Authors note: This took forever to write, and that's not even including the revisions. Thank you to everyone who review and asked me to update. It's people like you that keep me wrtiting this story =). Thank you to insane for being my beta and giving me good suggestions. As always, Reviews and creative criticisms are welcome!

Part 2: Fear and Lothering

Chapter 4: The High Road

Ishafel was not afraid of the dark.

The Dalish taught their children when they were very young that the night was a friend. The darkness and cover she offered was to be respected, not feared.

It was not the dark that was scaring her, she told herself. It wasn't even dark exactly, there was a greenish pallor to the space that rendered light without allowing her to see. A vibration hung in the air, a slight murmur, as though somebody was talking. She strained to hear, only to pick up a few rhythmic strains of... something. What was it? A song?

The ground beneath her feet began to move and she struggled to stay in place. The harder she fought, the faster she went, until she was speeding over a cliff that she had not known was there and plummeted into the garish firelight of a thousand darkspawn camps. The darkspawn howled and bayed, thrashed and grinned with evil, totally oblivious to their elven observer.

The chill of fear bloomed into a cold sweat as she watched them. Dwarves and humans were pulled to pieces as teeth and claws as they were devoured. The tainted ones were kept in cages, shrieking in horror and shame as they fed on the former and twisted into something new. The caged ones, she couldn't help but notice, were mostly women. A knot formed in her gut as she guessed their purpose.

One, only one, was a man.

The damned turned in his cage, his eyes meeting hers. Unlike the horde, he saw her. Ishafel wrenched away as his clawlike hand reached out.

His skin was turning black and hard, his eyes a predatory yellow.

Tamlen.

She couldn't help it, she screamed. An unexpected answer pierced the air from a tower sprung from nowhere. Stumbling, she turned to see what it could have only have been: the Archdemon, its form twisted around the spire. Staring at her, it opened it's mouth to roar again, but it was Tamlen's voice that screamed in anguish.

"Ishafel!"

She tried to move, to reach for a weapon somehow, but her limbs were lead. Her reflection was trapped within the monster's eye.

"Ishafel!"

There was a sharp bark that was more canine than darkspawn. Her eyes snapped open and she froze in place.

It took her a moment to realize that she was sitting up and that she held her Dar'misu tensely in front of her, paused mid stroke. Directly in the path of her blade stood Sirius, his head cocked quizzically. He was very, very still. She dropped the blade as though it was molten hot.

"I'm sorry, my friend."

Sirius woofed companionably and forced his head under the palm of her hand. She scratched the top his skull gratefully. Thank The Creators war hounds were so forgiving.

"Bad dreams, huh?"

Alistair's voice brought her back to reality. His face, bathed in the warm glow of the firelight, carried an unmistakeable look of understanding that annoyed her. Beside him sat a haunted looking Dylan, knees tucked up to his chin. He stared out into the dark beyond the camp as though it hid monsters.

"It seemed so real..." She managed to squeeze out hoarsely. She hated how flustered she sounded. It was never a good idea to show weakness in front of shems, in front of anyone for that matter, even someone so obviously harmless as Alistair.

"Well, it is real," Ishafel's entire being went cold. "sort of."

Sort of. Her tongue turned to sawdust in her mouth as she struggled to find the right words to phrase the question. Alistair continued on in his explanation, unaware how pale his friend had suddenly become.

"You see, part of being a Grey Warden is being able to hear the darkspawn. That's what your dream was, hearing them. The Archdemon, it... "talks" to the horde and we feel it just as they do. That's how we know this is really a Blight."

"The Archdemon? Is that the dragon?" Dylan's voice cracked from Alistair's side.

"I don't know if it is really a dragon, but it sure looks like one. It likes to twist reality to suit it's needs, I'm told. I once had a dream where all the wardens turned into darkspawn before my eyes, the very men and women sleeping beside me..."

His eyes clouded over with regret, and he forcibly steered himself back on topic.

