Chapter Two
Atisha dropped the wards around the wagon. Almost immediately there was a banging on her door. She opened it to find Enasalin standing outside, his muscular arms crossed and his long fingers digging into his dark brown skin.
"Who threatened you?" he demanded as he narrowed his deep yellow eyes and glared at Atisha.
"Good morning to you, too, Ena," Atisha answered dryly, moving aside to let him in. "Can I get you something?"
Enasalin stomped into the wagon and slammed the door behind him. His angular jaw line was rigid. He huffed his way to the bed before sitting down roughly with a growl. The air was suddenly thick and the unrest was palpable. A long silence stretched between them while he glared at a spot outside the window.
"Good morning," Enasalin finally grumbled and turned to look at her. "Now, who said what?"
"No one said anything," Atisha assured her brother as she took a seat next to him, exasperated. "I was walking back from my studies and a couple of hunters looked a little too drunk for comfort; so I decided to be safe."
Enasalin continued to glared at Atisha, his full lips curling up into a snarl on one side. "Which ones?"
"I don't remember. They all start to look the same after a few generations. And it was dark."
"Then I'll just question all of them."
"Drop it, Ena. You'll only make things worse." She stopped trying to be nice about it, letting heat enter her voice. "It's been long enough that they just need another reminder of what I'm capable of."
Enasalin continued to glare, but finally broke his gaze and scowled. He didn't stay sitting, either. He pushed off of the bed and began pacing the small area. "They'll ease up if you just get your vallaslin."
Atisha's jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists around her sheets. She closed her eyes as she focused on her breaths, making each one slow and deliberate.
Enasalin's memory was just as short as the other members of the clan. He had renewed the plea for her to take vallaslin just a month before. It had only been three years since the last time, and five years before that. But it was the same arguments every time. This time, he had tried talking to her at least four times a day. What had changed to make him so vehement about it?
She prepared herself mentally. He would be angry, as usual. "How many times do I have to tell you, I will not mark myself?" Atisha reiterated tersely.
"For fuck's sake, Addie!" Enasalin exploded. "Why are you so stubborn? You should be our Keeper, not Istimaethoriel! You keep talking about all of the changes you would make. Get the vallaslin and you could make them. It won't make the hunters like you, but at least they'll respect you. Now it's like you're spitting in their faces. They're talking about exiling you!"
"They always talk about exiling me," Atisha interrupted. She rose from the bed and slowly moved towards Enasalin. "If it isn't the vallaslin, it's something I've said, or some tale that I've questioned, or I corrected one of the elders. It doesn't matter what I do! They will always find a reason to talk about exiling me. I'm not going to compromise my beliefs to make them happy."
Enasalin's fists clenched at his sides and his entire body shook as his eyes narrowed. "How can you call yourself Dalish? Why do you insist on contradicting everything you were raised to believe?"
The first time they had this conversation, Atisha's heart twinged at the confusion in his eyes. It used to pain her to hurt her brother. But after all this time, he still didn't understand that she wouldn't, couldn't change her mind on this. She wanted to scream at him what the tattoos really meant, to shake him until he understood. He wouldn't be offended if he knew that they were slave brands.
But she didn't say anything. She could never bring herself to break his heart.
He wouldn't believe her, anyway.
"I have seen too much of the truth," Atisha finally whispered as she turned her back to him. Tears burned the corner of her eyes. "How can I not question lies?"
"It makes them hate you. It makes you a target. This generation... their worse than their parents, or their parents, or their parents. I don't know what lengths they'll go to."
He was pleading with her now. It was the last of his arguments. Another week and he would drop the subject entirely.
Atisha smirked and shook her head. "You always say that. I don't think you know what lengths the others have gone to."
Sunlight glinted in her eye. She looked out the window and noticed how high the sun had risen. It must have been an hour since she woke and now she was wasting precious daylight: the ruins could be as far as three days away. Atisha walked to the larger trunk and opened it. She proceeded to pull out a knapsack and pack a couple sets of her clothing.
"Are you leaving the clan, then?" Enasalin's voice was strained.
Atisha sighed heavily and rested her hands on the rim of the trunk. She turned her head enough to look at Enasalin out of the corner of her eye. "No," Atisha assured him. "Not for good. I found a reference to a ruin that might be near by. I'm going to see if I can find it. Even if I don't, at least it'll give the hunters a few days to cool off."
"Or plan."
Another silence stretched between them.
Atisha pulled her supple armor out of the chest and put it on over her shift. The dark green leather cuirass easily slipped over her head. The leaf-shaped pauldrons rested lightly on her shoulders. She had cleaned the armor several times, but there was still a whiff of old sweat and peat moss permanently ingrained into it. The back was decorated with a gold leaf Tree of Life, branches stretching up with matching roots stretching down. The front was unadorned but had dark spots at the hips from the oil in her hands.
She ran her hands down the treated leather, stopping on the smooth spots. Her hands weren't the only ones that had created them. More tears threatened escape as she remembered the other hands resting on her body. She smiled as the memories of her late husband Darlen bubbled to the surface. She shivered as she recalled how those hands would slip down from her hips and sneak under the studded leather strips that created the armor's skirt.
Enasalin growled but helped Atisha by strapping the buckles at the sides. He was rough enough that Atisha snapped out of her revery. When it was done, he put his hands on her shoulders and kissed the back of her head. "I'll do what I can to calm the masses while you're gone," he assured her.
Atisha gripped his hand and turned to look at him. "Thank you, Ena. I'll be back in a few days, a couple of weeks at most."
She pulled inks, pens, and a couple of blank notebooks out of the smaller trunk. Not many clans came to this area, so she would need to take detailed notes on everything she came across.
And then hope that the Dalish didn't misinterpret her notes, she thought sourly.
When Atisha stood and turned around, Enasalin was waiting, holding her staff out to her. "Promise me you'll be careful," he beseeched her.
Atisha grabbed her staff, but Enasalin didn't let go. "I promise, Ena," she finally relented.
He held on for several more seconds as he stared her down. He hated it when she went on expeditions by herself. He reluctantly released the staff and moved toward the door. He opened it for her and waited, the pucker still on his face. Atisha smiled at him as she walked out of the wagon, hoping it would alleviate some of his fear. Instead, his frown deepened and his smooth black eyebrows stitched together.
Atisha tried to push her brother and his nagging out of her mind by focusing on the camp, which was just starting to stir.
Crafter Boranehn and his apprentice Halinan shouted to each other across the commons about the day's work. The scouts had found a source of iron bark only a couple of hours away. Boranehn insisted that Halinan practice making a simple bow, but Halinan argued that he was skilled enough to try something more advanced.
Atisha couldn't hear what he suggested because children screamed gleefully as they chased each other around the aravels. She stopped short as they ran past her. Their shrieks rent the air and drowned out all other sounds. It receded as the adults herded them towards the teaching area.
She didn't have time to wonder what muddied tales they would be told today. The smell of roast rabbit wafted through the air and made her belly grumble. Thinking back, she realized that she had missed supper last night. No wonder the rabbit smelled especially good this morning.
She also knew that she would find the Keeper near the fires. She needed to talk to Istimaethoriel about taking supplies for the journey. The last thing she needed was one of the hunters accusing her of stealing food stores.
As she approached, she could see several rabbits hung over the fire in various stages of cooking. She helped herself to some meat off of a finished one, as well as a bowl of oatmeal with some fruit. With breakfast in hand, she began searching for Keeper Istimaethoriel.
It didn't take long to spot the middle aged woman sitting on a bench in front of her aravel. She was having her own bit of food. She seemed wholly focused on her meal, but Atisha could feel the sharp blue eyes following her. Istimaethoriel was not happy about something, and that something involved Atisha.
Atisha grumbled under her breath as she started towards the Keeper. Whatever it was, she hoped the Keeper wouldn't forbid her from taking some salted meat and dried vegetables. She could travel faster the less she had to forage.
Atisha leaned her staff against the wagon before taking a seat next to Istimaethoriel. It didn't take her long to finish off the meat and start on the oatmeal. She was too hungry to start the conversation, and she had no clue why the Keeper was upset with her.
Istimaethoriel gave her a sidelong look, but did not say anything. She finished her own breakfast before Atisha and set her dishes on the bench. Then she leaned back and closed her eyes.
Atisha took her time eating the oatmeal. She wasn't fond of it, but knew she needed the strength. It was better to get a good meal in before she left.
When she finally finished, she stacked her dishes with Istimaethoriel's. She would take them to be washed in a bit.
"The hunters are growing restless," Istimaethoriel finally commented. There was no emotion to it, just a statement of fact.
Atisha waited for the rest of what the Keeper had to say.
