Giving Desire her Due

Part Two: Blood Oath

Chapter Thirteen: Death of a Templar

Vhaaja watched with her arms tightly across her chest as her mage fluttered about the room in a half panic, plucking articles of clothing from where they'd been strewn and pulled them on. He stopped only briefly to swear after he apparently stubbed the solid frame of the bed with his toe. She would have found it inappropriately amusing if she wasn't so deeply annoyed. In a few hours they would have been gone and blissfully unaware of Hunter Fell or its immediate dangers, thus not obligated to put themselves in danger. The gods were cruel, allowing this now. She dropped her gaze and took a few steps forward spotting his shirt on the floor. She grasped the garment with her small toes and tossed it into the air, catching it with her hand. The sheet wrapped around her pooled to the floor as she pulled Jowan's tunic on over her bare form, the smell of him easing her frustration. Just a little. Truth be told, she couldn't really find an ounce of give a damn for what happened the villagers. Yet her mage was intent on helping, spells flying if needed. And drawing even more attention to himself. They were suppose to be leaving quietly.

Vhaaja didn't speak as she left the room and made little haste in getting to her own. Jowan had been afraid she would think he was the monster when it was clearly she who held the title. She couldn't force herself to care, but she could go through the motions. Play pretend. Perhaps if she faked it long enough she would actually start to feel it. The word darkspawn filtered up through the open window. She started to feel something then, the promise of a fight quickened her blood. She cast the tunic to the floor and eagerly dressed. Leathers in place, she couldn't help but smile. It was a dark expression, it'd been a long time it seemed since she'd felt the thrill of a challenging kill. There were few things tougher than darkspawn. Hopefully she hadn't lost her knack.

She dropped to the floor on her stomach and extract her bow and quiver from beneath her bed. Energy coursed through her as she touched the runic bow. It recognized her, and she would know the weapon in a room full of replicas. Someday she would get to tell Jowan about her bow, he would marvel at its construction. Appreciate the significance. Most would be satisfied by the fact it was a magic bow, her mage would ask how. Like she had, while it was being made. Next she extracted the dark metal staff she'd acquired on their travels to Hunter Fell. She was now certain it was a sign from the Sky Mother. Of what, Vhaaja couldn't quite discern. It was why the mother was a goddess and she was a mere mortal. Maker be damned, he didn't even love his own children. Vhaaja left the room after pulling the quiver's strap over her shoulder, the remaining items in hand. Impatiently Jowan awaited her in the hall, the tunic he wore a dark maroon. The color did him justice. Vhaaja held the staff out, he'd need a weapon. He took it, but eyed the weapon as if it would bite him.

"A bow-mage's staff is enchanted. In case their shaman has need of it," Vhaaja explained as she started for the staircase.

"I can feel that, its certainly...potent," Jowan commented from behind, the stone carrying his voice.

Vhaaja smirked, "Its not watered down Circle magic like you are used to, no."

"Or lyrium based. The energy off it isn't cool enough."

"We make due with what we have in the Wilds," she replied, then added with a grin, "Try not to hurt yourself with it."

Vhaaja could hear the din of the chaos before she pushed out into the courtyard. Upon closer inspection there was actually a measure of organization to the frantic movements of the knights and soldiers. Over top of the noise boomed Ser Gilmore's clear and confidant commands. He sounded at least like he knew what he was doing, more impressive was the fact that men twice his age were actually following his orders without restraint. The Bann's brother was certainly a man with a gift. A lean towards leadership that Vhaaja had noticed since she'd known him, in particular with the refugees they brought with them to Hunter Fell. It was a quality that his sister should be mindful of, Vhaaja thought.

Horses were lead by stable hands through the forming mob for the handful of knights the Bannorn could afford. They mounted and Vhaaja could finally make out Ser Gilmore now above the majority of people gathered. He noticed her too, almost immediately. His was a fine chestnut steed, but it wasn't a massive warhorse like those she'd seen at Highever that had been bred with fighting in mind. A beaten old mare in Ferelden was an expensive purchase, she could only imagine the cost of the war mounts. Gilmore maneuvered his animal through the mass of soldiers, Helena following in his wake on a smaller bay. When he'd gotten close enough, Vhaaja could see the subtle desperation in his otherwise stoic features. They were both pretending, so it seemed. She and the knight had come to learn each other well since that fateful day in Highever.

And there it was, a pang of give a damn. Not for those that would die, but for those that would have to live with the aftermath. For Gilmore and Helena. Despite their recent fallout she still cared about what happened to them. It was a similar feeling she'd had for her bow-sister, the sense of belonging she'd gotten when they were all together. She'd found it again, without looking. It looked almost as if Gilmore was having a difficulty forming the question Vhaaja knew he wanted to ask. So she interjected instead, pride not being one of her demons, "Would you mind if we tagged along and killed a few darkspawn?"

Relief smoothed out his features. Was he expecting her to be more defiant? Maybe Jowan was all together positive influence on her demeanor, "We need all the help we can get. Its a big band. emissaries, alphas, maybe an ogre."

"Oh my," Vhaaja quipped, relishing the idea of slaughtering them all.

"Magic is always helpful against darkspawn," Gilmore said, glancing towards Jowan. His transgressions could apparently be overlooked in the situation was dire enough. The knight offered Vhaaja a hand, "Thank the Maker the pair of you haven't left yet."

"That is one way to look at it," Vhaaja replied, taking his hand and pulling herself onto the saddle behind him. The wilder managed her fear of the beast out of sheer will, because Jowan too seemed uneasy about the large mammals. Vhaaja smirked, realizing that this might very well be another first for her sheltered Circle mage. It had been a first for her as well none too long before. Gilmore looked back to Helena and jerked his head towards Jowan.

Helena looked as if she was going to refuse at first, but finally sighed, "None of it matters at the moment," she said more for herself then offered him her own hand to help him mount. It was probably the least graceful thing Vhaaja had ever seen. She hoped that she done a shade better. Yet the end result was the same.

"Just like old times," Jowan said, once he was in place.

oOo

It happened all at once. Awful inhuman noises and screams woke the women of the Chantry from their slumber. Lily could hardly recall the order of events jumbled in her mind. There would be time to sort it out later. She hoped. All that mattered were the poor souls streaming into the broken down building and those still left outside. It was hard to believe that the darkspawn had caught them all by surprise, that the village guard had been overtaken so easily. There had been no time for the civilians to make it to the strong stone walls castle. The Chantry had been the closest sanctuary available. Many of the resident sisters had begun to see to the injured while others prayed with villagers for loved ones. One of the mothers was watching over the parentless children that had made it to the Chantry/ More blight orphans, just what every Bannorn needed.

Lily had been given a duty as well. Another pound on the door spurred her to action. She pulled the heavy door open to admit the women. Many men had taken up arms to defend their families, resulting in even more widows. Soon that would be all Ferelden had left. Widows and Blight orphans. These were truly dark days and they weren't nearly over yet. If ever there was a time for the Maker to return his children to his sight it was now. Before the whole world was consumed.

As she closed the door she saw a woman running towards the Chantry with a toddler clutched to her. Following closely behind was a small squat darkspawn with a bow clenched in its twisted hand. Suddenly the genlock stopped and pulled an arrow from its quiver. She wasn't going to make it, came Lily's horrified thought. The next moment the arrow took her in the calf. Why would the darkspawn choose to wound instead of kill her? She pitched forward, the child erupting from her grasp. The woman crawled, dragging herself towards her child by her hands. The darkspawn behind her grabbed the woman's injured leg and began to pull her in the opposite direction. She struggled, but that didn't last long. The genlock turned and kicked the woman with his boot until she stopped, then continued to drag her. Where Lily couldn't fathom, and to do what with was a mystery the sister never wanted solved.

The child, air forced from its lungs by the shock of the fall only began to cry after his mother had been rendered unconscious. Lily's feet were moving before she consciously told them to. Her entire focus was on the child no more than fifty yards from the Chantry's stoop. Try as she might she couldn't make herself run fast enough, the distance had seemed shorter in theory then it had been in reality. She dodged the fallen bodies of men, legs pumping. The smell of entrails hung in the night air, reeking the same as a latrine. There was nothing glorious about death, or pretty. Finally she made it, scooping up the toddler. Without so much as stopping to catch a breath Lily turned and made another dash. This time towards the safety of the Chantry. She focused on the heavy wooden doors this time, and nothing but.

