Reformation Chapter 1

MARKED AND ACCUSED

Reformation is a Dragon Age Fanfiction by "Eisen". Dragon Age belongs to Bioware.

Eerie green light flickered and flashed. She felt her face connect with the ground, large particles of dirt digging into her cheek. She strained her arms to try and lift herself, but strength deserted her and the blurry floor rose to meet her once more. She did not register the scuffle of boots over the gravel, closing about her prone form.

~o~

Eila Lavellan groaned as the waking world pulled at her consciousness once more. Her heartbeat pounded through her head, each knell wanting to burst through the bone of her skull. Through the pain she could feel an unyielding floor press against her knees and shins – any discomfort there gone, as her legs had gone to sleep long ago.

Among the myriad of aches across her body, an alien throb pounded, an off-sync beat to her own pulse in the palm of her left hand. If comparable to anything it would have been to the holding of another's still beating heart.

She opened her eyes, the lids sticky and stubborn. Her first thought was that she had gone blind, but slowly the vision returned, albeit blurrily. A light swam into focus, then wavered and scattered. Eila frowned as it dawned upon her that she had been looking at a reflection in a frozen-over puddle.

The alien heartbeat in her hand stopped abruptly and she almost breathed a sigh of relief, but any celebration on her part was cut short as chartreuse fire spurted from the palm. The flames were accompanied by mind-numbing pain. Her vision blanked out again, as the pain cut off all other senses. A detached thought heard someone – her? – scream. But the torrent of sensory information from the glowing hand would not allow her to summon any wits to take in more of her surroundings.

The pain only lasted a moment, but seemed as though it had endured for a short eternity. Slowly her senses re-asserted themselves, just in time for her to pick up the distinct sound of sabatons. The distant corner of her consciousness that was still coherent recalled the sound of marching through the haze of pain. There was an image of a shem lord's armoured soldiers passing through the village where she usually traded on her clan's behalf.

The footfall of heavy boots accompanied by the clinking of metal buckles and plates drew nearer until it stopped short in front of her. Eila forced the protesting muscles in her neck to look up and her struggling eyes to focus on the person in looming above.

As soon as she was sure she had gotten Eila's attention, the shem'len woman began pacing, forcing Eila to give up trying to follow her with her head and making sounds that seemed to be very accusatory. She finally wheeled around, fixing Eila with a glare as she marched up to her hunched form. The shem leaned down and grabbed the hand that burned, lifting it to Eila's face as if the hand were accusing its owner as much as the woman holding onto it.

"Explain this!" she spat.

Eila flinched as spittle flew into her face, her mind finally winning in the struggle for coherence, but nothing offered itself as an answer to the glaring shem. Her mouth struggled silently as it tried to form words in answer, a bitter taste coating her tongue.

The rough handling of her hand also impressed upon her that she was manacled. The heavy wooden beam connecting her wrists pulled the hand back to the floor as soon as the shem woman let go. A cursory glance told Eila that there were others in the room besides the angry woman. Several shems that looked to be soldiers stood around, bared swords pointed at her, their faces betraying fear. In the shadows an ominous hooded figure watched the proceedings.

A gauntleted hand connected with Eila's face and sent her thoughts reeling once more. The force of the blow lifted her from her knees and sent her crashing onto her side. She saw stars.

"Enough, Cassandra! We may yet need her," a refined voice with an Orlesian lilt called from the shadows where the hooded figure had been standing.

Eila managed to turn her head just enough to see them reveal themselves. A woman wearing a sleek mail hauberk stepped into the chamber's dim lighting. Her – what would probably be considered beautiful - features, by human standards, were marred by a strained look, ashen smudges and dark rings under her eyes. What coppery red hair was visible clung together from sweat.

The woman that had hit Eila stalked towards the other and they started a heated - yet hushed - argument. That was when she felt something running down her cheek and along her jawline. The blow to her face must have split skin.

Even in her dazed state she could pick up some of the words in the debate taking place before her: Divine, Conclave, survivors. Memory rushed back to fill the void in Eila's mind.

~o~

"Da'len, I want for you to go to the shem'len holy woman's Conclave. I believe it shall be a pivotal event in determining the days to come. While we may not yet be a part of the mage-templar conflict, I fear that the consequences of this foolish war will have repercussions that may even reach the most far-flung of the People."

"As you wish, Keeper."

~o~

Eila watched from the shadows of one of the many ornately carved pillars that adorned the entrance of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Shems passed by her hiding spot, completely unaware that they were being observed by what would in their eyes no doubt be a heretic, deserving of death for treading foot in a place so sacred to them.

Groups of both mages and templars were scattered through the hall, carefully avoiding one another and shooting the occasional venom-filled suspicious looks towards the other group. Important figures of the Chantry flitted between them, trying to soothe and resolve as much tension as possible to mitigate any potential disruptions to the peace talks before they even began.

The diversity of representatives present had surprised the Dalish Elf. She had expected to be as bored by her assignment as she had been whenever she stole into the Chantries of whatever village they were nearest to in their travels. The journey itself had already been an adventure in its own right, with the port cities of the Waking Sea, the spray of the ocean breeze as a ship cut through its waters and the rugged landscape of Ferelden – so different from the wilderness in the Free Marches where she had grown up. What could the Conclave possibly have offered to keep her interested?

She had not expected the crowds swarming to Haven, the myriad of representatives and pilgrims from all walks of life. She had not expected the grandeur of the temple itself.

The architecture of the place that had once housed the remains of Andraste herself was truly breath-taking. Heralding back to an era in which the world's fate was decided. An era in which Elves had been free, with their own land, their own home.

Then not ten years ago the world's fate was decided once more, once more featuring this structure; the Hero of Ferelden rediscovering the ancient walls and the treasure hidden within. Even her own tribe's storyteller recounted how the Warden had delved into the most dangerous shadows of the Bracillian forest to save another clan of the People from the clutches of a wicked curse.

There were others who had come to attend the peace talks, beyond the Chantry, Templars and Mages. No doubt many saw what the Keeper had seen, knowing that what was decided at the Conclave would shape all of southern Thedas' future.

A great deal of Orlesian, Ferelden, Nevarran, Free Marcher and even some Antivan nobility were in attendance, no doubt all desiring to have a hand in determining how the deliberations worked out, or at least present when the decisions were made. Then there were the soldiers; bereft of their former reliance on the templars, the Chantry had hired a company of qunari sellswords to maintain the peace between attending rivalling factions. Eila had seen the company's leader earlier that day, a giant of a woman, whose horns curved back over her head in an almost graceful sweep.

Eila had seen her and and a number of her men chasing something through the crowds. Only when the elf clambered up a pillar to remain out of trouble did she spot the diminutive hooded form of what had to have been a durgen'len, a dwarf, flitting through the crowds. She had breathed out a sigh of relief upon realising that the chase already had intended prey and that she need not concern herself over it.

Then there were also the Commander and his troops. She was unsure how they fit into the picture, but the giant blonde human with his bear hide cape led a notably growing force established on the outskirts of the village of Haven. They bore no standards and the natural colours that made up their uniform matched no noble houses Eila had ever heard of - in her experience the more garish a noble could be, the better.

Her paranoia kept her up among the rafters a good several hours longer than had probably been necessary, but it did allow her to catch snippets of conversation drifting up to her from the groups below - none of them expecting an eavesdropper to be spying from above. Eventually a set of bells had tolled from somewhere within the labyrinthine halls and groups started to disperse and move towards a central doorway. Eila decided that would be the best opportunity to return to the ground floor and blend in with the crowds to try and get a good view of the proceedings, grateful also, that the opportunity would allow her to stretch her stiff limbs.

She swung between the beams as though they were branches in the forests of her childhood, eventually clambering down a pillar on the far side of the room, while hoping not to draw any attention to herself. She spotted a corridor leading off from the main chamber and melted from shadow to shadow until she reached the doorway, quickly slipping in, to remain out of sight. Her trip was cut to an abrupt halt as she collided with someone in the darkened doorway.

"Oof!"

The offending party was a shem'len girl with wine red hair, dressed in spartan leathers more akin to armour than anything else and a form-fitting coat. The two women bounced off one another, landing hard on the stone tiles. Eila recovered in a flash, drawing a dagger and crouching before the mage, poised to strike.

The other girl looked up, disorientated, but on her feet just as quickly, the hair of her fringe knocked to the side to reveal a sunburst brand marking her forehead – the mark of the Chantry – the mark of a dream-dead, Tranquil. But her eyes were anything but dead.

"Wha-"

"Hold your tongue shem, before I relieve you of it!" Eila cut off the woman's query sharply, her gut sinking at the thought of failing in her assigned task due to a mistake as foolish as not watching where she'd been going.

The red-head's mouth snapped shut, a look of confused suspicion stealing across her face before being replaced by one of determination.

"I'll do nothing of the sort! Nobody is to to disrupt the talks, and any threats to the Divine are to be eliminated." Her accent hinted at a Marcher heritage.

"Pff, as if I care that much for shem'len affairs," Eila balked. "I am merely here as a listener at my Keeper's behest."

"Right, as if a Dalish mage would be here for so trivial a thing."

"How did you…."

Both women looked sharply down the dark passageway behind them when Eila was interrupted by a crash of breaking furniture and a shout that had the human pale several shades more than Eila had thought possible with her sun-marked porcelain complexion.

~o~

Eila let out a small sound, breathing in sharply as she recalled what had happened. The two shem'len women turned towards her as one, cutting off whatever discussion it was they were having.

"I…I remember…" Eila managed from her awkward position on the floor.

The first woman stepped towards her, causing Eila to flinch, expecting another blow. "What do you mean you remember, elf?" Her manner was as brusque as before, oddly harmonizing with her appearance. She wore her hair cropped short, with a thin braid running around her crown. Her plate armour was covered by a tabard heralding a great white eye on black. A long scar accented her jawline and slightly broke up the angled planes of her face.

"I remember arriving at the Conclave," Eila began. "Our clan's Keeper sent me to find out what would happen among the shem – humans, and I ended up hiding in the temple when the guards started a search for a durgen'len. Which was when I ran into a false dream-dead…hggnnnn-"

Both of the human women cried out, rushing forward, the soldiers surrounding Eila stepping back in surprise as the elf's eyes rolled back and a seizure gripped her.

"One of you! Find me something to use as a bit!" the hooded one ordered as she rushed to the convulsing elf's side. The armoured one forcefully held down Eila's thrashing limbs, as the mark on the her hand bathed the dank room with brilliant light, energy spurting from it and painting the walls with stark shadows.

~o~

She was standing on ground that looked as if it had once been flowing lava; the swirls in the dark rock reminding her of the time her clan had passed by a volcano. The Keeper had told of how a mountain could spew fire like a dragon.

Thick fog swirled around her, and the air had a disconcerting lack of scent. Eila walked forward a few steps, trying to peer through the thick clouds dancing around her. No scent, so not smoke. No moisture, so not fog. What is this?

The mist cleared suddenly, as if a strong breeze had blown through, even though she had not felt anything. Standing in front of her, facing away was a blonde elf, dressed in the same servant's clothes Eila herself had pilfered from some noble's caravan before entering Haven. She had the odd feeling that the person in front of her was supposed to be her. But clearly it couldn't be - if that was her, then who was she?

Green light flashed like lightning, illuminating the entire warped wasteland and blinding her for a moment. Once her vision cleared, the copy had turned around to face her. The entire front of her stolen garments were soaked in blood, her hands, arms and face also splattered and smeared with the red life-essence, one of the marks across her copy's cheek looking suspiciously like a smeared handprint.

Despite its macabre appearance, the copy had an insane rictus of joy plastered onto its face, with teeth bared and the corners of its mouth pulled far too wide for what should have been possible for an elf. Its eyes were wide and blank, simple ivory orbs that lacked all signs of iris and pupil that had Eila wondering how the creature saw. She could feel the bile rising and had to fight the feeling back. She lost that struggle when the creature licked the blood from one of its slightly-too-long fingers.

She only had time to heave once before there was a sick sucking noise from the ground next to the copy, where the lava-like surface seemed to have lost its rigidity and another corrupted copy had begun crawling its way out as if birthed by the very rock.

Eila stepped back, hesitant to turn her back on the not-me. Yet every fibre in her body demanded that she do so. The first copy took a staggering step towards her, then another, its movement awkward, as if unsure as what to do with its limbs. The creature emitted a strange sound that would have raised the hair on Eila's back, had she been human.

The creature was laughing. It was a low almost-giggling sound that made Eia want to claw out of her own skin at its simultaneously familiar, yet alien nature.

She could not bring herself to move, with her legs frozen in horrified fascination as the not-me drew ever nearer. It was about to reach out and touch her with one of its bloody hands when her body finally reacted to the panicked instructions of her mind. Eila's arm swung around faster than she had ever moved, fist bathed in cyan fire. The blow connected with the not-her and exploded, the force of the spell tearing the creature that couldn't, wouldn't possibly be her.

At the demise of its fellow, the other copy shrieked. The sound pierced the air unlike any a person could have made. The ground began to churn all around much like when the second copy had appeared.

The second copy took a step towards her, then shuddered to a halt, writhing as something moved beneath their skin.

Fear gathered in Eila's chest, coiling around her heart and lungs, but then everything flashed green again as a tremor shook the ground. Several of the newly-birthed copies shrieked, but the sound was cut short as they turned into a pearly smoke that was sucked away to somewhere above and behind her in a streak of green energy

The shaking knocked her to the ground, but quickly staggered back up, shocked into action as all the building adrenalin finally found an outlet. Turning she started to run. Seeing only a steep mountain stairwell she struggled up the path in a vain hope to escape the creatures that she knew would attempt to twist her. Make her one of them. Make her, not-her.