A Game of Thorns – A Leak at the Peak
Part 1 – The Exorcism of Sophia Rose
One morning I found a stranger in our camp. Aiden was vigilant and no one could have slipped past him unnoticed, but he had better have a good explanation for letting someone in our camp without my say. I walked toward the man to find out who he was and why he'd come to us. Aiden intercepted me on the way.
"Winter, good morning," he greeted cheerfully. My stony silence didn't douse his mood in the least. "This fellow, Levi something, I forgot his last name, he said Duncan made him a promise. He wants to talk to you. I didn't get all the details from him, but it sounds like a grand adventure."
"Slow down," I cautioned. "Let me find out what this is about, then we'll see if we can help him or if you need to throw your new friend out." I would speak to Aiden later about letting people in on his own authority. Right now, I needed to learn more of this stranger and the alleged promise.
It sounded legitimate. The man, Levi Dryden, and his family had been friends of Duncan's. Before the darkspawn attack, Duncan had promised to help Levi clear his great-great grandmother's name. She was Sophia Dryden, once the warden-commander of Ferelden and leader of the wardens' old base at Soldier's Peak. Because it was something Duncan had wanted to do, I felt we should fulfill his promise. Alistair would appreciate a chance to participate in something his mentor had wanted to do.
"I'll gather a party and we'll be there as soon as possible," I told Levi. Aiden, who had done the right thing after all, would come along on the excursion. Alistair, Zevran, and Morrigan made up the rest of the party. Maybe with Aiden along, it would minimize the friction between Alistair and Morrigan. Their verbal jabs were tiresome and Morrigan was relentless. Aiden provided a good distraction and she was less inclined to be vindictive with him around.
Soldier's Peak was located in the far north of Ferelden between Amaranthine and Highever. It was awe-inspiring from a distance, rising from the snowy hills like an ornate stone sentry. In its day, it could just as easily have housed a king and his court as an army of Grey Wardens.
Levi waited for us at the base of the hill upon which the Peak stood. As soon as we set foot on the grounds, we were arrested by a vision of soldiers. They were talking about taking the Peak, cutting off supplies, and starving the wardens out to win the battle. A reasonable strategy, but these soldiers had died four generations ago. How was I seeing and hearing them? I wasn't the only one who had the vision. The entire party and Levi saw and heard the same things I did.
"What was that?" Levi asked with a tremor in his voice. "What's going on?"
"Magic," Alistair answered grimly.
"Blood magic," Morrigan agreed.
"Let's find out who's behind it," I said, and walked on.
In the great hall of the Peak, we got another vision. This one was of Sophia Dryden, giving a pre-battle speech to her wardens, followed by a third vision of her in the midst of battle, ordering her mage to "do whatever it takes." That "whatever" was shocking. Warden-Commander Dryden had instructed or allowed her mages to use blood magic to summon demons to fight for them. Demons, being evil by nature, wouldn't do the bidding of a mage or a Grey Warden. They turned on the wardens and possessed Sophia, her wardens, and the enemy. The Peak was lost, and now, it was haunted by the undead.
We found Sophia's office and went inside. There, to our disbelieving eyes, was Sophia Dryden, her back to us, gazing at a painting behind her desk. She turned to us, her face blackened and distorted, like a corpse whose decomposition had been interrupted.
"Step no further, Warden," it commanded me. "This one would speak with you."
"A nice cozy chat with a demon? I can hardly wait," I smirked.
The possessed Sophia wanted to make a deal. She would mend the tear in the veil between the material world and the Fade, through which demons were entering our realm, in exchange for her freedom. "Your freedom? Do you plan to roam about in Sophia Dryden's rotting corpse?"
"This one will take another host," it replied. "The Dryden is failing, and will turn to ash when this one leaves its body. Mortals are so frail."
"I would take it up on its offer, if I were you," Morrigan confided. "Only a demon or a blood mage has the power to mend the veil. Such a thing is beyond the scope of my abilities."
"Your subordinate speaks the truth," the Dryden-demon confirmed. "Without this one's help, the veil cannot be mended."
"Fine, you can go, but first you'll have to mend the veil."
