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The ghoul hobbled in front of Hawke, gesturing wildly at her. "We must go! Hurry, hurry!"
"I don't stir another step until I know who you are," she told him. "What is your name?"
It didn't seem like a difficult question, but it rocked the ghoul back several steps and set him to pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.
"Speak up!"
"Name? Name. So long since I've said … My name … La— La—" He looked up, beaming, and Hawke could see a brief flash of intelligence cross his face. "Larius! I was Larius." He frowned. "There was … There was a title, too. Co— Commander …"
"Commander of the Grey?" Anders asked.
"Yes! Yes, that was it." Larius looked him over, sniffing as though Anders carried a familiar scent. "You know. You feel."
Anders nodded. Faintly, he said, "Yes. You came here on your Calling?"
Larius's eyes cleared a little. "The Calling, yes. The songs get louder. Only death stops them. I—I hear them. I hear them always. You hear them, too, don't you?"
"No. No, of course not."
Hawke looked at Anders sharply. Something in his voice sounded—off. She wondered if his unnatural union with Justice kept him from hearing the songs, or if it made the songs louder.
"Hawke! The songs," Varric hissed at her.
She frowned at him. "What about them?"
"Bartrand. You remember? He kept saying he couldn't hear it anymore. Once he didn't have the idol."
Hawke's eyes widened. "You think the idol has something to do with Grey Wardens?"
"Or darkspawn."
For a moment she paused, thinking through the implications of that idea. Then she shook her head impatiently. "Something to discuss when we get back to Kirkwall."
"Right."
Anders hadn't been paying attention to them. He'd been circling Larius, studying him. Hawke recognized the expression he got when a tricky case was brought to the clinic. "Why aren't you dead?" he asked abruptly.
"Dead? Dead? I am dead. But I never died."
"Clear as mud," Varric muttered.
"Anders? What are you talking about?"
"There are darkspawn here. He should have been killed by them—should have been killed fighting them." Anders shook his head, drawing closer to Hawke and lowering his voice. "That he lives, that he still has some shreds of his former intelligence, but he has ceased fighting … I don't think we should trust him."
"Use him, yes. Trust him, no," she replied. She approached Larius, speaking loudly to try and get through to what intelligence still remained to him. "I've opened the seal. Will the prison release us now?" It certainly didn't feel as though it had. She felt the same sense of urgency emanating from the sword that she had before. Perhaps it was permanent; perhaps it would always feel like that. But she didn't think so. She thought that once the prison was opened, the sword's magic would be gone. Still … she had to ask.
Larius shook his head violently. "No. Not released, not yet. There are more. Follow them in. All the way to the heart. Many locks; only one key." Suddenly his head lifted sharply, and he looked around him in alarm.
Next to Hawke, Anders shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't speak.
"C-Corypheus calls!" Larius whispered. "In the darkness! What waits there?"
Whatever waited in the darkness, Varric devoutly wished he wasn't going to have to find out. But they were trapped here, and the only way out was through the darkness, through the menace that lurked there for Hawke.
Without another word, the weird ex-Warden thing hobbled away, across the bridge, skirting the rubble more agilely than his mental state would indicate he should be able to, in Varric's opinion. He was about to point that out to Hawke when Blondie stiffened, turning to look across the chasm. All of them could see the darkspawn approach now, in the openings between the pillars that held up the tower.
"Here we go again," Blondie said, frowning. "Remember to keep your mouths closed, and if you're wounded, fall back to bind it up. You do not want darkspawn blood getting inside you. Not so much as a drop."
All of them nodded soberly. If any one of them had been tempted not to take his words seriously, the wreck of a human that Larius had become would have convinced them to believe.
Hawke drew the strange sword, looking at it in a way that made Varric distinctly uncomfortable. Idol worship was idol worship, whether it was a hunk of red something or another found in a forgotten thaig or a big shiny piece of metal that your father had inexplicably left you in a forgotten tower. For now, they appeared to need the sword to get them through this nightmare, but once they were out of here, breathing free air, well on their way back to Kirkwall and reality, such as it was, he was going to take that sword and drop it in the harbor where it could never cause trouble again.
The darkspawn were in sight now, and Hawke began to rush forward, but Varric caught her by the arm. "Hold back. Let the rest of us weaken them first. I'm not losing you to the damned taint. Not if Bianca can help it." He patted the crossbow before aiming it and taking down one of the big human-looking darkspawn with a bolt through the forehead.
To his relief, Hawke listened. He hadn't been sure she would. She held back until the mages' spells and Bianca's bolts had thinned the herd of darkspawn significantly, before charging in with the sword held above her head, her kerchief over her mouth to catch the blood spatter, if there was any.
It didn't take long, but they were all exhausted once it was over.