Dragon Heart

by Roc Lammergeier

What really happened to Revan after she left for the Unknown Regions? Is there a bigger threat than the Emperor lurking on the backwater planet of Thedas? The author's take on things. Rated M for violence and suggestive themes.

18. Act XVIII

Act XVIII: Orzammar

Rose was not pleased. Revan could tell from the scowl and the way Fuzzywuggins whined worriedly at her feet. The young Cousland sat stoically in a stone chair in her chambers as Revan recounted her adventures of the past several days. Alistair sat nearby polishing his armor, enraptured with the tale. He even stopped his absentminded polishing when she recounted how she took out a squad of Carta members using only her hands and the advantage of the dark.

"You could have been killed," Rose remarked sternly.

"I could be killed by many things," Revan reminded her. "The high dragon was a much larger threat than the Carta."

"And you decided to turn the Carta over to a woman you know nothing about," the girl accused her.

Revan frowned. "If I had destroyed the Carta, it would only leave Dust Town and Orzammar in a state of chaos and uncertainty. Many would perish. The Carta provides for many there that cannot provide for themselves, and it fuels Orzammar's economy by supplying it with goods that otherwise cannot be obtained. It is the lifeline of Orzammar. Inevitably, a new Carta would emerge without any real change in Orzammar, and the new organization may have been worse. This way, at least, Bhelen can use his relationship with Natia's sister as influence to control the Carta."

"Yeah, I'm not exactly sure how much I like the idea of Bhelen having control of the Carta," Alistair mused.

The Jedi shrugged. "He is ruthless, but he has his people's best interests at heart. At least, his actions and words so far have indicated this. Far better than the stagnation that Harrowmont proposes."

"I don't like the idea that we are affiliated with criminals," Rose complained.

"Are you forgetting that we travel with an accused murderer, an assassin, a bard, and an apostate? And that we have repeatedly saved maleficarum and murderers?" Revan reminded her.

Rose's eyes narrowed, but she knew the truth of her words. "Fine. Just…next time, could you give us some warning? I don't like being interrupted by a bloodied woman bearing a severed head while in the middle of political negotiations."

Revan chuckled. "I will do my best to scale back my theatrics. And I apologize for not being able to tell you of my plan. It was…very spontaneous."

Rose shook her head in exasperation before bidding Revan good night. They had traveled back from Aeducan Thaig with haste, and everyone, excepting Shale, was exhausted. The golem, meanwhile, was being examined with great enthusiasm by the Shapers and would be indisposed until their departure. The look in Shale's rocky face had bordered on pained as the scholarly dwarves had begun examining it and insisted of Rose that they be allowed to observe it for as long as possible. Rose had agreed without consulting Shale, but the golem had already been swarmed and had no chance to protest before being led away rather forcefully. Revan had only laughed and assured Shale that it was only a few hours, and then the golem would be allowed the honors of crushing the first darkspawn they encountered on their trek, a promise which had made the surly Shale slightly less resistant.

Revan debated meditating, as she was teetering on the edge of fatigue, but there was still much to do to prepare for their journey. She was organizing her thoughts as she exited Rose's chambers when she was greeted by Zevran, leaning against the wall opposite, smirking wickedly as he carved an apple with his dagger.

"Well, that was quite a welcome," he intoned, eating the slice off the dagger's blade.

"Were you expecting something different?" Revan smiled. "A bouquet of flowers and a kiss on the cheek, perhaps?"

"A warm bath and a bottle of wine would have been sufficient," Zevran stretched. "That was quite a journey we made."

Revan laughed. "Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, then. However, I do know a good place for a drink."

"You? Drinking? This I have to see," the assassin mused.

"Too bad you missed it," Revan grabbed his hand and started to lead him out of the Assembly. "But there is someone who is drinking that I need to speak with."

Zevran willingly followed her, even despite his claims of exhaustion. She led the elf out of the Diamond Quarter and down to the Commons, ending their jaunt in front of Tapster's. Zevran eyed her suspiciously as he saw the dive, but she merely winked at him and headed inside. She heard him sigh behind her, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he headed up the steps after her. Inside, the bartender greeted her with a grunt and told her that as much as he appreciated her business, he would cut her off this time at ten pints. Zevran gaped at her in shock. The bartender then gestured to where Oghren was, and Revan tipped him a silver.

Oghren was idling over a tankard near the swill bucket, slowly teetering like a gyroscope from the alcohol. His red beard was glistening with drops of spilt ale; he looked to be several pints deep at this point in the night. He looked up at Revan's approach and grinned widely.

"Well, well, well. Couldn't get enough of old Oghren, eh? Care to tell me how I ended up in my own bed the other night?" the dwarf slurred at her.

"Magic, dear Oghren," Revan winked at him. "May I introduce you to one of my illustrious companions, Zevran Arainai of the Antivan Crows?"

"Formerly of the Crows," the elf corrected her.

The dwarf, even drunk, eyed them curiously. "You certainly have some strange bedfellows, Warden."

Zevran coughed awkwardly and turned his face away. Revan merely smiled. "You have yet to meet all of them. They get stranger. Regardless, I come bearing a gift for you."

"Oh?" Oghren lowered his tankard.

Revan pulled out the map that she had swiped from Rose's desk. "A little gift given to our leader by the prince himself. A map to the last known location of your wife, somewhere known as Caridin's Cross."

Oghren stared at the piece of parchment in awe. "Branka was looking for the Anvil of the Void, the secret to building golems, but it was lost centuries ago. The smith Caridin build it, and with it, Orzammar had a hundred years of peace, while it was protected by the golems forged on the Anvil. As far as anyone knows, the Anvil was built in the old Ortan Thaig. Branka planned to start looking there, if she could ever find it. All she knew was that it was past Caridin's Cross. But no one's seen that thaig in five hundred years."

"It must be your lucky day then," Revan said. "We are leaving in the morning."

"Ah, Warden, I could just about sodding kiss you!" the dwarf exclaimed. "This is the best news I've had in years!"

"I would prefer if you did not," Revan chuckled. "What would your wife think when we find her?"

"Probably, 'Oghren ya bleedin' bastard, what took you so long?'" he chuckled to himself.

Revan reached and grabbed the tankard out of his flailing hands before pouring the contents into the swill bucket. "If you are coming, then starting now, no alcohol. At least until this is over. We all need to be alert in the Deep Roads. Understood?"

"Aye aye, ma'am!" Oghren gave a fake salute. "I better get my things. And prob'ly sober up. Gotta find my axe…where in the name of the Ancestors' tits did I put that thing…"

Oghren started staggering back toward his house. Revan watched him go, making sure he did not stop at the bar on his way out. Zevran, meanwhile, shook his head.

"That was Branka's husband?" he asked flatly.

"Indeed," she responded.

"Whatever did she see in him…" the elf mused. "Now, what about that drink I was promised?"

Revan giggled and led him to the bar. They had barely sat down when an anonymous patron paid for their drinks; word of her exploits with the Carta had spread like wildfire. They toasted to the dead and drank. The next round was also bought by another patron. After toasting a sufficient amount to get slightly tipsy, they began exchanging stories of the past few days. She was able to recount some of the more gruesome and lewd details to him, details she had prudently left out in her retelling to Rose. When she had finished her tale, Zevran began telling of their adventure to Aeducan Thaig.

"So I'm pretty sure Shale is in love with Sten," Zevran concluded. Revan's head rested on the bar, but her shoulders were heaving with laughter.

She managed to raise her head just enough to turn to Zevran and asked, barely stifling her giggling, "Is the sentiment returned?"

"Well, given that he was remarking on Shale's battle prowess and strength with some reverence and had started calling the golem, 'Kadan', I would say it's a safe bet," Zevran commented.

Revan threw her head back with raucous laughter. Zevran smiled at her mirth. "I wonder how that would work…"

"Let us pray we never find out," the assassin shuddered. Revan toasted the sentiment.

They continued talking into what passed for night in Orzammar. Zevran asked her why she had not accompanied them to the thaig. Grimacing, she told him more about her first time in Thedas, how she had allied herself with a darkspawn that had called himself the Architect. And, inevitably, how she had betrayed him. Revan was sure that, if she were to trespass too long in the Deep Roads, he would seek her out to determine why, exactly, she had returned. Zevran shivered at the thought of an intelligent darkspawn. The Jedi carefully neglected to mention her thoughts on his true nature. She asked more about his life in the Crows and in Antiva, things he was more than happy to speak of. It helped distract her from the looming thought of having to descend into the Deep Roads once again. Finally, the bartender cut her off, and, leaning on each other, the pair returned to the Assembly. Ever the gentleman, Zevran walked her to her quarters first before returning to his. It might have had something to do with the fact that he had drank significantly less than her. The Jedi waved the thought off and collapsed on the hard, stone bed. The next weeks would be a challenge, and the closer she was to the Archdemon, the worse the dreams would be. Best to sleep now, before entering the darkness of the Deep Roads.

