Janeka moved to block their path as the rest of her unit of Wardens moved to array themselves behind her.
"Hand over Hawke, and I'll give you a quick death," she promised them. Anders felt his lip curl in a snarl; from the faint growl that came from Fenris, he suspected the elf's expression mirrored his own. Carver stepped protectively forward in front of his brother even as Larius straightened and took a step towards Janeka.
"Hawke has already made his choice," Larius growled. "The right one."
"The right choice... or the only one?" she replied, raising an eyebrow. "Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree."
"It is the past; it doesn't matter!" snapped back the old commander. Hawke eyed him curiously.
"Larius, what does Janeka mean by 'not allowed'?" he asked quietly.
"How does she know this?" asked Larius, perplexed. "Alec, did you tell her?" he snapped, glaring at the silver-haired warrior behind Janeka to her left, who looked abashed. "Malcolm Hawke was reluctant, had to be … persuaded. I was Warden-Commander. It was my duty," explained Larius as he limped over to the side of the stone bridge and stared off into the distance. "I delivered an ultimatum," he said softly, turning to stare at Hawke. "Help us, or you'll never see her again."
"Andraste's tits!" swore Carver. "You did what?"
"You were going to kill our mother?" growled Hawke.
"No – never!" cried Larius, limping towards Hawke. "He came with us. I never had to decide her fate. She was never told about what happened between Malcolm and I."
"That doesn't excuse it!" cried Carver.
"You see, Hawke," interjected Janeka. "How can you trust anything Larius says?"
"Larius' threats were reprehensible...but he's still right about Corypheus," replied Hawke steadily.
Janeka glared at him. "You can come willingly or not, Hawke," she replied, one hand straying towards the staff slung on her back; Anders found himself automatically mimicking her movements, his own staff coming readily to hand as he gathered his mana, a spell already upon his lips even as Janeka's hand began to gesture. "I just need your blood!" she stated flatly as the other Wardens drew their weapons.
The two mages cast their spells simultaneously, Janeka's fireball screaming towards them only to burst harmlessly over the shield Anders threw up before them; he dropped it a moment later to follow through with an ice blast as Fenris and Carver sprang forward to join the Wardens in hand-to-hand combat.
Larius made straight for Janeka; as Anders held her imprisoned with his power, Larius tore into her; she fell before his onslaught with a terrified scream. Anders glanced away as her scream tailed off into wet choking sounds then fell silent. He let the spell go; Janeka would never move again. He felt little sympathy for her; she had dallied with blood magic. Indeed, she had probably gotten off lightly. Shaking his head, he followed Hawke into the main chamber where the other Wardens had swiftly fallen to Varric's crossbow and the combined might of Carver and Fenris. Fenris was wiping blood from his greatsword with a rag as they entered.
"Are you alright?" he asked Anders quietly as the mage crossed to stand next to him.
"The blood mage is dead," he replied flatly.
"Well...good?" replied Fenris hesitantly. Anders glanced at him, then looked away with a single nod.
"Yes," he replied simply. Suddenly they all staggered as the floor of the chamber seemed to lurch beneath them, the torches surrounding the seal suddenly blazing into brilliant life.
"He stirs!" cried Larius, a note of urgency in his cracked voice. "Slay him now, before he wakes – before his strength comes!"
Anders reeled as Corypheus' voice seemed to fill his head, louder and more insistent than ever before. "The key... must bring... the key..." he moaned, clutching at his head. He was dimly aware of Fenris' hands clutching his shoulders, pressing the smooth cold rim of a lyrium bottle against his lips.
"No... you're not my father... I won't listen!" cried Anders angrily. Fenris forced the neck of the bottle past his teeth and tipped the contents into Anders' mouth. Anders gulped it down convulsively, shuddering at the thick, cloying, bittersweet taste. He could feel the instant rush of power within his slender frame even as Fenris activated his own powers, lighting up from head to toe, the lyrium within and without singing powerfully to Anders until he could feel a bone-deep resonance that held him in greater thrall than any demon's voice could.
