Hello! I used to write fanfics on another account before I lost all access to it, so this is me starting again. Please, feel free to tell me (honestly) what you think and if you spot any typos/grammar errors/things that are just plain wrong then let me know and I'll try to fix them. I really want people to enjoy this so any constructive criticism is always welcome too.
I usually write chapters that are a little longer than this, but since I just wanted to establish some things first, this one's a bit shorter.
Also, I might be a bit liberal with some timelines/plot events from the games so don't hate me if you're a purist! I just hate fanfics that describe to me exactly what I've already played. Let's mix things up a bit!
I hope you enjoy it! Let me know ifyou do and, hey, let me know if you don't. It's all good stuff!
-Katrina
Chapter One. Free
The sunrise was beautiful. Stars faded away as the first rays of light pierced the horizon. Oranges and yellows blossomed across the grey dawn sky, bringing with them the beginning of a new day. Allara couldn't hold back the smile that crossed her face as the warmth of the rising sun washed over her. The Frostback Mountains were cold and the nights were unforgiving, but their beauty was undeniable.
In her contentment, Allara didn't realise that she had stopped walking. "Move, half-breed!" One of her guards shouted from behind, shoving her forwards. With her hands bound behind her back and the snow almost to her thighs, Allara lost her balance, stumbling to her knees. Laughter erupted behind her, but she simply climbed to her feet and continued forwards, trying to keep her anger in check for all of their sakes.
Of course, she could burn through the rope that bound her wrists in a heartbeat, and disarm the five mean flanking her in even less time, but Allara was not so foolish as to think that she could make it back to civilisation alone. Besides, somebody could get hurt if she tried to escape. More than anything, she didn't want to hurt anybody. No, I must wait until the time is right.
"Why doesn't she ever talk?" One of the men to her right asked. She looked at him. Garwen was his name. His long, pointed ears stuck out from beneath a mess of brown curls. Deep blue tattoos swirled across his face in an intricate design, the vallaslin that marked him as a man, yet he looked no older than Allara's own nineteen years. Far too young to be guarding such dangerous cargo.
"I would if I thought that you'd care to listen." Allara replied. Her voice was scratchy and sore; it was the first time that she had spoken in several days. Garwen practically leapt out of his skin and the other four laughed at him, ignoring her comment.
"Scared of the half-breed, Garwen?" Another elf, Haccen, asked. He was the one who held the rope wrapped tightly around her wrists. She couldn't tell whether it was out of fear or spite that he tugged hard on it every few minutes, as though reminding her that he was there. Either way, he had rubbed the skin beneath the bindings raw.
"You should be." Allara murmured, low enough that they would be unable to hear over their chatter. Everyone should fear her, including herself. She had told the clan this many times, but they had refused to listen; refused to let her go.
Blocking out the mundane talk of her guards, Allara continued at a steady pace, eyes on the endless white expanse of the snow before her feet. Every so often, they would give her a shove to move her along, but she kept her anger in check, putting one foot in front of the other and moving onwards, waiting for her opportunity.
Allara had to endure two more days. Two more days of mindless walking, freezing temperatures and countless insults from her guards. Her feet were becoming numb from cold and her temper was held in check by sheer force of will alone. Finally, after numerous indignities, an opportunity presented itself in the form of a distant view of a ruined temple.
Now I have a heading, Allara smiled to herself. Gather a few supplies and then leave. Go where nobody can find me...disappear.
A wave of overwhelming sadness washed over her. For so long, all she wanted was a place to just...be. As all of the other children in the clan had played and been taught the ways of their people, Allara had been locked away with only guards for company, constantly under a cloud of mistrust and fear. Now, if she escaped - when she escaped - there would be no more fear. No more expectations and no more guilt. But she would be alone, entirely and inescapably alone. Wasn't that the way she wanted it? Perhaps not, but it was the way it had to be.
With a sigh, Allara accepted her choice. She felt the weight of it settle on her shoulders, a weight far heavier than anybody so young should have to bear. Even so, she did bear it, her will bending under the strain but not breaking. She was strong enough for this.
Closing her eyes, Allara began to feel the magic bubbling inside her. The familiar painful prickling broke out across her skin and the air felt thick with power. Overhead, grey clouds started gathering, obscuring the sun and sapping all heat from the landscape. A distant roll of thunder could be heard as lightning streaked across the sky. Quick, now, before they realise what's happening, she told herself, too late.
"What the-" Garwen began, but was cut off by a shout from Haccen.
"It's her!" He yelled, pulling hard on the rope around her wrists and Allara knew that she could wait no longer.
Time seemed to slow down as the elves reached for their daggers and bows. Allara ordered the rope that bound her to fray and snap, so it did. The raw flesh beneath immediately began to knit itself back together. Spinning, she turned to face the five guards just in time to see an arrow flying towards her chest, shot from Haccen's bow. A sharp gasp of shock escaped her as she held up her hands in defence. The arrow stopped mid-air, just before her heart, and crumbled into dust that was quickly carried away by the wind. The look of shock on Haccen's face surprised her. Didn't they even warn them about me?
Pieces of Allara's silver hair were ripped free from her braid, swirling around her face, and another crash of thunder echoed overhead, louder this time. "Control, control, don't lose control." She whispered over and over, ordering her mind to obey.
Distracted, she didn't notice as Garwen, clearly terrified, launched his dagger at her slightly clumsily. Although the shot was obviously intended for her heart, it missed its mark. The long blade embedded itself deep into Allara's thigh with a sickening thud. Pain shot through her body in a jolt that sent her falling to her knees and, in that moment, instinct kicked in.
She flung her hand out to the side, willing the source of the pain to be gone. Garwen flew backwards, hitting a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. Allara felt horror set in as she clawed back her lost control. Garwen's body crumpled to the snowy ground in a mess of tangled limbs at odd angles, his eyes closed but his chest rising and falling as he took ragged breaths.
The four remaining men looked at her as though she were a monster. They were right.
Lightning forked downwards, striking a tree just yards from them and the wind was nearly knocking them to the cold ground. Snow swirled, making opening ones eyes almost impossible. The effort it took to not simply let go and allow whatever darkness it was inside her to take over was immense. Allara wasn't sure how much longer she could keep it up. She must end this quickly.
Shaking off their horror, the four elves before her readied their weapons. Allara raised one hand and squeezed it in the air, watching as all of their weapons crumbled away as the arrow had.
"I'm sorry." She whispered, her voice carrying to them despite the wind. "This is the way it has to be."
They stayed where they were, seemingly frozen in fear. Allara didn't blame them for it. Slowly, she stood, gritting her teeth against the pain of the dagger still stuck in her leg. "Sleep." She said, hearing the sadness in her own voice. All four of them collapsed into the snow.
Reigning in the power that she no longer needed, the wind stilled around her and the sky cleared to reveal the bright sun once more. The snow settled and, as quickly as the storm had gathered, it passed.
Allara pulled the dagger free, crying out from both relief and pain. Her body instantly began to heal, the deep wound transforming into a shallow cut within moments. It would scar, but within a few hours, there would be nothing more than that to mark the injury. For Garwen, however, it was a different story.
Once the pain had dulled a little, she stood and began limping over to the tree beneath which he lay. She collapsed beside him and pushed the hair back from his bloody face. His eyes blinked open and he looked at her with blurry eyes.
"Am I going to die now?" He asked, sounding so young. His face crumpled in pain. "It hurts so much."
The words were daggers to Allara's heart. He was just a boy, carrying out his duty. "No." She replied gently, and placed both of her hands over the centre of his chest. She smiled in what she hoped was a comforting way. "I'm going to make it all alright."
Closing her eyes, she pushed warm energy through her hands and into the elven boy's body. This time, no storm clouds gathered. No wind whipped around them. Allara felt not like an avenging monster in a tempest, but a spirit of healing willing somebody back to health.
Bones straightened and reformed, cuts knit themselves together, bruises dissolved to reveal tanned, healthy skin again. The act sapped Allara of her energy, but she continued until Garwen was as healthy as he had ever been. Perhaps more so. When she was done, he looked up at her groggily.
"Thank-you." He muttered, not seeming to be fully aware of what he was saying.
Allara was taken aback. Nobody had ever thanked her for using this power before. She felt a slight smile tug at her lips. She had hurt, but she had also healed.
"Sleep, now." She replied and he did.
After asking if anybody would be willing to barter for supplies with her for the fifth time, Allara was all but ready to give up. Nobody was willing to trade valuable resources for the few copper coins she'd managed to pickpocket. She felt a wave of hopelessness begin to settle over her. She didn't have much time before the guards woke up and came looking for her. Of course, she could have made them sleep for longer, but she hadn't wanted them to freeze to death.
"Damn conscience." She muttered under her breath.
The mages and Templars milled around, waiting for everyone to gather. More arrived every minute, swarming the dilapidated temple. Allara had never seen so many people in one place, let alone so many mages. If she wanted to ask questions about her abilities, this would be the place to do it. No wonder the keeper wanted to bring me here, she thought.
Nervousness began to brew inside her. Nervousness was bad. It led to panic and panic led to Allara losing control. She took a few deep breaths in and out, thinking calming thoughts. It's going to be alright. You're not going to hurt anyone. It will be fine.
That was when the screaming started.
Allara awoke with a start. She was lying on her stomach, her face pressed into rough ground. Her mind felt foggy and darkness was beginning to creep into the edges of her vision. She was vaguely aware of a painful sensation shooting up her left arm, but couldn't seem to muster up the strength to look. The silence around her was eerie and thick.
That dream had felt so real. Was it a dream? It must have been. To be in the fade physically was impossible. Even so, the things she had seen were so vivid and so horrifying. Allara wasn't sure that her imagination was good enough to create such images. The spiders with their sickeningly large bodies and too many eyes. And the woman. The beautiful shining beacon who had led her home. How could she have made it up?
Her mind began to hurt and Allara was tempted to give in, allow her body to fall into a deep sleep. As far as she could ascertain, she had no physical injuries, but something about her felt...drained. Sapped of all energy.
Just as she was about to succumb, the sound of footsteps nearby brought her back from the edge of oblivion. "I certainly didn't expect to find you here, ma' panelan." A deep, female voice spoke, sending shivers through Allara. She felt hands on her back before she was roughly rolled over. Now, without her face pressed into the ground, she could see her. A woman, tall with silver white hair and seemingly glowing amber eyes. She towered above Allara and exuded something almost ethereal and otherworldly.
"Where am I?" Allara croaked, unsure what this stranger was talking about. "Do you know me?"
"Although I suppose it makes sense." She continued, ignoring Allara's questions. "Fate is not without its little ironies."
"Who are you?" Allara asked, a little more forcefully this time. She reached for the ever-present coil of power within her, just in case this woman was a threat, but found it unwilling to cooperate. It was there, certainly, but it did not want to bend to her will.
The woman smiled. "You known me, child. You always have." She answered at last, her voice deep and filled with a wisdom that Allara could not comprehend. Bending down next to her, the strange woman placed one hand on Allara's forehead and one on her chest. Suddenly, Allara felt her magic as though it were racing through her veins, as though answering some kind of call. A thousand different images from a thousand different times flashed through her mind too fast for Allara to see or comprehend. Still, the eerie eyed woman continued on. "It has been many years since we met, venuralas panelan. It seems right that it should be you I find here; that we should meet again, here on the edge of the abyss."
"What-" Allara began, but was cut off by the sound of shouting from behind her. Using the last of her energy, she turned to the direction of the sounds, seeing two men running towards her. Their expressions were grim and their weapons were drawn. Allara tried to turn back to the stranger, but found that she had disappeared. Gone, like so much smoke. Perhaps she was never here at all. Giving up, Allara simply closed her eyes and sank into darkness. In her last moments of conscious thought, she barely heard the five words whispered so quietly that she couldn't be sure if she'd imagined them. The old woman's voice, as though carried on a breath of wind.
"May we meet again, falon."