---

She loathed the Deep Roads.

Being underground made her feel trapped, claustrophobic, and cut off from the Force. The air was stale and still. The darkness permeated everywhere the dwarves had not touched, and even then everything that the dwarves had touched was illuminated by the dull glow of lava or the sickly light of lyrium lamps. The construction at least was sturdy, but many sections had collapsed or fallen to ruin through the ages. The rock prevented her from seeing very far with her Force-given sight, and the darkness prevented her from seeing very far with her normal sight. Worst of all, her skin continually crawled from the ever-present, ever-spreading corruption of the Blight. The globs of darkened, sticky taint dripped from the walls in some sections, hanging like mucus from the ceiling, sticking to the underside of their boots. Every nerve in her body was alert, constantly. Each day they traveled, it became harder and harder for her to meditate.

The map to Caridin's Cross was at least, for the most part, accurate. Of course, some of the passages marked on the map had collapsed from the passage of time, so they had to find detours, but otherwise it was fairly easy going. The roads nearest Orzammar had been kept fairly clear of darkspawn, and the tunnels farther out were clear only due to the fact that they had been summoned by the Archdemon to wherever he was gathering his forces. Revan had the sneaking suspicion that they were getting closer to him, however. Revan and Morrigan alternated between keeping a magelight alive to help with their passage. They had been lent two tamed brontos to carry supplies for them, and both obediently trod behind the group, encouraged by Morrigan; Revan stayed far away from them as to not scare them. Rose and Oghren led the way, the Warden due to her commanding presence and Oghren since he at least had some of what the dwarves called "Stone sense", or an innate connection to the Stone. The Jedi had her own theories about what their sense truly was, but she kept her thoughts to herself. The warrior was not the one to discuss it with; in truth, one of the Shapers, a young apprentice by the name of Valta whom she had met while examining the dwarven records, would have been the one to ask. Apparently, she had one of the keenest Stone senses in recent memory. Part of the Jedi wished they had brought her along with them, as she did not trust the carved structures of the old dwarves.

At least the rest of the companionship was good. Zevran and Sten were her constant companions. Both had seemed to forget their previous spats with her, and Zevran seemed almost jovial, while Sten seemed more relaxed than he had been in Haven. Perhaps it was because they were now back to securing treaties. Their current task made more sense to him, and the Qunari had surprised the Jedi by demonstrating his understanding of finding the Paragon in order to secure the throne for a king.

"An army needs a commander, and a people need a ruler," he had stated.

But it also might have been the fact that Sten and Shale seemed to get along swimmingly. The golem often walked with the Qunari, asking him questions on his faith and his philosophy. He would also tell it of battles he had fought, which the golem enjoyed greatly. Shale declined sharing anything about itself, though, since it could not remember much past being frozen in Haven for thirty years. Despite this, the two seemed to get along well, and spent as much time in companionable silence as they did talking. Revan thought it interesting that, despite Sten's aversion to magic and its creations, he and the artificial golem had a bond over their mutual aversion of mages – excepting Revan, they assured her. Any time Shale tried to insinuate anything against the Jedi, Sten shot it a warning glare; he had come to respect the General, despite her fits of rage and her dangerous abilities and her monstrous past.

If Morrigan was not helping scout ahead for safe passages or drawn into conversations by Revan or Rose, she had her nose buried in the grimoire Revan had brought back for her from Flemeth's hut. Every once and a while, she would aim a pointed glance at Revan, but she never said anything. Revan guessed that she was processing the information in its faded, worn pages. The tome was old. The leather binding had been replaced many times, yet the current iteration was still cracked with age. It was written in an archaic form of Galactic Basic that Revan could barely decipher, and then only because of her extensive training in the Jedi Archives as an apprentice. She guessed that Morrigan was struggling discerning its contents. Even then, its contents were…strange. And very, very dangerous.

Rose and Alistair were usually found at the front of the party, but every once and awhile one or both would drop back to converse with the others. Alistair had many questions for his General, and with a smile she would often turn them around and ask him his opinions. She pestered him about what he would do if he was in Bhelen's place, how he would handle the dysfunctioning Assembly and what would he do to help the dwarven people. She prodded him about what issues Orzammar had, both socially and economically. He was reluctant at first, having gotten used to the comfort of differing to Rose during the party's separation, but he quickly fell back into routine. He had grown more apt in the preceding weeks. Revan attributed his progress to his exposure to Rose, who was practical yet altruistic. The young noblewoman had a surprisingly shrewd mind, as was apparent by her choice to support Bhelen, or her decision to spare Avernius, a known bloodmage, and force him to continue his research for the Grey Wardens. She still had her ideals and morals, like her disagreement with supporting the existence of a cartel, but at least she was reasonable. Alistair was more stubborn, and Revan had been forced to spend an afternoon lecturing him on the role of the criminal underground in any major city and even in a country as a whole. However, he was learning. And at a faster pace than Morrigan gave him credit for.

When the Jedi was not embroiled in a lesson with the reluctant Warden, she was often sharing stories with Zevran and Oghren. The surly dwarf became more and more sober with every passing day, and as such he became more and more focused on locating his lost wife, but that did not stop him from hanging on Revan's every word during one of her tales of the Mandalorian War while trying to pretend to be looking for evidence of his house and spouse. Zevran was always interested in her tales, and would occasionally interject with one of his own. At one point, he accidentally revealed the origin of his relationship with the Rivaini pirate Isabela, the gorgeous, dark-haired beauty studded with gold and whose eyes burned like Revan's used to before she had committed herself to Carth. Apparently, he had met the enchanting duelist in the market of Antiva City, where Isabela was the imprisoned wife of a rich merchant and went by the name of Naishe. They had, much to Zevran's discomfort in admitting, struck up a torrid love affair. The elven assassin had taught the Rivaini how to wield a dagger, and Naishe had given him access to the manor so that he could carry out his contract to kill her husband. She had left the night of the assassination with two of his daggers and the clothes on her back and stolen one of her husband's ships. Every once and awhile, he would run into the smuggler and they would catch up. He assured Revan, with an uncharacteristic blush, that his affair with Isabela had been purely physical. Revan assured him in return that she did not mind his past love life, as hers had been undoubtedly more sordid. Oghren had given her a queer side glance at the comment, but refrained from asking her to elaborate. Zevran too looked like he wanted to interrogate her, but something held him back.

Their rests were a different story, however. The nightmares, as Revan had predicted, slowly got worse. She only slept the first rest after approximately a day of walking, though it was difficult to measure time in the tunnels; the following rest, Urthemiel's unnatural eyes were searching for her, and she awoke in a cold sweat. She refused to sleep after that, telling herself that it was too dangerous for her to open her mind to the Archdemon's in the realm of dreams. The truth, however, was that she was scared. The Archdemon was much stronger than her, a truth she was reluctant to acknowledge. She feared, through the glimpses into his alien mind, that she would not be able to protect her friends from him. She would fail to redeem herself. So, she meditated, shielding her mind and drifting along the currents of the Force. Even that, however, was difficult, because the Deep Roads were a dreadful place. Small creatures abounded, but they were always desperate. The Blight seeped through everywhere. And somewhere, all around or very far away, it was difficult to tell, was a presence more enormous and more ancient than Revan could comprehend. She did not try to probe it.

A few rests in, Rose became restless as well. Since the girl did not have the Jedi training to be able to meditate instead of sleep, she often stared into the fire, hoping the crackling of the flames would ease her mind and put her to sleep. Eventually, Revan joined her, and in hushed tones they talked. They had not had much time since Ostagar to just chat, and the girl's spirits improved after her horrid dreams, though the bags under her eyes remained. They talked about family and duty, of love and marriage, of death and guilt. Rose was exceptionally bright, Revan realized. Though she may not have been exposed much to the courts, she had not been lax in her studies. They talked about the Landsmeet, and Rose discussed which nobles they could count on, which could most likely be swayed to their side, and which would be staunch supporters of Loghain. The girl demonstrated her awareness that Alistair would be a contentious candidate for the throne, and expressed her initial concerns about Queen Anora, who was technically still the monarch of Ferelden, though Loghain had named himself regent as her father. Revan could see the weight of their task resting on the battlemaiden's shoulders, but she bore it well; the others had no idea the stress she was experiencing. Her steady presence and calm demeanor had kept their merry band together and prevented them from panicking, and all who met her were confident that with her, the Blight could be defeated. It had been apparent at the Circle, and with the Dalish, and even now as she negotiated with the dwarves. Revan was there to reassure her and commend her for her bravery and wisdom; she told Rose in no uncertain terms that she was doing admirably. Surreptitiously, Revan lulled Rose to sleep each night with the help of the Force, and through some mental exertion tried to shield the minds of her fellow Wardens from the probing consciousness of the Archdemon. Alistair, of course, usually just pretended to be asleep while they talked, knowing that Rose needed reassurance not just from him. Revan tried to help him sleep through the nightmares, too.

