A/N: Still here? Good! This one finally brings everyone to Thedas, with a line-up consisting of one warrior, three mages, one rogue and a little girl with magic and the Thu'um, all heading to a land where everyone's scared of magic. Yeah, it goes about as well as you'd expect.
Summary: The Tir Nua expedition is under way, with Madanach leading a small party of experienced people into the unknown... and his five year old daughter. As predicted, nothing goes according to plan, and between the demons and the strange knights whose sole purpose appears to be slaughtering innocent magic users, the whole mission could be over before it's even begun. But it turns out Maia's not the liability she might seem, and this land, however dangerous, is not without friends.
Out in the Fereldan Hinterlands, just north of Dwarfson's Pass, and a Fade rift twisted, sputtered, blazed with light, and then the wraiths twirling vaguely around it all went still at once before focusing on the rift intently.
The rift exploded with light and then an Orc in full heavy armour sprang through it, massive two-handed hammer in his hand as he swung it into the head of the nearest wraith, seeming heedless of five others all sending magic bolts his way at once.
Or four did at any rate. The fifth tried before jerking once then fading into nothingness as two deadly sharp knives pierced its chest, and the short redhead in black leather and a jester's hat that had been responsible cackled and turned to deal with the next.
Then came the battlemage in black and gold leather armour gleaming with enchantments from the gold-feathered shoulders to the gold skulls at his kilt's belt, fire blazing in one hand while the other carried a terrified little girl in fur armour, who he put down as soon as he made it through to solid ground.
"FEIM!" the little girl cried, red curls bouncing behind her as she went ethereal and promptly ran off, cowering behind a nearby rock, watching wide-eyed as the father already regretting bringing her unleashed the full wrath of a Reach-King on the demons.
Last out of the rift were two women, one blonde wearing revealing fur armour and a silvery mask that had once belonged to a Dragon Priest, magic coming from one hand and a green-black mace of evil in the other, and a red-haired high elf in Destruction Master robes with a summoned blade and fire at her disposal. They both set about the one demon currently not being savaged by one of the men, and with the most vicious fighters the Reach and Skyrim had to offer all gathered together, the demons stood no chance.
As soon as all was quiet, the little girl broke cover and ran to cuddle her father.
"Daddy, there were monsters!" little Maia wailed, clinging tearfully on to Madanach. "You said it would be like the portal in Markarth, but there were monsters!"
Madanach hugged Maia and whispered an apology, but she was through it now and hopefully there wouldn't be any more now. But that there'd been creatures of Oblivion in the first place – not good. Keirine had warned him of the possibility, that spirits might be attracted to the portal at the other end. She'd brokered agreements with the local spirits in the Reach to leave travellers alone. Not so on the south of Nirn, and while her scrying had revealed lots and lots of natural holes or weak points in the Veil at the other end that her portal at Hag's End could connect with, she'd also warned of the possibility of attention once the protective corridor she'd established with one closed off.
The corridor had worked just fine, depositing them on solid ground on what he was near certain was Nirn, but what he'd not expected was to find demons already there. Which meant some idiot had just left a hole into Oblivion open for anything to wander into Mundus from, and when Madanach found them, he was going to wring their neck for being so fucking irresponsible – Maia was terrified, look at her!
"We got rid of the monsters, cariad, don't worry," Madanach soothed. "We'll look after you."
Next to him, Cicero was watching, looking grim.
"All right," Cicero admitted. "Cicero is glad his own babies are not here. They are safe from demons at least."
Also something – the display of tears, wailing and pitiful clinging that had accompanied Cicero's farewell to his children had been embarrassing to watch. The twins hadn't looked too happy either, but they'd coped bravely and made their parents promise to come back and tell them the story. Jorrvaskr's influence no doubt, but Madanach had been glad of it if it meant no hysterical wailing off them.
"Yeah," Madanach said, drying Maia's eyes and hoping everyone here was safe too. Which Eola was supposed to be checking.