His eyes as they opened were clear and hard as he stared at the seal. He could feel the lyrium burning in his veins and a faint tremor in his hands. "That was possibly not a good idea," he murmured to Fenris. He lifted a hand and stared; he could practically see the magic dancing across the surface of his skin. He could feel it racing through his veins, quickfire, insistent, demanding release, his heart surging and racing.
"The key, Hawke," said Larius. "It's not strong enough. Use your blood. Free him and slay him!"
Hawke nodded, looking round at the alcoves off the main chamber. Anders stepped closer and pointed to the strange, flaming disk-like points of energy grasped in the claws of each griffon statue. "Those look like the bind points of the demons in the rooms in the outer keep we dealt with earlier," he suggested.
Hawke nodded. "You're right. I guess we deal with those first?" He made his way to the first griffon; drawing Malcolm's sword, he struck the glowing nimbus of energy with the blade. It dissipated with a sharp crack and the faint tang of ozone in the air.
"That seems to have weakened the spell," remarked Carver as the torches around the seal flickered, wavering. Hawke nodded.
"One down, three to go," he replied, making his way to the next griffon. He destroyed the binding point there the same way as the first.
"I suppose he won't stop coming after us unless we do this," remarked Carver as they approached the third griffon. Hawke paused and raised an eyebrow at his brother.
"Hell of a time to be having second thoughts, Carver," he replied.
"Wait... look!" said Anders, his eyes drawn to the glowing trail of light that was snaking back from the first griffon statue towards the seal. As they watched, it faded, a second trail of light that snaked from the second griffon also began to fade. They glanced at each other.
"Anders? What do you think – you're the mage here?" asked Hawke.
Anders shook his head. "This is... this is nothing like anything they taught us in the Circle. This is blood magic – but it's also something older. At a guess, I'd say each of the binding seals is giving up its energies back to the main seal." He shrugged. "I'm sorry; I'm out of my depth here. I'm a healer."
"So...?" said Carver, his voice trailing off expectantly.
"We keep going," decided Hawke, striding towards the third binding seal. As Hawke struck it with Malcolm's sword, Varric glanced around.
"You feel that?" he said uneasily. "It's like... something is lifting." As Hawke made his way to the fourth and last binding seal, the dwarf added, "Last chance to change your mind!"
"Just be careful, brother," warned Carver as they gathered by the fourth griffon. Hawke stared at the last binding seal for a moment, then swung the blade.
The last beam of golden light faded, swirling briefly like a cloud of glowing amber smoke before dying away. The companions stared at each other, then as one turned and made their way back towards the seal. Anders was muttering quietly under his breath, shaking his head briefly, one hand to his forehead.
"Anders?" asked Hawke quietly.
"This close, I can hear him even through the lyrium," he said softly. "He's so close to waking. I can feel him."
"Are you ready?" asked Hawke, hefting the sword in his hand. Anders nodded.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
Fenris moved to stand just behind and slightly to one side of the mage; he rested a taloned hand on a feathered pauldron, his grip reassuring and firm through the leather and feathers. Anders knew how much the elf usually abhorred physical contact; the touch meant a great deal to him,
"Let's get this over with," said Anders tersely.
Hawke nodded, and approached the final seal. He held out Malcolm's sword and closed his left hand about the blade.
Anders wanted to cry out, to stop him; every fibre of his being cried out that this was wrong, to stop Hawke shedding his blood for this magic. But he held himself in check. Hawke's father had performed the blood magic ritual that bound Corypheus; only Hawke's blood could undo it.
Hawke cut his hand with a brief, swift movement of the blade, then held his hand out over the centre of the seal. Glistening drops of crimson blood dropped to splatter against the stone.
For a moment nothing seemed to happen.
And then the blood fizzed and boiled before exploding outwards into a glowing ball of light, the energies rising up into a bright beam of light. Hawke surrendered the sword into the light and it slowly rotated until it hung there in mid-air, point uppermost. Hawke backed away slowly.
And then the light abruptly exploded outwards, hurling both Hawke and the sword from the dais. The companions all took a step backwards as a tall, wizened figure slowly rose into view. It was clad in long dark robes that looked like some arcane and ancient Tevinter design, and the long bony arms that wrapped about the torso of the being ended in long, curved hands with nails like claws. As the being turned slowly to face them, they could see that it seemed almost half-melded with fragments of rock.
