Chapter 20
"So, in the dawn of the Blessed Age, we sealed Adamant's mighty gates. We left the great griffon statues to tarnish and wear in the blowing sand, retreating to Montsimmard with a sense of loss and shame. I recently returned with a small expedition to retrieve supplies left behind and was surprised to see it still standing. The dwarves did well by us, and I suspect Adamant will remain for ages to come… but should the Order ever return, they will find it difficult to resurrect this place. Only spirits roam its halls now, alongside the memories of those who gave their lives to protect us all from darkness."
—from the journal of Veldin, Grey Warden of Orlais, 8:18 Blessed
Malcolm
As the daytime winds stilled, they first caught sight of Adamant from the base of the last iron tower of the Western Approach. The ancient Warden fortress abutted the lip of the Abyssal Rift—strong with its tall and scoured statues, yet precarious, much like the order that once maintained it.
"Why's the fortress look like it's perched over the edge of the chasm?" asked Adrian.
"It's a despondent fortress," Malcolm said without looking over.
"That was horrible," Finn said over chuckles from someone else.
"One of you laughed," said Malcolm. "I heard it."
Evangeline, her mouth barely showing signs of amusement, turned from her study of the Rift and Adamant. "I think we should camp here for the night. We do not want to approach the fortress without proper reconnaissance, and we risk darkspawn attack if we advance past sundown."
"But we're so close!" said Finn.
"Charging in when exhausted from a day of trekking across sand dunes isn't exactly the best of plans," said Malcolm. "We don't know if we'll find fighting or refuge in there. Better we be rested." He ignored the surprised look Leliana gave him. He knew why she'd given it, because she hadn't been around him in the past years as he'd finally grown up. The Malcolm she remembered would've charged straight in, only a passing thought given to their readiness and the consequences of ignoring it. He knew better now. While he might truly want to charge right in, it was better to sit back and plan first, that way they'd only have to do it once, and hopefully suffer fewer casualties.
"I agree," said Leliana.
Movement from around the base of Adamant caught Malcolm's eye, and he squinted to see what it was. If he wasn't wrong about what he saw on the banner, a small group of four templars were riding a circuit outside the fortress. "They look like templars to me," he said to Evangeline.
"I concur."
"Friends of yours?" He didn't know what kind of friends, really. Fellow templars, fellow like-minded templars, whichever.
"No."
Maybe Seekers in disguise. He looked over at Leliana. "Yours?"
"They are no acquaintances of mine."
"Does that mean we crush them?" asked Shale.
"No," said Evangeline, who hadn't lost the sour look on her face.
"It may be necessary," said Leliana.
"Possibly," Malcolm said at the same time.
Evangeline sighed. "No fire this evening, and all glowstones must be dimmed. We'll watch for the templar party to approach us overnight, and if they do not, I will go speak with them tomorrow."
"What if they decide they don't like you and kill you for it?" asked Finn.
"Then the rest of you may avenge my unjust death," said Evangeline.
"I think I'm starting to like you," said Rhys.
Adrian rolled her eyes.
Evangeline frowned at her, and then the rest of them. "You will all also need to be quiet."
The order held up until they were settling back against rocks to eat a cold dinner, and a spider scurried out from underneath the rock Malcolm leaned on. He yelped and threw out his arms, sending the last piece of his flatbread flying before he toppled over in his rush to get away from the spider. Embarrassment at his reaction flushed his cheeks red, but that'd been the third spider in as many days, and that one could've crawled into his clothing. The others he'd admirably managed to not make a big deal over, and had taken care of himself. Líadan would've been absolutely astonished, and probably a little proud of him.
As Wynne and Leliana laughed quietly—being well familiar with his reactions to arachnids—Evangeline half-stood in alarm, as did Rhys, Adrian and Finn.
"Darkspawn?" asked Evangeline.
Rhys and Finn grabbed their staves from where they'd placed them against another rock.
"I do not think it is anything so dangerous," said Leliana. Then she pointed at the spider, now huddled against Adrian's boot. "Not to any of us."
Adrian shot Malcolm a disbelieving look as she bent to pick up the spider. She allowed it to crawl onto her palm—crawl onto her palm, what was wrong with her?—and then extended it toward Malcolm. He stopped dusting himself off long enough to take a few cautionary steps back.
