Maker Be My Guide

By R2s Muse

A/N: Submitted for the Dragon Age: Asunder Creative Writing Challenge (yes, this is a re-post - argh, don't ask!)

Disclaimer: Dragon Age, its characters and the Chant of Light belong to Bioware.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide," Tamsin quoted under her breath. She had little hope, however, that the Maker would actually show up to lead her out of the wood in which she had become hopelessly lost.

She wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry that her first assignment as a new Templar recruit had gone so poorly. The routine mission to search the wood for a rogue apostate had soon resulted in her separation from her unit, followed by walking in endless circles. Eventually she had given up her wandering and settled beside a brook to think through her bearings.

Listening to the murmuring of the water, she suddenly thought she heard a voice. Hopeful yet cautious, she crept silently forward along the bank until she found the source.

Standing at the edge of the brook were two deer. A doe nuzzled a small fawn that tried to limp to the water for a drink while painfully holding its back leg up off the ground at an awkward angle. But, what made her catch her breath was the sight of a man, kneeling before them and beckoning them closer.

He had raven black hair and warm amber eyes that sparkled with good humor. The small crinkles at their corners suggested he smiled often. He murmured nonsense in an attempt to soothe the creatures, which had been the sound she'd heard. She noticed that the knee of his trousers was soaked in mud where he knelt close to the brook's edge, but he didn't seem to care, focused as he was on the fawn slowly tottering toward his outstretched hand.

Tamsin was overcome with wonder and found she was holding her breath as she watched the fawn's progress, mesmerized by the intensity and warmth that seemed to emanate from the man.

The murmuring changed, becoming both more and less distinct, and the man's outstretched fingers turned subtly in a half-circle. Then there was a flash of green over the fawn's leg which startled both deer into immediately running off. The fawn, however, was now running easily on all four legs, healed.

Magic! She felt her blood start to thud in her ears as she realized that he was a mage, perhaps even the apostate they were searching for. She wasn't sure if she should be afraid.

As she tried to decide what to do, the man turned his head and looked straight at her where she hid in the foliage. She gasped and felt rooted to the spot.

"Thank you for not scaring them away," he said in his warm voice. He stood up slowly, revealing a solidly built frame clothed in a simple tunic, trousers and traveling cloak. No robes or staff, like she'd been told to expect. Didn't he know how a mage was supposed to dress?

"Who are you?" she demanded, hoping she didn't sound scared herself.

He seemed to look straight through her for a moment, then he smiled, eyes crinkling merrily at the corners as she'd expected. "Jen."

"What are you doing out here?"

"Just passing through."

"Are you an apostate?" she heard herself ask.

"No." He said the word without inflection, but his eyes crinkled again.

"But, I saw you use magic to help those deer."

"Yes."

"But . . . you're outside the Circle, so you must be an apostate."

He shrugged. "I'm a man. Nothing more." His eyes danced, almost as if he was laughing at her.

Breathing a silent prayer to Andraste, she squared her shoulders, stepped through the brush that separated them, and drew her sword. She swallowed, marshaling her courage. "In the name of the Templar Order, you are under arrest for the unauthorized use of magic outside the Circle."

He stayed still, but his smile grew. "You're arresting me." Strangely, it was a statement, not a question. But she answered anyway.

"Yes. You will come with me," she said sternly.

He chuckled at this. "And, where to, little Templar?"

She bristled at the moniker, but then hesitated as she remembered that she was lost. Great, now what?

He burst out laughing when he saw her come to this realization, the pleasant sound unexpectedly soothing her pique. "I've been watching you tramp around out here in circles for the past hour or more. You're lost."

She flushed, unable to deny it, and felt her cheeks burning in mortification. "I'm sure I will still find my way."

"I'm sure," he murmured, watching her for a beat, then smiling again. "Well, let's get going, then," he said, catching her off guard.

"What?"

"It looks like I'll be guiding you out of the wood. Unless you'd rather stay here . . .?"

"But, why would you help me?"

