Author's Note: Hey, everybody! Okay, so I want to apologize in advance for how horribly long this chapter is. I was writing it, and it didn't seem like it would be that long…and then I had to add another detail…and another…it ended up being super long and frustrating, and I'm not sure whether to be ecstatic it's so long or freaked out. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it, and I promise that next chapter will have more action, and more cameos! YAY! And please, don't be afraid to review! I kinda wrote this one fast, so I'm not sure if there are any major mistakes...or out-of-character moments...yeah...
Act IX: Imperial Highway to Redcliffe
The trek along the Imperial Highway was long and boring. All the refugees had fled long before. Revan shaded her eyes and looked up at the bright sky. Nothing. Not a whisper of wind. It was as if the land itself was holding its breath in anticipation. Revan wished desperately for a pair of polarized lenses. And maybe a personal cooling unit. Despite it being early fall, she was burning up, especially since she had to walk in the thick leathers that Flemeth had given her. And she also wished for some of the dehydrated, tasteless cubes the military used to serve. What were they called? Revan couldn't recall their name. The sun had evaporated her memories as well as her water supply.
Very quickly, she bored of looking at the cloudless sky. She dropped back to where Alistair was moping. At first, he didn't notice her presence, so absorbed was he in his thoughts. When he did finally look up though, he jumped in surprise, looking much like a startled cat. Revan heard Morrigan snicker softly behind them.
"Revan! What—"
"So tell me, Alistair, what happens when we reach Redcliffe?"
The youth gave her a puzzled look. "What do you mean?"
She cocked her head to the side, and again asked, "What will happen, do you think?"
"What else? We'll see Arl Eamon and hope he believes us," he answered simply.
Revan shook her head and muttered, "Tsk tsk tsk. Don't you remember? Arl Eamon is sick. He probably won't be able to see us."
"Thanks for reminding me," Alistair grimaced.
"So? What then?"
"Well…" Alistair scratched his head, "I guess we could try talking to his steward. Or maybe to his brother, Bann Teagan, if he's around."
"And this Bann Teagan? How will you make him believe us?"
Alistair squinted in bemusement. "I don't think I understand the context of the question. Could you please restate it so my simpleton mind can understand?"
Revan glanced heavenward. Alistair was being impossible.
"Alright! Alright!" Alistair responded upon seeing her distressed face. "Uh…let's see here…we make him?"
Revan lightly slapped her own forehead in exasperation. "And how would you do that?"
He shrugged. They walked for a moment more in silence as Revan tried to figure out a way to make him think.
"Okay," she began, "think about it like this. Arl Eamon wants to trust you, but all the intelligence he has received points to us having betrayed the king. How would you disprove this?"
Alistair bowed his head in thought. "I…" He thought some more. "I guess I would try and convince him to believe me, since, after all, he did help raise me. And he wouldn't believe that I could kill my—" he stopped abruptly, realizing what he was about to say.
"Your brother," Revan finished for him, "Cailan."
He stared at her in shock. How could he know that she knew his most personal secrets because of Duncan? Because of him, she probably knew more about Alistair's past than he did.
"Well, I suppose that might be the best way to go about convincing him, considering that we have no proof to the contrary," Revan continued, blatantly ignoring the unanswered question of how she knew his heritage. "But how would you go about convincing a noble who you have never met?"
"Why do you even care?" he asked in frustration. "You'd be better off asking Rose these questions."
Revan pursed her lips. "Because I would like to hear your thoughts."
Slowly, painfully, she managed to coax an answer out of him. It wasn't the best answer, Revan had to admit, but at least it was a start. She then carefully laid out a suggestion, and, though he knew she was leading him, he figured out what the best answer was. Then she asked another question. Thus, the cycle began again as she tried to engage his brain in politics. He was not an easy pupil, as he often got lazy and gave her stupid answers instead of thinking out the solution. But he was bright.
Finally, after an hour or so of theoreticals, he threw his hands up in the air in maddened surrender. "I give up!" he cried. "Why are you asking me these impossible questions? I don't know!"
"She is training you," the deep voice of the big Qunari spoke from behind them. Alistair jumped in surprise: for being so big, Sten was quite stealthy. "She knows you do not know. That is why she is giving you hints to the correct answers."
Revan nodded her head in appreciation of the Qunari's observation. Alistair gave him yet another bewildered expression before turning back to Revan.
"You're training me?" he accused her. "Why in the name of Andraste would you do that?"
She smiled coyly before replying, "Because…"
His eyes widened as he realized what she was implying, but, even as he was about to respond, he changed his mind. She could tell he didn't want to talk about it. At all. He was probably tired of being treated differently because of his heritage. Revan had experienced something quite similar, being Revan, enemy and hero of the Republic.
"Maybe she is tired of being around an idiot," Sten responded, his tone serious.
Alistair flashed a smile; he felt more comfortable being insulted than thinking he had actual worth. "Yes, that seems like more of a logical answer. But, Revan, I thought you said you weren't good at politics."
"I am good at politics," she clarified, "but in the past, I was not as…wise as I am now."
He nodded slowly in understanding. "Well, enough of politics," Revan continued cheerfully, "let's move on to military theory!"
Alistair groaned in exasperation, but consented anyway. Sten stayed a step behind them, listening in on their conversation but only commenting every hour or so. Revan didn't mind; in fact, she found that she rather enjoyed teaching. A part of her wished that she had remained in the Jedi Order so that she could have become a Master and then taken on a few apprentices, but Alistair and Sten would have to do in the meantime. She continued teaching until the sun began to set, at which point Rose stopped them and chose a spot to set up camp. There was a clear pond nearby, and a flat area ringed by trees where they could lay out their bedrolls and pitch the few tents they had. Revan tried to help, but she wasn't used to such crude shelters and often ended up getting in the way more than she helped. So, she sat back and watched, learning, after she had started a roaring blaze for warmth and to cook over. She didn't fear someone seeing the smoke; her second sight would alert her if anyone snuck up on them.
And while no one snuck up on them, several people passed through the area and sought to talk with Rose. First was an ill-spoken merchant who claimed that Duncan had promised to help him clean his family's name, who Rose told they would help as soon as time allotted. Then were two dwarves. Rose recognized them from Lothering; she had helped them fight off some darkspawn that had attacked them. The older one introduced himself as Bodahn Feddic, and the younger, bleary-eyed dwarf as Sandal, his foster son. Apparently, Sandal was some type of savant: he was one of the few people in Thedas who could enchant items without being Tranquil. Bodahn asked if they, as travelling merchants, could travel with their little party. And, of course, Rose accepted. She was not one to turn down any help, and both Rose and Revan knew the value of merchants. As Rose looked through his wares, the Jedi approached the two curiously. She had not seen the dwarves since her time in the Deep Roads all those years ago, and even then she had not spoken with them.
Bodahn seemed willing enough to talk about his past. Apparently, he had once been a merchant in the magnificent dwarven city of Orzammar. But, he had gotten most of his wares from the rubble in the Deep Roads, and one day, a noble lady found her something of her brother's in his wares and accused him of murder and theft. So, he fled to the surface, continuing his business of "recycling." Sandal he had found in the Deep Roads as a babe. The dwarf theorized that he might be lyrium-addled, but Revan didn't think so. Something about the way Sandal looked at her made her think it was something more than just lyrium. She and Bodahn got along well, especially since she had no qualms about where he had gotten his merchandise. To her, it was better to find and take something then let it rust in the dark, or fall into the hands of the darkspawn, who definitely had no preference where their equipment came from. She told the merchant that, and he smiled.
"See, that's what I've tried to tell everyone else, but none of them seem to understand," he said enthusiastically as Rose threw Revan an accusatory look. Apparently, she found the source of the goods a bit disturbing, but she didn't comment.
As Rose bartered with Bodahn over the price of some poultices, Revan greeted Sandal. The young dwarf looked at her quizzically, and Revan could tell he was no idiot. He was analyzing her, and beyond her. Her soul, maybe? His gaze sent shivers up her spine.
After a minute of looking at her with his big eyes, Sandal spoke. "You're a pretty dragon."
Her entire body went cold as Revan dropped to her knees so that she could look him in the eyes. Her voice shook as she asked, "And why do you say that?"
"Do you see the clouds and shadows where you fly?" he asked cryptically.
Revan stared as she processed his words, but she did not know of what he spoke. "I…I'm not sure."
He nodded slowly, and then a big smile broke out upon his face. "Enchantment?"
Revan smiled kindly but declined. She rose, dusted off her greaves, and walked away as calmly as she could manage. The conversation had left her…unsettled.
As she sat by the fire and warmed her hands by the fire, her mind running the strange conversation over and over in her mind, Morrigan looked up from her seat next to her. She held a skewer with a large, golden rat sizzling from the fire in one hand. Revan could feel her cat-like eyes scrutinizing her.
"You seem…disturbed," Morrigan commented.
"You try talking to that dwarf," Revan gestured behind her to where Sandal and Bodahn were setting up camp, "and see if you aren't unsettled by the end of it."
"The merchant?" the witch wondered. "But he is so—"
"No, his son," she corrected the girl. "He's…different."
Morrigan looked toward the fire and then took a bite out of the rat. After a moment's hesitation, she offered the skewer to Revan, not saying a word. Revan eyed her curiously, but accepted. The rat was savory, cooked just long enough so the meat was still moist. She handed it back. The night seemed eerily silent as they sat together. Alistair was talking with Rose quietly at the edge of camp; Sten had gone looking for any food that might be nearby; Leliana was bathing in the pond out of sight. At that moment, Revan wished desperately for a Pazaak deck, if just to keep her mind busy.
Morrigan cleared her throat. "So…" she began, "where do you come from, if not Thedas? I have heard my mother mention other worlds and other lands, but she never told me about them."
Revan chewed her lip in thought. "I don't remember the world I was born on very well. I remember it was always warm, though. I was taken from there when I was very young. I barely even remember the name of the planet. And the ones after that one…I don't care to remember. The first world that I can really recall is Dantooine, where I was trained. The entire planet is pretty much one big plot of farmland: the grass in golden brown, and the trees are sparse and few, and their leaves are either brown or olive green. The planet also barely varies in elevation, and where it does, it's always a steep rock face, and rarely do you come across a hill. At least, that's how I remember it; it was bombed, its surface probably obliterated, less than a year ago. Then there was Coruscant…"
So, Revan launched into a description of every planet she had ever been to, and even some she had only heard about. She described the city planet of Coruscant, with its buildings spreading over the entire planet and reaching up miles into the sky. She told of Tatooine, with its infinite desert and krayt dragons and life where none should have existed. She spoke of Kashyyyk, where the trees grew so high you couldn't see the tops of them when you stood at the bottom. Of Manaan, with its vast blue oceans. Of the lost world they had gone to, with its stunning beaches. She told of worlds where the mushrooms and fungi grew taller than the buildings, of worlds where the seas changed from blue to pink to yellow in just a few clicks, of worlds that were hells, and worlds that were heavens. Lava pools, diamond grottos, planets made entirely out of gold and marble; a planet, Minbar, that she had only heard about, but where the cities were carved out of solid crystal, and refracted the light into a thousand different colors. As she was speaking, she noticed Rose come and joined them, enraptured with Revan's descriptions.
"The world I love the most," Revan finished, "is the simplest one. Mandalore. Part barren wasteland from all their wars, part farmland. But it has a simple beauty to it. Maybe it's the people, I'm not sure. But, when you go there, you feel this kind of…well, it's difficult to explain. You feel at peace, yet your heart pounds with the promise of adventure. You can almost feel the blood that has been spilt upon its surface, calling to you, reminding you of all the sins of the past, but all the hopes of the future. I don't know, but something about it…" Revan stared up at the stars, remembering her brief time on Mandalore. Of course, they had hated her there for her part in the war, but now, she thought they might welcome her.
They sat in silence for a while, and then Morrigan stood. She looked at Revan, her eyes softer now, almost apologetic, and opened her mouth to speak.
"I…I wanted to…" she tried to say the words, but they stuck in her throat.
Revan smiled kindly at her, knowing what the girl was about to say. "You're welcome."
She gave the Jedi a small smile, bowed her head, and walked away. Meanwhile, Rose shook her head slowly, a wistful smile upon her face.
"I wish I could sit and listen to you for hours," she told Revan.
"Maybe, when this is over, you can," she offered.
Rose looked up and smiled, just as happy as when Revan had first seen her with Alistair. It was good to see the young Warden feeling better in these gloomy times. Her sparkling demeanor made Revan smile, too. "I'd like that," she said.
Rose stood, bade Revan good night, and walked over to her bedroll to get some sleep. Revan knew she should do the same, but all the talk of space made her long desperately for her ship, the Ebon Hawk, which had been the closest thing she had ever had to a home. An odd thing to say, but the Ebon Hawk had been hers, and no one else's, after Davik had died.
As Revan stood up to leave, she noticed Sten giving Rose a sort of angry glare. Revan recalled that, when she had been helping pitch tents earlier, he and Rose had had a sort of heated argument. She approached him and sat next to him, folding her legs under her.
"You look upset," she observed.
Sten's eyes narrowed as he said sarcastically, "How could you tell?"
Revan flashed an amused smile. "I didn't know Qunari were capable of sarcasm."
Sten just grunted in response.
"So…why the angry glare?"
The big Qunari gave pause for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I told Rose that I did not understand your society. No one has a place here. Your farmers wish to be merchants. The merchants dream of being nobles, and the nobles become warriors. No one is content to be who they are. And you and Rose…women have no place as warriors, at least not in the Qun."
"The Qun?"
"The code of my people," he explained.
She nodded, trying to formulate how to respond to his chauvinistic opinions. Revan had encountered many before that did not believe a woman had the skills to lead others into battle; that was one reason why she had donned the Mandalorian mask in the first place, so that she could be anybody, and also why she had allowed her men to think she, too, was male. However, Sten's chauvinism was not hostile, merely uncomprehending. That meant that he could be convinced otherwise.
"So, what should women be instead?" she queried.
"Our women are either priests or workers," Sten explained. "Only women can be priests."
This startled Revan. Perhaps he wasn't that chauvinistic after all.
She looked down. "I guess you could say that I am both a priest and a warrior," Revan stated. "My people…we traveled from place to place, fighting evil and helping others while teaching them the ways of the good and righteous. Or, at least, that was the intent. But, the point is that my people were both, not one or the other. Both men and women fought and preached alongside each other.
"And if a woman has the soul of a warrior, why can she not follow the path it leads her on?"
Revan saw Sten's eyes go slightly wide at her question, and she knew she had hit on one of his beliefs. It had been a wild guess, but apparently, Qunari believed in souls.
"Women are not born with the souls of warriors," he said simply.
"Rose and I were," she retaliated. "How do you think we have survived so long in this Blight? Your women may not have warrior souls, but your people are different from ours."
"But women are weak; they do not have the strength to fight," Sten argued.
That was a point Revan could truly contest. Smiling, she countered, "Fighting isn't all about strength. Did I not tell you and Alistair that the best warriors are the ones that can outwit their opponents? Fighting is about balance—balance between strength, speed, and smarts. There are some women who are very strong; there are more women who are quicker and smarter than men. I agree that many women do not have the constitution to fight, or the will. But among humans, it is not terribly difficult to find women that do not mind the death and bloodshed, and have the resilience to survive many battles."
Her words seemed to stick in Sten' mind, and he stayed silent, unable to retort. She took his silence as an acceptance. Rising, she clapped him on the shoulder and strode off to find a secluded spot, perchance to sleep.
Instead, she wandered to the pond and meditated. She had discovered long ago that if she retreated deep enough within herself, she could immerse her inner self in the Force, and awaken feeling like she had slept a full eight hours. Unfortunately, it didn't work after a few weeks, since her body still needed sleep, but it was a lot better to meditate than spend a night tossing and turning from the dreams that Revan knew awaited her in the realm of sleep, the Fade. Urthemiel and the Blight were waiting for her there, and tonight, she did not want to see the horrors that lay ahead of them.
Unfortunately, Rose did. Sometime in the night, when the moon had vanished, Rose jerked awake with a cry of alarm. Revan could sense the fear in her mind through the Force. And she could feel the fading presence of Urthemiel in the girl's dreams. As Revan strode toward the campfire, where the rest were sleeping, she heard Alistair talking to her. He was saying how most Grey Wardens had bad dreams, in the beginning. Rose was breathing hard, almost sobbing, so Revan sat next to her and wrapped her arms around the girl's slim frame to comfort her. Quietly, just loud enough that Rose could hear her, she began singing an elvish lullaby. Soon, Rose calmed down and began breathing easy as Alistair looked away in uncomfortable envy. He obviously wanted to be the one to comfort her.
"Urthemiel cannot harm you here, Rose," she said in a low whisper as she unwrapped her arms.
Rose nodded, and then mouthed the words "thank you". Revan dipped her head in acknowledgement and returned to her spot by the pond. She could see Alistair behind her rising from the fire as soon as the girl was asleep to come and speak with the Jedi.
When he was a few feet behind her, Revan spoke without moving. "Yes, Alistair? What can I do for you?"
He stopped, slightly startled, before coming and sitting next to her. He crossed his legs and looked at the calm, tranquil surface of the water as it reflected the distant stars far above them. Finally, he asked, "General, how do you do it?"
Revan turned her head so she could scrutinize his face with her one good eye. "Do what?"
He plucked a blade of grass from the ground. "How do you always know what to say? You're always so calm, so wise…you're never scared."
The Jedi bowed her head and chuckled quietly. "Alistair, I'll let you in on a little secret: I'm always scared." Alistair gave her a look of disbelief, and Revan shook her head slowly. "The secret of commanding anything is to never show fear. I learned it at an early age, and now it's just become second nature. But I'm terrified, Alistair. It is very possible we could all die tomorrow, if Urthemiel finds us before we're ready to face him. It's also possible that I could turn evil again, and I doubt you or anyone here could stop me if that happened. I'm terrified of what might happen."
"Then how do you hide it?" he asked. "Since you and Rose do it, I should, too. I mean, after all, you are training me to—"
"You want to seem strong to Rose, to impress her," Revan interrupted him. "Don't lie to me, Alistair. I have seen romances such as yours in the past."
Even in the dark, it was easy to see Alistair blushing as he tried to turn away. Revan shook her head in pity.
"If you want to remain strong, you have to think only of what you must do, and of that which you need to be strong for. Say, for example, you are leading a charge of scared farmers against a vastly superior force, and the only way to win was to give your men courage, strength. What is it that keeps you going against all odds? What is it that gives you strength?"
Alistair didn't look at her. "I used to not know that," he said quietly. "But now…" Alistair looked back at the fire, back at Rose.
"That is what I thought," Revan uncurled her legs. "Look, Alistair, I know exactly what you are going through. It happened to me not long ago. And all I can tell you is that if you want to win her heart, you have to be honest with her about yourself. I wasn't honest about myself to the man I loved, even though I didn't know the truth myself, but when he found out who I was, it almost drove him away. Don't make the same mistake; tell her."
"I…it'll be hard to," Alistair commented. "I'm so used to the people who know treating me differently that I can't imagine her thinking of me the same."
Revan put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You cannot hide your past from her forever. Wait, gather your courage, and tell her when you feel the time is right. But tell her soon, or it may be too late. She deserves to know."
He nodded numbly as he absorbed her words, however distasteful they were. He had needed to hear them, though. A secret like his, that he was a king's bastard, was not one that could be kept for long. Especially since Arl Eamon had been the one to raise Alistair. At least he didn't know who his mother really was…
Or did he?
No, he couldn't; she dismissed the thought from her mind. If he had known, he would not have let her try to instruct him in the ways of a leader. If he had known, he would not risk flirting with perhaps the most powerful ally and political figure that he knew. If he had known, his entire attitude towards mages would be a lot less impersonal.
Alistair wished her good night and returned to his bedroll by the fire, leaving Revan to think. She knew enough about the politics of Thedas from reading and from her discussions with Rose and Duncan to know roughly what Loghain was planning. He would soon call a Landsmeet, a political gathering of all the nobles in Ferelden, to vote on a new king, since the line of succession was being contested. Since he had proclaimed himself regent, he would have the strongest claim to the throne. And, if he won, he would have unlimited access to Ferelden's armies and would most likely use these against the Grey Wardens and let the problem of the Blight escalate into a disaster, similar to how the Jedi counsel had acted when she and Alek, before he had renamed himself Malak, had seen the Mandalorian threat as a danger that needed dealing with, while the Council sat on their hands and preached about how there were greater forces at work. Eventually, they had been proven right, but if the Jedi Council had gotten their way a lot of innocent people would have died because of their over-caution.
Revan's eyes flashed. The similarities between her past and her present were strikingly similar. There was, of course, an immediate threat: the Blight, and by extension Loghain. If they ignored the Blight, countless innocents would die. Obviously, ignoring it was not an option. If they challenged Loghain, the consequences could be disastrous, tearing the nation apart when they should be unified. No, there had to be a way to unite their goals. They had to present a strong leader, one that even Loghain would be forced to cede to. Unfortunately, that might be a problem.
The most logical choice would be the Arl of Redcliffe himself, since he was related to Cailan. But, Arl Eamon would be seen as a noble trying to gain more power for himself and raise himself above his station. Most nobles, though they might respect Eamon, would not support his claim. They needed someone with a more legitimate claim to the throne, who could lead: Alistair. Revan had started training him, after all, to groom him in the case they needed a candidate. And it was looking increasingly like they would as Revan sat there, pondering the situation. Though young and inexperienced, Alistair did have a presence about him, and people adored his easy manner. He just needed to grow up some more.
The only problem, besides his youth and inexperience, was the fact that he was a Grey Warden. Loghain would use this fact to convince the nobility that his ascension to the throne would be, in essence, a take-over by the Grey Wardens and a new age of oppression, this time by an organization located in the distant Anderfels. But, if they could convince everyone that his being a Grey Warden meant a new respect and security in the large scope…they might have a chance.
There were, however, a few things that worried her. First was Alistair's mother. He had made it quite clear that he had no idea of her true identity. And, fortunately, the only people she could tell that knew was the mother herself and Duncan, now deceased, and maybe a few other Grey Warden officials. But, they had no reason to reveal the identity of his mother. If they did, the results would be horrible. The other was Rose. The boy's infatuation with her was quite clear, and it seemed that Rose was reciprocating those feelings. And, in better times, the match would actually be quite politically beneficial, considering that Rose was one of the two children of the now-deceased Teyrn of Highever, an old, wealthy, and powerful family, if what Revan had read about them in their personal library was correct. It would raise both of their statuses, and Rose, with her diplomatic training and charismatic charm, would make the perfect queen. Unfortunately, she, too, was a Grey Warden, and the union between the two would be seen as an even bigger threat from the independent Wardens. There was a slim chance, however, that Rose could be used to temper Alistair's inexperience and goofiness, showing the nobles that he would be assisted by a capable general and elegant stateswoman.
The real problem was: if this was like her past, what greater forces were at work?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp shake, and she opened her eye to find Sten looking down at her, the morning sun sparkling on the surface of the pool. Sten's face was inscrutable as always, but his message was clear: they were leaving, and he had not dismissed her words from the night before. She gave him a smile and let him help her up.
After a small, cold breakfast and a quick cleanup of the camp, the enlarged party set out for Redcliffe. As they traveled, Revan continued to teach Alistair, and by extension Sten, about politics and warfare. The scenery steadily changed from trees to golden, dust and grass hills. Water birds flew above their heads. Revan could tell from Alistair's increasing nervousness that they were getting closer to the village. At last, as they crossed a bridge on a cliff that overlooked the shabby village, Alistair sprinted up to Rose to talk to her. Revan guessed from the pained expression of worry on his face that he was going to tell her the secret of his parentage. He jogged up to her and began talking in a furtive, low voice. Revan smiled, proud of him in a mentor-y sort of way.
Sten interrupted her thoughts. "I still do not understand why we are here. We do not have a treaty from this Arl," he complained, obviously confused.
"We're here for multiple reasons," she responded, still staring at Rose and Alistair, trying to ascertain Rose's emotions from a distance. "First, for soldiers, given to us on good faith. Then, for political reasons."
"How does that help us with the Blight?" Sten asked angrily.
Revan clapped her hands together, delighted: Rose had given him an excited smile. "Well think about it like this: if we fight the Blight with a huge army of elves, dwarves, and mages, it will look like we're trying to stage a coup. We need some normal, human, Ferelden soldiers to prove to the populace that our cause is legitimate."
"That hardly strikes me as a good enough reason to go out of our way and waste our time, when instead we could be getting those treaties," Sten retaliated.
Revan turned to look at him. "Oh? There's more to it than that. Do you remember Loghain?"
Sten gave a curt nod; the Qunari had been filled in on the recent movements of the traitor. "Well, it can safely be assumed that, because of his hatred of Grey Wardens, he will try to attack us, yes?"
He nodded again.
"The only thing preventing him from doing this so far is the fact that he does not wear the crown, and therefore does not have the support of the nobles. However, there is no doubt that he will soon call a Landsmeet to decide on a new king. And, right now, he is the only eligible choice. Follow?"
Another nod.
"Thus, without opposition, Loghain will take the throne, raise an army, and then we will have to fight a war on two fronts. And you know how horrible that would turn out."
Another nod.
"However, the Arl of Redcliffe, the one we are going to save or whatnot, has influence in the Landsmeet. If we have him on our side, about half the nobles will not support Loghain, maybe even more. Thus, we prevent Loghain from raising an army against us, and perhaps even gain the support of the nobles and their armies ourselves."
Morrigan turned around, having listened to the conversation. "And have this…Arl on the throne? How do we know we can trust him? Perhaps he will raise an army against us as well."
She smiled and looked back at Rose and Alistair. He was grinning sheepishly, while Rose looked a bit relieved. "The Arl won't be on the throne," she said wistfully.
Both the Qunari's and the witch's brows knitted together, following her gaze. Morrigan began, "You can't seriously be considering—"
She was interrupted by the arrival of a militiaman, panting and sweating from his uphill climb. His eyes flashed with terror. Revan examined him carefully: his armor was tattered and old, his sword hanging from his hip slightly dulled, and his quiver half empty. There had been fighting, sometime recently. She immediately began to worry.
"I…I thought I saw travelers coming down the road, though I scarcely believed it," the militiaman said breathlessly. "Have you come to help us?"
Rose looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
The militiaman's face fell. "So you don't know? Has nobody out there heard?"
"About the Arl being sick? We've heard that," Rose said, still puzzled.
"He could be dead, for all we know," he said, the terror growing in his eyes. "Nobody's heard from the castle in days. We're under attack. Monsters come out of the castle every night and attack us until dawn. Everyone's been fighting…and dying."
Morrigan snickered, "Apparently everyone seems to agree that a Blight is the perfect time to start killing each other. Marvelous, really."
Revan elbowed her in the side as the militiaman continued. "We've no army to defend us, no arl and no king to send us help. So many are dead, and those left are terrified they're next."
"Hold on," Alistair stopped him. "What is this evil that's attacking you?"
"I…I don't rightly know," he stuttered, "I'm sorry. Nobody does. I should take you to Bann Teagan. He's all that's holding us together. He'll want to see you."
"Bann Teagan? Arl Eamon's brother? He's here?" Alistair's face lit up a fraction.
"Yes," the militiaman responded. "It's not far, if you'll come with me."
Alistair followed the militiaman as he started walking down the path. With a sigh and a quick glance back at Revan, Rose followed. Revan smiled despite herself; her sword hand itched to draw her blade once more.
As they descended the hill, Redcliffe Village revealed itself more clearly. Most of the houses were built over the beach and lake, supported on the docks and stilts. Some larger buildings were built into the side of the surrounding hills, giving the entire village a haphazard feel, as if it was barely standing. Castle Redcliffe was, as its name implied, built on an overlooking cliff, large and stony in comparison to the small and wooden village. Revan immediately felt the aura of fear emanating from the villagers below. She could feel the darker side of her hungering for that fear, but she quickly quenched that dark desire. She would not return to the Dark Side.
The militiaman led them through the village square, an open dirt courtyard that was bordered by the Chantry on one side and the smithy on the other. He ascended the steps to the Chantry, the largest building in the village proper, and went through the doors. Revan steeled herself for another encounter with a Sister before entering. Sten walked a pace behind her, sort of like a protector, which made Revan feel slightly better.
The inside of the Chantry was darker than the sunny outside, causing Revan to blink once so her normal sight could adjust. The Chantry itself was packed with villagers; the old, infirm, young, and female crammed inside, talking in low tones and trying to quiet the crying babies and toddlers who didn't understand what was happening. Sisters meandered through the groups of people, offering aid and prayers when needed. The air was filled with the overpowering scent of sweaty bodies and terror. Near the altar at the back, a man in slightly less dirty and slightly more fancy clothes stood, his arms cross, presiding over the whole affair. His exterior was calm, but Revan could almost see the wheels in his head turning as he tried to figure out how he would save all these people. She assumed that the man was Bann Teagan.
His weary, bleak eyes caught sight of them, and a little energy returned to the Bann's face as he examined the group approaching him.
"It's…Tomas, yes?" the Bann addressed the militiaman. "And who are these people with you? They're obviously not simple travelers."
Revan grinned at the observation. Tomas hurried to say, "No, my lord. They just arrived, and I thought you would want to see them."
"Well done, Tomas," he gave Tomas a reassuring smile, trying his best to be strong for these people. Then, he turned his attention to the group, and his eyes settled on Rose, standing at the front and exuding an air of authority. "Greetings, friends. My name is Teagan, Bann of Rainesfere, brother of the Arl."
Alistair, standing next to Rose, cleared his throat. "I remember you, Bann Teagan, though the last time we met I was a lot younger...and covered in mud."
"Covered in mud?" Teagan repeated confused, before a bright, hopeful smile lit his face. "Alistair? It is you, isn't it? You're alive! This is wonderful news!"
"Still alive, yes, though not for long if Teyrn Loghain has anything to say about it," the awkward Warden said glumly.
"Indeed. Loghain would have us believe all Grey Wardens died along with my nephew, amongst other things," the Bann agreed bitterly.
Rose perked up at the comment. "You don't believe Loghain's lies?"
"What, that he pulled his men from the battlefield in order to save them? That Cailan risked everything in the name of glory? Hardly," Teagan replied. "Loghain calls the Grey Wardens traitors, murderers of the king. I don't believe it. It is an act of a desperate man. So…you are a Grey Warden as well?" he scrutinized Rose. "Is it possible we've met? You seem very familiar."
Rose gave him her courtier smile, trying to hide the pain of the memories of her days as a noble's daughter. "You may have known my father, Teyrn Cousland."
"Ah, yes, that's it exactly," Teagan flashed a smile back. Revan thought bitterly that he wouldn't be so happy if he knew the Teyrn's fate. "A pleasure to meet you indeed, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I assume you are here to see my brother, correct? Unfortunately, that might be a problem. Eamon is gravely ill, and no one has heard from the castle in days. No guards patrol the walls, and no one has responded to my shouts. Then, the attacks started, a few nights ago now. Evil…things surged from the castle. We drove them back, but many perished in the assault."
"What evil things are you talking about?" Rose asked inquisitively.
"Some call them the walking dead, decomposing corpses returning to life with a hunger for human flesh…" the Bann shivered. "They hit again the night afterward. Each night they come, always with greater numbers. With Cailan dead and Loghain starting a war over the throne, no one responds to my urgent calls for help. I have a feeling tonight's assault will be the worst yet. Alistair," Teagan turned to the familiar face, "I hate to ask, but I desperately need the help of you and your friends."
Alistair squirmed uncomfortably. "It isn't just up to me. Though the Grey Wardens don't stand much of a chance against Loghain without Arl Eamon."
Revan put a comforting hand on his pauldron. "That is exactly what I was thinking. Of course we'll help," she said, considering Rose's hesitant expression.
"There are no darkspawn here, and nothing to gain," Sten protested again. "It is a fool's errand."
Revan shot him a glare before reminding him, "We already talked about this, right, Sten?"
Sten grunted and looked away in stubborn consent. Morrigan looked like she was about to protest, too, but a quick glare from Revan made her look away in silence, too. They understood the reasons they were there, even if they didn't like it.
Teagan smiled in relief and spouted, "Thank you! Thank you! This…means more to me than you can guess. Tomas, please tell Murdock what transpired. Then return to your post."
"Yes, my lord," Tomas crossed his arm against his chest in a small bow before jogging out to inform this Murdock.
"Now then," the Bann turned back to them, the weariness returning to his eyes. "There is much to do before night falls. I've put two men in charge of the defenses outside. Murdock, the village mayor, is outside the Chantry. Ser Perth, one of Eamon's knights, is just up the cliff at the windmill, watching the castle. You may discuss with them the preparations for the coming battle."
Rose continued talking to the Bann, trying to ascertain exactly what the situation was from Teagan's view. Meanwhile, Revan gestured to Sten and Morrigan and took them to a relatively empty corner of the Chantry. She glared at both of them angrily.
"I get it," she began. "I don't want to be here anymore than you two. I'd much rather we get the treaties taken care of and go fight the darkspawn. Hell, I'd even be happier facing Loghain directly. However, this needs to be done if we're going to even have a chance at getting those treaties without being crushed by Loghain's armies. Now, both of you, these villagers are scared out of their wits, and they don't need you two complaining about how hopeless it is to fight these things. Capiche?
Morrigan and Sten exchanged guilty glances before nodding to her. Morrigan let out a sigh of defeat; she already knew better than to argue with Revan.
"Good, now—"
Revan stopped as Rose approached them. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?" Rose asked her.
Revan nodded to Sten and Morrigan to go, which they did without complaint. "Yes?"
Rose sighed. "So, like Teagan said, there are two…sort of groups defending the village: the knights up on the hill and the militia."
"All right."
Rose looked like she just ate something sour. "I…I need you to lead the militia. Or, help them, I mean."
"But?"
"The…Teagan says the monsters usually come from the castle bridge."
Revan nodded, understanding. That meant that the knights on the hill would fight the enemy first, rather than the villagers. "So, I'll be by myself down with the villagers?"
Rose cringed. "It's just…I thought about this, and…I've worked with knights before. I know how they think. But you…you're inspirational. If anyone can give the villagers courage to fight, it would be you. And you won't be alone…"
Revan raised an eyebrow. "Well, you'll need a mage with you, so there's Morrigan. And I refuse to work with Leliana again. We'll tear each other's throats out. Which leaves Sten and Alistair. So, which one do you want?"
The young Warden looked at the ground, "I know I said I wouldn't treat him differently because of his past, but…"
"Alistair is next in line for the throne, and putting him in excessive danger is a risk we can't take," Revan finished.
"How did you—" Rose asked in surprise.
"Duncan told me a long time ago," she answered, hesitant to mention that he had given her all his memories.
Rose nodded. "So, are you okay with that?"
"Of course. I want Sten with me for now, though; I have a feeling he'll be useful in shaping up the militia before nightfall," Revan smiled reassuringly at her.
Rose nodded again, the same weariness from Bann Teagan filling her face. This was going to be a long day.
The Warden left with Leliana and Morrigan to see if the knights needed any help preparing for the coming night, and Revan gathered Alistair and Sten. They looked at her expectantly, like pupils would look to their master, Alistair more so than Sten. She clapped her hands together, and they headed out of the Chantry to meet Murdock.
Outside, her eyes once again adjusting to the change in light, Revan took in the scene laid out before her. Militiamen tried practicing, but their weapons were shoddy and their armor in urgent need of repair. Revan wondered where the village smith was. From her observations, the militia looked like they wouldn't stand a chance in the upcoming battle.
There was one man standing near the stilt houses, with a thick goatee and slightly better armor than the rest. Revan figure he must be Murdock.
They approached him, and with one glance the man unconsciously pulled himself straighter. "So you're the Grey Warden, are you? I didn't think they made women Grey Wardens," Murdock greeted them.
Revan tried not to roll her eyes. She had met men like this before, when she was a Jedi. You? A Jedi? Can women even be Jedi? Mostly, it had been from drunkards or ill-educated slummies, but it still made her annoyed.
"I don't think the darkspawn care who kills them. And besides, right now you look like you can use all the help you can get, woman or no," Revan crossed her arms in irritation.
"True enough. I'm not an ingrate or nothing, I was just observin'," he said. "Name's Murdock, mayor of what's left of the village—providing we aren't all killed and hauled off to the castle tonight."
Revan gave him a small smile and used the Force to soothe his anxiety with her words. "Have faith, Murdock. We will be able to defeat this evil."
"I…I hope you're right," he said, a little less worried than before. "I've been trying to hold us together, but it isn't easy. Anyway, you're here, and they tell me you're in charge."
"I guess I am," Revan agreed. "So, tell me about the men: how's morale?"
Murdock grimaced, "Morale's about what you'd expect. These men aren't soldiers—they're villagers defending their homes, and they're frightened. It would help if we had decent equipment. There weren't enough swords in Owen's shop, and the men's armor is nearly falling off. I don't think we're in any shape to fight. We'll do our best, of course, but…well, I have my doubts. I just hope I'm alive tomorrow morning."
"You will be, don't worry," Revan reassured him. "But, about the weapons and armor…it would help morale if we had the village smith helping with that. Where is he?"
"Owen?" Murdock almost spit the name. "The stubborn fool refuses to even talk. He's locked himself in his forge."
"Why?"
"His daughter, Valena, is one of the Arlessa's maids," Murdock explained. "So he hasn't heard from her since this whole business started. He demanded that we attack the castle, break down the gate, and force our way in. I said it was impossible, but he wouldn't listen."
Revan's smile widened. She was sure she could handle a simple, distraught blacksmith. "All right. Anything else I can help with?"
Murdock considered this. "Well…we could use some extra bodies. Having a veteran like Dwyn in the militia would help a lot, but he flat out refuses.
"Dwyn?"
"He's a trader, a dwarf. Lives near the lake. Locked himself up in his home with some of his workers, he has, says he doesn't need any of us."
"Okay, I'll take care of that, too," Revan though aloud. "I'll be back soon."
She gestured to the boys, and they headed to the smith across the way. She knocked, and from inside the door, the smith began yelling and cursing at her. She imbued her voice with as much calm as she could muster, and the smith let them in. He was a portly man, and his breath smelled heavily of alcohol. In fact, his entire smithy smelled of alcohol. She and Alistair managed to convince him to help make repairs, in exchange for a promise that they'd find his daughter. Sten observed the entire exchange, obviously perturbed at the speed she promised their aid.
"Is this a promise we will not keep?" he asked.
"What's this?" Owyn asked. Luckily, the spirits were still having the desired effect.
Sten glared at him. "I said nothing to you, human."
"We are keeping the promise, Sten," Revan growled at him. She finished speaking with Owyn, and then they departed. Walking out of the smithy, she explained that they'd have to go into the castle at some point to save the Arl, and they hadn't promised to bring back Valena alive. Sten seemed satisfied with the answer.
They managed to find Dwyn's house as well, but he had locked the door and refused to answer, unlike Owyn. Revan sighed; luckily, the lock was weak. She smiled at Sten.
"Would you do the honors, Sten?" she asked.
He grunted, but his eyes didn't seem quite as angry and his ran his shoulder into the door and busted it down. The lock, of course, gave in easily, and Sten caused the door to swing in violently. Revan stepped over the sill and into the small house, followed by Alistair. Sten trailed after.
Inside was a virtual stockpile of crates and weapons. Some armed men stood nearby, wearing the hardened expressions of trained soldiers or guards. They did, however, seem surprised that someone had broken down the door. A stocky, armored dwarf emerged from behind a pile of furniture used as a barricade. He put his fists on his hips and glowered at her, the obvious leader.
"Wonderful. Intruders," he said flatly. "I hope you've a good reason for breaking and entering my home."
"Yes, I do," she said. "Murdock says he needs you for the militia, and when no one answered the door, I worried something might be wrong."
The dwarf scowled even deeper. "The name's Dwyn. Pleased to meet you. But, I'll tell you what I told Murdock: I'm not risking my neck for this town."
"Oh?" Revan crossed her arms. "And I can't change your mind about that?"
"Maybe. Let's hear what you've got," the dwarf folded his arms likewise.
"Would you like me to?" Sten asked, his tone flat and serious.
"No, no, I can handle this."
Revan debated whether she should use logic on him, or use the Force to sway him. He seemed like a stubborn dwarf. Then she smiled; she would use this opportunity to test her strength. She knew dwarves weren't entirely resistant to the Force, unlike some of the aliens Revan had met in her past. She should be able to convince him.
She extended her hand, palm facing the dwarf, and putting all her willpower behind her words, she commanded, "You want to fight with the militia."
The dwarf was incredibly willful, as she had expected. His mind resisted her power with ferocity. But, Revan kept the power flowing between them. She put all her willpower behind it; she had to win this fight. After a minute of intense focus, she felt his will begin to waver, and then she overwhelmed his mind with the urge to fight with the militia.
"I…want to fight with the militia," Dwyn conceded wearily.
"Excellent, that's what I thought you'd say." Revan suddenly felt very tired.
"Go tell Murdock he won. And I better see you out in the square when those creatures come," Dwyn said bitterly, before turning away.
Revan led the men out of the house. Once they were out of earshot, Alistair turned to her, a big, awed grin on his face.
"I didn't know you could do that!" he proclaimed.
"What? Sway people with my mind?"
"Well, yes!" he responded. "That was amazing!"
"Was this a trick of magic?" Sten asked, his voice deadly serious.
She turned her head to look at him. "Not exactly. It was…a different sort of magic."
"So, you are bas saarebas? You are a mage?"
Sten's eyes looked accusingly at her. "Yes," she answered truthfully. "I am a mage."
Immediately, Sten stiffened. Obviously, he did not like mages, just as Alistair didn't. But, he said nothing; apparently, he respected her enough to not strangle her on the spot.
Back at the village, Murdock was incredibly pleased with her work. The men looked to be in better spirits as well, thanks to the repaired equipment. Revan hoped that tonight would go well. She did not know if these men could continue without some sort of victory. Alistair, Sten, and her spent the rest of the afternoon helping the men prepare, adjusting armor and giving advice to the untrained men. Murdock helped as well, and he even apologized to Revan for his earlier insult to her gender.
Then, the sun started to set. The men began to get nervous and fidgety. Battle nerves. All soldiers had it, before a fight. Even Revan sometimes got anxious. But, these men needed a strong leader. So, she ascended the stairs of the Chantry and gave a loud whistle, catching everyone's attention. All the militiamen in the square turned to face her.
The words almost caught in her throat, but these men needed encouragement. "Men," she began, "tonight, you will be asked to once again fight the horrors that have come from the castle in order to defend your homes and your families. They will outnumber us, this is true. And I know many of you do not have hope that you will survive the coming storm.
"However, I will tell you that you are wrong. We shall drive the monsters back into the grave, and we shall persevere! I promise you all, that by morning, all of you shall still be alive!"
A cheer broke out among the men. Alistair and Sten stared at her in abhorrent shock. Obviously, they did not think that that was a promise she could keep. But, she had said it, and she would prove them wrong. Her speech, meanwhile, had had the desired effect. The men were in better spirits now, ready to fight. That was all the edge Revan needed.
Murdock approached her, trailed by a concerned Alistair and a fuming Sten.
"That's a mighty fine promise you made there," the mayor said.
"One that I intend to keep," she responded.
He bit his lip. "I hope you can; these men need a victory."
"Which is exactly why I promised that."
Murdock grunted, and Sten's eyes narrowed. He obviously did not believe her, but that was fine with Revan. She sent him up to Rose, who she assumed was getting the knights ready for the battle as well. Then, she and Alistair waited for the monsters as dusk settled in.
She kept him talking, knowing that if he stopped, he, too, would grow nervous. They talked about a wide range of things, from why Rose had ordered him to stand with the villagers to the principles of the Chantry. As he talked, Revan grew more and more impressed with his intellect; he obviously did not give himself enough credit.
Around ten o'clock, they began hearing the clash of metal and the battle cries of the knights from atop the hill. Alistair immediately turned quiet and began pacing, his face indicating his concern, most likely for Rose. A fire blazed from the barrels of oil Rose had found. The men began to get restless. Even Revan stood and began to scan the horizon for threats, but strangely, the only glow that came from the hill was those of Rose and the knights. There was another glow, one more hazy, and different…
A sentry from within the village proper ran back and found Revan, panting breathlessly. His eyes were wide from terror.
"Monsters!" he shouted unnecessarily. "From the lake! Coming this way!"
Revan swore under her breath and turned to find Tomas, standing ready and awaiting her orders. "Go tell Rose, but only if the tide up there is controllable," she ordered. He saluted and ran up the hill.
Striding forward purposefully, Revan positioned herself between the lake and the square, where the monsters would first appear. The men gathered behind her, and Alistair took a spot beside her. Revan could smell the sweat in the air, hear the ragged breaths of the men as they struggle to calm their terror. She sent out am emphatic wave of calm over the group in order to clear their minds. If she was going to keep her promise, she needed them in the best possible shape.
The first monster appeared from between the houses and snarled at them with its glowing red eyes. It was a human corpse, its skin grey with decay, the flesh practically falling off its bones. In her second sight, the creature glowed like it was made of magic: the thing was possessed by a demon, probably a lesser one. Some men began to whimper in fear.
"Hold where you are!" Revan shouted. "Let it come to us!"
Right on cue, the monster gave a hiss and began charging, followed by several other of its comrades. Revan drew her blades, then, thinking that if there was any time she could use fire, it was then, she sheathed her poison blade and pulled out her lightsaber. Alistair looked at her in confusion, until she activated the blade, and the glowing blade lit up the square. The creatures were temporarily blinded, but the continued their charge.
As they reached Revan, she screamed in bloodlust and swiped her swords through the group, cutting through the decayed flesh as easily as she would warm butter. The group went down, not having even reached the militia. A cheer went up, and Revan could feel the morale increase as the men began to believe that they would, indeed, survive.
Then, the monsters began to come in larger and larger waves. Finally, the monsters began to reach the men, but luckily, the monsters were clumsy and inept with their weapons. The archers on the roofs kept shooting down the monsters, and the men easily chopped down the monsters. Revan kept whipping her blades around her, slaying the beasts around her with ferocity. Soon, a pile of corpses lay in front of her, and she had to climb up to the crest in order to keep fighting the possessed things. Alistair was on a pile of his own, though not quite as high, fighting just as fiercely. The stench of decay quickly overwhelmed the scent of sweat, and it kept causing Revan to gag. She had to keep reminding herself that she couldn't be distracted, since the monsters just kept coming. Sweat poured down her forehead and down her back. Her limbs began to feel heavy as she continued swinging widely to catch any enemies too close.
Finally, she saw Rose, Sten, Morrigan, and Leliana running down the hill to join the fighting. Leliana's arrows began whistling overhead with the arrows of the other archers, always catching the corpses in the head and felling them. Rose ran to join Alistair, and Sten began chopping his way towards Revan. She continued fighting until he managed to get to her.
"Did you slay all these?" Sten kicked the pile of corpses.
Revan flashed him a toothy smile. "Of course! Why do you think I'm covered in grime?"
Sten joined her on top of the little hill, and together, they pushed forward towards the houses and lake like a team that had fought together for years. Sten fought the same way Malak had, which made Revan both happy with nostalgia and sad with regret and what had become of him. However, together, they were just as efficient as she and Malak had been all those years ago. Enemies quickly fell before them, and they managed to get all the way to the docks. Revan glanced over through the wooden stilts to see Rose and Alistair making progress as well. Unfortunately, the closer to the lake they got, the more enemies they encountered. Soon, she could see Sten sweating in strain. This would have to end soon, if they had any chance of saving everyone.
At last, they came within view of Lake Calenhad. This was where the corpses were coming from; now, if only Revan had some way to incinerate them all…
"Cover me," she told Sten with sudden inspiration.
She closed her eyes and focused her energy, the peace and calm of her mind coupled with the anger and passion in her heart, and channeled it into an inferno of energy. Her eyes flashed open, and she caused the energy to surge from her body and light the water surrounding the village like it had been oil. The strangled sound of corpses hissing from the flame filled her ears, and the scent of burning flesh filled her nose. The lake was engulfed with flame, and then, after a minute of draining her energy and drowning/burning the corpses beneath the water, the flame extinguished. No more corpses rose from the depths.
"Well, glad that's over," Revan wobbled. Then, drained of all energy, she collapsed into blackness. Again.