Thank you to Legionary Prime, Wyl, Shakespira, GlysMari, and two new reviewers: Gizmo60 and foateazombie for the reviews. And, as always, thanks to those who continue to follow and favorite. Helps keep me going with finishing this thing.
This chapter had many reincarnations, until, while driving home from work, this one came to me. Since I hated all of the others, I settled for this one.
The Halla Reborn
Chapter 80:
1The Grey Wardens were here.
As the nobles gathered their available guards (making certain, of course, to keep a handy number guarding their own various properties), they regaled one another with delight.
The Grey Wardens would defeat the Blight.
Teryn Loghain's apparent disloyalty to the Therien line was, in actuality the work of a damnable blood mage.
And a Therien was once again on the throne.
It seemed so appropriate to the nobles that not only had a long-lost son of King Maric reappear, just when they needed him most, but that he was a Grey Warden as well.
So, just as his father had done, decades ago as he led the rebel forces of Ferelden against the evil Orlesians, so, too, would King Alistair lead the Grey Wardens against the darkspawn and defeat the Blight.
There was no reason for fear. The Blight would be defeated, even if it meant accepting the aid of foreigners such as the dwarves, those cretin Chasind, those wild-eyed, gruff warriors.
And elves.
Mages, with their Templar guardians, mingled amongst those armies, foreign powers within Fereldan borders.
Despite the need for calling upon those not truly of Ferelden, the nobles went about their day.
After all, the Grey Wardens were here.
DA:O
Anders' blond head rose, amber eyes gazing out the high, wide windows, out toward the training fields, where many of his comrades stood, preparing others for the oncoming dark storm.
Returning his attention to those young mages – barely out of apprenticeship (although he suspected many were still unharrowed) – who stood in groups around himself, Niall and Wynne. Mages that were in dire need of a crash course in battle.
A frown creased his smooth brow and brought the normally smiling edges of his lips downward. His gaze caught the brown eyes of Niall, who returned the frown upon his own face. Both males turned slightly, away from their protégés, to watch as Wynne instructed a smaller group of mages who were healers, who were being field trained to act as battletime medics.
Far too young, the mage thought as he turned back toward the younger mages, to instruct them on how to keep a foe at a distance as they offered magical support to their allies.
Turning away, Niall focused his attention away from the elderly spirit healer and back to his own pupils, instructing them on hand holds for their staves, for when the battle was brought to them, face to face.
DA:O
Heavy footsteps echoed within and throughout the murky tunnels. Weapons bristled as dark, chittering chuckles filled the dank air. Darkness ruled here, but those who traversed through them were well acquainted with darkness.
DA:O
The Grey Wardens were here.
The commoner and merchant folk huddled within their homes of wood or stone that lay within the area in and around the market district. Mothers cooed and soothed frightened children with old tales of how the Grey Wardens had defeated Blights in eras long past.
They cared not so much that King Maric's son had settled upon throne. They were more pleased that he was a Grey Warden, and had brought many allies with him to assist in defeating the Blight.
Many of the children, during the earlier days of the gathering of the armies, had ventured out to the city's walls to view the dwarven warriors as they marched and drilled in formation. They gawked at the Chasind with their animal skins, dark and tatooed skins, and large, rough looking weapons.
Few caught sight of the lithe Dalish as they vanished into the shadows or the boughs of treetops, and some were frightened by the gruff appearing men, dressed in rough leathern armor and with wild, yellow eyes.
Word had arrived another group of warriors had come to their borders, these carrying heavy weapons and wearing heavier armor. Tales whispered from one mouth to another proclaimed that these warriors had blood for eyes, but many scoffed at that notion.
All they cared about was that there were allies to held in defeating the Blight.
And they cared not whether it was the human King Alistair or the pretty elven Warden Commander who led these troops to the field.
The mothers simply did not wish to be made liars as they continued to sing and talk to their children, telling them all will be well.
For the Grey Wardens were here.
DA:O
Natia skidded to a halt, bending at the waist to rest hands upon bent knees. At first, selecting and training runners for when the battle came to them had been, well, fun. She had been given free reign of the entire city – including the roof tops of many noble homes and manors – to organize routes for the many messengers and runners that would be required for the field generals to organize their allies and troops.
Now, it was not so much fun as she came to realize the full scope of what she and about two dozen young humans would face. Denerim was a sprawling city, filled with winding alley ways, nearly staggered roof top routes and narrow streets.
Nearly empty, the ways were difficult enough to traverse and fully map. She shuddered when she imagined them filled with battling humans, dwarves, elves and darkspawn.
Taking a deep breath, she straightened, a tightening in her chest arising as her gaze fell upon the teenaged humans who would serve as her runners. Dark eyes closed, long lashes brushed her cheeks as she realized that many – if not all – would not live long enough to share in whatever fate await them at battle's end.
DA:O
Red shot eyes blinked as the darkness began to lighten from far ahead. The chittering chuckles that had reverberated through the stifling atmosphere lowed to a rumbling mutter.
The heavy footfalls continued onward.
DA:O
The Grey Wardens were here.
The elves pulled forth bows and arrows - long illegal for them to carry and wield, but still hidden within floor and wall boards. Many who now held the weapons did not know how to wield them, but there was a determination within their hearts.
The Grey Wardens may well be in Denerim, but it felt more as though they where 'there' rather than 'here'. After all, word had been spread that King Alistair would lead the Grey Wardens, rather than their own Adela Tabris.
And they knew better than to assume that their alienage, with its meager wall of rotten wood, would be afforded any protection from the city guards, or the forces of the nobles.
Or that those armies gathered without the city's walls would protect their meager lives and lot before saving the nobles or human commoners.
No.
