Well, this chapter was going to be longer, but it started feeling forced, so I figured I'd end it where I did. My thanks, as always, to those who continue to read and review, to those new readers and reviewers, and for the alerts and lurkers. Legionary Prime, Shakespira, cloud1004, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Wyl – thank you for your reviews.
The Halla Reborn
Chapter 64
The dwarven merchant stared beyond his stall, unable to fully comprehend his good fortune as he watched the elven girl walk away, wandering over to the stalls to listen in on gossip and question the vendors. However, he knew he was correct in his assertion that the girl was, in fact, the Grey Warden. Serena's description had been quite accurate.
A small, nostalgias smile crossed his lips as he thought how very like his princess – nay, his Queen – to be so detailed.
Turning quickly, Gorim pulled out a slip of paper, upon which had been penned an order for a dagger inscribed with the Sword of Mercy. Whistling over to one of the nearby boys, who had been loitering about, waiting a chance to earn a copper or two from the vendors, he carefully folded the receipt before handing it off to the boy, sending him off to the Chantry with instructions that the receipt be given to Mother Boann.
DA:O
The elven woman glared at the door, her arms laden with her mistress's evening meal. The tension within the palace had worsened over the weeks. Erlina had tried to keep Anora safe, well away from the leering eyes of Howe, the passive hostility of the Chancellor. Anora had questioned her maid servant repeatedly about the goings on at the palace. And all Erlina would do was shake her pretty head and deny any knowledge to the queen.
Trained as she was in subterfuge and duplicity, even the elven bard found the entire drama she was mired within wearing at times.
No longer did she know, truly, which side of the board she played. Carefully she balanced the tray to open the door that lead into the massive set of suites set aside for the queen's use.
The bard no longer cared which side she was allied to. Things had spiraled well out of control, and even her handlers were uncertain which direction to send her in. And so, had remained silent, leaving the bardic trained elf to her own devices.
Bâtards.
Carefully she tipped the door closed with a brush of one hip, carrying the tray full of food she was certain Anora would not eat to the nearby table. As she set up the service, she called out to the queen, all servile niceties having long since been set aside during the sequestering of the Queen of Ferelden.
The elf paused in her movements, frowning and straightening, turning to gaze about the chambers.
Anora had not answered the elf's call, and that immediately set the well trained bard on edge.
She had already made her presence within the chambers known. And so silence would no longer be her ally here. She again called out Anora's name, standing in the room's center, almond shaped eyes narrowed at the door which led to the queen's private chamber. Cautiously, the elf moved from room to room, keeping the doors open behind her as she sought out the queen.
There was no answering call, no queenly form to greet her eyes.
Anora was not in her chambers.
Immediate and intense panic threatened to sweep over the elf, and she viciously forced it down, using every ounce of her training to regain calm.
Just one more wrench thrown into the works.
The elf groaned, scowling down at the service, her quick mind working through the events of the day, trying to retrace her steps, and recreate what she assumed would be Anora's.
She had left the queen mere hours before, Anora claiming a migraine and the need for rest. Erlina knew that Anora had been ill of late, having suffered greatly from migraines that would assault her without warning. Knowing those that conspired against the rightful ruler of Ferelden, Erlina had scouted out the queen's chambers, certain that the human woman was being poisoned.
The bard was uncertain how she could be. The elf had taken up the duty of preparing and serving the queen her meals months before when the first of her migraines had occurred. And those meals not served within her chambers were taken with others, none of whom had exhibited any signs of illness.
Unless someone was poisoning her plate directly.
She was not willing at this juncture to admit that perhaps the queen's maladies were natural in cause. And so she had spent that day, apart from Anora, searching out every cubby and shelf of the kitchens and adjoining rooms of the kitchen staff, certain to locate the poison being used.
It was with little surprise that she had found nothing.
Swiftly she turned about, stalking from the rooms, trying to work through how she would learn of the queen's location.
