Chapter 10

Truth Is Always A Delusion

The sun had risen a few hours before, and much to her own displeasure, Núria was still in camp, making up her mind who to take to Haven. The mountain overlooking the village was clad in clouds, and even down below where they had been resting, a thick fog covered the lake and its vicinity. It felt as if even the land itself wanted them gone …

'Interesting strategy,' a voice said behind her. She spun around and found Sten, looking down at her from some six steps distance. She would normally move closer, but she knew that his personal space was a good deal wider than that of any of the others and so she refrained. 'Tell me: Do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the archdemon from the rear?'

'It'll never see this coming,' she commented absent-mindedly, removing things she wouldn't need from her bag and dropping them unceremoniously to the ground.

'Truly,' the qunari said. 'It would surprise me if my enemy counter-attacked by running away and climbing a mountain.'

'It's not like I didn't say why we're here,' Núria said slightly impatiently. 'I'm not going to repeat myself. You will very simply have to trust me.'

'I trust you with my life,' Sten stated, taking her by surprise with that revelation. 'But this is not my life at risk. It is our goal.'

'This is something that has to be done to achieve our goal,' Núria said calmly. 'Anyway, you'll be climbing the mountain with me.' She grabbed her blades and gestured to Wynne and Zevran to come with her, too. Alistair frowned slightly.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' he asked softly. 'Sten looked like he wanted to challenge you, and I'm not sure if Zevran will help you against him if he does.'

'He did challenge me, Alistair,' Núria informed him, 'and that wasn't the first time either. I can handle Sten. And for the last time, I trust Zevran.'

'If you would just tell me why, I'd feel better about that,' Alistair insisted. Núria sighed.

'I cannot,' she said. 'We have a connection. Look after the others … I have a feeling that this village has eyes everywhere in its vicinity. Keep them safe.' Alistair nodded.

'And you yourself,' he said softly. Núria grinned.

'For that I have Wynne,' she said briskly.

The village seemed forsaken but for the guard. This time he didn't stop her, he simply glanced at her, eyes full of hostility. They knocked a few doors, but no one seemed to be home. Only a small child was standing in the cold, muttering a nursery rhyme. For lack of any other person to speak to, Núria approached the boy. 'Who are you?' he asked her. 'You shouldn't be here.'

'Where is everyone else?' Núria asked instead of answering.

'In the Chantry,' the boy informed her. 'Mother wanted me to go to the Chant … but she doesn't get to tell me what to do any more! I'm sick of listening to Father Eirik along with the babies and the girls. Soon I'll be old enough to go up the mountain and …' The child faltered with the distinct air of someone who had said too much.

'Go up the mountain?' Núria pressed him.

'Nothing,' he said a little too casually. 'It's just nicer up there. You wouldn't understand. Lowlanders don't belong here.' Núria looked to Wynne for help.

'I bet you're a clever boy,' the mage said softly. 'Tell me something about Haven.'

'Haven is Haven, but I have a secret,' he said, inching closer to the mage. 'Do you want to see?'

'Yes, show me,' she said with a warm smile. The boy produced something from his pocket and held it out for them to see. Zevran's eyebrows shot up, and Núria had to swallow. Lying on his palm, there was a finger-bone, white and shining even in the vague light.

'Where did you get that?' Núria asked.

'Over by the mountain,' the child informed her. 'It's lucky. I keep it with me. Don't tell anyone, all right?' The small boy continued with his nursery rhyme.

'Fine, so we have to look for Genitivi without help,' Núria sighed. She approached one of the houses and pushed the door open. Her eyes fell on a stone altar in the corner. Clogging blood was running down its side.

'I wonder,' Zevran said next to her. 'The Crows often made sacrifices of blood, and it gave them uncanny abilities.'

'Let's get out of here,' Núria said firmly after a quick look around the house. They had barely stepped out of the door when they were attacked. They seemed to be intimidated by Sten's mere appearance, and that thought was comforting. More carefully, they moved up the hill and found a store. They entered and rummaged through all the things on display. She found a pair of leather boots and examined them.

