Beta-read by brightspot149. Thank you!
chapter-specific warning: brief graphic violence (desecration of a corpse for blood magic)
Ciri braced for the deafening crash as a boulder smashed into Adamant's outer wall mere yards from where she stood. At her side, Solas renewed their barrier just in time. Blackwall cursed and held his shield above his head as the Wardens above flung chunks of masonry down on them. To the front, the foot soldiers swung the battering ram against the gates with rhythmic thuds while to her left and right, ladders went up for their people to scale.
Thud. Thud. Thud. CRASH.
The soldiers abandoned the battering ram and rushed into the lower bailey with a roar. Ciri followed close behind, her heart pounding.
Demons and dull-eyed Warden mages awaited them within. She raised Gynvael and lashed out at the nearest rage demon. It roared in anger as its wound hissed and steamed. She ducked its claws, half-somersaulting back, then sprang forward to thrust her blade deep into its formless chest. It groaned and collapsed into a puddle of muck, and she turned to find another opponent.
A shade screeched as Stroud ran it through. Olgierd sent a Warden mage shrieking to his death, flames engulfing him. The last of the Wardens fell.
Owain strode around the wreckage of the gate, his greatsword strapped to his back and his eyes steely beneath his helmet.
"We have people on the walls clearing the way for you," he said. "We'll try to keep the greater host of demons occupied while you press in to find Erimond and Clarel. Hawke went up the ladders with Seeker Cassandra's team. They should be easy enough to find."
Ciri nodded. "I'll look for her. Stay safe."
"You, too."
They both looked up at a scream and saw a shade toss an Inquisition soldier from the battlements. It stared down at them with black eyes, then disappeared back behind the wall.
Damn it.
"Better hurry," he told her, his voice grim. "We'll do our part about the resistance up there, but if you can help –"
"Of course."
She watched him go for a moment, then gathered herself. "Stroud," she called out. "We're following your lead here."
Stroud pointed to an archway leading to sand-covered stairs. "This way, Inquisitor."
"The mages might be a lost cause, but we can try to get the warriors to stand down, can't we?" Blackwall asked as they proceeded through the archway.
"We can certainly try, Hero," Varric said.
Beyond the stairs, Wardens armed with bows and swords prowled back and forth across the shifting sand, ignoring the corpses sprawled across the ground. A cry rang out as they caught sight of Ciri and her companions.
"Hold!" Stroud called to them. "We're only here to stop whatever Clarel is planning. Can't you see this is madness?"
An arrow struck his shield in answer.
"You traitor, Stroud!" the archer who loosed the arrow shouted. "We're saving Thedas here! You're the mad one!"
Grimly, Stroud drew his sword, and the fight was on again. Ciri parried an arrow and cut down an approaching warrior, darting across the sand to strike at the kneeling archer. Olgierd and Stroud took on the Warden armed with a tower shield, Stroud fighting with an elegant economy of motion and Olgierd alternating between fire magic and brutal strikes with his saber.
Finally, the Warden fell, and Blackwall shook his head.
"Damn shame."
"Some of them might see reason," Ciri said. "We'll keep trying."
They pressed on, up a short flight of stairs to a stone walkway. Above them, the night sky was clear and cool. Flashes of orange lit the night, each one sending a booming crash through the air, and a tremble through the stone beneath Ciri's feet.
Two shades emerged from the flagstones before the door ahead, swooping forward silently. Varric cursed and shot a bolt from Bianca, and one of them screeched in indignation and anger as it lodged in its sinewy gray chest.
Solas raised his staff, and lightning arced down with a blinding flash. Ciri blinked away the spots in her vision to see black scorch marks marring the stone and no sign of either shade. She raised an eyebrow at Solas, who nodded to her calmly.
On they went.
Past the door, Ciri saw Wardens in a standoff down in a courtyard below, a small cluster of warriors holding off mages and demons at sword point.
"Stay back!" one of the warriors demanded, his voice sharp with desperation. "We will not be sacrificed for some insane ritual!"
