Dragon's Era- No Man's Land

by Jacon Winfree

  "This is lovely," she breathed, stroking the satiny finish. "I like anyone who sent me something like this. I love having nice things."

  The news from their correspondents was of the ordinary rhythm of Fereldan life: of Arl Wulffe's abrupt marriage to a lady thirty years his junior; of an infestation of mites in Bann Loren's orchards; of the improving health of Lord Oswyn, heir to Bann Sighard. In the south, efforts were ongoing to cleanse the Taint from the land by fire. South Reach, West Hills, and even Redcliffe would have to purchase quite a lot of foodstuffs from the north of Ferelden this year. It seemed that the country was once again secure, and falling back into safe, familiar patterns.

  Thus, their surprise was the greater when they heard that darkspawn had attacked Amaranthine.

  * * *

  The new Warden-Commander passed through Highever in the month of Solace, rather tardily. Perhaps it had taken the Orlesians some time to make their choice and set their strategy. As Fergus was his neighbor and his liege lord, the Warden-Commander had the courtesy to pay his homage before taking up his arling. A young Grey Warden recruit—the same young woman who had returned Fergus' books— came out from Vigil's Keep to meet him, and the two were entertained at Castle Highever for a few days.

  Gerod Caron was of chevalier stock: a younger son of a distinguished family. His manners were very much in the Orlesian style, though he spoke the King's tongue with barely an accent. He paid his respects to his teyrn very properly. Fergus had briefed Habren thoroughly before receiving the man, and thus was not embarrassed by his wife simpering as the Orlesian offered her extravagant compliments. Nor was he annoyed by her behaving rudely to a hated Orlesian. As he asked her, she received the new Arl of Amaranthine exactly as she would receive any other Fereldan nobleman. As expected, her behavior was a bit haughty. It actually worked quite well, and the Orlesian appeared to find it appropriate. Fergus privately wondered how the man would shape up to the task ahead.

  For one thing, he was evidently a dedicated Grey Warden, caring very little about the land and people under his rule. That was, of course, also the Orlesian way. Equals were to be plotted against, and inferiors were to be trampled underfoot. It was not the Fereldan way—or what a Cousland held to be the Fereldan way. Freeholders were not serfs, and commoners were not slaves. People had the right to a trial. Nobles did not have the right of summary execution here, as they did in Astrid. Fergus spoke casually of his father's travels in Astrid, and the differences in their two countries when they sat at table together, and later, in the privacy of his study. To his shame, he was glad of his splendid new desk and the improvements to the castle, when confronted with this arrogant stranger.

  He mentioned the standard tribute to Caron, letting him know that the seneschal at Vigil's Keep was aware of all the proper amounts and times. The Orlesian was non-committal. Undoubtedly he was aware that it was unacceptable in a vassal to fail to pay proper dues to his lord. Fergus wondered if Caron would try to get away with flouting Fergus, expecting the King to favor the Grey Wardens in any event. It would be unwise. Fergus had thought through a great many scenarios, and had plans he could put into motion if the Wardens proved rebellious vassals.

  Those particular plans were never implemented, because only a few days later, they were once more at war with the darkspawn.

  Events transpired very, very quickly, and Fergus and the rest of Highever did not know the details until much later, when it as all over and the terrified refugees began arriving.

  The first of them was refused entrance to the castle, and stood pleading and arguing with the guards. Fergus happened to be on the way out for a ride, and noticed that the man's clothes, while filthy and ragged, had once been fine.

  "What's going on here?" he demanded.

  "Your Grace," rasped the elderly man, his face thin and haggard. "You many not remember me..."

  "Lord Eddlebreck! You men there! Let him pass! I know him!"

  Dismounting, he offered the old man his arm and led him quickly to the Great Hall, ordering some refreshment for his guest.

  "I'm only just arrived..." the man choked out. "I've been two days at sea, but I didn't know where else to go..."

  "Maker! What has happened?"

  The old man stared, as if it were written in the sky. "You don't know? You haven't heard? The Wardens burned the city of Amaranthine to the ground!"

  Then he fainted.

  There were others in Eddlebreck's party: his married daughter, her young children, and a handful of servants. They were all hungry and desperate. They had been in Amaranthine on a visit to the market. The situation made it impossible to make it back to their manor in the Feravel Plain. Instead, after an abortive attempt to leave the city by the South Gate, they had managed to hire a fishing boat, and Eddlebreck, who was an old friend of Bryce Cousland, thought that the safest course was to seek out his friend's son at once. Thus Lord Eddlebreck was the first to bring news of events in Amaranthine. He was not the last. Others arrived, traumatized and outraged, pleading for help and for vengeance.

  The bare bones of the matter were these: darkspawn had attacked Vigil's Keep just before Commander Caron's arrival, and killed all but one or two of the Wardens. The attack was quick, brutal, and organized. It was led by a darkspawn that could talk and had a leader, called the Architect. Caron and a few supporters were able to regain control of the castle and kill the darkspawn, but Caron was left with almost no command, and was forced to recruit what survivors were available.

  Fergus was enraged to discover that one of those survivors was none other than Nathaniel Howe, who had been lurking about the castle, up to no good. Fergus decided that it was most likely that Varel had lied to him and had been sheltering Nathaniel all along. At any rate, Caron had recruited him into the Wardens instantly. Another recruit was some apostate mage on the scene, and another was a man Fergus had met in Denerim: the dwarf Oghren Kondrat, one-time companion of Warden—now Paragon —Aeducan, the Hero of Ferelden.

  Eddlebreck had seen all of them, and recognized Nathaniel Howe, when he and the rest of the nobles of Amaranthine had been presented to their new arl.

  "We were all willing to give the man a chance, but I can't say we were happy to have an Orlesian ruling the roost. Well, that's not true. I'm not sure Esmerelle wanted to give him a chance. Saw her looking daggers at him. I don't know if she's alive or not..."

  Events were not entirely clear, but apparently the Wardens had gone into the Deep Roads, and met up with the forces of Paragon Aeducan, who had been patrolling nearby with elements of the Legion of the Dead. That part of the fighting had gone well. The darkspawn there had been decisively defeated, but other darkspawn forces had surfaced. One of them attacked Vigil's Keep. The other apparently infiltrated the city of Amaranthine. Eddlebreck's tale of fleeing through the market first to the South Gate and then to the harbor steps was vivid.

  "Some of the ships put out without giving anybody a chance to board. They shoved people back with boathooks and pikes. One of the Kirkwaller captains ordered his archers to shoot into the crowd. Bastard. Captain of the Swallow, he was. I'll remember that name until the day I die."

  "But it was the Wardens, not the darkspawn, who set the fires?"

  "It was that bastard Orlesian, all right! Saw him there myself, ordering the guards push us back from the South Gate when we tried to get out. Said we might be Tainted. Said he couldn't take the risk. The man knew who I was! I was presented along with the rest of the nobles! Wouldn't give me the time of day! Wouldn't even let the children through!"

  After liArviding to others, including some of the surviving city guards, Fergus had a clearer picture of the chain of events.

  Caron, considering the Warden fortress his first priority, had declared that Amaranthine was unsalvageable, and had ordered the destruction of the city by fire, killing the darkspawn and all the wretched, helpless people who remained trapped within the walls.

  Only a few score had escaped
, and all of those by fleeing north to the harbor. Some had gone west on the coast road, and others had taken ship for Highever, seeking sanctuary and protection from Teyrn Fergus.

  More of the beggarly survivors trickled into Highever, dispossessed of everything they owned by the destruction of their city. They spat curses at the very mention of the Grey Wardens.

  Caron, they reported, was claiming a successful campaign. The darkspawn leader, the Architect, was slain, and also a more mysterious figure, called "The Mother." After all, what was the destruction of a major Fereldan city to an Orlesian Grey Warden?

  Horror at the fate of Amaranthine was coupled with the fact that the darkspawn had attacked only Amaranthine, where the Grey Wardens were located. This gave rise to furious rumors that the Wardens had in fact attracted the creatures to Amaranthine.

  "The creatures would never have come here otherwise," ran the gossip, and there seemed to be some truth to it. No darkspawn had been seen in Amaranthine during the Blight.

