Chapitre 26: Luctus
"Teagan!" a nasally Orlesian accented voice called, dragging out the 'a'.
Celestine, Elisa, Erik, and Alistair whirled to face where the shout had come from, hands reaching for weapons.
"Teagan!" The shout came again as a finely dressed woman started running down the road from the castle, where moments ago the undead had flooded forth. The Wardens looked to Celestine, who shook her head; the woman was no mage. Everyone visibly relaxed; the Bann turned to address her as she drew closer. "Isolde, how…."
He was cut off by the woman collapsing into his arms, causing the surprised man to struggle to hold her up. "Oh Teagan! It's horrible!" the woman Teagan had called Isolde cried, looking up from his chest, her face streaked with tears and still remarkably clean, considering the Bann's armour was covered in gore.
"It's Connor. I don't know what to do anymore, you have to come with me!" she wailed.
"My Lady," Erik started, only also to be cut off by the newest arrival.
"Teagan, tell these peasants to go away, we don't have time!" The tone she said it in implied she thought of those accompanying the Bann about as much as she would have something stuck to the bottom of her finely embroidered shoes.
"I think it should be us asking who you might be," Celestine replied, motioning to include those with her, her tone brokering no dispute. "Who so casually comes out of castle from which mere moments ago hordes of the dead were swarming forth?"
"Teagan, who is this?!"
The Bann finally seemed to tire of Isolde's antics, gently but forcefully pushing her away from himself, and sighing heavily, "They are Grey Wardens Isolde and I owe them my life, the lives of the townspeople."
"Wardens?!" The revelation made the noble take a step back, suddenly hesitant. Celestine was sure the woman would have fallen on her backside had there not been a risk of dirtying herself; the woman seemed to have an uncanny ability to remain clean.
"Yes, we need to know what's happening in the castle," Celestine explained as calmly as she could, the redundancy of the past minute grating on her weary nerves.
Isolde broke into sobs for the second time. "Something's wrong with Connor, my son. It's all that mage's fault! I managed to get out only because I promised to bring you back. Teagan, you must!"
Teagan looked at the Wardens, torn. "I… don't see any alternative."
"It's a trap." Elisa's tone was flat.
"Yes," the Bann agreed, "but if I don't go, who knows what might happen? This way I might be able to prevent more death."
"Well then, we'll be coming along," Celestine said after a moment's pause. "Potentially throwing your life away like this is just foolish when you don't need to."
"Non, he must come alone, or whatever that mage did to Connor will get angry!"
Teagan chewed on his lip in thought, "We may be able to do both…."
"Oh?"
"There's a secret passage into the castle dungeons from underneath the old windmill. I can go with Isolde while you enter through there."
Erik nodded. "It's a risky plan, but probably the best option."
Teagan took a moment to show them where the hidden entrance was before heading to the castle alongside Isolde, allowing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief.
"Maker, how does the woman do it?" Celestine asked.
She got several questioning looks.
"She somehow manages to make every sentence an exclamation!"
Alistair chucked, "Ah, yes, she does that…must be an Orlesian thing. I'm just glad she didn't recognise me."
"I do not exclaim everything," Leliana protested.
Elisa giggled, "No, but you do make everything you say sound like its either scandalous gossip or pillow talk."
The archer ducked her head down, her hair hiding her blush at the noble's rather accurate description.
"Now, now, Sister. Let the sister be, she hasn't done anything to deserve your teasing," Erik reprimanded mildly.
"What is this, brother dearest? Do you wish to be the one to make her blush so prettily?"
"I…what? No! Nothing like that!"
Everyone besides Morrigan and Sten laughed at the Cousland's flustered response; even the dogs were making a strange chuffing laughing noise.
"Oh, woe, mocked even by the hounds," Erik finally managed, ears glowing.
