CHAPTER 11

..x..

Boots crunched over dirt and gravel as the party of five travelers, plus the hound trekked through the Imperial Highway. Three days have passed since they left Lothering behind and they were thankfully getting closer to Redcliffe each day, so far without incident. Gone were the yellows and browns of the swampy woods in the far south as they journeyed deeper through the lush green of the Hinterlands. Pines, ash, and oak trees towered over them, their shade covering the path ahead and shielding them from the afternoon sun. Wildflowers, grasses, and ferns grew over the hills bordering the road, filling the air with their scent as the gentle breeze rustled their leaves. Ferelden may be cold, wet, and dangerous in places, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

The two Grey Wardens walked ahead of the group, armor hidden under their cloaks as their plates, hauberk, and weapons clanked and chimed with every step. They were followed closely by a mabari war hound as it curiously sniffed the ground along the way, sometimes trotting a little faster to catch up after having become distracted by a particular scent. The mage trailed behind them, sending dirty looks to the Chantry sister strolling beside her as the nun's incessant chatter added to her ever-growing irritation. Their qunari companion remained in the back, observing the strange interactions between the humans and half-listening to their conversations.

"Morrigan, I think you would look marvelous in a purple silk dress. With black lace embroidery and a dangerously low front cut." Leliana sighed dreamily at the thought, clasping both hands behind her back as she walked. "Oh, and some beautiful blue shoes… Yes, I believe that would suit you too."

"What are you on about now?" Morrigan turned an annoyed stare towards her, only to see the woman's intense gaze was focused on her overly-exposed chest. Mortified and disgusted, she curled her nose and covered her bosom, noticing that for whatever reason, the nun seemed particularly obsessed with the female figure. "Will you stop gawking at my breasts!"

Leliana smiled sweetly, ignoring the dangerous edge on the witch's voice. "I was only imagining how pretty you would look in a dress. I think we should go shopping sometime."

"I refuse..."

"Come now, don't be shy! It would be fun!" She giggled with excitement. "Just the two of us lovely women, playing dress-up together in the busy streets of the royal capital of Denerim. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

"There is something seriously wrong with you..." Morrigan muttered grumpily, picking up the pace in an attempt to leave the woman behind.

Further ahead, the Wardens ignored the noise coming from the back, instead, keeping their ears open and eyes peeled for any trouble. Only the sounds of nature and their footsteps filled the silence, but the peace could be deceitful. They passed by a few, lonesome huts and farms by the road as they walked for a few miles, all empty and deserted.

"It's so desolate out here…" Alistair commented with a creased brow.

"Some probably already heard what was coming and have moved on north." Everil's troubled eyes also took in the emptiness ahead.

The group was crossing a wooden bridge over a flowing river when faint, dark voices grasped at the edges of their minds, causing both her and Alistair to pause.

"Help!" someone called in the distance.

The Wardens exchanged a glance and ran towards the voice without a second thought. Their hasty feet took them over a hill and their sights landed upon a wagon with spilled goods at the edge of the road. Two dwarves stood near it, one of them wielding a short sword as a small group of darkspawn surrounded them. The creatures cackled at their soon to be victims, approaching them slowly as their pale stares focused on them.

"Leave them be, you bastards!"

The darkspawn whirled around at the sound of Everil's voice, seeing her and her party. They roared and charged, crossing the distance to the Grey Wardens. She drew her blades and ran down to meet them, ducking to avoid a slash before swinging upwards, splitting a hurlock's neck open. Then she threw her dagger, impaling it in the face of the genlock behind it. Her hound ran up past her, tackling the next one coming at her and clamping down on its jugular. Alistair blocked a blade with his shield and thrust his sword under it, running the creature through. With a cry of her own, Leliana joined in, slashing at a hurlock while a few steps to the side Morrigan set two others aflame.

One last darkspawn attempted to flee, running towards the woods as Alistair tried to chase after it. "Hey!"

But it didn't make it far.

Sten grabbed it and slammed it on the ground like a rag doll, before stomping on its head, easily crushing the skull.

"Geez…" the Warden mumbled, watching as the qunari simply stood there, unfazed by the blood and gore now clinging to his leg.

Seeing the creatures defeated, the now relieved dwarves stepped towards them, still slightly shaken from their close encounter. "Mighty timely arrival, friends! I am much obliged!" said one of them, a smile on his face. He was a middle-aged man, with a long, braided red beard and wearing a tan wool tunic and slacks.

