Title: Forged In Fire
Rating: M (for violence and language)
Warnings: none
Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.
Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.
Second Note: I would like to warn everyone that I've been struggling to write while at university, so we'll be finishing the work I've already written by Christmas. After that I can make no promises as to speed of updates, unfortunately. I'm really very sorry!
Chapter 10 – The Breath Before the Plunge
Your eyes meet mine,
A shiver of warmth runs up my spine,
Then you turn, and he looks my way,
And I don't know what to say
∞ An extract from 'The Story of Lady Yelanda', an Orlesian bard song
Over two weeks later, Elissa was shivering in the pouring rain. Cold water beat down hard against her dark green oilskin cloak, and seeped into the hood to drench her face and hair. The biting wind coming off Lake Calenhad turned the rain to icy fire running along her skin and chilled her to the bone. Grey, miserable clouds blanketed the heavens, and a dreary fatigue permeated the group of travellers.
"This is utterly stupid," Alistair muttered.
"Tis only rain," Morrigan retorted. "You will not melt, Alistair." Unlike the others, she wasn't wearing a cloak. She seemed undeterred by the rain, even reveling in the water droplets sliding down her face.
Alistair spluttered. "No, that'd be you."
"Tis a fool who believes in that old tale," Morrigan snipped.
"Witches of the Wild are only tales," he reminded her. "Yet here you are."
They topped a rise, and Elissa came to a halt. Her upraised hand stopped the others in their tracks, ending the squabble. White stone pillars marched down the hill on either side of the stony path, towards the edge of Lake Calenhad. Through the grey haze, the water looked still and lifeless where it washed up against the base of the massive white tower rising hundreds of feet into the air. Closer up, she knew, the sheer glass of the lake would reveal the thousands of rain drops hitting its surface and perhaps even a glimpse of an underwater animal or two. "We're almost there," she called.
"Here's to hoping the tavern is decent," Alistair grumbled.
"It's fine," Leliana said in exasperation.
She led the way down the muddy slope, trying desperately not to slip and tumble. While much quicker, it was not her preferred method of getting down there. In the distance, she glimpsed the shine of silver armour out on the dock.
A stone and wood two story building was tucked away at the side of the road at the bottom of the hill. The wooden sign outside proclaimed it an inn, just as Leliana had promised when she'd first told them of it a couple of days before. They could stay the night here before moving on and crossing the lake in the morning.
Elissa pushed open the heavy wood door, made slippery by the rain. A blast of warm, dry air hit her face, carrying with it the smell of baked bread and spiced stew. Her mouth watered. The tavern common room was dimly lit, and only a handful of tables were occupied. A low murmur of chatter filled the room, coming largely from a group of half-drunk men in the corner, mercenaries to judge by their well-worn armour and swords. The rest of the room was largely quiet, the handful of scattered travellers minding their own drinks and business. In the corner, a figure cloaked in dark green looked up at their entrance. A matronly woman balanced two pints of ale and a plate in her hands as she made her way back to the kitchens. Behind the bar, a grumpy looking man watched over the room with a proprietary, hawkish eye. His once-white tunic was now a dull grey-brown, but he himself was scrubbed clean.
The innkeeper, for that was what he was, turned towards the sound of the door closing. His beady eyes swept across the group dripping on his wooden floors, and then he hurried forward. "Good day, and welcome to the Spoiled Princess, sers. Sit and I will be with you."
Elissa pulled off her cloak, revealing dark red hair. Wet as it was, it clung to her forehead and cheeks. "Do you have rooms available tonight?"
He ushered them towards a corner table. "Indeed I do. How many rooms were you wanting?"
"How much for the night?" Elissa countered.
"For you, ser, four silvers per room," the innkeeper offered. "Comes with breakfast of honey porridge, or cheese and bread."
"Cheese!" Alistair said excitedly.
She ignored him, and raised an eyebrow. "For that price, I would expect a room in the palace with a sea view," she exaggerated. "Two silvers."
The innkeeper shook his head sadly. "I have a family to feed and we get so few visitors in this direction. Three silvers."
"Five silvers, twenty-five coppers for two rooms," she bargained.
He looked uncertainly at the group, and then sighed. "Yes, ser. Shall I show you to your rooms or would you be wanting dinner now?"
Elissa glanced at her bedraggled companions. "Rooms first, I think."
