_________
The Tower stood on an island in Lake Calenhad. There had once been a bridge off of the island, and the ruins of it still stood, but it had been collapsed long ago. In order to leave the island, they had to take a boat across the lake.
Kitranna had never been on a boat before, even a small one such as this, across even a short distance. She gripped the sides tightly, not sure if she liked it.
They landed on the opposite shore, the Templar who rowed them across giving Duncan a dark look before leaving.
Duncan was a decent traveling companion, as far as Kitranna knew. She had no means by which to judge these things. She was astounded by the novelty of traveling; even such things like the open sky overhead were new to her. She almost expected to fall off the world.
She cut her hair the third day of travel. Her hair was long, reaching the middle of her back, thick and heavy. She had frequently used it to avoid the gaze of Templars back in the tower, but now it had no such use, and kept getting in the way.
So, she borrowed Duncan's knife and cut it all off, hacking it as close to her scalp as she could manage with only a knife.
Duncan hardly made note of so drastic a change other than to raise his eyebrows.
They didn't run into much trouble on the road. Kitranna wasn't sure what to expect—bandits, highwaymen, wild beasts, perhaps Templars coming to drag them back—but she saw none of these things.
“Most will not attack a Gray Warden,” Duncan explained when she asked.
“But what if they can't tell you're a Warden?” she asked. “Don't you just look like a man in armor?”
“Most of those who prey on travelers are looking for targets who would be easy to take advantage of. Highwaymen and bandits aren't usually willing to attack men in armor.”
People stared at her when they stopped in villages. She wasn't sure if it was because she was an elf, or a mage, or simply because she was traveling with such a heavily armed and armored human, but either way it made the back of her neck itch.
Duncan regularly sent letters and reports ahead of them to Ostagar, to keep the Wardens informed of their progress. Kitranna read a few of these reports, but none of them were very interesting.
It took them several weeks to get to Ostagar. Duncan explained to her that Ostagar itself was an enormous ruin, a fortress that had been used against the wilder folk of the Korcari Wilds. Now, they used it as a base by which to fight back against the Darkspawn.
Someone was already there to greet them when they arrived.
“Ho there, Duncan!”
A blonde human man in gleaming plate armor approached them. He was a few inches shorter than Duncan, but built more broadly.
“King Cailan?” Duncan raised his eyebrows, surprised. “I didn't expect...”
“A royal welcome?” Cailan grinned and clapped Duncan on the shoulder. “I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun.”
“Not if I could help it, your Majesty.”
“Then I'll have the mighty Duncan by my side after all. Glorious.” Cailan looked at Kitranna. “The other Wardens told me you found a promising recruit. I take it this is she?”
“Allow me to introduce you, Majesty,” Duncan said.
“There's no need to be so formal, Duncan,” Cailan said, tossing another careless smile in Kitranna's direction. “We'll be shedding blood together soon enough, I'm sure. Ho there, friend! Might I know your name?”
“Kitranna Surana.” she told him. “...Majesty?” she added, after Duncan glanced at her with raised eyebrows.
“Pleased to meet you!” he either didn't notice the slip with his honorific or didn't care. “The Gray Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them. I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?”
“I hope so—I don't think I'd be much help if I didn't.”
Cailan laughed. “I'm sorry to cut this short,” he said. “But Loghain needs to see me,” he rolled his eyes. “Surely we need to discuss more battle strategies.”
“Loghain is merely being cautious, your Majesty,” Duncan pointed out.
Cailan sighed. “We've won three battles with these creatures and tomorrow will be no different,” he said. “This strategizing is desperately dull—here's hoping the battle will be more exciting.”
He gave them one last grin and left.
“He's confident,” Kitranna pointed out, watching him go. “That's good, right?”
“Mm,” Duncan grunted. “We have won the last several confrontations with the darkspawn.”
Kitranna frowned. “You don't sound too convinced.”
“A true Blight would be catastrophic,” he said. “Even if we drove the darkspawn back, a Blight would certainly wreak havoc on the area. Cailan wants for glory, but I am not sure his confidence is well-placed.”
They followed Cailan's path into the ruins, and came to a bridge that crossed over into the main camp.
“I should meet with Loghain and Cailan as well,” Duncan said, facing her. “We have several other Warden recruits joining us, as well as one of our number who is overseeing your Joining. Look for Alistair, a human man who wields a blade.”
Kitranna nodded, and they parted.
The camp was loud and crowded, filled with many different warriors from a variety of different places. Kitranna honestly had no idea where to even begin looking for Alistair.
She passed by a few tents that were flanked by Templars and made a face. Her immediate instinct was to hunch her shoulders and scurry past, but then she clenched her fists.
She was a Warden recruit. They couldn't do anything to her--at least, not without incurring a great deal of unwanted attention. She walked past them holding her back straight.
