They set out a few minutes passed noon. Keela is an arrow aimed at their target's heart as she takes them straight through the harsh mountains. They travel the many hours in mostly silence, taking few breaks, and it's not until they can see the Dales far below do they begin to slow. She tugs her hood close to her face as wind sweeps cold and bitter through the passes, but she will weather whatever she must to see this through. Cassandra still sits high within the saddle, but Dorian slumps with a grimace behind his mustache.
"Dorian, it's not too late to return-"
"No, no, just reminiscing about how you take me to the most marvelous of places. I forgot how wonderful it is to trudge through the bitter mountains atop a great, drooling beast." His mount flicks his mane back and forth in protest.
"Are you all right, Cole?"
The spirit stares at the head of his Ferelden steed. "She wants to run free through the mountains. It smells like home. But there might be treats where they're going. She likes the oats seeped with something sweet."
Keela lets out a little laugh, rubbing a hand down the neck of her hart. "Let's get a little further down and out of the wind before we make camp for the night. Then she can have all the treats she wants."
They travel until the sun dips behind the horizon and make camp tucked within the mountain. The plains are just within reach, perhaps a half a day's ride until flowing grass replaces dirt and stone. Keela takes her time combing the stains of travel from her mount's fur before grabbing a bowl of Cassandra's soup. It settles warm within and mixes with the exhaustion already clinging. Sleep did not come easily, as she guessed. Expelling so much of her power the day before did little to help as well.
Keela all but crawls into the tent as soon as Cassandra manages to pound the last stake into the ground. The Seeker does not mention her little effort to assist, merely slides her bedroll inside and begins unclasping the multitude of pieces to her armor. Keela only bothers removing her outer robe before plummeting into her favorite blanket.
"Inquisitor?" Cassandra says just as sleep is about to take her away.
Keela moans into her pillow. "Yes?"
"I am...not very skilled at these sorts of things. But if you should wish to discuss anything, please know I will do my best to listen. I feel responsible for what has happened. I was the one to vouch for the apostate. If I had known-"
"That is enough," Keela growls. "There is only one person to blame for any of this. But, I suppose, if he could fool you with his sincerity, then it makes me feel a little better about myself."
"Yes, how reassuring," Cassandra says with a small amount of grumbling.
Keela closes her eyes and listens to the fire dying outside. Wind sweeps by in short bursts to rustle against the side of the tent and she feels the same inside, rippling and shaking with what is to come. Her last time sharing a tent with Cassandra dances across her closed lids. The cooling sand of the Oasis is a sweet balm against the still burning wound in her ribs. A Venatori sword cut through her, almost severing her from the world until Solas pulls her from the edge. If she listens closely, she can hear his broken scream, her name a desperate prayer on his lips. I feared you were lost, he whispers, breath warm on her skin.
But she is lost and not sure how to find her way back to home again. Keela shifts her face against the pillow and looks towards her sleep mate. "Is this like any of the stories you've read?"
Cassandra takes her time before replying. "I may have read a tale or two of lovers torn by secrets. The truth comes out regardless, one way or another. In every book, there is always something to keep them apart, that eventually is responsible for bringing them together. Most stories end with understanding and forgiveness if love is true."
"And if it's not?"
Cassandra shifts away, sniffing. "I do not read those types of tales."
Keela laughs and settles back to sleep. If only it were that easy.
On their fourth day of travel, their quiet companionship is broken by a piercing scream. Keela doesn't hesitate to turn the hart towards the sound with the others trailing behind. The plains have slowly melted away to be replaced by green growing up the tall limbs of trees and rolling across the land in waves. When Keela can see a group of people ahead she jumps from her steed and jogs the rest of the way to find cover.
Men in armor surround a stopped cart with living cargo while a line of shackled figures trails behind. Keela can see what caused the commotion. One of the chained members has fallen, most likely exhausted. Soldiers push and pull at the defenseless elf, while the girl next to him is held back by uncaring hands.
"Leave him be!" she screams. The lines of Andruil curl about her face and make her fury all the more potent.
"No good knife ears," a slaver spits as he yanks the fallen to his feet. "Get moving! There's no breaks 'til sundown."
"Slavers," Cassandra murmurs next to Keela. "With all the rifts open in this area, they were not as present as before. Now they are a much larger problem again."
"I thought Celene promised to hunt them down?"
"I thought so as well."
