23. The Korcari Wilds
It took about twenty minutes out in the Korcari Wilds for Finian to realize that he was out of his league.
He'd been a passing decent fighter, for an Alienage elf. His mother had taught him dual-wielding, and he'd practiced in secret after her death to keep his skills sharp. It had come in handy during the whole Bann Vaughan fiasco, and in the days since, while fighting off bandits and wild animals on the road. Suffice to say, he knew his way around the pointy end of a dagger, which was more than most city elves could say.
But the thing was, he had nothing on some of the powerhouses he now fought alongside.
"Take out the archers!" Marnan cried, her war-axe a blur of whirling death around her. She hacked at the knees of darkspawn twice her size, creating a pile of tumbled creatures surrounding her. A pile that Ser Jory was quick to take advantage of with that greatsword of his. The way the knight wielded that thing, he made cutting limbs from bodies look as easy as cutting up a carrot for dinner.
Marnan seemed to slip into the leading roll by default: when they set out from camp, she had taken the rank of their party directly behind Meila's lead, putting Marnan next to Alistair (who, by contrast, had been grumbling that he hated being in front). Obviously, she had experience fighting darkspawn… something to do with being a dwarf, Finian understood. He couldn't guess at the details, though. His education wasn't that great.
Ser Jory did not have the experience, obviously. He was a prototypical warrior: all muscle power and not much by way of brains. Finian's first meeting with the guy had involved him saying something obvious about Finian being an elf, and then bumbling through a sideways apology while said elf simply looked on, amused.
"Do not order me around," Meila cried in response to Marnan's command, even as she hopped nimbly onto a rock and raised her bow. The draw and release was a smooth, single motion… and then one of the hurlock archers on the ridge above them suddenly had an arrow sticking out of its eye.
When they'd left the Ostagar camp, the Dalish elf had led them through the wilds with the sure feet of someone familiar with one's surroundings… far more so than Daveth had been. Finian still couldn't shake his wonder at that thought… a Dalish elf. Meila was a real, living Dalish elf. All the things he'd wondered about his heritage over the years… all the times he'd wondered what it would be like to live away from the shems… He had so many questions he wanted—needed!—to ask her.
But now, hip-deep in a darkspawn ambush as they were, was obviously not the time.
"Nice shot, elf!" Daveth crowed as a second of Meila's arrows struck home. He was on a small ridge nearby, shooting at the same group she was. Finian noticed a genlock sneaking up behind his fellow thief, but a shadow moved and then Garott was on its back. The dwarf buried his hand-axe in the back of the genlock's neck while his dagger flitted around to the creature's vital points. The monster fell without Daveth ever noticing the scuffle right behind him, and Garott ducked off into the bushes and disappeared again.
Finian wasn't sure how to react to Garott Brosca. The dwarf had proven himself exceptionally keen when he'd called Finian out on his silver tongue within mere minutes of meeting him. Fin still wasn't sure how to feel about that. The insinuation that Fin played his word games purely for his own benefit… it couldn't be true. Could it?
Finian dodged a charging hurlock, and resolved not to dwell on it right now.
They had been ambushed from all sides while in the bottom of a wide gully, with darkspawn shooting from the ridge above and coming at them from both ends of the ravine.
The swamp made footing treacherous (and wet), so Finian had to be careful as he moved around the crowd of darkspawn circling Percival. He picked off a hurlock by stabbing it in the side, and but it grabbed his arm and yanked him down as it fell. Finian landed on top of the dying darkspawn and kicked out at the snarling thing, getting out of its reach. He rolled back to his feet, now coated with swamp sludge.
"Ow!" Alistair's voice called from ahead. "Why do they keep attacking me?"
"Perhaps because you present a strategic disadvantage on their part with your current placement."
"…is that magey talk for 'I'm in their way'?" Alistair had placed himself in the center of one of the ravine outlets, blocking any darkspawn who thought to come through that way. For all his complaining about being in front, he seemed content to form the solid shield that protected the rest of the party from oncoming threats.
