IT'S JUST THE FIRST FAREWELL
Dragon 31
5 days prior to the final battle
It's not the end,
it's just the first farewell.
The darkspawn's horror had slithered into every beating heart, the stink of the Archdemon had invaded every soul, and that night every woman, man and child could almost hear the flapping of it wings. Every single inhabitant of Ferelden was holding his breath, waiting for the dawn and for their saviors to begin their march. They waited for the army to fight for the sake of every living being.
But for Neria and Loghain, that night was their last sparkle of freedom. In the dark there are no shadows. At dawn, she would have to show the world Warden Surana, the shining General of the Ferelden army, the inspiration for every terrified soldier and civilian; he would have to don his armor and become the Hero of River Dane again. But as long as the moon hung in the sky, they could forget about the world outside and live in the narrow realm of their entwined bodies. There, she could be the scarred woman she in truth was; there, he could be so much more than the traitor of the country. That night, they found each other more than one time; they drove away reality through each other's touch, the binding of their hands and the exchange of secret smiles. They spit right in the Archdemon's face, banishing him from their minds. And even when sleep claimed them, in their dreams they clung to the illusion that maybe dawn would never have triumphed.
When they opened their eyes, waking from their dreams of freedom, the dark still reigned; but a faint, milky light started to paint shadows and give substance to their first farewell. The first day of battle had begun. They used their own heartbeat to fight their fear inch by inch. They deflected every hit, but for every inch earned, a piece of reality kicked in. Second by second, an unsettling, sickly sunlight found its way beneath the curtains and into the room. Now, Neria could distinguish her robe, piled on the floor along with the orchid-shaped head of her staff, its petals crafted in sharp, cutting metal just like the orchid-styled decorations along the pole, dipped in venom. He could no longer ignore his armor anymore. The sunlight could not hide that symbols of duty. In the end, even the sound of people moving around the castle reached their ears. The spell had been broken.
Redcliffe woke up enveloped in a milky fog. The sun had risen, but its rays were imprisoned beneath foggy banks and could do nothing more than distinguish the world from day and night. The tepid heat of spring had been stolen and replaced with a chilling cold. The elven servants stared apprehensively at the fog, all of them afraid that it might turn green and start vomiting living skeletons, just as it had months earlier. No window was opened—everyone was secretly afraid to be taken prisoner by that fog. That first day of battle seemed more of a ghastly omen, than hope for their future. Redcliffe had witnessed a sunrise's parody.
Submerged in that unhealthy light, every soldier in the castle left the comforting embrace of blanket and mattress, knowing there would be none during their march. Each wore their vests, clasped their armor and polished their blade, greased their bow against rain and humidity. On their beds made of leaves and terrain, the werewolves smelled the wrongness in the air and frowned. When King Bhelen's dwarven army made its way through the fog, Redcliffe's villagers mistook them for undead coming for their blood. Knight-Commander's Greagoir and his Templars perceived anegative vibration, without being able to link it to any source of magic.
Neria and Loghain armed themselves against the rest of the world. She covered her body with Morrigan's robes, its power humming on her skin. Then, helped Loghain clasp every piece of armor to the other. He ran his hands through her locks before gathering them in a practical bun. Neria grabbed her staff, Loghain sheathed his sword and held his shield. Warden Surana, the shining General of Ferelden army, the inspiration for every terrified soldier and civilian, and the Hero of River Dane, were ready to walk towards war and death.
Dragon 31
3 days prior the final battle
The fog had thinned soon after the army's departure. It was an improvement that immediately cheered every soldier. Now, they could see the road ahead and maybe reach for victory a little easier. Redcliffe Village had cheered their heroes, called them their saviors. Every single warrior took pride in being part of Ferelden's destiny. Neria herself had felt her heart warm by their trust. However,, Arl Eamon, Loghain, Greagoir and every veteran stopped smiling the moment Redcliffe Village fell behind.: They recognized their own march as a road to death, possibly for all of them. They were aware of how the witnessing of dead bodies and burned houses might impact the morale. And with the taint, it was more than likely that ahead the situation was even worse. They would stumble into entire regions where no, people, animals, nor plant shad a chance to resist.
The taint's spectacle was set in motion a few miles ahead of Redcliffe Village. The few people living beyond the Arling's borders could not count on military protection, apart from some scattered patrols. The army faced their first corpses, the same image of what was to come in a matter of days. There was little doubt that the eyes of the young girl whose intestines had been ripped out would haunt the dreams of the youngest soldiers. But, for the most part, the road remained deserted. There was time enough to exorcise the occasional horrific sights, thanks to the kind words of a comrade-in-arms.
