Whispers
It is almost dawn. The air is chilly, snow is crunching under my boots as I make my way to the great hall. My palms are sweaty despite the cold and I feel my heart beating hard and heavy in my chest. I can hear the steps of the others beside and behind me. There are twelve of us.
My eyes dart left and right, trying to read from the look in their eyes, the expression on their faces how they are feeling. Are they afraid? Determined? Are they looking forward to what is coming?
I'm not sure because it is too dark to really see anything but the flickering torch light in front of us and so I give the attempt up soon enough.
I almost flinch when the doors to the Keep's main building open with a shrieking noise that sounds thrice as loud in the almost complete silence.
The yellow glow from the inside looks inviting. It makes me think of the entrance to the Golden City. Maybe that's what the magisters saw. Before they corrupted it all and turned it to dust and death.
Which might not be too far from the fate we are about to face ourselves.
The Joining.
To be honest, none of us knows very much about it. It is shrouded in mystery, as almost everything else surrounding the Grey Wardens. All we were told was that it is dangerous and could mean our death but that doesn't really deter me. I've been looking forward to this day for two years now.
Ever since the Commander and the Captain took me under their wings, I wanted to be one of the Grey. They gave me purpose, a home, a family. Things I thought I'd left behind for good when I boarded the ship in Kirkwall to take me to Ferelden. I want to make them proud, show them that their kindness and time invested in me were not in vain.
But despite that, my legs feel heavy, every step an effort, as I climb the stairs that are lined to each side with Wardens in full regalia. Their faces are blank, like cut from stone, their eyes never meeting mine or anyone else's. It is an impressive display. I know it is to honor what we are about to do but at the same time, it feels like we are being led to the gallows.
I swallow to get rid of the lump that tries to settle in my throat, rubbing my palms against the sides of my pants. The corridor seems longer than usual. As outside, everything is silent. I keep my eyes on the set of heavy doors behind which is our destination. They too, are flanked by two Wardens, their armor gleaming brightly in the light of their torches. As our party nears, they simultaneously open the wings, granting us entrance.
I am the first one to enter, my comrades following suit. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as the mood changes from subtle expectation to something else. Maybe it is the sight of the hall, decked in Warden colors and flags, or the sight of the Commander and Captain besides something that looks like an altar, their expressions somber and equally blank as the guards' outside.
I note a little baffled that I've never seen any of them in their full Warden armor before. For some reason, to do so now unsettles me.
I try to catch the Captain's eye but my mentor won't look at me as he takes a step forward, greeting us in a low voice, that nonetheless carries across the entirety of the hall. I always wonder how he does that, commanding such authority, catching everyone's attention without once raising his voice.
The lump in my throat I successfully got rid of before finally settles in and leaves me a little breathless.
"Marius."
I flinch when I hear my name. With some surprise, I find that I can't remember anything of what the Captain just said and that I also don't remember when he stopped talking.
"Step forward, recruit."
I do as asked even though my legs are suddenly quivering.
Finally, the Captain looks at me. For a split second there, I think to see the hint of a comforting smile on the older man's lips and it makes me stand up straighter, a little more confident, as I hold my superior's gaze.
"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant."
A chalice is presented to me. It looks worn and incredibly old. Something seems to be chiseled into its surface but I can't quite determine what it is supposed to be.
"Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn."
The liquid inside the chalice looks like the darkest night, black and impenetrable. The mere sight sends a shiver down my spine. It looks evil. I briefly wonder how a drink can look evil but I don't know if I really want to know so I shake the thought off and make a conscious effort to concentrate on the Captain's voice again as he keeps reciting what seems to be a ritual vow.
"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you."
This seems to be my cue to drink and I have to will myself to lift the cup to my mouth. Everything inside of me is repulsed by the idea of even touching the malicious concoction, never mind swallowing it. My skin is crawling with revulsion.
Turn it down. It's not too late, yet, you can still run.
Before the little, tempting voice in the back of my head can get any more convincing, I put the cool metal to my lips and gulp down the black liquid.
It is thick and oily like tar, tasting of rot and decay, somehow seeming to move in my mouth on its own accord. It makes me retch immediately but somehow, I manage not to spit it back out. My throat is burning like I just swallowed glowing embers; the feeling of movement still very much present, and it gets worse by the second, spreading into my chest, my arms, my head.
I can't breathe. My vision starts to swim, then goes dark. I am vaguely aware that I am falling, hitting the floor and then…
Falling….
Falling ever further into darkness.
The burning slowly subsides after a while, as does the sensation of having downed something sentient, but the absolute blackness remains. No matter how hard I try to penetrate it, I can't. There is no fix point, no landmark. There is no sound, either, and it drives me crazy. I try to scream but can't, try to do something to ease the panic that is threatening to take hold of my senses but to no avail.
My imagination starts playing tricks on my perception, making me see motion where there can be none, making me hear whispers. Hushed. Distant.
