XI: A Way In
Nightfall descended the village of Redcliffe quickly. Logan and Alistair went through last-minute discussions with Murdock before allowing the chief to prepare the militia. The mage Warden noticed that everyone—even the Cousland siblings—seemed to be on edge the moment the sun went down, and guessed that it had been because of attacks prior to their arrival in the morning. It made Logan slightly uncomfortable, for he knew that things could have been different had he sped up the speed at which they were traveling, but there was no point in dwelling on such feelings, though they left him rather restless. Despite that, there was an electrifying air of anticipation surrounding the militiamen tonight as Murdock rallied his men to give one final speech.
Logan remained behind with Alistair and the rest as the village chief spoke to his men. They had settled it—Logan, Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan would be the ones to follow Ser Perth up to the windmill to hold a defensive position, while the rest remained outside the chantry in case anything unexpected happened. Logan had also specifically told Bethany to keep an eye out for the men—especially Murdock, who seemed to be their main source of motivation—and concentrate on being a healer, so that they would be able to minimize casualties for the night. What else these demons had in mind, Logan could never guess, so it was far better to stay safe than sorry.
"…tonight we fight for the Arl!" Already, Logan could hear the inspired cry from Murdock, followed by several cries from the militia in unison. He glanced at the Cousland twins, who both held faces of steely determination. Wondering why they had such an unusually strong allegiance to the Arl of Redcliffe, he made a mental note to ask them about how they ended up here instead of staying in Highever after the fight was over.
"Well, this is it," Logan began, inhaling deeply and preparing himself mentally for the inevitable. He had never been a part of such a serious operation before—there were no such opportunities in the Circle—and it made him feel a little unsettled as he looked at his traveling companions, wondering if they had done such things before. Of course they would have, he thought to himself, they were never imprisoned in the Circle Tower like he had been with Garrett and Bethany. "I suppose if we are to stop the Blight, we'll have to take small steps like these. We have to save the Arl no matter what—Maker only knows if he's being taken care of in the castle or left in a corner to rot," he continued, tugging at his gloves, "We need the army of Redcliffe to march with the Grey Wardens."
Alistair nodded. "We might also want to find this blood mage, if he exists," he said, "Teagan might have been mistaken, but I'm not willing to take any chances. A blood mage running loose around Ferelden might cause more trouble than we would expect."
"If we find him, he might be useful to us," Morrigan pointed out, "I am sure that, with the right words, even a rogue mage can be swayed to join your cause."
"I will not just spare a blood mage because he offers to take our side," Alistair growled, "Whether we have his help or not, he is still a blood mage. And blood mages are dangerous—of that I have no doubt." He looked to Logan. "You will do the right thing, I take it?"
Logan inclined his head. "We'll see," he said simply, much to Alistair's surprise and Morrigan's satisfaction.
"At least someone knows how to think," Morrigan drawled, conveniently taking a dig at Alistair. The Warden groaned and offered to check on Ser Perth and his men ahead of them first, though Logan knew that it was an excuse for Alistair to stay away from the witch. Morrigan and Alistair had been at odds with each other ever since the Korcari Wilds, so it wasn't much of a surprise that Morrigan seemed slightly pleased at the man's temporary absence.
"You know, you're going to have to get used to him," Garrett said, grinning, "I mean, you're a part of this as much as we are."
"'Tis a fact I acknowledge," Morrigan said, "I am no fool. It just seems to appear that Alistair and I have no intention of ceasing this admittedly useless bickering." The witch smiled slyly. "I happen to enjoy offending him in the most harmless way possible."
"Most harmless?" repeated Leliana, "You mean you could do worse?"
Morrigan laughed. "But of course—I only withhold such… methods because he is of a great importance to Ferelden, being one of the last few Grey Wardens. That is the only credit I will give him," she said. Logan knew she was relieved that Alistair wasn't here to hear her say that—he would probably soften somehow knowing that Morrigan, despite her cold and snappy exterior, did appreciate his presence after all, even though it was only out of pure practicality rather than sentimentality.