"You are welcome. Are the two of you all right?" Everil asked, sheathing her blades.

"Yes, all is well," he replied with a nod. "The name's Bodhan and this is my son Sandal." He gestured to the young lad beside him.

He smiled widely at them. "Hello!"

She offered them a smile of her own. "I'm Everil. A pleasure to meet you."

He brushed his beard, tilting his head curiously. "Might I ask which way you're headed? Perhaps we're going the same way."

A light chuckle escaped her. "After what just happened, I doubt you will want to travel with Grey Wardens…"

"Grey Wardens, you say? Well, it all makes sense now…" He let out a hearty laugh. "Yes. It is true your travels may have a bit more excitement that me and my boy can handle. But you saved our lives, so perhaps we can offer you something in return before you continue on your way? I can give you a discount on my wares if you wish to trade."

"Hmm…" she looked over their cart, seeing pieces of armor and other things scattered about. Then turned to her companions, inspecting their state. Sten needed some gear on him and a sword. He couldn't just keep using his hands, and he was basically exposed in that linen tunic of his. Plus, they required additional camp gear to accommodate the new bodies in their group.

Her decision made, she reverted her attention to the dwarf. "All right. We do need a few things if you don't mind."

He grinned. "Not at all! Come on over, I'll show you what we've got. Excuse the mess…"

She followed him closer to the wagon, while her companions spoke amongst themselves.

"We are a ways from Lothering. What were darkspawn doing all the way out here?" Leliana asked as she approached Alistair.

"Darkspawn control the deep roads—ancient underground highways used by dwarves in the old days," he replied quietly, glancing at the nun. "Which means they can pop out anywhere in Ferelden, especially during a Blight. Which is part of the reason why Grey Wardens are needed. To keep watch at all times."

"Oh... I see."

He smiled wryly at her. "Still glad you joined?"

"Of course I am." She gave a firm nod. "The more I know about all this, the more I want to help. Besides, I would have probably died in Lothering anyway. Might as well die fighting with you if it comes to it."

A humorless laugh escaped him. "That's the spirit…"

It wasn't long before the group resumed their journey, the dwarves waving their goodbyes at them as they continued their trek along the highway. Sten now sported a chainmail armor set, the only thing the merchant had that fit him. A great sword was strapped to his back, one he hesitantly picked himself without a word. Leliana also carried a bow now, claiming she was as good a marksman as she was with her daggers. They left with one more tent as well, the qunari having refused one over them being too small for his size.

After walking for two more days, they were nearing Redcliffe, but the night was falling upon them just hours before they could reach it. Traveling in the dark was already dangerous, so Everil deemed it necessary for them to stop and finish the trip in the morning. They set up their camp in a small clearing after scouting the area and each of them went off to do their own tasks. Leliana was freshening up by a nearby stream, while Sten, Everil, and her hound set out to bring food, leaving only two party members to watch over their gear.

Tossing some sticks to the ground, Alistair knelt next to a pile of more dry twigs and branches, gathering them together to make their campfire. Meanwhile, his mind wandered, the tension settling over his shoulders. Soon they would be in Redcliffe, and Everil would find out more about his past than he would have wanted to share. A frustrated breath left him and he inwardly chastised himself for not having told her everything before. For having been too afraid to reveal his secret even after learning of her trust in him and of their friendship. He enjoyed how comfortable and open she seemed around him, despite the brevity of their time together. And he did not want any of it to change or for her to distance herself from him.

He was absently reaching for the flint in his pack when a flame erupted over the wood. The unexpected burst knocked him onto his rear with a yelp, nearly burning off his eyebrows. And he glowered at the flames, knowing exactly where they came from.

Morrigan laughed from where she stood mere steps away, fingers still ablaze. "Just what sort of Templar are you? I could have burned you alive if I so wished."

He shot her a heated glare and picked himself up from the ground. "Very funny. Don't you have anything better to do? Like… eat children or terrorize some random Chasind village?"

"Does your Chantry teach nothing but tales? Though I suppose 'tis not surprising, considering the intellectual capacity of their Templars—or lack thereof." She folded her arms, smirking while watching him kneel once more to tend to the fire.