Going by the tents, she spotted a mage she knew. An older woman hovered several yards away from a Templar, looking over her mages' staff. She had short white hair pulled back into a ponytail, and wore a red robe.
“Enchanter Wynne!” Kitranna exclaimed. The woman looked up.
“Apprentice,” Wynne smiled, and set the staff down. “Oh—no, you are an Enchanter as well now, are you not?”
Kitranna nodded. “I did my Harrowing soon after you left.”
“I didn't realize Gregoire was still allowing mages out of the Tower,” Wynne said. “Much less someone who has only recently passed their Harrowing...”
“I came with Duncan,” Kitranna explained. “The Gray Warden.”
Wynne raised her eyebrows. “You are a Warden recruit?”
Kitranna nodded.
“My word, that's a great honor,” Wynne said, sounding impressed. “Why did he choose you?”
“I--” Kitranna opened her mouth, then paused. “I'm not sure,” she said. She wasn't sure if it would be a good idea to relay the entire tale to Wynne. She was a pleasant enough woman, but her loyalty lay more with the Circle than with her fellow mages inside it. “He said I was...loyal. Don't know what convinced him, really.”
Wynne furrowed her brow. “Well, I offer you the best of luck,” she said.
“Well—actually, I could use a bit more than luck right now,” she said. I'm looking for a Warden named Alistair,” Kitranna said. “He's a human man with a sword. Do you know anyone like that?”
Wynne chuckled. “I know quite a large number of people like that,” she said.
“Anyone specifically named Alistair?” Kitranna pressed. “A Warden?”
Wynne shook her head. “I'm sorry, I've been busy here,” she said. “I did run into one of the other Warden-recruits, a man named Daveth,” she pointed towards one of the ruined buildings. “He went in that direction. Perhaps you will find Alistair there.”
“Thanks.”
She left Wynne and wandered around the camp some more. She walked past a smith, a Chantry Mother leading a sermon, and a makeshift infirmary and still found no one who seemed like Alistair.
She came across a kennel and aided the man in charge with a sick dog. He told her that if she was going out to the Wilds anytime soon, to keep an eye out for a particular kind of flower, one that might help the dog recover.
Eventually, in one of the more intact ruins, she came across a human man and a man in Circle robes arguing with each other.
“Jeffers?” Kitranna exclaimed, recognizing the man in robes.
The mage stopped and turned to her, squinted for a moment, then gasped. “Surana? What are you doing here?”
“I came with Duncan, one of the Gray Wardens,” she said. They both turned away from the other man, towards each other. “When did you get here? I thought you'd gone to another Circle.”
“Weeks ago,” he said. “I came with Uldred—did you really come with the Warden? You're still an apprentice, aren't you? What in the name of the Maker was Irving thinking--”
“I had my Harrowing,” Kitranna assured him.
“But you're still so young--”
“Wynne seemed to be fine with me being here,” Kitranna said, folding her arms.
“Excuse me,” the man in armor said, cutting between them. “You came with Duncan?” he asked Kitranna.
“Yeah...”
“Oh, then you must be the new recruit!” he exclaimed. “Sorry, I should have recognized you.”
“Are you Alistair?” she asked.
“That's me.”
“I've been looking all over the camp for you,” she said. “Duncan told me to find you.”
“So, you were meant to be meeting with her when you were bothering me?” Jeffers demanded of Alistair.
“I didn't know she was here,” Alistair said, but Jeffers huffed a sigh.
“You,” Jeffers said, pointing at Kitranna. “Look out for yourself, alright? Be careful.”
“I will be.” she assured him.
“Good.” Jeffers turned back to Alistair. “I will speak to the Revered Mother if I must,” he growled, and left them.
“You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” Alistair said.
“It's not like you were being much help,” Kitranna said.
Alistair rubbed the back of his head. “So...you're the recruit from the Circle?”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry, if he was a friend of yours...but none of the mages like the Wardens very much, you see, we don't get along very well.”
“Right.” Kitranna folded her arms.
“Well...allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alistair, the newest Gray Warden—but I expect you know that already.”
“Kitranna Surana.”
“Right, well, as the junior member of the Order, I'll be accompanying you as you prepare for the Joining,” he explained.
“Why can't I prepare on my own? Duncan never explained how the Joining works.”
“Can't tell you,” Alistair said. “Joining's a secret. Duncan will explain more, but as for me, I can't tell you anything.”
Kitranna rolled her eyes. More secret rituals—lovely.
“The last secret ritual I did had me fight a demon,” she told him.
He blinked. “Why did you fight a demon?”
“Can't tell you that. It's a secret and all. I just want to know, am I going to fight a demon or not?”
He considered for a moment. “...No, probably not.”
"Oh. Well, it can't be all bad, then, can it?”
Alistair raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn't be so sure.” he rubbed the back of his head. “Well, now I need to round up the other two, and we can get started.”
