Chapter 4 : Their Worst Fears
The castle was quiet when Alistair returned. As he wandered through the halls his mind raced along a single track; a ceaseless stream of horrific images–what the Q'unari would do with Lyssa once they reached Seheron. He went down to the training hall. His knights often lingered there. When he arrived, he found the Grand Cleric was there. She was in the middle of blessing a group of the knights. Alistair waited as patiently as he could, given the circumstances. He watched as the Grand Cleric finished her blessings before stepping forward to address his knights.
The Grand Cleric saw him approach and her eyes widened.
"Your majesty? I thought you had left to see your son. Did you change your mind?" the old woman asked, surprised.
"No, I just need to do a few things first. Now, if you will excuse me your grace," Alistair said curtly.
He wasn't trying to be rude, but he felt an urgency that would not abate. The Grand Cleric nodded and turned to leave. Alistair approached Ser Willem who smiled at the king as he came near.
"You have not left yet, your majesty? Too much ale at the tournament?" Ser Willem asked chuckling.
Alistair smiled weakly and shook his head, "No, I wish I had time for pleasantries, but something important has come up. I need you to gather the knights and tell them to meet me down at the docks. Do not tell anybody what you are doing. This is a mission of utmost importance."
Ser Willem's mouth set in a flat line at the tone in Alistair's voice, "What is it my King? Has something gone wrong with the trip? Is the Queen... is the Queen okay?"
The young knight's face went ashen. Alistair tried to muster up the ability to calm the knight, but found he didn't have it in him. Alistair decided to ignore the question instead.
"Please, just... get the knights. I shall join you at the docks shortly."
Ser Willem bowed. He turned and called to his men. Alistair went back into the castle. Gildre was waiting near the entrance to the training hall, a pained look on his face. Alistair put his hand on Gildre's shoulder and began to lead him upstairs.
"I need you to do something very important, Gildre," Alistair said as they climbed the stairs toward the royal chambers.
"Of course, Alistair. Anything," Gildre said wringing his hands.
"You need to leave for Seheron now. You need to track the Q'unari. Find them and mingle among the Seheron. There are many elvish followers of the Qun; you will not stand out. You have studied them I take it, the Q'unari I mean?" Alistair asked as they entered his bedchamber.
"Yes, of course," Gildre said.
"Good," Alistair said patting him on the back. "Keep an eye on her... and if it comes down to it..."
Alistair knew what he wanted to ask of his young steward, but found he could not actually say the words. It was one thing to know your men were sworn to protect your life even at the cost of their own, it was quite another to outright ask them to do so.
"You have never needed to ask, Alistair. You only needed to tell me your plan. My life is yours, and Lyssa's. Ever has it been so," Gildre said with sincerity.
Alistair, overcome with emotion, pulled Gildre to him and embraced him. He held Gildre's head against his shoulder and let tears fall from his eyes into the young elf's dark hair.
"Gildre," Alistair said, unable to say anything more.
Gildre hesitantly put his arms around his friend. He never had been embraced by Alistair in his bed chamber before. Gildre was afraid he might get aroused at such a gesture, but Alistair's anguish, and his own distress over Lyssa's abduction, had killed any romantic feelings that might have stirred in him. Gildre felt the loss of Lyssa intensely, but he maintained a stoic façade for the sake of the King.
"I will find her, I swear it. If I have to stand before the blade that is meant to strike her down, I shall do it. Alistair," Gildre said pushing Alistair back and looking up into his anguished face. "Have hope. Remember, she is a Grey Warden. She is a soldier. She is a commander of men. Remember that in truth, she is all these things before she is Queen. I don't think the Q'unari realize they have loosed a dragon in their home."
Alistair smiled weakly and nodded.
"And you," Gildre continued, "be careful. There is only one reason the queen was caught unawares. She was set up. The Q'unari knew exactly where and when to strike. There is a traitor in the castle, maybe more than one. Watch your back," Gildre said.
Alistair's mouth went thin. His brow furrowed and his eyes turned cold, his anguish and fear overtaken by his anger. He turned, storming to the nearby window, and stared at the courtyard below. Nobles mingled about as servants scurried between them. Alistair gripped the stonework as he watched.
"Yes. That I do know well. Do not tell anyone where you are going. There are few who I trust, and many I suspect. But now is not the time for searching out conspirators," Alistair said with a menacing tone in his voice.
Alistair turned and walked over to a set of drawers. He opened the top one and the highly polished hilts of the two daggers there glinted even in the dim light of the room. He lifted one out of its sheath and let his fingertips trail the length of the blade. He didn't feel the cut, but when he pulled his finger away a well of blood was already forming.
He smiled as he sheathed the blade. Lyssa kept them as sharp as ever. He lifted the scabbards out of the drawer and touched the leather armor underneath. Alistair turned to Gildre and handed him the blades.
"She will need these when you find her. I would give you her armor... but it is bulky, and you will need to be swift. Take care Gildre, I'd rather not lose either of you," Alistair said.
Gildre smiled and took Alistair's hand in his, "We'll see you soon."
Gildre turned and left the room at a jog. Alistair went to the bed and sat on it. He reached into his tunic and took out a threadbare cloth that had spent the last fourteen years close to his heart. The blue threads that spelled out Lyssa's name had long ago lost their color. It had been many years since the cloth had lost the scent of Highever. Alistair sometimes wondered why he kept the thing. He had so many mementos that Lyssa had given him over the years. Yet every morning he carefully took the cloth out of its hiding place—between the mattresses—and put it against his skin. For some reason this small cloth was the dearest possession he had.
Alistair vividly remembered when he had asked Lyssa for it, the morning after they had first made love. He recalled the feeling of swimming in the still lake. It had been long since he had felt so at peace. Alistair put the cloth back in his tunic. He walked to the window and stared out at the courtyard again, this time looking over the roof of the castle to the city beyond.
He knew the people weren't all bad, but the years as king had made him cynical. He remembered wishing he had run away with Lyssa that night; the night she asked him if perhaps a consort was something they should consider. The idea had angered him, and he had lashed out at Lyssa. He hadn't meant to. He was angry at himself. He was angry that somehow, despite all he had done, he was once again being asked to sacrifice for his kingdom, only this time it was his son's life he was giving. He wanted to take Lyssa and Duncan and leave all the rest behind.
But instead he gave in. He had allowed the council of nobles to back him into a corner, and now one of those nobles had betrayed him. Alistair was sure of it. It was the nobles and the generals that came up with the specifics of the schedule to visit Duncan. Alistair began to suspect the letter he had been given, prompting him to plan the visit. At the time, he was elated that Duncan seemed to need him for once. But looking back now, Alistair realized that was uncharacteristic of Duncan. Alistair cursed himself for being so foolish, for letting his desire to be a good father blind him to the truth.
Alistair searched through his small desk and pulled out the letter. He had kept it for sentimental reasons. He carefully read the letter again, paying close attention to every word. Whoever had done this had known Duncan well. They must have been intimately familiar with Duncan's script and they must have spoken with him at length. The phrasing, the tone, it was all Duncan up until the last part. Alistair quickly scanned the letter to find the closing paragraph.
I am frightened father. I do not know if it is you who reads my letters, or someone else from the castle. I know I should not be so childish, but I cannot get over the feeling that the people around me are lying to me. That you and mother are dead, and they are going to hide me here until I am old enough to become king. I wish only to see you both. If I could just have this one thing, then perhaps I could sleep at night.
I love you both,
Duncan
Alistair crumpled the letter in his fist. Whoever wrote it also knew Alistair well. They knew Alistair wanted nothing more than to be a loving husband and father. They had manipulated Alistair's need to be fatherly to his eccentric son. Alistair tossed the letter into the fireplace and watched it burn. The anger in him grew.
Lyssa knew something was wrong, he thought, and I ignored her. I ignored her because I wanted the letter to be true.
"Damnation!" Alistair cursed.
He turned from the fire and began to dress himself in his armor.
**
Connor stepped off the ferry. He took a few quick steps to clear the thin marsh-like strip that rung the island. It had been some time since he had been here. The Circle Tower loomed like an ancient sentinel in the middle of Lake Calenhad. Connor scanned the tower slowly, from its broad base to the parapets high above. He felt a little like he was returning home. He had felt safe at the Circle Tower when he was younger, but that safety had a price. When it was discovered he was a mage, Connor had been taken from his family. His mother had been devastated. Connor was at first mistrustful of the Circle Tower and all it represented for him; a new life, whether he wanted it or not. But after he had been at the tower for only a few days, he realized that the mages there wanted to help him. They all had dealt with similar shocking revelations of their abilities. After he had been at the tower for a while, he even found that the dreams of demons that had been plaguing him finally began to subside.
Connor walked up to the large door and went inside. First Enchanter Irving stood just beyond, in the grand entrance. He greeted Connor warmly.
"It has been too long," he said embracing Connor. "But... where is everyone else?"
Connor cast his eyes downward. He was unable to meet Irving's gaze.
"What has happened?" Irving asked more urgently.
"I know the King and Queen trust you well, First Enchanter, so I say this with the understanding that it will remain between us. The Queen has been taken by the Q'unari. They are threatening to kill her unless Ferelden converts to the Qun. Alistair is planning to lead a small army to find her, since there is no way Ferelden will capitulate," Connor said.
Irving's eyes grew wide.
"How did this happen?" he asked, bewildered.
"I don't know. I looked over the plans for our visit myself. They looked fine. It made sense even. But now I begin to suspect that everything from the assassination attempt to this abduction was part of the same plan. I don't know what to think," Connor said.
Irving leaned wearily against the wall.
"I grow old, Connor. I would like to join Alistair to search for Lyssa, but I am afraid I do not have the strength anymore. It was my hope that you would take over as First Enchanter… eventually. But I had hoped that would still be years away," Irving's looked thoughtfully at Connor. After a moment's pause, he continued "I shall give you all the resources you need. Take as many mages as you think is safe. Some must remain to guard Duncan, in case the plot against the King and Queen has yet to fully manifest," Irving said. He wearily rubbed his eyes. He felt the years drag on him.
"Thank you, Irving. But I must see Duncan first. I am to check on him for Alistair," Connor said.
"You do not plan to tell him of this?" Irving asked shocked.
"Alistair does not wish it. But the boy… knows things. He has been trained well by his mother. He is better at reading people than anyone I know. I will try not to let him know. But I must see him for Alistair's sake. Alistair has enough to worry about right now, and it will help put his mind at ease," Connor said.
"He is in the Harrowing Chamber," Irving said. "It is where he spends most of his time, gazing out that telescope Wynne enchanted for him ages ago." Irving grasped Connor's wrist. "I will gather some supplies for you. Let me know when you are ready to leave."
"Thank you Irving. I know I can't really speak for the King, but I am sure he would be most grateful," Connor said.
"Lyssa and Alistair saved my life. They saved the Circle itself. And Alistair freed us from the oversight of the templars. There is nothing I wouldn't do for them," Irving said.
Connor smiled, "You aren't the only one that woman saved. I know well what my fate would have been had she chosen otherwise when I was young. I must go. I need to hurry back to Denerim as soon as I can."
Irving nodded. He released the young man's arm. He watched Connor dart off toward the stairs. He shook his head and sighed sadly as he started off to gather up as many mages as he could.
Connor raced to the top of the tower. He was out of breath when he reached the Harrowing Chamber. Duncan was standing at a window, his eye pressed to a telescope that pointed east toward Denerim. Connor approached the young prince quietly so as not to disturb him.
The young boy shared his parent's fair hair. Aside from his eyes, he was the spitting image of Alistair. Wynne had once remarked that he would be quite a handsome young man when he was fully grown. He was quite tall for a twelve year old boy. As Connor approached, Duncan turned, his deep blue eyes settling on Connor. Connor found himself feeling uneasy under that gaze.
"I saw you coming," Duncan said his voice still pitched in the range of youth, but the words spoken with such calm, smooth assurance.
"Yes? Well, Wynne really worked hard on that telescope for you. I think she thought you might look at the night sky with it though, not the roads," Connor said attempting to sound casual.
"At times, I do gaze upon the celestial bodies. They are indeed most enigmatic. But at the moment, I find the terrestrial more interesting. Here, look," Duncan said motioning Connor to look into the scope.
Connor smiled and bent down to look into the eyepiece to placate the young man, expecting to see a pretty girl or something similar. Connor was surprised to see a clear view of the Imperial Highway. What was more surprising was there were about a hundred templars riding down it, headed in the direction of the Circle tower.
"They are about twelve hours away if they keep riding through the night. They must have been sent very recently," Duncan said close to Connor's ear.
Connor jumped at the sound and turned to look at Duncan. He was looking at Connor appraisingly.
"What?" Connor asked confused.
"I saw my mother on the road yesterday. Then I saw Q'unari. Then I saw my father. Why were they coming here? Surely they would not risk their lives so foolishly to meet me for something as insignificant as a birthday? This day can be celebrated at any time. It matters not that it happen now," Duncan said frowning.
"I... you did not write the letter then," Connor said as things began to click into place.
"Ah," Duncan said, "So mother was right. The assassination attempt was just the beginning. Tell me what you know. I need more information."
Connor stared down at Duncan. He looked so young, Connor found it unnerving, Duncan's calm response and cool analysis of the situation. Duncan was looking out the window at the countryside below. Connor tried to think of Duncan as a young boy, as he would any adolescent, to gauge how he should interact with the boy, but it was difficult at times. A few years ago, Connor had been tasked to watch Duncan, looking for signs of magic. Alistair wondered if Duncan had somehow managed to access the fade and use a spirit to gain strength of mind. But Connor had found no such evidence. Duncan was certainly no mage, but he was something different, maybe even unique. No one knew exactly what it meant to be born a Grey Warden.
"The Q'unari kidnapped your mother. They gravely wounded my father so that we would find him. They gave him a message. They said they would kill the queen unless all of Ferelden converted to the Qun. They said if we refused, they would not only kill the queen, but invade and force us to submit. Sten believes they have taken your mother to Seheron. Alistair plans to go there with a small force. He knows well that the council will never agree to the terms of surrender," Connor said. He began to feel less odd about talking about such things with the small boy as he went on.
"I am to gather as many mages as I can and try to meet your father at the docks in Denerim," Connor finished.
Duncan continued staring out the window a while before he spoke.
"So a plot against the King and Queen has been set in motion. And now the Templars ride to the Circle Tower. Most interesting. Someone at the castle has been busy," Duncan said, turning to Connor.
"Yes. Clearly there is a traitor, or traitors at work here," Connor said.
"Yes. I think it is time." Duncan became silent.
Connor saw a flash of realization cross Duncan's face. He waited for Duncan to speak, but Duncan did not share his thoughts. Instead he turned, and began to take apart his telescope. He began packing the pieces of the telescope into a case.
"Will you tell Irving that it is time to go? It is not safe for him here anymore," Duncan said, putting the last few pieces of the telescope carefully away.
Connor furrowed his brow, "The tower is in the middle of a lake. It is why we chose the location for you. It is easily defended."
"This is true. The circle tower is easily defended against most anything. Templars are the exception. My guess is they have been given the Right of Annulment. They have probably been told the tower has been overrun again. They would believe it easily enough. The Chantry believes one of my father's gravest mistakes was to revoke their authority over the mages. And now, roughly a hundred Templars make their way here. I suggest when you return to my father with all the mages, you avoid the Highway. The templars will likely kill any mages on sight out of fear," Duncan said standing.
Connor looked out the window then back at Duncan.
"Where will you go?" Connor asked, puzzled.
"I will go to the only safe place remaining in Ferelden. I will go to the dwarves. Irving will accompany me. We will request that the King close the gates to Orzammar to outsiders. It will be done. Tell my father I am there and I am safe. Tell my father, that I love him... and that he should trust his instincts. They are better than he thinks," Duncan said. Then he looked down at his feet awkwardly, "Tell him not to blame himself for mother. It is not a crime to love his son. It is not wrong to want to be a good father. He is a good father, and always has been. It is I who have not been the easiest of sons to deal with. I am the obstacle. I will make it up to him."
Duncan looked back up at Connor. He was surprised to see Duncan's eyes were glistening, just on the verge of tearing. Duncan turned hastily away as he headed toward the stairs.
"Duncan, wait!" Connor said hastily, shifting the sack at his back.
With the shift the young Mabari pup inside woke and began whining.
"Sten wanted me to give this to you. It is a birthday gift," Connor said, pulling the pup from the sack and handing it to the boy.
Connor watched as Duncan's eyes lit up. For a moment, he wished very much that Alistair could have been here to see this. Connor had never seen Duncan look so much like a child as he did now, holding the small dog close enough to lick his face. The puppy barked; its little nub of a tail wagging excitedly.
"Thank you," Duncan said smiling. "I shall call her Wynne, after our dear friend."
"I think your mother will like that," Connor said, forgetting for a moment that Lyssa might very well be dead.
"Yes," Duncan said softly holding the small Mabari to his chest, "I think she would. I... I would be deeply hurt if she should not return to us. Please, take care of father."
Connor nodded to the young boy and they both headed off down the stairs.
Duncan stopped suddenly and looked up at Connor, "Connor, some advice. Do not go to Denerim. I do not think it will be safe for you, or any Circle mages. I think you should head to Amaranthine instead."
"Okay, I will do that," Connor said, "But what of Alistair? He will need my help...,"
"He will not be able to launch any ships from Denerim. I suspect he will head to the only people he trusts. Grey Wardens hold no allegiance to anyone, save the peoples of Thedas. They have no involvement in this plot, of that I am sure."
Connor looked down at the young boy unsure of how to react. Part of him was curious how Duncan knew all of this, and part of him was a little afraid. But he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Connor was no great war strategist, and Duncan had been trained by the brightest minds Ferelden had at their disposal. He turned and they headed back down the stairs to prepare to leave.
When the Templars arrived late that night, they found the Circle Tower empty. The worst of their fears realized, they raced back to Denerim to prepare. Their apprehension mounted as they travelled; visions of an attack against Denerim the likes of which they had only seen in their worst nightmares plaguing them.