disclaimer type=standard
Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.
/disclaimer
o_ooo000ooo_o
The Warden lapsed into a short silence. Cassandra frowned at the delay. "And? What happened then?"
Kathryn tilted her head to one side and appeared to consider her. "You know, you seem to be enjoying my tale. At least, when I'm not relating various moronic Chantry schemes coming undone."
The Seeker sucked in a deep breath, but stayed her retort. She ran her mind back over the interrogation, and discovered that it was, for the most part, true. "You are not planning on springing any more surprises on me, are you? After you sundered the power structure of the Chantry in Amaranthine, both the Grand Cleric of Ferelden and Divine Beatrice made it clear that you were to be left alone."
The elf laced her fingers together and pointed her hands at the Seeker. In a neutral voice, she said, "An edict that was defied twice."
Cassandra felt her stomach drop. Obviously, it had been defied when the templars captured her, and they had been excommunicated for their actions. "Twice?"
"You don't seem surprised."
Drawing in a deep breath, Cassandra replied with a long sigh. "I am. But honestly, only because I had not heard about it. It is difficult to keep such things secret from us."
Kathryn smirked. "So you do believe that someone in the Chantry was stupid enough to try again?"
Grimacing, the Seeker nodded. "But equally, as I have not heard of the attempt, either you did not respond, or you responded in a manner that could not be traced back to you."
"Or," the elf said slowly, "there was no evidence to link the Chantry to the attempt."
That sounded interesting. Cassandra narrowed her eyes in thought. "No evidence? Then how..."
"Initially? By inference. By deduction. By the fact that it was the only explanation that made any damned sense at all."
The Seeker regarded the mage for a long, silent moment. "You do not know for sure," she said tentatively.
"I do so," Kathryn retorted. "I have interrogated the mastermind behind it. But I couldn't prove it at the time. And without proof, I couldn't justify a response." Her lips twisted into a self-satisfied smirk. "Of course, that didn't stop me from using it to further my own ends."
Cassandra rolled her eyes. "No doubt. What happened? When did it happen?"
"What? The Knight-Commander Darrian used me to get rid of some inconvenient people for him. When? Just after I first met the Architect in the Wending Wood."
o_ooo000ooo_o
The trip to Amaranthine was uneventful. As we were just going to 'pick up' a bunch of merchant wagons, Oghren had elected to remain behind to finalise the shipment of goods heading to Orzammar. Nathaniel elected to join in the hope of visiting his sister. Sigrun simply wanted to explore the surface. Anders wanted to browse the marketplace for some books.
Thunder, of course, was simply delighted to just go for walkies.
The city guards greeted us by sight this time. We entered the city without incident, making our way to the market district.
A dwarf woman with a face like a sock stuffed with pebbles bumped into Sigrun. Both turned to face each other with an apology on their lips before the other dwarf almost exploded in a venomous, insult-fuelled tirade. I moved to separate the pair, but Sigrun held up a hand to forestall me.
It was not, as I'd initially assumed, simply one dwarf bullying a casteless. The pair apparently had a history. Back in Orzammar, the dwarf Mischa had tried to give Sigrun a chance by employing her to do grunt work in her shop. Sigrun had been leaned on to fence some stolen goods, which were subsequently recognised.
Mischa had been evicted from Orzammar in disgrace. Sigrun had not spoken up as she would have been executed.
I reiterated my faith in my Warden, which sent the bitter dwarf off in a seething huff. Sigrun looked surprised at the support, but declined to talk about the incident.
We met with representatives from the merchant guild. To a man, they were pleased that the arling's authorities were finally doing something about the stagnate trade. The meeting ended in an agreement for the Wardens to protect a convoy. Anyone willing to take a wagon to Denerim at first light would be escorted to the south border of the arling.
Merchants scattered to organise what they could. Sigrun and I went to secure lodgings for the night while Anders and Nathaniel took off to shop and visit family respectively. We resolved to meet at the Crown and Lion tavern, on the other side of the city.
The inn could have been transplanted from just about anywhere in Ferelden. The main door opened onto a small common room with a handful of tables, around which several people nursed pewter pint mugs. A stairway on the left side of the room led up to a landing; and probably to where the rentable rooms were.
We pushed our way between the tables to the innkeeper, and I introduced myself. We were greeted with a mixed response; some people seemed pleased, while others muttered darkly about the changes at the Chantry. I asked about my missing Orlesian Warden, and was informed that Kristoff had indeed rented a room here; indeed, had paid for an entire month in advance. I acquired the key with little difficulty.
Kristoff's room was scrupulously neat and tidy. I found that very handy, as it made finding and reviewing his notes a simple matter. A large map of the arling was pinned to one wall, with notes, markings and crosses drawn over it.
It appeared that our wayward Warden was looking for a powerful, central source of corruption, rather than individual bands of darkspawn. Of all his notes, only the Blackmarsh had not been crossed out. No prizes for guessing where he'd gone then.
Still, after this much time, I held little hope that he'd turn up alive. I resolved to head towards the Blackmarsh on our way back from our journey south.
Anders returned first, carrying a tray covered with pastries and pies. Several of the local bakers were pleased with us, it seemed. Nathaniel returned somewhat later, happy that he'd got to spend some time with his sister and her new husband, and chuffed to discover that we'd left him some baked goods.
I decided to take my Wardens around the city before nightfall, to ensure we were a visible presence. We wandered around and spoke to everyone who had time to stop and chat.
A familiar figure stood in the verandah in front of the Chantry. Her enchanted robes were a little travel-worn, and her shoes showed signs of amateur repair, but it could only be the condescending old biddy I'd travelled with for the better part of a year. She still carried the same staff, wore the same cowl and gloves, and still bore the same lemon-sucking expression of permanent disapproval.
Wynne's eyes widened in recognition when she noted my approach. She stepped forward in a measured fashion, not eager, not nervous. She greeted me in a tight, formal tone; presumably she was still annoyed at me for daring to break Alistair's heart.
I introduced her to my new companions. She greeted Sigrun with a respectful nod, and Nathaniel with a predictable admonition not to follow his father's path. She smiled as she scratched Thunder's ears in greeting, an act that always put the scratcher firmly into the scratchee's good books. Anders she was quite obviously familiar with; he appeared to be even lower in her esteem than me. The pair began to bicker back and forth, presumably the latest skirmish in a long, drawn out war of words between the pair.
It wasn't hard to see that Anders' continued escape attempts baffled the staunch Loyalist. Just as it wasn't hard to believe that Wynne's indefatigable defense of the Chantry's oversight of the Circles rubbed Anders the wrong way. Wynne's words were laced with descriptions of her disappointment in my new Warden. I suspected that she saw him as some sort of successor to her, if only he would settle down and be a good little captive mage.
I interrupted them before they really got into their stride. More to disperse the growing crowd than to end my entertainment. I pointedly asked what she was doing in Amaranthine, and what had happened to Shale.
My rocky friend was still in the Tevinter Imperium, the object of study to some mages Wynne knew and trusted. Research on extracting the dwarf woman from her stony body was not encouraging, and apparently unlikely to result in success. Still, Shale was nothing if not patient, and had elected to remain with the mages on the off chance they uncovered a method of reversion.
Wynne was in town trying to locate a colleague named Ines whose voice carried disproportionate weight among the members of an upcoming convention of the College of Magi in Cumberland. It made little sense to me that someone who preferred their own company would hold sway over others, but we mages could be an odd lot. The Libertarian fraternity had latched onto the recent changes I'd forced at the Ferelden Circle to press for full cessation from Chantry oversight.
They were pushing for too much and far too quickly, I immediately concluded. The Chantry would not even consider such a subversive motion, even if it had unanimous support in the council. Anders too let loose an explosive denunciation of the idea. He described it, quite accurately in my opinion, as 'a recipe for disaster'.
Wynne was dismissive of our concerns, seeming to prefer to believe what she wanted to believe was true. Namely, that it would all blow over without incident. I suspected that she had no realistic view of how such a motion would be seen by the templar heirachy.
I wouldn't be going anywhere near Cumberland. Not for a while.
Still, Wynne's acquaintance had last been seen in the Wending Wood, south of Vigil's Keep It would not be much of an imposition for us to keep an eye out for her. Wynne thanked us for our promised aid, and departed, claiming much to accomplish before she took ship to Nevarra. But not without several parting shots at Anders and his stubborn refusal to model himself on her.
We spent the early evening in the common room of the tavern, socialising with the locals. We drank, we sang, we laughed at the amateurish attempt at scamming coin for the 'blight orfans'.
We departed, as expected, at first light the next day. The leg back to Vigil's Keep was somewhat less unremarkable; a single bandit attack less than two miles from the city. They must have thought Santinala had come early, given the enthusiasm they exhibited in their first charge. Such a train of wagons would possibly have supplied them for a year or more.
Of course, once a few fireballs and localised storms appeared out of thin air, their enthusiasm dimmed somewhat. A pity. These bandits had no conviction. Still, between Anders and I, our magic accounted for a good third of the bandit numbers before they legged it. Nathaniel's arrows added a respectable number to our tally.
Morale among the merchants in the convoy was high as we approached Vigil's Keep late on the second afternoon out from Amaranthine. I led them into the courtyard where several of the Keep's servants were prepared. The convoy would be put up in the Keep overnight, and we'd move out again at first light.
Something had happened though. The expressions on various faces expressed an odd mixture of amusement and foreboding.
It turned out that Oghren had received a visitor. Felsi had appeared at the gates the previous evening, demanding to see her wayward beau. The pair had argued long and loud, ending with her storming off and Oghren drinking himself into a stupor.
I took my old friend aside and had a brief talk. He refused to abandon the Wardens, but 0he tentatively agreed that he should at least try and be part of his child's life, and committed to writing regularly.
The next morning the convoy departed south, fortified with all the Wardens. We once again took our wagons, to hopefully lure some more bandits out on our return leg.
Two days later, we reached the most dangerous part of the journey. The Pilgrim's Path narrowed to a choke point that appeared perfect for ambushes. A burning cart ahead indicated that some poor soul had tried to run the gauntlet - and failed.
Still, if it was burning, it meant that those who set it alight were nearby...
They were. My Wardens were just as capable of dispatching a band of bandits as they were an equal sized band of darkspawn. The sylvans attacking the bandits were more of an issue. Just not overwhelmingly more.
I ordered the guards from Vigil's Keep to set up a corral for the convoy while the Wardens and I scouted further out for more dangers.
We found more scavengers battling sylvans and other bandit bands sorting out loot.
And then, we discovered the source of the attacks.
It was an elf. Or more specifically, an elf mage. Incoherent with fury and fear, she demanded that we release her sister. When I responded that we were Grey Wardens, she paused her raving momentarily, before telling us to pass her message along to the merchants. Before we could respond, she summoned a bundle of what appeared to be tree roots, which pulled her through the earth and away.
"Well," Anders said, "if that's the kind of mage ordinary people meet, I'm suddenly not surprised at the by way we're treated."
Sigrun punched him in the thigh. "Hey! She's lost her sister."
Nathaniel grunted, not impressed. "And a lot of good, honest people have lost their husbands and fathers because of her."
Sigrun shrugged. "I didn't say she was right, just that if I'd lost my sister, I'd probably go a little off the rails myself."
Anders frowned. "Off the rails?"
She shrugged. "Mines have metal rails laid down to roll carts of ore or scratching along. If a cart goes off the rails, things get a bit crazy."
"Ah. Thanks."
I scratched at my jaw as my companions chattered and bantered lightly among themselves. The elf mage was a serious danger, and needed to be neutralised. In the tower, I'd once read a military treatise on the art of warfare. One of the more interesting points it made was that of co-opting resources from your enemy. It was a fundamental idea that I tried to emulate always. Whether stealing silver ingots from Howe, or selling Loghain's crown, or even making the armour I wore, turning my enemies' resources against them was a major factor in my success to date. Indeed, during the Blight I had made it a habit of taking enemies and turning them into allies.
Finding the elf's sister would essentially stop her attacks on the merchants. Which, despite it being a tedious chore, would probably be a good use of my own time and resources. But turning the elf mage into a Grey Warden would be better - if I could work with her. She exhibited magical abilities that I personally did not recognise.
"Come on," I said. "Let's go."
Oghren looked at me and grunted. "You're not thinking about recruiting that maniac, are ya?"
The other Wardens, with the exception of Nathaniel, expressed surprise at that. I guess he took my suggestion and spoke to Oghren about Zevran. I responded, "I'm thinking about learning how to do those spells, actually. If that means recruiting her, so be it."
He took a swig from an earthenware bottle and wiped his mouth with his beard tails. "I think we might be over quota on crazy right now, Kat," he said.
"Maybe. In that case, we will have to kill her to stop the attacks on the merchants though."
"Aye. Sodding nugshit-crazy loons."
We scouted out the ridge on which the elf mage appeared. Unsurprisingly, she was not there. We did find piles of weapons and four mass graves. Nathaniel kicked some of the weapons around with his boot.
"This isn't right."
I turned to him. "What isn't?"
He crouched down, elbows on knees, to get a closer look at some of the blades. "These weapons. They weren't dropped in battle. It looks like they were… placed here." He looked around the scene and shook his head. "They weren't even used in battle. This looks more like a staged scene than a true battlefield."
Anders glanced around, confusion on his face. "Who would do that?
I rubbed my chin. "Who would do that?" I repeated. "Start with what it is supposed to accomplish and work backwards."
Nathaniel looked up at me from his crouched position and smiled.
"What do you mean?" Anders asked.
I waved my arm around, taking in the scene. "What is all this accomplishing? Elvish graves, Fereldan weapons."
He gave a goofy grin. "Well, it's certainly making certain elvish mages a bit bloodthirsty."
I grunted. "Yeah. So, make the assumption that having that mage go - how did Sigrun put it - off the rails, is the goal rather than a side effect. She's attacking basically everyone who comes through here."
Sigrun raised her hand. "Maybe they're trying to stop trade?"
"Or start a war between the Dalish and the local militias," Nathaniel posited gloomily.
I hummed a neutral tone. "Perhaps. But where does the sister fit into it?"
Oghren grunted. "Shit like this makes my head hurt. If we run across her sister, we'll do the whole damsel rescuing thing that's in all those books back at the Keep. But for now, there's darkspawn nearby. Let's go paste 'em."
Good old Oghren. Always manages to cut to the heart of the matter.
Sigrun brightened. "You read those books too? Did you figure out what an Antivan milk sandwich was?"
Oghren looked at her blankly. "Eh? S'like, soggy, bread dipped in milk, ain't it?"
She smirked at him. "No."
"Sodding useless books," he grumbled.
We left the staged battlefield and went hunting darkspawn. We found, we killed, we moved on.
Darkspawn weren't all we found. To my delight, we found a dark granite deposit that both Oghren and Sigrun thought was of surpisingly good quality. Nearby lay the remains of a scholar who came to grief in the Wood; presumably from a creature making a rustling noise, if his journal was anything to go by.
The mystery was soon solved as we encountered more sylvans, including an ancient individual half again as large as a usual specimen. The scholar's Tevinter stone activated what appeared to be a magical safe, revealing a lyrium-etched pendant that matched my eyes nicely.
We even ran into Wynne's scholarly rival Ines, who was just as anti-social as we'd been led to believe. It took little effort to convince her to head off to Cumberland.
We continued to explore the area, finding blighted creatures as well as darkspawn. My blood ran cold as we found a horrifying, open mass grave. Only Oghren did not react with revulsion. Even Thunder whined.
I closed my eyes and concentrated, looking for something I sincerely hoped not to find.
"Kathryn? Are you all right?' Nathaniel asked.
"Shh," Anders said before I could respond. "I think she's touching the Fade."
"How do you know that?"
Anders gave a soft laugh. "Because she's using the meditation stance favoured by one of the Circle's senior enchanters. An entire generation of mages think that they're required to stand like that to explore the Fade while awake. It lets them feel for any anomalies."
I let out an explosive breath and turned a glare on him. "It also requires a bit of quiet!" I snapped.
He did not seem the least bit perturbed. "No it doesn't," he said with a grin.
"Well… I do," I retorted lamely.
He waved that away. "Don't worry about it. This wasn't where they were killed."
Sigrun looked between us. "Worry about what?"
Oghren grunted. "Dwarves don't have mages, so when bad shit happens below ground, that's the end of it. Up here, sometimes demons turn up in places where lots of killings happened."
I looked over at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.
"What?" he demanded. "I can't keep my ears open?"
"I think she's surprised it wasn't your mouth that was open. With the neck of a bottle in it," Anders quipped.
Nathaniel waved them into silence. "Shh! Look," he said softly, pointing towards Thunder.
My mabari had trotted a little ways away, but was now standing stock still and grave-silent, his hackles up. I followed his gaze and swore under my breath. "Cocoons," I said.
Sigrun shuddered. "Ugh. I hate spiders."
"Me too," I agreed.
"Try fighting along side one," Oghren said, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine at the horrible memory of Morrigan changing into that awful shape. "Come on, let's go squish 'em."
It was a simple matter, as the nest was quite small. Once we were done, a tingle on my senses drew my attention. A survivor from the militia, mortally injured and horribly tainted.
We made him comfortable for his last moments. He painfully described the events that led to the deaths of his squad. It made my mouth go dry.
Darkspawn creating diversions. Darkspawn planning traps. Darkspawn playing one side against the other.
Darkspawn thinking.
Shit.
Some of the aforesaid darkspawn tried ambushing us as the militiaman passed on. But my Wardens were suddenly very, very serious. There was no banter as we hacked and slashed the monsters to pieces. We simply fell on them as efficiently as possible.
Oghren and Sigrun shared a long look that had nothing to do with his constant, clumsy flirting. "Orzammar needs to know about this," Sigrun said, her voice tight with worry.
"Aye." He gave one corpse a kick. "But these bastards are still mindless. Whatever's doing their thinking for them is the one we've got to worry about."
I didn't disagree. Having an unending swarm of darkspawn that followed orders and thought creatively was a nightmare that the conservative thinkers in Orzammar would have little defence against. Suddenly having a second base at Kal'Hirol was not so much an unexpected bonus as a necessary place to retreat to.
We scoured the corpses for clues. Besides the usual coins and small gems, I found an elven trinket in the pocket of the darkspawn mage.
"Wardens," I said, rising to my feet. "Bugger this for a lark. Merchants, militia, trade routes and insane elves are now officially a secondary concern. We need to find the leader here, and we need to find it now. Hopefully it is either the Architect or the Mother."
Anders frowned. "Er, why hopefully?"
I let out an explosive breath. "Because having more than two factions is not something I particularly want to contemplate. Do you?"
He gave me an abashed look. "I suppose not."
"Right, let's backtrack. There are still some darkspawn nearby. We need to find them. And then kill them."
The mad elf made another appearance as we made our way back towards the wagons. I tried reasoning with her, but she refused to listen and summoned some forest creatures, unleashing them onto us. This time, I noted that she escaped back towards the staged battlefield.
Right. That was one problem we could deal with now.
The summoned creatures presented us with no particular difficulty. We followed her back to the stone-covered graves, where she stood forlornly. She made no move to defend herself, but declared that we would not take her alive.
She appeared to be emotionally exhausted, if not physically. A few moments of calm dialogue was all it took to convince her that we would not attempt to kill or capture her. Convincing her that the darkspawn were responsible for her sister's disappearance was a little more challenging. The trinket I recovered earlier came in useful.
