Chapter IX

The Wilds do indeed carry a wicked tradition in Ferelden lore – capable of sheltering refugees just as they are of destroying intruders. Anlessa knew some of the lore from stories that her Nan would tell her as a child, and brutal histories that she'd learned from Fergus (half of which she'd hoped was not true). She knew of the Chasind, a barbarian tribe that lived in the swamp, scavenging the land for flesh and fruit alike. She knew from these tales that there were rumors that the Chasind would eat the flesh of their dead, as well as the flesh of their vanquished. Ferelden lore also suggested that it was the Wilds that opened her bosom to the Rebel Queen's son, Maric and sheltered him from the Orlesians who were sent to take his head. Strange and feral, beautiful and twisted, the Wilds stretched before the party in a welcome that suggested to Anlessa that it was daring them to step forward and into its dark embrace.

Anlessa stepped forth, guiding her companions into the swamp and noting that the light suggested they had mere hours to complete their quest. The noise of the encampment – barking Mabari, the hammer of the blacksmith, the clash of sparring swords and the din of a tremendous military presence – faded away to nothing as they proceeded down a path that had obviously been trod by scouts and caravans many times in the past. The party descended into the thick of the swamp, their boots sloshing as the muck sucked at their soles. At the bottom of the hill, they encountered more Tevinter ruins – columns suggesting a kind of aqueduct traveling through the Wilds, long since destroyed. Beneath them, a ruined caravan with goods scattered and destroyed, and the broken bodies of a military escort lying in pools of their own blood.

"Over here… please. Help me."

A lone bloody armored figure crawled haltingly past the corpses of its comrades toward the sound of their footsteps, and Anlessa ran forward to lend aid. Kneeling down, she saw immediately that the soldier was very young, and very badly wounded. Dark circles were visible under his eyes and his breathing was ragged.

"Grey Wardens…? The darkspawn… came up from the ground… overwhelmed…"

"Shhh…" Anlessa touched his forehead with her naked wrist and looked back up to her group. "He's feverish. We need to take him back to camp."

"No. Please, if… if you could just bandage me up, it's not far. I can make it on my own."

Alistair nodded and knelt next to the recruit. "I have some bandages on me. Give me a hand."

Within minutes, the guard was stripped of his breastplate and long strips of fabric wrapped tightly to staunch any further blood flow. The youth was lucky, despite his weakened state – none of the wounds appeared to be fatal, given proper treatment and healing magic. With some water and a bit of bread, his strength seemed to return. Ser Jory reached down to help the man to his feet.

"I thank you, all of you. Now, I have to get out of here, before they return."

Jory watched the man limp away, cradling his wounded abdomen in his arms. "Did you hear that?" he murmured. "A group of finely trained men overcome by those fiends." His face flushed red with worry. "What kind of chance do we four stand out here, when seasoned soldiers were slaughtered like cattle? These Wilds are filled with darkspawn. This is a death sentence."

Alistair rose, brushing his hands off and looking at Jory pointedly. "We are in no serious danger here. Yes, there are darkspawn in the Wilds, but we are nowhere near the bulk of the horde. As long as we are careful, we will be completely safe."

"How do you know this, Warden? I am no coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should turn back."

Anlessa pressed her hand flat against the soft Earth, trying to picture the scene not long before they arrived – a group of well-trained scouts in a serene and silently dangerous swamp taken by surprise and slaughtered within minutes by a tunneling band of fiends. Jory's fear echoed in her heart, but she remembered Duncan leading her through the Wilds and his ability to steer them away from the roaming darkspawn. She stood and looked to Alistair with understanding.

"This is just another part of the test to overcome. Overcoming the danger, and overcoming our fear."

Jory looked at her skeptically and Alistair nodded with approval. "That's true… I suppose," Jory observed.

"Know this, Jory," Alistair said, "All Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn and their movements. Whatever their cunning, I can guarantee you that they won't take us by surprise." With a smile, he added, "That's why I'm here."

Daveth snorted. "You see, sir Knight – they may kill us, but at least we'll receive some warning first."

