a midwinter's thaw, chapter 57
And again we witness 'Nista's complete inability to stay up past eleven on weeknights. :) Enjoy your Wednesday, wherever you are!
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 57
Author(s):w0rdinista and the vivacious pagerunner_j
Characters: Alistair, Elinora Cousland, and a slowly-growing cast of thousands
Rating: T
Pairing: Cousland/Alistair
Summary: It's eight years after the Archdemon's defeat, eight years after Loghain's heroic death on the top of Fort Drakon, and eight years after Alistair stormed out of the Landsmeet, never to be seen again. It's five years since Elinora took up the mantle of teyrna of Highever after Fergus remarried and became King in the process. Now Alistair and Elinora are back together in Highever, with trouble brewing all around. On top of that, the royal family has come to visit, three more Wardens are in attendance, and the Wardens' worrying dreams have returned, along with even greater troubles and tragedies. There are still last-minute preparations to be completed before the Wardens and knights of Highever hunt down Korath in the caves -- despite Fergus' troublesome suspicions, there is a storm coming and much work to be done. Perhaps more work than anyone expects.
Elinora took the long route around to the courtyard, hoping that the gusts of wind cutting through the deserted side corridor might cool the anger heating her blood.
It wasn't working so far.
Her mind raced as she tried to guess out who had passed on rumors regarding Alistair to her brother - it was a maddening exercise, for she had no idea even the nature of said rumors, only that they had to do with Alistair's past. But such a thing made no sense: no one else knew of Alistair's past - not the sordid details, at any rate. And she'd told Fergus... well, some of what Alistair had been involved with, and she'd thought he'd at the very least decided to acquiesce to her judgment. She'd thought everything was finally laid to rest, but apparently not, and now someone was telling tales and-
Elinora's hand flew to her mouth.
Oh, Andraste's holy knickers. She stopped suddenly, her other hand shooting out to brace against the stone wall. Molly's rumor campaign.
It was the only explanation. With all of the stories flinging around about him, perhaps a few had landed a bit too close to the mark, however unintentionally.
Elinora bowed her head and took several deep, gulping breaths of icy air, clenching her eyes shut until spots danced behind her lids. You can't think about this now. We'll figure it out later, but right now there's a job to do.
"Elinora!" Alistair's voice careened off the stones and she turned, feeling her heart ache a little as she saw him come striding toward her. "Wait up!"
'And what else has he told you?'
She squashed Fergus's earlier words under a mental boot-heel as she looked up at Alistair, flushed and out of breath - he was still getting used to the heavier armor, she'd wager - and now falling into step beside her.
It was right where he belonged, rumors be damned.
"So," he asked, "what was that little-"
A sharp, sudden swell of emotion welled up in her, tangling and twisting with her frustration at Fergus, and soon blotting it out entirely. Without wholly planning to, the words came tumbling out. "I love you."
Turning sharply, Alistair stopped short, blinked, and simply stared at her for several long moments, and Elinora realized, just off the look he was giving her, that she hadn't so much as uttered those words in eight years. Oh, she'd thought them often enough recently, but she hadn't truly given voice to them. For that matter, neither had he.
"You…"
Emboldened, Elinora squared her shoulders and inclined her head. "I love you, Alistair." Then she tilted her head and gave him a smile, forcibly pushing Fergus and hazy half-accusations out of her mind. "I prefer not to repeat myself, but surely it won't hurt you to hear it again, eh?"
The startled look faded away, melting into warmth as he took her hand and tugged her closer. "I confess I'm curious as to what brought that on," he said, emotion making his voice rough, "but I'm the last person you're going to hear complaining about it." And before even a whisper of worry could blossom in Elinora's mind, Alistair tilted his head down, until their foreheads touched, smiling even as the breathed words exploded into puffs of steam around them: "And I love you."
Hard on the heels of Fergus' words, came Anders': 'I don't think you could tell a convincing lie to save your life.'
It was true; Alistair couldn't. And he wasn't. The emotion in his eyes was too genuine, the way his voice caught just now when he said the words, the way he tipped his head just so and pressed a chaste, but painfully tender kiss against her lips. Then he pulled away a fraction and stole a glance around them; they still had the corridor to themselves, at least for the moment.
