Author's Note: Sorry for the wait for another update. Holidays are coming and I'm sure we're all pretty busy. Add school and work on top of that and it creates little sleep and lots of stress. :P Hope you all like it, don't forget to review and give me pointers on how to improve!
As the trio traveled the roads became more and more dangerous and time found them surging further from the beaten path. When they finally reached the Planasene Ridge the road was far flung from their location of bushwhacking, though none of the rogues paid it any mind. Their soft boots, and Elswyth's half bare feet, made for quick and quiet travel despite the sprawling underbrush they lightly stepped through and over. They made excellent time as three shadows flitting through the wilderness, their camp sites leaving little to no impact or trace behind them.
The abrupt appearance of a well worn, un-mapped trail however set them all on edge. Avoiding it was decidedly inconvenient as it meandered the wood in their current direction of travel. Cautiously they ran parallel to it, making sure to keep low and under cover to avoid being seen by any unwitting travelers until the forest unexpectedly parted, revealing what appeared to be a small, stone, overgrown watch tower in the corner of the clearing. Though still intact it was crumbling around the edges, declaring to the trio that it was a structure from a time long past. For all intents and purposes it looked abandoned, but the worn nature of the path would indicate otherwise.
As they slowly approached it a figure materialized in the shadowy void of the doorway.
"I'll never go back! You can't make me! I have the power of the dwarves at my command!" he sounded crazed, with a higher pitched fanatical lilt to his ranting voice.
"Do we look like templars to you?" Elswyth asked the man in annoyance.
"Oh, but going back cannot be that bad? I hear they have tea and cakes," Zevran announced merrily. A roar from within the tower shook the ground and the trio glanced at one another. A heartbeat later the mage faded back into the darkness of the tower and the doorway exploded outward, showering the field with debris. In the now gaping hole where a well formed door had been stood a massive stone golem, easily three times the size of Shale.
"Aw, what the hell," Hawke groused, daggers instantly in hand as the thing charged them, the sheer weight of the construct tore up the loose dirt, the magically enhanced speed of it out of place for how heavy it was. Hawke somersaulted out of the way, grimacing as it felled the tree he'd been standing in front of moments before, rocks, dirt, and splinters flying from the explosive hit.
The three rogues dodged and danced around it, narrowly missing those wildly swinging boulder-like fists as it attempted time and time again to crush them. Sparks flew as daggers were repelled and arrows pinged harmlessly off its rock hide, a testament to the fact that they would need to fight it by less conventional means. It had no vital spots to seek or soft flesh to eviscerate.
"It's like Shale!" Zevran yelled as he dodged a rock fist larger than his chest, throwing himself backwards as dirt exploded where he'd once been standing.
"What the hell is a 'shale'?" Hawke yelled in exasperation, darting away as it swung at him, narrowly escaping by rolling between its legs.
"A dwarven golem who traveled with us for a while," Elswyth retorted as she pinged another arrow harmlessly off its face. Her bow was magically enchanted, but the elemental damage didn't seem to be strong enough for stone.
"I know you thought about it a few times," Zevran quipped as he and Hawke dove in opposite directions, a fist plummeting down between them, a second grasping hand almost caught Hawke's leg as he quickly sidestepped. "How would you have killed her?" Elswyth snorted, abruptly sprinting out of the way as it charged in her direction. Faster than seemed possible it righted itself and almost pinned Reven.
"Shale… those runes…" she glanced hurriedly around and noticed an axe handle sticking out of the brush, the head was rusted, but seemed intact and the wood was still strong. Seizing it in both hands after stowing her bow, she carefully watched the golem's movements, needing to time this carefully as to miss could be drastic to her state of current health.
One of its great fists slammed into the ground where she'd been standing a breath before, but instead of leaping aside, she leapt up, kicking off its fist for momentum and quickly scampered up its mammoth arm to the shoulder.
All thoughts of Zevran and Reven were banished as it flailed wildly, trying to dislodge the nimble elf. Without wasting a moment she drove the axe head into the crevice between its head and collar, wedging it firmly to both use as leverage and a means of holding on. Her inconsequential weight ended up not being enough to dislodge its head as she feared. It was magically attached. Time for plan B.
"Zev, got any acid bombs?" she yelled as it slammed into a tree, attempting to knock the clinging elf free.
"Absolutely, catch," Reven didn't have time to bark out that this was a terrible idea; the bomb was already in the air. The Warden caught it easily and he expelled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, dodging between its legs to continue hacking away at it.
"I am going to find the mage and get the control rod," Zevran yelled as though he were about to take a leisurely stroll in the park. "Be right back!" the singsong tone of his voice made Reven chuckle despite their situation.
"Yea, you do that," Elswyth grumbled, not bothering to look up from concentrating on opening the bomb as carefully as she could with the golem flailing and smashing into every structure in the clearing.
"Watch out!" Reven yelled moments before the golem rolled, attempting to crush her beneath it. He had no idea how she managed it, but when the thing righted itself, she still clung to her perch atop it, like an annoying little bird.
"Aha!" the triumphant exclamation was accompanied by the hissing sound of acid. Hawke wasn't sure the thing could feel pain, but it roared like it did, the glowing runes around its neck were quickly melting. Elswyth had no idea how many of them would need to be destroyed for it to stop or if it would even work, but she kept at it, clinging for all she was worth and trying not to splash herself with acid as its movements became more violent and erratic, if possible.
The sound of chanting nearby startled both Reven and Elswyth and they looked up to see a templar standing a short distance away. A familiar aura washed over her and between it and the acid the golem began to slow, the magic in it slowly neutralizing. It staggered, collapsing piece by piece toward the ground; the elf rode it down until it finally fell apart. Once it stopped moving she sat, still astride the collar of its corpse, watching the newcomer in barely veiled annoyance and distaste, leaning her elbows on the rubble that used to be its head and shoulders and crossing her arms as she stared him down.
Not all templars were Alistair, but she had every reason to be biased.
No she didn't.
She knew she was being unreasonable, but she wasn't in a very forgiving mood at the moment.
"Ugh, he broke the rod," Zevran appeared in the gaping doorway, spattered with enough crimson to indicate the fate of the mage who'd once possessed the rod, the two pieces in his hand and stopped short at the scene before him. "Oh, well… fine then," he said with a slight pout as he tossed the pieces aside and descended the stairs with a noble air. Elswyth couldn't help chuckling at his antics. She really traveled with the strangest people.
"The mage. The mage controlling this golem, where is he?" the templar demanded looking between the three of them. Elswyth's eyebrows rose as if to say 'really?'
"Did you miss the whole control rod comment and the fact that I am covered in blood, which has ruined my leather chest plate, by the way. I had just had this made out of Antivan leather too, very expensive," he whined, drawing out the last word in his exotic accent, and Elswyth chuckled, resting her face in one hand.
"Yes, I had noticed your new armor and yet had not had a moment to mention it. Very nicely made, I love the embroidery, was it custom?"
"Oh yes, indeed. I had it tailored by a man who used to outfit me when I was in the Crows, he gives me a wonderful discount since he owes me his life, but the work is still very expensive. Very nice fellow-" the templar sighed heavily, interrupting their conversation.
"I was supposed to bring him back alive."
"Well that's too bad," Elswyth bit out sarcastically, finally rising from her golem seat. The templar looked at her incredulously, but she ignored him in favor of retrieving her gear.
"That kind of mage the world can do without," the templar turned his self-righteous glare at Hawke.
"It is not your right to judge, Serah, the Maker-"
"Can shove it. He attacked us first, negating your accusation of judgment, it was self-defense and therefore moot point," Zevran grinned, he loved it when she became indignant at chantry members. The other rogues followed her example, readying to leave.
"Wait, where are you all headed?" the templar's sudden alteration of tone caused Elswyth to roll her eyes.
"Why would we tell a templar where we are going?" Hawke scoffed. "The last thing we need is a trouble causing tin can trailing behind us," Zevran glanced at his fellow rogue and shrugged as though it didn't matter.
