JUST BEFORE DAWN
The Nightingale
A sudden gust of wind, finding its way into the Chantry made the candles' flames flicker and hiss as they bent under the wintry touch. The building was quiet that early in the morning, Haven's denizens fast asleep as the velvet black of the night gave way unwillingly to the approaching dawn.
Some called it the Witching Hour, as the sky turned a paler shade of black, but not quite gray and it was maybe the only time in Haven when activity was all but stopped.
I preferred to visit the chapel at this time, for I found, after a few moments of quiet contemplation, I could better focus on the tasks at hand.
I stopped abruptly on my way to Andraste's statue however, as the same wind that had made the flames dance, brought the whisper of a prayer to my ears.
Who would brave the snow and the chill at this hour, to offer devotions?
I softened my steps, edging warily from shadow to shadow, afraid to disturb the soul seeking solace in meditation and yet irresistibly drawn forward by an unseen force, a pull like that which makes an object fall to the ground.
I halted, half hidden, behind the last column prior to the altar.
Leandra.
My breath half caught in my throat, hissing between my lips in a sigh of escaped surprise before I could press them together and I fervently prayed she hadn't heard.
"Maker," she was reciting, kneeling, head low, arms set across her chest, palms turned to her bosom as it sometimes used in the Free Marches, "my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me."
I stepped forward, compelled by the force of the conviction I felt in her voice. My lips parted and i lost myself in the familiar words, heard so many times in my time at Lothering and etched into my heart.
"Though all before me is shadow," my voice joined in, echoing hers, "Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."
We let the quiet of the Chapel envelop us, and I felt myself drifting closer to her than ever before. I closed my eyes, memories of Kyra threatening to engulf me. We had used to pray like this many times before battle.
Why do you remind me of her so? I wanted to ask.
Again I tried to strengthen the walls I had so carefully constructed around myself, never to touch, to feel again so close to another.
I had so sworn that fateful day as I held the lifeless body of my beloved close to my chest and screamed my anguish to the heavens, full of grief as the rest of Ferelden rejoiced around me.
Is it really what you want, Leliana? I asked myself. If I was being honest, the nights had gotten more and more lonely, the solitude hard to bear and the absence of a companion keenly felt in the moments when I faltered and strayed from my course. I had felt myself growing desperate and the pain of unshed tears had become harder to hide as my bed grew colder and colder.
"Leliana," her voice was a gentle caress, my name spoken in such a way I could feel the emotion behind it. Still, maybe mine was naught but wishful thinking. She stood, this woman that, for the life of me, I still could not figure out, and she turned towards me.
"I hope I did not intrude," I murmured as she approached.
"Not at all," she smiled then bent down to recover a bundle I had not noticed, enticed as I had been by her. She quickly undid the strings holding it together and it turned out to be a cloak, containing her weapons. As she busied herself with fastening her sword belt, I could take my time in studying her.
Leandra's eyes caught the light in the most peculiar way, the blue so deep it seemed to glow from within. I was close enough to pick out the flecks of gold around her irises even as her gaze was drawn downward to what she was doing.
Such peculiar eyes.
I had never seen eyes like hers before, in such an unremarkable face. Pretty nonetheless, but normal enough it would easily get lost in a crowd.
Except for those eyes.
They completely transformed her, made her beautiful. I swallowed, suddenly conscious of the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Going somewhere?" I realised she had been studying me in return, taking in the fact I too was armed and had eschewed the mauve cloak I usually wore for a forest green one.
"I thought I would accompany the scouts I assigned you to Redcliffe, " I carefully said, as we started walking towards the Chantry's doors.
I stole a glance at her face, gauging her reaction.
"Oh?" She had raised an eyebrow and a slight smile was playing on her lips. "What happened to your people being your eyes on the field? "
I shrugged, returning the smile, "figured I would take a look at these rebel Mages for myself."
She made a noncommittal sound and held the door open for me. Early morning light spilled into the building and i could take a better look at her equipment. She wore a sword on each hip, wicked things with well worn leather hilts. One was noticeably shorter than the other, more of a broad bladed dagger, judging by the shape of the sheath, than a sword proper. My interest piqued as, from those weapons, I recognised she must have been trained in the duelists' school of swordfight. That style was still fairly used in Orlais, especially to settle disputes at Court, but the best duelist I had ever met, lay dead by my own hand.
Marjolaine had been a cruel, unfeeling fighter. She had delighted in toying with her adversaries, but somehow I could not see Leandra being the same. Her armor was mostly leather, with mail inserts on the joints and chest and metal plates over her shoulders and shins. The metal had been dulled with dirt to reduce its glint and her cloak was a motley ensemble of patches to mimic the color patterns of woodland.
Outside, a small group had gathered, to the jingle of harness and the swearing that usually accompanied last minute preparations.
Cassandra walked briskly towards us, her jaw grimly set.
"I do not like what you have in mind Leandra. Not one bit." She seemed to bite off every word.
"You don't have to like it, Seeker. Besides, may I remind you that you agreed to this no later than last night?"
Cassandra pressed her lips together, but appeared slightly mollified when she continued:
"Cullen would still like to send more men."
Leandra chuckled. "I am sure he'd round up a whole company given half the chance. That's why we are leaving so bloody early." She turned her gaze towards the small band now orderly arranged in two neat files of horse, "the Chargers will be enough."
I cleared my throat to get their attention.
"Either of you care to explain?"
Leandra nodded and I saw a change come over her. She is a born leader, I realized as she beckoned Iron Bull and his lieutenant Cremisius over with a curt gesture.
"Your scout leader?"
I nodded, motioning discreetly for Scout Harding to join our little group.
"Harding!" Leandra's face broke into a wide grin, "long time no see!"
The dwarven woman laughed "you never write anymore ma'am. "
"You wound me, Harding, deeply so."
I felt a pang of jealousy at the easy camaraderie.
Don't be an idiot, Leliana. I chided myself.
The Herald reached down to a small leather case strapped to her thigh and pulled out a tightly rolled parchment.
"Our work in the Hinterlands has dampened down the fighting between rogue Mages and Templars considerably," she began, spreading the map out for all to see, "the area around the Crossroads is pretty much secure," she turned to Cassandra, "Seeker, if you will?"
"There is still some Templar activity further west, but it should be of no consequence. I have ordered some of our forces to increase the patrols in that direction, which should keep the rebel knights out of our hair, so to speak."
"The Chargers will take the Redcliffe road up to the town's walls," Leandra resumed, "Cassandra is officially acting as the Inquisition's agent sent to parley with the Mages,"
"You don't want them to know you are taking a direct interest, " I said slowly.
The Seeker nodded.
"Not until she is inside the walls."
"That is why we," Leandra's gaze seemed to linger on me, but I told myself she was including the Scout as well, "will parallel the main force's route through the woods."
"And send any trouble our way," Iron Bull's grin was that of a wolf among sheep.
"Hopefully there will be none," Leandra replied, before briskly rolling up the map and walking to her mount.
I followed, as the others dispersed and grabbed her arm before she could hoist herself onto the saddle.
"You suspect foul play," it was not a question.
"I always do." My grip tightened involuntarily, but this time she did not pull herself away.
"If you do, why go at all?" I challenged, "you have people that would gladly go in your stead."
Me included.
She shook her head, then not unkindly grasped my hand and moved it so she could swing up on her horse.
Not to be denied so easily, I held onto her stirrup.
She sighed wearily, "we all do what we must, yes? This is my duty and I will not shied from it."
I held her gaze, one more question burning on my lips, doubt heavy in my heart.
"Why was I not consulted?" My voice was laced with anger as I put my fear into words, "do you not trust my counsel?"
Her face was painted over with shock, almost horrified at the suggestion.
She didn't realise how it all would look? I mused, surprised myself. Part of me wanted to slap her.
"I feel some of my past remarks may have caused offence, Leliana," her tone almost timid, "that is why I submitted my plan to the Seeker and Commander Cullen, but not you."
Leandra bent down then, her hand outstretched before she could check herself. She let her arm drop.
It had almost looked like she had been about to cup my face. I couldn't honestly say I would have minded.
"Believe me when I say that I trust you so, I would place my life in your hands." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes full of sadness. Or was it longing?
You would like that, wouldn't you.
I stared, taken aback by her bluntness. I realized my grip on her saddle had grown so tight a dull ache was spreading down my arm.
"We need to talk," I closed my eyes for a moment, my own whisper choked with emotion. About what? How she reminded me of a dead lover? How I ached for contact and yet abhorred the idea of letting someone close again? It felt however, I could not keep the maelstrom of emotions inside any longer. As I uttered those words, a tension that had been there for weeks and I had so far tried to ignore seemed to find its release.
"We do," her gaze hadn't wavered from me, "let us deal with the Mages and then we will."
She spurred her horse forward then, and I had no choice but to follow.