All Roads Lead to Denerim

by Sparrow Nightrunner

All Origins may be true, but that doesn't mean it'll be easy to take out that pesky archdemon. Between a xenophobic Dalish, a reformed playboy, a mage prodigy with a bad temper, and others, getting through the Blight without strangling one another (or Alistair, for that matter) will be hard enough.

63. Strength of Willpower

63. Strength of Willpower

Percy felt… empty. Like a vessel that had been completely drained. No anger. No sadness. No pain. Just… nothing. He was too tired to feel.

The ceiling above him was high. Windows lined the top of the wall, revealing a starry night sky beyond. The air smelled of corruption and filth.

Something cold touched his ear, and he turned to see Hugo nuzzling into him. The hound whined and licked his nose. The man reached a hand up and stroked the dog's muzzle.

"Percy? Are you all right?"

He turned his head to see Felicity pulling herself to her feet nearby, watching him with concern. Next to her sat Alistair, rubbing his head and getting his bearings.

He turned back to the ceiling, pondering the healer's question. Was he all right? Just what was 'all right' anyway?

He wasn't all right. He hadn't been all right for a long time. Ever since Highever, he'd been a mess. In his depression, he'd been a burden. In his anger, he'd been a risk. And now, his soul had been used to sustain a demon against his fellow Wardens… because he'd been too weak to turn his back on the obvious illusions.

He couldn't let that happen again. He had to pull himself together. They were dead, and he had a new life now. He had a duty to the people of Ferelden, and he couldn't perform it while living in the past. He had to do as Garott had said so long ago… and get over it.

"Oh goody." Alistair's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "He's back to his 'strong silent type' act."

"I'm thinking," Percy said. He sat up, one hand running idly through Hugo's fur.

Felicity knelt in front of him and reached out a hand to feel his forehead. He winced at the touch, but allowed it. "You seem to be well enough. Are you feeling any aftereffects?"

He shrugged. "Just tired."

"So does this mean we're done?" Alistair asked. He walked over to the spot the Sloth Demon had been standing before it had sent them to the Fade. "We killed the demon? We can actually get on with it now?"

"Yes, Alistair," Felicity said with a small smile, standing. "We can get on with it now."

Percy pushed himself to his feet, feeling an unnerving calm settle over him. He hadn't felt calm since… before everything had happened. Was this what resolution felt like? It wouldn't be easy, but perhaps a bit of focus was what he needed.

"Maybe it's time we all get on with it," he muttered, invoking curious looks from the pair. He didn't offer an explanation, and they didn't ask.

Alistair cautiously stepped out of the little room they'd attempted the ritual in. His sword raised, the ex-Templar walked down the corridor and peeked through the open door into the floor's central chamber.

He jerked back with a yelp as Leliana turned out of the doorway at the same time. The bard laughed.

"Maker, Leliana! Don't sneak up on me! I almost lopped your head off!"

"Don't worry; I would have ducked. I may be able to sneak, but you are louder than a bear wearing bells, no?"

"Yes, well… you try walking around quietly with metal plates strapped to your legs." Alistair pouted, and both women laughed.

Percival shouldered past them and stepped into the chamber, noting the gummy patches of corrupted slime covering the walls and floor. This might have been their tomb, had the others been as weak-minded as him.

Never again, he resolved.

Marnan and the old woman from his dream knelt next to another, prone figure. He stopped, startled to see the old woman out of the Fade. He'd thought she was a part of it, but apparently not.

He didn't recognize the robed figure they knelt over at all. Whatever was going on there, the old woman didn't look happy about it. Her head was bowed, and she and Marnan both wore grim expressions.

Hugo sniffed the air, his hackles up. Still, he stayed quiet and close to Percy's side, as loyal and protective as ever. It made the noble insanely grateful for his hound, and he resolved never to doubt the mabari's instincts again.

Felicity and Alistair came through the door behind him, the pair keeping a rather conspicuous distance from one another. Felicity immediately cried out and ran to the prone form.

"Oh no! Wynne, what happened?"

The old woman shook her head grimly, cradling the man's head. "He's gone."

"Oh, Niall! After he worked so hard to save us, too!"