They found the other two recruits, Ser Jory and Daveth, and went to meet up with Duncan. Daveth kept staring at Kitranna, his eyes shifting from her ears to her staff, but he said nothing.
“So, what are we doing?” Daveth asked once they were all together. They had all gathered by an enormous pyre near the edge of camp.
Duncan explained that they were to go out to the Wilds and retrieve three vials of Darkspawn blood, one for each recruit. Afterwards, they were to go and find old documents that were housed in a locked chest in a ruin.
“What is the blood for?” Jory asked.
“It is necessary for the Joining,” Duncan said. “Any more than that I cannot tell you.”
“It isn't blood magic, is it?” Jory said, frowning.
“Even if it was, it would not matter, for we are not beholden by the laws of the Chantry.” Duncan explained. “Whether it is blood magic or not, what we do is necessary for the good of all people.”
Jory and Daveth glanced at each other, then at Kitranna, who didn't look at them. To her, it sounded like the Joining would technically involve blood magic, but it wasn't a particular concern for her. She was reasonably sure they weren't going to sacrifice a baby or anything.
With Alistair, they left for the Wilds. Duncan was to stay behind and continue meeting with the King and his generals, to discuss what would happen in the battle tomorrow.
So, the four of them set off, and left the safety of the camp for the Wilds. Kitranna kept on the lookout for the flower the master of the kennel had requested.
The Wilds were swampy, damp, and immediately there was the coppery smell of blood on the wind, although no one could identify where it came from. It put them all on edge. There were ruins half-sunken in the swamp, enormous stone buildings of ages long past.
“Who left all these buildings?” Jory asked, staring at one as they walked by.
“Ostagar is a Tevinter ruin,” Kitranna said.
“Tevinters, this far south?” Daveth said.
“It's true,” said Alistair. “Centuries ago, but yeah, the Tevinters came this far south. I hear there's some elvhen and dwarf ruins around here too, but I don't know much about them.”
“Elvhen ruins?” Daveth snorted. “Since when did the elves leave ruins? This isn't Dalish country.”
“There's lots of elvhen ruins,” Kitranna said. “Just no elvhen roads.”
“Why's that?”
“I don't know,” Kitranna admitted. “That's just what the history books I've read told me. There's lots of isolated elvhen ruins, all over the continent, but there's no roads connecting them like there are with the dwarf ruins.”
“I didn't know any elves built anything, except for the Dalish, of course,” Jory said. “And even then they're not exactly builders, are they?”
“The elvhen lived here before humans did,” Kitranna said. “Didn't you know that? Before there were humans or vashothari here, there were elves and dwarves.”
“Is that so?” Daveth said. “That can't be right.”
“That's what the histories say,” Kitranna repeated.
They continued on into the Wilds, the smell of blood growing stronger. They fought a pack of wolves, which made Jory and Alistair both concerned.
“Wolves aren't usually this aggressive, even out here,” Jory said, a frown appearing between his eyebrows. “I mean—they can be, but it's not even autumn yet, and it's the middle of the day.”
“It could be they had the Blight,” Alistair suggested. “It makes men into darkspawn, but it can do it to animals too—if it doesn't kill you. It makes everything more aggressive either way. Not for long, of course, but it does.”
Further into the swamps, they finally encountered a group of darkspawn and chased them off—the darkspawn had been attacking a scout, who was clearly very gravely wounded.
“Gray Wardens?” the scout groaned as Jory kneeled down and tried to do what he could for the bleeding man.
“Well,” Alistair said. “He's not half as dead as he looks.”
Jory shot a glare Alistair's way, but let the scout speak.
“My band was attacked by darkspawn,” the scout said. “They came out of the ground—please, help me! I've got to—get back to camp--”
“Here,” Jory said, helping to bandage his wounds as best he could. When the scout could get to his feet, he left as fast as he could. Jory shook his head. “An entire patrol group, killed by darkspawn?”
“Calmly, ser Jory,” Alistair said. “We'll be fine if we're careful.”
“Those soldiers were careful, and darkspawn still overwhelmed them. How many can the four of us slay? A dozen? A hundred? There's an entire army in these forests.”
“There's darkspawn about, but we're not in any danger of walking into the bulk of the horde.” Alistair assured him.
Both Daveth and Kitranna looked sharply at Alistair.
“How do you know?” Jory asked. “I'm not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.”
“Where else are we supposed to get darkspawn blood?” Kitranna pointed out.
Jory sighed. “Do we really need it that badly?”
“Yes,” Alistair said. We really do. A bit of fear is natural—few relish meeting Darkspawn up close. I know I don't.”
“It's not so bad,” Kitranna said, and all the men turned to stare at her.
“...right,” Alistair said. “Because being attacked by Darkspawn is just such a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.”
Kitranna shrugged. “Could be worse.”
“How?” Daveth asked.
“It could be demons. Those get into your head,” she informed them, tapping her temple. “They can possess you and get inside your dreams. Darkspawn are just like...bears or...bandits.”
Everyone continued to stare at her.
“Alright, disregarding that piece of...frightening information,” Alistair said after a moment. “Know this; all Gray Wardens can sense Darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won't take us by surprise. That's why I'm here.”
“See, ser knight,” Daveth told Jory. “We might die, but we'll be warned about it first.”
“This is...reassuring?” Jory said.
“It's always good to be prepared,” Kitranna said with a shrug.
“That doesn't mean I'm here to make this easy, however,” Alistair piped up. “So let's get a move on.”
They continued on into the Wilds, coming across more aggressive wolves and a rabid dog or two. There were no more scouts, and the smell of blood on the air became heavier, although it was at least half an hour before they saw the first Darkspawn.
The Darkspawn brought with them a stench so foul that they almost didn't need Alistair to tell them when the beasts were approaching. They brought the smell of blood, but there was also a sour smell of filth and dirt and death, something that could hardly be described.
They were twisted humanoid shapes that resembled the visages of people, but not quite. They were fanged and had mottled skin in green and sickly gray and yellow, and dressed in patchwork armor.
Most of them wielded blades, some with crossbows or longbows, but they did encounter one that had magic as they pushed further into the Wilds.
They came across several spots where desecrated corpses hung from trees or were impaled on spikes—apparently it was a favored tactic of darkspawn to do such.
Kitranna also found and pocketed the Wilds flower that the kennel master had wanted for the sick dog. She wasn't sure how safe it would be in her bag, but she didn't know how else to carry it.
The more they explored the Wilds, the more ruins they came across. It seemed the entire area had been settled, and not simply by farms, but by people who had built enormous, beautiful structures. All were gone, now, the structures sunken in the ground or flooded with water, their details worn away.
They found the chest they were looking for, the one containing the scrolls, after battling through another group of darkspawn. However, the chest was broken.
Kitranna leaned down, Alistair at her side, and they both looked through the remains of the chest, Alistair biting his lip.
“Well, well, well. What have we here?”
All four of them looked to see a woman descending from one of the ruins surrounding the chest. The woman was pale, very pale, with black hair bound in a wild knot at the back of her hair. She wore ragged, patchwork clothes and there was a staff on her back.
“Are you a vulture, I wonder?” she continued, stepping closer to them. “A scavenger, come to pick at a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or are you merely an intruder, come to these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?”
As she came closer, they could see her eyes, which were bright yellow, like a hawk's, or an elf's. Perhaps she had elvhen blood in her, to make her eyes such a color.
She tilted her head up. “What say you?” she demanded. “Scavenger, or intruder?”
Everyone hesitated, even Alistair, who was eying her staff, but Kitranna stepped forward.
“We're not either of those things,” she said. “Who are you?”
“You are the intruder here, not I, and so I believe the first question is rightfully mine,” the woman said, tilting her head to one side, her eyes narrowed. She moved forward, and they moved back. “I have been watching your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wonder, 'why are they here?'” she walked past them, to look down at the broken chest. “And now you disturb ashes none have touched in so long. Why is that?”
Alistair laid a hand on Kitranna's shoulder. She shook him off, and he murmured “Don't answer her. She looks Chasind, which means there may be others nearby.”
The woman had heard him, and she smirked. “If you believe me to be Chasind, you clearly know very little about them. You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”
“Yes,” Alistair drawled. “Swooping is bad.”
“She's a witch of the Wilds, she is,” Daveth said, his face going pale. “She'll turn us into toads!”
The woman raised her eyebrows. “Witch of the Wilds?” she said. “What idle fantasies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own? You there,” she addressed Kitranna directly. “Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”
“Don't,” Alistair hissed, and Kitranna set her jaw.
“Kitranna Surana,” she told the woman. “Good afternoon to you.”
Alistair sighed.
The woman smiled. “Such manners, even out here. You may call me Morrigan, if you wish.” she folded her arms. “Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”
“'Here no longer?'” Alistair finally stepped forward. “You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of...sneaky...witch-thief!”
Morrigan's expression went flat. “How very eloquent,” she said. “How does one steal from dead men?”
“Quite easily it seems,” Alistair growled. “Those documents are Gray Warden property, and I suggest you return them.”
“I will not, for it 'twas not I who removed them,” she frowned. “Invoke a name which means nothing here any longer if you wish, but I am not impressed.”
“Do you know who does have them?” Kitranna asked. “They're important, or so I hear.”
“'Tis my mother, in fact,” Morrigan said.
“Oh, then could you take us to her?” Kitranna asked. “Then we can get what we need and be on our way.”
“I wouldn't,” Alistair grumbled.
“Yeah, well, you don't seem to be doing much of anything right now, do you?” Kitranna retorted. He glared at her.
Morrigan chuckled. “Not all in the Wilds is monstrous, you know,” she informed Alistair. “Flowers grow here, as well as toads. If you wish, I shall take you to my mother. She is not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers, if you like.”
Alistair folded his arms. “We need those papers,” he told Kitranna. “But I dislike this Morrigan's sudden appearance. It's too convenient.”
“Are you suggesting some other option?” Kitranna asked. She turned to Jory and Daveth. “What about you two? Anything to offer?”
“Your taste in traveling companions appears to leave something to be desired,” Morrigan smirked.
Kitranna rolled her eyes. “Tell us something about your mother, before we go,” she said, glancing at Alistair.
“She prefers her privacy,” Morrigan explained. “I imagine she will be curious enough why you are here. Come, if you wish your papers—see for yourself.”
“Why are you so interested in helping us?” Jory wanted to know.
Morrigan glanced at him, then focused her attention back on Kitranna. “Why not?” she shrugged. “I do not meet many people here. Are you all so mistrustful?”
“Let's go with her,” Kitranna said. “Either way, we won't be standing around here anymore.”
“She'll put us all in the pot, she will!” Daveth protested.
Morrigan snorted and rolled her eyes. “Believe me, I would not wish you in any stewpot of mine,” she informed him, wrinkling her nose.
“Anyway, if the pot's warmer than this forest, it would be a nice change,” Jory said.
“Follow me then, if it pleases you,” Morrigan said.
They followed Morrigan deeper into the swamps. The smell of blood lessened, as did the carnage that indicated darkspawn nearby. The trees thickened, and there were fewer ruins. They did not even run into any of the aggressive wolves or rabid dogs.
“You are aware the Circle of Magi exists, right?” Alistair asked Morrigan. Again, his eyes were on the staff she had strapped to her back. “The Chantry requires all mages to be accounted for.”
Morrigan smirked. “By all means, they may come here if they wish. I have nothing to fear from priests.”
“What about Templars?” Kitranna asked. “Anything to fear from them?”
Morrigan looked at Kitranna, eyed her Enchanter robes and the staff on her own back. A strange expression flashed across her face for a moment, sadness or pity, before she assumed her neutral look again.
“No,” she said. “I am well aware of their abilities.”
“Does that mean you've fought Templars?” Alistair wanted to know.
“Alistair,” Kitranna muttered. “Stop it.”
“I just kind of want to know if we're being lead into a trap by a maleficar or something,” he said. “Might be useful to know, don't you think?”
“Don't bother her! If she'd wanted to trap us, she would have.”
“I certainly would not have taken such a long time to do so, that is true,” Morrigan said.
Alistair pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we end up in a witch's stewpot, I'm blaming you,” he told Kitranna.
“Why is it you think witches like to put people in pots?” Kitranna demanded. “I know I wouldn't want to stew a person. Where are you even supposed to get a pot that big?”
“Many people are directed by ignorance and superstition,” Morrigan said, casting her gaze over to Daveth, who was still pale and nervous. “They do not think these things through, if they think to question then at all.”
They walked for maybe an hour before they finally came to their destination. A ramshackle house stood next to the swamp, a large garden surrounding it, as well as several distinct magical wards that Morrigan deactivated in order for them to come close. Smoke came from the chimney, so someone was certainly home.
“Wait here,” Morrigan said, looking them up and down with a curl to her lip. “You are covered in darkspawn filth. Mother would not much approve of you coming inside, and nor would I.”
She went inside the house, and soon returned with an older woman in tow.
“Here, Mother,” Morrigan said, gesturing to the group. “I bring before you four Gray Wardens--”
“I see them, girl,” the woman said. She wore a tattered, patchwork dress and had long, wild gray hair that covered her ears. Her eyes were a rusty brown, not as bright as Morrigan's, and her face was gaunt and sunken. She narrowed her eyes, looking the group over. “Much as I expected.”
“Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?” Alistair asked.
The woman smirked. “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe,” she said. “Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide, either way, one's a fool.”
“She's a witch, I tell you!” Daveth said. “We shouldn't be talking to her!”
“Quiet, Daveth,” Jory snapped. “Anyway, if she's really a witch, do you want to risk making her mad?”
The woman smiled. “There's a smart lad,” she said, and looked him over with a strange gleam in her eye. “Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will.”
The woman looked at all of them thusly, and her gaze snagged on Kitranna. Her eyes gleamed and she moved forward. “And what of you?” she asked. “Does your elvhen mind give you a different perspective? Or would you believe as these boys do, those who are not your kin?”
Kitranna tilted her head to the side, and something nagged at her mind.
“I'm not sure what to think,” she admitted. “Not right now, anyway.”
“Hm,” the woman smirked. “A wise policy...or perhaps not. Time will tell.”
“What does that mean?”
“Perhaps it means nothing. Perhaps it means everything. I could not tell you. So much about you is uncertain, and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems that I do.”
“So...” Alistair looked at Kitranna. “This is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?”
“Witch of the Wilds?” the woman chuckled. “Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the light of the moon!”
“They did not come to hear your tales, Mother,” Morrigan said. Spots of color had appeared in her cheeks.
“True,” the woman's tone was suddenly businesslike. “They came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these.”
“You--!” Alistair began, then he seemed to catch up to what she was saying. “Oh...you protected them?”
“And why not? Take them to your Wardens, and tell them that this Blight's threat is greater than they realize.”
“What do you mean?” Alistair asked.
“Either the threat is more, or they realize less,” the woman said, then she laughed. “Or perhaps the threat is nothing. Or perhaps they realize nothing!” she chuckled again. “Oh, do not mind me. You have what you came for.”
“Time for you to go, then,” Morrigan said.
“Do not be ridiculous, girl,” the woman said. “These are your guests.”
Morrigan sighed. “Oh, very well,” she said. “I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”
“Thank you, for the papers,” Kitranna told Morrigan's mother, who just looked at her with a funny smirk on her face.
Morrigan lead them away, reinstating the wards around the house as they left.
“There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Kitranna told her companions. “I told you it was fine.”
Alistair sighed. “No, it's true, we did not get eaten by a witch,” he said.
“Thank you, Morrigan,” Kitranna said, the looked pointedly at her companions.
Morrigan noted Kitranna's look and chuckled. “So intent on politeness!” she said.
“Should I be rude?”
“I believe you should not expect very much from them.”
“We are right here, you know,” Alistair said.
“And you have shown me nothing that may improve my opinion of you,” Morrigan said. “So I care not.”
“Are you and your mother really apostates?” Kitranna asked.
“You come from a Circle, do you not?”
“Yeah.”
“And what do you think of your Circles?”
“Can't say I like them too much,” Kitranna said. She didn't really want to relay the details of her departure from the Circle.
Morrigan looked at her sidelong. “You have no fondness at all for the Circle, then?”
“No,” Kitranna said. “Not really.”
Morrigan was quiet for a long time. “It is good that you are taking steps to remove yourself from their imprisonment,” she said. “I would advise you to be careful, even if you are with the Wardens.”
Kitranna tilted her head back. “Right,” she said.
They kept walking, and after a while, they were back in an area they were more familiar with.
“You can find you way back from here, yes?” Morrigan said.
“Yes, but--” Alistair started, and Kitranna cut him off.
“Yes,” she said. “Thanks, Morrigan. Keep safe.”
Morrigan gave her a funny half-smile. “My...thanks,” she said. She turned and left without so much as a goodbye.
Daveth shuddered, watching her leave, and the four of them set off back to Ostagar.
“Is the Circle so bad?” Alistair asked.
“What do you know about it?” Kitranna wanted to know, her eyes narrowed.
“I—before I was recruited into the Wardens, I was to become a Templar,” Alistair said. “But I'd never even seen a Circle the whole time I was in the abbey.”
Kitranna stared at him for a long moment. “Maybe I'll tell you another time,” she said at last. “It's a long story. You should ask the mages when we get back to Ostagar.”
“They don't really like me,” Alistair pointed out. “You saw.”
Kitranna shrugged. "Maybe if you didn't bother them, they'd like you more."
“You're lucky, though, aren't you?” Jory asked. “Better off than that woman in the swamp, or living on the street, or in an alienage, right?”
“I wouldn't know. I never lived outside the Circle,” Kitranna said. “The Templars took me from my family when I was a baby.”
“Who is your family?” Daveth asked. “What city are you from? I know some elves back in Denerim, I might--”
“I don't know.” Kitranna said with a glare. “I don't know where I came from. I've been in the Circle since I was small.”
“You never met your family?” Jory asked, and he and Daveth looked at each other.
“No.”
Jory and Daveth looked at Alistair, who sighed.
“Most mages, unless they're from a noble family, aren't allowed to talk with the people they came from,” he admitted. “I don't know why, they just aren't.”
“I thought the Templars took mages because magic is dangerous,” Jory said. “That seems unnecessary.”
“They couldn't let you send a letter, or something?” Daveth asked Kitranna. “I always thought mages were just stuck up, busy with whatever you lot get up to in Circles.”
“Mm,” Jory nodded. “Honestly, that's what I thought too.”
Kitranna shook her head. “No,” she said. “The Templars don't let us talk to anyone outside the Circle.” she ducked her head.
“That's terrible,” Jory said. “They should let you send letters. What about adult mages? If the Circle takes someone who's married? Can they at least talk to their wife or husband?”
“No.”
Daveth and Jory exchanged shocked looks.
“It's not like you can get possessed through a letter!” Daveth exclaimed.
“If I couldn't talk to my wife, at all, I—I don't know what I'd do,” Jory said. “Why hasn't anyone done anything about this?”
“The Chantry likes things just the way they are,” Alistair said. “I suppose not enough people know and care about it.”
They went back to Ostagar in silence, and it was nightfall by the time they returned. Kitranna first went to the kennel master and gave him the flower for the dog, which the kennel master was very pleased to see, and then they went to Duncan.
“So, you've returned from the Wilds,” Duncan said. “Have you been successful?”
“Yeah,” Kitranna said.
“Good. With the blood your retrieved, we can begin the Joining immediately.”
“Before we get started with that...” Alistair said. “At the tower, there was a woman and her mother. Her mother had the scrolls. They were both very...odd.”
“Were they Wilder folk?”
“I don't think so. The younger woman had yellow eyes, like an elf, but she was human...I thought they might be apostates.”
Duncan pursed his lips. “Their business is not ours,” he said. “We have the scrolls. Let us focus on the Joining.”
“What is the Joining?” Daveth asked. “Are we in danger?”
“I will not lie,” Duncan said. “Gray Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”
Daveth and Jory exchanged nervous looks.
“Is that why the Joining is so secret?” Jory asked.
Duncan sighed. “If only such secrecy were unnecessary, and all understood the necessity of sacrifice. Sadly, that will never be so.”
“Let's go then,” Daveth said. “I'm anxious to see this Joining now.”
“I agree,” Jory folded his arms. “Let's have it done.”
“Then let us begin,” Duncan looked away, towards one of the ruins. “Alistair, take them to the old temple—I will join shortly.”
They left the light of the fire, to head towards one of the tumbled-down buildings, far away from the rest of the camp. It was a large building, cold and dark. There were no signs that anyone had been there except for Duncan and Alistair.
Jory paced back and forth as they waited for Duncan.
“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it,” he said.
“Are you blubbering again?” Daveth rolled his eyes.
“This from the man who was convinced the women in the Wilds were going to put us into a stew pot?” Jory retorted. “Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?”
“Maybe it's tradition. Maybe they're just trying to annoy you.”
“Or, maybe there's a reason there's so few Gray Wardens,” Kitranna said. “It's almost as if it's an exclusive Order or something. If anyone could swing a sword and be in, we wouldn't have a darkspawn problem, now would we?”
“I suppose you'd prefer us all to be mages,” Daveth said.
“There aren't actually that many mages in the Gray Wardens,” Alistair piped up. “Circle doesn't like releasing them. Thinks too many in one place are dangerous.”
“That's stupid,” Kitranna said. “If that's the case, why do they put us all into Circles at all?”
Alistair shrugged. “Look, the Chantry doesn't like cooperating with the Wardens at the best of times—honestly, it's probably just a petty thing.” he frowned.
Jory sighed and started to pace again. “I only know that I have a wife, and a child on the way. If they had warned me—it—it just doesn't seem fair.”
Alistair's face fell, and he looked away from them.
“Would you have come if they'd warned you?” Daveth asked. “Maybe that's why they didn't. The Wardens do what they must, right?”
“You think they're sacrificing us?”
“I'd sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.”
“But it's never ended the Blight,” Kitranna said. “We still have Blights. If they're sacrificing us it's only to stave off a Blight for a little while.”
Daveth sighed, and Jory's face went pale.
“That's...not helping,” Alistair told her.
“Well, I don't know how you people do things,” she said, folding her arms. “I'm just saying that if you were into blood sacrifices or whatever, you're not doing a very good job of it.”
“I didn't say blood sacrifices!” Jory said. “I mean—it's like they're just throwing us at the darkspawn!” they all looked at Alistair. “Is it like that?”
“No, we're not doing that,” Alistair said. “That's not the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
“I can't tell you that yet.”
Daveth and Jory both made exasperated sounds. Daveth ran a hand through his hair, he opened his mouth to speak, but Duncan arrived, coming up behind them and walking to a table on the other side of the crumbling hall.
“At last, we come to the Joining,” he said. They all watched him, Jory's eyes narrowed. “The Gray Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when all the peoples of Thedas stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Gray Wardens drank of darkspawn blood, and mastered their Taint.”
Duncan turned to look at all of them.
Jory was now so pale his skin was entirely gray. “We're going to drink the blood of those..those creatures?”
Duncan nodded. “As the first Gray Wardens did before us, and as we did before you. This is the source of our power, and our victory.”
“Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint—we can sense it, and we can use it to slay the Archdemon.” Alistair said.
“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”
Alistair looked down. “Join us, brothers and sisters, join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. Should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day, we shall join you.”
Duncan retrieved the cup of darkspawn blood from its place on the table. The cup was large, so large it barely fit in Duncan's hands, a burnished silver, and the smell of the blood was strong.
“Daveth, step forward,” Duncan said, and Daveth did so.
He gave the cup to Daveth, who took it with shaking hands. His arms bent a little under the weight of it.
Daveth raised the cup to his lips, and drank. He handed the cup back to Duncan.
There was a pause, and Daveth groaned, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. He choked and staggered forward, coughing.
“Maker's breath...” Jory breathed.
Daveth fell to his knees, still choking, and finally collapsed forward onto the ground.
“I am sorry, Daveth,” Duncan murmured. He turned Jory. “Step forward, Jory,” he said.
Jory stepped back, taking his sword off of his back. “N-no,” he stammered. “I have a wife, a child—had I known--”
“There is no turning back now,” Duncan murmured, advancing on Jory.
“You ask too much—There is no glory in this,” Jory said, his voice wavering.
Duncan placed the cup down and removed his dagger from his belt. He and Jory clashed momentarily, before Duncan stabbed him through the stomach.
“I am sorry,” Duncan murmured into Jory's ear, and he let the man fall.
Jory let out a wheeze as he collapsed onto the ground.
Duncan looked up at Kitranna, who stared, open mouthed.
“The Joining is not yet complete,” he said, and retrieved the cup. He stepped around Jory's body, under which a pool of blood was spreading. “Step forward,” he said, holding the cup out to her.
She took it. What else was she to do?
The chalice was heavy in her hands, so heavy, and the smell that came from it was utterly foul. There was blood, and something else—like lyrium, or the ozone aftermath of a spell.
“You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint, for the good of all,” Duncan said quietly.
She lifted the cup to her lips, and drank. She tasted blood, and bile, and black earth, and something like lyrium in the back of her throat. She dropped the cup, and didn't hear what Duncan said next.
There was whispering in her mind, like a demon was speaking to her. Music in her thoughts, something otherworldly, alien. Her head pounded and she pressed her hand to her forehead.
and she saw
Something enormous, a beast that spoke in her mind with the voice of a man, terrible words that she knew but could not comprehend, the stench of blood, all-consuming, and long teeth—great and shining claws—wings so large they could blot out the sun--
something is coming, old blood--
She awoke with a start.
Duncan and Alistair were leaning over her.
“It is finished,” Duncan said, seeing her come around. “Welcome.”
She realized she was lying on the ground and sat up. Duncan helped her to her feet.
“Two more dead,” Alistair said, shaking his head. “In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was...horrible. I'm glad at least one of you made it through.”
“How do you feel?” Duncan asked.
“I saw something,” Kitranna murmured. She wiped her mouth, the inside of her cheeks tasting like she'd been sucking on a coin.
“Here,” Alistair said, passing her a skin of water. “The aftertaste is something nasty.”
Kitranna nodded and accepted the waterskin. “What did I see?” she asked.
“That depends on what your vision was like,” Duncan said.
Kitranna rubbed her forehead. “A—something with teeth,” she said. “Like a big lizard. Was it a dragon? Is that what dragons look like?”
“Archdemon,” Duncan's brow furrowed. “Such dreams come when you begin to sense the darkspawn.”
Kitranna looked up. “An Archdemon?” she said.
“Many Wardens have dreams of an Archdemon, even when there is no Blight,” Duncan said. “That, and many other things can be explained in the months to come.”
“Oh, before I forget--” Alistair said, pulling something from one of his belt pouches. “After the Joining, we take some of the darkspawn blood and put it in a pendant, something to remind us...of those who didn't make it this far.”
He held out the pendant, a small glass vial hung on a chain. A few drops of blood swirled around inside it. Kitranna took the pendant, examined it for a moment. She felt...something from it, something wrong, something...tainted.
She put it in her pocket.
“Take some time,” Duncan told her. “Then, when you are ready, I'd like you to accompany me to a meeting with the king.”
Kitranna nodded, took another sip of water. She didn't look at either of them. Duncan and Alistair exchanged a glance, then Duncan told her where the meeting was, and both of them left her.
She watched them go, her mind humming. She bit the lip of the waterskin, the vile taste in her mouth not having gone away just yet. Her hands felt hot, as if there was a spell under her skin.
She began to pace. They'd taken away the bodies of Jory and Daveth, which she was grateful for. Jory's pale face was still vivid in his mind, and there was still a dark stain of his blood on the flagstones where he had fallen.
She hadn't known either of them for long, but either way, they were gone now. She hummed to herself and took the pendant Alistair had given her out of her pocket.
Kitranna held the pendant up, examining it in the moonlight. It was simple, and she could feel the taint in it, like a curious kind of pressure at the back of her head.
She bit her lip. Then she dashed the pendant on the ground.
She ground the tiny glass vial under her boot heel and kicked the chain away. For good measure, she lit a fire in one of her hands and pressed it to the ground until nothing but a scorchmark remained.
She looked at the scorch mark for a minute, her brow furrowed.
Then she left the old temple and went to the meeting place.