Six

Ambushed

With both money and time limited to the fledgling Inquisition, Cassandra suggested their motley band head straight to the Hinterlands for the meeting with the rogue mages. Tal protested, and Rosa was somewhat inclined to agree with him, although for different reasons, but Cassandra would not be swayed. The Seeker addressed Tal's concerns about supplies and soldiers by coordinating resupply and reinforcements from Haven. That alleviated everything for him but travel weariness, which worsened by the day the longer he went without a drink.

Rosa had her own concerns about such prolonged travel, but Tal either didn't see them or ignored them. Out of a desire not to overstep her bounds and lead in her brother's stead, Rosa didn't mention them. But every day she struggled to keep a clean supply of nappies for Eliana and the baby was short tempered with naps interrupted, playtime restricted, and too little time out of her sling.

Eliana was old enough to be intensely curious about the people and things around her. To be denied the chance to reach for Cassandra's sword, the horses, and every passing soldier who came into view made her cranky. Or maybe she was just teething. Regardless, Rosa missed her mother-through-bonding and the other members of her clan who'd come with her to Haven and could have helped occupy Eliana to give her a chance to rest.

Tal was always willing to watch her, but he was as cranky as Eliana was these days and prone to snapping at her or giving her bits of food to silence her. That trick resulted in a bout of colic and gas that had Eliana squalling fitfully for a few nights, much to Rosa's quiet horror and everyone else's grumbling annoyance. After that Rosa tried to keep Eliana with her at all times to avoid another Uncle-inflicted stomach upset…but the temptation grew increasingly within her to include Solas over Tal as a caregiver and babysitter, much to her dismay.

She didn't know how she felt about her ex-lover anymore, but as Tal turned grouchy and despondent over his strange inability to consume any alcohol, Solas seemed to always find a way to be useful. First he volunteered to wash nappies and other clothing for Rosa. Then, when Eliana developed colic, he appeared with soothing herbs he made into a tea to help the baby sleep and ease her tummy. He replaced the worn leather handle about her staff and offered to mend a tear in her traveling coat, without being asked. He was almost always at her disposal and she sensed no resentment or hesitation while Tal was at times short-tempered and constantly bickering with Solas.

She knew from her brother that he believed Solas had done something to him to keep him from enjoying alcohol. She wanted to support Tal and defend him against the unknown, frightening magic Tal claimed Solas used on him, but simultaneously she couldn't stop herself from being grateful. She could at last relax that Tal wouldn't slink off to drink himself into the void the second she let her guard down. If it wouldn't have been such a betrayal of her brother Rosa might've even thanked the Elvhen man.

Unfortunately, whatever charm Solas used on Tal didn't last.

They were just entering the hinterlands, still about three days journey from Redcliffe, having stopped for the night off to one side of the road near a sizable creek. Rosa stayed in the supply cart to rest and nurse Eliana, as she always did in the early evenings when they stopped to make camp. She was dozing, her mind flitting in and out of the Fade, touching dreamscapes spirits shaped for her, when a loud thump woke her. She inhaled sharply, tensing and reaching at once for Eliana to tuck her protectively to her body as she gazed around.

The sky was orangey with sunset as, through the canvas covering her and Eliana, she saw it was Tal who'd plopped into the cart. He held a wine bottle and a broad grin. "I beat it, asamalin," he gloated. Lifting the bottle in a mocking toast, he winked. "Revas can suck my cock."

She frowned as he lifted the wine bottle's mouth to his lips and drank a huge gulp. When he lowered the bottle he sighed deeply with satisfaction. "Fenedhis," he cursed. "I missed this. Damn."

"Tal," she said in a reprimanding tone. She sat up, fidgeting as she tried not to wake Eliana. "Give that here."

Tal pulled the wine back to his chest, as protective of the alcohol as she was of her baby. "Not unless you promise you're going to help me drink it." He wrinkled his nose then, rethinking his suggestion. "Actually, maybe I'll just go get you your own bottle. How bout it?"

"No," Rosa said, low under her breath. She extended an arm out to him, motioning. "Give it here. You know you have trouble stopping."

Tal scoffed. "You're worse than my own mamae, you know that?" He brought the bottle sloshing to his lips again before going on. "Not even my mamae would ride my ass this hard about a little drink."

Rosa scowled. "Would you like to find out? I can take you to your mother in the dreaming and you can see just how acceptable she finds your constant drunkenness."

