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[the_gmole]

Hi guys its my first shot at this so go easy on me! It might take a while to get into but bear with me:) i've got more where it came from so let me no if u wanna see more. Any feedback is appreciated
 
Part 1: Changes



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“Immortality. Would you want it if you could have it my love?”
 “I don’t honestly know. I’ve thought about it a lot recently. The taint gives you some perspective on the shortness of life”
 “But if you could have it would you take it?”

“Morrigan?” He unhooked his arm from her slim body and pushed himself back onto his elbows, his piercing blue eyes fixed on her. The flickering light from the fire in the hut cast shadows across her beautiful face, showing off her angular, delicate features to great effect. Her raven hair had fallen across her face, and she pushed it behind her ear as she sat up opposite him in the bed.

 “Why are you asking me this?” he asked. “You know this talk bodes badly for my mood. Now even more
so with Halora”
 “I know my love but you have never given me an answer and frankly it gets under my skin” She pulled the blanket up around her naked shoulders, watching the man opposite her. She shivered slightly as she took him in, her yellow green eyes pouring over his hard chiseled body, his lean face, looking into his terrifying blue eyes. The eyes that  still made her heart skip a beat…and she knew that it wasn’t all the butterfly skip. This was possibly one of the most dangerous men she had met in her life. “Actually, the most dangerous” she thought to herself.

 “One of many things I’d wager” he said, a wry smile flickering across his handsome features. The first she’d seen on his face in a long time.

 “If your going to be like that I’d rather you slept outside” she said crossly. “I don’t care for your sarcasm and you know it! I had enough to last me several lifetimes from that half wit Alistair!”
  “I am sorry my love” he said, kissing her shoulder as he rose from the bed. She watched as he crossed the small hut to the fire, taking in his every movement. He knelt beside a small wooden bed, watching the small prone figure in it breathe the slow dream breath. He reached down and gently touched the little girl’s cheek, his finger hesitating, his heart quickening. He suddenly spun back towards the bed. “Come with me Morrigan? We can return to Vigil’s Keep. You’d be safe, Halora could be safe. The Templars wouldn’t dare seek you out there”

 Morrigan felt her stomach tighten into a knot, and she had to try very hard to keep her voice steady when she next spoke. “I cannot and you know it. We have been over this before and you have already broken your word to me.” She tried to sound angry, but she didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel it.
 “Do you really hold this against me? I had to find you and you wanted to see me again, do not deny
it! Your mood ring does work both ways”
 Morrigan turned her head away. Maker, but she loved this man. But she knew what had to be done, as painful as it was.
 “No…”
 He turned and left the hut. The huge still form of the Mabari hound at the foot of Halora’s bed cocked his ear and stretched then lazily followed it’s master outside, giving Morrigan a small growl as it left.
She singed it’s rump with a small flame, and he yelped and ran out the door.

 Morrigan stood up from the bed, blanket wrapped around her, and walked over to Halora’s bed. The little girl slept peacefully, not waking at the sound of her two parents arguing. “What dreams do you have little one?” thought Morrigan as she put the black kettle pot over the fire and then moved to the window. The moon was full, and the air dry. The Kocari Wilds were silent, except for the sounds of night birds and the occasional kregar’s hissing.

 The man was sat on the water barrel, at the end of the vegetable patch, legs drawn up, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. The hound loped over to him and sat down heavily next to him, it’s tongue finding his thigh. He chuckled for a brief second, before patting the beast’s head and sighing quietly.  In the moonlight, she could see his muscled shoulders sag, and then shudder slightly. The sound of his single suppressed sob reached her ears, and she spun away, tears in her eyes. After everything he had been through, she hated herself for putting him through this aswell. He had nearly lost his only remaining relative recently, his brother. A Warden had intervened in time, but the whole thing had been the final straw into pushing him to find her and the child. He needed a family, one to take the place of the one he had all but lost.

 “No not to replace the one he lost. One to give him purpose.”
 Morrigan spun around, fire burning in her hands at the ready. The Architect stood behind her, watching the man and the dog. “I fear however that he will never have one as he wishes” breathed the Darkspawn.

