a midwinter's thaw, chapter 77
All right then. Early post is eeeearly (...but it's Wednesday somewhere, right?). As it turns out, things are afoot, and I don't want to try tackling this one when I'm asleep on my feet. ;) So here you go, folks. We're almost there….
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 77
Author(s): pagerunner_j and the phenomenal doot-doo-doo-doo-doo…mahna mahna…doot-doo-doo-doo.... w0rdinista
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. 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. Now there's no more time to waste, and the final battle rages -- and they must take down Korath once and for all, whatever it takes….
---
Countless scenarios had whirled through Elinora's mind over the days leading up to this confrontation. She'd considered victory, of course, and she'd considered defeat. She had even, in the small hours of one morning, slipped out of bed and down to her study, where she'd quickly drafted up a document naming Molly her temporary successor, until Fergus could appoint someone else (including Molly), should the worst befall her in battle.
But never had she considered the possibility that Korath's defeat might also mean their own demise. Now, as larger and larger chunks of rock fell down around them, the faintest edge of worry niggled into her mind: Korath could very easily take the lot of them with him if he fell.
She set her jaw and scowled, slashing Starfang forward and plunging it into Korath's ankle - Alistair was doing the same on the other side. She twisted the blade and pulled, hearing things tear and snap even as Korath bellowed and hissed above them. He was crippled and hexed, and between Anders' anti-magic spells, and her and Alistair's smiting attacks, he was starting to waver. Then, suddenly, a strange, rippling greenish light rippled forward, and Elinora yanked Tomas out of the way just before the glyph surrounded Korath, and he screamed again - Elinora realized almost immediately what had been done.
Though, when she glanced over her shoulder at Allan and Anders, she wasn't sure which of them had done it -- Allan, most likely, given the uncertain shape the glyph took, and yet she still had trouble wrapping her mind around that. But she wasn't going to waste precious time thinking about it. She turned to the rest of her men and bellowed above the noise:
"Strike! Hard as you can! Strike!"
And strike they did. Elinora wasn't sure just how much damage they inflicted on Korath - blood gushed from wounds, and leathery skin tore beneath their blades far easier than it had until then. They were causing damage, and he knew it.
But just as Elinora's own feelings were edging toward optimism, Korath began to beat his wings, despite the rips and tears in the flesh. It was still enough to swirl heat and filth around them in a blinding, choking cloud. Elinora lifted her shield against the foul debris and shouted again for them to strike, no matter what.
She and Alistair fought to clear the air, but they could hear the way Korath was screaming in pain - Yes, she fiercely thought - but then the glyph's dark light stuttered out, and before Anders (or Allan, for that matter) could cast any other hex or spell, before Elinora or Alistair could smite him back into submission, Korath gathered what mana he could, and suddenly the hot white light of a burst of chain-lighting lit the entire cavern in wild, flickering flashes, striking Nathaniel with deadly accuracy. Nathaniel's cry of pain was barely audible to Elinora above her own scream as he sunk to the ground, his bow falling from his hands. With a growled curse, she sunk her sword as deep as she could into Korath's flesh, not caring where she struck, only that she struck and struck hard. From the corner of her eye she saw Tristan and Anders helping Nathaniel up, and she felt a rush of relief to see he was only injured -- however badly.
Another down, she thought, looking around her, trying to gauge each fighter's condition. Alistair, Perrin, and Tristan seemed to be in the best shape. Tomas had been slowed by that knock on the head earlier, but seemed to be fighting through it - his reflexes weren't as sharp as she knew they could be, but he was still an able fighter, and still very much causing damage. Elinora knew her own magically-healed injuries were flaring up and slowing her down, no matter how ferociously she pushed through the pain. Alec was dead, and Nathaniel was injured beyond what even Anders could manage on the battlefield. Ranged fighters - save Anders himself - were gone. They all had to redouble their efforts and stay ahead of Korath.
