A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part Three)
Title: A Separate Path - Chapter Ten (Legacy: Part Three)
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline, Bethany, Nathaniel
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Bethany/Nathaniel (yearning and pining)
Rating: PG-13
Thirty minutes later, the banter had died (at least temporarily-- if there was one thing in the world that Anders was certain of, it was his friends' ability to crack jokes in the face of near-certain doom) after they found themselves sealed into an ancient Warden base of some kind. Nathaniel denied any knowledge of the underground tower, though he guessed it had to be centuries old, at least, based on the archaic Warden crests on the walls.
And, as Anders had come to expect from anything associated with the Wardens, the place was crawling with darkspawn. They were currently fighting off wave after wave of genlocks in a long, narrow room. The air was thick with old magic, spells and bindings that had stood for years, if not decades. Anders had a feeling he'd be really impressed once he wasn't busy keeping his friends from bleeding to death.
Aveline decapitated the last of the creatures and looked around. “Is that all of them?” she asked, looking to both Wardens for confirmation.
Anders cocked his head to the side and nodded. “I think so,” he said. “I mean, they're still out there,” he waved a hand at the wall, “but not so close that they're about to attack.”
Emma walked towards the glowing magical barrier, sword in hand, frowning. A dark cloud of swirling blue and black smoke had appeared near the barrier. Something about it suggested a human form and a pair of bright blue eyes staring out at them. She stopped suddenly, eyes wide, as a deep voice echoed through the room. “Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be.”
That was a binding spell; Anders recognized it from the Circle. But who--?
“That's-- that's Father's voice,” Bethany said, voice faint with shock. “How could-- how is that possible?”
Emma shook her head. “I don't...” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Anders?”
He sighed and walked to the barrier, peering past the swirling magic as best he could. “He bound something here,” he said. “A demon of some kind. This is powerful, powerful magic. It's not a spell so much as a ritual. It takes time and energy and-and sacrifice. He would have had to have left something of himself behind here to hold it for so long.”
“But why?” Bethany asked. “Why would he bind a demon here, rather than just destroy it?”
Anders swallowed hard. There were any number of ways to deal with demons-- negotiation and trickery were more common and required less of the caster, but they could be bound as well. Malcolm Hawke wouldn't have destroyed the demon if he needed it for something. The whole thing reeked of blood magic. “I-I don't know,” he lied.
“Should we just leave it?” Varric asked.
He shrugged. “We could,” he said. “Or we could try to destroy it ourselves. There's six of us and one of it... perhaps your father wasn't able to defeat it on his own, so he bound it instead?” A very, very unlikely explanation. If he had the power to create a binding like this, then he would have been able to mop the floor with a demon. But whatever need Malcolm had for the demon was long since passed.
Emma nodded. “Right. How would we... undo this, I guess?”
Anders turned from the barrier and looked around the room. “There,” he said, pointing. “He worked the binder's symbols into the Warden crests. Two there, and then one on the barrier here. I'd bet good coin that these are tied to your new sword, sweetheart.”
“So I just, what, hit it with the sword?”
He grinned. “Seems to work pretty well for you most of the time.”
She rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the crests. She raised the sword, but before she could swing, the symbol shattered, little tendrils of red energy flickering through the air briefly before fading. “Oh. Guess I don't need to hit it after all,” she said, walking to the other side of the room. Anders moved away from the barrier quickly as Emma undid the second one. “Right,” she said, glancing at Aveline, who stood beside her, shield raised. “This shouldn't be too difficult.”
Varric groaned. “For the love of my ancestors, Hawke--”
The third seal broke and the barrier fell. For a few seconds, the six of them tore into the demon with blades and arrows and spells. Then a barrier came up around it and half a dozen new shades shot up into the room. “Only one of them, he says,” Varric grumbled. “It'll be easy, she says.”
Anders rolled his eyes and slashed at one of the shades with the bladed end of his staff. Bethany cast an ice spell, freezing it in place, and he moved back towards the wall. As soon as the primary shade's barrier fell, they turned on it again, and within a few seconds, it summoned another wave of demons. Maybe I was right about him not being able to defeat it on his own, Anders thought, sending a burst of healing energy to his companions. This is ridiculous.
Finally, the bound demon fell, dissolving into slime and smoke. The blue cloud faded back into view, the human shape a bit clearer this time. “I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place,” Malcolm said, “but I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world.”
The cloud drifted away, almost as if the figure within it was walking, and vanished. Anders and Nathaniel looked at each other. “Demons,” Anders repeated. “Grey Wardens using demons for... something. You know, coming here is giving me reasons to leave the Wardens that I didn't even know existed!”
Nathaniel sighed. “You know the Wardens do what is necessary to defeat the darkspawn,” he said. “But, yes, it is troubling.”
The sound of poison slithered through his mind; Anders was vaguely aware of Nathaniel snapping to attention and turning to look the same direction he was. “More of them,” Anders said. “We should move.”
“Agreed,” Nathaniel said. Aveline took the lead out of the room. Emma remained still, staring at the place where the ghost of her father had been.
Anders gently touched the back of her neck. “You all right, love?”
“I-- yeah, it's just... it's been ten years since I've heard his voice,” she said. “I almost didn't recognize him at first. He’s my father, shouldn't I...” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. Let's-- let's just go.”
He nodded and walked with her out of the room. As they'd sensed, there were more darkspawn waiting, along with an abandoned Warden camp and research notes that had Nathaniel and Anders complaining to each other about the Architect. They fought their way past a nest of genlocks and started onto a bridge leading to the tower in the middle of the apparent prison. The darkspawn were a constant noise in his head, but there was something else, too, something behind it, quiet and faint, like a half-forgotten dream...
Something moved in the rubble ahead of them, and Emma slowed, holding up a hand to stop the others. The figure limped towards them, hunched over, arms nearly brushing the ground. He was human, probably, Anders thought, his hair filthy and torn out in clumps, eyes nearly solid white. Anders shuddered faintly.
“The key!” the man rasped, scurrying over. “Did they find it? The dwarves... I heard them. Looking. Digging. How do you bring the key here?” He twitched as he spoke, shoulders hunched, unable to stand up straight. His armor was badly patched and filthy, but there was something familiar about it... Anders could feel the taint humming faintly in his veins and swallowed hard. What happened to him?
Emma seemed somewhat less disturbed than he felt. “Ah, so they were right, it is a key,” she said, holding up the blade. “What's it unlock?”
“It's magic... old magic, it is. Magic from the blood.” Anders winced. Not good. “It made the seals. It can destroy them.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the others. Anders shrugged, and judging by the mildly exasperated look on Emma's face, no one else had any helpful suggestions. She sighed and turned back to the man. “So, let me guess: you want to drink my blood too?”
“Blood?” The man looked surprised. “The blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke?”
“One of them, yes,” Emma replied, drumming her fingers on her armor. “If you're going to try to kill me and my sister for our apparently very special blood, let's just get on with it.”
“No, you-- you hold the key! The key to his death!” The man nodded, smiling, revealing broken and stained teeth. “Yes, I can show you out. Yes...”
“Right,” she drawled. “Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people.”
Anders raised a hand and opened his mouth to argue. Aveline and Nathaniel swatted him from both sides, and he lowered his arm, pouting a bit. “Not crazy,” the man said. “Tainted, yes, but no more than them.” He pointed at Anders, then Nathaniel, smiling again. “You hear it, don't you. The call. It sings to you.”
Nathaniel stared at him stonily. Anders looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “You said you knew how to get out,” Emma snapped. “Let's hear it.”
“I know the prison's secrets,” the man replied. “The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key.” He pointed to the sword. “You must use it, yes. On the seals. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke...” Emma half-turned in the direction they'd come; the man shook his head. “Not back. Not up. Only way out is down and through the heart. Down and in... down and in...” he walked off, muttering, towards the tower.
Several seconds passed in silence before anyone spoke. “Well,” Anders said with false cheer. “That made everything much clearer!”
Emma shook her head. “Let's just go,” she said. “The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”
“My thoughts exactly, Hawke,” Varric said.
She led them across the bridge towards the tower. Anders paused, spotting a few pieces of paper trapped under a rock, and gently wedged them free. More notes from the Wardens. They're not very careful with their research, are they, he thought, his attention divided between walking and skimming the paper. A few phrases leaped out at him: “blood magic ritual,” “a mage of untainted blood,” “one-way access.” He glanced up at Emma and Bethany and carefully refolded the paper, slipping it into his pocket.
“Well,” Emma announced as they entered the tower. “That looks like a magical seal to me.”
The glowing green circle was just about everything one could expect in a seal fueled by demonic rituals. Anders sighed as Emma approached, sword in hand. Varric had Bianca in his arms, clearly expecting trouble.
It was truly annoying when people's pessimism kept being proved right. Made holding onto a cheery disposition so difficult. Emma nearly knocked Aveline to the ground when a monstrous, glowing beast rose up from the seal and hurled her backwards. The creature was massive, easily twice Anders's height, and hurled fireballs with abandon. A backhanded swing took Anders off his feet and threw him into the tower wall. He slumped to the floor, stunned; he knew he had to get up and help, but his body wasn't quite listening to him.
Something hummed faintly, at the edge of his senses but growing stronger, almost the way that the darkspawn felt; but where darkspawn were poison and toxin, this was sweet and cool, like ice water when he was parched. If he could just hear it better, maybe he could make sense of it, find the source...
“Anders!” Bethany grabbed his shoulder, pouring healing energy into him.
He groaned, blinking at her. “Glad t'see you remembered my lessons,” he said with a crooked grin. The humming didn't fade, didn't recede, but it was easier to ignore with other things to focus on.
She helped him to his feet and led him to the others. Anders cast a general healing spell over all of them-- no way had anyone made it out of that without at least a few bruises.
“The blood works,” the man said, slinking into the room from behind them. Anders frowned, wondering how he’d gotten back around like that. “The blood is good… blood of the Hawke…”
He started to walk away; Emma strode after him and grabbed his shoulder. “Who are you?” she snapped. “How do you know all this?”
