The group of heroes were all on the road again, heading towards the Brecilian Forest; Isabela had Merrill with her on her horse, and Anders (unhappily) with Zevran. The Antivan however, enjoyed his travel partner. Wren previously heard Zevran ask if Justice has 'desires' and if he had ever helped with fulfilling them. Neither Anders nor Justice answered politely. Hawke and Wren chatted together as they rode; they told each other stories of their adventures and friends. The Champion was amazed to hear of the golem, Shale, and mentioned that they had met Flemeth before. It quickly became clear that the old Witch of the Wilds was a touchy subject for Wren, however.
"How is he really?" The Hero asked Hawke, nodding to Anders who looked like he was going to kill his driver.
"It's getting harder for him to keep control," she answered, "At one point, he can be laughing and smiling, but then he'll snap and completely lose it."
"He'll be okay if he's got you," Wren smiled. Out of nowhere, Merrill let out a scream. Smoke billowed into the sky further down the road they were walking. Wren understood Merrill's reaction; she could see a pack of blighted wolves were tearing up two Hallas.
"The Dalish!" Alistair gasped. Together they all bolted towards the fire. Merrill slipped off the rump of her horse when they got close enough, and started to cast stone fists towards the wolves. The horses reared up in fear of the blazing fire, knocking everyone off. Getting to their feet, Wren and Isabela joined Merrill in tearing the blighted pack apart. It was an easy kill with the two mabari hounds with them. When the fighting had stopped, Hawke and Anders casted ice spell towards the fires. Alistair and Zevran searched for survivors. Corpses of Darkspawn and their wolves that lost to the nomad elves were everywhere. Merrill let out a small cry seeing burnt bodies of elves, some of them small as children…
"Wren!" Alistair called out. She and Merrill came running. There was a small group of burnt elves huddled together – a mother and her children.
"Creator…" Merrill whispered. Alistair nudged Wren to another body. The body wasn't charcoal like the others; it was as if there was something originally shielding the body from the flames.
"I found this," Alistair said quietly. He handed Wren an amulet. It looked like ironwood; it had a symbol of a Halla head carved into the charm hanging off the chain.
"Lenya…" Wren breathed. The body belonged to the Keeper of the Dalish group they saved from werewolves. She was a friend to Wren and her former companions. Blaise trotted to the three elves and Alistair. He sniffed the blackened fingertips of the body and whined. He licked the back of his Mistress' hand gently.
"Hey, guys?" Isabela called to all members of the group. "You might want to see what I found."
The pirate was crouched in front of a small box. It was obviously enchanted, because it didn't even have a scratch. Inside was a hastily scribbled letter:
Keeper Lenya,
I must warn you about the impending dangers that you may face. Someone is targeting everyone who has ever had or has an alliance with the Hero of Ferelden. Disciples of a new Dark King slaughtered a man, the name of Levi Dryden, and his family; Wren Tabris helped him reclaim a Greywarden fort many years ago.
I suspect more murders in the near future, so be on the look out for any Antivan assassins (they like to call themselves the Crows), and any former follower of a dead dwarven prince Bhelen. He also has closer allies; blood mages that have joined his cult, and now he has his own small army of Darkspawn. This enemy is not to be underestimated.
If you have any faith in the Hero, or King Alistair, flee to them. Immediately. For I fear this may be the start of another war.
Keep you eyes and ears open, and may your feet be swift.
"Who do you think sent this?" Anders asked. Alistair rested his calloused hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Hopefully a friend." He answered. Alistair turned to Wren, "What if they were heading to Denerim for us?"
She didn't answer. Wren lifted her head to the sky. She could see a small cloud of smoke close by, almost like it was coming from a camp. The smoke was coming from the same direction to where Lothering was. That's odd, she thought to herself. No one had lived in the deserted town after the Blight, so to have someone camping there...
"Be ready," Wren warned, "I don't think this road is safe anymore."
