Chapter Text
They returned as swiftly as mortal steps would allow, only once stopping to crouch low behind a thick-trunked tree as Katz waved warningly with her hand for silence. Will’s thigh pressed against the templar’s. His heart was racing in anticipation, for surely they had stopped suddenly because the Grey Warden sensed more darkspawn nearby. But Will didn’t want to hide from the monsters; he wanted to kill them. The palms of his hands grew hot and his staff tingled against the pads of his fingers. If not for Hannibal’s hand touching lightly on his back as they hid, Will might have thrown himself from their hiding place and attacked on his own. But the hand proved a grounding force, and he could not find it in himself to displace it. It was only the barest of grazes, one he could scarcely feel through his thick robes. But it was there, and the darkspawn were beyond the trees, and he, with a shaky breath, chose the safety of the templar’s touch. At his ear, Hannibal whispered, so low only he could hear: “Soon enough.”
When they returned to the gates, the same watchman was there, only now, bright torchlight highlighted the disapproving contours of his face. He looked, to say the least, surprised that their party was returning with all their limbs, which was understandable, considering the state of the scout they had sent back, wounded and terrorized. If, Will pondered morbidly, he had managed to return at all.
The atmosphere in the Ostagar ruins had changed since their departure. Tension was heavy in the air, thick with fear and excitement and the heart pounding vow of violence to come. Will felt it with a physical yearning. He stood on the precipice of something great. Soldiers swept hurriedly around their group as they made way to the center bonfire. The mabari hounds were barking in their pens. Will saw them there, huge paws up on the wooden fence, eyes shining in the growing darkness, looking as keyed up as Will felt.
Jack was waiting for them, his silhouette bulking and dramatic against the light of the fire and the rain pelting down with growing zeal. Relief washed through him when he spotted them across the camp; Will could see it in the easing line of his shoulders. He’d been worried about them? Once they were near enough for words to be passed, Jack welcomed them with a laugh and wasted no time leading them away from the business of the central camp.
Will’s hair was now quite wet, and he was pleased to find Jack was leading them to an upper, secluded tier of the ruins, where an overhang blocked out the rain, and several torches were lit, filling the space with a comfortable glow. The scene was very nearly cozy, and would have been entirely if not for the flutters of nervousness in his stomach. Price and Zeller were quiet, as was Hannibal, still stationed protectively at Will’s side. Katz was speaking softly with Jack, beside a small table, a silver chalice sitting upon it. Will tried to keep his mind blank, his breathing steady. He tried to be calm. But his hands were trembling, and he felt a queerness in his chest. Before too long, the Wardens turned their attention back to their recruits.
“The Joining ritual is sacred and secret.” Jack looked straight at Hannibal. “Only those parties involved directly are allowed to observe.”
Will could feel the templar’s body tensing beside him, but when he glanced at his face it was as serene as ever. Hannibal nodded once at Jack and turned to Will. “I will remain close,” he said softly, yet with a solidness that heated Will’s cheeks. Hannibal took his leave, walking from the cover of the rain. Will followed his figure with his eyes as he swiftly took a turn behind a stone pillar and disappeared from view. A strangeness accompanied Will’s nervousness now that was reminiscent of disappointment, and he realized he hadn’t expected the templar to leave his side, not even for this. A little sigh escaped his lips before he vanquished his unreasonable upset and faced the others, just in time to catch a smirk on Katz’s face. His blush increased, and he was grateful when Jack stepped forward to begin.
“Usually these things are done with more ceremony. But time is fleeting and we have to be brief. As Katz is the Warden’s newest initiate, she will be overseeing the ritual. Katz?” Jack walked back to the small table and lifted the silver chalice in his hands.
Katz cleared her throat. “The darkspawn blood you collected, a drop of lyrium, and a pinch of archdemon blood. That’s what you’ll each be drinking from this chalice.”
“Darkspawn blood?” Zeller asked incredulously. “But their taint is poisonous. That would kill us!”
“There’s a reason why the details of the Joining ritual are kept a secret,” Katz said. “And a reason why there are so few Grey Wardens.”
Will’s throat began to tighten as a low-grade panic hit him in the gut. But he remained silent. There was no turning back now.
“If you survive the effects of the blood,” Katz continued, “you will become immune to further taint. You will be able to sense the darkspawn; your mind will be connected to their hive. You will be a Grey Warden.”
Zeller was shaking his head, and Price reached his hand out to lightly touch his wrist. Will wrung his hands together, vaguely wishing for something to hold onto. Someone. His eyes darted to where Hannibal had disappeared behind the stones. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the demon from his dreams again, as Jack approached Price with the chalice. This was blood magic, make no mistake. Something evil, cloaked in the disguise of a noble cause, at least…he had always been taught that the Grey Wardens were noble.
Jack stood in front of Price and nodded at Katz.
“Now, a few words to begin the ritual.” She cleared her throat again, a grim expression on her face. And then it began. “‘Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you.’”
“Jimmy Price,” Jack said, passing the chalice into the recruit’s hands.
