Chapter Text
“I’m sorry.”
The ground had been too frozen to dig until Will dropped to his knees and placed his palms on the snow. He heated the small section of mountain earth, and then the digging was easy. Now they stood beside Dimmond’s resting place, the cold, persistent wind stinging their eyes. Will pulled his fur cloak tighter around his shoulders.
Alana turned from the fresh grave. “For what?”
Will swallowed; his throat felt rough. Katz turned to look at him too, her cheeks chapped from the frosty air. They had left Orzammar only hours ago, but the relief at being beneath the sky once more was tarnished by the grim responsibility of burying Dimmond. Hannibal had led them down the curving mountain road, and then a bit astray, until they arrived at a suitable spot, secluded and serene, with a clear view of the sky. Their task had been single-minded and they worked wordlessly, but now that their focus was shifting, Will’s competing frets began to gnaw at his nerves. His gaze darted to Hannibal, who cleaned his sword beside Dimmond’s grave. How long until Will got each of them killed? He lowered his eyes to the toiled dirt.
Katz exhaled harshly, her breath clouding white and swirling in the air, and she crossed the grave to stand at Will’s side. “Hey,” she said, nudging him with her elbow until he looked at her. “We did it. We got the dwarves.” Will nodded and Katz looked over her shoulder at Alana. “How many more treaty stops do we have?”
“The Circle of Magi,” said Alana.
“Just one more, Will,” Katz told him. “And there’s still my uncle in Redcliffe to consider.” She poked him again and smiled. “We’ll have an actual army behind us soon.” Her face fell for a moment. “Dimmond knew the risks. This isn’t on you.”
Will nodded and turned away from her, pacing a few steps. His chest was tight and his head ached, and not just because they’d lost Dimmond. Selfishly, a healthsome chunk of Will’s current distress was formed from his knowledge that the Circle of Magi was inevitable. Not only was it the last pledged name on the treaty, it was relatively nearby, which meant soon, too soon, he would be forced to return. He hadn’t been strong enough to block the Broodmother’s lure, how would he be strong enough to face the First Enchanter? What if she saw straight through him with her icy-blue eyes, straight to the heart of him, and saw him speared by antlers?
Hannibal re-sheathed his sword. The templar had packed away his helmet, and his hair was caught up in the wind, playing around his eyes. Will calmed as he watched the man’s familiar movements, his hand reaching to tuck his hair behind an ear. In the clarity of day, beneath a sky unmasked by stone, Hannibal’s eyes were sparkling amber, bright and light and starkly differing than how they’d appeared to Will beneath the mountain. Hannibal turned those bright eyes to Will, and Will felt his lips part slightly in response. Suddenly, Hannibal’s eyes shifted to above Will’s head, curiosity lifting his eyebrows.
Will looked upward as the black-feathered bird sailed over their heads, casting them, for an instant, in shadow. He turned, to follow its projection, and was surprised to see Katz with her arm held aloft. The bird flew straight to her and landed on her forearm. For a sad moment, Will thought it was a crow, but at second glance, he saw that it was actually a raven, with a tiny scroll wrapped with twine around its leg.
“Expecting mail?” Alana asked.
Katz shook her head as her fingers deftly freed the raven from its parchment burden. “I haven’t had a message like this in years,” she answered. “But I recognize this bird. This is from Redcliffe.” The scroll unattached from its leg, the raven abandoned Katz’s arm for a low branch and took to nipping at its feathers. Katz unrolled the message, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She read quickly, the crease between her eyebrows deepening.
“Is it from your uncle?” Alana asked.
“No. It’s from an old friend of mine,” Katz said, her voice strangely unsettled. She looked up from the parchment, tucking it into her pack. “It’s my uncle.”
“I thought you said it was your old friend.”
“It’s my old friend writing me about my uncle,” Katz clarified.
Hannibal nodded sympathetically. “Is it serious?”
“He’s been poisoned,” replied Katz. “But he’s not dead.” She took a deep breath and then declared, “We have to go to Redcliffe.”
Will tried not to look too relieved, as a poisoned relative should not be cause for such an emotion, but his physical response could not be entirely contained; his shoulders relaxed and his heartbeat slowed to a calmer racket in his chest. Hannibal caught his eye and Will almost grinned. They wouldn’t be going to see the mages today.
--
The Imperial Highway took them out of the mountains, and from there, they headed south. But they did not walk the road directly. Rather, they traveled parallel to it, at a smart distance. No more assassins had crossed them thus far, but they were not naïve enough to think targets were no longer on their backs. And besides the threat of more Antivan Crows, there was also the danger of running into some of Mason’s men, or even plain citizens who’d heard the false word of the Wardens’ betrayal that might seek to turn them in, or attack themselves. Conclusively, the Highway was a risk, and they steered clear of it whenever possible.
Without their chatty assassin to annoy them, the journey to Redcliffe Village seemed to stretch on and on, but in truth, they made excellent time, stopping infrequently, and sleeping so restlessly that they were eager to rise in the mornings and begin again. By the end of the fourth day, they could see their destination in the distance. The land was hilly, and they stood on a steep cliff that overlooked Katz’s childhood home. They need only pass over the wooden bridge and they would be on Arl Garrett’s land.
“Home again, home again,” Katz muttered.
They were midway across the bridge when they caught sight of a man, head to toe in armor, running up the hill towards them. The endeavor had him sweating profusely, and when he stopped at the top of the hill, he heaved over with the power of his heavy panting. The silence was uncomfortable as they waited for the man to catch his breath enough to speak.
“I pray you’re here to help us?” he panted at last, wiping away the rivulets of sweat before they could trail into his eyes.
“Yes, of course,” Katz said, hurrying up to the man and handing him her canteen.
The man nodded his head in thanks and chugged it back, but as his eyes roamed over her face, he nearly choked. “Beverly, is that you?”
“Beverly?” Will asked. “Is that your name?”
Katz made a displeased face. “Only technically.”
“Oh, it is you!” cried the man. “Thank the Maker!”
“Yeah, it’s me. Hi. What’s going on here? Bella wrote me that the Arl had been poisoned.”
“He has! He has! If only that was the worst of it!”
“What’s worse than that?”
The man paused. “You don’t know?”
Katz harrumphed in irritation. “There’s only so much news you can convey on a raven’s leg. Where’s the Bann?” She took back her canteen and crossed her arms.
“She’s trapped in the castle with the others!”
“Stop yelling everything, man,” she scolded. “Calm yourself and tell me what’s happened. What do you mean she’s trapped in the castle?”
The man drew in a deep breath, and Will could hear his lungs rattling. When he spoke again, it was at normal volume, but his words were laced with tremors of fear. “No one’s been in or out of the castle in days and days. The last we heard was of the Arl’s poisoning, and ever since then…things have been eerily quiet, not a peep coming from the castle. We’ve tried to get in, but the doors are sealed. Gave me a shock to even put my hand on the knob.”
Katz looked at the others in confusion.
“Sounds like it could be a spell keeping people out,” Alana said. “Or in.”
“Can you help us, Beverly?” the man pleaded.
She turned back to him with a flip of her hair, shiny and smooth as a raven’s wings. “Of course,” she answered.
“Katz?” Will asked. “How do we help if we can’t get inside?”
“Oh, we can get inside,” she smirked. “I lived here for years. You think I don’t know about the secret entrance?”
“What secret entrance?” the man asked, thoroughly astounded.
“Don’t worry about it,” Katz replied nonchalantly. She turned from the man and faced the others, her face impressively determined. “Let’s go.”
Will followed her across the bridge, and it was such a pleasant sensation to be following someone else’s lead for a change, that he had to keep checking the smile trying to traitorously pull at the corners of his mouth. Katz was heading up another steep hill, and Hannibal kept his hand on Will’s back as they climbed, like he was afraid Will couldn’t make the climb on his own. He had half a mind to swat the templar away and berate him for his mollycoddling, but the other half of his mind didn’t mind the touch at all, and he allowed the hand to remain at his back for the ascension up the hill. When they reached the top, Katz waved them towards their destination, an old lighthouse.
“Moment of truth,” she said, kicking open the weathered wooden door. “Let’s see if it’s still here.”
Katz headed in first. The bottom floor of the lighthouse was dusty and dark, and she paused for a moment at a dangling cobweb. Hannibal stepped in front of her and knocked it down with his hand. She smiled her thanks and continued on, coming to rest near the back wall, where the floor was blanketed with straw.
“I used to run around this castle when I was little,” she said, voice weighted by nostalgia. “And one day, when I was supposed to be with my tutor, I ran into the dungeons. Snooping ensued, naturally, and one thing led to another. It was only a matter of time until I found this.” She swept away the thick layer of straw, and a wooden door appeared beneath her hand, equipped with hinges and handle. “A tunnel that exited right here.” She grinned mischievously, and Will could imagine a much younger Katz, running amuck in the castle halls, face covered in rebellious dirt. “This trapdoor was invaluable to me back then. I guess some things never change.” She pulled at the handle and a cloud of dust poofed into the air. Katz sneezed, waving her hands over her face. When it cleared, she peered into the darkness the door had presented, and then she looked over her shoulder at Will and the others. “Who’s in the mood for some dungeon crawling?”
The secret passageway provided a rickety ladder for them to crawl down. Hannibal insisted he go first, chivalrous as ever, and Will wondered what would happen if he let his hand slip on one of the rungs. Would he fall into the templar’s arms? He daydreamed so long that Katz had shoved her boot through the trapdoor after him, and scolded him to hurry up.
Once they’d conquered the ladder, they only had to navigate a single, narrow tunnel, and then he was stepping out of a large grate into some sort of storage closet. Will stretched his arms, glad to be out of the dark, - he’d had enough of tunnels and closed-in spaces to last him a lifetime – but soon he found himself smushed between a broom and a templar as they made space for Katz and Alana to come through the grate, and then the four of them were huddled together, all elbows and pointy armor. Will’s eyebrows jumped to their highest peak when he realized his backside was perfectly aligned with Hannibal’s groin. He coughed and reached for the handle of the door, opening it hurriedly and making a dramatic space between himself and the templar. He blinked his eyes, adjusting to the dim lighting.
“Wow,” whispered Katz. “Looks the same.” They were in the Redcliffe dungeon, and Katz was running her fingers over the bars of a cell.
“Hello?” said an unfamiliar voice from the shadowed depths of the cell, and Katz startled, jumping back from the bars.
Will joined Katz’s side, Alana and Hannibal coming up behind them, and they peered into the darkness at the figure huddled in the corner.
“Who’s there?” Katz asked, and a man staggered to his feet. Slowly, he walked where the light could reach him.
Will gasped, stepping backward and running right into Hannibal, more specifically, Hannibal’s groin. The templar took hold of his shoulders; a calming gesture that made Will feel anything but calm. “What is it, Will?” he asked.
“Will…” the man behind the bars repeated, as if testing the name. “Not Will Graham?”
It couldn’t be. What were the odds? But his face…his face was so familiar. Will didn’t move forward, letting Hannibal’s hands rest on his shoulders, but he turned his head back to the cell in order to view the prisoner whose face was pressed to the bars. “Master Sutcliffe?” he asked hesitantly.
“You know each other?” Katz asked in disbelief.
Alana looked less surprised. “This man is a mage. Look at his robes; they’re Circle ordained.” She glanced between Will and the unexpected prisoner. “Will?”
Though his mind was whirling, he dutifully supplied an answer. “Master Sutcliffe taught classes in the Circle Tower. But he left some years ago.”
The mage behind the bars smiled sadly at him, shaking his head. “First Enchanter Bedelia sent me here in secret,” he rasped. His voice sounded dry, like he hadn’t had water in days. Resignedly, Will stepped out of Hannibal’s hold and up to the bars, passing the man his canteen. “Oh, Andraste bless you,” Sutcliffe sighed, accepting the water and drinking deeply.
“What are you doing in the dungeon, Master Sutcliffe?” Will asked. The last time he’d seen Sutcliffe, he had been lecturing to a small gathering of apprentices on the dangers of sloppy potion brewing. To see him locked up in a dungeon, his face dirty and his beard grown wild…it was a shock to the system.
“It’s a long story,” the old Master sighed. He slipped the canteen back to Will through the bars. “Why don’t you let me out and I’ll explain everything.”
Will shook his head, backing up – intentionally, this time - into Hannibal, who splayed his hand upon Will’s back possessively. “No,” he said.
Katz nodded. “Yeah, we don’t know why you’re in here. For all we know, you’re the one who poisoned my uncle.”
Sutcliffe stared at her. “If your uncle is the Arl of Redcliffe, I did poison him.”
Katz tried to move forward and Alana caught her arm, pulling her back. “Wait,” she said. “We can’t believe anything he says.” She looked at Will. “He might not be himself. We need to find your friend before we do anything else, Katz.”
When Hannibal spoke, it was so near to Will that he fancied he could feel the vibrations of his chest. “Katz, do you have any idea where in the castle your friend might be?”
Though Katz’s face was red and her fists were balled up in anger, she was able to turn from the bars of the cell and face her companions with clear, sensible eyes. “She could be anywhere, but I’m guessing she’s not down here in the dungeon. Unless she’s way kinkier than I thought.”
They began to move away, but when Will walked past the bars, Sutcliffe’s hand shot out from between them and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him close. Will gasped.
“Don’t leave me down here,” he implored desperately. His eyes were crazed. “You were always such a good boy.”
Hannibal reached through the bars and grabbed hold of Sutcliffe’s hair, yanking back his head. “Let. Go.”
Sutcliffe freed Will immediately, but Hannibal kept his fingers wound tight in the man’s hair. For a few uncertain breaths, Will was sure the templar was about to smash Sutcliffe’s face into the bars. He was disgusted with himself at the twinge of disappointment he felt when Hannibal released him undamaged. Will delivered his former Master a final look, and then he followed Hannibal, Alana, and Katz through the rest of the dungeon.
When they came across a set of steps, Katz stopped and turned hesitantly to address them. “I don’t really know what to expect here. Can you guys feel anything…mage-ish?”
Will looked at Alana. He certainly didn’t feel anything unsettling like he had in the Deep Roads, but then he’d only been able to detect the Broodmother’s presence because she’d wanted him to, and he thought the odds of another Broodmother being somewhere in Redcliffe castle a bit farfetched, even for their ramshackle luck.
Alana smiled at Katz. “We know your uncle was poisoned and that there’s a magical seal around the castle,” she reasoned. “The odds are that the mage we just met is guilty on both counts. Let’s find your friend, and then we can sort this out and see what we can do for the Arl.”
Katz nodded, and Will could see the shift in her confidence as she squared her shoulders and bounded up the steps. They followed behind, and while Will didn’t expect a darkspawn monster to be lurking on the other side of the door, he doubted their luck was so improved that this was merely a matter of a single misbehaving mage. But when they stepped out of the dungeon and into the main corridor of the castle, nothing bad happened. No darkspawn leapt, no traps triggered. The entire corridor was vacant. The carpet runner beneath Will’s boots was soft and he stepped on it cautiously. The lack of immediate danger had him more suspicious than ever. He eyed a suit of armor that stood directly in front of him.
“Try not to attack the decorations, Will,” Katz laughed, and after looking in one direction, and then another, she began walking to the left, where the corridor turned around a corner. Will exchanged an uncertain glance at Hannibal, and then they followed. Later in Will’s life, he would always hold trepidations about turning corners, and think back to this moment with a shake of his head, for waiting round the bend, greeting their entrance into the castle’s grand foyer, were a dozen dead guards.
Katz hissed in a shallow inhale of breath, but she did not pause. She looked at the others with an off put expression that almost made Will laugh, and then she continued on through the room. She looked as if she knew exactly where she was headed, and so Will continued to follow her lead with no question. He was careful to step around the bodies. In fact, he morbidly congratulated himself on his expertise when he had crossed the room without treading on a single corpse. Leaving the bodies at their backs, they walked through an intricately carved wooden archway, stepping into what appeared to be a throne room. And it was occupied.
“Beverly?” A beautiful woman was standing at the back of the room, beside the throne, and her face lit up upon Katz’s entrance. Her spiraled curls bounced with the intensity of her stride as she crossed to them. “You got my message.”
“A few days ago,” Katz replied. “We got here as soon as we could.” Katz motioned to Will and he stepped forward. “This is Will, another Grey Warden. And Alana. And Hannibal.” Warmth crept into Katz’s voice as she spoke.
“Hello,” the woman replied with a cool smile. “I’m Bella. Thank you for coming.” Her eyes rested on Will. “I wonder,” she began, “if you’ve heard from another Warden lately? Jack Crawford?”
“How do you know Jack?” Katz asked, and already Will could detect the sorrow in her voice.
“He’s an old friend of mine,” Bella answered, slightly wistful. “But I haven’t seen him in a long time.”
Katz opened her mouth to speak, and Will could recognize the signs in her body language. She couldn’t do it. So Will did it for her.
“Jack recruited me,” he began. “He was a good man.” He paused, letting Bella soak in his past tense. “I’m sorry to say he died a few weeks ago.”
Bella nodded, accepting his news gracefully. Observing her, Will doubted she could be anything but graceful. She smoothed down her hair, and then her dress. “Was it a good death?” she asked quietly.
Katz blinked back the tears from her eyes, and this time she found her voice. “He died on the battlefield in Ostagar.”
“I thought he might be there when I heard news of it,” Bella said, and then her expression changed to one of deeper concern. “I also heard of the Wardens’ involvement, but I didn’t believe it. A lot of us find it hard to believe the Grey Wardens are responsible for King Chilton’s death.”
Katz sighed in great relief. “It was Teyrn Mason. He quit the field and left the others to die.”
Bella nodded gravely, pursing her lips. “I suspected that may be the case. Especially after Master Sutcliffe’s confession.”
Alana cleared her throat. “I hate to interrupt a reunion of old friends, but might I inquire as to the dead bodies we passed in the hallway?”
Bella’s eyes went large. “Yes,” she began, “I’m afraid we’ve greater troubles than the poisoning of the Arl.” Detecting the dread in Katz’s eyes, Bella quickly added, “He’s still alive, but he’s unconscious. Been that way for a while.”
Katz shook her head. “How is Abigail taking it?”
“How is Abigail taking it?” came a mocking, sing-song voice from the archway.
Will swung his head towards the source of the sound, and his eyes came to rest on a pretty young woman. She was pale with dark hair hanging lank around her shoulders. The cut of the dress she wore was scandalous, and the smile she wore was even more so, as she slinked across the room. Bella stiffened as the girl reached her.
“Hello, Abigail,” she said, and Abigail caressed her petite white hand along Bella’s arm.
“Who are our visitors?” the girl asked sweetly, turning her head and looking up at Will through delicately curled eyelashes.
“Hi, Abigail,” Katz said. “We’re here to help your father.”
“You’re here to help Daddy?” she cooed.
Katz stole a confused glance at Will and then returned her gaze to the girl. “Yes. I’m so sorry about what happened to him.”
Abigail smiled wide, flashing white teeth. She slid her hand from Bella’s arm and walked up to Katz until they were toe to toe, then she pushed the hair from Katz’s ear and leaned in, pressing her bosom against her and whispering softly, cheek to cheek. “I’m not.”
Katz backed up, looking at the girl with mystified eyes. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing is wrong with me,” answered Abigail with a childish laugh that made Will’s skin crawl. “Bella, is there anything wrong with me?” She laughed again, high pitched and wicked.
“No, Abigail,” answered Bella reservedly, her face already cringing, like she was expecting what would come next. What came next was horrible.
“I think you are the one with something wrong, Bella!” Abigail cackled. “You naughty thing, undressing in front of our guests.”
Will watched, horrified, as Bella’s hands lifted clumsily, as if out of her control, and pushed at the neckline of her dress. She dropped her head, looking away as she slid the garment off her shoulders. Will and Hannibal averted their eyes.
“Aww!” Abigail cried. “You poor old thing! Throwing yourself at them and no one even wants to see.”
The girl waited until Bella’s dress was around her waist before she snapped her fingers. Bella paused, addled for a moment, before she realized she could move her hands again. She hastily pushed her dress back up, but kept her eyes straight down with shame.
“I don’t want anyone coming to bother me or Daddy,” Abigail commanded. She fixed Will with a sensual pout and then spun on her heel to saunter from the room.
Will exhaled following her departure, and turned to ask the others what, exactly, had just happened, but a clang distracted his attention, followed by the onslaught of armored men rushing into the throne room. A hand tightened around his wrist, and Will was pulled back, Hannibal stepping in front of him with his sword brandished. Looking over the templar’s shoulder, Will recognized the face of one of their assailants. He’d seen it before when he’d stepped gingerly over it.
“Those are corpses!” he cried.
Alana bashed one of the risen dead bodies in the chest, pushing it away. “They’ve been necromanced.”
Bella groaned, reaching a hand beneath her dress and pulling out a dagger. “It’s Abigail. She’s been raising the dead when she gets angry.” Apparently cured of her shame, the woman shoved at one of the corpses shaking its sword at her, swiftly stabbing its chest and watching it fall.
Will shortly began to notice that the corpses, though disturbingly animated, weren’t especially threatening. Their rotting hands could hardly keep a grip on their weapons. Hannibal even stopped guarding him closely, quirking his eyebrow as he watched Will set one on fire. Soon, the dead bodies were back on the floor, dead. Doubly dead? Will grimaced at the smell and then returned his attention to the others.
“Okay,” Katz began, “I know I haven’t seen Abigail in a while, but she’s a little different than I remember.”
“That girl is possessed,” Alana said matter-of-factly. She put a hand on her hip and fixed Bella with an intimidating stare. “How did this happen?”
The mention of possession had Will uneasy, much more than the bodies surrounding them, and he stayed close to Hannibal as Bella filled them in on the unfortunate series of events that had recently passed within Redcliffe Castle.
“A few years ago, Abigail began…presenting. Showing signs of magic. Naturally, Garrett was disheartened. The last thing a father wants is to have his child taken away to the Circle,” she said. Will stiffened and felt Hannibal’s hand on his back. “The Arl thought he could enlist the help of a mage, and he brought one in to the household in secret. Master Sutcliffe was introduced to everyone as Abigail’s tutor, but only a few of us knew what it really was he taught her.” Bella paused for a moment to collect herself before continuing. “When the Arl was poisoned, it didn’t take long to figure it out. Our guards found the note hidden in Sutcliffe’s tomes. It had instructions in it, and a recipe. Sutcliffe didn’t last long on the rack before he was confessing.”
Katz gave Will a meaningful glance. “Mason.”
Bella nodded. “That’s what he said. The thing is, he claimed he did what he did for Ferelden’s sake. Mason had told him that killing Redcliffe’s Arl would be a heroic step in saving us all. I think Mason knew that Garrett wouldn’t swallow his lie about the Wardens, and he wanted to take him out before his claim could be contradicted.”
“Sounds like Mason,” Katz spat angrily. “But the Arl didn’t die.”
“No. Either the poison wasn’t strong enough or the ingredients Sutcliffe used to brew them were slightly off.”
“How does all of this relate to a possession?” Alana asked.
“Because when her father got sick, Abigail was devastated,” Bella said.
After a pregnant pause, it was Hannibal who spoke. “She made a deal with a demon.”
Bella nodded. “To keep her father alive.”
Will looked up at Hannibal, at the man whose job it was to fix these very problems. A bolt of fear ran up his spine, and he took an involuntary step away from the templar. All this time together and Will had no idea how he would act in this situation. Would he kill Abigail? It seemed harsh, she was only a young woman trying to help her dad, but did that make a difference to a templar? Would Hannibal run his thumb soothingly across Will’s skin if he knew the kind of dreams Will indulged in, or would he swing his powerful sword into his neck, no questions asked, no answers necessary? As Will’s mind ran wild with paranoid fear, Alana’s led her in a more useful direction.
“Abigail would have had to have at least a rudimentary understanding of blood magic to even summon a demon, let alone be possessed by one,” she stated.
“Which means Will’s old pal Sutcliffe must have been teaching it to her,” added Katz.
That roused Will’s attention. “Sutcliffe? A blood mage?” While it seemed preposterous to imagine his former Master practicing such dark, forbidden arts, he had just poisoned the Arl. “I suppose it must have been him that taught her.” Hannibal was watching him, head cocked curiously, and Will turned away. “We should speak to Sutcliffe. Find out what he knows.”
“I agree. If he’s a blood mage, he’ll know better than I if this can be reversed without killing the girl.” Alana looked to Will. “You know him better than us, Will. Do you think he would help?”
Will crossed his arms over his chest protectively, wishing he could go to sleep. “I don’t know,” he answered, tired and truthful. “But I don’t think we have a choice.” He glanced back at Hannibal, waiting to see if he would challenge him. But Hannibal didn’t shake his fist and demand the execution of Abigail, he only smiled kindly at Will and nodded his approval.
Will sighed, and wished he knew him better.
--
Bella summoned two guards (that were still alive) to go and fetch Sutcliffe from the dungeon. When they returned, the blood mage was in handcuffs, but he looked thrilled to be out of the cell. He greeted Will with a friendly smile and answered their questions earnestly.
“I showed her a few things that are considered, by some in the Circle, to be controversial,” Sutcliffe explained. “But you must understand, not all blood magic is bad. And some demons aren’t bad either. Some just want to help. Or talk. Some are just curious.”
Will bit his tongue, but Katz was adamant. “Blood magic is evil.”
“Some of it, yes, but not the things I taught Abigail,” Sutcliffe insisted. “I showed her how to make her dolls talk and how to ask a spirit a question, but she must have…she must have continued further studies on her own.” He looked up at Bella, the dark circles under his eyes aging him beyond his years. “I’m sorry. I should not have introduced her into that world. When the Arl got sick-”
“When you tried to kill him, you mean,” Bella interjected.
“Erm, yes. When that happened, I never guessed Abigail would turn to such darkness. I would have prevented harm from coming to her, if I could. It’s why I taught her blood magic to begin with.”
“Well, you didn’t prevent it and Abigail is stuffed full with demon now,” Katz growled. “The question is whether or not you’re going to do anything to fix it.”
“I…there is a possibility of a solution, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”
Will tensed.
Sutcliffe directed his eyes at Will. “Abigail’s mind, her true mind, is trapped within a demon in the Fade. Theoretically, a mage could enter the same Fade space and track down the demon. If the demon were killed in the Fade, the piece of it within Abigail would die, and she would be restored to normal. But the only way to send someone through to a specific Fade space would require enormous power. Either through an entire Circle of Enchanters…or blood magic.”
“And what about a Dreamer?” Will heard himself asking.
Sutcliffe raised his eyebrows. “A Dreamer? Well, I suppose a Dreamer could enter the Fade whenever and wherever he chose, without the help of blood magic or a full Circle. But Dreamers are a rare breed, Will. When I was in the Tower, I only ever heard of one instance, and that was a rumor.”
Will took a step forward, his chin held high. “The rumor was true.”
Sutcliffe’s shock was tangible. “You?”
“I can go into the Fade and kill the demon.” He felt Hannibal stirring at his side. “Even better, I have my own templar to keep an eye on me.” Will turned to said templar. “You will kill me if something goes wrong, won’t you, Hannibal? If Abigail’s demon got the better of me, you wouldn’t hesitate, would you?” Will’s heart was pounding as he stared into Hannibal’s eyes. The man’s expression was inscrutable.
“Will,” Alana said softly. “Blood magic was used to create this problem. Maybe it should be used to solve it. And then I could go into the Fade after the girl. You don’t need to risk it.”
He turned from Hannibal to the Witch of the Wilds. “Why shouldn’t I risk my own life, Alana? I risk everyone else’s.” Look at what happened to Dimmond, he wanted to say, but the pale glisten in Alana’s eyes told him she was already thinking it. “I won’t risk losing you when I can do this myself. And we’re not using blood magic.” He turned back to Sutcliffe. “What do I need to do?”
--
No one was more displeased than Hannibal, but he did as he was told, unsheathing his sword and standing at Will’s side. The others surrounded them in a small circle. They had traveled down to the dungeons, where they were least likely to be interrupted, and Will was staring straight ahead, focusing on the flickering of a torch’s flame.
Alana kept glancing at Will with big, worried eyes, but he refused to budge. His whole life, he’d been told he was a Dreamer. So much potential. So special. So dangerous. Now he had an opportunity to take advantage and be useful for a change, and the Blight consume if he was going to pass it up.
Sutcliffe murmured a chain of words behind him, and Will tried to remember the man’s instructions. Relax, close your eyes, think of Abigail. Relax, close your eyes, think of Abigail. Relax, close your eyes…
“Daddy?”
Will opened his eyes. Abigail was standing in front of him. They were surrounded by a beautiful courtyard.
“I’m not your father, Abigail.”
Her lip trembled and she put her hands on his chest. “Hold me, Daddy,” she whimpered.
Will settled his hands on her shoulder and pushed her back. “I’m not your father. And you are not Abigail.”
Abigail pouted. “You don’t wanna play? I thought you liked playing with sweet things like me.” She stepped close, her lips ghosting over Will’s cheek as she whispered, “Am I not quite your type, Will?” When she stepped away, her eyes had changed. They were bright and clear, sparkling like amber in the sunlight. “Do you love me now, Daddy?” she asked, sliding her hands coyly around Will’s neck. She leaned in, lips hovering over his, and Will breathed in, shocked by her scent. She smelled like…she smelled like him.
Will grabbed her wrists and pushed her away with more force than before, and there he was, standing before him. His hair fell over his forehead, soft and shining, freshly dried from a rinse in the river. He tilted his head at Will and smiled.
“How about now?”
Will stumbled backward, but Hannibal swept him up in his strong arms and pulled him close. He stared in awe at the face above. What was Hannibal doing here? Will opened his mouth to ask, but the templar silenced him with a warm finger pressed to his lips.
“Shhh…this is what you want, isn’t it, Will?” His hand cupped Will’s jaw. His thumb rubbed over the flesh of Will’s ear. Will leaned his head helplessly against the comforting touch and a pathetic whimper escaped his lips. “I know, I know,” Hannibal soothed. “It’s okay. You can have it. You can have me. All you need to do is let me in your head.” Hannibal kissed his cheek. “Tell me you want me inside, Will.”
“H-Hannibal…”
“Tell me I can come inside.”
Will sighed in Hannibal’s arms. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? This was the way Will wanted Hannibal to hold him. He could let him in…he could give him anything he wanted. He wanted to…he wanted...so much…
“Will.”
He jumped at the sound of its voice, pushing from Hannibal’s arms and twisting around. There, standing tall and lean and black as midnight, was the demon. His demon. Antlers and black eyes and beautiful leathery skin. It looked over Will’s shoulder at Hannibal.
“Will,” the demon said, “who is this?”
“It’s Hannibal,” Will replied, turning back to the templar and laughing. “My friend.”
Hannibal laughed too.
The demon did not laugh. Instead, it walked forward and settled its long, bony fingers on Will’s shoulder. “Look, Will. Who do you see?”
Will frowned up at the demon, but then he turned obediently and looked once more at Hannibal. The demon let him go and Will took a few steps forward, squinting at the templar. Looking. Really looking. It was Hannibal’s hair and Hannibal’s eyes. Hannibal’s skin and Hannibal’s rough stubble along Hannibal’s jaw. Hannibal’s throat and Hannibal’s shoulders. Will inhaled and smelled Hannibal’s smell. And then he shut his eyes. At his back, he felt the demon’s embracing heat, and before him, where Hannibal stood, he felt…
Will opened his eyes.
Hannibal was smirking. “Are you going to let me inside your head?” he asked impatiently.
Hannibal was never impatient. Not with Will.
“You’re not Hannibal.”
The figure flickered.
“You’re not him,” Will said, louder this time. His head was suddenly clear, and he remembered the words Sutcliffe had told him to say. He repeated them loudly. “Show your true form, demon!”
Hannibal flickered again, and then changed before Will’s eyes. Where the templar had been standing, a woman now floated in the air. She was gorgeous and strange, with purple flaming hair and lovely, feminine horns curving daintily from her smooth forehead. She was naked except where gold jewelry draped from multiple piercings in her body. And her eyes…her eyes were black.
“Desire,” Will whispered, for he recognized this demon from his studies.
“Beautiful Dreamer,” was her honeyed reply. She looked him up and down with glittering eyes. “You are a prize. So I will give you one more chance to take me up on my deal. Let me in and I’ll let you live.”
Will shivered but stood his ground. “I don’t make deals with demons.”
She laughed in his face. “Oh, that’s rich.”
Will felt his demon coming to stand beside him, could see its antlers spiraling shadows on the misted floor. With the strength of his friend at his side, he looked Desire in the eyes. “You have to die.”
She laughed even harder, clutching her slender stomach as the chuckles shook her hourglass frame. “I suppose you think you can kill me.”
Will concentrated, but did not close his eyes. He felt the swarm of energy roiling in his core, guiding the flames to his fingertips. “I know I can.” He jumped for her, grabbing her face.
Desire screamed, writhing beneath his fingers. Will watched, fascinated, as she began to smoke under his touch. He felt his demon’s sharp nails caressing down his back, pressing its body close to Will’s, watching, rapt, as Desire burned and burned. He couldn’t believe his power, couldn’t fathom how easy this was, but he didn’t let go. He observed every second, every agonized twitch, and every smoldering inch of flawless skin until she released a final scream, throwing back her head and vanishing into wandering wisps of black vapor.
Will stood in shock, hands still raised and fingers still sparking with heat. He stood until the demon pressed itself flush against his back and lifted its hands to gently clasp Will’s wrists, lowering them slowly. It bent down its head and pressed a kiss against his neck.
“I…I almost believed her.”
The demon ran its hands down Will’s chest, over his hips. “But you did not.”
“I would have if you hadn’t helped me,” Will cried, turning in the demon’s arms, looking up at it with watering eyes.
A slender finger wiped a tear from Will’s cheek. “Desire is powerful, my love. You did well.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You killed her. That is a success for you. And if I was able to help,” it added, stroking along Will’s lower lip, “that is a success for me.”
Will blinked, lowering his head when more tears began to stream down his face.
“Look at me, my sweet boy.”
He did, lifting his eyes through his tangle of curls. The demon carded its fingers through Will’s hair, pushing it from his eyes. And that single, tender gesture was all it took to make Will collapse into the demon’s arms. Sobs shook his entire body, as worries to last a thousand years broke through the surface. “I wasn’t strong enough,” he cried, rubbing his face against the demon’s chest. His fingers clawed desperately. He couldn’t get close enough. Could never get close enough. “Dimmond died because I couldn’t block the Broodmother’s influence from my head. He died, and it’s my fault. I was weak, I was so weak, not even brave enough to use blood magic. Peter was brave enough.” He snuffled hopelessly, not even sure what he was saying anymore, his fists beating into the demon’s chest, then fanning out around its body and squeezing, scratching.
“You are safe, my love,” it whispered, tilting Will’s tear-streaked face and demanding his eyes. “Nothing is going to hurt you. I have you.”
Will shuddered, trying to steady his breath. His demon tilted its head, overwhelming Will with a rush of familiarity. “Kiss me,” he sighed. His demon complied, dipping its head and pressing their lips together, while its arms wrapped Will snugly against its body. Will deepened it, kissing the demon with bruising force. He darted out his tongue and licked the seam of the demon’s mouth, savoring the moment when it parted its lips in allowance, and Will slipped his tongue inside. He gasped at the dizzying heat of its mouth, and the sharpness of the teeth he traced with his tongue. When he felt the demon moving away, Will grabbed the back of its head and held it firm. He wasn’t done. He would never be done. Only when he couldn’t breathe did he finally break away, and that was only to gasp needily, “More. I need more.”
He groaned when the demon swept him into its arms, and then, with speed only the Fade could provide, they were back in their hall and his demon was spreading Will over black silk sheets. Divinely soft, he sank into them, stretching his arms above his head and moaning as the demon draped its body over his.
He was naked, as he should be in their space, and when he felt the tickle of sharp claws at his thighs, he spread them. The demon slotted their bodies together, lying between his open legs, and Will demanded back its mouth fervently, kisses open and desperate. “Please,” he heard himself repeating, over and over, his lips brushing hot against his demon. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was begging for, but he trusted blindly, madly, that his demon would know, so when he felt the teeth biting gently into his neck, he sighed, and when he felt long fingers spreading the flesh of his buttocks, he moaned, and though his eyes flew open with surprise when he felt the blunt tip pushing against his tender entrance, he wasn’t afraid. His demon would never hurt him. It loomed over Will, black eyes shining, and slowly, so slowly, it pushed inside.
Will wasn’t sure if it was the Fade that made its entrance so smooth and painless, or if it was the demon’s own magic slicking its way, all he knew was that this…this was what he needed. He shivered, raking his nails over the demon’s back, crying out when its cock breached him utterly. It stayed there, motionless, and kissed Will’s lips. Will felt it throbbing, buried deep, and it was hot, heavy, thick, filling all of Will’s empty places. He rocked up his hips and the demon pushed up on its arms with a growl, easing even further inside.
“Please,” Will whispered, and his demon locked onto his eyes and began its rhythm, sliding out and slamming in, a melody of thrusts and groans that soon had Will panting and grinding, pleading for more.
He saw his face reflected in his demon’s eyes. He saw his kiss-swollen lips parted on a moan of pleasure, and his pupils blown black as his eyelashes fluttered. He saw the heat in his cheeks and the demon leaning in to kiss him again and again. Rough and sweet. And when he came, he screamed, while his demon pounded him relentlessly. He floated, delirious and full, and he could still feel it pulsing deep inside when its lips pressed a kiss against his ear and whispered, “Beautiful.”
--
When Will woke, his face was wet with tears and he shook with the tremors of too much sensation.
“Will, you did it,” Alana whispered, and when he blinked the blur from his eyes, he saw her standing beside his bed.
He swallowed and wet his dry lips. “Abigail?”
“She’s resting. Bella’s with her. But Will, you killed the demon. You saved Abigail.”
Will was too weak to smile. His eyes roamed past Alana to Katz, who stood at the foot of his bed. His eyebrows furrowed into a scowl as he searched for the templar.
“I’m here, Will,” Hannibal said, and Will realized that the man was sitting in a chair at the bedside, his fingers laced through Will’s fingers. Will let his head roll on the pillow so he could face him. Hannibal’s hair was soft and sweeping over his forehead, the way Will liked it best, and the way it had looked when Desire had tried to make her deal. Will’s breath grew uneasy beneath the templar’s steady gaze, and Will began to wonder, terrified, if his secrets could be seen. The templar had been watching him closely during his venture into the Fade…
“Hannibal,” Will whispered, his tone questioning and vulnerable.
“You were exquisite,” Hannibal told him, lightly squeezing Will’s hand. “There is nothing for you to fear.”
Will exhaled slowly, feeling his heartbeat return to normal. He had lain down with the demon and the templar couldn’t tell.
“Bella,” Katz said softly as her friend entered the room.
When Will shifted on the mattress, Hannibal slipped his hand beneath his back and helped him sit up. “How is Abigail?” Will asked as he leaned to rest against the headboard. It seemed they had relocated him to a guestroom while he had been unconscious. Hannibal had probably carried him there and tucked him into the bed while Will had been moaning with the demon between his legs.
“Abigail is sleeping now, but I spoke with her,” Bella said kindly. “She wants to thank you when she wakes.”
“No need to thank me.”
“Will, stop being modest. Half of Ferelden wants a statue of you at this point,” snorted Katz.
“I’m curious, Bella,” Hannibal said. “Has the Arl’s health improved upon the death of the demon?”
Will hadn’t remembered to ask about the Arl, and he looked up at Bella hopefully. But the small smile on her face disappeared and she shook her head.
“The Arl’s condition has neither improved nor declined. I fear he may never wake up from this sickness.”
“But we need him awake,” Will said, realizing how selfish he sounded and not particularly caring. “We need his help fighting the Blight.”
Katz didn’t seem offended by Will’s bluntness. In fact, she quickly joined Will in his insistence. “You’ve been to see different healers? You’ve tried everything?”
Bella sighed. She looked as tired as Will felt. “Before Abigail’s possession, we had all the experts come and see him. First Enchanter Bedelia even paid him a visit. There was nothing anyone could do.”
Will shivered at the mention of the First Enchanter. She had probably been in this very room. “Alana, you’re a skilled healer.”
“I have already tried. My magic didn’t even make a dent.”
“Think, Bella. Is there no chance at reviving him?”
“There is no reasonable chance that I can see,” she answered wearily.
Hannibal hummed thoughtfully and then asked, “Is there an unreasonable chance?”
“Nothing but lore,” Bella sighed. “A fool’s errand.”
“A fool’s errand?” Katz perked up at once. “That’s our specialty, or hadn’t you heard?”
“No, Beverly, it’s not realistic.”
“Why don’t you tell us what you’re thinking and then we can decide whether or not it’s realistic,” Katz argued, crossing her arms stubbornly.
“Alright. Have you heard the legend of Andraste’s ashes?”
Katz and Will shook their heads, but Hannibal nodded knowingly. “The Urn of Sacred Ashes.”
Bella tipped her head at the templar. “It is said her ashes contain a healing property so profound they can cure any ailment. But it’s only a legend. No one has seen the urn in hundreds of years.”
“But you know where it might be?” Katz pressed.
“I know of someone who might know,” Bella said with a shrug. “A professor who has committed their life’s work to finding the urn.”
“Where is this professor now?” Katz asked.
“The last I heard word, in the village of Haven, in the Frostback Mountains.”
Katz smiled at Hannibal and Alana. Then she turned to Will. “Sound foolish enough for us?”
Will rubbed at his jaw and was surprised to feel the beginnings of stubble spreading over his skin. “Seems a bit tame, to be honest.”
“Haven’s not too far from here,” added Alana.
Will looked down at Hannibal’s hand, which was lying close to his own on the mattress.
“Redcliffe’s army will be useless to us without its Arl,” Hannibal said.
Will sighed and glanced at Bella, and the puzzled frown on her face made him laugh aloud. What was wrong with detouring to Haven for a few days? They needed the Arl’s help. And any plan that helped Will avoid the Circle was a plan he could get behind. “We need to find this urn,” he said.
“It’s not going to be as simple as that,” Bella warned.
“No,” Will agreed. “But we still have to try, don’t we?”