Chapter 8 – The Shadow Dance
Denerim
Fear, like fire, was a good ally but the worst of masters. Leliana knew that better than most.
As a former spy and assassin, fear was one of the many weapons she was taught to wield, just like her sabre or her feminine wiles. Together with Lady Marjolaine, she used fear to keep in check half a hundred Orlesian nobles. However she was never completely enamoured with holding another person's life in the palm of her hand, as Marjolaine had and which proved to be her undoing.
She had experienced primal terror in an Orlesian dungeon, and she had fled to seek refuge from that fear. She had found happiness in the strong arms and laughing eyes of a tall Highever lord, and though they battled darkspawn and archdemons and monsters, some of whom were human, she had never felt true fear ever since that chance meeting in Lothering. Even when Aedan had marched off to his death in the deep underground, at least she had the comfort of knowing he was doing what he was meant to do, as a Grey Warden. There had been sadness but no grief, longing but no fear.
But when the court seneschal interrupted the daily council meeting, escorting a young knight who was clearly teetering on the brink of collapse, she felt the familiar chill finger run down the length of her spine once again.
"Why have you disturbed us?" demanded King Duncan, looking with some distaste at the knight's dusty cloak and torn mail. His boots were muddy and left tracks across the expensive rug that was laid on the stone floor.
"I believe you should hear the message straight from Ser Osric's own lips, sire," said the seneschal, and stood quietly off to one side. The man's face was impassive, but Leliana had learned to read him as she had learned to read all men, and she could tell he was biting on the inside of his cheek, hard enough to draw blood. Whatever this Ser Osric had told him, it was significant to say the least.
The knight sank to one knee before his king, trembling with the effort. Leliana could see no visible wound, though it was obvious even to someone untrained in the ways of espionage that this was a man who had been pushed to every extremity.
"Rise," said Duncan stiffly. "And speak your message."
The knight rose, wincing as he did so. And then he spoke four words that seized Leliana's heart with real terror, the first she had felt since Aedan died.
"The Qunari have invaded."
Leliana sat in stunned silence as Ser Osric gave his report in a flat, dead voice, his eyes staring straight ahead of him like a man on guard duty or with a noose around his neck. She didn't want to think of the horrors that were tormenting the poor man on the other side of that eerie blank gaze. Around her the rest of the royal council seemed as shocked as she was. No one moved a muscle or made a sound until the knight had finished speaking.
The garrison was crushed. Small folk slaughtered. Arl Stonewood gutted while trying to mount a defense. Ser Osric named his brother Ser Beric among the slain, and Leliana felt a sudden stab of sorrow. She remembered Ser Beric, a doughty warrior who had bested the Iron Knight himself in a tournament long ago. She remembered the rose he had given her daughter, its petals as scarlet as her flaming cheeks. It seemed impossible that he could be dead.
Leliana stole a look at Duncan, and her heart sank as she saw the expression on his face. He was terrified. That alone would have been enough to condemn him if any of Ferelden's nobles had seen it, but Leliana saw that he looked lost as well, as if wishing for someone else to take the bitter cup that had been set before him. A king should be decisive. Instead he looked towards his Warden Commander.
"This outrage cannot be borne, sire!" declared Arl Wilder. "We must meet them on the field of battle and drive them from our shores."
"How can this be true, how could we not have warning?" babbled Bann Dimmesdale. The frail master of coin looked to be on the verge of collapse.
"The Royal Spymaster was in charge of our intelligence and scouting network," said Leliana firmly, and tried to ignore the glowering look Duncan gave her. "His dismissal resulted in an intelligence blackout when we needed it most."
To her relief, most of the other councillors nodded assent. But it didn't help Duncan's mood.
"Brandel's Reach has fallen. Where will the qunari strike next?"
"With their ships they could attack any of our coastal cities, your majesty," said Lina Traverse, Rolann's hand-picked representative from the Circle. "Alamar seems a likely target."
"What about Amaranthine and Highever? They're closer to the Reach," asked Duncan.
"Amaranthine is the seat of the Grey Wardens, sire," huffed Arl Wilder. "Our fortress is strong and my men are vigilant, ready to repel any attack."
"My son Rolann is in Highever," said Leliana quietly. "He would die before handing over his father's home to the enemy."
Duncan narrowed his eyes at the mention of Rolann's name. But in that at least he was no fool. Leliana was sure she was right. Amaranthine and Highever were probably the two cities best equipped to defend themselves against the qunari. The former due to the Grey Wardens garrisoned there, and Highever because of Rolann's fearsome proficiency with magic. Without exaggeration, Rolann could hold off an entire army for a few days all by himself.
"Your majesty," Keeper Mathias said suddenly. The elven leader seldom spoke, which is why everyone at the table suddenly listened carefully to what he said. "With your leave, I wish to depart Denerim immediately to warn my kinfolk in the Brecilian Forest. Their eastern borders will be vulnerable to a qunari invasion."
"King Bhelen must be warned too, your majesty," added Lord Bryand, the dwarf ambassador from Orzammar.
"Yes, yes, you have my leave to go," said Duncan testily. "Arl Wilder, we are of an accord. The qunari must be driven back by steel and fire. Where should we give them battle?"
"I think that depends on where the qunari will go," replied the Arl. So you wish to give them another chance to attack? thought Leliana, although she did not speak up.
"What about the safety of Denerim?" asked Bann Dimmesdale. "What if they come here?"
"The capital must be defended first and foremost," said Arl Wilder. "With your leave, sire, I will begin gathering an army at once, to be summoned to Denerim."
"You have it. And you will be in command, Arl Wilder. Maker grant you succeed in saving the kingdom," said Duncan.
"Your majesty, Arl Wilder is already Warden Commander," cut in Leliana. No one seemed to be asking the hard questions, so it was up to her. She prayed to the Maker that Duncan wouldn't be annoyed enough to send her to the hangsman. "While his skill in battle is fearsome indeed, should we not appoint someone from the Royal Army to assume command instead, someone familiar with its workings and its officers?"
Someone like Ser Artur Wellsley, you damn fool, she added mentally. The Iron Knight was a skilled commander as well as a warrior, and beloved of the commonfolk. But Duncan was already shaking his head.
"I will not, Lady Leliana. Like my father before me, I trust in the skill and courage of the Grey Wardens. Arl Wilder will lead my armies and drive the heathen qunari from my lands."
"As your majesty wills," said Leliana, as gracefully as she could. Inside, she was seething. She had a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time to do it in.
"Your majesty, allow me to contact my fellow mages at the Circle," offered Lina Traverse. "Ferelden's mages will be proud to answer the call of their king to battle."
"Do it," commanded Duncan. "Lady Leliana, you will send word to Teyrn Cousland as well. I will not lose Highever to a sneak attack."
"At once, your majesty." Thank the Maker the king got at least one thing right.
xxxx
Aeryn had been trying to embroider a dainty red pattern on one of the king's cloaks, a doomed endeavour that had earned her far more cuts and nicks on her fingers than any amount of sparring in the training yard had ever done. Both cloth and needle lay forgotten in her lap as she stared, open-mouthed and wide-eyed at her mother.
"The Qunari? Here?"
This could not be real. Qunari were storybook people, strange and mysterious and fierce. The Qunari who did make their way down to Ferelden said little and revealed less. There were people who went their entire lives having never seen a Qunari. In fact, one of the very few people who had a claim of knowing a Qunari well was her own father, allying with the ferocious warrior called Sten to stop the Blight. But even Teyrn Aedan Cousland, throughout his long friendship with Sten, had barely scratched the surface of the Qunari as a people, as a culture.
"It's true. We've just received a report from a knight of the Branhold," said Leliana. "I saw it in his eyes, darling. That man has been through hell."
Leliana longed for a good cup of wine, but she had sent the maidservant away when she entered the small sitting parlour Aeryn was in. Gossip would spread like wildfire and it would not do for the smallfolk to panic. She watched her only daughter carefully. Aeryn was biting her lip, her arms wrapped tight around herself. She looked more worried than Leliana could remember.
"We have to fight," said Aeryn immediately. "We have to push them back, we need to defend ourselves."
