Zatta released her new comrade – dare she say, friend? – and hurried to the bridge. Alistair followed behind, as the bridge was too crowded with catapults and men for them to move side by side. "We need to get to the Tower quickly," he yelled over the sounds of battle. The dwarf nodded to show she'd heard him and continued to run as fast as her shorter legs would carry her. When they made it to the opposite side of the gorge, the Wardens caught up with a soldier and a circle mage fleeing the area.
"You! Your Grey Wardens, aren't ya? The tower's been taken! Darkspawn flooded the tower from below and it's overrun."
Zatta unsheathed her weapons with a twirl of her wrist and a wicked smirk. "Well then, I think we should go say hello to the sons-of-bitches, don't you?" Alistair grinned as he pulled out his longsword and readjusted the balance of his shield. Even the terrified guard and skittish mage were heartened by her attitude and they nodded eagerly as they joined the Wardens. With a few whispered words the mage cast a flaming weapon spell and the group quickly decimated the small contingents of darkspawn outside the tower.
Being the pragmatist that she was, Zatta only looted the money and essential potions off the darkspawn corpses. Even though the weapons and armor would be worthwhile to sell later, it would only slow her down on the field. She fought in light armor with quick movements and she couldn't afford to be weighted down like a warrior or she'd be at risk of being cut down.
When they reached the tower doors Alistair barreled through them with his shield, in case any of the creatures happened to be standing behind it. He was about to keep moving forward when Zatta grabbed his arm. "Trap ahead. There is a tripwire connected to those barrels. They are probably full of oil or explosives." Alistair followed her line of sight and could barely make out the faint glint of a wire in the dim light of the tower. He was amazed how such a short, stocky woman could move with such grace and silence as she snuck through the shadows to the wire and disarmed it with ease. There had been no sign of her trembling fingers as she'd worked.
Zatta returned to the group and jerked her head behind them. "That barricade in the back looks weak. If we break through it we'll come around behind them instead of where they want us. Even though the trap is disarmed those barrels are full of oil and one fireball from either side is enough to blow us all up." The men nodded and with Alistair's sword and shield the four quickly broke through the barrier and fell upon the archers that were stationed along the back wall.
A darkspawn emissary began casting spells at the dwarf and she only laughed as she twirled behind it and backstabbed it. "Look, Alistair, it wants to die!" He glanced over as he sent an archer's head flying to see her chuckling with glee as her last blow struck home and the mage crumpled to the ground.
He bowed teasingly and indicated the corpses in the chamber. "Mistress of Death, I salute you."
"Ha! I like that…Mistress of Death." Zatta crossed her daggers in front of her body, sliding the steel edges together with a smirk. "Well, let's keep going. Don't want to keep my subjects waiting." The men shook their heads as the dwarven woman ran ahead enthusiastically. Alistair had to admit that Duncan had chosen her well – she was most happy hacking darkspawn and he made a mental note to never get on her bad side. He didn't enjoy the idea of meeting the pointy end of her ruthless blades.
The group continued to fight their way through the tower. The spawn seemed to be everywhere at once and as soon as one was cut down, three took its place. Alistair was beginning to worry for the men on the battlefield with the horde and he could see the cracks in Zatta's carefree façade as they continued to fight. He could see the slight shaking of her hands when one particularly ferocious darkspawn ran toward her, madly swinging his wicked sword, but the circle mage froze him in place and Alistair bashed the hurlock with his shield until the creature shattered. She gave him a weak smile and quickly saluted the mage before running up the final set of stairs.
Everyone froze in horror when they entered the large chamber to find a massive ogre feasting on something. The massive beast stood and roared, covering them all in its putrid spittle, and then rushed them. Zatta flew sideways and rolled out of the way, hopping up in a crouch to the right of the creature. Alistair was hacking at the ogre's ankles and the mage was using an electricity spell, but their archer was a lost cause in the hands of the beast. It crushed him and threw him across the chamber.