"My lord," the assassin purred. Her voice was silky and soft. "The Darkspawn and their pack have dealt with the Dalish."
She stood in front of a smoky, life sized image of Adrian. He cocked his head and said, "You have forgotten one tiny detail: Wren Tabris and Alistair Theirin, with their group of companions."
"M-my Lord?" She stammered. The smoky image of his body picked at its nails. The only part you could make out was the glaring of his golden eyes.
"They have left the comfort of Denerim to find their daughter, who I have. However, on there way they have stumbled on the remains of their Dalish friends and have killed my Darkspawn and their pet mutts." He answered. His voice became dangerously quiet. "Now, they are coming for you."
Someone snorted behind the female assassin. A dwarf with a rugged, hazel beard came out of the shadows. His beady, black eyes travelled up and down the Antivan then moved to the smoky body.
"They're outnumbered here. We can take 'em."
"Confident are we?" Adrian said, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "You won't be after that elf is done with you."
The dwarf rolled his eyes, letting out a cocky laugh of disbelief.
"Heed my warning, dwarf. You would do well not to underestimate Wren Tabris if you value your life. She's killed the toughest of foes and proven herself a lethal opponent to cross. And she's the one that has survived each time." Adrian hissed, "And as you have forgotten to clean up the scene of her friend's death, she will hunt you until her final breath…or yours."
The dwarf shuffled his feet uncomfortably. Adrian turned to the Crow.
"We mustn't forget about the Hawkes, either. Be ready for them too."
She nodded and he vanished.
Isabela and Zevran appeared from the shadows next to Wren and Hawke. They were stealthy enough to scout the area of Lothering.
"The Crows are here," Zevran reported, "Obviously. But dwarves, too."
"Not to mention a large group of bloody Darkspawn!" Isabela hissed. A snarl rumbled in the mabaris' throats.
"I have a plan, if you want to hear it…" Hawke murmured.
"Go ahead." Wren nodded. Hawke, Merrill and Anders would attack from afar and if needed, either Anders or Alena would heal or magically protect them. Wren, Zevran and Isabela would help wherever and whoever they could. Carver and Alistair would go in after the hounds. With their plan if attack ready, they prepared themselves.
"Release the hounds!" Isabela screamed. Hawke and Wren let go of the collars; Blaise and Lupa launched themselves down the ramp of the collapsed stone bridge, towards the broken village. The slobbery snarls and menacing growls filled the silent air. Two dumbfounded Darkspawn were attacked on the spot and soon it became a sea of tainted blood. Alistair and Carver roared into the clearing. The King was swift and smooth considering he hadn't been in a fight for years. Carver smashed the head of a very large Darkspawn with the flat of his blade and with one swift movement, took it straight off its shoulders. The rogues and mages joined in quickly when the Crows and dwarves came into the fight. Isabela popped in and out of nowhere at the right times to help. Zevran took on some of his old colleagues, while Merrill backed him up. Alena protected her brother from anyone who came up behind him. Wren and Alistair fought together, side-by-side. The largest of enemies targeted them.
"Just like old times, isn't it?" Alistair yelled over the clashing and clanging of metal hitting metal.
"Is that a good thing?" Wren yelled back, dodging a blow. She heard him laugh. A dwarf with beady eyes and a hazel beard tackled her to the ground. She elbowed him in the face, making him roll off. Flipping back onto her feet, Wren faced him. Blood dribbled from his nose. She smirked. He charged at her. His daggers were curved and ended in a sharp point. His claws and her Fangs clashed together, Wren easily blocking his moves. She brought her foot up to his groin; he let out a bellow of pain. Quickly, Wren's Fang stuck the dwarf through the throat. Wren turned around, grinning at her work, when someone head-butted her in the face. White-hot pain rippled through her nose. The elf was now on her back, and no one noticed, as they were busy with their own fights.
"The pig deserved what he got," she heard a female say; she the purr of an Antivan. "But that doesn't give you a free pass on death I'm afraid, Hero."