So focused that she slipped on something wet in the grass and tumbled herself to the ground. She wrapped her body as best she could around the boy to protect him from impact. She looked back briefly, and instantly wished she hadn't. What she'd slipped on were the half eaten and fully shredded innards pulled part way from a man's body. A man she'd known. That she seen listening to one the Revered Mother's sermons only a few days before hand. The darkspawn hadn't cared how pious he was, or how much faith he'd had in the Maker. Good. Bad. They'd all died just the same in the face of indiscriminate evil. Her attention was then caught by a greater horror just beyond the man's remains. Something so terrible the child in her arms grew quiet as he too noticed the great hulking darkspawn.

It noticed them too. She moved slowly to get up, but cried out. Pain seared through her left ankle as she applied weight to the appendage. She'd just watched a woman beat unconscious and dragged off. She couldn't let that happen to herself. Its only a twist, Lily convinced herself and forced herself to keep going. She hopped, and limped. Anything to keep pressure off her injury and keep moving toward sanctuary. The rumble of footfall started behind her, getting closer and closer. The ogre persuade them with strides longer than any man's. Even with a head start the beast was quickly gaining, making a path through the bedlam. Almost there, she thought keeping her panic from surfacing. A rush of relief came over Lily as she made it to the doors. Eagerly she banged on them.

And then she banged some more.

But they remained tightly closed. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Lily fought not to be sick. She turned and leaned her back against the wood. She covered the eyes of the child, whispering for him not to look. Lily couldn't watch either, closing her own eyes. She loudly recited the Chant, wishing it as effective as any sword or shield.

"Lily!" She heard suddenly. It was a voice she knew, but hadn't heard since she had resided within the Tower of Magi. Even now as she heard it, her heart fluttered a beat; then she remembered what he was and her heart grew cold. The next thing she heard was a bellow of agony, an ogre in a great deal of pain.

oOo

Jowan put every ounce of will he had behind the spell. Later he'd blame Vhaaja for choosing it over a more familiar winter's grasp. Or maybe it was seeing Lily that placed the spell on the tip of his tongue. Regardless, he'd instinctively started to cast it. He'd only had seconds to stop the charging darkspawn. He felt for the thrum of energy in the ogre's blood and threw his own into it, increasing the tempo. The ogre pulled up short and roared as its blood boiled, paralyzing the creature. From any other beast, the howl would have curled his stomach. Yet he was incapable of even the slightest hint of pity, not surrounded death and destruction. Not surrounded by the very evil darkspawn represented.

Vhaaja ran passed him making a wide circle around the ogre. She chanted for him to hold it as she positioned herself for a decent shot. She nocked an arrow, continuing her plea. Sweat beaded down his brow and ran down the back of his neck as he held the ogre. His vitality steadily drained as he poured it into the darkspawn. He'd have to break it soon, he was already exhausted. They'd fought their way through the majority of the attacking darkspawn to get to the Chantry at the center of the village. The Highever knights had thrown away personal feelings to get the task done. With the aid of his magic and the last inferno spell off Vhaaja's bow they'd managed to clear out most of the darkspawn. Once again the four of them, five if one counted the Mabari, were fighting as a well oiled collective unit to address the tougher darkspawn alphas and emissaries. The other knights and soldiers handled the lesser hurlocks and genlocks.

It howled again and Vhaaja released, sending the arrow up through the palate of his mouth and into his brain. Where it would have killed another creature, the ogre didn't look as if it was ready to give up the fight just yet. In almost the same instant, Helena thrust her blade into the ogre's side. A precise blow where a kidney would have been in a man. With their twisted bodies, it was only a best guess scenario. She jumped back when she pulled the sword free, careful to dance away from the tainted blood that poured from the wound. Just as she was clear, Gilmore brought a powerful horizontal chop low into the ogre, severing the tendon at its heel; crippling the beast.

Jowan couldn't hold it any longer, spots swam in front of his vision. Released, the ogre took a step forward and stumbled to one knee. It was in rough shape, but still refused to die. Taking advantage, Helena barked a command at Gilmore who fell to his own knee and cupped his hands before him. She made a running start, as her foot made contact with his hand Gilmore boosted her jump. Thus allowing her to find purchase on the leather strap that held the ogre's primitive armor on. She plunged her sword between its ribs. Finding its heart, she twisted the blade and pushed herself backwards off the beast with her legs, her warcry hanging in the air.