Price accepted it, glanced around quickly at all of them, his eyes lingering longest on Zeller, and then he closed his eyes and tipped the chalice to his mouth. Will watched in awe as his throat swallowed down a gulp of the mixture. Finished, Price handed the chalice back to Jack. For a moment, they all waited. Nothing happened.
Will sighed in relief.
And then Price gasped and his eyes rolled back into his head. His hands flew up to grasp around his throat and black blood oozed from his mouth. Will took a step forward and felt a hand at his shoulder, stopping him. He looked wildly to his side, expecting to see Hannibal, but it was Katz standing there, shaking her head sadly. Will turned back to Price, who had fallen to the ground. His body shook violently for several more agonizing seconds, and then he was still.
Jack’s head was bowed low. “I’m sorry, Price.” He turned to Zeller next, the chalice held out before him, but Zeller was backing up, his hands extended out in defense. “Brian Zeller.”
“No!” Zeller yelled at the approaching Warden. “Get away from me with that! I won’t do it. You’re all insane!” His eyes were huge and tearful, and he was staring down at Price’s dead body in horror.
But Jack still approached him, unwavering. “There is no turning back.”
Will watched helplessly as Zeller backed up against the stones. When Jack held the chalice out a final time, Zeller’s hands went to his waist, his fingers wrapping around the hilt of his dagger. Will flinched. Before Zeller could even unsheathe the blade completely, Jack’s sword was pulled from its scabbard. The recruit screamed until the blade ran through his stomach, and then he was silent.
“I’m sorry, Zeller,” Jack whispered sadly. He pulled his sword free from where it pierced Zeller’s stomach and stepped away as his body collapsed to the ground.
Will looked between Zeller’s motionless body and Price’s. A few minutes ago they were alive, and now they were dead. And now it was his turn. Jack was turning to Will with the chalice.
“Will Graham.”
There was no turning back.
He took the chalice from Jack and lifted it to his parted lips. The foul mixture was thick and disgusting on his tongue as it slid to the back of his throat. He gagged, but managed to swallow it down. He felt it creeping down his throat, slithering into the pit of his stomach. Katz and Jack were staring at him, waiting. Will waited, too. To die. To live. To become something more than himself. He looked again for the templar, and did not see him. He was still looking when a pressure in his gut like a fist overwhelmed him. His head fell back, his vision blazed white, and he was falling…
--
“Will.”
He heard his name but could not yet open his eyes.
“Sweet boy. I have you.”
He knew that voice. Recognized the slide of leathery skin over his body, the sharp claws caressing his face.
“You’re so strong, my brave boy. Open your eyes for me.”
Will opened his eyes and gazed at the demon hovered above him. He was lying in its lap, its arms wrapped possessively around him, holding him close. Its black eyes shone with fondness as it closed the distance between their faces and sealed a soft kiss on Will’s forehead.
“Did I fall asleep?” Will asked.
“You fainted. But the taint has not killed you. You are too strong to die.”
Will turned his head into the bony chest and breathed deep. “I don’t feel strong.”
The arms tightened around him. “You are a Dreamer. And now you are a Grey Warden,” the demon said, its voice soothing as its breath fanned across Will’s cheek. “You will find, in time, that there are few in this world as strong, my love.”
Will tilted his head back to gaze up at the demon. “Do demons even feel love?”
The demon bent its head down once more, its clawed fingers cupping Will’s jaw gently. “Oh, fiercely.” It grazed its lips over Will’s, and Will sighed into the kiss. The demon deepened the joining, but only for a moment, and then it pulled away. “Embrace your strength, Will.” It stroked its fingers down Will’s cheek and he shivered into the touch. “You are so lovely.”
Suddenly, the demon was gone, and Will was standing, a blazing, fiery light engulfing his vision. He turned. A deafening roar shook his core, and he saw a flash of brilliant, glowing eyes, and gleaming, blood-red scales. A thousand whispers buzzed in his brain, and he clasped his hands over his ears, crying out. Another shake brought him crashing to his knees. He looked up through a wall of smoke. Stepping from the darkness, its taloned feet shaking the world apart, was a titanic dragon.
Will cowered in its shadow, powerless to do anything but watch as it turned its mighty head down. When Will met its horrible eyes, he bowed his head in horror. The dragon roared, and Will could feel the heat of its fiery breath racing toward him. And then the space around him began to blur and grow blindingly white, and Will could see nothing, feel nothing.
--
“Will? Will?”
He knew that voice. Templar. Hannibal. His eyes shot open, and he gasped in a desperate lungful of oxygen. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to catch his breath. His heart raced so fast he feared it might explode in his chest.
“Thank the Maker,” he heard a woman whisper. His eyes began to focus and he saw Katz leaning over him. Beside her, a stricken look on his face, was Hannibal. Behind them both, ominous and grave, was Jack.
“How are you feeling?” Katz was asking, but it took Will more than a few moments to decipher her words.
