PARALLEL CONTENT: GENESIS OF A DRAGON CH 24

9:30 Dragon, 10th of Harvestmere

He was good at runnin. He'd been doing it most of his life. First from his drunkard of an old man, then from guards, sometimes from other crooks.

But Daveth had never run quite this fast before, moving with a newfound speed and strength offered to him by a magic force he didn't at all understand. He adjusted his grip on Duncan's limp body—he was hard to keep a decent hold on from the mix of water, mud, and blood covering his form.

He blinked the rain away from his eyes, trying to keep tabs on the pretty lady soldier and her brother running along with him. Daveth didn't know where they were going. He didn't think they even knew, just away from the darkspawn they were barely managing to outpace.

All the other Wardens were probably dead by now. He hadn't seen his fellow recruits down in the valley, but then again there had been a lot of bodies he hadn't checked. If they'd been anywhere near the front line as it collapsed, he didn't have a lot of hope for their survival.

He and Duncan were all that was left of the Wardens, and Daveth didn't even feel like he really counted, and the old bugger might still die of his wounds at this rate.

Their small group crashed through branches and underbrush… they'd run clear of the camp and into the outskirts of the Wilds. In a weird way it was probably safer than the fort—all the darkspawn had flooded out of the trees to attack.

He didn't know how long they ran, but they kept going until he couldn't hear the sounds of battle behind them anymore, and then even further beyond that. It was all he could do to keep his reactions in pace with his body, side-stepping trees and hopping over errant logs as they raced further and further away.

The magical aura empowering his body was beginning to fade. Daveth glanced to Hawke, who despite not being the only one unencumbered with carrying an unconscious body, looked pale and about to collapse herself.

Daveth slowed, allowing his pace to roll to a walk.

"Do you think we're safe?"

"I don't think there's such a thing as 'safe' anymore," Carver said, also slowing to match his pace. Daveth had to give him credit—he was quick for such a big guy. But maybe that was just the magic.

"Over there," Hawke pointed across the bog to a large tree. It was dead and twisted, but split down the middle and hollow inside. "We need to take shelter, get a handle on our surroundings… figure out how to get out of here…"

Daveth doubted they'd be able to navigate their way through the Wilds in the dead of night. But what Hawke'd suggested at least seemed like a decent enough spot to bunk down and try to hide from the darkspawn until it was light enough to move.

It was damp and full of mushrooms, moss, and insects inside the hollow of the dead tree, but it was probably better than just sitting out in the open. He tried to make out if any of the plants inside it were the deadly kind Rosaya had been pointing out before… but it was a bit too dark for him to make anything out. He figured at this point they might as well just try their luck.

"This isn't good… they need help," Carver panted, sliding the unconscious king off his back and laying him against the moss-covered bark.

"I did help them. I got us away, didn't I?" Hawke muttered, bent in half with her hands pressed against her legs as she tried to regain her breath.

"You're a mage. Can't you magic them all better?" Daveth said, shooing away the gal's dog as it started sniffing at Duncan's wounds.

"Right, because it's as easy as that," Hawke laugh derisively, sitting back with a plop into the mud. "'Magic them all better.' Ugh. I'm a decent healer, accident prone enough on my own that I get plenty of practice. But I'm almost out of power. If they expire before I can recover my energy…"

"He knows you're an apostate," Carver said, tone low and daggers in his gaze as he and Daveth locked eyes.

"Daveth's fine, Carver, and any templar's he'd tattle on me to already fled along with their precious proper mages," Hawke said, waving him off. "He's not going to be a problem for us. Right, Daveth?"

"So long as you don't turn me into a toad." Daveth held up his hands in surrender. Hawke wasn't creepy like the wilds witches. Until the moment she'd thrown herself from the bridge and dragged him along, she'd seemed perfectly normal. And really, she still seemed pretty normal to him.

"Given that I don't even know how to do that, I think you're safe from any toadification. Frogs, though, are a completely different story," she chuckled.

Daveth did not laugh. He did not want to be an amphibian of any variety, a matter he took quite seriously.

"If you don't mind," Carver said, inspecting the two wounded men lying nearby. "We seriously might want to take a look at these guys. They're in horrible shape."

Daveth began pulling aside Duncan's armor to inspect the severity of his wounds. Hawke joined him at his side. The interior of the hollow tree was illuminated by a dull blue light. It pulsed gently at Hawke's hands, and it made a sound like a low hum.

