No one is home today, and the struggle to focus rather than taking advantage of the quiet to do something fun is real.

Blood Magic

"I'm glad you made it, Inquisitor. I fear they've already started the ritual - and I apologize that we couldn't offer more warning." Stroud had been growing more and more haggard the longer we waited for the Wardens and their Tevinter ally to move - a change which struck me anew every time I was close enough to see him with any clarity. Harding had confided in me that he didn't sleep much. I wondered whether it was the Calling he had spoken of, or worry over the ritual his comrades meant to engage in, or perhaps a combination of the two.

I waved away his apology. "My scouts were the ones keeping watch, and Harding's people are good. If this was the best they could do, it's likely about the best anyone could do."

"I'll stay here as rearguard," Hawke said. "There are Venatori patrols everywhere."

"I know, we killed two," I replied. "Cole, Vivienne, and Bull with Hawke - the rest of you with me and Stroud."

"Vanish - " Varric protested quietly.

"I know," I told him, "but if there's as much blood magic and demon binding as I expect, I don't want Cole there, and we need someone for support."

"Right, good point," Varric allowed, as Cole whispered a soft "thank you."

"I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, Varric," Hawke told him, more amused than impatient or offended. "Stop hovering and go put Bianca to good use."

"She does like shooting blood mages," he allowed.

We crossed a stone bridge spanning some sort of canyon - perhaps an offshoot of the Abyssal Rift, though I couldn't see well enough to tell. "Well, that's ominous," Varric muttered as the tower came in view, and I agreed - not because I could see it as anything more than a shadow against the sky, but because I could feel the aura of old blood magic that radiated from it.

Beside me, a shiver ran through Solas. "The things that have been done here," he muttered, low enough that only I was likely to hear. "And for what? To briefly stall the certain march of a contagion that will only reach a new crescendo in a few centuries? A sad waste."

I looked up at him curiously, but he only shook his head when he noticed, and I could tell he regretted having spoken at all.

Beyond the bridge was a staircase - probably long judging by the undifferentiated blur it quickly faded into. We heard a cry as we mounted: "This is wrong!"

It was followed by a callous - almost sarcastic - voice quoting the Warden's motto: "Remember, now: In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death…" There was a cry and a surge of magic that tasted distinctly of copper and smelled slightly of carrion. "Sacrifice," the voice finished with an audible sneer.

"The accent," I said.

"Tevinter," Dorian agreed grimly.

We climbed faster.

I felt it when the blood magic was used to summon and bind a demon, and simultaneously realized other demons were also present; the aura of the tower had masked their presence somewhat. The bindings also, I noted as we approached the top of the stairs, connected the Wardens and their demons to some other person. "Etunash," I swore softly. "How did they not see this?" I looked up at Solas. "Do you see it? What the binding is doing to them?"

"What is the binding doing to them?" Dorian asked as Solas's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"The Wardens are bound just as surely as the demons they have summoned," Solas said slowly. "Fenedhis lasa - those fools."

Dorian made a small sound of surprise, but had time for no more as we had reached the top of the tower.

"Inquisitor," the same contemptuous voice that had recited the Warden's oath greeted me. A mage, of course - I wasn't certain anyone without magic would be capable of holding the bindings as he did. "What an unexpected pleasure," he continued with affected delight. "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."

"Be careful," Dorian told me with equally-affected lazy amusement, "social-climbing magisters from the minor provinces are an absolute plague. Always as ready to assassinate you as clasp your hand."

"No worse than turn-coat disgraces from once-prominent families, willing to slit the throats of their own nations," Lord Livius Erimond retorted, losing his smooth facade as the venom in his voice rose to the surface.

"I'm wounded," Dorian gasped. "Did you hear that, my dear Inquisitor? He insulted my family."

"Did he?" Varric asked. "I hear you say much worse than that about them on a daily basis, so it's hard to tell."

"Well, he tried to insult my family," Dorian corrected himself.

"All right, enough trading verbal jabs," I told them. "We do need to either rescue or slay these Wardens."

"How sweet, you actually think you can stop me," Erimond spat. "Shall we see what the Wardens think? Wardens - "

"I can see you've bound them through the demons they summoned," I interrupted him, trying not to roll my eyes. I had thought Dorian especially dramatic, but it seemed drama was simply a favored sport in Tevinter, at least among mages.

"Corypheus has taken their minds," Stroud said - not so much to me, I thought, as voicing the connection he had just made.

"They did this to themselves," Erimond insisted. "The Calling had them terrified, you see. They looked everywhere for help."

"Even Tevinter," Stroud growled.

"Yes," the magister gloated. "And since it was my master who put the Calling in their little heads, we in the Venatori were prepared." This time I let him speak without interrupting, pleased he was so willing to spill all the details of the plot. We had, after all, only guessed that Corypheus had caused the Calling - and here Erimond was confirming everything. "I went to Clarel full of sympathy, and together we came up with a plan: raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads, and kill the Old Gods before they wake."

"Minen felasilen," Solas whispered, shaking his head. "Minen mesilde felasilen."

I glanced at him briefly, but spoke to Erimond. "Ah, good - that accounts for the demon army, then." If we were able to stop this, Corypheus would likely be without the bulk of the forces I had seen in Redcliffe.

"You...knew about it, did you?" The magister seemed genuinely taken aback by my lack of surprise. "Well then...here you are. Sadly for the Wardens," he pressed on, eager to share more useful details, "the binding ritual I taught their mages has a side effect. They're now my master's slaves. This was a test. Once the rest of the Wardens complete the ritual, the army will conquer Thedas."

