Dawn

First watch could be pleasant; not everyone went to bed early and the after dinner chat around the campfire could extend into the wee hours with the men exchanging stories, jokes and coin as impromptu games of chance came about. While those on duty did patrol the perimeter on occasion, they all knew trouble rarely occurred during first watch. Only the desperate and the stupid walked into a camp full of partially armoured and mostly awake men.

Second watch stole sleep. Staying awake for it never worked out well, the remaining three hours of sleep were not enough to walk eight to ten hours on, let alone attempt watch the next night, and being pulled from sleep in the middle of a dream left one feeling disoriented for near on an hour. Only Zevran seemed talkative on second watch, other partners grumbled and groaned in unison and conversation usually existed of inarticulate grunts as weary legs walked the perimeter. Then, just as wakefulness and alertness was achieved the watch ended and a cold bedroll beckoned.

The third and last watch often arrived after a solid six hours of sleep. Dreams had time to conclude, muscles had time to ease and then a quiet man could watch Thedas come to life. Darkness and peace always blanketed the first hour or so as stalkers of the night finished their hunt and sought their own rest. Even the wind seemed to take a pause that early and the world held still, breath held in, thoughts quiet, awaiting the approach of first light. So as not to disturb the slumber of nature, men spoke in quiet voices during last watch, if they spoke at all, and the walk of the perimeter often felt as if it summoned the dawn as mist receded between the trees and light edged the horizon. A querulous bird call announced the day and a moment later Thedas would wake, all at once, breath let out as the air stirred once more and man and creature alike opened their eyes and began their day.

Luke liked taking last watch. He enjoyed greeting the dawn as it approached and appreciated the more restive nature of his various partners. It might have been Leliana's influence, but he often likened the dawn to a song, one that built gradually from the silence of night to the chitter and chatter of day, one sound at a time. He'd actually sat and listened for each addition and when he described the experience to Leliana, knowing she'd appreciate it, she gave him one of the hugs he didn't mind so much, an arm about the shoulders and a gentle sideways lean. A companionable hug, not the kiss on the forehead and gathered too tightly maternal clasp she used on other occasions.

While second watch could be considered the most dangerous – sleepy men and quiet campsites were enticing targets – experience had taught the Wardens that last watch often invited more trouble. The breaking light of dawn brought with it a lassitude that often proved hard to drop when reaching for swords and pieces of armor. With the night nearly done, sentries could be fooled into thinking the danger had passed and that with the light of day, all would be well.

That morning Luke shared last watch with Aedan. Father and son operated as a single man for the first hour, both emerging from their tents with a quiet attitude, one nod exchanged and near matching armour and weapons quietly donned and sheathed. They moved off together, towards the road, and walked the perimeter in complete silence for nearly half an hour before Aedan finally spoke.

"I dreamed of Cian last night," he said.

Glancing sideways, Luke noted again how he nearly met Aedan's height, and he caught the older man's blue gaze, grey in the low light of predawn, and asked, "Do you dream of him often?"

"Sometimes."

After their visit to the tower of Fort Drakon that night, Luke spent some time thinking about the 'little brother' he'd never met. He found himself watching Rory more closely and Grace sometimes too – looking for what, he couldn't say exactly. He already knew they were both a little different, what with the dreams and being the children of such extraordinary parents. All the Couslands were a little different, he supposed, himself included. He looked hints of the mysterious Cian in their lives, as if he expected to see a third small child, or maybe even his shadow, playing alongside Rory and Grace. He never did, not really, but on occasion he thought he felt a presence.

Leliana sat beside him one day as he looked for that third child and she said, "Why are you studying the shadows so intently, Luke? Is Zevran out there somewhere, hiding?"

Smiling, he answered, "No." Looking at her, he wondered if he could tell her what he was looking for, then realised he probably could. "I was looking for Cian." She showed no surprise. "Is it odd that I think I can feel him sometimes?"

"No, not at all," she replied. He expected she'd tell him something mystical then, something about shadows of expected beings, but instead she said, "He watches us, Luke, all of us. Not always, but when he can, more usually in our dreams."

He took a breath and held it, disturbed for a moment by the prospect of that odd child, one that carried the soul of an Old God, watching him, even as he suspected it. "Why?" he asked.