Percy remembered the prone figure now, though vaguely through the haze of that last battle. This man had done… something. He couldn't really remember. And it had cost the man his life. Again, something that wouldn't have been necessary if Percy had just been strong enough to resist the demon.

Rage spiked through him, and he stifled his frustrated growl before it could leave his throat. Just one more way his weaknesses had caused harm. Hugo quirked his head up at him in concern, and Percy patted his hound's head. Then, he stepped forward to watch the room's other exit while the rest fussed over the corpse.

"It must have been hard," Leliana's voice said softly. She moved to stand next to Percy, her eyes searching his face. "To lose all that."

He grit his teeth against the rush of pain, and cut it off abruptly before it could get to him. They were gone. He had a new life. "Are you looking for a confession, sister?"

"It helps to talk, sometimes."

"Not in this, it doesn't. This is best left forgotten."

"Surely, you can't mean that. Our memories are what make us who we are."

"Perhaps that is the problem," he said softly. He could hear the others moving up behind them, and he didn't want them to hear.

She got the point. Her eyes widened, but she closed her mouth and didn't press any further.

He turned to the approaching group. "Are we ready to move on?"

They nodded. The old woman said, "We need to find First Enchanter Irving. If he is not here, then the last place he could be is above us, in the Harrowing Chamber."

"Although I'd like to stay a bit longer and talk about Marnan," Alistair teased. "Specifically, Marnan in a dress. Why, just a couple jewels and you would have been quite the beautiful princess."

Marnan looked at him flatly, though her eyes carried some mirth. "I have my axe back, you know."

"Right. Shutting up."

"Still," Leliana giggled. "The look on your face when Percival kissed your hand…! One would think you'd never been greeted like that before!"

"That is because I had not. Any man who would have dared back in Orzammar knew my reputation well enough to know I would have punched him in the face for trying."

"You had a reputation?" Percy asked.

"She's a princess."

"Leliana!" Wynne chided. "That is not your secret to tell."

Everyone glanced at Percy, because he was apparently the only one who didn't already know. He shrugged. "I'm supposed to be impressed that she has a bit of blue blood? Shall I remind you what color mine is?"

Felicity chuckled. "Good point."

Wynne looked confused. "And what color is that?"

"Oh, right. I suppose we should introduce you properly," Felicity said. "Wynne, meet Percival Cousland. Percy, this is Senior Enchanter Wynne. She's the healer who patched Meila up at Ostagar."

He bowed his head, and Wynne arched an eyebrow, no doubt recognizing his surname.

"It seems the Grey Wardens have more than their share of nobility, then."

Alistair cleared his throat nervously. "Speaking of which… this may be a bad time to mention this, but-"

CRASH.

"…oh for Andraste's sake! You've got to be kidding me!"

The rest of them were already moving. Marnan opened the door into the corridor beyond, and Hugo charged ahead, barking.

Percy rounded the corner and skidded to a stop, startled to find a dragon, of all things. Well, not a full dragon. A drake.

"Oh wonderful," Alistair groaned behind him. "I always wanted to fight something that could bite me in half."

Hugo was already leaping at the creature's throat, so Percy didn't waste any time in charging him. Marnan was right behind him, and the two fanned out to either of the creature's flanks. His sword bounced off the drake's tough scales with its first swipe, but he didn't hesitate to thrust his sword in again, trying to get underneath the scales.

There was a flurry of high-pitched growls, and a half dozen baby dragons rounded the corner ahead. Alistair rushed to meet them.

The drake's head came around with a growl, and its teeth sank into Percy's shoulder. The pain fanned the heat inside him and spurred him into a rage—even as he felt healing magic flow through him—and he used the extra strength of anger to plunge his blade right through the creature's tough scales into its throat. It shrieked, dropped Percy's arm as it tossed its head back. Marnan's axe cut its spinal cord in half at the back of its neck, and it collapsed.

Percy's body still burned for blood, but he stepped back and managed to tamp it down as the others cleaned off the last of the dragonlings.

"What do you suppose a nest of dragons is doing here?" Felicity asked, kneeling next to the felled drake. Her hands traced the scales reverently.

"No doubt Uldred put them here as guardians," Wynne said.

Alistair furrowed his brow, prying the last of the baby dragons off his sword. "Can blood mages do that?"

