Part 2: Fear and Lothering
Chapter 2: The Priestess and The Prisoner
"Are we here to solve everyone's problems?"
Morrigan was getting on Dylan's very last nerve. It was giving him a roaring headache.
'I couldn't have just walked the other way when Jowan asked his ridiculous favor?' He thought to himself.
He didn't really mean it, but he would gladly shut himself up in a tower if it would get him away from her insistent complaining. The merchant whose profiteering he had summarily ended, much to her displeasure, had barely anything of use. And why did she care anyway?
He leaned against the Chantry gate, waiting for Ishafel and Alistair. The town was overrun with people fleeing the darkspawn. Ishafel's face looked absolutely grim as she walked out of the Chantry, but it was Alistair that spoke.
"Which would you like first? The good news or the bad news?"
"Loghain has been telling people the Grey Wardens killed the king." Ishafel spoke before he could answer.
"Wha-What?" He choked on his own tongue for a moment.
"He's taken up regency in your capital. He has made us out-of-your-laws."
"It's outlaws" Alistiar corrected
Sirius whined, Dylan felt like joining him. This was going to complicate things.
"At least the Templar Commander of this area gave us enough for a few days journey." Alistair said positively, hoisting a pack forward.
"It'll stretch if we forage. We shouldn't tarry here." Ishafel seconded, "The sooner we get back to wood and field the better."
"We still need to decide where to go. Did you hear anything of value?"
"Just places that have been overrun." Ishafel held herself, "There are more than you might think."
Now wasn't that a sobering thought? All at once, Dylan didn't want to be here. Not Lothering, not even outside his tower. A great choking fear clawed up his throat and rendered him silent. The world was so large and they were so small. How could they possibly do anything?
"Dylan? Dylan, are you alright?"
There was a snowflake like hand on his arm and he looked down into Ishafel's concerned, tattooed face.
"We should find some place to rest." she told Alistair and Morrigan, her eyes not leaving his face.
From the concern on her face, he must have turned some terrible color, probably puce.
"There is an inn near by." Morrigan pointed out, motioning toward it with a flick of her wrist "Is that not where people rest and exchange news?"
It was clear when they arrived that Dane's Refuge was being taken up on it's name. The people in residence were all refugees, and there were so many they were spilling out on to the street. Whole families huddled in the dirt.
"Might not want to go in there." A man standing by the side of the pub mumbled, "Loghain's men causing trouble, looking for Grey Wardens."
"Wardens, you say?"
"Aye, causing more trouble than they're stopping."
It was overcrowded as expected, but room had been cleared around two men in the center. It was clear they were drunk. Between themselves they had a young elven girl, not more than 16 winters. She struggled against them, but they only laughed at her.
Ishafel's eyes lit up with anger.
"Loghain's men," Alistair whispered in her ear, "It would be best to be cautious, if we play our cards right they might not realize..."
Ishafel strode towards the men purposefully, causing people to scamper out of the way.
"Or we could just charge in breathing fire and brimstone, and give away ourselves away to upward of 60 people." He muttered to the air where she had just stood.
"Wha' you want? Wanna join in, wenchie?" One of them grinned at her lewdly. Once his eyes met her face however, it turned into a puzzled frown. "Hey, Horace. I- I think it's her."
"What are goin' on about, Jasper? Who's 'her'? Your mum?"
"You idiot, the knife ear we've been asking about all bleedin' day. The one nobody'd bleedin' seen."
The two men scrambled to their feet. The girl was tossed aside with a cry.
Even drunk, the men would be hard to take down in close quarters, Ishafel thought to herself. She wondered if she could slit the throat of the first one before the second fell on her.
"Traitorous bitch."
Well, that was quite enough pleasantries with the enemies for one day, Dylan decided recovering from his fear induced state.
"Do watch you tongues, gentlemen. You wouldn't want us to cut them out, would you?"
He got that line from a hero in the adventure novel Surana had read to him when they were children. He had always thought the hero was a bombastic prick, but a good threat was a good threat, no matter where it came from.
The Soldiers were not frightened in the least.
Dylan frowned.
Did he not look threatening enough in his magus robes? Maybe he ought to acquire armor or something?
They stepped towards Ishafel. Sirius, who had gone unnoticed, was suddenly at Ishafel's calf, letting out a warning snarl. The people in the inn began to slowly back towards the walls, not wanting to be involved in the upcoming fight.
Except for one. A Chantry sister, no less.
"Gentlemen, surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt more poor souls seeking refuge from the darkspawn."
"They're more than that, Sister, now out of our way. You protect them, you'll get the same as these traitors."
