Prologue
"Why can't anyone ever leave one of these things on, I don't know, their mother's mantelpiece or something?" Finn asked sourly. Hot updrafts from the chasm before them ruffled the mage's hair as he stared at the ledge across and down from where they stood, and he unconsciously smoothed it back into place.
"It happens." Vashti squinted in the dim and angry red-orange light of the lava flow below. "I found the Veshaille in a merchant's cart."
'"We've found the Urn of Felas'era and all you two can do is complain?" Ariane shook her head incredulously. Vashti favored her with a dark look - she hadn't been complaining. Ariane ignored it. "Well... now what? I suppose we head up tunnel to look for a way across?" They were underground, in the Deep Roads, in a long-forgotten tunnel that had once been part of the route from ancient Cad'halash to Kal-Sharok. When Kal-Sharok destroyed the smaller thaig, not all of the plunder returned to the great capital. According to the legends and rumors Finn had been chasing, the Urn was likely among the lost loot.
"The scroll." The taciturn Grey Warden held out a hand to Finn. He responded with a martyred sigh, dropping his pack and undoing the buckles. Anyone else might have had to rummage for the scroll case, but not Finn - four such cases were neatly arrayed along the right side of the bag, and he plucked out the second from the top without hesitation. He removed the pair of polished wooden handles from the case and unrolled a section of the scroll. "What do you want to see?"
"The picture," Vashti replied, hand still out. She waited as he fiddled, unspooling parchment from one handle and taking it up on the other until an image of the Urn was framed between his hands. "Be careful," he admonished, as always. Ariane reflected that there was progress - he let them touch his papers, now.
Vashti looked at the picture of the Urn, then back across the chasm. They could all see the silver-blue glitter of its footed pedestal, but the tall, slender body and wide, branching arms were hidden from view by an overhang of rock. "If I can see these," she pointed towards the arms in the picture, eliciting a "dut-dut-dut!" from Finn when it looked as if she might touch it, "I can put an arrow through one. With a string on it."
"And when we pull back on the string, the arrow will turn longways and catch on the arm," Ariane nodded. "It's... a little risky. I don't like the idea of the Urn hanging from a thread over a river of lava."
"The map on the road-marker we found only showed the one bridge across this chasm," Finn said thoughtfully. "And we passed the ruins of that yesterday. There might not be a way across anymore."
Ariane sighed; the mage was right. "So we're going to lower you over the side until you can get a shot?" Vashti nodded. "Let me get the rope..."
In short order, they had rigged a harness for the Dalish archer and Ariane was slowly easing her into the chasm. "Enough! I see it!" the hunter called. Then, more quietly: "It is beautiful."
"And you are heavy!" Ariane shouted back. "We can admire it later, all right?"
The only response was the rope slowly twisting in her hands as Vashti shifted her weight to nock the specially-prepared arrow and draw. There was the familiar zip!and a clatter as the shaft hit stone. Vashti paused to check that the string was well-tied to her belt, and then she began to slowly, carefully pull it back in. Ariane could see the bottom of the urn edging forward, hear the grind of metal on stone.
She heard Finn's breath catch when the Urn went over the edge, and he flinched when it clanged into the rock wall behind the Warden. Ariane grimaced herself; it was painful to hear the precious artifact get slammed about, but it was said to be lyrium-infused veridium and should be able to withstand the rough handling. "All right!" she called down to Vashti. "Up you - "
The Grey Warden twitched suddenly, bow coming up as if to target enemies to their right. "Darkspawn!" she shouted. "A small band and close!"
Ariane cursed colorfully. "What do we do? What do we do?" Finn asked, looking rapidly between Vashti dangling below them and the darkness ahead. No longer still and silent, gutteral rasping voices and dangerous metallic sounds could be heard from within it.
"You hold this," Ariane decided suddenly, thrusting the rope at Finn, "and I kill them."
"But I... uh! She's... she's very heavy... Maker, I... Ariane - !"
"Do it, Finn!" she shouted, as the first hurlock emerged from the shadows, a lipless grin twisting its tainted features.
"I am the sword of my fathers!" Ariane's battle cry echoed off the stone walls as she charged the thing, blades in both her hands. Three solid blows and it was down, but two blackened shafts suddenly sprouted from her shoulder. Genlock archers - the thought flashed through her mind even as her left arm went numb and she dropped Rain of Petals. Normally, Vashti would have put arrows through their eyes by now, or Finn would have caught one in a glyph.
The archers were not far down the tunnel; five running steps and she could smash the bows out of their hands. But that would leave nothing between Finn and the remaining two hurlocks that were advancing. Ariane grimaced and tried to keep them between her and their archers.
She was accustomed to using two blades for attack and parry; with only one at her disposal, she found that she had to miss opportunities to strike to defend herself instead. She tried not to notice that it was frighteningly quiet behind her and focused on downing one hurlock and then the other.
An arrow took her in the thigh, just below the hem of her chain, and she staggered. Five running steps away... but they both had arrows trained on her. Swallowing, she raised her father's blade and -
Zip! Zip! Pale grey goose feathers bloomed in the throats of the genlocks. Their filthy hands reached up to claw uselessly at the ash shafts as they gurgled and fell to the floor. Ariane paused a moment, waiting to be sure that no more were coming, and she heard Vashti call out, "That's it. They're dead."
The Dalish warrior sagged, easing herself down to the ground to wait for help. "How are you?" Vashti asked, still well behind her. The distant clanking sounds seemed to indicate she was drawing the Urn up.
"Been better. Not dying in the next five minutes." Where was Finn? She should have heard him fussing and scolding by now. She craned her head to see what was going on.
Vashti was indeed reeling in the string, and as Ariane watched, the shining Urn came into view. It was beautiful, with elegant lines and proportions that whispered quiet secrets about the shape of life. The Grey Warden quickly put a hand on it and placed it safely beside Finn. The rope Ariane had handed him was wrapped once around his waist and clenched in one hand; the other was held somewhat apart, frozen in the final gesture of a spell.
"He's heavy enough," Vashti said, nodding at the larger human man, "but I don't think he could keep a grip on the rope. I climbed up once he got it secure."
"He paralyzed himself?" Ariane asked incredulously.
The glyph flared again as it died, and Finn stumbled backwards. "I paralyzed myself," he said proudly, recovering his balance. "My magic's stronger than my muscles, it seems."
Ariane laughed, although the sound was frayed at the edges. "Clever, ser mage," she said. "Now please... the bandages? And the poultices? I've taken three of their corrupted arrows and I want them out of me, now."
Now it's time for our heroes to return with their treasure to the new elven homeland in the Hinterlands, and the great fortress of Ostagar. Little do they suspect that someone is already there, eagerly awaiting a reunion with one of them...