The first of the walking dead appeared at the top of the hill leading down to the windmill, emerging from the mist like ghosts, and Arthur gagged in shock at the sight of them, not that he was alone in so doing. The sight of the undead in the tunnels of the Lady's lair had been horrifying, but at least they had been no more than walking skeletons. The undead sprinting down the hill towards them were somewhat more frightening in that, despite their horrifically butchered and maimed forms, there was still signs of individuality, traces of the people they had been in their clothing, appearance and possessions: the way an elven serving girl braided her hair, the scuff marks on a knight's armour made by polishing, the fine brooch one of the arlessa's maids used to fasten her dress. But looking into the eyes of those people racing down, one could see that any such individuality was gone from them. Whoever they had been, they were now just puppets of flesh and bone, dancing on the strings of whatever foul power had breathed life back into their corpses and stripped them of everything but the urge to kill.
Arthur allowed himself a reluctant sigh at what had to be done, but put it aside as he raised his sword. There was nothing that could be done. These people could not be saved; only put out of their misery. Killing these poor souls would be like amputating a gangrenous limb: painful, but unfortunately necessary.
"Light the fires" he heard Ser Perth cry out, and a pair of flaming arrows from the windmill slammed into the oil-soaked ground, igniting it and setting the frontrunners of the pack ablaze. Horrific screams split the night air as the fire hungrily began to chew at oil-soaked flesh, but the undead kept coming, disregarding the flames eating them as the mindless urge to kill ingrained into them drove them on. As the first of the undead staggered out of the fire, the warriors were on them. Arthur hacked the Green Blade down on the arm of a burning male elf, slicing it off at the elbow. The monster snarled angrily and swung out at him with a meat cleaver in its remaining hand, completely unhindered by its injury. Arthur blocked the blade's path to his head with Swiftrunner's shield, the crude iron axe unable to make a mark on the whitewood, and then slashed low; the Green Blade easily hacked through the flesh of the creature's knee, weakened by necrosis and fire damage, sending the burning elf crashing to the grass. Before it could recover, the Green Blade came down, severing the undead elf's head from its shoulders. Arthur looked up in time to block the descending hack of a carving knife and took off the hand wielding it with his return blow. Before the creature-which from the look of it had been a pretty arlessa's maid, her once-long blonde hair lank and matted and her throat half-torn out by a vicious bite- could do little more than hiss in pain, Arthur spun on his heel, the Green Blade slicing into the already weakened flesh of the girl's neck. The severed head fell to the ground, the wretched creature put out of its misery.
Looking round, Arthur saw his companions were managing to hold their own: Zevran and Leliana were dropping undead from a distance, the creatures falling with arrows punching through the eyes or the brow into the brain. Sten was surrounded by a number of corpses, all severely mangled, limbs and heads cast about him like some twisted vision of a butcher's shop. A slavering corpse that had once been a scullery maid threw itself at the qunari, but Sten slashed Asala through the monster's midsection, and its bifurcated form collapsed, its torso landing a short distance from its legs. The creature continued to try and attack, snapping angrily at Sten's ankles as it dragged itself by its hands across the ground, but Sten dodged back from the creature vainly biting at his feet and stamped on its head once, twice, thrice, smashing the fiend's head to pulp with every blow.
Ser Perth and his knights were clearly well-versed in how to bring down the monsters; the previous skirmishes having taught them to bring down the undead. Alistair fought beside them, he and the knights using their shields to fend off the circle of clawing hands and blades around them. The knights fought back in tandem, one using his shield to smash one of the undead to its knees, the other taking off its head. Their attacks, coupled by arrows and magical attacks from above swiftly began to thin out the undead battling with the defenders at the base of the slope. As Arthur watched, a stream of magical ice streamed from Morrigan's hands, turning a number of the creatures into frozen statues. Before the spell could wear off, Ser Perth and his knights smashed the frozen undead into smithereens.
A high-pitched scream from behind caught Arthur's attention: a small group of the undead had gotten past Perth and his knights, and were trying to break down the door to the windmill. The scream had come from the captured elf spy; a trio of the undead-two elf serving girls and a cook- had set upon him. The fool's attempt to defend himself had ended with his sword uselessly embedded in the gut of one of the elves, and the undead monsters tore the spy apart before he could draw his weapon free. Dwyn and his men hacked the monsters to pieces as they gorged themselves on the spy's still-warm flesh, before turning their attention to those trying to hack down the windmill door to get at Morrigan, Leliana and Zevran.
Arthur made to join them, but before he could, he heard running footsteps behind him; he whirled round, sword raised, but the intruder was not another slavering walking corpse, but one of Murdock's militia, the terror in his voice clear even muffled as it was by the full helm he wore.
"The monsters are attacking from the lake! They're attacking the barricades; we need help!"
Stopping for only an instant to order Ser Perth and his men to hold their position, and commanding Alistair, Sten and Edward to follow him, Arthur took off at a run down the slope after the militiaman into the village, where the militia were gathered in front of the Chantry, desperately trying to prevent a seething throng of undead villagers from overrunning the meagre wooden barricades and getting to the doors of the Chantry and the defenceless people inside. Looking closely, Arthur could see every one of the creatures hurling themselves at the barricades was soaking wet, as though they'd hauled themselves from the depths of Lake Calenhad, which in all honesty, they probably had. 'But then how did they get from the castle to here? Unless...they jumped from the battlements?'
As one of the monsters saw him and the others approach and let loose a screech of feral hunger that alerted the rest of the pack, Arthur put the question to the back of his mind. They could unravel the mystery of how the undead had gotten from the castle after they were no longer trying to slaughter the villagers.
The creature that had roused the others- a burly man in tattered scraps of red-steel chainmail, missing its eyes, nose and most of its lower jaw, dragging a large maul behind it- staggered towards the approaching group, swinging its weapon with wide, scything motions that had the power to smash a man to pulp if they connected, but more often missed. Sten bellowed a challenge and made to counter the monster, ducking under the swing and slamming the pommel of his sword into the creature's head. The monster recovered more quickly than expected, recoiling from a stab of Asala and moved to confront the qunari. However, Sten's distraction was sufficient to keep the hulking undead brute distracted, allowing Alistair and Arthur to join with the militia's efforts.
A volley of arrows from the militia slashed into the undead like a swarm of hornets, dropping a few, but most were not even slowed by the missiles slamming into them. The creatures began to assail the barricades the militia had assembled in a semi-circle around the entrance of the Chantry. At least two dozen of the things were throwing themselves at the barricades. The militiamen were desperately fighting back, avoiding the grasping hands and stabbing blades and trying to make attacks of their own, but their own inexperience and fear of their unnatural enemy was hindering them just as much as the undead were hindered by their own decrepit bodies. The spectacle might have been amusing in a macabre way if it weren't so dire. As Arthur watched, one militiaman staggered back, howling and clutching a deep cut in his arm, made by an undead serf's knife, creating a gap in the defender's line. The creature shrieked triumphantly and tried to get in among the defenders, but Arthur seized a hand axe that one of the creatures had discarded in its haste to try and get over the wooden fences and hurled it, splitting the undead man's cranium into pieces. The militia closed ranks and the fighting continued, Oathkeeper and the Green Blade taking their fair share of heads.
A scream from behind caught Arthur's attention; despite the best efforts of Murdock and his men to hold them off, a number of the monsters had gotten over the barricades to the right, knocking aside the men trying to hold them off and were hacking at the doors and windows of the Chantry, trying to find a way in. Arthur looked round, but no one could move to stop them: the militia were overwhelmed trying to stop more from getting past their defences. Sten was still locked in combat with his colossus of an opponent, ducking back from the brute's maul, and Alistair and Edward had their own opponents to fight. With a weary sigh, Arthur raced to the defence. 'Looks like it'll have to be me'.