"Hey, Da?" Eola called, worried. "Er, you might wanna look at this portal. It's… not closing."
"What do you mean, not closing?" Madanach growled, trying to recall Keirine's copious lectures on the topic. "The Veil was Shouted into place by Akatosh and sealed with dragon blood to bind it in his covenant with Alessia, it self-seals if you banish the opening spell."
Next to Eola was their other magical consultant as sent by Keirine, the steward of Hag's End who was taking a sabbatical in order to study this Tir Nua in detail. Liriel of Alinor wasn't quite who Madanach would have chosen, being a bit too distractingly pretty for his liking, but she was skilled with Destruction magic and also skilled in summoning bound weapons thanks to having done mandatory Thalmor basic training before her family got her into a magical research post. She was also a skilled healer, having been seconded to the Aldmeri medical divisions during the war, so Madanach supposed it could be worse, and at least she wasn't mindlessly parroting Thalmor propaganda at him.
Alas, not all traces of the attitude problem of the self-styled Highborn had disappeared.
"Yes, Madanach, we know," Liriel snapped. "We're taught the same things in Alinor, and all experiments we've carried out indicate the Veil self-seals once the summoning is cancelled. Here, it is not. Matriarch Keirine's spell has stopped but the rift in the Veil remains."
"What?" Madanach gasped. "That's impossible." The Veil just didn't do that… did it? And yet he remembered old tales of a time before the Veil, where spirits could wander freely and it was easy to summon anything, in fact the trick was not getting possessed.
"Clearly not, father, because it is right here being possible," Eola snapped. "Take a look."
So Madanach did, with his admittedly limited knowledge of conjuration, and reluctantly he had to agree that Eola and Liriel were right. Here was a hole right into Oblivion, and they had no way of closing it because all their banishing spells assumed the Veil would just seal itself once the thing keeping it open was disposed of.
Absolutely nothing prepared them for a scenario where the Veil just had a hole in it, with nothing keeping it open.
"So, what you're saying, boss, is that we got no way of sealing that thing, and any minute some more of those wraith things – or something worse – might decide to come poking through it," Borkul said, always one to cut straight to the point.
"Um," was all Madanach said, remembering Keirine having been spoilt for choice for ready made entrances, and realising there must be more holes like this, and what in the Void was going on? It took enough magicka to prise open a portal in the Veil long enough to summon one thing through, how much did it take to cause a rift like this? To create more of them? This wasn't deliberate, surely?
Something was very very wrong on this side of the world, and if this was repeating all over the southern half of Nirn, no wonder they'd needed a Dragonborn. But for what?
Slowly, Madanach's eyes shifted to the tiny Dragonborn he'd brought with him, currently peeping out from behind him with Frogella clutched in the hand not currently clinging to his kilt.
Dear gods, why did I ever bring you?
Maia wrinkled her nose, staring at the rift intently, and Sithis only knew what her own still developing magical senses were telling her. But she looked focused, and her next words were entirely unexpected.
"Daddy, did you want me to Shout it shut for you?"
"What?" Madanach began to say, still not used to the concept of a five year old who could Shout… including making herself ethereal, sending things flying, sprinting up and down a room, making clouds go away, summoning storms, breathing fire… Madanach had had several shots of jenever after Maia had confessed Odahviing had taught her half the Dovah tongue from the sound of it, and it turned out child Dragonborns with their still voraciously learning brains didn't need to absorb dragon souls either. They just learnt the language instinctively.
Madanach had nearly cried as he realised he was now in sole charge of a child in command of powers neither of them really understood, and that he couldn't easily dispel. But she was still his baby, and he still loved her, and anyone trying to hurt her would still be utterly destroyed at his hands, and secretly he was a bit proud to be the father of the world's only fire-breathing five year old.
"Yeah, go on then," Borkul was saying to her. "Malacath knows no one else is offering anything."
A bit unfair, but Madanach supposed it couldn't hurt. So Maia stepped forward and took a deep breath.
"STRIN!"
