Chapter 14

Duncan finally stopped walking as the sun was low in the sky and moved off the road to make camp. He had said earlier we would be making one stop before Ostagar. We would be going to Highever first, where he was supposed to meet with Teryn Cousland. I wasn't fond of the idea about being around human nobles again, but if Duncan trusted him he couldn't be all that bad. We couldn't stop in many towns, meaning we would be camping and eating what rations he had in his pack. He tossed me a bed roll and I caught it silently, trying to remember the last time I had been outside of the city, it must have been twelve years. I barely remembered my time with the Dalish when I was a child, but I remembered the forests and camping.

"Do you know how to set a tent?" Duncan asked me and I looked at him and shook my head. "You'll need to learn, and now is as good a time as any." He waved me over and showed me how to stake the tent and which knots to tie.

I picked it up quickly and the tent was set within just a few minutes. He built a fire before tossing me a chunk of bread and dried meat. I didn't feel hungry, more nauseated than anything, but I knew I had to eat so I ate slowly. I stared into the fire, my thoughts wandering once again to the alienage, to my family, and if they were okay.

"You're much quieter than your mother was, or at least I remember her being." He said suddenly, and I glanced at him, my eyes welcoming the relief of staring at the fire. "You haven't said a word or asked a question all day, I'm sure you have plenty."

"I do, but my mind has been elsewhere." I answered, going back to my food, hoping that the comfortable silence would return.

"You asked about Garahel earlier, I have the time to tell you know if you'd like." He continued and despite me wanting silence my ears twitched and my curiosity got the better of me.

"You said he stopped the Fourth Blight, but I've never heard much of him." I said quietly and he smiled before telling the story.

Garahel had apparently been a city elf who grew up in an alienage and joined the wardens alongside his sister who was a mage. He became a griffon rider, at which point I had to ask about griffons, and quickly proved himself to be charismatic and a great leader. Being able to pull together hundreds of people to fight the blight. He died from his injuries after slaying the archdemon. It was an interesting story, one that I wish I had heard earlier. An elven hero that everyone respected and showed honor to, all because he was a grey warden. Would people show me that kind of respect now?

No. That was hundreds of years ago, the shems will still look at me like I'm trash. I thought bitterly, before glancing at Duncan. Mother was right though, not all humans are shems. Some show us respect and treat us as people.

"Your thoughts, they have been back in Denerim, haven't they?" He asked me and I sighed, before nodding as confirmation. "Valendrian is a smart man, he'll protect the people."

"From people who can be reasoned with, but if a mob were to come down on the alienage for what I've done their blood is on my hands." I answered, looking down at the cracked, dried blood underneath my fingernails. "I killed so many men today, and I did it without hesitating once. A few of them didn't attack, or get the chance to defend themselves, but I cut them down all the same." Flashes of the manor, the pools of blood, the smell and taste of iron, clanging of blades, echoed in my mind.

How many men did I actually kill? It all blurred together after one point, I just kept fighting without a single care. Every human I saw ended on the floor, choking on their blood. I wasn't kind about it either, I let them suffer. Letting them bleed out as I stepped over them, stabbing them through the stomach, their backs, their necks. They suffered at my hands, despite everything that they had done to us, I wasn't any better then them. There were so many easier ways to have done things, things that would have left less of a mess, but no. I was focused only on making them suffer by my hands. I counted back in my head, of all the men I killed.

"Twenty-eight men, I killed twenty-eight men today." I finally told him, looking up from my nails and at Duncan. "To the humans, they could reason to kill everyone in the alienage all because you saved my life." I laughed bitterly.

"You are a Grey Warden now, even if you are just a recruit. Your life before that won't matter much to anyone I assure you and you don't have to tell anyone." He told me, before pointing to the sword on my belt. "I was intending to recruit you and give you that blade when I arrived, Valendrian tried to marry you off before that could happen." He explained, and I was taken aback. "The fact that I conscripted you and saved your life from hanging was circumstance."

"Did you intend for me to go on a killing spree through the arl's castle?" I asked him, which actually made him chuckle.

"I wasn't expecting that degree of trouble no. But you did what you did to protect yourself, save your friends and family." He answered before standing up and pointing towards the tent. "Get some rest, we'll be leaving at dawn and I'll be waking you up before that to keep watch." He told me.

I didn't say anything as I walked into the tent and sat on my bedroll before pulling off my weapons belt, armor, and gloves. Putting them neatly next to my pack at my feet before laying down and turning to stare at the cloth side of the tent. I looked back down at my fingernails and slowly started to scrape at the blood, trying to get it off. But it seemed to be stuck, not just under my nails, but in the cracks of my knuckles, as if it was permanently staining me. I could still feel it on me, still smell it, still tasted it. I knew that it wasn't rational, that there were only bits of it in my hair and staining my hands. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, I felt like I was swimming in it. I had enjoyed it at the time, killing them. Taking years of pent up rage and annoyance out on them, as if they were the source of all my problems. But they weren't. They wouldn't be the last men that tormented me, and would likely be far from the last of them.

Sleeping was difficult, to say the least. I tossed and turned most of the night and when finally falling asleep I would only be wakened by nightmares. Vaughn's laugh echoing in my head, men groping and grabbing me, pulling at me, treating me as a toy for themselves. Nightmares I hadn't had in years only to return in fervor, with worse images of what I could imagine what Shianni went through. Images of killing the men, a grin on my face, getting sprayed by their blood, the feeling of it caking my skin.