So they reached Denerim, and Hawke was pleased to find that Mother and Bethany were far happier under the new rules. After spending some of Carver's loot, they were far better dressed, too.
And the Dalish had kept their word. Nearly nine hundred warriors of the Dalish clans were ready to accompany the Wardens south. Hawke introduced his fellow Wardens to them, and a fairly easy relationship was established, only marred now and then by insults and harrassment by humans they met along the road. Hawke dealt with these incidents with dispatch, backed up by his companions, most especially Avernus, who had a tendency to frighten most people.
"I'm so glad you're a Warden, Hawke," said Merrill, with sweet artlessness. "Otherwise I would never have know how nice shemlen can be, sometimes."
Avernus talked a great deal with Marethari and the other Keepers, trying to wrangle out an arrangement by which they could get some Dalish Wardens. The Keepers were reluctant to sacrifice any of their small numbers, especially since they all had some knowledge of Warden limitations. Without explicitly revealing any secrets, Avernus gave them to understand that these limitations were no longer an issue.
"Nor would we be averse to the Dalish Warden returning to their clans afterward," he said. "Why should the Dalish not have the advantage of Warden protection and skills?"
And so it went. They passed through South Reach, and consulted there with Arl Bryland, who was very interested to learn that the young Warden had found some help. He even invited them all to dinner, hoping ultimately to have a Warden or two among his own people.
"It would be useful, I don't deny," he said. "Knowing the darkspawn are over the next rise would make a huge difference. And where are you from, Warden Avernus?"
"From West Hill, actually," replied the old man. "Of course, that was a long time ago, my lord."
"Of course. You must have seen quite a bit of Thedas in the meantime."
"Oh, yes, my lord: mostly the Free Marches and Nevarra. I spent a bit of time in Weisshaupt. Nothing compares with home, though."
The arl was sympathetic. "It's very good of you to come so far at this time in your life."
Avernus' look of mild and modest virtue was a masterpiece, in its way. Hawke hardly knew whether to laugh or throw up.
* * *
Loghain, of course, would be far tougher prospect. Suspicious of everyone, he would be naturally even more suspicious of Avernus. The old man, understanding this, had carefully crafted a plausible timAstride, complete with dates he could rattle forth at a moment's notice.
It was raining heavily when their party arrived in Lothering. Hawke told the sentry to notify Teyrn Loghain of his return, and they were directed to the Wardens' tent, a little east of the central fortifications. There were introductions. There was laughter and back-slapping, even some blushing, as Alistair and Alyson confirmed they were a couple now. Inevitable, Hawke supposed, with the two of them alone, sharing a tent. Morrigan did not laugh, blush, or slap anyone on the back, but did roll her eyes frequently.
They put up two more tents, and Hawke and Avernus spoke quickly and to the purpose with Alistair and Alyson. They would be given the new potion immediately after supper that night.
Very soon, Hawke was summoned into the teyrn's presence, with the demand for the attendance of Warden Avernus. The old man was amused by it all.
"Ah, so I am once again to rub elbows with the great and powerful. How I have not missed it."
Hawke could hardly blame him for his attitude. No sooner were they in the Regent's presence than the inquisition began.
"Yes," Avernus eventually recounted, "I left Ferelden in Blessed seventy-four. I had just escaped from the Circle—again—and the Templars were everywhere. My family was gone: wiped out by the Orlesians. There seemed no hope and no future anywhere, so I decided I could either take service in Orzammar or Join the Wardens. I decided I liked seeing the sun sometimes, so it was the latter."
Loghain fixed him with a narrow stare that did not disturb Avernus in the least. "So you're from West Hill, you say."
"I am indeed from West Hill, my lord. The village of Coningsby."
"Which no longer exists."
Avernus gave the teyrn a look of gentle rebuke for his insensitivity. "I am all too aware of that, my lord."
Hawke stared at the floor, trying not to laugh. No village meant no records to check. It was just so satisfying, pranking the Regent.
"And you are not from Astrid."
"Never been in Astrid in my life, my lord. I met quite a few Orlesians at Weisshaupt, of course. No denying that. Frightfully stuck-up lot. The post in Nevarra was far more pleasant."
"We had no forewarning of your arrival."
"It's easier to obtain forgiveness than permission, my lord. I didn't tell anyone of my decision."
"Hawke here told me that Wardens all died young."
Avernus gave Hawke an exquisitely condescending smile. "Warden Hawke is very young himself, and previously knew little of Warden lore. I'm a mage, my lord. I know how to deal with the Fade. It makes all the difference."
Loghain was still stubbornly, damnedly suspicious, but left the subject briefly to praise Hawke for the Dalish, and then was suspicious all over again when Avernus told him why Wardens were absolutely essential in fighting the darkspawn.
"So I am to believe," he said, nostrils flaring, "that only those of your order can kill an Archdemon?"
"That is the undisputable, irrefutable fact, my lord," Avernus assured him. "Or to be more precise, permanently kill the Archdemon. All sorts of people have killed Archdemons, but the pesky buggers kept coming back. Grey Wardens can put them down for good."
"Pretty convenient for you, isn't it?"
"Not at all 'convenient' for the Grey Warden who must die, my lord," Avernus replied, a hint of steel in his voice. "And yet it is so. A Grey Warden must sacrifice himself to kill an Archdemon. I see no particular advantage to that individual. Certain death is not much of a career prospect."
Loghain scowled, but restrained himself when speaking to such an aged, and therefore presumably fragile person.
"But you are here."
"I didn't have much left in the way of a future anyway, my lord."
"Hmph. Very creditable of you, I'm sure," Loghain said, in a tone that indicated that nothing Avernus did could possible be of credit to him or anyone else. Hawke found it incredibly insulting, but as they were currently making a fool of the Regent, he decided to let it pass.
Loghain stared at them a bit longer. "You're dismissed," he said finally. "I'll discuss your duties with you at the council tomorrow morning."
"Thank you, my lord," muttered Hawke, trying not to laugh out loud. Before he could hustle Avernus through the door, it was blocked by a messenger.
"My lord!" the man gasped out. "A courier from Redcliffe. Arl Howe reports that the castle is under attack by the Archdemon itself!"
Chapter 33: Hawkes Over Ferelden, Part 5
If one had to hold a fortress against the darkspawn, Redcliffe Castle was the place to do it. Two days before his message reached Loghain in Lothering, Howe briefed his officers as darkspawn marched on Redcliffe.
"We can't hold the village," Howe said briskly. "And there's no need to try. No one lives there, but the darkspawn don't know that. They're in for a nasty surprise."
A number of scouts and couriers were hidden in various sites a few miles away, primed to know the various signals the mages would send up. If Howe needed to get a message to Loghain in Lothering, some would likely get through.
Afternoon had faded to a red-tinted twilight by the time the enemy appeared. Howling darkspawn rushed down the hill into the bowl-shaped little valley that was Redcliffe village. The hurlocks were out in front, followed by the bandy-legged genlocks. Then came the mage emissaries, and after them thundered the ogres. Once down there, they milled about, confused.
Then the archers and mages on the heights above the village to the nor
th west stood up behind their earthwork fortifications and began their own attack. Arrows found their marks; magic froze Tainted bodies, and then shattered them. Ogres staggered to a halt, paralyzed, and then toppled, groaning, to the hard-packed earth. Archers kept up their steady shooting until nothing below them moved.
"Not bad," Howe remarked. " A nice little killing field. We'll try that again. Send out the scouts."
By the time a full moon rose on the scene, two more waves of darkspawn arrived, and were dealt with in a similar fashion. The second wave was more numerous and far more dangerous. Some of the darkspawn lived long enough to scale the hill and leap into the ranks sheltered behind the earthworks. Screams, blood, and knifework followed. Howe lost some men, but the darkspawn were decimated.
It hardly mattered, more were coming: a vast dark wave lit by torches and fireballs. Ogres bellowed, heaving boulders up toward the defenses. One of the boulders hit a squad of archers dead center, and rocks, shattered logs and broken bodies tumbled down the hill. There was no resisting this onslaught.
"We'll have to fall back, my lord!" shouted Captain Chase.
"Then we'd better do it now!"
The men of Amaranthine pounded up the hill, in good order, and trotted across the heavy drawbridge leading to the castle courtyard. With its position on high ground, as technically on an island at the south end of Lake Calenhad, one could completely cut Redcliffe Castle off from ground attack, by raising the drawbridge.
Rendon Howe then gave the order to do exactly that.
From his position on the battlements, he could laugh at the darkspawn. Not even the ogres could heave boulders up this high, though they were trying and failing. It was entertaining to see the boulders rolling back and crushing the enemy. Howe's soldiers and mages, on the other hand, had no problem shooting down into the teeming horde. Working together, the mages had raised a storm of ice and lightning that slaughtered scores of the monsters. As they fell, other darkspawn moved in to replace them, and they, too, were fried and frozen.
Too stupid to be dismayed, darkspawn dashed themselves against bedrock, and tried to climb up to attack their tormentors. A few scrambled up as high as fifty feet, which only made it easier to target them. Mages cast magical wisps of light down the sides of the cliffs, illuminating the squirming darkspawn below.
"Look at them!" Howe exulted to his captain. "Fish in a barrel! I can hold this castle against ten times the number! A thousand times the number! With our supplies, I can hold Castle Redcliffe forever!"
As if in answer to this boast, a curious thudding noise drew their attention. Howe frowned. It sounded something like wind filling a ship's sails, but there were no ships nearby in the dark and silent lake below.
The sound came closer, a heavy, rhythmic downstroke out of the darkness. Howe turned on the battlement, squinting to see, but only blackness was before him.
A huge, black shape was silhouetted against the moon.
"The Archdemon!" a mage screamed, wild and shrill.
Purple flames issued from the sky, blasting the courtyard gate of Redcliffe castle apart. They rolled on, inexorable, destroying the raised drawbridge and its housing. Masonry tumbled into the valley.
"Mages!" Howe roared. "Signal the scouts! Archers! Shoot that thing! Shoot it! Shoot it!"
A hissing volley of arrows flew forth at his command, but it was dark, and the Archdemon was fast.
"Watch for the flames!" shouted a sergeant, more quick-witted than the rest. "Track it that way!"
Some of the arrows found their mark, but it was not enough: not nearly enough. Mages shot their coded series of red and blue flares into the sky. By now, the lookouts must have seen them. There was no time for more; now they must fight.
A mage tried a chain-lightning spell that lit up the sky like daylight for a brief blink of time. In that moment, the Archdemon, Tainted and terrible, was seen bearing down on the battlements, straight for the furious, shouting little figure with the raised war axe.
Rendon Howe, so sure until then that he could kill anything that stood in his way, had a moment of terror before the jaws closed on him. After that, it was agony.
But his armor held somewhat, and with the strength of rage, he managed to land an axe blow on the Archdemon's snouth, shearing off a foot-long strip of bloody hide. The Archdemon threw back its head with a squeal of pain, dropping Howe. The fall broke the arl's back.
Howe blinked in disbelief, grateful for the sudden cessation of all feAstridg. He was unaware of the terrified, faithful men around him, reaching out to save him.
Darkness... I really will die! Amaranthine... Without me, Thomas can't hope to survive.
"Nathaniel..." he groaned.
Captain Chase, trying to drag him to a doorway, paused. "What's that, my lord?"
"What's he saying?" demanded Captain Lowan.
Howe liked his lips. On a thread of breath, he whispered. "My son...Nathaniel...Amaranthine..."
A crash followed as the Archdemon landed on the battlements beside them, bellowing in triumph. Chase was struck by flying debris and knocked unconscious. Lowan was seized up by the dragon and shaken like a rat. His shattered body was flung aside, flying into darkness, arcing down, down to the frenzied darkspawn far below. The Archdemon roared again, and its white, diseased eyes fixed on Howe, lying helpless. Its head moved closer, and the jaws opened once more.
"Maker spit on you!" hissed Howe, with a last burst of defiance. "Someday a man like me will kill you and your whole filthy race!"
Bones and armor crunched together, and it was over.
* * *
The good thing about travAstridg with their own wagon from Denerim was that this time there was nobody from Maric's Shield to tell tales about what the Wardens were hauling.
While they had left most of the gold at Soldier's Peak, they had brought enough for their needs, and they had also carried with them a great store of magically-maintained armor and weapons. Everyone got something. All the Wardens got embroidered grey tunics to proclaim their affiliation, which was especially handy for the mages. Hawke and Alistair had new armor. Oghren's armor was already splendid, but he was more than satisfied with a new battleaxe of silverite: eerily light and utterly lethal.
Their little band, despite the terrors facing them, was in fairly high spirits. They traveled at the vanguard, alert for darkspawn. They were so focused on darkspawn, that they were nearly oblivious to everything else.
"Wardens!" shouted a soldier. From the far right ranks a sergeant hustled a man forward.
The newcomer appeared exhausted, and was dressed in stained and ragged clothing, with a tattered, hooded cloak flung over all. His face was hidden, and he slouched along as if going to his own execution. As he reached them, he stumbled and fell flat on his face.
"Here now, is he hurt?" asked Anders, pushing his way toward the man.
"Dunno. Looks done in. Says he's got a message for Warden Alyson." The soldier shrugged, and went back to his own company.
"Let's get you on your feet." Anders gripped the man under his arm and heaved him up. The hooded fell back, and Anders dropped the man with a yell.
"Jowan! You bastard!"
Hearing the name, Alyson ran up to see.
"Jowan? Is he here? Let me get my hands on him!"
Of course, once she saw him lying in a pitiful heap on the ground, she forgot about anything other than helping him. To Anders' great disgust, she fell to her knees, smoothing his hair back from his face.
"Jowan! Are you wounded?"
Anders growled, "Alyson, this idiot nearly got you killed!"
She made a face at him. "Don't just stand there! Fix him!"
Alistair came looking, wondering where Alyson had run off to.
"Who's this? Do you know him?"
"This is Jowan," she said briskly. "Alistair, meet Jowan. Jowan, meet Alistair. Alistair and I are going to get married, if we live through this. Jowan and I," she explai
ned to Alistair, "grew up together at the Circle. He's my oldest friend."
"Er... nice to meet you," Alistair managed, peering down.
"Unnnggghh," Jowan replied, with a weak smile.
Avernus leaned over to Hawke. "Another recruit?"
Hawke shrugged, not averse to it, but wanting a chance to speak to the man himself. "Maybe."
The Wardens gathered, pulling Jowan up again, since they had to get moving, or be trampled by the ranks behind them.
"I'm all right," Jowan gasped, staggering a bit. "Been running. I saw you at a distance when you went through those hills back there, Alyson, and I had to tell you what's going on. You're going to Redcliffe, right?"
"That's where the horde is," Alyson agreed. "How did you know I was a Warden?"
"I didn't," he replied, nonplussed. "Are you?" He stared at the grey and silver tabard. "You are."
She grinned.
"Anyway," he said, "I was on the run, but when I saw you I turned back."
"Wait," Hawke interrupted. "Are you saying you came from Redcliffe?"
Jowan nodded, still breathing heavily. Avernus looked at Anders and cleared his throat. Anders clicked his tongue in annoyance, but immediately started casting healing and rejuvenation spells.
"I was there," Jowan admitted. "The Arlessa had me locked up."
Alistair was wild to know more. "You were there when everything happened? Was Frigg really an abomination?"
"I don't know about that, but I think he was the center of the problem. He only wanted to help his father, but it all went wrong. The Arlessa thought I'd done it, but I hadn't! She...tortured me... and then I was locked up in the dungeon, and they forgot about me. A few days passed and I ran out of water, and then these things wandered downstairs." He shuddered. "One of them was the jailer. His head was split, but he was walking! They couldn't get at me through the bars of my cell. I was desperate, so... I set them on fire. Then I sort of... pushed my bars away."
Dragon's Era- No Man's Land Page 47