Chapter 1; Scourge of Shadow
Characters of the Chapter
Borsk Wildling
Osro Wildling
Tal Wildling
Théo Orlesian soldier
A small band of perhaps dozen of the Free Folk were making their way through the wintry forest. Alongside them were traipsing a very out of place looking group of Orlesian civilians. The Orlesians were cartographers, sent to map the terrain between two of the fortresses guarding the Corridor, the main route between Thedas and Westeros. The Free Folk for their part had been offered a reward by the Imperials in exchange for acting as guides and guards for the cartographers. For the Free folk this also represented a chance for trade, exchanging furs and meat for the fancy goods the Orlesians had on offer.
"Miserable, frozen pile of dung…" One of the Orlesians muttered, draping the fancy looking winter clothes tighter around himself as he continued to put one foot in front of the other.
"Oi! This *miserable, frozen pile of dung* is our homeland. Don't have to like it if you don't want, maskface, but you don't see us coming to your place and insulting it." Said Osro, an older wildling with grey thin hair.
"As if we could, Da. Hard to say a bad word about the castles they live in. Lot more impressive than our huts that's for sure." Said a younger Wildling woman with blonde hair.
"Ugh. Their castles are so pretty it makes me want to gag. And at least our huts are nice and warm. Bet their stone homes are colder on the inside than outside at this time of the year." Osro said.
"Please ser, no more talk of cold! This is enough as it is." The Orlesian said, shivering involuntarily.
Osro gave the Imperial a long, disapproving look, then shook his head. "Bloody kneelers. Whiny weaklings, not even strong enough to come here without us. Wouldn't bother to give them my time if there wasn't good steel in it." He grumbled.
"Said by a man so old he can't lift his spear any longer. The one in his hands or the one in his pants." Tal quipped, earning a few chuckles from the other Free Folk.
"Watch your tongue girl, or I'll have to belt you." Osro warned, though his tone revealed that he was not truly angry.
"Try it old man. Haven't been able to do that to me since I was eight." She countered with an equal tone.
As the walk continued Tal briefly slowed her pace to walk beside the Orlesians. "Don't worry, won't be long now. We'll be at your castle soon enough, and then you can get good and warm. Don't listen to what my Da tries to tell you. Your castles have nice warm fires and hot spiced wine." She said compassionately to the Orlesian from earlier.
"I know. I left one such castle to go on this mission. No doubt the one we are headed to has the same comforts. But thank you for your words. You have more kindness in you than your father." He replied.
"Da is not a bad man at the end of the day. Just… traditional. No surprise, since has lived most of his life beyond the Wall. Only went south of it to escape the dead and came back here as soon as they were gone. His mind is already made up. I on the other hand was just a kid back then. Had plenty of time to get to know kneelers growing up, first the Westerosi and now you people. I know how you people think, what you are like. I know you aren't so bad, just very different. And some things you can do better than we ever could. Sometimes I like your world better than the one I live in."
"Hmmm." The Orlesian hummed surprisingly quietly, though nodding in appreciation. Then he bowed his head and kept on walking.
"Still feeling the loss of your buddies?" She asked after observing the Orlesian for the moment.
"Yeah, a little. But I'll be ok." The Orlesian admitted. "Not to give offense, but you seem to be remarkably unaffected, given that some of yours were lost as well." He then commented.
"Not because I don't care, or because I refuse to show it 'cause of some stupid pride thing. And I suppose if someone like my Da died I'd be bawling like anyone. But death happens a lot around here. We don't even name our children before certain age because so many die before it. So you kind of have to learn to live with that. If you can't you'll go crazy. So when that sort of thing happens you try to put it out of your mind and shoulder on. Live for the living as my Ma likes to say." She explained.
"I see. A rough way to live, but I guess it's the only one in a place like this." He said.
"Yup, though I'm happy to say things have gotten better in my time. This used to be a lot rougher country to live in. Harsher weather. Winters and summers used to last for many years you know, not just a few months each year. Summers were cold, and Winters an outright nightmare. But now with the White Walkers gone you actually get snowless summers, at least when you are this close to the wall." She said.
"Worse than this? Oh, I don't even want to think about it." The Orlesian said, giving another shiver.
Tal gave a short laugh at that, then moved back up the line
Finally the Star-shaped fortress called The Lady's Radiance by the Orlesians came into view. There had been a time Tal had not known where the name came from, until one of the Orlesians had explained that the name was in reference to Andraste, the prophetess of the deity the Orlesians worshipped. There was a chain of castles just like this one all along this coastline, spanning from this place where Hardhome had once stood all the way to the borderlands of Thedas somewhere so far to the north no one she knew among the Free Folk had ever been there. And every one of these border fortresses had a name invoking the Thedosian prophetess. The Lady's Hope, The Lady's Light, The Lady's Strength and so on and so forth. Either the Orlesians had been feeling very religious when they were building these forts or they had been suffering from a serious lack of imagination at the time.
Beyond the fort, some five hundred meters out to the sea, rose a tower taller than any that had existed beyond the wall before, reaching toward the sky. Where possible such towers had been built on islands and other natural formations, but this particular one was on open water, the bulk of its mass underwater to keep it steady, this including the massive chains that kept the structure anchored to the sea floor. Tal had also been told that spells had been worked into the tower's foundations. Much of that she had not understood, but apparently those spells ensured the tower would not flip over even if rocked by particularly violent waves.
From that tower a curtain of rippling light expanded as far as the eye could see. Not unlike the curtains of light that sometimes lit up the night sky in this part of the world. From here she could not see any of the other towers, but she knew this wall of energy linked with all of them, together forming the fabled Corridor that connected Thedas with Westeros and Essos. In short a miracle crafted by these Orlesians, something easily matching the Wall in terms of scale. But unlike the Wall the Corridor connected rather than separated. That alone made Tal like it better.
The Free Folk stopped just outside the treeline and waited. Someone looked at their motley group from above before disappearing behind the battlements. Some time longer passed without anything happening. Then the gate of the castle opened partway and a group of Orlesian soldiers walked through. Meeting outside like this was typical when the Imperials and the Free Folk were trading. The Orlesians didn't like to let the Free Folk inside their fort, nor would have the Free Folk have been comfortable inside those walls, surrounded on all sides by these metalface soldiers.
The Orlesians meeting them numbered around a dozen, same as the free folk. Tal noted that the Imperials were armed, but this gave her no particular cause for alarm. The free folk had carried their weapons into the meeting as well. Tal's clan was usually friendly with the Orlesians, but not all of the Free Folk were the same, so the Imperials knew to be wary. And even a meeting between friendly groups could sometimes go sour. So arriving into a meeting like this armed was understood and expected as a necessary precaution. That said Tal wanted no blood here this day. Nonetheless she grasped her spear a little bit tighter.
The two groups met and eyed each other for a moment. "Greetings. We have brought your fellow Orlesians to you, as you requested." Osro said then, stepping forward.
An Orlesian officer nodded in greeting, then took a look at the civilians. "We were told to expect five of our people. I see three. Where are the others?" He asked.
"Had a problem along the way. Two of yours walked into a crevasse hidden under the snow. Died from the fall." Osro explained.
"I see. That is unfortunate." The imperial replied.
"Indeed." Osro concurred.
"But we brought the rest. Now we would like to have our pay." He added, motioning to the long crate carried by two of the Orlesians.
"I'm afraid that will be out of the question." The Orlesian said.
"What? What do you mean?" Osro said, his smile freezing on his lips.
"We offered you ten of our swords for delivering our cartographers here safely. ALL of them. But now it turns out not all of them made it. I'm afraid the terms of our arrangement have been violated. As a result I'm afraid I must declare you payment to be forfeit." The officer explained.
"You… you can't do that!" One of the Free Folk named Borsk protested. "We went through a lot of trouble to get them here when we didn't have to. We lost some of our own doing this. You can't just decide not to honor your part of the bargain after all that."
"I'm afraid I can, and afraid circumstances dictate that I must. And while your losses are regrettable, they have nothing to do with me. Perhaps you should consider doing a better job of it next time." The Orlesian said.
"We aren't going to go anywhere without our payment. And your people haven't yet reached home. We were promised blades. You'll give them to us if you want your people to make it." Borsk declared, his voice hardening. Tal and Osro both grimaced. Bloody idiot. His threat made both groups tense up. Orlesian and Free Folk alike had hands on their weapons in an instant, though swords remained sheathed for the moment. Fortunately the Orlesian officer held up his hand to stop his people from attacking. No doubt he was concerned for the Orlesian mapmakers. If it came to blows they could well end up dead. The civilians were right in the midst of the Free Folk. The soldiers would never reach them in time.