"Not blood mages. But one of the Libertarians under his command was a respected draco-biologist who may have had a few spare eggs lying about." Wynne sighed. "Uldred must have been planning this for months, to be able to bring a drake in."

"Well… let's hope his other means of protection are a bit less… creative."

Fortunately, they were. The party fought their way through a final room of demons—rather cathartic, as far as Percy was concerned—before entering a chamber that had a staircase… and a Templar within a glowing cage.

The Templar turned as they entered, and his face immediately twisted. "This trick again? I know what you are! It won't work! I'll stay strong!"

Felicity looked caught between shock and heartbreak. "Cullen?" Alistair jerked in surprise.

His head was bowed but he watched them with a narrowed gaze. "Begone, illusions! I will be no more fooled by this one than any of the last!"

"Cullen, it's me!" Felicity stepped up to the barrier. "What's the matter? What have they done to you?"

"Stop it, I said!" The Templar fell to his knees and clasped his head, his voice strained. "Andraste grant me strength! How far they must have delved into my thoughts… Enough visions! If anything in you is human, kill me now and stop this game!"

Percy winced, knowing too well what such despair felt like.

"This is your old boyfriend?" Alistair asked Felicity with obvious hostility.

Felicity burst into tears, still staring at the broken Templar.

Percy said coldly, "He is fighting the blood magic. He must be far stronger than any of the other Templars."

"Cullen…" Felicity whispered.

"You broke the others," Cullen gasped, "but I will stay strong. For my sake, for theirs…" His voice fell to muttering, and there was madness in it. "Sifting through my thoughts… tempting me with the one thing I always wanted but could never have… The ill-advised forbidden affair… a mage of all things! I am so tired of these cruel jokes!" His voice broke into more sobs. "…these tricks…. These…" He broke down into weeping, obviously near his limit.

"This is horrible," Leliana whispered. "There must be something we can do for him."

Felicity nodded resolutely, though tears still streamed down her face. "Cullen… Cullen, listen to me. We can get out out of there."

"Begone, I said! Why are you still here? I've always been able to banish you before!" His voice cracked in panic. Percival could only imagine what sorts of tortures would bring a man to the edge like this. This was a man who had lost everything and then more; that, Percy knew from experience.

"I don't know if letting him out in this state is a good idea," Marnan said. She watched him with narrowed eyes.

"We can't leave him," Leliana protested. "He's in pain!"

"He's completely off his nut, that's what he is!" Alistair said. "You'd let loose someone who's obviously lost most of his marbles? He might be dangerous!"

Percy gave him a hard glare. "You'd chain me up as well, then?"

"That's… that's completely different!"

"Come, Alistair," Percy said coldly. "We all know what your real problem with him is."

Alistair's eyes widened, but he seemed unable to come up with a response.

Wynne stepped up behind Felicity. "Miss Amell, is this true? Were you and this man truly…?"

"Yes," Felicity said. She turned from the Templar—who had bowed his head and seemed to be trying to pretend they weren't there—and faced the rest of them. "Cullen and I were… together. We never got farther than a couple kisses shared behind the stacks, but…" She cast a glance back at the Templar, biting her lip. "… but I still hate to see him in such a state."

"What can we do? I know of no way to break this spell over him."

"I do. Niall, he… he found the Litany of Adralla."

Wynne's eyes widened. Apparently, that meant something to mages. "You have it?"

"I've memorized it. I can use it to break the mental hold the blood mages obviously still have on Cullen."

"Would that stop him believing us illusions and attacking us?" Marnan asked pointedly.

"I think we can defend ourselves," Percy said. He nodded to Felicity. "I say release him. He'd be a strong ally, if he's got this sort of mental resistance."

"Maybe he's even Grey Warden material, no?" Leliana said.

"No, I think not," Alistair grumbled.

Felicity turned back to the trapped Templar. "Cullen, I'm going to cleanse your mind." This invoked no response, and she seemed taken aback. Again, she bit her lip before saying, "I just want you to know that I'm sorry. For the way things happened between us."

"You think to use that against me? That I care?" Cullen's voice growled, and his eyes, when raised, dripped with contempt. "If you've sifted through my thoughts, then you know I'm glad she cut it off… that I was never allowed to get so attached to her… a mage!" He said the word the same way Percy said Howe.

"Cullen!" She yelped, aghast.

"What a fool I was! But the Maker knows my sins, and I pray he will forgive me!"

"Cullen, you loved me."

"Love?" Cullen sprang to his feet, sneering. "No, never. It was the foolish fancy of a naive boy. I know better now."

Felicity started crying again, and Percy wasn't surprised to see Alistair's sword come out. "Don't you speak to her like that!"

"Is this your new thrall, mage? Your new bit of meat to puppet around?"

Alistair stepped right up to the barrier, so that only the thin glowing shield separated them. "How dare you! Felicity is one of the gentlest, most caring people in Ferelden. I don't care what those blood mages did to you. You will not speak to her like that. Is that clear?"

Percy arched an eyebrow, because he'd heard royals give orders with less authority in their voices.

Cullen looked around them with narrowed eyes, and Percy was glad to see that he actually appeared to see them now. Felicity, her face in her hands. Leliana, jaw dropped in shock. Wynne and Marnan, looking back at the man with equally guarded expressions.

Percy, himself, knew what it was like to lose control of oneself… to have one's entire worldview flipped in one cataclysmic event. He couldn't be angry at this man for lashing out. It would be hypocrisy.

"So you would have me believe you are real," Cullen said sharply. "That you came here? Why? Who are you, that you would fight through four floors of demons for a couple mages?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Percy said simply, and the Templar's face snapped to his. "We came here in search of aid for the Blight. Obviously, we met with some obstacles."

"The Grey Wardens… yes." Cullen turned his eyes back to Felicity. "They'd said you left to join them. Then this is… not an illusion?"

"No." It seemed Percy was the only one capable of words at the moment. "We are real, and we will get you out to prove it."

"What?!" Alistair whirled on him. "Are you insane?! After all those nasty things he just said to Felicity, you still want to free this bastard?!"

"You'd leave a man to blood magic just because he's been traumatized into hating that very thing which traumatized him?" Percy said coldly back. "Perhaps you'd better leave me in there as well, then. At least he has some mental fortitude."

"Percy, this is not about you!"

"No, it's about mustering every possible ally we can against the Blight. We're Grey Wardens, and Grey Wardens do what we must to fight the darkspawn. That includes helping people who may not be very nice."

"I… agree," Wynne said reluctantly.

"You've both completely lost your minds!" the ex-Templar protested.

"Alistair," Felicity's voice said softly, and the ex-Templar immediately spun back to her, his face softening. Shakily, she said, "I agree with them. I'd still like to free him."

Alistair's voice was gentle, and he reached out to hold her elbow supportively. "After what this bastard just said to you…?"

"I… I know." She wiped her tears from her eyes. "But Percival is right. We can't leave him under the blood mage spell any longer than necessary."

Alistair's lips pursed, but his eyes shone with an emotion that made Percy honestly uncomfortable. "You're too damned compassionate for your own good," he said thickly, but nonetheless pulled away.

She stepped up to the barrier and closed her eyes. Then, she started chanting. At first, it sounded like a prayer that might have been pulled straight from the Chant. However, as it went on, Percy felt something in his head loosen, like a collar that had slipped a notch. He could tell from the startled looks around him that the others felt the same.

Cullen watched her distrustfully, but the strain in his features slowly ebbed as some of what had been tormenting him faded. By the time Felicity's voice stopped and the mage opened her eyes, Cullen's expression had changed to wonder and relief.

"Finally," the Templar sighed, hanging his head. One hand rubbed his forehead. "I had forgotten what having my thoughts to myself felt like."

"How long have you been under their spells?" Felicity asked.

Cullen's head snapped up, and he again regarded her through narrowed eyes. After a moment, he answered. "I'm… not sure. Since they took over the Tower. They caught a bunch of us… put us in cages and tormented us. I'm the only one left."

Wynne stepped forward. "What did they do with the mages?"

"What, you mean the ones who didn't join them?" The Templar scoffed. "They were rounded up too. He's been turning them into abominations… but then, if you got this far, you already know that."

"What of Irving?" Wynne pressed. "Have you seen the First Enchanter?"

"I haven't seen anyone except what they conjured up to torment me!" he snapped. "And even if I had, what would it matter? Every mage involved in this disaster could be corrupted by now, either a blood mage or possessed!"

"That's not true," the enchanter said with forced calm. "I am not a blood mage, nor am I being controlled by any demon."

"And how would we know that?" The Templar looked her over suspiciously. "That's the insidious thing about blood mages: you can never tell who's made the deal until they stab themselves and make you dance like a marionette."

"There must be some way to tell," Marnan said with a frown.

"No, the only way to defeat the blood mages… to be absolutely sure… is to kill every mage in that chamber."

Gasps sounded from around the party.

"Kill everyone?" Leliana squeaked. "Surely, there must be some uncorrupted! The Maker would never allow-"

"The Maker is the one who bids us to cast those creatures down," Cullen growled. "Magic shall serve man, not the other way around. So spoke Andraste when she cast out the Tevinter magisters, and so must we uphold that law now!"

"You know, I was considering maybe letting you out of this cage," Alistair said. "But now I really can't say I want to."

"You can do that?" Marnan asked.

"Templars are trained to dispel this sort of thing," Alistair said, glaring at Cullen. "Which begs the question of why he hasn't broken out himself… I'm betting they took away his lyrium. Is that why you're so cranky, Cullen: no regular doses of lyrium to take the edge off?"

Cullen returned the glare. "And just what are you supposed to be, then? Some failed Templar who couldn't make it through training?"

"No, much better. I'm a Grey Warden, which means I'm in my full rights to leave you in there to rot, if I think it helps Thedas. And you know what? I'm pretty sure it does."

"Alistair," Felicity chided softly. "Free him."

"Yes, listen to your mistress," Cullen sneered, "like the loyal dog that you are."

Hugo whined in confusion.

"Do I have to, Felicity?" Alistair whined. "He's such an ass."

Despite everything, she smiled. "Yes, Alistair. You have to."

Alistair sighed, but nonetheless bowed his head and put a hand to his forehead. His face relaxed into a meditative expression, and for a moment Percy wondered that he was about to fall asleep.

Then, Alistair pulsed. A blast of energy came out of him, and the barrier fizzled out under it. This left them blinking at a possibly hostile Templar with a grudge against mages in a room with two mages.

Percy found himself relieved, despite that.

"I… didn't really expect you to do it," Cullen admitted carefully. "My mind is my own, and yet… I still thought this might have been a trick."

"Yes, well," Alistair grumbled. "We're just fine upstanding citizens like that."

"You're Grey Wardens, you said. You're looking for an army?" Cullen glanced around at them, his gaze turning to rest on Percy. "If you kill the mages… annul the Tower, we Templars won't have to guard it." Several voices around the room protested, but he rolled right over them. "We will be able to march beside you in full force. No fear of corruption, or blood magic. None of those dangerous magic spells."

"Magic is one of the most important elements of pitching a war against the darkspawn," Marnan protested. "Without their healing and crowd control abilities, we stand no chance at breaking through to the archdemon."

Cullen spun quickly on her. Percy did not miss the sight of Alistair stepping protectively in front of Felicity. "So you'd trust the lives of your army to mages?"

"Yes, I would."

"Have you not seen how easily corruptible they are? The abominations that roamed this tower—that you no doubt had to wade through just to get here—were all once mages. All of whom succumbed to the demons that are drawn to them like moths to flame! The mages can't help but be possessed!"

Percival was reminded of Connor, and he couldn't really argue the point, there. Still, without mages like Felicity, Kazar, and Morrigan, their chances against the darkspawn were decidedly slimmer.

For a moment, he imagined what would happen if a demon dared to approach Morrigan in the Fade. The idea of her disdainful outrage at such a creature, and then prompt brutal destruction of it, gave him a surprising amount of hope for the rest of them.

"And should such mages turn on us," Percival said, "we will slay them accordingly. Until then, they're useful."

"I… see. You will not take my advice." Cullen sighed, looking around at them. "Then perhaps it is best if I remain here, rather than accompanying you into the Harrowing Chamber." He eyed Felicity's dejected form, until Alistair moved to block his view. "No matter how much I'd love to kill that cretin, Uldred… I fear that once I start killing mages, I won't be able to stop."

"Then guard the exit," Percy suggested. "If any of the blood mages escape, be sure to lop their heads off."

Cullen's hand fell to his sword. "That order, I will gladly follow."

They left him there, simmering, and climbed the stairs to the final floor. Felicity was still oddly quiet, but that was understandable.

They walked in on some sort of ritual in progress. A handful of mages were arranged in a circle around the room, their hands magically bound and their forms sparking with magical energy—painful magical energy, judging by how they tossed around. In the middle of the room was a man and a handful of abominations, all clustered around another sparking mage. This man writhed and screamed, until the mage directing the ritual stepped up and grabbed his chin.

"Do you accept the gift that I offer?" he said sternly, as if this wasn't the first time asking the question.

The tortured mage gave the tiniest of nods, and the man let him drop to the ground. The mage lay there, crumpled, while the man and a duo of abominations circled above him. As one, the unholy trio raised their arms and thrust magic into him that seethed with evil even from a distance, and the mage started screaming again.

Percy had to look away for the brightness of the light. The screaming stopped, and Percy turned back to see an abomination climbing to his feet where the mage had been a moment before.

"That," Alistair muttered, "was something I never needed to see."

"It's horrible," Leliana agreed.

The man who had been directing the ritual turned toward them, followed by his trio of abominations. "Ah… look what we have here: intruders," he said silkily. "I bid you welcome. Care to join in our revels?"

"Uldred, how could you?" Wynne said softly.

"Where I come from," Marnan said, stepping forward and addressing the mage, "revels involve more alcohol and less evil magic. They do tend to involve a lot of head smashing, though, if you're interested."

"How very… old-fashioned. I am rather impressed that you're still alive. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants." The grin on the madman's face was so oily, it made Percy yearn for a bath. "Ah, well. They are probably better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence."

If Morrigan had been there, she would likely have hexed him then and there.

"Those were once people, you monster!" Leliana growled in an uncharacteristically hard tone.

"And now they are something better," Uldred replied quickly. "A mage is but the larval form of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies us—calls us abominations—when we have truly reached our full potential!"

"Abominations?" Alistair said skeptically. "That's your full potential?"

"Look at them!" Uldred gestured around, at the mages still held captive. "They deny themselves the pleasure of becoming something glorious!"

"You're mad!" Wynne said. "There's nothing glorious about what you've become, Uldred!"

The mage laughed. "Uldred? He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was." He smirked at the elder mage. "I could give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted it."

"Yeah, no," Alistair said. "I think I speak for all of us when I say, 'take your glorious transformation and shove it up your nose'. Then suffocate on it."

The blood mage laughed again. "Such confidence! Do you not realize what you're up against? How much resistance I've already put down? Why, even the First Enchanter couldn't resist me forever." He gestured to one of the mages: one who was old and grey. "Isn't that right, Irving?" The mage shuddered, trapped.

"What have you done to him?" Wynne gasped.

"Stop him…" Irving gasped. "He… is building an army…"

"You're a sly little fox, Irving," Uldred interrupted. "Telling on me like that." He turned back to them with a shrug. "And here I thought he was starting to turn."

"There's still hope," Felicity whispered. "If we bring the First Enchanter back to the Knight-Commander unharmed, we'll be able to stop the Right of Annulment."

Percy whispered under his breath, "Hugo, guard the old man." The hound wagged his tail in understanding.

The man was still talking. "…wander around this tower, knowing you are a pawn of the templars? You are a thorn in my side, and I must remove you before you fester!"

Leliana wrinkled her nose. "Ew."

"I cannot let you leave, but… killing you? Such a waste." He looked around at them all with a sly grin. "Such raw potential, with the strength of demons behind it, would be unstoppable. I can do that. I can give you power, and a new life."

Percy felt temptation tug at him at the mention of a new life… but he would be damned if he would let it come at the hands of a demon. He turned to look at the others. Marnan, Leliana, Wynne, Felicity… no one was taken in by the offer, and Percy had never felt so proud to be a Grey Warden.

Alistair smirked. "Smash him to abominable little pieces?"

"Smash him to abominable little pieces," Marnan agreed.

"I call dibs on the abominations," Percy said, stretching his arms in preparation.

"Fight if you must," Uldred said snidely. "It will just make my victory all the sweeter." He motioned to his abominations, and they needed no more prompting than that.

Percy was true to his word and immediately went in to intercept the abominations that came toward them. A swooping blow from his sword caught two of them across the chests, and he turned to jab at the third, just to get its attention.

There was a roar from Uldred's direction, and, from the corner of his eye, Percy saw the blood mage transform into a Pride Demon. It was far larger and more fearsome than any of the religious texts he'd read growing up could have conveyed. Still, he trusted Alistair and Marnan to hold the demon down… he had to keep these three off the mages.

As he shifted into a defensive stance between the trio of abominations, he could hear Felicity's voice above the din. She recited the Litany continuously, her voice echoing around the chamber.

One of the abominations leapt at his back and latched on, its acrid breath against the back of his neck. He reversed his sword and stabbed back, impaling it, and it shrieked in his ear. He slid to the side as the other two lunged in at him, and he raised his shield. One bounced off, but the other slammed into his sword arm as he was bringing it back around.

He winced as he felt the creature's claws digging through the joints of his armor. He stepped into its grip, elbowing it right in the solar plexus. Its grip loosened, and he swung his sword into one of its arms, slicing it open. The abomination skidded back, and Percy ducked away, raising sword and shield to slam into another of the creatures that came in on him. He parried an arm swipe with his sword, then slid in to plunge his blade deep into the abomination's heart. It collapsed.

That left two, one hunkered over its stabbed stomach and the other with a bleeding arm. Percy wasted no time in circling around the one he'd stabbed. It tried to turn to meet him, but he was too fleet of foot. He pressed his shield against the monster's side to throw it off balance. It tipped a bit, and Percy stabbed its thigh in its weakness. It threw its hands out at him, but a kick to the injured leg sent it sprawling. He plunged his sword into its back, and it fell still.

He turned for the last abomination, only to see it pinned to the floor nearby by an arrow through each foot. He sent Leliana a salute, and started toward it.

Then, the Litany suddenly stopped. "ALISTAIR!"

Percy spun to see what caused such panic in the healer's voice. Alistair was suspended in the air in front of Pride Demon, his head thrown back in a soundless scream. The demon laughed, squeezing his fist together, and Alistair's armor crumpled inward, crushed by an invisible force. Then, Alistair dropped limply to the ground, and the demon turned to the rather startled-looking Marnan.

Percival was already moving in their direction as he heard Wynne call, "Felicity, the Litany!" Stutteringly, Felicity's voice resumed its chant, though there was a tight, worried undercurrent to it now.

Percy reached the Pride Demon as it was encasing the dwarf's feet in frost. Marnan fought valiantly, but only got one leg free before it batted her across the room like a rejected toy.

What arrogance this demon exuded! Percy found that pit of rage burning in him and stoked it, mustering his anger until the heat suffused his limbs. He stabbed his sword into its lower back, and the demon hissed and spun on him. He danced back from the mighty swipe, pushing the arm away with his shield so he could jab into the creature's thigh.

It laughed, and he growled. He felt a blast of fire hit him straight on, but the burning on his skin was nothing compared to that inside him. He growled again and plunged into the blast. The demon howled as his sword impaled its hand clean through.

The demon raised its impaled hand, and Percy, strengthened by his anger, gripped the hand with sword and shield and went up in the air with it. He swung his legs up and kicked the demon full-force in the face. It roared again and flung him away.

He landed roughly against the stone, his left shoulder jarring and making an unnerving popping noise. It dangled uselessly as he shoved himself to his feet, and the pulsing pain from it served to cover everything in a red haze.

With a growl, he let his shield drop to the floor and charged the demon again. He barely registered that Marnan was back to swiping at it with her axe, looking none the worse for wear—having two healers did seem to have its benefits.

His vision red, he slid right through the gigantic monster's legs, cutting its belly open from below. It raised a leg to stomp on him, but stone wrapped around the elevated leg, petrifying it. A spell bolt and an arrow hit it in the back in quick succession.

Marnan swept her axe into the frozen leg, tearing it open to the bone, and Percy slashed at its chest. The demon's arms flailed, and fire burst from the creature. Both melee fighters were tossed aside… which was just as well, because a flurry of spells came at it from all directions.

The Litany rang through the air, and Percy could see the mages around the room bursting free of their prisons. One by one, each threw the most destructive spell they knew at the abomination, lighting up the room with lightning, light, fire, and all manner of other things that Percy could not comprehend. The Pride Demon screamed, giant patches of its body smoking under the assault.

A final arrow from Leliana pierced its heart and the demon's form twisted in a fiery swirl of smoke and ash. It fell to its knees in the cloud, and when the haze lifted, Uldred's body was all that was left.

"Alistair!" Felicity ran across the chamber to where the ex-Templar had crumpled. Her hands shoved a series of healing spells into him. Too panicked to think it through, apparently.

Marnan, who had some sense, knelt on Alistair's other side and started working his crushed armor off, because no amount of healing was going to help if the man couldn't breathe properly.

Percy was startled when he felt something touching his shoulder. He vision flashed red and he spun on his attacker… only to see Wynne, watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"Your shoulder appears to be dislocated. Might I set it, or are you determined to walk around with it like that for the rest of the day?"

He forced down his rage and wrapped himself in calm again. "I… yes. Thank you, that would be appreciated."

She tutted and bent to inspect the shoulder. "Such manners, now of all times? I must say you are a most strange young man." She gently touched the shoulder, and he hid a wince. "I will reset it now. This will likely hurt."

It did, although her healing magic dulled the pain quickly, at least.

"Fe-Felicity?" Alistair's voice wheezed. The man was awake, it seemed. He was still a limp puddle on the ground, though now the healer had his head in her lap. The look they were sharing was so intensely private that Percy looked away.

Instead, he followed Wynne as the older woman moved toward the First Enchanter. The man sat on the floor, breathing hard. Hugo licked the mage's face encouragingly.

This 'Irving' looked up at them wryly as they approached. "Maker, I'm too old for this."

"Irving, I'm glad you made it," Wynne said. Percy reached out his non-throbbing arm and helped the old man to his feet.

"For a while there," the old man said, "I feared we might not." Voices rose nearby in agreement: the other mages scattered throughout the chamber. "Thank you, Wynne. And the rest of you." Irving turned a curious look on Percy. "To what do we owe this timely rescue?"

"We're Grey Wardens," Percy explained, glancing around the chamber. The other mages were picking themselves up and checking one another over. Leliana was, of all things, picking through the corpses, while Marnan resolutely ignored her scavenging and studied the downed abomination. And Alistair and Felicity were speaking quietly to one another, quaint little smiles on their faces. Maker, virgins. He turned his attention back to Irving. "We were hoping to recruit aid against the Blight, but, obviously, it didn't go as planned."

"No, I suppose it did not, and for that, we owe you our lives."

"That you do."

Marnan cast him a raised eyebrow as she stepped up beside them. "How many mages survived, do you think?"

Irving and Wynne exchanged thin glances. At last, Wynne said, "Other than the ones in this room, and the survivors down on the first floor, there will also be a few out around Ferelden, pursuing their research and such. Only some of those would be suitable for combat."

"Still," Irving added with confidence, "even a few mages can turn the tide of battle. We will help you fight the darkspawn however we can. It's the least we can do."

Marnan nodded her thanks, always diplomatic. "It is all we can ask."

Percy thought this a good time to break in. "There is one… other matter."

"Yes?"

"You are not the only ones who have had some difficulty with abominations. There is a matter concerning the Arl of Redcliffe that needs raw lyrium. Apparently, his young son is an untrained mage who somehow managed to attract a demon. Now, the entire village is besieged by undead."

"Oh dear," Irving said. "Yes, I can see how that could have happened, if the boy was untrained. How would lyrium help, precisely?"

"Blood magic," Alistair's voice wheezed darkly. He joined the conversation, slung between Felicity and Leliana with an arm around each woman's shoulders.

"There's a malificar at Redcliffe who was attempting to teach the boy," Percy elaborated. "And failing, apparently. He suggested a ritual that can send someone to the Fade."

"Yes, I see," Irving said. "To confront the demon directly. That could work. But to use blood magic…"

"It's either that, or kill the boy," Alistair said. "I just… can't do that. Not when he was just trying to protect Eamon."

Everyone but Percy looked confused by that.

"I think…" Wynne said gently, starting for the door. The rest of them followed. "…that you two had better start from the beginning. You can fill us in during our trip."