 Morrigan wove a sound barrier around the hut’s interior. “Why have you come again creature?” she demanded, moving to stand in front of her daughter’s bed, fire ready in her hands. “We have our agreement and you have my word that I will not go back on it! Now leave! He has already sensed you” her hand came up, flame about to leap
from her fingertips.
 “I merely wished to leave a warning for the Commander of the Grey. The King is in danger. Elements are moving faster than I have expected. Razikale must be ready”
 Morrigan’s heart stopped for a second before she regained control. She struggled to remain calm. “She will be. I shall pass your message on creature, now begone!” She raised her hand about to hurl a fire ball, but the Architect disappeared without a sound.
 The door flew open and the Grey Warden stood there, naked, knife held reverse grip in his hand, ready to fight. In most other cases it would have seemed hilarious. But the sight chilled Morrigan to her bones.
 Halora began to rise, woken by the shouting of mother, and began to cry. The Warden ran to her bedside and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. She quietened and quickly fell back to sleep, a contented smile on her face. He gently placed her back in bed and covered her with her blanket. “Wrex” he said, glancing at his growling Mabari. The dog immediately got onto the little girl’s bed, ears up, sniffing the air. Halora snuggled into his hairy flank. Wrex licked her little cheek, and then looked at the Warden, growling.
 “I know boy” theWarden said, and turned to Morrigan.

 “What in the Maker’s name was that creature doing here?” he hissed, hands shaking with barely contained anger. Morrigan took a step back from his eyes. They felt like physical hammer blows. She sank to the bed under the force of his glare, and looked up at him towering above her. He needed to know. It was the reason she had turned events into forcing him to come here.
 “Davidian…my love…please sit. We have much to discuss”

  

 

King Alistair awoke from his fitful sleep with a start. Darkspawn were in the palace! Shouts were coming from the hallways outside the door. He reached under his pillow, pulling out the curved knife Davidian had given him before he had suddenly disappeared. Corin his queen stirred at his side and rolled over to put her arm around him. She hated him hiding the blade under his pillow. He pushed her off, hurriedly shaking her awake. “Corin wake up! NOW!!” he shouted, jumping out of the massive four poster bed.
 “Wha..?” She sat up slowly, rubbing her tired eyes trying to focus. “Alis-”
 An unnatural screech sounded just outside the bedchamber door followed by the horrible screams of the guards. A disfigured claw suddenly smashed through the door. Ripping a jagged line down out of it. It was followed by another and then another, before becoming a frenzied tearing at the door. Blood trails dripped from the gouges. Corin screamed, leaping from the bed to grab Alistair around the waist. “No-dammit Corin, get through the back passageway!”
 “No I can’t leave you! Its not safe” she shrieked at him. He looked at her quizzically. “I’ll be fine woman I’m a Gre-”
 “I meant me you oaf!!!” she shouted. He stumbled “Oh right…I knew that”  With that he grabbed her and pulled her to the secret corridor beside the bed. Pulling the candleholder on the wall next to it to gain access, he pushed her through. “Corin listen to me…LISTEN TO ME CORIN” he shouted, shaking her vigorously to stop her screaming. She stopped and looked at him, panting, her eyes wide and terror clear.
 “Corin, you have to get to the fourth floor anteroom. Theres a saferoom there tha-”
 The bedchamber door was ripped off it’s hinges and flung across the room. Alistair threw the screaming Corin into the passage and slammed it shut, just before the wreckage of the door hurled him from his feet. With a grunt he picked himself up, wincing at the pain in his chest, a broken rib no doubt.
 The first Shriek leapt at him, inhumanly fast, and lashed out with a viciously sharp talon. He ducked, and twisted to the side, bringing the knife down on the creature’s deformed wrist. The knife glowed an unearthly yellow and the smell of burning filled Alistair’s nostrils. The Shriek’s clawed hand fell to the ground and started to burn up. Alistair spun out of reach of a second Shriek’s swing and then stepped back in, slashing the blade across the creatures throat but it disappeared and then it was behind him. He spun, slapping aside a lightning fast stab at his face and threw an off balance swing at the creature which it easily dodged. It rolled and then launched it self at him. Alistair dropped and lunged forward, bringing up his blade, and ripping the Darkspawn’s abdominal apart. As he rose, he pivoted and whipped the knife into the eye of the third Shriek. He yanked the blade out of the freak’s eye as it’s head began to burn up. His eyes were on the Hurlock Alpha and Geneloks swarming through the door.

 “How in Andraste’s name did they get into the palace?” he thought as he parried an ungainly swing of a sword before stepping in close and slamming the knife into it’s belly. “I should have felt them before this!” He slashed open another’s neck. Just before a sword tore into his left leg. With a roar he dropped to one knee, and then rolled to avoid a disemboweling swing of the Hurlock Alpha’s huge axe. The sword was pulled from the hands of his assailent. He backhanded the knife into another Genelock’s neck, but it was ripped out of his hand as it spasmed in death. The flat of the axe connected with the back of his head and he felt the smooth marble floor meet his face. He dazedly rolled over, waiting for the death blow, feeling only the pain in his leg and a fear for Corin.

