Chapter 4: The Dawn will Come

-Well, isn't it nice to see how despair brings all of us together?- Dorian had said on his way out, absolutely tired of hearing her counselors brawl, which had escalated in the last minutes to the point that they yelled at each other even when they agreed on something.

The Herald had dressed and donned Cullen's coat over her own clothes, taking the time to bury her face in the mane and breathe deeply to enjoy that scent that was only his, before she had intended to join them to see if she could bring some senses into this, but Mother Giselle had stopped her, claiming her presence (especially hers) would not be productive. She said their argument was about what the survivors had witnessed. Apparently, her miraculous escape had become another reason to strengthen the hope of the people, believing she had died and come back, all thanks to the mercy of the Maker and the blessing of Andraste.

That is hard to accept, no? What "we" have been called to endure? What "we", perhaps, must come to believe? The Revered Mother had asked. Yes, it was hard, almost impossible; more so if she were to think that some of that faith in her had a little truth to it. Andraste had chosen her? Why? She was not special, in fact the Conclave had been filled with candidates far more capable than her. Maker! The Divine had been slain there, and yet she survived! And even when she believed in the Maker and her bride, in their guidance and compassion, in their power, she could not believe it had been the prophet herself that had somehow given her the power to stop all this, or the strength to overcome Haven's fall.

I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old God of the Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers.

Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was empty.

She had voiced her fears from when she heard Corypheus say those words to the old woman. What if the Black City was in fact empty? What would that mean for them? And if it was true, where did her mark and the power of Corypheus really come from? Mother Giselle of course had been adamant; her faith never faulted. She was confident that not only she was the Herald of Andraste, but that they should feed the beliefs people had regarding her, even if that meant they would think she came back from the dead just by divine grace.

To say she did not like it was an understatement. She was not comfortable deceiving the people, using their faith to her advantage. She had always thought faith was a gift some people had, a balm to calm their anguish, and had despised those that used that to bend their will to match their goals. And, more or less, that was what Mother Giselle was asking her to do, to encourage them to believe something she did not know was actually true. She had told the Mother she was not sure what to believe anymore, and therefore she was unable to incentivize them to do so.

She had waited for a new wave of scripture quotes, or a whole rant about what the Maker had lain upon her road, but instead, Mother Giselle had sung. She recognized the song almost immediately: The Dawn will Come, a Chantry song meant to be sung in moments of need and doubt. It could not fit the situation more perfectly. After the first verse she could hear Leliana's soft voice joining in, followed closely by a small group of soldiers, and eventually Cullen's own deeper voice. When did they stop fighting? She was confused and humbled by the way they were looking at her, Leliana with a shattering faith reflecting in her eyes, Cullen with a heartwarming smile. For a second she thought she may be dreaming.

But what had truly astonished her was the answer it had among everyone else in the camp. One by one the refugees had joined the song, and eventually approached her and bent a knee in the snow in front of her. She had intended to help the first and second to get up before more had gathered, but soon she was overwhelmed. They were laying their lives literally at her feet, telling her she was not to blame for Haven's fall, for the ones they lost, or the path she had led them on. They were looking at her as a savior, as the one meant to guide them to victory, to peace. They were letting her know that they trusted her blindly, and that scared her the most.

Soon the song had ended and Solas had come to her rescue requesting a word, only to keep walking past her to a low hill beyond the camp's edge.

And there she was, following this elven mage that had become her friend and advisor, her elder in age and in wisdom, hoping he could help her understand something, or at least aid her with the weight she was feeling over her heart. They arrived at the top of the hill, and stopped in front of a torch holder that Solas lit with Veilfire. She could see the whole camp from it at their backs, and she marveled at the fact that she was alive to see it. Even through the tragedy, these people managed to join together, carry provisions and equipment, and part ways with their home to make sure they and others survived, and were now working together to come through all of this, soldiers and villagers, authorities and civilians, ex-templars and mages, all working shoulder-to-shoulder in order to keep fighting. She was not naive enough to think there were not complaints; she knew that, especially between ex-templars and mages, there was a long way to go to accomplish true peace, but for now and thanks to the harsh moments they were living through together, she was lucky enough to be there to see it come to pass.

She turned to look at Solas and was about to thank him for saving her, but he beat her to the punch.

-A wise woman, worth heeding. Her kind understand the moments that unify a cause. Or fracture it.

He was right, of course. Mother Giselle had moved the exact piece in the board to stir people's faith. It may come off as manipulation, but she could not deny that in this precise moment, they needed it. The woman's voice sounded in her head, Faith is made stronger by facing doubt. Untested it is nothing. She was going to answer, but once again, the mage was quicker.

-The orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you. It is elven. Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach. Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived, ...nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin.

She felt as if a huge piece of a puzzle had just fit into place, but she forced herself to analyze the mage's words more carefully. The fact that Corypheus' magic was elven said nothing to her, except perhaps that the theory about Andraste's gift to her was, as she suspected, just a belief fueled by the need of the people to know their gods were protecting them. And yet something about this fact disturbed her. Elven meant ancient, more than if it would have been Tevinter's, or even Andraste's. The elves were in Thedas long before it was even named such, and they were the first people that wielded magic in the world, no matter what the Chantry said. That much she believed in. Besides, Solas was someone she had learned to trust and she would not question the power he, or his People, had. She needed to know, though, how he had come to know this. He had never mentioned this when he examined her, nor was he close enough to the Elder One to be able to feel the nature of his power, but she had to make sure her friend knew she took him at his word.

-All right, what is it, and how do you know about it?

Solas smiled. He always enjoyed the fact that even when she did not question the source of his wisdom, she did not accept it blindly without at least inquiring about how he had come to his conclusions.

-They were foci, used to channel ancient magic. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter. His empire's magic was built on the bones of my People. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it.

Was that fear in his eyes? It should be. For him to call the elves his people was unusual; he typically did not include himself among them, although he did not claim to be anything but, and even so, he usually did not share most of the customs and practices of either city elves or the Dalish. Not that it was that unbelievable. He was a loner, he had told her he had grown up in a village to the north, but it was obvious it was not a Dalish or human one. She even thought he despised most of the nomad elves. Solas certainly talked about them with enough derision, claiming they were wrong about so many things, that they twisted elven culture until nothing was left of it that could be recognized from before.

In a way, she was fascinated with his ability to see beyond this world, to witness history in the making, to hear and feel all that has come to pass in the places he visited, and because of it they had shared many hours talking about his adventures and the real elven heritage. Solas was surprised with her curiosity of the elves, herself being human, even more when she asked him if he could teach her his language. He had accepted of course; he hardly could deny anyone's desire to learn, but the situation had delayed the beginning of their lessons more and more into the future. Though now they could be forgotten until much better times arrived, if they ever did. All in all, it seemed that same curiosity was going to be useful now, considering she now carried a power from a foci of ancient elven magic in her hand.

She could see Solas fidgeting, his toes scraping the snow. She couldn't understand how he did not have blue feet by now. How do elves could stand the cold anyway? Should she offer some boots to him? Come on, focus, he has other things in mind, can't you see? Yes, she could see he was worried, and with reason. She could just imagine the Chantry's reaction if the orb's nature became public knowledge, not that the common people would react any better. It would be a massacre, hundreds of elves would surely perish at the hands of fanatics who would think their extinction would help the cause, or by groups that consider themselves righteous to punish elves, as if they were to blame for the presence of an old creature that somehow had managed to snatch an artifact so powerful that it could literally rip the skies wide open.

Well, she would never tell; elves deserved the same treatment as anyone. She had believed that her whole life and, in fact, her parents had made sure to instill those values to her from youth. In the Trevelyan household, there were no inferiors, and they treated everyone with the respect they truly deserved. Actually, it was not rare to find elves on her parents' estate doing jobs that other houses would have considered above them. Her father had even employed an elven horsemaster and a captain, and her mother's chambermaid and dearest friend and confidant was elvish.

-This whole mess is confusing. I can see how elves might be an easy target.

Solas looked relieved that she had seen his point.

-History would agree. But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction.

She frowned, now knowing what he had in mind. The elf looked at her before glancing back to the camp.

-These people will need a new home, just as much as the Inquisition a new stronghold, one that can provide a better advantage point if we are to confront the Elder One again. For now, our forces were not weakened beyond the casualties the attack left. These people kept their hope and their strength, and that is in our favor. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it. Changed you. -He turned and looked toward the horizon.- Scout to the north. Be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build, ...grow... It is waiting to be awakened from a long sleep, and you are the one who can bring it back to life.

He looked at her and smiled warmly. She realized then that Solas truly trusted her, and this was his way of showing it, giving her the means to accomplish more. Despite his reassuring words and expression, a sudden fear attacked her.

-Will you come? Will you stay with us?

Solas looked at her as one would a fearful child who just woke up from a nightmare.

-I will see this through with you. I will fight at your side. I trust you Herald, that much you have deserved.

From any other, those words would have sounded smug, as if he was looking down on her, but from him, it gave her as sense of peace. She sighed, feeling utterly relieved.

-Thank you for that, and for saving me. Dorian told me you and Mother Giselle saw that my wounds were attended properly.

-You were certainly in bad shape, but the damage was more due to the hypothermia than any major wound. You spoke while unconscious, about falling through a hole. You were actually lucky you did not break a rib during the fall, although your side will hurt for a time and it will take a few days for your leg to fully heal, even though the cold helped diminished the swelling.

She remembered something.

-How do you do it? -He seemed confused so she pointed to his feet. -You should be freezing; would you not prefer to borrow a pair of boots? I'm sure we could find some.

-I'm accustomed to be barefooted. The weather does not affect me as it would you. -he smiled wryly, -And even if I desired it, I can see that we do not have clothes to spare. Even our leaders appear to be borrowing theirs.- He pointed to the coat she was wearing, effectively making her blush.

-He... Cullen, that is, left it in my tent. I was going to return it to him, I still am!

-I imagine he did. He seemed quite appalled when he found you, although relieved that you were back with us. He had been uneasy since we left Haven, and organized search parties as soon as we were settled.

She was growing uncomfortable. Solas' tone of voice was different, as if insinuating something, and it was making her feel anxious.

-He is a good man, a good Commander. Cullen cares about his people,- was all she could think of saying.

Solas' smile grew.

-That he does.

She looked at him, attempting to detect any signs of sarcasm, but finding none. There was something else there nonetheless, something she could not name. Amusement perhaps?

Solas did not let her think about it more.

-You should go back and let them know where we are heading, that is, if you are willing to follow the path I suggested.

-Of course!

-Excellent. We should leave this place in the morning. It would not be a long way if we were traveling as we always do, but with the whole Inquisition, it may take us around a week to arrive there. The fortress is located in a stretch of the Frostback Mountains near the Dales, so we will have to ascend the mountain to reach it. We will be able to find good hunt on the road, so we should not concern ourselves much with eating a hot meal at the end of the day. Refuge, however, I'm afraid will be more difficult, so we will be forced to hold our advance early. A couple of hours before nightfall, perhaps, so it would be best if we leave at dawn.

She nodded her agreement and went back to the camp, leaving the solitary elf to his presumably many thoughts.