Wren looked up at the woman; she had dark brown hair – almost black. It was pulled back in a braid. The Crows' tattoo curved around her high cheekbones, down to her full lips.
"That's too bad," Wren grunted, spitting blood on the ground, "I have a hair cut next week."
With a swipe of her leg, Wren tripped the Crow and sent her falling onto her backside. Wren rolled into a spring like a cat and pounced. However the Crow was ready; she caught Hero's wrist and kicked her stomach. Wren's body flipped behind the woman's, landing on her back again. Before she could get up though, the assassin was running. Wren jumped to her feet and weaved her way through and over bodies to get to her target. Her prey was now in sight and a perfect target. Sheathing the blades, she quickly unhooked her bow from over her shoulder. There was a soft twang when she let go of an ice arrow. It cut through the air quickly, hitting the Crow's shoulder. She let out a scream and stumbled to a stop, dropping to her knees. Her hand clawed at the arrow.
"You wanna' reconsider that pass?" Wren's voice hissed behind her. She had Fang and Starfang ready in her grasp. The assassin spat on the ground in defeat.
"We got a live one!" Wren called out to her group. They were cleaning away the blood and black gunk on their weapons. Antivan assassins, Darkspawn and dwarves were piled and lit like a giant bonfire. Wren had her prisoner's braid wrapped around her hand and the tip of her blade pressed against her spine. A gaping hole in the woman's shoulder oozed with red. Wren led the Crow into one of the small houses that were still standing. Zevran bound the woman with rope while Isabela tied it.
"She won't get out of that," the pirate assured, nodding to her knot work. They both left and joined the others outside.
"Are you going to torture me?" The woman asked.
"Not if you play well." Wren answered. Alistair stood with his back to the door, glaring at the tied up woman. He watched Wren walk over to her.
"Why was there Darkspawn here?" she asked.
"They liked the view of the mountains that only Lothering has." The woman answered, her eyes widening with fake innocence. Wren punched her in the jaw. The woman pulled her head back. She raised an eyebrow at her.
"I asked you a question, so don't be a shit and answer it!" Wren snarled. She stood up straight, her hand resting on Fang. The woman rolled her eyes and sighed.
"They were sent here."
"Sent by who?" Alistair asked. She looked at him and gave him a breathtaking smile.
"I do not seem to remember," she answered with a purr, "I may need someone to help me…"
She was punched again, but in her stomach. She groaned.
"Darkspawn don't follow anyone's orders but Archdemons." Wren pointed out, straightening her back.
"These do," the Crow gasped. She looked the Hero dead in the eye, grinned, and added, "Just like little, elven slaves."
"Poor choice of words." Wren spat. After kneeing her in the stomach, she pulled the woman up by her braid and used a hunting knife she kept strapped to her thigh to pin it up on a wooden beam. The woman grasped at her hair with her bound hands. Wren took a Dalish amulet from around her neck and shoved it in the Crow's face.
"Do you see this? This was from a keeper of the Dalish tribe that your Darkspawn friends murdered!" she snarled, sending spittle flying from her mouth, "And this –" she held up the letter from the mysterious sender "– is proof of it and every other friend or ally of ours you've killed in cold blood! So tell me who you're working for!"
Alistair stepped forward, readying himself to grab Wren and pull her away. The Antivan Crow stared, eyes wide open at the fury that burned behind the green eyes of the Hero. He was right…I'm going to die, she thought.
"I – I don't know –"
"DON'T TELL ME YOU DON'T KNOW!"
"I'm telling you the truth, please!"
Wren wrapped her hand around the neck of the pleading woman; the elf bared her teeth in anger.
"These people – your group of assassins – stole my daughter away from me and killed my kin," she snarled, "So do not think I won't skin you alive to get the answers I need to find my little girl!"
Wren snatched the skinning knife from the woman's hair, but before she could do anything Alistair's hand grabbed her wrist and his other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her away.
"LET GO OF ME, ALISTAIR!" she screamed. She struggled to wriggle out of his grasp.
"Stop it, Wren," he said, "Please…calm down."
Wren dropped the blade and slumped against Alistair's body in defeat. She closed her eyes to hide the tears.
"Do you see her? Do you see what this has done to her?" Alistair said softly to the gasping Crow. "All she wants is Hope. We both want our daughter back. That's all."
The woman looked from Wren to him in disbelief. They share a child?
"I do not know his name," she eventually said, "I'm not important enough too. He is a powerful mage; many fear him as they are in awe of him. Besides Darkspawn, he has a group of blood mages protecting him, serving him like they're in some sort of cult."
She swallowed at the sudden silence.
"About the girl, though… I have heard rumours - rumours of a young mage being held up in an old underground palace, or something."
"Where's this palace?" Alistair asked, speaking for the first time.
"Somewhere near the town, Haven." She answered.
Wren and Alistair looked at each other. Great, Alistair thought, back to loony-ville.
"Then we go there," Wren murmured, standing up straight and sniffed. "And we kill the bastard who took our baby."
"Be wary, Hero. Nobody knows what he looks like – he could be anyone, or anything." The woman murmured.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Wren said. She smirked.
"He's a skillful shape shifter; I've heard he can even turn into another human." She answered, "Not even the Witch of the Wilds can do that."
The Hero swallowed down a lump in her throat. A gnawing feeling clawed her insides.
"What do we look out for?"
"Besides the obsession with the girl and his plan that involves her," the Crow said, "His eyes."
"His eyes?" Alistair repeated. She turned her gaze on him.
"Yes. His golden eyes will be a dead giveaway."
Hawke wandered away from the burning piles of the dead. She looked at the rubble of houses, the Chantry and the old tavern. She walked further away from the village, passing over the bridge. She stopped at the rusted old cage that once held the Qunari that murdered her best friend's family. Hawke's eyes found something that broke her heart; the old windmill had collapsed into itself. An arm wrapped around her shoulders.
"Look what's happened to our home," Alena whispered. "There's nothing left."
"There's still us." Carver said softly. His arm slipped from her shoulders and he grabbed her hand. The two Hawkes walked towards the windmill, slowly taking in the dying land around them. Around the back of the hill that their old home once sat, was a stone. Despite the blight that plagued the area, vines grew wild over the limestone. Carver and Alena ripped it away to reveal the name Malcolm Hawke.
"We're home, father." Alena said softly. Tears rolled down her cheek. Carver wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the side of her head. She looked up at him to see that he too was crying.
"Shut up." he grumbled, but breaking out into a smile. Before Hawke could grin back, snarls of both mabari and something not human broke out. A small group of Darkspawn were returning to camp. Blaise and Lupa charged towards the monsters that were edging closer towards the two Hawkes. Luckily, they were not alone; the commotion led the others to help rid of the walking blight. Merrill ran towards Carver, her elf agility enabling her to weave and dodge her way through quickly. Isabela cut down anyone in her path and Zevran attacked from behind. Anders bolted towards Hawke. Three were about to gang up on her and there was no way she could get out of it.
Allow me , Justice growled inside of him. Before he could argue, Anders was taken over by the spirit and his fury. The Darkspawn were quickly slain. Wren and Alistair ran out the house. He joined the fight, but Wren was held back.
"What about me?" the Antivan Crow cried out. Walking back into the small house, she swiftly cut the rope that bound her hands and feet. The woman rubbed her wrists and stared up at the elf in shock. She couldn't believe that she actually freed her.
"Run." Wren said, "Run and never return to the Crows, because I swear to Andraste - I will tear you apart if I find you on the side of that bastard who took Hope."
And just like that, the woman got to her feet and ran for her freedom. Wren quickly followed, but found that the fight was practically over. She watched the last monster be cut down. At least, she thought it was the last. Her ears picked up the twang of a bow to her right. The group turned and sprinted in the direction of the thump of a body and a blood-curdling scream.