On the Rooftop

Their steps echoing off the stone floor of the hallway and Mhairi's quiet sobs were the only sounds on their way to the rooftop. It grated on Ioran's nerves. He felt dirty and that had nothing to do with the Darkspawn gore and blood on him.

To end Roland's life had been an act of mercy. He knew that. Yet it did nothing to keep him from feeling guilty for a good man's death. It felt like murder. The last time he had to show that particular mercy to a comrade, Ioran swore to himself he'd never do it again. He had had nightmares about it for weeks on end. It did not feel right then and it did not feel any better now.

Despite him knowing there was no other way, Ioran had turned to the mage for confirmation. Anders had looked as sick and torn as he felt when he had confirmed his opinion. His reaction had convinced him a little more that the apostate was no maleficar. The maleficar he had encountered in the past rarely showed so much compassion and understanding for the ailments of others.

Ioran forced himself to follow that line of thinking to get rid of the pictures of Roland's dead body in his head. He still had to make a decision what was to happen to the healer should he survive their fight against the Darkspawn.

The easiest would be to lock him up again until the Tower sent another group of Templars to retrieve him but Ioran felt uncomfortable doing that. The one time he had ever been in a Circle Tower had left a lasting impression.

The atmosphere there was dull and dark, the silence almost palpable. The mages were neither allowed personal possessions nor too close friendships. They were watched and strictly controlled at all times. Their lives seemed to consist of nothing more than studies and training. If it had not been for the imprinted suns on their foreheads, Ioran would have had a hard time telling the Tranquil apart from most of the mages. The place had terrified him. It was no wonder that the braver ones among the mages tried to escape the iron grasp of the Tower one way or another.

Another possibility would be to look the other way and simply let Anders go. It was probably the decision that would suit the mage most but Ioran was not too happy with this alternative, either. There was another thought nagging at him.

We are short of wardens. Especially mage wardens. You could ask him to join us.

The idea had its appeal. The man seemed capable enough from what he had seen back down in the prison and he was a healer. No matter if he was guilty of killing the Templars or not, Anders would be a valuable addition to his admittedly very short list of suitable recruits. Ioran would not even have to justify his decision. The wardens did answer to no one and they were known to welcome anyone into their ranks – even criminals – if they were just useful enough. He liked this possibility the most.

Of course there would be problems such as the prejudices most people had against mages in general and apostates in particular. Mhairi's reaction to Anders was a telling example for the opinion predominant in large parts of Thedas that apostates had to be maleficar. If he conscripted Anders into the wardens, the man would see himself confronted with a lot of suspicion and fear. Ioran was not quite sure if he could afford that kind of trouble. In the larger and far more accepted compounds, he would have time to settle and establish a certain level of trust before he was expected to join a mission. They did not have that luxury in Ferelden. Every warden was needed and if things did not work in Ioran's favor, the mage could turn out to be a danger more than a benefit.

A sound in the back shook Ioran out of his contemplations. It was not very loud but it was the unmistakable clank of metal connecting with stone and it came closer. With a frown, he drew his sword and turned around. Alarmed by his actions, Mhairi and Anders followed his example and readied themselves as well.

"Someone's coming," he said when he caught Mhairi's questioning gaze. "Be on your guard."

The clanking became louder. Ioran recognized it as the steps of armored feet now; armored feet that tried to be quiet. He motioned for his companions to stay where they were while he moved closer to the last junction they had passed. His pulse was quickening with the expectation of more enemies coming their way. He thought they had cleared this section of the fortress for good but now he was not so sure anymore. What if they missed a pack? What if they ran right into another ambush?

The steps stopped just behind the corner and Ioran grasped the hilt of his sword harder. Determination took the place of doubt. Even if he was right and this was an ambush, they could deal with it. They did not come this far just to be killed now because of his heedlessness.

Taking a deep breath, Ioran prepared himself to attack… when a half-whisper from the other side made him freeze in mid-step.

"Commander?"

The voice sounded hesitant but familiar. He remembered he heard it sometime during the night even though he could not quite place it. Frowning, he lowered his weapon a few inches.

"Who's there?"

"Arik, ser," the unmistakably relieved answer came from the other side and a familiar figure stepped into view.