"Like I said, I'm not complaining, but... Dare I ask where that came from?"
She shook her head. "It just needed to be said."
He nodded and pulled back more until they were once again side by side and on their way to the courtyard. "Well, again. Not complaining." He cleared his throat and took a moment to recover his savoir faire. "So, was it the king or your brother who wanted to speak with you?"
Elinora wrinkled her nose, feeling a renewed flare of irritation at Fergus. "A little of both, I suppose."
"Is something wrong?"
"I don't know yet," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But we can talk about it later - neither of us needs any distractions right now. But after we've had something to eat, and a bath-" with those words, Alistair's features lit into an unholy smirk, verging on a leer, and Elinora couldn't help but laugh, swatting him. "All right, all right, you pervert," she said, giving him a playful shove toward the stairs. "Off to the wall with you."
"Yes, ma'am, Commander, ser," Alistair replied with a grin and a shallow bow before he turned and ambled away, disappearing up the stairwell that led to the battlements.
Elinora watched him go, her thoughts turning inward as she did. If her suspicions were correct, and Fergus had heard one of Molly's rumors…
We will deal with it, Elinora thought with a small nod. Like we've dealt with everything else. They'd come this far, after all - and they remained standing and unified after all of it. Besides, she thought with a wry grin, compared to a psychotic blood mage, what are a few silly rumors?
She hadn't realized she was smiling until a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts:
"It's good to see you happy again."
Elinora whirled to see Nathaniel leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He was watching her with a bare shadow of a smile. Elinora made a pained face.
"It's that obvious, is it?"
He laughed, then, a low chuckle as he shook his head. "Perhaps a little. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, however." He paused a beat. "You, on the other hand, look quite put out over it."
Elinora thought of her brother again and let out a sigh. "Yes, well, I fear some might be inclined to disagree with you that it's a good thing."
"Does this," asked Nathaniel, speaking slowly, carefully choosing every word, " have to do with whatever it was your brother wished to speak to you about?"
She looked at Nathaniel, brows furrowing. "How could you tell?"
"You both have the same frown. He looked every inch as troubled as you do now when he asked me to relay the message."
Elinora crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with Nathaniel. "It's a rather long story, I'm afraid."
"Eight years long, from the looks of it," replied Nathaniel, giving her a wry smile.
"Hah. Yes, about that long. To cut through the worst of it, though…" Elinora looked around and lowered her voice. "Fergus has started to question Alistair's loyalties and whether I ought to put him in charge of as much as I have."
Nathaniel's initial expression - annoyed incredulity - passed almost too quickly for Elinora to catch, but seeing it at all made her feel significantly reassured. "Elinora, you are a great many things - a warrior without peer and an inspiring leader, for starters - but of all the things you are, there is one thing you are not: naïve. I do not believe your trust in Alistair is misplaced - anyone who's watched the two of you in battle would be able to see it. But your brother hasn't had the privilege of that perspective." Here, Nathaniel smiled a little. "Be patient with him. As I recall, he thought you were daft for conscripting me, too."
That was certainly true enough, and the irony of the situation wasn't lost on Elinora, either - these days Fergus had more trust in Nathaniel than he did Alistair.
"You're right," she finally conceded with a deep sigh.
"At any rate, whatever your brother's concerns, they can't matter right now. The last thing you - or any of us - need right now is such a distraction."
"On that, we're agreed." She looked toward the battlements and let out a breath. "I didn't tell Alistair." Nathaniel followed her gaze and let out a silent "Ah." Elinora shrugged and said, "I didn't want to plant doubts. He's doing well. He has my men's trust and he's confident leading them. I can't jeopardize that. I won't."
The quick patter of light footsteps interrupted them, and Elinora and Nathaniel looked up in time to see Mikarra hurrying across the courtyard, her staff bouncing against her back as she walked. The change in Nathaniel was almost imperceptible, but he seemed to relax minutely, his lips curving into a small but natural, easy smile.
"It's good to see you happy, too," Elinora whispered under her breath.
"Thank you."
Once Mikarra joined them, Nathaniel took a moment to straighten her cloak, which had gone askew, ostensibly while she was rushing to the courtyard. The understated tenderness with which he adjusted and smoothed out Mikarra's cloak spoke volumes, as did Mikarra's blush and smile as he did. Elinora looked away suddenly, feeling almost as if she were intruding on an exceptionally private moment between the two of them.