Anders gasped when he saw the face. The eyes were not golden, and instead of hair the creature's head seemed to be partially fused to a helmet of rock. But the face... it was the face from his dreams.
And the voice...
"Be this some dream I wake from?" Corypheus said slowly. "Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?"
Anders felt something drawing him forwards; the singing in his mind seemed impossibly loud, each word spoken by Corypheus ringing and echoing in his mind like a peal of golden bells. A faint, wordless cry escaped his lips, but Corypheus appeared not to hear him. He took a step forward, but Fenris' hand closed tightly upon his shoulder like a vice, the razor-sharp claws of his gauntlets piercing the leather and sinking into his flesh, the pain serving to ground him somewhat.
Corypheus stared down at the companions. "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the first acolyte!"
Anders' eyes widened. "Dumat … was the first Old God to become an Archdemon," he breathed. "There haven't been temples to him since ancient Tevinter."
"You look human," remarked Corypheus, his tone curious as he stared at Anders and Hawke. "Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves, then, to the dwarves? Why come you here?" His tone changed, becoming less confused, darker and now taking on a tone of command. "Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!"
"I will not bow the knee to any magister," growled Fenris, baring his teeth.
"You're a darkspawn," said Hawke. "Dark...spawn. Ravaging the Deep Roads, spreading the Blight. Sound familiar to you?"
Anders groaned. "That's it, just antagonise the ridiculously powerful... whatever it is, Hawke."
Corypheus glared at Hawke with a dawning comprehension. "You... are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He turned away, walking slowly around the dais as he stared upwards, arms raised in supplication. "Dumat!" he called. "Lord! Tell me, what waking dream is this?"
He lowered his hands, seeming to speak to himself. "The light. We sought the golden light. You offered... the power of the Gods themselves." He turned and walked slowly across the dais. "But it was... black. Corrupt. Darkness...ever since." He turned and stared at Anders, who found himself drawn forward a step in spite of himself. "How long?" asked Corypheus.
"The Golden City," said Larius in hushed tones. "The first violation. The magisters who brought the Blight."
Pulling himself back again, Anders turned and frowned at Larius. "That's ridiculous!" he scoffed. "There were no magical bogeymen who trespassed in the Maker's city. It's just a story!" He shook his head. "It's Chantry propaganda."
"Well... where do you think darkspawn came from?" asked Hawke, curious.
"Some creation of the Old Gods, no doubt," replied Anders acerbically.
"Dumat," said Corypheus quietly, seemingly oblivious to their presence as he gestured to the night sky. "Have you forsaken me? I am your faithful servant..."
Anders stared at him before turning back to Hawke. "The darkspawn aren't just some conveniently explicit lesson on the dangers of magic," he said.
Hawke shrugged. "Unless Corypheus is for real, everyone who knows what happened is long dead," he replied.
"You don't think it's a little... 'convenient'?" asked Anders, raising an eyebrow. "What does every sane man and woman in Thedas fear? The Blights. Why not pin those on mages too?"
"Here we go again," muttered Carver. Fenris remained uncharacteristically silent. Varric nudged him in the hip; he glanced down at the dwarf, frowning in question.
"Cat got your tongue, elf?" he asked quietly.
"I have nothing to say," replied Fenris calmly. "The mage already knows my feelings on the matter. I see no reason to antagonise him further – particularly when he is already... off-kilter."
Varric frowned, then stared harder at the mage. Now the elf came to mention it, there did seem to be something not entirely right with the mage. He was restless on his feet, hands twitching; as he watched, a bead of sweat rolled slowly down the side of Anders' face, and there was something desperate in his eyes though his tone was one of exasperation.
"What manner of speech is this?" asked Corypheus curiously. "How long have I slumbered?"
"He tainted the world..." breathed Larius. "He speaks to all who carry the corruption. Darkspawn, Wardens. He brought Janeka here. Brought you..."
"If he's been calling the Wardens to free him, what's his plan?" wondered Hawke. "He seems confused."
