Naia was still contemplating the shield, and the fact that they were now trapped inside with an army of monsters, when she heard the gunshot.
She spun around, expecting to see Zevran or Juliet with their pistols drawn, but the others were as startled as she was. "East door," Zevran whispered.
Juliet nodded and reached for her own gun. "Come on. Abominations wouldn't use firearms. That could be someone who needs our help."
"Or an abomination who found the armory and decided to pick up a new skill. Andraste's ass, who runs towards the sound of gunfire?" Anders griped.
"Aren't the phylacteries in the Templars' wing?" Naia asked sweetly.
"There's a safe in the laboratory on the top floor, combination unknown, guarded by two Templars in the daytime and one at night." Anders smiled and shrugged. "I mean, not that I've thought about it."
"Maker forbid," Varric said dryly as Hawke pushed open the door.
Another crack of gunfire split the air as they entered the hallway, followed by an echoing shriek of pain and fury. Over Juliet's shoulder, Naia could see a massive, twisted creature—at least eight feet tall, with bony spikes protruding from its tilted shoulders. It was towering over a dwarven figure in a silver suit—the source of the gunfire—and it was taking slow steps closer and closer to its prey. Purple blood was leaking from several wounds, but it was not yet wounded enough to stop its pursuit.
"Get down!" Naia hissed.
Juliet immediately dropped to one knee. In one easy, familiar motion, Naia lifted Fang to her shoulder, drew in her breath, and fired as she exhaled.
After years of practice Naia knew what to relax and what to tense so that Fang's recoil wouldn't pop out her shoulder. Even so, the gun packed a punch, and she tried not to have to fire it twice in a row. She was lucky this time. The bullet struck the creature at the base of the neck, tearing out its throat, and apparently that was enough to do the job. It toppled over with a gruesome gurgle, its claws grabbing for its throat as it fell. Naia lowered Fang.
Down the hallway, the other shooter holstered their gun and turned. It was a female dwarf, fair and freckled, with dark brown hair pulled into a low ponytail. Naia tried to hide her surprise at seeing a dwarf in Templar silver.
"Agent Lillian Folmas," the Templar called. "Nice shot. Don't think I'm ungrateful, but who in the hell are you people?"
Naia raised her hand in a little wave. "Naia Tabris. I'm a private investigator from Denerim. We've got some friends who've been trapped here."
Agent Folmas's dark eyes swept over the group. They quickly came to rest on Anders. "Well. Isn't this interesting. Where did you disappear to, Enchanter?" She crossed her arms and glared at him. "We put the entire Circle on lockdown looking for you. Guess when the trouble broke out."
Anders swallowed hard. Naia decided to intervene. "We found him tied up in a storage closet in the west wing, actually," she lied. Circles must have storage closets, right? "The knockout powder had just worn off and he was trying to kick out the door."
Anders nodded vigorously. "Yes. It was horrible."
Agent Folmas didn't entirely look like she believed them, but she nodded with the air of a woman who had much bigger problems to worry about right now. "In that case, sorry. Glad you're safe," she said flatly. "You said you came here for your friends?"
"A human man, about twenty-one. Alistair Guerrin. And Detective Fenris Leto of the Denerim Guard," Juliet said. "He's an elf. Silver hair. You'd remember him."
Agent Folmas blew out a slow breath. "None of that rings a bell. But—well. I passed a lot of bodies on my way through the Circle." She dropped her gaze. "I tried not to examine all of them too closely."
Naia winced at her tone. Folmas was holding it together well, but Naia could sense a thread of fear and panic in her voice. Apparently Alistair hadn't been exaggerating about the situation.
"Where is everyone?" Hawke asked. "Are there … Maker. You can't be the only survivor."
Folmas shook her head. "The survivors are holed up on the ground floor of one of the dormitories." Naia noticed she didn't tell them which one. "Senior Enchanter Wynne and Knight-Commander Greagoir were getting ready to evacuate the kids and the wounded. They sent me to scout and sweep the building for survivors."
"They sent you alone?" Zevran raised an eyebrow.
The dwarf swallowed. "No," she said shortly. "We swept the east wing bottom to top. Then we ran into a bunch of abominations on the top floor, the one with the laboratory and Harrowing chamber. At first we tried to fight, but … three against twenty are bad odds even without demons. At the end all I could do was try to make it back to the others alive."
