Author's Note: Did you miss me?
Act XV: Frostback Mountain Foothills
The path up to Haven was grueling and lonesome, the approaching mountains stark and foreboding. They met few people as they trekked up the craggy foothills of the Frostback Mountains, and Zevran was unusually terse, refusing to speak much since the night they had spent stargazing. She had no idea what was bothering him, but she knew better than to press the issue. So, they continued forward in silence, with only the increasingly bitter wind for company. She was relieved, therefore, when they encountered a fidgety merchant with a broken cart who looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. She needed some conversation.
"Greetings," she called as they got close. She noticed Zevran eyeing up the merchant with his experienced eye, but he offered no comments and refused to make eye contact with her.
"Greetings," the merchant chittered. He seemed to be a fairly successful merchant, given that his clothes were of good make and his cart stocked with wares. "Er…you'll have to forgive me if I seem a bit nervous. Not many people traveling in this part of Ferelden. Of course, that's part of my problem, isn't it? Mule got spooked by a wisp and ran off into the woods. Now what do I do?"
Revan was almost relieved at the potential for a distraction. "Are you asking us to find your mule?"
"Oh! No, no, I sent the elf to do that. I wouldn't dream of asking a stranger to do it…" the merchant shook his head. Revan's face fell. She had been hoping for something to maybe get Zevran's mind off of…whatever it was that troubled him.
"Allow me to introduce myself," the merchant continued, straightening up a bit. "Felix de Grosbois, merchant and entrepreneur, at your service."
"I am Revan. Pleased to meet you," she responded politely, figuring that there was no need to state that she was Dragonheart.
"I normally don't take this route, but with the war I was hoping for a bit of luck and good weather in the mountains," Felix babbled. More out of nervousness than to make conversation. "Sadly, I've had neither. This trip has been one miserable disaster after another. I don't suppose you'd…consider helping a fellow out?"
"Help a fellow out…how?"
The man ran a hand through his thinning hair, sighing. "Of all the things that went wrong, the worst is this artifact I bought in Jader. It's a 'control rod', I'm told. For a golem. No point in me keeping it, however, as I'll never get to use it…but maybe you could?"
Revan arched an eyebrow. A control rod for a golem. She had seen the ancient golems in the Deep Roads those many years ago, and even defunct and inactive they were impressive to see. If she had one under her control, it would be a huge advantage to them in the Blight. Skeptical by nature, she asked, "How do I know this control rod will work?"
"The fellow I bought it from is a longstanding contact," the merchant explained. "He didn't want to come to Ferelden, however, with all our…troubles. He said he got it from the man who owned this golem. But to be honest, I have no idea if it will work. Hence the low, low price. Heh heh. What do you say?"
"What's the catch?"
"The catch?" he responded nervously, again running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I…suppose there is a catch, isn't there? The catch is that the golem didn't come with the rod. It's supposed to be down in a village down south, waiting to be activated. Even if I could get down there, which I can't, I understand the place has been overrun with darkspawn. That's not such an issue for adventurous types like yourself, surely. Or I'm hoping so, at least."
Revan pursed her lips, considering. The village apparently was in the opposite direction they needed to go. But, a golem would be advantageous. Surely Sten, Wynne, and Leliana could get along without them for a few days more.
"So, how much do you want for it?"
"Nothing," the merchant waved his hands definitively. "I just don't want to have to lug around something that might be taken for a gemstone by some bandit. To be honest, I don't even know if it'll be useful to you. I paid too much to simply throw it away."
It seemed suspicious, but Revan responded, "Yes, I think I could use it."
"Just as well." Felix went back to his cart and pulled out a metal object. It was very obviously dwarven make, with intricate designs down its shaft and a crystal at its tip. He handed it to her.
"As I mentioned before, you'll find the golem down south, in a town called Honnleath. I'll mark it here on your map. Just hold up the rod and say, 'dulef gar'. That will wake the golem up, so I'm told. I hope it works."
"And if it doesn't?" Revan twisted the rod in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship.
Felix shrugged. "Maybe you could look up the fellow who owned the golem before? If he's still about, that is. Best of luck to you, then! Now, I guess it's up to me to find that mule myself…"
And with that, he walked off, muttering to himself about useless elves, leaving the two of them there with the control rod. To be honest, Revan was impressed with the dwarves. Droids were intricate machines, and their technology was far beyond what she would have expected the dwarves to have mastered. Perhaps they had used some magic to assist them. Nevertheless, her experiences with HK-47 and T3-M4 were positive ones, and she knew the benefits of having something nonorganic at her side. Recalculating their route, she turned back the way they had come and began heading south, toward Honnleath. Strangely, Zevran still remained quiet, neither commenting on their new course of action nor on her recent "purchase". This was going to be a very long journey.
Honnleath had once been a quiet village, peacefully nestled in the southern foothills and far removed from any major form of civilization. But, upon approach, the back of Revan's neck prickled and her senses screamed at her that there was something very wrong with the quaint town. Darkspawn. They had been warned, but the devastation was complete. She had not realized how bad things had become down south. The village seemed to drip with corruption, and she anticipated that all the villagers had either fled or were dead. Even the sulking Zevran seemed to take note, and the imminent danger made him more present than she had seen him in days.
They saw their first darkspawn – a sentry, Revan guessed – as they approached the village entrance. The genlock growled at their approach as it crouched on a nearby roof and issued a shrill screech of warning to its compatriots. Revan aimed a magic bolt at the offending darkspawn, careful not to set the thatch on fire. The darkspawn fell backwards and toppled off the roof, but not before the patrol it had alerted barreled around the corner. She drew her lightsabers, sure that there would be no survivors to tell of them, and ignited them. The familiar heat tickled her hands. Beside her, she sensed Zevran also drawing his blades, adopting a fighting stance. She glanced at him and exchanged a quick look: he knew what to do.
Subtly drawing the Force, Revan made herself the primary target, imbuing herself with a threatening aura that drew the darkspawns' attentions. Those that led the charge directed themselves towards her, while those with crude bows took aim at her. Arrows were child's play to a Jedi armed with a pair of lightsabers, especially compared to the blaster bolts she had trained with. They were so slow that they never even got near their mark, even as she danced around the grunts that rushed her with their swords and axes and clubs.
Zevran was in perfect sync with her: as she drew their attention, he sneaked around the group unnoticed and slew the archers from behind. Meanwhile, her blades whipped and twirled faster than any sword, slicing cleanly through the corrupted flesh of the darkspawn, sometimes even before they could raise their own weapons against her. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over, the ground now littered with corpses. Revan deactivated her blades and tucked an unruly piece of hair behind her ear. She had not even broken a sweat. From the looks of it, neither had Zevran, who actually looked slightly disappointed at the abrupt end to the fight. She gave him a quick smile, but he instead stared at the bodies she had slayed and muttered to himself, "I need to get one of those swords."
She laughed. "Perhaps I can show you how to wield one when we make camp."
He looked at her, slightly embarrassed about his comment being heard. Or was it because of something else? "Wait…really?"
Revan shrugged, "Anyone with skill can use them, but a Jedi can move faster and anticipate more. The main differences between a lightsaber and a sword are the weight and the fact that a lightsaber will cut through almost anything."
The elf looked intrigued but pressed no further. She had been so close to drawing him out from his isolation… But alas, they had work to do. She took the lead, following the path into the village proper. The houses were spaced close together, but allowed a large area around the central path, perhaps for fairs or social gatherings. Everything was covered with the Blight. Part of Revan wanted to just burn the village down, but the other part told her that one day, the villagers might want to return. She suppressed her carnal urge just in time to greet a new party of darkspawn as they emerged from the houses. Again, she and Zevran repeated their routine as she drew their attention and he cut them down, and together they made short work of the darkspawn. Then, they continued up a small hill to the other end of the village.
The golem stood at the crest of the hill in the center of the town, arms raised to the heavens as if welcoming the light's embrace. Or perhaps as if about to bring the might of its arms down on an unsuspecting villager. Nevertheless, it was an impressive sight. Contrary to the golems she had seen in the Deep Roads, this one seemed to have crystals imbedded in its shoulders and forearms. It also seemed a touch shorter. But, before she could get a closer look, more darkspawn emerged from the nearby buildings. She sighed; examination would have to wait.
Igniting her blades, she began attacking, repeating the pattern of the other attacks, until one of the hurlocks issued a challenging shout at her. She smiled at the challenge. Dodging under the swing of a hurlock grunt, she ran to the alpha and slid under the slice of his battleaxe. Behind him, she plunged a lightsaber into his back, but this only served to enrage him. He spun to attack her, but she was more nimble than he and managed to roll out of the way. She cut at his legs, slicing cleanly through them. As he fell in shock, she took off his head. She turned to take on the rest of the group, but Zevran had beaten her to it. He gave her a toothy grin as he wiped his blades clean, but quickly caught himself and turned away. She scowled and wiped the drip of sweat off her brow, but she knew there was nothing then that she could do that would not aggravate the situation. He was much like her in that regard. He would talk to her in his own time. She hoped.
She sent out her senses, trying to detect more darkspawn, but their presence had now recessed some; they were still present, but Zevran and herself were in no imminent danger. She approached the golem. It had been fenced off, but only as a friendly warning to be careful. Evidence abounded that this was a popular area to congregate, most notably the empty basket that contained the remnants of bird seed. The golem, meanwhile, required closer examination. It was speckled with bird droppings, and its magical energies were low, as if it were on standby mode. It showed no signs of being aware of her presence. The crystals, meanwhile, were a curiosity. They were similar to kyber crystals, but like the one Flemeth possessed were laced with lyrium. These, though, were not as fine in quality, and some were even cracked. She guessed that they were used to direct energies, but she would need to test that theory when the golem was activated.
Revan retrieved the control rod and, hold it aloft, commanded, "Dulef gar."
They waited a moment, but nothing seemed to happen.
"Perhaps it is dead?" Zevran ventured.
"Unlikely," Revan pursed her lips, examining the golem closer. No, it was most certainly not dead. "More likely we were given the wrong code."
"So…what now?"
Revan looked around, having just wondered the same question. "Now…we see if perhaps the villagers left behind any clues as to what it might have been."
There was not much to the village. There was what appeared to be a town shop with a carved sign swinging above its broken door. One home had a myriad of tiny, rotting pumpkins strewn about the porch. To the right of the statue was a tower, decorated with old statues and the door to the basement hanging just slightly askew, as if it had been slammed shut. Revan guessed that this was their best bet at answers, so she beckoned Zevran and pushed the door open. The door opened to a set of stairs leading downward to what appeared to be a cellar.
Zevran touched something on the wall that she had missed and smelled it. "Blood," he informed her. "Not exactly a good sign."
She shrugged; someone had come down here when the village had been overrun. Perhaps they would find the person. Perhaps that person was alive. For now, she summoned a small ball of fire to light their way and descended into the dank cellar.
It smelled musty and old. That was the overwhelming feeling she got from the cellar. It was also far more vast than a simple villager would have cared to excavate. The first room was as expected, a storage area with a cart and crates of roots and other preserved goods. There were bolts of cloth and barrels of alcohol and some books lying scattered on a table. She resisted the urge to stack them neatly and read them. They continued on, coming to the next room: a library. Revan had only a moment to be surprised before being descended upon by a group of darkspawn that were investigating the cellar as well. Conscientious of the books, she drew her swords instead of her lightsabers and, trying to give Zevran space in the cramped quarters, rushed into the middle of the darkspawn party. The swords felt surprisingly heavy compared to the lightsabers, but she managed to get enough momentum as she swung that they were almost as fast. As she slashed at their fronts, Zevran stabbed at their backs, and soon a ring of bodies lay on the floor in a pool of dark blood.
The room was indeed a library, though it appeared to not have been used much in the last few years from the thin film of dust on most of the books. A large pile sat in the middle, as if the darkspawn had ransacked the books looking for something. She ran a finger down a spine of a tome in one of the shelves. Archons of the Imperium: Volume 1. So the owner of this tower was most likely a scholar, if not a mage. It would certainly explain the golem and its strange augmentation.
Down the next flight of stairs was a distillery, heavily perfumed with the smell of fermenting yeast and a bloody body impaled with a spear near the stairs. Zevran took a deep breath and remarked that it reminded him of home. She retorted that any pungent scent seemed to remind him of home, to which he merely shrugged. The next flight led to a winery, complete with large metal casks of wine and mead waiting to be tapped and more bloody bodies strewn about in the straw on the floor. She tried to ignore the stench of rotting flesh. But, her sense of the darkspawn became heightened again, and as they rounded the corner they encountered an interesting sight.
Darkspawn were gathered, seemingly infuriated, around a magical barrier that flashed every time they uselessly beat against it. Behind the barrier were a group of human survivors, all cowering in fear except for one who seemed to be keeping the barrier up. The rest of the room looked to be a mage's workshop of sorts, with an overlooking balcony. The darkspawn noticed her presence when she noticed them, and they began charging the narrow stairs. Revan responded by blasting them with a wave of fire, sending them screaming backwards. She and Zevran quickly began making short work of them, as Revan again garnered their attention and Zevran dispatched the archers on the balcony. Once the darkspawn had been cleared, they approached the barrier, sheathing their swords as a gesture of good faith. The villagers seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.
One villager exclaimed, "By the Maker! We're saved!"
The one that held the barrier up was more skeptical of their good fortune. He examined her carefully, noticing her strange leathers and unusual swords strapped to her back. "You…weren't sent by the bann, were you? To save us?"
"No," Revan answered honestly. "I am a Grey Warden."
"A Grey Warden? Here? Thank the Maker for our good luck!" he relaxed. "But if you weren't sent by someone, why are you here? If you don't mind me asking."
She hesitated. "A merchant told me about this place, actually."
"A merchant? Why would a merchant – oh, I think I see," the man's face soured. "This is about Shale, isn't it? I should have known. That damnable golem brought us nothing by trouble. My mother sold the rod years ago, after it killed my father, and good riddance."
With a wave of his hands and a small muttering, the barrier changed color, and he gestured for the villagers to escape. Eagerly, they ran for the surface, leaving Revan, Zevran, and the man. Revan pushed through the barrier, the magic tingling her skin as she passed. Zevran followed more apprehensively, but was still close on her heels.
Once inside the barrier, Revan pressed, "So you're saying the golem is defective…?"
"How should I know? It must be," the man shook his head. "My father was its master and it still killed him. Surely that's not normal behavior.
"My father's name was Wilhelm, mage to the arls of Redcliffe and a hero in the war against Orlais. And what did he get? One day my mother found him outside the tower, with so many broken bones she could barely recognize him, and Shale standing over him just like it is now. My father deserved better than that. But if you really want to wake Shale up…well, it's yours now."
Wilhelm…she recalled such a mage from Duncan's memories. From what she remembered, he was not exactly a kind man. She also vaguely recalled having seen the golem.
She brought herself back to the matter at hand. "Except the rod doesn't work. Nothing happens."
Wilhelm's son stopped at thought. "My mother might have passed along the wrong command phrase when she sold the rod. She said she never wanted to see Shale active again. Look, I'll tell you the command phrase…but I need your help first!" She and Zevran exchanged knowing looks as his voice grew desperate. "I know you already saved my life, and I'm grateful, but my daughter is inside the laboratory! She was afraid, and ran too far in before I could stop her. I don't know how she made it past my father's defenses. One of the men tried to go after her. He was killed. But…you could find her, couldn't you?"
"Well, what killed this man who went after her?" Revan folded her arms, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"There are defenses my father put down here to keep strangers out," the man answered honestly. "I knew about the barrier, I had the key for that, but the rest of it? We never came down here. Ever."
"Then how do you even know she's still alive?"
"I…don't, it's true." The man hung his head pitifully. "I'm terrified that something's happened to her, and she's lying in there injured! I can't leave here until I know for certain. Surely you understand that?"
Revan softened. She certainly did. "I'll…see if I can find her. No promises, though."
"You will? Thank the Maker!" Hope returned to the man's eyes, a dangerous emotion. "My father's laboratory is just past the next area, I think. She has to be there!"
She put a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder, then set her eye on the door to the next area. Her Warden blood let her know that the darkspawn were gone, but there was something foreboding about the door down to the laboratory. She pulled out her lightsabers in preparation. The door opened to a curved downward ramp. As soon as Zevran closed the door behind them, she ignited her blades for light. The entire tunnel was covered in cobwebs from years of disuse, except where it seems the man sent down here had bludgeoned through them. She held out her lightsabers to burn them away. At the end of the decline was a room that looked partly collapsed, with dirt covering the floor and a variety of plants growing in the darkness. Revan moved past the miniature ecosystem and on to the next room. A body, presumably the man that had been sent down, lay in the middle of what appeared to be the mage's study. But something was wrong. She gestured to Zevran to be alert, and slowly moved toward the body. Only a few steps into the room, and hidden runes summoned shades to the room. Revan cursed in Qunlat; it was always demons.
Zevran seemed to share her sentiments. "You go left, I'll go right," he informed her, striking out for the nearest shade.
She did not argue with him, instead lunging forward toward the shade. Shades were trickier than darkspawn. She avoided its raking claws and with a backwards swing managed to slice through its head, dissolving it in a spray of dark fog. She ducked under the swing of one that had gotten behind her and parried the blow of one in front. Making sure to keep moving, she switched to the Juyo form of fighting that she had helped develop as a Jedi, becoming an unpredictable blur of motion as she made split second decisions about strikes and defenses. Her side was quickly cleared, even as she avoided the magical attacks of her opponents. She then moved to the ash wraith that had been summoned, drawing it away from Zevran as he deftly swept through his remaining shades. The ash wraith tried to blind her with a whirlwind of sand and dust, but it did not realize that she was half blind as it was. She saw its moves regardless, and managed to avoid its clumsy attack as she ignored the small stings of the sand grains. She sliced upwards with her blades, cleaving the ash wraith in three as it fell to her. Then, the room cleared; they had defeated at least one of the traps. She wondered how many were left.
The door at the back of the study opened into a cavern leading down to the laboratory. Again, more shades rose to challenge them, but they were quickly dispatched by the assassin's daggers and her lightsabers. She opened the door to the laboratory and was greeted by another unusual scene. There was a magical barrier where the door was. Further, there was the child, a girl of perhaps seven years, playing serenely with a cat like nothing had happened. But her second sight quickly revealed that the cat was not what it appeared to be. Revan gathered herself and stepped through the barrier.
"Oh, look! Someone's come to play!" the child exclaimed excitedly, momentarily distracted from the cat.
"I am here to take you back to your father," Revan calmly approached the two, "not to play."
"Well, you should go if you're not going to play. Kitty finds you distracting."
"We have to go, child. Your father is waiting," Revan insisted, eager to get her away from the demon.
"I can't go! Kitty says she can't come and I'm not leaving her. She'd be lonely." The child pouted, gently stroking the cat.
The cat's eyes glowed with a magical light. "I would not suggest leaving in such hostile company anyhow, Amalia. Look how they act."
Zevran looked uncomfortable. "That's not really a cat, is it?"
"Of course she's a cat!" Amalia said defensively. "She just talks, that's all."
The cat groomed itself. "Talking is simple enough, once you know how."
"So what are you really?" he asked.
"I am a cat. Really," it said definitively. "Nothing you say will convince Amalia to go with you. She loves only me now. I am her friend, while you are just a stranger."
"You know we can't leave without the girl," Revan interjected.
"Then it seems we are at an impasse, so let me propose a…compromise of sorts. Release me, mortal, and let me have the girl. Let us return to her father and leave this place forever."
Revan considered. If she refused, the demon would try to kill Amalia. She would have to play along…for now. "You mean possess her?"
"That's such a crude way of putting it," the cat purred. "I do not wish to harm Amalia. I merely want to see your world through her eyes. Is that so wrong?"
"I would consider it so," Revan admitted.
"But Kitty wants it!" the child protested. She was obviously heavily under the demon's control. She would have to tread carefully.
"Then you reject my proposal?" the cat asked with a veiled threat.
Revan sighed. "No, I'll free you," she relented, formulating a plan in her head. Zevran did not look particularly pleased, but with a glance he understood she was lying. His face returned to an expression of careful impassivity.
"Thank you. You are very gracious," the demon stretched. "The mage's wards hold me within this chamber, and only a mortal may approach them."
"Oh, this is so exciting! Kitty is going to be freed!" Amalia clapped her hands gleefully.
Revan made a small gesture to the assassin for him to trust her, then began examining the room. There was an intricate puzzle in the middle of the room, one that upon examination would eliminate the barrier once solved. Wilhelm had been clever, if not a bit egotistical. To bind a demon in a room with nothing more holding it than a puzzle…he apparently put a lot of faith in no one attempting to make it through his traps. Or perhaps very little in anyone's ability to be competent. She took a few minutes to look at the puzzle, much to the demon's irritation. She formulated the solution, then began shifting tiles to solve the puzzle. As she moved the last tile, the glyph holding the barrier in place was burned away, and the magic holding the barrier vanished.
"Yes…I can feel the magic fading," the cat seemed to gather its power upon its release. "Oh…I had forgotten how it feels not to be caged!"
The child became scared at her pet's new tone. "Kitty? What's happening?"
"A wonderful thing, my dear, for both of us," the demon shifted its attention to the girl, preparing to possess her.
Revan cleared her throat, distracting the demon as Zevran moved toward the girl. "I said I'd free you. I didn't say I'd let you live."
The cat's haunches rose. "Betrayal! You will not take the girl! She is mine!"
"Kitty, you're scaring me! I won't let you inside me! I won't!" the girl cowered.
"Zevran, protect Amalia!" Revan ordered as the cat transformed into a desire demon.
The demon, enraged, debated whether to go after her prize or her betrayer. She decided for the latter, directing her energies toward Revan. Revan managed to raise a magical shield to block the initial torrent, but quickly dropped it as it sapped her energy too quickly for her liking. She tried getting under the demon's guard, but the demon could draw on the Fade and repelled her. Zevran, meanwhile, was holding back several of the demon's thralls, keeping the girl safely behind him. Revan made sure to keep herself on the opposite side to draw the demon's attention away while she feinted and dodged her magical attacks.
When Zevran had a bit of a breather, she lunged in, relying on her foreign fighting style to throw the demon off. It worked; the onslaught of her lightsabers made the demon recoil and hiss from the burns, driving her straight into Zevran's blades. He laughed as the demon screeched in indignation, so Revan finished her off with a quick sweep of her blades. The body slumped as Zevran withdrew his daggers and dissolved slowly into ash. The girl, Amalia, hid near the wall, afraid of the magic from the fight, but she slowly approached the ashes, almost sad. Zevran laid a hand on her shoulder and, following Revan, led her back up to where her father was waiting.
The relief on his face was palpable as Amalia saw him and ran into his arms. Hugging his daughter, he said through tears of joy, "You did it! You freed her! Thank you so much!"
"I'm sorry I ran away, Daddy! I was so scared!" Amalia buried her head in his chest.
"It's all right, butterfly," he consoled her. "You're safe, now. All the bad creatures are gone."
Looking up at the two of them, he met eyes with Revan. "The phrase to activate Shale is 'dulen harn', if you still want that bloody thing. I wouldn't, if I were you. Now we should go, and quickly. Thank you again. We owe you our lives."
The father and daughter departed, leaving them behind the shimmering barrier. She looked over at Zevran, who was wiping his daggers clean, an odd expression on his face.
"Should we go get ourselves a golem?" she quipped, hoping to draw him out.
He shrugged. "After you, General."
She rolled her eyes but led the way back to the village center, to the statuesque golem. Again, she brought out the control rod from her pack, but this time she issued the phrase Wilhelm's son had given her. A second passed, but then there was a slight rumbling that seemed to originate from the golem. The crystals and magical runes on the golem began to glow brighter. The sound of rock grating on rock increased, and as the dust began falling off the golem it managed to move its neck, loosen one of its arms, then the other. It struck what was an intimidating posture, now fully awake and functional. Then, with eyes imbued with magical energy, it regarded the two of them.
Sighing, it began, "I knew the day would come when someone would find the control rod. And of course it is another mage. That is what it is, yes? Yes. Just my luck."
Revan smiled; she liked the golem already. "And hello to you, too."
It moved what seemed to be a rocky eyebrow in an expression of bemusement. "I stood here in this spot and watched the wretched little villagers scurry around me for, oh, I have no idea how long. Many, many years," it expounded. "I was just beginning to get used to the quiet, too. Tell me, are all the villagers dead?"
"Not all of them, no," Revan crossed her arms and took a relaxed stance. They had nothing to fear from the golem.
"Some got away then? How unfortunate."
"You didn't care for them, I take it?" Revan asked in curiosity.
"Familiarity breeds contempt, as they say, and after thirty years as a captive audience, I was as familiar with these villagers as one could possibly be. Not that I wished their fate on them, no, but it did make for a delightful change of pace."
Revan guffawed. "Do you have a name then?"
"Perhaps," the golem answered coyly. "I may have forgotten after all the years of being called 'golem'. 'Golem, fetch me that chair.' 'Do be a good golem and squash that insipid bandit.' And let's not forget, 'Golem, pick me up. I tire of walking.'" Revan snorted at that. "It…does have the control rod, doesn't it?" the golem pondered, looking her over. "I am awake, so it…must…"
"It certainly does, right in its hand," Revan jested as she waved the control rod in front of the golem, using the pronoun it preferred to give her.
The golem stared at it. "I see the control rod, yet I feel… Go on. Order me to do something."
She looked around before locking eyes with Zevran. He blanched as she grinned wickedly at him. "All right. Give Zevran a hug."
"Hey! I don't appreciate foreign objects invading my personal space. Well…usually," he responded indignantly.
"And…nothing? I feel nothing," the golem remarked incredulously. "I feel no compulsion to carry out its command. I suppose this means the rod is…broken?"
Revan's spirits fell a bit. Here she was, hoping to gain a golem of myth to these people. But apparently, much like a droid having gone too long without a memory wipe or proper programming, it had developed something akin to free will. But, she put on a brave face. Mythal knew she had been neglectful in wiping HK's memory on more than a few occasions.
"Shouldn't you be happy about that?" she asked gloomily.
"Hmm…" the golem considered. "I suppose if I can't be commanded, this means…I have free will, yes? It is simply…what should I do? I have no memories, beyond watching this village for so long. I have no purpose…I find myself at a bit of a loss." Unexpectedly, it turned back to Revan. "What about it? It must have awoken me for some reason, no? What did it intend to do with me?"
"Honestly?" Revan steeled herself. "I started the Blight and I intend to finish it. I awoke you to help me fight it."
"Well that's a very blunt way of putting it," Zevran muttered.
"Truly? Well that is quite the tale," the golem pondered.
"Now that you have free will, however," Revan pushed past the awkward pause, "the question is, what do you want to do?"
The golem hesitated. "I watched this village for so long, unable to move or act. My memories of anything before are…vague at best. So I have no idea what to do. I am glad to be mobile, is that not enough?"
"That is up to you my giant friend," Revan smiled. "But are you going to keep calling me 'it'?"
"Yes. Very likely," the golem retorted.
She sighed. "You know, the surviving villagers said you killed your former master…"
"Did I?" the golem tried to remember. "I remember I had a former master. The mage with the furry brows who poked and prodded and barked orders. Did I kill him? I hope I did kill him. Perhaps the last order he barked was, 'Golem! Stop crushing my head!' Ha!"
"Can't say I mind a little bloodthirstiness," Revan admitted.
"If it defecates, urinates, or rudely barks orders, I have no issues with crushing its skull. Just in case it was wondering."
"Thank you for the warning," she responded sarcastically. "So how do I know I can trust you?"
"I have no idea," the golem was brutally honest. "How does it trust anything else without a control rod?"
Revan reflected on that. "Good point."
