A soft smile, the first she felt since entering the tower, lifted up her lips. Patting Alistair on the shoulder, she sighed, "I will take it under advisement, for now we should return to Gregoir before he sends his templars in."
"Good point," Alistair nodded his head. "Biting the hand that saved their asses sounds like the templars. I'll slip past the cavalcade and warn 'em not to stab first."
He began to move towards the room filled with the putrid smell of a dead arcane horror when Lana snagged his hand. She barely clung to it, only a whisper of her fingers knotting through his as she breathed to him, "Thanks for worrying, Ali."
"Anytime, Lanny," his face lit up, the smile stretching his cheeks wide and then he slipped away.
Lana's smile melted in his wake as if Alistair took the last shreds of joy with him. She had a hundred questions waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and the need for mages fast. Redcliffe waited for them. Would any be ready in time to help? Maker, what if she spent too much time in here, in the fade, and Conner had...?
"What was said earlier," Cullen's gruff voice spoke from the corner he'd sidled into. It hurt her ears to hear it so much raspier from the sweet silk she remembered. "When I...thought you were a trick of the blood mages. It was not meant to be, I was under the delusion of, I should not have..."
"Forget it," she said, all emotion burned from her body. "I have. Come, we should all return to Gregoir. There's nothing left for us here."
Blood gurgled out of her mouth spraying across the dust whipping through the desolate land. Nothing of the green grass, the trees, the stolen rooms, or the lake remained. It was broken, beaten down, shattered the same way she had to crack open her heart and pour every despair into it. Cold. Beyond cold. This was the final chill, the one as death drew upon its victim, icy fingers clawing up the body.
"Look at what you've done!" the demon hissed. It'd been a spirit once, a powerful one of love, but Lana or something else had warped it from the unconditional support to an envious and controlling demon. A small part of her almost felt sorry for it, clinging to what it needed just as the others did -- the rest of her wanted to see it destroyed with every inch of her being.
Lana tried to lift her head, but there was nothing left inside of her. All she could do was roll her eyes towards the unending march of demons breaking through this one's territory, hungering for the mortal in their midst.
"I could have kept you safe, kept you here with me. But now," the spirit drifted in and out of their dimension, only the flicker of light betraying it, "now you will die."
She screwed up her eyes, shutting them against the dirt and dust blowing across the stripped landscape. As desolate as the areas the blight touched, only rot and decay took hold - every inch of life drained away. Her throat was raw from dust and Lana swallowed to try and clear it out. When she opened her lips, a cough echoed up her throat, spraying more blood across the dirt. "I would rather face death and try, than do nothing and live in servitude for eternity."
"So be it," the spirit/demon huffed. It could have finished her off, physically attacked the way the coming spiders would, but perhaps something of what it once was remained. Maybe demons could return to their previous form after all. Drawing back its tendrils, it drove a jagged end through the air. Green light poured out of the gap - strong enough to sear Lana's eyes. She hissed from it, but knew in her heart this was it. This was her final chance, the last hope.
Fading back to where it came, the spirit left her alone. With her ear pressed to the ground, Lana heard the chatter of hundreds of spiders racing up the mountaintop, pinchers thrashing to chew her apart. Willing whatever energy inside of her she could, Lana jammed a hand into the dirt and dug. Her body shifted an inch closer to the green gap in the air. Too bad it remained a good three feet away. Tears sprung behind her eyes from the pain and pressure as she gritted every bone in her body to obey, every muscle to answer her call. Even knowing there was no way she'd made it before the spiders reached her, she wasn't going to give up. Snapping her arm forward, she snagged the ground and inched closer. Two down, only another thirty three left to go.
A cry echoed from the bottom of the hill. Lana couldn't see it, but she heard Wynne shout through the air, "I have them, dear. Go and find your answers!" The noise of blade shattering through spider chitin answered in kind as the spirit took on the demons for her.
Nathaniel's cries of, "For the Warden Commander" echoed from the other side, her best warden not about to abandon her now.
