The First's Sister

Warning: Depictions of graphic violence to follow. You have been warned.

 

Chapter 7

Warden's POV

 

With a high sweep of my blade it's razor sharp edge slices through the rusty old metal of one of my opponent's chest plate, cutting into the rotting flesh beneath and embedding itself into the bones of his ribs. Trying to pull by blade free and finding and unyielding resistance I am forced to drop it from my grasp to avoid an overhead strike of a battle axe slicing my arm off at the elbow.

 

Losing my sword from my dominate hand immediately sets me at a disadvantage and I take a step back as one of the walking dead crumples to the ground, my sword still firmly wedged into his chest. Swapping my reaming sword from the left hand over to my right I take another cautions step back and out range of the wildly swinging, double sided axe to give me enough time to compose myself.

 

My opponent takes another step forward and I easily duck under the high sweep and roll forwards and behind him, reaching into my boot for a short dagger so my left hand is not left empty during battle.

 

Instinct pushing my knees straight and presses one foot heavily into the stone floor I turn and in a single stroke slash the blade of my dagger clean through the spine of the axe welding undead. Without the few strings of flesh and the line of bone to hold it's head steady, his chin hits his breastplate with a clang and he drops to his knees. His dead weight dragging him to the floor a moment later in a mass of rotting flesh and rusty armour.

 

With adrenalin pounding through my veins and no more opponents to exert my energy on I turn my eyes to the other members of the party.

 

One walking dead, his bones so old that they are belched white and not a scrap of flesh clings to them, jumps into the air, sword raised high above his head and arcs through the air towards Hawke. Only to land flat against the tall warriors shield, with such force that it forces the old bones to separate at each joint and fall uselessly to the floor at her feet. She swipes her shield from it's defensive position to bash against the chest of another enemy while simultaneously swinging her sword to decapitate another.

 

Isabela throws herself into a roll under the overhead strike of a war hammer, it misses her by a hands breath and strikes the floor with such ferocity it cracks the stone, throwing pebbles into the air around it. With her adversary sufficiently distracted trying to right himself, Isabela quickly dispatches him with a swipe of her blade before swiftly moving onto another.

 

Seeing that both of the two fighters are not in any immediate danger my eyes reach out further, right to the back to the group just in time to see Merrill take a step back losing ground to her attachers that are getting much to close for a mage to have to deal with. Twirling her staff she conjures a spirit bolt from its tip and throws it into the chest of her enemy, he crumples to the floor only to be replaced by another.

 

I can see she is very quickly becoming overwhelmed, not being used to close quarter combat of any sort and her faltering steps tell me her continual barrage of spells are beginning to take its toll on her. Flipping the small dagger in my grasp so the blood smears blade lands in my palm, I draw it back and release, decisively taking down the closest opponent to my sister as the sharp edge embeds itself his skull right up to the hilt.

 

Merrill's bright green eyes meet mine for a heartbeat in silent thanks before her attention is drawn to the side and she fires a ball of fire at her nearest opponent.

 

My eyes flick to the left to find Hawke forcefully carving a path through the undead horde with both her sword and shield towards my sister. She's like a women possessed, letting nothing stand in her way for more than a heartbeat before lashing out with her weapons to cut all who oppose her down to size, a line of walking dead sent back to the grave left in her wake.

 

Seeing that the small mage is in good hands I fully turn my attention back to my immediate soundings, only to have to bring my remaining blade up and across my chest to block of vicious strike. Steal clatters against steal and I throw my weight against my weapon to throw my foe away from me.

 

He recovers quickly and once more rises his blade to strike, three quick parries and a single thrust and he goes down like a bag of bones at my feet. Another steps forward to take his place only to meet the same end at the point of my sword.

 

Spinning on the spot I find another trying to flank my unarmed left side, he has manages to get for to close for my comfort and without thinking I strike out with my closed fist, catching the loosely hanging jaw with my ill placed punch dislodging it so it fly through the air, ducking under a high arc from my opponent's blade I sweep my sword low catching his knees and quite literally take the feet from under him. He crumples to the floor and meets a grizzly end under the pommel of my sword as it falls onto what remains of his face, crushing it into only splinters of bone.

 

In moments I’m back on my feet. My breath ragged and heart hammering in my chest, my tainted blood singing at being amongst so much destruction and I can feel the hunger for more churning into a ball of fire deep in my belly. My eyes sweeping over the last remaining few of the horde that attacked us.

