Chapter 100: The Guardians of the Holy
The Haven Chantry was old. You did not need to be scholar to see that. Weeds grew up around the structure; moss covered the cracks in the old stone. The structure reminded Alim of other chantries he had seen, but this one seemed different. The lines of the place, the way certain decorations were arranged seemed different somehow, archaic almost.
The elf's ears twitched.
The chantry in its way was like the rest of the sleepy little village, it almost looked like it was trying to hide from the world. Everything they had seen here today suggested that this village and its people wished to remain unnoticed, that they wished to continue wallowing in their solitude.
He shook his head.
How far had they gone to achieve that goal?
He thought back to the false Weylon back in Denerim, a blood mage left to either discourage searchers or to lead them into a trap. Then there were the warriors they had killed outside the circle tower, reavers Leliana had called them. He remembered very well how the last survivor of that group had reacted when captured.
The man had practically stabbed himself on Alim's blade. Such devotion usually suggested that someone had something to hide, or perhaps…
…something to protect.
Leliana had told him about the boy she had encountered, mentioning several things the boy had said, something about going up the mountain with the other men, but what was up the mountain that was so important that it drew the men away from their home? What was up there that was so damn important?
Whatever the answers, he knew that he needed to see it for himself. The villagers seemed unwilling to talk, so perhaps their leaders would be more open.
Either that it or they would try to kill them all, either way, they would know at least some of what they had to face.
The group approached the chantry; even from out here the sounds of voices raised in song could be heard.
Again Alim felt curiosity bubble up inside of him; he had heard the chant of light enough times growing up in the circle to recognize it…
…The sound of the faithful pledging their devotion made Leliana smile.
"They are singing the chant in there," she cooed softly, "Shall we go and see what they know?"
"Yeah," the elf agreed, "But let's not be foolish about this."
He turned to the others.
"Weapons ready," he advised, "if we can find out what happened to Brother Genitivi with no bloodshed that would be preferable, but be prepared to defend yourselves as well."
Morrigan snorted at that.
"You do not actually believe this will end peacefully do you warden?" she asked, "There is something in the air, tis unnatural, you can feel it as well as I. I hope?"
Alim nodded.
Yes, he could sense something amiss, but if they went in weapons drawn and banners flying that would not help them. Corpses could tell no tales after all.
"My order stands," he said, "No killing unless we have to, but watch yourselves as well."
The witch sneered but nodded. She drew her staff, clearly not willing to wait for trouble to start.
As always these last few months Alistair was quickly at her side, ready to defend his lover if attacked, the young witch chose not to acknowledge it.
Again Alim sensed something going on between the two but said nothing.
They needed to stay focused on the job in hand.
The elf led them up to the doors of the chantry, the great brass knockers were green with age, and again it did not seem right given what he had always experienced about such places.
No chantry mother would allow a place to go to the void like this, he thought, perhaps the villagers don't keep this place up on purpose.
If a large group of people came, they might all just vanish into the wilderness. Travelers might just find an abandoned village in the mountains, a chantry unmaintained. Given the hospitality they had received since they arrived he could imagine the people doing just that, but once again, if they did that, where would they go, and why go to all the trouble to try and hide out here in the middle of nowhere?
The elf's ears twitched.
Perhaps this Revered Father would be able to answer their questions…
Either that or they would know they had walked into a dragon's nest.
Either way, they would know.
IOI
The sights and sounds of chantry life surrounded the group as they entered the old structure. The feel of cobblestones beneath her feet, the smell of wax and incense, and the voices of the faithful rose in song and devotion, to someone familiar with the religious vocation, it seemed like business as usual.
Such sights were familiar to Leliana, soothing almost, but Alim's orders gave her pause. The bard had travelled far in her life.
She knew not to trust things completely at face value.
The song of the faithful ended, before them stood a group of about twenty people, they ignored the wardens and their allies, their attention focused entirely on a man dressed in archaic looking vestments and robes.
She recognized at least some of the symbols that he wore, but not all. This, she suspected must be the revered father. If Haven was anything like Lothering, it was here that they would find the answers they sought. In small places like this, the people, even village officials, often sought out religious leaders for guidance.
If anything was going on, this Revered Father would know.
The priest lowered his head, his face downcast, his eyes closed, only when the faithful fell completely silent did he begin to speak:
"WE are blessed beyond measure," the old man intoned in a powerful voice, "The most holy honors us, and trust us to be her guardians."
He raised his head, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
"Raise up your voices my children, and despair not, because we…"
He stopped, his sermon dying on his lips.
He had finally noticed the newcomers emerging from the shadows. The priest looked upon them like something unpleasant that he had stepped in on a hot summer day.