The hint that her sister may end up birthing darkspawn had her nicely lined up with our goal; the elimination of all the local darkspawn. She joined us, a little hesitant, but determined to save her sister. She introduced herself as Velanna.
She was dangerous, if not powerful in a classical sense. She had abilities and spells that those of us in the Circle had no clue existed. Not that that was anything special. I'd been out of the tower less than a month before I was introduced to a shapeshifter, and six months later I learned how to use magic to facilitate wielding arms and wearing armour.
The more I lived out in the world, the more I was sure the Circles were designed by the Chantry to limit mages, not develop them.
It was a thought I pushed to the back of my mind. I needed to concentrate.
We entered the mines, and descended into their murky depths.
An acrid smell and unpleasant dampness intruded on my oblivion. I carefully cracked my eyelids open over eyeballs that felt sandy and dry. Carefully, I raised a hand to my face and rubbed, noting absently that my arm was bare and my fingers were cold. But my face was damp.
"Ser Pounce-a-lot! No! Don't you dare piss on... Maker's breath! You're awake? I don't believe it. Lie still, Kat."
Anders was nearby. That was good. "What happened?" I whispered through a dry throat. The smell got worse. I crinkled my nose.
"We were captured. Some glyphs we walked over combined with a powerful sleep spell." He chanted briefly, and a wash of refreshing magic soothed my aches. "You aren't hydrated, just energised. So don't overextend yourself."
I sat up with his assistance and looked around. We were in a small prison cell, each of us dressed in rags. Sigrun was working on the door, but from her grunts of frustration, it didn't sound as though she was having much luck. Oghren was testing the strength of the bars and Thunder was snoring at the edge of the cell.
The elf Velanna sat in one corner, arms crossed and sullenly silent.
I tilted my head to one side, stretching out the stiffness. "Why are you still here?" I asked her. "Can't you move through the ground?" I ran my fingers through my knotty hair. My hand came away damp and smelly. I decided at that instant that Ser Pounce had to die.
"I can't travel through stone!" she spat. In a softer voice she clarified with, "Only through earth."
I grunted, pleased that there was a way to imprison her if I ever needed to. "What's wrong with Thunder?"
Anders shrugged helplessly. "I've no idea. He won't wake up. The sleep spell affected him differently. He's fine though, he just won't open his eyes."
I swallowed, very worried for my mabari. "Right, well, I'm up, so let's not hang around here. I want to get going."
Velanna scoffed. "You think that we were just sitting around waiting for you to wake up?"
I shrugged. "Maybe. If you can't open the door then one of us needs to go and find the key."
She rolled her eyes. "Well, obviously. That would be a great help. Would you care to volunteer?"
"Okay," I replied easily. "Anders, grab your bloody cat. If he pisses on me again I'm making myself a new cat-skin belt." He did so, and I shifted into my mouse form. I scurried between the bars and changed back to my usual form. Unfortunately, I was starkers. The rags I'd been dressed in didn't have enchanted mouse fur embroidered into them. Damn it. There's always something.
"Pass me my clothes," I snapped. Sigrun and Velanna were both staring at me in open-mouthed silence. Nathaniel was looking away, the back of his neck bright red. Anders was covering his eyes, though i noted that one eye lined up with a tiny gap between his fingers. Pervert. Oghren just openly nodded his appreciation. At least he was honest about it.
Sigrun bundled my rags and tossed them out of the cage to me. I struggled into them as quickly as possible. "Right, any idea where I should look first?"
Oghren snorted. "There some darkspawn behind the door over there, I can smell them from here."
I nodded, my still-young Warden senses confirming his statement. "Right, I'll go kill them and bring back a key."
Anders shot to his feet. "Be careful."
Velanna lunged for the bars. "My sister! If you see my sister, help her!"
I gave her a flat look. "Fine," I ground out. I may need the irritating mage's skills to make our escape. "What does she look like?"
Velanna spat out a generic set of attributes that could have matched just about any elf, except for a detailed description of her sister's facial tattoos. Obviously that was how the Dalish identified one another. With a nod and a final glance at my slumbering hound, I turned away and opened the heavy wooden door leading to the darkspawn.
On the other side stood an elf woman who matched the description I'd just been provided to a tee. Except that she was armed and armoured. And tainted. She had her hand out to open the door.
As she gaped at me, I put her to sleep with a spell. She collapsed in a heap, dropping a keyring she had been holding in one hand. With a sigh, I had a sudden epiphany that Velanna was going to believe that I could do anything instantaneously.
I picked up the keys, shouldered Seranni with some difficulty, and walked back through the door, not ten seconds after opening it in the first place. "This her?" I snapped at the Dalish elf.
Oghren barked a laugh over Velanna's relieved shrieks. "You don't mess about, do ya, Kat?"
"Nope," I replied, tossing the keys to Sigrun and carefully laying my burden on the floor. She seemed to be in remarkable health for someone with moderate corruption. She had no visible wounds and she was well fed. She was almost certainly no prisoner.
"Seranni!" Velanna cried on seeing her sister. She pushed her way past Sigrun and out of the opened cell.
I held up a hand and shouted, "Stop! Stay back."
"What? Why?" she demanded, her eyes flashing in rage.
"Your sister is tainted. Touch her and you could get corrupted too," I replied flatly.
She clenched her fists and began shaking. "No! No! There must be a cure, there must be!"
I grunted. "There is. Sort of. There's one ritual. But it's not guaranteed to work and it doesn't so much cure the corruption as delay the inevitable for a few decades."
"Then you must perform it! Immediately!"
Maker, her voice could etch glass. I lifted my face and glared at her so pointedly that she blinked and took half a step back. I spread my arms and said, "I don't happen to have the required reagents on me!"
Anders knelt down next to me and held his hands over the slumbering elf. He chanted softly for a moment, and his hands began to glow a deep viridian. "That's not right," he muttered.
I waited for the predictable, overly emotional, "What?" from Velanna. I was not disappointed.
Anders frowned. "She's far more gone with corruption than she looks. But it's being held in check by something." He rubbed his chin, the stubble making a rough scratching noise. "I've got nothing but guesswork to base this on you realise, but if she's got the presence of mind and strength of will to hold on this long, then she's likely to survive the trip to Vigil's Keep."
"Right, well, let's-" I began before Thunder's growling and a sense of approaching corruption silenced me. My joy at his awakening quickly turned to tense readiness. I turned back to the open door and warned, "Incoming!"
I threw a fireball at the darkspawn even appeared through the door. They were unprepared for the attack, and were knocked down by the blast. Sigrun and Oghren charged forward through the smoky residue, brutally clubbing them with thighbones they'd picked up. As much as mouldering bones added to the feeling of despair in a prison cell, they made for surprisingly effective weapons. Oghren's snapped after one devastating blow, but he simply reversed his grip and started stabbing with the pointy end.