He'd heard her use that one before, giggling as it had closed doors and windows and cupboards and chests, and then Bex to open them again. At least until he'd told her to stop anyway… for a while, until she'd started doing it again, probably thinking he'd forgotten or put a time limit on "Maia, cut it out!"
Thankfully, Keirine's chilling rasp had put a stop to it permanently. Until now.
Madanach bit his lip, hand on Maia's back, feeling Cicero sidling up next to him, clutching his arm and whimpering a bit, while Borkul was at his other shoulder, and Liriel standing nearest to the rift, Eola just behind her, all staring intently as the Shout hit it.
The rift glowed and then, to everyone's relief and amazement, it began to seal, gaping hole narrowing into just a slit – not banished, but definitely sealed.
"YES!" Eola shouted, both fists punching the air while Liriel gasped in amazement, and behind Madanach Cicero squealed and Borkul patted his back and Madanach just stared in stunned amazement before glancing down at the little girl presently beaming up at him.
Madanach knelt down and scooped her up, kissing her on the cheek before cuddling her, forehead to hers.
"I did it, Daddy, look!" Maia whispered.
"You did it!" Madanach laughed, squeezing her. "Who's my talented little Dragon-Rider, hmm?"
Maia giggled, blushing as she snuggled in closer, and Madanach kissed her again before putting her down.
"All right," he said, surveying the little group he'd brought with him. A loyal bodyguard who'd insisted on coming, an elven scholar who his sister swore would be an asset, two daughters, namely one tiny little Dragonborn witchlet and a fully grown spellsword dressed from head to toe in magical artefacts from one adventure or another… and the idiot son-in-law in the Dark Brotherhood gear and the ridiculous hat. As parties went, it was an odd little group but Madanach hoped it would get the job done.
"Now that the excitement is over," Madanach continued, "we appear to have landed where Keirine was trying to get us, which is something. Longitude 180 degrees west of Hag's End, latitude approximately the same as Markarth except on the southern side of the world. As you can see, we have mountains, grasslands, a nice sunny day… I think it is early morning."
"But it was teatime a minute ago!" Maia cried. "It can't be morning already!"
"Back home it is still teatime, or more likely early evening by now," Madanach said, seeing Cicero and Borkul both struggling with this concept. "Here, it is morning. Because we are on the other side of a round planet. Do not make me summon an illusion of Nirn and the Sun again."
Because frankly he'd done enough of staring at that planetary model of Liriel's to last a lifetime and he still wasn't sure about seasons. He'd only just managed to get his head around the idea that the moons would look upside down.
Everything is the other way around. It's day here when it's night back home, it's autumn here when it's spring back home, the moons are the wrong way up, it's cold in the south, not the north, oh, and the sodding Veil is wafer-thin and full of holes.
Madanach really wanted to go home. But the way behind was closed.
Cicero was murmuring something to himself, clearly visualising the sphere to himself, while Borkul still looked confused but wasn't asking questions at least.
"Draw it for me later, yeah Cicero?" Madanach heard the Orc whisper and Cicero nodded. Madanach dearly hoped neither man was still labouring under the Sun-going-round-Nirn delusion – it had been hard enough to explain the concept of the world being round. In particular he'd had to convince Cicero that no, the world did not rest on the back of four mammoths nor was there a giant whale carrying the whole thing through space. Or for that matter a giant carting the world around on his back. Cicero had, on hearing this, asked so how did the world move then, and Madanach's explanation had started with space-time being curved and massive objects attracting each other, and ended with 'it just does, all right?' In the end, Liriel had taken over the explanations, and he'd left her to it. Whatever she'd told them, it seemed to have worked as they'd not asked since.
"But we've already been up for nine hours, one of us is five, which means in about four hours from now we're all going to be exhausted," Eola said cheerfully. "Well, you are. Cicero and I can manage."
"I am not carrying any of you," Cicero added. "Maia, maybe. You three, no."
"Well then, we make the most of what time we have," Madanach said, reaching for his pack. "See if we can find a settlement, otherwise we carry on for as long as we can then make camp. We take it in turns to carry Maia if she gets tired."
Maia was already rubbing her eyes, and with about two hours until her usual bedtime, they didn't have long before she'd have to be carried. But they'd get as far as they could in the meantime. If Madanach could just get a fix on Elisif's location… he thought it was off to what seemed to be the west, but there was a lot of magical interference making it hard to focus. Something else was off in that same direction, radiating magicka into the world, raw, near unharnessable power blasting through the Veil, as if there was a really big rift somewhere drowning out everything. If Elisif was close by it – although he sincerely hoped she wasn't – she'd be aware of little else.
A quick glance in one direction revealed the road leading to a gate with another green rift in front of it. No. Just no. So the other way it was then.
Tracking through grasslands and winding mountain paths, and this place was stunning, it really was. Fresh mountain air, sunshine – this really was one of Keirine's better aiming choices. Maia even rallied with all the new sights and sounds, darting off to look at flowers, especially a particular kind of bright red and green flower that caught her eye, as well as a spindly green herb with pointy leaves.
"Daddy, it's pointy, it looks like elf's ear, look!" Maia called and Madanach did agree it did look a bit like the Elves' Ear herb back home, a distant relative perhaps, and Liriel knelt down next to Maia so as to gather a few samples, excitedly whispering about how this was a whole new land, and none of this had ever been studied before, wasn't it fascinating!
Madanach idly wondered if there were people here already who might already have studied the local wildlife. It might save Liriel some work, although he had a feeling she wouldn't thank him.
And then things went rapidly to the Void as a troop of heavily armoured warriors with a fiery sword on their chestplates stepped out of the trees.
Too well armed to be bandits, but soldiers of the local lord just wouldn't move like this, not step out of hiding like they were doing. Maia, in the act of picking a flower, froze and looked up, and Liriel instinctively moved to shield her.
Before they left, Keirine had made sure to equip all of them with disease immunity charms, and in addition, she'd come up with a means of speaking the local language, whatever it was. Spirits could read thoughts and speak any tongue they wanted, and so her bright idea had been to have them all possessed with weak spirits, not strong enough to take them over but enough to make them fluent. And so the adults had reluctantly agreed. Maia he'd decided against. If kids learnt languages quickly, she'd be fine without.
Liriel could therefore speak the language, but no amount of translation spells could make her anything other than Alinorian nobility who didn't take well to being challenged.
"Have a care, human," Liriel snapped, casting mage armour and bringing fire to her hands. "We're doing no wrong. There's no need to-"
Swords were being drawn, bows raised, and the leader actually laughed.
"Apostates!" he shouted. "Templars, get them!"
Maia shrieked, and ran off to take cover, clearly remembering the instructions she'd had firmly instilled as to what to do if a fight broke out, and Madanach cast his mage armour and drew his axe, ready to fight, and he was pleased to see Eola doing likewise. Liriel meanwhile had raised a ward, and a fireball loomed large in these Templar knights' futures.
Until one of the Templars raised a hand and Liriel's magic blinked out. No fire in her hands. The ward gone, her mage armour gone, and Madanach realised his own was gone too, as was Eola's, his older daughter staring at her hands and wondering just what had happened. All of their magic was gone – it wasn't even as if their magicka had been drained, their magic was just not there. And Liriel, defenceless without it, cried out as a Templar raised her sword to strike.
A golden arrow took the knight right in the visor slit, and then Borkul powered through, berserker rage fuelling the charge, and that was what saved Liriel. The elf promptly fled to take cover, only narrowly avoiding arrows, and Madanach couldn't fault her for that. She was no warrior, not really, and deprived of her magic, she was near-helpless. But Madanach, now, Madanach had been a Forsworn warrior for years and he wasn't abandoning his people. Raising his axe, he sprang into action and was pleased to see one Templar fall before him… but there were a lot of them, and they were well-trained and heavily armoured, and one was taking aim.