Ignoring unimaginable pain chewing through her body and the chill deadening her limbs, Lana reached further and further. "I am not alone," she prayed. "Even as I stumble on the path..." Her teeth gritted as debris buffeted through the winds, blinding her. It didn't matter, she didn't need her eyes to know the gap remained - its power rippling through the air like the coming of a storm. Digging deep, Lana yanked her body forward, "...with my eyes closed, yet I see the Light is here."
Chittering erupted beside her. Instinctively she rolled, as if she had any strength inside of her to attack the spider, when its mandibles cracked into the arm of Jowan. He sneered but didn't cry in pain, only watched the spider attempting to dissolve his robe with poison. "What are you waiting for? This is already your biggest regret. You can't give me anymore. Get going."
Nodding, she waved her fingers near the green light. At less than an inch away, all she had to do was-was, what? What lay beyond it for her? Freedom? Or another trap? Did she have a choice either way? Dropping her head down, Lana whispered the end of the prayer - the one that'd trailed her for years. "Draw your last breath, my friends. Cross the veil, and the fade, and all the stars in the sky. Rest at the Maker's right hand," she shuddered, the breath in her chest knocking wildly as she reached a hand into the green light. "And be forgiven."
Behind her, the sounds of battle faded away, the wind, every noise save the rapid pounding of her heart growing sluggish as it fought against the frozen chill. She fell into the endless expanse of nothing, the air in her lungs pounded out of her body. Her spark of life leeched out of her toes, her legs, her stomach, chest, and shoulders, rising to leave the broken body, until it landed at the tips of her fingertips. There it hung, vibrating as if only an errant breeze would knock it loose, ending her once and for all. Lana zeroed in on it, knowing but not seeing the final vestiges of her life glowing at the tips.
She watched her hands limply extended away from her body, as if she was flying free through the air. How easy it would be to let go, to free herself from the pain, the misery, the eternal despair trailing her every step. All she had to do was wave her fingers and release her soul back across the veil. So simple, anyone could do it, and yet... Lana glared at her hands shifting her willpower into the only spell she knew etched through her soul, the ice that called to her, the chill that trailed her since she was a child. Blocks of ice coated her hands, keeping the life trapped upon her fingers. She wasn't going down without a fight, not even against herself. Swallowing in the airless void, Lana shut her eyes tight.
Then a hand grabbed onto hers. The ice shattered away, warmth seeping into her skin - not just her hand but all of it, her dead limbs rising from the grave, air rushing into her straining lungs. Light pierced through the slit of her eyes, and carefully Lana raised her eyelids. Blinded by the sear against her pupils, her eyes watered, rendering whatever held her body in a strange wash of tears. A bloody thumb wiped the tears off her frozen cheek and he came into focus.
"Ali..." Lana coughed, her voice dust, "Alis-" Willing any saliva to coat down her throat, she finally finished, "Alistair?"
It was him, looking a mess with reddened eyes and someone's blood splattered across his face, but he cracked a massive smile and then scooped her unresponsive body tight to his. "Lanny!" he cried, jiggling her in his arms, "Lanny, I...Maker, you're here. You're...it's really, you, and all of... Oh, right." Alistair raised his voice and shouted through the echoing hall, "She's awake! She's here, she's...!" Through his own sho
ck and tears, he caught her struggle to swallow the dust down her throat and swung around a water skin.
Lana could barely lift her hand to catch it, so he uncorked it and dribbled half the contents into her gaping mouth. Sweet Maker, it was as if she hadn't tasted a drop of water in months, the cool liquid knocking spiderwebs free. "Alistair?" she tried again, the word coming freely now, "What are you... Is this a trick? A trap of the fade again?"
"I have no idea. I don't think so," his eyes darted around the room.
"Tell me something, something I wouldn't know."
He held onto her tight, one arm wrapped around her back while the other gripped onto her hand - the warmth spreading from their joined fingers through her body. His adam's apple drifted higher as he thought, "Uh, Teagan's going bald. He wears this incredibly stupid hat to try and cover it up, but we all know. I keep telling him it'd be better if he just shaved it all off but..."
