Chapter 39
"The modern Chantry is a thing of faith and beauty, but it is also a house of necessity, protecting Thedas from powerful forces that would do it harm. Where the Grey Wardens protect the world from the Blights, the Chantry protects mankind from itself. Most of all, the Chantry works to earn the Maker's forgiveness, so that one day He will return and transform the world into the paradise it was always meant to be."
—from Tales of the Destruction of Thedas, by Brother Genitivi, Chantry scholar
Malcolm
"I should have killed him," Marian said from in front of Malcolm as they raced up the stairs. "I should have tried to kill him sooner."
"We can all say that," said Malcolm. They should have seen it sooner, they should have acted sooner, they should have done something sooner to keep their friend from turning into the abomination he'd become. But they hadn't, and now Vengeance had taken Anders' place, and an incredibly powerful abomination was loose in Kirkwall. Justice had killed those revenants with ease, had killed the blood mage with equal ease, he'd killed the ancient magister with terrifying ease, and now they'd let him turn entirely. The corrupted being that had once been Anders and Justice would terrorize Kirkwall if they didn't stop it.
And because they'd hesitated, the ability to stop him was questionable. They'd waited so long to act, unwilling to believe they'd lost their friend entirely, that the easy way of ridding themselves of the abomination was long gone. And if they didn't stop him now, many people in Kirkwall would die, all because they lacked the will to do what was necessary at the time it was necessary.
And Malcolm wasn't entirely sure their group could kill Vengeance, not from what he'd seen in the Warden prison. He wasn't even sure if Vengeance counted as a Warden anymore since he hadn't felt the taint in him. He had no idea if it'd been healed or covered up or overwhelmed by the corrupted spirit, but it wasn't there for him to feel. It also explained why Nathaniel hadn't found him. Between being an actual spirit, if corrupted, and without the taint, Vengeance made for some remarkably elusive prey. However, he did seem to be more volatile, and that stood a chance to make him less unobtrusive. Hopefully, they could find him before that volatility resulted in casualties.
They burst through the door from the cellar and ran into Leandra, who'd been anxiously waiting their return. When she saw their expressions, she paled. "What happened?"
Behind Leandra, Sebastian furrowed his brows in concern.
Marian didn't address him. "Mother, you have to leave. Everyone has to leave and the rest of us will leave right after we get the others out of the Gallows. I want you to pack as soon as you can."
Leandra took her daughter by the shoulders, forcing her to look directly at her. "Marian, what—"
Though Marian interrupted her mother again, the contact grounded her enough so that she could do more than tell everyone what to do. "Anders isn't… he isn't Anders anymore." Marian paused, her eyes opened wide to keep the reflective sheen of tears from turning into crying. "He's—I don't know what he's going to do, but it's a lot bigger than what any of us could imagine and he's strong enough to carry it out. I don't want you or anyone I love or care about to be here whenever it happens. I don't know what it is, I don't know when it will be, I just know that it will be bad."
Leandra studied her for a moment, and in that short time, she shifted from a Kirkwall noble into a woman who had been wife to a mage, and had two daughters who were mages. A woman who knew the gravity of possession, the power of spirits and demons, and the dire threat posed by a mage who is no longer in charge of their body and their will. "How bad?"
"I think Anders is dead, Mother. Whatever's there now, it's an abomination, but it doesn't look like one most of the time. It looks just like Anders, but it isn't the healer. It isn't our friend. It isn't human. It isn't even a spirit of justice. It's something twisted and dark and vengeful that has a cause it believes is right, and will do anything to further it. Anything."
Another long look from Leandra, and then she nodded once. "I will make arrangements and begin to pack the essentials. Will we be going to Starkhaven?"
The reply garnered two separate looks of surprise from Marian before she said, "Yes, just earlier than planned."
Leandra glanced over at Malcolm and then back to Marian. "And what about your friends?"
"We're going to talk to them now," Malcolm answered before Marian could. While Marian seemed more focused on evacuating Kirkwall and escaping the danger Anders presented, Malcolm couldn't just up and leave as easily as everyone else. He wasn't leaving without his family. He also knew he had a responsibility to stop Anders—Vengeance, now—because he'd failed to do so when he should have. But any planning in regards to either had to be done with the rest of his friends, because he'd need help if he were to have a sliver of a chance at success.
"I think…" Leandra glanced south, toward the harbor. "I think you should tell the templars. If you still cannot reach Knight-Captain Cullen, perhaps you should consider asking the Knight-Commander for help."
Malcolm stared at her, fighting the wild surge of anger at the very idea of working with Meredith, when the only thing he wanted to do to her was shove her aside so he could get his family back. And if he couldn't do that, then a lot of shouting and swearing and maybe some fighting. None of those things encompassed the notion of cooperation. "Leandra, she's keeping my family prisoner. You can't really expect me to work with her." The statement was flat, but that he said it without rancor was a miracle, really.
"Were this a normal situation, no, nor would I encourage you. But this isn't a run-of-the-mill occurrence. A dangerous, powerful abomination wanders Kirkwall as we speak, and the templars are trained to deal with such things. This is what they are for, whether any of us likes it or not." She gave him a hard look to stop his objections in their tracks. "I know what she's done. I imagine I know some of what you feel, and I recognize that cooperating with Meredith will be incredibly hard for you. However, an abomination on the loose in this city is too much of a danger to ignore, and too much of a danger for you and Marian and your friends to try to take on yourselves. If you try to hunt it down and fail, it will kill you. And then what for your family? A Warden force is already on its way. As long as you deal with this abomination properly, your family can still be freed. If you don't… then none of us wants to contemplate what could result."
"She—" started Sebastian.
Leandra held up a hand, silencing him. "Not now, Sebastian. Your words aren't the ones he needs to hear."
She certainly had that part right, thought Malcolm. Sebastian stepping in with anything about the Chantry might've meant blows right then. Yet, however he disliked—no, hated—it, the rational part of himself recognized that Leandra was right. Leaving Vengeance unchecked, or Maker forbid, losing a fight against him, would be horrible for everyone. And, hate it or not, Líadan and the children were actually in a relatively safe place for the time being. Hopefully. But agreement refused to be said and he gritted his teeth instead.
"Mother might be right," said Marian. "We actually might need Meredith's help."
Malcolm shot her a disbelieving look. "I'm sorry, I thought I just heard you say we should voluntarily work with Meredith. Clearly, I'm losing my mind."
"You should honestly consider it, if you can't find Knight-Captain Cullen," said Sebastian. "From what we have all witnessed, Vengeance will be incredibly dangerous and difficult to defeat. We all know what happened with Corypheus, or the fights before that one. He stands a large chance of winning, were we to engage him on our own."
"Fine." Malcolm nearly spit out the word.