"No, no. You keep it." He held his hands up to prevent her from getting any closer to him with that spider. "Better yet, let it go in the sand." He pointed in the opposite direction of Adamant. "That way. Far as you can."
After she rolled her eyes, she took a few steps beyond the protection of the glyphs, set down the spider, and then returned. Malcolm kept his eyes on the spider to make sure it didn't head back to their campsite. To his relief, it took off toward the Rift.
"You're really afraid of spiders? Truly?" asked Rhys.
"Yes." Malcolm chose another seat, this one not next to a rock a spider could hide under. It was next to Leliana, who gave him a consoling pat on the back even as she failed to hide her amusement as his expense.
"As in, you're not kidding?" asked Adrian.
He shook his head. "Nope. Very real fear."
"But you fight darkspawn. You fight darkspawn like you're facing nothing more than a straw dummy. But a spider gets to you?"
"Darkspawn," said Malcolm, pointing at the Rift for emphasis, "don't have eight legs. Even archdemons only have four. Check back in with me when they grow four more. Or get fuzzy thoraxes, or thoraxes at all." He shuddered. "Their fangs are also disproportionate. Sure, dragons have fangs. But you look at them and they're huge, and they have giant maws for a mouth, so it makes sense that their fangs are big. Then you take spiders, and after you get past the too many legs part, you realize that if a dragon had fangs of a spider's proportions, the dragon wouldn't be able to hold its head up. Spiders are just legs with fangs, really."
"You've spent a disturbing amount of time thinking about that," said Finn.
"I've run into a lot of spiders. One nearly crushed me to death." Granted, that'd led to the point where Fenarel found out about him and Líadan and Fenarel had lost his shit, and Líadan had started to put a righteous smack-down on her former clanmate before Sten had intervened. He was still sad that Sten had halted the fight. Líadan would've won, and it would have been glorious.
"How could something like that even happen?" asked Adrian.
"They can get as big as young dragons. If a spider that size falls on you, that's how it happens."
"What were you doing under it in the first place?" asked Evangeline.
"Trying not to piss myself." Which was entirely true. That his smalls had remained dry was a miracle in of itself.
Rhys raised an eyebrow.
Malcolm grumbled. "When you wear armor like I do, people think you need to be the one running up close to the big monsters to fight them. Sometimes, that means under them, like with a dragon or a huge sodding spider. I still have nightmares about it, and they're bad enough that I prefer the nightmares about darkspawn."
"I'm…" Rhys trailed off as he looked toward where Adrian had freed the spider, and then turned back to Malcolm. "I'm willing to concede that your fear of spiders isn't so irrational, after all."
"You're all right." Malcolm grinned at him. "I don't care what your mother says about you."
That sent Wynne to her own grumbling, which got the attention off Malcolm, as he'd intended.
Without the fire pulling them all to a central location, they broke into smaller groups as the evening progressed, conversing to pass the time. Malcolm found himself speaking in low tones with Leliana more than he'd ever fathomed. But he had a lot of questions about what'd happened with the templars and Seekers in Denerim, and he wanted all the answers he could get.
He also wanted the truth about what'd happened during the Blight, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. His own mind didn't want to think about it, because it was a half-reopened wound that really needed to scar over before it could take that sort of conversation. It was better to stick to the relatively more recent, given the more immediate things Leliana had done to make up for it. She kept asking about Líadan, but he didn't dare say more than he already had. Realizing this, she asked about Cáel and Ava—he was not surprised to learn that she'd known the names of his children—and he was happy enough to talk about them. He said nothing more about Ava's newfound talent, but there were countless other things to do with them that he proudly and fondly relayed.
When it grew late enough that to stay awake would be irresponsible, they parted for their own tents on surprisingly good terms. As long as he nor Leliana brought up the Blight, they were all right.
Evangeline woke him for last watch, which he held, bleary-eyed, with Adrian. Well, bleary-eyed until Adrian started talking, because her chosen subject startled him fully awake.
"The sister who's traveling with us," said Adrian, "she seems to have taken a special interest in you."
He chuckled to himself. "She's no sister."
"No, I wouldn't imagine so, considering."
"What? Oh, no." Having realized exactly what she was insinuating, he looked at her in askance. "Her not being a sister has absolutely nothing to do with me, or her interest in me, or whatever it is you think has happened between us. Trust me, it's not what you think."
"No?" She seemed genuinely surprised, which made Malcolm wonder what the others were assuming. Maker.
"I have a wife," he pointed out. "One whom I love very much. Sister Leliana, such as she is or isn't, holds no interest for me." Not to mention that thinking of her the way Adrian had implied was like thinking of a real sister that way. And beyond that was she'd been seeing his brother, and then there'd been the whole faking her death thing.
"No interest for you at all?"
She didn't have to sound so skeptical. Just because he was away from his wife didn't mean his eyes or his mind would start wandering toward other women, nor did he want to, at all. He wanted Líadan, not a substitute. He'd be fine until he was with her again, not that he could explain it properly to anyone else. "Not in the way you're saying," he said out loud. "The way her mind works, though? I'd love to know that."
Adrian fussed with her cloak. "I just thought… you've been talking with each other an awful lot. All that whispering. Means what I'm thinking, in the Circle."
"We have friends in common. We were catching each other up."
"Oh. Well." She shoved the base of her stave into the sand. "Now I owe Rhys ten silvers."
Malcolm outright laughed, though he kept it quiet. "Don't give him anything. He cheated. Feel free to ask him how."
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at the brightening sky. "Oh, I will."
He was about to say more when he noticed that he couldn't see a single templar near Adamant. There was no sign of a camp. No sign of riders remained aside from divots left from hooves as they'd ridden northeast, entirely bypassing the protection and guidance of the iron towers. Dangerous, that. He wondered how many they'd started out with then, and how many they'd lost to the wasteland and the darkspawn.
The others were rousing behind them, complaining at being awake as they washed up, packed, struck tents, and ate a cold breakfast.
"Gone, are they?" Rhys asked as they finally started riding for Adamant. The winds had picked up again, but slackened as they approached the fortress.
Malcolm scowled. "They never want to go inside to deal with the demons and abominations. Just slaughter everyone, not sort anything out, and call it a day."
"You've experienced this sort of thing before, have you?"
"Kinloch Hold. Templars locked the doors and were waiting for everyone inside to die or become abominations. They just stood out there, protecting themselves instead of going in and protecting the people they're sworn to protect."
"You mean when the Fereldan Circle fell to blood mages during the Blight and was almost annulled? That incident at Kinloch Hold?" asked Adrian.
"Has there been another?"
"No, not that I know of."
"Well, there's your answer," he said as they pulled to a halt just beyond where the wind had stilled. "Are we going in or not?"
"Demons in there," said Rhys. "One, maybe more." He frowned. "Probably more. Lots more."
"Let's go kill them, then."
They dismounted to walk through the ravaged gates, silently watched from above by griffon statues scoured to shining. After glancing up at the statues just long enough to earn a glare from the sun right in his eyes, Malcolm paid no more attention to them, but not because of his momentarily spotty vision. Instead, the large number of bodies scattered through the fortress' courtyard left him fumbling as he tied up Knock. He and the other horses, understandably, were not thrilled at being left there.
"Don't worry," Rhys said to the horses as they stamped their hooves and butted at the humans' shoulders with their heads, "whatever killed these people is inside. Since we're going inside and you're staying out here, you've got the better deal."
Malcolm barely paid attention, strongly reminded of the carnage at Redcliffe, from when Connor had been controlled by a demon. None of the memories were pleasant. The smell was much the same, though the occasional gusts of wind dissipated it enough to border on bearable, if one had been exposed to scenes like this before. While he, Wynne, and Leliana took the cloying smell in stride, showing no more reaction than a displeased face, Evangeline, Adrian, and Rhys covered their mouths and noses with arms or rags. Shale did nothing to hide her amusement at their plight. Finn took off to a corner to lose his breakfast, which the horses watched with mild curiosity.
"This is like Redcliffe," Leliana said from beside him, softly enough that only he could hear.
He gritted his teeth to keep from snapping—this was a subject he'd actively avoided with her, because he knew it would give him problems in dealing with her civilly. "I don't think you should ever mention Redcliffe to me again, unless I bring it up first."
"I meant… before."
"Either way, the suggestion still stands."
She stared at him, her expression impossibly hurt somehow, but whatever unguarded truth within it disappeared almost as quickly. "There was a slaughter here." Her eyes roved over the bodies, and then up to the gate doors that clung precariously to their rusted iron hinges. "On the backs of those doors, you can see scratches from people trying to get out." She pointed at the dirt. "Track marks, there, from where the bodies were pushed aside when someone else entered. My guess is the templars who left in the night."
Evangeline nodded. "That was my supposition, as well."
Wynne walked over to check on Finn, grimaced, and then went to Malcolm as the others conferred. "Do you have any of that paste you use for recruits who have a hard time in the Deep Roads?"
"You mean the stuff we smear under their noses?"
"Yes."
"Probably, somewhere in my things. Why? Oh," he said as she saw her begin to narrow her eyes, "yes. Taking pity on Finn would be kind of me, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, it would. And we would be done faster. I do not wish to linger in this place. It is more volatile than I believed it would be."
"Death on a massive scale tends to do that."
"I could do with less of your humor."
"But then I'd have to cry. You don't want me to cry, do you?"
She lifted an eyebrow at him, and then pointed at the pack he'd left lashed to Knock.
"You're mean," he said, and then did as she'd asked. She was mean this time of day, and she was right that not having to stop every few minutes to let Finn heave would hasten their pace by quite a bit. Finn at least was quite grateful for the solution, though the paste did leave a curious greyish streak under his nose.
Before Malcolm could comment on Finn's new appearance, he heard guttural growls from the other side of the courtyard. "Oh, good," he said. "I'd wondered where the welcoming party had gone off to."
"It should stop," said Shale, "before I stop it myself."
As if Adamant wanted to further remind him of Redcliffe, undead corpses shambled toward them from the splintered doors of the main keep. Other corpses followed, rising from the ground as the first group passed them. Malcolm grabbed his shield and strapped it on, and then drew his sword. "Better ready yourselves," he said.
Evangeline had set herself in front, sword at the ready, while the mages summoned their first spells. Leliana had dashed for the wooden staircase leading to the top of the battlement, and then vanished into the shadows.
"Keep them away from the horses or they'll tear them apart," said Malcolm. "The rest of you, stay behind me or Evangeline. Don't get any ideas about rushing in—they'll be rushing to try to get you in the first place."
One corpse bolted toward them, a rusty mace held over its head. Finn threw out a freezing spell that hit it straight on, but the corpse shook it off, grinned through a torn mouth, and kept running.
"One more thing—don't bother using cold spells with them," Malcolm said as he intercepted the corpse, knocked it down with the edge of his shield, and then cut off its head. "Feel free to use fireballs on them, though."
"Oh, my favorite," said Adrian, who then promptly dropped a sizable fireball in the center of the mob. Several writhed in the flames, some rolling into others and drawing them into it, but the corpses in front sprinted toward the humans at a faster pace, eager to escape the fates of the others.
Malcolm did his best to ignore the acrid smoke rising from the burning corpses, compounded by the putrid smell that already hung over them. Two corpses ran close to him, one on each side. He whirled with his shield to send one stumbling, and cut off the leg of the other as he spun. Evangeline finished the job with her sword, and then turned to fend off the corpses heading for her.
One slammed into her before she could set herself, knocking her onto her back, her sword arm flinging out to the side where it did no good. Malcolm went to help. Three more accosted him on the way, and he could do nothing more than keep them from breaking his side's small line of defense. The corpse on Evangeline went to choke her, but was thwarted by her gorget. It howled in rage, beat on her cuirass with its fists, and then jumped off Evangeline and onto Finn.
It found purchase with its hands around Finn's neck and started to choke him.
Rhys whipped his stave around and struck the corpse in the head, hard enough to cave in its skull. Finn rolled the stilled corpse off him, grabbed his staff, and cast a lightning storm over the thinned crowd of corpses. Surprisingly, he never complained.
Momentarily distracted by Finn's plight, Malcolm didn't catch the corpse sprinting straight for him until it'd sunk its claws and teeth into his sword arm. They barely penetrated the thick armor, but did just enough to cause searing stabs of pain where the fangs and claws punctured. He nearly dropped his sword as his hand spasmed, but he managed to maintain his footing and knee the corpse in the stomach. It stumbled, putting its arms out for balance. One flailing arm connected with Malcolm's sword, sending it to the dirt.
"Oh, come on," he muttered at the lucky hit. His complaining turned to swearing as the corpse rounded on him again, battering against Malcolm's shield.
