(And a digital cookie for poison1234 for guessing it. And welcome aboard, anesor. :) )

104. An Abrupt Departure

The hall outside Eamon's room was cluttered, as if they were all waiting for either a birth or a death. The two healers and Teagan had gone inside with the pouch of Ashes some time ago, and the wait was making some of the Wardens go a little stir-crazy.

The ex-Templar had pulled a chair up from somewhere and set it right next to the door. He slumped in it now, his feet tapping and fingers fidgeting. Next to him stood a pale-faced kid named Connor, waiting for news about whether he'd lose his daddy too.

Garott kinda hurt for the kid. It had to be hard, seeing his entire family knocked down in one blow. Not that the sprout knew what that blow was… the kid had no memory of what had happened, as far as anyone could tell. Garott knew the story better than the kid did, and he'd literally been under a rock during the entire mess.

Garott leaned against the wall opposite Alistair. Everyone else was arranged along the walls down the corridor: elf, drunkard, assassin, Dalish elf, bard, witch, Qunari, the kid… even the blood mage had been dragged out of somewhere. Now, he was trussed up in anticipation of Eamon's judgment, a guardsman close at hand behind him.

The captain paced between them, his pooch watching him at it with an occasional anxious whine. Of all of them, Percival seemed to be the most nervous about the outcome, which was kinda funny, considering Alistair was the one with the personal connection. Ah well, maybe it was just part of Captain Cousland's special brand of crazy.

Finally, Felicity's head poked out of the doorway. She flashed them a tired smile. "Connor and Alistair, you can come in now."

Said blond jumped to his feet, but recovered himself before he physically shoved past the girl he was sweet on. He and Connor filed into the room, and Felicity disappeared again with a soft shut of the door.

Percival sat in his vacated seat, slumping forward in relief. "Maker… I suppose that means he's all right, at least."

"I wonder what took so long," Fin asked softly. "When the Ashes healed my throat, it was instantaneous."

"Hm, but a poison destroys much more than a single part of the body, my Warden," the assassin said beside him. "There was far more to heal. The Ashes are miraculous, but not that miraculous."

Garott snorted a laugh.

"Why did you guys take so little of it?" Kazar asked, disdain thick. The kid had been a real piece of work, lately. Killing Flemeth had gone to his head, as far as Garott could tell. Watching the tug and pull between him and the captain was hilarious. "If we had the whole Urn, we'd be invincible. We could crush both the Blight and Loghain without a scratch."

"Miracles aren't meant to work that way," the bard said. "Anyone who was so greedy as to take the entire Urn for themselves would be selfish and thoughtless not to leave some for future generations."

"So?" the kid said succinctly.

"The immortal Guardian wouldn't have allowed it anyway," Finian said. "It's a moot point. It was either take just a pinch, or get squashed by a thousand-year-old ghost."

"This from the guy who rode a dragon," Garott chuckled.

Fin smiled back. "What can I say? I couldn't climb the Guardian—no good footholds. I'm afraid of things I can't climb."

Their conversation was interrupted by the door again, this time opening wide to allow a group of people to step out into the hall. First was the old woman and Amell, then a man Garott had seen only in sleeping form.

Eamon's eyes were sharp, for a guy his age. His gaze swept over all of them, and Garott recognized the same political type of mind behind a gentle facade that he'd seen a hundred times in Orzammar. Most recently, he'd seen it in Bhelen and Harrowmont… before the former cut the head off the latter, anyway.

Garott exchanged a glance with Finian, who nodded to indicate that he saw it too. He doubted anyone else was sharp enough to see it.

They'd have to be careful if they were handing their reins over to this guy. Having a good politician on their side wasn't a bad thing, but they needed to make sure they didn't get the short end of that deal.

Teagan and Alistair followed Eamon out. "Everyone?" Alistair said, beaming. "This is Arl Eamon. Eamon, meet the last resistance Ferelden has against the Blight."

Eamon smiled with soft humor. "Certainly an eclectic group. It is nice to meet you all. Your companions have informed me of the situation, and I feel it is imperative that we act immediately."

Percival stood. "And what action would that be?"

Eamon's eyes turned to the golden boy, and the old man paused. "You look familiar, Warden."

"Percival Cousland, sir. Last living member of my line."

"Is that so? I'm sorry to hear that, son. Your father was a good man." Eamon looked genuinely saddened by that news. Must've been hard, actually, to fall asleep for a couple months and wake up in a completely different world.

"So?" the witch asked impatiently. "What is to be our course of action?"

"A Landsmeet." Eamon shook off his grief for now, his voice gaining its previous confidence. "I will call a Landsmeet immediately, summoning all Ferelden's leaders to Denerim to take control back from the usurper. Once that's done, we will have the armies of the other arlings to call from, which means we will be able to march against the archdemon."

"We already have an army," Kazar snapped. "One with mages, and Dalish, and golems. What more could a bunch of humans do? We should be marching now."

"I think, child, you misunderstand the sheer numbers of the horde."

"The fuck I do. We just got back from the Deep Roads. You've been asleep for the entire Blight. If anything, you misunderstand what a couple well-prepared Wardens can do."

Yep. Killing Flemeth had definitely gone right to his head. Even his old Circle buddy seemed afraid of him now.

"Kazar," Percy sighed, "we are not marching on the horde with Loghain nipping at our heels."

"Forget Loghain! He's nothing but a flash in the pan! The Blight is real, and long, and permanent if it isn't stopped. Let this old man handle the politics. We need to head for that archdemon now."

"Kazar!" Percival drew himself up to full height, his voice snapping out with all the authority of a tried and tested general. "We are going to Denerim for the Landsmeet, and that is final."

Something happened, then. Garott wasn't quite sure what it was, but it seemed to shake up the other Wardens. Kazar's whole mien changed into something far more dangerous than a little elf kid. His eyes flickered with red light for the briefest of moments, and when he next spoke, there was an undercurrent of a much deeper voice speaking alongside his own.

"I will not be commanded. You have been holding me back, and I refuse to tolerate it any longer. Go to your Landsmeet, humans. By the time you are finished, I will have taken care of the Blight myself!"

To punctuate his point, he launched a fireball into the middle of the hallway, but Wynne and Felicity both snapped up elemental shields to contain most of the damage. Garott felt a blast of heat on his face all the same.

Once the smoke had cleared, Kazar was gone. Eamon called for his guards to chase down the kid, but Garott knew the only thing they'd have to show for it was a few new burns... if they were lucky.

Alistair turned wide eyes to Percival. "Percy, that was…"

"I know." The captain had gone pale, staring at the spot the kid had disappeared from.

Garott raised his hand. "I don't. What just happened?"

"Kazar's an abomination, Garott," Felicity said softly. Like the kid had torn out her heart with that one.

"How did that happen?" Alistair said, and he sounded accusing now. "When we separated, he was a piece of work, sure, but he didn't have a demon inside him."

"It had to be the blood magic," Felicity said. "After all, blood magic does make one more susceptible to demonic influence."

"Wait, hold up. Blood magic? Kazar's been using blood magic?" Alistair turned an incredulous look on Percy. "And you knew about this?" Then, to Felicity. "And you knew about this? Everyone knew about this?"

Garott didn't care for the accusation in the Templar's voice, even if it was mostly directed away from him. He stepped in, crossing his arms. "Hard to miss, when it saved our asses a bunch o' times."

"Felicity," Wynne asked sharply, "is this true?"

The other mage was near tears. She nodded. "We tried to get him to stop, but he refused. He's been getting more standoffish… we should have noticed something was wrong."

"I don't think so," Garott said. "However it happened, this was gradual. None of us coulda known."

The Dalish elf spoke up. "Of more import than arguing about how it happened, is deciding what to do about it. Are we going after him? Can he yet be saved?"

"Saved?" Alistair said, his incredulity rising to dangerous levels. He'd probably pop a vein soon. "He's been dealing with demons, and you want to save him?"

"He is as kin to me," she said sharply. "Of course I want to save him."

"That's all well and dandy, but it's not even possible! There's no way to separate an abomination!"

"Yes," Felicity said quietly, her voice warbling a bit, but she managed not to start bawling, thank the Stone. "There is. The spell used for..." Her eyes flickered toward the arl's room, where Connor still lingered. "...the one Kazar used here. It may be possible."

That pulled the momentum right out of Alistair, and he stared at the girl in shock. "You too, Felicity?"

"We need every Warden we can get, don't you think? Especially with Marnan gone. Without Kazar's firepower, our chances of defeating the archdemon will drop significantly."

"Put that much stock into his fireballs, do you?" And now he was snapping at his girlfriend. Stone, this whole thing had the Templar tightly wound.

"Yes, but it's more than that. We're Grey Wardens, and that means we must stand together. We owe him to try to save him, even from himself." She wiped at her eyes. "He won't thank us for it, but it's enough that he be safe and free."

Alistair stared at the girl for a while. Then, he heaved a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Andraste's knickers. Fine. Let's go after the bloody elf and drag him back kicking and screaming. Sounds like fun."

"Alistair," Eamon broke in. "We're going to need you at the Landsmeet. Without you, we have no means of challenging Loghain."

Alistair stiffened, then turned wide eyes to Eamon. "That's your plan? Using my bloodline to… Eamon, you know I want no part in that!"

"We won't have a choice, Alistair."

Well, this was interesting. There was something being unsaid here.

"No. I refuse. And you know what? I have a good reason to go after that abomination, better than anyone here." Alistair drew himself up straight. "I was trained as a Templar. If anyone can handle Kazar at his most possessed, it'll be me."

"Alistair, we need you here." Garott watched with grim amusement as Eamon saw his plan crumbling around him. "You don't even know where the boy went or what he intends."

"I do."

That soft, squeaky voice was Jowan's, who everyone had forgotten was even there, tucked into the far corner as he was. His guard tugged at his bindings, but the mage still met their gazes grimly.

"He's going back to the Dead Trenches, where you lot saw the archdemon. He's going to try to take it down himself."

"Is he strong enough to walk into the Deep Roads alone?" Fin asked.

"With a demon inside him, possibly," Felicity said. She cast a quick look at Alistair. "I wish to come too. To make sure he gets back all right."

"And I." Meila stepped forward. "I will help track him."

"Even into the Deep Roads?" the bard asked.

"He is kin to me, satusulahn. I will follow him to the realm of the Forgotten Ones themselves."

Leliana took the elf's hand. "Then I will come with you."

"I want to go, too." That was Jowan again. Everyone turned to stare at the apostate, who swallowed.

"You are in no position to go anywhere," Teagan said harshly.

"Please, Arl Eamon." Jowan tried to step toward the noble, but his guard tugged him back. "I know I have a lot to answer for, and I swear that I will… but Kazar is… was… my best friend, and the ritual is going to need me."

"Blood magic will not be necessary," Felicity was quick to say. "We can get lyrium when we go through Orzammar."

"You're still going to need at least two mages. And it's my spell; I know it better than either you or Wynne."

Said enchanter was pursing her lips in quiet disapproval, but had yet to comment.

"Why save him at all?" Teagan asked. He wasn't mean about it; he seemed more baffled than anything. "Even if you manage it, it will be a waste of time and resources when we will need all the forces we can muster at the Landsmeet."

"A Landsmeet will take a while to gather, won't it?" Fin said thoughtfully. "For all the nobles to gather their men and head to Denerim? I'm sure this will be taken care of by the time everyone's ready."

"But I do not see why you insist on chasing a boy who has all but abandoned you."

"Did you not do the same, Teagan, risking everything for your brother?" Finian gestured at Eamon, who was wearing the look of a man who'd accidentally swallowed nug droppings with his porridge. "You led a ragtag defense of the town and gave yourself over to a demon, all in hopes of saving your fallen, demon-bound brother. Isn't it the least we can do, to do the same for our brother?"

"And you expect us," Eamon said slowly, "to allow Alistair to go on this dangerous mission, when he will be needed in Denerim?"

"He's the only person in Ferelden who is both Templar and Warden. This makes him uniquely suited to facing an abomination in the Deep Roads." Fin shrugged. "Or else you could force him to come with you, and risk losing several more Wardens in the Deep Roads instead. That will leave us with, what, four of us to face the horde?"

The words were getting through to Eamon. This was a man who wasn't used to being told 'no,' no doubt relying on his easy manner to grease most wheels. But Alistair was kicking back, so he knew that the only way to keep things moving was to make sure that his tool's side mission was as efficient as possible.

Smart elf. Garott was glad he was on their side.

"Very well," Eamon said around a sigh. "Alistair, this task must be carried out as quickly as possible. It will take only a matter of weeks before the Landsmeet will be ready. Two weeks. Promise me that you will be in Denerim in two weeks, whether you find this boy or not."

"I promise," Alistair said gravely.

"Jowan," Eamon said, turning to the apostate, "I will allow you to go as well. But you will come right back here afterward. Alistair, I am charging you with the responsibility of seeing him back to Redcliffe to face justice for his crimes."

"Of course, Eamon. You have my word."

"In the meantime," Percival broke in, "the rest of us should head for Denerim. At the very least, we can feel out the situation with the rest of the nobility."

"Figure out who's on our side," Finian said with a nod.

"Start greasin' the palms of the ones that ain't," Garott said with a wink at the elf.

"An excellent idea," Eamon sighed. "At the very least, the word of a Cousland should help offset whatever lies Loghain has been spreading. You may stay in my city estate, as a sign of my personal support."

"We thank you, Arl," Percival said diplomatically. "You five had better get going as soon as possible, if you want to catch up with Kazar before he gets into the tunnels."

"Right," Alistair sighed. "It was nice seeing you all again, as short as that lasted."

"Some of us are rather enjoying the shortness of it," Morrigan said with a smirk.

"Right, yes. Didn't miss you."

Meila was the one to sigh and start off down the hall, nodding a short farewell as she passed. Leliana followed, pausing to give Finian a hug. Only when Felicity had exchanged a couple soft words with Wynne did she and Alistair head off as well, the latter grabbing Jowan by the ear and dragging him off as well.

That left the rest of them, all set to head for the Ferelden capitol, apparently.

"Well," Percival sighed. "We'd better get packing ourselves. We'll be leaving for Denerim first thing in the morning."