An hour later they were back in the common room, dry and changed. Morrigan had objected to sharing a room initially, but had acquiesced to sharing with Elissa when it was pointed out that renting another room for the night meant less money for a good meal that night. Alistair and Leliana were sharing the other room, despite Alistair's clear trepidation.
"Beef stew an' bread is six coppers, th' roas' chicken with potato is seven coppers. Ale is four coppers, and th' wine is five," the serving woman told them.
After two weeks of game stew, generally whatever Morrigan had hunted down, and the two weeks before of dried foods on the trip south with Duncan, chicken and potato sounded like heaven. "The chicken, and wine," she said quickly.
As the others ordered, Elissa glanced around the tavern. The same people from earlier were still there, seeking refuge from the rain which was thundering against the creaky roof. A leak in the corner of the tavern dripped slowly into a metal bucket. Her gaze was drawn back to the concealed figure in the corner. Although he wasn't quite as concealed now. The hood was thrown back, revealing lightly browned skin, black hair and piercing blue eyes. Abruptly, he unfolded himself from his wooden bench and moved across the floor towards their group. Elissa nudged Morrigan to get her attention, and let her hand slide down to rest on the hilt of the dagger strapped to her waist. Leliana was already watching him from the corner of her eye, despite seeming to be holding a conversation with the oblivious Alistair.
He came to a stop beside the table.
"Excuse me." His voice was an educated light tenor.
"Yes?" she answered warily.
Alistair finally fell silent, realizing they weren't alone.
"You're the Grey Warden." It was a statement, not a question.
Her eyes narrowed, and the tension at the table ratcheted up a notch. She opened her mouth to deny it.
He cut her off. "Before you say anything, I saw your friend's shield."
Alistair's shield? She frowned in confusion. What did that have to do with anything?
The man in question groaned. "Of course. The Grey Warden shield Duncan gave me."
Elissa felt like hitting him…or herself. How could they have missed that? It was a dead giveaway to anyone who so much as looked at them. Her hand tightened on the dagger. A glance to the side showed Alistair subtly sliding towards the edge of the bench, his grip on his sword hilt turning his knuckles white. Morrigan's hand was inching towards her staff.
The other man took in the movement at a glance, and instantly held his empty hands up. "I mean you no harm," he said quickly.
Alistair scoffed. "You think us to fools to believe that?"
"I am no soldier. I don't work for the Teyrn," he insisted.
"He speaks the truth," Morrigan announced, "at least about the solider part. He is a mage."
"A mage?" Elissa echoed.
The witch shrugged. "Tis relatively simple for one of us to recognize another."
He looked surprised. "You do not feel like a mage."
"I know how to shield." She arched an eyebrow at him.
"So do I," he protested.
"Not well enough, clearly," Morrigan sneered.
He looked about to say something, and then changed his mind. "As I said before, you are the Grey Warden aren't you?"
The game was up, she supposed. "Yes."
A wide grin split across his face. "Thank the Maker! I'm Roald, and I've been looking for you, mistress." He stepped to the side as the serving woman returned to the table to distribute the drinks.
Elissa handed over the handful of coppers. "You've been looking for me?" she repeated, dubiously. Why would a mage be looking for her, unless it was on Loghain's orders? How did he even know she was alive, given that it was barely two weeks since Ostagar and they'd only been through Lothering.
He waited till the serving woman was gone, and then explained, "I came through Lothering the day you left. The townsfolk were all talking about you. When I heard you were a Warden, well, I approached my superiors about seeing if you could help us. They gave me permission to find you, and here I am." He spread his arms.
"Help you how?" she eyed him.
"I represent a collective of mages who seek to go about their business free from the Chantry's scrutiny."
Elissa wrapped her hands around the mug of wine. "Isn't that against the Chantry law?"
"We harm no one I assure you, and we enforce the Chantry's laws among ourselves. All we seek is life outside of the Templars' shadow."
"What does this have to do with us?"
"In every major settlement, you'll find an inconspicuous bag with requests from mages all over the land who need the assistance of someone skilful and discreet."
"And you want us to help these mages?"
"Yes. You will be rewarded of course. We have agents in every settlement to reward you for your work."
"Why us?" The bitter wine stung her throat as it slid down.