Three opponents stood before him; two of the walking corpses who had once been men hacking at the barred doors of the Chantry with heavy axes in a futile effort to break down the doors. Both undead were so engrossed in their task, they didn't realise the danger to them until it was too late; the first one fell when the Green Blade stabbed into the back of its head and emerged from the top of the skull. The second saw its ilk fall, but could do little more than scream before the sword's next slice cleaved its skull into two pieces, the head severed raggedly above the jaw.
The final walking corpse, which from the looks of it had been a woman in her mid-forties, had had better luck, managing to smash one of the small windows by the door, and was now trying to grab at anyone she could reach inside. Screams of terror came from inside the building at the sight of the monstrosity trying to force its way in, along with Bann Teagan ordering everyone back away from the door, but one voice was not overcome by horror.
"Mother?" he heard a boy's voice ask. 'Bevin?' he thought.
The creature's only response was to howl in deranged hunger, clawing wildly at the nearest victim, completely uncaring of the fact the victim was her son. Arthur heard a girl scream that could only be Kaitlin, and reacted quickly; seizing the undead woman by the back of the ruined dress she wore, Arthur pulled the woman, screaming hatefully, away from the window and threw her to the floor, pinning the woman to the ground with his foot. Looking up, he could see Kaitlin and her brother at the window, the girl trying to pull her brother back even as she stared at the scene in mute horror.
"You don't want to see this" he told the girl, who nodded and covered her brother's eyes as she turned her head away: they didn't need to see him kill their mother, even undead as she was. A brief flare of pain cut through Arthur as the undead woman managed to partially worm her way free and sank her teeth into the back of his leg; Arthur gave a gasp of shocked pain, but wisely kept the living corpse pinned down. Before the ghoul snapping at his feet could pull herself free, Arthur brought the curved sword down, easily carving through the woman's neck and sending her head rolling away. Removing his foot from the decapitated corpse, gingerly feeling the back of his leg to see the damage the dead woman's bite had done, Arthur took a quick look of the battlefield.
The hulking undead soldier was down, his maul cut in two halfway along its length and his body decapitated. The soldier's head lay in pieces on the blood-soaked ground, each piece closely resembling a crushed tomato. Sten was victorious, but the qunari was in a bad way; his left arm was red with blood and the heavy chainmail armour covering the limb appeared crushed. The qunari had been hit by the undead warrior's maul, and judging from the blood and the unnatural angle at which his arm hung, the limb was clearly broken. Alistair had fared little better: Murdock was standing beside the former templar, a drawn sword ready, while another militiaman held a wet cloth to a wound at Alistair's head, which looked to have been inflicted by a mace. Despite the injuries of his companions, the militia looked to be in good shape- a few minor injuries but nothing serious- and Edward seemed unharmed, the mabari lifting his head from the body of an undead manservant, having crushed the thing's skull between his jaws, the corpse's black ichor dripping from his fangs.
As Arthur took stock of the situation, he heard more running feet approaching. "Here they come again!" he roared as more ungainly human shapes began to approach.
What seemed like minutes, but was in truth hours, passed in the same interminable manner; the undead continued to emerge from the lake and charge at the barricades assembled, but with every new attack, their numbers decreased and the militia fell into a routine, loosing volleys of arrows that dropped a good number of the attackers, before blades finished them off. Arthur and Alistair hanged back, loosing arrows and crossbow bolts along with the militia, not wanting to chance further injury. Many of these undead monsters were in even worse condition; missing limbs and carrying deep wounds that hindered them, forcing the walking corpses to limp or even drag themselves into combat, only to be hacked down by the militia. A number of other attackers also stumbled down the hill, bearing the mark of Leliana and Zev's arrows or the blades of Ser Perth and his knights; these creatures fell even more easily than those emerging from the dark waters.
Finally, after a night that seemed to have lasted forever, as the first signs of dawn began to crest the horizon, the first light of the sun beginning to appear above the top of the distant Frostbacks, the battle ended. The last of the walking corpses toppled, a well-placed arrow embedded between the eyes, and silence fell upon the village for a moment as the survivors scanned their immediate surroundings for any more undead. Then one man let loose a jubilant cry of victory, which the rest of the militia took up, overjoyed at their triumph. His companions seemed relieved, but as for Arthur, he stalked to a wooden post by the door of the Chantry and sank to the floor, too tired to move further. The cheering of victory continued, but exhausted beyond measure, Arthur Cousland was asleep long before they fell silent.
#############
When Arthur woke, it was long after sunrise, and he was now inside the Chantry; someone must have dragged him inside. Nor was he alone: the rest of his companions were also present. Alistair was propped up against a wall beside him to the right; Edward was curled up at his master's feet and Leliana had fallen asleep at some point with her head resting on Arthur's shoulders. Morrigan and Sten, however, were awake; the qunari had removed his armour and the witch was tending to the wounds the undead had inflicted, closing up the minor wounds with healing magic. She had also managed to form a crude sling for Sten's arm; the witch's skill for healing, while sufficient for minor to moderate injuries, were no use for something that severe.
Zevran, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen, but there would be time enough to ponder the elf's whereabouts later; a shadow fell over him and the others, diverting his attention. Looking up, Arthur saw it was Hannah, the Revered Mother of the Redcliffe Chantry. She gave him a "Bann Teagan asks that you and your companions join him outside the Chantry as soon as you can; there is something he wishes to say to you"
Gently shaking Alistair and Leliana awake and murmuring his thanks to the Revered Mother, Arthur relayed to his awaking companions what had been said. Alistair quickly got to his feet, smoothing his hair down, pulling his sword belt up more securely, while Leliana rearranged her armour and collected her weapons. For a moment, Arthur wondered if Sten should join them, but the qunari clambered to his feet, showing no discomfort for his arm.
"I will come, if only because it will be an interruption to the saarebas poking me for hours on end" Sten muttered.
"Oh the gratitude!" Morrigan sniped sarcastically. "Next time, I'll wait for the gangrene to set in before I heal you, and see how you enjoy the pain! I suppose I had best come too, lest these superstitious fools forget the part a mage played in saving this dunghill and decide to tie me up and burn me for raising the dead. After all, while we've destroyed these undead, we still need to find and deal with whatever raised them in the first place" the witch added. No one could argue with that.
As the group approached the front doors, Arthur asked "Has anyone seen Zev?"
Leliana replied "He did survive the battle. When I last saw him, he'd gone with some of the militia to the tavern to help themselves to whatever supplies of liquor were left while the tavern keeper is locked in his cellar. I imagine they've been drinking most of the morning".
Arthur pulled open the doors of the Chantry as he took this information in, blinking in the bright sunlight that met them as the doors opened, only to be caught offguard by a sudden cheer that, in the early silence of the morning was near deafening. Looking round, Arthur saw to his amazement that what looked to be the entire surviving population of Redcliffe-militiamen, women young and old, children and Ser Perth and his fellow knights- were either cheering, clapping loudly or in the case of the knights, beating their swords on their shields.
"Dawn arrives, my friends, and all of us remain. We are victorious!" Bann Teagan cried out, eliciting another cheer from the villagers. Teagan allowed himself a small grin and then gestured to the new arrivals. "And it is these good folk you see beside me that we have to thank for our lives today. Without their heroism, surely we would all have perished."
The crowd continued to cheer as Teagan turned his full attention to the group and inclined his head to Arthur. "I bow to you, good ser. The Maker smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour." Arthur likewise gave a brisk nod of his head, but Teagan had already turned away, taking a cloth-wrapped bundle from Ser Perth. The bann opened it to reveal a steel helm of fine make, its visor and circumference adorned with engravings of warhounds and other Fereldan iconography, which he took in both hands and extended it to the Warden.
"Allow me to offer you this: the helm of Ser Ferris the Red, my great-uncle and hero of Ferelden. He would approve passing it to one so worthy"
"Thank you, Bann Teagan. I am honoured." Arthur replied gratefully, gently taking the helm. His own ironbark armour was still sufficient but Alistair would no doubt desire it for its weight and heritage.
"Take it, then, and use it in good health."
Revered Mother Hannah came forward, addressing the gathering. The crowd calmed down to listen. "Let us bow our heads and give honour to those who gave their lives in defence of Redcliffe. Now they walk with He who is their Maker. Long may they know the peace of His love." Arthur intoned the traditional response, "So let it be" along with the others, though he felt little enthusiasm for it-after all, the Maker had hardly intervened in the chaos engulfing Ferelden so far-and then Bann Teagan spoke once more to the people of Redcliffe.
"With the Maker's favour, the blow we delivered today is enough for me to enter the castle and seek your arl. Be wary and watch for signs of renewed attack. We shall return with news as soon as we are able." He looked over at his guests as the crowd began to disperse, speaking in an undertone "Now, we've no time to waste. Meet me at the mill. We can talk further there."
Ten minutes later, Arthur and the companions he had chosen- Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan- were traipsing up the slope to the windmill. Arthur had flatly refused to let Sten go with them; with a broken arm, the qunari would be of no use to anyone, so Arthur had had Sten sit with the healers where his wounds could be better tended; Morrigan had done her best, but the witch's magic was better suited to destruction than restoration.
Zevran had offered to come, but the elf's clearly inebriated state, not to mention the looks he and the tavern girl Bella were shooting at each other-along with her simple dress looking a little dishevelled and hanging off one shoulder- made Arthur insist that the elf remain behind. Grinning from ear to ear, the elf had given a drunken Antivan toast, not that he was the first in the tavern. The militia had all tried to ply him with coin, free ale and other rewards, and the tavern girl Bella had also been quite friendly, though her idea of a hero's welcome had been to throw her arms around his neck and try to pull his tongue out. He would never know what possessed him to offer the woman enough coin to get her to Denerim; maybe it was just a whim, maybe he wanted to help her better her life rather than languish in a tavern where her boss groped and paid her next to nothing, maybe to help her escape from the coming Blight, or simply another taste of her gratitude, but he still gave her the sovereigns. The approving nods of his companions were proof enough that he had done the right thing, though Leliana's glower at the woman's 'gratitude' was still boring into Arthur's back as they headed up to the windmill.
Exiting the tavern, and stopping just long enough to refill their supplies with food and medical poultices, the quartet had quickly moved up the hill, Edward eagerly following at their heels, where Bann Teagan and the Arl's knights stood beside the windmill, relatively undamaged by the night's attack, staring up at the high battlements in the distance.
"Odd how quiet the castle looks from here. You'd almost think there was no one inside" Bann Teagan muttered, half to himself, before ceasing his ruminations and turning his attention to the others. "But I should not delay things further. I had a plan...to enter the castle once the village was secure" At the confused look on the faces of the Wardens and the women, Teagan continued "There is a secret passage here in the mill, accessible only to my family"
This knowledge did not surprise Arthur; like the Couslands, it made sense the Guerrins would have a secret escape passage from their castle for use in times of war and strife; such a thing had likely been built during the Orlesian occupation and the rebellion. What did annoy Arthur was the fact that Teagan had withheld that information from them; though he would not have stood by and let the undead destroy the village, a small party could have snuck in and liberated Arl Eamon from the castle.
Teagan contritely replied "I knew you would choose to enter the castle instead of staying in the village… and we needed warriors. I'm sorry if I- Maker's breath!" Teagan's eyes widened at something behind Arthur. The Warden spun round to see, approaching them at a steady jog, a women in her thirties with slightly unkempt brown hair pulled into a bun and wearing a slightly tattered but still fine dress, a soldier of Redcliffe following at her heels. Edward growled at the approaching noblewoman, but she paid the mabari no heed.
"Teagan! Thank the Maker you yet live!"
"Isolde!" Teagan replied, clearly overjoyed and astounded by his sister-in-law's survival. "You're alive? How did you-what has happened?"
"I do not have much time to explain! I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw the battle was over, and I must return quickly." Her face twisted into a rather curious expression as she looked at the other onlookers, clearly not wanting to speak in front of them. After a few moments, she was forced to overcome her reluctance and, trying to speak as quietly as possible, muttered "And I… need you to return with me, Teagan. Alone."
"We will need more of an explanation than that, I think" Arthur replied curtly; it was all very well and good for the arlessa to show up and ask for help now the fighting and dying was done, but the fact she hadn't given them any information about what was going on in the castle and yet wanted them all to risk their necks in a place where all manner of dangers lay in wait sat ill with the youth. She glowered at him with a look of condescending superiority, clearly appalled at the notion that one of inferior station had the temerity to speak to her without the proper respect.
"What? I… Who is this man, Teagan?" Alistair stepped forward at that point, looking as clearly unhappy to see her as she would likely be to see him.
"You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?" he asked with a sigh. She stared blankly at him for a moment before his identity fell into place.
"Alistair?" The arlessa spat his name like a curse; her expression only soured ever more, her dark brown eyes overflowing with disdain. "Of all the… why are you here?" Bann Teagan rested a calming hand on her arm.
"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde, both Alistair and his companion, Arthur Cousland, son of the teyrn of Highever. I owe them my life," he added sternly. The arlessa's eyes went wide with shock as she realised the disrespect she was showing to her guests. She quickly curtsied and adopted a sweet smile that grated on Arthur's nerves as much as her earlier bluntness.
"Pardon me, I… I would exchange pleasantries, but… considering the circumstances…"
"Please, Lady Isolde," Alistair tried again. "We had no idea anyone was even alive within the castle. We must have some answers!"
"I know you need more of an explanation," she conceded, darting eyes betraying her discomfort, "but I… don't know what is safe to tell." She turned to Teagan once more. "Teagan, there is a terrible evil within the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues. And I think…" She glanced around, clearly uncomfortable about talking in the presence of anyone but her brother-in-law. "Connor is going mad. We have survived but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death!" She grabbed the bann by the front of his jacket, tears starting to run down her face. "You must help him, Teagan! You are his uncle, you could reason with him. I do not know what else to do!"
Arthur rubbed his chin thoughtfully, uncertain what to make of all this. 'Her distress seems real, but still… there's something she's not saying'.
"What of Arl Eamon? Is he still alive?"
"He is. He is being kept alive so far, thank the Maker" the arlessa replied to Alistair's blurted question.
"Kept alive?" Teagan asked, clearly confused by her choice of phrase. "Kept alive by what?"
"Something that the mage unleashed. So far it allows Eamon, Connor, and myself to live," she said, staring at the ground. "The others… were not so fortunate. It's killed so many, and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village! It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help!" the arlessa sobbed, the terror in her voice real.
"Tell us about this mage," Arthur demanded.
"He is an infiltrator, I think- one of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill."
"Eamon was poisoned?" gasped Teagan, horror-struck.
"He claims an agent of Teyrn Loghain's hired him! He may be lying, however- I cannot say"
Arthur took this in, thinking to himself. If a mage was involved, then he had a strong suspicion as to what this 'thing' the arlessa seemed beholden to was...
"So why must Teagan go alone?" asked Alistair, clearly uneasy at the thought. Arthur had to agree with his companion; if Arl Eamon and his son were indisposed, he was not comfortable with sending Teagan into the same danger; if all three of them were to perish, the Guerrin line would be destroyed, and any chance of getting help from Eamon or Teagan against Loghain and the Blight would die with them.
"For Connor's sake, I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan," Isolde sobbed desperately. "Teagan, I know you could order your men to follow me when I return to the castle. I beg you not to, for Connor's sake!"
"Am I the only one who gets the feeling she isn't telling us everything?" Morrigan suddenly accused dryly, her hawk-like eyes narrowed suspiciously. The arlessa whirled round to glare at the younger woman, the haughty disdain she had displayed earlier returning to her gaze.
"I- I beg your pardon!" She gasped through her tears, revolted by the witch's audacity. "That's a rather impertinent accusation!"
"Not if it's true." Arthur retorted. The arlessa shook with outraged grief as she sobbed "An evil I cannot fathom holds my son and husband hostage! I came for help! What more do you want from me? Teagan, I do not have much time! What if it thinks I am betraying it? It could kill Connor! Please come back with me- must I beg?"
"Could this evil she mentions be a demon?" Arthur asked of Morrigan. The witch shrugged her shoulders and replied "We are too far from the castle for me to tell just how strong or weak the Veil is there, but such a creature would be a good culprit behind the mayhem that has afflicted this hovel"
"Demon?" Isolde whimpered, her eyes widening in terror. "Maker's mercy! Could it truly be a demon?" Fresh tears began to stream down her cheeks and she turned her desperate pleas back to her brother-in law.
"I can't let it hurt my Connor!" she sobbed. "You must come back with Teagan! PLEASE!"
Teagan gave a weary sigh, but spoke with a resolute determination "The king is dead, and with Cailan gone, we need my brother now more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."
"Oh, thank the Maker! Bless you, Teagan! Bless you!"
"This is a mistake" Arthur asserted. "You're going to get yourself killed."
"I cannot let Isolde return alone. Perhaps I can help Connor or Eamon. Perhaps this is really a trap, but this is my family. I must try. I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone. You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable. Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you."
"Please do not take too long!" She said, wiping away her tears and beginning to walk away. "I will be by the bridge." The moment she was out of earshot, Teagan began to speak hurriedly with the Wardens.
"Here's what I propose: I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passage. My signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will… distract whatever evil is inside and increase your chances of getting in unnoticed. What do you say?"
"What exactly are we supposed to do in there?"
"I wish I knew," Teagan admitted, pushing his hair out of his eyes wearily. "I don't know any more about this 'evil force' than Isolde seems to. Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance. If you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you. I don't think there's anyone else who can help you. If you choose not to go, then it's up to me to do what I can. Here is my signet ring. It will open the lock on the door in the mill."
He pulled a gaudy gold ring, engraved with the Guerrin 'G' off his ring finger, and dropped it into Arthur's palm. He quickly looked to make sure Isolde couldn't hear, then whispered in a conspiratorial mutter. "Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me, and anyone else… we're expendable."
"I understand. We'll do our best"
"You are a good man. The Maker smiled on me indeed, when He sent you to Redcliffe"
"So we're just going to send him with that woman?" Leliana asked, clearly not pleased with such an idea. "It seems so dangerous..."
"I've no doubt it is, dear lady, but I can delay no further. Allow me to bid you farewell… and good luck." Teagan inclined his head to them, clapping a hand on Alistair's shoulder as he passed, and then began to trudge up the hill after the arlessa.
"Well, are we going to stand watching the fool go to his death, or are we going to try and save him from whatever lies in wait within?" Morrigan demanded.
"But of course," Arthur murmured, ushering the other Warden, witch, bard and mabari to the mill door. The door swung open and they stepped into the mill's interior. They quickly found, covered by straw and sacks, a simple stone trapdoor with a depression in it the same size and shape as the ring. Inserting the ring into the depression and twisting elicited a soft click; pulling the stone hatch up, Arthur looked down to see a stone staircase descending into darkness.
"Well...ladies first" Alistair remarked dryly. Morrigan and Leliana both directed withering looks at him, and the templar, muttering darkly to himself, set off down the stairs. The staircase descended to a cold, dark tunnel, devoid of light and warmth. The only sounds emanating were the periodic dripping of water and the scratching of what was probably rats in the distance. With a click of her fingers, a ball of luminous blue flame erupted to life in Morrigan's palm, bringing welcome illumination to the tunnel.
The witch took the lead, the others trailing behind them. They walked in silence, any thoughts of conversation overcome by wonderings of what they were going to find inside the castle. Time was immeasurable; they could have been walking for ten minutes or an hour, they wouldn't have known. After an indeterminate amount of time, the light in Morrigan's hand illuminated a large, iron-bound oak door. Inserting Teagan's signet ring into a hole in the metal where the lock would have been and twisting it caused the door to swing open.
They appeared to be in a branch of the dungeons that had been long out of use; dust clung to nearly every surface and cobwebs hung in the corners of the walls. Bones festooned the floors of the long-unoccupied cells, rats openly gnawing on them in some cases.
"I locked myself in a cage, once, when I was a child. For an entire day. Ahh, good times." Alistair muttered to himself. Morrigan immediately leapt on the bait.
"More and more, I see why you were raised away from the courts. It must have been sooo hard for King Maric, trying to decide which of his dullard sons would embarrass him less as heir!"
Before Alistair could think up a suitable reply, a low hiss came from behind the door directly ahead of them. Arthur pulled the door open, to be greeted by a familiar sight; three more walking corpses were trying to smash down the door to another dungeon cell, a man's voice screaming in terror from within. "Get away from me!" the prisoner yelled.
The companions reacted immediately: Leliana quickly notched and loosed an arrow from her bow, the missile slamming into the head of one of the creatures with such force that it punched out the other side. The two remaining undead howled furiously at the intrusion but before they could do more, the sphere of blue fire in Morrigan's hand erupted into a stream of flame that engulfed both of them. As the two creatures screamed piteously and tried to put out the flames engulfing them, Arthur and Alistair drew their swords and hacked the undead apart.
"Hello? Who's there? Is there anyone alive out there?" the man in the cell called out weakly. The party approached the cell and took a close look at the captive. He was wearing the robes of a mage of the Circle, though stained with blood and in some places little more than rags, and sitting feebly at the floor of his cell. His dark brown hair was overgrown and matted; his hands had been manacled together and chained above his head and his wide eyes regarded the newcomers with a mixture of curiosity and fear. "You don't look like the arlessa's guards. Are you from outside the castle?"
"And who are you supposed to be?" Arthur snapped, though he had a strong suspicion. Edward growled angrily at the man, who kept one eye closely on the mabari's bared fangs before replying:
"My name is Jowan. I'm a mage Lady Isolde hired to tutor her son, Connor. Until they threw me in the dungeon here."
"You're the one who poisoned the arl" Alistair spat, the hatred in his voice clear. The mage's eyes went wide with fright, especially as he considered the drawn sword in Alistair's hand.
"I'm not proud of it!" he pleaded desperately. "The arlessa had no idea what I was hired to do when she took me in to tutor Connor. I… I know it looks suspicious, but I'm not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle. I was already imprisoned when all that began. At first, Lady Isolde came here with her men demanding that I reverse what I'd done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the arl. That's the first I heard about the walking corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe." He scoffed, as if he found the idea ridiculous, but his expression grew sombre. "She… she had me tortured. There was nothing I could do or say that would appease her. So they… left me to rot."
"If you're not proud of it, why did you do it?" Arthur asked, deciding to get some answers before Alistair killed the man out of hand.
"I was instructed to by Teyrn Loghain" Jowan replied simply.
