The group of them crashed through the forest like so many brontos. Loghain winced at the noise, but there was little he could do about it. Neither he nor Oghren was exactly built for stealth—they made enough noise for the whole party. The path to the ruins was clear enough, worn deep by countless boys tramping through the forest to explore. The lad Loghain had met in the village had pointed the way. He'd considered bringing the boy along, but not knowing what they were walking into hadn't wanted to put the child in danger.

As they came into a small clearing, Shianni stopped moving, looking around anxiously. "Grenny, you feel that?"

"May I brown my britches if I don't," he said. "Sodding elf's around here somewhere."

Loghain concentrated, and thought he could feel a faint buzz just under his skin. "Can we follow that?" He hated asking Oghren for advice on … anything, really, but the dwarf had been a Warden for longer than Loghain had, and he'd spent the Blight with two of them. He ought to know.

"Gets stronger as you get closer. But 'cause there's three of us, if we spread out too much we'll just be followin' each other instead o' focusin' on witchy woman down there."

"Might as well stay together, then," Loghain said. He'd have preferred to spread out and cover more ground, but what Oghren had said made sense. No point in the three Wardens stumbling around the forest trying to find each other; and none of them knew enough woodcraft to hunt the missing elf in more traditional ways.

The buzzing under Loghain's skin grew stronger as they moved closer. The ruins were in view now; not Tevinter, as he had assumed they would be, but even older. Elvish.

Suddenly an arrow sped through the air, the rustling of leaves in its wake the only notice of its passage. It embedded itself firmly in the thigh of one of the recruits, who stumbled and fell with a cry of pain. Loghain felt a strange measure of relief now that battle was joined. This, at least, he understood. This he knew how to do.

"Shianni." Her name suited itself well to communicating in whispers. Loghain jerked his head in the direction from which the arrows had come. Shianni nodded, moving swiftly into the surrounding forest. The wounded recruit had dragged himself under a tree and was wrapping a field bandage around his leg, Loghain noted with approval. It was always good to have a clear head under pressure. Even at a cursory glance, Loghain could tell the arrow had missed the artery. The recruit was out of this particular battle, but he would live. At least until his Joining.

With quick motions, he indicated the directions the other recruits were to go in. More arrows were flying through the air now, and Loghain shouted to everyone to get down. Oghren, blade lifted above his head, was charging forward, an unearthly howl coming from his mouth as arrows bounced off his armor. There was no question, dwarven craftmanship wasn't to be beaten.

There were men emerging from the forest now, meeting Oghren's onrush with their blades. With a flash of surprise, Loghain recognized bits and pieces of Templar armor. Were they scavengers, wearing things they had picked up here and there, or were they actual Templars?

"Attack!" Loghain shouted, drawing his own sword, and he moved forward confidently. "Try to take one alive, if you can!" He was going to need some answers.

When the Templars returned for them, Velanna hoped there had been enough time for Carroll to have found a proper amount of lyrium. Being locked away in this dungeon, far from the sun, able to feel nature around her but not to access it, was taking a toll on her. It wasn't helping Morrigan, either. The other woman's eyes had become more feral, and she watched Velanna with an expression the elf didn't entirely like.

As she moved down the hallway with her arm in the Templar's ungentle grip, Velanna went over the plan in her head again. She wished she didn't have to rely so much on Morrigan, but the other woman had steadfastly refused to consume the amount of lyrium required, so that left Velanna with the choice of either taking it herself, or coming up with a better plan.

Carroll was waiting for them in the laboratory. His eyes were wide and his hands were shaking, although Velanna couldn't have told whether that was fear or lyrium. He waved the other Templars out of the room, his eyes fixed on Morrigan's.

One of the Templars paused at the door, his helmet turned toward Carroll.

"What are you looking at?" Carroll's voice cracked on the last word. "I'm in charge, you know I'm in charge!"

Velanna wouldn't have left the room had she been the Templar—Carroll certainly didn't sound like someone who ought to be in charge. But the metal-covered shoulders shrugged and the Templar left, closing the door.

"Now," Carroll whispered, his eyes gleaming, "where were we?"

"Do you have the lyrium?" Morrigan's imperious tone was gone, replaced by an eagerness that disturbed Velanna almost as much as Carroll's.

His eyes cut to the door and back. "Yes. It wasn't easy—they're suspicious, you know. Templars take their lyrium very seriously." He giggled.

"Get control of yourself," Morrigan snapped.

Velanna saw a flash in Carroll's eyes, a sudden clarity. He cleared his throat. "Yes. Sorry about that."

