Chapter 14 – Where the Wind Blows
That damned Templar was slowing them down again…
Alistair threw a cursory look over his shoulder, lip curling. It didn't take long to see that Ser Myfanwy and Greagoir were lagging too far at the back of the group; dangerous in the Deep Roads where stragglers were easy pickings for darkspawn, deepstalkers and cave spiders. There seemed little he could do about it, even knowing full well what his fate would be if Greagoir's parents ever found out he had anything to do with their only child's death underground. He figured once Alyce Amell found out he'd conscripted Greagoir into the Order his life was pretty much forteit anyway.
There was no convincing Greagoir to leave the Templar behind. He was just as stubborn as his adoptive mother…and his biological father. Alistair almost felt a sense of pride in telling himself this. Almost. 'Almost' because right now Greagoir's stubbornness was putting himself and the others at risk. The Senior Warden had been hoping to spend as little time in the Deep Roads as possible. Needing to stop at increasingly frequent intervals to give the two of them time to catch up was turning what should have been a brief jaunt underground into an unnecessarily long journey. Worry about the tampered-with road markers did not help matters either. The longer they took the more Alistair wondered whether he had taken a wrong turn somewhere…but no. His maps told him they were on the right track. His maps wouldn't lie.
There was something else that was bothering him, though it was a something that he was grateful for, given the present company: the lack of darkspawn underground.
While the route he'd taken had been purposely chosen to keep them mostly away from known darkspawn areas as much as possible, this was the Deep Roads. Up on the surface, he'd been encountering slightly more than usual - and larger - groups of darkspawn so he'd been expecting the same if not, more in actual darkspawn territory. While the numbers he'd met were hardly a prelude to another Blight it was yet another concern to add to the list. He was familiar with the acting Ferelden Warden Commander, but despite having defeated the Blight here, Wardens in Ferelden were not what they should be. The two with him now were a third of the entire Ferelden complement. A. Third.
If he was a distrustful person, Alistair told himself, he'd think that Warden Commander Neria Surana had given orders to her Second not to recruit too many Wardens. If any.
If he was a paranoid as well as distrustful…or not believe darkspawn had less intelligence without an Archdemon than your average land mollusc, he'd also think the darkspawn were…looking for something.
But all that would be…silly.
The image of the barely conscious Ser Myfanwy being half-dragged by Greagoir behind them swam completely involuntarily into view. Alistair forced his attention back to the road ahead, away from his godson (and Maker, no pun intended there) and the Templar that caused his back teeth to grind.
A child with the soul of an old god is not an old god…
That's what she'd told him and he'd trusted her. The darkspawn wouldn't come looking for him.
There are some things worth preserving, aren't there?
It hadn't occurred to him until…afterwards that she hadn't specified just what they'd be preserving. Certainly, not his self-respect, but he hadn't just trusted Neria Surana. He'd loved her. And she'd told him that she had loved him. Beautiful, brave, intelligent, kind Neria Surana. Only two out of those four had turned out to be true in the end.
One scared little mage. Right? Huh.
Why was he even thinking about Neria anyway? Now, of all times? Alistair sighed, rolling his eyes at his foolish nostalgia. In any case, in the end he'd agreed to that ritual for reasons of his own. When Morrigan had told him he would never see his child ever, he'd never dreamed…Yet, there was Greagoir. Ugh, lagging at the back of the group even further!
"Boss?"
Alistair adjusted his viewpoint to a level slightly above his mid-section. Warden Denny twinkled up at him with a pair of large, blue eyes that for some reason made him too aware of those small gaps in his armour where the straps and buckles needed to be instead of being covered head to unexposed toe in impenetrable metal. He gave himself a shake, dispelling the thought.
"Yess?"
"Troops are lookin' tired," she said nonchalantly, with a very convincing not-look at Greagoir far behind them. "Mebbe we should stop? For a bit? Think I might have blisters on my…blisters." She paused, as though listening to something Alistair couldn't hear. "Yup," she confirmed with a nod. "Definitely blistering blisters."
Alistair stared. He wished, for once, he was sitting behind his too-ornate desk back in Jader, just so he could drum his fingers on them.
"Well," he said, manfully resisting the urge to pat the Warden on the head. "We can't have that, can we?" Even if we can't really afford the time…and you know it too, don't you Warden-stop-batting-your-eyelashes-at-me-because-it-is-so-not-going-to-work-alright-it-just-did.
"Alright team!" he called out, turning to the rest of the group. "Five minute break!"
"Twenty," a small voice said quietly.
"Five," Alistair repeated sternly. Shaking his head, he re-installed his inner Senior Warden and, with a hand on Denny's shoulder, gently, if firmly steered her out of the way. "I'm going to scout ahead," he told her. "If you hear screaming it'll probably be me, being eaten by darkspawn. Or a volcano."
Denny grinned a grin of the selectively deaf. "Sure boss. We'll come running, no problem."
-oo-
How was it that despite the tightness and general impermeability of her boots, there was always sure to be a mound of sand and grit inside them? As if she'd been wading upside down in a sand pit? Emptying the offending collection of dirt from her boots, Denny was in the process of knocking out the last of the muck, when Diele approached, hunkering down next to her with a grunt.
"Senior Warden's not back yet," the elf muttered.
Eh?" Denny pulled on her last boot and frowned suddenly – a jolt of…something had just shot up her arm – and gave her fingers a bit of a shake. Had she hurt herself taking off her boots? That was absurd even if it was the same sort of sensation a person got when they banged their funny bone in just the right spot. But…Ah, this surfacer's been underground too long. I'm imagining things. Denny squeezed her hand shut tightly into a fist, redirecting her thoughts to her fellow Warden.
"Missing the Hero of Ferelden huh?" she asked, but Diele was only half-listening, her attention being on the road ahead. "Be careful," Denny warned. "People are going to talk."
"Senior Warden Alistair isn't the Hero of Ferelden," Diele corrected. "He was her side-kick."
"Ooh…mean girl," Denny continued to tease, flexing her flingers one by one as the tingling sensation returned. Okay, now this is really odd.
"It took an elf, not a human to defeat the Archdemon," Diele continued, with a lofty glare at her friend.
"Who was also a nasty, dirty, Maker-forsaken mage…" Denny reminded, poking fun at Diele's well-known aversion to the wonders of magic.
Diele narrowed her eyes at the dwarf. "I don't have a problem with mages," she denied in a hiss. "It's…nasty, dirty, Maker-forsaken apostates that I take issue with."
Denny rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure…" She'd been about to make a snappy retort about her devout Andrastrian friend not having much truck with small female Templars either, when something bright and brief flashed from one of her fingers to another. Startled into a hiccoughing gasp, she blinked rapidly. Nothing further happened. Just her imagination again? She glanced at Diele, but her friend had not appeared to have noticed; unfurling her legs to stand.
"I suppose I should…Ouch! Hey, what have you been doing?" Diele had touched Denny's shoulder briefly; just a mere tap, snatching her hand back and rubbing at the exposed skin on her arm and scowling in hurt. "Dragging your feet?" she demanded. "What's with the static charge?"
Denny tilted her head to the side. Dragging my feet over stone won't give me a static charge…"I just have…" Denny really was beginning to wonder now. "An electrifying personality?" she suggested.
"If you say so," Diele shook her head, unable to stay angry or annoyed at her friend for long. "Though some advice, Den…" The elf was about to touch Denny's shoulder again, but on second thought, folded her arms instead. "You say people are going to talk about me? They're already too busy saying you spend way too much time with…that." 'That' meaning Warden Greagoir and his very unwelcome Templar relative.
"His name is Greagoir," Denny reminded gently. "And you forget he's a Warden now. One of us. Besides," she added with an impish grin. "Scrape away the dirt and half-dead Templar and he's damned cute don't you think?"
"No," Diele replied unequivocally. "I don't think. Just…ugh."
"Oh well," Denny's grin widened. "More for me."
"Ugh." That was the end of that. Diele walked away without a second word. Shrugging, Denny dusted off her hands, collected her waterskin and little parcel of nug jerky and traveller's tack and headed herself towards the 'ugh'. She, like the others might not approve of the Templar trailing along behind them, but she figured someone ought to keep an eye on Greagoir.
Even if it was only a very appreciative one from behind.
-oo-
It was most unsatisfactory, but what did she expect? Complete and utter trust? Straight away? Warden Anike went over the all too brief…brief she had received about Senior Enchanter Amell. A Circle Mage trained in Ferelden and reportedly the Hero of Ferelden's best friend, Alyce Amell, in Anike's opinion, appeared to have unusual freedom to roam outside the Circle. It might have been because the woman was married to a former Templar; a circumstance that was surely even more unusual. Some kind of 'arrangement' must have been made between the Chantry and Circle.
On the other hand, wouldn't a former Templar have been considered less trustworthy by the Chantry? They were like that.
Unless of course, Anike's memory reminded her, that ex-Templar was Captain of the Guard employed by a prince of Ferelden.
If Anike wasn't given to flights of absurd fancy, she'd start believing she'd been written as one of Varric Tethras' heroines. The type that always ended up being the last to know about who the bad guy really was and only ever found out when said bad guy had a knife to their throat and was actually telling them so.
Meeting the Senior Enchanter in the Deep Roads of all places had been a stroke of good fortune she'd been hoping to exploit. It was a pity Amell was such a…such an… "Uncooperative little b…"
"Beans, Warden?"
Anike glared at the bowl of what looked like muddy bubbles in mud gravy. Her gaze travelled up the arm to a shoulder, neck and then to the bland expression of the woman she'd just been about to curse.
"They're good for you," Amell added solicitously. "Plenty of fibre. Can't afford to be irregular down in the Deep Roads now, can we?"
Silently, Anike took the proffered bowl and spoon. She was thoroughly annoyed at the mage and she had no intention of hiding it. She'd offered a truce; a partnership that would have benefited the both of them. She had information about Warden Commander Neria. Not a lot, mind, and truth be told she had been hoping the Senior Enchanter could fill in some of the gaps. What she knew made Alyce Amell's presence in the Deep Roads fated. There was no way she could ever believe the Senior Enchanter was down here because she was collecting the mage equivalent of nuts in May or…
"So…why are you down here again?" Anike asked.
"Did you know," Amell struck the air dramatically with her finger, "that the very rare subterranean winkle nut can only be found at this time of the year in this part of the Deep Roads? It's a very important ingredient in a scroflepus remedy I know."
The spoon half way to her mouth, Anike narrowed her eyes. "Scroflepus?" she asked in a flat voice.
"Horrible condition," Amell told her cheerfully – too cheerfully. "Affects the bottom of one's feet and spreads upwards if not checked. Your soles erupt in large numbers of pus-filled buboes that burst whenever you wal-"
"I am eating, if you haven't noticed," Anike pointed out.
The smile that quirked the Senior Enchanter's mouth caused Anike to put down her bowl very, very carefully as it occurred to her the mage could have put anything into these…beans. If they were beans. Where would anyone find beans in the Deep Roads anyway? She paused, rummaging through her current set of thoughts, discarded most of them and elected to merely stare down the mage instead. After some time, her eyes began to water.
"First symptom is a slight stinging of the eyes…" Amell began when Anike cut her short.
"I know you're enjoying making fun of me," Anike accused, her words met with a wide-eyed, innocent look that did not fool her in the least.
"I?" Alyce Amell said, pointing to herself all the same. "I can tell you now; I've never before been accused of having fun."
"Making fun," Anike corrected her, eyebrows lowering even further. "Making…why am I even bothering?" she asked no one in particular.
The mage made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a crow of muffled, victorious laughter. "So…" Amell picked up the bowl and pushed it back into the Warden's hands. "That Seeker…what did really happen to him?"
"Don't know, don't care," Anike informed her, accepting the bowl but refusing to eat. "Didn't seem like the sort that belonged in the Deep Roads."
"Ah, I see," Alyce nodded. "He wasn't a darkspawn, dwarf or a Warden."
"Nor are you," Anike retorted.