It wasn't long before that warning arrived. Delving deeper into the wilds, searching for more ruins that may hint at the Grey Wardens' prior archive, Alistair stopped suddenly, staring blankly ahead of them as if listening for something the others could not hear. He held his hand up in silence, motioning for the rest of the party to be still as his senses reached out around them to identify the location of the approaching creatures. His eyes narrowed into a scowl as he turned back towards his party, nodding and closing his hand into a tight fist. Quietly, each of them unsheathed their weapons and collapsed into a tight circle, their backs facing inward as they awaited the creatures' arrival.

Anlessa's Mabari growled low and deeply, punctuated with a fierce snarl that betrayed his fear. His hackles were raised and he looked around wildly, sensing the approaching danger but unable to identify its source. Anlessa cooed softly to him, providing what little reassurance she could as fear crawled up from the base of her spine. Everyone could feel the danger approaching, but none could see it.

Alistair whispered to his charges, "Be prepared for anything. Attack as you would any other foe. They will fall before a blade as long as your fear does not overcome you."

She trembled as she waited, her palms sweaty as they grasped the hilts of the swords that freed her from her family's fate in Highever. She could feel Daveth's side pressed near to her right, trembling slightly in terrified anticipation, and could hear Jory's rapid breathing to her left. Only Alistair, who knew what was coming, stood firm and ready for the attack.

The soft, mossy ground of the marsh erupted around the small party and Anlessa had visions of corpses rising from the earth. As the creatures emerged, the fertile soil clung to their twisted flesh and primitive armor, clods of dirt dropping from them like a leper's rotting meat. The eyes of the creatures were red and black, and fixed upon the party members with abject hunger as they approached. The tallest of the creatures, about the size of a full-grown man, opened its mouth wide, its skeletal features in a wide, predatory grin as it loosed an unearthly roar and led the charge into the party.

Anlessa and Jory both screamed in fear at the onslaught, and grasped their weapons like lifelines. The party was surrounded by a dozen of the creatures, half of which were half their size – squat and corpulent creatures that lumbered towards them with dented swords, rusty maces and broken daggers. Alistair called out to his party, "Hold your position!"

Daveth was the first to let blood, having drawn an arrow with a trembling hand and, by the Maker's luck, burying it in the neck of one of the snorting shorter creatures. As the darkspawn fell onto its back, clutching the arrow and then dying with a violent tremor, Anlessa and Jory found their own nerve. It was true – they could be killed!

Anlessa was rushed by two of the taller of the darkspawn, and stepped forward into them with as much confidence as she could muster. A mantra repeated in her head – they can be killed just as any man, just as any man. The Cousland family sword darted out to her right, catching one of the creatures in its sword arm and rendering it lame as she parried a blow with an unwieldy mace to her left. Her mabari, seeing his mistress engage the enemy, rushed forward to one of the shorter creatures and overwhelmed it with a great leap, taking the wailing monstrosity by the neck and mauling with vigor.

"Maker...!" Jory exclaimed as his two-handed greatsword flew through the battle like a flashing beacon, cutting swaths through the tainted enemy. His face flushed with fear and adrenaline, he took on three of the creatures at once with wide arcs engaging them all equally. Daveth, having seen the majority of the creatures head towards the more active warriors in the party, set his bow down quietly and slipped away with daggers in hand, only to show up behind select creatures to deliver well-aimed backstabbing blows to where he could only guess the vital organs would be located.

Alistair did his best to keep an eye on each of his charges, encouraged by their willingness to engage the enemy despite the fear he knew they were experiencing. Keeping watch, however, grew particularly difficult once his attention was turned to a heavily armored darkspawn that appeared to single him out for combat. Shield and sword at the ready, Alistair regarded this creature – its armor was more finely made, and it wore a horned helm that hid its terrifying visage. He could hear it laughing from inside its helm, lending a kind of echoing eeriness to the encounter. It wielded a finely made greatsword, and swung the instrument lazily as it studied Alistair and approached.