He grunted, his throat as raw as if he’d spent his life screaming. “Strange,” he croaked painfully, swallowing hard. Hannibal disappeared for a second, reappearing only a heartbeat later with a cup of water. Will tried to smile as the templar held it up to Will’s lips.
“No blood in this,” Hannibal murmured, looking pleased when Will opened his mouth to accept a sip.
He coughed, but the water went down with success and the coolness felt sublime in his throat.
“It’s a lot to take in all at once, I know,” Katz said with a sad smile. “Two people died during my Joining. It…it’s hard. I’m glad you’re okay, Will.” Jack grumbled something unintelligible, and Katz glanced over her shoulder at him. “There’s one more thing.” She reached behind her, into a small linen pouch, and revealed a leather stringed necklace with a miniature, stoppered vial hanging from it like a medallion. “This is filled with a sample of the darkspawn blood. It’s to…remember those we lost during the Joining.” She pulled her own necklace out from beneath its hiding place beneath her tunic.
Price and Zeller.
Will sat up, looking past Katz and Hannibal for the bodies of the other recruits he’d so briefly known. They had already been removed. Will wondered how long he’d been out of it, for them to have had time to move two bodies. They’d managed it somehow, though, and all that remained of them now was blood drying on the stones.
Hannibal touched his shoulder, surprising Will and making him jump. “Will,” the templar said. Will swallowed roughly and looked helplessly at the templar leaning in close. “Had I known what risks you faced, I would not have left your side.”
Will heard Jack sigh, arms folding over his chest. Katz shifted uncomfortably on her knees. They had discussed this matter while Will had been unconscious, obviously. Had he not been shocked as he was, Will knew his cheeks would be blazing.
“It’s fine,” Will told him. His voice sounded so raspy and weak. “Your job is done, Hannibal. You’ve delivered me safely to the Wardens.”
“Will,” Jack began, the power of his voice drawing everyone’s attention. “You should have time to adjust and rest, but it’s just not plausible tonight. I have a few things we need to go over before the battle.”
“Oh.” Will had all but forgotten the imminent battle, the reason he was there in the first place. He clamped his hand over Hannibal’s shoulder and began pulling himself to his feet. The templar took hold of his waist immediately and helped him up. Katz lingered close to him, as well, checking his balance warily. Will released Hannibal, and was proud when he did not falter on his feet. He felt jittery, a little nauseous, and incredibly hungry, but he did not feel too physically weak. “I can fight, Jack.”
The older Warden nodded his head approvingly. “I know you can. But the King relayed a request pertaining to you and Katz specifically.” Will and Katz looked at one another with crinkled brows. “King Frederick wants to ride the front lines into battle with the Grey Wardens, but upon Teyrn Mason’s insistence, his Denerim troops will hold back until the second wave of darkspawn, when you light the signal fire in the far tower.”
Katz huffed indignantly. “You want us to light a fire? I thought we were going to be fighting?”
Jack narrowed his eyes at her. “The King was adamant that such an important task be followed through by Grey Wardens. As the two of you are the newest members, it’s only appropriate that you be delegated to the lighting of the signal fire.”
“Jack!” Katz complained.
“King’s orders.” Jack’s face said it all. There would be no finagling out of it.
Katz sighed and rolled her eyes at Will. “Well, this is going to be fun. Hold onto your knickers, newbie.”
Her blatant disapproval made Will smile. In truth, he wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being cast to the side to light a signal, but he felt weirdly calm at present. He was a Warden now. There would be more chances to kill darkspawn. If he shut his eyes, he could hear a buzz of whispers. There were darkspawn close; he could feel their presence. The battle would be swiftly upon them. Above them was a loud clap of thunder. The sky lit up with lightning. The rain began to pour, and one of their lit torches blew out with a rush of wind.
“I need to get down there to the King,” Jack said. He placed a shoulder on both Will and Katz, paying them a purposeful look. “This is an important job.”
“Yeah, yeah, we know, boss.” Katz smirked at Jack, and nudged Will’s side. “Be safe down there.”
“Of course,” Jack said. He squeezed their shoulders amiably before turning to Hannibal, who was lingering to the side. “Templar, I know your job is done, but you might want to stick with these two until the battle’s over. You’re more than welcome to remain a while longer, rest up.”
Hannibal glanced at Will before nodding his head at Jack’s words. “A generous offer,” he said. “I will remain with the young Wardens.”
Will looked down at his rain-sullied boots to avoid Hannibal’s questing eyes. The second nudge Katz placed in his side spoke volumes though, and he didn’t feel guilty at all when he jabbed his own elbow in reciprocation. The three of them, Will, Katz, and Hannibal, stood together, watching as Jack waved his hand at them and tightened his hold on the pommel of his sword. He walked into the rain, traveling towards the noises and lights of the preparing army.
“We should get out of this weather,” Katz said after a pause. “The tower’s not too far from here. Just on the other side of that big bridge. If we get there early,” she said with a twisted smile, “I might know where there’s a barrel of ale stashed up there somewhere. If we have to sit and wait all night, we can at least enjoy a drink. It’s your first night as a Warden, after all.”