Ciri rushed down the stairs, her companions quick on her heels. The dull-eyed Warden mages broke off from harassing their comrades, casting icy glyphs and sending their demons forth.
Solas swung his staff wide, and magic settled on the ground below, dispelling the glyphs. Ciri dodged an arcane bolt, so close it hummed as it passed her, and lunged forward to thrust at the caster. Nearby, a mage went up in flames. Stroud and Blackwall charged across the courtyard to aid the harried warriors.
Ciri spun out of the way of another arcane bolt and lashed out at the mage's arm, biting deep with her blade. He dropped his staff, face blank, and summoned a fistful of lightning to his empty hand. She gritted her teeth and slashed across his unarmored chest. He fell silently, his dull eyes clearing to confusion and terror before dimming forever.
"Just keep your distance!" the warrior yelled as the last demon dissolved into ichor.
"Warden Chernoff, we are not enemies," Stroud said sternly.
Chernoff's knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. "Why should I trust you, Stroud? You're a traitor to the Wardens! Clarel called for your death!"
"Clarel has lost her way," Stroud argued.
"You expect me to turn on my fellow Wardens?" Chernoff asked incredulously. "Like you did?"
"We aren't here to kill Wardens," Ciri cut in. "We only want to stop whatever it is that Erimond has convinced Warden-Commander Clarel to do. You have my word as Inquisitor. Just fall back, and no one will harm you."
Warden Chernoff nodded slowly, still looking wary. "Alright. My men and I will stay back. We want no part of this."
They left the Wardens behind, venturing deeper into the venerable old fortress.
"Thank you, Inquisitor," Blackwall said.
"Yes, that was well said," Stroud agreed. "I had hoped that some of them would come to their senses."
Stroud pushed open a heavy metal door, and they went through cautiously, hands on their weapons. Two shades milled about by a hastily constructed wooden staircase leading to the battlements, and at their approach, they shrieked and rushed forward, claws extended.
Olgierd caught the faster demon's claws on his blade, parrying and breaking away. He struck at it heavily, fire in his off-hand, setting it alight even as it screeched in pain from its wound. Just beyond Ciri's shoulder, Solas sent an emerald green spell smashing into the other shade, pummeling it into oblivion.
Ciri indicated the wooden stairs. "Let's go help our soldiers."
Up the stairs they went, the sound of battle growing louder. A boulder wreathed in flames collided with the walkway ahead, scattering Wardens with a tremendous crash. More Wardens spotted their approach and raced to attack.
They pushed forward, fighting through the warriors to the crush of demons around the ladder. A rage demon froze in place, ice holding it captive, and it shattered beneath the blow of a greataxe. Another shade fell, an arrow through its head.
"Good to see you," Raúl greeted Ciri, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. "They're targeting the ladders, pushing them off. We've kept them busy, but they're persistent bastards."
"We managed to get a few of them to stand down a few minutes ago," Ciri said. She glanced around at the chaos ruling the battlements. "You might not want to chance trying, though."
"Between my spells and the flat side of the Iron Bull's axe, we can always attempt to render them senseless rather than dead," Vivienne said.
"Keep movin'!" Sera urged her. "We've got this one."
Ciri nodded. "Where's Hawke?"
The Iron Bull pointed down the battlement to a small watchtower. "I saw her ladder go up over there, on the other side of that."
"Thanks. Be careful."
"Don't worry about us," Raúl said. "You just stay in one piece."
They left their group behind, moving swiftly down the rubble and blood-strewn walkway. Two Wardens lingered at the entrance to the watchtower and straightened in alarm at their approach.
"Hold!" Stroud called.
"Up your arse, traitor!" the archer shot back, loosing an arrow.
Varric returned the favor, and the archer toppled over, a bolt in his eye. The warrior shouted in rage and leaped at them, sword drawn, only to be met by Solas and Olgierd's spells.
Stroud frowned down at the charred, smoking corpse as they passed it. "Poor fools."
