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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
- 16
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The Wardens' progress was impeded by four different bands of darkspawn on their march through the cliffs toward Ostagar that day, and the reality of what they would face when they arrived was finally beginning to sink in. There was at least another full day's march through the ridge before they reached the marshland surrounding the fortress, and another half day's trek to the crumbling ruin itself. It seemed the further south they traveled, the more aggressive and numerous their enemy grew.

Just after nightfall, Duncan found a small cave in the cliffside where they would bed down for the evening. The shelter wasn't cozy or warm by any means, but at least it was defensible and kept out the frigid wind blowing through the canyon. To prevent attracting unwanted attention, the Wardens' usual campfire was foregone in favor of several glowstones to light the inside of the grotto while they dined on their usual travel rations.

Sithig seemed to be taking it all in stride. He was a man who was obviously familiar with such primitive accommodations. Solona, on the other hand, appeared to be completely agitated. While the others ate their meager suppers, she paced near the entrance, throwing sidelong glares at Alistair every few steps.

The young warrior took his time in finishing his meal. He was certainly in no hurry to be reprimanded by the mage, especially when he wasn't sure what he did to raise her ire in the first place. Of course, the longer he stalled the impending scolding, the more cross she became. By the time Alistair finally approached Solona, she was fit to be tied.

"What in the Maker fuck took you so long?" she seethed.

Might as well get this over and done with.

"Did I do something wrong?" he questioned with a furrow of his brow. "Besides taking too long to eat, that is."

She heaved a perturbed sigh. "You promised to teach me to use a sword, remember? We're less than two days from Ostagar and you haven't done one thing to help me learn."

So that was it. She had remained practically glued to his side during every battle they had with the creatures that day, throwing lightening and an array of entropy spells at any hurlocks they encountered. The genlocks, which outnumbered their larger counterparts two to one, she left alone for Alistair to deal with. He thought the two of them made an effective team. She, on the other hand, apparently saw it differently.

"So, are you going to keep your word?" she continued after waiting for him to answer and not receiving a response right away. "Or am I going to be forced to brand you a liar?"

Alistair felt helpless to respond. He had every intention of teaching her, but he wasn't sure it was possible before they reached Ostagar. It wasn't exactly as if they had a lot of room to maneuver, and even if that weren't the case, the noise of clanging blades would surely garner any nearby enemies' attention. While he understood her concern, there was no way he could take that kind of chance with all of their lives.

"I wasn't lying to you, Solona," he explained. "I'll teach you if that's what you want, but this isn't exactly the best place to do it. Any sound we make will echo through this canyon. If the darkspawn hear it, they'll be on us like flies on shit. We might as well put out a big sign…assuming darkspawn can read, that is."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not an idiot, Alistair. I know how sound works. But I am a fairly talented mage, and I have ways of getting around that."

The warrior was genuinely curious. How in the Maker's name did one negate sound? He folded his arms across his broad chest.

"I'm listening."

"Why don't I just show you instead," she offered.

The mage closed her eyes and lifted her hands to the level of her chest. Her palms rotated outward as her fingers began to wiggle gently. Within moments, a large boulder near the entrance began to produce a low rumbling noise as it rose from the ground. It hovered a few inches in the air then slowly began moving toward the hole leading outside. A minute later, it settled back into the dirt in front of the doorway, covering the passage almost entirely, leaving only a few minuscule cracks for dim moonlight to seep through.

"Well, that should certainly help," he admitted. He still wasn't convinced the barricade would keep them from being heard.

"I'm not finished," she told him as she walked toward the rock.

With her finger, she traced a circle on the cavern wall around the outer edges of the boulder. As she worked, a series of complicated runes began glowing a faint green everywhere she touched. Alistair recognized it as a glyph of some sort, but he didn't know enough about the intricacies of magic to determine what it was used for. The only thing he recognized was the color, which denoted a spell of Creation.

When Solona was finished, she stepped back to admire her handiwork, but Alistair saw nothing but vague tracks in the dust. The mage shut her eyes again, and the former templar initiate felt the pull of the Fade surround her before directing the magic into the rock ahead. The cave was brightened by an eerie green radiance as the circle of runes she had drawn lit up, revealing the glyph in its entirety. After a few seconds, the incandescent symbol faded, leaving them in near darkness once more. He couldn't explain it, but the entire process fascinated Alistair.

"What was that?" he questioned.

She produced a smug grin. "A Glyph of Sealing," she replied. "It will prevent any sound from escaping the cave or entering it. It also seals the entrance from intruders. The only way anyone is getting through there is if they break that boulder. If that happens, we're in more trouble than the five of us can probably manage."

"But won't that make it a bit hard to breathe in here?" Alistair asked while tugging at the collar of his shirt. He was already struggling with being in such a confined space. The realization that the way out was obstructed and that their only air supply had been closed off was beginning to make him feel faint.

"Air can still be transported through the seal," she explained. "As well as light. Just not sound or any type of physical properties." Her grin widened. "Don't worry, I have no intention of killing you. Not yet, anyway."

He scowled. "That's certainly a comfort."

Ignoring his cynical retort, Solona strolled over to where the other two men were engaged in conversation and grabbed the spare sword Alistair normally stored in his rolled tent while they traveled. It was far more unwieldly than his normal blade and not nearly as sharp, but he kept it just in case his favored sword broke in combat. The mage then retrieved a handful of glowstones from her pack and placed them along the wall of the entrance for light. When her task was complete, she turned to the warrior with a curt nod and brandished the blade before him.

"There," she said. "All set. Now you have no more excuses. What's first?"

Alistair couldn't help but chuckle at seeing her standing there trying to maintain what she perceived to be a fighting stance, gripping the handle of a sword she could barely hold. Waggling his head, he removed his own blade from its sheath then walked around to her right side.

"First of all," he told her as he removed the clunky weapon from her hand and replaced it with the more suitable one. "You'll never be able to learn anything with that piece of shit. The balance is all wrong, and you'll just end up with it planted in the ground if you're lucky, your toe if you're not."

He tossed the spare blade to the side then shifted her grip on the one in her hand so that sides of her index finger and thumb were against the guard. "Always hold it like this, close to the guard. It'll give you better control over your swings."

"That is a bit easier," she admitted as she made a slash to the air, but the movement made her wince. "Maker fuck!" she cursed. "It doesn't feel as if I'm going to drop it anymore while I'm just holding it, but this thing at the end hurts like a bloody bitch when it slams into your wrist."

"It's called a pommel," he explained while stifling a laugh. He recalled making the same mistake the first time a sword was put in his hand. The difference was, he dropped the blade when it happened to him. Knight Commander Glavin had been less than pleased with that response. The old templar made him repeat the movement so many times the boy thought his arm would fall off before Glavin finally taught him the proper way to grip the hilt.

Alistair intended to be a bit more understanding when instructing Solona. After placing his right hand over hers, he moved around behind her and pulled the weapon closer to her body. His breathing became labored as he drew her into him. He closed his eyes in an effort to calm his respirations as he wrapped his left arm around her lower bicep and grasped the half of the sword's guard which pointed toward the ground. He could feel the heavy rise and fall of her chest above his arms, prompting him to wonder if it was caused by pain or perhaps…No. He couldn't allow himself to consider such things, especially not while trying to teach her something so important.

Forget it, jackass. She's way out of your league. You know it. She knows it. So move on.

"If you tighten your entire hand around it," Alistair continued with his cheek pressed against hers. "The pommel will continue to dig into your wrist and your whole arm will go numb with pain after a while." He applied pressure to her second and third fingers. "But, if you keep the core of your grip with your two middle fingers and use the other two for balance…" He tugged on the guard enough to demonstrate the movement which allowed the pommel to move past the side of her wrist and slide across its center. "You'll find it easier to maneuver and you'll keep your arm from turning a lovely shade of black and blue."

Solona turned her face until their lips nearly touched. It would have only taken the tiniest advance to press his mouth to hers. Alistair's breath quickened as he mustered every ounce of fortitude he possessed not to close the gap and kiss her. He licked his lips, barely missing hers with his tongue.

"So," she whispered. "A bit like holding onto a cock while polishing the lamppost?"

The warrior's lids fluttered in genuine shock while her expression remained calm as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary. He felt a familiar stirring in his smalls when the image of his manhood parting her full lips invaded his brain. He jerked his head back and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Polished a lot of lampposts, have you?" he questioned with the arch of a brow.

"More than my fair share, I expect," she replied with a sly grin.

Alistair considered the meaning behind her words. He had expected her to answer with something like, "one or two" or "possibly ", not, "More than my fair share." Outside of prostitutes, most women would never admit to such a thing. He didn't think any less of her for it, of course. He always thought the double-standard when it came to the sexuality of men versus women was ridiculous. It did denote something very important, however. She was obviously experienced and had been with several experienced men. He was a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to convince her to begin a romantic relationship with him, she would never tolerate his sexual ignorance.

"That's…" he hesitated as he tried to think of an appropriate response while maintaining an unaffected expression. He ran his tongue across his lips. "Interesting."

Once again, he realized he said the completely wrong thing. Her smile faded as soon as the word left his mouth. She took a deep breath as she donned the façade of indifference she wore so well when attempting to hide her emotions. Her eyes, however, betrayed the truth she tried to disguise.

Way to go, jackass.

The warrior cleared his throat and pulled his pelvis back a few inches, praying she didn't feel the effect of her words.

Thank the Maker for armored tunics.

"Anyway," he resumed as he repositioned his hands. "The thing you want to remember is to keep your grip supple. It will make the blade come alive in your hand. You may even want to think of the pommel as a sort of fulcrum which the sword pivots around during the cut."

When she nodded to indicate she understood his explanation, he moved on. "A sword doesn't deliver its damage as it hits the target, but as it passes through." He moved the weapon around to demonstrate his impending statement. "It's all in the line that slants across and through the target and guiding the blade as freely and as quickly as possible along that imagined line.

"You'll cut best when you don't think too much about the target, but more about how the sword arcs through the space around you. Pick your target, picture a straight line through it, then guide the blade along that line as quickly and accurately as you can. As long as your grip remains agile, your attack should be effortless."

Solona stepped away from him and began slicing the air. "Like this?"

Alistair was actually impressed. While her swings weren't perfect, she seemed to have a good grasp on the subject at hand. With a little practice, she had the potential to be quite good. She was certainly doing better than he had with his first lesson.

For the next few hours, he showed her how to fade and lunge, advance and retreat, shed and thrust, pivot and step across, and most importantly, to him anyway, every guard position in his repertoire. When Solona told him she was too sore and tired to go on, they made their way to their respective bedrolls. Without even a moment's hesitation, the mage stripped off her boots and trousers. She didn't even turn around, which gave him a good view of the fact that she didn't wear smallclothes. His face flushed with embarrassment as he circled to remove his armor. By the time he placed his uniform on the ground, Solona was already tucked into her sleep sack, leaving Alistair to thank the Maker for small favors.

The other two Wardens were fast asleep before he and the mage decided to call it quits for the evening. Alistair wondered how the men could have possibly slept through all the clanging and clattering he and Solona were making until he noticed how loud Sithig's snores were as they reverberated off the cavern walls. After several minutes, Solona finally rolled over to face Alistair.

"How in the bloody void are we supposed to sleep with that infernal racket?"

The young Warden shook his head. "I don't know. It sounds like a wounded bronto with a head cold."

She laughed. "I don't think that entire band of darkspawn we fought just before nightfall made as much noise."

"At least that sound was more pleasant," he countered. "I'm seriously considering taking my chances outside."

The mage shivered. "It's a bit too cold out there for my tastes." She scowled as she peered around the chamber. "Actually, it's a bit too cold in here for my tastes, too."

Before Alistair realized what was happening, Solona stood up, grabbed her bedroll, and placed it next to his on the ground. When she lay down next to him and curled up to his body with her back against his chest, he thought he might have a heart attack. She then took hold of his hand and encircled her waist with his arm. He could feel her bare breast beneath the thin linen shirt with his forerm, and his manhood began to enlarge again.

"Do you mind?" she asked. "I'm freezing and this way we can generate some body heat."

He recalled the last time he slept next to her like that and the reaction she had, prompting him to shift his body where she wouldn't feel his erection pressing against her. It was uncomfortable as the void, but it was better than incurring Solona's wrath. She smiled at him over her shoulder.

"In the winter months, it would get so cold in the tower that Jowan and I would do this all the time."

"Jowan?" he questioned.

Probably another boyfriend.

"My best friend," she explained. "From the time I was five." She grimaced. "And no, it wasn't like that. We were just really close friends."

As he bobbed his head in understanding, Alistair couldn't help but wonder if Jowan ever found himself in the predicament he was in. Between Sithig's snoring and his raging erection, he was fairly certain he wouldn't be getting any sleep that night. After a while, when the mage's breathing evened out and Alistair was sure she was asleep, he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, Solona," he whispered.

Her lips curled into a faint smile before softly murmuring, "Goodnight, Alistair."

Alistair was obviously a good teacher. By the time I met Solona only a few weeks later, she was wielding a sword as if she had been doing so all her life. Not surprising, really. Alistair was the best swordsman I have ever met. I wonder sometimes what would have happened if those two would have just kissed that night. Of course, if that happened, things between all of us may have turned out a lot differently.

-G
- 16
- 17
- 18
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight