Many thanks to all those of you reading and commenting! As always, I'm happy to hear constructive critcism and suggestions. Special thanks to WellspringCD, who is so patient in reminding me of my lack of details!
Leliana stood in the midst of the deserted camp, her arms crossed over her chest. "I knew I should have attacked them immediately. I cannot believe I gave them time to get away."
"Why did you?" Bethany was as disappointed as the bard; she had hoped to capture her sister quickly, with the help of the Chantry's operatives.
The other woman glanced at her, blue eyes narrowed, but didn't bother to respond. Turning to Thrand, she said impatiently, "Where have they gone?"
"It isn't difficult to tell. They left a trail the densest shemlen could follow." He didn't move to point it out, and Leliana smiled.
"Yes. I know."
"You were testing me?" The tone made it clear the Dalish didn't like that idea.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps I felt the giant blazed trail was too obvious and wanted a second opinion. One I did not get, may I add."
"Hmph." Thrand bestirred himself, though, and began slowly circling the clearing, studying the ground. At last he straightened, turning to look at Leliana. A frown creased his fine features. "That is the only trail. They know you're following them, don't they?"
"Yes." Leliana frowned, too. "Perhaps they have set traps."
"None that I could detect."
"Maybe," Bethany said, tired of the two rogues and their superior attitudes, "they just didn't care. Maybe they're so sure of themselves that they don't think of you as a threat."
They both looked her way briefly, but clearly didn't give much thought to her suggestion.
Leliana said, "Did they place traps in the trees?"
"No." He shook his head, trying to get rid of the cloud of bugs that buzzed around it. "The jungle itself may well be trap enough."
"Pardon me for the interruption, but once you reach them, what are you planning to do? They killed most of my team of very well-trained Wardens, may I remind you," Bethany said.
"I know how to handle my team." Leliana glanced at the set of Chantry operatives who waited, impassive, behind her. "We are more than a match for a ragtag group of civilians."
"These aren't just civilians. Anders and Oghren are Wardens, my sister and the Teyrn were in the army in Ferelden, and Zevran is an ex-Crow, or so you've said. Fenris was personal bodyguard to a Tevinter magister, and Isabela is used to keeping hundreds of men under control ... without using any of the obvious female weaponry. Not to mention what the Warden Commander and his woman are capable of, if even half of the stories I've heard about the Blight are to be believed. Well, I don't have to tell you about that, do I?" Bethany said, watching Leliana's face. The bard didn't speak. "So you see what I'm getting at—to think you can best such a team with a few Chantry zealots seems over-confident, at best."
"You do not know everything," Leliana said in a furious whisper, her Orlesian accent thickened. "You think you know, but you are as lost as all the others. The Chantry has power, great power, even here in the Wilderness."
"What kind of power? Are you a mage?" Bethany asked, filled with confusion.
"She's not a mage," Thrand said in a tone of derision. His eyes still rested on Leliana, his expression unreadable. "She knows something she hasn't shared with us, something that gives her an advantage over the Commander and his party."
Bethany did not like the sensation of being the slow child in between the two adults that she was getting from this conversation, but she had to admit, Thrand appeared to be right. "What do you know, Leliana? Tell me now." She didn't allow the magic to manifest itself in an obvious way, but she could feel her own powers gathering, and she suspected Leliana could, as well.
But the bard had regained control of herself. She shook her head. "I will tell you nothing. If you are required to know, you will be told later. For now, we will assume your sister was fool enough to leave her path wide open, and we will follow where they went. Come along." She snapped her fingers, and Bethany reluctantly fell into line.
In the confusion of making camp the night before, there had been little time for Wulfric to renew old acquaintances beyond a quick hug or handclasp. The two campsites weren't overly close to each other; Morrigan clearly felt the need to keep space between her family and those who had come to their aid. Fergus couldn't blame her—if his son was the manifestation of an old god, he wasn't sure he would trust anyone, either. He felt fortunate that he was allowed to camp with his brother's family. It appeared that Wulfric felt as he did, that their time together would necessarily be short and they should make the best of it while they could. But it meant that Fergus hadn't seen much of Jennie when the rest of the group had come in and camped.
The large, heavily scaled Driazi had been very helpful in setting up the other camp and had melted into the forest as soon as their assistance was no longer needed. Morrigan had flown with them to their home, thanking them for their help by using her magic to heal any sick or wounded members of the clan. She didn't return until late in the night.
"Will we see them again?" Fergus asked Wulfric as they sat over breakfast.
"No doubt we will. They're very polite, although a bit on the aloof side. They never let us forget whose home this is, that's for sure."
"How long have they been here?"
"Their creation myths indicate that they have lived here for hundreds of years. Their skin suggests that they have some kinship with the many large dragonish creatures who populate the forest; I have often speculated that the Driazi were once dragons, who have turned into men over time. 'Tis strange, however, that they have no magic." Morrigan's face was as animated as Fergus had ever seen it.
"None whatsoever?"
"Not that I have seen any indication of. Perhaps long ago there were mages in their population and they have since died out, but if so, their existence has not been incorporated into the mythology."
