Chapter 12

9:31 Month 10 - Harvestmere, of the Dragon Age, 7 am.

As the sun crept above the city of Denerim, with the clouds of smoke that poured up and around the city, it was hard to tell what time it was, or if it was truly dawn. They hit the city; They hit it hard. A total state of chaos dead littered the streets–human, elf, and darkspawn alike, buildings crumbling under the weight of the onslaught of barraging ogres, and fires that scattered about the city from Emissaries, lighting it with an unholy glow.

The smell of charred flesh and the thick metallic taste of blood filled everyone's nostrils as it covered every nook and cranny of the Blight torn city. Deedolett and her group fought during most of the morning, the darkspawn still came, the reinforcements were helping to thin them out tending to the stragglers that the Blight companions plowed through, tired and weary they fought until a path was clear to the front gates of Fort Drakon.

Leliana slumped against a partly crumbled wall of a former shop that was still intact, "I am tired, so exhausted." She took a thankful drink from her waterskin, passing it to Zevran who sat next to her, also drinking heavily off the skin.

"Yes - we must rest, the soldiers - seemed to clear a path - we should be safe for now." Zevran said between swallows.

Deedolett was feeling dizzy from all the lyrium she drank from the morning's battle as she laid a tired head on Leliana's lap. Wynne was helping other healers in assessing everyone's state. Minor cuts and bumps, nothing major that needed serious attending to.

Alistair sat with his back to a burnt wall, looking amongst his comrades still deep in thought, as they were all exhausted. The city was going to need serious repair if they survived. He looked over to Deedolett as she rested. He regretted his actions during the Landsmeet and hoped that soon she would allow him to apologize for his hasty actions–if the ritual did not fail.

Shale was standing guard along with Sten, who for once took a knee to rest. Morrigan was resting close to Deedolett, and Oghren leaned on Tengu–Olett's faithful mabari while cleaning his ax.

Deedolett shifted from her spot on Leliana's lap with a pained look on her face. "We move in half an hour. It should provide enough time for us to recover. We have to push on towards - the Fort. Riordan and everyone is counting on us." She groaned out as she rubbed her temples, willing the spinning to stop, as all murmured their agreement.

It forced them to take a rest a few hours in with the fighting continuing on in the distance. Continuous reports of the battle being reported to his Majesty, the news of the Alienage causing Alistar to follow behind a few of the soldiers. Olett called for Sten to help her, and the others followed, taking care of the few skirmishes as they headed in the opposite direction from the path to the Fort.

"They trapped a few of the elves, there is an ogre that seemed to burst from the ground!"

Alistair cursed and headed toward the broken gate. They shut it off, and he thought that they would have left with the other's days ago.

Olett looked at Alistair shaking her head. "They never came, did they?" her ears listened over the screaming, she felt sick. The smell alone was nauseating, but the sound of screams, the children, laying dead in the streets, and the Ogre. The Ogre stood looking triumphant, roaring, tipping the Vhenadahl roaring again as it crashed into some homes.

Olett's breathing ragged. She stepped forward. The other week getting people to safety, the flames that lit the Alienage danced to her fingertips. Olett wanted him dead; she wanted him to hurt; aimed her small hands to the emissary that lingered near, a bolt of fire shot through the heart of the Blight twisted Dwarven creature, as he fell dead, Olett shot out a bolt of pure magic covered in flames at the behemoth that came charging at her.

One bolt after the other punctured the discolored skin ricocheting within, ripping at its skin trying to stop the pain, to get it out of its body… But to no avail, Olett had him, concentrating on making the three shots expand and from it incinerated the monster from within.

Terrified gazes, in awe, as they looked to the Warden. Her eyes met the remaining alienage elves. Seeing the batter, broken bodies of men, women, and children. "Help who you can and get out of the city!" she called when she dropped her hand, walking past everyone else and backtracked, heading back towards the Fort as they had originally intended.

