Bioware's party, I'm just crashing it.

Part 21

They traveled quickly, the horses making good time. Moira bought two more horses before they left Peravantium. She finally got a horse to herself, Zevran riding close to her to help her control it. The dwarf rode by herself as well, taking to handling the animal quite quickly. Wynne claimed she could still ride even if it had been ages since she'd done so. As Cullen was the most heavily armored, his horse was over-worked as it was. Moira didn't feel confident enough in her horsemanship to wear her armor, however, so she wore the leathers and linen that went under her armor while riding.

They rode as quickly as they dared, not wanting to run the horses into the ground and Wynne needed periodic rest breaks. She tired more quickly after helping Shale than she had before the Blight. Moira didn't need to see the dwarf's face to know she'd felt awful. One night, when Moira was watching Wynne with concern as the older woman retired early, Shale approached her. "She didn't tell me the price when she offered to fix me."

Moira blinked at Shale's use of the proper pronouns for Wynne, "What was the price?"

Shale glanced grimly over at the tent Wynne had retired to, "I don't know. But she gets weaker by the day, Warden. I don't know how to help her."

Moira looked down at the former golem. "Shale, I want you to know, if I can help her I will. But you might have to accept that there may be nothing I can do, as much as I hate to admit it. You may have to respect her choice and just honor her with the life she gave you."

Shale glared up at the elven mage, "Don't you dare tell me that, Warden!" Tears leaked from her eyes and were hastily scrubbed away. "She's all I have left!"

Moira knelt and pulled the dwarf close to her in a hug. The woman's small body resisted at first, then slowly hugged Moira back, clinging to the slighter mage and crying into her shoulder. "As long as I'm alive, Shale, you have a place. As long as there are Grey Wardens in Ferelden, you have a place."

Shale pulled back to look askance at Moira, "You're not going to recruit me, are you?"

Moira shook her head, "I don't actually want to recruit my friends, Shale. The Joining – the odds aren't good."

Shale shook her head, "I know that, elf. You and that fool weren't very quiet when you were discussing the perks of your order."

Moira blushed and looked away, catching Zevran's eye. The assassin was sitting near the fire, leaning on a log, grinning at them. He noticed her looking and merely looked away, raising his face to the stars. She remembered what he'd asked her when Cullen had been foisted on them. Moira hoped he understood why she would never offer the Joining to him, if Alistair would even let her.

They were back on the road the next morning, Wynne looking more energetic than she had the night before. Moira hoped they weren't pushing the old woman too hard. She grinned as the mage nudged her horse up to Cullen to give him a hard time like she used to with Alistair. Moira wondered if it wasn't perhaps some sort of attempt to get back at the Templars by teasing both men.

The rest of the trip passed uneventfully. The Imperial Highway was well maintained and well-patrolled through the border with the Anderfels and beyond. They ran into little traffic, and were rarely stopped by patrols. They reached the town of Val Dorma and resupplied. Moira found a map to Weisshaupt and probably paid far too much for it. If it would get them closer to the legendary fortress without wandering around the wilderness for weeks on end, it was worth the exorbitant price.

They settled Wynn in an inn in Val Dorma, left Perrin to look after her, and stabled the horses. On foot, the motley group headed into the forest surrounding the mountains near Weisshaupt. Moira had opted to wear her armor and carry her sword and dagger, instead of her staff. If they could, they would try not to kill any Grey Wardens. They followed the map and found it to be fairly accurate, especially when they started to find patrols of Grey Wardens. The small group neatly avoided the patrols, even managing to keep the inexperienced Cullen silent in his armor.

Circling the keep, the high walls were broken into three layers of thick, impenetrable stone one on top of the other, climbing the cliff face of the rocky out crop of the mountains between the Anderfells and Tevinter, the foot hills of the Hunterthorns. From their vantage point, Moira couldn't really see more than that it was a fortress, built to withstand long sieges with only one massive set of steel framed gates at the midpoint of the tallest wall. Pennons snapped in the stiff wind from the north, the griffon rampant on them glowing white against the black of the flag. Storm clouds were gathering over the ancient fortress. She wished she'd been able to come here for a more peaceful reason. Now, her first encounter with the only other Grey Wardens she'd ever met other than Riordan, Duncan and Alistair, would be at the point of a sword. She motioned to get her friends' attention. "Non-lethal only. We can't afford a Grey Warden civil war, especially while they still hold Alistair. We knock them out and tie them up." She held their gazes until they all nodded. Zevran nodded last, and only when she glared at him.

After nightfall, they found a stream that led out from under the keep. The four snuck in under the iron bars that were raised to let the water run freely. The water was over Shale's head, however, so Moira ordered Cullen to carry the dwarf on his back. This did nothing to help Shale's temper.

Moira led the way, casting Flaming Weapons and using her burning Spellweaver as a torch. The underground stream ran swiftly against them, rushing for the open skies and the moonlight. Moira envied its direction. She hated being underground, unable to see the sun or the moon. It wasn't lost on her that she was fated to die, now, in the shadows and in the muck and in the dirt and blood and hate of the Deep Roads. It made her resent any time underground that much more. But Alistair pulled her forward. The knowledge he was close spurred her to push against the flow of the stream harder, her boots sliding against the algaed stones lining the waterway.

As silently as they could with the lapping water, they crept along the walls of the aqueduct. Eventually, the tunnel turned and widened, the walkway they were following narrowed against the wall and began to slope up out of the water. While on their left, the stones ended in a drop off and the stream widened into an underground river disappearing under the stone. Unlit torches were hung on the walls as the ground continued to slope upward, turning a rounded corner. As they walked, Moira began to be aware of a rather awful smell. Debris and rotted food littered the sloping ground in the small circle of light their swords made. Rats squeaked and fled the dim light. The slope steepened as it went up, and holding her sword up higher, she could dimly see branches off the main tunnel.

"It appears, mi amora, that we've found the garbage chute." Zevran's voice was muffled by the hand covering his nose.

"And it's unguarded," she pointed out.

"Not a very paranoid lot, then, these legendary warriors," Shale said disapprovingly.

"It's a garbage chute and there's no Blight. What's there to guard against?" Cullen's voice was contemptuous.

Moira heard Shale spin to give the recruit another piece of her mind, and interrupted, "Children, we need to keep moving." She glanced at Zevran. "It can't be this easy, can it?"

He shrugged, "I've only snuck into a palace and the occasional castle. A military keep is a bit beyond my experience, my Warden. But, I agree. This has been too easy." He grinned at her, his eyebrow arching, "Perhaps, yet again, they are underestimating you?"

She let out a short laugh, "I can only hope." She stood at the juncture of the tunnels and weighed each side mentally, trying to see if she could sense Alistair. The problem was, there were too many Grey Wardens around and it foxed her usual ability to find the man she loved anywhere using their shared taint. However, while both branches were sloped, one side smelled less foul than the other. She deduced that the cleaner smelling branch would probably lead into the keep proper, but that the one that smelled the worst would head into their dungeons or prisons. Or at least, that's what she hoped. She headed down the left-hand branch, the others silently following her lead.

The left hand tunnel sloped more gently than the lower part had, and wound back on itself several times. The stones were slippery and slimy and more than once, at least one of them had to grab hold of the wall or a friend to keep from sliding painfully on to their rear ends. Rats continuously skittered out of their way, chittering their displeasure at the light of the glowing swords in the near pitch black tunnels. The sound of water dripping into stagnant puddles counterbalanced their stealthy footsteps. Zevran sheathed his blade as they came to a bend in the tunnel and motioned for them to stop as he crept ahead to scout. Moira leaned up against the wall, switching her glowing blade to her other hand and stretching out the arm that had gotten tired holding up her blade. Cullen leaned against the wall next to her. Shale stood a little farther away, peering into the darkness behind them, her feet planted and her arms crossed.

"Was she really… a… golem?" Cullen whispered to Moira.

"Yes. Since the last Blight, I think. She doesn't remember," Moira shrugged, her armored shoulders barely moving.

"That's…. incredible," he replied, his voice trailing off. Moira looked at Cullen. For once, he wasn't glaring at her, or watching her constantly. He wasn't frowning or pouting. He was just looking at Shale. She shook her head and turned to watch for Zevran.

It didn't take long for the elf to reappear. He looked disappointed, however, when he saw her watching for him, he had probably been planning on startling her. He gave a brief report when he got closer, "It is the prisons up ahead. They are patrolled, of course. But the guards aren't paying a lot of attention. I wonder if they're even Wardens?"

Moira shrugged, "They may not be. I wouldn't waste a Warden as a prison guard."

"Then we can sneak by?" Cullen asked.

"The elves can sneak by, you lout," Shale interjected. "You and I can't hope to match their stealth in our armor."

"I'm afraid I'm just as incapable of stealth in armor as both of you," Moira laughed softly. "Let's go. Just remember we're not going to kill anyone." Zevran in the lead, the four crept along the slippery passageway as quietly as they could.

They reached the hole in the wall at the rear of the prison level. It was a narrow hole, but not too small for her or Zevran or Shale to fit through even with their armor. Cullen, however, was going to have to take his off to fit. The two women climbed out, and Zevran stayed to help Cullen in the narrow space. Moira was glad Zevran behaved himself, but then her friend knew when professionalism was needed.

Cullen got through the hole and they managed to get his armor back in place before the patrol made it around to their hiding spot. Moira turned to Zevran, "Don't suppose you saw where they were keeping him?"

"Most of the cells looked empty, mi amora. I'd have to guess he's in one of the ones they seem to keep looking in as they go by."

She drew her sword and dagger. "Then let's go find our king, shall we?"