"You humans spend too much time talking about matters that are not important," the Qunari growled, "We must do battle with these vile creatures and save your human leader—if this contributes to the effort against the Blight."
"If?" echoed Logan, "You mean you wouldn't do anything about this if Arl Eamon couldn't help us against the Blight?"
Sten shook his head. "No, I wouldn't."
"Isn't that a little harsh?" Bethany looked to the usually silent warrior curiously. "You would leave people to die if they're of no use to you?"
"That is not what I said," Sten replied gruffly, "There is a Blight that is coming for us—surely Grey Wardens would know how to prioritize. I expected better of you. I have heard so much from Par Vollen about the Grey Wardens being a sophisticated order of brilliant fighters and strategists—or are those tales only true of the Wardens in Weisshaupt Fortress?"
Logan nearly scowled. "You're not being very fair to any of us here, considering how we were just recruited," he retorted angrily, "What were you expecting, Sten? Were you expecting mighty men and women riding griffons, charging into battle fearlessly?"
"Yes, and it can be safe to say that I am most disappointed at this discovery that you are none of those," Sten glowered at Logan, who held a glare that was almost measurable to his own. It was admirable of a mage—almost.
"We are not war veterans," Logan said darkly, "We are here to do what we must because we are Grey Wardens. If you think that we do not fit the standards of the Wardens in Weisshaupt, then make yourself useful and make sure we emerge victorious tonight instead of making things worse. The Qunari have honor, do they not? I highly doubt they would resort to such means of provocation."
The Qunari, almost instantly, fell silent again. This time, however, he did not speak not because he could not be bothered with this ragtag band of mediocre fighters and four Grey Wardens, but because he began to see the Amell's true potential. Sten turned away and faced the villagers who were by now taking their positions. "They are moving. We should too."
Logan tore his glare away reluctantly and motioned to Leliana and Morrigan to follow him. He looked to the rest and tried to smile, but he knew he couldn't fool them. "We'll see you in a bit," he said almost indignantly, glancing at Sten before looking back at Garrett, "Don't die on me just yet, you hear me?"
Garrett smirked. "Tell me how many you kill up there."
It wasn't until a strange fog descended upon Redcliffe that Logan realized that these adversaries were probably more dangerous than darkspawn. He had learnt much about the Fade and its dangerous spirits and demons—he just never had the chance to see them with his own eyes. His insides rattled with fear as he stood amongst the militia and next to Alistair, watching carefully as everything around them got hazier and hazier as the seconds passed. He gripped his staff tightly, feeling an uncomfortable feeling creep up upon him as he paced back and forth slowly, being unable to stay still because of the apprehension that was building inside him and in everyone else.
Leliana was perched on the second level of the windmill, holding her bow and arrow and keeping an eye out for the enemy. Morrigan had stationed herself safely out of the way of danger, but despite her insistence, Logan chose to charge ahead into the fray with Alistair and Ser Perth's team.
He had almost lost his concentration when one of the men yelled frantically, pointing in the direction of the pathway leading to castle Redcliffe. "There they are! They're coming!"
Logan nodded to Ser Perth and he raised his hand to signal the archers. The men, including Leliana, raised their bows in the air and prepared to unleash a rain of arrows on the undead soldiers that were now marching toward them. When the zombies were close enough, Ser Perth gave his archers the signal and watched as a storm of arrows rained down on the enemy, dispersing them slightly as some of them ducked for cover. Most of the creatures darted forward, resulting in a number of them being taken down by the arrows as the archers continued their barrage. Logan narrowed his eyes and waited for the precise moment when the enemy walked right into their trap and, catching Morrigan's eye, unleashed two large fireballs and ignited the oil trap that they had set previously.
The trap engulfed the undead in flames and had killed off most of them when it suddenly began to rain. When Alistair and Ser Perth saw that the fires had been put out, with the defeated creatures replaced with an even larger number of them, they charged forward into battle with their men following behind them and went on the offensive.
Logan used the rain to improve the lethality of his lightning spell as he casted it, causing chains of lightning to attack one undead soldier after the other and easing the battle for the fighters. Suddenly, Leliana yelled from above, "Logan! Behind you!"
