Chapter Four
The Mages Didn't Make Enough
What have I done?
The dog, Lethallin, whined at her as he trailed behind. Without thinking, she absently scratched his head and fed him a piece of dried meat she always kept in her pack for emergencies. The girl, Elena, was off in the Wilds doing some Warden ritual, as she understood it, and had left the Mabari in her care. Not that she minded…Lyna wondered, vaguely, if the girl knew what the word 'lethallin' meant to her people. It wouldn't surprise her, really. She and Azalia seemed to be on friendly terms and the mage had already displayed at least some knowledge of her heritage. There were times she even spoke like she was one of the Dalish.
"At least you are bearable," she told the dog as she found a secluded spot on the other side of the bridge where they'd entered. Staring at the view of the Wilds it afforded her, she sat down and shifted slightly only when Lethallin sat on his haunches right beside her, ever vigilant. Stroking the dog's coat, Lyna sighed and leaned her head against his tiredly. "Perhaps I should speak with Keeper Marethari about getting one or two of your kind whenever I go back." Whenever that will be. "You are quite intelligent, aren't you?"
He barked once, licking her cheek before snuggling closer, though his gaze stayed routed on the forest where he knew his master was.
Lyna smiled slightly. She had her wolf summon, of course. With a few gestures of her hand and a brief puff of blue smoke, her wolf's golden eyes stared at her calmly with an almost curious expression on her face as she gazed up imperiously at the Mabari next to her.
She left the two to their staring contest, instead staring to the east where barely any trace of her forest could be seen. She missed home already with a yearning that pressed against her chest so hard she could hardly breathe at times. But a life debt she would repay to the mage as promised – her own and Tamlen's…even if he was furious with her. He hadn't wanted her to go – not alone.
Goddess protect me so that I may return to his side, she thought, her eyes closed as she prayed to Mythal. She knew of Blights…she also knew that they were not easily ended and could take years to squash. Lyna couldn't say she'd ever really seen a darkspawn before, though she'd caught a glimpse of the corpse of one that the shemlen man had been showing the others in camp. They were horrid, ugly abominations, though they seemed to possess flesh and bone as any other. If a blade could pierce them, so could her arrows, and she was a fierce Dalish hunter. Hunters feared nothing that could be felled by the steel of their blades or the tips of their arrows.
Even so, the disquiet in her heart would not rest.
She didn't trust shemlens…let alone trust a battle plan created by one. They knew nothing of honor or loyalty and betrayed those who trusted them at the drop of a hat, as far as she could see. Being unfamiliar with the area as she was, Lyna stood, her wolf and Lethallin trailing after her as she strode purposefully back towards the camp.
Duncan was, fortunately, right where she'd seen him last, staring thoughtfully into the blazing fire beside him. He turned when he saw her coming, nodding with a small smile. "Ah…Lyna, was it? What can I do for you?"
"I wish to see the battleground." Surely it couldn't be that surprising? Not enough to warrant such a look. "I presume I shall be helping you fight, yes?"
"Would you indulge me if I asked why?"
Lyna narrowed her eyes, considering. He didn't seem to be anything other then curious, to her eyes. "I wish to get to know the land." Lower in tone, because even she knew enough to know not to say such things loudly in a camp full of shemlen, "I wish to take in escape routes and such in case it should be necessary. I do not trust your tactician…the shemlen who makes your plans."
"The Teyrn is a great war hero," Duncan told her, though Lyna noticed he didn't disagree. He didn't even seem shocked by anything she said, furthering her suspicions that she should definitely have a few plans of her own. Always wise, Junar had once told her, to see all paths out of a forest instead of just one. Just in case. "You will need a writ of passage to exit the camp, but…" Grabbing a piece of vellum, he wrote something on it for a few moments before handing it to her with a small smile. "Just hand it to guard. I would suggest coming back before sundown, however. The Wilds are not a safe place."
Lyna nodded, though she gave Duncan a curious look. He wasn't bad, for a shemlen, but he confused her. "Why…?"
"Better to see all paths out of a forest instead of just one, yes?" He chuckled deeply. "A friend once told me such. A Dalish, like yourself. Wiser advice I've never been given." That said, he turned around to stare at something in the flames she could not see, and Lyna left to go scouting as she'd wanted.