The third day they encountered their first darkspawn. It was scrawny, a runt that had been left behind by the main force to stand guard near Orzammar and deter the dwarves from wandering out. Their accompanying dwarf cut it down easily, his massive battleax cleaving the creature in twain with little effort, its black ichor spraying around the tunnels. The group shielded their faces and kept their mouths firmly closed; darkspawn blood would corrupt them quickly if swallowed, and Revan's warning about what had happened to Lyna echoed in the party's minds. After, they encountered a token resistance by the darkspawn, but the tunnels were conspicuously empty. Occasionally, when they made camp, a group of deepstalkers, reptilian bipeds with needle teeth arrayed like a lamprey, would try to ambush them and scavenge the party's food, but they were quickly cleared by the ferocity of the warriors. Revan tried to limit her use of the Force and of magic on such occasions as to not frighten the pack brontos and to save her strength, as the lack of sleep was slowly starting to take its toll on her.

It was the fifth day in the Deep Roads when they finally came across Caridin's Cross. The first indication they had was that the roads were gradually getting wider, and sign posts written in an old dialect started to appear. Ancient dwarven artifacts, broken pots and decaying wagon wheels and cracked stone tablets and the occasional tarnished and grimy coin and jewelry, collected on the side of the dwarven highway, left where their owners had abandoned them centuries ago in their flight. It was a large crossroads, apparently the largest recorded, and historically connected Orzammar to many of its vassal thaigs. Upon seeing the collection of sign posts and the widening highway and towering columns, Oghren looked around with wonder.

"Caridin's Cross!" he announced, reading the plaques and coming to the same conclusion as the Jedi. "I can't believe Bhelen actually tracked this place down. This used to be one of the biggest crossroads in the old empire. You could get anywhere from here. Including Ortan Thaig."

"What's so important about Ortan Thaig?" Rose asked out of curiosity, knowing little about the dwarves and their history.

"It's the home of Caridin, the Paragon who made the Anvil," Oghren explained patiently. "He was an Ortan before he founded his own house, and even then, he spent most of his time in their thaig. Branka figured it was the best guess for where the Anvil was located."

Rose examined their surroundings. This was the most Oghren had spoken since they had departed. "Do you know anything else about the Anvil?"

The sober dwarf shrugged. "No one but Caridin ever really knew more than that it had some kind of Stone-blessed power. Every golem who ever ranged across the empire was hammered on the steel of that Anvil, but no one ever knew exactly how they were made. But Branka was sure she could find out."

"And do you see any sign of her yet?"

"Not a one, but trust me, we will once we're on the path to the old Ortan Thaig," he said optimistically. "She was going to Caridin's home."

"Well then, let's go," Rose ordered. "Start looking for the road to Ortan Thaig. Oghren, Revan, you two are the only ones who can read ancient dwarven. Be alert."

Revan smiled and gave the girl a mock salute. She had told Rose in their late-night talks that she had learned how to read the scratched, faded, and archaic signs in her first journey to Thedas out of necessity; she had spent two weeks wandering the Deep Roads aimlessly before finding the Architect, who had taught her the letters. Oghren had demonstrated that, despite his blustering manner, he was quite learned, a side effect of having married a genius. Revan took the lead, Oghren accompanying her, and began scouting slightly ahead of the group. Even though they had met few darkspawn, there were many dangers in the Deep Roads. The dwarves had left clever traps in their wake, and many creatures, known and unknown, hid in the shadows. Which is why it was surprising to both her and Oghren when the first signs of life they encountered were a group of heavily armed dwarves, obviously from Orzammar. Revan cursed in a half dozen languages her inability to sense anything while surrounded by the Stone.

The thugs, for they were obviously thugs by the casteless brand under their eyes contrasting with the decent armor they wore, saw Revan and Oghren at the same time as the odd couple clamored over the rubble and noticed them. The leader, distinguished by his larger weapon, crossed his arms and glared at them appraisingly.

"Well, look what we have here," he mocked them, "some of Bhelen's new toadies…let's show them who's king!"

Revan rolled her eyes at the silly insult. She had heard better taunts slung across the battlefield by the Mandalorians, and even by some of the Republic soldiers. Carth had had an impressive list of jabs reserved for when he got truly angry. Revan drew her lightsabers as the goons drew their own weapons, but as soon as she ignited them the casteless balked. She fell upon them in a flurry, leaving Oghren far behind her. She slashed the leader across the chest as he was bringing down his maul, and the hammer fell to the ground along with its owner. The next dwarf fell without a head, and the third fell screaming as his arms fell separately to either side of him, the flesh on his shoulders smoking from the cauterizing blades. Revan cut through the others with just as much effort, a single bead of sweat falling from her forehead. These thugs were no match for her and her reflexes; they had not even brought a mage to counter her. A band of cutthroats were little challenge for her. However, she left one alive, only dismantling his weapons before aiming a blade pointedly at his throat.

"Go tell your master that the Grey Wardens do not tolerate interference in their dealings," Revan said calmly, her voice steel.

The dwarf in front of her, a dirty fellow with stringy, mousy hair and terrified eyes, nodded nervously, his knees visibly shaking. As soon as Revan lowered her lightsaber, he ran off as if his life depended on it. He tripped, fell on his hands, and immediately pushed himself up and stumbled forward into the shadows, determined to get as far away from the Jedi as possible. Oghren, who had not moved from his position in front of the rubble, just shook his head. He had not unsheathed his battleax.

"Ancestors, woman, you're a damn demon," he commented as the sound of their party approaching reached them. "Where'd you even learn how to fight like that?"

Revan winked at him. "Let us just say I raised in a place much like a Chantry, where I was trained as a priest, mage, and Templar."

Oghren stared at her in open confusion as Rose clambered over the rubble and immediately began questioning them as to why she had heard screaming. The bodies of the dwarves apparently were not a sufficient answer for the young Warden, so Revan explained that Harrowmont was trying to discourage their pursuit of the Paragon. Rose rubbed her temples in annoyance. Alistair grimaced in distaste and Zevran looked wholly disappointed with the attempt, obviously quite sure he could have done a better job of it. Sten merely looked on in contempt, Shale was statuesque, and Morrigan was indifferent, her nose still buried in her mother's grimoire.

The two scouts headed out ahead again, the rest of the party trailing behind. Interested, as that was the first time Oghren had seen Revan fight, he began asking the Jedi about her strange Chantry-like order. Revan tried to answer his questions to the best of her abilities, but explaining the Force to the dwarf was difficult, as they had little grasp of magical theory. Dwarves were connected to the Force, unlike the Fade, but it was a weak connection; Revan had read of races with a resistance to the Force, and dwarves seemed to fall into this category. Oghren found it curious that her order had trained its disciples in all three professions, even though they did not spread religion or negate powers like the Templars were trained to do. He also found it odd that the only weapons they used were lightsabers, although he found their configurations curious. After an hour or so of climbing around the rubble of the crossroads and traversing tunnels both constructed and natural, Revan located a sign for Ortan Thaig in a lull in Oghren's questions and comments. They waited for the party to catch up. All of them spent a few hours resting in the relative safety of the crossroads, before Rose led them down the road toward the lost thaig of House Ortan.

---

"By the tits of my ancestors, Ortan Thaig," Oghren swore, hands on his hips as he stood on a pile of rubble and observed the ruins of the once grand city. "I never thought I'd see this place in the flesh."

"Neither did I," Revan remarked sourly, the faint memories she had been gifted from Duncan flashing in her mind's eye. He and his companions had once been trapped by a demon possessing the skeletal remains of a dwarven king here, taken into the Fade just as she had been by the sloth demon in Kinloch Hold. The place was dangerous, and Revan could honestly say she would rather be stuck in a crypt on Korriban than in this place.

"I can see Branka all over this place," the dwarf continued, oblivious to her scowl, examining a nearby column. "She always took chips from the walls at regular intervals when she was in a new tunnel – check their composition. If she was still here, though, she'd have sentries out by now."

Rose looked where Oghren was looking, at a small notch carved in a stone pillar lining the wide avenue. "What can you tell me about these ruins?"

