PARALLEL CONTENT: GENESIS OF A DRAGON CH 27
9:30 Dragon, 16th of Harvestmere
It was a difficult reality to adjust to. Duncan stretched his arm across his body, trying to work out the lingering soreness in a spell-healed injury. He felt worn and weary, the exhaustion of surviving near-fatal wounds clinging close to his bones despite the magic used to aid his recovery.
The woman responsible for his mending—Hawke, he remembered the name she'd introduced herself with when he'd woken earlier that day—now fussed over Cailan along with another young lady who looked similar enough to her that their relation was obvious just from a glance.
Neither had the look of a Circle mage. Hawke was dressed as a soldier and her sister a simple farmgirl. And from the way their brother Carver watched him closely from the perimeter of the room, gauging his reaction to their spellcasting like he was just waiting for him to turn hostile, Duncan could easily conclude that they were apostates. Even if he were of the inclination to report them to the Chantry—which he was not—he could not deny that their magic had surely saved his life and Cailan's.
"You alright, old man?" Daveth asked from where he leaned against the wall. His posture was casual, but only because he was exerting effort to make it seem so. The rogue was as tired and worried as the rest of them.
"I am alive. The rest, I can deal with," Duncan said.
He still could not believe what had happened. He'd woken earlier that day before their small band of survivors had arrived in Lothering. Hawke, Carver, and Daveth had managed between the three of them to fill him in on a semi-comprehensible account of what had happened that night in Ostagar. It was not the first time in his life he felt he'd cheated death. But it was a moment when he found himself at a loss for what he should do next.
It was a blessing in disguise that Daveth had not undergone his Joining. For one, it'd enabled him to aid in the rescue effort that had spared himself and Cailan from a gruesome end. And for another, it meant that there was only one Grey Warden in this location, rather than two.
The darkspawn were not far behind them, now. Duncan was beginning to feel the approaching numbers at the edge of his senses. His own presence would draw them in quicker, nevermind if there were more Wardens clustered in this location.
He wondered if Amell had known about that, when he sabotaged Daveth's Joining as Duncan suspected he had.
That was not a line of questioning he'd find any answers for soon, so instead of dwelling Duncan checked his equipment. Or what was left of it; most of his armor had been removed in the apostate's effort to save his life and his blades were nowhere to be seen.
"How fairs Cailan?" Duncan asked, rising and looking over where the mages were set about their work.
"Better," Hawke said, running a tired hand over her face as she took a brief break from her spellcasting and accepted a cup of water passed to her from her mother. "I'm actually optimistic about his chances."
"If seeing him like this has you optimistic, I'm worried just how bad he was to start." said the other mage—Bethany, he believed her name was. "You should be proud of yourself, sister. Your magic saved his life, and he should wake soon. That much, I'm sure of." she said as the magic at her fingers faded.
"I just worry about what sort of state he'll be in once he finally does wake up," Carver said. "You remember Barlin's nephew? He got kicked in the head by a mule and spoke only Antivan for two months. Cailan's skull was cracked by an ogre—he could wake up Orlesian, for all we know."
"Ooh, a fate worse than death." Reveka snickered. "I'd sooner let the darkspawn kill me, personally."
"Hush—why can you take nothing seriously?" Leandra woed.
Duncan cast a sidelong glance out the nearest window. His senses were free of darkspawn for the moment, but the darkening sky heralded their imminent arrival. He prayed Cailan returned to himself sooner rather than later.
"Oh, Maker, of course the King comes to call the day I've left the knitting out!" Leandra said, all at once a flourish with nervous energy as she paced the space, putting projects to the side and straightening cushions.
"Mother, considering all His Royal Highness has been through in the last few days, I doubt he'll pitch a fit over the state of the den," Hawke said dryly.
But Leandra persisted—largely because she had nothing else to do with her nervous energy but fret endlessly. She huffed in annoyance as she grabbed a broom and began to sweep some wayward ash back into the fireplace. "You have yet to explain exactly what's going on, young lady, so please enlighten us. How'd you and Carver end up coming home with the King and… sorry, who're you two?"
"Oh, I'm nobody special. Just Daveth," the younger man said, flashing what he surely thought was a charming grin to the madam. The most reaction it earned him was an annoyed eye-roll from her son
"I am Duncan, my lady, Commander of the Grey Wardens," he said with a short bow towards the older woman who was the host of the home they stood in. He paused a moment as a somber thought whispered at the back of his mind. "Of whatever remains of them, in any case."
"We met a Warden a few days ago," Bethany offered softly, fidgeting slightly with her hands as she spoke. "Did you know him?"
A million thoughts crashed across Duncan's mind, but he stilled himself internally and sorted out the questions that made sense. It could have been Oliver, Sam, and Farrien, but why they'd stop by this one random Ferelden household was a mystery… and besides, with luck they would have crossed the border and left Ferelden by now. They may not yet have even heard of Ostagar's fate.
No, Duncan suspected who it might be, but it concerned him that he had been alone. "Just one Warden?" he asked, hoping against hope more of his people were alive.
"Well, just one Warden came here, with a woman I'm pretty sure was a Chasind apostate. He was our cousin apparently," the young woman explained.
"Huh, Warden relative of ours? Tall guy, probably a mage? Kinda… weird?" Carver asked, speaking slowly as he carefully picked his words.
"What, you met him, too?" Hawke asked, her hands on her hips. "When'd you have time for family reunions?"
"He kinda ambushed me in the army camp before the battle," Carver said. The young man shook his head and took his greatsword off his back once more, bringing a whetstone from his pocket to refine the edge. "He… was the one that told me I should watch for the plan to fail And to try and get the King and Warden Commander to safety, if I could."
Hawke ran a hand through her hair like she was considering tearing out. "Great. So we have him to thank for you charging head-first towards certain death."
"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Carver said, gesturing widely towards Duncan and the now slightly stirring Cailan. "We got out alive, and they didn't die."
"Yes. Because I dragged all your asses out of the fire," Hawke shook her head, pointing a thumb over her shoulder towards the door. "Actually, scratch that, because I don't even think we're out of the fire yet."
Daveth coughed, raising his hand. "Uh, I helped too."
"Well, goodie for you. Or would you like a medal?" Carver said flatly.
"I prefer coin," Daveth deadpanned. "Hey, you think Mr. King here will pay us for saving his life? Got to be some gold in that, yeah?"
"If we could refocus a moment," Duncan said, his voice pitched to carry over theirs before they could derail the conversation further. He did not know who the Chasind woman they spoke of might have been, but the fact that they did not speak of his other Wardens concerned him greatly. "I am familiar with the Warden you have mentioned. Edmund Amell is one of the most recent additions to our Order. He should have been with six others—are you certain they were not with him?"
"Well, no other Wardens came to our home…" Leandra answered. "But I heard some of the refugees talking about other Wardens about the village, helping people with their troubles. Apparently a few of them got into quite the fight with Loghain's men in Barlin's tavern."
Duncan held his head briefly in his hands and allowed himself a few moments to feel relief. Unless they're at the top of that tower, they die tonight. At least some of the others were alive. Perhaps Alistair was, as well. Maybe they'd all made it out somehow, just as the mage had promised.
"Where are they now?" Duncan asked. "I assume since you mentioned this happened a few days ago they are no longer in Lothering."
"Ah… no, they left town the same day they came through," Bethany said. "I don't know where they might have gone next; he never really said where they were headed. Sorry, if that's not what you were hoping to hear."