And for the Maker's sake, we have to make sure he doesn't get the chance to gather any more mana, Elinora thought, waving Alistair closer. Korath was so large that a regular smite did very little damage, and adding to that was the fact that independently, she and Alistair were significantly weakened at this stage in the battle. She held out her hand; Alistair took it with a nod, knowing what to do next.
They were both so immersed in the battle, both of them completely focused on the fight before them, that it was remarkably easy to summon the power for the shared smite. At this point in such a battle, their will was primarily what was keeping them fighting at all. As such, grabbing hold of that will and focusing it, letting it grow sharp and hot, allowing it to flow into and through them both felt like the only right thing to do.
Elinora stepped even closer to Alistair and let her rising energy merge with his.
It was, as it had been in Korath's lab, a startlingly intimate experience, and Elinora could not quite keep a tiny portion of her mind from marveling at how this felt. For a moment, a tiny slice of time before allowing the smite to break free, Elinora felt as if she and Alistair were connected far beyond their joined hands. Then his fingers tightened around hers and she gasped as they both flung their arms out, the holy light filling the chamber and chasing away every last shadow, cleansing every last lingering shadow even as the attack slammed hard into Korath's body, hard enough to send him stumbling back. As he went, his wings flailed, slamming hard into the walls and ceiling, making even more debris fall around them; one deadly-sharp stalactite fell and landed in front of them, far too close for comfort.
"We need to end this soon!" Alistair yelled above the din. Elinora nodded once.
"Couldn't agree more," she said raising her sword. "Tristan!" she called out to the knight, before gesturing to Korath's exposed belly. Tristan's greatsword was the only one of their weapons that could pierce Korath's hide deeply enough to deal a wound serious enough that the rest of them could capitalize on.
The knight read Elinora's gestures clearly and charged forward while Korath was still dazed from the smite, a mighty battle cry roaring from his lips. The other fighters advanced as well, but it was Tristan's sword that plunged deep into Korath's belly. The blood-mage screamed, swatting at Tristan - hard enough to send the knight flying back until he landed hard and took a long, bouncing roll, coming to rest uncomfortably close to the edge of the fiery river. From somewhere Perrin let out a hoarse, angry yell, and Elinora saw him sprint to help Tristan up - he got up under his own power, however slowly, and Elinora let out a sigh of relief. The shuddering light of another hex wrapped around Korath, and he roared loudly enough to make the walls and ground quake. A crooked gash ran its way up one wall, and more rocks shook loose down around them.
"You will not…" Korath ground out, as another stone fell and split its way into the earth. Tomas had to dive away from it at the last moment; his reflexes seemingly exhausted by that effort, he went down to all fours and heaved in breaths. Markham, his own breathing labored, went to help him, or at least just collapse beside him so they wouldn't be alone. Only Elinora and Alistair were left before Korath now, standing amidst the falling dust and the hissing drops of the creature's blood. "You will not…."
There was something strangely familiar about his voice now, Elinora thought, as his unfinished protests filled the air. The more injuries he sustained and the weaker he became, the more his words began to rasp and shake. Something Mikarra had said once echoed in her mind: I remember. The voice -- too distinct. He was ill as a child and it damaged his throat. One of those sorts of sicknesses that always go through the poor parts of towns, too fast to stop....
Elinora thought of that distant past of his as she stared.
What else might you have become, Korath? she wondered, trying to see what little of his original form might remain. He'd burned and twisted too much of it away. Perhaps you wouldn't have been much. Perhaps with as harsh a beginning as you had, you just couldn't see any other options. Or perhaps you'd have found your true strength somewhere, put your cleverness to better use. What might you have given the world, instead of taking from it….
The beast above snapped his wings wide again, or as wide as he could manage now; blood poured from the deepest wounds. A blood mage ought to be able to draw mana from such a source, Elinora thought uneasily, but it was too uncontrolled now, and he didn't seem to have the presence of mind -- or the strength, after that smite -- to do anything about it.
Alistair glanced at Elinora, signaling to her: Move in closer. Carefully. Prepare for the strike….
"You can't take this from me," Korath raged, but the underlying tones spoke as much of desperation as anything else. Elinora steeled herself and stood tall to face him.
"It was never yours, Korath," she said, her sword glinting as she raised it high. "Never. You could have risen above what you were -- but instead you dug yourself down into darkness. And it ends here."
He roared so loudly in retaliation that she staggered, but she wrested control back, planted her feet beneath her, and thrust her sword forward just as Korath lunged. It split his skin and plunged deep within, as easily as if his flesh were already withering, and met what little remained of his heart.
He screamed and screamed, the sound indescribable, and the very air seemed to be splitting around her, let alone the cracking stone or the shaking of her own weary body. A spasmodic jerk of Korath's wings caught her across the shoulders and slammed her to the ground, knocking almost all the air from her lungs. For a sick moment, the whole world spun. She felt Alistair take her up in his arms, for suddenly she couldn't support her own weight; above them, Korath had reared back, Starfang still buried deep into his chest. Blood poured down from the wound, so much of it, the smell of it everywhere and the red haze rising….
Something unnatural was glowing in Korath's dying eyes.
Elinora pushed back at Alistair's shoulder even as he tried to carry her free. She still didn't have enough breath back for words, but she had to get his attention. Something was wrong. He only, however, shook his head.
"Elinora, we have to move," he said. He was facing away from Korath now and so he didn't see, but she did: saw the dripping blood haze into tendrils that moved seemingly of their own free will, swirling around Korath's failing form and then reaching out, digging into the stones, coiling grasping fingers toward her friends. Elinora made another, wordless protest, and then Alistair went suddenly still. She could feel horror and revulsion shuddering through his body, for he must have sensed it, too. The unmistakable tang of magic -- a last-gasp blood magic working, powered by Korath's dying rages -- was burning its way through all her senses.
And nothing, she thought sickly, could be put to more vicious use than a death sacrifice.
"Alistair," she whispered. He didn't even look at Korath. He just stared at her, eyes wide.
Elinora grabbed for Alistair's hand. They had to smite Korath again, she knew it; another hit potent enough would stop the spell, and with as much energy as he was pouring into it, such a blow would undoubtedly end him. And she could do it, or at least give Alistair what she had. She didn't want Alistair to ask, because he'd know she was lying about how much strength she had left -- it wasn't much, and if she gave the smite the energy it needed, she just might exhaust herself, too. But she didn't have much choice. The path was clear. "Alistair," she said again, angry at herself for how hard it was to make her fingers clasp his properly. How could she be this exhausted? There wasn't time. "We must--"
Then things happened very quickly.
Alistair got her as far away from Korath as he could, then set her down upon a stone, his hands cradling her face, his forehead resting against hers. For a moment she felt that bright unity rising between them. She poured everything she could into it; she was dizzy with the feel of it, as if their very souls had touched. He was trembling, and he was kissing her, and her head was ringing, filled with light -- and she didn't ever want to let go….
But then he was pulling back, his fingertips on her lips, holding her silent.
"It's all right, Elinora," he said, smiling just a little. "You've given more than enough."
The connection started to fade. Elinora reached out again, protesting, but he didn't let her take his hand this time. Instead he pressed it over his own heart, tightly enough that she thought she could feel the rapid beat of it even through his armor. He bent down to kiss her fingertips before he let her go.
"You keep saving everyone, time and again. And you've given me everything." He smiled once more, sweet and sad. "Time to repay the favor."
He got to his feet. Elinora tried to follow, but her shaky muscles didn't quite want to obey. Instead she cried out his name, but he didn't stop -- he was drawing his sword while he backed the first few paces away, as if he didn't want to stop looking at her. Maric's sword shone in the darkness, and Elinora thought she could see the faint glow of holy light already gathering around Alistair.
He whispered something she couldn't quite hear, but she knew what the words were, right down to the marrow of her bones.
Then he turned, and was running -- and the monstrous thing that had been Korath turned its bloody, dead eyes upon him -- and the haze of foul magic coiled and tightened around Alistair, heedless of Elinora's screams or Anders' and Allan's sudden, desperate spells; they didn't even cut through the gloom. Nothing did. It was all darkness.
