Cousland – Dungeons

"So, you're really going to do this." Fergus' tone crossed between astonished disbelief and bewildered amusement. There wasn't even a question involved, just a smug older brother look that Cousland had grown to dislike after twenty years of looking at it.

"Yes." His tone is clipped. Even. If he doesn't rise to Fergus' bait, he wins. He leaned around his brother to catch Alistair's eye. "We're heading out as soon as Brosca gives the 'ok'. Tell the girls?"

"You got it." Alistair gave a nod and hustled around the side of the windmill to where Morrigan and Surana had set up a makeshift milling station. None of them knew what lay in the tunnels underneath the lake or what exactly was going on in the castle itself. They'd be cut off from any aid from Ser Perth's knights until the gates were thrown open and Surana's healing capabilities only went so far. The poultices that they crafted would ensure that what Surana could spare wasn't wasted on an injury better served with a bandage .

"I have a question for you, brother." Fergus stepped closer once Alistair was out of hearing range; and his voice dropped so any potential eavesdroppers would require some effort to listen in. "Does Alistair remind you of anyone?"

Cousland frowned. "No? Why? Should he?"

Fergus shrugged and handed over a dagger to replace the blade that snapped in the jaws of one of the undead creatures the night before. "I'm not sure." He looked up again and the gaze offered Cousland's way was one born of feigned dismissal. "Forget I said anything."

"Hardly." Cousland couldn't say more; Brosca's voice could be heard from the tunnel. He shouldered the pack and fixed Fergus with his best noble stare. "We will talk after the castle."

"Yes," Fergus' murmured, eyes on Alistair as he reappeared. "We will." With that enigmatic statement, he bid them safe journey and hustled to meet with the gathering of knights further down the hill. He tossed one look over his shoulder at the Wardens before engaging Ser Perth in discussion, heads bent low as they planned out the attack regardless of if the Wardens could throw open the gates or not.

Cousland watched him until Brosca's dark face poked up from the tunnel, scowl and all. She hopped out of the entrance and brushed cobwebs off her leather as she stepped out into the sunlight. "It's passable."

"Passable?" Alistair frowned. "What does passable mean?"

Brosca pointed at Shale, then Sten. "They'll have to wait with the knights. Shale's too big—"
"I beg your pardon."

"And Sten's too thick in the torso; they won't make it through some of the narrow parts," Brosca continued right on past Shale' indignation. "I think Aedan and Alistair can make it. Duran will have a tight squeeze but he's dwarva, he'll manage." She gave the elves a few glance overs. "The elves are scrawny enough that it doesn't matter and Morrigan can just shape-shift into her spider form."

"Ew." Tabris crinkled her nose, prompting the witch to give her a look. "What? I don't like giant spiders ok?"

"Fine then," Morrigan sniffed. "See if I rescue you from the crumbling cellars of a madman's workshop ever again." She stepped forward and took the smaller pack Cousland had made up for her. In exchange, she handed over the few poultices that her and Surana managed to make. At his disappointed expression, she shook her head. "We don't exactly spend the days out gathering, and with how you and Alistair become bleeding hearts concerning pretty barmaids, we don't have the silver to fill our stock."

"That silver was from when I left Highever. I can spend it how I please, when I please without your disapproval, Morrigan."

She merely sniffed in response.

"You guys done yammering so I can show us the way?" Brosca rolled out one of the empty grain packs and plucked up some charcoal from the previous night's fires. She licked the tip of the piece with her tongue and proceeded to sketch out a crude rendition of her scouting results. "I think your Arl's escape tunnel either uses a closed off Road, or his ancestors had dwarva aid. Ain't no way a surface dweller managed this route without causing a cave-in."

She circled a few places. "There's bottlenecks here, here, and here. Probably to make sure you just can't send in an army after whoever's fleeing down the tunnel and a little over halfway through there's a door like what the dwarva use. I'd bet you a night's rations that's where the ring comes into play."

"Wonder how old the tunnels are, then." Alistair popped up on Cousland's right side. "I spent days down there as a child and never considered it was anything else than old stonework. Weird stonework, mind you." He caught Cousland's look. "What?"

"You grew up here?" Cousland frowned. "How do I not know you then?"

Alistair blinked. The realization that he'd said something he probably wished kept secret washed over his features like the oncoming tide. "Did I say I grew up here? I meant I threw up here. In the tavern. That ale is horrid, I wouldn't sell it for a copper."

"Alistair." Cousland said, trying his best to use the infliction Fergus would use to calm him down. "We're blood brothers within the Wardens, right?" He nodded when Alistair nodded," and I'm sure no one else here is going to lord anything over you—"

"Speak for yourself," Brosca snorted.

"-Nadia doesn't count."

Alistair looked 'round at all of them. "Yeah, you're right. Ok." He took a breath and then launched into a rapidfire explaination that left most of them staring blankly at him. Morrigan looked bored, but that was her normal expression these days.

"Say again? But, uh, slower."

"Right." Alistair shifted his stance. "Just, don't hold it against me. I wanted to be a nobody as long as possible." He folded his arms, then unfolded them and Cousland was struck by the sudden realization that Alistair probably wasn't much older than Kallian, their youngest member. That was a sudden blow and when he stared at the senior Grey Warden, Alistair appeared in a different light.

"I'm going to hold the suspense against you!" Leliana teased, but Cousland could see the same revelation in her eyes as what just occurred for himself.

"I'm a bastard. I told you already in camp but my Dad wasn't just some soldier who stayed in my mom's bedchambers for a night. He was King Maric. I'm Maric's son and Cailan's half-brother… I suppose."

The Wardens were quiet after that. Alistair stared at each of them, trying to gauge their reactions until Brosca broke the growing tension. "So you're not just a bastard … but a royal one at that?"
"Hah, never thought of it that way. Guess I am!" Alistair's smile was wane, but the relief was evident in his eyes. "Seriously though, just … it doesn't matter, all right? I was told from a very young age that I shouldn't go looking for armies to rally to my banner and somesuch like that."
"Does that make you the heir?" Aeducan lifted his attention from the sketch Brosca made. "In dwarva custom, you would be one of the considerations by the assembly."

"What?!" Alistair became even paler. "No. No! Look, if there is a rightful heir, it's Arl Eamon. He's Calian's uncle and the people respect him and –"

"He's ill, or possibly dead." Cousland cut in.

"Maker, you're right. Oh, this isn't good. This… can we just go now?" Alistair was as white as a bed sheet now. His gaze was frantic as it darted from Cousland, to Aeducan, to the girls who stared curiously back at him.

Sten drew Cousland's attention by picking up the final pack. "As Brosca said, Shale and I will stand with the knights. Do not make us wait long."

There was one final round of preparation before Brosca rolled up the makeshift map and the Wardens chosen to head below the windmill into the tunnels departed. The mood was somber due to the unknown that laid before them. Brosca said the tunnels were empty but that meant little if the menace affecting the village was a bunch of spirits crossing the Veil to inhabit the bodies of the dead. Morrigan mentioned that if this was truly autonomous, not the work of a mage, then the Veil was dangerously weak and there could be another outbreak any moment.
The thought did not sit well with Cousland.

Down the makeshift ladder and through the first archway of the tunnel they went. Brosca had taken her scouting time to light the lanterns that hung from the rough-hewn walls and the caverns were washed in the pale orange that flickered with the weak draft that followed them from above. The walk was uneventful, if a little unnerving for the tunnel quickly turned into a staircase cut into the rock that held a steepness that made even Mahariel wary with his graceful step. Brosca and Aeducan seemed at home; the tension of constantly being underneath an open sky gone from their shoulders. They could hear the faint rush of water somewhere beyond the layer of stone that kept them from being crushed at the bottom of the lake and even the whispered bickering of Morrigan and Alistair died down in light of the perilous darkness stretched before them.

Cousland's hand shifted over his sword for comfort. He knew the blade would give none but what else had he down here in the dark? For the past few weeks he had come to trust Brosca but that seemed pale when placed next to the absolution he had to grant now. One wrong turn from her and the tunnel could become a tomb. He never voiced his opinion on how the escape tunnel could effectively be used as a last-ditch attempt to gain some upper-hand over a would-be attacker, but he figured the thought formed in everyone's mind from the heavy silence.

"Here." Brosca held up her torch to the wall ahead of them and it took Cousland a second to make out the narrow fissure that the torchlight didn't illuminate. The rogue had been correct to suggest Sten and Shale remain behind with the knights. There was no way they could shoulder through, and even he was giving the rock a dubious study, wondering if his shoulders could fit, even if he went sideways.

"Nadia, you head through first. Then the elves, then Morrigan and Leliana. Alistair and Aedean next, then I'll bring up the rear. If there's complications I can shoulder someone through." Aeducan looked up to him first, Cousland being the tallest of the Wardens down there. "If Brosca says you can fit, you'll fit."

Assurance from a dwarf who had spent their life living within the claustrophobic tunnels of the underground roads was not the type of assurance that bolstered Cousland's spirits and allowed him the courage to bluster through. What did have that strength, though, was the fact that if he balked now, his pride would be damaged before the others.

So, he merely nodded. He unsheathed the greatsword; the weight bearing down hard on the muscles of his arm, and held the sword sideways. It would add inches to his profile if he kept it covered and with it out, he felt a little more in control of the situation.

Brosca disappeared through the fissure first. The reflection of the torch she held faded quick, and left the rest of them in an uneasy darkness. The blue glow of Surana's staff blinded him when she moved forward at Brosca's muffled affirmation that it was safe to follow.

Mahariel was directly behind her. His footsteps were silent and he was a shadow fading into black as he moved through. Next went Tabris, who was slender enough that she could walk into the fissure somewhat normally, using her hands as rough guidelines for where to step. Morrigan went after her, her golden eyes luminous in the little light that reached them. Leliana, then, and finally Alistair. The templar muttered under his breath as he pressed his hands hard against one wall and shimmied through.

Then it was Cousland's turn. Sarim whined behind him. Somewhere in the distance, he swore he heard something skittering. Something terrible just waiting and biding time until he was unable to flee.

"We are brothers in blood." Aeducan's gruff voice echoed in the tunnel. He repeated the words Cousland had spoken to Alistair to have the templar trust them with his greatest secret. "You will come out unharmed on the other side."

Cousland's pulse thundered in his ears. He took that first step.

The stone scraped against the cloth that covered the chainmail shirt he wore, catching at the fabric. He imagined it was hands grasped out into the shape of claws to hook him in place. His breath was hot against his face. He could not see and every step sideways that did not bring light and freedom was another stab of nervousness that wound like a tightening noose about his neck. He stumbled over loose rock. He gashed his palm against jagged stone and felt the stinging pain ascend up his wrist.

He stepped sideways a final time and half-stumbled into Alistair who easily caught him. His sword's clatter onto the floor jolted him out of his nerves and when Aeducan patted his upper arm as the dwarf passed by, Cousland finally found the ability to take in a deep breath.

"Stone, it really is a Deep Road." Brosca hefted the torch high enough to reflect images and symbols that meant nothing to Cousland but apparently everything to the two dwarves. "The humans must have just cut their way through - made a new crossroad."

Aeducan frowned and turned to stare down into darkness that swallowed up the tunnel on all sides of their party save for the fissure right behind them. "Can darkspawn weaken the veil?" He asked of Morrigan and Surana.

Morrigan shook her head. In the torchlight, she bore the expression of unease with their current situation. Cousland figured that was what he looked like if they were to gaze his way. "Nothing that I have read or studied suggests such a thing. It is abominations and magic that wears down a groove in the worlds that spirits and demons can then use like a game trail through the wilds."

Aeducan's unease is not the same as the humans', but he wore it all the same. His shield and sword are brought to ready. "We keep moving. This section of the Deep Roads has not seen dwarva presence in a very long age. I do not want to face the undead and a darkspawn patrol at the same time."

Leliana shivered, her blue eyes upon the very darkness Aeducan had studied. "Agreed. It can't be too much further, can it?"

That question lingered between them as they crossed over the uneven road and to the other side, where Brosca said that the stone was different. It was not cut by dwarva craftsmen, she explains but by human hands. There's a smug overtone in her voice that prompted a dirty look from Cousland, but otherwise she seemed to be knowledgeable about the subject.

Sure enough, even Cousland could tell that they were in the castle itself. The walls were natural stone, but cut with chisel and hammer. The tunnel rose up again, turning into a second steep staircase that dead-ended before a heavy grate, the metal rusted with age and exposure. It took Cousland, Alistair, and Aeducan to lift it, and though they tried to keep quiet, the grate protested the entire way, groaning and whining loud enough that Cousland feared the entire castle heard their arrival.

"Creators..."

Mahariel's whisper had him turned around to see what called for the normally stoic Dalish to let loose an involuntary reaction. Cousland's own reaction was more visceral. Ostagar was far enough back now that to look on that night's events was more like looking on a terrible memory. They had fought off bandits since, and the darkspawn when they found Shale. There was the battle last night, but this...

This was a massacre that shoved him straight from Ostagar and Grey Wardens to the sight of Oren sprawled broken on the floor, his mother's body still warm as she died in vain to protect him from the hacking blows that had severed them from their lives.

He turned again and retched. His stomach churned and his body trembled under the weight of the parallels. He did not see the emblazon of House Guerrin, the red tower upon the white background. He saw the green laurel upon the blue field. He hunched into that grate and used the heavy metal to support him when his body refused to support itself.

When the past left him and his awareness returned to the present, there was a waterskin offered his way, backed up by the soft glow of Surana's staff and the soothing compassion within her gaze. He took it with wordless thanks.

The others had given him a modicum of privacy, spread out in the dungeons. Mahariel was checking the bodies that littered the floor like fallen leaves. Behind him, Alistair and Aeducan were dragging them to a central pile where Tabris and Leliana were setting up kindling. Brosca and Morrigan were tasked with the lighting of the pyre. No one looked thrilled with their jobs.

Tabris' eyes kept jumping to the elves thrown in with the human dead. Her gaze lingered on their skulls, and that there was only severed tissue where ears should have been.

Mahariel stepped into the room, his expression just barely containing the fury Cousland could sense underneath the Dalish' composure. It matched his own. It matched all of theirs. When he had told Alistair they were now brothers by blood, he had not expected it to take hold as truth so quickly. The taint rolled along their veins, stirred their dark passions, and underneath his own growing hatred at this situation, he could feel the echoes of the others. Only Alistair was distant. The song of his taint a subdued dissonance.

He had not drank of the same cup as them. He was more a cousin by the blood if Cousland lingered on the philosophy of their situation for too long.

"What is it?" Leliana wiped the back of her hand over her forehead, leaving a smear of grime to take the place of the sweat.

"Live one. He is not an abomination or a corpse." Mahariel's stare pierced Surana in place by Cousland. "He wore the style of robes that you did when we first met."

"A survivor of Ostagar?" Surana mused and Cousland could see the hope sparked in her eyes. True to her healer nature, she looked to him for permission. Was he well enough that she could step away?

He nodded. He watched her go, then watched Mahariel turn and follow to offer protection.

Morrigan's nose wrinkled as the smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed the room. It was her magic that kept the fire contained. "T'is not a sign of things going well in the castle."

"I know Morrigan." Cousland bent over a body not yet thrown on the pyre. "Arlessa Isolde came from here. She had guards. There is obviously still a living presence within this place."

"Is it the sort of living we're gonna want to speak with, though?" Brosca inquired. "That's the real question we're gonna want to find answer to."

"How about we start thinking positive thoughts, yeah?" Alistair's voice is wane, but with the steel of indignation. "Case you forgot, Nadia, I used to live here."

Brosca opened her mouth to speak, then closed it. "Yeah. My mistake. Sorry, Alistair."

"It's -"

Surana's shout cut off Alistair's reply. Weapons were unsheathed and the seven of them rushed through where Mahariel took their healer. They rounded the corner and stumbled over the bodies not yet removed. Sarim growled; stalking forward to bring down whatever was bringing distress to one of the Wardens. Up ahead, Cousland spotted Mahariel against the wooden frame between sections of the dungeons. He leant against it like it was a tree in the forest. His stance was relaxed, but his gaze was alert.

"What is it?" Alistair reached him first.

Mahariel pointed, and when Cousland moved to gain insight on where the Dalish was pointing, he found Surana flush against the bars of a cell, her arm groping wildly within. Her face was a twist of rage and desperation, her hand curled into a claw.

"How dare you blame that on me!" Surana's voice was cracked, high-pitched and hoarse from the tone she used. Her white hair, plastered to her scalp, shone brilliant blue and green from the wisp that swooped around her. "You put yourself here Jowan!"

"Does she... know him?" Cousland asked of Mahariel.

"It appears that they were once apprentices together." He replied.

"Not just apprentices." Surana noticed them. She stopped trying to snag whoever Jowan was and whirled about to face her fellow wardens. Tears streaked in the dirt over her face. "He was my family in the tower. We did everything together and then he betrayed me and sent me to Ostagar!"

"I didn't have a choice!" A man shouts from the back corner of the cell. Cousland stepped ahead, taking the torch from Brosca. He thrust it forward to reveal a man who had definitely not seen the outdoors in at least a week, maybe longer. He was sallow and his robes hung off of him from being caked in dirt and grime. His hair was dark and matted, but in his eyes was the same sort of gleam that he caught shimmering between Morrigan and Surana whenever they underwent a ritual.

"You had a choice." Surana returned to glowering at him. "You could have not been Maleficarum! You could have been honest with me. I lost everything because I trusted you." Her voice cracked a second time.

"Wait." Alistair moved up now. "He's a Blood Mage?"

"I only dabbled in it." Jowan protested the title thrust upon him. "I had to. I had to try something to show them that I could have just as much chance at surviving the Harrowing as Neria."

"No." Surana's voice drops to a cold, flat monotone. "Don't you dare. You turned to Blood Magic because you wanted power. You sacrificed Lily and you sacrificed me. For what, Jowan? For this?" She waved her hand in the air. "This is what Blood Magic brings!"

"He did this?" Brosca asked, eyes widening.

"No!" Jowan threw himself at the bars. This time, he snatched for Surana. He brought them close, close enough that their foreheads pressed together between the iron bars on either side. "No. Neria. No. Please. You have to believe me. I did not do this. I swear."

Surana tried to free herself from his grip. It took Mahariel and Tabris to wrench her back, and only because Tabris had shoved a dagger underneath Jowan's throat. "I believed you once. You can't ask me to believe in you a second time."

Jowan made a sound that was a snarl of frustration and a whining cry. "I get that! I get it. I do. Neria. Listen to me. I. Did. Not. Do. This. I swear upon everything we once were. I was here because of the Arlessa. Ok? She employed me, in secret-"

"Why?" Surana asked.

"Her son. Conner."

"What about Conner?" Alistair was now right there at the bars. His presence, combined with Tabris' dagger and the glares of the other wardens had Jowan stepping back.

"I was tutoring him. He showed signs of potential for magic and the Arlessa did not want to send him to the tower."

"I don't believe you." Surana shook her head. Her expression hardened and the air became hard to breathe. Not impossible, it felt like he had climbed a mountain and was winded. Morrigan looked affected, though. She stepped away from Surana like the healer had burned her. In the cell, Jowan collapsed to his knees.

"Neria! I've done terrible things. I... look. I was the one that poisoned the Arl. Arl Howe came by and ...caught me. He knew who I was because of the missive Gregoire sent out and offered to look the other way if I did one job for him. Just one. I wasn't supposed to kill the Arl, just …"

"Let him rot away like a vegetable while his castle descended into hell?" Alistair's voice matched Surana's now.

"I … no. This was not part of that plan. I … Conner thought I could help his Dad and the Arlessa thought, correctly, that I was behind the poisoning. I don't know how she figured it out, but she locked me up and forbid Conner from speaking with me. I think … I think this is Conner's doing."

"Now you're blaming this on a little boy?!" Surana laughed. It was a bitter, terrible sound. "First, it is somehow my fault that you dabble in blood magic and now... now you accuse a little boy-"

"I'm not lying!" Jowan rushed the bars again. "Neria-" He cut off, his attention averted over her shoulder, past all of them. "Oh... Oh Maker, no."

Cousland turned around to see Bann Teagan walk off the last step from the upward spiral staircase. Behind him were five knights and two crossbowmen. When they spotted the Wardens, weapons came up. On both sides.

"Teagan?" Cousland's wary question only added to the growing tension.

"Intruders in the dungeons." Teagan canted his head to the right. "Restrain them and bring them before the Arl."

A/N: I'm going to try and desperately ignore the fact that it's been almost two years since I last updated. Wow. Yeah. Ok. If you are a reader from back then that's sticking with me now, I say "Thank you" and to each of you that reviewed and P'd me asking for the update, I say "thank you very, very much.