"Because living in the middle of the woods as an animal makes you so much smarter than me… I don't think so."

"One's birthplace has little influence on one's ability to learn. With the right tools, anyone can turn a savage into a man. On the other hand, if one is raised among glorified ignorance, then that would lead to... you."

Alistair silently continued working despite his growing irritation, trying in vain to ignore her insults.

"Hmm…" she hummed. "I wonder... Why were you and the other Warden sent to the tower while the rest of the Grey Wardens fought in the front lines? What was the reason your Duncan kept you out of the battle?" Morrigan tapped her chin with a finger, smirking wickedly while tilting her head. "Was it perhaps to protect you from your own stupidity? Or was there something more? Hmph… Regardless, 'tis a shame he could not rely on you to save him..."

That made him bolt to his feet and he closed the distance, his face mere inches from hers. "Do me a favor, Morrigan…" he hissed angrily. "Go crawl under a bush somewhere and die."

"Ooh, I must have struck a nerve..." Purple lips formed a sly smile, amusement etched upon her cat-like eyes. "You have been casting anxious stares upon the back of your fellow Warden since we began our travels to your home village. 'Tis made me curious. Are you perhaps hiding something from her?"

His eyes narrowed at her. "That's none of your business..."

"So you have been hiding something from her…" Morrigan chuckled with mirth. "What is it, hm? I promise not to tell…"

"I wouldn't trust you if you were the last—"

"Oh, just kiss already!"

They both turned their eyes to the woman in question and Alistair's face drained of color. She was standing a distance away, an amused smile on her face. Her hound and Sten were behind her, an already gutted boar limply hanging over the qunari's broad shoulders.

"Ugh…" Morrigan's nose curled at her suggestion. "The very thought of that makes my stomach turn."

A chuckle escaped Everil as she approached them. "Why are you two fighting now?"

"'Tis nothing of relevance… To me at least." The witch smiled at the awkward look on Alistair's face. "But I'm sure Alistair can tell you more. We all know 'tis not good to keep secrets amongst friends."

He shot her a glare. "Will you shut up?"

Smirking, she shrugged him off and turned to leave.

Sten unceremoniously dropped the boar on the ground, saying nothing to add to their conversation, while Everil looked up with a grateful grin. "Thank you for your help today."

He ignored it, walking away towards the far edge of the camp. He and Morrigan seemed to share the same antipathy towards others, always off on their own and avoiding them as much as they could. She was still curious as to why the qunari had been caged back in Lothering, but all attempts made at communication were met with either one-sentence responses or just straight silence. However, her next attempts would have to wait, for right now she was starving. Thus she pulled a small carving knife from her belt and took a knee next to the boar, intent on shaving the fur from its hard skin so they could throw it into the fire.

Alistair took a seat by the flames and propped up his arm on a knee as he gazed towards her. He watched her work for a moment, anxiously waiting for her to say something about his argument with Morrigan, but no questions came. He frowned and tentatively spoke. "You're not going to ask about... About what Morrigan was talking about?"

"I don't think I have to…" she answered quietly, eyes focused on what was to be their meal. "I'm sure you have your reasons to keep whatever secret you hold from me. And if I must know of it, then you will reveal it to me when you are ready."

"Thanks…" he muttered, casting a penitent stare upon the ground.

A brief silence soon fell over them, interrupted only by the pops and crackles of the coals. He leaned over to poke at the burning chips, adjusting them before tossing in a new piece of wood to keep the flames going. With a yawn, Bjorn rose from his spot by his mistress and took a few steps to sit beside him.

Alistair arched a brow at him. "So you like me now… Or are you just here because your boss is busy?" The dog whined and nuzzled his cheek, drawing a light laugh from the Warden before he gently patted his large head.

"He likes you. If he didn't, he would have definitely let you know by now."

"Really?" he chuckled. "I thought he hated me... Considering all the times he ignored me or scoffed at me."

"It just takes him some time to warm up to others." She sent the hound a loving grin. "Right, boy?"

Bjorn barked once in response.

"Well, I'm glad. Because I love big, adorable, puppies like you," he cooed, scratching behind the hound's ear as it panted happily.

Everil watched them for a moment, laughing a little as Bjorn leaned more heavily against him. The dog's weight nearly caused him to fall over as he released, making him chortle again. Then it slid down to the ground, resting its head on the Warden's leg as he continued to pet it.

