The dark rising spire of Kinloch Hold could be seen for leagues on any side of it, but Kahrin knew very few people who had actually been there. The top was almost invisible through the dense fog, and standing on the gentle downward slope of grass leading towards the docks, Kahrin felt incredibly small. Odd, she'd been small her whole life, but only just now did she feel it.

Boots and greaves made soft smooshing noises on the damp grass as they stepped cautiously towards the dock. Apart from that the only audible sounds were the soft scraping of she and Alistair's plates and the gentle creaking of Morrigan and Leliana's leather.

"It's so quiet," Kahrin said softly. She had no way of knowing one way or the other if this was unusual, but there weren't even animals or birds making any noise.

"That doesn't bode well," Alistair's face pulled into a knowing frown.

Morrigan stopped with her hands placed firmly on her hips and glared at the Tower rising up out of the center of the lake as if it had told her that she had her mother's nose. "T'would figure that a bunch of men decided to make their mage-prison a giant phallus in the middle of a lake. I am stunned by the irony."

"Thank you for coming with us, Morrigan." Kahrin meant it, though the two of them barely spoke to one another since leaving the swamp. The Witch intimidated Kahrin somewhat, having never been around one before. She'd never really known any mages. There were mages in Highever, but mostly just healers. Most noble families she knew employed a mage for such things as illness and childbirth. The Howes had one who taught the boys about herbs and things.

"As if I had any choice," she frowned. "Your meaning is understood, though." She flexed her arms in the leather armour, uncomfortable with the binding nature of it. They had reasoned that it would be best if Morrigan didn't go in dressed like she'd tripped out of the Wilds.

Kahrin gave her a slightly sidelong glance. "We're not going to leave you here, Morrigan. I promised your mother our protection. I know you don't have any reason to-"

"I am not worried," she interrupted Kahrin. "I have no plans to allow myself to be chained to any Circle. Not now, not ever."

"Understood," Kahrin nodded once, reaffirming her promise to the woman with a hard look before walking down to the dock.

The templar at the end of the docks started prattling at them before they were halfway across the dock. Alistair pulled Kahrin aside by the arm and lowered his voice for only her to hear.

"He reeks of lyrium … be … careful."

"Be careful of what?" Kahrin looked first at his grasp on her arm and then up at his concerned expression, her tattoo wrinkling across her brow. "I'm a big girl, Alistair, I sew my own smalls and everything."

He sighed with that special hint of exasperation he seemed to save just for her. "I'm going to ask you about that later," he said, dipping his voice a bit lower, before clearing his throat and continuing on. "What I mean is that templars who are lyrium addled, they are sometimes unpredictable."

"Duly noted, Alistair. Should I keep a man's distance between us, or is it all right to get close enough to speak?" She twisted her arm free, then sighed, looking at him again. "I didn't mean …"

"I know. Just be careful."

"I need you to take us across the lake," Kahrin didn't wait for the templar to stop ranting, and spoke directly to him. "Now."

"Oh, no," he sliced his hand through the air. "No. I was given strict orders not to let anyone across, and that's what I am going to do. Not let anyone across."

Kahrin and Alistair exchanged glances and she rolled her eyes. There were times to dance around who they were and times to be upfront about it.

"We're Grey Wardens. We have a treaty obli-"

"Oh! You're Grey Wardens, are you? Uh-huh." He crossed his arms across the Sword of Mercy and gave them a skeptical look, as if everyone went around these days claiming to be the ones who supposedly killed the King. "Prove it."

"Prove it?" Kahrin's eyes widened in disbelief, her first instinct to shove the man off the dock and into the lake. A hand on the small of her back stopped her from her impulse, and even she wasn't sure if she'd have done it if Alistair hadn't reacted, tired as she'd been lately.

"That's right! Let me see some righteous Grey Wardening."

"Righteous Grey … what?" Now she really wanted to shove him off the dock. They would probably need him, though, and she forced that impulse from her mind.

