ch 20 The Joining Ritual: A journey into darkness

Suddenly she felt thrilled, bursting with joy like a bride on her wedding day, and that sensation took her by surprise... her armour, the outfit which would attend as she shifted to another life, was the perfect wedding dress for a warrior like her. The Joining, the rite that would bind her in a deep and indissoluble way to the man she loved, and to his world. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, still smiling: Her old dream and the new one had merged in a reality that encased them both and combined them in a perfect way— today she would become a Grey Warden, and Duncan's spouse.

Liv donned her armour with slow, precise movements, piece after piece, savouring the familiarity with every gesture and with the scent of leather given off by the straps that her fingers were skillfully fastening. She was ready. She walked out the tent without wearing her heavy fur cloak, a small act of vanity of a young bride who wanted to be beautiful.

The breeze was that of a high mountain dawn that followed a stormy night, cool and crisp, full of the scent of wild thyme that was released under her footsteps and tasted of home. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, her mind caught in a whirlwind of memories that broke off when she heard approaching footsteps.

The noise stopped right beside her. "In the night before my Joining there had been a violent storm too, but...without thunder. To tell the truth it wasn't even an actual storm, because in fact it didn't rain either, let's say it was more like a ... blizzard".

Liv's eyes flew open on Alistair's awkwardly smiling face, lit by the dim light of a sun still hiding beyond the horizon. "We're in Ferelden, blizzards are not such a rare event, and thunderstorms aren't either!"

She laughed, but Alistair's gaze veiled with a sudden wistful look. "I was just trying to say that..." his voice lowered until it trailed off.

Liv already knew more than he himself did before he took his Joining, something he had ascribed to Duncan's high esteem for her, but nonetheless he endeavoured to avoid looking too worried. It was the first time he was going to attend someone in the Joining, and on the one hand he was prepared to deal with all the implied issues; on the other hand he never could imagine that that someone would have turned out to be the woman of his dreams, the one with whom he had fallen in love at first sight.

Liv felt a deep surge of affection for her friend and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, I haven't the slightest intention to miss the upcoming battle, and even less the honor to call you Brother."

The campfire had been rekindled after the night rains.

Duncan, arms folded and looking as stiff as a statue, stared at the flames with an ill-concealed expression of annoyance as Daveth and Ser Jory were heatedly debating, the latter looking not at all convinced of what he was going to do and kept complaining. He spoke as if Duncan wasn't there, expressing all his doubts about the ritual without holding back that he felt deceived.

As they approached, Liv heard him utter for the umpteenth time his whine about having a young wife, his beautiful Helena, and their child on the way. A rush of nausea caught her: Liv remembered quite well the moment he told her he had had to work very hard to be recruited, and succeeding in impressing Duncan hadn't been an easy task. Nobody was forcing him to be there, it was his choice. According to Liv's point of view he who had won the fencing tournament, which she wasn't allowed to take part in, and who had thus been recruited in her place, should decorously accept the many sacrifices demanded by the war against a looming evil that threatened everyone, including his Helena. Instead he was whining like a spoiled brat.

She shivered at the thought that if Howe's betrayal had never occurred, that man would now have the opportunity she felt she deserved, while she would have stayed in Highever attending to paperwork. Ser Jory should have felt honored to be offered the chance to grant a future to his unborn child but, just like many others, he didn't seem to understand that somebody would have to sacrifice his own life to secure those of everybody else. Or, perhaps, he just didn't want to be that someone.

Duncan looked much relieved when he saw Liv and Alistair approaching.

Liv smiled at him and then stopped behind the two men, who were too busy speculating about the forthcoming ritual to notice her arrival. "I swear I'm the bravest one here, and I'm a woman."

They both shut up all of sudden and looked toward her with an expression between amazement and offense.

Liv lingered on Ser Jory's puzzled piggy eyes for a while and finally turned her gaze on Duncan. "I am ready!" She said with determination and a hint of a smile, and was pleased to see gratitude and admiration take shape on Duncan's weary face.

