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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight	By : Serena_Hawke-Theirin Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 13108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
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Three days out of Wenborne, Solona was walking normally again. Between the new boots, the bandages, the healing potions and the salve, her feet were nearly completely healed and she was leading the group at a faster pace than ever. She knew she should have thanked Alistair properly, but her pride wouldn't allow it. Instead, she spent that entire leg of their journey avoiding the young Warden.

When they stopped to make camp that evening, Duncan cautioned them all to be on the lookout for darkspawn stragglers since they were nearing Ostagar and the bulk of the horde. He warned Alistair to be especially mindful while he and Solona were gathering wood for the fire in the nearby forest. Solona was less than happy about being sent on the errand with Alistair, but she didn't let her reservations be known.

While she recovered from her injuries, the commander sent Daveth and Jory out with a glowstone to complete that task. She supposed it was only fair that she help with the labor now that she was recovered, but why did it have to be with Alistair? It wasn't that she didn't like him or that she wasn't grateful for all the help he had given her. Her biggest problem with the young warrior was that he had this way of looking past all her bullshit, her carefully crafted façade of cold indifference. No matter what she did or said, no matter how badly she treated him, he was still kind, with no expectation of gratitude or reward. She had never met anyone like him before and it frightened her a bit.

Unlike the previous time they had to perform that same task, Solona made sure to stay close to Alistair so he could see what he was doing by the magical light in her palm. The entire time they combed the forest, she braced herself for the conversation she knew he would start at any moment, but he remained silent. In fact, he hadn't spoken to her at all since the night they stayed in Wenborne. Was he angry that she never offered him her gratitude? Perhaps he wasn't as different as she thought after all.

By the time they got back to camp, the mage was in a foul mood. She was actually angry that Alistair hadn't talked to her. She couldn't believe he had the gall to just ignore her in that manner. How dare he?

Solona waited for the fire to be started then stomped off to her tent to eat her supper of hardtack and dried pork alone as usual. Nobody followed her or asked her to join them. None of them cared about her, but, then again, why would they? She had certainly done her best to ostracize everyone since joining the small band of Grey Wardens and their recruits.

She wondered if it was going to be that way from then on. In the tower, even when Anders wasn't around, even when she was without companionship from anyone else, she still had Jowan. There was always someone there for her. Now, it seemed she had no one. Was she simply destined to be alone for the remainder of her life?

The mage took a few nibbles of the tack before wrapping it back in its cloth and returning it to her pack. As ravenous as she had been when they made camp, she found that her appetite had suddenly left her entirely. Nausea had replaced hunger as tears began to well up in her eyes.

The mage lay down on her side and closed her eyes to shut out the rest of the world and to stop the flow of tears that threatened to fall. An image of the man she left behind in the tower appeared in the darkness of her closed lids. She pictured his warm amber eyes, his rakish grin, and the way the mass of his curls draped over his shoulders.

Anders.

No. She couldn't think about him. It was too painful. Solona waggled her head to shake her memories of the healer away. She had to think of something else, anything else. She concentrated, willing the thoughts of her former lover from her mind.

Her fingers gripped the amulet nestled between her breasts. She rubbed the flat of her thumb over the tiny sword and flames, and her senses began to calm. The picture of Anders was replaced by Cullen's gentle brown eyes staring adoringly into hers. His lips curved into an affectionate smile as he reached out to caress her cheek with thick, calloused fingers.

She must have drifted off then, because she remembered nothing until she was awoken by the sound of her tent rustling all around her.

"Solona," she heard Alistair's frantic whisper. "Solona! Wake up! It's the darkspawn. We're about to be attacked."

The mage scrambled to her feet with the aid of her staff lying next to her. Fortunately, because she had gone to sleep before she had intended, she was still wearing her boots. She rushed from the tent with stave in hand, ready to do battle.

Alistair was waiting nearby, just outside the glow of the fire. She approached his position and stood next to him. It was then that she noticed Duncan and the other two men a few feet away. The commander gave the younger Warden a nod.

"You know what to do Alistair," he said as he tossed a couple of empty vials to the young man. "They are going to attack us either way, so we may as well use it to our advantage. I'll take Jory with me to the other side of the camp. You and the others clear out this side of the forest. By my estimation, there are six of them. Do your best to protect your charges, but make sure each of them kills at least one of the beasts themselves. And make sure you collect the samples we'll need."

Alistair clapped a fist to his heart. "Of course, Commander."

The younger Warden dropped the small bottles into a pouch at his waist before pulling his sword from its sheath. He ran his tongue across his lips and indicated to the direction of the forest with the tip of his blade.

"Over there," he whispered. "Solona, you stay to my left and a little behind. Daveth, you're on my right. Move quickly and quietly and keep your eyes open. These things will show no mercy, so when we find them, give them everything you've got."

"Wouldn't it be better to take them by surprise?" Daveth questioned. "Use a little stealth?"

"As a Warden, I might be able to surprise them," Alistair explained. "But they'll smell you coming from a mile away."

"He is rather ripe, isn't he?" Solona said as she waved her hand in front of her nose and grimaced.

"Your shit isn't exactly fresh there, sweetheart," the thief retorted.

As the mage glared at the man, Alistair stepped between them and waggled his head. "Hello? Darkspawn. Remember? Maybe we should take care of that problem first. Before the two of you come to blows."

Daveth pulled the iron daggers from his belt and brandished them at his sides. "Whatever you say, boss." He made a rude gesture with his tongue at Solona. "I'll take care of you later, beautiful."

Solona arched a haughty brow. "I would rather fuck myself with Alistair's sword than allow you to lay one finger on me."

"That sounds like fun," Daveth retaliated. "Can I watch?"

Alistair, who had apparently had enough of the thief's behavior, shoved Daveth forward with his shield. "Just get moving, asshole," he ordered.

Daveth stumbled forward then sneered at Alistair and Solona over his shoulder. Without waiting for the other two to catch up, the thief made his way around the tents and into the tree line. Just as the mage and the Warden were about to step into the glade, a tremendous roar echoed through the woods.

"Holy fuck," Alistair swore before grabbing Solona around the waist and pulling her to the ground.

A second later, Daveth's body went hurtling through the air right where the mage had been standing and landed with a thud on the ground behind them. The sound of twigs and branches being broken by heavy footfalls snapped just yards ahead of them.

"Come on," Alistair hissed. He dropped his shield and grabbed her by the hand to pull her behind a nearby boulder.

"Aren't you going to need that?" she questioned in a whisper once they were safely behind the large rock.

His eyes narrowed as they fixated on the spot from where the noise had come. "Maybe not." His brow creased, but his eyes remained settled on the tree line. "Do you remember what you did to that deer back at Lake Calenhad?"

"Of course," she replied. "The sleeping spell."

"Can you do that to more than one thing at a time?"

"It will take a bit more concentration, but I believe I can," she said. "But they have to be close together."

"Okay," he told her. "Ready your spell. As soon as I tell you, release it."

Solona bobbed her head in response and began calling forth her mana. She knew it was possible for the spell to affect more than one enemy at a time in theory, but she had never actually tested it before. She focused on the incantation she needed as the branches of the nearby trees began to rustle and give way to whatever was attempting to clear a path through them.

The mage gasped when she saw the first creature lurch into the clearing. Although much shorter than a man, the thing was monstrous. The creature's skin reflected pale yellow in the moonlight, and its large ears came to points at the side of its head like an elf's. The thing seemed to wear a permanent wicked grin full of razor sharp teeth upon its skeletal face. The one-handed, double-bladed battle axe it carried was fashioned from heavy iron and crudely made, most likely forged within the Deep Roads.

Solona panicked. She could feel her hold on the sleeping spell slipping away. The beast was a genlock. She knew it from the books she had read about the darkspawn in the First Enchanter's private library. The crude drawings in those texts could have never prepared her for how grotesque the creatures actually were. Very little had been written about those particular spawn, but one thing the mage knew for certain was that her spells would have little to no effect on them.

She felt a hand shaking her arm. She turned her head to look at the source and met Alistair's hazel green eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked in a low voice. "You're as white as a sheet."

"I…I can't," she mumbled.

He cupped her chin in his fingertips. "What happened to that confident, overbearing mage I've come to know and love? Hmm?" Her eyes began to sting with tears as he held her gaze. "Don't worry. I'll take care of the genlock. You just concentrate on taking out his two buddies. Alright?"