"Go on, kill some darkspawn, let me see you in action." His face was completely serious. He was either very good at his job, or very stupid, she reasoned.

"There are no darkspawn around to kill," she ran a hand down her face and heard Morrigan let out a snicker in the back.

"Oh, very convenient. Well, then I guess you can't get across."

"I have these treaties and I need to show them to-"

"Oh! Why didn't you say you have a piece of paper. I have a piece of paper that says I'm the Queen of Antiva. You are still not getting across." He said it with such finality that Alistair moved his arm across the front of her as if he could read the murderous intent she was choking back.

"Look," he said mildly to the templar, "I know Knight-Commander Gregoir. I know that he is going to be rather angry if we don't bring these to him and he finds out it was because you turned us away."

Alistair's name-dropping seemed to hit home with the templar. He pulled his lips into a tight line, then frowned slightly. He gestured at the boat behind him.

"All right, all right, we don't need any of that then. In the boat you lot."

Once they were all settled he pushed off from the dock and began the excruciatingly hours-long trip across Lake Calenhad to the docking area under the Tower. Kahrin sat at the front of the boat, an arm wrapped around the prow while watching the silent fortress get closer. The quiet was so eerie, as if this was a place where life didn't thrive, as if it wasn't teeming with mages inside.

"There are stories," Leliana sat close to her and spoke softly near her ear making small goose-flesh rise, "that the waters of Lake Calenhad glow red in the sunset, reflecting the blood of those mages who submitted themselves to death rather than face the chance that they might fail the tests ahead of them."

Kahrin looked her in her bright blue eyes and frowned. "That's a coward's way out," she said softly. She couldn't imagine being driven to a point where giving up living seemed like the answer. She had made a promise to live, and she never went back on her promises, she thought with resolute stubbornness and a sickness in her belly. She took a deep breath as the templar docked the boat finally.

Following him out of the boat, Alistair leaned in to pull Leliana up to the stone platform, then pulled a face and reached to assist Morrigan in kind. She pushed past him and hopped stiffly in the leather disguise that Leliana had put together for her. Kahrin accepted the help gladly, the gap between the boat and the platform too wide for her legs to manage safely. She stepped on the edge of the boat and clasped his forearm as he pulled her over. The boat rocked slightly, sending her slightly forward and nearly slipping. He caught her against himself, pulling them both away from the edge and for the space of just one heart beat they stood frozen.

"Right, well, be careful. All that armour … you'd sink straight to the bottom," he let her go and rubbed the back of his head.

Kahrin cleared her throat and pulled a hand through her hair, fidgeting around and tying it up. "Yes. Thank you." She walked away from him before he could see her tan cheeks redden slightly.

Even the climb to the main floor was seemingly endless, the stairs spiraled on forever, some of them so small and worn slick that Alistair had to step sideways to get decent purchase with is boots, as did Leliana with her long limbs and narrow feet. Kahrin and Morrigan skipped rather lightly up the stairs ahead of them, though Kahrin was slightly winded by the time they made it into the vast entrance doors.

"Ser Carroll, I thought I told you not to bring anyone across," the man in highly polished plate and a salt and pepper beard chastised their escort. "What is the meaning of this?"

Before he could speak in his own defense, Kahrin stepped to the front, the treaty clutched tightly in her hands. "We have business with the First-Enchanter," she set her chin and looked him straight in the eyes, not willing to be cowed by his height or air of authority.

"And who might you be?" he looked down on her, literally and with a face that clearly said he had no intention of hearing what she had to say.

"We're Grey Wardens, and this treaty obliga-"

"I grow weary of the Grey Warden's constant demand for mages. I will not send any more to help." There was a tiredness in his tone that made the niggling feeling she'd had since overhearing the gossip in Lothering grow.

"Well then I suppose you can fight the Blight yourself," she said with a bit of bitterness.

"Knight-Commander," Alistair spoke up slightly reverently, "we need to speak to the First-Enchanter. These treaties are commitments and not to be broken so lightly."

Gregoir ran a gauntleted hand down his beard. "Even so, the First-Enchanter isn't available to assist you, and my men can not be spared. I am afraid you have come at a rather inopportune time." He gestured to a set of large and heavy doors that were barred shut and guarded by two helmed templars. "We are in the middle of dealing with an incident."

So the gossip had been true. "What's going on here?" Kahrin demanded, her patience wearing away.

"We are dealing with an infestation of abominations. We've had to seal the doors. I've sent to Denerim for the Rite of Annulment," he tossed words around casually as if expecting her to just understand. "I've not heard anything back, but I expect it to be any day now."

"Meaning?" she shook her head at him, holding her own gauntleted hand out, palm up, for more explanation.

Alistair spoke softly and his eyebrows shot up in disbelief. "I hadn't realized it was that bad."

"That … sounds bad," Kahrin looked between the two men. She didn't know what a Rite of Annulment was, but she was familiar enough with the word 'abomination'. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Alistair ventured to explain. "That the mages are a bit "grrr … argh …" at the moment, and the Knight-Commander here has deemed them beyond saving." He held up his finger and made one chase the other to accompany his sound effects.

"So they just … locked them all in there? What if some of them are-"

Alistair shook his head a bit sadly. She remembered his story of the only Harrowing he'd stood watch over, and knew that it weighed on him. He wouldn't take this lightly.

"My templars are in there, also. I've lost a lot of good men to this already. I can not justify sending more. We will wait it out until the Rite arrives."

She felt a bit of panic rising as she searched her brother Warden's brown eyes, wanting him to tell her he was kidding, then looked back to the Knight-Commander, blinking. They were as serious as a funeral pyre.

"I need an army. We need help fighting this Blight," she chewed on her lower lip a moment, and then pulled herself up as tall as all five feet and one inch of her would stretch. She didn't like the way the Knight-Commander looked at her, dismissing her out of hand with one look. "If we help you clear out your abominations, will you help us?"

"Kahrin, are you sure?" Alistair grasped her shoulder.

"We need help. If the mages are a lost cause, then we need someone." Keeping the desperation out of her voice was more difficult that she'd anticipated.

Gregoir looked at her skeptically, clearly writing them off as dead before they passed the door. "If you did that for us, then I would be in your debt. You must know, however, that once you go in there, there is no coming out. Not unless you bring the First-Enchanter himself with his word that everything is safe will I open the doors for you."

"As I remember," Alistair started drolly, "locking the doors and throwing away the key was definitely Plan B."

"I remember you," Gregoir narrowed his eyes. "The First-Enchanter, and nothing else will ensure me that things are as handled."

"Then let's do this," Kahrin rolled her shoulders. They needed troops. They had little choice but to offer assistance if she expected help in return.

"Should we not try to see if there are any survivors?" Leliana asked quietly from the back. "We can't just go in and kill everyone we see."

"If we find survivors," Kahrin was more resolute now, "we will deal with them then. We can't let abominations out. That would be a disaster."

They followed Gregoir to the massive doors and then stood back as he commanded the templars on guard to open them. The giant bar was slid out of place and the doors pulled back while one templar stood with a greatsword at the ready.

The floor not twenty paces in front of them was littered with bodies, sending a bit of a shudder up Kahrin's spine with memories. They looked amongst themselves, Kahrin finally meeting Alistair's face with a nod just before they crossed the threshold.

The hallway stank of death and charred meat that immediately made Kahrin want to retch, and for a moment she was pulled into a vision of her brother's chambers weeks ago. So trapped in the memory was she that the slamming of the doors behind them made her jump slightly.

They were in it now, for better or for worse.

Pulling her swords they began their trek, stepping carefully around the slaughtered mages and templars as they walked.