Jowan concentrated on remaining on his feet. A task that was proving more difficult that it should have been. His mind felt full of itchy wool, thought coming slowly and scratching their way to the surface. His ability to focus seemed impaired as well, mentally as well as physically. Images before him blurred then sharpened randomly. Sluggishly he remembered Lily. She was hurt. She'd been limping. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when he saw the woman with Vhaaja well out of the ogre's way. Lily still clutched the child, now in silent awe. Thank the Maker he was able to save her. His remaining feelings for the woman were murky and confused, twisting around themselves. But he still cared, was thankful that she'd been able to secure a life for herself outside of the Aeonar. Holding that boy with so much care, Jowan was reminded why he'd loved her in the first place. Still did on some levels. Probably always would. But they had dreamed of a farm, fat babies and a life without magic. His life was magic, whether he or anyone liked it or not. The thought of himself working a farm now nearly brought on a fit of laughter in her light-headed state. It'd been a fantasy, destined to fall apart sooner or later.

Jowan's wavering attention returned to the present as he heard the thud of the ogre finally falling dead. Even time passing seemed to slow. The ground beneath his feet rumbled, the vibrations making staying standing just a touch harder. Vhaaja had been right, they did die quicker.

"Are you alright?" Vhaaja asked from his side, her hand at the back of his upper arm. He hadn't realized she'd moved. He started to tell her he was fine, but the world moved on its own forcing him to lean into Vhaaja to help keep himself steady.

"I may have over done it. Just a little," he said. His gaze drifted again to Lily behind Vhaaja. Her eyes watched him with wide terror. She looked almost as if she were more afraid of him than she had been the ogre. She'd been more afraid of him than the Aeonar. At least she was being consistent. She physically stiffened as she noticed his eyes upon her. All at once he was back in the Circle watching her turn away from him in revulsion. Again he was that boy that lived in that damned Tower, the knot of inadequacy wormed its way into his already upset stomach. Vhaaja's hand touched his face and pulled his eyes to meet hers. There was worry there, in those dark recesses. Maybe he was worse off than he thought.

"You don't look well Jowan. You should take some energy from me," she said, moving her other hand to the middle of his back.

He shook his head. He didn't want to do that. He knew how to replenish his energy with that of another, in theory. He'd just never done it before. What if he pulled too much? She made it sound so easy. But how could he live with himself if he accidentally killed her?

"Its tough, knowing your limits at first. The best shamans sometimes push themselves until they are unconscious. There is no shame in it," she said softly, trying to convince him. No there wasn't. For a long time, shame had been the only thing. After everything he'd done, how did he deserve this?

"Is she alright?" he asked, jerking his chin towards Lily. Her eyes narrowed at that and she threw a venomous glare at the woman in question, as if she'd just remembered she existed.

"That's her then? The bitch could at least pretend to be ungrateful-" Vhaaja started, but Jowan cut her off.

"Let her hate me, at least she'll be alive to do it," the knot in his gut untied a bit as he applied his limited focus to the here and now instead of the bygone days of the Circle. He wasn't the same person anymore, "I shouldn't ask this."

"No you shouldn't," she started, expression between amused and annoyed, she then added softly, "I'll stay with her. If you take some of my energy."

"Vhaaja..."

"You are helpless right now. If you won't, then I need to stay with you. She on your priority list not mine."

"What if I take too much?"

"You won't. Because there is a swift kick to the giggle berries waiting for you if you try," she replied with a smirk, making light of what Jowan considered a serious situation.

He nodded finally, she looked a bit angry at his decision at first before her features neutralized. In a thousand years, he would never fully comprehend woman kind. He closed his eyes so he could fully focus on the metaphysical hum of her life energy coursing through her veins. Maker's breath she was fiery and dark, with just a small hint of otherness about her that marked a mage. But of course, she wasn't a mage. Then there was a strangeness, something familiar but he couldn't put his finger upon. They would have to have a talk someday, before the curiosity of what she was undid him. A mystery wrapped in an enigma, one might say.

Carefully he tugged at the energy, pulling a thread of it into himself. He felt stronger instantaneously. He pulled just enough to clear his mind and prevent him from becoming a puddle on the ground if he moved too quickly. He quickly realized why it could be easy to get carried away. As her energy streamed into him, a warmth spread throughout his person. The longer he sipped, the more intense and pleasurable the sensation became. He stopped, opening his eyes to make sure he hadn't harmed the woman that trusted him so innately, even after he'd given her good reason not to. It was a frightening concept that he could enjoy draining her, killing her. The thought of it made him ill.

