A/N: This story loosely follows the world I've built in "Rend Asunder" and "Retribution." It's not totally necessary to have read those before this. Off we go!
CHAPTER 1: THE EDGE OF THE ABYSS
"Warden Commander, we've—"
"As I have told you several times, I'm not the Warden Commander."
The young man shuffled on his feet, his eyes sliding away to look anywhere but at the icy blue ones that glared at him in exasperation. Loghain had had years to perfect the look; it hadn't failed him as a young poacher, a nobleman, or a Grey Warden, and it certainly didn't fail him now. "I do apologize, Warden Loghain. It's just that you're the senior Warden here since Warden Commander Clarel died, and I assumed—"
"Assuming makes an ass out of you and me." Loghain sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The nausea resulting from falling into and out of the Fade had mostly subsided, but the roaring headache showed no signs of letting up. His ribs felt like they had been kicked over and over again, each breath a fight between filling his lungs and not wanting to make the pain worse. He would likely have a stitch in his ribs for days, not to mention the colorful bruises he would have from head to toe. It was, however, more welcome than the maddening itch the false Calling had instilled in him. While his physical wounds would heal, the distress caused by the false Calling and escaping the Fade would linger far longer.
As if darkspawn nightmares weren't bad enough. Now they would be joined by demons traipsing about.
The young Warden was still there, waiting for Loghain to continue. "What do you want, Lucius?"
"The name is Warden Lancelinus Martin. Lance." He bowed slightly. "Adenin has died of his wounds, and Elena hasn't shown much progress. Also, the mages say that the battle here has thinned the Veil precariously in several places. Stronger demons could find a way through."
Darkspawn or demons, or darkspawn and demons, Loghain thought. He looked around the courtyard of Adamant Fortress. Their numbers were few indeed, with many having perished at the hands of Livius Erimond's enslaved Wardens, the demons, or the dragon thrall. Thankfully, the Inquisition army was still milling about the fortress, their numbers smaller than when they came, but still outnumbering the Wardens significantly. "Take Adenin's body to the pyre and have one of the healers do what they can for Elena. As for the Veil, I will speak with Inquisitor Trevelyan and Commander Cullen. I will advise her of our findings and request her help in keeping watch." Loghain turned on his heel, moving toward where the Inquisition's army had made camp. He wondered if proffering this advice and asking for their assistance again would be too bold, especially after the rebuke the Inquisitor had given the Wardens a short while ago.
They were partners now, for better or worse.
Inquisitor Trevelyan was right, however. The Grey Wardens were vulnerable, more so than any of them had realized. Word of this vulnerability would spread quickly in the coming days; while the Grey Wardens never claimed to be infallible, they did enjoy a certain mystique about them. They would have much work to do in rebuilding their reputation and regaining the trust of those outside the order. That meant assuaging the Inquisition first, and then finding someone competent to lead the Orlesian Wardens while he journeyed to Weisshaupt to report on what had happened here. Carmen Trevelyan might trust Loghain himself, but that didn't mean the whole of the Inquisition did. The looks her bald elf companion and the Seeker had given the Wardens surely didn't convey trust. Still, the Inquisitor had seemed a reasonable sort in the aftermath of the day's events. She could have outright banished them.
The Inquisition's forces were in the main courtyard of the fortress, preparing their own camp for the evening. Several fires had been lit and a number of men and women were moving about, cooking meals and tending to the injured, while others erected tents to shelter against the searing winds that often brought blowing sands within the walls. They had also created a pyre outside the fortress for their dead, with solemn words and prayers said for every corpse added to it. Any demons that managed to pass through the Veil wouldn't find host bodies to inhabit, which increased everyone's odds of survival. The thought of seeing friends and colleagues die twice was horrifying.
Carmen and Cullen Rutherford, the commander of the Inquisition army, were standing next to each other, looking out over their forces and the remains of the courtyard. "I don't want to stay here any longer than a day," Loghain heard Cullen say. "We need to get Erimond back to Skyhold as soon as possible. Lingering here too long could allow the Venatori to rally their forces. The last thing we need is for them to assault both Adamant Fortress and Griffon Wing Keep in a rescue attempt."
"I agree," Carmen said, her arms crossed over her chest as she saw Loghain approach. She gave him a nod of acknowledgement. "Send a rider to Griffon Wing Keep and let Knight-Captain Rylen know that we've taken Adamant, but to remain vigilant. Griffon Wing is an important outpost; I don't want to lose it to avenging Venatori. As for returning to Skyhold, we should go back as one group. With luck, any random Venatori between here and Skyhold will be reluctant to attack an entire army to try and free Erimond."
Cullen looked at Loghain warily. "True, but they could try to influence the Grey Wardens again and turn them against us, attack us from within. Or, perhaps, use their magic to launch a direct attack." Loghain simply returned the stare, his expression stony. The years that had passed between the Blight and now hadn't made them any less skeptical of one another.
The Inquisitor nodded. "Going as a large group will offer us safely. You know the saying, 'protection in numbers.' We'll dispatch advance scout teams to flush out any Venatori in the area. That will give the Wardens a breather and our troops can get a little payback. You know, drive that dagger into Corypheus a little deeper and twist it."
"Perhaps Movran the Under and his clan will run into the Venatori on their way to the Imperium," Cullen said as he rubbed his chin. His fingers made a slight rustling sound as they brushed across the stubble there.
"One could only hope," Carmen said. "Have you heard from him lately?"
"Their last message said that they had been near Lake Celestine along the Imperial Highway. The clan stopped there to hunt and fish before continuing toward Val Royeaux."
"Oh my. I'm sure the sight of an Avvar clan will cause quite the scandal there." A grin pulled on Carmen's lips. "I still can't believe he actually threw a goat against Skyhold," she said with a chortle. "Would have been more polite to knock. Good manners never go out of fashion."
A matching grin also appeared on Cullen's face. "Polite, yes, but it wouldn't have been nearly as... effective."
"It's a good thing we were able to get the blood off the walls; that wouldn't have made a good impression on our visitors," Carmen said. Loghain watched as she glanced at him again and held up a finger, silently asking him to wait a little longer before speaking to Cullen again. "Anyway, that's it for now, Commander. We'll talk later."
"As you say, Inquisitor," Cullen replied, nodding his head at her. "I will see to our men. Tonight, we rest." He gave Loghain one more look, then moved off toward the Inquisition army. After calling out a greeting to a soldier walking by, he lifted the lid to a nearby cooking pot, nodding in approval at what he saw inside.
"Inquisitor," Loghain began as he returned his attention to her, "the Grey Wardens are concerned about the thinness of the Veil in parts of the fortress. There is a risk of stronger demons finding a way through. We are also close to the Abyssal Rift, a place where darkspawn are known to inhabit. I know our men need rest, but it would be best to have teams patrolling the perimeter as well as searching for tears in the Veil so long as we are here."
Carmen's eyes narrowed. "The Grey Wardens are staying? After everything that happened here, I thought you'd be immediately off to Weisshaupt. Don't you think staying is unwise?"
He regarded her with a cool expression. "Like you, we have injured to care for, and forcing them to march through the desert to Weisshaupt, Montsimmard, or an oasis would do more harm than good. They are in my charge for the time being and I have decided that staying here for a day or two is best, which is why we need patrols."
"Well, we leave for Skyhold tomorrow," the Inquisitor said. "We need our rest as well. I can't spare every able bodied man to patrol the perimeter outside, not when we must guard Erimond against any rescue attempt from the Venatori. I want as many men around him as possible."
"I would not ask you, your men, or the Grey Wardens to do something I would not do myself. Therefore, I will take the first patrol and scout for any Venatori outside the fortress."
He saw her glance at the ribs Loghain had been holding when they had reemerged from the Fade. No doubt she was wondering about his physical state and if was up to doing what he said he would do. Well, he wasn't about to let her have the satisfaction of knowing that he still ached terribly and had wondered more than once if he was too old for this. He held himself tall, even though it made the throbbing in his head and ribs worse. He would show no weakness to her.
The silence stretched out for several long moments as Inquisitor Trevelyan continued to study Loghain. He held her gaze, his expression steely. Once she was satisfied with her scrutiny, she placed her hands on her hips. "You could still be susceptible to their machinations. That's a risk we can't afford to take. Perhaps the Grey Wardens need to remain within the fortress."
She was testing him, Loghain had no doubt. As much as it vexed him, being amenable to her scrutiny would help lay the groundwork to rebuilding trust between them. That didn't mean he wouldn't hold his ground.
"I was able to resist their false Calling once," he said; she didn't need to know just how maddeningly difficult it had been to do so. "Now that I know what it is, I can do it again. There were other Wardens who did not blindly follow Erimond's will as well. As for demons, they do not issue a Call. They will, however, be interested in mages and the dead, and there are plenty of both here.
"And, if there are darkspawn in the area of the Rift, they could mount an attack with little warning. With the Grey Wardens out on patrol, we will know if the darkspawn are approaching and can raise the alarm."
The Inquisitor's hand went to her sword, fingers and palm moving over the round pommel. She nibbled on the inside of her cheek, a gesture of nervousness that Loghain did not miss. Word was that she was still quite new at this "Inquisitor" business; Loghain, a former teyrn who had spent years observing the nobility of Ferelden, didn't miss the little signs of apprehension that she exhibited. He wasn't known for his powers of persuasion—Maric was the one who had had a way with words—but it wouldn't hurt to try.
"Inquisitor," he began, "would it ease your mind if the mages—Inquisition and Warden—perform a sweep of the area to determine where the weakest parts of the Veil are and if the Venatori are close by?" He gestured toward where Cullen was mingling with his men. "You have a templar with you; can he not observe?"
"Cullen isn't part of the Order any longer, but I suppose you have a point." Carmen sighed deeply, then nodded. "All right. We'll have some of the mages sweep the area with Cullen. The areas where the Veil is thinnest will be off limits until I can use the Anchor to seal them. A Grey Warden and an Inquisition soldier will patrol the desert outside the fortress for any Venatori or darkspawn. We will consolidate our forces into one camp here in order to keep an eye on each other. We are allies, after all."
Or, more likely, the Inquisition can keep an eye on us, Loghain thought. What the Inquisitor had left unsaid bristled at him, but there was no use in confronting her about it. The Grey Wardens had warranted the Inquisitor's skepticism, allies or not. "Agreed," Loghain said with a nod.
The sound of footfalls nearby drew Loghain's attention. He turned his head and saw the Nevarran Seeker—Cassandra Something Something Pentaghast—approach them. She still looked shaken from their experience in the Fade; ashen skin, agitated, and limping. Truth be told, the Fade wasn't an experience he would remember fondly either. How mages could stand experiencing it on a regular basis was something he would never understand.
"Warden Loghain, a moment of your time."
He sighed. "Yes, Seeker?"
Cassandra's eyes moved to the Inquisitor, then back to him. "You are close to the Hero of Ferelden. Do you know where she is now? The Inquisition could use her."
His eyes narrowed. "Use her? Really?" he asked, his voice measured as he answered. When it came to the Hero of Ferelden, his first instinct would always be to protect her. The Seeker, to her credit, held her ground against his icy expression, but her eyes did widen slightly as if taken aback. The Inquisitor looked slightly uncomfortable as Loghain crossed his arms over his chest. "Please," he continued, the word slow and acerbic, "do tell me; what do you mean by 'use her?'"
"Warden, I meant no disrespect. Perhaps I should say it another way," Cassandra said, her voice somewhere between stern and irritable. "What I meant to say is that her influence and leadership would help Inquisitor Trevelyan and the Inquisition immensely. We are still trying to build the Inquisition's influence, especially in Orlais, and having the Hero of Ferelden at our side would immediately do that."
Always Orlais, Loghain thought. It would be a thorn in his side for as long as he lived. As for the Hero… "When last I saw her, she was not in Ferelden at all; she was seeing to Grey Warden affairs near Kirkwall. It has been some time since then. I do not know where her duties have taken her since."
"And you have no way of contacting her to ask for her assistance?"
"No."
An exasperated sigh came from Cassandra as she shook her head and planted her fists on her hips. Carmen reached out and touched her companion's arm. "It's all right, Cassandra," she said, trying to soothe the prickly Seeker. "We'll do the best we can. Once we speak to the Hero, I'm sure we can convince her to help us."
"I should hope so," Cassandra spat. "One would think that since we have just allied with the Grey Wardens, she would honor that pledge."
Loghain bristled. "That would be her decision, not mine. And certainly not yours."
A stony silence fell between them. After glaring at Loghain for a moment, Cassandra scoffed angrily and stomped off toward the Inquisition camp.
"I apologize, Warden," Carmen said as they briefly watched Cassandra's back, "the Seeker prefers action to words. She sees something that needs to be done, and she'll pursue it at all costs, even if it puts off the people around her."
"There is nothing I would not do for something I believed in," Loghain said. "I can respect that. However, I will say again: I do not know where the Hero is."
"Fair enough. If you do see her, give her the Inquisition's regards and condolences for Aiden Hawke's death. And tell her I look forward to meeting her." The Inquisitor motioned toward a soldier nearby, who came to her side with a slight bow. His eyes moved from Carmen, to Loghain, and back again. "Inquisitor?"
"Go with Warden Loghain while he scouts the perimeter of the fortress grounds. If any signs of Venatori or darkspawn are spotted, return at once."
They walked in widening arcs beyond the gates of the fortress, hands on weapons in case a quick draw was needed. Scarves covered their faces against the blowing sands and relentless sun. As they had patrolled, Loghain's thoughts turned toward Weisshaupt and what he would do after he made his report. The First Warden would likely give him new orders, perhaps make him Warden Commander of the Orlesian forces... as if the First Warden had any idea of what was happening beyond the borders of Anderfels. If he tried to make him Warden Commander, Loghain would decline. Perhaps 'refuse' would be the more accurate term. The man is little more than a lickspittle with a fancy title, he thought. It was well past time for him to return to Ferelden permanently; his visit to Crestwood had stirred in him a great longing for home.
Perhaps the time away had also softened the animosity between himself and King Alistair. They had little more than tolerated each other for a number of years. Of course, the children his beloved Anora had borne for the King made him appreciate the fact that a father needed to be close to his daughter, even if she was far past her years as a child. He wanted to know his grandchildren, to tell them of the family history they would not learn from their tutors.
There was also the child he had conceived with Morrigan through her ritual at the end of the Blight. He often wondered how the boy was doing. Morrigan had, somewhat reluctantly, sent him bits of information about their son over the years. Kieran. Did he know the reason behind his making? Did he truly carry Urthemial's soul? Perhaps the answers to those questions were in Ferelden as well.
Upon his return, Loghain would return to either Virgil's Keep or Soldier's Peak; there were always recruits to train in swordcraft, archery, or tactics, and patrols to conduct in the Deep Roads or the Fereldan wilderness. He longed to live out his final days before the real Calling in his homeland, in the presence of his Warden Commander. Always. She deserved a rest, too, not to be traipsing around the continent. She wasthe Hero of Ferelden, after all.
After a few moments, Loghain set his thoughts aside and focused on the sands around them. There were a few signs of the Venatori's escape: a broken staff. The hilt from a dagger emblazoned with a dragon made from inlaid pearl. Scraps of bloodied robes. One Tevinter mage, dead and already drawing flies where the sands did not cover it.
And there was something else.
The sun bleached bones of a long dead creature that Loghain immediately recognized rested among the ripples of sand. The small bones of carrion birds surrounded it, open mouthed and twisted as if they had died screaming.
The Inquisition soldier drew his sword and reached toward the bones with the tip. "What in the—"
"Stop," Loghain said, his voice sharp and commanding. "Don't touch it." To the soldier's credit, he stopped immediately, his brows furrowed under the sand scarf.
"Ser?"
Loghain pulled the scarf down to expose his face; while it did well protecting him, it also felt like being wrapped in a shroud. It was disconcerting. "That's a genlock. A darkspawn. Leave it be."
"A darkspawn?" The soldier hastily drew his sword away. "I've seen them only once, from a distance. I still have nightmares about them."
It was Loghain's turn to frown. "You've seen them and lived to tell about it? Where?"
"Ostagar, ser. I served with your troops."
The memories, never completely buried, came back to Loghain again. The horror that he had kept tightly held within as he had first witnessed the darkspawn horde. The exasperation at Cailan's desire to be a heroic legend. The sorrow at the losses combined with the fear of invasion. The turmoil that followed. He sighed, pushing the memories away. It was an age ago, it seemed. Much had happened since then and it did no good to relive the past.
"You served with my men at Ostagar? You're from Gwaren?"
"Aye. Cenric Salter, ser. My family worked on nets and sails for the fishing boats. It was good work, but I wanted... more. So, I joined the city patrol. When the call went out for volunteers to battle the darkspawn, I jumped at the chance. See the Korcari Wilds? I was all for it."
"How did I not know you?"
"You were in Denerim when I joined the army. After Ostagar, I was with the group that Ser Cauthrien ordered back to Gwaren to protect the city." Cenric paused and shrugged. "You never returned to Gwaren."
"Circumstances prevented my return." Loghain replaced the scarf on his face and moved on as they continued the sweep. They paused as they approached a small complex beyond the borders of the fortress. There were many such structures in the area, likely remnants of settlements or guard towers long abandoned as the importance of Adamant waned and the darkspawn emerged from the nearby abyss. This appeared to be a watchtower of some sort with a squat building attached to it, large enough to hold a small contingent of workers or soldiers. There were similar looking towers leading toward the horizon, likely marking an old road between Adamant and the greener lands to the west. They were old and dilapidated; perfect hiding spots for ambushers. He saw no tracks in the sand, but that meant little when the landscape was constantly evolving like a living thing.
Loghain took several steps toward the building at the base of the tower, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. No challenges were called, no projectiles hurled their way. He wasn't going to complain about that, but he was uneasy nonetheless. If the Venatori hadn't settled here, it could be seen as a good sign; perhaps they were interested in getting as far away as possible before attempting to regroup. He took a few steps toward the front wall of the building.
And stopped.
Something stirred in his blood as his eyes swept the area, like the brush of a stray hair on his skin. Not the Calling, but something else. He held up a hand, motioning to Cenric that he should stop.
"Ser? Is it the Venatori?"
"Be quiet!," Loghain hissed under his breath. The faster he could concentrate on, and with, his senses, the quicker he could plot a course of action. He looked toward the entrance of the building, trying to make sense of what it was that made his blood crawl. Whatever stirred his blood seemed vague; whether it was something long gone or simply his overtaxed senses dull to the sensation, he didn't know. It didn't feel malevolent, but it was worth investigating just the same. After a moment, he turned and looked past Cenric to where the genlock bones rested in the sand behind them.
Loghain's gaze returned to Cenric. "Not the Venatori."
"Darkspawn?"
He gave a curt nod. "Return to Adamant," Loghain said. "Tell the Inquisitor that the only signs of the Venatori are those of them fleeing. However, there is the residual feel of darkspawn here. They spread their taint in areas they have occupied; it is possible that something remains of their passage. I sense no immediate danger, but must investigate and determine if this is a remnant of the past or the sign of a new problem from the Abyssal Rift."
"Ser, are you certain? Shall I return with assistance?"
"Not yet," Loghain said. The last thing he needed was for some fool soldier to stumble into something that was potentially blighted. He looked at the sky and used a hand to estimate how long they had until the sun touched the horizon. "There are about four hours until night falls," he told Cenric. "If I am not back by the time the sun is one hand width above the horizon, have the Inquisitor round up a squad of Grey Wardens and begin a search for darkspawn around the fortress."
"And if it really is darkspawn?"
"The other Grey Wardens will know if the darkspawn are massing. Adamant will not taken by surprise."
"Any other orders, ser?"
"No. Go."
Cenric nodded, then reached toward his belt and removed a dagger, which he then handed to Loghain. The hilt felt unnaturally warm and the blade seemed to shimmer with shades of orange and yellow. "Take this, ser. I doubt the darkspawn will be able to fight as well if they were to somehow ignite."
"Indeed," Loghain agreed as he slipped the blade into a scabbard on his belt, one within easy reach in case he needed it. He drew his sword and readied his shield. "I'll give it back to you upon my return."
"I look forward to it. Maker watch over you," Cenric said as he saluted, then turned toward Adamant Fortress. Loghain watched him retreat for a moment, then turned toward the building ahead of him.
He wasn't entirely sure what he would find.
A/N: A big shout out and thanks to my beta extraordinaire, Suilven! She's been encouraging me to write during a very, very, VERY long dry spell where the muse just gave me the finger and said "peace out." Anyway, I'm finding the fun in writing again, so I'm hoping to circle back to "Retribution" in the very near future.
Thank you to everyone for reading!