Leliana hid a smile at her daughter's instinctive reaction. She was Aedan to the life, always ready to leap into action. But if Aeryn saw her smiling, she would take it the wrong way. Although Leliana had come to appreciate her daughter as a tough and capable queen in her own right, she sometimes had trouble convincing her daughter of the very fact.
"The king and the others are already making preparations, but you can't go along with them Aeryn, no matter how much you want to. You are Duncan's wife and queen, and we can't risk your life needlessly."
Aeryn wanted to argue, but she knew her mother was making sense. "I understand. Are we leaving for Highever?"
"Would that we could," said Leliana. "I have no doubt your brother could protect us, but he needs to secure all his strength and his lands and cannot afford distractions. Highever is within sight of the sea, and a prime target for a Qunari raid."
Aeryn was nodding her head. "Where then?"
"I think it's best we stay here, for the time being."
"Denerim? What for?"
"Think about it Aeryn. With Duncan leaving, the queen must remain in the capital to reassure the smallfolk, lest we risk open revolt. If both you and Duncan quit the city, it will look too much like you're running."
"I suppose you're right. And Denerim is safe enough."
"For now. But at least here I can protect you."
"I can protect myself mother," said Aeryn, frowning.
"In a straight fight, one on one with steel in your hand against theirs, of that I have no doubt. It is whispers and lies and plots that I fear."
"What plots?"
"There are always plots. Have you forgotten Anora so quickly?"
"Yes but...I thought she had enemies of old. I don't have enemies!"
"You are Ferelden's queen, darling. You gained enemies the day you wedded Duncan."
Leliana did not like hitting her daughter with one harsh truth after another, but it had to be done. War was upon them, and her family had to be ready or else they would be torn apart and scattered. She missed Aedan so much, he would have known what best to do in this difficult time. But he was gone and she remained, and her family had need of her.
Aeryn bowed her head. "You are right as always, mother. I'll stay here and do what I can in Duncan's absence. I feel better that you're around, especially with Zevran gone."
Leliana allowed herself a small smile now. "Both Zevran and I have danced this dance before. It has been a long time since I've done it, but I fancy that I still remember all the steps. For a warrior look no further than a Fereldan lord like your father, but for shadow work...we Orlesians are just better."
Aeryn laughed at that remark. "More than twenty five years a Fereldan, mother, and you're still a patriotic Orlesian as ever."
There was a soft knock at the chamber door. "Lady Cousland?"
At the sound of the voice Leliana got up and opened the door herself, welcoming the visitor into the sitting room. Ser Artur Wellsley was not a particularly tall nor large man, yet he retained an air of authority and quiet dignity that Leliana liked. Unlike the other great lords and knights of Duncan's court, Ser Artur preferred to dress simply when not wearing arms and armour. He wore a plain brown vest and lambswool breeches under a cloak of dark green, his long sleeves and leggings serving to hide the horrific scars he had endured from darkspawn blades. But no raiment could hide the terrible curved scar that marked his bald skull, the slash that caused it also taking an ear.
Leliana and Aeryn had heard the tale, as had all of Ferelden. While she and Aedan were running around with the treaties of the Grey Wardens and the Arls and Banns of the realm cowered in their strongholds, Ser Artur had worked day and night to sweep any darkspawn incursions off his lands. With only a small retinue of hedge knights and men-at-arms, Ser Artur had defeated enemy bands more than twice his number. But that in itself was not enough to make him a household name.
After weeks of fighting, he and his soldiers had walked into an ambush. Scores of his men died, until Ser Artur was forced to flee back to his small keep of Fair Fountain alone. The darkspawn did not let up, and Ser Artur had to give battle by himself.
And what a battle it was! The darkspawn had come at him in droves, literally tearing off his armour piece by piece, but Ser Artur went on fighting. When his sword fell apart he flung it away and snatched up a rusty darkspawn spear, and fought with that. When the serving maids and greybeards who had hidden in Fair Fountain at his express command finally dared to venture out, they found Ser Artur half-hidden under a mountain of corpses, unconscious and bloodied and beaten from head to toe...but not quite broken.
The Iron Knight, men had called him from that day onwards, he had to be made out of solid iron to suffer so many wounds and live. Because of Ser Artur's bravery, the darkspawn never seriously threatened Gwaren and the southern lands again for the rest of the war. He had survived one war. Leliana was counting on him to win the next one.
"Your highness," said Ser Artur, bending down on one knee when he saw Aeryn with Leliana. "The Knight of Fair Fountain is at your service. And yours too, my Lady of Highever."
"Rise, good ser," said the young queen. The three of them sat around the small table.
"Will you take a drink, Ser Artur?" asked Leliana.
"My lady is kind to ask. A cup of wine, if it please you."
Instead of calling for a serving girl, Leliana poured a cup of wine from a flagon on the sideboard, and served the knight herself.
"Forgive the secrecy ser, but as I learned as a girl, walls have ears. What we three discuss here must never leave this room."
Ser Artur looked troubled. "My lady? What is the meaning of this?"
Leliana told him of the qunari invasion. Ser Artur did not say a word, but his lips were set in a thin, firm line.
"This is ill news," he said quietly, when Leliana had finished speaking.
"You have a talent for understatement, ser."
"What does the king will?"
"Battle."
"Maker grant him victory."
"The Maker helps those who help themselves, ser," said Leliana. "I hardly think the best strategy King Duncan could have picked was to wait until the qunari attacked another city, and then try to catch them unawares."
"Forgive me, my lady, but I believe it could work."
"It could – under a commander other than Arl Thornton Wilder."
Ser Artur shook his head. "Surely you jest, my lady. Arl Wilder is a Grey Warden, not the commander of the Royal Army."
"That is the wish of his majesty, unfortunately," sighed Leliana. "And while Arl Wilder is a good and brave man, my lord husband was of the opinion that he could not find his arse with both hands if he had a map. Pardon my Orlesian."
Ser Artur hid his snort in his wine cup. But then his manner grew serious. "My lady. Your highness. If we are at war, then I have a deal of work to do."
"That is why I have invited you here, Ser. I need you to do as I say."
"My lady, you are on his majesty's council and I had nothing but respect for your late husband...yet if this involves anything unseemly..."
"My lady mother would never dream of asking you to do aught that would stain your honour, ser," said Aeryn.
"You are too kind, dear. But my daughter is right, Ser Artur. I do not wish for you to work some treason behind the king's back."
"What then?"
"Only this. Journey to Gwaren and rally an army. Call every Arl and Bann you find to raise their banners and summon a mighty host. Ever since Loghain Mac Tir died at my husband's hands the Teyrnir's seat has been empty. The South needs its defenders as well as the North, and I do not mean for your people to be caught unawares if the qunari land on their shores."
"I am no great Arl, my lady, not even a Bann. The nobles of the Southern lands would not take instruction from a mere knight," said Ser Artur slowly.
"You are no mere knight," said Leliana. "You are the Iron Knight. Your valour is known far and wide. If that proves insufficient, I will give to you letters with the king's own seal, giving you the authority you need."
"I will do what you ask, my lady. I swear it by the Maker," said Ser Artur at last.
"Raise your men, train them, drill them, keep them on the alert. And wait, Ser Artur. Do not go harrying off into a great battle that you cannot hope to win. I fear that Wilder and the king may not win this war by themselves like they believe they can, and we will need a place where we can fall back to if all else is lost."
"But what if the king has need of me?"
"This is the knife-edge, ser. Wait, I beg you. Repel any qunari you find from the southern lands, but do not march unnecessarily. We must not lose a man more than we have to. There are desperate times ahead."
"Your counsel is wise," said Ser Artur. "And I see no stain to my honour, not if the king's own orders accompany me. With your leave, I will perform what you request of me at once."
Ser Artur rose and bowed, shutting the door gently behind him. Leliana let out a long breath and looked at her daughter.
"At least one man in this court of fools can see sense," she said. Aeryn tried to smile, but Leliana knew she was still worried.
"What will you do now, mother?"
"Why, I will find the king and convince him to use his royal seal on some very important documents, of course," said Leliana. "Even if I have to hide them in a much larger stack." Aeryn giggled, sounding just for an instant like a young girl, not the queen. Leliana felt glad, but her thoughts quickly turned to the long road ahead of her. If her family were to survive the coming war, she would fight with everything that she had.