"Go, then," said Leandra. "All of you. Go talk to your friends and decide what needs to be done and how. I will make my farewells. Her Grace will be both amused and surprised at my acquiescence."
"Do convince Her Grace to follow suit, if you can," said Sebastian.
The corner of Leandra's mouth curled in a small smile. "One might as well attempt to move a mountain, but I will mention it."
"Oh, so you are on really good terms with her," said Marian, who sounded slightly less panicked.
Her smile turned melancholy. "Without her counsel, I would have lost my way a long time ago."
"We've that in common," said Sebastian.
Marian flicked her eyes between the two, then pretended to pout. "I almost feel left out."
Leandra gave her daughter's shoulders a fond squeeze before letting go. "There's no need, my dear. You have everyone else. It's who you are, like it was with your father."
They left Leandra to her plans, and she quickly exited the estate to visit the chantry. In the main room, they found the rest of their friends still gathered, and they fell silent as Malcolm and Marian entered.
"Didn't find him?" asked Varric.
Next to him, the Darktown messenger's face fell.
"No, not exactly that. He was there, but wasn't," said Marian. Then she told the messenger to see Bodahn about payment, and waited until the messenger had left before she explained what'd happened in the clinic. Malcolm had expected more objections to working with Meredith, but no one leveled any, nor did anyone have a better plan.
Then Nathaniel said, "We do have a golem on our side."
Shale, who'd managed to squeeze into the house through the wider doors to the storage areas, said, "I am still susceptible to those nasty paralysis spells mages use, otherwise squishy as they are. This is best done in a group."
"If being here is so dangerous, I could ask if we could seek refuge in Arlathan," said Merrill.
"Oh, maybe," said Marian.
"No," said Morrigan. "We cannot hide."
"I have to ask," said Varric, "this isn't awkward for you? All this talk about freeing Princeling's wife, while you're his ex-lover and mother of his first—"
Morrigan practically pierced him with her eyes. "Dwarf, I will tell you this one last time. I may have given birth to Cáel, but Cáel's mother is trapped in those Gallows with him. That woman is my friend, perhaps even a sister. I will see her freed, along with her son and daughter. If this abomination must be dealt with beforehand, then we will deal with it. You have my answer. Leave it be."
Varric raised his eyebrows and said nothing more.
Malcolm fully agreed with pretty much all sentiments.
Marian sighed. "We should get going. Everyone go get anything you need for a fight if you didn't bring it with you—"
"Hawke, we're in Kirkwall. Everyone's prepared before they leave home in the morning," said Isabela.
"Okay, right. Better we go now rather than later, before I can talk myself out of it, and before Vengeance can do anything bad." Then Marian indicated Cianán, who had remained seated in the corner of the room, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. "What about him? Should he stay here? Should you send him to Arlathan, Morrigan?"
Morrigan shook her head. "No, not without me. I would rather him at my side than leave his care to others while such a danger is loose in this city."
When Marian looked to raise objections, Malcolm gave her a sharp shake of his head. Arguing with Morrigan now would be pointless. She had the set to her jaw that meant nothing would work, and she'd only be more irritated in the end. Best they avoid her getting irritated until they were fighting Vengeance. Her irritated during a fight was amazingly helpful.
Marian got his meaning and left the matter of Cianán alone.
Once their little war party left the estate, they traveled mostly in silence, partly out of the necessity to keep the general population of Kirkwall from knowing about the abomination somewhere in their midst, and because there wasn't much to say that wouldn't get them more worked up than they already were. Plus, they needed the short amount of time they had at hand to get used to the idea of Anders not being Anders, but Vengeance. Yet, there was nothing for the dread that they'd have to kill a thing that resembled their friend.
Wynne's softly spoken questions didn't help much, either. "What happened to him?" she asked as they walked, lagging a little behind the group as they made their way down to Lowtown and the docks.
It took Malcolm more time than he liked to come up with an acceptable answer, and it still didn't feel like the right one. And maybe that was the problem—there would never be a good answer. "Justice, at first," he said. "Then it got all twisted up, Anders and Justice and everything. I guess spirits can be corrupted like mortals can."
"That is the process for creating demons," said Wynne. "Corrupt a spirit from its true purpose, and it becomes a demon."
"Your spirit tell you that?"
She gave him a look. "My studies have told me that." Then, after they'd reached the bottom of the last set of stairs, she said even more quietly, "And my spirit, too. As a warning."
Malcolm wondered what sort of demon a spirit of faith would become if corrupted, but he didn't dare ask.
On the ferry, Malcolm didn't look at the Gallows like the others, but watched the mouth of the harbor instead. Despite wishing as much and as desperately and hard as he could for Warden or Fereldan ships to sail through, they didn't appear. If they'd appeared, they could get both things done at once: deal with the abomination, and free Líadan and the children. But they didn't appear, leaving them with the initial problem of choosing one.
Then he found himself being hauled to the stern of the boat, both he and Morrigan pulled by a determined Marian.
"All right," Marian said once she'd chased the others to the bow, "here's how it'll go. When we see Meredith, neither of you will attack her or otherwise antagonize or goad her into a fight." She silenced their obvious protests with an upraised hand. "I know. Líadan's my friend too, and so are those kids, but Vengeance is a lot more of a danger right now because he puts everyone in danger, and you know that. In fact, when you think about it, the Gallows might be the safest place of all, considering how strong the walls are, plus all the templars. To reiterate: when we see Meredith, we don't attack her. We don't even yell at her. Instead, we ask for her help, because it could take every single one of us, her and Cullen and more templars included, to take him down." She briefly glanced over her shoulders, toward the Gallows. "And it still might not be enough."
Though Morrigan looked like she wanted to yell at Marian for telling her not to yell at Meredith, she kept herself from doing so, becoming calculating instead. "It must be one very powerful abomination, to pose this strong of a threat."
"He is," said Malcolm, it finally accepting that, yes, Vengeance was as incredibly powerful as they feared. "He killed an ancient magister as easily as the rest of us breathe, and I'm not exaggerating, so don't give me that look. Before he intervened, Corypheus had nearly beaten us, despite our numbers and our skills. Then quicker than we could blink, Vengeance had him immobilized, drained enough to give him a short lecture, and then killed him."
"The lecture would be the most horrifying part for you," said Morrigan.
He wanted to get the humor in it, but couldn't, not when they were going to face the abomination as an enemy. "It was the most disturbing, since anyone else would've killed the magister as fast as they could, without giving him a chance to recover."
Morrigan raised an eyebrow in surprise that Malcolm had set the humor aside, so great was his concern, and then turned to Marian. "You believe this course to be the wisest? Cooperating with this Knight-Commander?"
"Look," said Marian, "as soon as Vengeance is dead, do what you want. You might have to race me to take care of Meredith, but you can kill her then if you're so inclined. If you can beat me."
"I see reason in your plan, aside from demanding a kill that rightly belongs to me," said Morrigan.
Malcolm didn't say anything. He'd get there first, but he wasn't going to announce it. It'd make it too easy for him to get tripped up. Then when he thought about it more, there was the fact that he wanted his family back first, before revenge. So, if Marian and Morrigan could put Meredith down while he continued on his way to his family, he would be fine with that, mostly. Fine enough as long as he could bring his family to safety. So, he consulted the next best opinion, nudging Revas with his knee and asking, "What do you think?"
Revas growled.
"I'm not very fond of her either, but the abomination is a danger to everyone."
Revas whined.
He rolled his eyes. Figured that she'd carry the same opinions as Marian and Morrigan. "Fine, once we've put the abomination down, you're free to rip out the Knight-Commander's throat, if it pleases you."
Revas' happy bark that followed was almost disturbing, but Malcolm knew from personal experience how strong the imprinting bond was between mabari and master.
"Wait, we're going to have to race a mabari for the honor?" asked Marian. "That's just not fair."
Revas' bark almost sounded like a laugh.
"Gloat all you want, mongrel," said Morrigan. "You shall not win."
Malcolm let Marian and Morrigan continue arguing as they finished the ride to the Gallows, because he was too busy concentrating on how they weren't going there to get his family. Not yet. Stupid Vengeance.
On the island, Morrigan and Merrill strolled away to stand at the fringes, both having come to the conclusion that it wasn't worth the risk of losing Meredith's cooperation if she was alerted to the presence of apostates right at the outset. Then the rest of them strode up to the locked gates of the Gallows. Yet, instead of the templars on guard duty letting them in, a messenger was sent to fetch Meredith.
Marian frowned as the messenger ran off. "I did ask for Knight-Captain Cullen."
"He's busy, Champion," said the templar.
Malcolm almost laughed, because he'd entirely forgotten how often Marian got called by that title. Worse than his, honestly.
His humor rapidly drained as Knight-Commander Meredith drew within sight. As she marched toward them, Malcolm could see that she was a lot like he remembered her to be: powerful and frighteningly so. He also noticed that some of her cool composure from their previous encounter had been replaced by some wild spark he couldn't identify, but she was mostly the same. Enough that he had to force himself not to take a few steps back or look away when she made brief eye contact with him.
And then, because he didn't break that contact, he had to fight the urge to shout and draw his sword and attack her on the spot because she'd abducted his family, but Líadan and Cáel and Ava were safe from the abomination right now, locked up in the Gallows as they were. Once they dealt with Vengeance, then he'd be free to deal with Meredith.
Well, if someone else didn't get to her first.
As she had before, when they brought up the matter for which templars were well-suited to deal with, she abandoned any pretense of throwing her power around, and instead got straight down to business. She agreed quickly, even thanking a shocked Marian for her warning and her aid, before she sent one of the nearby guards to muster the rest of the templars.
Once he had gone, not without sympathy, Meredith said to Marian, "It must cause great pain, to hunt down one of your own."
"You've no idea," said Marian, the edges of her bravado ragged.
"I do," Meredith said with a slow nod. "I do know. And that is why I became a templar."
There was a story there. Malcolm wanted to hear it, but they didn't have time.
Marian appeared to realize the same thing, because for a moment she'd seemed like she was going to ask. Then she changed course. "But he's not one of ours. Not anymore." Her voice lacked full conviction. It was almost there, but like the others, she held the same tiny sliver of hope that Anders wasn't dead, not really.
"No, he is not," said Meredith. "If what you say about this Vengeance is the truth, then your friend is dead."
Yet it hadn't really sunk in, not truly, that he was. Or maybe he wasn't, not entirely. It wasn't out of the question. Maybe Vengeance had taken total control without subsuming Anders completely. Part of him might still be in there. Maybe. But they couldn't go easy on Vengeance based on that slim possibility, and furthermore, Anders wouldn't want them to. He'd want them to keep Vengeance from harming people, even if it meant killing him in the process.
To her credit, Meredith did not press the issue. Had there not been the gigantic stumbling block of Meredith having taken his family prisoner, Malcolm might've begun to understand her then, or at least attempted. If she knew that silence was best as one tried to come to terms with the fact that a loved one was dead, even as their form lived on to hunt and kill, then maybe she truly had gone through it herself. Not just hunting any abomination, but someone she'd cared about, in some way. Maybe it was why—he shook himself slightly. No. He didn't want to identify with her. Temporary cooperation definitely didn't require that.
As squads of templars began mustering in the Gallows yard, Morrigan and Merrill gave up the pretense on remaining hidden. They stepped out of the shadows, Morrigan with her chin raised in defiance before she even glanced at Meredith, and Merrill with every hurt about Anders' fate as plainly etched on her face as her vallaslin. Preoccupied as she was, she didn't bother with a look at Meredith.
Despite the friction it would cause, they had no choice but to make themselves known. They were going to help with fighting Vengeance, which meant Meredith would find out eventually. Better to deal with it now rather than, say, in the middle of a battle. They'd learned that lesson the hard way with Justice and the Grey Warden blood mage below the Vimmark Mountains.
"You!" Meredith said as soon as she made eye contact with Morrigan. "Apostate! You belong in the Circle."
Morrigan's chin came down, along with her brows, as much a challenge thrown as the declaration of a Chevaliers' duel. "You think to tell me my place? You are very brave."
"Holy shit, Princeling," Varric said from behind Malcolm. "No wonder you're hard to intimidate."
Marian gestured behind her back for Varric to shut up, even as she moved to step slightly in between Morrigan and Meredith. "That doesn't matter right now," she said. "Abomination means a lot more dangerous than a mere apostate. Right?"
Meredith flexed her jaw in want to disagree, probably loudly, but she conceded. "You are correct. For now, it will be overlooked." She paused, allowing the tread of booted feet, the clink of weapons, and the shouting of commands in the massing templars beyond to speak the threat for her. "It will be overlooked as long as she proves useful in protecting this city by helping to hunt and kill the abomination."
"It must be done," said Morrigan.
Malcolm was almost disappointed that the first meeting of Morrigan and Meredith hadn't ended in a spectacular fight. Not that he didn't think that the two of them being on the same side in finding and neutralizing a dangerous abomination wasn't a good thing, because it was, and Morrigan was clever enough to know that, but… it would've been a really good fight. The sad sigh he caught from Isabela somewhere behind him told him she'd had the same thought.
"Me, too, Rivaini," said Varric.
What Malcolm found interesting was that while Meredith noted Merrill's stave, she said nothing about it. Merely let her eyes rove over it, checking it off somehow, and then nothing more.
Weird. Not that he'd mention it.
