AN: Here is chapter 5 everyone. Again, please follow, favorite, and review! I do not own Dragon Age.
Chapter 5
The Korcari Wilds
On shaking legs, Guin crossed the bridge into Ostagar. Ares walked beside her, eyes watching, scanning for any sign of a threat. He'd taken her mother's words to heart it seemed. The hound hadn't let her out of his sight, not that Guin minded.
The sun was getting low, but had not yet touched the horizon. There was still at least another hour before dusk, but the sky was beginning to be painted in vibrant oranges and reds. Guin used to love sunsets, but now the colors reminded her of Highever burning. So, she kept her gaze on the stones in front of her, continuing to put one foot in front of the other.
"Ho, there!" a soldier called once she'd gotten a good distance across the bridge. "Where do you hail from?"
"Highever. I have come to find my brother, Fergus Cousland. I also wish to seek an audience with the King," Guin answered. When she mentioned her family's name, the soldier straightened his spine, surprise etched into his features. She understood the surprise, she didn't look very lady like. She had traveled several days through the wilderness without much washing. Her hair was a tangled mess, the strands not knotted in the braid were matted with dirt and sweat and stuck to her neck and face. Her usually milky skin was covered in a layer of dirt and grime. She probably smelled like the wrong end of a horse to boot. "Please, ser, this is urgent."
He frowned at her, but eventually nodded and led her inside the ruin. "The king's tent is back that way, past the mages and the healers," he said, pointing past several colorful tents and up a ramp. "Good luck getting an audience with him… my Lady."
Guin nodded and began to make her way into the camp. As she passed the mages, however, a familiar, deep voice caused her head to whip around. Duncan, the Warden Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens, stood conversing with a mage. She was floored. He'd made it out of Highever! "Duncan?!" she gasped, still not quite believing what she was seeing.
The swarthy man turned quickly at the sound of his name, eyes falling to her immediately and widening in surprise. He said something very quickly to the mage before jogging over to her. "My Lady!" he exclaimed, amazement and joy evident in his tone. "I thought you were dead!" He paused before saying somberly, "I am truly sorry about your parents, my Lady. I had helped your father get to the larder and he sent me on a search to find you and your mother. When I returned… Again, I am so sorry."
Tears gathered in Guin's eyes and blurred her vision but she refused to let them fall. Gathering all her will power, she shoved it all back so she could speak. "I came to look for my brother. I am afraid for his safety and he needs to know what happened."
"And I assume you would like to speak to the king? I have told him what all has happened, but I believe he would be relieved to know you survived. I could take you to him if you like," Duncan offered, turning in the direction Guin had originally been headed.
"Yes! I would really like to speak with him. Thank you so much, Duncan," she replied earnestly and together they set off for the King's tent.
It didn't take them very long to reach it, and Guin could tell it was the royal tent from a long ways off. It was huge, for starters, and bore the colors of the Theirin house of red and gold. They were stopped a few paces away from the opening by a royal guard, wearing full steel plated armor. "What's your business with the King?" he demanded as he held up a hand to them.
"This is Lady Guinevere Cousland, here to speak to the King about the atrocities that happened to her family and people at Highever," Duncan answered quickly, his voice elevated so anyone inside the tent to could hear him.
There was a commotion inside, like something was dropped on the ground before footsteps thudded their way to the tent flap. In the opening appeared the blond head of King Cailan, golden armor gleaming in the sunlight. His blue eyes fell on her and widened, a smile appearing on his lips. "Lady Cousland! I can scarce believe it!" He waved them inside his tent, with a 'come in!' So, Duncan and Guin followed the King inside, the latter giving a quick order to her mabari to stay outside.
It was cozy inside the tent, with a table overflowing with fruits and vegetables, a cot in the corner covered with linens, furs, and pillows as well as a lounge chair adjacent to it, piled with pillows. Furs and rugs lined the ground and candles were lit along the tent. It must have been a lot of work to cart all this from Denerim and set it up here.
