From the Ashes: Glimmers of Change (ch. 25) (Patreon)

“You are a saarebas,” Sten accused me as if I had deceived him. I noticed that he waited until he was armed to do so -- a large two-handed blade that he handled with ease and the utmost contempt. Finding armor for him was going to be difficult, but he didn’t seem to mind. Seemed to prefer it, really. We were readying the horses for the trip to Honnoleth to collect the golem before heading to Redcliff since it would only be a small detour. When we got to Redcliff, Elissa and her forces would have arrived and we could meet the Arl that would shift the political situation for us.

“Here I thought I was an elf all these years. Thank you for telling me, Sten. I never would have figured it out without your astute eye,” I responded, throwing myself up on the back of Argo, my horse. Not the name the stablemaster gave him, nor was it the more primitive names that wild animals preferred.

Sten scowled at me, “You are a mage. You are dangerous,” he accused me, narrowing his eyes.

I smiled at him, “As are you, I imagine. Eight murdered, in addition to the children, was it?” I asked him. Sten’s lips thinned ever so slightly, the only hint that the remark struck home. “Don’t worry. I’m not exactly able to throw stones on that account. Glass houses ‘n all. But, if it is any comfort to you, me being a mage is by far the least dangerous thing about me.”

“It’s not,” Sten answered, his tone flat.

“A shock of the ages,” I returned, my tone equally flat. It said a lot about how freakishly huge the guy was that upon a horse, I was still less than a head taller than him. “I’m a mage. I use magic. I also like using magic. Illusions are my specialty. You can’t ever be sure if you’re actually speaking to me or if I’m ten feet behind you.”

Sten scowled, “I would know.” He declared, his tone so damn full of certainty that I just had to do it. Might be dangerous, but I had to.

I dropped Phantasmal Force, a spell I cast on him the moment we started to get ready, revealing the fact that he had, in fact, been speaking to empty air. His eyes widened, his normally stoic face displaying surprise as I shifted Argo into the position that he thought I had been in a moment before. I cast the spell as a precaution -- I heard tales about the Qunari. Everyone had. The ones that stuck me the most was that they cut the tongue out of their mages mouths before sewing their lips shut.

“Now,” I spoke, a deadly edge in my voice as I gazed into Sten’s eyes, “Am I really in front of you? Or was me disappearing the illusion and the me currently speaking to you is also a trick of the light? Or maybe you’re still in that damn cage and all of this has been a series of false sensations and sights to convince you that you’ve been freed?” I questioned him, making him doubt his own mind in a way that was practiced.

Well practiced.

“You won’t know, Sten,” I told him, my tone blunt and unyielding. “You won’t until I know I can trust you at my back. I don’t care that you're a murderer. Don’t care that you’re a Qunari either. What I care about is what follows; that you will protect the members of the group, that you will follow orders, and that you can work with those you personally find distasteful. Is that understood?”

I expected pushback. In the end, no one liked to be put in their place. No one liked the idea that their mind wasn’t their own. A strong hand was needed, though. Sten hadn’t eaten or drank anything in about sixteen days, stuffed in a cage that was several sizes too small, and I can’t imagine he got a lot of sleep in that time either. All the same, he ripped darkspawn apart and he was unyielding.

Sten was a strong personality. May not be the most outspoken or ambitious, and he did seem to have an air of honorability about him. All the same, he was unyielding. May not contest every order he didn't agree with, but he would contest my decisions eventually. For those reasons, I needed to put my foot down to make sure that he understood that I was in charge.

Instead of pushback, I thought I saw a glimmer of respect in Sten’s eyes. Just intermingled with all the anger and being royally pissed that I fucked with his head. “It is understood,” he decided, offering a nod to me. I urged my horse forward, giving him an open shot at my back, but he seemed to notice what I was doing and chose not to take a swing.

Good. Glad that was sorted out. “Load up, Sten. We have a long few days ahead of us,” I told him, glancing at the others. Leliana watched the exchange, her brows drawn together with concern. Theron seemed annoyed, but Alistair seemed to approve. Morrigan, at the moment, was a raven flying high above us. I hadn’t seen her take the form, but she made sure that I knew it was her.

Leliana rode a reddish brown horse that she affectionately named Aveline, after the first female Chevaliare since she rode a mare. Alistair rode a tan horse he named Hooves. Sten rode a black warhorse, the only one that could seat him, Horse. Not particularly creative, that one. Theron hadn’t named his yet, and I doubt that he would. Still, with an extra horse trailing behind us, our departure was quickly noticed by everyone else. If not because of Alistair and my armor, then because of Sten. There were a few spitting on the ground as they watched him go.

Elissa Cousland was on the edge of the village, seated upon her own horse. She had tidied up rather well -- her hair was braided into a tight bun on the back of her head, and if she wasn’t getting enough sleep, then she was using makeup to cover it up. She spurred her horse forward, “You will likely meet Arl Eammon before we do. Do prepare him for our arrival, would you? He needs to know what he’s getting into. With his influence, this civil war shall be a short one.”

“Will do,” I responded, accepting the task. It was only natural. I would be certainly sour if someone dropped four hundred people into my lap and expected me to take care of them without any kind of warning. “You'll need to evacuate soon. The horde is coming up the imperial highway, and that leads straight to Lothering."

Elissa shook her head, "We cannot entirely abandon the south. Lothering will not be where we make our stand, but we can't give the darkspawn the imperial highway without a fight. I've already sent messages to the southern Bannorn to fortify the towns on or near the highway. It won't stop the darkspawn from slipping through, but it'll give us a presence in southern Ferelden." Her tone was grave, her hands tightening around the reigns.

We both knew what the plan meant. Elissa intended to trade lives in exchange for time. The darkspawn would be attracted to the cities on the highway that were packed with refugees and Elissa intended to take advantage of that fact to marshal another army out of the southern Arlings and Bannorn. Even if everything went perfectly -- it wouldn't -- but if it did, then there would still be towns that would be left to the nonexistent mercy of the darkspawn.

"Understood. Good luck. Between the darkspawn and Loghain, I think you'll need it more than me," I remarked, urging my horse forward and earning a grim chuckle from Elissa. Alistair and her met gazes, trading nods as they rode past each other.

And, with that, we left Lothering behind us to continue into Honnoleth. The first day of travel was tense as we all traveled in silence, our eyes on the treeline, searching for another band of darkspawn. The horde was already sending up scouts and laying ambushes. I did think that Elissa was being a little optimistic about her hopes to control the highway as well. Especially when there were deep roads to consider.

We set up camp late in the afternoon. Despite Morrigan's protests, she did end up having to share a tent with Leliana since the guys' tent wasn't large enough to fit me, Theron, Alistair, and now Sten. For better or for worse, Theron and I were sharing a tent while Alistair and Sten shared the other.

They were arranged around a central bonfire that I created with a snap of my fingers. Sten didn't do much as flinch away at the magic but he did shy away from it. Shifts were divided up -- Leliana, Morrigan, and Sten got a full night's rest, and between me, Alistair and Theron, we each had three hour shifts on guard. I was used to not getting a lot of sleep, but Alistair and Theron insisted.

It was as we were all going to settle in that Alistair pulled the two of us aside. "Things have been a bit hectic, and Theron, you were asleep until after Ostagar, but I wanted you two to have these," Alistair said, presenting us each with a necklace on an iron chain with a small amethyst or jade hanging off of it. "They're momentos, I guess you could call them. Inside is a drop of blood. To remind us of those that didn't make it this far." As he spoke, he tugged up on a band around his neck to reveal a similar necklace with what looked like amber.

"All Grey Wardens have them," Alistair explained.

Hm. "Thanks. I think," I decided, putting the pendant on. Theron frowned at his before doing the same. "Now that we have a moment alone, I don't suppose you could start spilling all of the Grey Warden secrets?"

"I would if I could," Alistair admitted, his tone pained. "But I was only a Grey Warden for six months. You have to be one for at least three before you're trusted with any of the major secrets. And you have to be the Warden Commander to know the really important ones. But…"

"But?" Theron echoed, his eyes narrowing.

Alistair shifted where he stood, the three of us off to the side speaking in low tones. "Duncan wasn't supposed to tell me this, but he thought I should know. Grey Wardens don't get old. The taint doesn't kill us immediately, not like it does everyone else, but it will get us eventually. Duncan said that thirty years is the average, but some could make it to forty… while some only make it ten. There's no way to know."

So, best estimate was that I died of the taint at the age of fifty-seven? The average forty-seven… or twenty-seven. Fuck me.

"It starts with dreams -- like the ones you had when you first joined. They get worse and worse… until you start hearing the song. That's when a Grey Warden knows it's his time. Everyone says their goodbyes, and then the Grey Warden goes into the deep roads. Alone. To kill as many darkspawn as they can before dying." Alistair continued, "We call it the Calling."

Theron was shaking his head, an expression of distress on his face. "This was no cure at all," Theron spat at Alistair, making him flinch. "If I had known that… I… I would…" Theron started, his voice growing thick with emotion before he sharply turned away and stomped to the tent. Alistair watched him go, his expression pained.

His gaze slid to me, a question in his eyes. I offered a shrug in response, "I'm a street king in Denerim, Alistair. Got a lot of concerns, but growing old was never one of them," I told him. I could tell that didn't really reassure him. "But, if it's all the same to you, I'll take first watch. Get some time to… process."

"For what it's worth, no one finds out until after. If people knew… well, no one would want to become a Grey Warden," Alistair remarked, his voice said as he made his way to his tent. I took a seat on a log that was going to be tossed into the fire at some point.

I gazed into the fire for a long while, thinking about nothing in particular for most of it. My hand drifted up to my neck, tracing the scar I gave myself.

That had been the last time I had really been afraid to die, I reckon. Everything that came after -- attacking a band of avvar and slavers, spending a month in the wilderness, finding a random ass bear in a cave, everything that happened in Denerim… there had been fear, sure. Wasn't like I was immune to it. But, I hadn't been afraid to die.

And I wasn't afraid now.

"Sucks to suck, I guess," I muttered, tossing a stick into the fire that cackled, the moisture in the stick bubbling out. Everyone was always dying. I was just doing it a bit faster than everyone else. Part of me wasn't even surprised -- my body was faster, stronger, and more enduring. I drank darkspawn blood mixed with something else. It wouldn't make sense if a larger appetite was all that had changed.

So, the news washed over my back with little fanfare. It was what it was. It just meant that I needed to be conscious of my time -- the elven kingdom would need to be established sooner. I would need to take greater risks. Make compromises that I might have not needed to beforehand. The kingdom needed to outlive me. There was no point if I was the only one propping it up and Orlais invaded as soon as I died.

Theron, however, took it much harder, I saw when he slipped out of the tent in the dead of the night. He was armored, carrying his possessions, and his expression was set when he saw me watching him. Our eyes met, and I guess he was at the tipping point. I inclined my head to him before I looked at the fire, and wordlessly, Theron walked away from our camp.

I couldn't really blame him in this case. He became a Warden to save his own life. Going back to his clan was all that he wanted, and learning that his time was limited? That he was still dying, if only a lot slower than he had been? It was far harder to condemn him for leaving than it would be because he just didn't want to be here with us.

The moons made their journey across the sky and I found that I wasn't tired, so I decided to stay up through the night and let Alistair sleep in. The dawn came, light streaming through the trees and brightening up the sky.

Sten was the first one up. Shockingly. He left the tent, his eyes narrowing at me. "The other Warden was not awakened for his guard duty. Why?" He asked me, his voice a low growl -- annoyed, but he wasn't trying to wake anyone up.

"I don't need a lot of sleep," I answered with a small shrug. I only got a handful of hours every other day to begin with. Since becoming a Warden, I found that even staying up all night didn't leave me feeling tired.

Sten grunted before he started stretching and doing exercises. I watched him go about a morning ritual that seemed well practiced before he settled down and began to sharpen his sword. It was past dawn at that point and the rhythmic sound seemed to stir the others. Morrigan and Leliana were up second, the former glaring at the latter for one reason or another. Alistair slept in the longest before he exited the tent, bleary-eyed and rubbing gunk out.

"Wah… it's morning? What about me and Theron's watch?" He questioned, looking like a big kid as he left his tent.

"Theron-" I started before Alistair looked over at the treeline, prompting me to do the same. I was surprised to see Theron approaching the camp with a deer sling over his shoulders.

"Brought breakfast," Alistair finished for me, his mouth watering at the sight. "Can someone cook? You don't want me doing it. Everything I touch ends up turning gray and bland."

Theron met my gaze before he nodded at me. I returned the nod.

If anyone noticed that he went out hunting with all of his possessions, then they didn't say anything about it. Breakfast was roasted venison complete with bread. A rather heavy meal, but what wasn't used was salted and dried before being shoved into my bag.

We loaded up before continuing our journey to Honnoleth, stepping off of the highway to dirt paths that were well walked. We passed through a number of villages Connelmore, Edison's Folly, and Freystead -- each village was of varying sizes, but they were already shrinking as people began to flee north. To Redcliff or Lothering. Some were even trying for Edgehall.

The sparse forests gave way to farmland, then to hills. Following the path up them, we caught sight of Honnoleth by late evening. It was a village situated at the top of a hill, a palisade up around it with a dirt road circling the hill to get up to the village. It was oddly… militaristic, I noticed. Though, that could just be because of the avvar. Peaking above the palisade looked to be a tall tower of sorts -- not huge, but a good five stories. Not something I’ve seen in a village before.

We trudged up the path, the gate to the palisade was already open. The village had dirt walls and fine stone houses lined with wood. There were children playing hopscotch near the gate, looking up at us with wide eyes. Children really were innocent creatures because they ran up to us without anything resembling fear. One of them called out, “Hullo! Mother! Mother! He’s got a griffon on his chest!”

I stopped at the entrance of the village, my eyes scanning over it. The ruckus drew the attention of wayward villagers, and I heard Leliana chuckling warmly as she was quickly pestered with questions alongside Alistair. I went ignored, as did Theron. Though, the latter seemed more out of fear on account of his tattoos. The villagers quickly mustered up with the type of reaction that told me that they didn’t often receive visitors.

To my surprise, it was a man in his late to mid twenties that approached first, the spokes person for the village, “Greetings! What brings you to Honnoleth, Grey… Wardens,” he spoke, blinking at me as he took my appearance in. “Forgive me if I’m mistake, but are you Azoth Surana?” He asked me, making me blink right back at him.

“Oh, are you famous?” Leliana questioned, wondering why some random ass village in the middle of bumfuck no where knew me.

“I am,” I answered, both to the spokes person and Leliana at the same time.

The spokesperson seemed surprised, but pleased, “I didn’t expect you to come here yourself. Nor that you would be a Grey Warden,” he voiced and I was lost.

“Me being a Grey Warden means I’m a little out of the loop when it comes to Rabbit business. Why exactly are you expecting someone?” I questioned, making him glance around as I cocked an eyebrow.

The spokesperson looked around for a moment before stepping closer, his eyes flickering to my companions. He seemed hesitant, but he decided to speak all the same, “Mage Collective business,” he answered, catching me by surprise. Mage Collective? All the way out here? Well, I suppose that actually made sense.

“My right hand man Soris is taking care of business in Denerim at the moment. I joined the Grey Wardens to deal with the Blight, so the last I had heard was that we were still feeling each other out on a trial basis,” I told him, getting off the horse so we could speak quietly to each other. “What changed?”

“As you said -- the Blight,” the spokesperson answered, “I suppose I should introduce myself then -- my name is Matthias Sulzbacher. My father more or less founded the Mage Collective in Ferelden,” Matthias explained, and it seemed our relationship had changed a great deal while I was away. Good on Soris. I was a little worried about him handling things, but it seems that I didn’t need to be.

Alistair drug a hand over his face, “More apostates?” He muttered under his breath while Morrigan laughed harshly at him.

“T’is most interesting the company you keep, Azoth. T’is most interesting indeed.”

Matthias seemed a bit put out, “My father was given his freedom by the king. Well, King Maric. For his service during the war,” he defended. Then he shook his head, “It’s all the same, I suppose. The Blight changed things and the Mage Collective wants to help combat the Blight. You becoming a Grey Warden… well… that just proves we were right to come to you.”

“With what?” I questioned before he gestured me to follow him into the village. The others dismounted, trailing behind us as we were led into the village green. A small round band that was covered in grass and flowers. More notably, there was a golem in the garden. Tall, slightly taller than Sten, with a body completely made out of stone with odd glowing crystals emerging from it. Its hands were thrown up into the sky, its head tilted back.

Striking, all truth be told.

Matthias strode by the golem without sparing it a second glance, leading us into the tower that the entire village seemed situated on. Inside was a cozy enough, clearly simple, but cozy all the same. “You being a Grey Warden changes things a lot,” he admitted to me as he strode to a bookshelf and grabbed a heavy looking book. “We were going to use your gang as an intermediary. To avoid scrutiny from the Chantry or Templars. But, with you being a Grey Warden, we can take a more… active role in combating the Blight.”

Always nice to hear. Matthias set the tome down on a desk and slid it to me. I hefted it, casting a glance at Morrigan, who eyed it with the same hunger I had done with breakfast. If I didn’t let her see the contents then there was no doubt in my mind that I’d find a knife in my kidney and the tome stolen. “The collective has hundreds of members across Thedas and the specialties of our mages is about as diverse. I don’t know what would be more useful to you when it comes to killing darkspawn, but on behlaf of the Felerlden chapter of the Collective, you have compete access to your research and talent. So long as the Collective remains anonymous.”

I opened the tome, seeing that the tome was about glyphs. A branch of magic that I was unfamiliar with. A lot of technical magic. Given my only education came from memories shoved into my mind, a lot of it went over my head.

“So, the story is that we happen to stumble across a mage that wants to fight for the good ‘ol cause of killin’ darkspawn?” I questioned, earning a nod from Matthias. I could see the play. He was angling for what his father got -- freedom from the Circles and Chantry. Himself and others, which would put the Collective in a lot higher positions. Court mages were a thing, just less so in Ferelden, since Fereldens only trusted things you could hit with a sword or mace. “Would you count as such a mage?”

Matthias smiled lightly, “I am. I was actually preparing to head to Ostagar to see what I could do there. Father used to say that Teyrn Loghain always regarded mages highly. Called us Ferelden’s greatest weapon more than once.” He said the words with pride, but something he said stood out to us. It was Alistair that spoke up about it.

“You haven’t heard?” He asked, making Matthias blink at him.

“Heard about what?” He questioned, confirming it.

“Ostagar fell. The king is dead and you’re looking at the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden,” I told him, offering a small shrug at how his eyes widened.

Alistair was quick to pitch in with a snarl, “Loghain quit the field. He betrayed the King and Ferelden,” he bit the words out.

Still didn’t believe that, but now wasn’t the time to have that argument. “Sure. What he said. That being said, the village of Honnelath needs to evacuate. Redcliff is going to become the base for whats left of the army. Oh, and theres a little bit of a civil war going on. You’ll probably want to join the rebel side.”

Alistair made a pained noise at my blunt delivery. It was Leliana that picked up the slack to reassure an increasingly bewildered Matthias. “The darkspawn horde is sweeping over the south. Redcliff is the safest place for your people,” she informed, earning a slow nod from him.

“We’ll begin evacuations immediately,” Matthias decided before I held a hand up.

“The help you’re offering is appreciated. However, the reason why we came here in the first place was because of the golem,” I told him and I saw an ugly look pass over Matthias’ face. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed, telling me that the dislike fo the golem was personal in nature. “We were given the control rod to it. As you can likely imagine, an eight foot tall stone golem would be pretty handy killing darkspawn.”

“The command words that came with the control rod are wrong. Mother sold the rod with the wrong words so it could never be reactivated after the blasted thing murdered my father,” he muttered, his tone dark. Leliana made a noise of surprise while Theron crossed his arms. “It's dangerous. Crushed every bone he had.”

That was… weird. I didn’t know much about golems, but if a control rod was necessary… then unless he gave the order to pulvarize himself, it probably meant that someone else gave the order.

Morrigan laughed, “T’is far more likely your mother had him killed and sold the control rod so the golem could not testify.” She voiced, and I thought that sounded like the likeliest course of action. Matthias shot her a dirty look, not at all happy with the remark. I had certainly thought it, but voicing the opinion when we needed the golem was a bad move. You said that after you had the golem on your side.

“Dangerous or not,” I quickly interjected, “we could use the golem. If there are any consequences, they’ll fall on our heads.”

Matthias’ lips were pressed into a thin line. Any further, and he’d be swallowing them. All the same, despite his evident dislike for the idea, he offered a single curt nod. “The command phrase is Dulen Harn,” he uttered, a sigh heaving from him. “Though, I would ask that you activate the golem after we’re gone. Less of a chance of it going on a rampage and killing the lot of us.”

I agreed to that, and the rest of the day was spent helping the village pack its things and sending them off to Redcliff. Matthias took the bulk of his research, but between Morrigan and I, we happily helped ourselves. Matthias had books and journals on every kind of magic -- Entropy, Elementalism, hexes, force magic, healing, enchanting, and everything in between. A lot of the books were one offs, or parts of greater series that Matthias took with him, but I knew I would have a lot of reading to do in my future.

The villagers funneled out of the small village, just over two hundred people that loaded up on wagons and mules. They would have a leg up on most refugees considering that they were able to take most of their valuables. I waved them off, knowing that I had just made a rather dangerous alliance, but it was the first real step that was made to combating the Blight.

Matthias refused to say how many mages of the Collective there were in Ferelden, but between them and the Circle mages, I’m guessing we would be dealing with a lot.

Once they were in the clear, I hefted the control rod, standing before the golem. “Dulen Harn,” I spoke, and instantly, two things happened. First and foremost, the fucking control rode started sparking before a familiar burning smell reached my nose. The control rod was broken. Secondly, the golem began to move. It jerked its arms, shifting its massive stone head, dust and what looked like bird shit grinding out of the joints.

“Finally,” the golem uttered, catching me by surprise by how… normal it sounded. It had a heavy brassy voice, fitting its stature, but it didn’t talk like how I imagined a golem would. “I knew it was only a matter of time before another found the control rod. It is a mage. How unfortunate.”

The golem started to look around, “The villagers are gone. I had hoped to squish them for the torment that they put me through. Prancing around me, decorating me with flowers… throwing breadcrumbs at my feet to attract those feathery fiends…”

Okay. This was much more entertaining than I thought it was going to be. I thought I would gain a silent stone golem that I could use to smash the hell out of whoever I told it to. Present company included. I’m not sure if this was a good change, but it was a more entertaining one. “Matthias figured as much and made sure to clear out of the danger zone,” I informed the golem. “Feel like squishing us?”

“Perhaps. I suppose it wants me to feel gratitude for freeing me from my imprisonment. It has it. For thirty years I watched this village and its inhabitants -- prancing around me, dancing, and so on. And now…” The golem trailed off, as if not certain as it looked around at the village. It was completely devoid of people with only signs of their departure. “Now I don’t know what I shall do. Whatever it orders me, I imagine,” the golem remarked.

I looked down at the control rod before I came to a decision. “Meh, here you go,” I said, handing the rod over to the golem. Alistair sputtered along with Morrigan, sharing a very rare moment of agreement. “I don’t have a lot of lines, and fewer than I’m not willing to step over, but me people have a long history with slavery. This brushes too close to it for my tastes,” I decided. The golem was its own person. The golem hadn’t done anything to me.

Theron seemed to approve while both Alistair and Morrigan were sharing a rare moment of agreement that Alistair voiced, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Azoth…”

“You are giving me the control rode?” The golem questioned, holding the leash in its hands before it crushed the rod effortlessly in between its palms. “It surprises me. A mage it might be, but it is most unlike my former master. It came here for a purpose, did it not? To use me against some foe or another?”

Theron nodded, “To combat the darkspawn. The Blight,” he answered and the golem shifted at that.

“Darkspawn,” the golem muttered. “Yes. Killing darkspawn sounds right to me. Very well. I shall join it in its quest of slaying darkspawn. And birds. Especially the birds.” Weird, but I don’t really think I should be throwing stones there.

“It has a name. Azoth Surana,” I introduced myself, tilting my head at the golem.

“I am known as Shale. Lets us be off, then. It would be nice to see something other than this accursed village,” Shale decided and I very pointedly turned around, opening up a shot at my back, but like Sten, Shale didn’t take it. However, when I felt a sharp vibration travel through the ground, I did see the splattered remains of a pigeon under Shale’s foot while the golem chuckled in a way that could only be described as sinister.

Well… this was going to be fun.