The Telling Tale

by Tsu Doh Nimh

Seeker Cassandra has finally tracked down the Warden, three years after her old recruit Anders started the Mage-Templar War. How does a Seeker convince a mage to side with the Chantry?

3. A lovely day for a trip

disclaimer type=standard

Anything you recognise is Bioware's. I daresay anything else belongs to them too.

/disclaimer

o_ooo000ooo_o

"That's not the first time you've mentioned Blood Mages at Soldier's Peak. "

Kathryn smiled. "I was wondering if I was going to have to bash you over the head to get your attention. Normally just saying 'maleficar' gets you Chantry goons into a right state. I have literally seen a templar commit suicide because she couldn't have an apostate hanged."

Cassandra glared at the elf. "I am not a templar. I am not charged with the duty of hunting down maleficars and apostates. I am more interested in your meeting the Teyrn of Highever."

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why is that?"

"It was the Teyrn's bloc of votes at the Landsmeet that gained you the arling."

Kathryn laughed aloud. "And you think I had some sort of hold over him, I take it?"

"Somewhere on that trip between Denerim and Highever, Fergus Cousland decided to throw his support behind you. On that same trip, the Chantry lost a powerful patron."

"Hey, don't try and put the blame for that on me! The Highever Chantry destroyed that relationship all by themselves."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "Oh? The prodigal Teyrn of Highever returned home and simply decided to remove every Sister and Priest from every position of authority within his teyrnir for no reason?"

"No reason? You- you really have no idea, do you?" Kathryn burst into laughter. "That's priceless."

Drawing a deep, calming breath, the Seeker clenched her fists and relaxed. "Tell me what I am missing," she said flatly.

"You are missing quite a bit, it would appear. Chantry Seekers delight in demanding answers from everyone; that is, everyone except Chantry Sisters and Mothers. Did you even ask the Revered Mother of Highever why Fergus was so furious with her?"

Cassandra clenched her jaw. "She reported that the Teyrn's behaviour changed on his return to Highever. That he had questions about blood magic, and took her answers poorly. She was quite emphatic in her declarations that you had either seduced or enthralled him."

Kathryn shook her head, apparently deeply amused at the accusations. "Right. It couldn't have been the way the silver candlesticks from Fergus' wedding party were prominently on display around the Chantry. There's no way it could have been that Oren's naming chalice, a gift from Maric himself, was being used in all namings at the Cathedral. Or that the tapestry decorating the Revered Mother's study used to hang in the chapel in Highever Castle."

"Your sarcasm is not helpful."

Kathryn snickered. "I've been told that before. Almost always after I employ it to show how wrong - or more commonly, how stupid - someone is. Funny that. Anyway, after slaughtering his liege lord, Howe lost no time in donating a large amount of coin and a substantial fraction of the Cousland family's valuables to the Chantry. The Revered Mother took the blood money with glee and declared Howe the Maker-blessed and rightful lord of Highever." The mage's smile grew feral. "But that's the Chantry's official stance on dealing with invaders and usurpers, isn't it? Foreigners or no. Take the money and say it's the Maker's will."

Cassandra closed her eyes and mentally cursed. The Warden's accusations rang true, the Seekers did not treat ecclesiastical interrogations with the same rigour, often taking the word of a Sister or Mother against those outside of the Chantry's walls. She herself had been guilty of such an oversight when charged with investigating the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry - initially assuming incompetent innocence on the part of the templar order and guilt on behalf of the Champion of Kirkwall. The dwarf Varric had told her of Meredith's complicity in those disastrous events however, and his version of events fit the available evidence far more accurately. And it was true that in the past, individuals within the Chantry had been susceptible to bribery in return for political support. But it was not an official policy by any means. She spat out her retort. "It is not! The Chantry's duty is to protect its flock, above all else. Had the Revered Mother and the rest denied Howe's claim and been banished from Highever, there would have been no one to guide those left behind."

"Bullshit!" the Warden spat. "Are you that naive, or just monumentally stupid? Do you seriously believe that Howe had such a tight hold over Highever that he didn't need the priests? The Teyrn and Teyrna were as revered in their own city as the King and Queen are in Denerim. After murdering Bryce and Eleanor, Howe didn't have nearly enough men to occupy the city; there was rioting in the streets. He would have had to butcher almost every third citizen to control it, so he bought legitimacy by crossing the Revered Mother's palm with blood-stained silver. The Chantry in Highever were more concerned with getting their tithes than protecting the flock."

"The Chantry needs tithes to perform her work," Cassandra said, despite how weak the objection sounded, even to her own ears.

Kathryn shrugged. "That was bad enough, but the resistance movement set up by some of the old city and palace guards was betrayed to Howe's men by the templars. Loyal Highever citizens, people who had been born, named and married in the Chantry, were sold out for a handful of coppers each. That was what enraged Fergus."