Wulfric was watching his wife with undisguised admiration. "It still impresses me how quickly you learned their language, Morrigan. All this time, and I can only understand a few words. All the rest of it just sounds like hissing to me."
"It's easy, Papa! Listen." Arthur made some sounds that, indeed, sounded like a lot of hissing to Fergus's untrained ears.
"You have your mother's ear, my son." Wulfric smiled fondly at the little boy.
They finished their breakfast and ambled over to the other camp, where two of the Driazi were unrolling a long piece of what looked like a leaf for Varric to peruse. Morrigan made a sound of surprise, and Fergus glanced at her curiously.
"It is their timeline, the way they record their history. It is rare for them to show it to anyone, much less someone they've just met."
"Varric doesn't allow language barriers to get in the way of a good story," Jennie said, walking over to greet them. Her eyes skimmed over Fergus's face and she looked hastily away from him to Wulfric. "We've been waiting for you, Warden Commander."
He winced, holding up a hand. "Please, Wulfric. I'm no longer commander of anything—" he glanced at Morrigan with a wink and a smile, earning a chuckle from his wife, "and I had more than my fill of being called Warden during the Blight."
"Our friend here spent the better part of a year beseeching everyone he met to call him by his first name," Zev commented. "With very little luck."
"I remember some of your alternatives got quite creative, Zev."
"Ah, those good old days, kickin' and gougin' in the mud and the blood and the ale." Oghren stuck out a big meaty hand, and guffawed as Wulfric ostentatiously inspected it before shaking it. "Glad to see ya made good."
"This reunion is very nice, I'm certain, but we have important topics to discuss," Morrigan said, forestalling whatever Isabela had been about to say. The pirate grinned, not daunted in the slightest, and took a seat on a low log, her knees jacked up high enough to display everything that lay under her short tunic.
As far as Fergus could tell, Anders had yet to acknowledge Wulfric—or vice versa—and they didn't look at each other as the mage took up a stance at the back of the group. Fenris stood on the other side, placed so that he could watch Anders and keep an eye on Isabela at the same time. Varric glanced in their direction, clearly torn between deciphering the Driazi's timeline and listening to what Wulfric had to say. The allure of the unfamiliar was apparently too strong, however, and the dwarf stayed where he was. The occasional deep hiss floated across the camp, indicating that Varric was attempting to speak the Driazi's language. The unmistakable laughter that followed each attempt needed no translation. But Varric's willingness to try appeared to go a long way toward endearing him to the tall men with the shimmering scales, and even Morrigan glanced his direction with approval.
Fergus found himself sitting on the ground next to Jennie, his knee close enough to her leg that he imagined he could feel the heat of her body. Did she feel it, too? He couldn't tell from her expression or her body language.
Morrigan shooed Arthur across the clearing to assist Varric in his anthropological discussion. Once the little boy was out of earshot and safely engrossed in the storytelling, she cleared her throat, looking down at them all. "At last you are all here. Not that we required quite so many—"
Wulfric put his arm around her, his voice overriding hers. "What my love meant to say was 'thank you for coming, we need your help.'" He grinned at Morrigan, who shifted her feet restlessly.
"Indeed. I am remiss in my manners." Her tone indicated that she found the niceties a waste of time.
"There is a reason they call her the Witch of the Wilds," Zev offered. He grinned as Morrigan glared at him.
"What kind of help do you need?" Anders asked.
Wulfric glanced at the mage, his eyes darkened in a way Fergus didn't like. For some reason, Wulfric wasn't comfortable with Anders being in the party, it appeared. "We have reason to believe that we are going to be attacked. By Flemeth."
"Didn't we kill that old biddy?" Oghren asked. "Sliced her up proper, we did."
"You must have been drunk," Fenris said, frowning at the dwarf. "It is surprising that you can lift your ax, much less remember whom you killed with it."
"If there is a way to permanently kill my mother, I do not know of it," Morrigan said. She added in a darker tone, "Yet."
"So what'd she do, then?" Oghren's forehead wrinkled as he tried to make sense of having killed someone and yet not killed them. In the dwarf's world, dead was dead.
Jennie cleared her throat. "She hitched a ride to Kirkwall. In an amulet."
"Oh." Oghren subsided, apparently deciding that was as clear an explanation as he was going to get.
"What is it that Flemeth wants, exactly?" Isabela asked. Her eyes were focused on Morrigan's face. It was always a bit startling to Fergus to see the sharp, focused brain of the ship's captain inside the fun-loving hedonist facade Isabela liked to display.
Morrigan's gaze shifted across the camp to rest on Arthur. The little boy was laughing at something Varric had said. His face, lit with humor, was achingly beautiful and Fergus couldn't help the thoughts of Oren that leaped to mind. He didn't think he had let those thoughts manifest, but something of what was in his mind must have communicated itself to Jennie, for she reached for his hand, squeezing it. When she would have let go, Fergus held on, the physical contact anchoring him in the here and now and setting the ghosts in his thoughts at bay, at least for the moment.
"Just because he is your child and therefore her grandchild?" Fenris asked. His tone indicated he suspected that wasn't the only reason.
"Do not be foolish," Morrigan snapped.
"There is more to it, but ... I'm not sure if you'd all believe me, and it may not be safe for you to know." Wulfric raked his fingers through his long hair, looking worriedly around the circle of faces. "Arthur is ... special."
"The boy is obviously a mage; power emanates from him." Fenris shivered slightly, the lyrium markings along his arms flashing in the sunlight. "That is no doubt enough for us to know. For the moment."
Morrigan looked at the elf appraisingly. "'Tis a wise man who knows when he knows all he needs to know."
"He's a slave who knows only how to do his master's bidding," Anders said, sneering at Fenris. "Those of us who are free men know that it is necessary to have the full story before we act."
"No one's asking you to act right now, Anders," Wulfric said. "When we need you to act, then will be the time to demand the information necessary to the action. For now, all we're asking you to do is listen. If you can't do that—" He gestured in the general direction of the civilized portion of Thedas. "There's the door."
The two men stared at each other over the heads of the others, all of whom sat silent, but tensed and ready to move if the crackling tension erupted. "You ask a great deal," Anders said at last.
"I ask for trust and friendship. Once you gave those freely."
"Once I gave many things freely. Before I learned to know better."
Wulfric looked away, and Fergus could see a faint flush of red in his cheeks. His brother had done something he regretted there, that much was clear. Fergus would have bet a significant chunk of his treasury, were he a betting man, that Wulfric had slept with the mage in a moment of weakness, implied more than he was willing to give. It wouldn't have been the first time that Wulfric's appetites had gotten him in such trouble. His little brother had taken a long time to learn that his approach to satisfying the demands of the body wasn't taken by everyone, and had littered Highever with broken hearts before Mother had lectured him strongly.
"What is Flemeth going to do?" Jennie asked in the silence that had fallen. "What do we need to protect Arthur from?"
"I don't know!" Morrigan hated to make the admission, it was clear. "I have studied her grimoire, imagined what I would do in her place ... but the possibilities are many, and I cannot prepare for them all. Not on my own."
"You are no longer on your own," Zev said, standing up. He nodded slightly at Morrigan. "We have come to be sure of that."
"Aye. Elf's got the right of it," Oghren said sturdily.
The four of them together looked like a unit, Fergus thought—it took only a glance to see that they were used to fighting next to and depending on one another. Wulfric and Morrigan relaxed a bit in the face of the stalwart support of their old friends.
Fergus gave them a moment to let the relief of having help they could count on sink in, then he stood up. "Where do we start? Fortify the camp?"
Morrigan nodded. "Zevran, we need traps that will slow her down and give us warning. Jitzal will show you where to lay them." She gestured with her chin in the direction of the tall Driazi with the shining deep green scales. "And you are to keep your hands to yourself."
"Not to worry. I find myself a bit distracted from such pursuits recently." Zev's gaze was directed low, resting on Varric's animated face.
"For the best." Morrigan cast him an amused look. "I will set magical wards, as well."
"And the rest of us?" Fergus asked.
"Training. I don't know how long we have, and when she gets here we have to be able to work smoothly together, all of us," Wulfric said. "She was hard enough to kill the first time. We can't afford t make a mistake now."
"What will we do about the Chantry? Their people are certain to follow us," Fenris put in.
Fergus wasn't the only one directing a sharp look Wulfric's way. Most of them assumed Leliana was there for him. But Wulfric's features didn't soften as he said, "Keep your wits about you. We will deal with them when they come." He glanced across at the Driazi. "I think it's important that none of them return to the rest of Thedas to tell the Chantry about this forest and those who populate it. I won't return the Driazi's hospitality that way."
Jennie's hand tightened on Fergus's—he had almost forgotten he was still holding it. She used his grip to pull herself up, and then tore her hand away, walking off into the forest.
"Ser Hawke!" Wulfric called after her, but Jennie didn't turn.
"Her sister's with the Chantry people; one of the Wardens who came hunting us down. Let her go, sweetpea. She'll be back," Isabela said. "Meantime, let's do a weapons check, shall we?" She drew Wulfric away, beckoning to Fenris to follow.
Morrigan watched the three go, her eyes hard.
"He appears to be reformed," Fergus offered, trying to mollify the tension he saw in her.
"Were I you, I would look to my own affairs instead of poking my nose into things you know nothing about," she said with a chilly sniff, rebuffing his first attempt at building a warm family relationship with her. He had to wonder exactly what it was about her that made fun-loving Wulfric so happy. "You are allowing your opportunity to slip through your fingers," Morrigan pointed out when he didn't move.
Fergus followed her gaze to the path where Jennie had disappeared. "Now who's poking their nose into things they know nothing about?"
"'Tis of no consequence to me. But Wulfric would be happier were he to imagine you will be happy once you leave here."
Maybe Morrigan was right; maybe it was time to pursue his future. "Thank you."
Her golden eyes warmed slightly. "Do not waste time ... brother."