"But yes, that is the Archdemon. It takes a bit, but eventually you can block the dreams out. Some of the older Grey Wardens even say they can understand the Archdemon a bit, but I sure can't."

Ishafel took a deep breath, and then another, trying to stop the pounding of her heart. It wasn't real. It wasn't Tamlen.

"Anyhow, when I heard you two thrashing around, I thought I should tell you." A small smile played on his lips. "Although I have to say, Ishafel, I'm glad I let Sirius wake you. As it was, Dylan almost set my hair on fire!"

She didn't see how he could joke over something like this, and her expression must have shown it, because his look of amusement morphed into an apology.

"It was scary at first for me, too."

She breathed deep, taking in the familiar smell of forest and campfire and night air. She held it there, inside her, for a moment and released. Her heartbeat was almost back to normal.

"I'm not frightened," She informed them, rising. Sirius, lolling on the ground next to bedroll ,whined in protest.

Dylan raised an eyebrow at her, clearly in disbelief. Alistair gave her a smirk that made her feel stupid.

"I screamed like a little girl, my first time. Duncan said he thought I had somebody in my room. Not embarrassing at all."

She kept her face blank and he sighed. "Well, I thought it was funny. Sten and Leliana are on watch, Dylan and I have the next shift. You can rest a little longer if you like, it was a rough journey today."

"I've handled much worse," she told him stretching out her legs, the nightmare had left her with a tense energy she was keen to burn off.

"Dylan, I can switch shifts with, if you like." She offered, sheathing her dar'misu. "You are not used to the pace of travel, you'll probably fall asleep again."

"Again?" Alistair gave him a wide grin that bore the promise of teasing in the near future. Dylan glared at Ishafel over his knees irritably. His bloodshot eyes only strengthened her resolve, he looked far too tired to be trustworthy on watch.

"I can take care of myself, thank you."

"It's not yourself you are taking care of," She replied in a no nonsense tone. "When on watch, you are taking care of all of us."

"Yeah, I can do that too." he snapped, stumbling to his feet as Leliana and Sten approached the fire, "Come on, Alistair."

Leliana gave Ishafel a cheerful smile as she joined her around the fire's edge. In comparison, Sten barely acknowledged her, turning away from them both, he stood like a statue, face turned towards another fire in the distance.

Ishafel stared and the little bloom of light and the familiar crop of hair moving around it. Morrigan.

She blinked, it was darker than it had been for some time. There was a thick, angry blanket of cloud rolling in over the stars. It would rain tomorrow. She rolled the kinks out of her shoulder as she surveyed the campground, barely remembering laying her head down. The glen of oak and birch trees was a large space, well used by travelers, the fire pit already dug. Not the kind she would have chosen. It was a piss poor place for those looking to stay hidden.

"Shouldn't we have stayed further in, what if Loghain's soldiers were on the road?

"They'd see travelers at a well used campsite," Leliana replied cheerily, the smell of rain in the air had done nothing to dampen her sunny attitude. "A well used venue doesn't leave a camp for them to find, how could they know it was us here? That's why I chose it after all."

Ishafel had to concede the point.

"You sound like you've done this before, Sister."

Leliana said nothing for a moment, the cheery glimmer on her face dimming. After a moment, she let out a laugh that was not quite as genuine as it needed to be.

"Not all of us are born in the Chantry, you know. Some of us had much more colorful lives before coming to the cloister. I was a traveling minstrel before coming to the chantry, and you learn much on the road."

"Minstrel?"

"Ah! the Dalish would call them something different, I think? Perhaps storyteller? But with music?"

She shifted uncomfortably again, and they grew silent.

Tired of the tension in the air, she drifted away from the former sister, who was now patiently cleaning the battle marked leather armor they had procured for her in Lothering.

The Qunari stood at the very edge of the warmth of the fire.

"Why are we stopping?"

"I think we should talk for a moment."

He looked at her with a condescending amount of impatience.

"There are darkspawn to be fought. Is this delay needful?"

