Varric watched with a critical eye as the Seeker unwound her arms.
"So that is the great secret of the Grey Wardens. I almost wish I did not know."
"Trust me, Seeker, I feel the same." The dwarf held great respect for the order, mostly because of Solona. He had never met someone less willing to brag about their accomplishments. Killing an archdemon was no easy feat. Varric had certainly been grateful for the Hero of Ferelden's presence whenever they were forced to confront a dragon.
Anders aside, the Grey Wardens silently fought a battle those with common sense ran from, at great personal sacrifice. So, yes, Varric respected the hell out of the Grey Wardens. But he wished he wasn't aware of the proverbial ax over Champion's head.
"Such courage," Cassandra murmured. "It's so—romantic."
He didn't have the heart to correct her. She would learn soon enough that there was nothing romantic about being a Warden. It was sacrifice and heartbreak and misery and battle scars and secrets that extended beyond the grave.
The Maker smiles sadly on his Grey Wardens, so the Chantry says, as no sacrifice is greater than theirs.
The guard at the gate let the small party through with little fuss. His warning, however, made the hair on Solona's arms stand on edge. What did Grey Wardens have to fear in a forest of darkspawn? Were the creatures so numerous? And if the answer to that was yes, why had King Cailan and Duncan acted as though the size of the horde was nothing unusual?
They encountered a pack of wolves just meters from the gate. Being the only person not covered head to toe in protective armor, Solona held a position a distance away, twirling her staff to call forth chains of lightning that arced between nearby wolves. She alternated lightning with blasts of pure spirit energy. Alistair flinched whenever she flung one too close to him.
"Be careful of friendly fire, okay?" he asked as they dealt with the aftermath. By which the warriors wiped down their blades while she stood awkwardly watching. Solona's inhaled to protest, only for the ex-templar to call for them to move out. The initial irritation ebbed as she realized it wasn't a criticism of her fighting capabilities, just a reminder to make sure she didn't hit any of their group. To be honest, Solona was surprised she managed to not catch Jory or Daveth in the crossfire, as neither man appeared to be well versed in fighting in groups and she had absolutely no experience to speak of hitting targets with magic.
"Oi, Alistair, over here! There's someone up ahead!" Daveth shouted from his leading position.
Solona's breath unexpectedly caught in her throat. A man lay on the path. Clearly suffering an injury, seeing as he was dragging himself along the ground.
"Who . . . is that?" Jory sounded terrified.
"Grey Wardens?"
"Oh, he's not half as dead as he looks, is he?" Oh, Maker. Alistair had a morbid sense of humor. One that she quite enjoyed.
"My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn," the dying man explained his presence in the wilds. His voice warbled from fear. "They came out of the ground." At his words, Jory peered anxiously at the earth beneath his feet, half anticipating that the darkspawn would be summoned by mere mention of them. "Please help me! I've got to return to camp."
Alistair knelt, rummaging through his pack for bandages. "Let us bandage you up first."
The scout's body lost the tension it had been holding. "Thank you. I've got to get out of here."
The party of Grey Wardens watched silently as the scout shuffled up the path they just traveled. Only once he was safely through the gate did they return to the task at hand.
"Did you hear? An entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn?"
Solona was growing weary of Jory's trepidation. The scouting party could have been composed of the king's personal guard and still met the same fate. From what Alistair and Duncan had revealed, only Grey Wardens could effectively combat the darkspawn due to imbibing the taint. Regular men were no more than warriors, and no warrior was invincible.
"Calm down, Ser Jory," said Alistair. "We'll be fine if we're careful."
"Those soldiers were careful and they were still overwhelmed," the warrior refuted. Solona dearly wished to whack him over the head with her staff. Maybe it would knock some common sense into his dense skull. The lone surviving scout had mentioned nothing about being careful. All he mentioned was that his group had been overwhelmed, mostly likely in an ambush.
"How many darkspawn can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred?" Jory's ramblings continued. "There's an entire army in these forests."
"There are darkspawn about, but we're in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde."
Jory whirled on the other warrior. "How do you know? I'm not a coward." She didn't bother to disguise her disbelieving scoff. "But this is foolish and reckless. We should go back."
"You forget, I've got magic." She let mana flow to the tips of her fingers, letting loose little sparks of electricity. "We'll be fine."
Surprisingly, Alistair the almost-templar grinned boyishly at her casual use of magic. Jory, on the other hand, looked none too at ease at the blatant reminder that they counted an unchecked mage amongst their number.
"I still do not relish the thought of encountering an army," the man persisted.
Alistair craned his neck, producing a loud crack. "Know this, all Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn whatever their cunning I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here." His tone was warm and gentle. Solona wondered if he was naturally so concerned with the well-being of others or if he was simply attempting to convince Ser Jory the Frightened Mouse of continuing with their assigned task.
"You see, Ser Knight? We might die, but we'll be warned about it first." Solona gave the rogue a sly thumb up, delighted that he had a similar mindset to her own. Jokes and sarcasm in the face of death.
"Well, that is reassuring." Bless the Maker, Jory actually sounded heartened by Alistair's words.
"That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however," the Grey Warden was quick to remind them. "So, let's get a move on."
"Yes, let's. The longer we waste time here the longer this mission takes. Let us find these scrolls and be done with it," Daveth said, impatient.