Madanach moved just in time to take an arrow in the arm rather than the chest, but the next hit his shoulder and sent him reeling. He lifted his axe but he had a feeling the next would have him, and this wasn't fair, it really wasn't, he'd only just got better, he had a wife to find, a daughter to protect, oh gods, Maia was watching, she was only five, she didn't deserve to see her father die, and nor did Eola, currently trying to block a sword with just a mace and no real training in how to fight without the magic she'd always had.
"FUS RO DAH!"
The Thu'um echoed through the valley, not the full-throated roar of a grown Nord warrior, but powerful enough to send the knights reeling (and Borkul too, caught in the way but he'd changed his stance on hearing the first word and dropped and rolled rather than went flying).
Madanach shook himself down, looking first for one daughter then the other, and Eola was busy smashing her downed assailant's brains out with her mace, shouting at them for Namira to claim them – an odd war cry but as good as any, he supposed. Meanwhile Maia was peeking out from behind a rock, shaking all over but otherwise unharmed.
Or at least she was until one of the knights got up and ran straight for her, sword raised and his hand making that gesture that had switched off their magic before.
Maia's Thu'um was still recharging, her magic likely wasn't working either and all she had was an admittedly sharp ebony dagger and no training in how to use it at all. She wasn't holding it right, she looked terrified, Madanach had no magic either and he wasn't going to get there in time even as he staggered towards her, screaming her name.
He'd expected to see a sword swing down and break his heart. What he got instead was another warrior in blue and silver leaping from out of nowhere and charging into the knight, bellowing a war cry and making swift work of him. Maia shrieked and ran off to where Liriel was beckoning her over to hide with her, and in an instant, Madanach felt his magic switch back on.
Ripping the arrows out, he cast healing magic to close the wounds and turned on the remainder of the knights getting to their feet and preparing to charge, but before they could do that magic-killing trick again, Cicero had emerged on top of a rocky outcrop which offered a far superior view of the sky, raised No Longer Auriel's Bow and pointed it at the sun, one Sun-Hallowed arrow flying at it.
According to Liriel, the sun was actually millions of miles away, so how the fuck that thing actually worked was anyone's guess. But work it did, and sunbursts fell from the sky and knocked the knights down again, screams of pain echoing around the valley.
Madanach narrowed his eyes, summoned his magicka and, fire springing into his hands, waded in to finish this fight once and for all. No one went for his baby girl with impunity, and no one took the King of the Forsworn's magic away. No one.
Screaming, fire and stabbing, and soon it was all over. Borkul was cleaning blood and brains off Volendrung, Eola was doing likewise with what looked horribly like the Mace of Molag Bal, Cicero was flitting from prone body to prone body, emptying their pockets and ensuring they were definitely definitely dead, and Maia… fuck, where was Maia?
"Maia?" Madanach shouted, looking frantically around for her. "MAIA?"
"Here, Daddy!" Maia called from where she was standing clutching Frogella and staring up at the warrior who'd intervened and likely saved her life. He'd not gone anywhere, standing awkwardly on the sidelines and regarding Maia, and indeed Liriel, who was holding Maia's shoulder protectively, with some confusion.
"Maia, thank the gods, are you all right?" Madanach gasped, racing to her side and dropping to his knees to hold her. Dear gods, if anything had happened… He should never have brought her, never, what had he been thinking?
Maia was clinging onto him, pouting and sniffling, and the poor thing, she'd just seen a group of people carved to pieces, she must be terrified. She'd seen him unleash the fury of the elements on them, and that couldn't help but affect her, right? Oh gods, what if she was scared of him now?
But she didn't seem that traumatised, and she was snuggling him, which was a good sign she didn't fear him, and when she stared at him and finally spoke, what was bothering her wasn't what he'd expected.
"They took my magic!" Maia cried, sounding offended and outraged and shocked at the mere idea. "Daddy, they're not allowed to do that! They can't take people's magic away!"
"I know, little one," Madanach said, eyes narrowing as he wondered just who those warriors had been and how they did that… and why they'd declared war as soon as they realised they were mages. "But those ones won't be doing it again. They don't… people who run at innocent little girls waving swords deserve all they get."
The image of that knight running at Maia flashed in front of his mind's eye again, and Madanach had a feeling that even if Maia was all right, he wouldn't be, not for a while yet. He held his daughter closer and kissed the top of her head, and felt Maia hug him in turn.
"Don't be sad, Daddy, we won," Maia whispered. "You showed them! You're the best! And this man saved me!"
Madanach looked up and got his first look at the man who'd just saved his little girl. Blue and silver striped armour, a definite theme of winged lions with eagles' heads on the heraldry, about the same height as Madanach except with a rather more muscular build, and as he took his helmet off, Madanach saw a man in his forties, pale skin, dark hair and a full beard. Human too, which was something. Madanach had idly wondered if there'd be humans here or if it'd be all mer or even beastkin of a kind they'd not discovered yet. But no, there were humans here. That was something, although what manner of human they were remained to be seen. He could, however, be charitable to a man who'd saved his daughter. Even if he and Liriel were eyeing each other up suspiciously.
"Thank you, human – I mean, sirrah," Liriel said, inclining her head. "We were starting to wonder if everyone here was some barbarian – tell me, what's an apostate?"
"You don't know?" the man said, incredulous. "Miss, where exactly are you from that doesn't know about the mage-Templar war? Are you… some sort of elf?"
Liriel's eyebrows shot up, nostrils flaring, but she got her emotions under control swiftly enough.
"Yes. I'm an elf," Liriel said, frowning. "You do have those here, yes?"
"Ye-es," the warrior said uneasily. "Only they're usually shorter. And they're not usually yellow."
Madanach tried not to laugh at the shock on Liriel's face as she realised that while there were humans, there were clearly no Altmer anywhere. Because it wasn't funny, it was going to make them stick out like a sore thumb, and oh gods, if Liriel stood out, what about Borkul?
It had literally never occurred to Madanach that there wouldn't be any elves as they knew them here. This was going to be an issue, but this man hadn't tried to kill Liriel on sight so all was not lost.
"Greetings," Madanach said, getting to his feet and once more forcing the unfamiliar tongue into his brain. "Don't mind Liriel, maybe she's not like the elves you're used to, but she's not a thing of evil. Despite what those Templar people thought. She's a mage and a scholar, but not inherently dangerous… but if any of us having that power bothers you, walk away now."
The warrior inclined his head in response, seeming willing to hear them out at least.
"I can't say it doesn't concern me a little, but you had cause to use it," he said, guarded but not unfriendly in his tone and posture. "Not many parents can witness their child being attacked and not react. The little one is your blood child, isn't she? Not a war orphan you adopted, or an apprentice mage in your care."
"Yes," Madanach said, protective arm around Maia, who was beaming trustingly up at the stranger as if he was the best thing ever. "This is Maia, my youngest child, although she's my firstborn with my second wife. I have others from a previous marriage, one of whom is over there with her husband, and the warrior just joining us is my bodyguard Borkul."
"Morning," Borkul growled, taking up position at Madanach's side. "I need to worry about him, boss?"
"No need for that," the warrior said stiffly, and if he was surprised at the green skin and tusks, he showed no sign of it. "I'm neutral in the current conflict. I'm a Grey Warden, and we're above politics. You need fear no harm from me. I might have judged you dangerous apostates and just let the Templars do their job if you'd been travelling on your own, but not when there's a little one with you. Maybe she's a mage, but she's also a little girl. Too many forget that. And I've seen enough dead kids in my time." He shuddered as if at some memory, and then clear eyes looked up and met Madanach's, nodding with respect. "Name's Blackwall. Warden Blackwall. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Warden Blackwall," Madanach repeated, not sure what a Grey Warden was, but apparently not something to worry about. "Hello there. I'm Madanach ap Caradach, these two are my Eola and her husband Cicero, and you've already met little Maia. Maia, say hello to Warden Blackwall."
