Judy: thank you for sticking around and commenting even through my lag posting.
This chapter correspondes to Chapters 22/23 in Seeking Alistair
Cailan set about cleaning several root vegetables and adding them to the pot hanging at the end of the tripod. He wouldn't hold it against her, that she thought him a spoiled noble with no skills.
Most people thought nobles did nothing for themselves. And maybe most didn't. But he grew up with Maric, the savior of Ferelden. His father spent two thirds of his life on the run without servants. His son wasn't given to being pampered.
She had saved his life at great expense to her own. And as far as they knew she was the only Grey Warden left in the land. If this were a true blight, they would be in real trouble. Help from the Wardens in other countries would not come soon enough. Ferelden would fall. For what could one small girl do against an Archdemon?
He mourned Duncan. Besides being a friend to his father, Duncan watched over and protected Alistair to the best of his ability. There was also at sorrow for all who sacrificed their lives for his but most of all he grieved for Alistair. The brother he'd always wanted but never had a chance to get to know.
He had demanded Duncan put him in the safest place, away from the battle. And he imagined his stubborn brother wasn't happy about the decision. One day he would have made it up to him. But it seemed the Tower of Ishal wasn't far enough away.
He looked over again at the sleeping girl. Her Mabari had laid down allowing her to recline even farther. And probably in his opinion more comfortably. In her sleep, she looked to be fifteen or sixteen. When they met, he had not thought to ask her age. Now knowing they depended on her he wondered if she might just be to young for the burden placed on her.
Everything was in the pot and cooking at a good boil. His stomach rumbled. He couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. But he wasn't willing to eat with an unwashed body. The stench of blood, death and shit clung to him.
He dropped the blanket he'd been wearing as a makeshift clothing while his clothes dried on the cot. Carefully not to disturb the sleeping Warden he walked over to the lake and waded in. The water was cold enough to take his breath away for a moment.
His training as a solider from the time he was ten summers gave him plenty of courage. But the will to submerge his body in the water was almost more than he could force himself.
The stiff caked strands of hair that were flaking dried blood and gore whenever he touched his hair or shook his head pushed him to grit his teeth and dunk. Scrubbing his body and hair with water and sand, he washed as quickly as he could.
He broke the surface with a gasp and a shudder. He hoped he was clean because that was about as much as he could stand.
He was grateful his companion was asleep because if he had an audience, he might have felt the need to show how much more he could take.
He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around his body heading for the fire. It would take the soup to warm him, but for now, the fire would chase some of the chill away. As he looked over his garments, he debated if they should have pulled them off when they took the armor.
There were holes and gashes in the linen. The blood had stained the fabric leaving a brown dingy looking undershirt. Holding on to the blanket with one hand he struggled to put on his braccae, hopping with first one leg and then the other.
Leaving the drawstring of the pants untied he realized he had no choice but to but to put the torn linen shirt back on. Without it, the leather armor would chafe. When he got back to the castle, he didn't know if he would burn it or keep it as monument.
He used the free moment to look over his new, used armor and was happy with the quality. It wasn't his but sacrifices meant his life or his armor. He could have a new suit fashioned.
Suddenly a woman's scream pierced the quiet.
Instinctively reaching for that sword on the belt that wasn't there.
Cailan looked around for the source of attack. Nothing.
He looked to her Mabari, but the hound only raised his head and looked around ears twitching, no more than just alert. Which meant whatever sacred her was in her own mind. Cailan debated waking her up. He shook his head sadly. She was just a young girl trying to deal with things a battle harden solider was trained to overcome. Deciding now was probably a good time as the stew should be ready.
"Oh Maker! No!" I exclaimed bolting upright. The terror of the nightmare made my breath short, ragged gasps as I looked around wildly to be sure I was above ground, and that hideous dragon wasn't in the clearing.
"Are you alright?" Cailan asked.
"The Archdemon. I saw him. He looked at me and was trying to say something to me."
"Are you sure? This was your first time in combat and killing is stressful for battle-hardened soldiers. Could you just be having nightmares because of the trauma?"
I scowled at the king. Wondering why he believed as deeply about Grey Wardens and yet he doesn't believe me when I say I saw the archdemon. "Yes. Unless trauma makes you see a big, ugly purple dragon flying over a mass of darkspawn in tunnels you have never been."
"So that is why Duncan was so certain that this was a true blight. I wish I had taken his warnings a little more seriously." With a sad chuckle he added. "Your dragon didn't happen to tell you when he was coming to the surface or where. We could use all the advance warning we could get."
"Your majesty! That's not something to joke about. But I don't know. He could have been. I couldn't understand him. It was a different language or something."
I stood trying to work some of the kinks and stiffness out of my body. Which is telling me how badly I have abused it over the last several days. The smell of the stew in the pot made my mouth water. It reminded me that though I ached I hadn't eaten in days.
