Arcane Warrior

Chapter 11

After the Storm


Eyes shooting wide open, lungs gasping for air and hands reaching for weapons, Alim awoke violently on a soft bed. Violet eyes raced to and fro in bewilderment and fear, but saw to his astonishment, not the stone walls of Ishal's uppermost chamber. Instead, he was on a bed in a cozy wooden hut, the hearth blazing in the stone fireplace lending a pleasant warmth to his naked skin.

His armor wasn't anywhere to be found, but after everything that happened, he couldn't imagine it would be in useable condition anyway. Perhaps whoever brought him here simply discarded it as rubbish. His sword hilt was resting atop the bedside table to his immense relief. The only thing still adorning his body was the pendant he had been given by Duncan, the heavy silverite pendant engraved with runes and containing a crystal vial containing darkspawn blood.

He reached up and closed his hand around it, immediately feeling relieved by its presence.

His bow, Daveth's bow, was long gone, dropped at the bottom of the tower. He had tried to find an opportunity to use it on the darkspawn but the shortbow ended up being of no use in his inexperienced hands. He had lost it almost immediately upon entering the tower, and it most likely lie there still, likely broken and trampled to pieces under the feet of the monsters who stormed up the tower after them. His staff was gone as well, whoever saved him hadn't saw fit to bring it with them.

'Strange,' he thought, his eyes sweeping over the large bed his naked body lie upon, 'how did I get here?' It seemed like only moments the blackened crossbow bolts had slammed into his chest.

Gingerly, his hands grazed the flesh of his torso, searching for any signs of the bolts that had pierced his flesh. But to his astonishment there was no evidence of any wounds or scar tissue save that he knew would be there. Now that he thought about it, he really should have been feeling some sort of residual pain but felt nothing, not even a slight twinge when moving his joints.

But before he could ruminate any further on the matter of his well-being, the clearing of a nearby throat drew his attention to the side of the bed, where a pair of familiar golden eyes stared mischievously at him.

"Ah, you're eyes finally open." The woman said in her slow, seductive manner "mother shall be pleased."

His eyes widened once again as his mind raced in an attempt to pick up any other significant details he had failed to notice. Finally realizing that he was naked before a very attractive woman, he hastily covered himself with the threadbare bedsheets.

"Morrigan?" he asked, and at her nod he continued "where are we? What happened?"

"You were injured, and mother rescued you" she said lazily, no longer interested in staring at him now that he covered himself. She gave a nonchalant shrug and spoke again "do you not remember?"

"I remember being shot..." Alim said slowly before he narrowed his eyes and continued "and yes I remember your mother." He didn't mention the part about her transforming into a bird, he didn't need her thinking he had lost his mind.

"Wait!" He yelled suddenly, jumping up from the bed as his mind finally caught up with him. "What happened to the army? To the king?" he asked, eyes wide with worry.

"The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field," Morrigan explained slowly, entirely unconcerned with relaying troubling news to a potentially unstable naked man. "The darkspawn won your battle" Alim gasped as the news hit him harder than any darkspawn bolt.

His weapon clattered to the floor as he fell back to the bed in shock and placed his head in his hands, eyes shut tight as he tried to block out the screams echoing within his mind.

"Those he abandoned were massacred" she continued, even though he was not truly listening to her at this point. "Your friend... he is not taking it well."

Alim's eyes darkened, devoid of all emotion.

They lost… Everyone was dead. King Cailan, Duncan, Jena and the other wardens, Marian and Carver, Captain Varel… They lost, and now the darkspawn were going to continue their march to the north.

They lost, and now Farelden would fall.

"Do you know if..." He breathed in deeply to calm himself, "if there are any survivors from the battle?"

"A few stragglers, perhaps." He breathed a sigh of relief, but unfortunately Morrigan continued "but I would not put much stock in their continued survival with the darkspawn in pursuit." He retreated further into himself at her words, but if Morrigan noticed or cared, she did not say anything.

It was truly a wretched thing, for a person to witness so much death without so much as batting an eyelash. It was especially so for a mage, one who had the potential to deal out such destruction with so much ease.

Desperate for a change in topic, he inquired about his fellow warden. "He is as you are, the darkspawn did nothing that Mother's magic could not heal."

She huffed petulantly and continued "though I suspect 'twould be unkind to say he is being childish."

'Very unkind' he thought but did not say, as he was certain that she would just have a sharp retort at the ready. He knew people like her before, callous, caustic individuals whose callous disregard for others bordered on the sociopathic. Such people always had to have the last word, even if it meant crossing the line from what could be considered mean-spirited.

"Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him. He is outside by the fire," she said, her tone becoming cheerier at the end of her speech, pointing her thumb over her shoulder "Mother asked to see you when you awoke."

Shaking his head and breathing in deeply he ignored his, perhaps premature, judgements of her and spoke up "my friend, you mean Alistair?"

"So that is the suspicious, dim-witted one's name?" she asked with a raised eyebrow "interesting." He had to suppress a shudder at the calculating look in her eyes. He often wore the same look himself, but on her it looked so much more... menacing.

"Thank you for helping me, Morrigan," Alim said as he picked up his sword hilt and stood from the bed.

"I… You are welcome," Morrigan answered with an awkward stutter, his words obviously sending her somewhat off kilter. "Though Mother did most of the work, I am no healer."

"Morrigan... would you mind giving me some privacy while I get dressed," Alim said, noticing a wood and metal chest at the end of the bed which must have, or at least hopefully, contained an outfit for him to wear on the way out.

Morrigan gave a delighted chuckle, seeing yet another opportunity to fluster her unwitting house guest, "there is no need to worry on my account Warden" she said seductively, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

Leaning against the wall in a way that emphasized her figure, she sent him a smoldering stare and continued "I do not mind." She grabbed her elbow with her left hand, and with her right she traced a long finger along her full bottom lip. Alim blushed at the gesture, but instead of shying away as she likely intended, he smirked at her.

It immediately clicked in his mind that this wasn't an actual attempt at seduction, as the look in Morrigan's eyes weren't of real sexual desire. This was a mind game, an attempt at manipulating him like the inexperienced boy she thought he was, and she was trying to play him like a lute. Well, he wouldn't let her. She obviously didn't realize just out of her depth she was, though he had to wonder if everyone underestimated academics like this.

"Well then," he began in a confidant tone, and she arched an eyebrow in clear curiosity, "you did, after all, heal me. I think it high time I repay you your generosity" he said, gazing at her through lowered eyelids, a seductive gleam to his eyes.

"Repay me?" she asked with a coy curiosity as her breath audibly caught in her throat. She smirked at him, more interested now that he flipped the script on her and immediately started of ways to regain control of the game. He smirked, he could almost see what she was thinking, but he more experienced in this kind of back and forth. He stepped in closer to her before she could coordinate herself and she backed away a step as she realized just what position she had placed herself in and she seemed to have forgotten the placement of her feet. Her startled eyes widened, and a bright blush bloomed on her face when her back hit the wall behind her.

Alim slowly reached his hands to press against the wall on either side of her head, revealing to Morrigan her powerlessness, even though they both knew that he had already won as he leaned in, whispering into the ear of the trembling witch. Several seconds of this, of him whispering suggestions into her ear had her drooling as her vivid imagination ran wild with imaginings of blissful submission to the elven mage.

To her credit she hid her embarrassment well and simply ducked under his arm, smiling and looking at him over her shoulder. "No, I think not. Perhaps I could indulge you your beastly desires another time. But go quickly, mother and your friend await you."

A small blush adorned her face, the sole sign of her having lost this game and Alim beamed at having beaten her as she moved behind the divider to give him his requested privacy.

Smiling at the heated glare he could feel from the other side of the divider, he opened the chest and got dressed, ignoring the fact that she was likely swearing her eventual revenge against him.


His mood once again somber, even the tiny victory he claimed over Morrigan so quickly crushed as Alim opened the door of the hut and walked outside.

He shivered as he stepped out into the cold, foggy clearing, the wet grass crunching under his feet. It was morning, the still dim sunlight fighting to make it through the canopy of trees and constricting layer of fog. Suddenly it seemed as if he had just awoken from a nightmare rather than having spent a few days in a hut, being brought back from the brink of death by a couple of witches with unknown intentions.

He could not sense the darkspawn anywhere around them, the by now familiar pulsating feeling gone from his mind, he was uncertain if this pointed toward their absence, if being unconscious so long had done something to his sensory abilities, or if the pair of witches had done anything to him in his unconscious and vulnerable state.

Anything was possible, and none of the possibilities sat well with him.

He wondered at his sudden mood swings... his emotional state had never jumped around this much in such a short period of time. He figured that it was likely the aftermath of the battle affecting his mind. That, or it was some quirk of the Joining ritual.

He also had to wonder why he was still himself. Back at the tower, he would have never allowed himself to feel this many different emotions in such a short period of time, and certainly not as strongly as he was. Either two things were true at this point, one; his strict discipline over his own emotions was unnecessary, as the risk of possession was not as dire as he was told, highly unlikely as he himself had witnessed how strong demons were and how easily they could possess mages if they slipped up. Or two, something about this place was protecting him, preventing him from falling to the evil spirits of the Fade.

After a short time thinking on it, he decided that the latter was more likely, after all the ones who lived here were two very powerful mages. They must have taken measures to protect themselves so that they wouldn't have to watch themselves at all times.

Alistair was sitting sullenly at the side of the fire, dead eyes staring out of a sullen face. His warden armor was long gone, and like himself he wore simple cloths and leathers, enough to stave off the cold, but not much else. He suddenly felt himself wondering how safe they were here, if they were attacked then they had nothing to protect them. But then all of Morrigan and her mother's work would have been for nothing, so he had no choice but to trust them for now.

The elderly woman herself stood to the side, her back straight and unbowed by recent events. He almost didn't recognize her at first, she seemed younger and sprightlier than the last he had seen of her, and she wore a different robe, one more formfitting. In all regards, she looked every bit as proud and uncaring as her daughter.

"You see?" She spoke up suddenly, spooking Alistair so badly he jumped to his feet and drew his sword at the noise. "Here is your fellow Grey Warden," Morrigan's mother told Alistair, the man looking almost sheepish, were it even possible with how depressed he looked, putting his sword away. "You worry too much, young man."

"You… you're alive!" Alistair said to Alim, surprised that the witch had not simply killed them, and relieved that his friend stood before him, alive and unharmed. Alistair hugged the elf tightly, clinging to him like a lifeline. "I thought you were dead for sure…"

The embrace initially took him by surprise, but before long he had wrapped his arms around the human, offering comfort that the both of them desperately needed.

"I'm fine," he told the man. For Alistair, seeing Alim again had been proof that everything he had gone through was real, and the other man's presence was comforting in the face of all this darkness.

"This just doesn't seem real," Alistair sighed, letting go of his mage companion. "If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead with the rest of them."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad," she scolded him gently, her brows knit together in indignation. "Especially not after I have brought you both to the safety of my home."

"I didn't mean…" he stuttered, trying to compose himself. Alistair had always thought of himself as a chivalric sort of person, but the events of the past few days had shaken him to the core. From the minor skirmishes with the darkspawn and all the diseased soldiers that had wrought, to the battle with the full force of the horde and finally the betrayal of one of the men they trusted most. Straightening his back, if only to keep up appearances, as he was nowhere near feeling like his normal self yet, he asked "but what do we call you? You never told us your name."

"Names are pretty, but useless," the old woman said, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth, I suppose that will do." Alim started at this bit of information, everyone had heard the stories of Flemeth. He could not imagine half of them were true, but even with that being the case then the woman was truly someone to be feared.

The name Flemeth appeared many times through-out the ages and featured in many of the history books he had read. A vengeful widow who overthrew Lord Conobar Estlan in the Towers age, a vengeful Chasind shaman who sacrificed her life to save the Chasind wilders hundreds of years later. The tales spoke not of another apostate or maleficar on the run from the Chantry, but of a true abomination. One who sold her soul to a demon of the fade for the immense power she even now wielded.

He sighed, even when he was sick to the point of dizziness, it seemed that his first impressions of people were on the mark.

"The Flemeth? From the legends?" Alistair asked, surprised. "Daveth was right" he said resignedly "you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"

"And what does that mean?" the old woman countered indignantly, as though calling herself by the name of a legendary abomination, rapist, child-stealer and mass murderer did not paint her in a bad light and gave her any right to be indignant at being called out as such. "I know a bit of magic," he had to suppress a snort at that, "and it has served you both well, has it not?"

"I suppose we should thank you," Alim said, putting a bit of magic into his voice, hoping to calm her ire, as well as any she may be causing Alistair who may have been more angered at her revealing herself to them than himself, what with him being a former Templar.

Flemeth looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, having felt the additional magical energy in the air and immediately knowing what he had tried to do, but let it go since his efforts had been nothing but benign.

"If you know what's good for you, I suppose you should!" Flemeth said with a laugh. Alim looked at Alistair, thinking about his next question.

"Why did you save us," Alim asked finally after a long moment of uncomfortable silence, "and just us." Alistair turned to Flemeth, as eager for an answer as the elf. She laughed at him and elaborated "well we couldn't have all the Grey Wardens in Ferelden dying at once, could we? As the last Grey Wardens of Ferelden, it is your duty to unite the lands against the Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"The land is more divided now than ever" Alim stated, looking toward the lake "and we have only Loghain to thank for that."

"I don't understand..." Alistair said scrunching up his face, "the king was his son-in-law, why would he betray him?"

"Now that is a good question," Flemeth spoke up, "men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature" she stated with sad eyes, hinting at something in her past that he didn't want to even try to figure out, as convoluted as the legends surrounding her were. "Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver, perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."

"The archdemon," Alistair agreed immediately, and thinking about the menacing creature he had seen in his dreams Alim quickly made a suggestion of his own. "We should contact the rest of the Grey Wardens," Alim suggested. "Duncan and Cailan already summoned them," Alistair reminded him, "They'll come if they can, but I expect Loghain has already taken steps to stop them since the closest ones are all Orlesian. We must assume they won't arrive in time if at all."

'Loghain really hates Orlais that much, that he would rather close off the border than accept aid against the Blight?' Alim asked incredulously, even though he had already suspected as much. The man had suffered greatly at the hands of Orlesian soldiers, but how much he didn't know. That part of Loghain's past was strangely absent from history books or biographies. But whatever extent he suffered at their hands, that didn't justify a hatred to this extent.

'It looks like it,' Alim thought solemnly, 'and unfortunately his position gives him the power to actually do it.' Alim had to shake his head at Loghain's foolish selfishness, that he would let his countrymen suffer for the sake of naught but his own grudge.

"If Arl Eamon knew the truth, he would never stand for it!" Alistair stated vehemently, yet also somehow subdued. Like he had yet to truly come out of the funk seeing their betrayal had left him in. 'Eamon Gwarren?" he wondered, 'the arl of Redcliffe?' "The landsmeet would never stand for it, there'd be civil war.

"Do you think this Arl Eamon would help us Alistair?" Alim asked, though his real question of whether or not the Arl would trust their word over that of a Teyrn went unsaid. Alistair spoke of the Arl in a familiar tone of voice, and as such asking such a thing would only upset the human. "Yes, he will... he has to." Alistair responded, a hint of steel in his glazed over eyes, surprising Alim who had to wonder at how someone could be so despondent yet at the same time so passionate.

Alistair took a moment to think before continuing "Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men. He was also Cailan's uncle. I know him! He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." The look in his eyes changed as he got an idea, and Alim could see what that idea was, and he approved. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!" Alim found himself feeling better at seeing the renewed enthusiasm on Alistair's face.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," he agreed. He had only ever read books, and everyone knew those were only as accurate as the author's viewpoints, but by all accounts, Arl Eamon was an honorable man who treated his subjects fairly. Add to that the fact that Alistair seemed to know the man personally. "We should go to see the Arl as soon as we are able."

"Such determination," Flemeth laughed. She knew well how to judge the worth of people and knew well that such a task was not out of their reach. "How intriguing."

"I still don't know if Arl Eamon's help will be enough," Alistair admitted, the smile falling from his face when the great flaw in the plan revealed itself. "He can't defeat the darkspawn horde by himself!"

"Surely there are other allies we could call on," Alim suggested, hinting at the treaties but not outright stating it. He wanted Alistair to come to that conclusion himself.

"The treaties, of course!" Alistair inwardly cursed himself for his forgetfulness, "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"

"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages," Alim had to suppress a snort, he knew all too well just how ridiculous this all sounded, "-this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else… that sounds like an army to me," Flemeth told them, as she placed her hands on her hips in a gesture that not only made it seem like she thought this plan was both brilliant and incredibly foolish, but also managed to emphasize just how attractive her figure was for her age.

"So, can we do this?" Alistair asked Alim, ignoring Flemeth's posturing almost completely, "go to Redcliffe and these other places and… build an army?"

"Why not?" Alim said blithely, belying his dark mood. "That's what Grey Wardens do, is it not?" His attempt at levity didn't get the desired results, as Alistair still looked unnaturally sullen.

"So, you are set then?" Flemeth asked, "ready to be Grey Wardens?"

"As ready as we'll ever be," Alim said with a sigh. He was not quite content with the plan, historically guerrilla warfare rarely worked out well. But it was better still than just waiting in the wilds, hiding from the inevitable until they were swallowed up by the Blight. But he knew he had to act, to do something, if not on his honor as a Warden, then on his honor as a patriot. If there was anything he could do for Ferelden or her people, then he was duty bound to go to the depths of the Void and back to see them safe.

"Thank you for everything you have done for us Flemeth." He said earnestly, bowing at the waist.

"No no, thank you," was her reply, Alim rose to look her in the eye, "you are the Grey Wardens here, not I" she said, thanking them for their future actions.

"Now… before you go, there is one more thing I can offer you," the old woman said, glancing sharply toward the door of her cabin, and as if on cue the door creaked open on its rusted hinges and out strode Morrigan, her strut haughty and her hips swaying in an almost exaggerated fashion, yet still restrained enough to be called subtle. She looked to be either trying to forget about their game, or already trying to avenge her loss.

Possibly both.

"The stew is bubbling Mother," Morrigan said slowly, subtly drawing out every last syllable. "Shall we have two guests for the eve," she quirked her head to the side, looking to him and Alistair, "or none?" She said, her eyebrows knitting together as she looked suddenly toward her mother.

This was another mind game, he realized. He shook his head and sighed, as good at these games as he was, he quickly tired of them. Heaven forbids, he ever goes into politics, he'd just end up killing everyone after a single day.

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly girl," Flemeth told her daughter, "And you will be joining them."

"Such a shame... what?" Morrigan snapped, surprised at the unexpected turn of events, as were they all.

"You heard me, girl. Last time I looked, you had ears!" Flemeth let out a barking laugh at her daughter's flustered expression and at her own twisted sense of humor. The joke was lost on Alistair, but Alim looked away with a grimace, as he had a very good idea about what just passed through Flemeth's mind.

"Thank you," he said hesitantly, "but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us, then I will not force her to do so." Morrigan glared heatedly at him, she had no wish to be subjected to chivalry or gallantry or any such tripe.

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth informed them, hammering in the point. "Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."

He suppressed a sigh, he could see that any argument he might have against it, she was going to force them to take Morrigan with them anyway. He didn't have it in him to be suspicions of her, for it was as clear as day that she had ulterior motives for this. It was what those motives were that what he would have to figure out.

Later though, much later. Preferably with plenty of alcohol.

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded, offended at being forced into a suicide mission.

"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years," Flemeth continued, conferring an entirely different message through her eye contact with her daughter, one secret from the wardens. "Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens," she turned to them "consider this repayment for your lives."

"Very well then, we'll take her with us," Alim conceded. He had guessed right, but absolutely refused to think more on the subject until he had a glass of wine in hand. If only to dull him from the headache that dwelling on it would cause.

Turning to Morrigan, he bowed to her, but not as low as his bow to Flemeth. He was clearly out of his depth with the older woman, but not so with her. He did not want to convey any sort of weakness to the young witch. "I would be honored to have you fight at my side, Morrigan, should you wish it."

"Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems?" Alistair asked. "Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate." Alim faced Alistair with a deadpanned expression but did not speak of the crushing irony.

"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages young man," she said in an incredibly sardonic tone of voice, "perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken," Alistair sighed. Normally he'd have a quip for that, but the grief was still too near.

"Mother, this is not how I wanted this," Morrigan said slowly, her words having many different meanings, some the wardens understood, and some that they did not. "I am not even ready-" she continued, again her words having many meanings, but Flemeth cut her short.

"You must be ready," Flemeth interrupted, addressing the concerns that the wardens understood verbally, but at the same time addressing the concerns that the wardens didn't understand through eye contact. "Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn." Alim arched an eyebrow, he doubted they would be alone for long, for surely, they would pick up allies along the way, wasn't that how these things worked in the stories? "They need you Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

'Give us a little credit, why don't you' Alim protested silently, but conceding Flemeth's point. She was right, and he knew it. After all, it was just him and Alistair trying to outmaneuver two different armies.

"I… understand," Morrigan finally conceded, finally breaking eye contact with her mother, signifying that she understood the hidden points as well.

"And you, Wardens, do you understand?" Flemeth asked them, advancing a few steps, "I give you that which I value above all in this world." she tapped her staff, a staff she had not been holding even a mere instant ago, on the ground, the clack reverberating despite the marshy ground, "I do this because you must succeed."

"I understand Flemeth" Alim said, bowing once more, "your daughter will come to no harm with us, this I swear." He promised with a hand over his heart. Flemeth smiled and nodded.

He could hear an indignant/mortified scoff coming from Morrigan at the notion of being protected like some useless damsel. He shook his head when he straightened, clearly, she had no real experience with chivalry and must have thought it to be mere pretty words, men pretending to be nice so that women would sleep with them.

"Allow me to get my things, if you please," Morrigan spoke with a sarcastic curtsy, sounding indignant still at being made party to a clearly suicidal elf and a human whose stupidity made him beneath her notice. She turned around and went back into the hut, though not without shooting them all one last venomous glance and re-emerged only a few minutes later with a small pack and a horned staff.

"I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens," she said as she came back outside, the sway gone from her hips. She was far too angry to keep up her games "I suggest the village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there." A glance at the former Templar prompted her next remark. "Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide." She stated in a biting tone.

"The choice is yours."

"No, I would prefer it if you would speak your mind," was Alim's response. She was clearly talkative, if a bit pessimistic and caustic, but she seemed a bright lass, bound to have a good idea or two along the way.

"Oho" laughed Flemeth, "you will come to regret saying that I assure you." Morrigan glared daggers at her mother for her glib remark "dear sweet mother," she started, acid dripping from her tongue, "how kind of you to cast me out like this, how fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, if you want something done right, do it yourself," Flemeth said, unbothered by her daughter's glare or tone, "or hear about it for a decade or two afterwords." She finished more quietly, and Alim had to snap himself out of detective mode before he tried to think about what she meant by that.

"I just…" Alistair spoke up, obviously irritated by the idea of taking the witch with them, but not wanting to turn her away, "do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?" Alistair asked, looking at Alim.

"We need all the help we can get Alistair," he reminded him, "the Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."

"I guess you're right," he admitted with a pout.

"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan said snidely. Alim sighed, he could already see the animosity building between the templar and the witch. It didn't help that she wasn't seeing Alistair at his best, he foresaw a need to make them kiss and make up. Well, more the latter than the former, actually that might be interesting to witness, if not for the fact that it would lead to Alistair's grisly murder.

"I think we should just get underway," he interjected quickly before the argument could go any further. He gave Morrigan and Alistair a pointed look, silenced them for the moment.

"Farewell Mother," Morrigan said, turning to an amused Flemeth. "Do not forget the stew on the fire, I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

"Bah." Flemeth scoffed, "'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight," Flemeth scolded.

"I…" Morrigan stuttered, sounding genuinely hurt. "All I meant was…"

"Yes, I know," Flemeth interrupted, her voice soft and kind. That alone caught Alim off-guard, though that was quickly becoming par for the course with the old woman at this point. "Do try to have fun, dear."


Ever since leaving the safety of Flemeth's enclosure, he had taken first watch at night. It was a strategic choice, as an elf he could see in the dark, as a mage he needed less sleep, and as a warden he could sense the enemy should they get too close. That said though, the current situation was that ever since Ostagar, a storm had settled over the region. It was as if the sky had opened up to mourn the deaths of so many. Though he didn't notice at first as Flemeth's hut seemed to have some form of protection from the elements.

Alim clutched his thin leather coat tighter about his body, cursing his inability to stay dry and warm. The canopy of trees kept the rain off of his body for the most part, and he was unable to keep a fire going except for the rod of fire that he somehow managed to hold onto despite everything that happened. Alistair had to be convinced that magical fire didn't have any special properties, regardless of how much energy was channeled into it. Magical fire was still just fire.

It had been a full two weeks since they left Flemeth's enclosure, and three since Ostagar. Apparently, the darkspawn bolts had injured them worse than they thought, several vital organs were struck. Over the centuries, Flemeth had learned healing spells that could return a man to full health from the brink of death, given enough time and attention was spent on them. Had they had been in any hands other than hers they would have died long ago.

A long, long two weeks of creeping through the forest, dodging bands of darkspawn and subsisting on whatever they could forage, which wasn't much. The forest was dying for the presence of the darkspawn, and as a consequence they were all becoming somewhat malnourished. The stress of evading darkspawn, being forced to deal with this foul weather and their hunger all built up, causing his vitriolic companions to lash out at each-other.

He had already played mediator to their arguing several times, but the exhaustion was wearing on him and even he was losing patience with them. He just preyed that they find the village and got a good meal, and to add to his burden he found that he had become the leader of this group by unspoken decision.

Alistair was distant and withdrawn, so consumed was he with the loss of Duncan and the others, and even then, he had previously expressed his fears of leadership. He met any challenge the darkspawn presented with a vengeance, but after the fight was over, he would always fall back into himself. Morrigan, on the other hand, had no desire to lead, nor did she have the ability to do so even if she did. She was only here at her mother's urging, not at her own desire to save the world from the Blight.

Alim did not want to play the leading man, such characters were never happy at the end of the story. But for the sake of the two following him, even if one of them wouldn't shed a tear if either of them died, he took up the mantle proudly. Though, that was not to say that he did not have his doubts. He was a lone elf, a powerful one to be sure, but one that had his fair share of scars, both mental and physical.

It was these three upon whom the entire world depended. It was a grim prospect, and as time went on, he found that he couldn't convince himself otherwise. Though he did not let it show on his face or in his posture, one thing he had learned from King Cailan was how to keep up a front of confidence in order to keep morale high... though he doubted it had any effect. Alistair was too depressed to pay attention and Morrigan just didn't care.

Alim sighed, their adventure was off to a miserable start. Thankfully Morrigan could scout ahead in animal form without being detected by enemies. Using this method of scouting, the witch had reported that the Imperial Highway was no more than a day's journey, and the village only a few hours beyond that, something which was welcome news to all of them. Once they were in the village they could get a proper meal, supplies and rations for their journey.

So distracted was he by these thoughts that he failed to detect Morrigan walking up behind him to take the next watch, and he jumped when she coughed to get his attention. Weary from a long day's travel, he gladly stood and went to lie under the nearest tree to sleep while Morrigan took her shift. He slipped the jacket from his body and beat it against the tree to free it of water before draping it over his shoulders to serve as a makeshift blanket.

He was asleep and in the fade within moments, leaving the seemingly never-ending vigil to Morrigan and later to Alistair.


The Imperial Highway wasn't hard to find once they cleared the treeline, though that wasn't the most pressing concern at the moment.

They were all weary and weakened from the long trek out of the wilds, and a darkspawn raiding party stood between them and the highway. He sighed wearily and drew his sword as the monsters charged but was genuinely surprised at what happened next. He was set to launch a spell at the hurlock before him when a growling blur ran out of the woods and tackled it to the ground.

That blur turned out to be a mabari warhound. The large dog's patchy fur was tangled with twigs and leaves from the brush, the leather collar around its neck worn and tattered with several of the studs missing and its kaddis almost completely wiped away. Despite this, he recognized the large dog currently mauling the hurlock as the one he helped at Ostagar.

The hiss of a shriek broke through his reverie, and he ducked out of the way of one of its long claws and cut it down with a bolt of mana. The dog got off the dead darkspawn and backed up to stand at his side, growling at the darkspawn raiders. "Well, isn't that sweet," Morrigan said sarcastically as she shot off an ice storm spell at the monsters, taking out several genlocks, spraying the area with black ichor and shards of ice.

He winced and ran forward to the next enemy in line, the dog and Alistair both joining the fray behind him. He brought his glowing blade down on the hurlock alpha's head in a savage chop, cleaving through its crude helmet and skull in one go. Alistair, having since lost his shield, had to dodge around the claws of a shriek before beheading it, he reversed the blade in his hand and thrust it backwards into the face of a genlock. The dog ran towards a shriek and sunk his teeth into its leg, toppling the monster over and dragging it behind him as he bowled over a few genlocks.

Morrigan did what she did best and took advantage of the situation, casting a firestorm spell and turning the genlocks on the ground into ashes. But not being a Grey Warden herself, she couldn't sense the alpha approaching her from behind, and her usual situational awareness was shot because of having gone for so long without a decent meal. She gasped when a pair of powerful arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, pinning her arms and forcing her to drop her staff. She flailed in the things grasp, pressing her hand to it and sending a shock through the thing's armor, but the alpha merely twitched at the electricity coursing through it and kept dragging her away.

Not many outside of the Grey Wardens knew what the darkspawn did to their female captives, but Morrigan knew only too well. Her mother told her many horror stories in her childhood, and that was the one that scarred her the most, sticking in her mind like a tumor. Knowing what the large creature intended to do with her, she struggled with everything left in her weary body, her mind going through all the spells she knew to find a way out of this, but there was nothing she could do. She could weaken the creature, but not enough to escape, all the offensive spells she knew had large areas of affect and would kill her as well as the darkspawn, and she was too weak to transform into an animal and scamper away.

An undignified squeak escaped her mouth when a black blur shot past her face and struck the hurlock in-between the eyes. She stilled and looked to the side, seeing a blackened bolt. She felt the alpha beginning to fall backwards, so she thrust herself forward out of its limp arms and landed in a tumble. She grabbed her staff hurriedly in both hands, feeling infinitely safer with the focus in hand, and stood to her feet. The darkspawn were all dead and Alistair had dropped his sword and picked up a crossbow dropped by the alpha that the mabari had killed.

Morrigan lowered her staff in shock that Alistair of all people was the one who saved her. She had expected to look up and see Alim with the crossbow, she'd even have expected to see that a darkspawn had saved her with a stray shot, but Alistair? The man was a fool, and a templar fool at that.

She scowled and stormed over to the templar, slapping the crossbow out of his hands. "Wha- hey!?" Alistair yelled after her. He'd just tried to help her, and this was her way of saying thanks?

He looked down and bit his lip, he was raised to be a gentleman, and it wouldn't do to curse her out over this. Morrigan spun on her heel and shouted, "I am not some damsel who needs to be saved!" She turned again, crossing her arms under her chest and fuming silently.

"Well, I'm sorry," he shouted back, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but that's what it looked like from where I was standing little girl!" Morrigan didn't reply verbally and glared heatedly, looking very much like she wanted nothing more than to burn him to cinders.

Alim shook his head, turning away from at the human's argument and knelt in front of the mabari. "Hello," he said and the dog barked happily, which he guessed was a good response. The great beast could have slobbered all over his face or attacked him. "Have you been following us?" he asked, and another happy bark was his response.

"Hey," Alistair spoke, turning away from Morrigan, "that looks like one of the mabari from Ostagar." The man stepped closer and knelt down to put his hands on the dogs face "yes I remember now, this is Hohaku. He belonged to one of the Ash Warriors who fell in the last skirmish," so that was the dog's name. He had read a story once about a mabari named Hohaku, he was apparently a mean and arrogant hound.

He truly didn't think a dog could possibly be anything close to arrogant. He could simply have been rabid, the minstrels embellishing the story over the years as they were wont to do. Such was the way of things.

The ash warrior likely must have been trying to redeem the name.

Morrigan made a sound of disgust, "so I take it this mangy mutt is to come with us then?" she asked incredulously, clearly she was not too taken with the idea of traveling with a dog. Alistair knelt down an put his arms around Hohaku's neck and looked up at Morrigan, Alim would have thought that the with would enjoy the sight of the templar on his knees, but all she did was scoff. "He's not mangy," Alistair argued, and started to scratch the mabari behind the ears "you're not mangy," he continued to the dog in baby talk "are you boy?"

The dog barked happily in response, and nuzzled Alistairs face. Alim smiled in amusement at the sight, he liked dogs well enough, but was really more of a cat person. Morrigan on the other hand, scoffed and turned away from the sight of the templar making a fool of himself, acting all lovey-dovey with the dirty mongrel. "Well at least the fool templar will have some company."

Alistair smiled, but then thought for a moment about her scathing statement, and what it inferred. "Hey!?" he exclaimed at her retreating back. Many people, friendly and not-so-friendly types alike liked to poke fun at him in such a way, but Morrigan's remark was not only a true insult, but one that she actually meant... and that actually hurt him.

"Enough, both of you!" Shouted Alim, turning to face the former templar and the witch. If this argument was allowed to continue, it would only escalate and the party of three, now four, would tear themselves apart.

It was slightly off-putting to think that a single petty argument could doom the fate of an entire country.

"But-" Alistair started before Alim turned to him with a withering glare and the man turned away, unable to look into his friends eyes. Morrigan rolled her eyes and stormed town the road toward the imperial highway.


The imperial highway, a deceptively simple name for the grand stone road that circled all of known Thedas, leading toward every major settlement and thus shortening the journeys of travelers anywhere between days to months to even years. The highway itself was a grand structure of smooth white stone rising up a full ten meters from the ground below. The road itself, only four meters from the ground, was a smooth flat thoroughfare with a three-foot-high railing on either side and stretching up six meters on the sides were pillars, supporting a series of beautifully crafted arches.

Like the fortress of Ostagar, the highway was a relic of the Tevinter Imperium. It was a thoroughfare intended not for the comfort of travelers, but to allow their armies quick passage across the far-reaching empire. It was the life's work of entire generations of slaves. Entire families had been worked from birth to death solely for construction of the highway, with their cruel masters using foul magics to stave off their slaves' early deaths, ensuring that each and every one of Alim's ancient kin was old and gray before being allowed the sweet embrace of death.

In the following centuries, the nations that had sprung up from the empire's vacated lands, Ferelden, Orlais and Navarra to name but a few, had taken over the use of the highway, maintaining it and even expanding upon it at their convenience.

Still though, it was a wonder how the highway managed to survive these many thousands of years since the Imperium's retreat from the south. As it was, the only signs damage one could see upon the road were a series of cracks and fractures, from which grew all manner of flowering vine. But rather than detracting, they only added to the beauty of the ancient thoroughfare.

Alim placed his hand upon one of the many cracks, tracing his hand down the fracture and toward a vine covered in small pink blossoms. This stretch of the road was very familiar to him, even fourteen years later. He doubted he would ever forget this place.

His family's old home was not far off now.

His companions ascended the ramp, himself following not too long after, and the four walked in uncomfortable silence. The hound, Hohaku, wined and nuzzled his face against his new master's leg and was rewarded with an affectionate smile and a scratch behind the ears.

The dog was not the only one who had picked up on their leader's sudden mood, but the others felt too awkward (Alistair) or felt it would ruin her image (Morrigan) to try to bring it up. Not only that, but after their harrowing trip through the wilds, none of them felt up to a long and depressing conversation, as the elf's slumped shoulders hinted at.

They followed the thoroughfare in the direction of Lothering, and it seemed at last their luck wore out as at the very edge of Lothering, they were greeted by what appeared to be a group of thugs who had blocked the road.

The way that they had set themselves up was to make themselves appear as proper soldiers. But judging from the hastily thrown together leather armor, mismatched weapons and varying standards, these men were naught but common thieves.

But better a common thief than a common assassin.

Thieves and bandits, he could take care of without having to reveal himself as a mage before he was ready to do so.

"Wake up, gentlemen" he heard the lead man order with a flourish of his arms, "more travelers to attend to!" He turned at shot an amused glance at them, "and led by an elf of all things..." he shook his head and clicked his tongue in disappointment that two perfectly able humans would lower themselves by following the lead of an elf.

Alim had to resist the urge to roll his eyes as another of the thieves spoke up. "Err… they don't look much like them others, you know," From the tone of his voice one could assume that this one was slow, though that kind of thing could be faked for an advantage when violence inevitably broke out, so he couldn't be certain. But a person didn't have to be smart in order to swing a warhammer around, and with luck he could shave some skin off of a skilled opponent. "Uh… Maybe we should just let these ones pass…"

"Nonsense," the chipper sounding leader said quickly, seemingly blinded by his own unexpected success, quite likely, seeing the dead templar poorly hidden behind a barrel. "Greetings travelers!"

"Highwaymen," Alistair muttered in disapproval, his tone still disturbingly empty. "Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose."

"Do not waste time bandying words with these witless worms Alim," Morrigan said, and for all his notions of mercy, Alim couldn't help but agree with her. "I say teach them a lesson."

"Now is that any way to greet someone?" the first man asked. "A simple ten silvers and you're free to move on."

"You should listen to your friend," Alim said with narrowed eyes, tightening his hand around his sword hilt threateningly. "We're not refugees."

Hohaku picked up on his threatening tone and started to growl lowly at the thieves, back away a step.

"Y'see, what did I tell you?" asked the dumb one, still speaking slowly. "No wagons, and this-one looks armed."

'Not half as dumb as he looks, is he? It is entirely plausible then, that the dullard act is just a ploy' Alim told himself silently.

"The toll applies to everyone, Hanric," the leader man said. "That's why it's a toll, and not, say..." the man pretended to search for his next words for a moment before finishing with "a refugee tax."

"Oh, right," said the one called Hanric, either he was playing along according to some preplanned script, or the flimsy justification of his friend was enough to get him to go along with the farce. "Even if you're no refugee, you still gotta pay."

"Forget it, I'm not paying," Alim shot the thieves down, getting into a combat stance with his magic blade.

With luck, they would assume it was simply an enchanted weapon.

His muscles may have temporarily lost their strength and speed from two weeks of malnutrition, but with luck his skill would make up for it, and hopefully he wouldn't have to use his magic. Plus, as was evidenced by the way these thieves handled their weapons, they were not soldiers or militiamen, they were just ordinary people taking advantage of those who would back down at the mere sight of a naked blade.

"Well, I can't say I'm pleased to hear that," the leader spoke again. "We have rules, you see."

"Right. We get to ransack your corpse then," Hanric added, not dropping the dullard act even when negotiations broke down, "those're the rules." Which meant that it was no act.

"Enough of this," Alim said in a tired and frustrated tone. He just wanted to get to the town inn, have himself a good meal and a stiff drink. But shite like this kept happening and pissing him off more and more with each passing moment.

"Well, this is going nowhere," the leader said with a sigh. "Let's take care of this then gents" the leader said, finally dropping his suave voice and picking his mace. Alistair drew his sword and took a small step to the side so he could intercept anyone who tried to come at Morrigan, while the witch herself took a few steps back and prepared her staff. She still remembered being surprised by that darkspawn who grabbed her, and she wasn't going to take any chances again.

Despite their rough time of it, the three of them had managed to work out some basic strategy and teamwork between them. Not enough to overcome groups of trained soldiers or larger darkspawn incursions, but more than enough for a bunch of thieves. Although with the addition of a wildcard like the mabari Hohaku...

Hohaku charged forward as the first thief let out a warcry, the large dog going straight for the dullard and pinning him to the ground before he could get in a swing of his hammer. Another thief, an archer, took aim for the dog and Alistair shot him between the eyes with the darkspawn crossbow he had apparently decided to keep from their earlier altercation.

Alim walked forward almost calmly before intercepting a mace with his sword, twisting on his heels he beheaded the mace wielder and going with the momentum he sank his blade into the chest of the next man.

Morrigan loosened her stance, seeing that nothing was going to surprise her with Alistair, Alim and the dog blocking the path and the thieves themselves not thinking to hide some of their numbers to try for an attack from behind, she raised her staff in one hand and made a game of picking the enemies of one by one with blasts of ice, lightning and arcane energy.

Hohaku finished mauling the now dead dullard and began to growl at the only remaining man standing, the leader who had dropped his mace and fell back against a wooden crate in terror.

"All right, Alright!" He pleaded in a terrified voice, "we, I surrender!" the man cried out.

Alim rolled his eyes, relaxed his grip on his weapon and walked forward calmly. "We… we-we're just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!"

"You picked the wrong target," Alim snarled, eyes burning. Hohaku growled at the man from his position at the elf's side.

"Yes! Yes! Of course… We should have been more careful," the man stuttered, his voice cracking. It was almost embarrassing, talking to him.

"Hand over everything you've stolen," he demanded from the man, sticking his weapon's wicked point under his chin.

"Yes! Yes, of course!" the man stuttered, carefully pulling out a bag that jingled with the sheer number of coins in it. "The coins we've collected are right here, just over a hundred silvers. The rest is in those chests, I swear!"

"Now you die," Alim snapped. "That's all you deserve."

The man stuttered, not expecting the finality of the elf's words even after having a blade at his throat for a full ten seconds. "I'm not going down without a fight!" the man insisted, expecting the elf to be the type to withdraw his weapon and try fighting him one on one. Alim scoffed and thrust his blade forward, impaling the man's neck and the box behind him in one motion.

The others had nothing to say about his unexpected brutality, though he suspected Alistair would ask him about it later. Morrigain just smirked at him with a knowing look of appraisal in her eye, and Hohaku sat down on his hindquarters and looked up at him, panting.

Alim walked over to where he saw the body of the templar and moved the barrel out of the way before he knelt down to rife through his belt pouch, looking for some form of identification. Inside found a note and a locket and skimming over it quickly he gleaned little of import.

So many of my fellow knights have been searching for the Urn. Surely one of them must have found Brother Genitivi by now. Still, until I hear that all is well, I must proceed as planned. Brother Genitivi holds the key to finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes: We always knew this, but I believe I now know where Brother Genitivi lies. I have been to his home in Denerim and found the trail, and I am amazed that other knights have not done likewise. Unless they have? No, it is best not to get caught up in thoughts of conspiracy. Ser Donall awaits my report in Lothering. I must go to him immediately and report what I have learned. Should anyone find these ramblings, all I ask is that he be informed of my fate. I pray that he complete what I cannot.

"Signed by Ser Henric of Redcliffe…" Alim read out loud. "A knight by the name of Donnall is waiting for him to report to him in Lothering." He sighed wearily; these things just kept piling up. He wondered if his work would ever be done. Well, they were headed to Lothering anyway, it wouldn't be too big of a detour for them to find the knight and inform him of his comrade's fate.

He stood again and checked through the rest of the things the highwaymen had taken from their victims. Aside from the coin pouch he had already taken from the now dead leader, there was nothing of value here. Well, nothing they could take with them at least.

"Ready to continue then?" Morrigan asked facetiously, Alim shot her a halfhearted glare and continued down the path.

"Well..." a voice called out, and Alim was surprised to note that it was Alistair. He hadn't spoken up in so long, barring the incident with the dog and his heated arguments with Morrigan, he hadn't expected to hear from him so soon. "There it is. Lothering, pretty as a painting," Alistair said as they looked out over the from his tone of voice, he was guessing that he had at long last gotten over the events of Ostagar.

"Ah, so you have finally decided to rejoin us, have you?" Morrigan asked, in her usual snarky tone, but strangely enough without its usual acid. "Falling on your blade in grief seemed like too much trouble, I take it?"

And there it was.

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" Alistair challenged. "Have you never lost someone important to you? What would you do if your mother died?" Alim turned away and sighed heavily.

"Before or after I stopped laughing?" Morrigan countered, smirking.

"Right, very creepy, forget I asked," Alistair conceded, sighing in exasperation.

"What did you want to talk about, Alistair?" Alim said quickly before Morrigan could speak again. It didn't work however, as the witch couldn't resist getting in another dig at their resident ex-templar.

"His naval, I suspect," the apostate said sarcastically. "He's certainly been contemplating it for long enough."

"Oh, I get it," Alistair spoke up with a mean-spirited smirk of his own. "This is the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life." Alim opened his mouth to speak up and head off the impending argument but was cut off once again.

"I can be friendly when I desire to," Morrigan said indignantly. "But alas," she started, crossing her arms and looking down her nose at the male human, "desiring to be more intelligent does not make it so."

Alistair looked like he wanted to retort, to walk over to her and smack her, to unleash a holy smite upon her, to do something... but instead he turned to Alim and ignored her. Something which, he was pleased to note, incensed her far more than any of those earlier options... except maybe the smite, he expected that one would make her want to kill him in his sleep.

"Anyway, I thought we should talk about where we intend to go, first," Alistair said, ignoring the simmering Morrigan.

He hummed thoughtfully, turning to look out at Lothering for a moment, gazing out over the small provincial town, the people milling about... 'it hasn't changed a bit.'

"We should try to use these treaties first, I assume." He said simple, trying to remember the Ferelden maps he had read back at the Tower. Geography had never been his strong suit, so the first step would be to purchase a map from a local grocer and let Alistair guide the way. Morrigan, having grown up in a hut in the woods, would be even worse with maps than Alim himself was.

"Yes, but have you looked at them yet?" he asked.

"Yes" Alim, "there was little else to do in the wilds." Alistair winced at the reminder of what the three of the would probably remember as the worst two weeks in their lives. "The first step, I think, is to buy a map. I've never been very good at geography, and Morrigan is probably even worse than me, so that'll be your job Alistair."

Morrigan scoffed at the admonishment of her abilities, however true, and refrained herself from commenting about it. "That's fair enough I suppose. Let's head into the village whenever you're ready."