Movement from the corner of his eye brought his attention to a soldier running towards them. Jowan recognized the blue liquid in his hand. He might not be as done as he thought. The man deposited the vial into Jowan's open hand and ran back to Ser Gilmore to appraise him of the current situation. It seemed to be over, but Gilmore wanted to do one last sweep. Jowan looked back to Vhaaja, placing a hand under her chin and forcing her to look at him. It was very clear in the paleness of her skin and dullness of her eyes that she had been on the losing end of their exchange, "See, I knew it. I didn't want to hurt you."

She shook her head, "You didn't. I just tired, it didn't hurt. I'm in better physical condition than you are anyway," she said before returning to Lily. Vhaaja took the child, a new fantasy formed as he watched. He shook his head, returning his mind to the task at hand. OnestepatatimeJowan, he told himself, shestillhasplentyoftimetogetsickofyou.

oOo

"Who are you, if I may ask?" the woman spoke after a long span of silence. Vhaaja couldn't properly gauge how long, being away from Jowan had become a new form of torture. All she could do was worry. Why had she agreed to watch this woman when her place was at her mage's side. Catty curiosity most likely. Now all she wanted was to be away from her. What if something happened to him while she was babysitting his former lover?

As soon as the immediate threat of the ogre had passed the Revered Mother had allowed the doors opened. Once inside, Vhaaja had half wanted to declare Lily safe and leave her to her own devices. But she'd promised to look after her. She wouldn't fail Jowan. It was a character building opportunity really. They sat on the floor away from the others, Vhaaja with her knees drawn up to her chest and her head cradled in her arms against them. The child had been taken from her grasp as soon as they had entered by a relative of some sort. Tired was not a strong enough word. She lifted her head to regard the woman, ignoring the shades of in between that played at the corners of her vision intermittently. They'd stop once she slept properly. Mostly. It was her first sign that Desire's presence in her mind was weakening.

-Theupgradedmodel,- the demon snarked. Her mood hadn't improved, not that she was a tolerant creature to begin with with items that didn't involve her being fed. She had however made an effort to remain unobtrusive. Apparently Vhaaja's death at the hands of distraction would be counter-productive to her grand designs. Vhaaja too would have been content if Lily had chosen to remain silent.

"Vhaaja."

"I've heard that name before," she commented.

"Have you now?" the wilder grinned, mildly curious.

"From the refugees, a few of them are convinced you are a witch," she paused, "Are you?"

"Its ignorant to think every wilder woman is god-touched."

"I'm sorry, you're right. The Maker-" Lily started, but Vhaaja interrupted.

"I am a happy little heathen. I don't give a damn about what your loveless Maker says," she snapped.

"Thank-you, just the same. For helping me."

"Don't thank me. If it was up to me I'd drop you down a well and call it a day. Be grateful that Jowan cares more for you in a passing thought than you ever did for him. He's a good man," Vhaaja could no longer hold her tongue on the matter, not that it was a particular skill of hers in the first place.

"What he is, its a sin against the Maker," she said flatly, unprovoked by Vhaaja. Which just made the wilder dislike the sister more.

"Yes, he is obviously evil. What with him saving women and children from rampaging darkspawn. Seems to be saving a good deal more souls than your Maker. Unless... he was sent by your Maker to save you all. Wouldn't that be theological conundrum.

"He lied to me!" she retorted, a bit defensively.

"My pinky has more guile than that man. You must have been at least suspicious. Regardless, what was true was that he loved you more than his own life. He proved that. You know as well as I do that moment he revealed himself to save you, Tranquility wasn't an option anymore," then what Lily had said fully registered fully, "But I thought he controlled you mind?" Their eyes met, the sister hadn't expected Vhaaja to know that it seemed. Lily couldn't hold the stare, giving Vhaaja the impression that it was her idea. The bitch was craftier than she looked, much to the wilder's relief. She had seriously began to question Jowan's tastes in women.

"He seems different," Lily said after a moment.

Vhaaja shrugged, "He's only just started to discover who he really is."

"You love him," Lily said suddenly, earning her a scowl. The woman quickly clarified, "It shows when you talk about him. I thought I did. But I loved the Maker more."