She was quite happy to let her fellow recruits take the lead as she lacked a sense of direction from growing up in a circle-based tower. Though, as they walked past the corpses of darkspawn they had killed for the fourth time, she began to doubt her companions had any either.
"Any chance you could hurry this along?" she muttered out of the corner of her mouth. "I've not eaten since yesterday and those darkspawn corpses are starting to look rather appetizing." In answer, Alistair subtly angled his shoulders, and the next time Daveth looked backwards, he set off in the direction indicated.
Solona would credit Daveth with sharp eyesight. Once he found the path, he had no issues spying and following the trail markers. There were darkspawn waiting for them deeper in the forest, having apparently set up camp in the ruins. Thanks to Alistair's warning, they were dispatched with rather easily.
Monsters dealt with, the blond man handed each recruit a glass vial. Solona thrust hers next to a hurlock's still bleeding neck. Once full she stoppered it. A twist of her wrist caused the blood to slosh about its container. The black coloring was unnatural. She shoved it into the pack on her waist with her lyrium potions, uncomfortably reminded of Jowan's blood magic.
Their resident thief continued to lead them on a path only he could see. The forest around them grew darker as they traipsed through the wilds. With visibility limited, they relied heavily on Alistair's forewarning of darkspawn. She dared not light their way with magic for fear of drawing the creatures to them.
Daveth paused only once to pluck a white wildflower near the water's edge. "The kennel master was offering a reward for one," he explained when she asked why.
Several battles and uncountable slain darkspawn later, they arrived at the ruins of what was once a magnificent tower. Solona was grateful to have finally reached their destination. Alistair was quite the pack rat, and not at all squeamish about searching darkspawn corpses for any items that may be of use, including taking good condition armor and weapons off their cooling bodies. Honestly, she was more curious why any darkspawn carried Ferelden currency. Alistair had no answer for her, but pocketed the silver and copper coins all the same.
Their journey to the tower took hours. A combination of vague directions (having been told only that the outpost lied to the east), and Daveth got distracted by a set of Chasind trail markers, insisting that the group see where they led. In a hollowed tree they found a mace, a warhammer, a helmet, a bow, and a set of robes Solona swore to never wear.
Daveth dangled it in front of her with a leer. Pieced together from ragged strips of leather and adorned with the teeth and bones of animals, the robe was thoroughly frightful. It also smelled strongly of tanned hides and sweat. Unpleasant, to say the least.
In awe, Solona gazed upwards at the tower white columns, imaging what this outpost must have looked like in its glory days. At this point, she wagered the risk of being attacked was worth having light to search by. A small ball of fire floated above the tip of her staff, and would remain so long as she didn't release the magic, either recalling it back to her or directing it away. She held the staff high, creating a wide circle of light.
Despite being surrounded by rubble and ruin, the chest was easy to locate. Unfortunately, the magic seal had failed. The thick wooden chest was cleaved in half. Based on the wear and tear, Solona believed the seals had broken several years ago. As a matter of fact, she couldn't find any trace that a seal used to exist.
"Well, well, what have we here?"
An unexpected female voice echoed. Solona's eyes strained, looking into the darkness beyond her sphere of light, but could not pinpoint where the voice came from. The three men closed ranks around her, as a dark haired woman stepped out from behind a pillar.
Solona took advantage of the moment of tense silence to study the newcomer. Her dress was clearly Chasind. Her . . . shirt . . . if it could be called that, hardly covered her torso, strategically draped over her breasts. The left shoulder was adorned with glossy feathers. Her most notable feature was her gold eyes.
"Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" She didn't miss Alistair's sudden inhale when the woman stepped fully into the light, revealing the staff she carried on her back. An apostate, deep in the Korcari Wilds. A talented one at that, for neither mage nor templar had sensed her presence. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn-filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?"
The apostate crossed her arms. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?" she posed, defensively.
The barbs were pointed at Solona, she presumed because she was also a mage. "I would first know who you are and where you come from."
"You are the intruder, here. I believe the first question is rightfully mine." The apostate dodged. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?'" The Chasind woman prowled past. "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"
"Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby," warned Alistair.
The woman threw her hands in the air. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?"
"Yes," he drawled. "Swooping is bad."
"She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!"
Solona spared Daveth an incredulous look. She had thought him far more sensible than that.
Said Witch of the Wild's hands came down to rest upon her hips. "Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" In the safety of her own mind, Solona applauded the other mage for the burn she had just delivered. "You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."
"I am Solona. It's a pleasure to meet you." It took an insurmountable amount of will to ignore the flabbergasted look her fellows gave her for being polite to an apostate. But it certainly was a pleasure. Solona had nothing against apostates. The label meant nothing more than the mage in question didn't live blindly under the Chantry's rules. So long as this woman secluded herself in the Korcari Wilds, she couldn't be doing any harm to the perception of mages. At least, she couldn't make it worse if every person she confronted assumed her to be a Witch of the Wilds, anyway.
The other woman's eyes widened, surprised at the courtesy she received. "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan. Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"
"'Here no longer?'" Alistair echoed. "You stole them, didn't you? You're . . . some kind of . . . sneaky . . . witch-thief!"
Solona despaired. Where was the sense in hurling accusations at the only person who might have answers about what happened to the treaties they searched for?
"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"
"Quite easily, it seems," was Alistair's bitter answer. "Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."