"Andraste's ass dimples," Lana cried, her fingers digging into his cheeks, feeling the muscles moving below, "It is you! I, I'm...where am I?"
"The Anderfels," he shrugged, "in some grey warden fortress thing. We're not 100% certain what for, but..."
She did it. Maker's breath, she was out, she was free of the fade. There wasn't enough moisture in her body for the tears to roll free, but Lana felt them in her soul, her lips stretching a smile - muscles straining from the lack of movement, the skin stinging. Free. After so long and...
"Ali," she asked, her hand digging into his as her muscles returned to her, "how long was I in the fade?"
He tried to pull her tighter, but her weight finally won out, and she slipped from his grasp, her toes landing against the ground. Pain knocked up her bones and into the knees, but she was standing - she had help, but she was standing. "Lanny, it...it was two years."
"Two years!" No, it couldn't have been that long. Not... She'd feared a year at most, twelve months of her life lost. She could fight to get a year back, but two...?
"Hey, hey, Lanny. It's gonna be..." Alistair swallowed whatever he was going to say and jerked his chin away from her out into the great hall. At first she didn't follow, her mind stewing at her own misfortune, her failure to figure out what was happening to her and break free. What life could wait for her after two years? She'd wasted so much time already, and now...
A soft gasp rattled through the hall and she lifted her weary head.Maker's breath, Lana's bottom lip wobbled, her free hand cupping over her mouth in shock. The sword clattered from Cullen's slack fingers. He didn't even flinch at the noise, his eyes frozen upon her. How? How was he standing there? How was he...? She didn't realize she moved towards him until her knee gave out, sending Lana's unused body towards the floor. Alistair struggled to keep her up by his grip on her hand, but there was no fighting it. She sank to her knees, both of her arms falling to the sides, unable to lift her up. Cullen plummeted to his own knees and slid across the floor to her, his hands curling around her face, fingers pressing into her cold cheeks warming with the flush of joy.
"Holy Andraste, I, thank you. Maker, thank You for bringing her back. I...I cannot, thank you. I needed to, you are..." Tears gushed from his eyes, a waterfall cascading off those honey eyes she'd yearned to gaze into. And now she could. They were here. He was here.
Lana blinked, finding her own eyes answering his in kind, the tears almost blindingly painful from all the salt in her body. But she didn't care, barely noticed it as her hands lifted to hold his shoulders, and then up to wipe across his stained cheeks. "That's what I was going to say," she whispered, unable to pull her eyes away from his. Whatever grace of the Maker brought him here, back into her life, she was grateful from the bottom of her heart.
"Lana, I," Cullen swallowed, his own thumbs trying to stem her happy tears, "I feared that you'd, that I'd..."
She wanted to apologize for everything she put him through, for staying behind, for not being enough. Sliding closer to him, Lana placed her forehead against Cullen's, the heat of his body warming her to the core. With her eyes screwed tight, she whispered her soul to him, "Cullen, I lo-"
A whomp reverberated from behind her, and Lana spun around on her knees to see Alistair prostrated across the ground, his eyes shut tight. With her hands as leverage, Lana scooted across the stone floor to him, crying his name and getting no response. His head lay at a strange angle to his neck, but his chest continued to raise up and down struggling for breath. "What's happened? What...?" She spotted blood dashed across his shoulder, the shirt ripped in response to a wound.
"There was a fight with a qunari," Cullen explained, waving towards the body of one crumpled below some exploded rocks.
"Shit!" Lana lifted one of Alistair's eyelids, getting the response she expected but not the one she wanted. "Poison, they're always using poison. I have to get it out of him, but..." She tried to dip into the veil, to part it, but her body was drained, not even a drop of mana remaining. "Something's wrong, I can't, I can't touch the fade. I, damn it, I can't fix this!" Panic grabbed onto her frayed nerves, sundering them from joy to despair in an instant. No, not now. Not like this. There had to be something she could do; a mixture, a compound, a bloody health poultice if it came to it. Lana ran her fingers over Alistair's pouches looking for anything, when Cullen's stiff hand landed upon her shoulder.
He coughed for a moment, then in a broken voice said, "There's lyrium in my veins."
