Sorry this has taken so long. Life just has not cut me any slack. Hope everyone enjoys it! Please let me know what you think. I love getting to hear from my readers.
00000000000000000000000
The dragon soared overhead as Damien looked down on the hordes of darkspawn marching toward the surface. How was he supposed to stop all those monsters with just the forces he had now. True, he had the mages, but after the incident in the tower, their numbers were less than a tenth of what they needed. Same with the templars. By his count, he had maybe 100 mages ready for battle and 200 templars. He might have another 20 or so from Redcliffe village, but that still left his forces standing with less than 400 troops. The army lost at Ostagar numbered in the thousands and the darkspawn essentially wiped them out with numbers. Now, those blighted bastards were marching more reinforcements up likely tripling the size of their horde. If he was going to have a prayer of saving Fereldan, he would need not only more troops, but experienced soldiers, knights preferably. Suddenly a roar shook Damien to his core and jolted him awake from his slumber.
The young warden sat up straight in the bed. Sweat rolled down his face and his body felt cold even as his heart raced. Taking a breath, he tried to calm himself down before turning his feet out of bed. He exhaled and rubbed his eyes trying to push the image of the dragon out.
Damien needed a little time to be on his own. Maybe he would sneak down to the kitchen and make off with some ham and cheese just like the old days. Although with his appetite now, he might need to take a whole ham hock and a wheel of cheese to fill him up. Just for a bit, he was going to relax. Since that night in Highever when he was recruited to the Wardens, he had been moving and fighting. He had been wounded several times and now was in charge of a small ragtag group of fighters as well as rallying an army. Just for that day, he was going to take some time to do something fun. Maybe even take a little dip in the lake for a nice swim. After all, the next few weeks were likely going to be bitter cold in the mountains and fighting through Maker knew what. Glancing over at the door, Damien pressed his ear to the panel and listened. There was definitely someone in the hall way. Maybe if he unlocked the door then went out the window, he could avoid being seen.
He unlatched the lock before sneaking over to the window and slipping out. The brick work along the wall was old and had several places from him to hold onto. Getting down would be the easy part, if all else failed he could just let go and use his magic to slow his decent enough to land unharmed. Getting back up to his room without being seen would certainly be a bigger challenge.
Making his way down to the docks opposite the village, Damien stripped everything but a knife he had strapped to his calf and leaped into the water. The lake was cold but it felt good against his skin washing his sweat away. If only his worries and doubts were so easy to wash away.
After swimming for a good while, he climbed from the water and perched himself on a rock under the sun and let the rays dry him.
"This kingdom is one crazy place," Damien said tucking his hands behind his head. "To think that even with a Blight and a civil war raging at the same time, there can still be peace like this."
Once he was dry, he dressed himself and climbed back up to his room in the castle. The swim and climb stretched out his muscles and helped him loosen up again. Most of the stiffness was gone, thank the Maker. Time to return to his role as the Warden-Commander. Hopefully, no one had tried to find him while he was having his little swim.
"Commander!" Alistair shouted from the door.
"What?" Damien shouted back. So much for that hope.
"Good your not dead. We need you."
"Where?"
"The Great Hall," Alistair responded.
Damien sighed and quickly strapped on his armor and grabbed his weapons. He smiled having Duncan's weapons with him again made him feel more comfortable. He could be faster with them compared to the others he had taken to get the mages. Maker willing, he would not need them while they were staying in the castle.
000
Everyone had gathered in the Great Hall to welcome a small group of nobles. Damien covered his nose and mouth with his scarf as he entered the room making sure that no one saw his face.
"Welcome Warden-Commander, we feared you were still recovering," Bann Teagan stated as Damien approached.
"My apologies for my absence. I was told you wanted to speak with me?" Damien replied eyeing the visitors. There were a few whose crests he recognized from his travels, but most were low ranking nobles with little clout. Most likely supporters of Arl Eamon.
"Our guests have come to pledge their support to the Grey Wardens in the current Blight, however, Loghain is trying to force them to surrender their troops to him to rebuild his army at Denerim," Bann Teagan explained.
"I'm guessing you are here to ask for assistance from Arl Eamon. That being said, neither he nor I are in a position that would allow us to give aid to any of you against Loghain or the Blight at this time." Damien could see the expressions on their faces fall. He wanted to help. Anything to disrupt Loghain's plans, however, killing enemy soldiers that might be useful against the Blight seemed short sighted.
"Damien, we could-" Alyssa started but Damien raised his hand silencing her.