Cailan turned back to them, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and offering it to Guin. "Duncan told me what happened to your family. I am deeply sorry for you and I want you to know that as soon as this mess with the darkspawn is over, I will be delivering the King's Justice to Arl Howe."
Guin nodded in thanks, taking the apple with a very small smile. "Thank you, Your Grace. That is definitely good to hear. But, I am worried about my brother, Fergus. He does not know what happened and I'm afraid Howe may have sent spies or assassins to harm him."
Cailan frowned, "Your brother is out on patrol with the Highever forces. I'm afraid he won't be back for some time."
Now Guin frowned, looking down at the apple in her hands. She had been so hoping to see her brother, to share her grief. On the other hand, she was slightly relieved she didn't have to tell him about his wife and child just yet. She still hadn't figured out how to say the words.
Cailan stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "How about this; you stay and get washed up, fed, and rested. I'm sure you're tired after your journey here and you can use my tub if you like. I'll have my servants set it up for you," he offered. Then he looked at Duncan questioningly before saying, "Afterwards, I'm sure Duncan will allow you to stay with the Grey Wardens at their camp to wait until your brother returns. They have a very good view of the gates that lead to the wilds."
"That sounds like an excellent idea, Your Grace," Duncan replied, evenly.
Guin looked up at the both of them, gratitude making her heart swell. "Thank you, both of you, for your hospitality." She turned to Cailan and said, "I would be very glad to take you up on your generous offer. However, I'm not sure I could sleep until I see my brother. After I get cleaned up, I will join the wardens at their camp."
"Of course, my Lady. I'll tell my servants at once to start heating up some water and have you brought some dinner while you wait," he said with a small smile. It disappeared with his next sentence, said with a sigh, "meanwhile, I'll be meeting with Loghain to discuss more strategy for the upcoming battle."
"I will return in an hour, my Lady, to escort you to our camp," Duncan said, and with a small bow to Cailan, he left the tent.
Cailan gave her a small smile before following the Warden Commander out. True to his word, a hot bowl of beef stew with a small loaf of bread was brought to the tent not five minutes later, along with a big copper tub. The elves that brought it quickly started heating water outside and bringing it in, filling the tub as quickly as they could. Meanwhile, Guin sat down to dig into her meal, finally feeling like she could relax for the first time in days.
They hadn't been in the Korcari Wilds for ten minutes before they were attacked. By no less than seven wolves, to be exact. Thankfully, Braden didn't have to get too close to kill them. He stayed back with Daveth, using long range attacks while Alistair, Jory, and Nuala got up close and personal. Even so, Braden had to admit he felt a kind of savage glee to finally be let off his figurative leash. Before, he had felt the watchful eyes of the Templars and older mages as he cast, and now? He was free to put as much power into his attacks as he could manage, unleashing his magic with the full force of freedom. This felt almost as wonderful as the first time he managed to escape the Tower.
Nuala displayed a similar savagery in her attacks. He had been surprised by her battle prowess and ferocity earlier. And for the first time, he saw a glimmer of actual enjoyment in her eyes when she was fighting those wolves. Maybe there was hope for her yet.
Once the wolves were dead, they moved on, though Nuala did stop at the edge of the swamp where a large white flower with a red center bloomed. She said something about the kennels but Braden wasn't really paying attention.
Daveth and Jory kept relatively quiet – surprisingly – as they moved forward, only grumbling about the cold, scary wilds every few minutes rather than every second. Those two were both pretty easy to figure out. As soon as he met them, he knew what kind of people they were. Daveth was a lady's man with barely a modicum of courage in his body. He was terrified of magic, sure the wilds held deadly witches that would turn him into a frog. He was steadfast in becoming a Warden, however, whatever that may mean. Jory, on the other hand, was a complete coward and Braden didn't understand how that man had become a knight of Redcliffe. He complained about all he had to do to prove himself to Duncan, he complained about fighting darkspawn, and he complained about the wilds. It was driving Braden nuts, to be honest.
Alistair hadn't been around enough for Braden to form an opinion of him besides dislike for being a Templar, even if he hadn't taken vows or been part of the order. And of course, there was the fact that the man was stupidly good-looking. Usually, Braden was the best-looking guy around, but Alistair had this tanned, chiseled, out-doors-y quality that would surely turn the eyes of all the action Braden was hoping to find. But, the man was a Grey Warden, and Braden figured he'd be a 'brother' once he joined them.
Suddenly, Alistair halted his steps in the middle of the path, kneeling in the dirt. In front of him lay an injured man, who looked as if he'd crawled his way toward them.
"My unit was attacked by darkspawn! They popped up out of the ground, killed everyone!" the soldier grunted, voice showing just how much pain he was in.
"He needs to get back to camp, he won't make it if he stays out here," Nuala said, kneeling next to Alistair and the injured soldier.
"I can make it if… my injuries…" the soldier groaned.
"I think I have some bandages in my pack," Alistair offered, fishing them out and helping the soldier apply them where he needed them. Soon, the man made it to his feet and stumbled down the path towards the gate to Ostagar with a mumbled 'thank you.'
"Did you hear that? Darkspawn took out a whole unit of seasoned warriors!" Jory exclaimed, voice going up in pitch with his fear. Braden rolled his eyes and he heard Nuala scoff. Apparently, she didn't think much of their new companion either.
"Don't worry, there are darkspawn about but we're in no danger of running into the horde," Alistair replied patiently.
"How do you know that?" Jory demanded, voice still a little pitchy.
Now Alistair sighed, frowning. "I can sense them. They won't surprise us like they did that unit."
"You see sir knight? We may die, but at least we'll be warned about it first!" Daveth replied with aplomb.
Jory frowned, noticing he was the only one voicing his fear. "That is…comforting," he finished, that last word added reluctantly.
"Can we just keep moving? We have tasks to complete, and we won't want to be stuck out here after dark, so we need to get back to camp before the sun goes down," Nuala growled, arms folding across her armored chest.
"Right," Alistair replied before turning and continuing down the path.
It wasn't long before they came upon a spot where the path passed between two tall, steep hills. A tree had fallen over, it looked like years ago now, and spanned the width of the gap between the hills. Hanging from the dead tree were three dead mean, all mangled and deformed. Braden frowned, looking at them, thinking of the demons he had come across while in the fade during his harrowing.
"Well that's just excessive," Alistair muttered, looking up at the men sympathetically.
"Why even do this?" Nuala asked, eyeing the bodies, quite obviously disturbed. "Darkspawn are mindless normally, they wouldn't think to display bodies this way."
"During a true Blight, the darkspawn are more organized and appear to have more thought. That's because there is an archdemon behind them, leading them," Alistair answered, still frowning at the bodies.
"Can we please keep going? This is giving me the creeps," Daveth muttered, watching the bodies as if they would come alive and try to harm them. Braden rolled his eyes at the former thief as Alistair nodded and continued under the fallen tree, having care to dodge the dangling legs of the hanging men.
They walked in silence for several minutes, all of them watching their surroundings with wary eyes. Braden did not want to be caught off guard in this forest. It felt dark, and maybe even a little ill, like it was being poisoned. Which made sense, blights were notorious for poisoning the land they consumed.
"Darkspawn!" Alistair growled suddenly, making Braden jump. He ran off not even a second later, shield and sword in each hand, followed shortly by Nuala with her own blade and shield extended. Braden removed his staff, running after them, not looking to see if Jory and Daveth did the same. He could see Alistair and Nuala engage several creatures up ahead, weapons clashing. The darkspawn were horrific, hideous monsters. Their skin was grey and green, dead or decaying, and looked like it had been peeled off and sewn back together. Sharp, yellow teeth glinted from beneath thin, cracked lips. Their eyes gleamed with bloodlust, mad smiles curling their lips.
