The Halla: Reborn

Chapter 81

Acidic rain and brimstone rained down upon the battlefield, now littered with the bodies of blackened darkspawn and soldiers - human, elven and dwarven – alike, splattering ground made muddy with water and blood upon the corpses. Grayish spots formed on the armor of those warriors left standing, breathing heavily, weapons held at the ready as they surveyed the area, certain another wave of the tainted evil creatures had yet to reveal itself.

Raising the hand holding the sword of his father, Alistair wiped the rain from his eyes, grimacing as he pulled back a hand blackened with the blackened blood of the darkspawn. Amber eyes narrowed slightly against the relentless wind, his head turning to watch as the small elven woman limped toward the small group, Zevran hovering at her shoulder as Niall tried to cast a healing spell upon the wounded woman. The Fereldan king fought with himself, sternly whispering to himself he had no right to rush to her side, had no right to the tight feeling in his chest as he realized that Adela had been injured in the initial assault of the darkspawn at the front gates.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his body to turn away, focusing upon the senior gray Warden who stood at his side, head bowed in discussion with Loghain, Eamon and Fergus.

"I do wish you would stand still for one moment, Adela," Niall was sternly scolding the young woman as they neared the group of warriors, Alistair turning to watch the trio's approach. Adela muttered something, so quietly that Alistair could not hear the words, but the exchange of glances between Zevran and the mage told him enough to know that Adela was being obstinate about the healing.

It was Loghain who spoke first to the trio. "Let the damned mage heal you, Adela," the elder male scolded, blue eyes flashing as he ignored the indignant glare from Niall, irritability heavy in his voice. "Now is not the time to behave as your mother."

Adela's head rose, sapphire eyes meeting ice, a scowl forming upon her brow. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she halted long enough for Niall to cast his spell. The pain filled tension of her body eased, and relief was reflected in the girl's eyes as she thanked Niall and quickly joined the others.

Riordan's dark, rain soaked head rose as Adela approached. He gave her a polite nod of the head as she took her place by his side, bow held tightly in one small hand. The elder Warden raised his eyes as Niall, Zevran and Roland took their places by the elven woman's side.

"The Archdemon is nearby," Riordan stated, his soft voice carrying easily among those within their huddle. Adela could feel The Sten's presence as the giant warrior took a position beyond the group, knowing beyond doubt that his lavender eyes scanned the area, alert and ready for any sign of trouble, Asala firmly in one large paw. Ogren took his place directly parallel to the huge warrior, his own battle axe held naked in both hands, dark green eyes narrowed; almost hoping another of the darkspawn would make an appearance to slake the bloodlust rising within the chest of the battlerager.

She could almost feel the ripple of power as their other three mages – Anders, Morrigan and Wynne – stepped nearer, Anders and Wynne casting upon them spells of rejuvenation and healing, while Morrigan settled about them powerful barriers.

Leliana was easier to detect as she softly sang a hymn as she, too, took a protection position. She could not help it; she tilted her head, focusing her keen hearing upon the bard's words.

"Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart. The dawn will come…"

Adela raised her head, tired elven eyes meeting the soft blue of the Orlesian. Both women smiled as the bard's voice softened further as she turned away, eyes scanning the field and walls, bow ready to lose an arrow should the need arise.

"If the Archdemon is within the city," Alistair was saying, "then we Wardens should go and hunt it down."

With a pained sigh, Riordan shook his head. "I cannot pin point its location," he admitted with a frown. "However, I believe that I should go in alone," he turned to Adela, "Adela, you and another team should make way into the city, and leave the rest here to guard the gates."

"Guard the gates?" she asked, frowning as she turned her gaze back to the heavy, iron bound gates that lay askance upon their hinges. Although the initial assault from the darkspawn had occurred from the docks, another contingent of the fiends had made their way through the front gates of the city, causing massive confusion among the soldiers and knights. The city guards had to face the darkspawn threat deeper in the city, as the majority of the armies had been harbored outside the great walls or spread out among the noble and market districts.

"Should we really split up like that?" Adela questioned, turning back to Riordan.

Nodding, he explained. "We cannot give the Archdemon and its minions a one-shot attempt against the only Grey Wardens within Fereldan," he gave small shrug. "Spread out, and we have a better chance of actually gaining upon the beast, and severing it from the main body of the horde."

