CHAPTER FIVE
The wilds
The swamp air hung heavy as the group ventured deeper into the Korcari Wilds. Each step was accompanied by the squelch of wet earth beneath their boots and the pungent scent of decay mingling with the wild, untamed fragrance of moss and stagnant water. Animal cries echoed in the distance, eerie and unfamiliar, raising the hairs on the backs of their necks.
Alex's eyes roved over the landscape, catching glimpses of the remnants of the Tevinter Empire—half-buried columns inscribed with ancient runes and shattered archways that hinted at the dark grandeur of a civilization long past. His engineering mind marveled at the craftsmanship, the symmetry, the sheer ambition of the structures that had survived centuries of neglect. His admiration was interrupted only by the ever-present sense of danger that crackled through the air.
The recruits moved in silence, each step deliberate. Daveth's eyes darted around nervously, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his dagger. Ser Jory's face was set in a grim expression, the confident demeanor of a knight wavering under the suffocating pressure of the unknown. Solona kept close to Elissa, their shared glances revealing an unspoken bond of wary determination.
Yet it was Lynna Mahariel who moved with the grace of a shadow. Despite the pallor of her skin and the beads of sweat that hinted at the darkspawn taint coursing through her, she glided ahead of the group, bow drawn, eyes sharp and probing. The Wilds were her territory—alien to the others, but a challenge she embraced.
Suddenly, Alex's keen gaze picked out a form slumped against the base of a crumbling pillar. It was a soldier, blood seeping from a gash in his side, eyes unfocused but fluttering open as the group approached. Alistair knelt immediately, ready to offer aid, but Alex moved faster. Without hesitation, he pressed a steadying hand to the man's chest, channeling a subtle wave of energy. Warmth surged beneath his palm, and the soldier's breathing grew less ragged.
"Maker's breath," Daveth muttered, stumbling back a step as his eyes widened. "He's a mage!"
Ser Jory's brow furrowed as he stepped back warily. "A mage with a sword?" he questioned, half-impressed, half-suspicious.
Alex, suppressing a sigh of weariness, looked up and met their eyes. "Yes, I'm both," he said, a hint of exasperation slipping into his voice. The surprise was getting old, but there was no time to explain further.
The soldier coughed, weak but stable enough to speak. "Darkspawn," he rasped, eyes flicking wildly from Alistair to the others. "They came out of nowhere—an ambush. My unit… gone." The man's gaze settled on Alistair. "Beware. They're close."
With a nod of gratitude, Alistair watched the soldier stumble away, each step a testament to sheer willpower. The group exchanged uneasy glances as Ser Jory's voice broke the tense silence.
"This is madness, he was part of an entire unit and they were all killed," he muttered, fingers gripping his sword hilt. "We should turn back."
Lynna's head snapped around, eyes narrowing as she fixed Jory with a fierce stare. Her accent, tinged with an unfamiliar lilt, cut through the air. "Cowardice has no place here," she said, voice both calm and sharp as an arrow.
Ser Jory flushed, the rebuke striking him to the core. He straightened, sputtering denials that only highlighted his insecurity. Alistair clapped a hand on his shoulder, the reassuring gesture tempered by an unyielding gaze.
"We're safe, Ser Jory," Alistair said firmly, casting his senses outward. "We grew wardens can sense them—darkspawn are near, but not close enough to surprise us. Trust in that."
The knight's breathing steadied, and the tension in the group eased slightly. With their resolve bolstered, they pressed on, stepping further into the dense, unforgiving heart of the Wilds, where shadows whispered and danger lay in wait.
The Korcari Wilds seemed to grow darker as the group pushed deeper into the swamp. The gnarled roots of ancient trees twisted around their path, and a low mist clung to the ground, swirling around their boots with each cautious step. The air was thick with decay and the coppery tang of blood, and the silence was punctuated only by the distant calls of unseen creatures.
Bodies of fallen soldiers lay scattered, their faces locked in expressions of horror. Some corpses bore jagged wounds, torn open by savage claws, while others were mutilated by deep cuts, their armor dented and broken. The sight turned Daveth pale, and he began muttering, "Maker preserve us," over and over. Alex stifled the urge to laugh—he doubted the thief had ever prayed in earnest before.
Suddenly, Alistair tensed, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the trees. "Darkspawn ahead," he said in a low voice. "They haven't spotted us yet."
Elissa, ever the strategist, stepped up. "What's the plan?"
Alistair's mouth twitched with a hint of humor. "uh, we attack," he said with a shrug.
Alex's eyes hardened. This was no time for levity. Without missing a beat, he began issuing orders. "Ser Jory, Alistair, you're with me at the front. We'll take the brunt of their assault. Daveth, Elissa, cover the flanks. Lynna, Solona, hold back and reinforce us with arrows and spells."
There was a moment of silence as the recruits processed his words, then each one nodded and moved into position. Alistair's expression turned serious, and a flicker of respect passed between him and Alex.
The darkspawn came into view as the group crept forward. They were hunched, hideous creatures, their eyes glinting with malice. Their armor was a chaotic patchwork of filth and stolen pieces, each one more grotesque than the last. The stench hit Alex first—a sickening mix of rot and sweat.
"On my mark," Alex called, raising his sword. "Charge!"
The recruits charged as a unit: Ser Jory wielded his massive two-handed sword with practiced strength, Alistair's Warden sword and Templar shield formed a steadfast barrier, and Alex surged forward with his red steel sword gleaming under the waning light, infused with threads of arcane energy. Solona and Lynna, stationed at the back, had their eyes locked onto the fray—Solona's staff crackling with untapped energy and Lynna's bow taut with an arrow ready to fly. Daveth and Elissa moved with precision on the flanks, eyes sharp for any signs of surprise ambushes, each step carrying a pulse of tension through the ground.
The darkspawn were grotesque—gnarled bodies covered in mismatched, dirt-caked armor, their eyes glowing with a primal, malevolent hunger. They roared and charged with an inhuman fury, emboldened by the scent of blood on the wind. Two men—former scouts from the King's army—hung lifeless from a branch, their bodies a grisly banner of what awaited the careless.
"Maker's breath," Ser Jory whispered, voice faltering as his eyes darted from one twisted creature to the next.
Alistair quirked a brow and, with an irreverent grin, muttered, "Charming table manners, as always." The attempt at humor, however misplaced, broke through some of the terror gripping the group.
Alex stepped forward, voice strong and commanding. "Steady yourselves. We strike as one." He cast a brief, grateful thought toward Fergus, whose battlefield lessons had sharpened his instincts.
At Alex's nod, they launched their attack. Ser Jory swung his heavy sword in wide, devastating arcs, the blade carving through darkspawn flesh with bone-rattling power. Alistair absorbed blows with the hard clang of steel meeting steel, countering with precise thrusts that pierced through crude armor. Alex's own combat style was a blend of grace and deadly force—his sword wove through the air in intricate, almost hypnotic patterns as he engaged three darkspawn at once. His footwork kept him one step ahead of every strike, a dance of lethal fluidity.
"Solona, fire to the right!" Alex shouted between parries. She raised her staff and launched a bolt of flame that exploded into a cluster of shrieking darkspawn, sending a wave of heat that rippled through the swamp.
Lynna's arrows whistled past Alex's shoulder, each one finding its mark with an unnerving accuracy. A Hurlock lunged, blade arcing towards Alex's neck. He summoned a shimmering ward shield just in time to deflect the blow, the impact reverberating through his arm. Without hesitation, he slashed upward, cleaving the Hurlock's head from its shoulders. Another creature, eyes locked in feral focus, rushed forward only to be met by a crackling surge of lightning that burst from Alex's fingers. The darkspawn convulsed, blackened by the magic, before crumpling into the blood-slick earth.
The battle was brutal, each second a symphony of roars, grunts, and the clang of weapons. But the recruits' training held. Daveth fought with surprising finesse, ducking low and gutting a charging Genlock. Elissa's sword and shield flashed as she darted between foes, precise and lethal. Lynna and Solona's ranged attacks kept the tide of darkspawn in check, thinning their numbers before they could swarm the frontline.
When the last darkspawn fell, its death rattle echoing through the trees, the group stood breathless but victorious. Alex wiped the sweat and grime from his brow, heart still pounding with the thrill of combat.
"Is everyone alright?" Alistair's voice was steady, a touch of pride breaking through.
"More or less," Daveth muttered, shaking his head with a disbelieving grin. Ser Jory exhaled a long, unsteady breath, his hands trembling but his resolve unbroken. Lynna lowered her bow, eyes flicking around, searching for any signs of movement.
"Good," Alex said, eyes scanning the horizon. "This was just the beginning."
The battle had been fierce, but the recruits had proven their mettle. The swamp was littered with the bodies of darkspawn, their grotesque forms crumpled and lifeless amid the thick, murky waters. Alex took a moment to catch his breath, the metallic tang of blood and the rancid stench of the darkspawn thick in the air. He wiped his brow, feeling the weight of fatigue, but the satisfaction of victory eased his exhaustion.
"Good work, everyone," Alex said, his voice steady and commanding. "You all kept your cool and fought like seasoned warriors."
Alistair clapped Ser Jory on the shoulder, giving him a nod of approval. "Now, as unpleasant as it sounds, it's time to collect the darkspawn blood. We need it for the Joining ritual." The recruits exchanged uneasy glances, but they knew what had to be done. With resigned determination, they set about gathering the vials of blood from their fallen foes.
Alex made his way over to Lynna, who stood slightly apart, her bow still in hand. Her eyes were sharp, scanning the edges of the swamp for any signs of lingering danger.
"You okay?" Alex asked, his tone warm but professional.
Lynna looked at him, a rare hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I'm fine," she said, her voice carrying an edge but lacking its usual harshness. "You fight well… for a human."