Nathaniel had taken the time to divest Seranni of her blades, an action that made him far more effective against the attacking darkspawn.
Velanna cast a spell that woke her sister. Instantly, a pair of shrieking voices began arguing back and forth. I clenched my eyes shut tightly against the sudden onset headache. It took me all of three seconds to decide that it would be better for my eardrums to simply stun the both of them and leave them here.
From the excruciating wails, I gathered that Seranni had thrown her lot in with the Architect. She wanted her sister to escape, but not leave herself. Velanna wouldn't, and couldn't, accept that, and said so. Loudly. Piercingly. Repeatedly.
I was about to let loose my magic to shut them both up when Seranni suddenly collapsed bonelessly, caught at the last second by Anders, who laid her on the stone floor with gentle care.
Velanna immediately went on the attack. "What are you doing?" she screamed.
Anders looked up at her sadly. "Your sister has been mentally dominated," he said in tones so low that the elf mage would have to cease her ranting to hear him. It was an interesting tactic, and one that I'd have to try myself.
"What?" she said, so aghast that it was almost a whisper. I made a mental note to give Anders a bonus once we were back home.
"The darkspawn who captured us - this Architect fellow - he has dominated her. Using Blood Magic, I assume. Your sister wants to stay with him. I put her to sleep because the hold he has over her will need to be broken before she will be the woman you remember."
I was angry. Actually, I was bloody furious. Sparks arced between my fingers as we stomped around, searching out and splattering any darkspawn unlucky enough to get in our way.
As much as Velanna was an irritating shrew, I needed her. Well, I needed her sister, but I figured that they were pretty much a package deal. I needed to know how the Architect kept the taint in her at bay, preventing it from overwhelming her. I needed to know the Architect's plans. I needed to know why he'd taken all my blood, if not to try and control me as he had controlled Seranni. That thought chilled me to the bone.
To that end, Anders took up the burden of carrying the slumbering elf maiden. While any one of the males in our party was fully capable of carrying a slender elf by themselves, Nathaniel and Oghren needed the ability to attack a group of darkspawn in an instant, and having to drop an ally onto hard stone to do so would have been undiplomatic. Anders, to his credit, did not complain. He simply shouldered the slender lass and held a makeshift, thighbone club in the other hand.
In a vivid parallel to Rendon Howe, we found the Architect's bedroom just off the dungeons. His workspace and study revealed disturbing hints of his plans and abilities, but no details.
The idea that a bloody darkspawn had his own bed, complete with sheets and pillow, made my flesh crawl. It was like an abominable parody of a human.
Still, we were awake. We were free. And we were very, very good at killing darkspawn.
One by one, we stumbled across darkspawn wearing our gear. Oghren in particular took great offence at that, and let loose with a poorly worded curse that, given the sniggering, would undoubtedly have Anders poking fun at him for the rest of his life. Or until the end of Anders' life, if he pushed Oghren too far.
I felt a sense of overwhelming relief on reclaiming Spellweaver and my beautiful armour. Nathaniel breathed a prayer of thanks to the Maker's bride on retrieving his family's bow. Sigrun howled in fury at the darkspawn wearing Hirol's armour, and proved to be quite... out of character with it.
As more of our party were reunited with their armour and weapons, the darkspawn became even less of a threat. Just in time, as a familiar scent wafted along the rough corridor.
"Dragon!" I spat with excitement. "Excellent!"
Oghren glanced at me. "No dragon that'd fit these tunnels would make you better armour, Kat," he pointed out.
I shook my head. "Not to kill. To capture."
"What?" came at me from several directions.
"Listen," I said earnestly. "I want some dragons to raise at Soldier's Peak. Just the dragonlings, or even better, some dragon eggs."
"Are you insane?" Anders gaped, adjusting Seranni to his other shoulder.
I shook my head. "No." I stopped and considered the question, then waved my hand. "Well maybe, but that's beside the point. Listen - orders. One, any dragonkin less than eight feet long from snout to tail - stun or paralyse. I reckon we can train them that young. Two, anything bigger, kill. Got it?"
Sigrun nodded and rubbed her hands together, her eyes alight. "I would have loved a pet dragon when I was a child."
Nathaniel, who looked rather distressed at belonging to such an insane outfit, blinked owlishly at her. "Er, why?"
She shrugged. "Because pet nugs would always get nicked and eaten. No dwarf in Dust Town would try to steal a pet dragon."
His expression turned into one of uncomprehending acceptance. "I, er, okay. I guess I can see that."
Before we found any dragons however, we ran across a Warden survivor from Vigil's Keep. Keenan was in a bad way; crippled, in pain and fatally depressed. He did not wish to fight, or leave. He simply wanted to give into despair and let death claim him.
"Leave him," Velanna demanded. "We should not bother wasting our time on lost causes."
I turned to face her slowly, letting my rage flare into my aura. Once I had her full attention, spoke to Anders without letting my eyes leave her face. With sarcasm dripping in my tone, I said, "Velanna is right, Anders. Dump any random lost cause you happen to be carrying. Let's not bother wasting time on them."
She actually had the grace to blush, but did not answer. She turned on her heel and stormed off to a corner to sulk.
Keenan watched the exchange without curiosity. "there is a darkspawn here carrying a huge maul. He crushed my legs. He took my wedding ring. Please, Commander, slay him. Bring the ring to my wife, Nida, in Amaranthine. Tell her I died trying to make this world better."
"No," I said without pity. "You can give it to her yourself if you want. Anders? Check him out please."
"My legs are ruined," he insisted.
"Let me see," Anders insisted, his hands glowing blue.
It took some time to convince Keenan that we were not going to leave him behind. Even if he couldn't fight hand to hand, he could shoot a bow. If he couldn't go on patrol or scouting missions, he could make traps or poisons. If he couldn't train recruits, he could be trained as an archivist.
I wasn't about to ever let one of my Wardens think they were useless.
Anders' expression indicated that he didn't have great expectations, however. After nearly half an hour of healing, Keenan was judged to be out of danger of infection. Between Nathaniel and Oghren, he was pulled upright. Though painful, he could hobble along with one arm around Nathaniel's shoulders for support. He was handed a crude crossbow we'd looted and a small quiver of bolts. With a weapon in hand, a glint of fire appeared in his eyes.
I covered a smile. Sometimes a tiny flicker of hope is all that's needed to dispel the darkness.