I tell myself that it isn't real but that doesn't help with the feeling that there is something there, anyway, just outside of reach, lurking.
As the whispers get louder, I hear something like a song entwining with them. It is tempting, hypnotizing, making my heart ache with a bittersweet longing. My very soul seems to respond to that melody, that call. I've never heard anything so wonderful in my life and I want to be near it, be enveloped in it, feeling like I cannot exist without it. It is impossible to resist.
But you have to.
There is that nagging feeling in the back of my head that this is not right, like an itch that demands to be scratched. I have no idea why that is for what could ever be wrong with something so beautiful? I try to shove the thought away but it won't be silenced.
You have to resist. It is important that you do!
The song in my head changes as I wonder about the why, taking on a slightly sour note.
It helps to clear my head a little and listen to my gut that is warning me not to fall for that siren's call.
Resist! Fight it! Your life depends on it!
That thought is clear as day and I know without a doubt that this is the truth.
I remember the Joining, the Captain, the black liquid that tastes like death and decay and that finally shatters the trance I am in like a mirror is shattered into a million pieces.
The melody becomes discordant and unconnected, sounding vicious now and angry. The whispers that had been a soft murmur in the back until now turn into voices.
Hundreds of them.
Thousands.
They are hissing, growling, cackling, shrieking. I can feel those voices in my head, like the song before, but alien and rotten to the core. They are eating me up to the point where I can't tell where they begin and I end, threatening to drown me in an ocean of noise and thought and perception, rising to a crescendo, a horrible cacophony hammering against the inside of my skull until I can barely take it anymore, digging, hacking, tearing away at my being.
I've never been in so much pain. Where the song touched my soul with its sweetness, it is now ripped apart by invisible claws, relentless and unyielding.
But you are stronger! Don't give up…
"… don't give up! Don't leave me hanging, boy, come on!"
I wake with a start, thrashing about like a madman, gasping for air, eyes wide but unseeing.
"Easy, lad, it's over," I hear a soothing voice close to me. "You've made it. It's over, Marius. You hear me?"
I nod but the words have not yet fully registered, fighting for attention with other realizations. I am no longer in that endless void. There is light. Air. Forms and colors. No more voices.
Thank the Maker, no more voices.
My body sacks back against whatever it is I am lying on and I feel myself tremble with both relief and the memory of the nightmare I went through.
"I've made it."
I barely recognize my own voice. It sounds strained and thin and tiny, full of terror. My tongue has difficulty wrapping around those three simple words and there is a foul taste in my mouth.
My stomach turns and I throw up onto the floor below me, my sweaty hands grabbing the edge of a cot until my knuckles turn white.
There are hands around my shoulders, strong and steady, holding me in place until I am done retching and heaving.
The touch helps grounding me in reality again and after a while, I am able to look up, meeting my mentor's gaze.
He looks a little haggard. There seem to be a few more lines on his face than only some hours ago. The expression in his eyes is relieved but I can see worry there as well. And grief.
"How many?" I whisper. I don't really want to know but I have to ask.
The Captain sighs, runs a wary hand over his forehead, shoulders sagging. My heart sinks with that show of defeat.
"Seven."
That one word hovers in the silence between us like a fat spider in the middle of its net, ready to strike.
And when it does, I am utterly unprepared for it.
Seven.
My throat closes up and tears spring to my eyes as a heavy weight settles in the pit of my stomach. I don't know who of my comrades didn't make it but I don't need to in order to morn their passing.
We've been like brothers for the past two years. We trained together, drank together, lived together. We knew each other like only family does.
And now more than half of them are gone.
"Was it worth it?"
The question sounds bitter and probably more than a little accusing but I can't keep my tongue in check in my grief.
"You knew the risk. All of you. You knew there was a chance you won't come out of the Joining a Warden." The look in the Captain's grey eyes is hard as steel but his voice is strangely subdued, almost lenient, as he says that. "But no. No, it's never worth it. Still… it is necessary."
I let that sink in, knowing he is right. It doesn't make it any easier, though.
He squeezes my shoulder, telling me to rest, before he leaves the room, no doubt to look for the others who survived their Joining. I don't keep him even though I want to. I don't want to be alone with my thoughts, my memories, and that is what drives me from the room as well only a few minutes later.
I'm still a little wobbly on my feet. My head feels as if I drank the night away at the tavern but I can't make myself stay put. Rest won't come to me, anyway.
It is almost dusk. The air is chilly, snow is crunching under my boots as I make my way to the courtyard. My palms are sweaty despite the cold and I feel my heart beating hard and heavy in my chest. I can hear no steps beside and behind me this time. There are seven bodies lined up on the ground, covered in shrouds.
My eyes travel over them, lingering on every single one as I whisper a heartfelt prayer for their souls, ending with the words that now hold so much more meaning than they did when I first heard them.
"And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you."