"Enough." Osro said, giving Borsk an icy glare. He then discarded his weapons and with slow, calm steps walked towards the Orlesian. After a moment of consideration the Orlesian unbuckled his sword belt as well and handed his weapon to one of his subordinates, then stepped forth.
"Pay no attention to Borsk. He's a moron. There's no need to shed blood over this. We can negotiate." Osro said in a low tone.
"I'm not certain there is anything to talk about. You were offered payment in exchange for doing a job. You failed to deliver. That's the end of it. It will not do for me to reward failure." The Orlesian said.
"We didn't fail altogether. We still brought three of them. And let's be honest, if not for us odds are none of them would have made it. As for the other two… it was an accident, one that cost us as well as you. We didn't cause it and it didn't happen because we were careless. We were just unlucky. Things like that just happen sometimes, to the best of us. Ask any of your people experienced in travelling the wilderness if it doesn't." Osro said.
"But I'll admit we did lose some of our charges. So what I would see as fair would be partial payment for partial work. The original deal was ten swords for escorting five people here successfully. By my reckoning that means every person was worth about two swords. So I think six swords would be adequate for these three. Six swords and we part ways as friends. We will be there next time your people need escorting and next time we will do better. I promise it." He added.
The Orlesian officer grasped his chin, considering the proposal. "You do offer a reasonable solution. And the Empire should keep its friends close in your country. I believe we have terms." He said finally, the officer and Osro shaking hands.
Tal gave a relieved smile. That had gotten dangerous there for a moment. Damn Borsk and his idiocy. She honestly had to wonder if he had been born that stupid or if something had happened to make him that way. Thank the Gods her father was able to keep a cool head despite his distaste for this job overall.
The Orlesians removed four swords from the crate holding them, then handed the box over to the Free Folk. The mapmakers went to stand with their fellow imperials. Things seemed about to end on a happy note. But in that case… why was she still feeling so anxious?
A strange sense of dread had been growing in her mind as they had conversed with the Orlesians. She had attributed it to the standoff with the Imperials at first, but now she began to sense there was more to it. None of the others had yet realized that anything was amiss, but Tal had unusually keen senses for such matters, which had served her well on many a hunting trip. She could always sense danger approaching, even when no one else was able to. Some were even whispering she was a warg of some sort, though she had never been able to get inside the heads of animals or anything like that. Now those senses were going off again, though she could not discern a clear cause. Her smile fading away, she turned and stared into the forest they had come from.
"What's the matter?" Osro asked, having noted the change in his daughter's mood.
"There's something out there. Something's wrong." She said, eyes continuing to scan the tree line.
"Something? What something?" Osro asked.
"Not sure. Something." She did not see any movement as of yet. But there was something there, she was sure of it.
"I don't see anything. You sure?" The Orlesian officer commented. The other Free Folk and Orlesians were now looking into the forest, trying to see whatever she was going on about.
"She's the best tracker you will ever see. If she says there's something out there you better believe it." Osro interjected.
"Well maybe there is another group of you people out there? Maybe someone followed you?" The Orlesian said.
"No. We'd have noticed if it was that. This has nothing to do with the Free Folk." Tal said.
"Are there more of your people around by any chance?" Osro asked of the officer.
"No, not to my knowledge. There are a few patrols up and about, but nothing that should be this close at this hour." The Orlesian replied.
"We shouldn't stay here. I don't think it's safe." She said, as sternly as she could manage.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about. But ok. If you think there is danger then you can come into the fort for a time. Just keep to yourselves and…" The officer said.
That was all that there was time to say before a black fletched arrow flew out of the woods and nailed Borsk through the chest. Then, snarling, hissing and screeching, a swarm of creatures emerged from the forest, charging at the humans in the clearing. The creatures were vaguely humanoid, standing on two legs, dressed in crude metal armor and armed with an assortment of equally crude weapons. But there was no way these creatures could be mistaken for human beings. Their flesh was misshapen and warped, their lipless mouths full of teeth sharp as needles. And these creatures had a palpable aura of malevolence about them. It was unlike anything Tal had ever witnessed. The White Walkers and their undead servants had been terrifying to her as a child, but you could not smell the evil off them like with these creatures.
"What the… Darkspawn!" The Orlesian officer shouted, darting to get his sword back.
"The what!?" Tal shouted while Osro claimed one of the swords traded to them. Clearly the Imperial knew what these creatures were, but there was no time for him to offer an explanation. The Orlesian civilians ran away while everyone else turned their attention to the creatures swooping down on them. Imperial and Free Folk alike fought bravely, fought well, killing several of the creatures. But many more remained to take the place of those that fell. In the chaos of the clash no one noticed how deeper in the forest a rumble began to echo. The rumble of a vast number of running feet…
Tal put her spear through the throat of one of the creatures. Hissing, bubbling blood poured out of the wound and the creature went down. "At least these creatures die the same as us" She had time to think.
Then she heard a shout from his father and turned, just in time to see him get cut down by another of the creatures. Briefly she was frozen in shock, tears escaping from her eyes. Then with an animalistic howl she charged spear first at the monster responsible. It did not have time to react before she sunk her weapon deed into the body of the creature, deep enough that her hand brushed against the armor it wore.
Sizzling blood once again flowed, some of it spilling on her arm. The substance seeped through the seams and openings of her coat and she screamed as the blood burned her skin like acid. So painful was the experience that she let go of her weapon and stumbled back, holding her arm against her body. Her weapon was left stuck deep in the flesh of the creature.
While this was happening the fight had turned increasingly grim. As more and more creatures were pouring out of the forest the humans were starting to get overrun. Their poor weapons and armor meant that most of the Free Folk had already been slain, leaving only the hardiest fighters alive. The Orlesians had fared a little better, but even their numbers were getting dangerously thin. What really took away their will to fight was when further away from their battle a massive swarm erupted from the forest, ignoring the small skirmish and heading straight to the fortress. There had to be hundreds, thousands, with towering monstrosities accompanying the horde of smaller creatures. An army that had materialized as if from nowhere. The humans realized they were hopelessly outnumbered, a pebble next to a tide of evil rushing past them.
"Fall back! Fall back!" The Orlesian officer shouted. It was the correct order to give, but it was given too late. Unable to flee to the fortress, they scattered in all directions. Yet for most of those that yet lived it was in vain. Most of those that turned to flee were cut down by the monsters, even more were shot by the darkspawn that carried bows.
Tal fled like the rest. In her panic she left her weapon in the darkspawn and ran for her life. It so happened that the Orlesian officer was fleeing in the same direction than she was. They fled away from the fortress and the horde descending on it. Only a few creatures were near chase after them, as their skirmish had happened near the edge of the main body of the horde. Those they evaded as best they could, heading into the forest. They had almost reached the tree line when the Orlesian suddenly grunted and stumbled, an arrow sticking from his back. He almost fell but Tal caught him, helping him hobble his way into the forest, leaning heavily on her. More arrows impacted the trees around them as they escaped deeper inside the woods. But the two of them were not hit, and for the moment it seemed the enemy was not invested in pursuing them further.
When she was certain that they were out of the immediate danger he sought to remove the arrow in her unexpected comrade in arms. But he stopped her from doing so. "That arrow might be the only thing keeping me from bleeding to death. Leave it be." He told her.
Reluctantly she accepted his reasoning, and the two trudged onwards, him leaning on her for support due to his injury. As the haze of the adrenaline rush of the battle and their escape started to fade away, she began to cry, tears streaming from her eyes.
"Da…da…da…" She sobbed over and over again. Her father had been a demanding parent, harsh even. But such was required to teach someone to survive beyond the Wall. As she had grown up she had understood the reasons, and forgiven his methods. She had truly cared for her old man, and now that he was dead she knew that more clearly than she ever had.
She cursed herself for not keeping a closer eye on him. Her father had experience, but the strength of his youth had long since left him. What business did she have to leave him all by himself to be cut down like this? She cursed herself again for being a coward and running away, leaving her father there to rot.
"How am I ever going to tell it to mother?" She mumbled, still crying uncontrollably.
"I'm such a craven. A weak, stupid craven." She thought bitterly. She should not have fled, she knew that now. That others had fled as well did not matter at all to her. She should have done more, fought harder to try and save more lives. So many had died. By rights she should have been one of them. She had no right to be alive.
As they walked on she noticed the Orlesian starting to slow down, leaning on her more and more heavily. His injury was staring to get to him.
