Unknown - Dragon Age

“Plan?” Rowan frowned. “But how could he have known we would still be here? You would already have left if I hadn’t insisted we look for Maric.”

The Arl shrugged. “Perhaps they expected us to do just that. Or perhaps someone told them we intended to remain where we were.”

“There’s no shortage of Fereldans willing to sell us out,” Maric sighed. “That’s what got my mother killed, after all.”

“There is a plan,” the Arl stated. “Now that you’re here, lad, we have hope. All is not lost. They haven’t surrounded us completely. If we leave now, take only a small number of men with us, and use Wilhelm’s magic to our advantage, we can slip out of this noose before it tightens.”

“And what of the army?” Maric asked.

Rowan nodded gravely, already in agreement with her father. “It’s lost.” She put her hand on Maric’s shoulder. “It’s already lost. It’s you we need to get out, Maric. The royal line rests with you.”

“No! We can’t abandon the army! That’s madness!”

“We can rebuild the army again, just as your mother did,” the Arl sighed heavily. “The fact that Rowan found you just in time is a sign from the Maker. We need to take you away from here before it is too late.”

“No!” Maric paced angrily, staring at Rowan and her father

in outrage. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! I didn’t come here just to lose my mother’s entire army! We have to do something!”

“There’s nothing to be done, lad,” the Arl said gently. “We’ve got two groups bearing down on us, one from the north and a larger force coming through the forest in the east. They’ve got us cornered. If we try to withdraw, they’ll be on our flank. There’s no way.”

“No,” Maric repeated. “We fight!”

“That is the fool’s path,” Wilhelm sneered.

Rowan walked gingerly toward Maric, shaking her head sadly. “Maric, there’s no point in fighting. You would just die!”

“Then I die.” His voice was firm.

The Arl waved his hand dismissively. “No. I understand that you’re trying to be brave, lad. But this is the time for discretion.”

Maric set his jaw. “And I understand what you’re getting at, Your Grace, but that’s not your decision.”

Arl Rendorn turned now, regarding with Maric with growing rage. “Not my decision? I lead this army!”

“My army,” Maric insisted. “Or don’t you follow your king?”

“I don’t see a king here.” The Arl seethed. “I see a boy who’s trying to be brave! Queen Moira would have understood. She would have left these men, if she had to, for the rebellion to live on!”

“She’s dead!” Maric slammed his fist down on the table, hard. “And I would rather die beside these men than abandon them to save my own skin! I won’t do it!”

“Don’t be stubborn! There’s no point in fighting just to lose!”

“Then win,” Loghain suddenly blurted out.

His interruption was unexpected enough that even Arl Rendorn stared in surprise. Rowan arched a brow curiously as Loghain came forward, his expression annoyed. “Don’t stay and lose,” he repeated. “Stay and win.”

Rowan held out her hands helplessly. “We can’t. It isn’t that simple!”

“Why?” Loghain frowned at her. “Because he told you so?”

The Arl stiffened. “I know what I’m talking about.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Loghain crossed his arms, watching the Arl. “But my father stayed one step ahead of people like you for years by doing the unexpected.”

“And I understand your father is dead.”

“Our camp was surrounded, just like your army. If we’d had half the warning you have, had half the equipment, had any of the magic, my father would have seen us through it!” His tone was iron-hard. “I know it.”

The Arl shook his head. “No, you’re wrong.”

“You have advantages you don’t even know about. Trust me, you can win.”

Maric took a step toward Loghain, hope creeping across his face. “Do you have an idea?”

Loghain paused, his eyes darting uncertainly among Arl Rendorn, Rowan, and Maric, as if he’d just realized they all were, in fact, paying attention to him. For a moment it seemed he might back down, but then Maric saw it in those icy blue eyes: resolve.

“Yes.” Loghain nodded. “I do.”

5

Loghain glanced uncomfortably at the knights who had beenassigned to his command, once again wondering just how he had allowed himself to end up here. Thirty mounted men in heavy plate armor, each with more combat experience in the last year than he had in his life, and he was supposed to lead them?

It served him right for suggesting a plan in the first place. If he had been smart, he would have kept his fool mouth shut after that and been on his way. But the more Loghain had listened to Arl Rendorn and Maric argue about who would play the most important role in the plan, the more irritated he had become. Finally he’d thrown his hands up in disgust and volunteered to play the role himself, if only to get the two of them to stop arguing.

Maric thought the idea a brilliant one. That really should have told Loghain right then that the whole enterprise was doomed to failure.

Even so, there he was, ready to play his part. Loghain wore a fine linen shirt, shining boots, and a helmet to hide his black hair. His heavy purple cloak had once belonged to the Rebel Queen, a signature garment he felt awkward wearing. The leathers he wore were lined with black velvet and almost too tight to wear, but they were the only trousers Maric owned that would fit. He had never worn such expensive, impractical clothing in his life, but it was necessary.

Loghain and the knights kept their horses calm, staying in the middle of a shallow stream as they waited for the enemy to arrive. The scouts Arl Rendorn had sent out reported the bulk of the force approaching from the east would come this way, and that they would see the enemy coming out of the trees along the stream’s bank. Loghain planned to make them believe they saw Prince Maric fleeing his army escorted by a small unit of his fastest and most heavily armed knights. To pass as Maric, Loghain figured he just needed to look important from a distance. With any luck, the enemy would see the purple cloak and his finery and assume that Arl Rendorn was doing exactly what he had intended to do: send Maric to safety.

So, Loghain’s job was to draw the eastern part of the attacking army away. Then the bulk of the rebel army would be able to deal with the northern attackers without also getting attacked from behind.

And after that? Well, Loghain hoped they would be in a position to come to his rescue. Because he would need one, without question. And that was assuming everything went according to plan, which, as his father had always said, was unheard of in any battle. How did I end up here? he asked himself. The truth was that he had no good answer.

It was quiet except for the gentle burbling of the stream as it flowed past and the occasional nervous nickering of one of the horses. A breeze rustled the nearby trees gently, and Loghain breathed deeply, taking in the smell of pine and fresh water. He

felt oddly at peace. The imminent battle seemed very far away indeed.

Some of the knights kept glancing his way, their uncertainty about him noticeable despite their efforts to keep it hidden. They had to wonder who he was, Loghain thought. There had been little time for introductions, barely any chance to explain what was in store. The Arl had called for volunteers from among his most experienced men, and here they were. Volunteers, they were told, because the chances that none of them might make it back were quite high.

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