Alistair stared at me, unsure if he'd heard me right. "Did you just agree to let a demon loose?"
"I did," I answered. I gave him a meaningful look that I hoped he could read. "It's for the best."
He missed my nonverbal message. "I hope you know what you're doing."
"There is something else," the Dryden thing said. "Once I mend the veil you must clear the Peak. There are demons and undead that cannot continue."
"Agreed," I said. "Mend the veil."
It began some sort of spellcasting ritual. Almost immediately, demons appeared in the room. We killed them all, and the Dryden-demon pronounced the veil mended and strong.
"Go to the tower," it said. "Kill everything there, then return."
"I have a better idea," I said. "I'd hate to have to double back needlessly when I can kill you here and now."
"Deceiver!" it cried. "This one will crush you."
"This one won't stand for that," I rejoined, drawing my swords. Alistair, Aiden, and Zevran drew their blades and Morrigan pelted the demon with ice. It was dead in seconds. As its host body decayed, so did its power, and it didn't have the strength to ward off Morrigan's most basic spell, much less seven sharp blades. As it predicted, Sophia's corpse collapsed into a pile of ash.
"Damn nice armor," Aiden observed.
We gathered the pieces of Sophia's armor and set them by the exit, then went to the tower, killing undead and walking skeletons along the way. In the back room of the tower, we found an old mage. Very old. He looked familiar.
"I believe it's Sophia Dryden's mage Avernus," I said to my companions. Levi kept a safe distance from anything that looked dangerous, which was everything in the Peak so far.
"I'm not so old that I don't know who I am," the old man retorted. "Did you make a deal with the demon in the Peak? I see the veil has been mended."
I didn't feel I owed him any answers, but instead asked him, "How have you survived so long? Are you possessed too?"
"No, I'm not possessed. I've kept myself alive with spells and potions."
"Ah yes, blood magic. There's nothing quite like extending your years by stealing the lives of others, is there?" I remarked cynically. "I'm glad you stayed long enough for me to ask you why you summoned demons, and used Grey Wardens for your sadistic experiments."
"So you've read my journal? Then you know why. I did whatever was needed to win."
"That's not entirely true," I said. "Your experiments killed almost as many men as were killed in the war. And in case you weren't aware, the Peak was lost. You're a murderer, Avernus, and you'll die for your crimes."
Morrigan objected. "Is that always the rule? To kill a blood mage on sight?"
I leaned to Aiden and whispered, "I'll give you the night off watch duty if you can put an arrow through that old frog's head."
"Done," he answered. He slid his bow off his shoulder, grabbed an arrow, and before Avernus could cast a protective ward, he sent the arrow through the old man's forehead.
"Wow," Alistair said. "Nice shot."
"And you thought Leliana was the only archer in the camp," Aiden boasted. He'd earned that boast.
"Yes Aiden, great work," Morrigan jeered. "You murdered an old man."
"It's not murder," he replied. "I took out the trash."
"I guess that night off will come in handy," I said to Aiden, and received a roguish grin in return. His affair with Morrigan was known but he never spoke of it. One thing was sure: he had to tread lightly to stay on her good side regardless of what she may have felt for him. I turned to Levi and said, "The Peak is yours to use for now. Just know that it remains Grey Warden property."
"Much obliged," he answered. It was the first words he'd spoken since we entered the Peak. He was still frightened, but was slowly coming to terms with the things he'd seen. "It's too bad Sophia turned out to be as guilty as the stories said she was. But now we know the truth." He looked around at the cobwebs and broken skeletons. "I guess I should get busy cleaning and repairing around here. If the wardens ever return, it will be in fine shape."
"That was invigorating," Zevran remarked. "I must say, dear Warden, I did not think you so ruthless as to make a bargain with a demon. You would make an excellent Crow."
"Or so I have been told," I replied, imitating his accent and quoting a line he used too often. He either didn't notice or didn't care for my humor. I could see Alistair out of the corner of my eye, smiling at my mimicry. I continued (in my normal accent), "As for my bargain, I never intended to keep my end and let that thing go free. I made an empty promise to a spirit that wasn't smart enough to know I was lying. You, of all people, should be familiar with the usefulness of deceit."
"Indeed I am, and I applaud you for that as well."
My actions were hardly praiseworthy, but I wasn't inclined to discuss them with the likes of Zev. He had grown on me in the past weeks, but his methods and mine were as different as our philosophies. He believed two things to be of foremost importance: sex and coin. I believed as all Grey Wardens did—that duty came before anything else, including and especially personal pleasure and monetary gain. With that in mind, I helped gather up the loot and carry it to camp.
Monetary gain was one thing; keeping my party well-equipped was another. I handed Morrigan a powerful new staff, which she snatched from my hands so eagerly I thought she might have taken some of my skin with it. I was tempted to check my palms to make sure they were intact. I offered her Avernus' robes, which were enchanted with more spellpower than her skimpy top and leather skirt, but she refused it. It was more suited to a blood mage, she said. Knowing that, I tossed it into the campfire.
Alistair tried on the warden-commander armor. He looked incredible in it, and it provided him a lot more protection than his old scale armor. In one of his classic moments of idiotic banter, he asked, "Are you sure it doesn't make my butt look too big? Sophia had quite an arse on her."
"I'm not even going to try to answer that one," I sighed. "It's been a long, tough mission, and this warden needs her rest." Someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was Aiden.
"Forget something?" he smiled.
"Ohh," I groaned. I was fatigued, but I had given my word. "I'm sorry, Aiden; it slipped my mind. Of course you have the night off and I'll stand watch. Go enjoy yourself, or whatever it is you do."
"It's ok boss, I'll take my shift. Go rest and we'll make it up another time."
"No, I made a promise and I intend to keep it. Go. I'll be fine."
We passed it back and forth until it almost became an argument. Alistair stepped in. "If you two are going to act like children, I'll take watch and you can both go to your tents."
"When I gave him the night off, it wasn't to push the duty onto someone else," I protested.
"I said go," he repeated firmly. "As senior warden, that's an order." He must have been put off with us. He had never pulled rank before. Or maybe the armor had an effect on him.
"Yes, warden-commander," I said. I left the men outside and went to my tent. In a couple of minutes, I had stripped off my armor, stretched out on my bedroll, pulled a light blanket up to my chin, and dozed off.
Part 2 - Truth or Dare
My sleep was disturbed by dreams of Redcliffe. I envisioned the castle, not as we left it but crawling with the undead. My party wasn't with me so I had to fight them alone. The Guerrin brothers were in danger, and if I didn't reach them soon, the monsters would overpower and kill them. The hallway was long, and the more I ran toward them, the further away they seemed to be. Each door that lined the corridor opened, and undead rushed toward me. When I arrived at the last door before I would enter the room where the Guerrins were fighting for their lives, a large number of undead rushed out at me. I fought as hard as I could, swinging both swords with lethal accuracy, and finally putting the last of them down, but not soon enough. Eamon fell, pierced through the heart, before I could help him. The monsters turned their sights on Teagan. There were more of them than any one person could fight off.
The last thing I saw was Teagan as he glanced up with an expression I couldn't read. Remorse, defeat, reproach? I'd failed Eamon, and now I would fail him. A monster stood behind him, sword poised to run him through. I tried to warn him but couldn't form sound. I tried anyway, silently calling out to him and running toward him with all my strength, but to no avail.
Something touched my shoulder and I sat up with a gasp of terror. Alistair embraced my trembling body and spoke in soothing tones. "Shh… it's alright, I'm here. You were having a nightmare. Dreaming of Redcliffe by the way it sounded. You called out Teagan's name. Were you reliving the fight you had with him?" I shook my head, unable to put the dream into words as it began to recede from memory. What lingered was a fear that the Guerrin brothers were again in danger.
"On the way to Orzammar, I want to stop by Redcliffe," I said. "I know it was only a dream, but I'd like to see for myself that Eamon and Teagan are alright."
"Of course we'll go," he agreed. "Just so you know, sometimes brushes with demons, like the ones we encountered at Soldier's Peak, can bring on nightmares. They feed upon our past experiences and distort them to plant fear in our dreams."
"Right, because Grey Wardens don't have enough trouble sleeping without the archdemon sticking his ugly face in our dreams," I retorted.
He agreed. "Will you be alright now? I should get back to my watch. Zevran is out there and I still don't trust him."
"He's not a threat, Alistair. He's just a little unusual."
"That's putting it mildly," he said, exiting my tent.
Sleeping was out of the question for now. I was still not fully rested, but I didn't want to have a repeat of that nightmare. Maybe some fresh air would help. Unwilling to put on the cumbersome armor, I wrapped my blanket over my linen undertunic and stepped out of the tent. Zevran sat by the fire on an old crate. He looked up at my approach.
"You're up rather early," he smiled. "Always ready for more adventure, yes?"
"Not tonight," I smiled back, pulling another crate near his and sitting for a chat. "What's your excuse? I thought you would be sleeping or… something."
"I would prefer to be doing 'something,' as you call it, but it whets the appetite when the diner is made to wait, yes?" he said, referring to the way he kept Leliana interested by withholding his attentions.
I caught the amused glint in his eye and said, "You're full of shit, you know that?"
"Of course I know it," he grinned. "It's part of my irresistible charm, is it not?"
For once, I knew he was joking. True, he had an inflated idea of his allure and he made too many references to his prowess, but I'd learned to ignore them. It took some time to get past his wall of braggadocio to find his serious side. "She kicked you out, didn't she?" I guessed.
"Temporarily," he answered. "Leliana is a lovely woman, but she is more needy than the women I am accustomed to. She wants something I cannot give, and she wants to give me something I do not want."
"And that is…?"
"Love. What a foolish notion, yes? What exactly is love? How can a person distinguish love from admiration or friendship?" He glanced over at Alistair. "What of you and the other warden? Isn't it enough to enjoy each other as men and women, the way the Maker intended, without the added burden of an elusive emotion?"
"Oh, so the Maker intended people to go from one lover to the next, did He? That's the first I've heard of it."
"Who is to say He didn't intend it? Surely you don't believe yourself to be in love with Alistair."
"Maybe I do," I answered guardedly.
His cockiness vanished, and he spoke to me earnestly, even compassionately if I was reading him right. "Dear Warden, I have made my living, and stayed alive, by studying people. I see how Alistair looks at you. He has what you Fereldans call 'puppy eyes' whenever you're around." I stifled a snicker, and he went on, "You do not have puppy eyes. You are cautious, and that is wise in any relationship."
"I… I care for Alistair very much," I faltered.
"I have no doubt of it, but you do not feel the same for him that he feels for you."
His comment bothered me. I didn't want to examine my feelings for Alistair. What we had was (and I keep using this word) comfortable, and as long as he didn't expect too much too soon from me, our relationship was a good one. It was time to change the subject. "Tell me about Antiva," I requested.
Zev's tone took on a hint of melancholy. "Antiva is a beautiful country, not brown and dirty and cold like Ferelden. Tell me, did you find it so when you came from Starkhaven?"
"Truthfully, I didn't pay much attention to the land when I arrived. I was in Highever, and it was green and pleasant. The plains are somewhat bland, though."
"Maybe that is why they are called 'plains'?" he proffered. "I jest, and I confess it was a weak one." It wasn't his joke, but his realization that it was a lame one that made it funny. Our laughter drew some sharp looks. One from Alistair, who clearly didn't approve of me talking to Zev. Another was from Leliana, who poked her head out of her tent, saw us talking together and, giving an exaggerated huff, retreated back inside. Zev paid her no attention. Neither did I. Wynne peeked out of her tent, too, and drew back with a disapproving scowl. I'd just about forgotten she was in our camp.
"They must think us quite a handsome couple if so many of our companions wish to admire us," Zev joked, and this time I cackled out loud, having to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound lest I woke everyone else up. His expression softened and he said, "I don't believe I have seen you laugh before. It's a shame for such a lovely woman to be so serious. And before you get that suspicious look, it is merely a compliment, not an attempt to bed you. Unless you think I have a chance…" he ended with a wink, letting me know it wasn't a serious proposition.
"No chance at all," I said, stating my stance but without indignation. "You were going to tell me about Antiva?" He entertained me with tales and descriptions of his country for an hour. He was homesick, and I felt sorry for him. I didn't miss Starkhaven but I'd left it under duress after false imprisonment; he'd left Antiva willingly, to do a contract. My contract, specifically.
"You do not wish to speak of your home, and I will respect your wishes. If I may ask, however, how did you learn your fighting skills? Were you in the military or the guard?"
"No, but my father was in both," I answered. "He taught me with wooden swords from my youth, and when I got older, I graduated to real swords, daggers, and bows. I favor the longsword, as you've seen."
"And you wield them with painful precision," he said, wincing and rubbing an imaginary wound on his shoulder. "He must have been quite the warrior, your father."
"He was," I replied quietly.
Zevran, who dealt in death, offered no sympathy for my loss. He didn't understand loss as most people did, and as far as I knew, had never mourned for anyone. He also avoided romantic entanglements, keeping his relationships on a superficial level. In a way, I envied his capacity to remain detached. Friendship was sufficient, and he valued loyalty, but love? He had no use for it.
"You know Zev, I just remembered a couple of things I found in our travels that I've been meaning to give to you," I said, recalling the fine Antivan leather boots and Dalish gloves. I thought he might appreciate something from his homeland, and something from the bloodline he denied. "I'll be right back."
"I can help you carry them," he offered. "Let me accompany you to your tent."
"Nice try," I said, turning back to see him smiling with one of those "I fooled you" looks. He was quite the character when one got to chat with him, I thought. I found the items and went back.
"Antivan leather!" he exclaimed when he saw the boots. They were black leather, and of very fine make. I hoped they were his size. "I meant to purchase a pair like these before I left Antiva. They are magnificent. Thank you."
"There's another thing…" I handed him the Dalish gloves.
"Gloves? Well, they will come in handy in cold weather."
"Take a closer look," I said. "Those are Dalish gloves." He recalled that he once had a pair like those that belonged to his mother—the only thing he had of hers. An orphanage worker stole them, just before they sold him to the Crows.
"Tell me about the Crows," I urged. "What was it like being a child, living among assassins?"
We talked for a couple of hours. He'd led a difficult but interesting life, and for all the problems and dangers he had faced, he wasn't angry with his abusers or bitter about his lot in life. He accepted it all, saying that none of us had trouble-free pasts.
"Take yourself, for example. You left Starkhaven but you never speak of it. By your silence, you tell me that what you left behind was too painful or unpleasant to endure." He was partly right. It was more than I could endure, but I wasn't given a choice whether to stay or leave.
"I prefer to leave the past behind me and look ahead," I said. "One can't go back and change what has happened, but we can choose where we go from there."
"Some of us can," he reminded me. "I am still your prisoner."
"Zev, I won't hold you to your oath if you want to go. Our path is going to take us into a war that isn't your war, and you should have the choice to go to safety."
"Magnanimous and gorgeous," he observed. "You are rare, my dear warden. Now that I am free to choose, I choose to stay. It is preferable to die for a worthy cause than to run like a coward, yes?"
"Yes," I agreed, glad to have him along. At last we had reached a level of trust and friendship. I smiled impishly. "As confirmation of your new status as a full-fledged member, I'll put you on watch rotation." I stood, hoping to try to get a few hours' sleep before we headed for Redcliffe and Orzammar.
"I am yours to command," he said, rising like a gentleman in a lady's presence.
"There is hope for you yet, my little assassin," I remarked. "And if you want to come along to Orzammar, I'd advise you to use your night off from 'something'-ing to get some sleep. I'll need you at your best. We don't know what we'll find there. Or along the way."
"Winter," he halted me before I could return to my tent. "I'm glad you came out and talked with me. I've enjoyed getting to know you a little better. Alistair is a lucky man to have such a wise partner."
"Partner," I repeated, turning the word over in my mind. "I prefer 'companion'. It sounds less… confining."
"Ah, there is nothing more attractive than a beautiful, independent woman," he sighed. "Except, perhaps, a beautiful, independent woman who is also promiscuous."
"Good night, Zevran," I said, dismissing his comment as I would a child's unintended rudeness. I wasn't angry, but I wouldn't encourage his attentions either.