"They haven't killed it, yet. I consider this a good sign," the golem shrugged.
"Well, in that case, you are welcome to come with us, or exercise your free will and do as you please," Revan graciously offered.
The golem considered the offer. "I will follow it about then…for now. I am called Shale, by the way."
"I am Revan, also known as Dragonheart. Pleased to meet you."
"The Dragonheart? This should be interesting," Shale said dryly.
"Heard of me?" she raised an eyebrow.
Shale chortled. "Oh the villagers whispered about it. It is very scandalous according to them. A mage and a human masquerading as a Dalish! How could it do something so abhorrent?"
She smiled. "That's mild compared to the other things I've done. But, I digress. We need to meet with our companions. Shall we?"
"Your left foot is too far back, you are not giving yourself enough reach to strike," Revan instructed Zevran, holding completely still as he adjusted his form.
She had promised to show him how to wield a lightsaber, and so when the party made camp for the night she had tossed one of her blades to him, giving him little choice in the matter. He had been hesitant, but warmed to the idea of a challenge, especially when she demonstrated the first few velocities of Shii-Cho, the first form of lightsaber combat. It was a smooth, basic form that she had mastered early that was deceptive in its simplicity. A master could wield it like no other, but yet it was easy enough that all apprentices were required to learn it.
Zevran, while a quick learner, was easily frustrated, and far too accustomed to wielding the heavier, steel weapons that the people of Thedas used. He was not used to having the reach of a proper sword with the weight of a small dagger. But, Revan had always been a patient teacher. One had to be if they taught Alec…or Malak, as he had become. And their instructors never took the time with him that he had needed. That was part of the reason Revan had become so good at the forms: she had learned them and then taught them diligently, demanding perfection from herself and the students that sought her after hours to become better.
Despite his usual propensity to weasel out of situations that were more demanding than anticipated, Zevran stubbornly pressed on, even though he had begun sweating from holding the poses for so long. Deceptively easy. But perfection required the body to remember the correct form, and holding the form perfectly helped with this. When she was satisfied with his stance, she showed him the next attack and parry of the velocity, the routine that apprentices practiced to master the form. She often practiced the sets of the various forms when the rest of the party was asleep, along with some of the more heavy-handed forms that she had learned from the Mandalorians that the Jedi had looked at with scorn.
He tried the new position, to which Revan then made minute corrections until it was perfect. Then, she had him hold it while she examined for flaws before again moving on. Once through the set, she had him repeat it, reminding him by calling the name of the pose and striking the velocity's opposite pose. Shale watched with apparent interest from a rock to the side.
"Why does the painted elf struggle so? The form looks easy enough," Shale remarked. Revan stifled a giggle at the term "painted elf", referring to Zevran's tattoos.
"You're welcome to come here and try it," Zevran challenged through gritted teeth as he shifted into the next pose to counter Revan's attack. She paused, reaching up to adjust his grip, then resumed her stance. By the end of the set, Zevran asked for a pause as he removed his shirt and grabbed some water. Revan mopped her own brow; the form, when held for a long time, was an exercise, but the cool mountain air helped.
"Is the painted elf not a skilled fighter as it is?" Shale asked her as Zevran took his breather.
"Oh no, he is, but I offered to show him some of what I have learned. It is very different from how he learned how to fight," she explained, tampering again with her crystal's alignment. "I am sure that if Zevran were to teach me the way he fights, I too would struggle."
Revan paused, examining the crystal, then looked to Shale. "Say, those crystals you have…"
"I prefer to think of them as accessories," the golem insisted.
"They are wonderfully pretty," Revan admitted, "but do you know what they do?"
"I suspect that it is an art that was practiced when golems were more…commonplace. My former master collected whatever lore he could find on the subject. He searched far and wide to collect what crystals he could, and then…added them. It is not an unpleasant sensation. As I understand it, the crystals allow me to…alter the flow of magic around me. Wilhelm had hoped to turn me into a battery of mana, something he could tap at will."
"What a curious idea," she responded almost absently, thinking about the repercussions.
"I'm so glad it thinks so," Shale retorted. "Some of the crystals increase the presence of mana, some absorb or reflect spells…there are various kinds. All I can promise is that, should it ever find one of these crystals, I can likely tell it the function and what it would do if…added to me."
"Really? Would you be willing to have more added?"
"Why not?" Shale responded nonchalantly. "I don't get to wear clothing and other adornments like the rest of you creatures, after all."
Revan removed the kyber crystal from her lightsaber. "So what would this one do to you, if added?"
Shale stood and approached, examining the crystal curiously. "In all honesty, I have never seen a crystal like this one. I can feel its energy…I think it may enhance my own energy far more than anything Wilhelm ever found. Where did it get this?"
"My second Jedi trials, on a planet called Dantooine" she took the crystal back and replaced it inside its chassis, using the Force to realign it as she had been taught. "I had to find the crystal that called to me. It powers my weapons. But it's also…sort of a part of me."
She ignited the weapon, testing its stability. The blade glowed brightly. "After this instruction, would you permit me to examine your crystals? I noticed many of them were fractured."
The golem regarded her closely. "If I kill it, I take no responsibility."
"Deal," Revan smiled mischievously as Zevran returned, having forsaken his shirt from the exertion. Tattoos covered most of his body, but they were almost as elegant as her vallaslin, and she wondered if they had similar meaning. He had even bound up his hair in preparation.
"Again," he ignited his blade.
She smiled toothily at him, and proceeded to move through the velocities at a slightly faster pace, pushing him until he made a mistake, which she would pause to correct. Shale continued to watch, engrossed, until it was obvious that Zevran had suffered enough for the time being. He tossed her back her lightsaber and left to bathe some of the sweat off, leaving Revan to prepare dinner and then to tinker with Shale.
As their dinner stewed, she climbed on a rock to look down onto Shale's crystal-covered back and managed to pry one out to examine. Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed – it was a lower-quality kyber crystal, influenced by this world's particular relationship with the Fade and lyrium. With Shale's permission, she removed them all and began sorting them based on damage and quality. Those that were damaged or fractured, she would need to spend more time salvaging, but the others could be replaced. The mage, Wilhelm, had obviously had no idea what he was doing when he had started adding crystals, as he had added them seemingly at random and without any regard as to their properties or orientation or effects. No wonder he had died. He had most likely tried adding a corrupted or heavily damaged crystal which had tampered with Shale's basic operating parameters and, magical conduits blown out by the energies of the offending crystal, the golem had most likely crushed him in a pure fit of malfunctioning circuitry before the conduits had tried to reset themselves and put Shale on "low power mode". Damned idiot.
Carefully, she took one crystal at a time, starting with the most powerful, and positioned them on Shale where they would amplify the golem's abilities most. It took most of her concentration, as she had to determine how the golem's energies flowed and had to match its resonance with that of the crystals. She almost let dinner burn, but she was at least somewhat aware of her surroundings. She worked her way down to the lowest quality but intact crystals, again cautiously placing them with great consideration. She was dimly aware that Zevran had returned and was watching with curiosity, but the task before her required her full attention. It was a fortunate thing that aligning crystals had been another of her specialties, though she had never thought it was that great of a talent. The most she had ever gotten from it was a kind word from the Jedi Masters on how quickly she had assembled her lightsaber – and how accurately! If only they knew. But, eventually, she completed her task.
