This chapter is a bit shorter than planned; but we've not through the Alienage, as you'll no doubt realize. I've had some issues – between injuring my fingers in a freak wood-meets-stove accident, and then I've been ill for the past couple of weeks. So, rather than keep it on hold as I have, I figured I'd break the chapters up for the Alienage, and putter at it as I can.

My thanks, as always, to those who continue to lurk/read, alert, favorite and, most especially, review: Shakespira, Wyl, Arsinoe de Blassenville

The Halla Reborn

Chapter 68

As soon as the heavy wooden gate creaked open, they could smell it. The sickly sweet, cloying odor of what was wrong in the Alienage. The guard at the gate clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, scowling at the Warden and her group, urging them in so that he could shut the gate, effectively shutting off the worst of the malignancy that permeated the elven slums beyond. It was not an overwhelming odor by any means, just a hint of what it represented drifting upon the wind and over the group. The discomfort of just knowing what that odor epitomized was enough for the group to scurry in, eyes focused upon the dirt pathway into the Alienage.

Adela's blue eyes scanned the entrance into the Alienage, frowning at memories of the crowds of elven merchants, children and gatherers that oft filtered through the Alienage to congregate near the gate filled her thoughts. Now, no one stood there, and it was obvious that, for some time now, this pathway had been abandoned. The stench of death and decay was stronger the closer to the center they walked, and even Adela's companions could feel the ill ease within; the stench upon the air was not simply of death and decay. Despair and hopelessness had made their way into the very undercurrents of the place.

Silently, eyes fixed ahead, Adela led her group deeper into the Alienage, over the crumbling wooden bridge leading over the shallow, filthy stream that flowed along the perimeter of the elven slum. She paused, blue eyes going to the door of her father's home. Her companions stood, quietly, behind her, concerned expressions upon their faces as the elf resumed her trek, leading them to the front of her home.

There was hesitation in her every movement, even as she reached her hand to the doorknob. As anxious as she was to see her father and cousins, the overriding concern and anxiety that had filled her these past few months – since Michael had warned her of the troubles those months before – took hold, paralyzing her. She almost feared what may await her beyond the door.

Quietly, Anders stepped forward, placing a large, warm hand over her own. Raising her eyes to her newest of friends, the elven warden gave the healer a weak smile and brief nod, her hand now fisting the handle tightly as she gave it a turn and pushed open the door.

The small group entered the home, passing through a short entryway and into a well-lit, warm and tidy living space. Adela's eyes skimmed over the familiar space – the door to her left that would open to the kitchen area, knowing beyond the kitchen was the doorway that led to the market place store front that her father had paid a great deal of coin for but now stood, blocked off to any from within the Alienage. Directly in front of them stood another door, one that would lead to the home's three bedrooms.

The fire was lit – the source of the light and heat within the area. A familiar rocking chair stood before the fires, and Adela frowned, noting that the chair moved almost unperceptively. Taking a step, and then another, the elf made her way to the chair's side, staring down at the figure that sat, asleep, within the curled depths of the antique piece.

Skin pale beneath a natural tan, dark circles hung beneath closed eyes, and red hair fell longer before his face, obscuring the gaunt cheeks and furrowed brow. Disquiet clenched the elven warden's heart as she stared down at her elder cousin, a hand hovering over the slumbering form, uncertainty keeping its distance just above his head.

"Soris?" Adela knelt beside the elven male, that hesitant hand now resting lightly upon one hunched shoulder, giving it a slight shake as it tightened. The male grumbled slightly, frowning in his sleep, and Adela gave another shake, gentle but firmer than the first. The grumbling grew louder and slowly, so slowly, Soris' bluest of eyes opened, blinking blearily at the young woman who knelt beside him.

"No," he whispered, his voice harsh, as though sounding through a throat unused to speech. Those blue eyes – bluer even than Adela's own – blinked again, and he startled, lurching back into the confines of the chair, his hands rising to ward off what he believed to be an unreal vision.

"No," his voice was stronger, and he glared at the woman, lips down turning into a harsh scowl. "You're dead!" he hissed between dry, cracked lips. "You're dead and everything's fallen apart!"

"Soris!" Adela leaned forward, her hand reclaiming the shoulder as the other reached around him to grasp the other. Giving him a shake, she leaned her face closer, blue eyes searching blue eyes, watching as sleep and nightmare cleared from his vision, finally focusing upon the sharp young face before him.

"Adela?" he squeaked out, launching himself forward, hands grasping his younger cousin, wrapping his arms about her slight body as her own hands fell from his shoulders to return the embrace. "We…we heard…" he gasped out, choking as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, hot tears scorching a path down his face to the soft flesh of her neck. "The…Wardens…"

"I'm here, Soris," Adela crooned raising a hand to rub the back of his head, her eyes searching out her companions, who watched on with concern clearly upon their faces. Carefully, Anders made his way to the elves, settling himself upon his heels on Soris' other side, watching for any sign that he and his healing magic would be of use.

"He's exhausted," Anders confirmed, sympathy upon his handsome face as he studied the anguished expression upon the elven male's features, the slumping of his posture and how unnaturally pale his flesh. "Emotionally, mostly."

Nodding, Adela flashed a grateful smile to her friend, adjusting herself to a more comfortable position as Soris cried himself out, clasping tighter to his cousin as she adjusted, as though in fear she would disappear should his grasp upon her falter, his hands fisting her leather armor, seeking any handhold to latch upon.

"Shhh…" she hushed at the one who had been her protector and closest friend in the Alienage. "I'm here…not all of the Wardens perished. I'm here," she kept repeating that last bit, continually rocking her cousin until finally the tears dried up, and he stiffened, finally straightening, his hands still upon her, holding her in an iron grip, his eyes searching her face.

"Cousin," he finally said, his voice clearer, his eyes shining. "You're…you're alive…" the disbelief in his soft, hoarse voice was clear as his roughened fingers rubbed along her temples. Adela offered him a soft smile as she caressed the side of his face.

"Figured that out, Cousin?" she teased lightly.

He straightened, blinking his eyes rapidly as a slow smile crossed his handsome face. Taking a breath, he turned his head, still holding Adela's face in his trembling hands, taking in those who accompanied his cousin to their home. Eyes widening, he turned his focus back to the girl.

"Are they all Wardens, too?" he asked, finally releasing his hold.

Shaking her head, Adela rose, pulling her cousin up as well. "No. There are four of us, but I'm the only Warden in this group." She pulled the taller elf along behind her and introduced him to her companions. Anders and Zevran flashed the handsome young elf bright smiles while Oghren merely grunted in his general direction.

"Soris," Adela's voice was firm and commanding, and the elder cousin found himself straightening at the tone as he turned to face her. "What is going on here in the Alienage?"

Sighing, he indicated the others to sit in the chairs surrounding the room's circular table, and then settled down himself. "It's a long story, Cousin."

A frown forming upon her face, Adela pulled a chair out and, giving it a turn, settled down facing the red head. "Seems to be the only kind I've been hearing lately."

Soris chuckled softly at that, giving a slight shake of his head. "First, you need to know that all of the trouble here did not start with…ah…" he reached up and nervously scratched at his head, glancing over at his cousin's companions before leaning forward slightly. "the wedding day."

Relief, sharp and swift, swept through Adela's body as her posture relaxed slightly. "Are you certain?"

Nodding, Soris replied, "The Captain was good to his word. He maintained patrols about the Alienage, even allowed some of what had happened to 'leak' out to the rest of the city." The elven male shrugged slightly. "With what happened at Ostagar, the Arl's son kidnapping, raping and killing a few elves, some of who managed to escape, didn't seem quite as important."

"I'm a little surprised," Zevran remarked, a slender hand to his sharp chin. "Normally, times of crisis are used as excuses for excessive displays of violence." Honey colored eyes crinkled at the corners as he forced a smile. "Especially against those who are considered weaker."

Soris merely shrugged. "We all really expected some backlash." The Alienage elf agreed with the elven assassin. "The Hahren had ordered that no elf would leave the Alienage alone, and to always remain upon the main streets of the city if they had to go out." The red head tilted his head slightly. "Kylon watched the gates constantly, and set guards he knew he could trust."

"When I spoke with Michael, months ago, he seemed to have thought the trouble started immediately…"

"No, it started about a month or so after Ostagar." Soris frowned. "Maybe Kylon had word of something else going on – I mean, we did have some violence against us, but nothing like a full scale riot or purge." Taking a deep breath, her cousin continued, "not until after Ostagar and the new Arl took up residence."

"Howe," Adela replied shortly and Soris nodded his agreement.

"Yup. Once that snake took title is when the shit came flyin' through the spokes," he ignored the pursing of his cousin's lips at his language. "Howe ordered the guards to close off the Alienage, claiming that he found 'new' evidence that elves – particularly the one who had become a Grey Warden - had actually murdered Vaughan Kendalls and he was doing so to 'protect' the innocent." Soris snorted. "He was using that bit of 'news' as another way to turn everyone against the Wardens."

