Those Orlesian Grey Wardens weren't about to give up Dumat's Spine that easily! They followed our heroes to the Dalish camp in the Tirashan Forest of Orlais, poking their noses in where they really weren't wanted. Now what?
It wasn't their forest, the Brecilian. The Brecilian was melancholy on the outskirts and haunted by rage in its interior. The Dalish in Ferelden had stayed mostly in those outskirts, passing under boughs that drooped with the grief of centuries.
The Tirashan - or at least this part of it - was younger, sharper, and meaner. The fumes and ash from the volcano seemed to make the trees strong but bitter, and periodic eruptions eradicated swaths of greenery. Farther to the north, away from the mountains, the forest would be older - even ancient, whispered to have been a part of Arlathan's great empire.
But it was still a forest, and one with Dalish trail signs scattered here and there. They might not know its every hill and stream, but they knew how to move, how to read the land, and where all the pit traps were dug.
Ariane had been, to her surprise, a little hesitant to hunt the shemlen. Despite everything, the Orlesian Warden Commander had consistently asked for their surrender rather than just attempt to slay them out of hand. It was a small civility she had not expected, and her first impulse was to return it.
Vashti had argued her down. Warden Commander Thierry might be satisfied with taking Dumat's Spine and going home, but she had no intention of letting him have it. So there would be a fight, and not a regulated duel, either. And if that was what it was going to come to, why lose the initiative?
The Wardens moved cautiously, perhaps suspecting an ambush. They had surely heard from the local humans that there were Dalish in the forest, and it wouldn't be unreasonable to suspect their Dalish quarry to enlist aid. Three warriors moved in formation with shields, guarding two archers and a robed mage. Still some distance from where they knew Vashti to be, they stepped off the game trail into the brush, and the mage began to wave her arms and staff in the patterns of a spell.
Ariane was not near Vashti - she was, in fact, only a score of yards from where the Wardens had stopped. Standing suddenly with both swords drawn, she called down the full fury of Elgar'nan on the mage. Unearthly light flared as the Veil to the Beyond parted, drawing out the mage's power and leaving her reeling.
A flurry of arrows followed - but few hit their marks. Even at this range, Vashti was a better shot - Ariane suspected some sort of spell or ward. But to undo it would mean ignoring the angry humans with the swords, and she couldn't rightly do that. But she did begin to retreat toward the archer, drawing the warriors after her.
They were well away from the ranged support when the dog dashed out from his hiding spot, ran the dizzied mage down and, with a savage toss of his head, tore out her throat. The archers wheeled, startled, arrows going wide. The mabari growled and leapt again, jaws closing on a bow as the desperate man thrust it between him and the dog. Wood splintered but did not break, and the dog let go to circle, making aiming more difficult for the remaining archer. He snapped again, connecting with thigh, and the man screamed. The other archer ran, not liking his odds of surviving a melee.
One of the warriors charging after Ariane cried out, victim of the hunting pit the Dalish had dug along this trail. The fall wouldn't kill him, unless he were terribly unlucky, but it would keep him out of the battle for a few critical moments.
Ahead of her, Vashti was shouldering her bow in disgust and drawing her blades. Ariane took that as her sign to turn and fight.
Two men, behind the wall of their shields. The remaining archer was skittering closer, shouting in dismay as the dog limped away from the corpse of his cohort and started to lumber down the trail after him, bloody muzzle twisted in a snarl.
Equal numbers were not even odds. The Orlesian Wardens were well-trained, but they were only trained. The battle-hardened elves and the mabari made short work of them; a flurry of blows, a splash of blood, and it was over.
They hurried to the hunting pit as a hand and arm clawed up and over the edge. Another joined it, and Warden Commander Thierry pulled himself up onto the grass.
Vashti took one step forward and placed the edge of Dumat's Spine at the side of his throat before he could even bring his legs out of the hole. He froze, staring straight ahead at her feet.
Ariane looked from her friend to the prone human in confusion. Vashti had been the one to argue for attacking first instead of talking. Why wasn't his head off?
Thierry seemed to be of a similar mind. "So do it," he rasped hoarsely, still not moving.
The blade twitched just slightly. The human flinched, barely, and Ariane thought she saw fresh blood drip from the blade. She turned to look at Vashti; the Warden was intent on her captive, eyes burning darkly in a mask-like face. "What are you doing?" Ariane demanded.
A small motion on the ground drew her eye; Thierry had lifted his head enough to look up at them. He returned Vashti's glare for the space of two heartbeats before declaring, with total disdain: "Savage."
Vashti's eyes widened in a sudden fury; the ancient blade swept up and back and -
- stopped.
Everything stopped. Ariane tried to turn and couldn't. She tried to move her hands, to perform the gestures that would dispel the magic, but couldn't. The dog sat utterly still, tongue hanging out. Thierry's sneer didn't waver in the slightest, waiting for a blow that wasn't coming.
There was a jubilant noise, behind her: humans speaking the Orlesian tongue. Quick footsteps came down the game trail, and a dozen humans in ragged and patched armor were suddenly all around them. She saw a club raise behind Vashti just before she lost consciousness herself.
Uh-oh! Paralyzed and knocked unconscious? Bad news for our heroes. Return next time to discover what perilous situation they awaken to find themselves in!
