The Last Warden

Chapter Twenty-Seven

"Your... wife?"

"And my son." Fergus sighed. "My mother and father... my little brother. Everyone that I had ever known, ever shared a smile with slaughtered. While Arl Howe was a guest in our home."

Alistair shook his head. "He said that he was the Teryn of Highever. I-I think Loghain granted it to him."

"Of that I have no doubt." His head tilted, expression almost softening as he studied him. "And what did Loghain do to you?"

"Oh you know, left the king to die. Abandoned the Grey Wardens."

"My force was small and already scouting deep in the Wilds. We arrived at Ostagar too late. But there is more... something personal." He smiled at Alistair's surprise. "We can sense our own."

"It's... like you said... about everyone that you had ever known."

Fergus nodded. "As I said, my force was small. Ostagar was overrun and we were ambushed. I found myself amongst the Chasind, under the care of their healers. When I was well enough to travel again... when I heard what had happened in Highever..." His eyes grew cold. "I had intended to see to Howe alone."

Alone. It wavered there over the man's shoulder, the boy younger but familiar, watching them with a sad smile. He had appeared some time ago, but Fergus had not noticed Alistair's distraction. Maker, he was getting good at this. Now that was an unsettling thought.

"What... what was your brother's name?"

The smile was the same, caring nothing for the strangeness of the question. "Aedan. His name was Aedan."

"And do you think... Aedan would approve?" Alistair gestured to the two guards slumped against the door. Fergus had dispatched them quickly, violently, ignoring Erlina's protests about stealth.

The vision nodded vigorously as Fergus chuckled. "My brother always was... eager. Perhaps if I had let him ride out with the advance force..." He shook his head. "But do you truly think that playing dress up will make your task easier?"

"Just... humor me."

"You only have three uniforms."

"Take mine." Zevran was already shrugging out of his overlarge breastplate, unlacing the leathers at his neck so that they looked something like a simple tunic. "Elves tend to be... overlooked. It makes certain tasks remarkably easy." He slipped an arm through Erlina's with a grin.

She scowled, bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet but Fergus acquiesced, pulling the gleaming armor over his battered and once-fine mail.

Alistair nodded. "Thank you."

Again he paused, studying him. "You are sure we have not met?"

It was the second time he had asked the question. Alistair shook his head.

"You have an... air about you. Not exactly nobility. You put people at ease."

"I think I'd prefer to be large and threatening."

He laughed. "We learn to work with what we have.... even if we have nothing. Don't underestimate it."

"Wise words, Lord Cousland."

Turning to Leliana, he seemed surprised to find the others still there. "Lord Cousland is dead. And the time for words is over."

* * *

"I don't believe it! I don't believe that actually worked!"

Erlina spun, hissing as she put a finger to her lips.

"Sorry, sorry." Alistair flushed, inching further along the wall. They had ducked into a narrow alcove that branched off of the main hallway, mercifully out of sight of any passersby. So far none had questioned them, but it didn't stop the fluttering in his stomach.

Leliana was watching him with a bemused expression.

"What? I suppose this is fun for you, is it?"

"The... costume leaves something to be desired." She raised one thick and unadorned gauntlet, turning it so that it caught the light. "But yes."

"Glad someone's enjoying themselves." Turning, he stopped short. The passage ended abruptly in an arching door, but it shimmered at the edges, a faint haze wavering on the air.

It was to this that Erlina leaned, calling through the barrier. "My Lady. I have brought help."

"Thank the Maker!" The voice was muffled, distorted.

Alistair quirked a brow. "You didn't say anything about magic."

"Who is that?"

"He is a Grey Warden, My Lady."

"A Grey Warden?" The surprise was short lived, her tone again taking on a ringing air of command. "Good. I'm sure my handmaiden has informed you of my predicament. Arl Howe has a mage in his employ and it is his work that you see before you."

Right. Magic. He could do this. He had been trained to do this. Shutting his eyes, Alistair breathed deep.

"Hello? What is going on out there?"

"The Warden is... sleeping, My Lady. Quivering. I do not know."

Alistair opened one eye. "I'm not sleeping. I'm trying to cleanse the area – you know – dispel the barrier?"

"You are a mage, then?"

"No... I-I'm a templar. Or I was. Almost."

"Warden, are you going to do something useful or will I have to rescue myself?"

He glared at the barrier. "Do you want to stay in there? You're not exactly in a position to be picky."

After a moment, he heard her sigh. "The man is a powerful mage. I know of only one way to break the spell."

"Ask him nicely? I hate to tell you this, princess, but that's not exactly likely."

"I am your queen. And I do not care how you do it, so long as it gets done."

"Great. Wonderful." Apparently it was possible to loathe a disembodied voice. He looked to Erlina. "Do you know where we might find this mage?"

"He will be with Howe. He spends much of his time in the dungeons."

"Maker's breath, why?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Some questions are better left unasked. But you will find the entrance down the hall and to your left."

"You're not coming?"

She glared. "My place is here."

"Right. Has anyone ever told you that you and your mistress make a great pair? No? Too bad."