-oo-

Chapter 9 – Roads

"Tag!"

"Hey! Not fair!"

"Ha, ha, Rosie…try and catch me now…!"

He watched them tear around the garden, the little girl's legs pumping furiously beneath her. He chuckled to himself; he'd never tire of that comic gait very young children had when they ran…The older one – a boy with a bright head of wheat-blonde hair and smiling deep brown eyes deliberately slowed his pace so the girl could catch up with him. When she did, she grabbed onto the back of his shirt and he fell to the ground, hands clutching dramatically at his throat.

"Oh…urgh…you've got me…argh…!" He thrashed about the ground a couple of minutes; then lay still.

The smile fell from the girl's face, her fist went to her mouth in concern as she first prodded the prone boy with the toe of her bare foot, then she sat heavily on his chest, expelling an 'Urgh!" from him. She leaned into his face.

"You're not dead!"

"Yes, I am," he said.

"No you're not…!"

With a twist, the little boy managed to dump the girl onto her bottom and ran away again, the two beginning their chase and tag once more. He laughed – at the same time as two slender arms slid across the tops of his shoulders from behind. He felt her lips brush his ear, causing his skin to tingle all the way to his navel.

"You need a haircut," she told him.

"I like it long," he said. "I think it makes me look romantic and…roguish."

"You're getting a weird tan line," she told him, tracing the hairline around the back of his neck with a line of light kisses, ending with his other ear.

"You keep doing that and I'm going to have to take you inside," he murmured, grabbing a hold of her arms and tugging her onto his lap.

"Well, it would certainly solve the tanning problem," she told him in a practical tone of voice, slipping off his lap to stand in front of him; cheek resting lightly on the top of his head. "But I just don't get the appeal of a Rogue myself."

"No?"

"No."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to show you then." Reaching up he cupped her face in his hands, bringing her mouth down to his own. Soft lips moved under his and he deepened the kiss, thinking he might make good that promise of hauling her inside…until he realised she was laughing.

"You're spoiling the mood …" he muttered against her twitching mouth.

Her nose wrinkled adorably as she scrunched up her face. "Your moustache hairs keep going up my nose…" she complained, though she did it with a smile. He sighed, suddenly tightening his hold on her, fists clenching in the fabric of her dress.

"I want you back, Merran…Makers breath, I want you back…"

She gave another laugh, hands stroking his hair.

"Silly," she told him, the sound of children's laughter drifting from the other side of the garden. "I am back…"

Alistair awoke gasping for breath, his heart thudding loud and rapid in his ears. Pain stung his hand and he realised he'd been gripping the Rose so hard it had sliced into the skin of his hand. He sat up, his other hand rubbing at his crusted eyes. Had he been crying in his sleep? Slowing his breathing, he listened for signs of movement around camp. Jowan had cast magical defences at the two cave exits, so they could all get a full night's sleep before their long journey down the mountain. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep himself…

The camp was in silence; orange light beaming through the cave entrance as a new day dawned. Once they had cleared the mountain, their party was to make its way to Amaranthine. Even Alistair had realised he couldn't put off going there forever. By the time he arrived, the Orlesian Wardens would be there – and the King would be displeased. King Fergus' preference had been for a Fereldan to be there first.

Alistair lay back again, his hand throbbing painfully. He didn't feel like waking Jowan up so he could heal a simple cut, so he began to rummage around in his pack for some bandages.

A soft whine at the entrance to his tent preceded a large black nose and two inky eyes on either side of a damp muzzle.

"Are you ever not damp?" he asked Cullen as she barged further into his tent. She sat down beside him, placing a concerned paw on his leg. It was easy to forget how large a fully grown Mabari was, until one towered over you, but Cullen had a way of making herself small, if she wanted to. She lay down, resting her muzzle on his thigh. Alistair placed his hand on the top of her head, kneading her ears until her eyelids drooped.

"You've been thinking about her too huh?"

Cullen gave him a questioning whimper.

"I keep dreaming about her. Dreaming she's back." He shook his head. "I don't know. It's just wishful thinking, isn't it?" He reached for his Rose…the little girl in his dream...She had been called Rose…had he been dreaming about the children they could have had together? No, even if they had both survived, if they'd found a way to halt the progress of the Taint within her, they would never have had children. All the Grey Wardens he'd known with a family had already had them before they had become Wardens.

And yet...a small voice said in the back of his head, if that had been true, Merran wouldn't have existed at all. She had been the child of a Grey Warden post-Joining…

"It was just lucky for me, she turned out to be a fluke, huh?" he told Cullen.

Finding the bandages, he wrapped them around his hand. "Come on, let's get the others up."

-oo-

No Darkspawn…Merran frowned to herself. She heard Wynne make a noise of impatience when – for the umpteenth time – she backtracked, to peer down a branching tunnel. She had also been wandering off into other caverns, searching. There should be Darkspawn. After a Blight, they retreated underground…The Deep Roads was as underground as it could get.

"Merran, for pity's sake," Wynne's voice called to her. "Please can you not wander off like that. You're giving this old woman a heart attack."

"Sorry!" Merran called back. "I'm just…" A calloused hand slipped into hers, tugging her back into the main tunnel.

"We can make good time, if we stay together," Marduk reminded her, adding dryly, "and I'd rather the other Mage didn't die while we're down here."

"I'm just…" Merran began and stopped with a sigh. She followed him back to where Wynne and Shale stood waiting, the former tapping her foot impatiently. "Marduk," Merran asked the young Dwarf. "You said Kardol and the others have been fighting Darkspawn?"

Marduk gave a humourless snort. "That's an understatement. During the Blight was the only time the Legion had any rest," he informed her wryly. "We knew the Archdemon had gone when the Darkspawn had come back in numbers. Why do you ask?"

By this time the two of them had rejoined the other two and Merran was able to include them in her conversation. "We haven't encountered any Darkspawn – and Kardol said they had been acting…odd lately."

Marduk mulled over her statement. "You know, to be honest, I hadn't even thought about it." He shot her a self-deprecating grin. "My Pa would say it's because working with too much lyrium has addled my brain…"

"Well, perhaps we are tempting fate by even discussing this," Wynne said in her Senior Enchanter voice. "Don't forget; sound carries in these tunnels, and the Fates That Be have a funny sense of humour."

"Hm…" Merran murmured. She stopped suddenly and frowned. They had been travelling along the Deep Roads for a few hours now since breaking their fast. They had intended to be as close to Ortan Thaig as possible by mid-break, but the road marker said differently. She gestured Marduk over, pointing to the symbols on the marker.

Marduk peered at them, frowning. Then he looked around. Locating another marker, he ran towards it, then looked around again. He returned, holding out his hand for the map Merran had retrieved from her pack. Turning the map this way and that, he shook his head, saying finally. "I'm unfamiliar with these markers. They aren't on the map."

"That's impossible, young man," Wynne exclaimed, holding out her own hand for the map of the Deep Roads. "We've followed this very carefully…" Her eyes scanned the lines and squiggles inked carefully onto the vellum, tracing the road from the spot marked 'Cadash Thaig' back to the highway. Groaning softly, she touched a hand to her forehead. "Oh, please don't tell me we're lost."

Merran and Marduk exchanged a foreboding look. "Okay," Merran said slowly. "We won't."

"But we are lost, aren't we?" Shale asked.

"Well…" Marduk stood beside Wynne, to scan the map himself. "This map is old," he told them. "It's possible there's been a rock fall and a new passage opened up that we went down by accident…"

"We could be wandering around here to the end of our days!" Wynne said irritably. "If we backtrack, we risk taking another wrong turn." Merran placed her hand on Wynne's arm. The older Mage's tone of voice had sounded querulous and…old and she felt compelled to comfort the older woman.

"We have enough supplies for a week," Merran stated calmly. "We can try and stretch that a little." She indicated the road with a flick of her chin. "This looks like a main road – and they always head somewhere important. If we continue this way, the likelihood of finding someplace familiar…ish is pretty high." She sought confirmation from Marduk.

"Oh, uh…yes, yes," Marduk said a little too eagerly. "You're absolutely correct."

"Or," Wynne remarked, folding her arms. "This could lead us to a dead end."

Marduk grinned. Despite the gravity of the situation, he was having fun. "Oh yes," he told her cheerfully. "Definitely."

"Well, what is it to be?" Shale boomed above them. "Do we continue?"

Wynne sighed tiredly. "Very well," she agreed. "We will continue, as you say."

"Brilliant!" Merran touched Wynne's arm again. There was brief, soft glow around her hand, which shifted to surround the elder Mage. Wynne looked in surprise at Merran.

"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked.

Merran's cheeks dimpled. "'Gift' from the – ahem – you know what," she said.

"But you've never…Healing has never been your greatest strength – not that I am complaining…"

"I know," Merran chuckled. "Fantastic, isn't it? Useless at anything else – don't ask me to light a fire or anything," she added. "Can't seem to do it. Healing's all I'm good for, apparently."

"Well then," Wynne said, straightening her back – she'd never experienced such a powerful reinvigorating spell before – "I shall not look a gift horse in the mouth. Onwards then." She began striding down the road energetically. Marduk and Merran exchanged a mutual grin, then jogged to catch up with her.

-oo-

You're an idiot…Jowan's words rung in his ears as Alistair replaced his glove, tightening the buckles on his gauntlets. He shot a sour look at the departing Mage's back. It had just been a scratch, damn it. Granted, he'd had to empty the blood out of his glove and give it a bit of a rinse, but…He didn't understand it. He was a Grey Warden; and Grey Wardens had remarkable powers of healing. The injury he'd given himself should have closed up, but instead he'd bled all the way down the mountain.

And now a thought had begun to grow in his mind. He couldn't detect other Grey Wardens. He no longer had their horrendous appetites. The dreams had gone…What if…What if – somehow – being in contact with a dying Archdemon had somehow removed the Taint from him? Avernus had been very keen to remove a blood sample from him to test – well, what he'd asked for had been for more than blood. Given the opportunity, the nutty Mage would have performed a live vivisection there and then.

He frowned, deep in thought as he caught up with the others. To be honest, he wasn't too sure whether he wanted to be untainted. It would mean he was – technically – no longer a Grey Warden. Ooh, King Fergus would have an entire litter of kittens on his shiny golden throne if he found out.

No, Alistair told himself sternly. Being Warden Commander was his little escape route from being Arl – if he was no longer the Commander, he'd just be Your Grace.

"Eargh…"

"What is it?" Jowan flicked him a look that clearly told him what he thought of Alistair's current mental state.

"Nothing," Alistair said hastily. "Nothing at all."

"Someone approaches," Zevran's voice called from point duty. His hands strayed to his sword and dagger; then fell to his sides. "Someone noisy."

Sure enough, a lone horseman came rattling towards them. As horse and rider approached, they could see it was a woman – quite definitely a woman from the mouldings on her very shiny armour. She was even helmed: an elaborately-styled thing with splayed wings on either side that made her look as though she had been heading to a fancy dress party dressed as a bird of prey.

She dismounted, approaching the party with all the confidence of someone who'd been in military service for barely a week, her enthusiasm was shiny as her armour.

"Warden Commander!" she pushed past the others, offering Alistair a snappy salute. "I've been sent to escort you to Vigils Keep!"

Alistair's heart flipped in his chest. Damn Fergus! he swore to himself. Out loud he said, "Bugger."

The young soldier blushed, eyes widening. Unable to think of anything else to do, she saluted him again, gauntlets ringing on her helm as metal met metal.

Alistair felt sorry for the woman for being the one to be sent after them, but he wasn't sorry for being irritable about it. There was an awkward pause between them before she added brightly, "It's an honour to meet you Ser! I've heard so much about you, Warden Commander!" As she punctuated every sentence with a salute, Alistair winced. She raised her arm for another salute, but he grabbed her hand.

"Stop, stop…" he commanded. "You're going to dent your helmet."

"Or take someone's eye out," Jowan drawled behind her.

"Ser! Yes Ser!" she raised her hand again, another salute managing to slip past Alistair's feebly flapping hands. He gave up. If she knocked herself out, it would save them from more exclamation marks.

"Right, let's just get go – don't salute! Let's just get going."

"The horse, Warden Commander is for…" she began, when Alistair felt a familiar prickle at the base of his neck – a feeling he had not felt for several months. Drawing his sword, he glanced quickly around him. Jowan had already drawn his own sword.

"To arms!" Alistair cried. "Darkspawn!"

The ground exploding in blackened fiends, the air filling with their eerie hooting and their decaying stench was almost a relief to him.