Dragon Age: The Ferelden Chronicles (16)

Chapter Sixteen


Varia winced as she lowered herself onto a rock at the side of the road, each and every muscle in her body feeling as though it was on fire. She set her pack in her lap and began digging through its contents, looking for the strongest health potion she had on hand. While she knew it wouldn't be a permanent solution, it would likely provide her some comfort for the rest of their journey to the town Morrigan was leading them to – Lothering, she said it was called.

“Here.”

Varia looked up from her pack and found Morrigan standing before her, holding out some sort of wooden stem covered in thin, sharp leaves. It almost looked like a twig from a fir tree, but when she felt the leaves they were softer and more pliable.

“Well? Take it. You are in pain, yes?” Morrigan asked, holding the stem out closer to Varia.

“Maybe she's worried you're trying to poison her,” Alistair remarked, snatching the strange plant away from the witch.

“While I know of many poisons which grow in the Wilds, I assure you that this is not one of them.”

“And we're to simply take you at your word?” Alistair asked her with a short laugh. “What, exactly, have you done to prove your trustworthiness to us?”

“Believe me,” Morrigan told him with a wicked grin, “if I wanted the two of you dead, you would already be dead.”

“I find it very hard to believe you're giving this to her purely out of the goodness of your heart,” Alistair insisted. “What's the real reason?”

“And I find it rather offensive that the first words out of your mouth since we left are an accusation of attempted murder,” Morrigan retorted. “If you must know, however, one of the reasons Mother sent me along with you was to continue tending to your injuries. Neither of you are exactly in top form, after all.”

“How badly were you hurt?” Varia asked Alistair, taking the opportunity to step into the conversation before it started coming to physical blows between them.

“I'm fine,” Alistair insisted. “Morrigan's exaggerating.”

“And you are lying to her,” she asserted, then turned to Varia. “'Twas a close call for both of you. While the poison in your veins was more dire than the sum of his injuries, I daresay the better part of his body is still covered in bruises.”

“Is that true, Alistair?”

Varia continued to watch him until he finally looked her way, but he quickly turned his gaze from hers and sighed, flinching almost imperceptibly as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Stop worrying about me,” he muttered, having seen the concern in her eyes. “I've taken worse beatings.”

“Maybe we should have waited a bit longer before setting out,” Varia mused, sighing before returning to the search through her belongings.

“Do not be ridiculous,” Morrigan sneered. “You are not aware, but you were unconscious for two days.”

“I... was?” Varia asked, blinking at her in shock. While she had informed her earlier how sick she was from the darkspawn poison, Morrigan hadn't made any indication that she had been out of sorts for any real length of time – nor had Alistair or Flemeth.

“Don't look at me,” Alistair said, throwing up his hands when she turned to him for verification. “I only woke up in the night before you. I had merely assumed it was still the day of the battle.”

“Well, your assumption 'twas wrong,” Morrigan told him before returning her attention to her fellow mage. “So, as you might imagine, the darkspawn horde has been gaining both strength and territory in that time. It will only be a matter of another day or two before Lothering is completely overtaken, I have no doubt.”

“Which is why we can't afford to rest any longer than absolutely necessary, I get it,” Varia reluctantly agreed, finally locating the single potion of greater healing she'd packed with her belongings when she left the tower. She removed the stopper and drank a couple of swallows from the vial, then held it out toward Alistair.

“Here,” she offered. “You could probably use the rest of this. It'll help speed up the healing of your injuries.”

Alistair took the potion from her with a nod and drank down the last of it, then passed the empty vessel back to her. She placed the stopper back in place before setting it in her bag once more, then stood and rolled her injured shoulder to test it. The pain was bearable, and her muscles no longer felt quite as sore as they had. It would do.

“So I take it you are not going to be using that herb I so kindly provided for you?” Morrigan asked, her voice full of indignation.

“I appreciate the offer, Morrigan,” Varia told her, “but poison or not, I still don't know the full properties of that herb. Alistair and I need to be alert at all times, in case we run into any darkspawn which have strayed from the bulk of the horde.”

“Which we won't be if that poison plant of yours makes us drowsy,” Alistair concluded.

“'Tis not poison,” Morrigan insisted once more through clenched teeth, but the Wardens ignored her and instead continued walking along the well-worn road in the direction they had previously been traveling.

The three of them traveled in silence for a long time, and with each step she took Varia kept mulling over some of the things Morrigan had said about Alistair. He had been badly injured during their fights at the Tower of Ishal, but she hadn't picked up on it until it was pointed out to her because he'd been hiding his pain – rather effectively, too. Perhaps he was hiding more than just physical pain, though.

“Morrigan's right,” she said as they continued walking side-by-side, keeping her voice quiet enough that the woman behind them wouldn't be able to listen in on their conversation. “You've been pretty quiet since we set out of the Wilds.”

“I've just been... thinking, I guess,” he answered, his eyes glued to the ground.

“About what?”

“Everything that's been going on,” he told her. “I still can't believe... Of all the people I would have expected to desert the battle like that, Loghain was the last one I would have picked.”

“I admit, I was rather shocked when it happened. But the more I think about it, the less surprising it seems,” she admitted to him.

“Really?” he asked, finally turning his head to look at her.

“You weren't there during that meeting between him and King Cailan. Things were... tense between them,” she informed him. “And earlier in the day, when I first ran into Loghain, he seemed rather displeased with the entire situation.”

“How so?” Alistair wondered.

“He certainly didn't have faith in Cailan's abilities to lead his people effectively.”

“Well, that's not really surprising,” Alistair told her with a bit of a chuckle. “The king was a good man, but he wasn't the brightest when it came to military strategy. He was all about the glory of battle, which was why Loghain was left to deal with the tactical side of it.”

“I got that impression about him,” Varia stated, smiling fondly at the memory of how Cailan's face had lit up each time he spoke of riding into battle with the Grey Wardens at his side. Then she remembered Loghain's reaction to that enthusiasm during the discussion of the battle plans and winced.

“I also got the impression that Loghain did not share his sentiments concerning the greatness of the Wardens,” she informed Alistair.

“That's no real surprise, either,” Alistair remarked, letting out a weary sigh. “Did you know that Cailan's father was the one who brought the Grey Wardens back to Ferelden? They'd been exiled from the nation for centuries prior to that.”

“I've read all about the history of the Wardens,” Varia told him, nodding.

“Well, what the history books won't tell you is that Loghain was vehemently against the Wardens returning,” he informed her. “The majority of the ones who came to King Maric seeking his assistance with a certain matter of importance were Orlesian, after all – and I'm sure you're aware of what a sore spot Orlais is to the Teryn.”

“How do you know all of this?” she wondered.

“Duncan told me.” He flashed her a grin, which soon faded. He turned his attention back ahead of them, and the previous silence fell over them once again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Varia asked him after a moment.

“About what?”

“Duncan.”

Alistair sighed heavily and shook his head. “You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him as long or as well as I did.”

“It seems he was like a father to you,” she said. “And that is a sentiment I understand completely. I just thought... Maybe it would make you feel better to talk to someone.”

He remained silent for several steps, then let out another sigh.

“I suppose I should be handling this better. Duncan warned me right from the beginning that any one of us could die in battle.”

“That doesn't mean you're not allowed to grieve, Alistair,” she told him, reaching over and gently running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck in an attempt to offer him some sort of comfort. He turned to look at her and she gave him a sympathetic smile when their eyes met.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I--”

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sound of a dog barking. The noise grew louder and the two of them turned to find a mabari hound bounding down the road toward them. Not far behind the hound, however, were about half a dozen darkspawn, led by one dressed in full armor and carrying a sword which had probably once belonged to of one of the soldiers in the King's Army.

“See? This is why we didn't want your bloody poison plant,” Alistair called back to Morrigan a scant second before charging toward the group of darkspawn with the Mabari at his side.

Varia was surprised – but also relieved – when Morrigan held her tongue. Instead, the witch lent her skills in ice spells to their battle. While Alistair and the mabari fought against half of the darkspawn in a clanging of blades and teeth against armor and shields, Morrigan froze the others and Varia used stonefist and lightning spells to finish them off. One managed to break out of its cocoon of ice, though, and Morrigan hit it with a curse which caused it to run in fear – straight toward them. Without a second thought, Varia stepped in front of the other woman and held up her hands before her, sending out a steady stream of fire which sent the creature staggering backwards several steps before falling to the ground with a final groan.

Despite both her and Alistair being injured, the fight ended rather quickly. The mabari then trotted up to Varia and sat before her, looking up at her with an expression which could only be described as a smile. She tilted her head quizzically at the animal, wondering why it was looking at her in such a manner, and Alistair chuckled at the look of pure confusion on her face as he came back up the road in the hound's wake.

“I think he was out there looking for you,” he said, kneeling next to the animal and petting the top of his head.

“Why would he be looking for me?”

The hound's happy expression fell at her question and he bowed low to the ground and whined pitifully as he looked up at her with sad eyes.

“Wait...” Varia mused, bending down toward the mabari to get a better look at him. It was hard to tell, since it had been dark the last time she saw him and she wasn't very good at telling one dog from another, but she was almost positive she recognized him. “I think this is the mabari I helped back at the camp in Ostagar.”

“Looks like he's chosen you,” Alistair commented with a smile when the animal perked up after she remembered him. “Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting.”

Morrigan made a disgusted noise as she joined them. “Please tell me we are not taking that mangy beast with us.”

“He's not mangy,” Alistair immediately leapt to the animal's defense, scratching the him behind his ears. “He's a good boy!”

“Who said I was speaking about the dog?” Morrigan muttered under her breath. Varia sent a glare back over her shoulder at the other woman before returning her attention to the hound and patting him on top of his head.

“I suppose he did manage to fight his way through the darkspawn to find us,” she remarked. “Which means he must be very brave and strong.” The dog let out an appreciative bark at her compliments, his tail wagging, and she looked at Alistair. He nodded in encouragement, his expression like that of a child who had brought home a puppy with the hope that their mother might allow them to keep it as a pet.

“Very well,” she agreed, unable to keep herself from smiling. “You may come along with us, ser dog.”

Both Alistair and the mabari let out a triumphant bark of noise, causing Morrigan to roll her eyes and continue on her way down the path alone. Varia watched after her quietly for a moment, still scratching the dog behind his ears, then stood and walked briskly to catch up to her. The dog immediately followed in her wake, leaving poor Alistair all alone, crouching in the middle of the dirt pathway. He called after them as he pulled himself to his feet, and grumbled a bit when none of them bothered to slow down to wait for him to catch up.

“May I ask you something, Morrigan?” Varia asked once she had finally caught up to the older woman.

“You may,” Morrigan stated with a single nod of her head. “I may even choose to answer.”

“Could you tell me some more about this village you’re taking us to?” Varia wondered, hoping that maybe making small talk with her would help cool her temper and avoid any further confrontations between her and Alistair.

“‘Tis a small place of little consequence,” Morrigan replied without looking at her. “No more than a stop along your Imperial Highway where travelers purchase goods from local farms and smiths. I would go more often were it not for the town’s chantry. It makes the village particularly intolerant and unpleasant for a stranger such as me.”

“A chantry?” Alistair piped up, having caught up with the women once more. “And they never, in all this time, thought that maybe you were a witch?”

“Of course they have.” Morrigan looked at him briefly over her shoulder, smirking, then returned her attention to the road ahead. “They even called out their templars once. They found nothing.”

“So if this town is of little consequence and it’s especially dangerous for both you and I to go there, as mages,” Varia broke in before Alistair could harass their guide further, “then why bother to go there at all?”

“I imagine you will be needing supplies for this journey, yes?” Morrigan said, though the question was completely rhetorical. “There is not another town for miles, so ‘tis the only place you will be able to procure whatever items you might need. I also mention it for its tavern. Travelers often gather there and share news from other places. Perhaps the two of you shall find some answers as to why a man the king trusted with his life left him to die on the battlefield.”

“And what if someone recognizes you for what you are?” Alistair spoke up once more, moving swiftly around them to block their way. Morrigan, thoroughly annoyed, looked up at him with narrowed amber eyes before stepping around him.

“While I am touched by your concern, I assure you that I am quite capable of taking care of myself. If I were you, I would be more concerned with your waifish companion.”

“She’s a Warden now,” Alistair reminded her as he and Varia began following her once more. “She is no longer under the control of Chantry law.”

“I would not be so confident in that assumption, if I were you,” Morrigan stated. Alistair opened his mouth to ask her what she meant by the comment, but she began speaking once more before he could voice his concerns.

“I assure you, the town and the tavern in it are both small enough that our appearance might go unnoticed--”

“Might?” Alistair interrupted.

“--not to mention that the residents will be rushing around, attempting to flee the darkspawn.”

“She has a point, Alistair,” Varia said, laying a comforting hand upon his arm. “Everyone will be too busy running for their lives to worry about persecuting a couple of mages.”

“You honestly believe that?” he asked her in response, turning his worried gaze upon her. Varia sighed a bit and looked away from him. He also had a point. Her own experience with the templars at Kinloch Hold had shown her that many of them would stop at nothing to see a mage suffer. She simply had to hope that Morrigan would be right, in this case.

“Just how are we going to get past the darkspawn, ourselves, though?” Varia asked, posing the question to both of them.

“I believe the question is how we are going to get your friend here past them, is it not?” Morrigan corrected her, looking back at Alistair. Varia also turned to look at him, wondering if she was missing some particularly important point which the two of them were already privy to.

“That’s true,” Alistair admitted. “We can sense the darkspawn. Conversely, they can sense us.”

“I don’t sense any now, though,” Varia told him. She had easily sensed the ones back at the tower during the battle, but now she couldn’t feel anything.

“I can.” Alistair nodded a bit and sighed. “It... takes a while for the ability to sense them to get to the point where you can feel them from a great distance. Eventually, you’ll be able to feel them from farther and farther away.”

“What does that mean, then?”

“We should be able to sneak past the smaller groups, but larger ones or particularly intelligent darkspawn will always detect us – even you.”

“Which is why Mother has given me something else for them to ‘smell’ instead as we pass by,” Morrigan explained. “‘Tis still important we head out of the Wilds, however, not further in.”

“You’re saying the darkspawn are camped further in the forest?”

Alistair nodded, but Morrigan once more began speaking before he could answer Varia’s question.

“They come from underground, like an eruption. They broke through deep in the forest and that is where they will be most concentrated.”

“How do you know all of this about the darkspawn, anyway?” Alistair asked her, his tone full of suspicion.

“I am not some uneducated, backwoods mongrel,” Morrigan replied. “Unlike certain other people.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Alistair demanded, and Varia had to place a hand upon his chest to keep him from cutting the woman down.

“I have studied history and your Grey Warden treaties, among other things.”

“Can you cook?”

Morrigan stopped walking and turned around at Alistair’s flippant question, crossing her arms across her chest as she narrowed her eyes at him, her mouth set in a frown.

“I... can cook, yes.”

“Then you can substitute for Alistair,” Varia interjected, once more finding herself attempting to diffuse the tension between them before it broke out into a full-blown, mage versus templar brawl. She gave Alistair a look, silently begging him to behave, and he closed his eyes and sighed heavily before returning his attention to Morrigan.

“Right,” he agreed with a fair amount of forced joviality. “My cooking will kill us. That’s all I meant.”

“I would like to point out once more that I also know at least fifteen different poisons that grow right here in this marsh,” Morrigan continued, still glaring at Alistair. “Not that I would suggest ‘tis at all related to cooking.”

“See?” Alistair exclaimed, pointing at her and looking to Varia. “She is trying to kill us!”

Varia sighed and looked about, desperately trying to find something to change the topic of conversation before Morrigan burned his hair off. Thankfully, she saw a bridge not too far off in the distance and, beyond that, what could only be the town which Morrigan had been leading them toward.

“Look, we’re almost there!” she told them, pointing in the direction of the bridge. They continued to stare each other down for a moment longer before Morrigan finally turned away in a huff and began marching toward the bridge.

“I could have handled that, you know,” Alistair whispered to Varia as they followed her, his eyes still warily watching the witch’s every move.

“We don’t have time to be fighting, Alistair,” she reminded him, shaking her head. “The sun is already setting.”

“Why are you suddenly all... buddy-buddy with her now, anyway?” he asked in return, finally turning to look at her.