As if on instinct, Logan ducked and dodged a greatsword that had barely missed the top of his head. His heart hammering, he jumped to the side and used a mind blast to temporarily stun the monster that was behind him. Seizing the chance, he cast Winter's Grasp and smashed his staff strongly into the frozen creature, smashing it to pieces. He looked back at the overwhelming number of undead soldiers that were being suppressed by the archers and slowly taken down by Alistair and the others when he spotted two that managed to slip past them and charge toward Morrigan.
The witch had seen them first and was already retreating when one of the beasts lunged at her suddenly, and managed to knock her down onto the gravel with it on top of her. Logan immediately bolted toward the undead soldier that had already raised its sword, preparing to stab Morrigan, and managed to knock it aside with his own body and smashed his staff into its face, mangling it even more than its face had once been. Logan got back onto his feet and whirled around to face another, but it didn't seem to make any movement to attack him. On a second look, he realized that Morrigan had conveniently cast a crushing prison spell on it and glanced at the witch with a small grin.
Morrigan looked pleased with herself as the prison did its own work and gradually let the skeletal corpse fall limp onto the muddy ground. By this time, Alistair and Ser Perth had already exterminated almost every other undead soldier that had attacked them, and the latter announced with a triumphant tone that the battle had already been half won. As the militia returned back to their original positions under the shelter of the windmill, Alistair rushed forward and Leliana leaped from the second story of the windmill and landed swiftly on the ground, almost as agile as any other cat.
"Are you alright?" Alistair asked, his hair almost flat from the merciless rainfall, "I think we've killed all of them."
"For now," Logan added for him, and glanced at Morrigan, "Are you hurt?"
"I do not need to be coddled like a baby," Morrigan crossed her arms over her chest indignantly, "But I appreciate the sentiment. I am unharmed. There was no need to play the hero—I could have handled myself well anyway."
"Not from the way the creature had you pinned down," Leliana pointed out, causing Logan to laugh. The witch rolled her eyes and stalked off, finding shelter under the windmill.
"So what now?" asked Leliana, "Are we to wait here in the rain?"
Logan brushed his wet hair from his face, slightly irritated to find that the rain had completely ruined his coif—so distracted he had been that he did not notice Morrigan looking at him, admiring his roguish appearance. Alistair followed suit, and grumbled something incoherent as he tried to neaten himself. "I suppose—" Alistair began, but was interrupted as a villager came running up the slope, panting heavily.
"They're attacking the chantry!" the man said, pointing down at the village, where Murdock and the rest were already battling the swarm of undead soldiers.
By the time they reached the chantry, the fighting had already intensified. Logan leaped forward to save Bethany from an oncoming attack as he pulled her aside, as Morrigan casted a powerful mind blast that stunned every single undead in the area, giving the militia the upper hand. Garrett was taking turns with Sten to suppress the incoming waves from the docks as he attacked them with a barrage of lightning, ice and fire fusion spells while delivering swift physical attacks to keep the enemy back, and Sten charged into the fray and mowed down their ranks like a human tank. The Cousland twins were standing at the door of the chantry, supporting the melee fighters with their archery. Leliana soon joined them as Alistair and Ser Perth joined the fray beside Murdock.
After what seemed like an eternity, ranks and ranks of undead soldiers were finally defeated and the waves of them came no more. Logan felt his grip slacken on his staff as he let out a heavy sigh, feeling his heart hammering from the brutal fighting and from mental exhaustion. He felt something stinging on his arm as someone placed a hand there, and found that Morrigan was inspecting a deep and bleeding cut he had gotten from the battle. She muttered something under her breath and let the magic flow from her fingertips and watched as Logan's injury disappeared.
She looked up at him with a hint of a smile on her face. "Was that a thank you for saving your life back there?" Logan muttered teasingly.
The witch's lips stretched a little further. "I suppose it is."