The Seeker rubbed her forehead. This was not going well. "Even if all that were true, it does not explain why the Teyrn suddenly supported you," she said, hoping to divert the flow of the discussion. She needed some time to digest the unwelcome revelations.

"Well, no it doesn't. As a matter of fact, Fergus didn't really warm up to me for a while. He was unfailingly polite of course, but it was obvious that he had no real desire to have me as a vassal." Kathryn's eyes lost focus as she gazed upon the past. "He got even more nervous about the prospect as we travelled through Amaranthine arling. Apparently, the ability to call on the elements made him a touch nervous."

o_ooo000ooo_o

The first leg of my journey was quite sedate, limited as we were by the top speed of an ox.

Thirty men-at-arms marched in two columns, protecting the Teyrn and his brother. And, I suppose, me as well. I sat in the driver's position on the wagon with the archdemon blood and magical supplies, holding the leather straps that supposedly controlled the ox. It was the first time I'd travelled any distance by a manner other than foot. Thunder would join me on the wooden seat on occasion, though he deigned to spend most of the journey running about the countryside, rolling in mud, chasing rabbits or playing a game of tag with Aedan's mabari, Shadow. With his Grey Warden-powered size and stamina, Thunder had an obvious advantage at that game.

Aedan and his brother rode a pair of white horses, though for some reason they described them as grey. Most of the time they kept each other's company, or chatted to the Captain of their escort. The noble brothers would occasionally ride near me to enquire about my comfort. On occasion, the Teryn would fall back, leaving Aedan to ride near me. With no darkspawn nearby, and any incidental banditry dissuaded by our numbers, I was content to simply soak up the early-spring sunshine.

"You know, I was rather put out with you."

I blinked in surprise at the sudden break of companionable silence. Aedan had just blurted that statement out to the world with none of the usual lead in conversation. "Er, why?"

He grimaced at me. "You killed Howe."

"Ah. I take it you wanted that honour?"

"Oh yes. After his men sacked Castle Highever, I spent most of the following year planning revenge."

He gestured at our hounds, who had decided to have a hiatus from their play. Thunder jumped onto the wagon and sat next to me, while his playmate decided to walk along at his master's side to regain some wind. "Shadow, Mother and I made our way to Denerim. When we arrived, we found that Howe had taken over our family's estate, leaving us essentially homeless. We managed to hole up with some thieves. I spent nearly every spare moment planning my revenge." He gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "On the day you killed him, I had encouraged some workers to mass at his front gate and demand their wages. I used the distraction to do some scouting around his estate when I spotted a maid lead a group of four people dressed as guards to the rear door."

Ah. "These four you saw, they wouldn't happen to have been two elves and two humans?"

He laughed, honest and clear. "What a good guess. On reflection, one of the elves looked remarkably like you."

"Did you happen to see what befell this attractive, yet enigmatic quartet?" I asked lightly, enjoying the banter.

He shrugged. "Only one or two people came and went from the estate after that. About an hour after the four snuck in, Ser Cauthrien and two dozen or so soldiers arrived and cleared the complaining workers at the front gate. Then they entered the estate. Ten minutes later, four people snuck out the back door and Ser Cauthrien lead a captured human man and elf maiden away in the direction of Fort Drakon."

I nodded. "Yeah, Alistair and I had to surrender to ensure Anora wasn't 'accidentally' killed in the following unpleasantness." Thunder looked up at me and whined. I patted his head reassuringly. "I know you hated it, boy. But it all worked out in the end.

Aedan's face darkened. "I know a lot of people who were taken to Fort Drakon. Few of them ever saw the outside world again."

"It happens. More than it should. Anyway, once we were sure Anora was safely away, we didn't feel the need to stay. So we left."

"Oh?" he blurted, sounding surprised. "Just like that? You didn't wait for rescue?"

I grinned at him. "We weren't even in the cells long enough to get cold toes."

"I was told that your allies broke you out."

I shook my head. "Only in a technical sense. Alistair and I were stripped and dumped in a cell." I said, leaving out quite a bit of detail. I swallowed, pressing on through the sudden memory of entrails-knotting terror. "Most of the guards went off to do whatever it is they do all day when not tormenting prisoners. I called a guard on duty over and started flirting with him. Alistair took exception to that, and when the guard was within arm's reach he unloaded a punch that would have rattled a dragon's teeth. We grabbed the key and let ourselves out."

"That quickly?" He sounded unconvinced.

"Sure. I pinched the guard's mace while he wasn't in any shape to object." I chuckled at the memory. "I gave it to Alistair to use, but he looked at me and asked, 'what about you?' I just stared at him for a moment until he remembered that I can kill people with my mind. He took the mace and clubbed a couple of guards on the way out."

"You broke out of prison naked?"

