Thank you to WellspringCD, my beta reader, for doing such an excellent job. Also, many thanks to everyone who took the time to leave a review to the last chapter. It was very encouraging to get such a positive response!
Fearghal and Morrigan were waiting for him at the edge of the refugee camp.
"So, what's the plan?" Alistair asked tersely, glaring at Fearghal.
Fearghal's eyes were hard. They glanced at Alistair before looking past him at the swarm of refugees. He shrugged. "I don't know. We need supplies and we need to find out what's going on. We might be better splitting... "
Fearghal's eyes widened as he gazed over Alistair's shoulder. "Wait here," he muttered, pushing past Alistair and setting off, almost at a run.
Alistair spun round and saw Fearghal weaving through the refugees.
"Bennet! Bennet!" called Fearghal.
Alistair and Morrigan watched as a huge man in battered armour spun at the sound of Fearghal's voice, a look of shock giving way to joy.
Fearghal could hardly believe his eyes as he looked at the Highever man he had know for most of his life.
Bennet beamed at him. "Lord Fearghal!"
Fearghal frowned. "Lord no longer, Bennet. I'm a Grey Warden now. It's just Fearghal... or Warden Fearghal, if you insist."
Bennet looked puzzled. "A Grey Warden? But... I thought you were to stay at Highever."
Fearghal's face fell. "Let's go somewhere quieter to talk. There are too many people around here."
Fearghal led the way to the edge of the camp. Looking around to make sure they weren't overheard, he turned to face Bennet. Steeling himself, he told Bennet what had happened at Castle Cousland.
Bennet stared at him in shock. "I-I don't know what to say, m'lord. It seems so..." He stopped, lost for words.
Fearghal nodded stiffly, struggling to stifle the pain that welled up inside him. He gave the Bennet a moment to take in what he'd told him, then asked him hopefully, "What news of Fergus? I was told at Ostagar that he'd been sent out with a scouting party... "
Fearghal felt something inside him die at the look on Bennet's face. "Oh, m'lord... "
"What happened?" whispered Fearghal, the words almost choking him.
Bennet blinked back tears and cleared his throat. "W-we were out scouting, like you said, Lord Fearghal. We knew where the main horde was supposed to be but a large party must have split off... we almost fell over them." He rubbed his hand over his face. "It was chaos. There were darkspawn everywhere. We were badly outnumbered and... " he trailed off, then tried again. "I didn't see what happened to Lord Fergus, I lost track of him. I managed to get away and started heading back to Ostagar, then I started meeting the occasional soldier who survived that mess." He shrugged tiredly. "I haven't seen any other Highever men," he admitted reluctantly.
Fearghal turned away, blinking, his eyes stinging with tears. When he'd regained control of his emotions, he turned back to Bennet.
"What happened at Ostagar, Lord Fearghal?" asked Bennet quietly. "I've heard all sorts of wild tales."
Fearghal sighed. "We... myself and another Warden, were to light a signal beacon for Loghain," he explained. "When we got there, the place was overrun with darkspawn and it took too long to get the beacon lit. We were late and Loghain withdrew his men."
Bennet frowned. "Beg pardon, m'lord," he said tentatively, "but that's not the story being put about."
"What do you mean?"
Bennet shifted uncomfortably. "Word in Lothering is that Loghain says the Grey Wardens betrayed the king. He's declared himself Regent."
"That's a filthy lie!" Fearghal exclaimed.
Bennet held his hands up. "I don't doubt you, m'lord. There's lots of folks that don't believe it, but that's what Loghain is saying. You'll need to take care in Lothering. There's a bounty offered for any surviving Grey Wardens and enough folk here desperate enough to try and collect it."
Fearghal nodded thoughtfully. "What are your plans?" he asked.
Bennet shrugged. "I don't rightly know, m'lord. I was planning to head home, but now... "
"I'm travelling with another Warden and a wi... mage. Why don't you join us for now? Just in case we run into trouble in the village."
Bennet nodded, cheered at the prospect of being under his lord's command again.
"Remember what I said, Bennet. I'm just Fearghal now. Loghain might not be the only one looking for me. No more 'm'lord' or 'Lord Fearghal'."
"I understand, m'l... Fearghal." Bennet smiled at Fearghal sheepishly.
"By the way, the mage is a hedge witch, an apostate. Don't broadcast the fact, we don't want the templars down on us as well."
Bennet nodded, eyes wide.
Fearghal looked over to where Alistair and Morrigan stood, watching and waiting. He raised his arm and beckoned them over. When they joined him he made introductions.