 The Alpha Hurlock’s head landed next to his, black blood drenching his face. The body fell across him, causing the sword lodged in his leg to go even deeper and making him groan in pain. His eyes were on the whirlwind of death in front of him though. Davidian, The Commander of the Grey, cut through the Darkspawn like butter, his two swords flicking out and back nearly faster than the eye could follow. He blocked a sword thrust and speared the Genelock’s throat as he side stepped a downward wing from an axe. He ducked under another and then spun like a dancer, his blades taking both of the Darkspawn heads clean off. He spun and hurled one of his swords at the back of  the retreating darkspawn, impaling one of them and nailing it to Corin’s huge wardrobe.
 “Ah she is not going to be happy” thought Alistair, “that was from Orlais”.
 He blacked out as the last of the Darspawn fell, it’s head rolling to bounce off the Alpha Hurlock’s with a sickening thud. The last thing he saw was the blood covered helmet Corruption being removed to reveal the Commander of The Grey’s face, looking over him and a call for a physician.

Modifié par the_gmole, 13 avril 2010 - 10:37 .

[the_gmole]

bump

[ShadowPlay 14]

Keep writing

[Tau22]

A timely arrival by the Warden, I say!



All in all, a very good piece of writing. The storytelling was finely-paced, you've created some questions, which will keep the reader... well, reading and I so did not expect the architect appearing!



Now, there some grammatical flaws, but all fell into the * its and it's *, * your and you're* and some missing punctuation marks. Also, you're missing commas here and there.



But, I say, continue! Intrigued, I am.

[the_gmole]

thanks guys means alot!

i've got my second part coming up now!

Indeed it was timely...mayb next time we won't be so lucky!

Just gotta go back and correct the grammatical flaws:)

Modifié par the_gmole, 14 avril 2010 - 08:12 .

[the_gmole]

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Hey guys here the second part of Chapter 1. A bit slower paced, but is the lull before the storm:)
Hope you enjoy

Chap 1: Part 2

The Architect watched the two Wardens through his shimmering eye portal. The fair haired king lay in the bed, sweat covering his youthful face, his lips moving in silent whispers. A great shiver swept through his body, causing the man next to him to look up from his silent, sad thoughts.

 “What are you thinking, Warden Commander?” mused the Architect to himself, studying the young man at the bedsides expression. Did the witch tell him all? Most likely, which meant that Utha would have to act quickly. The Wardens in Vigil’s Keep could not be trusted to remain faithful to their Order over the Warden Commander. No
they would follow this man to the Black City himself.

“Ironic really” thought the Architect, turning from the portal, and gliding to where his host sat behind a massive writing desk, impatiently twiddling his thumbs.
 “Have you considered my words, First Warden? Will you aid me in this cause I wonder?”
 The middle aged man in front of him considered him with weary eyes that had seen many things in their lifetime. He hesitated, licking his lips and then spoke with a deep commanding voice. “This immortality you offer Darkspawn? How will this come about?”
 “The details are not important First Warden. Suffice to say that it will involve a person’s soul. What you need to know is that you will have it if you do as instructed, and that one of those men will prevent it fr-”

 “Which one?” demanded the Warden, interrupting the Architect’s explanation. “The Warden Commander can be dealt with easily enough, but the King of Ferelden? That will be harder and take more time. Even with this proof of treason, the Fereldan population will not simply bow down and accept after their king and great hero have been taken.”

 The Architect moved away from the desk at which the man sat, and gazed out the window of the chamber. The Anderfels stretched out before him, Weisshaupt fortress standing in the middle of the dead land, ravaged by the old god Dumat, the first of the Arch Demons. “The liar” thought the Architect angrily, reaching out with his hand and placing it on the cold granite of the wall. He colud feel the presence here, like a beacon. How the Wardens did not feel it completely bemused him. The stone burned under his touch as his anger left him.
 “The king is already weak, having been struck down by a strange illness” the Architect said.
 “What, is that supposed to imply something? Andraste’s Blood creature! I have little patience for your kind, and if it wasn’t for your proof of treason against these men, I’d have gutted you already!” The First Warden had risen and had his hand curling around the haft of his barbed mace. His armor gleamed in the mid-morning light, constantly changing color, except for the golden eagles emblazoned on the chest. An imposing figure thought the Architect, and one he may have had reason to fear in ages past. But this man was just a husk of his former self, a weak shadow nothing more.
 “The Calling is beautiful is it not?” asked the Architect, not turning from the window.
 The First Warden staggered as if he had been hit. He reached out for his chair, strength failing him. Still the Architect did not turn from the view. 

  “How do you know?” the Warden whispered hoarsely, raising a shaking hand to his forehead, from
which sweat was now appearing. “No, never mind that…how much time do I have?”
 “Enough if you act now. Do you know what it’s like to Change? For a Warden to Change? Do yo-”
 “ENOUGH!” shouted the Warden. Slamming his gauntleted fist down onto the writing desk. The ink pot next to his quill upturned and ruined the sheath of documents next to it, but he took no notice.

 “I will have them both removed! And the witch as well, she may cause trouble if she discovers our true intentions.” The First Warden said this and then poured a glass of Orlesian brandy from an exquisitely carved glass pitcher on his desk, and then hurled it down his throat before promptly refilling it.

The Architect remained at the huge, arched window. “Beware killing Morrigan before the Warden Commander, I think that would cause you unwanted problems” he remarked, genuine in his warning.
 “Yes, yes fine” replied the First Warden absently, already focusing on the arrangements that would have to be made.
 “Arrogant fool” thought the Architect as he studied the rolling hills and land that used to thrive with life. The land that used to belong to the great Tevinter Imperium, before it was lost to the Darkspawn. Before they first stepped into the Golden City. Before they were tricked!

 “What are you doing?” asked the Warden pointedly. The Architect, looked around at him, and then removed his hand from the slag that used to be a granite block.
 “I will return in four days. I expect the proper arrangements will have been made by then?” he said, already knowing that they would be. This man may be stupid, but he was meticulous in his planning and execution of strategies.
 “They will b-” The Architect disappeared, silencing the Warden. A chill descended in the chamber, and the First Warden shivered involuntarily. He continued writing, and two hours later called the guard outside his door to take the dispatches to the waiting riders. He then spent the rest of the day trying to ignore the soft, gentle singing in the back of his head.

 

 

The door of the bedchamber had been replaced first thing in the morning, with the castle all a bustle with the news of the attack the night before. The First Butler had insisted that the doorway be redone as the king would need his security. In reality, it was to prevent anyone from seeing the condition that their king was in.

 “He is suffering from infection the likes of which I have never seen before my lord” said the court physician to the tall Warden Commander, Davidian. “I have come to the stage where I can do no more but pray to Andraste and the Maker for his well being”

 Davidian merely nodded, knowing that such notions would not help Alistair. Not after what Morrigan had told him. No, he would seek out Wynne when he left Denerim, she might be able to help Alistair. Damn Morrigan but she had gotten mixed up in her mother’s plans and now she had Halora as a piece as well! Alistair needed to get better, not just for the sake of the kingdom, but for him, Davidian…for Halora. The thought of his daughter instantly brought a pain to his chest and a heaviness to his breathing.  She was only four and yet she could speak better than many children of twice her age.
 “It is because she has the soul of a God my love” Morrigan had said as they lay entangled in bed. Her finger was tracing circles on his chest, and running along his scars.
“So many scars” she thought. She could feel his body tense when she said her god remark and wrapped her arm over him kissing the side of his chest to calm him down.

 “She will eventually leave us Davidian” she said quietly. In the silence that followed she could hear the gentle breathing of their daughter, alternate breaths with Wrex who lay with his massive forelegs around her.
 “She will be replaced by Razikale and her soul will travel to the Fade where she will be
guarded until her return.”

Davidian waited, the obvious question hanging in the air. The wind caused a back draft in the fire, and a gust of smoke puffed into the hut’s room. Halora coughed slightly and then resumed her gentle sleep.
 “She will return my sweet, trust me”

The Warden took his eyes off the strange glyphs painted on the ceiling and rolled his head to the side and focused on his lover. Halora had the same strange, beautiful eyes. “I do trust you my love, but if Razikale
does not want to leave this world when his time is up, what will you do then? Because I’ll not stand by and let a god take my child’s life away. I’ll follow her to the Fade and bring her back, and nothing will stop me, I swear it to
you”

 A tear rolled glistened in Morrigans eye as she smiled, and she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, snuggling in closer under his arm. He meant every word that he said, she knew that. He had done the same for her. For some reason she felt softer around him, like she could forget this life that had been picked for her, and just be the normal girl she once dreamt of being all those years ago when she had stolen that noble woman’s mirror. No! Such thoughts were stupid, this was what she was, and she must do as planned. Even her beloved Warden could not change this.

 The next day, Davidian had spent the whole day with Halora while Morrigan went about her business in the Wilds. He had gotten to know his child, something he had previously not dared to hope would happen. She loved Wrex, and constantly wanted to ride his back like a horse. Wrex didn’t mind either, until Morrigan came back and demanded her child be taken off that “flea-ridden beast”. Davidian did see Morrigan slip him a cut of venison after dinner though, much to Wrex’s satisfaction.
 Halora was more like Morrigan than he had expected personality wise, and had some of the same tendencies as her, even at her age. She always wound her fingers together when thinking about hard questions, and had an insatiable love for jewellery, something Morrigan actually allowed, to his surprise.

 “I’m not Flemeth” Morrigan had answered snappishly when he asked about Halora having baubles, and he looked no more into it, but a warmth grew in him. He had asked Morrigan what she planned to do with Halora, before Razikale came to claim his new body, but she just told him not to worry and that Halora would be safe.  

 He had watched as his daughter had juggled balls of blue air in her hands to impress ‘father’, and then left the hut while Morrigan gave her their daily lessons.
 That night he had put her to bad, and she had kissed his cheek, touching the thin scar there. “Good night father” she had said as Wrex climbed onto the bed.

 Later that night Morrigan had asked him would he take immortality if he could have it. He had said he didn’t know, but the truth was that he would if it meant that he could live with this new family like a normal man.

 

 

 Sitting next to the unconscious Alistair, Davidian was brought out of his memories by the entrance of Queen Corin. Her two escorts took position outside the door. Davidian rose swiftly and started to bow but was interrupted by a dismissive wave of her hand.
 “Warden Commander none of that. You know myself and I know you, and after your performance last night, it is I who should be bowing in thanks to you. You saved my husband’s life even though he seems intent on throwing it away” she said with a sad smile. She moved to the bedside and looked at her husband’s fever ridden state.

 “Master Coler the physician says that it is a fever induced by some sort of poison…” she trailed off, her hand reaching out to touch Alistair’s trembling fingers. She inhaled sharply, trying to suppress a shiver. 
 “Is he telling me the truth Davidian?” she said, eyes fixed on Alistairs ashen face.

 “He believes the sword used to wound Alistair was coated with a form of poison…”
 She stayed watching Alistairs face. “But there is something not right, am I correct?” she asked.Davidian looked at her carefully. The truth would perhaps frighten her too much, and this was a young woman on the verge of a breakdown to begin with. But at the same time, she had to be prepared for the worst, which the Warden knew was to come.

 “Corin the Darkspawn that stabbed Alistair-” Corin visibly shuddered. Davidian continued, “The Darkspawn that stabbed Alistair was just normal footsoldier, a Genelok. That is what is strange about this fever.” Corin’s face was blank. “My point is that this ordinary footsoldier should not have had such poison on his blades, it doesn’t happen. This attack was aimed solely at Alistair, an assassination attempt if you will.”
 Corin’s face suddenly showed the signs of realization, of the overall picture. “Corin this will happen again, and you need to be safe. I should take you to Vigil’s Keep right away, until I have figured out what is happening. It is one of the safest places you could be right now.”

 Corin stood looking up at him, fear plain in her features. Her long brown hair was done up in an ornate bun with moonstones hanging from a fine gold chain, the blue stones matching her eyes. “Eyes that right now, are those of a terrified young woman” thought Davidian. Corin was only twenty years old, marrying Alistair a year ago after a three year involvement with the young king, and was several years his junior. She had no family, her parents both dying in the recent Blight. Davidian had watched them grow together from his position at Alistair’s court, and had saved the young lady from an assassination attempt last year, although she did not know if it.

 “You will protect him?” she asked, her voice trembling. “He is my only family and I’ll be lost without him”
 “I know how you feel”, thought Davidian sadly. “I will die before I would let him be harmed further Corin”.

 She nodded and stepped in to kiss his cheek. Then she drew herself up, inhaling strongly and regained her regal manner. “As soon as he is fit to travel we will leave for Vigil’s Keep” she said, “and he will have no choice in the matter”.
She turned to leave. On her way out she turned back to the Commander of the Grey, studying him. His eyes seemed to be on fire. That was the first thing she had learned around him, do not be afraid of thoses eyes, as most people were. Be afraid of the being behind them. “Things have changed have they not Davidian Cousland?”

Davidian looked up from Alistair. “Aye my lady, they have” he said, bowing to her. As she turned, she noticed the destroyed wardrobe. She let out a sigh and looked at Alistair. “I loved that wardrobe you know. He hates it…it was from Orlais” With a tiny querk of her lip, the queen of Fereldan gave him a nod, and then motioned to her escort and left.   