"AMGARRAK!" The sudden bellow caught the ogre's attention, but he was too slow for the rogue. She ran at the massive darkspawn and launched herself in the air. Her daggers sank easily into its hide with deadly force and in a few quick stabs up the ogre's back Zatta reached the vulnerable neck and jammed both blades to the hilt where the jugular would be. It roared and fell back, but her lightening reflexes launched her into a backflip off the ogre into another roll. Alistair was amazed to see that when she popped out of her roll, she was holding a third dagger at the ready. But it wouldn't be necessary, the ogre was dead and they were alive to light the beacon.
"Go," she told a gobsmacked Alistair as she reached the darkspawn and began wrenching her blades from its flesh. With a brusque nod the other Warden quickly tossed the logs in the fireplace and the mage cast a powerful fire spell to send the flames exploding out of the tower. Zatta sighed and tried to calm her nerves. They had not failed in their duty and they were still alive to fight another day. Thank the Ancestors.
It seemed her words came too soon, however, as a flood of darkspawn poured into the tower chamber and she was struck with a volley of arrows. The dwarf barely registered her body slamming against the floor or the screams of the mage and the weak rasps of pain from her fellow Warden. Then all went black.
Come to us…come join us in the dark. Your ancestors don't live in the Stone, but we do…we will be your Paragons…let us be your family.
Join us, sister of the Stone.
Join usssss…
The music was beautiful – perfect – it sang to her and called her to go deeper in the depths. As her feet took her farther into the darkness, she could feel the clammy touch of…something. It was soft and squishy and it reeked of death, but she was drawn to it, nonetheless. The darkspawn brushed her arms and legs, lovingly, reverently, as she passed by them – she felt like a living goddess among the filth of the Deep Roads.
Yes, young one. I will take you and make you mine…come, come closer. Come and see what you will become…
The ground was slick with damp, but as she rounded a corner in the road a pale light diffused the antechamber. A monstrous gray creature with teats on its belly and huge tentacles sat enthroned among the fleshy sacs along the wall and stone floor. When she looked at its face, Zatta screamed and fell on her knees. "Rica! No, no, no, no…"
Yes! You have joined our cause, sister of the Stone. Take your place among us.
The archdemon's head appeared from the darkness and blasted her with purple dragonfire.
Gasping, Zatta opened her eyes to see a wooden roof above her head, instead of stonewalls. She violently threw off the bed sheets that were tangled around her body and stuck to her clammy skin.
"Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother will be pleased."
Zatta's swallowed the startled gasp that nearly escaped her in discovering she wasn't alone. Her rich brown eyes met the eerie golden orbs of the witch when she found her voice. "Morrigan…where am I? What happened to the darkspawn?"
The other woman regarded her carefully. "Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?" Zatta shook her head and tried not to think of the dream she'd had. "Mother saved you from the darkspawn. The man who was to respond to your signal quit the field. Those he left behind were massacred. Your friend…he is not taking it well."
Zatta hung her head in shame. So, she'd been right about Loghain. She should have said something to Duncan…but he probably wouldn't have believed her anyway. "Everyone? The Grey Wardens, the King…were there no other survivors?"
Morrigan shrugged. "Maybe a few stragglers or scouts in the Wilds managed to escape, but they won't be able to get far."
The dwarf looked at the witch and hated her for being so beautiful and so heartless at the same time. "I will go see your Mother."
"She is outside by the fire. I will stay and make something to eat." Morrigan moved to the fire and stirred the contents of a large cauldron hanging over the hearth. Zatta saw her armor on a chair in the corner, newly cleaned and oiled to keep it from getting stiff.
"Thank you for your help, Morrigan." The witch started at her words.
"I – you're welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer." She noticed the dwarf's fresh armor as she buckled up the leather pieces. "As to your armor, you should thank your other Grey Warden."
Zatta paused in her buckling and reached for the pendant at her throat. "Its just the two of us now." With a small smile she looked at Morrigan again. "Still, thank you, for keeping watch over me. I am grateful." Morrigan watched her curiously as she sheathed her daggers and walked out the door of the hut.
The sunlight reflecting off the pond was so bright Zatta had to cover her eyes to give them time to adjust. There was no telling how long she'd been unconscious, but she gathered it to be a couple of days if her stiff muscles were any indication. Alistair was standing beside the pond, facing the road, back stiff as stone and Zatta's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of him.
"See? Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man," spoke the older witch.
Alistair turned and his face lit up. "You? I thought you were dead, for sure."
Zatta shook her head. "Nope, still here, thanks to Morrigan's mother."
The man looked at her sadly. "This doesn't seem real. They're all dead…Duncan, the King. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead too."
"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, boy," glowered the older woman.
"I-I'm sorry, but what do we call you? You never told us your name."
The witch shrugged. "Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth, I suppose it will do."
"The Flemeth? Daveth was right, you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"
Flemeth scoffed. "Does it matter? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?"
Zatta stepped in before Alistair's Templar training got them killed. "Thank you for saving us, Flemeth, but why did you do it?"
"We cannot have all the Grey Wardens die when there is a Blight to stop."
"We need to deal with Loghain. Why would he do this," demanded Alistair.
"Now that is a good question. Perhaps he believes that the Blight is something he can outmaneuver and he doesn't see the real threat behind it."
Alistair and Zatta shared a meaningful glance. She swallowed nervously when the dream returned unbidden to her mind, but she kept her emotions under control and rejoined the conversation.
"What we need is an army," mused Zatta wearily. Alistair turned to her excitedly.
"Of course! We have the treaties that oblige the Dalish elves, the dwarves of Orzammar, and the Circle of Magi to aid us during a Blight! And Arl Eamon, Cailan's uncle, was not on the battlefield, which means he still has all his men. I know him – he's a good man and highly respected. He's sure to help us."
"I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else – that sounds like an army to me," said Flemeth.
"So, can we do this? Gather an army?"
Zatta gave Alistair her brilliant smile. "Of course. Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"
Flemeth seemed pleased as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "You're all set then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?"
"Thank you again, Flemeth."
"No, no, thank you. I do have one more gift I can offer you before you go." Morrigan appeared at that moment to announce that the stew was ready. "The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl and you will be joining them."
"Such a shame – what?!" Morrigan sneered at her mother's suggestion and Alistair stiffened next to Zatta. "Mother…this was not how I wanted this! I'm not even ready!"
"You must be ready. These Grey Wardens need you, Morrigan."
The raven-haired witch hung her head in resignation and Zatta almost felt sorry for her – almost. She was pretty sure that this suggestion was not completely for their benefit; it was too conveniently timed with their rescue on top of the tower and the way Morrigan spoke to her mother tipped Zatta off to a hidden agenda between the witches. However, Flemeth was right – they needed a mage in their party and Morrigan knew the Wilds so she could sneak them around the horde.
"I think it's an excellent idea."
Morrigan threw up her hands. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."
"Not to…look a gift horse in the mouth, but is this such a good idea? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate."
Flemeth bristled at Alistair. "If you do not want help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on that tower!"
Alistair had the decency to look abashed. "Point taken." When Morrigan and Flemeth were preoccupied with throwing their verbal daggers at each other, he leaned down and whispered, "Are you sure we should take her along, just because her mother says so?"
Zatta shook her head. "I don't trust either of them, but we do need all the help we can get right now and without her, we'll probably never get out of these woods. Either the darkspawn will find us and kill us or we'll wander in circles for days and die of thirst."
He sighed wearily. "You're right. Let's just be careful around her." Morrigan jerked her head, indicating that the Wardens should follow her.
"I suggest we head for a small village on the edge of the Wilds named Lothering. It will be a good place to stock up on items and news while you two decide where we should go next." The Wardens nodded in agreement and followed the witch through the woods in silence.