The man turned back towards her, frowning. “Who am I…?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Yes. Do you have a name?”
“My name… so long since I’ve said my name,” he murmured. “La… Larius. I was Larius! And there was a title, too. Commander… Commander of the Grey.”
Nathaniel blinked. “You were the Commander of the Free Marches?” he asked. “What happened?”
Larius stared at a point past them. “The songs get louder... the Calling cannot be ignored. Cannot be denied. Only death stops it. I am dead. But I never died.”
Nathaniel's eyes widened. “Maker,” he murmured. “Is that what it looks like?”
“Anders, what's he talking about?” Emma turned around, glancing between him and Nathaniel in confusion.
Anders swallowed hard, the blood draining from his face. He glanced over at Nathaniel, who had traitorously fixed his gaze on the ground. “I-- we should talk about this later,” he started. Not here. Not now, not like this--
Emma's stance shifted only slightly, but he knew her well enough to recognize the narrowed eyes, the tilt to her chin, everything that meant she wasn't letting this go. “No, Anders, I think you need to explain now,” she said icily.
Larius made a strange, wheezing noise, and it took Anders a moment realize the man was laughing. “Foolish of you,” he muttered. “Shouldn't get involved with those outside the Order. Nothing to explain that way, no one to get left behind--”
“Shut up,” Nathaniel said flatly.
Emma stared at him. “Anders?”
He looked away. “Wardens... we're able to resist the darkspawn corruption, but at a cost. We're not immune forever. Eventually we start to hear voices. The same ones the darkspawn hear. It calls us, just like it calls them.”
“And then?”
“Normally, we-Wardens-go into the Deep Roads and die fighting the darkspawn,” he said. “But if you don’t die…” Flames, he’d never really understood the purpose of it, but now, seeing Larius, knowing that if he was alive in thirty years that would be him… he shuddered slightly.
She let out a breath that sounded close to a sob. Anders glanced back up at her. She was still staring at him, equal parts anger, grief, and betrayal in her eyes. Beside him, Bethany had pressed a hand to her mouth, looking back and forth between him and Nathaniel in outright horror. “How long?” Emma asked, voice choked.
Anders closed his eyes briefly. “Thirty years,” he said. “More or less.”
“We've been Wardens for almost five years,” Nathaniel added. “Joined within a day of each other.”
Emma let out a slow, shaky breath. “You were right,” she said quietly. “I should have asked you later.” Slowly, she turned back around to face Larius. She questioned him about the prison, but Anders barely heard them over the blood rushing in his head and the faint, sweet music at the edge of his senses.
Larius shuffled off, and Emma followed, heading out of the tower. Anders ran to catch up with her and grabbed her arm. “Emma, I’m--”
“Don’t,” she said wearily. “Just… not now, okay? I can’t deal with this right now.” She gently pulled her arm free and walked away.
Anders stood stock-still, his stomach twisted into painful knots, as the others followed Emma out. Nathaniel stopped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said quietly.
He let his friend lead him along after the rest of the group. His gaze flickered up to Emma and Bethany, who were walking side-by-side, talking quietly. His chest ached. I must have them.
Nathaniel tensed slightly and drew in a sharp, quiet breath. Anders looked over at him. “Did you… hear that?” he asked.
The archer nodded and looked back at the Hawkes. “And the-the song? Do you…?”
“Yeah.” Anders swallowed hard. “This isn’t good.”
“No.” Nathaniel looked away. “No, it’s not.”
*
‘Not good’ turned out to be something of an understatement.
They continued their descent into the Tower, through ruined passages and halls that were crawling with darkspawn. The song grew louder, and there were words now, whispers, talking of blood and freedom and power and sunlight. Through some unspoken agreement, neither he nor Nathaniel mentioned it to the others, though whether that was out of a wish to preserve Grey Warden secrets or some misplaced sense of masculine pride, Anders wasn't sure.
No one had spoken for almost five minutes, and the silence-- or rather, what spread through his mind to fill the silence-- was starting to drive him mad. Anders trailed a hand along the wall for balance, his eyes locked on the floor, because if he looked at Bethany or Emma the voice would start up again. And he didn't want to hear it, didn't want the whispers of freedom runs through their veins, my freedom, it is the only way that I will ever be free of the dark, that I will ever see the sun again, I must have it-- no, no, no no no, I'm not listening, I'm not listening!
“Anders?”
He started, blinking, at Emma's sudden appearance in front of him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he'd spoken out loud, and that everyone had stopped walking to look at him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The song grew incrementally louder. Emma frowned, her hand on his shoulder. “What's wrong?”
“I--” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don't...”
“It's Corypheus,” Nathaniel said abruptly. “It has influence over anything carrying the darkspawn taint.”
“Which includes the two of you,” Varric said.
Nathaniel nodded. “That's likely also why there are so many darkspawn here-- it's calling them. It wants something to free it.”
Emma glanced back and forth between the two Wardens. “How is it-- what is doing?”
“Singing, apparently,” Anders grumbled. At Emma's confused look, he shrugged and continued. “It's like a-- a song, in my head. And voices, sometimes.” That wasn't the truth, entirely, but how was he supposed to tell her it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and it was taking considerable willpower not to start running towards the sound?
“Will you two be all right?” Aveline asked.
Nathaniel and Anders exchanged glances. “Yes,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “For now. I would suggest that we act with haste, though. The longer we're in here...”
“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “Nathaniel, take point with Aveline, would you?” He inclined his head to her and strode away. She looked up at Anders, eyes wide with worry, her hand still resting on his shoulder.
Anders took a deep breath and straightened up. He was fine. He had to be fine. He could do this. “We should go,” he said, nodding at the others. “Don’t want to get left behind.”
She frowned, studying his face, and then nodded, wordlessly taking his hand as they headed down the tunnel.
*
“Hawke! There's another one,” Aveline said, leaning back through the doorway.
Emma sighed and followed after her. This was the third of Malcolm's bound demons that they'd found, after a few hours of battling through nests of darkspawn and climbing through half-collapsed tunnels. Anders had spent most of that time concentrating on staying near the others and casting healing spells over the song in his head. Conversation helped, when he could focus on it; he'd gotten nearly half an hour of distraction out of talking with Bethany about her father. Malcolm Hawke sounded like a good man, a good mage, and Anders kept hoping that somehow, he was wrong about the blood magic.
He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to push the song out to the edges of his mind as Emma broke the bindings holding the demon back. His blood bound me, her blood frees me, bring her to me, closer to freedom with each step, so long in darkness-- Anders choked as his vision went black. The walls closed in around him, and he couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't breathe. Just as quickly as the feeling came on, it passed, leaving him gasping, clutching his staff in a white-knuckled grip. The others were already fighting the desire demon and the waves of undead it summoned. Anders sucked in a breath through his teeth and forced himself to cast a repulsion glyph. He didn't need to get torn to pieces while their backs were turned.
Finally, the demon fell, and the shade of Malcolm Hawke reappeared. It had been getting clearer every time, and now Anders could see the man as he must have been thirty years ago: dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail, a thick beard, bright blue eyes. The Hawke sisters turned towards him, Emma smiling sadly at the image. “I've bought our freedom, Leandra,” Malcolm said. “We can go home now. Us and the baby. We'll be together.” He looked down. “I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one.”
Anders winced. Bethany's shoulders stiffened and he could see Emma grimacing. Malcolm's ghost closed his eyes. “May they never learn what I've done here.”
The image faded. Emma slowly turned back to face her sister. “He was talking about you,” Bethany said. “Mother must have been pregnant with you when they left Kirkwall.”
Emma shook her head. “But that-- the stories they told us about leaving... They always said...” She swallowed hard. “They lied to us,” she said finally, eyes wide with shock and betrayal. “Why would they lie?”
“Father didn't want us to know about this place,” Bethany said, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “They must have agreed not to tell us.”
Emma bit her lip. “Beth... what he said--”
“It's fine,” Bethany said quickly. “If he didn't want his child to be a mage, it never showed. My teachers and the mages in the Wardens all said I had excellent training.”
“He just didn't want us to be in more danger,” Emma said.
“I know,” Bethany replied. “And neither do I. It was probably better that I went to the Circle. You and Mother were safer.” Without me hung in the air, unspoken.
Emma grabbed her sister's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I don't care about safe,” she said. “It'd be worth it to have you back.”
Bethany laughed as she stepped back. “I do miss this,” she said. “Maybe not the craziness and the fighting and the running for our lives, but...” Her gaze flickered around the room, over the others, and she smiled. “Feeling like a family.”
“Yeah,” Emma said. “I miss it too.” She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “Okay. Right. Darkspawn to kill, yes? We should-- we should go.”
Aveline took point again, and Nathaniel sped up to walk by Bethany, speaking quietly to her as they went. Emma held her hand out to Anders; he pushed off the wall and walked over. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I... It's just been too much to really deal with right now,” she said. “Everything that's going on, I can't really... I'll worry about it later.”
Anders winced again and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a loose hug-- anything else would involve getting stabbed in the chest with the pointy bits on her armor. Emma leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, then stepped back, visibly steeling herself. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Fine.” I need the blood, let it spill out and free me...
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you sure?”
“I'm fine.”
“If you say so.” She took his hand and started to lead him from the room. Anders laced their fingers together; he could feel her pulse beating through her gloves, and his free hand was halfway to his knife before he realized what he was doing. He fisted his hand in his coat instead, trying to ignore the way it was trembling, trying to ignore the voice in his mind.
It laughed, softly, and the song grew louder.
Series: Dragon Age 2
Characters: Anders, Hawke, Varric, Aveline, Bethany, Nathaniel
Pairings: Anders/Hawke, Bethany/Nathaniel (yearning and pining)
Rating: PG-13
Thirty minutes later, the banter had died (at least temporarily-- if there was one thing in the world that Anders was certain of, it was his friends' ability to crack jokes in the face of near-certain doom) after they found themselves sealed into an ancient Warden base of some kind. Nathaniel denied any knowledge of the underground tower, though he guessed it had to be centuries old, at least, based on the archaic Warden crests on the walls.
And, as Anders had come to expect from anything associated with the Wardens, the place was crawling with darkspawn. They were currently fighting off wave after wave of genlocks in a long, narrow room. The air was thick with old magic, spells and bindings that had stood for years, if not decades. Anders had a feeling he'd be really impressed once he wasn't busy keeping his friends from bleeding to death.
Aveline decapitated the last of the creatures and looked around. “Is that all of them?” she asked, looking to both Wardens for confirmation.
Anders cocked his head to the side and nodded. “I think so,” he said. “I mean, they're still out there,” he waved a hand at the wall, “but not so close that they're about to attack.”
Emma walked towards the glowing magical barrier, sword in hand, frowning. A dark cloud of swirling blue and black smoke had appeared near the barrier. Something about it suggested a human form and a pair of bright blue eyes staring out at them. She stopped suddenly, eyes wide, as a deep voice echoed through the room. “Be bound here for eternity, hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be.”
That was a binding spell; Anders recognized it from the Circle. But who--?
“That's-- that's Father's voice,” Bethany said, voice faint with shock. “How could-- how is that possible?”
Emma shook her head. “I don't...” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “Anders?”
He sighed and walked to the barrier, peering past the swirling magic as best he could. “He bound something here,” he said. “A demon of some kind. This is powerful, powerful magic. It's not a spell so much as a ritual. It takes time and energy and-and sacrifice. He would have had to have left something of himself behind here to hold it for so long.”
“But why?” Bethany asked. “Why would he bind a demon here, rather than just destroy it?”
Anders swallowed hard. There were any number of ways to deal with demons-- negotiation and trickery were more common and required less of the caster, but they could be bound as well. Malcolm Hawke wouldn't have destroyed the demon if he needed it for something. The whole thing reeked of blood magic. “I-I don't know,” he lied.
“Should we just leave it?” Varric asked.
He shrugged. “We could,” he said. “Or we could try to destroy it ourselves. There's six of us and one of it... perhaps your father wasn't able to defeat it on his own, so he bound it instead?” A very, very unlikely explanation. If he had the power to create a binding like this, then he would have been able to mop the floor with a demon. But whatever need Malcolm had for the demon was long since passed.
Emma nodded. “Right. How would we... undo this, I guess?”
Anders turned from the barrier and looked around the room. “There,” he said, pointing. “He worked the binder's symbols into the Warden crests. Two there, and then one on the barrier here. I'd bet good coin that these are tied to your new sword, sweetheart.”
“So I just, what, hit it with the sword?”
He grinned. “Seems to work pretty well for you most of the time.”
She rolled her eyes and walked over to one of the crests. She raised the sword, but before she could swing, the symbol shattered, little tendrils of red energy flickering through the air briefly before fading. “Oh. Guess I don't need to hit it after all,” she said, walking to the other side of the room. Anders moved away from the barrier quickly as Emma undid the second one. “Right,” she said, glancing at Aveline, who stood beside her, shield raised. “This shouldn't be too difficult.”
Varric groaned. “For the love of my ancestors, Hawke--”
The third seal broke and the barrier fell. For a few seconds, the six of them tore into the demon with blades and arrows and spells. Then a barrier came up around it and half a dozen new shades shot up into the room. “Only one of them, he says,” Varric grumbled. “It'll be easy, she says.”
Anders rolled his eyes and slashed at one of the shades with the bladed end of his staff. Bethany cast an ice spell, freezing it in place, and he moved back towards the wall. As soon as the primary shade's barrier fell, they turned on it again, and within a few seconds, it summoned another wave of demons. Maybe I was right about him not being able to defeat it on his own, Anders thought, sending a burst of healing energy to his companions. This is ridiculous.
Finally, the bound demon fell, dissolving into slime and smoke. The blue cloud faded back into view, the human shape a bit clearer this time. “I can do nothing about the Warden's use of demons in this horrid place,” Malcolm said, “but I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world.”
The cloud drifted away, almost as if the figure within it was walking, and vanished. Anders and Nathaniel looked at each other. “Demons,” Anders repeated. “Grey Wardens using demons for... something. You know, coming here is giving me reasons to leave the Wardens that I didn't even know existed!”
Nathaniel sighed. “You know the Wardens do what is necessary to defeat the darkspawn,” he said. “But, yes, it is troubling.”
The sound of poison slithered through his mind; Anders was vaguely aware of Nathaniel snapping to attention and turning to look the same direction he was. “More of them,” Anders said. “We should move.”
“Agreed,” Nathaniel said. Aveline took the lead out of the room. Emma remained still, staring at the place where the ghost of her father had been.
Anders gently touched the back of her neck. “You all right, love?”
“I-- yeah, it's just... it's been ten years since I've heard his voice,” she said. “I almost didn't recognize him at first. He’s my father, shouldn't I...” She shook her head. “I'm sorry. Let's-- let's just go.”
He nodded and walked with her out of the room. As they'd sensed, there were more darkspawn waiting, along with an abandoned Warden camp and research notes that had Nathaniel and Anders complaining to each other about the Architect. They fought their way past a nest of genlocks and started onto a bridge leading to the tower in the middle of the apparent prison. The darkspawn were a constant noise in his head, but there was something else, too, something behind it, quiet and faint, like a half-forgotten dream...
Something moved in the rubble ahead of them, and Emma slowed, holding up a hand to stop the others. The figure limped towards them, hunched over, arms nearly brushing the ground. He was human, probably, Anders thought, his hair filthy and torn out in clumps, eyes nearly solid white. Anders shuddered faintly.
“The key!” the man rasped, scurrying over. “Did they find it? The dwarves... I heard them. Looking. Digging. How do you bring the key here?” He twitched as he spoke, shoulders hunched, unable to stand up straight. His armor was badly patched and filthy, but there was something familiar about it... Anders could feel the taint humming faintly in his veins and swallowed hard. What happened to him?
Emma seemed somewhat less disturbed than he felt. “Ah, so they were right, it is a key,” she said, holding up the blade. “What's it unlock?”
“It's magic... old magic, it is. Magic from the blood.” Anders winced. Not good. “It made the seals. It can destroy them.”
She glanced over her shoulder at the others. Anders shrugged, and judging by the mildly exasperated look on Emma's face, no one else had any helpful suggestions. She sighed and turned back to the man. “So, let me guess: you want to drink my blood too?”
“Blood?” The man looked surprised. “The blood of the Hawke? Are you the Hawke?”
“One of them, yes,” Emma replied, drumming her fingers on her armor. “If you're going to try to kill me and my sister for our apparently very special blood, let's just get on with it.”
“No, you-- you hold the key! The key to his death!” The man nodded, smiling, revealing broken and stained teeth. “Yes, I can show you out. Yes...”
“Right,” she drawled. “Because I always like to follow the advice of tainted, crazy people.”
Anders raised a hand and opened his mouth to argue. Aveline and Nathaniel swatted him from both sides, and he lowered his arm, pouting a bit. “Not crazy,” the man said. “Tainted, yes, but no more than them.” He pointed at Anders, then Nathaniel, smiling again. “You hear it, don't you. The call. It sings to you.”
Nathaniel stared at him stonily. Anders looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. “You said you knew how to get out,” Emma snapped. “Let's hear it.”
“I know the prison's secrets,” the man replied. “The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key.” He pointed to the sword. “You must use it, yes. On the seals. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke...” Emma half-turned in the direction they'd come; the man shook his head. “Not back. Not up. Only way out is down and through the heart. Down and in... down and in...” he walked off, muttering, towards the tower.
Several seconds passed in silence before anyone spoke. “Well,” Anders said with false cheer. “That made everything much clearer!”
Emma shook her head. “Let's just go,” she said. “The sooner we can get out of here, the better.”
“My thoughts exactly, Hawke,” Varric said.
She led them across the bridge towards the tower. Anders paused, spotting a few pieces of paper trapped under a rock, and gently wedged them free. More notes from the Wardens. They're not very careful with their research, are they, he thought, his attention divided between walking and skimming the paper. A few phrases leaped out at him: “blood magic ritual,” “a mage of untainted blood,” “one-way access.” He glanced up at Emma and Bethany and carefully refolded the paper, slipping it into his pocket.
“Well,” Emma announced as they entered the tower. “That looks like a magical seal to me.”
The glowing green circle was just about everything one could expect in a seal fueled by demonic rituals. Anders sighed as Emma approached, sword in hand. Varric had Bianca in his arms, clearly expecting trouble.
It was truly annoying when people's pessimism kept being proved right. Made holding onto a cheery disposition so difficult. Emma nearly knocked Aveline to the ground when a monstrous, glowing beast rose up from the seal and hurled her backwards. The creature was massive, easily twice Anders's height, and hurled fireballs with abandon. A backhanded swing took Anders off his feet and threw him into the tower wall. He slumped to the floor, stunned; he knew he had to get up and help, but his body wasn't quite listening to him.
Something hummed faintly, at the edge of his senses but growing stronger, almost the way that the darkspawn felt; but where darkspawn were poison and toxin, this was sweet and cool, like ice water when he was parched. If he could just hear it better, maybe he could make sense of it, find the source...
“Anders!” Bethany grabbed his shoulder, pouring healing energy into him.
He groaned, blinking at her. “Glad t'see you remembered my lessons,” he said with a crooked grin. The humming didn't fade, didn't recede, but it was easier to ignore with other things to focus on.
She helped him to his feet and led him to the others. Anders cast a general healing spell over all of them-- no way had anyone made it out of that without at least a few bruises.
“The blood works,” the man said, slinking into the room from behind them. Anders frowned, wondering how he’d gotten back around like that. “The blood is good… blood of the Hawke…”
He started to walk away; Emma strode after him and grabbed his shoulder. “Who are you?” she snapped. “How do you know all this?”
The man turned back towards her, frowning. “Who am I…?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
“Yes. Do you have a name?”
“My name… so long since I’ve said my name,” he murmured. “La… Larius. I was Larius! And there was a title, too. Commander… Commander of the Grey.”
Nathaniel blinked. “You were the Commander of the Free Marches?” he asked. “What happened?”
Larius stared at a point past them. “The songs get louder... the Calling cannot be ignored. Cannot be denied. Only death stops it. I am dead. But I never died.”
Nathaniel's eyes widened. “Maker,” he murmured. “Is that what it looks like?”
“Anders, what's he talking about?” Emma turned around, glancing between him and Nathaniel in confusion.
Anders swallowed hard, the blood draining from his face. He glanced over at Nathaniel, who had traitorously fixed his gaze on the ground. “I-- we should talk about this later,” he started. Not here. Not now, not like this--
Emma's stance shifted only slightly, but he knew her well enough to recognize the narrowed eyes, the tilt to her chin, everything that meant she wasn't letting this go. “No, Anders, I think you need to explain now,” she said icily.
Larius made a strange, wheezing noise, and it took Anders a moment realize the man was laughing. “Foolish of you,” he muttered. “Shouldn't get involved with those outside the Order. Nothing to explain that way, no one to get left behind--”
“Shut up,” Nathaniel said flatly.
Emma stared at him. “Anders?”
He looked away. “Wardens... we're able to resist the darkspawn corruption, but at a cost. We're not immune forever. Eventually we start to hear voices. The same ones the darkspawn hear. It calls us, just like it calls them.”
“And then?”
“Normally, we-Wardens-go into the Deep Roads and die fighting the darkspawn,” he said. “But if you don’t die…” Flames, he’d never really understood the purpose of it, but now, seeing Larius, knowing that if he was alive in thirty years that would be him… he shuddered slightly.
She let out a breath that sounded close to a sob. Anders glanced back up at her. She was still staring at him, equal parts anger, grief, and betrayal in her eyes. Beside him, Bethany had pressed a hand to her mouth, looking back and forth between him and Nathaniel in outright horror. “How long?” Emma asked, voice choked.
Anders closed his eyes briefly. “Thirty years,” he said. “More or less.”
“We've been Wardens for almost five years,” Nathaniel added. “Joined within a day of each other.”
Emma let out a slow, shaky breath. “You were right,” she said quietly. “I should have asked you later.” Slowly, she turned back around to face Larius. She questioned him about the prison, but Anders barely heard them over the blood rushing in his head and the faint, sweet music at the edge of his senses.
Larius shuffled off, and Emma followed, heading out of the tower. Anders ran to catch up with her and grabbed her arm. “Emma, I’m--”
“Don’t,” she said wearily. “Just… not now, okay? I can’t deal with this right now.” She gently pulled her arm free and walked away.
Anders stood stock-still, his stomach twisted into painful knots, as the others followed Emma out. Nathaniel stopped beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” he said quietly.
He let his friend lead him along after the rest of the group. His gaze flickered up to Emma and Bethany, who were walking side-by-side, talking quietly. His chest ached. I must have them.
Nathaniel tensed slightly and drew in a sharp, quiet breath. Anders looked over at him. “Did you… hear that?” he asked.
The archer nodded and looked back at the Hawkes. “And the-the song? Do you…?”
“Yeah.” Anders swallowed hard. “This isn’t good.”
“No.” Nathaniel looked away. “No, it’s not.”
*
‘Not good’ turned out to be something of an understatement.
They continued their descent into the Tower, through ruined passages and halls that were crawling with darkspawn. The song grew louder, and there were words now, whispers, talking of blood and freedom and power and sunlight. Through some unspoken agreement, neither he nor Nathaniel mentioned it to the others, though whether that was out of a wish to preserve Grey Warden secrets or some misplaced sense of masculine pride, Anders wasn't sure.
No one had spoken for almost five minutes, and the silence-- or rather, what spread through his mind to fill the silence-- was starting to drive him mad. Anders trailed a hand along the wall for balance, his eyes locked on the floor, because if he looked at Bethany or Emma the voice would start up again. And he didn't want to hear it, didn't want the whispers of freedom runs through their veins, my freedom, it is the only way that I will ever be free of the dark, that I will ever see the sun again, I must have it-- no, no, no no no, I'm not listening, I'm not listening!
“Anders?”
He started, blinking, at Emma's sudden appearance in front of him. It took a few seconds for him to realize that he'd spoken out loud, and that everyone had stopped walking to look at him. He shook his head, trying to clear it. The song grew incrementally louder. Emma frowned, her hand on his shoulder. “What's wrong?”
“I--” He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his eyes. “I don't...”
“It's Corypheus,” Nathaniel said abruptly. “It has influence over anything carrying the darkspawn taint.”
“Which includes the two of you,” Varric said.
Nathaniel nodded. “That's likely also why there are so many darkspawn here-- it's calling them. It wants something to free it.”
Emma glanced back and forth between the two Wardens. “How is it-- what is doing?”
“Singing, apparently,” Anders grumbled. At Emma's confused look, he shrugged and continued. “It's like a-- a song, in my head. And voices, sometimes.” That wasn't the truth, entirely, but how was he supposed to tell her it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard and it was taking considerable willpower not to start running towards the sound?
“Will you two be all right?” Aveline asked.
Nathaniel and Anders exchanged glances. “Yes,” Nathaniel said after a moment. “For now. I would suggest that we act with haste, though. The longer we're in here...”
“Yeah.” Emma nodded. “Nathaniel, take point with Aveline, would you?” He inclined his head to her and strode away. She looked up at Anders, eyes wide with worry, her hand still resting on his shoulder.
Anders took a deep breath and straightened up. He was fine. He had to be fine. He could do this. “We should go,” he said, nodding at the others. “Don’t want to get left behind.”
She frowned, studying his face, and then nodded, wordlessly taking his hand as they headed down the tunnel.
*
“Hawke! There's another one,” Aveline said, leaning back through the doorway.
Emma sighed and followed after her. This was the third of Malcolm's bound demons that they'd found, after a few hours of battling through nests of darkspawn and climbing through half-collapsed tunnels. Anders had spent most of that time concentrating on staying near the others and casting healing spells over the song in his head. Conversation helped, when he could focus on it; he'd gotten nearly half an hour of distraction out of talking with Bethany about her father. Malcolm Hawke sounded like a good man, a good mage, and Anders kept hoping that somehow, he was wrong about the blood magic.
He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to push the song out to the edges of his mind as Emma broke the bindings holding the demon back. His blood bound me, her blood frees me, bring her to me, closer to freedom with each step, so long in darkness-- Anders choked as his vision went black. The walls closed in around him, and he couldn't move, couldn't see, couldn't breathe. Just as quickly as the feeling came on, it passed, leaving him gasping, clutching his staff in a white-knuckled grip. The others were already fighting the desire demon and the waves of undead it summoned. Anders sucked in a breath through his teeth and forced himself to cast a repulsion glyph. He didn't need to get torn to pieces while their backs were turned.
Finally, the demon fell, and the shade of Malcolm Hawke reappeared. It had been getting clearer every time, and now Anders could see the man as he must have been thirty years ago: dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail, a thick beard, bright blue eyes. The Hawke sisters turned towards him, Emma smiling sadly at the image. “I've bought our freedom, Leandra,” Malcolm said. “We can go home now. Us and the baby. We'll be together.” He looked down. “I hope it takes after you, love. I would wish this magic on no one.”
Anders winced. Bethany's shoulders stiffened and he could see Emma grimacing. Malcolm's ghost closed his eyes. “May they never learn what I've done here.”
The image faded. Emma slowly turned back to face her sister. “He was talking about you,” Bethany said. “Mother must have been pregnant with you when they left Kirkwall.”
Emma shook her head. “But that-- the stories they told us about leaving... They always said...” She swallowed hard. “They lied to us,” she said finally, eyes wide with shock and betrayal. “Why would they lie?”
“Father didn't want us to know about this place,” Bethany said, twisting her fingers together in front of her. “They must have agreed not to tell us.”
Emma bit her lip. “Beth... what he said--”
“It's fine,” Bethany said quickly. “If he didn't want his child to be a mage, it never showed. My teachers and the mages in the Wardens all said I had excellent training.”
“He just didn't want us to be in more danger,” Emma said.
“I know,” Bethany replied. “And neither do I. It was probably better that I went to the Circle. You and Mother were safer.” Without me hung in the air, unspoken.
Emma grabbed her sister's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. “I don't care about safe,” she said. “It'd be worth it to have you back.”
Bethany laughed as she stepped back. “I do miss this,” she said. “Maybe not the craziness and the fighting and the running for our lives, but...” Her gaze flickered around the room, over the others, and she smiled. “Feeling like a family.”
“Yeah,” Emma said. “I miss it too.” She drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “Okay. Right. Darkspawn to kill, yes? We should-- we should go.”
Aveline took point again, and Nathaniel sped up to walk by Bethany, speaking quietly to her as they went. Emma held her hand out to Anders; he pushed off the wall and walked over. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I... It's just been too much to really deal with right now,” she said. “Everything that's going on, I can't really... I'll worry about it later.”
Anders winced again and wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a loose hug-- anything else would involve getting stabbed in the chest with the pointy bits on her armor. Emma leaned her head against his shoulder for a moment, then stepped back, visibly steeling herself. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Fine.” I need the blood, let it spill out and free me...
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you sure?”
“I'm fine.”
“If you say so.” She took his hand and started to lead him from the room. Anders laced their fingers together; he could feel her pulse beating through her gloves, and his free hand was halfway to his knife before he realized what he was doing. He fisted his hand in his coat instead, trying to ignore the way it was trembling, trying to ignore the voice in his mind.
It laughed, softly, and the song grew louder.