They cut off the merriment then as they descended into the secret passage. Erik opted to stay behind lest something happen and they require freeing. Celestine agreed with him as Leliana, Sten, Alfonse and Triss were chosen to remain with him. Celestine was of half a mind to leave Morrigan with them as well, but that the witch might prove useful against something that concerned the unliving proved too great a reason to have her come along, even if it was at the risk of not having a mage in the reserve party.
~o~
Sorana slowly returned to the waking world - every part of her ached. It had been a good several years since she had exerted herself to the point where her reserves were all completely spent. She tasted the bitter tang of elfroot on her tongue, as well as the echoing song that seemed to define lyrium. She tried opening her eyes, only to close them tight again, blinded by the light of day.
Her lower half was decidedly uncomfortable, lying on a hard, gravelly surface. The other half was leaning against someone, a loving, quivering voice quietly singing to her, interrupted by the occasional hiccup or sniff.
Sorana shot up as what had transpired returned.
There was a startled protest behind her from the person she'd been leaning against, but that was the furthest thing from her mind. Bethany!
"Nononononononononononono." She tried to convince herself that this was some terrible, lucid nightmare. That the pain in her bones was a dream. The gaping hole her stomach seemed to be plummeting into a lie. "No! Maker, NO!"
She was kneeling next to the limp form of her sister, the younger Hawke's head miraculously intact after the punishment it had taken. But it was by no means a pretty sight; the tanned skin was horribly bruised – purple and yellow discolouring what was not hidden by blood-matted hair- and it was clear that the neck had been broken.
She ignored the fretting around her; nothing existed outside the suddenly small girl she was gripping around the arms, the absence of a pulse all too obvious. It was an eternity while she held her sister, the world losing colour, all life. Little Beth.
Dimly, she became aware of a hand resting on her shoulder, solid and warm, offering not to make all the terror go away, but to help endure it. Sorana turned to see Carver, face stone and eyes rimmed red. He nodded to her and she, after a deep, shuddering breath, nodded back. Little Beth is gone, but she would not want us to die as well.
She did not always see eye to eye with her brother, and she resented his bitterness as much as he resented her pride. But in that moment, she loved him more than anything or anyone ever before, more than she thought she could possibly ever feel for someone. Carver had always been there, whether it was her getting him out of trouble, or the other way around; they had always had each other's backs. Underneath all the facades, they were brother and sister, now not only bound by the death of their father, but by the death of their sister.
There was a sound from behind them, where the Darkspawn had swarmed from. Everyone turned at once, expecting to make their last stand. What they were not expecting was for a maroon dragon to swoop down out of the overcast sky and incinerate the Hurlocks that were charging at them.
The massive creature made a second pass, snatching up a Darkspawn that had managed to avoid the flames, its screeching form disappearing back into the clouds alongside the dragon, which re-appeared momentarily, hurtling towards the ground. Sorana was sure it would break itself on the rock-hard dirt that went on for miles around them; instead, at the last second it unfurled its wings, the snapping membrane catching it gently and allowing the creature to land on the ground without harm.
Suddenly faced with a dragon instead of Darkspawn, the scattered refugees became all the more wary. Each of them prayed that this creature would not attack them as it had the Blighted. Sorana felt a ripple in the Fade and as she watched a nimbus of energy was given off from the giant lizard, almost like fire in nature.
But the disturbance in the Fade quickly quieted and the energy that the dragon had given off disappeared. The dragon was gone; in its place was a woman. Her hair was stark white and her was face creased with age, yet her coif was styled into the shape of the dragon's horns and her eyes were a wicked yellow that exuded a timelessness that made her lined features look young. She wore feathered pauldrons and her corset-like coat was studded as armour would be. Her legs and arms were encased in steel, the design of the plate-mail also bearing similarity to the dragon's form.
"Well, well. What have we here?" the dragon-woman asked almost rhetorically. "It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now it seems they arrive in hordes!" Her face was calm, haughty almost. Sorana would have been immediately suspicious even if she had not just seen her transform from a dragon into a human.
The woman was standing between her and her staff; the Hawke cursed herself for her lack of foresight. "Impressive," she spat, the loss of her sister turning what would have been a jovial expression almost toxic. "Where'd you learn how to turn into a dragon?"