"The battle is won!" came Murdock's cry, piercing through the momentary silence that had fallen upon Redcliffe. Logan turned away distractedly from Murdock to find that Morrigan had walked off to join Bethany as they began to heal the injured. The Redcliffe militia roared out triumphantly as the rain relented and reduced itself to a light drizzle. The wind swept through the village like a comforting breeze as Logan found the others, save for Morrigan and Bethany.
"That was brilliant," Garrett exclaimed, leaning casually against Sten, "You should have seen the both of us!"
Alistair chuckled. "I see you're both the best of friends now," he said sheepishly, earning a nonchalant grunt from Sten.
"We've never seen the militia so motivated," Sirius said.
"And particularly effective," added Alexandra, "For the past few nights, we've lost so many men and women. But tonight, we've lost only a few. It's a miracle."
Logan smiled appreciatively. "Their job is done, but ours is far from over."
The former templar nodded. "That's right, but we should get some rest for now," Alistair said, glancing up at the dark sky, "I think we can enter the castle when dawn arrives—I might collapse from exhaustion if we decide to head in now."
The Redcliffe militia was already beginning to gather the dead at the docks. Though there were not many that fell, Logan could still see how greatly their losses still affected the men. Despite that, he could sense that, from what Sirius and Alexandra had said, the militia was still a little more encouraged because of the way the battle had turned out. The men were not walking with slumped shoulders like they did in the day. The tired look in their eyes had almost vanished, replaced with renewed courage and strength.
"We shall send them off with dignity," Murdock could be heard from afar, "The brave men and women of Redcliffe have not died in vain after all. For the Arl!"
Morning came within a few seconds—or so it seemed to Logan. He looked out the window and realized that it was still too early in the morning for the sun to be out, but he could not sleep any longer. He recalled the events of the night before as he sat upright on his bed, and remembered how the militia of Redcliffe had won a battle that had crippled the ranks of the undead monsters that had come from the inside of the castle. He wondered, almost worriedly, whether Arl Eamon was still alive at this point. Without Arl Eamon, the army of Redcliffe would be discouraged without their leader. Though they had Bann Teagan, Logan didn't want to lose a life of an innocent when there was still a chance.
He slipped into his clothes that had been kindly washed and dried by the sisters of the chantry. He didn't like that they were treating them like royalty, but they had reassured him that they were doing this because they wanted to and not because they were obliged to. After all, it was because of Logan and his companions that there was a victory to be won in the first place. After placing his belongings back into his pack, Logan slung it over his shoulder and, after strapping his old staff to his back, left the chantry in hopes that there was something that could be done to pass the time.
The moment he stepped outside, however, he was met with Sten. The Qunari looked as stoic as ever, with an expressionless face. Logan wondered if he even slept, but remembered that the Qunari warrior had not even taken one step into the chantry. Sten glanced at him for a brief moment and gave the young mage a look over. "You are too young to be a Grey Warden."
Logan lifted an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means what it does," Sten said, although there was no animosity in his eyes, "It cannot be that hard to understand."
"Were you expecting old, wrinkly men?" Logan countered, crossing his arms over his chest with an irritable expression on his face. "Surely twenty-two is not too young an age? And Bethany—she's only eighteen. We've handled ourselves pretty well so far, in my opinion."
Sten considered Logan again, studying his face. "I never expected the Grey Wardens to recruit one so young. Your cousins as well. Your leader must have had a lot of faith in you to have accepted you into the Grey Warden order."
"He didn't accept us," Logan said, walking up to stand next to Sten, "We were conscripted." His thoughts traveled back to Duncan again, and how the man had conscripted them to save their lives. Though they escaped certain death, they were placed with a bigger responsibility—one that should not have been placed on all four of them so quickly had Duncan survived Ostagar. Logan pushed the angry thoughts—mostly directed at Loghain—away as Sten spoke again.
"So the Wardens would force people into their order?" Sten's tone was now curious. "Why would that be? I had the impression that the Grey Wardens were a respected order filled with heroes and skilled war strategists—clearly, an order that has been placed on a pedestal and worshiped."
Logan shook his head with an amused smile on his face. "Sometimes, we do what we must," he told the Qunari, as he thought about how they parted ways with Leandra and Carver, "For the greater good. For the safety of our family and country."
