149 réponses à ce sujet

[Sialater]

Finally caught up again! You've got me on the edge of my seat, hurry up, already!

[SRWill64]

Love it, as always! Keep up the good work and I am looking forward to the next part of the story.

I keep wondering if Alistair and Neria will get together...if he stops bring up painful thoughts and memories with her....

[bloodtallow]

OK, my disclaimer: This kinda started out as an April Fool's joke that decided to um... not be a joke. So if you're surprised at where this went: yeah. Me too. Thanks for reading!
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Chapter Twelve, Part One

Gripping the mace tightly, Alistair walked back from the Highever dock, as the last of the ship's sails - the Manticore, newly-repaired and bearing twenty of Neria's Wardens sworn to protect the vhen'tallenahr - vanished over the horizon bound for the Free Marches.

He shook his head. He had hoped to feel relief at this moment, as the godstone was carried away from Ferelden to a safer port, and one Neria remained convinced would ultimately help the Dalish Wardens in their fight against the darkspawn.

But the dull iron weapon in his hand had removed all sense of satisfaction, replacing it with an empty echoing in his head, as he tried for the second time in a decade to figure out why a Paragon's arms had managed to find their way topside, in the hands of the darkspawn.

We left them at the Anvil.

After Branka's death they had made a... well, it could hardly have been called a cairn, for there was nothing in it. There had, he shuddered to remember, been no body to recover when the Paragon had taken her final steps, casting herself into the lava below the ruined Anvil. Against Oghren's shock and grief they had done the only thing they could, building an empty grave and placing within it the shield and mace that Branka had carried.

And then we sealed it.

He remembered the magic flowing from Neria's palms as she smoothed the earth, reshaping it until the individual stones were blended together and became one, a single slab of rock protecting the memory of the Paragon. A tombstone where Oghren carved the last honors of Branka's house.

What force could have opened the spell-sealed tomb they had made? The path they had cut to the Anvil was drenched in blood, and upon returning to Orzammar Bhelen had pronounced Caridin's legacy lost forever - the roads leading from Bownammar were cut off, buried beneath rubble at the edict of the dwarven king. The golems that remained had joined the service of the Orzammar guard, but no one, either dwarf or golem, was ever permitted to venture as deeply within the Deep Roads as the Anvil again.

Or so Bhelen said.

It had been years since Alistair had ventured to Orzammar to meet his ally. Now, absently hefting the mace from hand to hand, he questioned his own decision to remain so removed from dwarven politics, when clearly something had occurred which Bhelen had never told him.

He stopped as he reached the main road back to the castle and slung Branka's weapon into the satchel on his shoulder. Neria and Fergus stood together at the dock's edge, discussing a detachment of Wardens Leliana had requested be left behind in Highever. Fergus had just started to protest when Alistair caught up to them.

"I swore to Leliana that I'd keep Highever safe, my friend." He nodded at Neria. "We may have protected the godstone itself, but there is still a grave threat here. I will not head for Orzammar without leaving a detachment of Wardens here to safeguard your people."

Fergus threw his hands up and shook his head.

"Very well then, Alistair, though I think you're worrying too much. Highever can stand on its own, or so my father would always have liked to believe." He trailed off for a moment, looking past them to the dust on the road, memories clearly playing across his face as he grimaced.

"But he did not see the Ostagar that I did, nor did he have a trained bard and master of persuasion as his wife and partner."

He held out his hand and Alistair took it, knowing the other man's gaze to hold more than just the frustration of being assigned a guard he had not requested, or being forced to remember a grim chapter of his life during the Blight. There was an offer of his own in Fergus' eyes, and gently, Alistair shook his head.

"Gladly would I have you by my side, Fergus. But should anything happen, Maker knows I need you here, for so many things..."

He did not have to ask aloud for the most important of them all, for he knew that Fergus and Leliana would be loving parents to Wynne, and would raise her as their own: pirates, Norice, caramels and all.

Face softening, Fergus nodded, giving his hand a last firm squeeze before they parted.

"And besides, Your Grace," Neria said, "my Wardens will be happy to teach you how to ride the halla during their stay."

"Well, with an offer like that, how can I refuse?" Fergus smiled wryly at her, shaking his head.

Together, they walked back to the castle, going their separate ways to finish packing or planning. Alistair wrote a last letter to Wynne, advising her to look for bandits in the palace study, and to take care during her swordplay lessons. Then he donned armor, sword and shield, and met the departing Wardens and crown soldiers in the castle courtyard, waving a last goodbye to Fergus as he passed the teyrn's chambers.

Neria was leaving twelve of her Wardens at Highever, along with those halla that had not accompanied the Dalish back to the Free Marches. Nine Wardens, and Neria herself, would join Alistair's crown squadron to meet Oghren in Orzammar.

Alistair stood at the edge of the courtyard, waiting for his soldiers to assemble. Neria stood next to him, adjusting the straps on her armor. The sun was already baking into the stones of the courtyard, making him tired in the heat. He didn't notice the snuffling sounds behind him, and started when something pressed firmly against his shoulder.

Neria laughed at his surprise, and from behind him, Alistair heard an answering whuffing sound, as though something else was laughing.

He turned, and found himself looking into the silver face of Shann, the halla matriarch. She stared at him, snuffling softly, before turning to look at Neria, and once again Alistair knew there was a conversation taking place that he could not hear.

Neria's face changed from amusement to confusion and back again. Then, half smiling, half laughing, she patted the halla's great head, murmuring, "If that's what you want."

Shann bobbed her head slightly and nuzzled Alistair's shoulder again.

"What was that about?" He asked, confused at the hidden joke between elf and halla.

"She's chosen you," Neria replied, looking from Shann to Alistair and back again. "Shann has selected you as her vhen'lethallan."

"W-what?"

Other Wardens had gathered around them now, watching the scene. Some looked on curiously, their expressions lost beneath their colorful tattoos. But others smiled at him, the griffons on their armor flashing in the sun as though those mythical beasts were laughing at him too.

"It's only happened once before, in all the songs of the northern Dales," Thea, one of Neria's lieutenants said, sharing her Commander's smile. "It is a rare thing, truly, for a halla to choose to bond with a shem."

"You mean..." He looked back at Shann, peering into her golden eyes in confusion.

"Shann has chosen you as a friend of the people. She has elected to become your protector in the Deep Roads."

"I--" He had no idea what to say. He turned from Neria to Shann, and back again.

Neria smiled again, nodding her head toward the halla matriarch.

"Listen. You'll see."

Brow furrowing, Alistair looked back at those golden eyes, trying to ignore the amused smiles and quiet laughter of the Dalish around them, and waited.

The presence he had felt from Shann on the road to Highever once again asserted itself in his mind. Gently, like someone holding out a hand to greet him, he felt Shann's own thoughts touch his own.

Why? He barely had to imagine the word before he felt her taking it in and returning to him with an answer, quietly unfolding her own memories and emotions before him.

He saw as though in a dream, Shann in a forest clearing, kneeling before a younger halla, nuzzling what he suddenly understood as her own child as it took its first few steps on its own. As though Shann were speaking to him in words, he could hear her pride and protectiveness. And when the memory faded, he could feel the lingering emotions, withdrawing slowly, like sand swirling away in a stream.

"She wants to protect me?" He looked at Neria. "But why? The Deep Roads are no place for a... a halla."

The elven Warden shook her head.

"Don't ask me. Ask her."

Again he looked at Shann, gazing into her eyes. Tentatively, he reached out his thoughts to touch the connection.

But why would you do this?

At once an image filled his mind: a war-party of darkspawn was running through a forest, the taint following them like a tide, twisting the trees and bracken until the forest lay black and wounded in their wake. In a clearing of the forest a halla stood, wounded, a pile of genlocks at its feet.

Shann was the largest halla Alistair had ever seen, but this halla was even bigger, a massive buck with ornate, twisting horns and flashing amber eyes. As the darkspawn fell upon him he cried aloud, lashing out with hooves and horns. The genlocks and their hurlock overlords surrounded him, tearing at his flesh and beating at his legs with wooden mallets, until the great halla fell to the ground, overwhelmed, screaming one final cry which was soon lost beneath the guttural calls of the darkspawn hunters.

The memory faded, leaving a wave of sadness in its place, and Alistair reeled, suddenly dizzy from the onslaught of images.