"Some of them listened," Ciri said.
"Four," he said bitterly. "Out of hundreds."
They made their way up the steps into the intact watchtower and pushed open the heavy door on the other side. Mayhem met their eyes. Warden mages cast spells from behind makeshift barricades while a despair demon swooped around the battlements, shrieking and blowing a chill wind across its enemies. On the other end of the walkway, a pride demon stomped about, roaring and scattering sparks of lightning.
"It's about time!" Hawke called to them. "You were going to miss the fun!"
Solas tossed a barrier over them as they waded into the fray. Ciri found herself shoulder to shoulder with Rona, harrying one of the mages. They dodged spellfire, attacking and retreating, Ciri slashing and Rona bludgeoning. At last, the mage faltered, and Rona drew her dagger across his throat.
The despair demon fell to Olgierd, the last two mages to Dorian and Hawke. In the distance, Cassandra, Stroud, and Blackwall surrounded the pride demon, battering it with sword and shield.
Ciri and Rona exchanged a glance and wordlessly went to help.
The five of them surrounded it, striking out and ducking back as it lashed out with claws and lightning. Its armored hide was tough as steel, and it stood taller and broader than a Qunari. Between them, however, they wore it down, and its heavy swipes slowed. Ciri drove Gynvael deep in between the thinnest of its armored plates, her muscles straining from the effort.
It roared and fell to one knee, shedding lightning from its claws. Rona smashed it between its several beady black eyes with her mace.
"Die already, damn it."
It dissolved into a puddle of green ichor and muck, freeing Ciri's blade.
"Good timing," Hawke said as she strolled up. She looked no worse for wear. "Resistance was heavy here."
Ciri cast her eyes over her friends. Dorian's arm bore a long, red scrape, and Cassandra's tabard was singed, but they otherwise seemed fine. She looked beyond, down the battlements to the fighting farther away.
"Keep the demons off the soldiers," she said to Hawke. "We'll meet down below."
"I'll keep the bastards off them," Hawke agreed. "Get going, Inquisitor."
Ciri led the way up the damaged walkway to the next knot of fighting, skirting chunks of rubble and puddles of bright green ichor. Her heart dropped at the sight of a limp arm trapped beneath a broken piece of the battlements. From the uniform, she could tell it was a Warden.
There will be rites and funerals later. The living need your help, not the dead.
At the end of the walkway, four beleaguered Inquisition soldiers struggled to hold their own against a pride demon and a trio of shades. Ciri jumped to assist, her companions quick to follow suit. She cut down one of the shades, whirling to strike at another, while Varric shot at the third from a distance.
The fight against the pride demon was again one of attrition, but it fell in the end, and Ciri gave the soldiers the same worried look over she'd given Cassandra, Dorian, Cole, and Rona.
"Are you well?"
"We'll be fine, Your Worship. Thank you."
She nodded. There was nothing left to do to help. All she could do was find Warden-Commander Clarel and Erimond.
They headed back down the walkway in the direction they'd come from. The stone trembled beneath their feet with each jarring crash of the boulders flung from the trebuchets at the walls. Her boot stepped in something suspiciously soft and slick. She didn't look down.
"This way," Stroud said, pointing to a staircase leading down into a small courtyard.
They headed down, skirting a fallen chunk of crenellation as they went. The door at the far end of the little courtyard looked promising, and Ciri pushed it open with some effort.
It led to a ruined, sand-strewn hall open to the elements above. Iron bars barred their way along one side. The only way to go was forward.
The ceiling above shook and juddered at another pounding hit from the trebuchets as they entered a hall below the battlements. The outer wall had fallen ages ago, and the Wardens had done cursory repairs with lumber. No one stood in their way as they kept moving forward toward the faint sounds of battle ahead.
Ciri pushed open the door at the end of the hall to see a rage demon fall, cut in half by a brutal blow from Owain's greatsword. At his back, Hawke sent a shade soaring into the night sky.
"I kept as many of your men safe as I could," Hawke said in greeting.