"I will not," Morrigan said loftily, "for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing any longer if you wish; I am not threatened."
"If not you, then who removed them?"
Gold eyes studied her, considering. "'Twas my mother, in fact."
"Can you take us to her?"
"There is a sensible request. I like you." Solona smiled weakly, uncertain if she wanted this Chasind apostate's approval.
"I'd be careful. First it's 'I like you . . .' but then 'zap!' Frog time."
For the love of Andraste, Solona wished Alistair would stop opening his mouth.
"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," Daveth jumped to say his piece.
"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," Jory said seriously.
Solona could only wonder how the weak constitutioned Jory was suddenly the only one amongst them to have any sense.
"Follow me then, if it pleases you."
The mage wasted no time doing as bidden, leaving her companions no choice but to follow. It was a short distance to a well hidden hut. Morrigan greeted the old woman stood outside by a large pot on the fire.
"Greetings, Mother. I bring before you four Grey Wardens who—"
"I see them, girl," her mother cut her off. "Mmm. Much as I expected."
Alistair chuckled, disbelieving. "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"
"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide . . . either way, one's a fool!"
"She's a witch, I tell you!" hissed Daveth. "We shouldn't be talking to her!"
"Quiet, Daveth! If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" the third recruit snapped.
"There's a smart lad," Morrigan's mother said mockingly. "Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides, believe what you will. And what of you? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?"
"I'm not sure what to believe," Solona admitted. She wasn't referring just to Morrigan and her mother. In the span of twenty-four hours her world had been turned on its side. She questioned things she once held as truth and lost faith in people.
"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware . . . or is it oblivious? I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain . . . and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!" Solona blinked, taken aback. Morrigan's mother seemed a little . . . disconnected. It was unnerving how she spoke in riddles yet gazed at her with eyes that stared through her.
"So this is a dread Witch of the Wilds?"
"Witch of the Wilds, oh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!"
The old woman cackled. Solona took a half step towards Alistair. The longer she rambled, the more uneasy Solona felt. There was something off about the mother-daughter pair. Something they weren't sharing.
"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother," interjected Morrigan, noticeably exasperated.
"True, they came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these."
Alistair had indeed puffed up, ready to rant about how she shouldn't be touching that which belonged to the Grey Wardens. The old woman, having fetched the treaties in question, handed them over to him. "You . . . oh. You protected them?"
"And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!"
That uneasy feeling returned with a vengeance. "What does that mean?"
"Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" Solona shifted her weight as Morrigan's mother laughed at her cleverness. "Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for!"
"Time for you to go, then," Morrigan insisted.
"Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests."
There was a moment of silent exchange between mother and daughter. Solona fervently prayed they weren't offering to host her party for the night. She would prefer to stumble through the Wilds in the dark than trust either of these women.
"Oh, very well," Morrigan heaved a dramatic sigh. "I will show you out of the woods. Follow me."
The trip back to Ostagar went much faster with the apostate leading the way. Thankfully, they encountered no more darkspawn. It took little convincing from Daveth to get them to detour to the kennel master before reporting to Duncan so he could hand over the wild flower he had harvested for an apparently ill mabari. The kennel master offered for him to return after the battle to see if the dog might re-imprint on him. In an unexpected turn of events, the rogue waved off the promised reward, stating he was glad the mabari would improve.
They reconvened around Duncan's fire.
"So, you return from the Wilds. Have you been successful?"
"Does anyone come back if they fail?" she couldn't help asking.
"No."
Tense silence followed. Daveth stepped forward. "Not that it was easy, but yes."
Duncan nodded approvingly. "Good. I've had the Circle mages preparing. With the blood you've retrieved, we can begin the joining immediately."
No time for second guesses, she mused, which was entirely the point. How many men would willingly partake in a magical ritual that involves consuming darkspawn blood?
"Before we begin," Alistair interrupted, "there was a woman at the tower and her mother had the scrolls. They were both very . . . odd."
"Were they wilder folk?"
"I don't think so. They might be apostates: mages hiding from the Chantry."
"I know you were once a templar, Alistair, but Chantry business is not ours. We have the scrolls; let us focus on the Joining."
Alistair hung his head at the rebuke. Solona held her tongue, certain she would only have further recriminations for him. It was rather unfair of him to rat out the woman who had protected the treaties out of good will.
"Now will you tell us what this ritual is about?" Oddly enough, Jory looked even more anxious now that the moment he had been waiting for was finally getting under way.
Duncan's face was grave as he met each of his recruits' eyes. "I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later."
Solona felt the acrid taste of nausea creep up her throat. She did not want to consider what those words meant. She chose to make a joke of it, because if she didn't laugh she might start crying hysterically. "You're saying this ritual can kill us? Can I get a free pass because I passed my Harrowing? One super secret deadly ritual is enough for me?"
Alistair's eyes widened in surprise. That piece of information must not have reached his ears. Knowing that, she was willing to overlook all of his warnings about her use of magic in battle. It was nice to know he was being cautious because he thought she lacked training and not just because he was afraid of mages.
"As could any darkspawn you might face in battle. You would not have been chosen, however, if I did not think you had a chance to survive."
