From the Ashes: Sparks of Disaster (ch. 20) (Patreon)

“Ugly fuckers,” I muttered, a bow in hand as I was placed upon the bridge with the rest of the archers. My choice, really. Without my magic, I was a piss poor fighter that wouldn’t win a straight fight. And, I suspect, I wouldn’t get a fair fight against darkspawn -- especially not when I would be fighting shoulder to shoulder with a hodgepodge of soldiers. However, I also picked the position due to the fact that it gave me the ability to overlook the battle itself.

The darkspawn horde gathered across a field that I think was once a courtyard for Ostagar given that there was an odd lack of trees and the like. Their faces were stark white, most were missing their noses and lips, with the odd wisps of hair upon their heads. Most startling, however, was the fact that their blood was black. It poured from their mouths and dripped down their faces as it seemed that the darkspawn had mutilated themselves prior to the battle.

Smart, I guess. According to the Wardens, the taint spread through their blood and fluids. Meaning that if they bled on you and it got into an open wound, you were dead because the taint was absolutely fatal. The fact that they managed to figure that out honestly scared the absolute shit out of me.

In short, every story that I had ever heard about the monsters that nearly brought the world to ruin four times before and were going for a fifth attempt had completely unprepared me for the reality of them. Some were small but bulky, like if dwarves had bred with bears, which were called genlocks, others were taller, called hurlocks, and the tallest of them all stood a full fifteen feet in the air complete with horns were ogres. They seemed to pour from the treeline in the mid-afternoon, the sun sparing no detail. The smell was absolutely horrid when the wind carried the stench towards us.

To counter the horde that was gathering, the armies of Ferelden were setting up a defensive perimeter. Barricades were erected in front of the army with the front line wielding pikes. From where I stood, I saw that the King was near the front of the line with what seemed to be the rest of the Grey Wardens. Between the two hundred archers on the bridge between Ostagar and the Tower of Ishal, I think we had a decent setup but I didn’t know for sure. For all I knew, we were about to get wiped out to the last man.

My Rabbits, thankfully, weren’t among the army. We were servants in the eyes of humans, thus a liability during battle. On my orders, I had them prepare to flee with every elf, Rabbit or no, that they could.

Then, on some signal, the darkspawn horde charged. I notched my bow, pulling back the arrow, and cast True Strike by tapping a finger on the arrow before I let it loose with the rest of the archers. Arrows rained down upon the darkspawn as they charged, skewering them. Only a handful had any armor, I noticed. Most were wearing a mess of different smashed-together bits or they were entirely naked. The arrow that I loosed landed in the eye of a hurlock, snapping his head back before he was trampled by a surge of darkspawn.

We got another two volleys off before the darkspawn slammed into the defensive line. They were slowed by the barricades, but they quickly got over them. My stomach clenched when I watched the horde not so much as crawl over the barricade, but slammed enough bodies into it that the spikes were ineffective and simply crawled over them. They were almost like ants, in a way.

The pikes were pretty much useless at keeping the darkspawn at bay. There was just too much weight behind the horde that pushed past the pikes and into the men. The pikemen were slaughtered, completely ravaged in seconds. The second and third lines quickly decided that the weapons were useless and began to hack and slash at the incoming darkspawn, but they were quickly felled.

I watched as the horde was pushing inwards and it seemed no matter how many arrows I let loose, it didn’t make a dent. Soon enough, the slaughter was so great that the bodies were acting as natural barricades that the darkspawn were having to crawl over. That, I saw, may have saved the army. What was left of the initial line fell back behind the heavily armored royal guard and Grey Wardens.

The darkspawn’s rough weapons were having a lot more difficulty getting through the armor, and their suicidal charge was halted. From there, as far as I could tell, it became a war of attrition. I saw an ogre go down, its chest filled with arrows and weapons, while another picked a man up and bit his head off. Us archers on the bridge quickly went through our quivers of arrows, the volley shots replaced by individual shots.

I wasn’t really sure how much time had gone by as the horde did everything it could to dislodge the human army and overrun us. There were times when it looked like the heavily armored line was going to break, but whenever it was, King Cailan was there along with the Grey Wardens. I couldn’t say that I cared for the king overly much, but I could admit that he knew how to be inspiring.

And, as I saw, he got about eight Grey Wardens killed with his inspiring displays.

“They’re retreating!” I heard an archer shout out as the back line of the darkspawn horde began to break away, retreating back into the forest. They were the first but with them running, the rest were quick to follow. Despite hours of fighting and mindless slaughter, it took the darkspawn minutes to withdraw completely and I saw a field of dead. I had no clue how many. Hundreds. Maybe a thousand. Two?

Our own losses were substantial, I noticed as well. Yet, all the same, King Cailan let out a cry.

“Victory!” He shouted, splattered with gore, thrusting his blackened blade into the sky and the entire army shouted with him. Everyone was exhausted, myself included, and the sense of relief that came from repelling the sudden attack. However, as I looked upon the dead, the absolute piles of them…

It was hard to describe this slaughter as a victory.

…

After the battle, the dead were burned. Apparently, we only lost about four hundred, but the Grey Wardens were convinced that we would end up losing more to blight sickness. It wasn’t an instant death, despite all that I had heard. The infected could have as long as a year to live, but throughout that time, their bodies and mind would degrade until they became something called a ghoul. My spies in the medical tents told me that there were about two hundred infected with the taint.

Just like that, we lost nearly a fourth of our army. The darkspawn bodies were gathered up and burned, releasing thick black oily smoke into the sky. They lost two thousand in total, putting us at even odds in theory. Yet, as the days went by as everything settled into a routine at Ostagar, reports came of more and more darkspawn that were spotted patrolling the wilds. Fewer scouts came back. The only consolation was the fact that the various arlings began funneling more soldiers to bolster our position.

So, as the darkspawns numbers grew,  ours did as well over the course of another month.

Or, perhaps, it would be truer to say that as our numbers grew, so did the darkspawn.

My days were spent mostly gathering information from various sources -- the letters that came in and out of the camp were read by me. I fostered a relationship with the ravens and I ended up having to sneak back up to Lothering to plant another dozen goodberry bushes. I also had the birds acting as scouts, giving me a rough idea of where the darkspawn were gathering, which I reported to the Grey Wardens, even if I refused to say how I got the information.

The gulf between me and the Wardens became more pronounced the longer that I stayed with them. It became clear that they were deliberately refusing to get to know me. Not really sure why, and no stalking around them whilst invisible gave me answers. But, I couldn’t say that I didn’t return the favor. Even if they did do me the favor of keeping the king away from me.

In the month, there were two more battles against the darkspawn. Certain Lessons were learned from the first and Loghain devised ways to blunt the darkspawn charges and the heavily armored units were placed at the head of the army. More archers were added to the bridge until I began to worry that it might collapse under all of us, but the mages probably made the most difference.

There were twelve of them and they were accompanied by thirty Templars. Despite my curiosity, I stayed well away from them. Merrill had discovered that I was a mage easily and I wasn’t a Grey Warden yet. Just a recruit. More than that, my magic was a secret I kept close to my chest. In this world, only the Sabrae Dalish Clan still knew of it and already that was too many for me.

In short, things settled into a rhythm. I had more free time than I was used to -- the spy network I had in the camp only needed so much maintenance, I was unable to practice my magic as I was used to due to the Templar's presence and my lack of prisoners, and outside the weekly letters from my commanders in the various Arlings, I didn't have a hands-on approach to the Rabbits. Meaning that I was forced to find other ways to spend my time.

"You have a sword, use it," Alistair barked at me, most of his body hidden behind a kite shield, hiding his sword arm as well. His eyes just barely peeked over the rim of his shield, ready to respond to any offensive. I wielded the Keening Blade in one hand and Fang in the other, choosing to dual wield instead of dealing with a shield. I was light on my feet and I should take advantage of it. However, I was starting to rethink the approach because attacking Alistair felt like attacking a brick wall with his shield and heavy armor.

In response, I lunged forward, the Keening Blade flickering out to his legs, to find the rim of his shield batting the blade off course before he attacked with his longsword with a sideways thrust. I blocked the swing with Fang, but I was unprepared for Alistair to step forward and slam the shield into my chest. I rolled backward, flipping to my feet with little difficulty beyond feeling like I got the wind knocked out of me.

I caught the next swing in an X between Fang and the Keening Blade, redirecting the blade before I thrust with the Keening Blade. In response, Alistair shifted, letting the blade skirt off of his armor harmlessly. When he attempted to slam the rim of the shield into my chest, I danced out of the way, avoiding the strike before I was forced to lean out of another swipe of his sword. I lunged out with the Keening Blade at his legs again, only for the blade to once again be batted to the side.

"Any half-trained idiot is going to know the gaps in their armor," Alistair voiced, his voice muffled by a Grey Warden helm that only left his eyes visible through a narrow slit. "If you want to get to them, then you need to be able to force an opening," he coached me.

I wasn't the greatest fighter and I was taking steps to correct it. Even if it did mean getting battered black and blue by a human without even using magic to give me an edge. I was trying to look at it as preparing for the future, in case I ever did have to fight templars.

Instead of responding verbally, I simply nodded, getting ready for another bout. Just as we were about to clash, I heard one of the other Warden call out, "Duncan's back!" I looked over, and only realized my mistake a split second before I was knocked on my ass by Alistair slamming me with his shield.

"That's great news!" Alistair said, clearly happy as he sheathed his red steel sword. Then he offered a hand to me. I hesitated a second before accepting the hand. Things between me and Alistair were distinctly cordial. I wasn't his biggest fan and he wasn't mine, but I think him beating me to the void and back was warming him up to me. I stood up, sheeting the Keening Blade and Fang into holsters I had the new quartermaster make for me. The last one ended up smashing his hand to bits with his own hammer. "Recruits?"

"Two of 'em from the looks of things," the Great Warden responded. "The King is meeting with them now, but from what I saw, one of them is blighted. An elf," the Warden said, glancing at me.

"Then I probably know him," I snarled at him, making the Warden roll his eyes. Alistair ignored the byplay, practically vibrating to see Duncan again after a long month without. Apparently, they had only met six months ago, but Duncan had certainly made an impression on Alistair. Though, given the circumstances of my own recruitment, that likely made sense. If Duncan was good for one thing, then it was making an impression.

And, much to my supreme annoyance, I did, in fact, know him.

After the audience with the King, Duncan was heading in our direction and, of all people, it had to be Theron that was traveling with him. I couldn't believe my eyes, even if I did have some difficulty believing it. His skin was deathly pale, his eyes glossy, and his expression told me that he was on the verge of spilling his guts. On the other side of Duncan was a human woman in her late teens to early twenties -- dark brown hair, steel gray eyes, pale skin but she was pretty with a strong jawline and high cheekbones. Her clothes were once fine, but the road had certainly worn them down.

Theron seemed every bit as shocked to see me when they neared. "Azoth?" He questioned, blinking at me.

"Theron. You look like shit," I remarked, crossing my arms over my chest. The Dalish elf straightened out, narrowing his eyes at me in return.

"And you look like you've been licking Shemlen boots," he returned, trying to sound intimidating but it came across more exhausted than anything.

Alistair looked between us, trying to not look amused with his helmet under his shoulder, "So you do know each other. What are the odds of that? Shouldn't you be getting along then?" He asked me, holding up his hands in surrender when both me and Theron turned out glares at him.

"You would think. Just like how all humans get along," I responded with scathing sarcasm. To that, Alistair inclined his head.

"That's… a completely fair point," he admitted while Theron spat on the ground in front of him.

"I would never get along with this flat ear," he groused and I made a show of rolling my eyes so hard they just about fell out of my head. "You hoarded knowledge for yourself! You left the clan to go back to the shemlen cities," he spat at me.

"As I recall, I gave Merrill that tome and I left because you Dalish are only good for prancing about the woods and talking about how terrible the humans are. Oh, and whinging about our empire that's been dead for a good two thousand years. It's pathetic, really," I returned and it was Duncan that ended the spat. He stepped between us, giving both of us a mild glare. I offered a shrug while Theron's lips curled into a snarl.

Duncan didn't look none too pleased, "I see introductions between you are not in order. However, Azoth, Alistair, this is-"

"Elissa Cousland," Elissa introduced herself, earning a blink out of me. She squared her shoulders, cocking her chin as she looked between Alistair and I, her gaze lingering on his face, and the scar on my neck.

"She's a lord shem," Theron told me as if I didn't already understand, and I saw that Elissa and Theron got on about as well as  Theron and I did. No surprise there. The man was an arse. Duncan let out a breath that told me his limitless patience wasn't so limitless at all.

That being said, he wasn't wrong. The Couslands were one of the two Teyrn families in Ferelden. Bryce Cousland had ruled since the end of the occupation, his son Fergus had arrived with a band of troops -- one of the few that were committing a sizable portion to the Blight. Most people seemed to think it was to shame the rest of Ferelden into committing more.

Elissa Cousland was the second child and only daughter to the family. A gifted warrior that preferred to use a broadsword, as I saw the handle on her back. She won the tourney at Highever last I heard. Beyond that, she was mostly a nonentity to me. She never made an appearance at court nor attended a Landsmeet even though she was already of age. An odd thing to be sure considering she was probably the most eligible woman in Ferelden at the moment, but if there was a reason for it, then it hadn’t reached my ears.

"I'm guessing you didn't use the same recruitment tactic that you did on me," I noted to Duncan.

In response, Elissa's lips thinned and her eyes hardened. However, even as she looked at Duncan with an accusation in her gaze, she didn't voice it. Interesting. So, Theron was recruited because the idiot got infected with the taint, Elissa was recruited against her will it seemed, and I was thrown in prison and extorted for my recruitment.

"Hm. I'm starting to see a pattern here, Duncan," I noted to him and got a mildly irritated glance in response.

"As Theron is ill with the taint, it would be best for you all to undergo the Joining immediately," Duncan voiced, making Alistair straighten up. "Alistair, you will be going with them into the Korcari Wilds where you will each gather a vial of darkspawn blood. Is that understood?" He questioned and Alistair snapped off a quick affirmative. Elissa had an interesting reaction of grimacing before her gaze shifted, as if she were trying to find an escape from joining up with the Wardens. Theron looked like he was about to kneel over and die.

I simply shrugged my shoulders, ready to get this over with. "Sure," I answered, my tone casual. Duncan seemed like he was starting to realize that forcing recruits into being Wardens may not have been the best policy, but he said nothing.

Despite the implication that we were going right then, Theron and Elissa ended up crashing for a handful of hours. During that time, I got a message from one of my Rabbits that overheard Cailan and Loghain talking.

Apparently, Arl Howe had attacked the Couslands after the latter had marched their army down here. Slaughtered them. Elissa got out thanks to Duncan and, from what I gathered, used the Right of Constipation in exchange for her life. From there, they ran into the Sabrae clan, who had just arrived in their Fall territory, and then they both marched south to Ostagar.

I had a runner send a message out to Soris -- the loss of the Couslands was sad and all, but it also meant that the Highever alienage was open to us. Howe was a right bastard that slaughtered a beloved family. Passing the Rabbits as a means of revenge would mean we could establish a presence in the city.

The rest of my time was spent speaking to Duncan about the comings and goings of the camp and he seemed rather pleased with the results. When he went over to Alistair to talk to him in low tones, I began to dress myself in preparation for going into the Wilds. I didn't have armor because I hadn't ever needed any, but the measurements that were taken back in Denerim ended up seeing some use. Pieces that were kept in stock were fitted by the quartermaster and his team of blacksmiths, which is why I found myself dressed in Grey Warden attire.

