Tamlen threw another of the bottles containing liquid fire, striking another group of the darkspawn. Their group had long ago run out of arrows, bolts, and things to bar the doorway. They could not last and neither could they run - the escape rute up to the next gate was within the darkspawn-casters range and the few who had run had died by fire. Lyra hurry!

Two more hurlocks pressed through the passageway, almost half dead from the fire and acid that had been thrown into the makeshift barricade the defenders had made to halt the onslaught. Ever since the First Gate had been shut off the waves that rushed against them seemed endless, though only a few darkspawn could enter at a time it was still more than a challenge since Tamlin and his men were tired and ever more spellcasters rained fire and frost down upon them. So far only two had died but the blow to moral had been devastating. Why had it gone so wrong?!

Tamlen picked up a hoot of an owl amidst the battle. He ducked below a wild swing from the still burning hurlock and thrust his sword below the armor and stabbed the monster's heart. He moved away from the corpse wiping the sword off on the monster and returned Lyra's hoot. She would be in safe distance.

"Any more of those fire potions?" yelled one of the men who had not quite given up, they were fightened to death but they still fought. It was a quality which was well worthy of respect. Tamlen usually didn't think much of shemlen or their ways, but these men were made of good stuff, a shame that they would all soon be dead.

"Here!" Tamlen handed one over. He himself had only one left.

Tamlen moved back to his bow and picked up the very last arrow, letting the arrow spit a piece of burning coal and moved up the almost ruined wall. Lyra's plan had been foolhardy but he saw little choice. All the hurlock and genlock casters had gathered in one place and was keeping them and their escape route under constant bombardment. But a little oil and a little flame could cure that right up. He aimed for the unnatural lights of their casting and let his arrow fly, praying to Elgar'nan that the arrow would strike true, hitting the ground and set them all ablaze and not one of the actual casters.

The sudden light had been answer enough. Lyra must have poured a great deal onto the ground or perhaps it was a natural reaction to some of the swamp-gasses but the flames burst furth reaching high into the night and spreading like a wildfire. It would keep the dark ones occupied.

"Fall back!" Tamlen roared, everything in camp seemed to stop. Everyone looked at him. "Move back! We will fortify ourselves by the next gate!" Everyone gave a faint nod picking up their stuff and leaving what couldn't be carried. They all ran as fast as they could up to the next gate. The gate would be wider and right next to the encampment where the sick and injured lay and was largely undefendable. Tamlen had another quick task to preform though, before he joined his men. When he passed the second broken piller on the wall he stopped, hooted as an owl and waited. A hoot replied him. Quickly he tied a rope on to the pillar and let it fall into the darkness below. The rope was taut almost immediately and not half a minute later Lyra had worked her way up the wall panting and covered in mud but no less amazing for it.

She treated him to a quick but tight hug, one he was happy to return, before she moved up the pathway to the next gate. Pulling up the rope Tamlen followed her. Only casting a quick glance backwards to see that his fears were true. The fire was dieing out, but hopefully most of their casters were dead now.

"And now what?!" shrieked one of the younger soldiers as they reached the gate and Tamlen was happy to give him a fist to his face. The boy kept quiet after that, the others stopped talking and Tamlen felt more relaxed. Excellent. "We need to block this door, maybe roll some barrels or stuff down to slow them."

"That is your plan?!" Tamlen recognized the woman, she was one of the Mothers working for the human church. He wished he could knock her down as well but it was hardly wise.

"We need to buy the kings troops more time. Everyone! Help move those wagons over here and then tip them over." Tamlen waved the soldiers to work. But the Mother had other plans.

"The king's soldiers are all badly wounded, the battle is lost!"

"Move aside Mother, we must buy time."

"But there are sick people in the wagons!"

Tamlen could have punched her silly just then.

"Then get them off their backs and help us push or just to lighten the weight! Now either get your people to work Mother or shut up!"

The Mother looked so reasonably offended that she turned and started talking to those at the infirmary.

"And what are you all standing here for, help pushing!" Without a word the last free hands joined in to move the wagons. Those inside worked their way to safety helping each other while those too weak to move were simply left to a horrible death. There was no time or strength to help those who would be a burden to all.

Tamlen noticed that Lyra had stopped her work to waste time talking to a few of the youngest soldiers. Slightly angry he called to her though she paid him no heed, the boys nodded once and ran off towards the main camp.

"Why did you send them off?!" Tamlin hissed to her as she joined him in pushing one of the larger wagons. He didn't want others to get the same idea that they could sneak out of work.

"They were young and injured and I sent them to get help. If the kings soldiers are safe inside the walls then we could use them!" Tamlin looked anywhere but at her. She was right of cause, but that did not make him any less angry.

"Fine!" he snapped in as low a voice as he could contain himself to. "Just tell me next time!"

A few minutes later the first messenger came running back.

The darkspawn had not gotten through the barricade of tipped wagons but from the sound it would seem they were chopping through, which would only make it a matter of time, despite the number of wagons used.

"My lord! Ser elf!"

Tamlin left his spot, running to the lad who was still only catching his breath.

"They want us to evacuate, provisions, fighting soldiers" the boy wheezed "the money too, it needs to be carried to the western gate." The boy looked up the fear was clear in his face. "I think they want to try and escape ser!" No soldiers then, no victory, only survival at best. It would seem that the humans had picked a poor battle tactic after all.


Alistair blinked his eyes a few times, his head throbbed painfully. He began to take in the room, it was still lit by torches, for which he could be thankful for. The hurlocks must have left him for dead. How many people could take an ogres fist to their heads and survive? Duncan had been right, his head was the hardest part of his body. Alistair smiled weakly and listened for anything unusual. The guard room must have been left along after their initial sneak attack. He had no idea how they had gotten through the soldiers guarding the tower, much less how they could even have approached the tower to begin with.

He raised his head slightly, looking around the room. How it hurt to move! The room was indeed empty. He turned looking out to the beacon room just beyond a shattered door. The beacon room was still guarded by some hurlocks and... he felt the floor shake slightly. They had the ogre still. Wonderful it couldn't get any better.

He lay down again, trying not to attract attention, and to stop his head from spinning. How to get the beacon lit? The plan was fundamentally flawed if the beacon wasn't lit but also if lit too early. Better Loghain attacked too soon than never though. Alistair peeked outside to the beacon room and the evening sky - if it was too early, what if he had been down for hours? He closed his eyes trying to sense how many was still in the tower. Only two hurlock and the ogre – still more than a match. If raw strength couldn't win then he must be clever. His head gave another throb. Being clever was never his strong side and maybe his head resented the idea. He smiled at the idea, clearly the blow had not ruined his sense of humor.

A minute later he had come up with a plan, it wasn't perfect, far from it, but it was a plan.

He would wait till one of the hurlocks passed the door, then sneak up on it and kill it from behind. At this point the ogre and the second hurlock should have noticed him. Then run to the ledge and when the ogre charged all he had to do was spring aside and watch the ogre fall. Which left only one hurlock, which was as fair a fight as could be asked for.

Alistair moved for his sword and the sound of the scales in his armor echoed off the walls. Crap! Leather might have been the better choice when going for stealth, even if he looked and felt ridiculous, not to mention the pain in his groin from where the leather kept biting him. Alistair lay perfectly still as one of the hurlock entered the guardroom. It bent over one of the other dead, gave him a solid kick, looked at him a bit more before it shrugged and moved to the next – Alistair.

Alistair had closed his eyes, it would know he was alive right away if he had been looking. The hurlock made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and Alistair could smell the foul beast as it bent down to watch him.

Without thinking much on his carefully laid plan Alistair opened his eyes, found the target and gave it the best swing he could with his sword. The blow connected though only glancing and the hurlock gave a jump backwards. Alistair rolled over onto his belly and started to rise, waving with his sword while doing so to keep the darkspawn away – with some luck. As Alistair rose the second hurlock entered the room. Alistair could actually see the relief on the first hurlock's features as his friend entered the fight. Without thinking too much Alistair saw an opening and took it. The first hurlock that had been so relieved to see a friend died in a single stroke. Alistair had lunged for the upper torso, but as the hurlock leaned back to avoid the blow Alistair had caught it in the throat instead and with a crunchy sound it had fallen to the floor with a minor fountain of blood flowing from his neck.

The other hurlock gave a cry of rage and charged Alistair who was still dazed from both the kill as well as the blow he had taken earlier. He felt a strike hit his left arm and then nothing. The blow had not pierced the armor but Alistair couldn't quite feel it anymore, just the sort of numbness that Alistair knew was a bad sign. The hurlock started another swing, this time with both hands – if it connected then Alistair would not be able to rise again, and they both knew it.

The weight from the armor and the injuries become all too clear. There was no way Alistair could prepare a parry or attack in time. Alistair made a jump against the hurlock who abandoned the strike to get out of his way, but Alistair didn't stop as the hurlock moved, but kept running as best he could, past the hurlock and through the door. He was going to die, but at least he would warn Loghain and save the king. What awaited in the beacon room was not quite what he had expected though. The ogre had not joined the fighting and now he saw why, it was trying to throw the huge bronze bowl which served as beacon over the edge of the tower. Without giving much thought to anything, least of all to the hurlock who was running just behind him with a raised sword, Alistair charged the ogre stabbing his longsword deep into the giant beasts thigh. In anger it gave him a forceful kick knocking him into the wall with such force that he lost track of what happened next. When he came to, both hurlock and ogre was gone, but so was the beacon.

He must have dozed off, but the next thing that happened was a group of soldiers charging into the beacon room, walking to him but despite the fact that they were talking Alistair didn't hear anything, and then everything made way for the darkness.


Alistair awoke in the early hours of morning by the world seemed to shake. It took him almost a minute to realize that he was in an open wagon along with a score of other wounded. Everything hurt, everything, especially when the wagon gave a little jump due to the uneven road.

"What happened?" his throat burned as he spoke.

A young woman appeared at his side, smiling kindly at him. She looked angelic, the maker could not have created a more perfect creature.

"Shh, don't talk. You are alive, as is your friends." The girl made a sweeping motion to indicate they were right next to the wagon but despite an effort Alistair couldn't raise his head.

"You can speak to them shortly, they will be happy to know you pulled through." Again she smiled so kindly at him.

"Try to get some rest." She gave him a kiss on his forehead, a spoon of something sticky-sweet before she moved on to the next patient. Sleep claimed him again, this time it was far more pleasant though, thoughts of great glory mixed with the kind girl's smile.

It stood in stark contrast to the sight that met him when he awoke. The dwarf that had just been admitted into the Wardens stood over him only a hand away from Alistair face, his breath foul enough to wake the dead. "He's up!" The dwarf announced and a few more heads appeared near the edge of the wagon.

"How are you doing Alistair?" it was not the angel but Elissa who asked, she looked like her usual grim self.

He tried to reply but not a sound came, water did though as he was handed a skin from the dwarf.

"Thank you" Alistair took one more swig before handing it back to the dwarf. "I am fine."

Elissa gave a nod though she couldn't hide that she was worried. "One of the senior Gray Wardens asks for you to join him when you can walk." Alistair nodded though it only weakly registered.

"What happened?"

"We lost the fortress, lad" the dwarf cut in. "Loghain never charged." Such a small task and yet still he had failed. Alistair wanted to fall asleep and never wake up.

"What happened in the tower Alistair?" It was Elissa who asked again, though she sent the dwarf a glare which could turn a hotspring to ice.

"We were attacked" he said dully, the memories was only fragments and not in order. "They must have sneaked up on us, and then the ogre hit me." he stopped, his memories died out. He felt like such a fool.

"And then?" Elissa asked, her tone was kind though. There was no rush and he felt his shoulder get a light squeeze.

He tried to remember. "I awoke and did something stupid, that was all I remember" His fellow Wardens looked at each other.

"The darkspawn in the tower was dead when we came to find you, Alistair, you must have killed them." He just shook his head. Elissa and the others let the matter be.

"He must be hungry, come Duran, lets get him some lunch."

"You can bring it girly" the dwarf laughed and took another swing from his own bottle. "Get some for me while you are at it." She gave him another glance but let it be.

Alistair lay back, his head still hurting but less so now. It was all his fault, if he had not agreed to switch guard with one of the other soldiers they might have lit the beacon in time. Loghain would have charged and the fortress saved...

Things fell into place – if the fortress fell then what of Ducnan, what of the king?

"Duran?" the dwarf gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Is Duncan alive?" Silence. Alistair couldn't see the dwarf as he was walking next to the wagon, so he raised himself to a sitting position again.

Duran shook his head. "I am sorry lad, he didn't make it. He died to save the king, I am told." It was like a blade in his chest. Duncan had died due to Alistair's foolishness.

Duty pressed the next question. "The king?"

"He is not among the survivors. He died along with many others in the time just before we opened the First Gate." Alistair fell back, his vision was swimming and the tears were already forming. So much death!

Alistair heard himself speak, everything seemed so detached. "It is my fault."

"Nay lad." Duran's deem voice lay in the air like a warm blanket, comforting. "They died as they would have wished it." He paused for a moment before continuing. "The beacon would not have made much difference." the dwarf said at last. "If what I understand of the teyrn is true then he would have known something was wrong when the big charge came and would have acted if he thought he could win."

Alistair didn't have a response for that, there was nothing to say. It was possible that Duran was correct, but even so. He felt the wagon's movement, it hurt his body but suddenly he felt so sleepy and everything faded, faded to the nothingness of black despair.


The next day Alistair felt strong enough to walk around a bit, but that was not the only change in camp. The teyrn's men had joined the survivors, and according to gossip they had not been even close to the darkspawn. When the charge had come they had all been ordered to turn homewards back to Denerim. The King's body had also been recovered, something that seemed to weigh heavily in camp.

He had seen the Warden who had asked for him. They had talked about of future plans though none had been certain. The elder wardens were inclined to travel to Orlais and see why they brothers had been so delayed, and had asked that Alistair and the other new Wardens go to visit the arl Eamon. The Wardens wanted to know why he had been delayed but also to ensure that when called for, Eamon would answer. Alistair had gotten a whole list of tasks that he and the 'other new Wardens' were suited for. What mattered now was to gather a new army and send at the darkspawn's new fortress at Ostagar. They must not be allowed a stronghold.

When they finally arrived at the West Road Alistair was more than happy to part ways with the main bulk of the army. Certain rumors were traveling that the Gray Wardens had been instrumental for the loss at Ostagar, and while many of the soldiers who had fought with the Wardens tried to quell them, it simply wasn't enough to turn the ever growing rumor.

The senior Gray Wardens who could still move had left a day ago, leaving Alistair with a sealed letter for arl Eamon, which supposedly also contained their own next assignments. Something which was accepted as a silly notion by most of their group, but never the less, it was done.

Alistair felt much better after having left the retreating army. The hygiene had been poor and so had the air, the only thing that had been worse than the hygiene had been the food, which should say quite a bit about the food. Alistair had considered tagging along to Lothering, as it might help their meager provisions, but Tamlen had assured him that he and Lyra would provide the food – which they had.

The two of them had even frayed the rabbits of their skin and had begun to prepare it for later use when Alistair voiced the question as to who would be cooking. Both Elissa and Duran had admitted that they knew next to nothing of standing on their own, having been waitered on most of their life. They were as likely to burn the rabbits to a crisp as to sever them raw – which left Alistair to burn the rabbits to a crisp since he didn't have the heart to tell the elves that his cooking skills were pretty bad as well. After the first night Lyra had volunteered to take the chore meaning that she and Tamlen had taken shifts doing the cooking from there on, in the end it all worked out quite well.