"'You who must serve beneath the empty sky, you stand between this Poison and the Stone. The Ancestors will remember when all others have forgotten your name. Remember your oath; it must endure beyond death itself.'" Anders' voice fell silent as he shivered slightly, his hands tightening upon his staff. "'Be vigilant. If the Pestilent One awakens, you will know it by these signs: The air will fill with the scent of putrefaction. You will hear a sound like the cadence of drums. Malvernis the Defiler will try to weaken your will and compel you to bear the orb out of Amgeforn, but you must hold fast. This is the sacred duty which cannot be foresworn lest the Stone fall to poison and death.' Well, that's a cheering little message," he added, stepping back from the stone plaque.
"But what does it mean?" asked Carver.
"Nothing good, I'll wager," replied Hawke.
"Amgeforn... that's Dwarven for 'sacrifice'," said Varric slowly. "That's... not a reassuring name."
"We never go any place nice, do we?" remarked Hawke, staring down at the triangular stone plinth with a shrug.
Anders turned away from the stone, glancing up at the sky as they started to head away from the Carta encampment towards the keep itself. The afternoon sun slanted down peacefully through crumbling turrets and cracks in the stone walls, yet he felt anything but peaceful as he fell into step behind Hawke. He pressed his fingers against his forehead; he could feel the start of a headache throbbing in time to his heartbeat behind his eyes.
"Mage?"
"Nothing. Don't fuss over me, elf," muttered Anders. Fenris frowned, then moved on ahead to scout around.
"'We called it Malvernis'" read Varric. "'The Pestilent One. It devoured thaigs, turning our fairest work into a noxious waste. It consumed living warriors, turning their bodies to slime, and when its hunger was not abated it turned to the bones of our ancestors.'"
Anders leaned over the dwarf's shoulder. "It says here that they bound it in lyrium with the blood of a hundred warriors," he said incredulously.
"They sound like the worst kind of magisters," observed Fenris bitterly. "It is ever the way with magic; they disturbed something best left untouched, and others had to die for their hubris."
"You don't know that!" objected Anders. Fenris raised an eyebrow at the mage.
"Not all mages are as altruistic as you would have us believe, mage," he replied acerbically. "For every one who heals, there are a thousand more that would harm."
Anders frowned at him, but rather than argue he turned and stalked away.
"Point to you, elf," remarked Carver.
"Shut up, Carver," replied Hawke over his shoulder as he took the mage's place beside the dwarf. "'We carried it here to the wasteland of the surface-' carried what, I wonder?"
Varric shrugged. "Nothing good, is my guess," he replied, shouldering Bianca as he turned to follow Anders. "Hey, Blondie, wait up!"
He broke into a jog to catch up to the longer-legged apostate as they reached a stone entryway. Anders was about to take a step forward when Varric suddenly grabbed his belt, holding him back. Anders froze, one foot in mid-air.
"Whoa, Blondie," Varric warned, jerking his chin at tell-tale cracks through the dust in the floor. The others crowded round behind them.
"A trap?" asked Carver.
"Everyone stay still and try not to make any loud noises," warned Varric as he set to work disarming the trap. Anders kept still as Varric did something down by his hovering foot that caused a soft 'click-snickt' sound.
"OK, you can relax now," said Varric straightening up.
"Did I just nearly lose my foot?" asked Anders as he lowered his foot cautiously.
"More like your head," replied Varric, indicating a large blade poised on a lever at Anders' head-height. Anders nodded and carefully ducked around the blade; it was old and rusty, but he still wouldn't have liked to take his chances with it. "Crude, but effective," remarked Varric.
"I wonder where the rest of the Carta are," mused Carver. "That can't have been all of them, surely?"
"You and your big mouth," muttered Hawke as a Carta arrow ricocheted off the stone wall near his head. "Come on!"
It was a short, but bloody fight. The Carta warriors were little more than armed thugs, and between them the companions made short work of them before making their way down through the inner ramparts of the outer keep. Carver glanced around the inside architecture of the fortress and groaned, recognising the tell-tale signs about them as they stared down into the massive chasm, the inner keep rising up tall and proud in the centre.
"The Deep Roads again. Like I don't get enough of that every day." He leaned over the edge of the rampart, staring down. "There's something to be said for a Blight," he mused. "Everything comes up where you can see it. And kill it."
Anders gave him an incredulous look, as though he couldn't believe the words had actually come out of the Warden's mouth. Shaking his head, he turned away to follow Hawke deeper into the fortress, Varric at his side.
They had descended lower into the depths of the fortress, before they began to run into serious opposition from the Carta forces. The late afternoon sun beamed hazily down through cracks in the stone, making isolated pools of golden light here and there. Looking round the massive stone structure of the walls and the oppressive mass of rock over their heads, Anders paused and leaned on his staff, one foot resting against the corpse of the dwarf he'd just wrested it out of.
"Hawke," he said conversationally, playing with a stray loose thread on his sleeve. "Have you ever considered joining the Grey Wardens? They'd be happy to satisfy this inexplicable urge you have to visit the Deep Roads every few years."
