CHAPTER Four: New Companions
Lysa
When she opened her eyes, Lysa wondered if she really had, for it was just as dark as with them shut. 'Is this what death is?' she thought, thinking back to what the Priestess had said at every Chant. 'I had hoped it would be brighter.' Still, it was comfortable, wherever she was. She felt as if she was lying on a soft feather bed, covered in a thick quilt. She felt her chest ache in protest as he moved about a bit. It still ached from that blow the Hurlock had given her on the first floor of the Tower-
She sat bolt upright as the memories of the battle returned. Even as she did so, it seemed as if a blindfold fell from her eyes, quite literally. She looked around in surprise. She was in a hut, or so it seemed, made of wood and stone, with fur pelts hanging on the halls and over the floor. She was sitting in a large bed and was stark naked. She hurriedly covered her chest with the blanket and turned towards a dark shape in the corner by the door. Suddenly the shape moved and she saw it was a woman. She felt her moth go dry as she watched her pale beauty. A pair of golden eyes looked out of a hard, haughty face, which nonetheless was soft and shapely, holding a brilliant beauty. She had hair pinned up with feathers of many dark colours. She wore a loose robe that revealed a great deal of her torso, which sent a shiver of appreciation running down Lysa's spine.
"Ahh, you're awake," said the woman standing beside her. "How do you feel?" she sounded calm and proud and cold.
"I'm…sore," said Lysa grimacing and rubbing her shoulder, "But I'm alright. Where am I? Who are you?"
"I am Morrigan; you are in the hut belonging to my mother and myself, on the edges of the Korcari Wilds, and your companions are outside," said Morrigan with a shrug. "You and the glum one, Draco were badly injured on top of the Tower. My mother rescued you in the form of a giant bird and brought you back here. However, the mage you were with is dead and currently acting as a light meal for the spawn. The flea-bitten hound is here too." She added the last part almost as an afterthought. Lysa slowly let it all sink in. She grieved quietly for Wulf, who had seemed a good man. It was obvious that Morrigan and her mother were apostates, living outside the Chantry. Though why they were helping them wasn't entirely obvious. Some of what she had been thinking must have shown on her face for Morrigan snorted and spoke again; "Your friends came here just over two months ago, searching for Darkspawn blood for the Joining. They came with two others, a knight and a cutpurse, who if I am correct died in the Joining that Draco partook in. 'Tis a shame, really," she finished sarcastically before folding her arms and staring at her. "They also came here looking for the old treaties of the Warden's; ancient documents which mean that the Dalish, Dwarves and Magi have to help them."
"What of the army?" asked Lysa quietly, though she already knew the answer but dreading confirmation.
"Slaughtered," replied Morrigan calmly. "The man who was to have answered your signal turned tail and fled. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friends…have not taken it well."
Lysa felt light-headed and strangely detached, almost like she was hearing about a story from the Elder, something from legend. Something that didn't really happen.
"That's…that's terrible," she whispered letting her arms fall limp, not caring about her modesty. A hundred thousand…dead. "Were there no survivors?" she asked desperately, pleadingly gazing into Morrigan's eyes.
Morrigan shook her head. "Some few thousand escaped I believe," she said, unfolding her arms. "But most died and are being eaten, and what survivors there are being killed…or dragged underground." She didn't have to say any more. Lysa felt she was going to be sick. Morrigan sighed and gestured to her. "None of your wounds are infected. 'Tis a blessing; you have trouble enough awaiting you without the gangrene. However, mother said not to do too much for the next few days; your ribs are fine, but you came perilously near to having your lungs collapsed. She also said for you to go and speak with her outside when you have recovered," she finished pointing towards the door.
"Thank you for your help Morrigan," said Lysa, pushing herself out of bed. Morrigan looked as if she had never heard those words before. "I…You're welcome? I will stay and make something to eat. Your clothes and equipment are over there," she said and walked over to a pot hanging over the fire.
Lysa quickly drew on her underwear, wincing as the bra stroked the new scar, before pulling on her leggings and tunic. Then she donned her newly repaired armour, making a mental note to thank Morrigan and her mother for that too, and picked up her daggers and bow and quiver. Glancing back at the pale beauty, she exited the house.
The Wilds lay before her, a mosaic of marshes, forests and hills as far as the eye could see. Birds sang in the trees, animals whispered and called in the undergrowth and the sky shone with the light of a new day. But its beauty was lost on Lysa. As she had donned her armour, she had made a promise; she wouldn't stop till the Archdemon was dead and she would do anything to make sure that happened.
Looking ahead she could see Draco and Alistair by a pool which surrounded the house, bar a small strip of land that linked it to the rest of the Wilds. Draco was sitting on a boulder, jutting from a small incline, his sword drawn, the point resting on the stone and his left arm draped over the crossguard. Alistair stood at the water's edge, his arms folded and his head lowered. Beside them was a lean, yet hale woman with long white hair and brilliant golden eyes, dressed in spiked and horned armour, with the torso covered in purple lacquer. Rutger however was far more animated. His great head was battered and scarred, and his ear was still missing, but the huge gap in his side was gone and he ran towards her, barking and yapping like a puppy. She smiled thinly and rubbed his broad head, causing him to yap with glee. The woman turned her head imperiously and grinned widely. "See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden, young men. You need not have been so worried so much." Draco and Alistair looked over at her and both relaxed immensely, though they didn't smile. Lysa understood why. Draco leapt from his rock and brusquely embraced her. She was so shocked she didn't have time to react before he had stepped back and sheathed his sword.
"You…You're alive," said Alistair quietly. She could tell he had been crying. His eyes were red, his nostrils flared and his hands shaky. He laughed and said "I thought you were dead for sure! You were even more badly hurt than Draco."
"That is because the legendary thick skulls of the Cousland's protected him," said Morrigan's mother mildly. Draco turned to her and frowned before snarling darkly.
Lysa frowned at that but turned back to Alistair. "I would be dead, were it not for Morrigan's mother."
Alistair nodded, shakily and his voice dropped even further as he spoke, a few fresh tears coursing down his face. "Duncan, the King…everyone dead. It doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."
"Do not talk about me as if I were not present lad," reprimanded the witch mildly, with a small smirk.
"Sorry," apologised Alistair turning to face her. "I didn't mean…But what do we call you? You never told us your name? And you look…different now."
The apostate chuckled deeply and spread her hands. "The form you saw before is a mask, designed to lull my prey, or inquisitive busybodies, into a false sense of security; this is my real form. Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."
At once Draco started and his hand reached above his shoulder and gripped his Family sword pulling it out and staring at the pommel.
"The Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right-you're a Witch of the Wilds aren't you?"
Flemeth boomed with laughter and nodded, gently taking the sword from Draco's hand and stroking its edge, the grating of metal against metal high-pitched and echoing out over the moors. "What does it matter?" she said lifting the sword up and examining it minutely. "I know a bit of magic and it has served you well has it not?"
She smiled at the blade and handed it back to Draco. "Ask the Cousland lad. Had I not used magic to kill Bann Conobar, then his Captain of the Guard, Captain Sarim Cousland would never have gained the teyrnir. And this boy most certainly, wouldn't be here to help you," she finished, clapping Draco's shoulder.
"You're the son of Bryce Cousland?" asked Lysa in awe, staring at Draco. "Why didn't you say earlier…m'lord?" she asked. Draco stiffened at the honorific and said gently, "Arl Howe butchered my whole family in our castle and took the lands for himself. Duncan helped me escape along with… my sister in law. In exchange I took up the mantle of a Grey Warden," his voice turned dark and distant, as if remembering the attack. "My mother stayed behind to die with my father, who had been mortally wounded in the attack. I kept my identity a secret with Duncan and the King so that Howe would get complacent. Sorry for not telling you," he added sadly.