The Grey Wardens were there, and few had seen those gathered armies beyond the city's walls. And while they had faith that the legendary warrior sect would defeat the Blight, they had little that they would live to see such a victory.
The elves frowned at the bows in hand and the sharp knives on their hips. They would fight to protect their loved ones and their homes. They would fight and die, proving that, even if the nobles of Ferelden had replaced their Adela with King Alistair to lead the Grey Wardens, elves could protect their homes.
So, the Grey Wardens were there.
DA:O
Metal spurs clicked upon the stone floors, echoing throughout the chantry as the knights moved forward, assembled before the Mothers and Sisters. A bright red head rose, green eyes scanning, watching as Sir Landry and his knights came forward, kneeling before Mother Boann and the other Sisters, receiving their blessings as they prepared for battle.
Turning, the now leather clad elf watched as her mistress stepped forward, two daggers strapped to her hips, dressed in finely made leather armor as well. Gone was the vapid Orlesian noblewoman whom she had served, faithfully, for years. This Lady Isolde, the one who stood, proudly scarred and ready to fight for her home, was truly a Fereldan. Never in all of her years as her servant had Gail felt prouder of her mistress.
Glittering knights knelt before the altar readying for blessings. Within the shadows that surrounded the altar, the knights and the priests stood, silent and ready, rogues and assassins, lent to them by the Antivan Crows that had settled into the city. Revenge had been their original contract within Fereldan's capitol. Now, that contract had been bought out with better coin, and a new contract had been entered into.
Trepidation and fear settled into many of the Crows' chests. Yet, resolve was there as well. For, this contract would prove the great might of the Antivan Crows.
After this battle, the Antivan Crows would be far more than simply death bought by the highest bidder.
DA:O
The dark forms, visible in the dim light that penetrated the debris barely blocking their exit, shied back, gnarled, muscled arms raising to protect their light-sensitive eyes. Several forms, larger than those following, stepped forward, pushing through the debris, letting more of the cold, gray sunlight in. Blinking, the dark form stepped back, snarling out a command, and led those who followed through the final lag of the tunnel, crawling through the muck and refuse from those who dwelt above.
DA:O
Adela turned away from the map of the city laid out upon the table. Riordan was settled forward, bent over the map, dark eyes carefully tracing a route from the front gates through the market and deeper into the city. His gaze rose briefly as the young elven woman stood straight and moved from the table, allowing those with greater experience more room to work out the route.
The senior Grey Warden noted the young king's eyes raise, a wistful expression upon his young, troubled face as those gold eyes settled upon the back of the elven warden.
With a slight shake of dark head, the Warden from Jader turned back to the map, listening as those generals who knew this city – knew this land – outlined possible battle routes as well as work up further fortifications for the exterior battlements.
As Riordan turned his attention back to the battle maps, Loghain pointed toward an area near the docks. "That area," a gnarled finger pointed, "is where, during the battle for Denerim against the Orlesians, the Night Elves managed to enter into the city."
Alistair bent forward as did Fergus, both younger men frowning at the spot. "Near the docks?" Alistair asked as he lifted his eyes to the elder warrior. "How did they manage to gain entrance? That area is inside the city near the harbormaster's quarters."
Cold blue eyes narrowed in memory. "The sewer system runs the length and breadth of the entire city," the rough vocals of the legendary noble offered. "The elves simply entered the system from without the city."
A frown forming upon Adela's face, she turned, moving quickly toward the men. "Where did they gain entrance?" she asked, eyes skimming over the raised terrain of the map.
Glancing at the young elf, Loghain pointed to a point many miles from the city limits. "You see this area?" he asked, not looking over as Adela nodded, "there is an entrance, a hole actually, leading into the earth. It wasn't excavated," here he chuckled slightly, "Your mother actually led this raid. And she was not happy that she had to send several of her warriors in to dig the way in." Adela's eyes rose to meet those of Loghain's. "She ranted and raved about not being durgen'lin," both shared a mild chuckle. "However, they made it all those miles into the city, crawling through uneven tunnels, crawlways and holes, making their way to the docks."
The pair fell silent as the others continued to trace routes and possible strong points within the city proper.
"Was that tunnel ever sealed off?" Alistair asked, having caught on to the conversation between the pair, moved closer to the two, amber eyes fixed upon the point upon the map by the docks.
Brow furrowing, Loghain gave a brief nod, "The exit itself into the city was walled off with stone and resin."
"What is to prevent the darkspawn from finding Mother's old route," Adela's question was soft, fear filled, "and excavating the seal?"
All other conversation ceased as each head rose to stare at the elven warden.
"That entrance was sealed, as Teryn Loghain explained," Eamon offered, impatience clear in his voice as he physically waved a hand as though he could wave the question aside.
But Adela, Loghain, Alistair and Riordan were not so quite to accept that explanation.
"Fergus," Loghain turned to his fellow Teryn, who had stood to listen to the conversation. "Do you not have men in that area patrolling the docks?"
Nodding, the young Cousland spoke, "We'll send a runner with a map of the area, and have them check the entrance."
With a wave, Fergus summoned a young human boy to his side, bending down as he handed the youth a copy of the larger map, giving him clear instruction on finding his patrol. With a sure nod, the youth dashed from the noble's side, racing from the Landsmeet chamber and out the palace doors, and toward the docks.
DA:O
Dark, gnarled hands clawed at the stone and sealant that held the old seal together. Rock crumbled, tittering down the wall, clacking to the ground beneath. Those hands paused, silencing the clatter as dark, red eyes narrowed. Then, as though having braced, several strong, muscled bodies slammed against the remaining stone, crashing the stones to the ground as the darkspawn stumbled into the light.
DA:O
From the docks section of the city, screams rose as the young runner continued onward toward the Highever forces that patrolled the area.