I never liked that magic could hurt allies. Never saw any sense in that – why is it 'realistic' that someone can conjure a huge fireball, freeze everything around, cause a storm of the century – but the idea of the same person being able to control the spell and who will it hurt is not. One of the first mods I downloaded was one that fixed this.

Those who will recognize what inspired Airam's speech will get a big internet cookie from me. :)

Thanks to Seika, my wonderful beta, for her help. Thanks to her, this chapter is new and shiny. :D

Demons Of Our Own

How ironic. Only few days ago he had laughed at the Wardens for being incorrigible fools, trying to help everyone in a pathetic, doomed village. And now, there he was, trying his best to help them do the same. Except this village was even more pathetic. Life really was a bitch.

After what happened in the Circle Tower, he wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. It didn't really matter where they went, as long as there were no demons there. It was rather modest wish, no? But the first thing they found out when they arrived, was that the village was under attack, by some sort of monsters. And of course, they had to help. Personally, he wouldn't do it, but he kept the thought to himself. Morrigan and Sten provided more than a sufficient dose of snapping and sarcasm.

Besides, the boy was already on edge. First, there was Alistair. The poor simpleton really thought that it is enough to drag the boy few meters away, to tell him his secret. Of course he spied on them. As did Leliana and Morrigan. Wynne apparently somehow knew already, and Sten couldn't care less. So they all knew he was a royal bastard, but they pretended to have no idea. But while he was amused by all this farce, the little Warden was clearly not. The boy was bright enough to realize the consequences, and it seemed he was more frightened of nobles' games than of the Archdemon. Which was not surprising after all, he was an elf, a mage and only recently a released prisoner.

And if the leaders of this pathetic shithole were any indication, the little Warden was quite right in his thoughts. Incompetent as they were, they were still convinced of their superiority over an elf. The Bann was outright rude when they first met, talking only to Alistair and ignoring the boy completely. Oh, the look on his face, when Alistair pointed out that the elf was in fact the leader who must approve of helping to the village! Priceless! The Bann quickly apologized, muttering that he didn't know elves were allowed to be Wardens.

If Airam was hurt by such behaviour, he didn't show it. He just asked the Bann about the attacks, and what was done to defend the village; even Alistair had to see that his almost-relative was totally incompetent.

Really, it almost looked as if the idiots wanted their village to be destroyed. Their defence was practically non-existent. Women, children, and elders were simply crammed into the Chantry. When the boy asked why they were not transported somewhere to safety, the Bann haughtily explained that it would not be wise, with the current political situation–Loghain trying to get the throne and the Arl Eamon gravely ill-to spread news in other towns and villages about some monsters. At the rather sarcastic question if total annihilation would not cause even greater panic, the fool replied that they had the situation under control.

The boy merely stared at the Bann for a moment, then asked innocently if that meant that their help was not really needed, then. And once again, the look at the Bann's face was priceless. It took all of his Crow discipline not to start laughing. Even Alistair looked embarrassed by the Bann's stupidity. After all, they all saw how "under control" the situation really was, when they arrived into the village.

There was a small group of knights–most of the castle knights were gone chasing some long lost relic–but they were unorganized, depressed, and resigned. Then there was the militia, hastily organized by the mayor of the village. Half of them were drinking in the inn; their biggest worry that the beer was too expensive. The other half was "patrolling" outside, which meant they were doing nothing but whining about how they were going to die. Which was probably true, seeing as how inexperienced they were. The few men that had some fighting experience barricaded themselves in their houses, ignoring the militia and their "defense" of the village. And the cherry on the top was the smith, who shut himself in his house, stubbornly refusing to open the forge, trying to drown himself in bad beer instead.

And Teagan was "controlling" all that chaos from the safety of the Chantry–doing nothing. Oh, well, maybe he was wronging him. Maybe he was praying to the Maker to send some powerful warriors at the last minute.

Then again, it had apparently worked – they were here, no? Hmmm.

So now Alistair, Sten and Leliana were busy improving the defense, pulling up barricades, giving some basic tips to wannabe soldiers, and explaining basic tactics. Wynne and Morrigan were trying to figure out what kind of magic would be the most efficient against the monsters–by description they were some kind of undead. Neither of them was too happy about this forced cooperation, but in the end, they agreed–Wynne from the sense of duty towards the helpless villagers, and Morrigan thanks to nice jeweled bracelet that the boy gave her. Where and when he got it was anyone's guess, but he surely pulled it out in the right moment. Full of surprises, that kid.

