10th of Glade, 120th of Steel
The Pact: Part I
She stumbled and slipped, but stayed on her feet. The ground suddenly felt uneven and when she looked down, she was ankle deep in bloody grass. It sloshed under foot, squelching and trying to suck her boots off. Panic welled up inside her as she tried to find more solid ground, sliding and stumbling several feet but finding no purchase. Leliana finally froze and closed her eyes, hearing nothing but her heart hammering loudly in her chest, echoing in her ears. The half-breed tightened both hands around the hilt of her sword, taking a deep shuddering breath through flared nostrils.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.
"What do you mean, it's not real? Looks real to me." That snide tone. An unforgettable voice. Leliana turned. Hodge, her slaver--or rather ex slaver, smirked at her from just a few yards away. It was more of a snarl really, twisting his face cruelly. "Hello pet."
"You're not real."
"You don't sound so sure." He was right. He took a few steps closer and she noticed his rapier was in his hand. "I've been looking for you, you know. I miss you." Her steps mirrored his, but the other direction. The trees were starting to weep now. Blood trickled from cracks in their bark. The increasingly metallic smell in the air was nauseating. "You're a tough little bird to find."
"Don't call me that."
"What? Little bird?" Leliana gritted her teeth and his smile widened. "But it's true. You were always my favorite little bird. So soft and docile. You were always my good little girl."
"Fuck you! I'm not your little girl," she snapped, baring her teeth at him. He stopped his approach and sneered.
"I gave you a life of luxury! You should be grateful I didn't feed you to the dogs like your whore mother! She poisoned your mind! I could look past your tainted mongrel bloodline, but you're as ungrateful and treacherous as she was."
Leliana screamed and lunged at him, bringing her sword down hard. He lifted his rapier to block the blow, but he stumbled backwards as she threw herself into him. Her boots slid through the blood-soaked grass but she pressed forward, pounding him with one strike after another.
"I hate everything that you are! I've wanted to drive a knife in your eye for fifteen years!" she spat, slashing at him, kicking, striking. He had settled into a good rhythm of parrying her blade and soon found an opening to return a strike. His sword lunged toward her belly and she jumped backwards, arching away from the tip of the blade as it swept by and nicked the fabric of her shirt.
"You're still weak," he goaded. "You've always been weak. The day I disposed of that bitch, you did nothing. You just let her be ripped apart."
"Liar!" she screamed, thrusting her sword at him. He slapped it away with the narrow belly of his blade.
"You'll always be a scared little bird. My scared little bird."
Leliana snarled and lunged again, bringing her sword down fast and hard. Sweat and tears blinded her, her ears were ringing at a deafening pitch and her heart pounded wildly in her chest, but there was one thing for certain--she was not scared. Their swords crashed together, jarring her arms, but she bore down and tried to keep the momentum going. His blade collapsed back under the weight of her attack right into the meat of his shoulder. She held it there, panting and trembling with exhaustion, watching the blood well up around the blade and soak through his shirt.
The shocked look on his face was the most intense and immediate satisfaction she'd ever felt. Chest heaving, her lips stretched into a smile. The half-breed started to straighten herself, trying to formulate some sort of snide remark.
"I like the way you blee--" Her words were cut short by a sudden and violent tilt in orientation. Everything started spinning, as if falling uncontrollably from a high place. Lily was immediate nauseous and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the whirling. Her stomach lurched. It went only went on for what had to be less than a minute, but really there was no way to be sure. The next thing she knew everything had stopped and she was on her knees heaving violently, emptying what little contents there were until her throat and nose burned from stomach acid. Slowly she began to register a garbled voice growing louder and louder.
"--iana! Leliana! Say something!"
Eyes watering, bleary from exhaustion, she finally looked up. Her father was stooped in front of her, a hand on her shoulder, face etched with worry.
"What?" she croaked before breaking into a fit of coughing.
"I thought you were about to die." His voice broke as he said it. Arangyl quickly produced a handkerchief and started carefully wiping her face.
She was too dazed to wave him away. It was like waking up from a horrible nightmare by being beaten within an inch of death. After a few moments of deep breathing Leliana sat back on her haunches. She finally noted that her sword lay next to her in the grass, looking quite the worse for wear.
"What--"
"You completed your Initiation. The Pact was successful." There was a note of pride in his voice now. She blinked slowly, looking back at her father. His shirt was soaked through with blood at the shoulder. The same place she'd cut Hodge. He didn't seem phased by it.
"Did I do that to you?"
"You were hallucinating."
"I was fighting Hodge."
"Yes, but you were really fighting me."
"What if I'd killed you?"
"You couldn't kill me, Leliana." He smiled this time. "I'm proud you were able to strike me." His face quickly grew serious again. "You must dematerialize your weapon now."
"How do I do that?"
"The sword is a part of you. It depends on your own bond with it, as you were the one that facilitated the Initiation. It will be incredibly painful though. The blows that your weapon received during the fight, they will transfer to you once it dematerializes. It's one of the heavy costs of Reaving, at least at first. You always feel it, but it gets easier with time and practice.
"Sounds fun." His lips twitched again with the hint of a smirk.
Moving carefully, Leliana picked the battered sword up and knelt in the grass, laying the blade across her thighs. It was a relief to close her eyes--that was the easy part. Her next few breaths were slow but shaky. Proper rhythm took a few tries, but eventually her heart rate started to steady and her chest rose and fell more evenly. It was hard not to think about just how exhausted she was. This had been nothing like the sparring she'd done with her father before. This had been a real battle. Brief it seemed, by how little the sun had moved in the sky, but arduous nonetheless.
This time around harnessing her aether was quicker. Not smooth or practiced, but at least faster. It felt clumsy still, like carrying furniture up and down a narrow flight of steps. There was a lot of wrestling involved although the grasp was firm. Leliana tapping into the newfound sensation of what could only be the Cardinal Rune's essence now ingrained into her being. She could feel the weapon as an extension of herself, like an extra arm or leg of sorts. There was little control there as of yet but the potential was there.
Leliana tapped into the new bond carefully, treading lightly into the unknown of this new aspect of herself. As if simply through force of will, the weapon blinked out of physical existence and back into stasis with all the care and ease of an oncoming train. It hit so hard that Lily was knocked onto her back gasping for breath. She clutched at her chest and Arangyl rushed to her side, trying to prop up her head before she quickly rolled over and vomited again.
The new initiate was past the point of thinking it could never get any worse, because it could and very immediately did. The wounds that cropped up on her body would be debilitating for the next few days, leaving her immobilized in pain and forcibly stalling their travel until she was well enough to walk for short periods of time. Arangyl tended to her the best he could, but to his regret what she would need most was time and rest.
"Not fun," she finally croaked, throat raw and tears streaking her face when the shock of it all initially passed.
"Quiet now and rest, child. Take comfort in the fact that you survived. I'm proud of you."
When he carried her back to their camp and carefully laid her down on her bedroll, the exhausted sleep that overtook her was fraught with images of blood and filled with the screams of ghosts long dead and snarling hounds.
The Pact: Part I
She stumbled and slipped, but stayed on her feet. The ground suddenly felt uneven and when she looked down, she was ankle deep in bloody grass. It sloshed under foot, squelching and trying to suck her boots off. Panic welled up inside her as she tried to find more solid ground, sliding and stumbling several feet but finding no purchase. Leliana finally froze and closed her eyes, hearing nothing but her heart hammering loudly in her chest, echoing in her ears. The half-breed tightened both hands around the hilt of her sword, taking a deep shuddering breath through flared nostrils.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real.
"What do you mean, it's not real? Looks real to me." That snide tone. An unforgettable voice. Leliana turned. Hodge, her slaver--or rather ex slaver, smirked at her from just a few yards away. It was more of a snarl really, twisting his face cruelly. "Hello pet."
"You're not real."
"You don't sound so sure." He was right. He took a few steps closer and she noticed his rapier was in his hand. "I've been looking for you, you know. I miss you." Her steps mirrored his, but the other direction. The trees were starting to weep now. Blood trickled from cracks in their bark. The increasingly metallic smell in the air was nauseating. "You're a tough little bird to find."
"Don't call me that."
"What? Little bird?" Leliana gritted her teeth and his smile widened. "But it's true. You were always my favorite little bird. So soft and docile. You were always my good little girl."
"Fuck you! I'm not your little girl," she snapped, baring her teeth at him. He stopped his approach and sneered.
"I gave you a life of luxury! You should be grateful I didn't feed you to the dogs like your whore mother! She poisoned your mind! I could look past your tainted mongrel bloodline, but you're as ungrateful and treacherous as she was."
Leliana screamed and lunged at him, bringing her sword down hard. He lifted his rapier to block the blow, but he stumbled backwards as she threw herself into him. Her boots slid through the blood-soaked grass but she pressed forward, pounding him with one strike after another.
"I hate everything that you are! I've wanted to drive a knife in your eye for fifteen years!" she spat, slashing at him, kicking, striking. He had settled into a good rhythm of parrying her blade and soon found an opening to return a strike. His sword lunged toward her belly and she jumped backwards, arching away from the tip of the blade as it swept by and nicked the fabric of her shirt.
"You're still weak," he goaded. "You've always been weak. The day I disposed of that bitch, you did nothing. You just let her be ripped apart."
"Liar!" she screamed, thrusting her sword at him. He slapped it away with the narrow belly of his blade.
"You'll always be a scared little bird. My scared little bird."
Leliana snarled and lunged again, bringing her sword down fast and hard. Sweat and tears blinded her, her ears were ringing at a deafening pitch and her heart pounded wildly in her chest, but there was one thing for certain--she was not scared. Their swords crashed together, jarring her arms, but she bore down and tried to keep the momentum going. His blade collapsed back under the weight of her attack right into the meat of his shoulder. She held it there, panting and trembling with exhaustion, watching the blood well up around the blade and soak through his shirt.
The shocked look on his face was the most intense and immediate satisfaction she'd ever felt. Chest heaving, her lips stretched into a smile. The half-breed started to straighten herself, trying to formulate some sort of snide remark.
"I like the way you blee--" Her words were cut short by a sudden and violent tilt in orientation. Everything started spinning, as if falling uncontrollably from a high place. Lily was immediate nauseous and closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the whirling. Her stomach lurched. It went only went on for what had to be less than a minute, but really there was no way to be sure. The next thing she knew everything had stopped and she was on her knees heaving violently, emptying what little contents there were until her throat and nose burned from stomach acid. Slowly she began to register a garbled voice growing louder and louder.
"--iana! Leliana! Say something!"
Eyes watering, bleary from exhaustion, she finally looked up. Her father was stooped in front of her, a hand on her shoulder, face etched with worry.
"What?" she croaked before breaking into a fit of coughing.
"I thought you were about to die." His voice broke as he said it. Arangyl quickly produced a handkerchief and started carefully wiping her face.
She was too dazed to wave him away. It was like waking up from a horrible nightmare by being beaten within an inch of death. After a few moments of deep breathing Leliana sat back on her haunches. She finally noted that her sword lay next to her in the grass, looking quite the worse for wear.
"What--"
"You completed your Initiation. The Pact was successful." There was a note of pride in his voice now. She blinked slowly, looking back at her father. His shirt was soaked through with blood at the shoulder. The same place she'd cut Hodge. He didn't seem phased by it.
"Did I do that to you?"
"You were hallucinating."
"I was fighting Hodge."
"Yes, but you were really fighting me."
"What if I'd killed you?"
"You couldn't kill me, Leliana." He smiled this time. "I'm proud you were able to strike me." His face quickly grew serious again. "You must dematerialize your weapon now."
"How do I do that?"
"The sword is a part of you. It depends on your own bond with it, as you were the one that facilitated the Initiation. It will be incredibly painful though. The blows that your weapon received during the fight, they will transfer to you once it dematerializes. It's one of the heavy costs of Reaving, at least at first. You always feel it, but it gets easier with time and practice.
"Sounds fun." His lips twitched again with the hint of a smirk.
Moving carefully, Leliana picked the battered sword up and knelt in the grass, laying the blade across her thighs. It was a relief to close her eyes--that was the easy part. Her next few breaths were slow but shaky. Proper rhythm took a few tries, but eventually her heart rate started to steady and her chest rose and fell more evenly. It was hard not to think about just how exhausted she was. This had been nothing like the sparring she'd done with her father before. This had been a real battle. Brief it seemed, by how little the sun had moved in the sky, but arduous nonetheless.
This time around harnessing her aether was quicker. Not smooth or practiced, but at least faster. It felt clumsy still, like carrying furniture up and down a narrow flight of steps. There was a lot of wrestling involved although the grasp was firm. Leliana tapping into the newfound sensation of what could only be the Cardinal Rune's essence now ingrained into her being. She could feel the weapon as an extension of herself, like an extra arm or leg of sorts. There was little control there as of yet but the potential was there.
Leliana tapped into the new bond carefully, treading lightly into the unknown of this new aspect of herself. As if simply through force of will, the weapon blinked out of physical existence and back into stasis with all the care and ease of an oncoming train. It hit so hard that Lily was knocked onto her back gasping for breath. She clutched at her chest and Arangyl rushed to her side, trying to prop up her head before she quickly rolled over and vomited again.
The new initiate was past the point of thinking it could never get any worse, because it could and very immediately did. The wounds that cropped up on her body would be debilitating for the next few days, leaving her immobilized in pain and forcibly stalling their travel until she was well enough to walk for short periods of time. Arangyl tended to her the best he could, but to his regret what she would need most was time and rest.
"Not fun," she finally croaked, throat raw and tears streaking her face when the shock of it all initially passed.
"Quiet now and rest, child. Take comfort in the fact that you survived. I'm proud of you."
When he carried her back to their camp and carefully laid her down on her bedroll, the exhausted sleep that overtook her was fraught with images of blood and filled with the screams of ghosts long dead and snarling hounds.
