A/N: Sorry this is a day late. I will post Destiny's next chapter tomorrow. Next week I'll hopefully be on my usual schedule.

Enjoy!

Something was wrong in Redcliffe.

Nike could feel it as they crossed the last few miles to the village mid-afternoon. At first, she thought the twinges in her stomach were warnings of darkspawn nearby, but the sensation was not the same. Soon silence fell over the entire group, even Leliana's caged crows, and she knew that something was very wrong.

Tahja had taken to riding on the wagon with Sandal and Bodhann, finding it far more comfortable a ride than sharing the horse with Nike, and not inclined to take a mount of her own. As Nike spurred Angry Horse past the wagon to reach Alistair's side, she looked over and met the elf's eyes. Whatever was going on, Tahja and the dwarves were feeling it, too. They looked pale, and nervous.

"Alistair," Nike said as she got to his side. "I think it's best if we find a place for the rest of the group to camp. I'm feeling very disquiet, and I'd rather not take them into town if we can avoid it. At least, not until we get the lay of the land."

He nodded. "There's an old redoubt not too far ahead that should serve," he said. "Part of a fort that was replaced by Castle Redcliffe. It's well outside where the village stands now."

"That sounds ideal. It'll be defensible. Are you feeling it too?"

He nodded grimly. "I don't like it. It's like a storm is about to break, without a cloud in the sky."

"You and I will go into the village proper once the others are settled, speak with Arl Eamon ourselves."

"Just us?"

She nodded. "For now."

At her side, Holly gave a growl, and she looked down at the hound. "No, Hol. I need you to stay with Tahja and the others. You'll smell any threat long before they will. We won't be long."

They reached the turn off for the redoubt a few minutes later. Nike and Alistair lingered long enough to help the others get their things unloaded and set up camp, before they took their leave. Nike was so distracted she hadn't even noticed that Morrigan was missing until they were well on their way to the village. The big raven hopped brazenly down from an old snaggled tree along the side of the road and perched herself on Nike's shoulder.

Nike scowled a little at the raven. "So, this is your way of insisting on coming along?" she asked in a whisper. The bird snapped lightly near Nike's ear. Nike turned her head away, and said nothing more.

The ground swiftly grew rocky, the road wide but weaving now as it climbed upward. Alistair, perhaps nervous, had not said a word since they'd left the others. If he had noticed Morrigan had joined them he didn't mention it.

They caught sight of the village at last as they rounded a turn; a cluster of wattle and daub buildings crowding winding cobbled paths and streets. At the far end of town, a roaring cataract cast rainbows into the golden sunlight. The river it made marked the near boundary of town, and the only way over was a wide bridge. Past the waterfall, just visible in the rocky crags, the topmost peaks of Redcliffe Castle could be seen.

A man had perched himself on the railing of the bridge. He was dressed in the manner of a soldier but the rest of his bearing seemed otherwise. His cheeks were scruffed with several days' growth, his hair a tangle of whorls and peaks that looked as if he had been knotting his hands through them. His eyes, as he looked over, were sunk in hollows rivaled only by the gaunt cheeks below them. His armor looked battered and dirty, the tabard over it torn and stained.

He hopped quickly off the railing as he saw them and moved to block the bridge. One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, the other stretched out to his side. "Halt, please," he said even as they were already reining in their mounts. "You'll find no shelter here. Best move on, and best go quick."

"We're here to see Arl Eamon," Nike told the young man. "We have business with him."

The soldier ran a hand over his face, his fingers lingering idly on his scruff as if just realizing the whiskers were there. "Have you not heard? Maker. Has not one damned soul outside of Redcliffe heard?"

"Heard what?" Alistair asked.

"Arl Eamon is ill," he said. "No one's gone in or out of the Keep in days, save the dead."

Nike felt her stomach tighten a bit, and exchanged a look with Alistair before addressing the soldier. "Is it a plague? Infecting the keep?"

"Plague? No. I mean, I don't rightly know. No one does."

"I'm a little confused," she said. "They've set a quarantine and send their dead out of the keep for disposal, but you don't know what it is that killed them?"