Braden almost stopped right in his tracks when he got close enough to smell them – not that he meant to smell them. The odor of death clung to them like a nocuous cloud. But he didn't stop; he pulled himself together and shot a fireball spell at a tall darkspawn who had lifted an axe preparing to strike Nuala's back. It burst into flame with a shriek, dropping the axe and stumbling away from the field before it collapsed on the ground, quiet. Nuala gave him a quick nod of thanks after decapitating the short darkspawn she'd been fighting.
Daveth's arrows soon joined the fray, followed by Jory and his greatsword. Better late than never, Braden thought, shooting various lightning and fireball spells at the darkspawn. It didn't take long after they joined the battle that the last of the monsters fell. Once all the creatures were down, Alistair went to several, filling up the four vials he'd been given by Duncan with the tainted blood.
"Alright, that's one task done," Nuala stated, wiping her blade off in the grass. "Where are we supposed to go for the treaties?"
"Are we not going to talk about those monsters?!" Jory squeaked, wide eyes glued to the still forms of the darkspawn littering the ground.
"What's there to talk about? They're dead, and we have work to do," Nuala replied, rolling her eyes and sheathing her sword.
Alistair sighed. "The short ones are called genlocks and the tall ones are called hurlocks. Darkspawn mages are called emissaries and are generally more intelligent than genlocks and hurlocks." He paused in his explanation, studying the large Redcliffe knight. "I'm sure you've heard of their origins, so there's not much more to know other than be careful of their blood."
"There, explanation is done, can we continue?" Nuala asked impatiently, arms folded across her chest. Jory and Daveth had no objections, though Jory was still wide-eyed. Alistair frowned slightly at the dwarf but lead the group deeper into the wilds without saying anything. This surprised Braden. Most of the Templars he knew would not dare let their leadership get challenged like that. No one mouthed off to Templars, at least Braden didn't anyway. They would have put the offender in his or her place before doing anything else. But Alistair had let it go with only a small frown? That was new.
About twenty minutes later – and thankfully darkspawn free – they reached a hill. On top of said hill stood the skeletal remains of a white, stone tower. Alistair stopped short, eyes roaming the hillside, obviously looking for something.
Nuala came up next to him, eyeing him before studying the hillside as well. "Darkspawn?"
"Yes," he replied, but his frown deepened into a scowl. "They have an emissary."
"How do you know that?" Jory asked, squinting at the hill and not seeing anything.
Braden frowned. "He told us he trained to be a Templar. Templars can sense magic." Jory uttered a small 'oh' and Nuala rolled her eyes.
Alistair ignored all of this, saying "I'll go after the emissary first, you four go after the rest. I'll join you once the emissary is dispatched." Nuala nodded, readying her sword and shield. Braden followed her lead, removing his staff from his back and clenching it in his hands. "Alright, let's move," Alistair said, moving up the hill.
As they got closer to the ruined tower, the more darkspawn seemed to appear. Nuala charged forward, sword slicing at a Hurlock. Braden followed the dwarf's lead, shooting fireball spells left and right. Daveth's bow appeared in his hands and he began to pick off darkspawn alongside Braden. Bulky Jory was slow to respond, but finally made his way to the thick of the battle, two-handed sword slicing the air with a dangerous woosh. Alistair managed to pick his way through the battle, finding the emissary with the ease of a practiced Templar. Braden could feel the smite he was building and was immensely glad not to be on the receiving end of it.
Most of the darkspawn were felled quickly, but some took a little bit of effort, especially the emissary. Even though Alistair had smited the blasted thing, he was not able to get close enough to do any other kind of damage. Nuala was currently engaging in a deadly duel with another Hurlock. She was agile for a dwarf – though Braden didn't know many dwarves, none besides Nuala actually – so she was able to dance around her larger opponent and deal damage. Daveth took out a genlock with a well-placed shot before helping Jory with a Hurlock. So, Braden moved closer to the duel between the darkspawn mage and the former Templar, hoping to assist in dispatching the monster, even though he was sure he would be rebuffed. Templars notoriously did not trust mages, and to fight alongside one? Forget it.
