Unknown: Dragon Age

A chill ran down Maric’s spine and settled uncomfortably in his gut. “You think that’s what your father intended?”

Loghain’s eyes went wide. With two quick steps, he was on top of Maric, hauling him up off the moss and throwing him against the fungus-covered tree. Maric gasped, the wind knocked out of him, as Loghain lifted a threatening fist. It hovered, as if he wasn’t willing to actually punch Maric, but judging by the furious expression on his face, he wanted to. “You shut up about him,” Loghain hissed. “You’re the one who got him killed! You don’t get to tell me what to do. You can’t knight me to make me throw my life away for you .”

Maric coughed, trying to regain his breath. “You think I meant for any of this to happen? I didn’t want your father to die. I’m so sorry. . . .”

Loghain went rigid. “Oh, you’re sorry? You’re sorry!”

Maric saw the punch coming and closed his eyes. His chin exploded into a ball of white pain and he bit down hard on his tongue. Metallic-tasting blood filled his mouth as he collapsed on the moss below, too exhausted to put up any resistance.

“How wonderful that you’re sorry!” Loghain raged, towering over him. “I watched my father die, along with everyone he promised to protect, but how much better it is now that I know you’re sorry !” Tearing himself away, he stalked several feet off and stood there with his back turned, fists clenched at his sides.

Maric gasped and spat out blood and saliva, much of it

dribbling down his chin. His jaw throbbed like it was about to fall off. Gritting his teeth and sucking back the blood welling out of his tongue, he forced himself to sit up. “I watched my mother murdered, right in front of me. And I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.”

Loghain made no sign he was even listening.

Feeling shaky and weak, Maric continued to speak. “I was running from her killers when I met you in the woods. I had no idea that you weren’t going to just throw me to the wolves once you found out who I was. I was going to go my own way, but you convinced me to follow you.” Maric held out his hands in supplication. “Why did you do that? You knew I was being chased. You knew there was danger.”

Loghain didn’t answer. He remained with his back turned, and for several minutes all he did was cut at low-hanging roots with his knife and toss them aside. Maric couldn’t tell if Loghain was ignoring him or just thinking.

Eventually Maric wiped his mouth gingerly with the back of his hand. The flow of blood had lessened, though his jaw still hurt and his ears were ringing. With effort, he pulled himself back to his feet.

“I wish I’d known earlier, about your father,” Maric continued. “He was willing to give up his life to save me. And why? Same reason he led all those poor people, I’ll bet, when where he belonged was with the rebel army. He was a great man, even I could see that. That’s why I knighted him.” Tears welled up in his eyes, and his voice became hoarse. “My mother was great, too. Let me tell you, if I . . . If I’d had the chance to say good-bye to her, I wouldn’t have wasted it.”

Loghain did not move, or even look at him.

It was obvious nothing Maric said was going to get through to him. Maric wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. “But I get it. I don’t expect you to stay and help me, I really don’t. You need to go back to the camp, see if . . . anyone

survived. If I were you, I’d want to get back to my people. How could I not understand that?” He wiped the last smears of blood from his chin. “So . . . thank you for saving me.”

With that, he straightened the torn and wet coat and left. The boots were still his good ones, he figured. He had the dagger the sister had given him, and was not completely helpless. With a bit of luck, he could find a route back out of the forest. Maybe he would run into some passing merchant caravan. The dwarves came this far south on the way to Gwaren, didn’t they? It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing. At this point, he had little choice but to try.

Maric trudged across the treacherous terrain, leaving Loghain well behind him. The mist made traveling difficult; he couldn’t see where he was stepping most of the time, and his boots got caught between gnarled roots or in small depressions in the mud. Eventually he cut down one of the low tree branches, making himself a stick to help him find firmer ground in the mist. The forest around him seemed to be getting thicker and darker, if possible, when he realized that he really had no idea even which direction he was going. He couldn’t tell where the sun was, as he could barely see the sky. For all he knew, he could be heading farther south into the Wilds.

As he stood there, scratching his head in confusion, he heard steps behind him. He turned to find Loghain approaching. Maric had to admit that he had never felt quite so relieved to see anyone, especially Loghain in his formidable leather armor, stepping as easily in the mist as he might have on even ground. The man certainly didn’t look happy. Those icy blue eyes glared at Maric as if to say, I’m going to regret this .

Maric waited for Loghain to get near. Loghain didn’t say anything right away, but grimaced and unslung his bow, then adjusted the half-full quiver on his back. When he looked up again, he held up a single finger. “One, you have a way with words.”

“Really? You’d be the first to say that.”

Loghain ignored him, holding up a second finger. “Two, I don’t imagine my father meant for you to get away just to die like an idiot in the Wilds. Which is exactly what would happen if I didn’t help you.”

“No, I’m fine. You don’t owe me anything—”

Loghain grunted noncommittally. With a quick motion, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and fired it right past Maric’s head. Maric was so startled, he didn’t know what to think. He stepped back, and then jumped as he noticed something writhing on the tree behind him. He jumped even farther when he realized it was a shiny black snake at least as large as his arm. The arrow pierced it about a foot behind its head, staking it to the tree, where it frantically writhed.

Loghain stepped up to it, drawing his belt knife and cutting off its head with some difficulty. Angry red blood gushed from its neck, and its convulsions slowed. Yanking out the arrow, Loghain pulled the snake corpse down from the branches and turned back to Maric. “We sometimes saw these outside the Wilds. Silent Crawlers. Poisonous . . . but tasty enough if you can ignore the smell.”

“Oh,” Maric said, nonplussed.

“So I’m going to see you out of the Wilds and get you back to the rebels.” He looked at Maric sternly. “Once that’s done, we’re through. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Then no thanking me. I don’t want any reward.”

“Right.”

“And I’m not calling you ‘Your Highness.’”

“Please don’t.”

Loghain’s scowl deepened, like he had been half hoping for an argument. Since there was none forthcoming, he waved vaguely in the direction Maric had been heading. “At least you

were walking in the right direction. Accidentally, I bet. Are you hungry?”

Maric eyed the long, shiny snake corpse dangling from Loghain’s hand dubiously, but his stomach growled before he could answer.

“Then let’s find something else besides a snake to eat. And a place to light a damned fire.” He brushed by Maric and headed off, not waiting to see if Maric followed.

For the next three days, the pair of them traveled the deep forests of the Korcari Wilds. It was slow going, considering that Loghain didn’t want to backtrack and was instead leading Maric west. Despite what he’d told Maric, Loghain wasn’t convinced the men after them wouldn’t follow them into the dense forest. At the very least, their pursuers might leave men stationed just outside the Wilds, hoping that he and Maric had hidden within the less dangerous fringe area and might be forced to come out soon.

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