"Yes, but with mages roaming free, attacking whomever they come across, I can be of use to you…"
"Or you could make things worse and they might attack us simply because you are with us," Zevran countered smoothly.
"And templars are just as bad! We've been harried on more than one occasion just because we're trying to avoid notice!" Reven blurted out and the templar looked at him oddly.
"Why are you trying to avoid notice-" Zevran hit Hawke on the arm and Elswyth covered her face with her palm, her back to the group.
"And you yelled at me for breaking your cover in that tavern! Then you go and put your foot firmly in your mouth and let it slip like that!" Zevran continued haranguing Hawke while the templar's eyes darted between the two of them, then to the elf who had yet to turn around.
"You all are obviously not mages. What is it you're hiding? Are you criminals?" as he looked at each of them more closely he realized what an odd group they actually were: a Dalish, an Antivan, and… perhaps a Ferelden noble? He couldn't tell with that last one; all heavily armed and armored, looking like they were more than capable of handling themselves.
"No, but we might as well be," it was either reveal their identities or possibly cause a fight and though he was currently being annoying she really didn't want to kill him either. "Let us introduce ourselves properly then," she sighed, finally turning to face the group, obvious annoyance on her features. Hawke sighed and gave her a pleading look but she ignored him.
"The Antivan is Zevran Araini," the former Crow swept a low bow. "The Ferelden is Reven Hawke," the templar's eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he looked at the slightly taller man, though Reven was ignoring him, his arms crossed and a decidedly unhappy expression on his face. "And I am Elswyth Mahariel, formerly of the Ferelden Dales," his eyes were like saucers as he regarded her. Now he could see it in all of them. Kicking himself he knew he should have recognized them. Zevran, the legendary crow, he had even made mention of being a former Crow while speaking of his chest plate. Hawke with his spiked armor and enchanted daggers was known as a fighter of marvel. His speed and agility were something to be revered and his dark hair and piercing blue eyes were the subject of many a noble ladies' fantasies. And of course the Warden Commander herself. Stories of her facial tattoos, eerie haunting beauty, long hair and scarred ear were legendary. The impressively large longbow and her quiver attached to her hip and thigh were also unusual. It was rare to have such a unique looking hero. Also there was her curt mannerisms, she was known for that too. No one blamed her though, she was Dalish after all.
"We would greatly appreciate it if you kept the knowledge of where you saw us to yourself and we wish you a good day and Creators grant you a safe journey," she turned to leave.
"Your clan," the templar blurted out and she paused, her back still to him, "I can get you their exact location. That's where you're headed, isn't it?"
"Point for the templar, that was quick thinking," Hawke gave Zevran a withering look.
"I know where the clan is," Hawke protested.
"They have moved since you left Kirkwall, Serah. Only one person knows their location: Knight-Captain Cullen…"
"Cullen?" Elswyth practically groaned. "Why is he in Kirkwall?" the templar made as if to answer. "Never mind, I don't care. Why does he know the location of my people?" the irritation in her voice was clear.
"With their Keeper dead he was keeping an eye on them. Their replacement Keeper was presumed a blood magic user-" Elswyth rounded on Hawke.
"What happened to Marethari?"
"You never asked!" he raised his hands defensively to ward off the tiny, furious elf glaring at him. "Look it's a long story and we don't need bumpkin over here eavesdropping-"
"Hey!"
"-so let's get going and I'll tell you everything on the way," he gave her his best big puppy eyes and she sighed, pinching the oddly straight, elven bridge of her nose.
"Wait, I'm headed in that direction and I can speak to Cullen for you, why don't we travel together? I'm Broderick by the way," he spread his hands appeasingly, hope on his rugged features. It was happening again, she just knew it and she shook her head in resignation.
"Fine... why does this always happen?" she grumbled, stalking off, "I can't even say no to a lunatic chantry sister… and now a wayward templar… it's all starting again… why can't I collect something quieter and easier to carry…" she kept mumbling angrily to herself while the group scrambled to catch up.
"Hawke!" she snapped her fingers and immediately he materialized by her side.
"Yes, Lady Grey?" he knew exactly why she'd called him, but attempting to lighten the mood was never a bad thing. The templar and assassin fell into step behind them a respectful distance away.
"Marethari is dead?" she asked quietly, a far cry from the manner he thought she was going to ask him in. Hawke ran a frustrated hand through the wayward strands loosed from his braids.
"I didn't know how to broach the subject. I knew it was… going to be very upsetting for you…" a heavy sigh escaped him. "But I suppose it will be good for you to know now so you have time to cool off before you see Merrill," Elswyth's face creased with concern as they walked.
Without embellishment and in respectful tones he told her about Merrill's descent into blood magic in order to purify the mirror. How when that failed she turned to a demon ensorcelled on Sundermount. He told her of the Arulin'Holm and how this too had failed. Then finally of her wish for him to accompany her to Sundermount to speak to the demon once more. Only when they arrived it was gone, Marethari had taken it into herself to prevent it from harming Merrill.
"Marethari… it even tried to use her to convince us she'd been purged of it and avoid…" he turned his head away, sadness filling his eyes, he had really liked Marethari. "There wasn't another way, the Keeper made sure of that…" Elswyth ceased walking, reaching a hand to a nearby tree to steady herself. She felt like she was going to be sick. Hawke put his hand on her arm, genuinely upset that he had caused her state of distress. "I'm so sorry… I tried to stop her, to dissuade her from walking her path…"
Zevran and Broderick hurried up.
"Elswyth, are you alright? What is wrong?"
"Hahren na, melana salin, emma ir abelas, souver'inan isala hamin, vhenan him dor'felas, in uthenara na revas. Vir salahn'nehn, vir dirthera, vir samahl la numin, vir lath sa'vunin," Zevran had only heard her speak those words once before, when she'd buried the twisted, tainted body of Tamlen and his heart went out to her. That night had nearly broken her will to continue. Not even Alistair had dared broach the subject of who exactly Tamlen had been, though they all knew he had been lost and she had been saved. Hawke knew exactly what the words meant, but Broderick looked between them all, a little confused.
"Your Keeper then. I am truly sorry, Elswyth," the assassin gripped her arm in a brief, empathic gesture then dragged Broderick away to explain to the lost man what was going on.
"El, I-… I'm so sorry… I tried," she was already shaking her head, straightening.
"No, it's not your fault. Merrill chose her path. She foolishly believed no one else could suffer the consequences for her poor choices," Hawke watched her carefully. "That mirror…" the vehemence in her voice toward such a simple word betrayed her inner feelings. Breathing deeply to cleanse her mind she steadied herself, reverting back to her usual almost emotionless front. "Thank you for telling me," he nodded.
"Are you ok?" he asked quietly as they fell into step.
"I will be. It's just someone else I've lost. You'd think I'd be used to it by now," Hawke clapped her on the shoulder, startling her slightly before leaning in.
"It never gets any easier, but Varric knows this awesome stuff. Tastes like shit, but hell if it doesn't make you think life's all flowers and bunnies!" Elswyth looked up at him and broke into a small smile at his disarming grin. Understanding lodged itself in his mind, he knew that look, he knew she was not ok but that she was hiding it like he always did. Despite the fact that he always did it, he determined he would not allow her to internally suffer so.
Behind them Broderick watched the duo closely.
"Are they-?" he gave the assassin a sidelong glance and Zevran shook his head.
"Nah. Not yet anyway. Elswyth is not the sort to jump into things lightly," he remembered how long it took her to finally open up to Alistair, and that was before he broke her heart and made her jaded. The first few years following Alistair's coronation were difficult on those around the Warden Commander. In public she was stoic and unyielding. In private she was insufferable and very difficult to speak to. It faded over time and she became more personable once again, but she never quite got rid of that dark cloud that had settled over her. For the first time in a while Elswyth seemed more like her old self again. The assassin gave a soft smile at her back.
"Ah… so I have a chance then?" the templar gave him a rakish grin and surprised the assassin.
"What about those vows of celibacy?"
"Almost no templars follow them, especially the older templars," he shrugged.
"Hmm… good to know," Zevran grinned.