"I would get out of the way if I were you, miss." Dylan told the Chantry mouse politely. A terse situation was no call to be rude to a lady after all.
"It looks like he wants a fight, I'm happy to oblige." Ishafel added.
More men stood up as she reached for her blades. Beside her Sirius coiled himself, ready to strike.
"Right then," Jasper said, only an inkling of trepidation in his voice."We'll make this quick."
And with that, all hell broke loose.
The Sister surprisingly was the quickest on the draw. She would have beaten Ishafel if her hand hadn't already been on her blade. Sirius rammed forward, taking down a man at Ishafel's right. In a truly savage movement, he ripped out his throat. Ishafel launched herself at Jasper, circling under his guard and silting his throat. She waited for the blow of the sword of the other solider, but found to her surprise the sister had beaten him off.
Dylan summarily ended the fight by soundly shocking two charging soldiers. Alistair stood at the ready in case it was not enough. The two men dropped to the floor, writhing in their very metallic armor.
The rest of the soldiers stared in horror.
Nobody was dumb enough to want to make a mage angry.
Dylan smirked, perhaps he would forgo the plate mail.
"Stop, stop!" Horace shouted, "We surrender."
"Good." The Sister said, satisfied. It had not escaped Ishafel that her blows were defensive only. A pacifist. She was reminded reluctantly of Keeper Marethari.
"They've learned there lesson and we can all stop fighting now."
"They aimed to butcher us! They deserve no mercy!" Ishafel protested in disgust.
"But they were no match for you."
Dylan was not quite sure he understood.
"They tried to kill us, Sister." He restated. Surely she thought they should get some punishment. Even the Chantry had soldiers to punish the wrong, or in the case of mages, those they suspected would do wrong at some unspecified date.
"But they failed, and I do not wish death on anyone."
The last time someone had begged Ishafel for mercy, she had not given it. She did not know why she felt inclined to let them go, it may have been the unforeseen consequences of last time. She crossed her arms in front of her chest. She'd much rather kill them and be done with it.
"Fine. They should leave and quickly." she spat, and Sirius growled low in his throat.
"But not before they agree to take a message to Loghain."
"W-what do you want to tell him?" Horace stuttered. Jasper lay dead at his feet.
"He'll have to do better than this."
"I'll tell him! Right away! Now!"
Horace and his remaining men ran.
The Sister smiled at them.
"I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't sit by and not help."
"So we see." Dylan said to the strange young woman with a smile. "And where does a Sister learn to fight like that?"
She grinned.
"I wasn't born in the Chantry you know, some of us had more...colorful lives before joining. Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."
"And is there something you want from us, Leliana?" Ishafel didn't know much about the Chantry, but she knew that no human did a good deed without expecting reward. She paused in thought; with the possible exception of Dylan. He had never told her why he saved her life.
But that was neither here nor there at the moment.
"You are Grey Wardens, yes? You fight darkspawn because that is what you do. I know after what happened, you'll need all the help you can get. That's why I'm coming along."
Ishafel gawped. Well, she would certainly would not consider that a reward.
Neither would Dylan, "Why so eager to come with us, miss?"
"Leliana" she replied with a shy smile. He fought the urge to return the favor; he was a sucker for a woman with a pretty smile.
"The Maker told me to."
Insanity was a turn off.
"Can you... elaborate?"
She looked at the four faces full of disbelief and the dog with his head cocked to the side in curiosity and faltered
"I-I know that sounds.. absolutely insane- but it's true! I had a dream... a vision!"
Alistair's gaze drifted between Morrigan and Ishafel. "More crazy?" he muttered, raising a joking eyebrow at Dylan, "I thought we were full up."
Leliana pursed her lips.
"Look at the people here. They are lost in their despair and this darkness, this chaos will spread. The Maker doesn't want this. What you do, what you are meant to do, is the Maker's work. Let me help!"
"You feel sorry for the people?" Dylan chided gently, "Help them here."
She snorted. "Then what? What happen when the horde comes? It will follow anywhere we flee until all we know is destroyed."
"Then join us," Ishafel snapped distractedly, "If you would fight them."
Her attention was on the elven girl who she thought needed saving. The girl had gotten up, brushed herself off and solicited another group of men. She was nothing but a common trollop.
Morrigan who had been silent all this time, managed to work up some righteous indignation.
"Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than mother thought!"
Leliana positively beamed.
"Thank you! I appreciate being given this chance. I will not let you down."
Dylan looked at Ishafel with a pained expression on his face, and sighed. At least she was pretty, the last thing he needed was an elderly hag spouting platitudes to the Maker, like Wynne. Pretty at least he could work with.
Ishafel shouldered her way through the crowd that had already spread out over the inn. Shems,why on earth would anyone want to associate in a place so small? After a moment of jostling she reached her destination. Snatching the waifs elbow, she smoothly manhandled her to the wall.
"You don't seem like the type who would want to tumble a girl like me, lady." her tone was mocking, but held grudging respect, and even a bit of disappointment.
"You let those men paw on you as though are nothing! Do you not have any respect for yourself, your lineage?
The girl shrugged. "Lineage doesn't put food in the mouth of me or my young one."
"You have a youngling? What must he think of his mother?"
"He doesn't have to think anything," She snapped angrily, "He eats the food I give him."
Ishafel's eyes scanned the haughty angry face, and she sighed.
"Should you ever tire of this life. Head to the Brecillain. If there are any of my kin left in the woods, they will find you in a few minutes. Tell them Mahariel Ishafel sent you." She tossed the girl a token from her belt.
The girl turned the flat disc over in he palm twice before pocketing it.
"If you are planning to go, go quickly. The Dalish are leaving this land."
She did not meet Ishafel's eyes as she returned to the table.
Shem idiot.
Ishafel returned to her group, which had taken over the table that Loghain's soldiers were occupying.
"Now what?"
"Well, Arl Eamon is sick, maybe even dying. Nobody has heard anything in a few days." Alistair's voice was despairing.
"If he dies, then what happens?"
"His son, Connor, would take the Arlship. But a ten year old won't have much of a voice in the Landsmeet."
"We should head for my people. If we do not hurry, they will all have gone." Ishafel suggested avidly, ignoring Alistair.
"The Dwarves in Orzammar are unreachable at the moment," Leliana informed them, "A traveling merchant said their king had died."
"The mages are unchangeable. The world could be falling to pieces and they'd still shut themselves
up in tower." Dylan snorted, "No need to rush there."
"Fine, so the Dalish or Redcliffe?" Ishafel asked, she already knew where she wanted to go. It must have been fairly obvious.
Alistair cleared his throat.
"Pardon me for saying, But the Dalish don't exactly have clout in the Landsmeet."
"The what?"
"The Landsmeet," Leliana explained, "It is a meeting of all the land holders and nobles in Ferleden who decide policy."
"And probably our best bet for getting rid of Loghain."
"How far is this Redcliffe?" Ishafel asked.
"About five or six days west on foot, if we stick to the main roads, which we don't want to do if Loghain has men looking for us, Seven or eight days through the woods,"Alistair told her. Ishafel and Morrigan both snorted simultaneously.
"You mean for someone who doesn't know how to navigate woodlands."
"It's in the opposite direction of the Brecillan. The Dalish could have gotten as far as the Free Marches by then."
"Highly unlikely, camps with women and children." Ishafel shot him a look at the word woman, "Laden down with gear and trappings. Even the Dalish couldn't move that quickly"
"Plus the Arl has runners, we could send an envoy to the Dalish from Denerim. They would be closer than we would be at that point." Dylan added, studying the map strewn on the table.
"Any Dalish camp with any hope of survival would shoot down any shems in the area before asking questions. It has to be me who approaches them."
"We could send elves, they would be less likely to attack."
"It. Will. Not. Work." She said it very clearly just in case Alistair and Dylan were having hearing problems.
"We are not equipped for the Brecillan and there is no guarantee of what we may find. We may be there days just looking, Eamon could have died by then."
Ishafel sat back in her chair arms crossed.
"If Arl Eamon dies before we get there, we lose our support in the Landsmeet and any hope of human allies in one fell stroke."0
Dylan leaned across the table, his amber eyes were molten and boring into her. Ishafel sighed. He was right; however badly she wanted to see her people right now would have to take a back seat.
"It's settled then, We go to Redcliffe." Leliana said delightedly, as if they had been discussing a pleasure cruise. She paused, thoughtful. "Although we aren't much equipped for that either, but Terrance," she motioned to a man leaning on a strongbox and talking, perhaps flirting, with a young initiate, "Says that a Dwarven merchant just passed through; if we are quick we may catch him not to far from here."
They rose and Leliana's Terrance hurried over to meet them.
"Hail and well met, Grey Wardens! That was a fantastic show you put on! Brilliant! You as well, Leliana!" He gave he a winning smile before continuing, "I represent a group called the Blackstone Irregulars and I wonder... since it seems as though you may be traveling-"
"Eavesdropping, were you?" Ishafel muttered dryly
"If you might not mind doing a few tasks for us... Our unit is too small to lose people right now, and traveling warriors like yourselves are a boon."
"How much does it pay?" Dylan asked conversationally
"Do you really think we have time for this?" Ishafel hissed in his ear.
"We can barely afford supplies for the journey to Redcliffe. Extra income never hurt anybody, and coin will help in cities like Denerim, I'm sure."
She humphed behind him. "Small bits of metal? Why would anyone find that valuable?"
For the first time, Dylan shot her a caustic look. Even Ishafel wasn't that naive. In the end it was decided that they should take the jobs. Armed with three missives and directions, they returned to their travels. Lothering, two or three weeks ago may have been able to pass itself off as a charming little country hamlet, but walking through it now, its streets were rank with chaos and despair. It was hard to look at and it was hard to move quickly. Good deeds in a desperate place tend to bring the hopeless in droves; everyone, even Leliana, was short on nerves by the time they reached the end of the village.
That was when she saw him.
A great iron cage hung on a great iron hook, suspended only slight above the ground. There was no room to move in it, or even to sit, but the man seemed not to care. His deep bass voice lifted and dropped in words she did not understand, but she recognized the rhythm and the way each chant ended in 'qun. He was praying. Ishafel stopped in front of the cage. Dylan kept going, purposefully, until Sirius gave a bark. He turned to see the rest of the party drifting back to Ishafel. They were never going to catch that merchant at this rate.
He was tall, head and shoulders taller than Ishafel, with skin the color of stone darkened by fire. He stood in a warrior's stance, and chanted for a moment more before opening bloodshot eyes to stare at her with scorn.
"You aren't one of my captors."
His voice was slightly hoarse. He must have been chanting for a long time.
"I have nothing to say that would amuse you, elf. Leave me in peace."
She bristled at his tone.
"You're a prisoner? Who put you here?"
"I'm in a cage am I not? I've been placed here by the Chantry."
Leliana spoke from behind Ishafel.
"The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family. Even the children."
Her dark eyes grew wide in her pale face.
"It is as she said."
Oh, creators...even the shem children...
The creature-man looked down at Ishafel, locking eyes as though he was trying to make sense of her. It was an uncomfortable feeling and he looked away after a moment, staring out into the fields of Lothering.
"I am Sten of the Beresaad- the vanguard—of the Qunari peoples."
"I am Ishafel. Pleased to me you."
There was a gawping sound behind her,
"You know when she met me, she insulted me." Alistar said to Leliana, "She meets a self-professed murder and she's all smiles and good manners."
Morrigan smiled snidely, "Perhaps it's is because she is meeting someone with better manners than you."
Sten ignored them. He looked at Ishafel with narrowed eyes "You mock me." He accused, but there was no malice in her face. He shifted uneasily, rocking the cage. "Or you show me manners I have come not to expect in your lands. Though it matters little, now. I will die soon enough."
"This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn. If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy's sake alone." Morrigan suggested over her shoulder.
"Mercy? I wouldn't have expected that from you." Alistair replied, surprised
"I would also suggest that Alistair take his place in the cage."
"Yes, that's what I would have expected."
The Qunari looked as though he was developing a headache.
"I suggest you leave me to my fate."
Ishafel cocked her head to the side, "Are you guilty?"
"Are you asking if I feel guilt, or if I am responsible for the deed?"
He didn't give her a chance to answer.
"However I feel, Whatever I've done, my life is forfeit now."
The stoicism in his voice tugged at her. She knew how that felt ever since she had met Duncan at the mirror. Sickness or service, nothing would ever be the same, and she felt sympathy rather than pity.
"If you feel guilty about the murder, why did you do it?"
"Either you have a enviable memory or a pitiable life to know nothing of regret."
"Aren't you interested in seeking atonement?"
He opened his eyes and looked at her, really looked. A well armed elf in human lands, he was beginning to wonder who exactly this annoying woman was.
"Death will be my atonement."
"There are other ways to redeem yourself" she replied.
"Perhaps. What does your wisdom say is equal to my crime?"
"We are on a quest of great importance..."
He scoffed. "Importance is a matter of perspective. From here, very little seems meaningful."
"You could help us defend the land against a Blight."
Now she had his attention.
"The Blight? Are you Grey wardens then?"
"Why do you ask?"
"My people have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill... though I suppose not every legend is true."
"Would the Revered Mother let you free?"
"Perhaps if you told her the Grey Wardens require my assistance. It seems as likely to bring my death as waiting here."
Leliana shook her head. "To be left here to starve, or to be taken by the darkspawn... no one deserves that, not even a murderer."
"What did I miss, then?" Dylan asked jogging over to the party.
"It's settled, we go to the Chantry."
"What!"
They were never going to catch that merchant.