The Keening Blade
Chapter 47: Everything You Ever Wanted to Know about the Grey Wardens, but Were Afraid to Ask
Before they descended into the depths of the fortress—the part that probably was the real prison they were told of—Loghain ordered everyone to have something to eat and get some rest. It was unfortunate that there was no way for them to have a hot meal, but they had some dried rations that would lend them strength.
"And we have plenty of water, so they can at least have a hot drink," Maude declared. She pulled out a silver box from deep within a pocket. "Highever Honeygrass! Just the thing when killing darkspawn." She found a battered cauldron, had the mages sear it clean, and set about brewing tea.
"S'not bad, spiked with a bit of home brew," Oghren said, producing a stone bottle. Soon the sweet, spicy scent of the tea was victorious over the rank odors of battle. Everyone became much more cheerful, drinking their tea spiked or unspiked, unwrapping their rations.
The dwarven ghouls had supplies, of course, but they were nasty and foul. Grey Wardens were resistant to any kind of sickness, but Hawke's people were not.
Supplemented with the hot, fragrant tea, their own food was not so bad, after all. They had bought a supply of a kind of meal bar made in Kirkwall, composed of bacon pounded with dried fruit, oats, and nuts, and formed into thin logs. Elf Fingers, they were called, though rude people called them something a bit different. They actually gave a great deal of nourishment for their weight. Fenris and Merrill must not mind the name, for they were eating as hungrily as anyone else. Even the dogs liked Elf Fingers.
Morale was still high. Some gossip, some flirting, and Maude going on about Gareth. It was easy to see who in the group was even moderately interested in babies, and who was not. That could be surprising, sometimes. Loghain knew that Bethany liked children, but Varric was listening with amused tolerance, and Fenris was surprisingly attentive. Isabela was pretending to scoff, but Loghain had learned to see through the masterly scoffings of Morrigan, and Isabela was not in the same league.
They filled their canteens once more and Maude took the lead, along with Varric and Thanyra. There were no traps, but a bit of noise rose up from below.
Down, the stairs they went. Down and down. The staircases transformed gradually into elegant masterpieces of stonework: a bit crumbling, but still very fine. At the foot of the stairs a party of dwarves burst out running in the other direction. Thanyra and Varric quickly dropped two of them, but the rest disappeared into the labyrinth ahead.
Oghren bellowed a curse from the rear. "Bastards have trapped us!"
This was not good. The mages inspected the warded barrier and agreed that going back was not an option for now.
"The whole blasted thing's sealed over," Ambrose said. "I could work on it, but without knowing exactly what it is..."
"Very well. Then we go forward," Loghain said. "Whatever is doing the magic is ahead, anyway. That's what we've come to destroy."
It was not the Deep Roads, really, but it resembled them. No windows, but huge balconies, looking across to the heavy tower that he was certain was their destination. Maude studied the balconies, and shook her head.
"No point climbing down. We could be attacked from behind. If we absolutely had no other way to get out, we could give climbing up a try. I could do it, but since we want to explore anyway, I don't see the point in trying it now."
"Right," agreed Hawke. "To get to the tower, it looks like we have to go down, and then up."
"There's probably a tunnel from the lowest level here over to the tower," Loghain speculated. "It's like Drake's Fall, with a tower going down instead of up. We'll clear all this lot as we go."
A heavy door loomed ahead, sticking inconveniently. There was a pause, and then Osbeck kicked it down. They walked through.
"Well done, Osbeck!" praised Maude. "I am in awe before the power of your booted feet! Oh, my—"
The genlocks, feasting on dwarven corpses, looked up and saw them.
Maude bounded toward them, and Loghain pounded after her. Within seconds, everyone was in position, and hacking lustily at the brutes. The dogs bayed, herding the darkspawn into corners, and then ripping into them. Loghain noticed that Hawke's dog Hunter was doing very well.
One darkspawn down, then three, then six... In short order all nine were down, and Loghain could get a good look at the place.
Yes. It somewhat resembled the Deep Roads, but that could be because dwarves probably had a role in the construction. Fine stonework, handsomely carved. Along the corridor were barred cells, and some cells that were not barred, suggesting... Loghain considered. Magical barriers, perhaps?
"I could do without all the griffons," Maude sniffed, waving at the statues in every conceivable corner. "It's a Warden prison. We get that. That the Wardens have to stick up effigies of griffons everywhere is simply a testament to their bad taste. They should just put a sign over the door: 'Grey Warden Hellhole: Abandon Hope, All Ye Who Enter!'"
"That's interesting," Ambrose said, gesturing at a shield hanging in the next chamber. Part of it was glowing ominously. "I think it's a magical device of some kind."
Merrill and Bethany hurried to look at it. Bethany gingerly touched a glowing red light with the tip of her staff, and a resonant, disembodied voice issued forth.
"Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be."
"Hello?" Maude called. "Somebody down here? Somebody with a very nice voice?"
"It sounded like..." Hawke began uncertainly.
"...Father..." whispered Bethany. "But how can that be?"
They moved along the row of empty cells. Further on were more of the shields with the red lights. Ambrose had read about such things, and remembered that they were triggers of some sort. Perhaps in this case they triggered barrier wards.
"Very sophisticated," he said. "There was a lengthy book in Old Tevinter about them in the Circle library. They're for containing demons. The voice is part of the enchantment; a memory of the spell that was cast...well, who knows how long ago? It's called a Mark of the Binder."
They found what appeared to be an empty cell with such a Mark, and shortly discovered that tapping it did indeed release a Binding. The cell was not empty, after all.
"Oh, look!" cried Maude. "A Shade. Let's kill it!"
More of the demons rose up, and were annoyingly resistant to anything but magic. The large number in the party, however, distracted the demons, and they were frozen and destroyed. As the last glow of magic faded, the disembodied voice spoke again.
"I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place, but I will have no one say that any magic of mine released one into the world."
"It does sound like Father," Hawke said.
"And it appears he didn't think much of Grey Wardens," Loghain remarked sourly. "Judging from this place, I think I can see his point."
"Really!" Maude muttered. "Leaving demons unguarded? Why? Why not destroy them and save everybody else a headache? This place makes absolutely no sense."
It had been designed by a lunatic, Loghain decided. Rows of cells led to nothing; corridors met at odd angles. And there were bones. Lots of human and dwarven bones. Most of them were quite bare and of not much interest to the dogs.
"Plenty of human bones in the cells, too," Maude pointed out tartly. "I wonder if the Wardens didn't use the prison for other captives."
Had the Wardens imprisoned people here? Loghain found this idea deeply disturbing. Even...he grimaced at the thought...their own? Imprisoned, and left to starve and die, or be slain and eaten by the monsters that inhabited the place? He directed his people to search the cells for anything...anything at all that would explain what was going on here.
Finally, in a particularly nasty cell, they found a document.
"Privileged to the Wardens," Ambrose read. He called out, "This is important!"
Maude leaned in and then took the paper, reading it aloud.
"All we hear is that this is one of the great Grey Warden secrets. 'It must be protected at all costs.' As usual, we're most concerned with deceiving our own people. But why hide that the Deep Roads were shaped not only by the dwarves but also by us?
"I found records dating back to 1004 TE, the wake of the First Blight. Early Wardens discovered that some darkspawn could think and speak and command portions of the horde even after the Archdemon's death. A few could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter magister, and the Wardens greatly feared them.
"It was here, in the Vimmark Mountains, that Warden Sashamiri set her trap to capture and study the greatest of these creatures, the one whom they called Corypheus."
"Sashamiri is an elven name!" Thanyra cried in excitement.
"Yes...another outstanding elven Warden." Maude smiled tolerantly, and then sent the girl off to search more cells. Maude turned to Loghain, and her smile became something quite grim.
"So they studied this Corypheus. Isn't that nice? And what came of that, I'd like to know? Nothing they've deigned to share, evidently. And then they just...leave him here? I swear this is the craziest outfit in Thedas, not excepting the Chantry!"
They moved from stone chamber to chamber. Everywhere were tiresome griffon statues and the arms of the Wardens. The place was grand even in decay.
Thanyra moved ahead, peering out to a stone bridge connecting one part of the structure to another, and then shrank back, giving Maude a wild-eyed look.
"Come and see!" she whispered. "That is not a darkspawn...is it?"
Maude looked, and slipped quickly to the doorway, gesturing to Loghain. "No. It's not a darkspawn. Loghain, we might get some questions answered."
Loghain narrowed his eyes. What was that creature, grubbing in the rubble? It moved like a darkspawn, but its skin was much lighter, and there were random patches of hair on its head. The creature rose from its haunches, and Loghain saw what it was wearing.
"Maker's Breath!"
They moved forward—cautiously— to meet the shambling figure in Grey Warden armor.
It was a ghoul. Clearly, it was a ghoul, judging from the filmy eyes. It was also still, to some degree, a man, a warrior, and a Warden.
The pitiful creature looked their way, and gaped. He took in the Warden armor, then limped toward them, calling out questions in a rasping, stammering voice.
"The Key! The Key! Did they find it? I heard the dwarves looking...digging. How did you bring the Key here?"
"Er..." Maude began, with a tight smile. "You're not...Corypheus, are you? Because that would be bad."
The ghoul Warden shrank away, lifting his hands as if to ward off even more evil than was contained in his own putrid carcass. "Do not say his name! He will hear you. Do not attract his attention—-not when you hold the Key!"
Bethany asked, hefting the staff. "You mean this, don't you? How can this be a key?"
"Magic! Old magic it is. Old magic from blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them."
"All this talk about blood is a little creepy," Hawke complained
Loghain said, "Are you at least planning on telling us your name?"
"So long since I said my name," the ghoul whispered. "Larius. Larius...that was my name. There was a title, too... Commander... Commander of the Grey."
"Thus definitely a Warden," said Maude. "Not exactly what we want on our recruiting posters, of course."
"A Warden!" Ambrose gasped. "What happened?"
The Wardens gathered, staring at the ghoul, and Loghain could see they were alarmed. How could he blame them? Who would want to be reduced to this? With all the hideous changes, it was difficult to guess the man's age, but he must be in his middle years. He might even be younger than Loghain himself.
"I've heard your name before!" Valentine interjected. "You were the Warden-Commander of Tantervale before I Joined. I thought..." he looked horrified. "That you had died... that you went to your Calling." He blushed, and remembered that not everyone present was a Warden.
Merrill asked, her sweet face perfectly innocent, "What's a Calling?"
"Nasty Grey Warden secret," Maude said. "Non-Wardens please put your fingers in your ears and whistle—or not. I really don't care."
"I do," said Loghain. "Hawke, take your people and go stand over there."
Hawke looked briefly rebellious, and Varric was nearly perishing from curiosity. Loghain scowled at the lot of them and then turned his back, considering the wreck before them.
Warden-Commander Larius. The thing had been a Warden-Commander. Loghain felt disgust rise in him like a great rolling wave. Better poison...better to fall on one's sword...better an assassin's knife than this horror. Avernus had saved the Fereldan Wardens from this fate. Loghain was now wondering uneasily if it was his duty to share his discovery. Surely not. When he left this place behind, he would come to his senses. But it was so very wretched. Briefly he considered cutting off the poor creature's head on the spot and putting him out of his misery. Maude would understand, but the junior Wardens might take it quite the wrong way.
Larius began babbling, overjoyed to have an audience other than himself.
"Wardens, yes. Guardians against the Blight. I can help you. Show you the way. Down and in. Down and in. I went to the Calling. The song gets louder. Only death stops it. Oh, yes. I am dead, but I never died—"
Kain scratched his head, and asked, "How is it that he's even alive down here? Why haven't the darkspawn killed him?"
Maude's smile became very peculiar indeed. "Once the corruption goes far enough, the darkspawn think he's one of them. None safer from them than he!"
Loghain looked at his appalled Wardens and said crisply. "This will not happen to you, because of the improved Joining formula. Avernus lived to be over two hundred years old and never experienced the Calling." To Larius he said, "Are there are other exits to this prison?"
The decaying teeth were exposed in a sly smile. Larius said, "The Wardens built their prison well. If the center holds, who cares what else is trapped?"
Patiently, Maude said, "I take that to mean that what comes in does not go out. Looks like we'll have to take the place apart, Loghain." She waved at Varric. "You can come back now. Warden Story-Time is over. "
"Like anyone cares about your poxy secrets," muttered Isabela.
"I'd like to know them," Merrill said, eyes wide. "I love secrets. Wardens are interesting. I met another Warden once. He had a big black beard... I thought he was a bear, at first."
Loghain snorted at that image of Duncan, and smirked at Maude. She shrugged, smiling ruefully.
She said, "Larius here says that the only way out is down, and then up through the central tower."
"Looks like we'll have to go through this place from end to end, Hawke," muttered Varric.
The name riveted the ghoul's attention. "Hawke! The Blood of the Hawke. You, too?" he asked Hawke. "Only the Blood of the Hawke holds the key to his death...Yes, I can show you out, yes."
"You do notice that he's completely crazy?" Varric whispered to Maude.
Larius managed to nod and shake his head at the same time. The motion made Loghain faintly queasy.
"Not crazy. no. Trust me. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the Key. You must use it, yes. On the seal. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke. Not back. Not up. Only way out is down, and through. Down in the depths. There are documents. I will bring them."
He loped away with a queer stealthy movement.
Fenris raised a handsome brow. "So that's a Warden gone to seed."
"He's not trying to kill us," Varric pointed out. "That makes him all right in my book."
"Mine, too," Maude agreed cheerfully. "We'll keep him in sight. He knows the place, and the darkspawn won't pay any attention to him."
"Why not?" Hawke asked. Bethany nudged him. "Oh. Sorry," he grunted, with exaggerated remorse. "Warden Secret. Excuse me for wanting to know why a Grey Warden would turn into a ghoul and be mistaken for a bosom buddy by the darkspawn."
"You have secrets," Bethany shot back pertly. "You never told me what happened when you were sent to collect that debt at the Blooming Rose."
"What happened, dear little sister," snarked Hawke, "was absolutely none of your business."
Bethany tossed her head. "Well, there you are."
Larius hobbled back, waving some tattered parchment.
Loghain said, "Anyone not a Warden, don't touch anything he's touched."
"I don't want to touch anything he's touched, and I'm a Warden," Oghren grunted. "And not even very particular in my habits, if you know what I mean."
"We do," Loghain said, taking the parchment from Larius. To his embarrassment, he found it nearly illegible, written in a florid, antiquated hand. Casually, he handed it off to Maude. "More history."
"Oh, good. I love history." She scanned the document. "Nothing here that we need to keep secret, since it's about the Warden's Prison in which we are all currently trapped."
She cleared her throat and read.
"The Warden's Prison.
"The Grey Wardens' prison in the Vimmark Mountains is believed to have been constructed more than a thousand years ago. The original method of construction has been lost to history, but the Warden-Commanders of the Free Marches have maintained the prison's secret through the centuries.
"The prison is concealed in a great rift in the Vimmark Mountains, far from any easily-traveled mountain passes. The Wardens themselves have spread rumors of banditry and beasts to prevent explorers from approaching.
"The prison consists of a central tower built into the rift with magically-maintained bridges allowing access at different levels. Each level is sealed by a blood magic ritual in which a mage of untainted blood uses his own life essence to create a magical barrier that is permeable from the outside yet impenetrable from within. This one-way access has caused other darkspawn—and perhaps unwary travelers—to be caught within the prison's confines. Those who disappear inside never re-emerge."
"Perhaps quite a few unwary travelers," said Hawke. "Not very sporting of you Grey Wardens."
"What do you mean, 'you?'" Oghren growled. "Nobody here built this place!"
"I agree about unsporting and all," Maude shrugged. "Very bad form, catching everything in a big trap. Look here, Larius—"
"Come," cackled the ghoul. "The First Seal awaits the blood of the Hawke! Let the Key absorb the magic back into itself." Larius hobbled away, beckoning to them.
Varric leaned close to Maude. "Not to rain on your parade, Princess, but do we really want to follow the advice of that bald and seriously looney ghoul?"
"He's the closest thing to a native guide we've got," she said. "Native guides can be treacherous, but they can also be surprisingly faithful, and then die heroically saving their companions. And then each of us will shed a crystal tear in his memory. I think I read that in a book somewhere..."
Hawke was already laughing.
Varric threw up his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I wrote that. He wasn't a ghoul in my story!"
"Enough of this," Loghain said, dragging Maude away from her literary salon.
In a round chamber they found an elaborate magic circle, bound with iron and salt, with four lyrium torches at the cardinal points.
"Let me guess," Loghain said, with heavy sarcasm. "The First Seal?" He gave Bethany a nod. She had the Key, after all.
Gingerly, she tapped the top of the seal with her new staff. The clanging resounded through the room. Nothing else happened.
"I think it was supposed to do something more exciting than that," Valentine complained.
Bethany looked at Ambrose anxiously, and he grimaced.
"You know what you have to do," he said.
"I don't want to!" she shot back, genuinely distressed.
Loghain had grasped what was necessary at once, and sympathized with the girl. If she was averse to performing Blood Magic, that was only to her credit, and he was loath to force her.
Adam Hawke moved close to his sister and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
"They need the blood of a Hawke. They didn't care which one." Without hesitation, he smoothly drew his belt knife and sliced a shallow cut into his forearm. As the first drop of blood touched the seal, there was a burst of white flame. A spectral ogre materialized, threw back its horned head, and roared.
Which gave them lots of time to attack. It was big and damage-resistant; but they all knew how to inflict a great deal of damage very quickly, and there was only one of it. When Loghain stabbed it in the heart it abruptly vanished. The lyrium torches blazed higher, wreathing Bethany and her staff in sparks of blue. When they died down, the staff glowed briefly.
"Ooo!" Merrill marveled. "That was pretty!"
"I think it fed more power into the staff," Bethany told them. "Maybe that's what he meant by the Key absorbing the magic into itself."
"Maybe," Ambrose agreed cautiously. Briefly the mages conferred over the staff. Then Bethany used it to heal Hawke's self-inflicted wound.
Larius peered around the corner and crept in. "Two thousand years. The blood works. It is good. The magic calls to the blood...reads the thoughts of those that hold the Key. The last to hold it...the Hawke. I was here, when he laid the seals. Before I became...this." His filmy eyes turned to Adam and Bethany Hawke. "You both favor him."
The two Hawkes looked at each other, unable to find words.
"Let's go," Maude urged them soothingly. "We all have acquaintances that we'd never introduce to our children. I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason your father was mixed up with ghouls, demons, darkspawn, and an inescapable Warden prison...though it doesn't occur to me at the moment."
They moved out the far door. There was yet another bridge, connecting the round chamber with another part of the structure.
"Darkspawn ahead," Loghain muttered. The sensation was very strong, but he saw nothing. No, wait...
"Something's moving..." said Maude.
A squat figure detached itself from a pillar. They had not seen it at first, as it was sheltered behind a massive iron shield taller than itself. The shield was so large, in fact, that the genlock simply pushed it along in front, with an ear-splitting scream of metal on stone.
"That is one seriously heavy shield," Varric remarked, blinking, so astonished that he almost forgot to dodge out of the way.
It was another powerful enemy, this time, extremely resistant to magic, and insensible to pain. Osbeck finally got the shield away from the genlock by separating its hands from the rest of its body.
"Ah," beamed Maude, "the old Chopping-Off-The-Hands Trick. That's one of my favorites, especially today. Larius, are there are lot of these—?"
But the ghoul Warden was gone.
"Slunk away," Darrow said. "Took our eye off him for a minute and he's gone."
"Hope he's not going to rat us out to the darkspawn," Kain said indignantly.
"I don't believe he will." Loghain said, still engrossed with the dying genlock.
It kept on trying to fight, even when armless; rushing at them and knocking them aside. It drooled a great deal, which was also unattractive and previously unseen darkspawn behavior. They had to further dismember it to put it down, which was messy and disagreeable.
Once it was dead, however, they were pleased to discover that they had completely cleaned out that floor of the prison. Another staircase was found. They prepared themselves, and then descended to the next level.
It was very much like the floor above, both in design and condition. There were darkspawn; there were prison cells; there were bones, picked clean.
"Where's the seal here?" Isabela wondered. "Too bad they're not all in one place, but no: that would be convenient."
They found more bindings, and more glowing triggers. They unleashed and slew more demons. And once again, they heard the voice of Malcolm Hawke.
"I may have left the Circle, but I took a vow. My magic will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base."
"It is Father!" cried Bethany, dark eyes glowing. "That's what he used to teach me. 'To serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base!' He was here. I can almost see it in my mind."
"Have I ever told you how much I envy you your magical father?" Ambrose asked.
Bethany squeezed her brother's hand. "I still miss him."
"So do I," Adam said heavily.
With painstaking effort, they searched every chamber and every cell; opened every chest, read every scrap of parchment. They also took every single object of value they could pilfer. Even a few objects of no value of all, just to keep their hands in.
"Whoa!" shouted Maude, from the rubbly depths of a cell. "Look at this! It's got an inscription with it. I think it's Tevinter."
Ambrose leaned over. "The Crown of Dumat. In reverence, you will approach the altar. Know that you come into the presence of Dumat. With head bowed, say:
'Blessed are you, Dumat, silent and strong, secret and wise. We bring you gifts, sacrifices to your greatness.'"
"An offering to one of the Old Gods!" Fenris whispered in disgust.
They crowded to stare at the black and spiky circlet of iron. Flourished upon it was an inlay of lyrium.
"It's very spiffy," Maude said, "but it doesn't look like it would fit a dragon's head. At all. Even if you cut off its horns, which it would probably not be inclined to tolerate. And Dumat's been dead for what...a thousand years? And he was an Archdemon, so I'm not praying to him. But it's a very spiffy crown all the same." She asked Bethany, "Would it make your magic stronger to wear something like that?"
"It's probably cursed," Merrill said primly.
"That, too," Ambrose agreed. "Most likely, the lyrium would cause brain tumors after awhile, but you'd be the greatest mage in Thedas until you dropped dead."
"Still," Loghain considered. "Maude is right. That was never meant to fit a dragon's head."
Hawke shifted uneasily, lost in thought. "When we met Flemeth—"
"Yes," Maude agreed. "That's very suggestive, isn't it? Flemeth said that maybe she really was a dragon, but we know she could also appear to be a woman. Maybe the Old Gods could do that, too. Maybe they liked being humans. Maybe they turned themselves into humans and dressed up with spiffy crowns, when they went off duty. Anyway, I'm taking it with us. It's a historically significant artifact, and it belongs in the Soldier's Peak Collection."
Further down the rows of cells, they found more bones, and another archive of parchment. These documents were old and crumbling; stained with blood and possibly even more unappealing bodily fluids. Much of the parchment fell to fragments when touched, but a few sheets were stronger. All of them were in Old Tevinter, and as such, only Ambrose could decipher them.
"Is it useful, or only a laundry inventory?" asked Maude.
Ambrose scanned it and then nodded grimly. "It's very much to the purpose." He read:
"An unusual discovery."
"The creature can speak. It has a name, Corypheus. We have encountered darkspawn before who use words, but none individual enough to have chosen a name. This Corypheus appears unique among darkspawn, and has gathered many of its brethren to follow it.
"It would be wasteful to kill such a creature. If it can be captured, tamed somehow, its unnatural influence over the darkspawn could perhaps be turned to our favor. It is clear the darkspawn will never bow to human commands, but this Corypheus seems at times more human than beast. I have conversed with it, and though its thoughts are disordered and inhuman, it speaks of the Old Gods by their Tevinter names. I have wondered if perhaps he is no darkspawn at all, but a ghoul, so corrupted by the Taint as to have become a new creature entirely.
"I recommend we find a way to capture Corypheus, hold it somewhere safe from both men and darkspawn, and study its unique nature. This will require magic, however, for Corypheus' own abilities are powerful. It uses spells both human and Tainted, and has a strength that would shame any magister. We must muster our best mages to face it and to hold it. I shall send my findings to the First Warden."
"And it's signed by Warden-Commander Farele and dated 1004 TE. A long time ago."
"Pre-Andrastean!" Bethany said in amazement. "That must date to the First Blight... or a little after."
"The Wardens were idiots even then," Maude sneered. "It's always a bad idea to let a darkspawn live—or hostile ghouls."
"You let that crazy Messenger live on the day we saved Amaranthine," Oghren pointed out. He chuckled in fond reminiscence. "Ordered him off to Orlais, too. Wonder how that worked out…"
Everyone who had not been there turned to Maude, eyes full of inquiry. She scowled.
"He was all right. He meant well. He helped us fight the attacking darkspawn, didn't he? Showed some seriously good swordsmanship. And I still think he was probably a Warden-turned-ghoul, rather than a darkspawn. He was like a real person. Maybe he was like poor Larius, only farther gone in ghoulification."
Loghain thought more about Corypheus. He sounded genuinely dangerous. Why study him? Why allow him to live on, if the Wardens were done studying him? And where had the Wardens found him? In the Deep Roads? Or elsewhere? Perhaps they would find more answers as they explored further.
More cells, more Bindings, more demons. Bethany and Adam looked forward to breaking the Bindings, if only for the chance to hear their father's voice again. One magical echo was particularly poignant:
"I've bought our freedom, Leandra. We can go home now, us and the baby. I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one. May it never know what I did here."
"He's talking about you, Adam." Bethany said softly. "This must have happened when Mother was expecting you." She smiled wistfully. "If he didn't want his child to be a mage, it never showed in my training."
"He did a brilliant job," Ambrose agreed kindly. "You're wonderfully well trained. The Circle could have done no better for you."
"Except for not learning Old Tevinter," she complained. "I did learn a bit, but we had only so many books!"
"If I had a proper text, I could help you learn more," Ambrose offered.
"That reminds me," Maude said. "We were going to rifle the library at the Circle. I wonder if I could talk Meredith Stannard into letting me poke around the Circle's library here."
"I think you'd have a better chance of wheedling the secret of gaatlok out of the Arishok," retorted Hawke.
Maude glanced at Loghain, and gave him a wink. She waited until the Hawkes were a little farther away, and then spoke softly.
"Here's what I think happened: the Wardens felt the wards weakening, and so they captured a poor apostate and blackmailed him into fixing the place. I suppose he was lucky they didn't leave him here to die."
"They were lucky he was a competent mage," Loghain agreed. "Otherwise, this place would have collapsed long ago, and we probably would already have heard of Corypheus."
They continued their meticulous search of the cells, in between savage fights with random bands of darkspawn. In a chest, Varric found a dagger of black iron, whose blade bore a tracery of lyrium.
"Be careful," Ambrose advised. "The inscription says it's Dumat's Sacrificial Dagger!"
"Ooo!" cried Maude. "Read it all, Ambrose!"
"It's more instructions for making an offering to Dumat. It says, Raise your face and hands to the skies and speak these words:
'O Dumat! O Lord of Silence! Accept these sacrifices made in your name! Grant us your power, and all that we seek!'"
"A matched set!" Maude said cheerily. "It goes gorgeously with the crown. Maybe Dumat had good taste, after all."
They eventually came to yet another round chamber, and the second seal. Here, the release of magic nearly knocked them off their feet. There was another spectral ogre, and Bethany's staff radiated sparks again after its satisfying demise.
"That's going to be an amazing staff," Merrill said, with the slightest hint of envy.
They made yet another descent down a very, very long staircase, and they found themselves at the dark base of the structure. Dim green light filtered in. Mist rose from fetid hollows. The stink was vile. There was a scrabbling ahead, and a pack of what looked like ugly, leathery green chickens scampered away into the shadows. The dogs growled, eager to loosed on the hunt.
"Deepstalkers!" Oghren shouted in disgust. "Sodding little bastards. Who knows what else lives down here?"
They found out, soon enough. Darkspawn, deepstalkers, and giant spiders lived down there. They had also died down there, adding the overall stench. The party came across more of the unusually powerful genlocks, and afterwards found a sepulchre that seemed to have belonged to one of the early Warden commandants of the prison, who by his bones, had been a dwarf. They looted it, of course. There was some nicely worked gold there.
They found other traces of those who had gone before. Weapons, of course. Bits of Grey Warden armor. Long ago, some of the Legion of the Dead had come through, searching for the lost son of a dwarven Paragon. He had perished, trapped in the Wardens' Prison. Nor had his would-be rescuers escaped.
In a mouldering chest they found more offerings to the Old God Dumat: a ritual scroll and an urn, all with rather creepy inscriptions. A squat and hideous little temple to Dumat, complete with altar and ever-burning flame, could be accessed by some stepping stones through the greenish muck. It was obviously very old: possibly one of the earliest parts of the complex.
"Who did the ancient people worship here in the old Tevinter Imperium?" Maude wondered. "I mean, before Andraste, and just after the Old Gods went wrong. It must have been terribly depressing. No wonder Andraste made such an impression. It's odd that Wardens would have a shrine to an Old God. I mean, they were founded to kill him, after all."
Isabela eyed the place with scorn. "Rivainnis have their own gods. I was hoping for the treasure chamber. I was hoping for any kind of treasure chamber. Shouldn't a temple have a treasure chamber?"
"It should. More treasure would have been nice,," said Maude, more philosophical about it all, "but it seems that the Wardens, showing uncharacteristic good sense, have chosen not to lock their gold and jewels away in an inescapable prison full of disgusting monsters. Who'd have guessed?"
"So..." Merrill began, wide-eyed. "Are we going to do the ritual?" Fenris gave her a very hard look.
"No," said Maude. "'Gold and jewels, meat and blood?' Not a chance. We don't owe Dumat a thing, and he's been dead for a thousand years. Or she. The Old Gods are kind of dodgy about the gender thing. High Dragons are all female, and so it would seem that the Old Gods were really all Old Goddesses. Are Old Goddesses, if we're speaking of Razikale and Lusacan, who are presumably still getting their beauty sleep."
The Wardens pondered this silently. Loghain looked about the temple, feeling very out of place—almost disoriented. At least before Andraste, Fereldans had worshiped some decent gods of their own: the benign Lady of the Skies; the stern Korth, the Mountain Father. Their relics, at least, did not give him this slimy feeling. He could see that others felt the same: Osbeck was making a gesture to ward off evil; Darrow and Kain were carefully wiping their hands after touching the walls. Hereward and Thanyra were shaking a bit. It was time to get decent people away from this ancient foulness.
They moved on, and found themselves emerging from the wet and swampy foundations up a slow incline into something that was not a cavern, but was certainly not a man-made chamber, either. More light seeped down here, and Loghain surmised that this might have been the surface before the tower was built. Now it was dirt and jagged rocks. He looked up, and through the swirling dust found that he was looking up the side of the tower. Far above, he could see the labyrinth of bridges and balconies, like spokes in a wheel.
They came upon the remains of a long-deserted campsite and there found more evidence of the Wardens: skeletons and a weathered journal bearing the Grey Warden's seal. This appeared to be comparatively recent, as it was written in the Common Tongue in a legible script.
"I like this," Maude mused, turning over a page.
"Speculations on Kirkwall
The records say Corypheus has been trapped below the Vimmarks since the days of the Tevinter Imperium. Can it be a coincidence that the darkspawn besiege this area more fiercely than anywhere else on the surface of Thedas? Or that Kirkwall, the closest city, suffers from endless plagues of violence, lunacy, human sacrifice, and blood magic?
"If one studies Kirkwall's public records, it becomes hard to deny that some malevolent force has long shaped its history. Could a darkspawn, even a powerful mage, have such influence even as it slumbers?"
Maude snapped the book shut.
"In a word, yes."
There were some thoughtful nods. Bethany bit her lip, considering all she knew. Hawke frowned, but did not seemed inclined to dispute it. Merrill looked mildly frightened, and started fidgeting.
"Well," said Maude, "I'm glad to find a kindred spirit here, even though long dead and anonymous. I think this Unknown Warden has hit on something profoundly true."
Fenris said quietly, "KIrkwall was an evil place, long before the First Blight, but one cannot deny that such a creature might be a malignant influence."
The path began spiraling around the base of the tower, leading up toward a low arched door.
Loghain grunted in relief. "From now on, we go up." He glanced at Maude who seemed distracted. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.
"A voice in my head," she whispered. "Do you hear him? I think it's Corypheus."
A shiver of fear. Loghain composed himself. Perhaps, just on the edge of consciousness...
"A presence, perhaps. I hear no words."
"I do. Most of it's nonsense, of course. Don't make a big thing of it. I've been tainted longer than anyone else here. It's not surprising I'd hear him best." She made a face. "I thought the Song of the Old Gods was supposed to be beautiful. Corypheus is sort of like a clanging gong. Not at all nice."
And at the center of the tower's foundation, they found another seal. This was much like the others, though now they knew what to expect and were better prepared. Bethany tapped the seal with her staff, Hawke cut himself, the ogre—now more powerful—manifested, and they destroyed it. The power Bethany drew into her staff this time made her sit down suddenly. Ambrose performed the healing and regenerative spells, while Bethany caught her breath. The seal chamber led out to a walkway that resembled the bridges higher up. The earth shook briefly.
Merrill whispered, "Something's happening...
Larius appeared again, lurking at the end of a bridge.
"Where'd he come from?" Kain asked, surprised. "Used a short-cut, maybe?"
Darrow chuckled. "Reckon it was another Grey Warden secret."
The ghoul babbled at them, hurrying their way.
"He feels the seals weaken. He's knows that you are close. We must hurry!" The ghoul's head snapped up. Horror filled the filmy eyes. Loghain hefted his sword warily, as Larius wailed, "No! No! They are here!"
Hawke muttered, "More voices in his head?"
Loghain snarled, impatient with all the mystery. "Who's here? More of the Carta?"
"No!" Larius warned them. "Worse. More treacherous. More dangerous. Grey Wardens. They listen to Corypheus. They seek to free him. You must stop them!"
Loghain felt it too, then, the subtle change in the feel of darkspawn. Maude and he glanced at each other. A smile bloomed on her lips.
"Wardens? This should be interesting..."
Four Wardens emerged from a doorway. They were nicely arrayed in the Warden uniform of Tantervale: blue leather and silvery mail, all flourished with griffons, in case they forgot who they were. The leader was a good-looking woman in late middle-age: a human mage with vividly green eyes. For a moment the Tantervale Wardens stopped and stared in surprise and consternation.
The woman exclaimed, "Who are you? You have the Key! And you've come through the seals, but how..."
One of the Wardens, a tall man with prematurely white hair, gaped at Larius.
"The Warden-Commander!"
Valentine pushed to the front and stood by Loghain. "Hullo, Janeka," he said.
The green-eyed mage barely took notice of Valentine, and her gaze slid scornfully from the ruined Larius. Instead, her eyes were fixed on Loghain, and she blinked. Loghain caught the exact moment when she realized who he was.
"You...are Loghain of Ferelden," she said slowly. The Tantervale Wardens were rocked by her words, and began murmuring to each other in amazement.
"That is the Archdemon armor!" whispered one. "It can be nothing else!"
The woman raised her hand to silence them.
"I am Senior Warden Janeka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens. Why are you here?"
There seemed little reason to prevaricate.
"One of my Wardens was attacked by Carta dwarves turned ghouls. They made clear they wished to abduct her and bring her to a creature named Corypheus. As it seemed likely that more would follow unless the problem was dealt with swiftly, I decided to root out the problem myself." He gave the woman a hard look. "If the Wardens were not so stupidly secretive—and so criminally careless—this problem would not have arisen at all. Apparently my Warden's father was forced to perform some magical tasks here."
"That is...true," Janeka confessed, clearly taken aback by Loghain's presence. "Without Malcolm Hawke this prison would have fallen twenty-five years ago." She cleared her throat and continued.
"The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn ever encountered, but even the best magic fades. The Wardens needed to reinforce the seals. The ritual required the blood of a mage untainted by...Warden training. The last to perform the ritual was Malcolm Hawke."
Adam Hawke sighed heavily. "Why do my family stories never involve embarrassing vacations in Antiva?"
"Blood Magic is wrong," Bethany said fiercely. "And the Wardens were wrong to force my father to do it!"
Janeka waved a dismissive hand. "To avert the Blights, Grey Wardens must do what is necessary."
"That's an argument we have to guard against," Bethany said hotly. "My father knew that!"
Janeka shrugged. "He was not given a choice. He was well paid for his services." She turned to Loghain, and spoke urgently. "We need the Hawkes' help. I have done research. I believe the original Wardens were wrong. Corypheus is not a danger! He's our greatest opportunity! He can talk, feel, reason! He wants to end the Blights. The search for the Old Gods comes at a terrible cost to his people. I know how to harness Corypheus...use his magic to end the Blights."
"A deal with a darkspawn?" Maude asked acidly. "Never a good idea. You think you can control him? I find that hard to believe."
"Corypheus cares nothing for the Blights," Larius agreed. "He has used you, Janeka. He speaks to you, and you believe his ideas are yours."
The Tantervale Wardens were wavering, impressed by Loghain, and shaken by the appearance of their former commander. Janeka whirled on them, shouting.
"Ignore this...creature! He's nearly a darkspawn himself!"
Larius broke in, shaking his balding head. "No! The Wardens knew! Corypheus is too powerful. Corypheus calls her, and she listens. She brought in the Carta...and sent them to you."
Janeka threw Larius a filthy look, and turned to Loghain, fuming. "You must help us! The Blights must end! How many died in Ferelden alone? And that was the least of the Blights!"
That was entirely the wrong thing to say. All three dogs began growling.
"'Least of the Blights'?" Maude said, her voice dangerously sweet. Some of their own people began backing away."'Least of the Blights?' How the fuck would you know? You Wardens in the Free Marches sat on your dead arses the entire time! Maybe," she snarled, her face close to Janeka's,"Maybe the Blight was brief because we are just that good!"
"Enough, Maude," Loghain said. He minced no words with the Marcher Wardens. "Corypheus may be a threat as great as a Blight. He dies here and now,"
"We'll do this with or without you!" Janeka shouted back. "This prison will be broken! The Blights will end!"
Before the woman could raise her staff, Ambrose shot her with a bolt of paralysis. Janeka, caught entirely by surprise, seized up and toppled over. Loghain raised his brows at the mage, and Ambrose grimaced in apology.
"Just trying to spare her life, Commander. Let's tie her up and see if her mind clears once we get her out of here."
"That's very nice of you," Maude praised him. "I hope it's properly appreciated." She looked darkly at the three remaining Tantervale Wardens, who were gripping their swords, backs to one another.
"You can fight me, if that's what you want," Loghain told them grimly. "You'll die, of course, but just as you like."
"Don't be stupid!" Valentine pleaded. "Ranulph! Vickery! Use your heads! Come on, Theo! This is Loghain! You don't stand a chance! Besides, Janeka's obviously being controlled by that creature!"
"What are you going to do?" the white-haired Warden Valentine called Ranulph asked, licking his lips nervously.
Loghain said, "We're going to do what the Wardens should have done from the beginning. We're going to destroy Corypheus."
The Tantervale Wardens looked at each other, and then nodded in surrender. "We're with you, Commander Loghain."
"I'm so glad!" Maude enthused. "It would have been very disagreeable to kill other Wardens. Now we can concentrate on what's important. There's an ancient saying: 'The only good ancient darkspawn is a dead ancient darkspawn!'"
Varric snorted. "There is no such saying, Princess!"
Maude beamed at him. "There is now!"
As they ascended the central tower, Maude talked to the other Wardens convincingly and soothingly, telling them about the Architect and his lying promises.
"—And then he let slip that he started the Blight himself, mucking about with the Old God Urthemiel! Of course we want to end the Blights, but it's not reasonable to expect darkspawn to have the same agenda. Even if they were not tunneling for an Old God, they'dstill plague our allies the dwarves, and they'd still steal women to replenish their numbers..."
None of the Wardens had ever seen a Broodmother, and so Maude had to explain that to them as well. Things were settling down fairly well, up until the time they came to a large hall.
A handful of dwarves rushed through another door. One pointed at the Wardens and shouted, "There! Those are the Hawkes! The others are to be killed!"
"Oh, don't be ridiculous!" Maude snapped. She turned to Loghain in disgust. "If I tried, I could convince them, but I just don't care."
"To arms!" shouted the dwarf leader. "And pray that Corypheus honors our sacrifice!"
Larius was still pretty good with a sword. They fought their way up through the central tower, slaying the last of the Carta zealots. In a dingy stone chamber they found a last piece of parchment: another ancient document in Old Tevinter, which was a copy of a memorandum send in 1014 TE from Warden-Commander Daneken to the First Warden in Weisshaupt.
"I was wrong. We cannot control the creature Corypheus. Even our most powerful mages hold no influence with him. In truth, it is they who have been most vulnerable.
"A dozen times, those assigned to guard or study the creature have sought the Key to free him. When they are removed to a safe distance, they remember little. They speak of a voice in their minds, a calling like that of the Old Gods, but it wanes outside Corypheus's presence.
"Darkspawn have attacked as well, seeking him. I can only assume they are summoned the same way. Somehow his magic lets him speak through the Blight itself, affecting any who bear its Taint.
"The same power stays the hand of any Warden who approaches to kill him. I must recommend that we seal this prison over and conceal its very existence. Corypheus must not be allowed to go free."
"Well," Maude said brightly. "There you are. We can't set Corypheus free. The seals are broken or breaking, so the only thing left is to kill him."
"But," the Warden named Vickery quavered, "It says that Wardens can't kill him!"
"We're not all Wardens," Loghain said thoughtfully. "As long as we can still fight and distract him, perhaps that will be enough. And our other companions may have the honor of slaying an ancient enemy."
Endless climbing; endless stairs. Not endless Carta dwarves, demons, or darkspawn, however. Loghain found they had no more enemies but their own weariness. At the top of the last staircase they found themselves outside in the chill of a desert night, the dim stars flickering overhead. They had reached the top of the central tower, and only a single bridge separated them from the last, most desperate challenge.
"This is nice!" Varric remarked. "I was just trying to picture a really grim and forbidding landscape, and here we are!" Maude grinned, and elbowed him. Together, they marched to the resting place of Corypheus.
Forbidding? Yes, Loghain decided. Eerie, menacing...what have you. The top of the tower was open at the sides, and four gilded griffons watched over the seal in the inlaid floor. Trickles of shining magic filtered from the griffons' mouths, like golden smoke. The beams converged on the seal, bathing it in mystical light. Even Loghain, prosaic as he was, could feel that this place was a powerful magical nexus. Magic shivered up and down his spine; what it must feel like to the mages he could not imagine.
Larius shambled ahead.
"He stirs! He wakes! Do not let him gather his full strength. Use the Hawke's blood! Free him, and slay him!"
It seemed a good idea to have a look at the ground before rushing into battle. The mages determined that the griffons grounded the containment spell. Each was carefully disarmed, and the golden light faded, replaced by a baleful green glow.
Bethany rapped the seal with the staff, and Hawke gashed his forearm once again.
The seal dissolved. They braced themselves for a burst of a light and another ogre. Instead, there was a silence, and then a long, attenuated figure floated up from the black hole gaping in the middle of the floor. Something not quite human, but not like a darkspawn, either. Half of the gaunt face was nearly normal; the other half appeared to be crystallizing into slabs of stone. The limbs were grotesquely long and emaciated; the appendages on the arms more claws than hands. Ragged, decaying finery trailed on an uncanny breeze. The creature came to a stop three feet from the floor, and opened its eyes. Loghain scowled. He was almost certain that this was no darkspawn. It was Blighted, true; but it had never issued from a Broodmother. This was a ruined human being; distorted and warped by evil magic and the Taint.
A gravelly voice issued forth. "Be this some dream I wake from? Am I in dwarven lands?"
Maude whispered to Ambrose, "He's speaking the Common Tongue! Where did he learn it? I thought he'd speak Tevinter!"
"I thought so too!" Ambrose hissed back. "Maybe he learned it when he was messing with the dwarves' minds!"
Corypheus' head turned slowly, taking in the crowd of mages, warriors, and dogs before him. His eyes fastened on Loghain, the tallest and most grandly attired. He pointed a bony finger his way and began issuing commands.
"You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat? Bring me hence! I must speak with the First Acolyte!"
Loghain took a deep, calming breath. Fenris, he decided, was totally correct about Tevinter mages. Arrogant bastards.
"I think... not."
Corypheus stared at him, nonplussed by his disobedience. He narrowed his eyes, bewildered by the appearance of the people before him.
"You look human. Are you not citizens of the Empire? Slaves, then, to the dwarves? Why come you here? Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!" His gaze shifted to Adam and Bethany, and became sly and cruel.
"You are what held me. I smell the blood in you." He lifted his voice to the unheeding skies.
"Dumat! Lord ! Tell me! How long have I slumbered? What waking dream is this?
Larius whispered, "He slept. He knows nothing of the time. We must kill him now."
Yes, well, that was what they were here for, after all. Loghain shook himself, uneasy at having been so enthralled by the creature. With a shout, he charged. The dogs burst into ferocious barking, and rushed along at his heels.
Maude and Hawke were in the vanguard, swords at the ready. Fenris, too, felt no awe of the creature. After the initial hesitation, the rest joined the fray.
The mages were essential to the fight. Corypheus was immensely powerful, and could knock any of them down with a wave of his absurdly long fingernails, but their mages had tricks of their own. Not one of them had the raw power of an ancient magister, but they knew many spells that Corypheus had not learned in his thousand years of sleep. That crushing spell that all three of them knew was particularly effective, and the magister knew no way to counter it, other than shooting huge blasts of fire.
"Crude elemental spells!" Ambrose shouted. "No finesse!"
"Just keep him slowed down!" Loghain shouted back.
It was hard to lay a blade to Corypheus' flesh. Loghain found himself hesitating at critical moments, shrinking back reluctantly. Was it the magister's power over any other Tainted being? Hawke and Fenris, Isabela, and Varric, he saw, had no such scruples. They had been warned of this, and it seemed the warning was valid. What the Wardens could do was make themselves targets, while Hawke and his friends dealt the real damage.
They were getting hurt, too. Random flashes of lightning split the air and sizzled on armor. On bare skin and fur, too. Howls of pain blended with the oaths and battlecries. They were wearing Corypheus down, but horribly slowly. He unleashed a storm of ice that sucked the breath from Loghain's lungs. As he stumbled, Isabela leap-frogged over his back and scissored her blades into the magister's skeletal chest. Another blast of energy, and the pirate was knocked flying. Maude swore, and then danced in front of Corypheus, distracting him.
"Behind the times, aren't you?" she mocked. "A Fereldan girl kicked your blighted Tevinter arses a thousand years ago. And this Fereldan girl can kick yours all...day...long!"
Out of a pocket she pulled a handful of little purple balls. To the magister's utter confusion, she tossed one in the air, and then another, and then began juggling all five in a breathless cascade.
"Don't everyone stop and stare!" she shouted. "Corypheus! Meet Urthemiel!"
With that, she threw a ball at Corypheus, hitting him squarely on the nose. Two, three, four, and five followed. The magister exploded in outrage. Maude scooped up her juggling balls and ran circles around him, while he shot actinic bolts of lightning after her. The air smelled of ozone and frost. The Wardens jeered and dodged, while Hawke and his friends went in for the kill. The dogs bayed, running in and out, nipping at the magister's ankles.
The end, when it came, was anticlimactic. Corypheus was trying to roast Osbeck in his armor, when Hawke leaped at him from behind and spitted him on his sword. The point exploded out through the magister's ribs in a bloody spray. Corypheus cried out and shuddered, and then fell, first to his knees, cursing in his ancient tongue, and then sideways, dead.
Maude stood over the creature, immensely pleased, and gave Hawke a hearty back slap.
"Ooo! Well done, that." She leaned closer, spotted gold, and ripped an amulet from the scrawny dead neck. "You shouldn't touch this," she informed Hawke. "It's all Tainted and Blightish."
Ambrose and Bethany had no such limitations. They passed the trinket from hand to hand, studying the arcane symbols.
"Corypheus really was a Tainted ancient magister," Ambrose marveled. "I always thought the Chantry's story of the origins of the darkspawn was just a myth."
"It might still be," Maude pointed out. "It could be allegory. It could be that Corypheus was totally off his head. And even if it's true, it doesn't justify the Chantry punishing mages a thousand years later."
Fenris stepped forward, his handsome face tense with loathing. "But the Tevinter magisters are a breed apart. You do not know them as I do. If this is what they sprang from, then much is now explained."
Loghain took a brief look at the aftermath and started making plans. All the magical fields appeared to be have sputtered into nothing. They needed to retrieve Janeka, find their wagons, have a hot meal, and head back to Kirkwall. After that...
"You did well, Loghain," Larius said, his voice deep and steady. Loghain was surprised to find the ghoul standing next to him. "More than the Wardens of old could accomplish. I will never forget what you did here."
Loghain looked at him keenly. "You sound different," he remarked.
"My head is clear now. I can think again. My gratitude you have for my freedom."
Maude paused, and studied the ghoul from the corner of her eye, her head down. She walked quickly over to the Hawkes, where Bethany was healing her brother's arm.
"Freedom?' Loghain said, wiping his sword. He was puzzled. What freedom could a Warden so Tainted hope for? Did he not still hear the Calling? "Do you intend to go to Orzammar and—"
Hawke was on them in a quick, silent rush. The pommel of his sound smashed into the back of Larius' head, and as the ghoul fell, Hawke sheared off his head with a single blow.
Loghain was falling backwards, grabbed from behind. He crashed to the floor, and heard an "Oooof!" as his fall was broken by something softer than stone. Unholy yells and barking rose up in response to Hawke's attack. A thin black mist floated away from Larius' corpse, and then dissipated in the cool breeze.
"Ow! Loghain, you weigh a ton!" Maude complained. "Get off me!"
"What have you done?" shouted Valentine. "You killed a Warden!"
Hawke and his friends backed away, weapons raised. Tainted blood dripped from Adam's sword. Bethany looked back and forth between her brother and her Warden friends, not sure what to do.
"Everybody calm down!" Maude shouted, her voice vibrating with power. She bounced to her feet, grinning at Loghain. "I asked Hawke to do that."
"Why?" was the general shout.
"Yes, Maude," Loghain said more mildly. "Explain please. Not that Hawke didn't do that poor creature a favor. He spoke of freedom, but we could not allow him to leave this place to carry Blight disease. Speaking of which, Hawke, be careful to avoid the blood of Larius as well as that of the magister."
Hawke relaxed slightly, and gave Loghain a nod.
Maude said, "Corypheus played a little trick on us. My fellow Wardens must have noticed how hard it was to force ourselves to land a blow. Right up to the last moment, in fact. And then Larius stands up straight and starts talking like a book. 'My gratitude you have for my freedom?' What kind of old-fashioned construction is that? But mostly, I could still feel Corypheus. I could feel him before we reached the tower, I could feel him when he first spoke to us, and I could feel him after we seemed to kill him. But now I don't. He thought he'd escape by taking over Larius' weakened mind and body and then walk out of here. Ha on him. We've killed him, and now we take all his stuff."
"Sounds good to me," Isabela agreed.
Maude tossed the ancient Tevinter amulet into the air and caught it with quick juggler's fingers. Then she tossed it to Loghain.
"A souvenir of the Free Marches."
Loghain studied the sinister, glittering object. "If you're done with your treasure-hunting, perhaps we can now go home."
"Kirkwall first," Maude said cheerfully. "A bath, a fine dinner at the Viscount's expense, and complete idleness. That would be nice. We can loaf in Varric's mansion, with absolutely nothing to do."
"That would certainly have the charm of novelty, I suppose." He gave the Tantervale Wardens a grim look. "Though we still need to write a letter to your Commander. A rude one."
Thanks to my reviewers: Phygmalion, Kira Kyuu, Zemmiphobia, Kagehoshi, KnightOfHolyLight, Isabeau of Greenlea, Mike3207, Anime-StarWars-fan-zach, lynn-writer, EpitomyofShyness, Josie Lange, stainglasspeppermint, JackOfBladesX, Jenna53, mille libri, Zute, gingergen, Oleander's One, Shakespira, Enaid Aderyn, and sizuka2.
While I have used quite a bit of dialogue from the Legacy DLC, I have not replicated the action in its entirety. Some of the mechanics are just too repetitive and implausible, and as always, Maude has her own take on things. Let us say this was adapted from the DLC.
At the temple of Dumat, Maude neither makes the offering, nor defiles the altar, since she wants to keep the interesting artifacts they found.