Chapter 34
Lothering's Hero

Lyra opened her eyes to the afternoon sun, which had decided to come out from its hiding place in the soupy clouds that had held sway all morning. After their tryst with Flemeth, a nap had seemed like just the thing.

"Hey, you're awake."

Lyra sat up and stretched, giving Alistair a sleepy smile. "You woke up before me."

"You were sacked out." Alistair poked the coals of the fire he sat at, stirring it to life. "Want a sandwich?"

She was on the verge of saying yes when a horrible, cramping nausea turned her stomach inside out. Dark chills raced in her blood, and cold sweat broke over her skin. Squinching her eyes shut, she pressed a hand to her middle, holding her breath in an attempt to regain control of herself.

"Darkspawn," Alistair's strained voice opened her eyes again. "A lot of them. They're coming... Come on. We have to warn the village!"

Staggering to his feet, Alistair took her hand and pulled her along. Lyra suppressed a chill, hoping she wouldn't throw up. "Is that what I'm feeling?" she gasped.

"You can feel it?"

"I'm about to vomit all over you."

"Congratulations. You're a full Grey Warden. Now tamp it down."

Lyra breathed deeply as Alistair coached her through the nausea, fighting back the sickening feeling. They tore into the main square of Lothering. Alistair took a stance in the middle of the bridge as Lyra brought herself back from the brink of illness.

"People of Lothering, hear me! Darkspawn are coming, and they'll be pouring out of the woods in only a few minutes. Anyone who owns a weapon, please join me on the battlefield! We can save Lothering yet, but we must hurry!"

It was like kicking a hornet's nest. People began rushing madly about, crying, shoving, and tripping over each other.

Alistair shouted again. "Fighters, assemble in the field past the windmill. Everyone else, get women and children to safety. Bar your doors, go down cellar. Do not stop to take valuables - take food for an evening meal and blankets for the night, and go!"

He turned next to Lyra. "Warn Bodahn, and rally our troops. I'll see you at the windmill." Grabbing her arms, he kissed her hard, then dashed away.

Lyra swayed, forcing down another wave of nausea. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated... then felt control returning. The feeling was still present, but not overwhelming.

And now she could sense direction, and numbers... no less than fifty, but probably not more than a hundred. A large band, but not the catastrophic ending she had feared. The Archdemon was nowhere to be found.

Her stomach calmed, Lyra raced to Bodahn's wagon, but he was already packing up. "Can you handle it, Bodahn?" she shouted over the din of people.

He nodded. "I'm prepared for this, Lyra dear. Don't worry about me and Sandal - we've got a hidey hole just for us! Take your people, and go kill the 'spawn!"

She grinned, and called Zevran and Leliana to help. The three of them gathered Sten, Wynne, Morrigan and Kestrel from the campsite. In minutes, everyone had assembled at the windmill.

Alistair was shouting instructions to the assembled fighters, and more were trotting up as he spoke. Some had armor, some had leather jerkins. Others wore the linen clothing they'd stood up in that morning, and a few were bare-chested. One man gripped a huge axe that Lyra was certain was used primarily on tree trunks. There were many who held bows, as well. She saw Eve Hawke with a dark-haired young man. Her brother, she thought. Both wore beat-up armor bearing the sigil of Cailan's regiment. Eve had a longsword, and Carver was holding a huge, two-handed bastard sword. Bethany was not in sight.

It was a motley group, but Lyra was encouraged by their numbers. There were at least thirty fighters, in addition to their group of seven, plus Kestrel. A few other mabari were present as well. It would not be a rout.

Lyra's heart lifted. Buckling her helmet into place, she walked to the front of the army and stood by Alistair.

"Darkspawn are mindless," he told the crowd. "They will go for the easiest kill - do not give it to them! Strike hard and sure, and they will fall. Be careful of the blood - if anyone is cut or injured, leave the battlefield immediately. It only takes a drop in your system, and you're finished. The Taint will kill you as surely as the Darkspawn, and it is not a pleasant death. My fellow Grey Warden and I will be out in front, and we will do everything we can to kill as many as possible before you need draw your own weapons.

"Archers, to the front! When the Darkspawn emerge, fire at will. When they come too close, withdraw and continue to shoot from a location you deem safe. Swordsmen, choose a partner and watch each other's backs! Do not let them flank you! Questions?"

There was some shuffling of feet, but for a hastily organized gathering they seemed surprisingly ready. Lyra smiled at Alistair's leadership of the group. In a crisis, he was marvelous, and it made her proud.

Alistair continued. "The only heroic thing to do here is survive. I am immune to the Taint, as is my fellow, and our risk is therefore less. That is why Grey Wardens exist. So do not think to come help us. Allow us to kill as many of them as we can before you join the battle."