Anger boils within Keela. So many of them are of her blood. There could be a whole clan trapped within that cage, parceled and packaged to sell to Tevinter with a bow. She sees every Lavellan kin lost in their faces, pieces on a board sacrificed with no thought and little gain. How many more will suffer for the sake of another? She will allow this no longer.
"They are mine," she snarls and leaps down towards the group. Cassandra whispers fiercely at her back, but Keela throws her hand back to demand they remain.
Two slavers see her approach and unsheathe their weapons. "Stop right there!"
Keela obeys, spreading her fingers at her sides to show she holds no weapon. Her staff remains at her back, forgotten. Every eyes swings to watch her movements, some alert and curious, others amused.
"Well they're making it easy for us now. Maybe we should just set up shop and let the mongrels come to us."
A man on horseback trots from the front of the line and faces Keela. In his eyes she can see cunning calculation and watches as he sweeps from her to the trees beyond. By the way the others look to him, he must be their leader. She will save him for last then. "State your business."
"The law is quite clear what is to be done with slavers in these lands. Release these people now and I will consider granting you a merciful death."
For a moment there is stillness until laughter sings between the trees and blades of grass. Yet the leader remains still, his eyes analyzing hers. "Who are you?" he asks when his men have quieted.
"My name is Keela Lavellan, but I'm sure you may know me better as the Inquisitor."
Their laughter and jeers quit and they turn eyes toward their leader. Keela watches his gaze cycle through many thoughts – Is she truly alone? Could the rumors be true? There are twelve of us, surely she cannot best that many. She would make a prize worth more than a hundred slaves.Keela can't help the smile that tugs at the corner of her mouth as she watches greed win above all other concerns.
"Take her, alive if you can!"
Keela opens her palm and feels the mark burst to life within her grasp. Its power soaks into her skin, tingles through her nerves. She throws her hand out to the two approaching men and the smell of ozone burns her nose. A rift opens beneath their feet and for one second they hover there, eyes going wide, before they fall into nothingness. Keela closes the rift and sentences them to whatever fate awaits in the Fade. The remaining soldiers pause, alarmed, but she does not wait for them.
Demons hover against the Veil. They have called to her all her life, but the power that surges through her will not submit. She calls to them now. Two rifts open around one man and a Pride demon's arms latch on to rip him apart with chuckling glee. Another rift opens above a group of soldiers and a Terror demon drops among them, claws painting the grass red. She flings a few more holes into the Beyond and watches as demons strike against her enemy with precision, never straying close to the captives even once.
When there are only a few remaining, a flick of the wrist sends the demons slipping back into the rifts before they close. Keela lifts her hand high into the air and baths the world in light as the power of the anchor collects above their heads. Whatever soldiers remain are caught within its gras[ and are slowly drawn into the swirling mass above. Their anguished faces burn into her memory, but she only feels a calm purpose and doesn't stop until only the prisoners and the captain remain.
Keela drops her hand and the power snaps out with a loud crack. She is a wolf licking her lips at fallen prey as she approaches. His horse long since fled, abandoning him on the ground to watch his men disappear. Blood not his own covers half his arm and Keela doesn't care to guess what mess of a man lays nearby. She keeps her eyes on his and stops when he is close enough to kiss her boots.
"You should have taken my offer," she says.
"What…what are you?"
Keela lifts her eyes to the captives. Elvhen eyes gaze at her, most too shocked to do anything but stare while some wear looks of horror. Mingled among them, however, is a fire quickly catching and it burns in her veins.
"Revolution."
She opens a rift within him. She does not look away as he collapses in upon himself, skin ripping and blood pouring. She does not drown out his scream of agony or shy away as he reaches for her. He cannot touch her. When it is over, she closes the rift and then sends ice along the heavy chain connecting the prisoners. With a snap of her fingers it shatters into thousands of pieces.
Keela glances down at her hands. The mark glows quietly in her palm and spots of blood decorate her like bleeding freckles. She touches them, smearing red across her skin as she does.
"Inquisitor…"
Keela is not surprised by Cassandra's wary look. Dorian lags even farther behind, brows knitting together and hand wrapped around his staff tight enough to turn his knuckles white. Cole materializes at her side and she catches his eyes. For a moment she fears to see something harsh in them, but they are calm, understanding. Like she didn't just open up the Fade and summon demons to do her biding.
"They are scared of you, but there is hope too. They need something soft to make it stick."
"Are you really the Inquisitor?"