"As I said, you are a Warden. Wardens have the…reputation, of not being so Chantry-bound. I thought you might be…willing to help us,"
Elissa suppressed a snort. Not so Chantry-bound. He may as well have said that Wardens have the reputation of being willing to do illegal things. It wasn't an unfair reputation, she knew. They did any and everything to stop the Blight, whether or not it was legal or even moral. Duncan had made that quite clear.
Leliana leaned forward. "And it doesn't hurt that if we betray you, you could always turn around and give us to Loghain, does it?"
The mage said nothing.
Elissa glanced at the others for their opinions.
"Are we to help every random stranger then?" Morrigan's lips twisted in a sneer. "First in Lothering, and now here? You have already agreed to help one set of fools who cannot find their own heads."
Yes, the Blackstone Irregulars in Lothering. A very well-known group of mercenaries who'd offered them small jobs across Ferelden in exchange for money. She'd agreed to help them more in memory of her father, who'd fought alongside the Irregulars during the rebellion, than anything else, and now had a couple of jobs she'd be able to collect funds for as and when they completed them.
"It is a source of money," Alistair murmured. "And we'll need that for supplies if we can't get to the Compound in Denerim."
"I'll see what I can do," Elissa told the mage.
He looked relieved. "Thank you my friend." He fumbled in his cloak, and withdrew a small cloth bag. He opened the drawstrings and offered it to her. "I have some requests in here for you to see. Accept what you like, and return the rest to me. I'll be over in the corner when you're done."
She took it, and pulled out several sheets of parchment. "What do you think?" She offered them to Morrigan. "You'll know better than I how difficult these are."
The witch sighed heavily, but accepted the parchment.
A thump on the table drew Elissa's attention. The serving woman was back, balancing plates. A roughly hewn plate landed in front of her, with a pair of chicken thighs, three small potatoes and chunks of carrot covered in a heavy dark-brown gravy. A similar plate was presented to Leliana and Morrigan, but Alistair had elected for the bowl of slightly thin beef stew with hunks of bread floating in it.
The woman tossed a large beef bone to Duke, and then turned towards Elissa, wiping her hands on her apron. "Thirty-two coppers, ser."
Elissa counted out the coins, cringing slightly as she watched the coins deplete again. Hopefully the Circle would provide them with some supplies that she didn't need to pay for.
Nearly two hours later, Elissa slipped out of the tavern unnoticed. The rain had stopped and the clouds cleared, although the ground was still muddy. The crescent moon shone down, turning the water black and silver. The night air was cold and heavy with the lingering traces of the day's rain. Morrigan was standing at the edge of the lake, looking out over the wide expanse towards the Circle of Magi. Quietly, Elissa approached her and then stood silently at her side.
"How typical. A giant phallic symbol." Morrigan spoke seemingly to herself. Then she was silent for a long moment before she murmured, "Tis…odd to think that I might have lived here."
"Do you…wish to?" Elissa asked, carefully. It did not sound like Morrigan to want that, but…
She snorted. "To be locked up in that tower forever, waiting for the Templars to kill me, forbidden to learn anything even remotely interesting? No, I am exceedingly glad I am not. Still, I wonder at times." She was quiet for a moment. "I told you about the games my mother and I used to play to avoid the Templars. But I did not tell you there was a time when they almost caught me."
Elissa's eyes widened.
"I was but a child, maybe four or five. And I did not run fast enough, or perhaps I was not quiet enough. It was a game to me, so I did not take it so seriously. They found me in a tree where I was hiding," Morrigan admitted. "Mother had to come and save me." She stared up at the tower again. "So, this was almost my home, for as long as I would have survived."
"Survived?"
Morrigan laughed dryly. "I was born free, Elissa. I would never submit to the trap that these fools bow to every day. I would have kept trying to escape, until I won my freedom or the Templars killed me."
"You prefer being an apostate, then? Being hunted instead of being trapped?"
"Would I not have given myself up already, if I did not?" she wanted to know. Then she said slowly, "it is true there are times I wish I did not have to hide. But I will not give up my freedom for a cage."
"You said earlier that mages can sense each other," Elissa said. "Tomorrow…when we go there…are you going to be safe?"
Morrigan waved a hand dismissively. "Unlike these idiots, I know how to shield myself from both Templar and mage alike. And Mother has layered spells onto my staff, to convince them it is not there. They will not know what I am."
"Are you going to be okay to enter? We could leave you here," Elissa suggested.
The witch shook her head. "I am not scared of them. And if I were to remain, who would bring the voice of reason to our group. The puppy? Or the Chantry sister? I think not."
"I assume the puppy is Alistair, and not Duke?" Elissa said.
"Duke is a war dog," Morrigan sniffed. "He has proven his worth. Alistair, I have yet to see his teeth."
"Is that why you taunt him so much?"
"I taunt him because he's an idiot," she said callously.
"He's not an idiot," Elissa protested.
"He fell over his own feet this morning getting out of his tent," Morrigan retorted.
Elissa smothered a smile. "I didn't know you saw that."
"I didn't. I heard it. Besides which, the boy is so innocent and naïve it makes me sick."
"He's very sweet," Elissa defended him.
Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Tis just what we need to fight the Blight. A sweet boy. Shall we send him to reason with the darkspawn? They will surely agree to go back underground then. Or perhaps he could tell his jokes, and make them all die with laughter?"
"That is just cruel," Elissa scolded the mage.
She arched an eyebrow. "And your point is?"
Elissa shook her head. "All right, all right. Just, if you could cut back on it a little?"
"We'll see," Morrigan said ungraciously.
"Thank you." Elissa offered her a warm smile. She shivered in the cold night air. "I'm getting cold. I'll see you inside later, yes?"
"Yes, yes." The witch flapped her hand.
Grinning to herself, Elissa headed back for the warmth of the tavern.
"What do you mean we can't go across?" Elissa demanded.
The templar on the dock stared back at her with arms crossed. "Exactly what it sounds like. I am under orders not to let anyone into the Tower."
"But I…" She considered his expression and then changed tack. "Why? What's happened?"
"None of your business."
Elissa's eyes goggled. "None of my business? I want to get to the Tower and you're not letting me, and you say it's none of my business why?" They had to get inside, to the mages. Otherwise this whole trip up had been a waste. They needed the allies.
"The Tower is off limits, and there is nothing more I have to say on the matter," he announced pompously.
"I have documents that compel the Circle to help me," Elissa tried.
"Like what?" he demanded.
"Grey Warden documents."
"You're claiming to be a Grey Warden? Well, I have documents that say I'm the Queen of Antiva. What do you say to that?" he jeered.
"Aren't queens female?" Elissa retorted.
"He fits the part then, doesn't he?" Morrigan drawled.
Leliana laughed.
He spluttered and turned bright red.
"Look," Elissa said tiredly. "I have papers to prove I'm a Grey Warden and that means that the Circle has to help me. If they don't, they're in breach of their treaty obligations. Now, which do you think will make your superior more angry? If you take me across the lake so that if he sends me away, it's his own fault, or if you turn me away here, and you break the treaty with the Wardens?"
The Templar looked confused for a moment. "If I break the treaty, of course."
"Well then." She looked at him expectantly.
His brow furrowed. "What?"
Elissa barely refrained from rolling her eyes. "Don't you think you'd better take me across then?"
"But…" And then it clicked. "Oh! Yes, of course. Right this way."
It took them nearly three, uncomfortable hours to cross the lake to the Tower. So it was late morning by the time Elissa was climbing out of the wooden boat and onto land again.
"I still can't believe you haven't been sailing before. Where did you grow up?" She held out her hand to help the green-faced Alistair from the boat.
"The Chantry." He clutched his stomach. "They don't exactly encourage us to do adventurous things." He leaned over suddenly, and his stomach heaved. Elissa jumped out of the way, barely avoiding the projectile vomit that splattered into the lake. The smell rose up, and she screwed up her nose.
"It's not fair," Alistair grumbled as he straightened. "None of you are sick."
"I grew up on the edge of the Waking Sea," Elissa told him. "We used to go sailing often." She patted his back, and offered him one of the water-skins. He gave her a grateful smile, and tipped the skin back. He rinsed his mouth out, and then offered it to back to her.
She slipped it back onto the hook on her belt. She glanced at her companions. "Ready?"
She pushed open the heavy doors at the base of the immense tower. The doors opened into a large stone room, intricately carved and decorated, with a giant stone pillar coming up through the middle. Nearly a dozen wounded Templars stood around the room, talking softly. On the far side, an armoured figure was lying down and groaning, seemingly in pain. Another Templar knelt beside him. She couldn't see a single mage.