His eyes crinkled again in amusement, like he was still laughing at her. "Are you any less deserving of help than those deer?"

"But . . . I'm a Templar."

"So it seems."

"But, I'm going to arrest you!" she blurted. Is he an idiot?

His eyes narrowed slightly at this, measuring. "So it seems," he repeated softly.

She didn't know what to say to this. She did need help. But she also didn't want to put herself at his mercy, led further astray or worse. Weighing her options and recalling his kindness with the deer, she decided she didn't have much to lose.

"Very well," she said grudgingly. "Thank you."

Striding confidently ahead of her, agilely navigating the rough landscape, he seemed at home in the woods. If she hadn't seen him use magic, she would have taken him for some local woodsman. Suddenly it occurred to her that he easily could have avoided discovery.

"Why did you heal the fawn?" she finally asked.

He stopped, letting her catch up, and then walked beside her. "It was injured."

"But, you knew I was there. You knew I would see you."

"Is my own well-being more important than his? If I can help, then should I not?"

She frowned at this, wondering if he was being serious. "What if I said yes, that the risk wasn't worth it."

"I think the fawn would disagree with you." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a crooked grin.

"Not if the fawn had been to the Gallows to see where you're heading," she retorted, annoyed that he seemed to be laughing at her again.

"Is how you treat mages in Kirkwall so very terrible, then?"

"Um . . . Erm. No? I don't really know, to be honest. You're . . . the first mage I've actually met. I . . . I just imagine that losing your freedom might be . . . difficult."

"Hmm, but I hear the Circle is supposed to be a peaceful refuge of training and scholarship." His eyes crinkled up again as he watched her.

"Now I know you're laughing at me," she grumbled.

"I wouldn't laugh at you, little Templar. I am just . . . curious about you."

"Well, don't be."

They walked in silence for the next several minutes.

"Tamsin."

"Pardon me?"

"My name. It's Tamsin. Not little Templar."

"All right then, Tamsin, how long have you been with the Order?"

"Six months," she replied, biting her lip.

"So long?" More silent laughter.

"Long enough! How long have you been a mage?" she threw at him without thinking.

His face stilled for a moment. "All my life, little Templar," he said softly. "You don't get much of a choice in that."

She flushed again, realizing what she'd said. He must think her a fool.

"Where are you from?" she asked instead.

"Here and there," he evaded, glancing at her sidelong.

She looked down, disappointed that he was toying with her again.

"Crane's Landing. A village just to the east of here," he finally said with a small frown.

"Is it . . . nice there?" She groaned inwardly at her awkwardness, surprised at how nervous she felt around him. It's because he's an apostate, she decided, although a second, quieter thought suggested that it might be his smile.

"It's very peaceful. Or, so I remember it."

"You don't live there now?"

"I move around a lot these days." A thought suddenly clouded his bright eyes and she found herself wondering what it might be as they eyed each other curiously.

A deep growl broke them out of their reverie and they stopped. Tamsin heard crashing through the brush and then a gigantic grizzly bear rounded an outcropping of rock. It spread its mouth wide, long teeth glinting, and gave a deafening roar.

She drew her sword, gripping it tightly in trepidation, but she knew she was out of her depth.

When the bear moved toward them, Jen immediately threw her behind him, which struck her as odd since she was the one wearing plate armor.

"We've come too near its den," he said tensely, then looked at her over his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

Without thinking, she nodded. He then raised his hands above his head, took a deep breath, and then starting murmuring as he brought his arms down in a large circle. Next thing she knew, he was shimmering and in his place appeared a second bear, larger than the first. Rearing up on its hind legs, it roared its challenge.

The two bears then came together like a clap of thunder, fighting in a ferocious tangle of slicing claws and snapping teeth. She scrambled back out of the way, tripping over a rock in the process and tumbling to the ground where she stayed, mouth agape, watching the unusual battle ensue.

It didn't take long for the first bear to realize it was outmatched and soon it loped away. The second bear then turned and shambled over to her.

