"Wild Blood" originally appeared on the k!meme between May and June 2011. It is a DA2-inspired sequel to my alternate universe story "Dragon Age: Elvhenan," in which the Arlathan Empire defeated the Tevinters and persisted until the Fifth Blight. You don't have to read "DA:E" to enjoy "Wild Blood."
If you're a returning reader, welcome back!
Hawke sat with Elder Miriam, chanting ancient charms as they methodically pounded roots and herbs in their mortars. Since coming to this strange northern land, every member of the tribe wanted the extra security of protective runes, painted on their faces, bodies or clothes. Only the shaman and her apprentice knew the proper making of it, so they found themselves so occupied nearly every other day.
Both looked up as Danal came charging into the camp, the long-mustachioed scout approaching practically at a run. He came straight to them, beating his chest with one hand in respectful greeting. "Elvhen," he gasped his report. "Two, a sorcerer and her allan'isa. Bryant and the others are waiting by the stream to learn their business."
"Alarum!" Miriam called. It spread through camp quickly, like a fire on tinder. Young women and their children hurried away from the huts, seeking the hiding spots they'd selected on the rocky slopes. Miriam and the other tribal elders past fighting went with them.
Hawke stayed with the others, all vanished behind the huts, waiting to ambush the interlopers if necessary. Danal loped back down the path, to see how Bryant fared and if there would be battle. There was perhaps a quarter-hour of tense silence before Hawke heard a raven's croak that came from no raven. She relaxed marginally and stepped out into the common area, as several warriors did the same. The elvhen were coming in peace - or so they said. The wilders would not show their true numbers just yet.
They arrived surrounded by the tribe's warriors, her brother Carver among them. Bryant, their war-leader, brought up the rear, keeping a close eye on their guests. They were two, as Danal had said. The woman would be the sorcerer, a slender dark-haired thing who looked surprisingly young. The man with his pale markings and large blade must be the allan'isa.
She watched them with undisguised curiosity. She had seen very few elvhen; the Chasind stayed away from the Korcari Fortress and nearby towns, for the most part. There had been some on the ship that brought her here, but mostly humans of the city, broad-shouldered servants to the elvhen. She wondered if the little sorcerer would be her equal in magic or not. But mostly, she wondered about the allan'isa.
The mage-guardians were figures to haunt the bedtime stories of little children with the Gift. They served the sorcerers, it was said, protecting them from hungry spirits from Beyond. In the extreme, they killed those of their charges who became possessed, using the powers granted by their lyrium markings to quiet magic. But they also came for the human mage-children, taking them to the great schools for magic in the Arlathan Empire. And when they emerged... they were changelings, elf-touched, no longer fully human at all. In the thousand years since Tevinter fell, no changeling had ever raised magic against an elf.
She had expected someone more sinister, a sorcerer's lackey with a cruel mouth and hard eyes. Instead, he looked much more like one of their own warriors in such a situation: proud, yet cautious; strong, but not too eager to test that strength. Also, she noted with a small smile, slightly scandalized. Chasind traditional dress seemed to have that effect on city-dwellers. She smoothed the clutch of tawny feathers she wore at her shoulder, feeling vaguely smug.
"They say they are on an errand from the Witch of the Wilds," Bryant said, interrupting her reverie.
Hawke startled. "What? Here?"
"Greetings," the sorcerer said. "You are... Chasind wilder folk, aren't you? From the Korcari Wilds in Brecilia. I expect you're here for the same reason I am - the Blight?"
Hawke nodded. "Yes, that's so. The darkspawn were overrunning the Wilds. Many of our tribe died, and there was no choice but to go on."
"I fled as well," the sorcerer nodded. "My name is Merrill; this is Leto." She gestured to the white-haired man. "I nearly died, but was saved at the last moment by the Asha'bellanar."
Hawke made a small gesture to ward off bad luck. They revered the Witch of the Wilds, the mother of their magic, but feared her as well. "And what was her price? That is why you are here?"
"Yes." Merrill reached behind her neck to undo the clasp of a pendant, which she held out to Hawke. The witch took it and examined it. A deceptively simple charm, like any of the ones she was wearing herself, except that it practically hummed with power under her fingertips. "She said I was to find Miriam, the matriarch of a Chasind tribe that would be here on the Sundermount, and to give her this. Then to do whatever she asked of me."
Hawke looked up from the amulet, one eyebrow quirked. "Whatever she asked of you? Really?"
"Whatever is necessary to complete this bargain," the allan'isa finally spoke, very firmly.
"So... no walking backwards while singing a funny song?"
"That depends. Are you Miriam?" Leto challenged her.
"I... no," Hawke said, dropping her eyes. One did not play games when the Witch of the Wilds was involved. "Carver!" Looking up, she singled out her brother with her eyes. "Fetch Elder Miriam and tell her what has passed here." He nodded once and left, wordlessly.
Merrill tried her best to make awkward small talk until Carver returned, Miriam in tow. The elder took the amulet and bowed her head. "Yes, I know what must be done," she said, sounding tired. "Hawke, here, has the means to do it. But you must both make me a promise." She looked carefully at both of the elvhen. "Swear that you will neither take her to your Aerie, nor kill her, unless she strike you first."
"What?" White-blue light flickered down Leto's markings. "To the Aerie? Is she a sorcerer, then?"
"A witch's power is needed to complete the ritual she requires," Miriam replied slowly. Hawke gaped at her, stunned that she would reveal this.
The allan'isa grabbed Merrill's arm urgently. "We can swear no such thing. Human mages must go to the Aerie when they are found." The warriors standing around them all shifted slightly, and Hawke felt the magic in her boiling.
The sorcerer was having none of it, though. "We have to," Merrill said, looking her guardian in the eye. "I need their help for this ritual, or else it... it goes undone. And I've gone back on my oath to Asha'bellanar."
"But..." The warrior sighed and released her arm. "Very well," he relented. "I swear I will neither take this girl to the Aerie, nor kill her except in defense."
"I so swear as well," Merrill echoed promptly.
"Very well," Miriam said solemnly. "Let me instruct her on what must be done."
Alone in Miriam's hut, Hawke was quietly frantic. "Elder, what were you thinking? Why... why did you - "
"The elf is not the only one with debts to Flemeth," Miriam whispered, making a strong warding sign as she used the Witch's proper name. "We owe her as well, and if this is how she has chosen her repayment, it is not in my power to say her nay."
"As you say," Hawke said, uncertain. "Then... tell me what to do, to make good on this debt of ours."
The trio made their way back downhill in stunned silence, having just witnessed greater acts of magic than any of them had thought possible. Flemeth had appeared from nowhere, hinted at having cheated death, delivered some vague prophecies, then transformed into an enormous dragon and flew away. Idle chatter seemed out of place.
The tribe had re-assembled, although Hawke noted the absence of several scouts and warriors - undoubtedly they were nearby, watching and waiting, just in case. She took her place at Miriam's side as Merrill offered her thanks and good-byes. The elvhen sorcerer turned to go.
There was a sudden flash of white-blue light, and the allan'isa was somehow behind her, an armored arm across her throat and an open hand pressed against her bare shoulder. And it was stealing her power. Spells sparked and died on her fingertips as the mana slid away. She struggled ineffectually, and the pressure on her throat increased until her sight dimmed and blood roared in her ears. She slumped, dizzied; a few breaths later, her sight cleared.
Merrill looked horrified and frightened all at once. Four of the tribe's visible archers had arrows trained on her; she had unshouldered her staff but was not yet casting any spells. Miriam was the very picture of wrath, and Bryant and Carver both looked ready to hand themselves over to blood-rage.
"We swore, Leto!" Merrill was shouting. "We swore we'd leave her alone, so let her go and let's go home!"
"We can't leave her out here." Her captor's voice was loud by her ear. "I won't take her to the Aerie, but she cannot be left here."
"Is it worth your woman's life?" Bryant growled, rounding on Merrill.
"I'll... I'll defend myself!" Merrill said a little hysterically, electricity beginning to spark around the tip of her staff. "I did not come to do harm but I'll defend myself!"
"Stop,"Hawke croaked, and thank all the shifting gods of the Wilds, they did. She had seen the power the little elf commanded, fighting wayward spirits on the slopes of the haunted mountain, and did not want to see it unleashed here. "What do you mean to do?"
"Only to bring you to the city, to see that you do no harm," Leto said, more quietly, so that he was not shouting into her ear. "I would have you as a guest, not as a prisoner."
Despite herself, she laughed hoarsely. "Is this how you invite all your guests to supper?"
"It did not seem wise to advertise my intentions," he replied matter-of-factly. "Guest or prisoner, I do intend to take you."
"What a cunning little wolf you are," she said, smiling grimly. She caught Elder Miriam's eye. "The danger if I stay is more than if I go."
"We will fight for you, Hawke," Bryant declared, striking his shield with his blade for emphasis.
"I know you would," she assured him. "Which is why I will go. If this fenris bites me, I will lead the hunt for him myself. But until then... think of it as scouting the city, Bryant."
"There will be no biting," Merrill stated firmly.
"Elder?" Bryant asked, hesitating.
"You are sure you wish to do this?" Miriam asked. Hawke nodded, or tried to. She grabbed at the armored arm under her chin with both hands and tugged insistently. Slowly, he lowered it.
"Much better," Hawke said crisply, a bravado she didn't feel. She was empty, without power, and all her own cunning plans relied on having enough mana. But it would come back, and then she'd be prepared. "Yes, Elder. I will be safe."
"I know you will, child. Gods watch over you, and come safely home."
And so it was that Hawke of the Chasind went to live in the great elvhen city of Stonewall, there at the foot of sacred Sundermount.