Her attention was drawn to the middle of the room, where a tall Templar was giving instructions to two others standing in front of him: "…want two men stationed within sight of the door at all times. Do not open the doors without my express consent, understand?"
"Yes ser." The one on the right saluted.
"The doors are barred," Alistair said in a hushed tone. "Are they keeping people out or in?"
She glanced across to pair of giant double doors, which were indeed closed and barred. Two guards stood on either side of it, watching it warily as though it might attack them at any moment.
She led the way towards the man who appeared to be in charge. "You're Knight-Commander Greagoir, I assume?" Silently she thanked Brother Aldous for drilling her in the names of major figures in Ferelden, including the Knight-Commander who watched over the Tower.
He spun, his armour clanking at the movement. He scowled. "Who are you? I explicitly told Carrol not to bring anyone across the lake." The grey eyes he turned on her were dull, despite the strength in his voice. He was in his late forties, perhaps, but with deeper stress lines engraved into his forehead and around his eyes that made him look older. Exhaustion, tempered by determination, seemed to pour off him in waves, and an underlying sadness lingered under that.
"I am Elissa." She offered him her hand. "Don't blame him, I convinced him to bring us across."
His handshake was perfunctory. "Whatever you are here for, I don't care. We are dealing with a very delicate situation. You must leave, for your own safety."
She took a breath. "I am a Grey Warden, and I seek the mages' help to defeat the darkspawn. I cannot leave until I have it."
Greagoir's eyes flickered to Alistair's shield, and he snorted. "The Grey Wardens all died at Ostagar, save one. And she would be bold indeed to admit her identity when there is a bounty for her capture."
She felt, more than saw, Alistair shift his weight behind her. "What reason would I have to lie?" Elissa wanted to know. "For exactly those reasons, it would be stupid."
"And that is the only reason I haven't tossed you straight back on that boat you somehow convinced Caroll to bring you across on," he retorted, meeting her eyes squarely.
"I have the treaties that obligate the mages to aid the Grey Wardens during a Blight." She held her hand out. A moment later Alistair slipped a sheaf of parchment into her hands.
Greagoir didn't even look at them. "I am weary of the Grey Wardens ceaseless need for more men to fight the darkspawn."
Elissa opened her mouth to argue.
He held up a hand. "But regardless of my feelings, if you are indeed the Warden, you will find no allies here. The Templars are busy and the mages are…indisposed."
"Indisposed?" Elissa repeated.
A wave of pain crossed the older man's features. "I shall speak plainly: the tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the Tower halls. The Circle is lost."
"What?" Alistair breathed.
Elissa stared, stunned. "H-how did this happen?" she croaked.
"We don't know." The knight-commander spread his gauntleted hands. "One moment everything was calm, then suddenly there was chaos and we saw only demons hunting mages and Templars alike. I realized we could not defeat them, and told my men to flee."
Demons. Elissa shivered in revulsion. Her skin prickled, and she could almost feel the slimy hands sliding down her arms. She shoved the memories away, back into the tiny part of her mind where she'd locked them long ago. It's not here, she told herself firmly. That demon is dead.
"You should have fought them, then. Isn't that the role of Templars?" Morrigan sneered.
Greagoir ignored the tone and turned towards the dark-haired witch. "It is. But they took us by surprise. We were prepared for one or two abominations – not the horde that descended upon us." His shoulders slumped a little further. "We barely made it out the door."
"Templars are trained to kill mages, but enough of them and they will be overwhelmed," Alistair explained quietly. He looked back up at Greagoir. "What is your plan then?"
"I would destroy the tower, raze it to the ground, but I cannot risk more of my men," the Templar said grimly. "Thus, the doors remain shut and they will protect us for now."
Elissa's eyes widened. "You shut everyone in there? Including innocent mages? With demons?"
Her fingers and palms tingled with a ghost-like pain, in memory of shredded four-year-old fingers that had scrabbled fruitlessly against the barred door in the cottage, leaving bloody handprints on the wood that remained long after she'd lost consciousness. It had taken months for her to be able to even tolerate a closed door.
His face darkened. "Not just mages but my Templars also," he snapped. "I had no choice. The abominations must be contained at all costs." He sighed. "We do not mean for the doors to remain shut forever. I have sent word to Denerim for reinforcements, and for the Rite of Annulment."
