Brennan was busy trying to keep track of his targets and non-targets. Seeing as the targets were hideous creatures and the non-targets were a damn sight better looking, it was not that hard. They just needed to stop mingling, as it made it hard to cast his strongest spells. One of the Darkspawn walked right onto his glyph, setting it off and freezing the creature in place. He raised his staff to bring down a crushing prison of magic upon it, but the point of a sword appeared, emerging from its chest. It jerked as the weapon was drawn back through and the thick dark blood began to flow. Brennan lowered his staff in a petulant sense of disappointment. That kill was supposed to be his, since it was caught in his spell. As Brennan’s glyph faltered and failed, reaching its limit, the body shuddered and started to fall. Brennan stepped out of the way, and kept moving.
He stepped over the charred lump that had once been a Darkspawn – what kind he did not know, he did not bother with such distinctions – but soon those burned by his fire gave away as he hit the edge of a wash of cold air and ice. The cold burned as it entered his lungs, a taste of home that he captured in his chest and held. Moisture gathered at the corners of his eyes, not tears he knew but his eyes’ protection against the sudden change in temperature. He breathed out, the formerly cold air now warmed from being in his body, it left in a haze of white while he pressed on to find the center of the spell. Someone was playing with ice. Given how many mages he had met since leaving home, a grand total of none; it was enough to catch his interest. It seemed that these people packaged up their mages and sent them away to be under guard instead of being a guard. It did not make sense to him, but not a lot did.
He jumped to the side as the bulk of the spell rushed past; hitting a Darkspawn that he had not known was behind him. A narrow eyed contemplative look was all that he spared the new ice statue though, as he continued with a rushed pace to the center of the magical chaos. Whoever it was, they were powerful. Brennan was not surprised to find two women at the heart of the chaos. His best friend had been a strong and powerful woman in her own right. After a friend like her, there was no way that he could view women as some sort of lesser being to men, even if some of the people he met espoused such ideals. His mother had been one of the strongest mages born in the village for some time, despite her peculiarities.
One was clearly the mage, while the other was a swordswoman of some kind, who had taking advantage of the freezing properties of the spell. As the spell cleared, it was possible to see that the fight was over as quickly as it had begun. Brennan narrowed his eyes and looked around; taking into account what little damage he had actually done comparatively speaking. Given how little he had used his magic in the past three years, it was not completely surprising. Going from near daily practices and studying to none had dulled an edge that he had not known he needed to keep sharp. A growing sense of alarm told him that he had been an idiot jumping into the fight that way. The voice sounded remarkably like Imenry (with a healthy dose of Kel) at her most exasperated. There was nothing to do for it, he wanted to protest back, but in the end he would only be talking with himself. And he was not that desperate for company. To the matter at hand, he could not have left them to fight it on their own.
Even if retrospectively it seemed they were more than capable of handling it on their own. Brennan was oblivious to the hush that had fallen over the people at the loss of one of the Grey Wardens. Instead he was a bit more concerned with getting out of here before they sent their mage killers after him like they had back in Orlais. There was also the matter of the other mage, there might have been another but he had been too far to tell for certain. He backed up, one step, than two, ready to run if needed.