"No! Only our cell. We grabbed our gear on the way out. They hadn't had time to even sort it, let alone sell it. And we didn't break out, we sodding well blasted our way out. I suppose if we had Zevran or Leliana with us we may have been able to bluff or sneak our way out, but Alistair is templar-trained and I'm a mage with a talent for the Blow-Shit-Into-Tiny-Little-Bits school of magic. We slaughtered our way from our cell to the front door to find Morrigan, Leliana and Oghren there, beating up the doormen, trying to get inside to rescue us. When they saw us they were surprised but happy." I paused, thinking about the incident. "Well, Oghren grumbled a bit because we'd deprived him of a lot of head-bashing fun, but he always complains when I end a fight quickly."

Aedan scratched his head. "Er, wow. I heard that nearly all the guards were killed in your escape, but not that you did it without help. That's... impressive." He gave me an odd expression. "Unbelievable, even."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. You know, everyone I ever met seemed to underestimate Grey Wardens. Loghain, Howe, Cauthrien, Flemeth, Uldred..." I frowned. "But not Cailan; he overestimated us badly."

"How did he die?"

"Cailan?"

He shook his head. "No. Howe."

Ah, I suppose I should have expected the question. "Not well, if that's what you mean. He died in his own dungeon, surrounded by the rotting corpses of his victims." I looked at Aedan's hungry expression, and nodded my assent. "Very well. You know that there were four of us. Zevran, a former Antivan Crow, Leliana, a Chantry sister trained by an Orlesian Bard, Alistair and myself."

"An eclectic mix."

I laughed out loud. "You have no idea. Anyway, I'd better start with some background. Anora's maid had come to Eamon's estate with an absolute tear-jerker of a sob story, about the Queen being held captive by Howe, and that the Arl was planning to kill her and pin the blame on Eamon and the Wardens."

Aedan flushed. "That snake!"

I snorted. "Don't believe a word of it. Erlina," I caught a look of ignorance on Aedan's face, "um, that's Anora's maid, had made this impassioned plea. Eamon of course swallowed it whole; he wanted to believe it was true. Me? I just asked her where she'd received her bard training."

"No!"

I grinned. "Oh yes. You could almost see her mentally change direction. She went from a heartfelt plea for assistance from gullible marks to bursting into tears and babbling surety that her Mistress would not live the day out. I wanted to applaud."

"It was an act?"

"Of course it was! But Eamon bought it - I think he's a sucker for pretty girls with Orlesian accents. He insisted that I go and rescue the Queen. I was sure it was a trap, so I insisted on taking Alistair along with me."

"Er, why? That made no sense."

I shrugged. "Incentive. That is, to give Eamon the incentive to act when he finally realised it was a trap." I looked at his expression. "You have to understand Eamon's mindset. He was focused, to the exclusion of all else, on getting Alistair on the throne. He thought it was Ferelden's best chance at uniting to face the Blight. In terms of crowning Alistair, I was an expendable asset. Alistair was not."

"Well, obviously."

I winked at him. "Indeed. Well, I didn't want to spring such an obvious trap, but Eamon was most insistent. So by taking Alistair with me over his objections, and believe me, object he most certainly did, it ensured he wouldn't hold back resources if we needed rescuing. Resources he would have held back, had it just been me."

"So it was a trap?"

I nodded. "Oh yes, just not one set by Howe. Anora had decided that Howe's influence over her father had become intolerable, and that the Grey Wardens were a divisive force in Ferelden at a time that desperately needed unity. So she surrendered herself to Howe and sent her maid to the Wardens to let them know her life was in danger and that we were going to be blamed for the deed."

Aedan's eyes were wide. "You mean... it was the Queen's trap?"

"Yup. She figured that by setting up a confrontation between the Wardens and Howe, she'd rid her country of at least one, perhaps even two negative influences. Or at the very least, severely weaken both."

He digested this for a moment or two. "I didn't realise that she was so cold; so clinical."

"That's quite a diplomatic description of Anora. Anyway, once Erlina led us to the estate, we slipped in and made our way around to where the Queen was being held without spilling blood or cracking skulls. We managed that quite easily. But, surprise, surprise, Howe had somehow decided in the hour or so Erlina was gone to increase the security on the Queen. He had a mage cast a barrier spell over her door. So instead of the nice, easy rescue operation we had planned, we had to confront Howe and his mage in order to release her." I laughed. "Erlina almost came out of character in frustration when I flat out asked what the script called for me to do next."

Aedan joined me laughing at that.

"She was livid that I was just following her directions out of morbid curiosity and not because I believed it, but like a true professional, she managed to keep the performance going. We made our way to Howe's bedchamber. Believe it or not, he had an entrance to the dungeons right there in his room. He was one seriously messed up fellow."

"I'd believe it," Aedan muttered.

"We went down and found another Grey Warden held captive. It only took us distracting the guard for him to escape on his own. Riordan gave us a few crumbs of information and left us to the task at hand."

"He didn't help you?"

