With my usual thanks to WellspringCD for her comma-wrangling, advice and support. My thanks to all who continue to take an interest in Fearghal's story.
Haven's chantry stood a little apart from the village, at the side of a steep path which meandered up the mountainside. Zevran peered through one of the windows.
"It looks like the whole village is in there," he told them.
The odd sound of the Chant in a deep male voice could be heard faintly through the doors.
Fearghal pushed the door open and led his party inside. One or two people in the congregation turned to look at them, then looked back to the front.
"... we are blessed beyond measure; we are chosen by the Holy and Beloved to Her guardians."
A grey haired man stood at the front of the chantry, intoning solemnly. He looked up briefly as the newcomers, then carried on.
"This sacred duty is given to us alone; rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to receive her."
"That's new. I've never heard it before," murmured Alistair, frowning.
"It is not part of the Chant," agreed Leliana.
Fearghal marched down the aisle of the chantry. The man's eyes narrowed, then he continued.
"Lift up your voices, and despair not, for She will raise Her faithful servants to glory when Her... "
Fearghal strode right up to the revered father until he was standing almost nose to nose with him, forcing the man to acknowledge his presence.
"Ah... welcome. I heard we had a visitor wandering about the village. I trust you've enjoyed your time in Haven so far?"
Fearghal snorted. "You're going to pretend this village is normal?"
The revered father scowled at him. "We must protect Haven and our charges at all costs. We don't owe you any explanations. We have a sacred duty; failure to protect Her would be a greater sin. All will be forgiven."
Alistair felt a surge of magic flare around the man and yelled "Mage!" before gathering his will and letting loose a burst of energy that sent the man staggering back. As Fearghal and Alistair drew their swords, several heavily armed guards spilled from the vestry at the side of the chantry. The chantry erupted in chaos; women were screaming and children wailing in fear.
A freezing blast howled through the chantry and the charging guards were frozen in place. Fearghal and Alistair swung swords and shields, sending lumps of frozen flesh flying. Alistair turned at a warning shout from Zevran and saw the revered father start to gesture, his lips moving, then the man's eyes went wide as an arrow sprouted from his throat. Desperate hands clawed at his throat, then the mage crumpled.
Fearghal sheathed his sword and turned to the congregation. Women huddled against the chantry walls, clutching their children to them, eyes wide with fear. He half-turned, muttering, "Sheath your weapons." He turned back to the villagers, then frowned. He realised there were hardly any men in the chantry, other than those they had just killed. Two old men huddled amongst the women, one so ancient, he looked like he could hardly stand.
"We mean you no harm," Fearghal assured them. Wary, suspicious eyes looked back at him. "Come, sit back down."
Slowly, the villagers returned to their pews, their fearful eyes never leaving him.
"We are looking for a man called Brother Genitivi." Fearghal's voice turned cold. "We know he was heading here and we know that the men who came looking for him have been murdered."
Fearghal watched them carefully. A woman at the front flicked a nervous glance at the wall, then her eyes snapped back to Fearghal. He frowned as he realised that this chantry was laid out differently. Instead of the usual two side rooms, it only appeared to have one... or did it?
The congregation stared mutely up at Fearghal and he sighed. "Go back to your homes," he said, waving at the door.
"You're letting them go?" asked Morrigan.
"What do you suggest I do, Morrigan? Start torturing them? Anyway, I think I know where he is." Fearghal dragged his eyes away from the retreating villagers briefly to glare at her.
As the last villager departed Fearghal turned to Zevran and Leliana and grinned. "This chantry seems to be missing a room. Do you think you can find it?"
They grinned back at him and moved over to the wall, where there would usually be a doorway, and started running their hands over it.
Leliana gave a small cry of triumph and a section of the wall swung open.
"Zev, keep a watch outside. We don't know where the men are. I don't want to walk out of here to a welcoming committee. Take Bane with you," ordered Fearghal.
Inside the hidden room, a man lay on a narrow cot. Gaunt and hollow-eyed, the man was pale, his skin clammy; he raised himself on his elbows and eyed them nervously.
"They... they've sent you to finish it," he croaked.
"Brother Genitivi?" asked Fearghal.
"You... you're not one of them... thank the Maker!" The man sank onto the cot, his relief obvious.
Fearghal knelt by the cot, pulling his water skin from his belt. He raised Genitivi up and help him drink.
"Thank you," murmured Genitivi.
"You're sick?" asked Fearghal. He caught Morrigan's eye and beckoned her forward with a jerk of his head.
Genitivi chuckled weakly. "My captors haven't been genial hosts. I tried to escape a few days ago when they let me outside for some fresh air, but I slipped. I think my ankle's broken."
Morrigan pulled back the thin blanket that covered the man; one of his feet lay at a crazy angle.
Fearghal gulped at the sight.
"I can't feel my foot," Genitivi said, almost apologetically.
"We need to get the boot off," said Morrigan briskly.
Fearghal was relieved when Alistair knelt at the foot of the bed and started to unbuckle the boot. Although he removed it as carefully as he could, Genitivi groaned in pain as it came off.
"Sorry," mumbled Alistair.
Morrigan pulled the sock off, revealing Genitivi's foot. The foot was almost black and cold to the touch when she put her fingers against it.
Morrigan glanced up at Genitivi. "The ankle is dislocated as well as broken. I need to straighten it or the foot is lost. I will put you to sleep while we straighten it."
Genitivi stared at her uncertainly, then nodded. "As you will."
Morrigan gestured at him, murmuring and he slumped back against the cot. "Fearghal, I need you to hold his leg steady. Can somebody find something to use as a splint and some bandages, please?"
Fearghal shuffled down the cot and placed his hands on Genitivi's shin. Morrigan grasped the foot and twisted it sharply. With a crunch, then a pop it settled into place. Alistair and Leliana handed Morrigan bandages and some firewood to use as splints and she started to strap up the ankle.
"Are you all right, Fearghal?" asked Leliana.
"Yes, it's just... " Fearghal started to rise from the cot and crashed to the floor as the others stared at him.
Alistair dropped the bandages on the bed and crouched down at Fearghal's side. Fearghal was white as a sheet. Morrigan looked unconcerned and moved her hands over Genitivi's foot, blue magic flaring between them.
Alistair watched some of the colour return to Fearghal's face and saw his eyelids flicker.
"Fearghal. can you hear me?"
Fearghal's eyes opened and he blinked up at Alistair. "Wha-what happened?"
"Um... you passed out," Alistair told him trying not to smirk.
Morrigan smirked at Fearghal. "So... the mighty warrior is squeamish?"
Fearghal scowled up at him. "Not usually, it was just the noise... as you twisted... " He closed his eyes again, struggling to control the nausea that was rising again at the memory of the sound Genitivi's ankle had made.
Morrigan stood. "I've done all I can. I don't have Wynne's skill, but I don't think he'll lose the foot."
She gestured at Fearghal, sending a stream of rejuvenating magic flowing into him. Alistair helped Fearghal to his feet.
"Thanks," muttered Fearghal sheepishly as Morrigan brought Genitivi out of the sleep spell.
"How do you feel?" Fearghal asked Genitivi.
"It hurts," he replied, wincing, "but at least I can feel it now."
"I can make you some tea to help with that," Morrigan told him.
While Morrigan busied herself making some herbal tea for Genitivi, Fearghal and Alistair told him why there were there and how they had come to find him. He was distressed to hear of Arl Eamon's illness, but confident that the Ashes of Andraste could revive the arl. He explained that the ancient temple housing the ashes was higher up the mountain. Genitivi was puzzled as to why the villagers had kept him alive for so long and had begun to give up hope that he would ever be rescued. The revered Father, Eirik, had apparently taken great delight in tormenting Genitivi with the details of the knights who had come searching for him, of how they'd been killed. He told them of the 'key' that Eirik carried that would gain them entrance to the temple. Alistair hurried back into the main body of the chantry and searched the man's corpse.
"Is this it?" he asked, holding up an ornate pendant.
Genitivi nodded.
"That's a... strange-looking key," said Fearghal uncertainly.
"There are very few keys like this left in the word, but I have seen some," Genitivi told him. "I'll need to come with you. I doubt that you'll be able to open the way to the temple with it. There's a bit of a knack to it. It's hard to explain."
"You are not to walk on the foot; 'tis not nearly mended," scolded Morrigan, handing a steaming mug to Genitivi.
In the end, Fearghal and Alistair linked arms, forming a seat for Genitivi to sit on. Morrigan's tea had made the scholar sleepy and he lolled first against Fearghal, then against Alistair. Fortunately the path was broad, though steep. By the time they got to the top, however, they were both glad to put their burden down.
Fearghal supported Genitivi as he hopped to the great door set in the mountainside. The scholar slipped the medallion into a slot in the door, wiggling it slightly. He frowned, then smiled and pushed against the door which swung open silently. Fearghal held the excited Genitivi back.
" Zev... make sure there's no-one waiting for us inside please," he ordered.
Genitivi waited impatiently until Zevran returned.
"There is no sign of anyone inside," Zevran reported.
Fearghal helped Genitivi inside, then stopped gaping. They were inside a huge hall. Ice and snow coated the floor and the massive columns supporting the roof. The whole interior sparkled, illuminated by a massive fire that burned brightly in the centre of the hall.