 

Three steps, one pray and my blade slides easily through rotting flesh, one more I must relinquish my blade as I meet resistant in extracting it. It no longer matters, the blood of darkspawn rejoicing in my veins at the sight before me. Two more steps and a kick to the knee and another waling skeleton crumples at my feet only for his skull to be crushed under my advancing boot. A duck under another blade leads me naturally into a powerful uppercut, Detaching my opponents head from his shoulders, the length of my forearm presses against his chest to remove the obstacle before me.

 

I stop my advance, finding nothing more to oppose me. Then scan the room with my eyes, the violent nature of the taint begging and pleading for more death, more carnage and more blood.

 

The room is quiet and hollow to my ears save my own heavy breaths and out of the corner of my eye I spy movement. Cautious steps of a human I can barely recognise in the mist of the blood-lust haze. Had I been fighting humans? The rotting corpses at my feet say otherwise but the taint running through me craves blood. Be it friend or foe it is uncaring in it's endeavour. A tiny slither of humanity shines through the darkness blanketing my soul enough for me to close my eyes and remove the temptation to step across this room and end every life within it until I bathe in their blood and panicked screams.

 

My shoulders bunch as I enter my own private battle. Clawing away at the darkest part of me so I am able to control my actions and curb the volatile nature of what I must endure.

 

A shout cries out in the hollow room. “Don't touch her!” Then echoing back at me from the stone walls has me flinching against the intestacy of the sound hitting my sensitive ears. I feel my shoulder roll as the darkness relents, giving me back my limbs one by one and only when I feel enough like my self that I will not jump into a violent killing spree do I open my eyes.

 

All I find in their faces is curious concern, I thought I would be able to rein it in but it was different this time. Usually when the taint takes hold of me its gradual, slowly seeping into my muscles as it lusts for the blood that I feed it. This time I barely even noticed the darkness until I had become engulfed within it.

 

I turn from their concern, just glad they had not been in striking distance when the sickening darkness in my soul invaded my senses. Busying myself with retrieving my weapons as a hopeless ploy not to meet their questioning gaze.

 

“What in Andraste's name was that?” Isabela's voice cuts through the air and right to the heart of the matter.

 

Not trusting my voice enough to speak I reach out to wrap my palm around the hilt of my sword and rest my booted foot against the rotting corpse's chest so I can pull it free, pausing to wiping the remaining gristle and bone that clings to it against his worn and battered tunic.

 

“Warden?” She says again but stops when my gaze touches hers. She takes a step back even though from this distance I couldn't hope to land a killing blow.

 

A low growl rumbles through my chest without my permission and I have to drop my eyes back to the cobbled floor, the muscles along my neck shaking with restraint as I still struggle to bring my blood-lust back under control.

 

“Was that the taint?” It is Hawke that asks and only receives a short nod in reply as my sword slides into it's scabbard at my hip. “Okay.” I can hear the weaver of fear in her voice and step even further away to retrieve my other blade, needed just a little longer to feel more like myself.

 

The glint of metal catches my eyes in the bright lights afforded to us from the lava running along the walls and I stoop down next to the body with my blade embedded across his chest. With my back to the rest of the party my elbow lands on my bent knee and my forehead drops into my hand. Nails dig in to every piece of flesh they can find and it's only after several long, shaky breaths that I begin to feel the pain. The darkness fights back, jerking my shoulder and I push more pressure against my skull, grasping onto the self inflicted pain and letting it pull me back into this world. Dragging me away from the deep insatiable need for fury and blood.

 

Opening my eyes once again I am able to focus on everything around me. Turning my head I see Isabela sat on the stone floor, her arm held in Hawke's hands as she ties a bandage around a shallow wound. All of them speaking in hushed whispers and casting weary glances in my direction.

 

I reach out and after three tugs managing to pull my blade free, stopping to clean it as I had with the other and pushing it into it's sheath

 

I stand and make no move to find my dagger, feeling it might be fruitless search, amongst the piles of dead that have collected in that general area and knowing that it was buried to the hilt will make it very difficult to spot. So instead I turn to the others and find myself unsurprised when they stop their hushed conversation upon my approach.

 

My eyes immediately seek out Merrill's “You alright?”

 

She smiles and her bright eyes twinkle in the harsh light. “Shouldn't I be asking you that?”

 

The grin that pulls across my face succeeds in chasing away the last remanence of the darkness running through my veins. “Just lost myself for a moment.” I begin, having no other way of describing the haunting yet familiar experience. “I'll be fine.” My eyes seek out Isabela's hooded expression and immediately I need to put her fears to rest. “Sorry if I scared you.”