"Hey, Alistair…"

"Yes?" His attention shifted from the canine to her, the haunted look he held previously now gone.

She inquisitively knitted her brow. "What happens when you become a Grey Warden?"

"You drink some blood, you choke on it, and then pass out," he answered casually, sending her a playful smirk. "You haven't forgotten that already, have you?"

Everil smiled sarcastically. "Ha ha… Very funny."

Chuckling lightly, Alistair pushed himself to his feet and moved to kneel beside her, pulling out his own knife to help with their grub. "All right, let's see…" He released a breath, preparing to speak of a subject most Grey Wardens found very uncomfortable. "Aside from the wonderful nightmares we have each night and the ability to 'listen' to the darkspawn. You will notice an increase in appetite. The taint will demand more from your body, which means you will be eating more."

"Seriously?" She blinked in surprise. "I haven't noticed anything like that..."

He grinned at her. "Are you sure? Because I saw the way you scarfed down the stew Morrigan made yesterday and it had me thinking 'Ooh, it's a good thing she gets a lot of exercise.'"

Everil shrugged a shoulder. "What can I say? I'm a growing girl."

"I'll say…"

"Hey..." she glared jokingly at him, raising a fist.

"Ah, don't hit me! I bruise easily!" he jested, shielding his arm with one hand.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, returning to cleaning the animal. "As if you are any better. That hare we had a while ago didn't need to die twice, you know."

"Hah! You should have seen the time I raided the larder in the Grey Warden base we have in Denerim. Duncan found me covered in gravy like a pig. He was laughing so hard he said he almost d—uhm…" He caught himself, swallowing uncomfortably.

Her features softened upon seeing the grief in his eyes. "Duncan was a good man…"

"Yes… Yes, he was…" Alistair sighed mournfully, and after collecting himself, he continued. "There's... something worse about being a Grey Warden that we don't tell anyone before they join."

"Worse than the possibility of me getting fat?" She attempted to lighten up his mood, but this time he didn't laugh. Instead, he appeared guilty.

"The taint... It's a death sentence…" He turned away, avoiding her stare. "You have thirty years left to live... Tops."

An awkward silence followed as Everil bit her lip and shifted her stunned gaze to her hands. None of the things she was hearing were in any books or lessons from their scholar, and she could see why. The sacrifices Grey Wardens made to be who they were would not necessarily draw in enough people to replenish their ranks without deception or secrecy. "Ah…Well… I guess that means I don't have to worry about getting old and wrinkly."

He frowned sympathetically. "I'm sorry..."

"It's all right… I can understand why they don't speak of such things."

"It's not easy to talk about, no," Alistair spoke quietly, his stare falling back to their work. "We… call it The Calling. Our nightmares they... get worse, until they become unbearable. That's how we know our time has come. When that happens, most head down to the deep roads for one last battle against the darkspawn. I guess it's sort of a tradition now." He glanced at her with a sullen expression. "Duncan said his nightmares were getting worse. That he'd be leaving for the deep roads soon. It's... a shame he didn't get to die the way he wanted. He deserved better. They all did."

"They will be remembered..." she assured him. The way they died was certainly unfair when it came to warriors like them. They were trying to save the world from evil, yet were thwarted by one man. Loghain had not seemed the type to respect or trust them either, so the bastard probably felt no remorse over their deaths. In his book, they were probably just another casualty of war.

"Yeah…" He drew in a breath. "You know... I don't think Duncan had any family to speak of. All I know is that he was born and raised in Highever."

She brushed off more fur and ran the knife further along the animal's neck."I suppose that explains why my father knew him so well. Still, while I personally wasn't privy to who he was, I do know he actually did have a family."

His head craned in her direction. "Really? Who?"

Everil gazed back at him, a gentle grin playing on her lips. "He had you."

"Oh… Yes. I suppose that's true..." Alistair smiled sadly, the words ringing true in his ears. While he and Duncan only knew each other for six months, he was the only good thing to ever happen to him in years. He'd given him hope when he had none for so long. Taught him everything he knew about the Grey Wardens and their ways. Even as a person, there was no one else in the world he respected more than him. "Maybe once this is over... I'll go up to Highever and give him a proper service."

The idea drew her eyes to him and she reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind one ear. It would be something worth looking forward to, even if it was to say their goodbyes to those they lost. "Then perhaps I will go with you… For both Duncan and my family."

His smile broadened. "I would like that... I think he would too."

"All right." Everil gave him a firm nod. "It's a promise..."

"Yes… A promise," he replied, his amber gaze softening.

She proceeded to prepare the herbs they'd gathered for seasoning, crushing them between delicate hands before smearing them over the meat. So focused was she on her task that Everil didn't notice his gentle stare lingering over her. Alistair found himself quietly observing her profile, realizing that not only was she beautiful on the outside, but she had a heart of gold on the inside. If anyone else had gone through what she did, they would have hidden in their shell and focused only on their problems. Not her, however. In spite of all the bloodshed and death they witnessed, she still smiled and cared about others around her. Even clearly cared about him.

Anxiety again gripped him when his mind wandered back to where they were headed. He couldn't keep her in the dark any longer. She deserved to know.

.x.x.x.x.

It was past noon by the time a castle emerged on the horizon, its towers rising over the woods ahead. The group had stopped in a wide clearing, atop a hill descending to another patch of trees. Redcliffe's location placed it close to the Bannorn, the central region of Ferelden and where most of its lands were distributed into smaller villages and towns ruled by the bans. More goods were produced in those parts, which meant they held a tight trade relationship with the arling. This allowed for the flow of food, minerals, cattle, and other things, in and out of the southern settlements across the Hinterlands. In exchange, more variety of items were sent up to the country's central lands and further to the north. And yet, in spite of the town once being heavily frequented, the road was devoid of all merchants and travelers.

"All right, we don't know what the situation in Redcliffe is and I don't want to stir any trouble. A larger group led by two Grey Wardens may just do that. So, for now, I will only be taking two others with me. The rest of you will set up camp here until we return." Everil turned her eyes to Leliana and her dog. "Bjorn and Leliana will come with us. My hound can serve as additional muscle while Leliana… You, uh… Uhm... You just seem the most normal out of our group."

"The lunatic nun is the most 'normal'? My, but thank you for the uplifting words," Morrigan muttered moodily.

"Hey…" Leliana sent her a hurt look, which she ignored.

"Redcliffe has a large Chantry," Everil said, resting both hands on her hips while regarding the witch. "Until we are in the clear, I would like to avoid a confrontation with their Templars. And barging in with a mage who is obviously from outside the Circle would only make things more difficult."

"I suppose your caution is warranted. But sooner or later we will face such problems again and you must trust in my ability to handle them." She smirked wickedly, folding her arms. "I did not live as an apostate my entire life without learning a thing or two about avoiding or tricking Templars. And the one who taught me has been doing so for much, much longer."

"That may be true, but we need the arl's support. I would rather not risk it." Everil turned to her chosen party. "Let's go."

The four of them walked the rest of the way, leaving Sten and Morrigan behind to make camp. It took them two hours or so to reach the village entrance, which seemed just as quiet as the road leading to it. The gates sat atop a cliff that overlooked the whole village, while also providing a view of the arl's castle in the distance. It was built over an islet on the great Lake Calenhad, which glistened in the background, expanding as far as their eyes could see. This was the largest body of water in the country, appropriately named after Ferelden's first king. A high waterfall flowed through their path, its waters dropping into a stream crossing the town below.

They were nearing the bridge over it when someone armed with a bow ran towards them from the other side. He was a young man, with long brown hair, deep relief etched over his features. "Maker... Finally someone from the outside! Have you come to help us?"

"Help?" Alistair asked worriedly. "Help with what?"

The man's face fell. "You mean… You haven't heard?"

Everil eyed him with a questioningly. "Heard what? Did something happen to the village?"

"Oh, Maker... What hasn't happened? Come with me. Bann Teagan can explain everything."

Alistair's brows shot up with surprise. "Bann Teagan? The arl's brother? He's here?"

He gave him a nod. "Yes. He's been trying to help us through all this. Follow me."

They entered through the town gates, which were to the right of another path leading to the castle. Their feet took them down the steep slope until they reached the road below. Drying puddles of crimson red lay over the ground they trekked on, peppering it in places and increasing in numbers the further they went. The party grimaced as the rank stench of blood and death wafted into their noses, mixed with the smell of fish and algae coming from the lake. They walked by the log barricades blocking some of the roads, propped up between the quaint, little huts. Some wooden walls were covered in arrows, while more blood could be seen drying over them in darkening stains. And while the village appeared to be capable of housing hundreds, only a handful of armed townsfolk could be seen walking outside.