 

 Donet Provan rode south hard, pushing his chestnut mare to her limits. He couldn’t see the road clearly in the dusk but he did not relent. Most likely his animal would have to be changed at his next stop, but he must continue. His orders were clear and he would obey them to the letter. He knew that at that very moment there were another fifteen horseman making their way to Ferelden from the Anderfels as he was. He had left Weisshaupt that afternoon when he had received his most dire instructions from the First Warden. Only once before had a Warden sided with their enemies, and since Bregan he knew of none other. Now two had betrayed them, at the same time!
 Donet Proven had heard of the abilities of the Warden Commander of Ferelden, and he sorely wished to test them himself. The king would be left to Reynald in Denerim most likely. Donet didn’t envy the King, Reynald was a sadistic killer. After Reynald had dealt with the king he would hunt down the witch in the Kocari Wilds, and Donet would join him after he had dealt withthe traitor Warden.

 “Times have changed” he thought to himself, and pushed his horse on into the dead night. 

Modifié par the_gmole, 14 avril 2010 - 11:12 .

[Tau22]

The plot thickens, I see!

Though, the Architect is kind of a arse, heheheh.

[ShadowPlay 14]

Keep em coming

[the_gmole]

Tau22 wrote...


Though, the Architect is kind of a arse, heheheh.

Ya I know, I was going to put him as a sort of anti hero kind of character but i realised that it would be so much better if he was a mystery with a hidden agenda of some sort. he does come across like an arse though

[Maria13]

Dear Gmole



Very nice. The source material, the main characters lend themselves to so many different permutations, don't they? And let's not even start on the unlimited potential of hidden agendas...

[the_gmole]

Maria13 yes I'm actually still at a lose to find a conclusion to the tale because I still have so many possible endings to use! I'll try and get the best one though:)



Alot more plot twists coming up for sure though

[the_gmole]

Hey guys. sorry its taekn me so long to post again, I've got exams coming up at college so I'm pretty busy:(

Anyways heres chap 2 part one...hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: Part 1

Dora Highsfeld had never been a stand out person. At five foot nothing she was of average height for an elf. She possessed hair that was neither lustrous nor thin, and her face was never one that men would call beautiful. She was not exceptionally smart or talented, and did not have many friends, preferring her own company, and the odd book that she could find, mainly fantasy ones with knights and dragons in them. She despised stories of witches and mages and magic. They were evil in her eyes.

She did work as a servant to Arl Feargus Cousland though, which she decided was a point up. The Arl treated the elvish folk in his keep fairly and was never heard to un-necessarily punish anyone. Which, considering his tormented past, was a miracle Dora thought. She had never met the rest of the Arl’s family, she arrived to Highever Castle after the civil war and Blight. She had heard of the deaths of the Cousland’s though, especially the Arl’s wife and young son. She had over heard the guards at the barracks one day talking about a brother she thought, but could not be certain. But one thing she was certain of was that today,her life was about to change forever.

It had happened a week ago, not a full day after the Arl had left for Amaranthine. Dora had wished to go with him for her family worked the farms outside Amaranthine’s walls, but she had not been able to gain favor. Instead she was stuck in Highever, on polishing rota in the Great Hall. Not that she didn’t like polishing, it gave her time to think about things. No it was more that the Arls in the summons seat was huge and so intricately carved, that dhe was bound to miss a spot and be punished by the First Maid, grumpy, fat Mistress Bonhame.

While she had been tending to the back of the chair, she had noticed that one of the beautiful wooden leaves had been broken and angled the wrong way it seemed. She reached down to try and fix it, for she knew that Mistress Bonhame would check her work when she was done. Dora didn’t want any more blame than was due.

The leaf twisted clockwise in her hand and there was a click. She let go instantly and looked around to make sure no one had heard. But the Great Hall was empty. Curiosity got the better of her and she took hold of the leaf once more and twisted it the rest of the way round. Nothing happened.

Dora heart started to slow to normal speeds again. She had not known what to expect, but at least in her imagination something had happened! She sniffed in disgust and turned away from the chair, only to be met by an entranceway in the wall, right next to the great fireplace behind the chair. She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus, not believing what she was seeing.

Once again, curiosity got the better of the young elf and she crept into the entrance, making sure that no one was watching her. As she disappeared into the darkness, the door shut behind her. With a frightened squeak she tried to open it again but it refused to budge. She hated the dark! There were spiders and insects…and Darkspawn! Doras over active imagination took over and she began to shriek, until suddenly a light flickered on in front of her. It looked like a perfect sphere she thought, casting off a gentle blue glow. And it bobbed and moved further down the passage away from her! She ran to catch up, and followed it down the dark tunnel.