And then there came a blinding, brilliant cascade of light.
Title: A Midwinter's Thaw, Chapter 77
Author(s): pagerunner_j and the phenomenal doot-doo-doo-doo-doo…mahna mahna…doot-doo-doo-doo.... w0rdinista
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. 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. Now there's no more time to waste, and the final battle rages -- and they must take down Korath once and for all, whatever it takes….
---
Countless scenarios had whirled through Elinora's mind over the days leading up to this confrontation. She'd considered victory, of course, and she'd considered defeat. She had even, in the small hours of one morning, slipped out of bed and down to her study, where she'd quickly drafted up a document naming Molly her temporary successor, until Fergus could appoint someone else (including Molly), should the worst befall her in battle.
But never had she considered the possibility that Korath's defeat might also mean their own demise. Now, as larger and larger chunks of rock fell down around them, the faintest edge of worry niggled into her mind: Korath could very easily take the lot of them with him if he fell.
She set her jaw and scowled, slashing Starfang forward and plunging it into Korath's ankle - Alistair was doing the same on the other side. She twisted the blade and pulled, hearing things tear and snap even as Korath bellowed and hissed above them. He was crippled and hexed, and between Anders' anti-magic spells, and her and Alistair's smiting attacks, he was starting to waver. Then, suddenly, a strange, rippling greenish light rippled forward, and Elinora yanked Tomas out of the way just before the glyph surrounded Korath, and he screamed again - Elinora realized almost immediately what had been done.
Though, when she glanced over her shoulder at Allan and Anders, she wasn't sure which of them had done it -- Allan, most likely, given the uncertain shape the glyph took, and yet she still had trouble wrapping her mind around that. But she wasn't going to waste precious time thinking about it. She turned to the rest of her men and bellowed above the noise:
"Strike! Hard as you can! Strike!"
And strike they did. Elinora wasn't sure just how much damage they inflicted on Korath - blood gushed from wounds, and leathery skin tore beneath their blades far easier than it had until then. They were causing damage, and he knew it.
But just as Elinora's own feelings were edging toward optimism, Korath began to beat his wings, despite the rips and tears in the flesh. It was still enough to swirl heat and filth around them in a blinding, choking cloud. Elinora lifted her shield against the foul debris and shouted again for them to strike, no matter what.
She and Alistair fought to clear the air, but they could hear the way Korath was screaming in pain - Yes, she fiercely thought - but then the glyph's dark light stuttered out, and before Anders (or Allan, for that matter) could cast any other hex or spell, before Elinora or Alistair could smite him back into submission, Korath gathered what mana he could, and suddenly the hot white light of a burst of chain-lighting lit the entire cavern in wild, flickering flashes, striking Nathaniel with deadly accuracy. Nathaniel's cry of pain was barely audible to Elinora above her own scream as he sunk to the ground, his bow falling from his hands. With a growled curse, she sunk her sword as deep as she could into Korath's flesh, not caring where she struck, only that she struck and struck hard. From the corner of her eye she saw Tristan and Anders helping Nathaniel up, and she felt a rush of relief to see he was only injured -- however badly.
Another down, she thought, looking around her, trying to gauge each fighter's condition. Alistair, Perrin, and Tristan seemed to be in the best shape. Tomas had been slowed by that knock on the head earlier, but seemed to be fighting through it - his reflexes weren't as sharp as she knew they could be, but he was still an able fighter, and still very much causing damage. Elinora knew her own magically-healed injuries were flaring up and slowing her down, no matter how ferociously she pushed through the pain. Alec was dead, and Nathaniel was injured beyond what even Anders could manage on the battlefield. Ranged fighters - save Anders himself - were gone. They all had to redouble their efforts and stay ahead of Korath.
And for the Maker's sake, we have to make sure he doesn't get the chance to gather any more mana, Elinora thought, waving Alistair closer. Korath was so large that a regular smite did very little damage, and adding to that was the fact that independently, she and Alistair were significantly weakened at this stage in the battle. She held out her hand; Alistair took it with a nod, knowing what to do next.
