Legend (Dragon Age Origins)

Chapter 12: Sten Of The Beresaad

The Archdemon whispered to them, its dark words filling their souls, commanding them. Milk white eyes watched on as the undead fiends marched through the stone, their fiery torches guiding the way across the deep. They were headed towards the surface, to surge through the dwarven warriors who kept them down and to rip apart every living being until the world would finally be theirs once more.

And this time, it would stay that way.

*

Dru jolted awake, smacking her forehead against the underside of the bunk above her. The impact sent her directly onto her back again. Gripping her head, she groaned loudly. The remnant of the nightmare still echoed in her mind, not at all aided by the fierce headache that was quickly wrapping around her skull like a tight belt.

Kicking off the blankets that tangled around her legs, Dru slipped out of the bunk. She was in Leliana's room in the Chantry. The Sister had not lied, they had given her a rather obnoxiously large space.

Despite its size, the room was sparsely decorated. Odd, as Leliana had mentioned that she had been living there for two years. A large bay of windows looked out to the courtyard below the Chantry. To the right of the windows sat a short dresser and bookshelf, barren save a few books about the Maker and the history of Ferelden. 

The only personal touch came in the form of a gorgeous longbow carved from white wood. It hung against the back of the door, joined by a black quiver filled with green-feathered arrows.

The bunk-bed she had slept in was pressed against the other side of the room. Leliana was snoring softly on the top bunk, her ginger hair a tangled mess. Alistair had offered to take the small couch beside the door, but the man himself was missing. His satchel and newly acquired sword and shield lay absently on the floor, joined by the heavier pieces of his armour.

Dru quickly dressed in her armour and cloak and left the room.

The Chantry was quiet and mostly empty, just as it had been last night. A thousand candles were lit at the feet of the pews that lined the hall, illuminating the dust that wafted down from the rafters above. A few women knelt in front of a statue of Andraste, tears streaming down their faces as they muttered silent prayers. A Templar stood nearby, watching them intently.

Morrigan had refused to come with them, instead taking the camping gear and angrily muttering that she would rather sleep with the refugees in their encampment.

Dru couldn't blame her. Despite being accompanied by Leliana, Alistair and Dru were still questioned by the Chantry Priestess, a sad-looking old woman. Fortunately, Leliana was able to convince her that the Grey Wardens intended no harm, but Dru still overhead the Priestess warn Leliana that it was best to leave Lothering by dawn, in case trouble found them.

The morning air was nice and cool against her skin when Dru stepped out of the Chantry, the summer heat still a few hours away. Sunlight peeked over the surrounding hilltops, bathing Lothering in a beautiful golden light. It was too early for the refugees to awaken just yet, and only the farmers were up, scattered across the fields and tending to their crops.

A small creek ran through the city, a cobblestone bridge allowing passage over it. Dru found Alistair sitting at the edge of the bridge, his boots beside him and bare feet kicking up the water's surface. He was staring down at his hands, a silver glint revealing the pendant entwined in his fingers.

Dru walked over and joined him. Neither said a word as she slung her legs over the edge and pressed her elbows against her thighs. The murky water revealed the reflection of a rugged elf and her human companion. Different in species but joined in blood.