Even if she wouldn't admit it to herself, Gudrun could not get enough of that soft crunch the snow made beneath her feet. Everything about it was a delight, the slight pressure her foot had to make to break the layer of snow, the gentle sound it elicited, the silence and chill and filled the place. She would not admit it to herself nor anyone that asked; there shouldn't be any distractions between heer and the objective: entering Soldier's Peak and kicking out whatever it was that had a hold on the place.
Dryden had sworn it had been the last bastion of the Grey Wardens before they were driven out of Ferelden, and it seemed reasonable to think that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to find some useful knowledge on how to face a Blight.
Snow was just a novelty, but did make the trip more pleasant, it had to be said.
The keep cut a sharp, dark silhouette against the grey sky, and she heard a couple of her companions let out whistles of appreciation and awe when its towers finally became visible between the snowy hills.
"Ooohh… so that's how a cursed abandoned castle really looks like," Alistair, somehow managing to hide his apprehension behind a joke. Gudrun didn't agree with this method, but she had to give it to him, he really put in all his work on it.
Behind her, Morrigan was also quick with her retort, "As if we haven't seen enough of those lately. In case you missed it, Alistair, your precious Redcliff was also cursed."
"That's only because you were sulking around the place."
"Oi! Shush you two!" she chastised them, "cursed or not, the place could still have some guests. Don't want half the castle alerted just because someone always has too have the last word."
She felt them sulk for a few moments, but as much as they liked to behave that way Morrigan and Alistair were no children, and changed their demeanor to match her own as they crossed the short tunnel Dryden had indicated to appear right at the base of the castle's courtyard.
"Right, master Dryden, I think it'd be best if you remained here. If there is nothing to worry about we'll call you back. Otherwise… well…" she chewed a little on her words, thinking about the twists and turns of life, "if worst comes to worst, you must let bann Teagan know what happened here."
Everybody stared at her in alarmed silence, everyone except for Zevran, who just seemed cold.
A sudden thought came to her, paranoid as someone who had already been stabbed in the back at the worst possible moment, "Actually… Zevran. You should stay here, with Levi. Just in case."
"I appreciate the concern, but I don't think I am in any danger here…"
"It's not for you, my buon huomo," the elf smiled at her, not unkindly, "it's for their own peace of mind that I am to stay behind."
"W-what? why?"
"He is terribly afraid of ghosts," Gudrun replied, deadpan, "he could become a nuisance."
She saw Alistair scrunch his face and Miach cover his mouth, both desperately attempting to contain their laughter.
"As you wish, signora. I will stay here." His voice was soft, his smile was playful, and for the life of her, Gudrun could not see any lies there.
She had believed in his intentions, but the time would come where his true resolve would be put to the test, and she would learn what this one was really made of.
Leaving the pair behind, the four wardens and their other 4 companions walked up the ruined road to the Keep and crossed the threshold in absolute silence.
The courtyard seemed calm enough, undisturbed. Ruined old buildings had fallen beneath the weight of a century of snow and frost. She had no way of knowing if this was normal, but a look at her more worldly friends told her there was definitely something amiss in there.
Miach looked up at the towers and the trees, "No crows…" then at the ground, "no foxes or big cats…"
Morrigan nodded at this, and then looked at Iola. The young mage bit her lip, "You feel it, right? There is something here…"
"It's the veil, girls," the old woman completed, "It's weak, very weak."
"What is the veil?", Gudrun said, demanding her explanation.
"It's what separates our world from the Fade. A layer of reality. If it didn't exist, the world would look very different indeed."
"Even for us? Dwarves, I mean."
"For all of us."
"This is starting to look a lot like Redcliff…" no sooner she had uttered those words, her right hear caught again the lovely soft crunch of the snow under a foot. But that couldn't be right, because all her companions were standing at her left. Instinctively, she lifted up her shield, and it was well on time, because an arrow got stuck in it almost immediately.
Another arrow and a bolt of white magic passed her by and hit what she now knew to be a walking corpse. "Far too much!"
The corpses were not unlike those they'd fought in Redcliff either, but they were present in less numbers, and they were able to fight them off, although the air was thick with static.
"Bet there's more and worse where those came from…" Alistair muttered under his breath.
Morrigan seemed to shiver, "For once, I agree. These shades have been undisturbed for so long… the veil is thin, we could face much worse inside. Wouldn't it be prudent to leave things be?"
"We can't leave the last bastion of the Grey Wardens to rot!"
"I don't think we have time to waste stroking your ego or Dryden's. Maybe our efforts could be spent elsewhere."
"It would be less prudent to leave demons unchecked," said Wynne, stepping in to back Alistair.
"If there is a demon, it's kept itself busy for this long, I doubt we'll do anyone any favors by interrupting…"
Miach was done staying silent too, "Morrigan is right, we don't know what we could find in there."
"But what if there is someone there?" Leliana suggested, "Someone like… Connor."
"ENOUGH!" When Gudrun shouted, the snow rippled, "Stone you lot are difficult! Yes Morrigan, you are correct, Dryden's honor is not high on my list of priorities, but the Wardens are. Unless anyone is part of another secret order tasked with defeating the Blight, we need all the information we can get from the Grey Wardens. And right now, this means taking back Soldier's Peak. This is the last place where the Ferelden Grey held any real knowledge of their history and I intend to scour it to the last room. If there are any demons inside they better be holding lamps to the books because otherwise they can run or they can bite it!"
Silence fell. Gudrun searched the faces of the comrades she'd just scolded like children and found that Sten's stony expression was threatening to break into a grin. She held his gaze a moment, then she asked Alistair what would be the best way to go into the Keep.
As Miach and the templar took the lead, she fell back to walk with the qunari.
"Say it, I know you're dying to say it."
"They lack discipline. You can't teach them."
"I'm not trying to."
"A commander shouldn't have to shout to wield respect."
"I didn't shout to make them respect me I did it to make them stop talking."
"It's the same thing."
She breathed. In and out, "I have led men before, Sten."
"So you claim."
Gudrun grunted, there was no point in arguing. If he didn't believe her she wasn't going to change his mind by complaining.
He huffed, "Soldiers maybe. They are not soldiers."
"You're right. They shouldn't be, but what would you do? Can I seek the counsel of the Sten?"
"I only lead qunari, bas. My advice cannot serve you."
Gudrun almost laughed. In anyone else, that answer would be a sign of doubt, or cheek, but Sten was sincere. His words held no malice. He was right of course, for him and for her; the old rules didn't apply anymore. There was no rank among them, no titles to hold over, no castes, no hierarchy. There was no honor to uphold up in the surface ,only duty; and no allegiance, just their trust.
They stopped right at the end of a goats path, next to a little door.
"It's jammed," Alistair said, "I could kick it down bu then whatever is inside will hear us."
"Then we must be ready. Iola and Morrigan will cover you. Miach, you and me go in as soon as the door is down. We'll let you know if we need to retreat. Let's go."
They broke in and were only greeted by stale silence and dust. There was little left there that could identify the room with the old kitchen except for what must have been an oven and a few rotten copper pots. Not even rats dignified that larder with their presence.
"It's colder than the outside…"
"It's the Veil," Wynn explained, "There must be a tear somewhere around this place."
"It would explain the undead…"
Gudrun heard Miach's nervous laugh and knew immediately trouble had finally found them.
"And that..?" he said, snickering, pointing at a shadow that was creeping up a wall, "would it explain that?"
He barely had time to say it and a blast of Iola's blue spirit magic smacked the shadow right in the center of its being and forced it out of the wall. It revealed itself to be some sort of demonic creature thin like a candle and angular, with fangs long like daggers.
It screeched, more magic hit it and Alistair and Miach both threw themselves at it. It died quickly but not before calling in another few walking corpses, coming in from the hallway, some from behind fallen tables.
They fought in close quarters, in pairs with the mages, shielding them as their hands changed in color rapidly, grabbing, punching and waving off enemies in flashes of orange, blue and purple. Morrigan was agile, graceful even. She didn't let herself be touched and cast spells with a flick of her fingers. Wynne was handsier than she looked, smacking the undead with the golden flames of her staff. Iola was precise, dry in movement. She followed a constant rhythm of thought and strike; grab and smite.
Leliana was resourceful; when she saw there was no space to shoot she jumped on top of one of the cupboards to get clear shots from there. Miach was creative; if the daggers couldn't be used to slash flesh they would be used to pick bones. Alistair was reliable; his arm was always up, and his shield always where it should be. Sten was thorough; an enemy not defeated was extra work for the comrades, and Sten wouldn't allow for that.
Gudrun was satisfied. By the time they reached the fourth room the knot in her brow had started to loosen up.