So that left two of them, plus the beast that the boy claimed to be a dog, with the pleasant task of "lifting morale", which meant trying to sweet-talk rebels that for some reason preferred their own life over the collective suicide, into obedience. Sometimes they had to explain to the poor fools that sacrificing their lives for the greater good was not only the most honourable death, but also the least painful one. In comparison with being burned to ashes by one very irritated Grey Warden, for example.

Well, in fact, the little Warden only used threats once, at the silly dwarf, he forgot the name again, and his silly companions. They were incredibly stubborn, resisting all arguments and promises, and only when they noticed small sparks between his fingers, did they realize how selfish and despicable their previous behaviour was.

The boy even managed to persuade the smith to start working, more as encouragement for soldiers than anything else. It was not likely that he would be able to do everything he ignored during last three days. But having armor seemed to help; the moment the men saw the smith working again their mood improved, and there was a bit less whining.

Then they got the blessed amulets for the commander of knights, who didn't know how to speak to an elf as to an equal, from the revered mother, who was surprised to see an elf behaving like a civilized person. The result being that the little Warden was so furious, that the next human that would dare to speak to him would most likely end up as a frog. Not that it wouldn't be fun, but this was probably not the best time for it.

"May I make a suggestion, Warden? I believe we've helped every single cretin in this village, and we still have some time left. Let's take a break and go for a drink. What say you?"

"You mean in that disgusting, smelly, mouldy, dirty hole they call an inn?"

"Come now, it's not that bad. Well, it is, but it's still better than nothing, no? We might well be dead in a few hours, surely you don't want to die thirsty and grumpy because of some stupid shem?"

"Riiiiiight. Because being grumpy with diarrhea because of some foul beer sounds so much better."

Laughing, he dragged the boy to the inn. It was almost empty now–all men that could fight were training outside, and most of the others were already in the Chantry. The innkeeper seemed to be almost as frustrated as his little Warden, and glared at them with open hostility.

"You again. What do you want now? Haven't you ruined my business enough already?"

"My dear man! How can you say so? We earned for your inn eternal glory! During next generations, all people will want to come to the inn where the most famous Grey Wardens were, and drink the same beer they did! Thanks to us, you will be rich and famous! Surely that deserves some appreciation? Let's say, in the form of one hundred percent discount for the Grey Wardens and their party? Starting right now, of course. Bring us the best you have, and we will spread your fame even beyond the borders of Ferelden!"

The innkeeper did not seem to share his enthusiasm about the glorious future, but he did not dare to protest. Grumbling, the guy disappeared in the back of the inn and soon the maid came, with two pints of beer. He had to smile when the boy's face brightened immediately. But he was more concerned with the guy who just came downstairs from one of the rooms. If that wasn't a spy, he never saw one.

"Bella. That guy who just came–the elf with the bow–who's that?"

"That's Berwick. He's staying here, for more than a week. Says he's supposed to meet his brother here. He never talks to anyone. Really weird one, if you ask me."

"What do you think, Zevran; shouldn't we try to talk to him a little bit? To find out what bothers him?"

He nodded, glad to see that the boy was sharp enough to understand. They took their beers and went to sit down next to the elf, who did not seem to be pleased at all.

"Hello there! So nice to see a fellow elf! What brings you to Redcliffe at this troubled time?"

"Leave me alone. Just because we're both elves doesn't mean we have to be friends, Warden."

"Ah, you wound me. But as you wish, we won't be friendly, then. And how do you know I'm a Warden?"

"What? I–uh, I overheard it somewhere. Now if you don't mind, I'd prefer to be alone."

"But I do mind, I'm afraid. So, once again–what is an armed and armoured elf doing in Redcliffe?"

"If you really have to know, I'm waiting for my brother!"

"And what would your brother do here?"

"I–that's none of your business!"

The guy was starting to panic, looking around for any possibility of escape. It was pathetic. Whoever hired this man had wasted their money.

"Look… why don't you try telling the truth, for a change? It would be faster, easier… and for you, also healthier."

"I–I'm not afraid of you! Just because you're a Grey Warden, you cannot hurt innocent people!"

"And who's going to stop me? Now, I'll only ask this one last time. What are you doing in Redcliffe?"

The boy's voice was cold and menacing. Holy Maker, he could easily scare even Crow Masters. The elf guy started to whimper, defeated.

"P-please, don't kill me! I'll tell you everything! I was hired to spy on the Arl, but then these attacks started, and I couldn't get even near to the castle any more!"

"To spy on the Arl? Why? Who ordered it? Go on, don't stop talking now."

"The man who hired me he said he was working for Arl Howe, he said it's the king's business, that Eamon was a traitor to the country. I – I really didn't do anything wrong. I came here ten days ago, and then, three days later, the Arl became ill, and it seemed he was going to die soon. But then, a few days ago, the castle's gates were shut and no one could get in, and in the night, those monsters appeared. Since then, I wasn't able to get any news about the Arl and I don't know if he's dead, or what to report. That's all, really! I don't know anything about those monsters. "

"And you stayed here? Did you think that those monsters will say, 'hey, he's not from here, let's not hurt him', after they kill everyone else?"

"No, I–I wanted to leave today, before the nightfall…"

"I have a better idea; you'll go out, and find Leliana–she's a pretty red-haired girl, you can't miss her–and offer your help in the defence of the village. What do you say?"

"Yes! Yes, I'll do that! T-thank you for your mercy, kind Ser!"

The guy bowed down and bolted out. He arched an eyebrow on the boy, who was grinning widely.

"What? I tried to be nice. He said we don't have to be friends!"

"I fully agree. Feeling better?"

"Not enough."

They were about to leave the inn–they should prepare themselves, as well, after all–when the innkeeper came, yelling at them for "driving away his guests", and claiming they should pay him "lost profit". The fool would probably have gotten away with that, if he hadn't mix in a few "knife-ears" and "dirty beasts". And right then, it was the worst possible thing to say in front of the little Warden.

"You know, I have to wonder; why is such a fine, brave human not out there with the soldiers, defending the village?"

"What? No way. Call me a coward, but I'm staying out of that mess. I don't want to die."

"No? In that case, I have a proposal: either you go and help, or you die right here and now. What will you choose?"

"You have no right to do that! Bann Teagan said –"

"Bann Teagan made me the leader of the defence. And if you refuse to help, I will consider it desertion. The sentence for that is death. So make your choice, now."

"All right, I'll help, you… murderer." The innkeeper turned away and walked out as quickly as his big belly allowed him, murmuring worst curses he knew.

"And now?"

"Still not enough; too easy. But I already know who my next victim is. But first – this puts Bella in charge here, no? So I guess we should pay."

He disagreed, but kept it for himself, once again. After all, what he said to the innkeeper was true. This damned place would become famous, once the little Warden became a hero. A few free beers was the least that they could get, after all they had to do here. But if the boy wanted to play a gentleman, he was the last one to spoil the fun.

"Bella, how can you stand that fat pig? A beautiful girl like you deserves much better than to work in a cesspit like this."

"It's very nice of you to say so, Warden, but I have nowhere else to go."

"Why not? You could leave, for Denerim, or anywhere else. What keeps you here?"

"Forgive him, my lady. He's a fledgling, fresh from the Circle Tower, has never had to take care of himself and has no idea what he's talking about."

"Is that so?" The boy shot him an angry look. "Hm… well, all right, it probably is. But… perhaps I could help, somehow? At least I could give you some money… or something…"

That was quite unexpected, and girl suddenly looked wary and suspicious. "Why would you care? What do you want from me?"

He grinned a bit, when he saw the boy blush a little. So sweet and innocent. So he prefers women, does he? Never mind; he wouldn't be the first one whose horizons he broadened.

"No, no, that's not… all I want is, that you wouldn't work in a place like this any more. Nothing else, really!"

"You may trust him in that, my dear lady. He simply is like that. Helping everywhere he can. A day without saving some poor soul doesn't count for our Warden."

"Right now, I'm starting to regret saving one particular poor soul." The boy glared at him in mock anger.

"Yes, well, maybe it will be rectified tonight. And if you don't want to die as well, we really should go to see the others."

"Yes, let's go to see the Bann, shall we? I want to, ah, discuss few things with him."

He looked at the kid curiously. Surely he cannot mean to; no, he wasn't that foolish. That would be dangerous game, even for the Grey Warden. Then again, the kid was crazy enough to do it, and to get away with it. On the way, the boy stopped to tell Alistair to get all men to the square in front of the Chantry for a small pep talk from the Bann. Alistair welcomed it as brilliant idea–and he had to agree. He thought he knew where this was going, and if he was right, the Bann was in for a long night.

But the boy gave the Bann the chance–the Bann could give the talk himself. It was his own fault he left it to the crazy kid, who accepted with suspicious willingness.

When they got out, the small square was crowded with men, grim, scared, and full of doubts. The boy and the Bann went right into the middle, the boy looking as if he did this at least once per week. When they got everyone's attention, the boy took a deep breath, lifted his arms, and begun.

"Men, I know you are afraid of those monsters. Yes, they are strong, and they are greater in numbers. But remember, men, we are Fereldans! All real Fereldans love the sting and clash of battle! Ferelden loves winners and will not tolerate a loser. Fereldans despise a coward; Fereldans fight to win.

"Do not fear death. Death, in time, comes to all of us, as my friend here often says. And every man is scared before the battle. If he says he's not, he's a Makerdamn liar. The real hero is the man who fights, even though he's scared. A real man will never let the fear of death overpower his honour, his sense of duty, to his home and to his manhood.

"And one day, when you're sitting around the fireside with your grandson on your knee and he asks you what you did when Redcliffe needed you, you won't have to shift him to the other knee, cough, and say, 'I crouched in the cellar with rats.'

"So tonight, we will fight, all of us together–Bann Teagan, me, the Wardens, all of you–tonight we will fight as one! Humans and elves, mages side by side with knights! And we will be unstoppable! We will win and destroy all those monsters once and for all!"

He never understood how he managed to keep a straight face. But it worked. The men were cheering, looking more confident; everyone, except perhaps, the Bann. The poor guy had no chance now but to fight. As a noble–a Fereldan noble–he probably had better martial training than most of these fellows, so he should be all right. Still, it was risky game. He would probably not forget this little trick, and that could cause problems later. Ah well. If that happens, he would just have to assassinate him, no?

"So, what do you say? Was it good? I never did something like that before."

"Oh, it was quite glorious, never fear that. Did you read that in some book?"

"Well yeah. But I did not remember it all. The original was much longer and more eloquent."

"No, no, this was quite enough, I assure you. So what now, my dear Warden? Are you finally content, or do you want to recruit the revered mother, as well?"

"Hm… perhaps I should. You saw Leliana fight, no? I'm sure the revered mother would be just as lethal. Her tongue certainly is poisonous."

"Hahaha, you're certainly right there. But honestly, I don't think it's such a good idea. And besides, shouldn't you go to Wynne and Morrigan to see what they found out? You really don't have time for this any more."

"Right. And Zevran… I–what I said in the inn, I didn't really mean it."

"I know. No need to apologize, Warden."

"Just… try not to die, all right?"

Suppressing the desire to pull the boy in a hug and passionately kiss him, he just grinned. "My dear Warden, I might not be Fereldan, but I always fight to win."

"I seem to remember otherwise."

That sent shivers down his spine. Did it really mean what he thought? But how would the boy know? He swallowed and quickly turned away. "Do not worry. Tonight, I will do my best. I will survive."

oOo

And he did. Barely. If those monsters were organized, if they had any sort of strategy, Redcliffe would have fallen. Luckily, they were not very clever. It was the first time he was in such a battle, and he once again confirmed his skill in stealth and assassination.

But it was worth it, if only to see the combined power of three mages. Andraste's sweet ass, he never saw anything like that, and he hoped he never would again. When they summoned the storm at the same time – the boy ice blizzard, Morrigan tempest with lightning, and Wynne adding some mass paralysis spell – he forgot to fight, for a moment, and just watched, fascinated.

Magic was beyond his grasp. He could never understand how it was possible that destructive spells did not affect the caster or his allies. The boy and Wynne both tried to explain to him how it worked, but all he got from it was that it somehow included the Fade and strong will. We use our magic to reshape the reality at our will. The spells reflect our will, do what we want them to do. I really cannot put it more simple, was the boy's conclusion after long and fruitless discussion on the subject.

He was awakened from his fascination by one particularly ugly undead trying to crack his skull, and focused on fighting again. In the end, it was not the magic that saved them, but good old sunlight. At the first sign of dawn, the monsters became disoriented, as if disconnected from the will that ordered them to move forward. They stopped fighting, dropped their weapons and started to slowly retreat back to the castle. It was easy to slaughter them.

So victory it was, but nobody felt like celebrating. Many died, and most of those who survived were severely injured. The three unwilling defenders survived; the Bann wasn't even injured that badly. Of course, that wasn't surprising–he knew Alistair had been constantly at his side, protecting him and that the boy secretly placed few protective spells and glyphs on him. Much more surprising was that the innkeeper and Howe's spy survived as well, though the innkeeper would probably have nasty scar on his face. Despite obvious exhaustion, Wynne immediately started with the healing. The boy was about to help her, when he was pulled away by the Bann. Curious, he silently followed them.

"If I may, Warden. We should decide what to do next. Or they will be back again at sundown, and this time, even with your help, we won't make it."

He noted with no small amusement, that the man's voice was most respectful, even bit humble, now.

The boy nodded. "We must find out what is behind this. That means we must get to the castle. Tell me, how many people usually live in the castle?"

"Forty servants, and some two hundred soldiers–many were sent to find the sacred Urn of Andraste's Ashes, however. Why? Wait… you don't think… they were turned, somehow, into those… monsters?"

"It would be one explanation. But I'd say we defeated more than that number today, and it was the fourth attack… They must be summoned, then. Is there any way to sneak in? Whoever is summoning them, it would be best if he didn't know we're coming."

"There is a secret passage, leading to the mill. So do you have a plan? We should make our move quickly."

"Give me half an hour. We'll meet at the mill."

When the Bann was far enough from them, he and stepped out of the shadows. "If you need someone sneaking around, Warden, I believe I'm the best choice."

"Yes, it would seem so. Still alive, I see?"

"My dear Warden, I intend to die in the arms of some deadly sex goddess–or a god, I'm not picky-not at the decaying hands of a man already killed by someone else."

After a short but intense quarrel, they finally left for the castle. The boy decided to go only with him, Morrigan and Leliana. They were tired, but without serious injuries, and after drinking a few potions, felt ready and willing to go. Sten was injured, his right arm broken in two places, and Wynne could do more good healing the others, so they quietly agreed to the plan. Alistair, however, was furious and determined not to give up easily.

"It's because of–of what I told you, isn't it! See, that's why I didn't want to mention it till I had to!"

"Nonsense. It's because we're trying to sneak in, and you, Al, in that armour, could not sneak past deaf and blind cripple!"

It took few more similar compliments on both sides, till Alistair submitted and stormed away. Such a pity they were in a hurry–that was quite funny to watch.

oOo

When they arrived to the mill, they found out the Bann in the company of a woman–he introduced her as Arlessa Isolde. The moment the boy found out who she was, he became rather cold toward her. Probably because of Alistair. Still such a child, this Warden.

The Arlessa gave an explanation of what was going on at the castle, but it didn't really explain anything. She said there was a mage who tried to poison the Arl and then monsters appeared and there was something evil that was keeping the Arl alive and now it required the Bann to go with her back to the castle, alone. The boy warned the human that it was probably a trap, and that the something was probably a demon. But did the foolish man listen? Oh no. Why would he listen to the knife-ear who just happened to save their pathetic village, yes?

So the two of them ran off, and they could only hope they would not tell that something about their arrival through the secret passage.

The secret passage was really the shortest way to the castle, and led straight to the dungeon. Which was flooded by those monsters, of course. So much for sneaking.

Then they heard those screams. Desperate, blood-chilling screams. The boy stopped, eye widening in horror. At first he thought the boy was simply scared, but then the boy run forward, ignoring Leliana's warnings and Morrigan's curses.

"Jowan? Jowan, where are you?"

He exchanged glances with Leliana–they both remembered the name. The old Templar geezer in the Tower said that the little Warden helped some Jowan to escape. Well, whoever it was, it seemed he hadn't escaped that far .

"What are you doing, guys? Over here, quickly! Open these damned doors for me!"

Slowing down, he let Leliana step forward and unlock the door. He wasn't so good at picking locks–he knew the basics, but never really needed it. All his marks opened their doors–and anything else–for him more than willingly. But he didn't think it wise to admit that to the Wardens. At least, not until he'd found something in which they would depend on him, so they would be willing to forgive a small lie without gruesome consequences.

The man in the cell was crumpled on the floor; whimpering, covering his head with hands, clearly unable to recognize the boy or anyone else. He was almost naked, wearing only some torn and dirty loincloth and a magic-blocking collar. There were the traces of severe whipping, inflamed and swollen, covering his back, bottom and things.

"No, no, please, it wasn't me, I didn't summon them, not any more, I'm begging you, please, please, just kill me, don't leave me with those monsters…"

"It's all right, Jon, it's me, Airam, I'm here, can you hear me? It's all right now, I'm here, I won't let anyone to hurt you."

So that's the mage the Arlessa mentioned… that didn't make any sense. If he was powerful enough to summon hundreds of walking corpses, why would he let them to imprison and torture him?

But it seemed the little Warden didn't care about it at all. It was probably the first time he had ever seen the victim of torture, and the fact that the victim was his friend made it even worse. Kneeling down, the boy tried to heal the wounds, but his hands were shaking, and the spells were much weaker than usually; the collar prevented both casting and receiving magic.

"Leliana, can you do something with that cursed collar! Morrigan, hand me some poultices, Zevran please guard the door and make sure we're not interrupted. Blast it! Jon, what did those bastards do to you!"

Morrigan and Leliana were cleaning his wounds, and then rubbing in the poultices. The boy sat down and put Jowan's head in his lap, striking his hair and softly talking to him, calming him down. For some reason, that made him feel envious of the unhappy guy. He tried few lascivious comments, but the boy just gave him that look–the 'don't-disturb-me-now-with-idiotic-remarks' one–so he stopped, and just watched.

Much later–he'd guess it took at least one hour, or even two–they were finally done; Jowan was covered in poultices almost from head to toes, but at least he was able to stand and walk.

And answer a few questions.

"Jowan, what happened? How did you get to be here, of all places?"

"Because I'm an idiot. I was caught shortly after I left the Tower and Templars took me to Denerim, to be publicly executed as a maleficar. But in Denerim, I was suddenly taken to the palace, to the Teyrn, and – "

"To Loghain? What for?"

"He had an offer for me. He said that if I did a service to the Crown, my offences would be forgiven, and not only would I be allowed to return to the Tower, but they would also free Lily from Aeonar. If I refused, I would be executed."

"To poison the Arl?"

"So you know already. Yes, that was my doing. I feel sorry for him, he seemed to be a decent man, though the Teyrn told me he was a traitor trying to usurp the throne. But I had to try to save Lily. I knew the Teyrn needed me just as a scapegoat, I'm not that stupid. But Lily… I'd do anything to get her out of that place."

Those words hit the nerve. To do that for a woman… for a moment, he almost wished he was able to do something like that. If Ri- if she was not killed, but imprisoned… would he have done anything? If he had time–if she wasn't killed so quickly–would he try to find out if she was really guilty? Would he try save her if he knew she wasn't? He would like to believe he would.

The crazy kid would save her even if she was guilty.

After a brief discussion, it was decided to take Jowan with them; it was not safe to leave him behind, in an unlocked cell, and even though healed, he was still weak and if attacked by those creatures, he would not survive for long.

And so they went trough the castle, leaving a bloody trail behind them. It was good that Morrigan was with them–most of the potions and poultices were spent on Jowan, so the boy had to concentrate mainly on healing spells. Still, after what he went trough during the night, or in the Tower, this was more boring and annoying than difficult.

They were finally near the main hall, when they suddenly heard music and someone laughing, and stopped. In all that destruction and dozens of walking corpses, the sound was… unnerving. Warily, they readied their weapons and entered the hall.

It was easily the creepiest thing he ever saw. The hall was full of people, laughing, singing, dancing –all with blank expressions, all with empty eyes, as if they were some ridiculously big puppets, moved by invisible strings. In the centre of it all was the Bann, dancing–well, at least trying to dance, skipping and waving his hands like a monkey. The Arlessa was standing next to a boy, obviously her son, who was laughing and clapping, as if it was most natural thing in the world.

When they entered, everything stopped. The boy glared at them, with pure hatred in his eyes.

"Are these the ones who spoiled my fun in the village, mother? They look strange. What are they?"

"They're elves, Connor. You know elves, we have… had elven servants in the castle." The Arlessa tried to sound cheerful, but her voice was shaky and terrified, and her son narrowed his eyes in anger.

"Ah yes, I remember. I fed their ears to dogs, didn't I? They were chewing for hours!"

He quickly glanced at Airam. The boy did not pay much attention to the child, carefully studying Arlessa's face.

"So he is the evil you mentioned. Your son. An abomination."

"How dare you call me that, elf! I should cut your ears, too–not only have you spoiled my fun in the village, but now you have ruined my party as well! Who do you think you are? What do you want from me?"

"I came to help." The boy kept his voice flat; it was impossible to guess what he was thinking.

"Help? Help who? My father? He is fine, I took care of him. Me? I do not need your help. I do not want you here. Leave now, or die."

"Funny, I just wanted to suggest the same thing. Get out of him, leave and never return. Or I will slay you."

The boy-demon screamed and run away from the room. And the same moment all those human puppets attacked them.

"Try not to kill them. They're in a trance and don't know what they're doing."

It was actually easier than the expected; the humans were not armed, and it seemed a good beating did them well, awakening them from the trance. What a pity it didn't work on all humans.

"Teagan! Are you all right?"

The Arlessa ran to the Bann, glowering a bit at the little Warden towering over the man.

"I'm fine. Where's Connor?"

"I don't know! He ran away, when these arrived."

"If you prefer to deal with this yourselves, I would be only too happy to oblige." The boy's voice was cold as he stared at the Arlessa as if she was a bit of smelly dirt on his robes.

"No, no! Please, Warden, don't leave us now, or all we've done–all you've done in the village will be for nothing! You must help us to end this madness, please!"

Ah. A real quick-learner, this Bann, isn't he?

"You are aware that the boy is an abomination, right? He is possessed by a demon. I'm afraid the only way to stop this madness, as you say, is to kill him."

"No! No, you cannot do that! He's just a baby! Please, have mercy on my son! I'm begging you!"

The boy's look softened when he looked at the Arlessa again; he suddenly looked sad and exhausted. "If I knew any way how to kill the demon and save your son at the same time, I swear would do it. But that's not –"

"It is possible." Jowan gulped nervously, as everyone turned to stare at him.

"You!" The Arlessa's face twisted in fury; if the Bann Teagan didn't hold her, she would gouge Jowan's eyes out. "You traitor, this is all your fault! You caused this, you summoned the demon! Why are you torturing my family? What have we done to you, to make you hate us so?"

"I didn't! I swear I – "

"What is that man doing here?" The Bann turned to the little Warden, fuming. "He should be rotting in the dungeon!"

"Enough." The boy didn't shout. And yet it worked. Everyone shut up and looked at him.

"Look. I had a very bad night, and an almost equally bad morning, with no sleep, and no food; I'm drenched in the blood of decaying corpses and I have terrible headache. So now one of you will calmly, and without shouting, explain everything to me. And I mean everything. No more lies and secrets. Is that clear?"

The Arlessa nodded. "I apologize, Warden. But this man... he poisoned my husband!"

"I said, no shouting. And I already know that. You called him a traitor. Does it mean you knew him before he poisoned your husband?"

"Yes, I did. Connor started to show signs of magic. I was scared that the templars would come and take him away from me, drag him to that Tower and I would never see him again. So I… I hired an apostate mage, to teach him magic in secret. I hoped, if Connor learned to hide his power… "

"I see. And then?"

Jowan sighed. "Then I did what Loghain told me to do. I put the poison they gave me in the Arl's cup," he explained, avoiding the Arlessa's gaze. "It was supposed to look as if the Arl died of illness, but the healers quickly found out the real reason, but they could not help him. I was caught and put to dungeon. I knew nothing of walking corpses or demons until the Arlessa visited me in the prison three days later."

The boy nodded, and looked at the Bann. "Why didn't you tell me all this earlier?"

"I was not here, I only returned from Denerim at the evening of the first attack, and didn't enter the castle until now.."

"Jowan, you said there is a way to save Connor?"

"Yes, there is a ritual. I can open a portal to Fade, and then another mage can get in and kill the demon in there. Connor would be unharmed; it would all seem just like a bad dream to him."

"So what's the catch?"

"It's a blood magic ritual. Someone will have to be… sacrificed."

"Then sacrifice me!" shouted Isolde, trying to squirm out from the Bann's grip. "I will do anything to save my baby!"

"Isolde, no! Eamon would not allow this!"

The little Warden did not reply. Zevran shot a sympathetic glance at him. How could they ask the boy to make such decision? Couldn't they see that the Warden was still a child himself? He felt anger rising in him, at all those pathetic fools that couldn't take responsibility for their own lives. It surprised him.

"In the fade… like the Harrowing?" The boy chewed his lip thoughtfully. "But it means there must be another way…"

"Well, yes. But the Harrowing ritual requires preparations, a lot of lyrium, and several mages… it takes time."

"And we have none of it–especially time. Whatever we do, Warden, we must do it before the sundown. We won't survive another attack. But I cannot let Isolde sacrifice herself. We must find some- other solution." The Bann folded his arms.

Someone else, you mean. Best some worthless knife-ear, yes? Zevran was furious. If the Bann suggests sacrificing someone else, I will quickly solve the problem by sacrificing him. Really, all this was hardly worth their trouble. They should kill the abomination and be over with it.

"We could get mages and lyrium from the Circle Tower… but it would take too long to get there. It took us full day only to get here… with the way back, it's two days." The boy frowned.

"Perhaps we could paralyse the kid somehow, till we get the help…" Jowan was obviously trying to prove his worth.

"Or we could bring some Templars to clean the area of magic…"

Morrigan snorted. "Such a brilliant idea, Leliana. I'm sure they will love our company–a maleficarum, an apostate and an abomination… Really, you should spend less time with the Chantry boy… 'tis having bad influence on your brain."

"Then I can ride to the Tower, I could get there much faster, no? Surely you have horses at the castle?" Leliana turned to the Bann.

"Yes, but mages cannot ride," the boy pointed out before the Bann could answer.

There was a moment of uneasy silence, as they had run out of ideas. He rolled his eyes. Really, he thought at lest the little Warden would realize the solution…

"Or we could use the boats."

Everyone turned to him, as if they had forgotten that he was also there. The Bann stared at him with his mouth open for a while, then bolted out of the room.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No, I think he just went to prepare the boat."

It was good to see the boy grinning again.

oOo

The rest of it was easy. They quickly agreed on the plan; Jowan and Morrigan would try to stop Connor from doing any more damage. Leliana would go to fetch Alistair and Wynne, just in case. The little Warden would go to the Tower on the Arl's ship. It could take ten people plus the crew, so it would be enough for all mages needed for the ritual. He volunteered to go with the boy. The boy refused at first, telling him to take some rest, but seemed actually glad when he insisted.

It took three hours to get to the Tower; they used it to get some sleep. Ignoring the protests of the Knight Commander, the boy marched right into the Irving's office, slamming the door to the Templar's face. The man was furious, and for a while it seemed he will rush in and drag the boy out, but thought better of it. Perhaps the fact that Zevran was standing right next to the door with devilish grin and hands on his daggers had something to do with it.

Preparations were done in surprisingly short time. The Knight Commander insisted on taking some Templars with him, and the boy insisted that in that case, he wanted only the "queen of Antiva". When the poor guy heard he was to go with the terrifying Warden and his murderous friend, he became almost as pale as the boy.

And so here they were, on their way back. The boy was quietly sitting on the deck, reading some book. He was also quietly sitting on the deck, carefully watching the boy. It suddenly occurred to him that the boy only looked relaxed and at peace when reading a book. Lost in his own world, he could ignore darkspawn, demons, and all those people asking for his help all the time.

"Warden? May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead." Despite the answer, the boy did not look away from his book.

"This Jowan… he's the blood mage you helped to escape, right? Isn't that a capital offence?"

"It is." The boy was still rather uninterested in the topic.

"So… why didn't you run away with him?"

"Running away from the Circle is useless, while they still have your phylactery."

"Phylactery?"

"A vial of mage's blood. Used to trace runaway mages lest they become evil maleficars and go on the rampage."

"How can a vial of blood help to trace someone?"

"Oh come on. You're not that stupid. It's actually pretty obvious."

"Are you saying that Chantry hunts down maleficars by using the blood magic?"

"Surprised?"

"No, but still, to make a deal with a demon just to hunt others who did the same…"

The boy laughed, but seemed a bit disappointed. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear about magic, Zevran. You don't need any demons for blood magic. All you need is a lot of blood. Now, if you would excuse me. I think I'll go rest some more."

That was most interesting. Was the boy trying to defend his friend… or himself?

oOo

Everyone expected it would be the little Warden, who would enter the Fade to fight the demon. But the boy made Jowan do it. They were not happy about it–Jowan least of all–but the boy was stubbornly refusing to see the reason.

And so Jowan went there, equipped with Airam's own staff, amulet and ring. While they were waiting, the boy tried to look calm, as he had to bear questions and comments and accusations of being ruthless and too trusting.

He thought the same thing, in fact. But to hear them say it, after everything the boy did to save their pitiful asses irritated him to no end, though he wasn't sure why. He almost wanted to drag the boy out of the hall, somewhere where these fools would leave them alone. Tomorrow. We will be out of here tomorrow. Just hold on a little bit longer.

How very wrong he was.

Jowan wasn't back more than five minutes–really, the boy hardly had time to say "See, I told you you could do it"–when Wynne, who was tending the Arl the whole time, came running.

"Warden, we have a big problem."

Of course.

Airam's speech is based on the speech of general George S. Paton: www. lizmichael patton. htm