Twenty. Twenty demon-possessed mages. And that was just the ones Agent Folmas had seen.
"And now you can't even evacuate," Varric finished. "Not unless we're really wrong about what that giant shield over the Circle campus does."
"Yeah." Folmas blew out her breath in a huff. "I'm pretty sure the reason the top floor was so heavily guarded is that they're generating the shield in the laboratory. I saw inside the Harrowing chamber—they're using it as a headquarters of sorts. Lots of abominations there, but no one casting a giant shield."
"How in the Maker's name did they create this thing?" Hawke asked, her brow furrowing. "I mean, a spell that powerful—" She caught Naia's eye and coughed slightly. "It seems pretty powerful, anyway. How many mages would it take to cast something like that?"
"A lot," Anders said behind her. "Five, maybe more. And they'll want some quiet to do it. The top floor would be perfect."
Folmas nodded. "But you'll never make it through the abominations they have guarding those doors. You need to leave this to us."
"Do you have enough people to evacuate the children safely and also take on those abominations?" Juliet asked bluntly.
The Templar's mouth thinned into a tight line, which was more or less the answer Naia had expected. A little hint of a plan started to take shape in her mind.
"This laboratory. Anyone make potions in it?"
Anders raised his eyebrows. "Sure. All the time."
Zevran met her eyes. A little half-smile curved his mouth. "Vents," he said appreciatively.
Varric frowned. "I'm missing something, Sparks."
"Potions laboratories—even magical ones—need a way to vent dangerous gas. There will be a lot of ductwork leading from the lab to the outside. Probably the roof." This useful fact had served Naia well during a particularly memorable burglary.
The dwarven Templar nodded slowly. "That's true."
Naia tried to ignore the doubt in Agent Folmas's eyes. "If the vents are big enough I might be able to squeeze through, or at least see what's going on."
"Then I think we've got our plan," Juliet said—not entirely happily. "Finding Alistair and Fenris won't do us much good unless we can get everyone back out again. And it sounds like they're probably on the top floor." The unspoken if they're still alive hung ominously in the air.
Agent Folmas looked over each of them slowly. "Ancestors. You really think you can do this."
Naia straightened her spine and tried to look impressive. Juliet just shrugged, as if to say of course we can . But Varric met his fellow dwarf's gaze and grinned. "Agent Folmas, you wouldn't believe the weird shit Hawke and Sparks have done. If anyone can do this, they can."
Naia appreciated the vote of confidence. But she couldn't shake the worry that maybe this time, they'd picked a job even they couldn't pull off.
Max had no idea how to help Mei.
He thought about talking to her. But everything he could think of saying seemed utterly stupid. Are you all right? Maker, no, of course she wasn't. Can I do anything? No, he probably couldn't.
Hell, he could barely keep it together himself. The sight of Cullen in that prison was going to be seared into his memory and his nightmares for a long, long time. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to curl into a corner and wish the world away. He wanted to kill Uldred more than he'd wanted just about anything in his entire life.
But one look at Surana's white, drawn face told him that his agony wasn't even a fraction of hers.
Andraste's ass, I'm an idiot. He'd thought Cullen's crush was beyond hopeless. He'd told Cullen so to his face on more than one occasion. How did I not see that they've been sneaking around together this whole time?
"How should we proceed?" Detective Leto asked gravely as they stood in the hallway outside Cullen's prison. To Max's surprise, the Detective was directing the question not to him, but to Mei.
The mage drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. A flicker of light returned to her eyes. "The Harrowing Chamber. We can deal with their shield when Uldred and his friends are dead." She clenched her fists; little ice crystals began dancing around her fingers, beautiful and deadly. Another breath rose and fell in her chest before she spoke again; the spell in her hands faded. "But we have to be careful. Maker knows how many Uldred has turned. We're all capable, but abominations …" she fell silent.
"Yeah," Max agreed. "They're tough. But they're not unbeatable."
Mei looked up at him. "Max." She swallowed. "Um. You should have a sword. You too, Detective."
Max was about to ask if she really thought it was a good idea to go all the way back down to the armory when he realized what she meant. The fallen Templars had all carried weapons; daggers, broadswords, and longswords were littered over the ground.
