Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or any of its related characters. This is just for my own enjoyment and the potential enjoyment of other fans like me, and no monetary gain was expected or received.
Rating: T+
Spoilers: May contain spoilers for Origins, Awakening, Origins DL content, and Dragon Age II as well as the novels The Stolen Throne and The Calling.
Chapter Sixty-Eight: Honnleath
Elilia came to see him off.
The hope that surged up in him was quickly quelled by the fact that she did not actually look at him. She stood by the shoulder of Bloody Big Horse and thrust a piece of parchment and a small object into his hand. It appeared to be a cylindrically-cut gemstone of low quality, imbued with lyrium runes.
"Here," she said.
"What's this?"
"A control rod. Got it from an unlucky merchant named Felix the Fat Boy or something like that years ago. Supposed to be a golem to go along with it, somewhere down south in a village called Honnleath. I never went but it shouldn't be too far out of your way. You know the place?"
"I've never been there, either, but I know of it," he said. "I'm fairly certain it was destroyed in the Blight, though."
"Golem might still be there," she said. "Could be worth a look. The activation words are on the parchment."
He leaned down toward her and spoke in a low voice. "Can't you look at me?" he pleaded, but she turned away.
"Take care," she said, and left. He took it for a good sign but did not hope for much more than that she would be somewhat sad if he died.
Blessed Andraste, I know we haven't had much truck with each other up 'til now, he prayed. Please, if you've any love for me at all, don't let her love for me die. I don't have much beyond that, and without it I am less than nothing and worse than a monster.
He clicked his tongue and Bloody Big Horse walked on, and the party embarked.
Loghain had only the vaguest notion where the village of Honnleath lay, but he knew all the many places where it did not, and that was enough to find the proper road, an unmarked, pitted, and overgrown track in the former Blightlands leading southwest off the Imperial Highway. In the remains of Lothering, the party came upon Master Wade and his assistant Herren, who with Archdemon-bone saw blades were busily chopping up the remains of the giant golden dragon.
They hailed the passersby, and Loghain brought Bloody Big Horse to a stop before the giant corpse. "Looks like slow going," he said.
"Dreadfully," Herren said.
"But just imagine what can be done with such glorious material! Why, my heart is like to burst from joy," Master Wade said. "The Crown has kindly allowed me a generous share of the scale and bone to work with in exchange for crafting the equipment needed to dismember the beast. They even let me have first pick. What an opportunity!"
"Yes. Splendid," Herren said, and rolled his eyes.
"Alistair should be able to sell the rest for a bloody fortune: golden dragon scale will fetch a pretty price with the rich fops who like that sort of thing. Do you think the stuff is workable?"
"Oh, yes - not without difficulties, of course, but that's half the fun!" Wade said. "Of course, any smith who wants to do it will also have to purchase Archdemon bone in order to craft the tools that will be necessary."
"Ha! Another good money-making scheme for the Crown."
Wade suddenly seemed to notice Loghain's attire. "My Lord - why are you not wearing the armor I fashioned for you? Does it not suit? Oh, I knew it - it's dreadful, isn't it? The fittings are wrong, and the leather is splotchy."
"No, Wade, the armor is fine. My boot got a bit crushed in the dragon's jaws: I hadn't found time to bring it to you for repairs." In truth he didn't care about the boot. The armor was heavy and he did not care to burden himself with it, not on a long, relatively peaceful journey.
Wade tossed his head and a hand. "Throw it away. I shall make you new armor from this magnificent beast."
Loghain saw a vision of himself in shining golden armor. "Thank you, Wade, but I'd prefer a simple repair, if possible. Blue is more…my color."
Wade peered at him. "I suppose you are a winter at that. Still it seems a shame not to have some use to put this creature to for the man who slay it. Let me make a sword for you - a beautiful, fantastical golden sword."
The Archdemon bone sword was the most amazing weapon he'd ever wielded. The idea of going one better had appeal. Though Herren frantically pantomimed "Please refuse" at him, he said, "All right. If you can make a better sword than you did for me before, I'll happily pay."
Herren threw up his hands in despair. Wade tossed head and hand again. "Bosh. The payment is in being able to work with such fine material."
"I was afraid he'd say that," Herren said.
As Loghain had feared, the village of Honnleath was nothing more than a burnt-out memory, but the stone golem remained, steadfast in the center of what once must have been the village square. He hadn't seen many golems in his life, but this one was rather on the small side, which is to say that it was about his height or slightly taller.
"Damn. That's the ugliest statue I've ever seen," Varric said, chuckling. "I would think it'd scare the piss out of anyone that used to live here."
"I feel rather sorry for it," Loghain said. "It's covered in bird shit."
He sought out and found the village well, still covered and with rotting rope still intact. He pulled up a bucket of water and splashed it over the golem's shoulders. A decade of dried-on guano was not easy to wash away without cloth for scrubbing, but the construct looked considerably better. Loghain held out the control rod and spoke the words printed on the parchment.
"Dulef gar."
Nothing happened. "I guess it's broken?" Merrill said.
Laz shook her head. "I think you got bum words, Boss - that wasn't dwarven."
"Perhaps Elilia wrote it down wrong," he said. "Pity. I don't suppose you know the proper words, do you?"
"Sorry. I haven't got a clue."
"Varric?"
"Don't look at me, Big Bull. I don't even speak proper Dwarven."
A high, girlish giggle split the air. "I know the proper words," a little girl's voice singsonged. The giggle came again.
"A child? Here?" Bethany said, surprised.
"It could not be," Fenris said. "Be wary: there is foul magic afoot."
A little blonde head poked out from a burnt-out wreck that once was a house. "Why are you trying to wake up Shale?" she asked. "He's a bad golem: he killed my Grandpapa." And then she laughed, as though that were the funniest thing she'd ever said.
"And who might…you be?" Loghain asked, cautiously. There was certainly a strange feeling in his head when he looked at the girl. Almost as if he couldn't quite see her just exactly right.
"Amalia. And I know who you are, too. You're the Hero of River Dane. You fought with Grandpapa waaaaaaay back when." And she giggled again and came skipping out of hiding.
"Oh, what an adorable little girl," Bethany said. The others, even Fenris, seemed utterly taken in by her dimpled cheeks and innocent aura, but something kept tugging at Loghain's mind, insisting that there ought not to be any little girls in Honnleath any longer.
"I have fought with many people, and alongside a few as well. Who was your grandfather?"
"His name was Wilhelm. He was a mage. That was his golem."
Startled, Loghain looked at the golem. The one he remembered was nearly eleven feet tall, while this one couldn't be seven feet. Could Wilhelm's magic shrink a golem? And had the golem really killed him as the girl said?
"Then your wording was correct after all, for I fought both with and alongside your grandfather for many years," he said, almost despite himself. What in the Maker's name was going on here?
"If you want Shale to wake up, you're going to need the magic words," Amalia said. "I'll tell you them, if you agree to take me with you when you leave. It's boring here: there's no one to play with except Shale, and he's no fun at all."
"Of course we must take her with us, right? I mean, she can't stay here; she'd die," Merrill said, but her voice came slowly and of all the companions only she seemed doubtful as well as Loghain.
"Yes, of course we shall," Loghain said. In his mind he thought, Wait; what, now?
The little girl came closer. Her eyes were violet, and seemed almost to glow. "The magic words are 'Dulen Harn,' silly-billy," she said.
"Oh, now that makes sense," Laz said, and nodded. Her eyes seemed glazed and unfocused.
The little girl was almost within arm's reach now. "We're going to be great friends, I just know it," she said, and Loghain heard at last the deeper, darker voice that underlay the childish piping. Terror awoke in his breast as he realized he and his companions were in the thrall of something old and evil. Something shifted in his throat, and without conscious volition he opened his mouth and spit. Liquid fire spumed out of his mouth in a bubbling, blazing inferno. The flames engulfed the little girl and she screamed as she burned, but the screams were the frustrated rage of a demon thwarted, not the agony of a child.
"I knew there was something wrong with that child!" Merrill said.
"A mage, consumed by a demon. Typical." That was Fenris.
"I'm going to close my eyes and pretend none of that really just happened," Varric said. "I don't need the nightmares."
She was a demon, not a little girl, Loghain thought, staring at the blackened, unrecognizable remains. I killed a demon, not a little girl. Not a little girl. Not a little girl.
"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Bethany asked. "You're not…burnt?"
"What? Oh. No. No, I'm fine."
He tore his eyes from the ashes. "That was…not something I intended to do," he said, with a note of apology in his voice. "I didn't know I could."
"It's the dragon's blood you swallowed," Merrill said. "It's given you the dragon's power."
"Blood magic," Fenris said, with a curled lip.
"Accidental blood magic, Fenris," Hawke said. "He certainly didn't intend to drink dragon's blood."
"That doesn't make it any less unsavory."
"Elilia spoke to me of a cult of dragon-worshippers who lived on the mountain we're going to," Loghain said. "They drank the blood of their High Dragon to become what they called Reavers. I suppose this is something like that, although she never mentioned any of them breathing fire. I would venture to guess that's because I swallowed the blood of a different kind of dragon."
"A bigger dragon," Varric added. "You're awfully nonchalant about it, Big Bull."
"I'm trying to be. I just roasted what appeared to be a little girl alive. I don't need the nightmares."
He stepped up to the golem again. "Might as well get what we came for."
"Do you truly think the words that creature gave you were the right ones?" Fenris asked.
"One way to find out. Dulen harn."
For half an instant it seemed as though it did not work. Then, with a groan of long-disused joints, the golem came to life.
And spoke.
"My goodness, I've been stuck here for ever so long. How strange it feels to be able to move again! It has my control rod? How strange, I feel so disconnected. Quickly, order me to do something."
A/N: I was so looking forward to finding Shale! If you want to know why Elilia hung on to the control rod and words for a decade without going to find it the answer is truthfully that I didn't have the dlc when I started writing this. If you need a better plot reason, she was afraid to go off on a wild goose chase in the middle of a Blight and just kind of forgot about it afterward; she was reminded again when she realized she needed to keep Loghain away from her for a little while longer than if he just went to the temple of Andraste and back.