Oghren grunted, tearing his eyes away from the tiny mark that validated his hopes. "This was Caridin's home thaig. He was an Ortan before he got raised to Paragon. Even stayed here when he could have had his own house. I guess he didn't want to move his people to Bownammar."

Revan shuddered at the name. That place was even worse than here. Rose glanced between her and the dwarven warrior. "What's Bownammar?"

"The city of the damned," Revan hissed.

"The City of the Dead," Oghren corrected her. "Caridin built it to honor the Legion of the Dead, but it was more like a sodding mausoleum than anything. Of course, that was all before he built the Anvil. After that, he was the city's pet genius until he angered the king and fell into disfavor."

"There was a city here?" Rose asked out of curiosity.

"No, no, there was a thaig here, the Ortan Thaig," he treated her as if she was a small child. "Bownammar is north and west of here, but that's not important. Or at least, I hope it isn't. The City of the Dead is known as the Dead Trenches since the darkspawn conquered it. Much of the Legion was destroyed when the fortress fell."

"And you have no idea where this Anvil is?" Rose frowned.

"No one does. At the time, Ortan Thaig was almost part of the main city. No one bothered to mark where the Anvil was stored," he shrugged again. "Now, it's impossible to know if it's been moved or even destroyed. But trust me. If we find it, we find Branka."

"What if your Branka and everyone died?" Morrigan raised her head from her book, earning a reproachful glare from all present.

"Well, aren't you a sodding bright spot today?" Oghren remarked sarcastically. "If everyone's dead, there'd be evidence of a major battle, wouldn't there? Three hundred or so dwarves don't just fade away."

Rose shot the witch a baleful look. "All right, this thaig looks to be rather large, so let's split up and see if we can find anything. Sten, you go with Shale. Oghren, you get Zevran. Revan, you take Morrigan. Meet back here in three hours."

The Qunari and golem seemed content with their assigned pair, while the elf and the dwarf glared at each other with suspicious, narrowed eyes. Morrigan looked somewhat surprised that she had been paired with anyone at all, least of all Revan. Though, casting an annoyed glance at the happy Warden couple and rolling her eyes, her surprise faded rather quickly. As the others split off in random directions, climbing the rubble or exploring the side tunnels that led to unused sections of the city, Morrigan secured the brontos as Revan cast a light that would expire in three hours, a sign to the others to return. If the others wandered too far, it would be of little use, but it was something to keep track of time in the monotonous gloom of the Deep Roads. Then, the two mages departed, Morrigan taking the lead as Revan tried to not think about the horrors Duncan had encountered here.

They continued in silence for a while, brushing aside old cobwebs and searching amongst piles of broken stone and blackened bones for evidence of recent activity. It was Morrigan who began speaking.

"You've read it, I presume?" she began without preamble.

"Yes," the Jedi admitted honestly. There was no sense in dancing around the issue.

Morrigan's mouth narrowed to a thin line. "The contents are…disturbing, to say the least. More disturbing than her false grimoire."

"You mean the fact that her abilities seem to be far more powerful than either of us anticipated? Yes, I agree," Revan also grimaced.

"Did she use those abilities against you? When you fought?" Morrigan asked.

Revan bit her lip, considering how to answer. The silence hung heavy in the eerie tunnels, accentuated by the sound of their breathing and the echoes of their footsteps. "In truth, I chose not to fight her."

The young witch turned on her, her yellow eyes flaming in rage. "You did what?" she screamed.

"I did not fight her," Revan repeated. "I did not kill her."

Morrigan stared at her in shock. "I thought I could trust you. I thought you understood."

Revan grabbed the girl by her shoulders. She was surprisingly thin. "Morrigan, I do understand. I am your friend. But trust me when I tell you, killing her would have accomplished nothing, and would have endangered Zevran. You know the amulet she wore when she took us in after Ostagar?"

"Yes…" Morrigan shied away from her, angry and confused, but stopped at the mention of the amulet.

"She was not wearing it when we returned," Revan told her.

"That could mean anything," Morrigan dismissed her.

Revan fixed her with her one good eye. "Is that what her grimoire tells you?"

The Chasind girl thought back to her readings. Revan knew which section she was thinking of. Flemeth had spent a few pages describing in detail how one could bind a portion of one's soul to an object, and through the survival of the object, ensure one's own survival. Flemeth had told Revan as much when they had first met, when the Witch of the Wilds had insinuated that she had sent a copy of her soul to the Republic to wrap up Revan's unfinished business. Revan now knew that Flemeth had lied to her, as it would have been impossible for her to have gotten something into Republic space, but it did not change the fact that it was possible for the ancient witch to split her soul. And Revan was sure she had, in preparation for Morrigan turning on her.

Morrigan looked away, having come to the same conclusion as Revan. Her yellow eyes, which Revan normally associated with the Dark Side, were calm now, even reflective. Despite Alistair's misgivings and Leliana's dirty looks, the witch was no more than a young girl still learning about the world and about her role in it. She liked the pretty baubles the merchants hawked and had looked in envy at the fine ladies in Denerim and the Diamond Quarter. She showed genuine affection for animals, sneaking Fuzzywuggins scraps of meat from supper and tending carefully to the brontos, checking their hooves at every rest and making sure they were always fed and watered. She softened at the sight of Rose and Alistair together, but only when she thought no one was paying her any mind. Morrigan was a kind girl, even if her demeanor was surly and tactless. She reminded Revan in some ways of when Revan had been an apprentice. The apostate was special.

After a while, their search still fruitless except for the discovery of the monolithic statues of old dwarven Paragons across the underground river, Morrigan sneaked a glance at the Jedi. "You mentioned being my friend."

"I did," Revan confirmed.

"Did you mean it?" Morrigan asked, her vulnerable side making a rare appearance.

The Jedi stopped and looked the girl full in the face. "Yes, I did. I am your friend, Morrigan, and will remain so. I do not know if you would like a friend such as me, but you have me if you desire."

The girl's mouth opened, gaping as she tried to find the words. "I suppose I do not understand. Of all the things I could have imagined would have resulted when Flemeth told me to go with you, the very last would have been that I would find in you a friend. Perhaps even a sister."

Revan smiled warmly at the girl. "You are a bright young woman, Morrigan. I value your friendship. I am sorry I could not do what you asked of me, but it was beyond my abilities and would have done nothing. I hope you will forgive me."

Morrigan smiled wanly. "I think I am beginning to understand, though her true nature eludes me. I realize that she is more than she appears now. In fact, she may not even be human anymore, if she ever truly was."

"Once, perhaps," Revan concurred. "She is more now. Something else."

"An Archdemon?" the witch asked.

The Jedi shook her head. "No. She tried to deceive me into thinking she was, to develop kinship and trust. But it was a lie."

Morrigan chewed on her words. "I forgive you. Thank you for telling me the truth."

Revan took her hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for your understanding. If she ever comes for you, however, know that I will stand with you, without question."

"Revan?" the Chasind asked. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"Of course," the Jedi responded. She anticipated a question on the Jedi, or perhaps her deal with the Archdemon, or maybe even on Zevran.

"Why did you really join the Grey Wardens?"

The Jedi paused. The water under the old stone bridge churned wildly, glowing faintly from the veins of lyrium beneath it. "I wanted to redeem myself."

"You could have done that without becoming a Grey Warden," Morrigan countered. "You talk of returning to your beloved, amongst the stars. But you know that you cannot; the taint will take you eventually."

Revan's blood turned cold. It was true. "Do you know why Grey Wardens are necessary to end a Blight?"

"No."

"It is a closely guarded secret in the order," Revan continued. "They do not tell their recruits, and for the most part only tell their most senior Wardens in the event that a Blight does occur. After all, who would join the Grey Wardens if they learned that death is inevitable upon joining? You see, Morrigan, Grey Wardens are unique. The Joining involves the blood of an Archdemon and a darkspawn, effectively making the Warden appear to the darkspawn as one of their own. When an Archdemon is slain, its soul flees its failing body and seeks a new host, usually a darkspawn under its control, as the darkspawn have no soul. It will find the nearest host. If a Grey Warden slays it, however, its soul will try to inhabit the Warden. The souls of the Archdemon and the Warden clash, and both cease to exist in this plane. The Warden sacrifices their life to end the life of the Archdemon and end the Blight."

Morrigan stared at her in barely concealed horror. "And what does this have to do with you joining?"

"I have part of the Archdemon's soul," Revan explained. "As such, I cannot kill him, but he cannot kill me. However, if I am present when he is slain, the part of his soul within me will call to him, and as I am a Grey Warden, he will come, sensing my blood. He will try to inhabit me instead of Rose, or Alistair, or any other Warden."