“I still don’t trust her,” Varia admitted with a slight shake of her head, her grey eyes fixed on Morrigan’s back. “But the First Enchanter once told me that the best way to keep an eye on your enemies is to keep them close at hand.”

“That doesn’t always work, though,” Alistair told her with a scoff. “Loghain was practically Cailan’s right hand and look what happened there.”

“True,” Varia conceded. “Cailan didn’t know Loghain would betray him, though. Anyhow, with Morrigan... I guess since she’s a mage, and I’m a mage... I don’t know. I suppose a part of me wants to be able to give her the benefit of the doubt. Then again, my own best friend turned out to be a blood mage and I had trusted him, too.”

“Don’t worry,” Alistair assured her. “No matter what happens, I’ve got your back.”

“Thanks.”

She turned to him to find a strange look upon his face and, without even asking what was wrong, she knew that he was still in pain. Not the physical sort of pain, though. He’d wanted to be there in the battle with Duncan, fighting at the Warden-Commander’s side, and he’d been denied that opportunity. Duncan had perished in the battle, along with the rest of the Wardens aside from them, and Varia could only imagine the questions going through Alistair’s mind.

“Alistair?” she quietly called his name, not wanting to draw Morrigan’s attention toward them. She waited until his eyes finally met hers and opened her mouth to once again voice her concern for him, but was cut off by Morrigan calling to them from farther up the road.

“We have arrived,” the witch informed them, and both of the Wardens went to stand next to her on the stone bridge in order to take in the view of the town just downhill from where they were.

It was a small village, with about a half-dozen simple houses scattered about. Varia could see the chantry reaching up above the rest of the buildings, and in the distance there appeared to be several plots of farmland. What stood out to her most, however, were the vast number of people camped around outside the village proper in makeshift shelters of run-down merchant carts and tents created from scraps of fabric sewn together.

“Wake up, gentlemen! More travelers to attend to. Led by an elf, of all things.”

The three of them turned to find a man with dark skin and coal-black hair walking toward them with a smirk on his face. In his wake followed four others, all of them wearing the same sort of well-worn leather armor as their leader. She briefly wondered why the man considered her to be the leader of the group, when Alistair was not two feet away.

“Highwaymen,” her fellow Warden quietly warned her as he stepped up right behind her. “Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I suppose.”

“Err... They don’t look much like them others, you know. Uhh... Maybe we ought to just let these ones pass,” one of the bandit’s companions stated in a slow, drawling voice.

“Nonsense!” the leader replied before turning back to them with his grin still in place. “Greetings, travelers!”

“They are fools to get in our way,” Morrigan stated as she came up on Varia’s other side and crossed her arms over her chest. “I say we teach them a lesson.”

“Now is that any way to greet someone?” the bandit leader asked, tsking her. “A simple ten silvers and you’re free to move on.”

“You should listen to your friend,” Varia told him, hoping to reason with the lot of them rather than get into a confrontation which might draw unwanted attention their way. “We’re not refugees.”

“What did I tell you? No wagons, and this one looks armed,” the slow bandit remarked, gesturing toward Alistair.

“The toll applies to everyone, Hanric,” the leader reminded him. “That’s why it’s a toll and not, say, a refugee tax.”

“Oh, right.” Hanric said, grinning widely as he nodded in understanding before turning back toward Varia and her companions. “Even if you’re not a refugee, you still gotta pay.”

Varia sighed and put a hand to her temple, shaking her head a bit. It was becoming quite clear that they weren’t going to get into town peacefully.

“Forget it. I’m not going to pay you.”

“Well I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that,” the leader replied to her refusal to comply, brandishing one of his daggers. “We have rules, you know.”

“Right,” Hanric chimed in. “We get to ransack your corpse, then. Those are the rules.”

Varia watched as the other bandits began drawing their own weapons and advancing upon them, grinning and chuckling. She felt Morrigan beginning to channel her magic on one side of her while Alistair unsheathed his sword on the other side, but did not make a move to call forth any of her own spells. Instead, she simply took a step toward the bandits and smiled.

“Do you really want to fight a mage?” she asked them sweetly, batting her eyelashes as she continued smiling at them. The lot of them stopped dead in their tracks, most of them appearing confused by her demeanor. Hanric, however, had turned stark white and began quickly backing away from her.

“A mage? Ahh!” he exclaimed, crossing his daggers in front of him in some sort of attempt to ward off her magic. “I don’t want to be a toad!”

“Nobody’s turning you into a toad, you sniveling bastard!” the leader scolded him, causing the larger man to stop backing away - though he still held his daggers up in front of him.

“But,” he addressed Varia, “we’ll, ah... let the toll go. Just this once.”

That wasn’t good enough for her. They might be letting them go, but there were sure to be others who would pass through and she didn’t want them to end up being victimized by this bunch of brigands. Smiling even more, she continued to advance upon them, bringing her right hand up to show them the sparks which were already beginning to dance upon her fingertips.

“I think it’s time to test some spells,” she told them. Hanric fled, yelling that he didn’t want to be turned into a toad, and the rest of the bandits followed, leaving their leader alone to face those he had tried to take advantage of.

“All right!” the leader cried, holding up his hands. “I surrender! We’re just trying to get by, before the darkspawn get us all!”

“Get by?” Varia repeated angrily, the sparks in her hand increasing. “You’re a criminal!”

“Yes, I’m a criminal!” he admitted, covering his head with his arms. “I admit it. I apologize!”

“I want you to hand over everything you’ve stolen,” she ordered, holding out her other hand to him, palm-up. “Now.”

“Yes!” he quickly agreed, fumbling to remove the coin purse from his belt. “Yes, of course. The coins we’ve collected are right here.”

He placed the purse in her hand and Varia eyed him warily for a moment longer before reigning her magic back in. She continued to keep an eye on him as she opened the pouch and looked inside to find a surprisingly large number of small coins nestled within.

“Just over a hundred silvers,” the bandit informed her. “The rest is in the chests we brought. I swear! Now, um... Can I please go?”

“Not yet,” she told him, drawing the pouch closed once more and tying it to her belt. “First, I would like you to answer a question for me.”

“Of course! Anything!”

“Have you heard any news of what happened at Ostagar?” she asked him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she head Alistair take a step closer to better hear what the bandit had to say.

“I... Well, all I know is that everyone is saying the Grey Wardens betrayed the king during the darkspawn fight. Got him and themselves all killed. Teryn Loghain pulled out just in time, though. First thing he’s doing as regent is putting a bounty on Grey Wardens.”

She and Alistair shared a worried look. Loghain was blaming the Wardens for Cailan’s death. After all, who would be able to argue his claims? As far as he knew, every Grey Warden in Ferelden – and, really, everyone who had taken part in the battle in any capacity aside from his own men – had died at Ostagar. And any Wardens who may have survived were to be hunted down. Building an army to fight against the darkspawn was definitely going to be a bit harder for them if everyone in the nation truly thought the Wardens were responsible for the king’s untimely demise.

“Very well,” she finally said, turning back to the bandit. “You may leave. But I don’t ever want you showing your face around here again. Understood?”

“Oh, bless you!” he said, finally lowering his arms from over his head and bowing before her. “The darkspawn can have this place!”

With that, he took off running the way they had come. Varia almost called after him to warn him that the darkspawn were actually camped further in the marsh, but she decided against it. After all, how many people would end up dying because they lacked the funds needed to find passage to somewhere out of the path of the oncoming horde?

“Did you hear what he said?” Alistair asked her, and she nodded her head. “Loghain is blaming us for Cailan’s death?”

“So it would seem. And since he’s also put a bounty out on any surviving Wardens, we should probably refrain from telling too many people that’s what we are,” she suggested, looking up to him for his agreement.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

“I wasn’t aware you could think,” Morrigan drawled, leaning against the low wall running along the side of the bridge. Varia quickly moved to stand between her and Alistair when he began making his way toward the witch, no doubt to offer his own biting remark about how she was evil and not to be trusted.

“Look, we’ve been traveling all day. We’re tired, hungry, and – at least in my case and Alistair’s – sore all over. I say we get some rest at the inn and then, in the morning, we can gather supplies before heading out of town. Agreed?”

She looked from Alistair to Morrigan and back again, waiting until they each silently nodded in agreement. Once she felt her fellow Grey Warden relax, she finally stepped back and observed them glaring at each other for a moment before heading toward the stairs leading off the side of the bridge into town.