Elissa, the spoiled noblewoman, would be of no help. The arrogant shem looked down her regal nose at the elven bard – the queen's servant – at every opportunity, scarcely belittling herself to even acknowledge the elven woman's presence.
There would be no answers forthcoming there.
She had long since been cast from Arawn's inner circle, her role as the queen's maid servant subsuming any previous role she had played in the mage's play for power. And Howe would certainly not talk. He was too close to Arawn and would scarce risk his own fate by discussing things he would not be at liberty to.
And Cauthrien…the woman's hatred of elves was well known.
Her firm strides faltered, and she skipped a step, stumbling slightly. She paused, her eyes turning back toward the eastern wing. She knew someone who may well have at least an answer for her.
And that someone still felt beholden to the elven bard.
DA:O
The Wardens and their companions had continued to keep themselves busy. Leliana had a solid lead on a group of Warden sympathizers, and, with the assistance of Zevran, the pair of rogues were following any and all leads. Their hope was to meet up with a representative of the organization.
Adela, Roland, Natia and Wynne were back out, scouring the market place for information. Alistair had become increasingly agitated and so Adela decided to leave him behind, uncertain where the agitation originated from, but guessing that Arl Eamon's constant suggestion of his taking the throne having something to do with it.
It was a guess, the only one she could come up with. Alistair refused to speak with her about whatever it was that was bothering him.
They had spent the morning speaking with the vendors, tavern patrons, and market goers. Wynne had once again made the short walk to the Chantry, chatting up the Templars and the few priests that roamed the grounds. All they got for their efforts were the same as they had previously: people were worried. Some were looking for someone – anyone – to blame, and Loghain's name came up in harsh whispers as often as had Howe's, the new Arl of Denerim. Of course talks of the civil war, the darkspawn and the potential Blight were always found upon the denizens' of the city lips.
Adela led the other three back to the Arl's townhouse beneath the tumultuous gray skies, emotionally weary, mentally torn, hoping that Leliana and Zevran had managed to glean more information about the sympathizers, for she had no idea where next to go.
Ignoring the servants as she trudged up the stairs that led to the living quarters, Adela paused, lifting her head. Motioning the others to continue on, she turned at the top of the stairs, heading toward the large sitting room that was originally part of the Arl's living quarters but now was being used by the Wardens as their conference room.
It was a comfortable room, lined with book shelves containing various tomes of history, language, stories, poems, and the like. Comfortable chairs, couches and settees were central most of the chamber, and Adela, despite herself, found that she was impressed with the nobleman. Despite being married to an Orlesian noble, the furnishings of the modern townhome were comfortable and serviceable, rather than opulent, ostentatious and uncomfortable.
Alistair and Eamon both stood in the room, speaking with an unfamiliar elven woman with dark hair, dressed as a noble's servant. Upon her entering, Alistair's face – formerly solemn – split in a wide grin as he moved to greet his wife. Smiling up into his face, she then turned as the elven woman turned to meet her eyes.
Brown met blue, and the elven women acknowledged one another with a nod as Eamon spoke.
"Commander," the Arl greeted without preamble as he moved around the table to move closer to the Warden. "This young woman tells me that she has news…"
The elven woman did not wait for the Arl to finish. With great urgency, she surged forward, slim, soft hands grasping the calloused ones of the elven Warden. "The Queen is in grave danger and in need of your assistance!"
Chuckling slightly, Eamon shook his head. "Perhaps the young woman wishes to speak for herself."
Adela did not hear the Arl's words, her focus completely upon the other elf now. Anora was in danger…"What has happened?" Adela asked, tightening her grip upon the other woman's hands.
Taking a deep breath, the elf began again. "My name is Erlina. I am Queen Anora's servant," Adela's eyes narrowed slightly. She did not recognize Erlina or her name, but of course she had been gone for a year. And, there was no missing the heavy Orlesian accent. Nodding her head once, she urged the other to continue. Stuttering along, she carefully extricated her hands from Adela's firm grasp, wringing them in front of her as she paced.
