Chapter One
Shrouded Roads
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It was a cold, mist shrouded morning when I woke. Rolling onto my side I noticed that the fire I had built last night had all but burned itself out. No hot breakfast for me. I thought, sitting up straight and rubbing my eyes. I decided that I shouldn’t stick around for too long, just to stay safe. My belly ached though, not having eaten for almost three days. I gathered what little remains there were of my survival pack and stuffed them into a small pouch on my quiver. Scooping up my bow, I slung my quiver over my shoulders and kicked some dirt onto the smoldering embers of my fire, effectively suffocating it. I pulled out a map which I had bartered for with a passing trader and surveyed my options. I had no idea where my clan could possibly have been headed. They could be half way to Par Vollen by now and at this rate, I’d never catch them. After a long ten minutes, I decided that my best chance was to make for Denerim, the capitol of Ferelden. With little else in the way of choices, I packed up my map and started working my way southwest to Denerim.
It was midday now, the sun was high in the sky and with it being summer, the Fereldian countryside was sweltering hot. I paused for a moment by a stream, splashing some of the water onto my face and cupping my hands to take a drink. Looking up, I was surprised at what was coming down the road towards me. A group of travelers. Some were Elven, others human. The one who looked very clearly like the leader was an Elf. He was a few inches taller than me and was clearly from a southern province. His dark tanned skin showed that much. His long blond hair hung just above his shoulders. On his back were sheathed a pair of short swords. It took me a few moments to realize that I was staring at him. After a few moments I noticed myself gawking at him and I couldn’t help but blush. Not only had it caught me off guard, but I noticed that he was looking at me. Holding up a hand, he signaled for some of his men to head in my direction, which I didn’t quite like. Both of the other men were human. As they started towards me, I couldn’t help but notice myself starting to back off. A few steps at a time, but there it was. The men slowed their pace as the reached me, one stepped behind me. “Was there something you need, knife ears?” the first man snapped. Knife ears was a racial slur for Elves that I had grown used to. “Nothing from the likes of you” I shot back, stopping myself from taking another step backward. The man looked at me with a look of amusement in his eyes. “You don’t even know who we are do you?” said the man behind me. Turning to face him, I locked eyes with him. “Should I?” I poked. The first man chuckled and I heard a blade being unsheathed. I drew one of my own long Elven knives and turned to face him. A hand caught the man’s wrist, holding his weapon back. “Now now, that’s no way to treat a simple traveler” said the dark skinned Elven leader as he stepped into view, his voice carried a heavy Antivan accent. His eyes snapped onto me, thoughtfully examining me. Looking me over, head to toe. “What could a single Dalish be doing all the way out here? And this close to Antiva” he said, circling me slowly. I warily eyed him as a curious smile flickered across his face. I wasn’t sure whether to be frightened or intrigued. Not sure whether I should answer or not, I held my tongue. “You look hungry. How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” he asked, a genuine tone of concern in his voice. “A few days” I replied, my eyes falling to the ground. Truth be told, I was starving. I hadn’t eaten in near of a week. I would pick herbs to munch every day, but they hardly lasted me. “Come. You must eat something before you starve to death” he said, extending a hand. I looked at his hand warily, unsure if I should accept food from travelers who clearly were trained killers. And heavily armed to boot. “No thanks. I’m sure I’ll manage” I said, deciding to play it safe. His ears lowered, disheartened. “Very well. But I simply cannot allow you to travel with an empty stomach” he said, pulling an apple from his pack. He tossed it to me and turned to leave. The other men started back towards the caravan. I looked at the apple and stuffed it into my pack. Deciding against the roads, I trotted back into the woods and continued south, vaguely in the same direction as the road. After walking a few hours, I sat down in the shade of a great oak tree and reached into my pack. Fishing around a little bit, I found the smooth surface of an apple. Plucking it from my pack, I quickly devoured the sweet and juicy fruit, which instantly hit the spot. Tossing the core deeper into the woods, I leaned up against the tree and looked up at the canopy. I allowed my eyes to close for a few moments and I found myself drifting off into a dream.
Even in my dream I couldn’t get that Elf out of my head. He was beyond any doubt handsome, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine whether he would return the feeling. Even if not, that smile that he gave me was nothing short of unforgettable. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to follow them or not. His companions had clearly seen their fair share of killing, none to say the less of himself. At the same time, I knew that he intrigued me for some reason that I could not explain. I began to come back around, feeling a chill on my face. Opening my eyes, I realized it had started to rain. I also realized that I had been asleep for a greater portion of the day. Peeling my back off the tree, I stood, stretching my back, which had grown stiff. I sighed, wiping my forehead and gathering up my bow. Looking around briefly, I trotted out towards the road. I sniffed at the air briefly, something seemed wrong. My ears stood straight up, I looked down the road to the south and saw thick, black smoke rising in the distance. I ran down the road in the direction of the smoke. Unsure of what I would do when I got there, I ran anyways.
Reaching the top of a hill, I saw a town farther down in the valley, some of the buildings burned, others had completely collapsed. The smoke didn’t prevent my sharp eyes from distinguishing people moving about in the town. I drew my bow and trotted towards the town. As I drew closer I saw bodies littering the fields around the town. Men, women and children. I felt sick to my stomach upon seeing the bodies. Cut down where they stood. The crops in the fields had largely been reduced to ash. The hoof prints of many cavalrymen were easily distinguishable in the road leading into town. As I continued past the scorched fields I found that many of the houses were empty. Largely untouched, but empty. I called into them only to be greeted by silence. The entire town was a ghost town. Completely abandoned. As I began to lose hope that anyone was left alive, I heard voices in the distance. I climbed onto the roof of a house and stopped just short of the ridgeline. Peering down from the roof I saw many armed men rounding up the survivors, largely women and children, shackling them and throwing them into caged wagons. “Slavers” I gasped under my breath. I never thought I would meet these fiends but sure enough… here the were. Without thinking of the consequences I knocked an arrow. But then the reality of my situation hit me. There’s one of me and maybe fifty of them. What good can my bow possibly do? Assuming they didn’t return fire and shoot me from the rooftop, they’d climb up here and beat me senseless or worse. Still… I simply couldn’t let them get away with so many people. There were nearly thirty children and almost fifty women. All of which had very clearly been beaten very badly. Some already bore bruises. A few had broken bones. All were separated. Women were in the first three or four wagons and the children were in the other three. All of them had been chained and had nearly all of the clothes they were wearing stripped from their bodies, save for their undergarments, which clearly made them cold and uncomfortable in the harsh Ferelden climate. I decided that if any of them stood any chance at escaping, I needed a diversion. And a fast one. Then my largest problem hit me… I was a little short on volunteers. I also did not have the luxury of time. The slavers were already rounding up the last group of prisoners when it hit me. I had to be the distraction and the rescuer and the one who made sure they could get away… all at the same time. Without any further hesitation and with nowhere near as much planning as I rightfully should have had, I leaned my bow and quiver against the roof and drew my long knives and leapt from the roof. The slavers didn’t even notice me land. I ran straight at the closest slaver, my blade cocked back to swing. The captain noticed me. “Hey!” he shouted from the back of the rearmost wagon. The slaver in front of me turned as I swung. My blade flew high, red mist spraying all across my chest. Another slaver swung wild at me and I dove under his blade and stabbed upward with both of my knives. Both blades tore into his flank, blood gushing from the wounds. The leather armor that these slavers wore did little to protect from my razor sharp blades. Two. I thought, continuing my bee-line towards the slave wagons. A pair of slavers moved to cut me off. Diving between them, I swung both of my knives out at them as if they were wings. Both blades connected around their midsections, shearing through their armor and cleaving the one on my right clean in half. Rolling back to my feet, I recovered my right blade, the other was still lodged into a slavers’ gut. Turning back to recover the blade was my first mistake. I took a hefty punch to the chest from the same slaver who I thought should have been dead by now. I recovered quickly though and swept his legs with a low kick, pulling my blade from his midriff in the process. I brought the point down on his head, putting him down for good. I turned to continue my advance on the wagons. Four paces later I was at the locks. A few blows from the pommel of my long knife was more than enough to snap the flimsy lock off the grate. Forgetting that there were still maybe forty five angry slavers behind me all of which would probably love to get their claws on a young Dalish Elf who knew how to fight… that was my second… and last mistake. I turned to unlock the next wagon and the Slaver captain stood towering over me. The last thing I saw was a big gauntleted fist coming straight at my face.
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