Then Nathaniel cleared his throat and Elinora looked up again. "Shall we?"
Elinora gave a firm nod and as she led them both across the courtyard and past the castle gates, the snow began a slow, steady descent. Elinora glanced up at the sky, quietly remarking, "It's almost a shame Anders isn't here to complain about the cold."
"On that," Nathaniel muttered good-naturedly, "we may have to disagree."
As evening wore on, the snow began falling faster and thicker, the winds sending fine swirls of sparkling powder dancing out across the pristine landscape. The trees offered some respite from the elements, but not nearly enough, and it wasn't long before the woods were nigh impassable. Mikarra kept her staff alight, and as they lost more and more daylight, the glow helped - until the snow fell so heavily that even Mikarra's magic couldn't permeate the sheet of white churning all around them.
Elinora stopped trudging through the snow, now easily as high as her knees, and turned to Mikarra and Nathaniel, raising a hand to shield her face from the onslaught of snowflakes.
"Everything seems clear enough for now," she called, her voice straining to be heard above the wind. "Let's head back to the castle for a short while before my armor decides to freeze up." She'd said it lightly enough, but there was the ring of truth in her words - it was getting harder to see and harder to navigate. She frowned at the dark sky above them. "If this keeps up, I'm almost inclined to think we'd be more effective on the wall where…" A sharp gust of wind screeched through the trees, and the words died in Elinora's throat as a sudden - and yet entirely familiar - wave of nausea and vertigo washed over her.
It hadn't been the wind at all, but the piercing wail of a shriek.
Nathaniel was the first to draw his weapon, nocking an arrow into his bow and turning toward the source of the sound. The wind's distortion made it difficult, however, and the storm's own eerie howling made it seem as though the shriek was anything but alone. Elinora drew her own blade, hoping that wasn't true -- but knowing it likely was. "More light," she commanded.
Mikarra didn't hesitate; the shriek obviously knew the Wardens were near, so there was no sense in trying to hide. It would be better to fight in the clear than stumbling around in the dark. Mikarra murmured a few words, forcing the light atop her staff to blaze at twice its normal brilliance. Although the weapon shook in her hands, as if she was pushing it past its capacity, the light -- and more than light, for Elinora felt unsteady heat ripple through the air -- finally cut through the air, penetrating just far enough to show the patchwork shriek that was slashing through snowdrifts to approach them.
Nathaniel let the arrow fly.
The shriek loosed a terrible sound when the flaming arrow penetrated its flesh. Nathaniel's aim was sure, but the shriek's motions were so erratic that it only struck its shoulder, instead of going deeper. Elinora saw its dead flesh begin to bubble and slough away. The smell made her stomach twist.
It only made the shriek angrier.
Struggling against the snow, she lumbered forward. Mikarra's staff spit bolts of fire, making the shriek flail and falter, but it still strained forward, screaming so that Elinora felt it in her bones. She steeled herself, though, and slashed out with a decisive stroke that split the darkspawn's throat. With the other arm, she whipped up the shield and slammed it backwards. It fell in pieces.
"More?" she breathed, but she already knew. Her head still swam with the foul sense of them. But both Mikarra and Nathaniel were looking around uneasily, unable to pinpoint the source. After the shriek's cries, the silence was terrible.
Nathaniel backed up one difficult step, looking into the trees. "Mikarra?" he murmured.
She swung her staff around, pointing its light further into the woods. Elinora saw her hands tremble, as if the staff had grown too heavy; even over the horrible smell of the decomposing darkspawn, the scent of charring wood was faintly discernible. "Mikarra," Elinora began, her voice wary. "Be careful--"
A deep, dour thrum made them all look down.
Almost too late, Elinora remembered the map, and the path the suspected tunnels took. One of them had arced very near the castle indeed. Elinora felt the cold, bitter air catch in her throat. "Maker's breath, they're beneath us--"
Just as she spoke, the ground quaked outright.