"No. Don't stop. We can make it. Just a bit longer." She said, practically dragging him forward as his legs began to give away under him. It was not true of course. They had escaped in a rush. She did not have a weapon. They had no supplies. Most of all they had no plan, no notion of where to go or what to do. They were just trying to get away. But she couldn't tell him that. She couldn't even tell that to herself.
"No. I can't. I can't go on. You have to go on without me." The Orlesian said, slipping from her grasp and falling to the ground.
"Screw that! I'm not letting you die here. Now get up. Get up!" She said, trying to pull him back to his feet, unsuccessfully. ¨
She did not truly understand why it was so important that this one Orlesian lived. She did not know him. They had never met before and once their deal was complete odds were they would never meet again. He counted amongst the kneelers, which meant that on a bad day his kind could even be an enemy. Yet she wished him to live, needed him to. She had to save at least something other than herself.
And while he was not a man of her tribe, or any tribe among the Free Folk, deep down she knew a simple truth: Whatever these creatures were, against their ilk all peoples were one, no matter who they were or where they were from. A single clash with the monsters was all that it had taken for her to realize that.
"Listen. Listen!" The Orlesian said, managing to catch her attention. "These creatures, darkspawn… they are incredibly dangerous, especially in the numbers we saw. You need to warn your people. You need to tell them what you saw here. Rally your people to fight and unite their strength with ours, before it's too late. Find my people too and tell them the same. Tell them to call on the Grey Wardens."
"We can tell them together. You can make it. Don't give up…" She said, part of her still not understanding why this one's survival mattered.
"I'm sorry. If I could come with you I would. But the darkspawn… they killed me already. I can feel it." He said, surprisingly in peace about the fact he was going to die.
"Don't. Don't leave me all alone. I can't make it without you." She pleaded quietly.
"You can. You know your country, and if you can survive here you're tough." He said, his voice starting to grow weaker.
"What I asked of you, will you do it? It is important." He asked, mustering his remaining strength.
Finally forced to conclude that there was no saving the Orlesian, she gave a sad, resigned nod.
"Good. Good." He said. "I don't think I ever caught your name?" He asked then.
"Tal." Said she.
"Theó." Said the Orlesian, his voice now barely above a whisper. "Well, Tal. I think I have to go now. Too bad I didn't get to know you better. You seem like a nice person."
"Take my sword. You may need it. Warn our peoples. Warn them…" He told her.
Those words ended up being his last, as the last of his life left him. And Tal wept for this stranger that she had never met before. She had wanted to save someone other than herself. It felt so wrong to be the only survivor. By rights she should have died with the rest. Being alive made her feel so ashamed it hurt.
Coupled with the loss of her father and the rest of her travelling companions, the fear of the battle and the sheer horror of having faced these monsters… it all became dense, expanding ball of hurt that very nearly overwhelmed her. She wanted to scream until her throat was raw and pour the sorrow and pain out of her that way. But she forced those sounds back down her throat. These darkspawn monsters were still out there. If they heard her yelling they would find her. Come to think of it, maybe she would not have minded that, as long as they killed her quickly. But she could not die just yet. She had words of warning to deliver first. She had promised to. She could not save her Da. But maybe she could still save others.
With these thoughts she slowly stood up, collected the Orlesian's weapon, sheath, belt and all, and wandered off on her search for people to alert to this threat.
She hung her head as she walked, grief refusing to entirely leave her. But with every step she took the will to see this done grew inside her, helping her combat her sorrow. She had not even heard of darkspawn before today and she did not have the fairest notion of what a Grey Warden was, but still she resolved to do this. The trek would not be an easy one, with her having fled with nothing more than the clothes she wore and this weapon she had retrieved from the Orlesian. Water was easy enough to find since she could eat the snow around her. Food would be trickier, since she had nothing on her and a sword as hardly an ideal tool for hunting. She would have to make it work as well as she could and collect whatever edible there was to be found in her surroundings in the meantime. Warmth would be another problem. She did not even the means to build herself a fire. She would have to find caves and other cover to sleep in, otherwise she would surely freeze to death during the nights.
Maybe she ought to find her way to another one of the Imperial castles along the coast? She had, after all, promised to bring word to them as well. And given the numbers of these creatures the Metalfaces would be needed as allies. The Free Folk were too few now to do battle with armies or wage great wars.