He turned his attention toward the deeper part of the city, where the tower of Fort Drakon stood. "I would suggest, Adela, that you take a team to the tower through the alienage, with another to follow a parallel course, all ending at the tower. Leave the others here to guard against another incursion of darkspawn," he looked back to the girl who was the Warden Commander of Fereldan, however he may have preferred it. "I sense there are others lurking, but with the close proximity of so many darkspawn and the Archdemon, my sense of direction is a little…skewed."

Roland gave a nervous chuckle as Niall responded a little sheepishly, "Roland and I had noticed that as well."

Avoiding looking at Loghain or Alistair, Adela let loose a breath, turning her gaze to Niall and Roland. "Okay." She said, turning back to the others. "Niall, Ogren, and Anders will come with me. We will go through the north gate of the alienage to the tower." She turned to Roland. "Roland, you will take Morrigan, Leliana and Zevran with you and head directly through to the noble district, and meet us at the foot of the tower."

Now she looked up at Alistair. "Alistair, you will remain here, with The Sten, Wynne, Loghain, Fergus and Eamon, to guard the gates with the soldiers and knights who remain."

"What?" Alistair took a step forward, momentarily forgetting the events of the past weeks, forgetting he was no longer Adela's Second. "I'm not going with you?"

A gentle smile crossed Adela's bloodied face. "Alistair, you heard Riordan. We can't have all of the Grey Wardens in one spot. It would be too convenient a target for the darkspawn."

"And yet you take three Wardens to the tower," Alistair retorted.

Glancing over at Riordan, who gave her a slight nod of encouragement, Adela shook her head slightly. With a sigh, the elder Warden answered the younger. "There's a good chance the Archdemon will make its way to the tower. It's the highest part of the city," he raised a hand as Alistair began to protest as he added, "You and Loghain and the others all made that prediction when trying to come up with a battle plan. That's why so many of our troops were stationed in the noble district."

"I still don't like…" Alistair began, but this time it was Adela who interrupted him, the small smile now gone, replaced with a fierce look of determination.

"It doesn't matter what you like or don't like, Alistair," she retorted sharper than she had meant. "These plans had been discussed prior to the Archdemon even appearing." Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself taller. "And I am giving you a direct order, Warden."

Blinking rapidly, Alistair took a step back, momentarily and easily falling back into his role as a soldier as his commander gave him an order. That moment passed just as quickly, however, and he glared obstinately at the woman he still loved.

"You forget that I'm the king," he spat out, only to realize his mistake.

Blue eyes wide, ignoring the gasp that escaped from the lips of Leliana and Wynne, feeling Morrigan's glare fall upon the tall human who had been her husband, Adela stepped forward, one long finger stretched out to jab into the armored chest of Fereldan's young king. "You forget that I'm the Warden Commander of Fereldan," she jabbed again. "You forget that you are still a Warden, despite the crown you may wear upon your head." Another jab, and Alistair flinched, despite not being able to feel any of it. "I gave you an order, Warden. You will follow it."

Angry blue eyes fixed upon repentant browns, and the browns fell slightly as his head nodded. "I understand, Commander," Alistair said softly. Then, raising his head, he called out. "Okay. Sten, and Wynne are with me. Loghain, Eamon," the two elder men turned to look at their king. "Gather our troops! We'll guard these gates and let none of the darkspawn through!"

Sensing the tension had eased, those the king had called nodded their approval as they stepped forward to take their places before the gates.

Taking a breath to steady himself, Alistair turned back to Adela, bowing his head slightly as he took a tentative step forward. "I'm sorry, Adela."

Startled, Adela lifted her face, eyes searching, staring into Alistair's face, noting the blood, dirt and grime that creased his features, making him look so much older than his twenty-one years. She gave him a small smile, tinged with a sadness that was all she could offer him as she responded. "I forgive you, Alistair." She whispered before turning away and gathering those who would accompany her to the tower.

Blinking back rain and tears, Alistair turned to watch as Adela and Roland led their groups deeper into the city, and then watched as Riordan gave him a cursory bow and raced to the shadows, to disappear from sight.

Concern and fear for Adela growing heavy in his chest, he turned to the other leaders, watching as they stepped away to continue their own battle plans, calling to them the runners that Natia had trained, before turning to his own contingent of warriors and companions, settling by the gate, almost hoping that the darkspawn would attempt another run through, just so that he could have something to keep his mind off of his not being at Adela's shoulder, watching her back as she entered into battle.

DA:O

Darkspawn swarmed the area, crowding the market place. Bodies of the dead and dying – human, elven, dwarven as well as darkspawn – lay scattered upon the rain and blood soaked ground. Adela and her group stood, leaning against each other or upon their weapons as they scanned the carnage, much of it new as they had just cut a swath of death as they had made their way to the marketplace.