Will liked Katz, and he certainly liked the idea of having something to drink. Maybe he could even find a place to light a fire and they could have something to eat. Now that his shock was waning, he was beginning to feel desperately hungry. He tried not to look at Hannibal as they began their trek for the bridge. Perhaps he would feel more comfortable in the man’s presence after something to drink. But now, Will was terribly aware of the templar, and the way he seemed to observe Will’s every breath.
He shivered in his robes, now soaked from the rainstorm. He could see the tower, tall and inviting from its distance across the bridge. As they trudged through the muddying earth, the sounding horn boomed. Katz and Will exchanged nervous looks. That was a battle horn. The fight was upon them.
Will did indulge the wish that he could be on those front lines with Jack and the other Wardens; he wanted to feel that rush again, that tingle in his blood when he killed those blighted monsters in the name of righteousness. But the further they walked on the rapidly muddying ground, he began thinking that staying out of the bulk of the battle was for the best, because he was feeling, now he’d had time to adjust, a bit dizzy. The buzz in his head was distracting, that feeling within him, that sense that darkspawn were not only near, but all around. In fact, if he hadn’t been so new to the sensation –and thus untrustworthy of his own awareness – he might have guessed that the darkspawn horde was not only at their backs, emerging from the tree lines of the Korcari Wilds, but before them, on the opposite side of the bridge. Will shook his head to flee the disparaging feelings. The rain was truly pouring down now. Even Hannibal had to squint to see through the thick sheets, his hair plastered to his forehead in a way that, honestly, wasn’t completely unpleasant. When Will’s head began to spin as he was looking sideways at the templar, Hannibal reached out his hand automatically, taking hold of Will’s shoulder as he staggered.
“Thank you,” Will mumbled softly. Katz walked a few feet ahead, and he did not want her to hear his stumble.
“You are overwhelmed,” Hannibal replied, just as quietly. They kept walking, but Hannibal kept a discreet hand on Will’s back. A soft, hardly-there touch, a symbol of support rather than an actual crutch. “Jack is pushing you too hard.”
“No,” Will said with vehemence. “It’s not anything I can’t handle.” He wanted to ask the templar why he was looking at him the way he was, why he was even still there, when his orders were followed through, and he should be on his way back to the tower, not strolling with him over a bridge. For they had reached the bridge at that point, and it looked even higher up and formidable than it had in the daytime. Maybe because when Will looked over the side he couldn’t see the bottom. Disconcerting.
Will took a step away from the ledge, and a cool discomfort pooled in his stomach. He stopped at once. “Katz.” She spun around, still a few feet ahead. “This feels wrong.”
She scowled for a moment, and then her shoulders slumped and her lips pursed. “You feel it too? Damn. I was hoping it was a fluke.” She held her hand over her abdomen. “It feels like we’re close to the horde, but that doesn’t make sense. We’re a mile from the front lines, at least.”
“Will.” Hannibal’s deep rumble contested the thunder, and Will took troubling note of the templar’s alert eyes as he focused across the bridge. Will squinted, to try and see what Hannibal saw. He could make out torches, moving about quite quickly, as if held by running hands.
A whirring sound in the air, like a whistle, came from the depths beneath the bridge. Suddenly, Hannibal grabbed at Will, taking him by the waist and yanking him forward, and a second later, the sky turned fiery yellow as a burning boulder was catapulted onto the bridge, right where Will had just been standing.
Will yelled out as the stones broke apart, crumbling away into the chasm. Hannibal was pulling him, had him by his wrist now, and Katz was running, too, looking over her shoulder to make sure they were with her. She had a cut across her cheek, blood already beginning to drip. “Run!” she yelled needlessly, as they were all running already, with no intention to stop.
Another whirring sound, another approaching, catapulted boulder onto the bridge, and Hannibal sidestepped, pulling Will against his chest as it crashed in front of them. Breathless, Will let Hannibal lead him around the flames, and again they were running. But as they neared the other side of the bridge, and the moving torchlights became more visible, a new, wild panic gripped Will’s heart. A guard of the tower was running, a torch in one hand, a sword in the other. He spotted the Wardens coming across the bridge and began to run for them. But before he could meet them, he froze, his mouth gaping wide, his eyes huge, and he fell forward. A crude arrow stuck from his back. A few yards away, a darkspawn was reloading its crossbow.
“Darkspawn!” Katz yelled back at Will.
They were clear of the bridge now, but the area outside of the tower was brimming with activity. Guards of the watchtower and darkspawn alike were brandishing weapons and metal met metal with horrible streaks of sound in Will’s ears. A human man lay gutted a few feet away, and he fought down a surge of bile in his throat. His whole body tingled, and he looked up at Katz, just in time to see the monster running up behind her.
“Get down!” he yelled, and Katz obeyed with skilled immediacy, ducking and unsheathing her sword. Will did not pause, but raised his staff and sent a stream of flame over her head, hitting the darkspawn straight in the chest. Then Katz was up, her blade slashing, and the blighted monster was beheaded. Its body crumpled to the sodden ground, headless and smoldering.
More sounds of violence pulled Will’s attention to his right, where Hannibal was engaging in an exchange of blows with two darkspawn. They wielded axes and their mouths were wide and grimacing, sharp teeth stained with blood. Will lifted his staff to help the templar, but in a breath the darkspawn were downed and dead. Hannibal turned to Will, a heavy exhalation blowing his sodden, fallen hair from his eyes, taking Will back, for a moment, to their fight in the tavern. The templar must have remembered the same thing, because he grinned at Will, and his eyes shone. Will might have smiled back, but it happened too quickly to register, and then Katz was calling insistently for them, and charging forward, right for the tower entrance.
She sliced down three more darkspawn before they reached the stone steps leading to the front door of the watchtower, and then a human mage was waving them inside, the whites of his crazed eyes shining in the torchlight within. “We’ve been overrun!” he panted, wiping a stripe of blood off his cheek. “The darkspawn angled around the ruins and attacked us from the North. They’ve taken the tower.” Beyond the mage, Will could see the fighting. There were dozens of darkspawn and even more dead humans. And that was only the first floor of the tower.
“Jack and the King have no idea,” Will exclaimed. “They’ll be surrounded.”
“We have to get to the top of the tower and light the signal fire,” Katz said, her ponytail swishing fiercely as she raised her head to the stairs beyond. “Mason will move in his Denerim troops.”
“But the tower is crawling with darkspawn,” the mage said. “You'll never reach the top.”
Will felt that familiar touch at his back and looked at Hannibal. “Will,” he said, pulling him to the side and speaking low in his ear, “you can abandon the tower or you can try and light the signal. Either way, I will stay with you.”
He looked at Hannibal in wonder. The templar from the Circle who shadowed his every move, wiped the sweat from his brow when he was sick, held the sword at his throat during his Harrowing. He was always there, even when Will had neglected to realize it. And he was there now, in the face of death, offering to stay. Will considered his options. He could leave. Save himself. He'd only just joined the Wardens. What was it to him if they lived? He could be free of them, free of the Circle. He could find Alana and beg her to teach him how to survive as an apostate.
But he looked at Katz. And he looked at the terrified mage before him, and the mess of dead bodies littering the tower. He thought of Jack and King Frederick, who would die without the aid of Mason, without the signal fire. And finally, he thought of the demon, its surreal antlers reaching upward as its lips bent down to kiss him. It told Will he was strong. It told Will to consider his evils and decide what he could live with.
And Will knew. He couldn't leave all these people to die. He wouldn't. They would try and make their way to the top and light the signal fire. And if they didn't make it, if Will didn't make it, then at least it would all be over.
Hannibal had watched this thought process with vapid interest, and Will met his eyes as he strengthened the grip on his staff. “We have to light the signal,” he announced. Katz nodded as if to say, ‘yeah obviously,’ but the look Hannibal gave him was harder to discern. His amber eyes twinkled darkly. The hand at his back increased its pressure for a mere instant and then retreated completely.
All of this had transpired in seconds and the mage was looking over his shoulder in a constant state of panic. And for good reason, because more darkspawn were approaching, had spotted their vulnerability at the doorway. Will slammed down his staff and directed it to the line of enemies. The strength of the spell was so intense he had to shut his eyes for moment, the release of mana making his lids spasm.
The flames burst forward, lighting up the darkspawn like underbrush. And then Will led the forward charge. Before he could change his mind, he was rushing into the tower, applying blasts of flame to every darkspawn he passed. Behind him he could hear the work of the others as they hacked and slashed and spelled the leftovers into a final death. He didn't need to look to know Hannibal was by his side, effectively guarding his flank.
They were halfway to the stairs when Will heard a horrible crunching sound and whipped his head around. A darkspawn, the biggest he'd yet seen, an alpha, had taken hold of the mage guard by the throat and lifted him in the air, its horrible hands crushing the man's windpipe. The mage's eyes were vessel-popped pink and his mouth was helplessly hanging open. Will cried out, lifted his staff, but it was too late. The alpha darkspawn twisted its hand and the mage's neck snapped with ease. A delighted growl ripped from the alpha and it threw the body straight at Will and the others. Katz was knocked down. But Hannibal hauled her up in an instant and they began to barrel through, fighting past dozens more monsters until they finally reached the steps.
Will tripped on the blood slicked stone and Hannibal caught him by the waist of his robes and practically tossed him to the top of the steps as he and Katz clambered up behind him. Will threw himself into the door, busting it open. All three ran through and slammed it shut. They heard a rain of arrows pelting the door from the other side. Will wiped the sweat from his brow. They had passed the first floor. Maker, how high was this watchtower?
The room they stood in now was less a room and more a gigantic foyer, circular, with several stone pillars positioned all around. There were no darkspawn immediately apparent, but Will could sense them nearby. Hannibal, however, sensed another threat that lay even closer. Will was about to take a step forward when Hannibal pulled him backward. “The floors are slicked with oil,” he whispered. Katz and Will both looked at the ground, horrified, and saw he was right. It seemed the entire center of the room was slicked and shining, rigged to burst into flames when ignited. Will frowned at his staff. His power wouldn't be useful here.
“We can make our way around the edge,” Katz said. The edge of the floor closest to the walls was free of the oil and they began to inch their way slowly along the sides. Still, there was no sign of darkspawn actually in the room with them. It was terribly suspicious, and Will kept his eyes wide and darting, looking, waiting.
They were halfway across the room when he saw it: a darkspawn up high, hidden behind a pillar, on a miniscule ledge. An arrow was knocked in its bow, a flame lighting its point. It was waiting for them to be in the center, Will deduced, to release the arrow and set the floor on fire. In the slick or not, at their proximity they would all three go up in flames. Will nudged Katz and Hannibal, and attempted to discreetly flutter his lashes at the darkspawn. Will had grown up having a hard time communicating with others, so it was monumentally surprising when both of his companions seemed to understand exactly what he was implying and their responses were so similarly discreet, he wondered briefly if they'd even seen to what he was gesturing.
He knew they had when, on silent agreement, Hannibal scooped Will up, throwing him over his shoulder, and Katz unsheathed the dagger at her belt and spiraled it straight and true. It pierced the heart of the darkspawn, killing it instantly but now it was teetering on its ledge. Its fiery arrow was going to fall. Hannibal, with Will held firmly over his shoulder like a bloody rucksack, jumped onto the slick oil at a run, and they slid across the slippy surface, his boots gliding with unfair grace over the expanse of the oil. Katz was just behind them. Will watched, upside down, as the arrow fell, the flame racing toward the oil. And then it hit.
Hannibal reached the end of the slick and jumped, rolling them far from the pool, and Katz was right behind them. At the center of the oil slick, the fiery arrow ignited and a wall of fire danced high, spreading quickly. Katz had only just rolled away as it reached the edge, but a trail of oil clung to her, and her hair went up at the ends of her ponytail. She pulled out her second dagger and unhaltingly chopped off the burning hair. It smoldered up on the ground at her feet and she edged away from the giant flames, until she was panting beside Hannibal and Will. Her hair was jaggedly cut, and falling beneath her chin, but she was otherwise unscathed. Will's robes had flown up around his waist and he pulled them down hastily.
They did not speak or move for a moment, just sat and caught their collective breath, watching the ignited trap that could have, almost did, burn them alive. Of course, now they reeked of oil, had it coated all over their clothes. Will had to hope they didn't encounter more burning arrows or they'd go up fast. Not until the signal is lit, he thought. Not until I've finished the job.
They stumbled to their feet and made their way across the remainder of the second floor. It seemed they were truly alone – at least for the moment – and they made it to the stairs unmolested. But that was only the second floor.
At the top step, Katz turned to Will. “Do you feel that?”
Will did feel it. An intense buzzing in his head and oily roiling in his stomach. “Darkspawn on the other side of the door.”
She nodded and made a face. “A lot of darkspawn.” Her freshly shorn locks fell heavily against her jaw, framing her face, making her dark eyes all the more intense as she stared right at Will. “We have this floor to get through,” she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, “and then we’ll be at the top. That’s where the signal will be waiting. Will,” she said, eyes darting between mage and templar. “Lighting that signal is top priority.”
He tipped his head beneath the gravity of her words. “We’ll get it done.” The cherry wood staff was held so firmly is his hand that his knuckles were white with effort. Beside him, he felt Hannibal watching, assessing, preparing. “Hannibal?” He turned to face the man. Hannibal’s expression flashed inexpressibly at the address of his name from Will’s lips, and he tilted his head, licked his lips, and met his blue, questioning eyes in earnest.
Will bit at his lip anxiously, and Katz exhaled a puff of grim laughter and said: “Let’s go fuck up some darkspawn, guys.”
She kicked open the door.
The first thing Will saw when he came through the door was a head on a pike, but he didn’t have time to linger in horror before a hail of arrows began to fall toward them. Hannibal pulled him, dragging him to cover around the edge of the closest pillar. Katz followed, and they only just missed the rain of weaponry, loosed from the line of darkspawn defense at the center of the room. Will stared at the templar with huge eyes. How many times had his life been saved by this man in the past ten minutes? Finally looking at him long enough to notice, Will took in the sheen of sweat on the man’s face, and the shallow cut across his right eyebrow. Besides those minor accounts, he was virtually unaffected by their current ideal. A templar’s training, Will supposed, to remain cool and calm in dangerous situations. Will didn’t feel calm; he felt dizzy with bloodlust. He had blood on his own hands from the piles of dead darkspawn behind them, and he wanted to spill more; an evil he could accept, and one he needed.
He took a breath and waited for a second round of arrows to sail toward them. After they’d clattered noxiously against their pillar, he jumped from cover, whipping his staff through the air and slamming it down. He shut his eyes as the spell worked through his veins. He didn’t need to look to know the power released unto the horde ahead; he could feel the heat against his skin. A rain of fire cast down upon the line of darkspawn, lighting them up, setting them ablaze. Their flesh burned and melted within the confines of their blood-marked helmets. A great number of them fell, and terrible, gurgling echoes of pain bounced between the circular walls of the watchtower. He opened his eyes when he heard the stomp of feet flying past him, watching as Katz and Hannibal ran forward, swords drawn, into the line of remaining darkspawn.
Will sucked in a breath at the sight of the carnage he had already accomplished, a grin spreading his lips. Then he followed suit of his companions, charging ahead with his staff raised, until he came face to face with one of the monsters. Up close, it was putrid. Will had no qualms attacking it with a gathering of his mana, weaving his spellwork with grace and causing the floor around the darkspawn’s feet to burn, great licks of fire engulfing it. It burned and hissed, and Will stepped away. He turned in time to see Katz skewering two darkspawn with one plunge of her greatsword. He turned again to see Hannibal gutting one of the creatures, kicking it away, spinning to slit the throat of another.
So many had fallen at their hands, but more were coming, flowing through the door behind them, bursting through in a monstrous charge from the second floor. It was a wave that seemed endless, and Katz met Will’s eye across an attack of writhing bodies and swinging blades. “The signal fire!” she yelled, and Will turned, gouged the darkspawn swiping at him in the temple with the blunt of his staff, and shoved past, breaking into a run for the last set of steps. He felt fingers digging into his shoulders, catching at his robes, ripping, and he stumbled back. Darkspawn hands twisted around his neck from behind and began dragging him backwards. Will lifted his staff, and another darkspawn hammered its fist over his wrist. The staff dropped and Will used both hands to claw at the fingers around his throat that were dragging him, cutting into the skin of his neck. Will’s muscles constricted beneath the suffocating grip.
Suddenly, a spray of blood. Will was released, collapsing to the floor, and a severed darkspawn head landed with a splat at his splayed feet. A different set of hands swept beneath Will’s arms and pulled him to standing. The templar fastened his hand around Will’s forearm, thrust Will’s staff back into his hold and began to run, his sword drawn and stained. They cut a quick and gruesome path to the steps. Hannibal pushed Will ahead of him, up the stairs, to the door. The final door between them and the signal. Will’s eyes shot back, around his shoulder, to Katz, who was fighting alone in the center of a great horde of darkspawn. Her greatsword spun around, barely keeping them at bay. They would rip her apart.
“Will,” Hannibal said, and he was standing right beside him. His breath was hot against his neck.
Will glanced between the shining eyes of the templar and the Grey Warden. And then he closed his eyes. The mana within him began to swell, and he channeled it directly to his staff. All of it. The smooth, cherry wood burned hot against his palm, and his skin tingled everywhere. Time seemed to slow. And then he slammed down his staff, letting his magic flow straight through. Fire rained from above, huge, plummeting comets of flame, filling the room, setting the dozens and dozens of darkspawn on fire. Without opening his eyes, Will felt Hannibal leaving his side, rushing down the steps.
The reek of burning flesh made him crack open his eyes. He could see Hannibal reaching Katz in the center of the firestorm, his vambraced wrists held over his brow to block the heat from his eyes, his sword joining the Warden’s as he helped her carve her path to the stairs, sidestepping the dropping balls of fire.
It was working, but Will was growing weak. It was taking all of his mana to maintain the spell. His eyelids fluttered, and he gripped the staff harder than ever, hoping it would hold his weight, because his strength was beginning to give, and his legs were buckling beneath him. But the firestorm raged on, and Katz and Hannibal were finally at the bottom of the steps, a bit singed but whole. Alive. Behind them, the darkspawn were burning, but more were still swarming through the door. Will wouldn’t be able to keep up the spell for much longer, and they would be overtaken at last.
When Hannibal stepped up beside him on the steps, Will fell into his arms, the weakness in his limbs too much. Katz barreled past them, busting through that final door. Hannibal pulled Will inside, and they slammed the door shut behind them. There was a small lock, and it wouldn’t hold anything longer than a minute or two, but Katz set it into place regardless. And then they were on the final floor of the watchtower.
“Will,” Hannibal spoke urgently, commandingly, as he shook the mage’s weakened body in his arms. “Will.”
Will’s fingers clung to the templar’s plated shoulders, sucking in deep breaths. Hannibal’s face was smeared with soot. The cut on his brow was barely bleeding but it looked inflamed. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he said as Hannibal braced his back against the stone wall. Ahead of them, Katz was walking forward, across the center of the room. Will could see the arrow-slot window, and the unlit torch waiting to be ignited, to signal to Mason’s troops that their aid was needed.
“Thank the Maker,” Katz exhaled, her hand reaching into her pocket for the flint.
And that’s when the floor began to shake.
Hannibal stepped in front of Will, pressing him into the wall, his back squared protectively against Will’s chest. Katz turned from the torch, eyes huge. From the dark edges of the wall, a figure appeared. A creature so large, so fierce, that the whole floor of the tower trembled with every step of its gigantic feet.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding,” Will heard Katz say from across the room, the torch lighting temporarily stalled as she steadied her sword before her.
“Is that,” Will began, his voice a trembling wreck at the templar’s steadying back.
“It appears the darkspawn have left an ogre to guard the top floor,” Hannibal said in a voice much calmer than it had any right to be.
“An ogre.” Will’s fingers flexed against his staff. Adrenaline was building up once more, allowing him the strength, however temporary, to stand on his own.
In the center of the room, the ogre - easily the height of three full grown, very tall men - was sniffing the air. It had horns that curved from its temples, coming to lethal points that glistened like the tips of two blood-dipped needles. The door with the shoddy lock was banged upon, as the darkspawn on the opposite side tried to get through. Luckily, the door was holding. Unluckily, VERY UNLUCKILY, the sound made the ogre turn its huge, horned head right at Will and Hannibal. It took one step toward them. Another. Another. Its steps began to speed up.
That’s when Katz struck it from behind with another one of her daggers. It pierced the ogre in its back, between its shoulders. Will saw the handle of the dagger sticking from between the oversized back when the creature twisted around to peer at its assailant. It huffed through its cavernous nostrils, focusing in on its prey. And then it charged.
Its head lowered and it blasted forward on impossibly fast feet, straight for Katz. The whole room quaked. She jumped out of the way just in time, rolling out of its path right as it pounded into the wall. The signal torch was knocked down, and it rolled away from the window. Will groaned, his hand tugging at his hair is frustration, but he didn’t have time to dwell too long on their lack of luck, because the ogre was turning from the wall, and it met Will’s eyes. He gulped. The ogre charged again, right at him. He tried to run to the side immediately, but Hannibal held him in place until the ogre was only a few feet away, then the templar shoved them both out of the way, and the ogre slammed its head into the stone wall.
While the creature was still in a daze after smashing its head, Hannibal leapt behind it and slashed at the back of its knees with his sword. The ogre bellowed and its fists pounded the ground, and it swung a huge arm out, hitting Hannibal in the stomach and sending him sailing across the room.
“Hannibal!” Will yelled, watching helplessly as the templar skidded across the floor until he hit the opposite wall. The ogre turned its attention back to Will at the sound of his voice, but Katz was suddenly there, her own sword slashing at the creature’s legs, the only part of it she could easily reach. Will clutched his staff, trying to channel his mana, but he couldn’t. He was worn down. His magic wasn’t coming. He looked at Katz hopelessly, and she narrowed her eyes at him, ducking to avoid the ogre’s swinging fist.
“The signal fire!” she screamed, and Will nodded. If he couldn’t help fight the ogre, he could light the damn fire and not make this whole excursion a complete failure. He saw the torch on the other side of the room, near where Hannibal had landed, and he began to run. His feet were unsteady and he stumbled, his long robes making him even clumsier, but he didn’t fall on his face, and for that he was appreciative. At his back, he felt the floor shaking again, and heard Katz yell, “MOVE!” and Will jumped madly to the side, hitting the floor right as the ogre charged past him. Will gasped as it headed for Hannibal, who still looked unconscious.
“HANNIBAL!” Will yelled in warning. Katz ran to Will’s side and pulled him to his feet and they both ran for the ogre, trying to catch it before it clobbered the templar. But they weren’t going to make it in time. Will’s chest felt like was being crushed as he looked. The ogre was only a foot away from the templar. He would be killed. Will had to turn his head. He couldn’t watch it happen. But he couldn’t stop it.
He heard a painful cry and looked back at an unexpected scene. Hannibal wasn’t unconscious or dead, but he was – quite shockingly – seated on the ogre’s shoulders. The torch rolled beneath the ogre’s feet as Hannibal rode its back.
“Get the torch!” Katz yelled at Will before she ran to help Hannibal.
But Will could hardly take his eyes off of Hannibal, seated high on the creature’s back, his sword lifting above his head. Will shook the shock from his eyes and made for the torch. The ogre stepped wildly as it tried to buck Hannibal from its back, and Will only narrowly avoided being smushed. He reached, grabbed the torch, and ran for the window. At his back, he heard another horrible yell. He looked over his shoulder, watched in astonishment as the ogre fell to the ground. Hannibal’s sword was plunged through its neck.
The door was shaking, threatening to give way to the darkspawn horde. Will turned back to the torch, shutting his eyes. He had just enough mana regained now to make a spark, and he lit it. The torch flaming, Will positioned it in the window. He sighed. The signal fire was lit. He turned around to tell the others.
The door slammed open, the wood splintering as dozens of darkspawn spilled into the room. Will heard Hannibal call his name, and then he felt a strange sensation in his shoulder. A pressure. A heat. He glanced down.
There was an arrow buried in his body.
He teetered, fell, his head bouncing hard on the stone.
“Will!” he heard someone scream, and then darkness.