Nathaniel was knocked right off his feet, into a deep pile of snow that seemed determined to hold him fast. Mikarra flashed a bolt of fire at the snow beneath; it melted just enough to free him. Or so they all thought. Nathaniel rose halfway, only to gasp and stumble again -- something had thrust up from beneath the very soil, grasping at him as he tried to rise. Mikarra cried out and rushed forward faster than the snow should have allowed, stabbing her staff straight down into the darkspawn's hand.
Elinora grabbed Nathaniel and pulled him to her before the ground gave way. In his place was the horrid sight of an ogre's fist pummeling a hole straight through the earth.
Nathaniel stood free, drew another arrow, and shot through the gap. The roar it provoked shook straight up through them all.
"They're coming," Mikarra gasped, pointing behind them. "More --"
Elinora saw another jolt shake the earth. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, drawing shadows over everything, but then she realized the truth: the darkspawn tunneling up through the earth were actually staining the snow with their mere touch, making it tumble aside in blackened drifts before the creatures even emerged.
Somehow, the idea of them sullying something so pure was the greatest insult of all, and Elinora roared as she leapt forward to attack.
She barely knew what she was fighting now -- resurrected darkspawn, hybrids, heads of shrieks or hurlocks grafted onto animals who deserved far cleaner deaths than this… all she could do was cut them down as fast as she could. The snow and the unstable earth made it an ugly, desperate fight. Mikarra saved her more than once with a well-timed blast of power, and even managed to blast one of Nathaniel's arrows from the sky before it struck her instead of the darkspawn she was struggling with. He'd never have missed under ordinary conditions, but this -- this was a waking nightmare, so cold that it was hard even to move, and with the wind tossing commands and pleas aside before anyone could hear them.
Elinora wasn't even sure anyone could hear her scream when the earth cracked beneath her, and started to swallow her whole.
The subsonic laugh of an ogre -- or what had been an ogre -- shook her bones as she was dragged down, closer to the grasping hands of something she couldn't even identify. She didn't have room to properly wield her sword. Choking out a desperate breath, she pummeled it down hilt-first instead, feeling it sink into decaying flesh, but neither the darkspawn nor the cave-in stopped….
"Elinora!" Nathaniel roared. She felt him grab her under the arms and pull hard, but her left foot wouldn't budge. Pain radiated from it as his efforts only twisted it further. Mikarra blasted out a quick burst of energy, enough to crack the ground just a little bit more; then, along with a primal scream of her own, she loosed a second bolt of energy that split the ogre-thing's head apart. Elinora, tumbling free, retched into the snow.
"Get back, both of you," Mikarra shouted. Elinora could suddenly hear her with disturbing clarity over the wind; the mage's voice was infused with a terrible, urgent sort of power. "I'm caving it in!"
Nathaniel's eyes widened. "Mikarra, careful--"
She only waved him back. Elinora, stumbling along with him on her wounded foot, managed to get out of range, but Nathaniel's howl of fear as one more unnamable creature lurched up to face Mikarra was almost unbearable. They had to do something--
But Mikarra only clenched both hands around her staff, shut her eyes, and slashed the weapon out, making the air shudder -- and behind the roaring beast, an enormous tree cracked apart, its trunk splitting clean across.
So did the staff, shattering in Mikarra's hands.
She screamed, tumbling away just before the tree came down. The darkspawn didn't even have time to turn. The tree came down hard, thudding down into the earth and crashing into the tunnel beneath, and absolutely obliterating everything underneath it. Elinora gasped, watching grasping limbs go slack, and hearing the cries and shrieks and roars of the darkspawn beneath cut off in a single instant. Mikarra had crushed them all.
The sick sense of their presence finally ebbed away.
Elinora stared at the fallen tree's quivering branches, watching snow and earth slowly settle over the darkspawn's grave. Then she heard Nathaniel murmur Mikarra's name. He got up, running as quickly as he could to her side. She was sitting back against another tree, eyes squeezed shut. What was left of her staff was scattered all around her, and her hands were clearly bleeding. "Mikarra," Nathaniel said again, voice urgent. "Mikarra, are you--"
Her eyes snapped open. She was staring upward, into the gap her tree had made in the forest's cover. Elinora did the same, realizing in a sick rush exactly what the darkspawn's attack from beneath had been:
A distraction, to keep them all from watching the skies.
"Korath," Mikarra breathed, as they all saw his wings blotting out what was left of the light.