"Are you alright?" she asked, curious, "You were in that cage for weeks, or so I've been told."

He recoiled as though she had said something particularly insulting.

"You are concerned? No need. I am fit enough to fight."

Ishafel sized him up, right up to the grumpy disposition on his face. The man had gone weeks without food or water, following which he trekked miles of rough terrain. She could not do that if she was the strongest hunter in all the clans. She knew nothing of the Qunari; she didn't know if it was typical, but it was something to be admired.

"You said you were in the army?" She remembered out loud.

"I am." There was a slight puff to his chest. Pride. He seemed used to her kind of inspection. His shoulders were squared, and he stood straighter than when she had first come over. He saw this as a military review? Curious.

"Have you been in war?"

"I have always fought in war, elf."

Ishafel fought the urge to bristle.

"What do you mean by that?"

She realized too late that the set of his shoulders were made rigid by exhaustion and his jaw was clenched. He may have been strong, but he was fast approaching his limit. Hardly the time to be asking questions.

"I do not see how this matters, we should continue onward."

Her eyes narrowed as she came to a final decision.

"No."

"No?" he parroted incredulously.

"Sten, you are exhausted. My people know little of the Qunari, but any man who was denied food and drink for weeks and then forced on a day's journey would rightfully be exhausted. You need to rest."

"And while we rest, the darkspawn will tear apart your Ferelden."

"It will not happen in one night." She pointed out.

"It is not-"

"A solider knows to take care of himself until he is needed. You can't very well fight if you are half dead. Eat. Rest. We will move on at dawn."

She did not wait for him to answer, she strode onwards toward her original goal: Morrigan's camp. The witch had made herself quite comfortable, she noted with a tinge of anger, far far away from the rest of the camp. It was by no means easily defensible. It wouldn't do to lose her so quickly.

"This is unacceptable."

Morrigan fiddled with her private fire and lazily raised an eyebrow at her. "True, 'tis not mother's shack in the Wilds, but it will have to do.

"If we are attacked, you will be cut off from us."

"We will not be attacked. Dylan and I warded the camp with glyphs while you slept. Be it Loghain's men, or bandits, they could stand nose to nose with us and see only nothing."

"Be that-"

"You will not herd me!" she snapped, tired of bandying words "I am not a child to be lectured to. I can defend this camp and I will defend it from here."

As she opened her mouth to protest, a terrible scream rose from the front of camp. Temporarily forgetting Morrigan, she rushed back to the camp proper, the witch close at her heels, to find a rather humorous situation.

Bodahn's caravan stood in the entrance of the campsite.

Dylan looked liked he just had the Archdemon pop up behind him, hands on his knees, breathing hard. It was clear it was he who had screamed. A sheepish-looking Alistair explained.

"He says the younger dwarf just appeared in front of him with this," He held up the offending piece of darkspawn armor, there was a skull still attached to the top, "and said 'hello, pretty lady!'"

Alistair was struggling to hold in the mirth. Ishafel let out a long suffering sigh.

Sandal for his part, stood serenely next to his father, who looked properly horrified.

"And where were you?"

Alistair looked affronted, "I heard wheels on the road and went to check it out, and well, it is as you see."

"We didn't mean to alarm anyone; we fell behind the caravan we were to travel with awhile ago. We've camped here before and I sent Sandal ahead to scout out who might be here. The boy is really quite silent you see, good for spotting those who would be less than welcoming."

Dylan looked up from his knees to shoot Bodahn a nasty look.

"I remembered your kind offer in Lothering, so I thought we might travel together for a time. We didn't mean any harm." He finished in a rush.

"Well, you are welcome here, the two of you, provided you mind yourselves." She looked at Sandal who stared back placidly, "Especially you."

"Thank you very much, m'lady." Bodahn's face relaxed, "We can set the caravan up over here." He looked at the camp of bedrolls incredulously,.

"Is this all you have?"

"We aim to travel light."

"Well, I am most certainly willing to pay you for our protection with tents and the like. Protect you from the rain on it's way."