"Arik! Maker's breath, but I almost mistook you for an enemy!" Ioran exclaimed and clapped the man on the shoulder in equal relief. He almost forgot that he ordered the guard to return.

"I'm glad you didn't," Arik said. His gaze flickered over to Mhairi and then on to Anders where it lingered for a moment. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled at the mage.

"You really are an expert escapee, huh? Good to see you, sparkle-fingers."

Anders returned the smile wholeheartedly and winked at Arik.

"What can I say? I'm just brilliant."

"How's my sister? " Ioran interrupted the happy reunion. He was impatient to hear the soldier's report. They could still get reacquainted later, preferably when the fortress was back in their hands.

"Aislyn and Adele are both safe. They have some injuries, though. Nothing life-threatening but I suggest Anders should have a look at them as soon as possible. I left them at the barracks for now."

Ioran felt another wave of relief sweep through him with that information. It was disturbing that they got hurt but Arik said it was nothing too serious. He had to live with that for now. The most important thing was that they were safe and alive. It lifted a great stone off his chest.

"Have you encountered any more Darkspawn on the way?"

Arik shook his head.

"No, but I met Lieutenant Garavel briefly. He wanted me to tell you that our men are patrolling the estate to keep more enemies from intruding. Most of us are injured and Captain Haynes did not make it but the casualties seem to be tolerable, anyway. The Orlesian wardens took most of the brunt. We do not know what has become of them, though."

Ioran heaved a sigh. He feared he knew what had become of them. On their way, he had seen at least five corpses that bore the griffon crest of the Grey. There was still hope that no more of his brothers fell victim to the ambush but a feeling in his gut told him that these five were not the only ones. For a moment, he had pondered to go over and identify the men but he couldn't bring himself to do so. His apprehension to see a familiar face held him back. From the twenty wardens that came down from Orlais, Ioran knew at least ten. To see one of them dead to his feet would only evoke grief and he couldn't afford that; not yet, anyway. There would be time to count the losses but it was not now. He needed a clear head to see this through.

Ioran thanked Arik for the report and gave him a short briefing of what they expected to find on the roof. He made sure to keep his tone neutral when the subject of the talking Darkspawn came up since he did not know what to make of it yet.

The thought that one of those creatures had developed the ability of speech was disturbing and terrifying. He would have liked nothing better than to dismiss it as hallucinations, caused by the pain and blood loss of a goner but something in Roland's eyes had been too clear, too sure for that to be true. It also fit too frighteningly well with the Darkspawn's new and advanced offensive strategies. Not only did they attack out of hiding, their assaults also followed a more coordinated pattern than usual. Ioran and Mhairi noticed that, when they fought their way through the beasts' ranks in the courtyard, the Darkspawn didn't just blindly hack and slash at their targets but aimed for weaknesses in their defenses and armors. It was a behavior Ioran only witnessed about Alphas and Emissaries before but not about the common creatures like Hurlocks and Genlocks. Even if the information about a talking Darkspawn turned out to be false, there was no doubt that something was terribly wrong here.

Arik took the news rather calm and collected. Like Ioran, he seemed to be of the opinion that they should not take anything for granted and be prepared for everything as unlikely as it may be.

The next door they opened led them out onto the battlements. The rain became stronger again and it was even colder up here than in the courtyard. An icy wind blew mercilessly into their faces and made them feel every raindrop as sharp as a shard of glass. Anders was suffering most from the onslaught of the elements. His robes provided little protection and within a minute he was shivering violently in the cold.

"You should have put on a coat," Arik said with a sideways glance at the mage. A sarcastic grin lit up Anders' face.

"Well, I certainly would have done so if the Templars remembered to let me pack my things before they dragged me along. They are forgetful like that, you know? Must be part of the job description."

Mhairi snorted snidely at that but did not say anything. Ioran's earlier rebuke still seemed to be on her mind. She did not utter a single word since they left Roland's corpse. He pitied her a little. Especially since she had not taken her friend's loss too well but for the moment he was glad that she had not yet broken her silence. Another argument between her and Anders was a complication he did not need in the least.

"What about a heat-spell or something like that? Don't you people learn such things in the Circle?" he heard Arik ask beside him.

The mage's grin turned outright sardonic and he carelessly shrugged his shoulders.

"I've not been around for classes very often. Most of the time, I was busy planning my next escape or hiding in closets with some nice company. The robes are quite practical for that, by the way."

Anders wriggled his eyebrows and even Ioran couldn't hide a small smirk but it did not last for long. He motioned for his companions to be quiet. The short banter may have lightened the mood but it also could have alerted the enemy. The pull behind his navel became stronger when they stepped out into the open. They had to be close to their destination now. He just hoped they arrived in time for the seneschal to be still alive. There had been enough deaths already.

Carefully they moved on. It felt like an eternity but Ioran knew only a few minutes could have passed when they heard a terrified scream that died away again quickly. He did not want to think about what that meant but unfortunately, he was left no choice.

When he spied a figure close to the edge of the battlements looking down, his stomach clenched into a tight knot of horror for a moment before white-hot rage filled his senses and blurred his vision. Ioran deliberately took a few deep, calming breathes to stop himself from doing something very stupid. He could not even see the figure properly in the darkness. The only thing he could tell for sure was that what pushed the unfortunate soldier over the edge was a Darkspawn. He had no clue of how well armed it was or if it had any magical abilities at its disposal. Attacking blindly and driven by hate would only result in him ending up with his head to his feet or a sword through his middle.

Keep your cool, you idiot! These people depend on you! You're their commander, not a common soldier anymore, so by Andraste's tits behave the fucking part!

Slowly, painfully slowly, the red mist clouding his mind retreated. Ioran forced himself to concentrate on his surroundings again and scanned the area. There was another creature near the first, holding a jagged knife to the throat of a grey-haired man on his knees. From the crest that decorated the front of the elder man's armor, he assumed this had to be the seneschal. Ioran did not see any other enemies but he knew there had to be more somewhere, lurking in the shadows. There might be a lot of behavior patterns that changed about the creatures but they still attacked and traveled in packs and the pull of the taint in his guts was too strong to come from just these two.

He looked at his companions to gauge their reaction and was glad to see that all of them wore an expression of determination rather than fear. He drew his sword again and like one being, his group responded, readying their own weapons of choice.

Their actions went not unnoticed. The Darkspawn turned its head at them but made no move to attack. Instead it laughed and it sounded so amused that it sent a chill down Ioran's spine.

"Ah! It seems you have been right, human. You're friends have come," the Darkspawn by the edge suddenly said, addressing the man in their hold. Its voice was deep and rich, the words strangely accentuated as if it was not used to the sound of them. Another chill coursed through him. Roland said it was talking but still, the truth of it took him by surprise. His mind simply denied the possibility of a talking Darkspawn. It was abhorrent to nature and it refuted everything he had been taught about these creatures.

The Darkspawn slowly made a few steps in their direction and as if that had been a signal, four of its brethren came into sight from behind a corner, spreading out in a half-circle. For a long moment, the splashing of raindrops on stone was the only thing to be heard as both parties watched each other furtively.

Ioran especially had his eye on the one that had been talking. It clearly was the leader but it looked different from any Darkspawn he had ever seen. The build resembled that of a Hurlock but it was bulkier and a few inches taller. Its face looked pale and leathery but at the same time strangely human; an impression that was amplified by too intelligent eyes that were colored up to the forehead with some kind of war paint – or blood. It was an intimidating sight. He briefly wondered if more of these new creatures existed or if this one was an exception when the Darkspawn sneered at them and pointed a massive hand at Ioran.

"Capture the Grey Warden. These others, they may be killed."

The whole battlement seemed to spring into a blur of motion in an instant. Arik and Mhairi stormed forth to meet the four attacking minions while Anders in his back let lose a wave of ice and snow that froze two of the creatures in place. They were immediately dispatched by the two warriors in the front line. Ioran went for the talking Darkspawn instead. The monster did not join the fray. It lingered at the edge of it, waiting and watching.

When the first of its acolytes fell victim to Ioran's companions in a matter of seconds, the leader motioned for the remaining Darkspawn that guarded the captive to come to its brothers' aid but still, it did nothing itself to help its followers. Instead, it retreated. Not willing to let that happen, Ioran sped up his pace and lunged at the beast with a primal scream. Since it did not even have a weapon drawn, he expected the attack to hit home but the creature was faster than he thought. The impact when his blade met the solid metal of a shield instead of soft flesh painfully reverberated through his arm and shoulder and almost made him lose the weapon. He gritted his teeth against the pain and brought his own shield up to block the counter-attack that followed. Despite its size, the Darkspawn was fast and Ioran found himself on the defensive immediately as blow after blow came down on him in rapid succession and with brutal force. He had no chance but to retreat if he did not want to be crushed by the massive strikes. Feverishly, Ioran tried to find a gap in his opponent's defense he could use to break the onslaught. His shield already sported an impressive collection of buckles and dents and it was only a matter of time until the material would give way. Knowing there was not even the smallest breach, the creature flashed yellow, razor-sharp teeth at him in what he assumed was a grin.

A bright bolt of light shot past Ioran's ear so close he felt the heat and heard the crackling of energy. Electricity made the hair on the back of his neck stand up and his skin prickle. He cursed under his breath, casting a quick glance at Anders but the mage seemed unaffected by the near miss. Little snowflakes started to dance around his hands as he readied an ice-spell.

Ioran's eyes shot back to the Darkspawn. The blue and white flickers of the lightning-spell ran over its armor and where they touched skin, faint traces of smoke rose from the creature and singed the air with the smell of burnt flesh but it did in no way slow it down. Its attacks still came with the same speed and precision they did before. They even seemed more brutal as if the spell fueled the Darkspawn's strength.

At that point, Ioran felt the temperature around him drop rapidly and he knew Anders was about to release his ice magic upon his opponent. Raising his shield over his head, he ducked just in time to prevent being caught by the brunt of it as well. The sudden cooling of the air made the stone beneath their feet slippery as the rain began to freeze over and he almost lost his footing. Another curse fled him.

Who in the Maker's name is that mage trying to kill here exactly?

While he tried to find his balance again, a shadow passed him by and he heard a fierce battle cry when Mhairi crashed into the Darkspawn. Even though she was a petite thing, the additional weight of her armor and the speed with which she stormed forward caused their enemy to stumble back. It was not enough to bring it down but combined with Anders' spell it stopped the merciless onslaught and bought Ioran a few precious seconds to catch his breath. He risked another look back to see how the mage and Arik were holding up. The guardsman was bleeding from a gash on his forehead and was breathing heavily but his attacks were still powerful. He had just run his one-hander through the middle of one of the beasts, causing its entrails to spill all over the place. There was only one more minion left and Arik immediately switched his attention to the remaining foe.

Meanwhile, Ioran felt the bolstering effects of a rejuvenation-spell coursing through his system while another ice-spell flew past him. He did not have time to be surprised by the mage's ability to handle two spells at once, though, for a painful cry cut through the general clamor of battle, followed by a scraping of metal against stone.

Ioran's head flew back around to where Mhairi and the leader had been fighting. He found the girl lying on the ground, motionless, her breastplate sporting an ugly dent. The Darkspawn stood over her, sword grasped with both hands, blade facing downward for the killing blow.

"Anders!" he shouted at the mage while at the same moment drawing a dagger from its sheath in his boot. He was too far away to reach the creature in time to prevent the strike. In desperate haste and with all force he could muster he flung the knife at the enemy instead, not caring where it might hit as long as it saved Mhairi from the inevitable. Despite his lousy aim, the small blade did not miss its target and bit into the Darkspawn's shoulder where it got stuck. Ioran heard the creature grunt – the first sound from it altogether since the fight started – and saw it turn its head, away from the girl. The short delay was enough for him to reach the two figures and land a hard blow with his shield into the creature's side. Since it had discarded its own shield in favor for a double-handed strike, the brunt hit it full force and this time, it did go down.

Unfortunately, that did not mean that it was defenseless. A spiked boot shot up and caught Ioran in the middle when he raised his sword over his head for a downward cut. It took his breath away long enough for the Darkspawn to get back up on one knee and swing its weapon at his legs in a wide arc. Ioran knew it was pure luck that the blade only scratched the surface of his bracers. He was not fast enough to avoid the blow and only the knife in its shoulder that restricted the monster's mobility saved him from losing a leg. Angry about his fault, Ioran doubled his efforts to bring the creature down for good. It was at a disadvantage in its kneeling position and he mercilessly drove his sword down time and again. He barely noticed Arik suddenly appearing by his side. The soldier had dispatched the last of the Darkspawn group and now came to his aid.

Seeing that it was outnumbered, the Darkspawn growled, baring its teeth. Its now empty shield hand shot forth and the two men were hurled back by a massive shockwave. The abrupt change in air pressure again left Ioran breathless and made his eardrums hurt. His sight went blurry and his hearing was muted. He shook his head violently to get rid of the dizziness. Shock and surprise made his heart race in his chest.

That damn bastard's an emissary!

He was given no time to digest that new unexpected development for a sharp pain flashed through his shoulder like liquid fire and made him gasp. The Darkspawn was back on his feet and when Ioran looked down, he found its blackened sword embedded in his flesh. The pain was excruciating but somehow he succeeded in grabbing the blade and pushing himself off of the tip. He felt the metal grind against bone and heard the sickening wet noise when the weapon came free. His stomach lurched and an overwhelming feeling of vertigo almost brought him to his knees.

Beside him, Arik still fought to get back to his feet. The impact of the shockwave had slammed him into the solid wall in his back and made his head connect with the stone hard enough to knock him out for a few seconds.

Ioran felt desperation rising in his heart. This new enemy was a lot stronger than they thought and it incapacitated almost every one of them in a frighteningly short time. His eyes flickered from Arik to Mhairi and then to Anders. The apostate was the only one still relatively unscathed but he, too, looked tired from the constant use of his magic. He still knelt beside the recruit, hands glowing in an eerily blue-white light as he sent out wave after wave of healing magic. His attacks long since stopped with the increasingly demanding task of keeping them alive. Ioran appreciated the mages effort but he couldn't help but think that maybe it was not enough. Nothing seemed to affect the Darkspawn strong enough for them to land a fatal blow. The harder they pressed on, the stronger the monster seemed to get. For the first time that night, Ioran was scared.

Slowly, he lifted his shield while he, unwittingly, took a step back. His arm screamed in protest with every move and despite the rejuvenating energy Anders constantly sent their way, his legs felt like someone had strapped lead weights on his ankles; an effect he attributed to the heavily bleeding hole in his shoulder.

The Darkspawn just stood there in front of him without moving a muscle, an impressive demonstration of dominance. Its bleary, lidless eyes held Ioran's gaze with an intensity that made him shudder. And then it spoke.

"Surrender. I do not wish to harm you further, warden. I was sent to negotiate."

A hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up inside of him. Since when did Darkspawn negotiate? What was there to negotiate in the first place? The thought alone was ridiculous.

"Somehow that is hard to believe considering that you and your minions ambushed my men. There is nothing I could possibly want from you," Ioran spat.

The creature's head slightly tilted to one side and it made a sound that could pass as a regretful sigh. To hear something like that from a Darkspawn was disturbing; even more so than the fact that it was talking.

"Unfortunate. But it was to be expected. Our hope was that you would cooperate but it does not matter. We will find another one."

Its knuckles cracked when the Darkspawn's fingers tightened harder around the hilt of its one-hander, readying it for a new attack and Ioran shifted into a steadier stance. His injured arm was almost useless but he would be damned if he gave in to that monster without fighting to the last.

"You will find nothing here but death, freak!"

The answer was a menacing growl and the creature stepped forth, thus ending their short truce. Before it had reached him, however, it stopped dead in its tracks again. The expression on its too human face could only be described as utter surprise. Ioran frowned as he followed the Darkspawn's gaze that slowly drifted down to its chest.

The bloodied tip of a sword glistened in the dim light. He heard a low grunt as whoever held the weapon thrust it further through the creature's body. It sank to its knees, eyes clouding over, astonishment etched into the dying features.

Ioran could just stand and stare, as did his companions. There was complete silence for a long, unbelieving moment before he lifted his eyes to the man who stood over the enemy's prone form. He recognized the crest on his breastplate before he saw the face. It was the Darkspawn's prisoner; the one he assumed was seneschal Varel.

"I'm sorry, Commander," the man said then. "I would have joined the fight earlier but I'm afraid my hands were tied. Literally."

To prove his point, he lifted his hands up. There were still parts of a rough rope dangling from his wrists. Ioran just looked on. He was dumbfounded and unable to process yet what had just happened. Relief battled inside of him with the ridiculous urge to yell at the man who just saved all their lives for taking such a risk and the desperate wish to collapse right on the spot and pass out. Instead he limped to a nearby crate and ungracefully slumped down on it. He allowed himself a few seconds to set his thoughts straight, then looked at their savior again.

"You were there when it mattered. That's all I need to know. You're the seneschal?"

The man nodded and slightly bowed to him. Ioran almost laughed at that display of etiquette. It appeared strangely odd amidst all the blood and the Darkspawn corpses.

"Indeed. I'm Varel. I have to thank you, Commander, I owe you my life."

Ioran waved a dismissive hand at the seneschal. His thanks somehow seemed inappropriate considering that he already paid the alleged debt in full only seconds ago. He did not want the man's gratitude; he was just glad it was over.

"No need for that, seneschal. You should tell me instead what in the Maker's name happened here."

Varel looked at a loss there. Ioran had hoped to get some kind of explanation from him but as it was, he seemed to know as little as the rest of them.

"All I can tell you is that they came out of nowhere, ser. We were totally unprepared for the attack. There are always Darkspawn in Amaranthine for the Deep Roads run close to the surface here but never that many and never that coordinated. By the time we became aware it was an ambush it had already been too late. As for their purpose… well, I honestly don't know what made them crawling out of their holes again."

Ioran nodded. He had already suspected as much. It was all too obvious from what he had seen in the courtyard and on their way up to the roof that the soldiers at the Keep had been utterly defenseless against the seemingly unfounded attack. It did have a purpose, though. They might not know it yet but the Darkspawn had stated that they were trying to find something or, more precisely, someone.

With a sigh, he pushed the thought back for the time being. They needed to tend to their wounded and dead before they would be able to discuss the matter further. Rising from the crate, Ioran looked at Anders.

"How's Mhairi?"

"She's alright," was the answer. "Still unconscious but I don't think there will be permanent damage of any sort. I'll check on her later, though, just to be sure. For now I've done all I can."

"Will you be able to tend to the other wounded? You look tired."

A grin lit Anders' features and Ioran wondered if there was anything that was able to disturb the mage's optimism.

"Hey, what use would I be if my only exceptional talent was for dramatic escapes? Don't worry, good ser, I'm as fit as a fiddle."

It was an exaggeration, he was sure of that but as long as Anders was still up for jokes Ioran trusted him to be able to do his job. As if to prove his point, the apostate's hands once again flared with that eerie blue-white light and the pain in his shoulder abated to a bearable level. He felt the blood flow subsiding and the flesh coalescing and heaved a relieved sigh. Arik beside him gave a similar sound and Ioran turned his head to check on the soldier. He looked horrible in his dented and blood-spattered armor and with the slowly healing cut on his forehead but Ioran was sure he did not look a tad bit better. He was still standing, though, and the rest was nothing that could not be fixed by a hot bath and a good night's sleep.

"We should get your companion somewhere more comfortable, Commander," the seneschal said, nodding at Mhairi. "And we need to see who else might need our help."

Ioran suppressed the sharp answer that lay on his tongue with the comment. As thankful as he was that Varel had taken care of the Darkspawn leader as much he now disliked the undertone in the man's voice. It sounded as if he did not trust the new Commander to know where the priorities needed to be set and that was a disturbing thought. He decided to let it go, though, for the night had been straining for all of them and maybe he read something into the seneschal's tone of voice that was not even there. He would have an eye on him, regardless. If they were to work together there could be no doubt of who was in charge in this arrangement.

To their credit, both Arik and Anders looked at him for confirmation and Ioran was glad that at least with them there did not seem to be any doubt at all. He nodded his consent and gestured at Arik to help him carry Mhairi's limp body inside. Even though the imminent danger had been fended off, there was still a lot to do before they could get that hot bath and well deserved sleep. The night was long from over.