Solona peered over at the squat darkspawn out of the corner of her eye. Standing near it were two hurlocks. As hideous as the genlock had been, it was nothing compared to its taller counterparts. They looked like men, dead men who had been transformed and twisted by something horrifying and evil.

Alistair gently tugged her face to garner her attention again. "Come on, you're not about to let me show you up are you?" The space between her brows disappeared as she continued to stare into those hazel orbs. "Hey, you got this."

She nodded as she pulled away from the grasp of his fingers. While genlocks were well known for being resistant to magic, hurlocks were not. He was right. She could definitely do this. She closed her lids and called on her mana again as her hands lifted to the level of her shoulders. The sounds of the darkspawn's grunting and the clashing of the hurlocks' swords against their shields disappeared as she focused on the incantation running through her mind. With one long, slow, exhaling breath, she opened her eyes and released the spell into the air surrounding the creatures.

The larger two beasts collapsed to the ground, leaving the shortest of the three to scan his surroundings to find the source of the spell. About the time it caught sight of the two humans hiding nearby, Alistair leapt up and cleared the boulder with a single, fluid motion.

He rushed toward the creature, grabbing his shield as he ran by it. Using the entire weight of his body, the warrior crashed into the genlock and knocked it to the ground. Before it could pick itself up from the dirt, Alistair's sword was in the air. He plunged it into the beast's gullet and gave a quick twist of the grip. Within a flash, he repeated the process with the hurlock to his right before waving Solona over.

She rushed to his side only to have him shove his longsword into her hand. "You get the last one," he panted.

The mage waggled her head as she looked down at the weapon in her hand. "What in the Maker's name am I supposed to do with this?"

He aimed his index finger at the sword. "Well, you take the pointy end of that." He then directed her attention to the sleeping creature on the ground. "And you stick it into that. Might I suggest you find an area not covered in armor? That shit tends to really dull my blade."

Solona stood over the beast, intending to plunge the sword into its throat, but the weapon was a bit heavier and more awkward than she imagined. Instead of landing in the center of the hurlock's neck, the blade veered upward and went through the middle of its face, right where its nose should have been.

Its eyes flew open and it let out a guttural cry as it struggled against the sword buried in its skull. Solona focused her mana and allowed a bolt of lightning to move from her hand, down the sword, and into the hole she had created. The beast thrashed and jerked as electricity surged through its body. Smoke and the stench of rotting, burning meat rose up from the creature as it gurgled its final breath. When the smell hit Solona's nose, she released the handle of the blade, turned her head and vomited.

"You alright?" Alistair questioned, his words muffled by the hand over his nose and mouth.

The mage managed a nod before heaving again. She wiped away the vomit on her chin with the back of her hand then covered her nose with her forearm. The smell was revolting, but she wasn't sure if the churning in her gut was from that or from the fact that she had killed the creature. Although the thing was a monstrous beast that she knew couldn't be allowed to live, the fact that she had taken a life weighed heavily on her mind. She had never killed anything before, and for some unfathomable reason, it really bothered her.

"It gets easier," Alistair told her. "The first one is always the most difficult." His scowl deepened. "Interesting smell you created, by the way."

"Sorry," she mumbled against her sleeve.

"We should probably find Duncan," the warrior proposed. "He might need our help."

"Yes," Solona agreed. "The sooner we get away from here, the better."

Alistair yanked his sword free from the creature, swiped both sides of his blade across its arm and drove it into the scabbard at his waist. He then spun on the balls of his feet and started to head back toward camp, but stopped in mid stride and snapped his fingers.

"Damn!" he cursed as he reached into the small pouch on his belt and pulled out the vials the commander had given him earlier. "Almost forgot."

He knelt down next to the hurlock Solona had dispatched and scooped up some of the dark blood that had escaped from its nostrils and was still in its original liquid form. "I hope it's enough. You fried this thing pretty good."

The mage tilted her head, her expression thoughtful and questioning. "Why do you want that? Are you starting some sort of macabre collection or something?"

"Hardly," the Warden chuckled. "It's for the Joining Ritual."

"Joining Ritual?" she queried. "What in the Void is a Joining Ritual?"

Alistair licked his lips and gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry. I can't tell you."

Solona scowled. "What do you mean you can't tell me?"

His right shoulder slowly lifted then fell while his expression turned both thoughtful and sympathetic "It's not that I don't want to. I just can't. It's part of the whole Grey Warden thing. We all have to go through it before we can become Wardens."

Solona pursed her lips in frustration. Apparently the Joining Ritual was a lot like the Harrowing. Just as secretive and, if the look on Alistair's face was any indication, just as deadly. It was the same look Anders had given her when she would ask him what was involved in the final test to become a mage. She only hoped that she hadn't survived one test just to have her life taken by another.

"We should probably get back," she suggested.

He smiled and gave a nod, obviously relieved that she wasn't going to push the subject any further. As they walked toward the camp, they came to Daveth's body. The thief's face was twisted in horror, his green eyes still wide with shock. Streams of coagulated blood made heavy lines from his nose and crossed his cheeks.

Alistair knelt down next to the body and grabbed the thief's shoulders before gazing up at Solona. "Would you mind giving me a hand?" he requested.

"Sure…I guess," she replied. "What do you want me to do?"

"Grab his feet and help me haul him back," he told her as he struggled to stand while maintaining his hold on Daveth's body.

Solona did as the Warden asked. When she touched the skin of his leg, she was surprised by how cold it was. Not even an hour before, she had seriously wanted the man dead, but not like that. As apathetic as she was most of the time and as much as she had grown to despise Daveth, she wouldn't have wished such a fate on anyone.

It was a bit of an ordeal, but the two of them managed to get the body back to camp without losing their grip on it. When they arrived, Duncan and Jory were already waiting for them, along with a man Solona had never seen before. Actually, the new arrival seemed more mountain than human.

He was much taller than Anders, at least seven feet, maybe more. But it wasn't just his height, his entire body was huge with extremely wide shoulders and a broad chest. His arms looked to be the size of the trunk of a birch tree. He shifted the huge battle axe he carried across his shoulder causing his muscular bicep to bulge out even further.

The bangs of his long, greasy blonde hair were tied back while the rest was left to fall across the fur pauldrons about his shoulders. He wore no other covering on the top half of his body, save the fur vambraces on his forearms. His legs were clothed in pants fashioned from thick, diamond-shaped pieces of heavy leather that had been stitched together. Over his calves and ankles to just past his knees were a pair of greaves made of the same fur as his pauldrons. A wide leather cord snaked around them to hold them in place.

He turned toward Alistair and Solona, and the mage was surprised to find that he was actually quite handsome. The lower half of his face was veiled by heavy scruff, not quite long enough for a beard. His eyes shone bright blue in the light of the campfire, and under his left were three thin red stripes, each measuring about an inch long.

Alistair stopped near the tent closest to the fire and lowered the top half of Daveth's body to the ground. The mage followed his lead by gently settling the thief's legs down. The young Warden frowned with dismay as he dusted off his hands on the front side of his trousers. Duncan approached and took a knee at his young protégé's left side.

"I take it things didn't go as expected," the commander observed.

Alistair heaved a sigh before turning his eyes to the older man. "I'm sorry, Duncan. He ran off on his own. I suppose I should have…"

The commander shook his head. "Sometimes people behave foolishly, Alistair, and there is nothing we can do to protect them from themselves. If Daveth was reckless, the fault of his death is his own, not yours."

The expression on the young warrior's face told Solona that those words had been of little comfort. He shrugged. "I guess I understand."

Duncan clapped Alistair on the shoulder. "Come, there is someone I would like you to meet."

"What about him?" the younger man asked, pointing to the body lying on the ground.

The commander's dark eyes narrowed as he stared into Alistair's. There was something in that exchange that conveyed a message Solona and the others were not meant to hear. A secret passed between only the two Grey Wardens.

"We will administrate the pyre," he said, his gaze even more intent. "After the Joining is complete."

After that night, Solona decided that she needed to begin training with a sword. At least she got better. As far as I know, she never skewered anything through the nose again. Actually, by the time I met her, she had stopped using a staff completely. I suppose being faced with numerous darkspawn who were nearly completely resistant to magic would cause anyone to make that decision.

As for Alistair, Daveth's death hit him pretty hard. Although he didn't exactly like the man, my husband still felt responsible for his demise. It was the reason he became reluctant to take command during the remainder of the Blight. Alistair Theirin was certainly never a coward, he just lost his self-confidence for a while.

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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight