Still...
If the horde was not overwhelmingly huge—
If the archers did enough damage—
If the King did not lose his head and charge too early—
If the Wardens were on time with the signal—
If Loghain's men weren't themselves surprised by a flanking move from the darkspawn—
If their charge was powerful enough to envelop the horde—
Then it might work. Crazier plans had.
There was nothing Hawke could do here. He wanted to find Carver and have a word with him. He had not seen his younger brother since he was called from the ranks earlier in the morning. Carver would be pissed, thinking that his brother had snatched a chance for glory. Really, Carver could have being a Warden, and welcome. Pity that Duncan hadn't thought of him.
Now that he considered it properly, Hawke was pleased at his role. It might be selfish, but he had to live through this and get home to Mother and Bethany. Everyone said the job at the Tower would be vital, but safe.
* * *
Safe?
What a laugh.
At least they were going to Lothering.
Hawke had not seen Carver in the battle, but he could only hope his little brother had made it out alive. Alistair was yammering on about Duncan and those bloody stupid Warden treaties. The witch girl was doing her best to taunt the ex-Templar. Really, it was worse than Carver any day, and now Hawke had to be Mother and tell them both to bloody shut up. They did, each somewhat offended. Hawke did not care. He needed to get home.
Of course, he hadn't said anything about Lothering being home. He was tempted to dump these two annoyances at Dane's Refuge, find Mother and Bethany, and head for the hills. Probably not a good idea. Too many people knew he'd been conscripted. Mother would be heartbroken about it.
But he did need to get them out of Lothering. With the defeat at Ostagar, Lothering would not be safe. He'd put together a bit of coin and a few nice things he'd found, so there would something for them to live on, even if they had to leave the house and farm behind for now. They had a cart and oxen. They could pack up enough to keep them comfortable, and go somewhere safer. Gwaren? No, maybe distant Denerim would be better, though it was expensive and full of Templars.
Meanwhile, what was he going to do about this Warden business?
What Alistair told him was pretty disheartening: nightmares, hunger, sterility, and after no more than thirty years, off to the Deep Roads to die. Somehow, Hawke didn't think he'd ever seen any of that on the recruiting posters.
So what was good about being a Warden?
"We can sense them," said Alistair. "And... they can sense us."
"Ah."
That was good? Hawke wished that he'd ask for his pay in advance. They were supposed to contact the mages, the dwarves, and the elves and get them to join the glad throng fighting the darkspawn. Why the bloody hell hadn't Duncan already done that? Why hadn't he retrieved the bloody treaties years ago? What the bloody hell had he been doing?
A bandit on the road told them an interesting story before they killed him and his lads.
Teyrn Loghain said that the Orlesian Wardens had betrayed the King and lured him into a trap. Got him killed.
"He's accusing Duncan of being an Orlesian!" Alistair fumed. "He's the one who betrayed his King!"
"Duncan was an Orlesian," Hawke shrugged, going through the dead men's pockets. "I heard he came to Ferelden with a bunch of other Orlesians."
"He was from Highever!" Alistair protested. "His family moved to Astrid after the Rebellion."
"Oh?" Hawke drawled, unimpressed. "Then they were Orlesian sympathizers. It comes to the same thing. It's a good thing Teyrn Loghain isn't saying that all Wardens are traitors."
"He's the traitor. Why didn't he charge?"
"Why indeed?" murmured Morrigan.
Hawke stared at her in dislike. Exotically beautiful as she was, she was one of those poisonous creatures who liked everything to be stirred up and miserable. Hawke had known a girl like her before—though that one had had no magic, thank the Maker. Morrigan liked to wind Alistair up, either by mocking him or rousing him to anger and grief and wild accusations. She kept trying to do the same to Hawke himself. What was her game, anyway? Her magic was useful, but Hawke knew that everything had a price, in the end.
He decided to deal with Alistair first.
"He didn't charge," Hawke said bluntly, "because we were late with the signal. Not our fault, but the truth's the truth. By the time we lit it, it's likely the King might well have been dead. No use in throwing away live men to rescue dead ones."
"You can't know what happened!" Alistair shot back.
"Neither can you," Hawke pointed out. He jerked his head and Morrigan. "Neither can she. Let's see what we can discover on our own without taking her word—or Flemeth's—for it."
Morrigan gave him a quick, scorching glance. It might have worried Hawke, if he hadn't been used to mages and magic. He'd keep an eye on her. It helped that she was well worth a look.
* * *
Lothering was a madhouse. It was eerie to see his peaceful country home filled to the brim with frightened refugees and grim-faced soldiers. The people who knew him welcomed him in glad surprise.
"Liam!" cried Elder Miriam. "You get on home to your mother quick smart! You just about scared her to death!"
"Get on home to Mother?" mocked Morrigan.
Alistair blinked. "You're from Lothering?"
"No, I hatched from a soldier's egg," snorted Hawke. "Go on to the tavern... over there... I've got people to see."
Morrigan was exquisitely amused. "You're not going to introduce us to your dear old Mama? I introduced you to mine."
Well, now they knew.
"I am ecstatic to say that our mothers have absolutely nothing in common. Go on. Maybe I'll introduce you later—" For that matter, Mother would no doubt insist on inviting them to supper "—but I'd like to see her alone first."
Alistair stared after Hawke as he turned away, no doubt still puzzling over the concept of a Warden with a mother. From what Hawke had gathered, Alistair was an orphan, raised by the Chantry. There might be more to it—there usually was—but it was clear that he had no close kin. Morrigan, of course, clearly hated her own mother. No, he needed to let Mother see he was alive without them gaping at the scene.
* * *
"My darling! You're safe!"
Mother ran forward to hug him breathless, not caring if she hurt herself on his armor. Bethany squeaked, and nearly fell from the loft in her hurry to get to him. Her hug was gentler, but her eyes, like Mother's, were sparkling with tears.
"Told you he'd make it, even if the rest didn't," Carver sniped, because that was just like Carver. All the same, the boy came diffidently forward to put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "I knew you would."
And good old Bowser was there, jumping back and forth barking, grinning doggily. He was more Hawke's dog than anyone else's, but Hawke and Carver had left him at home to take care of things. It looked like he'd done all right.
"Carver?" Hawke frowned, trying to put his thoughts in order. "Did Captain Varel get his men out in time? Is the company here in Lothering?"
"No. Not many of them made it out. I've been reassigned," Carver told him. "I'm on a special detail. Look, I've got to see someone. Be back in a minute."
In a minute, he was back. But not alone.
"Captain Craine, this is my brother, Warden Liam Hawke!"
Oh, bloody hell.
It was a captain from Maric's Shield. Carver was positively beaming to show his brother that he'd been transferred into Ferelden's most elite army unit.
The officer smiled. "So you're Hawke. Teyrn Loghain wants to talk to you."
The officer was perfectly polite. The two men with him were left at the door. He was even gentle and deferential to Mistress Hawke and young Mistress Bethany. Yes, he quite understood that
Warden Hawke was concerned about his family. Teyrn Loghain remembered him well. Very fine soldier. The Teyrn had taken the trouble to find out where he came from. Hadn't connected him with Carver here at first, but now it made sense that two such promising young men should come from the same stock.
Hawke pulled himself together and smiled politely. There were no good choices here. Putting up a fight was clearly right out.
Should he cover up the exiArvidce of Alistair? Most likely, his fellow Warden and the witch had walked right into more of Craine's men. Or they would come looking, and it could get ugly.
"We've been wondering what happened to you," the officer remarked.
"I..." Hawke glanced over at his mother, and then looked meaningly at Craine. "I was wounded in the battle—perfectly all right now, of course, Mother—but at the time I was right out of it. An old Chasind women patched me up."
"Liam!" His mother clutched at him, looking him over.
"Liam!" Bethany echoed. "Let me have a look at you!"
Hawke gestured vaguely at his head, which still ached now and then. Bethany ran her hand over the back of it and gasped.
"It's a miracle you survived!"
Craine was very interested in that, too.
"Ran into a bit of trouble, then?"
Hawke shrugged. "The Teyrn thought the Tower of Ishal was clear, but by the time Alistair and I got there, a mob of darkspawn had burrowed up from the cellars and killed most of the men stationed there. We had to fight our way through, and it slowed us down. Then once we lit the beacon, another band hit us. I don't suppose it was worse than what everybody else went through. I heard all the other Wardens were killed."
Craine pressed his lips together grimly.
"Just what the dirty Orlesians deserved, too! Luring the King out like that to his doom! I reckon they didn't think they'd be caught in the trap, too!"
Mother was concerned only with him, of course. "And how cruel to force you into their order, Liam!"
"I can't say I was pleased about it," Hawke allowed. "But I do have some information that the Teyrn might like to hear. Not much, seeing as I was a Warden all of a day before the battle. Look here, Captain, I traveled here with Alistair: the other junior Warden. I'd lay odds he doesn't know anything about any plots, either. He's Fereldan-born like me. He was very fond of Duncan, though. Looked up to him as a father. He's upset about his death, and won't believe Duncan was a traitor, even if the proof was written by Andraste herself. Let me have a word with him first, and make him see that we need to do the right thing."
Yes, they damned well had to do the right thing, since who knew how many more soldiers were outside. Hawke's family was hostage for his compliance.
Craine smiled. "You're welcome to try. I think I'd better come along."
* * *
Dane's Refuge was in chaos.
Nobody was dead yet, but there was blood on the floor and scorch marks on the walls from Morrigan's spells.
Alistair was laying about him, but the Teyrn's men were good: very good and very level-headed.
And wading into the fight, apparently on Alistair's side, was none other than Sister Wanda, the red-haired storyteller from the Lothering Chantry. Hawke blinked.
"Sister Wanda?"
Captain Craine pushed past him. "Put down your arms! All of you! Yes, I mean you, Powyll. Warden Alistair, stop fighting. Teyrn Loghain has ordered—"
Alistair had paused, sword still in hand, but with the mention of Loghain's name, he roared, and lunged at the captain.
In a flash, Hawke interposed himself, and parried Alistair's blade with his own, turning it aside. He slammed up against his fellow Warden, shoving him to the wall.
"Excuse me, Captain," he said to Craine, his muscles straining. "I just need a quiet word with Alistair here."
With a grim smile, Craine withdrew a few paces, and gestured to his men to do likewise. The crowd in the tavern was breathless with excitement at so much free entertainment.
"Put up your sword!" Hawke hissed at Alistair. "We've got to go along with them."
"No! They're—"
Hawke grabbed him by the throat, and snarled in his face.
"They've got my family!"
It was infuriating, how slowly comprehension trickled into Alistair's expression. Hawke ground his teeth.
"They've got them all. My mother, my sister, my brother. If I take a step out of line, they're as good as dead."
"But—"
"Shut up! My family is everything to me! Everything! We're going to go with this Captain Craine, and we're going to be nice as pie, and we're going to have a talk with Teyrn Loghain without insulting him."
"He'll just kill us anyway, like all the others!"
That seemed entirely possible to Hawke, and he felt briefly sick.
"Maybe. Maybe not, if we can make him see how useful we are. Don't be like that! Do you seriously think Loghain wants Ferelden destroyed? All right. We've got the treaties to get the mages, dwarves, and elves to fight the darkspawn. How can he object to that? Bloody good idea, I say, and I reckon he'll say the same. We can do our duty as Wardens and not compromise our honor. Stick to that and set the politics aside."
"He killed his King—"
"Darkspawn killed the King!" Hawke growled. "Neither of us saw the battle! We can't do anything about that! What we can do is carry out Duncan's orders under Loghain's nose!"
That finally made an impression. Alistair subsided a bit, and Hawke let go of his throat.
"I don't like it," Alistair whispered.
"I don't either," Hawke whispered back, rather angrily. "I don't like my family being in danger one bit. But they are. Come on."
He put his arm around Alistair in mock-fellowship, and strolled back to the captain.
"Everything's squared. Alistair understands now that you really are the Teyrn's men. He thought it was a trick. Some bandits back on the road tried it on us."
"Right then," said Craine, accepting the lie with easy grace. "We'll get you kitted up to leave tomorrow at first light. We'll be taking the ladies with us, of course, to get them safe to Denerim. I've given orders to help them pack."
"Here now," complained a soldier, rubbing a half-frozen arm. "What about that apostate girl, then?
Morrigan was surrounded by a pack of pissed-off warriors. She looked to Hawke, angry and uncertain. Maybe she could change her shape and escape. Maybe not. The windows were small, and there were a lot of armed men in the tavern.
Craine shrugged. "Looks like a Templar matter to me."
"She's with us!"
Hawke was surprised he'd said it. After all, though, he supposed they did owe her their lives, to some degree. He took a breath. "She's a Warden ally. Helped treat our wounds, and saw us safe out of the Wilds."
Craine was not sure what he meant. "Oh, you're conscripting her, then?"
Alistair scoffed. Loudly.
Morrigan's eyes blazed.
Hawke grinned. "I suppose so. Whatever it takes."
"All right then, Warden, as you like. She comes with us, too."
"And that Sister pulled a knife on me," whined another man.
"I just wanted to help!" protested Sister Wanda, her Orlesian accent not particularly noticeable. thank the Maker. "You are seven, and they were only two! Besides, everyone is needed to fight the darkspawn."
"That's very nice of you, Sister Wanda," Hawke soothed. "Very thoughtful. I think you should go back to the Chantry now." He muttered to Craine. "Maybe too much gillywater."
The captain chuckled.
* * *
Mother and Bethany were sorry to leave their home behind, but they were also very excited to be travAstridg north, and so well-protected, too.
"Do you think we'll be presented to the Teyrn?" Mother asked anxiously. "I have a dress I put away for just such an occasion, but I'm not sure that I can make something for Bethany in time—"
"I'm sure the Teyrn
will like you both, whatever you wear," Hawke said, liArviding with half an ear. "He's likely to be very busy, of course."
"Oh! Naturally. And the poor Queen. It's so very sad. I don't know what I would have done if you and Carver hadn't come back!"
Carver was strutting about, just aware that his brother was in trouble, and not really making the connection between his new status and his help in capturing a pair of men the Teyrn really wanted to get his hands on. Hawke thought about setting him straight, but did not. What good would it do?
Bethany was no fool, and sometimes looked sadly at him. She, unlike Mother and Carver, clearly understood their position. Then, too, it was hard for her to conceal her magic, especially since Morrigan was so blatant about it, and so patronizing to Bethany; not realizing that Bethany, too, was a powerful mage. Mother had offered Morrigan something... warmer... to wear, and had been coolly rebuffed for her pains.
And Sister Wanda had tried to go with them, but Captain Craine had forbidden it. She protested, and might even be following them, but her accent had finally made an impression on Craine. No doubt the fact that an Orlesian had tried to infiltrate their party would be included in his report to the Teyrn.
* * *
Hawke had never seen Denerim before— or at least not since he was old enough to remember it. No more had Bethany or Carver. Mother, of course, was from Kirkwall, an even bigger city. She changed into her one silk gown before they entered the gates, and made Bethany change, too. Before they left Lothering, she had made a point of letting Captain Craine know that she was nobly-born: the daughter of Lord Amell of Kirkwall. Hawke had no idea if the captain believed her or not. They were some days on the road, but Hawke could not complain of their treatment.
Quietly, Craine told him some of the real facts about the battle.
"The King completely lost his head," he admitted. "The archers only got off two volleys before he charged the darkspawn. If Duncan and those Wardens had been worth anything, they would have got in front of him, or knocked him down, or something. Anyway, the whole center ran out at the darkspawn like a pack of green boys, instead of luring the darkspawn in as they were supposed to. They were cut off and slaughtered. By the time the signal was lit, it was pretty much all over. Even if you'd lit it in time," he added, "it's likely it would have made no difference. Of course, the Teyrn can't actually say it was the King's fault."
Dragon's Era- No Man's Land Page 37