"Loghain! Why am I not surprised?" Alistair roared behind him, and Jowan retreated even further back into his cell, away from the enraged former Templar and the blade in his hand.
"I was told that Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden; that if I dealt with him, Loghain would settle matters with the Circle. You see," he said, glancing anxiously up at them, "I'm a maleficar: a blood mage."
"You? A blood mage? Truly?" Morrigan enquired, a look of incredulity and amusement on her face at the very notion. "I would never have guessed."
"A blood mage!" Alistair exclaimed, his expression of dislike only growing stronger. "Well, that isn't good…"
"I dabbled in the forbidden arts, and they condemned me to death for it. I thought Loghain was giving me a chance to… redeem myself…" The man's head sank despairingly. "But he's abandoned me here, hasn't he? Everything's fallen apart, and I'm responsible! I have to make it right somehow, I have to!"
"So Loghain himself hired you?"
"Yes, when the templars caught me, they brought me to Denerim to await trial and execution. Eventually, someone came to see me. Alone. It was the teyrn; I'd seen paintings of him, so I knew. I thought he'd have me executed right there, but he said I could make up for my crime. He said I would be helping Ferelden..."
"And you believed him?" Alistair snapped.
"He only said Arl Eamon was a threat to the nation. Why wouldn't I believe Teyrn Loghain?" Jowan protested earnestly.
"But why did the arlessa need a mage to tutor her son?" Arthur asked.
"Connor had started to show… signs," Jowan explained rather worriedly. "Lady Isolde was terrified the Circle of Magi would take him away for training. It scared her because, as you know, a mage can't inherit a title, even the son of a powerful arl". That much Arthur knew to be true; he remembered back in his adolescence, near puberty, when his parents had at times watched him closely and on occasion, demanded to know if he had done anything that he couldn't explain. At the time, only a child, he hadn't understood it, but as he'd gotten older, Arthur had realised what his parents were doing; looking out for any sign or any action that would indicate the manifestation of magic, the threat of losing their pup to the Circle.
" She's also a pious woman. Her son having magic was...humiliating" Jowan concluded solemnly.
"Connor?" Alistair marvelled, eyebrows raised in incredulity. "A mage? I can't believe it!"
"She sought an apostate," Jowan continued, watching Alistair warily. "A mage outside the Circle, to teach her son in secret so he could learn to hide his talent. Her husband had no idea."
"Arl Eamon truly didn't know his son had magic?" Arthur questioned, surprised that the Arl would take so little interest in his son's upbringing; Bryce and Eleanor had made sure old Aldous kept them well-informed of his and Fergus's progress at their lessons growing up.
"No, the Arlessa was adamant he never find out. She said he would do the right thing, even if it meant losing their son. That infuriated her" Jowan confessed.
"How much magic did you teach Connor?" Arthur demanded; with the knowledge that Connor possessed magic, pieces were beginning to fall into place with worrying certainty...
"Some. But he's still very young. He can barely cast a minor spell- never mind something more powerful. At least, not intentionally." He paused, as if debating with himself, and then continued: "I have thought about it, and it is possible Connor could have inadvertently done something to tear open the Veil. With the Veil to the Fade torn, spirits and demons could infiltrate the castle. Powerful ones could kill and create those walking corpses."
"We know; you don't need to be a mage to work that out, any fool with half a brain could work it out!" Morrigan snapped. "Well, maybe not any fool..." she added with a grin at Alistair, but he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts to hear her.
"I never meant for it to end like this, I swear!" Jowan insisted suddenly, bolting to his feet with a look of determined zeal entering his eyes."Let me help you fix this."
"I say this boy could still be of use to us," Morrigan commented airily. "But if not, then let him go. Why keep him prisoner here?" Alistair glared at her, horrified and outraged at the very notion.
"Hey, hey! Let's not forget he's a blood mage! You can't just… set a blood mage free!"
"Better to slay him?" snapped the witch, stepping confrontationally towards Alistair. "Better to punish him for his choices? Is this Alistair who speaks, or the templar?" Alistair scowled at her.
"I'd say it`s common sense. We don't even know the whole story yet."
"He wishes to redeem himself. Doesn't everyone deserve that chance?" Leliana argued.
"Like yourself, you mean?" Morrigan sneered, the condescending look on her face saying clearly she'd heard everything Arthur and the bard had discussed that night in camp. Arthur sighed to himself; the witch's habit of eavesdropping was starting to get annoying. Leliana angrily puffed out her breast and curtly replied in a rather imperious tone "Everyone deserves to redeem themselves in the Maker's eyes; this man no less than any other!"
"Give me a chance, please!" pled Jowan desperately.
"So how will you make things right?" Jowan seemed surprised by the question.
"I'd… well," he stammered, "I'd try to save anyone still up there. There must be something I can do."
"And after that, what happens?"
"Afterwards?" The mage thought for a moment. "I assume I'll be arrested. Or executed. Or… whatever people like me get. I'm tired of running from the Circle. I need to account for what I've done."
"So if I were to just let you go…?"
"I'd stay and try to help, if I could," the mage told him, a note of determined certainty in his voice that Arthur was almost inclined to believe him...almost. "Perhaps I can help deal with whatever's been unleashed here."
"That's commendable, if it's true," Arthur muttered.
"I'm glad you think so" Jowan retorted curtly. "So now what?"
By way of an answer, Arthur strode up to the door, and slammed a booted foot into the lock; already partly damaged by the undead, the door swung open and Arthur strode into the cell.
"Don't try anything" he snapped at the shackled mage. Jowan looked at him with a look of astonishment.
"You're letting me out? Then what?"
"You're coming with us to put this mess right" was Arthur's cold reply. With that, the Warden drew his sword and struck at the chains binding the mage; Jowan flinched as the Green Blade passed within inches of his arms and head, but there was a loud crash as the iron links parted against the veridium blade. Before Jowan could protest or react, Arthur had pulled him to his feet and shoved him out of the cell. Leliana and Morrigan both gave him approving nods, but before anyone could react, Alistair, who'd been glaring at Jowan as though the mage were something unpleasant stuck to the sole of his boot, seized him by the scruff of the neck and growled in his ear in a deadly voice:
"Listen very carefully, blood mage. I'd happily kill you for what you did to the arl, if not for the fact my companion seems to think you're more use alive than dead. But be warned; you betray us, or give me the slightest reason to be suspicious, you'll be dead so fast, you won't have to time to breathe! Understand?". Taking Jowan's shocked nod for an answer, Alistair shoved the blood mage away from him and indicated the staircase out of the dungeons to the others.
"Let's go. We still need to find the arl and figure out what's going on here".
####################
Half an hour later found the group standing in the courtyard of Castle Redcliffe, watching the portcullis rise. The upper levels of the castle had been even more nightmarish; the castle chapel, the barracks, the armoury, the kitchens, the servants' quarters; all overrun by walking corpses who had once been the vassals of the house. And other dangers beside; Arl Eamon's personal complement of mabari warhounds, gone feral and rabid after so long trapped inside with nothing but the flesh of the dead to feed on. Shades and wraiths, twisted spirits of the Fade, hungry for the life force of mortals, prowled about; many foes lingered within the castle that refused to die until they'd been hacked to pieces. 'When all this is over, Arl Eamon will probably need the Grand Cleric to give this place an exorcism!' Arthur half-joked to himself, trying to distract himself from the fear that they were only going to find corpses as far as the arl, his brother and his wife were concerned.
For all of Alistair's fear, Jowan had not given them reason to distrust him any further; he'd even proven his worth when they'd heard a scream coming from one of the larders and gone to investigate, to find a girl in the garb of an arlessa's maid trapped in a corner, being menaced by two of the walking dead. The mage managed to cadge a lyrium potion from Morrigan and put it to use, conjuring a cone of frost that paralyzed the undead long enough for the others to destroy them. The girl turned out to be Valena, the blacksmith's daughter they'd been asked to find. Her relief at being alive only doubled when she learned that the village, and in particular her father Owen, were still alive and there was a way out of the castle to safety. Arthur sent Edward with her, the girl more willing to risk the tunnel through the dungeons with the protection of a mabari.
Before she departed, Valena directed them to a door through the kitchens that could lead them into the great hall, where she said she'd heard raised voices coming from. The door, unfortunately, turned out to be locked and barricaded from the other side, Morrigan concluded, by very powerful magic, thus necessitating a detour through the castle's cellars and into the courtyard, trying to allow Ser Perth and his men, who were standing beside the gatehouse, entry while holding off a revenant and its skeletal cohorts emerging from the castle grounds. However, the portcullis, clearly in need of repair, was slow to ascend, preventing the knights from moving to assist until after the undead were destroyed.
The portcullis completed its ascent and Ser Perth and his fellow knights stepped into the courtyard, their leader hailing the Wardens and their companions as the two parties met. "It's good you opened the gates; my men and I are anxious to see our arl again. Shall we enter the hall together? It must be taken and held if we are to regain control of the castle" Ser Perth questioned. With a nod from Arthur, the knights began to advance into the castle, the Wardens and their companions following behind.
Pushing open the castle's main doors, the companions and the knights quickly followed Ser Perth's lead into the main hall through a door directly ahead. The group entered the main hall and Arthur covered his nose and mouth with a choke of disgust, as did many of the others; several of Eamon's knights covered their faces, and Morrigan and Leliana wrinkled their noses in disdain: the ever-present stench of rotting flesh that hung within the interior of the castle was overpowering here. But the stench was nowhere near as disturbing as the strange spectacle at the far end of the hall. On the other side of the room, Isolde stood cowering, silent tears running down her cheeks, next to a boy of about ten or eleven that could only be her son, Connor. And before them, Bann Teagan was prancing around, cart-wheeling and back-flipping like a jongleur, a moronic grin plastered on his features. All around the chamber stood a number of the arl's surviving men-at-arms, their eyes glazed and unseeing, still and emotionless as statues as the intruders made their way to stand before the dais at the room's end.
The boy looked away from his uncle's impression of a jester to observe the interlopers and Arthur felt a chill run down his spine. There was something wrong in Connor's eyes that set his nerves on edge; a predatory scrutiny that was observing him, looking for weakness. A malevolent grimace contorted the boy's lips, a scowl of annoyance at the intrusion as the group stopped before him, and looked up at Isolde, who was silently weeping. With a wave of the boy's hand, Teagan stopped his antics and sank to the floor by his nephew's side.
So these are our visitors?" Connor growled in a voice far rougher and deeper than anything a boy of his age should sound like. There was also a rasping echo to his words, as though two voices were speaking simultaneously.
"Y-yes, Connor," Isolde was saying between sobs, clearly terrified of her own child.
"And this is the one who defeated my soldiers? The ones I sent to reclaim my village?" Connor pointed a claw-like hand in accusation at Arthur, his blue eyes narrowed. "And now it's staring at me! What is it, Mother? I can't see it well enough." Isolde looked almost apologetically at the Wardens before she responded, her eyes downcast to the floor.
"This… this is just a man, Connor. Like your father…"
"Oh, I'm tired of hearing about him!" the boy, or whatever he had become, rasped in a voice that was more a reptilian hiss. "Besides, he's nothing at all like Father. Look at him! Breathing and not dying in the slightest! I could change that, mind you," he added as a malevolent afterthought, still glaring angrily at the intruders.
"C-Connor, I beg you, don't hurt anyone!" Isolde pleaded, dropping to her knees and seizing her son's hand in desperate entreaty. The boy turned his cold gaze on her, and then blinked. As he opened his eyes, Arthur saw the malevolent look in the boy's gaze fade away, and something human returned to those bright blue eyes, wide with fright and confusion.
"M-Mother?" he asked uncertainly, "What… what's happening? Where am I?"
"Oh, thank the Maker!" Isolde cried, joyfully enfolding her son in her arms "Connor! Connor, can you hear me?" Suddenly, the boy blinked again, and when his eyes reopened, the foul gleam in them had returned. With an angry snarl, Connor struck his mother a vicious blow, sending her sprawling to the floor.
"Get away from me, fool woman! You are beginning to bore me!" he bellowed at her, the arlessa clutching the vivid red handprint on her cheek, her face slack with horror.
"Maker's Breath! What has happened here?" Ser Perth demanded, the uneasy fear in his voice clear.
Isolde unsteadily got back to her feet, clutching her slapped cheek. She turned to the Wardens again, face soaked with tears.
"Grey Warden," she pleaded to Arthur. "Please don't hurt my son! He's not responsible for what he does!"
"He is the evil force you spoke of?," Arthur asked incredulously, feeling more sick and astonished than ever. Alistair and Leliana gave him questioning looks at the accusation, but Arthur ignored them, trying not to collapse or vomit, because both seemed apt reactions to this insanity. This was like Highever all over again; the life and soul of an innocent child taken by some foul evil. Connor was only a few years older than Oren, and Arthur had a terrible feeling that Connor's fate would be like his poor nephew's, only this time it would be him, not an anonymous thug wielding the executioner's blade...
"No!" Isolde screamed piteously. "Don't say that!"
"So the boy has become an abomination and sundered the Veil?" Morrigan asked rhetorically, caught between disappointment and amusement.
"C-Connor didn't mean to do this!" Isolde insisted, trying vainly to staunch her tears. "I-It was that mage, the one who poisoned Eamon- he started all of this! H-he summoned this demon! Connor was just trying to help his father!"
"And made a deal with the demon to do so? Foolish child" the witch sighed, shaking her head ruefully. Arthur could understand her logic; every day of Morrigan's life back in the Wilds had been lived with a perfect example of how trying to cut deals with demons never worked out well.
"It was a fair deal!" the possessed Connor snarled, fists clenched. "Father is alive, just as I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to conquer the world! Nobody tells me what to do anymore!"
"Nobody tells him what to do!" echoed Bann Teagan loudly. "Nobody! Ha-ha!" Connor's eyes narrowed maliciously, before the boy darted forward and dealt his uncle a hefty clout round the back of the head, who was sent sprawling, the same moronic grin plastered on his features.
"Quiet, uncle. I warned you what would happen if you kept shouting, didn't I? Yes, I did." The baleful glare of the entity staring from behind Connor's eyes turned back to Arthur. "But let's keep things civil. This man will have the audience he seeks. Tell us… what have you come here for?"
"We need to see Arl Eamon" Arthur replied, hoping his response would provoke an aggressive response from the possessed child; 'Surely it can't find fault with that, not after all the trouble it's gone to saving the man's life?' he thought hopefully.
"So you're a concerned well-wisher. Why didn't you just say that in the first place? All this sneaking around and killing is so unnecessary! But…" Connor sighed, followed by a malevolent snicker "…Father is so very ill. We really shouldn't disturb him. Isn't that right, Mother?" His attention suddenly returned to Isolde, who jumped with fright at being addressed again.
"I… I don't think…"
"Of course you don't!" the abomination snapped dismissively. "Ever since you sent the knights away, you do nothing but deprive me of my fun. Frankly, it's getting dull. I crave excitement! And action!" he exclaimed, clawing at the air with outstretched hands and a terrible enthusiasm. "This man spoiled my sport by saving that stupid village, and now he'll repay me!" With that, the boy bolted for a nearby door. As he ran, Morrigan shot an arcane bolt of magic at him in the hope of stopping Connor before he escaped, but she missed; the abomination gave an all-too human scream and ran for its life out of the room.
But Connor's scream seemed to have been a command for the guards to attack; coming to their senses, the soldiers around the room drew their swords and leapt to the attack, as did Bann Teagan. "Don't kill them!" Alistair yelled as he, the others and Eamon's knights drew their own weapons. Arthur didn't know if anyone had heard him until he saw Ser Perth and his fellow knights were using their shields and the pommels and flats of their blades to subdue the men-at-arms. Leliana, likewise, used her daggers to inflict crippling, but non-lethal wounds to the guards, severing hamstrings and tendons, while Morrigan conjured more ice magic to freeze and paralyze any that tried to attack her. By contrast, Isolde cowered in a corner, whimpering in fright, while Jowan, who'd been trying to stay out of sight the moment they entered the great hall, had disappeared into a side room and shut himself in the second violence erupted.
'Not that I expected any different' Arthur thought as he blocked the blow of a mindless guard with his shield, before deciding to deal with the mage afterwards, as he slammed the pommel of the Green Blade into the man's forehead, resulting in near-immediate concussion. A second blow completed the transition to unconsciousness.
The man toppled to the floor, and Arthur saw all the other guards were also down, either unconscious or feebly clutching at crippling wounds. The only combatants remaining were Alistair and Bann Teagan, their blades locked as each tried to overcome the other.
"Come on, Teagan!" Alistair cried desperately, blocking a second blow with his shield, unwilling to fight back for fear of hurting the other man. "Come to your senses!". There was no response from the Bann, other than to increase the speed and ferocity of his blows; however, the Bann had his back turned to the others, and Ser Perth took advantage of this to slam the pommel of his greatsword into the back of Teagan's head. Teagan hit the floor with a loud thud, limp as a rag doll. Isolde gave a scream of horror and ran to her brother-in-law's side.
"Maker's Blood! Is he-?" Alistair blurted, dreading the answer. Arthur dropped beside Bann Teagan and put a hand to the man's neck. Instantly, he could feel a pulse, strong and steady. "He's alright" said Arthur, and Alistair and Isolde both let out sighs of relief. Bann Teagan gave a weary groan as he came to his senses, groggily shaking his head and rubbing the back of it where he'd been struck; there would be a fine lump there by tomorrow. Isolde held out a hand for the man to help himself to his feet, fretting all the while.
"Teagan! Teagan, are you alright?"
"I am… better now, I think. My mind is my own again." He rubbed the spot on his head the blow had landed, and then gave orders for Ser Perth and his knights to move the defeated guards into another room and lock them in for safety, until they could be certain the men were once again in their right minds.
"Blessed Andraste! I would never have forgiven myself had you died, not after I brought you here. What a fool I am!" Isolde murmured, eyes downcast, before desperately turning her attention to the Wardens. "Please! Connor's not responsible for this! There must be some way we can save him!"
"You knew about this all along," Arthur accused quietly: the arlessa's idiot ambition and refusal to own up to her mistakes had caused this, caused all the death and horror that plagued the surrounding land.
"I… yes. I didn't tell you because I believed we could help him. I still do" Isolde reluctantly confessed.
"I am sorry, my lady," Jowan surprised everybody by saying, stepping out from the side room where he had been cowering "but Connor has become an abomination. He's no longer your son." The arlessa's face contorted with rage, and Jowan cowered away as she pointed a condemning finger at him.
"YOU! You did this to Connor!"
"I didn't! I didn't summon any demon, I told you!" Jowan defended himself, trying to duck behind Alistair, who grabbed him by his bloodied robes and pulled him back into view. "Please, if you'll let me help-"
"Help?" Isolde shrieked like a banshee, her pretty face a mask of venomous hatred. Her hands clenched into fists and Teagan wisely moved his sword out of the arlessa's reach, lest she try to draw it on the mage. "You betrayed me! I took you in when no one else would! I sheltered you from the Circle! I brought you here to help my son and in return you poisoned my husband!" Teagan frowned, and his gaze switched rapidly between his sister-in-law and Jowan.
"This is the mage you spoke of? Didn't you say he was in the dungeon?"
"He was. I assumed the creatures had killed him by now. He must have been set free," she spat, directing a withering look at Arthur. The youth evenly held her gaze, refusing to look away.
"I thought he'd be useful, seeing as he helped start this."
"Useful?" the arlessa sputtered, clearly outraged by the very notion. "After everything he did, he should be executed! Without him, none of this would have happened!"
"Your secrecy made his actions possible, Isolde" Teagan interjected in a rather cold tone of voice.
"But I…" Isolde's anger faded into shock, astounded by Teagan speaking against her.
"I know… what you must think of me, my lady," Jowan continued, bowing his head and clasping his hands behind his back. "I took advantage of your fear. I am sorry. I… never knew it would come to this."
"Well," Teagan sighed "I shan't turn away his help. Not yet. And if Connor is truly an abomination…"
"He is not always the demon you saw!" Isolde protested, disliking the way the conversation was going. "Connor is still inside him, and sometimes he breaks through. Please, I just want to protect him!"
"Isn't that what started this?" asked Teagan, exasperated. "You hired the mage to teach Connor in secret… to protect him."
"If they discovered Connor had magic, then they'd take him away! I thought if he learned just enough to hide it, then…"
"So you had no idea the mage you took in to tutor him was an assassin?" Arthur cut across her whimpering protests.
"No, I trusted Loghain. Why wouldn't I? How could I have known the mage he sent would be a murderer?" she asked.
"Aside from the fact he never bothers to hide the fact he holds anything remotely connected to your homeland in contempt? The implications he murdered your nephew by marriage?" Arthur snapped, shaking his head at Isolde's foolishness. Surely she should have suspected something was amiss when Loghain, a man whose hatred for anything remotely Orlesian was legendary, had come to Isolde, offering her the one thing she wanted more than anything?
It seemed Teagan was of the same mind as Arthur. "And Eamon knew nothing of your plan? Isolde, do you not realise what you've done?"
A portion of Isolde's earlier stubbornness returned to her as she angrily retorted "Eamon would only demand we do the right thing! I was not going to lose my son! Not to...to magic!" she spat, making the word a curse.
"Would that have been so terrible?" Arthur asked. 'Surely, losing him to the Circle is better than losing his life?'
"Magic...runs in my family" Isolde sobbed regretfully. "The ones who had it were all wicked, sinful men. I, I didn't know what to do when I found out!"
"And so you brought doom to us all, and death to your own son!" Teagan angrily snapped. Isolde's face blanched white with terror as she shook her head, desperately pleading "NO! There must be another way! There must be some way we can save him!"
Where did Connor go?" Leliana questioned. "Why did the boy run?"
"I think he ran upstairs, to the family quarters" Teagan supplied.
"Violence...scares him" Isolde added. "I know that sounds strange. He may have run upstairs to his room, or..."
"He might be lying in wait?" Arthur tentatively offered.
"I don't know. The fighting may have scared Connor into coming out, and so he ran" said Isolde.
"So you're saying he may be vulnerable?" Teagan asked, a grim finality in his words.
"Perhaps" Isolde agreed reluctantly, fresh tears sliding down her cheeks. "Is-is there no other way?"
"Where is my brother? Where is Eamon?" Teagan asked, cutting her off. Arthur and the others paid close attention at this, fearing that they would hear the arl was dead, and with him, any chance of aid against Loghain.
"Upstairs, in his room. I think the demon has been keeping him alive," she said, crying again.
"So," postulated the bann, pushing his hair behind his ear, "if we destroy the demon, then…?"
"Then my husband may perish, yes"
"What are our options?" Arthur asked. Alistair cleared his throat.
"I wouldn't normally suggest slaying a child, but… he's an abomination. I'm not sure there's any choice," he said, clearly loathing himself for his response, particularly at the pitiful expression on Isolde's face.
"We can't kill a young boy, demon or no demon! Please tell me we're not considering this!" Leliana angrily interjected.
Teagan spoke up, his face sorrowful but determined. "Connor is my nephew, but..."he paused, with a sad look at the boy's mother "He is also possessed by a demon. Death would be...merciful".
"There is… another option," Jowan spoke up again, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "Though I… loathe offering it. A mage could confront the demon in the Fade, without hurting Connor himself."
"What do you mean? Is the demon not within Connor?" asked the bann. Jowan shook his head.
"Not physically. The demon approached Connor in the Fade while he dreamt, and controls him from there. We can use the connection between them to find the demon."
"You can enter the Fade, then? And kill the demon without hurting my boy?" Isolde asked, her tears stopping and a hopeful light entering her eyes.
"No, but I can enable another mage to do so. It normally requires lyrium and several mages, but I have… blood magic." Immediately, Arthur and Alistair took a step away, a grimace of distaste on their faces.. Seeing the bann and arlessa's uncomprehending expressions, Jowan quickly launched into an explanation.
"Lyrium provides the power for the ritual. But I can take that power from someone's life energy. This ritual requires a lot of it, however. All of it, in fact," he finished softly.
"So… someone must die? Someone must be sacrificed?" asked Teagan, quietly horrified.
"Yes, and then we send another mage into the Fade. I can't enter because I'm doing the ritual. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything," he discredited himself, stepping down. "It's… not much of an option…"
"Blood magic is forbidden; it is not an option at all!" Arthur curtly snapped; his last encounter with such dark arts, of what Zathrian had done with such, did not leave him with a good opinion of what could be accomplished with such. Jowan nodded and sighed "I know, I just thought..."
"I disagree. Let it be my blood. I will be the sacrifice," Isolde volunteered out of nowhere, catching them all off guard. Teagan was the first to regain his capacity for speech.
"What?" Teagan blurted, staring at her in disbelief. "Isolde, are you mad? Eamon would never allow this!"
"Either someone kills my son to destroy that thing inside him or I give my life so my son can live. To me, the answer is clear."
"Blood magic," Alistair spat distastefully. "How can more evil be of any help here? Two wrongs don't make a right."
"It does seem like a sensible choice," Morrigan disagreed calmly, "with a willing participant."
"Connor is blameless in this," Isolde went on, entreating to them all. "He should not have to pay the price."
Teagan gave a sigh of exasperation, and then reluctantly turned to Arthur. "It… it's up to you, my friend. You know more about such things than I do, and it's your companion going into the Fade. The decision is yours."
"Are you truly prepared to give up your life, Lady Isolde?" Arthur asked.
"If there is even a chance to save my son, then I am" she replied resolutely.
"You are willing to trust this young mage?" Teagan asked incredulously. "He poisoned Eamon, and for all we know, he could take your life power and attack!". But Isolde merely placed a placating hand on his arm and solemnly answered "He would be a fool to try. No, I am willing to take him at his word. I will give my life to undo what I have done"
"I still don't think this is a good idea..." Arthur muttered, his misgivings about using the services of a maleficar returning.
"Save my son and you will be rewarded" Isolde added desperately. "His life means more to me than anything, even my own"
"You can't keep your promises when you're dead, woman..." Morrigan coldly pointed out.
"Teagan will know the promise I have made, and he can convince Eamon to uphold it"
"I'm not certain my brother will be happy to learn we sacrificed his beloved wife to blood magic" Teagan muttered angrily under his breath. Isolde heard him and whirled round to face him, her face stern and determined.
"You are mistaken. He will see that we saved his son. If Connor dies, he is left only with a wife who...lied to him".
Frustrated by the weight put on his shoulders, Arthur turned away, rubbing his temples to alleviate the stress of having to decide the fate of hand. "There must be another way to enter the Fade."
"You can find lyrium and more mages at the Circle of Magi- if they would even do it," Alistair suggested half-heartedly.
"The Circle tower at Kinloch Hold is not far from here," Arthur mused.
"That is an excellent point," the other Warden noted. "One of the treaties is also for the Circle of Magi, after all." Arthur rubbed his chin in deep thought, mulling the benefits of killing two birds with one stone against the risk of leaving Redcliffe in its current state with the demon's still-present threat looming over the village.
"The tower is about a day's journey across the lake," Teagan added. "You could attempt to get the mages' help."
"But what will happen here?" Isolde put forward. "Connor will not remain passive forever!"
"I will take that risk" Arthur replied. "Bann Teagan, we will need three days worth of supplies and the fastest horses in Redcliffe's stables".
The Bann nodded "Very well. I will keep Jowan here as a precaution; he says he wishes to help, so he will help keep an eye on Connor for us".
"I will likewise leave Morrigan and Sten here to assist your efforts; another mage will no doubt be useful in keeping the demon in check".
"And the qunari?"
"If the demon re-emerges and poses a threat before we return from the Circle, then...I am sorry, but Connor will have to die; it will be the only way to end this. If that happens...the task will be Sten's to perform". Isolde whimpered fearfully but Teagan silenced her: he understood that if the Wardens failed to return with aid from the Circle in time, there would be no other alternative.
Teagan clapped a hand on Arthur's shoulder. "You're a good man for trying this. Go to the tower then; the longer you are away, the greater the chances of disaster".
In less than half an hour, Arthur and the companions he'd chosen to follow him to the Circle: Alistair, Leliana and Zevran, were on the Imperial Highway leading out of Redcliffe, heading north towards the only crossing point he knew between the mainland and the island in Lake Calenhad's centre that housed the Fereldan Circle of Magi. Edward ran alongside the black warhorse Arthur sat astride, the warhound having refused to stay behind upon recovering him from the village. The other three also rode upon fine horses taken from the stables of Redcliffe castle; the undead that had prowled the castle seemed to have only been interested in human prey, leaving the castle's animal inhabitants unharmed. Along with their riders, the horses carried in their saddlebags enough supplies to last three days; hopefully enough time to get to the Circle, convince the mages to return with them to Redcliffe and get back to the arling before it was too late.
The decision was a gamble, to be sure, but Arthur was willing to take it. In his opinion, this option was the only option. Arlessa Isolde had been right about one thing: her son did not deserve to pay the price for her stupid mistakes. The boy's only mistake had been in turning to the demon, and while it had been the wrong thing to do, Arthur couldn't fault Connor's reason for doing so. 'Could I honestly say I would not have done the same if it were my father's life on the line? Or Mother's, or Fergus's? Could anyone honestly say they wouldn't do the same, to save the ones they love?' No, Connor didn't deserve to die for trying to do the right thing, no matter how misguided.
As for the second option, while Arthur could not deny there would be poetic justice in using Isolde's life to restore the mess she had created, his newfound distaste for blood magic would not allow him to agree to such, and despite Jowan's seeming earnest desire to make amends for his actions, it could as Teagan suspected all be an act to help him escape, either simply to freedom or back to his master. Better to keep the mage weak and unable to do harm, rather than give him the power to perform this ritual and discover too late that the blood mage never meant to keep his word.
If they succeeded, they would save the life of an innocent child, nullifying the evil that threatened the village below, and as a bonus, they would have accomplished another part of their mission and claimed the loyalty of the Circle to the Grey Wardens' cause.
If they failed...well, it would be one more thing he would have to answer to the Maker for.