"I'm not drunk!" Tal snarled. "Not constantly. Not even close." He gestured angrily around them at the cart, the camp. "Since that bastard used blighting blood magic on me at Val Royeaux—"

"Keep your voice down," Rosa hissed, quickly looking around to see if any of the humans had overheard. Fortunately no one was within earshot. The human soldiers knew to leave the cart alone during the evenings like this because Rosa and Eliana were napping. None of them wanted to hear a cranky baby. Only Tal and Solas usually ventured close to check on her and wake her for dinner.

"It's true," Tal grumbled. "Fucker used some kind of banned magic on me." He shot her a wounded look. "Why do you keep that asshole's secrets, asamalin? After what he did to you and Eliana."

As she always did, Rosa rolled her eyes and lied. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tal scoffed again. He took a long swig of the wine bottle and then hopped out of the cart. He swayed slightly upon landing, jostling the cart as he grabbed it for stability. Sniffing, he stared off at the nearest campfire, where Cassandra and Varric were chatting with some scouts. "You still love the son of a bitch?"

"No," she said and something inside squirmed with panic, unsure if that was the truth or a lie. "But it doesn't matter what I want. That comes second to what's best for my family. That's you and Elia."

One corner of Tal's lip twitched. He didn't meet her eye, but grunted as if he found her comment interesting. After a silence that was lengthy enough to be uncomfortable, Tal tossed his head back and finished the last gulp of his wine. He held the empty bottle out in front of himself and sniffed again. "Families shouldn't keep secrets," he said, but it almost seemed more as though he spoke for himself than to her. Still, the words made Rosa bristle.

"I'm not lying."

Tal shrugged, disengaging. He stalked off to the fire to join Cassandra and Varric some distance away. Each step was a smidgen too slow and swayed. He was fast heading toward drunkenness. And after that would come shitfaced. And then blackout.

Rosa clenched her jaw and swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. Watching Eliana sleep, she almost missed when Solas appeared alongside the cart. The Elvhen man had footsteps as light as a cat, confident and nimble and silent. He smiled slightly at her and nodded his head as he lifted a bundle of folded cloth. "This is everything," he told her.

"Thank you," she said, real gratitude flushing her as she took the nappies. They were warm like rocks under morning sunshine. Somehow Solas always managed to dry them to perfection.

"Is she still sleeping?" he asked, the small smile never leaving his lips.

Rosa nodded. "Yes. I would be too if Tal hadn't woken me up parading his renewed ability to get shitfaced."

Now Solas' expression faltered for an instant. He recovered then, brows beetling slightly. "How unfortunate." Their eyes met and the question was there, silent but undeniable. Did she want him to repeat the same trick? Solas had never admitted to her he used a strange magic on her brother, but Rosa was no fool. Nothing could have stopped Tal from indulging when he wasn't under constant guard except a powerful spell.

"I…" She licked her lips, unsure of what she wanted to say. "I don't know how to help him."

"May I be of service?" Solas asked quietly, leaning closer in conspiracy. This was tacit admission of the highest order. She should resent him for it on her brother's behalf. But…

"Perhaps later." She hesitated. "Do you know of any tricks that could work longer? Better?"

Solas' mouth quirked downward. In a quiet voice he said, "We must remove Rogathe."

Rosa lifted both brows in surprise. "You think the spirit is causing this?"

"In part," Solas said, dipping his head. "His relapse now all but confirms my suspicion." His expression warped, caught between something like guilt and nervousness. "The spirit within the Herald is at odds with him. While it is bound at present, it still influences him. Much like when a painter mixes two colors on the canvas—green and yellow become a new color: blue. Rogathe and Tal together create an altered personality and that has regrettable consequences." His features softened with memory as he went on. "The same was true for you when the spirit resided within you. As I recall, you were brash and very quick to anger. But Bravery is far more in tune with your spirit."

"Are you calling Tal a coward?" Rosa asked dryly.

"No," Solas replied quickly. "I am suggesting the spirit is simply more like you than it is like Tal." Rosa was silent, considering his point long enough that Solas changed the topic, asking, "It is regrettable that Eliana has displayed magic already, particularly around the Seeker."

Rosa blinked a moment and then nodded. Casting a glance toward the fire where Cassanda was presently shaking a finger at Varric threateningly, scolding him about something as usual, Rosa sighed. "I hope Varric's right and the Circles are no more after this. I know Cassandra agreed Elia is Dalish and doesn't belong in a Circle, but…"

"You worry for her, as any mother would," Solas murmured, his blue eyes tender. "I am concerned as well." He smiled, self-deprecatingly. "Sadly, I have no expertise in child development. I'm sorry, but I don't know whether her early display is unusual. Is there a chance the Seeker will realize she is…not an ordinary mage?"

Rosa idly and lovingly stroked her sleeping daughter's head as she answered Solas. "I don't think the Seeker or anyone else around here will jump to wondering if she's a Dreamer. They didn't suspect us in the Circle so I think Elia is safe. Dreamers are so rare I doubt it will enter their minds."

"Is the display this early unusual?" Solas repeated.

The slight note of urgency underlying the question made Rosa lift her eyes to meet Solas' gaze. She smirked after a moment. "You were really such a bachelor that you don't know?"

His cheeks went pink and he clenched his jaw, turning his head away. "I'm afraid so. Yes. I tutored children for many years, but they were all much older than Elia."

Rosa had already gathered this based on some of his interactions with her in Haven. It wasn't just magical talent in babies he didn't know about, it was everything from weaning to nappy changing to how much and how long they should sleep. It reconfirmed what she'd learned and inferred about him being a bachelor and a loner for most of his life and with no siblings or close relatives growing up to observe, either. Yet, when it was his child he had plenty of interest.

She shrugged, trying to put him at ease again. "My mother said I showed magic as a baby, too. Her clan was thrilled over it because they needed another mage. Lavellan's Keeper was overjoyed, too. Deshanna says the younger they show the magic the stronger they will be and the better they can protect and serve the clan."

Oddly, this comment made Solas frown. Before she could stop herself, Rosa asked, "What?"

"Your Keeper already assesses her like livestock," he growled. "I have seen what the Dalish do with mages they have no need of. Lavellan clan will try to trade her away like chattel."

Rosa bristled. "If you think I'd let that happen you're a fool." Her hand lay protectively over her sleeping baby's back, feeling her little chest rise and fall.

"And if you have died?" Solas challenged her, eyes narrowing critically. "If you cannot protect her?" He shook his head.

Rosa recoiled and then frowned. "So that is what this is really about, isn't it?" she grumbled. "You're here to argue with me about your role in her life again, aren't you?"

Frustration and pride and pain all flashed through his features. "I am her father, Rosa," he reminded her, blankly. "How many times must I tell you I am not relinquishing that responsibility? There is nothing I need argue on the matter. It is not up for debate."

That part of her that still found him attractive wriggled with raw want, fueled by that damned maternal pragmatism that saw a father for Eliana in Solas and leapt at it wholeheartedly. But the stubborn, wounded part of her held back. He'd hurt her when he abandoned her. He deserved to be put in his place, to be denied and abandoned now in turn. Where was Solas while she vomited into the snow with morning sickness? Where was Solas when her back ached with the baby's weight? Where was Solas when the labor pains gripped her, so fierce she felt she must be dying? Where was Solas as she'd screamed and cried and sweated and bled bringing this child of his to life? He forfeited his rights to Eliana when he broke his promise to return for Rosa or at least touch her dreams.

Besides, pushing him away now would keep her from making the dangerous mistake of restarting her relationship with him.

"Eliana is my daughter," Rosa snapped, mocking his earlier phrasing. "How many times must I tell you that? You exist in her life only as long as I want you there."

Alarm and anger twisted his features. "Rosa, you do not understand—"

Feeling Eliana waking under her hand, Rosa motioned at Solas to silence him. She scooped up Eliana and cuddled her close, kissing the baby's cheeks. "Sweetling, did you have good dreams?"

Eliana cooed and lifted chubby hands to touch her face. Her little lips spread in a toothless smile, sleepy and innocent to her parent's arguing. Solas watched, silent over her shoulder. Then he spoke in a slightly strangled voice, "May I learn to care for her? Hold her?"

Rosa didn't look back at him as she nuzzled Eliana. Stubbornness won as she pretended not to hear him. Eventually she heard Solas' feet stomp away, his tread heavier than usual with anger. Part of her twisted with worry that she would truly manage to push him away and regret it, but she also feared…well, she wasn't certain what. Sometimes, underlying Solas' stares, Rosa sensed something…oddly desperate. As though he would abscond with Eliana if he ever got a good grip on her. As though he had designs on the baby. He, or maybe his mistress—Mythal. Hadn't her father told her Mythal liked to "collect" babies as collateral? She was as much a mother as a politician and no stranger to taking hostages.

The thought sent a shudder down Rosa's spine even as she dismissed it. That was a silly, paranoid dream of her subconscious. It was her own fear of closeness with Solas, of being hurt again, spinning bizarre reasons why she needed to keep him at bay. That was all.

She stroked Eliana's hair and hummed tunelessly for her baby, promising her wordlessly that she would always be there to care for her. And she'd never rush into trusting Solas with her daughter out of wanting a partner to help her.

Tal hung his head over the side of the supply cart and dry-heaved. His throat hurt. His eyes ached. His head throbbed. Groaning, he flopped back down over the wooden crates, squished between two large barrels of salt Josephine insisted they bring to trade to…well, he forgot who. Someone important. To impress them and forge alliances. Or something. His head hurt too much to try and remember.

Rosa sat on the other side of the cart, shaded by a bit of canvas stretched out over more barrels and crates around her. Cassandra and the soldiers arranged the spot for her so she could rest her legs whenever she tired of walking. Or needed to nurse Elia or change her or nap with her. Now her disapproving stare drilled into him, burning him like a poker from a fire.

Covering his eyes with one hand, he gritted his teeth. "Why do I keep puking?" he whined. Even to his own ears it sounded like whining.

"Because you're hung-over," Rosa told him flatly. Eliana coed and blew spit bubbles. Rosa had joined him in the supply cart to change the baby's diaper a few minutes ago and now rested with her daughter to glower at him. Tal wished she'd just leave.

"No," he grumbled. "There's nothing left in my stomach to come up." Finishing with a groan, he tried to roll over to clasp his stomach. The cart was so uncomfortable, loaded with supplies as it was. He wished Rosa would just leave so he could bed down in her little spot again.

"Why do you keep doing this to yourself, da'isamalin?" she asked, her voice strained. "Do you even remember last night?"

He remembered some of it. Not all. He downed the first wine bottle so fast it might as well have been nothing but a mouthful of liquor. The next one he savored, rejoicing that the wine once more tasted the way it should instead of the foul shit-piss mixture Revas' magic made it into. He stayed as far from the other elven man as he could that night, fearing Revas would attack him again, transform his sense of taste again. He drank nonstop. Through dinner, through conversation after it, and then after retiring to his tent. Or, at least that was his plan. He didn't remember going to bed, but he woke up in the tent beside Rosa so he must have enacted his plan.

And since waking he'd been miserable. How had he forgotten about this part of it? Still, it was worth it for that first sweet taste of wine dancing over his tongue. For the bite of the alcohol in his throat. For the warmth that spread through his loins. For the way it numbed everything and made him stop worrying about the damned mark in his hand, or trying to survive this Inquisition and Herald business, or remembering his clan and his Keeper. How he'd failed them and himself and everyone around him. How he was still doing that, every moment of every day.

"Yeah," he lied to Rosa. "I remember just fine."

A beat of silence drew out and then Rosa sighed, heavy with disappointment. "You don't remember. So let me tell you a few highlights." She cleared her throat, her voice dry and sarcastic. "Varric was telling one of his stories about the Champion until you cut in and started trying to regale our companions with a story of your own that no one wanted to hear."

Tal groaned again but tried for levity. "You sure? I want to hear it."

Rosa snorted, not in amusement but with disgust. In a lower voice she reprimanded him, "You started rambling about how you had sloppy sex with some woman who rescued you after you fell out of a tree and broke your collarbone. And that happened right after you watched a band of roving Dalish kill a bunch of Templars."

Tal snickered, then grimaced as he tasted vomit from a far corner of his mouth. "I bet that went over great with Cassandra."

"Oh yes," Rosa grumbled. He didn't look at her but he could feel her glare. "Especially when, after she told you we'd all heard enough, you tried to seduce her."

Now Tal winced. "I did?"

"You spoke elven so only Revas and me understood, but I think the air humping motions you made and the kisses you blew at her broke the language barrier." She heaved another longsuffering sigh. "But that wasn't my favorite part," Rosa went on angrily. "No, my favorite part was when you started accusing Revas of blood magic."

Alarm snapped Tal's muscles taut, making his temples throb. He grimaced with the pain but pushed it aside. Grunting, he eased himself up on one elbow and squinted through the midmorning sunshine at his sister's shaded spot in the cart. She glowered out at him, seething. His face was hot with shame. For as much as he'd grown to resent and distrust Revas lately he didn't want to get the man killed.

"Did I…" He broke off, wincing. "Did I speak in common when I did that?"

"Yes," Rosa snarled. "And well within earshot of Cassandra."

"Shit," Tal cursed. "That's not good."

"No," she agreed, still snarling. "It's not. And now Cassandra has disarmed Revas. It was only through some minor miracle that I convinced her not to cuff him and lock him away in the wagon." She jerked her chin to indicate the wagon trailing further down the line of the Inquisition caravan.

"I'm sorry," Tal mumbled, slumping as exhaustion and nausea swelled in his head. "I'll talk to her…as soon as I can walk."

"Yes," Rosa bit out. "See that you do." Switching to elven, which was slow to process through his thick mind, she added, "You know Revas is not a blood mage beyond a handful of tiny spells. He's a Dreamer. Blood magic inhibits us."

Tal didn't answer. His gloomy, miserable thoughts drifted as he tried not to feel queasy enough again to retch. He'd fantasized about having Revas arrested in Val Royeaux, as punishment for the spell or whatever it was the other elf used on him to keep him from drinking. Revas' move was a cheap trick, a low blow. Tal's response, however, was no better. It seemed once he was fully inebriated all the worst parts of himself came out for all to see. How much more might he have said? Would he have bragged to Cassandra and Varric and Revas about his heritage next? That was the greatest secret, aside from the siblings' possession by Rogathe both past and present.

He had to stop drinking. He knew it as clearly as he knew the sun would continue rising and eventually set in the west. Yet, he also knew he was weak. When night fell he'd long for drink again, consequences be damned. It numbed the pain and fear inside that churned in him, always. It made him forget about the Inquisition, his mark, his clan, and Nola. It made him forget that he was a constant failure and always had been—a reject among his birth clan, a disappointment in clan Manaria, and an embarrassing disgrace as the Inquisition's Herald.

It would have been so much better if he'd died in the Conclave explosion and the mark had gone to one of the other mercenaries he worked with. Maybe one of the Tal-Vashoth? Or the dwarves? Or Mahanon? Any of them would be better leaders. Any of them would be able to stop themselves from reaching for the wine bottle.

And then, suddenly, from further up in the caravan, Tal heard a harsh whinny from a startled horse. Wretched as he was, Tal didn't think anything of it until a war cry followed. Male voices shouted, guttural and thick, from either side of the road. Inquisition soldiers yelled in alarm.

Wincing, Tal tried to lift his head, blinking blearily. "What the fuck…?"

Rosa cursed and Eliana, sensing her mother's distress, whimpered. Disengaging from Eliana's needy grip, Rosa scrambled out of the canvas cover and reached for Tal. She grunted, yanking him toward the canvas as the cart jerked, jostled by the horse towing it as the mare startled, snorting and stamping. Barrels and crates shifted slightly, making Rosa more frantic and hurried as she made Tal take her daughter. "Hide here and protect her," she ordered sternly.

Hopping over the side, Rosa tossed a barrier over the cart and then herself. Her stave was tucked at the end of the cart. She snatched it up just in time to hear the massive thumping steps of an enormous man, seven feet tall or more, racing toward her. He wore furs, ragged and stained with mud and ocher colors. His skin was dusky from a life under the sun. Avvar?

Letting out a shout, Rosa flung Fade stone at him. The man had been hefting up his warhammer, ready to club her with it, but the Fade stone met his unprotected belly first. With a cry he flew backward at the force of it, falling into the ruts and mud of the road.

Up the road Rosa saw Cassandra charge at a small cluster of these wildling warriors. "For the Maker!" The Seeker collided with them, fearless and beautiful, her sword shining in the sunlight. Rosa's heart squeezed tight, longing to join the Seeker and back her up with a barrier, but she was too far away. She didn't dare leave this cart. The one thing she knew about bandit raids on the road was that they were likely after the supplies. She had to protect her brother and her daughter.

An arrow whizzed by, making Rosa's barrier crackle. She whipped to face a new enemy and saw an archer, similarly garbed as the first warrior. Spinning her stave, Rosa used chain lightning, catching the archer and another warrior beside him rushing out of the trees for the caravan. The runner fell, squelching, into the mud. The archer quivered involuntarily and dropped his bow. Gritting her teeth, Rosa flung fireballs at both downed men and turned away as they screamed with fright and pain.

Tal stared out at her from the canvas, mouth agape. He held Eliana pressed to his chest and the baby squirmed, pawing at his clothes, probably looking for the sling or a breast. Sometimes nursing was comfort as much as it was nourishment. Eliana had good instincts to be frightened, even if she didn't yet have the experience to know she'd never find a breast on her uncle. Maternal pride made Rosa flush warm, blood pumping.

