Chapter 28: Plans and Tactics: The Miles From Home

“Rav!”

He turned at the unexpected child-like voice. “Beth?”

A mousy, plain woman rushed up to him, her arms full with scrolls and map cases. Nessa’s mother. Raviathan had forgotten her parents had signed up to work for the army. “Here. Let me help,” Raviathan said, lifting the map cases slung over her shoulder.

“I never expected to see you here, especially after the last contingent arrived a week ago. How long have you been here?”

“Arrived just this morning,” Raviathan said, trotting to keep up with her brisk pace across the camp.

“Rav, you have to hurry. You’ll get switched. This morning? But ... there haven’t been any new men. Don’t tell me you came on your own. You’ll want to get out of that armor before you draw too much attention.”

“Don’t worry about getting switched. Anyone who gives you trouble, tell them you were on Grey Warden business.”

She cast him a nervous glance. “Don’t lie. Ever,” she whispered. “They’ll cut your rations on top of a beating.”

Heat flooded Raviathan’s face. “Point out any shem that beats you, and I’ll strip their skin off.”

“Rav! What’s gotten into you?”

Glancing around and finding no one paying attention to them, Raviathan took Beth by the elbow and led her to a secluded bench. “Calm. Beth, I don’t want to worry you. Nessa is fine, but Denerim is not as you left it.”

Her hand covered her mouth as she took his pain in. “Speak.”

Raviathan held her hand in both his own. “Remember, Nessa is unharmed.” He took a breath, holding it before he relayed the events that lead to his conscription. She gasped, the blood draining from her already pale face to leave her looking ghostly. He leaned in, whispering, “No one here knows I’m the one who killed Vaughan. Word is that the elves who attacked were killed. I thought you had a right to know about your daughter, but please, Beth.”

Tears pricked her eyes, but she nodded in understanding for his plea for secrecy. “My baby girl. To think what could have happened.”

Her tears started to fall, her breath coming in jerks. Raviathan put an arm around her shoulders and pressed his lips to her temple. “She’s alright. She’s alright, Beth. Not a scratch. With Vaughan gone, there’s no one who would hurt her.”

She leaned into him, her worries of switching temporarily forgotten. Her pain came quickly, but she recovered just as quickly. She wiped her face, her breathing becoming regular. “Oh, sweetheart. Thank you for protecting my baby.”

He gave her a squeeze, kissing her hair. “Of course.”

She pulled away, her hand going up to cup his cheek with an expression of pure sorrow. “I’m sorry for what it cost you.”

Unable to hold her gaze, Raviathan cast his eyes downward. When he spoke, his voice sounded like gravel grinding. “I don’t want to think of her.”

She patted his knee. “Of course.” Beth took a shaky breath, the act cleaning out much of her troubles, then took hold of his hands. “A Grey Warden, Rav. I’ve heard there’s a elf in the Grey Wardens. You’ll be the second here. That’s quite an achievement. You do us proud.”

The small smile he gave her held no humor. “I don’t know that Claye would agree. Not to disparage your husband. He’s a good man, but he never thought much of me.”

“Oh, he’s just old fashioned. Hard parents and became a parent himself late. Gives him a different way a viewing things, but he always saw your value to the alienage. Never said a word against you. Life is going to be a lot harder without you there.”

He squeezed her hands at the sentiment but had no words, not of comfort or denial. She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I keep thinking that I might have lost my baby. That I’d never get to tell her I love her again.”

After last night, Raviathan understood that sentiment as he never had before when he almost crossed the Veil. His father and cousins might get word months after his death. He thought of Shianni, sitting like a broken doll on her bed, untouchable. The faces of his cousins and the children Raviathan had cared for over the years flashed through his mind. Not only would they not have him to rely on, in death all possibility would be gone as well. It was one thing to lose a cousin to the Circle, another to have that cousin die. With him as a Warden, they had hope that one of their own could become someone important. Death made their own lives more finite. Finally, Raviathan thought of his father. There was so much that went unsaid between them. How would his father fair knowing he was the sole survivor? No wife, no children.

Mortality was not something Raviathan had to face for himself, but there were enough moments that he recognized the value of his life. Now though, he thought of the world as his father must see it. How horrible to lose your only child. His father had loved children, had wanted grandchildren as much as Raviathan had wanted a child. Raviathan couldn’t imagine what it would be like to see his own child, a little life that he had cared and nurtured for years, walk away to fates unknown. He could almost see his father’s face when he got the news that his son had died, the lines growing deeper, the sorrow in his father’s blue eyes as he lived out his remaining years alone. Raviathan saw his father sitting at the table, staring into his cup of wine held in both gnarled hands as night fell, a caring man left in solitude during the long, dark hours of his remaining life.

“Beth?” Raviathan’s voice was still hoarse, the weight of emotion scratching this throat. “Let’s make a promise to each other. If something happens to one of us, we look after the other’s family. I’ll make sure Nessa has a good match. You care for my father. Make sure he eats. Make sure he isn’t alone.”

Her hands squeezed his, and he closed his eyes against the tears that threatened. Even so, he could feel the slight waver of his chin. The last weeks of strain, the lack of sleep, the attack last night, the echoing pain of one lost who was to be by his side were all too much. Perhaps after the battle he would get the rest he needed so badly.

“You promise to give my love to Nessa,” Beth said. “Tell her how much she meant to us. That we did this so she could have a better future. That we love her.”

“I will.”

“It’s a good promise then. You take care of Nessa. Give her our love. We’ll take care of Cyrion.” She stroked his cheek. “I’ll make sure he knows how much you loved him. I know you had your differences, but we all knew that underneath that you both cared for each other deeply.” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Promise.”

“Promise. Thank you, Beth.”

They sat for a moment, heads leaning against each other in silent security as they collected their emotions. Though they had never been particularly close, Raviathan could feel himself reaching for the comfort of the familiar. Just being with another elf was soothing. Beth understood his troubles without words in a way a human never could.

Beth gave a little laugh to break the weight of emotion. “There are elves here from so many different parts of Ferelden. Elves from Denerim I haven’t seen in ages since they moved to work in the castle or for a noble family or left for marriages. At night when work is done, it’s been great fun catching up with news, trading stories, and singing. I expect you’ll be with the Grey Wardens, but you should come visit when you have a chance. They’ll all be so excited. A Grey Warden. I can hardly believe it myself.”

A bit of sad humor did touch Raviathan’s smile then. “Half the time I can’t believe it either.”

“Come.” Light, nervous laughter rang out from Beth. “I still have duties, but I can introduce you to a few of the others.”

The wide corridor of ruins she led him through stood high enough to block out the sun. Only the tips of the tallest pines touched the weak sunlight. “I feel so tiny here. Like a dormouse scampering through a castle.”

Beth quickly hushed her twitter of a laugh. “I felt the same. Work keeps us so busy I don’t notice anymore. So strange here. With all these trees, I keep thinking about the Dalish.”

“Are they around here?”

“We’ve heard rumors, but nothing more. I wasn’t even sure they were real, but the soldiers from Gwaren talk about them. Whatever Dalish used to be here have all moved north to get away from the darkspawn. Oh Maker, I never thought I’d actually see a darkspawn. Gives me nightmares.” Her voice quavered as she hurried to meet the other elves working at the end of the corridor. “We used to be afraid of guards, but now, they’re the only thing between us and the horde.”

How helpless the elves were here, thought Raviathan. They were subject to the whims of a lord back in Denerim or prey for street thieves, but here the threat wasn’t something they could hide from. If the darkspawn broke through, the most the elves could do was run. There was no way for his people to defend themselves, and from what Raviathan remembered of the shrieks, running was fruitless.

A great wooden table dominated the back of the wide hall. A few elves scurried about, cleaning the area of branches and debris, setting up rough covering in case of rain, bringing forth chests or refreshments. Beth whispered, “This is where the king, generals, and advisers meet.”

One elf, a man with hair the ranging color of redwood bark, glanced at Raviathan before doing a double take and staring. The others took note and soon they were all watching. He heard ‘Dalish’ murmured.

“This is Rav,” Beth said after depositing the scrolls and maps on the table. “He’s from my alienage.”

The others gathered around to form a circle and introduced themselves, a simple act of inclusion that made Raviathan ache in homesickness. How he had missed being with his own people with their shared understanding. The pain of being with them was like the ache of healing.

“I thought for sure you were a Dalish,” the redheaded man said. “Are you a soldier?”

“He’s Warden-Commander Duncan’s newest recruit,” Beth said, taking his arm and smiling. His position, that they were acquainted, and from the same alienage would add to her prestige among the group. Raviathan leaned closer to Beth so their shoulders touched, letting her have her moment.

One woman clapped a hand over her open mouth at the news. “I’d heard the king say there was to be no more switching of elves.” She glanced around at the rest when she became the focus of the circle. “Quartermaster was complaining about an elf who pulled a knife on him, and the king laughed. Thought it was funny, then said it was his royal command that elves not be switched or abused. That was you, wasn’t it?”

“I ... yes.” Raviathan was stunned. “The king,” what should he say? Favors him? “The king supports the Wardens.”

“Maker, he didn’t do that for Tarimel,” a dark haired elf with a long face said.

Noticing the dark looks the others sent each other at the mention of Tarimel, Raviathan said, “I’ve heard there was another elf in the Grey Wardens.”

In her high, quiet voice, Beth said, “We don’t know him. We’ve invited him to join us for an evening, but he avoids us.”

“At first we thought he was like that just with us, like maybe he’s an outcast or something,” the redhead added. “But he’s the same with the soldiers, and from what we can tell, the other Wardens too.”

An elf who stayed away from the group? Weird. If Tarimel was an outcast, they would be able to tell at once as his ears would have been docked to mark him. Raviathan wondered about this elf’s unnatural behavior. They would be the only two, and if there was something wrong with Tarimel, Raviathan was going to have a difficult time ignoring him.

Conversation continued on, the others chatting or exchanging gossip, especially who to avoid or places to hide.

“Stay away from the lunch soup. The cook is trying to hide the spoiled meat in it.”

“Jenner is going to play the lute tonight. He said he learned a new song from one of the soldiers from Gwaren.”

“Those Ash Warriors give me the creeps. The way they stare. One of them spit on me this morning.”

“There’s an abandoned cathedral near the back of the fortress. Hop behind the wall and no one will see you if you need to get away.”

“One of the scouting parties said they found Dalish arrows in a dead blight wolf east of here. To think the Dalish were so close.”

More than the words, Raviathan listened to the continuous ebb of voices flowing to his ears like the soothing sound of river water. The elves grew more comfortable, smiles and jokes becoming easier. Eyes flashed lavender and green, in blues of sky and lapis, making the elves real to Raviathan in a way humans couldn’t be. Their emotions were clear and true, not clouded behind the smaller, dull eyes of humans. Only Duncan was excluded from Raviathan’s comparison. That human had proved himself, his eyes holding warmth in Raviathan’s memory.

“Hey, you bloody, lazy knife ears!”

The elves all turned at the booming voice. Conversation cut off with the abruptness of a snapping branch. All except Raviathan immediately scurried away to their duties, their heads down and backs slouched.

“The King said no switching, but I can find other punishments for you!” The speaker was a burly man in rough, scarred armor. His wiry black beard obscured most of his face, but a large nose that bore the brunt of multiple breakings dominated the rest.

Mouth thinned, Raviathan watched as his fellows were cowed, their shoulders bent, making themselves small in order to be less of a target, doing all they could not to draw the shem’s attention. Raviathan glared up at the shem, ready to pull his weapons given an opportunity.

The shem opened his mouth, offense at a rebellious elf sharpening his gaze, but a humorless smile formed instead. One of his teeth was broken, leaving a sharp spike in his crooked mouth. “Warden.”

If Raviathan was reading him correctly, the shem wasn’t going to overstep his bounds in an official capacity, certainly not to defy the king, but Raviathan would be a fool to press the man. The taskmaster was ready for an opportunity to embarrass him if possible. The shem was overconfident, like many of his ilk who thought size alone determined the victor. One confrontation for the day was enough. Anymore and Raviathan would be labeled a troublemaker. Deciding the threat of his apparent influence with the king would be enough, Raviathan stood coolly watching the human, measuring and cataloging any slights. The bluff was enough it seemed as the taskmaster yelled and blustered but went no further, not even threats.

Influence with the king certainly had its perks. Raviathan had heard from other elves about sycophants who clung to nobles, how some nobles were more susceptible to sugared tongues. Now that Raviathan had some distance from his meeting with the king, he could reflect on what had happened with a clearer head. He had seen enough lust from shems to recognize that look, but he hadn’t seen that in Cailan despite the king calling him ‘pretty’. There was Cailan’s love of Wardens, and while that was what had probably set Raviathan apart from the other elves at the camp, the king’s fascination seemed more personal. Did Cailan want a pet like the queen had? An elf to be a companion, spy, and confidant? A pretty creature to make himself look good, like a well bred dog at his heels? What other use would the king have for him?

Why did humans have to constantly call him pretty anyway, Raviathan groused to himself.

Ignoring the shem’s continued grumblings, Raviathan looked over the table covered with paper and canvas. Stones resting on the corners kept the items in place, but Raviathan was surprised to see scribbles and colors on the canvases. He hadn’t known what to expect, lists and such, but not what looked like childishly squiggled lines. Raviathan recognized the letters printed randomly on the scribbled pictures but not the words they formed. Some of the canvases were quite old, stained and fraying at the edges. A finely embossed leather picture bore scars like a thrashed slave. One had splatters of blood and a knife shaped hole starring unblinkingly at the fog cloaked day.

“You’re the new Warden, I presume,” a hoarse voice sounded. Though restrained, the underlining power of the speaker carried through the hall.

Raviathan glanced up to see a large human in shining silverite armor in a style he hadn’t seen before. Long black hair framed a lined face that bore the brunt of a few scars that had turned livid with age. Despite the dark circles under the lord’s eyes, his pale blue gaze pierced with an aspect that was more wolf than human. Heavy brows and a dominating nose gave force to the man’s face. This man had an aura that commanded instant respect. Where Cailan was a boy wearing a king’s armor, and Arl Eamon seemed a man more at home in a throne room meriting out laws and judgments, this noble was most at peace on a battlefield.

Realizing he was staring, Raviathan blinked and straightened. “Yes, ser.” He struggled not to fidget as the lord continued to watch him. Wardens probably didn’t fidget. Nope, no fidgeting, no matter how much he felt like a mouse with a wolf’s attention pinned on him. At least the taskmaster had left so Raviathan didn’t have to see the shem laughing at his discomfort.

“You don’t look Dalish. You’re a city elf then?”

“I am. From Denerim.” Just who was this man? No doubt the noble would take such an inquiry as an insult. Normally Raviathan wouldn’t have cared who this shem was, but considering the noble’s intimidating aura, he decided a little checking was in order. “I’m surprised so many people recognize me.”