"Shann lost her lifemate to the darkspawn." Neria said quietly, and Alistair heard the halla snuffle quietly beside him, again reaching out to nuzzle his shoulder. Before he could think about what he was doing, he reached out, running his fingers down Shann's silver nose in a movement that felt almost like instinct.

Something which had been lurking beneath the surface of his senses now suddenly clicked into place as he ran his fingers through the halla's glossy coat.

"You bear the taint," he murmured to her softly, feeling the familiar snarl lurking within her blood.

He turned to Neria.

"How... why does she--"

Neria nodded her head, answering his half-spoken question.

"Shann has undergone the Joining."

"But... I never... how can a... a halla go through the Joining?" He kept his voice low, trying not to attract the attention of Fergus' soldiers, who were helping the crown lieutenants load the last of their travel supplies into their packs.

"Do you remember that story we heard in the Brecilian Forest? How elves once rode upon the backs of the halla when they went to war?"

"Yes, vaguely."

"As you know, our Wardens do the same. But because the taint kills most animals within days of exposure, it would be almost impossible to do this with any ordinary animal. Our halla companions are those who have either survived the taint on their own, or who have Joined. The protection the ritual offers them is the same: Shann is immune to the taint."

Shann's presence in his mind flickered again, sending forth an immediate answer to Alistair's surprise and revulsion. Her willingness and understanding flooded him until it was almost as though she were speaking the words aloud.

Choice.

"It was your choice?" He repeated. He was stunned, and in more ways than one. He had never realized how deeply the connection between the Dalish and their halla ran, nor had he imagined that other creatures could survive the taint without becoming transformed, like blight wolves or bereskarn, or the tainted spiders he had seen during the blight.
And yet here was proof, standing before him - a massive halla with the taint in her veins, but mastered, just like a Grey Warden. And not just an animal, but a creature of intelligence, capable of thought, memory, and...

Humor.

"So you really want to do this?" He asked Shann, as Neria stood beside him and the Dalish Wardens broke into proud smiles. "You want to follow me into the Deep Roads as a... as a Warden?"

Acceptance and happiness filled him as Shann nodded her head, then called aloud, trumpeting to the sky.

Alistair smiled and shook his head.

"Very well, Shann. I welcome your service as Ferelden's newest Grey Warden."

Somewhere, Alistair thought to himself, as the Wardens and crown soldiers left Highever and turned west toward the Frostbacks, with Shann carrying him smoothly like some strange twist between a surrogate mother and an honor guard, the Maker must be laughing.

Modifié par bloodtallow, 01 avril 2010 - 10:56 .

[Sisimka]

BT, this is just such a lovely installment!

[bloodtallow]

Thanks, Sisimka! When Shann decided she wanted to come along I thought she was crazy. But I'm glad it worked.

[Freckles04]

I loved it!

[Hirdas]

Lovely

[Sandtigress]

Ha, great chapter! April Fool's joke turned "canon" - April Fool's indeed!

[Kahlmulandr]

[Ilvra]

Finally catching up, and enjoying it a lot.

I needed tissues for this last chapter... I'm such a sap.

[bloodtallow]

Chapter Twelve, Part Two

The terrain roughened as they moved west: the north road becoming tree-lined and skirted by rough hillocks and rock-strewn ridges. They were halfway to the Frostbacks when he felt it, that sinister twisting on the edge of his nerves. Everyone paused - the Wardens because of their own reeling senses, his own crown lieutenants because they read the expression of their king. Shann stopped her easy gait and snorted at the wind as Alistair dismounted.

Neria turned to him, her face grim.

"Darkspawn," they whispered together.

Already the Green Griffons who had accompanied them were fanning out along the road, forming a rough circle as they drew bows and blades. Neria stood in the center, magic burning on her fingertips as they waited for battle.

Shann saw them first, rushing back along the road behind Alistair, impaling an advancing genlock on her horns before the creature could reach him. He turned, moving in her wake as more darkspawn poured from the trees and leapt down upon them from the ridge above the road, dispatching any darkspawn who evaded the halla's massive hooves and striking horns.

The sudden whine of an arrow sounded from the ridgeline, and Alistair pivoted reflexively, blocking the missile with his shield. More archers grunted from the trees and he widened his stance, waving his shield like a beacon to protect Shann's flanks. The crown soldiers ran forward to climb the ridge, Basil leading them. Behind them, two of Neria's Wardens shot arrows back into the trees, the grunts and screams of darkspawn testament to their flawless aim.

The sounds of clashing metal and hissing spells echoed along the road behind him, as Neria and her Wardens fought against a second wave of darkspawn which threatened to flank them, cutting off any means of retreat along the road.

Too late did Alistair realize they were surrounded. Shann screamed, an arrow protruding from her shoulder, as one of the crown soldiers along the ridge took a blow to the head and crumpled to the ground. More than a dozen genlocks descended from the trees and charged at the halla, surging around Alistair and the Warden archers, their blades glinting menacingly.

As though angered by her bleeding shoulder, Shann charged them, her head lowered and horns flashing. She plowed into the darkspawn, impaling or trampling, as Alistair wove alongside her, dispatching those she knocked to the ground, or stunning the stragglers with his shield.

More arrows rained from the trees and he raised his shield to block them from reaching Shann. Basil and his soldiers had reached the top of the ridge and were engaging most of the archers hand-to-hand, but the genlocks outnumbered them, and many still fired at the halla, seeking the biggest target in the battlefield.

Brandishing his shield as though he could draw their fire, Alistair stood in front of Shann, meeting the next volley of arrows. Like a rain of steel the missiles clattered against his shield as three, four, five, six arrows were deflected from their course.

The seventh hit him in the chest, slicing between the plates of his armor, cutting against skin and flesh and bone until it met its mark.

Alistair gasped as the arrow pierced his lung. He recoiled, raising his shield as Shann turned to him, catching him before he fell.

Blinking against the pain, Alistair forced himself to remain standing, as the halla ground the last of the darkspawn to the road beneath her hoof.

"Your Majesty!" Basil cried, pointing along the ridge to where Neria and her Wardens were fighting. A hurlock mage stood there, hands spread and arms waving in the clear stages of summoning a massive spell. All around their party, from the grim-faced Wardens to the horror-stricken men of Denerim, the air crackled, spun, and froze, waiting for the final word from the grunting hurlock.

Alistair reached for the energy to cast a templar spell, but it was no good. The arrow in his chest made even breathing difficult, and pain lanced at his mind until he felt his concentration wavering. The spell fizzled. Raising his shield, he waited for the impact, Shann trumpeting beside him, a call of anger and defiance against the twisted magic.

"Here!" Neria shouted, mana crackling from her fingertips in a death tattoo as she faced the darkspawn emissary.

Alistair sensed the shift in the air as an answering surge of pure energy met the hurlock's tainted spell, Neria's own magic churning the air around them until the very wind smelled like burning lyrium and the sunlight began to turn blue.

Then Neria released her spell in a massive discharge of energy, and all went white around the enemy hurlock in a swirling cloud of air-borne mana. The spell killed the darkspawn mage instantly, burning him in the surge.

Alistair had barely heard its final grunting cry before he collapsed, gasping for air.

Beside him, Shann screamed, cold and hard as steel. There was a pause, when everything seemed to hold its breath. Then Neria, breathing heavily from the battle and the force of her spell, ran towards him along the road. She was already intoning the words of healing magic as she reached him, hands darting over his armor, releasing clasps and loosening straps, pulling at the iron carapace. In one swift movement she lifted off his breastplate, as with her other hand she reached in her belt pouch and produced a bright blue lyrium potion.

Gulping at the little vial she continued her intonations, grasping at the arrow shaft in one hand, and placing her other hand, already mana-charged and glowing, on his bloody skin. Her hand tightened around the arrow shaft as she twisted and pulled, murmuring softly as the mana flowed faster through her fingers.

The arrow broke free in a font of blood that made lieutenant Basil and several other crown soldiers gasp. But Alistair barely had time to register the pain before it was over, and his flesh mended like new-forged iron before his eyes.

With a final tingle of mana, Neria's spell finished, and her arcane murmurs ceased. Still gasping from shock, Alistair inhaled deeply, feeling breath fill his lungs. Nodding with satisfaction, Neria turned to Shann, murmuring another healing spell to tend to the halla's shoulder.

"That was... amazing." Lieutenant Basil said when she had finished healing the halla and a few other injuries among the crown soldiers.

"Indeed it was," Alistair agreed, slowly getting to his feet and looking around them.

With the hurlock emissary, he counted no fewer than forty darkspawn scattered about the road and the nearby trees. They had been outnumbered more than two to one, ambushed and surrounded. But they had prevailed.

"Let's move a bit further down the road and make camp. We should reach Orzammar tomorrow."

Barring any more interruptions.

They made camp within an hour, finding a clearing and a nearby stream far enough away from the darkspawn for the taint to stop snarling at their senses.

All in all, not a terrible day, Alistair considered, feeling just a slight ache where the arrow had pierced his chest.

He had been lucky, he smiled to himself, watching Shann graze nearby, as Neria lit a roaring campfire with a single arcane word, crown soldiers settled nearby or broke into pairs for night patrol, and elven Wardens appeared out of the night shadows with rabbits and other small game to cook for dinner.

Very lucky.

Modifié par bloodtallow, 06 avril 2010 - 06:12 .

[Sandtigress]

Ohh great chapter, lots of actions! Thanks for keeping me entertained here at the airport!

[Sisimka]

Great chapter! (And can I now note that I am not the only one to have pierced Alistair with an arrow, or two?)

[bloodtallow]

Chapter Thirteen

Orzammar was scarcely the same place it had been during the Blight. If his feet had not remembered the path through the Frostback Mountains, Alistair would scarcely have recognized the entrance to the dwarven city.

No longer did the grim statues of the Paragons stand outside the main gates, glaring down upon intruders. And no longer were the massive doors leading into Orzammar proper barred shut for all but those on king's business.

Instead, colored tents and brightly-adorned merchant stalls filled the courtyard before the city. The gates were thrown open, and dwarves milled around the stalls and stands, hawking their wares and bartering for goods, as cityfolk and surface dwarves alike wandered in and out of the city as they pleased.

Coming closer, Alistair, Neria, Shann, Basil and their party passed stalls selling ale, lichen bread, cave silks, and fresh roasting nug meat, before the crowds grew so thick in the courtyard they were forced to stop and wait for the onlookers around a glass-blowing stand to disperse.

"Market day," Lieutenant Basil muttered beside him. "It figures."

"Market day?"

A lot has changed while I've been holed up in Denerim. He sighed to himself, wondering if he shouldn't have been here to see some of it in person. Not that Bhelen seems to be doing badly these days.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Basil answered, and though he clearly meant to keep his voice quiet, his words sent a ripple of whispers throughout the crowd.

"His Majesty?"

"The human King? Here?"

"Where? Let me see!"

Heads turned, eyes widened and gasps filled the air as Orzammar's dwarves got their first look at Ferelden's king. Alistair had barely had time to dismount from Shann before the crowd enveloped them.

It took them nearly an hour to make their way through the throng of well-wishers, curious onlookers, not-so-innocent bystanders and the occasional pickpocket and reach the inner city doors. By that time, Alistair felt as tired as if he had been fighting darkspawn for an afternoon. He had forgotten how fascinating the spectacle of a new king could be; in the years since his coronation the citizens of Denerim and its surrounds had gotten used to seeing him on the throne, and, thankfully, their initial fervor had died down.

But he was certainly a new king to these dwarves, and was being reminded of it, painfully. His hands had been shaken until they were numb and his ears were ringing with the tumult of the marketplace. He was glad for Shann's support beside him. At least some of the dwarves had been more interested in greeting the halla than they had in him.

"I'm sorry, ser," Basil said, when they had finally found enough air and open space to breathe. "I didn't mean to--" He winced, looking as though the mad crowds and pressing strangers had all been his fault.

Alistair smiled.

"It's all right, Basil. I should have known we'd cause a stir after being away for so long."

"But the people here are certainly more... effusive in their greetings than they are in Denerim."

"Well, at least we know they think I have a handsomer chin than Bhelen does."

"Is that what you heard?" Neria said softly, her mouth quirking in a knowing smile, "I thought they were talking about something altogether different."

Shann made a strange snorting cough beside him: halla laughter. Shaking his head, Alistair turned to lead the party to the main gates before any of them could see his smile.

The inner city roads were less crowded, as most of the city-dwellers enjoyed the market outside. The party dispersed, glad to have a few moments at ease. Basil and most of the soldiers who had accompanied them wandered among the less crowded stalls along the Commons, though a few more adventurous Wardens had ventured into Tapster's in search of ale.

As they reached the entrance to the Diamond Quarter, Neria paused.

"I'm going to talk with some of the merchants, maybe refresh our supplies."

"Are you sure you don't want to meet the king again? Say hello?"

He chuckled at Neria's grimace, remembering only too keenly the words she had traded with Bhelen the last time they had left Orzammar.

"No, I think both of us will probably do better to avoid such an intimate reunion."

She shook her head, patting Shann's shoulder as the halla whuffed in confusion.

"Oh, it's a long story," she said, turning to lead the halla away to rejoin her Wardens. "A long story."

#

Like the rest of Orzammar, Bhelen's palace was hardly recognizable beneath the wild colors, lavish textiles, exotic artwork, and strange gadgets from the surface. In fact, the king's chambers more resembled those of an itinerant merchant, or a strange inventor, than a sovereign.

One thing remained constant, however. As he sat before a table covered in maps and diagrams of the Deep Roads, and bearing a pair of daggers covered in what looked suspiciously like blood, Bhelen Aeducan had lost none of the clever glow in his eyes, nor the calculating half-smile on his face as Alistair entered.

"Alistair," he said simply, nodding to the chair at the table across from him.

"Bhelen," Alistair replied, trying not to smile as he took a seat. Meeting Orzammar's king was much like sitting down with an assassin to play a game of Antivan roulette, he thought to himself. You never knew all the cards in play.
"I trust you had a pleasant journey here."

"Oh, it was mild enough, despite all the darkspawn."

Both kings shared a humorless laugh.

"Oghren left three days ago. I told him to send me a messenger if anything occurred. So far, I've had no news from him."

"That's a good sign, I hope." He wouldn't even allow himself to dwell on any other possibility.

"Indeed."

Bhelen poured a goblet of wine for Alistair and another for himself. They drank for a moment in silence.
"I understand the darkspawn have been making raids on the surface?"

"Yes. Well, two main raids. Five years ago they attacked our Wardens at Vigil's Keep. And lately they... they destroyed the Tower of Magi." Alistair took another sip of wine, trying to quell the burning memory.

"The point is, both times they attacked, we found... evidence that the darkspawn had somehow come into contact with..."

"Branka's remains. I know. Oghren told me as much, and I had no answers to give him, either."

Bhelen rose and paced the length of the table, his face unreadable.

"All I do know is that the Deep Roads have changed since the Blight. The darkspawn aren't the mindless creatures they used to be. They are cunning, dare I even say strategic opponents. My men tell me that some of them can talk in our tongue, that they have even approached our patrols to speak."

"They talk?"

"Riddles in the darkness, mostly. Threats, ramblings. But each one of them has also mentioned a leader. Some architect of the darkspawn plans. Something intelligent, that guides them to their purpose. Whatever the situation is in the Deep Roads, it's larger than any of us realizes."

"Architect?" Bhelen's news echoed in Alistair's head until it spun. None of it made sense. None of it followed what he had been told about the darkspawn, what he had seen them capable of during the Blight.

"But why? Why would they care about a Paragon? How could they even have found her..."

Her tomb, lost in Caridin's void-forge. Where no one ever should have gone.

"I have a theory," Bhelen said, turning and continuing his measured pacing. "Two years ago I sent men on a long-term reconnaissance mission, past Ortan Thaig. They were to scout as far as Bownammar, collect whatever information they could find on darkspawn activity, and return. But they never came back."

He stopped pacing and sat at the table again, drinking from his goblet before he continued.

"Three weeks ago, one of them returned. He was... corrupted by the darkspawn. But before he died, he mentioned a few things which gave me concern."

"But..." Alistair, shook his head. Bownammar. The Dead Trenches. Ruins completely overtaken by the darkspawn and abandoned by the dwarves. Even the Legion of the Dead no longer ventured that deeply into the lost dwarven empire. There was no reason to send anyone there, even for scouting. Unless...

He can't have sent men to reclaim the Anvil?

A sudden, burning anger filled him as he pictured the sheer sacrifice involved in repeating that dark chapter of dwarven history, in making another army of golems, as a river of blood ran red through the Deep Roads.

"Are you saying what I think you are?"

"That I sent men to find Caridin's greatest creation? That I sought to reform the army that protected Orzammar in its time of greatest need?"

Bhelen's eyes flashed.

"What choice would you have made, Alistair, were your people at such a risk? Did you know the darkspawn actually breached Orzammar?"

"What?"

And just as suddenly, he felt his anger being eclipsed by shock at Bhelen's words.

"N-no, I... I didn't. When?"

"Three years ago. They crawled up from the lower tunnels in Dust Town. We lost much to drive them back."

For once, the dwarven king's face dimmed, and Alistair saw a momentary glimmer of pain in his eyes.

"I--"

His voice quavered as the righteous outrage that had filled him flickered and died. Wynne's smiling face filled his mind, followed by the faces of other friends and loved ones. Eamon, Simon, Oghren, Fergus, Neria and Shann, more and more, all marching through his thoughts in a long line of honor and love, duty and obligation.

Of course I would, to save them. I would do any--

He cut his thoughts off with a shake of his head.

"Well. Tell me what he told you, then. I'll need to be prepared if I'm to head into the Deep Roads."

He turned to the maps and figures lying on the table and Bhelen did the same. For an instant, their eyes met, and Alistair knew that both of them shared the same expression.

#

"Copper for your thoughts? Did Bhelen have bad news?"

Neria met him as Alistair emerged from the Diamond Quarter, Shann beside her.

"Of course. When darkspawn are involved, is there news of any other kind?" His voice came out harsher than he had meant it, and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry. He just gave me a lot to think about."

"That sounds familiar."

He sighed, looking out over the city Commons, and down, to the entrance to the Deep Roads, as the Wardens and crown soldiers collected their packs and provisions for the long journey to meet Oghren.

Shann nuzzled his shoulder, and Alistair ran his fingers through her thick, silver coat automatically as he tried to get his thoughts into order.

"When you were... when you've recruited your Wardens, have your Joinings gone well?"

If the question was strange to her Neria gave no signal.

"Our Joinings have been unusually successful, yes. I attribute that to the ease of recruiting without the Blight."
"You just... you seem to have made an army out there, in the Free Marches. And here we're... well, we've been..."

It's been hard.

He felt pressed, as through a great weight was bearing down on him, a roiling tide of destruction and death and unanswered mysteries. And suddenly he could not suppress a shudder as he looked at the gateway to the Deep Roads.

"I lost many, too." Neria continued gently. "Friends, enemies..."

She trailed off, her eyes following his, down the road to that blackened door.

"I remember them all. And I rejoice in all those who survived."

As if to remind them of their most recent survivor, Shann whinnied and nosed his shoulder again, ready to be on the move.

"But sometimes, that doesn't make it feel any better."

Grimly, Alistair smiled, and Neria nodded back. Then they turned, and let Shann guide them toward the Deep Roads.

Modifié par bloodtallow, 15 avril 2010 - 02:46 .

[Sandtigress]

Ick, the Deep Roads. I hate the Deep Roads....



Great chapter, looking forward to the next!

[Sisimka]

The anticipation is overwhelming! (Also, don't think I've forgotten about Leliana...)

[bloodtallow]

Sisimka wrote...

The anticipation is overwhelming! (Also, don't think I've forgotten about Leliana...)

Oh, don't you worry! She'll be back. But it takes ages to sail to Orlais! :innocent:

Thanks for reading, as always!

[bob-san]

Another excellent story to add to my list of ones to keep up on. Well done Bloodtallow!

[SRWill64]

Sisimka wrote...

Great chapter! (And can I now note that I am not the only one to have pierced Alistair with an arrow, or two?)

Alistair = our favorite pin-cushion! LOL
@Bloodtallow
You're doing great on the story. It may have started out as an April Fool's Day joke, but it appears the joke was on you! lol

Modifié par SRWill64, 25 avril 2010 - 01:53 .

[SRWill64]

Is there any more?

[Marine0351WPNS]

Great story!!! Moooorre!!!

[SRWill64]

Hello....is anybody out there???

13 days since the last post...wow....

[bloodtallow]

OK, I'm finally back, at least in some capacity. Sorry for the insane wait on the next installment. Thank you for reading!
------

Chapter Fourteen, Part One

They met Oghren at Caridin's Cross. The dwarf stood, leaning on his battleaxe, broken stone and the remains of butchered darkspawn at his feet. He grinned when he saw them, seeming perfectly at home with the caked blood splattered across his armor, and the taint-stained corpses at his feet.

"Took you long enough," he said when they approached, "you almost missed all the fun."

"It's good to see you in one piece, my friend," Alistair said, clasping Oghren's hand in greeting, and saluting the crown soldiers who stood by him, before kneeling to sort through the mangled pile at their feet.

Shann stood beside him, picking through the wreckage with her own silver hooves, nudging at the debris. Alistair could not withhold a grimace as he remembered what Bhelen had told him.

"Is this?" He looked up at Oghren, pointing to the bloody rock and shattered stone at his feet.

"Yep. Whole squadron of golems passed through here an hour ago. We buried most of them in one of the smaller tunnels, but a few stragglers made it through."

"Golems?" Neria asked, her voice sharp with alarm. "Why on earth would golems attack us?"

"Use your senses," Oghren said, and Alistair knew he was referring to their Warden senses, not sight or smell.

Neria closed her eyes, and Alistair cast out his own senses as she did so. Grimly, the familiar throbbing in his head corroborated Bhelen's warning.

"It's tainted," Oghren said for the benefit of the crown soldiers near them.

"How is that possible?" Neria whispered, grimacing against the writhing nausea the tainted corpses around them induced.

Alistair held back a wince, knowing what he must say next.

"The Anvil of the Void has been rebuilt."

The shock on the faces around him was plainly written. Neria shook her head, her face contorting with anger, an anger he knew she felt towards Bhelen, and towards themselves.

"But we destroyed it."

"We destroyed it using the magic and steel of humans and elves, and, meaning no disrespect," he nodded at Oghren, "a dwarven outcast. We were hardly engineers about it, and whatever we did was apparently less than permanent."

He held up his hand to allay further questions. Without thinking, he rested his other hand on Shann's shoulder, feeling the halla's gentle presence in his mind, giving him strength.

I've got to come to terms with this. We all do. And this was not the place or the time to pick apart Bhelen's motives. He sighed, and continued.

"Regardless of how it happened, the Anvil has been overrun by darkspawn. Now the horde use it to craft golems of their own. Whether they do this from dwarves they find in the Deep Roads, or whether they've used their own kind, we don't know. But the golems have gone mad with the taint. They must be destroyed, with the rest of the darkspawn."

He turned to the Wardens and crown soldiers, grimacing as he remembered what Bhelen had told him at the palace.

"Be wary. The Deep Roads have changed. Bhelen also has news of a new force of darkspawn, cunning and intelligent. Darkspawn that talk."

"Talking darkspawn?" Lieutenant Basil repeated, sounding shocked. "I didn't think that was possible."

"It gets still worse. Bhelen believes that a new Broodmother has arisen near the Dead Trenches."

He turned to Neria.

"One more powerful than the one we encountered."

Whispers and murmurs followed this announcement, and the entire party was at grave risk of being overrun in confusion. Alistair shook his head. He felt no better prepared for having known what was coming than any of the soldiers now clustered before him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back the headache that threatened there, trying for just a moment to drown out the ceaseless questions he could not answer.

In the end it was Shann who broke the mayhem, raising her head and trumpeting shrilly, her voice echoing off the stones in a beautiful but eerie call. One by one, the soldiers fell silent.

"Are we done chit-chatting?" Oghren grumbled, nodding in approval at the halla. "Let's get going, before they invent even more ways to stick a thorn in our sides."

Shann whuffed in apparent agreement, and led the way forward, stepping nimbly over the darkspawn corpses and down the road.

It was when they turned towards Bownammar that it happened. The dull air of the Deep Roads suddenly lit up with a wild reverberation. Directionless noise swirled around them, until it seemed the very stones at their feet were shaking from some great power. And over the top of the current a voice sang.

First day we come, and catch everyone.

Modifié par bloodtallow, 26 mai 2010 - 03:45 .

[Sandtigress]

Um, tainted golems? Creeeeeeeeepy.....

[bloodtallow]

Just a quick note to anyone who stumbles across this project: I do plan on someday finishing the tale herein, but unfortunately, I haven't enough writing time on my hands to handle this fic and my other obligations. So for now anyway, Ever After is going on hiatus.



Thank you all for reading, and best of luck in your own wonderful fiction creations!