She frowned. The phrase was familiar, and she'd definitely heard it before. But she couldn't quite place it. "Rite of Annulment?"
"The Rite of Annulment gives the Templars the authorization to neutralize the Circle of Magi," Greagoir's face was blank. "Completely."
Her jaw dropped. "You would kill innocents?" her voice cracked.
"Tis what Templars do best," Morrigan spat.
Elissa winced as Greagoir's lips tightened until they were nearly white. "Morrigan," she said sharply. "Enough." She glared at the witch. Morrigan stared back at her insolently.
Greagoir didn't look happy as he turned back. "Those left in there are probably already dead, or worse. Any abominations remaining in there must be dealt with no matter what."
"It is an extreme solution, is it not?" Elissa asked carefully. He was talking wholesale murder, slaughtering the dozens of mages and Templars who'd been trapped in the Tower.
"The situation is dire," he said flatly. "There is no alternative - everything in that Tower must be destroyed so that it can be made safe. If even one abomination were to escape, far more people than simply the occupants of this tower would die."
"There must be another way," Leliana broke in. "I cannot believe that the only way is to murder every mage."
"Killing abominations is not murder," Greagoir retorted. "If there was another way, do you not think I would have taken it? There are only abominations and demons left in this tower. No-one could have survived those monstrous creatures. It is too painful to hope for survivors and then…" He set his jaw. "No, there is no other way. I do not have the men to go through the Tower and search out the abominations, while keeping guard over the door to prevent any from escaping."
"So the mages are all locked away within. A fitting end for those who gave up their freedom," Morrigan said under her breath.
Greagoir showed no sign of having heard her, thank the Maker. It was as though Morrigan wanted to be discovered as an apostate while surrounded by Templars.
Elissa forced herself to look at this practically. She needed the mages help against the darkspawn. The stories were all clear that mage support went a long way against the darkspawn. Even only a handful would be useful. But in order to get that, she had to somehow convince this stick-in-the-mud to rescue any mages that survived.
"How long has it been since you sent to Denerim? When will the Rite arrive?"
"It has been seven days, and it worries me," he admitted. "The civil war has no doubt caused much turmoil. Has the Chantry been caught up in it? I can only guess."
Elissa considered that. "A week. Then your message would just have arrived, if it even has yet."
It would take the Chantry at least that long to march back to the Tower. But that only bought them seven days.
"We sent our fastest messenger. Denerim should have received our message. It will not be long now."
That didn't give them very much time, then.
"Elissa, can I talk to you for a moment?" Alistair said suddenly.
She smiled apologetically at Greagoir. "Excuse us a moment, ser." She followed her companion a little way off. "What? This isn't exactly the time for a chat."
"What if we went in?" Alistair asked quietly.
"In?"
"To the tower. And fought the demons."
"Are you insane, Alistair?" Elissa demanded. He had to be. There was no other explanation.
"Think about it, Elissa." Alistair leaned forward, his eyes bright. "We need the mages against the darkspawn. Without magical support, there's no way we'll be able to end the Blight. If we can kill the abominations, maybe there will be some mages alive in there who can help us."
"But you want to go into the Tower. With mages who are apparently out of control, and demons running loose? You're absolutely barking mad."
No, she couldn't. She absolutely couldn't. It had been hard enough to get used to feeling Morrigan's magic. She still startled every time the witch cast, and was resisting the urge to run. She couldn't go in and face full blown demons and abominations.
Duke yipped his agreement.
"Who else, if not us?" Alistair asked. "The Templars here can't risk going in, and we can't afford for the Rite to be conducted. But we're Grey Wardens, we do what we have to defeat the Blight."
She fought to keep her voice quiet. "We can't defeat anything if we're dead! There are demons in there, Alistair. Demons!" She was vaguely aware of several Templars nearby turning towards her.
"You think I don't know that? I was trained by the Templars," he reminded her. "I know what demons do."
"There are five of us." Elissa glanced around, silently counting armoured men. "And dozens of Templars. Why do you think we can do what they couldn't?"
"Because we have no choice!" Alistair stepped closer to her. "Elissa, please!"
"You're crazy."
Alistair grinned, although it didn't reach his eyes. "I know. It's part of my charm."
