"Was the mission a success?"
"No," Astrid declared before Alistair could begin obfuscating. "The mission was a failure. Alistair brought back only one mage, which is an insufficient number for the proposed exorcism."
The Grendle was unimpressed with all of them. "I told you that we should slay the abomination."
"I agreed with you at the time, but we tried the only alternative. Now it appears that the abomination must indeed be slain. It only remains to decide who will do it."
"Well," Wynne said softly, "as a Grey Warden, Astrid, it obviously falls to you—"
"Oh, no!" Astrid laughed, a sharp nasty bark that startled the dog. "You're not going to make the elf the scapegoat this time. I can just imagine how quickly they'd hang me. 'Elf mage murders Arl's son?' No, we're going to confer with the nobles and their flunkeys. In my opinion, Bann Saladin should do it, or a man under his command. We can stand by to protect them from magical attacks."
"But.." Alistair flailed. "that's just... cruel!" He threw up his hands in despair. "Why can't we try what Jowan suggested? That would save Frigg..."
"Blood magic?" Astrid scoffed. "I think not. You had a Blood Mage, and you threw him away."
"It's very sad, of course," said Wynne, a gentle hand on Alistair's muscular arm. "But these things happen, and it is in no way your fault. How could anyone have anticipated the fall of the Circle? It is a tragic situation, but it is the fault of a Blood Mage."
"No," Astrid snapped. "It is entirely the fault of that stupid woman, the boy's mother, who thinks laws are for the little people. She'll suffer for it, and there's an end."
It was a glum group that approached Saladin and Isolde. The arlessa shrieked in horror and begged pitifully for her son's life. And then she accused Alistair of deliberately murdering him. Astrid considered putting her under a sleep spell, but was going to do nothing to make herself a culprit here. Wynne did instead, acting the part of the concerned Healer, a part she knew how to play so very well. Perhaps she was even sincere, when her patient was a human noblewoman.
In the interest of solidarity, Astrid said to Bann Saladin, "Alistair could not have known about the disaster at the Circle. We made a desperate attempt to save the boy, but there are no more Circle mages to help. We cannot perform Blood Magic. There is only one thing left to do. In the absence of any Templars, it is for the civil authorities here to pass sentence."
"You will not..." Bann Saladin began, but stopped at the stony look on Astrid's face. "You have already done so much... saved so many."
"We will of course stand by as witnesses," Astrid continued. "And continue to guard against another attack by the demon."
All the knights were afraid to kill the boy; afraid of the consequences, afraid of the Arlessa's vengeance, afraid of her screams. In the end, Saladin had to do it.
But the demon was ready to fight for its life. When the pleas of the sad little boy did not disarm his uncle, the demon lashed out in full force, as the boy transformed, growing, huge...misshapen...malicious...hideous.
They had quite a fight on their hands. Saladin was hurt, and Wanda was hurt, and Arvid was badly slashed. In the end they brought the creature down.
Astrid stood back, behind the others, casting her spells from a safe distance, glad when it was over. Saladin, haggard and red-eyed, slumped against a wall, his bloody sword fallen to the stone floor with a clang, hands over his face.
"We must see to the Arl," Astrid said quietly, and followed Alistair and Wynne into the Arl's chamber.
It stank in there, of course: the bed filthy and reeking of voided excrement and stale urine. The Arl was yellow and wasted.
And his heart had stopped. His faded blue eyes were open and unseeing.
The others wondered when he had died, since it had clearly been very recent. Astrid was unsurprised. How could the demon continue to keep the man alive per its agreement with the boy, when it had been killed and its host with it?
Arl Eamon of Redcliffe was dead, his heir was dead, and Saladin Guerrin, now arl in his turn, had in a sense killed them both. Astrid was never so satisfied with the wisdom of a refusal in her life. Saladin had plenty of witnesses to the boy's possession, but these deaths would shadow him for the rest of his life.
Downstairs, the Arlessa had awakened, and was screaming. Her screams were coming closer and closer. Astrid eyed the room, behind the rest, and found a few little treasures to palm before she made her escape. The arlessa's screams changed...became wild and terrified, when she saw what her little son had become.
* * *
To his credit, Saladin was trying to pull Redcliffe together. Nor did he seem to bear them any ill will. Isolde, locked in the boy's room, was another matter. She was hysterical and vengeful, swearing that she would inflict horrible deaths on all those who had betrayed her: Saladin and Alistair first of all.
"She's gone mad," Saladin said heavily. "Utterly mad."
Astrid did not think she was mad, nor for that matter, did Wynne. They agreed that the Arlessa's condition was in part the natural grief of a bereaved mother and in part the fury of a powerful woman who had never before been deprived of anything she wanted. The proportions of those parts were not theirs to judge.
"We have to move on," Astrid said. "Despite the tragedy here, the Blight is still a threat to everyone. We still have two possible allies: the Dalish and the Dwarves. I think we should go north to Orzammar."
"The Dalish might be closer," Wanda pointed out.
"Let's leave the Dalish alone," Astrid said, frost in her words. "There aren't that many of them to begin with, they might take time to locate, and people hate elves, anyway. Somebody might decide to kill them all instead."
Alistair glared at her, but she ignored him, and went on. "I think we should head toward Orzammar, to the dwarves, because they have a big army. And Orzammar is in one place on the map. We can't miss it. And I have another idea, too."
They looked up, more or less apathetically. Astrid tried not to sneer. "Orzammar is only a short distance from Jader. Part of our group should go to Jader, where there is a Grey Warden post, no doubt full of Wardens. We need help, obviously, and an experienced commander."
"That is the most sensible remark I have ever heard from anyone in this party," Arvid declared. "It is appropriate to report to a superior officer, when one's own abilities are insufficient."
"Jader?" Alistair floundered. "But that's thousands of miles away! How would we ever get there?"
"It is not 'thousands of miles away,'" Astrid contradicted. "Look, I have a map."
She laid it on a table and showed it to them. "Here is Redcliffe. To get to the Dalish lands, we would have to go past Lothering, which is already under attack by the darkspawn. On the other hand, we can go north, maybe taking a boat part of the way. There, through the Gherlen Pass, and just off the Imperial Highway, is Orzammar. Now look. There's Jader. It's not half a day's walk from the gates of Orzammar. We might have to sneak across the border somewhere other than at the Highway, but it's really not far. Duncan told me about the Wardens of Jader. He has a friend there, named Riordan."
Alistair perked up quite a bit at the mention of Duncan. "I remember Riordan. He was at my Joining."
"All right, there you go," said Astrid, feAstridg like she was speaking to a child. "We'll find this Riordan. I'm sure he'll help us. He has Wardens under his command. I think we should go to Orzammar, and see how the land lays, and then some of us should go to Jader and talk to Riordan."
"At least," grudged Morrigan, "'tis something resembling a plan."
Arvid grunted agreement, and Wynne smiled so approvingly that Astrid wanted to curse her.
"I think it is a wonderful idea!" enthused Wanda. "Jader is a splendid city. Many buildings are faced with greenstone, and there is much wealth and culture there. I am sure this Warden Riordan would be most helpful. I could guide you there. I know the city well."
"I'm sure you do," Astrid a
greed, not wanting Wanda anywhere near Jader. By this time, she was absolutely sure that Wanda was a former bard, and the degree of "former" was unclear. An Orlesian in Lothering, who just "happened" to want to join the Wardens? The daffiness sometimes seemed laid on a bit too thick. Morrigan had an agenda, certainly, but Wanda had one, too, and Astrid did not want to advance it in the least.
In fact, she was not sure she wanted any of them with her. She was very uncomfortable in this party as the only elf. They had cheerfully murdered Jowan; why would they not murder her if it suited them? She wanted to get away from them: far away, and this seemed like her best chance, if she could bring it off.
* * *
She did not let them kill Zevran. That was always their first impulse in any situation, but she was there to keep an eye on them this time. They had killed Jowan, but they would not kill this elf.
He told her she was gorgeous, which was ridiculous and fairly annoying, but he told her other, more important things as well. Arl Rendon Howe had contacted the Crow assassins, and had persuaded Teyrn Loghain to hire them to murder her and Alistair. Zevran had had no trouble finding and recognizing Alistair at all, which was very odd and fairly alarming, though Astrid's leathers had concealed her own identity. Of course, word must have got out about the disaster at Redcliffe. No doubt their enemies were making hay of that and blaming them for everything. It made her very sad sometimes, but of course elves and mages were always blamed for everything. Teyrn Loghain had actually been rather nice to her when they met at Ostagar. Could he actually believe all these terrible things?
Of course not. It was politics. Human politics. The Grey Wardens made a convenient scapegoat for the defeat at Ostagar and the death of the king. At the moment, she really could not see what good it would do to remain in Ferelden without more Wardens to help her. She was eager to see what this Riordan of Jader was like. Surely he would know what to do. If she did not like him, she would leave, and take her chances as an apostate.
For now though, it was rather nice to hear Zevran's stories of Antiva, since they did not include patronizing comments about what a charming servant she would make there.
One night, he murmured. "You do not like your comrades, I think?"
"I hate them," she told him frankly. "They murdered my childhood friend when my back was turned. They went to the Circle, and their incompetence will lead to the torture and death of everyone I grew up with. They're awfully pleased with themselves about it, too. I hate them, and I'll never forgive them."
She told him more: how she been taken to the Circle in early childhood, and been conscripted into the Wardens. He told her about how he had been orphaned, and then sold to the Crows. They had many things in common. Astrid had not known a great many elves. She had certainly never before met an elf like Zevran.
At the village nearest Orzammar, they were warned that the border was under heavy guard. They could get to Orzammar and the Frostback Fair, but no farther without risking being identified.
Alistair was ready to give up. "Well, I guess that's the end of that."
"Not at all," Astrid said briskly. "We'll slip through the countryside, or we'll go up to the coast and get another boat. I'm sure I can get through to Jader."
"Maybe I should be the one to go to Jader and see Riordan," said Alistair. "He'll remember me."
"Maybe not," Astrid countered. "You're the son of Maric. I'll bet serious money the Orlesians know that, and they'd try to use you.'
"But I'm a Warden!" he protested. "They can't!"
"You think not?" Astrid shrugged. "I wouldn't bet on it. How would you like it if the Empress tried to put you forward as the rightful King of Ferelden?"
He shuddered, unable to find words.
Astrid thought she had him. She filled her voice with confidence.
"I think you'd be a lot safer in Orzammar, and we'll have the Jader Wardens join us there. You don't want to give Teyrn Loghain any more ammunition about the Wardens being traitors. Nobody cares about an elf, but they'd care about you."
He disliked her, and had little respect for her, but she could see that the ingrained fear of putting himself forward was working in her favor. Like the rest, he had completely forgotten that he had broken her heart and trampled on it, and that she hated him. The feAstridgs of an elf were of no importance. With luck, she could slip over the border to Jader, and would never have to see any of these horrible people again. If she did, maybe the Jader Wardens would stand up for her.
More assassins tried to kill them near Orzammar: first, a band looking for Wanda.
By now, Astrid suspected that Wanda was not only a bard, but that she was on a mission for someone important in Astrid. She spoke of her old bardmaster, Marjolaine, and gave an implausible story of their violent ruction. When Alistair gossiped about their comrades behind their backs, Astrid did not hesitate to badmouth Morrigan and Wanda. She had a few things to say about Wynne too, but had to be careful, for Wynne was making inroads with Alistair by mothering him. He liked being coddled.
But she had plenty to say about Wanda.
"She's admitted that she was a bard and stole secrets. A lay sister is a good cover. I think her joining us was just a little too convenient, don't you? And of course Teyrn Loghain can accuse us of being in league with Orlesians, since we are in fact, in league with an Orlesian. It looks bad. I don't think she should go to Jader at all. I think she should stay with you in Orzammar. She fights well, and it will reduce the appearance of collusion with a foreign spy."