I shrugged. "He had been Howe's captive for a few weeks. I didn't hold it against him for escaping when he could. We killed a lot of Howe's men, and freed a lot of prisoners. Howe had even kept the relatives of nobles down there as bargaining chips. I found Bann Sighard's son Oswyn, the old Arl of Denerim's son Vaughan and Bann Alfstanna's brother."

Aedan frowned. "Vaughan is dead."

I took a slow breath to keep my heart from beating too hard. "Yes, he was dead when we found him," I lied. Continuing quickly, I said, "But they weren't the only ones down there. There was an elf that had been there for a year simply because he protested against his bride being kidnapped by some nobles for sport on their wedding day."

"Howe deserved to die a slow death," Aedan growled.

"You won't find me disagreeing there. We finally ran into Howe and his pet mages. He was all puffed up, claiming that we had finally fallen into his hands after ruining all his plans. As though allowing us to kill every other guard in the place was part of his genius."

Aedan frowned. "That doesn't sound like the Rendon Howe I knew," he said slowly.

"Yeah, I believe that. I think it was at that point that I realised that he was quite mad. I don't mean obsessed, or blindly driven, but actually deranged. Anyway, after some of the traditional, pre-slaughter banter, I took on his two pet mages while Alistair engaged Howe. Leliana and Zevran stood watch to make sure we weren't interrupted. They understood that it was a fight for just the Wardens."

"Howe was an accomplished duellist of over thirty years. He can't have been so easy to defeat."

I shrugged. "Alistair is quite a bit more than simply accomplished. He didn't have much difficulty. Especially not after I started using some of my more painful curses on Howe. It only took me a couple of spells to turn his pathetic mages into pinkish, greasy smears on the walls." I shook my head with a soft snort. "Do you want to know what his last words were?"

Aedan considered this and nodded.

"Maker spit on you. I deserved more."

He shook his head. "I want to curse you for taking my revenge away from me, but I'm just not sure I could have managed it. Thank you."

I turned to face him. "Can I ask how you escaped him? At Highever, I mean."

Aedan's face went as hard as granite. "Maybe another time. I... I don't like to talk about it."

I recognised reticence that grew from guilt. I nodded. "As you wish."

o_ooo000ooo_o

At the first night of camp, I settled into my tent after a meal of hot but bland trail rations. It felt odd but welcome to travel in so large a party that I wasn't needed to stand a watch. I was almost asleep when my ears picked out the Cousland brothers conversing in hushed whispers.

"So, what do you think of her?" Fergus asked.

"The Warden-Commander? I think she's an accomplished liar with woeful manners."

I clenched my hands into fists under my blanket. Aedan thought I was a liar? I had only directly lied about finding Vaughan dead. Sure I'd left things out, but deliberate omissions were hardly lies. I pushed the blanket aside and silently willed my body to assume the form of a mabari. Once I was 'wearing my fur coat', as Alistair once described it, the voices were much clearer, even if the noises from the rest of the camp were intruding.

"Oh? You were speaking to her for a long time today. What did she claim?"

Aedan gave a snort of distaste. "She claimed that she and His Majesty managed to break out of Fork Drakon all by themselves, that they weren't rescued." There was a pause. "What? What is it?"

My elvish ears would not have made out Fergus' whispered reply. "She wasn't lying."

"What?" Aedan's voice was much louder. "I spoke with Eamon. He said that when Anora came back alone, the Warden's companions went off to rescue them."

Wonderful, I thought. Wake the whole camp with your private conversation, why don't you?

"Keep your voice down," Fergus hissed. "And they did. That's the official story. His Majesty didn't want it getting out that he personally killed guards employed by the city. Better for people to believe that he was rescued."

"It's true then? They weren't rescued?"

"You met Oghren, that insane dwarf berserker, right?" There was a pause, presumably filled by Aedan nodding at his brother. "Right, well, his patrol arrived back in Denerim a few nights ago when Their Majesties, Eamon, Teagan and I were sitting up discussing some politics. We got drunk and started trading stories after the Queen retired. The King told me about how he and the Warden-Commander surrendered to allow the Queen to escape from Howe's estate. They were arrested and taken to Fort Drakon, where the Warden-Commander was tortured and raped. She was dumped naked in the cell with the King, and once she regained consciousness, they broke out."

I whined in my canine form. Alistair had made some pretty big assumptions about exactly what had happened before I was deposited back in the cell with him, inflated by his imagination, and fuelled by his inability to prevent it. Not to mention my reluctance to speak of it. The guards had certainly tried to rape me after binding my hands, but instead chose to beat me into a pulp after I let uncontrolled bursts of magic electrocute the first two of their number to take liberties with my person.

Aedan coughed. "She left that part out."