'Is it common here to have dead people lying in the back rooms of your shops?' Zevran's voice called from behind an open door. She pocketed the boots and rushed to his side. Indeed, there was a knight, not only killed but dismembered.

'That's Redcliffe armour,' she said softly. 'That explains what happened to the knights. I wonder how much remains of Genitivi.'

Agreeing that they had to be very careful indeed, they proceeded to the Chantry. They could hear the muffled voices of the villagers in there, and after a moment of hesitation, Núria pushed the door open. A bearded man standing before a few villagers greeted them. Núria assumed he was Father Eirik.

'Ah, welcome,' he said. 'I heard we had a visitor wandering about the village. I trust you've enjoyed your time in Haven so far?'

'Yes, I do so love gore,' Núria said angrily. 'Where is Genitivi?'

'We do not owe you any answers,' Eirik said coldly. 'We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven.' As though by an unspoken command, the villagers attacked them. Some of them seemed to be used to fighting, but mostly their attempts were feeble. The fact that the people in the Chantry were all actually armed was not a comforting lookout, though.

'Interesting thing,' Zevran said kneeling at Father Eirik's body. He cut a thin chain from the man's throat and took a medallion from it. He tossed it over to Núria. 'There, might be worth something, who knows?' The small item looked vaguely like a flower. It was made of solid silver, as far as she could tell.

'Thanks,' she said and pocketed it. They looked around, and after a while Wynne started knocking at a section of the wall.

'There is a passage,' she said suddenly. 'There are a few hidden doors in the Circle Tower, and this is one, too, if ever there was one.'

'Can you open it?' Núria asked eagerly, and the mage started looking around. After a moment a smile spread on her face, and her hand reached behind a shelf. The door slid to the side, revealing a large chamber behind it -- and a man lying on the floor.

'You are not by any chance Brother Genitivi?' Núria asked, stepping up to him.

'I am,' he said, trying to sit up. 'You're not one of the cultists, are you? Thank the Maker …'

'You don't look well,' Wynne said, kneeling down beside him. 'I can set your leg and ease some of the pain, but you'll need to rest in order to heal properly.'

'I don't have time to rest,' Genitivi said urgently. 'The urn is just up that mountain.'

'You want to climb up there in your condition?' Núria asked with disbelief.

'Broken ribs be cursed,' Genitivi insisted. 'I'm not abandoning decades of research. There's an old temple up there, built to protect it. The door is always locked, but I know what the key is. Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door. I've seen what he does with it.'

'Is this by any chance the key?' Núria asked, handing him the thing Zevran had taken from Eirik. Genitivi's eyes lit up.

'Yes, that is the key!' he said delightedly. 'Take me to the mountainside and I will show you.' Núria gave Wynne a questioning look, and she nodded.

'We'll help you,' she said. 'Let's go.'

It wasn't far, and Núria allowed Genitivi to lean on her. A path led from behind the Chantry up the slope and to an inconspicuous door. Genitivi fumbled with the medallion for a moment, before he put it into a very strange keyhole and opened the passage. They stepped into a cavern whose ceiling was so high that it was barely visible. Snow had drifted into the hall from one side, and stalagmites and stalactites of glistening bluish ice formed columns of unique beauty.

'You stay here, who knows how many madmen are in here,' Núria told Genitivi. He didn't really seem interested in leaving any time soon anyway. While she and the others had a good look at the place, he barely moved three steps, looking closely at wall carvings and statues.

Indeed, the temple was swarming with cultists. Apart from that, it had to be a vast place that reached into the very heart of the mountain. Twice they stood before doors whose locks neither Núria nor Zevran could pick. They found a library with tomes so old that she could not even read them, let alone understand what they said. She took a few scrolls with her, wondering if she would ever find someone who could decipher them.