I didn't know what to say. I know Duncan tried to get him to wait for Arl Eamon's men, but it wouldn't help reminding him of that now. I wasn't even sure that with the Alr's men the outcome would have been different with the Teyrn's treachery. And I wanted to offer some comfort.
"Well now that you do know, you'll figure something out. My teacher used to tell Jowan that we just needed to find another use for the wasted lyrium."
"Spilled milk analogy?"
I shrug. "More or less but not quite as callous, your Majesty. It's really just a reminder you can always improve on something wrong."
Calian smiled at her attempt in making him feel better. And there was some truth to the thought. Maybe when they decided what they were going to do next he could put her teacher's principle to work.
"Your dream. Do you think the Archdemon knows where to find you?" Cailan changing the subject.
"I don't know. Honestly, Sire all I know about being a Grey Warden is… Stop the blight. Kill the Archdemon.
Alistair one of the Grey Wardens told me that much. He said Grey Wardens know when darkspawn are nearby. So maybe he would know if I was close. I am assuming if Duncan had lived, he would've explained. But all I have left of him is that dagger I let you borrow."
Cailan pulled the dagger from the belt behind his back. Flipped it blade over pommel and handed it back to me hilt first. "I had wondered where a Mage would get an obsidian blade with almost perfect balance. He must have felt you were a worthy enough warrior to give it to you."
I frowned. I didn't want to disillusion the king. He had enough guilt from Ostagar hanging over his head to think that the revered Grey Wardens would accept a criminal like Daveth or me. Besides when he gave it to me as a gift, he said to keep it until I unraveled the mystery behind it destroying the taint.
"Actually, your majesty he only loaned to me. I came from the tower with only a change of clothes, two parting gifts and the clothes on my back. Which isn't a big deal since mages don't have many personal items. Most assuredly no weapons. But thank you and I'm starving so can we eat."
Cailan could tell that there was a story there but chose not to push for the moment as he was starving too. At the table, two bowls looked frequently used. He grabbed them both and ladled the thick liquid. Handing me the bowl he said, "So it takes an archdemon to get a mage to swear like a proper Ferelden."
"What do you mean?" I asked concerned.
"You woke up crying out to the Maker," Cailan said taking a bite.
"Well, I guess there is another reason for Knight Rutherford to be disappointed in me."
"Oh," Cailan said sitting down on the cot next to his savior. He had a feeling this was the story he'd sensed earlier. "What was the first reason?"
As we sat there eating the rabbit stew his Majesty prepared, I found myself telling the story of how I became conscripted to the Grey Wardens despite my desire to keep it from Cailan. He turned out to be more persuasive than I realized.
I was surprised that he had nothing to say about Jowan or my helping of a blood mage. He didn't even seem shocked at the conscription instead of tranquility. Maybe because he didn't understand what it meant to be made tranquil.
I stood to get a second bowl of stew. Normally for me one serving would be enough. But I chalked it up to not eating in the last several days. I dropped the ladle completely in the pot started by the flapping of giant wings and Teyrn's furiously barking.
Cailan and I exchanged glances. We were trying to figure out if the dragon who'd just landed was real or imagined. "Is that your Archdemon?"
"How is that big, ugly, and purple?"
"So, not the Archdemon?"
"No. He is beautiful, for a dragon.
"Did you hurt your head at Ostagar and need a few of your own healing potions? A beautiful dragon!? Only a Mage would say that."
"Obviously not when they're swooping and spewing fire, but he's not."
"No swooping is bad."
I looked at him curiously. For a moment, it was de ja vu. Alistair's warning about Morrigan. "Agreed swooping is bad. But he's not swooping. He landed. Get behind me, your Majesty."
"Do you think he is the reason we haven't been bothered by Darkspwan?"
"No those are her wards. But wards that powerful should also deter rouge dragons."
"Could it be her pet?"
"Possibly," I said shrugging. "I saw a red dragon as it flew across the battlefield just before Duncan died. It could be the same one. I've never heard of it, but I am just a Circle Mage. Who would have thought a Chasined version of a Mabari? I must admit; it would be spectacular. How I could get one."
"What about Teyrn? Wait a minute what sensible human wants …" Cailan was silenced by the roar of the mighty red dragon.
The blast wave from the giant maw knocked us backward into the lake. As his majesty had refused to get behind me when I told him to, I was submerged under the weight of his body. I pushed him off me and broke the surface just as a golden spirit form encircles a woman in red armor walking towards us.
"Is she a dragon or a person?" Cailan hissed.
Hearing him, she threw back her head and cackled, "I am both and neither. Bodies are so limiting, don't you think."
The voice was the old woman I met earlier as Morrigan's mother. But this. I had a feeling this was the warrior or witch all the legends were about. I allowed King Cailan to help me out of the water while I decided what to say.
My intuition said keep it simple and polite. "You said you were nothing if not hospitable. I … we thank you for the use of the wards and the respite from the darkspawn."