"Good maneuver," Oghren supplied in his rusty voice. "Politics worthy of Orzammar herself," the dwarven warrior pounded his fist to the table, causing Soris to jump slightly in his seat. "Amazing how humans can forget just how much the Wardens do to preserve lives," the dwarf shook his head in disgust. "Bloody nughumpin' idiots."

Giving her friend a soft smile, Adela turned back to Soris. "Cousin," the red head turned his attention away from the volatile dwarf back to his cousin, "Please…"

"Oh, yeah, right," he breathed in deeply, "We never experienced a true purge," he explained, fists tightening slightly as he spoke, "but some of the guards of the two nobles who were killed alongside Kendalls were sent in to the Alienage by the families, and several elves were taken and killed," he scowled, his handsome face twisting with impotent anger. "They attacked and killed everyone – the keepers and children – within the orphanage," he clenched his eyes shut at the collective gasp that filled the room. "But the Arl sent in his own guards and routed the idiots quickly. That's when the first cases of the illness showed up."

"Illness?"

"Yeah. Some thought it was the plague. You know, with the Alienage being shut up like it was and medical help being what it was." He sighed again, looking down at his pale hands. "Hahren and Uncle could not identify the illness, but they gave what attention they could. 'Course, with our best herbalist gone," he smirked at his younger cousin, "and not being able to get out to get the medicinals we needed really hampered their efforts. That's when the Arl, in his continued generosity toward the poor elves sent in healers of his own."

"There are healers within the Alienage?" Anders asked from his corner seat.

"Yeah. But they're kinda strange," the elf turned to the human mage. "They have strange accents, and I know some of them are mages." Startling blue eyes fixed upon the mage, scanning the robes the young man wore. "You know, their robes are rather similar to the ones you're wearing."

There was a moment of silence as Adela and Anders' eyes met, a frown upon the mage's face. "Tevinters."

Soris froze, fear rushing through him. "They allowed Tevinter mages into the Alienage?" he whispered after a moment before jerking upright in his seat. Adela placed a placating hand upon his wrist and he settled back into his seat. She could feel the shaking of his body.

"Go on, Soris," Adela whispered, forcing her own concerns down. Tevinter mages…

"Yeah, well," he rubbed a hand through his short hair, "they set up a hospice and started taking in some of the ill. Those they cured were sent home with some medicines and instructions for bed rest and such. Others turned away at the door as not being ill. But others…"

"What?"

"Others never returned. The healers said some died, some were so sick that they needed to remain at the hospice, but others we never got word of. Usually those without family. But the really strange part was that those who disappeared in one way or another were always those with talents, or were young or pretty…" Soris' eyes met Adela's. "The ones who were cured were usually those without any real talent, were old, difficult to deal with or not particularly attractive."

"Slavers," Zevran hissed between clenched teeth, and Adela looked over to note, with surprise, the former Crow's hands clenching.

Soris turned to meet the angered elf's eyes. "That's what Shianni and I thought, but we couldn't be sure. After all, slavery in Ferelden is illegal, right?" he glanced anxiously at the others, who looked at one another and slowly nodded. "But, if these are Tevinters..." Soris' quick mind was filling in the blanks, but then he remembered he was retelling the events, and quickly resumed, "Shianni's been at the hospice near daily to try and warn others away."

"Why are you here?" Zevran asked, not taking the trouble to keep the accusation free of his voice. The assassin kept his gaze firm upon his leader's cousin, despite the glare said leader was now casting his direction.

But Soris did not take offense. "I went with her at the beginning. But, we both started to notice that I had begun showing some symptoms." The handsome young elf shrugged. "Shianni thought that perhaps the mages had set their sights upon me, and insisted I remain out of sight. That's been, about two weeks now."

"You do look ill, Cousin," Adela remarked as she placed the back of her hand to his forehead. He was warm, but not overly. "What are your symptoms?"

Giving her a shrug, he replied, "Mostly I'm just tired. I was aching all over at first, with headaches and a cough that rattled my chest. But, once I separated myself from the scene, I've been getting better."

"Why is Shianni not ill?" Adela asked, frowning. "After all, she's pretty enough…"

"We've talked about that, too. Maybe she's too feisty, too much of a troublemaker? Or merely not stupid enough to get close enough?" he gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I did approach one of the mages…allowed him to place a hand upon me," Soris managed a weak grin. "You know my little sister…if there's trouble to cause, she'll be at the heart of it."

"But you say you've been feeling better?" Adela persisted, concern for her cousin weighing in.

"Yeah, but, there's more you need to know…" his blue eyes met and held Adela's and the elven Warden knew what he was about to say. "Uncle Cyron had become ill, prior to Shianni and I putting two and two together, and we haven't seen him in almost a month."

A feeling of dizzy fear came over her as she felt the heat leave her body. "Papae…"

"As well as Hahren Valendrian and several of the other elders." His voice softened and his gaze fell once more to his clasped hands. "They took Valora as well."

Adela paused, staring at her cousin as he continued to star down at his hands.

"Talent…" Adela said, thinking on Soris' plain looking but highly intelligent wife.

"Yeah," Soris nodded, scowling into his lap. "Just wish we had figured it out sooner." He took in a shuddering breath. "She's expecting our first child."

There was a heavy silence in the room, broken by Adela's voice.

"At least you figured it out and more than likely managed to save others," Adela remarked softly, trying to offer hope to her cousin as she reached over to pat her cousin's clenched hands gently. She felt ill herself, the thought of her father taken by slavers…Soris' wife and unborn child…giving herself a physical shake, she gripped her cousin's hands, giving him a shake. "Anything else?"

"Well, there is another strange thing going on, but I'm not sure how it's all connected."

"What is it, Cous?"

"There's a Templar," Soris rose from his seat, stepping to stand before the fireplace as he extended his hands toward the warmth. "He showed up, out of nowhere, shortly after the Arl expelled the families' guards. Don't know how he got in. But, he's been asking whether we know of any blood mages within the Alienage."

"Have you spoken with him?" Anders asked, frowning, concerned about the presence of a Templar within the Alienage.

"No," the elf shook his head. "Most of us just steered clear of him. I know Templars are a problem for mages, but we in the Alienage tend not to trust 'em either." Adela was nodding her agreement at that. Too often, the Templars would enter the Alienage, seeking renegade mages, but more often than not simply to assert their own power over the powerless elves.

"He does seem harmless, being blind like he is," Soris continued, almost as an afterthought. "He's been here for a while now, and won't leave."

"Where has he been staying?"

"Arileth's shop," the elf offered quickly. "Arileth's been letting him use the room above the shop's space. Think he was afraid to refuse him shelter."

Frowning, Adela sat silently as she took in the information. Tevinter mages being in the Alienage was her main concern. There was no doubt in her mind that these were slavers. What concerned her was the fact that the current Arl of Denerim had allowed them within the gates of the elven community.

What was Howe about?

Sighing, Adela rose. "Anders," the mage looked up. "Please, would you check Soris over again for me before we leave?"

"Certainly, Adela," the human mage rose, stepping to the elven male's side, hands glowing blue with his healing power. Soris did not flinch, but allowed the other man to skim his hands over his form.

"He's fine, Adela," Anders remarked, "Perhaps a little anemic which would explain why he's so tired. He just needs to eat and get plenty of rest."

Looking down at her seated cousin, Adela replied in a stern tone everyone within the room – including her elder cousin – was well used to, "See to it, Cousin. I want you well."

Chuckling softly, feeling as though things would be alright now that his cousin was home where she belonged, Soris rose and went off to the kitchen as Adela and her companions left the house to search out Adela's younger cousin and the hospice.

DA:O

Adela led her group from her home, passing by few lingering elves, most of whom recognized their wayward sister, others who merely ignored their presence altogether. As they walked, they came upon the desiccated building that had once been the orphanage. Adela stopped, turning to face the blank façade of the old building, taking note of the blackened wood, the front door having been boarded shut, and a notice proclaiming that the elves were forbidden to carry any weapons upon their person. Scowling, she leaned in, reaching over with one slender hand to rip the offending parchment from the ruin front.

"This is new," she scowled at the paper, crumpling it before tossing it to the ground.

As if the elves needed written confirmation of their lowly status…

Yet, she lingered, staring at the building, the feeling of dread and fear and absolute horror filling her senses. In her mind, she could almost hear the screams of the children and their guardians within, feel the heat from the licking flames that engulfed a great portion of the once solid structure. Something remained…she turned toward Anders, who had moved from the back of the pack to stand beside her, his golden brown eyes squinting with concern.

"You feel it, too?" she asked of her mage friend, who merely nodded his blond head in confirmation. "What is it?"

Frowning, he turned, staring down at her. "Certainly you can feel it," he prompted, "the thinning of the Veil."

"Because of the violence done within," Adela offered without hesitation, and the mage again nodded his head.

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to remove her hand from the wooden door, and then to step back and away. She promised those who had died within that they would take the time – later – to investigate. But, for now, they had to see to the living.