Chapter VII argument

Sitting under the shade of a tree, long branches covered with leaves of red and orange and Gray, she ate the hard cheese first and then the apple. The tree's leave named it an oak, another sign of how far she had come from home. Oaks didn't grow in Highever's forests. She wondered if she would forget that, if she lived long enough. She wondered absently what the life expectancy of a Gray Warden was, petting Asgar's back where he lay beside her, content for a moment. What would have happened to him if I had died? The thought made her sad and a bit guilty.

She had nibbled on the dried deer, but had eventually tossed it to Asgar. It reminded her of the men she had killed.

Maybe I'm not made to be a warrior after all, she thought, remembering back to the first time her father had taken her hunting. The hounds caught the scent of deer early on, and the party tracked it through the trees for what felt like hours. Finally, the hounds' movements told them it was close. She was thoroughly enjoying herself until her brother brought the deer down, a great beast with branching antlers and dark, wise eyes, with an arrow through the forehead. Her father had sent her back with one of the knights, desperately trying not to cry. She didn't touch the venison at dinner that night, or any night after that.

She had never killed anything before. She didn't even like to squish insects, preferring to trap them in a jar than end their tiny lives. But she had been defending her home…

And they were following orders, replied a familiar voice.

They wouldn't have spared me.

You didn't give them a chance, it observed.

They murdered my family.

As you murdered someone else's when you took their lives. The voice was smug.

She stood up with a sigh, ending the internal argument. She could never win against the voice. The worst part was that it was always right.

Perhaps I should explore Ostagar, she mused. She wasn't really in a sightseeing mood, but her empty mind was inviting dark visitors. Besides, she had always had a fascination for architecture.

And Ostagar had plenty of it. She wondered over a massive stone bridge, fingers trailing the carved stone railing. She had to move to the other side sometime around the middle to avoid a huge gap in the rock, like a hungry giant had gnawed halfway through it.

She stopped admire two statues flanking the bridge on the other side. Andraste, she knew when she saw the one on the left. The other was too worn to recognize, but the quality of the ancient craftsmanship was still obvious. She would have to remember to ask Duncan how old Ostagar was.

She turned back to admire the stone likeness of Andraste… and froze in horror. Asgar, nonchalant as anything, was relieving himself on the statue's foundation.

"Asgar, no!" she scolded, panicked. But the damage was done. The war dog cocked his head and lolled his tongue, as if to ask what was wrong. Ash sighed. "Well, if the Maker strikes us with the boils and indigestion, I'm blaming you," she said crisply. Asgar gave a whine that was almost a laugh.

There was another laugh, behind her. She spun, flushing; there was a young man a ways down the road who, unless he was getting a kick out of the architecture, had seen their whole exchange. He was too far away to make out a sigil on his arms, but he seemed handsome enough. Of course, she thought, flushing again. She gave an exaggerated shrug, trying to brush off the embarrassment. He grinned broadly and continued on his way. "You knew he was there the whole time, didn't you?" she accused the hound. He wagged his tail happily.

She was still blushing at the incident as she walked away, but it had distracted her from other thoughts. She lost herself in the bustle of the camp, watching the people and stopping to admire anything that interested her. She stopped to put a hand on an old grave, the name worn away but a weathered gryphon was barely visible in the right corner. Ash said a prayer for the unnamed warrior. They passed what a small sign identified as the Quartermaster's tent nestled between the foot of a steep hill and an ancient open forge extending out from it. She made note of the many new wooden structures, watch towers, pavilions, and tables, that filled the courtyard. The army must have been here for some time. One such pavilion was currently in use. She glanced into the sky; she would have liked to have more time, but the gathering was on the way to a half-fallen circle of stone she wanted to see, so she stopped to watch.

"We gather here today, in the very heart of the battle against the result of human depravity." Chantry. A Mother, by her age and the sharpness of her voice. She noticed the Chantry tent close by. This pavilion must have been built for their use. "We gather to ask the Maker to protect us from our sins. In the name of his bride Andraste, we ask him to watch over those of us who have already fallen, as well as those still to fall."

The crowd around her was large, mostly composed of haggard soldiers who looked like they had seen people fall recently. Many of them bowed their heads, muttering their own prayers softly. Others looked to the speaker, eyes searching for reassurance. Some knelt. Ash bowed her head.

The Mother continued. "We ask for his light and guidance. We ask for his help in dispelling this evil that threatens to consume us. But above all else, today we pray for the intercession of his beloved bride for the fallen. May they rest safely in the arms of the King of All. Andraste, watch over us. Maker, deliver us."

"Maker, deliver us," the crowd repeated together, some quiet and some with full voice.

"Maker deliver us," whispered Ash.

She gave a smile to the Reverend Mother as she descended the steps, who returned a solemn nod. When she looked over her shoulder at the sun, it had turned the sky into a rich mélange of warm reds and oranges. She had a bit longer before Duncan had instructed her to return, but she still needed to find the other Warden… what was his name again? Alec? She shook her head as she turned towards the crescent of stones she'd been heading too before she'd stopped at the pavilion. She had always been awful with names, a glaring fault at court. I'll never have to worry about that again, she thought ruefully, squeezing her eyes shut against the breaking wave of sadness.

When she reached the stones, her hunger to explore was all but gone, lost beneath the water in her head. She stood in the middle of the circle, but the stones were just stones again. That's how it should be, she thought, cursing herself. Should the dead laugh with the living? Asgar, sensing the black waters rising in his mistress, nuzzled her, whimpering softly. She placed a hand on his head as she walked to the far edge of the circle, where the missing pillars should have been. Asgar followed beside her, close enough that she didn't have to move her hand.

She had a good guess where the missing pillars had gone—with the stone that had supported them, through three hundred feet of air to the ground below. It looked west, and the sunset gently touched the forest with its glow and suffused through the broken stone past the end of her vision. She felt very small. She took half a step, so that only her heels were on the stone. Asgar whimpered again. It would be easy, she thought, to shift her weight forward. She looked back at Asgar, now pacing nervously. Duncan would take care of him…

She stepped back carefully. Asgar wagged his tail, barking happily. No, she couldn't. The sun had touched the trees. She turned from the splendid sight. "Howe will go first," she said out loud. Asgar huffed solemnly in agreement.

She made for the light of a large fire past where she had seen the kennels, already bright in the twilight.