"First, our goal must be restoring order here in Redcliffe. Arl Eamon was not at Ostagar and still has his army and knights. If we can find a way to wake him, he would be a reliable ally for everyone here, including myself. For the time being, look to your own, avoid open conflicts with Logahain's forces, and conserve your soldiers. Leave meeting points with me before you depart and I will make it a point to find you after Arl Eamon has recovered to discuss future action both against the Blight and Loghain," Damien announced before turning to Bann Teagan. "Have them write down a location to meet on a map and leave it here with you. When I find the Urn of Sacred Ashes, I'll return. Please keep things moving here until your brother can be awoken."
"You have my word, commander," Teagan stated nodding.
"Ready the wagons. We depart tomorrow at first light. Pack plenty of rations and warm clothes. The Frostbacks are unforgiving to say the least," Damien stated patting Alyssa on the shoulder as he passed. Lyna quickly fell in step next to him as he made his way out of the great hall.
"The mountains? Is this because of the chat Leliana told me about between you and that cultist?" Lyna asked.
"Lyna, you know me so well. Yes, he pretty much told me where we need to go," Damien acknowledged smirking over at his companion.
"Where's that?"
"A village in the mountains that very few people have heard of or come back from. Merchants steer clear because the last few that tried haven't been seen since. The rumor is that the locals are a secretive and could be considered a cult. Extremely dangerous," Damien explained patting his daggers.
"In the cold snows of the Frostbacks with dangerous people who might try to kill us on sight all to find an old urn that may not exist in the hopes that it might heal Arl Eamon. Do I have that about right?" Lyna asked keeping pace with Damien.
"When you put it like that, it sounds so much more fun," Damien teased smirking.
"I thought you would say something crazy like that," Lyna replied.
Damien smiled before stretching his arms up toward the ceiling. The swim had done him some good, but the ride in the carts would have to give him the time he needed to completely heal and rest. He wondered if White Fox would still be waiting after they found the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Maker knew if she had heard about that kind of score, she would have immediately joined them looking to sell the location to the Chantry for a chest of sovereigns no doubt. Even if her specialty was weapons and weapon designs. She would not have been a decent thief if she had turned down an opportunity like that. Perhaps he would find a way to set up a rendezvous to hear about that job she told him about after the urn was found so she was not tempted to steal the thing herself.
000
Redcliffe sent Damien and his company off by lining the road on either side and cheering as the group passed. Alistair waved like a buffoon from the driver seat of the cart laughing more at himself than anything else. It made Damien smile. The others were scattered about thanking villagers as they handed his companions extra food, wine, and flowers. Damien sat in the back of their cart with his hood up and his scarf covering his face once more keeping an eye on the crowd. The new armor Bann Teagan had presented him was more comfortable than his last set allowing him to relax even while dressed for battle. The letter from Slim had him on edge since it mentioned the Crows coming after him. He wondered just when they would catch up to him and how they would attack. He wondered if he should change into his Grey Warden armor so that if the assassins did catch up to them, they would focus on him rather than any of the others.
"Hey Damien, since our company keeps growing, we might want to acquire another cart," Alyssa said keeping pace with the cart. Damien nodded. They really needed another cart for their supplies so if any of them were wounded, there would be a cart they could ride in without having to fit themselves between the weapons and rations. Bohdan had offered to help transport some of their companions, but his cart was just as full of supplies, weapons, and armor. With every town they stopped in, the cart only got more full. Although, adding another cart would make them even more noticeable and more likely to be attacked by bandits. Despite the risk of attack, the pros did out weigh the cons. Perhaps they would stop in Rainsfere before heading to the mountains and purchase another cart as well as thicker clothes for the journey.
"Sounds good to me. Rainsfere will have everything we need. Should take us three days to get there, then a day to prepare. The final trip to Haven should take about a day and a half," Damien said examining the map before leaning back and resting against a bag of potatoes.
"Do you think the Arl will last long enough for us to get back with the Urn?" Kalli asked from the front of the cart.
"He should. I would say without any help he could last a month," Wynne advised from her seat on Bodhan's cart.
"Then that is the time limit. No matter what, we have to have the urn and make it back to Redcliffe in a month, clear?" Damien announced.
"I really appreciate this Damien," Alistair stated from the driver seat.
"No problem... actually, I found something when I woke up in the study back at the castle. It was with a letter that had your name on it, I figured it was yours. I just haven't had the chance to give it to you," Damien said looking in his bag. He noticed the black grimoire as well and looked around for Morrigan. He didn't see her. He would give her the book later.
The letter and locket were passed up to Alistair. Damien had never seen a more surprised look on the warden's face. Like a distant memory had all of a sudden become completely clear and warmed him from his heart out.
"I thought this was broken," Alistair said softly as he turned the reins over to Kalli and climbed into the back of the cart.
"So it used to belong to you?" Damien asked. He had assumed as much but he had not been sure.
"It belonged to my mother. It was the only memory I had of hers, but when the chantry came to take me for my training with the templars, I got mad an threw it against the wall. I can't believe Arl Eamon kept this all these years," Alistair explained opening the letter.
"I'm glad it's back where it belongs," Damien stated smiling over at his friend. Whatever small joys they could find on this perilous journey, Damien believed they needed to enjoy them. Maker knew they had more than enough danger looming in the near future.
000
After a full day of traveling, the company made their camp just off the road in a small clearing under a cliff. The troop split up duties for cooking, setting up the tents and gathering provisions from the surrounding area as they always did, but Damien found himself with very little to do. He decided to try reading through some of the letters that they had recovered from the King's tent at Ostagar. If he was going to get better at reading and writing, he needed the practice.
As he read through the letters, he started to notice a few things about the way they were written. The first letter was what one would expect to pass between two rulers, official and all business with a few pleasantries tossed in. Proper edict in their speech and word choice as well as a certain feel to the letters that made Damien think of a postured and proud noble speaking. Yet, the last letter not only dropped quite a bit of the formality and edict, but felt more like a conversation between two friends. Far more familiar than a married king should be with a former enemy's empress.
Perhaps the king's journals could help explain the change. Damien as sure that he had seen at least one in the chest when he retrieved the letters, but as he dug through, he found a latch on the bottom panel of the chest. A hidden compartment. Damien smirked and moved all the letters and papers aside so he could see. The hatch was small. Likely only for documents or a small piece of jewelry. A light pull lifted the small door revealing another group of letters bound by a red ribbon.
"Hello, what have we here?" Damien whispered as he pulled the papers out. He skimmed through reading every other word, but they turned out to be personal letters between King Cailan and Empress Saline. The oldest letters seemed to be simply friendly letters, but the more he read, the more intimate and romantic the language became. Some of the lines seemed down right artistic. The last letter discussed meeting face to face once the Blight was settled in Val Royeaux. That would certainly have caused an uproar in Denerim.
Damien stowed the letters back in the hidden compartment and rubbed his forehead. It took so much longer than he had planned to finish reading and it looked like most of the camp had been set up. Maker, he needed to get more practice with reading. Writing too if he ever got the chance.
"Dinner is over the fire. Squirrel stew tonight," Lyna stated sitting down next to Damien.
"You know, maybe tomorrow we could try to get a deer. I could use a venison steak with some roasted potatoes," Damien jested smiling broadly as he leaned back. As he did, his hand knocked against the wrapped up black grimoire that he had found in the Circle Tower. He had meant to give it to Morrigan as soon as they got back but with his injuries, the disaster in Redcliffe, and his emergency trip back across the lake, he had completely forgotten.
"What's that?" Lyna asked as Damien stared at the book.
"Something that will most likely get me killed faster than any darkspawn," Damien stated picking up the parcel and setting it on his lap.
Lyna leaned forward giving Damien a quizzical look.
"I found this book in the tower and from what little I was able to get out of it, it's a grimoire that belonged to Flemeth. I planned on giving it to Morrigan, but if I do it now, she might turn into a bear and eat me for not handing it over sooner," Damien explained. As crazy as that sentence sounded for him to say out loud, he believed it really could happen.
"Well, hopefully she won't ask where or when you got it and just be happy that you're giving it to her," Lyna encouraged.
"Does that mean you will come with me to hand it over?" Damien asked.
"Creators, are you crazy? I don't want to be eaten," Lyna teased hopping up and heading for the fire where the others were starting dinner.
"Thanks so much. Very encouraging," Damien groaned pushing himself onto his feet and retrieving the heavy book. "Well, have to die someday right?"
Damien made his way over to Morrigan's campsite. He didn't understand why she always set up her own fire and tent away from everyone else. It wasn't like she was any safer, although, with four wardens sleeping on close proximity having nightmares nearly every night, it might not have been easy to sleep with all their noise.
"Greeting Damien. What brings you here?" Morrigan asked as she stoked her fire.
"I found a book that I think you will find interesting," Damien said handing over the book. He nodded and immediately turned to leave. If he left before she had a chance to question where he got it, maybe he could avoid having to admit that he had had the book in his possession for well over a week now, nearly two.
"This is Flemeth's grimiore."
The exclamation made him smile as he made his way back to the others. The stew smelled like it was almost done and he was hungry.