"And you will die," Morrigan finished.

Revan smiled sadly. "The price of my redemption. I started the Blight, so I will finish it."

"Is there no other way?" she asked.

"Not that I know of," Revan sighed.

"And what of your beloved?"

"I made him a promise," Revan echoed, "that I would return after I had defeated the evil that threatens everyone. I promised him that I would right my wrongs. I will keep that vow, even if it means only returning to him in dreams."

Morrigan looked away, her head hanging low. Whether it was in thought or in grief, Revan could not discern. They walked in solemn silence through the abandoned thaig. The buildings here, while grand, were in as much disrepair as those in the slums of Dust Town. Roofs were smashed, facades had faded away, doors hung ajar, steps were crushed, walls crumbled. The denizens had once been proud people, but their pride had yielded nothing but collapsing ruins. Roving bands of deepstalkers stalked them through their examination of the thaig, but Morrigan's magic and Revan's quick blades slaughtered those who got too close and scared away those with more sense.

Revan gestured for them to stop when she found an odd charred bone belonging to a darkspawn, with visible gnaw marks gouged on its spongy surface. Morrigan looked on in confusion, but Revan recalled her tracking skills she had learned from the Dalish and began scouring the area. The bone was too neatly picked clean, and the teeth marks were not from a deepstalker or other darkspawn; they were too regular, too flat. Something else was down here. Eventually, following piles of refuse and remains, they found a dwarf leaning over the decaying corpse of a dwarven mercenary amongst the buildings, sorting through his belongings and deciding which to leave and which to take. The dwarf wore mismatched, ill-fitting armor and had stringy, ill-kept hair. His veins ran dark with corruption.

The dwarf jumped at their approach and hissed. "There's nothing for you here! It's mine! I've claimed it!"

"Who are you? What are you doing down here?" Revan approached cautiously.

"You've come to take my claim!" the dwarf accused her. "You lot are all alike: thieving scoundrels! Well, I found it first!"

"He is nothing more than a scavenger," Morrigan dismissed him. "Let us leave him."

"Begone, you!" the dwarf shrilled. "You'll bring the dark ones back, you will! They'll crunch your bones!"

"How did he survive down here by himself?" Morrigan wondered.

"Darkspawn," Revan answered simply. The witch shuddered in revulsion.

"It burns when it goes down. It burns!" the dwarf survivor remarked. "It's my claim, not yours! Crunch your bones!"

With that, he ran off. Revan, feeling pity for the poor man who had obviously had his wits addled from spending too long in the silence and darkness, made to go after him. Morrigan merely sighed and followed Revan and her altruism, but they were stopped by the arrival of several giant spiders, who fell from the entrance of the tunnels the dwarf had fled down. Morrigan transformed into a great bear and roared her indignation, while Revan ignited her blades. Morrigan swiped at the spiders, their webs having little effect on the massive creature. Revan, more prone to being caught in the sticky mass they ejected, spun pirouettes around them, slashing at their legs to cripple them before piercing their giant abdomens and spilling their guts. After dispatching the nest, they set off again after the lone dwarf. The dwarf led them through a warren of tunnels, eventually ending in a small cave. In the middle of the cave was a small cooking fire, casting its thin, warm light into the corners of the stone. The floor was littered with items: ancient dwarven relics, crude and twisted darkspawn creations, scavenged gear from dwarven expeditions, and the odd natural item that the dwarf had picked up or pried away. It was a cave of wonders. Morrigan looked on in disgust. The dwarf, dirty and hunched, hissed from the other side of the fire.

"Go away!" he demanded. "This is mine! Only I gets to plunder its riches!"

"This would not happen to be Branka's campsite, would it?" Revan said, keeping her hand away from her blades and in full view.

"It's mine!" he insisted. "I'm the one who found it. I drove out the crawlers. Now it's mine, not yours, and not the other's!"

Revan noted the addition. "I am not here to steal anything, I promise."

The dwarf finally looked at her. Really looked. "Pretty lady…" he sighed, "pretty eye, pretty hair…smells like the steam of burning water, blue as the deepest rock…" Revan kept her face decidedly neutral. He was obviously delusional. "So…the pretty lady won't take anything from Ruck? You won't take Ruck's shiny worms and pretty rocks?"

Ruck. The name was familiar to Revan; she had met his mother, Filda, while roaming Orzammar as the others went to Aeducan Thaig. "I just want to talk," Revan assured him, slowly lowering herself into a sitting position. She gestured for Morrigan to do the same. "I will not take anything."

"Oh," Ruck considered. "Ruck not mind that, maybe…"

"So your name is Ruck?" Revan gently prodded.

"Ruck not a pretty name," the dwarf said shyly, picking up a loose stone and twirling it in his fingers, "not pretty like lady. Ruck is small and ugly and twisted."

"I think I met your mother," the Jedi announced, much to the apparent surprise of Morrigan. "Is her name Filda?"

Ruck looked up abruptly, his glazed eyes wide in terror. "N-n-n-no," he stammered, shaking. "No Filda. No mother. No warm blanket and stew and pillow and soft words! Ruck doesn't deserve good memories. No no no no no…"

"Your mother misses you. She asked me to find you."

"Sh-she did not know, not what I did," Ruck stared into the fire, shaking visibly. "I was very, very, very, very angry and then someone was dead. They wanted to send Ruck to the mines. If I went to the mines, sh-she would know. Everyone would know. So I came here, instead. Once you eat…once you takes in the darkness…you not miss the light so much. You know, do you not? Ruck sees, yes. He sees the darkness inside you."

"That…is a frightening thought," Revan shuddered. Morrigan nodded her agreement behind her.

"I means nothing by it…" the dwarf tried placating her.

"How did you survive?" Morrigan asked, disbelieving Revan's answer.

"When the dark ones were here, I kept to the shadows," the dwarf answered. "They don't look in the shadows, not if you're quiet. Not if you eat their flesh. Then the dark ones think you're one of them. They leave you alone. But now they're gone."

That troubled Revan. "Do you know where these 'dark ones' went?"

"I thinks they went south, pretty lady. Far, far to the south," Ruck almost sounded grateful. "That is where the dark master calls them with his beautiful voice. So much joy when he awoke!"

"The Archdemon," Morrigan whispered.

"And after the dark master awoke," Ruck continued, "he called his children and they all went. I wanted to go, too, and gaze upon his beauty…"

"Where is this dark master now?" Revan pried him from his reverie. "Do you know?"

"He stopped calling," Ruck responded sullenly. "I wish I could go see him but Ruck – no, no, Ruck – Ruck is a coward."

"Sometimes it is best to be a coward," Revan soothed him. "He is not worth gazing upon. Tell me, Ruck, how long have you been down here?"

"Too long," Ruck shook his head. "I just think…five years? Six? Ruck no longer remembers the smells and sights of the city."

"That is such a long time!" the Jedi empathized. "You poor dear!"

Ruck smiled. "The pretty lady understands. She knows how Ruck feels, she does."

Revan smiled, though her stomach churned. She did indeed know how the soiled dwarf felt. All too well. "Ruck, you mentioned another down here with you. Who else is here?"

Ruck frowned. "Stupid, thieving other…he takes Ruck's things, he does! Ruck tells him to leave, but the other refuses. He pretends to feel bad for poor, ugly Ruck, but he is just as ugly and twisted. He lives across the river, he does. He will not leave Ruck alone!"

"I will deal with this other," she assured him. "Thank you for your time, Ruck."

"Goodbye, pretty lady," the dwarf smiled toothily at her, sending a shiver up her spine. She figured out what he was referencing in regards to her prettiness, however: he could see the Archdemon within her. The sooner she could leave, the better. She needed no more reminders of her mistakes.

The campsite that Ruck had inhabited had been occupied by a larger force at some point, and many of his treasures had obviously been scavenged from a large expedition. Upon leaving the cave, Morrigan showed Revan some of the documents she had found littered amongst the junk while Ruck had been distracted by the Jedi. They were notes, written in a small, concise hand that bordered on chicken scratch. Revan hypothesized that they belonged to Branka, or someone in her retinue. Morrigan stowed the papers as evidence that they were on the right track, and Revan led her across the river, in the direction that Ruck had indicated. Perhaps this "other" would yield some more information in regards to Branka. Perhaps this "other" was Branka. One could hope.