The whole outside of the Fort and the path leading to it were crawling with Darkspawn. Deedolett, Leliana, Wynne, and Alistair prayed for a miracle they desperately needed, they pressed forward until they came face to face with two massive Hurlock Generals it was a tough fight, the two Wardens took the brunt of scrapes with the healers helping to keep them safe.

Olett took a chance in casting, not seeing one of the Darkspawn coming towards her, baring down in one swipe she took a deep gash to her thigh falling to the ground she screamed in pain as she lost control of her ice storm spell, not seeing the Shade coming in for the kill. Alistair relieved the demon of his head, pivoting his attention to the Elven magi being looked over.

"Will she be alright?!" His voice colored with concern.

"Yes, Your Majesty!" One of Kinloch Hold's mages said as he addressed her wound.

Olett's eyes flashed an odd color for the briefest moment. Recovering with just a dull throbbing pain, they helped her to her feet, "We need to press on." Her voice sounded a bit off. But none caught it, not even herself.

And pressed on as they did, for as soon as they opened the tall gates of Fort Drakon, more Darkspawn awaited them within, as well as its leader, the Archdemon looming overhead.

Kinloch Hold, Month 10 - Harvestmere, 9:31 of the Dragon Age, 9:38 pm

Kinloch Hold was quiet - more so now that most of the senior and full magi were off headway to Denerim to stop the Blight. Cullen was asleep in his quarters, fitful sleep tossing and turning he woke with a start.

"Not again." He muttered to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow. It was the same dream he kept having after Deedolett came back some months ago, saving their tower home from Uldred's attack. He kept reliving the hate-filled anger he felt and kept seeing the look of hurt in her eyes, for she didn't know what he had endured, nor for how long.

All Cullen prayed for now is that she is safe, and he can apologize properly if he ever gets the opportunity. Shaking his head, shifting to sit on his bedside trying not to disturb a few fellow Templars that also survived, who were sound asleep, he reached over and took out the wooden box she gave to him just before she left the tower with the Grey Warden Duncan.

He lifted the lid, still fascinated by the exotic trinkets inside; ten pieces of a silvery metal coin, a few folded pieces of parchment with beautiful writing penned with metallic ink, several various cuts, and colors of sparkling gems with some assorted jewelry.

He pulled one necklace out, a perfect rose-colored stone the chain was a sight, it was a very light translucent metal light and cool to the touch. He slipped it around his neck, feeling a bit more relieved as he wore it. A sense of peace. Cullen had thought it was a little piece of her with him.

With a clammed sigh, he went to close the lid and from the corner of his eye a bright flash of light shone and dimmed. Strolling to the slit window, Cullen blinked as the light completely subsided. There were six figures hovering over the lake. When the figures started towards the doors from the broken bridge, he panicked.

Fearing the worst, he quickly ran to Knight Commander Greagoir's office. As he passed several of his brothers, his bare feet hitting the stone floor, he skidded to a stop in front of the office, slamming the door open, panicked, out of breath.

It startled Greagoir. His mind was going over paperwork before he turned in for the night. With the sudden intrusion he looked up to see Cullen sweating and flushed, "What is it lad, I am busy and really do not have time…"

Cullen cut him off without trying to sound too harsh. "The la-lake…. s-si-six fig-figures… hovering over the lake… from a flash of light, they are coming this way!" he said, clearly shaken.

Greagoir rose from his desk. Another Templar appeared shortly after in the doorway, now startling Cullen, who settled when he realized who was behind him.

"What is it?" He said, snapping at the person on the other side of the door.

The young Templar entered the room. "Sir. There are elves here looking for First Enchanter Arlen or Knight-Commander Robard." He nodded as he relayed the message.

"Robard, Arlen? Who is looking for him?" Visibly aggravated, Greagoir crossed his arms over his chest.

Gilmore nodded once. "Lady Deedolit Swiftleaf, Ambassador of Felwithe, friend of Theirin and Mac Tir."

The mention of Lady Deedolit was shocking, but to claim friend of Theirin and Mac Tir, suspicious, Greagoir didn't have time to think as he was already coming around his desk, "Both of you come with me, no better yet, you gather some of the other Templars."