The army entered Lothering three days after their first step towards battle. Crumbling houses, farm animals so slim that their bones were pressing on their skin, putrescent fields where carrots and potatoes had been replaced by dozens of deep mushrooms. Bodies were half-submerged in Lake Calendhad's water and others whose skin was covered with the dark web of the taint, their mouths opened in death. It was if they had been screaming while trying to answer the call boiling inside their blood, as the horror growing inside them had finally possessed their very soul. One of Arl Eamon's apprentice healers traveling with the army threw up, while his older master, his hand carefully covered with a rag, knelt down to close those mad, dead eyes. One werewolf smelled the man once, immediately retreating; a whine escaped his jaws. The soldiers responsible for the supplies' wagons close the cart's curtain carefully, as if the taint could pollute their food from a distance.
That was when the whispering began. Neria, Loghain, and Riordan heard the soldiers wondering what it took for the taint to make its way into their bodies. Neria asked herself what they would have said, if they had known that the Wardens, their very supposed saviors, were tainted as well. Arl Eamon and Greagoir summoned them to warn them that the men were terrified. Not knowing how to preserve themselves from the taint, they inspected each other bodies, searching for any sign of illness.
So, the Wardens stepped up. First, they made clear to the soldiers that the taint could not be cured. Therefore, everyone was responsible for himself, and were to avoid tainted blood or fluids in general. Whoever was found tainted, would be executed immediately.
Riordan explained the risks, what the contaminated blood could bring along; he told the soldiers about the voice they would hear if infected and how their temperament would become rabid. Loghain trained the troops in fighting while keeping a certain distance from the enemy, to avoid being bitten. At the same time, he instructed them to always wear gloves and cover their skin as much as possible. Neria worked with the Arl's healers, teaching them how to use deep mushroom as an ingredient for health and stamina poultices. She wasn't the most patient teacher and struggled with that task. Since she had learned healing magic only out of necessity, she didn't possess a healer's mindset.
No one wanted to make camp in Lothering, and to tell the truth, the army's leaders all agreed. So, the Ferelden army kept marching. In the end, they set camp near South Reach. The area had been overrun by darkspawn at the beginning of the Blight, but now that the Archdemon was plotting its final assault, the enemy was nowhere near. The leaders chose to not cross South Reach's border. That way, the sight of another massacre would have been spared to the soldiers. One was enough for today.
§§
As soon as the army reached South Reach's border, the Arl, King Bhelen and Greagoir ordered their men to erect their tents, while the werewolves were sent to patrol the Brecilian Forest's boundary under Swiftrunner's guide. Up to that point, the army had not met any darkspawn nor had the Wardens perceived any nearby, but now it was a different matter—they had arrived at the last major settlement before Denerim and coming in contact with the horde's scouts was entirely possible.
While the troops were setting camp, lighting the torches and arranging their dinner, the Wardens summoned a tactical meeting. Loghain, Neria and Riordan had set down the map on two big trunks put together. Wooden markers were placed on top, representing the armies. The Wardens sat in silence, , clearly lost in their own dark thoughts. Silence meant not hearing bad news, not having to talk about the Archdemon.
Sadly, silence was not an option. Riordan was the one who broke it. "It showed up in my dreams. Its voice was truly awful. I thought my head was going to explode," the elder Warden stated.
"Same here," Neria whispered in response. She remembered all too well how well she and Loghain had been awakened at the same time by that same nightmare. She shot a quick glance at Loghain, without a word.
Riordan stated the obvious, hideous truth. "Should I fail, you both must be ready to hunt the beast down and strike."
A quick glimpse of discomfort passed on Loghain's face. Nonetheless, he reassured the older Warden. "Have no fear, Riordan."
Neria, swallowing a knot of unease and heartache, simply nodded. She couldn't help but think back on Morrigan and her offer with something very similar to regret. Before she could fall into a well of despair, her gaze caught the other Grey Wardens'. Their looks were an embrace of trust and harmony. They may not have much more time, but they were in it together and their bond was growing stronger and stronger. In that moment, their allies entered the tent, bringing the reality of war with them.
Alistair was the first to set foot inside, as his noble birth and rank required. As if he had sensed the bond connecting the three Wardens, he bitterly twisted his mouth.