"What?" Lana whipped back at him, but his head lolled down, his face hidden from her. "Why is there lyrium...?"
"Take it, use it to heal him."
"Cullen, no, that's-it's incredibly painful," she said, the panic rising inside of her, "dangerous. Beyond. I-I can't."
A broken smile twisted up his lips and he rolled his head, "Save him. I will endure."
She didn't want to, to never, but there was no other choice. Waving one hand over Alistair's shoulders, Lana ordered him, "Don't you dare die on me." She reached behind to grip onto Cullen's hand to begin the transfer, when she rubbed her thumb over the back of it to add, "And don't you die either."
Rolling her eyes back, Lana tugged upon the lyrium floating inside Cullen's veins rich with the raw power of the fade she could tap and alter into whatever she wanted. He let down his defenses, giving her full access as no right thinking templar ever would. As the first drops leeched from him, his hand clamped tighter around hers, but he didn't cry out, only groaned low in his throat. Maker, it bit deep into her to have to hurt him, but she didn't have time to worry about that. Reaching for that healer inside of her, the one that cared too much at times, she traced across Alistair's clammy skin. Cullen's body stiffened behind her as she drained more and more of the lyrium from him, she had to clear the poison, at least enough to ensure they didn't need to do it again. But, Maker, it had to be agony for him to have it boiled free so fast. Pressing one last spell against Alistair, Lana released her magic hold on Cullen - leaving a few drops in his veins. Consciousness snapped back into Alistair, his eyes springing wide awake, and he rolled to his side. The retching began immediately, all the poison purging from his shaking body. Lana rubbed her hand against his back, trying to soothe him without any magic, while she clung tight to Cullen's hand. "I have you," she whispered to the both of them.
Chapter Thirty-One
Stayed Safe
9:44 Anderfels
Splashing echoed off the few trees providing a modicum of modesty. The king lay stretched out upon his bedroll, his skin clammy and yellow but looking far better than he had inside the fortress. He had explicit orders to remain seated at all times or... Neither of them knew what came after the or, but they didn't want to ask either.
Cullen sat perched upon the ground, his back turned to the woman trying to bathe two years worth of the fade off her skin. He kept close to hear her in case she slipped or needed help, and because she didn't want to be alone. They set up the camp near the edge of the river for that very reason. They, ha. As the only one capable of walking without assistance Cullen did m
ost of it, having to help first Alistair, then...then her, and finally Honor out of the hole and to daylight. A warm sunset hugged the horizon, threatening to dip down into a chilly night, but for now they had a rosy glow to match a massive question hanging over their heads.
"How are you getting on?" Alistair shouted, his hands cupped over his mouth while he gazed up at the sky.
"Are you talking to me?" Lana called back, her voice strained but growing stronger with each passing moment. She'd drank both of their water skins dry and it still wasn't enough to refill her dehydrated body. Maker only knew how long it'd been since she'd had a real drink, a real meal, a real...anything.
"Who else would I be asking? Captain Sullen over here?" Alistair called.
"That's Commander Sullen," he shot back, trying to keep up with the ease with which the old...whatever they were fell into conversation.
It had to be his ears knocking against his heart, but he thought he heard a snicker from Lana before she smacked her fist against the water. "Going pretty good. Got at least an inch of the grime off, only another five more to go. And this is delicious!" Chewing sounds followed her statement, as she was probably finishing off the last of their rations. After holding her brittle frame, his fingers tugging against her gaunt cheeks, they were both happy to watch it all vanish into Lana's malnourished stomach.
Cullen shook his head and he raised his voice, "All that time and your first meal out of the fade is hardtack. Seems particularly cruel."
"Actually," Alistair rolled over to the side to look at him but didn't raise his head off the ground, "she loves that stuff."
"You must be kidding," Cullen grimaced. Hardtack was what you ate because it was preferable to starving. Durable, long lasting, tough as shoe leather but somehow tasteless. No one bothered to add any spice to it, because no one wanted to face the dangerous reality of one day needing to eat it. Armies marched to get away from hardtack.
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