The Imperials seemed to know the threat better than she did and would doubtless appreciate the warning she had to give, assuming of course they didn't already know by that time. Once the metalfaces understood her purpose they might agree to give her supplies. Maybe even treat her to a good meal before sending her on her way. And hopefully they would know what Grey Wardens were and how to summon them here.
Once she went looking for the free folk it would bring its own assortment of troubles. Not all of them would take kindly to an unannounced visitor from another clan. If she found the wrong ones they would kill her, and her warning would die with her. If she really got it wrong she would be killed, then eaten after. Even those who would tolerate her presence and leave her unharmed might think her a wandering idiot all soft in the head and ignore her words. She needed to find someone who was willing to hear her out and would believe her. Someone who would take the spark of warning she bore and make it into a pyre that would summon the Free Folk to rally together to defend themselves. To be the horn that wakes the sleepers as the Crows at the Wall would put it.
Tormund. That was the one she needed to find. He was not the King of the Free Folk, but he was well respected by most of the clans for the leadership he had provided after Mance had died. What's more he would understand what it meant to set aside mutual differences and band together against a greater threat. She could explain it to him that these creatures were as much of a threat as the White Walkers had been. Somehow she felt that it would not be much of an exaggeration.
She did not know where exactly Tormund might be found, but she had some notions on where to start looking. Once she reached the Orlesians she might learn more. Even if the Metalfaces had not seen him directly they might have heard second hand information from their dealings with other Free Folk.
Tormund could be found with enough time. But first she would have to find the Imperials. Finding them would be easy enough given that they didn't usually like to leave their castles. But to do so she needed to have a notion of where she herself was. In her rush to flee she had not paid great thought to the direction. Every inch of the forest she was in looked alike to her, even to her tracker's instincts. She decided to head to higher ground so she could get her bearings. Once she had a notion of where the coastline ran she could follow it until she found another Orlesian castle.
As she walked her hand occasionally sneaked inside her sleeve to scratch the arm that had been splashed with darkspawn blood. The skin there was still hurting for some reason, like her arm had been plunged in boiling water or acid. She stopped to wash her arm with snow, but that didn't help at all. She pressed on, trying to stop herself from scratching as she felt her skin starting to actually get a little thin from the constant, intense scraping of her fingernails. Even so at times when she drifted into her thoughts her hand went back inside her sleeve, trying to claw the hurting away.
Was she imagining things, or was the pain slowly getting worse, spreading up her arm? Come to think of it she was not feeling quite like her usual self. As if she was in the early stages of getting sick, but not of any disease she had been exposed to before. What was going on?
"Such foul creatures." She thought. Even hurting them carries risk apparently. She hoped that whatever this feeling growing inside her was, it would pass with time, or that she could find help to heal her. At the very least she wanted to have accomplished her task before this feeling of illness became too much to bear. She wouldn't give up, so she bit her lip and continued to put one foot in front of the other.
The ground began to rise and soon enough she found herself on a hilltop, high enough above the rest of the forest that she could see for miles around. She found the jagged outline of the coast with minimal effort, establishing where she was and where she needed to go.
But she also noticed the smoke. Thick black smoke, not the kind made by any campfire. Buildings burning. The fortress of The Lady's Radiance was on fire. The foot of the fortress had gone black from dark shapes, a living carpet of creatures. It could not have been more than a few hours since the initial ambush. Even so the fortress appeared to be in bad shape already. The Orlesian fortresses had always appeared perfect in their design. Imposing, impenetrable. Even had the Free Folk decided to try, there would have been nothing they could do against structures like that. Even the armies of the southerners would have found them an intimidating challenge. Yet somehow these things were tearing this fortress apart at an alarming rate. Suddenly she was glad she wasn't there right now.
Then to her horror she realized the odd sense of dread had returned, and she understood. She had not evaded them. They were here. They had come for her.
This time it was not just a premonition that alerted her to their presence. Something new, something horrible had been added to that. Somehow she could feel their thoughts as a murmur buzzing inside her mind. If they had a language she could not make sense of it, but she sensed their intent well enough. Cruel, malicious minds that wanted to hurt her. Oddly she felt as if they wanted her alive. They… craved her for something. Something sinister. She knew she could not let them have it.
