Prologue
The nightmares had been getting worse, Alistair could tell. The young man huddled near the fire, shielding himself against the approaching colds of winter as he watched his slumbering dark-skinned companion. He had been traveling with Duncan for the majority of the past five months, watching his every move and diplomatic gesture as the elder Grey Warden led him from city to city in Ferelden with the goal of recruiting additional Wardens to resist the coming Blight. The cool-mannered gentleman that he followed during the day was changed once he succumbed to sleep; he became restless, angry, and – most of all – fearful.
Alistair had learned from Duncan that the task set before them was a difficult one. Ferelden's previous King, Maric Theirin, had been the first to allow the fabled Order to establish itself back in the country that it had tried to overthrow centuries before. It had been over a decade since Duncan had been established to watch over Ferelden and aid in the establishment of the Order once again, and growth was slow and difficult. At this time, the whole of Ferelden saw no more than three-dozen Wardens within their ranks, including Alistair himself. Compared to the hundreds that resided in neighboring nations, it was not only an embarrassment, but also a danger. Duncan and those Wardens who had been around far longer than Alistair were positive that a Blight was on the horizon, and that they did not have the manpower to force it back underground. Duncan was doing all he could – recruiting heavily across the country for skilled warriors or, like Alistair, warriors with promise. In the end, however, Duncan was looking for men and women who could survive – not just in encounters with darkspawn, but also the ritual that was required to establish a person as a Grey Warden. Unfortunately, recruitment had been slim, and of every three potential candidates, they'd be lucky if two of them could make it through the ritual itself.
It had been a rough few months, and Alistair had seen his share of potential allies fall. Still, he was overjoyed and honored to be a part of the legendary Order where he felt he had a place and purpose, and where his fellow Wardens accepted him openly as a brother in arms. This level of unquestioning acceptance was a new experience for Alistair, and he was enjoying every moment of it. Looking back to Duncan's restless form, he sighed. In a few short months, Duncan had allowed himself to be adopted by the young man as the father he'd never known, and the old Warden had accepted the role willingly; ready to pass on what wisdom he could in their time together. Now that they were so near where the darkspawn were gathering above ground, Alistair knew that he'd have to be left behind. They'd picked up two potential initiates in the past few weeks of travels – Ser Jory of Redcliffe and a young rogue from the capitol named Daveth – and Duncan had made it perfectly clear that when they were dropped off at Ostagar, Alistair would be expected to stay with them while Duncan used what remaining time he had before the battle finding as many additional recruits as he could. Alistair had protested briefly and then acquiesced, as there were many preparations necessary to fortify Ostagar, and every ready hand was necessary in order to fully organize against the coming horde. As it had been described to him, the Blight must be stopped where it began, or they risked Ferelden being entirely overrun with darkspawn. If it got that far, it would take an alliance of nations to stop the Blight – if it could be stopped at all.
Duncan jumped in his sleep, hand raised protectively before his face, and his eyes startled open, wide with fear. Sitting up, he looked around to see Alistair watching him quietly, and the two new recruits sound asleep on their bedrolls. Duncan sighed, resting his head in his hands.
"Are you okay, Duncan?"
Duncan looked at the blonde youth who had been worriedly watching him, and shook his head. He could feel the Calling itching at the edges of his mind when he slept, and feared that he would not see the Blight ended before he was forced to run headlong into the nearest horde; lest he wait and join them, instead. "I find myself wondering why I even bother lying down any more, Alistair. Indeed, with everything that must be accomplished, it would be preferable to forgo sleep and dreams altogether… doubly so as the dreams get stronger."
Alistair frowned and watched the coals glow and fade in the fire. He knew well enough from the other Wardens' tales that the worsening dreams heralded the Warden's descent to the Deep Roads, where he would be honored one last time before being sealed in darkspawn-infested trenches with one mission – take out as many of the fiends as you can before you are overrun and killed by the very beings you were sent to destroy.
Seeing the look of sorrow in Alistair's eyes as he pretended to examine the fire, Duncan smiled and rose to give Alistair a firm clap on the shoulder. "Take heart, Alistair. I'm not in the Deep Roads yet. There's still much work left for me to do."
Alistair smiled and took Duncan's offered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. "Shall I wake the recruits so we can get to Ostagar by first light?"
Duncan looked up to the stars, guessing that they had a couple of hours until daybreak. "Excellent idea. The earlier we arrive, the sooner I can head out."
Alistair used his foot to nudge the slumbering candidates awake, and then kicked the campfire out, covering the coals with wet moss from the surrounding wilds swamp. "Where will you be going next, Duncan?"
Duncan pondered this question briefly, and responded, "Highever, I believe. I've heard promising things from that region."