Alistair glanced over for a fraction of a second as Braden approached, eyes questioning as the mage moved to assist. The Templar seemed to realize quickly what Braden intended and worked to give him room to help. He didn't allow himself a moment to be surprised at Alistair's reaction, but began to fire spells while the Templar alternated using his sword and his abilities. It took a few seconds for Braden and Alistair to find a rhythm of fighting that worked, but eventually they were able to click as a team and took the emissary down quickly.
Once the monster breathed its last, Alistair turned to Braden with a smile. "Thanks," he said, but Braden had absolutely no idea how to respond aside from a small nod. Trust and gratitude toward a mage, from a Templar? These concepts were foreign to the circle mage, who'd grown up being told his magic was a curse, that if he stepped out of line, he'd be killed or worse, made tranquil. No Templar had ever given him a chance like this.
Alistair had started to clean his blade off in the grass when Nuala approached, her own blade stained with the darkspawn ichor. "The treaties are inside, right? What are we standing around for?"
"You just finished killing a ton of hell spawn, why not take a few seconds to breathe?" Braden remarked, growing tired of her impatience. Besides, Jory was still trying to wipe his blade clean and Daveth was collecting his arrows. As a group, they weren't ready to move on.
The dwarf glowered at him, mouth opening to respond when Alistair said, "alright, that's enough. We don't need to be at each other's throats when we have plenty of enemies in these wilds." He turned away from them, toward the ruined tower. Nuala sent another glare at Braden before following the warden inside. The mage simply rolled his eyes after her and trailed behind, Daveth and Jory taking up the rear. "Ok, the treaties are here in a chest somewhere. Everyone spread out and look for them."
The group fanned out within the ruins, searching for something that could possibly hold the treaties. Braden wandered off toward a large, crumbling, stone staircase, eyes scanning the ground for anything – shards of wood from a chest, pieces of vellum, maybe even the wax seal that could have been used. After several minutes of searching with no reward, he was about to give up when he saw it. It was an old, decaying, wood chest that was overgrown with ivy and weeds. Braden took off toward it, shouting, "I've found something!"
Nuala was the first to reach him, Alistair hot on her heels. "What is it?" the Templar asked breathlessly, as Braden knelt in the dirt in front of the aged wooden chest.
"It's a chest," the mage answered, tearing weeds and ivy away to get into the inside of the rotted wood.
"Are they in there?!" Daveth exclaimed, coming up behind Nuala and Alistair with Jory at his side, watching Braden clear out the chest. But there was nothing inside. Braden looked up at them frowning, confused and quite annoyed with the new circumstances. There were no treaties here. No way to make sure the wardens had aid against the blight. Now what?
"Well, well, what have we here?" a voice uttered above them. Surprise had each of them leaping back from the stairs, spines straightening, and reaching for weapons, eyeing the newcomer warily. Well, everyone else was eyeing the beautiful, mysterious woman slowly descending the stairs warily. Braden couldn't help but let his jaw drop slightly, mouth going dry. Her kohl smudged golden eyes studied each of them with sharp intelligence. Full, deep red lips curved slightly in a smirk. Her raven black hair contrasted with her pale skin and was pulled back in a messy knot, showing off a long, slender neck and delicate shoulders. A blouse – or strategically placed drapings of burgundy cloth – hung from her shoulders and was held in place by beaded leather cords. Her breasts peaked out from behind the cloth teasingly. Her right arm was adorned with leather bands and a glove while her left arm was covered from palm to shoulder in a black leather sleeve with raven feathers decorating her left shoulder. A black skirt made of various animal skins hung low on her hips and black leather boots completed the ensemble. On her back was strapped a weathered, knotted staff. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?" her voice was low and sultry and Braden found himself mesmerized by it.
By now she had reached the bottom of the ancient stairs, standing before them and studying them intently. When her eyes landed on him, he could feel his stomach flip. She looked with disdain on his robes before eyeing someone else. "Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" She cocked her hip to the right, arms folding across her chest and asked, "What say you, hmmm? Scavenger or intruder?"