"Because we are his family and he is curious about us… and because he cares."

Luke scratched his head, puzzled by the idea of a child he'd never met caring for him and the rest of the family.

"He led Aedan from the Fade, or tried to, when he had the fever," Leliana explained.

"Aedan said he dreams of him; Rory does too, doesn't he?"

"Yes."

"Does it… bother you, Leli?"

"Oh, Luke, we are such an odd little family." She smiled, not sadly, but not exactly brightly either. "I would like to say no, but you are a man, yes? You understand what Cian means, how he came about." Infidelity, of a sort? "There are times when I wish he did not exist – but if he did not, Aedan would not be here with us. He would not have rescued you in Lothering, Rory would never have been born and Grace…" she left that one hang with a small shrug of her shoulders. Luke understood. Grace, like himself, would have become an orphan, if they had lived at all. "But he is here and he is my husband's son and there is no doubt the boy has a connection with his father, that Cian cares deeply for Aedan. That is a good thing, I think. We can never have too many brothers and sisters, friends and loved ones."

Luke agreed and Leliana's words had another effect – he realised that whatever had come between Aedan and Leliana, it had not been Cian. They were united on that front and both seemed to regard the boy with some affection. And so the young man welcomed an invisible brother to his family and kept a watch on the shadows for him.

Turning to Aedan now, he studied the warrior carefully, wondering if it had been a worrying dream or a good dream and why it had been mentioned at all. He asked, "Was it… an important dream?"

Aedan rubbed at the scar on his forehead and seemed to consider his response. "I think so. He seemed to hint trouble came our way," his gaze flicked forward and to the side, "which we are expecting, and he said I needed to look out for Grace."

"Then we'll do just that, eh?"

Aedan smiled at him, seemingly put at ease by his acceptance and attitude. "Yes. We should tell Leli when she wakes, I… I always tell her when I've, ah… spoken to Cian or Morrigan."

Luke nodded in understanding. He smiled in return, grateful Aedan had shared so much with him.

Their smiles died in the same instant as they both felt the taint. It did not pervade the air, no one but a Warden might have sensed it. Luke felt it, the way he always did, as an uneasy touch, a sick feeling, a foreboding. He'd never asked how it felt to Aedan, he didn't have to, the man's expression told him it felt the same, as did the face of every Warden he'd looked at. Wrong, it just felt wrong.

Without a word, they nodded towards the distance, but as Luke stepped in that direction, Aedan caught his arm and shook his head: No. The former commander turned back towards camp. Luke understood his purpose soon enough as Aedan's boot gently nudged Ben before he moved on towards Anders. Luke started with Zevran and then went directly to Leliana's tent. Ducking beneath the flaps, he touched Leliana's foot and she came instantly awake.

"Leli," he whispered. She blinked at him in the grey light of dawn, her face composed but tight. She knew why he'd woken her. Thinking of Aedan's dream, he said softly, "Watch out for Grace… Aedan… he had a dream."

Nodding, she reached to wake her children and set about preparing herself and them for whatever might come.

The rest of the Wardens were awake when he left the tent and most of them had started putting on their armour. No one spoke a word, they did not need to. They knew he and Aedan had sensed the taint, they all knew the plan. Zevran moved with them, having fought with Wardens for so long, he understood their signals, their body language and their purpose.

They gathered together, ready to move out, but Aedan did not follow them. Luke looked back and Aedan nodded towards his tent. Leliana emerged, dressed in her leathers and Aedan stepped to her side. He would be remaining with his wife this time. Luke went to move towards them, but Zevran caught his arm.

"No," he whispered.

"But they are alone," Luke said. "What if it's a trap?"

Zevran considered this a moment, then nodded. "I will stay; you must go with the Wardens." And with that, the elf faded from view.

Luke did not want to leave; he wanted to stand with those he loved. Duty pulled in one direction and loyalty in another, each compulsion interchangeable. He could not do both and with a wrenching movement he moved after the Wardens. Zevran would fall before he let harm come to Aedan. And Aedan…? He would not let anyone touch his family, and Leliana would…

Shaking his head, Luke did what a Warden does. He closed the connection, temporarily. He had to. He could not fight; he could not concentrate with his heart and thoughts divided.

Catching up the Anders, he followed the pull of the taint.

The touch of it felt light and vague, almost as it had when they'd investigated the one report of ghouls where they'd actually found evidence of them. Sensibly, if such a scene awaited them, they'd have felt it when they made camp. Whatever moved out there must be living, if being a ghoul could be described as such, and either at a great distance or in low numbers. As they moved closer, Luke breathed a little easier – the taint grew less faint, but no more potent which pointed to the later, fewer numbers.

Thedas woke around them, the screech of a bird sending a shiver down his spine, the breath of wind tickling his face. The shadows between the trees brightened and the mist swirling about their ankles receded, whisked away by sudden flashes of movement and their own passage. The small wood seemed to hum as it woke, a sound he had always enjoyed. The trees began to thin and stood further apart, and then dropped away altogether as the Wardens came out of the copse and onto a small ridge, rolling paddock before them in every direction.

A curl of smoke coloured the pinkish sky and Luke's breath caught as he looked out across the fields, a patchwork of yellow, green and brown, and there, in the middle of a small collection of sheds and a farmhouse, or what used to be a house, blackened, collapsed and ruined. The taint lay down there, buried, still vague, but also definite, and likely they'd find bodies too. Always there were bodies. The wind picked up and shifted direction and they smelt the smoke, faintly, burnt wood and flesh and rot. Luke's stomach turned over and a soft grunt sounded to his left, Kyle, he thought.

After the small pause, during which they all assessed the scene and likely had the same thoughts, the five Wardens began to descend the hill. Luke felt the absence of Zevran in a way that differed entirely from the creep and itch he had become so used to, knowing the rogue walked behind him or beside him, but cloaked in shadow. Almost selfishly he wondered if he'd be safe without his chaperone, his watcher and protector. He and Zevran had learned to fight as a pair, though they did not always do so. In this fight, if it came to combat, he would move between two functions. He would offer flanking and support to the warriors, Ben and Gerard, and if required he would drop back to assist Kyle and Anders. The archer and the mage worked together as a team, but Kyle could not always protect Anders. And the Warden mage was both their greatest weapon and greatest weakness. His spells healed and harmed and always drew the interest of their enemy.

The stench grew as they neared the farm proper and then seemed to separate. They soon found the reason. Crows circled a thick stand of reeds encircling a pond. It hadn't been visible from the ridge and when they investigated, they found more than one corpse. The larger parts had been a cow, the smaller – he didn't want to know. As if staring at pile of bones and gore, ripped and chewed and covered in flies and stink wasn't bad enough, his skin fairly crawled with the feel of the taint now. It permeated the air and had a settled feel. It had been here a while? But if that were the case, why had they not felt it earlier? Had he and Aedan stepped just beyond the bounds of the previous patrol? Had a variance of a few feet made all the difference?

Beyond the pond stood a shed, one wall collapsed inwards. Dark stains covered the ground before it and shallow grooves led the way into the dark interior. Luke did not want to go in the shed. None of the Wardens did. As they drew closer to it, the scent of blood and flesh assailed their nostrils, along with the taint. Whatever lay inside was not completely… dead. Ghouls were not reliable killers. They attacked until something stopped moving and then did one of two things – continued to claw madly at their victim or moved on, attracted by the noise, the sound or the smell of something new. There was no life after being mauled by a ghoul, not in Luke's mind. The wounds could not be healed by magical or medicinal means and the taint spread more swiftly in a weakened body. Someone so injured could only hope to die before they succumbed to the madness.

Ben moved his hand through a series of motions indicating he and Gerard would investigate the shed and that the rest of them should remain were they were. He did not have to tell them to be alert. A Warden was ever vigilant. The two warriors moved through the slice of darkness left open by the hanging door and disappeared. Luke looked back across the fields, to the ridge behind him, and wondered if the wind had carried the scent of smoke and taint as far as the camp yet. Was Aedan waging an inner battle or an outer one? The taint would pull at him, entice him most horribly. He'd want to follow it to the source and eradicate it so that it no longer prickled his skin and threatened his people. Luke could only hope that this was not all part of a more elaborate plan, that these ghouls operated somewhat mindlessly and alone, that they were not accompanied by bandits and rogues - that they did not plot.

Sounds from within the shed drew his attention and Luke winced as he heard the telltale sound of swords meeting flesh. He imagined he could hear that final exhalation, the odd sigh of resignation, but he did not. Instead a high pitched whine rent the air, quickly silenced by another sword. The young Warden closed his eyes. They had been people once, probably the family that farmed this land. Ben and Gerard had done the right thing. They would have been suffering and the tainted plague had no cure.

Besides the wind and the crows, the farm now lay still and silent and the Wardens crept forward again until Kyle hissed. Gerard took one more step and yelled as a trap closed about his ankle, the steel teeth grinding into his armoured leg, screeching against the metal as he tilted forward. Ben dropped down beside him and put a hand on one 'jaw' of the trap and began prying it open. Luke bent down to help on the other side and they managed to pull Gerard's leg out. Blood trickled from beneath his armoured plates and he could put no weight on the leg and sat heavily to unbuckle the plate while Anders crouched beside him, ready to heal what he could.

Gerard ground his teeth and swore, "Andraste's flaming sword." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Ben glanced about, his eyes haunted now. "I do not like this," he murmured softly. All nodded in agreement. Bodies in sheds, slaughtered livestock and traps. "We have been drawn here; this has been laid out for us." The senior Warden glanced back up the hill, his expression mirroring Luke's earlier thoughts. His gaze then dropped to Luke's. "We need to stay and sort this; we cannot have ghouls or worse at our backs."

Luke nodded in understanding. They all wanted to charge back up that hill, away from the mess and towards their commander, former or not. But they could not, for two reasons. The taint plucked at them, they had to do their duty, and because as Ben said, they could not leave this at their backs. Whatever the game, they had to play it hand by hand.

Gerard's ankle bone proved sound, though the noise he made as Anders tended it might have suggested otherwise. Luke thanked the Maker for that small luck, Anders could knit a bone, but the warrior would barely be able to fight on the weakened ankle, not for a while, and he'd need rest.

The young Warden stood and surveyed the scene, looking for signs their commotion had summoned their enemy. Nothing stirred. He did not find the lack of sound comforting. He couldn't help but remember the farm he'd grown up on, laying in ruins like this one, and he couldn't help recalling the village where he'd become tainted, quiet like this one, but for the smell and the absence of proper life.

Kyle scouted the area for more traps, disabling two of the same device, before they reached the next shed. From there a space of fifty feet lay between them and the farmhouse. Any soldier hated crossing such an open space, but they would have to do so, all of them. In the light of day, any ghouls remaining would be holed up inside the farmhouse and they dared not wait until dark to draw them out.

Rounding the rough corner of the shed, they stepped forward, preparing to run the gauntlet. Luke caught a flicker of movement behind one of the windows and he raised his hand for attention from the company then pointed towards the window. As one they watched dark hands raise the sash and then disappear. As one they waited, stupidly, as arrows flew from the gap and into their number.

Gerard raised his shield and they all formed behind him, as best they could while dashing for the cover of the shed again. Luke estimated there were two archers. Two archers would likely have the support of at least four other men. And then there were the ghouls. Arrows clattered about the ground and thunked into the half rotted and charred wood of the shed they crouched behind. Kyle pulled an arrow from his quiver, knocked it against his bowstring and, leaning out, he let it loose before ducking back.

"I could shoot arrows in through that window all day and not hit anything, the angle is too acute," he said.

"I could throw a fire ball," Anders suggested. "There is not much left of that house anyway."

"But who is within?" Ben questioned.

Luke felt there would be no one worth saving, or he hoped there would be no one of the family left. Sickness swirled in his gut as he realised he had just wished an entire family dead. "I think you found the family already?"

Gerard said, "Aye, but no children. What farm has no children?"

Oh, holy Maker. Luke had to swallow against the bile in the back of his throat. Why? What depraved notions did these bandits have and why would they hold children as hostages? At once the answer clicked – they were after Aedan and everyone knew of the Warden Commander's fondness for children.

Luke could not help the glance over his shoulder at the ridge behind him – what was happening through the woods? Were Aedan and Leliana still safe?