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 57
Author(s):w0rdinista and the vivacious pagerunner_j
Characters: Alistair, Elinora Cousland, and a slowly-growing cast of thousands
Rating: T
Pairing: Cousland/Alistair
Summary: It's eight years after the Archdemon's defeat, eight years after Loghain's heroic death on the top of Fort Drakon, and eight years after Alistair stormed out of the Landsmeet, never to be seen again. It's five years since Elinora took up the mantle of teyrna of Highever after Fergus remarried and became King in the process. Now Alistair and Elinora are back together in Highever, with trouble brewing all around. On top of that, the royal family has come to visit, three more Wardens are in attendance, and the Wardens' worrying dreams have returned, along with even greater troubles and tragedies. There are still last-minute preparations to be completed before the Wardens and knights of Highever hunt down Korath in the caves -- despite Fergus' troublesome suspicions, there is a storm coming and much work to be done. Perhaps more work than anyone expects.
Elinora took the long route around to the courtyard, hoping that the gusts of wind cutting through the deserted side corridor might cool the anger heating her blood.
It wasn't working so far.
Her mind raced as she tried to guess out who had passed on rumors regarding Alistair to her brother - it was a maddening exercise, for she had no idea even the nature of said rumors, only that they had to do with Alistair's past. But such a thing made no sense: no one else knew of Alistair's past - not the sordid details, at any rate. And she'd told Fergus... well, some of what Alistair had been involved with, and she'd thought he'd at the very least decided to acquiesce to her judgment. She'd thought everything was finally laid to rest, but apparently not, and now someone was telling tales and-
Elinora's hand flew to her mouth.
Oh, Andraste's holy knickers. She stopped suddenly, her other hand shooting out to brace against the stone wall. Molly's rumor campaign.
It was the only explanation. With all of the stories flinging around about him, perhaps a few had landed a bit too close to the mark, however unintentionally.
Elinora bowed her head and took several deep, gulping breaths of icy air, clenching her eyes shut until spots danced behind her lids. You can't think about this now. We'll figure it out later, but right now there's a job to do.
"Elinora!" Alistair's voice careened off the stones and she turned, feeling her heart ache a little as she saw him come striding toward her. "Wait up!"
'And what else has he told you?'
She squashed Fergus's earlier words under a mental boot-heel as she looked up at Alistair, flushed and out of breath - he was still getting used to the heavier armor, she'd wager - and now falling into step beside her.
It was right where he belonged, rumors be damned.
"So," he asked, "what was that little-"
A sharp, sudden swell of emotion welled up in her, tangling and twisting with her frustration at Fergus, and soon blotting it out entirely. Without wholly planning to, the words came tumbling out. "I love you."
Turning sharply, Alistair stopped short, blinked, and simply stared at her for several long moments, and Elinora realized, just off the look he was giving her, that she hadn't so much as uttered those words in eight years. Oh, she'd thought them often enough recently, but she hadn't truly given voice to them. For that matter, neither had he.
"You…"
Emboldened, Elinora squared her shoulders and inclined her head. "I love you, Alistair." Then she tilted her head and gave him a smile, forcibly pushing Fergus and hazy half-accusations out of her mind. "I prefer not to repeat myself, but surely it won't hurt you to hear it again, eh?"
The startled look faded away, melting into warmth as he took her hand and tugged her closer. "I confess I'm curious as to what brought that on," he said, emotion making his voice rough, "but I'm the last person you're going to hear complaining about it." And before even a whisper of worry could blossom in Elinora's mind, Alistair tilted his head down, until their foreheads touched, smiling even as the breathed words exploded into puffs of steam around them: "And I love you."
Hard on the heels of Fergus' words, came Anders': 'I don't think you could tell a convincing lie to save your life.'
It was true; Alistair couldn't. And he wasn't. The emotion in his eyes was too genuine, the way his voice caught just now when he said the words, the way he tipped his head just so and pressed a chaste, but painfully tender kiss against her lips. Then he pulled away a fraction and stole a glance around them; they still had the corridor to themselves, at least for the moment.
"Like I said, I'm not complaining, but... Dare I ask where that came from?"
She shook her head. "It just needed to be said."