She turned to flee, only realize there were more darkspawn behind her. She was surrounded, with nowhere to go as the circle of monsters closed in around her. She grasped sword she carried tighter. But she knew there was no way she could cut her way through all of them, especially as she had never held a proper sword before.
She could not beat them. She could not flee. And she would not let them take her alive. There was only one option. Yet she was afraid to take that option as well. While she had been ashamed to survive, ultimately she had no desire to die, and she had given a promise to bring warning to the Orlesians and her own people. She could not let them down.
As the darkspawn edged ever closer, she stared at the sword in her hands, its sharp edge. Involuntarily she pictured it piecing her. The pain followed by death's cold embrace…
She had to do it. She had to. Whatever they wanted from her, somehow she knew it would be a fate worse than death. Worse than breaking the promise that she had given…
She turned the blade around in her hands, ready to plunge it into her chest. But her hesitation had cost her precious moments. Before she could end her life the closest of the darkspawn rushed over, grabbing her wrists and trying to wrench her hands away from the hilt of her sword. They struggled for a moment before she managed to tear herself free. The darkspawn immediately tried to grab her again, so she instinctively struck with her blade, cutting the creature down. Another came close and she slashed at it too, drawing blood. Then the rest of them converged on her from all directions.
A long while later a darkspawn alpha trod along on the way back to the human castle, the fellow creatures of its warband around it. Briefly it stopped and looked behind itself where the woman in furs was being dragged between two darkspawn. She was limp in their grasp, her face cut and bruised. For now she was conscious, though weak. She had fought hard, killing many of the darkspawn. They had had to break both her arms to finally contain her. Such strength of will to survive. It pleased the alpha that she had it. With that it resumed its journey.
After some more time had passed it stopped again, noting a corpse on the ground. A human, dressed in colorful clothing and shiny metal armor, marred with dried blood from the arrow that had pierced him.
The darkspawn grunted, pleased yet again. The corpse presented an opportunity to do something that would have had to wait otherwise.
The alpha grunted a wordless command to the other darkspawn, who lifted the woman up and planted her on her knees on the ground. Then with a slow, reverent motion the darkspawn drew a dagger from its belt and cut across the palm of its hand, hissing as blood was drawn. Then the creature knelt and cut off a fist sized slab of meat from the dead man and put it in its mouth, chewing. The woman saw this happen and wailed at the sight, shouting something less than friendly sounding. The Alpha cared not.
It wanted to eat, to swallow the meat in its mouth. Instead the alpha spat the meat on its cut hand. It turned its hand over, letting the blood spill out and seep into the chewed up meat.
After that the alpha stepped towards the captive woman. Even exhausted and unable to fight back she was still defiant, spitting on the alpha as it approached. The darkspawn looked down at the splotch of spit on its chest and laughed a deep guttural laugh. Truly this one was strong of will, even in defeat.
The alpha raised a hand to caress the cheek of the woman. She recoiled at its touch and tried to pull away, but the other darkspawn held her firmly. When she saw the fistful of mushy meat laced with blood her eyes widened and resistance only increased. But with both her arms broken and the darkspawn holding her there was nothing she could do.
The alpha nodded to another darkspawn standing nearby, which moved up behind her, grasping her head and forcing her mouth open. The alpha then shoved the mush into her mouth. She reacted instantly, struggling as hard as she could, screaming into the hand clamped over her mouth, trying to spit the stuff out. But all was in vain as the foul concoction was forced down her throat. Meanwhile the surrounding darkspawn were screeching and chanting with excitement, dancing about with glee and waving their weapons.
Once it was done the woman hung her head, having spent what remained of her strength during the horrid episode. She coughed and gagged, trying to make herself vomit, but nothing would come out. The alpha meanwhile grunted out another command and the trek forward resumed.
As they journeyed on the alpha once again glanced at the human woman. The next time would be easier. The corruption was already affected her, spreading from her arm. The food she had been given would only hasten the process. The next time she needed feeding the change would be starting within her. She would start to hear the song, and it would calm her. Then she would give less resistance. Soon enough she would eat willingly.
The human fortress, now overrun, would make an excellent nesting site. It was a safe space and there would be much to feed this one and other captured women given all the fresh corpses and male prisoners.
The woman would survive the transformation, the alpha was certain of it. She would change and grow and be reborn in their image. Then she would make more of them…
Broodmother…