Disclaimer: Bioware owns all but some of the new characters I made for this story.
A/N: My sincerest thanks to Empire of Dust for betaing my prologue. For her and all the mage MC :)
Sitting snugly on a makeshift bed of several bedrolls were two elves, one a big-eyed child and the other, despite the hardened lines round her mouth and eyes, still retained much of the gracefulness one often attributed to an elf. They were conversing in elvish, the older elf held an open tome on her lap.
"'We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path. We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit.' That is our oath, da'len, made after our second homeland fell." Sadness shadowed the elven woman and she was silent for a long moment. She looked at the little girl beside her then her hand brushed over the little girl's hair lightly, "Think you can remember the oath?"
"Of course, mamae," the little girl began to recite, "We are the Dalish: keepers of the lost lore -"
"Open up!" a voice calling outside knocked the door with such force that it shook the frail plank-walls.
The elven woman frowned. She hid the tome under the bedrolls and motioned for the little girl to hide herself. She waited till the girl crouched behind a stack of crates piling in a corner before she opened the door.
"What is it, ser?" she eyed the three armored men with an evident look of unwelcome.
"We're templars from Highever Chantry. We've been informed your daughter has shown... magical talent," said the eldest templar as his eyes swept round the room. It was largely empty save for some bedrolls and crates piled in a haphazard way, "Where is she? By law and order of the Revered Mother, we need to take your daughter with us to the Circle of Magi. There, she can learn magic with -"
"You must be mistaken, ser," the elf interrupted impatiently, "My girl is barely six and has difficulties getting your shem words right."
"Magic needn't words sometimes. Hand your daughter over; if there was a mistake, we will bring her back, I promise." the templar took a step closer.
"I don't want to go with them, mamae!" The little girl understood enough to know the shem came for her. Terrified of being taken away from her mother - the only world she'd known - she stood up from her hiding and pleaded.
"Da'len..." the elven woman looked at her daughter, her eyes softened with love.
They were speaking in elvish and the templars couldn't understand a word. Nevertheless, they'd done this more than they could count and they'd expected resistance of certain degree.
"Move aside, elf," ordered the eldest templar as he used himself as barricade to restrict the elven woman. Taking his cue, the other two templars marched in toward the little girl who stared at the intruders with wide eyes.
"Come, child. There is no need to be afraid of us," one of them coaxed. His younger partner - still a trainee in truth - put his hand on the hilt of his sword. He was taught that all mages are evil. He had seen the scars of those 'evil deeds' on many of the senior templars. He believed it. The girl backed away while muttering under her breath.
"What?"
Without warning, a freezing gale blew in the direction of the three templars and they were frozen in place and pose. The mother was shielded by the templar who had tried to refrain her movement. Seeing that the harm had been done, she grabbed her daughter's hand and ran. To the east lay the woods where they'd spent time often.
The sun was setting and many villagers were inside their homes preparing dinner. Columns of smoke rose lazily, mixed with sweet fragrance of cooking. It would be a peaceful sight if there weren't templars hot on their heels. A few houses down, they passed a family where both father and son were notorious as the village's bullies. They were sitting by their door this moment and looked surprised to see them - only them. The elven woman understood what must have transpired when she saw a fresh whipped mark on the fat son's forehead.
She knew the mark well, but how -? She looked down at her little girl who had trouble keeping up. The girl smiled up at her when she caught her mother's gaze. Oh Creators... they almost reached the woods, but she heard shouts behind them.
"There! There! They ran to the woods!"
"Don't let 'em filthy elves get away!"
"Stop, elves!" one of the templars warned, "You cannot escaped the Chantry!"
It was lucky the templars were slowed by their own heavy armors. At the edge of the woods, the elven woman picked her daughter up and disappeared into the thick foliage. She knew this wood well, and trees... were friends of the elvhen. They could shake them off.
The moon was out and lent her light to the forest floor. All seemed quiet except for a few hoot-toots. The mother and daughter dropped themselves softly down from their hiding place amidst the branches. The little girl rubbed her eyes; she was tired from the anxiety of waiting up on the tree, and she missed her cosy bed at home.
The mother carefully picked her way through the woods. When they reached a small clearing, she paused and cocked her head to listen hard, there was a very low hissing of running water her keen elven ear could barely discern.
"Freckled moon -" the girl smiled, pointing above them.
"Yes..." the mother glanced up at the same moon, her feelings very different from her daughter's.
It was cold in the woods, the girl shivered a little. Her mother must be feeling cold too, since she worn only a thin robe that barely covered her knees; at least her own ragged dress was taller than herself, the end dragging on the damp ground. She held tightly to her mother's hand.
Never had a shallow stream with its sparkling water rushing somewhere looked more delightful to the two elves. Scoping the icy water in their hand, they drank to fill their hungry stomach. They did not hear a rustling on the opposite bank.
"Oh water! Thank the Maker!"
"Now, if only He would drop some food for us..."
Three pairs of surprised eyes were matched against two in shock.
"I think the Maker just gave us something better -"
"Ven Lathnenin!"
This time the templars weren't to let their prey escaped them so easily. They quickly surrounded the two elves with their swords and shields drawn, meant to intimidate them into yielding. The daughter despite hearing her mother's urge and very much like to do as she said, her feet froze in place, paralyzed as she watched these maniacal shemlen moving closer.
She had once saw a rabbit corned by its predator, with nowhere to run, but the rabbit stared its fate in the eyes as it towered over them. To the surprise of both her and the predator, the rabbit fought back, but it was already wounded and... it didn't end well. Now, she felt like the rabbit, exhausted and scared. Would she end up like that rabbit if she fought back? She made her hands into fists. The tight clench brought a warmth to her palms, and followed by pain as her nails dug into her flesh.
The templars were tensed, after what they had been through at the elves' house. The elven woman hesitated: she didn't want to invite more trouble by killing the templars, neither would she allow her girl to be taken. Time slowed to a crawl with each of them full on their own thoughts.
"Get the girl!" The eldest templar broke the silence as he sheathed his sword and reached out to apprehend the elven woman.
The girl didn't flinched a bit when one templar grabbed her shoulder. It was the mother who acted. She drew out her dagger from a strap around her thigh, kept hidden by her robe, and swiped at the face of the templar coming for her. The templar jumped back; the attack was too sudden and quick, he wouldn't be able to block in time. The dagger's edge made a irksome scraping sound against the metal armor. When she turned to where the other two templars and her daughter were, she noticed her daughter, changed.
Her skin roughened and wrinkled up like tree bark, and roots and vines sprouted out from the ground attacking anything near the girl, friend and foe alike. The thick roots ensnared moving targets and tightened its grip when they struggled. The thinner vines would lash out relentlessly at the trapped victims. The mother gasped.
The templars were trying to chop at the vines. One of them let out a yelp in frustration when his shield arm was totally tied down by the ever growing roots; the young trainee was hacking more at the air than his intended targets. The eldest templar saw it was useless to cut the roots when they kept regrowing at an incredibly fast speed. From the corner of his eyes, he saw the mutated form of the little girl and knew he had to get her to stop these wild attacks, yet he was the farthest away from the girl.
"The... girl... knock her..." he yelled to his partners.
"Tu'halam! Lathnenin, tu'halam!" At the same moment, the mother called to her daughter to stop the attacks. Except for the few exposed skins, the templars were largely protected by their heavy armors. The thin robe of the elven woman suffered as much as its owner, torn and cut up with trickling blood.
The girl broke out of her trance upon hearing her mother's call. The spell weakened as her concentration broke. She saw her mother was bleeding and cried out in panic, "Mamae!"
The trainee templar, enraged by the three gigantic roots tugging at his legs, and one vine about to lash at his face, he let out a loud cry, emanating a wave of pulsing energy hitting both the elves, throwing them back. The mother fell, laying motionless. The girl hit a tree and slumped to a sitting position, stunned with pain. Last thing she saw was her mother's bloodied body; last words she heard was the templars'.
"Bran! I said knock the girl out. How could you smite them, you could have killed the girl!"
"Look what she did! I think I saved us."
"... Hmm, is the mother dead? She killed her..."
She could only understand two words - 'mother' and 'dead' - then darkness claimed her.