"I have dwarves," Alyce replied with an offended sniff that also did not fool the Warden. "And by extension, I am one too."
"Thedas' tallest dwarf?" Anike raised her eyebrows now, sceptically. She gave herself a shake. She was doing it again; letting herself fall into these circular conversations with the sort of person who had absolutely no intention of leaving the discussion, giving anything away and wilfully stood in front of the 'exit here' sign. She paused again, shoulders stiffening at a familiar sensation…Across their compact little campsite Anike caught the eye of one of the other Wardens; one who had been in the Order a few years longer than she and was even more experienced in these sorts of things.
"Fellows dug the privy hole over there, if you're wondering."
"What?" Anike glared at the mage then realised she'd half risen, bowl still in hand. In this position, she realised she did look like she was…ugh never mind. She continued to rise and, ignoring the Senior Enchanter, continued on towards the other Warden.
Watching her go, Alyce scratched the side of her nose, swivelling in order to get a better view of the two Wardens; now walking off together to a little distance away. Clearly, Alyce thought, they had very important Wardeny discussion to do. A soft rattle beside her and the familiar, faint scent of armour oil tickled her nose.
"Sneaky, these Wardens are," Commander Hirral grunted, taking up the place Warden Anike had so recently vacated.
"Fussy eaters too," Alyce commented dryly.
"I'm not going to ask how long you've been carrying those beans around, but seriously Enchanter…beans?" Hirral shook his head at the foolhardiness of surface-dwellers, especially human ones. "As if it weren't bad enough making so much noise down here for the darkspawn to find us, we have to make it easier for them to smell us too?"
Alyce shot a grin sideways at the dwarven commander. "Pulses are good for the soul, commander."
"Well I suppose we could do with a stiff breeze down here," he grinned back. "Though in these close quarters, it may feel like one of those big winds you surfacers have topside that break houses and pick up brontos…"
"Tornadoes?" Alyce suggested. Leaning backwards, Alyce crossed one foot over the other. "Speaking of wind," she continued smoothly. "What's in it at the moment, commander? News?" Her attention left the Wardens for a moment to venture over the group of Legion of the Dead soldiers sitting apart from Anike's Wardens. "I see young Corporal Sorli is back with us…" Lowering her voice, she added; "Do you think they noticed? The Wardens?"
Hirral nodded. "They would have been particularly unobservant if they didn't, Enchanter."
"And…?" Alyce prompted.
"It's as I thought," Hirral said gravely. "Someone's been tampering with the markers. Sorli's fixed them but whether or not we've found all of them is anyone's guess." The dwarf commander's eyes flashed angrily. "Now, a Warden's too knowing about the Deep Roads to mess about with something as important as a path marker," he told her. "Random Chantry folk, I'm not too sure about…"
Alyce nodded. They would have no proof the Seeker had tampered with the important road markers, but it was difficult not to point the finger in that general direction.
"And…" Hirral added as the two Wardens broke conversation and went their separate ways, though Alyce noted Anike chose not to return. "Seems we might have Grey Wardens down here. Besides these ones that is."
"How can you tell?" Alyce asked, amazed at the Legion Commander's abilities of deduction and tracking.
Hirral grinned his gappy grin. "Because those Wardens," his jaw jutted in the direction of Anike's men. "Have been getting antsy recently and it ain't about darkspawn," he explained simply. "We'd see those. 'Sides, I hear the Wardens aren't all in agreement with each other?" He didn't wait for her response, rolling his eyes as he continued. "Huh. As if we didn't already have problems with 'spawn, spiders and 'stalkers down here, we got a war between Wardens too?" He nudged Alyce with his elbow. "Best get ready to break with this lot then, eh?'
"Break?" Alyce enquired, though she knew exactly what Hirral meant, she needed to hear it, for clarification.
Hirral nodded again "Uh huh, drop 'em down the nearest brood mother nest hole," he confirmed. "I'm not about to get caught in the middle of a dummy spit between Grey Wardens, I'm telling you now."
Alyce grimaced. She had to agree with that one. Whole-heartedly.
-oo-