We made it in a matter of hours. I'd never rode so fast in my life, and spent much of the trip clutching the reigns as though that would keep me from cracking my head on the ground. My head began to scream at me when we were a mile out from the city. "Switch to foot travel," I shouted over the sound of the hooves. Hopefully if we started walking now we would be able to stand without wobbling by the time the darkspawn were on us. At some point, after our rushed exist from the Keep, I had calmed considerably. I was still convinced I might not live through the day, but it didn't bother me. I was in the same cold state of eerie calm I'd had during the siege of Denerim. Loghain had called it 'the serenity of war,' and I had yet to think of a more apt description.
Leaving our horses at an abandoned farm we went on foot towards the city. Smoke already filled the sky, and I could hear the sound of metal on metal in the distance. Darkspawn had started to overrun the small farms outside the city walls. Once they were dispatched a farmer ran out of one of the homesteads. "Please, Grey Wardens" he shouted to us, "save my family, my family is in the city!" A guard was all but shoving the man aside before I could even respond. I glanced at him and recognized him as the head of the city guards, the one who couldn't manage to get to the bottom of a smuggling ring I had cleared out in a single day with only Anders, Nathaniel and Oghren. Incompetent, I thought to myself. And now rude to villagers as well. I wasn't impressed with the city's guard forces so far.
The guard told the man to calm down, saying he had to speak to me. He didn't even bother trying to reassure the poor man. I could feel my jaw clench. Thankfully, Sigrun grabbed the man by the sleeve before he could walk away and spoke to him in low, reassuring tones.
"Warden Commander," the guard addressed me, ignoring the others, "I'm glad you arrived when you did, but I fear there is little that can be done now." I blinked.
"Weren't you in charge of Amaranthine's defense?" I asked him coolly, folding my arms across my chest.
He admitted to failing in his duty, which was patently obvious from the state of the city and the smoke already stinging my eyes. The guard then went on to claim there had been no chance for success. "A couple of nights ago a swarm of gruesome creatures emerged from beneath the city," he began, adding that the darkspawn did not follow until later. I gasped.
Although he was still talking I had stopped listening at this point. The words 'beneath the city,' caught my attention. The smugglers' tunnels. The same tunnels I had told him about, with a warning that they had to be sealed off. "A couple of nights ago?" I all but shouted. "Why wasn't I informed until today??"
Instead of answering me the guard only insisted that the city was completely lost.
"Lost? The city still stands!"
"The buildings might remain, but there will be few survivors after those creatures appeared." Ah, an optimist as well, apparently. He was wrong, of course. Most of Denerim had fled before the Darkspawn arrived, thanks to Alistair sensing them approaching, but thousands remained unable to leave. Those that locked themselves in their homes, barricading the doors, mostly survived. Darkspawn didn't have the skill or patience to pick locks when so much easier prey was unencumbered. Although the corruption and was contagious and incurable, it was only so through direct contact. Anyone who locked themselves inside would be safe.
Another guard ran over to us as I put my hand up for quiet, sensing the darkspawn. He pointed out a solitary darkspawn approaching, one of the new talking hurlocks. The archers took aim, but seeing he had his arms extended in a gesture of peace, weapons sheathed, I called for them to stand down.
The darkspawn called out to us as he approached, saying he had a message for the Grey Wardens from the Architect. I shuddered. It didn't get any better. In a voice that sounded like gravel stirred through mud the darkspawn went on to tell us that the forces of the Mother had split themselves, attacking Vigil's Keep after we left. Figures, I thought grimly. He insisted we return home and fight the darkspawn there before facing the mother in her lair.
Not sodding likely, I thought to myself. Hole up in our home and leave the world outside to destruction? Weisshaupt wouldn't even have to take the time to remove me as Commander if I did that, I'd throw myself on my own damn sword in shame. If anyone could defend the Keep it was Nathaniel, he suspected an attack as well as I did when we learned of the size of the force moving on the city. Not only was it his family home for centuries, but his pregnant sister had just arrived that morning with her husband as well. Our walls were built by the best dwarven crafters on the surface, and Master Wade had equipped each of our troops with silverite armor. The Keep would stand, and my presence there wouldn't change things one way or another.
"Why were you sent to warn us?" I asked him.
"The architect wishes to have the Grey Wardens' trust. He does not wish to see the Mother succeed." Our trust, I thought, shocked. Well, holding us captive for a week was a great building block for that relationship. I still didn't know what had been done to me there, come to think of it. I wondered, deep down, if I'd end up hitting my calling in five years instead of thirty or some other horrifying possibility.
That was all it took for the guards. They began to insist I leave, saying we should burn the city, of all things. "You can't be considering this!" Anders fumed. "Burning a city that has survived generations? Trade will be crippled without Amaranthine!"
Oghren snorted. "Wake up, boy. You're talking about stone and mortar. You want to destroy the Wardens for a bunch of rocks?"
"This is wrong," Anders countered. "And if there's even one innocent person in there… we can't- we can't just-" his words trailed off, he was too angry to speak.
I shook my head. "I'm not giving up on Amaranthine. There will be survivors. Thousands survived the siege of Denerim, I won't have the people here die on my order." Oghren glared at me. "I trust Nathaniel to lead the defense of the Keep, four more people there won't make any difference, you know that." He finally nodded grudgingly.
"I stand with the commander," Sigrun added, over the protests of the guard. "We must try to save Amaranthine. That's what Grey Wardens do, we protect people."
The darkspawn protested, nearly frantic. "If you stay the Mother will get what she wants," he insisted.
He presented this as though we could only side with the Mother or side with the Architect. I cast a glance to the archer. She released a quick shot, and the messenger was down. Anders looked at me sharply but Oghren and Sigrun both nodded with approval. I toyed with the idea, very briefly, of telling him to fight with us. If I had I wouldn't have been able to sense the darkspawn cloaking themselves in shadows because of his proximity. If I ordered someone to tie him up they would end up catching the darkspawn corruption. Letting him go about his way was never an option, I'm a Warden, not a Chantry sister. "I'm not picking sides," I said, walking to the city gates, "we kill them all."
We started seeing survivors within feet of the gates, fighting off darkspawn in the very streets. "The city is lost?" I muttered between spells? "Doesn't look like it to me." Even in Denerim we only saw people in the streets briefly, and that was in the alienage, where everyone assumed they would be left to their own defenses.
"Aye, they're putting up a good fight," Oghren said, respect in his voice. "That guard didn't know what he was talking about." I agreed, forcing myself not to imagine those same people bravely fighting for their homes burning to death in the streets.
Not only was the rest of the guard force, excluding the completely useless captain, out fighting, but many civilians were as well. I even saw the dwarven weapon merchant standing on top of his stall, crossbow in hand, shooting off bolt after bolt almost as fast as Nathaniel could manage with a normal shortbow. He raised a hand to me in as we approached before returning to his work. "Wardens," he bellowed once the immediate danger had passed, "awful glad to see you!"
"Awful glad to be seen," I responded, grasping his wrist in greeting. "How are you holding up?"
He shrugged, confessing to a few injuries. Anders healed him without prompting and I told him to take shelter. "Most folks have run, but a good number are in the Chantry," he told me.
"Give us time to clear a path and then make your way there," I ordered him. "We don't need you surrounded and running out of bolts, or out here alone after dark." He protested, but I waved my hand. "It wasn't an invitation. You're a skilled man; we need you to live to fight another day."
He nodded at this. "Warden, you should have been born Warrior Caste." I chuckled at the idea of a dwarven mage and wished him luck as we moved on.
We reached the Chantry several hours after nightfall, starving and exhausted. The city had been cleared of the darkspawn, and I couldn't sense any in the area. However, none of us were in any condition to fight further. We were all bleeding from minor injuries, and Anders was sagging from the strain of healing all of the severe ones. A guard ran down to meet us. "Warden Commander," he greeted me, bowing in salute. "We have received word of another wave of darkspawn approaching the city. They will be here within the day."
"The streets are cleared for now. What do you suggest?" I asked him. He looked at our bloody clothes and directed us to the Chantry. Survivors had holed up there, along with the militia's base of operations. He offered to search out the rest of the survivors while we rested and resupplied.
I thanked him and pushed the heavy doors open. People crowded every inch of the floor, sleeping on makeshift bedrolls or the stone itself. Those few who took note of our entrance looked relieved. The priest who had spoken to Anders and me on our last visit to the city ran over to us accompanied by a man from the militia, both looking almost as exhausted as we were. To my shock, she embraced me and then Anders, paying no attention to the blood covering us. "Maker bless you!" she exclaimed, a look of profound relief on her face. "Please, tell me what you need, our supplies are at your disposal!"
We checked our stores. Anders motioned to me and opened his belt pouch, where he kept lyrium. It was empty. "Thank you, Sister. Rest and food at the moment, but we will need supplies if we want to continue fighting tomorrow." She nodded. "Health poultices, primarily."
I glanced around, seeing several templars within hearing range. They were already watching us, but with no obvious hostility. At least, no more hostility than they would give to any mage. I lowered my voice to a whisper. "We are also out of lyrium. Anders is a healer, that's particularly draining. We wouldn't make it very far without resupplying." She gave me a knowing glance and a nod. The lyrium trade was strictly regulated. As far as most people knew, it went from Orzammar directly to Circle tower. Few realized every Chantry had their own supplies in addition to what was given to mages- mostly because few realized the Chantry kept templars loyal and in check by addicting them all to the substance.
"The Revered Mother has left," the priest said. "You are welcome to use her quarters. I'll have food sent, and your supplies ready by morning."
"Yes, I saw her at the Keep before we left," I said, hoping she would tell me why the woman would abandon her flock at a time like this. She gestured us to follow, closing the door after we had entered the back bedroom.
The priest sighed. "I assumed as much. She said something about wanting to be there when the nobles saw 'that maleficar and her pet apostate for what they really are.' I am sorry."
"'Pet apostate,'" Anders exclaimed, clearly offended.
I gasped. That was actually worse than the cowardice I had assumed inspired her appearance. "What did she expect me to do? Giggle and clap my hands at the death and destruction?"
"Something like that, I imagine. She hoped they would rise up against you on the spot."
"Good luck with that plan," Oghren snorted. "Maggie's got most of those prissy nobles eating from her hand."
"Maker's breath," I muttered, and apologized hastily. Taking the name of god in vain in a Chantry wouldn't win me any points.
The priest only chuckled, patting my arm. "Believe me, that is not even the worst thing I've heard in the last hour. You four get cleaned up, I'll have food sent back to you. Wardens eat a good deal, yes? I'll make sure it's sufficient." I thanked her again. "If you need anything please don't hesitate to ask," she added. "I'm Sister Moira."
"Named for the Rebel Queen?" I asked, curious.
"You know your history," she said, smiling. "My father was a knight in her service. He died in the attack that killed her while my mother was still with child." I had been wondering how she became a priest at her age; she looked to be several years younger than I was. That story would make her a couple years older than Anders. Being nice must keep you looking young, I thought to myself as she left.
A knock at the door revealed two young boys with buckets of hot water, followed by another carrying food. Sigrun and I grabbed a bucket and our packs and skirted behind a bookcase, Oghren and Anders did likewise with the other across the room. "Hey!" Sigrun shouted towards them, annoyed.
I had expected an excuse from Oghren for peeping, but Anders only piped up with "sorry, sorry. accident." Oghren snorted with laughter and Sigrun cast me a glance, eyebrow raised with surprise. "And you actually have sex with that man?" she asked, mockingly.
I shrugged and grinned. "Every chance I get." She shook her head, laughing.
Anders and I had both dressed in clean robes, hair hanging loose around our shoulders, my dark hair several inches longer than his golden locks. Sigrun and Oghren were in the simple pants and shirts they wore under their armor. Once washed we devoured the food provided with little conversation.
Three cots sat in the middle of the room, the Revered Mother's double bed tucked hidden behind a bookshelf made four. For now we were all sitting on the cots, Anders and I sharing one. "Pet apostate," he muttered again. "Is that how people see me?"
"It's not how I see you," I told him. "I bet she called you that since it was the most insulting thing she could think of." He snorted. "Didn't you tell me to ignore her?"
"I know," he replied. "That's just a bit much, though."
"Ancestor's tits, boy," Oghren piped up. "Even I can see she picked that just to get to you. Don't go getting your robes in a bunch."
"Fine," Anders said, relaxing slightly. "I'd like to know where she got maleficar from, though."
"There have been rumors about me since I joined the Wardens."
"Is this a surfacer thing?" Sigrun asked. I gave her a quick rundown on the Chantry rules on magic.
"So what's the difference between regular magic and blood magic," she asked me.
"Regular magic comes from a mage's internal stores of magical energy. Think of it as stamina, which you can supplement with lyrium when you're worn out. Blood magic is fueled by actual blood, either the mage's or someone else."
"Is that why you sometimes-" I cut her off, waving my hand.
"Warden or not, they'd kill me without hesitation if the templars knew," I warned her, whispering. I nodded fiercely so she understood, and in case any nosey templars were outside the door added, "I'd never do anything like that!" in a loud voice.
"So… that's evil?"
"Usually," Anders said. I gave him a dirty look.
"Magic just is. It's no more evil than a sword or a bow. The morality comes from whoever is casting the spell."
"Maggie has a uniquely charming and naive perspective on this," Anders replied. "I don't think any intentions would make controlling someone's mind or using the blood of another, even an ally, to fuel your own power morally right, and anyone who practices blood magic can learn those skills."
"And I say no moral person would ever think of doing those things in the first place. But using just your own blood, to attack an enemy in battle, when you're otherwise exhausted? That's survival. Besides," I added, "just saying anyone who knows one skill can learn another is silly. Any mage can learn blood magic and therefore the same spells; that is exactly why the Chantry cages us."
"You know we'll never agree on this, Mags," Anders finally said. He had never called me by my nickname before. Maybe it was to soften his words.
"You're right," I agreed. "And this is perhaps the worst place we could be having this conversation."
"Let's get some rest," Sigrun said. "Tomorrow won't be any easier than today. I agreed. The two dwarves proceeded to turn down the bedding on their respective cots while Anders followed me to the Revered Mother's bed. Crawling under the blankets I tried not to think of the woman who usually slept here. Eventually I could hear both Oghren and Sigrun snoring softly from the other side of the bookshelves.
"You're not asleep," Anders whispered, rolling on his side.
"Neither are you," I answered, also keeping my voice quiet so as not to wake the others. "Worried?"
"Hoping we made the right decision." I rolled over, folding myself into his arms.
"Yeah," I said. "I trust everyone we left behind, but I'm so scared we'll get back and find them…"
"Well, nice to see you assume we'll make it back at all," Anders said. "That's an improvement."
"Just not thinking about the alternative," I said honestly.
"Promise me you'll be careful tomorrow," Anders said, holding me closer.
"Only if you promise the same," I said.
"I'm always careful," he insisted. "You're the crazy one." He was running his fingers up and down the side of my neck, an apparently unconscious gesture. I could feel my breath catch.
"I promise," I whispered. "We'll be fine. Once this is over we'll go to Orzammar and-"
"And Denerim," he added. "They'll have a huge party for us, and we'll spend the whole night drinking and dancing." Anders cupped my chin with his hand, raising my face to his so he could kiss me.
"We'll be the talk of the court, especially if we play anyone else at cards." I giggled and slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle the sound. I could still hear snoring. Our eyes met briefly in the darkened room. As if by unspoken agreement we began to shift clothing around.
"Quiet," I whispered in warning. I shifted so I was on my back, and Anders rolled on top of me. He kissed me again, lips soft against mine, to stifle my groan as he slid into me. I moved my hips up, meeting each thrust, arms wrapped around his shoulders.
Anders pulled his lips from mine. He moved slowly, almost maddeningly so, it took all my self control not to gasp and buck my hips against his. We were normally almost frantic, with biting and pulled hair and nails digging into skin, strangled pleas of faster and harder, as though expecting armored footsteps to interrupt us at any moment. This was so gentle, completely different not just from how we usually were, but from anything I would normally desire. I rocked my hips against his, wishing it would never end. "Oh Maker," I gasped so quietly I could barely hear my own voice.
My eyes closed as my head fell back, biting my lip to maintain silence. "Open your eyes," he whispered, voice strained. I looked up and our eyes locked. Anders ran a hand along my jaw and across my cheek, maintaining that same slow pace. Removing a hand from his shoulder I entwined my fingers in his hair, holding it back from his eyes. His fingers traced my mouth, soft as silk against my skin. I kissed them softly before parting my lips, drawing one into my mouth and gently sucking, still holding his gaze. Anders bit his lip to stifle a moan. After a second he moved his hand, tracing the edge of my cheekbone, leaving a damp streak across my face.
Anders slid his arm between us as his pace increased. I gasped and quickly covered my mouth as his fingers began to move against me, first slowly in a circular pattern, then faster, back and forth, matching the speed of his thrusts. Even at his increased pace Anders was moving so slowly, I could feel every inch of him as he slid in and out of me. Oh Maker, Oh Maker, Oh Maker, I thought, not daring to move my hand from over my mouth. My eyes began to close as I lost concentration. "No," Anders whispered, "look at me." I forced them open again, meeting his amber gaze. I could see his breath and mine as frost formed on my hands. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, a catch in his voice. I could see his brows drawing together and knew he was close.
His finger slipped just the tiniest bit lower causing me to gasp again. The chant in my head grew faster as Anders increased his pace. MakerMakerMakerOhAnders I shuddered, biting down on my hand to stifle my cries before dropping my arm back to the pillow, panting soundlessly. Freeing his hand from between us Anders placed his fingertips against my lips once more. I could taste myself on him as I ran my tongue across them. His eyes widened and Anders tensed, moving faster and faster. Collapsing onto me I could hear him gasping against the pillow.
Holding me to him, Anders whispered in my ear, murmuring my name. His words came out in a rush, promises of what we would do after tomorrow, after the battle, spoken so quietly I could barely hear him over the snoring of our companions. We each whispered a final vow to each other before falling into a fitful sleep.
When I remembered the next morning what words Anders had said in my ear as we lay there, clinging to each other on the Revered Mother's bed, I reminded myself people said funny things the night before a battle. I hoped he would assume the same of my reply.