He laughed. It was a weary, bitter sound. "No, ma'am. Pardon the misunderstanding. When I say no one's come out of the Keep in days except the dead, I don't mean on their backs. Every night at full dark, dead soldiers come out of Redcliffe and attack the village. It's been happening for days now."

"Dead soldiers?" Alistair asked. "You mean darkspawn"

"No sir, not darkspawn. Leastways, I don't think so. Ain't never seen a darkspawn meself, but the Bann has, and he says they're not the same. They're just corpses, sir. Dead soldiers. Some I trained next to not a fortnight ago."

Morrigan cocked her head at Nike a moment, then spread her wings and took to the air. Nike watched her head off toward the castle.

"The Bann. You mean Teagan?" Alistair said, as the raven winged away. "Is he here? Can we speak with him?"

"Ay, he's in the Chantry. Most of what's left of the village is in the Chantry, hiding out. I'm charged with staying here during the day, to keep refugees and such from coming in and being torn apart by the nightmare, but you two don't look much like refugees. Do you know the Bann?"

"I do," Alistair said. "I've…been here before, though it's been quite some time."

"Do you know where the Chantry is? I don't dare leave to show you but I suppose I can give you directions- "

"That won't be necessary. I remember where it is," Alistair said, then started across the bridge as the soldier gestured them across. The wood planks rumbled under the horse's hooves, and Nike glanced back once to see the man perching himself back on the railing again.

"Arl Eamon sick?" Alistair said as they entered the village proper, looking around. "The dead spilling out of Redcliffe Castle? Maker, what is happening here?"

"I don't know," Nike said. Now that they had a better look at the buildings, she could see that some of them had been badly burned. Old blood creased some of the cobbles and it looked like someone had made a half-hearted attempt to clean them. Everywhere, doors were barred and shutters were closed- where they still existed. Not a soul, save a scrawny cat, was seen in the streets. She thought she caught someone peeking at her from a window, but it quickly slammed shut again, and she heard a latch being set.

The Chantry was one of only two stone buildings down in the village, and was bigger than the square it flanked. Another handful of soldiers- all as disheveled, unshaven, and worn as the one on the bridge had been- were gathered on the stone steps. They all got to their feet as Alistair and Nike rode up and dismounted.

"Who are you lot then?" One asked laconically as they approached, but he seemed fairly unconcerned with the answer, as he almost immediately turned and rapped four times on the Chantry door, paused, then rapped twice more.

They heard a latch being lifted, and the door cracked open. He whispered briefly through the gap, then waved the pair of them in before he returned to the steps.

The inside of the Chantry was clogged with smoke, the haze smelling of cooking and incense, mingled with the miasma of clustered unwashed bodies and nightsoil. A grand hall lead along back toward the Chantry proper, and it was lined with people- children, mothers, old men and women. All wore the distant, blank look the soldiers outside had. Most barely stirred to watch them walk past.

The hall opened up into the Sanctuary, where even more had camped out. Moving through the villagers, tending to wounds or passing out food, were a number of Chantry sisters. At the far end, however, a small handful of men along with a woman Nike took to be the Revered Mother had gathered at the foot of the Statue of Andraste, and were speaking in low tones together. Alistair recognized one of them and called out.

"Teagan! Bann Teagan!"

A redheaded man with a kind face and a neatly trimmed beard looked over at him with a scowl that quickly cleared into surprise.

"Alistair? By the Maker, lad, is that you?"

He excused himself from the knot and headed toward them, his eyes darting between the wardens before he clapped his hands on Alistair's shoulders. "Come, come," he said hurriedly, before either could speak again. "This way."

He led them across a side hall until they were out of earshot of the others. "Alistair, I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you, and how horrified," Teagan told him, and then looked at Nike. "Both of you."

"Horrified?" Alistair asked with a blink. "Teagan, what's going on? What happened to Eamon?"

"I must speak quickly, it will be dark soon and there is too much to do," Teagan said. "Are you two aware that Loghain Mac Tir has put a bounty on your heads?"

"Yes, we'd heard," Nike said. "He thinks we betrayed the King."

"It's worse than that. He's doing everything in his power to not only get hold of you two, but to prevent any other Wardens from entering Ferelden."

"What?" She stared at him. "Why? Even if he thinks that we betrayed the King, that had nothing to do with the other Wardens."

"He hates the Wardens of old," Teagan told her. "Believes them puppets of Orlais, but that is a long and gruesome story I won't get into here. I cannot truly say whether he honestly believes what he says or not, but he is using what happened at Ostagar as an excuse to paint the Wardens as Orlesian spies who conspired to kill the King. I- "

He shook his head once, as if clearing a particularly bothersome fly. "No. There's too much to do. We are in trouble here, if you had not heard. Alistair, some time ago Eamon fell extremely ill. He lays in a sleep that seems only a breath from death, and as each day passes he gets weaker. His knights have scattered to the winds in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes-"

"We heard some of this, but-"

"What you haven't heard is that a fortnight ago, the Keep was sealed from within. No one was allowed in, and no one came out- until that nightfall, when the doors burst open and Redcliffe Village was beset by its own soldier-sons, clearly dead but animated with some hellish magic. Every evening at full dark it is the same. Again, and again the dead swarm down from Redcliffe and attack the village until dawn drives them away again. So many have died, only to join the attacking force almost before they can fall still on the ground. There are now less than twenty men and women capable of fighting this abomination and with no end in sight.

"Those of us left have been trying to figure a way into the castle, to find out what is going on and put a stop to this madness, but we have yet to succeed. Alistair-"

"We'll help," Alistair said with a stony, intent expression that Nike had never seen on his face before. She lifted her eyebrows as she looked at him in surprise.

Teagan was already shaking his head. "I cannot ask it of you. Just the two of you will not be able to turn the tide of this mess-"

"It's not just the two of us," he said, then looked at Nike, his stony look becoming an almost pleading one. "We have to do something to help. If we can get them through one more night, maybe we can find a way into the castle, find out what's going on in there."

She opened her mouth to respond but he didn't wait, his eyes going back to Teagan. "Eamon's son- is Connor-?"

"We just don't know. We don't know if any of them are alive, or hostage, or what is happening," Teagan told him. "Alistair, please. Two more armed men are not going to make a difference when the rest of us are exhausted. There isn't a man or woman here in fighting strength. Most have gone days without more than a moment's sleep. We've no arrows, very little in the way of arms, and-"

"Arms, we can provide, as well as more than just the two of us, as Alistair said," Nike heard herself saying, marveling at her own bravado even as she screamed internally to herself that this was a terrible idea. "We may even have a way to find out what's going on inside the castle."

Realization dawned on Alistair's face. "Yes, Mor-"

He broke off as she gave him a pointed look, and nodded. "I mean, yes. Yes, we may actually have a way to- at any rate, you need help, and we're going to give it."

"These 'dead' that attack," Nike looked at Teagan. "Do they attack outside the bounds of Redcliffe Village?"

"No," he said. "They don't cross the river, seem to have no inclination to wander afield. It's the village specifically that draws their venom."

"Then those of us that can't fight will be safe at our camp," Nike said with relief. "It will be dark in three hours. We'll return to our camp, get the things we need, then get back here."

"We'll finish getting a plan together for tonight," Teagan said, seeing he clearly wasn't going to talk either of them out of it. "If we survive the evening, and if you are able to glean what is happening in the Keep, we can discuss next steps in the morning. Tell Tomas when you go that you will be returning and that he is to let you and any with you into the village when you return, without question. I believe it is Tomas on the bridge today. Come back here and we'll go over things."

Alistair gripped Teagan's hand with a nod. "We'll be back soon."

As the two wardens headed out of the Chantry again, Nike stole yet another look at her companion. Alistair's jaw was tight, the tendons corded with sheer tension. High spots of color shone on his cheeks. He looked determined, but in his eyes she could see that terrified little ten year old boy that so often seemed to be standing in his armor. She wondered if she, herself, looked like a terrified little girl. She certainly felt like it right now.

As they mounted their horses, she looked once again toward the Keep, and where the raven had gone. There was no sign of her.

Morrigan, please be doing what I think you're doing, she thought as she turned her horse's head toward the river. And please, please be safe.