Part XXI
Ban Teagan and Teyrn Fergus looked out at the opposing army gathered just outside Denerim's gates. From their place atop the thick allure, the men could easily see what was going on in the encampment just beyond the city's walls. And, for the most part, it appeared to be a great deal of nothing. There were no visible signs of preparations for an assault of any kind. Mostly the men in the Order's camp went about as if nothing at all were about the happen. It made the two men even more nervous. They were both convinced that an attack was imminent, but it flustered them to no end that the Order refused to reveal even the slightest hint of when that attack might be. Fergus and Teagan could only guess at how to prepare and pray the Maker was with them.
"They're hiding something, I'm sure of it." Fergus mumbled, looking across the field at the enemy force, "Things over there have been too quiet. They're not trying to lay siege to the city, that much if certain. They don't have enough men and no navy to form a blockade."
"But if they keep this up, it might as well be a siege. No goods are coming into Denerim and our supplies won't last forever." Teagan noted.
"Fortunately most of the residents were able to flee. There's only a few thousand people left in the city. That will buy us a bit of time."
"Yes, but how many of those are agents for the Order?"
"That's the big question, now, isn't it? One that we've no real way of knowing."
"We don't even know if word was able to reach my brother or not. He and his men could be walking right into an ambush."
"True." the teyrn agreed, "If Eamon is on his way, we'll need every last man he's got. I have a feeling that if he is out there, our message was received. Captain Dyana is a very resourceful woman."
"I hope you're right. For all our sakes."
"Me, too."
"And speaking of brothers, what do you suppose is keeping yours?" Teagan asked.
"That's another excellent question, my friend. I wish I knew the answer. It's starting to look like we'll have to do this one on our own."
"We both know The Warden would already be here if he could. Something is keeping him away."
"We have to assume that the Order is using my nephew as leverage against Dwemer" Fergus replied, his stare still fixed on the Order's encampment, "Their plan was smart. From the beginning they wanted my brother as far away from the action as possible. They knew he was the only one who could stop them. It looks like they finally succeeded."
"What about Alistair? We don't even know if he's alive or not."
"I have a suspicion the good captain intends to find out that answer, herself."
"Didn't you tell her to return to the city as soon as she contacted Eamon?"
"You don't think she's really going to listen, do you? You saw the look in her eyes as well as I did."
"That's insane. She'll only end up getting herself captured or killed. Why would she do such a thing?"
"Because she's his Captain of the Guard. She feels honor bound to do so." Fergus answered, turning to face the ban, "And for the oldest reason of all...she's in love with him."
The Warden, Morrigan, and the rest of their group traveled out of the Korcari Wilds and headed back north, having found what they were after. They rode as fast as they could on the long trek back to the Black Warden's camp. Occasionally, though, they would have to slow their pace to a walk and let the horses recover before bolting off once again. It was during one such rest that Silas finally found the nerve to speak to the witch about something that had been bothering him.
All the members of the party, save for Morrigan and Silas, had dismounted and were leading their mounts on a steady march. The young warden walked his steed closer to the witch, who was mounted on The Warden's horse while The Warden walked in front, leading the beast by the reigns. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Silas, as if to say, Now may not be the best time for this. But, as was often the case, Silas failed to heed his mentor's warning.
"I'd like to ask you something." The young warden said to Morrigan.
The witch rolled her eyes and groaned, "I am hardly surprised. You wardens seem to have a keen fondness for harassing me with useless questions." she hissed.
"There's something I don't understand."
"I would imagine there are a great many things you fail to comprehend."
"If you hate me so much, then ,why did it bother when you thought I died?"
"You are important to The Warden, for some reason I cannot fathom."
"Is that the only reason?"
"Allow me to be perfectly clear, boy." Morrigan said, her tone turning deadly serious as she cast her icy stare at the young warden, "I do not like you and I certainly do not trust you. You've brought me nothing but misery since the day we first met. Were it my decision, you would have found your neck in a tight noose strung from a tree."
"I'm trying to make up for what I did."
"Have you even the slightest inkling of what you've done? 'Tis not something that can be remedied with a mere apology. Through your selfish actions, Ferelden is now within the clutches of a madman and his followers. And worst of all...they have my..." the witch paused to compose herself, "Those bastards have my son."
"But I didn't know that it would come to this. I swear I never would have agreed to help them if I knew."
"Silas didn't take our son, Morrigan. The Order did." The Warden added, looking back at his witch. "Forgiveness doesn't come easy for you, but I am asking you to try. Silas was manipulated and used."
"I fail to see how he is the victim." the witch said, cocking her head and folding her arms.
"Because they knew he was mad at me somehow and used that to their advantage."
"I never thought you were evil, my lady." Silas said, trying his best to address the witch properly and not draw further ire, "But Jervik and the Black Warden convinced me that I did. They said you were nothing but a vile maleficar and that you controlled Dwemer like a puppet. But Dwemer used to talk about you all the time, so I knew you weren't really evil. But the more they talked, the more they made me believe you were. I guess part of me wanted to, because that made things a bit easier."
"You didn't think I was really going to leave, did you?" The Warden asked.
"No, I didn't." Silas admitted, "Back at Vigil's Keep, you used to talk about it all the time, but you always stayed for one reason or another. I knew you wanted to leave, I just never thought you actually would. When you finally did leave to go help Alistair in the rebuilding effort, I was furious. I blamed Morrigan. I knew when you left the Grey Wardens it was so you could eventually find her. You didn't have to step down as Warden Commander in order to help Alistair."
"So when you were approached by this Jervik, you were more than ready to listen." Morrigan quipped.
"I was. But I feel awful about it. I wish with everything that I could just take it all back."
"But you cannot. What's done is done."
"I'm going to prove to you that I regret what I did. I promise I'll do whatever is takes to help you get your son back."
"We shall see." was all the witch would say.
"At any rate, it'll be dark soon. We should find a place to camp for the night." The Warden said, "Everyone is probably famished."
"I know I am." Silas replied, "I'm hungry enough to eat an entire ox."
"I guess I'll have to see what I can whip up, then."
"You?" the young warden asked, only half believing his mentor was serious, "When did you become a chef?"
"I'm no gourmet, but I try."
"Don't be so modest." Leliana injected. Turning to face Silas, she said, "He is really quite an excellent cook."
"It would seem our brave warden's skills with a blade know no bounds, extending even into the kitchen." the elf added, "I must confess that I have a fondness for his dishes, even if they aren't Antivan."
"I did not know that." Silas said a bit surprised by the knowledge, "He never even went near the kitchen at Vigil's Keep."
"Not that you ever knew about." The Warden corrected. "So what'll it be tonight? Any suggestions?"
"I am in the mood for venison." Morrigan said, a wicked grin forming on her face, "I prefer a choice young buck, nearly in his prime. His sinews not yet toughened by the strains of adulthood." She cast her stare at the young warden, "I should think the testicles would make for a very fine stew, indeed."
Silas swallowed hard, saying nervously, "Suddenly, I'm not so hungry anymore."
Normally the march to Denerim from Redcliffe took nearly a week, but Arl Eamon pushed his soldiers so that they covered more than half the distance in just over two days. On the third day, however, a fierce storm came upon them, bringing the entire column of men to a grinding halt. All day, the torrential barrage from the heavens continued, thoroughly soaking the ground. Men were buried up to their knees in mud, the many supply carts and wagons kept getting stuck, and men had to dismount their steeds in order to keep the beasts from sinking into the muck.
As the fourth day dawned, things were just getting dry enough to permit travel. A rider approached the long column of men from the east, appearing as nothing more than a silhouette against the rising sun. Eamon squinted his eyes in the glare to better make out the figure that approached him. The rider rode their dark horse up the arl and tugged back on the reigns in an effort to get the beast to stop. Chunks and bits of mud were flung into the air when, at last, the rider was able to convince the animal to stop. The animal whinnied excitedly and puffed as it pranced in place, as if terrified. The rider reached up and pulled back the dark hood, revealing Captain Dyana.
"I've been sent by Teyrn Fergus Cousland, I'm Dyana, Captain of the Royal Guard." she said, introducing herself with a bow.
"You are known to me, captain." the arl replied, "What message do you bring?"
"I came to warn you to stay away from Denerim. The Order followed us there and were almost able to gain entrance into the city. Their army has since camped itself outside Denerim's walls."
"I was afraid something like this might happen." Eamon said as he pondered, "We'll have to find another way into the city. But how...?"
"Ban Teagan and the teyrn were..." the captain was cut short by her steed's impatient movements. She gripped the reigns tighter in her hands, saying, "They were thinking the same thing. Teyrn Fergus was working on a plan to that end. He says you should stay put until he contacts you again."
"Is there something wrong with your horse captain? It seems a bit...agitated."
"It's been a rough journey. I had to ride all the way from the coast."
"From the coast? I don't understand."
"It's a long story, my lord. The main point being that I was spotted by some of the Order's spies and their soldiers quickly tracked me down. I was able to kill most of them..."
"Riders to the east!" a man shouted.
"Apparently, you were unable to kill them all. It seems you were followed" the arl said.
Five men on horseback had just appeared on the far side of the long meadow beside the road. Seeing that their quarry had already reached the arl, they hastily turned their horses around and darted back off into the forest and disappeared from view.
"After them!" Eamon yelled, "They can't be allowed to reveal our position!"
"Yes, my lord!" one of the knights acknowledged, and with a command, he and several other knights charged out from the ranks in pursuit.
Returning his attention back to the captain, Arl Eamon said, "I will need you to carry word back to Denerim for me."
"I'm afraid I will be unable to do that, my lord. I have urgent business in the north to attend to." she replied as humbly as she could, hoping that he wouldn't insist that she return to Denerim.
"In the north? What business?"
"I need to get to Highever."
"Highever was destroyed. There's nothing left of it. What could you possibly need there?"
"I know of Highever's fate, my lord. I was there on that terrible night. But the king has been captured and it is my duty as his captain to make sure he is returned, unharmed. They'll most likely have him locked up in the castle, which was not damaged in the attack."
"I see..." Eamon said as he stroked his gray beard, "It is imperative that Alistair be freed. Ferelden has need of its king now more than ever. I will send some men to help you."
"Thank you, but that won't be necessary, my lord."
"By the Maker, are you mad, woman? There's no way you can attempt to rescue Alistair on your own."
"Its my fault he was captured. I don't want anyone else to pay for my mistakes. Besides, I've spent quite a bit of time at Castle Cousland and I am familiar with it. One person can sneak in and out much easier than a group. I beg you, my lord, allow me to do this by myself. I will succeed. I swear it." Dyana pleaded as convincingly as she could.
"Very well..." the arl relented, "But be warned, if you manage to get yourself killed, you'll have no one else to blame but yourself, captain."
"I understand, perfectly."
Alistair sat in his dank cold cell. In the wake of his escape attempt, several things had changed to ensure he would remain put. His legs and arms had been bound with shorter, yet thicker lengths of chain and neither of the new guards outside his door possessed the key to his shackles. Now, only the lieutenant in charge of the dungeon held the key. And he was safely beyond a wooden door in another part of the labyrinth beneath the castle.
The king could swear his ears were bleeding after having just been subjected to another long lecture by Denolian. This time, the desire demon accompanied him, as she had on one other occasion. And as before, she said nothing, merely looking at Alistair with a cold and expressionless face while the priest talked at length in his silvery smooth voice. The king had to admit that Denolian was quite convincing with his argument. It was easy to see why so many had fallen under his spell. Had Alistair not known the priest's true nature, he could have easily been swayed. But he knew that Denolian was nothing but an insane megalomaniac, hellbent on destroying Ferelden with his twisted schemes.
There was no way Denolian was going to convince Alistair that all the evils in the land were solely his fault. He never thought of himself as a perfect ruler by any means, but he was a good deal better than he thought he'd be, actually surprising himself as Eamon said he would. And seeing as how he really hadn't been king all that long, he felt he was good enough and he was getting better every day. Someday he might even make for a great king, one worthy of mention centuries later. That is, if he could ever get out of the cell he was in and escape.
At last, the priest had winded himself and run out of long and fancy words to say. He turned to leave and one of the guards quickly opened the wooden door for him. The demon still stood there, looking at Alistair as if she was pondering something. Alistair could swear that there was some kind of internal struggle going on inside her.
"Coming, my dear?" Denolian asked in his soothing voice.
"Oh...yes." the demon answered, her attention coming back to focus.
And after the two had left, the king was left there alone with his thoughts and ears that he was convinced were bleeding. There was something going on in the demon's head, and if Alistair could figure out just what it was, he might be able to exploit it.
"That's far enough!" a gruff man ordered The Warden and his companions as they approached the edge of the Black Warden's encampment. He was joined by another man and they were both heavily armed, apparently on guard duty. "Who goes there?"
"Tell your master I've returned. I have what he wants." The Warden said, issuing his own orders to the men.
"Come with me." the guard returned and headed further into the camp, leading The Warden and the others to the front of a large round white tent. "I'm sorry to disturb you, my lord..." the man called out to the tent nervously.
"What is it?" a voiced boomed from inside, followed by a child's giggle.
"Seth!" Morrigan gasped upon hearing her son.
"The Warden and his comrades have returned. He says he's got the amulet with him." the guard replied.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Show The Warden and his lovely bride in." the voice from the tent commanded.
"Alright, go in, but leave your weapons." the guard ordered as he held out his hand. Both The Warden and his witch removed their blades and handed them to the guard who, in turn, handed them to another man for safe keeping.
Not waiting for the guard to do it for him, The Warden impatiently grabbed the cloth covering the entrance and tossed it aside. Both the witch and The Warden stormed into the tent quickly, but as the others tried to follow they were met with crossed blades barring their passage.
"Oh, No you don't." another of the guards said, "He said just them two. You'll have to wait out here."
The interior of the tent was well furnished, but not lavish. There was some chairs and a small table, and just beyond the support pole in the center, there were two bedrolls laid out. The Black Warden was sitting in one of the chairs with Seth straddling his knee while he held the tot's tiny hands in his own. The child squealed and giggled loudly as the dark man playfully bounced the child up and down.
"We did what you asked. I've got your damned amulet. Now give me back my son." The Warden huffed with deep hatred in his voice.
"Look who's come back." The Black Warden said, his focus still on the child.
"What do you call yourself doing with my son, you bastard?" the witch fumed, her fists clenched tightly beside her.
"Oh, Seth and I were just having a bit of fun, that's all." the Black Warden replied while a wry grin formed somewhere underneath his dark hood, "Weren't we, my boy?".
"Get your filthy hands away from my son!" The Warden shouted, startling the boy. Seth jumped as he turned to face the direction of the sound. And as before, when he saw his father his little toddler face scrunched up in confusion.
The Warden reached into a pouch tied to his belt and withdrew the Eye of Arvisarok. "Here's the amulet. Now give me my son."
"How do I know that item is authentic?" the dark warden asked, unconvinced. "I gave you a week and it only took you four days. It seems likely you could have purchased this bauble in an attempt to fool me."
Instantly, the witch's hands went to her hips and she said, "'Tis the genuine article, of that you can be assured. We risked our lives in acquiring it."
"A deal is a deal and until I'm convinced that's the real amulet, I'm not returning your son. Let me examine it for myself."
The Warden looked over at Morrigan. They both knew what a huge risk handing over the amulet was, but under the circumstances it seemed that they had little choice. "Fine." The Warden said as he reached out his hand and dropped the amulet into the Black Warden's waiting palm.
After giving the amulet a long examination under the light of the lamp, the Black Warden concluded, "This is the Eye of Arvisarok, alright. I have to say I really am amazed that you got it so fast."
"You have what you wanted. Now give us back our child." The Warden said.
"Oh...about that. I think I've changed my mind."
"What?" Morrigan asked, her heart nearly leaping from her chest, "We had an agreement. The amulet for my son."
"To tell you the truth, I really did intend on giving you your boy back, but I've gotten pretty fond of him. Having him around should prove to be very useful. And, as you can tell, he's taken a liking to me, as well. But, then again, he always did know who his true father was." The Black Warden explained as he slowly pulled back the dark hood, revealing his face.
Morrigan let out a gasp of disbelief when she saw her husband's face on the man sitting in the chair with her son. "How is this possible?" she asked.
"That, my lady, is quite a long tale. And, unfortunately I don't have the time at present. Now, if you'll excuse us, my new son and I have some bonding to do."
"Deceiver! I shall tear out your heart!" the witch cried out in anger, preparing to change her form into something more vicious.
"Not a wise idea while I hold the boy, don't you think?" The Black Warden cautioned, before calling out to the guards.
Instantly six large men rushed into the room and surrounded the couple, the ends of their blades pointed straight at Morrigan and The Warden.
"Please escort our guest out." the dark warden ordered his men, then turned his attention back to Seth as if they were alone in the room.
The guards moved in closer and forcefully prodded the pair out the tent. "I'll be back, you son of a bitch." The Warden promised while his eyes seethed with hatred, "This isn't over."
"Of course its over, Warden." the Black Warden replied nonchalantly, "It was over before you even started."