The faithful turned, nervous whispers sprang up from them as they noticed the wardens and their allies.
The revered father glared at them.
"In most places," he said coldly, "It is considered rude when strangers interrupt."
Alim paused, just at the back of the last villagers, not wishing to surround himself by the man's followers. The move pleased Leliana, her lover had firm grasp of tactics.
He knew well not to surround himself by possible enemies.
""My apologies Your Reverence," the elf said offering a slight bow, "We meant no disrespect. I am Alim of the Grey Wardens; we have travelled far, and have questions for you."
The old man's icy demeanor did not improve with their introduction.
"I am Eirik," the man said, "I do not believe you will find the answers you seek.
He looked out over his flock, it was clear that they were…disturbed by the new arrivals.
"That is all for today my children," he said, "Return to your homes, I must…attend to the strangers."
A young woman stepped forward, a small baby in her arm.
"But Your Reverence," she gasped, "we have yet to perform the sacraments of the holy mother, or sung the invocation!"
"Be at ease Nada," he replied, "We have honored guests. Hospitality demands that we…take care of them."
Leliana's brow furrowed.
Something in the priest's voice put her on edge. The bard's fingers drifted to her belt, where both her daggers and several other surprises were available to her.
She was no fool, and knew very well how to read body language and the tone of voices.
Whatever Eirik was planning, it likely would not be pleasant for them.
Slowly the flock dispersed, they glared suspiciously at the outsiders. Clearly they did not like their daily routine being interrupted.
The wardens and their allies kept a close watch on the people, they had no intention of being mobbed by an unruly crowd, Leliana did not think that would happen however…
Not all of the faithful of Haven were leaving the chantry.
She noticed at least three men in guard armor moving through the shadows, they were trying to be subtle, but their old style armor stood out like a pauper in an Orlesian salon.
They are trying to surround us, she thought.
The bard almost rolled her eyes.
So much for this ending peacefully.
Zevran had noticed the guards as well, he seemed relax, but she could see tension in his muscles, like a cat ready to spring. Seri's eyes darted around them, likely coming up with a strategy and picking out targets. Alistair remained close to Morrigan, awaiting Alim's command.
The witch appeared relaxed her amber eyes shown with anticipation.
She likely preferred the coming bloodshed, possibly even welcomed it.
Alim locked eyes with the Revered Father, if and when violence began, it would start with the priest. He had done the wardens a favor by asking the villagers to leave.
Now there would be no women or children to get in the way, when the fighting started.
"You could have finished your ceremony Father," the elf said, he pretended nonchalance, but Leliana knew him better than anyone.
The elf was prepared for combat.
"It is better this way," the old man sighed, "We…are not comfortable around outsiders."
"Of course," Alim continued, "It is about one of my fellow…outsiders that I am here. An old man likely passed this way in the last few months, a Brother Genitivi, a servant of the chantry."
Alim smiled.
"He likely would have come to you for guidance, Your Reverence, have you seen him?"
Eirik snorted.
"We do no appreciate the company of outsiders here," he said ignoring the warden mage's question. "They bring trouble, they bring…others. Others that pollute the sanctity of Haven, and soon…our beloved home is forever changed."
He gave the wardens and their allies a sorrowful look.
"You understand a man's need to defend his home, yes?"
Alim nodded.
That pleased the old priest. He nodded, coming to a decision.
"Brothers and Sisters," he called out, "You know what must be done."
The guards moved as one, swords were unsheathed.
Eirik raised his hands.
Fire exploded from his fingertips.
Alim counted the Father's spell; a wall of ice sprang between the two men.
Outside the chantry thunder rumbled.
The wardens met the Havenites in battle.
Leliana whirled around Alim, using her daggers to keep the guards back; Eirik's use of magic had surprised her.
Not only a man, but a mage as well, such things were against all chantry law.
Was Haven so isolated that it did not care, or perhaps…Haven itself cared nothing for the Maker and his prophet…
Perhaps this was all just a game, a scheme to fool travelers.
The bard pursed her lips, they would know soon enough.
Alistair and Seri waded into the guards, they knew how to use their weapons, but against a man trained in both Templar and warden disciplines, they were hard pressed to keep up. The dwarven commander proofed equally up to the task, and what she could not do, Zevran was there to back her up. The assassin darted in and out of the shadows, slitting throats and stabbing backs.
Morrigan roared; she transformed before their eyes, a massive bear stood where the witch had been. The sight shocked the guardsman attempting to deal with her.
A huge black paw struck him in the head, knocking him across the chantry, he collapsed his neck broken.
Powerful winds blasted out the chantry windows, Alim raised his hands, drawing on their power Eirik attempted more fire, but the warden mage directed the winds back at his opponent. The father staggered back, the sharp winds taking his breath away.