"Let's GO!" Alistair shouted, running in with his shield leading the way. The weight of the greatsword came down upon it, and Alistair fell to one knee, buckling under the blow. He looked up into the helm of the creature above him, and saw the blood red eyes of the darkspawn looking down at him, smiling in its mocking laughter.

Anlessa saw Daveth dart around behind the pair of darkspawn she was whittling down and smiled in approval as he quickly dispatched each of them, his razor-sharp dagger flicking across their necks, causing them to fall back, their hands clutched to their throats. Daveth fell upon them, performing a coup de grace on each, and then taking out the mabari's struggling target as Anlessa moved on to a group of four archers that had been trying and failing to snipe the party at a distance, her mabari following close behind.

Jory gritted his teeth, growling in anger with each wide swing, his muscles screaming with effort. One of the smaller darkspawn darted forward, trying to catch him at the tail end of a swing, and found itself with Jory's large booted foot in its face. Kicking like a mule, Jory sent the darkspawn sailing to the side, where it lay stunned. "One down!" he cried, "Who's next?"

Alistair assessed the creature before him as they slowly circled each other, a deep and menacing cackle occasionally ringing from inside the horned helm. The creature stood just over Alistair's own height – a darkspawn he knew Duncan had once referred to as a "Hurlock" – a twisted version of a man, the tainted mind a shadow of the cleverness and skill that a normal man would possess. However, this creature before him moved and acted with intelligence that he'd not seen before. An Alpha, away from the main horde? Was that even possible?

Watching the creature, Alistair had a feel for its rhythm, its self assuredness, it movements. He saw its shoulder tense, and gripped his shield as a reflex, knowing a second ahead of time that the creature was about to raise its great broadsword high above its head to come crashing upon him. Alistair grinned.

Rolling to the side, Alistair narrowly missed the sharp edge of the creature's sword. Darting up on his knees, he thrust his sword up, catching the monster's side and driving it forward into its chest cavity. The darkspawn flung itself backwards and off of Alistair's keen blade, stumbling in pain and screaming in a high and piercing wail that caused its companions to stop and turn in what appeared to be horror. Alistair jumped up and in two long strides, made his way to the stumbling creature, and raised his blade high, driving it deep into the hurlock's breastplate.

The tide changed immediately. "Press them!" Anlessa cried, as the archers dropped their weapons and attempted to run. The hound ran one of them down, ravaging it mercilessly and Anlessa caught another in the back as it ran for safety. Daveth and Jory together had taken down another handful before they'd gone too far. Looking at the carnage around her, Anlessa was first stunned, and then began to laugh. Her companions looked at her quizzically at first, but in watching her mirth as she collapsed on the ground, Daveth began to chuckle, followed by Alistair, and then by Jory.

The relief was palpable. The swamp, cold and imposing, seemed to open itself up to them life a welcoming lover, now that they'd proven themselves worthy of her embrace. Strewn around them, ten bleeding darkspawn bodies lay in wait for the swamp and its denizens to take them back into the earth. Anlessa rose and called her hound off of his kill, and hugged him tightly, showering him with well deserved praise. The small party gathered together to look at the carnage.

"Ten out of twelve isn't bad," Daveth noted.

"Those… creatures are horrifying." Jory added, still a bit pale from the encounter.

"At least they're dead," Anlessa retorted.

Alistair stood before the three of them, the smile wide on his face. "All three of you did splendidly. This is the kind of teamwork and quick thinking that will keep you and your fellow Wardens alive on the battlefield. And now, for your reward…"

He removed three glass phylacteries from inside the leather satchel, and gently handed one over to each of his charges. "Take these vials, and fill them with the blood of the fallen creatures. When this is done, return them to me."

Each recruit then chose a corpse and proceeded to drain it into the vial to the best of their ability. Anlessa grimaced – the creatures reeked of death and decay in the first place, and the bloodletting didn't improve the smell at all.

Anlessa returned her vial first with a wrinkle of distaste in her nose. "Come," she said, "Let's find these archives and get back to camp so we can wash this filth off of us."