The walls were wet she had noticed, yet the ground under her feet was bone dry. She followed the mysterious light until she finally saw a glow at the end of the passage way. Her heart started to quicken, and her pointed ear gave an involuntary twitch. What if it was an ogre’s den? The thought nearly pulled another scream from her which she just held in. As she approached the light, her glowing orb floated on around the corner ahead of her. She tried to grab it but tripped falling awkwardly through the entrance. Heart hammering in her chest, fearful that she was discovered, she whispered a pary to the Maker, huddling herself into a ball.

“There’s no need for that my child” said a kindly voice. Dora opened one eye and peered through her fingers at the scene in front of her.

An old woman sat nestled in a chair next to a welcoming fire, knitting in her hands and pot of tea and two cups on the small table next to her. The orb floated to her side and disappeared with out a sound.

“Tea my dear?” offered the old lady, a small smile crossing her face. Dora found herself standing up and dusting off her robes, suddenly no longer afraid. There was something about the old lady’s face that warmed her inside.

“Am I allowed mistress?” she asked, dropping a curtsy as she spoke.
“Bah! None of that dear. I am neither your superior nor would I want to be” said the old woman, chuckling. “Now, for my question again. Tea?”
Dora hesitated and then moved forward to pour the tea. But the kettle suddenly lifted itself into the air and began to pour out the two cups. Startled Dora jumped back, fear once again rising in the pit of her stomach.

“Don’t be alarmed my girl” waved the woman, “I’ll not harm such an innocent thing as you. Now, sit.” Dora sat back into the chair…which had not been there two seconds ago.
“Begging your pardon my lady” she nervously asked, “But what are you?”
The old lady began chuckling again, and a cup of tea floated across the room into Dora’s shaking hands.

“Drink that my girl, you’ll relax with it inside you” said the old woman as she picked up her cup and took a sip.
Dora decided that the tea was safe and drank some herself. It was incredible! It seemed as if all her fears were washed away, all her stress just broken down and blow out the door.

“Mistress what is this tea?” she enquired in amazement.
“Now girl I told you before to not call me that, I don’t want to repeat myself and my age should tell you that I don’t have the time to. And the tea is a type of elf root, mixed with mint.” The old woman settled back in her chair.

“So tell me about yourself my dear? What is it you do here in Highever?” She listened contently as Dora told her about herself, her interests, her hopes and dreams. Dora for her part talked like she had never talked before, the words falling out of her mouth. She didn’t even stop to ask why the old lady’s eyes were yellow, nor why sometimes when she looked up, for a brief second the walls of the chamber were covered in ghostly faces, before they returned to how she remembered them, covered in old paintings and curtains.

In return for the information about Dora, the old lady told her stories about knights in armor, about great elven warriors and mages and history of all sorts. She even told her a story about the fabled Flemeth, the Witch of the Wilds and how she came to be. Dora had never realized that Flemeth had once lived here, married to Bann Conobar. She had fallen in love with a young poet and run away, but when Conobar tricked them into returning, he had the poet killed and buried in secret tunnels under the castle. Flemeth was locked away in the highest tower, until she summoned a demon and killed Conobar and everyone in Highever. Dora was amazed at this tale more so than the others and begged the old lady to retell it again.

When the time had come for Dora to leave, the old lady had given her a list of things that she needed to bring the next time, and gave her a whole gold sovereign! Dora had left with a light heart and a clear head, but was strangely tired. The next day she was about to tell Mhegain her friend about it, but funnily she forgot what she was going to say. This happened several times, but Dora didn’t think anything of it.

Now as she was on her way to see the kindly old lady for the second time, her heart was skipping beats with barely contained joy. Mistress Bonhame had switched her two hours ago because she was late for egg collecting. Dora couldn’t wait for some more of that elfroot and mint tea to take her woes away, and some more stories of knights and lands far away.

The strangest thing was that when she was asked why she was late, Dora didn’t have an answer. She genuinely did not know. She also didn’t know why she held a satchel containing all sorts of ingredients and herbs. But she knew somehow that she must deliver it to the old lady.

She pretended to polish the bookshelves in the Great Hall until it was empty, and then went to the Arl’s chair and twisted the leaf. She slipped through the hidden doorway, and it closed behind her as she went deeper into the tunnels. Oddly, there was no glowing orb to guide her, and she found her stomach tightening uneasily in the darkness. Eventually, she spied the light from the old woman’s fire ahead, and with renewed jubilation, she carried on until she reached the small chamber where the lady resided.

But this time when she entered the chamber there were no chairs and no welcoming fire. Instead there was only the floating orb, glowing a brilliant red. The old lady stood back to Dora, arms folded under her breasts. She didn’t look as kindly as she had the first time, and when Dora glanced around the room, the ghostly faces on the walls stayed there longer before disappearing.

“I brought you the ingredients my lady” said Dora, holding up the bag in her hands.
Without looking, the woman pointed to the table which had suddenly appeared at her side. “Put them there girl” she said, her voice not at all as warm and comforting as Dora had remembered it being.

Dora placed the bag carefully on the table and then moved back to her spot behind the lady. Questions were popping into her head, and they were disturbing.

“My lady why is it that I could not remember collecting all your ingredients? And when I tried to tell my friend about you, I forgot what I was going to say! And the last time when you told me the tale of Flemeth, I wanted to hear it again. That’s not right, I hate those kinds of tales” she said, the words coming tumbling out of her mouth before she could clamp her jaw shut.

The old lady said nothing but her shoulders started to shake with laughter. “Do you know where Cononbar buried Osen the poet, girl? Do you remember?” she said between hoarse chuckles.

“You said he was thrown under the castle in the secret tunnels, not even buried or clothed.” Answered Dora, suddenly feeling very uneasy. She took a small step back from the old woman, and then another.

“Ah but where are you going girl? We aren’t finished with you yet”
Dora turned to run but her foot caught on something and she feel heavily. She scrambled up, trying to find what had tripped her, and when her eyes finally fell upon the object she screamed in terror.

A half buried skull lay in the ground, along with a ribcage and some toe bones. The old woman’s words came back to her as she looked at the creature standing before her, staring into the orb.
“Osen had his throat slit and was dumped in the secret passages under the cas-”
Dora’s voice left her as the old woman turned to look at her, her face gaunt and haggard, nothing like the kindly face Dora had pictured. The orb was pulsing now with an angry red light, veins of energy running across its surface.

“That’s Osen!” screamed Dora, realization dawning on her poor elven features.
“Yes,yes it is” said the woman, her voice rasping, her breathing laboured.

“So your…” Dora fainted.
The old woman floated the young elf’s body towards the orb. It began to hum, and whips of red energy flickered out, peeling swathes of flesh off the body in front of it. Dora had regained consciousness, and began to scream in agony. Suddenly Dora was sucked into the orb, which then winked out of existence.

The old woman went to the bag and started to pick out the different ingredients, saying ancient lost words as she mixed them all in a ball in the air. She then swallowed down the concoction and whispered one final word. The air in the room suddenly sucked inwards and then boomed out up the tunnel. The woman in the room touched her young, beautiful face, ran her hands over her slim, taught body and up through her long raven hair.

“Yes girl. I am Flemeth”


Morrigan sat up suddenly, eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest. Something wasn't right. She glanced up towards the glyphs on the hut's ceiling. They were glowing an angry red, and letting of a low pitched hum. “Shes back” whispered Morrigan to herself.

She jumped up from her stool and ran to Halora’s cot. The young girl was sleeping peacefully, without a care in the world. Morrigan hurriedly shook her awake. “Halora, wake up. Now!”

Halora yawned, trying to shake off the remnants of a dream about dragons and golden cities that she knew she wouldn't remember. She never remembered these dreams. Morrigan was running from shelf to shelf in the small hut, gathering herbs, books, scrolls and stuffing them all into a satchel, while at the same time muttering the words for the spell that she had used on father. Halora wondered where they were going.

Morrigan, preparations ready, turned to the cot where she saw her daughter floating her traveling shoes through the air into her little hands. A small surge of pride went through her as she watched the child organize her clothes onto her body using the magic Morrigan herself had taught her. Raising her hand, Morrigan called her staff from the far side of the hut and it flew to her hand. She said the final words of her spell and a white light flashed into existence in front of the hut's fireplace. Images began to form in the centre of the portal, until a long valley filled with farmland and flanked by mountains and cliffs came into focus.

“Where are we going mother” asked Halora nervously, her voice trembling. Morrigan's haste had worried her, and the strange letters on the ceiling were whispering to her. Morrigan looked down, taking her hand and looking back to the portal at the fortress far away at the other end of the valley.

“We are going to father my sweet” said Morrigan, trying to make her voice sound reassuring, as she led her daughter through the portal and out onto the expanse of farmland. Halora reached out in wonder and plucked an ear of wheat from its stalk. There was no wheat in the Kocari wilds. She could fell her fear slowly fading away as soon as her mother had said that they were to see father again. Morrigan simply stared at the fortress heart pounding before she started to lead her daughter through the grain fields towards the Keep.

The setting sun cast a blood red glow upon the walls and towers of Vigil's Keep, and the birds in the trees were silent as they studied the robed woman and the child made their way towards the stronghold. Then they all flew into the air and began crowing, for they knew that a feast was not far away.

Modifié par the_gmole, 19 avril 2010 - 07:45 .