"I'm not surprised. She's never told anyone exactly what happened, but His Majesty described her as being quite... thorough when confronting a couple of specific guards. Oghren then told the story from his perspective. He led the rest of the Warden-Commander's companions to break them out. He, the wilder witch and the bard-trained sister fought their way in through the front door while the others used the distraction to try and find another way in. They were subduing the guards in the antechamber when the inner doors opened. They expected to be rushed by more guards, but instead, out stomped His Majesty and the Warden, drenched in blood and looking angry enough to chew steel and spit nails. Behind them the whole of Fort Drakon was filled with corpses."

"I- I don't-"

I was glad of my new form; it allowed me to laugh without a sound. Oghren's story sounded far more dramatic the way Fergus told it than what actually happened.

"Believe it brother. As warriors, Grey Wardens are unsurpassed in Thedas. Just the two of them managed to break out of the most secure prison on this side of the country. They travelled with a Qunari Sten during the Blight, and apparently he said that he had no wish to face her on the battlefield; this from a seven-foot tall seasoned warrior."

"She's a mage! I wouldn't want to face her without an army either."

"A mage who is just over a year out of her apprenticeship. A year, pup. I spoke with the First Enchanter a few days after he helped her kill the archdemon. He said that mages less than five years out of their apprenticeship are not considered for the rank of Enchanter, and it takes a further fifteen years to be considered for the rank of Senior Enchanter." There was a pause. "Irving told me the Warden-Commander outstrips almost every Senior Enchanter in the Ferelden Circle both in terms of raw power and spell knowledge. In a few more years, she'll be all but unstoppable. Even the Tevinters have taken note; Eamon says that their ambassador is a lot more polite whenever she is in the Palace. More nervous too."

I didn't know that. Interesting. I'd have to go and visit the Tevinter ambassador when I got back to Denerim. It might be fun to terrify a diplomat.

There was a moment of silence between the pair. "Are you going to support her appointment as Arlessa? Politically, it's bad enough that she's an elf, let alone a mage, but for someone with disgraceful manners and command over that much power to also be made Arlessa..."

"I don't know. I can't see how it would be to my benefit to do so. I'd face a revolt from my own Banns, and I can't imagine how her own vassals would take to being made to bow to an elf and a mage. But Their Majesties have a plan that they are keeping secret; I presume they intend to spring them on the Landsmeet and have a vote without a drawn-out debate. But you're right, I still can't imagine how they are going to get around the problems with her race, manner and profession. Mind you, if she were loyal..."

Aedan chuckled, a deep, genuine sound. "She'd be the only ally you'd ever need; you could probably disband most of your armed forces." There was another, longer pause before Aedan continued. "You realise that if she is made Arlessa, it could well tear the country apart. The nobles would scream at an elf taking a place they rightfully see as belonging to one of their own. And the Chantry will fight it; the idea of a mage as nobility would be just the thing to get rumours of an Exalted March going."

"Most of the Banns are too focused on short term gain and prestige; if His Majesty gives them something they value in return, I could well imagine them agreeing to it. And from what father's agents have reported to me, if the Chantry forced the issue, they might find themselves without as much support as they expect; at least in the short term."

"You're not serious!"

"Deadly. When the Grand Cleric barred the doors to the cathedral she destroyed more than the families of those who died seeking refuge. She shook the people's faith in the Chantry."

Wasn't that the truth, I thought. My tongue lolled at the memory of shocked templars getting pelted with midden dirt by the general population in the days following the archdemon's defeat.

"Do you seriously think that will make a difference? In a few months people will start to go back to fearing mages again."

"That is exactly why the Crown is pressing ahead with their reforms now. Arl Eamon's only child is a mage, and His Majesty spent over a year side by side with three, successfully battling the Blight. And there are rumours that the pair were closer than comrades. Pup, I know Aldous' lessons would often send you to sleep, but you need to start living and breathing politics, both local and international. As the second son of a Teyrn, the best prospect you could hope for would to be married off to some Bann or Arl's only daughter and made his heir, but the Blight has changed things for everyone."

Aedan grumbled something even my canine ears could not catch over the sounds of the camp.

"Pup, listen, this is important. There is no Arl of Denerim. Officially, there is no Arl of Amaranthine. With Loghain's death, the Queen is currently the Teyrna of Gwaren, and she will not be permitted to keep both Gwaren and her Crown. That leaves a mighty big chunk of Ferelden without a lord. I and many other nobles have lost heirs to Howe's treachery or to the darkspawn. You and I are the most eligible bachelors in the country. His Majesty will need us to marry soon for the political stability it will provide."

"So I'm supposed to just whore myself out for the King's pleasure?"

"Don't be obscene. I'm still mourning Orianna and Oren, so I may well hate the idea even more than you. But we who carry the Cousland name do our duty first and foremost."

"So father always said."

"It's not as though you'll be unrewarded. The King needs us far more than we need him. If you let him select your wife, he'll probably name you Teyrn of Gwaren. Having both Teyrns of Ferelden as strong allies would do more for stability than anything short of winding back the Blight."

Aedan laughed softly. "Can you imagine father's face if you'd told him two years ago that his sons would end up being both the Teyrns in Ferelden?"

Fergus laughed too. "All too easily." He sighed. "The world has gone crazy, hasn't it? The son of a serving wench is on the throne, married to the daughter of a common-born noble, I may get a powerful elven mage as a vassal, and you may well end up gifted the second largest holding in the country."

"Imagine how crazy things would have been had father allowed Duncan to conscript me."

WHAT! I let out an involuntary yelp of surprise.

Over the noise of my panting breath I heard Fergus laugh. "Who knows? You might have been made Warden-Commander instead, and all this politicking would not be necessary. You could have been named Amaranthine's Arl without any problems."

"Or everyone in Ferelden could all be dead with darkspawn overrunning the country. I thought I was good in a fight; I've won every tourney I've entered since I was of age. Don't forget, you haven't been able to get the better of me since I was twelve."

"I beat you that one time when you were fourteen."

"I had a broken wrist! I could only use one blade!"

"It still counts."

Aedan grunted under his breath. "Anyway, I sparred with our new King a few times, and I didn't even come close to touching him. Maker's breath, I've never seen someone in armour move so perfectly. He could probably have carved his name into my clothes without scratching my skin. And despite her being a mage, the Warden-Commander seems quite comfortable wearing armour and carrying a sword. I don't think I could have done half so well as she."

"Don't sell yourself short, pup. Who knows where the Grey Wardens get their power? The King was trained as a templar before he was recruited, and I had a couple of father's agents look into his past. Those who knew him at the Chantry said he had impressive discipline, but only average martial skill, though his swordsmaster did say he had great potential."

That wasn't the first reference to their father's agents. I wondered just how extensive the Cousland's network was. It can't have been too good, or at least prone to infiltration, given Howe managed to almost wipe the family out.

There was silence for a long while. Eventually, Aedan said, "If Duncan had recruited me, Mother wouldn't have died in a damned gutter."

Fergus sighed. "Pup, she'd have died six months earlier when Howe's men sacked the castle."

"At least she would have died a noble."

"You don't think knowing that both her sons survived Howe's treachery was worth six months of deprivation?"

Aedan's voice grew in both volume and anger. "Don't. Just... don't. I'm turning in."

"Pup, wait."

"No! You didn't see her die, Fergus. She just... wasted away. She starved to death because I couldn't scrounge up enough food to go around."

A short pause. "I'm so sorry, pup. I wish I could have been there to help."

"Well, the Chasind aren't exactly renowned for their healing skills. I will be forever grateful that they found you in time to save your life. But don't try and tell me that anything was worth the last six months of Mother's life. Good night, brother."

"Good night, Aedan."

I reversed the shapeshifting spell, rolled myself back into my blankets and considered what I'd heard. It seemed that there was more to these nobles than I assumed.

o_ooo000ooo_o

Sometime during the night, my canine friend entered my tent and woke me in his emergency manner, by touching his cold, wet nose to the skin behind my ear. Guaranteed to rouse me from the deepest sleep, without alerting anyone outside my tent to the fact that I was awake. With a jerk, I was alert, blinking the remains of sleep from my eyes. A low growl emanated from Thunder's throat. Immediately, I felt a familiar, unwelcome sensation. I tossed the covers off and crawled out of my tent. "Alert the camp!" I shouted, rising to my feet. "Alert the camp!" The brisk air touched the exposed skin on my arms and legs, giving me gooseflesh.

Soft curses and crashes indicated a general transition to wakefulness.

"Warden-Commander? What is it?" one of the sentries queried.

"Darkspawn approaching," I called out tersely, getting my bearings. "From that way; er, the south. Arm yourselves."

That little announcement sped up movement around the camp. A large number of men grabbed weapons and stood waiting for orders in just their smallclothes. One poor chap looked as though he'd been interrupted in the middle of a midnight shit; he hopped past stark naked with a sword in one hand, trying to tug a set of twisted smallclothes past his knees with the other. Captain Francois and his sergeant barked orders, getting everyone as ready as possible when suddenly woken in the middle of the night.

Fergus and Aedan rushed over to me, the Teyrn in a linen shirt and holding his sword, his brother carrying a shortbow and a handful of arrows, wearing only a pair of loose short pants. The base part of my mind admired his form in the dim light. "Are you sure?" they asked in unison.

I nodded, trying to concentrate on the darkspawn rather than on Aedan's chest. "A small band, thirty; maybe thirty-five."

Fergus blinked. "Thirty!"

"Yes. I think there's an ogre in the group, you'd best leave neutralising that one to me and Thunder." I raised my voice, addressing the camp. "Listen up! Soldiers! Form up behind the palisades on the south side of camp, those in armour and those with shields in front, those without at the second rank. Grab a bow if you can. Darkspawn do not back down or retreat, and will attack in one wave. I'll thin their numbers. Kill any that get close quickly." No one argued; everyone could hear the approaching band, grunting and squealing. "Workmen! Take cover behind the wagons and get a hold of the animals. Keep them as calm as you can."

Fergus joined the ranks of soldiers over the strained objections of Captain Francois. Aedan positioned himself next to me, knelt on one knee and pushed his arrows point first into the earth. "Nothing to hang my quiver on, and picking them up flat off the ground is too time-consuming," he explained a bit sheepishly. Shadow, his mabari, crouched at his side, hackles raised, silent and ready to spring.

I smiled, and took a deep breath. Thunder would already be out there, ready for my commands. Summoning my magic, I cast a spell that would amplify the power of my subsequent magic use at the cost of drawing more heavily on my mana reserves. Aedan's eyes widened at the blue mist that wafted from my body.

"Hold steady," I shouted, conjuring a couple of spell wisps to add more light to the camp; I was travelling with humans, after all. In the dim light beyond the range of my magic, shapes could be seen charging towards us. I raised my arms and chanted, drawing on the elemental power opposite to fire. The polar opposite, as it were.

I placed a localised blizzard as far past the fortification line of stakes as I could. Howls of rage echoed across the field as the darkspawn tried charging straight through the magical cold, with very limited success.

I raised my arms again and began calling on elemental lightning. In practice, casting magic in the tower was much different from casting it outdoors. We never cast two powerful area spells in the same place; templars always cleared residual magic in between our practice casting sessions. Spells could have unpredictable effects when combined; some spell combinations nullified the effects of both, but others magnified.

I stumbled upon a particular combination when fighting Flemeth. I had always shown caution when spellcasting, as I'd been trained. But fighting her in dragon form had been so much of a surprise that I broke my conditioning and cast spells on top of one another. The result was quite breathtaking.

As it had in the Korcari wilds, elemental magic exploded into a powerful storm, literally wiping entire lines of approaching darkspawn away. Most of the men-at-arms balked at the display, many praying aloud. Aedan himself simply whispered, "Andraste's tits!"

A group of hurlocks lumbered around the edge of the malestrom. Waving their weapons above their head, they charged the lines. One was comically ended by his own side, tripping after being shoved aside by his allies. He fell forward and was impaled on the sharpened stakes lining the camp. But the rest made it almost to the soldiers before I scattered them with a fireball.

A small volley of darkspawn arrows arced through the storm into our lines. Raised shields caught some, but a few hit a mark. A quick glance showed no one with life-threatening injuries. I turned my gaze back to the battlefield, and the small group of hurlock flambé.

A roar from the middle of the spellstorm drew my attention, and I watched a massive ogre stumble through the storm, screaming in spittle-laced rage. Ignoring the hurlocks, I called out to my hound. "Thunder! Hamstring and clear!"

My mabari appeared out of nowhere, hitting the wounded ogre from the left. He tore out a chunk of the back of the beast's thigh, sending it tumbling forward on one knee. Thunder bolted away from the ogre and towards the three hurlocks, his task complete.

I cast a spell, petrifying the crippled ogre in place. There, it was a better target now. "Archers! Target the ogre! Loose!"

More than a dozen arrows shot out at the large target, the majority finding their mark. Aedan's first and second arrows struck the creature in the neck; a fine pair of shots given the circumstances. I cast one more spell, hurling a bolt of lightning at the ogre. The sizzling energy burned a hole through the beast's chest.

It slowly toppled over to one side.

A war cry and clash of metal on metal echoed across the camp. Two smouldering hurlocks were butchered by the front lines of soldiers, the third already down to Thunder's jaws.

Comparative silence descended. My magical storm still raged, and the men struck by darkspawn arrows and blades still cried out in pain, but there was no inhuman growling. I sensed no more darkspawn out there. I wouldn't need a lyrium potion boost.

I flicked my hands, ending the power-enhancing spell. "That's it, gentlemen. Let's see to the wounded."

o_ooo000ooo_o

Two men had been slashed by swords, and those injuries were quickly set to rights. Most of the arrow wounds were superficial, lodging in arms and shoulders. A couple of men had their shields pinned to their forearms. One soldier had turned away from an arrow, and it had gone through his bicep and into the side of his chest, pinning the arm to his body. Thanks to Wynne's tuition, my healing skill was enough to keep him alive as the arrow was extracted, even through his distracting cries. Once that gory task was complete, I stabilised and bandaged him up. Once that task was done, I spent a few minutes healing the other minor wounds.

I couldn't sense any corruption within the healed wounds, but I'd check again once the sun rose. I'd need to collect and preserve some blood on the chance one of the soldiers was infected with the taint. I didn't want to put anyone through the Joining unless I absolutely had to, but being part of a bankrupt order was probably better than being dead.

"I'm beginning to think that the stories of your skill are not exaggerations."

I turned to see Fergus looking at me with his arms crossed on his chest. "What stories are those?"

"Oh, just those that say you can kill a hundred darkspawn at a time. With spells like that at your command, it's likely an underestimation," he said, jerking his head out towards the south.

I took in his defensive posture - crossed arms, feet wide apart. Where was this going? "I'd better go take care of the darkspawn corpses. I need to incinerate them. Why don't you come along and tell me what the problem is."

I turned without waiting for his response and made my way over to my tent.

"The Captain can have the bodies cleared, I need to speak with you. Privately."

I pulled on a robe over my sleeping shift and grabbed my crafting equipment case from the tent. "With all due respect, leave the darkspawn bodies to me. I won't get infected by the taint, anyone else who handles them may." I put my fingers to my mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

He swallowed, but nodded. "Very well. I'll escort you out there."

I raised an eyebrow at the phrasing, but let it slide. "Let me put some shoes on." Thunder trotted up to us and sat down.

Once that little job was taken care of, I stomped out into the moon-lit killing field with my case in one hand and my mabari at my side. Fergus followed, a little more carefully, his human eyes not as effective in the dark as mine. I pulled the hurlock off the stake and helped Thunder drag him over to the ogre. If there was going to be a pyre, it would have to be around the big bastard. I wasn't going to try and drag a half-ton corpse around.

Fergus, after a couple of false starts, finally got out what was bothering him. "Can every mage do that?"

Ah, that's what it was about. "Cast that big storm spell, you mean? No," I answered.

"Oh?" He sounded relieved. "How many can?"

"I'm not really sure - mages who could cast it may not know they can." I scratched my head. "That made no sense. Sorry. Let me try and explain. Mages who know the spells and have the raw ability still may not know how to. It's a combination of three spells that need deep, personal reserves of power to pull off. Maybe a quarter of the Enchanters in the tower can cast all three spells, and most of them would have the inner reserves to do so, but I don't think any of them actually know about that particular combination. I only stumbled across it by accident."

"Oh. I see."

I debated collecting a couple of vials of blood in front of the Teyrn. If I was going to get some, it needed to be soon. I decided to wait in the hope I'd get a little more privacy. People got funny ideas when they saw you collecting blood from corpses. They tended to jump to all sorts of conclusions. I grabbed another hurlock by the arm and dragged it over. "If there's something you'd like to say, just say it. I promise I won't be offended."

Fergus cleared his throat. "I just... one person shouldn't have that much power!"

"Oh?" I said. "Why not? You do."

He was taken aback by my response. "What? I do not!"

"You most certainly do. You could order every one of those men back there to their deaths. You could have any man disobeying your orders hanged. You have far more power over the lives of those within your teyrnir than I ever would."

"I wouldn't do that! Even if I were of that mind, there are repercussions that I would face."

I looked at him in the eye. "Right. The old Arl of Denerim's son Vaughan had a habit of taking some of his drinking buddies into the Denerim Alienage and forcibly taking some elven women for sport. He did that in front of a Chantry priest. There were no repercussions on him for those actions, and he wasn't a Teyrn, merely a Bann. If I was to turn my magic upon subjects of the Ferelden crown, I suspect the repercussions on me would be of the more terminal variety."

"You just destroyed thirty darkspawn with a handful of spells! It would take an army to visit retribution on you!"

I shook my head, though he probably couldn't see it in the darkness. "Nope. It takes only one templar-trained warrior to send a mage into a magically drained stupor," I said, hoping Alistair hadn't told him otherwise. "Why do you think the Chantry keeps such tight control of mages? They're officially the only ones who can reign a rogue mage in."

He took a deep breath. "I suppose that's true. Maker's breath. I'm sorry, your spell just left me feeling... I've never seen anything like that before. You could bring down a fortress with that spell."

I laughed. "Not quite, I know a better spell to do that. And I'd be surprised if you had seen a spell like it. I sometimes wonder what other weird and wonderful magical effects are out there, waiting to be discovered by the unwary or curious mage."

Fergus paused, not joining in my laughter. "That's not encouraging. Surely mages have done research on such things?"

"Not really. Well, not formally, anyway. In the tower, we mostly study the theory behind casting spells. Practical spellcasting is tightly controlled, and the templars on duty will smother a spell long before you had a chance to combine it with a second. That's not to say that some spell combinations are not documented. For obvious reasons, a spell that puts grease on the ground shouldn't be combined with any fire, magical or mundane."

The Teryn nodded slowly, still not mollified. "I see." He looked back towards the camp. "I need to think about this. Will you need assistance?"

"No thank you. Better I do this myself."

He nodded and wandered back. I knelt in front of the ogre and collected some vials of dark, thick blood.

o_ooo000ooo_o

A/N: My thanks to my first reviewer, SgtGinger. You have a special place in my heart.