I didn't know much about armor, truth be told. A plate with a griffin was emblazoned on my chest, segmented plates covered my vitals, while thick blue cloth studded with iron covered the rest of me. The armor was heavier than I thought it would, and I didn't care much for that. Still, I knew I cut an impressive figure compared to my usual standards. With that done, I joined the others as they waited at the gate that separates the wilds from the camp that was made with many felled trees.

"I want all three of you to stay close to me," Alistair instructed. "This is part of the Joining -- you three are calling the shots for this, but when I say that we need to go, we need to go, got it?" Alistair said, speaking with a hint of uncertainty, his gaze flickering to Elissa.

""Got it,"" Elissa and I spoke at the same time, making our eyes meet. She narrowed her eyes while I cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, I just know this is going to be so much fun…" Alistair muttered under his breath while we entered the wilds, the gate closing behind us.

Theron sighed, his bow in hand with an arrow notched in the string, "Fun isn't the word that I would use, shem."

It has been some time since I had been in a forest, I reflected. Not since the Brecilian forest. However, the air was heavy with tension as we ventured into the wilds. It took no time at all for our party to be attacked by wolves, a pack of fifteen that were starving because the darkspawn drove away all of the game in the area. We slew them and I ended up collecting a red and white flower that I had heard the kennel master griping about when I wandered the camp unseen.

The forest was quiet, I realized. There was no sound of forest critters at all -- no birds, no fennecs running around in the underbrush, nor distant sounds of various woodland creatures like squirrels or rabbits. Even the air felt dead and stale without so much as a breeze to be found in the swamp.

Given all that I had heard from the various scouts returning to camp -- those that managed to return while unable to venture out as far as they did the day prior -- it was no surprise that we came across a band of darkspawn. However, it was a surprise when they dug up from the ground.

"Emissary!" Alistair shouted, spotting a genlock standing on top of a felled tree that had a number of humans hanging from it. He did something and for the first time, I witnessed a Templars abilities in person -- as the emissary thrust his staff at us, a bolt of mystical energy gathering, the air rippled between Alistair and the genlock. When the ripple hit the genlock, the gathering energy winked out before the darkspawn mage dropped to his knees, stunned. A second later, Theron let loose an arrow that found his throat while the rest of the band surged forward.

It was then, I decided, that I didn't at all care for fighting darkspawn up close and personal as a hurlock sprinted towards me with incredible speed. It was one thing to see it from afar, but up close, it really was startling -- darkspawn were fast. More than that, they were strong. Easily twice as fast and strong as they should be for their size, and the fact that the flight with a mindless, fearless, ferocity made a screaming hurlock in your face daunting.

The one before me wore armor stripped from a human, a recently dead one based on the blood, and wielded a longsword that it hacked and slashed at me with. Any confidence that I could take it down with magic went right out as the hurlock screamed at me in a broken and haunted voice. Almost instinctively, I cast Phantasmal Force upon the hurlock, creating the illusion that it had just been shot with an arrow, but the hurlock didn't care and kept swinging at me.

Switching tactics, I gave the illusion that I was going to attack from the left when I struck out at the right, catching the darkspawn in the neck and hacking his head clean off with a single swipe of the Keening Blade. The darkspawn fell, but there was little relief to be found when I found myself beset by a genlock that seemed to appear from nowhere. Pure dumb luck saved my life when the dagger he thrust into my side proved to be so rusted that it broke upon impact instead of skewering me. Reacting on instinct, I slashed at the creature's throat with Fang. He dodged back, but I slashed a deep gash across his arm. I went to finish the genlock off, only to have Alistair slam the edge of his kite shield into his head.

I saw exactly how much he had been holding back in our spars because the genlock's head split open like a cleaver through an apple. Dark blood dropped from his weapons and shield, the same for mine. Alistair looked at me through his helmet and offered a small curt nod.

"We're done now?" I asked him, crouching down near the hurlock I killed now that the fighting was over. Taking out a vial I was given, I filled it up with darkspawn blood. The leather gloves I wore protected my skin from the little bit that ran off the side before I corked the vial.

"No," Elissa stated, her voice firm. "These creatures are wearing my family's heraldry. My brother… he's on a scouting mission. We must find him," she decided, hefting her broadsword and marching forward, expecting us to follow

Alistair seemed to wince at that, "Well, we can try -- but Duncan also gave me a mission. There's an old outpost here dating back to the first Blight. We're to find it and see if it contains anything of value to our order." He informed us, sounding a bit sheepish. "And, before you ask -- no, I can't say what we're looking for beyond that it's related to secrets of our order."

Theron growled at that but didn't protest. I shrugged my shoulders, curious as to what these secrets could be. I followed along, silently wishing that there was an animal nearby I could ask for directions. Alistair had a map that he was following, but from the looks of it, the map was more of a vague heading than anything. I scanned the area for enemies and animals alike as we ventured deeper and deeper into the swamp, finding some evidence of a skirmish, but no signs of Elissa's brother.

I did, however, find a raven. It sat perched upon a branch, watching us as we made our way through the wilds. "I don't suppose you could give us directions?" I asked the bird, much to Alistair's grumbling that we weren't in any way lost. Then, under my breath, I repeated the same question, channeling magic to my voice and ears. Theron watched me carefully, knowing the spell it seemed, but to my relief, he said nothing.

The bird cocked its head at me but said nothing. It simply took off.

That was weird.

After the failed attempt to get directions, we traveled in silence as the sky began to darken, warning that nightfall was starting to near and being out in the wilds overnight started to look like a real possibility. It was then that Theron spotted a collapsed building so overgrown with moss and vines that I had completely dismissed it as part of the terrain. Alistair and Elissa ended up smashing through the rotting remains of a door and, for their efforts, what was left of the ruin just about collapsed on them.

"I think if there was anything of value here, it's long gone," I noted, eying the ruins that were completely reclaimed by nature. Alistair didn't respond as he started hacking at veins, finding a bookcase that was filled with books that had long since rotted away. He brushed off the remains, searching for a false bottom, and found nothing. Swallowing a sigh, I decided to join in on the search just to speed things along.

My time as a thief helped me find the hidden compartment, but there was something wrong with the scene when I found the false stone in a wall. The moss was clearly disturbed and it seemed like it was regrowing, but when I pulled the moss and then the false stone to the side, I saw a box inside. Grabbing it, I immediately detected a problem, but when I pulled it free, Alistair proved that he had been looking over my shoulder.

"Oh! You found it!" Alistair exclaimed, all but snatching the box from me to flip it open to reveal… that it was completely empty. A small amount of panic settled in on Alistair's face as he turned the chest upside down, shaking it in search of something other than dust and mildew.

"Awesome. So, we're stuck in the wilds for the night with darkspawn, but we have a neat box to show for it," I remarked lightly, earning a four look from both Alistair and Elissa.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for," Alistair sighed, tossing the box to the side and it crumbled to pieces upon impact. He looked at all of us, then at the dimming sky, "Let's head back now. It would have been nice to come back with-" Alistair started, only to be interrupted by a new voice.

"T'is a most curious thing," the four of us heard, snapping to attention to the source. A woman stepped out of the long shadows, clinging to what was left of a spiral staircase that no longer had a second story. "What could be such a tempting prize for vultures to pick over a long decrepit ruin?" The woman questioned, stepping into view.

As far as humans went, she was in the same category as Isabela when it came to never seeing a human woman quite like her. Her hair was pitch black but tied off. Around her neck was a gold and jeweled necklace that wouldn't look out of place on the Empress of Orlais. The color was the same as her eyes that I noticed were smudged with what looked like soot, her body barely covered by a cloth that hugged the center of her stomach tightly while the rest was looped over her shoulders. She wore a leather skirt that could be described as ragged and stitched together, and that was being generous.

Clutched in her hands was a staff that seemed to be carved from a gnarled root.

“We aren’t vultures! We’re Grey Wardens!” Alistair protested while Elissa bared her blade at the newcomer, her eyes narrowed into slits. “The fortress belongs to us, so it’s not stealing.”

The woman was unafraid of the bow and swords pointed in her direction and she proved it by letting out a mocking laugh, “T’is a ruin that has not been owned by anyone for more than a thousand years and whose bones have long since been picked clean. Grey Wardens you claim to be, yet I find myself most doubtful -- a half-dead dalish, a half-wit, a screeching noble, and a common elven criminal. Hardly what legends make you out to be.”

Elissa snarled, “A screeching noble?” She seethed, not at all happy with the remark.

“I’m not a half-wit,” Alistair protested. The woman clearly expected protests from Theron and I. I think Theron would have argued but he was sweating rivers and seemed to grow iller by the second. I, on the other hand, offered a small shrug.

“I would say I’m a bit more than a common criminal,” I remarked lightly, tilting my head to the side. While it was a bit of a leap to assume mage based on the staff, and given that it seemed fairly similar to Merrill's, I didn’t feel like the opinion was baseless. “And you seem awfully well informed for an apostate living out in the wilds. Darkspawn infested wilds.”

The woman smiled smugly at me, “I am well informed indeed.” She spoke and I could hear the words that she didn’t say. My eyes narrowed a fraction and her smile grew about as much, knowing that I got the message loud and clear -- somehow, she knew that I was a mage. And I had absolutely no clue how she knew. Could we just sense each other or something? Because I wasn’t getting anything from her. “Just as I know where your precious treaties are.”

“Treaties?” Elissa questioned, her tone sharp but the apostate ignored her.

“The not-so-common criminal -- A bargain I shall make with you,” the apostate decided, ignoring the humans. Elissa seemed indignant at best. It was evident that she wasn’t used to being ignored. “Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine,” she decided, tilting her head ever so slightly as she looked down on me.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Alistair remarked, his voice low. “An apostate living in the Korcari wilds? If she’s not a Chasind barbarian then she’s a Witch of the Wilds if I’ve ever seen one.”

Well-versed in magic I might not be, but I was confident that there was no harm in sharing my name. After all, there was a reason she chose to reveal herself. It couldn’t just be idle curiosity because if it was… then there wouldn’t be a need to watch us for however long she had. Long enough to know that I was a criminal, and that wasn’t something that had been mentioned in the Wilds. Meaning that she had been inside the king's camp.

“Azoth Surana, at your service,” I said, giving a deep and theatrical bow while my eyes never left hers. She seemed pleased with the gesture, amusement in her eyes.

“Quite a greeting indeed,” she decided, “I am Morrigan,” she mimed a curtsey. Elissa seemed unimpressed with it.

“Right, Morrigan,” Alistair spoke up. “If it's all the same to you, I’d really liked those treaties that you mentioned. Along with anything else you found the box,” he added, making it clear that he hoped that there would be something other than treaties inside. I wonder what that could be?

“I cannot,” Morrigan stated, her tone dismissive. She waited for Alistair to speak before she interrupted him, continuing with, “for t’was not I who took them. It was my mother who found your ruin and treasure.”

“Y-your mother?” Alistair questioned and it was then that Theron made himself known, a harsh growl escaping him as his face twisted into a deep scowl.

“Then take us to your mother so she can give us the damn treaties and I can get out of this swamp,” he demanded, glaring up at Morrigan, not at all pleased with the banter. I suppose I wouldn’t be either if I was dying.

Morrigan’s lips thinned ever so slightly, her gaze sliding to me. “It would be appreciated,” I smoothed things over, figuring that she took a liking to me. Mostly by default since I was the only one not openingly ready to strike her down. I was mostly curious about how she knew about me and how she found out.

“Very well then. Mother is already expecting you,” she informed and when we arrived at a hut in the middle of the woods…

I had no idea how true that was.