Braden found he couldn't reply since he was quite distracted by the beauty standing confidently before them. Nuala stepped forward when no one else did and stated, "we are Grey Wardens and this tower used to belong to our order."
"'Tis a tower no longer, the wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse," the woman replied easily, thin eyebrow rising as if in challenge. Then she began to move again, hips swaying side to side as she began to circle them like prey, saying, "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?'" She stopped at a crumbled exterior wall, back turned to them for a moment. She spun back to them, continuing, "And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"
Alistair moved closer to Nuala, eyes locked on the witch distrustfully. That was a look Braden was familiar with and he scowled seeing it again. "Don't answer her, she looks Chasind and there could be others nearby," he said, voice low.
The woman scowled at the Templar, golden eyes flashing with anger. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she growled sarcastically, hands flying into the air.
Alistair glared back at her, replying, "yes. Swooping is… bad." Was that really all he could come up with? But… he didn't have to worry about Alistair turning the eyes of all the fair ladies. At least not this one, and Braden found he simply couldn't take his eyes off her.
"She's a witch of the wilds, she is! She'll turn us into toads!" Daveth finally chimed in, voice shaky and high pitched with fear.
The woman rolled her eyes at the statement, hands landing on her hips, and said, "Witch of the Wilds. Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" Her eyes locked with Nuala's, head cocking to the side just slightly. "And what of you? Women do not frighten like boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."
"My name is Nuala Aeducan," Nuala answered, armored arms folding across her chest.
"And mine is Morrigan," the witch replied.
"And I'm Braden!" Braden blurted, but immediately regretted uttering a single syllable. Morrigan turned her golden gaze on him, frowning before she once again looked at Nuala. Maker, he felt like a fool.
The witch crossed her arms across her chest again, ignoring everyone but Nuala. "Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something that was in that chest, something that is here no longer?"
"'Here no longer?' You stole them, didn't you?! You're some kind of… sneaky… witch thief!" Alistair accused, and Braden found himself feeling a little bit better about his previous faux pas. The former Templar was making a bigger fool of himself than Braden had managed.
A small smirk curved her lips upward, amusement dancing in her eyes. "How very eloquent. I wonder, how does one steal from dead men?"
"Quite easily it seems. Those documents are grey warden property and I suggest you return them," Alistair demanded, arms folding across his chest.
"I will not, for it was not I who removed them," Morrigan replied, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. "Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer, if you wish. I am not threatened."
Dammit. They needed those treaties. If Morrigan didn't take them, then maybe she knows who did? After all, she claimed these wilds were hers now, surely, she knows something of the goings on. "Then who removed them?" Braden asked.
Morrigan eyed him once again, gaze no longer annoyed but thoughtful. "'Twas my mother, in fact," she answered with a small exhalation.
Yes! "Can you take us to her?" Braden asked. Daveth and Alistair made noises of protest, but Nuala rose a hand.
"We need those treaties and if her mother has them, then we must go retrieve them," Nuala stated simply.
"That is quite a sensible request. I'm glad some of you can use your wits," Morrigan replied, and Braden smiled slightly at the praise. It wouldn't do to show just how happy he was at the attention.
"She'll throw us all in a pot, she will! Just you watch!" Daveth exclaimed.
"At least it would be warmer than these cursed wilds!" Jory replied, annoyed. Braden looked at the man, surprised. That was the first time the knight hadn't taken the opportunity to cower.
Morrigan rolled her eyes at the exchange, turning away and heading into the wilds. "Follow me then, if it pleases you," she called over her shoulder. Nuala hurried to comply, obviously not wanting to lose their guide in the shadows of the trees. Braden was right behind her, not willing to lose the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Alistair trudged behind Nuala and Braden as they followed the witch thief, scowling. He did not trust that woman. She appeared out of nowhere, claiming she'd been following them the whole time – creepy – and then guessed at exactly what they were looking for – super creepy. Something was up, and while Alistair knew they needed those treaties, he didn't think he could have made the decision to follow the strange wild woman farther into the wilds to go get them. He didn't think he was much of a leader and big decisions like that were best left up to someone else.