Keela turns to face the crowd. It is the girl with Andruil's vallaslin that speaks, feet cautious but eyes curious. Keela takes Cole's advice and makes herself small, bending down to crouch in the grass with the pretense of wiping her hands. She gives them a warm smile, pulling back the storm clouds in her eyes to something she hopes will soothe.
"Yes."
"They said you were powerful, but I've never seen such magic before. You're…" The girl shakes her head and Keela cannot blame her. She is not sure herself if there are words to describe what she has done. "I thought you were Dalish?"
"I am."
"So the rumors are true that you removed it," says another. It belongs to the older elf once under the slaver's heel. His gray eyes trace over her bare face. "Mythal'enaste, I did not believe it could be done."
The elves step closer to her while the few humans collect together by the cart. Keela watches as Cassandra and Dorian shift closer to them and offer aid.
"What should we do now?" a voice asks in the crowd.
"Go back to your clans, your cities. Or there are Inquisition strongholds all around Thedas where you would be welcome."
"They talk about you in Halamshiral. How you're the reason Briala can whisper in the Empress' ear. It's been different since then," an unmarked elf her age says, eyes suspicious. "Why would a Dalish care for anyone but their own?"
Keela stands before addressing them again. "Did it make much of a difference where you came from, huddled within that cage? I do not care if you walk the lonely path or not, it does not make you any less my kin. Our separation has brought us nothing but their chains. Come, let us help you prepare."
It takes a good hour to help the victims be on their way. Some remain behind to rest while most filter through the trees back towards their homes, some towards the nearest Inquisition keep.
"What should we say happened here?" they ask before parting ways.
Keela glances at their faces and sees the burning Exalted Plains, remembers when Solas took her dream walking among the graceful palaces of Halamshiral before they were replaced by others with no soul. She can feel the tears she cried when first stepping into the Emerald Graves, so alive and so broken at the same time. Her path has lacked purpose as of late, but in their eyes she finds it renewed. "The truth. Tell them the truth. And tell them….tell them Ar ena'tu Elvhen."
"Inquisitor, we must talk," Cassandra says when they've put a few miles of distance between the caravan and their party. "How…what you did back there, how did you know it could be done?"
"I didn't."
"Your power has been growing stronger since we closed the last rift. I can practically hear it buzzing around you like a swarm of bees," Dorian says. "You're not even a little bit drained, are you?"
"No." If anything she feels stronger. "I'm fine. I feel…fine."
"Fine she says. Nothing about this is fine! You called demons out of the Fade like they were obedient hounds."
"And you wake the dead to do your biding," Keela replies.
"I…how are you not bothered by this?"
She shrugs a shoulder. The idea of it hovers just beyond the edge of her thoughts and if she concentrates on it too much she fears the insanity that will emerge. "I am, but there are only a few rift mages in Thedas. My trainer is…special, and Solas certainly had a habit of befriending beings from the Beyond. Perhaps this is merely a part of it no one has yet experienced? Was there a moment you felt I was out of control?"
"No, but this is hardly normal. By all accounts it should be impossible."
"What was it that Varric said? She is known for the impossible," Cassandra says and lets out a sigh. "I must admit I am somewhat concerned about this development, but I trust you, Inquisitor. I also trust that you will let us know the moment it becomes an issue. We will have another discussion about this."
"Yes, of course."
They ride on, but now their silence is burdened with what has transpired. Cole's horse presses close enough to feel the heat off her brown coat.
"Go ahead, but be quiet about it."
"Chains, gripping tight to past and future, crippling, choking. A map, tokens of war and peace spread before you. You hold one tight, powerful and powerless to stop their blood from spreading. It must end. Ar ena'tu Elvhen. I will make the people rise. You worry what you will become to make it true."
Keela thinks about the slavers within her grip, their leader pulling apart at her command. The mark hums quietly within her palm, no longer just a companion but a piece of her like all the others. There is no discernable difference between its magic and her own now.
Demons follow her, sliding against the Veil as they move through the growing forest. She can sense them easily now and they do not call out to her in malice, no longer taunt with promises. She feels instead curiosity, an eagerness that they do not understand themselves. She should feel disgusted by the carnage she committed, afraid of this growing power surging within and what she is becoming. But she doesn't and that worries her more than anything.
Cole leans closer, voice barely above a whisper. "You're not a monster. Not yet."
Rift Mage Spell: Master of the Void - Summon a level 17 demon for 15s. Activation 50 mana, Cooldown 42s. ;)