They were miles down the West Road toward Lothering at a hard gallop before Cullen signaled them to reign in and trot. The guardsmen rode three ahead and three behind, with Cullen and Eleanor in the middle, and so far they had met no one, though the day was still new.
It was a long while later before Eleanor relaxed her grip on the reigns and allowed herself to think. She realized with surprise that she rode her grey mare Ana, and silently thanked the Maker for the old groomsman in the stable who must have had her saddled on purpose with the other horses. She twisted slightly in the saddle and inspected the travel bags that buckled on either side of Ana's withers. One bulged with apples and crusty loaves of white bread. The other contained a heavy travel cloak, extra boots, and various changes of clothing.
She settled back into the rhythm of her horse's familiar gait, and focused on the road ahead. They were just beginning to ride out of the hills that surrounded Denerim into the wide expanse of farmlands that made up most of the country. There would be wheat, hops, and corn growing, almost ripe for harvest. The wheat she especially liked, because it looked like golden waves in the sun when the wind blew.
They passed a few homesteads and many fields near the road. Occasionally, a merchant and his wagon would be forced aside by the guards riding three abreast, but none complained loud enough for the guards behind to hear. Mostly they gawked at the procession, recognizing Cullen from the armor he wore more than, it seemed, their princess.
As night fell, they camped near the north fork of the Drakon River. The guards kept apart from Cullen and Eleanor, addressing them formally, and after the meal was done, they retired a bit away from the fire to play a game of Old Man's Bones with a set of hand-carved runes. Eleanor was throwing an old blanket over Ana's back when she heard Cullen step up behind her.
"Princess."
"There's no need to call me that here," she answered. "Besides, you've known me since I was a babe. If circumstances were different, I might be calling you 'Uncle Cullen' instead of Warden."
Cullen frowned slightly at her light words, but then seemed to decide to ignore them. "I recall seeing you shoot at last year's spring festival, so I know your skill with the bow. I need to know how you can handle those," he jerked his chin at the daggers she still wore on her belt. "There may be fighting, and in case you cannot use your bow…"
She nodded and followed him to a flat grassy place slightly away from the camp. He paused, turned to face her, and drew out his sword and shield. The guards stopped their chatter at the sound of steel and turned to watch. Eleanor drew out her daggers and sank into a slight crouch.
Cullen began circling to her left. She watched him closely. Duncan also fought with a sword and shield, but he used it lightly and moved as quickly as she did, often dropping his guard altogether to close in with the sword. Cullen held his shield, emblazoned with a Warden's griffon, firmly in front of him and paced solidly with his sword up and ready.
With her limbs loose, Eleanor made several feints at Cullen's guard. Each was met only with a slight movement of his shield and a flick of his eyes. There would be no baiting him, she saw. Abandoning the jouncey movements of feints and counter feints, she darted to his right and kept low to the ground, trying to flank him on his shield side. Though she thought she moved quickly, he grunted and pushed the shield out to intercept her path as she passed, knocking her aside. She stumbled but kept her feet, retreating.
"Good," he said, resuming his stance, "that may work on those with less practice with a shield than I. Be ready." With that, he began to move toward her, retracting his shield slightly to bring his sword arm forward.
She dodged most of his attacks easily and suspected he was not moving as fast as he would against a real opponent. One close blow she deflected on the edge of her dagger, twisting her body out of the way at the last moment. As they sparred, Eleanor began to notice a pattern to his movements—how he dropped his right shoulder before a thrust from below, the set of his left foot on a sidestroke. She waited, attacking from high on his right with a dagger, and when he raised his shield and dropped his sword to block, stepped in. Before he realized it, she was inside his guard, close enough for him to see the beads of sweat that stood out on her face from the exertion. The dagger in her left hand was struck away with the edge of his shield, but by then, too close to reach with his sword, she held the remaining dagger at the gap in his armor by his throat.
"Do you yield, Ser?" she asked, her breathing quick but not exhausted, not panting.
"Yes," he said, and she stepped back. He sheathed his sword and regarded her. The guards sent up a little cheer which was quickly banished with a quick glare from Cullen. They turned back to their game reluctantly.
"You did well, Pri—Eleanor," he continued, "but you must remember…" And he lectured her for some time about the dangers of getting too close to an enemy who may have hidden weapons. He ended with a little praise. "You did well, not falling when I rapped you with my shield. And your feints were good. I do not need to worry about you falling to the first barbarian with an axe that finds you without your bow."
And with that, they went to sleep, and were up early the next day to resume their journey south to the Grey Warden's fortress.
Over the noise of hooves and jingling tack, Cullen asked her what she knew of the Chasind.
"As much as anyone, I suppose," replied Eleanor. "They were indigenous people that lived here until the war with our ancestors. They went south into the Wilds and the Avvar went into the mountains. They are generally peaceful and keep to themselves, sometimes coming as far north as Lothering to trade."
Cullen nodded. "The Blight was devastated most of the Wilds and, we assumed, the Chasind. We didn't know how many fled north." He shifted in his saddle. "The swamp is resilient, the Chasind apparently more so."
"Have we never known how many live in the Wilds?"
"It's not as if a King's Census could be performed there. It's a dangerous place, and deceiving to those not used to navigating it. The Chasind have adapted to live there, and know things about it we might never discover."
Eleanor was silent for a few moments. "Why do they attack us, after all this time?"
"That... I do not know. It is what we must discover, what I hope to discover with your help and a peaceful parlay."
They fell silent, and Eleanor was lost in thought for a long while.
The next several days of travel passed without incident. On the fifth day after leaving Denerim, south of Lothering, they came upon a column of men marching south along the Imperial Highway. They were armed and armored, and carried shields bearing the mark of a tower upon a red hill.
"Those are knights of Redcliffe," Cullen said, spurring his horse forward. A man detached from the mass and hailed them.
"It's Bann Colm!" Eleanor recognized him at once. Colm Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere, was the son of Arl Teagan of Redcliffe.
"Warden, my lady." Colm bowed to both of them. "We received a messenger of the Wardens almost a week ago, and my father sends men to help reinforce at Ostagar, if need be." He straightened and regarded Eleanor with his frank blue gaze, but said nothing further.
"Thank you and your family for your aid, Bann Colm," Cullen said. "We shall ride on and meet you later at the fortress." He nodded to the man, who rejoined his soldiers on the march, and they continued on past the column.
The sun was sinking westerly over the Frostback Mountains when they saw smoke rising from a distant point above the road.
"Ostagar lies ahead." Cullen's face was grim, and Eleanor took a deep breath before nudging Ana to continue. They would arrive at the site of the battle tomorrow.