Fenris woke them early, as promised. It took only a few minutes to re-fold the canvas, pack their blankets, and snatch a quick bite.
"Before we get going, let me take a look at that knee," said Vi.
Sebastian looked up through his hair from where he sat on his pack eating a piece of cheese. He said nothing, but moved his leg so she could access it more easily. She knelt down beside him, running her fingers gently over the joint. It was still swollen and warm to the touch even through his trousers. She rested her hands on each side, took a deep breath, and sent her magic in, seeking and repairing the damage lingering from yesterday's fight. When she finished, she looked up to find him watching her with a troubled expression.
She grimaced. "I'm sorry about yesterday. I shouldn't have lost my temper."
His eyes flicked away from her face. "Everything you said was fair."
"Maybe, but the way I said it wasn't. I was worked up, from the fight and everything else."
"You weren't the only one."
"I know. That's why I wanted to apologize. How's your shoulder?"
He rolled it experimentally. "Bruised but otherwise fine."
"I'd like to check, if you don't mind." She reached towards him. He stiffened, but permitted her to lay her hand along the front of his shoulder and feel the area with magic.
"It seems okay. Not swollen; there's probably not much I can do. We've got some elfroot you can chew if you want."
"I'll be fine, thank you."
He was so distant and polite. She pressed her lips together to supress a frown. "Okay." She slid her hand down to squeeze the unbruised part of his arm. "Let me know if that changes."
"Here," said Fenris abruptly, appearing from somewhere behind her to thrust a canvas envelope of elfroot towards Sebastian. "You'll know when you need it."
Sebastian took the packet and tucked it into a pouch hanging from his belt.
After putting on their packs, they walked along the river bank. The morning sun was warm on their backs. Vi disliked how visible they were walking along the water's edge, but the alternative was pushing their way through the underbrush, and that would slow them down as well as exposing them to ticks and rodents and Maker knew what else. So they continued along the sloping bank of the Minanter, picking around the weeds and muddy patches in silence until they reached the outskirts of a small cluster of farms in the late morning. They left the water to skirt around the edges of the fields until they reached a large streambed which ran down to join the river below. This late in the year, there were several feet of dry bank to either side of the water.
"We should follow it uphill," said Fenris, "and meet the road to the pass on the other side."
They walked in silence, picking their way over the rocky bank with some difficulty. Violet considered pulling off her shoes and wading straight up the middle — the cool water would feel nice on her feet — but with the pace Fenris had set, she had visions of slipping on the wet stone and cracking her head on the rocks. Instead she moved up toward the brush at the side of the stream bed, where the ground was a bit more even. After an hour or so, they came to a rocky slope over stones slick with moss where the water tumbled down a short fall. Scrambling to the top, they found Fenris was correct. A wooden bridge sat above the rise, wide enough to allow a cart to cross, and the road continued from there up the hill. Violet suggested a brief rest before moving on.
They each found a rock to sit on and munched jerky and cheese beside the quiet music of the waterfall. Violet was looking back down the hill, wondering how far they'd come — what she wouldn't give for a proper to-scale map instead of the simple sketch they'd made — when Fenris spoke.
"Are you well?"
She looked around, but he wasn't talking to her.
"Well enough," Sebastian replied. "Though I admit the rest is welcome. How do you know so much about the route?"
"I've been this way before." The corner of Fenris' mouth curled up slightly.
"On your way to Kirkwall?"
He nodded. "The more commonly used road is through Wildervale, to the west."
"That's the way I've travelled in the past," agreed Sebastian.
"It was too populated when I first came south," said Fenris. "And there were reasons I did not want to travel through Cumberland. But I heard of this pass farther east and managed to avoid the hunters long enough to get here. It's a rougher trip and gets cut off by snow in winter, but that should not trouble us."
Vi reached over to smack him on the arm. He glared at her.
"You deserve it," she said. "Never say things like that. Now we're doomed to bad weather."
Fenris cast a skeptical eye up at the sky, which was blue and clear as far as they could see.
"Just wait," she insisted. "It will come back to haunt us eventually."
Fenris scowled at her, though she knew he was at least as much amused at her superstition as actually annoyed. His expression softened when he noticed Sebastian smiling at their byplay. He dropped the scowl in favor of rolling his eyes.
"Let's refill the water jars and keep going," he said.
Fenris had been right, Vi realized as she finally reached the top of the rise. The road hadn't been as steep as she feared, but it had been unrelenting, leading straight up the hillside, with hardly any turns or switchbacks. All her energy, magical or no, had been needed to keep up with his pace. She was out of breath, and glad for an excuse to stop and rest.
Turning to look back the way they had come, she saw Sebastian laboring to finish the climb, his steps slow and slightly uneven. Her lips pursed for a moment before she shook her head and loped back down the slope toward him.
"Hang on a minute," she said. "There's something I can do for you."
He froze as she unslung her staff and pointed it square at his chest.
"Rejuvenation spell. Nothing to worry about," she assured him, shaping the rune in her mind. There was a flare of yellow light, and he relaxed visibly as the magic took hold.
"It's handy, but not something I use often." She closed her eyes, and shaped the rune again, casting it on herself. A cooling tingle spread from her chest outward to her limbs, and a faint taste almost like peppermint touched the back of her tongue. Energy surged through her — she felt ready to run up the hill, bouncing at every step like a mountain goat.
"Maker, that helps," she breathed.
When she opened her eyes, Sebastian was looking at her curiously. She wondered what her expression had been when the spell hit, and whether it had been as blissful as his.
"It does," he agreed, a trace of awe in his voice.
"Just stand still for a bit, and let it settle in. The first wave can make you over confident." She smiled and he smiled back. "I'm sorry it didn't occur to me to do this earlier."
"I can appreciate it all the more for having been tired," he said. "Have you done Fenris as well?"
She shook her head. "I didn't even ask. Fenris won't permit 'extraneous magic'. You've seen how he has to be half dead to allow as much as a healing spell." She heaved a theatrical sigh. "So stubborn. His lyrium brands do give him a stamina boost, though." She turned and looked up the hill. Realizing he was alone, the elf had stopped, settling on top of a rock to wait for them. It was probably cooler there, where a small waterfall was so close to the road that spray clouded the air. The path would soon be parting company with the stream, which continued through a narrow gorge, while the road turned to meander up the side of the hill.
Vi cocked her head at Sebastian and he nodded. They started back up towards Fenris.
"Personally," she said, "I don't consider magic extraneous in this case. Though you do have to be careful with rejuvenation. It's like… healing magic can mend breaks and tears but not strengthen muscle. Rejuvenation gives you the feeling of energy but is no substitute for food and sleep."
"So it doesn't address the underlying cause of your weariness?"
"Something like that. My father said they told tales in the Circle, of mages who starved because they used the spell to do research around the clock, or who made foolish mistakes in their experiments through sleep-deprived overconfidence. His general rule of thumb was once on a strenuous day, twice under extreme circumstances, but no more."
Vi glanced over at the man walking beside her. He looked better — much better. His breathing was less raspy, he no longer favored the side with the injured knee, and he was listening to her story instead of just letting the words wash over him. In retrospect, she should have cast the spell for him yesterday — it might have helped.
"I kind of forget about it because… well, mages don't need it often. Magic expends a different sort of energy. Isabela was pleased when she found out about it, though," she added, smiling at the memory. "She was always asking me to spell her 'for stamina'… in a more recreational context."
Sebastian chuckled. She remembered he'd gotten along with the pirate surprisingly well, given the way she'd needled him. Vi had always envied his ability to keep his temper when teased, and hoped that he'd regain more of his equilibrium with time.
"I wouldn't do it, of course," she added. "At least… not often. Isabela can be very persistent."
By late afternoon when they reached the top of the ridge, all of them were tired, spells and lyrium markings notwithstanding. They paused at the top to catch their breath, looking down into the valley beyond. It was lovely — a scattering of farms dotted with fruit trees, with forest around the edges. The air was hazy, catching the late afternoon sunlight with a golden glow. A breeze carried up the smell of woodsmoke with a hint of livestock. There were goats and cattle, separated by tall wooden fences from fields of grain that were blond and ready for harvest. At the far end of the valley, a silver thread of waterfall dropped from the cliffs beyond, before twisting along the valley floor and away to their right.
"I imagine we should plan to camp up here, rather than near the houses," said Vi.
"But not on the ridge," said Fenris, leading them farther down the road.
They soon found a reasonable spot to camp — a bit sloped and rocky, but mostly clear of brush, and set back behind a stand of oak trees which screened it from the road. They tied a rope between a tree and a scrubby but sturdy bush and hung the canvas for their tent over it, folding one end under to cover the ground below. The ends hung open to the air, but the weather was fine — it would keep off the dew and camouflage their presence well enough.
Fenris disliked the idea of lighting a fire where the residents in the valley below might see the smoke, and since the evening was warm enough, they did without. They made a cold meal of dried meat and flat cracker bread. The bread had started to go stale in the two days they'd been walking, but the flavor was still passable. Vi had flour and lard to make flatbread later on, but that would require a fire, which they probably wouldn't risk until they'd crossed the valley and climbed the mountain on the other side. Once they were away from the river valley, there would be few human settlements until they reached the coast. She hoped the cracker bread would last that long, and wondered if there would be any chance to barter for proper bread in the village. She already missed it. Sadly, they'd probably be better off trying to avoid notice. She'd have to do without.
"We'll want a watch?" she asked Fenris after they'd eaten.
"Yes."
"Then I'll take the first — you didn't sleep at all last night. When should I wake you?"
The sun was just about to set — no stars were out to mark the time. Fenris closed his eyes to think back to last night's sky.
"When the Warrior is over the waterfall," he said finally. "That should be shortly after midnight."
"I can take a watch," said Sebastian.
"No," Violet said, firmly but gently. She felt like she'd made some progress with him today and didn't want to backslide. All the same… "Speaking as your healer — you're exhausted and need sleep to get healthy." Before he could protest, she added, "Maybe in a few days. For now, I want that knee healed up and for that you need rest."
He frowned but did not argue.
Shortly after, Fenris crawled into the tent to sleep. In spite of her offer, Vi felt a pang of jealousy. She wasn't mentally tired, but her body ached to lie down. She'd need to be careful to stay alert on her watch. In the meantime, it was lovely here and she should enjoy it while she could see it.
"I'm going to watch the sunset," she said to Sebastian. "Want to come?"
They made their way back to the road and sat on a convenient fallen tree to watch the valley below fall into shadow. The base of the mountain disappeared in a purple haze as the sky began to color; first to greenish yellow and orange, then, as the sun slipped behind the mountain, a smear of pink.
At last the sky was purple-blue, tinged with only the faintest traces of light. Beside her, Sebastian was only a black shape in the growing darkness. She reached out gently and brushed his arm.
"Are you doing all right?" she asked.
"Tired. My knee aches a bit, but I think staying off it for the night will help."
"Good. But that's not what I meant."
"Ah." It was a long time before he continued, his voice rough. "I don't know. At times I feel… I don't know why I'm still here. So many have died." She heard his movement more than saw it as he rubbed at his face with his hands. "Sometimes I wish I'd been in the Chantry with Elthina," he whispered.
She felt a pang of sympathy. "Try not to wish for that," she said. "The Maker has a place for you, Sebastian, even if you can't see it."
"I know I should believe that. But…"
"You're here. Focus on that, if you can. The past is a minefield, and it's not where the answers are, I've found." She should know it; keeping focused on what was next was the only thing that got her out of bed, some days.
"Do you still pray?" she asked after a moment. His only answer was silence. "Maybe you should try."
"Says the apostate mage," he said with a quavering laugh.
"A fair point. I do pray, though. Not as often as Mother would've liked, but I do. I've spent a long time trying to reconcile my life with the Chantry's teachings." This wasn't a thing she talked about; not even to Fenris. But if it might help… and it was easier to say when it was too dark see his face. "I admit, it seems impossible. But the Chantry is run by people and people are not the Maker, no matter how hard they may try. When I read the Chant myself, I think maybe… With everything that I've been through, everything I've done — I'm still free. I think there's more for me to do. I think there might be a reason I'm still here. And if there's a reason, maybe there's a larger plan. Even if the Maker doesn't care for us anymore. Perhaps Andraste guides us now." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's all nonsense."
"No," Sebastian said softly. "I do believe He has a plan for you. It is wise to take heart in that. You can do astonishing things; I've seen it myself."
She snorted. "You didn't see the mess I made of Kirkwall before I left." She trailed her fingers along the rough bark of the tree they sat on. "Who knows what we'll find when we get there; Varric's letters have been pretty vague. I know Aveline and Donnic are all right, and that rest of my friends got away, after. So that's something. I worry about Cullen sometimes. I still have no idea if they killed him or made him Knight-Commander." She remembered suddenly that Sebastian wouldn't know what she was talking about. It was odd that she could have forgotten, even for a moment. Perhaps she'd forgiven him after all. "Cullen defended me at the end," she explained. "Well. He let me escape. That likely amounts to the same thing in most people's eyes."
"He — why did he do that?"
She let out a short bark of laughter. "Don't sound so disappointed."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know. You heard what happened to Meredith?"
"Nothing credible."
"There wasn't much credible about it. She'd been tainted with the red lyrium we found in the Deep Roads — she was the mysterious woman who'd bought it from Bartrand, apparently. It turned her… I don't know what it turned her into. She wasn't like any kind of abomination I'd ever seen. It was horrible."
"And I wasn't there," he said bitterly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't. Really." She reached a hand out to find his arm in the dark. "It's all over now. The point is, we never know what's going to happen. Just because we can't see the pattern doesn't mean there isn't one." She squeezed his arm and then dropped her hand. "I know you don't wear Andraste on your belt buckle anymore, but try praying to her. I'd hate to see you lose your faith, Sebastian. I've always found it admirable. Even if I never said so."
There was a long pause. "Thank you," he said finally. "I didn't know that."
This conversation was getting way too maudlin. Time to put an end to it. Vi heaved herself to her feet. "Now. Bed for you, while there's still enough light to find the tent. Think about what I said, and I'll see you in the morning."
He stood up, lurching a bit as he tried to straighten his bad knee.
"How are you? Do you need…?"
"No. Thank you. It will be good to be off it for a while. I… thank you."
His footsteps crunched on the gravel at the side of the road before he stepped off into the soft leaf-covered ground of their camp.