"How will we do this?" Marian asked as a pair of templars ran up to Meredith and one handed her a message. The other templar did nothing to hide his open stare at Marian's group, especially when he got to Merrill and Morrigan.
Merrill paid no mind, and Morrigan sneered. When that didn't deter him, Morrigan stretched her fingers before summoning a ball of writhing spirit flame to her hand.
The templar's eyes widened slightly in fear and surprise, catching on instantly that Morrigan knew enough of magic and battling templars that she chose the elemental weapon that would ignore armor if it struck him. It signaled loud and clear that she'd fought templars before and won. Mages who hadn't tended toward other spells, usually involving fire or ice.
Then the templar widened his stance slightly as he readied a smite.
Meredith sighed, and then used her free hand to grab him by the shoulder and haul him back. "She is an ally. Leave it."
"Knight-Commander, she summoned—"
"You should not be surprised when a look such as yours is answered with hostility from anyone, not just apostates."
"Oh," Isabela whispered. "If I didn't dislike her so much, I might like her."
"I will deal with you later," Meredith said to the templar. "Return to your post." Once he'd run off, she wrote something at the end of the paper the first templar had handed her, and then gave it back to him. "Bring this to the Knight-Lieutenant." Then once he'd trotted back to the yard, Meredith turned her attention to Marian. "As for your question, it will be a fairly standard operation. Squads of templar scouts will be sent into the city to hunt down the abomination. The rest of the templar presence within the city will be strengthened by adding more patrols and bolstering existing ones. The rest of my templars will remain here, mustered and ready to depart when then abomination is found. You and your party will be a squad all its own, but I and two of my templars will accompany you. Together, we will root him out."
"That sounds reasonable," said Marian, who wasn't able to keep the dubiousness out of her reply.
"I am not so unreasonable as you believe." Before Marian could address the comment, Meredith shifted her attention to Malcolm. "Anders is a Warden, is he not? Are you unable to locate him?"
Nathaniel provided the answer. "No. I'm a Warden scout, and even I couldn't track him."
"Pity. That would have made this much easier."
"You're telling me," said Marian.
"I suspect you believe you could have done this without the templars' help, if the Wardens could have found him?" Meredith asked her. "You would be wrong. The ability to find him easily does nothing to negate the threat the abomination poses. This is the reason my Order exists. Surely, you must understand that now."
"I do." Marian's gaze briefly left Meredith as squads of templars jogged past them and began boarding ferries. "The problem is that you see every mage ending as an abomination."
"They will, if they are not properly guarded. Blood magic would run rampant, abominations appearing in every corner of the Free Marches, in every alley in Kirkwall, and it is all I can do to prevent it. Now you can see that it is not enough." Meredith's voice rose, filling her last sentence with frustrated anger. "It is never enough."
"Not all are so weak," said Morrigan.
"No, I daresay not." The rise had left her tone as quickly as it had appeared, reason taking over. "Marian Hawke has proven otherwise, as has Merrill. They, however, remain the exception."
"You knew?" asked Marian.
Well, thought Malcolm, that did explain Meredith's non-reaction to Merrill.
"If she didn't," said Varric, "she does now, Hawke."
Meredith spared him a withering look before returning to Marian. "You think I'm a fool, do you? You are an apostate. You are one who has operated freely because you have been a protector of this city. When you engaged the Arishok in battle and won, you did much to demonstrate how far your dedication to the city went. If I had suspected that was no longer the case, then I would have changed your status. I have protected this city through my vigilance, as have you. As long as our goal remained the same, you remained free. Even now, you have proven worthy of your freedom by coming to me for aid with this abomination." She inclined her head toward Merrill. "Your elven apostate friend, as well. She has done much to protect those in the Alienage. So long as her goal is to protect that part of the city, and to help you in your duty to the entire city, she is allowed to remain free."
Ah, so she had no idea about Merrill's blood magic. Somehow, Malcolm knew that if Meredith knew about it, Merrill wouldn't be free so much as dead.
"What about Morrigan?" asked Merrill.
"She," said Meredith as she leveled a deadly glare at Morrigan, "has killed many of my templars. Too many. If we succeed in dealing with the abomination, I will grant her the courtesy of a head start, so long as she leaves immediately."
"Agreed," said Morrigan.
Behind Meredith, the Gallows yard stood half empty, all the scouts having departed. The docks behind Marian and Malcolm and the others had emptied of ferries, save one.
It was done, then. No turning back. Almost half a garrison of templars now hunted Vengeance, and all that remained was to join them. Meredith motioned toward the last ferry, and their group, along with Meredith and two templars, boarded silently. The task looming ahead of them was too dark for idle chatter, even from Varric. To Malcolm, Kirkwall seemed to get darker as they got closer, shadowed despite it being mid-afternoon. As they crossed the harbor, they passed ferries returning to the Gallows to be ready to bring the rest of the templars to the city proper once they found Vengeance.
"I trust that you have not allowed your ill-gotten templar skills to wither, Warden?" Meredith asked Malcolm, seemingly out of nowhere.
He hadn't noticed that she was even near him, and now she was addressing him directly, again. She was actually talking to him beyond a standard Warden question. His disbelief gave voice to an answer. "Of course I haven't. The darkspawn haven't rid themselves of emissaries, and I'm of no mind to get crushed, set on fire, or frozen solid. Or all three, depending."
"Wise of you to keep them up." Then she said nothing more.
Blasted Maferath's balls. Malcolm got up and went to another part of the crowded ferry, unsure about keeping himself from saying or doing something that would risk their tenuous peace.
The Lowtown docks were surprisingly quiet and still as they drew up to them. The usual crowds of longshoremen, sailors, and merchants had vanished, leaving only stacks of untended crates of cargo, coils of rope from ships that'd casted off, littered bits of paper, and the suffocating pall of dread.
Unaffected by the dread and the absence of people, Shale stood near the ferry's landing.
"It certainly took its time returning," she said as the ferryman looped a length of thick rope loosely around a bollard. "Could the elder mage not harry the zealous templar into hastiness?"
"Wynne's particular charms don't work on everyone, you know," Malcolm said.
Wynne huffed. Had it been another time, Malcolm would've laughed.
"A golem?" Meredith asked as she stepped off the ferry. "You shall prove useful, should we find the abomination."
Shale nodded. "Of course. I shall be far more useful than anyone else you have. I intend to squish the abomination, given the chance."
"As long as it is killed with all possible speed, do what you will." Meredith gave Shale a respectful nod, and then motioned for the others to disembark. Once one of the other templars, along with Marian and most of her group were on the pier, the ferryman grew impatient and signaled emphatically for the rest to follow suit.