An arrow sailed down from above and hit the corpse in the eye, and it was quickly joined by an arrow to the other eye. Malcolm kicked the corpse away and picked up his sword again, then dashed off a quick salute with it to Leliana for the save. Thing would've likely eaten his face off if it'd pushed him to the ground, helm or no.
"Why am I so tired?" Evangeline asked as she threw a corpse down after it'd broken through her defenses. "This isn't like me." Another corpse ran up and practically gave her a hug, and that dropped her to her knees within moments.
"I've got her," Wynne called as her rejuvenation spell hit Evangeline.
Malcolm pulled the corpse away and dispatched it. Then he had to lunge as far as he could with body and sword to keep another corpse from reaching the horses. It fell directly in front of Wynne and began to scrabble for her feet. Adrian ran over, brandishing her stave, but Shale had picked it up and thrown it back into the pile of its brethren before Adrian even got there.
Growling, Adrian made several complication motions with her hands and staff, and then lobbed another fireball at the rest of the corpses.
None escaped. Shale glanced around, annoyed at having run out of things to squish. The humans breathed heavily, wiping at eyes stinging from sweat and smoke as the fire burned itself out on corpses reduced to cinder and ash.
After a cursory cleaning of his sword, Malcolm sheathed it so he could get out his waterskin. "Thank the Maker for dwarven ingenuity," he said as he popped off his helm and poured some over his face to wash away the grime before it got in his eyes. Deciding a rest, however brief, would do him some good, he sat down right where he stood. He considered propping his shield up, but decided it would be just fine on the ground where he'd tossed it. Then he set to slowly drinking his water as he examined the damage done to his armor. He'd forgotten how much wounds caused by the undead burned under the skin.
"One of them bit you," he heard Adrian say from behind him.
"They do that," Malcolm said absently as he poked at the wound. The corpse had gotten him really good on the inside of his elbow, where he'd only had his brigandine to protect him. It seemed the most likely culprit for why his hand had briefly not cooperated with holding his sword.
"Does this mean you'll turn into one of them?"
He worked his finger through the hole in his brigandine, wincing when he accidentally hit the puncture wound underneath. "Not unless I die and a hunger demon decides to possess my body, no."
"I'll have to burn my robes," Finn said.
"Does it have another set, or does it plan to prance naked through this fortress?" asked Shale.
"On second thought, I'll keep my clothes on."
"Better words were never uttered," said Rhys. Then he bent to examine Evangeline's injuries, first gingerly helping her in taking off her gorget. Without a shield, she'd taken a harder beating than Malcolm had during the fight. Even though the corpse that'd tackled her hadn't managed to get a real hold on her, the bruising around her neck from what it had gotten was extensive. "Sweet Maker," Rhys said as he got a good look at the livid bruising.
"Not a word about my own bruises?" Finn was busily pouring water over the various stains on his robes and scrubbing with his fingers, but to no avail. His perpetual state of dirtiness had apparently gotten to him. "That thing did get me."
"And you healed it almost as it happened," said Wynne. "Meanwhile, the Knight-Captain kept fighting despite her injuries."
Uninterested in their bickering, Malcolm scowled at the holes in his brigandine. How did one even repair them? His own method was to give it to Wade, but what Wade did it afterward was akin to magic, for all he knew. His vambrace at least hadn't been fully punctured. Instead, there were dents that jabbed inward against the brigandine, which in turn pressed rather sharply against his skin. Uncomfortable, but not dangerous or difficult to repair once he found an armorer. Of course, odds were that whoever had been the armorer around here had been just killed for the second time.
Maybe he could just leave the vambrace as it was. As long as he didn't try to move it much, it was fine. Better than trying to struggle out of everything just to have it properly looked at. An elfroot potion would get rid of the burning, and the rest he could attend to later. He poked it again to test what'd happen if he accidentally bumped it, and then flexed his fingers for good measure. The action wasn't pleasant, but it was bearable. It was his fingers that didn't want to cooperate as much as he was accustomed to. A potion would probably fix that right up. He dug around in his belt pouch—out. Of course.
His horse seemed really far away. Too far, which meant he'd probably had some energy drained out of him by one of the corpses, too. He scowled at his arm again and decided to wait. Eventually, he'd regain the energy to get up.
"Off with it," Wynne said from over him.
He squinted up at her. "What?"
"I need to see how extensive the damage is to your arm, which means I need your sleeve not there."
Malcolm slowly looked up at the keep, across the courtyard filled with smoldering corpses, and then to Wynne. "No. That would require taking of my vambraces, my cuirass, my gorget, then my brigandine and my shirt underneath. And there is no way I'm taking off any of my armor out here, much less everything above my waist, not even if Andraste herself came down and asked me very, very nicely."
"Was that blasphemy?" Rhys asked Evangeline. "I think that was blasphemy."
"The Maker's Bride never discouraged honesty or pragmatism," said Leliana. "She was Fereldan, after all." She gracefully jumped the last few steps from the battlements, her leathers bearing no evidence of having just battled undead monsters. "That said, I believe Andraste would advocate for promptness in healing, lest a wound turn septic. Perhaps you should listen to our most senior healer, yes? Off with your clothes."
"Oh, no." He pushed himself to his feet with his uninjured arm before Wynne and Leliana could double-team him. "No, no, no. You talking like that is going to give people ideas. The wrong ones. Lots of wrong ones. I'll just let my wounds fester, thank you." And now that he was on his feet, he felt that some of his energy had returned, and he took the opportunity to visit his pack that was still lashed to Knock. When he came up with an elfroot potion, along with two extras and a healing poultice he stashed in his belt pouch, he found Wynne frowning at him.
"Really, I'm not," he said to her. "Glare at me all you want." She didn't relent and despite all he said to brush it off, she was starting to get to him. "Tell you what. Once we're done with all this stuff here and we've made camp for the night—provided neither you and I are dead—you can heal up my arm any which way you want. Just not right now. If it makes you feel better, you can hit me up with one of your general healing spells, whatever those are. Should keep things from festering." He grimaced at his first taste of the elfroot potion. Why did he always seem to forget they tasted bad? "Hopefully."
"You live on hopefully, young man." Even with her exasperation, she tossed a healing spell his way.
He grinned at her. "Seems to be working so far."
Once they were all mostly healed and protection glyphs had been set around the horses, they went around the edge of the courtyard and into the main keep. The mages quickly banished the darkness by lighting their staves, which left the non-mages free to keep weapons at the ready. It was that kind of day.
It didn't help that Adrian kept jumping at every sound and shadow, which put everyone else on edge.
"It is allowed to calm down," Shale said to Adrian after she yelped again. "We have killed most of the creatures that would eat its face."
"Most?" asked Finn.
"Should I have said all? I meant all, obviously."
Adrian let out a sigh and then looked at Malcolm as they followed Wynne and Evangeline through the corridors. "Because I really want to get my mind off undead things that would love to tear me to shreds and feast on my flesh, I wanted to ask you something."
"I already don't like where this is going," he said. "Is it about griffons? I'm all right with talking about griffons."
"On about them again?" asked Leliana.
"It brought a book about them," said Shale.
"I brought it for Wynne, for your information," said Malcolm.
"Stole it, you mean," Finn said from behind them.
"Whatever." Now Malcolm preferred whatever Adrian wanted to ask him. It couldn't be as bad as anything the others could come up with, especially if the others were Wynne, Shale, or Leliana. "What did you want to know?" he asked Adrian.
"Are you one of the Wardens who fought during the Blight? Specifically, one of the Wardens who fought the Archdemon?"
Of course she wanted to bring that up right now. "I may have fought an archdemon, yes. Don't recommend it. Besides, other people here fought one, too. Wynne did. So did Shale." Leliana would have fought an archdemon if she hadn't faked her death, but he left that part out.
Adrian studied him for a moment as they continued to walk. "Are you—"
"For the love of Andraste," Evangeline said, without even looking back, "he's Prince Malcolm Theirin, King Alistair's younger brother. Fought at his brother's side in the Blight and the Fereldan Civil War and helped end both." She halted and turned to face them. "Now that we've gotten that settled, could we please turn our full attention to the possible demons we might have missed?" She really couldn't have sounded more harried and put upon if she'd tried.
"Fine, ruin all the fun," said Rhys. "That could've gone on longer."
"You could've told me sooner," said Adrian.
"It wasn't my place to tell." Rhys glanced over at Evangeline. "Also, there's just one demon left, far as I can feel."
"I agree," said Wynne. "And I believe I know where that demon lies." She motioned toward a hallway that broke off from the main one they were in. "This way."
Finn followed, but seemed less than thrilled. "How do you even know how to get around this place?" he asked Wynne as he ducked under a fallen beam. His back scraped lightly across the charred wood, leaving a long black streak. No one mentioned it.
"She has a map," Malcolm said when it became clear that Wynne wasn't going to play along.
"Really?" asked Adrian, even as Finn scoffed.
"It's true. The Wardens have maps for everything. It's just rare that we can find them when we actually need them. Usually, it's after you need them that you come across them."
"Was he like this during the Blight?"
"It was worse." Shale shoved aside the burnt beam instead of ducking under it. "It has improved, over time, but not much."
"Shale loves me," said Malcolm. "Really."
"That I have not crushed it says enough."
Malcolm smiled, despite his helm probably hiding most of it. "See?"
"The insipid prince should not push its luck."
"You allow the golem to call you that?" asked Evangeline.
Malcolm found it amusing that none of the mages gave a single shit about proper titles. "One," he said to Evangeline, "Shale does what she wants. Two, if you ask her to call you something else, she'll think of something worse."
"She will," said Wynne.
"The fussy mage speaks the truth."
Rhys chuckled softly as he looked forward, toward Wynne and Evangeline. "Now I see why you let her call you the elder mage."
"Not a word out of you," said Wynne. "Not a single word."
"What does she call you?" Adrian asked Leliana.
"She simply calls me 'the sister.'"
"That is far less interesting than I expected."
"Fortunate, I would say, given Shale's nicknames for others."
Wynne cleared her throat as she stopped and pointed at a door. "Pharamond's laboratory is through there."
They all fell silent. Beyond the door, it was quiet.
Malcolm believed it rather ominous and most likely a poor decision to go in there, but groups like his current one seemed quite good at moving forward with poor decisions.
Evangeline studied the door, as if staring at it could reveal any danger lurking behind it. She pursed her lips when no answer came, and then asked Wynne, "You really don't think he could be alive, do you?"
"I have seen it before with possession," Wynne replied. "The demon sustains the possessed mage, even if they have not been fully possessed. If you want a more detailed explanation, I would be delighted to tell you, but I believe now is not the best time for a lesson."
"I never thought I'd hear you say that," said Malcolm.
"I think you should get it in writing," said Finn.
After glaring the two of them into submission, Wynne motioned toward the door. "There is no point in delaying. The longer we dally, the less the chance we have of helping Pharamond."
Inside, they were greeted with lit sconces and the scene of a neat and meticulously organized room that happened to have an abomination sitting patiently on a wooden chair in the middle of it. Malcolm gaped, but not at the abomination—he'd seen those before. He gaped because the room was so clean. Typically, abominations and the like tended to render rooms bloody, fleshy, and otherwise filthy.
"Is there such thing as a tidy demon? Maybe a demon of relentless organization?" he asked.
"Not that I'm aware," said Finn. "I'm fairly certain one would have approached me by now if there were."
"Fortunately not." Rhys pointed at a ring of runes chalked on the floor around the abomination's chair. "Those are runes the Tranquil use. I hadn't realized they could bind a demon that well."
"Which means he did this on purpose." Evangeline pointed her sword at the abomination, who'd remained surprisingly quiet so far. "This abomination is no accident."
Leliana gently pushed the tip of Evangeline's sword aside. "Perhaps we must consider that this may be an accident, for invited demons do not always twist the body so."
"It was an outcome Pharamond clearly feared, and he prepared for it accordingly. We need to find out why he would foresee such a thing as a logical conclusion," said Wynne.
"You should let me squish it," said Shale.
"You want to squish everything made of flesh," Malcolm said to her.
"It says it like it's a bad thing."
The abomination finally moved, but it was only to sit up straight and look directly at Evangeline. "Your Chantry method of castrating mages has failed you, templar." A sick imitation of a smile pulled at one side of its malformed mouth. "What will you do now?"
The tip of Evangeline's sword came back up as she took a threatening step toward the abomination. "Nothing has been proven."
"Information doesn't need to be proved, does it? Merely the rumor of a broken ritual will tear asunder your delicately balanced control. Were this to get out, I look forward to the chaos that will surely ensue."
"I will not allow it." Evangeline growled and started to lunge at the abomination. Rhys stepped in front of her, barely keeping from scuffing the runes with his feet. In response, Evangeline turned sideways to avoid cutting Rhys, lost her balance, and ended up on the floor, the blade of her sword slamming into the stones.
Rhys offered her a hand and a look of apology.
She glared at him in return.
"Aw, look at that," said the abomination. "A mage helping a templar. Not something you see very often. Is it because you're fond of the templar, mage? Do you dream of her like you once dreamed of the other mage? That flush on your cheeks tells me it's true, even if you deny it."
"What?" asked a shocked, outraged Adrian.
"Ignore it," said Wynne.
Adrian waved her down. "Oh, no, I want an answer. How could you think that way of a templar sent to shepherd us to our deaths?"
"Ignore it," Rhys said through gritted teeth. "It's playing us against each other."
"I'd say it's working," said Adrian. "Too bad if you have a schoolboy crush on the templar. She's going to kill us to keep even this possibility a secret, so we'll have to kill her first." She hefted her stave and stalked toward Evangeline, who'd only just regained her footing.
Rhys put himself between them, a strange mirror to the situation the demon had hinted at. "No killing, not right now. Not before we find out what happened."
"I vote for not killing each other, ever," said Finn.
"Do not play into the demon's hands," said Wynne.
"You're no fun," said the abomination. He lounged in his chair as his eyes roved over the other choices of victim in the room. "Ah." His eyes halted on Malcolm. "You might do, Grey Warden."
Malcolm hated demons, especially when they tried to use him to create havoc. "Don't even think about it," he said to the abomination. "I don't care what Wynne or anyone else says. If you start in on me, I will cut off your head, light you on fire, and dance around your burning body."
"That… might have been a bit much," said Finn.
Malcolm shook his head. "When you've dealt with as many obnoxious demons as I have, you'd think that not nearly enough."
The demon laughed. "Oh, I like you. I'll save you for last, mortal."
"See what I mean?" Malcolm said to Finn.
"We'll have to go into the Fade," said Wynne. "If we're going to find out what Pharamond did, then we'll need to speak with him and not the demon possessing him."
"I assure you, I am a lot more fun," said the abomination. "All this fellow wanted to do was research. He could hardly be bothered to eat. And have you seen how neat he keeps this place? It's unnatural, I tell you."
"Stop that," said Adrian. "I liked you better when you were antagonizing."
"Now he's just making me confused," said Malcolm. Abominations and demons weren't supposed to speak sense.
Rhys nodded. "Right. Into the Fade we go. I assume he's got a supply of lyrium available? With the Veil this thin, it won't take as much as usual. Frankly, a sneeze gone wrong could get us there."
Malcolm leaned up against the wall as the mages prepared their ritual. "These never end well," he said as they mixed the correct potions and incanted various things. He'd watched enough where he knew he should know the ritual by heart, but he'd never been good at remembering magical things, especially in a specific order. "I know it's the only way to kill the demon and not Pharamond, but these things never go well."
"We have to try," said Finn.
Wynne stopped pouring a half-vial of lyrium long enough to glare at Malcolm. "It did go well with Connor."
Maker damn it, she had a point. He acknowledged it with a nod. "Fair enough."
Yet, for Connor's demon, it had been Morrigan who'd slain it. The other times, other people had gone in, and other people had fallen, or the circumstances around it had gone horribly wrong. Wynne and Anders had entered the Fade with Velanna to kill the demon in Malcolm's dream during his strange, botched Harrowing of a non-mage. While Wynne and Anders had exited triumphantly, Velanna fell to a pride demon right after they'd killed the sloth demon. She never left the Fade, for Greagoir had killed her immediately.
Or there'd been when Anders and Feynriel had gone into the Fade to kill the sloth demon after Líadan. They'd managed to kill it, only to end up in battle with a pride demon determined not to take control of Líadan, but her yet unborn child. Ava had been born not breathing, and had Emrys not done whatever powerful magical thing he'd done to save her, she never would have lived. In addition, there'd been the raging battle outside Marian's estate in Kirkwall, because that was when the Qunari had decided to attack.
As Malcolm watched the mages slowly drift off one by one, he could only hope this time would go like the first, as Wynne had said, and not like the others. Wynne was his friend, strained though their friendship and trust was at the moment. The mages who'd traveled with them had become friends of a sort, too. He didn't want to lose any of them in the fight with the demon they'd meet in the Fade.
Perhaps Andraste would guide their steps, but he didn't get his hopes up.