  "Remember Ostagar? How the darkspawn seemed to know where the Wardens were? How they killed all the ones in the vanguard, and killed King Cailan too, because he was standing too close to them?"

  In fact, rumor was rampant that this was a deliberate Orlesian plot: an Orlesian noble sent to engineer the death and destruction of Fereldans for Orlesian purposes, luring the darkspawn back, putting himself and his own ahead of the people he was supposed to protect.

  The fate of Bann Esmerelle and many of the nobles was also unknown. Some of the refugees told Fergus that there had been trouble from the first between the new Arl and the old Howe party, but details were lacking.

  Fergus had no use at all for Esmerelle, who was a Howe loyalist of the worst sort, but the Warden-Arl had clearly broken faith with his oaths by putting the Wardens above his duty to the people of the arling. No one was going to be able to sweep Caron's destruction of the city of Amaranthine under the carpet.

  Nor could Fergus ignore it. He must act, and so sent a summons by a fast-riding courier to Caron, asking him to appear and answer for his actions. The reply came a few days later. Fergus opened it, and scowled as he read.

  Your Grace,

  My most respectful sentiments to you and your noble Teyrna. I am honored to report that the darkspawn have been utterly destroyed by the Grace of the Maker and the valor of the Grey Wardens.

  I regret that my duties make attending on Your Grace impossible at the moment. I have done nothing that I was not imperiously called upon to do, and I make no apologies for accomplishing my primary mission as a Grey Warden. As the events have been successfully concluded, i cannot see that explanations are necessary.

  When my duties are complete and we are both at leisure, I would be honored to recount to you the remarkable tale of our successful adventures, always reserving those matters which are by their nature privy only to fellow Grey Wardens.

  I am, Your Grace, your most humble and obedient servant,

  Gerod Caron, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden and Arl of Amaranthine.

  "The bloody impertinence!" Fergus snarled. He read the note again, fuming.

  There was nothing for it. It was either invade Amaranthine outright, which he hardly had troops or funds to do, or...

  Yes, it was the only choice: Fergus would have to appeal to the King, to whom Caron must answer. If the King gave him no satisfaction, then he would summon every noble in Ferelden to an emergency Landsmeet.

  * * *

  "I'm going to Denerim with you!" Habren wailed. "You can't leave me behind!"

  Fergus bit back a sharp reply, and tried to reason with her.

  "Habren, I can't take the carriage. I've got to ride hard and fast. I've got to be there with the facts before Eamon and Caron smooth it all over with lies. In your condition, you can't ride all day, and I've got to think about your health."

  Her tearful eyes held no comprehension.

  "Habren, it could be dangerous. Some of the people at Court are my enemies! They might try to hurt you in order to strike at me."

  "You'd protect me. Father will be there. He'll help us. I want to see him!" Her voice broke, and she began sobbing. "I want to see him. I need to see my father! I'm frightened, Fergus! I'll ride on the back of your horse and hold tight. Please don't leave me!"

  "You could lose the baby!" he gritted out. "You could die!"

  "I won't! I promise! Maybe we could go by boat! That's easier than riding! What if somebody comes to get me and you're not here?"

  He thought of the massacre, and was nearly sick. She was not altogether wrong to be afraid.

  And there was something to be said for going by ship. While it would take longer than a fast ride overland, it would give Fergus a chance to see Amaranthine for himself. While he trusted Eddlebreck, he really must evaluate the extent of the disaster for himself —and perhaps bring needed supplies and assistance to those who might have survived in hiding... in cellars, perhaps, or who had swum out into the water long enough to avoid the fire, and then were left, stranded and starving, on the beach.

  Even in the worst fires— like the Great Highever Fire of Blessed 8:12—whole cities were not consumed and whole populations were not killed. There were always buildings that survived and people who found ways to live. In fact setting fire to the city seemed a very inefficient way to fight the darkspawn, for surely the Grey Wardens would still have to comb through the rubble. Darkspawn were notoriously tough.

  "All right, we'll go by ship. I don't think you understand that this will be hard and unpleasant, Habren. We still have to travel light. You can take one lady, one maid, and one trunk. Your women can take a bag each. We'll have to bring supplies to any survivors of the fire. Lord Eddlebreck will have to come along to Denerim with us as a witness. Start packing. We're leaving this very day. I'll make the arrangements."

  She squealed with joy and gave him a quick kiss before she rushed off. Fergus rolled his eyes.

  He gave the orders, and arranged for a second, smaller ship as well. It might be necessary to send a message back to his steward in Highever with instructions. It would allow to carry more supplies to the survivors.

  Their party was packed and on board in time for the evening tide. Habren, already prone to morning sickness, soon was vomiting helplessly. Ginger tea gave her some relief, but she was sick and miserable for the entire voyage.

  They sailed all night. By noon the next day, they had reached Amaranthine, guided by black smoke still risking from the Keep and from the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer, the highest points in the city.

  It seemed unwise to attempt to tie up in the ruins of the dockyards. Instead they dropped anchor well offshore. Fergus borrowed the captain's spyglass, and saw people on the west beach. Some appeared to be trying to spear fish; others were gathering shieldfins. There were some scattered campfires. Yes, there were survivors, but they appears to have nothing. Here and there, a lean-to had been constructed of charred timbers and trash.

  "I'll take a ship's boat," he told the captain, "and I'll beach it over there. Load it with kegs of salted fish and dried fruit. Blankets, too, and the biggest of the tents I brought. I'll want a squad of soldiers with me, too. "

  As they came up on the beach, the strongest of the survivors attempted to rush their boat. Fergus' men knocked a few heads together, and the attackers backed away, whining.

  "We're starving! We need help!"

  "I'm the Teyrn of Highever," Fergus barked out. "I've brought food, blankets, tents, and healing herbs. Everyone will get their share, unless I see someone trampling women and children. Get them up here." He looked about for someone in authority. "Where are the Grey Wardens? Where's the City Guard?"

  "Wardens?" a man jeered. Then he spat on the ground. "Haven't seen them since they did their best to kill us all. Gone south, I reckon. They poked through the rubble, and told us we were safe. Safe," he sneered, "Safe to starve and die!"

  There were more survivors than Eddlebreck
had estimated: at least two hundred. Many more might have gone inland, looking for shelter elsewhere. Probably quite a few were strung out along the Coast Road, headed for Highever. Those not on the march were for the most part the poorest of the poor, or the ones too old, too young, or too ill to make the journey on foot—with no food or shelter—to Highever. Among them were pregnant women, of course, always so vulnerable.

  The city, at the moment, was not habitable, other than a shed by the waterfront that a band of thugs, preying on the survivors, had seized for themselves. They had dragged some hapless young girls in there to service them. Distressed mothers and fathers complained to Fergus, who sent the boat back for more soldiers and supplies. The the food was distributed first. Some of the weaker survivors crouched on the beach nearby to eat, knowing that outside of Fergus' protection, the food would be taken from them.

  "Your Grace?" A sooty-faced young woman in Amaranthine leathers gave him a tired bow. "I'm in the Guard. Not many of us are left. Not enough to keep order."

  "You will be," Fergus told her grimly. He set a watch on the sheds, so the thugs could not get out, and then had some of the people on the beach erect the largest tent.

  "This is for the old and the very young. For pregnant women, too," he shouted. "Everyone line up and get a blanket!"

  With his soldiers behind him and his eyes on them, the people behaved reasonably well, not shoving the helpless aside in order to grab the best for themselves. As the line moved forward, Fergus' eyes widened at the sight of a young woman. She was rail-thin and filthy, but he knew her all the same.

  "Delilah!"

  She looked up at him reluctantly, perhaps frightened of this meeting.

  "Your Grace," she said softly, inclining her head. A soldier looked at Fergus and then gave her one of the rough wool blankets. She took it at once, and put it over her shoulders.

  "Over here, if you please," Fergus ordered. "I wish to speak to you. Soldier, keep the line moving along. Those with blankets can help set up the kettle for soup. You women! You're in charge of cooking. The sergeant will give you supplies." He turned to the officer with him. "Keep on eye on everything. I need a moment with this lady."