Across the river, they were greeted with an odd sight: one of the old dwarven houses had light streaming through its windows. The glow of the fire was obvious from the bridge. As they approached, Revan noticed that the house in question had recent repairs, including a haphazard repair to the roof and some crude patches to the walls. Simple traps were arrayed at the egresses. Revan led the way, careful to avoid the traps, and knocked courteously on the door. There was a rustling inside, the hiss of iron being drawn, the clanking of armor moving. Footsteps neared the door. Revan took a step back, prepared for a paranoid dwarf to jump out. It was obvious by the precautions that this was no darkspawn, and was most likely a warrior or scout who had been separated from their expedition. Revan was mildly surprised that the survivor had not lost their mind as Ruck had. But she was prepared just in case she was wrong.

She was, fortunately, not. The survivor cracked the door open just enough to glimpse out but enough that he could quickly shut it and defend himself if necessary. And it was indeed a he. The brief glimpse Revan had through the narrow door revealed a tangled black beard and hard, dark eyes. The door closed, and Revan heard the unlatching of what she assumed to be trip wires or old locking mechanisms. Then, the door opened fully, revealing a young male dwarf with thick, shiny black hair and matching beard, wearing soiled clothes under a hodgepodge of scavenged armor, but wielding a fine dwarven longsword. He stared with hard eyes at Revan and Morrigan, flitting suspiciously between the two of them before the confusion overtook his caution. He was handsome for a dwarf, but he was dangerously thin.

"Ancestors, I never thought I'd see surfacers down here," he shook his head. "But I must ask, strangers, who are you and what brings you to these ruins?"

"I am Dragonheart, a Grey Warden," Revan introduced herself. "And this is one of my companions, Morrigan."

The dwarf's eyes began to water. "A Grey Warden…Ancestors be praised! I never thought I would see another soul here besides crazy old Ruck. I know you didn't come for me, so what brought you down here? The Calling?"

Revan suppressed a shudder at the mention of the Calling. She remembered the echoes from Duncan's memories. "No. We seek the Paragon Branka and the Anvil of the Void. And who are you?"

"Paragon Branka is dead, Warden," the dwarf shook his head again. "She's been gone for two years now. And the Anvil of the Void has certainly been lost. I am called Duran…just Duran, I suppose now."

"Duran Aeducan?" Revan asked in surprise. Morrigan looked at her in bewilderment.

"Ah, you've heard of me," Duran sheathed his sword finally. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It's only been, what, a few months now?"

"And who is this now?" Morrigan questioned the Jedi. "Another lost soul you pledged to find?"

"This is Prince Bhelen's brother," Revan explained to the witch. "He was accused of murdering his brother, Trian, and was exiled into the Deep Roads and stripped from the Memories, the harshest punishment a dwarf can receive."

Duran glared at Revan. "Aye, that's the truth of it, though I was wrongfully accused. I didn't murder Trian. I was framed by Bhelen."

"So he played you?" Morrigan asked. "How crafty of him."

"Duran, I am afraid I have some bad news for you," Revan sighed. "Shortly after your exile, your father died. I am so sorry."

The exiled prince stared at her in shock. "Oh." He sat on the floor of the entryway. "Well that was…not what I expected to hear."

"I am sorry," she repeated, taking a seat next to him, carefully avoiding the many traps.

"Bhelen, I take it," the dwarf spit.

"So the rumors say," Revan said.

Duran stared at his knees. "It's surprising how many rumors end up to be true. Bhelen was always the shrewdest of us, though he pretended he didn't want the crown. Ha! A bunch of bronto shit, if you ask me. I never wanted the crown. Verily. I swore up and down the streets of the Diamond Quarter that I didn't want the crown. I would have gladly abdicated for Bhelen if he'd have asked. But instead, he framed me, ruined me, and sent me here to die. I guess he thought I was like him and was lying through my teeth. You mentioned he was still a prince? Did someone steal his inheritance then?"

"Lord Harrowmont is contesting his claims, claiming that your father named him heir on his deathbed. The Assembly is in deadlock," Revan relayed.

"Of course they are, the useless cowards," Duran spit again. "And to break the deadlock, they need a Paragon, hence Branka. How did you get wrapped up in this, Warden Dragonheart?"

"There is a Blight," Revan told him, "and the dwarves of Orzammar signed an ancient treaty dedicating their support to the Grey Wardens in a Blight. We came to collect on this treaty, but the Assembly can do nothing without a king."

Duran growled. "You are not the bearer of good news, Warden. How many are with you?"

"Two other Wardens, a Qunari warrior, a golem, a 'former' Antivan Crow, a Circle mage, an Orlesian bard, and Morrigan," Revan recounted. "Oh! And Oghren is accompanying us to find Paragon Branka."

"You got that layabout sober enough to go with you?" the dwarf asked skeptically from beneath bushy black eyebrows. "Color me impressed. And a golem! Are the other Wardens awaiting your return on the surface?"

Revan grimaced. "There are no other Wardens. They were slaughtered in a battle with the Archdemon's horde when a Ferelden commander pulled his forces back."

Duran's face fell. "My apologies, Dragonheart. That is tragic news."

"Indeed," she sighed. There was a pause. "You may be exiled, Duran, but the dwarves of Orzammar still speak of your battle prowess. We would be honored if you joined us in our journey."

"You believe in my innocence?" Duran raised an eyebrow.

"I honestly do not care if you are innocent or guilty," she admitted. "I am guilty of many crimes. I started the Blight, and I intend to finish it. We offer a chance at redemption, if you would like it."

He stared at her in horror. "How does one start a Blight?"

"Through many bad decisions," she confessed.

He thought about her offer. His stomach growled. "I will go with you," he finally said, "but only until you find Paragon Branka, or what is left of her. My place is down here; I will not go to the surface with you. I will finish my sentence down here, fighting darkspawn until I die."

"As you wish," Revan stood and offered him a hand up. He accepted. "The offer to join us will remain."

The party of three traversed the decaying roads and passed between perilous alleys back towards the meeting point. Their three hours were almost up. Revan detailed their adventures so far, mentioning that the Wardens had decided to throw their lot in with Bhelen, feeling that he was the stronger of the two candidates. Duran reluctantly agreed with their choice, saying that Harrowmont was a good general, but a terrible politician. "Warriors should never be kings," he cited. Revan had the feeling that he was referencing himself, as it became apparent that Duran had always been much more inclined to fighting than to schmoozing. He detested the deshyrs and despised the Assembly. Apparently, he had often snuck out of meetings to go fight in the Provings instead of attending to his princely duties. He had been planning on becoming the leader of Orzammar's warriors upon Trian taking the throne, but such things were never to be. Due to his direct and charming manner, many deshyrs had taken a liking to him. There had been rumors circling around the Assembly that a group of delegates had been planning on bypassing his unpopular older brother Trian upon King Endirin's death and putting Duran on the throne instead. This had, for obvious reasons, alarmed all three brothers. Trian had become outright hostile toward Duran, while Bhelen had begun plotting against them both, and meanwhile Duran was desperately trying to prove to both of them that he was better suited to swinging a maul than a scepter. After his framing and sentencing, Harrowmont had given him a sword and wished him luck, believing that the prince was innocent, but Duran spit on him and declared that if Harrowmont had had a spine, he would have run Duran through on the spot, knowing that a quick death was better than what awaited him in the Deep Roads. Duran had been surviving off of deepstalkers and spiders for the past several months, refusing to eat the tainted darkspawn flesh even despite its abundance. He knew the consequences. He had wandered through the Deep Roads until spotting Ruck, the first sentient being he had seen, and followed him back to Ortan Thaig. There was fresh water here, there were several bands of deepstalkers and deep mushrooms grew aplenty, and he could take shelter in the ruins and hope for the best. Meeting Revan and Morrigan was the first time he had been able to think about anything more than just surviving until the next day.

They were the last ones back at the meeting place. Oghren was giddy about something Rose was showing him, and the others were gathering around a fire that Alistair had built. The golem was the first to spot the three, though it narrowed its eyes suspiciously at the sight of yet another traveling companion. Everyone stood to gawk at Revan and Morrigan's find, and Oghren guffawed immediately at the sight of the bedraggled prince and flourished a mock bow. Duran ignored him and introduced himself grandly to Rose, understanding her importance from Revan's brief synopsis. He greeted her as if they were in court, and he still a prince and she still a noble lady. Rose did not blush, but was taken aback just for a second before she remembered her courtly training. She curtsied as best she could, proffering her humbleness and inviting him to share their provisions and their fire. Duran graciously accepted, even as Zevran and Alistair snickered behind the noble girl's back. They were silenced by a pointed glare from her that made Revan proud. At the fire, Sten wordlessly handed the emaciated dwarf a bowl of stew made with the dried meat they had brought with them from Orzammar and with the roots and tubers and mushrooms they had scrounged or picked or brought. Duran devoured it, not speaking a word until his bowl was clean, and then, only when Sten had refilled it, did the dwarf begin telling the others the tale of his exile. The others hung on to his every word, with the exception of Revan, Morrigan, and Oghren. The three moved off to the side, and Oghren excitedly showed the Jedi Rose's find: a journal, written in a neat, compact, familiar hand that bordered on chicken scratch. The cover was battered, but intact, and not nearly as old as everything else in the thaig. Revan took the proffered journal and skimmed its pages, noting the descriptions of the Deep Roads and the evidence that its author had found to indicate their path. The last entry, however, was the most illuminating:

We found evidence today that the Anvil of the Void was not built in the Ortan Thaig. We will go south, to the Dead Trenches. The Anvil is somewhere beyond. My soldiers tell me that I am mad, that the Dead Trenches are crawling with darkspawn, that we will surely die before we find the Anvil…if we find it. I leave this here in case they're right. If I die in the Trenches, perhaps someone can yet walk past my corpse and retrieve the Anvil. For if it remains lost, so do we all. If I have not returned and Oghren yet lives, tell him…no, what I have to say should be for his ears alone.

This is my farewell.

Revan marveled at the find of Branka's journal before her face suddenly soured. "Did you not tell Rose that Bownammar was north and west of here?"

Oghren laughed sheepishly. "I might be getting a bit turned around."

"So much for the famed dwarven Stone sense…" Revan said sarcastically, earning a dirty glare from her dwarven companion.

---

The trek to the Dead Trenches was perilous. As soon as they started on the southern routes, they began encountering far more darkspawn than previously. Luckily, their Warden senses were alert, and no wandering patrol or straggling runt managed to surprise them. However, their journey was starting to take its toll. Rose and Alistair both had deep bags under their eyes, and the sleep deprivation was making them irritable. Alistair and Morrigan began bickering more and more the farther they journeyed. Rose lost the motivation to keep the peace, and the angry hissing and hurled insults became almost constant. Duran, gaining strength now that he had food, took point and tried to keep the party together. The prince was a natural leader, much like Rose, but he was obviously more used to dwarves and their sense of honor, as compared to their band of misfits. He managed to keep them on the correct path, leaving the real leadership to Rose and, when she could not keep it together, Revan. Revan was not much better off than her compatriots; the proximity to Urthemiel was beginning to set her on edge, more so than usual, and her meditations were now plagued with scattered thoughts directly from the alien conscious. Zevran was constantly by her side now, trying to keep her spirits up while surreptitiously giving her glances of concern when he thought she was not paying attention. He made sure she ate and refused to let her do much in the way of maintaining her armor or weapons, insisting that she meditate instead while he took care of her chores. Revan consistently tried to refuse, but always gave in as soon as Sten shot her a pointed look. The Qunari knew what ailed her.

The stench of the corruption got progressively stronger. The brontos became skittish. Revan's head began to pound the day before they arrived at the Dead Trenches. She could feel Urthemiel trying to claw his way into her skull. She kept him at bay, most of her energy sapped by her continued effort to shield her and the other Wardens' minds. They could not let Urthemiel know the truth about their situation. Right now, they had an advantage over him: Urthemiel knew that three Grey Wardens had survived, and he knew one was Revan. Though Urthemiel was arrogant, he was afraid of Revan because she possessed a part of him, and he knew she had considerable powers. He did not know, however, that she refused to use those powers, and he did not know that political turmoil had limited the size of their army.

It was almost a surprise when they finally reached Bownammar, now known as the Dead Trenches. They had been slowly picking their way through a small tunnel, an offshoot of a road, though the dwarves had not paved this small, narrow access tunnel. Revan suspected it was made recently, perhaps by the Legion of the Dead. They had marched single file, Duran at the front, Rose right behind him, and Alistair right behind her. Revan remained near the back, mindful of their rear. More than once, darkspawn had converged upon them from behind, and Revan had had to vault over the brontos to dispatch the group that had followed them. That day, however, Duran stopped abruptly at the mouth of the tunnel. Before him, fires raged. Revan could smell the smoke, the burning of pitch and the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh that made her want to retch. Morrigan looked how she felt. Rose steeled her face, pushed past Duran in the cramped space, and boldly led them in to the Dead Trenches. A great bridge spanned across a chasm, leading to the famed gates of the fortress of Bownammar. The fires raged from the chasm, a deep trench filled with the army of Urthemiel. The guttural roars and clanking of iron echoed from below. The darkspawn were numerous. Rose approached the edge of the chasm, facing her fear and wanting to see their enemy for herself. Revan followed. And as she peered over the edge, glimpsing the torches of the army that vastly outnumbered them, a great shape shot past them into the air. The bony plates that armored the monstrous Urthemiel shone like a beetle's carapace in the flickering, orange light. The Archdemon, a monstrous dragon even larger than the High Dragon, roared as he soared past them on membranous wings that pulsed with dark blood. He landed on the bridge, observed its army, and spewed unnatural fire from his toothy maw as he spoke to his soulless servants. Then, tensing his muscles, he threw his lumbering form into the smoky air and soared through the caverns. Revan felt her breath catch and her heart practically stop. He had felt her, but he had not spotted her. He was roaring not in admiration of his forces, but in indignation that she was so close and yet invisible to him amongst the mass of his darkspawn soldiers. She grinned wickedly at his outrage.

Rose looked up from the trenches and exchanged a frightened glance with Revan. However, the girl saw Revan's wicked grin, illuminated menacingly in the fires of the army, and suddenly she regained her composure. Seeing the Jedi so confident, even though she did not know why, reassured the noble of their abilities. Rose braced herself, and with purpose strode toward the bridge where they had seen the Archdemon land. The others were visibly shaken, but upon seeing their two leaders confidently leading the way, they followed. The brontos stayed behind, Morrigan tying them up. This was too dangerous for the beasts. Upon nearing the bridge, Rose and Revan saw a large force of darkspawn assaulting a smaller but formidable force composed of dwarves. Revan knew immediately that the dwarves were the famous, or for her infamous, Legion of the Dead. Her old revulsion encouraged her to slaughter the dwarves, but her new sensibilities urged her to rush to their aid. With a quick exchange of nods with Rose, the two rushed forward. The others were directly behind them. Revan ignited her lightsabers as she ran, while Rose drew her sword and covered her front with her shield. The two women fell upon the darkspawn with a fury. Rose knocked the first to the ground and lunged past to skewer another. Meanwhile, Revan cleaved two through the middle and immediately slid under the chop of another wielded by a burly hurlock. She and Rose slew five before the others joined the fray. As Revan pirouetted and dodged, she saw the Legion pause in shock, able at last to take a breather from the fighting. They fell back, finishing off any the party left alive by accident, but they were content to let the odd conglomeration slaughter the darkspawn. It was not difficult work, as there were no ogres to contend with. Revan was a hurricane of light, dancing like a ballerina as she lunged and slashed. Zevran ended up beside her, stabbing those she distracted in the back and cutting the throats of those that got too close. Alistair circled near Rose, his back to hers, forming a duo of bashing shields that slowly spun through the throng. Morrigan had transformed into an angry bronto and proceeded to accompany Shale in running over and trampling their enemies. Sten and Oghren and Duran, meanwhile, were standing their ground, preferring to let the darkspawn come to them. The three formed an impenetrable wall of flesh and steel. Finally, Rose chopped the head off of the last standing darkspawn, a genlock archer, and they had a moment's respite. The leader of the Legionnaires, a bald dwarf with pronounced tattoos and intricately plaited beard, approached them cautiously. He addressed Rose, who strode toward him confidently.

"Atrast vala, Grey Warden," the dwarf greeted her in the old speech. "I've never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads."

"And yet you don't sound surprised," Rose commented as she caught her breath. Revan noted she had not sheathed her blade.

"In the Legion of the Dead, we abandon our lives to be free of fear, free of hopeful blindness. The coming Blight is obvious to us," the Legionnaire spoke. "The surprise is not that you have come, but that you have come in so small a number. What do you want here, Warden?"

"I am Rose, and I am looking for allies," the young woman finally sheathed her sword.

"It's an odd tactic, recruiting from the frontline," the dwarf smiled without mirth. "The darkspawn pitch their camps in our tunnels between your 'Blights', you know. Give me a dwarven reason to look topside."

"Right now, it's not topside that concerns me," Rose corrected him. "I need to find Paragon Branka."

The bald dwarf raised a bushy eyebrow. "Who put this dull idea in your head? We've got other things to worry about in Orzammar…" The dwarf caught a glimpse of proud Duran, still in mismatched armor and still emaciated, but who still carried his head high. "Ah, now I see. The deep lords in the Assembly can't make up their minds, so the pretenders need added influence. I get that right?"

"Indeed," Duran spoke up. "You always were too sharp to end up in the Legion, Kardol."

"You have anything useful to add?" Rose crossed her arms expectantly. Dwarven politics were beginning to annoy her.

"Warden, you've got your work cut out for you. Paragon Branka is dead, everyone with sense knows it. Past our line, the darkspawn kill everything," Kardol spit.

Rose met him in the eye. "Then move your line."

Kardol barked a grim laugh. "I'd gladly lead an assault through the Dead Trenches, but without an ass in the throne, we have no orders. I won't take fool's gold from a pretender. You want to go digging blind, you go right ahead."

Rose and him exchanged glances, and finally each nodded to the other in respect. The Legionnaire recognized a true warrior when he saw one. He studiously ignored Revan, however. Rose asked him some questions, but it was apparent that Kardol knew little about Branka and even less about the Anvil. Revan was not surprised; ever since Bownammar had fallen seventeen years prior, the Legion of the Dead had been throwing dwarves at its impenetrable walls in a vain attempt to regain it. As such, there was always new blood in the Legion. Kardol looked seasoned, but he may have been seasoned from years in the Warrior Caste, not years in the Legion. Those in the Legion had shorter lifespans than those in the Warden ranks. The Jedi suspected he was newer blood. Kardol wished them luck and began setting up the line at the foot of the bridge. Rose turned to address her own people.

"We are about to plunge headfirst into the darkspawn horde," Rose announced without preamble. The others straightened automatically. Her voice was firm. "We have a task; without Orzammar's help, we stand no chance against the Archdemon. You all saw him; when he makes his move on the surface, we will need every ally. I don't ask you all to do this lightly. I don't know what we will find on the other side of that bridge. But I know that we have to cross it. This is your last chance to turn back. Many of you are here of your own free will, and I won't begrudge you if you leave." No one moved a muscle. In fact, everyone set their jaws firmly, resolute in their decision to stand with the Wardens. Even Duran, who had been wary of them all at first, stared at her determinedly. She commanded absolute loyalty. "Very well. Remember to keep your mouths shut and your weapons up. Keep your eyes and ears open. We press forward. Let's show these Legionnaires how to draw a line."

The men thumped their sword hands against their chests almost in unison, grinning madly at her challenge. Shale cracked an ugly impersonation of a smile. Only Morrigan, now back in human form, did not smile at the remark, and instead looked behind the Warden to the bridge crawling with darkspawn that stood ahead of them. As the others readied their weapons, the witch changed into a large eagle with impressively long talons. Revan nodded in acknowledgement to the shapeshifter, and ignited her own blades. The bridge was ancient and pockmarked with damage from eons of battles, and Revan was wary of its structural integrity. But they had little choice. Rose raised her sword to the cavernous ceiling, dedicating the battle to the Grey Wardens, and rushed forward. The others echoed her and began carving a slow path down the length of the bridge. Revan was near the front, partnered with Zevran. As she flew between targets, he danced around the edges. Sten and the dwarves carved a path down the middle with their heavy swings, as Rose and Alistair bashed their way ahead. It seemed that they were making good progress, until the shrieks appeared. They swarmed the golem, throwing it to its knees as they clambered onto its back. Shale tried to throw them off, but to no avail. Revan was too far away to cut her way to the golem, but luckily Morrigan saw and swooped down, diving and tearing through several shrieks. The deformed creatures hissed in pain as the eagle grabbed them in her razor talons and flung them over the side of the bridge. Zevran, small enough to dodge between enemies, weaved his way to Shale's side and proceeded to stab the darkspawn still clinging to the golem. Finally, Shale was able to stand and break free of their dogpile, shaking the rest off violently, either to be thrown over the precipice or to be trampled underneath the golem's massive weight.

Rose and Alistair cut ahead, but were stopped in their tracks by an emissary, a darkspawn who drew on the magic of the Blight. Alistair was able to use his Templar training to ward off its magical attacks, but he did not have the training to negate its magic completely. Revan saw and pressed forward, dodging the black-fletched arrows of the archers and the cruel iron blades of the infantry who thought that they could hack her to pieces. She felt her limbs growing heavier with each passing minute, her muscles fatigued from days of walking and days with little sleep, but the adrenaline kept her moving. Finally, she found herself by the other Wardens' side. With only a nod to Alistair and Rose, Revan circled to the left as Rose sidestepped to the right. The emissary, now confused which of the three targets it needed to attack, tried casting a spell over the entire area. Alistair braced, but Revan lashed out with her own magic, a bolt of lightning shooting from her outstretched hand. The emissary absorbed the energy at the last moment in its corrupted staff, but it had been interrupted. Rose leapt from behind, and with a lunge pierced the darkspawn in the back. The air crackled with energy, but the magic the emissary had cast dissipated.

Revan looked up, hoping that they were close to dispatching the last of the darkspawn, but was disappointed to see a line of darkspawn archers eagerly awaiting their advance with flaming arrows as they flanked a very large and very angry ogre. Its twisted black horns gleamed maliciously. As Oghren swung his battleax through one of the last remaining foot soldiers, the ogre roared, commanding the party's attention. It lowered its horns, preparing to charge the three Wardens. The archers drew their bowstrings. The three dove in different directions, Alistair just tucking past the ogre's heavy feet. The monstrosity was taller than even Shale, and as it flew past Revan she saw the saliva dripping from its black fangs. The whistle of arrows distracted her, however. Almost instinctually, Revan repelled the hail of arrows above the bridge with the Force. Her left leg gave out as she started to feel woozy, and she was forced to take a knee. However, her display had had the desired effect, and the arrows fell harmlessly to the ground. Rose had regained her footing, and was actively banging her sword on her shield as she sidestepped a semicircle around the ogre, confusing it and letting Sten, Oghren, and Duran get into position to surround it. Shale took point in front of it, and as it came to a halt and roared at the din Rose was creating, the golem grappled its massive horns and kept its head low with Shale's considerable weight. As the ogre's head twisted and turned, trying to shake the golem off, Sten and Oghren moved behind it and almost simultaneously slashed with their great weapons through the massive beast's leg tendons. Hamstrung, it fell to its knees. Alistair, now back on his feet, came in from the side and plunged his blade through the ogre's eye as Duran vaulted onto its back and stabbed it through the base of its skull. The huge monstrosity shuddered, then fell, Shale stepping back just in time so the ogre's heavy corpse did not crush the golem. The archers, meanwhile, knocked their arrows and sent another volley overhead. Revan deflected them yet again, stopping the arrows in midflight. Zevran and Morrigan moved away from the ogre and began harrying the archers, Zevran using his considerable skill at sneaking to take the archers from behind while Morrigan clawed out their eyes from above, flying off before being grabbed or before one could take out a dagger to stab at her. She even managed to break a few bows and tear out a few throats. The volleys became fewer and farther between, and soon it was just a few arrows that Revan easily batted away with her lightsabers. She managed to regain her feet, and the Jedi shakily made her way to the archers, dispatching the blind and the bowless with some effort.

At last, the bridge was cleared. The imposing gates of Bownammar, City of the Dead, loomed before them. Rose joined them as Morrigan shifted back into human form and Revan thrust a blade through the gaping maw of the last indignant darkspawn.

"Well, that went better than I'd hoped," Rose whispered conspiratorially to the Jedi.

Revan smiled and clapped her companion on the shoulder. "Do not celebrate just yet; this is but one section of Bownammar. Just wait until we are inside the gates."

Rose, to her credit, did not blanch, but grinned resolutely. She commanded that the party rest and check themselves for any injuries or rents in their armor or nicks in their weapons. She would not allow them to press forward unless they were fit to do so. Revan took the opportunity to eat something; she was shaking violently from the exertion. The lack of sleep, combined with the effort of using both magic and drawing on the Force in a place as dead as this, was exhausting. Zevran and Morrigan saw it too, and wordlessly saw to her armor and brought her victuals. Morrigan even redid her braid, which had started to escape from its bindings.

Eventually, Kardol and his dwarves found their way across the bridge, carefully picking their way between the strewn bodies of the darkspawn. Kardol even looked impressed.

"Well, Grey Warden, I'll give you credit for backbone. You've dug a line through the spawn," he nodded in approval, surveying the carnage. "Still no sense in your head, but you've got skill."

Rose smiled, drew her sword, and scratched a line in the stone. "You have no orders, Kardol? Here are your new orders, from me: hold this line instead. We'll keep making them, you just try to guard our backs."

Kardol clucked his tongue. "You're sodding crazy, but all right, Warden. We'll hold the lines you make. Try not to die out there."