He nodded and pulled back more until they were once again side by side and on their way to the courtyard. "Well, again. Not complaining." He cleared his throat and took a moment to recover his savoir faire. "So, was it the king or your brother who wanted to speak with you?"
Elinora wrinkled her nose, feeling a renewed flare of irritation at Fergus. "A little of both, I suppose."
"Is something wrong?"
"I don't know yet," she sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But we can talk about it later - neither of us needs any distractions right now. But after we've had something to eat, and a bath-" with those words, Alistair's features lit into an unholy smirk, verging on a leer, and Elinora couldn't help but laugh, swatting him. "All right, all right, you pervert," she said, giving him a playful shove toward the stairs. "Off to the wall with you."
"Yes, ma'am, Commander, ser," Alistair replied with a grin and a shallow bow before he turned and ambled away, disappearing up the stairwell that led to the battlements.
Elinora watched him go, her thoughts turning inward as she did. If her suspicions were correct, and Fergus had heard one of Molly's rumors…
We will deal with it, Elinora thought with a small nod. Like we've dealt with everything else. They'd come this far, after all - and they remained standing and unified after all of it. Besides, she thought with a wry grin, compared to a psychotic blood mage, what are a few silly rumors?
She hadn't realized she was smiling until a quiet voice interrupted her thoughts:
"It's good to see you happy again."
Elinora whirled to see Nathaniel leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He was watching her with a bare shadow of a smile. Elinora made a pained face.
"It's that obvious, is it?"
He laughed, then, a low chuckle as he shook his head. "Perhaps a little. I don't think it's necessarily a bad thing, however." He paused a beat. "You, on the other hand, look quite put out over it."
Elinora thought of her brother again and let out a sigh. "Yes, well, I fear some might be inclined to disagree with you that it's a good thing."
"Does this," asked Nathaniel, speaking slowly, carefully choosing every word, " have to do with whatever it was your brother wished to speak to you about?"
She looked at Nathaniel, brows furrowing. "How could you tell?"
"You both have the same frown. He looked every inch as troubled as you do now when he asked me to relay the message."
Elinora crossed her arms and leaned against the wall with Nathaniel. "It's a rather long story, I'm afraid."
"Eight years long, from the looks of it," replied Nathaniel, giving her a wry smile.
"Hah. Yes, about that long. To cut through the worst of it, though…" Elinora looked around and lowered her voice. "Fergus has started to question Alistair's loyalties and whether I ought to put him in charge of as much as I have."
Nathaniel's initial expression - annoyed incredulity - passed almost too quickly for Elinora to catch, but seeing it at all made her feel significantly reassured. "Elinora, you are a great many things - a warrior without peer and an inspiring leader, for starters - but of all the things you are, there is one thing you are not: naïve. I do not believe your trust in Alistair is misplaced - anyone who's watched the two of you in battle would be able to see it. But your brother hasn't had the privilege of that perspective." Here, Nathaniel smiled a little. "Be patient with him. As I recall, he thought you were daft for conscripting me, too."
That was certainly true enough, and the irony of the situation wasn't lost on Elinora, either - these days Fergus had more trust in Nathaniel than he did Alistair.
"You're right," she finally conceded with a deep sigh.
"At any rate, whatever your brother's concerns, they can't matter right now. The last thing you - or any of us - need right now is such a distraction."
"On that, we're agreed." She looked toward the battlements and let out a breath. "I didn't tell Alistair." Nathaniel followed her gaze and let out a silent "Ah." Elinora shrugged and said, "I didn't want to plant doubts. He's doing well. He has my men's trust and he's confident leading them. I can't jeopardize that. I won't."
The quick patter of light footsteps interrupted them, and Elinora and Nathaniel looked up in time to see Mikarra hurrying across the courtyard, her staff bouncing against her back as she walked. The change in Nathaniel was almost imperceptible, but he seemed to relax minutely, his lips curving into a small but natural, easy smile.
"It's good to see you happy, too," Elinora whispered under her breath.
"Thank you."
Once Mikarra joined them, Nathaniel took a moment to straighten her cloak, which had gone askew, ostensibly while she was rushing to the courtyard. The understated tenderness with which he adjusted and smoothed out Mikarra's cloak spoke volumes, as did Mikarra's blush and smile as he did. Elinora looked away suddenly, feeling almost as if she were intruding on an exceptionally private moment between the two of them.