He almost refused—it felt like a violation, somehow, though he knew his former comrades were long past caring—but they couldn't take the risk of descending to the ground floor. With bile rising in his throat, he reached for the closest hilt. Andraste was merciful; it was a longsword, slimmer and lighter than his usual weapon, but it would do, and he would not have to search further.
Detective Leto seemed to have no such qualms. He looked over the available blades as carefully as he could without disturbing the bodies and selected the largest broadsword. Max saw a flash of skepticism on Surana's face, but she didn't voice it.
"I guess we go forward now," Max said quietly. "Um. Up the stairs? Should we try to send someone to scout ahead?" That would have been standard procedure. But standard procedure in these situations assumed that you had more than three people.
"I believe it would be wise to remain in a group," the Detective said calmly. "We will be more effective if we join our efforts."
"I agree," Mei said quietly. Her mouth tightened, and ice rippled around her hands again. "Let's go find Uldred."
Alistair leaned his head against the wall and stared out at the shield covering the Circle. He'd been staring at it for what felt like hours. He kept hoping that somehow it would vanish, but so far his crossed fingers were not having their desired effect.
I should have listened to that Chantry sister who told me Andraste doesn't grant wishes.
When the door finally opened, Alistair was almost relieved to see a massive Fear abomination, simply for the change of pace. That relief was almost immediately replaced by terror when the thing looked at him. Its host had been a human woman; her skeleton was now stretched to massive proportions and her hair was mostly gone, replaced by a crown of thin, jagged horns. The creature's eyes stuttered and rolled, as if the demon wasn't sure how to use them.
"Uldred wants you," it rasped.
"What for? I make a mean Ferelden boil. And I'm told I pour a decent plain whiskey. Really, I'd be much more helpful if I knew a bit more," Alistair babbled nervously.
The creature did not reply; it simply lifted him over one shoulder, letting his head sway behind its back. Alistair momentarily considered fighting it, but with his hands and ankles bound, it didn't seem worth the effort.
I need to wait for a better chance. I really hope I get a better chance.
Alistair bounced and swayed as the abomination carried him down the hall. Its breathing was heavy; he found himself wondering if its host had been in entirely good health before being possessed. He almost asked about it before realized that he kind of preferred not to know.
Instead of reaching for the knob, the creature gave the stairwell door a hard kick, sending it bouncing against the wall and ricocheting back. The abomination gave a hiss of annoyance as the door slammed into its outstretched hand.
That hiss turned quickly into a scream as an ice spell bit into that hand.
The enraged monster dropped Alistair, hard, on the landing. As he shook the stars from his head and tried to sit up, the abomination rushed down towards the source of the magic—Enchanter Surana, standing in a rumpled and dusty blue suit, her face grim and her hands raised. Next to her stood Max Trevelyan, sword in hand. He stepped forward, as if to intercept the creature before it reached the mage.
The abomination was so focused on Surana and Max that it did not realize it faced another threat. A blur of blue and silver light flashed before Alistair's eyes, and suddenly Detective Fenris Leto had his hand through the abomination's back. He narrowed his eyes and pulled; with a scream, the abomination spasmed and then died, its spine neatly severed.
"Detective!" Alistair had never been so relieved to see someone in his life. "I was sure they were taking you off to … well. Um." He coughed. "Let's just say I wasn't sure I'd be seeing you again."
Fenris knelt beside Alistair and began working at the knots of his bindings. "I am glad to see you're still in one piece as well, Mr. Guerrin."
"I think they were keeping me around in case they caught … um." He looked over at Enchanter Surana and Max, who were climbing the stairs to join them on the landing. "They wanted me as leverage." His face fell as something awful occurred to him. Was that why Uldred wanted me? Did he find Fiona?
"Guerrin!" Max said. He flashed his familiar grin, but something about it looked off-kilter to Alistair. "You OK?"
"Yeah. I'm fine." He didn't feel entirely fine—he hadn't had water in hours, his muscles hurt from being tied up, and his head was still ringing a bit from being dropped on the ground—but given the number of bodies he'd passed while looking for a phone, he wasn't about to complain.
Max and the Detective exchanged a look Alistair couldn't quite read. "You should stay on this floor," the Detective said, just as Max said "We could use your help, Alistair."
"Would help involve hurting Uldred a lot?" Alistair scowled. "He got Naia and the others dragged into this."
Detective Leto's face blanched. "Hawke is here?"
Alistair nodded reluctantly. The Detective's mouth narrowed and his eyes widened; he looked torn between panic and rage.
Oh good. If anything happens to her, I won't live long enough to feel bad about it.
"We should try to find them," Surana said suddenly. "Looking will take time, I know. But we'll have strength in numbers."
Alistair opened his mouth to say that was a great idea. Then he closed it when he remembered Hawke was a mage. Max Trevelyan was a good guy for a Templar, but he was still a Templar. He wouldn't hesitate to act if he realized Hawke was an apostate. When he looked over at the Detective, he realized he and the elf were probably thinking the same thing. He was just about to say something vague about not having a lot of time when another voice cut through the stairwell.
"Mr. Guerrin. I was wondering what was taking so long."
Alistair's chin jerked skyward. Uldred was standing on the landing above theirs, his head and shoulders peeking out above the railing. He was staring down at them with his eyes gleaming yellow and a very satisfied smirk on his face.
Surana reacted first. Without making a sound, she flung her hands towards Uldred's face. A powerful blast of ice rushed upwards, chilling the air by several degrees; it cracked against the railing with incredible force. Uldred barely ducked out of the way in time.
"I suppose that answers my question about the success of your initiation, Enchanter Surana," he called mournfully. "Would you really throw your lot in with those who want to keep these prisons as they are?"
"Don't talk to me about prisons," she spat. "We found Cullen."
Alistair's stomach jerked and twisted. He hadn't liked Agent Rutherford much, but he couldn't imagine what a group of possessed Circle mages would do to a high-ranking Templar.
"Ah. I see. Regardless, you would be wise to hold your fire." Uldred's face appeared again—but this time, he had someone with him—a dark-haired female elf, her face bruised and pale. Uldred's arm was wrapped around her shoulders and his hand was curved around her throat.
For the first time in his life, Alistair laid eyes on his mother.
He wasn't sure if she could see him—but then her eyes moved and widened when they landed on his face. As he stared into her face he knew that she recognized him, somehow, though she would not have seen him since he was a baby. I've always been told I look like Maric, he thought, inanely.
"Mr. Guerrin, I must apologize. I was remiss in not arranging this family reunion earlier, but the Grand Enchanter proved difficult to trap." Uldred grinned. "And Enchanter Surana, I understand you're rather fond of her. So I do hope you'll take my offer. Come with me to the Harrowing Chamber—all four of you, without your weapons—or watch her die here."
Fiona opened her mouth. "No!" she shrieked. "Alistair, Mei. You must not—" The rest of her words were silenced when Uldred clapped his hand over her mouth.
Alistair knew what he had to do. He had to run. Going to the Harrowing Chamber would not save Fiona's life. Uldred wasn't going to spare any of them. At best, he'd keep them alive just long enough to play a role in the opening battle of his war.
But then, to his shock, Detective Leto nodded. "We accept your bargain. The Grand Enchanter must not be harmed." Slowly, he crouched and lay his sword on the ground.
"What are you doing?" Max hissed.
Leto drew a deep breath as he stood. "I am buying Naia and Hawke some time."
The east stairwell was eerily silent as Naia and the others climbed it. They kept their weapons at the ready, watching all angles for attack. They also passed bodies—Templars and mages sprawled over the stairs and against the wall. They had tried to defend their home and died for it.
We'll make them pay, Naia promised the bodies silently as she climbed.
As they passed the third floor, Zevran—who was climbing the stairs backwards and bringing up the rear—waved his hand for a halt. No one had time to ask why before a rage abomination flew through the door and charged for them. It was Bianca who did the trick that time, though Juliet and Anders's spells didn't hurt.
"Good catch," Naia told the other elf when the creature was dead. He merely shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.
They went even more slowly and more quietly after that, not wanting to risk being surprised on a landing. But no more abominations crossed their paths.
"Not that I want to complain about a lack of monsters. But I was expecting more of them," Varric whispered as Naia picked the lock on the door leading to the roof.
"Maybe they've gathered somewhere, like the surviving mages," Juliet theorized. "Ugh. Maybe they're planning something."
"Well, then let's try to throw a wrench in their gears." Naia shoved the door open. A blast of cold wind greeted them, whistling as it swept over the building. The little group collectively caught their breath as they saw proof of Lillian's theory. A column of golden magic was rising through a ragged hole in the roof, arcing upwards and pouring its magic into the shield surrounding the Circle.
"Anders, Varric. Help me sweep the roof," Hawke ordered. "Zevran, you help Naia find those vents."
The gravel on the roof's surface crunched underneath Naia's boots as she and Zevran began their search. She went cautiously at first, keeping Fang lifted, but when no abominations appeared she lowered the gun and moved more quickly. Her first act, of course, was to peer through the hole, but the magic's glow was too bright; she could not see inside. She listened for any sounds from the laboratory below, any indication about how the mages within might be generating the shield, but all she heard was a faint hum.
I guess there's no chanting. I kind of thought there'd be chanting.
She rose and met Juliet's eyes, shaking her head silently. Without a better look at what lay below, that could not be their way in.
"Here," Zevran called softly, waving the others over.
He was standing in front of a silver vent nearly as tall as she was; it was curved, designed to send the gas out of the room and off the side of the building, and just wide enough for someone to slide down. When Naia stood in front of it she could feel the warm air sliding out of it—a promising sign. The grate over its opening was solid metal and very tightly welded in place.
"Can you get this open?" she asked her friend.
Juliet grinned. "Leave it to me."
After some judicious application of fire—a little flame that Juliet wielded like a torch—the grate came free enough to allow Juliet and Varric to pry it partway off. Once the metal had cooled again, Naia slung Fang over her shoulder and took a deep breath. She wished she'd brought her burglary tools. A rope and gloves would come in handy right about now.
"All right. I'm expecting to find a fan on my way down, and maybe a filter. There's no getting rid of those without making some noise, so be ready to follow me fast. I'll bang on the vent twice when I'm down."
"Hold on." Juliet crossed her arms. "A fan? What if it's running?"
"We would have heard it by now," Zevran answered quickly.
Naia nodded. "Just cross your fingers that they don't turn it on after I get in the vent."
Juliet's brows drew together in a glare. Naia grinned at her sheepishly. "I mean, I'll be fine! This is completely safe! See you all down there."
With that, she climbed into the vent.
As slowly as she could, bracing her hands and feet against the sides of the thin metal, Naia inched her way down. The vent was about ten feet long and beneath her, Naia could see not one but two fans, separated by a filter. She groaned inwardly. This is going to be loud.Well, there wasn't anything she could do about it, except work quickly.
Naia stuck Fang into the blades of the first fan and wriggled through its gap—fortunately it was large and she fit. Once she was standing on the filter she bent two of the fan's blades so that it would no longer turn. A few kicks took out the filter, and she repeated the routine with the second fan.
With that done, Naia dropped into the laboratory.
She landed on the working surface of a fume hood, barely missing some expensive-looking glassware. She banged twice on the metal of the vent and then carefully crawled out of the hood into the laboratory, moving as silently as possible.
The fume hoods were set back in a little nook, away from the main work benches in the laboratory. The lab's lights were off, but Naia could see a bright golden glow shining around the corner.
Zevran arrived first, landing on silent feet as he slid down the vent. He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards the corner, as if to ask so what's out there? Naia shrugged in response, then began inching forward. As Varric, Anders, and Hawke followed Zevran, Naia craned her neck around the corner, barely daring to breathe as she looked towards the source of the golden light.
There were no mages standing in a circle, generating the shield together. There was only an enormous machine constructed from glass and metal.
Two six-foot capsules that strongly resembled coffins formed the bulk of the machine; they formed the edges of the contraption, with the gears between them. At first Naia was puzzled about their purpose. But then she saw the tubes leading from them, and saw that the tubes were filled with red. They were leading to a spherical reservoir at the machine's heart, one covered in runes from a language Naia didn't recognize. A glass chamber atop the reservoir seemed filled with a silvery mist; the shield was rising from a hole in the top, flowing upward through the hole in the roof.
With mounting dread, Naia climbed the machine as carefully as she could and looked into a window at the top of the closest coffin.
Inside lay a woman, human, with mousy hair and a brand seared into her forehead. She seemed to be asleep, and not in any pain, but the slow, irregular way her chest rose and fell made it clear that she was badly hurt.
"Andraste's ass," Naia gasped, too shocked to keep her voice low. "Anders. Juliet. You need to see this."