"That would be agreeable." She nodded in confirmation. "Alistair, Dylan, back to watch. The moon is not high in the sky yet; if, of course, you are properly recovered, Dylan."

His gaze shot out at her from beneath a fall of fire colored hair. Her smile sat crooked on her face.

"It's not funny!" he hissed.

"No it's not," she agreed, "Alistair should have been watching your back. Be more vigilant, the both of you. It would be a shame to have you gutted so soon." her smile stayed crooked.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Dylan blinked at her. "Come on," he motioned to Alistair, "before she tries again." He shuddered theatrically and Alistair snorted.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, but it still managed to rob Dylan of his rest. When he slept, he dreamed, and his dreams were monstrous. If he so much as closed his eyes, there were murmurs. He was awake to see the haze settle on the land, a warm humidity that promised rain, and he was already moving to pack up camp when the first drops fell. Morrigan was quicker, appearing from almost nowhere to drop her packs in Bodhan's cart. Sten finished quickly, but passed the cart in disdain to join Morrigan on the roadside, heavy gear resting solidly on his back. Tired as he was, Dylan fumbled with his own bedroll. Suddenly Leliana was beside him, saying something far too cheery for his mood and tackling the ties as though they were nothing. She even showed him a trick to the knot so it would hold better.

"What would someone like you be doing in Lothering's Chantry?" he blurted out, stunned.

Her hands stilled on the last tie. "What is meant by someone like me?"

Maker help him, he was as bad as Ishafel. That was no way to talk to a potentially crazy lady.

"You know," He gave his most charming smile, the one that made the female apprentices weak in the knees. "A beautiful, charming woman like yourself."

It had the desired effect. She smiled at him, a laugh glowing on her face.

"And there were no beautiful, charming women in the cloisters, you think? Oh, you would be wrong. Their were many- all virtuous and chaste. It adds to their mystique, because then the fruit is forbidden, and that make it that much sweeter, no?"

Leliana appeared to think quite a lot about beautiful women, Dylan thought to himself wolfishly. He forgot his resolve to deal politely with the insane temporarily.

"And what about your fruit, is it forbidden?" he asked in a low voice. Her head snapped up from her own pack.

"Excuse me? I...I can't believe we are having this conversation."

Dylan noticed, with the eye of someone well versed in flirting games, that she was nowhere near as startled that she pretended to be, the mark of an experienced player. A true novice would have blushed all the way up to her pretty hairline. Leliana just looked mildly disconcerted. There was more to the Chantry mouse than met the eye.

"I assume this conversation was meant to wheedle the secrets of my skills from me. I shall tell you what I told Ishafel, I was merely a traveling minstrel, my skills were learned on the road."

Morrigan let out a loud sigh from the roadside. "If it isn't too much trouble for the two of you, we should be on our way some time this year."

"Ah,"Leliana clucked, her face holding a small placating smile. "Shall we go?" She moved quickly, placing distance between them and effectively ending the conversation.

Dylan watched her go.

"The little Chantry mouse is keeping secrets," he said in a sing song voice to himself, not expecting Ishafel's answer.

"I agree," she said beside him, watching the red haired woman playfully pet Sirius as she laughed at something Alistair said.

"She knows how to move in these woods, like she's used to traveling fast and hiding in plain sight. She merits watching."

Dylan nodded tiredly. Ishafel looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"Are you alright? You do not appear to have rested well."

He smiled at her bitterly, narrowed eyes taking in the starkness of the designs on her face against paler than usual skin.

"You had the dreams, you know how I slept."

She swallowed dryly. "Dylan, What- What did you see?"

His eyes hardened. The dark look reminded her of the day after she had met him at the tower, repressed rage threatening to bubble over into something hard and tangible.

"Nothing of importance."

"I see."

The Archdemon had been playing with them all. Tamlen was dead, which was better than being alive at

the hands of the darkspawn.