"Parshaara," Sten uttered. "I suppose there is a certain logic to your human mind."
Logan regarded Sten thoughtfully. The Qunari seemed to be trying to figure things out about the human race, the more Logan observed the warrior. If Sten had ever initiated conversations—which was as rare as Morrigan getting along with Alistair—it would almost always begin with a question. "Why did you come to Ferelden?"
"I did not choose to come here," Sten answered, "I was sent here."
"What for?"
"To find an answer to a question," Sten replied curtly.
"Yours?"
"No."
There was a long silence as Logan waited for Sten to elaborate, but when the Qunari did not make any indication of continuing the conversation, Logan probed further. "So whose question was it?"
Sten looked perturbed for a moment, perhaps at the young man's persistence. "The Arishok."
"What question was it?" he asked, wondering at the back of his mind what kind of question would be so hard to answer that one would have to send his men to seek it so painstakingly.
The Qunari groaned. "It is none of your business."
Logan rolled his eyes. "Why aren't you a statue of rock yet?" he snapped, and Sten glanced at Logan again with a look of mild surprise, "With your mannerisms and the way you interact—no, wait, you hardly interact with any of us at all—you might as well be an object I am foolishly trying to make conversation with."
"I am unlike you or the other dim-witted one," Sten said gruffly, clearly referring to Alistair. "You should not expect me to become your friend, because that is not what my purpose is. I do not, as you say, 'make friends'. Duty is above everything else."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to get to know who you're working with," Logan said, "I'm pretty sure you Qunari know each other, right?"
Sten sighed. "Do not hassle me with your feeble reasoning."
The mage had a sudden urge to hit the tall Qunari in the face, but suspected that his fist would be the one in pain instead of Sten and abandoned that idea. "You are odd," Logan merely said, "Are all Qunari as solemn and terse as you?"
"You have not met many Qunari then," Sten said simply.
"I'm not sure I'd like to." Logan pursed his lips and diverted his attention away from Sten and faced the east, where the sun was slowly making its ascent. "Are you going to tell me what the question was or not?"
"No."
They gathered promptly within the next hour in front of the windmill, where they waited for Bann Teagan to arrive. Alistair was distractedly looking at the castle across the lake while fidgeting with his hands. Logan wanted to ask him why, but suddenly remembered that Alistair was of Theirin blood, which would essentially make Arl Eamon his uncle. He approached his friend and rested a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"He'll be fine," Logan said, hoping that he wasn't lying to Alistair and himself.
"I hope so," Alistair sighed heavily, "I don't think I can handle another death in the family. He… Eamon loved me like I was his real son. But I was upset, as a child. I didn't believe Eamon saw me as his own son, even though we shared the same blood. I'm just afraid I won't get the chance to say I'm sorry—I haven't seen him for so long, ever since I was sent off to the chantry as a boy and raised to be a templar."
"Why would he send you away if he loved you?" Logan asked.
Alistair grimaced. "His wife, Lady Isolde, didn't really like me much. She thought I was Eamon's flesh and blood, and that he had an affair with someone else, so she demanded for me to be sent away to the chantry. Eamon didn't want to, but he loved her though it gave him some problems—seeing as how he married her so soon after the war between Orlais and Ferelden—so he obeyed to make her happy. So off I was packed to the nearest monastery at age ten, just as well—the Arlessa made sure the castle wasn't a home to me by that point. She despised me."
"What an awful thing to do to a child," Logan said, being able to relate to how he must have felt back then—Logan himself was snatched from his mother's arms when he was just a child—and felt rather bitter for his friend.
"Maybe," Alistair shrugged, "She felt threatened by my presence, I can see that now. I can't say I blame her—she wondered if the rumors were true herself, I bet. I remember I had an amulet," he went on, his eyes still fixed on the silent and seemingly deserted castle, "with Andraste's holy symbol on it. The only thing I had of my mother's. I was so furious at being sent away, I tore it off and threw it at the wall and it shattered. Stupid, stupid thing to do," Alistair blinked rapidly a few times as though he was trying to chase away tears, his expression now rueful, "The Arl came by a few times to the monastery to see how I was, but I was stubborn. I hated it there and blamed him for everything and eventually, he just stopped coming."
Logan tried to smile reassuringly, to show Alistair that there was still hope and a second chance, but Alistair could only smile sadly back at him. "At any rate, all I know is that the Arl is a good man and well-loved by the people. Being Cailan's uncle, he has a personal motivation to see Loghain pay for what he did. Other than a sentimental reason for wanting to save him, I think he'll be of great use to us in terms of political influence."
Footsteps could be heard from behind them as a voice called out, "Odd how quiet the castle looks from here. You'd think there was nobody inside at all."
Logan and Alistair turned around to face Bann Teagan, who looked worn and worried. "But I shouldn't delay things further," continued Teagan, "I have a plan… to enter the castle after the village was secure. There is a secret passage here, in the mill, accessible only to my family."
The Warden mage looked surprised as he asked, "Why didn't you mention this before?"
"I knew you would choose to enter the castle instead of staying in the village," Teagan said almost regretfully, "We need warriors. I'm sorry if—" He stopped in mid-sentence as his eyes darted to something—or someone—else behind Logan. "Maker's breath!"
From behind emerged a lady and a guard beside her, someone Alistair and Teagan both recognized. "Teagan," the woman exclaimed, "Thank the Maker you yet live!"
"Isolde," Teagan breathed, "You're alive! How did you…? What has happened?"
The Arlessa looked almost frightened as she spoke to her brother-in-law. "I do not have much time to explain! I slipped away from the castle as soon as I saw that the battle was over, and I must return quickly. And I need you to return with me, Teagan… alone."
Logan narrowed his eyes and stepped forward. "Why don't we all go to the castle?"
Isolde glanced at Logan. "What?" she said agitatedly, "I… who is this man, Teagan?"
Alistair chose this moment to cut in. "You remember me, Lady Isolde, don't you?" Alistair sighed, looking at the Arlessa with an uncomfortable expression.
The Orlesian woman scrutinized the Grey Warden beside Logan. "Alistair?" she said, "Of all the—why are you here?"
"They are Grey Wardens, Isolde," Teagan told her gently, "I owe them my life."
Isolde looked almost regretful at her own hostile tone as she looked back to Logan. "Pardon me," she apologized, softening, "I—I would exchange pleasantries but… considering the circumstances…"
"Please, Lady Isolde, we had no idea anyone was even alive in the castle," Alistair pleaded, with a careful tone about his voice, "We must have some answers."
"I know you need more of an explanation but… I don't know what is safe to tell," Isolde said, moving over to Teagan's side. "Teagan, there is a terrible evil inside the castle. The dead waken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but it still continues. And I think," she stopped to let out a small sob, "Connor is going mad. We have survived, but he won't flee the castle. He has seen so much death! You must help him, Teagan. You are his uncle—you can reason with him. I don't know what else to do!"
Teagan placed both of his hands on her shoulders and gripped them tightly, offering a silent consolation as Logan spoke again. "What about Arl Eamon—is he still alive?"
"He is," Isolde said, "He is being kept alive so far, thank the Maker."
"Kept alive?" repeated Teagan questioningly, "Kept alive by what?"
"Something the mage unleashed," Isolde explained, "So far it allows Eamon, Connor and myself to live. The others… were not so fortunate. It killed so many and turned their bodies into walking nightmares! Once it was done with the castle, it struck the village! It wants us to live, but I do not know why. It allowed me to come for you, Teagan, because I begged, because I said Connor needed help."
"Do you think this "evil" could be some kind of demon?" Logan offered, looking from Teagan to Isolde.
"I do not know," Isolde said, her voice shaky, "Oh, Maker's mercy! Could it truly be a demon? I can't let it hurt my Connor! You must come back with me, Teagan. Please!"
"Tell me about this mage you mentioned," asked Logan, becoming more and more troubled the more Isolde spoke. Somehow, he sensed that her terror was because of a reason far more serious than just a single demon taking over the castle and killing all of the attendants. Logan had a creeping feeling that things were more complicated than that.
"He is an infiltrator, I think—one of the castle staff. We discovered he was poisoning my husband. That is why Eamon fell ill."
"Eamon was poisoned?" Teagan repeated loudly, his eyes widening with shock.
Isolde nodded, and let out a strangled sob she had been holding in. "He claims an agent of Teryn Loghain hired him. He may be lying, however. I cannot say."
"Why do I get the feeling you aren't telling us everything?" Garrett piped suddenly, stepping forward with a look of suspicion on his face. Behind him, Bethany, Morrigan, Leliana and the Cousland twins mirrored his feelings on their faces as well. Logan could not blame him—there was something else he knew that Isolde was hiding. It was evident in her eyes and the countless loopholes in whatever she had told them so far.
Isolde glared at Garrett. "I… I beg your pardon!" she said, seething, "That is an impertinent accusation!"
"Not if it's true," Sirius sided with Garrett, clenching his fists. "Out with it."
"An evil I cannot fathom holds my husband and son hostage! I came for help," Isolde exclaimed angrily, "What more do you want from me?" The Orlesian Arlessa turned back to her brother-in-law. "Teagan, I do not have much time! What if it thinks I am betraying it? It could kill Connor! Please, come back with me… I am begging you!"
"So why must he go alone?" Morrigan narrowed her eyes at the Arlessa. "There is an obvious indication that this may be a trap for fools."
"For Connor's sake!" Isolde cried, "I promised I would return quickly and only with Teagan! Teagan, I know you would order your men to follow you when you come back with me to the castle. I beg you not to—for Connor's sake!"
Teagan looked sadly at Isolde. "The king is dead, and we need my brother more than ever. I will return to the castle with you, Isolde."
"Oh, thank the Maker! Bless you, Teagan, bless you!" Isolde broke into a smile as she held his hand.
Logan tried not to roll his eyes. "It seems you have little choice."
"I have no illusions of dealing with this evil alone," Teagan admitted, "You, on the other hand, have proven quite formidable. Isolde, can you excuse us for a moment? We must confer in private before I return to the castle with you."
"Please do not take too long," Isolde said worriedly, "I will be by the bridge." After she left with the Redcliffe soldier, Teagan finally turned back to Logan and the rest.
The Bann fished out a ring from his pockets. "Here's what I propose," he started, "I go in with Isolde and you enter the castle using the secret passageway. This signet ring unlocks the door. Perhaps I will… distract whatever is inside there long enough for you to get in unnoticed. What do you say?"
Logan looked to Alistair, who by now had a troubled look on his face. The former templar exchanged looks with Logan and shrugged, deciding to leave the decision up to Logan. The mage thought hard on this, and, when no one else spoke up to offer their opinions, asked, "What exactly am I supposed to do in there?"
Teagan shook his head. "I wish I knew. I don't know anymore about this "evil force" than Isolde seems to. Ser Perth and his men can watch for danger at the castle entrance. If you can open the gates from within, they can move in and help you. I don't think there's anyone else who can assist you at this point. If you choose not to go, then it is up to me to do what I can." He handed Logan the signet ring. "Whatever you do, Eamon is the priority here. If you have to, just get him out of there. Isolde, me and anyone else… we're expendable."
"No way!" Alistair cut in, "We're not leaving anyone else to die in there, Teagan!"
"I agree," Logan said, "We'll rescue you all. I promise."
"You are good men and women," Teagan said, now addressing the entire group, "The Maker truly smiled upon me, when He sent you to Redcliffe."
Leliana made a noise behind Garrett. "So we're just going to send him with that woman? It seems so dangerous!"
Alexandra sighed. "I don't think we have a choice," she told the former lay sister, as she adjusted her leather gloves. "We'll just have to move quickly once we're inside then, and make sure they're all alright," Sirius added, glancing at his sister and the redheaded archer.
"I can delay no longer," Teagan said, making to walk off in the direction that Isolde did, "Allow me to bid you farewell and good luck."