A/N: Alright, here's chapter 8! I'm still working on chapter 9 but I hope to have it finished in a few weeks. Don't forget to review/follow/favorite! Enjoy!
Chapter 8
Aftermath
Where did they go?
Ares had been wandering around the old stones for hours, looking for his human. He had tried to chase after them, when the scale-beast took them, but the dead-smell monsters blocked him from escaping for too long. The dead-smell monsters had moved on now, but there was no new scent-trail to his human he could follow. Where did they go?
The mabari sniffed the ground in distress, whine at the back of his throat. He'd never been separated from lady-master for this long. The only scent of hers he found was the old one that lead to the big, old fire. The fire was no longer hot, just black ash and burnt wood. Lady-master's scent was stale and Ares dejectedly plopped down in the dirt and ash next to the old fire.
A whine had Ares sitting up a moment later, ears raised and eyes alert. He stood when he heard the scratching of claws on wood and followed the sound. More hounds, most sick or dead, was what his nose told him. The whine came again and Ares made his way to the pen the other mabari was closed in. Ares sniffed the air. The other mabari was a female, recently cured of the disease the dead-smell monsters carried.
'Let me out!' the other mabari huffed. Ares whuffed back, eyeing the wooden gate for some sort of lock. He'd figured out how to open these sorts of things a long time ago, so he could get in out of the pen the old cook at stone-home would lock him in when he was bad. Finding the cold, metal contraption, Ares nudged it with his nose before taking the latch into his teeth and pulling.
Once free, the two war hounds got a good look at each other and gave the traditional greeting. She was slightly smaller than he was and had fur the color of smoke. She took a step away and whuffed at Ares in thanks, beginning to turn away. But for some reason, Ares couldn't let her go anywhere without him.
He took a few quick steps and nudged her shoulder, whining, 'where are you going?'
She looked at him oddly for a second before replying with a snort, 'away.'
He whined, turning to look around at the old stones. 'I can't find my lady-master.' He wasn't sure she had a master of any sort, but he felt leaving the area wasn't the best idea. What if his lady-master came back, looking for him?
She cocked her head to the side and whuffed, 'so you're going to stay?' Ares whined again, agitatedly scratching a large paw on the stone. 'Come with me, it would be better than staying. The only thing I smell here is death. And maybe we can find your lady-master,' she grumbled at him, nudging his shoulder with hers and nodding her large head toward the exit.
He huffed after another moment, turning his head back to look at her, 'ok, but only if we both look.'
'Deal,' she whuffed, before setting off again. Ares followed her, glad to have some company. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that leaving this place wasn't the best idea.
Nuala sat by the fire, gazing into the flickering orange flames. Braden sat opposite her on a log, unmoving as he stared out into the wilds. It had been three days since the Tower of Ishal and she'd only been conscious for one of them. Braden had woken up not long after she had, both only suffering minor head wounds and arrow punctures to extremities. Alistair and Guin were still recovering and hadn't woken from the ordeal.
She still couldn't believe what had happened. They'd lit the beacon, Loghain should have joined the fighting, should have turned the tide of the battle. According to Morrigan – the witch they'd met in their first sojourn into the wilds – after the beacon was lit, Loghain left. He left the Ferelden forces – his King – and all the other Grey Wardens to die fighting the darkspawn horde. Nuala felt sick at the news, and she had no idea how Alistair or Guin would react when they awoke.
Furthermore, there had been no sign of Guin's mabari since they'd woken up. The last time Nuala had seen him, the war hound had been tearing through the darkspawn at the top of the Tower of Ishal. He wasn't in the wilds when Nuala came to and she knew Guin would be heartbroken at the loss.
"What are we going to do?" Braden asked quietly from across the fire, eyes still staring off into the swamp.
Nuala frowned. "We wait for Alistair and Guin to wake up," she replied simply.
"I meant…. I meant after that. There are no other wardens and there is a blight…" Braden trailed off, voice sounding tight.
"Alistair is the senior warden among us. We wait for him to wake up before coming up with a plan," was Nuala's answer.
"What if –"
Nuala's eyes snapped to the mage, who had turned to look at her a little desperately. She cut him off, growling, "don't you dare finish that sentence."
"It's been three days, Nuala. We should start coming up with a plan, just in case—"
"Oh, 'tis no need to be so dramatic," came a sultry voice by the hut they'd woken up in. Morrigan sauntered up to the campfire, stopping with her hip cocked and arms folded under her breasts. "Your last Grey Warden companion has awoken. I imagine he'll be out here and moping with you sad lot in matter of minutes."
Not a moment later, Alistair came stumbling out of the hut, light-weight paints and shirt on, the kind of clothes he'd wear under his armor. His pants were hastily tucked into his boots and his hair stuck up in all different directions. His right arm was held closely to his chest in a sling. The broken bone must have still been mending.
Braden and Nuala both stood when he emerged, relieved to see him up and about. But the ex-templar simply cast his eyes about, frowning. "Lady Guinevere hasn't woken up yet," he stated, coming to join them at the fire and plopping down tiredly in the dirt. His gaze found Braden and Nuala and he smiled at them. "I'm glad to see you two are alright, though."
"Same to you, Alistair," Nuala replied and resumed her seat, Braden following suit, looking much less depressed now that their last warden companion had joined them.
"How long have I…" Alistair started, but Morrigan cut him off.
"You have been lying in my hut unconscious for the past three days," she groused, eying her nails in disinterest.
Alistair paled. "Three days? What happened in the battle? Did we succeed in lighting the beacon?"
Morrigan tsked and opened her mouth to respond, but Nuala beat her to the punch. She knew this needed to be handled gently and Morrigan didn't do gentle. "Alistair," she started, waiting for his attention to be on her before continuing. "We succeed in our mission to light the beacon. Loghain was supposed to join Ferelden's forces on the battle field but…"
The junior warden stared hard at her. "But what? What happened?" he demanded.
"After we lit the beacon, the darkspawn swarmed the tower. We were overwhelmed," Nuala continued.
"My mother rescued you all from the tower. You would have died if she had not made it to you in time," Morrigan stated, gold eyes firmly gazing out at the swamp.
"Right, uhm…" Nuala started back. She still wasn't sure how all four of them were saved from the tower simultaneously. Braden hadn't made much sense when he told her of the rescue. He claimed they all flew out, on a dragon. Said dragon had ripped the roof away from the tower to pick all of them up and carried them away. It was a fantastical and highly unrealistic story. First, if that had happened, then they would be dragon food and not alive here today. Second, dragons were highly uncommon to be sighted and tended to stay away from people. However, Nuala still had no clue what happened and neither Morrigan or her mother had added details to the story. Her gaze found Alistair again and she continued softly, gently, "Loghain did not join the wardens and Ferelden's forces on the battlefield when we lit the beacon. They died, Alistair."
Alistair did not move for several seconds, honey-brown eyes fixed somewhere passed Nuala. Shock drained what little color there was in his cheeks. After another few moments, his gaze found her again. "They're… gone?" he asked, voice hoarse, constricted.
Nuala nodded slowly, replying, "yes, Alistair. I'm sorry." At her words, Alistair's chin trembled and tears gathered in his eyes. He lifted his left hand to rub at his face, trying to keep the tears at bay before he decided to stand and walk away, unable to keep the sorrow back any longer. He made it over the rise and disappeared before he let himself start crying, but Nuala could still hear him.
"Pathetic," Morrigan muttered, rolling her amber eyes.
Nuala glared at her before growling, "that is enough, Morrigan."
The witch scoffed, turning to the dwarf with a sneer on her face. "He is acting a child. There are more important things to be done than feeling sorry for oneself."
"That isn't fair," Braden added, looking uncertain. "Those men were like a family to him and he just lost all of them at once. Give him some time."
"Time is not a luxury any of us have any longer. T'is time to strike this Loghain where it will hurt, if this matters so much to you all," the witch snapped.
"As Wardens, our first concern – and really only concern – is the Blight," Nuala stated. She sighed before adding, "we are the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden and the only ones capable of ending this. Loghain's reckoning will come later, unless he poses a threat to our duty."
"Loghain has already posed a threat. He sentenced all the other wardens to die when he abandoned them and left Ferelden defenseless. He has crimes to answer for," Braden argued.
"Enough!" Nuala growled, rubbing her temples. It wasn't that she didn't completely understand where Braden was coming from, but fighting wouldn't get them anywhere. "We won't decide next steps now. Right now, we are waiting for the last member of our group to regain consciousness, so we do have time." She stared pointedly at Braden then Morrigan as she said this. Braden frowned, but nodded, turning back to stare at the swamp. Morrigan only huffed and stormed off, raven feathers on her shoulder flapping, before disappearing into the hut. Nuala returned to staring at the fire, wrapping herself up in her thoughts once again. But the discord recent events caused in their group made her worry. How could they defeat the Blight if they didn't work together?
It took Alistair several minutes to calm himself down. He would get to a point where the tears would stop flowing and his breaths didn't shudder when he would think about Duncan and fall apart all over again. He knew he'd only known the man a little over six months, but the senior grey warden had become more of a father to Alistair than any person in his life. Duncan had saved him from the Chantry, from a miserable life, and made him feel like family.
And Cailan… Alistair had never known the man, but he was still his brother, not to mention the King of Ferelden. Why would Loghain do that to the son of his friend, and his king? Why would he pull away and allow the King and all the Wardens to die? The wardens have no political aspirations, even stay out of politics in general. They were no threat to the Ferelden throne and were only concerned with stopping the Blight. And Cailan was Loghain's son-in-law. What reason did the man have to leave them to die? Alistair didn't understand.
He took a shuddering breath, rubbing the palm of his left hand across his cheek to swipe at a wet trail left behind by tears. The skin under his eyes was raw with the rubbing, eyes puffy and red. His nose was so stopped up from the crying he had to breathe through his mouth.
What were they going to do? There were no Wardens left except Nuala, Braden, and him. And he was the most senior warden among them. Oh Maker, they wouldn't expect him to make the decisions, right? Leading wasn't something he was good at, and with something as big as a Blight to fight? If he led, the Blight would conquer Ferelden. He couldn't let that happen.
Nuala had a good head on her shoulders and led them well in the Korcari Wilds what felt like ages ago. She was born to lead, it seemed, as she took control of their little group seamlessly and effortlessly. It would be easy to defer to her to make the hard decisions.
Resolved, he stood to rejoin the others, making sure no tears were left to stain his cheeks and that his breathing was marginally under control. He didn't want everyone to see how much he had been crying. How embarrassing that would be!
Making his way over the small rise leading to the hut, there was a commotion at the door to the dilapidated construct that caused Alistair's head to snap up. Guin had emerged from the dim confines in her armor, eyes casting about for something. That's when he noticed – where was Ares?
Jogging down the rest of the path, Alistair approached Guin, ready to assist her as he was needed. If her mabari wasn't here somewhere, the likelihood was that he had been left behind in Ostagar.
"Where's Ares?" Guin asked, voice hoarse from lack of use.
"I'm sorry, My Lady, but we haven't seen him," Braden stated softly, consolingly. Guin's eyes teared up and her lower lip trembled.
Before she could reduce herself to a mass of tears, Alistair moved to her, hand coming to rest on her shoulder comfortingly and stating, "Ares is a smart hound. He could find us."
Guin huffed, visibly fighting the tears before saying, "the woman in the hut – Morrigan – told me what happened at Ostagar. If he's not here… then he's probably not…" Her jaw snapped shut and tightened on the words. She took a few breaths before asking, "what happened? Morrigan did not explain much."
Nuala sighed and said, "I wish she had let us explain it. She tends to be very blunt."
"Yes, I noticed," Guin replied, frowning. "How are we not dead as well though?"
"Well… Morrigan said her mother rescued us. If not for her, we would be dead," Alistair answered.
"Do not talk about me like I am not here," stated a voice suddenly and from the shadows, the old woman Morrigan called 'mother' materialized. All of them jumped at the sudden voice and startled, turned toward her.
"S-sorry… we didn't know you were here. Or what we should call you…" the ex-templar stuttered, surprise causing his thoughts to jumble. It was true, though. They had never learned her name as she had not introduced herself the last time they met.
The old crone shrugged before replying, "names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."
Alistair could feel his eyes bug out of his head. "The Flemeth? From the legends?" He asked, barely containing his surprise.
"Huh, Daveth was right. You are the Witch of the Wilds," Braden stated, sounding as surprised as Alistair felt.
Flemeth frowned at them. "And what does that mean? I know a bit a magic and it has served you four well, has it not?"
"Yes, thank you for your assistance," Guin stated, voice wary but polite. "We greatly appreciate it."
"But why did you save us? Why not any of the others from the battle?" Nuala asked. Alistair darted a worried glance at the dwarf woman. He knew the she had an analytical mind, but that sounded dangerously close to ungrateful.
Thankfully, Flemeth offered a small smile, chuckling slightly before stating, "well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we? Someone has to deal with these darkspawn. Besides, it has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did they change that when I wasn't looking?"
"Of course not! The Blight is our first concern," Nuala replied, seemingly affronted. Did she not realize who she was talking to?
"But we were fighting the darkspawn. The king nearly defeated them. Why would Loghain do this?" Braden growled.
"Now that is a good question. Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature," Flemeth responded.
Guin's head snapped up, turning to look at Alistair. "Wouldn't Duncan have requested reinforcements from Grey Wardens in other countries?"
"Y-yes. Duncan had sent word to Orlais seeking aid but he was afraid they wouldn't arrive in time," Alistair responded, not sure where this line of questioning was going, but her eyes had lit up when he finished speaking.
"That's it! Loghain is a war hero. His abandonment wouldn't make sense unless he felt Ferelden was threatened by the wardens and by the king. He was afraid of Orlesians coming back into the country and occupying it," she rushed.
Alistair's eyebrows furrowed. "You're not defending what he did, are you?"
"Of course not! He's committed regicide and effectively sentenced Ferelden to be consumed by the Blight. He has to pay for what he's done, or Ferelden will fall," she blurted quickly, raising a placating hand to him. "But, I can understand his motives, at least somewhat. He's severely prejudiced, and that prejudice will doom us, but at least allow us to anticipate his possible next move."
"And what's his next move?" Braden asked.
Guin looked over at him, but it wasn't her that answered. Nuala, having picked up Guin's trail of thought somehow, sighed and declared, "he's probably closed the boarders to Orlais to prevent reinforcements from coming in and he's going to accuse any surviving wardens of being traitors and sentence us to death." Alistair stared at them, dumbfounded. How could they possibly know that? Not that it didn't make a certain kind of sense, but to make that kind of analysis simply by understanding that Loghain didn't like Orlesians? Most Fereldans didn't like Orlesians, but they wouldn't sentence their king to die gruesomely.
"Perhaps this Loghain thinks the Blight is an army he can out-maneuver. Perhaps he does not see the evil behind it is the true threat," Flemeth added, tone dark.
"The archdemon," Alistair agreed.
"Then we need to find this archdemon and destroy it," Nuala claimed. "That is our duty as Grey Wardens."
"By ourselves?" Alistair interjected, a groan forcing his voice a little lower. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back." It was a frightening truth. They didn't stand a chance against the Blight with the meager numbers they possessed. All three of them would be slaughtered… easily, if they went up against the archdemon as they were now. Defeated, his shoulders slumped as he stated, "not to mention… I don't know how."
"How to kill an archdemon or how to build an army? It seems to me those are two different questions, hmm? Don't Grey Wardens have allies they can call upon?" Flemeth questioned, eying him intently.
"I… I don't know," Alistair replied. "Like I said, Duncan had sent word to Orlais but if what Guin and Nuala believe is true… then they won't be able to come." He paused running a hand through his messy hair as he thought of the small list of people he knew who would aid them and only one name sprang to mind. "There is Arl Eamon. He would surely not stand for any of this."
"Arl Eamon… he was Cailan's uncle! If he knew what really happened, he would go to war against Loghain," Guin exclaimed, a small smile curving the corners of her lips.
"And his forces weren't at Ostagar, so they were spared from the slaughter," Nuala added.
Alistair nodded, hope spreading into his bones. "Yes. I know him. He's a good man and respected at the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe! Appeal to him for help!"
"We also have the Grey Warden treaties. The Circle, Orzammar, and the Dalish must assist the wardens when they call for aid during the Blight," Nuala proclaimed. Alistair smiled. He had almost forgotten about the treaties.
Flemeth folded her arms across her chest as she smirked. She looked somehow smug, or pleased, that they had remembered the treaties they had come into the wilds to retrieve only days ago. "I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me," she approved.
"So, can we do this? Go to Redcliff and use these treaties and build an army?" Braden beamed, smile wide and relief evident on his features. He looked to his companions for approval of the plan and Alistair could only smile wider at him. This was the best they could hope for in the circumstances and made him feel like all was not lost.
Nuala smirked, glancing at them all in turn as she mused, "why not? Isn't that what wardens do?"
"So you are set then. You are ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth asked, eying them all intently.
"Yes," was Nuala's simple reply.
Guin chimed in, "I know I'm not a warden, but I feel like I need to continue with you three. The Blight is a huge threat and I cannot in good conscious leave you to deal with this on your own. If you'll have me, I want to help."
Nuala smiled, but Alistair enthusiastically beat her to the punch. "Of course you can come!"
"He's right, Guin. We could definitely use you," Nuala added, with a little eye roll at Alistair, who did not care in the slightest what she meant by the small gesture. She turned to Flemeth again and sincerely stated, "thank you, Flemeth, for everything you've done for us."
The old crone shook her head, waving her hands slightly as if to ward off the thanks. "No, no. Thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I," she replied. She paused, turned slightly to look toward the doorway to her dilapidated hut. "Now, before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you."
At that moment, Morrigan emerged from the doorway and strode to stand before her mother. "The stew is bubbling mother. Shall we have four guests for the eve or none?" she asked, gaze falling on the group of four as she finished her question.
"The Grey Wardens will be leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them," Flemeth replied. Alistair's eyes bulged. Wait, what?
Morrigan smirked and began, "such a shame –" then shock registered on her features as her golden eyes flew to observe her mother "what?" It seemed she was just as shocked by the notion as Alistair was. He didn't know if he should be relieved or smug. Maybe a little of both? Braden, on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement, looking to Flemeth and Morrigan as if his nameday came early.
"You heard me girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" the old crone remarked with a laugh.
"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us…" Guin started, but Braden cut her off.
"I think it's an excellent idea!"
Morrigan scowled at them all. "Have I no say in this?" she groused, indignant at the circumstance. Braden looked appropriately cowed, enthusiasm waning.
Flemeth grew serious as she gazed at her daughter. "You have been itching to get out of the wilds for years. Here is your chance," she stated with finality before turning back to the group of four. "As you for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
"Very well, we'll take her with us," Nuala answered.
Alistair could not believe what he was hearing. "Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Out of the wilds, she's an apostate," he stated to the group. He could imagine being chased across Ferelden by angry templars and shuddered internally. He did not want to end up in Aeonar for aiding and abetting an apostate. Hopefully, they would see sense.
Flemeth scowled at him. "If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, young man, perhaps I should have left you in that tower."
Alistair gulped and backed down. Aeonar would probably be better than having the legendary Flemeth pissed at him. "Point taken," he conceded.
"Mother… this is not how I wanted this. I'm not even ready –" Morrigan whined.
"You must be ready. Alone, these four must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight. Even I," Flemeth stated gravely. Alistair didn't really believe Morrigan was a deciding factor in the outcome of their mission.
Morrigan sighed, hanging her head and yielding, "I understand."
Flemeth turned back to address them, gazing at them intently. "And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give to you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."
Guin and Nuala exchanged quick looks before the former replied, "yes, we understand." Flemeth nodded, satisfied it seemed.
Morrigan sighed, again, before stating, "allow me to get my things, if you please." She did not take long. Ten minutes – at most – later and Morrigan was striding out of the hut again, a black pack slung over shoulder with her knotted staff. She rejoined them, frowning. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall be your silent guide. The choice is yours."
"No, I think we would prefer you to speak your mind," Braden answered, easily. Alistair didn't agree. Their trip would be better if she didn't speak at all.
Flemeth laughed, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You will regret saying that," she stated. Alistair already regretted it without having to be told. Morrigan was mean.
"Dear sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment," Morrigan hissed.
Flemeth shrugged, replying, "well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards."
Alistair still had misgivings. "I just… do we really want to take her along, just because her mother says to?"
Nuala sighed, "we need all the help we can get, Alistair."
"I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them," Alistair conceded, again. Obviously, everyone was set on bringing Morrigan along and he would not be able to dissuade them.
"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan sneered. Alistair scowled, but did not respond. Responding would only encourage the witch to continue talking.
"We should probably get ready to go," Guin stated. Alistair nodded. He wanted to get on the road, as well, and out of the wilds. But first, he had to get his armor on, somehow, with his mostly-mended broken arm. As he turned and made his way toward the hut, he heard Morrigan's and Flemeth's final exchange.
"Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut," Morrigan stated, hautily.
Flemeth scoffed, "'Tis far more likely you will return to see this area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."
With that, Alistair reached the door and shut it behind him, effectively cutting off whatever else the two might have said. Flemeth was right. In all likelihood, this area – along with a large portion, if not all, of Ferelden – would be destroyed by the Blight. He and his companions had quite a lot of work ahead of them.