We pressed on towards the stench of draconic guano. Several dragonlings rushed out at us. Though some were killed, almost a dozen were stunned or paralysed. We bound their wings, muzzles and legs with strips of torn cloth, unused bow strings or leather thongs scavenged from the tunnels. They'd not hold forever, but hopefully for long enough.
Keenan screamed a furious battle-cry at the sight of a hammer-wielding darkspawn, and let loose bolt after bolt at him. A large drake fought by the creature's side, which made for an interesting fight. But with three powerful mages in our party, there was never going to be other outcome.
The drake and Big Hammer were guarding a nest and hatchery for dragonlings. There were some unhatched eggs and several fenced off stalls. Most convenient really.
We went back and collected the dragonlings while Anders fixed the few wounds we'd received and did some more of his magic on Keenan and Seranni. It took three people to man-handle a single uncooperative dragonling into a stall, even one already tied up. An hour or so later, we had six tiny dragons penned up and ready for transportation. Once we were out of here, of course.
In a surreal scene, we discovered an untainted, yet inexplicably free, qunari merchant by the name of Armaas. The taciturn fellow had been captured, yet had managed to convince the darkspawn to free him in exchange for service. He carved out a profitable existence, and had proven so useful that he had been allowed to stay in the underground complex unmolested. He had even been promised 'protection' from the taint in return for his supplies.
Such a resourceful chap. Full of lies, in all probability, but he had intelligence on this operation I could use.
I pointed out that his customers were now mostly dead, and that Vigil's Keep could use someone of his ability. Armaas agreed, and promised to meet us there.
And that was that. The second qunari I'd ever met and even though he was a merchant, and a Tal Vashoth at that, he was just as blunt as Sten.
We purchased some supplies from him, water and food mostly. Thus fortified, we pushed through some nearby doors and down a long corridor to discover what looked like an arena.
I could feel a darkspawn of great power nearby, like a dark, heavy blot on my mental map of the world. He popped his head up and over a landing, looking down on us with an offensive ambivalence.
It was my first good look at the Architect. My eyes had been unaccustomed to the gloom when it had put us to sleep, and my senses were swimming when it experimented on me. Its eyes were offset and there were narrow spikes of bone protruding from its neck. It was tall. Taller even than Sten or Shale. The top of the malformed head almost topped eight feet. But the figure was emaciated, its joints protruded from its flesh. On a human, it would be a sign of severe malnutrition, but this creature stood tall without a hint of weakness.
A sense of magic swirled around him, despite the fact that he was maintaining no visible spells. My throat went dry at the thought. Not even Flemeth had such an aura of power. In a straight battle of magical power, I suspected that it would defeat me without difficulty. But I was not just a mage. I was a Grey Warden. And I didn't fight fair.
A tainted dwarven woman in old, battered armour stood at his side.
The pair looked at each other, communicating silently. He looked over across the arena, where the silence was shattered by the roar of a dragon. A big one.
Two big ones, at that.
They weren't high dragons, which was somewhat of a relief. I judged my company well able to take on the pair without resorting to any contingency measures I was desperate to keep secret.
I had Spellweaver ready and glittering as I charged, screaming orders at my companions. Thunder darted ahead, bravely meeting the enormous creatures head on. Oghren stormed along a step behind me, his axe out and hungry.
Before I could close to spell range on one, the second landed hard on the ground nearby, flattening Oghren and me. Spellweaver skittered from my grasp over the rough stone. I swore, rolled onto my back and began casting soul-sapping curses at the recently-grounded dragon.
I felt a wash of healing energy, making me pleased that Anders was observant, but annoyed that he'd spent so much power on me when I wasn't particularly injured. The draconic target of my spells roared at me, and began to charge.
I stopped spell casting and prepared to time a quick roll out of its path. Sigrun however, had other plans. She launched an attack on the dragon's flank, striking at the front leg's knee joint with her mace. The dragon stumbled part way through its charge, crashing hard to the floor.
I blinked. Now there's an idea. I rose to my feet and cast a spell that amplified the power of my subsequent spellwork at the expense of tiring me more quickly.
"Oghren!" I shouted, trying to catch his attention as he charged through the other dragon's fiery breath to swat his axe at its face. "Make the dragon fly!"
"Aye!" he shouted back, and changed his angle of attack to the dragon's limbs. Thunder ceased his attack on the dragon's legs, and leapt at the tail instead.
I took a second to observe the field of battle. Sigrun, Oghren and I were all within striking distance of at least one of the dragons, while Anders, Velanna, Nathaniel and Keenan had taken up positions near the doors. Nathaniel's arrows were as accurate as any Dalish archer I'd seen, but Keenan's bolts were a bit more wild. Velanna's spells were esoteric, but appeared effective at dealing injury and crippling pain.
The dragon under attack by Oghren and Thunder screamed, swatted my mabari across the room with a swing of its tail, and jumped into the air with a powerful beat of its wings. I grinned and waited until it had gained some height. I then tossed the most effective petrification spell I had. Not at the dragon on the ground, but at the one in flight.
Specifically, at its wings.
The spell shot out and struck true, but was barely effective; the creature's innate resistance was difficult to overcome. But it did stiffen one wing for a couple of seconds. Which was more than enough.
Unable to beat its wings properly, it began twisting and spinning out of control. The dragon screamed in rage as it plunged and smashed hard into the stubby remains of a thick stone column. Masonry went flying, stone chips and dust filled the air. The dragon however was all but out of the fight.
"That's my girl!" Oghren shouted proudly. He charged at the dragon and leapt onto its back, burying his axe hard into the base of the creature's neck. It quivered and lay still.
"Anders!" I called, glancing over at the unmoving figure of my mabari. "Fix Thunder!"
Trusting that he'd do as I asked, I ran over and retrieved my weapon. With it back in hand, I looked up at the Architect and the dwarf woman. They stood in still silence, content to observe the battle. I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Andraste for small mercies. Dealing with a pair of dragons and a powerful spell caster would have been problematic at best.
I ran back to the last dragon. I could have hit it with ice, fire or lightning, but Sigrun and Oghren were bashing it in close quarters. I figured that I'd use the skills we'd learned while taking down Flemeth and the false Andraste. I timed my run up to allow me to leap onto its back.
Warm, rough scales are difficult at the best of times to get purchase on, and when the creature is bucking and slithering beneath you, staying on is all but impossible. I stabbed Spellweaver down hard. The point struck one scale and scraped across it, but slid under the next scale. I grabbed one of the raised ridges running down the length of its spine, and with a grunt of effort, shoved my blade between the scales and into the dragon's flesh.
It reared back with a shriek of agony, dislodging me but giving Nathaniel and Keenan a delightful target. I landed hard with a curse, feeling something break in my leg. Screaming through the pain, I unleashed my magic upon the dragon too, trying to crush it in a prison of pure force.
On such a large creature the spell was less effective, but it did restrict its movement somewhat. With one dwarf hacking at its side and another breaking its legs, two mages leeching its life force and a pair of archers peppering it with pointed objects, it lasted barely another minute.
Anders was at my side before the dragon stopped moving. Under his ministrations, I was able to rise to my feet in a defensive stance in less than fifteen seconds.
It was not needed. The Architect did not attack. It did not curse us for destroying his pets and minions. It did not even break into monologue promising our painful deaths. It simply turned and drifted away through a roughly-hewn tunnel, calling on a powerful earth spell to seal the tunnel behind it and the silent dwarf woman.
It was quite anticlimactic, leaving the silverite mines. Despite everything that had happened, we had been successful in our goals. Velanna had her sister back and would no longer destroy caravans. The darkspawn in the area were temporarily eradicated. We collected everything we needed, loading everything onto our wagons.
The soldiers had long since cleared the path, and our arrival back at the merchant camp was cause for quite some relief. Velanna kept her hood up as we explained things to the merchants. While they were happy that the main cause of their concern was dealt with, they were less than pleased to discover that the Wardens would be heading back to Vigil's Keep. Still, they would be accompanied to the arling's border by the rest of the guards, who should be up to the task.
With the Warden wagons filled with a missing Warden, some silverite ore from inside the mine, samples of the dark granite from outside the mine, a half dozen magically bound and slumbering baby dragons, a couple of dragon eggs and a snoozing, tainted elf with invaluable intelligence on our enemy, I was in a very positive mood.
I was obliged to drive one of the wagons myself, Anders being otherwise occupied with a pair of patients. Keenan's mood still swung markedly, from tearful joy at surviving his ordeal to dark, foul depression at the idea of never walking unaided again. Anders was confident that he would be able to eventually walk under his own power, but the man seemed determined to cling to the worst scenario.
Velanna hovered over her slumbering sister's form almost constantly. Eventually she left her side long enough to sit in the drivers seat with me. Even at walking pace, she looked a bit green with the rocking motion. "Tell me more of this ritual. The one that will save Seranni."
I gave her a disgusted look. "No."
"What?" she blurted, shock on her features.
I sighed. "It's a Grey Warden secret. Once your sister undergoes the ritual, she will either master the taint in her veins, or be overwhelmed by it and die. If she survives, she will be a Grey Warden. There is nothing more I will tell you."
She huffed a bit at that, but long hours travelling with Wynne had inured me to such passive-aggressive behaviour. After a few moments of unproductive silence, Velanna got the message and said, "Very well. Should she survive your ritual, will she be permitted to return home with me?"
I shook my head. "No. As I said, she would be a Grey Warden. Her entire life will be spent fighting darkspawn. We will question her about the experiences she has suffered, to learn what we can. She will then be one of us, stationed either at Vigil's Keep or at another fortress the Grey Wardens possess."
Velanna's lips twisted into a snarl. "So I was always going to lose my sister. Either to that disgusting wretch in the mines, to the taint, or to the Grey Wardens."
I scoffed at her theatrics. "Right. Because being a Grey Warden is just like being dead or a ghoul."
She huffed again. I was learning to translate that as, 'I am wrong, but I'll see you gutted before I admit it'.
I decided to try a different tactic. "Look, you wanted to take your sister home, right? Were you going to make sure she never left again? Were you going to stay there with her?"
"No," she replied, her tone clipped.
That was interesting. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was biting her lip. Very interesting. "So, what's the difference? She will be safe with us. Well, as safe as one can be while belonging to a militant order constantly battling monsters."
"The difference is that she will not be among our people!"
"So? She will be serving them all the same."
Velanna threw her hands up in the air. "But she will never see them again!"
I rolled my eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. I will probably utilise her as a messenger between the Wardens and the nearby Dalish clans. I'll have her teach the Wardens woodcraft. Archery - if she's not a mage, that is. She was carrying a sword and dagger in the mines, so I assume she's not a Keeper or a Keeper's apprentice."
"She is not."
I nodded. "Fine. I expect that once she becomes accustomed to life as a Warden, she will be able to visit your clan regularly. Often, if I can help it. I intend to establish good relations with the local Dalish."
She sat in silence for a long while. "Will you continue to track the darkspawn who corrupted her?"
"Yes."
Again, she lapsed into silence. With all the recent changes to her worldview, I suspected that she'd be doing a lot of thinking over the next few days.
It was late afternoon as we approached Vigil's Keep. We were still half a mile away when I noticed that there was something wrong.
I held up a hand and pulled back on the tethers, slowing my ox to a halt. The other wagons followed suit.
"What's up, Kat?" Oghren growled out.
I gestured towards the Keep. "There's no one on the walls."
Sigrun frowned. "You can see that far?" she said with wonder.
I nodded. I suppose long-distance vision wouldn't be a necessary survival trait underground. "Yes. I can. And the last time that happened, darkspawn overran the sodding Keep."
"The gate under the Keep would hold off the whole horde," Oghren pointed out. "It ain't likely to be darkspawn."
I nodded. "I hope you're right. I can't feel any nearby, but we may be too far away yet." I looked over the wagons. Filled with stuff ranging from invaluable to irreplaceable, I was not about to risk them. "Thunder, Nathaniel, you're with me. The rest of you, stay with the wagons. I'll send Thunder out to get you if we need help."
I tossed the reins to Velanna, who looked down at them in bafflement. Nathaniel tied his reins off, and swung down without comment.
"It's unlikely, but this could be a diversion," I said as I settled my weapons and armour. "Keep an eye out. I'll send for you as soon as possible."
My first peasant uprising. Just sodding wonderful.
As I struck the last of the agitators down, I almost vomited. Killing monsters, not a problem - all in a day's work. Dragons, bloody difficult but damned satisfying. Templars, bring them on. Assassins, great for taking your frustrations out on.
Starving peasants though… no. It wasn't heroic. It wasn't clean. It wasn't honourable. It was a dirty, soul-sapping business, more so because the poor sods were so outclassed that they were dead the moment they refused to back down.
And now, the families they left behind were even more worse off.
"Peasant uprisings. They never end well," Garavel said, his voice hard, yet sympathetic.
Varel looked at the younger man. "There had to be another way."
"None that would convince them not to rise up again," Nathaniel said sadly as he unstrung his bow.
I knelt down beside the apparent leader of the uprising. Something odd caught my eye.