Refreshing the barrier over the cart and herself, Rosa saw two more fighters running for her. She lobbed Fade stone at one and then waited for the other to come closer before she unleashed a powerful mindblast. The blow flung him back with a cry. He was slow to rise again, stunned by the spirit magic barrage. Blood streamed from his nose and the corners of his eyes. Rosa had made him bleed internally. He was already dead; he just didn't know it.

She might have overdone it a little with that mindblast, though. She shook her head, fighting back the brief dizzy spell. Her core refilled with mana—just in time for her to fling more fireballs at some warriors further down the caravan line who were cutting their way through Inquisition soldiers.

Another arrow flew past her. This one, unlike the last, was aflame. It struck the cart's barrier and fell harmlessly aside. Rosa smashed the archer with a veilstrike, then flung a fireball to finish him off.

She pivoted on one ankle to refresh the barrier on the cart and then started the gesture to renew her own—only to realize two invisible rogues had reached her. One yelped, giving himself away when she refreshed the barrier and it repelled him. The other she spotted by the way tracks formed in the mud little more than a meter from her.

"Die!" she shouted and used chain lightning. It arced, crackling as it leapt between the two rogues, knocking them from stealth. Now she saw two rogues with daggers out and wetted with blood, both dressed in nothing but fur hide pants and painted with war colors. They snarled at her, flashing white teeth as the shock left them.

The one nearest the cart recovered first and slashed at the barrier, trying to break it. Tal snarled from under the canvas, but his expression was ripe with pain. Sweat lined his brow, easy to see even in the shadow of the canvas. He scooted against the barrels near him, gripping the baby tighter. Eliana started to cry.

The sound of it was like a knife to Rosa's heart made of cold fear.

Using her staff as a fighting pike, Rosa slammed it against the rogue nearest her, knocking him aside. With him out of the way she spun the stave, using winter's grasp on the rogue near the cart. Frost formed over his skin, crackling, slowing his movement. But it wasn't enough as he twisted at the waist and managed to fling a dagger at her.

Gasping, Rosa dodged left, rolling through the mud, heedless of her surcoat. The blade missed her, landing harmlessly in the wet earth, but the other rogue she'd batted aside had recovered and moved to attack her.

Anticipating his slice at her throat, Rosa danced away, slapping him with her stave once more—but the movement cost her precious time. She'd been about to recast her barrier to turn away the rogue's knife, but his attack thwarted her plan, leaving her on the defensive. Now she used that mana for another mindblast, reaching deep and unleashing it with a slick, echoing boom of green spirit magic.

The rogue attacking her fell away, winded and stunned—probably bleeding internally, too. The other rogue, by the cart, had shaken off her frost spell. He was wounded and weakened from her attacks, but still focused on the cart. The barrier had failed. The man hopped in and Tal cursed at him, kicking even as he curled tighter, trying to protect Eliana. The rogue drew another knife that caught the sun, glinting.

"No!" Rosa screamed as she ran for the cart. Ignoring her own safety again she made the gesture and cast a barrier over Tal and Eliana. When the rogue stabbed it turned away his hand and he cried out with surprise.

Grabbing the knife the rogue had thrown earlier from the dirt, Rosa vaulted into the cart after the rogue and stabbed it into his unarmored neck. The man made a wet gasp, choking as blood spurted. Rosa hauled him backward, pushing him out of the cart.

As his body fell away, still fountaining blood, something hit Rosa's bicep. Hard. She gasped, thrown to the right. The momentum took her over the side. Pain streaked through her arm, but it was nothing compared to the fear still pounding through her at Tal's distressed call and Eliana's wailing cry.

She landed hard in the mud and dirt, winded and stunned. Her staff clattered out of her hands, rolling a few feet away. Her left arm really hurt and, dimly, she realized there was an arrow sticking out of it. Stupefied for a moment, she didn't immediately lunge for her staff—until she saw boots made of animal hide charging at her. Another warrior, lifting a club made of animal bone, long since stained to be an ugly brown.

With her heart hammering, Rosa scrabbled over the ground, trying to reach her stave, only to realize she wouldn't make it in time. The warrior swung his blade in an arc and she realized she had no barrier—and worse, the cart had no barrier. She stretched her wounded arm for the stave while the other made the motion to cast the barrier.

Too late.

Everything went white and she knew no more.