Deep in her soul, she felt a mirthless chuckle. Unnerved, she motioned to Dylan, whose eyes still dwelt wherever the Archdemon had chosen to show him.

"Come" she added, "We must get going before the rain starts."

Despite Leliana's protests, they stayed off the main roads for the first few days. The rain had threatened to fall on that first morning continued in thick sheets on the second day and the sucking, squelching mud forced them back onto the paved King's High Road. Talking in a constant downpour was near impossible, and if their mission was any less dire, travel would not have even had been attempted. If they had been able to converse, it would have been a terse affair. The rain had made everyone more irritable than usual. Sten walked through the onslaught of rain as though it were nonexistent, his true feelings on the matter not even revealed by his face. Morrigan had at some point shifted into something else, what exactly Dylan was unsure, probably something that could swim. Dylan himself spent most of the day trying to perfect a shield to keep them dry, and while bloodying Alistair's nose when his attempt to walk through it failed, the thing couldn't keep out the rain. The only one among them who seem to enjoy the rain was Sirius who, despite it being a bit out of character for a wardog, enjoyed jumping and snapping at the raindrops that particularly offended him. Leliana fashioned her old chantry robes into a cloak and hood and was keeping her own spirits up by singing into the rain, but her voice was almost completely drowned out by the torrent.

The rain made the going much slower than planned and they were all extremely glad (even Sten, though he did not show it) to see the small hamlet of Prosper that marked the halfway point to Redcliffe. Prosper had been home to just a few even before the darkspawn attacks started, but now with fears of the Blight on the way, it seemed that just three families were left and all three were running the local inn together. Despite the villagers fleeing, and business failing, the group came into a surprisingly lively place. The innkeepers, all seven of them, were surprisingly optimistic about their circumstances and offered a clean and warm place for all to eat and rest their heads.

In short, it was the perfect place to stop for a day and dry off.

The day of rest was a comfort to all but Sten, who sighed and grumbled under his breath.

But when the weary party sat down to dinner, all of their tempers had improved.

"And here's a nice bone for you, doggie." The younger ginger haired barmaid said with admiration, "What a good boy you are, getting all those nasty ratties out of the cellar."

Sirius ate up the attention, giving a happy bark as he set upon his prize.

"You're lucky, to have one like him." she gushed to the party while serving them hot stew so good it made Dylan want to get down on one knee and propose. He settled for flirting shamelessly with her.

Ishafel ignored Dylan's blather, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She did not like this place as much as the humans, even Morrigan, did. Walls, especially human walls, felt too much like a cage. Her eyes scanned the room, jumping from patron from patron. She was surprised to find a set of eyes watching her. Green ones, as bright and as hard as polished emerald stone, met hers as they darted to and fro. They rested in the face of a human male who couldn't be much older herself, but younger perhaps than Dylan by a winter or two, she was unsure. He looked travel worn and weary, if his faded cloak and boots were any indication, but tough regardless. A scar, long since healed, started at the base of his eyebrow and followed the curve of his jaw to the shallow of his cheekbone. He had seen combat then. He must have appreciated her stare and liked what he saw in return, for he raised his tankard to her before taking a long sip.

"Oh, we haven't heard anything from Redcliffe for days now, but that's not all that uncommon. What with the knights gone and all, that part of the King's road isn't safe for those of us who aren't warriors like yourselves."

The barmaid's ramble and the clinking of the bowl being set down in front of her brought her back to her companions.

"So no juicy gossip from Redcliffe then, shame." Dylan sighed, "but surely you've heard gossip from elsewhere."

"Aye," She said, leaning on the side of the table in thought. She rattled off a series of totally irrelevant things and til she came to what was truly important. "And you know the Bannorn is all abuzz with news of the Grey Wardens. Can you believe them? They're supposed to be protecting us from the Nlight and instead they throw in with king-killers. No wonder the price on their heads has doubled." She clucked her tongue in disapproval, and smiled warmly at Dylan.

"You folks need anything, anything at all, you let me know."

The table sat in silence for a whole minute after she left.