His speeching finished, Alistair turned next to Lyra. "Ready?"

She nodded, and pulled her sword.

The assembled fighters gasped as it flamed a brilliant gold and orange. Alistair drew his sword as well, his blade crackling with lightning. The two of them strode toward the edge of the woods.

The sense of nausea grew almost unbearable, and Lyra broke out in beads of cold sweat.

"I'm going to throw up," she whispered.

"Not right now you're not. Deep breaths," Alistair said sternly. She did her best to comply, but the nausea grew until she thought it might consume her.

There was a rustle in the treeline, and then Genlocks began pouring out of the brush. Alistair charged toward them, shouting a battle cry. Lyra's feet carried her forward with him, and she heard her own voice screaming at the Darkspawn.

If the Darkspawn were afraid of the noise they were making, they didn't show it. Bloodlust shone in their heartless eyes, madness shrilling from their mottled throats.

In only seconds, Lyra was surrounded. She began whirling, her blades tearing through skin and bone. Wet thwacks echoed close by, arrows blossoming in the bodies of the Darkspawn. Lyra sank her dagger into the neck of a screaming Genlock, and as she pulled it free she slashed with her sword and decapitated another. Another Genlock pounced on her, and she drove her short blade into his ribs, shoving the monster off. It fell to the ground, and she plunged her sword through its chest.

Alistair's sword sent bolts of electricity rattling through the bodies of every enemy it touched, stunning them. He bashed out with his shield, sending three and four Genlocks at a time skidding to the ground. Obscenities poured from his mouth as he taunted them, daring them to come and kill him. They responded savagely, clawing and biting at one another to get at the man, even abandoning Lyra to try and swarm him.

Alistair's shield bashed out again, a wave of Genlocks flying away. Lyra flanked them, dancing nimbly over their bodies. She stabbed with dagger and sword, ending their lives before they could rise and attack again. Runic fire spread from body to body, and the Genlocks howled with pain as they were set alight.

Alistair taunted the Darkspawn again. They continued to rush him, consumed with the need to tear him limb from limb. A sudden burst of flame, and Lyra glanced over to see Morrigan with her staff, sending bolts of fire zooming toward the enemy. Wynne was casting as well, and more Genlocks fell to the ground as they were hit with stones and clumps of earth. Lyra raced to the trees to meet more of the Darkspawn head on as they flooded out of the forest.

A Hurlock met its end on her blade, and another Genlock hissed at her as she slashed its neck with her dagger. Suddenly she was knocked backward, and her head hit the ground with a sickening thud. The world disappeared for a moment, and she awoke screaming as a Genlock yanked a dark blade from her stomach.

A grunting moan lifted from her throat, her fingers curling into the sticky warmth that oozed from her belly. Wynne was beside her in a moment, and Lyra felt the warm, soothing touch of her healing magic as her guts knitted themselves back together. In a moment she felt whole again, and Wynne raced off to help someone else without a word.

Morrigan was fully in the battle now. Bolts of lightning and flame flew from her staff and fingertips. Leliana had joined the fight as well, blades flashing as she tumbled artistically through the Darkspawn. Zevran was at her side, his fighting style swift and savage. A handful of dirt was flung into one Hurlock's face before the slender elf thrust his blade into the creature's belly. She didn't see Alistair, but after a moment she heard his yell as he tried once again to draw the Darkspawn away from the other fighters.

Taking an experimental breath, Lyra pulled herself to her feet, amazed to discover that she didn't even hurt. Renewed, she charged toward Alistair, screeching a battle cry. The Darkspawn spun to meet her with slavering jaws. Weapons twirled in slashes and stabs, pain and death dealt out with every swing. Sten's bastard sword curved in a long, powerful arc. Blood flew as he cleaved a Hurlock entirely in half.

"Watch the blood, Sten!" Lyra yelled.

The Hawke siblings were doing impressive damage as well. They stood back to back, killing the Darkspawn with controlled, efficient strokes of their weapons. Wynne darted around the battlefield, applying healing magic or helping people get away.

Kestrel was in his element, snarling and tearing throats from the Darkspawn. He leapt nimbly from body to body, twisting to avoid blades, leading the other war dogs in a pack of snapping teeth and messy, violent death.

The Darkspawn were thinning. It didn't seem possible that it could be over so soon, but no sooner had the thought crossed Lyra's mind than a tingle of nausea writhed in her gut, and from the treeline crashed a huge Ogre.

"Maker's ass," Lyra muttered. The grass swished as she pounded toward the beast, Alistair's bone-rattling yell rending the air as he, too, charged. The Ogre roared, daring them to come.

Lyra felt its stinking breath bathe her in a wash of rot and dampness, and she drove her sword into its navel and twisted. It shrieked with rage and swiped at her with enormous hands. She let go of her sword and jumped back, leaving the blade embedded in the Ogre's stomach.

With a grunt of annoyance, the Ogre looked down and wrapped its ham-fingers around the blade to pull it from its body. A fatal moment of distraction.

Alistair leaped. His sword sparked purple, the blade singing as it connected with the Ogre's neck, neatly separating its foul head from its body.

The corpse dropped to its knees, then collapsed into the grass and lay still.

All was silent, and then a slow cheer began, which grew to a roar. The warriors of Lothering rushed Alistair and Lyra. They were mobbed by dozens of joyful, enthusiastic people. After a heady moment of chatter, Alistair pushed his way free of the crowd to address them all.

"Lothering, your battle is won! Well fought, my brethren. But this is not the end. The Blight is coming, and that group was only the beginning. My fellow Warden and I must leave in the morning to continue to warn Ferelden, and all of you must leave as well if you wish to live. Tomorrow, if you have the means. I can sense the Darkspawn, and I think the next group is less than twenty miles away in the Wilds. If this battle is any indication, they will be heading here."

"Where can we go?" one man shouted. "Our homes are here!"

"Go to Redcliffe," Lyra told them. "They have jobs and homes to spare. Many of their citizens were recently killed by an evil which has since been eradicated, but it has left the village sorely in need of able-bodied men and women. Travel with us, if you'd like - we leave in the morning with the merchant Bodahn, and our next stop is Redcliffe Village. Bring only what you need to survive - food, clothing. Your most precious possessions are your lives. There isn't time to waste on trivialities."

The folk of Lothering dispersed, talking quietly amongst themselves, many of them making plans to leave with the Wardens in the morning. Lyra hoped most of them would come. She couldn't feel the same things Alistair could, not yet, but she was certain he was right when he said the Darkspawn would be coming, and in greater numbers. If they couldn't save people, then what was the point of being a Warden?

.oOo.

"This is a zoo," Lyra laughed.

At least a hundred had shown up to follow them to Redcliffe; most of the population of Lothering. They carried their things on their backs, or pulled carts. One girl had three goats on a tatty rope lead, and another family was pushing an enclosed cart filled with chickens. There were mules and even a few milk cows, one of whom had a calf that bleated mercilessly.

"Have you seen the Hawke family?" Lyra asked, her eyes skimming the bustling crowd.

Alistair shook his head, distracted, then gave a friendly smile to a young girl who ran up and gave him a hunk of cheese wrapped in linen.

Lothering was worshiping Alistair. All morning he'd been receiving gifts, everything from a new whetstone to bouquets of flowers to offers to polish his armor. It didn't matter what Alistair kept trying to tell them - that they'd done just as much fighting as he had. They would hear none of it. He was the hero of the day, and Lyra enjoyed seeing him put up on a pedestal. She didn't even really mind when groups of giggling young women came to blush and stammer, admiring his sword and asking to see the lightning.

"This is crazy," Alistair told her during a lull. "You were death incarnate on that battlefield. And Morrigan must have killed ten at once with that fire spell. I saw it. She saved my ass once. Why are all these people convinced that I'm the one they should thank?"

"Alistair, you are the one they should thank," she laughed. "You sensed the Darkspawn, you rallied the townsfolk. You told them what to do. And then when it was over, you told them what to do next."

He looked uncomfortable. "I just did what was necessary. That doesn't make me a hero."

"Of course it does, you big, loveable idiot. And believe me, these people need a hero right now." She looked out across the mass of humanity that followed Bodahn's caravan. "You're the perfect hero. So quit fighting it and enjoy it."

Alistair sighed, then grinned. "If you insist." He unwrapped the linen, revealing a piece of fine cheddar cheese. "Want some? Oh wait, you're not the hero... I'd share, but this is hero cheese."

"You're an ass," Lyra snickered, then snatched the chunk of cheese from his hand and took a bite.

They walked all day. Alistair and Lyra struck up a conversation that afternoon with a young family; a husband, wife, two small girls and a newborn baby. Lyra cooed over the infant, and the tired mother allowed her to carry him for awhile while he slept. Alistair swung one of the girls up on his shoulders, and she squealed with delight to be riding so high.

Lyra smiled at the handsome Warden, charmed by the way he answered the little girl's questions and pointed out interesting things in the landscape.

This is what it would be like, Lyra thought sadly. In another life, in another world. She looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms and kissed his forehead lightly, brushing her nose along his eyelashes and the soft, eider-down of his cheek.

.oOo.

Morrigan walked alone, observing them quietly and listening to their talk. Her hands gathered plants as she walked, some for dinner that evening, some for medicinal purposes. She resolved to speak with Lyra privately, once she had studied the grimoires.