The ground started to slope down and Alistair looked up and past Morrigan. Ahead of them was a small, dilapidated hut standing in the middle of a swamp and held together by what looked like sheer will power. Smoke wafted lazily into the air from both the chimney and from the campfire in front of the abode. Standing near the fire was an old woman, her gray hair falling about her face in haphazard strands. The clothes she wore were homespun and dirty.
"Greetings, mother! I bring before you five grey wardens who—" Morrigan called.
"I see them, girl," the old lady stated, interrupting her daughter. She regarded them with the same golden eyes that Morrigan possessed. They gave Alistair the creeps. "Much as I expected," she said after studying them each in turn, eyes lingering on Nuala, Braden, and Alistair. Her brow furrowed, searching the other two faces but not seeing what she expected. "You're missing one of your number."
Ok, so she was creepy and crazy. That was always a wonderful mix. "Uh, no, we're not," Alistair replied. "And are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"
The woman eyed him coolly, saying, "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! We shouldn't be talking to her!" Daveth hissed at them.
"If you say that one more time, I swear to the Maker, I'll turn you into a toad, myself," Braden growled at him. Daveth went green in response, but he snapped his mouth shut.
"Besides, if she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Jory admonished.
"There's a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things," the woman stated with a small shrug. Now what the hell did that mean? Was her being a witch irrelevant? Or was Jory? "And what of you?" she asked, eyes landing on Nuala and Braden once again. "Do either of you have a different viewpoint? Do you believe as they do?"
Nuala and Braden looked to each other, both sporting mildly confused looks on their faces. "I'm not sure what to believe," Nuala replied finally, looking back at the witches.
Braden took longer to answer, pondering the question. "I believe you know more than you're letting on," he said finally. The old woman seemed genuinely surprised by the answer, a smile curling her lips.
"Be always aware," she said and paused, a thoughtful expression crossing her wizened features. "Or is it oblivious? I can never remember." She paused to study them again and Alistair was feeling this woman was only crazier than she let on. "So much about you is uncertain, and yet, I believe… Do I? Why yes, it seems I do."
"So… this is a dreaded witch of the wilds," he said quietly. Honestly, he wasn't all that impressed. He didn't sense much magic coming from her and her brain seemed too addled to even cause damage properly.
The old woman smiled, "witch of the wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she'd never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" She finished with a laugh.
Morrigan had put her face in her hands in embarrassment. She sighed and looked back at her mother, saying, "they did not come to hear your wild tales, mother."
"True, they came for their treaties," the woman stated. Her eyes snapped to stare hard at Alistair. "And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these." As she said this, she pulled three rolled scrolls of vellum out of a pocket in her dress.
"You—" Alistair started, ready to start barking as she put it, but then he realized what she said. "Oh, you protected them?" he asked.
She frowned, "and why not? Take these to your grey wardens and tell them this Blight is a bigger threat than they realize." Wait, what? How would the wardens not know how big a threat the Blight is? They've been fighting them since the first!
Braden looked mildly alarmed as he asked, "what do you mean it's bigger than they realize?"
The woman shrugged, "either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing!" She paused before she continued with a laugh, "or perhaps they realize nothing!"
Nuala shuffled her feet before she said, "well, we have what we came for. If we stay much longer, it would be too dark to see our way."
"Time for you to go, then," Morrigan said, not sounding the least bit sad. Alistair wasn't sad to leave either, ready for the warden campfire and a hot bowl of stew with a nice chunk of cheese.
The old woman turned to her daughter, frowning slightly. "Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests."
Morrigan frowned back at her mother and eventually said with a sigh, "very well, I will lead you out of the wilds. Follow me."
Alistair sighed, very ready to be away from the old crone, and followed Morrigan back up the hill. Nuala was right, however. The sky had turned a brilliant shade of red and was quickly darkening to purple as the sun sunk below the horizon. The first stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky.