"Do you hear something?" Daveth said. He stopped and stared at the road ahead. The wind rustled through leaves, and a bird sang in the distance.
"'Tis only the sound of Alistair's blubbering," Morrigan said after a moment, curling her lips into a sneer.
"Sod off, Morrigan," Natia snapped. She cocked her head and held her breath. "I hear... growling?"
"Wait," Alistair squinted and pointed. "It's a mabari. There."
The hound came bounding down the road and barked. Natia reached out and scratched its head. It whined and barked again, and spun around, hackles raised.
Alistair stiffened. "Wait, we're not alone… darkspawn!"
An arrow whooshed past Daveth's ear and a small band of hurlocks appeared on the horizon. He cursed as he fumbled for his bow. He loosed an arrow and caught a beast in the arm. Natia and Alistair charged at them. Morrigan unleashed a burst of flames as the hurlocks descended on them and the beasts writhed and screamed.
Soon, the beasts were dead, and the hound came bounding toward them again and jumped excitedly around Natia. The dwarf's face softened as the hound pushed its great head against her hand and groaned.
"I think this is the mabari I helped at Ostagar," Natia said.
Daveth rubbed the back of his neck. "I got chased by a mabari once in Denerim. Scary dogs, if you ask me." The hound growled. "Well, I didn't mean you, specifically!"
"He's not scary!" Alistair chuckled. "I think he was looking for you, Natia. It's called imprinting."
"So, he's chosen me?" Natia's face gave way to a smile. "I guess we shouldn't leave him, then."
"You can't seriously be thinking about taking this… thing with us," Morrigan was disgusted.
"Why not? He could be useful." Daveth said with a shrug.
"And yet we still have Alistair."
"Hey!" Alistair whined.
"Stop it, Morrigan," Natia glared at the witch, color rising to her cheeks. Morrigan narrowed her eyes, but stayed silent. "He can come along if he wants to." The hound bounced around, tongue lolling. The witch threw her hands up in the air and stalked ahead.
Daveth smirked. "Well, he's going to need a name."
Natia thought for a moment. "I think I'll call him Leske."
"What's a Leske?" Daveth raised an eyebrow.
"A dog," she grinned, and her dark eyes sparkled mischievously. Daveth couldn't help but grin back.
Alistair cleared his throat. "Look, we should get moving if we want to reach Lothering before sundown."
Daveth watched as Natia and Morrigan rummaged through crates and suppressed a grin. The dwarf was full of surprises, and letting the bandits go was just one of them. He leaned against the wall and pulled out his small knife, and picked underneath his fingernails.
Alistair walked over to him and sighed. "I can't believe she let them go," he said in a low voice, brow furrowed. "They were bandits! We should have turned them into the authorities."
Daveth glanced at the templar and shrugged. "They were just trying to get by."
"By robbing refugees fleeing from the darkspawn?" Alistair scoffed. "I hardly think that's a noble cause."
"A man's got to take care of his own," Daveth frowned and studied Alistair's face. "I guess you wouldn't understand."
Alistair rubbed his neck and looked at the ground. "I guess not." He turned and looked out at the village of Lothering. "Have you ever been here?"
"Once, after I cut out for Denerim," Daveth nodded, placing his knife back into his belt. "The merchants I hitched a ride with stopped here for supplies. It smelled like shit then, too."
"Oh, is that Lothering?" Alistair laughed. "I thought it was you and I didn't want to hurt your feelings." He looked up and Natia waved them over. "Looks like it's time to go."
Daveth grinned, and they followed the women into the village.
The templar called Ser Bryant told them of Loghain's lies. Officially, the Grey Wardens were traitors, he said. Murderers.
"You will tell no one you saw us, understand?" Natia said urgently. Ser Bryant nodded and quietly wished them luck.
Daveth felt a bitter taste in his mouth and laughed. He was a Grey Warden, and he was still a wanted man. Some things never changed.
The red-headed Chantry sister followed them out of the tavern, her robes torn and bloody. She helped them when Loghain's men attacked, and now she wanted to come along.
"Please, let me help you," she pleaded, her blue eyes welling with tears. "The Maker… I know this is what I am supposed to do!" She looked at each of them. No one spoke. "I know it sounds crazy, but I really want to help. Please."
Daveth looked at Natia and shrugged. "She seems harmless enough, and she was pretty impressive with the blade."
"I say we take her along," Alistair said. "We need all the help we can get."
Natia stared at the sister for a moment and grinned. "Fine. But you're going to have to change your clothes."
They were on their way out of the village when they found the qunari in the cage. He barely had enough room to stand. He was a murderer, he said. He was waiting for death, for atonement.
"We could give you some food and water," Daveth said, frowning.
"Tempting," the qunari said slowly. "But… no. I will not last much longer."
"Is this how you want to die?" Natia asked suddenly.
"I would prefer to die on the battlefield with my sword in my hand."
Daveth scratched his chin and glanced at Natia. "We'll be back."
"We need his help to defeat the Blight," Natia said, her voice low. "Just give us the key, and we'll leave."
The Revered Mother stood up and shook her head violently. "Absolutely not. I cannot let people think that we are aiding the Grey Wardens. And what if the beast kills another family? Their blood will be on my hands just as much as yours."
The dwarf drew herself up and growled. "I think you should reconsider your position. Now."
Morrigan cackled with glee. "Oh, are we threatening priests now? How fun!"
Leliana cried out in protest. "No! You cannot do that!"
"Are you crazy?" Alistair looked appalled. "Mother, please, we – "
"You have the audacity to threaten me, and in a place of worship?" Her face burned red. "I will not stand for this. Leave at once, or I shall call the templars."
Daveth fell to his knees at the Revered Mother's feet. "Mother, forgive me! I never wanted to be a Grey Warden! Please, I beg you… I need your blessing." He clutched at her skirts and sobbed. "Please…"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, child." She pulled herself out of his grip and blessed him. Daveth struggled to his feet, and shoved his hands into his pocket.
"Thank you, Mother," he said thickly. She handed him a handkerchief with pity in her eyes. "Maker watch over you."
Daveth stumbled away from her and made for the door. The others had no choice but to follow. He felt his face pulling into a smile and he covered his face with his hand.
When they were outside, Morrigan turned on him. "Was that little display really necessary?" Her yellow eyes flashed with annoyance and disgust.
Daveth snickered. "No," he said, pulling something out of his pocket. "But I got the key."
The witch smirked and shook her head. Leliana gasped, her face a mixture of shock and anger.
Alistair covered his face with his hand and groaned. "Please tell me you're joking." Daveth shook the key at him and grinned widely. "Oh, Maker…"
And Natia laughed until tears streamed down her face.
They set up camp in the Bannorn, and sat around the campfire. Alistair and Leliana hadn't spoken to him since Lothering, but Natia hadn't stopped laughing. Even Morrigan had cracked a smile. Daveth chuckled to himself and stretched.
"That was some trick with the priest." Natia sat beside him, her hound close on her heels, and handed him a bowl of grey stew. "You'll have to teach me how to do that. The best I can do is pick locks." She watched him eat for a moment. "Alistair thinks we should head to Redcliffe tomorrow. He knows the arl, whatever that is."
Daveth chewed and swallowed. "The arl is like the leader of the city. Nobility."
"Soddin' nobles," Natia grunted, bringing her flagon to her lips. "Anyway, it's not far, I guess. I don't know how you surfacers stand all this… air." She waved her hands and looked up to the sky. "Those are pretty, though."
"They're called stars," he said. He watched her drink and her eyes flickered over him. Pretty eyes that glittered in the moonlight, with specks of brown and gold, and there was a streak of white in her otherwise black hair. Why hadn't he noticed that before?
"What are you looking at?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Her tattoos danced on her skin when she spoke.
Daveth cleared his throat and felt his face grow hot. "Er, nothing." He shoved another spoonful of stew in his mouth. "Sad about Duncan, eh?"
Natia laid her head on her knees. "Yeah, he seemed like a good man. Alistair's taking it pretty hard. Guess he was like a father to him or something." She leaned down and scratched Leske behind his ears, and the hound groaned. "Were you close to your dad?"
Daveth scoffed and reached for his water. "Only when he thought I needed a beating." He drank deeply and wiped his mouth. "My ma was alright. She died of a cough when I was ten. My old man took it out on me, and I cut out for Denerim as soon as I could. What about your family?"
"My mom started drinking as soon as my dad ran off. She probably doesn't even know I'm gone." Natia tossed a stick into the fire. "And my sister sells her body to keep her alive." She laughed bitterly.
They sat in silence for awhile, listening to the crackling of the flames and the mabari's snoring. Every so often Daveth would steal a glance at her, and at least once he caught her doing the same.
"Well," she said after awhile. "I'm going to sleep for a bit." Natia pushed herself to her feet and disappeared into her tent. The hound sat outside and whined. A moment later she opened the flap. "Well, come on." The hound barked and followed her inside.
Daveth rubbed his brow and his thoughts turned to Jory, the coward. If Loghain's men found out what he was... no, it was best not to think about that. Besides, the knight would have had enough sense to cut out for Highever when he got the chance. At least, he hoped he would. He frowned and watched the flames flicker and climb.
It took them most of the next day to reach Redcliffe. The once bustling highway was a wasteland, and it gave Daveth pause. It had just been a few months since he was here with Duncan and the knight.
Alistair seemed to grow more agitated the closer they came to the city. Daveth glanced back at him and frowned. Soon, they reached the village, and the castle rose impressively in the distance.
"I need to talk to you all," Alistair blurted suddenly. "I told you how Arl Eamon raised me, right? Well, I'm a bastard and my father was… King Maric."
Daveth burst into laughter and clapped the templar on the back. "Good one, Alistair. You almost had me there."
"I'm not joking," Alistair replied miserably. "My mother was a serving girl at the castle and the Arl took me in as a favor to the king."
Natia looked at Alistair with an odd look on her face. "Why are you telling us this now?"
"I didn't want to tell you at all, but I thought it might come up." Alistair shuffled his feet awkwardly and rubbed his neck. "It never meant anything to me, and I'm certainly not fit to rule. I just… I didn't want it to be a surprise is all." No one moved. "Well, we should get a move on, I guess."
"As you command, my prince," Daveth said with a smirk. Alistair rolled his eyes and walked ahead of the group.
"He does look like King Maric, don't you think?" Leliana whispered excitedly. "I can just imagine him sitting on the throne."
Daveth laughed, and they followed the road into the village.