"Fly straight and do not waver. Bend but never break. Together we are stronger than one. We are the last of the elvhenan and never again shall we submit." - Vir Tanadhal
Chapter One
An Easy Shot
It wouldn't be an easy shot. The shemlen were at least fifty yards away and running—not very quickly, but a moving target was a moving target. And yet, Mahariel'd had tougher marks. If a rabbit couldn't outmaneuver her bow, what chance did a trio of wheezing shemlen stand?
After a moment's indecision, the skinny shem came down with an acute case of arrow-through-the-throat. His friends stumbled over his corpse, too shocked to scream. Not to be outdone, Tamlen buried an arrow of his own in the fat one's chest. Mahariel struck the third in the eye before her friend could steal her target.
It was a game of theirs, counting kills. Not that they enjoyed the bloodshed, but killing was sometimes the only way to survive, to protect their people. A little friendly competition just made their duty more palatable. Or maybe it was winning the friendly competition that brought Mahariel comfort. Gods knew she was over a dozen kills ahead now. Tamlen wasn't a bad shot, but she was the best marksman in their clan.
They each emerged from their hiding places on either side of the road. Tamlen paused over the bodies, considering the one with the arrow in its eye. "Good shot," he nodded appreciatively. Mahariel plucked her arrow out, wiping off the blood.
"Easy shot. He wasn't even moving."
Tamlen snorted. "Easy. Right." He yanked his own arrow from the fat one. "Weren't you supposed to be working with Master Ilen today? Instead of out here, stealing my kills."
"Can't steal what isn't yours, lethallin," Mahariel sang, flicking her friend's nose. He smacked her hand away. "Aw, don't be that way. You know you love me."
"I do," he grumbled. "But from a distance. A very great distance. Like when I am hunting and you are back at camp, playing apprentice with Ilen."
She smirked, stowing her arrows back in their quiver. "Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night."
"Do you think we should we move them?"
"Not worth the effort. Let's see if they've got anything worth taking and leave them to the animals."
"They were running. Not from us," he observed, glancing up and down the path for the mysterious threat. There was nothing to see.
Mahariel shrugged. "Maybe they were late for dinner?"
"I don't think this one's been late for a meal in his life," Tamlen grinned, kneeling to rifle through the fat one's pockets. He came up with a scrap of bread and a few coins.
She pulled much the same from her first corpse, but the second was hiding something interesting. A stone tablet, warm to the touch and crumbled around the edges. An elegant scrawl was carved into its face, but not in any language she knew. She passed it to Tamlen. "Maybe it had something to do with this?"
"Interesting," he murmured, caressing the engraving. "You know what this is, don't you?"
Mahariel rolled her eyes. "Don't you think I would be lording it over you if I had any clue what it was?"
"Good point," he laughed. "You should have paid more attention to Marethari's lessons. This is ancient elvish."
"Where in the Void would these shems have gotten that?"
"No idea, but I aim to find out." She could practically see the visions of glory dancing in Tamlen's eyes. Dragging back some ancient trinket full of lost wisdom, riding on the shoulders of their clanmates as they cheered his name. He was, as usual, getting ahead of himself.
"Easy, boy. For all we know, these shems stole it from some other shems who stole it from somewhere far, far away. Someone might have just copied this inscription so they could call it an elvhen artifact and charge triple. The shemlen know how valuable our old shit is to us."
Tamlen snorted. "Maybe. But I still think we should check it out. Who knows? There might be more 'old shit' where this came from."
"Of course we'll investigate, lethallin. I just hate it when you get your hopes up. You always get disappointed and then you make this face and I—I—"
"You—you? You what?" He smirked, knowing very well what she was trying to say.
Mahariel glared. "If you were a better liar I might think you were faking all that despair just so I would comfort you."
"Comfort? Is that what it is?"
She punched him—not lightly—in the shoulder. Obligingly, he pretended to be thrown off balance. Taking her hand in his, Tamlen led them back down the path the shems had followed. "Come on," he said. "We're wasting daylight."
The shemlen had left an easy path to follow, their heavy footfalls still outlined in the mud. Tamlen—being Tamlen—followed the trail to its end in less than a half hour.
"I never noticed this before," he said, brushing some of the growth back from the cave's entrance. Cool, damp air wafted up from its mouth. Mahariel frowned.
"I hate caves," she complained, pulling her cloak a little tighter.
"Then stay out here," Tamlen shrugged. "I'm sure they'll remember you in the songs. You know, the ones they'll sing after I discover something incredible down here and reunite the clans. You could be my adorable, bumbling sidekick."
"I am not adorable," Mahariel muttered.
"Yes you are. Especially when you do that grumpy little—Yes! That!" He was still laughing when she shoved him into the lip of the cave.
"After you, Shartan," she gestured to the darkness awaiting them.
"You're the one with the fire," he answered with a pointed glance. He had a point.
Mahariel didn't have much magic—not like Merrill or Marethari—but it was enough for a few flames. The Keeper had tried to teach her other magics too, like healing, but no one was surprised to discover her only talent seemed to be burning shit down. Ashalle could attest to that.
Using limbs and leaves from the ground, Tamlen assembled a pair of torches. With a small gesture from her, they both burst into flame. He took the lead, obviously eager to see what secrets the darkness held.
The cave opened into a rectangular chamber, the floor little more than powdered stone and dirt at this point. Roots and brambles jutted up through the ground to climb the sturdy stone columns. Even mostly ruined, the structure was clearly human.
"Interesting," Tamlen said, reading her mind. "What would such an old elvhen artifact be doing in human ruins?"
"Slaves? Theft? A pretty bauble to demonstrate the wealth and might of the shemlen?"
"Such a cynic," he teased, nudging her in the ribs.
"Realist," Mahariel corrected, smiling despite herself.
"What do you suppose this building used to be?"
There was really no way to tell. It was just dust and bones now. Equal measures rubble and animal shit. Whatever had been was gone now. Except for the stone tablet tucked into her pack. "How in the void am I supposed to know? I never paid attention to my lessons, remember?"
"Someone's a little touchy today," Tamlen said.
"It's this place. Something about it is… off. " It made her itch in that unreachable spot right between her shoulder blades. Made her look over her shoulder every five seconds. Made the hairs on her arms stand straight up. And yet — her heart was hammering in her chest with something that wasn't quite fear. Her blood was burning so hot she couldn't even feel the chill of the cavern. Maybe it was just nerves. Felt an awful lot like excitement, though.
"I know," Tamlen agreed. "I feel it, too."
They ventured deeper into the ruin, treading more carefully now. The further from the mouth they moved, the darker the darkness felt. Even as she fed their flames, the light felt meager and ineffective. Had the shemlen seen something down here? Something that made them run without caring about footprints or snapped limbs? It was more likely that they had fled from their own shadows. The thought had crossed Mahariel's mind, as well. Were she anything less than Dalish, she might have indulged it.
Tamlen's hand found hers once more as they passed into an even larger chamber — so large that the other end was masked in shadows. "Gods above, lethallan. You're on fire!" He freed his hand, pressing the back of his palm to her cheeks. She swatted him away.
"It's just the magic, Tamlen. I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced. "Mahariel—" he began, but she covered his mouth. Maybe she was imagining things, but it sounded like —
It flew at them from the shadows, big and black and too fast to identify. Mahariel managed to leap out of the way, but Tamlen was blindsided, toppled and trapped underneath the creature.
Being more of a 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of woman, she leapt into action. Drawing a sharpened dagger into each hand, Mahariel charged, sinking both blades deep into the beast's hairy back. It shrieked and danced backward, giving Tamlen the opportunity he needed to find his feet. Once he was clear, she didn't waste time in putting the monster to flame.
No sooner had the first one gone down — some kind of spider by the look of its smoldering corpse — than another emerged, shrieking, from the shadows. It reared up on its lower legs, shooting webbing from its underbelly. Mahariel wasn't quick enough this time and the gauzy substance hit her with enough force to knock her to the ground. Coated in a sticky oil, she found that fighting only made the cocoon grow tighter.
"Definitely a spider," she growled, struggling to reach her dagger. With torches rolling, useless across the floor, there was no telling how Tamlen fared against the monster. Aside from the thing's awful shrieks and his occasional grunt or swear, she had no indication he was even alive.
When the web grew tight enough to make breathing difficult, Mahariel conceded that her weapons were out of the question. Her options seemed to be waiting for Tamlen to free her or waiting for the web to magically untangle itself. Or she supposed she could just wait to get eaten alive by a giant spider.
They weren't great options; she lacked the necessary patience.
After a moment's struggle, Mahariel managed to twist her palms upward until they were pressed against the constricting fabric. She had never expended so much energy on magic so quickly — not successfully, anyway — but she didn't see any other choices. With her heart was still hammering and her blood burning hotter than ever, she knew at least that the fire was there, waiting to be harnessed.
Practicing the techniques Marethari had taught her, she focused on that heat and channeled it, willed it down to her palms. The flesh there blazed with concentrated energy and she struggled to force it out. This was the hardest part, the part where she always failed. The fire was there, no question, but she lacked the strength to command it. It was why they'd adopted Merrill from another clan, why she would never be a Keeper. It was also why she was about to burn herself alive.
Tamlen had been right about one thing: there would certainly be stories about this little adventure. And she would definitely be bumbling. Bumbling herself to an early, smoldering grave.
"Lethallan!" Mahariel heard his voice, wondered if it was real or a hallucination. Not that she lacked confidence in his ability to kill giant spiders that shot glue from their arseholes, but because she had a tendency to hallucinate in this state. Not that she'd ever told him this, but this had happened before. Not the giant-spiders-of-death part, but the accidentally-self-combusting part. It was why Marethari had stopped her lessons.
Mysteriously, the webbing loosened around her, bringing some relief. Between the darkness and her heat delirium she couldn't be sure why—maybe she had managed to singe them off after all—but it didn't really seem to matter. Breathing was a little easier. Distantly she heard the soothing rumble of Tamlen's voice, but the words didn't make any sense.
"Did you kill it?" Mahariel tried to ask, but she garbled the words.
Tamlen, real or not, seemed to understand and laughed, pulling her close. "It was an easy shot."