Dragon Age
A Thedas Tale
Ch-14 – Fleeing Lothering
Leandra unbuckled the leather strap that held the satchel on her back and it fell to the dry ground with a thud. She pulled out a blanket, folded it in half and laid it out on over the ground, before lowering herself onto it. She was forty and four and felt every year of it. She missed her husband, she missed her home, she missed wearing dresses and she missed Bethany. Bethany was safe - she had to be. Lor, Kael, Alistair and that nice boy, Gilmore, wouldn't let anything happen to her baby girl. But she was terrified for Carver and Ann. It was just the three of them and Kitty and that was her fault. She'd wanted to help the last of the sick and injured into the caravans. They would have left Lothering with the rest of the town, but she'd forgotten Malcom's leather-bound journal and she'd had to return home to retrieve it. She should have left it, but it was all she had left of him.
She looked down at the gambeson tunic, belted at the waist where twin daggers sat on her hips, leather breaches, half-leather gloves and boots that adorned her feet. She never would have thought she'd wear Ann's underarmor, but it had been the right call on her daughter's part. A dress might have gotten her killed if it caused her to trip or it snagged on branches or debris while she was running. Ann was no longer impersonating a solider and no longer needed to wear armor. She'd strapped on her daughter's armor, but she lacked the younger woman's strength and had to settle for what protection the underarmor could give her.
Her children had refreshed the training Malcom had given her long ago on using daggers before they fled, but she knew she was no true fighter and had no magic to help defend them. That being said, she did cook whatever her children or Kitty found and she did help loot from the dead and gather herbs and fungi they would need to stay healthy. She would do what she had to, no matter how distasteful, to ensure her children survived.
They were using a small hill for cover, but they would still need to wait for dusk before they could light a small fire. Dark enough to hide the smoke, but not dark enough to draw attention to the flames. They had to keep it going only long enough to cook whatever the dog or her kids brought to her, then it had to be put out for the night. They took two-hour shifts at night, so that each of them at least got a full six hours. Kitty took a shift the same as all of them. Truth be told, she felt more secure during Kitty's shift. The mabari's sense of smell alone would alert them to darkspawn sooner than anyone else could.
She rose to gather what she would need to start the fire, then she returned to her pallet to wait. The first to arrive was Kitty. He dropped 2 fat pigeons next to her lap. Pigeons, like rats and roaches seemed to survive anything. He likely caught them nesting and also likely already ate the eggs or chicks, but they could not afford for her to turn aside what meager meat they could offer and they were tastier than the rats she'd had to cook a couple of days ago. "Good boy, you'll feast on squab organs tonight." The mabari was eager to eat all the pieces that would normally be tossed in the fire when out on the road. With him around, rarely had she ever had to make organ pie, for which she was most thankful. If Malcom brought home a deer and she was forced to make the pies to prevent waste, the pies were donated to the town chantry to be doled out to those in need.
She shook the cobwebs of the past from her head as she plucked out the feathers. She used the smaller cooking knife that hung from the back of her belt to pull out the organs and chop off the feet and neck. She tossed those to Kitty and started the fire. She had to hope her children returned in time to cook whatever they brought.
Before the squab had time to cook through, footstep brought her hand to her dagger. Though the lack of Kitty's reaction should have told her there was no danger. A moment later her son and eldest daughter joined her at the fire and began dressing the hare and the…was that a raccoon, Carver? She sighed quietly. No sense being squeamish, she'd eaten far worse. At least they would not have to hunt to break their fast, they could eat on the move.
Carver frowned down at his kill. A raccoon. And his sister was able to bring home a hare. It felt like she was always doing everything better than him. Nothing he did could measure up and it hurt. He used the flat of his knife and thumb to pull the hair from the skin once coon was gutted and spitted. When he pulled the last of the hair from its tail, he tied the skin portion in a knot and tossed it to Kitty. Drying hides was a luxury they did not have. But Kitty was pleased by their circumstance. A week into hell and the dog was thriving. "I'll take first shift tonight."
Annalynn looked over at her brother. She wasn't tired, she could use the extra time awake, if he'd be okay with it. "Actually, if you do not mind…."
"I said, I'll take it!" he growled. "You're always trying to do more than anyone else. I'm not a child to be coddled. I saw what you did at Ostagar. You were supposed to remain with the light infantry, but you didn't. Everywhere I was – there you were, babysitting me like I wasn't capable of standing on my own. I am capable, Ann. I've been capable for many years!"
Annalynn's gaze lifted from the flames to meet her brother's icy eyes. "I know that, Carver." A somber breath slipped from her lips. He never seemed to understand her motives or her love for him. "Tell me, brother. If Bethany had been at Ostagar instead of me, where would you have been? Ensuring your younger sister survived or leaving her to her fate?"
Carver's mouth closed with a snap. He wanted to shout that it wasn't the same. That Bethany needed protection. But that wouldn't have been true. She was a powerful and talented mage that their father had trained well. She knew how to protect herself, but she was still just a woman. The words came out before he could stop them. "It's not the same and you know it! Bethany's a woman! I'm twice her size – twice your size! I don't need your protection. It is me that should be protecting you!"
Normally, she did not mind being underestimated, in fact it gave her an advantage. But her brother knew better. She and Bethany were not just women. They could fight with blades and magic and hands and feet, that made them more dangerous than most soldiers. "But you weren't, were you? All you cared about was proving yourself, because you couldn't see that you already had. You were fighting with blinders on and that can get someone killed."
Why was her son so blind? "Carver – listen to your sister. She's right. I was the one that made her promise to bring you home alive. You are a capable man, I never doubted that. But you can be reckless and rash and that terrifies me. It breaks my heart that you refuse to see what the rest of us see. How truly capable you really are." She had faith in her son. What he lacked was faith in himself. "You are a good and strong man, Carver. Your father would be proud."
"You have nothing to prove," Annalynn added.
Ann had been the jewel in dad's eyes. She could do no wrong. She was faster, more agile, more intelligent and stronger in magic than he was. He was afraid for her, though he wouldn't tell anyone why; but he spent more time with her, trained her harder than his other children. And he'd always bragged about her accomplishments. The golden child was never him – it had always been his older sister. "You are wrong. It is you that has nothing to prove. It has always been you. The golden child." He rose, not even bothering to look at them. "I'm going to start my watch," he told them as he walked away.
Leandra wrapped up the rest of the meat in the rabbit skin and tucked it away in her satchel. "He's more like his father than he knows. Thick-headed and stubborn to a fault." A somber smile played on her lips. "I loved that about your father…but that same fault worries me in my son, because he does not yet have the same certainty his father had."
"He will have it -someday," Annalynn told her with conviction. "We all have our own personal demons we must slay before we know who we really are inside. Bethany was afraid to let people get to know her, now look at her, she has a man she loves and people she wants to help. She has slain her demons. Caver will slay his too, when he's ready."
The women shook out their bedrolls, made a quick trip to a hole Carver had dug to take care of business and then returned to their pallets. They laid down and faced each other. "Do you think Bethany is well?" Leandra whispered.
"I know she is, mother. She's with Lor, Kael and a man she loves. They will protect each other. Or maybe Lor will protect them all," she teased. "Now, we must try to get our rest before tall, fair and cranky returns for his beauty sleep."
Come morning, they set out early, eating leftovers for breakfast. They'd been out here nearly a week with no signs of other travelers, but for an occasional corpse and every so often a glimpse of the darkspawn at their heels. But luck, as it is, was a fickle bitch and this morning it had run out. Kitty's barking had alerted them that they were not alone. A few minutes later, they heard the clank of oncoming armor and the stench that rolled ahead of the darkspawn. The tossed the remnants of their breakfast to the ground and broke out into a run.