 

“Apology accepted.” She says, still with a crease covering her forehead and not making any move to deny her fright. “Is someone going to fill me in and tell me what that was?” Her eyes shoot over to Hawke with a cry of “Ow.” and she wrenches her injured arm from the hands of the warrior. “What was that for?”

 

Hawke only shoot her a warning look before reaching out to take her limb back into her grasp. I can see through her thinly veiled attempt to protect me from such questions but Isabela does have a point, if we are to press on it would be useful to be knowledgeable if only in part to what the taint can do to me in the mist of battle.

 

Slowly I lower myself to the ground, loosely bending my knees in front to me and resting my crossed arms across them. “Alistair once called it the Curse of the Grey Warden's.” Never have I had to endure something so amply named. “One of them at least. Usually it's harmless, just a nagging voice pushing me forward. Being down here doesn’t help.” My eyes cast over the high stone coaling of the Deep Roads. Remembering when I had to spend countless weeks so far beneath the ground, so far from the suns warming rays, so close to the Archdemon's forces and having it whisper in my ear every passing moment of every day. It makes me wonder how I was able to keep my sanity.

 

Even with the Archdemon long since dead the walls of this place hold it's whispers and they glide over me in a gentle caress, breathing words of carnage and blood across my ear.

 

“Are their any darkspawn close by?” Hawke asks, not taking her eyes from her task.

 

“No.” I answer, wondering how this woman can know so much about the secrets of the Grey Wardens and not have accepted the taint herself. “Not close enough to be any conceivable threat anyway.”

 

She ties off the edge of the bandage and turns to me. “Can you go on. Or do we need to clear a path for you?”

 

I tilt my head to the side, curious as to her concern, then feel my forehead crease in concentration. listening to my body and all that the tainted blood can tell me. When I fell into this section of the Deep Roads I had not been expecting it. Not been prepared for the barrage of violent emotions that the walls themselves can conjure within me.

 

Now I have had time to breathe, without the threat of looming battle. Time to pull my thoughts back under my control. Had opportunity to systematically remove the need for blood and death from my mind. “I think I’ll be alright. But to be on the safe side, when we come across any more of those bastards don’t get to close. I can't always tell friend from foe when I’m like that.”

 

Hawke nods once to show her acceptance of the situation, Isabela shows me an expression of disbelief and Merrill, bless her kind heart, rests her hand against my forearm in a comforting gesture.

 

“So.” I start, making no move to remove my sister's hand from my skin. Drawing comfort from the simple touch and letting it chance my demons away. “Are we ready to go?” I am anxious to make tracks and leave these haunting walls behind hopefully never having to lay eyes on them again.

 

Isabella shakes her head, I am unsure if it to clear the fear she feels towards me or to catch up to the rapid subject change. She flexes her arm and appraises Hawke's handy work before speaking. “Only if our fearless leader has a plan.” Her eyes land on Hawke.

 

“Well. We can't exactly go back the way we came.” Her gaze tilts skywards to the hole I made in the ceiling. “We'll just have to push forward, hopefully we'll get back to the mine shaft.”

 

“And if we don't.” Isabella asks while pushing herself to her feet.

 

“Did you remember to bring a pick axe?” I ask, accepting the helping hand from the Pirate Queen so she is able to pull me to my feet.

 

“I'm a sailor.” She says, scoffing at such a notion. “Sailor's never dig... Unless it's for buried treasure.”

 

Somehow she has managed to go from fearful to teasing within a single breath and I silently thank the Creators for the small gift. “Oh. So you'll dig but only if gold is involved.” I reach down and help my sister to her feet while engaging in the easy bater.

 

“Oh Warden.” She starts with a disapproving tone. “It doesn’t always have to be gold.”

 

“So what classes as treasure in your warped mind.” Hawke being much larger in stature and sporting very heavy plate armer requires both mine and Merrill's aid to pull her from the dusty floor.

 

Isabela openly appraises me, her eyes running the length of my frame with a smirk fixed to her face that makes the tips of my ears burn. “Well. Any sort of booty there is.”

 

And somehow we're back to flirting. Strange, wrapped, crazy flirting but flirting all the same. She takes a few steps away from us, her hips swaying in such a sensual way that my eyes are naturally drawn to that part of her frame. All thought of blood chased away and replaced by the notion of how I will be able to convince Leliana to spend another night like we did in the Pearl so many moons ago.