It was not.
Duncan began to pace, both to occupy his anxious energy and to try and stretch out a lingering pain in his leg. It was causing him a slight limp, which grated at his nerves. He needed to find his Wardens. To organize a force to stand against the darkspawn that would surely raze all of Ferelden if left unchallenged.
He could not compel aid on his own—Alistair had the treaties on his person, last he knew. If the documents survived they would be with them. The reasonable next step would be to seek help from the mages, elves, or dwarves. The only trouble was Duncan did not know which of those groups they might have gone to first.
"AH!"
A loud cry drew him from his thoughts. He and all the others turned to where Cailan woke with a violent start. The young kings hand flew to his belt where his blade normally hung but grasped at nothing—much like himself, much of Cailan's gear had to be discarded in the Wilds as extra weight. In a flurry of movement he tried to stand from the couch but found himself bereft of his balance. He spilled out on the ground, breathing heavy and shaking as a cold sweat dripped form his brow.
Leandra made a half-start at a rush to his side, but found herself fumbling over the protocol of how to approach or regard the monarch in this less-than-regal moment.
"Be still, Cailan," Duncan said, kneeling beside the young king as he remained on all fours staring at the floor below him. "Can you hear me? Look at me, your Majesty."
"Ha… if I commanded the room to stop spinning, do you think it would obey…?" Cailan said, imposing a jest to his words though the strain of his voice conveyed he was not at all alright.
"Alas, I do not think such a thing can be accomplished through the authority of the crown," Duncan said.
After a moment to still his breathing he rested back on his knees and looked at them all, blinking like the dim candle-lit interior was bright as the sun. When he did speak again, his voice was dry and cracked, barely raised above a whisper. "Am I… dead…?"
"This isn't the Maker's bosom, so I don't think so," Hawke said. "Sorry to disappoint, your Highness."
Bethany reached out and offered him a waterskin. Cailan accepted it slowly, taking a small drink before setting it aside.
"The battle of Ostagar… was a failure, your Majesty," Duncan said. He wished there were a more gentle way to ease Cailan into the news of what he'd woken into, but time was against them. "Loghian's men failed to respond to the signal fire in the tower. Darkspawn overwhelmed our position in the valley and decimated our forces."
"Then all is lost," Cailan said, gaze still fixed steadily at the floor. "The darkspawn will ravage the land unchecked—there is no other location where we might hold them at bay."
"All is not lost." Duncan said, mustering his determination. "So long as we breathe, there is a chance."
"I hope you are right." Cailan said. He made a movement as if to stand, but aborted it half way and remained knelt there on the ground. "Where are my advisors? And my king's guard, did any of them make it out? We must… we must take a full accounting of our losses, and regroup… Loghain will scold me for getting myself injured I'm sure… has he begun mounting a secondary defense against the darkspawn yet…?"
"He's a bit busy sitting on your fancy chair at the moment, I imagine," Hawke deadpanned. "He's so terribly broken up about what happened that he hasn't even thought to send anyone searching for you, your Grace."
Cailan's gaze snapped to her then, more focused at the implied accusation. "And who are you?"
"These good people saved your life, your Majesty. Both our lives," Duncan explained. "Without the intervention of the Hawke family we would have surely perished to the darkspawn."
"And me!" Daveth added good naturedly. "I helped. I'm a helper."
Cailan looked up at them quietly for a moment. Then, in such a way as to hide the effort it required of him, he stood and bowed his head to the men and women before him. "Then I owe you a debt I can never repay," he said, swaying to the side slightly as he righted himself. "Your courage shall not go unrewarded, friends, and I shall see to it a boon is bestowed fitting of what you have done for the crown."
"Much as I look forward to cashing in on that promise, your Kinglyness…" Reveka said, turning away from them and glancing out the window and to the approaching darkness in the sky, "We'll have to deal with that later. I think we've overstayed."
Whispers crept along the edge of his mind, curling together into the subtlest of songs. They were out of time—they had to move, and quickly.
"The darkspawn are approaching. What comes next is best discussed on the road away from this place." Duncan resolved. "Hawke, have you any extra weapons?"
Hawke shook her head, but Daveth stepped forward. He offered Duncan his own twin daggers.
"Cailan should have a blade, as well," said Bethany.
"Well unless Duncan wants to share, we're out of luck," Hawke said flatly.
"Oh go on, give him your sword. They know you're an apostate, might as well go all out," Carver said, though he seemed displeased by the words even as he spoke them. "I'll grab Declan's old staff from the cellar for you."
"It's not there anymore," Leandra said softly, "I gave it to our cousin when he came by… I couldn't imagine we'd need it, but if I'd known…"
"What?!" Carver asked, aghast at his mothers words. "You just gave it away?"
"It is fine, my lady," Cailan said slowly. He stood half-leaned against the table to keep himself upright. "I am not fighting fit, in any case, and a blade would be a waste in my hands. I shall trust my safety in your children's surely capable hands as well as the Warden Commander's."
"Alright, I want all of us on the road ten minutes ago," Hawke said, clapping her hands together and opening the front door of the home. The scent of burning drifted in on the draft.
"I've had some bags ready, just in case," Leandra said with a determined nod. "Reveka dear, help me grab a few last minute things, would you?"
Around the woman her children began moving, preparing weapons and bags and taking one last look at their family home. Cailan was still pale in the face, both from whatever suffering his lingering head-trauma was causing him and the implications of these recent revelations.
Duncan stepped out the door, watching as in the distance the blackened forms of the darkspawn made themselves visible. He was joined just moments later by the others, each with a bag over their desperation in their eyes. The darkspawn surged from the south—they would need to go north.
They turned away from Lothering as Hawke led them towards the King's Highway. But they could still hear it all, everything happening to the village behind them. Screams rose distantly over the wind, the outcrying of the villagers being slaughtered or running for their lives from the darkspawn's blades.
There was no one protecting them. Why was no one protecting them?
His racing thoughts stilled as they turned back to what Madam Leandra had said—that they'd been in an altercation with Loghain's men. "What of the Teyrn's men? You mentioned Loghain had people in this village."
"Not any longer. Any men of the fighting forces have already left. Teyrn Loghain and his men came through here some days ago, right after the battle. He took all the remaining forces with him from every local lord and went to Denerim—there's no one left to defend us." Leandra said, clutching her shawl tighter around her body and determinedly not looking back towards the blazing buildings.
"This is insane. Surely Loghain knows without the full might of our armies and the Grey Wardens we're finished. What could he even be thinking, leaving us to fall to the darkspawn?" Cailan wondered aloud. There was a bitterness to his tone, a sour note of barely restrained anger. For all he and the Teyrn differed and argued, Cailan had clearly not seen this coming to any extent. And truthfully, neither had Duncan.
"The crown, maybe? More power for himself? Maybe he's just lost it." Carver proposed. The young man shook his head and took his greatsword off his back once more, holding it ready should some threat attempt to take them by surprise.
"Are we sure it was a pre-planned betrayal?" Hawke didn't slow pace as she spoke, continuing to lead them towards the north. "I was up on the bridge—I could see what was happening in the valley below. Your people were over extended, your Majesty, and the signal to charge came in late. Even if Loghain's forces had rushed down the hill like they were supposed to, I don't know that we could have won Ostagar."
"What do you mean?" Daveth asked. His bow was off his shoulder now, an arrow resting ready on the string.
"Maybe he was just trying to salvage a losing battle. It was a shitty thing to do, but at least by pulling out when he did some of the force survived the battle instead of none at all," she reasoned.
It would have been a tactically sound decision, if it were the case. But the actions that followed Loghain's retreat did not seem to continue that tactical intent.
"If that'd been his reasoning, then why isn't he using those surviving forces to protect the people? Why march right to Denerim while the whole of southern Ferelden burns? This is exactly what we wanted to prevent at Ostagar. Whether the battle was a failure or not, surely this could have been avoided." Cailan gestured back behind them where the dark clouds encroached over the hills. "First Howe, now Loghain… it seems that treachery is deeper rooted than I'd feared."
"Loghain has already claimed Wardens killed King Cailan," Bethany said in a small voice, taking up her mages staff and turning it over in her hands like she was testing it's weight. "There were wanted posters all over town for any that might have survived Ostagar. A hefty amount of sovereigns promised as reward for the heads of any Wardens delivered to Arl Howe."
"Ah," was all Duncan said. Was that what Loghain really believed? That the Wardens had been responsible for what he assumed was Cailan's death? Or was this his old resentment of the Order motivating his use for them as his convenient scapegoats? The Hero of River Dane held no love for the Wardens, Duncan knew that sure enough. But he wouldn't have suspected it could lead to this.
And the fact that Loghain had a significant bounty out for his Wardens meant that finding any who survived Ostagar would be an even more daunting task than it already was. He trusted his people could best any bounty hunters or would-be assassins—that was not his concern. But if they were being hunted they would be surely moving more elusively to cover their tracks.
Duncan rubbed his brow tiredly. This was spiraling ever outward into an even greater mess, and they were not even out of danger yet. His senses sparked, and he looked ahead of them, drawing his dual daggers and readying himself for a fight before the darkspawn even showed themselves.
They crawled up the side of the King's Highway some ways up from them, blocking their path
"It appears we will have to fight our way through," Duncan said gravely as the others readied themselves as well.
It was easier to think when he was moving, using his blades to cut darkspawn with the ease he wished he could apply to their predicament. The problems turned over endlessly in his mind as they met the blades of their enemies
If Wardens were getting tangled with politics again, as he feared was the case, he needed to find someone who'd have their finger on the pulse of the situation. It reminded him of another promise he needed to keep, on top of everything else—hopefully he would be able to find Levi Dryden. And surely there were others among the noble houses of Ferelden who didn't buy Loghain's account—
The thought that had been itching at the back of Duncan's mind finally manifested as something concrete. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade as he cut across a genlock's neck, then dodged under a hurlock's maul and deftly disarmed it as Hawke took the opportunity to cut it down with her blade. Duncan ground his teeth, mentally kicking himself as the pieces fell into place.
Highever. The Couslands may well have been the first casualty in the Hero of River Dane's climb to power.
If Loghain had pre-planned his betrayal he would not have done so lightly. He was the foremost strategist of the age—of course he would seek to eliminate opposition before it was even raised. The Couslands were a major political powerhouse in the nation… and staunchly loyal to Cailan. Were there even a suggestion of foul play around the young king's demise they would be the first to rally their banners in the name of justice. And being the heavyweights they were in Ferelden's courts, they'd have been able to put an end to Loghain's plans before they even got off the ground.
He had no evidence of Loghain's involvement in the event, of course. But the timing of it all was too convenient to ignore. And that Loghain had put out the bounty and blame against the wardens, but Rendon was the one already overseeing the dispensing of the reward and the hunt? Howe may have been the one to sack Highever but Duncan would be surprised if Loghain's hands were completely clean of the event..
And the matter did not stop there. If Loghain had been involved with the attempted end of the Couslands… they could not assume the rest of Cailan's supporters were whole. Indeed, if Loghain had raced to the capitol to consolidate power…
Bethany's magic ruptured into a spray of ice that encased a cluster of darkspawn that were closing in behind them. The creatures were trying to box them in, using the lofted road of the King's Highway to trap them…
"We need to get off the road!" Reveka shouted. "We'll have better luck on the side paths!"
Carver swung his massive weapon to knock darkspawn to the side, giving them the clearing they needed to rush ahead and make it to the exit off the road. Those of them who were combattants clustered closer around Leandra and Cailan to protect them from harm.
They fought forward more until they could make it to the ramp down from the road. Hawke lead them onward, over the hills of uneven terrain, and around the now-barren hills that made up the territory around Lothering. The further they went, the sicker the land felt. The corruption of the Blight would likely see these fields never harvested from again, if anyone was able to return to these lands at all.
The darkspawn pursued them closely, and though they ran as fast as they could they were no closer to loosing them. Duncan suspected that on their own, the three Hawke children and Daveth would have no trouble escaping. But they would not leave their mother behind, and were forced to keep to her pace. Daveth was tied to his own pace, he suspected. Duncan was not moving at his best—he could ignore the pain in his leg but not the way it hindered his motions. And Duncan was bound to Cailan's pace, the king more sluggish than Duncan had ever seen him due to the lingering head trauma.
And true to Duncan's fears, they could not run forever. Leandra stumbled, doubled over with her hands on her knees as she gasped desperately for breath.
Bethany cried out, swinging her staff and casting her arm towards the path behind them. A wall of fire erupted to block the way. The darkspawn shrieked horribly as the flames engulfed them. The few darkspawn not caught by the flames rushed for Cailan, but Carver leapt forward with his greatsword and cut down one, his sister at his side dispatched the other.
Duncan glanced back down the path. He could see no more darkspawn, but that did not mean they were free of them. He could feel them distantly, crawling just on the edge of his detection range and headed their way. More would surely follow, but Bethany's fire on the path had bought them a little time.
"I think that's all of them," Carver said, sheathing his blade and offering an arm to his mother.
"For the moment," Bethany said with a glance back at her conjured flames.
"Maker, save us… we've lost it all," Leandra said with a choked sob, the reality of the situation only now hitting her full force. "Everything your father and I built…"
"We have to get out of here while we still can." Reveka said, eyes focused forward down the path. At her side her mabari whined loudly, and licked at Leandra's hand in an effort to comfort her.
"We should have run sooner! I can't believe we waited so long," Bethany said fretfully. "Er, no offense, your Majesty…"
"None taken," Cailan said, and it was only because Duncan knew him so well that he could see through Cailan's casual tone to how pained he was underneath.
"No matter how fast we run, they'll be right behind us." Carver huffed, wiping beads of sweat from his brow. "Will it ever stop? We've been running since Ostagar!"
It was a true enough statement; while Duncan had been unconscious for several days, Carver, Reveka and Daveth had carried his and Cailan's unconscious forms to safety. Even when it would have been easier and more expedient to leave them behind. To Duncan, that spoke volumes to the character of these young men and women.
"Well it probably doesn't help that we've been dragging a locator with us the whole way," Reveka snarked, and the side-eye cast in his direction did not leave much mystery to what she was implying. "They'll be on us like flies on shit as long as he's with us."
"Oh, don't you start with that again—" Daveth huffed, but Duncan held up a hand to cut him off. There was no defending them from the truth.
"She is right. As long as I am with you, evading the darkspawn will be difficult. They can sense me, just as I sense them," Duncan said gravely. "I will split off. If I draw their attention, the rest of you may have a chance of slipping by the larger groups unnoticed."