Without realising it, he'd instinctively slipped back into Tamrielic when addressing the small child with no translating spirit in her head, and Maia responded in kind.
"Hello Warden Blackwall!" she chirped, dropping a curtsey. "Thank you for saving me!"
Blackwall smiled faintly at words he didn't understand but grasped the intent behind before turning back to Madanach, smile fading.
"You're not from round here, are you," Blackwall said quietly. "Do I want to know how you got fluent in the common tongue, but didn't use the same trick on your little one."
Really and honestly, no, but fortunately Eola stepped forward, mask of Morokei off and all smiles.
"You truly don't, it involves lots of diagrams. And maths," she purred. "All you need to know is that we're just passing through, trying to find Maia's mother. Have you seen her? Tall red-haired warrior woman, really pretty, helmet with dragon's teeth, fiery sword, called Elisif, absolutely adorable but don't challenge her to a fight. She can kill dragons."
Maia didn't understand what Eola was saying but caught her mother's name and promptly turned on her most hopeful smile, beaming up at her saviour, and the combination of Eola's grin and Maia's hopeful little face allayed Blackwall's suspicions a little.
"No, can't say I have," Blackwall admitted. "But if I run into anyone matching that description, I'll be sure to tell her you're here." He looked as if he was thinking hard, before coming to a decision.
"Look, you all look shattered, and I don't think you really know where you're going or how to even start looking for this Elisif woman," Blackwall said thoughtfully. "Tell you what, come back with me. It's not a very big house, but I see what looks like camping gear on those packs, you're welcome to pitch up outside and rest for a bit. Then perhaps I'll share some local news, help you figure out where to go next, yeah?"
It was likely the best offer they were going to get, and Madanach seized on it. Likely he needed all the information he could find.
"We'd be glad to," Madanach said, motioning for Cicero and Borkul to retrieve the gear. "We've been up for hours and it is way past Maia's bedtime."
"Well then, we'd better find her one," Blackwall laughed. "Come on, come with me. It isn't far."
Gear rounded up, and the little party followed Warden Blackwall back to his house. This was a strange new world indeed… but it seemed it was not without friends.
Hours later, and if Blackwall had had any doubts if he was doing the right thing, they'd been allayed. Maia had been dead on her feet by the time they'd reached his cabin, and he'd told her father to borrow his bed for a few hours. Madanach had looked grateful, tucked his child up in bed and then crawled in alongside her, asleep in minutes himself. Meanwhile, Eola had smiled gently at her sleeping father, stroked her little sister's hair before chivvying her husband (definitely a bit touched in the head, that one) outside to help erect the tents.
Blackwall had then watched in amazement as under her direction, three tents materialised out of bent branches and leather, bedrolls being unrolled and then another bag opened and several vicious-looking wooden stakes were hammered into a rough perimeter fence, and a wind-breaker went up too, shielding the tents from the cliff-edge.
"You've done this before," he said, nodding at Eola's work.
"Time-honoured techniques," Eola said, satisfied as she surveyed the camp. "Once learnt, never forgotten. Didn't even live in a walled room until I was seventeen."
Blackwall rubbed his eyes, having to wonder just where exactly they were all from, especially the green-skinned warrior with the tusks and the golden-skinned elf. Borkul could pass for a Tal-Vashoth mercenary… if you weren't terribly familiar with the Tal-Vashoth, of course. Fortunately, few round here were.
Liriel was a different matter – no elf anywhere was taller than humans, and she didn't seem muscled enough to be a Tal-Vashoth… but it was probably her best option. They had pointy ears as well, and most people would never have seen a female one. It'd do as a cover story.
Then there was Cicero, and if Eola seemed like a barbarian tribeswoman fresh off the mountains (and she definitely knew her mountain wildernesses, that was obvious), Cicero seemed like a demented cross between foppish Orlesian noble and hyperactive child, with a strong dash of Les Harlequins mixed in. He'd just returned with dinner, dragging in a dead ram by the horns, along with some local plants which he'd then presented to Blackwall, politely inquiring which were edible, which not and which went with the ram. Not many, and Blackwall had to break it to Cicero that the pretty pink flowers he'd painstakingly gathered were in fact Blood Lotus and poisonous. Cicero had looked a bit crestfallen, but on hearing the pointy ones were Elfroot and fine to eat, he'd brightened up, helped Borkul set the fire, then produced an array of cooking gear, including something called olive oil and a whole rack of herbs and spices, and before long there was a roast mutton and elfroot meal in progress. Apart from the bit that Cicero vaguely waved near the fire for a few seconds before plating up for Eola, not a green thing in sight.
Blackwall really couldn't watch Eola tear into raw meat with her teeth, and Borkul's growling for Cicero to stop fannying about with bay leaves and just feed him already was also a bit concerning. But the final product smelt divine, and Blackwall gave in and had some.
It turned out the little maniac could cook, and Blackwall forgave him everything. And so they'd talked and exchanged news, and it turned out Skyrim was a lot like Ferelden in a lot of ways, and it turned out Elisif was some sort of hero back there, avenging the High King's murder, fighting dragons, saving the world from a dragon-god… It all sounded a bit unlikely, but what didn't sound unlikely was Cicero excitedly squealing that she'd saved him from a savage werewolf and comforted him after the loss of his mother, and that she'd been responsible for him meeting his wife, and if Blackwall had doubted their story, the soppy looks Cicero gave Eola confirmed that their marriage was real at least.
In return, he'd told them a little of the place they'd ended up in, a harder task than he'd thought what with all the questions and Cicero frowning and wanting to know what a darkspawn was exactly.
"You'll know one when you see it," Blackwall warned him. "They're tainted, evil things, destroying everything they touch. World's better off without them. We Wardens, we're the thin blue line between them and the rest of the world."
"So why aren't you out on the frontlines fighting them then," Eola said, a little scepticism in her voice and Blackwall made a mental note to keep an eye on her. She was clearly the bright one.
"I'm a recruiter," Blackwall growled, keeping to his cover story and just thanking Andraste they had their own mission and wouldn't ask to join. "I travel alone, finding recruits. Right now I'm settled here because of reports of activity in the old Deep Roads entrance behind the waterfall. Of course it turned out to be a gang of Carta smugglers, but I'm keeping an eye on things. Just in case they dig up something they shouldn't."
"You ain't taking the smugglers out?" Borkul observed, sounding a little surprised Blackwall hadn't dealt with the problem. As if one warrior was expected to take out a Carta clan on his own.
"I'm willing to give my life in a fight but not in vain," Blackwall said firmly. "And I deal with darkspawn, not common criminals. You want to take them out though, I've got no objections. Might even join you."
Cicero looked very excited at the prospect, and Blackwall had a feeling these particular Carta might not be a problem for much longer. Something he could definitely live with.
And so his visitors turned in, and Blackwall retreated inside to rest and think. Doubtless the existence of a mysterious land no one had ever heard of should worry him, and it did a bit. They'd never heard of the Maker, or Andraste, their land had lots of gods and their particular ones seemed to be Hircine the god of hunting, Mara, a goddess of love and family, some sort of ancestor god of Liriel's called Auriel, Namira who was some sort of goddess of claiming the dead, and Malacath, god of the underdog, although it turned out Borkul was a bit of an apostate in his worship of said god.
"Backing the winning side's better," was all he'd say on that.
All in all, Blackwall had to wonder if the existence of this land boded well or ill, especially seeing as they now knew how to get to Ferelden. This wasn't an army, far from it, just a little scouting party. But it could spell trouble for all Thedas.
However, it wasn't Blackwall's problem. These were just people, just a little family trying to find their missing mother. He wasn't one to turn them away.
A/N: Blackwall may regret accompanying this lot, but he's a good man, always willing to help a struggling refugee family, and he's in the Hinterlands, so in he comes.
