Chapter 140: Walking Nightmare

It was two more days before my brother finally returned. While we waited, Sigrun resumed caring for Faren, and Alim shut himself in the library. Alistair went out to meet with Conrad, who’d seen no sign of darkspawn on his patrols; he was worried, however, that Rolan and his patrol hadn’t made it to their last meeting. The patrol routes were planned such that each group met with one of the others once per day, and the former templar hadn’t been there in the morning when Oghren, Conrad, and Wulf had arrived. Alistair gave Conrad permission to take his group back along the route Rolan should have followed, hoping to find them, perhaps having discovered darkspawn and unable to send a messenger for some reason.

I wasn’t so sanguine, but had no better ideas of where to look. An extra squad of soldiers accompanied the senior Warden, along with a cage carrying one of Nathaniel’s trained birds to bring a message back once Rolan was found.

When Aedan finally did return, I almost forgot completely about Rolan, because my brother brought with him the nightmare I’d spent over a year trying to prevent.

Aedan and the group who accompanied him were filthy; I avoided hugs in favour of an enthusiastic wave, squealing and running away when a grinning, grimy Aedan threatened to grab me.

The problem first became apparent when Vander, previously so vocal and aggressive, walked past the servants and soldiers milling about in the courtyard as though they weren’t even there. He had a blank, unfocused look on his face, and I raised an eyebrow as he ignored even the elven servants being harassed by soldiers clamouring to have their armour cleaned, or food brought to the barracks, or baths drawn. One poor servant, a slight, mousy fellow with yellow teeth and a dramatic cowlick, looked distinctly intimidated, and several of us went to his defense, but Vander wandered past in a fugue, oblivious.

Aedan winced, and Zevran gave Vander a distinctly nauseated look before practically disappearing before my eyes, clearly in an effort to avoid whatever was happening with the elf entirely. Prince, covered liberally in mud, his tail tucked between his legs, slunk off after another servant who was threatening the mabari with a bath; it was an unusual sight, as it usually took threats, treats, and at least Aedan or me to get him to submit to being scrubbed clean. I raised my eyebrows at my brother, and he sighed. Wading forward through the chaos, he grabbed Vander by the wrist, gestured to me and Alistair to follow, and led us inside to our usual private meeting room.

He didn’t stop until the four of us were locked in, he and Vander still dripping mud and Maker-knew what else all over the thick rug. And the entire time, Vander hadn’t said a word – not about being grabbed, practically dragged through the Keep, or about the black slime that coated their armour and boots almost entirely.

With a dramatic flop, Aedan released Vander and threw himself into a nearby chair. Judging by the goop that scraped off his armour onto the fabric arm, the poor piece of furniture was going to have to be burned after he was done with it – as would the rug. Vander just stood there awkwardly, posture stiff and unnatural. Alistair and I traded concerned looks, before turning to Aedan hoping for an explanation.

My brother rubbed irritably at his temples, and then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “You’re going to kill me.”

I wasn’t sure who that was directed at, but Vander shifted uncomfortably until Aedan raised a hand and finally looked straight at me. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. He looks like hell.

“Aedan, what happened?”

“I’ll ... get to that. I think I should start at the beginning.” He held a hand up as Vander’s head snapped up and his mouth opened; to my shock, the elf looked away again without saying anything.

“When we were in Amaranthine, we got word from some of the farmers who’d fled to the city that darkspawn had been spotted. The reports sounded like the darkspawn were too organised, so we assumed there must have been one of the sentient ones leading them, but no one knew exactly where they were headed. We went east, picked up the taint, and followed it across to the peninsula. We fought a large group of darkspawn, but no emissary or anything; then Vander found a trail. It led to the Blackmarsh.”

Black Marsh? The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to think back to my patrol planning with Nate, but I was sure we’d never discussed it. Was it from the game?

And then it came to me. Blackmarsh. An abandoned town full of ghosts that inhabited the Fade, forever fighting against the Baroness who abused, and then trapped them. Ghosts who drew the attention of a spirit of Justice.

A place the Wardens in my alternate version of Thedas were never supposed to go.

I looked at Aedan desperately, dread settling in the pit of my stomach like so much spoiled meat.

“We found the darkspawn – he called himself the First. And he had this orb, he did something...”

No! My mind screamed while my body was paralysed with horror and disbelief. My poor brother had been trapped in the Fade, and then...

That meant...

I swivelled to face Vander, studying his face, his hair, delicately sniffing the air to see if I could detect the scent of decomposition. I couldn’t smell anything, but something about the way the elf stood, back ramrod straight, expression blank, almost like he wasn’t seeing...

Aedan had kept talking, unaware of my internal dialogue and my budding awareness. I interrupted him as he started talking about the Baroness, addressing the body in the room that I was more and more sure wasn’t the home of an angry Grey Warden any longer.

“Justice?”

Vander’s body turned to look at me, clearly startled, if you looked only at the body language and ignored the unnaturally still face. “Yes?” His voice was deep, deeper than any elf had the right to, without the eerie double-timbre of an abomination – like Connor, or Uldred – but clearly no longer belonging to a person. “And no,” it continued, ignoring Aedan as he jumped to his feet and Alistair as he took one look at my face and gripped the pommel of his sword.

Aedan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You knew? You did. Of course you did.” He rubbed at his face irritably, making lines in the muck caked on his skin. “Why didn’t you warn us?”

I couldn’t take my eyes off the body in front of me containing a spirit I’d hoped never to see. I ignored Aedan’s question for the moment. “No?” I inquired. “You aren’t Justice?”

“Not ... entirely,” he replied tonelessly. “I am Justice, but I am also Vander.”

I took a step back, shocked. “What? How... ?”

Aedan responded, tone irate. “Vander was injured. The First stabbed him before we went into the Fade. With no healer, and after being in the Fade for so long...”

“He was dying,” Justice cut in. “He fought to defend the villagers trapped in the Fade, fought for justice. He would not have survived the blood loss. When I found myself in the real world, not the Fade, I ... helped. Together we could survive wounds that otherwise would have been mortal. There would have been no justice in letting him die. But now we are one, in a way I did not expect.”

Mouth agape, I stepped back, stumbling away from the abomination – wait, it isn’t called an abomination unless the possessed is a mage; what’s this called? – in front of me until I bumped into a chaise, sinking down onto it mindlessly. This is worse than I could have imagined. Not only is Justice in the real world, but he’s already possessed someone. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop myself from shaking.

Alistair still had his eyes locked on the creature who’d accompanied Aedan back from the swamp; Aedan however, watched me, and his irritated expression morphed into one of concern as he got up and knelt in front of me.

“Sierra? It’s okay. It’s a spirit, not a demon. Vander lived, thanks to Justice! It’s going to be okay, I promise. Just breathe, sis.”

I must have looked pale; I didn’t resist when Aedan encouraged me to lean forward, putting my head between my knees as I hyperventilated. I let out a hysterical laugh.

“It’s not okay. It’s...” I trailed off, sitting upright again and meeting my brother’s eyes. “Do you know the difference between a demon and a spirit?”

He looked puzzled, and opened his mouth to reply. I cut him off before he could.

“There isn’t one, Aedan ... they’re the same, except one has been corrupted by the negative aspects of emotions. Pride, fear, desire, greed ... they all have spirit counterparts. Spirits that can be corrupted.”

“I am no demon!” Justice roared suddenly. “I am Justice!” Blue light flickered in the room, surreal, like I was back on earth standing near a failing neon light. I looked at Vander to see cracks in his skin, the blue bleeding through and glowing like a lantern. His voice took on that frightening, supernatural double-timbre I associated with abominations, and I cringed.

Alistair, still watching the possessed elf while we talked, had his sword drawn and held to Justice’s neck before he could take a single step towards me. “You’re doing a poor job of reassuring us of that, then, spirit,” he quipped, his arm not wavering as the point drew a tiny trickle of blood from the creature’s flesh.

Aedan sprang up from the floor, turning to the spirit, surprised at the rage audible in the creature’s unnatural voice. “Justice?”

The blue light faded as quickly as it had come, Vander’s normal tanned skin colour returning with no sign of the cracks we’d seen moments before. Face flushed, Justice took a step back, looking away in what would have looked like shame had he been a person. “I apologise, Commander. These emotions ... they are stronger than I’d imagined.”

Aedan nodded, expression unreadable. “Justice, I would like to send you to a room to get cleaned up. I will have someone escort you. I will come talk to you in a little while, alright?”

The spirit nodded, and with a quick squeeze of my shoulder, Aedan stepped out of the room. Alistair lowered his sword but didn’t sheath it, moving to stand between me and the spirit.

Justice leaned around Alistair to see me, where I sat staring wide-eyed at him. “I apologise. I hope you will give us another chance to talk with you. I would like to explain.”

Alistair grunted, but I just bobbled my head – neither a nod nor a shake; an undecided motion that didn’t commit me to anything. Seeming to accept that, Justice turned to face the door Aedan had slipped out of, and when my brother returned a moment later, a servant in tow, he followed the servant wordlessly out of the room.

“Sierra? Can I clean up, and then meet you in your room in a few minutes?” He scowled down at me, expression softening slightly when he saw my pale face, lip trembling. “I think we should talk somewhere private.”

I nodded, and got up to follow him upstairs; Alistair retrieved my little shower head for Aedan to help speed things along, and my brother disappeared into his room. I followed Alistair into ours, sighing heavily as he wrapped his arms around me. We shifted to the small couch by the hearth, and I crawled into Alistair’s lap, resting my head against his chest and listening quietly to the sound of his heart beating as I concentrated on slowing my breath. He didn’t ask me anything, to my relief; he should have been angry with me for keeping secrets, but it seemed he knew something more was going on. He just sat, rubbing my back, until there was a knock on the door and both Aedan and Zevran slipped in when Alistair called out.

The two men settled – Aedan into the chair, Zevran on the floor at his feet – and looked at me expectantly. I sighed.