"He's lost a lot of blood, somethings fucked up with one of his lungs, and he has a pretty bad cut on his leg that looks like it's fucked with his tendons. I should be able to heal that alright, but he might still end up with some compromised mobility…" Reveka said, the light at her hands fading. "He's not in immediate danger, though. Daveth, get your shirt off and make some rough bandages. If we can stop the bleeding I think he'll survive the night even without magical aid."

"If you wanted me to strip, pretty lady, all you had to do was ask," Daveth smirked, pulling off his gear so he could get his undershirt off.

"Trust me, if I wanted you naked I wouldn't need a pretext to make it happen," Hawke rolled her eyes.

"Gross." Carver grimaced.

"Cailan's worse off than I'd feared. His skull cracked like an egg and most of his ribs are broken, not to mention the places he's been stabbed… I don't think I can fix this in a way that makes a difference, not without help," Reveka said, shaking her head and looking at her brother. "I need Bethany."

"Can you get him stable, at least?" Carver asked, peeling off layers of the king's golden armor and casting them aside. More blood began to flow from his wounds with every piece he removed.

"I'll do what I can with what I have," Hawke grimaced, faint blue energy gathering at her hands again. "But don't expect any miracles. Not until I've had a chance to rest."

Hawke worked magic into Cailan while Daveth did his best to bandage Duncan's wounds. Long quiet hung among them as they worked, the reality of what'd happened finally setting in.

What were they supposed to do now? Survive and escape the wilds, sure, but then what? Without the Wardens, and without the king, Daveth wasn't sure what was going to happen in the fight against the Blight. If there would even be a fight to speak of.

Eventually they fell into an uneasy rest, with Carver and him splitting watch in the night so Hawke could regain as much of her power as possible. Splitting the watch felt pointless to Daveth. Wasn't like he'd be sleeping, anyways, not after what'd just happened.

Hawke passed out right away, surprisingly. How anyone could sleep in a spooky forest with an army of darkspawn surely starting to return to it by now was beyond him, but it was probably a good thing for all of them that she'd managed it.

He looked at Duncan and Cailan, both barely more than dead. If they needed more magic to help them, then maybe…

Daveth shot down the idea just as it entered his mind. No, absolutely not, no way was he going to go and try and find the spooky Ashy-Belly woman and her daughter. Just the thought of those golden-eyed witches sent chills down his spine.

If he had to pick between the witches and the darkspawn, he'd take the darkspawn easy.

And the universe seemed to take his hypothetical ponderings as a request to be fulfilled, because he snapped to attention as he saw shadowed silhouettes of hurlocks approaching in the predawn gray.

"Get up, get up!" Daveth shouted, springing to his feet with his bow in his hands, "We've got company, the blighty kind!"

Daveth fired off an arrow at the darkspawn as Hawke muttered a series of expletives and hauled herself to her feet with much effort. He ducked back inside the hollow tree as the darkspawn returned fire, bolts sticking through the dead bark as they impacted.

Carver and Hawke's dog ducked out from behind cover, Hawke following groggily after them with her sword in hand.

Daveth continued to shoot from cover, laying down supportive fire. Hawke didn't use any magic, he noticed, just bladework at her brother's side to take the darkspawn down.

"We need to move," Hawke said, sheathing her sword as they felled the last one. "If they found us, others probably aren't far behind."

"Any chance we could get any of that speed boost from before?" Daveth asked, slinging Duncan's still unconscious body over his shoulder.

"Not if I'm to put King humpty-dumpty back together again," Hawke said wryly.

"Anyone know which way north is?" Carver asked, turning in place briefly as he managed his grip on said unconscious king.

"Hmm… this way, probably." Hawke said, starting off.

"Please tell me you didn't just pick a direction at random," Carver said.

"Ok. I didn't just pick a direction at random." Hawke replied as per his request.

"Asshole," Carver scowled.

"What the fuck were you doing anyways, charging to the front line when everything was collapsing? If you'd have just run back into the fort, I wouldn't have had to use magic to save your ass." Hawke said, reaching out and flicking her sibling hard in the face.

Carver swore and stepped back, rubbing at the red mark now growing across his forehead.

"North's this way, actually," Daveth said, briefly interrupting them and walking past Hawke and towards the correct direction. "Sun's barely up, but if you'd stopped to check for a second you'd have been able to tell."

"I met someone before the battle, he claimed he was a relative of ours. Edmund Amell." Carver huffed, moving to follow Daveth. "He was a Warden, or so he said."

"Oh yeah," Daveth offered. He hadn't known much about the guy other than that he had a tendency to magically set stuff on fire. The scent of burning darkspawn was not one easily forgotten. "He's a Warden Recruit, like me. Or… at least he was."

"Anyways… he told me that the battle would be a loss, that since I was close to the front lines I should try getting Cailan out before it was too late. Didn't think much of it at first. But when I realized what was happening… I felt like I had to try, at least."

"Dumbass," Hawke said, shaking her head. "You were going to get yourself killed."

"What, I should have just left the king to die?" Carver huffed defensively, adjusting the weight of said king he now carried.

"Yes." She replied immediately.

Conversation died at that and they moved north. The sky stayed overcast but the growing light did make the Wilds more passable, if no less gloomy and ominous. Daveth couldn't help but miss the city skyline of Denerim, especially as they waded through a bog full of things trying to kill them.

A screech echoed out across the misty distance. Their party stilled, waiting to see what it was and fearing they already knew the answer.

As it turned out, north was no better than where they'd been before. They found darkspawn again, and easily doubly the number they fought off last time. They dropped their unconscious charges to the side and engaged the darkspawn once more.

It happened again, and again across the hours of the day. Every time they stopped to rest for more than a few moments darkspawn descended on them like flies on shit.

"This is getting us nowhere," Carver huffed after their fourth encounter, bracing himself against a tree. The day was growing long, sun already starting to dip and they'd barely made any progress to getting free of the Wilds.

"I figured we'd have to fight our way out, but this is just ridiculous," Hawke commiserated, again treating Cailan and Duncan's wounds with a gentle flow of healing magic.

She'd been preserving her power for that purpose, but Daveth would be lying if he said he would have minded her using her magic to toss the darkspawn like ragdolls as she had when they first escaped the battlefield.

They lifted their wounded charges and again tried to forge their way through the wilderness.

"Grey Wardens can sense the darkspawn," Daveth said, thinking back to his excursion into the wilds with his fellow recruits. "And… the darkspawn can sense them in return. That's how they keep finding us."

Hawke nodded slowly. She wiped some of the remaining ichorous blood from her sword, casting another glance around at the trees before turning to him with something steely in her gaze.

"Alright. Then we dump the Warden."

Daveth stilled, his heartbeat suddenly loud in his ears as he looked at her. "What?" He tightened his hold on the unconscious old man slung over his shoulders.

"He's leading them right to us," she said, taking another step forward. "We can't outrun the darkspawn like this, not when he's making us an easy target to track."

"You're joking, right?" Daveth laughed without any humor. "We can't leave Duncan behind."

"Look, if he's lucky he wakes up soon and he can limp his own way out of the Wilds," she said, no levity in her voice like there'd always been before. "But I'm not taking him with us if it means it'll get us killed, and at this rate that's exactly what's going to happen."

"No," Daveth said, surprising even himself by the firmness of his tone. "You saw what happened at Ostagar—if we leave him to die, and we're just as bad as Loghain."

"This isn't personal or anything. If it was Cailan they could detect I'd drop him just the same, crown or no," she shrugged. Even Carver looked at her, completely aghast, but Hawke wasn't even apologetic. "I went down in that valley to get you, Carver, not the king or some Warden. Hang everyone else—I'm making sure we get home."

"You don't get it!" Daveth said, backing away as Hawke took another threatening step forward. "He's probably the last Grey Warden left in Ferelden. Without him, there's no one who can stand against the Blight. Leaving him might solve our problems for now, yes, but eventually it just dooms even more people."

"The long term doesn't matter if we're too dead to see it! Let's face it, we have no idea where we are, no clue how to get home, and right now we're lugging around two loads of dead weight," Hawke said, counting the miserable facts off her fingers as she named them. "We have no direction and no help. I'm just saying we shouldn't make this harder on ourselves than it already is, or we'll end up pretty little chunks of meat on darkspawn pikes."

"I do have an idea, you know," Daveth said, glaring at her and moving past her, taking the lead with Duncan still slung over his shoulders.

"You're mentioning this just now?" Carver asked incredulously.

"It's an idea I hate, so yeah. Just now," Daveth said, bracing himself as memories started popping up in his mind. He was from these parts. He knew how to find home, even if it was the last place in Ferelden he'd ever want to go. "I'm from a village to the east. Heading north just has us running into more darkspawn, so we should try and go around. I should be able to find my village from here, then we can go wherever we're headed next from there. It's better than nothing."

"Fine. Have it your way." Hawke relented, still looking like Duncan like she'd like to toss him into the bog. "We'll keep going as we have. Fighting darkspawn every hour. We'll go to your village."

. . . . .

She hated this plan. Maybe it was the foul weather, maybe it was the unending darkspawn, maybe it was constantly using up all her magic on healing so she was perpetually without energy, but Reveka was on her very last nerve.

What Daveth described as a simple day's walk to his home village turned into a two day grueling march.

If only she'd just put her foot down and made them leave the Grey Warden behind—they'd probably be home already. Taking Duncan with them had slowed them down immeasurably, and that wasn't time they'd ever get back. At this rate, they'd be lucky to arrive at Lothering when the darkspawn did.

Many times over those miserable days she'd considered just leaving Daveth with his commander. Taking Carver and Shart and just slipping off while the rogue slept. She wondered at herself and why she bothered to stay—probably the horrible little nagging thing in the back of her mind that must have been what people called a conscience.

She'd done all she could for Duncan at this point, as far as repairing his body. His wounds were healed as far as her abilities allowed, though she still worried about that leg of his. Regardless, he should be waking any day now.

And just as well, because their backs were starting to ache from trading the two unconscious men between the three of them in shifts carrying them. It was not doing any favors for their backs.

Cailan was holding on, but she knew he needed more care than what she could accomplish alone. Especially when her energy was split between healing and fighting darkspawn. She was a decent healer, but Bethany easily outclassed her.

At the end of the second day the trees finally started to clear. And at the end of the second day, the air started to smell of smoke and blood.

"Well that can't be good," Reveka said, watching Shart sniff the air with his ears pinned back.

They broke away from the treeline and crested the hill to see Daveth's hometown down the slope before them. The village was small, no proper roads leading to or from and just a collection of no more than a dozen small buildings.

But all of those buildings were burned to the ground. Piles of rubble and ash still smoldering after the rains. The darkspawn had raided this place already.

"Oh." Daveth said softly, eyes wide as he stared at the scene before him. "This is… not what I thought…"

"Come on," Reveka said, tapping his shoulders and taking long strides towards the village. "We should check for survivors."

They were met with haunting silence as they walked from one hollow shell of a building to the next. How long ago this had happened she couldn't tell for sure—probably the last day or two, with the darkspawn having spread out after successful breaking past Ostagar's bottleneck.

The signs of carnage were obvious. Animals slaughtered in their pens, human bodies left out to rot. Perhaps the worse were the streaks on the ground, indicators of where bodies both alive and dead had been dragged away from their homes.

This devastation was what was coming for Lothering. For all of Ferelden.

In that moment Reveka knew only one thing for absolute certainty—she had to get her family as far away from this as possible.

"Ma… Pa… is anyone… there?" Daveth's voice was soft as he stood in the broken doorway of a building that must have been his childhood home. His face was expressionless, and all at once Reveka found herself at a loss of anything to say, even anything quippy—and she always add something quippy to say.

"I'm… I'm sure they made it away…" Carver offered weakly.

Daveth stayed stone still. Reveka looked past him and saw the corpse of a man skewered to the half-collapsed wall. Though he was a day dead it was easy to see the resemblance—dark hair and a wiry frame. There was a woman dead on the ground next to him, head cleaved clean off her shoulders.

His family hadn't gotten away.

Daveth's shoulders slumped, gaze fixed at the ground… and he started laughing. It started low, a rolling chuckle that built into something both angry and relieved.

"Daveth, what is wrong with you?" She wondered aloud, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Nothing, only this might be the best day of my life," He said, a bitter smile on his face. "At least the darkspawn are good for something."

"What are you talking about? What happened here is horrible." Carver said with a frown.

"Better this wretched place be forgotten," Daveth said, wiping away the tears from his eyes the laughter had brought forth. "That's one good thing the darkspawn have done—wiped one ugly memory from the face of the world. I hope it stays dead and gone."

"So… what you're saying is you won't be upset if I search for valuables, right?" Hawke offered, glancing around.

"Sure, help yourself. Not like these miserable bastards will be needing em, anymore," he said, spitting towards the dead body of his father before turning away. He adjusted his bow with new steel in his eyes. "Let's go. You said you were from Lothering, right? We can be there in three days."

. . . . .

9:30 Dragon, 16th of Harvestmere

She let the regenerative power of her magic seep into the earth, strengthening the roots of the crop and pressing back against the strange sickness of the soil. But where it had always given way before, the strange corruption lingered, a persistent pestilence that her power could not drive away.

Bethany had heard it said that the darkspawn plague destroyed the very earth. This is probably how it began. The darkspawn, the Blight, destroying everything… she didn't think she had what it took to stop something as massive as that.

She took the path towards town—she'd make a quick stop, see if there were any last minute items any lingering merchants had for sale that could be helpful to them. She doubted it, but it didn't hurt to check.

There were easily more refugees in Lothering now than there were villagers. Many of the villagers had begun to join up with them, actually, getting wagons of their possessions together and joining the procession of the slowly dismantling tent-city on the move.

She heard the murmur to one another news and plans as she passed by… about where they'd come from, and where they were planning to go. Some were deciding to try their luck at Redcliffe, others were planning journeys further afield to places like Crestwood, Gwaren, and even Denerim.

Bethany hadn't even thought about where they'd run, if it came down to it. She didn't know much about the world beyond Lothering.

There were no merchants left with anything Bethany needed, at least not in her price range. In desperate times essentials were beginning to cost an arm and a leg to acquire. So instead of try to haggle the stubborn merchants down, she turned herself to the Chantry.

"Is Sister Leliana still here?" Bethany asked the lay Sister who was busy with the task of extinguishing all of the candles in the interior.

The Sister shook her head, not even looking up from her task. "She left several days ago. To 'follow the Maker's calling,' if you can believe that," she huffed.

"Oh," Bethany said softly. She'd rather liked Sister Leliana… she'd always had the most wonderful stories. She could be glad at least that she'd left Lothering. She hoped she was safe, wherever she'd gone.

"If you have any prayers to offer, I suggest you do so quickly and then be on your way. There are not many of the Chantry's staff left to hear your troubles," the Sister said before disappearing down the hall.

It was far emptier inside than Bethany had ever seen it—not that she risked making many regular visits to the Chantry, though. But still… there were no templars here. And there were almost always templars here. Their absence did not set her any more at ease.

She found the true purpose for her visit in the small graveyard behind the Chantry.

A pair of headstones, neither older than a few years. She'd have found the irony in having two apostates buried in the Chantry yard of one of them had not been put there because of templars. She didn't visit her father and brother as often as perhaps she ought to… but she came today because she wondered if she'd ever have the chance again.

She didn't want to regret not coming to speak with them one last time.

"Hey Declan," Bethany said, "Don't know if you've heard, but things are pretty bad out there. You'd know what to do—you always did."

She looked both ways behind her shoulder to make sure she was alone, then plucked a few plants from the nearby earth and fed them a small stream of creation magic until they bloomed small yellow flowers.

"I've been practicing just like you taught me, Father. Our crops are still strong even though the land's been getting sick… but it doesn't look like we'll get to harvest this year. Or ever again, maybe," Bethany sighed, dropping the yellow flowers on Fathers headstone.

She could imagine what they'd say to her, the comforting and kind words they'd speak. Declan and Father had both always been like that, peacekeepers and voices of reason in a family full of firecrackers. She knew they could use their level-headed presences now, in these trying times.

"You know, I've tried to share what you both taught me with Reveka… but she doesn't seem to take to it very well. I'm not sure if it's because she's a poor student or I'm just a bad teacher," she laughed softly, rising to her feet. "I just hope she makes it back soon. Look after us from… from wherever you both are. Alright?"

Lothering was even more alive with activity as she walked back through it on her way home. It was the subtle buzz of panic, the lingering realization falling on all of them that time was limited.

Her suspicion that the templars had abandoned the town was proving true—they weren't just gone from the Chantry. There wasn't a single symbol of the holy flaming sword in sight, just a few lingering Chantry Sisters who hadn't been able to bring themselves to abandon the refugees.

Bethany looked beyond the Imperial Highway and into the southward sky—she couldn't tell if it was dark storm clouds or smoke approaching in the distance… but surely neither was a good sign.

They couldn't wait any more, she realized with a sinking heart. They needed to leave now, before the darkspawn were upon them. If they waited anymore, she and Mother would be…

Bethany opened the door to the farmhouse and froze.

"—brought the King here?!" Mother shouted in hysterics. "What in the Maker's name happened out there?"

Bethany blinked, taking in the scene. Two unfamiliar men with dark hair sat at their kitchen table, one much older than the other and looking severely dazed and out of sorts. Mother overed hover the setty, fussing over a badly wounded man resting upon it… who was apparently the king. Reveka and Carver were at her sides, both speaking quickly and trying to explain the situation to her.

"You… you're home?" Bethany said softly, trying to convince herself this wasn't a dream.

Reveka and Carver looked up suddenly, everyone in the room now realizing she was standing in the doorway. Sooner than she could say anything, her twin and her sister had crossed over to her, pulling her into an enormous three person hug. Everything else, the questions, the chaos, the lingering doom, for one moment it all faded away as she held her siblings.

"Missed you too, Bep," Reveka said, tossing her hair. "Didn't get into too much trouble while we were gone, did you?"

Bethany took a sharp breath and let the relieved tears building in her eyes roll down her cheeks.

They were real. They were back. They were home.

She wouldn't lose any more of her family.