Hawke laughed. "Don't you think one Hawke in the Wardens is bad enough?"
"True," mused Anders. He stared down at the blood stains on the blade of his staff and grimaced a little, then reflected that he probably ought to be glad it weren't darkspawn they were fighting. Slinging his staff onto his back as he followed the others, he frowned. He thought he heard something.
"Does anyone else hear drumming?" he asked as they made their way down a narrow staircase to a lower level. Varric glanced back at him quizzically and shrugged. Anders glanced at the others; evidently they hadn't heard anything either. He rubbed his temple. That scratching feeling was still there, faint yet insistent – but they were descending into the Deep Roads, and darkspawn were bound to be around here somewhere. He shook his head, trying to shake off the unnerving feeling. "Just Deep Road jitters," he told himself. He could feel Justice stirring restlessly in the back of his mind; whatever it was, Justice could sense it too, which didn't make him feel any happier.
Inwardly Anders groaned as yet another dwarf ran towards them, babbling something about "the Hawke's blood" and a master, but to everyone's surprise Varric pushed forward.
"Gerav?"
"V-Varric? No-one told me you would be a part of this!" exclaimed the dwarf. "We were just going after the Hawke!" His milky-white eyes widened in surprise.
"Really, Gerav?" said Varric in disgust. "I thought better of you than this. I mean, gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, sure, that's the game. But what are you all even doing here? Worshipping demons? Not exactly a healthy career move!"
"We drink the darkspawn blood," replied Gerav, shaking his head almost apologetically. Anders drew in his breath with a faint hiss; his eyes sought those of Carver who glanced around to him. Anders' eyes widened briefly and Carver nodded, signalling his own amazement at the dwarf's words. Anders' gaze flickered briefly sideways to the oblivious Hawke and he silently put his forefinger to his lips. Carver's eyes narrowed as he glanced to his brother, then back to Anders with a questioning look. Anders shook his head, his eyes pleading. Carver nodded once, slowly, and turned away, and Anders sighed silently, his shoulders slumping, unaware of Fenris' sharp green eyes glittering in the dark, observing all..
Oblivious to the silent exchange behind their backs, Varric and Hawke squared up before Gerav, who was still trying to explain himself. "He calls to us," the dwarf said, gesturing to his own head.
"But why would you do that?" exclaimed Hawke. "Wouldn't you just... die?"
"It's the only way to hear the music," said Gerav sadly, his blind-seeming eyes holding Hawke's gaze briefly before flicking over to Varric.
"Oh come on, you nug-licker; snap out of it!" growled Varric in disbelieving tones. "There's no gold in hallucinating."
"Varric, are you going to introduce us to your lunatic friend?" asked Hawke, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.
Varric sighed. "Hawke, this is Gerav. He's a greedy, brilliant, son-of-a-nug from the Carta – or was, anyhow," he added, glancing back at Gerav. "Gerav, this is Hawke, the one whose blood you want to drink or bathe in or whatever. But, if you're after eternal youth, I've got to tell you – he's no virgin."
"I'll attest to that," murmured Anders.
"Please don't," replied Carver.
"The Master is calling," insisted Gerav, gesturing. "He needs the blood!"
"Gerav... buddy...this isn't like you," said Varric sadly, shaking his head. He unslung Bianca from his back in one smooth motion. "Look, I've still got Bianca," he added. "Never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"
Anders silently unslung his staff as Carver and Fenris laid their hands on their swords. Hawke glanced down at Varric, frowning.
"Varric, do you want to spare this bastard?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Varric shook his head.
"Not if he's after you, Hawke," replied Varric. "You picked the wrong side, Gerav."
Anders unleashed an ice blast at the exact same moment that Bianca fired, and the two brothers surged forward, blades swinging as one. Anders was aware of the elf flickering out of view, darting off to reappear behind a pair of dwarves. The greatsword swung, and two heads rolled on the floor; the elf was gone again before the bodies could follow.
Anders concentrated on placing his spells carefully, picking off Carta thugs whilst leaving his friends unharmed. He saw Hawke stagger back and put a hand to his head, torchlight glinting off fresh blood. He leapt forward, a hand outstretched, outlined with the blue nimbus of healing energies even as he pressed his palm against Hawke's back, willing the magic past the armour to channel it into the warrior's body, healing him even as Hawke raised his blade to parry a blow.
Abruptly Varric shoved him aside out of the path of another Carta blade before swinging Bianca round into position and firing her directly into the face of the unfortunate thug who crumpled immediately. "Watch your back, Blondie!" he shouted admonishingly before turning to pick another target.
Anders shook his head to dispel the throbbing in his skull; that drumming sound was getting louder. Crouching on one knee, he aimed his staff at another dwarf and fried him with a well-timed fireball.
"I hate the bloody Deep Roads," he muttered to no-one in particular as he levered himself back up to his feet. "Oh, do piss off," he added, ramming the blade of his staff into the guts of another would-be attacker before twisting it then flicking it to the side, disembowelling the hapless creature.
He sighed, and thought longingly of his bed back at the Hawke estate.