"I went to bring Her Majesty her meal. When I arrived, she was gone." The elf shook her head as she turned to stare at the other woman, fear and concern in her deep brown eyes. "I searched the palace, only to learn that she was taken to Teyrn Howe's estates."
Howe. His name was coming up all too frequently. "At the Arl's of Denerim estates?" the Warden clarified, and Erlina nodded in earnest.
"Why would he take her there?" Alistair asked, frowning deeply at the woman. Eamon watched the exchange with great interest, his gray eyes betraying none of his thoughts.
Shaking her head, the elven servant turned to meet Alistair's eyes boldly. "I do not know," she said truthfully, frowning deeply. "But she is gone, the Arl is missing, as is a mage in the service of the Chancellor."
"I have heard little of this new Chancellor and have yet to meet the man," Eamon put in, frowning in thought as he brought a hand to rub at his beard. Turning his gray eyes to the elf, he asked, "What do you know of him?"
Taking a breath, the servant shook her dark head. "Little. His name is Arawn, and he is highly thought of by many of the nobles," Erlina lied smoothly. She did not want her part in the conspiracy to come to light, not at this time. Right now, they needed to get Anora away from Howe. Everything else was secondary.
Especially once she managed to secure an escape route for herself.
The bard knew she was walking on dangerous ground here, coming to the stronghold of the Wardens. However, she had become fond of the Queen and, with Arawn and the others carefully closing her out of the plot, she feared for her own safety. Saving Anora was the best and surest way to ensure her continued existence.
By helping the Wardens, she could do so.
DA:O
"I am not arguing with you about this, Alistair," Adela sighed again as she tugged on the servant's dress she borrowed from Gail. Despite the red head being taller than Adela, the dress fit fairly well, traveling down to her ankles rather than mid-calf. Fortunately, Gail was slender, so a little tucking was all that was required for it to fit around Adela's small body.
"Adela…" Alistair started, coming alongside the bed, staring down at his wife. "You need me there…"
Shaking her head, brushing down her skirts, Adela replied, "No. I need you here," she looked up. "If any of our allies show up while we're at this, we need a senior Warden – my Second – You here to meet them. If Leliana and Zev come up with any leads on the Warden sympathizers, they need you here to report to and direct their next move."
She was talking as she moved away toward the mirror, checking the heavy braids Gail had woven into her hair. Frowning, she brushed a stray lock aside, staring at her reflection.
"What if they recognize you?" Alistair asked, not giving up. If he wasn't going to accompany her, then she wasn't going…
"I am an elf," she said for perhaps the tenth time since Alistair began the argument, just minutes ago. "No one notices what an elf looks like. Especially a woman." She looked into Alistair's less than pleased face and frowned. "I don't like it, but that's the way things are. And, for now, it works in our favor."
"Send someone else," Alistair supplied, "Roland can lead. He's led teams before." He paused, looking down at her, "Although, given his animosity toward Howe, is he really the wise choice to bring?" He backed away from that argument at the glare his wife shot him, hands raised, palms forward, in surrender. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Send Natia…"
But Adela simply dismissed that argument with a shake of her head and wave of her hand. "Anora will need someone there that she knows and trusts. I don't like Erlina going with us at all. To be honest, I'm not certain I fully trust her. However, as Anora's personal servant, she may be able to wheedle out her location. And, if I'm not there, Anora may think that her servant is being coerced." Letting out a sigh, she looked back into her husband's face, brushing a small hand across his brow. "This is how it has to be, Alistair. Please do not make this more difficult by fighting me."
"Thought that was my job," he groused, surrendering his battle in the face of Adela's logic with a scowl.
A small chuckle escaped her lips. "No, it's not. Point out when you disagree: yes; come up with alternative plans: yes. But this," she waved a hand between the two of them, "constant back and forth, arguing for argument's sake: no." Relenting, she tucked herself against him, wrapping her arms about his waist. After a moment, Alistair returned the gesture. "In and out. We get in, get Anora, get out."
Nothing ever went that easy, especially not for this group. He knew Adela was merely trying to placate him, and it annoyed him even further. However, he knew he would not – could not – win this argument, and so Alistair merely nodded his head. Smiling up into his face, Adela softly said, "Thank you," as she extricated herself from his embrace.
"Niall and Oghren will be accompanying us. If what Erlina has told us as well as what I've heard on the street, Howe has been hiring in mercenaries, so Oghren won't stick out like a sore thumb. They can't wear their best armor, otherwise then they would stand out, so it's a good thing we've kept much of our older stuff."
She swept across the floor to pick up a shall, continuing to talk as she moved. "Niall has practiced and fought in light leather armor and will be wearing that. I'll have Roland's shield to protect me, Niall's magic to put me back together again as well as rend any opposition apart. And," she bent over, pulling up a pair of knives from each boot so she did not see the grimace that crossed Alistair's face. They were not her usual weapons – Fang and Duncan's Blade – but smaller, thinner blades that easily fit into the ankle sheaths that disappeared nicely within her low, soft boots. "I'll have some bite as well."
She looked up, seeing Alistair's frown back in place. "I don't like going in unarmored and nearly unarmed, especially without my bow. But, as an elf, I cannot go in as a guard member. As a servant, I'll be able to get into places the others won't be able to."
"Still don't like it," Alistair muttered as Adela rose and headed toward the door, draping the shall over her head and shoulders, Alistair directly behind her.
"I know, love, I know," she opened the door and marched out, heading to Eamon's sitting room where Roland, Niall and Oghren were to be waiting with Erlina. "I don't either. But, it's either this plan or no plan. And," she stopped, turning around so quickly that Alistair skidded to a halt as she poked him in his chest. "I am not about to leave Anora to further endure Howe's tender mercies."
"And we may need her help in the Landsmeet," Alistair muttered, echoing Eamon's words from earlier.
"If you want to look at it from a pragmatic view as espoused by our Arl Eamon, sure," she muttered as she spun on her heel. "But, I'm not. She's my friend; she's our queen. She's getting out."
DA:O
Alistair watched as Adela and the others left the townhouse, following closely behind the Orlesian elf. A heavy hand settled upon his shoulder and, startled, the young man turned to stare down into Arl Eamon's haggard features.
He sure has aged, the young man thought to himself, pity for the man who should have taken the role as his father flooding his head.
Smiling tiredly into Alistair's face, Eamon tugged on his shoulder, directing him back into the townhouse. "I know it is difficult to watch those you care for walk into danger, while you are left behind," the nobleman was saying as he continued to guide the warden indoors. "But, such is the life of those who safeguard others."
Huffing out a sigh, Alistair nodded. "I don't like her going off without me to protect her."
Nodding, Eamon directed the other man into a small study to the side of the hall, moving with tired grace to the sidebar. "And such is but one of the burdens shouldered by men who love strong women."
Picking up a decanter of brandy, he waved it to the other man, who raised a hand and shook his head. With a slight shrug, Eamon poured himself a finger, and swirled the thick, amber liquid. "Roland seems quite capable of watching over her," he said over his glass before taking a sip, his gray eyes carefully scrutinizing Alistair's reaction.
Alistair cringed slightly, saying "Roland is a good man." And Eamon smiled as he sipped his drink with an agreeing nod
DA:O
Getting into the estate had been easier than the elven warden had thought it would be. A pair of guards at the front door were easily distracted by an inconsolable Erlina, declaring she had seen something by the well. Adela had not missed the lecherous looks the pair had exchanged when trying to calm the pretty elf down, and felt a twinge of guilt allowing the servant to lead the armed guards away as she and her companions slipped in. She did not allow herself to worry overmuch for the other elf, however. Something about the woman's manner told the warden that Erlina was more than capable of handling a pair of lecherous humans. They waited mere minutes before the queen's servant returned, grumbling about how difficult it had been to give the men the slip.
Fortunately, Oghren had kept his mouth shut during the elven servant's tirade. Adela did not want to hear anything associated with 'slip'.