Vhaaja replied with a snort of laughter. Maybe she was right. There was a touch of remorse in Lily's tone. Perhaps what had happened that fateful day had yet to rest easily on her shoulders. All at once she felt the hatred she was storing for the woman evaporate. There was more to Lily than she'd allowed herself to think, depths to the woman that Vhaaja couldn't guess at. She examined the sister as the thought of Lily being just another human settled. It was how she noticed Lily's hands were fidgeting. What wasn't she saying? Jowan wasn't the only guileless one of the pair.

"What do you want to tell me?"

Lily's eyes widened at the question. Bulls eye. A war played on the woman's features. At length she answered, "The refugees. A couple talked about traveling with an apostate. And someone from the castle mentioned a man staying there named Levyn."

"He's had that stupid name picked out for some time then?" Vhaaja commented.

"I-its the name of his imaginary friend when he was a child," she stated with a blank expression, as if Vhaaja should have know such a trivial tidbit. Should she? It punctuated clearly that Lily had shared a different type of relationship with Jowan than Vhaaja did now. Should that worry her? No. Of course not. They'd had better things to do than fixate on pasts they couldn't alter, "I told the Revered Mother about my suspicions."

"And she sent word to the Chantry?"

Lily nodded, "She received correspondence, Templars have been sent. They could arrive as early as today if they haven't been delayed."

"The Revered Mother just lets you read her private documents then?"

"I am good at gleaning information," Lily explained delicately.

"So you fucked him over again? Even after you talked to the refugees and knew what he's done for them?" Vhaaja asked, raising herself stiffly. It was an effort to restrain herself from physically harming Lily. That wouldn't help anyone. Mother's Mercy her muscles were sore. She shouldn't have let them cool so rapidly. She'd known better, but had been too tired at the time to care. Her violent thoughts simmered, mood aligning itself with that of her demon's on its own accord. Hate crashing over her once again.

"I was afraid. What if he'd been found out and they thought I knew. They'd assume I was associating with him again. Hunter Fell is my second chance, I won't get another."

It was then that Vhaaja realized that Lily needed her Maker with the same intensity she needed Jowan, or Desire needed to feed. The wilder closed her eyes and counted until the rage that threatened to overwhelm her subsided. She focused instead on the next task, getting out of Hunter Fell as quickly as possible. Luckily they were packed and Vhaaja had accumulated the supplies they'd need the day before. She was grateful now for Helena's confrontation, and Roland tossing them out on their ears. Without another word she skulked out of the Chantry, Lily being much safer outside her company. Nothing good ever happened when a heathen entered the Maker's house Vhaaja reminded herself.

-Youshouldhavesnappedherskinnylittleneck,- Desire spewed venomously. Hatred, she'd never felt it from the demon so strongly.

-Youdon'tevenlikeJowan.-

Desire paused a moment, then gave a shrug, -Itappearsthatourbondeffectsusbothadversely.-

The door closed behind her with a thud, Vhaaja noticed the sun just peeking up over the horizon. She'd been in there longer than she thought. The morning was cool, but smoke laced the air giving it a bitter taste. Vhaaja didn't walk long before finding Jowan, the mage locked in conversation with Ser Gilmore. The body language the men shared looked almost relaxed, both thoughtful. Jowan's hand was at his mouth, the side of his knuckle pressed against his lips as he pondered. A perfectly Jowan stance. He looked pleased with what was developing. His hand dropped as he noticed her and waved her over.

"We may have come to an agreement," Jowan said as she arrived at his side. Vhaaja pursed her lips, Sky Mother he sounded so excited.

"You both still need to be out of the castle, especially now. I can throw my sister's new husband further than I trust him. But there are other places in the Bannorn," Ser Gilmore said with gravity, "What you this night, actions speak louder than words. I may have been...rash."

Of course one problem would magically solve itself as while another reared its head. This would have been much easier if Roland had decided to keep his grudge, "I appreciate it, I really do. But I still think its best if take our leave."

"Vhaaja, don't be that way," Gilmore retorted.

She narrowed her eyes at the knight, "I'm not being any way. I just think it would be prudent if we were long gone when the Templars arrived to cleave Jowan's skull in two."

Jowan let out a shaky breath, worry washing over him. Yet his stormy gray eyes burned with resolve, "That woman was always much smarter than she let on."

"Astute observation, Ser Levyn," Jowan winced a bit as Vhaaja said it.

oOo

The tavern was little more than charred wood. For Lorelai a symbol of everything that had been lost in a matter of hours. While she had been reveling, her people had been suffering. While she had been getting acquainted with Thomas, they had been dying and their homes set on fire; doomed to burn to ash. There was little that could be done for the structures still ablaze besides praying for rain. The first of her scouts had returned, better illustrating the extent of the destruction. So far she had learned so far at least four farmsteads had been along the outskirts of the Village proper lay in shambles. The freeholders and their families slaughtered and eaten among other things she'd rather not think about. They hadn't found any of the women from the families at all. What darkspawn would want with women Lorelai was content not thinking too keenly on.

There simply hadn't been enough men to properly protect her people. Nor had the gates lasted long against the onslaught of an ogre. The emissaries and their magic had done the most damage. The tragedy before her had been caused by the negligence of one man's negligence, her Knight-Commander of the forces at Hunter Fell. The man she'd trusted to keep Hunter Fell safe, a man she'd trusted to know what he was doing. He was currently thinking over his transgression in a cell. She'd half wanted to hang the man, but ultimately she was the Bann. She was the one in error. Every death, every destroyed life was her responsibility. Of course the issue wasn't that simple politically either. The man in question was the brother of another Bann, whose bannorn wasn't but a week's travel from her own. The knight had been sent to squire in Hunter Fell nearly thirty years beforehand. She been barely born at that juncture. Her meager standing in the Bannorn had already wavered in light of her marrying into the Howe family. For all their status they were not regarded well. She could scarcely afford an enemy. Grudges in the Bannorn could simmer for generations before coming to fruition. It would be her children that would pay the price.

Thomas had already voiced his opinion on the matter, yet another point against hanging the knight. Their marriage was still forming, what she allowed now might set the pace for the future. What they had shared the previous night had been unexpected, but she wasn't about to let him forget who the Bann in the equation was. She also couldn't afford to execute a fully trained veteran knight. There would be no quick replacement for him, not with able men in demand throughout the Bannorn. Beyond that they required resources to keep them armed and armored, fed and horsed. They also liked to be paid. Soldiers were easier, marching mostly on their stomaches. Lorelai had done as her father had and kept on only a hand full of knights supplemented with infantry soldiers.

This was an area she felt was out of her depth. Lorelai knew very little of anything relating to preparing troops or going to war. It was not where her education had been focused. Her brother's had been nothing but. An idea formed, she wondred if her knights would continue to listen to him. He was young in comparison to many of them. She was reluctant though to delegate her responsibilities after what had just happened. It would also allow her brother a foothold to becoming Bann himself with the military force of Hunter Fell behind him. Taking Hunter Fell didn't seem to be one of Roland's ambitions, but true intentions were often hard to gauge. He could simply be craftier than their brothers had been about it.

For the thousandth time that day she missed Lian, wishing she hadn't sent the elf away on a wild goose chase. She was such a pragmatic and ruthless little thing. Problems for her were simple. Often just relaying them to her helped Lorelai piece together a plan. With any luck Lian would soon return. Then the real question would become what the elf's place would be would be. The thought amused a bitter corner of her mind. After so many years despising the lack of respect her father had shown her mother that it was now she that had the mistress. It made her ill at ease to realize she shared any traits with the man.

While the tavern was a complete loss, the Chantry next to it had survived. No doubt the Revered Mother would be busy composing a sermon about it being a sign against the sins of the world. Lost in thought, she nearly jumped as she felt a hand light on her shoulder.

"It could have been worse," Thomas said, voice soft and oddly comforting, "Apparently your brother had a mage in his pocket."

"Yes, helpful that," Lorelai said, her tone cautious.

"Makes one wonder what else he is hiding," Thomas said, echoing her thoughts, "So much for sending the Teyrn's troops out today."

Lorelai brought a hand to her face, her fingers massaging her temple in sloppy circles, "I'm half tempted not to send them at all. The Blight is only going to make Darkspawn attacks more frequent. This has shown us we are already vulnerable."

"Then don't," Thomas said with a shrug.

"But your fa-"

"The Teyrn can take the issue up with me," he interjected, "He always was trying to teach me to look after my own interests before anyone else's. The moment I signed my name to the marriage contract Hunter Fell became my primary interest. He should be proud I'm following in his footsteps really."

"I'm sure thats exactly how he will see it. He is not a man I want as my enemy, this is not a game."

"But it is to him, ask Bryce Cousland how far being his friend got him. Its much better to expect the knife in the back, " he replied with a serious edge, showing a side that Lorelai hadn't ever noticed or heard of before. Thomas Howe was harmless. That was the reason she'd considered the marriage in the first place. Her husband looked anything but harmless at the moment. He brought a hand to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. It was in that moment she saw resemblance between her husband and the devious snake that had sired him. Hunter Fell's devious snake as it would seem. The question that plagued her was why he would risk his father's good will. He was heir to Rendon's holdings, unless he knew something she did not. That was fast becoming more and more apparent. Lorelai wasn't entirely sure about being caught in the middle of the two men. Finally he added, "But its your choice, you are the Bann here."

"Its something to consider," she replied, not for the first time getting a sense that Thomas knew her too well given the short time they had known each other, "Later we will have to discuss your mother's extended stay if we proceed with your...suggestion."

"Maybe have my sister visit as well?" Thomas smirked.

"Of course, my thoughts exactly."

"To think I was under the impression I wasn't going to like you," A half smirk appeared on his face, lighting up his whole expression. It was heartening to know her new husband cared about things other than power., even in his ambition. It might become the key difference between father and son, Lorelai mused. But he was young yet.

oOo

Vhaaja sank her blade point first into the exposed neck of the first Templar. His eyes snapped open as he died. It was a clean severing of the of the spine, so it was a relatively quiet death. She watched his eyes, coldly enjoying the way the light faded from them. Bright blue dulling in seconds as the life seeped away. There was no denying the monster now, she couldn't even blame it entirely on the demon who was lapping up Vhaaja's bloodlust like a kitten with a saucer of cream. It wasn't what Desire preferred, the demon compared it to wanting a sirloin steak but instead getting strips of leather to chew on. Vhaaja hadn't even been aware that Desire could feed on anything else. She wouldn't have been able to, if the wilder's desire to kill Templars wasn't so intense. It would tide the demon over, for a while at least.

It had been little over a week since they departed Hunter Fell. How had they known which direction to look? An image assaulted her mind's eye of an open book of maps. Vhaaja winced. It was her fault then, she'd probably left the book open on the pages concerning the southern Bannorn. Or, Vhaaja thought excitedly, they'd heard the rumors about the Chasind and had made a reasonable assumption that that was where a wilder would go. Making it still her fault.

She'd used her last sleep spell on these two unlucky sods. Only three spells remained on her bow. Two useless flares and a Templar Killer. The latter she intended to save as long as possible. Horde away the last trick up her sleeve. She was effectively just another archer now. She'd never felt more vulnerable. A very good archer though. Not that the obtuse Ferelden arrowheads would even pass cleanly through the eye of a bucket helm. Wilder arrowheads were slimmer and they broke easier. She might be able to modify the ones she had if she ever found the time.

Something kept telling her that they were. Now more than before, she believed that every waking moment should be used to push forward. She could almost feel the mists calling out to her.

It was delusional to think that the Chantry had sent two Templars after a fugitive blood mage that had thrice escaped them in the past. Most likely three pairs were sent, its how they came after shamans at any rate. The others were likely close by even. She moved to the next Templar, still firmly under the spell. This one had tried to resist, but Brambled Path had been a very potent shaman. Even the rumors of the Chasind proved true, and she could somehow convince a shaman to respell her bow, she doubted they would be as strong. Not unless her father did them, but his tribe had always existed in bare minimum contact with the other tribes. The magic of his father's tribe was feared, especially by the superstitious Chasind. But it was her father's foul magic, and his father's before him, that had kept the barbarians of the Snow Wastes at bay. And why the Orlesians had only dared to openly invade the Wilds once.

Vhaaja knelt, placing a knee on the chest of the second Templar's plate. She tugged the helmet off, her eyes following the metal as it rolled down the natural slope of the rocky terrain. Even away from Hunter Fell, the land was still stony and matched the color of cooked greens. Her attention drifted back to the man's face as she positioned the blade above his throat. A tingle of recognition came from the recesses of Vhaaja's mind.

-Cullen?-

a/n: Its been forever...I'm really sorry everyone. I discovered a new MMO and got sucked in. I'll try not to let it be so long next time for a new chapter. The next chapter will conclude part two (I can't believe it!). I hope you've enjoyed.