One moment later, the tent was crowded. All these men and women were allies, but they still looked uncomfortable with each other. The Lady of the Forest attracted other bewildered looks, Bhelen Aeducan's presence dazed the present humans, and the humans were cautious even around each other. After all, this was an unusual army. The werewolves were new to everyone, the dwarves had holed themselves up in Orzammar for years and the Templars were better known for guarding Circles then for their presence on the field. However, the long march and the horrors they had witnessed washed away their mutual skepticism. They had found common ground. They may have underestimated the Blight before, but now they had seen its expansion firsthand.
The three Wardens stood up at the same time. Neria began the meeting.
"So, let's cut the chase," she started. "We have been marching for three days now, and nearing Denerim. We could encounter the horde anytime considering that we travel faster than them, thanks to horses and brontos. As you are all well aware, we plan to cut in front of the horde before it can smash Denerim's gates." The mage's finger walked through the portion of the West Road the army had not yet covered. "To do so, we can't follow the West Road for all its length." She fell silent, looking briefly at Loghain. She gave him the floor, as planned.
"If you take a closer look at the map, you can see a thin stretch running straight from where we are now, right beside the River Drakon River. I studied this section of the map, compared it both with the ones available at Redcliffe Castle and a geography tome. Looks like that's a mountain pass, which leads not far from Drakon Tower and Denerim. King Aeducan," he asked the dwarf, "can you confirm? You're the most experienced in the matter of mountainous paths."
Bhelen briefly glanced at the spot Loghain was pointing to. "You can bet on it, Warden. It's a good thing that Warden Surana gave Orzammar's crown to the best candidate, because unlike Harrowmont I've always treasured the merchants and the dwarves living outside Orzammar's gates, regardless of their caste. And that's why I can confirm it. That's indeed a mountain pass, large enough to lead the horses through. However," he paused for a second, "it's not large enough to accommodate the entire army. Not if we don't want to be horribly slowed down."
"Which we cannot afford," murmured Alistair. He thoughtfully stared at the map. When he lift his face, his expression darkened. "We need to split the army up. That's our best shot. I don't like the idea, but I believe we need to take the risk. We can plan it carefully enough to make it work."
"Redcliffe stands with King Alistair," Arl Eamon announced.
"It's risky, yes. But," Riordan cut in, "Loghain, Neria, weren't you talking about a pincer movement when we were in Redcliffe? This is the perfect situation to carry out that kind of tactic. We could stop the horde and take them by surprise. Even though at some point, they'll become aware of the section of army marching on the West Road, they won't expect a lateral charge. We just need to plan the timing very, very precisely, because without the back-up of the other half of the army, the men on the West Road will very likely perish. Both contingents need to reach the meeting spot between the mountain pass and the West Road," he pointed to the spot between Drakon River's course and the West Road, before it turned towards Dragon Peak. "This will happen at dawn of the second and last marching day."
"Not to brag," Bhelen cut in, "but I should be guiding the mountain pass' contingent. You said it yourself, I'm the mountainside man." The dwarf grinned, somewhat amused.
"Not to brag," Bhelen cut in, "but I should be guiding the mountain pass' contingent. You said it yourself, I'm the mountainside man." The dwarf grinned, somewhat amused.
Neria quietly listened. She had made a point to avoid talking about tactics and strategy without being sure that she wasn't about to say something stupid or extremely obvious. As a mage, though, she knew how much of a pain in the ass emissaries could be. "Knight-Commander. You should split your men, in order to ensure that both contingents have efficient protection against emissaries."
At first, the Templar stared at her without talking. It was obvious that he was studying her. "I'm glad that you're aware of the damage magic can do. I agree with you, Warden. I'll name one of my men as commander of the second Templar group."
"If I may," Arl Eamon spoke, "we need the West Road's contingent to be more heavily armed, while the..." he frowned, "let's call it the Drakon River brigade, should be composed of more subtle, ambush-trained soldiers. My men definitely fall into the West Road brigade."
"We have three golems at our disposal, Warden. I can consign two of the control rods to whoever will lead the West Road brigade." offered King Bhelen.
"Then the werewolves will split beneath the two brigades. Swiftrunner will lead them while traveling along the Drakon River pass. This way, both forces should be balanced. Do you agree, Wardens?" the Lady of the Forest inquired.
The very idea to separate the army made Neria uneasy. Sadly, the more the leaders talked the more she had to agree: it was the only way.
"I endorse this plan and the division of the forces. If you all agree, I will split the supply carts equally. Riordan? Neria?" Loghain asked, turning towards the other two Wardens.
Neria nodded, just like Riordan. The Orlesian Warden added "There's a detail to discuss. But first, I'll let you finish, Loghain. I can see you're not done."
The former Teyrn resumed speaking. "Considering the different... purposes of the two brigades, Arl Eamon, Bann Teagan, King Alistair and myself should be part of the West Road contingent. King Bhelen, Neria, Riordan and Greagoir should lead the army through the mountain pass."
Neria opened her mouth to speak, but she found herself unable to utter a single sound. She would not march with Loghain? There was no trace of turmoil in his voice. How could he propose something like that so calmly?
"No," Arl Eamon steely declared. "King Alistair will travel with the mountain pass brigade. The West Road route is the most risky, and nobody wants another Cailan tragedy. Plus, if we die and the King lives, hope will burn in the soldiers' hearts." The Arl's jaw clenched. He wasn't clearly going to take no for an answer.
"What?" Alistair burst out. "I'm not here to stay safe, Eamon! I'm here to fight just like any other soldier!"
"There won't be another Cailan tragedy!" Loghain bellowed. Then he continued, a lot more calmy. "All due respect, you should listen to the Arl, Your Majesty," he quietly remarked, fixing his icy gaze on Alistair. "His reasoning makes sense. You will fight all the same, because none of us will have the luxury to be sheltered. Rest assured."
A glimpse of surprise enlightened Eamon, Teagan and Alistair's faces. As Neria tamed her own shock and her usual poise kicked in, she read it all on their faces—they were all surprised to hear the 'traitor' speak favorably of the King's safety.
"Fair enough," Alistair gave in, even though a bit reluctantly.
"There's one more thing," said Riordan, extending a look to all present. "Let's not forget about the Archdemon. Any Grey Warden can sense both the beast and the darkspawn. Every group should bring two Wardens along. My King," Riordan shot a glance at Alistair, who was already opening his mouth to reply, "I know you... left the Wardens, but you can still sense our enemy all the same. If you join the mountain pass' brigade, I will pair with Loghain and join with the West Road. And lastly, I ask for a private audience with you. I understand we are done here, is that right? As of now, we can only sleep and pray to the Maker." He shot Neria and Loghain a knowing look, and left with Alistair. Afterwards, the other leaders began abandoning the tent one by one.
§§
Neria stood tall, l like a tree planted firmly in the ground, her hand holding the wooden markers tight. She was waiting to be the left alone, to throw away her confident façade. She focused on the map, but felt her resolve cracking already. When heavy steps neared and a long shadow covered the map, she didn't look up.
"Listen..." Loghain started, his tone caring and calm,"can we talk?"
She had no idea how to reply. Talk about what? What was she supposed to say? She had no idea what he expected to hear, and she was damn afraid to say the wrong thing, to burst into a rage, tears or anything that could drive him away. So, she resorted to her best defense: self-control. But when she raised her eyes, her resolve turned to dust. Awkwardness and indecisiveness were clearly written all over his face. Neria found herself speechless. A couple of times Loghain had been scared, or even uncertain, but she had never seen him this disoriented before.
He clearly had taken her silence as a yes, because he spoke again. "You're not angry, are you?" he asked, hesitantly.
The mere thought of being separated from him filled her with rage. She frowned and opened her mouth to talk, but fell silent when he raised his hands in resignation. "Fine. Fine. You are, and mine was a stupid question. I should have known."
Slowly, she began to relax a bit, but her expression became none the sweeter.
Loghain sighed, looking away in embarrassment and took a couple of uneasy steps away. Then, he turned towards her once again and resumed his speech. "Look, if there was another solution I would have proposed it." As he continued, he touched her hands lightly. "I don't enjoy the idea more than you, Neria, but it's necessary. You're a smart woman, so you're certainly aware of it. But..." he gently caressed her palms, "I can understand your resentment."
They were at the crossroad once again—honesty versus detachment. Honesty had earned her his affection, but this time, she wasn't sure he could really understand. He was the heroic one, the man ready to do right by his country, while she was brooding about her own fears. Suddenly, she realized that he had accepted her whole, virtues and vices. She couldn't possibly lose him over that matter.
"It's just that," she confessed, "I feel ashamed, Loghain. The rest of the world is focused on the invasion that could destroy us all, and here I am, ruminating about my own feelings and craving to be your number one priority instead of bowing to the greater good..." Too terrified of having said something too much, Neria held her breath and waited.
At first, he didn't speak at all. He quietly caressed the skin under the velvet sleeves, then weaved their fingers together. His hands reached her waist and held her hips, pulling her closer. His breath tickled her ear. "If you traveled south from South Reach and across the Southron Hills, you would reach the Brecilian Passage. At the end of it, you will meet Gwaren's strong walls. The only entrance is a single, round-shaped gate, whose central, upper section is a spike pointing towards the sky. Even from outside, you could admire its guard towers and their domes. Gwaren's architecture is like the Amarantine Ocean flowing through her, gentle-curved like sea waves." Slowly, she threw her arms around his neck, and he kissed her forehead. "If we could leave this war behind us, I would take you to Gwaren right now and personally show you my town." His voice cringed with bitterness. "If there was even the tiniest chance, I would do anything in my power to make you my number one priority, because..." he hesitated. "You have been the first in years who has bothered to wonder who I am, what I want and the reasons behind my actions. For the rest of the world, I'm the Hero of River Dane. Just a symbol, not a person." Loghain sighed. "I'm aware we can't afford any of that, I know that we may never cross Gwaren's gate side by side, but I can't repress that desire. As you see, I myself am far from perfect."
Neria listened to every word. She concentrated on his description so intensely that she could almost see Gwaren. She realized she desperately wanted to see that city, because that's where he had spent the bulk of his life. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, her face buried into his neck. She loved how perfectly her face fit in between his neck and his shoulder. "I know you are not perfect, that you're a man and not a symbol. It's just that... even if some of your actions may not always have been commendable, your intentions have always been pure. I've never met someone as amazing as you."
Loghain stared at her, a thoughtful look on his face. He began caressing her back, slowly, quietly. When he began telling his tale, his tone lowered. "Once, when I a young boy, the Orlesians came to collect taxes. Unfortunately, we had no money left. So, they restrained me and my father while the officer claimed his taxes by raping my mother. When he was done with her, he cut her throat." A flash of anger and helplessness darkened his face, as if he was reliving the moment. He continued, slower than before. "Many years later, I brought Maric to the rebels' camp. He was just a boy, but he was the son of the Rebel Queen nonetheless. The usurpers' men came for him. To take him to safety, I had to leave my father behind. I had to watch those monsters murder him." He looked beyond her shoulder, his voice became distant. "I knew our camp was condemned anyway, that sooner or later they would have come for Maric. It didn't stop me from craving vengeance every single step of my life." Loghain blinked, and now he was seeing her again, instead of his memories. He briefly smiled, as if the sight of her soothed his wounds. "All my life, I've been armed with my loyalty to Maric and my hate. So, now you know you're not the only one who was carried away by negative feelings."
Neria was surprised to notice how he seemed somewhat apprehensive. But she couldn't help but admiring him even more. While she had desired to make her parents pay, he had lived with their memory sealed into his heart. And then, she understood. The West Road brigade would march into eye of the storm. He didn't want to put her in danger, to have her by his side as the horde would have charged. He didn't want to relive what had happened with his father. Without thinking, she stood on tiptoe and gently pressed her lips on his, a touch lacking in the urgency of their first night together. In response, he pulled her against his chest, deepening the kiss. He bit her lip, sweetly enough to not make her crave for more. Not just yet. She pulled back only enough for her to talk, her breath still on his lips. "I'll never ask you to be perfect," she promised in a soft whisper. "Riordan and I could easily exchange, but I won't ask for it. I understand, you don't want me to be in the middle of the battle. You wish to protect me. Just..." she clutched her nails into the back of his neck, a plea filling her eyes, "...come back to me. Promise me you will."
Reacting to her intense gesture, Loghain ran his hands along her hips. This time, his touch burned with desire: his fingers fondled her skin with urgency. He locked eyes with hers, a burning passion rising inside them. "I will come back to you. I promise." He slid his hands under her bottom, lifting her from the ground without any effort.
"Someone may come searching for us," the mage whispered, while circling his waist with her legs. Despite her own warning, she was already unclasping his armor, eager to savor that stolen moment of freedom. Of happiness.
"Let them come. I don't care," he murmured into her mouth before laying her down.
