Shades of purple and orange twisted from the horizon by the time we reach the ancient stone fortress. Broken towers standing vigil along the barren cliff overlooking the marsh below. The wind had grown steadily more chill the further south we ventured in the past two weeks but now there was a bite on the humid breeze. Duncan continued his steady march in spite of the age present in the grey hair near his temples. Despite the difficulty I had been having keeping pace the past few days. At this point, my legs were no longer aching as much as they were in a numb fatigue. This whole damned trek was one constant, miserable march only stopping for sleep. The first few days I would hold hope that every time the Warden would glance back at me or hesitate to check a map we would be able to break for rest. And every time I would bite back my whining continue to trail after him. No mercy for the dying it would seem. But now that we were coming into Ostagar the only though on my mind was finding the driest piece of dirt out of the wind and lying there till my tainted blood finished me off.
I was surprisingly near to tears in my frustration as we were halted at a bridge by an entourage of flashy plated humans. Afraid I would lose my momentum, I began rocking from heel to heel in preparation for the final leg to find a decent hole to fall into. One human, this one fair skinned-blue eyed, with hair a white-yellow like aspen wood, and dressed in polished golden armor had stepped forward and began talking animatedly with Duncan. Turning slightly from the overly loud humans I squinted my against the ache behind my eyes to survey the weathered grey stone. Pieces from chips to whole sections missing from the arching and towering structures, creeping vines engulfing much of the remaining stone, and a mixed odor of stagnant water and peat moss lingered. Now no longer moving the chill began to sink deeper towards my bones and I began to rub my gloved hands on the sides of my exposed thighs. Few humans wandered the surrounding area but a low clatter of sounds could be heard from across the bridge ahead.
"-Dahlia Mahariel, a Dalish Elf. Dahlia this is King Cailan." my introduction pulled my focusback to humansjust asDuncan nodded toward the heavily gold-plated human in front of us. King? This is the human king? He looks like an adult with all that massive armor but he's got the demeanor of a eyes and smile gave a countenance of someone much younger than I would expect of the human mylack of response, the King's onlysmiledwiderandan excitement shined in his eyes.
"Dahlia Mahariel of the Dalish!" he beamed, tucking a pale golden strand of hair away. "Well let me just say it is an honor to meet you. A brave and noble people, the Dalish. The commander has quite the eye for picking recruits so I'm absolute you will be phenomenal among the Wardens."
"Thank-thank you...your majesty." The phrase formed awkwardly. Civility was definitely not what I expected, especially from him. Though I returned the grace, I kept my spine straight and my gaze steady. I may be joining the Wardens but I will not start bowing to these shemlen.
The King snickered, "Please. No need for such formalities. The Wardens are not my subjects but my brothers in arms!" He winked and turned back to Duncan. The hell is with this human. "So, tell me Duncan, are you to stay this time? If you keep running off you'll miss all of the fun"
"I shall, your Majesty. I must induct our newest recruits and assess the order. Though I trust Reyor has kept everybody in line."
"Oh, lighten up on them. Your Constable has been exceptional in the field. Besides my scouts are telling me that this might not even be a real Blight. Their numbers seem higher every battle but...in truth, there's no sightings of a dragon or anything else indicial of an Old God. Without the Archdemon, this looks to not be anything more than a particularly large upsurge."
"If I may say so, I would not settle on a theory so soon. Without the Archdemon, this measure of darkspawn should not be able to organize. That they have amassed here says something and-"
"Yes, yes. I trust you Duncan. Though I must admit, I had hoped for a battle like in the tales but it just seems as if...ah, here comes the search party." the king's enthusiasm withered as another soldier in silver plate approached us, "Seems I've been gone longer than Loghain's liking. Well, here I must leave you. I will speak to you later, Duncan. Best of wishes to you, Dahlia." With a flash of a smile and a nod, the king turned on his heel and strode away toward a tower to our right.
Duncan sighed and turned to me. "It is true there has been no sight of the Archdemon. But none of this would have happened without something commanding the darkspawn. The King does not yet know it, but we are just early. For whatever reason, the Archdemon has decided to stay back from the fighting."
"Probably waiting us out." I remarked, working to remove the tie from my hair. Damn this blood fever. Sweating one minute and freezing the next, "Sizing up the target. Waiting for us to let down our guard." Which is exactly the strategy I've used when hunting a particularly dangerous animal. "The battle's here. Archdemon or no, it's an organized force. And a force of monsters that shouldn't be allowed to wander."
Duncan nodded, "Either way, I cannot ask the King to draw back and wait for reinforcements without further proof."
A dry and bitter chuckle escaped me without warning, "If he reveres the Grey Wardens as much as he seems, your word should be enough. You said the Wardens are the only ones who can stop this right? Then he would be a fool and unfit leader to ignore you."
Duncan snapped his hard gaze back to me. "I'm going to ask for you to mind your words while in camp. Be mindful of the position you will soon hold." His words raking against my pride, I folded my arms, too tired to argue. "Unfortunately, there are those who do not follow such ideas. However, I must find the others before they retire for the evening. You are free to do as you wish for the rest of the day. On the south side of camp is where the other recruits have set their tents. There should be a spare for you. In the morning, your first order is to find a Warden named Alistair. He will be your superior until the Joining. In the meantime, get some rest."
Relief overwhelmed me almost on the spot, "I almost gave up on that. Wait. Hold up. Why can't we do this Joining now? Go ahead and get this taken care of?"
"I understand your eagerness but-"
"Sure about that?"
"But." Duncan cut his eyes at me again, "The Joining Ritual is not something to be done so easily. There are preparations to be made and fulfilled beforehand." Gods have mercy. "I promise you, we will see you through it as soon as possible."
"Yeah, sure. I'll see you tomorrow." Duncan's sighed before nodding to me and making off toward some stairs, off to the side of the bridge. My limbs growing heavier with each moment that passed, I braced myself once more and began the slow walk across the ever expanding stone bridge. Except no sooner than I stepped onto the bridge connecting the two sides of the fortress, the sharp Wilder air raked across every inch of exposed skin of my arms, legs, and midsection. I forcefully grabbed and tucked the edges of my cloak across my front. Little good that did, my cloak was thin, aged wool and only sufficient for a chilly night in the Bercillian forest. The clan hadn't left the forest in eight -nine? years? No it was the last gathering of the clans. So, almost 9? Alright, first buy is a new cloak.
Despite the unnatural evening cold, the smell of campfires and smoking meat rolling on the wind from the valley below was a welcome distraction. Ostagar, he called it. It certainly had seen it's fair share of battles. Sides of the battlements and bridges had been blown out, leaving aged scars from battles likely lost to history. Some so old, its hard to tell where the battle scar ended and the natural erosion of the stone began.
My hackles rose as more human soldiers continued across the bridge toward and passed me but none payed me an ounce of attention. And yet I still felt so vulnerable. An elf woman, a Dalish, walking alone in an encampment of hundreds or thousands of armed humans. Duncan assured me the races were of no concern amongst the Grey Wardens, but it's hard to believe. And how many of these regular soldiers hold the same belief?
I felt the cold twisted metal ring on my right pointer finger. Keeper Marethari's parting gift before I left the clan, a reminder of the Oath of the Dales. Keep your head held high. Never submit. Right, not too hard.
Another gust threatened to set my teeth chattering as I neared the other end of the bridge and the rest of the fortress. Or maybe it's just worse on this end. Barking could be heard behind the pillars and walls. My interest now piqued hearing there howls. Only time I had actually ever seen one was at the last clans meet. Little thief stole into the smoke house. Keeper had sent some older hunters to subdue the creature but it was a combined effort with myself, Tamlen, and Fenarel that finally captured him. He turned out to be such a sweet boy but too much trouble to let run loose during the festivities.
"Good evening, miss," my head snapped up to a guard in heavy chain mail armor.
"Oh. Um, good evening."
"You must be one of Duncan's new recruits? Apologies I'd just heard he was back in passing," Duncan must be more popular among the human's than I gave him credit. "Just a soldier of Dragon's Peak myself. Nice to meet you. If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." He smiled, the armored helm doing little to hide his enthusiasm. His steel grey eyes, shining proudly.
"Thank you but I'm alright for now." The soldier bowed slightly. Looking toward the bridge then back at the young soldier, "Are you a lone sentry here?"
His eyes darted around before nodding back to me, "I am. But why, is a mystery to me as there is no danger expected from the north road. Just gave me a sword and told me to be on the lookout. Though mine's not to question."
Catching hold of my cloak from a particularly strong breeze I wondered, "Seems a waste of a sword arm doesn't it?"
"Best not to dwell on the decisions of our generals," he whispered, head tilted forward. "Thankfully Bann Sighard is not-" he snapped his mouth shut, looking perturbed. He continued in a normal volume, "Nevermind, it's getting late. I'm sure you'd like to rest after your journey. Welcome to Ostagar." With that he fixed his attention back down the bridge. My cue to leave, I guess.
"Of course. Thank you," the soldier didn't give a response as I continued my tired shuffle. Turning around a pillar, the camp came into full view and all I could do was star in awe.
Never in my nineteen years have I every seen anything human besides glimpses of the caravans and villages when wewandered to close to the forest's edge. This must be what their cities looked like. Humans bustled and gathered in all corners and every space in between, handfuls navigated through the crowds, campfires, and armaments. Soldiers in chain, splint, and impeccably plated armors. Others in lighter but no less adorned leather and scaled armors. Groups of women and men in robes of many bright colors. Flashes of light off to my side lit up an alcove. Magic! But it seemed different to the Keeper's somehow. Obscured by a wall, I approached the only good opening for viewing. Determined to ignore the two massive, fully plated humans standing nearby. A group of humans and elves both stood in a circle, each clothed in more of the vibrant robes, hands held aloft as clouds of silver and blue magic danced between them. Magic so similar and yet something about it still so different.
As I inched closer for a better view of one of the mages holding a severe looking staff, an armored arm swung out to block me almost hitting me. "Excuse me ma'am, the mages must not be interrupted," the guard spoke behind his equally large, and visually obstructive, helm.
"I wasn't trying to interrupt, just watch. What kind of spell are they casting?" I responded, trying to ignore my shock of how quietly he was able to approach.
The second knight approached, crossing his arms, "They are preparing for the coming battle. They need all the concentration they can get without nosey knife ears slinking about," I could feel the heat rush to my face.
The gall. A third voice quickly interjected from behind me, "Excuse me, Ser Templar, is something the matter?" Turning, an elderly woman approached with an ease and grace betraying of her advanced years, her soft, gentle voice held a silent defiance. Her snow, white hair pulled back neatly and ruby red robes pristine.
"This elf was trying to sneak into the Chanting Circle," I shot him a glare. Surely Duncan wouldn't mind if I put one or two soldiers back in there places.
"Ah, you're the new Grey Warden recruit we've heard about. Why stand here watching something as boring as a Chanting Circle. Come. Walk with me," Without looking back, the old woman walked off. I threw one last glare back at the knights before following "I imagine you haven't eaten since you arrived. Join me?"
I nodded though the woman never looked to me to affirm, only continued on expectantly. As we wove through the crowds I felt an increasing sense of unease at my back. This place was too busy, too crowded. Too many people smashed into one spot. But the promise of food hooked me to this shem. Real. Cooked. Food. Not the rations we've had getting down here.
"Duncan is not a man easily impressed. You should be proud. My name is Wynne by the way," Wynne smiled gently at me.
"Ma serannas. I'm Dahlia." I frowned the headache flared behind my eyes.
"Though the Wardens hold much respect, it would be unwise to antagonize the Chantry's Templars," Wynne warned giving me a chastising glance.
"Wait. Those were the mage hunters?" a mix of fear and anger reach its way into my chest. I had heard stories of those humans who hunted down the clans and abducted the Keepers and mage apprentices.
"Yes. I imagine your history with them is unpleasant but they're not all unsavory, however. Many are quite agreeable people. And the Circle is not a such a bad place to live and grow as a mage."
"Yes, being abducted from your family is small compared to the-." Oooh, calm down. Light headed.
Wynne sighed, "I can not defend their methods but the system exists whether we like it or not. It does no good to dwell on things we can not change." She spoke softly but firmly, stopping our walk behind a line of other soldier.
"Is that supposed to make it all alright?" I grumbled, now contemplating escape. Food isn't worth this shemlen's company. The change of the wind to carry the smell of food kept me rooted to the line. The aroma almost eliciting a groan.
"I never said that. Just that there are good and evil on all sides and one's efforts are best focused on what they can influence rather than what they can not."
"So they get a free pass to their attitudes because they hold the controlling power?" I sighed again, tucking my arms and cloak back around me. Out of the wind but into the growing shade.
Wynne raised an eyebrow at my cloak but nothing more, "It's been a decent while since the battles have started. Tensions have been high as of late." She sighed. "I'm curious. Why so interested in the mages' Chanting Circle anyway?"
"We have mages in the clans. Back there, it looked...different."
Wynne furrowed her brow in contemplation as we moved closer to the maid serving bowls to the soldiers. "I may not know of the Dalish magic, but the only other kind of magic I am aware of besides what we use is blood magic. But I may be wrong on that assumption, too. There is much we could learn from each other I'm sure."
"Blood? There's no blood involved in the Keeper's magic that I'm aware." We both were finally handed our bowls and I resumed to follow her to some seating away from the rabble of the other soldiers. "So, Wynne, what is it you do?"
"Oh me?" She started, eyes softening, as we settled onto our seats. "I was originally one of the delegates from the Circle, however, I seem to be healing injuries and mixing medicine more than anything." My gaze falling to her uncalloused hands. So, she's a mage also. I turned back to my too hot stew. Too soon I could feel the fog of exhaustion settling back over me from just the comfort of sitting with a hot bowl to hold onto. Unexpectedly, my stomach turned at the first taste. "If I may ask, is there anything I can do for you my dear? Pardon my assumption but you seem a bit worn."
"I'm fine," I replied, maybe a little too quickly. Looking up to her, her gaze seemed to read right through me. "Just a long trip," I fidgeted with the overcooked pieces of -root vegetable? to avoid her scrutinizing gaze. Finally, she relented, and turned to her own food. For some time we simply sat in silence and ate. Well I mainly sipped the broth.
Wynne promptly pushed her bowl towards me. Confused, I grabbed it and she was on her feet in an instant, "Just a moment dear," she smiled and strode off.
Great. The other tables were heavily occupied by an array of soldiers. We had picked two seats off to ourselves to have some quiet, so I guess I'm holding them both then. By now the sun has fell well behind the trees, the sky quickly losing its light. More fires were lit across the camp. Soldiers could be heard drinking and playing games, some seemingly engaging others in stories and tales. Perhaps stories of recent exploits. One soldier acted out a sword fight as others jeered along. In another group, a young woman in chainmail bantered with another, with onlookers erupting in laughter. Older soldiers sat together, their antics much more restrained but their smiles just as genuine, if not a little heavier.
It's so strange. A couple guards acted with as much malice as I've been told to expect. And so much is strange and new but from the outside looking in, these humans acted amongst themselves just as members of her clan. Just as companionable, almost as familial. Who would've suspected my first journey outside the clan, would be joining the human's world.
Wynne came back into view a few moments later carrying two cups. "Here you go, my dear," she said as she offered one of the cups. "It's an herbal tea. It'll help settle you."
I nodded in thanks as we swapped the cup for her bowl. Balancing the bowl on my knees, I wrapped my hands around the tea and began to sip. My stomach tolerated it, even if it was a bit bitter for my taste. A warmth spread from my stomach out to my fingers and toes and replacing the uncomfortable burning I'd experienced since I awoke in the Keeper's aravel. A sense of ease followed the warmth and muscles began to relax I forgot I was still holding. We silently sipped our tea and soups while watching the rest of the crowd interact. Though I could feel her eyes upon me frequently, I made no mention. Most humans and city elves probably haven't seen a Dalish before. My Ghilan'nain vallaslin must be weird to them. That's so strange to think.
"I am actually quite surprised Duncan succeeded in finding a Dalish clan. Be assured I mean this with no offense but I didn't think the Dalish trusted humans enough to allow one as company?"
I stirred my soup before settling on a half-truth, "He found me while I was away from camp. He found my clan on his own afterward. The Keeper knew of the Wardens enough to recognize and allow his visit." I finished off my dinner to try and avoid answering.
"As I mentioned before dear, you must be a very talented fighter to catch Duncan's eye," she smiled, a gentleness settling about her.
"Thank you. But, if I might ask, you don't seem to be the type to go to war?"
Wynne immediately thrown her head and laughed, "You're not the first to question. But rest assured, I may be old but I can hold my own more than most," She sipped her tea before continuing. "Either way, I will not be fighting. Many mages much younger than I, and much more capable of taking a punch, will be fighting alongside the King's men. My talents are best put to receive the injured when they return from the battle.
"So I should expect to see a lot you in the coming days," I was a little surprised of the relief I felt for the elderly woman. I know I shouldn't make assumptions; she seems the same age as Keeper Marethari and only a fool would think to face her in a duel. Still, darkspawn aren't normal opponents.
"I hope not," she chuckled. "I hope to see you walking right past my aid station. Might I ask about your skills?" she asked, eyes flickering to my bow strapped to my back.
"I'm a hunter for my clan. I've got basic knife handling and defense from hunting and dressing my kills. And I have Dar'Misu but my sword skills are...decent enough if needed. My bow is my skill. There's few back home that could outshoot me," I grinned, though tiredly, allowing myself some pride.
"Dar'Misu?"
"Oh, um," I pulled one of my curved blades from its fastening on my hip. "They're short swords I guess you could say. But more durable than your human steel."
"They're quite handsome. I'm sure one of your fellow Wardens will help you spar."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
We soon fell back into silence as we finished our meals and listen to one of the nearby humans telling a story of some knight of old. I jolted at Wynne's hand resting on my knee, embarrassingly realizing I had just dozed off in my seat. Thankfully, both my tea and soup empty and set to the side. "Ara seranna'ma. Seems the day is finally catching up to me," I rubbed at the pounding behind my eyes and gathered my things. "Would you happen to know how to get to the Warden tents from here?"
"Yes, its on the other side of those," She said pointing back into the dark behind her. "Just make a bee line and the second fire should be Wardens. Leave those and I'll return them to the priestess."
"Thank you. It was nice to meet you. Good night, Wynne."
"Good night, Dahlia." Wynne replied back gently, motioning me away.
Making my way carefully through the dark, my mind wandered back to the clan. I began running through the old stories in my head. On a night not too dissimilar to this, I would've been wrapped up near a fire with the clan and listening to Hahren Paivel's recounts. Sometimes I would even be the one telling it to the younger dalen. No matter my age, history and lore were some of my favorite pleasures. All those stories: the best of us, the worst of us, greatest turning points that dictate our present and future. Quite literally, if the exalted marches hadn't happed, where would I be now? Where would I have grown? In some city of our own. Housed, attending social events, and always returning to hearth at the end of the day. To my parents? But would I even be the same person? We are the embodiment of all that has come before us. That knowledge is both pressuring and humbling. But how long will it be before I hear another story from Hahren? I could recount one as before I slept tonight. But which?
I found myself standing at the edge of the glow of the second fire. No one paid me any mind as I surveyed them. This group, a little more drunk but a little more solemn, were quite distinct from the one I left moments ago. Many humans and a couple dwarves sat around the fire. Most of their armor of similar make and style of Duncan's.
A burly man with a rust-colored beard straggling halfway down his chest nearby spoke up, "Need something, little lady?" At that, the rest of the group fell silent and turned to me.
Ignoring the irk at the pet name in favor of finding my bed quickly, I asked, "Duncan said there was a spare tent for me?"
A few smiled and a few others just returned to their conversations. Unfortunately, most decided to continue staring at me, but I kept my gaze trained on the old knight taking another swig of his mug. Just ignore them. He slammed his mug down. "About bloody time you showed up," he chortled and pointed down a row of tents to my right. "Third one on the left."
I nodded at him in thanks and made my way. My tent was decent size of thick oiled canvas. Upon entering I unclasped my pack from my belt and threw it to the ground. My dar'misus, hunting knife, medicine bag, arrows, and bow followed into the same pile. With enough torch light from outside I managed my way to the bedroll and curled in; cloak, boots, and all.
Finally laying down I could feel the taint burning its way through my muscles and joints despite the chill in my bones. Maybe it was the food and a tent, but the pains didn't feel quite so bad tonight.