Overall, Finian liked Alistair. The man had a healthy sense of humor that Finian rather enjoyed using as a springboard for his own. If given the chance, he suspected the two of them might devolve into an endless cycle of purportedly witty banter that would only stop when someone cut out one of their tongues.
Felicity was right behind the ex-Templar, using him rather shamelessly as a living shield. Occasionally, she ducked around him to fire a bolt of light at an incoming enemy, but she then flitted behind him just as quickly again.
As Finian watched, Alistair took a nasty stab to the armpit from a hurlock's sword. Felicity simply reached in and put a hand on his shoulder, and blood stopped flowing from the wound.
"That is quite handy…" Alistair said as he bashed his shield into the creature that had stabbed him. "You mages are all right. I think I'll keep you around."
"I am glad you approve," Felicity said with some amusement.
Felicity, too, Finian liked, in an amusing sort of way. The mage was curious and talkative, not unlike Finian himself. The difference, of course, was that Felicity had spent her entire life studying hundreds of dusty old tomes, and all that book-learning seemed to just tumble out of her at the slightest provocation. When Alistair's tour had run into her, Finian had made the mistake of asking her about the potion she had been in the process of mixing. The ensuing lecture on the history of rock salve and its varying nontraditional uses had been utterly exhausting, though he'd tried to remain polite and attentive. Alistair had been holding back laughter during the whole thing.
A growl sounded behind Fin, and he spun away from a genlock that had snuck up on him. It waved a serrated broadsword viciously at Fin, and he, with his little daggers, could only jump back and hope the genlock stopped swinging long enough to give him an opening.
It proved unnecessary, however, when Hugo went barreling into the genlock from the side, taking it down in a blur of teeth and pure canine muscle. Fin grinned and saluted the hound, silently promising him lots more games of fetch in the future.
While Alistair, Jory, and Marnan seemed to have the ones who came from ahead under control, it was up to Finian, Percival, and the dog to stop the stream of monsters behind them from coming through.
Percival in battle was… a little scary, to be honest. Finian was fighting close enough to him to see the dark, heated expression on his face as his sword danced around him. The sword was a deadly piece of work, wielded with a strange mix of easy skill and unrelenting brutality. But it was the dark intensity that glittered in the noble's eyes that discomfited the elf… and intrigued him. Percival was… dangerous. It made something in him flutter.
Finian, all the while, flitted around among Percival's opponents, doling out backstabs and cheap shots with his daggers wherever possible, and then dodged out of range before any of the creatures could retaliate. Again, he was competent.. but nowhere near the courage and skills of his soon-to-be comrades.
Finian snuck behind a pair of genlocks who were heading for Percival. The elf stabbed first one, then the other in the back. The first stumbled and fell, but the other turned and brandished a mace at the elf. Finian was too slow, and took a stinging blow in the side that had him stumbling sideways... right into a massive hurlock a head taller than him.
The hurlock growled, and Finian could smell its rancid breath. He attempted to scramble away, only to be blocked in by the genlock. The hurlock swung its massive hammer at Finian, and he dropped to the ground on reflex, feeling the wind of the hammer sail over him.
Then, the air above him cracked and flashed, and Finian looked up to see both darkspawn that had been menacing him twitching and falling as lightning raced over their forms. Nearby, he heard an exhilarated whoop.
For all that collective prowess among the other recruits, it was nothing… nothing… compared to the walking apocalypse that was Kazar Surana.
He was laughing now, standing safely in the center of the melee fighters, despite the fact that most of the darkspawn seemed to want to get past the sturdier members to go after him. Finian couldn't say he blamed the darkspawn for that: as soon as the ambush had made itself known, the other fighters had drawn their weapons and waited. Kazar, however, had raised his hands and shot a chain of fireballs up at the archers above them, decimating most of them instantly in a fiery explosion.
