“Where will defies fear and duty scorns compromise with death...”
-- Haven, Mountaintop bowl Anders: Hawke cut into the dragon's knee as I poured down my spells on the High Dragon. The leg really spouted blood this time, she had to have severed an artery and fire could not seal it. We had beaten it, even if it flew away, it would continue bleeding.
This dragon roared enough to make the ground shake.
The mabari took off, howling, as the leg separated. The dragon roared again and fell into almost a roll as the loss of the leg made it fall.
Hawke hadn't gotten out! I beat at the pleased rumble within as I ran over. Merrill and Sebastian ran over too. The dragon had turned its head back towards the stump and Hawke; we could close to finish the kill on the other side.
That didn't matter to me, I
had to get closer, close enough to make sure she lived.
To try to keep her alive.
Getting to the Ashes was useless if Hawke didn't live.
The foot and Hawke weren't visible, but I could feel a thread of life under the thrashing dragon. Losing one leg wasn't enough for it to die right away.
I dropped to my knees beside a frantic dog, and tried pushing healing energy to her and the thread strengthened. Now she needed air, she only had so very few minutes before she strangled.
The thrashing changed and I looked up enough to see several arrows in the dragon's eyes.
Merrill arrived, and asked breathlessly, “Where is she?”
I pointed, even as I fed more healing to Dera. I didn't want her to think she was dying alone.
Alone, like Karl had been.
Hissing a curse, Merrill could see that Paws was trying to dig to Hawke. “Big Paws... move aside.”
The mabari ignored her, and suddenly a larger chunk almost blew out from under the dragon. The mabari yipped as he flew back, and another load of dust and stones blew out, forcing him to stay back and howl.
This spell I knew the basics of, but Merrill was much better with earth magics and I had to concentrate on Hawke.
The dragon's bulk fell partly into the hole, but stopped and I could see the channel Paws had started digging. I gave Merrill the vial that I pulled for myself, and finally saw Hawke's life strengthen without my magic.
“She got some air!” I announced, finally noticing that Vael seemed to be praying.
I wasn't quite in the mood to mock him about it.
A few more minutes and I could see part of Hawke's armor, the decoration that the Kirkwall armorers thought such a clever play on her name. “Hawke!” I called, hoping she was conscious.
Whatever she responded with was still muffled, but I could stop the healing and help move dirt. More digging and shoving against the dragon, and we finally pulled her out.
Dust ground into her, I embraced her as soon as she was out, and whispered, “Don't do that again to me. You're supposed to get that sunny cottage in a remote village after I go to the Deep Roads.”
Hawke just shook her head and kept taking deep breaths, coughing out dust every few breaths. I made her drink and spit as well until it looked cleaner. Then I examined her more carefully while her mabari bumped into her for some attention, and she seemed healthy enough.
She looked around after a moment and found a dagger before sheathing it. Her other was missing, small price for killing a dragon but she looked upset.
“Love, we can get you another, a dozen.” I thought the dragon would probably rot here, unless that Ormonde had enough people experienced in butchery.
Paws bumped Hawke with his front end covered in dust even more; he had the hilt of her missing dagger in his teeth, with the gold of the cross-hilt being drooled on as I watched.
That got him a hug before she cleaned and sheathed it as well.
What was it about Qunari weapons? “Anders? Could you heal...?” Merrill asked quietly.
My face got warm as I healed everyone else of their injuries, even some small ones for Paws. Looking around, I didn't see Mew's basket on the mabari and worried.
“Your kitten's basket strap was broken while we fought those dragon young,” Merrill said sadly.
Before I could quite panic or mourn, she added, “I put him in a niche formed when the pillar fell. I think he should be fine.”
I ran back to where the pillar had fallen and heard its yowling. Letting it out gained me some fresh scratching and hissing, but soon he settled and I set him on my shoulders. One claw managed to get through my feathers as he clung, but he purred briefly as he settled at the back of my neck.
“There is something very wrong about fighting dragons with a kitten on you,” Sebastian said sourly when I got back to them.
Mew's fur rubbed against me as he purred.
A distraction from our cause! We dawdle here while mages die. I told Sebastian, “The dragon, a High Dragon mind you, is dead. There won't be two close together, so kitty stays.” Turning to Hawke, I had to smile with my relief that Sir Mew was fine. “Not that he is the first to complain to me about that. You wouldn't believe how many times Nathaniel and Justice would complain in the Deep Roads...”
I still do not like the ownership or slavery over a living being. I'm more his slave than he is mine, unless he's been making my bed and washing the linens when I wasn't looking... Hawke looked thoughtful. “Tell us later when we camp. Let's go.”
When we started across what was left of the clear space to the entrance, I felt almost chipper. “It really is too bad we can't take some of this hide with us, I know of an armorer who could make the best rogue armor that looked very sharp...”
“Enough, abomination. You should be praying before you face judgment.” Sebastian sounded ever irritated.
“I'm not allowed to be happy that we defeated those idiots and their dragons, even for a little bit?” I made sure to overdo my pout, as I wanted to make sure that he got it.
That got me stifled laughter from the ladies along with a disgusted noise from him.
Then we reached the entrance, carved into solid rock with pillars leading to the arching door. It didn't look as weather-worn as I expected. It certainly had been repaired since the Warden came through. There was a door, without a lock, what would be the point? An entry let us in to a stairway up, leading us into the mountain. The air grew slightly warmer than it had been outside, but I saw no fireplaces or signs of such humble things as a campfire. There were a few banners brought here recently, which had not had the time to rot away, still I doubted much had changed in ages.
I could almost feel power in the mountain, and rumblings inside me grew silent. The silence around us was almost endless, even with the small noises that the mabari and Mew made.
We didn't have much choice about where to go, there was only forward.
At the top of the stairs there was a landing that turned and opened up into a small hall, and standing there was a knight whose armor was shining as if he was standing in bright sunlight while in a dim chamber. His armor was of a different style than I had seen before.
I wasn't even sure if his boots were touching the floor. I wondered if he was a spirit, somehow, but I could no longer tell.
As we grew closer with Hawke in the lead, he moved. He gazed at our group and said, “I bid you welcome, pilgrims.”
“Who are you?” Hawke asked carefully.
“I am the Guardian, here to protect the Sacred Ashes.” His voice was flat, but echoed with a whispering. “Only the worthy will be allowed to pay their respects to the Ashes of Andraste.”
Hawke's face fell and she looked down at her sheathed daggers. “And if we're not?” Her voice was very flat and wracked by some pain.
Like some kind of doom he replied, “Then you will not see the Ashes.”
Hawke looked at me, fear plain in her eyes. I didn't know what to say, as I doubted any worthiness on my part, but Dera was a Champion.
The Guardian added after this brief silence, “You shall see the Ashes, if you came to honor Andraste. If your heart is true, there is nothing to fear.”
Her heart was so very true, but I doubted my opinion meant anything on that.
Hawke collected herself and said, “Then how can we prove we're worthy?”
“You must pass four tests of faith on the path to be judged worthy.”
There was an exhalation of air from Sebastian, but I didn't bother looking at him. He was going to be useless here.
The door beyond him must lead to the tests, but Hawke asked, “Do I have to fight you to pass?”
“No, it is not my place to decide if you are worthy. If you are judged so, you will be allowed to take a small pinch of Ashes for yourself.” The echoing, whispery quality of his voice made it seem to be coming from all directions.
“May we pass, then, Guardian?” Sebastian asked.
“Before you pass me I have a question for you.” The Guardian's voice seemed almost dispassionate.
Hawke nodded curtly.
The Guardian looked piercingly at her. “Champion of Kirkwall, you have come a long way from the accolades and glory in that city. There is much suffering in your past, your suffering and the suffering of others.”
“Yes.” Hawke almost stuttered that.
So I reached out to take her hand. The knight followed that motion with his eyes.
“Your mother was taken, tortured, murdered, and desecrated by a mage, one who escaped from the Towers and flouted their rules against dealing with spirits and forbidden magic from the Fade. Did you fail to protect her from those who would use her as a plaything?” The Guardian's eye were not focused on us and had a cloudy look.
Hawke winced and I remembered those long hours when her grief was deepest and I didn't know what I could say to comfort her.
After what that blood mage had done, I was so afraid she would turn towards the Templar cause, that she would have had reason as only mages could have done that to her mother. I was even more afraid she would hate me. It had only been weeks since Alrik, weeks of happiness I never expected in my life. Not expected again, but I never expected. Leandra had made a few comments about us, comparing it to her early time with Malcolm, but this permanence was so new to me after so many flirtations and meetings in hidden corners or dreary inns. I clutched her hand now, wishing I could hold her.
Hawke finally answered after only a breath. “Yes, I failed. I have failed too often in things most important to me, that the crowds could not possibly believe and I regret them all. I thought she'd be safe in that stupid mansion, with servants to help her. But it was all for nothing, leaving me only an
empty home and no family.” She laughed bitterly, “The last of the Amells, despite her efforts for us. Some victory for Hawke, the Champion.”
Seeing her in that punishing grief again, my throat hurt. My voice cracked when I squeezed her hand and spoke. “You're too hard on yourself, Love, please don't ...”
Glaring at me for a moment, she added, “It was never much of a home again, just a place to wait through the night and
sleep, right?”
For all the hours and months my Manifestos had cost and gained me, I might as well have made her happier.
Vengeance got angry at that thought, but Hawke pulled her hand out of mine to hug herself, looking so alone. I didn't know what to say.
The Guardian's gaze swung to me and I was reminded of all my regrets over the years.
“And you, mage of the Anderfels, the Scourge of Kirkwall, do you regret the hundreds who died in Kirkwall to serve your cause? Is there no limit to what you would sacrifice for it?”
I'd expected the first part, and had almost been braced for it. My spirit was quiet now, but the image that crashed in my mind's eye at the latter question took my breath away.
Gritting my teeth, I shoved the image of Dera away. “I regret and grieve for many of those who died that day. I wish I could have found a way to have gotten them away...”
The Guardian's silent stare demanded the rest of my answer.
“And yes,
there is a limit to what I would sacrifice!” I ended up saying without any reaction from him at my shout.
Dera put an arm around me, an anchor within my own storm. She still looked upset, but that was an encouraging, if faint smile on her lips. Hawke still looked wistful as she always did when she remembered her mother's death.
Sebastian looked doubtfully at me, but the Guardian was done.
“Keeper Who Was Not, what brings you here to the holy place of another faith? Do you regret that your obsession frightened she who was nearly your mother so much that she did what she did?”
I glanced at Sebastian, and he showed a bit of dread as Merrill was spoken to. I gave Dera a quick hug; even if no one had said we couldn't dally in some corner, we were being watched here... by the mountain.
“Curiosity and learning brought me here. I grieve that I frightened her so much. I was taking that risk, the clan needed her so much more.” Merrill sounded sad with a thread of anger.
The Guardian prodded, “Did she not see you as her replacement, daughter, and so the future heart of the clan? Would she fail herself if the heartbeat was corrupted and failed?”
Merrill looked around with loss in her eyes for a second, but then her face firmed and she did not answer.
“How can you know these things? Are you mortal or spirit?” Sebastian demanded, all with a noble's haughtiness and something else.
The knight smiled slightly at him and said, “I was one of Andraste's followers and I was chosen to guard Her Ashes. I am blessed with what I need to do this.”
Hawke looked surprised. “You knew Andraste? I mean the real woman, not what was added in legend.”
“How long have you lived?” Sebastian asked almost in horror. He had never even liked the idea of that ancient merchant hidden in Darktown who lived only because of magic.
“I am afraid I lost count long ago, Prince. The years have been very long since Her passing to the Maker's side. The cultists who wish to claim Her are unworthy and have forgotten the trust held here. They are foolish or mad to think that She might return. I will guard Her Ashes until the Tevinter empire is no more.” He saw Hawke's frustration and added, “Yes, she had a glorious voice that charmed and convinced even the hardened, that remains vivid even over the years. But her battle is not over yet.”
Hawke and I exchanged glances. He was still waiting for the empire to fall, when nothing had truly threatened it since the Qun came to Thedas. I could not want their victory any more than the Chantry's.
A movement from Sebastian, and his face was showing the same thoughtfulness as Hawke's. He stated, “Ask your question then, Guardian.”
“Prince of a country that needs no prince, avenger of those who ask it not, what have you failed that you attempted? What was your responsibility as a Brother and not Prince?”
Hesitating, Sebastian admitted, “I could not convince the Grand Cleric to leave for her own safety. I failed to protect her from her enemies.” His glare at me was almost burning.
The Guardian didn't say more, just remained silent until Sebastian began to almost fidget.
“My duties as a Brother were to spread the Chant and minister to Her believers...” His face fell even as he said it, and he added in almost a whisper, “Are to.”
"The way is open. Good luck and may you find what you seek." The Guardian stepped back and glowed with so much light that I couldn't see for a moment. When I could, the door was open and he was gone.
My embrace of Hawke was much more desperate this time, our kisses almost violent. When I pulled back, I almost thought I saw a trace of envy on Vael's face. Merrill seemed amused, as she usually was.
We went forward and entered another hall, cleaner than what the Warden had told me of this place. Inside were several figures that we could see through, all wearing clothing from the Ancient times.
These were perhaps the first undead spirits outside the Fade who weren't violent, they simply seemed to be waiting. My spirit was muted, perhaps smothered by the power here.
Hawke went to the first, a woman with withered lips of the very old, or long dead.
She spoke in a careful cadence. “Not in future nor in past, I seem so long yet end so fast. I come from a shadow realm, whispering of things yet to come. I am forgotten when out of sight, swept away by dawning light.”
Merrill clapped her hands, saying, “Riddles! Oh, it has been too long since I have heard new riddles.”
Frowning, Sebastian asked, “Spirit, can you repeat that?”
She did, but Merrill's smile said that she already had the answer too.
“You are dreams,” I said.
A moment after I answered, and the spirit gave her name as Brona, and told of her great grief at losing her daughter Andraste. She was an embodiment of grief and loss.
I looked at Hawke, unsure of what to make of her taking that name as we traveled. She looked worried too, and I could not like this coincidence.
“We have seven more,” she said, looking around the chamber. “I wonder what happens if we guess wrong.”
“Can we ask the one of my people next?” Merrill asked eagerly.
The elf was the next in line, so I shrugged. Hawke stepped over to the spirit and stood there until he turned his face towards hers.
“Money cannot buy one, but hearts make their own. I'm not visitor or intruder, without one I'm pushed out to wander. Of what do I speak?” His lack of hair was almost distracting.
Merrill sighed and said quietly, “I know this very well, it is a homeland.”
The spirit nodded, and revealed that he had been Shartan, who rallied the elven slaves to Andraste. I wasn't sure if his betrayal was in that war or by the later Divine.
But Merrill told him, “We still do not have that, elder, after many ages. Promises are so easily forgotten when the need is past...”
He did not respond, so I wondered if these spirits were truly here or not.
Sebastian looked like he wanted to respond, but managed to restrain himself. Hawke and Merrill were quiet.
I wasn't feeling that nice. “Isn't that breaking Andraste's promise, to not only take that land away, but deny his deeds? He fought for Her cause and died when She did. Now he is a condemned and erased despite anything he had done.”
Sebastian fumed, but didn't say anything. The Orlesian and Chantry crushing of the Dales was centuries after Andraste's time. That was very clear even in their records.
Ignoring us, Hawke marched to the next figure, a warrior who looked worn and his armor simpler and more barbaric. I hurried after her.
The spirit spoke as soon as she got close. “A poison of the soul, a passion's cruel counterpart; From love she grows, till love lies slain in the dust. Of what do I speak?"
This wasn't very hard either, but Hawke sagged even as she gave the answer.
The spirit revealed that he was Maferath, named and reviled by all of the Chantry. He'd betrayed Her for his own lands and power, and I was reminded of what I'd done to Hawke for my people and their power. She could have died in my war, right then.
I may not have sacrificed her, but I didn't protect her enough from my actions.
Maferath spoke again, or still, saying, “Jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of all the Alamarri... Beside her, I was nothing. Hundreds fell before her on bended knee because they loved her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare with a god?"
Hawke turned aside and looked away into an alcove, standing very still. Aside from her shoulders shaking the slightest bit.
Ignoring the others, I stepped close and carefully put my arms around her. “Dera?”
She turned towards me, her eyes were wet and face shifting with barely controlled emotions. In a barely audible whisper, she said while looking at my chest, “Maybe when this is over, and you're better, we should go out separate ways. I'm not...”
Hawke didn't finish her sentence, and I was afraid to hear what was next. Still I asked, “What, Love?”
“I'm tired of sharing you. With Justice, with all the mages in Thedas. I don't want to become like him.” She finally met my eyes.
I felt like the floor dropped out. Despite more than approving rumbling inside, I pulled her close. “Dera, I'm sorry.” My first impulse was to repeat my warnings from around the Deep Roads Expedition, but I realized how stupid it was to say that. “You are what I cannot sacrifice, even for other mages. You will
never be nothing, always the Champion to me.”
She sighed, and asked in normal tones, “Does that title mean anything? I'm sure it's been recanted or replaced by now. Not that it got me much outside this armor and a few ales.”
“It is a truth that no Divine can take away, Love. Maybe...” I didn't know what hope to express after the Ashes, it was a blank. “Maybe we can rescue a few kittens after this?”
I hoped she'd understand what I couldn't dare dwell on.
“Kittens were few in Kirkwall,” Merrill observed. “No one seemed to know the reason, and most places have many.”
“Blood Magic...” Sebastian muttered.
“That might be true,” I had to admit. “Few resisted it, and whatever you think of me, I've never done that. But I've traveled throughout Ferelden and some places outside and met many mages. Most don't. Well, most human mages outside Kirkwall.”
“How long does Tevinter influence linger in the rock?” Hawke pulled away from me and moved over the the next figure, a woman in rich robes, standing tall.
"Return unto others what was done unto... blood washes blood. The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?" The spirit's voice was angry and proud.
Hawke said in a clipped voice, “Vengeance.”
The spirit gave her account with almost righteous anger. "My husband Hessarian would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that she would die, publicly with Her war-leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength. I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood."
I could feel my spirit swell in power and my skin felt too small. He wasn't smothered, but my head rang with his vindication. I beat him down in an instant that felt like forever where I was the battleground between the vengeance and justice the spirit spoke of.
When I came back to myself, Hawke was holding me awkwardly. Merrill had stepped back and Sebastian had drawn his bow. I almost quipped that Elthina had a quick death, but decided that was a bad idea.
I gave Hawke a quick kiss, so she knew that I was myself. I spoke to the prince. “I've never wanted blood, blood belongs inside. I want change for the better, not stasis where a servant gets more respect and freedom than a mage, inside and outside a tower. I was happy healing people I encountered and whoring my way across the country, that's how I met Isabella. Whatever else I've become is because of being hunted and seeing the harmless ones destroyed. You can't deny that I haven't hunted blood mages and the real abominations.”
“Was there much of a difference, just now?” Sebastian asked, his voice neutral for a change.
I had no answer.
Hawke stepped away, pulling me with her by the hand toward that first spirit on the other side. Four more to go.
This was another woman, whose voice was a bit more cheerful. “I dreamed I saw fairies dance upon the midnight sky. Where lights, like lanterns grew without a whim or why. Amid their joy, amid their dance, we came singing in their midst. But without a sound they flew away from us into the mist.”
Merrill spoke, seriously, “A lightning fly.”
The spirit's story of singing with the young Andraste didn't seem relevant to a test of faith as much so I just waited until the others moved on.
The next spirit had a robe that reminded me of early Chantry robes, but he was not a Sister. I wasn't listening enough for the next riddle and missed it. No one answered it and I asked the spirit if it could repeat it.
His words didn't seem familiar, “The Maker's creation is but as clay and strives to see Him, veiled as would His bride be.”
“Fog?” Hawke asked while I still thought.
The spirit transformed into a shade and attacked us. Only the surprise after only facing riddles made it dangerous. Once it was defeated, I looked around, afraid that failing that riddle ended our chance at the test, but the remaining two spirits ignored the skirmish.
Panting, I mentioned, “I think the answer was mountains.”
“Now you tell us,” Sebastian grumbled.
Hawke sat down on the floor to rest, When I sat beside her, she leaned back against me. Sebastian prowled around the hall, staying away from the last two spirits. Merrill was writing some notes, maybe on Shartan. For all I knew he might be an ancestor. Paws rested on Hawke, and Mew was chewing another feather off my pauldrons.
I would need to repair that soon or I will look like I'm molting.
After.
Hawke mused, “I wonder if they bothered to include privies for us pilgrims or if we'll need to keep an eye out for a dark corner...”
That made me laugh. “We'll have to watch for that, but this is only the second chamber. I doubt they'd expect so much danger to even get here.”
We sat there, leaning against each other, and I wasn't thinking much. After a bit, Hawke stirred and stood up, offering me a hand. Mew bit my ear when I lurched a little while standing.
The next to last spirit was in another set of Chantry-like robes, and he didn't have the thinner look of a life-long scholar or Brother. I thought I could see scars from some kind of battle still visible on his transparent skin.
He turned to Hawke and said, “Its claws make weak the strongest man, though no shield can fend it off. None can see it but all have felt it. Spawned from nothing it consumes armies like a fire.”
We looked at each other, wary about giving the wrong answer. Merrill rubbed her stomach, which matched my answer; Hawke nodded. Sebastian gave the answer.
“Hunger was the weapon against the wicked of the Tevinter Imperium,” he spoke with a ringing confidence. “The Maker kindled the sun's flame to burn the land. Crops withered, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters to wash away their filth. I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of Her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us!” He made a gesture of blessing and disappeared.
This left the last spirit, who wore a sword, a long one like Celebrant. But he wore armor much like what I wore in Amaranthine. Was he a mage too, as well as a swordsman?
Hawke marched up to him and waited.
His voice was hopeful when he said, “She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?”
This wasn't that difficult a question, but it was such a hard thing to remember. I looked at Hawke one of the very few I'd known to show this quality.
She looked at me, probably thinking along the same lines, when she said sadly while looking right at me, “Mercy.”
Reaching for her even as the spirit began his testament, I wanted to say something.
“I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end Her life.” His voice was a mix of shame, horror, and guilt that echoed in my ears more than the others, somehow. “I am the penitent sinner, the Archon Hessarian, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him.”
Hessarian, whose sword and flames became the icon for the Templars, though they have long forgotten any mercy but death. They preferred to make examples. A moment after he finished, his spirit also disappeared and the door opened.
We were silent as we looked at each other,
Stepping to the doorway, there were no alcoves and I was about to make a joke to Hawke when I saw a figure standing ahead of us, wearing mage robes and looking distinguished with gray in his beard.
Hawke shouted happily, “Carver!”
--- x ---
A/N: The chapter title is adapted from a quote by Robert Green Ingersoll. Some riddles and quotes are adapted from canon. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
