Chapter III
The gates to Ostagar opened, allowing the four travelers back within its walls. Everil led them back to Duncan, who had been waiting for them by the bonfire near the Warden camp.
"Good, you have returned." He greeted them with a small smile. "Were you successful?"
Alistair frowned. "Barely… a crazy old apostate had them."
"An apostate?" Duncan inquired curiously.
"Two of them. They seemed to have been living in the wilds for a long time. Probably hiding from the chantry and the templars."
"That is not our concern. You're not a templar any longer, Alistair. Let us focus on the task at hand."
"Yes, Duncan." Alistair replied quietly. "What do we do with the scrolls?"
"Hold on to them for now." Duncan then turned to the rest of the group.
"While you all were gone, I had the circle mages prepare the rest of what is needed. We are ready to commence immediately."
"Let's get it over with." Everil responded firmly. She still didn't like the secrecy around the whole thing, but she had no other choice.
"I agree, let's have it done." Ser Jory joined in.
"Good." Duncan then turned to Alistair. "Take them to the old temple. I will finish up the preparations and join you shortly."
"Understood." Alistair replied before he gestured for them to follow.
Soon it was just the four of them once more, gathered deeper in the fortress ruins and away from the eyes of those in camp. She couldn't deny the secrecy was unnerving, but it seemed she had no other choice but to proceed.
She gazed to those around her. Each of them had their own reasons to live, but they were in the same situation as she. It was odd how hat knowledge made it a little easier to handle.
"I don't like this. I thought we already proved our worth. Why another test?" Ser Jory said anxiously.
"Every Grey Warden has to go through the Joining. That's how we obtain our... special abilities. You'll understand soon, if you survive." Alistair quietly told them, a sympathetic look over his features.
"If we survive?" Daveth asked. "Just how much danger are we in?"
"I don't think it matters at this point." Everil uttered, drawing the attention of the men. "If we die it might as well be like this. If darkspawn advance further north, we will all die regardless."
"But what's the point? We can fight them just as well!" Ser Jory protested.
"I'm sure there is more we are not being told." She gazed towards Alistair with resolute eyes. "But I'm also certain they are doing what they must. Otherwise no one would be willing to make whatever sacrifices are necessary to protect mankind from the Blight."
He returned her gaze with an apologetic look. Her main goal had been to bring revenge upon the man who slaughtered her family. Now there was a real chance she might die without even telling her brother what happened.
Alistair felt an unsettling feeling crawl up his chest at the thought. They had only known each other for a few days and yet she had already left a big impression in him, so much so that if she died he would regret ever taking part in it.
"You're right." Daveth said as he scratched his chin. "I don't think I would have ever thought of joining had Duncan not conscripted me when the Denerim guards threatened to take me in. I was sure to die of hanging anyway. I guess at least this would have some honor to it."
"But... My family." Ser Jory's eyes shifted between his companions, his shoulders tense.
"Again with that? And here I thought you had grown a spine after the wilds." She folded her arms, tilting her hip. "Will you not at least do this for your family?"
"I just have never fought a foe I could not engage with my blade." Ser Jory said hopelessly.
Footsteps made the four companions crane their heads to Duncan as he walked towards them, a chalice in his hands.
He placed the cup upon the nearby table, and then turned to them. "This ritual has been performed since the first Grey Wardens learned to use the blood of our enemies to master their taint. Those before us followed on their footsteps, and so did we before you."
"Wait… we're going to drink the blood of those…those creatures?" Ser Jory took a step back, his eyes wide.
"Drinking their blood makes us immune to the taint." Alistair quietly said. "It also allows us to sense their presence and grants us what we need to defeat the archdemon."
"We say only a few words before we begin." Duncan said solemnly. "Alistair, if you will."
"Join us brothers and sisters. Join us as we stand in the shadows, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that soon, we shall join you." Alistair's eyes were cast to the ground, repeating words almost sacred.
Duncan then took the chalice and approached the first recruit. "Step forward, Daveth."
The rogue's jaw set and he took a confident step. No further questions were asked as he took the chalice and drank a single gulp from it. Everil watched intently from behind, her lips pressed into a thin line as she waited for a reaction.
Suddenly, Daveth let out gurgling coughs as he folded at the middle, scratching at his throat. Everil's eyes widened as she watched her companion convulse in pain, the sight leaving her rooted to the spot. He fell on his knees and then to the floor, his body shaking as he struggled to breathe.
"I am sorry, Daveth." Duncan regretfully gazed down at the man as he slowly died.
He then turned to Ser Jory.
What remained of the knight's courage faded as he took a step back, his terrified eyes glued to Daveth's corpse. "But I have a wife... a child…"
Everil couldn't utter a word of encouragement at this point, for even with all her prowess she too was scared of that chalice.
Duncan kept approaching the knight, cornering him to a wall.
"There is no turning back." He said cryptically, his sharp eyes boring into his.
Ser Jory fearfully reached for his great sword. "N-no! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"
Duncan put down the chalice, drawing his own weapon as the knight cowered and raised his sword.
The Warden moved in, deflecting the first swing of the sword with his dagger. He then shot forth, burying his blade into the knight's side.
Everil watched in consternation as Ser Jory sank to the floor, eyes wide as his blood pulled under him. Her heart was be beating wildly, her survival instincts telling her to run. But she willed her feet to stay put as Duncan now set his sights upon her. The warm look in his eyes was gone, replaced by the cold eyes of a predator, as Ser Jory's blood splattered his armor.
"Everil. Come forth."
She felt herself gulp. There seemed to be a fifty-fifty chance she was going to die right now. She still had unfinished business. Still had to avenge her family, talk to Fergus and help him take back what was once theirs. But as she reached out to the chalice, she realized none of that truly mattered. For although it was hard admit, the Blight's threat was of greater importance than what she was currently going through.
Therefore she would uphold her duty as a Cousland. She would help defeat the Blight, or die trying.
She brought the chalice to her lips, allowing the foul-smelling liquid to pour into her mouth as its bitterness coated her tongue. She grimaced as she swallowed, the substance burning its way down her throat.
Then it hit her like a rushing druffalo, a hundred voices filling her mind all at once. She reached up for her head, a headache piercing her brain.
Duncan took the chalice from her. "From this moment on, you are a Grey Warden."
A coughing fit rocked her body and she took a step back, feeling light headed as her eyes rolled back into her head. Searing pain spread through her, as if molten metal had been pumped into her veins. She vaguely felt herself falling and a pair of strong hands catching her, then vivid images of a dragon flooded her mind, and she was no longer able to stay conscious.
Alistair gently laid her down on her back and then took a knee next to her. He looked her over with concern as her fingers twitched stiffly, the taint spreading over her.
"She made it." Duncan said with visible relief, putting down the chalice.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to this." Alistair said before letting out a breath, his shoulders slumped.
"You don't." Duncan admitted, standing by Alistair while they waited for her to wake up. "You can only tell yourself that the sacrifice is necessary."
Moments later a whimper escaped her lips, her eyes slowly opening to see the two men gazing down on her.
"Welcome." Duncan greeted, his sharp eyes upon her. "How are you feeling?"
Everil hugged herself, her muscles aching. "I... I've never felt so much pain in my life."
"Such is what it takes to become what we are." Duncan uttered somberly.
"Did you have nightmares? I had terrible nightmares after my joining." Alistair offered her a hand, which she took as he helped her stand.
"I did..." She breathed. "So many darkspawn…"
Alistair walked over to the table, picking up a set of leather armor and a pendant sitting on top. He offered the bundle to her. "Here… You've earned the Grey Warden garbs."
"Thank you…" She said softly, wrapping her fingers around the vestiges and admiring the regal griffon spread over the chest plate. She then picked up the pendant, lifting it to take a closer look at the swirling red liquid inside.
"We use some of the blood we collected for the pendant." He quietly told her, somberly gazing down at her. "It's meant to remind us of those who didn't make it this far."
She turned her eyes to the floor, where only blood stains remained. "Where are they?"
"Their bodies were collected by the Chantry. They will be sent back to their families to receive a proper ceremony." Duncan said as he folded his arms, following her line of vision. "Right now we have more important matters to worry about. The king has asked for our presence. We are to speak with him immediately, so get ready and meet me at the other side of the temple."
"Understood..." Everil replied quietly.
She and Alistair then watched as Duncan walked down the steps leading out of the room.
Alistair made to follow, hesitating mid-step before giving her a concerned look. "Will you… be all right?"
She paused as she gazed at him. She wasn't sure how to feel about what happened just yet, but she could imagine that perhaps he felt guilty for it. It wasn't easy to keep a deadly secret from someone, regardless of what duty demanded. So she couldn't be angry with him for it, and she couldn't blame Duncan for doing what was necessary.
"Yes, I'll be fine." She said, offering him a reassuring smile. "Thanks for your concern."
"Anytime…" He said with a brief nod, a small smile on his lips before he turned to follow Duncan, feeling more than a little relieved that she survived.
Everil approached Duncan and Alistair as they stood with the king and others around a long table, a map of Ostagar laid out over it. She looked it over from where she stood, crossing her arms as the argument between Cailan and Loghain escalated.
"The frontline is too dangerous for you to be playing hero, Cailan." Loghain had a severe look on his eyes, his jaw set as he scolded the king.
"Loghain, my decision is final. I will be leading the battle along with the Grey Wardens."
"You risk too much! The bulk of the horde is not to be taken lightly."
Cailan's eyebrows met in a glare. "Then perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to aid us."
Loghain pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders stiff as if trying to restrain himself from yelling at the king. "I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to help us in this war."
Cailan's eyes narrowed. "It's not a fool notion. Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past. And you will remember who is king."
"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over the country to those who enslaved us for a century." Loghain said as he returned the glare.
"Then our current forces will have to suffice. Won't they?" Cailan then turned to Duncan. "Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"
He nodded. "They are, your Majesty."
"And I see by the armor that Everil has officially joined your ranks." Cailan said, giving her a gentle smile. "Congratulations. I'm sure your father would be proud."
Everil bowed her head lightly. "Thank you, your Majesty."
"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored." His smile widened. "And who knows? Perhaps after tonight children will be reading about you in the history books."
"I heard the king loves those kinds of stories." She replied with a small smile of her own.
He chuckled. "Yes. Perhaps they will read about me too."
"Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan." Loghain interjected irritably. "We must attend to reality."
"Fine. Speak your strategy." Cailan said with an annoyed look, leaning over the map.
"Your forces will draw in the darkspawn from the front and into the gorge, where they will be forced to funnel in." Loghain ran a finger from one part of the map to the other. "Then you will alert the tower to light the signal for my men to-"
"Flank them. I remember." Cailan looked at the drawing of the tower on the map. "Who shall light the signal?"
"I have a few men stationed there. It is not a dangerous task, but it is vital." Loghain straightened up, regarding the king.
Cailan looked up from the map to the Grey Wardens standing before him. He glanced over at Alistair and Everil. "Then we need our best up there. Send Alistair and Lady Everil to get it done."
"What?" Alistair spoke out before he could stop himself.
"Alistair." Duncan warned.
He slammed his mouth shut, his lips pressing into a thin line.
"We won't be in the battle?" Everil voiced his question.
Duncan let out a small sigh.
Cailan gave her a smile. "The entire strategy depends on that signal. Don't worry. There will be glory for everyone."
"You rely too much on these Grey Wardens, Cailan. Is that truly wise?" Loghain commented dryly.
"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain." The king gave the man an irritated look. "Grey Wardens battle the Blight no matter where they're from. And I happen to know Alistair and Everil are more than fully capable of handling such a task."
Everil glanced to Loghain, then bowed her head to the king. "We will do our best, your Majesty."
"Good! It is settled then. We have a plan." Cailan said, a childish smile spreading upon his lips. "I can't wait for that moment... The king of Ferelden, riding along side the fabled a Grey Wardens to stem the tide of evil. Glorious!"
With the meeting over, the three Wardens gathered by the bon fire at the wedge of their camp to discuss the details of their task.
"You heard the king. You two will light the beacon and alert Teyrn Loghain's forces to charge. We will signal you from the battle field when the time is right." Duncan said as he gazed upon the two young Wardens before him.
"I still can't believe I won't be in the battle." Alistair uttered, looking up at Duncan with disappointment.
"The king has placed a great responsibility in your hands. I also believe in you both."
"Just not enough to let us be in the fight with you." Alistair quietly said.
"I agree with Alistair. We should be fighting alongside you. We could make a difference." Everil added firmly.
"That is not your decision to make." Duncan responded sternly. "If the king says the Wardens are needed to light the beacon, then the Grey Wardens will be there."
Alistair stubbornly folded his arms. "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."
Everil smiled up at him, the mental pictures playing in her head. "I think I would like to see that."
He turned his head to gaze down at her, giving a playful smile. "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."
She chuckled.
Duncan let out a sigh at the two. "At any rate, the fight is about to start and I must go join the others. Remember, I don't want any heroics from either of you. Do as you're told and wait until the fight is over. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ser." The two said in unison.
"Duncan... May the Maker watch over you." Alistair uttered.
"May the Maker watch over us all." Duncan nodded firmly, then turned to leave.
It wasn't long before war cries and the clash of metal filled the old fortress while the two of them made their way towards the overpass. The light of torches and the glittering of iron could be seen below, as the king's armies clashed against the darkspawn. Alistair and Everil were forced to a stop before crossing the bridge, as a great ball of fire exploded upon one of the soldiers ahead, taking out both him and his catapult he had been using.
The two hesitated, while soldiers behind them rushed in, taking the place of the dead. More fireballs were fired then, hitting one of the towers on the other side of the gorge and destroying part of it with the force.
Everil swallowed and then steeled herself, shouting over the sounds of battle at her companion. "Come on!"
She ran, Alistair and Magnus following closely as they attempted to cross the bridge, stepping around the charred corpses as they went. They passed by more soldiers as they fired their catapults at the enemies below, and she willed herself not to stop to look at the cheer amount of darkspawn swarming the field.
Suddenly she felt Alistair pull on her arm just as a fireball exploded before her, barely missing her as the shockwave sent them both flying back. With little time to recover, he pushed himself up, grabbing her wrist and hoisting her up to then pull her with him as they continued to run.
Everil let him lead, everything happening too fast for her to protest. She saw another ball coming down, and this time it was her turn to pull on him, halting him as it hit the bridge. They avoided the explosion this time and they ran the rest of the way, leaving the burning soldiers behind.
As soon as they made it across, Alistair let go of her and they both jogged towards a set of stairs, while a soldier and a mage ran down to meet them.
"G-Grey Wardens! The tower is under attack!" The mage said, panicking.
"What do you mean, man!? Under attack by who!?" Alistair shouted over the sounds of battle.
"Darkspawn! They came from the ground in the lower levels. Everyone inside is dead!" The soldier replied, an armored finger pointed in the tower's direction.
"Blast it..." Everil muttered under her breath. If the tower was taken, then the signal was compromised.
"We have to light the beacon ourselves." Alistair told her, his eyes unwavering.
They had no other choice.
"Then that's what we shall do." She said firmly before turning to the men before them. "We need you to come with us. Let's go."
They ran up the steps, the soldier and mage behind them.
Darkspawn stood at every corner, murdering the soldiers surrounding the tower. The group of four and the hound had to fight their way through to the entrance before Everil burst in, pushing the door open hard enough for it to hit the wall. Scattered bodies and bloody corridors greeted them, but they didn't have much time to take in the sight. For who knew how long it would take them to reach the top, and they had already wasted time outside.
They made their through the halls, as genlocks and hurlocks blocked their path. The two Wardens easily cut through them, while their other companions helped take down the ones trying to attack them from behind. Soon they reached a set of stairs leading up to the second level of the tower.
"We only killed stragglers." Alistair said as they paused at the bottom of the stairs. "There are larger groups waiting for us upstairs."
"You can feel them?" She inquired quietly.
"Yes."
She gave him a puzzled look. "I can't…"
"You won't right away. It takes time." He walked towards the double doors. "Let's just be careful. We don't want to be surrounded."
They stepped into the next room, seeing more bodies littering the ground. Limbs and torsos hung from the walls, making her stomach twist.
"This is worse than the Korkari Wilds..."
Alistair walked towards the center of the room, a disgusted look upon his face as he took in the grizzly scene before him. "I don't understand. There wasn't supposed to be any resistance here!"
"Were you not complaining you wouldn't get to fight?" She offered him a half smile.
He gave her a small grin of his own. "Hey, you're right! I guess there is a silver lining here after all." His smile then faded. "At any rate, we should hurry. Loghain will be waiting for that signal and the king will need his men in the fight."
By the time they reached the last floor they were covered with blood, breathing heavily from exertion. Everil cut down the last of the genlocks, watching it fall while attempting to wipe blood from her chin, smearing it.
A loud roar suddenly echoed through the room, making the group turn their heads towards the next door ahead.
"By the Maker… what was that!?" The soldier took a step back, frightened by the bestial sound.
Everil silently agreed, but they were close. They had to follow through and quickly. Determination settled upon her eyes, and she began walking up the steps, turning to look down at her companions.
"Everyone down there is depending on us." She said firmly. "Let's get this done and make your comrades' sacrifices count for something!"
She and Alistair led them in, closing the doors behind them. The wise chamber was dark, but they immediately knew something was inside, a putrid smell reaching their nostrils. They slowly advanced, taking tentative steps as they looked around, the heavy breathing of whatever was inside filling the silence of the room. Trails of blood led then further in, and just as the two Wardens reached the center of the room, a loud growl shook them to the core.
They all froze as a large, horned monster, rushed out of the shadows, slamming the mage to the ground and crushing his body before taking hold of the soldier. The man screamed in agony, crushed under the tight grip of the monster.
"Maker..." Everil breathed as it brought the man up to its mouth, her eyes widening in horror as it bit off his head.
The massive creature growled again, carelessly dropping the still convulsing body to the ground and setting its sights on them.
"An ogre..." Alistair uttered, inwardly cursing their rotten luck. Grey Wardens often fought these monsters in teams, as they were too dangerous and powerful for a single Warden to face on their own. And thanks to their brief time in the order, the two of them barely counted as one.
The ogre moved towards them, blocking their access to the hearth and the beacon as they stepped back. Everil scowled, they didn't have time to wear it down. They had to end it quickly. She looked their enemy over as it edged closer to them, noticing the top-heavy build.
If they could take out one of its legs...
"We should attack low." She spoke, glancing towards Alistair. "It has to carry a lot of weight on those legs. If one of us can bring him down to a knee, the other can take the head."
"That sounds like a good plan to me." Alistair replied with a nod.
It bull-rushed them then, its mighty horns aimed at them. Everil and Alistair split up, the monster barely missing them.
Alistair and Magnus ran towards it then, quickly engaging it before it could try to rush then again. Her hound bit at its calves, his strong jaws ripping out flesh as the beast attempted to swat him away.
Alistair sliced at its thighs, his blade cutting deep as blood sprayed the ground. Seeing the creature's pull back its arm, he ducked, dodging the hit. Everil joined them, slashing at its knees as it roared.
She felt as if they were flies trying to take down a giant, as the ogre continued to move effortlessly despite the many wounds now covering its legs.
Alistair stabbed his sword into its thigh, further angering the monster. It reaches down and this time Alistair was too slow to dodge. It took hold of him, forcing a cry out of him as his ribs strained under the pressure of it vise-like grip. He gritted his teeth, struggling in its massive hand, unable to free his sword arm as he felt himself being lifted off the ground.
"Alistair!" Everil called out, her eyes wide as she watched the creature slowly bring him up to its mouth. Without thinking she sheathed her weapons, the bow she had stolen from the genlock in the Wilds sliding off her shoulder.
She took aim. "Let him go you bastard!"
Just as the ogre opened its maws an arrow found its eye, burying itself deep into its skull, forcing it to drop the Warden.
Alistair fell on his back with a grunt as the creature howled in pain, its hands covering its face, bleeding into them. It then cast an angry snarl upon her and rushed towards her in rage.
She quickly rolled to the side, avoiding a giant punch from the beast. It continued like a mad bull, punching at the air as it stalked after her.
Everil ducked, but as it swung one arm, it brought down the other, hitting her hip and sending her tumbling over the hard floor. It took her a minute to realize she had stopped rolling and she lifted her head, groaning with her hand over her thigh.
"Ahh that's going to leave a bad bruise..."
She heard it growl again, her head snapping in its direction as its hideous face came into her line of vision.
"Maker's breath...!" She breathed fearfully, trying to move away as it reached down to her with its outstretched hand.
Alistair swiftly stepped between them, swinging his sword up and slicing off the ogre's fingers. It howled in agony, holding on to its wrist as blood sprayed from the open stubs. It moved away, cradling the limb to its chest.
She looked up as Alistair gently grabbed her by the arm, helping her to her feet.
"Bastard's the grabby type, huh?" He said with a humorless smile.
She bit back the pain as she put her weight on the leg. "It certainly seems that way."
"Thank you for saving me back there. That was… way too close for comfort." He muttered, shivering involuntarily at the prospect of losing his head to the beast.
"Well we're even now." She smirked, dropping her now broken bow and drawing her blades. "I have an idea. Shall we put it out of its misery?"
He nodded firmly. "Let's do it."
Everil turned to face the ogre and quickly kicked herself into motion, towards it beast. It saw her coming, growling at the challenge as it charged, its horns pointed at her. She picked up speed, sprinting as it got closer.
It was mere steps from her when she slid low on the ground, her body drifting over the stone and between its massive legs. She swiftly used her arm to stop herself and shifted to the back of the monster. It didn't have time to turn around as she shot forward with her sword and dagger at the ready, launching herself at one leg and burying her weapons in the back of its knee. It growled out in pain as she cut through its kneecap, making its leg buckle and kneel.
"Now!" She cried out, holding on to her blades as the ogre struggled.
Alistair was already moving, his sword in hand as he put away his shield. He jumped, using its leg to propel himself up towards its head. He felt his blade sink into its throat, piercing the ogre's windpipe as he watched it gurgled up blood.
It stumbled back as Everil quickly removed her weapons and jumped out of the way while Alistair held on with his knees to the monster's chest as it fell. The ogre hit the ground with an earth-shaking slam, its arms still trying reach up to the human upon it.
Alistair then pulled out his sword only to bring it down with both hands, stabbing through the monster's open maw. The ogre released another gurgling growl as blood poured out from its mouth, and the knight then twisted his blade once, causing the beast to finally stop moving.
Without wasting more time, he slid off the dead monster and quickly made for the beacon. Everil and her hound followed him as she put away her blades.
He lit it and the flames shot up to like a spire, lighting the night sky. Panting for breath, the two Wardens gazed up at the blaze, Alistair still on a knee by the chimney.
"We did it." She uttered with a small smile, relief feeling her chest.
"Yes, we did." He said, turning his head to look up at her. "We work well together, don't we?"
"I think we do..." Everil's blue eyes met his, her smile broadening while she offered him a hand.
As he was about to take her hand the familiar, evil voices flooded his head, his eyes growing wide when suddenly an arrow pierced out through her chest.
"Huh…?" She looked down at it, her fingers reaching up to the touch the tip. Then another arrow hit her back, causing her to stumble towards him.
Alistair quickly stood, pulling her to him and lifting his shield with barely enough time to protect them from the next wave of arrows. But one of them managed to get his leg, making him grit his teeth in pain. He took her arm and threw it over his shoulders, helping her stand while cursing under his breath as more darkspawn poured in through their only exit, charging with weapons at the ready.
Magnus quickly pounced and took out one of them. Alistair put away his shield, drawing his blade to fend off several others, his other arm keeping his companion on her feet. He grunted as one hurlock broke through his block, slicing at his side and sending blood splattering over the ground. He hit it across the face with the pummel of his sword, throwing it off balance before cutting off its head with another swift swing.
The mabari stood weakly between them and the enemy, attempting to protect his mistress while carrying injuries of his own.
Everil dizzily glanced up at Alistair as her blood soaked her back and slid down her legs. She swallowed, the taste of copper filling her mouth as she weakly reached back and drew her sword. She swung it once, taking out a genlock that got too close to them.
There was nothing she could tell him. They were going to die.
Alistair felt her lean more heavily on him, making him turn his gaze to her. She was barely conscious as she struggled to breathe, and yet she held a defiant look in her eyes.
His hold on her waist tightened in response, drawing her closer to him as they were cornered against the wall. They watched as increasing number of darkspawn began closing in, cackling in mirth as if already enjoying their impending suffering.
A loud burst of wind suddenly broke in, taking out the creatures as glass flew everywhere in the chamber. A dragon emerged from one of the broken windows, red scales shimmering as it landed, swinging its massive tail at the remaining monsters.
The two Wardens stared in shock as flames shot out of its mouth, torching the remaining darkspawn and turning them into ashes. It then turned its head, piercing amber eyes focusing on the two as they struggled to stand.
It was then that Everil felt her consciousness give in, those eyes boring into her mind as darkness claimed her.
A scream made Alistair's eyes snap open as he sat up with a start, the wound on his side protesting in response. He moaned weakly as his hand went to his injured side, feeling the cloth of the cloth now covering the wound. Alistair gazed down at himself, seeing he was now shirtless with more bandages covering most of his torso. He then spotted the bandage wrapped tightly around his thigh, and he found himself thankful that whoever healed him had allowed him to keep both his trousers and his dignity
Despite the pounding headache, the memories of what happened slowly dawned upon him, leaving him wondering if perhaps he had awakened from a terrible nightmare. Confused, he looked around the dark clearing, a campfire burning beside him.
"Where am I?"
He spotted the old hut nearby, and he immediately knew exactly where he was. A whine drew his attention to the door, by which a bandaged up dog sat with his ears flat upon its head.
In that moment the image of chocolate locks and clear blue eyes crossed his mind, followed by her bloodied chest as arrows pierced through. His worried eyes searched the camp again, but he saw no one else around.
"Everil?" He called quietly as he pushed himself up, wincing when he took a step towards the woods.
Then another scream pierced the night, coming from within the hut.
"Everil!" He whipped around despite his injuries, bursting through the door.
"Ah you have awakened. Good." The old woman gave him a quick glance over her shoulder before returning to her task, a whimper reaching his ears.
"What are you doing to her!?" He demanded, stalking towards them when the old woman turned and flung a broken arrow at his feet, stopping him in his tracks.
"Saving her life!" The old witch barked, pinning him with an irritated look.
His eyes trailed up from the arrow to Everil, taking in the poor condition she was in.
She was barely clinging to consciousness, her dark hair sticking to her sweat-streaked cheeks as blood soaked her armor.
"Did you know that simply plucking an arrow from one's body causes more harm than good? It damages nerves and muscle, causing heavier bleeding. Oftentimes even death." The old woman turned her back to him, taking hold of the last arrow still stuck to Everil's back. "One must instead thrust it all the way through—"
She shoved it in, the heart-wrenching scream that escaped Everil making him wince in response.
"—and hope not to tear through any vital organs."
Alistair took a step in an attempt to help, only to be stopped by a hand gesture from the witch. He heard a snap as she broke the arrow, drawing another whimper from his agonizing companion. Then a sickening wet noise followed as the offending object was removed and discarded.
"How…how is she?" He uttered as he cast concerned eyes upon her, hands closed into fists at his helplessness.
"An arrow pierced through one of her lungs, but fortunately for your friend, I know a thing or two about healing magic. She will live." She took a small bowl from the rackety nightstand by the bed, handing it over to Morrigan. "Give her this and smear some on the wounds. After that—"
"Bandages. Yes, Mother. I heard you all three times you lectured me while patching up the other one." Morrigan muttered irritably.
The old woman shook her head. "Well I figured you were deaf, considering I had to fix them twice over because you can't tie a simple knot."
Alistair ignored their banter, his hand coming up to rest over his bandaged middle. Everything seemed to have happened so fast. First the king sends them on an errand, a task that wasn't even supposed to involve fighting. Then everything goes south in a blink of an eye, with them ending up having to fight for their lives at the top of the tower.
He hoped at least it was all worth it, that they had lit the signal in time.
The thought immediately reminded him of Duncan.
"What of the others? The king… and the Grey Wardens?" He gave the old woman a questioning look, a hint of urgency painting his voice.
She turned her eerie yellow eyes towards him, her uncharacteristic pause telling him something was wrong. She wiped her bloody hands on her skirt and began walking to the door, motioning for him to follow. "Come, boy. There is something I must tell you."
He swallowed as his chest tightened with anxiety at her words. He followed the witch with his eyes as she walked out, and then cranked his head towards Everil's now unconscious form.
He hesitated, unwilling to leave his partner alone.
"You should go with Mother." Morrigan told him as she adjusted the sleeping woman, making her lean forward as her fingers worked on the straps of her armor. "Unless you wish to remain and see your ailing companion's naked body. To each their own."
"Of-of course not! I... I would never…ugh." He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, then turned around. "I'll just be outside."
Morrigan watched in mild amusement as he stumbled out the door, slamming it behind him. She shook her head with a hopeless sigh, looking down at the motionless woman upon her bed.
"I actually feel sorry for you..."
He came out to see the old woman sitting upon a rocking chair by the fire, bringing a pipe up to her cracked lips as he cautiously stepped closer.
With a snap of her fingers she summoned a small flame within the pipe, lighting it with a few puffs as she watched him approach. She slowly exhaled smoke, leaning back as she motioned to an old chair across from her.
"Sit."
He did as he was told, wincing slightly as every movement brought pain to his body. Alistair felt a chill under her piercing yellow eyes, the vague image of the dragon from the tower superimposing upon the wrinkled woman's features.
He wanted to know what she was, but he was almost too afraid to ask.
"Your order, the king and his armies..." She began slowly, puffing out another cloud of smoke. "They perished against the darkspawn."
Her words hit him like a bucket of cold water, echoing in his ears as his world suddenly stopped. "W-what?"
"You heard me." She said coolly with her gaze focused upon the campfire, casually breathing out more smoke while slowly rocking her chair back and forth. "They were massacred. Every one of them."
"N-No...that's not true! We lit the beacon!" Alistair gave her a horrified look, a million questions rushing through his head, making him dizzy as he clung desperately to denial. "Loghain's soldiers surely would have—"
"This Loghain ignored your signal and fled the field, taking his men with him. No one came to help in the fight."
"No!" He shot up to his feet, frantically searching the area. "Where's my sword!? They need me!"
"Sit down, boy. There's nothing you can do for them now." She drew in another puff of smoke, her eyes following him as he paced around like a caged animal.
"They can't be dead... Duncan can't be dead! I… I have to go help them!" He made for the edge of the woods, when suddenly several tree branches shot out from the darkness. They took hold of his arms and legs, yanking him off the ground and drawing a startled cry out of him.
She stood from her chair, calmly walking over to him as the creaking branches lowered him to her. She puffed smoke onto his face, throwing him into a coughing fit.
"You will do no such thing." She uttered darkly as he squirmed. "I went through a great deal of trouble to save your sorry behind, young man. Do not take my efforts for granted by rushing to your death like a fool."
Any movement he made just tightened her hold on him, stressing his limbs to the breaking point.
"Who are you…?" He breathed out hoarsely, angrily fighting back the bitter tears currently threatening to spill from his eyes.
"The better question here is: Who. Are. you?" Her eyes pierced through him, chilling him to the core. "You call yourself a Grey Warden, yet it has not dawned upon you that perhaps you and that girl are now Ferelden's only hope against the Blight."
She watched in mild fascination as his eyes slowly grew wide, the weight of her words visibly settling upon him. The witch crossed an arm, resting an elbow over it while smugly bringing the pipe back up to her lips. "Now that you have seen the situation you're in… tell me… What will you do?"
"I… don't know…" He uttered with uncertainty. "Duncan…was our leader. Without him…"
"Leaders must rise up, more so now in these desperate times." She scowled in disgust at the sight of his anguished expression. "But I suppose it remains to be seen whether or not you two have what it takes to replace him."
Silence filled the air then, safe for the occasional crackle of the fire. The witch reached up, her long, bony fingers roughly taking hold of his jaw. She forced him towards her and tilted her head, inspecting his features as if he were some strange creature. He stubbornly tried to turn his hazel-brown eyes away from hers, too worn out to physically struggle against her.
A dark, deep chuckle left her lips at what she found. "Oh but the resemblance is uncanny! Even that miserable look upon your eyes is the same as his." She laughed again. "It seems it is as they say: The apple never falls far from the tree."
He had stopped listening a while ago, too engrossed in his own grief to give a damn.
Seeing this, she let go, turning her back to him while chanting in a foreign tongue, commanding the trees to set him down upon his feet.
Alistair sank to the ground, covering his eyes and bearing his teeth as tears rolled freely down his face.
Magnus approached him, nuzzling his head with a gentle whine. But he remained motionless, sobbing quietly with only the hound to keep him company.
"How is she?"
"Her wounds are healing well. 'Tis certain she is more resilient than she appears."
"Can I sit here?"
"Do as you wish. I care not. I shall return in a moment."
The sound of a door closing was then heard, as someone's footsteps grew closer.
Everil recognized the voices, their conversation stirring her consciousness. She felt the pain on her back and the dryness of her throat, as the memories of the battle slowly flooded into her brain. She whimpered, the pounding headache making her wish she had stayed asleep.
"Everil?"
"Mm...?" She opened her eyes slowly, her face scrunching up in discomfort as the man's features gradually came into focus. "A…Alistair?"
He released a breath of relief. "Thank the Maker."
She sat up slowly, groaning as the lingering pain spread through her body. Her head turned in every direction, anxiously taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "Where are we? How long was I out?"
"A day. We're in the Wilds... Morrigan and her mother saved our lives."
She frowned, noticing they were missing one more party member. "Where's my hound?"
He gave her half smile. "Outside waiting for you."
She inspected herself. Her armor was gone, replaced by a worn nightgown. She craned her head towards him. He sat upon a wooden box and wore what looked to be his under tunic, bandages visible between his neck and shoulder.
"Are you all right?" She voiced worriedly.
"Heh… I should be the one asking you that."
A deep frown creased her forehead. "Was it that bad?"
"Yes… I was afraid you'd die on me."
In a different scenario she may have been flattered by his concern for her, but the tone of his voice and the haunted look in his eyes told her there was more to it.
She smiled weakly. "Well I'm awake now. Thanks for worrying about me."
He responded with a nod, his eyes down cast.
Yes. Something was wrong, and after what they had been through up to this point, she was almost afraid to ask. He didn't seem too eager to tell her either.
"What happened?" She voiced hesitantly. "Did we win the battle?"
He let out a drawn out breath, shaking his head as he prepared himself to speak. But he only managed a few words. "No… everyone... they..."
Shock dawned upon her as the few words he uttered quickly fell into place. "But the signal..."
"Loghain never charged. The king, his soldiers and the other Wardens were overwhelmed and left to die." Alistair said quickly, his voice heavy with a mixture of grief and anger. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he tightly clasped his hands together. "We… We're the only Grey Wardens left."
Everil slowly turned her gaze down at her hands, gripping the blanket tightly between her fingers. It all sounded surreal to her.
That last battle was meant to end it all.
King Cailan, a kind man her family had served loyally, and someone she had considered a friend, was now gone. All those soldiers—many of them with families back home—now lay dead after attempting to protect their nation.
And the Grey Wardens...
She quickly turned to Alistair, whose eyes remained downcast and his shoulders slumped as if the weight of it all pressed down upon him.
Everil knew that look. She still felt it after having lost everything to Howe.
Her relationship with Duncan had been brief, and she didn't have the opportunity to meet the other Wardens. But she knew by the way Alistair had spoken of them that they had been like family to him.
A family killed by betrayal, much like her own.
She reached out, resting a gentle hand upon his forearm. "I'm sorry, Alistair..."
Her soft words drew his anguished gaze up to her, as he placed a hand upon hers, giving it squeeze.
"Ah, you have awakened!"
They both turned startled looks towards the woman at the door.
Morrigan walked towards the pair, stopping by the foot of the bed before folding her arms over her chest. "Mother shall be pleased."
Everil gave her a small smile. "Thank you for everything, Morrigan."
"Uhm…you are welcome." Morrigan said awkwardly. "Although Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."
"I see… then I should go thank her, as well."
"That would be wise." She responded dryly.
Everil pushed the covers off her, swinging her bruised legs over the edge of the bed. She winced as she stood, her hand flying to her arm as burning pain spread through her chest, making her hunch over.
Alistair rose, his hand on her shoulder as he gazed worriedly at her. "Are you sure you're well enough to move around? Maybe we should wait a little longer."
She stubbornly straightened herself. "Well or not, we don't have time to sit around anymore. You told me before… without an army to hold them back the darkspawn will spread further north. We have to find a way to stop the Blight."
She then turned to Morrigan. "Where's my armor?"
"Over by the window." She responded, pointing with her finger.
Alistair took a step back, making room for her to walk around him while following her with his eyes. Unlike him, the news didn't throw her into an emotional stupor, instead she pushed through with renewed strength. It was then that he realized she was better suited to take on their impossible task, and that he would be the one to follow.
He reached up to rub the back of his neck as he headed for the door. "I'll be waiting outside."
Morrigan watched the interaction between the two before he left the hut, lifting a curious brow.
Everil stripped, ignoring the other woman's presence. She slid on her leather slacks and boots, then the inside of her armor.
"Are you not the junior member of the order?"
"I am. What of it?" Everil shot her a questioning glance over her shoulder before throwing on her armor.
"I merely find it curious that you seem to be the one making the decisions."
She tied a strap, ignoring the ache the pressure put upon her body. "Alistair and I are the only ones left. I don't think rank has any meaning right now."
With a shrug, Morrigan made towards the kitchen, leaving the other woman to her task.
When she emerged from the hut the first one to greet her was her hound, his short tail wagging uncontrollably. She noticed the bandages around his middle, but they didn't seem to face him.
She smiled at him, reaching down to scratch the back of his ear. "Hi boy. I'm glad you're all right."
He whined up at her, nuzzling her open palm. Then he barked, drawing a chuckle from its mistress. "Yes, yes. I know. I'm sorry I worried you."
"About time to woke up." The old woman cackled, her arms crossed as she stood by the pond near the hut. "Both these fellows looked so depressed it was pathetic to watch."
Alistair was also standing nearby, now fully geared. Everil walked up to them, her hound in toe.
"You have my gratitude for saving our lives." She told the witch, bowing her head in a polite gesture.
"My... Always so civil. You are welcome, though I did not do it out of the kindness of my heart." She replied with a smirk upon her face. "I'm sure your fellow Warden here has already informed you of what happened."
"He has." Everil replied quietly. "But before we discuss what's next... I don't think you ever told us your name."
"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."
"Flemeth?" Alistair breathed as he gave the old woman a surprised look. "From the legends? Daveth was right…you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"
Felmeth shot him a dirty look. "What's that supposed to mean? I know a little magic and it has served you both well."
"If you're really Flemeth, then that means you must be very old and powerful." Everil uttered in mild fascination.
"Power and age are relative. It depends on whom you ask. Compared to you two? Yes, on both accounts." Flemeth tilted her chin up. "But it is not I you should be concerned with. The real threat lies at the heart of the Blight itself."
"The archdemon." Alistair voiced, his eyes hardening.
"Loghain is a possible threat now too… I still don't understand what he was hoping to gain by leaving the king for dead." Everil crossed her arms over her chest.
"The throne? He's the queen's father." Alistair replied. "Still… I don't see how he would get away with murder."
"You speak as if he were the first king to gain his throne that way. Grow up, boy." Flemeth said.
Alistair scowled. "If Arl Eamon found out what he's done, he would never stand for it. The Landsmeet would never stand for it. There would be civil war!"
Everil's gave him a curious look. "Arl Eamon? The arl of Redcliffe?"
"Yes. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet." An idea then dawned upon him. "Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"
"Would he really believe us over Teyrn Loghain?"
"I'm sure he would. And he wasn't at Ostagar so he still has all his soldiers. He's also Cailan's uncle, so he will have a personal motivation in bringing Loghain to justice for what he did." He scratched the back of his head. "Still…there's no way he can defeat the Blight on his own. We'll need more help."
She raised a brow. "What about the treaties Flemeth gave us?"
"Now there's a smart lad." Flemeth said with an amused smile.
"That's right! The Grey Warden treaties!" Alistair said in realization. "We can use the scrolls to demand help from the Dwarves, Elves and the Circle of Magi. They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"
Flemeth cackled at the two. "I may be old, but this Arl Eamon, Dwarves, Elves, and Mages…this sounds like an army to me."
Alistair turned tentative eyes towards her. "So you think we can do this? Go to all these people and build an army?"
She was a little surprised at his question. Even though she had read every possible book about them, she still had limited knowledge of how Wardens truly worked. And so far, it seemed that without him she would have been relatively lost.
Yet despite having just now put their plan together himself, he didn't seem to notice.
She grinned despite it all, finding his obliviousness slightly endearing. "And why not? Is that not what Grey Wardens do?"
He felt renewed motivation at her encouraging attitude. Just hours ago he had been desperate, feeling as if he were being forced to single handedly carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Now he felt as if he could take it on, knowing that he wasn't going through it alone.
"Well now that you two know what to do, there is still one more thing I can offer you before you go." Flemeth told them with a stern look.
"Mother dear, the stew is bubbling." As if on queue, Morrigan walked up to the group. "Shall we have two guests for supper? Or none?"
"The Wardens will take some for the road. And you will be leaving with them."
"Such a shame- what!?" Morrigan gave her Mother a stunned look.
"You heard me… last I checked you had ears." Flemeth laughed.
"But Mother…this is not how I –"
"I think that's a great idea." Everil nodded her head towards her. If they were setting out on their own, they might as well pick up extra hands. That, and by the way the stew smelled from where they stood, she imaged the woman's food would most definitely be better than Alistair's.
"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan glared at the two.
Flemeth's firm gaze met hers. "They need you Morrigan. Alone these two must unite Ferelden against the Blight. Without you they will surely fail, and all will be destroyed by the Blight. Even I."
"I… understand…" Morrigan said with a worried frown.
"Besides…you've been itching to get out of the wilds for years now. Now's your chance." She then turned sharp eyes to the other two. "And you, Grey Wardens. I give you that wish I value above all else in this world. I do this because you must succeed. Do not make me regret this decision."
Everil nodded. "She won't come to harm with us."
"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth... But wouldn't that add to our problems?" Alistair frowned worriedly. "Outside of the Wilds she's an apostate."
Flemeth gave him the evil eye, making both Wardens tense on their feet. "If you don't want help from us illegal mages, young man, then perhaps I should have left you in that tower."
Alistair swallowed. "Point. Taken."
Morrigan let out a pitiful sigh. "Allow me to get my things, if you please."
Upon saying their goodbyes, they were on their way. Morrigan had suggested they head north to the nearest village, Lothering, in order to replenish any supplies needed. Thus she led the way through the wilds, guiding them out of the traitorous wilderness. The trip was quiet for the most part, with each traveler immersed in his or her own thoughts.
Alistair watched Everil from behind, the silence allowing him to listen to her elaborate breathing, despite her efforts to hide her discomfort. She had gotten hurt worse than he in that tower, and it would probably take some time for her to fully heal. Still by what he had seen thus far, she was obviously the hardheaded type. Even if he were to suggest taking a break for her sake, she would probably brush him off and keep walking.
Her commitment to their cause was admirable, especially when considering she had just joined their order. That unwavering willingness to fulfill her duty made him see the other reason why Duncan was so determined to recruit her.
Alistair felt his chest tighten at the thought of the man he had once looked up to like a father. He half expected to see him emerge from the woods, covered in darkspawn blood, telling them everything was fine. That the others were waiting for them at camp. He swallowed the knot in his throat, his hands closing into fists.
He probably would never be able to find his body. By now the darkspawn had probably tore it to pieces, scattering it a cross Ostagar as both a warning and a promise to those who dare cross their path. But although their evil sickened him, someone else was the focus of his ire.
Alistair had never hated anyone before, but Loghain had earned being the first. If the desire to stop the Blight didn't push him through the worst of times, the thought of his blade running the man through surely would. If only he could see him face to face now, the perhaps killing him would take away all the anger and pain currently threatening to suffocate him.
Miles from the village night fell upon them. They were far enough from the Korcari Wilds to be relatively safe from darkspawn, but they were still miles away from Lothering. Her body told her rest was necessary, and she imagines perhaps Alistair and her hound needed the same. Thus it was decided they would spend the night in the wilderness.
After poking at the coals in their campfire, Everil rose, turning towards her companions. "Anyone else hungry?"
Her hound's head perked up and he let out a bark. Morrigan waved dismissively from her spot by the fire, her hands stashing herbs into her bag.
She glanced towards Alistair, whose saddened eyes were focused on the flickering flames.
"Alistair?"
He didn't answer, seemingly lost in thought. He hadn't spoken since they left Flemeth's hut, but she didn't force it. She knew exactly how he felt.
Morrigan glanced up at him with an irritated look. "Your companion asked you a question."
He let out a frustrated breath and stood, ignoring their confused looks as he walked towards the woods.
"Such a child…" Morrigan muttered, shifting her gaze up to the other Warden. "Does he always act this way? If so, then I question what your order saw in him."
"He just needs some time. He did just lose all his friends." Everil sighed, folding her arms. "Care to join me in the hunt then? I might as well get us something to eat anyway, and you know these woods far better than I."
"If I must." She replied, rising to her feet and walking past her. "Though I have only crossed these parts twice."
They went in the opposite direction from Alistair, followed by the hound as he sniffed the ground. Everil glanced at the strange woman beside her, her pale skin almost glowing under the light of the moon as it filtered down through the canopy. She was a mage, an apostate who was raised outside of the Circle's walls and the daughter of a fabled witch. But although she had an unnatural aura, she seemed perfectly human. She only wondered how much of that was true, or if perhaps this girl was not actually Flemeth's flesh and blood.
"So you have never actually travelled far from home?" Everil asked quietly.
Morrigan gave her a brief look. "I left it on occasion, but only as far as Lotherin. I did intend to travel someday… but I suppose 'tis always hard to leave one's home."
"It is..." She quietly agreed. "So this is truly what you wanted? Your mother was not forcing this upon you?"
"What I wanted was… to see mountains. To witness the ocean and step into its waters." Morrigan gazed up to the moon as they walked, speaking as if she were picturing the images in her head. "To see the wonders of a city without having to imagine it in my mind. So yes… I suppose this is what I wanted."
"I see…I'm glad you will at least have that chance." She let a corner of her lips go up. "Though it's a shame it's not under better circumstances."
Rustling ahead made them pause in their steps as a hare hopped out of the bushes. Magnus growled at it, only to be shushed by his mistress.
"Great… I don't have a bow." Everil uttered as she reached back to draw her weapon.
"I have something better." Morrigan whispered back with a smirk. "Just refrain from running away in fear, Warden."
Suddenly the witch's body began to glow, making her take a step back in surprise. Then her form shrunk in a blink of an eye, a hawk darting forth towards the defenseless hare. The animal squeaked as razor-sharp talons pierced its skin, then the bird twisted, breaking the other animal's neck in one swift motion.
The hawk's form then glowed once more, and in a split second, Morrigan replaced the bird, her hand holding the lifeless hare by the ears.
"Maker…" Was all Everil could say, her eyes wide.
The witch then approached her, handing her their meal with a wicked smile. "You may at least close your mouth while you stare."
"S-sorry… I did not expect for you to just suddenly… Was that magic?"
"Of course it is. What else did you think it was?" She said as she began to make her way back.
"I… I have never heard of such a thing." Everil uttered nervously.
"'Tis not unheard of in the remote corners of the world, despite what the zealots at the Circle of Magi would have you believe. Such magic is oft passed down as carefully guarded lore from generation to generation."
"I think such traditions should be preserved." Everil said, walking beside her. Although she knew nothing of magic she could relate with her words, considering how much history her family carried.
"Oh? You do not believe as the Chantry does?" Morrigan's brows went up in mild interest. "That I could be some abomination to be to the torch?"
"No. I think being able to turn into animals seems quite useful." Everil smiled up at her, lifting the hare for emphasis.
Her surprise was understandable. She herself was raised listening to the chantry's teachings about the dangers of magic and how it was once used to enslave others. Still, one evil person's misdeeds do not always reflect upon the rest.
Morrigan's lips lifted lightly. "My… that is a most practical answer. More so than any man has ever told me before. How refreshing."
"Pleased to hear it." Everil chuckled. "Though next time you turn into an animal perhaps you could give us a little more warning. I think I nearly died of a heart attack back there."
The witch's smile broadened. "I shall keep that in mind."
After walking few miles further they arrived to the outskirts of the village. A long highway built out of stone stretched across, used mostly by caravans and merchants for trade. As they walked through, Everil noticed a group of men standing ahead, dressed in rugged armor and splattered in blood.
She narrowed her eyes as they grew near, already expecting trouble.
"Ah more travelers!" One of the men said, standing from his spot upon a crate. He stepped towards her to stand before her, the others in his group gathering behind him and blocking their path.
"Wait boss…" Another spoke, giving their leader a hesitant look. "Look at their armor…these be Grey Wardens."
The leader turned his head, shrugging his shoulders. "So? What of it? The tax applies to everyone, Hog."
Everil crossed her arms, shooting the man a stern look. "What tax?"
"Oh! So the pretty one is the leader…" He grinned. "We're collecting coin to fix the highway. As you can see, it's in a quite the poor shape." He gestured to the boxes and wagons scattered about, along with the dead travelers to whom they once belonged.
"Fools…" Morrigan said as she folded her arms, sending the group a disgusted look. "They dare stand in our way? I say teach them a lesson."
Alistair quietly watched from behind, his hand resting upon the hilt of his sword.
"So you are tax collectors. Is that what you told the people lying there before you killed them?" Everil asked, a dangerous edge in her voice.
"They were already dead when we got here. The darkspawn got to 'em first. You should know, they're on their way here. The poor sods…" The leader replied with mock sympathy. "That's why we're collecting the money. To clean up their mess."
"As your friend said, we are Grey Wardens. I have seen with my very eyes the carnage darkspawn leave in their wake." She said, her irritation growing ten fold. "I shall give you one last chance to answer honestly-and keep in mind I have killed the very darkspawn I speak of before you answer- Did you kill those people?"
His men fidgeted uncomfortably behind him.
The leader swallowed under her piercing glare, lifting his chin in defiance. "Y-yes we did. What's it to you?"
Everil lashed out then, punching the man square in the jaw and sending him stumbling onto his rear. He spat out blood, a tooth shooting out and bouncing on the stone floor.
"You bitch!" One of them bit out, reaching for a dagger.
In one fluid motion Alistair drew his blade, pointing it at his throat. "I really wouldn't do that if I were you."
The man lowered his hand slowly, gulping as the tip of the Warden's sword touched his Adam's apple.
"These people are fleeing from the Blight. They have enough to fear and have lost enough without bandits preying upon them." Everil uttered angrily, looking down at him as if he were nothing but dirt under her shoe. "Get up and get out of here. Leave everything you stole. If I ever see you around here again, I shall end you."
The man quickly stood, wiping the blood off his chin. "Fine…have it your way." He produced a pouch from under his leather armor, dropping it to the ground.
"But…boss!" One of the bandits spoke up.
"Shut up!" He snapped at them. "These are the same people that killed King Cailan!"
"Killed…King Cailan?" Everil echoed in disbelief.
"I didn't see it at first, but they fit the description." The leader said, rubbing his sore chin. He then turned to walk past the group. "Come on. Nothing here is worth losing my life to the likes of them."
As they left Everil walked up to the pouch of coin, dropping on a knee to pick it up. She then moved to inspect the corpses, her shoulders tense as she rummaged through their belongings. It didn't feel right taking what the bandits had killed these people for, but they had little choice. They needed coin.
"We should be careful in the village. I imagine that's where they heard that rumor." Alistair told them, sheathing his sword.
"Ah so you have finally decided to rejoin us." Morrigan smirked mockingly. "Falling on your blade in grief proved too much trouble, I take it?"
"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" He said as he glared at her in disbelief, finding her words both offensive and cruel. "Have you never lost someone important to you? Just what would you do if your mother died?"
"Before or after I stopped laughing?"
"Right… very creepy. Forget I asked."
Everil shook her head. "Let him be, Morrigan."
"But how can I?" She gestured towards him. "He's standing right there! With huge, sad eyes like those of a lamb on its way to slaughter."
He scowled. "Is this the part where we're shocked to discover how you've never had a friend your entire life?"
"I can be friendly when I desire. Alas, being more intelligent does not make it so." Morrigan met his gaze with an amused smile, unfazed by the annoyed look he was giving her.
"At any rate… I agree with Alistair." Everil said, trying to change the subject while handing her fellow Warden a bundle of cloth she had taken from one of the bodies. "We should cover our armor as a precaution and watch ourselves. We will purchase what we need today and leave first thing tomorrow."
"Good idea." He replied with a short nod, throwing on the cloak. And as they resumed their walk, Everil did the same.
She looked on towards the small houses in the distance. The village was indeed not far from the wilds. If people living nearby were fleeing this way, then perhaps her brother was amongst them.
She felt a small glimmer of hope at the thought.