The Last Warden

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Warden."

Alistair turned from hammering the stakes of his tent, almost smiling to see Oghren there. Almost. He hadn't smiled much since Redcliff. But for once the dwarf's face was solemn, his eyes flitting round the camp. They were perhaps only a day's march from Denerim, the army making better time than he would have expected.

"Can we walk?"

Alistair straightened. Whatever it was might actually be serious, but he was grateful for the distraction. Together, they followed the perimeter of the advance camp, silent but for the distant shouts of the men in the larger camps beyond. Sten would be among them, Leliana as well.

He had not been able to find her that last night in Redcliff, but he had spotted her talking with Wynne and Teagan on the road. As far as he could tell, she was camping amongst the Dalish, giving him as wide a berth as she could. Morrigan too had disappeared that night, not even bothering to dress before shifting into a dog and bolting from the castle.

It had been a quiet journey, a lonely one.

Oghren was watching him, he realized, but his thoughts were obviously his own. After a time, he coughed, wiping a hand across his mouth. "So... uh... I was thinking."

"Yeah?"

"About this whole Warden thing."

Alistair stopped, blinking down at him. "What about it?"

"Hard soddin' deal you got there. I'll bet you're wishin' they'd told you about that archdemon bit when you signed up, huh?"

"H-How do you know about that?"

For once the dwarf looked almost sheepish. "I... err, I mighta been listening. Back in Redcliff."

"You—" The thought occurred to him suddenly. "Have you told anyone else?"

"Ain't my secret to tell. Might not be a bad idea to tell yer woman, though. They really go for that whole hero thing."

"She-she's not my..."

"Ah. Ain't forgiven you yet?"

"Don't tell me you were listening to—"

Chuckling, he held up a hand. "Nah. But one runs off, one avoids you. 'S obvious enough."

"Great."

"You've got problems I don't envy. But, well..."

"What?"

Oghren shook himself, hand straying to his belt flask before curling indecisive at his side. "That Riordan... what he said at the Landsmeet... well, it just... it just seems to me you Wardens need all the help you can get."

Alistair gaped. "Wait, you—?"

"Wanna be a Warden?" He snorted, smirking as he ran a hand through his beard. "Yeh, yeh I guess I do. I mean, why not?"

"'Why not?'"

"You take poor sods down on their luck, those who've got nothing else. You give 'em a purpose, point 'em at the fight. I can think of worse things to be."

"But you, you..." Alistair trailed off, studying him. "You're sure? I mean, there's nothing else you want to... you know, do?"

Oghren raised his eyes, looking away to the west. After a long moment, he shook his head. "Nah. Nothing more fun than this, anyway."

"Fun. Right." Starting toward Riordan's tent, Alistair kept one eye on the dwarf. "You do know that the Joining can be fatal, right? That you have to drink darkspawn blood? Archdemon blood?"

"Heh. Don't you worry, Warden. Never met a cup I couldn't beat."

They found Riordan struggling to unfurl his bedroll. Well, not struggling exactly. Pinning it down with one knee, he worked the straps between his hand and teeth, sitting back with a triumphant chuckle. Alistair had had plenty of opportunities to ask what he planned to do in the fight, but had always found a reason to hold his tongue.

"Riordan."

The old Warden glanced up at them, coming slowly to his feet. "Alistair. And... I apologize, but I have forgotten your companion's name."

"Oghren." The dwarf wiped his hand against his breeches before offering it to the man. "Ya still got that blood?"

Riordan quirked a brow.

"He... he wants to be a Warden."

"Does he?" He looked to Alistair. "And you have explained the risks? All of them?"

"I... yeah..."

"And you are certain that he is—"

"Way I figure it, you can't exactly afford to be choosy now, can ya? Three chances to kill the thing are better'n two." Oghren snorted. "Three chances to be a soddin' hero."

Alistair sighed. "Please tell me you're not just doing this to impress women."

"Eh? Now that's not a bad idea. Whatsay we get this over with and you and me go down to the camps? The Warrior Caste has got some of the finest and filthiest—"

"No. No I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yerself."

Looking between them, Riordan shook his head. "I was able to save some of the darkspawn blood from our last encounter. The ritual should take me only a moment to prepare. I only regret that it must be done with such haste, under such circumstances."

"Do I look like I need a buncha fancy rituals?"

"It's not complicated. There are a few words that must be said." Alistair smirked down at the dwarf. "Serious words. Then you just... well... you drink a little blood, you choke on it, you pass out."

"Heh. Sounds like my kinda party."