It was better to outrun them than to risk injury. Right now, fighting was a last resort – survival was what mattered. Carver knew this – he did. That is what kept his feet moving even though he wanted to fight. Needed to even. But his mother's safety came first. He was the man of the family, even if he wasn't the golden child. It was his duty to keep the women safe, especially his mother. And when she started to lag behind, he turned to face the oncoming darkspawn scouts. "Get her to safety, Ann…I've got this."
Annalynn spun around and drew her longsword off her back. She scanned their surroundings and motioned to a boulder not far from them. "Get behind the boulder, mother. When you catch your breath, we'll run again."
Her first instinct was to charge to her brother's side and give the darkspawn a taste of her blade, but it was her mother that needed her more right now. So, while he confronted the scouts, she used her sword like a staff and shot small bursts of magical fire that she augmented with spells that pelted them with rocks or ice chunks. If only Carver wasn't in the way, she'd love to drop a wall of fire over their heads and watch them burn.
When the last scout fell, Leandra rose from her crouch, twirled the daggers and sank them into their sheaths at her hips. She knew her children thought she was weak and mayhap, compared to them, she was. But she would and could fight if she had to. She looked over at the hill they were about to climb and nodded to her children. "I can do this," she told them.
Annalynn motioned with her head for Carver to take the lead, just so she wouldn't have to hear him grousing about her taking charge all the time. She never meant to take charge, she just knew what had to be done and did it. When her brother took the lead, she dropped a wall of fire to cover their retreat. At least they would not be pinned between two flanks of darkspawn.
Near the top of the hill, Leandra stopped to catch her breath. "Where are we even going?" She didn't recall anything out this way, not for a great many leagues.
"Away from the darkspawn," Carver grumbled. "Where else?"
"True," Annalynn agreed, "but we must decide where we're going. I don't know where Lor and Kael's camp is and going to Denerim would be dangerous. Loghain quit the battlefield and allowed the king to die. We can't risk being recognized, because we know the truth of what happened."
"We'll go to Kirkwall," Leandra suggested. She never thought to return home, but they had nowhere else to run to.
"Kirkwall," Carver scoffed. "There's a lot of Templars in Kirkwall. Haven't we spent our lives hiding from the Templars?" he pointed out.
Leandra frowned at her son. "I know we've done our best to avoid Templars in the past, but we still have family there – and an estate. I do not see another choice."
Maybe she couldn't stay in Kirkwall, but she would make sure her family arrived. They deserved a chance to live a normal life. "Then we'll go to Kirkwall. Do we head north to West Hill or …"
The sounds of shouts and clash of steel halted her words. "Stay here!" she told her mother as she darted the rest of the way up the hill. She could hear the thud of her brother's feet behind her as she rounded a bend and saw two people, one dressed as a templar fighting a larger group of darkspawn. Templar or not, she could not simply leave them to their fate. Pulling her sword from her sheath, she charged the fray, a battle cry on her lips to draw the spawn's attention.
With one spawn down, she spun around in time to see the Templar take a sword strike, he stumbled to his knees. She saw the deathblow arching down over him and mumbled a quick spell to send the spawn flying backwards. Another ambled towards him, one that hadn't been caught in the spell and she aimed a burst of magic from her sword, drawing its attention away from the Templar to the larger threat…her. She beckoned it with her fingers, sword at the ready.
By the time the last darkspawn went down, Annalynn was surprised to see her mother make the killing blow. When had she even joined the fray? She watched as her mother sheathed her blades and joined the Templar and solider to offer assistance.
"Stop squirming, Wesley. You'll make it worse," Aveline told her husband as she helped him rise to his feet.
"I've got poultices and healing herbs…let me help," Leandra implored.
"You are more than kind," Avaline replied. "Hold still, Wesley," she told her husband when he swayed as she was working the buckles at his back to remove his chestpiece. She lowered the breastplate and attached shoulder guards to the ground. She then removed the red sash that held on two additional layers of skirting to fully expose the wound that bit into the back of his side, scarring the side of his breastplate.
Leandra poured precious drops of water from her waterskin over the dry poultice to wet it while her children cleared away the darkspawn bodies and set them ablaze. She withdrew the sewing kit from her satchel. She could not properly heat the needle, but the healing properties of the poultice should prevent infection. "Lower him to the ground," she told the ginger-haired woman.
She knelt down next to the injured man and poured water from her skin over the wound to remove debris and blood and then held up the threaded needle. "I'm sorry…this is going to hurt." She quickly stitched the muscle and then the skin closed. She washed the wound a second time to clean it and then pressed the poultice to it. "Hand me his sash." Once she had the length of red material, she wrapped it around his middle, to hold the poultice in place. "There," she said with some satisfaction. "I'm sorry I cannot do more, but it's the best I can do in these circumstances."
"Are you a healer?" Avaline inquired. The Maker must have sent these people to them in their time of need. If they had not arrived, she and her husband would have fallen to the darkspawn.
"Maker, no," Leandra responded with a shake of her head. "But I had a husband and three children and in times of need I assisted the medic at the clinic in Lothering."
"Lothering?" Avaline asked in surprise. "Why that's - "
Wesley saw the two approaching and pushed himself off the ground onto his unsteady legs. "Apostate, keep your distance."
"Why you ungrateful-" growled Carver.
Annalynn waved a hand at her brother. "Had we kept our distance, you would not be here to insult me," she reminded him.
"The spawn are clear in their intent," he said, motioning towards the burning pile of darkspawn. "But a mage is always unknown. The Order dictates…"
"Wesley," Avaline implored, her hand reaching out to grasp her husband's forearm.
He shook off his wife's hand and stepped forward. "The Order dictates…"
Annalynn moved towards the Templar, keeping her body between the Templar and her mother. She felt the heat of her brother's body as he moved up beside her.
"Dear, if they'd intended to harm us, they would have. Nor did they leave us to our fate. They saved us. They mended you, even knowing what you were. The Maker understands."
He released a harsh breath and inclined his head to the two standing before him. His wife was right. They knew what he was. They didn't have to give assistance. They didn't have to mend him. Now was not the time to hunt apostates. And truth be told, he did not have the strength to take them on. "Of course," he said and eased back to his wife's side.
"I'm Avaline Vallen. This is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we're safe from the horde."
A grin tugged at Annalynn lips. "I try not to hate anyone – goes against my cheery disposition. My name is Annalynn Hawke. That's my brother Carver and my mother Leandra. We left Lothering after we saw the town caravans off. But why are you out here? I thought all the Templars left with the rest of the town?"
"I was traveling to Denerim on business for the Order, but I had to turn south when I heard of Ostagar. My wife…." his voice fell away. He turned south to find his wife. He'd needed to know if she survived Ostagar.
"Bad luck – and judgment," Avaline said, with a side look at her husband, "brought us together here before the attack," Avaline admitted. Her husband should have been safe in Denerim. He never should have come looking for her. If he hadn't come, he would not have been injured. "You are the first people we've met…alive, since fleeing Lothering. We've been one step ahead of the horde since Ostagar."
Carver crossed his large arms across his chest. "And that's why you know that we aren't free of them yet. You saw what they did at Ostagar. Soon it will be the whole of Thedas."
Ostagar. Avaline studied the mage and soldier more closely. "You were there? Yes... I see it now. I hadn't realized you were a mage. You fight well with a sword," she told the woman. "But I remember seeing the both of you there. Third company, under Captain Varel."
"Then you saw how the whole of the army was defeated," he replied briskly.
Avaline squared her shoulders. The surly kid had to have seen what happened. He didn't need her to point it out. But she could not let his narrow words stand. "We fell to betrayal, not the darkspawn. This arm of the horde will not have the same advantage."
"Won't they? Loghain is still alive as far as we know," Carver grumbled. "What is to stop him from betraying us again?"
"Lor and Kael and the others that are uniting behind them!" Annalynn snapped.
"Do you think Loghain will let them live?" he growled.
"Carver! Please…" Leandra hissed. "Now is not the time to harbor such thoughts. We must need support them in thought and prayer. I cannot bear to think…please do not speak such bitter words."
Carver pursed his lips in irritation and sent a dark look towards the templar. "So long as the horde remains the first concern, then I welcome another blade between us and the darkspawn."
Wesley was torn between duty, honor and need. Duty was the apostate's capture; honor was a debt to the family for saving them and need…they would not survive without the Hawkes' assistance. "My duty is clear, but that…is for another day. If we are granted that opportunity."
"We'll be fine. We all will," Avaline assured the Hawkes after a quick frown in her husband's direction.
For now, they had no choice, but Carver intended to keep an eye on the Templar. He hadn't spent the whole of his life protecting his sisters to see one of them turned over to the Circle now.
"How bad is that wound?" Annalynn inquired to change the subject.
Wesley slowly balled his hand into a fist and winced as pain shot through his side. "I think my sword arm is a loss, even with the healing."
"Then you will have mine," Avaline assured her husband. "As always." She turned to look at the Hawke's. "For now, we move with you. North is cut off. The bannorns have laid fire to their borders to force the darkspawn around. We barely escaped the main body of the horde."
Carver shook his head. Could nothing go right? "Then we're trapped! The Wilds are to the south! That's no way out!"
"We do what we must. We cannot sneak past fire, brother. West Hill is no longer within our reach. We will head southeast to Gwaren and take ship to Kirkwall. Unless you have another suggestion?"
He wanted to say he did, but that would have been a lie without an answer. Though, he would not admit it aloud, it was a choice he did not want to make. It was far better to let his sister bear the guilt of any consequences. He bore enough weight on his shoulders. "We'll make camp tonight. We'll take shifts as usual. My sister and I will hunt. Kitty – stay."
-BREAK ONE-
Several days later, after giving Wesley some time to recover enough strength to move on, they broke camp and turned south towards Gwaren. In the beginning, conversation was stilted. They were merely enemies thrown together, hoping to survive. Leandra was the only one Wesley even bothered to speak directly to. He treated her fairly and was cordial even. After all, their mother had saved his life. Annalynn did not blame him for ignoring her brother's surliness and watchful gaze. He barely ever even looked at her, at least not when she was paying attention. Though, she could swear she occasionally felt the heat of his stare at her back. She supposed that was better than the alternative. He spoke no more of apostates. She supposed that was his wife, Avaline's, influence. But it was a grateful silencing.
Now, Avaline was more relaxed around them and didn't seem to hold the fact that she was a mage against her and they easily spoke of a great many things. The soldier tried to draw Carver into conversations, but her brother's replies were short and terse. A part of her wished Lor was with them. Her brother was a different man around their friend. But her friend had a far more important job than babysitting Carver. Maker willing, Lor and Kael will succeed in taking the throne and uniting Ferelden against the Blight. Alistair…her sweet, Alistair…she missed him like mad. Why hadn't they all left with him? She had thought she was keeping her mother safely away from the horde, from Loghain's men. She had been wrong. Still…if things had not happened the way they had, Avaline would have been killed by the darkspawn…or worse. Not that any of them were safe yet.
With each passing day, Wesley felt himself growing weaker rather than stronger. He was becoming a burden to the group. Mistress Leandra continued to treat his wound, as best she could, but something was wrong. He could feel it inside, though he did his best not to show his failing strength. He didn't want to worry his wife. His strong Avaline had enough weight to carry now that she was fighting for both of them. He did not wish to burden her further. He would remain strong for her until…no, he dare not think the worst. He had survived worse wounds. He would survive this. He lowered himself to the small fire. "I shall cook tonight, mistress. You and the other women should…refresh at the stream, whilst we are near one." He blinked when he realized that it may have sounded as if he thought she smelled bad. "If such is something you wish to do, that is," he amended quickly, the heat of a flush crawling up into his cheeks.
Leandra laughed softly at the young man's discomfort. "I take no offense, lad. I would do anything for a heated tub of water right now. Streams are too chilled and far between – but much needed, I dare say." She rose and handed the hare to Wesley by its feet. He could be a lovely young man, when he wasn't being a Templar.
Bathing was not what it had once been, due to the possible need to flee at a moment's notice, they removed any outer armor they wore and bathed in what clothing they were wearing underneath. But with the scent of sweat and blood and death on their clothing, their garments needed a washing as badly as they did. Leandra handed the woman each a soap seed that would lather up enough to wash their hair. There was little talk; but it was a comfortable, if not a bit urgent, silence. In the water, without their weapons they were vulnerable, even if the menfolk and Kitty were not far away.
Once finished, they gathered their various armors and weapons and hurried back to the camp. The scent of cooking meat making their belly rumble in anticipation. Wet clothing was not comfortable, but they would dry out soon enough in front of the fire.
Day by day, Leandra slowly began to ease up on her cooking and gathering chores so that Westley could take them over and feel that he was a contributing part of the group. He was a man with a man's pride and she knew no man liked to feel helpless - or worse yet, a burden. In turn, she began to hunt and fight.
Aveline rose from behind the rock cropping she'd used to relieve herself and caught sight of Leandra leaving the rock she'd used. She quickly reached the older woman and placed a hand on her forearm. "Don't think that I do not see what you are doing for my husband. Thank you for allowing him to retain his dignity."
She grinned at the ginger-haired woman. "I had a husband and I have a son, neither made good patients. Giving them something to do, no matter how small, always helped them to feel better about themselves. Everyone likes to feel needed – that their contributions matter."
"You are a wise woman, Leandra."
Leandra grinned. "I am an old woman."
"Nonsense," Avaline retorted with a hard look at the woman. "And I'll hear no more of that talk." She released the other woman's hand and returned to the group.
The older woman watched the soldier walk away. Mayhap there was some truth to her words. She did not tire as quickly as she had when they'd first fled Lothering. That was something to ponder, she mused as she hurried to join the rest of their party – who, it appeared, had been waiting on her. She slowly buckled on her satchel to give Wesley as much time as she could before they had to move out. The man could barely stand, let alone walk. She had no doubt to the pain he had to be in. His skin was turning ashy, and the wound was blackening. Nothing she had done had stopped the strange infection from taking hold. With a frown, she nodded at the others. She could delay them no longer.
It did not take long for darkspawn to poor over the ridge. For the most part, they'd come across scouts or stragglers, but Annalynn feared this would be their toughest battle yet - at least since they'd left Ostagar behind. No matter. There was no turning back.
Before anyone could advance on the darkspawn, a chant fell from her lips and fire rained down upon the spawn. The stench of their corrupted flesh burning was almost unbearable. She swallowed hard and pushed ahead up the hill, the others staying wisely behind her as she continued to drop fire on the advancing spawn. When skirted the flames and reached the top of the hill, she waved the other fighters forward. Unease trickled down her back and she stilled. No sign of darkspawn, yet a sense of foreboding lingered. She held up her hand to halt everyone when the ground rumbled beneath her feet. She scanned the horizon, but dust swirled and danced in the air. There was not enough of a breeze to stir that kind of dust. They were not alone. "Find cover!" she yelled as the shook more violently beneath her. Heavy footsteps advanced quickly.
A massive ogre tore into the clearing, causing everyone to stumble back in shock. She saw her mother hurry to Wesley's side and knew she would try to get the wounded man to safety. She returned her focus to the furious ogre. While the others rushed the beast, she hung back to use her magic. She was damned good with her sword, but too many swinging blades, too close together, could lead to accidental injury to themselves. She'd seen more of that than she'd have liked to on the field. She chose to weaken her enemy with spells while her brother and Avaline hacked mercilessly at it, barely staying out of claw's reach.
The ogre swiped at the bothersome swords, but its gaze leveled on her and it charged. She held her ground until the last moment and rolled out of the way, her hand rising as she shouted a spell to form a fireball. She hurled it low and it slammed into the ogre's lower legs. It spun to the side and fell heavily to the ground, pitching her backwards with the impact.
Another band of darkspawn made it the hill's summit and flanked them and they turned to face the more imminent danger. She slammed her sword into the ground, words flying from her lips. A powerful burst of energy slammed into the spawn and sent them careening backwards. While Carver, Avaline and Kitty faced off with the new threat, she returned her attention to the ogre that was getting to its feet.
She sent a blast of sword-fire at the ogre to gain its attention. Before it could gain the strength to charge again, she spoke a quick hex of confusion and then lifted her hand, slowly curling it into a fist as she tightened the crushing spell on the ogre. Bones snapped, blood flowed from its nose…its eyes…its ears – still she chanted, tightening the spell until its eyes slipped from their sockets and its body caved inward.
She released the spell and dropped to her knees, each breath rushing in and out of her harshly as she tried to recover her strength. No, there wasn't time…the others…she lifted her head in time to see her brother cut down the last of darkspawn. Stabbing her sword into the ground, she used it to take her weight as she rose to her feet. She raised her hand waist-high and softly chanted a darker spell to steal the energy of the dying darkspawn. She shivered as the corrupted energy filled her. It was dark…and oily – made her feel unclean. But it also gave her strength.
Carver was not immune to his sister's struggles. He knew how draining magic could be if a mage could not rest. One thing he was not certain – could the drain kill her? No matter how jealous he was…and he could admit that was so, he loved his sister. He rushed to her side and slipped an arm around her waist. "I've got you, Ann. You can always lean on me."
With her strength returning, she didn't need to lean on him…but she wanted to. For herself and for him. So often, they were at odds. But for the moment, they were one. "Thank you, brother. I fear I rather outdid myself today. In a few moments, my strength will return and we can continue."
"No one was injured too badly," Avaline told them as she approached the siblings. "We could all stand to sit a spell." She grabbed her shoulder and rotated it to ease the stiff feeling. "But we must leave this place soon."
"Agreed," Carver stated with a nod. No sooner had the words left his mouth, Kitty's ferocious barking brought their attention to the clang of armor as another wave of darkspawn joined them atop the hill. His arm fell from his sister's waist and he pulled his greatsword. His mouth fell open as more and more spawn poured into the clearing. "There is no end to them!"
"Maker, grant me strength!" Annalynn murmured as moment before her voice rose in chant, dropping a wall of fire between them and the darkspawn. She knew that wouldn't hold them at bay for long, so she changed the chant, dropping fire through the spawn ranks. A deafening roar startled her, stilling her words and she turned to see a large dragon unfurling its wings behind them. Well, hell.
With another roar, the dragon launched itself from the ledge, diving straight towards them. They all dropped to the ground as the dragon shot overhead, spewing fire at the darkspawn horde. It grabbed up as spawn that had been missed by the flames and flew high into the air. It released the body and spun back around, landing hard on the ground, the tremors causing the ground to quake beneath their feet. More fire shot from its mouth, its spiked tail swiping the burning spawn. It gripped a single remaining spawn in its talons and turned in a whoosh of flame.
The old woman rose from the flames, dragging a darkspawn by her hand as she approached the group that had drawn her attention. Powerful magic had brought down an ogre – that had been intriguing. But who among them could do such a thing? She released the dead darkspawn and quirked a brow at the swords standing ready. "Well…well…what have we here?" She quickly took the measure of each and settled her gaze on the one that emanated power. Interesting.
Annalynn tore her eyes off the old mage when she heard clanking behind them. Aveline was helping her husband to the ground. It did not look like he would be getting up any time soon. He did not look well. She could feel the burning of the old woman's gaze and turned to face her once more.
Flemeth pursed her lips. "It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now it seems they arrive in hordes!"
"Great," Carver grumbled, "a mage that can turn into a dragon!"
She tilted her head and studied the large soldier. He resembled the young mage. Family then. "Perhaps I am a dragon. If so, count yourself lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite." She returned her gaze to the mage. This one was special. "If you wish to flee the darkspawn," she said before she turned to look out at the horizon, "you should know you are heading in the wrong direction."
Carver took a step forward when it appeared the mage was leaving. "So you're just going to leave us here?"
"And why not?" Flemeth inquired with only a half turn of her head. With a sigh, she turned to face the group. "I spotted a most curious sight – a mighty ogre, vanquished with magic!" She slowly walked towards the mage. "Who could perform such a feat? I have met few mages with that kind of power. But now my curiosity is sated, and you are safe…for the moment. Is that not enough?"
"You could show me that trick of yours. Flying…frying darkspawn, what more could a girl want during a Blight?"
Oh, I like her. Flemeth laughed. "I daresay you are quite right. Such a clever tongue for a mage! Tell me, clever child – how do you intend to outrun the Blight?"
"Well, I suppose if I cannot fly, I will have to run very fast indeed."
Carver scowled at his sister. "We're going to Kirkwall – in the Free Marches."
"Kirkwall?" An interesting place to go…for a mage. "My, but that is quite the voyage you plan. Such far…just to flee the darkspawn."
Where did the old mage expect them to go? It was a Blight – unstoppable without the Grey Wardens. It would soon cover all the lands. "You may be right…I hear the Deep Roads are vacant now." Annalynn quipped.
Laughter burst out of Flemeth. "Oh, you I like!" Her laughter died away as a feeling washed over her. Yes. Special. "Hurtled into the chaos, you fight…and the world will shake before you." This mage would shape what was to come. She didn't know how or why, but shape it she would. She turned her back to the group, deep in thought.
Annalynn blinked. The mage. She finally realized who the mage was…the witch Alistair had told her about. The one that had rescued him and Kael. Flemeth. The witch of the Wilds.
Flemeth folded her arms over her chest. "Is it fate or chance?" she murmured. "I can never decide." She stilled. It didn't matter. It would appear that she needed them as much as they needed her. She turned to face the young mage. "It appears fortune smiles on us both today, I may be able to help you yet."
"Of course," Annalynn smirked. "And the catch is?"
The young mage was good for an old soul. She laughed again. "There is always a catch. Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can!"
Carver forced himself not to take a step away from the mage. Something about her was unnerving. "Should we even trust her? We don't know what she is!"
"I do…Flemeth. Her name is Flemeth," Elvie told them. "She saved Alistair and Kael at Ostagar."
"Clever, child," the old woman murmured. "Ostagar has led me to meet the most interesting people."
"She's the Witch of the Wilds," Aveline added with a frown. She was not certain they should even be talking to her, much less trusting in her.
Flemeth shrugged. "Some call me that. Also, Asha'bellanar . An 'old hag who talks too much'!" She chuckled. "Does it matter? I offer you this – I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do that for a Witch of the Wilds?"
"To get my family to safety, I would return the favor no matter the title you go by. But as a dragon, you could head north and fly over the horde and deliver the package faster than we could go around the horde. It does not make sense to ask us to do it."
"So clever you are. While I am a skilled mage, even I cannot be in two places at the same time. I have an…appointment to keep. It is far more convenient this way. Happily, you are not without your own needs. There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall." She removed the amulet strapped to her belt. "Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full." She glanced down at the templar and nodded to herself. "Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter…."
Aveline looked up when she realized heads were turning to look in her direction. Realization dawned. Wesley. No…not Wesley. She jumped up, placing her body between the witch and her husband. "No! Leave him alone!"
The templar meant nothing to her, but his death served no purpose. And that was unfortunate. Flemeth held the woman's gaze. "What has been done to your man is within his blood already."
No! She wouldn't hear it! She couldn't! He would get better! He had to! Avaline squared her shoulders. "You lie!"
Wesley groaned and forced his eyes open. "Listen to her, my love. I – I can feel it. The corruption…it's inside me. The darkspawn…the blood…" his voice broke when a harsh bout of coughing overwhelmed him. "I hoped otherwise, but I knew…I knew I was tainted."
Avaline swallowed hard. She'd tried to ignore that he was weakening. She'd tried to tell herself he'd get better, but she knew it was a lie. She'd known it for some time. Facing that lie was the fiercest foe she'd ever faced. "Then…how long before…." Her words failed her.
"He is not long for this world," Flemeth told her quietly. "If I am any judge."
That explained a lot. Annalynn nodded. "That is why my mother's healing did not help."
Flemeth inclined her head towards the young mage. "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."
Avaline's head fell with the weight of that news. Then there was no hope left. "They all died at Ostagar."
"Not all…" Annalynn said quietly. But she had no idea as to where Alistair and the others were right now – if they were even still alive.
"She is right," Flemeth agreed. "but the last are now beyond your reach."
So be it. Then she would stay at her husband's side, while the others fled. She would not leave him.
Wesley saw the harsh resolution that settled on his wife's face and knew she would not leave him. "Avaline." When she hunkered down at his side, he could no longer make out the color of her eyes. "I need you to…"
She could see pain in his now milky eyes. Her hand lifted to his cheek. "You can't ask me to do that! I won't!"
His head rolled as he tried to force his muscles to move into her touch. "Please…the corruption is a slow death. I can't…
Annalynn's heart broke for her. She could not imagine having to take Alistair's life. The thought alone nearly brought her to her knees. She knelt down next to the couple. She'd felt the need to say something …but what? Nothing she could say could ever ease what Avaline was going through. "He loves you, Avaline. He knows what he is asking of you would take more strength and courage than anyone should have to bear. He is asking for you to release his pain… to end his suffering. He wants to go to the Maker knowing you will survive. And with your survival, he will live on through you."
Strength and courage. She had never failed in either before. The mage read her all too well. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. But that was for another time. With a resolute nod, she turned once more to look upon her husband.
"Be strong, my love…" The taint was spreading like icy fire through his veins. The thought of disgracing himself by begging…or crying - but he was so close to doing both. The agony was tearing him apart from the inside.
For what would be the last time, she unbuckled his armor and set it aside. His hand fluttered at his side until it grasped his dagger and pulled it from the sheath that hung from the belt on his robes. She watched as he settled the point of the dagger between his ribs, over his heart. But he did not have the strength to see it through. No, it was her burden to bear. He was relying on her strength and she could not fail his last request. She placed her hands over his. When he mouthed a silent 'thank you', she nodded and she shoved down hard upon the hilt, feeling the knife sink into her husband's flesh with only the slightest bit of resistance. There was a whoosh of breath, but could not bear to watch the life fade from his eyes.
After a moment, she lifted her head to look upon him. His face was relaxed, his eyes sightless. He suffered no more. She reached up and closed his eyes. "Rest at the Maker's side, my love," she murmured quietly.
It was done. When soldier rose to her feet, Flemeth approached her back. "Without an end, there can be no peace. Your man is proud of what you were able to do for him." She turned, once more, to face the horizon. "It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."
There was no time to build a pyre. The most they'd been able to do for Wesley was locate a depression in the land and pile stones gently over his body.
-BREAK TWO-
For the first several days, Flemeth took the skies to scout a path through the horde, often having to create one where none existed, while their party followed in her wake. During times of rest, the dragon would disappear. Sometimes, they would catch site of her napping high on an outcropping of rock. Rarely did she join them unless she needed to discuss the route ahead.
As time wore on, there were some mornings where she was absent all together and they were forced to fight through any darkspawn they came upon, but she would always arrive at some point to clear the way once more.
It took them nineteen days to reach the point where they could see the outskirts of Gwaren in the distance, but the dragon could go no further. With a tip of her wing, Flemeth turned in the air and headed back in the direction of the Wilds.
The horde was not far behind them and they were forced to pick up their pace. If the horde reached the city walls before they were aboard a ship, then they wouldn't make it out of port – too many people would be fleeing. Remaining silent, despite how unsavory the notion was, was their only hope.
They pooled their coins to buy passage aboard a ship bound for Kirkwall. They were forced to pay extra for Kitty and there were precious few coins left. As they stepped down into the darkness of the hold, Annalynn looked up through the wooden grate one last time before it closed behind them. They had been the last of the passengers to board.
The hold was dark and cramped. It reeked of fish, waste and unwashed bodies. "I really wished Flemeth had taught me that dragon trick," she grumbled.
Leandra leaned back against a support beam. "So do I, dear. So do I."
The passengers took turns going above deck to stretch their legs and relieve themselves over the railing. As days turned into weeks, the stores of food began to rot in the warm, damp air. The fruits were the first to be eaten. Now, they were primarily down to bread and cheese. They had to beat the weevils out of their hardening bread – though many chose to eat it bugs and all. Mold was scraped off cheese and water and dried meat had to be rationed.
As terrifying as the storms were, queasy bellies did relieve the ration burden. But it did nothing for the stench of the hold. Few braved going above deck when the ship was being tossed like a child's ball. Instead, they were forced to relieve themselves in the farthest corners.
One afternoon, a shout came from above. Like rats, the people swarmed up out of the hold and rushed to the railings. Black cliffs rose up on either side of the ship. Lining those cliffs were massive statues of slaves bent in despair. Rather cheery welcome, that.
They were forced to wait their turn for a vacant spot to berth the ship. When they were finally released, the stone laid floor felt strange beneath their feet, their legs continued to wobble as they tried to get used to the stillness beneath their feet."
"Remind me to never board a ship again," Avaline stated with all due assurance. For better or worse she did not see herself ever returning to Ferelden. She would make due here, because she had no intention of ever boarding a ship again.
"We're home now – you won't need to. There is room in the estate for all of us…you'll see," Leandra assured them.
Annalynn was stunned by what she was seeing. Almost every entry point had an iron portcullis, many of which had been lowered, keeping them corralled in a central location. "What is this, a prison?"
"Great. Just great. Are we really any better off here?" Carver groused. "Templars, prisons…How is this a home?"
"You worry too much, Carver," his mother told him.
"Look," Avaline said as she pointed at a group of guards. "They're not letting anyone into the city."
"Are we really surprised," scoffed Carver. "Everyone is fleeing the Blight, just as we are."
Avaline shook her head. "And they would throw us all back to the wolves. Unbelievable."
"This won't do – we need to find Gamlen. Our family has always been highly regarded in Kirkwall. He can do something, I'm sure of it!" Gamlen would fix this. Amell's would never be denied entrance. Leandra believed that with all her heart.
Carver's lips pursed, but he nodded. This wasn't his home – but it was his mother's. "Then let's hope he received your letter."
Avaline watched the guards' reactions as the family talked out their concerns. It gave her time enough to see how things were done. "The guards seem to be reporting to that man. Perhaps we should speak to him."
"Good enough for me," Carver stated as he forced a path through the crowd so they could reach the soldier in charge.
"Get back to the crowd, you lot. Trying to bully your way through won't get you into Kirkwall any faster!" The guard warned.
"But you do intend to let us in?" Avaline asked in a voice that did not brook an argument.
"Ha! We gave enough poor of our own in the Free Marches. We don't need you refugees piling up like a middens heap!"
"What is this place – some kind of prison?" Annalynn had to ask, she couldn't shake an uneasy feeling that slithered through her.
"It used to be, before the rebellion. Now the templars run it and use it to lock up their mages. Guess not much has changed."
Annalynn ignored her brother's hard stare. "Does that mean your mages are imprisoned here?" The unease was making sense now. She was in the last place she wanted to be. At a Circle. A circle with iron bars.
The guard shook his head. "Well, no more so than anywhere else. It's a Circle of Magi now. Magic is to serve man, not rule him, and mages are better locked up where they don't hurt anyone."
"Why aren't we being allowed into the city?" Avaline cut in to change the direction of the conversation. She did not want too much scrutiny to come to bear on Ann. Mage or not, Ann was a good woman. A strong woman. A fair woman. And she did not deserve to be thrown in prison out of fear. She had never shared her husband's duty concerning mages. A person either proved themselves to her or they did not.
The guard shrugged. "If it were up to me, I'd bar the gates and let you find somewhere else to beg. But it's not. Some of you lot might have legitimate business in the city. So, Knight-Commander Meredith wants us to sort you all out. Most of you are getting right back on your ships, though."
His words made no sense to Avaline. The city guard should not answer to the templars. "Why do you care what the Knight-Commander wants? She's a templar – not a city guardsman."
"We don't answer to her," the guard said with a slash of his hand. "But she's the power in Kirkwall." He frowned. Now that she'd mentioned it, he found it concerning. "Don't know what would happen if the viscount went against something she wanted….but he's sure never taken that chance."
Annalynn sighed. This was getting nowhere fast. "If you cannot help us, then at least tell us to whom we need to speak with."
He shook his head at the futility of it all. "Yes, yes…always the same story. You want in, talk to Captain Ewald," he said with a motion behind him. "I'm just here to keep you refuse from climbing the walls."
Behind him were stairs to the right. Time to get into the city. They maneuvered around the guards and took two sets of stairs up, following the only open pathway…to the right, which opened up into another common area along with more soldiers and a handful of people.
Her brows rose when a refugee took his anger out on what had to be Captain Ewald.
"Let us through, you flaming blighter! We're not staying in this pit!" the man growled.
Ewald took the blustering all in stride. He'd heard it a hundred times before. "Then get back on your ship and leave. Kirkwall has no more room for refugees."
"The ship's already gone!" the blonde responded quickly. "We paid good coin to get here!"
The guard rubbed the back of his gauntlet carefully across his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "You and half of Ferelden. There nothing I can do. The city is full!"
Annalynn moved in next to the agitated group. The city couldn't be full. Some were getting in. "We were told you were letting in people who have business in the city."
"That's right!" the ruffian cut in. "We've seen you let lots of people through!"
"Citizens and merchants that make it worth our while." He looked over the newcomers. "I assume that you don't have any more coin than these gentlemen?" he asked motioning to the irritating group with his thumb. "We've been letting you Fereldens in for months. You're too late. There's no more room!"
Carver couldn't bear to see his mother turned away. It didn't matter if he was – he could take care of himself. But this was his mother's home and she wanted to be here. "But we've got family here!"
Ewald rolled his eyes. "I've heard claims like that a thousand times already. Trust me. We'll find some ships to take you all back to Ferelden – eventually. Until then, you stay here."
Again, this was tediously getting them nowhere. Sweet. She could be sweet. Annalynn smiled. "If you find our uncle, Gamlen Amell, you might just have a few less refugees bothering you."
His brows rose. "Gamlen? I know that name…"
"He's a nobleman here in the city," Carver said, trying to refresh the man's memory. "Our family has an estate."
The guard cleared his throat, biting back a chuckle. "A nobleman? The only Gamlen I know is a weasel who couldn't rub two coppers together. He comes back, I'll bring you to hi. But I don't have time to -"
"What!" the ruffian cut in. "You're going to let them through?"
"I didn't say anything about -"
The blonde took an aggressive step forward. "We've been here for four days! They just got here!
"That's it!" the ruffian bellowed and drew his swords. "We'll carve our way into the city. Men!"
She drew her sword when another group, who'd been waiting in the shade, charged at their leader's call to arms. In this place, she would fight by sword and sword alone. The runes glowed on her sword as she fought side by side with her family and guardsmen alike. The runes would not be an issue. Many paid a good deal of coin to rune their weapons.
Kitty went after the archers. He was nimble, fast on his feet and lightly armored archers made for easier prey. Not that he would shy away from a heavily armored human. He wouldn't. But his pets were safer if he took down those that fought at a distance.
She rolled over the back of the shoulders of a man that was sinking to his knees, she sword arched down, slicing through another man's neck in its descent. She parried a blow, when another stepped towards her. Her foot shot upwards, contacting with the bottom of his chin. His jaw snapped shut with a spray of blood as his body was flung backwards. Annalynn nodded when he didn't get back up and turned to survey the commons. Her family suffered no real injuries. One guard was nursing a wound on his side, but not a single aggressor was standing.
The captain checked on the injured guardsman, nodded and turned back to the group that had assisted his guards. Had they not chosen to help, he and his men would have been woefully outnumbered. "Unbelievable."
Lower guardsmen rushed up from below. "Captain! Are you alright?"
"I am, no thanks to you. Where is everyone? Go find them. I want this kept under control!" When his guardsman left, he nodded to woman with the runed sword. Her party appeared to take their cues from her, so he would as well. "You have my thanks. Look, I'm sorry. I can't get you into the city. It's not my decision, but I'll find your uncle and bring him here."
She smiled and inclined her head. "We appreciate any help you can give us, captain. Until then, we will remain close in case you find need of us again."
Three of the group fought like seasoned soldiers. He doubted the guardsmen would need their assistance again, but he would not turn down a sword if it kept the gallows in check. "Your generosity speaks highly of you." He motioned over one of his men and sent him in search of Gamlen.
One day became two. The slept on their bedrolls, bought only enough bread and cheese from the merchants to stave off starvation and waited to hear news about Gamlen.
Come the third day, Avaline's patience was wearing thin. She paced as she kept watch for any disturbance. "It's been three days. This waiting has to end."
"I'm sure it won't be much longer," Leandra assured her. "Gamlen must still be looking for us!"
"And if he's not?" Avaline queried.
Gamlen approached the group from behind, they hadn't seen him yet. Part of him wanted to turn around before they had, but he kept walking. It was hard to believe his sister was back after all these years. He never thought he'd see her again. Part of him wished he hadn't. With a sigh, he squared his shoulders. "Leandra!" When she turned towards him, his lips twitched. "Damn, girl, the years haven't been kind to you."
His voice was gruffer, but she'd recognize it anywhere. "Gamlen!" Leandra hurried towards him and flung her arms around her brother.
Reluctantly, he hugged her back. "Let me say up front, I wasn't expecting this. The Blight, your husband dead…I'd, ah, figured you'd pretty much be Ferelden for life. I don't even know if I can help you get in."
Annalynn stepped forward. "I'm more concerned about mother. Can you get her in, at least?"
Leandra shot a hard look at her daughter. "No! We stay together!"
"Look, I've been hoping to grease some palms, but the knight-commander's been cracking down. We're gonna need more grease," Gamlen admitted. A lot more grease. He couldn't very well turn family away, but he didn't have to like them being here.
That made no sense to her. But neither did her brother's soiled attire. "But…what about the estate? Surely father left something when he died."
He raked a hand through his grey hair. Yeah…this was going to go over well. "Right, about the estate…It's, uh, gone. To settle a debt. I've been meaning to write you."
No! How could it be? What would they do now? "Then there's no hope…"
"Not quite," Gamlen told her with a shake of his head. "I know some people who might help…if you're not too delicate about the company you keep."
She rubbed her hands over her face, giving herself a moment to compose herself. "I still can't believe you sold the estate, brother."
"Well, I didn't expect your blasted family to show up on my doorstep. Look, I've got a nice place in Lowtown. You'll see. It'll all work out!"
"Then we'll try another city," Avaline put forth.
Gamlen shook his head. "Every city on the coast's been hip-deep in Fereldens since the Blight. You could try your luck further inland; I suppose. But it won't be easy."
"No," Carver growled. "We're not putting mother through that. This is her home. We're staying here." His finger stabbed towards the ground to punctuate his stance on the matter."
"Then it is decided. How do we get in, uncle?" Annalynn inquired.
About time. "I talked to my contacts and I found some people who might be willing to pay your way into the city. The catch is you will have to work off the debt. For a year."
He expected her children to do what? "A year! That's -that's insane!"
"It's the best I could do, sister! Trust me when I say a bunch of refugees won't get a better option anywhere else. I've convinced them to come to the Gallows to meet you personally. Meeran heads up the mercenary company, the Red Irons. They are looking for recruits. Athenril…I guess you might call her a smuggler. Either one can help you. You just need to convince them you are worth the trouble."
Annalynn looked over at Carver. "Is this something you're willing to do?"
"If it keeps our mother here, I am."
Fine then. Merc or smuggler. There was really no choice. "I'm not a bully for hire. We'll talk to the smuggler."
"You can find her down there," he said, motioning to the left.
"And what of me?" Avaline asked. "I will not allow others to incur debts on my behalf."
"Can't see that it makes a difference," Gamlen scoffed. "You look like a lady who can pull her own weight."
Leandra smiled at the soldier. "Avaline, we have been through so much together. I want you with us."
That was truly kind, but then she'd never known Leandra not to be anything but generous. "I feel the same way. Thank you."
"Let's do this," Annalynn said as she watched her mother and uncle move off to catch up. She was glad Bethany wasn't here. She didn't want her sister anywhere near this city. What she was about to do for the next year, she was not proud of. At least her younger sister did not have to fall with her.
She hurried down the stairs and turned left through the commons square. There she saw a leather clad elf. "Are you Athenril?"
Athenril knew of the groups approach, but ignored them until they addressed her. She turned to face the woman that spoke. While the woman did not look much like Gamlen, she could see the square-jawed older man in the human's brother. "You must be Gamlen's niece. Interesting." She had been told she was a mage and had not expected to see a mage with the resolve of a soldier. "I don't know what he told you about us, but he certainly told us a great deal about you."
Carver cleared his throat and looked around to see if anyone else was within hearing range. "Er…how much, exactly?"
The elf grinned. "Enough to pique our interest, provided you can justify your uncle's confidence."
"How did you become one of my uncle's contacts?"
"Ha. Is that what he calls me?" Athenril grinned. "He owes us after that last big idea. If you turn out, though, we'll consider things even."
She wasn't sure what that 'last big idea' was and it didn't look like the elf intended to go into details about it. Perhaps her uncle would. "What would we be doing for you?"
"That is simple. We don't compete with the thieves; guild, but we keep our fingers in a lot of pots. That said, we're not killers or slavers. Anything short of that, however, is fair game."
"I don't like this," Avaline grumbled.
"We don't have a lot of choices," Carver pointed out. "We smuggle or we bully city-folk for the highest bidder."
"You have a point," she conceded. Neither option set well with her, but she would deal with her conscience later, after they'd worked their debt off.
"I hear getting us into the city will be expensive."
"It is. But if you are as good as your uncle claims, we're hoping you'll be worth it. After all…" A grin spread over Athenril's lips. "It's not every day we're offered an apostate's services."
A long, slow breath slipped from her lips. "It appears my reputation precedes me - thank you very much, uncle."
"Knowing what you are ensured that I would be interested in obtaining your services." She shrugged. "The templars in Kirkwall like to think they have all the mages properly leashed, but when has that ever been true?" Athenril winked at the mage as if it were naught but a conspiracy. "We can keep them from taking notice while you're with us."
The elf's words were parchment thin. If she were to be seen using magic, not everyone could be bought off. Nothing was that simple – or that sure. But, again – what choice did any of them have? Annalynn looked from her brother to Avaline. With their nods of agreement, she turned her attention back to the smuggler. "What do you need?"
Good. If they proved themselves, then the deal was sealed. Athenril did not expect them to fail. "There's a merchant named Cavril. Friend of the templars, so they let him set up his little shop here in the Gallows. We supplied him in return for a piece of the take, but now he won't pay up. We can't go near him without him screaming for the guard – but you can. Get our money from him and you're in."
As they moved away from the smuggler, Annalynn slid a glance over at Avaline. "What do you think?" Avaline had voiced her uncertainty and she wanted to make sure her companion was accepting of what needed to be done.
"It's a shakedown, pure and simple," Avaline replied with a shrug. "But a well deserved one. I'm ok with that. I'll do my part to ensure he pays his debt."
Annalynn had remembered passing a merchant on the way to speak to Captain Ewald. If he wasn't the merchant Athenril was talking about, no doubt he'd point the poor man out just to get them to leave. She led them back to the main square and turned left, heading towards the merchant's shop. She could hear him arguing with someone, even from a distance. She kept her gaze centered on the merchant, not wanting to look too closely at the statues of tormented slaves that lined the stone columns of the Gallows.
"I've already told you. I can't give you any more for them!" The merchant's voice was hard, with no give.
"But that was everything we have! It's all we brought with us!" the refugee woman wailed.
A dramatic sigh preceded his words. "And I feel for you, serah, but it's the best I can do."
The refuge's hand wrung in desperation. He had to listen – he had to. "If they let us into the city, I could get three times that price!
He turned away from the woman with a slow shake of his head. "Myron?" He prodded his muscle.
The masked man stepped up into the woman's personal space. "Your business is done."
Annalynn could only watch the dejected woman walk away, unable to obtain the funds to get into the city. There wasn't anything she could do. Perhaps she at least had coin enough to eat until arrangements could be made for a ship to take her out of Kirkwall. At least she knew what kind of man she was dealing with.
"Now then! What can I do for you, serah?" The merchant asked. Hopefully, this one would have something better to offer – dare he even hope she intended to purchase anything?
Her eyebrow arched upwards in what was almost a half-smirk. "Hopefully more than you could do for that poor woman."
He sighed again. "What am I supposed to do? Buy every piece of furniture these people dragged with them? I'm running a business, not a charitable order. I'm sorry."
"I imagine the profits help with the guilt," Avaline snarked.
Annalynn flashed a quick smile at her friend. That was a good one. Wished she'd thought of it first. "I believe you owe your business partners something, Cavril."
Of course. They weren't buying or selling. "Oh…I see."
"Should I go tell the guards?" Myron's deep voice rumbled.
Whatever could refugees do to him? That Athenril would send such riff-raff – it was unheard of. "Not just yet. I want to hear this. So," he said when he returned his attention to the poor smelly sots that dared to bother him, "Athenril sent you to collect, did she? Too cowardly to do it herself?"
People underestimated her all the time. Her pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes lent a look of innocence…purity even. The sword on her back changed nothing of their opinion of her – and she used that misjudgment to her advantage if she needed to. This time, however, she didn't need to. She wasn't dealing with this reprobate alone. For all of Carver's size, he still had the air of a boy. But Avaline…she was no dainty woman. Her face was hard and her body muscled. "Avaline? Tell him how this is going to work."
"Why don't I show this toad instead." Each word cold and hard as she stepped forward, dagger drawn and at his throat before his lackeys could draw their weapons. "You have a choice: pay, or I beat it out of you and your men."
The woman's words wrung with confidence. It was obvious she knew what she was capable of. Three against three were not good betting odds. Not that he cared about his lackeys. Besides, they were there to look tough. He didn't pay them enough to risk their lives for him. No, he would be the first to die. "Stay back! Just…take what's in the chest. Take it all!" Cavril exclaimed, all but throwing the key at them. When the dagger lowered, he took a step back and rubbed his forehead. "Now, I'm getting out of here." He did not even look back as he walked away from his stall, leaving them to their ill-gotten gains. "Let those guards find someone else to buy dog-land junk!" he grumbled. "I'm done with it."
Annalynn used the key on the chest and retrieved the coins from within. "Hopefully, this will cover the merchant's debt."
They returned to Athenril, eager to pay her and acquire the coin they needed to get into the city. She held out the bag of coins. "The merchant gives you his regards," she said as she dropped the coins into Athenril's waiting hand.
She hefted the weight of the bag and nodded. "I'm sure he did. Tell your uncle we'll make the arrangements. Welcome aboard."
-BREAK THREE-
She searched the Gallows until she located where her mother and uncle had nestled down to talk. The pair rose from the stone bench as they drew closer.
"Any luck?" Gamlen inquired.
"Yes," she told him. "Athenril has agreed to help us."
"Good. I'll speak to Athenril and see when the bribes can be made. Wait here."
With that, her uncle hurried off. "Not much else we can do," she mumbled under her breath.
Carver crossed his arms over his chest. "I guess we did it. We're here to stay, at least for a while."
"What happened in Ferelden won't happen again. We'll save what we can and leave as soon as we hear the horde is coming." She lowered her voice, her lips twitching in amusement. "I'll also see about becoming a dragon."
The bribes were paid to the Captain later that day and Gamlen led them to his flat in Lowtown. It was a small two-bedroom dwelling.
For the first few days, they used their bedrolls in the main room. Spare time was spent building beds from logs, ropes and straw. Eventually, Carver shared a room with Gamlen, and she, her mother and Avaline shared the second room. Kitty slept by the fire.
They each did little side-jobs to earn a bit of coin when they weren't smuggling, possessions, artifacts or people in or out of Kirkwall. They didn't earn anything for the work they did with Athenril – not unless they were tipped. But the coin they earned through their side-jobs allowed them to purchase cheap clothing and supplies for the home.
Avaline's side-job was with the city guard. Within a few months, she bought out her debt with Athenril and moved into the barracks. Annalyn was happy for her friend. Avaline was doing something she enjoyed – something she was good at. And while she, herself, was getting good at smuggling, it was not something she enjoyed. In fact, she had no idea what she would do when her year ended with Athenril. She had few skills she was good at. She was good at war: fighting, tactics, even leading. She was not good at taking orders, so the city guard wouldn't do for her. She was relatively good at healing…though more so through magic than her knowledge of herbs. Again, not at the top of the list of things she should be doing. Her parents taught her how to farm and survive off the land. But there was certainly no need for that in Kirkwall. That left her sword. Was that really all she could do with her life? Rent her sword arm out for money? At least, she had months to go before she had to decide her future.
Eventually, word spread that Ferelden had a new king and queen and that the Blight had been defeated. Annalynn wanted to leave and go back to Ferelden – back to Alistair. Although, her time was nearly up with Athenril, she could not bear to leave her mother in Lowtown and her mother had no desire to return to Ferelden. There was nothing for her mother back in Ferelden. But she had her brother here, even if he was a surly goat. Her mother had told her to go, that she'd be fine. She had Carver and Gamlen. But she could not shirk her duty to her mother. So, she did the only thing she could do. She sent a message to King Kael to be delivered to Alistair. If she could not yet return to him, mayhap he could come to her.
When she was finally free from her debt, she turned her focus to bringing in coin. She did nothing illegal or too immoral, despite the coins those kinds of jobs could earn. She wanted money, but not at the cost of her soul. Many of the jobs she took bordered impossible and required magic and isolation. If she didn't think she could pull the job off without being seen, then she didn't accept it. No one really cared how she got a job done, so long as she did. She would also heal those she could in Lowtown and Darktown, but again – she required that she be alone with the patient or there would be no healing. Healings tended not to earn coin, instead she would be paid with services owed – such as washing or mending clothing…sometimes even favors. A loud thud drew her attention from her thoughts.
Carver settled next to his sister at the table, wishing he'd not slammed his bowl on the table quite so hard. Some of the stew had sloshed over the sides. He wiped at it with his thumb and sucked his thumb into his mouth, licking off the mess.
She shuddered. "Really, Carver. That's disgusting,"
For the moment, they had the place to themselves. Who knew where uncle Gamlen was and their mom was cleaning some rich, fat lady's house. He'd tried to stop her, but she refused to be idle. He didn't like it, but he understood it. He ignored his sister's reprimand. "You said you were going to stop!"
She blinked. "Stop what?"
He shoved a piece of hard bread into his stew to soften it. "You know what! The healing! You risk too much, Ann – and you aren't even getting paid!"
She could not refute that. It was a risk. No one ever saw her use magic, but some people might question her methods. "I never said I was going to stop – you did. I said I wouldn't get caught…and I won't. Look, Carver, I know there's some risk," she said pinching her fingers together, so only a small ribbon of light could be seen between them, "but it's only a tiny risk. And each healing I do helps me to atone for what I did under Athenril."
He swallowed the bite of soggy bread and tossed chunk back into the stew. "Unbelievable! We did what we had to, nothing more. What do you think it would do to our mother if you got locked away in the Gallows? She and our father sacrificed everything to keep you and Bethany out of the Circle!"
She dropped her wooden spoon into her empty bowl. "I know that, Carver! I lived it too!" She breathed out a calming breath of air. "You are good with your sword. It is a part of who you are. Would you give that up just because it's dangerous? Would you give it up so mom would never have to worry? Parents worry…it's what they do. Nothing can stop that. Trust that I am careful, Carver. But I will not stop living my life. I will not stop being who I am – it would tear me apart."
He slopped his bread around in his stew, to cover more of it. "You're a pain," he groused.
She rose, collected her bowl and bent down to kiss his forehead. "So are you, little brother. I'll be heading out to patrol with Avaline for a bit."
"She thinks I'm a surly goat."
"That's cause you are."
"Arse!" he grumbled.
"Hairy arse," she retorted as she slipped out the door with a laugh on her lips and Kitty at her heels.