"He slept," replied Larius. "While the seals held, he could not wake. He knows nothing of time that passed."
Anders turned and glanced up at Corypheus. Yes, confused. He could see it in the creature's eyes. He had spent centuries asleep; their clothing and speech must have seemed very strange and alien to him. He imagined how he might feel under similar circumstances. He took another step closer, halted only by Fenris' hand tightening further upon his shoulder. He stared up at Corypheus, paying no heed to the sharp pain in his flesh or the sensation of rivulets of blood slowly trickling down his arm from Fenris' claws. He only had eyes for Corypheus; he felt a deep sadness for the being. He could not help but feel sympathy for his plight.
Do not be fooled! He is the greatest danger we have ever faced! He reeled as Justice suddenly leapt upon the offensive, biting his lip as he staggered under the sudden, unexpected onslaught. He could feel the spirit raising his energies and power, ready to strike, and only managed to fight him down with an effort of will.
"We must kill him now, before he comes to," said Larius firmly.
"You really think he's one of the original magisters?" asked Hawke disbelievingly. "That he's been to the Black City?"
"The city!" cried Corypheus. "It was supposed to be golden! It was supposed to be ours!" Spreading his taloned hands wide, he rose up into the air. "If I cannot leave with you, I shall leave through you!" he cried. "I seek the light!"
Larius abruptly turned and ran; Hawke spared him only a brief glance before turning back to stare at Corypheus, readying his blade.
"I made your sacrifices, Lord," growled Corypheus as he glared at them and gestured. "Strengthen me now!" Anders gasped as he felt Corypheus pooling magic in his hands, preparing to cast a spell; he'd never felt such a concentration of magic in one place before or wielded by only one person alone.
Fenris' face contorted as he felt his lyrium brands react to the call of the magic; he flickered into incorporeality without thinking, responding to the magic on a purely instinctive level as his lip curled in a snarl.
Corypheus began to float towards Anders, and the mage backed away, a look of terror on his face as he called upon his own magic. He tried to encase the magister in ice, but Corypheus disregarded it, breaking free as though the ice were merely water. He threw a lightning blast and then a fireball at Corypheus with growing desperation as neither spell appeared to have any effect on the magister. Then Corypheus gestured at him casually, almost dismissively, and Anders screamed as he was engulfed in brilliant blue-white fire. He staggered backwards and collapsed to the floor.
"Healer down!" yelled Varric as he moved into position with Bianca and unleashed a rain of bolts at Corypheus.
"Why do they always go for the healer?" groaned Carver as he ran towards Corypheus, brandishing his sword, Hawke at his side. Fenris was already streaking straight for the magister, a terrifying look upon his face.
Anders managed to pull himself up onto his elbow as as Corypheus was distracted by the attack; it was enough to let him channel a little much-needed healing into himself. He rolled over onto his feet, flourishing his staff before ramming it down into the ground and calling down lightning upon Corypheus' head.
"Dumat! Grant me your power!" roared Corypheus, and streams of golden energy raced towards his outstretched hands from the griffon statues upon the balconied alcoves. He glared around at the companions as they spread out and scattered. "You cannot avoid my fires!" he roared as he unleashed roaring blasts of flame from his hands, fanning them out around him.
"What the..." exclaimed Hawke, then dove for the shelter of the nearest balcony. "Move!" he ordered the others. He paused before the griffon statue; a glowing pillar of green fire hovered where the binding shields had glowed before.
"Hey, didn't you destroy these things already?" exclaimed Varric. Hawke shrugged and began to slash at the green light until it abruptly detonated in a shower of bright actinic green sparks.
"Come on!" he yelled as he sprinted for the next one, trying to keep ahead of the fans of flames. He heard yells from behind him.
"Hawke – Shades!" yelled Anders as he desperately tried to fend one off. Rolling his eyes, Hawke sprinted back to join the fray. There were two Shades, and they made quick work of them between the five of them.
"Come on!" commanded Hawke as he made for the next alcove.
"Watch out" cried Anders as Corypheus suddenly appeared between Hawke and the rest of the party.
"Burn, you miserable insects!" sneered the magister as he unleashed a stream of fireballs towards the party; Anders returned fire, alternating between fireballs and bursts of pure spirit energy. Hawke was unsurprised to see Anders' eyes blazing with a fierce blue-white flame; it seemed he had decided to willingly tap into Justice for some extra firepower.
Maybe they had a chance after all.
"The energy – he absorbs it from the statues," Anders called to Hawke, his light tenor voice underlaid by the deep bass of Justice. Hawke nodded and sprinted for the next statue. Behind him he could hear the sounds of battle continuing.
"You will die before you touch me, worms!" sneered Corypheus as he unleashed more fire directly towards Fenris; Anders pushed the elf out of the way and only barely managed to throw up a shield in time.
"The statues – they're the key, Hawke!" yelled the mage as he alternated between throwing up shields to protect himself and the others from the worst of the flames and casting a stream of healing and revival spells to keep them on their feet. He was glad now that Fenris had forced the lyrium upon him earlier.
Hawke reached the next statue and slashed at the glowing green energies until they detonated and dissipated before turning to engage the two shades that appeared.
"Perhaps a little something more!" cackled Corypheus, rising higher into the air.
"Uh oh. Fun part," muttered Carver.
"Remind me to have a little word with you later about your definition of 'fun', kiddo!" exclaimed Varric.
"I think-" began Anders, but got no further as he was suddenly struck in the chest by a bolt of lightning. He dropped without a word, all the breath knocked out of his body by the force of the blast.
"Healer down!" roared Varric as Fenris sprinted over to Anders' side. "Again," he added. Anders was blinking dazedly and twitching slightly as Fenris uncorked a healing potion and forced the neck between the disorientated mage's teeth. Anders drank the potion then shuddered before pushing himself up off the floor.
"That was unpleasant," he remarked. "Let's not try that one again, shall we?"
"Incoming!" warned Carver as Corypheus unleashed another blast of lightning at them.
"Feel the chill!" called Corypheus a the energy in his hands took on a bluer tone. "You cannot outrun it!" He unleashed a blast of icy cold energy at them.
Anders glared at him, twirled his staff with an unnecessary flourish then pointed it at Corypheus as he channeled his magic. "Go suck on a fireball!" he yelled as he blasted it at the magister.
"Look out for the ice!" called Fenris.
"Look out for the bloody rocks, too," observed Carter as large, sharp stalagmites suddenly began erupting from the floor.
"That's it," yelled Varric. "If he pulls a bloody dragon out of his ass I'm leaving!"
"A dragon might make a welcome change," replied Anders as he counteracted Corypheus' fire blast with a wall of ice, followed up by a fireball as the magister switched to an ice blast just before Fenris phased in directly behind the magister and swung his greatsword. Corypheus seemed to sense him somehow and vanished only to reappear on the far side of the chamber.
They were all growing weary. The need to keep up a constant stream of offensive and defensive spells plus heal the others and keep them on their feet was taking its toll upon him. He was running dangerously close to empty right now. He watched Hawke sprinting to the next griffon statue and briefly mouthed a prayer to the Maker that Hawke would make it before Corypheus could wipe them all out. He wasn't sure he could survive another direct hit.
Hawke lashed out with his blade at the last power source, and abruptly the golden streams of power that had been pouring into Corypheus drained away into nothing. The magister howled in alarm as he felt his source of power disappear. He redoubled his efforts, but the companions had the scent of his fear now and closed upon him mercilessly as Hawke threw himself into the fray.
Anders dropped back and sank everything he had into concentrating on healing the others. He could feel he had reached the limit of his reserves of magic; he still had one trick up his sleeve however – one that few spirit healers dared try, let alone seek to master.
He called upon his own bodily strength and energy, channelling it directly into healing. As fast as Corypheus could deal damage, Anders had them back upon their feet again. He knew he would pay heavily for this after it was all over, but for now all that mattered was taking Corypheus down and keeping his friends alive.
Then Hawke got close enough to deliver a lethal killing blow with his sword, opening Corypheus up from hip to sternum, slashing back down the other way and nearly severing the magister's head.
Just like that, it was all over.