Then Nathaniel cleared his throat and Elinora looked up again. "Shall we?"
Elinora gave a firm nod and as she led them both across the courtyard and past the castle gates, the snow began a slow, steady descent. Elinora glanced up at the sky, quietly remarking, "It's almost a shame Anders isn't here to complain about the cold."
"On that," Nathaniel muttered good-naturedly, "we may have to disagree."
As evening wore on, the snow began falling faster and thicker, the winds sending fine swirls of sparkling powder dancing out across the pristine landscape. The trees offered some respite from the elements, but not nearly enough, and it wasn't long before the woods were nigh impassable. Mikarra kept her staff alight, and as they lost more and more daylight, the glow helped - until the snow fell so heavily that even Mikarra's magic couldn't permeate the sheet of white churning all around them.
Elinora stopped trudging through the snow, now easily as high as her knees, and turned to Mikarra and Nathaniel, raising a hand to shield her face from the onslaught of snowflakes.
"Everything seems clear enough for now," she called, her voice straining to be heard above the wind. "Let's head back to the castle for a short while before my armor decides to freeze up." She'd said it lightly enough, but there was the ring of truth in her words - it was getting harder to see and harder to navigate. She frowned at the dark sky above them. "If this keeps up, I'm almost inclined to think we'd be more effective on the wall where…" A sharp gust of wind screeched through the trees, and the words died in Elinora's throat as a sudden - and yet entirely familiar - wave of nausea and vertigo washed over her.
It hadn't been the wind at all, but the piercing wail of a shriek.
Nathaniel was the first to draw his weapon, nocking an arrow into his bow and turning toward the source of the sound. The wind's distortion made it difficult, however, and the storm's own eerie howling made it seem as though the shriek was anything but alone. Elinora drew her own blade, hoping that wasn't true -- but knowing it likely was. "More light," she commanded.
Mikarra didn't hesitate; the shriek obviously knew the Wardens were near, so there was no sense in trying to hide. It would be better to fight in the clear than stumbling around in the dark. Mikarra murmured a few words, forcing the light atop her staff to blaze at twice its normal brilliance. Although the weapon shook in her hands, as if she was pushing it past its capacity, the light -- and more than light, for Elinora felt unsteady heat ripple through the air -- finally cut through the air, penetrating just far enough to show the patchwork shriek that was slashing through snowdrifts to approach them.
Nathaniel let the arrow fly.
The shriek loosed a terrible sound when the flaming arrow penetrated its flesh. Nathaniel's aim was sure, but the shriek's motions were so erratic that it only struck its shoulder, instead of going deeper. Elinora saw its dead flesh begin to bubble and slough away. The smell made her stomach twist.
It only made the shriek angrier.
Struggling against the snow, she lumbered forward. Mikarra's staff spit bolts of fire, making the shriek flail and falter, but it still strained forward, screaming so that Elinora felt it in her bones. She steeled herself, though, and slashed out with a decisive stroke that split the darkspawn's throat. With the other arm, she whipped up the shield and slammed it backwards. It fell in pieces.
"More?" she breathed, but she already knew. Her head still swam with the foul sense of them. But both Mikarra and Nathaniel were looking around uneasily, unable to pinpoint the source. After the shriek's cries, the silence was terrible.
Nathaniel backed up one difficult step, looking into the trees. "Mikarra?" he murmured.
She swung her staff around, pointing its light further into the woods. Elinora saw her hands tremble, as if the staff had grown too heavy; even over the horrible smell of the decomposing darkspawn, the scent of charring wood was faintly discernible. "Mikarra," Elinora began, her voice wary. "Be careful--"
A deep, dour thrum made them all look down.
Almost too late, Elinora remembered the map, and the path the suspected tunnels took. One of them had arced very near the castle indeed. Elinora felt the cold, bitter air catch in her throat. "Maker's breath, they're beneath us--"
Just as she spoke, the ground quaked outright.