"Well, it appears Loghain is running a smear campaign against the Wardens." Dylan said.

"Thank you for stating the obvious." Morrigan said before daintily beginning to eat.

"How does this matter? Does it interfere with you doing your duty?" Sten asked tersely

As the discussion, taking placed in hushed tones began to heat up. Ishafel's gaze wandered back to the stone eyed stranger.

He was gone.

They did not dally in Prosper any more than they needed to after the discussion with the barmaid. They were out on the road well before nightfall, and Ishafel was happy to have the cover of a small wood before long. The mist from the rain gave the trees around them a silvery appearance. The beautiful sight did not change the fact that she felt she was being watched. Every so often she swore she heard footfalls not their own. It was hard to tell, traveling with so many who were not clan, what everybody sounded like. But she had no notion of just how the grey figure was able to creep up on them up on them, all she was able to do was react as the cloaked figure flew out of the mist and toward Dylan. Sliding forward she insulated herself between the two of them, slamming her shoulder into Dylan and forcing him out of the way. The impact knocked both Ishafel and the mysterious attack down the ravine at the said of the road and the mist swallowed them whole.

Dylan's brain reeled and responded with the confused phrase "Whatiz?" before being planted face down in mud and spring moss. Sirius gave a skull shaking bark of alarm a few inches from his face before leaping into the abyss after his mistress.

He would have that headache for awhile, he was sure.

"Ishafel!" Alistair shouted, attempting to climb over a rotting protective railway that should have prevented such mishaps, but his plate mail was not keen on the idea. Leliana in her leathers was up and over far faster. She let out a terribly unladylike squeal as she realized how steep the ravine actually was.

Ishafel tried desperately to orient herself and keep her attacker's hands away from her neck as the pair tumbled down into the ravine. She partially succeeded, managing to land on top of him, only to be shoved off . The man was brutishly strong, if the shove were any indication. It took all her skill as a hunter not to fall over onto her back. Scrambling, she barely made it out of the way as he attempted to plunge a blade through her breastbone. Reaching for her Dar'misu, she was able to block his strike scant second before. He had speed as well as strength. Circling, she could see the contours of his face hidden beneath a shadow filled hood.

"Warden bitch, you will pay for what you've done!"

Ishafel felt the impatience that had been growing in her since Lothering spear through her.

Did humans just believe what they were told like young halla, eager to be led? Why was everyone so willing to believe the worst of them?

"And what have we done to you, stranger?" She spat, "Did a Warden look at you funny? Or are you another of the dishonorable rabble using Loghain's lies as an excuse to collect a bounty."

"Do you think it's funny to deny your crimes against my family. Tell me how long has been since the darkspawn no longer slake the wardens blood lust, how long has in been since the Wardens turned the blade to children!"

Light rain began to fall through the mist, casting a slick sheen on the ground around them.

His movement propelled her forward, blades met and sparked, before they darted away from each other. He hefted his weight against hers, using his own speed to thwart her ability to dance away. She felt her knees buckle and went with the sway, intending to roll through the mud to safety, but the ground was against her. Her foot lost purchase as she maneuvered, sending her spiraling to the muddy ground. She watched in horror as his blade swung up.

It was a death blow, they could both feel it. She could only wastch as the blade swung down towards its inevitable bloody conclusion.

Only to freeze.

"Aren't you happy one of us knows how to move in the rain?"

Morrigan stood scant few feet behind her attacker, her right hand shimmering with her magic.

Muffled sounds turned into a stomping rampage as the rest of the party clamored into the clearing.

Sirius fearlessly inserted himself between the man and Ishafel, growling.

Dylan huffed into the clearing only to see that Morrigan had the situation firmly in hand. He whistled low in respect. "Paralysis? Neat piece of work. I don't think I could have caught him myself."

Morrigan smirked.

Sten continued his march toward the frozen man, raising his sword high.

"Stop."

The qunari froze in place, greatsword in midswing "Why?"

Ishafel rose from the earth, once again dripping in mud. She gave a slight shake, but it clung to her regardless. Sirius looked up at her and whined. Placing an unmuddied hand on his head to reassure him that she was only a little bruised, she faced her hooded attacker.

"I would know what you meant." She asked the hood, "About Wardens killing children."

Alistiar and Dylan's faces took on twin looks of disgust.

"What?" Alistair spluttered. "The Wardens don't kill children! That's the most... can you believe how ridiculous that is? I mean, really?"

"I never killed a child in my life." Dylan seconded, "Maybe singed the ears of a few magelets, but I would never..."

"Speak."

"You may find he has slight difficultly," Morrigan noted, casually tossing back the man's hood.

Ishafel recoiled.

It was the travel beaten, stone eyed man from the inn. The marauder worked his jaw, grinding his teeth. His eyes blazed that almost unnatural green at her.

"Release his jaw."

He blinked and twitched "Bitch" He spat.

"Which one of use are you referring to?" Morrigan needled. His gaze stayed firmly on Ishafel, like a snake trying to hypnotize a mouse.

It was unfortunate for him that Ishafel no mouse.

"I'm sure neither of us has time for such pleasantries. I would know what you meant, and I would know now."

Alistair moved to stand beside her.

"You heard the nice la...wait," He paused studying his face. "I know you." Alistair said. "You were at Ostagar. Cousland; the younger brother. Fergus? No... Michael."

The rage in Michael's voice was barely controlled.

"How nice that the people responsible for the murder of my family, down to my four year old nephew, remember my name."

"We've told you," Dylan reminded him cooly, ice chips in his voice, "We don't know what you are talking about." He gently lifted Ishafel's wrist off of Sirius' head, and healed the blue blush of bruises already beginning to show. A slight smile and a nod were his thanks.

"Liars" he snarled, "Rendon Howe, an honorable man who fought beside the hero Loghain at the battle of the River Dane, told me the Wardrens were behind the assassination of my family!

"Assassination? The Couslands are dead? When?" Alistair's asked horrified.

"Howe said it was a month and a half ago, Right after my brother and I left for Ostagar."

"Why would the Warden's kill your family?" Dylan asked, confused.

"Howe said it was because my father refused to let our men go through the Joining. He the witnessed the fight with Duncan, Warden Commander, in our castle in Highever, the night before the assassination occurred, and came too late to stop it.

Ishafel and Dylan shared a look.

"That's impossible. Duncan had just recruited the two of us, we were on the road to Ostagar from the Circle." Ishafel informed him. "I was...recovering from illness. It slowed our travel time. We made it to Ostagar three days later than we were supposed to."

"There was no way Duncan could have gotten to Highever in that time. Not even with magical intervention." Dylan added.

"You seek to play me false? Howe is an honorable man and a friend of my family."Michael tried in vain to move, but was stuck in exactly the same position as before. He shot Morrigan a look that would have caused a lesser person to step back. She simply examined her nails.

"And the right hand of Loghain Mac Tir, traitor to the king." Dylan added.

"Isn't he the Arl of Amaranthine as well?"

"Aye, and a loyal friend of my father."

"A loyal friend whose land holdings are next to each other?" Leliana asked, Maneuvering around everybody to get a clear look at Michael, and there was almost the sound of a 'tut tut', in her voice.

"Tell me, if your entire family were to die, what would happen to the lands of Highever?"

The implication began to sink in. "They would be up for reassignment by the King."

"Who is dead." Ishafel added. She did not understand where this was going, but from the grim looks on everyone's faces, especially the attacker's, she could tell it was important.

"They would be reassigned by the regent, who is the queen. Loghain's daughter." Alistair said what all but Ishafel, and perhaps Sten and Sirius, already knew.

"Tell me what would the Wardens gain by killing your family?" Leliana continued on in her pleasant voice, but it was clear she was now driving her point home.

Michael was silent. She seemed to take that as his response.

"But Howe," tapping her finger to the side of her face in mock thought, "Loghain's right hand man, would be rewarded with a Teyrnir.

Michael said nothing still, but it was clear that Leliana's words had struck a blow.

"If Morrigan releases you will you still attack?" Ishafel asked, his arms had to hurt from being in the air for so long.

"No." His answer was curt.

Ishafel nodded at Morrigan.

"You believe him?" she asked with genuine curiosity. She shrugged, and the magic was gone.

"This is unwise." Sten stated under his breath, but no one was listening.

Michael dropped his sword, the metallic clang transformed into a dull splunch by the mud. He stumbled over to the a tree and collapsed against it, breathing hard as though someone had struck him.

In a way, someone had.

Ishafel looked out of the corner of her eye at the serene Leliana. That, whatever she had just did, was not something you learned on the road. Anyone could speak the facts, but there was something else, underlying words and actions that stuck out. She felt eyes on her, and shifted her own to the source. They met Dylan's whose darted away to Leliana and back to her own in seconds.

The meaning was clear, but it was a discussion for another time.

"How did you come to find us?" Ishafel asked him, bending down and picking up his sword.

"There was a delay of the second wave of my family's troops. Sylpheria... he paused for breath at the name, "My sister...was supposed to be leading them, but her messenger was late. By about two days. Fergus set me on his route to find out what happened. I am... was... the best tracker out of the two of us. But there was no messenger. By the time I turned around, Ostagar had already occurred. I met Loghain and Howe on the way back. They were surprised to see me..." Vicious anger twisted his face. "But I supposed they thought I was in the battle. Howe spun his now painfully obvious lie and I saw red. The idea that Wardens had killed my family, and were alive..."

"You ran straight into enemy arms and were too stupid to know it." Ishafel said scathingly. Michael's face purpled in response. "How was I supposed to know?"

"But how would they know about us? She asked, ignoring him, "They were gone from Lothering when we got there!"

"I do remember you sending a rather terse message to Loghain through one of his soldiers." Dylan reminded her dryly.

Ishafel opened her mouth to retort, found nothing to say, and came up with "Oh."

Michael gave Ishafel a sour look.

"I was looking for warden stragglers, particularly Duncan. I was attacked twice before I reached Prosper. I thought they were brigands. or worse," he laughed bitterly, "Wardens."

"Probably Howe's men." Leliana confirmed.

"Wait," Dylan held up his hands as though physically stopping the train of though. "You weren't looking for us specifically?"

"No."

"Then how did you know we were Wardens?"

Michael him a cat that got the canary smile. "You should be careful what you say around tavern wenches, you never know who they might talk to for coin. Although I confess..." he leveled his gaze back at Ishafel with an appreciative sweep. "At the time I was looking for information on her. Do you know how out of place a well armed elf is in a human inn?"

"He's got a point," Alistair acknowledged. "As much as I am loathe to say it, we should avoid inns from now on."

"Or maybe we should just keep him away from tavern wenches and make her wear a dress,"

Ishafel looked so revolted at that comment that Morrigan was tempted to give Michael a pat on the back.

"Wait, wait, wait! What do you mean we?"

"I mean I'm going to Redcliffe, you're going to Redcliffe, and taking the long way around. And now at least we have similar purpose. Arl Eamon is the only noble who I would trust. Why not go together?"

"Because you fully intended to kill me a moment ago." Ishafel almost shouted.

Michael gave her a smirk, "Can't we let bygones be bygones? Besides, I know the backroads around these parts pretty well. Or were you actually going to try to take that cart through the forest?"

"You can travel with us to Redcliffe. No further." She huffed.

"My dear, with an attitude like that, I'm quite sure you'll never get rid of me."

Authors endnote: And that is the end of Part 2! Things are getting busy for me at work, so there will probably be an interlude before Part 3: Cliffes of Red Blood. Please review and tell me what you think of Michael. He's going to be a thorn Ishafel's side through all of part 3, so I'd like to get some feedback on him. Till next time!