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Many people said that Mauren made her choice when she drank from the cup and sealed her fate. Others say she realised her potential, when she felled her first darkspawn. It was her destiny.
They were wrong.
The road from the tower had not been an easy one. Chaos had broken out and havoc was wrought across the land. Families fled their homes and farmers abandoned their crops. People ran for their lives from an evil they had thought was long defeated and consecrated only to tales told to keep children in line.
Together, Duncan and Mauren worked their way against the flow of the frightened and fleeing, walking straight towards what so many people were so anxious to escape. Along the way people had begged for help Duncan could not offer. They pushed passed the hands that grasped for them and stopped only to intervene in a brewing fight over an abandoned cart of goods. Duncan cleared the situation up quickly and swiftly, having only to reach for his sword once to make his point clear.
Mauren walked along as if in a daze. Most of the journey became a blur and she could only recall putting one foot in front of the other whilst she tried to understand what the future held in store for her. She tried in vain to find the part of her which feared the oncoming storm but found her pragmatic instincts had long since blocked any emotional development of that kind.
She ran the events of the Circle around and around her head until she was sick of them, like a tune long since stuck in your head that you can’t stop humming. In all, Mauren was torn between pity and anger towards Jowan, but the images of his blood magic haunted her and kept sleep at bay when night fell. Although that suited her just fine. She was afraid of what would happen if she closed her eyes, despite Duncan’s comforting presence.
For his part, he remained silent too, probably understanding her need to process the events of that led her to leave her home. She was thankful no feelings of regret emerged in her extensive analysis. There would be no point on dwelling on the mistakes of someone whom she could only call a friend by default.
The one thought which had made her stomach lurch was the memory of Cullen. He was a good man and deserved to be happy. She spent a few silent nights, idly wondering how he would fare. She wished him the best. For now it would be too much to hope that their paths would cross again. All she could do was hold onto his kind words and awkward mannerisms which made her heart twist and turn.
All of this reflection was brought to a close about a mile outside of Ostagar. Duncan had drawn her out of her reverie when he spotted the group of men blocking the road ahead. He had them continue walking at the same pace as if undeterred.
As they drew closer, the group’s rowdiness reached their ears. They were in the middle of divvying up their latest haul of goods. If Mauren had had any doubt as to whether they were bandits, she no longer held any.
They were a rough and mean looking bunch of thugs who had clearly abandoned all forms of cleanliness a while back. Each of them wielded some sort of weapon, though most of them were equipped with dull blades, which had seen better days. Mauren quickly noted that that would not stop them from being able to kill. She suddenly felt naked and vulnerable in her robes.
As soon as the group saw them approach, they stepped up and blocked the road.
“Aha! More travellers! Heading into Ostagar are youse? Y’know that place’s locked down, right?”
Duncan squared his shoulders and kept his face an unreadable mask. “We do. Now if you’ll excuse us we must be on our way, so kindly clear the road.”
A couple of thugs in the back sniggered.
“Well aren’t we all business this morning! See here, we can’t just let you pass… You gotta pay the toll.”
Duncan took a deep breath and Mauren took a discreet step back, seeing how fast this was going to escalate.
“I won’t ask you again. Clear. The. Road.” His voice remained even.
Mauren saw the bandits spread out to circle them. Her breathing picked up whilst her mind began to race with defensive spells.
It’s not any different the training. Breathe. Think. Act. You can do this… You can do this. Breathe.
“Or what? You and the little lady gonna teach us a lesson?”
It was meant rhetorically but Duncan answered. “Yes.” That caught them off-guard. They burst into laughter a few beats later.
Duncan turned and caught her eye. He nodded slowly to her. Again, another deep breath. He, in turn, reached for his sword.
“This doesn’t have to end with spilled blood.”
The thugs grinned with a hunger Mauren had never seen. They craved the oncoming violence. The thought made her sick. She tightened the grip on her staff.
Breathe. Think. Act.
“You could’ve just paid the toll!” The bandit who spoke moved first. Duncan evaded quickly and slashed back.
Three of them dove towards Mauren at once. She was ready. She sent them flying back with a surge of magic. Two more moved in straight away, unperturbed. She swung her staff underhand and sent thundering sparks forward to hit one in the chest. He stumbled. The other kept coming and she only just managed to raise her staff to block the swing of his hatchet in time. The blade of his weapon caught in the wood.
She stared, stunned, at the blade inches away from her face.
MOVE!
Her limbs wouldn’t respond. The thug tugged and the blade came free and left the staff safely in her hands, relatively undamaged.
ACT! MAUREN! ACT!
The panic started to rise as the first three got back to their feet, circling her again. Duncan continued to fight the other contingent of attackers. He hadn’t noticed she had stopped.
MOVE DAMNIT! DO SOMETHING! … Breathe…
Breathe…
Breathe…
Think…
Breathe…
The men moved in.
Think…
ACT!
The fire leapt from the ground and swallowed two of them. They dropped to ground and screamed as the flames consumed them. Her hand moved and she threw all her power behind a sweeping attack. Two more fell down, blood splashing onto the dry ground. The last man stood still, hesitating. She thought she saw him tremble.
Duncan felled the last of his attackers and saw Mauren in a stand-off. He held off his instincts to dive in, determining she had the upper-hand.
Mauren eyes were fixed on her prey now, her vision blurred by the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She could have been standing there for 30 seconds or 30 minutes, her mind could not decide. Eventually, the man’s nerve reached its peak and seeing no alternative, he charged her, screaming at the top of his lungs.
With textbook precision, she blocked his attack with a ward and struck him down with a deadly lightning bolt. A move she’d carried out on demons more than enough times during her training.
She took a step back and let her staff drop down while she caught her breath.
Somewhere in the distance she registered Duncan’s voice but not the words he spoke.
Her eyes drifted around the carnage around her. The dusty road began to soak up the blood spilled next to the charred piles of bones and Mauren cringed as the evidence of her violence continued etching itself into their surroundings.
She looked at the corpses, their faces fixed masks of pain and for the first time since the fight broke out she truly registered these were no demons. They were men. She had taken human life.
Again Duncan’s voice rang in her ears. She looked ahead at the cleared road where he stood beckoning her.
Ahead was her future. A future drenched in blood, violence and war. To step forward now would be to accept it. To step forward now would seal her fate.
She hesitated.
There would be no turning back. Today would mark the end of her youth and naivety.
Breathe. Think. Act.
She stepped forward.