Adela had expected to feel, at the very least, apprehension at being back within the estate. Here, she had lost friends; here she had experienced an assault upon her that had changed her; and it was here that Nelaros, the man she was to have married, came and died trying to free and protect her. And while these thoughts and memories brought a great deal of sadness to her, she found that she had no difficulty walking the hallways, peeking into doors that were set ajar.
It was almost as though the occurrence of a year ago – an event that had set into motion her being conscripted into the Grey Wardens and now saw her once again revisiting the place – had happened to someone else.
For, under the sad weight of the memories, all she felt was a slight sense of dread as she recalled the blood-spattered walls and floors, carpets soaking the fluids, spreading the ichor; but more predominantly concern for Anora overrode any bad memories.
If she took the time to reflect, she may have thought she was over those events from so long ago. If she took the time to be honest with herself, she'd realize that she had merely been avoiding them.
"Here!" Erlina called eagerly, breaking the warden from her musings. With a glance to Roland, Adela stepped forward, rushing to the Orlesian elf's side as she stood before a door. Adela found herself wondering how the Orlesian knew that this was, indeed, the correct door.
"Careful," Niall warned as he joined the ground, his face drawn with concern and concentration, shifting his shoulders beneath the light leather of his armor. "The door is warded with magic."
"Great ruddy luck!" Oghren swore, kicking the doorstop, muttering on about sodding human lords and their sodding mages.
"Your Majesty?" Erlina called softly against the door, pushing her hip to it.
"Erlina?" Called a voice so very familiar – so very welcome – to Adela's ears.
"Yes, Your Majesty," the Orlesian replied, relief evident in her voice. "I have brought help."
There was a moment of silence before Anora replied. "Who have you brought, Erlina?" There was a hesitance in Anora's voice that Adela did not recognize. And she was certain there was a bit of fear there as well.
"Anora," Adela gently moved Erlina back as she took her position by the door. "It's me, Adela."
"Adela?" Anora's voice was breathless, and the doorknob shook and the door rattled as the queen tried, unsuccessfully, to open it. "Is it really you?"
Chuckling and nodding, Adela responded, "It is, Anora." The elf sighed her relief. "I am so glad that you are alright."
"Alright being relative," Came Anora's caustic response, to which Adela only chuckled more. "Do you have a means of opening this door?"
"The mage maintaining it has to be close by," Niall offered as he stepped closer to the door, examining it now with scholarly curiosity. "He, or she, must be somewhere in the estate."
Erlina was silent for a moment, frowning in thought. "I think I know who the mage is," she offered after a moment. Turning, she faced the Wardens. "And it is a 'he'."
Frowning at the other elf, Adela turned back to the door. "Anora, we believe that the mage maintaining the ward is still within the estate," she paused, letting it sink it before continuing. "We'll need to search him out and have him drop it. Will you be alright?"
There was a strained laugh before the queen answered, "Adela, I've been cooped up here for over a day. All alone, might I add. I believe I shall be well enough. Please…," there was a slight pause followed by a breathlessly offered word, "hurry."
Adela leaned on the door, her hand pressed against the solid wood. To know that her friend was so close, and still be unable to free her…sighing, she pushed herself straight.
"Erlina," Adela turned to the other elf. "You wait here. Try and remain unseen," she smirked as the other elf quirked a brow at her. "Well, do the best you can. We've no idea what resistance we'll be facing, and I think that you will probably be safer here than with us."
The other elf nodded a frown upon her pretty face. "You may find the Teyrn in his quarters," she gave a shrug as she glanced over at Adela, carefully avoiding looking into her blue eyes. "They are right down the hall." She pointed to her right, turning her head slightly as she did so.
Blue eyes bore into the Orlesian elf's head, searching the side of her face visible from her current position. "The living quarters are on the second level," the Denerim elf said after a moment, frowning heavily.
With a sigh and slight shrug, Erlina turned to look at the blonde elf. "Yes, they are. However," she paled slightly, her voice catching and softening slightly. "When the new Arl – Teyrn Howe – claimed the estate, he moved his quarters down the hall." She looked earnestly into Adela's face, wishing her to simply believe she had the knowledge, realize that time was of the essence and to not ask any further questions. "You will…see why when you get there."
Not liking that the elven servant seemed to have intimate knowledge of the arrangements within the Denerim estate, Adela opened her mouth to further question the woman. Her question died in her throat as Oghren nudged her in the side.
"Wish you was wearing some armor, lass," Oghren scowled, his eyes going to her boots. "An' carryin' something better'n those little pins you've gots there."
"Stop channeling Alistair," Adela muttered as she turned away from Erlina, raising a hand in warning to Roland who, she knew, was going to add his own voice to the topic. "Maybe we'll stumble upon some armor and weapons as we search out the mage. But," she frowned at the others. "I'd still like to maintain the illusion that we're supposed to be here. At least for as long as possible."
"Gotcha, lass," Oghren nodded, jabbing Roland in the side before the knight could protest further. Niall merely nodded, waiting as the elf gave her final assurances to the queen before leading them down the hallway.
DA:O
She recognized the room that Howe had claimed as his own. It was, of course, differently furnished than it had been when last she had seen the accursed place, but she recognized it, nonetheless.
The room she had found Shianni and the others in, beaten and assaulted. Then, it had couches and settees, wall hangings and rugs before the massive fireplace. Where Shianni…
She viciously shook her head, turning away from the fireplace, looking at the sitting room that had been transformed into a bedchamber. Couches and settees remained, but now a massive, four poster bed dominated the far corner of the room.
Right by an iron bound door.
Frowning, the elven rogue stepped to the door, turning the knob to find it locked. With a twitch of an eyebrow, she crouched down, her sharp eyes and skillful fingers searching the mechanism first for traps and then for the tumblers. Soon, the door clicked open, revealing a set of stairs leading down.
Down into the cellars.
As she had been working on the door, Oghren and Roland searched the room. There were many feminine articles mixed among the masculine items – an ivory hairbrush and matching hand mirror, a bottle of fine Orlesian perfume - however it was obvious that this room was not used regularly. The sole wardrobe contained items of clothing, but all of which were sleeping apparel – both male and female.
"Down into the dank," Niall said quietly, his brown eyes scanning the length of the stairs visible in the dim light before vanishing into the darkness.
"Sounds like fun," Adela muttered, turning to the others and motioning them forward.
DA:O
The former prisoner stood, adjusting his stolen armor as he faced the group. Even her dulled senses could pick up on the taint – heavy, black and foreboding – within the man. He was a Grey Warden, and had been one for many years.
Dark brown eyes lifted, a smile crossing his rugged face. "Thank you for the distraction," he said in a voice marked by an Orlesian accent. "I have been awaiting the opportunity to do that for some time."
"How long have you been a prisoner, brother?" Adela asked, glancing down at the guard, his head askance at an odd angle, evident of a broken neck.
The Grey Warden merely shrugged his shoulders, a questioning look upon his face as he looked at Adela, "After a while, time rather melted away. Days? Weeks? Certainly not months."
There was an almost rambling quality to the Grey Warden's speech, and Adela smiled gently up at the tall human. Seeming to catch himself, the Orlesian Grey Warden shook his head, the ragged ends of his long, dark hair skimming along his shoulders. "Sorry. It has been far too long since I have spoken and someone has answered, I could well ramble away." Smiling pleasantly, he bowed deeply at the waist, one hand in front, the other to his back. "I am Riordan. Grey Warden of Jader."
Smiling back, Adela introduced herself and the others, and Riordan's eyes went to each as she introduced them. Niall stepped from the back, casting healing and rejuvenating spells upon the Grey Warden as Adela introduced him. With an appreciative expression, Riordan turned back to the elf, and asked, "So, you are Adela Tabris," Adela nodded. "I received a missive from Duncan about you. He seemed rather pleased to have initiated you into our ranks. I see his pride was well founded." He stepped closer, staring into the young elf's face. There was confusion, and Adela was certain she knew the source. However, he chose not to question her at this time, and she was grateful. Later, she knew, he would ask. For now, they had other matters to attend.
Adela shifted under his intense scrutiny. Behind her Niall chuckled a little. Catching herself, she thrust into Riordan's hands the papers they had found in one of the chests from the upstairs chamber. "We found these upstairs," she gestured to the packet as Riordan worked the ties. "Grey Warden code. I haven't had the chance to decipher them yet."
Riordan nodded as he worked the ties, opening the packet for a moment before nodding once more and retying the packet. He handed these back to Adela. "These were taken from me by Howe when I was captured." There as a bit of embarrassment to his heavy voice. "I had found these at Ostagar."
Frowning at that, Adela glanced back at the packet in his large hands. "I thought we had retrieved all of Duncan's documents?" she whispered, her mind going back to the chest at the decimated Grey Warden camp, contaminated with the taint of the darkspawn, diseased and dead.
"So…that was your handiwork?" Adela raised her head to dark, admiring eyes. "Nicely done. Anyone who can get passed a lock and trap set by Duncan is certainly worthy of praise." He chuckled at the deepening flush upon the pretty elf's face at such praise. "These, however, were not found at the Grey Warden compound, but upon the body of an emissary I dispatched while I was at Ostagar." His dark eyes rested upon the documents. "These are mostly a roll call of the wardens present at Ostagar, as well as a personal note or two..."
"How many Grey Wardens will be coming to aid us?" Roland cut in from behind Adela, almost certain the Grey Warden would begin rambling again.
Riordan's frown answered that question, but he replied anyway, "None."
"But, we've a Blight to face…" Adela began, anxiety rising up, threatening to close off her throat. "Why would they send you…"
"They did not send me," Riordan offered. "As a matter of fact, I…took leave without permission. Defying an order to leave Ferelden to its fate and prepare the other nations of Thedas for the possibility of a spreading Blight." He scowled slightly, the movement of features causing deeper furrows in his cheeks. "The Chapter in Orlais has enlisted the Chevaliers and has begun maneuvers to protect the borders."
The Fereldans stood stock still, disbelief upon their faces. The flush that had been upon Adela's cheeks vanished, replaced by a pallor of fear. "They…" she said very softly, her voice failing her.
"I could not stand by and allow that to happen," Riordan took an anxious step forward, gazing down at the small woman. "I was born in Ferelden. I lived here as a child." He motioned around him, clearly indicating the city of Denerim and not the stone walls that had quartered him these long weeks. "We are Grey Wardens. Sworn to defeat against Blights, to protect others against the taint. To allow it to sweep across a nation…" he shook his head, turning to pace to the guard's body. "It went against everything I had learned and fought for during my twenty years as a Warden."
Looking down at the man he killed, Riordan suddenly bent down, picking up the fallen man's dagger and hand axe. Rising, he turned to face the others. "What is your purpose here, if you did not know of my presence?"
Quickly, Adela explained about the need to free the queen. Silently, the senior grey warden listened, nodding his head, interjecting with a question or comment, but overall allowing the elf to explain. Once Adela had finished, he nodded his head, bringing a large hand to rub along his square jaw.
"A wise plan," he praised. Glancing at the door that led upwards he then turned, pointing to another door across the corridor. "That leads deeper into the dungeons. I recall earlier today a group of men passing this way. I did not get a good look, however, I did see Howe," Roland's face darkened at the mention of the man's name, "and at least one mage. Several guards, as well." He turned back to Adela and the others. "If you wish, I shall assist you in getting to Howe and the mage, and then we can work on freeing the queen."
DA:O
Despite weeks of imprisonment, Riordan proved to be a skilled warrior. The legendary Grey Warden stamina proved itself yet again as Adela and the others made their bloody way through the subterranean corridors of the deep dungeons of the Denerim estates. It seemed to the group that they had to fight for each step they took, navigating the twisting ways beneath the main bulk of the massive estate that was the home of the Arl of Denerim. Adela cringed with each kill, knowing full well that many of those who served the current Arl were not evil, but merely doing their job, seeing to their duty.
Which many believed was protecting the lawful Arl of Denerim.
Others, however, seemed to take a great pleasure in antagonizing and flinging themselves into battle against the group. Adela had managed to procure a short bow from a fallen guard and stood away from the group, firing deadly missiles at their foes. Raising the bow, she sighted down and shot dead a fleeing guard.
They could not afford mercy at this juncture. Any who wore the livery of Howe or the Arl of Denerim were considered enemies and were to be treated as such.
A shudder passed through Adela as she stepped around the still body of the young man who had tried to flee, her arrow sticking from the back of his neck, his life's blood seeping onto the cold, stone floor. She did not feel remorse for taking his life, and that bothered her greatly. With a sigh, she looked up to find Roland, who had paused to wait for her. Waving him ahead, she followed.
She hoped that, once this business with the Blight was over, she would be able to find herself once more.
DA:O
They had discovered many prisoners, tucked away in torture chambers or cells so far removed from the main corridors that meandered beneath the estate that it was obvious they were meant to never be found. However, Adela and her group were searching, digging into every corner, opening every door. Bodies lined the hallways, scattered upon the floors of the dungeons. Bodies of Howe's men and those innocents taken by Howe for political and personal reasons.
One such prisoner, a young nobleman by the name of Oswyn, who introduced himself as the son of Bann Sighard of the Dragon's Peak bannorn, stumbled from the rack he had been chained to once Adela had worked the rusted lock open. Roland stepped forward to steady the young man. He told a tale of how a friend of his had been a soldier at Ostagar, and related of how Loghain had ordered soldiers from the field before being overrun by darkspawn, thereby abandoning the king, the Grey Wardens and the battlefield ready soldiers to death at the hands of the darkspawn.
"Eirick vanished shortly afterwards," Oswyn said, gratefully accepting the cloak Roland handed him while Oghren searched the bodies of the guards for clothing or armor that would fit the starved young man. "I went searching for him," the youth shrugged, grimacing as he accepted a tunic and breeches Oghren handed him, trying to ignore the blood stains upon the fabric. "I was an idiot, accepting a drink from a stranger." He shrugged the clothing on. "He said he had information; idiot that I am believed him."
"When yer desp'rate 'nough," Oghren said in an understandingly gruff manner, "ya'll believe anythin' that may point cha in the right direction."
Nodding, Oswyn replied, "Indeed, Ser Dwarf," he offered a small smile as he tugged on a pair of well worn boots. ""When I awoke, I found myself here, at Howe's tender mercies."
"Did Howe do this to you?" Adela asked quietly, pointing to the ruin that was his knee as Niall bent to offer healing to the garish injury.
Wincing slightly, Oswyn nodded. "Howe seems to like a more…" he grimaced in memory of the injuries and indignities he suffered at Howe's hands, "hands on approach to gathering his information." His smile was brittle yet grateful as the mage straightened. "Not that I had anything worthy of the telling."
Nodding, Adela glanced about the chamber, obvious by the many stark stains and torture devices to be the scene of many such tortures of others. "You should get out," she turned her attention back to the young man. "The way behind us is clear. Get to your father and tell him what has happened."
"I most certainly will," Oswyn assured them as he limped toward the exit. "And, if a Landsmeet is called, I am certain my father will offer support to the Grey Wardens."
"Our thanks," Adela remarked as the young man turned the corner, disappearing from their sight.
Staring at the doorway, Oghren muttered, "Nasty piece o'work that Howe." He looked over into Adela's face. "Could give the Carta a run fer their coin, I'd say."
Nodding, Adela dryly remarked, "You have no idea," and turned to lead her group from the offending chamber, continuing their search for Howe and his mage.