Given the circumstances of her conscription, Solona doubted that. She would rather he call it what it was: pity. Of the three of them, she was probably the least likely to survive, especially if women were so rarely counted amongst the Grey Wardens. Perhaps the men possessed something that made it easier for them to survive. All she had going for her was magic, and if this Joining went anything like the last week, her magic would count as a negative tally.
"Let's go, then," insisted Daveth. "I'm anxious to see this Joining now."
Jory agreed whole-heartedly, wanting the experience over and done with. Solona held silent. The Harrowing had taught her wanting something meant nothing. Her life was about to change once more, and as was characteristic of her nineteen years thus far, she was given no choice in the matter.
Perhaps it was a good thing that she felt overwhelmingly unprepared for the trial to come. Before her Harrowing, Solona had believed herself ready for it. She was confident that she would pass and eager to be recognized as a full-fledged mage. Ultimately, it had turned out to mean nothing. Templars still watched her. Her phylactery was moved across the country. And being a member of the Circle hadn't spared her whatever punishment Greagoir felt she deserved for a crime she committed under orders.
As a mage, Solona had no control over her own destiny. If she had remained in the tower, every aspect of her life would have been dictated by her templar jailors.
She only hoped the Grey Wardens would be different. There were obviously ranks within, and they had a base in the Anderfels. But based on Duncan's prerequisites for recruiting, the only thing Grey Wardens cared about was whether or not she could kill darkspawn. A task Solona had no issues with. The beasts were unnatural and she enjoyed the karmic irony in a mage killing darkspawn.
Alistair was instructed to lead the recruits to the old temple while Duncan presumably gathered what they would need for the ritual. Anxiety hung in the air between them. For the longest time, none were willing to break the silence.
"The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it." Jory paused his repetitive pacing to complain once more about all the Grey Warden secrecy.
Daveth, even more exasperated than she at the knight's constantly flopping views, snarked at him. "Are you blubbering again?"
"Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?"
Solona was quite frankly stunned. The Grey Wardens weren't like the city guard. One couldn't just sign up. Given that it was possible to fail this Joining, it only made sense that recruits were tested on multiple levels. When death was a possible option, weeding out those that were mentally weak or unwilling to commit was preferable than allowing any glory seeker the opportunity to join.
"Maybe it's tradition. Maybe they're just trying to annoy you." Solona's lips twitched at the cut-purse's comeback.
"I swear I'm the bravest one here, and I'm a woman."
Jory ignored them both. "I only know my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me . . . it just doesn't seem fair."
Precisely why they didn't warn people. Their only recruits would be conscripts.
"Would you have come if they warned you?" Daveth gave voice to her thoughts. "Maybe that's why they don't. The Wardens do what they must, right?"
Jory was incredulous. "Including sacrificing us?"
"I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight."
Solona was pleasantly impressed by the rogue. After a less than stellar introduction, she had dismissed Daveth. She would work with the pickpocket because she had too, but held no interesting in getting to know the man. Maybe mages weren't the only people trying to fight against society's expectations of them. She judged Daveth to be a lowly thug because he was a thief, but a thief would have ignored Duncan's conscription and ran at the first opportunity.
"You make a good point, Daveth."
"You saw those darkspawn, Ser Knight. Wouldn't you die to protect your pretty wife from them?" Jory's eyes flashed. He tried to say something but Daveth didn't give him the chance. "Maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll all die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we'll die for sure."
The knight shrunk back from his ferocity. "I've just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade."
While the Joining was dangerous, Solona wouldn't go as far to call it a foe.
Further discussion was derailed by the reappearance of the Warden Commander. "At last we come to the Joining. The Grey Wardens were founded during the First Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint."
"We're . . . going to drink the blood of those . . . those creatures?" And so returned Ser Jory the Coward.
"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you," Duncan's eyes slid to Alistair, standing behind the half circle of recruits. This is the source of our power and our victory."
"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon."
Duncan resumed his speech. "Not all who drink the blood will survive and those that do are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay. We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?"
The ex-templar took up the figurative baton, bowing his head as he intoned the ceremonial words. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you."
Duncan raised a silver chalice. Solona absentmindedly noticed that his hands did not span all the way around the cup. "Daveth, step forward."
The rogue tightly grasped the chalice. With the slightest of hesitations, he tossed his head back and drank deeply. Immediately, he bent double, a hand coming up to grip his head. Jory's curse went unnoticed in the background. Solona could only watch, numb and horrified, as Daveth collapsed on the cobbled stones.
Alistair knelt beside the prone man, placing two fingers on the pulse point on his neck. "He lives," he said, relief palpable.
Duncan turned his attention on Jory. "Step forward, Jory." The man, shaking like a leaf in the wind, backed himself into a support column.
"But . . . I have a wife. A child! Had I known . . ." He withdrew his sword.
Duncan, chalice in hand, advanced. "There is no turning back."
"No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!"
Solona could only watch as Duncan unsheathed a curved dagger. Jory took a wild swing. Duncan parried the blade, pushing it aside. With Jory unbalanced, his dagger slid home in the warrior's gut. Blood flew.
Solona no longer saw Duncan and Jory. In their place was Jowan, plunging a dagger into his own hand, commanding his blood to dance to his tune. Duncan had warned her the Grey Wardens did not oppose blood magic. As twisted as drinking darkspawn blood was, Solona could tolerate it. The benefits far outweighed the consequences. But killing a man?
"I am sorry," Duncan said as he lowered Jory's body to the ground. Belatedly, Solona wondered what happened to the chalice, for the dark-skinned man was no longer holding it. "But the Joining is not yet complete."
Duncan picked up the chalice, not bothering to sheathe his dagger. Jory's blood pooled on the ground beneath him as the commander came to stand before her. "You are called upon to submit yourself to the taint for the greater good."
Solona took the proffered chalice with shaking hands. For a brief moment, she was mesmerized by the contents. There was power in this chalice, more than just blood. She could sense the lyrium. She breathed deeply, regretting it when the stench of blood filled her nostrils, and tipped the rim of the cup.
Duncan caught the chalice when it fell from slack hands. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."
Solona did not hear him. Pain wracked her body. The corrupted blood burned through her veins. It was wrong. Not simply because ingested blood should have gone to her stomach. She could feel the corruption as it raced through her. Was it replacing her human blood? Would she bleed black blood like those monsters?
Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Ostagar vanished. In its places was a green fog. A dragon roared his confusion. Dark, leathery skin. Rows of teeth as long as her forearm. Blank white eyes.
She was consumed, and knew no more.
Solona left the Fade slowly. Alistair's and Duncan's faces hovered above her.
Awareness returned to her all at once. The stone beneath her was cold, and only served to enhance the phantom ache left behind from the Joining.
"It is done. Welcome."
Duncan moved out of her field of vision, leaving Alistair to help her stand up. "One more death. In my Joining, only one of us died as well, but it was . . . horrible."
He sounded genuinely conflicted by Jory's and the unnamed man's death. Solona's mind grasped on to the completely unrelated tidbit. Were recruits always Joined in groups of three? Neither man had made any mention of another relatively new Warden. Alistair had been assigned to them because he was the most recent to join the order. Did that mean there had only been two people at his Joining?
"I'm glad at least that you made it through."
He was totally blushing. Even the tips of his ears were red. As it was, Solona didn't have the energy to tease him.
"How do you feel?" Duncan asked softly.
"That was more painful than the Harrowing."
Solona felt heat rise in her cheeks. She hadn't meant to complain. Duncan's eyes twinkled, not begrudging her lack of filter.
"Such it what it takes to be a Grey Warden."
"Did you have dreams?" Alistair asked. "I had terrible dreams after my Joining."
In vivid detail, Solona recalled the massive dragon she had dreamed, which no longer seemed to be a delusion. A chill raced down her spine. The dragon must have been the archdemon. She couldn't imagine killing such a beast. Even with the ability to sense it, how could mere humans ever defeat a dragon?
"Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn, as we all do. That and many other things can be explained in the months to come."
If Solona had been paying any attention, she would have questioned the length of time. Instead, she was wishing that the two Grey Wardens would stop taking turns to explain things so she could stop twisting her neck from one man to the other.
"Before I forget, there is one last part to your Joining."
The words registered through a haze of fog. Solona couldn't believe they wanted to ask more of her. At this point, she didn't care if the Chantry would label her an apostate. Whatever came next would be undoubtedly awful, as their tasks for preparing for the Joining were progressively worse, and she wanted nothing to do with it. Solona was done. She was cold and tired and hungry. Surely, this last thing could wait?
"We take some of that blood and put it in a pendant. Something to remind us . . . of those who didn't make it this far."
Wordlessly, the mage accepted the pendant. Unerringly, the blood sealed inside stole her gaze. She slipped the thin chain over her head, tucking the pendant beneath the collar of her robes. This would be her reminder. Nothing came without a price.
"And what of Daveth?" She did not see him anywhere. He had survived, too, didn't he?
"He has yet to awaken," answered Duncan. "Take some time for yourself, but when you are ready, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king."
"What kind of meeting? And why me?'
"The king is discussing strategy for the upcoming battle. I am not sure why he has requested your presence. The meeting is to the west, down the stairs. Please attend as soon as you are able."
Ceremony over, both men left. Solona stared after them for a long while, feeling lost.
Nothing had made sense since she had been forced to leave the Kinloch Hold. The outside world was too different. Too large. She couldn't follow the rules. Where were the lines she wasn't supposed to cross? How was she expected to behave herself? Why was a freshly Harrowed mage important enough to invite to a strategy meeting? Nothing about her screamed she had experience directing armies on a battlefield. Did being a Grey Warden really mean that much to a king?
Duncan had said she had time, so Solona hung about at the top of the ramp. Down below on the far side, she spied King Cailan's shiny golden armor. There were two other men surrounding the table, making the unknown male Teyrn Loghain. Solona couldn't hear their conversation, but it was easy enough to read in their body language that the general and the king were arguing.
They had a line of messenger runners, and from time to time, would send one running. A dark haired duo nearly ran her over as she finally descended. She wasn't prepared in any way, but there was only so long she could keep the King of Ferelden waiting.
"The horde is growing too large. You should warn Mother and Bethany—"
"I'll not be known as a deserter, brother!"
"We're not going to win this battle! There won't be anyone left alive to label you a deserter. You need to get Mother and Bethany to safety."
"And leave you behind—"
The two young men rushed by, uncaring or unaware that they had been overheard.