They stepped into the town square and spotted some men practicing archery or sparring at its center. Their technique was raw and unrefined, which spoke of the meager level of skill they carried. Everil glanced at them as the group passed them by and neared the Chantry's towering temple, which crowded a corner as its Templars stood guard outside. Their guide opened the heavy doors for them and the sight that awaited them inside made her heart twist.

Women, children, and the elderly—all innocents who appeared to be what remained of Redcliffe's population—were huddled together, shaking tearfully, and praying to the Maker. Their wails echoed through the long chamber, their despair almost tangible as they tried to comfort one another. The Grey Wardens gazed at their crying faces with sympathy as they walked, seeing their terrified stares looking back at them as they passed. The picture reminded her much of Lothering's refugees and of their plight before the darkspawn trampled over them, massacring them without mercy.

What's happened here…? Everil thought, her chest aching for them.

A red-headed man in steel armor stood before the altar ahead. He was in his early thirties, with a well-trimmed beard over his chin and around full lips. Short hair was combed back while a single, long braid graced a handsome face. Bright green eyes were focused as he relayed instructions to another villager, who nodded with a fist to his chest and ran past them to do his bidding. His attention shifted to them as they came to a stop before him.

Their guide bowed. "My lord, these people just arrived. I thought you'd like to see them."

"Good work." He observed the small group, his tired gaze landing on her. "Welcome friends. My name is Teagan Guerrin, Bann of Rainesfere and brother to the Arl of Redcliffe."

"A pleasure." Everil politely dipped her head before gesturing to Alistair. "My friend here and I are Grey Wardens seeking aid from Redcliffe."

"Grey Wardens?" He scrutinized her thoughtfully. "Hmm... I must say… You look very familiar, my lady."

"You may have seen me in gatherings amongst the nobility. I'm Teyrn Bryce Cousland's daughter, Everil Cousland," she replied firmly, reaching out for a handshake. There was still pride in her tone, despite no longer holding her lands and her family's power.

"Ah, yes... My, but you are more beautiful than I remember." Teagan delicately took her hand in his, slightly bending at the waist to bring it up to his lips in a chaste kiss. He straightened and held it between both of his, sympathy in his eyes. "I heard about what happened to your family from the other nobles in the Landsmeet. We were not told all the details, only that it was a horrific attack. I am... so sorry for your loss."

Everil gave him a sad smile. Of course, Howe would not tell anyone what really happened. If he did, they would likely turn on him. "Thank you… I'm sorry about your nephew, as well, Bann Teagan."

"My thanks… Death has touched many these days..." He gently patted the back of her hand, his kind eyes remaining on her face for a bit too long.

Until Alistair cleared his throat, attempting to get the nobleman's attention. "Bann Teagan… It's been a while. Do you remember me?"

Teagan released her while his gaze moved towards him. "Hmm… Should I?"

"It's me, Alistair." He grinned at him. "Although last we spoke I was about ten years younger, and covered in mud."

The bann's face lit up. "Alistair! Andraste's mercy, you live! Wait… You two are the Grey Wardens who survived Ostagar, aren't you? When I heard the news I almost could not believe it."

"Yes, we almost died thanks to Teyrn Loghain." Alistair almost spat the name.

"So I have heard…" Teagan's relieved features turned into a disgusted scowl. "He claims to have called a retreat in order to save his men. That Cailan placed our country at risk in the name of glory. I don't believe him. His words sound like the ravings of a madman."

"Well, at least someone is on our side," Everil told him, crossing her arms. "We came seeking the support of Arl Eamon in order to overthrow Loghain and defeat the Blight."

He rubbed the side of his neck, deep concern in his eyes. "Actually… that's one of our problems. Eamon fell ill days before my nephew's death. We don't even know if he still lives because we haven't heard from the castle since… all of this started to happen." His pleading gaze focused on the younger man before him. "Alistair, I know you and your friends have a Blight to battle, but you must help us. Something evil has taken over the castle and attacks the village during the night. Each night more innocents fall prey to it. If we don't stop them tonight, I fear we will lose everyone in Redcliffe."