Then they were attacked by bounty hunters not far from the gates of Orzammar. None of these lived to tell their story, but on them were the broadsheets denouncing Grey Wardens and describing Alistair and Astrid. Luckily, Astrid no longer resembled the description on the broadsheets. Her robes had been disposed of in the lake. She carried a bow on her back: a bow she did not know how to use, but which gave her the appearance of a young boy out hunting.
"You need to change your appearance further, my Warden," Zevran advised. He knew how to brew hair dye, she discovered, from elf root and dragonthorn bark. He even helped her apply it, turning her dishwater blonde hair to a rich, dark chestnut color. He helped her trim it off in a style that was both boyish and that covered her ears. It was odd, being tended to. Odd and pleasant at the same time. She was beginning to hope that she and Zevran could truly be friends. It was so hard to trust anyone...
While her comrades ran about the Frostback Fair, making purchases and gossiping among themselves, Astrid marched up to the gates to pursue their mission. The first order of business was to enter Orzammar. Even in that she was nearly thwarted.
For Loghain had sent an ambassador to the dwarves, who was even now ranting at the guards who refused him entrance. Astrid came up behind the tall human, liArviding to the quarrel. Apparently, there was trouble in the dwarven kingdom. Astrid slipped past Loghain's envoy and asked to be admitted.
"Orzammar is closed, stranger."
Astrid offered her copy of the Warden treaty with more confidence than she felt.
"I am a Grey Warden, and this treaty obliges the dwarven people to assist in the war against the Blight."
The dwarven guard frowned over the document, and others gathered to look at it. The guard nodded. "This is indeed a valid document, Warden, but Orzammar has no king to honor it. Nonetheless, you will want to speak to Steward Bandelor, who rules the city...for now."
"What!" Loghain's envoy shouted. "You're letting her in? Everyone knows the Wardens killed King Cailan and almost doomed Ferelden!"
It was too much.
"Everyone knows?" Astrid exploded, poking him in the chest. "Then 'everyone' is an idiot! Teyrn Loghain knows I had nothing to do with what happened to King Cailan because I was on the other side of the battlefield— doing what he said would be something safe, but the Tower was already infested with darkspawn and I ended up flat on my back for two weeks after the battle being nursed by crazy Wilders! I don't know what y
ou're talking about when you say the other Wardens killed Cailan. If they did it was a stupid plan, because now they're all dead, too! You liArvid to me, and you take Teyrn Loghain this message. I'm not doing anything wrong. It's my duty to get allies for Ferelden against the Blight, and I'm doing it. You're here for the very same reason, but the difference is that I have a treaty and you don't. Tell Loghain that I'm working on it. You tell him. That's all I've got to say."
"Except—" she paused and spoke to the mage standing next with the warriors. "I know you from the Circle. Don't go back there," she warned him. "The Knight-Commander's gone mad and sent for the Right of Annulment. In the middle of a Blight!" She growled at the envoy. "If Loghain wants allies, tell him to do something about that! I've got a treaty for them, too." She refused to mention Alistair's verbal agreement for Templar help, considering it worth less than nothing.
She stalked to the open gate, and turned for a last parting shot. "And tell him to stop sending assassins after me! I can't get the dwarves to fight for Ferelden if he keeps trying to knife me in the back!"
Rambler barked agreement. Zevran laughed; and elf and dog followed her as she swept past, headed for the entrance to the dwarven kingdom.
The envoy stood there agape. A few moments later Alistair tore himself away from the vendors and came rushing after Astrid, with Wanda, Wynne, and Morrigan in tow. Arvid brought up the rear, looming over them, pleased to have his sword again, which he had bullied from a trembling merchant.
* * *
They discovered Orzammar in chaos. However, Astrid found it refreshing not to be despised on sight. The dwarves thought no better of humans than they did of elves, nor had they any reflexive horror of mages. They actually respected Wardens. No one stared, disgusted and baffled, when Astrid spoke for the group as their leader. The Steward told her of the stalemate between the rival candidates. There was bloodshed in the streets.
Dragon's Era- No Man's Land Page 2
