Aedan Of Highever

by Milton Garby

  As Aedand finally gazed upon the behemoth he beheld in both awe and revilement the black master of the darkspawn horde. It looked like a dragon but it scales looked like there was carrion maggots seeping out, devouring the rotting flesh beneath. Its jaws were filled with long, sword-like teeth that were riddled with rot and decay, with saliva and pus secreting out of its gums. Its wings were massive tattered ruins of shredded flesh and membrane that overshadowed all life before it. Even in their ruined state, those terrible wings beat the air with such terrible force that they kicked up a gale that could uproot trees. The immense reptilian claws pierced and ripped apart the very stone upon which it stood. The very weight of this apex of evil was crushing the stone beneath it into gravel. The dragon spewed great black fire from its gullet that threatened to burn the world. Amongst the earsplitting screams and devastating roars, Aedan's mind was pierced by the beautifully demonic voice. It wormed into Aedan's skull with agonizing elegance and its words became clear as the dawn. The voice of the Archdemon was in his mind.

  "FOOLISH MORTALS!"The fell creature seemed to bellow dark, thunderous melody. "I AM…URTHEMIAL! THE GOD OF BEAUTY! BASK IN MY GLORY AND DESPAIR!"

  Aedan had read about Urthemiel. Statues, temples of beauty and even entire holidays were made in his dedication. This is what had become of such a godlike being upon being discovered by the darkspawn? Aedan knelt, revered and feared no gods! And now he would finally fulfill his lifelong dream of killing one! Only question was…. "How the fuck do you kill something like this!?"

  Urthemiel breathed in deep and shot balls of putrid black flame from his rotting maw down upon his enemies. Aedan and his companions dodged behind the stone parapets for cover. The poor souls that didn't find cover were either incinerated into ash or drowned in their own blood when they breathed in the deathly fumes of smoke from the black fire. Aedan looked across the way and saw Morrigan get cut from behind by a Hurlock! "MORRIGAAAN!" Within a heartbeat a charged over to the Hurlock that dared to harm to harm Morrigan and sliced him in half! Aedan swooped up Morrigan in his arms and ran her over to safety, ignoring the searing pain of the black fire that singed his exposed flesh. "Wynne! Heal her!" Wynne tapped into the Fade and used her magic to disinfect and close the wound on Morrigan's back.

  Seeing his love be harmed in such a way and being burned by the unholy flames spewed from Urthemiel's vile body reminded Aedan of something Argyle once told him many years ago. The way of the warrior is found in death. He who embraces this truth is to be feared more than cruelest of tyrants, and he who runs from it is a coward. When death is certain the warrior is not deterred by pain or the obstacles before him. He runs out to meet it with fearsome resolution and welcomes his glorious end. Aedan was a Berserker with unyielding rage. A Reaver who consumed the blood of dragons and fed on the flesh of his enemy. And he was a son of Highever. He would stand before his enemy now.

  In one brief moment of concentration, Aedan gathered the strength he needed. All the rage that he had swimming within him, the death and pain that consumed this whole city. All of it made him stronger! Aedan gripped Starfang in his fist and roared a vicious war cry to match the Archdemons, announcing his presence to all that stood before him. Aedan charged forward without care or fear for his life, cutting down everything in his way. The searing agony of the black flames burning his flesh didn't matter, the corrupted blades that glanced of his body held no meaning. All that mattered to him was reaching his objective, Urthemiel!

  ~XoXoXoXo~

  Alistair and the others had just reunited with one another at the base of Fort Drakon. It was a confirmed fact that the Archdemon had been grounded on the top of its highest tower. Zevran and Leliana succeeded in securing the Alienage and got Shianni and her people to safety, followed quickly by Mithra and Lanaya. Oghren and his warriors of Orzammar hammered the darkspawn outside the fort like an egg on an anvil. Ignoring fatigue, pain and exhaustion the comrades ran as fast as their tired bodies could carry them, cutting down and smashing through any adversary mad or foolish enough to stand in their way.

  At last they reached the top of the tower, they could only hope that they weren't too late to assist their friends. As they burst past the doors all of them were stunned in horror at the sight of the Archdemon, and the sight of Aedan charging the massive, winged serpent like a man possessed. Aedan's body was practically an open wound. His armor rent with pieces ripped off it. His flesh and hair were aflame with black fire, and his body riddled with foul arrows.

  Aedan's companions charged into the fray in an attempt to aid their leader, but the Darkspawn Generals stood in their path. Urthemiel engulfed Aedan in a blanket of jet black fire as hot as hell that was meant to be the end of the miserable Warden. The blackness engulfed Aedan's whole being, it felt as if he'd been shoved into a furnace! He could feel his skin burn and melt off his bones, but thankfully he was still a Reaver! The dragon blood coursed through his veins, the entropic energies of the death surrounding him and his own ungodly pain healed his body and made him stronger! Summoning every ounce of his willpower and rage, he charged through the searing black furnace to cut down his enemy!

  Urthemiel pulled back his massive rotting head on his serpentine neck and snapped forward to devour the miserable little Warden! His teeth coated in thick, vile saliva and pus. His forked tongue anticipating the taste of the human's charred flesh!

  Just like in his battle with Flemeth and the High Dragon at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, the most opportune moment to slay a dragon was when it attacked. The dragon's head bared down on Aedan in a snake-like snap, Aedan could actually feel and smell the damned things breath on his face! At the last second, Aedan slid beneath the massive set of jaws and teeth, raising Starfang above his head. Starfang sliced through the soft flesh of Urthemiel's neck, the momentum of his attack cutting him against the edge of the sword. A rain of black, hot, rancid ichor down on Aedan's body as he ducked out from beneath Urthemiel gargantuan neck. Urthemiel, weakly, vainly, attempted to raise his massive head on his eviscerated neck to attack. Every fiber in Aedan's being begged him to stop, his whole body was in horrible pain, but his spirit cried "NEVER!" In one last attack, Aedan charged his weakened nemesis. And with one last fearsome worry, Aedan plunged Starfang into Urthemiel's heinous, rotted head.

  Aedan's world erupted into a flash of blinding white light. Was this the end? Was he about to die? Still he held his sword firmly in place. He would not falter now!

  The others didn't know what they were seeing. No one had ever seen such a sight in four hundred years. That darkspawn that surrounded them and the tower immediately broke off their attack and fled like cowards. From the column of light that enveloped the Warden and the Archdemon suddenly exploded in a corona of awesome energy. When the wave of energy past, the Archdemon laid dead, and Aedan stood with his sword still in Urthemiel's skull.

  Something was wrong. There was no life in Aedan's eyes. The Warden dropped to the ground like a felled tree. All of his compatriots ran to him in a frantic rush of horror. Morrigan was the most horrified. She placed Aedan's head he lap sobbing his name. "Aedan! Aedan! Please!" This couldn't be happening! This wasn't supposed to happen! The ritual was supposed to save him! Suddenly, felt the faintest ounce of life coming from Aedan's body. The two of them were still connected from the ring that she bequeathed to him. Aedan's hand firmly gripped Morrigan's soft hand as gasp for air erupted from his mouth, he was breathing! He was alive! Morrigan's overwhelming sense of joy was immediately quashed by a smothering feeling of dread and heartbreak as she remembered her promise. The Archdemon was slain and the Warden was alive. Her task was done. She turned to leave as the others tried to carry their severely injured hero to safety. Aedan vainly tried to hold on to her, but it was for naught. Wiping away tears of regret, Morrigan assumed the form of a bird and flew off into the sunset.

  And thus it was over. The Blight had been cut down before it fully bloomed. Aedan, with the assistance of his followers, had accomplished the impossi
ble. This Blight would go down in history as the most short-lived in history, and would forever resonate with the Warden's name and cement Ferelden's reputation for being a fierce, independent nation that can never truly be conquered by any outside force. Neither, emperors, magisters or even Archdemons can bring low the fierce pride and unconquerable determination of the Fereldan dog-lords.

  The War End & A Legend Begins

  Aedan's world was completely black. He swam through ocean of utter shadow that consumed his as being he tranquilly fell through it depths. Time seemed to have no meaning, the urge to act was absent. Aedan was perfect content to let his mind drift in the warm, endless darkness and let his battered body rest.

  When was the last time he ever knew such peace? Never.

  Where was he? He didn't care.

  How did he get here? It didn't matter.

  The warm tranquility shattered when Aedan's mind was flooded with memory and realization of what he had so recently done! Denerim burning. Fighting the Archdemon….Morrigan. Aedan's eyes shot open and he sat up in the bed he was laying on. "MORRIGAN!" Aedan's lungs felt like they had been smashed then sewn together, his vision was completely blurred and could see only smudged shadows, every bone and muscle in his body felt like someone smashed him with a hammers and set him on fire. He laid his body back down on what felt like a divinely soft bed and tried to get a sense what was going on around him.

  He heard a doorway creak open and his vision made out a tall, familiar and definitely female silhouette. As he tried to focus his blurred eye sight. In his effort he was able to make out two familiar, beautiful golden eyes. "M-Mo Siule Orga Whurnin?"

  "Nay, Mo dearthaire." Answered a beautiful, foreign but familiar voice. It filled Aedan with happy nostalgia and shattered hope.

  "S-Siobahn? W-what are you doing here? Where are my friends? Where am I?" Aedan struggled to get back up.

  "Be still!" The Avvar woman ordered as she pushed Aedan back onto the bed. "If you move about too much you'll undo yer bandages and all the work Wynne and I put into healing you will be for naught."

  "What has happened?" Aedan asked again.

  Siobahn exhaustedly sat herself down. "Well, to begin with," she chuckled. "You only slew an Old God in sinlge combat! Chieftian Maferath and many of our warriors were fighting at the top of the tower and saw you charge down the Archdemon, all covered in black flames and screaming like an angry god!" Siobahn's laugh was loud and hearty for a woman. "Our warriors will tell tales of this for generations!"

  "What happened after that?" Aedan chuckled as he remembered that terrible fight with the Archdemon and the memory of the agonizing pain.

  "Well, obviously you were gravely injured." The woman shaman answered gravely. "While your battle with the Archdemon was epic, it was also foolish and almost cost you your life. I was summoned to help heal you. Wynne is a great mage, but she is old and can only do so much when there are others who need healing. You flesh was like an over cooked chicken and crisp as a burnt tree. But thankfully, your Reaver abilities have helped your healing process. Hmmm, probably the only upside of being in a city where many people perished."

  "And my companions?" Aedan didn't know who even survived the encounter with Urthemiel.

  "Alive and well, Mo Dearthaire." Siobahn answered smiling. "This new Lowland king of yours is overseeing the relief effort for your people and Wynne is assisting in healing the injured. Your pet dwarf has been telling everyone about how you two ripped the Archdemon's wings of its body with your bare hands. Every one of your companions is helping in any way they can, and will be delighted to know you're awake." Siobahn's eyes flashed with realization. "Wait here. Your king wanted me to get him as soon as you were awake."

  Siobahn trotted out of the room and came back a few minutes later with Alistair close behind. Alistair wasn't wearing any armor but the simple finery of royalty and had a look of complete relief on his face. "Oh, thank the Maker!" The king almost cried. "You're alive! We were all so worried, we actually thought you were going to die. Everyone's been waiting to hear if you'd make it."

  "Everyone? What…what about Morrigan?" Aedan's voice was full of doomed hope.

  "I am sorry, Aedan. But there has been no sighting or sign of her since the Archdemon fell." Alistair answered sorrowfully. "And I'm afraid there is more disconcerting news. It seems the Wardens are less than ecstatic about your victory than most would think."

  "Apparently they would rather question why you are still alive than celebrate this earth shattering victory." Siobahn commented.

  "Could Riordan have been wrong?" Alistair inquired. "How are you still alive?"

  This would be an issue. The Wardens would hound Aedan for answers for his continued existence disproved the utmost importance of the Order of The Grey. But this was a matter for another time. "I'm alive thanks to two people. Leandra Hawke, a mother whose love brought me the means of becoming a Reaver, otherwise I'd have been dead many times over. And Morrigan, it's only because of her that I'm still breathing."

  "Really?" Alistair was almost stunned. "I had no idea. She disappeared so quickly, do you know where she went?"

  Aedan laid trying to ignore the pain in his body, and his heart. "I don't know. But I will find her again. Someday. I swear I will."

  "Well, before you do a Witch Hunt, I suggest you first get better. And quickly." Alistair urged. "There's going to be a large celebration as soon as the rubble has been cleared. And the whole nation wants to see its savior."

  "And speaking of healing, I need you to leave, Alistair. So that I may properly tend to Aedan's injuries." Siobahn requested. "I doubt they're any easier to look at." An ill look washed over Alistair's face and he quickly took his leave.

  Seeing the look on Alistair's face made Aedan feel a touch of dread about what his injuries were like. With his vision returning to his eyes, Aedan looked at a mirror across the room and was put-off by his appearance. His eyes were dark and sullen, like he had been gravely ill and starving for a time. Aedan's once thick, neck-long, dark mane was practically burned off his head. Burnt patches of hair still remained, revealing his fire-kissed scalp beneath. Aedan laid back and allowed Siobahn perform her healing arts. She peeled back the soiled bandages and revealed the burnt, moist skin that clung to it. Aedan couldn't take his eyes off his own ruined flesh, had he not been a Reaver he'd probably be in nightmarish agony.

  Siobahn looked down on her adopted brother and couldn't help but feel a great deal of pity. For such a mighty warrior to be brought down so low after such an epic victory was appalling to her. He should have died gloriously in battle instead of having to suffer this indignity.

  "Where is my sword?" Aedan asked longingly breaking his silence. He hadn't been without a weapon or armor for such a long period in a long time, and now he felt…naked. Vulnerable.

  Siobahn knew the purpose behind Aedan's question. "I'm sorry, Mo Dearthaire, but it's gone. Destroyed."

  "Destroyed? How?" Aedan actually didn't want to believe that.

  "When your companions carried you off to safety, Maferath tried to fetch your sword from the Archdemon's skull. But the instant he touched it, the sword crumbled into ash." Siobahn's tone was sympathetic. She gave him the meteor from which that sword was forged, and she knew what a magnificent blade it was.

  "I am going to miss that sword." Aedan said mournfully. He was going to miss it. Suddenly he felt like he was weaker.

  "The gods sent the starmetal so that you may perform a great task, Mo Dearthaire." Siobahn counseled. "And it slew an Archdemon. What greater task is there than that?"

  Aedan smiled even though it hurt. Siobahn always gave the best council. It was why should make a great shaman when her time came. He was going to miss her and her people when they left back to their home in the Frostbacks.

  She could see that Aedan was full of negative emotions so Siobahn decided to try and cheer him up with a smile returning to her lips "The people of this land of all races are already making songs and sto
ries of your legend."

  Aedan gave her a wry grin. "Oh, really?"

  "Aye, they are already singing of your great prowess as a warrior, and many are under the belief that you are invincible. That you can't be killed in battle!"

  That's unlikely, Aedan thought to himself. "If I were invincible I wouldn't need this much healing."

  "Ah, don't be like that, Mo Dearthaire." Siobhan chided. "You are the only warrior in all of existence to have slain a living god and live! The glory that will be heaped upon your name and the legends told of you will last for a thousand years!"

  Aedan tried not to let the idea of glory and a resonating name get to his head. That was what probably led to Loghain's personal downfall. Even so, he could not dismiss the effect his reputation have on the people around him

  Siobahn smiled warmly at the handsome, injured Alamarii on the bed. "Hah. I swear that if I fancied men, I'd have fallen in love with you when we first met."

  "Alas, Siobahn, it wasn't meant to be." Aedan laughed. "You have your…prefrences and I….I have Morrigan."

  "She must be quite the woman for you to love her so dearly."

  "There is no other woman like her." Aedan answered with a sad smile. He tried to keep his mind off of her. "Siobahn, how well am I healing?"

  "Well, enough considering how badly injured you were when Wynne and I first started." Siobahn answered. "Being bathed in the fire of an Archdemon isn't exactly good for the skin. But with continued treatment and lots of rest you should be on the mend soon enough."

  "That isn't good enough, Siobahn." Aedan informed gravely. "I don't have the time to wait around to be healed. This victory may be the greatest in my nation's history, but now my country is weaker than it has ever been in our whole history. Orlais could still invade us in our weakened state, the darkspawn still linger, and there are those who will challenge Alistair's claim on the throne. My people will be looking to Alistair to lead them, but they'll be looking to me to protect them. I can't do that sitting in a bed waiting for my damned wounds to heal."