Title: Forged In Fire
Rating: M (for violence and language)
Warnings: none
Summary: Elissa Cousland teased Loghain for being ridiculously sentimental when he gave her a diamond ring engraved with the words 'You Brought Me Back to Life'. Now, four months later, he is trying to kill her and she is raising an army against him.
Disclaimer + Notes: Bioware owns everything you recognise. Everything you don't (including the poetry) is mine. Thanks ever so much to my beta-readers lilpumpkingirl and analect for their help with spelling, style, ideas and all manner of things. They have been life savers! As always, any remaining errors are mine. Thoughts, comments and opinions (negative or positive) are always welcome, and I do respond to each of them individually.
Chapter 7 – No Straight Lines
Scales glisten like jewels around and around like a constrictor
Baking in the heat as with its long body wrapping And its fangs dripping
He lies lethargic upon to swallow its prey whole venom to paralyze
The sun-warmed rock forth from a jaw unhinged and kill.
A long forked tongue flickering
The first thing Elissa was aware of was that, although her body ached, the agonizing pain was gone. Then she realised she was listing to the side, as though the surface she was on was uneven. She heard a soft rustle of movement and her eyes snapped open. She was lying on a bed, in a small hut. A thin blanket covered her nude form, the worn thread smooth again her skin. Duke lay by her side, his weight causing the depression in the mattress she'd felt when she awoke. Stretching out a hand, she rubbed the top of his head. He barked happily, bathing her hand with his wet tongue.
By the bookcase, a young woman was flicking through the pages of a small black book. After a moment, Elissa identified her as Morrigan, the girl they'd met on their trip into the Wilds. The mage. Elissa controlled a shudder.
Morrigan looked up. "Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."
So the old woman was here. Elissa struggled to sit up, ignoring the flash of pain through her chest. "I remember you. Morrigan, right?" As the blanket slipped, she grabbed for it to keep herself covered.
The witch nodded. "Yes indeed. And we are in the Wilds, where I am bandaging your wounds. You are welcome, by the way." She smirked. "You need not feel so self-conscious, I have seen it all. How do you feel?"
Ignoring her burning cheeks, Elissa took stock. "My body aches a little, but it could be worse. What happened? The last thing I remember is being overwhelmed by darkspawn on top of the Tower."
"Mother managed to save you and your friend, though 'twas a close call. The important thing is that you both live," Morrigan tilted her head. "The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well."
The world fell out from beneath her. "What? Loghain quit the field?"
"I do not know this Loghain. Was he the man who commanded your hidden forces?" Morrigan said dismissively. "At any rate, it was the man in the silver armour who ordered the soldiers to retreat."
There had to be a mistake. Loghain would not have abandoned Cailan on the field. "He would never have done that," she said with certainty. "I don't believe you."
Morrigan shrugged. "If you like. I say only what I saw."
"You saw it?" Elissa demanded.
"Yes," Morrigan nodded.
"How?"
"My skills allow me to take the form of animals, and I watched the battle from the trees."
No. She refused to believe it. There had to be another explanation.
But they've been fighting constantly since you arrived, a traitorous little voice whispered.
He would never kill Maric's son, she retorted.
And Loghain has never hidden the fact he didn't think Cailan was worthy of his father.
No. Never. He was exasperated by Cailan, but he would never wish his death. She shoved the thoughts away, and looked up into yellow eyes.
Morrigan arched an eyebrow. "If you are finished interrogating me?"
Right. She was being ungrateful. "My apologies. It is simply…difficult, to believe. What happened to the king? And the Grey Wardens?"
"All dead," Morrigan said simply. "Without your extra forces, your king had no chance."
Elissa wanted not to believe it, but she couldn't. Morrigan's eyes were too serious. And if the battle had not gone ill, she would have awoken in the Ostagar infirmary, not here. So however it happened, Cailan was dead. Her childhood friend was dead, slaughtered on the battlefield. In her mind's eye, she could see him sprawled dead on the ground, like the knights Howe had killed in Castle Cousland. Blood pooled around him, a long blade pinning him to the earth. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, desperately suppressing the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. There would be no hope of finding Fergus now either. With the whole darkspawn army on the surface, he had to hide…if he wasn't dead.
"Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him. He is outside by the fire. Mother asked to see you when you awoke." The witch set a pile of clothes and armour down on the end of the bed, next to the scratched leather backpack.
Elissa blinked back her tears. "My friend?" she frowned.
"The blond man who was with you before."
Alistair, then. "All right." She looked at the pile of clothes and then at Morrigan.
The other woman sighed harshly, and then turned around to face away from the bed. "'Tis not as though I have not seen your body before."
Elissa chose not to answer that. Instead, she nudged Duke off the bed and swung her legs off the bed, wincing as a sharp bolt of pain reverberated through her side. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself and levered herself up. Her legs wobbled slightly as she regained her feet, but the pain didn't return.
"Is he all right?"
As she shook out the clothes, the smell of wild flowers and forests wafted up from the material.
"Physically he is fine. Far more so than you are," Morrigan answered.
"Were my injuries severe?" She vaguely recalled being crushed by the ogre, and feelings her ribs snap.
"Yes, Mother spent the last five days healing you. But I expect you shall be fine," Morrigan assured her. "The darkspawn did nothing that mother could not heal."
Elissa froze in the act of tying the breastband around her chest. "Five days?"
"Yes." The witch seemed amused at her disbelief.
Elissa forced her body to move, reaching for the trousers and shirt. "Tell me." She stared down at the embroidered wyvern on the collar of the shirt. Loghain. Had he betrayed Cailan, leaving everyone to die? Had he left her to die? No. Never. And yet, what other answer could there be? If Morrigan was telling the truth, Loghain's forces had never engaged the enemy. Had he been knocked out by a traitor before he could give the command to engage? Had he not seen the beacon light up? Had Alistair and she been so late with the beacon that it was all over?
"…arrows, including one that punctured your lung," Morrigan listed. "As well as a ruptured kidney, a dislocated shoulder, a twisted ankle, a broken wrist and a concussion."
Wrenching her mind back into her surroundings, she frowned. "That shouldn't have knocked me out for five days. I'm decent." She reached for her armour next, gritting her teeth as her wrist twinged under the weight.
Morrigan turned around. "Mother kept you asleep. The arrows were poisoned, and your body was not fighting as well as it should have, given the presence of the child."
For the third time in as many minutes, it was like a sledgehammer had slammed into her. Her armour clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers. "The child?" Elissa echoed, eyes wide.
"Your child," Morrigan said impatiently.
"I don't have a child," she protested.
Morrigan stared at her. "Well, not now you don't."
"I don't understand," Elissa rubbed her forehead.
The witch sighed. "You were pregnant with a babe, you know this, yes?"
"No," Elissa swayed, reaching to grasp the nearest wall. A babe? Her heart pounded in her chest.
"Did you not sense the child's conception?" Morrigan frowned.
Elissa shook her head numbly. "I'm not a mage."
She'd only slept with one man. This was Loghain's child. His heir. Gwaren's heir.
"Ah," Morrigan nodded. "I see."
Elissa looked down at her flat belly. "I'm pregnant?" There was a child growing inside her.
"No. Mother fought for three days to keep your baby alive. But it died."
"D…Died?" Elissa croaked. Her hands went convulsively to her stomach.
"Yes," Morrigan said. She looked a little lost in the face of Elissa's emotions. "Mother did try. But between the…strangeness of your blood, and the poison…"
Her baby was dead. "Strangeness in my blood?" Duke whined softly in response to her mood, and his large head nudged against her side.
"It felt like darkspawn." Morrigan shrugged.
The Joining. When she'd drunk the strange mixture that included darkspawn blood. A roar of fury rose up inside her. That ritual had killed her child! Her blood roared in her ears and her stomach rebelled. The next thing she knew, what little was inside her was now on the floor.
"Are you all right?" Morrigan sounded uncertain.
Elissa straightened, unsteadily. "Yes," she said after a moment. She gathered her manners. "I'm sorry about the mess."
"'Tis nothing," Morrigan waved her hand. An intense expression crossed her face, and the smelly mess was gone.
Elissa was too distraught to startle at the casual use of magic. "What happened to the…child?"
"It was reabsorbed into your body when you miscarried," she explained.
Elissa swallowed, shoving her battered emotions aside, and firmed her shoulders. She had a duty. She did not have time to grieve for the child she never knew, for her best friend or for any of those who died. If the darkspawn had won, there was no chance the Blight was over. And Duncan had said all the Grey Wardens were at the battle, so she and Alistair were now the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Stopping the Blight was not going to be done from inside this hut. "Are we safe here? Where are the darkspawn?"
"We are safe here, for the moment. Mother's magic keeps the darkspawn away. Once you leave, 'tis uncertain what will happen. The horde has moved on, so you might avoid it." Morrigan didn't look particularly fussed either way.
"Why did your mother rescue us?" With numb fingers, she slid into her armoured trousers.
"I wonder at that myself but she tells me nothing. Perhaps you were all she could reach," she tapped a long finger against her lips. "I would have rescued your king. A king would be worth a much higher ransom."
Elissa's stomach twisted again. "Much, much higher."
The witch didn't seem to see her discomfort. "What a sensible attitude. Mother is seldom sensible, however."
"How did she rescue us?" Elissa fastened the breastplate.
"She turned into a giant bird and plucked you from the tower, one in each talon." Morrigan smirked. "If you do not believe that tale, then I suggest you ask mother yourself. She might even tell you."
Elissa somehow doubted that. "Are there any survivors beside us?"
"Only stragglers that are long gone. You would not want to see what is happening in the valley now," Morrigan's lip curled.
"I see. Thank you for helping to heal me." Duke barked his agreement.
Morrigan looked taken aback. "I…you are welcome. Though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."
"Nevertheless," Elissa insisted. "Thank you." Sliding her sword into the sheath on her back, she winced as her arm muscles protested the movement. "Your mother is outside?
"Well, she is not in here," Morrigan cocked an eyebrow.
Elissa smiled faintly. "True." As she made her way to the door, she took stock of her body. The armour felt heavier than normal, and her body ached, particularly her sword arm, shoulder and her side. She could fight, but would not be nearly as quick as normal. It would take her some time to recover, she suspected.
Pushing open the door, she spotted Alistair standing at the edge of the small lake, facing away. The old woman, Morrigan's mother, was standing nearby. Elissa's gaze caught on the gleaming white ruins in the distance. The crumbling ruins of Ostagar were so large that they could be seen from almost anywhere in the Korcari Wilds, including this hut in the middle of the marshes. She wondered that the stones were not red with the blood spilled there.
Morrigan's mother's gaze flickered over Elissa, and she gave an odd half-laugh. "See! Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, lad."
The blond man spun. "My lady! You…you're alive. I thought you were dead for sure."
He was visibly tired, grief etching lines on his face that hadn't been there when she last saw him. A beard was starting to grow in along his jaw, making him look even more haggard.
"I'm not, thanks to Morrigan's mother." She nodded to the old woman. "Were you injured seriously?"
"I was, but they've been healed." Alistair shook his head. "T-this doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead atop that tower."
"Do not speak of me as though I am not here, lad," the grey-haired witch said sharply.
He flushed. "Sorry." He gestured helplessly. "But you, ah, never told us your name."
She snorted. "Names are pretty, but useless." She seemed to consider the question. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. That will do."
Flemeth? Elissa's spine stiffened. She knew the stories of Flemeth, of course. Nan had often told folktales, and that included the myriad of stories about the Witch of the Wilds. If even half those stories were true, this woman could reach into minds and pluck out thoughts, or destroy them with a blink. But the Flemeth of the stories was most often an old crone, and though this woman was elderly, she wasn't exactly the sort of crone Elissa had always pictured.
Alistair took a step back, paling. "The Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right, you are the Witch of the Wilds."
"And what does that mean?" Flemeth retorted. "I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?" The flash of her eyes was a sharp contrast to the worn, patched robe she wore.
Elissa broke in before Alistair could get them into further trouble. Irritating the mage who had just saved your life was not the best way to go about things. "We are grateful for it. Is there a way we can repay you?"
Flemeth laughed. "All I wish you to do is what you are meant to do. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against the Blight." She raised an eyebrow. "Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"
"But we were fighting the darkspawn," Alistair protested, looking indignant. Then anger overtook his features. "The king had nearly defeated them. Why would Loghain do this?"
Elissa gritted her teeth. "I don't…won't believe he did. Not without proof."
"And my word is not good enough for you?" Flemeth pinned her with a stare.
"I know that battles rarely go as planned. And I won't condemn him just on what you saw." Loghain had expected there to be an after. He wouldn't have simply abandoned the battle. "Something must have happened!"
"He was a coward! Or a traitor," Alistair snapped.
"He wouldn't do that! He lives for Ferelden. He's nearly given his life for this country a dozen times or more!"
Flemeth tapped her bottom lip with a long, worn finger. "The hearts of men hold shadows darker than any tainted creature, girl. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmanoeuvre? Or perhaps he doesn't see that it is the evil behind it that is the true threat?" She cackled. "Or perhaps he was not thinking straight because he was distracted by some pretty girl."
Elissa hid a flinch. Somehow the old witch knew about her relationship with Loghain.
Alistair's eyes narrowed, clearly ignoring the old witch's last comment. "The Archdemon is the true threat."
"Then we need to find this Archdemon," Elissa suggested, trying to steer the conversation away from Loghain. Regardless of Loghain's actions or motives or anything, she and Alistair were the only Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. It would fall to them to defeat the Blight. If Loghain was blameless, they could go to him for help. But if he wasn't, a niggling voice reminded her, they would need to have other plans.
Alistair gave her a disbelieving look. "By ourselves, my lady? No Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the armies of a half-dozen nations at his back."
Ah, right. Elissa had forgotten that aspect of the legends. But in her defence, they all focused on the heroism of the Wardens.
"Not to mention, I don't know how." He frowned.
"How to defeat the Archdemon?" Flemeth interjected. "Or how to raise an army? It seems to me those are two very different questions." Her tone turned mocking. "Have the Grey Wardens no allies these days?"
Alistair seemed oblivious to her insinuations. "I don't know. Duncan said the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. But with Loghain in charge of the throne…"
"Where are the nearest Grey Wardens from here? Other than the Orlesians?" Elissa asked. "Could we not contact them?"
"If we go north and cross the sea, there's bound to be some in the Free Marches. But I just don't know where. Weisshaupt Fortress is our headquarters, but that's thousands of miles away." He paused. "Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."
"Arl Eamon?" Elissa echoed slowly. Cailan's uncle. The Arl who made no secret of his ambitions to be a Teyrn, or at least to wield the power of one. His lucrative trade with Orzammar made Redcliffe the third point of Ferelden's power triangle, the other two being Gwaren for its natural resources and Highever for the international trade. He was an odd choice for an ex-templar to pick. She'd expected he would have wanted to go to the Grand Cleric, not a noble.
Alistair shrugged. "I suppose…Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar, he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. He would never stand for what Loghain has done."
Elissa gritted her teeth to keep from snapping at him.
"I know him," Alistair said. "He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help."
"And say he doesn't help us? What then?" Elissa demanded.
Flemeth raised an eyebrow. "You have more at your disposal than simply old friends."
"Of course, the treaties." Alistair's eyes lit up. "Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages and other places. They're obligated to help us during a Blight."
"I may be old but elves, dwarves, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else. This sounds like an army to me," Flemeth drawled.
He turned to Elissa. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and…build an army?"
"I doubt it will be as easy as that," Elissa said slowly. What the hell was she doing? Agreeing to go around the country, building an army? Behind the throne's back, no less! Behind Loghain's back! And yet, what choice did she have? Loghain had failed to stop the Blight, Cailan was dead, and she was a Grey Warden. A Grey Warden who'd spent less than twenty-fours awake since becoming one, but a Grey Warden nonetheless. Her duty was to stop the Blight. And if there was one thing being a Cousland taught her, it was duty.
Flemeth laughed darkly. "When is it ever?"
"It's always been the Grey Wardens' duty to stand against the Blight," Alistair agreed. "And right now, we're the Grey Wardens."
"So you are set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth sounded almost gleeful.
Elissa's eyes narrowed but she kept her voice steady. "Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth." Now, if they could get away from here quickly….
"No, no," the witch waved it off with a gnarled hand. "Thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I." She paused. "There is one more piece of help I can offer you before you go."
The creak of the door drew their attention as Morrigan exited the hut. She crossed the grass towards them. She ignored the two Wardens, looking instead to her mother. "The stew is bubbling, Mother. Shall we have two guests for the eve, or none?"
Flemeth wore an expression of gleeful anticipation. "The Grey Wardens will be going shortly, and you will be going with them."
What? Elissa blinked, barely keeping her jaw from dropping. Alistair had no such ability, and was gaping at the witch.
Morrigan's manner was mock sympathetic. "Such a sh—What?" Horror spread across her face.
Her mother cackled. "You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears!" she mocked.
Elissa stepped forward, into the line of sight of both women. "Thank you. But if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us-"
"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth cut her off mid-sentence. "And she knows the way out of the Wilds."
"I don't think—" Elissa began. Travelling with a mage was never a good idea.
Flemeth fixed her with a stare. "You'll have to get over your…fear of mages at some point, girl."
"I don't fear mages!"
She didn't! She didn't trust them certainly, and regarded them with wariness. But the only mages she feared were the ones trying to kill her, and Elissa feared everyone who tried to kill her, mage or not.
Flemeth laughed. "Lying to me is one thing. Lying to yourself is another. In any case, Morrigan shall go with you."
"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded crossly.
"You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years." Flemeth waved a hand. "Consider this your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
Well, that didn't leave very much room for interpretation did it? "Very well, we'll take her with us."
Alistair cleared his throat carefully. "Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."
Flemeth glared. "If you do not want help from us illegal mages, young man, maybe I should have left you on top of that tower."
He coughed awkwardly. "Point taken." His cheeks had flushed a dull red.
"Mother, this is not how I wanted this," Morrigan protested again. "I am not even ready-"
"You must be ready." Flemeth's eyes were intense. "Alone these two must unite Ferelden against the Blight. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will fall beneath the Blight. Even I."
"Well, that just boosted my confidence way up," Alistair muttered under his breath.
Elissa hid a grin.
"I…" Morrigan swallowed. "…understand."
"And you Grey Wardens?" Flemeth whirled on them. "Do you understand? I give you that which I treasure above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed?"
Elissa schooled her face into polite acceptance. "I understand."
Morrigan sighed, her irritation clear. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."
Then she turned on her heel and swept off.
That night, Elissa scooped the heavy rabbit and wild onion stew she just finished cooking into a roughly hewn bowl that Flemeth had provided them with, hiding the wince as still recovering muscles protested. Duke looked up from the skinned rabbit she'd tossed to him earlier, and gave a soft whine. Quietly she made her way over to where Alistair sat in front of his tent, at the edge of the campfire's light. She crouched and held it out to him silently.
He raised dull eyes to meet hers. "Thank you, my lady."
Since leaving Flemeth's hut, he'd withdrawn into himself, being so quiet and sullen that she'd not dared try to talk to him.
"My name is Elissa."
Surprise chased confusion across his face before both emotions faded into the empty expression he'd worn before. "It wouldn't be appropriate, my lady."
Elissa sighed. "I'm going to spend months on the road with just you and Morrigan. I'm not going to have you constantly standing on ceremony."
She would go mad if she heard nothing but 'my lady' this and 'my lady' that constantly. At least before, she'd always had her family and friends to use her name. Her heart clenched at the reminder.
He looked unsure but nodded.
"Good," she said briskly. "Now, we're going to need to take shifts for watch tonight." She paused to see if he was going to say anything. No, it appeared not. "I'll take the first watch, then I'll wake you and Morrigan can have the last. All right?"
He nodded silently again. As he looked away, she nearly gasped. In the flickering of the fire, the resemblance to Cailan was even greater. Cailan. Who was dead. Her stomach twisted. Then a horrifying thought dawned on her. If Cailan was dead…this was the heir apparent. Never mind that Alistair was a bastard, he was the last of the Theirin bloodline. A bitter smile twisted her lips. For a Theirin king, the nobles would ignore even that he was a Warden.
After a long moment, she shook herself. It hardly mattered now. She would never be able to convince him to go with her to Denerim, given his opinion of Loghain. He clearly saw his duty as a Grey Warden being more important than his duty as a king. So instead, she would have to make sure he lived through this and didn't get himself killed by darkspawn before he could take the throne. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.
Walking back to the fire, she filled the other two bowls with stew. Heading towards the campfire Morrigan had set up for herself some distance away, she fought to keep herself from limping or favouring her left ankle, which was currently shooting bolts of pain up her leg.
The witch glanced up at her approach and raised an eyebrow. She was surrounded by dried leaves and herbs dangling from a strange frame she'd constructed from sticks and twine.
"Dinner." Elissa held the bowl out.
Morrigan took it with a nod.
"We need to set up a watch." Elissa took a sip from her bowl, letting the warmth of the stew fill her belly. "I thought I'd take the first watch, Alistair the second and you could take the last one?" She chewed on a large chunk of rabbit, working her jaw until it softened enough to swallow.
Morrigan nodded. "Very well."
Elissa eyed her for a moment, hesitating, and then plunged on. "Is this what you want? You didn't seem very happy at leaving to come with us, and regardless of what your mother said, I will not keep you here if you prefer to leave."
The yellow hawk eyes looked up. "What I want is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean and step in it. To experience a city rather than see it in my mind." She sighed. "So yes, this is what I want. Actually leaving was…harder than I thought. Maybe Mother was right, it simply had to be done quickly." She paused. "You seem to be taking this 'betrayal' much more calmly than your friend. You, at least, can still function."
Elissa sighed wearily. "His name is Alistair. And… well, I don't know that I believe this betrayal is quite what it seems."
Morrigan shrugged. "As you like. In any case, I wanted to talk to you about our meals."
Elissa glanced at her. "Despite what Alistair said earlier, you don't have to cook I suppose."
Morrigan snorted. "From all accounts I cook better than that oaf, and Mother says you are a noble."
"I cooked dinner tonight," Elissa protested. "Fa…Father ensured that we could survive on the road without help." After the humiliation of being dependant on others during the war with Orlais, Bryce Cousland had been determined that his children would never suffer the same way.
"He taught you soldier's cooking clearly," the witch said briskly. "I, on the other hand, cook proper, nourishing food."
"You don't like my cooking?" The beginnings of a smile quirked Elissa's lips.
Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "It is edible, certainly. But there are herbs I can add that will make it better."
"Very well, then. If you cook every second night, and let me help so I can learn?" She refused to be dependent on Morrigan. Better for Elissa to learn to cook as well, in case their paths diverged.
Morrigan nodded sharply. "Certainly. Now, Mother gave us enough dried supplies for some days, but if you prefer fresh food, we will need to hunt tomorrow. Your friend there looks like he'd make far too much noise in his armour, even if one could get him to stop sulking. That leaves you and I, though your armour looks quite noisy too."
"He is grieving, not sulking," Elissa said quietly. "But yes, I can hunt." She considered her companion. "You have spells for hunting?"
Morrigan smiled viciously. "Not precisely. But I can take the shape of a predator easily. You have objections to hunting with a wolf?"
Elissa swallowed. "No."
"Would you be able to recognise various herbs as we travel?"
"Herbs? You know how to make healing poultices?"
"I am a witch," Morrigan said dryly. "So, yes, I do."
Elissa glanced at her. "Maybe. It will depend on the herb." That was a stroke of luck. Healing could be expensive, and if Morrigan could make her own, they would save a lot of gold they didn't have.
"Good. I'll need you to keep an eye out for elfroot, deep mushroom, arnica, meadowsweet, butterbur, willowbark and thyme. Those will be enough as basics." Morrigan gestured to the display of drying herbs near her fire. "I collected some as we walked today, but we will soon need more."
Elissa nodded. "I know those ones." She tipped the bowl against her lips, letting the last of the stew drain down her throat. "Deep mushroom will be hard to find out here though. We'll probably have to rely on merchants for that. When we stop in villages, you should come along with me and show me what other things you'll need."
Morrigan gave her a surprised glance. "I confess to being surprised at your generosity."
Elissa smiled grimly. "With the darkspawn roaming the land, we'll no doubt have to fight our way across Ferelden. We can't afford to skimp on something that could keep one of us alive." She could feel the distant hum of darkspawn in her mind, and they'd had more than one close call earlier in the day.
The brunette nodded. "A most practical view." She glanced towards her tent impatiently.
Elissa straightened, ignoring the bright lance of pain in her side. "Good night, Morrigan."
"Good night," the witch returned.
Elissa moved away from the warmth of the small fire, towards the larger fire they had set up for Alistair and herself. When she arrived beside it, Alistair was nowhere in sight. His bowl was discarded by the fire, waiting for the next morning when they'd take the dishes to the nearby stream to clean them. She glanced at his tent, noting the closed flap. He was asleep, or at least pretending to be.
Crawling into her own tent, she rummaged through her backpack and pulled out one of the pain-killing potions Flemeth had provided her with. Tipping the flask back, she drained it. A few moments later the aches and pains began to fade. Then she crawled back out of the tent and headed for a large log just out of the circle of firelight. Settling down on it, she let her eyes adjust to the dimness.
Duke crept across from the place by the fire he'd claimed as his own and flopped down at her feet. She tangled her fingers in his fur, stroking lightly over the thin scar running the length of his flank.
Abruptly, a half-whimper, half-sob broke the silence. Her head whipped around towards Alistair's tent where the sound had come from. Her lips tightened at the blatant sound of grief. Not so asleep then.
Her hands trembled. Cailan was dead. Cailan and his entire section of the army, including half the Highever guards. And it was Loghain who had abandoned them to that fate. Her betrothed had as good as killed her best friend. A single tear trailed down her cheek silently, before she blinked back the others.
A slow, simmering anger began to burn inside as the shock that had gripped her since she woke finally faded. He would have to do some fast talking to explain that one away, she thought savagely. There had better be a damn good reason for his actions.