Nathaniel was knocked right off his feet, into a deep pile of snow that seemed determined to hold him fast. Mikarra flashed a bolt of fire at the snow beneath; it melted just enough to free him. Or so they all thought. Nathaniel rose halfway, only to gasp and stumble again -- something had thrust up from beneath the very soil, grasping at him as he tried to rise. Mikarra cried out and rushed forward faster than the snow should have allowed, stabbing her staff straight down into the darkspawn's hand.
Elinora grabbed Nathaniel and pulled him to her before the ground gave way. In his place was the horrid sight of an ogre's fist pummeling a hole straight through the earth.
Nathaniel stood free, drew another arrow, and shot through the gap. The roar it provoked shook straight up through them all.
"They're coming," Mikarra gasped, pointing behind them. "More --"
Elinora saw another jolt shake the earth. For a moment she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, drawing shadows over everything, but then she realized the truth: the darkspawn tunneling up through the earth were actually staining the snow with their mere touch, making it tumble aside in blackened drifts before the creatures even emerged.
Somehow, the idea of them sullying something so pure was the greatest insult of all, and Elinora roared as she leapt forward to attack.
She barely knew what she was fighting now -- resurrected darkspawn, hybrids, heads of shrieks or hurlocks grafted onto animals who deserved far cleaner deaths than this… all she could do was cut them down as fast as she could. The snow and the unstable earth made it an ugly, desperate fight. Mikarra saved her more than once with a well-timed blast of power, and even managed to blast one of Nathaniel's arrows from the sky before it struck her instead of the darkspawn she was struggling with. He'd never have missed under ordinary conditions, but this -- this was a waking nightmare, so cold that it was hard even to move, and with the wind tossing commands and pleas aside before anyone could hear them.
Elinora wasn't even sure anyone could hear her scream when the earth cracked beneath her, and started to swallow her whole.
The subsonic laugh of an ogre -- or what had been an ogre -- shook her bones as she was dragged down, closer to the grasping hands of something she couldn't even identify. She didn't have room to properly wield her sword. Choking out a desperate breath, she pummeled it down hilt-first instead, feeling it sink into decaying flesh, but neither the darkspawn nor the cave-in stopped….
"Elinora!" Nathaniel roared. She felt him grab her under the arms and pull hard, but her left foot wouldn't budge. Pain radiated from it as his efforts only twisted it further. Mikarra blasted out a quick burst of energy, enough to crack the ground just a little bit more; then, along with a primal scream of her own, she loosed a second bolt of energy that split the ogre-thing's head apart. Elinora, tumbling free, retched into the snow.
"Get back, both of you," Mikarra shouted. Elinora could suddenly hear her with disturbing clarity over the wind; the mage's voice was infused with a terrible, urgent sort of power. "I'm caving it in!"
Nathaniel's eyes widened. "Mikarra, careful--"
She only waved him back. Elinora, stumbling along with him on her wounded foot, managed to get out of range, but Nathaniel's howl of fear as one more unnamable creature lurched up to face Mikarra was almost unbearable. They had to do something--
But Mikarra only clenched both hands around her staff, shut her eyes, and slashed the weapon out, making the air shudder -- and behind the roaring beast, an enormous tree cracked apart, its trunk splitting clean across.
So did the staff, shattering in Mikarra's hands.
She screamed, tumbling away just before the tree came down. The darkspawn didn't even have time to turn. The tree came down hard, thudding down into the earth and crashing into the tunnel beneath, and absolutely obliterating everything underneath it. Elinora gasped, watching grasping limbs go slack, and hearing the cries and shrieks and roars of the darkspawn beneath cut off in a single instant. Mikarra had crushed them all.
The sick sense of their presence finally ebbed away.
Elinora stared at the fallen tree's quivering branches, watching snow and earth slowly settle over the darkspawn's grave. Then she heard Nathaniel murmur Mikarra's name. He got up, running as quickly as he could to her side. She was sitting back against another tree, eyes squeezed shut. What was left of her staff was scattered all around her, and her hands were clearly bleeding. "Mikarra," Nathaniel said again, voice urgent. "Mikarra, are you--"
Her eyes snapped open. She was staring upward, into the gap her tree had made in the forest's cover. Elinora did the same, realizing in a sick rush exactly what the darkspawn's attack from beneath had been:
A distraction, to keep them all from watching the skies.
"Korath," Mikarra breathed, as they all saw his wings blotting out what was left of the light.