"Perhaps I am a dragon." The old woman fired back. "If so, count yourself lucky; the smell of burning Darkspawn does nothing for the appetite."
She turned around, as if to walk away. "You should know that if you intend to flee the Darkspawn, you are heading the wrong way."
Carver seemed to finally recover from the woman's shocking entry. "And you're just going to leave us here?"
Sorana could almost hear the woman laughing, despite no such sound coming from her lips. "And why not?" She turned around to face the refugees again. "I spotted a most curious sight: a mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?" Her tone carried the words as if they were in awe and wonder, taken from an age-old song, but it changed abruptly. "But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe…for the moment. Is that not enough?"
Sorana was getting annoyed by the run-around and finally her self-restraint snapped. "Fine then! Be on your way, we'll get away from them on our own."
The woman levelled a look at her. It was a look that would have turned most people into a quivering mess, but Sorana did not care. She had just lost her sister, whom she had been responsible for. She would not allow some hag to toy with them in this manner.
The dragon-woman's look turned calculating as she realised Hawke would not give way. "And where do you intend to go? The Darkspawn are everywhere, or soon will be."
"Kirkwall…in the Free Marches." Everyone was surprised as Leandra spoke, as she had not said a word since the Darkspawn had attacked Bethany, since she had called out her youngest daughter's name, since she had mumbled a wordless lullaby to her unconscious eldest.
"Kirkwall?" Sorana questioned.
"We have family there," Leandra responded quietly.
"My, that is quite the voyage you plan," the stranger stated, her tone changed yet again. As if she had discovered gold in a riverbed.
Sorana wheeled back to her, almost hissing."Any better suggestions? I hear the Deep Roads are vacant now."
The acid sarcasm did nothing to discourage the dragon-woman. Instead she laughed, cackled. "Oh, you I like!" Her tone was oddly warm. "Hurtled into the chaos you fight…and the world will shake before you."
Everyone looked at Sorana, having recently just witnessed her magic, the woman's words seemed far more possible than some vague fortune-teller's. The dragon lady walked away from them, looking as though she were deep in thought. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide." Sorana heard her mumble to herself.
Warning bells went off in the elder Hawke's head. Decide? Who is this woman to decide whether something is something or not? Particularly Fate and Chance.
But before Sorana could think further on the matter, the woman turned around, addressing them again. "It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet."
It seemed too convenient to Sorana, yet even drowning in grief as she was, she knew that they had little hope to get past the Darkspawn otherwise. "Fine, what do you want?"
Carver seemed to step back, hesitant. "Should we trust her? We don't even know what she is." He shot a questioning look at his sister.
"I know what she is," Aveline stated, leaning over the prone form of Ser Wesley. When had Wesley gone down? "The Witch of the Wilds."
She shrugged. "Some call me that," her tone uncaring. "Also Flemeth, Asha'bellanar. An 'old hag who talks too much'!" She chuckled to herself at the last title. Her focus then shifted back to Sorana, fixing her with a piercing gaze. "Does it matter? I offer you this: I will get your group past the Darkspawn, in exchange for a single delivery, to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this, for a 'Witch of the Wilds?'"
Sorana looked around to her companions, each of them tired beyond their years. They looked back, wordlessly communicating that this was their only hope. She straightened her back and clenched her fists. Mourning Bethany could wait. For now, the living mattered. She looked to the Witch of the Wilds, and nodded sharply.
This seemed to please Flemeth immeasurably. "There is a Dalish clan on Kirkwall's outskirts, take this amulet to their Keeper, Merethari. Do this and any debt between us is paid in full." She handed the item to Sorana, who swiftly slipped it into a pouch; anything that someone this powerful wanted delivered to repay any possible debt was more trouble than she would ever want to get involved in.
But then she turned to Aveline, still crouching over her husband, who coughed, the hacking sound tearing from his lungs. "Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter…."
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone