The Keening Blade
Chapter 11: The Hero of Just About Everything. Again.
How pleasant it would have been, Loghain thought, if after slaying the Archdemon, he could have fallen unconscious for a day or two, and had not had to deal with the messy aftermath of the horde's invasion.
A day or two? A week would have been better. As it was, he had to get up, pull himself together, and start giving orders, because everybody was looking at him.
Between them, the dwarves and the Dalish were finishing off the last of the darkspawn. Some of the monsters, disoriented and mindless from the lost of their leader, threw themselves from the roof.
Maude ran over to see.
"Look out below!" She shrugged, and muttered, "Hope they heard me. That would be a really stupid way to die."
She looked past Loghain, and then cocked a brow at him. He turned at her gesture and saw the goggling troops who had emerged on to the top of Fort Drakon, apparently just in time to see Loghain standing over a dead Archdemon.
"Perhaps you should say a few words?" she suggested. "Take a bow? They're looking quite impressed."
He grunted and called out to the awestruck soldiers, "Yes, that's the Archdemon. Yes, it's dead. Gather the darkspawn corpses and pile them…there. Don't get the blood on your bare skin. We'll have the mages burn them on the spot. Look for any surviving defenders, and we'll get them some healing."
The Keening Blade was still lodged in the Archdemon's skull. Loghain put his boot on the beast's head and pulled, long and slow, and with a grating of metal against bone, he drew the sword free. A ragged edge of a dead soldier's shirt was sufficient to wipe it clean. He sheathed it with a feeling of utter completion.
Maude was looking a little sulky, he thought. Well, too bad. He had claimed his forfeit, and got his revenge on her for cheating at the Landsmeet. Besides, what did it really matter who did the dragonslaying, as long as the Archdemon was dead?
Morrigan sat by the body of Avernus, her face unreadable. Wynne was giving quick orders for clean, unused casks. Loghain was grateful for her efficiency. Avernus had given her a task to do, and she was about it.
She was saying, "Now, let me have a look at your shoulder, Zevran—no—don't touch it…"
Some of the men were doing as they were told, but quite a few were still staring at him. A few old veterans looked like they were actually about to shed tears.
One burst out, "Maker bless you, my lord! I always knew you'd save us!"
Wynne rolled her eyes, but the man's words were seconded, loudly and enthusiastically, and then the silly fellows raised a ragged cheer. Surprisingly, the dwarves and the Dalish started cheering too.
Maude smiled tightly, standing at his side, looking bloody but ornamental. Oghren was grinning, and the qunari sat cleaning his own blade, taking it all in. The dog came up to Loghain on his other side, tail wagging, and gave a cheerful bark. The men cheered again at the classic Fereldan scene. Or rather, the scene Loghain knew, with crawling dread, that was destined to be a Ferelden classic.
"That's enough!" Loghain shouted, interrupting the orgy of self-congratulation. "We have work to do."
A party of men was chosen to go back down into the fort and try to contact any possible survivors. If the beings behind the barred doors were human, and not darkspawn, they were to go down to the kitchen, rouse the cooks, and provide food for everyone.
Another party was to go to the medical supply rooms, and bring up poultices and some litters. The clouds were gathering, and it was starting to look like rain. They must get the wounded below, out of the weather and into the big conference room. The dead would laid out as far from them as possible.
"We should try to contact whoever is in the Palace," Maude suggested quietly. "Behind twenty feet of stone they might not have seen the fireworks."
"True," he approved, and gave the order to the waiting soldiers. "I want a dozen men to go to the Palace. The doors are barred there. See if anything human is alive, and tell them to stay there if they're safe. If you meet any significant resistance, come back here immediately. We'll be along directly."
"And what of him?" Morrigan demanded, yellow eyes blazing. She was pointing at the dead Avernus. "Is he to be forgotten and thrown aside?"
Maude went over to Morrigan. Pulling off her gauntlet, she put her hand on the witch's shoulder, murmuring comfort.
"Of course not," Loghain said impatiently. He turned to a pair of worshiping soldiers. "You—and you. Warden Avernus was killed. Carry him to the small staff office below, and put a guard on the body. He deserves a special memorial."
"Poor old sod," muttered one of the soldiers, bending over to pick up the mage's shattered body. "Imagine an old geezer like him having the stones to face the Archdemon!"
"Who's she?" whispered his mate, jerking his head at Morrigan. "Reckon she's his daughter?"
"Granddaughter, more like…"
Everyone was starving. Not just the Wardens, who were always starving, but really everyone.
A large force had barricaded itself in the dungeons, and opened the door to a world without the Blight.
"Teyrn Loghain slew the Archdemon! It's over!"
The news was passed from mouth to mouth, and there were shouts, joyful exclamations, slaps on the back, and everyone fell to work to celebrate, or at least, to pick up the pieces. Food and water were provided, and laid out in the big dining hall on the second floor.
Being a proper fortress, there was a deep well below Fort Drakon, protected by the rock of the dungeons. A bucket brigade busily sent water up to the kitchen and beyond, for the defenders were thirsty, of course, but also filthy and reeking to a degree that eating in their presence would be so repulsive as to defeat the purpose, so to speak.
Luckily, Maude was too busy to follow up on her first impulse, which was to go down to the dungeons herself.
"It would have been nice," she snarked bitterly, "had those dungeons guards actually manned up and fought the darkspawn. Of course, guarding naked, caged prisoners is ever so much more important."
"Don't go down there, Maude," Loghain said, his voice for her ears only.
"I suppose I already have enough to do. If I saw anybody down there I recognized, I'd kill them, and that would spoil the celebratory mood, I daresay." She ran off briefly, with Lanaya and some of the Dalish, to retrieve Sandal from his wardrobe, and then found a reliable dwarf to look after him until he could be reunited with his father.
After that, she scrubbed her face and neck again. Her helmet had protected her hair from the worst of the filth, but any exposed area was a map of dust and blood—and worse. Loghain had already washed, but knew nothing but a hot bath would clear away everything. Maybe two or three hot baths.
Leliana was carefully washing Riordan, and Maude brought a bucket of fresh water over to her. Maude wanted to keep Riordan with them, and Loghain was feeling generous enough to let her have her way in small things. The soldiers could carry him on the litter until the fellow could manage for himself. Zevran had been wounded, but with Oghren's help, was getting about well enough. Loghain was feeling superlatively well himself, but Wynne and Avernus had healed him throughout the battle, and of course, there had been the matter of the Ashes of Andraste...
"You should take care of yourself, too," Maude said to Leliana, a clean linen rag in her hand. "Here—let me…Wynne, come here, will you? Leliana has a cut on her neck."
"It's nothing," Leliana insisted.
"It's bleeding, now that I washed away the dirt," Maude contradicted.
Wynne busy with some soldiers at the other end of the room, fired a quick healing spell Leliana's way. It glittered briefly, and the skin healed over.
"That's convenient," Maude muttered, and then called, "Thank you!" to the healer.
There was food at last: huge cauldrons of the heavy stew that was always on the simmer at Fort Drakon, but was today watered down to a soup, to feed the multitudes of human, elven, and dwarven warriors. There were stacks of wooden bowls and spoons, and the surviving servants hurried over with the first helpings to the Wardens and their party, standing around, gawking at Loghain in frank adoration. Maude sighed, and quietly sipped her soup.
"This isn't bad!" Oghren said, soup dripping from his moustache.
Zevran agreed, feeling much better for the food. "Today, anything would be fit for the Queen of Antiva!" He considered his soup. "Well, maybe with a bit more garlic. And oregano. And a touch of tarragon."
"And some mushrooms," grinned Riordan, wincing as he sat up slowly.
"Mushrooms are good," agreed Zevran. "And of course in Antiva, this would not be made of old ox, but of a delightful blend of fish and mussels and maybe some octopus, yes? A little white wine in the broth. And some crusty bread with olive oil."
"Olive oil," murmured Sten, a little regretfully. "Yes, bread with olive oil is excellent."
"Olives do not grow in this climate." Leliana sighed. "But they do make very good butter and cheese in Ferelden."
"And cookies," Sten added. "Many varieties. It is one of the most attractive features of this land."
"Nan used to—" Maude began, and then said, "We'll have to write down some recipes for you to take home. They might impress the arishok even more than your answer to their questions about the Blight!"
"That is indeed possible," Sten agreed. "The Blight is over, and information about it will indeed be of great value and interest to the arishok, but the cookies will be of benefit to all the qunari people!"
Morrigan scoffed at that: a "Hmph!" of wordless disdain. She was sitting a little apart, as she often did. Maude took her bowl with her and sat down by her friend, then pulled something from under her armor.
"Avernus left something for you, Morrigan." It appeared to be letter with something inside. Morrigan immediately broke the seal, and out tumbled a small, corked flask. She moved away, and read the letter, her face turned aside.
"You too, Loghain," Maude said, passing him some folded, sealed parchment.
"Sharing your loot again?" he asked.
"There's no need to be nasty about it. I'm giving you the letter he left you. What? You think I should have let some soldier go through his things and throw his letters away? Of course I searched his body. Wouldn't you rather be searched by a friend than a stranger? I know I would. If I die, you have my whole-hearted permission to go through my pockets."
"And I'm sure you'd do the same for me."
"Of course I would."
"Was there something for anyone else?"
"He left me a ring, with a note attached. A ring of Sophia's that he wanted me to have. He said I should remember that anything I saw at the Peak wasn't Sophia, and how much she would have hated to be remembered like that. I know that demon wasn't Sophia, but I can't blame him for wanting to be sure. It's a lovely ring, too, and it fits. Just like her armor."
She slipped it on, heavy gold with a large ruby set into it. The ruby was smoothed into a domed cabochon, with a rayed star gleaming in its depths.
"I've heard of star sapphires, though I've never seen one. This must be a star ruby. Isn't it pretty? Rubies are nice and hard, too, so I can wear it all the time. It was kind of Avernus to think of me, and tell me to be a good girl and all, and how to find the rest of the funds at Soldier's Peak. I expect you want to read your letter."
Loghain did, and pushed his empty soup bowl away.
Loghain—
Apparently, I am dead. Since I am dead, I presume that our young Maude has pinched this from my corpse, which is just as I planned. If you are reading this, then you have survived, which was also my plan. I could not know for certain if my spell to attract the essence of the Archdemon to myself would be effective, but hundreds of years of experience does tend to make one reasonably confident of one's abilities.
No doubt you will have to explain all this to Weisshaupt. I have enclosed my notes for the spell, written in Arcanum, for the rest of the Warden mages to ponder. The rest of the world need not know. I desire nothing more than oblivion. Let the glory be yours, for you will make more of it than I ever could!
I urge you to be kind to that young woman of yours. The potion you drank may give you more years than you would otherwise expect, and you would do well to share those years with a well-disposed companion. I know whereof I speak, having spent over a century with only ghosts and demons for company.
The Archdemon may be dead, but the darkspawn are not annihilated. What will follow is the period known as the "Thaw," in which the land continues to be plagued by the surviving darkspawn drawn to the surface by the Archdemon. Thaws can last for decades. It would be desirable if the period were as brief as possible, and to that end you will no doubt wish to rebuild the Wardens. This is the perfect opportunity to see that the Grey Wardens of Ferelden are indeed-Fereldan.
Do not neglect to recruit some intelligent mages. You can put the word out discreetly that apostates are welcome. We tried this in my day and had quite a satisfactory response. My notes concerning that and some other matters are at Soldier's Peak, in a niche under my work table. You may wish this information to be particular to the Ferelden Grey Wardens. If you wish to share them with the Order at large, that is your decision.
I must point out that Morrigan is a very intelligent and capable mage, now that she is free of her "mother." In fact, as there is a possibility that Flemeth is only temporarily in abeyance, you might suggest that being a Grey Warden would tend to reduce the chances that Flemeth would wish to inhabit her body. What Flemeth cannot know is the degree to which my improved potion mitigates some of the worst effects of the Joining. I have given Morrigan a dose, which will only be of use to her if she consents to Join us. She knows my thoughts on this.
A pity I cannot live to see the changes Maude will make to Soldier's Peak! Were I to return as a spirit, it is probable that I should not recognize the place, and that is as it should be. It is time for the Grey Wardens of Ferelden to enter a new era, and it is only fitting that their dwelling reflect the changing times.
While you became a Warden unwillingly, you cannot deny that it was the Hand of Destiny, and a benevolent Hand indeed, since it has saved the country we both love. There is no one more fitted to carry on the great and unending struggle than you. The tainted cup that threatened death has instead given you victory, glory, and love.
I'm not deaf, you know.
Farewell, my young brother,
Avernus
A stir on the stairs and a messenger arrived with his report. Loghain tucked his letter away for later consideration. The red-faced courier was bursting with good news.
"My lord, we made it to the Palace! There are some darkspawn here and there in the streets, but they're on the run. We got to the Palace and pounded and yelled a bit, and then Dougal threw a rock through a window with a note attached. So they unbarred the doors, and what do you think! There are hundreds of people—maybe a thousand! - sheltering in the Landsmeet Chamber! Only a few darkspawn made it into the Palace itself, and the Palace Guard held them off! Some of the City Guard was there, too. We passed on your orders to stay put, and told them the good news!"
Loghain frowned. Not because he was displeased, but because he was thinking. And while he was thinking, Maude had something to say.
"Using the Landsmeet Chamber to protect the common folk? What a good idea! No one in the Palace Guard could possibly have come up with that one!"
Wynne would not be going with them. Between tending to the injured and collecting blood, she felt she could not leave Fort Drakon that day, and asked that when other mage healers arrived, they would be sent to assist her.
"Well, I think we should go to the Palace," Maude declared. "I bloody well don't want to sleep in Fort Drakon tonight!"
They left soon after: a mixed party of Wardens and their companions, plus the Dalish and a small unit of dwarves. If it had been like a story book, the Sun would have burst forth to join in the celebration. This was Ferelden, however, and it was just starting to mizzle a bit as they headed to the Palace. Now and then Morrigan cast a fire spell to immolate the darkspawn dead lying heaped in the King's Road.
"That'll will probably keep the mages busy for at least a week," Oghren remarked cheerfully. "Lends a certain fragance to the proceedings."
"I will admit that it has for the moment entirely masked the smell of wet dog," said Sten. After a while he added, "It is not an improvement."
Ranger agreed.
Magical healing was a wonder, and Riordan was now able to get along, helped by Leliana. The Dalish had elected to come with them, for Lanaya wanted to connect with the rest of the clans, and also send archers to see that the alienage for secure for the night. She and Maude were talking about the alienage now, in soft voices. Loghain tried not to listen. His conscience was not entirely clear where the alienage was concerned.
Four times along their route a few isolated darkspawn leaped out at them, only to be shot down instantly by Dalish arrows. Loghain had drawn his sword, but did not need to use it. It was practically a holiday—with darkspawn.
Ahead they could see the palace, and that the wide doors were opening. A few people in armor came out, and starting shouting and waving, and then appeared to be shouting and waving at the people inside. More emerged: a sizable number. Most were waving, too.
"They look very happy to see us," said Zevran. "That is a pleasant change."
"Keep your weapons handy." Maude's cynical tone surprised Loghain. "Usually people are only happy to see us when they're in mortal danger."
"They don't look frightened," Leliana said. "It looks...more like a party!"
"A party?" Sten was intrigued. "Perhaps there will be cake!"
Loghain recognized a tall, slim, and armored figure at the top of the steps, and his stride lengthened. He felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. So she had survived. Relief, guilt, and pride washed over him. He had no eyes for the others standing beside her.
But Maude had. She halted briefly, and then matched her stride to Loghain's. He glanced at her, and saw that she was staring at the crowd before them, eyes huge and tearful. He was faintly concerned to see that she actually looked...frightened.
And then cheering started up again. Who was here to greet them? Cauthrien, of course, looking like she'd like him to give her an order. But who was that she was standing next to, in that way that she had that expressed "loyal subordinate" so perfectly?
Bloody hell!
Ranger began barking madly. With a wry grin, the big, shaggy fellow in armor opened his arms. Maude dashed forward to embrace her brother, crying, "Fergus! Fergus!"
From what Loghain could gather so far, Fergus Cousland really had saved much of what had been saved in Denerim. Above all, he had saved lives.
Allowing the refugees to shelter in the Landsmeet Chamber was Fergus Cousland's idea, apparently. The place stank of stale sweat and human waste. What it did not reek of was hopelessness. Some attempt had been made to feed the people, and that only added to the smell and confusion. A roar went up as the Wardens and their companions entered: cheers and tears and grateful cries; soldiers good-naturedly holding back the press of people wanting to thank them...thank him...to assure him of their undying gratitude and loyalty.
The girl beside him was frankly crying, clutching at her brother's hand. Cauthrien was talking quickly and urgently, giving him her report of the past week. It would take some time to digest it.
Eamon had left no one left in overall command, perhaps fearing to create a rival. It was all confusion...The commander of Fort Drakon had not been given authority over the rest of the city...Certain things within the purview of the Arl of Denerim simply had not been done...The rest of the nobility was either with the Queen's Army, or had fled north on horseback, or had taken ship...The scene at the docks had been a nightmare, and many people had been crushed in the panic...the Archdemon had blown the Great Gate apart, and the horde had swarmed in...there was nothing to do but to withdraw...
To his other side, he could hear Fergus Cousland telling his sister his own story: "I got here two days ago, riding hard to warn the city. I didn't know what else to do, so I came here to the Palace to offer my services. What a mess! The commander of the City Guard, the commander of the Palace Guard, the commander of Fort Drakon, and the docks captain were all locked in this mad power struggle. Two of the bastards actually pretended not to know me! Luckily, Ser Calador, the commander here, had a bit of sense. Cauthrien's been a tower of strength. I don't know if you know this new friend of mine, Sergeant Kylon..."
"Yes, of course!" The girl reached over to shake the other man's hand. "Of course I recognize you, Sergeant! I'm so glad to see you alive!"
Cauthrien caught the end of Fergus' narrative, and nodded. "Calador was killed this morning, when the darkspawn broke through the servant's entrance. We had a hard fight of it, but then the darkspawn just pulled back and rushed off, as if they'd been summoned elsewhere."
Leliana sighed. "The darkspawn had been summoned elsewhere," she murmured.
Loghain could still not quite recollect where he had seen the City Guardsman. Maude whispered, "That's Sergeant Kylon. He's very nice. He threw lots of Guard work my way when I was a starving rebel."
Loghain had only a moment to glare at the man. The massive crowd in the Landsmeet Chamber was clamoring for his attention. In between cheers were cries and questions:
"-Here now, my lord, when can we go home?"
"-Are the darkspawn all dead?"
"-Where's the Queen? Is she all right?"
"-Is it true that the mages are in league with the darkspawn?"
"-Oi! I heard it was them elves that were in league with 'em!"
"-I heard it was both!"
"-The Chantry closed its doors and locked them, my lord! Locked us clean out! Is that right, I ask you?"
"Enough!" Loghain bellowed. "Stay here tonight! The streets have not yet been made safe. Tomorrow we will search the city for any surviving darkspawn. When you do leave, be careful not to touch the darkspawn dead. Their blood is deadly poison. Yes, the Queen is safe. She is with the main body of the army, and must have reached the city by now. Another large force is at the Great Gate, keeping the remains of the horde out of the city."
There were murmurs, as people were soothed and began to settle down.
Loghain went on. "Our allies have been instrumental in our victory: the Dalish elves, the mages, and the dwarves of Orzammar! Mages, in fact, will be along to burn the bodies of the darkspawn. It is the only safe way to dispose of them. Obey the Queen's officers, and keep the peace. This night may be long, but the worst is over!"
And then they cheered him again. Fergus Cousland and Cauthrien cheered as loud as the rest.
Cauthrien led the way up the stairs to the Council Chamber, its broad, long table as polished bright as ever. It seemed centuries ago that Maude had vaulted it and jumped out the window, to Maric's amusement…
She did not look likely to play any such pranks at the moment. Besides, the mullioned windows were shut fast against the rain. Water sheeted down the glass, Drops became rivulets, rivulets torrents. Thunder crashed distantly, and the rain came down harder.
"Thank the Maker!" Fergus said. "That should put out most of the fires."
"And scour away some of the filth…" his sister murmured. Loghain hesitated to take his old chair, but then decided that it was very likely the last time he would be here, so why not? Maude automatically took the chair next to him, something that was not lost on her brother, or on Cauthrien. The other companions shed bits of armor and slumped into the seats with relief.
In the corridor outside, the seneschal, his hair unkempt and standing straight up, conferred distractedly with some servants. He issued frantic commands, and the servants nodded and agreed or complained and made excuses.
The big city map was called for, and in the interim, Maude made the introductions.
"Fergus, I want you to meet my friends, and very good friends they are: Morrigan, Leliana, Riordan who is a Warden from Orlais, but who was born in Highever—"
"Where?" Fergus asked the man, his attention caught by the name of home.
"Highever City itself, my lord, in Lutestring Lane,"
"Really?" Fergus smiled. "Well met!"
"Lutestring Lane!" Leliana murmured. "How charming!"
Riordan shook his head, smiling. "Not really. That's were the tanneries are!"
Maude went on. "…and this is Sten of the Beresaad, and this is Zevran Aranai from Antiva.."
Fergus' smile faltered for a moment, and then became warmer. He nodded affably at the elf.
"…And this is Oghren, who came with us all the way from Orzammar. Two of our companions are not here. Our healer, Wynne, remained at Fort Drakon to treat the wounded. And Warden Avernus…"
"-was killed," Morrigan said, crisp and bitter.
"I'm very sorry," Fergus said kindly to her. "We've all born our share of losses."
Morrigan shrugged ungraciously, but the gesture was lost in the bustle of the seneschal..
"I beg your pardon, my lord," He said to Loghain, his bearing not nearly as pompous as usual, "but as the Palace is so full, I wondered if the Warden and her companions would object to staying in the old Grey Warden compound. It is not in the best condition, and has been used for storage for some—"!
"The Warden Compound!" cried Maude. "I've always wanted to see it! Oh, yes! That's splendid!"
Fergus looked a little taken aback at such boldness, and the seneschal's eyes widened, but Loghain agreed to it at once.
"Evidently that is a popular idea. Prepare the place as best you can…and Revere…" Loghain said gravely.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I am not 'your lord,' but a Warden as well, so I will stay there too. See to it."
The seneschal looked near tears. "Yes, my lor—Warden."
"Do you have anything to drink around here?" wondered Oghren. Fergus Cousland grinned at him.
Loghain jerked his head at the seneschal, who scurried off.
The big map of the city was spread out on the table, and they sat over it for some time, planning for first light.
Fergus and Cauthrien had sent scouts out themselves. One party had made it to the Alienage, to discover that the elves were still alive and defended by a few dwarves and a number of somewhat hostile Dalish elves who had told the scouts bluntly that they were allies of the Warden, and not of any shemlen queen. The Alienage Bridge had been destroyed, but Loghain already knew that.
Another party had gone north to see if they could get through to the Gate, and had discovered the darkspawn had destroyed both of those bridges. Loghain had thought the defenders had done that, but apparently not. Considering how ill-coordinated the defense had been, he should not be surprised.
Another party had not returned at all. That was not surprising, either.
Fort Drakon was secure, he could tell them in his turn. The grain stores beneath it were safe, but what had happened to the other granaries was anyone's guess.
"Has anybody had a look at what's going on at the Arl of Denerim's estate?" Maude asked. "The darkspawn might have fortified it."
"We don't know," Fergus told her. "But we should definitely have a look tomorrow."
Loghain considered. "We need the estate. It would be a place to house a great many of the allies."
Plans to scout and then move on the estate were made; and then hot spiced wine was brought, and bread and cheese and trays of pastries.
"See, Sten?" Maude said lightly, sipping her wine. "We are having a party—a strategy party. I think it's rather nice."
"Indeed," Sten agreed. "I shall speak of this to the arishok."
Maude drifted away to speak to her brother. Their voices were low, and the girl appeared unhappy and apologetic, while the brother seemed to be attempting to reassure her.
Their rooms were ready, and the seneschal led the way. Cauthrien gave Loghain a triumphant smirk and a quick nod, then turned and strode away to her own rest. Fergus and Maude embraced again (with much clanging of armor), and whispered some confidences before bidding one another good night. Maude came to Loghain's side, full of curiosity about the compound.
"This is interesting. I don't know anything about the compound. Alistair mentioned it only once. I never thought I'd see it, and it apparently had too many memories for him."
Loghain shrugged, hoping that the seneschal had removed the unpleasant signs of defacement before the girl saw the place. If not, he would just have to comfort her distress. "It's not much more than the Justinian Tower and a big room attached, with some cellars and a kitchen below."
"Not another tower!" the girl groaned.
"It's not a particularly tall tower," Loghain assured her.
"I'm so sick of towers," she muttered.
The compound was not as bad as he had expected. The Wardens had only used it for twenty years, and thus it was not exactly redolent with their history anyway. The seneschal had tactfully removed the slashed pictures and some of the trash. The old Warden's Hall was now simply a big storeroom with an attractively vaulted ceiling, full of boxes and bales and casks. When time permitted, it should all put in order, in the event that the new King felt nostalgic. Duncan's study had been pretty thoroughly searched and everything of value removed, but Maude would not know that, since the bookcases had been moved, too. The tower bedchambers, other than being stripped of personal possessions, were in usable condition. Another time Maude could explore the storage cellars, the bathroom, and the kitchen below. She might even find things that Loghain's soldiers had missed.
Riordan's strength was flagging badly, and Leliana helped him into the first bedchamber they came to: the one that connected with the study. It had been Duncan's, so perhaps that was fitting. The seneschal had obviously not intended this at all, and huffed indignantly.
Loghain frowned at him, and Revere dropped the matter, satisfying himself by offering one of the remaining two rooms on that level to Loghain, and the other to Maude. The other companions bickered, going up the winding stairs, about who would have what on the next floor, and Morrigan firmly insisted that she wanted to be "apart, and at the uppermost level possible."
Maude gave Loghain a faint, rueful smile, a soft "Good night," and shut the door.
Loghain stared at the closed door, caught a little flat-footed by her rapid departure. Was that it? He had killed an Archdemon today and his blood still pulsed with victory. It was unbelievably anti-climatic to simply...go to bed. He looked around the room, scowling, but the plain furniture and white-washed walls offered no answers.
A very plain room indeed: as plain as the cell of a priest or a Templar. A wide bed, a bedside table with a candlestand, an empty chest, an empty armor stand, a plain washstand, with a blessed pitcher of hot water, and a bucket of cold water on the floor beside it. The basin was clean, and there was even soap and a towel. The servants had worked hard.
Yes, they had worked hard: they had not only made the room presentable, but also expunged any hint of the identity or personality of the man who had once lived here. A man, Loghain guessed, if only because Duncan had almost exclusively recruited men. Wild young Maude was an anomaly among the Wardens, just as she was among the Fereldan nobility. The events at Highever had been a disaster for her, but an opportunity for Duncan.
What had drawn Duncan's eye? Loghain disliked the notion that it had been the girl's beauty. Such things were entirely a matter of taste. He knew nothing about Duncan's relations with women, but the image of Duncan lusting after Maude made him queasy. Bastard. No: if Duncan had wanted to conscript good-looking girls, he would have done it long before. More likely, it was the girl's high birth, coupled with her extraordinary and rather idiosyncratic skill at arms. She fought brilliantly, but she fought like no one else. And she had other, more indefinable qualities...
There was a soft knock at the door, but it was only Revere.
"Beg pardon, my lord-er, Warden-but I wanted to know if I could get anything for you before you retire for the night? Shall I send in a valet to assist you with your armor?"
"No," Loghain answered instantly, "but if there's any of that wine left, bring it to me, along with two goblets."
"Yes, my lord. Warden." The man scuttled away in embarrassment.
Was she angry with him? Was that it? Or perhaps she had grown prudent, finding her brother alive. Fergus Cousland would certainly care if his sister made a fool of herself.
No, he decided. She was not being prudent. She probably was angry with him. He had stolen her Archdemon. She had not looked angry, but perhaps she was tired and sad instead.
Well, she would just have to get over it.
The wine arrived and the seneschal departed. Loghain gathered it all together, and went next door and knocked. He could hear the girl, pacing back and forth. That was unlike her.
The footsteps came closer. The door cracked open, very narrowly, and the girl peered out at him, scowling. "What do you want?"
"You need to get your armor off and get some sleep, Maude. And so do I."
She let him in, but her eyes were red-rimmed and unfriendly. She had not even made an attempt to undress, he noticed. Ranger was asleep on a mass of cushions by the fire. He whimpered faintly and his eyes blinked briefly in the dim light. He took note of Loghain and wagged his stumpy tail once, twice, and was asleep once more. Thunder rolled again, closer now, and lightning flashed briefly, refracted into rainbows by the water droplets running down the windows. The rain came down harder, beating against the stout stone walls.
"You're really upset with me, it seems."
"Yes, I'm really upset with you, but that's not what I've been thinking about. Is that more of that spiced wine? I'd like some."
He poured for both of them. She took a long swallow. "I'm hoping Fergus doesn't think too carefully about the events of the past year and really, really hate me." Her voice broke as a torrent of words burst from her.
"I've been such a fool! I should never have left the Wilds without lookiing for Fergus. All I've done for the past year is take care other peoples' problems! 'Find my sword!' 'Find my mother's grimoire!' 'Find my bardmaster who's trying to kill me!' 'Find my wife in the most incredibly dangerous part of the Deep Roads!' 'Find my former apprentice who ran away because I was a bitch!' 'Find my estranged guardian and then fight the undead, and then go to the end of the earth and fight a dragon to find a cure for the ungrateful bastard!'"
She downed the rest of the wine in a gulp and ran her hand through her hair. "I can't believe I listened to Alistair when he said we mustn't waste time looking for Fergus! My only excuse is that I'd only known him less than a week, during which I had this brief period of dementia when I regarded him as Senior Warden. Pretty soon I noticed that he always hid behind me when we had to talk to people and wanted me to make all decisions, major and minor.. No wonder it was such a terrible mistake!" Dramatically, she lifted a hand and proclaimed, "Hear me, Loghain! I will never listen to Alistair's stupid opinions on anything for the rest of my life. This I swear." She leaned against the wall, looking miserable.
He regarded her gravely. "Alistair didn't want to help look for your brother?"
"He didn't and Morrigan didn't. Said it was hopeless. Morrigan I can understand, since she doesn't care much for other people, and nothing at all for people she's never met. But considering how much time I spent on Alistair's nearest and dearest, well, I think Alistair was very callous and self-absorbed to dismiss me like that. Fergus spent over a year wounded, a captive of the Chasind, and he could have been with me, and everything would have been better!"
"I suppose it's possible, but I can tell you this, if it comforts you: I cannot believe that your brother is going to be angry because his little sister didn't somehow rescue him. I doubt the thought will ever enter his mind."
"Really?" She looked like she really, really wanted to believe him.
"Really. Now off with the armor. We have to fight again tomorrow, despite having saved the world today. That's just the way it always is."
She began unfastening his buckles willing enough, frowning a little. "Why are you here? Other than getting your armor off, I mean? I thought you were done with me."
He raised his brows. "Whatever gave you that idea?"
"You said it was all over. That we were all over."
"I thought I was going to be dead by now, so it would have been, in fact, 'all over.' Thanks to Avernus, however, it seems I will live to fight another day. Tomorrow in fact."
She pulled off his left pauldron. "It was really the Ashes," she muttered. "So...does that mean we're not...all over?"
He had a future. His future had possibilities. It rather staggered him for a moment. "That's entirely up to you," he said, hoping she would not throw him out. "At the moment, I just want to get out of my armor and wash."
"That sounds nice." She put her fingers on his shoulders and looked at him before leaning in for a gentle kiss. "I don't want it to be over. I told you. I'd like to make love with you all the time. Could we do that really soon, do you think?"
"You're not too angry with me?"
"One thing has nothing to do with the other. I can be angry with you later."
They both paused, and drew breath, and then kissed hungrily, teeth catching against lip, tongues exploring. He clutched her against him, hands stroking down, squeezing luxuriously, then pulling her even closer. She kissed him again, with an amorous little moan that undid him. Clumsy with haste, they tugged at each other, needing to escape their metal shells, to toss aside gambesons and tunics and small clothes, to press skin to warm skin. She was very curious about his body once again, but he caught her by her strong upper arm, and hustled her into the stone bath basin.
"Wash first. It'll do us both good."
The fire was not far away. It warmed the room, chasing away the damp of the rainstorm out in the darkness. There was soap and water and blessed time enough to use them. It was a pleasant pastime, to teach her how to wash him properly... all over.
"Yes, very nice. Push that back a little...gently...yes...yes, I think I'm fairly clean there..."
And she liked being washed, too, letting him soap her breasts and back, her long legs and arms; letting him taste and nuzzle her while probing her with questing, gentle fingers. She was not averse to letting him order her about a bit, which was very exciting indeed. He began to wonder if they were going to make it to the bed, but he decided he was entirely too old to enjoy taking a woman in the inhospitable current environs. Some quick toweling, some breathless kisses, and then she was off and racing him to the bed. It could not possibly matter who got there first, since they were both going to win.
His needs were simple, but achieving them could be delightfully complex. With a bit of persuasion and little manhandling, her sleek, strong legs were on his shoulders and he was deep within her, his intent gaze fixed on her young face, heavy lidded, slack with passion. When she had clawed at him more than enough, he caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them beside her head, his hips moving faster while she kicked helplessly.
"Mine," he growled.
"Only because I let you," she gasped out.
She was an adventurous girl, after all, and while she cried with frustration at his sudden withdrawal, she did not object when he flipped her over, and took her hard and quick, like an animal. With release came tenderness, and his fingers and mouth strayed over her until she, too, was lax and satisfied. They slept a little, and woke again, and this time he let her take the lead, surrendering his body to her as she had to him. She straddled him in a single smooth motion, her warm center pressed exasperating close, but not yet there.
The firelight licked at her breasts and arms. Leaning over him, her dark eyes shone like stars reflected in deep water. Her long fingers stroked the hair of his chest, and pinched a nipple. She licked at him delicately, with the just the tip of her tongue. He ground his teeth, wanting desperately to get on with it. She, however, was resolved on torture.
"You took my Archdemon away. That was a wickedly cruel thing to do," she told him, perfectly serious.
"I did it to save your life. What part of "A Grey Warden must die" did you not understand?"
Those dark eyes could be unnerving, fixed on him as they were, while she moved ever so teasingly. "I was never in any real danger of death," she insisted. "I knew the Ashes would work. Don't look like that. Think about it rationally: if the Archdemon and Andraste had a fight, who would win?"
"The Archdemon," he answered instantly.
She glared at him and thumped him on the chest, hard. He winced.
"No, no, no! Andraste would win! And why, you ask? Because Andraste can call on the Maker!l" She shook her head, tickling his face with her silky hair. "Really, Loghain! You act as if you've never received proper religious instruction!"
"Instruction. I believe I have some instruction for you." He tried moving just a bit more, to see if...hmm...That was nice, anyway. "Besides, it wasn't the Ashes that saved me. It was Avernus' spell."
"It was not! It was the Ashes. Avernus died because the Archdemon fell on him."
"What will you do if I agree with you?" he asked, ready to bargain.
"Do you agree with me?"
"Yes...oh, yes."
That Grey Warden stamina was really something. After they slammed the headboard against the wall long enough, they settled down into a restful, blissful state once more.
Loghain murmured, "I was lying. It was Avernus."
"Cheater," she accused him sleepily. "You'll pay for that."
"I look forward to it."
"And it was the Ashes."
"Avernus..."
The estate of the Arl of Denerim was full of darkspawn. It was no more than they expected, but annoying nonetheless. The scouts went out with the dawn, and were back shortly afterward, confirming that the darkspawn had collected there, drawing together in the wake of their defeat.
Maude knew entirely too much about the place, but of course she had been through it end to end before, and pretty thoroughly slaughtered everything in her path that time. No wonder she looked a trifle bored. She knew all the exits-especially the servants' door near the gardens, which was how she had sneaked in the last time she was here.
They had based their plan on that. Cauthrien and her men would be stationed at the front gate, to keep the darkspawn sealed in. The Dalish were behind them, ready with their bows to pick off any darkspawn archers that might appear in the windows or up on the battlements. They could also send a volley or two if a mob of darkspawn tried to escape. Keeper Lanaya's magic would be of great service, too, and Loghain advised Cauthrien to make the most of it.
The dwarves followed the Wardens and their party, and would make keep the darkspawn bottled in from that side.
Fergus Cousland insisted on going with his sister. Loghain did not object. The fellow must know how to handle himself, since he had made it all the way from the Wilds to Denerim alone. It was understandable that brother and sister could hardly stop talking, even when they were killing monsters. She was much more cheerful than the day before. Loghain felt a certain pride that he was not a total failure in the role of comforter.
"I stopped at Highever House, and it's rather a mess," Fergus told Maude. "Howe's folk looted it, of course, but they didn't find everything. It was a place to sleep, at least. We'll have to see if it's still standing after all this..."
"Oh!" Maude replied, excited, "You mean they didn't find the you-know-what in the study? What about the one in Father and Mother's bedchamber?"
Fergus was astonished. "They had one in their bedchamber, too?"
"Yes!" Maude said smugly. "I found it when I was twelve!"
Loghain wondered if he dared ask of what they were speaking, and hoped it involved a secret hiding niche, though knowing the Couslands, anything was possible.
Their own party was a strong one, and could readily absorb another swordsman. Riordan, too, was well enough, he insisted, to go with them, and he could sense darkspawn clearly enough to tell what kind they were and their position in a room, even through a closed door. Loghain bitterly regretted the loss of the powerful magic of Avernus, but Morrigan was there, beside Maude, and she was a force to be reckoned with.
A storm of magic in the front courtyard cleared the milling darkspawn out of the way. To the back of the building, another storm left darkspawn dead strewn about the garden like frostbitten turnips. It did not take long to strip away the hindrances that kept them from the stone skin of the estate.
So they moved quickly from room to room, clearing out the brutes. The luxurious residence of the Arl was reeking with darkspawn filth. Howe would not have approved.
"This place was evil before, but now it's like the Deep Roads, only with expensive carpets," Maude remarked. "It's nice that they haven't been here long enough to set much in the way of traps."
The only surviving ogre was in the entry hall, and he was dealt with before they even stepped through the doorway. Maude kept up a soft, running commentary to her brother about the last time she had been there.
"...and this is where Cauthrien arrested me for killing Howe. It was her duty, I suppose. I had to surrender and go quietly because the Queen was with us and could have been hurt if I'd made trouble. I escaped as soon as they locked me in Fort Drakon, so it wasn't so bad..."
The dungeons took a little longer. They had left a guard at the entrances to the dungeons, and descended into them with a feeling of forboding. Riordan warned them of a pair of powerful emissaries somewhere ahead. The Couslands exchanged looks of disgust as they passed through the late Rendon Howe's bedchamber.
"He slept next to the door to the dungeons?" Fergus wondered.
Oghren chuckled darkly, "Reckon he liked to nip down to the dungeons for a spot of torture before bedtime!"
Maude gave her a brother a look, which indicated that she did not disagree. Ranger whined a little, but followed bravely. The stench was enough to make Loghain quail a little, and he guessed it must be far worse for the dog.
He wondered if anyone had come down here to clear out the bodies after Howe's death. He supposed so. It was all too apparent that it would all have to be done again. The girl had a good memory for the plan of the place, which saved them from a number of possible ambushes.
One room interested her in particular. She whispered to Fergus, "...and here is where I got him! He was right here-there, I mean-and he had a pair of mages and a lot of thugs with him, but I showed him!"
"I only wish I'd been with you," her brother said fiercely.
Maude, Loghain saw, did not seem to share that sentiment, but the brief look of dismay was mastered, and she went on talking. "So he put up a fight-I'd never call him a personal coward-and when he lay dying, he gasped out, 'I deserved more!' Can you imagine? I told him I thought so too, but I didn't have time to waste on him!"
"Ah, good times," chuckled Oghren.
"Very...hmm...how to describe it?" murmured Zevran. "Very entertaining. Very colorful."
"Don't forget to go through there," Maude directed, pointing at a distant door. "That where he locked up people he didn't want anybody to know he had. It would be just the place for darkspawn to hide."
"Yes," whispered Fergus, "Cauthrien told me they found the remains of Bann Vaughan, the old Arl's son. Howe must have kept him down here for months before he killed him."
Maude caught Loghain's eye and gave him a very naughty wink. He would have to ask her what that was all about. She had admitted to killing the man. What he could not guess was why. Vaughan would have been a useful ally for her at the Landsmeet.
Riordan was frowning in concentration. As they grew close to the door, he held up two fingers and pointed to the area that would be just behind the door. Then he held up four fingers, and pointed out where those should be.
Zevran flicked a door open, jumped away, and green mist bloomed from inside. Instantly, Morrigan was cursing the emissaries with ice, while Maude rushed in, blades flashing. Ranger growled, and mauled at a hurlock knocked down by Loghain's shield. One of the genlock archers, knock off balance by Riordan, fell into the backswing of Fergus' sword, and was carried along as he slashed at a hurlock. The two darkspawn smashed into each other, staggered, and were dispatched by Fergus in a single blow.
"Show-off!" shouted Maude. "He's always been like that," she told Loghain.
With one thing and another, the mansion was cleared. When all was over, Maude rapped out the prearranged signal at the entry hall, and the great doors were swung open to the cheers of the waiting troops. A garrison was arranged to guard the entrances, and the victors returned to the Palace for a meal.
More warriors of all races were trickling, then pouring into the Palace Quarter. Word came that the City was clear on the north side of the River, and that Prince Alistair had fought very bravely at the Gate. The couriers were told their own news and then headed back to inform the Queen. Loghain grimaced. "Prince" Alistair. That was what people were calling Chantry Boy now. Once he married Anora it would be King Alistair. It was not a prospect Loghain relished.
"So," Maude said, "Next we go east. I told you about that big underground complex where the blood mages were hiding. It's just the sort of place that the darkspawn would favor."
The stink there was, almost inconceivably, even worse than that at the Arl's estate. There were darkspawn there, but they were cleared out in less than an hour. Loghain studied the place, rather unnerved at such an extensive secret hideout under the streets of Denerim. Their own mages would be needed to cleanse the labyrinth of rooms and tunnels, in addition to a great deal of soap and water.
Loghain considered the matter. "I wonder if there is any practical use for this place..."
"...that doesn't involve ritual blood-letting?" Maude shook her head. "I know there's always a housing shortage in Denerim, but it smells really bad."
Another messenger arrived. The streets had been made safe enough for the Queen and Prince Alistair to cross the Dock Bridge. They were on their way to the Palace at that very moment.
"Well, time to pay our respects," laughed Fergus. "Shall we?"
They even had time to wash their faces before the royal party arrived. LIke actors in a pageant of ancient heroes, they arranged themselves at the top of the steps: The Wardens and their companions; Ranger, wagging his tail furiously; a band of the Legion of the Dead with Kardol among them, limping a little; Lanaya and her Dalish; Cauthrien and Fergus Cousland and Sergeant Kylon and the remnants of the guardsmen they had rallied.
Anora stepped lightly from her heavy coach, assisted by Alistair. She was still in her dragonbone mail, and was every inch the warrior queen. Alistair looked messy enough to have been fighting, which Loghain rather approved of, though he would never confess such a thing. Alistair looked, in fact, quite a bit like Maric would have, if Maric had ever had a mad fancy to cut his hair short.
Even the red-faced, sulky look reminded him of Maric on a bad day. Anora, on the other hand, was radiant. She met his eyes, even at this distance, and he could see she glowed with pride. He was extremely happy he had killed the Archdemon, anyway, but even more happy to know that the knowledge had obviously come to her and pleased her. On the other hand, he could understand Chantry Boy's disgruntlement.
Loghain smiled quietly, drawing himself up to his full height. Chantry Boy.
More troops followed, filling the great stone courtyard. There was Eamon, and oh, my, my, wasn't that smile a bit forced? Teagan just looked tired. Loghain wasn't feeling tired. Not a bit. Not even after slaying an Archdemon and saving the country. Not even after a night spent wrestling naked with crazy, lovely Maude Cousland. But then, he was a Grey Warden, with extra-special secret powers. He was feeling really well, in fact.
Anora was coming up the steps, her hands out.
"Father."
The cheers were beginning, louder than ever. They were cheering for the Queen, for the Wardens, for Prince Alistair, for the good Teyrn of Highever. And then they were cheering for him.
"Loghain! Loghain! Loghain! Loghain!"
The roar shook the stones of Denerim. The people in the Landsmeet Chamber had come out to join the shouting and laughing, the fierce embraces and joyous tears.
"Loghain! Loghain! Loghain! Loghain!"
People were kneeling for the Queen, but not three figures at the top of the steps.
"We shouldn't kneel," Maude whispered fiercely. "We're Wardens!"
But they did, last of all, and together, for that was the final touch to make the pageant perfect.
Note: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers: Persephone Chiara, Shakespira, Piceron, wisecracknmama, mieuwings, Enaid Aderyn, Sarah1281, Chatoyant Tiger, icey cold, Lehni, Amhran Comhrac, McNeko, DarkRoseTiger, Nithu, Aoi24, Eva Galan, Shikyo-sama, fussycat, Hekateras, Gene Dark, Guile, JackOfBladesX, ChaosEagle22, Windchime68, reyavie, mille libri, mutive, gaj620, riverdaleswhiteflash, and Hayvee Mettle.
Maude's argument about the Ashes of Andraste is shamelessly stolen from Awakenings. The argument between the two drunks in the Crown & Lion Tavern never fails to make me smile.
Next up: Bridezilla vs. the Wardens