Even now, lightning bolts danced across the battle, instantly scorching unsuspecting enemies mid-charge. More explosions rocked the air while Kazar blasted any darkspawn who clustered at the choke points on both ends of the ravine. The most destructive elements of nature danced at his fingertips, then swept forward to do his bidding. All the while, he laughed, apparently having the time of his life.
Kazar Surana confused Finian a little, just because he'd never run into anyone who had so very little care for what others thought of him. Well, except maybe Bann Vaughan, but that was another case of someone who confused him. At least Kazar was a predictable sort of confusing… arrogant, self-absorbed, and with a bit of a violent side.
A violent side evidenced by the glee with which he spun and charbroiled a trio of darkspawn menacing Marnan. Finian could only thank their lucky stars that the mage was on their side, climb to his feet, and dive back into the melee.
Finally, the last of the attackers fell to Meila's arrows, and everyone sighed in relief.
Alistair knelt and wiped his blade off on the grass. As he did so, he turned a raised eyebrow at Kazar. "Just so you know: that laughing thing? Very creepy."
The elven mage was… grinning. At Alistair. That was a new development. "You know us mages, going mad with power and everything. I'm sure it's nothing your Templar training couldn't handle."
"Uh… yeah, sure. That was all completely within my capabilities as a Templar-in-training. Right."
"Order up!" Garott called, juggling a vial of black liquid in one hand. "Who wants some liquid Taint?"
"Ooh, I'll call dibs on that one" Daveth said, pausing in pulling an arrow out of a darkspawn chestplate. He deftly caught the vial when it was tossed to him.
Garott knelt back down and started extracting more from one of the corpses, careful not to let the black ooze touch his fingers… he seemed the only one willing to risk touching the stuff.
Finian noticed Meila swaying where she stood, but when she noticed him watching, she only gave him an intimidating glare and turned away.
Hugo emerged out of the foliage and plodded up to the group, hacking and coughing. The darkspawn's black blood coated his muzzle. Percival immediately rushed to his hound's side and knelt, inspecting his dog's snout with drawn features.
"Oh no…" Felicity hurried over to stand next to the Highever duo, peering down at the dog as well. "It looks like he swallowed darkspawn blood."
"Can he be healed?" Percival asked grimly… it was the first time he'd spoken in front of the other recruits. Finian saw many of them startle at the sound of the noble's cultured voice.
Felicity, however, was all business. "Not unless he can be made a Grey Warden. However… there is a chance he might survive the Taint. It works differently on animals than it does on people. If he survives it, he'll be immune to it, just like a Grey Warden. But… it's a painful process all the same." Felicity glanced over at Meila, who merely pursed her lips.
"Actually," Garott said, tossing a third vial of blood on the ground next to him, "wasn't the kennel master offering a reward for some flower out here, to help cure the sick dogs?"
"Oh, right!" Felicity cried. "White with a red center, he'd said."
"I have seen such flowers," Meila said. "Though I do not approve of this… enslaved wolf being forced to fight alongside us, he fights too bravely to allow him to come to harm."
Hugo quirked his head at Meila, then let out a bark that quickly turned into a whine.
"That's decided, then," Alistair said. "One more thing to do, on our jolly jaunt through the creepy swamp."
Finian smiled at Alistair. "At least we have all the darkspawn blood we need."
"And then some." Garott stood, a pile of vials in his arms. "I wonder if I could coat my weapons with this stuff. There's sure as the Stone enough supply."
Marnan's eyes narrowed at him. "You would poison your weapons?"
"Every advantage helps, princess."
"Stop calling me that!"
Finian sensed an old argument there, and sought to diffuse it before it came to blows… he wouldn't put it past either of them. "Well, considering we're fighting the darkspawn, Garott, I don't think tainting your weapons would really do much. For all we know, it might make them stronger. Imagine, you stab a hurlock, and the wound heals right back up as soon as you remove the dagger."
Garott cast him a suspicious eye, but then smirked. "You make a good point, elf."
Hugo hacked loudly, and everyone winced, Percy worst of all.
"A bit unnerving, isn't it?" Ser Jory muttered. "First the Dalish elf, then the dog. Any one of us could be next."
"Do not speak of me as if I am already lost, shemlen."
"Even if any of us did catch the Taint," Felicity said matter-of-factly, standing up, "we will be taking our Joining tonight. I assume, Alistair, that the ritual has something to do with Taint immunity?"
The Warden nodded. Meanwhile, Garott passed by and pushed a vial into Finian's hands. The elf stored it in his pouch.
"In that case, even if we did get ill, the chances of dying that quickly of the Taint are small. Rather, you'd merely be in awful pain for a couple hours. First, there would be an itchy sensation, like insects under the skin. Then, a burning sensation, followed by trembling and weakness. Now, if you were to decay to the point of the hallucinations, it may be problematic to partake in the ritual, as I understand the visions can be quite horrific, judging by all the screaming and thrashing victims exhibit-"
"Please stop," Jory said weakly. "Just… stop. Please."
"I think what the lady mage is trying to say, Ser Knight," Daveth said with some amusement, "is don't catch the Taint. Easy as that, right?"
Hugo coughed again, as if to drive the point home that it was not, in fact, as easy as that.
"Come," Meila said. "There should be a cluster of the flowers this way." She turned and started off through the woods. With a shrug at the others, Finian turned and followed after her. He heard the rest fall into step behind him.
It took ten minutes of winding through the swamp to find the indicated flower, during which time a pack of wolves thought Felicity would make a nice snack. A couple thwacks on the nose and a blast of lightning from the resident thundercloud made them think otherwise.
Finally, they emerged from the trees into a relatively dry clearing, overlooking a tower that had long since sunken in the swamp. A fallen log sat at the edge of the mire, surrounded by a cluster of white flowers with red centers.
"There, see?" Meila said, stowing her bow. She bent down to pluck one, then froze, her face going white.
Finian wasn't the only one to rush forward. Alistair, who had been right behind him, got there first, catching the elf as she collapsed. Carefully, the Warden lowered the Dalish elf to the ground, and Felicity pushed through the clustered recruits to kneel down next to her.
Meila's face was tight with pain, her eyes glazed even as she stared stubbornly forward. Her mouth was pressed tightly shut, as if afraid she might scream if she opened it. Her hands, meanwhile, clutched at her bared midriff, nails curling to dig into her own skin.
"She's succumbing," Felicity said, yanking off her pack and digging through it. She pulled out a small clay pot and popped off the stopper. "Oh, someone stop her from scratching herself!"
Finian did so, leaping forward to grab the other elf's hands as they started to draw trails of blood.
"I warned Duncan that this would happen," Marnan's voice said irritably from behind them.
"You warned him that the dog would get sick," Kazar said, "so then we'd go looking for some magic flower to heal it, and then she'd keel over while picking it?"
"That'd have been impressive, it would," Daveth chuckled.
Felicity spread the salve in the pot onto Meila's bare stomach, and the pain on the Dalish elf's face eased. She blinked, her eyes coming into focus.
"Abelas… I apologize," Meila gasped tightly. "I seem to have fallen…"
"This is just a temporary salve," Felicity said. "It eases the pain, but not the symptoms. Meila, we must get you back to camp."
The Dalish elf fought against Alistair's and Finian's grips, breaking away from them and pushing into a sitting position. Her hand, Finian noticed, clutched at her leather breastplate, just above her heart. "The mission is not complete. Vir Assan; I must not waver."
"If you continue on," Marnan said flatly, "you will not make it back at all."
"So be it." Meila attempted to stand, but her legs did not seem to want to hold her. Felicity reached out to support her. "If that is to be my path, then I will walk it with pride."
Once again, Finian was a little awed. Was this the strength of the Dalish he'd heard so much about? Had all elves been like this, once?