When the elf spoke, it was not simply with his voice, but with the thunder as well.
He glared at Father Eirik.
"WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!?"
The Revered Father laughed,
"We are the guardians. Andraste trusts us to protect her, and serve her will."
The priest slit his hand with a small dagger.
Blood magic began to rise.
A flash of light struck the man, knocking him to the floor.
Alistair was there, his Templar training took over, his smite had weakened the father but not stopped him.
The warden warrior intended to correct that.
The doors of the chantry flung open, archers appeared, more guards summoned by the villagers. They targeted Morrigan, her bear form too large to miss.
Leliana came to her aid.
She lobbed a small glass vial from her belt. It shattered on the floor releasing strong fumes.
The guards coughed and tried to fall back.
The bard waded into them with her daggers.
Morrigan seeing the attackers changed back into her human form. A guard seeing an opportunity tried charging the witch.
She danced around him, tearing off his helmet and pressing her hand to his forehead.
The man gasped as magic flowed into him.
Morrigan sneered.
"Go back to your friends," she hissed.
She booted him back toward the archers.
"LELIANA," the witch shouted, "GET CLEAR!"
The bard did not respond with words, she back flipped away from the choking crowd.
The man Morrigan touched walked into the middle of his fellows.
His body exploded violently.
Leliana gasped at the sight.
Andraste have mercy.
She turned to her dark haired companion.
The witch grinned savagely at her victory. She turned looking for more victims; alas they were in short supply.
The Father was running out of guards.
A wounded archer who had survived the blast staggered towards the back of the chantry. Leliana gave pursuit, not wishing the man to summon more reinforcements. He made it to a walled off arch, his hand questing for a dark stone there.
The bard did not let him reach it, she drove her dagger up under his chin, his eyes flashed with surprise, eyes that quickly darkened as life left them.
Leliana let the man sink dead to the ground.
"Andraste take you," she murmured.
A shriek sounded behind her. She turned to see Alistair standing over Father Eirik, the man's bravado gone Alistair's sword driven deep into his chest.
Leliana nodded grimly.
It seemed that the father would not be giving them any answers today.
The winds inside the chantry subsided. Alim looked to each of them in turn, making sure that they had all made it through yet another battle.
Zevran coughed slightly, left over fumes from the acid, burning his throat. Seri plucked an arrow out of her forearm. Alim hurried up to her, offering the dwarf healing magic.
Alistair went to Morrigan, checking if she was all right.
The witch again rebuffed his attention.
Leliana shook her head.
What was going on between those two now?
It was a matter for another time.
Alim walked up to the dead Revered Father, the elf snorted with frustration.
They would be getting no answers from him.
Leliana glanced down at the man she had slain, the one trying so hard to claw at that stone on the wall. He…he…
The bard paused, paused and smiled.
Perhaps they did not need Eirik after all.
She inspected the arch, and the stone the man had been reaching for. She checked for any sign of booby traps.
The stone, she thought, yes, it looked like a pressure switch.
She leaned in closer, trying to see if it was rigged any more than what she could see.
"Leli?" she heard Alim say.
"Yes, dearest?"
"You find something?"
"Perhaps," she murmured.
The other came up to her. She motioned them back, if this was some kind of trap, and not what she thought it was…
It would be better if they all stood back.
She pressed her hand to the stone.
Here we go, she thought.
She pressed inward.
The wall slid back and to the side.
Leliana smiled to herself. She glanced down at the dead guard.
"Thank you," she purred.
He was beyond hearing.
IOI
Alim strode through the secret door, his ears twitching with curiosity. The room looked like any other library he had ever seen; high book shelves lined the wall. Several chests were stacked in the corner and next to that…
The elf almost gasped.
An old man was there as well, he sat tied into an old chair; his head slumped against his chest.
Alim approached him; he gently touched the man's arm. The prisoner startled, he sat up quickly.
"Whoa there," Alim soothed.
The man looked around panicked.
"You," he gasped, "You…Eirik sent you! You have come to finish it!"
Alim gave the man a sympathetic look.
"Eirik's dead," he said flatly, "He won't be finishing anyone now."
Hearing that gave the old man pause.
He looked at Alim for the first time, truly seeing him.
"Wait…you…you are not from Haven are you?"
"Nope," the elf chuckled, "I came here searching for someone, and I think I just found him."
The old man shook his head, still trying to clear away the cobwebs perhaps.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I'm Alim of the Grey Wardens, and if I'm not mistaken, you're Brother Genitivi I presume?"
Hearing his name seemed to galvanize the old man. He nodded excitedly, tears springing from his eyes.
Not that Alim blamed him.
"It is okay now brother," he soothed.
"You're safe."