It was then she noticed the bleeding scores across its shoulder. Wide-eyed, she held her breath and tried to remain perfectly still as the lumbering animal sank to its knees before her then laid its massive head in her lap. The air shimmered again and then Jen was lying across her legs, breathing raggedly and bleeding through several long rents across the shoulder and chest of his tunic.

He looked up at her, giving her again that warm smile that crinkled his eyes before he closed them.

"Jen!" she cried in agitation. She leaned over him protectively, clasping his uninjured arm.

His eyes opened again slowly. "No need to worry, little Templar," he said with a tired smile, reaching up to brush his fingertips along her cheekbone. "Just . . . let me . . . rest." Then he was asleep, head pillowed on her Templar skirting.

She watched over him in concern, listening to his breathing and counting his heartbeats, but started to relax when his wounds began to heal slowly on their own. Like he was healing them unconsciously in his sleep, connected as he was to the Fade.

Reassured, she could now allow herself to be curious, studying him. Even with his eyes shut, he seemed slightly amused, his expressive lips tilted up slightly at the corners. She gently brushed his dark hair back where it tumbled across his forehead and noticed a small scar running across one eyebrow. She wondered if it was from before he had manifested his healing magic.

Now that she'd met an apostate, she couldn't really understand the concern. He was a man. Only . . . more.

Hearing Knight-Captain Cullen and Ser Thrask talk about mages, she had gotten the impression that her job was to protect and defend them. But, the other knights, like Ser Alrik and Ser Karras, made it sound like mages were to be reviled for being tainted by sin in the eyes of the Maker.

Watching Jen and seeing how protective she felt, she decided Cullen and Thrask had the right of it. But, she wondered now if she could bring herself to confine him to the Circle. Away from the wood where he seemed so at home. So free.

She wasn't sure how long he slept but at one point she looked down and he was watching her. She colored at the scrutiny, even though she'd been doing very much the same thing a few moments earlier.

He smiled. "It will be getting dark soon. I'd better get you out of here."

They didn't speak as they strode quickly through the wood, trying to outpace the setting sun. She was confused by the strange feeling that her time was somehow running out.

Suddenly he stopped, cocking his head to the side and hearing the rustle and clank of the approaching unit of Templar before she did. Then he turned the full focus of his attention on her, warm eyes crinkling up in that way she liked. "I've enjoyed our time today, Tamsin. I hope you find what you're looking for." Then he surprised her by taking her hand and pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles.

She blushed, not sure what to say. Then it was too late and she spun around as the Templars entered the clearing.

"There you are, Tamsin! Where the hell have you been?" Lieutenant Willard cried. "That apostate is still out here somewhere. We thought he might have gotten to you before we did."

Unexpectedly, her heart clenched in fear. "But, Ser . . ." She turned back to the clearing, but it was now empty. Jen was gone.

"But, what, Recruit? Get back in formation!" Willard barked.

Her eyes darted around the clearing, simultaneously feeling relieved, anxious and a bit . . . forlorn. Then, with a final searching look at the surrounding wood, she fell in line with her unit.

ooXXoo

"Are you certain you wish to resign your commission, Tamsin?" Knight-Captain Cullen asked again. "As a new recruit, it is of course your prerogative to leave the Order without recrimination. But, I've been told you show quite a bit of promise. We would be honored to have you among our ranks." He gave her a warm smile that typically had her and half the female recruits swooning. But not today.

"Thank you, Ser, but I am resolved. It is no reflection on my time with the Order. It just seems that . . . I may not be as suited to it as I once imagined."

"As you wish. Maker guide your steps, Tamsin Leland." He stood and shook her hand firmly.

Leaving the Gallows behind her, she reached into her pocket and smiled again as she felt the small, folded paper crane which had been mysteriously delivered to her that morning with no note or explanation.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide," she murmured when she reached the city gate. She immediately set off to the east, belongings bundled on her back, and wondered idly how long it would take her to reach Crane's Landing.

Fin

A/N: I've also posted a very short prelude to this story, called Tamsin, which introduces Tamsin and features a bit more Cullen.