David Gaider - The Calling

“No, he’s … fine,” Duncan managed.

“Ah.” The man nodded and then looked expectant, waiting for the real explanation. He was interrupted by the other door opening and a woman walking in. She wore a long grey dress, and had long white hair that cascaded down her back. She was full-figured and kind-looking, her face worn with smile lines, and Duncan did a double take as he realized this was Genevieve. Not the warrior he knew, with her cropped white hair and hard, muscular features, but merely Guy’s wife.

She smiled at Duncan, but seeing his stunned expression and his gaping mouth, she looked quizzically at her husband. “Is something amiss?” she asked him.

“I can’t truly tell. I was told your brother was here, and I thought it a surprise so I didn’t tell you. But now I’m not so sure.”

“Bregan?” she exclaimed excitedly, her smile lighting up her face as she turned back to Duncan. “Is he really here? Is there news? Oh, do tell me! It’s been ever so long since I’ve heard from him!”

The warm-hearted gushing was too bizarre. She might as well have grown antlers on her head; he couldn’t stop staring. They were both waiting for a response, however, so he had to pull himself together. “I, uh,” he stammered, “need to speak to Genevieve. Alone.”

Concern crossed her eyes, and she glanced at Guy. “Bad news, then,” he said grimly. “I need to speak with Lord Ambrose anyhow. Shout if you need me, love.” He kissed her warmly on the forehead, though she hardly noticed, she was staring at Duncan so intently. With one final wary look his way, Guy walked out to the sitting room, softly closing the door to the apartment behind him.

Genevieve stared at Duncan with dread. He felt immeasurably better now that Guy was gone, but he didn’t know what to say. “You don’t know, do you?” he asked, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong.

If anything, her stare intensified. “I don’t know what, exactly?”

“That this”—he gestured around him—“is a dream. It’s not real.”

She peered at him, trying to piece together what he was actually saying, as if it couldn’t possibly be what she thought. Then she frowned. “This is what you came to tell me? Is this some form of joke?”

“It’s not a joke. Don’t you remember me? My name is Duncan.”

“Is Bregan even here? Do you even know my brother?” Genevieve angrily strode past Duncan to the door behind him. “I’m not going to put up with such nonsense, I’ll tell you that. My husband will have you put in the dungeon!”

“Wait!” He grabbed her by the shoulder. She spun around, not frightened but instead glaring at him in outrage. “Tell me you haven’t had a dream where you were a warrior!” he pleaded. “A Grey Warden, leading the rest of us on an important mission!”

“That was just a dream.” The doubt in her eyes, however, told him differently. She didn’t pull away from his grip, and she didn’t open the door to leave.

“Are you sure? How would I even know about your dream other wise?”

“No, this can’t be.” She shook her head, and when she finally noticed that he was holding her shoulder, she pulled it free. She paced to the other side of the room, anxiously wringing her hands. “That dream, it was horrible! This must be some kind of trick!”

“You’re the Commander of the Grey in Orlais. It’s no trick.”

“I haven’t picked up a sword in years! There was a Grey Warden who came to our village when I was young, and he spoke about recruitment, but I was not good enough. My brother convinced me to give it up! No, I remember that clearly!”

“But it’s not true.”

“It is!” She shook her fist at him, her voice taking on a tone of desperation. “My brother is a chevalier, a general in the Empress’s army! He has a wife, and a son! He is nothing like the miserable man in my dream!”

“He is a Grey Warden, like you. Or he was. We’re searching for him.”

“No, no!” She turned away, putting her hands to her head as if she needed to keep it from exploding. Duncan was growing a bit worried that perhaps he was pushing too hard. But what else was he supposed to do? It’s not like he could leave and come back some other time when she’d had a chance to think about it. “I saw him just two months ago! He brought my nephew, and he is so deliriously happy!” She stopped, stunned, and slowly turned back to glare at Duncan dangerously. “What about Guy? Are you saying that he doesn’t exist, as well?”

He took a step back. He remembered that look. If there was anything about this woman who reminded him of the warrior he knew, there it was. Did that make it a good thing? He couldn’t tell. “He … died.”

“He’s alive,” she insisted, her voice steel. “You’re trying to take my husband away from me, the one thing that has made my life worth living. The one thing I cherish above anything else!”

“I’m not!” he protested. “You don’t have a husband!”

“Only because you murdered him!” she roared, her face red with rage. She made as if she were going to charge Duncan, her fists raised, but she stopped herself almost immediately. Her whole body shook with fury, but her eyes blinked with horrified realization.

“And how would you know that,” he asked slowly, “unless you knew who I was?” He cautiously approached her. “Because you do know, don’t you? You just don’t want to know.”

With a scream of rage, Genevieve dashed across the room, scooping up one of the swords leaning against the wall and spinning on Duncan. He saw the murder in her eyes and had his knives out even as she rushed at him. He parried her first blow, but her second almost tore one of the daggers from his hand. This was not the fighting of a woman who hadn’t picked up a blade in years, but of a seasoned veteran.

“Stop!” he shouted, but she pressed the attack. Grimacing, she made one hard slash after the other, pushing him backwards until he almost tripped. In such close quarters his daggers should actually have had the advantage, but he didn’t want to hurt her. Though he didn’t want to get hurt, either.

Duncan darted his dagger out at the hand holding her sword, trying to disarm her, but she was too quick for him. Pirouetting, she bashed his forearm aside and then lunged forward, throwing him against the wall and shoving the sword’s edge against his throat. It held there, pressing hard enough that he felt its bite against his skin. It made him choke, and he pulled his head back, trying not to swallow.

She peered coldly into his eyes, mere inches from his face. This was definitely the Genevieve he knew, despite her appearance. She could cut his throat in the blink of an eye, and he was helpless to prevent it. Could he be killed in the Fade? Would that mean his body would simply die back in the real world? A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, the moment stretching into forever as neither of them made a single sound.

Finally she pulled back on the sword’s edge ever so slightly. He gasped and swallowed hard. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you,” she demanded.

“You’re the Commander! We need you!”

“This is a good life,” she said, her voice low and filled with steel. “Bregan is happy. I am happy. Guy is alive. And most important, I’ve never had anything to do with the Grey Wardens and especially little bastards like you.”

Her last words bit hard. He stared at her in disbelief, unable to formulate a response.

“What did you think?” she snapped. “That I would recruit the murderer of the man I loved as a reward? It was a punishment . I wanted to be a Grey Warden, but my brother made it a misery. He hated it, and knowing that he joined because of me made me hate it. You took away the one thing that allowed me to forget.”