Isabela shot him a dirty look, which he ignored. If the darkening of Isabela's glare was anything to judge by, Malcolm figured the ferryman had better not lose his boat anytime soon and need work on a bigger ship. He doubted Isabela would keep quiet about how he hadn't cooperated when they needed him to.
As the last of their group, a female templar, stepped over the gap from the ferry to the pier, a burst of red-white light shot skyward from Hightown. They stopped and stared, the templar not even bothering to bring her back foot onto the pier, leaving it hanging in the air. The ferryman was the only one who wasn't mesmerized, and he unlooped his rope and shoved off, headed back to the Gallows.
Then the sound came, louder than a dragon's deafening roar when it sighted prey. The ground shuddered underfoot, groaning from deep beneath, and a hot rush of air swept over them. They crouched or ducked and covered their heads with arms or shields or cloaks as embers and small bits of debris rained from the sky. A cry came from behind them as the swaying dock tossed the unlucky templar into the water. The water hissed as cinders pelted the surface, but the templar sank to the silty bottom of the harbor before anyone could reach her.
She was the first casualty they witnessed that day.
"That's the chantry," Aveline said after the rain of embers had cleared.
"That was the chantry," said Fenris.
Meredith stared up at Hightown and whispered under hear breath, "Maker have mercy."
Sebastian shouted about Grand Cleric Elthina, trying to tell himself she'd made it out, yet starting to offer a benediction given to departed souls almost simultaneously.
While Sebastian continued to pray, Marian had gone unhealthily pale. She hadn't brushed ashes from her armor or moved her eyes from the pillar of smoke that remained of the chantry.
"Hawke?" asked Varric. "You don't look so good."
Marian replied so quietly that even the elves among them had trouble discerning it.
"No one could hear that except me," said Merrill, who stood right next to her.
"My mother was in there." Marian still had not pulled her eyes from the settling plume of dust. "She was in the chantry. She'd gone to say farewell to the Grand Cleric. She'd finally agreed. Why would—who?"
Sebastian's prayers continued, but with the addition of Leandra's name.
"You already know the answer, child," Wynne said, loudly enough to be heard by each of them, yet still gentle. "It's the answer we fear. What we do not know is why."
"Because the time had come to act upon your Chantry's failure," came the booming, otherworldly voice of Vengeance from ahead of them. He stood next to the statue dedicated to the Champion of Kirkwall's defense of the city from the Qunari. Considering the circumstances, it wasn't just an insult—it was a dare. "Because there can be no half-measures," said Vengeance. "Because there is no turning back. Because there can be no peace."
Marian tore her eyes away from what had become her mother's pyre, and she raised her voice as she started in on Vengeance. "She'd finally agreed! We were leaving this city. We were leaving because the signs had been there for this very sort of thing, and you—we were nearly away! We escaped the Blight and the Qunari, and we finally broke through my mother's stubborn hold on her birth city, only for this to happen. And for what?"
"To—"
"For nothing!" Marian shouted at the abomination as if she wasn't afraid at all. Maybe she wasn't, this soon after her loss.
Vengeance, more blue shining through cracks in his body's skin than there was skin, took a step toward her. "It was for justice! It was to bring the light of truth to their eyes! The Circle is an injustice upon the world, and the world had to bear witness. I have opened their eyes."
"You murdered people! How can that be right?"
"It is justice. I seethed at the atrocities committed on their souls as they cried out for me, for Justice. I have given them justice, and the world will give them more."
Marian gaped at him, her eyes slowly moving from Vengeance, to Hightown, and then back to Vengeance, her anger flaming as brightly as the chantry had. "This wasn't justice. This was murder. You murdered them. The Grand Cleric, the priests, the lay brothers and sisters, mages who might have been at a service, or just regular people, like my mother—their blood is on your hands."
Vengeance straightened, some of his anger dissipating as he expressed a twisted sort of satisfaction in his work. "Their deaths have brought justice to the world."
Marian said nothing.
"Death is never justice," Meredith said in Marian's sudden quiet. She drew her sword, its bright metal reddened by the reflection of the fires burning throughout the rest of Kirkwall above them. "Yet, sometimes, it is necessary." Then she marched forward, her sword at the ready. "You will answer for your crimes."
The blue in Vengeance flared so brightly that Malcolm couldn't tell where spirit ended and the mortal body began. Vengeance's contented satisfaction vanished as rage burst forth when he brought his stave in front of him. "Justice answers to nobody!"
"You are not justice," said Meredith, "and you will answer to me." One of Meredith's hands briefly let go of her sword, and then she clenched her fist.
The pillar of light from the holy smite slammed down onto Vengeance. The others rocked from the strength of it.
"That took a bit of my edge off," said Merrill.
"She is lucky it took no more than that," said Morrigan. Both of them had their staves out, as did Wynne, and the rest of their party had drawn their own weapons.
When the light receded, Vengeance still stood, the blue cracks in his skin glowing just as brightly as before. If any trace of Anders had remained, it was gone. "You will submit yourself to Justice," Vengeance said to Meredith.
"Shit," said Varric.
"You and Isabela and Nathaniel should probably do that disappearing thing," said Malcolm. "Sebastian, too, if he can stop sodding praying. I think Leandra and Elthina's souls would rather we not die by the same hands that killed her. Or not die at all."
"Second one," said Varric, Bianca already out and primed.
"Stay at my side," Morrigan said to Cianán. "If I shapeshift, stay behind Malcolm. He will protect you. If I fall—"
"Then I shall protect the fledgling mage," said Shale.
"And I'll help her get him to the Alienage," said Isabela.
Morrigan gave them both grateful looks as Cianán nodded, a little pallid as he did, and his hand gripped his short stave too tightly.
Malcolm was certain that if Cianán recalled anything about being a huge dragon of an Old God, that he'd be somewhat less afraid than any small boy would be in this situation. But Cianán was exactly that small boy right now, and he was frightened. Before, Malcolm had been relieved to see Cianán be normal, but now he'd have felt better if Cianán hadn't been.
He wouldn't worry about his safety, he knew that much. Malcolm drew up his shield as Aveline did the same next to him, the two of them wordlessly prepared to be the wall protecting the archers and mages. At some point, once the ranged fighters got a better understanding of how the fight would go, he and Aveline would likely have to split themselves up between them. But, for now, it felt good to have another Fereldan-trained shield at his side, and that he could concentrate just on maintaining his defense and not readying smites. If Meredith's smites didn't affect Vengeance, then his own would do nothing more than reveal gaps in his defense of the mages, and that would be far worse than an ineffective smite.
Fenris stood ready behind Meredith, and Shale behind him, while the mages found places that kept Malcolm and Aveline between themselves and Vengeance.
"You are not Justice," Meredith said to the abomination.
True confusion drew him up short. "What else am I, if not a seeker of justice?"