They were both so immersed in the battle, both of them completely focused on the fight before them, that it was remarkably easy to summon the power for the shared smite. At this point in such a battle, their will was primarily what was keeping them fighting at all. As such, grabbing hold of that will and focusing it, letting it grow sharp and hot, allowing it to flow into and through them both felt like the only right thing to do.
Elinora stepped even closer to Alistair and let her rising energy merge with his.
It was, as it had been in Korath's lab, a startlingly intimate experience, and Elinora could not quite keep a tiny portion of her mind from marveling at how this felt. For a moment, a tiny slice of time before allowing the smite to break free, Elinora felt as if she and Alistair were connected far beyond their joined hands. Then his fingers tightened around hers and she gasped as they both flung their arms out, the holy light filling the chamber and chasing away every last shadow, cleansing every last lingering shadow even as the attack slammed hard into Korath's body, hard enough to send him stumbling back. As he went, his wings flailed, slamming hard into the walls and ceiling, making even more debris fall around them; one deadly-sharp stalactite fell and landed in front of them, far too close for comfort.
"We need to end this soon!" Alistair yelled above the din. Elinora nodded once.
"Couldn't agree more," she said raising her sword. "Tristan!" she called out to the knight, before gesturing to Korath's exposed belly. Tristan's greatsword was the only one of their weapons that could pierce Korath's hide deeply enough to deal a wound serious enough that the rest of them could capitalize on.
The knight read Elinora's gestures clearly and charged forward while Korath was still dazed from the smite, a mighty battle cry roaring from his lips. The other fighters advanced as well, but it was Tristan's sword that plunged deep into Korath's belly. The blood-mage screamed, swatting at Tristan - hard enough to send the knight flying back until he landed hard and took a long, bouncing roll, coming to rest uncomfortably close to the edge of the fiery river. From somewhere Perrin let out a hoarse, angry yell, and Elinora saw him sprint to help Tristan up - he got up under his own power, however slowly, and Elinora let out a sigh of relief. The shuddering light of another hex wrapped around Korath, and he roared loudly enough to make the walls and ground quake. A crooked gash ran its way up one wall, and more rocks shook loose down around them.
"You will not…" Korath ground out, as another stone fell and split its way into the earth. Tomas had to dive away from it at the last moment; his reflexes seemingly exhausted by that effort, he went down to all fours and heaved in breaths. Markham, his own breathing labored, went to help him, or at least just collapse beside him so they wouldn't be alone. Only Elinora and Alistair were left before Korath now, standing amidst the falling dust and the hissing drops of the creature's blood. "You will not…."
There was something strangely familiar about his voice now, Elinora thought, as his unfinished protests filled the air. The more injuries he sustained and the weaker he became, the more his words began to rasp and shake. Something Mikarra had said once echoed in her mind: I remember. The voice -- too distinct. He was ill as a child and it damaged his throat. One of those sorts of sicknesses that always go through the poor parts of towns, too fast to stop....
Elinora thought of that distant past of his as she stared.
What else might you have become, Korath? she wondered, trying to see what little of his original form might remain. He'd burned and twisted too much of it away. Perhaps you wouldn't have been much. Perhaps with as harsh a beginning as you had, you just couldn't see any other options. Or perhaps you'd have found your true strength somewhere, put your cleverness to better use. What might you have given the world, instead of taking from it….
The beast above snapped his wings wide again, or as wide as he could manage now; blood poured from the deepest wounds. A blood mage ought to be able to draw mana from such a source, Elinora thought uneasily, but it was too uncontrolled now, and he didn't seem to have the presence of mind -- or the strength, after that smite -- to do anything about it.
Alistair glanced at Elinora, signaling to her: Move in closer. Carefully. Prepare for the strike….
"You can't take this from me," Korath raged, but the underlying tones spoke as much of desperation as anything else. Elinora steeled herself and stood tall to face him.