There was silence for a moment, then; "Howe and his men weren't at the battle," Lysa murmured, looking towards Ostagar in the far distance.
Draco slowly nodded and then stiffened. "He was good friends with Loghain," he said, clenching his fist. "And Loghain…"
Flemeth looked at the three of them with a new respect. "Hmm. A conspiracy?" she said. "It wouldn't be the first time in the last six hundred odd years."
Alistair clenched his teeth and breathed heavily.
"Why did you save us?" asked Draco suddenly, turning back to Flemeth.
Flemeth chuckled, "Well, we cannot have all the Grey Warden's dying at once, can we?" She turned and walked the water edge, watching a small cloud of smoke rising from the west. "Someone must deal with the Darkspawn. It has always been the duty of the Grey Warden's to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"
"The land is hardly united, thanks to Loghain," said Lysa, jabbing a finger to the east, towards Gwaren. Flemeth turned back to them and nodded with a snort of agreement.
"That doesn't make any sense," said Alistair angrily, "Why would he do it?"
"Now that is a good question," said Flemeth sadly, her face more kind, "Men's hearts hold shadows more dark than any twisted creature."
She shrugged, "Perhaps he believes the Blight is an enemy he can outmanoeuvre. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."
"The Archdemon" stated Alistair with finality.
"What exactly is it?" asked Lysa. She hated to seem like an idiot, but it had rarely been discussed around her.
Flemeth surprised her by being the one to answer; "It is said that long ago the Make sent the Old Gods of the ancient Tevinter Imperium to slumber in prisons deep beneath the surface. An Archdemon is an Old God awakened and tainted by Darkspawn. Believe that or not, history says that it is a fearsome, immortal thing. And only fools ignore history."
They were silent as they absorbed this information, before Draco turned back to Flemeth and asked, "Will you help us stop the Blight Flemeth?" Alistair and Lysa looked up hopefully.
"Me? I am just an old woman who lives in the Wilds," she said kindly, walking around them and waving her arms at the Wilds. "I know nothing of Blights or Darkspawn."
Alistair rubbed his head and spoke, "Well, whatever Loghain's insanity, he obviously thinks the Darkspawn are a minor threat. We must warn everyone this isn't the case."
"And who will believe you?" scoffed Flemeth, "Unless you think to convince Loghain of his mistake."
"He just betrayed his King!" exclaimed Alistair, outraged at Flemeth's coldness. "If Arl Eamon knew what he did at Ostagar, he would be the first to call for his execution!"
"Ha!" yelled Draco, startling everyone, except Flemeth, and he was grinning savagely making gestures with his hands as he spoke, "And that's the first sensible idea I've heard in the last twenty four hours! Arl Eamon didn't send his men to battle here, so he still has a sizeable force, maybe a few thousand strong due to the Banns and Freeholders that owe him allegiance. And he was Cailan's uncle."
"Of course," yelled Alistair nodding and looking more confident, "We can head to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"
Lysa nodded strength and conviction returning to her limbs as they spoke. 'There is still hope,' she thought. "What about those treaties Morrigan mentioned?" she asked, suddenly remembering them.
"The Treaties! I'm an idiot for not remembering them sooner," he exclaimed digging around in his pack before pulling out three scrolls contained in silverite cylinders with the seal of the Warden's stamped on them. "We can use these," he whispered in awe, holding the treaties like holy relics. "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, mages, elves and others! They are obligated to help us during a Blight!"
Flemeth burst into laughter clapping her hands and smirking. "I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages and this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else…this sounds like an army to me."
"So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?"
Draco nodded and thumped the Warden crest on his armour, "Isn't that what the Grey Wardens do?"
"Though I doubt it will be that easy," said Lysa, smirking and tightening the straps of her armour in preparation of the long treks ahead.
"Hahahahahaha, when is it ever?" laughed Flemeth, nodding.
Alistair nodded and stowed the scrolls. "It's always been the Grey Wardens who have stood against the Blight. And right now, we're the Grey Wardens."
Flemeth sat down on the boulder vacated by Draco and folded her hands in her lap. "So you are set then? Ready to become Grey Wardens?" she spread her hands and seemed for a moment to imitate the statues of Andraste in the Chantry of Denerim.
"Yes," said Draco Standing forward and sheathing his sword again. He turned and bowed to Flemeth, as did Lysa. "Thank you for everything, Flemeth."
"No, no, thank you; you are the Grey Wardens here, not I," said Flemeth, waving their thanks aside.
"Now," she said leaning back against the grassy knoll behind her, and grinning at the hut as the door opened, "Before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you."
Draco
Draco folded his arms and watched Morrigan approach. He had a sneaky suspicion that he knew what Flemeth was about to offer them. He didn't care what the others thought, he would bring her along. He clenched his teeth and grinned darkly. Things were about to get a whole lot more interesting. Morrigan stood before them and glanced at them before turning to her mother.
"The stew is bubbling, mother dear" she said folding her arms. "Shall we have three guests for the 'eve," she continued, turning and glaring at them, "Or none?"
Draco glanced at Flememth, ignoring the insult, awaiting the words that would surely follow. Sure enough…
"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."
"Such a shame-" Morrigan started, then her eyes widened and she rounded on her mother in a split second. "What?"
"You heard me girl," said Flemeth standing up from the rock and grinning like a demon. "The last time I looked you had ears," she laughed before walking towards the hut. Morrigan glanced between Flemeth and the Wardens before running after her mother, her skirt billowing out behind her.
"Mother what possesses you to say these things?" she hissed as Flemeth opened the door and came out again bearing a large map in her hands and walked back to the Wardens, Morrigan hurrying after her.
"I think it's an excellent idea," aid Draco, smirking and taking the map. Alistair and Lysa looked at him almost as if he had grown a second head.
Morrigan spluttered and glared venomously at them. "Have I no say in this?" she yelled, jabbing a finger at her mother.
Flemeth turned back to her and smiled faintly. "You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years; here is your chance." She turned back to the Wardens and her face shifted into a scowl, gazing hypnotically into their eyes. "As for you Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
Draco nodded and saw the shifts in stances of Lysa; she accepted this deal. They had little choice and they needed all the help they could find.
"Very well," said Draco, bowing, "We will do as you ask." Lysa nodded in agreement.
Alistair tapped him on the shoulder and leant forward to whisper, loudly, in his ear. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth…but won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."
Draco and Lysa huffed quietly at his naivety and Flemeth scoffed and replied, "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages young man, perhaps I should have left you atop that tower?"
Alistair gulped and muttered, "Point…taken."
"Mother," implored Morrigan, worry evident in her voice, despite the stoic façade on her face. "This is not how I wanted this. I-I'm not even ready."
The Witch turned to her daughter and stroked her cheek gently, startling the Wardens with this gesture of love. "You must be ready Morrigan; alone these four Wardens must unite Fereldan against the darkspawn. They need you Morrigan. Without you they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."
Draco saw Alistair stiffen at the words, but he wasn't offended. None of them had even a year's worth of experience as a Warden and they would need magic to help them.
"I…understand," murmured Morrigan stiffly, surrendering.
Flemeth turned to them and her voice hardened and her eyes narrowed. "And you Grey Wardens, do you understand. I give to you that which I value most in this world," she gestured to Morrigan and concluded, "I do this because you must succeed."
Draco nodded and Lysa said, "She won't come to harm with us." Flemeth nodded in satisfaction, while Morrigan gave them a withering look.
"Allow me to get my things, if you please," she sighed and marched back to the hut.
Draco felt Alistair glaring daggers at his back. He ignored the Templar and shrugged his shoulders and ground his teeth. The man would have to get used to the way he worked.
Morrigan came out a few minutes later, a satchel dangling at her side and a small pack on her back. Her staff was festooned with totems and fetishes and glowed dully in the sunlight. Draco felt an electric pulse racing through the air as she approached. Doubtless, this staff was one of the strongest in Fereldan, if her mother was Flemeth. Sure enough as she stopped before him, he saw the dull red and black of a dragonbone staff. He ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. This was real magic; untamed and true.
"I am at your disposal," she said, gripping her staff and leaning nonchalantly upon it her lips quirked upwards at the corners in a sarcastic smile, "Grey Wardens. There is a village to the north, a few days march from here, which I suggest as our destination. It has much of what you need there. Or if you prefer, I can merely be your silent guide, the choice is yours." The last bit dripped with so much sarcasm that Draco wanted to burst out laughing and the expression on Alistairs face was priceless; he looked like he was going to say that she looked like she would be as silent as a Chantry mother.
"We would rather you spoke your mind," said Lysa, smiling and glancing at Alistair who was looking more befuddled by the minute.
Flemeth let lose a great booming chuckle. "You will regret saying that soon enough!"
Morrigan turned and glared at her mother, grinding her teeth. "Dear sweet mother," she said, her voice pulsating with sarcasm and venom, "You are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment."
Flemeth laughed and shrugged. "I always said 'If you want something done, do it yourself', or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards."
Alistair coughed impolitely and waved a hand at the two apostates, "I just…Do you really want to take her along just because her mother says so?"
"Oh, get over yourself, Alistair," grunted Draco.
Lysa sighed and said placating, "We need all the help we can get Alistair."
Alistair grunted and rubbed the back of his head. "I suppose you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."
Morrigan grinned broadly. "I am so pleased to have your approval."
Draco smirked darkly. "May I ask a question?" asked Lysa.
Morrigan shrugged. "You just did, but I may answer others."
Lysa nodded and waved at the staff. "What skills do you have?"
Morrigan smirked alarmingly. It made her look like a Hurlock. "I now some spells, though I am not as powerful as mother. I have also studied history and your Grey Warden treaties."
"Can you cook?" asked Alistair brightly. Draco let out a long-suffering sigh.
"I…can…cook, yes," Morrigan replied, looking at Alistair as if he was something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
"Never mind him," said Lysa, glaring daggers at Alistair, "You don't have to cook."
"You missed your chance; you're now stuck with charred rabbit from here on out."
Draco pinned Alistair under one of the most withering gazes in history. "If you're that worried I'll cook."
"Oh joy," muttered Alistair glancing at Morrigan and Lysa. "The psychotic Berserker has taken over cooking duties. Five sovereigns we'll end up eating orphans."
"Or you." The tone in Draco's voice could have butchered a legion of Darkspawn.
"Now there's an idea," muttered Morrigan in approval. Alistair looked like Draco had really just served him a child roasted with apple sauce.
Draco grinned. It was a wide rictus, filled with teeth that suddenly seemed to have been filed into razor points. He turned and bowed one last time to Flemeth, before whistling at Rutger. The hound barked and ran over to him and began to lick his gauntleted hand.
"Thank you Flemeth," said Lysa with an incline of the head.
"Farewell, mother," Morrigan turned to Flemeth and smirked, "Do not forget the stew on the fire; I would hate to return to a burned out hut."
Flemeth scoffed. "'Tis far more likely you will return here, to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight!"
The Wardens were once again surprised by how Morrigan responded. Her lips quivered, her eyes lowered and she whispered, "I…all I meant was…"
Flemeth smiled kindly, "Yes, I know. Do try to have fun dear."
Without another word she turned and walked into the hut. Hefting their packs, the four companions hiked into the Wilds, the mabari striding beside them. Morrigan looked back once and sighed. Then the forest swallowed them.
Denerim
Anora gazed intently at her father's back, carefully watching his every move. He had arrived back in Denerim the day before yesterday with his entire contingent of twenty thousand men. However, upon his arrival, rather than the good news everyone had hoped for he had brought news that had caused panic to run like a plague through the city. She had been confined to her rooms by a healer due to the shock of it; she had broken down in hysterics and had become completely incoherent. Her father had asked her to come with him to the meeting in the Throne Hall, despite the fact that anyone who looked at her could see the glazed stare and hear the distance in her voice.
She dragged herself back from the brink in time to hear her father's next words, "…And I expect you to supply these men. We must rebuild what was lost at Ostagar and quickly. There are those who would take advantage of our weakened state I we let them." Something in his voice suddenly struck at Anora; hate, a hate generally reserved for the…Orlesians. Her gaze sharpened on his back. Was he so paranoid still?
"We must defeat this darkspawn incursion, but we must do sensibly, and without hesitation." Once again, Anora felt a twinge of doubt. Her father talked of the advancing horde as if it was a minor threat. However, she had spoken to Duncan when he had held a meeting with Cailan and her father. The way he spoke, the way his eyes were veiled by shadow…and why then, the need for Wardens? She had heard that the youngest Cousland, Draco, had been recruited not long after the fall of Castle Cousland. Not only that, but her husband's brother, Alistair, and a skilled elven rogue from the Alienage in Denerim. Why would he recruit so many young people if it wasn't a true Blight? However, the thing she had most trouble with was her father's claim that the Warden's had betrayed Cailan for…What?
"Your lordship, may I speak?" She turned back to see Bann Teagan stepping forward from the crowd of nobles. He was wearing heavy veridium armour and bearing arms ready for battle. It was common knowledge that Teagan and her father had never gotten on well, so it was surprising that he was speaking so politely.
Loghain raised a hand in approval and Teagan folded his arms, his dark eyes staring hard at Loghain.
"You have declared yourself Queen Anora's Regent, and claim that we must unite under your banner for our own good." He unfolded his arms, and his voice took on a hard brittle quality. "But what of the army lost at Ostagar? Your withdrawal seems most…fortuitous."
Shocked and scandalised gasps filled the hall, the nobles stunned at Teagan's blatant disregard of Loghain. Loghain's eyes hardened and he stepped forward and slammed his fist against the wooden railing. "Everything I have done has been to secure Fereldan's independence. I have not shirked my duty to the Throne," he drew himself up, and pointed a gauntleted finger around the hall, lingering on everyone, accusing them. "And neither will any of you!"
"What of the Grey Wardens?" called out Arl Bryland. The accusations against the Grey Wardens had deeply rankled him, especially as he had a nephew among their ranks at Ostagar. Anora glanced at her father again and was troubled by the odd look in his eyes. "You say they betrayed the King. Maybe they did, maybe they didn't. But if it is true, do you seriously expect me to believe that all of them were? My nephew and the Cousland lad, traitors? Impossible!" Bryland jabbed a finger at several other nobles. "We all have a forefather, or a loved one in the order. Do you mean to tell me that they all betrayed the King, and so soon after their return?"
Loghain folded his arms and nodded his head. "I do not claim they all turned their back, but enough of them; enough to kill your King! And now you complain because I ask for your aid!"
"The Bannorn will not bow to you simply because you demand it!" spat Teagan. Murmurs were turning to cries of alarm.
"Understand this, Bann Teagan," hissed Loghain, his voice as dark as a thunderstorm. "I will brook no threat to this nation. From you or anyone." His gauntleted finger lingered on Teagan last of all. Loghain stormed out, his long white cloak billowing out behind him like a spectral mist. Ser Cauthrien and another guard marched after him. The nobles, free from Loghains dark gaze spoke freely now, murmuring for and against Loghain; they split into groups and began to mutter this way and that, some openly muttering that Loghain was mad, others that they needed Loghain's brilliance for victory. The pro-Warden faction however were all leaving without another word, and among them Anora spied Bann Teagan.
"Bann Teagan!" she cried out. No-one took the high pitched voice amiss, but Teagan stopped and turned back. "Please…" she implored.
"Your Majesty, your father risks civil war," he said, gesturing after Loghain. "If Eamon were here…"
Anora didn't respond for a moment. She felt a dark fear unfurling and settling in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes to hide the despair, then opening them, pulled her face back into the mask of the Queen. "My father is doing what is best."
Teagan turned away and called back as he stalked off, "Did he also do what was best for your husband, Your Majesty?"
Anora stood a still as a statue. She stayed still until no-one was left in the hall a full ten minutes later. Then, a single tear crawled down her face.
The Imperial Highway
Lysa tried counting every tree they passed. Morrigan tried shutting him up. Alistair tried telling jokes. Draco sang in the Theden'gamote. It wasn't that he was a bad singer, and the language sounded pleasant, like a whisper in the trees, or a "screaming templar" as Morrigan had said. Alistair had glared at her at that and had sidled over to Draco's other side. But Rutger still whined and yapped. "'Tis a miracle," ground out Morrigan through clenched teeth, "that there are no spawn to here this infernal racket."
Draco sighed and carried on singing, "Le'den gur, thoren mur das gerteld morr vass Mendethíl-"
(TRANSLATION: Calm thy crying child, the wind is in the east)
"Is it mating season?" asked Alistair.
Morrigan sent him a withering gaze. "I am certain that the hound would turn you down; even he has better taste than to rut with you."
Draco stopped singing and smiled while Lysa laughed. Alistair garbled for a moment then said, trying to stop himself from tripping over his tongue, "If it's mating season then he's naturally… pent up."
Draco paused and suddenly began rubbing at his temple. "Alistair, do you feel…?"
Alsiatir stopped and looked about him, suddenly drawing his sword. "Maybe."
Lysa felt a sudden coldness up ahead. It felt like what she had felt during Ostagar, atop the bridge.
"Oh, what now," asked the witch snidely, raising her staff. "I am on tenterhooks. Do pray tell."
"Spawn," muttered Lysa, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow to the string and dropping to one knee.
There came a rustling from the leaves on the east side of the path. Lysa followed the movement with her eyes, drawing back the arrow, ready to shoot when-
A lithe, thin mabari bitch leapt from the bushes. Her fur was ashen grey and she had traces of red kaddis on her head and flanks, shaped to follow her bones. She looked at them with bright eyes and trotted to Lysa. Draco pursed his lips, and then looked at Rutger. "Don't even think about it."
Rutger barked innocently. Lysa wet her lips and lowered her bow. She reached out tentatively towards the hounds head and slowly stroked the broad head. She yipped in pleasure and liked her hand. Lysa giggled and turned back to Draco and Alistair. "She must be what you sensed; she must have escaped the battle; I think she's one of the hounds we rescued from the tower."
Morrigan looked at the dog with an odd respect. "So she escaped the spawn and traipsed all the way here from Ostagar? A most stubborn bitch. That was meant affectionately you mongrel," she spat at the hound in question as she snarled at her. "Still she might be useful."
Draco coughed politely. "We have company."
They looked ahead. A good dozen Hurlocks blocked the path.
Instantly, the hounds charged forward, dragging down two spawn in moments. Draco and Alistair rushed forward and engaged one apiece; Alistair braining his opponent with his shield and Draco disarming his opponent (literally) before chopping it in two. Lysa shot the Alpha down, piercing its lung, while Morrigan stood still. Casually, the witch raised her staff and murmured a few words, her staff and hands glowing a deep, earthy green. From the earth under the feet of the Darkspawn sprung dozens of thorny roots, each a few inches wide. They rose from the grass and dirt, before wrapping around the creatures, pinning them in place. Morrigan laughed sadistically and clenched her left fist. The roots suddenly clenched and the creatures were crushed in the roots, blood and organs exploding everywhere. The Wardens stared at Morrigan in awe. "That was fucking awesome," exclaimed Draco, Lysa nodding enthusiastically. "But unnecessarily gruesome," added Alistair, staring at the corpses.
Morrigan smirked and looked at the hounds. "The grey must have been running from them. Smart dog; she found us."
The bitch yelped happily and wagged her tail.
"The darkspawn didn't hurt you did they?" asked Lysa, rubbing the grey's head. She yelped appreciatively and licked her fingers.
"I think she was searching for you," said Alistair rubbing his jaw. "She's…chosen you."
Draco laughed. "Oh, if only a few nobles were here to see this! A mabari imprinting an elf! They'd die of shock!"
"So we have two mangydogs following us around? Wonderfull," muttered Morrigan.
"She's not mangy," said Alistair in a childish goo-goo voice.
"Though she does need a bath," said Draco.
"I always wanted a pet," said Lysa, kissing the hound's nose. "I think it's meant to be."
"You have to name her," said Draco smiling down at her.
Lysa thought for a moment. "Dame."
Dame barked in approval.
"I have no reason to object to their presence," said Morrigan glancing at the hounds as they walked on, "But if they start rutting in front of me…"
Lothering
Draco rubbed at the week's worth of stubble at his chin as he examined the town from the bridge. It was a small town, maybe a few hundred souls, and in fact was more of a village. However, the large chantry and the gleam of bright steel plate showed the importance of the village. He yawned and looked back at the others. The first thing he would do, he decided as they trudged on, would find a razor and cut of this damn beard. After the ambush where they had found Dame nothing serious had happened. They had managed to slip unmolested past the main bulk of the horde and had met no-one on their journey, heading north or south. It worried him. Suddenly he clapped his hand to his head and groaned. He had forgotten Oriana. Loghain knew who he was and would quickly identify Oriana. He clenched his fist and ground his teeth. He would have to speak to the others about it.
They marched down the road, all silent and engaged in their own thoughts. Alistair walked at the front, gazing at his feet, while Lysa and Morrigan brought up the rear. Draco looked past Alistair, spotting the bridge that led off into Lothering. However, in their way were a dozen or so men dressed in light armour and bearing weapons.
Draco tapped Alistair's shoulder and nodded ahead. Alistair looked up and they came to a halt a few metres from the men. Behind them were several carts and wagons, all thrown on their sides. A few corpses littered the road, with dried pools of blood covering several flagstones. The leader, a lanky fellow with greasy black hair, stepped forward with a smug grin. "Wake up gentlemen; there's more travellers to attend to!"
His lieutenant, a bald man with a rounded face aand watery eyes, looked at the companions, and blanched. "Er, boss…this lot don't look like the others. Uh…Perhaps we oughta let em pass."
"Nonsense," laughed the leader. "Greetings travellers. Please wait here; this is the toll station. Price is ten silvers."
"Highwaymen," muttered Alistair in exasperation.
"Let's just kill them and be done," said Morrigan casually.
"Now, now," said the bandit leader mildly, "No need for any violence. I take it you are the leader," he added, pointing at Draco, "Ten silvers to pass the toll."
Draco sighed and brushed the hair out of his eyes, staring the man straight into his eyes. "You should listen to your friend," he said, "We aren't refugees."
"I told you," said the lieutenant, gazing, fearfully at them. "We should let this lot pass."
"The tax isn't just for refugees, you know" said the leader, smiling at his lieutenant. "Everyone must pay."
"Oh right," said the lieutenant, smiling stupidly at the group again. "You gotta pay it, even if you ain't no refugee."
Lysa stepped forward and hissed, "Take a good look at us; we're Grey Wardens. Still want to fuck with us?"
The highwaymen, suddenly stiffened and grinned. "Grey Wardens, huh," said the leader, nonchalantly stroking his chin. "There's a price on your heads you know? Bad move of yours, betraying the king like that."
Draco, Lysa and Alistair all stiffened in shock. Draco ground his teeth. Loghain. The bastard worked fast, he'd give him that. "So, we take your coin, then your heads, and then we take Loghain's coin," said the leader drawing his axe and dagger. "Well, we might take something else from these pretties first," he added, leering at Morrigan and Lysa.
Draco said nothing, but snapped his fingers, and pointed at the leader. Rutger shot past him like a bolt of lightning, bowling the man to the ground and biting and clawing him in a fury. Lysa clicked her fingers as well, jabbing a finger at the lieutenant. Dame streaked forward and, knocking him over, turned and crushed his skull between her jaws. In death, he looked very surprised. The others were easily dealt with; Morrigan froze the majority of them while Alistair and Draco cut down the rest. Rutger still had the leader pinned under him. Draco walked over and whistled at Rutger, who promptly leapt off him. The man, covered in dozens of lacerations, stared in horror at the party.
"I surrender!" he screamed, raising his hands in supplication. The smell of urine filled the air. Draco wrinkled hi s nose in disgust. "Your purse, and everything else you stole," he commanded, holding out a hand. The man quickly dropped a large heavy coin purse, and a key to a lockbox, which he pointed to, hidden amongst the wagons. Draco glared at him, wondering what to do with him. Eventually, he nodded to Lysa. She drew back her bow and fired. The arrow went clean through his right temple, and out the other side, embedding itself in the wood of an upturned wagon. Draco tore the arrow free and tossed it back to her. They quickly looted the corpses of any money and respectfully pulled the body of their latest victim, a knight, to the side of the road and laid him out as if part of a funeral procession. Lysa pocketed the knights will and locket, explaining that they should find the one the will spoke of.
Draco picked up the lockbox and hefting it over his shoulder, led the way down the road and of to the side. There stood Lothering. It was a small town, barely a large village. A hundred people or so might live there and that must have been it. A windmill dominated the town centre, beside which stood a small house, but loving built from pine and stone, with a large sign painted on the front; a hawk. The chantry stood in the south east of the town, surrounded by a small refugee camp. They could just make out the glimmer of templar steel.
"Well, there it is; Lothering," said Alistair quietly, "Pretty as a painting." Draco placed the lockbox on the floor for a moment.
Morrigan glanced at Alistair and smirked. "Ah. Finally decided to rejoin the living again? Falling on your sword in grief seemed like too much trouble no doubt."
Alistair turned to glower at her. "Is my being upset so hard to understand? Have you ever lost anyone important to you?" He missed the uncomfortable shuffle of Lysa and Draco. "How would you react if you're mother died?"
Morrigan grinned. "Before or after I stopped laughing?"
Alistair blinked. "Right, very creepy. Forget I asked."
"You have been awfully quiet, Alistair," put in Lysa, struggling not to laugh.
"I was just thinking-"
"No wonder it took so long."
"Oh I get it," said Alistair raising his hands in mock surprise. "This is the part where we're shocked to discover that you've never had a friend your entire life."
Morrigan smirked. "I can be friendly when I desire to. Alas, being more intelligent does not make it so."
Draco and Lysa coughed violently, behind their hands.
"Anyway," said Alistair, turning to the others, ignoring Morrigan. "I was thinking we ought to talk about where we are going to go first."
Draco sighed glumly. "We should get the treaties fulfilled as soon as possible," he said nodding to Alistair's pack.
"Flemeth's suggestion is the best idea, I think," said Alistair nodding. "Lysa, me and Draco have looked at the Treaties; do you want a look."
Lysa blushed angrily. Alistair looked around in terror. "What did I say?" he asked in fright.
"I grew up in the Alienage, dunce," muttered Lysa. "I can't read or write."
Alistair garbled in embarrassment. Draco glared at them. "Anyway," he said, determined to get the conversation back on track, "We should think about where to go."
"There are three main groups we can ask assistance from," continued Alistair, backing away from Lysa. "The Circle of Magi, the Dalish elves and the dwarves of Orzammar. I still also think that Arl Eamon is our best bet for help. We might even want to go to him first."
Lysa and Draco glanced at each other. "Why are you leaving it up to us?" asked Lysa curiously.
"You are the senior Warden," added Draco.
Alistair frowned in thought. "Well, let's see…if we all follow me, we'll all end up in a cheese shop somewhere in Orlais in a fortnight, surrounded by Chevaliers and angry peasant mobs armed with pitchforks…and comfy cushions. I have a terrible sense of direction and an appalling sense of judgement."
The others laughed, which made Alistair pout, even more so when the dogs started to bark in what sounded like mirth as well.
"Well that is unsurprising," said Morrigan.
Alistair growled and crossed his arms, "Well, I don't know where to go! Arl Eamon is a good man, but I don't know I we should go to him first. I'm not going to fight about it."
Lysa was silent, contemplating something. Wondering what was worrying her Draco asked, "Something wrong Lysa?"
Lysa turned to him and smiled wanly. "I think you should take charge Draco."
Draco blinked in surprise. "You know Fereldan politics, you know how to fight and you've seen a hell of a lot more of Fereldan than me; I haven't left Denerim before I was recruited. Shit," she said ruefully, rubbing her head. "I don't know where Redcliffe is, much less Orzammar."
Draco sighed in defeat. He knew it shouldn't have surprised him. I've got more fighting experience then them and know more about the politics of this place. What worried him was the fact that he had never been trained to lead; his brother had had that privilege. He had been trained to follow orders and to fight. Not that I ever learned the former, he thought grimly.
"Fine," he said gruffly. "I'll take command."
Alistair and Lysa let out sighs of relief.
"We need to find these people," said Lysa.
"Orzammar's main entrance is in the Frostback Mountains, in the northwest of Fereldan," said Draco shrugging.
They all looked at him in surprise. He sighed. "That's where I learned my Berserker skills. My family sent me there… to be squired as part of this program to bolster Fereldan's relationship with the dwarves." He wouldn't tell them the truth about why he was sent there; not yet.
"The Dalish will be in the Brecillian Forest," Alistair added. "That's to the east. The Circle is on the northeast edge of Lake Calenhad to the west. Redcliffe is built at the far southern edge of the lake as well."
Draco was silent for a few minutes, considering the next move. "Morrigan, what do you suggest?" he asked, glancing up at her.
Morrigan shrugged. "Attack this Loghain directly. Deal with him and the recruitment of this army will be the easier."
"Oh, yes," said Alistair sarcastically, "It's not like he has the advantage of an army and tactical brilliance on his side is it?"
Morrigan gave him a withering glare. "I was asked for my opinion and I gave it."
Lysa turned to Draco. "Well?"
Draco sighed and rubbed his head. He honestly had no idea what to do; Orzammar would eat his friends and spit out the bones, the Dalish wouldn't be too happy to see three humans and he didn't know where they were, and the Circle had its own problems with the Templars.
But I've got to do this, and I might as well do it my way. He straightened up and nodded brusquely. "We'll decide once we've got what we need from here."
Morrigan nodded and twirled her hands, humming a tune while Lysa smiled and inclined her head. Alistair bent down and picked up the lockbox and they moved off.
They came across a merchant selling his wares at six times there worth to the townspeople. A Sister was currently trying to awaken his humanity, but so far was failing. Angry at the man's greed Draco stalked over and spoke, "What's going on, Sister?"
"This man is making the people pay extortionate prices for his wares; he's making beggars of them!" she cried, gesturing at the crowd.
The merchant scoffed and turned to Draco, but before he could speak, Draco cut him off, razing his hand and saying "Lower you prices. Make a profit, but don't beggar the needy; they outnumber you by a dozen and can always claim your goods another way."
The man paled and stared at the crowd of people, before bobbing his head. Draco dropped a few silvers in his hand and picked up a small bag of healing potions.
As they walked off, Alistair and Lysa nodded approvingly, while Morrigan scoffed darkly. The Sister stepped forward and said, "Thank you, my child. The world needs more people like you."
Draco nodded. "Is there someone in charge around here?" he asked. "Ser Bryant is the leader of the Templars here," said the Sister shrugging. "Could you give him this?" asked Draco, gesturing to the lockbox. "It contains all the stolen goods the bandits took."
The Sister broke into a wide smile. "I take it there are gone?"
Draco hesitated. "In a manner of speaking."
The Sister got the message. She took the lockbox and bowing left. They walked through the town, stopping now and then to help the people and completing a few of the requests from the chantry board. After finishing the last quest they walked into the chantry, hoping to find some news. Inside were a good score of people, a few of whom were Templars. Morrigan eyed them suspiciously.
Draco approached the leader, and asked, "Ser Bryant?"
The tired knight looked at him curiously. "Yes. How may I help you? Wait, are you the one who killed the bandits on the road?"
Draco nodded. Bryant grinned. "Thank the Maker. I've had enough trouble from those bastards. Glad they got what they deserved. Here," he said, passing Draco a small purse. "You earned it."
"Is there any news you can tell us?" asked Lysa.
"Apart from the death of the king and some eighty thousand men and the Grey Wardens being branded as traitors and Loghain being named regent, no not really. But judging from your armour and weapons you already knew that."
Draco nodded darkly. "We did not betray the king."
"Doubtless," said the Templar honestly, "But keep your title quiet while you are here; it'll make things much easier." They nodded and walked off, towards a knight bearing the symbol of Redcliffe on his shield.
The knight turned to look at them and frowned. "who…?"
"Ser Donnal?" asked Alistair incredulously. "Is that you?"
"Alistair?" Donnal grinned. "By the Maker, how are you? I was certain you were dead!"
"Not yet, no thanks to Teyrn Loghain."
"Yes; I heard he attainted the Wardens. All of them, bar one or two who managed to flee to Orlais or the Free Marches. If Arl Eamon were well, that order would never have been passed."
Draco felt a bucketful of ice cascade into his stomach. "Were well? Is he ill?"
Donnal nodded grimly. "A wasting illness. He has been in a coma for the last few weeks. We were sent out by the Arlessa to search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes to cure him. Insane, I know," he sighed at their incredulous looks, "But every healer and mage has failed to cure him. Desperate times calls for desperate measures. The Urn is said to be able to heal any malady or disease." He looked down and sighed sadly, "But I have found nothing. Nothing but traps, bones and dead ends. If such a thing exists it is well hidden."
"One of your fellows lies on the road," said Lysa handing him the locket and note.
Donnal sighed sadly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "So Henric is dead too. I wonder how many died on this fool quest. Thank you for giving me these. I should return to Redcliffe. I will inform the Arlessa and the knights of your survival and the truth of the battle. Makers Grace be on you all."
He passed them a gold piece and left, walking slowly towards the door. After he left, they stood about gazing at one another. Lysa shook her head. "If Eamon is ill we can't call for Loghains dismissal. This makes things a lot harder."
Morrigan snorted. "If all they can think to do is find the ashes of a long dead madwoman, 'tis unlikely that the man will be healed."
Draco nodded glumly. "Let's go to the tavern; there might be more news there."
"If not we can still drown our sorrows," muttered Alistair.
The tavern was called Dane's Refuge. It was small, but well lit and strongly built. Two dozen people filled the building. As they walked towards the bar, four men stepped forward.
Lysa
The men bore the symbol of the Teyrnir of Gwaren on their shields and armour. Lysa instinctively gripped one of the hidden daggers hanging on her belt. Draco's arms hung loosely by his side, but his hands were curled like talons ready for the onslaught. Morrigan and Alistair also dropped into their battle stances.
"Well, well, well, look what we have here then," said the leader, folding his arms and smiling grimly. "I think we've just been blessed."
"We'll see if you say the same in a matter of moments," muttered Morrigan darkly.
"Uh oh," said Alistair. The dogs began to snarl.
One of the soldiers turned to the Commander. "Didn't we spend all morning asking about a man and an elf by these very descriptions?" he asked rhetorically, gesturing to her and Draco. "And everyone said that they hadn't seen one."
"Seems we were lied to."
Lysa gripped her dagger, ready to fight when-
She approached. A Chantry Sister, dressed in the robes of red and gold. Her short hair was well kept and the colour of fire. Her eyes were china blue and sparkled in the firelight. Her skin was pale and clear, her lips were full and red, and when she walked she seemed to glide. Lysa felt her mouth dry and her heart skip a beat. She's beautiful, she thought in awe.
"Gentlemen, please," she spoke quietly, with a distinct Orlesian accent. "Surely there is no need for trouble? These are no doubt simply more poor souls seeking refuge."
Lysa could have listened to that voice all day, watching those soft lips moving like butterflies dancing on the wind.
"They're more than that. Now stay out of this, Sister. You protect these traitors you get the same as them," the man spat harshly, gripping his maul.
Lysa dragged her eyes from the Sister, just as Draco said, "Stand back Sister; things are about to hit the roof."
"Kill the Sister and anyone who tries to stop you," spat the Commander, drawing his maul.
"Right. Let's make this quick!" cried one of his men.
Draco didn't draw his swords. Instead, he threw a few silvers to the barkeep and grabbed the Commander by the neck. Getting him in a headlock under his arm, he grabbed a bottle of ale, took a swig from it, then smashed over the mans head. The man swooned and then screamed as Draco shoved a candle to the alcohol on his hair. As he burned, Draco grabbed him and dunked him in a barrel of water, holding him under the water. Lysa, following Draco's lead let go of her knife and began punching another soldier rapidly in the gut, her Grey Warden strength overwhelming the man, pushing him back and tripping him over a table. She grabbed a small bottle of wine and drank it all down, running the back of a hand over her mouth once she was done, then she smashed down on the mans head. Alistair and the rest of the tavern were blinking in surprise, while Morrigan watched with interest, drinking wine from a small glass. The Sister, taking the bizarre fight in her stride, drew her dagger and disarmed the last two soldiers gracefully, moving like a swan, swerving left and right before clubbing them down with the pommel of the dagger. Draco was whistling as he held the struggling Commander down, lifting him up every now and then so that he could breath. Eventually, once all the soldiers had been dealt with, Draco hefted the man up and through him to the floor with a wet splat. He coughed violently and Draco stood, towering above him. Eventually, the man staggered to his feet and stared at them in surprised horror and fear.
"All right! You win! We cough cough surrender!" he yelled raising his hands in supplication.
The Sister smiled brightly at her. "Good. They've learnt their lesson and we can stop fighting now."
Lysa glanced over at Draco who was starring down at the men. "Draco…don't," Lysa pleaded. She was so tired of fighting. It would be nice to stop for a little while. Draco let out a long, rattling hiss.
"Take a message to Loghain," he spat. "Tell him the Wardens know what really happened."
The men relaxed and the Commander garbled out, "I'll tell him. Thank you!"
They all but ran from the tavern. Morrigan slowly clapped and said, "Most amusing."
The barkeep cleared his throat nervously. "About the money," he said to Draco, "You paid me too much for the damage and the drinks."
Morrigan took the money with a grin.
Lysa watched the Sister under her eyelashes shyly, watching her every movement. She licked her lips as she approached them, smiling sweetly.
"I apologise for interfering, but I couldn't just stand by and not help." Morrigan scoffed at her words.
"We appreciate what you tried to do," Lysa muttered abashed and rubbing her head as the rest of the tavern returned to their business, the brawl ended.
"I am glad you found it in your hearts to show mercy. Allow me to introduce myself," she said curtsying, "I am Leliana, Lay Sister of the Chantry of Lothering. Or I was."
Lysa smiled at her. "I am Lysa. This is Draco, Morrigan, Alistair, Dame and Rutger."
"They said you were Grey Wardens. I am surprised one of you is an elf, but," she noticed the stung look on Lysa's face and the way her companions stiffened, "The elves must want the Blight defeated as much as humans, no? I know after what happened you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."
Lysa felt a sudden surge of happiness that the woman would be coming with them, but the others glanced at each other in confusion.
"You have skill with a blade," said Draco. Alistair stared at him in shock, and Lysa carried on, saying, "We need all the help we can get too."
Leliana grinned smugly. "That and the Maker wants me to go with you."
They all blinked. Alistair made an odd noise in the back of his throat. Morrian made a quiet comment on lunacy.
"Can you…elaborate?" asked Draco, his eyebrows raised.
Leliana shook her head sadly and stammered, "I-I know that sounds…absolutely insane but it's true. I had a dream…a vision."
"More crazy," said Alistair. "I thought we were all full up."
"Look at the people here," implored Leliana desperately, gazing at Lysa. "They are lost in their despair…And this darkness, this chaos, will spread…The Maker doesn't want that! What you do…what you are meant to do, it is the Makers work. Let me help!"
Lysa turned to Draco and whispered, "She wants to do the right thing. Please…"
Draco looked at her, and she saw a knowing gleam deep in his eyes. He suddenly smiled and turned to Leliana. "Welcome to the family."
Morrigan stared at Draco and Lysa in horror. "Perhaps your skulls were more badly damaged than mother thought."
Lysa blushed even deeper when Leliana gave a heart breaking smile. "Thank you for giving me this chance. I will not let you down!"
Draco gestured at her robes, "If you're coming with us you better get some armour. Here," he said tossing her a bundle of leather armour from his pack.
"I'll go to my room and change." As she moved off, Lysa had to make a conscious effort not to follow her. She returned a few minutes later. The leather armour hugged her form closely and over her back was strung a longbow, while her dagger hung at her hip. She nodded at them and at Draco's gentle words, they left.
As they left the borders of the town, Lysa started at a deep rumbling voice to her left on the western side of the path. It was the cage they had passed earlier on their quests, but had assumed to be empty. In it sat a gigantic figure, bent over like a hunchback in order to sit down. He spoke in a deep melodious language, sounding like poetry murmured in empty halls.
Lysa turned to the cage and, curiously, approached. The figure looked up at her suddenly as she stood before it, pinning her under amethyst eyes. It stood up, quick as snake, and looked down on her. She stared up in awe. Draco was very tall, standing at about six foot two, while Alistair was five foot and eleven inches as was Morrigan and Leliana stood at five foot ten and she at five foot three. But this man, for man it was…He dwarfed Draco by easily a foot. He had long white hair drawn back in six queues into a star like bun behind his head and his bronze skin made him look like a statue of metal. He looked down at her, then said gruffly, "You are not one of my captors. I have nothing to say to you, elf. Leave me in peace."
Insulted by the words, Lysa straightened her back and glared straight into his eyes. "You're a prisoner? Who put you here?"
The man sighed in exasperation. "I am in a cage am I not? I've been placed here by your Chantry."
He straightened his back still further. "I am Sten, of the Beresaad. The Vanguard of the qunari peoples."
"I am Draco," said Draco, stepping forward and bowing his head to Sten. "These are my companions; Leliana, Lysa, Alistair, Morrigan and the hounds Dame and Rutger."
"You mock me. Or you show manners which I have not come to expect in your lands," the qunari said mildly.
"Though it matters little. I will die soon enough."
Morrigan pulled on Draco's arm and said, gesturing to the qunari, "This is a proud and magnificent creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot find a use for him I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone." Leliana nodded in agreement.
"Mercy? I never would have expected that from you," exclaimed Alistair.
"I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage."
Draco and Lysa laughed at Alistair's expression. Leliana looked nonplussed.
"Yes, that's what I would have expected."
Sten spoke again. "I would suggest that you leave me to my fate."
"I find myself in need of skilled help," said Draco stepping forward, closer to the giant.
"No doubt," replied the giant, without a trace of sarcasm. "What help do you want?"
"I and Alistair and Lysa are sworn to protect the land against the Blight."
The qunari's eyes sharpened sharply on Draco, his gaze unflinching. "The Blight? You are Grey Wardens then?"
"Yes."
The giant slowly rotated his gaze across the three of them. "Surprising. My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens strength and skill…though I suppose not every legend can be true."
Draco laughed at the giants words. Lysa smiled grimly and Alistair looked affronted.
"Would the revered mother let you go?"
"Perhaps, if you were to say that the Grey Wardens need my assistance. It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here."
Draco nodded. "We will return shortly."
Sten said nothing but folded his arms and watched them leave.
Lysa turned to Draco and asked, "Did you see his arms!"
Draco nodded. "He's a great swordsman if his arms speak true."
Alistair cleared his throat loudly. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but we don't know what he's there for."
"He murdered eight farmers, including the children," Leliana explained, seemingly undisturbed. Alistair did a double take between her and Draco.
"You're still not going to bring him along with us?" asked Alistair in rage.
"We're all murderers, Alistair," replied Draco. Alistair shut his mouth and looked down in silence.
"Everyone is deserving of forgiveness Alistair," added Leliana kindly.
Once they entered the chantry, they made their way to the revered mothers office. The old woman looked up from the tome in her hands and smiled. "Welcome, children. And welcome back Leliana. I hope you have decided to stay?"
Lysa saw Leliana's eyes harden and her voice darken. "No revered mother. These Grey Wardens have decided to accept my aid."
"Grey Wardens! You should not remain here long," muttered the revered mother, turning to them. "We will be leaving soon, but first I wish a favour-"
"For traitors?" asked the woman darkly. She sighed and rubbed her head. "I am sorry…The local lord has left and all the burdens of leadership have been thrust upon me. My uncle served in the Grey Wardens. I will be happy to help." She sat back and smiled tiredly.
Draco nodded his head respectfully. "The qunari prisoner. I wish him released so that he might help me."
The revered mother looked at him as if he had just informed her that Andraste and Maferath had had a child and he was their descendant.
"You wish the help of…a murderer!"
"Revered mother," said Leliana gently stepping forward, "We were both there at his trial. He is sorry for his trespass, we both know it. Please, grant him the chance to redeem himself."
The revered mother looked down in her lap for a long while, then sighed. "I am too old for this. Very well Warden," she looked up. "You may take the qunari with you. There is nothing more I can do for you…aside from a blessing, perhaps?"
Lysa, Alistair and Leliana knelt down before the revered mother. She looked up at Draco and Morrigan. "By your eyes you do not wish a blessing, but that matters not." She stood up and raising a hand spoke, saying, "Maker, bless Your children. Let Your light be a beacon in their darkness and guide them in their strife. So may it be." She turned to look at the other two and smiled sadly. "You do not wish the blessing, but I still say this; may the Maker protect you and guide you through this strife to victory. Farewell Grey Wardens."
When they returned to Sten he looked down at them with mild surprise as they unlocked the door. "And so, it is done," he said. "I will follow you into battle. In doing so I will find my atonement. Let us be gone."
Draco nodded and they set off. They had nearly reached the next part of the road when a high pitched scream reached their ears. "Back from my son you scum!" came a yell. Lysa drew her bow and nocked an arrow, running ahead with Leliana and the dogs. Running up the ramp they saw two dwarves, a young one with watery eyes and mousy blonde hair, and his father (by the yell) who had brown hair and a beard, surrounded by six darkspawn. The dogs rushed forwards and took down the Alpha leading them, while Leliana and Lya shot down another each. Sten streaked past them, grapping the Alpha's fallen battleaxe. Swinging it within an inhuman strength, Sten cut a Hurlock in twain, in a huge explosion of blood and bone. He whipped the axe back again and took out another. Draco arrived just in time to slit the belly of the last one. Lysa grinned at their new companions. We've got a leader with a good judge of character. "Careful," she exclaimed to the others, "Touch the darkspawn blood and you might get the Blight sickness and the only cure for that is becoming a Grey Warden."
"Which none of us know how to do," muttered Alistair.
The older dwarf approached and bowed. "Mighty timely arrival there, my friend," he exclaimed. "I'm much obliged."
"You're welcome," said Lysa, stowing her bow and retrieving the arrows.
"The name's Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This is my son, Sandal. Say hello my boy."
The boy looked at them with eyes that, though slow, possessed a strange power and gaze. "Hello."
"Road's been mighty dangerous these days. Mind if I ask were you what brings you out here? Perhaps we are going the same way."
Draco chuckled darkly. "I doubt you would wish to travel with Grey Wardens."
"Grey Wardens, hm? My, that rather does explain a lot." He smiled ruefully. "No offence, but I suspect that there's more excitement on your road then me and my boy can handle. Allow me to bid you farewell and good fortune though." He bowed and turned back to the wreck of his wagon. Sandal looked at them keenly, before saying, "Goodbye." Something in his eyes sent a chill up Lysa's spine.
Camp
The great dragon stared down at her, surrounded by a corona of darkness and corruption. Its vast purple eyes gazed down at her from its perch upon the ancient bridge. Below it were the fires of million torches and the screams of thousands of voices. It raised its head and roared, fire the colour of ebony, shot through with amethyst, billowing from its jaws. It cried out its command;
"EAT"
Lysa woke with a start inside her tent, drenched in sweat. She sat there, her eyes roaming the pale material until she was satisfied that she was back in her tent. She let out a sigh of relief…and fear. She pushed herself up and out of the tent, desperate to escape the cramped tent. It reminded her too much of the cavern from her dream. She stood in the camp, dressed in her trousers and shirt, staring up at the stars.
"Bad dreams, huh?" came a voice. She turned to see the others sitting around the campfire, removed of arms and weapons. She had retired early, pleading exhaustion.
"It was," she shook her head and sat down with them. "So real…"
"It is real. Sort of," said Alistair. The smell of stew rose from the pot in front of Draco, who was adding spices and herbs to the concoction.
"You see," said Draco looking up. "One of the things about the Grey Wardens is we can sense or hear the spawn. That's what it was. Hearing them."
"The Archdemon…its talks to them," added Alistair taking a bowl of stew. "We feel it, just like they do. That is how we know it is a Blight."
"Why didn't Duncan tell the rest of the country?" asked Leliana in confusion, sitting beside Lysa. Lysa blushed at the contact.
"Doubtless, the other bas did not wish to believe him," stated Sten. He sipped the stew and nodded. "The orphan stew is satisfactory," he said to Draco.
Everyone blanched. Draco whistled quietly. He looked up. "Chicken and garlic," he said.
"Thank the Maker," gasped Alistair.
They all spun round as the sound of hooves approached. Draco stood, and stared into the darkness.
"Wardens?" came a familiar voice.
"Bodahn?" called Draco. The small wagon, piled high with crates and goods came round the corner, pulled by a stout oxen. The two dwarves sat on the wagon, Sandal waving enthusiastically and grinning like a pumpkin. Bodahn pulled to a halt by the tents and leapt down. He walked over with a nervous smile.
"I got to thinking you see," he explained. "Adventure means business. And I always dreamt of an adventure. So, I decided that if the offer was still standing…" he looked hopefully at them. Draco looked down on him angrily and then his face split into a grin.
"Welcome! We are just having a late meal. Care to join?"
"Gladly! Come on, Sandal."
The group shuffled around to allow the dwarves to sit. However just before he did, Bodahn clapped his hand to his head. "Stones ore! Near clear forgot!" He ran back to the wagon and came back with a roll of parchment. "Here," he said passing it over to Draco. "A contract I came up with for our mutual benefit."
Draco looked over it and laughed. "We trade with you and you sell your goods and whatever you pick up at half price. In return we protect you on the road and refer you to others."
Bodahn nodded. "Also we will fix any equipment you need repaired and Sandal offers enchantment," he finished, his eyes twinkling. Morrigan's head shot to Sandal. "He can perform enchantment?" she asked incredulously.
"Why yes," cried Bodahn. "Show her my boy."
Sandal put down his bowl and stood. He pulled out a small dagger and a little rune that crackled with energy. He slowly began to push the rune and the dagger together, rubbing them up and down. Slowly the rune, slowly began to slide into the metal. Suddenly, there was a loud crack. The blade suddenly crackled with power. They all gasped in awe, bar Sten who was eyeing Sandal in trepidation and respect.
"Enchantment," said Sandal happily, passing the dagger to Morrigan, who took it, eyeing it minutely.
Sandal and Bodahn sat back down and began to eat.
Lysa smiled. Things were starting to look up.
Leliana looked up at her and the other Wardens. "May I ask why you all joined the Wardens?"
Draco shrugged. "Whole family butchered, payment for my rescue and that of my sister in law."
Lysa sighed. "The son of the Arl of Denerim raped my cousin, killed three others and murdered my fiancé."
Leliana blushed in embarrassment and shame. "I'm sorry," she said, resting a hand on Lysa's knee. Lysa smiled shyly.
Alistair cleared his throat, "Got piss-arse bored and got rescued from boring as shit life by Duncan."
Morrigan sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "They just told us the horrible reasons why they joined and you say something like that."
Alistair shrugged. "Got to bring back some cheer."
"Men!" yelled Lysa and Leliana.