Just to the southern wall lay the alienage, where Adela's eyes – and heart – kept going, wanting to pull her body with them, to make certain that her family and friends – the place she had called home for almost all of her life – would be. The young elf was fearful for their lives, knowing that the denizens of the alienage would be unable to defend themselves for long against the dark tide that would be threatening them soon.

Despite the fact that their route would take them through the alienage, Adela paused, glancing at her companions, making certain they, too, were on course with her plans. Shoulders rolling as they stood, taking up their weapons once more, and without a word, followed Adela toward the alienage.

A small group of gunlocks sought to block their path to the alienage. Seemingly out of nowhere, a dozen dwarven warriors appeared, battle calls raging out as they swooped in upon the darkspawn, swords and axes chopping at the vile creatures, cutting a path for the Grey Wardens to pass through.

The relief that swept over her was profound as they neared the alienage's center, and spied the bright red head of her cousin, bent down as she engaged in conversation with several Dalish warriors, including Adela's cousin, Theron, and his companions, Junar and Pol. Glancing about as she rushed toward her family, she spotted Soris, who was at that moment exiting their home, a bow slung over one shoulder as he gripped two daggers in his hands.

As they neared, Pol, who had been nervously staring out from the group, spotted them first. With a shout and raised hand, he brought them to the attention of his companions and all raised their heads, focusing upon the Wardens as they neared. A grin crossed Shianni's face as she disengaged from the others to throw herself upon her smaller cousin.

"You came!" she all but shouted, laughing despite the danger, so happy to see her cousin and the others.

"Of course I did," Adela replied as she was pulled from Shianni's arms and into her Dalish cousin's embrace.

As she was greeted by her family, Anders and Niall stepped forward, the mages stepping forward as well to check for injuries that would require healing.

"What defenses have ye set?" Ogren asked as his green eyes swept over the upper walkways the encircled the alienage. There he spotted archers – both Dalish and city born elves – had taken up strategic positions while on the ground, and near the entrances of both gates – the one they had entered through and the northern gate through which they must pass – stood elves armed with sword, daggers and shields.

"As you can see," Theron straightened, pride in his voice as he addressed the dwarven warrior, "we have set up perimeters, prepared to defend ourselves."

Turning toward the elven mage, the dwarf gave a nod of approval. "Did good, elf," Ogren praised as he stepped back to Adela's side, "Good job considering the short time ye had to prepare."

The Dalish mage and Shianni exchanged a smile, a small blush brightening the red-head's cheeks. "It may have been outlawed for elves to retain weapons," Adela offered, not missing the exchange between her cousins. Turning to look at Ogren, who had little knowledge of the laws of human lands, she offered her own smile. "But my mother made certain that, should it come to it, the alienage would be able to protect itself."

Shianni and Soris nodded, the male adding, "Aunt Adaia had a hand in training some of us in how to handle weapons," lifting one of the daggers. It was an old weapon, the edge, although obviously sharp, jagged with old knicks. "Auntie made certain that her family, especially, could protect themselves."

The elves within the group nodded, those of the Tabris and Mahariel families, and those who had been part of the alienage, had known the enigmatic Dalish warrior who had fought at King Maric's side. The humans in their midst turned a slight circuit, noting how easily many of the elves - all of varying ages, with the youngest being approximately Adela's age – held blade or bow. Those others wore their own weapons a bit more tensely, but no less fiercely as they glared out toward the northern gate, from which the sounds of the approach of a dangerous enemy quickly approached.

"They're making their way to the northern gate," a young blond elf quietly remarked, his handsome face twisted slightly with fear as he clutched his bow.

"Then," Theron turned, grasping his twisted wood staff in a long fingered, calloused hand, "we shall have to make them regret that decision."

DA:O

Roland's group met small pockets of darkspawn, made up mostly of warriors and rogues. Thanks in no small part to his senses tingling just before they met with residence, the Warden was able to warn his non-Warden companions of their approach with enough advance warning to make preparations.

Once they cleared the gates separating the common area of the city with the noble district, however, is when they encountered greater – and more powerful – foes.

The Templar training the former knight had received at the hands of Alistair was put to great use as the air crackled with lightening and fire, spells cast by the genlock emissary that stood upon the stairway that led from the common area gates up and into the noble district. As Morrigan glared at the spell caster, casting out her own fire and ice, the Warden pulled in his reserves, focusing upon the magic that poured from the genlock rather than the genlock itself. With a cry of "For Fereldan!" the Warden-knight pushed outward with willpower and lyrium-enhanced power to dissipate the power that permeated the air.

As the spells of the genlock sputtered out, the magic cast by the Wilder witch remained unaffected. Ice and fire rained down upon the emissary and those darkspawn unfortunate enough to remain nearby, and several fell to the mage's powerful spell.

Noting that Leliana and Zevran had each disappeared into the shadows, Roland hoisted and braced his shield, favoring the sword and board style of fighting the foes who continued to bar their entrance into the noble district. With a look to the beautiful, fierce witch at his side, the pair paced with one another as they approached those foes that yet remained, barring their entrance.

DA:O

The great blade, tarnished now with the brackish blood of darkspawn foes, swept out, slicing through the large hurlock's boiled armor, cleaving into the shoulder. Snarling, the beast struggled to free itself from Asala, causing more damage to it before The Sten viciously tore the huge sword from the creature. As the darkspawn stumbled back, snarling out its anger and pain, the qunari warrior pivoted upon one foot, his greatsword sweeping outward, striking the head from the dark creature's neck. As it fell to the ground, black blood spurting from the garish wound, the qunari turned away, not remaining to watch its fall to the ground as his lavender eyes sought out a new victim.

As he lifted his father's sword, the silverite runes that danced along its length gleaming despite the lack of sunshine, Alistair raised his head, panting as The Sten made his way to the young king's side. Both warriors glanced about the battlefield. Many human warriors lay upon the ground, unmoving and never to rise again. More than twice that number of darkspawn lay just as still and silent.

Alistair's eyes sought out the broken front gates, watching as more of the dark tide poured through. Though the warriors of Fereldan had caused more than twice the damage to their foes, their dark enemy were a seemingly unrelenting, replenishing torrent of evil against them.

Taking a breath, Alistair turned to watch as Loghain made his way toward him, Eamon striding confidently at the general's side. Alistair allowed a moment of surprise at how robust the elder statesman of Redcliff seemed, covered from head to toe in the dark blood of the tainted creatures, his helm held in one hand, longsword held as easily in his hand as though he were a man half his age. The young man had to remind himself that despite Eamon being Loghain's junior by about a dozen years, the Arl had spent most of his life at the statesman's table than upon the battlefield. Now, however, it almost seemed as though he had spent his entire life as a warrior.

Then the surrounding reality returned as a fierce cry rose up from beyond the gates. Gauntleted hands clenching blade and shield, the king turned, horrified as the hulking form a giant, armored ogre brought down the remainder of the gates, and more of the dark tide poured through.

Gathering their courage, the human soldiers and knights of Fereldan gave out their own answering war cry, following as their king led the charge.

Alistair's shield met Hurlock flesh, tearing and bashing as he raised his sword to deflect the jagged black blade of the darkspawn. Grinding his teeth, the warrior moved his shield forward, striking with heavily armored shoulder to further open the tear along the hurlock's chest. Turning on his heel, leading with his blade, the young Grey Warden jabbed out with his blade, driving it deeply into the chest of the beast, taking barely any time to tear it free before he continued his turn to launch himself forward toward another foe.

From her perch upon the battlements, Wynne cast down upon those warriors spells of rejuvenation and healing, the strain showing upon her aged features as she reached into one pocket to pull forth a vial of blue lyrium.

Then, beyond the gates, those within the inner confines of the gated commons could hear it. An answering shout, battlecries rising from more than two dozen throats. Not understanding where the extra reinforcements may have come from, Alistair did not question their good fortune as he sliced through the throat of an approaching gunlock, and spotted those darkspawn from the back of the advancing group fall to the approaching reinforcements.

Cheered by the arrival of new allies, the embattled soldiers gave a great war cry of their own as they drove themselves forward, impaling their foes upon sword, axe and polearm, seeking to cleave a path to those who sought to enter on their behalf.

DA:O

Arrows rained down upon the dark tide from the high walls of the alienage. Theron and the human mages cast spells into their midst, meeting spell for spell against the genlock emissary that had accompanied their foes. Those who fought with blade and shield clashed against the darkspawn warriors, meeting infernal instinct with the desire to defend hearth and home with equal fury.

Adela stood upon the ground, her mother's bow taut as she took aim upon the ogre that had met Ogren and several Dalish warriors just beyond the northern gate. She heard rather than saw the genlock rogue that had blurred into the shadows, sweeping forward with its tainted, black blade to try and pierce her back. Shifting her shoulder, pivoting upon one heel, the elven archer spun, bringing her bow around as a melee weapon, to knock the blade from the gnarled hand of the genlock as it skittered across the tough leather of her armor. Regaining her footing, facing the grinning death mask features of the darkspawn, she pulled free Fang, striking outwards, with both bow and blade to disarm the beast.

Dancing back, the pair of rogues faced one another, the dark chuckles of the genlock reaching the elf's ears, even above the roar and clash of the surrounding battles. Shifting slightly upon the balls of her feet, the elf lunged forward with her blade, bow held back slightly as she swept her blade out, and across the beady eyes of the genlock, bringing her bow about to strike it squarely in the face as it gave out a shriek of pain and stumbled backward. Dropping her bow, the elf pulled free the short sword holstered at her hip, the blade that had once belonged to Duncan, and bringing it forward, drove it into the disoriented beast's chest.

Twisting, she pushed herself forward, driving the heavily enchanted blade deeper, piercing through the tough hide, muscle and finally heart of the darkspawn.

Breathing heavily, she turned, rushing forward, gracefully bending to grasp hold of her bow as she quickly resumed her place in near the gates, adding her own spray of arrows to those that continued to rain from above.

DA:O

Concealed within the shadows, the former Crow assassin easily skirted the perimeters set by the darkspawn, chuckling darkly to himself as he easily slipped from shadowed corner to shadowed corner, plunging poisoned blade into the unprotected necks of several unsuspecting creatures.

This was battle, and the elven assassin tried not allow himself to dwell too much upon the fate of his lover and his best friend. He trusted that Niall and Adela would take care of each other. Yet, as he danced from shadowy niche to a more protected outlay, he could not help but wonder and feel concern for the two who meant more to him than any other.

Should either fall, he knew that he still had a duty to carry out. He held no allegiance to the nation of Fereldan. Not even for his own homeland. However, for Niall, for Adela, he would fight, sacrificing his own life's blood if necessary.

Shaking his head against such thoughts, the assassin pushed them aside, focusing his attention upon those foes that barred the path into the noble district. Those dark enemies that prevented their entry.

Darting quickly forward, the elf's blade sank into the corrupted flesh of yet another genlock warrior, too unwary to pay attention to what lay in the shadows, and far too much attention upon the approaching warrior and witch who were easily felling foes with blade and shield, staff and spell.

DA:O

The war cries from without had taken form, mingling with one another to form a near incoherent shout of human and elven voices.

"For Redcliff!" Ser Perth shouted as he clipped the large Hurlock in the shoulder with his tower emblazoned shield, his longsword sweeping forward to block the raised blade of the creature. To his side, Tecumseh's great blade cleaved through several of the darkspawn as he added his own non-verbal warcry to those of the other Chasind warriors, scattered among the Wolves, human soldiers and Dalish hunters who engaged the darkspawn just outside of Denerim's gates from ground and trees.

Chuckling, Perth put his weight behind his shield, crashing past the darkspawn's defenses, to bring himself nearly eye to chin of the beast. Face scrunched against the onslaught of foul breath that wisped against his senses, he brought his shield abruptly upwards, the sharp tip slicing easily through the unprotected underside of the creature's chin, driving the silverite metal upwards with enough force to break the creature's jaw. Gurgling in agony, the beast sought to bring its own weapon to bare, but was unable to do so before the knight brought back his own arm, and then drove his blade forward, sinking the sharpened metal deeply into the darkspawn's chest. Twisting the blade savagely, the knight of Redcliff stepped backwards, pulling his blade free, and then finally decapitating the Hurlock with one powerful strike.

An answering chuckle reached his ear, and the knight turned to stare at the towering figure of the Chasind warlord as he wiped blood and bile from his face, scowling at the stench of it. He glanced back at his sole kill, and then turned to regard the cleaved bodies of five Hurlock who lay not far from the Chasind's feet.

"Well, it's not like we're keeping score, right?" The knight asked, a grimace on his face as he regarded the thick blood that coated his blade.

The only answer he received was another deep throated chuckle, and then he found himself pulled back into the fray as he and the warriors who had rescued him and his fellow knights at Redcliff sought to break the wall of darkspawn that fought to enter the beleaguered city.

DA:O

Fierce gouts of flame burst from raised fingertips, engulfing the encroaching genlock within their fiery reaches. As the Dalish mage pulled back, preparing another spell, a buzzing sound rose, and Theron watched as the Warden mage transformed into a flurry of buzzing insects, and then dark out to envelope one genlock that had escaped the fiery death the Dalish mage had visited upon its fellows.

Impressed, for he could recall no lore nor magic within the Dalish books and scrolls he had read of such magic, the wild elven mage thrust out his arms, and gouts of lightening danced from his fingertips, engulfing a throng of darkspawn. As the power touched each of the fell foes, their corrupted bodies arched, gnarled hands clenching helplessly upon the weapons as, helpless to defend themselves, they fell to spell, blade and arrow.

Straightening, he watched as Niall's form shifted back into his human form, and walked back to meet up with him. Both men surveyed the battlefield, well satisfied that they and their army of alienage and Dalish elves had decimated their foe by more than three-quarters their original size. Without a word, the pair nodded at one another, and took off in opposite directions, each determined to end this battle quickly.

DA:O

"We've taken the gates!"

The cry rose up, followed by ragged cheers from the throats of exhausted warriors, and Alistair, tugging his blade free from a fallen darkspawn victim, raised his weary head, gazing about him.

A half dozen Hurlock and genlock remained standing, but they, too, would fall.

Turning about, the young man watched as humanoid forms appeared at the gates, some stumbling, others held aloft by others, while still others rushed forward. Cries of elation rose into the air as the dust settled, revealing those warriors that had trekked to Redcliff, returning to them along with the knights of the arling.

Alistair's brown eyes settled upon the stiffened form of Eamon, noting the tension that had stiffened the man's body. Dismissing it as an aftereffect of the battle, the young king made his way forward to greet and thank the warriors that had assisted them in defending the front gates.

DA:O

As the Hurlock general fell to Ogren's battleaxe, darkness filled the sky. Terrified and hushed voices filled the air. Shouldering her bow, Adela glanced up, panting as she raised a hand to wipe the blood and sweat from her brow. Tense, Theron and Anders made their way to the young elf's side, eyes raised to watch as the corrupted dragon banked overhead. A pain filled screech erupted in the air, shaking the ground and causing those below to raise shaking hands to pained ears.

Cursing and spitting, Ogren made his way to Adela's side, dark green eyes fixed upon the form of the Archdemon as it suddenly altered its course, and set its trajectory toward the tower of Fort Drakon.

"Just as Riordan predicted," Niall observed as he stepped behind the elven Warden, hands raised to cast upon her a healing spell.

Blue eyes still following the uneven path of the dragon's flight, Adela nodded absently, brow furrowed. Frowning, she suddenly stepped away from the group, running to the bridge that separated the alienage from the gate leading into the noble district.

Eyes still fixed upward, now narrowed, she watched as the dragon crashed to the tower, wings flapping helplessly as it sought to regain its footing.

"I think it's injured," she whispered as Niall, Ogren, Anders and Theron joined her side.

The Dalish mage, eyes lifted and narrowed, nodded slightly.

"I think you're right," it was Niall who responded, hand raised to shield his eyes from the glare of the gray sun, his Warden senses stretching outward, straining against the distance, to acknowledge and confirm the elf's observations.

Taking a breath, Adela turned to face the alienage, watching as the elves stepped out cautiously, eyes searching out any other foes. Taking a deep breath, fighting against the nausea that rose in her throat, she turned away. "We need to finish this." Her voice, albeit soft, held strength and determination. Those who had accompanied her from the front gates nodded.

"Theron," the Dalish mage turned his full attention to his younger cousin. "Remain here. I have a feeling that, until we deal with the Archdemon, more darkspawn may threaten this area."

"We'll watch your backs," her Dalish cousin confirmed, nodding as Junar and Pol made their way to the small group.

With a glance at her companions, the elven Warden gave a slight shrug of her shoulders, and then led the group away and over the bridge.

DA:O

Disbelief filled his heart and displayed itself fully upon his face as Roland stared down at the broken form of Riordan. The senior Warden had fallen from the back of the Archdemon, and crashed to the ground below.

Green eyes glancing upward, he scanned the sky, determining that the senior Warden had somehow leaped from one of the towers onto the Archdemon's back while it was in flight. Taking a breath to steady himself, he turned his gaze once more to the ravaged body at his feet, noting that the Warden had not teethered himself to the tower or Archdemon.

Disbelief turned to outright anger at the man's foolish attempt to bring down the fallen god on his own.

"Just couldn't share the victory, could you?" the young man asked the corpse, frowning down at the waste of effort and life. Sighing, he finished, "We really could have used your help at the fort."

Then, he raised his head, glanced at his companions, and then led the small group up the stairs, and into the noble district.