12. MEMORIES: A DISASTER AND ITS AFTERMATH
"Perhaps the inauspicious beginning should have warned us that Cailan's plans would fail. It was supposed to be a trivial task: simply cross the bridge, climb the stairs to the top of the tower, and light the beacon at the appointed time. Alistair was quite annoyed not to be fighting in the battle, but…I suppose that Ferelden might well have fallen had we not been sent to the tower, as things turned out.
As soon as we made our way there, we encountered guards fleeing the tower, saying that it had been overrun by Darkspawn. I imagine they must have tunneled in from below. So it was left for the two new Wardens, my faithful hound, and a circle mage we found at the gate—I can't recall the poor fellow's name? Do you remember, Alistair? No? I'm a little ashamed to have forgotten. He was a great help. We would never have reached the top of the tower without his magical aid, imbuing our weapons with cold, paralyzing the dangerous emissaries…he deserved to be honored, not forgotten.
Making our way through the tower was no small challenge, as all three of the lower floors were filled with darkspawn—there must have been several dozen, including a number of spellcasters. And we were in a hurry, as well. There was no time for cautious games, advancing from behind cover, using ranged weapons as we so often did elsewhere. We were forced to take them on head on. Desperate to make our way to the top in time, we fought without the slightest break. I don't think I've ever been more tired in my life.
Finally, we managed to emerge on to the top of the tower only to find the beacon guarded by a huge ogre, which was like nothing we had ever fought before. At least I hadn't. No, you hadn't either? I didn't think so. It is fortunate that—thus far—ogres are relatively uncommon. An army of them would be well nigh unstoppable. I coated my weapons with poison, tried running around the back of him, ran away when he reared back for his devastating attacks. It was terrifying. Since then, of course, I have fought many ogres, some greater ones, but the first one was the most memorable. I believe I came close to losing Alistair right there when it picked him up and grabbed him. But it was badly wounded by then, and I was able to deliver the coup de grace from behind. It then dropped him and collapsed on top of him. I think that was the first sign I had of how durable he is—I am sure I would have been crushed had it been me.
The ogre conquered, I ran to light the beacon in triumph with the last of my energy. But then more darkspawn came up the stairs, many more. Blackness came in a hail of arrows and my last thought was that at least we had succeeded in our task, though we lost our lives. Surely, Loghain's charge would win the day and destroy the Darkspawn horde.
When I finally awoke, days—weeks?—later, it was Morrigan of all people, at my bedside. It took me a while to realize where I had met her before. I was somewhat disoriented. And then, I learned the awful truth. It had all been for naught. Loghain had ignored our hard-won signal and retreated, leaving the King's army—and all the rest of the Grey Wardens—to perish.
Ser Cauthrien assured me, much later, that he did see the signal, but told her the battle was already lost. I don't know if she really believes that or not. I don't think we were too late, do you, my love? I know we only had an hour, but we had moved as quickly as humanly possible. Maybe there were just too many Darkspawn and Ferelden's forces too few, though I would have thought the narrow valley an ideal site to fight a superior force. It's unknowable now.
Morrigan told me that Flemeth had changed into a giant bird and plucked us from the top of the tower. Why wouldn't I believe it? Honestly, I'd believe almost anything when it comes to Flemeth. That old woman—or whatever she is…well, she rescued and healed us.
Why? That's a good question, and one that even Morrigan seemed not to have a ready answer for. What she told us was that she couldn't allow all the Grey Wardens to perish, that they were needed to fight the Blight. Even she would be ultimately be overcome, if the Archdemon won, or so she said.
Whatever her reasons, she saved both of us and nursed us back to health. Sadly, the Circle Mage who had helped us reach the beacon had not been saved. I don't know if he was already dead when Flemeth arrived or whether she simply had no interest in him because he was not a Warden.
No, she didn't rescue Conal. I haven't the faintest notion of how Conal managed to escape the tower when we were overwhelmed by Darkspawn, nor how he succeeded in finding his way to Flemeth's hut. What can I say? Mabari hounds are smart. Sometimes I think the only reason they don't talk is that they are too intelligent to be bothered with such a trivial accomplishment.
Alistair was rather distraught and Morrigan's attitude did not help matters. My poor dear had lost…well…the closest thing he had ever really had to a family and a sense of belonging when all the other Wardens were slain at Ostagar. It was not so different, in a way, from what had befallen me. But Morrigan could not understand that, owing to her peculiar upbringing. If the only family—practically the only person—you had ever known were Flemeth, you might not have been able to understand grief either.
Yes, I do defend her. Of course she kept herself apart, setting up camp as far from the rest of us as possible. Can you imagine what a noisy, teeming crowd we must have seemed to her? She was used to living in a forest with only one other person. And yes, she was often rude and insensitive, but where would she have learned manners and sensitivity? From Flemeth?
And it wasn't like the rest of you made any great attempt at understanding. Leli, I know you meant well, but trying to draw her into discussions of religion was not very tactful on your part. Think about what it would be like to grow up as an apostate mage, with the Templars hunting you and your mother…it's hardly surprising that talk of the Maker wasn't exactly endearing. And my dear, there was hardly a time when you managed a civil exchange with her—and while she was certainly partly to blame for that, you were no better. I know Morrigan was difficult, and I often—perhaps even usually—disagreed with her, but I do think that the rest of us could have worked harder at trying to be understanding. Her lack of experience with people made it hard for her to even attempt to comprehend us, though I think she came to respect me eventually, after a fashion.
Sorry, I got off track there…as I was saying, Alistair was—understandably-having a hard time reconciling himself to the fact that we were the Wardens left in Ferelden, and Morrigan and Flemeth were notably unsympathetic. In fact, Flemeth insisted on pushing us out into the world to stop the Blight pretty much as soon as I was able to walk. Us, including Morrigan, of course, much to Alistair's dismay. But the way I saw it, whatever her motives, Flemeth had saved our lives and while Morrigan might not have been the most affable of companions, she was undeniably a useful one.
And so, off we went, three people and a hound bound for Lothering to get some supplies in preparation for our quest to save the world, with Alistair and Morrigan bickering all the way. Upon arriving in Lothering, we found that things were even worse than we thought. But then, Lothering is also where we met a certain Orlesian bard, so the rest of the story is familiar to you."