"It was never yours, Korath," she said, her sword glinting as she raised it high. "Never. You could have risen above what you were -- but instead you dug yourself down into darkness. And it ends here."
He roared so loudly in retaliation that she staggered, but she wrested control back, planted her feet beneath her, and thrust her sword forward just as Korath lunged. It split his skin and plunged deep within, as easily as if his flesh were already withering, and met what little remained of his heart.
He screamed and screamed, the sound indescribable, and the very air seemed to be splitting around her, let alone the cracking stone or the shaking of her own weary body. A spasmodic jerk of Korath's wings caught her across the shoulders and slammed her to the ground, knocking almost all the air from her lungs. For a sick moment, the whole world spun. She felt Alistair take her up in his arms, for suddenly she couldn't support her own weight; above them, Korath had reared back, Starfang still buried deep into his chest. Blood poured down from the wound, so much of it, the smell of it everywhere and the red haze rising….
Something unnatural was glowing in Korath's dying eyes.
Elinora pushed back at Alistair's shoulder even as he tried to carry her free. She still didn't have enough breath back for words, but she had to get his attention. Something was wrong. He only, however, shook his head.
"Elinora, we have to move," he said. He was facing away from Korath now and so he didn't see, but she did: saw the dripping blood haze into tendrils that moved seemingly of their own free will, swirling around Korath's failing form and then reaching out, digging into the stones, coiling grasping fingers toward her friends. Elinora made another, wordless protest, and then Alistair went suddenly still. She could feel horror and revulsion shuddering through his body, for he must have sensed it, too. The unmistakable tang of magic -- a last-gasp blood magic working, powered by Korath's dying rages -- was burning its way through all her senses.
And nothing, she thought sickly, could be put to more vicious use than a death sacrifice.
"Alistair," she whispered. He didn't even look at Korath. He just stared at her, eyes wide.
Elinora grabbed for Alistair's hand. They had to smite Korath again, she knew it; another hit potent enough would stop the spell, and with as much energy as he was pouring into it, such a blow would undoubtedly end him. And she could do it, or at least give Alistair what she had. She didn't want Alistair to ask, because he'd know she was lying about how much strength she had left -- it wasn't much, and if she gave the smite the energy it needed, she just might exhaust herself, too. But she didn't have much choice. The path was clear. "Alistair," she said again, angry at herself for how hard it was to make her fingers clasp his properly. How could she be this exhausted? There wasn't time. "We must--"
Then things happened very quickly.
Alistair got her as far away from Korath as he could, then set her down upon a stone, his hands cradling her face, his forehead resting against hers. For a moment she felt that bright unity rising between them. She poured everything she could into it; she was dizzy with the feel of it, as if their very souls had touched. He was trembling, and he was kissing her, and her head was ringing, filled with light -- and she didn't ever want to let go….
But then he was pulling back, his fingertips on her lips, holding her silent.
"It's all right, Elinora," he said, smiling just a little. "You've given more than enough."
The connection started to fade. Elinora reached out again, protesting, but he didn't let her take his hand this time. Instead he pressed it over his own heart, tightly enough that she thought she could feel the rapid beat of it even through his armor. He bent down to kiss her fingertips before he let her go.
"You keep saving everyone, time and again. And you've given me everything." He smiled once more, sweet and sad. "Time to repay the favor."
He got to his feet. Elinora tried to follow, but her shaky muscles didn't quite want to obey. Instead she cried out his name, but he didn't stop -- he was drawing his sword while he backed the first few paces away, as if he didn't want to stop looking at her. Maric's sword shone in the darkness, and Elinora thought she could see the faint glow of holy light already gathering around Alistair.
He whispered something she couldn't quite hear, but she knew what the words were, right down to the marrow of her bones.
Then he turned, and was running -- and the monstrous thing that had been Korath turned its bloody, dead eyes upon him -- and the haze of foul magic coiled and tightened around Alistair, heedless of Elinora's screams or Anders' and Allan's sudden, desperate spells; they didn't even cut through the gloom. Nothing did. It was all darkness.
And then there came a blinding, brilliant cascade of light.