In Death, Sacrifice

 “In Death, Sacrifice”

 

This is an original short story about a Grey Warden who
experiences “The Calling”, a ritual where Warden Veterans fight to their deaths
in the Deep Roads.

_Marcus awoke suddenly, and half expected to see a Dragon
ready to eat his head off. This was the ninth time this week he experienced
that same nightmare—a Dragon burning a town to ruins.

Instead, the old Warden awoke to a campfire with four
young Grey Wardens gathered around it for warmth. One of which was Lucas, Marcus’s
“foster child”. He had first found Lucas eating a rat in a back alley of the
city of Denerim. Lucas was a small child at the time, and Marcus marveled at
what he had grown into: one of the best swordsmen in Fereldon.

The other three Wardens’ names were Kadrin, the Dwarf;
Onil, the Elf; and Raven, the Mage. All of whom noticed their leader awaken
abruptly, dagger in hand. “You alright, Marcus?” inquired Lucas.

The old Warden tried to calm his breathing. “Yeah… I’m
fine. Just another nightmare.” Everyone knew what this meant, but no one wanted
to speak their minds. They all sat there quietly, awaiting what else Marcus had
to say. After a brief silence, he spoke again. “I think it’s time.”

“Marcus, you can’t leave,” objected Lucas. “Something big
is about to happen, and we need you.”

“Marcus, if you’re goin into the Deep Roads, I’m goin
with ya,” said Kadrin.

“No one is going with me. I leave in the morning.”

“Marcus…” started Onil.

“No. It’s my time, I told you that. Now get some sleep,
all of you.” And that was that.

***

Marcus awoke at dawn before most of the others. Only
Lucas was awake. “I guess I never thought about this moment,” said the boy. “I
mean, I knew it would happen, but I guess I never really wanted it to.”

“This is something all Grey Wardens must face
eventually,” replied Marcus.

“I know that, Marcus, I know. It’s just that… you’re like
a father to me, you know? I’ve never had anything as close to family as you.”

“I know, Lucas. You were like a son to me, too. You are a
son to me.”

Lucas looked away. “So what happens now that you’re
leaving us?”

“When the others awaken, you must lead them on to
Ostagar.”

“Quite a journey without you.” They were camped in the
Frostback Mountains.

“I’ll still be with you.”

“I’m gonna miss you, Marcus. We all will.”
 
“Tell your brothers not to despair; I’ll always be your
leader.”

“Goodbye, Marcus.” The two joined in a hug. It was the
kind of hug that a father and a son might share.

“Don’t forget what we stand for, Lucas.” With that,
Marcus left for Orzammar. Lucas would never see him again.

***

Marcus arrived at the gates of Orzammar at around midday.
A guard greeted him. “Atras Vala, Warden. What brings you to Orzammar?”

“The Calling.”

The dwarf didn’t quite know how to reply to that. “Oh… I
see. Right, then. Go ahead in there…” it was somewhat of an awkward welcome.

Marcus entered into the hall of heroes. He had been to the
Dwarf city before, and he remembered its splendor. Magnificent stone statues,
towering towards the high ceilings. He made his way toward the entrance to the
deep roads. At the entrance, two guards stopped him. “A Grey Warden, huh?”

“Hey,” said the other Dwarf, “Didn’t some other Grey
Wardens just leave not too long ago? That one… what was his name? Duncan?”

“Yeah,” replied the other one. “Said he was headed toward
some tower as his next stop or whatever. I think he’s off recruiting for some
army.” The guard finally acknowledged the fact that Marcus was still standing
right there. “Ehrm… yes, go on right ahead, Warden.”

“Thank you,” said Marcus as he entered the deep roads. He
needed to find the Legion of the Dead, a dwarven army that fights the darkspawn
in the deep roads.

***

After traveling for hours in the deep roads, Marcus
finally came to a large bridge overlooking some sort of valley. On the other
side of the bridge, the place was littered with darkspawn. A group of dwarves
greeted him. “Look boys, a Grey Warden wanting to join the Legion of the Dead.
I’m guessing that’s why you’re here, old one?”

“More or less,” replied Marcus.

The Dwarf extended his hand. “Name’s Barin. Figured we
should start off friendly, considering we’ll be dying together.”

The Warden shook his hand. “Marcus.”

“Well, Marcus, as you can see, this isn’t the entire
Legion. We’re all scattered around the Deep Roads, but more are supposed to
come to our position in a week or so. But we’ll be dead by then, won’t we,
boys?” The other dwarves laughed.

“I like your enthusiasm.”

“Who says death has to involve sadness?”

“So what’s the situation over there?”

“A lot of darkspawn, that’s what. First, they formed
their own government; next there was this civil war; then more darkspawn came
over on ships and overpopulated the area, and the native darkspawn had to make
new immigration laws. I think it’s election time again.”

Marcus could tell he was being sarcastic. “That many,
huh?”

“More. But, that’s not the point. So, you wanna die now,
or do you wanna wait a while longer?”

“I’m charging right now. You’re welcome to join me.”

The Dwarf laughed. “Men, positions!” The dozen Legionnaires
formed at the front of the large bridge. Barin drew his axe at the head of the
group, with Marcus at his side. “It will be an honor to die with you, Warden,”
said the Dwarf. “Men! We go now to our deaths! But we will not truly die! For
our souls will live on in the stone, and our sons will remember us for what we
did to those bastards!” The dwarves cheered. “For every dead dwarf, I want a
hundred dead darkspawn, THAT’S AN ORDER!” The men cheered again. Barin turned
to face the gathering swarm of darkspawn. “CHARGE!” the dwarves charged to the
other side of the bridge, meeting the darkspawn head on.

Marcus swung his greatsword at a Hurlock, obtaining the
first kill. Each dwarf held within him the strength of ten good warriors.
Darkspawn were falling to the ground rapidly.

For every bastard Marcus killed, three more would take
its place. They were literally being swarmed by the creatures. But they stood
together, resisting the waves. One dwarf finally went down, and another, and
another, until it was only Marcus and Barin left fighting. By then, there were
nearly two hundred darkspawn corpses littering the ground. “I hate it when they
don’t follow orders,” said Barin. The darkspawn were retreating now, but not
out of fear. They were making room for their secret weapon—an armored Ogre.
“Oh, sod,” said Barin.

“I’ve killed one of these before,” said Marcus, breathing
heavily. “Their armor is weak at the joints. Go for the knees first.”

“I’ll see if I can reach,” said Barin. The two charged at
the beast, screaming. The Ogre immediately grabbed the dwarf.

“Barin!” shouted Marcus. But the dwarf was still alive,
and he wasn’t about to let the Ogre get an easy meal. With his axe still in
hand, he hacked and slashed ferociously at the Ogre’s armor. To Marcus’s
surprise, the armor weakened, and scraps of it fell off. The Ogre wasn’t
amused, and quickly ripped the Dwarf in half.

Marcus was in a rage. “Death!” he shouted as he charged
for the Ogre. He dodged kicks and punches from the beast, until he was able to
strike a blow at its unarmored neck. The Ogre staggered backwards, and Marcus
leapt towards the beast, sending his blade into its throat. The beast fell back
with a satisfying “thud”.

Marcus let out a scream of victory. A victory that was
short-lived, for in the distance darkspawn archers gathered for a volley.

Marcus did not charge towards them. He did not hurl
himself into the ranks of those beasts like he imagined he would. He planted
his blade into the dirt, stood, and looked on at the archers. They released
their arrows.

The next few moments went by as hours to Marcus. He
reflected on his life, on his many fights with the darkspawn. He had remembered
fighting side by side with King Marric against the Orleasians. He remembered
finding Lucas in that back alley, the event that gave him a son. He remembered
the Grey Warden motto.

In war, victory. He fought in countless wars and
experienced countless victories. He had killed many men and had his blood
mingle with their own. There were hundreds of brave soldiers he was proud to
call his brothers.

In peace, vigilance. On many occasions, Marcus found
himself in places other than a battlefield. He had been drinking with friends,
shared rooms with lovers, and experienced the simple joys of life.

In death, sacrifice. Now he was here, moments before his
doom. A cloud of arrows soared towards him. He closed his eyes. A breath, a
heartbeat, maybe two, and he was finished. The only thing left of Marcus was the
memory of him which lived on in the hearts of all who had ever known him.

In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death,
sacrifice._

Short, I know, but let me know what you think.

Modifié par I.AM.DUNCAN, 06 mars 2011 - 10:02 .