"An abomination upon the world." Meredith fell into a defensive pose, her sword waiting. "A demon."
The declaration didn't go over well.
Vengeance's shout thundered through the air and their bodies. His attack accompanied it, a searing pain that burned without flame, ignoring both shields and armor as it hit them. Bodies themselves were the only defense, leaving Malcolm and Aveline taking the worst of it as they stood their ground and protected the mages.
"One of the reasons I did not become a templar," Aveline said after she stopped wincing, "is because I don't like fighting magic. I like fighting people who use swords, spears, flails, maces, axes—honest weapons that can be repelled by shields and armor. Not this sort of weapon, ignoring everything."
"It's like cheating, really," said Malcolm.
"Glad you agree."
He did wish it didn't hurt so sodding much, and they'd only just started. "Feel free to hit him back with spells," Malcolm called over his shoulder. Magic took to the air even as he said it, each marked with an inherent quality that could only be felt. While he was familiar with each mage's magic, he hadn't fought been in battle with one for a long time. It felt strange, fighting once again at Morrigan's side. It also felt reassuring, the snap of her magic in the air something he'd missed on his side of the battlefield. The fact that it was bolstered by magic from others nearly as powerful was a reassurance of its own. What wasn't reassuring was seeing each spell either fizzle or do so little damage that it was rendered worthless.
A slight movement of Wynne's stave caused a bright glyph to appear under the two of them, and both immediately felt better. "Wynne, you are a wonder," Malcolm said.
She smiled at them, and then set to casting other wards and glyphs for the rest of the people fighting Vengeance.
"Anders used to use glyphs like this," said Aveline.
"He was Wynne's student, back in the day."
Aveline grimaced. "That's got to hurt."
They're more alike and yet more different than you'd think was the first to come to Malcolm's mind, but he didn't voice it. It was Wynne's story to tell, not his. He hoped the spirit of faith that sustained her never became so twisted that it turned into a demon. Seeing a second friend fall like this would be unbearable.
Ahead of them, having shaken off the effects of Vengeance's magic faster than anyone else, Meredith attempted another smite. Though as powerful as the first, perhaps even more, it was just as ineffective. This time, she immediately followed it up with strikes from her sword, yet Vengeance was somehow able to dodge them. Half the time, it was like his body wasn't even there with them, but in the Fade.
Because he wouldn't stay out of the Fade, they couldn't seem to get an advantage over him. Attacks landed, but the most they did was slow his step, and only then for the shortest of moments. Vengeance cast one spell after another on them, practically without pause. Unlike the mortal mages he fought, Vengeance needed no recovery time between his spells. He shifted from one spell to the next, each of them flying from his hands the moment he thought of them.
Shale spent a long time caught up in a paralysis glyph, cursing her inability to move and reminded too much of Honnleath, and if a bird shit on her she would crush the abomination more than she'd planned to before. In one instance, Aveline and Malcolm got too close as they tried to attack even as they protected. Vengeance didn't bothering looking at them as he retaliated. A mere flick of his wrist in their direction, barely a deviation from his fierce combat with Meredith, and that small motion drove Malcolm to his knees as his reality turned on itself and became a nightmare he'd feared to even dream.
They weren't dead, they hadn't killed them, but they stared at him with dead eyes, Líadan made Tranquil, and their daughter inflicted with the same sickening fate, a small girl who never deserved—and then somehow they'd done the same to Cáel and he'd never even been a mage… they'd killed them all and left them alive and he was as dead inside as they were. And she was right next to him! The woman who'd done it, who'd done the unspeakable, and so he attacked her. She met him with her shield, yelling that order would be restored, that she would not let his blows go unchecked. The crash reverberated through each of them, numbing shoulders and arms and yet they brought their blades together—
Crisp magic brushed over them, and they awakened.
"Fight the fucking abomination," Marian said from behind them. "Not each other. Maker knows what'll happen to the rest of us if you two knock each other out."
"Bad things," said Malcolm.
Aveline grumbled, and then they resumed their defense of the mages.
A hail of curses came from above, where Varric had been firing bolts from Bianca at Vengeance. From what Malcolm could gather, Varric's previous hail of bolts had missed their mark, every single one, and they lay scattered on the dusty ground. "I can't hit shit!" said Varric.
"Keep trying, dwarf," said Nathaniel. "Mine are no better, but one has to land."
"I am not sure what good our arrows will do even if they strike," said Sebastian. "Arrows alone won't deal enough damage, not when Vengeance remains partway in the Fade." Then he gave Fenris a significant look.
Having caught on, Fenris stepped half into the Fade himself, his lyrium tattoos nearly as bright as Vengeance's glow. His blade was quickly turned aside, but the blade was the distraction for Fenris' real weapon—his phased hand. With a growl, he shoved it into Vengeance's chest. Then his eyes widened when his hand clenched onto nothing, Vengeance having retreated just far enough into the Fade—beyond Fenris' reach, but not his own longer one. He grabbed Fenris' arm with his free hand and wrenched it sideways, then spun as he drew on the Fade around him before he flung Fenris out of it. Fenris' tattoos darkened as he sailed a short distance, his sword clanging as it fell uselessly to the ground. Then with a great crack, his solid body hit the stone wall of a nearby building headfirst. Fenris slid as uselessly to the ground as his sword had before him.
"Fenris!" shouted Marian.
"Wynne?" asked Isabela as she appeared nearby, her legs scraped in several places where Vengeance had thrown her off when she tried to stab him. "Is there anything you can do, or…"
"I'll need to get over to him," said Wynne.
She sounded tired, likely from all the healing and glyphs and rejuvenations she'd given everyone. And now they would ask for more, and more after that, and Malcolm wished they didn't have to. Among the mages, only Vengeance had a limitless well to call upon for magic.
Vengeance held his ground in the center of the small, makeshift battlefield, arrows from Sebastian and Nathaniel, and bolts from Varric pinging harmlessly against his arcane shield. Fenris had fallen on the opposite side. If Wynne tried to reach him alone, Vengeance would rip her apart.
"I will protect the elder mage," said Shale. "Stay behind me."
"I'll distract him," said Merrill. After she made a short pattern with her stave, she brought her hand upward and roots sprang from the ground with it, thick ones that would have been from the tallest trees imaginable, and they all reached for Vengeance.
Still partway in the Fade as Vengeance was, the roots couldn't get a good grip on him, but they were numerous and large enough that they forced him to pay attention to escape their grasp.
Shale lumbered along the edge of the battlefield, keeping herself between Wynne and an ever angrier Vengeance, forking lightning jumping from root to root. They barely made it to the unmoving Fenris as the lightning leapt off the roots and began hitting everyone else. Not deadly, but enough to sting and singe.
"You will die!" said Vengeance as the lightning faded and another spell took its place. "Every one of you will feel Justice's burn!"