But Alistair was still trying to register the news. Arl Eamon… Someone he once looked up to as a father, was possibly dead or dying. He thought losing Duncan already caused him enough grief, but now there was a possibility he would lose yet another man he respected. He turned to Everil as she waited patiently for his answer, but his own doubt kept him from giving it. "I… I would in a heartbeat, but it's not all up to me."

His hesitation drew a puzzled look from her before she turned to the bann. "Of course we'll help. What is this evil you speak of?"

Teagan released a breath, shaking his head. "Walking corpses... They crowd the village and attack anything that moves in great numbers. They have a taste for human flesh, as well… They will eat you on the spot or drag you away back to the castle, never to be seen again."

Everil listened to him, going over his words in her head. There were many legends around the undead. Some were said to rise from their graves in ancient battlefields, where the veil to the Fade was too weak to keep evil spirits and demons from crossing over into their world. They would possess the corpses, seeking to exact their revenge or prey upon the living. Others were said to be summoned by powerful mages dabbling in the dark arts, to be used as tools for their own means. If such things were coming from the castle there had to be someone or something inside causing it. The arl could yet be alive and was possibly trapped within, so they had to move quickly to save him. Still, going through the front door would be a terrible idea. They would have to find another way in after helping the townsfolk.

That meant risking their lives against a force they knew very little about. Had she known such a horrible curse had befallen these people before coming here, she would have brought the qunari and her mage. Morrigan seemed well versed in old magic, so her expertise would have proven invaluable to them. While Sten, with his brute strength and heavy build, could have helped in the fight against larger numbers. But it was no use now. They wouldn't be able to make it to camp and back in time before nightfall. She would have to make do with what they had and hope it would be enough.

"Aside from the villagers, who else will be fighting with us?" she asked.

"We have a few Templars left, as well as a handful of Eamon's knights. We also have some help from a local dwarf by the name of Dwyn. He has some hired muscle with him."

"All right. It sounds like there will be a few skilled warriors alongside the less skilled ones. Still… It sounds like we will be outnumbered regardless. Do you have a plan in place for tonight?"

"We began plotting a strategy, yes… But your arrival changes things for the better." He gestured for them to follow and walked past them. "Come. I will call forth a meeting and we'll discuss the details there."

Everil nodded, going after him along with her party. They crossed the nave once more, heading back to the door as the sobs and whimpers of the people around them seemed to follow them. Her eyes narrowed with unwavering determination as she listened to their plight. This time she would not flee to survive. They would fight and they would save whatever was left of this village.

.x.x.x.x.

Burning candles lit up their makeshift war room, set upon multiple tables around the inn's dingy tavern. It appeared to have been lively once, with barrels of ale spread along a wall and a lute sitting in a corner, collecting dust. There was no innkeeper to man the place or bar maidens to serve them food. But it mattered little now, for no one inside sought to get merry. What remained of their mismatched forces gathered around a wide table, looking over a map of the village that already had a few markers on it. They all held grim expressions on their faces, clearly worn out from all the fighting and worried over the next battle.

"All right, it seems we have some Grey Wardens helping us tonight. Though the Maker certainly has a sense of humor. I didn't expect a woman would be among them." Murdock, the mayor of Redcliffe was a gruff, blunt, and very much uncouth man, which was sometimes typical in Ferelden. He had a bushy mustache and beard, as well as long brown hair, all framing a rugged face. Meaty arms were crossed as he regarded her, dark eyes turned to slits and thin lips forming a scowl. Iron scale armor covered his body, coated in the dirt and grime from having fought and survived the waves of monsters haunting them each night.

"I don't think darkspawn care about who kills them, ser." But Everil was not impressed, especially not by the way he was looking down on her. She proudly lifted her head, standing regally with her companions at the other side of the room.

"Hrmph… That may be so, but it don't take away from the fact that your order seems to have lowered their standards."

Leliana leaned towards Alistair, hiding her mouth behind one hand. "How awful… I thought Ferelden was open to women fighting."

"Oh, they can fight. Just some idiots think men should be the only ones calling the shots," he whispered back in annoyance. "He should be grateful. Any other Grey Wardens would have probably ignored the village and left Redcliffe to its fate. The Blight always comes first."

"I'm not here for your approval, Mayor. I'm here to help you save your people," she retorted, an edge in her otherwise calm voice. "Now stop wasting our time and tell us what plan you have to ensure what's left of them don't end up dead."

"Come now, Murdock…" Teagan uttered from his spot beside him.

"Fine…" He sent him a sideward glance, letting out a quiet huff before leaning over the table, running a finger over the map. "The creatures come from the castle's main entrance, through the bridge, and down this path. The knights can set up a frontal defense at the village gates, while the rest of us gather here to shield the non-combatants. We will hold our ground there until the night is over."

"Such a plan won't work," Everil spoke up, shaking her head.

Murdock looked up as everyone cast their eyes on her. "What? Don't tell me you've got a better idea. This worked the last two times we stood against them."

"But you lost a lot of people in the process." She walked up to their side of the table, leaning over the map. "You say they come in great numbers… We need to find a way to funnel them in order to take out as many as possible while also avoiding getting surrounded."

Bann Teagan watched closely as Murdock folded his arms, giving the woman a critical eye as he gruffly spoke. "All right… Show me what you've got."

The Warden nodded and leaned over, pointing with a finger. "We have barricades here already. But they are too close to the Chantry, where the non-combatants will be taking refuge. We want to distance the fight and keep stragglers from going in so as to not corner ourselves against a wall. So let us start at the village entrance."

She picked up the wooden marker before moving it up. "We place barricades here to block off as much room as possible and only leave an opening through which we can strike as they come in. The Templars, the arl's knights, and my group can be posted there since we will be able to deliver the most damage." Everil marked the top of the windmill that stood by the road leading to the castle, then at the cliffside across from it. "Posting archers on higher ground here, and here will provide additional support from a higher viewpoint." She looked around the room, eyes scanning the rugged men surrounding her. "Still… there will be some we will be unable to take down, and I would say to be prepared for any unpredictability. I would post archers at the highest buildings, overseeing the whole of the village further down. They not only will act as lookouts but will be able to assist against any stragglers coming down the cliffside."

Murdock reached up to his mustache, twisting it thoughtfully between his calloused fingers. The knights nodded their heads amongst each other. While Alistair could only stare at her in quiet admiration as she easily took control of the war room. Leliana's expression almost mirrored his, only to turn into a wide, proud smile. "She's good…"

"What else do you have, my lady?" Bann Teagan asked with interest, clearly impressed himself.

"The rest of the combatants can act as the second line of defense, but I suggest we barricade every possible route those things can use to flank us. Here, here, and here." She placed her finger on openings between huts and on the path leading to the village. "We use the same funneling tactic, but I would layer the barricades and build as many obstacles between them and the Chantry as possible. If we can hold our positions through the night, we should have minimal casualties."

"That… That sounds like a great idea," said Ser Perth, a red-headed knight with long hair and stubble, brown eyes hopeful.

"I agree," declared Ser Donall, another knight, who was thoughtfully rubbing the dark five o clock shadow over his jaw. He was seemingly older and more experienced than the others, with short, black hair, combed back. "My men and I stand by this new strategy."

"Yes. I say we do it," Teagan chimed in firmly.

"Hmph..." Murdock slowly nodded. "It seems we have a plan, everyone. Now, we only have a couple of hours before nightfall. So let's prepare and hope for time to rest. Because tonight, we'll be fighting until the break of dawn."

"Right. Let's get to it," said one of the villagers as the men slowly dispersed, heading out of the inn to perform their tasks.

Ser Donall was on his way out as well when he addressed Alistair. "Good to see you again, boy. I'll bet this wasn't what you were expecting when you came back home."

"No. It definitely wasn't," he chortled wryly. "But it's still good to see you too, Ser Donall. I look forward to fighting alongside you tonight."

The veteran knight gave him a nod, patting his arm before continuing his steps to the door.

A smiling Teagan approached Everil. "Well done, your Ladyship."

"The title isn't necessary... I'm just a Grey Warden now," she replied quietly as the rest of her party walked up to them.

"I see... Well, I imagine you must be tired from your travels. I suggest you rest for now. The men and I can take care of the preparations."

She tilted her head. "Are you certain?"

"Of course. You may use the rooms upstairs as you please. We will call upon you when ready."

"Understood... Thank you."

"No, no. It is I who is grateful. You've given many of us hope that we will make it through the night." He bowed to her before heading out to help outside, leaving the group in the deserted tavern.