The sword thrummed in Hawke's hands as she descended the stairs. Ahead of her she could hear the sounds of someone moving, and she went faster, taking the stairs two at a time and hoping she didn't miss one and fall down into the darkness. Who knew what lay ahead of them? Dimly burning lanterns lined the walls, providing just enough light to see by, but not illuminating the shadows in the corners at all. The silence behind her told Hawke her companions were still tense about what had happened with the sword. She wasn't too sure about it herself. Why did this large, hideous weapon call to her so? That wasn't normal. But she knew instinctively that it would lead her to Corypheus, and she was willing to trust it at least that far, no matter what happened with it afterward.
She glimpsed movement ahead—three more Carta dwarves were scurrying into the deep shadows at the bottom of the stairs. Just as she got in sight of them, they took off up another set of stairs. A loud boom followed their departure.
"Uh, Hawke? Little problem back here."
"What?" She hadn't realized how tense she was until she heard the sharpness in her tone. Varric heard it, too, his raised eyebrows saying everything his mouth wasn't.
"Door's locked, crumpet," Isabela said, gesturing behind her with her thumb. An orange glowing barrier sealed off the top of the stairs.
"Fenris?"
At Hawke's question, he nodded, activating his markings and attempting to push his fist through the door. "I'm afraid not."
"Bethany?"
The mage wrinkled her forehead, focusing her magics, but nothing broke through the barrier.
"So, the only way out is to keep going. Wonderful." Varric frowned.
"Let's, then. No reason to waste time," Evelyn said crisply, feeling the thrum of the sword tugging at her blood.
"Perhaps we should exercise caution," Fenris said. "We do not know what may lie ahead."
She swallowed the irritation she felt at his words. "You're right. Isabela?"
"Dark stairs and a tower full of who knows what? My pleasure." She turned to Bethany. "Kiss for luck, cupcake?"
Bethany blushed, looking away, and Isabela gave a low chuckle before disappearing into the shadows. Evelyn followed closely, almost stepping on the back of Isabela's boot at one point. They emerged from the stairwell into a large, open room lined with jail cells. Most of them were empty, their doors wide open or sagging on their rusting hinges, but one was held shut with a mystical barrier that pulsed when Hawke came into the room. The sword in her hands pulsed along with it.
Behind her, Bethany drew in her breath, moving closer to the barrier and drawing a hand just along the edge of it. "This is … this is some kind of blood magic, I think. I can feel the conduit from here to that sword."
"Really?" Evelyn moved closer, and the barrier hummed loudly, vibrating at a more rapid pace.
"Evelyn, stop!" Bethany called out, but it was too late; the barrier broke. Behind it were confined a number of shades, packed together in the little cell. Bethany stepped back, hastily throwing up a shield in order to give Evelyn a moment to get set and herself a chance to move out of the line of the shades' advance.
Lifting the sword—not without some misgivings as to whether it was actually good enough to fight with—Evelyn waited for Bethany's shield to come down and the shades to spill forth. As they did, she swept the sword in front of her. It was a bit duller than what she was used to fighting with, but it cut through the pudding-like bodies of the shades well enough. The inky black goo oozed out of the holes and several shades melted into the floor. Fenris sliced through one next to her, and Isabela poked holes in another with her dagger. In no time, the shades were nothing but spreading puddles on the floor.
A strange sensation rippled through Evelyn, chills followed by a wave of nostalgia.
"Sister, did you feel that?" Bethany was blinking, her eyes wet.
Before Evelyn could respond, a voice spoke, solemn and hushed. "I can do nothing about the Wardens' use of demons … but none will say that my magic released one."
"Bethany."
"I heard it. But how can it be?"
"How can what be?" Fenris was at Evelyn's side, looking at her with concern and curiosity.
"That's Father's voice."
"Your father's voice, the Carta after your blood for this Corypheus, that sword … Bit of a Hawke mystery here," Varric said.
"I don't like it. Father never mentioned having been to the Vimmarks, or this fortress." Hawke looked at the sword with renewed suspicion. The thrum of it in her hand was disturbing … but it was also becoming disturbingly familiar. It called to her to keep moving. "Let's go."
"Perhaps I should carry that for you," Fenris suggested, eyeing it warily.
"As soon as we're out of here, I'll let you melt it down," Hawke said, squeezing his hand. He looked a little reassured.
Behind her, Isabela walked with Bethany. "Strange to hear your dad's voice all the way out here?"
"'Strange' doesn't begin to cover it," Bethany answered. "It's … it's been so long since I heard him. I wish—"
"He taught you a lot, then?"
"Everything I knew until I went to the Circle. What about your father?"
Isabela shrugged. "Not much to say. He died young. Lots of men in Rivain do."
"Oh. I'm sorry." Bethany started to reach for Isabela's hand, to comfort her, but the pirate shied away.
"It was a long time ago. Never needed him anyway. What's that up ahead?"
Successfully distracted, Bethany peered into the darkness. "Darkspawn? Oh, dear."
Before Bethany could get off more than a single blast of power, the others had taken care of the darkspawn. It was daunting, fighting with her sister's team. When Bethany had been taken to the Gallows, they had all still been learning each other's rhythms, but they were a single unit now. Bethany couldn't help but wonder if she was more help or distraction to them, since they weren't used to her magic.
"Hey, Hawke, look at this," Varric called. He held a grimy scrap of parchment in his hand, peering at it in the dim light. Bethany conjured a glowing ball of light, sending it to hover over the dwarf's shoulder. "Thanks. Brought your own sunshine, did you?" He smiled at her, a gentle, affectionate smile, the kind he kept for those he deemed worthy of protection.
"What does it say, Varric?" Evelyn asked.
He turned the page in the light, squinting at the faded writing. "Darkspawn … Corypheus … Warden prison. They must have built this place for Corypheus, then? Only thing I can make out."
"Great. So the Wardens locked up the puppy and didn't come back to feed it?" Isabela shook her head. "Naughty Wardens."
Bethany had wandered ahead. Through a doorway she saw a bent, twisted figure picking through rubble up ahead. She watched it for a moment. This was not a darkspawn, nor did he seem to be of the Carta—he was too tall to be a dwarf. She wondered at the stained and faded tabard he wore. Those colors … "Um, speaking of Wardens," she said softly.
Fenris heard her first, coming to join her in the doorway.
"What is he?" Bethany whispered.
"That appears to be a Grey Warden tabard, if I recall correctly." He called for the others. Evelyn put a casual hand on his shoulder as she leaned around him to look at the figure in the rubble. Bethany saw the sudden happiness that lit Fenris's eyes at Evelyn's touch and felt a pang of jealousy. No one had ever looked that way because she touched them.
Evelyn took her eyes off the man they were watching and glanced over her shoulder at the sword, almost as though she was listening to it. Bethany shivered. She was glad the enchanted item was a sword and not a staff. But really— "Why isn't it a staff?"
"What's that, Sunshine?"
"If Father's involved, and his blood is calling to our blood, why is it in a sword? Father was a mage."
Evelyn looked at the sword, frowning. "I don't know. Maybe it's not the sword—maybe there's something attached to it? Some enchantment the Carta could have put on any weapon."
"The Carta aren't known for their brains, Hawke, but they usually have the sense to pick decent weaponry. I can't see any Carta member using that sword."
"Unless they wanted to be certain her fighting abilities were compromised when she carried it," Fenris pointed out.
"Good point."
Evelyn shrugged. "It seemed to work fine against the shades. I think you're all making too much of the whole thing. It's just a sword."
Bethany didn't believe her, but it was clear the conversation was over, as Evelyn was striding forward, the sword in her hand.
"You there! Who are you?"
The figure looked up, and they could all clearly see the dark splotches of taint on his face.
"Venhedis!" Fenris hissed, and went after Evelyn. Bethany didn't know what that meant, but she agreed with the sentiment expressed in his tone. Her sister was going to get herself killed someday, walking into trouble like that. Varric was grinning nonchalantly, Bianca on his shoulder, as he strolled after Fenris. Isabela slung an arm over Bethany's shoulders.
"You think she's crazy, don't you?" At Bethany's raised eyebrows, the pirate chuckled. "All right, she might be possessed by that sword-looking thing. But that'll pass. Broody will melt it down into earrings before he lets anything happen to her … and that's why she's not crazy. She goes charging into battle, and Fenris and Varric go charging right along with her."
"What about you?"
"Mostly me, too. She makes you want to charge, you know? Just … today hanging back seems a bit more interesting." Isabela winked.
"Maybe we should go see what's going on," Bethany said nervously. Her skin tingled with the hazy memories of last night's touches, and she wanted to ask the pirate if they could do it again. But … did she? Every relationship she had embarked on had gone badly—she didn't even have to close her eyes to picture Anders in little bits scattered across the cobblestones, or Orsino as that bloated abomination falling into the murky waters of Kirkwall harbor. Not to mention that with Isabela, 'relationship' was hardly likely to be an option. When they emerged from this dark hole in the ground, the pirate would no doubt find someone else to dally with. Still … Bethany shivered at the memory of the sensations the other woman had drawn from her body. No one had ever made her feel quite that way before. Would it hurt to feel it again once more—maybe a few times more?
"Copper for your thoughts," Isabela breathed into her ear.
Bethany cleared her throat, pulling away. "I think we should go see if my sister needs any help."
"That'll be the day," Isabela said, but she followed Bethany to where the others were, in the middle of a stone bridge across a deep chasm. The bent, wizened figure was speaking to Hawke, but as Bethany came up his eyes moved to her as if magnetized.
"The blood of the Hawke! The magic is in you, I can sense it. But you," he turned to Evelyn, "you hold the Key. How is that? Same blood … same … sisters?" He seemed to be searching for the right word. Bethany wondered how long he had been down here with no one to speak to but the darkspawn.
"Who are you?" Evelyn asked sharply. "What's wrong with you?"
Bethany put a hand on her sister's arm. They wouldn't get anywhere bullying this man. "My name is Bethany," she said, speaking slowly to be sure he understood. "Who are you? Are you a Grey Warden?"
"Warden. Wardens, yes!" he said, his face brightening as he recognized the word. "Wardens guard against the Blight."
"Yes, they do. Are you one of them?"
He nodded.
"And you live here?"
"Live … live … life. What is life? I do not know." The wrinkled old face looked sad.
"Oh, this guy's a bundle of laughs," Varric muttered.
"We're not getting anything useful out of him," Evelyn said. She raised the sword slightly.
"No!" Bethany closed both hands around her sister's arm. "Just give me a minute, will you? If you scare him, he won't talk at all." After a moment, Evelyn nodded, and Bethany turned to the wrinkled, wizened old man. "You said something about a Key? Is the sword the Key?"
He nodded several times, his head practically bouncing up and down.
"What does the Key do? Does it unlock Corypheus's cell?"
"No! No, you must not! He sleeps, and must not be wakened."
"How can he be sleeping?" Evelyn scoffed. "He's been sending murderous dwarves after us."
"Apparently you're quite the nightmare, Hawke," Varric said, but no one smiled at his sally.
The old man scratched his head. "He speaks, but he still slumbers."
"How do we kill him?" Isabela asked, but the old man just looked at her blankly. Clearly the concept was a new one to him.
"More to the point, how do we get out of this damned tower?" Fenris asked.
That question seemed to reach the man. "Down and in," he said. "Down and in, down and in, down and in." He wandered away, still humming the words over and over again.
"Well, that was creepy," Varric said, staring after him. "Should we follow the guy?"
"Follow the crazy person? Why would we do that?" Bethany asked.
"Isn't that what we do? Better the crazy you know …" Isabela said, poking Hawke in the side.
"Very funny. Just for that, you lead the way," Hawke said, but she smiled at the pirate.
"I would have anyway." Isabela tossed a sparkling glance over her shoulder at Bethany, picking her way through the rubble.
"Down and in?" Fenris asked quietly. "How is that a logical way to get out?"
"You're expecting logic, elf, in this place? I thought you'd been with Hawke long enough to have given up on that kind of thing." Varric followed Isabela, and after a long moment, Fenris followed Varric.
"You all right, sis?" Bethany asked.
"Yes. Just want to get rid of this ugly thing and go home." Evelyn sighed. "I just want to get up every morning without having to look over my shoulder for people who are trying to kill me, Bethany. Is that so much to ask?" Without waiting for an answer, she followed the others. Bethany looked after her, thinking of the Templars back in the Circle, before bringing up the rear.