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Duncan had rescued her in the nick of time. Zatta was nothing but a worthless Duster, a casteless, and she'd managed to insult the entire warrior caste by fighting in the Proving. Damn that stupid Everd for wandering into the arena! But…it allowed her to kill Beraht and free herself from a life of being his lackey or losing her own life to the bastard. Stone forsake him!
Now she was on the surface, at Ostagar, waiting for the Joining to begin so she could be officially admitted into the Warden's ranks. Finally, something good was about to happen in her miserable life. Rica once said that she was lucky to not use what was between her legs to get anywhere, and that may be true, but there had been times in Dust Town that she had considered it. Instead, she was listening to Duncan explain the ritual with pride and the young woman eagerly waited her turn to drink from the chalice.
When Daveth died from the tainted blood, Zatta was surprised by the sadness that panged in her chest. He'd been flirtatious and fun, another roguish street rat that Duncan saved, and she had to admit that she'd been looking forward to getting to know him better as a brother-in-arms. Of course, Ser Jory's demise was sad too, and it seemed senseless to her – even though he'd been a bit cowardly about the Grey Warden lifestyle, he was a good fighter and he would probably have adjusted in time.
With a trepidation that hadn't been weighing her down before, Zatta took the cup from Duncan and gulped quickly. The groans and flashes of darkspawn assaulted her mind immediately. She felt like a ghost, invisibly creeping through the Deep Roads tunnels, mingling around the spawn that filled the caverns of the once great dwarven thaigs. There was a malicious presence that seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at the same time…and there was music, too. A compelling song in her head that pulled her deeper into the darkness, but then the music faded and light began to filter into the deep, pulling her from the clutches of the archdemon.
Upon opening her eyes Zatta saw Duncan and Alistair leaning over her anxiously. "It is finished," sighed Duncan. "How do you feel?" The strong woman couldn't allow herself to admit that she'd been terrified and was still internally shaken by the deaths of the would-be recruits. She assured Duncan that she was fine, but part of her was certain the man saw through her brave words.
"Did you have dreams? I had terrible dreams after my Joining," shuddered the younger Warden.
Duncan glanced sidelong at Alistair before turning back to Zatta. "Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn. That and many other things can be explained in time."
"Before I forget, there is one final part of your Joining. We take some of that blood and put it into a pendant…to remind us of those who didn't make it this far." Alistair reverently passed her the vial strung on a leather thong. She took it with a trembling hand, trying to hide the sudden water building in her large, dark eyes from the men. Zatta could only nod her thanks as her throat constricted uncomfortably.
She immediately raised her arms to tie the thong around her neck, but her fingers fumbled as she trembled, which only served to embarrass her. Alistair gently stopped her as his hands took over for her and quickly secured the leather ties. He was careful to avoid touching her skin so she wouldn't think he pitied her and part of her was grateful to not feel his calloused fingers, but there was another part of her that was disappointed. "Thank you," she whispered to her companion. It was so quiet Alistair almost didn't hear it, but he nodded in acknowledgment.
"Take some time. When you are ready, I would like you to attend a meeting with me. We are to discuss the battle strategy with the King. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs." Zatta nodded quickly to Duncan before the men walked away and left her with her thoughts. She turned around and noticed that the bodies of Daveth and Jory were gone and all traces of blood had been washed off the stones. I must have been unconscious for some time then.
Zatta closed her eyes and summoned the faces of the men she shared her Joining with. In her mind she could hear Daveth's laughter and teasing banter, she could the knight Jory as he battled darkspawn and crowed victoriously after their skirmishes. She might have known them for only a few hours, but once you've shed blood and been bloodied on the field with men-at-arms a bond is created that can never be broken. "Atrast tunsha. Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc. Farewell, salroka."
Quickly gathering her composure and tidying her short hair the dwarf hustled down the stairs to the strategy meeting. Zatta felt a swelling of pride to be asked by her commander to attend such an important gathering. It was still strange being on the surface, where castes didn't exist and unless you were a noble, your lineage didn't matter much. She had been nothing in Orzammar – less than nothing, in fact – but here…here she could be a Grey Warden and be respected. At the very least, she wouldn't be invisible anymore.
Duncan smiled softly at her timely arrival. She caught the tail end of a disagreement between the King and his general – something about trusting the Grey Wardens too much and Orlesian forces not being required. Zatta kept her opinions to herself, but she thought they were both stupid. Cailan's insistence to fight on the front lines was suicidal and Loghain was a stubborn fool who was incapable of admitting how incredibly outnumbered they were on the field against the darkspawn. But since no one was asking her, she kept her mouth shut and listened to their strategy.
"This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Then who shall light this beacon," queried the King. Zatta didn't miss how Loghain's jaw worked back and forth in frustration. Obviously, they'd discussed this plan before, but the younger man seemed to forget all things that didn't really matter to him.
"I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital."
The King raised his eyes to Zatta and Duncan. "Then we send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it's done."
Zatta crossed her arms and bowed slightly at the waist. "I will do my best, your Majesty." Her heart pounded rapidly as she repeated the human King's words in her mind. 'Send our best'…ha! King Endrin would never have said such a thing about me in Orzammar!
Loghain scoffed. "You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?"
Cailan shook his head with a small sneer. "Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight; no matter where they're from."
"Your Majesty," interjected Duncan, "you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing."
"There have been no signs of dragons in the Wilds," refuted Loghain.
"Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?"
"I…yes, your Majesty," stumbled the stoic Warden. Zatta was thankful for the darkness to hide the slight color that rose to her cheeks at the King's dismissal of her commander.
The mage standing to the King's left spoke up. "Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi – "
"We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage! Save them for the darkspawn!" Zatta refrained from rolling her eyes. This is why the dwarves don't have any religion.
"Enough," snapped Loghain. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon." He turned his black gaze on her and Zatta glared defiantly back.
"Thank you, Loghain." Cailan smiled radiantly. "I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil."
Loghain was standing a few feet away with his back turned when he replied, "Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all." There was something in Loghain's tone that set off Zatta's internal alarm. Whenever people in Orzammar used that tone or ones similar around her, it meant trouble was brewing. With a glance at Duncan and the King she could see that they were both too preoccupied with their own thoughts to notice the strangeness in Loghain's voice. Maybe she was just being paranoid – a force of habit for a girl from Dust Town.
She shrugged off the uncertainty trying to take root in her stomach as she followed Duncan to the Grey Warden tents to inform Alistair of the King's decision. "What?! I won't be in the battle," fumed Alistair.
"This is by the King's personal request, Alistair." Zatta agreed with Alistair, but then the King's words reverberated through her thoughts again. 'Send our best.' With a playful shove of her elbow in the human's stomach, she shrugged and smiled gently to her fellow Warden. He closed his eyes in resignation and ran his hand across his face with a sigh.
"I get it, I get it. But if the King asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no." Zatta chuckled richly beside him, which lit a small fire in the pit of Alistair's stomach.
"I think I'd like to see that," she teased.
Alistair looked at her with a smirk. "For you, maybe, but it has to be a pretty dress." Duncan groaned and rubbed wearily at his temples as he began to walk away. "Duncan! Maker watch over you."
"May he watch over us all."
Once again, Alistair barely caught the words that fell from Zatta's lips. "Ancestors favor us. If we fall, let it be with honor as we go to the Stone's embrace. If we rise, let it be to see another battle. Amgarrak, amgetoll, amgeforn." He looked down to find Zatta's eyes closed in petition and when she opened them again, they were full of sadness. She turned to Alistair then and thrust her right arm at him. Alistair knew enough about dwarves to properly grasp her forearm as she wrapped her smaller fingers around his own arm. "Atrast tunsha, Alistair. May you always find your way in the dark."
Alistair's eyebrows skyrocketed into his perfect hair. Most dwarves would never send off a human to battle with such heartfelt conviction. He gripped her arm more tightly as he stared into her dark chocolate eyes and consciously focused on the correct pronunciation. "Atrast tunsha, Zatta." He was rewarded with a rare full smile that caused the tattoo next to her left eye to crinkle.
Duncan was watching off to the side with a small, satisfied smile. He'd been worried that Alistair wouldn't have a friend in the Order when his time came for the Calling. Yes, the young former Templar knew the other wardens, but he was the newest (until Zatta) and none of them were close in age to the lad. This would be good for him. With renewed strength, Duncan strode down to the battlefield where the army and his King were waiting.
Amgarrak - victory
Amgetoll - duty
Amgeforn - sacrifice
Atrast tunsha - "May you always find your way in the dark."
Salroka - friend (literally "one at my side")
*All language translations found at Dragon Age Wiki wiki/Dwarves