"This is Bennet, an old friend of mine. Bennet, this is Alistair and Morrigan."
Alistair craned his head back to look up at the mountainous man who stood before him, the stranger's face friendly and open. Warily he extended his arm and tried not to wince when a huge hand clasped his wrist in a crushing grip.
Bennet nodded, his smile friendly. "Well met, ser Alistair." He glanced across at Morrigan, obviously trying not to stare. "Miss." Bennet bobbed his head at Morrigan then hastily averted his eyes.
In turn, Alistair tried not to stare at Fearghal's friend. He'd never seen anyone so big in his life. The man was almost seven feet tall and nearly as broad as he was tall. Short, grey hair covered his head, his eyes were light blue and calm. Alistair had never felt small before; it was an odd sensation. A friend of Fearghal's, eh? He seems remarkably sane.
Quickly, Fearghal related the news that Bennet was told him. Alistair was, predictably, outraged to hear that the Grey Wardens had been accused of betraying King Cailan by Loghain. They decided to look round Lothering and pick up supplies. Bennet went and retrieved a well-worn pack. It hung limply in his big hand.
"Spare shirt and a pair of boots," he said with a shrug.
Fearghal laughed. "That's more than we have right now!"
Alistair watched as Fearghal and Bennet led the way. They didn't say much but were obviously comfortable with each other. His eyes wandered over the huge two-handed sword that hung down Bennet's back. The symbol engraved on the pommel was the same as the device on Fearghal's shield. They came to a halt once in the village proper, trying to get their bearings. A small boy by the bridge tapped Fearghal on the leg.
It was almost comical, Alistair thought, how Fearghal's head swivelled round in surprise, then down at the small boy.
"Have you seen my mother?" asked the boy.
That Fearghal would crouch down to the boy's level and patiently coax his story out of him wasn't what Alistair expected at all, but it was what Fearghal did. Alistair expected him to growl at the boy and send him off with a flea in his ear. He watched bewildered. This was the same man who'd beaten a bandit to death not an hour before. As Fearghal advised the boy to go to the Chantry, Alistair cast a surreptitious glance at Bennet. The big man listened intently to the conversation but seemed unsurprised by it.
Fearghal stood and watched the boy walk to the Chantry then turned and headed to a nearby merchant. The merchant was engaged in a heated debate with one of the Chantry sister's, who seemed to be accusing him of profiteering. The merchant angrily justified his actions. Alistair stiffened as Fearghal and watched the argument, his arms crossed across his chest.
The merchant spied Fearghal watching him. "Ho! You there! You look able! Would you care to make a tiny profit helping a beleaguered businessman," he offered.
"Is your profiteering ruffling some feathers?" asked Fearghal, his voice calm but cold.
Alistair couldn't see Fearghal's face, but the merchant obviously could.
"You could say that, yes," he allowed grudgingly, shuffling nervously.
Alistair was relieved when Fearghal mediated the dispute without resorting to violence.
"Fine, fine. Done," said the merchant, throwing up his hands. He glared at Fearghal. "And since you don't look too needy, normal prices for you."
Fearghal threw back his head and laughed. "So long as they are normal prices."
Fearghal suggested that Alistair and Bennet see if there was any work on the Chantry board and headed round the back of the cart with the merchant, reeling off a long list of supplies.
"Well," said Alistair cheerfully. "No-one died. That's an improvement."
Bennet looked at him oddly. "Eh?"
"He beat the last robber we met do death," Alistair told him.
Obviously shocked, Bennet looked across at Fearghal.
Alistair decided to follow a hunch. "You're from Highever too?"
Bennet nodded absently, frowning.
"You know Fearghal well then," said Alistair. It was more of a statement than a question.
"You could say that," agreed Bennet, look back at Alistair, his eyes troubled. "Known him since he was knee-high to a grasshopper." He looked back at Alistair. "You say he beat a man to death?" he asked, obviously finding it hard to believe. "Are you sure?"
"Am-am I sure?" spluttered Alistair. "Seeing as I had to pull him off the bloody corpse he was still smashing his mailed fist into, yes, I'm sure."
Bennet shook his head and turned to examine the chanter's board. "That's not the man I know," he muttered.
"Well, I've only known him a few days but it doesn't seem... out of character," Alistair replied.
Bennet gave him a sideways look. "Grief takes men different ways," he said cryptically.
"Don't I know it." Alistair's tone was bitter.
Bennet looked at the younger man sympathetically and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "I reckon we've all lost a lot these last few days."
Alistair nodded miserably.
Bennet hesitated, then lowered his voice. "I dunno if I should tell you this... I just had to tell him that his brother's missing, probably dead."
Alistair groaned quietly, then nodded. "Thanks for the warning."
Both men jumped guiltily when Fearghal's voice sounded behind them. "Come on, you two, you can help pack this lot up. Anything interesting on the board?"
"More bandits," said Alistair, coldly.
Fearghal peered over his shoulder. "Good coin. It'll be useful."
Bennet shrugged at Alistair and followed Fearghal to where Morrigan and Bane waited next to an alarmingly large pile of supplies. Bennet quickly stowed the gear neatly and efficiently into the three packs that Fearghal had purchased and his own. Alistair watched, impressed; the man was obviously very experienced.
Once the gear was packed, Fearghal hefted one onto his shoulder and set off back to the refugee camp. Alistair picked up another pack and was amused when Bennet picked up the other two. Morrigan looked slightly irritated, but not enough to insist on carrying the heavy pack herself. Fearghal led the way to a quiet corner of the camp.
"I think we should leave the gear here with one of us to guard it, while the rest of us look around and sort out Lothering's bandit problem."
"Well, if you're planning on beating them to death, then I volunteer to guard the gear," said Alistair disgustedly.
Fearghal glared at him, flushing slightly. "I was going to suggest that Morrigan stayed behind."
"What?" exclaimed Morrigan indignantly.
"One of the templars stationed at the Chantry kept staring at you, I think it's best if you stay as much out of their sight as possible," explained Fearghal.
"Templars!" scoffed Morrigan. "I do not fear those Chantry fools."
Fearghal smirked at Alistair. "I daresay you don't; however, we want to attract as little attention as possible."
Grudgingly, Morrigan agreed to stay with their newly acquired supplies. Fearghal offered her Bane, an offer that was refused with disdain. Fearghal, Alistair, Bennet and Bane headed out to look for bandits, which they found aplenty. On the whole, the bandits seemed to be ill-equipped, desperate men preying on those even weaker than themselves. Alistair was impressed with Bennet; he wielded his huge two-hander with skill and ease. The three men fought well together; Fearghal's shoulders relaxed and his customary scowl disappeared. Although Fearghal and Bennet didn't speak much, it was a comfortable, companionable silence and not one that Alistair felt compelled to fill.
They came to a farmhold, seemingly abandoned.
Fearghal looked round. "I wonder if this was where that boy was from? Let's have a look around."
Fearghal entered the house and Alistair and Bennet searched the outbuildings and barn but there was no sign of anyone alive or dead.
They met up outside. "The house has been ransacked," Fearghal told them. He sighed. "Let's head back down to the village."
Slowly they made their way back down to Lothering. As they neared the village, a small flash of colour in a clump of trees caught Alistair's eye.
"Look! Over there," he said, pointing.
As they neared the trees, they could make out the body of a woman. Her drab dress had been pulled up around her hips, exposing white legs; bright red hair spilled across the green grass.
Alistair heard Fearghal gasp and looked across. He was startled to see Fearghal looked ashen. Perspiration beaded his forehead and he looked as if he was about to be sick.
Bennet turned Fearghal around and gave him a little push back towards the lane. "We'll see to her, lad. Go on, we'll catch you up shortly."
Fearghal nodded absently and lurched back towards the lane, Bane following him anxiously. Alistair followed the big man to the trees, his own stomach lurching. The woman was laid on her back, empty eyes staring up at the sky. Her throat had been cut and dark, clotting blood had pooled around her body.
Bennet sighed sadly. "Some men are evil bastards, right enough," he said pulling the dress down to cover her legs. "Least we can do is make her decent until the Chantry sends someone up to fetch her."
Alistair looked away, embarrassed. He turned back in time to see Bennet slip her wedding ring off her finger. "What are you doing?" he demanded furiously.
"For the boy," he explained. "Something to remember his mam by." As he rose, his face darkened. "Why? Did you think I was..."
"I'm sorry," said Alistair. "It was stupid of me, I didn't think."
"Hmmph! Well, maybe you'd better start, boy," retorted Bennet shortly.
Alistair nodded miserably.
Together they headed down to where Fearghal waited on the lane. By the time they reached him his colour was better.
"All sorted. Got her wedding ring; for the boy," Bennet told him, with a dark look at Alistair.
As they headed down into Lothering, Fearghal's shoulders were tense, one fist clenched around the hilt of his sword.