The Long and Winding Road
“Chain of command.”
“Ma’am?” Ser Barris frowned at Brenna.
A pile of papers from Therinfal filled her lap as she sat cross-legged in front of the campfire, Ser Barris to one side and her sleeping adopted mabari on the other. She picked up the top two letters—a knight captain detailed the strengthening effects of the red lyrium and several unpleasant side effects, and in return his commander assured him that the sickness and nightmares would pass. She handed them to Ser Barris.
“There are a few pieces of correspondence like that,” she said. “The officers trusted their commanders instead of their own instincts. Anyone who could have stopped them, like the knight vigilant, was led to their death.”
“What do you know about this red lyrium?” Barris asked. “You were at the Gallows when Knight-Commander Meredith…”
“Turned into a creepy statue, yes.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes—after seeing her templar pups to safety she was going to indulge in a well-deserved rest, orders be damned. “I’ve never seen anything like it. The red lyrium sword made her super fast and incredibly strong, but it also brought all the statues in the courtyard to life. Marian and Varric know more about it, they found the idol.”
She handed him the rest of the pile and let him read through it. The papers left her with more questions than answers about what had been going on at Therinfal Redoubt.
Most of the pups were asleep in their tents, exhausted from the hard march from the fortress. After Envy had been defeated, Brenna barked orders as though she was their commanding officer—and she was, in a way, considering they didn’t have anyone above left above lieutenant.
The templars still possessed the equipment wagons they had brought them from Orlais, so loading them up again was simple enough. She put the remaining lieutenants in charge of collecting gear and supplies, and while they worked she swept the fortress for survivors. By the time they finished the total number of templars in her care had swelled to sixty, though a dozen of them were badly wounded.
They marched from Therinfal just before sunset, and she kept them moving through the night and the next day to gain as much distance as possible. She half expected creatures corrupted by red lyrium to burst from the trees and attack them at any moment, but the journey had been quiet and they made camp at dusk.
Ser Barris scowled as he handed the papers back to her. “I don’t understand how this could happen to the Order.”
“The Order has had problems with corruption for years. This is the first time it’s been quite so easy to spot. Red lyrium is not subtle.” Brenna rolled the papers up and tied them with a string before returning the bundle to her coat.
“An Envy demon could not have concocted this plan. They steal ideas because they have none of their own.”
She nodded. “This Elder One is running things, though to what end I’ve no idea. Where did they find the red lyrium? My wardens searched for that thaig for years with little success. And why poison the Order with it? Turning templars into monsters seems a poor way to hunt mages.”
“Could mages have done this?”
“It’s possible, I suppose. Mages are the other power with an interest in lyrium. It’s certainly not any of my people.”
Barris’s brow rose. “How do you know?”
“Because my people like templars.” She patted his shoulder amiably. “You should get some sleep. It’s going to be a long haul to Haven.”
Therinfal Redoubt and Haven were on opposite sides of Ferelden, and large groups traveled slowly under the best conditions. Considering that the kingdom was dotted with fade rifts and besieged by rogue templars, crazed apostates and Maker knew what else, the conditions were less than ideal.
“You should get some rest as well,” he countered as he rose.
“I don’t sleep.”
Ser Barris peered down at her. “Truly?”
“I’ve seen too much.” She smiled dryly. “My nightmares are spectacular. I’m going to join the watch.”
He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed. “Understood. Maker watch over you.”
Brenna nudged the sleeping mabari. “Come on, Ser Aveline. We’re going to check the perimeter.”
The hound grumbled as she rose and stretched. Brenna had dubbed her Ser Aveline Sharptooth due to the mabari's bright red coat and slight underbite. Like the templars, the hound followed her for now but the arrangement wasn’t permanent. Brenna suspected that Ser Aveline would find someone to form a permanent bond with at Haven.
They had set camp in a clearing not far from the road—the flat area was good for pitching tents but was also exposed to attack by potential enemies. She had assigned watch shifts, and was pleased to find that the first watch was awake and alert.
Brenna and Ser Aveline Sharptooth started a circuit of the camp’s perimeter, and they were soon joined by Cole.
“You’re afraid to see him,” Cole announced.
She scowled. “Alistair should be afraid to see me after this debacle. I told him this wouldn’t work.”
“Not the king. The knight.”
Brenna paused and peered at him, wondering how he knew that. Ah. Compassion. Cole was sifting through her hurt to find a way to help her, and that particular wound had never quite healed. She breathed deeply to fight the tightness in her throat.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to see Cullen. I’m not going to Haven.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not part of my assignment. I’m due to report back to Denerim, and then I’m going home.”
“But you could help at Haven,” Cole said. “The templars hope to heal the breach in the sky.”
“Which is why the Inquisition has the Herald of Andraste. They don’t need me.”
“The knight and the nightingale do.”
Brenna snorted and shook her head. “I’m not part of their divine purpose.”
“You could be.”
“No, Cole.” She had accepted that Leliana was lost to her when she became the Left Hand of the Divine, and the divide between Brenna and Cullen was now famously depicted in Varric Tethras’s The Tale of the Champion.
“Sorry, Kingmaker, but it was too good to pass up,” Varric said. “Everyone loves a doomed romance subplot.”
“But you already had a doomed romance main plot between Hawke and Anders.”
“Bah, it’s not the same. Templar and Circle mage is a classic. Readers love that shit.”
“How are the wounded faring?” Brenna asked. Cole launched into a detailed description of each templar's current condition, and they left the topic behind.
***
The Inquisition didn’t approach them until they had nearly reached the Crossroads in the Hinterlands. Their scouts monitored the caravan’s progress, and Brenna monitored the scouts from the air as a crow. She was both impressed and dismayed by the scouts’ numbers, but not surprised—Leliana was skilled at her work. Sometimes too skilled for Brenna’s liking when their agents crossed paths.
The crow swooped down beside Knight-Templar Barris and reverted to her true form. He barely startled—he was getting used to Brenna’s sudden transformations.
“There’s a group of Inquisition soldiers blocking the road ahead.”
“You think there will be trouble?” Barris asked.
“I always expect trouble,” she said. “That way I’m not surprised when it happens. Grab Knight-Lieutenant Hayes and we’ll meet them.”
Knight-Lieutenant Hayes had been the first officer she saved at Therinfal, and she was the most useful of the officers. Brenna whistled for Ser Aveline Sharptooth and jogged to the head of the caravan. Barris and Hayes joined her just in time to meet the soldiers.
“Hold. State your business.”
“We are traveling to Haven to join the Inquisition,” Hayes said. The soldiers seemed surprised by this, and Brenna didn’t blame them.
“All of you?”
“Not me,” Brenna said. “I’m just escorting them there.” She tilted her head. “Under whose authority are you stopping travelers on the king’s road?”
“The Inquisition’s.”
“Really.” She folded her hands. “Is the Inquisition claiming dominion over Ferelden’s sovereign land?”
The man hesitated. “This area is under our protection.”
“I see. I’m sure their majesties will thank you for your service.”
“Who are you to question the Inquisition?”
“Brenna Amell.”
The soldier scoffed as though she had announced she was divine Andraste herself. When she didn’t join in on the joke he eyed her warily. “You’re not serious.”
“Quite serious,” Ser Barris said. “We’d all be dead if not for Lady Amell.”
The Inquisition soldiers peered at her with new interest, looking from her to Ser Aveline Sharptooth. Every statue of the Hero of Ferelden—and there were far too many statues of her in her opinion—featured two accurate details. First, the Mabari at her side, and second, her signature hairstyle. The rest of the details seemed to have been left to the artist’s discretion, much to her dismay.
“Apologies, my lady. The Inquisition would never interfere with Ferelden rule.”
“Of course. I’ll be sure to include that in my report.” She smiled thinly and the poor man blanched. “Now, if you don’t mind…”
“Yes, of course. Please proceed.”
Knight-Lieutenant Hayes chuckled as the Inquisition troops waved them on. “Lady Brenna, you near made that man piss himself.”
“I have that effect on people.”
Their route avoided Redcliffe village, because they didn’t need to agitate Fiona’s mages—Brenna was not looking forward to the argument she was going to have with Fiona when they next met. They chose to travel through the Crossroads instead to resupply for the rest of their journey.
The Inquisition troops stationed at the Crossroads were prepared for their arrival—scouts must have sent the word ahead. This meeting was more polite now that the Inquisition knew of the templars’ intention to join, and word had spread like wildfire that the Hero of Ferelden had returned. Refugees clustered together to get a glimpse of her.
“There are so many of them,” she murmured.
“They thought the world was ending when the sky split,” Cole said. “Scared, shaking. They were driven from their homes and sought safety here.”
“And we couldn’t help them.” Brenna grimaced. It reminded her too much of Lothering, where the villagers were desperate for aid that would never come. Her gut twisted with guilt—it felt as though they had abandoned the people again, but Ferelden’s resources had been spread thin before the Conclave exploded.
Recovery from the Blight had been slow. Portions of land in the south like Ostagar and Lothering had been poisoned and might never heal. Many Fereldans fled the Blight and never returned, like those who had built new lives in the Free Marches. It was as if a generation of Fereldans had vanished—dead or displaced—and their loss left a hole in the kingdom’s economy. It was one of the reasons Anora had wrangled Brenna into the queen’s service. The kingdom needed all the help it could get, and a shapeshifting mage was too valuable an asset to pass up.
The Inquisition was providing the aid that the kingdom couldn’t. If the crown didn’t act, they risked losing the loyalty of their subjects to the Inquisition. Shit.
“Lady Amell, I’m Corporal Vale. How can we help you?”
Brenna turned and smiled at the soldier. “Actually, I was wondering how their majesties might help you?”