Chapter 33: The Dark Lady
Ser Simon Grey
The morning following King Alistair and Letha's hasty departure, we sat outside our borrowed, dilapidated hut. We had refrained from running after them and scouring the darkness. Such an action would have been rash and unwise. If they had returned and we were wandering the wilderness it would have caused more undue worry and confusion. We would have had no hope of finding them while stumbling in the woods at night.
It was a restless night; neither Bruna nor I could sleep, keeping the fire stoked in hopes that the light would guide the wayward king back to us with Letha in tow. I knew full well he would not return without her. Once I might have scolded him for that…once…
Much of the time Bruna resembled a deer with its head raised, poised at every sound, sniffing the wind itself for any sign of them. She was peaceful on the surface, but I could feel the tension in her. The muscles were ready to send her flying into action if she were needed. For a woman of her years, she was both quick and shrewd. I found myself vaguely wishing she could use a sword along with her other gifts. If would have been better for us in the event of an attack.
When daybreak came they had still not returned.
"We will break camp and track them," I announced to Bruna, "There should be some kind of tracks to follow with how erratically Letha was behaving. She probably broke plenty of twigs and her trek will be obvious. In his haste, the king must have also made obvious tracks."
She nodded, "That sounds to be the wisest course of action. I shall gather our effects. Can you snuff the fire, Ser Lion?"
"Aye," I affirmed. Even with my sword arm slung up to prevent its usage, I could still carry a water skin. I had unharnessed my great sword from my back the previous night and had leaned it against the hut so that it was in easy reach, though it would be absurd for me to swing it with my injury. It was foolish to retrieve it and have Bruna help to strap it back onto me while she was gathering supplies. Even if I was wearing it on my short trip to fill the skin at the small stream, if anything happened I would not be able to wield it.
I scuttled quickly to the stream, resolving to return quickly, making the sword unnecessary. Bruna had explained to me that the Avvars are careful to choose a hold with a reliable water supply. This stream had served her people for a long time and had never dried up, being fed by some mountain spring and it now offered us clean water. The water skin was immersed in the cold mountain water, the skin of my right hand turning pale and tingling in the rush as it held the skin beneath the surface. Once the skin was full, I struggled to replace the stopper with my right hand while steadying it against my chest and spilling some of the contents onto me. The cold seeped through my tunic and caused me to gasp with the autumn chill. It would not be many weeks before the water would freeze.
When my job had been completed I started to return to the hut, but before I could enter the clearing the sound of thundering hooves stopped me and I quickly concealed myself behind a tree. The cold spot left by the water on my tunic seemed to spread, causing a chill at the back of my neck where the hair stood at attention. Peering into the clearing from where I hid, I noted a group of five riders. They wore no armor, so they were not Templars, but they also wore no colors either that bespoke their allegiances or identified them as being part of a retinue. Their tunics and breeches were dirty and did not recommend them. I suspected that they were either thieves or mercenaries prowling the valley. They reminded me of the scrawny wolves that had attacked us: they were all hunger but carried an underlying air of grim purpose. They were dangerous.
Bruna continued to bustle around the camp as if she were still alone, with the pretense of paying no heed to them. As she always did, she watched them askance from the corner of her eyes. She spoke not a word until one of them addressed her, "Well, old mother, why are you in this place of dust and rot?"
She straightened up from where she stooped and answered simply, "I am no mother of yours, old or otherwise, for if I were you would know this was once the winter hold of my clan."
"So, you are an Avvar then?" another man, leaner than the rest and riding a finer horse, questioned as the others listened with confident grins on their faces.
"I am," she nodded and then returned to her drudgery.
"Your people are not here, though," the man prodded pointedly.
"No," she allowed, not pausing in her activity, "they apparently have found other grounds for the winter rest."
The man continued to needle her, "How is it that you were unaware of this?"
She replied, picking up her kettle and examining it closely before rubbing at a spot on its surface with the edge of her tunic, "I have been away for a number of years. It had been my hope to rejoin them in my waning time."
"A good story, old one," the man answered, though a taunting edge sharpened his words, "but it does not explain why you have that sword." He gestured with an extended finger to my sword where it leaned near the doorway of the hut.
"I scavenged it during my journey. If necessary I planned to sell it. It is of too awkward a size for me to swing myself." She answered with a shrug. For the first time I was grateful for the loss of our horses when they had run off during the bear attack. In Bruna and King Alistair's focus on our wellbeing they could not go after them, particularly in the darkness. By the following morning they were long gone and to bother chasing the beasts would have eaten time we had been hoping to gain in order to overtake Svenya and Rian. If they had been here, the men would have easily seen there were more of us.
While Bruna kept the men occupied and distracted, I followed the tree line and kept myself concealed in the shadows cast by the huts, hoping to move to a point behind them and catch them off guard. If I could knock one from their horse I might be able to gain an advantage.
Even without my sword, I still had a hunting knife that I carried at my waist. In all my years of training I had spurned the use of daggers, for they were no help when menaced by an opponent with a sword. Daggers lacked the reach necessary to defend oneself. Now I had a potential weapon that I had no skill with other than to slice a wing from a game bird. Other than that I was unarmed and gravely missed my armor. It made me think of Svenya and her desire to learn how to use the great sword. She had tried to improve even though it was far more difficult for her to wield its heft. Here I stood, the light blade felt clumsy in my large hand, but I held it at the ready.
"This camp is far too big for one woman," the suspicious man continued, interrupting my thoughts, "You will not mind if my men check the woods for unwelcome company."
It was not a question addressed to Bruna, but an order to the others and they readily obeyed, sliding off the backs of their horses and quickly fanning out into the forest.
One passed near to me, reminding me of my years being trained by the Redcliffe knights to scout ahead for them.
"Pretend to be a rabbit, Simon," Ser Rutherford had counseled me, "Remain still in the brush until a threat has passed. If the threat will not pass, stay still long enough for it to come in striking distance. You need not be powerful to overwhelm an opponent, only precise.
I eased my other arm from the sling, for I would not be able to eliminate the threat with only one arm. Switching the blade to my weak hand, I flexed my fingers around the handle and felt the searing pain, but I needed my strong arm to incapacitate my target. No armor, no sword, but I still had my wits after so many years.
I waited behind a tree, listening carefully for the rustling of the brown grass to betray the man as he approached close enough. He passed with a short sword drawn and as he passed my arms shot out, my right hand clapped over his mouth, the other swiftly ran the knife across his throat. The squealing was squelched by my fingers as the blood spurted onto my sleeves and over my hands, but I held tight. When the man's jerking had subsided I lowered him to the ground and proceeded to draw closer to Bruna, the leader sitting astride his horse and towering above her.
She had stilled in her preparations in order to regard the man before her and he stared back at her condescendingly. I weaved around the horses where the men had left them milling about the clearing, careful not to startle them with my movements, though they appeared nervous and tense already. One of them whinnied as I brushed past it and paused.
Bruna must have caught sight of me, realizing my proximity, for she observed, "I belong here. You have yet to account for your presence in this place. Why are you here?"
"I am not accountable to you," he snorted, "Your kind is being forced from the Cauldron. If I find nothing amiss, I will consider whether or not to turn you over to the Templars. They have rounded up plenty of you. In the meantime I want to see that sword. Fetch it here."
Her face was neutral as she turned and walked to the sword, solidly gripping it beneath the pommel at the sheath. The man beckoned her forward, to which she complied, stopping short a foot from him and raising it slightly with only her left hand, though its weight caused her arm to tremble. The man leaned forward and down to relieve her of it. When he had bent as far as he would go, she swung out swiftly with the right had that still gripped the kettle by the handle, striking him on the side of his temple. Being already off balance and awkward due to the way he was leaning, the surprise strike easily unhorsed him. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud as I rushed forward and Bruna hopped back beyond his reach. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck with my good hand, I hauled him to his feet before I looped my arm beneath his right armpit, pressing the palm of the hand behind his neck and against the pressure point there. My left hand gripped the knife tightly despite the throbbing of my arm, the knuckles were white, but I was determined to maintain control in spite of the pain. The point of the blade pressed against his pulse at the juncture of his neck and the back corner of his jaw.
"One of your men is dead," I hissed, my own pain causing my eyes to water, "it would not take much for me to kill you. Why are you here?"
The man chuckled, seemingly unconcerned with his predicament, "Only one? That means there are three more. One shout from me and they will come. Only one of you is armed and could probably face them in a fight. They will dispatch you before you can do me much harm."
"You presume much for a man with a knife at his throat. One flick of my wrist and you are dead." I sneered, willing myself to stay my hand but maintain the pressure. I wanted information; being the leader of this group he was the one most likely to possess it. If they had already captured the king and Letha, then perhaps he could be a bargaining chip for their release, but it would be of no consequence if his men killed us while we attempted to glean information from him.
I did not have long to consider my conundrum. Suddenly there was screaming and a commotion coming from the woods. The horses were frightened and bolted as the three remaining men ran screaming into the clearing surrounded by huts. Following closely at their heels was the largest spider I had ever recalled seeing. I had heard tales of them, but by the grace of the Maker had never come into contact with them in my many years, until this moment. It made a skittering sound as ichor drooled from its mandibles, with a sudden leap it landed on one of the hapless men as he stumbled backwards. The man was impaled by its jaws and sucked deeply the man's blood, with a rasping sound akin to the slurp a man makes when drinking from a bowl of soup. The spider then shot a string of web at another man, tripping him as he ran and then stalked toward him, surrounding him quickly with its silk as the man struggled, thrashing like a snake until the spider either stunned or killed him with a quick strike to the head. The third man ran screaming towards us when he was caught by an arrow between his shoulder blades, causing him to stop suddenly as if in shock before keeling forward, dead.
I released my hold on the mercenary in order to stagger back, grabbing up my sword, struggling to unsheathe it with my right hand. Even gripping it in both hands and lifting it, I could feel the stitches in my shoulder tear further and growled with the strain. I shuffled to the side, trying to place myself between Bruna and the greater threat of the spider.
The man I had released scrabbled backwards across the ground as the spider made its way toward us, slowly as if it was stalking us, keeping us within its many eyed gaze.
"Bruna, when I rush the spider, run into the woods. If you stay in the open it will be easier to catch you." I whispered to her as she stood behind me. The man whimpered and picked up the hunting knife I had discarded to unsheathe the sword. He was no longer arrogant; he was more concerned with getting out alive.
"Ser Lion," Bruna quietly replied, "that is not a spider, regardless of how it appears. Even if that were not the case, it did not fire the arrow that killed that man. There is more than a spider here."
"Indeed," came a distinctly feminine voice, "you are wise, Mountain Mother. Not given to believe all that is laid before you at a glance. You are truly one of the mountain children."
The monstrous spider seemed to diminish slightly as it moved forward. The extra legs retracted and it stretched up, its bulbous form thinning out. The dark skin lightened in spots, revealing patches of pale, human skin. A head extended, with the visage of a woman becoming visible with bright yellow eyes, similar to those of an owl, seeing all before her. Black hair crowned her head and her dark red lips crooked in a cool smile.
She stopped and stood before us, slinging a staff from off her back, resting it onto the ground, looking at us with an appraising gaze before pointing her staff in the direction of the leader, "You have been asked twice. Now you are being asked a third time. Your life hinges on the answer. Why are you here?"
"Witch!" he howled, spitting the word with such venom.
"Wrong answer," she stated before a bolt of electricity shot out at him, striking him squarely on the chest and knocking him to the ground again.
She walked forward, ignoring us completely, and stood over the prone man as he shuddered with the shock until it ebbed and he merely twitched nervously. She touched her staff to his throat near where my knife had nicked his flesh, "This is your last opportunity to appease this witch. What is your purpose for being here?"
"I was hired by Arl Boese of Swidden," he moaned, fear in his eyes as he stared up at her, "he has gathered mercenaries from Ferelden and over the border in Orlais. They say he is planning a siege on Denerim using Orlesian ships to attack by sea. He needed men to create a landing force. He did not have enough Templars."
I was shocked and startled, "What would spur him to make such a move?"
The man smiled at me, "He does not confide in me the specifics. He merely says he has a rendezvous in Denerim that he must keep."
"What about the Orlesian ships?" I demanded, my hand balling into a fist, "Where did he get them?"
"A rich backer in Val Royeaux, I suspect. He receives missives from over the border, but has yet to trust any of my men with them. He is currently orchestrating his strategies with Arl Crewe." He chuckled at me, "He has some contacts in Denerim as well. One of them was your comrade at arms, Old Knight!"
I straightened up slightly at that but continued to glare at him, and he continued, "What? Are you surprised that I recognized you? You might not remember me for you were unconscious at the time we transported you. Ser Eddols led you into the ambush for us, but got himself killed. We had not been paid the full amount promised and planned to ransom you back to Redcliffe in order to get the money back, hoping that Boese would not find out about our taking a side assignment while working for him. Eddols wanted you out of the way, but did not tell us why. We only get paid for our actions and we receive a bonus if we don't ask questions."
"You bastard!" I ground and he merely laughed outright.
"What are you hoping to gain by continuing on here?" he taunted, "You are one man. We captured that other knight of yours and the woman he was travelling with and the Templars have brought them to Arl Crewe. You are alone! You have no hope of taking down Arl Boese and you are lost in the Cauldron, no opportunity to get word back to Denerim at this distance with any hope of it reaching them in time before he makes his move. You have lost!"
"So the Arl of Swidden is raising an army?" the dark woman prodded, drawing his attention back to her, "That is a bold move so close to Orlais, unless he has the Empress' blessing."
"As I said, I know nothing of his connections in Orlais!" he sneered.
"Then you are of no more use to me." She quipped before sending another bolt through the staff and directly into the man's body. He screamed, and the sound only got louder until it was nothing more than a piercing whistle. He smoked, his skin blackened, his body shuddered violently and we took another step back until the sound and the throes had subsided. He was nothing more than a blackened cinder on the ground, still crackling slightly with the after effects of the attack.
The woman turned her calm visage to us, her voice edged with thoughtfulness, "Now what to do with you, I wonder. He addressed you as knight, though you wear no armor. You do not carry yourself as a Templar but as an old soldier."
"I am Ser Simon Gray," I intoned, watching her warily like you would a wild animal, waiting for her to turn her staff on me. When she failed to lash out at me I continued, "I am a knight bound in service to King Alistair."
Though her expression did not waver at my words, something snapped to attention in her eyes, she continued archly, "So you serve the King himself. He would not just send any man into the wilds alone. You must be well trusted."
I sighed, "As the mercenary said, I was leading a group of my fellow knights when we were betrayed."
"And what was your mission, I wonder?" she asked with a slight upward lilt to her voice.
"We were on a diplomatic mission to make contact with the arlings here in the Cauldron," I shook my head, carefully withholding some of what I knew, "things have become complicated and our mission has altered slightly. I must rescue my comrade from the Arl of Cloughbark."
She continued to regard me for another moment before observing, "You are very brave, to be injured and yet attack a more able opponent." She made a vague gesture to my shoulder, with blood blossoming across the tunic, proof that I had torn the stitches, "You also willingly placed yourself in front of this woman to protect her from harm. A potentially foolhardy action, but it leads me to believe that you do not despise the wilder mountain folk."
"I have no reason to despise anyone but the scum that is threatening my country," I growled. I felt she was toying with me and I was tired of being manipulated, whether by the capricious hand of Fate or by this strange woman who seemed to look right through me and down to my small clothes. Bruna, sensing my rising choler, placed a warning hand upon my uninjured shoulder to bring me back to myself.
"Hmmm," she sighed, turning her back to me momentarily, pacing as if considering something, "I currently have an accord with an Avvar tribe in this vicinity and they have allowed me to live among them for a time while I search for something I require. In truth, I am being accompanied by a hunting party that has strayed slightly, hoping to locate some game in this forgotten hold." She indicated the man lying on the ground with the arrow in his back. We had seen no other evidence of the person who had shot it. She explained, "However, the upheaval has placed certain obstacles in my way. The Avvar people have become unhappy with the actions of these arls: Crewe and Boese. They claim that whatever they are doing is poisoning the land. Not only that, I can feel the boundaries of the Fade becoming thin in places. I have even noticed some tearing in weak areas. If this continues I will not be able to achieve what I have come here to do."
I remained silent, interpreting that she was not requiring me to respond and she continued, "The scattered tribes of the Cauldron are preparing for war against the arls, to drive them out. A desperate action, to my mind, but I need them to win."
"What does this have to do with me?" I questioned, feeling that she was leading us somewhere.
"These people are not prepared to meet a force with armor and superior weapons." She answered, "It does not mean they cannot win. It means that it makes it more difficult. Add to that the fact that they are fractured at best, fighting amongst themselves at the best of times. They are in desperate need of something that I am unable to provide, but I think you might offer quite handsomely."
"What is it?" I asked, my jaw becoming tight with expectation.
"A leader," she smiled at me her crooked smile that only touched one side of her mouth, her eyebrow arching as she gauged my response before expanding, "You could lead these people against the arls. I am certain you must be aware of tactics and maneuvers. It would be a challenge, but I think you will do nicely."
"I have not led men into battle since the final skirmishes of the Blight in Denerim." I replied in the negatory.
"Then you have more recent experience than many of the Avvar men. Their last major battles were decades ago. The battle in Denerim is but a year past." She stated this simply, as if what she said made perfect sense.
I shook my head and insisted, "I have a responsibility to my comrade. It cannot wait."
"And how will you rescue him, Ser Knight?" she rejoined, "As that scum had stated truly, you are alone. Would not your chances be improved if you had an entire force behind you? Lay siege on the Arl of Cloughbark and regain your comrade at arms? Would that not be a far better plan than riding in alone only to be shot down by the archers at the top of the walls."
She had me…she had me and she knew it. I hung my head, unable to reply and she accepted that as answer enough, "You see reason far easier than many of the others I have had the misfortune to travel with. Now gather your things, Ser and Lady Mountain. I recommend you use what is in your skins to put out the fire and avoid drinking it. It is not fit and has been tainted with lyrium. We have better water farther up the mountain side that is not affected."
I looked to Bruna and she nodded. We dumped our water over the fire to snuff it out and piled it over with more dust to be extra sure. When the woman was certain we had completed gathering all that we needed, she led us into the woods, hardly giving us another glance.
"How should I address you?" inquired Bruna as we made our way through the trees, going to meet with the hunters that had been travelling with the apostate woman who carried herself more proudly than any noble I had ever met.
"I have no title," the woman called over her shoulder, her ebony hair bobbing slightly with each swaying step she took, "but you may call me Morrigan."