thought that a mere child could say such adult things? They weren't supposed to be saying mature stuff like that.
"Fergus, you're thinking again," Loren chuckled and the Cousland blinked a couple of times, trying to get out of his hazy thoughts. The tall blonde smiled at him again and his hand moved inside his robe, only to bring out a slender piece of wood that was sanded down into white smoothness. It had intricate patterns etched along the sides of it and wrapped around until the symbols ended at the tip. "My staff got broken, so I had to make a new one. I figured since a long staff would have a higher chance of breaking again, I should go for a shorter one. My best one yet, made of whitewood and hardy as steel."
The Cousland man inspected the short wand with curious eyes and, when Loren placed it in his hands, was surprised that it was as light a feather but held heat, perhaps from its previous owner. The words that decorated the short staff weapon were in ancient elven in fact, not that Fergus could understand any of it.
"It means, to the wielder, may you bring justice and peace to those who want it."
"Did you put it on there?"
"Yes. I made it, but not without help of my friend, Jowan. He's better at staff-making than doing normal spells."
"This Jowan-"
"Again, we're not together, and yes, I believe he's in Redcliffe."
Maker's arse! It's like he read my mind or something. There was an amused twinkle in Loren's eyes and Fergus shouldn't be so shocked to know that Loren could anticipate his questions. He could never beat him at a game of chess anyways nor beat him at any game that required strategy. The only thing he could beat Loren was in hand-to-combat, without any magic involvement.
"What's he doing there? Redcliffe is far from home and the Arlessa, Isolde, hates magic."
"I honestly don't know. Maybe sight-seeing?"
Fergus made a sound of frustration at the sarcastic remark. Some things just never changed and one of them was Loren's penchant for making witty, sarcastic comments. He turned his eyes north, to the right of the sun, and saw the tall tower of Redcliffe Castle. From their position and with any luck, they could make it before the sun set again.
-o0o-
"A phylactery?" Arren's eyes blinked rapidly as the young mage tried to understand the idea of using a vial of blood for tracking purposes.
If it were any other person, Anders would have said something very cynical and sarcastic. However, given the man's past, the older mage understood why Arren seemed to be confused.
"Yes. When you are brought to the Circle for the first time, the first thing they do is obtain a sample of your blood. They store it in a very secure place because that is the only way to track you down if you escape."
"I'm guessing, they know where you're at then." Arren's shoulders slumped and there was such a dejected look on the mage's face, it made Anders want to gather him in his arms and to comfort him. Anders did that mentally but when in a roomful of full of strange people who were the said mage's family, especially one other male who probably could kill him if he made any move towards his brother, the blonde mage did no such thing. Instead, he bestowed a kind smile upon this man, who had saved him from the Templars.
"Don't worry. They may know where we are, but thank the Maker they can't fly directly to us. I think the Divine would just fall over in her Seat if her Templars could do that."
The image of an old woman collapsing back in a dead faint prompted forth some laughter from both mages, which caused the other man to glare at them before being pinched by another woman.
"Ouch! Would you stop doing that, Bethany?" Carver rubbed against his hurt but the brunette merely shook her head at her twin brother before whispering hoarsely at him, "and would you stop starting at them? He's not going to hurt him!"
"I don't know. You don't think it's strange that as soon as we arrive in Amaranthine, we see this guy here," Carver's eyes flickered briefly back to the duo before returning to his sister, "who just happens to be going to Amaranthine as well?"
"He could just be doing the same things we're doing, Carver," Bethany huffed, her hands on her hips. Her gray eyes flashed angrily at her brother, who was always questioning something, whether it be their brother's doings or fate herself. "Getting out of Ferelden while we still can before the Darkspawn takes over it."
"He's an apostate! More Templars will be coming after us now!"
"Don't be such a whiner! We've done this before. It'll just be like before, except we have one more man."
"Better we have taken that other man than picking up this straggly mage," Carver grumbled underneath his breath. He felt someone staring at him and discovered, to his chagrin, that it wasn't his sister but the straggly mage himself. Sharp light brown eyes gazed steadily at him and Arrren, always the nice Arren, asked the mage if something was the matter. Carver unknowingly let out a relieved sigh when the mage dismissed his brother's concern. Unfortunately, he didn't get away with his rude comment and pain exploded on the right side of his face. That was from his sister. Bethany was rather strong for a woman her size and he felt it every time she punched him out of anger. This was no exception and he didn't bother to try to soothe the hurt. Instead, he let it burn and ache. He really did deserve that. It wasn't as if this mage was following them. In all actuality, they were probably seen as following him really, seeing as how they just popped into existence right in the middle of an extraction point, where Templars find and subdue mages.
What was worse though was that strange scream that both emitted and Carver could have sworn on his father's grave that he saw an outline of something, a large creature with wings that were fully extended. He hadn't brought that up yet with his brother or his sister in fact. They wouldn't believe me anyways. Think I've gone and lost my marbles...
"If you haven't forgotten, Carver," Bethany hissed at him, her hand still in a clenched fist at her side. "That he chose to not go with us. Besides, I think something happened to him and he preferred to deal with it on his own, not in the company of strangers."
"What could happen to him? He's a noble. He's got family to go back to. A nice castle, some servants, maybe some woman to look after too," Carver bit back and he visibly flinched as he saw that same fist tighten even more, to where he could see the pale skin tighten around the knuckles.
"Bethany!" A sharp voice called out and Bethany groaned at having been denied another opportunity to whack some sense into her brother. "We shouldn't spend time arguing and punching each other! We've got other things to worry about."
It was Arren who stopped her and he was heading towards his twin siblings, followed closely by the blonde mage. Carver's eyes narrowed at how little space there was between his older brother and this strange man they had rescued. The strange man, for his part, merely smiled at him before turning his eyes on the dark-haired man beside him.
"Anders," Arren started. Forgot about his name already. Carver scowled even more but Arren continued, "thinks that his phylactery may have been taken from the Tower itself and is in one of the warehouses. He said it's heavily guarded by Templars-"
This time, Carver had to say something, no matter how 'whiney' it may sound.
"Wait, wait. You're not actually thinking about going with this Anders, here are you? Think about it, brother. Amaranthine may not be crawling around with Templars like other cities, but if his story really is true, then it will be difficult in getting out of the city."
"His story is true," Arren said affirmatively and everyone could see how his golden eyes flashed with power at his brother's insinuation. "Also, we could use a powerful healer on our team, don't you think, brother? Unless you want to be healed by me or Bethany again?"
The brunette grimaced at Arren's perfectly logical comeback. How does he do that? Every time I think of something, he always has something even better than that...
"We were doing fine without him," Carver mumbled quietly.
"No, we weren't," Arren replied in a strong voice. "You know yourself that it was only a matter of time before we are overwhelmed. What would have happened if I fell back in Ostagar? Or even Bethany? Or perhaps both? Did you think of that, little brother? You relied on us, even without knowing it yourself."
"Arren, stop this!" Bethany tried to come in between the two brothers, but even her own mother pulled her out of this. When she protested and attempted to worm her way back into the argument, Leandra just clasped her shoulder even tighter and shook her head.
"Look," Carver argued back. "All I'm saying is to not just blindly follow this man's story. I mean, how do you know if he's not a blood mage, leading you on with some spell?"
"I trust him, just like I trust you all to watch my back. Perhaps it is you who doesn't trust me and my decisions."
With that said, the two brothers just stared at each other before Leander clapped her hands, telling everyone that it was dinner time. No one disobeyed mother and the rest of the evening was spent in awkward silence.
Anders felt increasingly bad for having put this family under so much stress. However, as he felt Arren'shand subtly cover his underneath the dinner table, the guilt was soon driven away and something in his mind grew warm and comfortable. He never believed in love at first sight, but when he gazed into the dark-haired man's topaz orbs, he definitely believed that there was a shared attraction between the two of them. It just needed to be kindled and the blonde mage had a feeling that once kindled, it could never be doused out.
-o0o-
It had been only a month since the day of his successful takeover at the Cousland Castle, but Arl Howe could still smell the burning stone, the fresh blood that had spilled out unto the paved causeways and forever staining the landscape of what was once the Couslands' home.
Once he penetrated the home and trapped his dear friend, Bryce, in the pantry, along with his wife, he was fully prepared to get his wish. He had wanted Eleanor, the fair Cousland wife, to kiss his feet in submission but time was of the essence and he needed to kill them. Before he could do so though, something had flashed before his eyes and loud, mournful howls echoed throughout the hallways. They reverberated into the stones themselves and struck deep into his soul, or what's left of it.
When the flash went away and his eyes opened, he was utterly dismayed to find them slumped over each other, their lifeless eyes gazing at him, mocking him even in death. Furious at his chance of killing them being taken away, he marched out of the room and barely missed the dark shadows that shifted for a moment before finally stilling into darkness. Were he to look closer and more carefully, he would have already found the last member of the Couslands, the more important one anyways. Fergus had already been sent to Ostagar and the rogue noble thought that if the upstart noble didn't die by Darkspawn hands, he would eventually meet his fate at his hands.
Now though, he had more pressing matters to attend to and they had led them to the deep catacombs that lay beneath the castle itself. Flemeth had contacted him just recently and ordered him to go investigate the lower dungeons of the Couslands. The old hag had the nerve to order him around.
The Arl was smart enough to take some torches with him, or he would have fallen to his death, when his feet stopped at the edge of a cliff. The light radiating from his torch caused shadows to dance rapidly on the walls of stone. However, it had a short range and outside his ring of light, darkness surrounded him.
It was cold down here and not even the Arl was immune to the dangers of overexposure to the deep cold. He just hoped that whoever he had to meet would be quick about it so he could go back up and into the cozy atmosphere of his conquered place.
"Mortal," a voice hissed in his ear and the Arl jerked, so much so that he almost dropped his torch out of mere fright. "Do you have the bodies? Do you have the blood of the sacrifices?"
Now, the voice seemed to echo in front of him and if the Arl could scream, he would. He would not show weakness in front of a person or whatever this thing was. He was the Arl of Amaranthine and he had conquered even the oldest Couslands!
A beautiful woman hovered over him. Her body was attired in white robes and her feet were bare. Black hair covered the front of her face and Arl Howe shuddered when the strands parted to reveal a pair of cold, red eyes. They held such a menace that even the Arl shivered with natural fright. What was this creature? Why is it haunting him?
"I do not," Howe managed to muster enough courage to speak. "The bodies disappeared after the castle was burned."
"Disappeared? How can two bodies just disappear?"
Howe had asked himself that question plenty of times and he even tortured the men who were guarding the bodies as well. Needless to say, they were too far gone to even beg for mercy.
"You have failed me, Rendon. No matter, there are still survivors of this massacre. Two Couslands in fact," the woman cooed seductively in his ear, even though her form never budged from its position. "For your punishment though, I will curse you."
This time Howe did drop the torch and he clutched at his stomach. Agony lanced across his chest, as if he had been impaled on a longspear. Tears came unbidden to his eyes and her voice whispered from a distance, "every night, the dead shall come to haunt you, even in your dreams. It'll only stop once you give me the hearts of those that lived."
The agony halted and he let out a breathless gasp, only to find himself standing at the entrance to the catacombs. It was as if he never went down there in the first place.
Give me the hearts of those who lived and your curse will be lifted...
The woman's voice hissed in his ear and he clutched at it. He felt a certain wetness and pulled his hand back. Gray eyes widened at the sight of blood coating his fingertips and he blinked again. The blood disappeared but he could still feel the weight of it still. Was it just the dead that would haunt him or perhaps his own blood? Damn old gods! Damn them all! Howe walked briskly down to the other entrance, the one that led upstairs and into one of the dungeons. Perhaps he should send in an assassin, to capture the brothers. His only request would be to bring them to him, alive but not necessarily unspoiled.
-TBC-
Review responses:
David9999: Yes, he and Hadrian will become friends; they'll just have different ideals on how mages should be treated.
Gatorsnacks: I never really liked Morrigan either, but she has her uses.
YoshisSupport: almost to the kissing part! I want to develop their relationship first so at the end, it will be worth it.
Madness of Angels: More Arren/Anders cute moments! Woo! How was transformers 3? Worth seeing? Oh, Maker, please say yes!
DZD3: Although this chappie doesn't have our main pairing in it, I still hope you like Fergus, and the Hawke families, with a sour hint of Howe at the end. The tower is the next chappie.
The kid: this chappie should give you hints on what happened with Cullen and what may happen to him in the future.
Aelfric's Cat: Yeah, at the beginning of this story, I wanted to have Hadrian go through several heartbreaks and be hesitant in his budding one with Alistair. It looked rushed and perhaps that may have scared off potential reviewers. On another note, I want Hadrian to be as human as possible. Additionally, they won't have 'fixed' roles in their lovemaking but I'm trying to stick to the rules of a wolf pack as much as possible. We'll see how everything unravels between the two. Thanks so much for the critic though! It gave me a lot of insight into the story I've created and I really hope to hear from you on the succeeding updates!
My thanks to everyone!
Next chapter: Alistair is confused by his strange feelings for his friend and when in the Fade, he may get the answers, just not in the way he wanted them...
As the group journeys through the Tower and the Fade, they both stumble on to revelations that will either make or break them.