"They want to force the vallaslin on you." Her forehead wrinkled and her brows knitted together. The crows feet around her eyes deepened and her thin lips turned down in a pout. "I remember what happened the last time such talk arose. I've tried to dissuade them, but it hasn't worked: the young never learn from the mistakes of their elders."
Atisha sighed and nodded. She wasn't surprised. In fact, she was relieved.
It had been too long since the last confrontation and the tension in the camp had become almost too much to bear.
"I think that there may be some ruins nearby worth investigating," she began. "I was going to set out today to look for them. It'll take at least a few days, possibly a couple of weeks."
Istimaethoriel remained silent and stared off towards the east. "How many hunters do you need?"
"I plan to go alone. I think it will be better for everyone."
"Something we can agree on," Istimaethoriel sighed. She turned to Atisha and examined her from head to toe. "Leaving won't stop the confrontation they seek, but it may delay it. I'll make sure you have enough supplies to last a week, but that's all we can spare."
"I understand. Thank you, Keeper," Atisha replied.
Istimaethoriel stood up and leaned on her staff. Her dark hair was starting to gray at the temples and more lines were appearing on her forehead. She shook her head and clacked her tongue. "I will try to calm them, even if I agree with them. You question our ways. Your lack of vallaslin..."
"I'm going to stop you right there," Atisha interrupted. She rose from her seat and calmly collected her staff. "Enasalin has been repeating the same lecture multiple times a day for the past month. I don't need to hear it again. I am quite aware of how everyone feels about my plain face, and have been since the first time I refused. I came here to let you know that I was going to be gone for a while so you wouldn't send Netalin searching for me. Now, I'm going to get the supplies that I need and then I will be out of your hair."
Atisha tried to remain calm as she walked towards the smokehouse. Hot tears stung the corner of her eyes; but not because of what the Keeper had said. The span between incidents had been longer than normal.
The younger members of the clan usually tried to do something: force vallaslin on her, force themselves on her, or both. Every time it ended the same way.
She displayed her power, reminded them that she was immortal.
It was something they should remember, but memories faded quickly in this clan. Within fifteen to twenty years, the new generation came of age and the cycle would start over.
Most of them minded the stories of Era'Atisha.
Her face is plain, but she is old. She questions our traditions, but she alone holds the most ancient of knowledge. Do not cross her, for she is more powerful than she seems. The wolves themselves obey her every word.
They feared her to some extent and usually tried to avoid her.
Others took it as a challenge. There was always at least one who thought he could tame her and bring her in line.
She could usually pick them out once they started going on the hunting parties. They would come back with their prizes held high, shouting at the top of their lungs about how brave they were. If she was at the fires, they would try to catch her eye and stare her down.
None had ever succeeded, but it let her know which ones to watch out for.
Next came the snide comments and childish names. Flat ear and Asha'alas were the most common ones. They weren't exactly imaginative.
Then came the threats: whispered warnings as she ate, dead animals left in front of her aravel, and blood smeared on her door. Once she had come back from an expedition to find her wagon ransacked. They had even been kind enough to leave a stool sample on her pillow.
Atisha always ignored them. It had been hard at first; but the years had shown her that it was the best course of action to take.
She had tried confronting them once, before she knew that she would live longer than normal. It had escalated quickly and one of the hunters was severely wounded.
It was the closest the elders had ever come to actually banishing her.
Since then she had let the hunters make the first move. She couldn't be condemned for protecting herself.
But the confrontation usually came before she got this frustrated with them. Leaving camp was as much for her own piece of mind as it was for theirs.
Inside the smokehouse she wrapped portions of dried meat and vegetables and thought about staying away for longer. She wanted to leave entirely, to escape the angry stares and judgmental whispers, but she had made a promise to Asha'belannar.
It wasn't wise to go back on a promise to the Witch of the Wilds.
She clenched her jaw and finished putting the wrapped food in her bag along with all of the utensils she would need.
Preparing for the journey soothed her a little. It meant that she was getting out from under the tension, that she would have some freedom, even if it was only for a few days.
The sense of calm quickly dissipated as she left camp.
Some of the hunters gathered to watch her. They whispered to each other as she passed, their lips curling up in snarls and scowls.
She knew those looks all too well.
Like the generations before them, they were planning how best to tame her. They would probably try it while she was out of camp.
Atisha continued on. She pretended that she hadn't noticed them. Instead, she kept her eyes on the path ahead of her and her steps were strong and sure as she entered the forest, not looking back at the Dalish camp.
She was no fool, though. She was going to have to watch her back.