Fear curled in Solona's stomach. So, King Cailan's early confidence was just a front. His own army didn't believe they were capable of winning tomorrow's battle. She supposed she ought to feel more terrified. Dying had always been a far off concept. The tower saw few deaths, preferring to make mages Tranquil before they succumbed to a demon's influence. Contrarily, Solona felt at ease. She would die young, but she would make a difference. Her end would come on a battlefield fighting against mankind's greatest enemy. Even a day amongst the Grey Wardens had given her a greater purpose than she had trapped inside the tower.
She only wished she had had the chance to say her goodbyes to Cullen. At the very least, he would be able to imagine her doing great things out the world, like they had talked about over dying candles late at night.
"If the king wants to see you and Duncan, you probably shouldn't keep him waiting. He might get mad. Start crying. You'll feel bad . . . and it won't be pretty."
Solona just about jumped out of her skin, not expecting Alistair. "Are you trying to kill me?"
The man in question merely chuckled. "If the Joining failed to kill you, you can survive a heart attack."
"That's comforting. Truly."
"I try."
"Were you invited as well?" she asked.
"No," he said glibly, apparently not at all jealous that she was invited to a secret council meeting and he was not. "Duncan will tell me everything I need to know afterwards. But, seriously, you had best get a move on. Loghain looks like he's getting rather agitated."
"Loghain, my decision is final," the king stated as she neared. "I will stand by the Grey Wardens in this assault."
Solona walked around a mage and a Chantry mother in order to stand beside Duncan on the opposite side of the table. Seeing that a mage and the Grey Warden commander were already present, she really wondered why King Cailan had requested she attend.
"You risk too much, Cailan!" Loghain snapped. "The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front line."
"If that's the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all."
The teyrn clenched his fists. "I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the Orlesians to defend ourselves!"
"It is not a 'fool notion'." The king's face was hard despite the calm tone he spoke with. "Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past . . . and you will remember who is king."
Solona could appreciate how the king card was thrown on the end like an afterthought. She may not agree with Orlesian aid either, but at least the king was arguing for them based on something other than his crown.
Loghain turned away from Cailan, pressing three fingers into his brow. "How fortunate that Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!"
The female mage winced in sympathy. It was a low blow from the teyrn.
"Then our current forces will have to suffice, won't they," the king said, pointedly. Feeling more like an observer than a participant, Solona had to agree. If outside help was not an option, Teyrn Loghain would have to devise a winning strategy with the numbers they had. Perhaps Duncan would remind the king that Arl Eamon's forces only awaited his command?
"Duncan, are your men ready for battle?"
The man from Rivain dipped his head deferentially. "They are, your Majesty."
"And this is the recruit I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order."
"Thank you, your Majesty." There wasn't anything else she could say.
"Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks." Did he sound wistful? Solona must have imagined it. What reason would king have to give up his title and crown and become a Grey Warden?
"Your fascination with glory and legend will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality."
Solona fought the urge to hide behind Duncan's broad shoulders. This strategy meeting was quickly devolving into a grudge match between the king and his general.
The king shrugged. "Fine. Speak your strategy. The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then . . .?"
Both men huddled over a map of Ostagar and the surrounding wilds. "You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover."
"To flank the darkspawn, I remember. This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes?" He tapped a gold gauntleted finger on the map. "Who shall light this beacon?"
"I have a few men stationed there. It's not a dangerous task, but it is vital."
"Then we should send our best. Send Alistair and the new Grey Warden to make sure it is done."
Why did she get the feeling that the King would rather Alistair was attending this meeting? Possibly because he knew her fellow Warden by name and couldn't recall hers, even though she had introduced herself that very morning.
"You mean I won't be fighting in the battle?" Solona didn't know whether to be offended or relieved.
As it stood, the battle plan made no sense to her. If Grey Wardens were so effective against darkspawn, it was foolish to send one, let alone two, to light a signal beacon when they could be of more use on the front line. For that matter, why did Loghain need a signal beacon to know when to charge? This man was the legendary Hero of River Dane. He should be able to read the flow of a battle and know when his flanking group would have the most impact. It seemed completely unnecessary to Solona to waste time with having the king send a signal to an intermediary third party. Given that Loghain's troops would be stationed on higher ground, he would be able to see the signal anyway, making lighting the beacon redundant.
"We need the beacon," stressed Duncan. "Without it, Loghain's men won't know when to charge."
"You see? Glory for everyone."
Whatever King Cailan's reason for sending her and Alistair to light the beacon had nothing to do with glory. But it wasn't her place to argue.
"You rely on these Grey Wardens too much. Is that truly wise?"
Solona bristled. The Grey Wardens had formed to combat the Blights. It was their sole duty. Where did the teyrn get off suggesting they could not be trusted to perform their duty?
"Enough of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they're from." The young king's tone brokered no more protests.
"Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing."
"There have been no signs of any dragons in the wilds," Loghain scoffed.
King Cailan appeared wholly unconcerned. "Isn't that what your men are here for, Duncan?"
"I . . . yes, your Majesty."
The Circle mage took several steps forward. Solona reflexively straightened her back, recognizing the shiny bald head belonging to Senior Enchanter Uldred. She had never interacted with him personally. Privilege of rising to the rank of a senior enchanter, the man could afford to be picky about how many and who he devoted his time to.
The combination of Uldred's selectiveness and his unfavorable school of magic-Entropy, which, like herself, most would not admit being their natural inclination-made for an intimidating figure.
"Your Majesty, the tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi—"
"We will not trust any lives to your spells, mage! Save them for the darkspawn!" The Revered Mother, a silent observer until this point, angrily spoke over the mage. Solona felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head.
Did the mages' presence here mean nothing? Duncan had claimed their magic capable of turning the fight in their favor. And yet, despite the great boon magic was, the Chantry was being openly hostile. Surely these circumstances counted as using magic to serve men?
"Enough!" Loghain cut across them both. "This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon."
"Thank you, Loghain. I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battle beside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!"
"Yes, Cailan. A glorious moment for us all," said Loghain as he determinedly walked away.
The meeting broke up. The upset mage stalked off in a huff, closely followed by the puffed up mother with an all too critical eye. Duncan said his goodbyes to the king and directed Solona to follow him. Alistair fell into step with her on the commander's other side, and together they returned to Duncan's fire.
"You heard the plan. You and Alistair will go to the Tower of Ishal and ensure the beacon is lit."
"What?" Alistair asked, sharply. "I won't be in the battle?"
Solona was silently bemused by their similar responses.
"This is by the king's personal request, Alistair. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."
"So, he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there to hold the torch. Just in case, right?" The words carried more bitterness than Solona anticipated. Alistair was acting as if the king had made this request of them to personally insult him.
"I agree with Alistair. We should be in the battle." It didn't hurt to support her fellow Warden a bit. She didn't care for his reasons to want to be on the front line. It probably had to do with darkspawn being the Grey Wardens' responsibility. Alistair took his devotion to the order very seriously.
Her own reasons were personal. Solona wanted to prove that magic could have a purpose outside the tower. This was her chance to show that mages didn't have to be feared.
"That is not your choice," Duncan said, tone firm. "If King Cailan wishes Grey Wardens to ensure the beacon is lit, then Grey Wardens will be there. We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn. Exciting or no."
"I get it, I get it," Alistair said, suitably chastised. In an aside to her, he muttered, "Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line."
Solona tried to picture the male Warden in a sparkly red thigh length dress dancing the Remigold. It was absurd. "I'd like to see that."
Alistair side-eyed her. "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."
Duncan cleared his throat, drawing his two juniors' attention sheepishly back to him. "The tower is on the other side of the gorge, across from the king's camp. The way we came when we arrived. You'll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you'll overlook the entire valley."
"And just when do we light the beacon?" Solona was still very concerned about this part of the plan. What if they were too slow getting to the top of the tower? Would Loghian refuse to charge without the lit beacon? Or were they expected to spend the next day at the top of the tower, waiting for night to fall?
"We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for."
That only served to confuse Solona further. Wouldn't Alistair only know Grey Warden signals? Was the plan always to have a Grey Warden signal the men stationed at the top of the Tower of Ishal? Because Loghain had originally planned for his own men to be waiting for the signal. If so, they were unlikely to recognize the order's signal, the beacon wouldn't alight, and Loghain wouldn't charge. The more this plan was explained, the more holes Solona was finding. She wasn't a strategist by any means, but it seemed to her that this plan left a lot up to chance, precise timing, and the Grey Wardens, whom Loghain was extremely reluctant to include.
"How long will we have to light the beacon?"
"The battle will be tomorrow night. Once I leave to join the front line, you must move quickly. You'll have less than an hour."
"And what if the archdemon appears?"
"We soil our drawers, that's what," Alistair answered, dryly. Maker strike her if her heart didn't skip a beat.
"If it does, leave it to us. I want no heroics from either of you," Duncan stressed.
"Can we join the battle afterwards?" Alistair was quick to ask.
Duncan shook his head. "Stay with the teyrn's men and guard the tower. If you are needed we will send word." Then he sighed. "Of course, even the best-laid plans go awry, so do what you must. I trust you both."
"Just not enough to fight with the rest of you?" Alistair was skeptical.
But Duncan chuckled in response. "There will be plenty of battles, Alistair. Be patient. Now, get some rest. Tomorrow, I must join the others. From here, you two are on your own. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of that title."
"Duncan," Alistair called out before the older man left, "may the Maker watch over you."
"May He watch over us all," their commander returned.
Nothing said dismissal quite like solemn prayers.
Uncertain, Solona followed Alistair when he cocked his head her direction. He led her to a line of three tents. He indicated that the first in the row was Duncan's. She had a good sense of the Rivaini man, having traveled with him exclusively from Kinloch Hold, and was unsurprised that his tent was the exact same make and size as the others. Duncan was not a materialistic man, nor was he one for basking in luxury. Commander he might be, yet he was still just another Grey Warden.
Alistair raised the flap, allowing her to duck inside first. She gingerly lowered herself to her knees on the clearly unoccupied bedroll. Alistair threw himself down on his own.
"Sorry about the tight quarters. Daveth's resting in the other tent, and I imagined you wouldn't want to sleep in Ser Jory's bed." The mage shuddered, violently. "Yes, thought so. Better to share with a man than sleep in a dead man's bed before his body has even cooled."
Solona felt faint at the reminder of the knight's death. Murder, really. But she couldn't bring herself to admit it even in the safety of her own mind. She would just accept that Duncan's actions were necessary and put the whole incident out of mind. It was her coping mechanism thus far and she was sticking to it.
"We'll drink in his name tonight," said Alistair, pensive.
She wondered if she was required to attend. Because right now, Solona wanted nothing more than sleep. Her body still buzzed from the Joining. She was acutely aware of every inch and could readily pinpoint where each ache originated. If her Harrowing was any indication of how long it took to recover, Solona expected to sleep until midday, easily.
"The Grey Wardens have standing permission walk about the camps after nightfall."
"And you put it to illustrious use."
Her sharp wit earned her a boyish grin. "Parties are good for morale," he claimed. It would have been more believable if Alistair could keep a straight face, but the left side of his mouth kept twitching.
"We can look into a separate tent tomorrow, if you'd like. I'm sure the quartermaster still has some."
"No!" she blurted, face coloring an impressive shade of red when the warrior quirked an eyebrow. "This is fine," she reassured, not wanting to admit she didn't want to be alone. Alistair's presence was soothing. He reminded her of Cullen. They shared similar physical features and had the same build. Alistair was also a templar, which actually helped Solona feel more at ease. Both blushed so easily, she thought wistfully, though Alistair had a much sharper tongue and no filter to speak of.
The former templar contemplated her for a moment, before shrugging and accepting her words.
The duo sat in silence. For how long, Solona did not know. Eventually, they could hear the rustle of fabric as Duncan returned to his tent and bedded down for the night. Alistair had apparently been waiting for that occurrence, for he leapt to his feet.
He tugged her up, catching Solona as she stumbled on wobbly legs. "Time to introduce you to the rest of the family."
She let Alistair lead her back through the King's camp and up and past the medical tents to reach the gate that lead to the valley, where the majority of the army was camped. Dark eyes lingered on their still linked hands. She could take her hand back, but the physical contact was . . . nice. It was morbidly comforting to know she was not alone as her whole world rewrote itself.
Solona was introduced to, she hazarded a guess, twenty-some Wardens. Too many to recall all their names. She did note the mix of races. Most of their number was human, but she also counted 3 elves and a dwarf.
A drink was pressed into her hand. Solona debated the wisdom of drinking before battle. Encouraged by the rest of her companions, the mage took a hesitant sip. She sputtered, not expecting the bitter taste. Laughter rose up at her reaction, loud and hearty.
Several rounds of drinks later, for them at least, Solona had yet to finish her first, Alistair stood and gave a surprisingly put together speech for a man who had consumed six mugs.
"Tonight saw another Joining. We welcome Solona and Daveth to our ranks!" The Grey Wardens toasted, repeating the newcomers' names. "But we also mourn the loss of Ser Jory of Redcliffe—"
"Highever!"
"Uh, right. Ser Jory of Highever. What we do is not easy. Often, it is thankless. But we are Grey Wardens, and we do whatever it takes to end a Blight. The rest of the world may never know his sacrifice, but we will remember his name. And one day, we will see them all again. To Jory!"
Cries of "To Jory!" were echoed back.
Solona chugged her drink and was awarded a companionable slap on the back. "That's how it's done, girlie."
Solona grinned back brightly at whomever congratulated her. Why were there two of him? She didn't remember Alistair introducing twins. She accepted another drink, settling in to listen to the other men share how they were recruited. The alcohol made her feel euphoric. She basked in the feeling, laughing gayly, particularly when it was uncalled for.
That euphoria was quickly replaced with melancholy when it was her turn. "A friend wanted to escape the circle. I helped him. Then led him to waiting templars. Turns out he was a blood mage. Duncan said he admired my dedication."
The mage sneered. Dedication. Looking at the small contingent of Grey Wardens, all of whom were awkwardly silent, it was more like desperation. Likely Duncan needed the numbers. Why not offer an already condemned person salvation? Only it wasn't, was it? Solona could have died and it wouldn't have mattered. All his bases had been covered. He gained a mage Warden if she survived. And if she didn't? Well, no one mourned a mage's death.
Alistair's fingers curled over her shoulder. "I think it's best if we call it a night. Come." He half supported, half carried her with one arm around her waist and the other holding hers over his shoulder. She was tenderly set upon her bedroll.
He watched as she curled in on herself. He knew better than to take drunken words to heart. There was no small amount of heartbreak in her tone when she talked about her friend. He imagined there was a lot more to the story than she disclosed.
With time, Solona would learn the Grey Wardens could be trusted with more than making sure she survived the battle. Him in particular. Alistair wanted her to trust him. The moment she had crested the ramp, he had felt a connection. He took it as a sign from Andraste.
Solona would go on to greatness. He could feel it in his gut. Hopefully, she would let him in. The poor girl could definitely use a friend.
He tucked a lock of wayward honey hair behind her ear. "May the Maker give you pleasant dreams."
LINE
"Still think Grey Wardens are romantic, Seeker?" Bitterness dripped from the last two words.
Cassandra straightened, drawing back her shoulders at the accusation. "Yes," she said, firmly. "It is a noble cause Grey Wardens take up. More so in light of the sacrifices they make. I do not know if I had the strength at her age to make that decision."
The dwarf was grudgingly impressed. "We'll see if you still feel that way in a couple of hours." He would probably be at the Battle of Denerim by then.
His interrogator arched a dark eyebrow. Varric could already see the wheels turning in her mind. Envisioning increasingly dramatic scenarios that fit her preconceived notion of the Hero of Ferelden. Fanciful things like realizing love on the battlefield and promising not to die. Those kind of stories only existed in books.