Man, had the Alienage elves fallen a long way, and Fin was no exception to that.
"All of us don't really need to look for the scrolls anyway," Finian said.
That caught more than just Meila's attention.
At their curious looks, he shrugged. "We've got what we need for the ritual, right? Now, we just need to get those scrolls… which I seem to recall Duncan tasking to Alistair, not to all of us."
"Wow, thanks," said junior Warden said dryly. "I do so love being left alone in the Korcari Wilds to die."
"Some of us would go with you, of course," Finian assured him. "But, honestly, we'd probably pass through the woods easier if there were fewer of us." He turned back to the Dalish elf for confirmation. "Right?"
"That is… correct." Meila looked reluctant to admit it. She winced and brought a hand to her chest. "And I suppose I would only slow you down."
"I'll come back with you," Felicity said to the elf leaning against her. "I know a very talented healer in camp… if anyone can stave off the Taint until the Joining, it will be her."
"Hugo," Percival's voice said softly. "You go with them as well."
The dog's head was hanging low at this point, but he raised it to Percy and let out an anxious whine.
"I'll be fine. Just be a good boy and let the kennel master treat you." Percy turned a furrowed brow to Felicity. "You will see him safely to the kennels, I hope?"
"Of course."
"I… will go back to camp as well," Ser Jory said, shifting uncomfortably. "The women will need an escort, after all, in case of darkspawn attacks."
Kazar snorted. "That, and you're afraid of the forest."
Ser Jory frowned at the mage. "That's not fair… not all of us can shoot lightning out of our fingers. I'm just being realistic, here. They will need protection, and I am ready to be done with this particular test. There is nothing wrong with that."
"Well, I, for one," Marnan said, "would like to continue on to fetch the treaties. I am quite curious as to what potential allies they concern."
"Same here," Daveth said. "You don't suppose the ancient Grey Wardens were lucky enough to treat with high dragons, do you? That'd be a nice twist, right there."
Finian chuckled. "What, summoning an army of high dragons to take out the darkspawn?"
"Would be something to see, wouldn't it?"
"Sure, right before they ate all of us whole."
"Good way to die, though," Alistair put in. "Lots of people die from battle and disease, but how many ghosts can come back and say they were eaten by a dragon?"
"We'd be the envy of all the ghosts, we would." All three laughed.
Garott snorted, staring at the three of them incredulously. "This is going to be a loooong journey."
"We'd better be off," Felicity said.
Meila winced as the mage helped her walk. "The ruin you are looking for is south-east of here," the Dalish said, "on a hill just past the sunken dome. It has many statues in front of it, so I hope that even you shemlen would be able to identify it."
"Ah," Alistair sighed wistfully, "the insults to our collective intelligence. I missed those."
Meila just scowled at the blond and allowed herself to be walked off. Ser Jory nodded and followed, attentively keeping an eye on the forest around them. With a last whimper and wag of his tail, Hugo trailed after them, though he kept pausing to look back at Percival… as if to check that his master was still all right.
That left seven of them, standing on the edge of the bog.
"So…" Alistair started, looking around. "Southeast is…"
Daveth pointed, chuckling.
"Right. I knew that." Alistair started off, and Marnan fell into step beside him.
Finian found himself walking in second rank, next to Garott. The dwarf smirked up at him. "Nice work," he rumbled, too softly for any of the others to hear.
"What do you mean?" he asked casually, though he had a feeling he knew what this was about.
"The Dalish elf. Changed her tune like a minstrel on a lute. I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted."
Finian swallowed. He didn't like being confronted about this… not by a stranger. For the second time, he said, "I just want everyone to get along."
"If that's what you gotta tell yourself to help you sleep at night, go ahead." The dwarf's grin was dark, the shadows of the canopy playing across his face. "But me? I know different. If you ever want to fess up and admit what a smarmy, silver-tongued little bastard you are, I'll be all ears."
Finian didn't say anything else for a good long while.