Garavel shook his head at Varel's comment. "You know as well as I, if you give in to the mob, you're ruled by the mob."
Varel paused for a moment, but sighed and gave a small nod. "You're right, Garavel. I'll be in the keep."
"Wait," I said, looking around at the bodies. "This isn't right."
Varel sighed. "I agree, Commander. The deaths here today were-"
No!" I snapped. "Look at them!" I pointed at one of the bodies. "This one looks as though he could arm-wrestle Alistair. And this one here has got forearms like a bear."
Garavel and Varel shared a look. "Peasants do physical labour all day, Commander," Garavel said carefully, as though I was missing this knowledge.
"I know that," I snapped. "But look at them. For a bunch of people who were ranting about starving, they certainly look well fed, don't you think?"
Varel looked at the man at my feet and frowned. He glanced at another body, then another. Both he and Garavel strode forward to get a better look. I crouched down and forced the mouth of one dissident open, peering inside. The man's teeth were not the usual, discoloured and rotting stumps you'd expect on someone sitting on the lowest rung of the feudal ladder.
Still in a crouch, I looked around the killing field. "And another thing. Wouldn't a real uprising have a few more participants? Like, ten times more at least."
Garavel swallowed. "Just be glad there were so few, Commander. I had to pull guards off other duties to keep order here until you arrived."
I snapped my head around to face him. "You what?" I snapped at the guard captain as Nathaniel cursed under his breath in realisation. He began restringing his bow. Just knowing that he was capable of figuring things out was remarkably comforting.
Garavel blinked and stepped back a pace at my sudden agression. "I, er, I had to pull some guards off their posts to maintain order here. If there were more involved in the uprising, I wouldn't have been able to hold them away from the keep."
I slapped a hand to my face, while Nathaniel just grimaced. "You want me to handle this one?" he asked me softly.
"If you would," I said indistinctly from behind my hand.
"A peasant uprising consists of hundreds of people, not dozens," Nathaniel said, gesturing around at the bodies. "However, if you want to draw forces away from your real attack, you send out a force just large enough to force your opponent to respond."
Garavel's face paled as his eyes widened. "Then..."
"Then this is a distraction," Varel completed for him. "And the main attack is elsewhere."
"But where?" Garavel said, his eyes scanning the walls.
I rose to my feet and readied Spellweaver. "They're in the Keep already, man!" I snapped. "While you're out here playing with their pawns, they're taking control inside!"
A group of nobles and some hirelings were waiting for us in the main hall. Instead of silk gowns and velvet doublets, silverite armour and slender swords were in fashion. Varel demanded to know the meaning of their presence. I resisted rolling my eyes. The man seemed incapable of staying on top of current events.
"I am here about the good arl. The good arl you killed," Esmerelle said, glaring at me with hatred.
And there's the other shoe, I thought. The poor bastards out in the courtyard were just the overture, an attempt to weaken me before the main event.
"You're still loyal to Arl Howe?" Varel gasped, stating the obvious with impressive astonishment. I took the opportunity to look around the hall. Noblemen, noblewomen, assorted toadies and a handful of suspiciously competent-looking professionals. With facial tattoos. I might just have to pay a certain Antivan merchant in Denerim a visit after this.
"Rendon was good to us. Good to me. And now his death will finally be avenged."
"Over my dead body," Nathaniel growled. His announcement sent a shiver of relief down my spine, though I did hope his words were not prophetic.
One assassin I'd missed stepped out from behind a pillar and fired a heavy crossbow in my direction. My surprise at the new threat was trumped by Varel proving that despite appearances, he was capable of reacting to immediate threats. As I was dodging to the right, he placed himself on the line, ending up with the bolt sticking through his forearm.
"Thunder!" I snapped, pointing at the bowman with my left hand. "Rip his nuts off!"
One thing about men I'd learned - if you threatened to simply kill them, they often ignored the taunt. Threaten to immasculate them however, and suddenly they become a touch defensive.
The crow dropped the crossbow and dropped into a defensive crouch, one hand drawing a wicked dagger, the other cupping his groin. My mabari crashed into him like an avalanche.
Garavel had his two-handed sword out and screamed, "TRAITORS!" as he leapt into the fray with a huge, overhand sweep. Suddenly pressed on all sides, Nathaniel dropped his bow and drew silverite blades. The enchantments glittered in the firelight as he swung them around in a defensive pattern, eyeing the approaching nobles and assassins.
A dozen conspirators facing down a handful of defenders.
They didn't bring nearly enough firepower.
I lashed out with a concussive wave of mental energy. Noble after noble stumbled and swayed, rendered senseless by the magical force. The assassins however managed to retain their focus, and closed in on me.
Nathaniel held off two of them, his sword and dagger weaving a tight defense. The final three rushed at me, hoping to end the greater threat quickly.
They ran headlong into a sleep spell.
Honestly! Who doesn't bring templars to a magical fight?
The fight was ugly. And short.
The tattooed assassins were all dead, unfortunately. It would have been nice to be able to question at least one of them. Still, I knew where to find the crows in Denerim. Their deaths weren't a great loss.
Most of the nobles were also lying lifeless on the stone floor of my main hall. The rest were in the process of dying, their lifeblood spilling out a little too quickly for someone of my skills to save them all.
Not that I was inclined to try. The ringleader Esmerelle would have been my first choice for interrogation, but she fought with the determination of the damned. She would either succeed or die.
That level of commitment was admirable, I had to admit.
"First a riot, now this… Blast it. Varel's been hit. It looks glancing, he'll live."
I looked down at my pale and shaking seneschal. His breathing was coming in short, sharp gasps, and there was a definite sheen of perspiration on his forehead that had nothing to do with exertion. "That was a very brave thing he did," I offered, before turning to call over my shoulder. "Nathaniel? Are you injured?"
"No," he replied shortly, still breathing deeply after the recent exercise.
Thunder trotted up to me, blood staining his jowls. He wagged his tail and whuffed a satisfied greeting.
"Good boy," I said with a grin.
Varel's wound was not life-threatening. I scorched the fletching from the shaft and eased the bolt all the way through his arm. Once free, I healed the wound as well as I could.
The seneschal clenched his jaw tightly throughout the procedure. Once it was over, he took a deep breath and rose, a little unsteadily, to his feet.
"And thus ends the conspiracy," he said, with some satisfaction.
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AN: Thanks once again to MB18932, Nightbrainzz, Rhagar, Alifangirl21, Pintsizedpsycho, Hydroplatypus, anon and Arsinoe de Blassenville for your wonderful reviews.
Things are still a little hectic, so the next update will be in a couple of weeks. After that, we should be back to weekly updates. Cheers.