Salem

The air changed as we strode forward. It was no longer close and pressing, as it had been in the tunnels. My shoulder throbbed dully with every step. I had assured Leliana that I could still fight; in truth I was uncertain.

However, I cannot afford uncertainty.

"Who would dare enter here?" a dark voice barked across the stone. "You reek of the blood of my brothers and sisters. I am not well pleased."

The clanking of armor met my ears. Whoever it was stood at least a head and a half taller than I. Other footsteps echoed through the room, surrounding us. My companions spread out at a gesture from my hands, taking a defensive stance as I faced the one who had greeted us.

"Were we not attacked, we would not have responded in kind." I answered, attempting civility.

"They were my brothers and sisters, my sons and daughters, children of the Prophet reborn. You have spilled blood without cause, interloper. Give me reason not to do the same."

"Give me your name." I replied, unwilling to cede hard-fought ground to this man. "Then we can speak of reason."

"I am Father Kolgrim, leader of Haven and protector of the Holy Prophet." he growled. "And who are you?"

"Salem Cousland, Grey Warden." I answered. "We've come to seek the Urn of Sacred Ashes."

"You've come for the Urn, have you?" he asked, his voice developing a keen edge. It had lost its hostility, and that worried me. "And you cut a bloody swath through my followers to do so. Perhaps we need not be at odds, Grey Warden."

"You lead these people?" I asked, growing angry with this man...this monster. "You led those at Haven? Father Eirik and the townsfolk?"

"Yes." I heard footsteps. He had begun pacing, slow, deliberate, as though deep in thought. "Eirik knew my words for truth. He saw the Prophet reborn. He followed her orders, as do I. As will all the world, when she returns in her full glory and the Exalted March begins anew!"

"What do you speak of?" I asked, becoming confused.

"She has awoken!" Kolgrim bellowed. "Fed by fire, ashes, blood, and faith, our Andraste has returned to us! I have laid eyes upon her, Warden! I have witnessed the glory of the Maker's own Bride! She is all that is power and glory! And I am her Herald!"

You are barking mad, I thought, but did not speak the words aloud. Kolgrim struck me as many charismatic leaders...prone to excessive violence if provoked.

Leliana came to my side. "This is blasphemy." she whispered against my ear. "We cannot trust him. He is responsible for Haven's atrocities."

"I have no intention of joining him." I assured her, nudging her away as I felt Kolgrim's unease. "Father Kolgrim, what do you ask of us?"

"The Urn lies just beyond here." Kolgrim's voice dropped; he no longer sounded the fanatic. "But it is protected by an Ancient Guardian who will let neither me nor my brothers and sisters pass. Take this," he pressed something into my hand, something fragile, made of glass, "and when you find the ashes, sprinkle them with it. Bring about the final stage of our Prophet's resurrection!"

I turned my eyes to the glass, feigning sight, lest he take advantage of my weakness. "What is it?" I wondered.

Why does he insist on claiming that Andraste has returned? Who does Kolgrim worship? What man could incite such loyalty that he could cause others to commit such atrocities?

"It is the blood of dragons." Kolgrim informed me. "The last magic needed for resurrection."

Blasphemy and heresy. Though to decline will surely bring his wrath, and I do not know how many allies he has here. However, we have faced greater odds and harsher battles. So be it. I cannot risk tainting the Ashes and I will not reward the desires of a madman. A man who would throw children into his fanatical grist mill.

"No." the single word ricocheted from the walls.

"You would defy the Herald of the Prophet!?" Kolgrim fumed. "What are you in the scope of time but an ant, a worm! You would deny Andraste her new life, and her people salvation!? How brash, how arrogant, how froward!"

"I will not give way to the ranting of a madman!"

I returned his heat with my own. I had drunk my fill of wicked men plying me to do their bidding in the name of their own greater good. I would not be used. I dashed his precious vial of dragon's blood against the ground, hearing the ice sizzle and melt beneath it.

"Who are you to command me, Kolgrim?"

"I am the father of Andraste's resurrection!" he roared. "And you will burn beneath the wrath of our Prophet! Warriors and saints, to me! Andraste shall reward her faithful!"

You will all die...and I cannot guarantee the pleasantness of the life after. I drew my swords, praying. Praying that our strength would hold; that we could defeat this menace.

Kolgrim charged at me, screaming like the madman he was. I twisted away as his broadsword swept out, seeking my head. I spun back, aiming my blade for his neck. He parried my strike and rushed forward. I scissored my blades out; chills ran down my spine as their edges grated against his armor. Kolgrim planted his foot in my chest and kicked.

I lost my balance and fell back, gasping for breath as I struck the stone. I rolled away and staggered to my feet, ignoring the sharp sting in my left shoulder. Hold, I begged my body, just for one more battle.

The sounds of magic resounded through the room; men screamed and Burrow howled. We were outnumbered.

Kolgrim charged again and swung his blade down, perparing to cleave me in two. I crossed my blades, feeling my feet give ground as I strained against his weight, strength, and stature. My shoulder shrieked as it threatened to dislocate once again. I...cannot...hold...him.

I stopped resisting, relinquished my blades, and dropped to my knees, slid forward; listened to the satisfying clang of his sword on stone. I reached up and clutched his wrist, using him to pull myself up. Reaching back, I rammed my fist against his face, only for the metal of my gauntlet to strike off of his helmet.

He retaliated, dropping his sword...the world spun as I felt metal against my jaw. The impact spun me around and I nearly fell. I staggered back and heard Kolgrim take up his sword.

"You are unarmed, warden." he said, and I could hear the bloodthirst in his voice. "You have no choice now but to do as I direct. You will smear her ashes with dragon's blood. You will give my lady life!"

"I...will do..." I dodged his manic strikes, wincing as his blade collided with my bracer, "...no such thing!"

"Then die!" he hissed, bringing his sword up for the blow that would end my life.

Trust in your madness, Kolgrim, I smiled. For I trust my own.

He swung the blade down as I charged him, tackling him to the ground. His sword clattered across the stone ground; the shock of my attack had done what I intended. But again I was at a disadvantage. Kolgrim was not injured and battle-weary.

His metal-clad fist rammed against my left shoulder as I reached for his helmet and I could not prevent the cry that escaped my lips. He struck it repeatedly, knowing now that he caused me pain. Minute flickers of light danced before my eyes as he dislocated the joint for a second time. I gasped, reaching back and clawing at my boot for the hilt of my knife.

My fingers closed around it as Kolgrim's fist connected with my jaw again. Pain...disorientation...a rush of blood across my lips. I pulled my blade and rammed it into the first place I could, through Kolgrim's armored plate and into his knee.

He let out the shriek of a wounded animal and threw me from his body. I rolled across the ground, coming to rest at last. I lay still, afraid to move. The world fazed in and out, between sight and blindness, dream and reality. Have to...kill him. My trembling right hand cast about for a rock, a stick, anything. My left arm hung once more useless at my side.

Panic spread through me as I heard Kolgrim's now uneven gait come towards me. My fingers closed around the hilt of what I prayed was a sword. I lifted it as Kolgrim brought his blade down. Metal struck against metal and my arm went numb from the impact.

He could kill me now, pull his blade away and strike again. He has me pinned...I could not hold out against another strike. Why does he insist on pinning me down? Maker, give me strength...

"I'll do it." I gasped. "I surrender. Leave me alive and I will do what you wish."

"Swear it, warden. Swear on the Maker's name." he forced my blade against my gorget, reminding me that my life was held in his hand.

"I swear." I gasped, praying that he would let me survive. "On the name," he angled the blade down, beneath the protective armor, pressing steel to flesh, "of the Maker. Please." the word emerged as a whimper.

He laughed and the pressure of his blade left mine. Wasting no time, I sat up and plunged my sword up under the plate of his armor, into his skin. I smelled the rush of blood and heard the man's agonized wail. With as much strength as I had left, I twisted the blade. Kolgrim crashed to his knees and pain exploded through my body as his fist thundered against my temple before he fell on top of me. I collapsed, dizzy, sick, unable to move his weight. Instead, I lay there, listening to the battle.

"He's dead!" Kolgrim's men screamed. "The warden has killed the Herald! Flee! Flee before we feel the prophet's wrath!"

"Le..." I tried to shout, but could not find the breath. My ears were ringing. "Let them go." I whispered.

"Do not give chase!" Leliana's voice rang through the room. "They are too afraid to return!"

She's alive. I smiled and tasted blood on my teeth. She survived. Thank the Maker. I opened my eyes and swore I could see the sky, warm, blue, and inviting. But I can only see...in dreaming...so very...tired...