"Look at these lot," Elion muttered as they strode through bustling camp of the King's army. "Either they are too old, too young or too weak to lift their swords."
"Not all of them," Vala disagreed as she eyed the armed soldiers around them. "Only a good dozen."
"A dozen could mean life or death for us all," Elion scorned, fingering a dagger at his belt when some lording sneered at him and his obvious Dalish roots.
That lording was lucky Kiara had convinced him it would be bad idea to gut one of their 'allies' before the battle. Hopefully a Darkspawn would do it for him, he thought with dark amusement and a curl of his lips.
"Now Elion, there is no age too young," Kiara's voice drifted back. "I have been younger when I've killed a man and being old isn't always a bad thing."
Vala stared at the back of the tall human; some of the young lording around them were barely of age and yet this woman claimed to have killed someone before she came to age. Somehow, Vala didn't doubt it and that made her more wary of her supposed saviour.
"I PISS ON YOU!" Came a roaring battle-cry and Kiara and Logan jumped different ways as an axe buried itself into the dirt where they had once been walking.
"Malika," Kiara sighed, resigned and yet amused, and Vala blinked as she stared at the attacker.
Shorn brown locks attempted to creep past eyebrows, dressed in boiled leathers and mail was a dwarven woman with fierce steel eyes and an angry set to her features as she glared up at Kiara.
"I didn't agree to this shit!" 'Malika' snarled as she swung her axe at Kiara who leaned back from the angry swipe.
Logan, the fierce large scruffy dog, didn't even blink as the dwarf continued to attempt to hack at his human and merely blinked his large eyes at the fight before sniffing and padding off.
"He seems to have caught the others' scent," Elion noted and touched her elbow. "Let's leave them to it."
"Okay…." Vala trailed off and followed the other elf further into the camp, leaving Malika to bellow and Kiara to laugh as she dodged from each blow or blocked one with one of her drawn blades. "Will they be alright?"
"They may give each other a new scar but that's it," Elion told her, completely unconcerned with what could be a deadly fight behind them. "Malika is angry that Kiara agreed to come and fight the Blight, her house used to be very involved in fighting Darkspawn when they still lived under the stone."
"This really is a Blight then?" Vala asked, her hand drifting to the stolen sword that Kiara had made sure she kept—she remembered the look in those dark eyes as the human pressed the sword into her hands and said that she had earned the right to wield that sword.
"If you listen to the Shem lords, then no it's not," Elion said with quiet scorn. "But the Wardens say this in a Blight and we believe them."
"Most people would run from a Blight," Vala commented, resigned to her fate.
This wasn't what she had been expecting the morn of her wedding day, guess the Maker had another plan for her which wasn't being stuck in a loveless marriage with a man she would never desire because of his gender and not his character.
"We're not most people," Elion gave her a sharp smirk.
"Elion!" A female voice cried out in elation before the owner of said voice barrelled into his chest, wrapping slender strong arms around his neck.
Loose golden locks, the same colour as Elion's own locks tied back into hunting braids, tumbled down a leather covered back and smelt strongly of Elfroot, one tanned hand tangled into Elion's braided locks and bent his head slightly so they could touch foreheads.
It was striking to Vala how alike the two Dalish elves looked, though the woman had a softer cast to her face then Elion.
"I'm here," Elion's voice was remarkably soft, a reassertions that made tension seep from the woman's shoulders as she closed her golden eyes.
"Who is this?" A growling female voice made Vala turn away from the obvious siblings and it took everything in her power not to take a step back at the towering woman inspecting her with narrowed ashy eyes, one of her clawed light purple hands was resting on Logan's head.
She had heard the tales of the Companions—who hadn't?—and had known about the Qunari, Saya, but she hadn't realised just how tall the Qunari was. Vala had always been considered tall, for an elf anyway, and hadn't ever really felt small but she did in that moment as she stared up at the Qunari.
"Vala, Kiara recruited her," Elion explained, standing still as his sister inspected him for any changes since they last saw each other.
"I see," she gave Vala one inspecting glance before turning back to the little camp that the Companions had set up and sat on one log before the fire.
Logan rested his large head on her knee and the Qunari stroked his scruffy fur as Vala let out a small breathe, she had survived a test and she knew it.
Malika was passionate about everything, she was passionate in anger, in love, in sadness, and I loved that about her. Malika never tried to hide anything, she was open and free and honest and I had always been impressed with people like that.
It didn't bother me that she came at me, her axes drawn, with fear and anger warring in her eyes because she needed some sort of outlet. She was a Cadash, she had grown up on stories of Darkspawn and the horror they unleashed and they were her greatest fear, yet here she was at Ostagar with me despite that.
And by all the gods, I loved her dearly for that.
"How did you even reach her face?" Ellana demanded, her voice hard but hands gentle as she wiped away the dirt and blood from the left half of Kiara's face so she could properly see the large gash curving up Kiara's cheek.
"Knocked her on her ass," Malika answered, bloodstained teeth bared in a strained grin as Elion used his thumbs to put her nose back in place.
"You do remember we could be called to battle at any moment, right?" Ellana clicked her tongue as her hand glowed and helped seal the weeping gash, Kiara didn't even wince at the tingling and strange feeling.
"She deser—OUCH!" Malika jerked away from Elion, hands coming up to cup her nose and Elion smirked, bloodstained hands still held in the air.
"Oops," his smirk threatened to be turned into a grin. "Did that hurt?"
"Of course it did you piss-haired elf," Malika hissed, tears of pain coming to her eyes as she gingerly poked at her nose. "You did that on purpose."
Elion shrugged easily and leaned back when Malika gave an angry swipe.
"You'll get used to this,"
Vala almost jumped as Saya suddenly spoke to her while the Qunari handed Kiara a water skin.
"Thanks, Saya," Kiara quirked a quick smile about to take a drink but Ellana swiped it and pushed some crushed elfroot into the skin and shook it before handing it back to the human. "Thanks Ella."
Without further ado, she threw her head back and took a long pull of the skin.
Vala grimaced, she had never liked the bitter taste of elfroot.
"Does this happen often?" Vala asked and Ellana scowled.
"Yes," she moved across the small camp to check Malika's wounds and to encourage the healing with her magic like she had done with Kiara. "Both of them are terrible when left alone."
"Half the shit I've got into was because of her," Kiara jerked a thumb at the wriggling dwarf in Ellana's grip who snorted making more blood seep from her nose.
"Half the shit we've got into is because of her," she returned as Ellana frowned and wiped away the fresh blood from Malika's nose.
"Stop that," Ellana admonished making Malika scowl and Vala laughed.
She just catch sight of the pleased smile that curled Kiara's lips before Logan leaned into her face and licked the healing gash with a gentleness that seemed at odds with his big size.
This could be her home, Vala thought to herself and almost found herself looking forward to the future—whatever future they had during and after this Blight.
Faren felt like a little kid again, when he would sneak ale from his comatose mother and sell it to other casteless that didn't have a hovel to call home just so he could have enough to treat Rica to a sweet cake that the commoners and nobles hoarded to themselves, whenever he sat under the sky,
By his ancestors, he had never thought it was so big. He found himself often staring up at the vastness of sky, it seemed to have no end or beginning, not like the ceilings of Orzammar, and it changed so much; clouds drifted, light changed and actual water fell sometimes without warning and made his red hair stick to his face.
The Princess didn't seem to embrace the sudden freedom they were given as he did, so stuck was she with her noble proud.
The blade she found in the Deeproads was so stained with the black of Darkspawn blood that it would never be clean and would poison anyone who got the slightest scratch with the Blight, Duncan had her get some other blades from the smithy when they had arrived in Ostagar before he had taken off, looking for more recruits.
Perhaps the Wardens were getting their weapons free or perhaps they were paying for them, Faren didn't know and the Princess didn't ask, she banter work for blades and had traded her bloodstained crown for a blacksmith's hammer.
It had been amusing the first few days, watching as she laboured like so many of his kin had to do for a single copper when she had been born with a golden spoon in her mouth. Her golden hair, once beautifully braided with ribbons and beads, had been thrown up in a simple horsetail—no more braids speaking of honour, strength and battle or silver beads etched with tiny scenes of battle—and stuck to her sweaty skin—Faren would be willing to bet one of his new daggers that that was the most she had sweated outside of sparring.
Faren had quickly grown bored of it and got more blades and such his own way, he gambled and cheated them out of the hands of the soldiers and Wardens around them.
The only one he hadn't been able to cheat was that blasted dwarven woman with the Companions, her sharp steel eyes had caught all his tricks and she was a keen skilled gambler, she also held her ale better than anyone Faren had seen before.
He couldn't help but to respect her a little, enough that he didn't attempt to steal from her when they retired back to her tent for some 'tie-breakers'. He wouldn't even have attempted anyway, he had seen that Qunari behead a Darkspawn and freeze another in one move, he wasn't going to risk angering the giant by stealing from her companion.
The tall and towering trees of the Wilds blocked out most of the sky, fog curled around the giant roots of the sentential trees and there was a dampness to the air that sat almost heavily on your chest, but it still the topside world and still spoke of freedom to him.
It was his watch for the night, though the little lady sat propped up against one of trees they had camped under with the light of the fire reflecting in her eyes.
She and the new elf had been waiting with Duncan when Alistair had round up all the recruits—he was a nice guy for a human, but absolutely pants at gambling—and the blood stains on her steel armour and the almost hollow look in her blue eyes told him all he needed to know about her.
The knight may have bowed and called her 'Lady', but Faren would never demean her by calling her that title. She was a woman that had lived through her worse nightmare and hadn't faltered, she had his respect for that and he was more willing to listen to her then the Princess as they travelled through the Wilds even if Alistair was meant to be leading—skilled fighter he may be, the man wasn't a leader in any way and that seemed to be his choice.
The new elf, Melima, hadn't strayed far from the human, Andra, though she scowled and muttered about Shem whenever the other humans drew close to her. He guessed they had bonded as they travelled, especially if Melima was half as sick then as she was now. She laid curled up next to Andra, the human's hand resting protectively on her black veined arm.
Whatever went into the Joining ritual, it better cure the Blight or Melima would soon be a mindless ghoul or dead. And Faren didn't want to see how Andra would take her death, the human smelt enough of death already.