"Get near me!" Marian shouted as she formed a barrier. "Near me, now!"
A column of fire formed around Vengeance, a swirling inferno that grew larger with each rotation. As everyone who could retreated to stand with Marian, Malcolm and Aveline crept back the slowest to ensure the unarmored ones got to safety. Malcolm felt the blessed coolness of Marian's arcane barrier against his back, even as Vengeance's flames lashed him from the front.
It had to be worth it, because Malcolm could see Fenris' eyes open and alert, though Fenris wasn't attempting to get up. Wynne had saved him, but hadn't been able to do more than keep him alive. It wasn't a good sign for Wynne.
With a cry of frustration at most of his victims having escaped his fire, Vengeance breathed the flames back in, and then let them out as a wall of vaporous ice, burning them in ways the fire hadn't. The cold hurt Malcolm far more than the fire, because his armor wasn't enchanted against cold, not even a little. He couldn't feel his feet and his hands and only remained standing because his legs felt frozen solid. Maybe they were, which was also bad.
From next to him, Aveline let loose a growl, and then said, "I'm Fereldan! That was nothing!"
"There's taunting, and then there's taunting," Malcolm said. Or, tried to say, because his jaw wasn't working very well, cold as it was.
A dispel swept over them, not of the gentle nature of Wynne's magic but Morrigan's prickly sort. It gave Meredith, again the least affected and first to throw off the effects of one of Vengeance's spells, the opportunity renew her attack. The rest of them did their best to recover, but they were slow in doing so, for frostbite and burns went unhealed. A glance in Wynne's direction answered the question of the lack of her usually present healing—she seemed to have barely anything left to draw on, her exhausted expression telling all. Malcolm frowned and looked behind him, only to see Marian nearly as depleted, Morrigan getting close to the same, and Merrill casting several anxious glances toward her belt.
As soon as Malcolm checked on Meredith and Vengeance, he heard Morrigan say, "Merrill," in a tone that said stop as much as it did Merrill's name, "go ask the elves for help."
If Morrigan was willingly asking for help, they were well and truly screwed. Malcolm glanced at them again, long enough to catch Merrill looking between a small dagger in her hand and Morrigan.
Well, that explained Morrigan's tone. Even if Merrill managed to keep them all alive, Meredith would kill Merrill just as quickly if she used blood magic. And probably faster than any of them could stop, given their exhaustion.
Merrill put the dagger away. "Do you think they would?"
"The alternative will be unpleasant if they do not."
Without further questioning, Merrill sprinted for the Alienage. Isabela ran after her, presumably to clear the way if anyone tried to waylay her. A good plan.
"You could just say, 'I hope so,'" Malcolm said to Morrigan after Merrill and Isabela had moved out of sight.
"Now is… not the time for hope."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Because it seems like a really good time to me."
A flash of irritation crossed Morrigan's face, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. She touched his shoulder, almost gently, and he was surprised to realize that it was the first time either of them had touched the other since he'd arrived in Kirkwall. "Protect him," she said. "I will provide a diversion to give Merrill time."
He'd scarcely started his nod before Morrigan shapeshifted, starting a jump over his head as a human woman, and she was just off her feet when she took on the form of a spider.
"Why couldn't it have been the bear?" he called after her, but she'd leapt onto Vengeance, the constant assault of her legs and fangs giving Vengeance too much to deal with aside from her.
Meredith took advantage of his inattention, as did Marian and whoever else could spare the energy. Given the job of keeping Cianán alive and well, Malcolm couldn't join in, and Revas refused to leave Cianán's side, where she had been for the entire fight. Aveline charged ahead, while Shale stood between Vengeance and the ones who were forced to hang back. Vengeance flickered in and out of being corporeal, which meant arrows and bolts started to land true, as did Meredith's sweeping blows, Marian and Aveline's cuts with their swords, and for a moment, Malcolm thought they'd manage it.
Then Vengeance went translucent, and even a non-magic user like Malcolm felt the sudden draw of power, the air being sucked out of his lungs even though he could breathe perfectly fine. For a moment, it was silent, swords and arrows repelled once more. Then came the surge, a wave of bluish-red light flung outward from Vengeance, crackling as it swept over the mages, their magic vanishing the moment it struck. Morrigan dropped to the ground mid-leap, landing painfully on her human shoulder, and then was barely able to roll away from Vengeance's stomping foot.
Marian staggered back, her shield shimmering and then gone, before the blast drove her into a wall. Shale's bulk kept the physical hammer of Vengeance's attack from reaching Wynne, but whatever had taken the power from the other mages still hit her, and each glyph she'd cast winked out. The rest of them were knocked onto their backs, every cut and bruise fresh with pain. Malcolm twisted to keep both his body and his shield between the blast and Cianán, and once they both fell over, managed to lift his shield enough that Cianán was at least safe. Even Meredith, who'd thus far escaped the worst of the damage, was toppled over by Vengeance's new attack.
Vengeance started for her, ignoring the rest, nudging the prone bodies of the others aside with his foot. They weren't worth his attention. Not yet.
He loomed over Meredith as she scrambled futilely for her sword, and over him loomed the back of the statue of the Champion.
"You will never take another mage, templar," said Vengeance. "And the rest of you will never again aid and abet the templars' injustice."
A blue light surged across them, but it didn't burn or freeze or sting. It was a balm over each of them, healing their injuries, granting them some of the energy they'd lost long ago, and from the spark returning to the eyes of each mage, it restored a modicum of magic, as well. It hadn't come from Vengeance, but from Wynne, the aura from whatever spell she'd cast still around her, fading as she slumped against the wall. Next to her, Fenris even started to move, taking a defensive position in front of Wynne.
As it had restored them, it seemed to take as much from Vengeance for a little longer than a moment, and the others did not hesitate. Morrigan whipped her stave around, driving a fist of ice into Vengeance's back, propelling him into the water of the harbor in front of him. Marian's peculiar brand of physically brutal magic hit the Champion statue, sending it tumbling downward, where the top half cracked away from the rest and rolled into the harbor, where Vengeance had fallen in.
They all took up defensive poses, waiting for Vengeance to rise from the water and hurl the chunk of statue back at them.
He didn't.
After exchanging puzzled looks, they ran forward and peered into the water. There, they saw Vengeance trying to lift the statue, but struggling, his face a mask of surprise at his lack of success.
"His magic is failing," said Marian. "I can feel it."
Malcolm could even see it, the now reddish-blue glow dimming beneath the surface of the water, his magic diminishing from the raging river to a trickling stream to a dry creek bed. Even an abomination couldn't find air with water filling his lungs and a statue pinning him to the harbor's floor. Then the light guttered out. His struggles stilled soon after.
"Stop!" came a shout from Merrill as she ran up to them. "He's gone! Vengeance is gone! If anyone's left in there, it's Anders!" She stopped just short of the line the rest of them had formed along the water's edge.
"Move that statue!" Malcolm yelled, not that he had no idea how they could move it fast enough to be of any use.
"Where?" asked Merrill as she pushed between them. "What statue?"
"In the water," said Malcolm. "It fell on—"
But Merrill wasn't listening, having quickly put it together herself, as well as recognizing that she was the only mage left with enough magic to help.
And Isabela, next to Merrill, was the only one with enough energy to help Merrill. "You lift it, kitten," she said, dumping her blades—there were a lot—onto the dock, "and I'll swim under and pull him out."
Without waiting for a reply, Isabela dove in, darting right for the unmoving Anders, while Merrill summoned a complex system of roots that raised the statue just high enough for Isabela to drag Anders out. Once they'd surfaced, Merrill let the roots go, and the statue splashed back into the water.
Malcolm dropped his weapons and ran for the dock. He helped Isabela haul Anders onto it, the body limp and heavy.
He didn't look like Vengeance anymore.
He looked mortal. Human. He looked like Anders. Like the friend they'd lost.
He looked like a drowned man, his face ashen and still.
The realization of the hurt they'd caused him struck hard, and Malcolm wanted to take the entire fight back. If Anders had been in there the whole time, maybe they could've saved him.
"Wynne?" Malcolm asked quietly as he moved out of the way. He wasn't sure if Wynne would even have magic enough to try, but he had to ask.
But Wynne had already joined them on the pier, kneeling beside Anders' body as she enveloped him with the scant magic she had left. Then she sat back, defeated.
"Nothing?" asked Marian.
She slowly shook her head, her hand resting on Anders' cool forehead. "Once the spirit has fled the body, it cannot be recalled."
Anders had been her finest, most talented student, one who'd mastered healing better than even she had. Yet, he hadn't been able to save himself, and she hadn't been able to save him. Her despair over it showed in the sheen in her eyes as she looked away from the body.
Beyond the two of them, Malcolm saw a single ferry approaching the docks.
"Is he dead?" asked Merrill.
Varric sighed. "Blondie's been dead for a while, Daisy. We just never realized it."
"I know, Varric," said Merrill. "I meant… I meant the spirit. Justice? Vengeance? Whatever it was?"
Wynne brushed her hand down over Anders' face, and then held it over Anders' heart before she stood. "Spirits don't die like we do. The most we know is that Vengeance is away, for now. It may be that Anders' own spirit died when Vengeance took over." She stood, turned from the body, and didn't look back.
"Took possession," said Meredith, her anger having yet to fade as it had in the others. If anything, it'd gotten stronger. "He was possessed."
"Semantics, Knight-Commander," said Wynne. "Now is not the time to argue over them."
For a moment, Meredith looked to object. Then she met Wynne's stricken, yet knowing gaze, and nodded. "No, it is not."
Malcolm had no idea what'd just happened, but how Meredith kept shifting from reasonable to unreasonable was getting hard to keep up with. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a dark glare from Morrigan directed at Meredith, and he really questioned Morrigan's decision because, while he'd really like to dispose of Meredith right then as well, they were lucky to be alive. None of them had enough energy to do much, and the mages had only scraps of magic at their disposal. Rebuilding what had been used or lost during the fight would take longer than a few minutes. To top it off, the battle had made it amazingly clear that Meredith was incredibly resistant to magic. Morrigan was strong, but right now, as it stood, Meredith was stronger.
And Malcolm was too far away to catch her by surprise, and the ones who were close enough were probably too exhausted to try. Not that he could relay any of this to Morrigan, who still looked murderously at the Knight-Commander.
Next to Morrigan, Marian's eyebrows went up in alarm when she noticed Morrigan's intent, and started moving her arm to stop Morrigan. But instead of Marian stalling her, it was Cianán. He took her hand in his and whispered something to her.
She scowled, but halted her advance on Meredith.
Malcolm gave Cianán a thankful smile, which made Morrigan glower at him. He didn't mind, so long as she didn't engage Meredith too soon. They'd have one shot, and this wasn't the time for it.
The ferry slid up against the dock next to theirs, but the squad of templars remained in it, save one. The one hopped onto the dock and got Meredith's attention. "Knight-Commander, we need you back at the Gallows. First Enchanter Orsino has some of the mages in the courtyard. He's talking about—"
Meredith's eyes regained the anger that'd only just been tempered. "He's leading a revolt just as we're called out to deal with an abomination? He's in league with it!" She stalked toward the ferry, raging the entire way. "I had suspected him of blood magic for some time, but this is no coincidence. He's been planning this! First, my Knight-Captain falls prey to blood magic." Her hand gestured violently toward Hightown. "Then the chantry destroyed by magic, and the Grand Cleric slain by the same, all while we battled the abomination responsible, drawing us away from the Gallows!" Her eyes took on the lightest of red tinges as her temper continued to rise, disposing of reason. "As Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, I hereby invoke the Right of Annulment! Every mage in the Circle is to be executed immediately!"
Two of the templars on the ferry jumped onto the dock, blocking access to Meredith as she stepped onto the ferry.
"What? No!" said Marian, who was as unable to stop her as the rest, between little magic and exhaustion. "We just dealt with the abomination—"
"And there are more waiting in the Circle!" Meredith said as the last two templars boarded the ferry. "You heard my templar! The evil inside must be eradicated before it tears down everything we hold dear."
"Evil doesn't exist inside every mage!"
"I know," Meredith said, sounding sincerely troubled, "and it breaks my heart to do it, but we must be vigilant. If you cannot tell me another way, do not brand me a tyrant."
"I'm not branding you a tyrant," said Marian. "I'm branding you a murderer. You're better than Vengeance!"
The ferryman pushed off from the dock and nudged the boat out into the harbor.
Meredith raised her voice to carry to the dock she was leaving behind. "Call me whatever you like! The city must be protected. The Circle can be rebuilt, without the corruption that has taken this one. Don't you dare try to stop me. If you do, you will fall with them. You have my warning. Heed it, Champion."
Malcolm looked from the dock to how far into the harbor the ferry had gotten, and decided he could swim the distance. Highever folk were very good swimmers, much as Cauthrien teased him about it.
He hadn't so much as taken a step when someone grabbed his armor from behind, holding him fast.
"You will not make it," said Morrigan.
He spun to face her, as it would make for better impact when he yelled. "You heard her! I'm not going to let—"
"No, we will not allow her to go through with her plans." Morrigan was as frighteningly angry as he was, because the same terror drove them both. "It will take her some time to organize her purge, and we will use it to our advantage."
Cianán pointed behind them, toward the harbor. "She can be stopped," he said. "The Wardens are here."