"How do you feel?" Revan asked the giant stone golem as she gathered the broken crystals that would need repair.
Shale flexed and stretched. "I feel…I feel better than I have in years! Or ever! Where did it learn to do that?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just a…talent I have."
"Surely it must be considered a great mage if it knew how to do this," the golem insisted.
Revan barked a laugh. "Great? Perhaps. But not for this. Mainly for killing a lot of people."
The golem seemed to smile slyly at her. "Perhaps it is not as soft and squishy as I first thought it was."
"You know, I had a friend once who thought the same as you. But he called me a 'meatbag'."
"Hmm…'meatbag'…yes, I think I like this word," Shale's magic eyes gleamed wickedly. "I think I shall begin using it. Thank you, meatbag."
"You're welcome, golem."
Revan did not manage to sleep much in the days spent traveling between Honnleath and Haven. Between sparring sessions with Zevran and using the Force to carefully heal Shale's crystals and the miles of walking uphill into the mountains, she was weary. Often times she caught herself with an irritated remark on her tongue. But she remembered her promise to herself to not give in to her anger and kept herself in check. Zevran remained taciturn as they traveled but displayed an increasing drive to do well in the drills she put him through. She began talking with Shale instead as a way to keep herself awake as they trudged into the cold Frostback Mountains. It truly was remarkable how similar the giant golem was to the unassuming HK-47, except Shale seemed to possess something…else, besides just programming. Was it because of the crystals?
It was mid-morning when they saw the smoke from a village. As they rounded the thousandth switchback of their journey, they spied a small camp carefully out of sight of the village proper. A large Qunari sat tending the flames.
Revan smiled and approached the fire. "Hello Sten."
The Qunari looked up at her, then quickly got to his feet. "It is good to see you again, kadan. I see you have picked up another…companion."
"Sten, this is Shale, a golem forged by the dwarves. This is the cause of our delay," Revan introduced the golem, who seemed to immediately size up the giant and deem him acceptable even as he sized the golem up and reached the same conclusion. "Where are the others?"
"The Sister is checking our traps and the elder bas saarebas is gathering herbs," he responded. "They shall return shortly."
They sat down around the campfire. "What can you tell me about the village? Have you located the Urn of Sacred Ashes?"
Sten stared at her intently. "The village harbors some dark secrets. They do not appreciate outsiders and have tried to turn us away when we approach. On the second day the Sister snuck into a house and discovered a bloody alter, possibly used for sacrifices. We have not been allowed near their Chantry, where their Father is giving sermons."
"Father?" she asked, confused.
"They said that it is the way things have always been in Haven," he answered bluntly. "Both the bard and the bas saarebas find it strange and unnatural.
"But tell me: do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the Archdemon from the rear?"
"Are you asking me why we are here?" Revan's face grew dark.
"Indeed, I am," Sten challenged her.
"You know that this is necessary. We have discussed this."
"Is it necessary? I see I was mistaken, then. It seemed to me that we were climbing a mountain in the middle of nowhere on some frivolous whim of yours," Sten responded irately.
Revan struggled to keep her anger checked, formulating a calm response to the Qunari's attacks. "We must cure the Arl of Redcliffe."
"How will this help him?"
"It is said the Ashes can heal him," she reminded him. "For he is beyond my and Wynne's ability to heal him."
"I have no doubt in your faith," the Qunari commented. "I am beginning to doubt your sanity, however. The Archdemon is our goal. And we are heading away from it. To find the charred remains of a dead woman. You haven't thought this through."
Her fists were shaking. "Sten, I believe it is you who have not thought this through. What would happen if the Grey Wardens arrived at Qunandar with an army of non-Qunari soldiers with the claim that they were there for your protection? Would the Qun believe them? Or would your people retaliate? Now, say a member of the Qun traveled with them and supported their claims, saying that they were there only to help. That would give them credibility. It is the same here. We need the Arl because we need credibility, otherwise we shall have to fight a war on two fronts. We cannot defeat the Archdemon if we do not have the people of Ferelden supporting us. As it is, our army is too small to have any chance of stopping the army of the Archdemon, and I fear that even with the Arl's men we will still be sorely outnumbered. We cannot waste our resources on something as frivolous as fighting Loghain on his terms. And the Urn is the only thing we are aware of that has the power to cure the Arl."
Sten took a moment to consider, then dipped his head in acceptance. "I have spoken my mind."
"Your words have been noted," Revan said coolly. "I appreciate your opinion, but I have explained the necessity of this. We have few options that will lead to victory. This plan is the most likely to have a successful outcome. I just need you to trust me. If this does not work, then may the blame fall on me."
"I trust you with my life, kadan. But this is not my life at risk. It is our goal."
"I will not fail, Sten," she softened. "I cannot."
Sten looked about to respond, but his face resumed its cool impassivity as the bushes rustled nearby and Leliana came in to view, carrying a dead rabbit that had been snared in their traps. She looked surprised to see Revan and her little band, and gave them an amicable greeting. Revan still did not trust the girl, but upon her many hours of reflection in the past few days she had decided that her distrust and dislike did not mean being disagreeable towards Leliana. In fact, the girl reminded her considerably of Bastila and the other devoted followers of the Jedi Order. She strongly believed in what she had been taught and denied her own talents and dissenting thoughts. This, however, was no reason to not be cordial or rude. She greeted the bard with as much warmth as she could muster, given her argument with Sten, and introduced Shale. Leliana seemed initially intimidated by the golem, but that was to be expected. Shale was intimidating. Wynne returned soon after with a bundle of herbs and took a long look at their newest companion.
"I see now the reason for your delay," the mage lay the herbs down and began plucking off the leaves as Revan skinned a rabbit.
"Wynne, this is Shale. Shale, Wynne," Revan waved a hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Shale," Wynne bowed her head politely.
Shale grunted in reply, muttering something about yet another mage. They took some time to cook breakfast and eat, filling Shale, Zevran, and Revan in on what they had learned about the village. Revan then spoke about how they had found Shale, though to save Shale face Revan did not mention that the control rod had been free. They packed up camp; today they would discover the true nature of Haven, and hopefully, they would find the Urn of Sacred Ashes.
They trod up the mountain path as a party. The three that had been observing Haven for the past several days had a weary air about them. Revan was merely curious to see how out-of-place this village was. A gruff guard stood at the top of the path before the village proper.
The guard gave them a suspicious glance over, and deciding Revan was the leader as she was at the front, warned, "What are you doing in Haven? There is nothing for you here."
"I happen to have business here," Revan countered.
He grunted. "No, you do not. I would have been informed if someone was expecting…a visitor."
"Perhaps, then, you might know if there is a Brother Genitivi here?" she inquired, hoping that the monk was still alive. She had her suspicions to the contrary.
"Who?" the guard acted confused, but the Jedi could tell he was deceiving them. "Perhaps Revered Father Eirik will know of whom you speak. Unfortunately, he is ministering to the villagers at the moment, and cannot be disturbed. I suggest you seek your brother elsewhere."
"Would you mind if we looked around for him then?" she insisted. "I am quite certain he is here."
"We do not appreciate lowlanders 'looking around' our home as though it were some sort of zoo," the guard snarled in his odd accent.
"Very well. If you will excuse us," Revan tried to be polite.
The guard eyed her coolly. "You may trade for supplies at the shop if you wish. Then I suggest you and your…companions leave."
She bowed her head in acknowledgement, and led the party into the village. Once out of earshot of the guard, Wynne beckoned her.
"As we said earlier, we should tread carefully. There is something amiss here."
"Ah, quiet, insular communities. There's always something nasty going on behind closed doors," Zevran commented, having resumed his favorite game of scandalizing Wynne.
She shot him a flat glare. "You always think there's something nasty going on behind closed doors."
"That's because there often is," he winked at her. "I hope it involves chains. I hope they ask me to join in."
Ignoring his comment, Revan turned to Leliana. "Where was the bloody alter you found?"
The bard gestured to a house behind her, trying to be discrete. "That one had the largest. The others were smaller, but every house had one. I made it to the hill where the Chantry is before I turned back.
"Where is the shop then?"
Leliana gestured up another hill. Revan figured that perhaps they could glean a bit more information before heading to the Chantry.
The village was eerily quiet for midmorning. Usually, there would be women doing chores, men doing work or children at play, but the few children they did see scurried away at their approach. Even the sound of the animals were muted, as if they knew what dark secrets lurked in Haven. It made the hairs on the back of Revan's neck stand on end. Something was most definitely wrong. It felt like Malachor V, or Korriban. She had to resist drawing her lightsabers as they crept deeper into the village. Still, they reached the shop. It was small, but clean. Upon entering, the shopkeeper looked up in surprise and then terror. Unsurprising, given that Revan wore an eyepatch and was covered in scars, Sten was a hulking Qunari, Shale was a massive walking stone covered in glittering crystals, and all but Wynne wore armor.
"Who are you?" the shopkeeper managed to speak. "You're not from Haven…"
Revan picked up a leather canteen from the table it rested on and examined it. "Why does everyone tell me that like I don't already know it?"
As she looked over at the shopkeeper with barely hidden annoyance, she saw him blanch. "We…we don't get many visitors."
"Can you tell me about Haven?" she turned the canteen over and peered at the stitching, while really trying to look around with her second sight. She had an odd feeling about this shop.
"How would you describe the place you know only as home?" The shopkeeper was not a very forthcoming person. The rest of the party mingled about the store, feigning interest in the items.
"Have you seen a man called Brother Genitivi?" she put the canteen down and, sniffing the air, noticed two very distinct smells. She moved towards one, and gestured for Zevran, who had noticed her odd behavior, to move toward the back of the shop where the second was. Luckily, he still understood her perfectly and began silently moving in the indicated direction.
The shopkeeper paled even more. "No…I've never heard that name."
With Zevran distracted, she held up the item of her curiosity. "Can I trade for these?"
The shopkeeper opened his mouth to respond, but noticed a slight shift of the shadows as Zevran moved around the corner. "What are you doing? That's private!" the shopkeeper yelled indignantly.
"What are you hiding?" Zevran asked coyly.
"I don't see how that is any of your concern," the man, suddenly emboldened, said with false confidence.
Suspicions confirmed, Revan strode over to the counter and stared the man down calmly. "I am making it my concern. That's the smell of rotting flesh."
"No!" the shopkeeper drew a dagger. "You have no right!"
He tried stabbing Revan from across the counter, but he was stabbing down and holding the dagger poorly. Revan took a small step back, letting him bury the dagger safely in the wood from his mistimed stab, before reaching out with the Force. She imagined a hand squeezing his throat shut, preventing air for entering his lungs. The man clawed at his windpipe as she used the Force to choke him, but she held firm and soon his body hung limp, asphyxiated. She released her hold on him, letting his body slide to the floor. Then she turned toward the shocked faces of her companions.
"What?" she said defensively. "Less mess this way. Harder to determine the cause of death."
"Still…I fear his shouts may have drawn unneeded attention," Wynne was the first to recover.
Revan nodded her agreement. Swiping the item she had intended to purchase and discreetly putting them in her pack, she followed Zevran into the back room. It looked to be the shopkeeper's bedroom, but by the bed was a rotting and bloody corpse. Zevran stopped several steps away and pinched his nose closed from the overwhelming scent of decay. Revan, unfortunately, was too used to it. She knelt next to the body and scrubbed off the dried blood from the herald on his breastplate and shield. Sure enough, it bore the tower and red hill of Redcliffe. She sighed and commended his soul to the Force. Hopefully, Brother Genitivi had not met the same fate. The others stood near the doorway, as the smell was overpowering to them, too, with the exception of Shale who was just too large to enter the domicile. She told them the truth: the body was a knight of Redcliffe. The denizens of Haven had struck the first blow.
She could sense that more villagers were rushing towards the shop, and quickly. She told the rest of them to grab whatever warm clothing was in the shop, given the climate. Then, drawing her lightsabers, she told the party to be on their guard before opening the door. Sure enough, villagers in shoddy armor were rushing towards the shop and the brazen shouts of their comrade. They mostly wielded large mauls and axes, and their eyes were mad. She leapt away from the door and ignited her blades before taking a defensive stance in front of the party. She barked orders to the others; Sten vaulted Leliana on to the roof of the shop, where she crouched and knocked an arrow. Shale took point alongside her, crouched low and ready to barrel over those that got too close. Sten rushed to her other side. Wynne stayed in the doorway, ready to fall back if needed, staff at the ready. And Zevran…well, she did not need to order him around. He knew what to do. In fact, she could no longer see him, so he had already started to flank the villagers.
As the enraged villagers reached them, Revan did not worry about finesse, only avoiding their heavy blows and striking underneath their guard. Sten, meanwhile, was a powerhouse, issuing challenges and swinging his greatsword Asala faster than they could raise their hammers and blades. Shale, meanwhile, was an impregnable bulwark, and the golem used its incredible mass as a living boulder, crushing heads and slamming bodies. Arrows screamed in from overhead, but those that got too close, Revan was able to bat away with sword or slight exertion of the Force. Quickly though, the onslaught of arrows slackened as Zevran stealthily cut down the archers from behind. Meanwhile, the frenzied folk were continuously felled by the constant stream of arrows loosed by Leliana. Wynne, in the rear, imbued them with extra perception and strength, while lighting some targets on fire or freezing others. The battle did not last long; despite their numbers and bloodlust, the villagers were no match for the battle hardened veterans. But Revan sensed it was not over. Blades still humming, she stepped over the corpses at their feet and turned towards the hill, on top of which was perched the arch and steepled wooden edifice of the Chantry. More villagers stood on the slopes, but these were slightly more prepared for them and were ready for a battle pitched in their favor, given their uphill advantage. Revan turned to Wynne.
"Can you make that slope ice?" she asked, not thrilled about the alternatives.
Wynne looked at her strangely, but raised her staff, muttered a few simple words under breath, and stabbed her staff skyward. The top glowed, and ice began spreading up the slope. Wynne began looking drained, but the ice crept up and the villagers began losing their footing. Revan nodded at Leliana, who began taking aim and shooting the slipping combatants. Then, Revan commanded Shale to shake the ground at the base of the slope. The tremors dislodged the remaining villagers, and Revan, letting her lightsabers hang low to melt the ice in front of her, went to greet them. The path cleared, Revan beckoned the rest of her companions to follow her melted trail, and they continued to the summit.
Revan pushed open the doors of the Chantry. The candles inside sputtered at the sudden gust of wind. In front of her, a wizened and wicked looking man dressed not in Chantry robes, but in those an apostate would wear, was preaching over a large conglomeration of devoted villagers.
The Father looked up from his mutterings. "Ah…welcome. I heard we had a visitor wandering about the village. I trust you've enjoyed your time in Haven so far?"
Revan scowled. "You killed the knights of Redcliffe. We found the bodies."
"This my brothers," the Father, Eirik, spoke to his congregation, "is what happens when you let an outsider into the village. They have no respect for our privacy. She will tell others of us if we let her. Word will spread, and then what?" He turned his attention back to the Jedi. "You, stranger, do not understand our ways. You would bring war to Haven, in your ignorance."
"You have brought war upon yourselves if you murder innocents," Revan hissed. "What about Brother Genitivi? What have to done to him?"
"We don't owe you any explanations for our actions," Eirik defended. "We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven."
With that, he raised his staff and sent a blast of magical energy, designed to knock the intruders off their feet, but Revan was fast enough that she was able to raise a barrier to absorb the energy and let it drop before Eirik had puzzled out what had happened. Meanwhile, the villagers had all gotten to their feet and drawn their weapons, ready to charge their enemies. A bloodlust entered their eyes, eerily similar to the bloodlust of the Iridonians she had met. Shale and Sten rushed ahead of her on either side to rush the villagers. Zevran and Leliana drew daggers and, climbing over the pews, began flanking. Revan and Wynne, meanwhile, spent their energy shielding the rest from Eirik's and his attendants' attacks and using offensive magic of their own. Once she saw an opening to Eirik, however, Revan rushed through the throng and, having surprised the unshielded apostate, sliced him in half with her blades. She vaulted out of the way of the attacks of his attendants, who had now taken precautions to defend against her. The first lost his concentration when Revan Force pushed him into the wall, where she plunged her blades through his chest. The second she was about to approach when two daggers sprouted on either side of his neck, and Zevran's wicked grin gleamed at her from behind him. Sten cut down the last of the villagers, spattering blood over his armor, and Revan took in the carnage.
There was blood everywhere. It made it harder to see any of the strange details of the Chantry, but there was evidence enough. She closed her physical eye and felt with the Force for any remaining lifeforms. There was one, but it was faint. She headed in its direction…and was met with a wall. She put her hands on her hips and considered it. The rest of the party spread out, checking the rest of the building for any remaining traps or evidence or items of curiosity. Revan looked around, trying to find a door or any indication that there was another room on the other side of the wall. She was certain there was, but how to get it…
She felt Zevran appear at her side. "Something interesting about this wall?"
She grimaced. "Only that there is something on the other side."
She looked toward him and he quickly looked away, hoping she had not noticed. He quickly scanned the area, then, giving an excited aha!, reached up and pulled down on a sconce. Immediately, part of the wall shifted away from them and swung open: a hidden door. Inside were rows of tall bookshelves, stacked with books, and on the bloody rug was a man that did not appear to belong there. Revan rushed in at the sight of him. He wore a pendant of Andraste, had a receding hairline, sported a five o'clock shadow of neglected facial hair, and had a bloody and mangled leg that were evidence of torture.
The man looked up at her in fear, but with a little resignation in his eyes. "Who are you? They…they've sent you to finish it?"
"Not yet, brother," Revan chuckled. "I am Dragonheart. I am here to help you."
His eyes lit up. "You don't know how glad I am to see someone who isn't from this village. I –" he spasmed, grasping at his broken leg. Then, sighing he fell back on the floor. "The leg's not doing so well and…and I can't feel my foot."
"Wynne!" Revan called. The elder mage rushed in. She was tired, but still alert. "Can you help?"
Wynne knelt down next to the man and gently examined the leg without yet cutting away his clothes. "I can set the leg and ease some of the pain, but he'll need a lot of rest in order to heal."
"I don't have time to rest now," Brother Genitivi protested. "I'm so close. The Urn is just up that mountain."
Revan's eye flashed in excitement. So close! "I need to find the Ashes. Arl Eamon gets sicker by the day."
"The arl is sick?" the brother propped himself up on his elbows. "Will he live?"
Revan pursed her lips, but gestured for Wynne to begin her administrations. In the meantime she went over to the bookshelves and began ripping away some wood to make a fire with. "The arl was poisoned under Loghain's orders."
"Politics," he spit, looking away as Wynne borrowed Zevran's dagger to cut away his trousers. "Never did anyone any good. The arl is a noble soul. But the Ashes…the Ashes will surely cure him.
"Haven lies in the shadow of the mountain that holds the Urn. There is an old temple there, built to protect it. The door is always locked, but I know what the key is. Eirik wears a medallion that opens the temple door…I've seen what he does with it."
"This medallion?" Leliana appeared in the frame of the false door, holding up a curious metal pendant.
The brother's face lit up excitedly. "Yes, that is your key. Take me to the mountainside, and I will show you."
"Hold on, brother," Revan chided him. "We must tend to your leg first, and I am not allowing you to move until Wynne says it is safe to do so." Having stripped enough wood from the shelves and other furniture, she began looking at the titles on the book spines for suitable kindling. She hated burning books, but there were a few worthy titles. "In the meanwhile, could you answer some questions for me?"
Brother Genitivi hung his head in resignation as Wynne began cleaning the blood, with Zevran's unwilling help, but he agreed. Revan asked him about the knights, the town of Haven, about his assistant, Weylon, distracting him as Wynne summoned Sten to hold the man steady as she set his leg. Eventually, Revan found two books of the same author whose critics had claimed, "truly it is hard to determine, which of his two books is the most true, or rather which of them is the least false; all I know is, that he shall go to the pile for his arrogance and folly." She ripped out their pages and, with a snap of her fingers, lit her makeshift campfire near the ailing brother as they chatted. She asked Shale to clear the bodies out of the Chantry until they could be cremated in between questions, while Leliana searched for items they could use or that she could deliver back to the Chantry in Denerim.
Once Brother Genitivi's leg was set, both Revan and Wynne aided in knitting together some of the torn flesh and broken bone so the brother could at least hobble, but Wynne was insistent that they not move him until the morning. Revan could not argue that point, so they made camp in that room in order for her and Wynne to minister to Brother Genitivi's bandages in the night. The sleepless Shale offered to stand guard in case any pesky cultists came back in the night. In the morning, they would retrieve the Urn of Sacred Ashes.