Unarmed when the attack came, Solas was still deadly. Winter school came easily to him so he summoned a blizzard at the front of the caravan where he'd been riding as Cassandra's prisoner in all but name. The sudden freezing cold slowed or paralyzed many of the first warriors attacking the caravan. Cassandra cut easily through them and then charged out to bring the fight to the wild men still up by the trees.

Varric dismounted and used powder to go invisible. Only his crossbow bolts revealed his location as he fired away. His horse, spooked by his invisibility and the clacking of Bianca, whinnied and stamped. It ran for the trees.

Solas' gelding tossed its head, ready to do the same. Digging in his heels, Solas urged the beast on, directing it down the line of the caravan. His staff was tucked away in the wagon, locked up. He didn't need it, but it would help. And the last thing he needed was for Cassandra to become even more suspicious of his powers and talents after Tal's false accusations last night. She was sure to recall that he'd summoned a blizzard without the focus of a staff already. Most mages couldn't accomplish something as spectacular as that without some focus.

The gelding was fast and eager as it charged down the line of soldiers and carts. The locked wagon was near the end of the line, as was the cart Rose rode in. Rosa was a good fighter, but there were a lot of bandits and they were clearly after supplies and horses. Solas ran down more than one warrior who sprang for his horse, trying to catch him. A focused veilstrike sent them flying and didn't slow or spook the horse.

Rosa's cart came into view far too slowly, despite how fast his gelding galloped for it. Fear clutched at his throat with cold hands as he saw an arrow streak out from the tree line and hit Rosa's left shoulder. No, no, no!

As he saw Rosa topple over the right side of the cart, Solas lobbed Fade stone up at the archer who'd shot her. It was a smaller stone without his staff to focus it, but millennia of experience let him shape it precisely into a sharp stone that, when it impacted, killed the archer on contact.

He jerked on the reins, slowing the gelding and circling round the cart. He saw Tal clutching Eliana to his chest, spattered with blood. Horror made him feel nauseous for an instant before Tal made eye contact with him and shouted, "Revas! Help Rosa!"

Unthinkingly, Solas cast a barrier over the cart as he slid off the gelding. A warrior was to the right of the cart where Rosa had fallen, swinging his bone club. Solas flung an icicle at the giant, piercing him straight through the heart. The enormous warrior fell backward and didn't rise again.

Rounding the cart, heart pounding in his throat, Solas felt dread crush his chest. Rosa lay on her right side, motionless. Blood flowed steadily from an impact wound on the left side of her head. "No," he breathed, freezing for an instant before he sprang for her, healing magic glowing gold in his palms.

But before he could lay his hands on her another warrior raced for him, roaring. Baring his teeth in rage, Solas flung a fireball at the man, more powerful than it needed to be. The man stumbled as the fire consumed him, screaming for an instant before he fell over, dead but still burning. Another warrior behind the first skidded to a stop, kicking up mud, his face ghostly white. He turned and fled rather than engage.

Tossing barriers over himself, the cart, and Rosa, Solas laid his palms onto her. The healing magic sank in and he shuddered with relief to feel she still had life within her—but for how long? Head wounds were grievous even in Elvhenan. Few things killed so brutally and were difficult to treat in flesh as well as spirit. The brain could swell, the skull trapping it within. It could bleed and rob a sharp mind of its simplest functions or memories. Or the soul might retreat deep inside, trapped and unable to surface while the body lived on as nothing more than inanimate flesh.

The swift application of strong healing magic sealed the bleeding and might ease swelling, but only time would tell.

Fortunately it seemed they would have that time. The bandits were retreating, repulsed by the Inquisition forces. The warrior who'd run from Solas was the last he saw, beyond the shouts from a few spots further down the caravan. Soon the Inquisition was alone on the road, tending to its fallen.

As tenderly as he could, Solas pulled the arrow shaft from Rosa's arm and healed the wound it left behind. There was a great deal of blood on her, but much of it did not appear to be her own. He checked for other wounds, but only her head remained. He could not close the crack in her skull yet for fear of brain swelling. Blood caked on half of her face and gummed up her hair. It was hard for him to look at and he was eager to find a damp cloth to wipe it away.

Tal joined him, weak-legged and still holding a squalling Eliana. Tears streaked down his face, running through grime and dried blood. Eliana was mostly clean, sheltered by her uncle's body. Solas reached for the infant without saying a word to Tal, laying a hand on her to check with spirit magic if she was wounded. The mana returned to him, telling him his daughter had survived physically unscathed. But she was clearly not happy.

"Thank you," Tal said, his voice dry and croaking. "If you hadn't come when you did…"

Solas didn't bother acknowledging the words. His gaze raked over Tal, seeing that he was still clearly wobbly, weak from a hangover. "Perhaps you should give her to me."

Tal winced and, after a moment of heavy silence, he nodded. He stepped closer and extended his arms out, proffering Eliana. Solas hesitated a moment and then took his daughter. Her crying slowed as she lifted her head and looked to him, less afraid than curious. But she made a face as she realized he wasn't Rosa and her crying resumed. Solas cradled her, stroking her back with one hand, trying to soothe her.

"Will Rosa make it?" Tal asked in a tiny voice.

"That remains unclear," Solas replied stiffly, not looking at the younger elf.

"What?" Tal asked, recoiling from that response. "Are you serious?"

"Brain injuries are difficult to treat or predict," Solas said matter-of-factly. He made a humming noise in his throat, trying to soothe Eliana. The baby's little breaths and her wet mouth and face nuzzled at his neck and ear and shoulder. Her grubby hands pawed at his clothes. "Shhh, da'len," he cooed.

"She'll make it," Tal said, but his voice was weak with fear and emotion. "She has to…"

Solas ignored the younger man, focusing instead on calming his daughter. Eliana came around gradually, blinking as her crying softened to whimpering. Solas tried smiling at her, wiping a thumb across her cheeks gently to clean them of grit and tears. Her little brow furrowed with what seemed to be irritation and she jerked her head away in protest. "Naaaaa," she complained.

"This is my fault," Tal said then and suddenly let out a rasping sob. "If I wasn't such a fucking loser drunk I'd have been able to fight with her. I'd have been able to back her up…" He covered his face with both hands, sobbing into them.

Something like guilt twined its fingers over Solas' heart, too. When he'd insisted Rosa allow him to act as Eliana's father in case she couldn't protect their child or died he hadn't wanted to drive the point home this way. What if she didn't live? The mere thought made it hard for him to think or breathe. It would simplify matters if Eliana became his alone, but he had no idea how to truly care for her and losing a mother was a fate he'd wish on no child, his own least of all.

Particularly because he still cared about Rosa, deeply so. If he were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit he loved her. What if he'd lost her so soon?

Next Chapter

"If she dies," Tal said then, words wavering with emotion, "I'm going to go with her."

"Stoic," Varric protested immediately, an awkward smile on his lips that was both anxiety and grief and not humorous at all. "That's grief talking. Violet wouldn't want that."

"He's right," Cassandra said. "Do not lose hope." Her chin wrinkled with emotion. "I…I lost my brother when I was young. We were close, as you and your sister are. I was very bitter about his death for many years." She let out a sad chuckle. "Sometimes I still am. I will never stop missing him, but I also knew he would never want me to spend the rest of my life miserable. More than that, Herald, this world needs you."

Alcoholism as symptom of spirit possession, huh? Tsk-tsk, poor Tal.

Thank you Frogbutton for stopping by! Glad I got you thinking there on the whole Solas-motives in game mortal/immortal thing. They'll probably make him immortal just to cheese me off. Ugh. Great you're liking the Daddy Solas bit. Maker, I *love* it. Especially when I get to humiliate him. Is this a healthy relationship between me and Solas? Nope. I'm so abusive, haha!

Cookie, I'm so happy you liked that part! I SO love embarrassing Solas, finding things he doesn't know about and making sure everyone knows he doesn't know. I definitely feel like Solas wouldn't know anything about infants. It doesn't seem something he'd have any experience with. I seriously researched game banter for hints and the only time I got a sign he know something about kids was when he sarcastically reprimands Blackwall for how he treats new recruits. It was something to the effect of "shouting at your students at the crack of dawn is the best wat to get them to learn, definitely." So that made me think (along with how he really enjoys trying to teach you to think about spirits/demons and the Fade a different way) he might actually have a scholarly, professor sort of background. When he wasn't fighting wars and rebellions, of course. So you can expect me to toss in more "Solas doesn't know anything about babies" definitely!

I don't know if I ever mentioned it, but we've had two DnD sessions now where I've used my Talassan character, who is a wild magic type sorcerer. First time combat I exploded a goblin-dog with lightning or thunder damage "out the ass" as the DM said. It was glorious! Then we made camp, I danced naked under the moonlight with our half-elf paladin, hit on our half-drow monk dude, and then drank AWFUL booze called "unicorn blood" until I threw up everywhere. Good times!