Morrigan shook her head. He wasn't the most reliable tool, certainly, but he was all they had.

"Let's have it, then," Velanna said. "This process may take a while."

Carroll looked at her, chewing on his lower lip. "Are you sure about this?"

"If we do not try this, what will we try? Bleeding mages dry has not worked for you." Morrigan took a deep breath. "What can go wrong? I am here to help you, Velanna is willing to attempt this experiment. Think how grateful your leader will be when you solve this question. You may be rewarded."

"You think?" The understanding in his eyes gave way to a glazed-over look. Velanna almost pitied the man. It seemed clear that once he had been unusually intelligent for a shem, and because of their Chantry he was doomed to this half-life, trying to make use of a brain that simply did not work right any longer.

Carroll crossed the room, picking up a crate that clinked. He carried it back to where the women were chained, lifting a shimmering blue bottle reverently. He held it to Velanna's lips, his eyes watching hungrily as she drank.

Velanna could already feel the effects as the lyrium moved through her system. She flexed her fingers, feeling the power surge there. It was incredibly frustrating to be able to feel all that power but not have the ability to access it. "Another."

And that was how it went, for longer than Velanna could keep track of. The lyrium, tingling and powerful, poured down her throat and working its way through her body, over and over again. She giggled drunkenly at nothing, her head lolling loosely on her shoulders, and through all of it she reached vainly for the power that thrummed through her veins, so tantalizingly out of reach. At some point she was dimly aware of begging Carroll to take the bracers off, to let her touch the power just once.

At last, she hung in the chains, able to see and hear nothing beyond the song of the lyrium flooding her.

"Now," Morrigan said to Carroll. "You can see that the lyrium has leached the magic from her system. Remove the bracers, put them on yourself, and you will be able to access all her power."

Velanna felt the brush of Carroll's fingers against her arms. Suddenly the pressure was lifted, the power no longer heavy and dull within her veins but sharp and strong. She raised her hands, staring at them as though she'd never seen them before. In the time she had been down here—days? weeks?—she'd almost forgotten what this felt like. She reached out with her mind, touching the forces of nature that lurked beneath and around and above these walls, and she heard herself laughing.

"What's wrong with her? Why can't I feel anything? Are you sure this is working? I can't feel it working," Carroll said.

"Just wait," Morrigan cooed. "Velanna."

The other mage's sharp voice cut into the exultation Velanna felt. There was something she was supposed to do. Someone needed her help. Morrigan? She needed to—use her power. That was it. Use her power to—tear down the walls! Yes! The exposed tree root she had noticed before leaped to life, cracks forming in the wall above it.

"Hey!" shouted Carroll, turning to glare at the root.

"Unfasten me, you fool," Morrigan snapped.

Velanna looked at her in confusion for a moment. Then ice shot from her fingers, freezing the manacles that held Morrigan to the wall, followed by an arcane blast that landed sloppily next to the frozen chain—just barely close enough to snap it. Morrigan yanked her upper body free just as Carroll whirled on both of them.

"You tricked me," he said, almost sorrowfully. "I knew Cullen was right. Can't trust them, he said."

"Velanna!" Morrigan shouted. Carroll was reaching for the other mage, a wicked dagger gleaming sharply in his hand. Where had that come from? Velanna wondered, struggling against the tiredness that was seeping into her very bones.

She spoke words she herself could barely understand in this state, and the tree root from the wall grew, snaking along the floor to grasp Carroll's ankle, yanking him backward.

There was a lot of noise suddenly. Yelling and crashing and thumping, and Velanna just wanted to go to sleep.

"Unbelievable."

Morrigan's annoyance cut through the sleepy fog surrounding Velanna, and she struggled toward awareness, but it was too difficult. The lyrium was a lullaby in her head, and Velanna hummed along with it.

Truthfully, Morrigan wasn't certain which of them she was most angry with—Velanna for completely losing her head to the lyrium, or herself for not predicting it. She did have to admit, the elf had taken care of Carroll rather neatly, even in her lyrium-addled state. The Templar was tied to the wall by a tree root, struggling incoherently. But the Templars outside were pounding at the door. Morrigan herself had only just managed to remove the bracers and throw up a barrier around the door. Holding the barrier steady was taking most of her energy, and she didn't dare have any of the remaining lyrium, fearing its effect on the child.

This was not exactly how the plan had been supposed to go, she thought angrily amidst the din of Carroll's cries, the Templars banging at the door, and Velanna humming drunkenly. Not how it was supposed to go at all.