Elissa sighed. What other choice did they have? Without magical help, they were screwed. "This is the worst idea, ever."
His smile twitched.
She headed back towards Greagoir, and braced herself for what she was about to say. "If we help you clear out the demons and abominations, will you call off the Chantry?"
"Call off th-" There was a long moment of silence. "You think to enter the Tower, kill the abominations and find living mages?" Greagoir looked at her sceptically. "You would be killed the moment you entered."
"You want to help these pathetic excuses for mages?" Morrigan demanded. "They allowed themselves to be corralled like cattle, mindless. Now their masters have chosen death for them and I say, let them have it."
Greagoir's face darkened.
Elissa shook her head. "We need the help. If this is the only way for us to get the mages' aid, then we don't really have a choice."
Morrigan sneered. "Have it your way."
Greagoir took a breath, and obviously ignored Morrigan. He nodded slowly to Elissa. "Very well." A gleam of hope sparked in his eyes. "If by some miracle you destroy all the abominations and there are mages left alive, yes, I will speak to the Chantry and keep them from enacting the Rite."
"The Chantry will never let that happen," a young Templar, barely older than Elissa herself, objected. "They'll say it is too risky to let an abomination escape."
"I called for the Rite. If I say it is no longer needed, they will listen to me," Greagoir said confidently.
"Then we have an agreement." A curious mix of hope and mind-numbing terror settled in her belly.
"We do. A word of caution – once you cross that threshold, there is no turning back. The doors must remain barred. I will open them for no-one without proof that it is safe. I will only believe the situation is dealt with when the First Enchanter stands before me and tells me it is so."
"What if Irving is already dead?" Elissa frowned.
"If Irving has fallen, then the Circle is lost and must be destroyed," Greagoir said flatly. "Then, I will open the doors for you to leave only once the reinforcements have arrived and we purge the Circle. You will be trapped in there until then."
Elissa swallowed. "So be it."
"Warden, if the Circle is lost and all the mages gone," he said, "once the Tower is cleared, the Templars of the Circle will follow you against the darkspawn."
"Are you mad, Greagoir?" another Templar burst out. "You want to fight darkspawn now?"
"Our purpose was to guard the mages," Greagoir said sharply. "With the mages gone, and in the absence of instructions from Denerim, I must decide our course. Destroying the darkspawn seems like a worthy goal."
"Just because you're ready to kill yourself doesn't mean the rest of us are! This is what happens when you frat-"
"Not another word, Talvern," Greagoir thundered, his eyes flashing. "You forget yourself!"
Elissa exchanged a glance with Leliana. That was interesting.
He turned back towards Elissa. "Are you ready to go in now?" His voice was still tight with suppressed anger.
"I suppose so." She turned towards her companions. "I will not force any of you to come with me. As the Knight-Commander said, the risk is great." She hesitated. "But I would welcome the help." She wasn't fooling anyone, let alone herself. With their help, it would be hard enough to destroy what a dozen Templars couldn't. Without them, she stood no chance. Yet she was a Grey Warden and she needed to gather her army.
Duke was the first to react, padding towards the giant double doors.
"I'm right behind you." The mental itch that represented Alistair to her darkspawn senses moved into place behind and to the right. Leliana's bright hair swung as she stepped up behind Elissa, slightly to the left. Morrigan's boots clicked as the witch too followed them.
"May Andraste lend you her courage," Greagoir said grimly, as he gestured for the doors to be unbolted.
We're going to need more than her courage, she thought to herself, allowing no sign of her thoughts to show on her face. Taking a deep breath, she strode towards the doors, painfully aware of the Templars standing behind her with bared swords waiting to see if something jumped out of the doors. With a heavy grating sound, the doors swung open to reveal a long, empty stone corridor that curved out of sight. Glowing crystal balls were nestled in brackets on the wall, lighting the corridor almost disturbingly brightly. They stepped through. Elissa glanced back over her shoulder, her gaze resting on Greagoir's solemn face.
A flicker of something darted through his eyes, and he inclined his head. "Be careful," he called. "Not all abominations look like monsters." Then he gestured. The heavy doors swung shut behind them with an echoing thud. It was followed with the dull sound of the metal bolt sliding home. A tingle ran across the back of her neck.
Morrigan turned to her. "Well, Elissa, what have you gotten us into now?" she drawled.