Apprehensively they passed through a tall door to find that their impression had been right: This temple was built into the mountain. The passage they entered was a natural cave, worming its way into the stone. The air was thick behind it, but there had to be air shafts, for it was breathable. Apart from changing direction at every other step, the cave branched out, and Núria was getting worried if they would ever find their way out again.

'Have we been turned around?' Wynne muttered behind her. 'How does anyone navigate these halls?' Zevran chuckled.

'With a good memory,' he replied calmly. 'If you turned around now you would have to go past two side arms leading to the left and into the one on the right side. There you walk for about two minutes until …'

'Thank you, that's all I wanted to know,' Wynne said, sounding immensely relieved.

The cultists inside the temple were fighting much better. They were warriors, if she was any judge of fighting technique, and Sten started adopting their methods. She wondered if that was his way of mocking them.

The most disconcerting thing about the place were the small dragons assisting the cultists in the fight. They also seemed to increase in size the further they got. Had the first lizards only reached to their knees, they found some that actually overlooked them deeper in the temple. Núria pushed the thought of an even larger dragon firmly away.

There were traps laid out by the cultists and she and Zevran did their best to disarm them for everyone's safety, lest someone forget about them on the return. Her fingers were stiff with cold, but she did her best. Wynne could often tell if there were people in a room, and if it were only a few or a large group. Sten, who disliked mages, didn't appreciate how much trust Núria laid on her, but when he sustained an injury he let her heal him quite willingly and even stopped referring to mages as 'it' when speaking about them.

They ended up before yet another cavernous hall, and Wynne said she thought there was quite a number of people in there. Núria suggested proceeding carefully, but Sten was about as good at sneaking as the average bronto. She already had her hands on her weapons, when one of the men in the room stepped up to her and stared in her eyes. Being a human, he was quite a bit taller than she, but he gave Sten a short wary look before he spoke. 'Stop! You will go no further!' Again, he glanced at Sten. Núria folded her arms.

'Oh? Is that so?' she asked in a demonstratively relaxed stance.

'You have defiled our temple!' the man said angrily. 'You have spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young. No more! You will tell me now, intruder, why you have done all this. Why have you come here?'

'I have come for the Urn of Sacred Ashes,' Núria replied truthfully, wondering if that would cause him to attack them.

'You did this for an ancient relic?' the man asked incredulously. 'Know this stranger … The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now. What hope do you have?' Núria's eyebrows had travelled a good way upwards, and with some force she lowered them again, turning her gaze into a frown.

'And what has happened to the ashes?' she asked, fearing that this insanity had caused their destruction.

'They are still within this temple,' the strange man told her, 'but why do we need ashes if we serve the risen Andraste in all Her glory?'

'I want to see that glorious Andraste,' Núria told him, trying to sound as little sceptical as was possible.

'None but the disciples may approach Andraste,' the man said. 'She is not ready yet, but when the time is right, She will descend upon the nations in fiery splendour, and all will know Her. But … perhaps there is a way to make up for your recent transgressions.'

'Indeed?' Núria asked. 'Would you give me your name, then?' His name was Kolgrim, and he was the leader of the cult that had tried to thwart them all the way from Haven. He also said that the ashes stopped Andraste from gaining her full power. In order to do so, a few drops of her blood would have to be poured into the ashes. Núria clearly saw the fanaticism in his eyes, and so did her companions. She listened carefully, working on keeping her face indifferent. Fighting fanatics was not what she had come here for, and there were quite many of them gathered in this hall.

Finally, Kolgrim told her that a guardian was taking care that none of the cultists could reach the ashes, but that she would pass for a pilgrim. Expecting protests, she agreed to take the blood of the risen Andraste to the ashes. She heard Wynne starting to speak, but Zevran cut across her.

'Excellent,' he said firmly. 'With Kolgrim on our side, we could make it through this entire ordeal with our necks intact.' Núria nodded towards him.

'Precisely,' she said. 'I want to get back to Eamon.'