Alex chuckled, knowing that was about as close to a compliment as he would get from the Dalish elf. Before he could respond, Solona approached, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
"you know, I need someone to check on me too," Solona said with a teasing smile, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Alex smirked, shaking his head. "You seemed to handle yourself just fine," he replied. Elissa, standing nearby, rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, causing Alistair to chuckle quietly.
With the blood collected and spirits cautiously lifted, the group pressed on. The deeper they ventured into the wilds, the more foreboding the landscape became. Gnarled trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches clawing at the sky, and the distant cries of creatures unseen sent shivers down their spines.
Alistair halted suddenly; his expression serious. "There's more darkspawn ahead," he announced, eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom. Alex strained his eyes but saw nothing.
"It could be an ambush," Alex said, voice low but clear. "Tight formation. Elissa, Alistair, take the flanks. Ser Jory, Daveth, you're on the rear. Solona, Lynna, stay in the center and be ready."
The recruits moved as a cohesive unit, their training and newfound camaraderie binding them together. four Genlocks lunged from the shadows, their grotesque forms snarling as they struck, but they were met with the solid defense of Elissa's shield and Alistair's swift counterattack. The creatures fell quickly, their threat neutralized.
Alex's eyes locked onto a Hurlock emissary further ahead. Its eyes glowed with malevolent intent; hands raised as it began to cast.
"Solona, now!" Alex called.
Solona muttered an incantation, and a shimmering ward enveloped the group, deflecting the emissary's dark magic harmlessly away. Taking advantage of the moment, Alex surged forward, sword raised. The emissary turned to flee, but an arrow from Lynna's bow struck true, dropping it before it could escape.
As the battle wound down and quiet settled over the swamp, Alex's gaze caught on a flash of white among the foliage. He bent down, eyes narrowing as he inspected a delicate white flower with a crimson center.
"The kennel master mentioned he needed this," Daveth said, recognizing the flower.
Alex nodded, plucking the bloom carefully and tucking it into his pocket. "Let's keep moving. The outpost isn't far now."
With their spirits bolstered by the hard-fought victory, the recruits pressed onward, the ancient outpost of the Grey Wardens awaiting them in the depths of the Korcari Wilds.
As they advanced further into the swamp, the dark atmosphere seemed to thicken, and a tense silence fell over the group. Alistair, usually quick to make a light-hearted comment, suddenly froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the path ahead.
"Up ahead," he said, voice low and serious, "the biggest group so far."
Ser Jory's face paled, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as worry clouded his features. Daveth's lips moved silently, mouthing another "Maker preserve us," while his hands shook slightly. Elissa's eyes darted toward Alex, searching for a cue, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her sword. Lynna gave Alex a brief, confident nod, her sharp gaze ready for whatever came next. Solona caught Alex's eye and, with a mischievous smile, offered a subtle wink.
Alex took a deep breath, forcing the tension from his shoulders and allowing focus to wash over him. He exchanged a glance with Alistair, who, in return, gave a resolute nod and raised his shield, banging on it with his sword to signal readiness.
"Let's do this," Alistair declared, his voice cutting through the murk.
They moved into a modified V-shaped formation, Alex at the forefront, Elissa and Alistair flanking him on either side, shields poised. Solona and Lynna took their positions behind them, sheltered but ready to unleash their fury on any darkspawn that dared close the distance.
The first wave hit with ferocity, the darkspawn's guttural snarls filling the air. This group was larger, and disturbingly, more coordinated than any they'd encountered so far. The battle surged around them with chaotic energy. Alex shouted quick formation changes to adjust to the encroaching enemies, his commands blending seamlessly with the clash of blades and the roar of combat.
A Hurlock Alpha emerged from the melee, its dark eyes burning with malevolent intelligence. It towered over its kin, wielding a massive axe that gleamed with dark, slick blood. Without hesitation, Alex surged forward to meet it. The creature roared and swung with the brute force of a seasoned fighter, its strikes precise and powerful. Alex twisted and parried, every movement a calculated dance of survival. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, and Alex could feel the weight of each blow reverberate down his arms.
The Alpha pressed hard, nearly driving Alex to his knees. But he was undeterred. Alex spun low, evading a crushing swing by inches, then pivoted with a graceful flourish, his blade whirling behind his back before finding its mark. The darkspawn's head separated from its shoulders, eyes wide in shock as it fell.
With the Alpha's fall, the darkspawn's formation faltered, and the remaining creatures were quickly cut down by the group's relentless assault. Heavy breaths filled the clearing as the last darkspawn crumpled.
They pressed on through the dense, pungent air until the silhouette of the old Warden outpost loomed before them, a crumbling relic of stone and moss. Alex approached the chest in the center of the ruin, noting its rusted edges and broken lock. He flipped the lid open, only to find it empty.
Before he could voice his question, a low chuckle floated on the wind, chilling them to the bone.
"Well, well, what have we here?" said a voice, smooth and distinctly feminine. The group tensed, weapons at the ready, as a chasind woman stepped into the clearing, her yellow eyes gleaming with intrigue and a sly smile curving her lips.