Genitivi's head swivelled this way and that, his eyes like saucers. "Maker's breath! What I would give to have seen this hall in all its splendour, as it was meant to be... " he murmured. "Still, sweep away the ice and snow, and traces of beauty remain."
Fearghal privately disagreed with him, feeling that the ice and snow rather enhanced the hall. He looked up. High above, holes in the vaulted ceiling were visible.
Fearghal pulled himself together. "We can't afford to linger."
Genitivi didn't seem to have heard him. Instead he was staring at a large frieze carved on the wall.
"These carvings were created just after Andraste's death; they may reveal things about her life that we do not yet know... " He looked at Fearghal. "I need more time to study these statues and carvings."
Fearghal considered him for a moment. "That might keep you out of trouble for a bit," he conceded.
Genitivi smiled at him. "I'd only slow you down. I don't think there are any villagers here. I should be quite safe."
"Two of us will stay with you, just in case." Fearghal looked over the group. He definitely wanted Alistair and Morrigan with him. He would have preferred to take Zevran with him too, but Leliana was looking at him with such hope in her eyes he felt it would be cruel to deprive her of the chance to visit Andraste's final resting place.
"Zev,... stay here with Bane and make sure that no further mishaps befall the good brother."
"And don't let him put any weight on that foot," ordered Morrigan sternly.
~o~O~o~
Fearghal, Alistair, Leliana and Morrigan swiftly crossed the rocky ground, staying as close to the big boulders as they could. Above them a great dragon soared, occasionally letting loose an ear-splitting cry that made their hair stand on end. They scurried through the doorway ahead of them, glad to be under cover once more. They rested for a few minutes as they had met stiff resistance on their way through the temple. It appeared that the villagers were part of some kind of dragon cult and believed that the creature roaming the skies outside was Andraste reborn. It had soon become clear where the missing men-folk of Haven were; they had fought with the fervour of fanatics and every battle had been a fight to the death.
Fearghal got to his feet. "Are you ready to continue?"
The others nodded and rose, following him down the long corridor. It opened out into a large open space. At the far end was a door, guarded by a lone figure clad in silverite armour.
Fearghal approached him warily, but the guard made no move for his weapon; instead, his gaze was benevolent and interested as he watched the party approach him.
"I bid you welcome, pilgrim. I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes."
Fearghal heard Leliana gasp behind him.
The guardian smiled at them. "I have waited years for this. It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting, I have been here, and I shall remain until my task is done."
"How do I get to the Urn?" asked Fearghal.
"You have come to honour Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy."
"I need the Ashes to cure a noble man. All of Ferelden may depend on him." Fearghal struggled to keep his impatience in check in the face of the stoic Guardian.
"Still, you must prove yourself worthy. It is not my place to decide your worthiness. The Gauntlet does that. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not..."
"The Gauntlet?" asked Fearghal uncertainly.
"The Gauntlet tells the true pilgrims from the false. You will undergo tests of faith, and we shall see how your soul fares."
"All right, let's get this over with."
"Before you go, there is something I must ask." The Guardian held up his hand, halting Fearghal who was about to move past him. "I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past; your suffering, and the suffering of others. You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?"
The words struck Fearghal like blows. He struggled to get enough air to reply. He wanted to protest, to explain. But it's true.
"Yes," he whispered. "I-I should have defended them to the death."
"Thank you. That is all I wished to know." The Guardian's voice was impassive, held no judgement.
"You are too hard on yourself, Fearghal. I know that you didn't get to make that choice. Duncan..." Alistair was interrupted by the Guardian.
"Alistair, knight and warden... you wonder if things would have been different if you were with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow. You wonder, don't you, if you should have died, and not him?"
"I... yes." Alistair hung his head. "If Duncan had been saved, not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance, maybe..."
"You didn't get to make that choice either, Alistair." Fearghal's voice was hard but Alistair found himself grateful for the words.
"And you," The Guardian turned to Leliana. "Why do you say that the Maker speaks to you when all know that the maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself her equal?"
"I never said that! I... " she protested.
"In Orlais, you were someone; in Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticised you for what you professed you were hurt, but you also revelled in it. It made you special, you enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative. "
"You're saying that I made it up for... for the attention?" Leliana's indignation gave way to certainty. "I did not! I know what I believe."
"And you, Morrigan, Flemeth's daughter. What..."
"Begone, spirit! I will not play your games." Morrigan glared defiantly at the Guardian.
"I will respect your wishes." The Guardian turned to Fearghal. "The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek."
Fearghal led them through the door. They found themselves in a room full of ethereal figures, each with a riddle relating to Andraste. Fearghal allowed himself a small flare of hope. We have a templar and a chantry sister. Maybe this won't be so difficult after all.