"Sir!" Turned to head to the Templar's Quarters.

Leading the way to the Great Hall with Cullen padding-right on his heels.

9:55 pm Month 10 - Harvestmere, 9:31 of the Dragon Age

Atop Fort Drakon, the Archdemon circled above with Senior Warden Riordan on its back; he tore a wing of the beast as it roared careening to the very top of the fort, throwing Riordan off its back. Olett came just as the Warden Commander careened into the spiked barricades.

Olett called after, "Your deaths shall be swift." She growled, "Ecil, we have things to do." Bounding from her pouch, the snow white rabbit ran with lightning speed from one cluster of Darkspawn to the other.

The former training grounds, now frozen, the group charged. The sounds of shattering ice encased monsters lay in chunks from where they stood.

They moved his body to a place that would be safer; they pressed on. Covering all corners of the and darkened halls of the Fort, they fought, Darkspawn that spewed from beneath slaughtered and gaps closed shut, spells quickly being cast to ensure no more stragglers were to reemerge.

Olett called upon her bunny once more, the little creature shifted shape. Surprised even its owner, now the shape of a fox. Rolling on its back receiving a quick pet darted underground. The faint sound and vibrations felt.

"She is closing the tunnels in Denerim."

"How do you know?"

"Ecil told me." The Wardens and their group pressed on.

Sounds of swords cutting into the rotting flesh, garbles, screams as it set them on fire, clanking metal beating against each other, rang in their ears as they advanced deeper in the Fort. The upper floor seemed quiet, the smell of decay with the familiar scent of tainted blood hitting the Elven Warden's nostrils.

"Do you smell that? Do you hear that!" Olett tilted her head, filtering out the sounds that echoed from behind them. There was no sound on this floor, the only thing out of place. The thick coating of black blood led the way to the exit.

The Darkspawn lay dead, pieces oozing black slick, the sound of their steps sticky caused some groaning while Olett gagged in remembrance.

The group examined the bodies as they went past, poking at one who expelled its last breath. Olett thought she's seen enough wonders until she caught sight of Sandal, son of the Dwarven merchant Bodahn Feddic who, Olett, Alistair, and Morrigan helped when they first arrived in Lothering, on their journey to raise the army for this day, amongst the felled corpses of darkspawn, looking very proud of himself covered in blood.

Alistair and Olett looked wide-eyed at the boy as darkspawn corpses lay at his feet, "Sandal, are you well?" Olett asked, stepping over the bodies, leaning on her staff for support.

"Enchantment!" He smiled proudly. Olett was weary, but returned a smile.

"Thank you. Go to your father now. Surely he worried about you." Deedolett closed her eyes for a moment, turning to the others with a nod, heading to the stairs that were their eventual stop.

Sandal tugged the elf mage's robe, holding a skin, "Sandal I have no money for trade." Her face felt hot. She didn't know what would happen now if she stepped through that door, and here Sandal was vigilant as ever offering to trade.

The Dwarf pressed the skin into her hand and passed out the others he had with him, turning to leave back out of the Fort. Olett clutched the skin in her hand tightly. Tears trickled from her eyes. "Thank you." She whispered, taking a small drink. Tucking it in her robe.

Loghain approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "We are with you." He opened the door, letting in the fiery glow of the night's sky.

With more darkspawn greeting them, snapping, snarling, and growling, cutting down and being cut down by soldiers, who attempted to lessen the burden that was to face their King and Warden Deedolett. Arl Eamon, right by their side in the fray, was there as well as First Enchanter Irving with mages from the Circle Tower.

Dalish came from their places in the great wood, the Dwarven King Bailen brought to an army of his own, weapon smiths, guards, commoners and nobility. All who gave their word came to the Warden's aide.

So many people she came across for this moment stood by her side, her friends, the army she helped gather from the time she woke in the Kocari Wilds hut of Flemeth, and her daughter Morrigan, stood side by side in the beast's face.