Not bad…for a shem. She sighed audibly. Did nothing to quell the disquiet in me, however.
Elena liked to think of herself as a sympathetic sort of girl. She'd always given a few silvers to the needy and had frequently visited the alienage in Highever whenever possible – admittedly, it'd been infrequent since escaping unnoticed had always been difficult, but she'd managed – to do whatever it was she could to make their lives even the tiniest bit better.
If she had to listen to Ser Jory whine and fret one more time, however, even Elena didn't know what she was liable to do.
Azalia's pain had only gotten worse as they'd trudged through the Korcari Wilds, sometimes to the point where she had to stop and take a second because it knocked the breath out of her. Alistair, the cheeky Warden accompanying them all, had only shaken his head sadly and told them the quicker they finished this, the sooner her pain would stop. It offered Elena little comfort, however, every time her friend's face twisted in agony.
The knight from Redcliffe went on and on with his fretting, however…and Elena's already thin patience was seriously in danger of breaking. She understood his concern – she really did – but could he not shut up?
They returned to Duncan just as the last remnants of light faded from the sky, casting an eerie blanket over the camp as night fell. He nodded, pleased as they handed him the treaties they'd received from the witch Morrigan and her mother, though he didn't seem particularly bothered by their presence either way. Elena wasn't either, truthfully, but she'd figured she should tell him just in case.
As Duncan handed the viles of darkspawn blood over to one of the mages who came over, he frowned in obvious displeasure at something the mage said before departing and motioned for Alistair to join him a few feet away. As they spoke, she tried not to listen, but in the eerie silence of the camp it was hard not to hear them anyway.
"The mages seem to have only made enough for three to take the joining," Duncan sighed, obviously displeased. "One will have to wait until after the battle to join. The mage can not wait, Alistair. You have seen them; who else should?"
"If we wait any longer I think Ser Jory might run for the hills, crying to his mother," Alistair whispered back. "I think he might be best to wait…it'll give him time to reconsider."
"His skills would be valuable, though," Duncan sighed. "I would prefer it be between Daveth and Elena, though both are good candidates as well…"
She couldn't help it; Azalia was making that face again as if someone were twisting her insides with a knife and the knight looked as if he would complain again, spurring Daveth to snipe at him again, so Elena tossed propriety to the wind and walked over, motioning to the three of them. "Have them do it. I can wait. Just…please. She's getting worse."
Both Duncan and Alistair shared a look before nodding. "Very well." Duncan set a hand on her shoulder, smiling slightly. "Perhaps you would like to join Lyna? I believe she and your dog are enjoying some dinner. When the battle is over, we will have you take the Joining as well."
Elena nodded once, and she registered a small hint of respect flash in Alistair's eyes when he smiled at her before she turned away, pausing once only to wish Azalia luck.
Despite her pain, the confusion on her face was obvious. "You will not be taking it too?"
"After the battle," she told her, smiling. "Don't worry. I'll be with Lyna and Lethallin when it's over."
Reluctantly, Azalia nodded and left with the rest of them.
Sighing once they were out of sight, Elena dropped by the kennels to give the handler the flower for the Mabari and snuck over to retrieve the stash from the Circle of Magi's trunk, vaguely wondering what happened to the prisoner when she saw he was no longer in the cages.
It took quite awhile to actually track Lyna down once she was all done, mostly because all elves seemed to look the same to everyone. Elena had to bite her tongue a few times before the guard who'd so helpfully told her about Ostagar earlier said she was across the bridge, eating alone.
Sitting on one of the many elevated archer's platforms, her bare feet dangled over the edge while Lethallin sat eagerly below, hoping for scraps. When he saw her, however, he bounded over with a yip and tackled her in an exuberant greeting.
"They didn't make enough," she chuckled with a shrug at the elf's curious glance. "I'll just have to wait a little longer before I become a Grey Warden."
Elena doubted Lyna cared much, but she nodded slightly anyway as if it explained everything, nibbling on what looked like chicken before tossing the bones carelessly to the ground for Lethallin. Not that they ever particularly touched said ground. Most disappeared in midair.
They sat in a peaceful silence, her eating and Elena scratching Lethallin behind his ears, before Azalia came running across the bridge, grinning and looking much healthier.
"The Joining is done?"
"The Order's newest Grey Warden, at your service!" Azalia did a jaunty bow, her grin threatening to split her face. Less cheerfully, she said, "Daveth and Ser Jory didn't make it."
Elena didn't ask what she meant by 'didn't make it'. She suspected it didn't just mean they'd be moping around camp though. Alistair had slipped a few times when they spoke, speaking as if…well, as if some of them wouldn't survive the Joining to become Wardens. As it was, she was just grateful Azalia seemed fine and in no visible pain.
"Duncan is looking for you both," she said, and her smile slipped back onto her face. "He wants to let you know where you'll be during the fighting."
I did tell Fergus I wished I could come fight with him here, Elena mused as nerves made her hands start twitching. Too bad he doesn't even realize I will. Glancing at Lyna, the elf only nodded and jumped to the ground, graceful as a swan but looking as lethal as any predator that stalked Thedas.
Sighing, Elena checked her own weapons were all in place before trailing after them, Lethallin pressed comfortingly into her leg. Maker watch over us.
Darkspawn.
Azalia's lip curled in disgust as she saw the evil things, several genlocks overpowering one of the tower's guards before any of them could get there. So much for this being an easy job. Still, she stayed back while Alistair and the other two tower guards who'd joined them charged forward, blades hacking through the darkspawn with well aimed precision.
"Down you go!" Alistair yelled when he killed another of them, making Azalia almost lose her concentration and laugh. He was, admittedly, not her favorite person on first meeting, but it was hard not to be amused by his easy humor and sarcasm.
Or his really blatant attempts to flirt with your friends. Even through the haze of her pain, she'd seen the looks he would give Elena's back in the Korcari Wilds once they finished fighting some darkspawn – an awed, quite interested look as she'd dispatched darkspawn as easily as any of them. Her fluid style of fighting was admittedly amazing to watch, yes, but the blush on his face when he'd noticed she'd seen him staring had given him away. Badly.
The stuttering hadn't helped matters, either.
"What are darkspawn doing in the tower?" Alistair said in hushed tones as the hit the Tower of Ishal's second level. "They weren't supposed to be here!"
"I thought you said you wanted to fight?" Azalia taunted back, smirking at the look that crossed the templar's face.
"Hey…you're right. I guess there's a silver-lining for everything." He even grinned, briefly, before he said more seriously, "In any case, we must hurry. Teyrn Loghain will be waiting for our signal."
More and more darkspawn greeted them as they made their way to the top level of the tower, sometimes swarming them so much Azalia had to resort to fighting up close herself. Iron was perhaps the weakest of staffs, though. Any hit only dazed the darkspawn at best, requiring she hit them at least three more times before they went down for good. It was during those fights that the two guards often passed out, unable to be healed until only she and Alistair could deal with the rest. That was always unpleasant and generally took longer then either of them liked.
"I need a better staff," she panted once they'd finally reached the room where the door to the tower's top floor was. The tip of her staff was bending slightly from all the hitting she was using it to do as well. So much for it being good quality iron.
"We'll add it to the things to do if we get out of here alive," Alistair joked. "I'm sensing trouble on the top floor; we ready?"
Azalia finished tending to the last of the injuries and downed a lyrium potion to restore her reserves, tossing the empty flask behind her so that it shattered harmlessly on the floor. She felt a little…giggly…but she wasn't addled. Not yet, anyway. She could drink at least two more before the lyrium went to her head and made her useless.
They all charged up the stairs at a run, almost breaking through the top floor door in their haste, though they all skidded to a stop as they saw what was waiting for them.
She'd never seen an ogre before…just drawings in a copy of "The Creatures of Thedas" that the Circle's library had. They were uglier then the drawings had shown and nothing could've prepared her for the stench of its breath when it roared at them and started charging, the ground shaking with every monstrous step.
Azalia found a nice, out of the way spot and fired bolt after bolt of energy at the thing, though soon she had to resort to purely healing as one hit from the ogre seemed to knock nearly all the life out of his targets. Nothing even seemed to injure it. She cast a frost spell, wondering if magic might help, but she almost immediately regretted it.
The ogre twitched, shaking the remnants of ice off before it whirled and roared, knocking the others off their feet and staring right at her. Azalia cursed, quite vehemanantly, and ran as it charged after her.
"Don't run!" Alistair shouted after her. She could hear the clanging of his splintmail as he tried to catch up to them. "You're not supposed to run!"
"Well playing dead is not going to work with this one, I think!" she shouted right back, jumping with an inexcusably girly 'eep' to avoid the ogre's fist that came swooping down low to knock her feet from under her. "You think swooping is bad? Flying through the air is worse!"
Azalia ran several circles around the floor, the three warriors clanging tiredly behind the tireless ogre like little ducklings, before a remnant of an idea even came to her. She did a burst of speed to get a little distance before whirling quickly, the cone of cold spell blasting from her hands as the ogre swung its hands for her.
He froze mid-motion, those fists inches from her head, and Azalia sighed in relief before darting out of the way. The spell would last ten seconds at most, but by then Alistair and the others could hopefully grab its attention again.
It seemed like an eternity before the massive creature actually stumbled, giving the opening Alistair needed. The templar leapt into the air, shield in front of him and blade pulled back before he impaled it into the ogre's neck, blood spraying as the thing fell back and landed with a heavy thud.
Elena would've loved to see that, Azalia thought inanely, sitting down on a nearby crate. "Finally." Her legs protested even minimal movement, unused to so much running and reminding her just how much she would have to train. She needed those muscles in her arms and legs again; maybe even some training with using her staff to fight. Either that or she'd need to find some blades that could channel magic; they existed, though in Ferelden such things were rare. Such weapons were more common in Tevinter, from what she remembered. Her memory of blade training was passable though compared to using a staff, albeit rusty from lack of practice.
Alistair tossed a torch into the beacon and sighed as the tinder lit up in brilliant flames, "I could eat an entire cow right now…"
This was, of course, seconds before the tower's door was broken right off its hinges and darkspawn filled the upper floors.
It all happened so fast she didn't even have time to shoot off a spell. The arrow pierced her neck with such force Azalia fell backwards off the crates and gasped. Her vision faded, something shrieked in her head, as if it was calling to her, and she only briefly saw Alistair take a few hits as well, overtaken by the darkspawn.
She passed out before his body even hit the floor.
Battle wasn't foreign to Lyna; she'd seen her share of fights in life, although not quite as grand scale as this one, perhaps. Her targets generally weren't so…massive, either. While taking a hit to her chest from an ogre's fist had wounded her pride more then inflicted any physical damage thanks to the healing magic of the nearby mage, it was enough for her to realize she would have to change tactics, somewhat.
While she was quite capable in close combat, Lyna didn't like using blades unless she had people she trusted at her back. Multi-tasking between offense and defense was difficult for her; she usually had to do one or the other and trust in Tamlen or Fenarel to watch her back. But they weren't here, she thought listlessly for the umpteenth time since the battle had begun. They were still with the clan, moving north and away from the Blight.
Elena Cousland, the shemlen who was apparently rather high up in their hierarchy from all accounts, was fighting nearby with her own dual blades and making blood arch in the air with every swing. Lyna had a small respect for her, even, though her handling of a bow was embarrassing at best. Most darkspawn fell to her blade with one strike, however, though two more only took their place even before the beast fell.
Protect her. The flat-ear mage's words echoed in her head; her request before joining the other Warden in their own task. Something about a tower? Lyna rather wished she'd paid a bit more attention to what that silly shemlen had been grumbling about. She must live. Promise you will do this for me.
A promise is a promise. Rather purposefully, she kept close to Elena, forgoing her bow altogether; it was all but useless in melee combat, after all. She didn't like that the darkspawn creatures were managing to back them up against the ruin walls, effectively trapping them. As subtly as she could, Lyna migrated both her and Elena closer towards the forest's edges and away from such a potential disaster. If they had to make a break for it, they had at least three escape routes from here that she'd managed to scout out. While running from any fight irked her pride, Lyna knew better then anyone the value of picking her fights wisely.
One could not defeat her enemies when dead after all.
"The beacon's been lit!" some nearby soldier shouted, relief obvious in his tone. Lyna glanced quickly towards the tower, the blazing fire quite obvious all the way to Orlais, probably. Its lighting seemed to rejuvenate the soldiers around her, relieved that reinforcement's would now come and allow them to squash the darkspawn numbers from both sides as planned.
Only…no one came.
The despair was thick in the air; confusion, betrayal for those who were quicker to catch on, and the stifling feeling of resignation as five, then ten, then twenty minutes passed. Lyna wasn't surprised; she'd suspected this might happen. She had no intention of dying here, either.
"To the forests!" she shouted. Under normal circumstances, she was sure none of the warriors present would've listened to her. The shemlens were so desperate though – so in need of direction – that barely a handful even bothered to stare at her in obvious distaste. Most simply followed her as she moved, dragging a cursing Elena who was spitting nails and cursing the Teyrn in a tongue Lyna was unfamiliar with. Lethallin trotted beside her, occasionally darting forward to tackle a stray darkspawn that got in their way.
She led the shemlens deep into the Wilds, ears twitching as she strained to listen. She could hear others stomping through the forests, obviously getting the same idea of retreating, but she heard the quieter whispers of men slinking through the marshes and trees, their pace languid and in no hurry. Lyna suspected it was the Teyrn's men, but saying so to the shemlens behind her would serve no purpose other then to rile them needlessly.
She didn't stop until they were deep into the Wilds near one of its many bodies of water, though this one seemed somehow cleaner then most. Not tainted, yet, by the darkspawn filth. The shemlens who'd followed her dove at it greedily, faces dripping with it as they drank and, once quenched of thirst, cleaned themselves. Even the dog took a running leap into a nearby puddle, whining happily as he rinsed himself clean.
Lyna did a cursory rinse of herself to clean off the blood and drank a few handfuls before climbing into a nearby tree, standing at the highest branch she could find to look out. A village stood to the far north, still maybe a day's walk away; that seemed as good a place as any to drop them all off. She had absolutely no intention of traveling with so many of them, after all.
Pulling the thin vial of blood that hung on a leather cord around her neck from under her light armor, Lyna stared at it almost ruefully. The mage yet lived. Had she perished, the vial's contents would've disappeared. It was old elven magic that only Keepers knew these days and was used only in the cases of life debts and such – and just for this reason. Ignorance was no excuse, in their ways, for leaving a debt unsettled.
The only question, now, was where she was.
Had she a bit of magic, Lyna could figure it out, but she had no idea. All she knew was that the blood would get brighter – fresher looking – when she was within a certain distance from her. Looking at it, the liquid was somewhere between fresh and old – in the forests, then. At least one Grey Warden had survived, then. With Mythal's blessing, others did as well. Ending a Blight and thus settling her debt to the mage with just her as the sole surviving Warden would be…difficult.
Satisfied once a plan of action was in her head, Lyna went to find Elena who was oddly quiet, now that she wasn't spitting angry. It was, perhaps, a wild guess on her part, but Lyna had a feeling she knew what plagued her mind and caused such a disparaged expression. "The mage yet lives," she told her, and Elena's shift in expression confirmed that her suspicions had been right.
The girl's expression fell somewhat when she showed her the vial. "Is that…blood?"
"If the mage were dead, it would vanish," she explained. "It will appear fresher the closer we are to its owner. It is an old ritual of the elvhen when one owes a life debt."
"Sounds like what the templars do to track apostates and maleficar," she mused.
Lyna snorted disdainfully. "Where do you think your chantry picked up their trick in the first place?" She let the vial fall back under her armor, safely hidden. "We make way to a town north of here, then to find the mage." She glanced down, taking in the already impressive swelling along Elena's left calf. "Perhaps you can have that treated."
"What?" Surprised, the girl looked down, and widened her eyes. "Oh. I didn't even feel it…"
This will be a long night. With a sigh, Lyna settled herself in the trees again once the girl wandered off to deal with her injury, albeit lower to the ground while others found semi-comfortable places to sleep as well. They had no tents or anything soft to speak of to sleep on, but that had never stopped a warrior from getting a few hours of well deserved rest – none worth thinking about, anyway. As she drifted off, Lyna's only thought was, Tamlen would laugh himself sick to see me right now.
An hour after waking with her head feeling like it had been split open but no obvious sign of injury to her body otherwise, Azalia tried – and failed – to recall if any of her studies had shown her how to turn people into toads…or marsh bunnies.
By themselves, she enjoyed Alistair and Morrigan's company. Alistair was her brother in arms now and had a sense of humor that generally never failed to lift her spirits despite her constant worries. Aside from a few brief lapses while they spoke of Duncan, he'd remained in relative good spirits, though the loss of the rest of their order was a horrible blow to him. She could sympathize, though she hadn't even known any of the others except Duncan.
"Have you ever lost someone important to you?" he'd asked her at one point.
She had to close her eyes to bar the tears, images of her parent's faces in her mind. Her father's face that had always remained young even despite his time around humans and stern set of his lips was the most vivid to her. Damyan Vindahl, she remembered with a sad smile. That was her family's name…Vindahl. She'd actually forgotten it at some point over the years.
Her mother's face was hazier, not as distinct, but she did remember the ethereal paleness of her blond hair and the soft but firm tones Udia had always spoken with. Hadn't Elena once said she'd had her eyes, too? Elven blue, Fergus had once jokingly told her. Humans never had eyes her particular shade of blue. They were bright, clear, and vivid with an almost piercing quality when met head on.
Her expression as she recalled their faces said it all since Alistair had only nodded in understanding when she'd simply said, "Something like that."
Morrigan, on the other hand…Azalia had to think of her as an Everoot. It was a spice native to the lands around Highever that not many used when cooking, mostly because of its unique flavor that was something of an acquired taste. She, personally, didn't mind it so much and Morrigan was very much an acquired taste. She was ruthlessly practical and very black-and-white with a demeanor that made it very hard to get to know her, but the wealth of magical knowledge in her head superseded all the other off-putting stuff about her…at least to Azalia. It made her practically giddy when Morrigan tossed out a tidbit she didn't know of, very much aware that it showed and even caused the witch to chuckle a few times. She was much more open about sharing her knowledge of natural poisons and such, however.
Ironically, Everoot was apparently much more popular around Thedas as an ingredient for a particularly lethal poison.
Place the two of them together, however, and Azalia's patience was in danger of seriously wearing thin.
"I…hate you," Morrigan hissed after Alistair made a comment suggesting a similarity in appearance between her and Flemeth, to which the templar only laughed.
"You do realize she is likely to turn you into a toad in your sleep," Azalia confided when he fell into step beside her.
Alistair didn't look particularly concerned. "You know, I thought that, but I actually was paying attention when you said mages didn't have spells like that, you know."
"Circle mages," she stressed, grinning when his expression faltered. "I was more curious then most, but I was still Circle trained. Who can say what Morrigan knows? She was trained by Flemeth."
Suitably paranoid now that he had that to ruminate on, Alistair spent the remainder of their walk towards Lothering keeping a trained eye on Morrigan. At one point the witch even joined her up front and instigated a conversation, though it was more to settle her curiosity then to actually be friendly.
"I have a wonder," she began as a bridge came into view in the far distance. Off to the side of the road, a shoddy wooden sign for Lothering confirmed it was right up ahead. "You are a mage of the Circle, yet…" Morrigan eyed her robes and hands somewhat pointedly. "Your spells seem more similar to my own then anything the sycophants of the tower would dare teach."
Azalia actually laughed at that. "I was more curious then most," was all she would tell her. "And I liked to read. A lot. Especially the books from Tevinter."
"Bandits ahead," Alistair warned them, interrupting whatever Morrigan had planned to say to that.
She withdrew her staff from behind her without thinking, eyes narrowing. There were maybe half a dozen of them and they seemed to be on the verge of attacking two refugees that were up ahead.
Sure enough, one bandit let out a battle cry…though it was short lived seeing as his head went flying through the air seconds later. Eyes narrowed, relief surged through her as Azalia recognized a familiar dog lunge at the leader, knocking him to the ground as he went for the jugular. After she'd awoken, she hadn't been able to bring herself to even dare hope…but it was them, alright. She'd recognize Elena's one-strike-kill fighting style anywhere.
"Elena!"
Both women ahead whirled, though Lyna seemed a bit jumpy as she shot an arrow straight at her before she'd even registered who it was. Azalia ducked before it could actually hit her, though, and the shaft slammed into a tree trunk behind her, vibrating from the impact.
Relief was quickly replaced by irritation. "Is that a common greeting style among the Dalish? Huh? This is the second time you've nearly run my head through with an arrow!"
Lyna seemed to consider it for a moment. "Sort of, yes. Fenarel, Tamlen, and I often greeted each other similarly."
Azalia rolled her eyes, hugging Elena when her friend embraced her with a relieved sigh. "I'm glad to see you made it out."
"Barely." Elena was practically spitting as she relayed their escape. To be honest, Azalia wasn't even surprised that Lyna had been the one to lead them from the field. She'd actually counted on her natural distrust of humans in case anything had gone wrong.
"That's good, at least," Alistair sighed when he heard at least a dozen men had escaped with them.
"I wouldn't be too relieved," Lyna pointed out. "The Teyrn's men stumbled upon our camp and slaughtered them during the night. No one but us survived."
"No witnesses," Morrigan said with a nod. "Tis' a most practical response."
Azalia had to pinch Alistair on the side before he could snap at the witch. "Well this can't get much worse…"
Elena's expression said otherwise. "There's…more." Pulling something from her pack, Azalia eyed the parchment curiously as she unfurled it.
She damn near burned it by the time she and Alistair, who'd read it over her shoulder, finished it.
"We're WHAT!"
Morrigan took the parchment before she could set it on fire in her anger, reading it calmly and smirking ever so slightly in amusement. "My, but you do have interesting enemies. Grey Wardens, wanted for regicide and treason. Quite a hefty sum, too, though I personally have little use for such things."
"We shouldn't stay in Lothering too long," Elena cautioned, eyeing Morrigan in unabashed curiosity. "It won't be safe."
Lyna nodded her head in agreement. "I would be unsurprised if some of the shemlen's men await us in the village." She looked out at the shoddy village in ill disguised distaste.
"I suppose we can look on the bright side," Azalia muttered.
Alistair looked at her as if she were insane. "What bright side? We're wanted for treason and King Cailan's murder!"
She shot him a dark look. "Shout that a bit louder, will you? I don't think Rivain heard you." Fingers twitching, she motioned vaguely at nothing in particular with her arms. "Look at it this way, Alistair. How could this possibly get any worse?"
"Things can only get better," Elena agreed, smiling slightly when he only groaned.
Lyna just had to ruin it. "Unless the archdemon comes swooping down upon us."
Azalia groaned. Alright, so it still could possibly get worse. She shuddered just thinking about it. "Let's just go. Sooner we leave this place the better." Making her way down the steps, she took in the full view of Lothering and sighed. Injured refugees were everywhere, some shooting them dark looks when they saw their weapons.
Lothering; pretty as a picture. Lovely.
A/N:
Looking at my stats, obviously people are reading this, to which I am glad. I'm sad, however, that I don't get much in the way of feedback. In no way do I believe this story is perfect. For those who HAVE bothered to give me their honest opinions thus far, I thank you and hope you will continue to do so. It helps immensely – especially if you catch any errors in wording.
As a side note, I have a poll I'd like to put out there…make this experience more interactive, I guess? There are several points in the story I've been mulling in my head. Given the additional two origins that were added in, it makes the party rather big. I've already decided Shale is unlikely to appear (which is best as I've never gotten her before as a companion), but should some of the others be left out? Leliana is most certainly coming along, as will Zevran (ah, but I have fun plans for him and my favorite mage) and Oghren just because he ROCKS. Which brings me to my questions.
Should I still have Wynne come along with the party? Or Sten?
Where should they visit first after Lothering?
Click the review button and let me know what you think!