Owain nodded. "We've taken some losses, but Serah Hawke is a force to be reckoned with."
That was good to hear.
"Where are Clarel and Erimond?" Ciri asked.
"They're holed up just beyond that little courtyard there, with several dozen Wardens," Owain told her. "We've been holding this position for your arrival."
"No time to lose, then," Ciri said.
She led the way through the small, sandy courtyard, nodding to the waiting soldiers on either side of the door. "We're not looking for a fight," she said. "We want to see if we can get Clarel to stand down."
"Erimond will be a problem," Hawke warned her.
"Then we'll deal with him. But we'll try talking first."
She pushed open the door and walked through, into a wide-open space filled with Grey Wardens. At the center, a large rift stretched and shifted lazily, not quite active, its emerald light casting an eerie glow over the faces of the people assembled. Few were watching the rift. Ciri turned her gaze to see what had captured their attention only for her heart to drop.
A young elven woman fell in a crumpled heap on the landing above, her face a mask of fright, and her throat slashed open wide. A ribbon of blood flew through the air to the rift in a rush. Above the elven woman's corpse, an older, pale human woman stood, clad in Warden regalia with a staff on her back. Her gray hair was shaved close to her skull, and she held a bloody dagger in her hand.
At her side, a mage with greasy black hair and pallid cheeks looked on approvingly. He spotted their approach and narrowed his eyes.
"Stop them!" he called out, laying his hand on his staff. "We must complete the ritual!"
Ciri strode forward. "Have you seen your mages, Warden-Commander?" she shouted. "If you do this ritual, you'll be lost, too!"
"Lost?" Erimond scoffed. "Lost in certainty! The certainty that they're sacrificing for the greater good! Who wouldn't want that?" He sneered and tightened his grip around his staff as he caught sight of Hawke. "Yes, the ritual calls for blood sacrifice. Hate me if you must, but do not hate the Wardens for doing their duty!"
"I don't hate blood magic, you smarmy little asshole!" Hawke yelled. "I'm friends with a blood mage! The difference is that she'd never slit someone's throat or kiss a darkspawn's ass for power! Or didn't you tell them you answer to Corypheus?"
Warden-Commander Clarel's eyes widened. "Corypheus?" she echoed, so softly Ciri could barely hear her. "That can't be possible."
Erimond leaned over and muttered in her ear, and Warden-Commander Clarel's hesitance disappeared.
"Bring it through!" she called down to the Warden mages below.
A cold, triumphant light lit Erimond's pale eyes as the Warden mages lifted their staves. The rift slowly cracked awake. Within it, something enormous shifted, blinking huge, milky white eyes.
"You idiots!" Hawke snapped. "You couldn't make it just a little bit harder for the Venatori? You've practically gift-wrapped yourselves!"
"I trained half of you myself!" Stroud shouted. "Do not make me kill you to stop this madness!"
Within the rift, something let out a chilling screech. The Wardens slowly advanced, weapons drawn.
"Inquisitor!" Blackwall said urgently from behind Ciri.
"Wardens!" Ciri called out. "At every turn, we've asked your brothers and sisters to stand down. Those who listened, we've spared. We didn't come here to destroy your order, simply to stop a vile ritual that benefits a darkspawn magister and his cultist followers. The Inquisition has seen what this magic does to your mages. And I know you have, too."
A familiar Warden pushed forward. "She's right," Warden Chernoff said. "The mages – they've gone wrong. They don't talk, they don't laugh. They just look through you. They're like puppets on a string."
"Don't let them sow doubt in your mind, Warden Chernoff," Warden-Commander Clarel called down to him.
"Doubt is exactly what is called for right now," Ciri snapped back. "Think, Warden-Commander! If even the smallest portion of you recognizes my words as true, then stop this!"
"I honor your bravery, my brothers and sisters," Stroud added. "But this is not the way. You have been tricked."
The Wardens turned to look back up at the landing for the Warden-Commander's decision. She turned to Erimond, who hissed something at her, quiet and vehement. Slowly, then more firmly, Warden-Commander Clarel shook her head, replying just as softly.
Erimond snarled and spat back.
"You've always been a thorn in my master's side, Inquisitor!" he said, raising his voice. He slammed the butt of his staff rhythmically against the stone floor. "You just can't resist, can you? Well! Perhaps my master's pet will put a stop to your interference!"
A loud, bestial screech broke the night sky as Erimond reached out with his hand. The elven woman's corpse gave a jerk, and a globe of blood the size of a fist tore free with a wet squelch. Hawke swore and threw a barrier over their group, and Solas followed suit.
Reddish-black magic slammed into them in a wave, bowling them over with bruising force. Bones aching, ears ringing, Ciri got to her feet to see the rift crack to life and demons pour out of it. Warden warriors fought Warden mages. Inquisition soldiers fought demons. The corrupted dragon from Haven swooped overhead, screeching and spitting its strange red fire. And in the distance, she spotted Erimond's white robe disappear around a corner, with Warden-Commander Clarel in pursuit.
"Go!" Owain urged her. "I'll do what I can here!"
Ciri nodded and took off at a dead sprint, Hawke and Olgierd right on her heels. Solas, Stroud, and Blackwall weren't far behind, and Varric brought up the rear. Past the chaos and up the stairs they went, only to be waylaid by a pair of shades as they rounded the corner.
Hawke jabbed out with her staff, and Olgierd flung a handful of fire. Ciri followed through with a heavy slash. And on they ran.
"Fuck!" Blackwall shouted as the dragon flew past, blowing fire into their path.
Ciri sped up once the dragon flew off again. The scent of the fire was acrid and strange – not unlike the smell of the Red Templars' blood. She could almost feel the heat from the flagstones through her boots as she ran.
Up the stairs, dodging demons and fire, and down another long corridor, always too far behind Erimond and the Warden-Commander to help or hinder. Finally, finally, they rounded another corner to see Warden-Commander Clarel angrily stalking towards Erimond along an old stone arch, batting away his spells contemptuously. Ciri couldn't hear the words they exchanged and drew closer, her companions close behind.
Erimond said something that enraged Warden-Commander Clarel, and she lashed out with her staff, sending him flying a dozen yards back. She stalked over and replied to whatever he said to her with conviction.
Ciri flinched back as, out of nowhere, the dragon swooped down and landed heavily on the old arch to grab the Warden-Commander in its jaws. It flew to a nearby rooftop and shook her heavily, flinging her broken body at Ciri's feet. Growling, almost chittering, it clambered back down to the stones to paw at Warden-Commander Clarel.
Olgierd and Hawke drew Ciri behind them as they all collectively took several steps back.
Warden-Commander Clarel dragged herself painfully across the stones as the dragon advanced. Ciri couldn't hear what she was saying, but she saw her lips moving, and it seemed like she was repeating a saying of some sort. As the dragon hovered over her, its jaws agape, she rolled over and thrust a fistful of lightning at its chest.
It shrieked in pain, flailing wildly. The old stone arch broke beneath its throes, and it fell into darkness, taking Warden-Commander Clarel with it.
The mortar under Ciri's feet gave an ominous crack, then crumbled. Stones gave way.
"Run!"
They pelted back toward the safety of the fortress, hearts pounding, throats tight with fear. The ground fell apart as they stepped on it.
Ciri glanced back to see Olgierd hauling Varric up and felt momentary relief. Then relief turned to panic as Stroud slipped over the edge. She darted back to catch his wrist and drag him back to safety.
"We're not going to make it!" Hawke shouted as the arch began crumbling ahead of them.
"Ciri, go!" Olgierd snapped.
Ciri was not going anywhere. She clenched her marked hand. A skeleton key. She'd thought she'd never need to use it that way. "Hold on tight, everyone!"
And as they all fell to certain death, the emerald green light of a rift enveloped them.
I'm posting on Saturdays now! Hope the change works for everyone.
