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Chapter 3 – More Crazy
"That's…very kind of you, Flemeth," began Sara uncertainly, her eyes flitting between Morrigan and her mother. Alistair's eyes bulged incredulously at her use of the word "kind."
"More like 'sick and twisted'," he muttered under his breath.
"But if Morrigan does not wish to join us," Sara continued more loudly, "I would not force it upon her."
Her noble upbringing had instilled in her the knowledge that sometimes saying what one actually thought, in this case, 'I know you saved us and everything, but pushing your unusual and contentious daughter on us is a bit much,' was unwise.
"Nonsense," said Flemeth, waving her hand. "Unless the world has changed very much in the past ten seconds, I am correct in saying that you will need all of the help you can get."
Sara sighed – there was no denying that. In the span of several hours, Loghain had left King Cailan and the Wardens to be slaughtered by darkspawn, and she and Alistair had gone from being the two most junior to the two most senior Wardens in Fereldan. She could not even begin to wonder how they were going to not only convince the mages, dwarves, and Dalish elves that they were Wardens, but also that they were obligated to aid them.
"Very well," said Sara, rubbing her face with her hands. "I suppose you have nothing to say about this?" she asked, now looking to Morrigan.
"As if 'twould matter at all," the witch remarked. "Let me…get my things," she said in a resigned voice before she re-entered the hut.
"Flemeth could have asked us to be her slaves for life but noo-oo," whispered Alistair, "she had to force her upon us instead." His distaste was almost palpable.
Sara nodded. Alistair, she'd noticed, had a flair for the dramatic, but he'd inadvertently hit upon something that bothered her very much indeed – namely, why did Flemeth insist so strongly that her only daughter join them on this life-threatening and most likely life-ending journey?
Morrigan exited the hut, looking no happier than Sara felt.
"Let us move along then," she said. "I suggest a small village north of here to purchase supplies. Unless, of course, 'tis your wish that I do not share my suggestions."
Before Alistair could open his mouth and take advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Sara raised her voice and said,
"No, please share your advice. We are unfamiliar with this region."
Morrigan once again looked at her with that flicker of curiosity, but only nodded and turned away from them, heading into the Wilds once more.
xxx
"You migh' not wanna go in there," a dusty-looking fellow outside of Dane's Refuge advised them.
"Why's that, friend?" asked Sara, toning down her normally formal way of speaking in an attempt to blend in. They'd found out the hard way – that is, when attempting to threaten their way past a group of bandits by saying that they were Grey Wardens – that Loghain, in an attempt to strengthen his lies that the Wardens killed King Cailan, had placed a hefty bounty on their heads.
"Soldiers," he answered. "Loghain's, I reckon. Mean' to aid the refugees, but," he lowered his voice and looked around, "they ent doin' much but drinkin' and threatenin' folks. Killed a man for lookin' at them wrong," he added, eyebrows raised.
The Warden frowned – she wasn't one to take stock in gossip, but even the most outrageous rumors often had a grain of truth.
"Well-taken," she said, nodding. "Unfortunately, we've got to see about some rooms. Thanks for the warning."
"Don' mention it," he responded, tipping his head. "G'day."
Sara never intended to actually look for rooms at Dane's. Lothering was bursting at the seams with refugees fleeing the darkspawn that were rapidly advancing through the Wilds, and she suspected there would be no room at the inn even if they'd been interested. But if what this man said was true and Loghain's cronies were exercising their power in bloody ways…well, she didn't take kindly to that.
The four of them entered the tavern and were met head-on by the stench of an establishment long overcrowded. Working hard to ignore the smell, she stepped farther into the inn as Morrigan made retching sounds in the background. She spotted a group of armored soldiers pushing around a rather helpless-looking man as they grinned lecherously at a woman next to him.
Sara felt an almost uncontrollable rage flare up within her. She reached out and tapped the soldier nearest her on the shoulder.
"Is there a problem here?" she asked, working hard to keep her overwhelming anger from her voice.
"'ere's another lookin' the join the fun!" the solder called out to his fellows. "An' what's your name sweetheart?" He stumbled as he attempted to grope her. Sara stepped back, crinkling her nose. He reeked of alcohol and something else unpleasant that she couldn't identify.
She heard the subtle yet distinct sound of Alistair drawing his sword as he stepped to her side.
"Careful where you place your hands," he said quietly, his eyes flashing. Sara laid a hand on his arm and gave him a hard look. He met her eyes and relaxed slightly, clenching his jaw but refusing to look away from the captain.
She turned back to soldier and opened her mouth, but before she could speak, another man cut in.
"Oi!" he yelled, "Captain!"
An armored man near the bar looked up and began approaching them.
"Ent we been asking all around town for a pair jus' like this?" he asked as the Captain approached.
"Indeed we have," he murmured, looking between Alistair and Sara. "It appears that the people of Lothering would rather harbor traitors to the late king than serve their own kingdom!" he called, spreading his arms toward the people in the inn. Silence fell on the room.
"Wardens," he growled, turning back to the group. "You are about to make me a very rich man."
Sara stepped back and dropped her hands instinctively to her daggers. She once again heard the quiet hiss of Alistair's sword and saw, from the corner of her eye, a small fireball appear in Morrigan's hand.
"Wardens? Ha," she laughed weakly. "No, you're mistaken, we've- we're…" she sighed. "Damnit."
She drew her daggers and lunged forward, but she was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a young woman.
"Wait," she said, stepping between the captain and the Wardens' group.
Sara drew up short, bewildered.
"The darkspawn have taken enough of our people," she said, her voice colored by an Orlesian accent. "More bloodshed is not the answer."
Sara eyed the redheaded woman suspiciously – she was wearing Chantry robes, which she supposed accounted for her naivety.
"Please," the sister added, looking earnestly at Sara.
Sara lowered her daggers slowly and stepped out of her fighting stance.
"Thank you," said the redhead, bowing slightly to both parties. "I am Leliana," she told the Wardens' group, "a lay-sister of the Chantry."
"Enough of this," spat the guard captain. "Loghain has ordered that any Wardens be taken to Denerim on charges of treason," he looked threateningly at Alistair and Sara, "dead or alive."
He turned back to his group. "Capture the Wardens and kill the others," he said, drawing his sword.
Sara raised her daggers but was distracted by that damn redhead once more.
"Weapon!" she called frantically.
"Pack!" Sara responded, throwing herself at the captain.
While Sara battled the captain, Alistair and the others disposed of his men. Only after he'd lost all but two of his company, the captain dropped his sword and held up his shield.
"Wait!" he called, panting. "We surrender. I do not wish any more of my men to die," he added, looking regretfully at the bodies of the other soldiers.
"You do not wish-" Sara began in a choked voice. She inhaled deeply and continued in a strangled whisper. "You do not wish any more of your men to die?" she asked incredulously. In three long strides, Sara pushed him back against the wall unforgivingly, pressing against his breastplate with one hand and holding a dagger to his neck with the other.
"When has that ever made a difference!" she screamed at him, pressing her dagger harder. A drop of blood trickled down his neck where her weapon had pierced his skin.
"Warden," a voice said gently in her ear. She turned to see the sister looking at her with heart-breaking earnest in her clear, blue eyes. She laid her hand on Sara's arm, "These men have surrendered. There is nothing to be gained from killing them." Leliana could see the muscles working in the Warden's jaw as she turned back and stared at the guard captain, her face inches from his.
"Fine," she growled, the tension in her shoulders releasing visibly as she slowly relaxed her hold on her weapon. Leliana's hand fell from her arm as she stepped back and shrugged it off.
"Thank you," she said gently.
"I did not do it for you," Sara told her bluntly, her eyes burning. "But because enough Fereldan blood has already been shed." She turned back to the captain. "The darkspawn are the threat, not the Wardens. And you-" and idea came to her. "You will take a message to Loghain."
"Y-yes," stammered the captain, pressing a hand to the cut on his neck.
"Tell him the Wardens know what really happened," she said, the grip on her dagger tightening once more, "and he cannot run from justice."
"Yes, Serah," the captain bowed at Sara. "We will inform him at once. Men!" he called to those of his company still alive. They had left the inn by the time Sara re-sheathed her dagger.
She walked to the bar and sank gratefully onto one of the stools.
"I need a drink," she muttered to Alistair as he sat next to her, Dani on her other side. Morrigan was, as usual, placing as much distance between herself and the rest of the group as possible.
"Tell me about it," he sighed. "I can't believe that snake, putting a bounty on our heads. The Wardens killed King Cailan? Is he mad?"
"He may very well be," she began. "He certainly-"
Sara felt a hand on her shoulder and groaned inwardly. Somehow she knew who would be standing there when she turned around. She looked over her shoulder and found, much to her dissatisfaction, that she was right.
"This belongs to you," the sister said, holding out the dagger she'd taken from Sara's pack.
"Thanks," she muttered, taking it from her. "Where does a sister learn to fight like that anyway?" she asked half-heartedly as she signaled to the barman.
"I was not always in the Chantry," she answered evasively.
Sara grunted noncommittally as she lifted the pint she'd just been served to her lips.
"I- I know why you're here," she began hesitantly. "Your quest, I mean. Fighting the Blight."
"I thought we were on a secret mission," Alistair whined to Sara in a hushed voice.
"I wish to join you. I believe I'm meant to," Leliana continued, either having not heard Alistair's comment or ignoring it entirely. Sara continued to stare blankly behind the bar as she nursed her pint. The sister took a deep breath. "The Maker sent me a vision instructing me to help you."
Sara choked into her mug, snorting a large and quite painful amount of mead into her nose. She looked sharply to Alistair, whose eyebrows were threatening to disappear into his hair.
"More crazy?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence. "I thought we were all full-up."
"In any case," Morrigan cut in acidly, apparently having been listening the entire time, "you have certainly fulfilled our quota for idiocy. 'Twould not be wise to push that boundary any further."
Sara wiped the copious amounts of mead that had shot out of her nose from her face.
"We…appreciate the offer," she said, finding it hard to hide the derision from her voice, "but I'm afraid we're going to have to decline."
"You've seen me fight," continued Leliana, her voice nearly begging Sara now. "I can be a useful ally. I'm meant to help you," she repeated.
Sara rolled her eyes. "Son of a-" she began exasperatedly.
"Maker," Alistair cut her off.
"Not what I was going to say," she told him. She turned to Leliana, "Those men were going to kill you outright for trying to be peaceful, and still you stayed my hand," she said. "You do realize that our 'quest'," the last word was dripping with condescension, "will involve a great deal of killing."
Leliana nodded resolutely. "And I am willing to help you do it."
Sara sighed and drained the rest of her mug.
"Fine," she said, ignoring Morrigan's protests and pushing away from the bar. She jerked her head towards the door. "But if you become a liability," she paused and looked at the sister with steely eyes, "we will leave you behind."
Leliana gave a small nod and cast her eyes to the ground.
"And hold onto this," Sara muttered, pressing the dagger back into her hands. "It becomes you."
Leliana stared after her momentarily before shaking her head and falling into step behind the others.