Okay, it's a new year and with that comes new resolutions. So I'm going to bite the bullet and post this first chapter of a story that I have been playing around with for a while. I've never done anything like this before, but due to the persistent urging of my husband and family, I have caved and so here it is. This is an experiment to see what people think of my writing, because I would really like to try my hand at actually publishing something. Here goes nothing...
The world would not stop spinning. She could not get the images of her loved ones out of her mind. Dead, all of them.
Everything she held dear and close to her heart had been ripped away in a single night. The treachery of Arl Howe tasted bitter in her mouth as she stared into the hypnotic flames of the campfire. She would not cry; she could not cry if she wanted to. She felt dead, an empty husk bled of all feeling and emotion. She should have stayed and died with her parents. She should have defended them until she had no more fight left in her body, until she took her last breath and her heart beat its last beat; she should have stayed with them. It was Duncan the Grey Warden that made her leave. He had made a promise to her father to keep her safe if she became a Grey Warden. Her father had been lying on the larder's floor; his life's blood pooling under him and staining the flagstones crimson. Her father had made her promise to go with this Duncan of the Grey Wardens and so she did. She left her mother to defend her father like she should have done.
Darcy Cousland was for all intensive purposes the last scion of the noble house of Cousland. Her father was Teyrn of Highever and head of one of the most important households in Fereldan; second only to King Cailan. Her father had been at the head of the armies against the Orlesian invasion; fighting side by side with King Marick Therin, Arl Redon Howe and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir.
Darcy did not grow up as other noble daughters did. From the moment she could hold a sword, her father had allowed her to train alongside her brother and her father's ward Ser Roland Gilmore. Her small frame however was not suited to the heavy armour, sword and shield that the knights favoured, but instead, she showed immense skill and aptitude for the bow and dual weaponry of rogues. She had also, to her mother's dismay, picked up some of the less noble rogue skills from the rogues in her father's army. Darcy could pick a lock in under a minute and was quite adept at picking pockets if the fancy so struck her. Not that the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland ever needed to pick a pocket.
It was her prowess with her swords and bow on the field that had earned her the title of Teyrn Cousland's Little Spitfire. She had once overheard a peasant call her Highever's Jewel, but she had laughed at the ridiculous notion; she much preferred being a spitfire! Alas, her reputation as a spitfire, was also the reason why she, at 18 was still unmarried; a fact that her mother and sister-in-law had despaired over on many occasions.
"Are you cold?"
"What?"
Startled she looked up into the hazel eyes of Alistair, the young Grey Warden she had met earlier that day. Duncan had asked her to find him after they had arrived at Ostagar where King Cailan's armies gathered to fight the Darkspawn hoard.
She looked down at her arms that were wrapped tightly around herself. She was not cold, but had wrapped her arms around herself in attempt to hold herself together against the pain that threatened to overwhelm her. She was afraid that if she let go, she would not be able to pick herself back up again.
"Are you cold?"
Alistair smiled; his eyes twinkling with mischief. Had she not needed to make such an effort to control her emotions she might have enjoyed the company of this Alistair. He was funny and made silly jokes that only he found funny, like Fergus...
She took a shaky breath to steady herself and attempted to give Alistair a smile.
"I – not really, I was just thinking. Thank you for asking though."
"Well, I managed to scrounge an extra blanket from the soldiers' camp; you are welcome to have it if you want to."
She smiled at him trying to convey her thanks with her eyes as she tries very hard to swallow past the lump that refused to shift in her throat. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.
"Thank you, Alistair. I appreciate the gesture. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer later."
"As you wish."
He turns to go, but then decides against it and returns to sit next to her again. She cocks an eyebrow at him; waiting for an explanation.
"Fine, I confess. I took more than just a blanket."
Her delicate eyebrows pulled together in confusion.
"What did you take?"
He sighed dramatically and looked over his shoulder as if to see if anyone was eavesdropping. Then he whispered conspiringly.
"Well, I went to the soldiers' camp to pilfer this extra blanket and then I saw this amazingly huge wedge of cheese just sitting there on a crate next to a lovely loaf of black bread and I just couldn't resist."
"Um..."
"I mean it was like the clouds parted and a beam of sunlight lit on that cheese like it was holy or something. I just had to have it."
"Right –"
"So I guess I was hoping you would help me get rid of the evidence?"
His voice sounded so hopeful that she couldn't stop herself from laughing. It was the first time since that horrible night and it felt good.
"Well I suppose I could help my soon to be fellow warden out of a tight spot. You're very lucky you know. I happen to like cheese."
She smiled for the first time without effort and some little spark of her old self ignited within her.
"Excellent!"
Alistair gave her the biggest grin she had ever seen and proceeded to take out the said 'evidence' and placing it between them. There was a lot of cheese. Darcy hoped he didn't expect her to eat that much. She had never been one to eat a lot and usually just nibbled on her food.
"That's a lot of cheese, Alistair."
"What this? Oh no, this is only a light snack."
Alistair laughed heartily at the utter look of horror on her face.
"It's a Grey warden thing. Our bodies burn calories a lot faster than the average person and add on top of that all the walking, running and fighting Darkspawn; you're pretty much feeling starved most of the time. You'll find out soon enough though."
"Maker, I hope not." Darcy shuddered at the thought of consuming so much food.
"So, are you ready to head in to the Wilds with me and the other two recruits tomorrow?"
Darcy nodded whilst nibbling on a bit of cheese.
"Have you ever fought and killed a Darkspawn before?"
"No, I have not, but I have heard many descriptions of them from others."
Alistair's eyebrows knitted together in worry for a moment, but Darcy had seen it and allowed herself a secret smile. People always underestimated her. Her small stature and youth, paired with two large grey eyes that shimmered like quicksilver, gave her an innocent and almost childlike appearance that belied her deathly skill and training. It was through her brother Fergus' Antivan wife Oriana that she had met Horacio Jimenez – better known as El Cuervo – The Raven.
Although Fergus' marriage to Oriana had been a love match and had nothing to do with political standing and gain; the fact that her father was the Guild-master of the infamous Crows – a guild of assassins – was not unwelcome. It was at Fergus' wedding six years ago that Horacio had first seen Darcy fight. She had been only twelve at the time and she had bested many of her father's trained and seasoned knights in the training arena. Horacio had immediately offered her a place as his apprentice and after much begging, pleading, and cajoling her father had relented and she had accompanied Horacio back to Antiva for the following three years.
"The first time I saw a Darkspawn, I nearly ran." Alistair broke the comfortable silence that had fallen between them while they ate.
"But you didn't."
"No, I didn't. I readied my sword and shield and ran at it; screaming like a girl and hacked of his head before it could even grunt, but I have never been so scared in my entire life."
"And after that; were you less scared the second time?"
"No, I was still scared, but at least I knew what to expect. They are truly things of nightmares."
Darcy nodded and tore a small chunk of bread from the loaf and nibbled at it.
Alistair studied her from the corner of his eye. She sat staring into the fire; absentmindedly scratching the giant head of the biggest Mabari he had ever seen lying next to her. Truly, he knew that Mabari's were trained warrior dogs, but this one seemed to be twice the size of a normal Mabari. Alistair turned his attention to Darcy once more. She was so small; hardly came up to his chest. Her hair was a dark red; her skin pale but sun-kissed and a cluster of small freckles ran across a refined nose. She had the largest eyes he had ever seen and they shimmered like silver; he had never seen anyone with eyes quite like that. A generous mouth with full lips completed the picture. Truthfully, if it hadn't been for her womanly curves that lay under her well fitted leather armour, she could easily have passed for a girl much younger. Alistair blushed at the thought of her womanly curves and thanked the Maker that she was not looking at him at that precise moment. Why had Duncan chosen her to become a Warden? The Wardens were chosen for their skill with weapons, their keenness of mind and inner strength. Not that Alistair did not think she possessed any of these traits, but there was a reason the Grey Warden Joining was a well-kept secret. He would have to speak to Duncan later before they left for the Wilds in the morning.