Alistair took them to the Old Temple, and Liv recognized the terrace upon which she had stopped the evening before to admire the view of the valley below. Now the air was still but cold, and she regretted having left her cloak inside the tent. She recalled the mournful howl of the wind that had haunted that place the day before. She couldn't help but imagine that those gloomy sounds, closely resembling the voices of lost souls wandering aimlessly in the Fade, could be the lament of recruits dead in a bygone Joining Ritual. She shuddered and tried to convince herself that hers was nothing but superstition, though her less rational side kept telling her that the eerie silence which now enveloped everything meant that those souls, that morning, were far from there, and wouldn't come to carry her away. Not this time.

"This is it. May the Maker watch over us all." Amaury took the sack containing the flasks and a huge, somber chalice, and then walked away without another word.

Duncan climbed along the stairway that led to the Old Temple. His arrival put a stop to Ser Jory's endless complaining, to which Liv had by now stopped paying attention. To pierce the veil of her thoughts had instead been Daveth's voice: The young thief she had adamantly and too hastily judged as usual, had kept trying to talk some sense into his friend, his words proving a commitment and a willingness to sacrifice for the greater good worthy of a hero.

Liv addressed a silent prayer for his salvation. If somebody deserved to survive the Joining it was Daveth, not Ser Jory.

Duncan passed them, his eyes fixed on the stone table, first step of a long ordeal that awaited him, uttering words whose origin was lost in the mists of time. "At last we come to the Joining," were the opening words of this ancient ceremonial. They had been spoken countless times, by him and others before him, but that morning they echoed deep in his soul.

"The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation." His stride was slow and deliberate, as if every step cost him a tremendous effort of will, because every step brought him closer to the moment in which he would hand the chalice to Liv. "So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their Taint."

He turned, and his gaze fell briefly on each of them to finally linger on Ser Jory, as if he could foresee his exact reaction.

"We're...going to drink the blood of the...those creatures?" He faltered.

It wasn't the first time he heard those words from an unwilling recruit. During the last twenty years Duncan had seen of all sorts. He had seen men with the fame of valiant warriors refuse to drink until compelled by force, and casteless dwarves he just pulled out of the dust of Orzammar's slums, tear the chalice out his hands with a look of fierce determination to prove to be worthy of his trust. He had seen young men face the challenge with utmost dignity and die soon after frothing at their mouth, while others he had snatched from the clutches of an executioner protested until the very last moment, cursing him, and then passed the test unscathed.

No one had ever wished to speak of their experience during the minutes of unconsciousness that followed the introduction of the Taint in their bodies, because it was something extremely personal and intimate toward which every Warden harbored an instinctive shame. Duncan never mentioned to anyone of what he saw and heard in his turn, but he was sure that everyone's experience differed from that of anyone else.

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you. This is the source of our power, and our victory!"

Although Duncan's eyes were fixed on Ser Jory, Liv had the distinct impression his words were addressed to her. She wished she was given the chance to convey him her complete peace of mind and trust in him, but, as if he could foresee a rash action at any moment, Duncan's eyes didn't leave the man standing at his left, even when Alistair spoke. "Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint, we can sense it in the darkspawn, and use it to slay the Archdemon," he explained, a light in his eyes revealing how, to him, this was nothing but a wonderful gift, and also his disbelief in noticing it wasn't to others.

"Let us begin!" Liv succeeded in imbuing her words with confident determination and at last Duncan's gaze rested on her. She enjoyed the sight of his lips unwinding into a hint of a smile, though in his eyes she could read a silent, desperate plea. She felt a searing pain for him. That morning she might have died, but she wouldn't have preferred to be in his place.

Duncan motioned to Alistair to speak the words of the Joining:

"Join us, Brothers and Sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant,

join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn…"

Honored to be given the responsibility to utter the words of the ritual, Alistair spoke, as his head bowed in reverence. Ser Jory's eyes turned furtively toward the chalice waiting for him on the cold stone.

"…And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

Amaury poured the contents of three flasks on the smooth inner surface of the chalice and handed it to Duncan, throwing at him a quick glance of understanding.

Duncan turned to Daveth, calling his name.

If the man survived the Joining, all would turn for the best: Ser Jory would no more dare to back out of it and Liv's determination would not falter. Her determination, and above all her trust in him.

'If they just warned me...it doesn't seem fair...' Ser Jory's words had broken through Duncan's barriers and had wounded him, poisoning his mind.

Sheer terror on his face, he handed the chalice to Daveth, realizing that what he dreaded the most was that Liv might feel tricked, trapped, and that it was only her pride and legendary stubbornness keeping her from cursing him and leave.

Daveth took the chalice, and with a look of fierce determination brought it to his lips.

Turning a silent prayer to that elusive entity called 'Maker' he drank and returned it to Duncan, seemingly astonished by the fact he was still standing on his feet. Then suddenly fire flooded his body and a dark ominous voice crept into his mind, intoxicating it, depriving him of his breath. He heard distant hoarse cries; they were his, but his body was now far away from him. He fell to his knees, and all around him there was only darkness and a compelling sound, marvelous and terrible, that dragged him away like the waters of a flooding river. He knew fighting was pointless and let himself be carried away, far away, until it was impossible to turn back. His body ceased to twitch as he drew his last, gasping breath.

"I am sorry, Daveth." Another life had gone out before his eyes, together with the possibility of redemption that Daveth deserved. But life was not about justice, as Duncan had understood very early, and the following years did nothing but confirm it. Along with the cursing of Ser Jory, Duncan could clearly distinguish Liv's labored breathing; he did not raise his eyes to avoid meeting hers, but he could perfectly guess her distress and could almost smell her fear.

His eyes moved instead toward the man on his left, who had already begun to draw back trying to escape the inevitable. "Step forward, Jory!"

Yet, when he recruited him, he had made it clear, "There is no turning back," he had told him even then. And he, eyes still shining in triumph, had answered that he was honored and hadn't the slightest intention to withdraw. But at that time to Ser Jory, winner of the last fencing tournament of Highever, becoming a Grey Warden meant making himself a hero before his Helena's eyes, it meant being cheered by the crowds, not being poisoned, and even less become an acolyte in a cult of crazy drinkers of tainted blood.

"I have a wife...a child...there's no glory in this..." he stuttered while stepping back and drawing his sword.

... and if a recruit trying to escape the Joining goes for his blade, the Grey Warden is bound to kill him. The secrets of the Order must remain such.

Dawn had come, the sun casting a stray light, and Amaury had already walked away to wake Devin. He wanted to assist him when he submitted Hyram to the Joining and, then, it would have been his recruit's turn. There was no time to waste, let alone for a coward. Aware that Liv's eyes were fixed on him, Duncan obeyed the Code and drew his dagger. The blade shone in the torchlight and, quick as lightning, vanished from sight to parry Ser Jory's blow and then make its way through the breastplates.

"I am sorry..." he said in a quavering voice while the man died in his arms.

I am sorry Liv, forgive me... Forgive me for my selfish desire to share the burden with you, to have you by my side for the time the Maker will want to give us. I wish I could spare you all this but it's too late now, too late for remorse, too late to change my mind and to let you go away.

Unexpectedly Liv's words sprang from his heart, freeing his mind from remorse and fear, 'I promise that if even only in part it will depend on me, I will not come out defeated. I'll be a Grey Warden, and we'll be even more united than we already are.'

A gush of blood hit him when he pulled the blade back and let Ser Jory's body fall to the ground.

"But the Joining is not yet complete." These were words he always enunciated to his recruits after the death of a comrade and flowed by themselves while Duncan, utterly exhausted and emotionally drained, grabbed the chalice and gave it to Liv without meeting her eyes. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint for the Greater Good."

Those words, spoken so many times that he had long since stopped counting, had now taken on a meaning full and absolute, and utterly painful.

He saw two white, trembling hands grasp the chalice from his, and when she brought it to her lips he found the courage to look at her. She was deathly white, her shoulders had lost their bold demeanor, and with those huge eyes of hers, wide with terror, she looked so fragile and helpless he felt the strong urge to hug her tight and tell her that everything was going to be fine. Instead he moved backwards, surprising himself when he heard his own voice utter the words he used to reserve for the moment of awakening. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

He did not understand if his was his unconscious desire to remove the time that would elapse from that moment up to the her awakening, or if he was just ordering her to not die. Maybe he just wanted Liv to believe it was already over and that she had won the challenge.

Liv had not the time to feel disgusted for the consistency or taste of the dark liquid that fell down her throat, because it was like swallowing liquid fire. She felt her bowels writhe and then, slithering inside her head, an ominous guttural voice, grotesque and cruel, was working its way inside her mind tearing, biting, clawing... She tried to offer resistance, but the more she rebelled, the more aggressive and disruptive it grew. Her temples throbbed until she felt them burst with an excruciating pain. She surrendered, darkness enveloped her and a maelstrom dragged her downwards in a dimension in which nothing existed but a hypnotic sound that involved all of her senses.

It was pitch black. A darkness extending beyond the mere absence of light she could sense with her whole being. Then, the voice began to suggest visions, emotions, and sensations to her bare mind.

All of sudden she returned, aware of her own body when it abruptly reminded her that she had eaten nothing since the previous evening. Before heading to the wilds, Alistair had gone to his tent and had returned with a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese, a hasty meal they had eaten together while standing up. Her stomach clenched with painful cramps and a profound yearning, a longing visceral and instinctive for food took possession of her. She wanted raw meat... human meat... human flesh... and blood... warm human blood...

Hunger overwhelmed her as she wanted to tear off pieces of her own flesh from her limbs, bite it off with her yellowish sharp teeth... but she had a body no more...

No! She revolted and rebelled, although that act cost her a stabbing pain at her nape.

When the pain subsided she saw Bryce's face smiling at her, they were in the woods surrounding Highever, the air overfilled with perfumes. They had gone hunting throughout the morning but had caught nothing. The sun was high in the sky, and after the long walk, hunger made itself felt.

"I'm sorry pup but I took just a few apples," her father said, laughing at her shocked face.

"What? But... and what about the blueberry pie I saw this morning in the kitchens?"

Bryce's smile vanished. "And how could I possibly take it, pup? I'm dead." His grieved face turned into a horrific skull and soon after also the woods of Highever were gone, devoured by flames.

"Dad! No!" Her cry got lost in the void, dominated by that compelling sound, so wonderful and terrible, that enveloped her again.

The pungent smell of smoke filled her nostrils, she chocked, and when the dark grey curtain opened before her eyes she saw the imposing stone walls of her castle blackened by the fire. The many corpses strewn along the streets were covered with dusty, broken armour, and were by now nothing more than skeletons cleaned by crows. Her legs heavy as lead, just like her heart, she called Fergus, Eleanor and Bryce, but her voice was too feeble to be heard, and there was no longer a living soul around.

Now she remembered. Her father was dead, so was her mother who had chosen to stay with him, in death and beyond. Her beloved Highever, all that she loved was gone, destroyed, and erased from existence forever. She dragged herself through the ruins of her life; she was alone. Despair overwhelmed her and she fell into darkness.

She heard a distant, desperate voice calling her name and something inside her rebelled. When she painstakingly managed to lift her gaze, she recognized the door of her grandfather's library, even if it was half off its hinges and blackened by the flames. She entered. Today she was turning eight years old and she was happy because her mother had finally given her permission to read a book on the adventures of the Grey Wardens. She told her she had left the book on the table beside another present, which proved to be two useless and sickening dolls. She ignored them completely to dash onto the book.

The cover bore the illustration of a mighty warrior in shining armor intent upon tearing darkspawn with his mighty sword. Her head split in two and she remembered, Duncan!

No. I'm not alone, and one day I shall see my father and my mother again!

An awful pain at the temples hit her like the stroke of a spiked club and she screamed.

It was dark again. She was alone in the company of the sound that enveloped her like a warm embrace, making her feel protected. It gave her a feeling of tranquility, why rebel? She felt so safe shrouded in that darkness where she knew nobody would ever find her. Out there all was death and destruction and the monsters were just too many. Fear overwhelmed her.

She suddenly became aware of the fact that one single missed shot would have been enough to unbalance and kill her. Or worse, badly injured, and devoured piece after piece by those horrible monsters.

I was a fool to throw myself in this crazy adventure when I could have lived sheltered, surrounded by the solid walls of my wealthy husband's estate amongst the luxuries ...in the warmth of a fireplace... safe... sheltered... ... ... sheltered? The darkspawn horde will reach you right inside your cozy nest of false security, and would raze it to the ground along with the rest of Ferelden, said a voice in her head. And you'll have done nothing to avoid it, vile, fearful creature! And then, who wants to live closed among four stifling walls with a fat old snooty? No crappy hole in which to hide is safe, and life is made of things great and marvelous, things that are out there!

She was hit by surge of nausea when the pain struck her skull again. Each time was worse than the last, as if to punish her for her rebelliousness. She laughed. It was a game; she was used to playing hard and would win.

Again, she sensed a voice calling her name but couldn't figure out where it came from. "Please, wake up!" The voice implored her.

She recognized it; it was Duncan's. I want it so much, but I cannot open my eyes, cannot find them anymore, I cannot find my body!

My body... can't feel it anymore... then I'm dead and I have left you alone in despair! My poor love, how will you ever forgive yourself for making me drink the poison that killed me? How will you find the strength to lead your Wardens with such a weight on your soul? Forgive me, I have not been strong enough, I promised I would make it and I failed. I let you down, hurt you, abandoned you...

Remorse overwhelmed Liv, and she desired to let herself be carried away into oblivion to break free from its painful grasp.

Duncan shook his head in response to Alistair's silent question and he walked away carrying Daveth's body over his shoulder.

Duncan, kneeling on the cold stone, held Liv in his arms. It was many minutes by now and she still didn't wake up. He had hugged her whenever she was struck by spasms, comforted her when she had cried out in despair, always calling her name, always stroking her face to help her find the way back. According to his experience by now she should be beyond critical time, yet she still did not open her eyes. He tried to drive away the thought of what he had read in the chronicles, reporting that the deaths occurred in the Joinings during a Blight increased dramatically, and were anomalous.

He closed his eyes to implore the Maker, and it was then he sensed Liv through the Taint, and through it he tried to reach her.

"Follow me," a voice told her. But it was no longer just a voice; it was a presence, which she could feel with a sense hitherto unknown. Duncan? But... are you dead too? No, that's impossible...then I'm still alive?

Liv moved toward him, but she was wrapped again into the hypnotic sound, and with it came the thoughts a myriad of dark creatures ... anger, hatred, revenge. And the ominous presence that led them was endless pride. This grand but threatening presence was approaching, she knew it was chasing her and that it would find her soon.

"Can you sense me?" A distant voice asked her, but it wasn't the Dragon's. "I'm here, follow me!"

Liv decided to come out of hiding to follow the voice. It was always better than waiting to be flushed out like a rat.

The sound in her head flagged and she remembered. Duncan!

She followed him, until she finally opened her eyes and looked on his face streaked with tears. She smiled at him as she slowly lifted a hand to stroke his wet cheek, rubbing it gently.

"I... I sense you!" She told him in a voice so feeble it was little more than a whisper.

Duncan sighed as two tears of relief trickled down his exhausted but now serene face. "I sense you too."