A thank you to Judy for reviewing.
Avina
She wakes up.
She's immediately disoriented; one doesn't usually wake up from death, right?
But she's awake, at least as far as she can tell. She's in nothing but her smallclothes, her shoulder is sore and her head is aching from what must have been mana exhaustion from her fight in the tower...
As soon as this thought occurs to her she's sitting up in an instant, her eyes snapping wide open, and almost as instantly she regrets it. The light and change in position almost causes her to be sick. Nauseated, she falls back into the pillows, trying to keep what little there was in her stomach. After laying still for a few moments, her stomach calms, and she lets out a relieved breath. It could be so much worse, she supposes as she holds her arms up to examine them.
She has a new collection of bruises, ranging from the size of a blueberry to the size of a fist along with several minor scrapes and a burn on her forearm. When she glances down at her midsection, she finally notices the ugly scars that mar her pale skin. Each scar is a small, relatively straight line, thicker in the middle and thinner at the edges. Arrows.
Then it dawns on her. The tower. Alistair. Daylen. The soldier. The battle.
Was she the only one who survived?
A voice jerks her out of her thoughts. "Ah," a some-what familiar voice calls. "Your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased."
Avina glances over to the source of the voice and is met with the sight of the girl she met in the Wilds... Morrigan, she thinks.
"What happened to the darkspawn?" she blurts. She wonders why they left her alive, or if they did at all.
"You were injured," Morrigan explains. "Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?"
Avina closes her eyes and thinks hard. The beacon, she remembers Daylen lighting it. She remembers waiting. And then... Daylen fell. There were darkspawn... Alistair was standing beside her...
"She rescued me?" she whispers. This, she does not remember. "From the tower?"
"Mother managed to save you and your two friends, though 'twas a close call. What is important is that you all live." Morrigan pauses, as if deliberating. "The man who was to respond to your signal... quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle. Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend... He's not taking it well."
Hope swells in her chest. "My friend? You mean Alistair?"
Morrigan nods. "The suspicious, dim-witted one who was with you before, yes. He is outside by the fire, along with the other mage who was with you. Mother asked to see you when you awoke."
She briefly touches one of the ugly scars on her abdomen. "Were my injuries severe?"
"Yes," Morrigan admits. "But I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal."
"And..." she swallows. "Alistair? Is he alright?"
"He is," Morrigan confirms. "As you are. I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish."
Yes, it is, she thinks, but bites back any harsh comment she may have made. "I will go, then."
"I will stay, and make something to eat."
The day is still young when she steps out into the early morning sunshine. Her staff is in her hand again, and she's wearing her robes, though they sport a few more holes than before, though Morrigan seems to have done her best to mend them in the time she had.
Morrigan's mother notices her first. "See?" she says. "Here is your fellow Grey Warden. You worry too much, young man."
Alistair whirls around, slowly followed by Daylen. The dark circles under Alistair's eyes stand out to her as he takes a half step towards her. "You," he breathes, as if he can't believe it. Maybe he can't. "You're alive. I... thought you were dead for sure."
She smiles sadly, shaking her head. "I'm fine. I appreciate your concern."
Alistair wipes a hand over his eyes. "This doesn't seem real. If it weren't for Morrigan's mother, we'd be dead on top of that tower."
Morrigan's mother raises an eyebrow. "Do not talk about me as if I am not present, lad."
"I didn't mean..." Alistair starts. "But what do we call you? You never told us your name."
"Names are pretty, but useless," she says, her lips curling into a small smile. "The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do."
Daylen blanches, and Alistair's mouth drops open.
"The Flemeth?" he asks. "From the legends? Daveth was right - you're the Witch of the Wilds, aren't you?"
Avina blinks. Whatever this legend is, she has heard nothing of it.
"And what does that mean?" Flemeth snaps. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you well, has it not?"
"We can't be safe here," Avina interjects. "Where are all the darkspawn?"
"The largest part of the horde has moved on. We are safe enough for now - old Flemeth knows a thing or two about hiding. The longer you are here, the less that is true, however. These things will notice you eventually."
"We need to stop the Blight," Daylen says, lifting his head.
"We need to bring Loghain to judgement!" Alistair argued. "Why would he do this?"
"Now that is a good question," Flemeth says wryly. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the true threat."
"The archdemon," Alistair realizes.
"Then we need to find this archdemon," Avina declares.
"By ourselves?" Alistair says, incredulous. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated a Blight without the army of a half-dozen nations at his back. Not to mention, I don't know how."
"How to kill the archdemon, or how to raise an army? It seems to me, those are two different questions, hmm? Have the Wardens no allies these days?"
"I... I don't know. Duncan said that the Grey Wardens of Orlais had been called. And Arl Eamon would never stand for this, surely."
"The Arl of Redcliffe?" Daylen asks.
"I suppose... Arl Eamon wasn't at Ostagar; he still has all his men. And he was Cailan's uncle. I know him. He's a good man, respected in the Landsmeet. Of course! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!"
"Surely there are other allies we could call on."
"Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They're obligated to help us during a Blight!"
"I may be old," Flemeth states, "but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon, and who knows what else... This sounds like an army to me."
Alistair turns to Avina. "So can we do this? Go to Redcliffe and these other places and... build an army?"
"Why not?" She shrugs. "Isn't that what Grey Wardens do?"
"So you are set, then? Ready to be Grey Wardens?" Flemeth asks.
Avina nods. "Yes. Thank you for everything, Flemeth."
"No, no, thank you. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I. Now... before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you."
Morrigan comes up to stand beside her mother. "The stew is bubbling, Mother dear. Shall we have three guests for the eve or none?"
"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl. And you will be joining them."
"Such a shame - what?"
"You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears." Flemeth laughs.
"Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us..." Avina trails off.
"Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the horde."
"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demands.
"You have been itching to get out of the wilds for years," Flemeth points out. "Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."
Avina looks as if she wants to protest, but she only says, "Very well, then. We'll take her with us."
"Not to... look a gift horse in the mouth," says Alistair, "but won't this add to our problems? Out of the Wilds, she's an apostate."
"If you do not wish help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on that tower," Flemeth replies dryly.
"Point... taken."
"Mother... this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready -" Morrigan pleads.
Flemeth stops her. "You must be ready. Alone, these three must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."
"I... understand," Morrigan groans.
"And you, Wardens? Do you understand? I give you that which I value above all in this world. I do this because you must succeed."
"I understand," Daylen vows.
"Allow me to get my things, if you please," Morrigan says irritably.
...
When she returns, she's carrying an ancient-looking iron staff and a small pack which looks to be stuffed with herbs. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours."
"No," Daylen tells her. "I prefer you speak your mind."
"Ha ha," Flemeth chuckles. "You will regret saying that."
"Dear, sweet Mother," Morrigan replies sarcastically. "You are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I will remember this moment."
"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards."
"I just," Alistair starts. "Do you really want to take her along because her mother says so?"
Daylen raises an eyebrow. "We need all the help we can get."
Alistair frowns. "I guess you're right. The Grey Wardens have always taken allies where they could find them."
"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan coos, mock-sweetly.
"I have a few questions," Daylen says.
"I may have answers. Ask."
"What skills do you have, exactly?" he asks.
"I know a few spells, though I am nowhere near as powerful as Mother. I have also studied history. And your Grey Warden treaties."
"Can you cook?" Alistair interrupts.
"I..." Morrigan scowls, crossing her arms. "can cook, yes."
"Never mind him," Daylen says dismissively. "You don't have to cook."
Alistair sighs dramatically. "You missed your chance. Now it's charred rabbit from here on out."
"Farewell, mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."
"Bah. 'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."
"I... all I meant was..."
"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear."
It's ironic, Avina thinks, that after Alistair's templar training he should accompany three apostates, them being his only surviving companions.
She wonders what he thinks about it. From what she's seen, she can already tell that he and Morrigan don't like each other. He silently glares as Morrigan points out deathroot and elfroot and other useful herbs, and she makes nasty comments about his intelligence.
The opposite seems to be true with Daylen. He listens intently as Morrigan gives him tips for avoiding darkspawn, and she compliments his abilities. Morrigan all but avoids Avina, but at this point Avina is glad. She's hardly in the mood to talk, especially to her.
They've traveled only a few miles, through the Wilds and onto the Imperial Highway when Alistair starts to tense, occasionally looking over his shoulder.
Then, a brown splotch rushes towards them, almost invisible with speed, right up to Avina. At first, she thinks it might be a small bear and draws her staff.
It stops before her, and she finally recognizes him.
She grins, sighing in relief as she looks at the mabari, bending over slightly to let him sniff at her hand. He doesn't seem interested, barking excitedly and jumping around. Then the dog whirls around, his ears flatten against his skull as a growl bursts from his chest.
Alistair gives a small cry of 'darkspawn!' And Morrigan laughs loudly, ready and eager for battle. The leader of the monsters looks directly at Avina, and as she watches, slowly drags his thumb across his throat.
Her eyes widen.
It's not easy, using mana now. She hasn't yet recovered from the attack at the tower, but Morrigan, Daylen, Alistair, and the dog and all incredible fighters. The dog is fast, all sharp teeth and hard muscle; his attacks distract and even kill the attacking darkspawn. With the dog on one side and Alistair on the other, the creatures have nowhere to run.
When it's over, the dog climbs over the corpses to stand before her, his fur stained with blood. He wags his tail and pants.
She can't help but smile. "They didn't hurt you, did they, boy?"
He barks once and wags his tail. She takes that as a no.
"I think he was out there looking for you," Alistair tells her. "He's... chosen you. Mabari are like that. They call it imprinting."
Morrigan scowls. "Does this mean we're going to have this mangy beast following us about now? Wonderful."
"He's not mangy," Alistair argues.
Avina almost doesn't hear them. Grinning, she ruffles the dog's ears as his tongue lolls out to the side.
Eyes shining, she turns to Alistair. "I'm going to name him Griffon," she announces.
Griffon barks happily, wagging his stubby tail.
Tel'abelas.
Next chapter: Lothering.