Nathaniel had heard the reports weeks ago. The explosion in Denerim had been successful, that much he knew, but where was Neria? Surely she should have been back by now. King Harrowmont's intelligence had reports that the templars were hunting the Grey Wardens, Neria in particular. They were rumors that she had been captured and other rumors were she had escaped.
King Harrowmont himself showed up at Nathaniel's room in the Royal Palace one day.
"Don't get up, lad," he told the Grey Warden. "I've had some interesting news. A large group of templars has been spotted in pass just before Orzammar."
"Maker's breath," Nathaniel swore, "Do you think they're marching on Orzammar?" He didn't think the Chantry would have the audacity to declare war on the dwarves.
The King laughed, "No, I don't think your Chantry is that crazy. It's not exactly an army, perhaps a dozen templar and some scouts and trackers. I'd be willing to wager they're looking for an easier target. Perhaps your compatriots? We haven't heard anything from them since Denerim. Perhaps they're trekking through the mountains to get here."
The King unrolled a detailed map of the area around Orzammar. He pointed at one area on the map. "The only reasonable way to Orzammar is through the pass. It was dug out of pure stone. If you don't go through the pass, you need some serious mountain climbing skills to get through."
Nathaniel looked at the pass. "It looks like the perfect place to cut someone off from Orzammar."
"Aye lad, and it's long and twisty. They could be ambushed easily anywhere along the path."
"How long would it take to get there from here, do you think?" Nathaniel asked.
"A day at a good clip," the King said.
"Then we'd better set out first thing in the morning."
Harrowmont pulled on his beard for a moment. "You've only got two recruits with you. I have no doubt you're fierce warriors but I think you'll be outmatched against a dozen templars. I am going to send some of my guards with you to ensure that the templars don't intend to make any trouble. For Orzammar, of course." The King winked at Nathaniel. "They'll be ready at first bell in the morning."
Nathaniel thanked the King. During the rest of the day he restocked their provisions and got Roth and Dagmar ready to go.
...
They had managed to stay ahead of the templars that were following them and were less than a day from the pass when Dworkin suggested the pass was an excellent place for an ambush. Oghren nodded and Sigrun agreed as well.
"Do we have a choice?" Neria asked. "Is there any other way to Orzammar other than the pass?"
Dworkin frowned. "The reason the pass was made is because it's a steep, sheer climb otherwise. You'd need some serious mountain climbing equipment to go any other way."
"Could the templars behind us be driving us towards a trap within the pass?" Neria asked.
Dworkin nodded. "That's what I would do. I would have split the forces in two, one stays on the road and waits somewhere in the pass. The other would track us. When we get to the pass we might be squished, like an overripe lichen berry, between the two."
Neria bit her lip considering. "Perhaps we should confront this force before we're driven to the pass and have double the amount of templars to deal with. Or at least we can try to slow them down."
Dworkin pulled something out of his pack. "Remember all that lyrium sand you found for me?"
Neria nodded.
"Well, I had enough left to make some bombs. Up ahead we might be able to make a pretty good rockfall that will slow them up some."
"I think Anders and I can make their going a little slower too. Could you rig up a tripwire to set off a bomb? We could leave a nice oil slick on our path and the flames would ignite it."
Dworkin giggled and rubbed his hands together. "Of course!"
They stopped to set their traps, taking the time even though it meant the templars following them would be drawing dangerously close. When they were finished they continued their hike to the road. On the way Neria and Anders iced the path they knew the templars would take. The footing would be dangerous.
It wasn't too long before they heard an explosion behind them and saw a cloud of black smoke rising into the sky. That would be the flaming oil slick. Then there was another blast. That would be the explosion to cause the rockfall. They couldn't see what, if any, mayhem they had wrought. They could only continue their press to the pass.
Neria kept her fingers crossed that they had at least given themselves the breathing room they needed to not get caught with templars on both sides of them in the pass. Or perhaps they'd be very lucky and Dworkin's guess of a waiting templar force would be wrong.
...
The idiot doesn't even realized he is addicted to lyrium. Actually, he shouldn't have been surprised, most of the templars don't realize it. They've never really been without it so they don't recognize the symptoms. Certainly the Chantry would never admit there was any issue with giving the templars high doses of lyrium. Harrith shook his head in frustration. Trying to get through to Tavish was trying his patience.
"... so the reason you keep seeing visions, Iwan, is because you're not getting enough lyrium," Harrith explained patiently for what seemed like the fiftieth time. "If you were getting a full dose of lyrium your hallucinations would go away, eventually. But because the Grand Cleric is being a stupid git we aren't getting anymore lyrium supplies and we're running out."
Tavish nodded. "Then I didn't really kill Neria? That was just a vision? Or a hallucination?"
Not this again! "Neria is dead. It isn't important. The Grand Cleric is important. She is plotting against the templars by taking away the lyrium from us." Perhaps if he simplified the message it would work better. "We have to stop her, Iwan. She's trying to have us all killed."
Harrith droned on and on, repeating his new simplified message. Finally it seemed to be taking hold in Tavish's mind. Tavish might not be exactly a finely-tuned weapon but he might just work and Harrith wouldn't have to risk anything himself. Now he just needed to convince the Revered Mother to allow Tavish to resume his service and be her right hand again.
...
Alistair finally summoned the Grand Cleric, he needed to be certain she was going to comply with the decree from Orlais and find out what steps she was taking to recall the templars she had sent after the Grey Wardens.
"Your Majesty sent for me?" the Grand Cleric said.
The Grand Cleric's skin had taken on an unhealthy hue, Alistair noted. She must be under a lot of stress with most of her templar forces disabled and her archenemy seemingly out-maneuvering her at every turn. Alistair noted her templar guard was reduced to about half of what it normally was. One of the fellows looked rather ragged, barely able to stand at attention, his hands clasped and unclasped at his side.
"Indeed, Revered Mother. I received a copy of the decree from the Divine in Orlais and I wanted to inquire what your intentions are." Alistair did not invite the Revered Mother to sit.
Her mouth puckered a little at the question. The wrinkles that ran vertically around her lips deepened giving her the look of someone who had just sucked on a lemon.
"What a curious question, Your Majesty. Of course I will honor the Divine's request..."
"Decree." Alistair interjected. He wasn't about to let the Grand Cleric believe that she had any option but to obey.
"Semantics!" she snapped back. "Anyway, as I was saying, I have sent a messenger to recall the forces searching for the Grey Wardens."
"Just where exactly are those forces?" Alistair asked.
The Grand Cleric's expression lightened and she lost her lemony look. "I actually have no idea. Last I heard they were tracking them to Orzammar, but they could be anywhere between here and there."
"How large of a force did you send after them?" Alistair asked.
"I believe there were twenty templars and a few trackers."
Maker's breath! Alistair swore to himself. They'd never be able to handle that many. "Trackers? Why would you need trackers? Don't you have Neria's phylactery?"
The Grand Cleric shifted uncomfortably. "It had been replaced with pig's blood."
Alistair couldn't help the tiny tug at the corner of his mouth.
"So are you telling me you may end up attacking the Grey Wardens even after this decree?"
The Grand Cleric shrugged. "What more can I do? One cannot recall the arrow after it has been released."
Alistair shook his head. "Your actions may get the lyrium cut off permanently, if the King of Orzammar takes offense. King Harrowmont is a great supporter of the Grey Wardens and of Neria Surana in particular."
The Grand Cleric looked nervously at her templar guards. They were inscrutable in their helms. Most of them knew by now, thanks to Harrith spreading the news, why their numbers had been so severely diminished in Denerim.
Alistair noticed the shifting and looks exchanged. He saw one templar nod to another and then ringing of steel on steel as a sword was drawn. Then there was a blood-curdling yell as one templar ran the Grand Cleric through. His blade sunk into her side, passing easily through her gown. The Grand Cleric looked down in surprise at the sword sticking out of her and slowly sank to the floor, blood slowly unspooling from her body.
"She's working for the blood mages!" the templar yelled. "She's trying to get us all killed!" He ranted on and on as the other templars reacted. One quickly unsheathed his weapon and sunk it into an open spot in the other templar's armor. The ranting templar slowly sunk to the ground, his own blood adding to the growing pool.
"Sweet Andraste!" Alistair stared in horror. His guards closed in on the templars. They raised their hands, showing they were no threat. The one templar that struck the one that murdered the Grand Cleric removed his helm.
Harrith bowed to the King. "Your Majesty, I apologize. I feared he would harm you." Harrith glanced down at the templar's body. Tavish had fulfilled his role beautifully.
Alistair gestured to his guards. "It's all right."
It wasn't. It wasn't all right at all. Granted the Grand Cleric had been a royal pain in his ass for months, but now who would replace her and how would they get the treaty signed in the meantime? Alistair ran his hands through his hair and left the audience chamber to find a stiff drink.
...
"It's not that bad, Alistair," Eamon assured him later. "You'll appoint a Revered Mother, one far less zealous, as interim Grand Cleric until the Divine can appoint someone new. We can get the treaty signed now and reaffirmed once the position is filled."
"Now we just need to wait and see if we're going to even have a Grey Warden force left alive," Alistair poured himself another glass of brandy and ate another chunk of stilton.
The two men settled on Mother Hannah, the Revered Mother of Redcliffe Village. She was a solid, sensible woman that Eamon had known for most of his life. She would be a perfect Grand Cleric.