"Did Corypheus force them to do this?" I wondered.

He barked a laugh. "Force them? No. Everything you see here? The blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were very afraid." His voice was full of contemptuous humor. "You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision. Burdens of command, I suppose."

"Is it possible for you to release the Wardens from the binding?" I asked.

"Who knows or cares?" he replied dismissively. "I tire of you, and the Elder One showed me how to deal with you, in the event you were foolish enough to interfere again." He raised his hand, calling forth a magic that stank of the Blight, and attempted to wrest control of the Anchor away from me. It sparked and hissed angrily, bringing me to my knees with with pain - but Corypheus was still a fumbling dilettante, attempting to bludgeon his way with force through that which required the utmost finesse. Solas had manipulated the Anchor the first time I had tried to close the Breach with far greater competence than Corypheus had ever shown. And yet the darkspawn magister still fancied himself some sort of expert.

I slowly mastered the pain, ignoring Erimond's gloating about bringing Corypheus my head, and discharged the Anchor at him as I had not done since confronting Widris. I couldn't see the precise result, but Dorian and Varric both winced audibly, and I heard the clank of armor falling on stone. There was a scrambling sound - metal scraping over stone. "Kill them!" the magister ordered, his aura retreating at a limping pace that reassured me I had done him some damage, though likely not so much that we would be able to catch up to him after the fight.

There were four demons and four bound Wardens to delay us. I couldn't use my Fade-shift trick on demons - it was like trying to grasp water. I could see them, though, and I could snatch my companions from danger when necessary, all except... "Varric, stay close," I ordered. "I want to be able to keep an eye on you."

"Sure, Vanish." His tone told me that he thought I was worrying over nothing, and I did see his point - demons weren't a dragon. Even so...just the thought of trying to tell Hawke that something had happened to her beloved friend made me cringe. I was here to protect them - all of them - and I was going to do it.

The fight didn't go especially well for us, at least not at first. The demons and Wardens coordinated effortlessly, as though one mind guided all of them - which I supposed might have been the case. My own trick was all that kept us from taking serious losses, but we were on the defensive the entire time. Then, thankfully, Hawke came running, bringing with her Vivienne, Bull, and Cole, alerted by the sounds of battle.

After their arrival, we made fairly short work of our enemies. Bull engaged the demons while Cassandra put her training against mages to good use. Shifting Cole was like running with a tailwind, and I suspected he was, in part, pushing himself wherever I sought to place him. I positioned him anywhere he was likely to get in an unlooked-for strike. Soon the demons had been banished, and the mages lay on the ground beside the Wardens they had killed for the blood used to enslave them.

"Well, that went well," Hawke commented with her usual sarcasm, stopping near enough that I could see her face reasonably well if I squinted. Stroud joined us a moment later.

"Better than it might seem," I sighed. "The magister was surprisingly chatty. I know a lot more with much more certainty than I did this morning."

"You were correct," Stroud admitted quietly. "Through their ritual, the mages are becoming slaves to Corypheus."

"And what of the warriors?" Hawke asked, before shaking her head. "Oh, of course. It's not real blood magic until someone gets sacrificed."

"I understand that they were afraid, but - there are other Wardens," I said slowly. "There are treaties that allow the Wardens to conscript anywhere - even among the Dalish! They don't know what happens if the Old Gods all die. Do the remaining darkspawn just...disappear? That seems unlikely. None of this was necessary! Who looks at blood sacrifices and demon summoning and believes it their best option?"

"Only those too frightened or foolish to think with any clarity at all," she replied.

"The Wardens were wrong, Hawke," Stroud acknowledged, and then looked at me. "Clarel feared that if the Calling affected all the Wardens in Orlais, it would spread outward, in time, to all Wardens. It is true we don't know whether the Blights will end once the last of the Old Gods is slain, but we do know what happens if no one is able to slay them." He returned his attention to Hawke. "Misguided though they were, the Wardens had their reasons."

"All blood mages do," Hawke retorted in a snarl, and it struck me how personal this was for her. "Everyone has a story they tell themselves to justify bad decisions...and it never matters. In the end, you are always alone with your actions."

I felt, unexpectedly, a shiver of - something - from Solas as Hawke spoke. It was large and complex, and he tried to keep it from me, but some it slipped through anyway. Shock. Guilt. Grudging admiration.

I was distracted enough that Stroud startled me when he briefly touched my elbow to bring my thoughts back to our current challenge. "I believe I know where the Wardens are, Your Worship. It is the only place large enough to house all the Wardens in Orlais for any period of time, and defensible, as well. We will likely find that Erimond fled in that direction. There is an abandoned Warden fortress a few days' ride from here. Adamant."

"What, they didn't want to summon their demon army out in public?" Varric asked.

For once Hawke didn't respond to Varric's quip. "Stroud and I can scout out the fortress and confirm that the Wardens are there."

"Not without some of Harding's scouts," I told her. "You'll need more than just the two of you - at least two others, and maybe Harding herself, if she's willing to go. We could use this tower as a staging-ground for our assault, I suppose, but Harding mentioned another old Warden keep - Griffon Wing. If some of the Venatori leave with Erimond, we may be able to take it."

"A sound plan," Stroud agreed.

"Well, let's head back to camp and find out whom Harding wants to send with you," I told them, stifling a tired sigh. It was a good thing our army was already marching. It appeared we would need it.

Etunash: Shit

Minen felasilen. Minen mesilde felasilen: Those fools. Those pitiable fools.