Murmured prayers came from several as they charged forth, battle cries came from all directions, bodies from both sides lay everywhere - it was going to be an endless night.

Fort Drakon, Ferelden, Battle with the Archdemon, 11:10 pm

{BOOM} was the sound the dragon made as it came crashing to the ground as it tried to land on top of Deedolett; Alistair tackled her to the ground, covering her head before he rose to continue his onslaught.

The Elven mage scrambled to her feet, she tripped on the hem of her robe, sliding on a long grease trail from a fell barrel crashing headlong into oncoming darkspawn, causing them to stumble back, scattered one on top of another.

She grinned then grimaced holding her side as she stood, the sound of metal clanking on the ground alerted the others, Olett raised her hand, twenty blades flew into the air above her collecting from various spots near her, bringing her hand down pinning, and injuring them as they tried to dodge out of the way.

Just as quickly her rabbit hopped from its pouch on Olett's hip, it then bounded quickly around to freeze the Maker less sods as they froze solid in place, followed by the heavy pounding of her charging Mabari colliding with them shattering them to chunks of ice and blood.

She heard a roar. Behind her, the Archdemon spewed a hellish flame of black and purple. It called raining fire to keep itself alive and the attackers at bay. Morrigan and Deedolett froze it in place for a time as it tried to flee to the air. The others were killing darkspawn at various points on the roof of the Fort, Wynne, and several other Magi concentrated on healing.

As spells flew from all directions, soon darkspawn numbers showed signs of dwindling; the Archdemon was alone focusing attacks upon the monster Deedolett took to the ballista that could surely concentrate more damage.

"Morrigan, Wynne enchant the archers to slow it down… ice!" she shouted as she stripped herself of her wet outer robe and ran, leaping over bodies to the ballista. "Sten, help me!" she shouted to the Qunari Warrior. He cut down darkspawn as he made his way to Olett.

He used his strength to push and aimed the ballista towards the dragons' chest. "Do not stop firing, we have to weaken it." She was hoarse and tired as she called orders to the others who were loading, who nodded affirmatively.

She moved in closer between the ballista and the dragon she raised her hands above her head, heat waves formed around her fingers a small gathering of cloud sent tiny arches of lightning to her fingertips, hearing the loud creaking of wood and metal releasing, time seemed to slow, she looked up releasing the gathered energy of lightning type flames that surrounded the large wooden bolt. That weakened further the soft scales on its breast.

Oghren rushed with his ax in hand, swinging wildly, cutting at the hind legs, causing a series of small tears to the decayed flesh, exposing muscle tissue.

Zevran pierced the back of its legs, applying poisons to weaken it more; It knocked him out of the way by a hard kick Zevran slid, lying unconscious into the turret of the fort. Loghain covered Zevran's previous position, cursing his retirement from the bow, and fired volleys of arrows, ripping the beast's wings.

"Keep firing!" She croaked. Leliana aimed for its wings to tear the skin so it would not try to take wings out of their mage's range.

{THWANG} the sound of the ballista as it shot through the air, shredding the demon's left-wing joint, breaking it at its wing. The Archdemon let out an ear-piercing roar as it thrashed about, whipping its head to spew more flames in the attacker's direction. The older mage Wynne was some feet away when Zevran went down; she was already heading to him to tend his wounds.

{THWANG} another pierced along the spine of the dragon, exposing the flesh beneath. They weakened it sure enough; it was staggering, head hanging low as it swayed from the pain. They slowed him. Several fighters shot ropes tied to the ballista that pierced through its scales, holding him in place.

Alistair saw his moment. He and Shale were moving the injured out of the fray as fast as they could. It was now or never he headed for a long sword that was going to end the miserable demon's life once and for all. Deedolett, seeing this, took off from the other direction. They reached for the sword, each with a hand on the hilt.

Alistair covered in blood yanked the sword from the Magi "No, I refuse to let you do this I saw the look in your eyes, I must do this." he shouted shaking his head tears filled his eyes, all the horrible and hard to swallow thoughts he had from the night before, he was certain the ritual was a ruse. He can leave the Kingdom to the former Queen he had locked up within the castle.

Deedolett stepped back shaking her head, putting some distance between them, raised her hand to his face, her rabbit coating his feet in a thick layer of ice, he released the sword-swinging trying to stop the rabbit, frozen to his waist, creeping up faster but it was too late. His ears and face covered.

"Ferelden needs her King." She said as she summoned a long sword. Its blade danced with runes.

Gripping the sword with a hand tightly around the hilt, she ran, dragging the sword as it created sparks along the stone roof; she wished to gain more speed by closing the gap between her and the dragon. The ones nearest looked to her as they all swore they say her fly on nearly translucent wings. Olett held tight to the sword. Raising it above her head, she plunged the sword in, twisting her body; she dragged the blade from its chest to its tail, spilling its contents on the stone below.

With another eardrum-shattering roar, the dragon raised upon its hind legs as it jerked from shock with a bolt of lightning and flame aimed at its exposed portion of its back it fell with a sickening thud as it lay twitching trying to lift its once beautiful head. Deedolett floated to the front of the felled beast.

She looked it in the eye, raised the sword high above her head, throwing it down like a javelin, and impaled the Blight leader in the skull. Pointing an elegant finger at the sword, the beast twitched wildly as a thin flame shot from her finger, lighting the sword and cooking the archdemon from within.

12:01 am, Fort Drakon, Denerim, Month 11 - Firstfall 9:31 of the Dragon Age.

Thunder sounded as the winds shifted as clouds swirled overhead, the sky lit briefly, then a sudden column of light pierced through the clouds, striking where the Archdemon lay dead, catching the elf unaware. Encased in the light, she could not move. She felt as if her body were on fire. She screamed as her body grew hotter, convulsed in searing waves of pain.

Losing concentration on the spell shortly after being hit, they could hear Alistair screaming after her from when she froze him, as a few of their companions went to approach to free her. Halted as the light pulsed, hindering any form of rescue. Olett screams increased. She raised further into the air, her head thrown back, body limp, the violent screaming that continued to be uttered from her hurt by those who looked on.

With each pulse of light, her screams grew more agonizing and without warning a shockwave threw the living and dead about like rag dolls, the reverb nauseated several when they came to shortly after. The group sat up slowly, some holding their heads and others their stomachs. Everyone was well enough to examine the situation.

The Archdemon lay charred as trails of smoke danced into the winds, unmoving. The Fifth Blight had ended.

Shale was helping Wynne and Zevran to stand. Leliana checked on the Arl and First Enchanter. Oghren kicked the demon's tail for good measure, Alistair stumbled as he ran to the dead heap of dragon searching frantically for Deedolett, swinging around spotted her, she was unconscious, cradled in Sten's arms, as he propped up against parapet he uncovered her head, he caught her as she was blown back.

"No…. No... No no no no no, please no!" he shook his head as he approached Sten, Sten just looked at the still form of the girl in his arms and just stared.

Alistair put the back of his hand to her forehead. She was cold. He felt no pulse. "WYNNE!" he shouted, panic-stricken. "WYNNE!"

The senior magi came as quickly as she could, "Sten please lower her gently." The Qunari did as instructed and Wynne worked her magic, assessing if she was in fact comatose.

The others gathered around, watching helplessly as the healer waved her hands over their leader. First Enchanter Irving watched in horror as she lay. Several minutes had passed and Leliana was in tears as she watched, dropping to her knees, praying reverently, trying to will her friend to consciousness. Zevran placed a hand on Alistair's shoulder as the two watched the lady they admired lay motionless.

Wynne grew weary and ceased her casting; she wiped her brow then placed a hand on Deedolett's forehead. "I am unsure, her pulse is faint, she may not wake soon."

"Sten, please carry her back to the palace, we have to hurry." The older woman solemnly announced. They helped the mage to stand. Alistair called for the soldiers who could walk and stand to move the others; injured or deceased. Tomorrow they will start the rebuilding and cleanup process.