"No, Duncan, you can't," Daveth protested. "I didn't run to the front lines and drag your wrinkled ass out of the fire just for you to turn around and get yourself killed out in the sticks. If you're staying behind, so am I. I may not be a proper Warden yet, but stopping darkspawn's what we're meant for, right?" Daveth said, unstrapping his bow from his back and moving to stand at Duncan's side.
But Duncan pressed a hand against the archers shoulder, pressing him back a step toward the Hawke family. "Wardens are meant for stopping Blights. And in order to ensure that happens, I believe we must see to it that Cailan is safe."
Daveth frowned, picking up right away that in this case 'we' meant mostly 'him.' "No way, I'm no royal ass-wiper."
Cailan coughed—Duncan believed it was to cover up a poorly-timed laugh.
"Though Cailan is their king I cannot ask these people to prioritize him over their loved ones in the face of the darkspawn," Duncan said, looking past him to where Hawke stood beside her mother, who was doubled over in an attempt to catch her breath. "You are a Warden-Recruit, Daveth. And as your Commander I order you to see to the safety of Cailen Theirin until such a time as he can be restored to his throne."
Daveth crossed his arms, a challenge in his eye. "What if I say no?"
"A Grey Warden always accomplishes his mission. To the bitter end," was all Duncan said by way of answer.
"I won't permit this," Cailan said, shaking his head, expression grave as Duncan had ever seen it in the usually cavalier man. "Duncan, I will not have you leave my side. Must I make that an order?"
"With all my deepest and heartfelt respect, your Majesty," Duncan started evenly, "Wardens do not answer to the crown. Duty is paramount—for both of us."
"My duty is to my people, to protect and lead them through this threat. I cannot do that from the wilderness—I cannot do that if the world thinks I am dead." Cailan protested.
"Whatever Loghain's motives, we cannot assume it is safe for you to move openly, your Majesty" said Duncan. "And if Loghain does indeed mean you harm… you pose a threat to him, now. The fact that you live means that you could unravel everything he has planned. He will surely seek to silence you before your survival is made known to others."
He knew that at least some of his Wardens were alive, but not where they had headed next. He knew there were nobles who would rally behind Cailan if they knew he still lived. But he did not know if Loghain had already eliminated them, and if so even seeking them out could prove dangerous. The answers to those questions and more would likely be found in the information chains in the capital city.
"You're saying… what? That I must hide and cower while others do my fighting for me?" There was a plea in Cailan's voice now.
"You are vulnerable now, your Majesty." Duncan said. "Your best advantage now is to keep yourself secret and allow your body to recover."
It was a harsh thing for him to hear, and he winced at the words, but it was true. Though his hands held nothing they shook at his sides, he swayed slightly on his feet. Cailan at his best was a fierce warrior—but Cailan was not at his best. Much like his father, Cailan was a warrior. Being in a compromised position where he was not ably ready to defend himself—and fight for others—grated on his pride.
The clouds overhead pressed together thick and dark, a combination of overcast skies and smoke from razed land.
"Not to interrupt, but the Blight's not going to wait while we stand here debating," Reveka cut in, weight shifted to her back leg as she tapped her foot impatiently. The shrieks of darkspawn over the hills behind them underpinned her light tone with pressing severity.
"Please! Listen to her." Leandra implored.
"Indeed. We are out of time," Duncan said. He grabbed a satchel of supplies and pressed the other into Daveth's arms. "Stay with Cailan. Protect him—keep him safe. That is an order. Your Majesty, keep yourself alive. I will meet both you and my recruit in Denerim. We will set this right."
Daveth clenched his jaw but nodded as he relented. "... Yessir. And Duncan… don't die, okay? You're the first one who… who ever believed in me."
"I have no intention of dying," Duncan said. He adjusted the strap of his gauntlet, then after a moment of fussing with it removed the damaged piece from his arm entirely. "I will distract the darkspawn for as long as I am able. Then I will make for Denerim—I will try to rally King Cailan's supporters… provided not all of them have already been met with some scheme of Loghain's to take them out of play."
"Then in Denerim, I will see you again, my friend." Cailan reached out, and though he was unsteady clasped Duncan's arm in his own with strength in his grip. Duncan met him with his own steady strength, and then in an unexpected display of affection from the young ruler, Cailan pulled him closer for a brief embrace. "May the Maker watch over you, Duncan."
"May He watch over us all." said the old Warden.
"Then let's go. Lead on, sister." Carver nodded to his sibling as Daveth and Cailan rejoined their group.
"Right," Hawke said with a determined nod. She reached out to Duncan, and when he met her hand to shake he felt the touch of her magic wash over him— his physical form enchanted with renewed strength and vigor, even the sharpness of his vision more refined. A parting gift from her; a boon of magic to strengthen him for what he faced, for however long the spell would last. "Good luck, Warden. Try and save the world for us, yeah?"
And then they were gone.
Duncan watched them go with a heavy heart—he did not want to send them away from him. But much as it pained him the safest place for Cailan now was to be far from him. That he had survived that night in Ostagar was already one miracle. He didn't want to cheapen fate by asking for another.
If his own blade could buy Cailan time to escape… to buy them all time… that would be more than he'd be able to accomplish as a corpse rotting in a field.
The Hawkes crested the hill and took the path down and beyond. Bethany's wall of fire died, the darkspawn waiting beyond surged forth only to be cut down by his daggers. They weren't all there was. Not by a long shot.
Darkspawn surged over the hills. The blackened mass of their numbers ate at the land like locusts. He stood and looked back over his shoulder where the still-turning sails of the Lothering windmill burned. His blood pounded in his veins and he felt the whisper in his ears turn to a roar. Soon, they would be upon him in the strength of their numbers.
Duncan stepped forward, ignoring the pain in his leg as he readied his steel. He was worn and weary, but he was a Warden.
In war, victory.
. . . . .
Bethany came to a sudden halt. Reveka noticed immediately and slowed, looking back at her little sister and immediately scanning for any sign of injury. But she seemed fine, but for the way she threw her hands in the air in exasperation.
"Wait! Where are we going?" Bethany asked.
"Away from the darkspawn. Where else?" Carver like it should be obvious, because it was.
"And then where? We can't just wander aimlessly!" Bethany gestured desperately, as if she waved her hands in the air hard enough she could conjure a solution.
"So long as we wander aimlessly away from the horde, I'm happy." Hawke said. Away was a perfectly acceptable destination. Perhaps her favorite destination. And the sooner they got there, the better.
"We need to get to Denerim," Daveth said, gesturing to himself and Cailan.
"Tried that already, didn't we? That's why I took us on the King's Highway first—that was the route to Denerim. But clearly, that direction's already overrun. It's not an option." Reveka gestured back the way they'd come. If they wanted to try it, they were welcome to it, but no way was she dragging Mother through that deathtrap.
It was one of those things they always wondered about but feared finding the answer to—how smart were the darkspawn? Clearly smart enough to know that the major road would be used by the most refugees. And that by swarming it they could essentially pick them off like fish in a barrel.
"Safety must be our first priority. We can reroute to a second and more permanent direction once we're out of harm's way," added the Concerningly Concussed King.
"See? We're all in agreement. Now if you don't mind I'd like to get back to aimlessly-ing our way to somewhere else." Reveka said, turning back to the road and motioning for the rest of them to follow.
"We can go to Kirkwall."
Reveka stumbled to a stop, whipping around and now trying to check if mother hadn't hit her head. Alas, she was very much well, and very much serious. "Well, that wouldn't be my first choice."
"There are a lot of templars in Kirkwall, Mother…" Bethany said hesitantly.
"You could also come to Denerim with us," Cailan offered. "Once those noble houses still loyal to me are rallied and the situation with Loghain dealt with, I can see to it that your family is settled comfortably."
"You are too generous, my lord," Leandra said, curtsying to the king the way a proper noblewoman would. "But we have family in Kirkwall—and an estate. We would have a future there of our own making."
"If that is what you wish," Cailan nodded, but looked immediately like he regretted it and winced. He recovered quickly and simply smiled. "But please know my offer stands."
"I think his royal highness is forgetting about the apostate-themed-elephant in the room," Reveka said. Dazed and out of it as he was, there was no way he had missed the spells she and Bethany had been casting against the darkspawn.
"What apostates? All I see are dutiful Fereldens who have risked their lives to save my own. Whatever else could you be referring to?" He said, expression purposefully neutral.
Much as she'd like to take the monarch at his word, Reveka was aware—as he surely was—that they were instrumental in making sure he survived past this. Whether this was a genuine offer on his part or just a temporary agreement to ignore their apostasy since he needed them was yet to be seen. Everyone always said Cailan was a moral and idealistic sort of man… but you could only trust hearsay so much.
"Either way… we need to get to Gwaren and take ship." Bethany said.
"If we survive that long. I'll just be happy to get out of here." Carver huffed. He turned and walked with her as they began to lead the way forward.
She'd grown up in these lands, spent many of her childhood days chasing her siblings through the hills around the village. Seeing them now, blackened and sick, every other tree on fire… it was a hard place to walk through.
"Still can't believe Duncan stayed behind. Old man must be nutters, thinking he can stand against them by himself."
"He only means to distract them, I believe, and lead them away from us. But there are an awful lot of darkspawn out here for one person to face alone."
"I believe Duncan will find a way. Measly darkspawn are no match for the strength of a Grey Warden." Cailan said, eyes suddenly wide with something like boyish wonder.
"If that's the case, then why did none of the others at the front with you survive, my lord?" Reveka asked, perhaps more cruelly than she meant.
"No one is immune to betrayal," Daveth replied. "But no one's betraying us here. Duncan'll keep his word. At least, he better—I'm counting on the old codger."
To his credit, whatever Duncan was doing did draw the darkspawn off them. They managed to round the next three turns without incident and up the next largest hill. They passed tipped over carts and bodies by the side of the road that were mangled beyond all recognition. Clearly they weren't the only one's who'd tried to come this way, and that meant that somehow the darkspawn were ahead of them on the path.
That suspicion was confirmed almost immediately. She heard them before she saw them—and strangely those sounds of darkspawn shrieks were accompanied by the noise of combat. Someone was fighting ahead of them.
What Reveka spotted as they rounded the bend caused her to backpedal immediately. A redheaded woman stood engaged with darkspawn, but she wasn't her concern—the knight with a blazing blade on his shield was. Templar. Of all places, they had to run into a templar out here.
The templar took a heavy blow. A blade cut up his back, rending armor and spraying blood. He stumbled back, falling atop of one of the bleeding darkspawn fallen. The other hurlocks closed in around him, weapons raised to kill.
The ginger woman tackled the darkspawn off the templar and began assaulting it's face with her bare fists. "You will not have him!" She shouted. She wrenched the darkspawn's own sword from it's hand and used it to decapitate it. She scooped up the templar shield with one hand and slid the other under the wounded templar's back, holding him to her side. "They will not have you. Not while I breathe."
Darkspawn closed in around them. Reveka glanced down the other direction—the darkspawn were focused on those two. If they slid down the slope and made a break for it now, they might have a better chance of getting away. That would be the sensible thing to do.
But Reveka was never good at doing the sensible thing. She reached out and tapped her brother's shoulder, imbuing both of them with an aura of strength. Then, instead of running from the templar like any apostate should, she raised her blade and raced to their aide.
It was over quickly. Maybe they were getting good at killing darkspawn, maybe they were just getting lucky. But their blades in combination with Daveth's arrows and Bethany's spells felled the creatures.
The ginger soldier barely spared them a second glance as she turned immediately to the wounded templar, helping him settle on the ground and already ripping at her sleeves to get cloth for bandages.
"Stop squirming, Wesley. You'll make it worse," the woman said, trying in vain to hold him still.
He struggled against her tending, wrenching himself forcefully to his feet and stood before them with that righteousness that was trademark of his brethren.
"Apostate! Keep your distance," he warned, one hand reaching for his blade while the other stretched out in pointed accusation towards them.
"Ha. Well, the Maker has a sense of humor. Darkspawn, and now a templar? I thought they all abandoned Lothering." Bethany said, crossing her arms in front of herself and looking at him with just as much accusation.
"The spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown. The Order dictates…"
"Wesley," the redheaded woman said lowly, shaking her head.
"The Order dictates." He said with more strength this time and a step that carried him towards Bethany.
Reveka met him, crowding close to him and meeting his eyes with a glare that promised violence if he turned his blade to her sister. They hadn't come all this way just for a blasted templar to ruin everything. They were getting out of here, one way or another—and every moment that passed he was looking like just another obstacle that needed permanent removing.
But the righteousness in his eyes was quelled as the woman soldier reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. "Dear, they saved us. The Maker understands."
"Of course," the templar said, dropping her gaze and finally stepping back.
"We can hate each other when we're safe from the horde. This is Ser Wesley, my husband, and I am—King Cailan!" Aveline choked on her words, then sheathed her blade and saluted across her chest and dropped her head in a bow. "I am Officer Aveline Vallen, of the second company. Your Majesty, I cannot believe you are alive. When the front line crumbled I dared not even hope for your survival."
"These good people saved my life. Without them, I surely would have perished as you'd feared." Cailan said, his voice strained but posture straight. "I am glad to see not everyone from our forces at Ostagar fell—it pleases me to see you've managed to keep yourself alive in the face of these grim events. Another strong Ferelden blade in the fight can make all the difference in the world."
Aveline seemed flabbergasted, or at the very least incredibly unsure of what to do with herself in the presence of the King in such conditions. Reveka couldn't relate, but she had spent the better part of a week hauling his unconscious ass through the wilderness. The glamor had well worn off by now.
"Indeed. For a while it looked like we were the only ones to escape from the darkspawn," Reveka said. They'd yet to find any other survivors, and until now she'd doubted there were any others at all.
"We aren't free of them yet. Just like at Ostagar, this is only the start." Carver added lowly. He still kept himself positioned between Bethany and Wesley, she noticed, ready to act in case he tried anything.
"You were there? Yes, I see it now. Third company, under Captain Varel," Aveline said, nodding in acknowledgement to her brother.
"Hey, I thought I recognized you, soldier lady!" Daveth said, working his way to the front of the group with a charming smile on his face that could only spell trouble. "Glad to see your pretty head didn't end up on a darkspawn pike. Not yet, anyways, but the day is young."
Aveline stared at him blankly before her freckled features were overcome by horrible recognition and she scowled with a severity that made Reveka flinch, and it wasn't even aimed at her. But Daveth just smiled all the wider.
"Ugh. You." She groaned.
"Someone you know, darling?" Wesley asked, almost sounding like he was holding back a laugh.
"Just some lecherous buffoon from the army camp."
"You may need to be more specific," Reveka added, "There were a lot of lecherous buffons in the army camp. He's not even the most impressive of them."
"Excuse me? If I'm going to be lecherous you can bet your bloomers I'm going to at least be impressive about it. Madams, you wound me!" Daveth pouted.
"Don't tempt me." Aveline deadpanned, folding her arms in front of her chest.
Daveth tisked and shook his head, but was impressively unthreatened. "Ah, the effect I have on women. Drive 'em wild, I do."
"Careful, ladykiller, or you may get just what you're after," Reveka said with a low chuckle. A look at the lady soldier's reddening face gave her an inkling Aveline may have been restraining her tongue out of mindfulness for the presence of the King.
"We should move soon. We don't want the darkspawn to overwhelm us here like they did at Ostagar," Carver said, shaking his head tiredly at Daveth's antics.
"We fell to betrayal, not the darkspawn," Aveline said determinedly. "This arm of the horde will not have the same advantage."
"Oh, really? You two are certainly quick to offer your allegiance." Reveka said, careful eye still fixed on the wounded templar. Cailan standing with and vouching for them served to mollify these two strangers, but there was a mutual rift there no matter what.
"Another blade between us and the darkspawn? Yes, please." Carver said quickly.
"So long as the horde is their first concern." Bethany added.
"We certainly welcome your aide, Officer Vallen," King Cailan said. "We will all be stronger together than apart."
"My duty is clear," Wesley said firmly, but his brow softened as he relented. "But that… is for another day. If we are granted the opportunity."
"It's a strange time to be hunting apostates, though. His fellows all left with the Chantry priests days ago." Reveka said. "We could have used a few holy blades around here to protect the refugees still in the village."
"I regret that so many innocents have fallen. But I was not here, and know not what decisions were made that caused my brethren to leave the village. I was traveling to Denerim on business for the Order, but I had to turn south when I heard of Ostagar."
"Bad luck—and judgment—brought us together here before the attack." Aveline said with a pointed glance at her spouse.
"The nice templar has been convinced to postpone his hunt for illegal mages. So let's not dwell upon it, shall we?" Bethany said sweetly.
"Wise girl."
"The wrath of the templars is terrible, indeed." Reveka quipped.
"Moreso their wives." Wesley nudged his spouse with his elbow in playfully. "But as long as there is a greater danger, you and I have an accord."
Aveline laughed softly. "Thank you, Wesley."
Reveka stepped in closer to the templar again, all jest gone from her countenance. "Just keep away from Bethany and we won't have a problem. I'll be watching you, templar," she said lowly.
"And I you. Terms I am sure we both expected." He said, leveling her with a look that returned her intensity—and strangely, a degree of respect.
Reveka huffed, then rummaged in the bag her mother had prepared for her for some bandages and an injury kit, which she tossed to Aveline. "Here—tend to your man. We need him to keep pace if we're going to get out of here."
Aveline caught it and moved quickly to properly bandage him. Mother joined her in the effort of tending to his wounds to help speed the process.
"For now, we move with you. North is cut off. We barely escaped the main body of the horde." Aveline said once she was satisfied with her husband's care.
"Then we're trapped! The wilds are to the south, that's no way out!" Carver exclaimed.
"If the options are south or die, I'll take my chances with south." Reveka said, already moving even as she spoke. She hated this. Maker, she hated this.
They were making a large loop now, dodging and weaving between the hills to try and avoid the darkspawn crawling across them. She even felt strangely like they were being… herded. And if the darkspawn had already gotten ahead of them enough to cut off the north, how would going south make any difference in the long run? They were running out of escape routes at an uncomfortably quick clip.
The only saving grace is that through careful timing they were able to avoid a few larger groups of darkspawn altogether. They were being drawn to some other position farther away from them… maybe Duncan was making his escape and luring the darkspawn after them. Maybe the creatures had just found another batch of unsuspecting refugees to slaughter.
The few small bands of darkspawn they encountered quickly gave Aveline the chance to prove why she was an Officer—her sword arm was strong and her courage unwavering as she fought at the front of their party with Reveka and Carver. She knew when to bait the enemy back for their rear ranged fighters to make their shots, and when to rush forward and force the enemy unsteady.
They'd lost a fighter when they separated from Duncan, but gained one back when they added Aveline—though she came with a detriment as well. Instead of guarding just Mother and Concerningly Concussed Cailan through hostile territory, they had to worry about her wounded husband as well. Not an ideal situation, to say the least.
They broke through to level ground. Reveka's unease grew—they needed to cross, but they'd essentially be out in the open for anything happening by to target. But they didn't have a choice.
They'd only made it halfway across when the ground beneath their feet actually shook. Reveka reached out, catching Wesley's arm as the force caused him to stumble. Aveline raised her shield and cursed, and by the time Reveka looked back up she saw an enormous ogre charging up the hill. She and Wesley dove to the side to get clear of it's path. Reveka rolled in the dirt then sprung to her feet, weapons in hand.
The ogre roared and slammed it's fits against it's chest, turning in place as it zeroed in on a target—Mother. Cailan moved to stand in front of her, putting himself in the way to protect her, but all his bravado died as he looked up at the ogre and went deathly still.
It was the sort of fear that stopped a man at his core, that took someone back to a terrible moment and trapped them there. And Cailan was helpless in the face of it. Reveka started forward, but she was too far away, she wouldn't get there in time, and the ogre was already reaching for them—
Wesley dove across, knocking Cailan away and standing in his place.
It was again, it was happening again. Only unlike when she had seen from a distance as an ogre held Cailan aloft and threatened his life, there was no timely arrow this time, no miraculous shot in the nick of time to save a life.
She didn't even hear the roar of the ogre as it smashed the templar's body against the earth. All Reveka could hear was Aveline's scream as she charged the hulking monster. But the warrior arrived too late. The ogre discarded Wesley's limp body like a child tossed a toy they were bored of, indifferent and cruel.
Done with the templar, the ogre rounded once more on Cailan and Mother before they could manage to close in on it.
Daveth reached them first. He took in Mother, frozen in fear unable to move from where she stood behind Cailan, and the king himself, who was still as a statue. "Move, Cailan! Snap out of it!" Daveth shouted, grabbing Cailan bodily by his shoulders and shaking him. Cailan blinked once, then twice, then went ghost-pale in the face and fainted, dropping like a sack of stones in the rogue's grip.
Aveline collided with the ogre, the force of her charge forcing the monster to stumble and stagger. Reveka stood by her side and supported her, working around her and swiping in with her blade whenever she had the chance. She shifted behind the warrior as she deflected a heavy claw swipe with her shield and Reveka saw her eyes—bloodshot and welled with tears, but more than that filled with a rage that surely even a darkspawn could respect.
Reveka tapped Aveline's shoulder. The woman flinched at the contant and spared here a moment's glance before she felt the boon of the aura take her.
Reveka would not mourn the templar. But she would stand by Aveline as she avenged him.
A burst of flame erupted against the ogre's armor. Bethany launched her magic against the monster, searing it with fire and ice alike. The creature turned to her, but as it did it howled in pain—Carver's blade caught it across the leg, and he swung back to make another attack. Bethany's magic wounded the ogre with elemental spells, but that only seemed to make it more angry, and Carver's blade only accomplished marginally more.
"Daveth, a little help!" Reveka cried, exerting her mana capacity to it's limit and casting an aura of haste upon herself to quicken her speed lest the meaty claws of the ogre grab hold of her person.
Daveth had made a shot through an ogre's eye, in the dark, in the rain, in the middle of a deteriorating battle. Surely he'd be able to accomplish the same thing again in broad daylight.
"I have my hands full, thank you very much!" he shouted back. Reveka risked a glance back, he had the King's unconscious form slung over his shoulder and was rushing Mother and Cailan clear from the combat zone. Shart was with them as well, standing between the non-combatants and the ogre with his hackles raised and ready to intercept should the ogre threaten any closer to them.
So much for his help with the ogre. It was up to them.
"Bethany, Carver, we're going ice skating!" Reveka shouted.
"Ugh, I hate your stupid team attack names!" Carver groaned.
"Just do it!" Bethany said exasperatedly, already conjuring her spell.
"What?!" Daveth shouted, barely dragging Mother and Cailan out of the way as the ogre tilted towards them in a sideways charge.
But for all the rogue's confusion, her siblings needed no further explanation. Bethany summoned her magic, forming a large solid sheet of ice beneath the ogre's feet where it stood. Carver and Reveka ran forward together, and when they hit the ice they grabbed one another with one arm and Reveka spun, launching him forward as he started to spin with the weight of his weapon.
Carver's blade collided with the ogre's leg, and that combined with the slick surface of the ice sent the monstrous giant ass-over teakettle. Carver spilled also over as he lost his balance, completely wiping out and drawing a laugh from Reveka born both from the revelment of the battle and that innate pleasure all siblings got when witnessing their fellow offspring suffer some humiliation.
Reveka let her momentum in the ice carry her forward. As she drew near it struggled to right itself, still slipping and sliding on the ice. Without losing her momentum she ripped at the gravity around her, launching her body impossibly upwards, and as the force naturally restored itself and sent her plummeting downward she plunged her blade into the ogre's skull.
It tilted forwards, then backwards, then forwards, then back once more before the now still body collapsed under it's own weight. Reveka hopped off it's form as it fell, only barely managing to keep her balance as she landed on the magically conjured ice.
"Bloody show-off." Carver spat as he finally regained his feet, but for all his petulance he mostly seemed relieved.
"That… was ridiculous. I can't believe that worked." Daveth said with a low whistle.
"I know, right? That's what makes it so cool," Reveka laughed, wiping sweat from her brow.
"Yeah, for you. Why is it you always get to make the cool kill shot and I wind up with my ass on the ground?" Carver whined.
"It's not her fault you lost your balance," Reveka said pointedly. "Big weapon like that, you were bound to go spinning out."
"Um," Bethany interrupted, though her voice was soft. Reveka glanced at her sister and caught her shifting eye towards Aveline. "Now may not be the time."
The ginger woman was knelt silently by her husband's unmoving form, the last word she'd uttered was the scream of Wesley's name as he'd been broken against the earth. Her blade was stuck partway into the dirt and shield cast aside on the ground. Reveka moved to her side and reached out to rest a hand on her shoulder, but hesitated and withdrew as she saw the small but violent tremors wracking her body.
"I know your pain, Aveline. Losing a love is… there is nothing that can describe it," Mother said, the first to speak in the soldier's moment of silent mourning. "For all we have just met… it is clear your husband loved you. More than anything."
Not just that. The templar had loved her more than his duty. He said he'd been on a mission for the Order when he heard about Ostagar and turned around—turned back to find his wife. That wasn't the behavior she typically associated with a devoted templar, but certainly a choice inline with that of a devoted spouse.
"We… we shouldn't stay here," Bethany said softly. "I'm sure Wesley wouldn't want his sacrifice to be meaningless."
"And it will be if the darkspawn catch us unawares," Carver added lowly.
Aveline hung her head, then reached out and grabbed her weapons and stood to face them all with the most heartbroken of smiles. "Wise girl," she said again, with a small nod to Bethany.
"For a moment I was so scared I'd lose one of you, like we lost Declan and your father." Mother said after a moment and with no small amount of relief, reaching out and holding the twins as they approached as well, holding both of her youngest children in a tight embrace for a moment.
"We're all alive, and we're getting out of here together," Bethany said into her mother's hair.
"Have some faith in us, Mother," Carver said, pulling away after a moment. "We can do this."
"We're not out of danger yet," Reveka said. "How's Cailan?"
"I think that ogre might have scared the soul out of him. I can't get him to wake up," Daveth said with a frown, slapping the kings face in a rather undignified manner in an effort to rouse him. Cailan's eyes did blink open blearily after a moment, loosely swatting Daveth away from him. "Ah, here he is."
"Am I dead?" He asked, the second time that day those words had passed his lips.
"Not yet, but depending on how the day goes that could change." Reveka said dryly, very carefully positioning herself so her body blocked the Conceringly Concussed King's line of sight to where Wesley's corpse lay not far behind them.
"I'm sure you need to rest, Your Highness, but we must press on." Aveline seemed to have collected herself—or at least managed to bury her pain enough to focus herself entirely on the crisis at hand. She seemed the type to distract herself with duty. She bent and offered Cailan a hand to help him to his feet. She lead the way partway across the clearing before she swore loudly and again held her weapons ready. "Flames! We're too late!"
Darkspawn started pouring into the clearing from every direction. Reveka swore under her breath, redrawing her blade as her siblings moved to stand at her sides ready for combat.
There was nothing but a rush. For every darkspawn she cut down, two more took it's place. Bethany's magic helped control the field of battle but there was no way she could cast forever—and Reveka was running out of mana to the point she could only sustain an aura for a few heartbeats at a time.
"They just keep coming!" Daveth shouted, already almost out of arrows as he loosed another from the bowstring.
They did. There was no way they could fight them all, not when they were so endless. Maker… there were so many…
A mighty roar shook the sky, and a high dragon swooped down out of nowhere in a flurry of fire and fangs.
They stood backed against the base of the cliff, only able to watch as the dragon's claws tore through the darkspawn like paper. The first blast of fire melted what remained of Bethany's magically conjured ice-sheet, covering the field in a mixture of smoke and mist. It bellowed, spewing another gout of flames across the clearing, swinging it's great tail behind it like a whip that lashed with deadly force.
Huh. Well, if this was how they died, at least dying in dragonfire was a more epic way to go than being cornered and butchered by darkspawn.
The high dragon roared once more and raised back on it's hind legs, wings stretched wide with a darkspawn struggling limply in it's clawed grasp. And all at once it's body blazed bright as the sun, pulsing with golden light so intensely Reveka raised a hand over her eyes and looked away.
When she looked back she was forced to wonder if maybe she hadn't hit her head somewhere along their fight, and was now seeing things that couldn't possibly be there. Light melted and flaked from the form before them—and standing before them, surrounded by flames and the smoldering bodies of the tainted creatures, was a woman.
And that woman continued to drag the still-burning corpse of a hurlock behind her as she approached them.
"Well, well, well… what have we here?" Her weathered voice filled with ample humor as she brought her free hand to rest against her hip. "It used to be we never got visitors to the Wilds, but now it seems they arrive in hordes!"
Huh. That was… one of the weirdest things Reveka had ever seen. She wasn't sure if was more intrigued or alarmed—or just suddenly jealous of this mystery woman's awesome outfit. Was that her hair? How did she get it to stay up like that?
"Impressive," Reveka said, brow raised and blade still held ready. "Where'd you learn how to turn into a dragon?"
"Perhaps I am a dragon. If so, count yourselves lucky. The smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite." She dropped the darkspawn body she dragged, the limp form still smoldering at her feet as she stepped over it and turned away from them. "If you wish to flee the darkspawn, you should know you are heading in the wrong direction."
"So you're just going to leave us here?" Carver said indignantly, taking a step after her as the mystery woman moved to leave them.
She stopped completely still. She turned only her head, then slowly the rest of her followed, her steps carrying her towards them with the cadence of a hunting predator. "And why not? I spotted a most curious sight: a might ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat? But not my curiosity is sated, and you are safe… for the moment. Is that not enough?"
"You could show me that trick of yours," Reveka said, and she wasn't even joking. Now that she'd seen such a thing was possible, she really wanted to be a dragon. "That looks useful."
The woman laughed. "I daresay it is! If only a clever tongue was all one needed! Tell me, clever child: how do you intend to outrun the Blight?"
"We need to get to Kirkwall—in the Free Marches." Bethany said.
The dragon lady eyed Bethany carefully. The shift in her expressions was so microscopic and elusive Reveka couldn't be sure, but she seemed to frown, then glance between the twins that flanked her once more and smile. Her eyes swept quickly over their number once more and then she smiled in earnest—which was predatory in a way that only made Reveka wonder more if she wasn't really actually a dragon.
"Kirkwall? My, but that is quite the voyage you plan. A veritable flock takes flight…" She mused. "And the King of Ferelden has no protest to his people fleeing his lands?" Her golden eyes were zeroed in on Cailan.
"Would you have them stay and be slaughtered?" Cailan folded his arms defensively in front of himself, not even questioning how this strange woman seemed to know immediately who he was. "A king's duty is first and foremost to see to the safety of his people."
"Ah, but a king who does his duty is a rare a thing as any miracle. And another Theirin survives… my, to think I need not have yielded!" She said, smile now more like a sneer. She gestured widely with her hands, like she was addressing some invisible crowd gathered around them. "Ah, but will you be a boon, or yet another regret? And to whom? These are the questions, are they not?"
"I… you… what?" Cailan blinked slowly, any color he might have regained once again drained from his face. "Wait, another…?"
"Oh, pay no mind to this old woman's ramblings. Either your survival will change everything, or the death that dogs you will catch you by your heels. Do be careful not to stumble, lad."
"If he's survived this many near-death experiences, I think he's earned a shot to live," Reveka deadpanned. "At this point if he dies, it should be the way all politicians die—poison in fancy wine, or strangled by a disgruntled lover."
Flemeth laughed again, this one belly deep and rolling. "Oh, you I like!" She became serious almost immediately, something far away in her golden eyes as she seemed to stare straight through her. "Hurtled into the chaos, you fight, and the world will shake before you. Oh, more than shake… clever child, the things you will break… is it fate, or chance? I can never decide. But it appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you, yet."
"There must be a catch." Reveka said carefully.
"Ha! There is always a catch," she barked, a feral cant to her words. "Life is a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can!"
"Maybe we shouldn't trust her. We don't even know what she is." Bethany said hesitantly.
"I do," Daveth said, and for the first time since she'd known the man he sounded genuinely afraid. "You're the Ashy-belly."
"You know her?" Reveka asked the rogue over her shoulder.
"Nutty old bat who collects moldy parchments," Daveth deadpanned, but there was none of his usual levity about him. "Where was this outfit last time we met? Woulda' made a whole different impression, I can tell ya that much."
"This old thing?" She mused idly, turning over her wrist and inspecting her clawed gauntlets. "I only bring this out for very special occasions. And you… you were not with your fellow Wardens. I can only assume you are no longer one of them?"
Though the question was phrased in all innocents, Daveth's reaction was immediate and filled with enough venom to give Reveka an idea that this woman had hit some hidden barb.
"I'm a Warden. I will be a Warden. We just got busy, see. We weren't able to get to it."
"Hm," She said, and did not sound convinced. "You could never be a Warden. No matter who meddles."
Daveth clenched his hands into fists and straightened his spine. "Won't stop me from tryin. No one asked you for your opinion, Ashy-belly, and I aim to prove you wrong."
"Then, with all sincerity: good luck." She said with a smile that was entirely patronizing.
"Can you explain that one to me? Ashy-belly?" Reveka asked, blinking in confusion at what she could only assume was supposed to be a nickname or insult. If so, she wanted in on the joke.
"He's butchering one of her titles. She's The Witch of the Wilds." Aveline said darkly, hand tightening on her blade.
"Some call me that. Also Flemeth. Asha'bellanar. An 'old hag who talks too much.'And Ashy-belly, apparently. Does it matter?" She said with a casual shrug. "I offer you this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a 'Witch of the Wilds?'"
"What is a Witch of the Wilds, exactly?" Reveka asked.
"A chasind legend. Witches that steal children," Aveline answered.
Flemeth waved a dismissive hand. "Bah! As if I had nothing better to do!"
"Then you're an apostate." Reveka surmised. She wasn't a dragon that was suddenly a person. She was a person, a mage, powerful enough to be a dragon. That was cool as hell.
"Yes, we have so much in common." Flemeth's eyes glittered.
"I'm sure the rest of you have opinions about this," Reveka half turned back to the group. It wouldn't be just her own life entrusted to this witch—they had the bloody king with them.
"Cailan is in weak condition. We'll never escape the darkspawn without help." Aveline said simply.
"I will endeavor not to be a burden—we will find a way, if we must." Cailan said, and made a noble attempt to stand upright on his own but found himself quickly relying on Daveth again for aid. Yeah, no.
"We need help. No way around that." Carver said, determination to survive out weighting any other misgivings he surely had. "I'm not sure how many more ogre fights or endless horde's we'd be able to get through on our own."
He had a point. "Hm. Then how much trouble will this delivery be, exactly?" Reveka asked.
Flemeth cocked her head to the side. "About as much trouble as my saving your lives five minutes ago."
"Good point."
"If you knew my daughter, you'd know how seldom I hear that," she mused with a short sigh.
That was curious, but not really relevant or important. Something about this wasn't adding up—it was too… easy. "Seriously though, you would go through all this trouble to have something delivered? I imagine if you have wings of your own, it'd be far simpler and quicker to take care of yourself," she asked.
"I have… an appointment to keep," Flemeth glanced up and passed them, smiling in a way that almost seemed fond. Or maybe excited? "It is far more convenient this way. Happily, you are not without your own need."
"I guess we're not really in a position to refuse any aid, regardless of what you ask. But we do have to reach Kirkwall first. Or it's all for nothing—on both our ends." Reveka nodded and extended her hand, expecting Flemeth to shake on the deal.
"Ah, but you will do it." Flemeth drew close, and instead of shaking her hand the witch reached out and pressed something into her palm—a necklace. "There is a clan of Dalish elves near the city of Kirkwall. Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full.
Reveka blinked down at the jewelry she now held. A delicate chain held a pendant with a golden frame embossed with the distinctive shape of dragons chasing on another around a black jewel in the center. When the light caught it just right the deep cracks on the surface of the gem formed the shape of a dead tree.
This is it? This is what bought them their escape? Reveka shrugged and stowed the amulet in her bag. If it got them to safety, she'd do much worse than play delivery girl.
They followed Flemeth only a few steps before Aveline stopped again. Reveka caught her eye and moved to her side, only distantly aware of Flemeth watching and following as well.
Aveline stood by where Wesley's body was… or had been. After the rain of dragonfire on the field, all that was left was the melten remains of his armor. The ghost of sorrow lingered on the officer's face before Flemeth turned away again, speaking lowly and strangely not to any of them as she led them onward.
"Without an end, there can be no peace. It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun."