Dragon Age
A Thedas Tale
Ch 8 – Brecilian Forest
Gilmore tossed a hare bone into the fire. "I'm still having those disturbing dreams. Are you two as well?" he asked the other Grey Wardens.
Lyrica watched as the fire spit sparks from his offering. "Yes, I am."
"I'm not much bothered by dreams," Berchan admitted. "But I rarely dream of anything."
Gilmore nodded. "Alistair did say that some were more sensitive to the darkspawn than others. I could wish I were less so." He looked over at Lyrica. "Is this your clan that we will be visiting?"
"No," she said with a shake of her head. "My clan was in the process of moving north when I left. They would be well out of the region by now. "I'm not sure which clan was spotted, but we are all relatively close. I don't think they will have an issue fulfilling the treaty."
Bethany leaned into Gilmore. "Tell us more about the trouble you and Kael got into, Gil."
Gilmore chuckled. "I can tell you he didn't appreciate the fact that I had a crush on Lor. Oh, he didn't tell me at the time, no…that would have been too kind of him. Instead, he gave me misdirection when I asked him what I needed to do to woo her. He told me she loved the scent of the lenasi flower, so I picked her a bouquet of them. She did love the scent…but she broke out in hives," he shook his head at the memory. "Another time, he told me she loved the tender meat of baby hares. It took me a week of hunting to locate a burrow with babies. I invited her to dinner and she enjoyed it immensely…until she asked what it was. When I told her, her stomach heaved and the results were horrendous. Apparently, she cannot bear the death of any baby, regardless what it is. It took me two days to scrub the - er…after affects from my clothing. Oh, how Kael roared with laughter over that one when he saw me scrubbing my clothes. You would have thought I'd learned my lesson. But I had one more to learn. Honey. He told me that was her weakness…and I knew that to be true. She loved honey. He told me where I could find a hive if I wanted to gift her with some, but he failed to tell me how to retrieve the honey…at least safely. I was stung so many times that I had huge, swollen welts all over. That little shenanigan backfired for Kael. She loved the honey and lavished me with attention. It even earned me a kiss. Ha! It had been worth it, especially the look on Kael's face when she kissed me for my trouble."
He smiled and rubbed his cheek. "It was that look that made me realize he was in love with her. He had never pressed his suit with her, but I stopped wooing her. He was my friend and once I realized he loved her I understood why he did not press his suit. The prince. I pushed at him relentlessly - he was being an idiot. Any fool with eyes could see she loved him and now that I knew he felt the same, I wasn't going to let it go. I was proud of him when he finally stopped being a fool."
Bethany thought she'd be jealous, but she wasn't. It was hard not to love Lor, so she didn't hold that against him. "You went through a lot to woo her. Should I be jealous?" she teased.
He dropped a kiss on her lips. "Not even a little. I'm selfishly glad you chose to come with us. I'd like to think I had something to do with that."
Bethany ruffled his short, red hair. "Maybe just a little," she said, pinching her fingers together with a grin. "I had to come. What they are doing – it's important and they had no true healing mages. I wanted to help." And, yes, she wanted to be with him. So far, he was everything she'd hoped to find in a man. Time would tell if he remained so.
It was nice to see love blossoming in dark times. But, perhaps, it was more likely to blossom during the darkest hours. People needed something to fight for…something to cling to in the chaos around them. "What about you, Berchan…do you have someone waiting for you back home?" She hoped not, because she'd been enjoying his company at night. She had assumed he was free from entanglements, but hadn't asked him.
Berchan tossed the remains of his dinner into the fire and then rubbed the back of his neck. "Not anymore. I – there was someone, but she found another a couple of years back. You are the only woman in my life right now," he admitted.
She nodded. "Good. Being the other woman is not a path I choose to tread upon." She ran her fingertips over his stubble. "You need to shave come morning. But tonight…I'm sure you can find some use for it," she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
His laugh was rich and hearty. He knew she didn't care for beards and he'd been more than willing to shave for her, but she did like the feel of his stubble against certain…more sensitive areas. "I've no doubt that I will." She was the first elf he'd ever been with and he enjoyed her immensely. She was a spunky little thing that didn't take any shit from anyone, which tended to get her into more trouble than not. But she was smart as a whip and had a generous heart. He knew she'd never admit it, but she needed him to lookout for her. And he did so, without a thought.
Like the rest of the men in his family, he was a large man, coming in at 6'4" and a wall of muscle, which put him over a foot taller than and twice as wide as his petite lover. Truth be told, he liked the size difference between them and by the way she climbed him, it appeared she did too. "And you, little one…is there someone that would seek my head for touching his woman?"
The smile slipped from her face. "No, mountain man, the man I was to have wed died from the taint before I became a Grey Warden. His name was Tamlen. We hunted for him, but he had vanished. Becoming a Grey Warden saved me from the same taint. He – he never got that chance."
Now he wished he had not said anything. "That can't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that."
She looked up into his light brown eyes. "It is never easy to lose someone you care for, no matter how they are lost to you."
"What was it like living without a home?" Bethany asked quietly.
"I never felt like I didn't have a home. My clan was my home. But I understand what you meant. I do not know what it is like to have a permanent dwelling as a home, so I cannot compare. But there is a sense of freedom being able to pick up and move whenever you need to. If you needed to follow a migrating herd, you could do so. I enjoyed the clan gatherings the most. We had small gatherings every couple of years, but all the clans would unite every ten years for a large gathering, the arlathvhen. It was an exciting time, getting to mingle with other dalish, trade stories, look for potential spouses. It was a time of revelry. It never lasted long though, the shem – the humans didn't look kindly upon our gatherings and too many mages in one spot could draw templar notice. But it was fun while it lasted."
"Would you go back if given the chance?" Berchan asked her.
"Y-" But the word did not fall off her tongue as it should have. "I would have thought I'd have said yes without a thought. But I am not the woman I used to be. I do not know if I would fit in now." In truth, she wasn't sure she fit in anywhere now. She hadn't wanted to be a Grey Warden, but maybe that was all she ever could be now. "So, the answer to that is I don't know. I guess I will have to wait to see which way the wind blows when the blight is no longer a threat."
"Fair enough," he said with a nod. "It's all any of us can do."
Lyrica emptied her supper into the fire, stood and stretched. "I think I'll turn in for the night. See you both in the morning."
Berchan faked a yawn and rose. "I am suddenly very tired myself. Good night."
Gilmore laughed. "I'm sure you have sleep on your mind," he teased the big man that was crawling into the tent.
Berchan turned and poked his head out of the tent flaps. "You'd be wrong about that," he said with a wink and disappeared back into the tent.
"No doubt." He turned to look at Bethany with a wicked gleam in his eyes. When she giggled and darted into their tent, he was right behind her.
The morning came too soon and in little over an hour they mounted once more and were on their way. Since they were in the northern Bannorn and there were no real roads to follow through the hills it took them nearly nine days do reach the Brecilian Forest and another day to locate the clan's camp. They dismounted out of respect when the clan scouts approached them.
"Andaran Atish'an, my friend. You have come a long way." She glanced at the shem but chose to ignore them. "I am Mithra and I give you the welcome of our clan. These are curious companions you have. Might I ask the purpose of your visit?"
Lyrica inclined her head. "Ma serannas, sister. I am Lyrica. We are here to speak to the keeper concerning the Grey Warden treaty."
Mithra's eyes widened. "The Grey Wardens? You…have joined their ranks? How unusual. Excuse my surprise…I will take you to the keeper right away."
Zathrian's brows rose. "I see we have guests…and one of our own, no less. You are older, but I recognize you from a past gathering. Lyrica…of the Sabrae Clan. Aneth ara, da'len. I am Zathrian, keeper and hahren of the Saoirse Clan"
"She comes on behalf of the Grey Warden treaty," Mithra informed him.
"Ma serannas, Mithra, you may return to your post," Zathrian told the scout.
"Ma nuvenin, keeper." Mithra inclined her head and departed to return to her vigil.
He settled his attention back on his new guest. "The Grey Wardens? How unusual that one of our own should join their ranks. How did such a thing occur?"
"Yes, I am Lyrica and I remember you, Zathrian," she said with an incline of her head. "Becoming a Grey Warden was not a choice I would have made, had I a choice. A tainted mirror was found in some underground ruins. My partner…touched it and we were hit by a shockwave of taint. I was found, but he was not. A Grey Warden took me away to try to save my life," she admitted." Now, I do what I must."
A mirror? In old elven ruins? "It must have been an eluvian. How fascinating. I wonder how it became tainted?" He shook his head. "Ma serannas for sharing your story, da'len. I wish I had time to discuss it further with you. If you came to bring news of the blight in the south, it is not needed. I had already sensed the corruption. I would have taken the clan north by now, had we the ability to move. Sadly, as you can see, we do not.
She had notices disquiet around the clan. "What is happening to clan Saoirse?"
"Do not allow our troubles to burden you, though I suspect they may impact your mission. Unfortunately, we may not be able to live up to the promise we made. This will require some explanation, de'lan. Please, follow me. He motioned with his hand and led them to where their ill were laid out on cots. Their bodies contorting in agony, the sounds of their pain were even more heartbreaking.
"The clan came to the Brecilian Forest not one month ago, as is our custom when we enter this part of Ferelden. We are always wary of the dangers in the forest, but we did not expect the werewolves would be lying in wait for us. They…ambushed us, and though we drove the beasts back, much damage was done." He knelt down next to one of the men. "Many of the warriors lie dying as we speak. Even with all of our magic and healing skill, we will eventually be forced to slay our brethren to prevent them from becoming beasts." He lowered his head, a heavy weight upon his heart. "The blight's evil must be stopped," he said as he rose to face them, "but we are in no position to uphold our obligation." He inclined his head. "I am truly sorry."
Her brows drew together in confusion. "We have come down to the forest a few times, but they have never attacked us. We would occasionally see glimpses of them, as if they were observing us, but then they would melt into the forest and disappear. I wonder what has caused them to attack?" She shook her head. "What can we do?"
"Little, I'm afraid. The affliction is a curse that runs rampant in their blood, bringing great agony and then ultimately either death or a transformation into something monstrous. The only thing that could help them must come from the source of the curse itself, and that…that would be no trivial task to retrieve," he warned. "Many of our hunters and warriors have tried and failed. Some, never to be seen again."
She turned to look up at her companions. "Are you willing to help me in this?"
"Of course, I will." Bethany told her. "No one should have to suffer like this."
"I will too," Gilmore said with a nod. "This is a wrong that must be righted."
When her gaze turned to him, Berchan smiled at her. He would not let her go on a dangerous quest without his protection. "We came here for a reason and I will do what I can to ensure you succeed."
She nodded and turned back to face Zathrian. "Tell us what needs to be done."
Shemlen showing nobility and ready to follow an elf into danger. That he had not expected. But he could not tell her that her friends would be seen as traitors to the werewolves, thus they would be in greater danger than she, herself. Not without telling her everything…and that he was not ready to do. "Within the Brecilian Forest dwells a great wolf. We call him Witherfang. It was within him that the curse originated, and through his blood that it has been spread. If he is killed and his heart brought to me, perhaps I could destroy the curse, but this task has proven dangerous to us. I cannot risk any more of my clan."
She was silent for a moment as she thought over his words. "You said perhaps you could cure them, so finding the heart may be for naught." She felt Berchan's large hands settle on her shoulders to show his support.
Zathrian looked up at the large shem that touched her and frowned. Elves should not mate with humans, a race that had enslaved them for a thousand years. The only thing that soothed his ire was that the large human seemed to be following her, not the other way around. That, in itself, was a novel occurrence. "There is no guarantee that this will work as I suspect, but it's the only hope we have left," he admitted.
She nodded. "Then we will seek out this Witherfang."
He felt as though he was sending her to their death. He did not mind the shem dying, but enough dalish had already been lost to the curse. He didn't want to see that happen to her. "Since you have been to the forest, I do not need to warn you of its dangers, but your friends should be aware that because of the vast number of deaths and blood that have soaked the forest, the veil is thin and spirits possess both the living and the dead. While I wish I could do otherwise, we are in desperate need of help and I cannot refuse it were you to give it."
"Do you know where Witherfang might be or how I would know him from other wolves?" she asked him.
"Watch for the white wolves. They are his eyes and ears in the forest," he told her.
She nodded. "Then our path is set."
He inclined his head to her. "I must return to caring for my people. Creator's speed on your way, da'len. Dareth shiral."
When he left she turned to the others. "Thank you all for your support. Now, let us replenish our stock of dried goods, I do not know how long we will remain in the forest and it is best we not harvest anything but meat from within."
She spotted Varathorn over by his aravel. She waited until he was done upbraiding his apprentice. "Aneth ara, Valathorn."
"Aneth ara, da'len. It's been some years since I saw Master Ilen at the last gathering. He is hale, I hope?" Varathorn inquired of her.
She smiled and nodded. "He was a well as ever when I last saw him."
"That is good to hear. Your clan is more familiar to us than most, since we do not stray far from each other in this land. And Tamlen, he is doing well too? I imagine you are wed by now? Though, I am surprised he is not with you." Tamlen had joined the Sabrae Clan at the last gathering after the pair had taken a shine to each other. In return, they were given Dyani, so that their keeper could have a first. But Zathrian had fallen for the young maid and wed her.
"Ir abelas, Varathorn, but Tamlen and I were tainted by an eluvian in an ancient elven ruin. I was taken by a Grey Warden so that my life could be saved. Tamlen…he did not survive the taint."
That brought sorrow to his heart. "Ir abelas, ma falon. It saddens my heart for you both. You were perfect for each other." He noticed the large man stiffened and wondered why his words had that effect on him, unless…no, that did not bear thinking on.
"Ma serannas, Varathorn. I hope that Dyani fares better? I have missed her since she left," Lyrica told him.
Mention of the young woman put a smile on his face. "Much has happened, da'len. The keeper has bonded with her. They have a daughter, Niara, she is but two and refuses to leave her mother's side. Dyani is even now round with his child…or children. It is believed she carries two. I imagine she is at rest or you would have seen her at his side. Until we entered the Brecilian Forest, the keeper had become softer…serene. Now, he fears for his wife and children as much as for his people. Much is on his mind."
That, she had not expected. The vast age difference alone surprised her. Perhaps her friend had bonded with the keeper to solidify her place in the clan? "I am glad she is doing well and I'll make sure I see her before we leave."
"I'm sure she would most displeased were you not to seek her out," he said with a grin. "You know, I met your father. He was once keeper of your clan. You carry many of his features. He spoke at a gathering, telling the clans that more of us needed to voyage into the shemlen world and learn their ways. He would be proud to see his daughter a Grey Warden, I think."
His words touched her heart. So few spoke of the dead and it was good to hear someone tell her about the past. And it was odd that while her father did not raise her she still had the same opinions he held. "Ma serannas, lethallin. It warms my heart to hear something of the past."
He nodded. "Our people speak so little of the dead, especially those who end in…in tragedy. But I thought you should know, regardless."
She inclined her head. "I appreciate it. We will be heading into the forest soon to seek out the lost hunters and Witherfang and we need to stock up on supplies as I do not know how long we will be away from the camp," she told him.
He handed her the supplies she requested. "I would appreciate it if you kept your eye out for something in the forest. There is a wood that, if treated properly, is as hard as steel but far lighter. It has a blue cast to it and it is called ironbark. You can only harvest the bark that has fallen off the tree from age. If you chance upon some, please gather what you can of it, da'len. The keeper has forbidden us from entering the forest to collect the wood; this means I cannot make our finest crafts for years to come."
"If we find any, we will gather some for you."
Varathorn smiled. "Ma seraanas, lethallan. Dareth shiral."
"I am proud of your people, little one," Berchan said as they moved away from the landship. "They stand proud and did not submit to the tyranny of others."
She blinked and looked up at him. His words had caught her by surprise. "I did not think a human would feel that way," she admitted.
He laughed. "Not all humans treat elves abominably. When this is over, and if you are willing, I will take you to Craighorn Keep. You will see what life is like there for the staff. All staff are cared for, paid and treated the same regardless of who or what they are."
"It is also different in Orlais. Some elven slaves in Orlais are held in such high regard that they have become arrogant. They are wealthier and hold more prestige than many minor Lords here in Ferelden," Leliana assured her.
Did her friend not fully understand what she'd just said? She pursed her lips and then frowned. "My friend, they are still slaves. I would rather live poor and free than be a wealthy slave. Fancy clothing with a collar and leash is no way to live. I am no one's bitch. Can you honestly tell me you would be willing to subjugate yourself for the rest of your life for a silk dress?"
The smile slipped from Leliana's lips. "No…no, I suppose I wouldn't. I'm sorry, Lyrica. My words were thoughtless. Thank you for letting me see it another way."
Because Gilmore had such high regards for his former employers, he couldn't let these words go unsaid. "The Couslands, too, have always treated their servants – staff, Lor would kill me for calling them servants, with respect. Well, except for Nan. But Nan could be unpleasant to everyone. I think they only kept her because her cooking skills were phenomenal."
-BREAK ONE-
Lyrica came to a stop when she heard a greeting.
Athras forced a smile for their guests. "Aneth ara, ma falon. It is good to see one of the Sabrae Clan. Where is your clan now, if I might ask?"
"They moved north after I left with the Grey Warden, Damon," she told him.
"I see. I am glad you have become part of such a respectful organization as the Grey Wardens. Few of us ever see that distinction. I understand you will search for the wolves in the Brecilian Forest. I would join you, but Zathrian has…forbidden me."
"I have been told it is a dangerous time to enter the forest and that many hunters have gone missing. Why do you want to risk yourself in that way?" she asked curiously.
"My wife, Danyla, and I both fought the werewolves that ambushed us. She was gravely injured and the curse spread rapidly in her. Zathrian fought hard to ease her pain, but there was little he could do. And though he says Danyla is dead, he will not let me see her…her body." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I believe she has become a werewolf, and that it is being kept from me so that I do not go chasing after her. If I could just…know if Danyla is alive, or what happened to her…then I could be at peace," Athras explained.
She wasn't sure how she would be able to tell one werewolf from another, but she had to do what she could to help him. "I will keep my eyes open. If I hear anything about your wife, I will let you know."
"Ma serannas, lethallan. I cannot thank you enough. Dareth shiral."
She inclined her head and moved in the direction of where Sarel was to learn a bit more about what was happening. A youth stood up at her approach.
"You are the Dalish Grey Warden. Andaran atish'an. It…it is good to meet you," Cammen said a bit in awe. He had heard stories of Grey Wardens but had never met one. The fact the she was one of the people made the meeting all the more exciting.
"Ma serannas. I am Lyrica."
"I am Cammen, a hunter apprentice. Though I wish I could become a real hunter," he admitted.
"Ah…the forest is too dangerous and Zathrian will not let you enter it. I understand that must be frustrating," she said trying to sooth him.
"Yes. I've been an apprentice for too long and I need to bring back the pelt of a beast."
She nodded. "I remember my own apprenticeship. I brought back the pelt of a bear. That is not what I'd intended to hunt, but it decided to hunt me. I was lucky to come out the victor," she told him.
His eyes opened wide. "A bear? I could not imagine killing such a beast by myself. You were lucky, indeed. I was hoping for a boar or a wolf. But now…no one is allowed in the forest and I must remain an apprentice." He walked around a large tree to get to a better vantage point as he spoke. "But the real problem is Gheyna."
She looked over to see the red head he was looking at. "Why is Gheyna a problem?"
"She is my heart's desire. I have asked for her hand, but she cruelly refuses it. She will not bond with an apprentice, she says, and calls me a child. Since I cannot enter the forest, I cannot become the hunter she needs."
"I will talk with her, Cammen. Sometimes people just need to see things another way. Once they do, there is an understanding that they once lacked," she assured him.
He shrugged. "I do not know what good that would do. The situation hasn't changed. I just…I do not want to lose her to a more experienced hunter."
"Lyrica is right, she is good at getting people to see things another way. Let her help," Leliana put forth.
He nodded, the first ray of hope warming his heart. "Syrannas! Oh, ma serannas! I will pray to the goddess of love that you are successful!"
He was truly adorable. She hoped she would be able to give him his heart's desire. She hurried over to where Gheyna was seated. The girl rose as they approached.
"Andaran atish'an, Gheyna."
"It is good to see another of the people from elsewhere, but how did you know who I was?" Gheyna asked curiously.
"I spoke with Cammen. He mentioned you," she told her.
Oh dear. Did he give her an earful? "What did he say?"
"He said you are his heart's desire, yet you refuse to give him your hand because he is not allowed into the forest to slay a beast and become a real hunter."
His heart's desire? Romantic, but not good enough. She shook her head. "I cannot accept his proposal. He's been a hunter's apprentice for over two years now and he's yet to slay a proper beast. Each time he tried, something has gone wrong. Perhaps the creators do not wish us to bond."
She pursed her lips and nodded. "Perhaps, or perhaps the Creators are testing your love for each other – to see if you can weather the rainbows as well as the storms. Life is not always easy and lovers must stand strong together in light of anything that happens."
Her words were true. She not thought of it in those terms before. But still… "But…what if he never becomes a proper hunter? What will become of our family?"
"If that is the case, then have him look after the children while you hunt. Everyone is good at different things and maybe his strength lies in family. Regardless, you cannot know he will never become a proper hunter. If you love him, believe in him and help him succeed, in whatever he ends up doing. Just as he will help you succeed. That is what love is all about….working together, because together you are stronger than apart. You are whole."
Gheyna blinked and then giggled when the giant shemlen pulled the woman into his arms and gave her a passionate kiss.
Berchan cleared his throat and released her. "Sorry. I don't know what came over me." Though, in fact, he did know. He'd found her words oddly touching. And he wasn't ready to think about what that might mean.
Gheyna locked forearms with the woman. "Ma serannas, lethalan. You have helped me see things clearly. I do love Cammen and I have not been kind to him. He has always been there for me, but I have not been there for him. That will change. I will speak with him."
They followed Gheyna. This was personal between them, but if there was anything more she could do to help, she would. The kids obviously loved each other. And love was too precious to give up on.
Gheyna stopped in front of the man she loved. "Cammen, I am sorry for what I put you through. I was not thinking of what you and I could accomplish together. Instead, I was seeing only what you haven't yet done on your own. But as a couple we are stronger, our accomplishments shared. So, yes…I will give you my hand and together we will do what alone we could not."
Relief flooded through him. She would be his. He would have his heart's desire. "Ma serannas, Gheyna. You've made me a happy man. I feel blessed by the gods today." He felt even more so when she brushed her lips against his. He slipped his arm around her and turned to the woman that had helped him. "We are both very grateful for the part you've played in bringing us back together. I would like to give you something for everything you've done for us." He removed the pendant from around his neck/ "It's been in my family for a very long time."
Lyrica leaned down to brush her lips over the chained pendant that sat in the palm of his hand and shook her head as she folded his fingers back over it. "Keep, it Cammen and consider it a token of love that will bring you luck."
He couldn't believe she'd gone out of her way to help without seeking a reward. "I – ma serannas, lethalan." He slipped the pendant back over his head. "I will be a hunter before long, thanks to your blessing of luck. I wish I had some way to repay your kindness."
"You do," she said quietly. "Help someone else in need. There is no need to pay it back, when you can pay it forward."
"I will do as you say," Cammen replied with a nod of his head, before taking Gheyna's hand and leading her a bit further away.
She grinned continued to the campfire where Sarel was seated.
He was hoping Lyrica would stop to talk to him before she left. "Andaran atish'an, lethalan! I am surprised but pleased that you helped two children find their way back to each other. Would you come and help us break our fast?" Sarel asked.
"Ma serannas, Sarel. We shall do so," she said with a smile.
"Come, then, and sit. Join us by the fire," he said as he motioned to an empty bench.
Breakfast was a quiet affair and she noticed Sarel's look of distrust upon her companions. She hoped it would not end up being an issue, but it did cause her to eat quicker.
"I am the clan hahren and story-teller, lest you have forgotten. Does Hahren Paivel still live?" Sarel inquired.
"He does," she said with a soft smile.
"That is good, for he was old even when I but da'len. How lucky you are to have been reared with his tales. I noticed you are…not alone. Those companions of yours are Grey Wardens like yourself?" he asked as he looked them over.
She placed a hand on Berchan's thigh. "Berchan and Gilmore are," she said as she pointed to the red haired man further down on the bench. Bethany is a friend…a mage wanting to help with fighting the blight."
He somehow felt better knowing the humans were Grey Wardens. "A Circle mage then? Aneirin has spoken of his old mentor, Wynne. He prefers to live outside the camp…in the forest. If you run into him, he would probably like to hear how she is doing."
Bethany's mouth fell open and then snapped shut. Perhaps it was safer to be believed a Circle mage. "Thank you for letting us know."
Lyrica gave her a slight nod. She knew the elves would not care if she was an apostate, for all dalish mages were apostates to the Chantry. She, herself, was borderline. She never practiced spells, but she did have an unusual empathy with animals. She knew what they were thinking and feeling and they seemed to understand her as well. Both her intensions and her words.
"Andaran atish'an," he said to the others. "Enter this camp in peace. I do find it odd that any of your kind would so readily follow one of the Dalish," he admitted.
"Why?" Berchan asked. "She is an intelligent woman, who knows when to be soft as down and when to be harder than steel. She is a better leader than most men I have trained under. I would willingly follow her to hell to fight at her side." And to keep her safe.
He did not expect to hear that coming from a shemlen. So few were willing to acknowledge their abilities. "That is commendable," he said to the giant Grey Warden. His gaze settled on Lyrica. "Do you suppose you have been made a Grey Warden simply to get our assistance? Maybe they think we would not live up to the treaty otherwise."
The smile on her lips faltered. "I almost wish that was so. Tamlen and I were tainted by an eluvian in an old ruin. I was found…but Tamlen was lost to us. I became a Grey Warden to save me from the taint. The Wardens didn't even have the treaties when I joined their ranks."
"Ir abelas, lethalan. Mala suledin nadas. And now you must endure," he repeated so as not to be rude to the other guests. "I apologize for my words. My wife was lost to the werewolf's curse and I am not myself."
"Ir abelas, Sarel. I understand. We have both lost someone we loved to taint," she said kindly.
Sarel nodded. "Ma serannas. Better her suffering be ended now than for her to have become a…a beast. These have not been easy days for us, and the idea that we may yet have to abandon our ill to their fate…" He shook his head. It did not bear thinking on. "But let us not dwell on our problems. Is there something we can do to help you in your quest?"
"You have done much already in filling our bellies. But I would ask if you know how the werewolf curse came about?"
"Due to your own clan's visits to the forest, I'm sure you're aware that the forest has grown on the graves and blood of the dead. Many wars against the Imperium were fought here and the veil to the beyond is thin. The legends say that one of the spirits that crossed over possessed a wolf that became Witherfang, who passed its curse of rage onto men and created the original werewolves."
"And if it is alive after all this time then it is immortal," she said softly.
Sarel nodded. "So it is said. Perhaps it cannot even be slain. At the very least it is old and powerful, much as Zathrian himself."
She did notice that Zathrian had not changed a bit since she'd last seen him. There were whispers that he'd rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors. But if that were true, then why wouldn't he have shared that knowledge? He would have had the power to help all of their people. No, something more was going on and she was starting to have a suspicion based on something Sarel had said. But before she could voice something so horrendous, she had to know why. "Have any of the hunters become werewolves?"
"It is said that one or two have turned already, though the keeper denies it. The rest will either die or turn unless…unless a cure is found in time."
Lyrica rose from the bench. "Then we will do what we can to find a cure. Dareth shiral, lethalin."
"Dareth shiral, lethalan."
She still wanted to speak to Lanaya before heading into the forest to see if she could uncover anything more about her suspicions. She considered seeking out Dyani and questioning her, but if she was heavy with child, she did not want to put her old friend under more stress. She would, however, talk to her before she left to return the king's main camp.
-BREAK TWO-
The second's face was as unfamiliar as her name. "Andaran atish'an, Lanaya. I do not recall seeing you at the last gathering."
"It is good to meet you, Lyrica. And no…no, you would not have seen me at the last gathering. I was…new to the clan and was far too shy to mingle with the others back then," she admitted. "I am told you were instrumental in bringing our Cammen and Gheyna back together."
Lyrica held up her hand. "I know what you are going to say. By tradition, Cammen is still da'len and the match is not appropriate. But the two are in love and in love they will find strength and that strength will give them the edge they need to overcome any challenges that they face."
Lanaya blinked. "You have…a way with words. It is not tradition, but nor can I deny what you have said." Perhaps, she did not know as much as she thought she did. Tradition was good, but nothing should be clung to blindly.
She inclined her head to the second. "Zathrian said he did not have time to talk with me much and that I should seek you out if I wanted to know more. Can you tell me more about Zathrian?"
"I can. He has been keeper of the Saoirse Clan for a very long time. He is also a very good man who has lost much. The dalish are everything to him and he would do anything to protect them," she told her.
Lost much? "Can you tell me what Zathrian has lost?"
She could, but should she? Lyrica was one of the people, so it certainly couldn't hurt anything. "He…lost his family. A very long time ago. I don't know the story, but I understand the circumstances were horrific."
"I can understand that. Horrific times are upon us again and it would seem that many have lost someone to horrific circumstances," Lyrica said quietly.
That is true. And Lyrica had lost someone dear to her heart too. "Yes. Ir abelas, lethalan. I heard what happened to Tamlen. I never had the chance to meet him, but the clan has always talked about those that have gone on to join other clans. He is remembered fondly."
Coming here was turning out more difficult that she'd imagined. Tamlen had not been here since he was a da'len, but still…he was everywhere. "Ma serannas, Lanaya. It is kind of you to say that. You mentioned you were new to the clan at the last gathering. Did you come from another clan?"
This was always the awkward part. "Ah…no. I was born amongst the humans. I came to the Dalish at a very young age, but I've always retained my curiosity about the world I came from."
She tilted her head. "If you do not mind me asking, how did you get from the humans to the Dalish?"
"My parents were servants to a human merchant whose caravans plied the southern routes. One day, bandits killed him and my parents both. I was the only survivor, just a young girl, and the bandits took me. I was their…servant…for several years."
"Ir abelas, Lethalan. My father was killed and my mother injured by humans and their elven servants, but I never faced what you did. My mother made it back to the clan to birth me before she ran off to die. What happened to you was far worse. That must have been terrible."
She was glad she was not attacked by her own. Their stories were different but similar. So much tragedy - So much death. "It was, though long years of reflection have allowed me to come to terms with it. I can only imagine what would have happened had the clan not saved me from them. I owe them my life for that. And more."
"They would never see it that way, Lanaya. You are a productive member of the clan – you owe them nothing. But…how did the clan save you from them?
The bandits killed a scout when the clan passed near their camp. When the clan discovered him, Zathrian came looking for his killers. He followed their tracks for almost a month. And when he finally caught up to us, he fell on the bandits like a terror. No one could stop him. I sat there and watching attack them in a blur, and I reveled in every blow. When he saw me the fury in his eyes turned to pity. He took me back to the clan and I have been here ever since."
"Did you have no other family that would have mourned your loss?" Lyrica asked softly.
She shrugged. "It's possible I might have had some. Maybe many. Zathrian offered to take me back, but I had no idea where I was from and I wanted to stay with the man who rescued me. The clan is my family. Any others out there…it's best they believe that little girl died with her parents. For now, the clan is all I need. My old world could not have offered me all this and knowledge of a keeper, as well. Perhaps, one day, when I am keeper, I might inquire out of curiosity. I am not sure what lies down that road except pain, however."
"Pain, perhaps, but likely only because you would not like to see your family living in an alienage or being trod upon by the shemlen, but there is also a great propensity for love to flourish. You may be all they have left of a cherished brother or sister. Do not wait overlong, Lanaya, because time waits for no one. Zathrian may yet be keeper for a great many more years. Dyani, as his first, will be keeper next. When the blight has been ended and if you are willing, I will help you find your family."
Lanaya nodded. "There is great wisdom in your words and perhaps I will take you up on your offer. You would have made a good keeper if…"
She grinned. "If I had more magic?"
"More? Do you have magic?" she asked curiously.
She frowned slightly as she bit her lip. "I prefer to call it a gift, rather than magic. I have an affinity with animals. I understand their thoughts and feelings and they understand mine. It is as if I…speak their language. But I have never picked up a staff, nor have I uttered a spell and I intend to keep it that way. I prefer to be a hunter, I always have."
"That is a remarkable…gift. Ma serannas, for sharing that with me. Dyani has talked of you a lot, but she never spoke of you being a mage. She is very protective of you. She loves you a great deal."
Lyrica's lips curved into a smile. "We were the closest of friends as children. We did everything together from the time that we could crawl. She will always be the sister of my heart. It was hard to watch her leave when she left with Zathrian. Let her know, if you will, that I will come see her after all of this is settled."
-BREAK TWO-
She nodded. "Of course. She is suffering a great deal of discomfort right now. I think see you would ease her in more ways than one. There is…something I would like to ask you. Since you have left your clan to become a Grey Warden. You have seen far more than I have ever seen. I hear human cities are very large; thousands upon thousands of souls all packed together in their houses. Is that true?"
"In some places. But it is usually the less fortunate that are packed together. The rich live in places so grand they could never hope to use all the space they have. But none of them can imagine how we live either."
Lanaya laughed and shook her head. "Really? I never thought of it like that. They truly couldn't imagine this kind of freedom? How…odd. I try to imagine those of our people living in such a place, surrounded by walls of stone and indifference. It…is a difficult thought."
"To them, we are the oddity. Wanderers with no home to call our own. No gardens or fields to grow food. No place to set down…roots. Many of our city brethren see us as arrogant savages who care nothing about them. And I agree - many of us do look down on them. We are one people, torn asunder. This divide needs to end; both sides are suffering because of it. How can we expect the other races to respect us when we cannot even respect our own? We will never be whole until we are once again one people and I hope I'm alive to see the day that happens."
"I – I had no idea they saw us in that way. It is said that one day we will have a land of our own. If that is so, perhaps the divide between the people can be mended."
"Many changes will be coming to Ferelden once King Kael and Queen Lorianna ascend to the throne," Lyrica told her. "Kael is of the Theirin bloodline, Maric's son, and they will soon be calling a Landsmeet to claim the throne. If they are successful, much will change."
Lanaya arched a brow. "You have that much faith in these shemlen?"
She nodded. "I do. I have met few people as fine as them. And I will do whatever I can to help them succeed. We all need them. Ferelden needs them."
Those were telling words. "How did you even meet them?"
"We met at Ostagar, during the battle. We," she said, motioning to her friends, "are part of a much larger group led by the king and queen. And they are backed by some powerful families. Every last one of us will fight to take down the traitors to the crown. Even Queen Anora will stand at our side against her father. With luck, the Landsmeet will just be a formality. But we will see."
That was a lot to take in. But if there could ever be a better future for their people…it was almost too much to dare to hope for. "It is almost too much to hope that things will be different for our people. But I have no doubt that once the curse is lifted, we will stand at your side and fight for that future."
"I am hoping it will not come to that – at least not to take the throne. But that must be done so that we can unite Ferelden under one banner to face the darkspawn, otherwise we stand no chance of defeating the blight. Civil war is tearing Ferelden apart. Soon, there will be no one left to battle the darkspawn. So very much rides on this."
"That is a terrifying thought. We will do our part once the curse is lifted. If I may – I have one more question, though I'm not sure you can answer it. Do the humans…ever regret…what they did to us?"
"I might be able to answer this better," Berchan cut in. "For one, we did not do this to you. Our ancestors were guilty of those crimes not us. Many of us have become complacent with how things are. That is our crime. There is cruelty and bigots among all the races; no race is free of it. We are all guilty of that crime. But there are also humans who treat everyone with dignity, regardless of race or what have you. My father is the Arl of Western Hills and all of our staff are treated the same, paid the same, given the same benefits. It is much the same in Highever. Do I regret what my ancestors did to the elves? No. It is not my crime, nor is it my guilt. But I am ashamed of what they did. And I do what I can to make up for the injustice. Just as Kael and Lor will do what they can to make up for it."
Lanaya was stunned by what she'd heard. "That –that is not what I expected to hear. Perhaps there is a chance for a better future for us all. Ferelden is not Thedas, but it would be start…if what you say comes to pass. I will speak your words to others so that we all know what is at stake and what is worth fighting for."
Lyrica inclined her head. "It has been nice getting to know you, Lanaya. Dareth shiral."
"Dareth shiral, lethalan. Creators protect you."
They didn't get very far when a young boy ran up to them.
"Garas," the child said as he waved his hand. "Ilora wished to speak with you before you leave."
She smiled at the little boy. "Aneth ara, de'lan," she said, gently reminding him of his manners.
He could feel the heat sting his cheeks. "Abelas. Aneth ara."
She held out her hand to the small boy. "Lead the way, da'len," she said when he took her hand. He released her hand and ran off to play once he'd taken her to the clan's master herder.
Ilora rose to greet the dalish Warden. "Aneth ara. Ma serannas for coming, lethalan."
Lyrica could feel the animal's unease. "Aneth ara, Ilora. I can see why you wished to see me. Something is bothering her. It is why you separated her from the herd?"
"Yes. I fear she may have been bitten during the werewolf attack. I have tried speaking with her but she is too agitated for me to understand. When I heard of you being here…I had hoped…"
She smiled at the woman. "Of course, I will help her." She lowered herself in front of the halla and looked into her eyes. She raised her hand and settled it against the hallas' neck. There was a golden glow from the contact. "Be calm, my sweet. I am ready to listen. Tell me what is bothering you." Pictures flooded into her mind and she was able to see the attack. "But the attack is over. What is causing you distress?" Other pictures now came to her. "So that is what you fear. Be brave. If the worst shall come to pass, then we will mourn with you and we will grow stronger together for it."
Lyrica patted the halla's neck and rose to face Ilora. "She is not ill. It was her life-mate that was bitten on the leg during the attack and she fears for him."
Ilora frowned, her heart heavy. "I did not realize another halla was injured. This will allow me to prevent the sickness from spreading to the entire herd. Ma serannas. You have done me a great boon this day. I will always be grateful for your help."
"I'm glad I was here. Dareth shiral, Ilora."
Berchan placed a hand on her shoulder as they walked away. "That was a remarkable thing you did. I always wondered why you spent so much time talking to the horses. I understood your words when you spoke of your gift, but seeing you use it and knowing what you were doing…it all makes sense now."
She looked up at him. "So you are okay with it…and what it implies?"
His brow rose. "That you are a mage? You know what my sister can do. My mother, brother and sister are also…gifted. I grew up around it. Why would you think I would be bothered about you being a mage?"
"Because they have no connection to the fade…to being possessed," she said drolly.
"Mages do have easier access to demons, but demons can possess anyone who is willing to let them in. I don't imagine most mages would want to lose who they were to a demon. I think the chantry uses that as an excuse to vilify them and keep them under control because they fear them. But that very fear and oppression is what leads the weak to blood magic and dealing with demons. But the chantry is too blind to see the truth," he told her.
Bethany clapped her hands. "I wish everyone saw as clearly as you do."
"Maybe one day they will. I was lucky enough to have been raised among the…unusual. So I learned not to fear it out of hand. Would that more people had that chance. Then ignorance would not play into their fears."
They returned to the scout Mithra and asked if they would be willing to care for their horses and keep them safe in their absence. Once that was agreed to they moved out of the camp clearing and into the forest. They did not have to go very far when the first attack occurred. Three werewolves and several wolves descended upon them. She called on one of the wolves to help them. She also managed to touch a werewolf that had its back turned to her. The pictures showed that it only sought to make them leave the forest…to protect some spirit lady from them. When it spun around to look at her, she assured it that she did not wish to harm anyone; she simply wanted to find a way to cure the werewolves of their plague.
"I do not wish to fight. I do not wish for anyone to die. If your spirit knows how to break the curse, then ask her to parlay with me."
"We do not trust you. Dalish only seek to harm us," it told her.
"Please ask your brothers to stop fighting for a moment." When it did, they all turned to look at her. She could see the distrust in their eyes. "My clan has been to this forest in the past and you have left us alone. Yet you attack the clan that is here now. So, it is not all dalish you hate."
"We hate those that have tormented us, dalish," it informed her. "You seek to kill Witherfang. We won't let you."
"Don't talk to her!" another growled.
"She means us no harm, but will fight if attacked to defend herself," it explained to its brother.
"She lies!"
"No, she doesn't. I saw the truth. She showed it to me. Show them the truth as you did me, dalish."
"My name is Lyrica. I only came here to because of the blight. The blight must be stopped or it will kill us all. The dalish signed a treaty with the Grey Wardens to fight in the next blight. But they cannot do so with so many that have fallen ill. So, yes. I need to help them…but I wish to help you as well. There has to be a way to stop the curse. No one should have to live like this. I simply ask you to ask your spirit if there is another way besides what Zathrian has suggested. If you wish to see the truth of my words, then show that you are courageous…give me your hands," she said as she held out her hands to the other two werewolves.
"Do it, cowards. You can see that I am myself and have suffered nothing from her touch," the leader told them.
They took her hands and she showed them what had happened at Ostagar, showed them the discovery of the treaties and pushed upon them her desire for peace and to end the curse. Her hands fell away. "I do not want to fight. No one needs to die. There has been too much death. With the blight on our doorstep we need to all stop fighting each other. I am only seeking a cure. If your spirit knows of one, I will listen."
"Tarrell, go to the Lady and let her know that the d – that Lyrica wishes to parlay with her about a cure. Ninia and I will remain with them to see that they stay out of trouble." When Tarrell departed he turned to the small dalish. "I am Naton. Or I used to be and she is Ninia. We want to go home. But we cannot as…monsters. The curse has put a rage within us that only the Lady has been able to quell. Without her we would be lost to the curse."
"So you seek to protect her and Witherfang. The story I was told was that a spirit bound to a wolf long ago. I can assume then, that this spirit is also Witherfang? If so, then I also assume that the spirit would wish to parlay with us rather than risking harm to come to those she cares about."
"You see well for a dalish," Ninia growled.
She inclined her head. "I am more than what I look like – just as you are. Do you know how this curse began? Perhaps that is the key to ending it."
Naton shook his head. "I do not know. The Lady would, mayhap Swiftrunner – but I do not know."
"Okay. Please come with us, there are things we need to do in the forest before we parlay."
"The forest holds more dangers to you than just us. We will follow you. Your presence is calming, as is the Lady's. What is it you seek in the forest?" Naton asked.
"We are looking for missing hunters, ironbark and a woman named Danyla – who might have become a werewolf."
Ah…the elven werewolf. Her transformation had not gone well. "I know of this woman you are looking for. She is not well. We will take you to her."
They followed Naton through the forest. When they passed a cave a great bear charged them. She stepped in front of the others and held her hand out towards the enraged bear.
"Surely, you do not think I will allow the bear close enough for you to touch it?" Berchan growled, his shield at the ready, his sword ready to swing.
"I do not need to touch it. It is only faster if I do." The bear slowed to a stop and hopped back and forth on its front feet. Its mouth opened and it roared at her, but did not advance. "We mean you no harm; we are only passing by your home. There is no need to fight. You need your strength – do not risk it on us. There is no need."
The bear nodded its massive head and turned back around to return to the darkness and sleep.
"All paths do not have to lead to the same destination," she said with a grin, repeating Kadar's words.
"You are wise and have a great power to sooth the savage beast. My Lady holds that same power. You have earned my respect," Naton informed her. "I don't know if I trust you, but I do respect you."
She looked from the black female werewolf to the blonde male. "Thank you, Naton. Trust and respect must be earned or it has no meaning."
The continued following him. Three more werewolves loped towards them as they began to cross a small, wooden bridge. The leader had a light golden brown pelt. The other two were shades of brown.
"The watch-wolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters. Two of our own travel with the dalish who comes to put us in our place, come to make us pay for our attack."
Naton stepped forward. "That is not so, Swiftrunner. Lyrica is not here for revenge. She wishes only to parlay with the Lady."
"Lies!" Swiftrunner growled. "How could you have fallen for her lies, brother?"
Naton gave a shake of his head. "They are not lies. We saw the truth in her memories. They are here for two reasons only. They seek aid in the fight against the blight, before it consumes us all, and she comes seeking a cure for the curse for all of us."
Swiftrunner growled. "The dalish so not want to talk – Zathrian wants only our destruction!"
She shook her head and squared her shoulders. "I am not of Zathrian's clan. And fighting amongst ourselves leads to less people to fight the blight. I do not want that. That is a fool's errand and I am no fool. I do not wish to fight you. I wish to help. But I cannot do that if you are not willing to listen. Let me show you what I showed your brother and sister, so that you may know the truth of my words."
When she held out her hands, he lowered his head and snarled at her. "Your words have merit. I do not wish to fight you either. But neither can I trust you. Come brothers and sisters, let us retreat. The forest has eyes of its own and it will deal with intruders as it always has." He looked at Naton and Ninia.
"I am sorry, brother," Ninia told him. "But we will not go with you. We know the truth you refuse to hear. Speak with the Lady. I am sure she would wish to parlay with the d – Lyrica."
Swiftrunner growled his displeasure. "Fools!" he snarled and disappeared back into the forest with the two he came with.
"I was hoping he'd see reason, but he's always been the oldest and most stubborn of us. Come, we will continue," Naton said with a scratch behind his ear. "Cursed fleas," he grumbled. "I cannot wait for the damned curse to be lifted."
They passed a waterfall to the east. The forest could be as beautiful as it was deadly.
"Wait!" Naton came to a stop and tilted his head, listening for what he thought he'd heard. "This way," he said and continued south. "There!" he pointed to an elven hunter that lay moaning on the ground.
She and Bethany hurried over to the injured man and knelt down next to him. "Aneth ara, lethalin. I am glad we have found you, hunter. I am Lyrica and this is Bethany."
He looked up at the two next to him. "You…are with…a…shemlen."
She touched his arm to soothe him. "Not all humans hate us, mir falon. Where were you injured?"
"We were hunting for Witherfang…attacked…by trees…" his world spun away and went dark.
"I can heal him," Bethany told her. She held her hand out towards the elf and chanted a healing spell, as if it were a mantra until his eyes opened once more.
Lyrica picked up a small figurine that appeared to be made of bone as the man awakened. It had fallen from his grasp when he fainted. "I believe this is yours," she said as she handed the figurine back to him.
"Ma serannas. It - it is lucky to me. It has kept me alive over the years." He looked from the elf to the human. "You have healed me."
"I am no mage," she said, feeling the heat creep into her cheeks. "It was Bethany that healed you, lethalin."
Gilmore stepped forward and helped the hunter rise to his feet.
"Ma sera – thank you," he told the human awkwardly. That was when he noticed the werewolves. He stumbled back in fear. "B- behind you…."
She could well understand his fear. "They are with us, hunter. They mean you no harm, right now. In fact, they are the ones that led me to you," she told them.
That news couldn't have shocked him more. "A…a werewolf helped me?" he shook his head. "That is…odd to hear. Er – you have my thanks." He turned his attention to Lyrica. "You have tamed them?"
"We are not dogs to be tamed, dalish! And I did not help you for your thanks. I did it for Lyrica. They wish to see the end of the curse, as do we. She has earned my respect and so we remain to aid her in lifting the curse," Naton growled out.
"I – yes…of course. But why would a werewolf help you kill Witherfang? That makes no sense, they are protecting the wolf," Deygan said with some confusion.
"Because I am not trying to kill Witherfang. I want to find another way to lift the curse. I am hoping the spirit this began with will know how to lift it. I seek to parlay with her. We sent another to speak with her and are awaiting her reply. Until then there were a few things I needed to do in the forest and one of those was to find the missing Saorise hunters. Are your hunter brothers alive?"
"No," he said with a somber shake of his head. "I was the only survivor. I am Deygan. I should get back to camp. I must tell them the fate of the others. Beware the sylvans."
"I will go with him, at least as far as I safely can, to see that he reaches the other dalish safely," Ninia said with chuff. "Then I will return."
Deygan's mouth opened and then shut tight, fear swamping him. "I – that's okay. I can make it back on my own."
"Do not be foolish, dalish," Ninia growled. "You would not survive the forest alone."
Lyrica placed a hand on the hunter's arm to calm him. "Go with her, Deygan. She knows what is at stake and will see you to safety."
His fear dissipated as if it were no more than smoke. "Of course. I can see the wisdom of your words. Ma serannas, for everything. Dareth shiral." He turned and followed the black werewolf.
-BREAK THREE-
She scrunched her nose in displeasure and sighed. "It is unfortunate more did not survive, but it is a relief to have found one of the hunters. Now I need only find the ironbark and Danyla. Oh – damn…and Aneirin, if we find him."
"Who is Aneirin?" Naton inquired.
"He is a lone elf that prefers solitude. He used to be a Circle mage; one of our friends, back at our camp, was also a Circle mage. She may know him and wish to know how he fares."
Naton nodded. "I have heard of this elf. He camps not far from the crazy one. Even we do not dare to cross the crazy one. He is a powerful mage that has killed many of my brothers and sisters. We have learned to keep our distance," he warned her.
"Thank you, Naton. We will be cautious," she agreed as they followed him deeper into the forest. There were times he stopped as if he was evaluating the region before deciding which path to follow. Perhaps, he was trying to avoid leading them through certain areas of danger. But he was their guide and she trusted him in the role. "Look! A campsite. It looks new. I wonder who it belonged to?"
Naton felt the wrongness. His ears flicked back and forth. "Do not linger here," he warned. "Something is not right."
She looked down at the wolf when it growled and nodded her agreement. Something was off about this place. "I know…I feel it too. I fear something bad has happened to the campers. There's a chest. Perhaps something was stored there that would explain who's camp this was. She knelt down in front of the chest and opened the lid. Inside were only two items. A ring and a pair of dalish gloves. She would return them to the clan to see if they were recognized. "It appears to have possibly been a dalish camp. Perhaps, this is where the hunters camped."
"We should leave now," Bethany warned.
"I agree completely," she said with a nod.
"Are you sure?" Gilmore asked with a yawn. "I could use a bit of rest."
Berchan stretched. "The man speaks sense."
She blinked. She felt lethargic too but that only increased the need to leave this place. "It is only mid day. And we have much left to do. And as Naton warned, it is not wise to tarry."
As they attempted to leave the camp a shade slipped out of the ground to attack them. She palmed her bow in a blink and let arrow after arrow fly, ever grateful for Sandal's replenishing rune. Bethany blasted it with immobilizing spells and the men hacked away at it. Between the five of them the shade gave up the ghost and sank back into the ground.
With its death the glamour was released and the campsite showed the truth behind the illusion. The tent was sagging and overgrown by vegetation, the fire was cold and bones and corpses in various stages of decomposition lay in a circle around the firepit.
Berchan frowned, his weariness gone as if it had never been. "It would appear we were meant to be dinner. To fall asleep and never awaken like these other poor bastards."
"Do you still want a nap, mountain man? I am sure there is room amongst the dead." she teased Berchan.
He grunted. "I suddenly have no desire for sleep. Let us leave this cursed place."
They continued around the bend to see a strangely formed, large tree. As they moved to skirt around it other trees stretched open their branches and advanced towards them.
Naton growled at the possessed trees. "Try to stay back from them! They can entrap you in their thorny roots!"
"Bethany! Do what you can. I'm afraid my arrows are less than useless against a tree, little more annoying than a mosquito." More trees came to life to attack them. "She can't do this on her own! There are too many. Go get them, boys! Focus on healing the men if they are entrapped. I have an idea." She pulled all of the arrows from her quiver and dropped all but one to the ground. She pulled out a poison that would instill nature damage, applied it thickly to the arrowhead and slid the arrow into her quiver. She pulled the bow off her shoulder and started firing the arrows at the trees, each one now tipped with the poison. So long as her arrows pierced the bark the poison would start weakening the trees.
Three times, one or more of the men were trapped in thorny roots. She could hear their grunts of pain and occasional whimper from the Naton, but there was nothing she could do for them. Bethany would have to keep them healed. Maybe it was time for her to learn healing spells. That, at least, did not require a staff.
When the trees were down she looked up at the gnarled, misshapen tree to see if it, too, would attack them. When its branches spread and it took a step towards them she gripped her bow tighter.
"Hmmm…what manner of beast be thee that comes before the elder tree?" it asked.
That was new. A possessed tree that wanted to talk to them. Certainly better than the alternative. "I am Lyrica, a dalish Grey Warden. I come with three humans and a werewolf."
"Two werewolves," Ninia said as she finally tracked them down.
"You do not wish to attack us?" she inquired cautiously.
"Ah, you speak of the others, how filled they are with hate? I apologize on their behalf, they cannot control their fate." It raised a branch tipped with what appeared to be a clawed hand. "Allow me a moment to welcome thee. I am called the Grand Oak, sometimes the Elder Tree."
Bethany quirked a brow. "A tree that speaks in rhymes. I would have loved to have had one in my backyard as a child."
"And unless thou thinks it far too soon, might I ask of you a boon?" it asked.
She couldn't help but smile at the tree. It was refreshing compared to the other creatures of the forest. "I will grant you a boon, but might I ask you some questions first?"
It brought it's clawed branch to its chest. "Ask what thee will, yes. I am curious, I confess."
"How did you come to be?"
"I am an elder oak and nothing more, though once I dreamt of a time before, when I roamed the world and howled with pain, not of this world but twixt and twain. Perhaps I was a spirit then? A wandering thing drawn to this glen? But then that spirit joined with a tree; since then a tree is all I be."
"Then why are the other trees more hostile than thee?" She ignored the heat that flared in her cheeks.
"Of the sylvans, this is true; they are quite mad, their virtues few. A spirit trapped within a tree, no mouth to scream no eyes to see. A cage of bark, a prison wood, a thing of rage where nature stood. So twisted sylvan they become, but I am not the same as some. I accepted my fated oaken home, I feel no need to rage and roam."
She wondered if it had been around since the beginning. "Have you been here since the wars?"
"Wars you say? I cannot tell. I was not here when they befell. But many deaths here, all the same, and with the deaths the spirits came. The spirits entered corpse and tree and most went mad as thou canst see. The forest had a spirit of its own, from back when its first seeds were sown. Perhaps she died of grief that day, or perhaps she simply went away. Or perhaps the weres are the ones to blame. The day she left is the day they came."
She was having far more fun with this than she should have been having. She had learned something very valuable. The Lady is a spirit the werewolves protected. The Lady was also Witherfang. And now she suspected that the Lady was also the spirit of the forest, because she left when the werewolves came. Sarel had told her that Witherfang was as old and powerful as Zathrian. Somehow Zathrian, the wolf and the Lady were all tied together. And although she knew the answer to the next question, she would ask it anyway, perhaps learning something new. "Why do they call this the Brecilian Forest?"
"That is but a human name, one placed upon this land, their claim. A claim they stole from ancient elves, whom they first killed, and were killed themselves."
The elves lived here until the Tevinter wars. The Tevinters killed the elves and then the Avaar killed the Tevinters. She knew the Lady was Witherfang. She knew the forest's spirit left the day the werewolves came. She knew Witherfang created the werewolves and that the weres were loyal to the Lady and Witherfang. She also knew that Zathrian had lost his family to horrendous circumstances. And if Zathrian was as old as Witherfang, he likely lost his family to Tevinter invaders. But there was one piece of the puzzle still missing. What did Zathrian have to do with the Lady and Witherfang? Why did the lady join with the wolf? Did she sicken of all the death and the spirits that had entered her demesne and sought to leave the forest? Or did Zathrian have something to do with it? He was a mage. With blood magic he could have fused the spirit to the wolf, but if so, why? To avenge the deaths of his family? Possibly. But it was just as likely the Lady wanted to leave a forest overrun with enraged spirits.
"Where is the werewolf's lair?"
Naton growled. "We should wait for the Lady!"
The tree turned towards the voice of the were. "The Lady of the Forest is with thee? She is the spirit that once did flee." He turned back to where the elf's voice was. "In the center of the forest the weres do dwell, or so go the tales my fellows tell. But they cannot be followed there; the forest doth protect the weres."
So the Lady was the forest's spirit. It was she that protected the weres and commanded the forest. "Then how do we get to the center of the forest?"
"The lady would bid us entry. We cannot protect you from all our brethren, there are far too many," Naton warned.
"Perform the boon as I ask and I shall reward thee for thy task. I have but one desire, to resolve a matter very dire. As I slept one early morn, a thief did come to steal an acorn. All I have is my being, my seed. Without it I am alone, indeed. I cannot go and seek it out, yet I shall die if left without."
"Normally, I would help without favor owed, but I must soon reach the center's Hold. So I will find your stolen seed if you would help me with my need." She rubbed her flaming cheeks when the humans laughed at what she'd said.
"Go to the east to find this man. I shall await, do what thou can." He raised his branches and fell back into a slumber.
Naton growled softly. "I do not like this."
"Nor do I," Ninia agreed.
She placed her hand on the werewolf's arm to calm him. "I understand that. But we may not hear back from the Lady in time or she may disbelieve my intent is to do no harm. If that is the case, I must find another way to reach her. We cannot parlay if we do not meet," she reminded him.
"Fine," he grumbled. "Then I will take you east - just be prepared to charm the beast…" He shook his head and growled. "Damned oak tree."
They followed him in a north eastern direction; again he appeared to choose their path carefully, stopping every so often to inhale the scent on the breeze. They pulled up when he came to a stop.
"We are entering the eastern forest now. The paths are tight; there is little chance of skirting battles. Be prepared for anything," Naton warned them.
She placed her hand on the wolf's head and scratched behind his ears.
Naton looked at the gesture and then at Lyrica. "You are not thinking of doing that to me." It was not a question.
She grinned. "You might just like it," she teased. "He certainly has no objections."
His eyes narrowed but he hunched down. Her hands slid through his fur and he closed his eyes when her hands massaged his ears and then slipped behind them for a scratch. He blinked and shook his head when her hands stilled and moved away. "Damn me, that did feel nice." He glanced over at Ninia, whose lips were spread in a toothy smile and rose to his full height. "We will speak no more of this."
He led them down the narrow path, where the path ended in either going to the left or right; three sylvans opened their branches to attack them. But they knew the routine by now and they were getting pretty good at being fleet of foot when the ground began to tremble beneath them. They were only entrapped once this time, though Ninia had managed to dart far enough away to avoid being trapped with them. When the trees were down, they took the left. "This is where I lost saw our newest, sick, member."
As they drew closer, four werewolves charged them. Naton and Ninia stepped in front of the other, spread their claws and growled at their brethren. The four werewolves pulled to a stop.
Gunter scratched his chest. "What are you doing, brother? Step aside. We must protect the Lady!"
"We are escorting her to the Lady. She wishes to parlay to find a cure for us all," Naton explained.
"Lies! She is dalish, she seeks only our destruction," Gunter pointed out.
She stepped between Nator and Nilia, both of which refused to let her pass them. She glowed softly as she forced out waves of calming energy. "I am not Zathrian and I harbor no ill will towards you. If it is possible, I want to save you. Regardless whether you are elf or human, no one deserves this curse. I believe the Lady of the Forest may have the answers I seek. She will know how the curse came about and, I hope, how to end it."
"You will harm her," though it was obvious there was a lack of conviction in his voice.
"No. That is not my intent. We must stop killing each other when the blight is trying to kill us all. Do you wish to be devoured by the darkspawn? The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Only a fool fights an ally when the enemy is surrounding them."
"Your words are…wise, but we cannot trust you – you are dalish," Gunter said with a snarl.
"You seem a monster, but you are no mindless beast, you are more. I seem a dalish, but I, too, am more. I am a Grey Warden and we are here to save you and gain allies to battle the blight. Nothing more," she told him.
"She speaks the truth, brother. We have seen the proof of her memories. Return to the Lair; speak to Tarrell or the Lady. If you do not like their words, then you are welcome to hunt us. But know that should you choose to do so we will not stay our claws," Ninia warned with a chuff.
Gunter took a step backwards. "I will do as you say, sister. You may pass for now, until we know the Lady's wishes." He nodded to his brothers and turned to lope away.
"That went better than I'd hoped," Gilmore said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Ninia pointed further up the path. "She is there."
Lyrica looked in the direction Ninia was pointing to see a werewolf down on one knee, its body shuddering. Her heart grew heavier with each step towards the downed were.
Danyla weakly lifted her head to see who approached her. "P-please…help…listen…I am not…the mindless beast I appear. They – I am cursed, turned into this creature. The curse, it…it burns in me! I…fled into the forest. The werewolves, they…took me in. But I had to return. I had to!"
"Danyla? Is that you?" she asked gently.
"You know of…me? Then listen. My husband…he is called Athras. Please, you must…bring him a message. The scarf I wear…bring it to him. Tell him I love him. Tell him...I am dead and with the…the gods. I beg you…"
"I've spoken with Athras. You are all he thinks about. He loves you and worries greatly for you," she admitted.
"I – I want him to be at peace… He is a good man. Please do not…let him suffer thinking of me." She growled when a wave of pain twisted inside of her. "The pain! The curse…is fire in my blood! Please! Ma halani! End it for me! End it quickly!" Danyla begged.
"No!" Bethany said louder than she'd intended. "I can heal you."
Pain coursed through her body like a live wire, like acid eating her from the inside out. She couldn't take it anymore. "Magic…will not work against…the curse! Ahh! You must…must end it!"
Bethany looked at Lyrica. "I can put her to sleep – she will not feel the pain."
Lyrica's brows rose. "Will you need to stay with her to maintain it? How long will it last?"
"I do not need to remain with her, but someone should to protect her from predators. And if I pour enough magic into the spell it could last the rest of the day." She turned to Danyla. "We are seeking out the Lady to find a way to end the curse. I do not want you to die if it can be lifted. I can put you to sleep so that you feel nothing. If we are not successful or do not return in time, we will aid you in your death then."
Ninia nodded and scratched her side. "I will stay with her and guard her while she sleeps. If she awakens before you return, I will give her the death she seeks."
Danyla lowered herself to the ground, her body shuddering and contorting with a pain that was an endless nightmare. Lyrica laid a hand against her shoulder to calm her while Bethany chanted a spell, drawing more power from the fade with each repetition. She continued for a few minutes after Danyla's body relaxed.
Bethany wiped her brow. "It is done. Now, we should hurry. Thank you, Ninia, for volunteering to watch over her."
"Regardless of anything else, she is a sister. Be quick," Ninia told them with a shooing motion of her claws.
Naton led them back the way they'd come and turned left, following the curving path. When a path opened to the left, Naton stopped and lifted his muzzle into the air. No," he shook his head. He could smell bears and the stench of ogres. There was nothing that way they wanted to face. He continued forward and came to another stop at the next path spoke. He nodded when he smelled the human scent of the crazy man. He loped towards the scent and then motioned the others forward ahead of him. They were the ones that needed to speak to the hermit. He would be nothing more than a monster to the man.
She looked around the clearing, it was a campsite of sorts, but it appeared to be empty.
"He is here," Naton growled.
She blinked at the flash of light and an old, bearded man appeared before her.
He looked around and shook his head, his hand rising to his forehead as if to block out the sight before him. "Oh dear, oh dear! What are the woods coming to? So many…odd beings here."
"Hello…there. I am looking for an acorn, did you happen to find one earlier today?" she asked as politely as she could. The man seemed unstable. She could see why they thought him mad. And the mad were, by their very nature, unpredictable.
"Mayhap I did and mayhap I didn't. Have you come to claim it back? Oh, what fun! But we are getting ahead of ourselves already. Ask a question and you'll get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same! Oh, I do so love to trade!"
"Be careful, Lyrica. I can sense the power in him," Bethany warned.
"No fair bringing a mage to a guessing game! Will you play by the rules or not?" the hermit demanded.
The statement was odd considering he, himself, was a mage. And that was a cycle she did not care to deal with. If she asked a question he would ask a question. That would not answer her question. And she could not make a statement because it would be an answer to a question he never asked. Maybe she was over-thinking the whole ordeal, but the less she had to deal with the man the safer it would be. So she decided to skip to the chase instead of chasing her tail in dialogue with him. "I would like to acquire your acorn."
"Ahhhhh….suddenly it all becomes clear. You're here, that talking tree there. It all makes sense now. As a matter of fact, yes, I do have that tree's acorn. I stole it and it was easy. Silly tree should have locked it up tighter. If you want it, you'll have to trade me for it. And nothing from that silly tree…no leaves or branches or anything. But that's all I have to say about that. An answer for an answer, there you go."
"Will you trade me for the acorn?" she asked.
"You? Why would I want you? Are you daft?" He gave a shrill laugh. "I do not need a pretty, little elf. What else do you have to trade? A question for a question, there you go."
That wasn't exactly what she'd meant. She looked down at the two rings on her fingers. One had been from Tamlen, the other from the keeper. Both were precious to her. With a soft release of breath she pulled the ring the keeper had given her off her finger. "Would you be willing to take this inscribed ring in exchange for the acorn?"
She cringed when he took the ring and bit down on it, before looking at the inscription and then settling it back onto her palm. She could see his saliva shining on the ring and just wanted to drop it and shake the yuck from her hand.
"Hmmm… "he said as he stroked his beard. "Well, I do have many fingers and it might be good for something. "Gimme that!" he said briskly as he grabbed the ring back and replaced it with the acorn. "There! Now that's done. What else have you got on your agenda, hmm? Are you here to spy on me?"
"Not at all. It was…interesting meeting you, but I should go," she said, trying to slip away from additional conversation.
"Oh, I see. You're going to report to them now, are you? Fine. Good bye!" he darted over to his chest and dropped something into it.
-BREAK FOUR-
Naton pointed further up the trail. "Up there – the other you seek."
The other? Oh – Aneirin. She took the lead with Berchan at her side. She could understand the Naton's reluctance to lead them at the moment. He was considered a monster…an enemy. She saw the mage rise at their approach.
"Give me a moment…I must…find a bush," Berchan told her.
A dalish. Then he would not have to warn her of the dangers of the forest. "Andaran atish'an. You are dalish, but not a face I know. I am Aneirin. I am surprised to see you with so many – werewolf!" He pulled his staff free.
She held her hand up quickly. "No! Naton is with us. He is our guide and …protector in the forest."
He settled the bottom of his staff on the ground, but was not comfortable enough to put it away. "You are dalish – yet it does not attack."
"He has no reason to attack me. We want the same thing. An end to the curse. It is something I hope to find for human and elf alike. No one should have to suffer under the curse," she explained.
He debated his actions and then chose to put up his staff. It would not be courteous for him be armed when the others were not. "It is not often I see humans and elves helping each other. I must admit I am surprised."
That was an odd thing to say. "Didn't you see humans and elves working together in the Circle?"
Aneirin shook his head. "I spent more time with myself than others. I did not really….fit in there." He looked from the dalish to the human mage.
"Ir abelas, Aneirin. I am Lyrica, and my friends are Bethany, Gilmore and Naton. Berchan is the man that a… will be right back."
His brows drew together. "Are you and Bethany from the Circle? Do you know Irving or…Wynne?" he asked cautiously. She had been a stern taskmaster at the time, but he'd made peace with his past long ago.
She shook her head. "Neither of us have been to the Circle and I'm not…I don't consider myself a mage. I walked a different path."
He tilted his head at her odd words. You cannot just decide you are not a mage. You either were one or you were not one. "Don't the templars sense your magic?"
Again, she shook her head. "No. But then I've only really spent any time around one and he never took his vows. As for magic…I don't use it. Or at least I do not speak any spells. I have an affinity with animals and that is all. But I did meet Wynne a few weeks ago. She was fine when I last saw her."
He nodded. It was unfortunate that people had to hide what they were to survive in a world that did not understand or want them. Most mages just wanted to live in peace and were denied that most basic right. At least, it should be a right. "That is good to hear. She was my mentor…for a time. She taught me more than she knew."
She smiled at him. "If I see her again I will let her know you are well."
He inclined his head. "Ma serannas. I appreciate that. I couldn't help but notice the armor your men wear. They are Grey Wardens?"
"They are. I am. They just – er…lacked any armor that would fit me," she admitted with an easy laugh.
His eyes widened in surprise. That he had not expected to hear. "I am…stunned. A dalish Grey Warden. As far as I am aware there have been very, very few. It is good to see the dalish recognized for what they can do." He looked up at the giant human as he returned.
That was still an uncomfortable subject for her. She never wanted to a Grey Warden. She never wanted to leave her clan. She had wanted to marry Tamlen. She cared for the new people who had come into her life, but she still missed everything she'd lost. She would never be that woman again. "Ma serannas for talking with me, Aneirin. I must go; we have a curse to end. I hope to see you again sometime. Dareth shiral, falon."
He inclined his head, an appreciative grin on his face. "I will stay here until the clan leaves. May we meet again…soon, lethalan. Dareth shiral." His brow arched when he saw the very large human place an arm around her back as they walked away. Perhaps she was not free after all. If not, her choice was…disquieting.
Gilmore laughed at his friend. "What's the matter, Berchan? Staking your claim?" he teased.
Was he? "It's not…I…it's not like that." Or was it? He had not liked the look the elf had given her, that was true. No, it was more than that. Somehow, over the last few weeks, she'd slipped under his skin and into his heart and it had not been something he anticipated happening. He couldn't put his finger on any specific event that happened to change how he felt about her. It had been gradual and unnoticed. What made it all the more wrong was that she'd lost someone she loved and still mourned him. His feelings for her were irresponsible and foolish.
"Isn't it?" Naton asked gruffly as he blew a hard puff of breath out his nostrils to clear them of the scent. "Your pheromones say otherwise."
She felt like she'd blinked and missed part of the conversation. "What are we talking about? Have you found some land you want?" She knew humans claimed land, but that didn't seem to fit the conversation so she was at a loss.
"He's found something he wants," Gilmore said with a chuckle. He grunted when Bethany elbowed him.
"Don't push. He will be ready when he's ready," she admonished him.
Naton's lips curled up to bear his teeth. Had he been this dense as a human? "He's ready. Just take her as your mate and be done with this foolishness!"
The werewolf didn't know all the facts. He didn't know that Lyrica had lost someone she would have wed not so very long ago. "You don't know all the facts – let it go, Naton," Berchan warned.
That brought her to an abrupt stop. She turned and placed the flat of her hand against his chestplate. "You've been talking about me?"
His large hand engulfed hers. "It – it's nonsense. Don't worry about. They were just…teasing me and they crossed a line they should not have," he tried to explain.
Taking her as a mate would be nonsense, he'd said. She looked down at their hands and wondered why his words stung. A slow breath escaped her. "He's right. What you are thinking is nonsense. Humans don't see elves in that…um…kind of way. We are good for a tumble or for doing menial tasks they do not wish to do, but little else. It is just the way of life. He is a friend and a…a lover – and that's all he'll ever be." Right now he was a port in the storm, but she knew she wouldn't be able to keep that up for much longer. She wasn't the type of woman for casual relationships and she could not afford to risk her heart on a human. That would only lead to heartbreak and she'd had enough of that already.
Naton's lips curled back to show his teeth. "I am – was a human and I married an elf," he bit out, offended by her words.
"Were you a noble man?" she asked curiously. Not that it would have mattered much. There was a divide, regardless of status, but she suspected the divide would be wider when it came to nobility. Though, in truth, it was just a guess. She knew little of human nobility outside of the basics that her clan knew and what she'd been able to glean from the others in their main camp.
He scratched behind his ear and shook his head. "I was a merchant. But if being a nobleman meant I could not have my wife then I am glad that I am not one. I have no wish to be bound by such foolish dogma and I would not have let myself be a prisoner to bigotry. I want nothing more than to return to my wife a man and not a monster."
She nodded and stepped away from Berchan to follow Naton to the barrier that led to the center of the forest. "That is what I want for you too. It was a brave thing you both did in the name of love. Most would have buckled under the pressure."
He nodded. "We were made to feel unwelcome in the alienage at first, but we are tolerated well enough now. People were more willing to ignore their biases when they are in need of our supplies. But we would never have let that stop us. Love is worth fighting for, so I have little tolerance for games."
Berchan followed at her side, silently digesting her words. While her words were true for most humans they were not true for him. He did not believe that elves were only good for a tumble or menial tasks. And there were mixed marriages in the Western Hills Arling. None in his family, but he knew his mother wouldn't think twice about it. His father, while a progressive man due to his wife's influence, might not be so accepting if he married an elf, but he had little doubt his mother could -… He inhaled sharply at the direction his thoughts had taken him. He needed to pull back the reins. One step at a time, Berchan.
He took her hand. "You are wrong," he stated quietly. "If we ever had something more than…this, I would not be adverse to it. But you are grieving…regardless, I'll be there for you in any way you have need of me."
She stopped and looked up at him with startled eyes. "I-" she looked around at the others. "We'll talk about this later."
Maybe he should have kept his feelings to himself. He did not want to push her away. He forced a smile and nodded. Maker help him, he hoped he had not damaged what they had.
Outside of some light banter, the trip back to the Elder Tree was pretty quiet. As she approached the tree its branches spread.
"Greetings to thee, once again. Hast thou found my acorn, then?"
She struggled to get the larger than normal acorn out of her pocket. After a handful of grunts and tugs, the acorn slipped free from its prison and she held it out to the Elder Tree. "I do believe this is yours?"
He gently plucked the acorn from her palm. "My joy soars to new heights, indeed! I am reunited with my seed! As I promised, here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee. Keep this branch of mine with thee and pass throughout the forest free."
She took the branch he offered and shuddered at the feel of the power that coursed through it. She didn't want to touch the staff. It connected to something deep inside of her and it was not a connection she wanted. She inclined her head. "Thank you, wise and ancient tree."
"I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, they winters kind and thy roots be strong." It nestled its acorn tight within its branches and fell into a slumber.
"Are you okay?" Berchan asked quietly. He could see her struggle but did not understand it.
She squared her shoulder and nodded. It felt like bugs crawling under her skin. Her dormant power awakening to the staff in her hand. She wanted to give it to someone else to hold. But she was their leader and she would not falter. This was her burden to bear. "I will be," she said with a nod. Since she had no strap to hold the staff in place on her back she used in the fashion of a walking stick. "Let us get to that barrier."
As Naton led them back through the forest, Berchan's gaze kept returning to Lyrica. He knew something was wrong. He could see it in the stiffness of her body…in the pained look on her face, but he also knew she would only tell him when she was ready to.
She came to a halt when something, that felt almost like a shadow crawled over her skin. That wasn't exactly right, but it was the best description she could give it.
The were shook his head. He smelled the dark things too. "We must go," Naton said in warning. "What you sense is a plague that cannot be cured here. To give it time may cost more lives. Come this way," he said to lead them around the encounter.
She gripped the staff harder, her head bent down as she fought the power that surged through her. Her body shuddered and sweat dripped from her brow, but she couldn't stop what was happening. Her cry was piercing when the magic erupted over her body, enveloping it in a crackling blue glow.
Bethany rushed over to her. "No one touch her! Do not hold it in, Lyrica, it will tear you apart. You must give it a path!" She spoke the words to a healing spell. "Now, repeat what I told you and it will heal rather than destroy."
She swore she would utter no spells, but they pain was only intensifying. She murmured the words Bethany had given her over and over until the pain ebbed away along with the burst of encapsulating magic. She had failed twice over. Once in containing it and yet again with the oath she'd spoken many years ago to never use magic.
Berchan took the stick from her hand, handed it over to Bethany and pulled Lyrica into his arms as soon as it was safe to do so. He frowned when she remained stiff. "There is no shame in losing a battle to something stronger. Some battles are won, some are lost. But this battle was not one you had to face. Any one of us would have been willing to hold the stick, but you refused to tell us there was a problem."
She gripped the side of his chestplate. "Because I was determined to beat it. But I failed."
Bethany laid a hand on her arm and rubbed it gently. "You were fighting a battle you never learned the rules to. No one could have won in that situation. I know you don't want to use magic. But you need to learn how to control it. This time only you were hurt, but next time it could be someone you care about or a child."
Her hand fell from Berchan's armor. "I know," she murmured quietly. "I want to say that I simply won't handle any more staves and that will solve everything, but it won't. I can still feel it inside of me like a coiled snake." She shuddered. "I don't like the feeling – I want it to go back to sleep. I don't – I don't want to be a danger to anyone else." She lifted dejected golden sea-green eyes up to meet Bethany's bright blue eyes. "I won't carry a staff or become…become a mage, but if you will help me, I'll learn how to control it." Her gaze hardened. "Because I refuse to let anything control me."
Bethany smiled and nodded, brushing the smaller elven woman's light brown hair from her cheek. "Of course I will. We'll start on our journey back to the main camp."
She blinked, stepped away from Berchan and Bethany and drew her bow. "Their coming."
"I feel it too," Gilmore agreed as he pulled his sword and shield.
"Who's coming?" Berchan asked, pulling his own weapons. That's when he saw the first of the darkspawn heading towards them. "Well, shit." He hoped he'd start feeling them soon. Better than being caught with his pants down.
"I thought we'd be able to skirt around them, but they found us anyway," Naton growled as he charged towards the arrivals with a howl of rage.
"Don't bite it!" she yelled as she shot arrows into any exposed place she could find, namely neck, eyes and mouths. They weren't the easiest to hit, but she was damned good judging arrow trajectory variables. And unless they were too far away or just got damned lucky, most of the hits were fatal. Of course, these kinds of shots were strictly limited to darkspawn or demons. Other beings would always have the chance to surrender.
She noticed Bethany was using the staff from the Elder Tree. That made sense since she had to carry it. The strap the held her dual silver ball tipped staff had only room for one such weapon. She still swung it if anything got too close. It was a slight deterrent, but it didn't do the same kind of damage as the silver balls could do.
When an ogre charged out of nowhere and knocked Berchan aside, she aimed carefully and loosed her arrow. It sank into his eye, but not deep enough to reach his brain. She grimaced when he yanked it out, taking the eye with it. He roared and charged her. Come on…come on you stupid beast. Let me see the other one.
Something slammed her in the side, knocking her over and lunged towards the ogre. She followed through with the roll and sprang back up in time to take a shot from the side, distracting the ogre from the wolf that knocked her out of its path. The arrow sank deep this time and the ogre stood, wavering on its feet for a moment. Naton charged the ogre, twisted his body when he sprang and used his feet to rebound off the ogre's chest. That was all it took to cause it fall backwards. The weight of the ogre's landing shook the ground beneath their feet, but it also spelled the end of the battle.
She looked at the were's muzzle, but it was free of blood. Her wolf's, however, was not. At least the kennel master at Ostagar had showed her how to cure the wolf if it grew sick.
"The stick is humming," Bethany remarked as the approached the barrier. She moved to the front of the group and crossed the barrier first. They weren't sure what would happen. It was suspected that they would have to hold hands so that everyone could benefit from the stick, but that was not the case at all. The barrier dissipated as she walked through it. "Well, that was easier than expected."
Lyrica took over the lead once more. As the moved towards the ruins four werewolves loped out to confront them, Swiftrunner at their lead.
"The forest has not been vigilant enough. Still you come," he growled. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Naton. "And still you follow the dalish."
Naton's lips curled. "And still you are an ass. I follow because I believe in her. I seek an end to this curse, just as she does. The Lady will want to talk to her. Let us pass or we will go through you," he snarled.
Swiftrunner hunched forward and bared his teeth. "Leave this place!"
She glared at the brown were. "I will not! Too much lies on ending this curse. I will speak to the Lady, Swiftrunner. I don't want to fight you, but nor will I leave. Take me to her so that we may talk."
He growled when the large human stepped up beside her. "You are dalish! The only thing you want is to kill Witherfang! I will not stand by and allow that to happen! Here Witherfang protects us. Here we learn our names and are beloved. We will defend Witherfang and this place with our lives!"
"Then you would be throwing your lives away for nothing! I didn't come here to fight! I came here to talk – to free you of the curse! Stand down, Swiftrunner. No blood needs to be spilled this day. Has the Lady refused to parley?"
"Swiftrunner, you know what the Lady wants…" warned one of the weres with him.
"No!" he snarled at the were. "I will not risk her life. I do not trust the dalish!" He opened his claws and growled at the intruders. He took a step back when a large, white wolf with vines veining its legs jumped down between the two groups.
Witherfang looked up at Swiftrunner and shook his head. He turned to face the others. He studied the group, surprised to see one of their own with them. He nodded his head and then jerked his head towards the ruins, before bounding away.
Swiftrunner gnashed his teeth. "Follow me. But if you do anything to hurt the Lady, I will kill you," he warned. He led them through the stone pillars and into the ruins. He took them down the stairs and turned right at the great hall to proceed down another group of stairs to a door. There was a loud sliding click he opened the door and led the group into the chamber.
-BREAK FIVE-
Werewolves lined either side, growling as they were escorted between them. Sylvan trees were also scattered about, but as of yet none attacked. Swiftrunner turned as he walked up onto a raised, circular platform, to face the intruders. When a naked, greenish woman with vines veining up her limbs appeared from nowhere, the weres started snarling more savagely. She touched Swiftrunner, who was by the far the most vocal and aggressive and her touch soothed the beast within. He knelt down next to her. The other weres followed suit, even Naton, who had been standing protectively next to Lyrica.
"I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest."
Lyrica inclined her head to the Lady. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me. And thank you for preventing Swiftrunner from attacking us. I had no wish to fight him. I only wish to lift the curse."
"Do not listen to her, Lady! She will betray you! We must attack her now!" Swiftrunner snarled.
"Hush, Swiftrunner. Your urge for battle will only see the death of the very ones you want to protect. Is that what you want?" the Lady asked softly.
He lowered his head. "No, my lady. Anything but that."
"Then the time has come to speak to this outsider, to set our rage aside." She turned to look at the intruders. "I apologize on Swiftrunner's behalf. He struggles with his nature."
She gave a slight nod; it was something she knew all too well. "I fear that is trait that most share, though not usually to such a degree."
"And so it is." She tilted her head. "You are attuned to nature. I feel its heartbeat in you. Is that how you soothed Naton?"
She inclined her head. "Yes, Lady. It is a gift that I was born with. I hear the whispers of the trees on the winds. I hear the contented sighs of the blooms as their petals reach out for the warmth of the sun. I feel the pain and joy of the life around me and I do what I can to ease it."
"That is more than I expected from a mortal. I have become what you have always been. We are not so different, you and I," the Lady said thoughtfully.
Naton rose to his feet. "With her touch, I saw the truth," he admitted. "She showed me pictures…memories of what had happened and I knew I had to help her reach you, my Lady."
She looked from Naton to the dalish. "I find myself intrigued. Would you share these truths with me?"
She shook her head with a grimace. "I would do so, but it requires physical contact and I doubt that Swiftrunner would allow me to touch you, Lady. And…were I to establish such a connection, I would have access to your memories as well," she warned.
"I would welcome your touch and the sharing of memories. There are things Zathrian has not told you." When Swiftrunner snarled, she ran her long; branch-like fingers through his course fur to sooth him.
Lyrica chewed on her lower lip for a moment and then gave a slight nod. "I have put most of the pieces together already. But I would welcome seeing the truth of what I believe. If I may approach you."
"Of course," the Lady responded, holding her arms towards the dalish.
She moved forward and lifted a hand to settle it on the spirit's shoulder. She showed her the treaties they'd found, the war against the blight at Ostagar and the betrayal. She showed her the group that would stand against the blight. She then showed her the suffering of the elves and how Danyla awaited to be healed with Ninia watching over her. She showed her the darkspawn that had breached her forest.
In return she saw the spirit ripped from the womb of the forest and forced into a white wolf for the sake of revenge. It was turned upon the humans. And when it broke free from Zathrian's control, the rage and pain overwhelmed it. Eventually it mastered its rage and when the weres its rage had created sought it out, it soothed them well. It finally knew love and family. Now, it only sought release to return that which it once was.
Lyrica released a heavy breath and took a step away. "It was as I suspected. The curse originated with Zathrian."
"It did. There were things I could not show you, because I did not see them with eyes as you do. Centuries ago, when the dalish first came to this land, a tribe of humans lived close to the forest. They sought to drive the dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then. He had a son and daughter he loved greatly and while out hunting the human tribe captured them both."
Swiftrunner growled. "The humans…tortured the boy, killed him. The girl they raped and left for dead. The dalish found her, but she learned later she was…with child. She…killed herself."
There was no way to know if those humans were an ancient Tevinter tribe or some other tribe. She was curious, but it held no relevance to the story. "What they did was atrocious. They deserved death. But you did not deserve what happened to you. What Zathrian did was wrong, despite his grief."
"I've grown past the hate I once had for him. Through his actions I learned much about life, but that knowledge came at a great expense," the Lady said as she ran her wooden fingers through Swiftrunner's thick, brown hair.
Swiftrunner once again knelt in front of his Lady. "I was lost until I found you, my Lady."
"I showed Swiftrunner that there was another side to his bestial nature. I soothed his rage and his humanity emerged. He then brought others to me."
"So you tried to force a confrontation with Zathrian?" Lyrica asked, having seen that the spirit sought release.
The Lady inclined her head. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time his landships passed this way, asking him to come, but he has always ignored us. We will no longer be denied."
"We spread the curse to his people so that he must end the curse to save them!" Swiftrunner growled out.
"Please, mortal…you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight…surely he will agree to end the curse."
What was allowed to happen was reprehensible. "I will do as you ask. I will try to get him to come. It is long past time to end the curse."
The Lady's eyes narrowed. She had little faith in Zathrian. "Tell him if he refuses, I will ensure that he never finds Witherfang. He will never cure his clan."
She rubbed her forehead in frustration. "Would that you had not said that, Lady. Two wrongs do not make a right and one revenge only compounds another. In this, you sound like Zathrian," she released a slow breath. "But I will do what I can to bring him here. This needs to end. Come," she said to her companions. "Let's end this." She looked up at Naton. "Please, stay here, my friend. I do not wish any harm to come to you. I will be back shortly, one way or another."
Naton scratched his side and inclined his head. "I do not like this, but I will accept your judgment."
They retreated back out the door they'd come in and hurried up the stairs. She was not expecting to find Zathrian in the main chamber. Perhaps, he feared what she would learn and did not think she would bring back Witherfang's heart. In that he was correct.
Zathrian rose from the corpse he'd been studying. "Ah. And here you are already."
"It would seem you saved me a trip back to camp. Gara quenathra? Why are you here?" she asked cautiously.
"You carved a safe enough path through the forest…at least safe enough for me to follow," he responded matter of fact.
But that wasn't exactly true. They'd skirted much of the danger.
"Ha!" Berchan replied with a hearty laugh. "You feared we would not bring back the heart and sought to make sure it was done."
He studied the larger human and then inclined his head. "Do you have the heart?"
She crossed her arms under her chest. "No. The Lady requests your appearance. If you do not agree to meet with her, she will ensure you never find Witherfang."
He began to pace. After a moment he came to a stop. "You do understand that she actually is Witherfang?"
She pursed her lips. "I understand a great deal. I put all the pieces together except for the final one. Did she willingly leave the forest or did you bind her to the wolf. I assumed you bound her when I saw Witherfang briefly before we entered the ruin. He did not look like any normal wolf. She confirmed my suspicions. Still, it is the heart of the wolf you seek, not the heart of a spirit…which they likely do not physically have anyway."
"I did not realize you would learn so much. But you must understand, her nature is of the forest itself. Beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. She is the Lady and Witherfang both, two sides of a single being. The curse came from her. Those she afflicted with it mirrored her own nature, becoming savage beast as well as…human."
Naton had not been able to remain behind. He wanted to ensure they made it through the forest safely. So he followed and he listened. "But it was you that bound her…you that caused her such torment and pain. That pain caused her to lash out. She was blind to everything but the pain and the rage of being forced into being. It took her many long years to find herself again and eventually we found her. She soothed our pain as she had soothed her own. In doing so, we remembered who we were and what was taken from us," Naton grumbled as he stepped from the doorway to join the group.
Zathrian stilled his features to not show the surprise of seeing a werewolf talk. "So the beast can speak."
His lip lifted and he forced it back down. They needed Zathrian, so he could not risk a confrontation. "So it would seem. I'm sorry for what happened to your family. But that was centuries ago and I had nothing to do with it. I was a merchant with a family of my own. I came only to trade with Varathorn as I had in the past when I was attacked. Now I am a monster and cannot return home to my wife and child until the curse is lifted."
"You may speak, but you are still a savage," he said with a harsh swipe of his hand." You attacked my clan. Nothing has changed; you are as savage as you have ever been!"
Nator clenched his fists. "I did nothing of the kind. Your clan was attacked because you refused our plea to be heard year after year. But, I was not a part of the attack. It was my duty to protect the Lady, nothing more. Should a man have to pay for his ancestors crimes generations back? Should I have to pay when my ancestors were nowhere near your family? Should your clan have to pay for your crimes? Who is the monster here, Zathrian? It was your actions against the Lady that began all of this – not her. She did not wish to be bound to a wolf. She did not wish to be filled with pain. What right did you have to rip her from her existence to make her suffer for your revenge? Who is the monster? Who is the savage one? He who has been given no choice and is controlled by a curse not of his making or he who willingly destroyed another for his own gains?" he growled.
He could not deny the creatures arguments were compelling, but he would not bend on this. There was no sense putting it off. At least he'd be in a position to force the spirit back into Witherfang so he could take his heart. "Enough," he said with a swipe of his hand. "I will come with you provided you protect me from being attacked."
"I will protect you so long as you do not attack first," she countered.
A harsh breath escaped his lungs. "So be it. Let us be done with this."
She rubbed Naton's back and when he lowered his head, she massaged his ears and then gave a good scratch behind them. The look on his face was priceless. And with any luck this was the last time he would be petted like a dog.
Zathrian rolled his eyes at the ridiculous display, but followed them down the stairs to the lair. He caught sight of the spirit and moved towards her. "I am here, spirit, as you requested." He would hear her out, but nothing would stay his hand.
Swiftrunner snarled and bound over to the ancient elf. "She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly." He returned to his Lady.
"You've taken a name, spirit? And you've given names to your pets? These…beasts who follow you?" he asked.
"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian. And the names they take are their own. They follow me because I help them find who they are," the Lady told him.
"Who they are has not changed from whom their ancestors were. Wild savages! Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!"
"You are wrong, Zathrian! Did you hear nothing from our talk? You are responsible for the curst that has befallen them; they are innocent of the crimes they are suffering for. Though your body is not twisted, your soul is. You are the one with the monstrous heart. To make innocents pay for crimes they did not commit," Naton growled.
"It is as I told you, Lady. He is not here to talk," Swiftrunner snarled.
"No," Zathrian said with a shake of his head. "I am here to talk, though I see little point in it. We all know where this will lead. Your nature compels it, as does mine."
The Lady moved to stand in front of the ancient elf. "It does not have to be that way. There is room in your heart for compassion, Zathrian. Surely, your retribution is spent."
Never. "My retribution is eternal, spirit, as is my pain. This is justice, no more."
"It ceased being justice centuries ago, Zathrian," Lyrica pointed out. "You have a family to think about now as well as a clan. If you do not bend you may lose Dyani and Niara to the curse, is that what you want? Are you so focused on the past that you will do nothing to save the future?" she asked gently.
A new pain washed over him. He never thought he'd find love again, but he had. "I can save them with Witherfang's heart!"
"Do not be blind, Zathrian! So long as the curse exists so too does the danger it poses. No…it magnifies. The Lady is what sooths them and that soothing allows them to think. Without that, they will revert to the mindless savages you believe them to be. Then no one is safe. Many innocents would fall to them, including any elves that venture into the forest. And if you care nothing for the new innocents that are slain or turned, then consider this. Once you kill Witherfang and take his heart to cure you people, how will you cure them again if they are attacked anew? The only way to ensure the safety of your new family is to end the curse. An ending long past due, lethalin."
No…no…there had to be another way. "I have heard of your power over the beasts. You could - "
She blinked; stunned that he would suggest such a thing. "So I should give up my hopes and dreams, my life to babysit the curse you refuse to lift? I, too, am to pay for your vengeance? How many lives will you sacrifice for your vengeance? What do you think your family would think if they learned the truth?" she shook her head. "I'm a Grey Warden now. I am already bound to the blight. I cannot stay in the forest. Even if I could, I am not immortal. I will die and then no one would be left to babysit your curse." She placed a hand on his arm. "It is time to bury the past to ensure the future."
"But…lifting the curse will see my death," he admitted. "My wife…my children. I would be lost to them."
Now she understood. "I do not wish death upon you. But you prolong your life through bloodmagic. Through the curse. Your death would hurt them, I will not deny that. But it will ensure that they will never suffer the anguish of the curse. The truth will be known now; there is no way to stop that from happening. How they continue seeing you, Zathrian, depends wholly on your choice now. Do they see you as hero giving his life to ensure an end to the suffering and safer future for everyone or do they see you as a monster, refusing to help others because of his own, selfish desires? How do you want your family to remember you?"
He could feel the truth of her words humming through him as if they had a life of their own. He met her gaze. "Are you doing this to me?" he asked quietly.
She gave a slow shake of her head. "I am only allowing you to feel. I am not controlling what you feel," she assured him.
"Kill him…kill him now!" Swiftrunner growled. "He will never help us, my Lady!"
The Lady placed her hand on her wayward child. "No, Swiftrunner. We will not kill him. If there is no room in our hearts for compassion, how may we expect there to be room in his? This does not have to lead to bloodshed."
"Perhaps, I have lived…too long. This hatred in me is like an old, gnarled root and I cannot let my family be consumed by my vengeance." He looked over at the spirit. "What of you, spirit? You are bound to the curse just as I am. Do you not fear your end?"
"You are my maker, Zathrian. You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain and love, hope and fear, all the joy that is life." She looked down as she gathered her thoughts. "Yet of all things I desire nothing more than an end. I beg you, maker…put an end to me. We beg you…show mercy."
Zathrian lowered his head. He did not wish to leave his family. He knew Dyani would make a good keeper, but he wanted to watch his daughter and his unborn twins grow up. But he would do anything to protect them – even if he had to give his life to do so. He nodded. "Then let it be so. Let us…let us put an end to it all."
The Lady nodded her agreement. She then turned to her children, touching each of them within reach, assuring them that all would be well with her touch. She then inclined her head to let him know she was ready.
Zathrian turned to look at Lyrica. "Tell my wife...my children – let them know I love them. Hopefully, they will not judge me too harshly. I would do anything for them. I do this willingly for them." He returned his attention to the spirit. He closed his eyes and murmured the words that would sever the binding and lift the curse.
Her heart went out to Zathrian and his family when his body slumped to the floor. She felt the hot pressure of heat behind her eyes and forced herself to keep the tears at bay. Now was not the time to feel her friend's grief. She watched as fear and then peace fell over the Lady's face as she faded into a glowing light, returning from whence she came. Magic seeped from Zathrian's body joining that of the Lady's as the curse itself crumbled into dust, returning the werewolves to their original state.
Swiftrunner faced the dalish elf. "It's over. She's gone…we're human. I can scarcely believe it." He bowed to the elf. "I never believed in you, for that I am sorry. I never expected a dalish to want to lift the curse."
She inclined her head. "No single race should be judged by the actions of a few. Just as no one should have to pay for the crimes perpetrated by another. I will hope, in time, that more people will come to understand this simple truth. So – what will you do now?"
"Those of us that have homes will be returning to them. Others, I suspect, with battle experience would be willing to join your cause and fight the blight. If the blight is not stopped then none of us will have homes for long," Swiftrunner told her.
"Thank you. We appreciate any help you can give us, whether it is fighting, helping those that are wounded – all support is welcomed. Let your brothers and sisters know that if any do choose to help us stop the blight that they should go to Redcliff and join with the Arl's forces. They will be able to help supply you with armor and weapons." She also explained to them about what was happening in Denerim and how a traitor to the crown had claimed himself regent. She finished by telling them of the rightful king and queen and how they intended to take back their throne and unite Ferelden against the blight.
Swiftrunner shook his head. "So much has happened that we were unaware of. I will spread the word. Thank you," he said with an incline of his head. "We will never forget you or what you have done for us."
When he turned away to talk to the others her gaze settled on Naton. A smile spread over her lips at the sight of the blonde man. "I would imagine you are eager to return to your wife and child. I wish you all the best, Naton. It has been an honor to know you."
He knelt on one knee. "The honor has been all mine, my Lady. You have taught me much and thanks to you I am a new man." He rose to his feet. "My next daughter will proudly bear the name Lyrica. I will show you to where the iron bark is as I told you I would, before I begin my journey home."
And he did. Berchan picked up a large piece that had fallen free from the tree. She smiled at Naton. "Thank you. This will mean a lot to an old friend."
Naton shook his head. "I owe you far more than a piece of bark. Far more than could ever be repaid. Thank you…again. I would stay and talk with you, but I have much time I need to make up for with my family. We live in Amaranthine. Look us up when you get the chance. Thank you again for all you have done. He gave her a wink and dashed down the trail.
Outside of Zathrian's loss and what that would mean to her friend, this felt good. She was glad she could help them regain their lives. "Let us check on Danyla and then return to the dalish camp."
-BREAK SIX-
They had little interference on their journey back through the forest. There had been once group of darkspawn they'd dealt with, but nothing else attacked them. The forest became far more beautiful when it welcomed them. There was no sign of Danyla or Ninia where they'd last seen them so they continued on to camp hoping to find them there. She smiled at Athras when she saw the brunette in his arms. There were tears in both of their eyes.
"Ma serannas, lethalan. Ma sarannas. Danyla told me how you wouldn't let her give up on life." He looked at the mage. "Thank you for easing her pain." He looked back at Lyrica. "Ma serannas for bringing my wife back to me. I – I never thought I'd see her again. It will be some time before I let her out of my sight," he admitted.
"Ma serrannas to all of you for making this happen. I wanted nothing more than death. But you gave me peace and then you gave me life. If ever you have need of anything, please call on us. We will be there for you as you have been there for us," Danyla promised.
She studied the human that stood next to the elven pair. She had jet black hair and amber eyes. "Ninia?" Lyrica asked.
Ninia grinned and nodded. "You've done it. I don't know how, but you've done it. I knew I probably wouldn't be welcomed here, but I wanted to make sure Danyla made it back to the camp safely. But, to my surprise, once Danyla told them what happened, the dalish have welcomed me."
Danyla rubbed Ninia's arm. "You guarded me while I was…asleep. You didn't have to, but you did. You went out of your way to help one of the clan. We will not forget that, Ninia." She nodded to Berchan. "I see you found quite a large chunk of ironbark. Varathorn will be greatly pleased."
Lyrica nodded. "I'm glad that things turned out well for the both of you. If you will excuse us, we need to get that ironbark into Varathorn's hands."
"Of course," Danyla said. "Dareth shiral, lethalan."
"Wait!" Ninia said before they could get very far. "I - I do not have a family to return to and I do not - cannot return to the Circle. I would like to stay with you. Help you fight the blight. It's – it's all I have left."
Everyone needed something to fight for, someplace to belong. "I will take you back to our camp. The final say on if you can stay rests in the hands of the rightful king and queen. But I do not think they will turn you away. They are good people."
Bethany smiled and handed the woman the branch staff from the Elder Tree. "Then you will surely need a weapon and this one is powerful."
Ninia sighed in relief. "Thank you," she said as she took the staff. Indeed, she could feel the power coursing through it. "I was stripped of my magic as a werewolf. I am glad to have it back. It was as if I had lost a limb…an invisible itch I could not reach. But I am finally whole again." She strapped the staff to her back with a relieved smile.
Lyrica was curious why she could not return to the Circle, but now was not the time for stories. They would have that time around the campfire for the evening. She looked up at the sky. Dusk was not too far off and she hoped to be away from the dalish camp before they made camp for the night themselves.
She led them over to Varathorn's aravel. "Varathorn – my friend has brought you back some ironbark."
Berchan lifted the large piece of ironbark and planted it in front of him. He could barely see over the top of it.
Varathorn inhaled deeply. "I did not expect for you to find so much and of such quality!" He motioned his assistant to collect the ironbark. "Ma serannas, lethalan! I will be able to craft many fine pieces with this amount of ironbark. Please, come back before you leave camp and I will have something crafted to aid you in the coming battle."
"I appreciate the thought, lethalin, but we did not retrieve this for a reward," she assured him.
"It is not a reward, lethalan. I am far too old fight the blight, but I want to do my part, even if it is a small part. And the weapon I craft will aid you in the fight to come. Go now…and come back before you depart," he said shooing her with his hands so he could begin his work.
She inclined her head to him. She understood the need to feel you were doing your part to help end the blight. "As you wish, lethalin. We will return." She grinned. She wasn't even sure he'd heard her. He was already intently studying the ironbark. She shrugged, patted Berchan's chest piece with affection and then hurried over to where Lanaya stood. She closed her eyes for a moment, wishing Zathrian would appear. When she opened them, the place he once stood remained empty. She wished there had been another way. Despite his anguish, what he'd done was wrong and so many had paid the price.
A few of their clan that had turned had returned to the camp, no longer cursed. They had told her what had happened. "It is good to see you again, lethalan. The clan is cured of the curse, but the price paid was high. We will all mourn Zathrian's death. He was a good and compassionate keeper. We look to Dyani to lead us now. She is a good woman and will make a fine keeper."
She remained silent about Zathrian's link to the curse. There was no need to shame him in death or to tarnish the clan's memories of him. "I was hoping to see her now."
"Of course," Lanaya said. "She will want to see you. Though…it would probably be best if your friends remained outside. She is in mourning and that is stressful enough on her pregnancy. The aravel behind me is Zathrian's – er…hers."
"Take all the time you need," Berchan told her. "You can find us at the fire." He looked down at the wolf near her legs. "You may wish to release him to the forest now."
She blinked, having forgotten that in all that had happened. She knelt down in front of the wolf and framed his face with her hands. "You may return to your brethren, lethalin. You were of great help to us and you have my thanks."
He tilted his head, a small whine escaping. He chuffed his negation. He was a beta wolf in his pack. He would never sire young and the chances of starting his own pack were slim to none. He felt useful here; he did not wish to leave.
The pictures he showed her said far more than any words could have. "I understand. If you do not mind leaving the forest, then you may stay with us." When he chuffed again she smiled and rubbed his head. "Then stay with Berchan. I will be out soon." She rose and looked up at Berchan. "I – we'll talk later. I will find you at the fire shortly." Without another word, she opened the door to the aravel and stepped inside.
She saw Dyani curled up on her side in the bed. "It would appear my timing is bad," she said quietly, not wishing to wake her friend if she was sleeping.
"Don't you dare leave, Lyri!" Dyani struggled up into a seated position to rest her back against the supportive pillows. "I would never be able to forgive you if you failed to see me while you were here," she groused and held her arms out to her old friend.
Lyrica sat down on the bed next to her and hugged her friend as tightly as her large belly would allow. "Ir abelas, ma vhenan." When she finally pulled back she saw the toddler buried under a blanket with only her face peeking out. "She has copper hair like yours. You are so lucky to have such a beautiful angel in your life."
Dyani stroked her daughter's hair gently. "I know. I didn't know how much I would love her until I carried her under my heart." The smile slipped from her face. "She does not understand about her father's death. She is too young. But I'll never let her forget him." She looked up at her old friend. "After we married, Zathrian told me what happened all those years ago. I understand his grief – the loss of his children. If anything happened to my children-" she rubbed her hand over her large belly. "Still – what he did was wrong. For so many years he ignored my pleas to talk to the spirit. Only today did I learn ending the curse meant ending his own life. He told me before he left for the ruins. He wanted me to know in case…in case he didn't come back." She wiped the tear that slid down her cheek. She thought she didn't have any left in her.
She laid her hand on her friend's belly and closed her eyes. The pictures she saw were not fully developed, but she got a sense of what they were feeling. "They feel your pain. They do not want you to feel sad. They enjoy hearing your laughter. It makes them feel…light...no, warm. Singing?…they are comforted when you sing to them." She felt Dayni's hand cover hers and opened her eyes.
"Ma serannas, vhenan. It is good to have that connection to them. I will try to laugh and sing more. I am not worried about us, but the nights will be long," she admitted.
"His last words were of his love for you and your children. If there was another way, I'd have taken it. But the only other path would have been to kill the spirit and every last werewolf in the forest, to include those of the clan. I – I could not be party to slaying so many innocents."
Dyani shook her head. "Of course you couldn't. I would never have wanted that. Zathrian was meant to die centuries ago. I am grateful for the time I had with him. Stolen time I never should have had, but memories that I can hold onto. I already know what I will name them. If a boy and a girl then they will be Zathrian and Lyrica. If two boys then Zathrian and Lyrican, if two girls then Zathria and Lyrica. It is my way of keeping you both in my life."
She turned her hand over to grip her friend's. "Ar lath ma, vhenan." She went on to tell her old friend about Tamlen's loss and how she became a Grey Warden. She also told her about people that she traveled with and the goals they had set out to accomplish.
Her heart bled for her friend, forced to live a life she did not want. "Much has happened in your life. Ir abelas, vhenan. But something good has come of this new life, has it not? The man…Berchan. There was a light in your eyes when you spoke of him. Did you heart find love once more?"
Did it? She had been intrigued when he said he would not be adverse to having something more with her. But they had yet to talk about it. "I – I don't know what to feel. He said he was not adverse to having something more with me than…"
"Sex?" Dyani teased with a grin.
She could feel the heat bloom in her cheeks. "Yes…sex. I honestly don't know what will come of us, neither of our people will accept any kind of union between us and our children…" her cheeks grew hotter.
Dyani laughed softly. "If you are thinking of marriage and children then that tells me well where your heart lies. If he is as strong as you, then neither of you will care much what others think. And even if the other clans do not accept you being together, we will. You both have done a great service to the Saoirse Clan and you will always be welcome among us. Not…that you weren't before. But know that he is welcome here too."
"Ma serannas. We will see how the wind blows." She grinned. "I would not be adverse to having something more with him either. But I don't like to think that I'm that obvious about it," she teased her friend.
"I just know you, vhenan. Love, no matter how fleeting it is - it's worth fighting for. I would rather feel the pain of my husband's loss than never to have known his love."
She squeezed Dyani's hands and rose to kiss her on her forehead. "You will make a wise keeper, Dyani. I - I wish I could stay…but we have a world to save. Now that I have found you again, I will not let you slip away…or my little nieces and nephews. If I do not get a chance to come back by before you move on, know that I will find you after the blight has ended."
"Ma serannas…ma serannas for being here. Seeing you has helped me in a time that I needed it the most. Ar lath ma, vhenan."
"Ar lath ma." She hugged her old friend one last time, released a deep breath and slipped out of the aravel. The first thing she noticed was the sun hand sank farther than she'd wanted. They would have to camp right outside the dalish camp. It was too late to travel this night. She walked slowly towards the fire. She could hear the laughter before she saw those seated around the fire pit. Berchan had a plate on each thigh. She laughed. "Hungry tonight, are you?"
"Hungry yes…but not for food," he said, giving her a knowing look. When she sat down next to him he handed her the second plate. "Sarel was regaling us with tales. There is much I wish to learn about the dalish." He cleared his throat when he felt his cheeks warm. "We are staying the night, by the by. They have offered us tents and soft bedding. And I, for one, intend to enjoy an evening not being dinner for the mosquitoes. I figured you would not mind if we got an early start in the morning." He chuckled when he saw her tear into her plate of food as if it would disappear if she stopped to chew.
"Oh, hush. I'm hungry. First food…then you," she said between rushed bites.
"I'm okay with that," he said with a booming laugh. "It does a man proud when his woman wants him so badly she must needs inhale her supper."
That wasn't why - wait! His woman? She didn't belong to anybody. She was no possession to be owned. She finished her meal, nodded to Sarel, patted the wolf's head and turned to Berchan. "Where's our tent?"
Berchan blinked. Something was off in her voice. He took the last bite from his hare haunch and tossed the remains in the fire and rose from the bench. "We will see you in the morning," he said to the others around the fire.
She bit her lip. "Ir abelas. Forgive my manners. I've been waiting all day to get him alone." She lowered her head with embarrassment. That had not come out the way she'd intended. "I…uh…"
Everyone around the fire joined in laughter. "Go, lethalan. We will break our fast together in the morn," Sarel said as he shooed her with his hands.
He placed a hand at her back. "Come, I will show you where we will sleep." He let her to a slight clearing in front of an aravel. Three tents ringed a small, lit fire pit. "We are in the tent on the left." When he began to unbuckle his armor he was pleased when she assisted him with its removal, just as she'd been doing for some time now. He had feared something had gone wrong between them, but she was not acting like that was the case. When he was down to his underarmor he helped her off with her light armor. He left his shield outside the tent with his armor, but their weapons they brought into the tent and pushed them to the side.
The tent was not as large as the tent they shared at the main camp, but this tent was built for elves, not humans. He was thankful for it all the same. He couldn't sit up without his head pushing the top of it, but at least his feet did not stick out the tent flaps. He pulled his shirt off, but stopped before he removed his pants when he noticed she still had on her small clothes. He sprawled on his side with is weight on his elbow and looked up at her. She was small enough that she could sit cross-legged. "Is there something bothering you?"
"I am not a possession to be owned."
He blinked and then shook his head in confusion. "I know that. Why would you even say that to me?"
Had she misunderstood his comment? "You said I was your woman. I belonged to you. A possession."
The breath whooshed from his lungs. "That's not what I meant when I called you my woman. Perhaps, I spoke out of line. Perhaps I should have called you my lover." He reached out and took her hand in his. She didn't pull away. That was a good sign. It was too dark see the stunning golden sea-green of her eyes, but they were no less beautiful to him. He gave her hand a tug and she fell forward against him. He turned her until she was on her side facing him and he placed her hand over his heart. "Much better…now I don't have to strain my neck to look up at you." He removed his hand from hers to gently push her light brown hair away from her face. When she lowered her hand he brought it back to settle over his heart. "I need to know what you feel about me."
When her gaze lowered he gently lifted her chin. "Please look at me. No matter what you say, I need you to look at me when you say it."
She lifted her eyes to meet his. "You are brave, courageous…sometimes outrageous. You make me smile, you lift my spirits when they need lifted. You are warm, you are not afraid to show compassion or that you care. I feel safe when I am with you. Not that I am some simpering, weak maid, mind you," she said as she gave his chest a poke with her finger. "But I know – I know you will always have my back, no matter what happens. You are a gentle giant – at least…"
"To you?" he asked softly.
She gave a slight nod of her head. "To me. You are my mountain man."
A small grin played on his lips. "I am your mountain man but you are not my woman? My little one?"
She blinked. She hadn't realized she thought of him as hers. But she did. Then it was too late to pull back to save her heart, even if she needed to. "It's too late…" she mumbled under her breath.
His thumb swept over her cheek. "Too late for what?" he asked cautiously, wondering if she was going to say that it was too late for them.
She bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. Dyani's words came back to her. 'I would rather feel the pain of my husband's loss than never to have known his love.' She opened her eyes to search his. "Do you ever see a world in which you could…love me? Not – not now, I'm not trying to put you - "
He lowered his finger to cover her lips and halt her words. "I can see such a world. But that doesn't answer my question. Too late for what?" His finger slid slowly from her lips. He watched as it caught her bottom lip and tugged it just the slightest bit. He tore his gaze from lips he wanted to feast on to meet her eyes.
She swallowed hard. "It's too late for a great many things. It's too late to run. It's too late to turn away. I was going to – I can't …I can't keep up this casual…thing that we have going. I'm not that kind of woman. I need something more than that. But when I called you mine I realized that it was too late for me to save my heart." She lowered her eyes. She thought she had courage, but not in this. She could not remember ever feeling quite so vulnerable before.
When she tried to turn away he pulled her even closer to him. "I'm not letting you get away that easily. You cannot simply give a man his…heart's desire and then turn away from him," he told her, coining Cammen's phrase. "Ar lath ma, vhenan."
Her heart stilled in her chest. She had to swallow hard again before she could push the next words out of her restricted throat. "Do you even know what that even means?" But still, the words were scant more than a whisper.
He frowned and closed his eyes. "Please do not tell me I just said something horrible to you. If I did, I'll kill him." He'd had a talk with Cammen before he went to get his supper.
"It would depend on what your idea of horrible is. Tell me what you think it means." She had to know if he knew what those words meant.
A sharp breath slipped from his lips. "I would hope they mean that I am in love with you."
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her hand slipped up to cup his cheek. "Love or not, I will be no man's mistress."
What did she mean by that? That he could only have her if he wed her? "Does that mean you're proposing to me? That you intend to make an honest man out of me?" he teased, uncertain of what she meant.
Her mouth fell open and snapped shut. She'd heard one couple discussing marriage at Ostagar. "I – I don't think I could afford the dowry."
He chuckled. "Then, mayhap, I should be the one to court you." The smile slipped from his face. "What did you mean you would be no man's mistress?"
"Just that. If you love me and wish to be with me, I will not share you with another. Nor, will I stand aside and be the mistress while you marry someone of noble birth to produce heirs. If that is what you have in mind - "
His finger rose to cover her lips once more. "We were discussing our marriage and now you have me wedding another? I should be offended, but I can understand why you might think such. I know that is how things are often done among nobility. But they are not me. When we wed, you will bear my heirs, no one else. And…so you know – I don't share either."
"Wait -" His finger slipped past her lips when she spoke. She heard his groan and playfully nipped it to get him to remove it so she could talk. "Stop," she said before he could kiss her. "You were serious about bonding our lives together? It – it was not just teasing?"
He pulled back with a frown when she asked him to stop. "Teasing? I would not jest about marriage. I have never given my heart to a woman before, but I have given it to you. And provided you do not throw it at my feet and stomp on it, I would wed you tomorrow – were it possible. Grey Wardens do not live long lives and I do not want to waste a moment making you my wife. That is…if you will have me."
When she was silent too long he wondered if he'd offended her with his lousy proposal. "Maker's balls," he grumbled. "My proposal should have been more romantic. You deserve better than that from me. I -"
This time it was her finger that stilled his lips. "I saw nothing wrong with it. I do not know what it is like in your world, but dalish speak from the heart – as you did." She released his lips and slipped her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. "Ar lath ma, vhenan. I want to know your love. I will bond with you." She knew they would be shunned by most of their peoples. She knew, but she didn't care.
She would have his love whether she wed him or not…but there was no need to point that out. His lips met hers and he gave into the hunger that had stalked him all day.
-BREAK SEVEN-
Come the dawning of the morning sun, sounds of a stirring camp woke them. They pulled on their under clothing and hurried out to locate a bush to attend to nature's call. Back at the tent they helped buckle each other's armor into place. The children and elderly foraged, the hunters hunted. He had wanted to help them hunt food for breakfast, but she assured him that they were guests and as such it would be considered rude for him to offer to help. It would show that he did not believe that were capable of providing for their guests.
He slipped away when Varathorn called her over to show her the bow that he'd crafted for her to use in her fight against the blight. The bow was far lighter than she'd expected. It had both elegant curves and wicked spikes, allowing it to be used as a melee weapon if the need arose. But the spikes were intricately placed and carved. They did not mar the beauty of the bow's design and its metallic blue sheen enhanced it, giving it an ethereal look. She drew back on it, impressed with the way it felt in her hands. "Ma serannas, lethalin, you have outdone yourself. I've never seen a finer bow! I cannot wait for the archdemon to taste its kisses!"
He laughed at her choice of words, but was pleased she liked the bow. "The shem might get jealous."
"Oh, hush," she scoffed with a grin. Her smile slipped. "You are accepting of…us?"
"I would have preferred…" He shook his head. Tamlen now lay in the beyond, it did not matter what he preferred. "The shem – Berchan, was willing to risk his life to aid the clan. I do not begrudge your love. He may not be an elf, but he is as welcome as any dalish in our clan. You realize the path you walk will not be easy?"
She nodded. "We know. Sometimes love requires great sacrifice. Dyani told me something that touched my heart. She said, 'I would rather feel the pain of my husband's loss than never to have known his love.' She is right. He is a good and honorable man. I want to know his love."
Varathorn looked over her shoulder to see the giant human carrying their keeper, who was round with babes. She was on bed rest to prevent premature delivery. "It would appear our new keeper does not wish to be caged today." He watched as the giant lowered her onto a bench at the central fire. The clan flocked around her and there was a buzz of excitement in the air. But they could not make out the words.
"Ma serannas, again. I will go get my old bow. It is not as nice as this, but it was made by Ilen. It will surly make a new hunter proud." She hurried back to the tent, laid her new bow inside and pulled out the one she'd had since she became a hunter. She then returned to Varathorn and handed him her old longbow.
He ran his hand down the bow's curve. "Heavy, made for a man. It has extraordinary balance. It is a marvelous work of craftsmanship. Are you sure you wish to part with it?" He was stunned that she part with such a bow.
"I am sure, lethalin. We are traveling light. My arrows' speed and distance will increase with the new bow. I have no need to carry two," she assured him with a grin.
He could hardly turn down such a magnificent bow. "I will accept this bow, but only in trade." He pulled out a couple of dozen of the arrows he'd made from the ironbark. "Take these in trade, lethalan. I will not take no for an answer. I know I have still got the better of this trade, but your quiver will not hold more arrows."
The arrows had the same metallic blue sheen as the bow. She picked up one of the arrows and examined it closely. It was a deadly work of art, perfectly balanced. It was exquisite. And with her enchanted quiver, she would never run out of arrows. "Ma serannas, lethalin. I am very pleased with the trade." She looked back when the activity of the camp picked up. "Will you be moving on soon?"
He looked around in confusion. Rarely did the camp see such bustle unless they were getting ready to break camp. "Not that I am aware. Now that the werewolf concern has been ended, we are in no rush leave the forest. Or so I believed." It did not make much sense. "Go now, and put your arrows up. It is nearly time to break our fast."
She did as he suggested. Every time she came too near another the excited talking abruptly ended. She pulled her old arrows from the quiver to replace them with the new ones. She returned to Varathorn one more time to hand them over to him, but she left before he could instigate another trade. When she approached the bench Dyani and Berchan were seated on he scooted down to give her room to sit next to her friend. "Why all the excitement in camp? Have you decided to move on?"
Dyani smiled at her and stroked her friend's cheek. "No, vhenan. Perhaps everyone is just excited to have had such valued guests stay the night." She smiled when she caught sight of Lanaya holding her daughter's hand and leading her over. She held her arms open for her little girl and the wee thing let go of Lanaya's hand and rushed into her arms. "Da'len, I want you to meet your Aunt Lyri."
Niara looked up into the other woman's face. "Oooh…pretty eyes! Yellow stars!"
Lyrica's cheeks pinkened. Outside of having magic, that was one thing about herself that she wished she could change. Her eyes were just too unusual and tended to draw attention, when she preferred to be overlooked in general. But it was hard to resist the sweet innocence of Niara's plump cheeks, loose copper curls and large, expressive, hazel eyes. She nodded her head in an exaggerated motion. "Oh, yes. One night, when I was very young, I plucked two stars from the sky and put them in my eyes so I could see better at night."
Niara's eyes opened wide in surprise and then her hand flew to her mouth when she giggled. "You are silly!"
She nodded again. "Ma serannas, da'len. I am trying. Do you want to sit on my lap?" she asked with an open smile. When the little girl nodded she plucked her up, gave her small toss and settled the giggle girl on her lap.
Niara waved her down. "There is a giant shem next to you," she whispered loudly, pointing to the man on the bench.
"Should we run and hide?" she whispered back to the little girl, winking at Berchan.
"No!" she shook her copper curls. "He saved us. He is good shem."
She beamed a smile at the little girl. "He's the best and I will let you in on a little secret." She lowered her head to the toddler's and whispered in her ear. "I love him very much. He is the keeper of my heart," she admitted to her niece.
"Ooooh….is he my Uncle Shem?" she asked innocently.
She cleared her throat to keep from laughing. "Do you want him to be?" Lyrica inquired. The little one was far too young to understand hatred and bigotry.
Niara turned her head to study the giant's face intently. When he winked at her she nodded her head. "Yes," she said in a very serious tone.
She hugged her niece. "Then, perhaps, if the stars align, one day he will be your Uncle Berchan (Bear-sean)."
Niara nodded. "Giant Uncle Ber."
Berchan laughed at her endearing innocence. Giant Uncle Bear was hilarious. "I would like to be your giant Uncle Ber, da'len." While he was a large man, he did not consider himself to be a giant of any kind. Sten and Kadar were certainly larger than he was. But to a tiny sprite like Niara, he could certainly understand why she called him a giant. Indeed, he rather felt like one himself in the dalish camp.
Lyrica watched in confusion as more benches were brought in and one was moved a bit further out. The scent of cooking meat came from a more distant fire, instead of the one the main camp fire. Something was definitely going on. Breakfast also seemed to be delayed, which was not at all a common occurrence for the clans. Breakfast was always eaten early so that their duties for the day could begin. But excitement still buzzed through the camp and people were rushing back and forth. Even Varathorn seemed to be hard at work over at his aravel. Since duties were not started until after breakfast, what was he doing? The squirming of her niece got her attention and she looked down to see the girl holding her arms out to Berchan. His giant hands nearly complete engulfed Niara's torso as he lifted her off her lap and deposited her on his.
He held on to the tiny bundle as his leg bounced her up and down. Her shrieks and giggles warmed his heart. He wondered if he and Lyri would be blessed with children. She may even be carrying his child now and that thought warmed his heart. He'd been told the taint made it difficult for Grey Wardens to have children, but they were very new to the taint, so it was not out of the realm of possibility. As far as he knew, neither one of them were doing anything to prevent a pregnancy. He loved children and like his father, he would have a house full of them if it were possible. And if it didn't prove possible, he was not adverse to adopting. It was likely that many children would be in need of a loving home due to both the civil war and the blight.
When the darling baby grabbed his armor to pull herself up into a stand and motioned that she wanted up on his shoulders, he carefully lifted her and settled her around his neck, between the two shoulder guards of his armor. Her arms locked around his forehead to hang on and the heels of her feet drummed against his chest guard in excitement. "I'll be right back," he said to the others. He rose, his hands holding the baby girls legs and walked over to have a word with Varathorn. Gilmore joined him.
Dyani squeezed her friend's leg. "I think he will make a good father. He appears to have a great appreciation for children."
A slight frown settled on Lyrica's lips. "I am not allowed to explain why, but Grey Wardens find it difficult to conceive children. I do not know if we will be blessed with any."
"Children can come from the heart as well as the womb," Dyani chided her friend for not looking at the whole picture. "There will be many orphans from the coming war, I fear. We are prepared to do our part. We will take in any elven children and raise them as dalish, regardless of their backgrounds." She rubbed her belly. "After meeting your friends, I've come to realize that not all humans are the same. My husband hated humans, but I do not share his hatred, nor did most of the clan. We are not unwilling to aid human children, but I do not know if they would be content being raised dailish."
Lyrica met her friend's eyes. She was grateful her friend called them humans rather than shemlen. The connotation behind the word shemlen was blame. The blame of humans for elves losing their immortality. She did not think it was that simple. In fact, that story had never made sense to her. If they were ever truly immortal, as the legends depicted, then something far greater was the cause of them losing that immortality. "Maybe that is how peace and acceptance begins. The segregation, willing or otherwise, further widens the gulf between the races. It only fosters hostility. Us and them. It is even that way among our own people. We are taught to look down on our city brethren. And that is a practice I have ever been against…at least once I was old enough to see things in a different light. I can only hope this war helps us foster a trust between the allies. We will be fighting for our lives together, because none of us can do it alone."
She patted Lyrica's leg as she watched her daughter bounce on the giant's shoulders. "Even as a da'len you drove the hahren crazy always questioning beliefs and needing to know more. I know many of the clan turned a deaf ear to your wisdom. You were da'len, what could you know? But I listened, vhenan. I took that with me when I left; and like you – I didn't let anyone change my mind. Not even my husband."
A girl, not yet an adult ran over and whispered something in Dyani's ear and then ran off. Her friend then nodded to Berchan. What had she just missed? She watched her mountain man lower the toddler to the ground, who was scooped up by Lanaya before she could get too close to the fire. Berchan then picked Dyani up and took her to the lone bench further away from the others on the opposite side of the fire before returning to her. The benches on this side began to fill up. She could see the beaming smiles on Bethany's and Gilmore's faces. The same girl, Marletha, returned and placed a flowered crown on the top of her and her companions' heads. Were they honoring them for the part they played in saving the clan? Was that why breakfast was being delayed? They did not need any formal honoring for their aid. But she would not be so rude as say such a thing.
Two newlywed women sat down on either side of their keeper, both only just showing that they were with child. Were their husbands freed from the curse? It was the only thing that made sense. When Berchan held out his hand to her she took it and allowed him to pull her to her feet. They followed Bethany and Gilmore as they approached the keeper. Small girls rushed out and sprinkled flower petals to carpet their advance. The same flowers that adorned their heads. Flowers that were used to help couples conceive. She blinked as a realization dawned on her. She turned startled eyes up to meet Berchan's warm, light brown gaze. His lips curved into a smile, but he said nothing.
They came to a stop in front of the bench and the young wives helped Dyani to her feet. Bethany wanted to ask Gilmore why he was not standing next to Berchan. It was customary for him to do so. But when the camp grew quiet she knew she'd lost her chance. They'd gone over this ahead of time. Why was he balking tradition?
"Take the hand of your intended and hold it out," Dyani told them.
Bethany blinked in startled wonder, her eyes lifting to meet Gilmore's.
"Surprise," he whispered as he took her hand and held it out.
And it was a surprise. The topic of marriage had eventually come up, and he'd even romantically proposed to her under the flowery blooms of a tree. But they had decided to wait until after the archdemon was destroyed to make their vows. At least she thought that was the plan.
The two women stepped forward and intricately wrapped their hands together with a long, slim woven scarf made of silky fibers and then knotted it beneath their joined hands.
Dyani's voice rose as she spoke a prayer to the gods to grant the couples a long, fruitful life together and a request to the dread wolf, Fen'Harel, to leave them in peace. When the last words left her lips she looked expectantly at Lyrica to recite the vows of bonding. (1)
She looked up into his warm, light brown eyes and knew she would forsake all others for him. "Ghilan'nain enaste var aravel. I shall be the wind at your back and the voice that calls you home. However far I wander, I vow I will always return to you. Falon'din enaste var aravel. I vow to walk no path in life you cannot follow. Even unto death, I shall be the hand that guides you through the Beyond. Andruil enaste var aravel.Your hunt is my hunt: together we are stronger than one. I will be your steady arm, and I vow we shall not waver. Elgar'nan enaste var aravel. I vow to be the shield at your back and the sword in your hand. From this day on, I shall shelter you against harm and no foe shall stand between us. Sylaise enaste var aravel. I will be your warmth in winter's cold, and the balm to your hurts. When the long night closes in upon us, I vow to be your light in the darkness. June enaste var aravel. I vow that all I possess in this world is yours to share. Let all things wrought from my hand be as from your own, and my every labor a gift to you. Dirthamen enaste var aravel. From this day on, let no words pass unspoken between us. I vow to keep my secrets for your ears alone, and to mind what council you bring before me. Mythal enaste var aravel. I vow you shall shed no tears alone. All that life brings us, be it bitter or sweet, we shall taste together. As one, we shall endure. And if Fen'Harel should cross your path, I vow to stand at your side and give you the strength you need to turn him away. Lama, ara las mir lath. Bellanaris. From this moment on, I will love you through eternity."
He was stunned by the depth of the dalish vows. He placed a large ring on the palm of her hand and wiggled his right finger on the hand that was tied to hers. He smiled when she slipped the metallic blue ring over his knuckles. He repeated the same vows as best he could remember. "From this moment on, I will love you through eternity." He slipped the ring he'd gotten her onto her finger and raised it to his lips for a brief kiss.
They turned to watch Gilmore and Bethany speak more traditional, but no less meaningful, vows and exchange rings.
With their vows completed the keeper gave her blessing to the unions and instructed them to seal their vows with a kiss. As the couples kissed the two young brides each lifted the door of a small wooden cage to release a pair of mated, white doves for each couple, so that their love would lift upon wings to the heavens to be blessed by the gods.
Cheers filled the camp along with a hearty breakfast feast, followed by games and revelry that would last well into the night. The couples would remained bound for twenty-four hours to prove they could work together to accomplish anything that needed to be done.
They included Ninia as often as they could in everything they did. She was a part of their group now and they wanted to make sure she knew it. But they noticed she tended to gravitate towards the young children, playing games with them. Lyrica couldn't help but wonder if she'd been a mother once. So far, she had no spoken much on her past life; it was as if she wanted to forget the past. Perhaps, one day she will feel comfortable enough to share her story.
Berchan had it worse than she did, since his right hand was bound to her left. Even eating had become an awkward experience. He was used to holding his shield in his left hand and his mother had taught him how to fight with his whole body, but fine motor skills were a challenge. Often, she would end up feeding them both, but she didn't mind. To her, eating had become a far more intimate affair when she fed him. Potty breaks were a unique experience. While there may not have been much privacy in the camp, having to assist each other was a whole new level of awkwardness. Games were far easier. He was already used to shortening his stride to stay at her side and they worked as a team, just as they did in battle.
Dyani had to go and rest several times during the day, but she refused to stay down for long; she would not miss out on her sister's bonding day festivities. She had not seen her for many years and did not know if she would ever see her again. The coming war would take many lives.
The couples did not retire to their tents until late into the evening. The only bit of trouble they had was undressing. They could not completely remove their upper clothing due to their bound hands. But that certainly didn't deter them or slow them down. Making love for the first time as man and wife moved them far more emotionally than they'd expected. When exhaustion overtook them they ended up having to spoon to sleep, with her head resting on his arm.
-BREAK EIGHT-
Come morning they broke their fast with the rest of the camp, and before long the keeper released the knots that held their hands bound together. She blessed the scarves and placed them in the hands of the new brides to be worn or protected as they saw fit. Their horses had been saddled and were waiting for them. Parting was a sweet sorrow. It was good to get back on path to fighting the blight, but at the same time, there was a sense of peace and acceptance here, something they would not likely find again anytime soon, except, perhaps, within their own League of Paladins. Most of which were misfits of one kind or another all coming together for a greater cause. But they vowed to return when they could.
Lyrica allowed Ninia to borrow her mount, at least until they reached Lothering where they would purchase another mount. On the way back, she named the wolf Fen. She did not consider him a pet. He was friend that could come and go as he pleased. She would never collar him. The choice to stay with her would always be his. She also started training under Bethany's watchful eye. In order for her to learn to control magic is by using it. She hated that. It felt like she was feeding it and it was growing, but she would be a danger to everyone if she couldn't control it. Maybe, if she'd never touched the Elder Tree's branch the magic in her would have forever stayed dormant…or maybe she'd always been a hidden danger, blissfully unaware that she could hurt someone.
Outside of Lothering's outskirts they saw a farmstead whose occupants were packed up and ready to leave. Two horses pulled the wagon and two were tied to its rear. The livestock was loosed to fend for themselves. Nothing could be done about them. They caught up to the farmer and his family just as they were rolling away from their home. "Wait! I noticed you were leaving three horses behind. Would you be willing to sell them?" She knew she could have waited until they left and just took them, but that didn't sit well with her.
The farmer's brows drew together as he studied the elf's face. "No need to pay us since we're leaving them behind. But I thank you kindly for the offer. You're welcome to anything you can catch. Better than them becoming food for the horde. You best move on quickly. The horde's been spotted just west of here. I imagine they'll be here in a couple of day's time. Most folk have already fled the area. We're heading north, got some family west of Amaranthine."
"Thank you, kind sir. Our party has grown and we are in need of horses. We'll be heading to Denerim soon ourselves. Stay safe and Creator's speed to you."
A dalish that did not hate humans. That was a novelty. So was seeing a dalish sitting on a man's lap. Weren't any of his business though. "There's rope and gear in the barn. Enough gear for two, you'll have to rope the third. Help yourself. The bay pony's name is Roy. The black mare is Bitch – you'll see why. And the blue roan mare is Jinx." He inclined his head to the group and slapped the horses' rumps with the reins.
When the wagon passed them they rode up the long drive, weaving through cows and pigs that did not seem to realize they were free. The horses pricked their ears as they approached and began to walk towards them. Horses, being social creatures, enjoyed the company of other horses, so they were drawn towards their mounts. The black mare was very striking. She had a black spotted white blanket covering her back and hind quarters. She had what looked like a white star between her eyes and a large white teardrop between her nostrils. The blue roan had a thin, jagged blaze that resembled a lightning bolt and the bay pony had an odd, white underbelly that asymmetrically faded into the brown as it crawled up its sides. Since the horses were following them, they led them into the barn. They roped the pony's halter and tied it to the back of Ninia's saddle. They learned fast how Bitch got her name. Bitch did not like being saddled. Or to be more exact, she mostly tolerated the saddle but she hated the bridle and she would lash out with teeth and hoof to keep it away from her.
Lyrica knew she could ride the animal without the gear, for that is the only way that halla were ridden. But they were not just wandering the wooded trails; she needed to have precise control, their lives might very well depend on it. She placed her fingers between the horse's teeth and opened her mouth. She expected to find an infected tooth, due to the pain she felt in the animal, but instead she found scars on the horses tongue. Someone had apparently used a harsh bit on her at some point in her life. It could be that the scar tissue was sensitive or maybe it was the memories themselves that pained the horse. The bit wasn't necessary, control of the head was. She unbuckled the bit and slipped it into her pocket. She then calmed the horse with a touch and eased the bridle onto her head.
Bitch stiffened as if expecting pain. She stuck out her tongue, pulled it back in and gnashed her teeth. Still no pain. She dropped her head and butted the elf gently.
Lyrica rubbed the mare's cheeks and then gave her neck a soothing scratch. "No more Bitch. You are now Falon…friend." She drew the reins over the horse's neck, grabbed the saddle and lifted her foot high to catch the stirrup. She swung up onto the mare's back. She was taller than her previous mount and it would take some getting used to with mounting and dismounting. She nodded to the others to let them know she was ready and they left the farmstead at a trot.
They headed into Lothering to make sure everyone was clearing out. Unlike the last time they were here, Lothering looked like a ghost town. Debris littered the ground as if the occupants had left in a hurry. They walked the horses slowly through town.
Neria rose when she heard the sounds of horses' hooves. She darted out of the small house waving her arms to get their attention. "It's not safe here! You need to leave before the horde arrives!"
Lyrica looked down at the dark blonde disheveled elf. Was she a slave or servant left behind to die? "Andaran atish'an. We are only here to be sure there was no one left behind. Come with us, we will take you to safety."
She shook her head. "I cannot go. I - I was one of the mages the Circle sent to Ostagar. I was injured, but I managed to make it here, to warn the town that the blight was coming. After they evacuated I found someone. Deathly still, but alive. I have tried for days to heal her, but magic seems to have no effect. I will not leave her. But you must go!"
"Then take us to her. We will bring her too." There was no way Lyrica was going to leave anyone behind to die.
Neria shook her head. "I do not know if she would survive the move. I do not know what ails her."
There was something…something that tickled at the edge of Gilmore's memory. "Beth and I will go back to the farmstead and see if we can find a wagon or something. I thought I saw something we might be able to have the pony pull."
Lyrica nodded. "Good idea, Gil."
"I'll go with," Ninia told them. "In case of trouble."
"Stay safe," Lyrica said with a nod. Bandits and darkspawn forward scouts were always a consideration. When the trio rode off, she turned to the elf. "I am Lyrica. That is my husband, Berchan. The other three were Gilmore, his wife Bethany and Ninia. Berchan, Gilmore and I are Grey Wardens. We are safe here for now. We'll be able to sense the darkspawn if they get too close. We won't let anything happen to either of you."
Neria had been quite young when the templars took her to the Circle, so she didn't care one way or the other about an elf marrying a human. But she'd seen some of the older elves at the Circle treat those who had bedded humans poorly. She'd had a crush on a human mage, but they'd never done anything more than flirt. "Andaran atish'an. I am Neria. You will want to dismount. We will enter here," she said pointing to the house at her right.
Lyrica lifted her leg over the Falon's neck and slid to the ground. She knelt down and cupped Fen's head. "Guard the horses. We will be right back." When she rose, her husband took her hand and they followed Neria into the small dwelling. Small was right, it was a one room shack. There was a pallet next to the bed. And on the bed lay black haired woman. Young. Deathly still. But her chest was slowly rising and falling. "I will see if I can reach her," she told Berchan.
She knelt down on the pallet and placed both of her hands on the woman's bare arm and closed her eyes. Dark swirled around her like a roiling fog. But all around her was power. She saw the face of a man, smiling. Black fog rolled over the picture, devouring it. She saw a knife slice out – cut into a forearm. Dark rolled over the picture. A letter written, signed Emalynd. The dark swallowed it. More pictures came, but they were taken by the dark before she could make sense of them. Screams echoed around her…fading. Then she saw something she didn't expect. A glow and in the protective glow was a woman pounding on the barrier to get her attention. Tendrils of dark licked across the glow as if trying to reach the woman within. She tried to move towards the woman but she could not move her feet. She looked down to see what was holding her in place. The dark was crawling up her legs. She fought its embrace, but the screams echoed in her head…hard to think…"
The last thing Berchan expected was for his wife to start screaming. His heart slammed in his chest. He tried to pull her away from the woman, but he'd nearly pulled the woman off the bed, so tight was her grasp on the woman's arm. He put his hands over hers and pried her fingers up until she released the woman's arm. He pulled her away from the woman and held her until she began to struggle. When he released his hold she frantically brushed at her legs as if trying to remove something.
She opened her eyes, her breath still coming in harsh gasps, but at least the screaming had fallen silent. She looked down at her legs, her hands stilling. No dark tendrils. She collapsed back against her husband, who held onto her with an iron grip, until her heart rate settled back into a more normal pace. "I think she was poisoned by the cut of a knife on her inner right forearm. Her name is Emalynd. She might be nobility. The dark…the dark was everywhere…devouring…everything – as if…as if it was eating away her memories." A ragged breath slipped from her lips. "She – she is trapped inside, protected by some sort of barrier…but I do not know how long it can hold out against the dark." She tapped his arm. "I am fine now, you can let me go."
He didn't want to let her go, but he did. "Please…do my heart a favor. Do not touch her again," he said softly.
Neria looked from one to the other, not at all understanding what just happened or how Lyrica knew anything. She took Emalynd's arm and turned it over to show them the scar. "I do not know how you knew about the wound, but the cut was infected when I found her. I was able to heal it with magic, but she would not awaken. What you saw…"
Lyrica frowned. "I have a…gift. I can communicate with animals and…people with a touch. The touch allowed me to see her memories, but they were disjointed and being…eaten by the dark. I don't know how else to explain it. Did she have a bump on her head? The only thing I can think of is amnesia. I have not heard of any poison that takes memories…but I think she is suffering from both."
Neria nodded. She did not know what to make of what the woman had told her, she had not heard of any such gifts at the Circle – but she did not seem to doubt anything she was saying. "There was a knot on the back of her head. She had fallen against the hearth – or at least that is where I found her. I healed the knot as well. So you believe the poison is killing her and the bump on her head is causing her memories to disappear?"
"I believe that to be true – yes. I also believe it is safe enough to move her. At least it is far safer to move her than stay here. Nothing can be done here. We are heading to our main camp. We will take you with us. There are quite a number of us; perhaps one of the others will know what can be done to help Emalynd. Please…please excuse me. I need some air."
She hurried out the door, walked a short bit and then came to a stop. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. The now dead town too heartbreaking to want to see. She didn't really like towns, but it had once been teaming with life –now…nothing was left but unwanted trash. She couldn't help but wonder if it would ever know life again. She heard the door close but didn't turn around. Heavy arms rested on her shoulders and crossed over the tops of her breasts as he pulled her back against him. "I never felt anything like that before. I never felt a part of what I was feeling. But the dark was crawling up me. I couldn't move." She turned around in his arms and pressed her cheek against the cool metal of his armor. "Maybe her being a mage had something to do with it. Maybe her power was amplifying her terror. I don't know."
His arms tightened around her. He never wanted to feel like that again. He wouldn't try to stop her from using her gift; it was a part of who she was. But now he knew it for the danger it was and he would be more watchful. "I knew something was wrong. You were screaming and I was terrified for you. I didn't know what else to do besides pull you away from her."
She had been the one screaming? That was embarrassing. "I'm glad you did. I don't – I don't know what would have happened once the dark covered my head. Maybe I'd have come out of it. Or maybe…"
His hand lifted to cup the back of her head, holding her against him. "Shhh… Ar lath ma, vhenan. I don't wish to think of any other maybes. My heart couldn't take it, little one."
"Ar lath ma, vhenan. You will always know my love, mountain man."
He loosened his hold when he heard the distant rumble of horse hooves and wagon wheels coming over the stone bridge leading into Lothering. "It would appear they've found something."
They moved the horses to the other side of the small shack to give their friends room. As they approached they noticed the pony was now harnessed but still tied to Ninia's saddle. He was pulling a medium sized cart, the four wooden sides about a foot and a half high. It had no covering, so nothing would protect what was within from the weather, which was likely why they'd left it behind.
"Victorious!" Ninia said with a grin. "We've lined it with sack cloth and a few old horse blankets. It may not smell the sweetest, but it will keep her from getting splinters in her ass."
"You're up, mountain man. Go get her," she said, giving her husband a swat on his armored rump.
"I'll just point out that having another woman in my arms was your idea..." he teased.
She scowled at his back as he entered the small house. With a soft sigh she opened the door and held it open for them. Did he have to point that out? And now that he had, seeing him with the woman cradled against his chest brought a frown to her face. It wasn't like they had a choice. Due to his size he could carry her easier than anyone else. But still…it was not a sight she enjoyed seeing.
As soon as he settled her in the padded cart and tucked a blanket around her, she grabbed the top of his chestplate and yanked him down for a kiss. She scowled at his chuckle and marched off to get their horses. She brought them forward and then looked at the Circle robe Neria was wearing. That wasn't going to work. She withdrew her dagger. "Sorry, Neria, you need a wardrobe adjustment. We will get you more suitable armor back at camp. Are you ready for this?" At the woman's nod she ran the dagger from mid-thigh down the dress both in the front and back. "You can tuck the edges under your legs so the saddle doesn't irritate them. Do you know how to ride?"
She shook her head. "No, but I'll figure it out."
She motioned Neria to follow her and led her to the blue roan mare. "Her name is Jinx." At the raised eyebrow she laughed. "You can change it if you want, she won't care. Mine was named Bitch when we got her. I call her Falon now." She placed her hand on the saddle. "Grab the saddle here. Put your left foot in the stirrup like this and then pull yourself up and swing your right leg over her back." She mounted the horse and then reversed what she'd done to dismount. "Watching me mount Falon is an acrobatic marvel, she's far too large for me…but I wouldn't want to risk anyone else with her, she was called Bitch for a reason."
She moved aside and motioned for the other elf to mount. She nodded when she mounted with little difficulty. She swung up onto Falon's back. "We'll be going slower than normal due to the wagon, but it will give you plenty of time to learn how to ride. "You can hold the reins in either hand. Move your hand to the left if you want the horse to go left. Move it right to go right. You can hold onto the saddle with your other hand until you are more comfortable. Pull back on the reins if you want her to stop. Squeeze with your knees or tap her belly with the heels of your feet if you want her to go. You'll learn the rest through experience. You'll be sore for the first few days, but your muscles will get used to it."
He should never have teased her. He realized that too late. "Little one…."
She looked up at her husband with a frown. At least with a taller horse she did not have to look up quite so far. She yelped when he plucked her off her horse and settled her over his legs.
He wanted to drown in her beautiful golden sea-green eyes. "You are the only woman I want to hold in my arms."
"I better be," she said as she forced a grin. "Ir abelas, vhenan. I was jealous and I had no right to be. There wasn't any choice. I didn't realize how I would feel until I saw you with her." She shook her head. "It's…silly. Just forget about it."
His mouth captured hers with a love and hunger that only she could make him feel. He could hear the others moving out and he didn't care. Right now his wife had his undivided attention. He pulled back with a groan, wanting far more than they had time for. "I wouldn't have liked seeing you in another man's arms either. You have nothing to be sorry for. My jest was thoughtless. For that, I am sorry." He brushed his lips against hers and then settled her back onto her mount.
She winked at him when Falon reared and then prodded the horse into a run to catch up to the others. She smiled when she heard the heavy pounding of Stryker's hooves behind her. Stryker was a stunning animal, though very much a warrior's horse. He was tall and large boned with light feathering on all four white socks. He had a bright chestnut color and a striking flaxen tail and mane.
They skirted the rest of the group after they crossed the stone bridge and took the lead once more. It had been interesting getting to know Neria. And since the pace was slow there was plenty of time to do so. As a Circle mage, she'd spent very little time among elves. There were elves at the Circle, but most of them were like her. What they learned of elves and their language had been from books and some hadn't even bothered to do that. Being an elf wasn't their life, being a mage was. Neria, herself, had far more interest in the elven culture than most and since she hadn't been very interested in finding romantic partners she spent her free time learning what she could.
Lyrica told her about how she became a Grey Warden, what happened at the Tower of Ishal and how she'd met the unofficial king and queen of Ferelden. She then told her about the League of Paladins and the goals they had set for themselves. She didn't give specific details, as it was not her place to do so. But general details like building an army to fight the blight was enough. She told her about the people that made up their group, how they had come from all walks of life to unite against a common enemy.
Neria told her about what she could remember of her childhood, what life was like for her at the Circle. She missed her family, but did not miss the poverty they'd lived in. The Circle was a whole new way of life and she'd been able to learn far more there than she ever could have learned in the alienage. She told them about Ostagar and how she'd barely gotten away with her life.
One thing that drew Lyrica's attention was the fact that Neria looked a lot like Lanaya. She couldn't help but wonder if the two were related. She never did ask Lanaya what her last name was. But still… "Did you happen to know anyone by the name of Lanaya in the alienage?"
Why did that name sound familiar? "I don't think I ever - " Her eyes lit up. "I remember her…well, vaguely. She was a couple of years older than me. Her father and my father were brothers. We…we were cousins. I rarely saw her, maybe once a year. Her parents worked outside the alienage, though I can't remember what they did." She rubbed her head and frowned. "I don't think I saw her again after I turned five. I don't remember much of that time. Do you know her?"
Her story did seem to line up, but unless Lanaya remembered her last name, there was no way to tell for sure if they were the same Lanaya. "I don't know. I might. I know a Lanaya. Her parents worked for a human merchant. There was a series of…unfortunate events and she ended up rescued by the Saoirse dalish clan. She is now first to the keeper. I will eventually get back out to see them; you are welcome to come with us, if you wish."
Family was everything. "Thank you! Uhh…ma serannas. It is worth going to see if your Lanaya is my cousin. I have not seen my family in years. If it is her, I'm sure my parents would be relieved to know she is okay. What happened to her parents?"
That was a tale she hoped Neria would not dig too deep in. It wasn't her tale to tell. "Ir abelas, lethalan. I'm sorry. They were killed when the caravan was attacked. That is why the dalish took her in when they found her."
"Ma serannas for telling me," she said in a somber tone. Even if her aunt and uncle were gone, it was good to know their fate.
-BREAK NINE-
It took them about two weeks to reach the outskirts of the main camp. Travel was slow, but because of that they did not have to take longer breaks to let the horses catch their wind. They were able to get Emalynd to drink some. It was a slow and tedious process, but eating was not something she was capable of doing. She was noticeably dropping weight and it had become a major concern.
As the approached the camp Taltos and Legion rushed out to greet them, though she suspected Lor was well aware of their arrival. What did surprise her was how easily the hounds took the wolf in. After no more than a curious sniff the three ran off to investigate the camp's grounds. They rode into camp, straight to the corral. They removed the tack, brushed down the horses and then greeted everyone who'd come to welcome them back.
There was already a crowd of people around Emalynd. She introduced Ninia, Neria and explained what she knew of Emalynd.
"I know something we can try." Leliana held up a tiny vial. "These are Andraste's ashes from the Urn of Sacred Ashes. They helped to heal Arl Eamon when he was poisoned. I know they will help Emalynd too," she said fervently.
Lorianna nodded. "She's right. If she cannot be healed by magic then this is her only hope. Kadar – do you remember the healing spell?"
The woman, whatever she once was, had little meat left on her body. It looked like she hadn't eaten in weeks. "I do. In the condition she is in, we cannot tarry. Neria, please expose some skin for the ashes to touch."
Ashes? They were going to heal her with remains? No, it didn't matter. If it worked on someone else, then surely it would work on her too. She'd read about the Urn. It supposedly held magical properties to heal the sick and injured. She turned her arms to expose the undersides. She wasn't sure if the ashes touching the site of the wound would matter, but it couldn't hurt. She then unfastened her tunic and pushed it aside to expose her sunken belly and ribs. "I do not know if it matters, but that scar on her arm is where she was likely poisoned."
"I will sprinkle some there too," Leliana told her. She sprinkled a tiny bit of ashes over the scar and the rest liberally over her exposed front. She looked up at Kadar who nodded to her.
Lorianna touched her arm and then looked up at Kadar. "Let's do this."
Kadar raised his hand when he saw the golden glow of Lor's power. He began chanting the spell of healing used on the Arl over and over. He did not allow the glow that resonated from Emalynd to distract him. He would not stop until her eyes opened.
When she did not waken as quickly as the Arl had, the other mages in the group began chanting the spell to strengthen its power.
Emalynd woke, looking out through her barrier to see the dark tendrils writhing. She stood on shaky legs and pressed her face to the barrier to watch in wonder. What was happening? The dark was receding. It slid away from the barrier, stretching out towards her in a vain attempt to reach her again. When she could see no more signs of the dark she waited to see if it was trying to lure her out. She wasn't sure if she had the strength protect herself again if she released the barrier. After a few minutes dropped the barrier and felt a blinding rush as her consciousness surfaced. Her eyes flickered open and grew wide with alarm to find herself surrounded by strangers.
She struggled to move away from them, but her body betrayed her and she began to shake.
Lyrica laid a hand on her. "You are safe here with us. Your body is undernourished, that is why you are having a hard time moving. Do you remember what happened?"
"No, I-" Emalynd struggled to remember what had happened, but there was nothing there. "I don't-" Her throat was dry and the words were scratchy and uncomfortable. She weakly raised a hand to her throat.
Lorianna removed her skin of water from her belt, lifted the woman's head and held the skin to her lips. The poor girl drank greedily as if nothing would ever slake her thirst. When she eventually, weakly pushed her hand away she capped the skin and tied it back onto her belt.
"Do not be alarmed," Kadar told the woman. "I'm going to help you rise to a seated position." At her nod he gently gripped her below her armpits and settled her against the back of the cart.
"Do not worry about your memories right now," Neria told her. "When I found you, you had hit your head on the hearth. The memories should return in time. At least we think they will. What's important is for you to eat and regain your strength."
"Grab her some stew – or at least the broth," Lorianna told her husband. "We need to make sure she can hold it down before offering her anything more substantial."
Kale grabbed a wooden bowl and scooped out some of the liquid. He returned to the cart and handed the bowl to the woman. He watched as she brought the bowl to her lips and began to drink. Her sips were small, apparently she knew enough not to down it too quickly.
The heat of the thick broth warmed her belly and filled her with a much needed strength. She set the nearly empty bowl next to her. "I – I want to stand."
Kadar nodded. He could understand her need to move and use her muscles. He bent over the cart, slipped his arms under her and lifted her out of the cart. He lowered her to her feet, but kept hold of her while she regained her sense of balance.
She gripped the giant, horned man's arm. She knew she lost muscle; her arms were thinner than they should have been. Her body shook, but held her weight. He helped her over to the main campfire and settled her on one of the logs surrounding it. "Thank you," she said. She was exhausted from the small journey and knew it would take time to build her muscles back up. Still, it felt good to move.
Everyone settled around the fire. They introduced themselves to the three new people. Kael explained what had happened concerning the Urn and Redcliff. Then Elvie took over and told what happened at Kinloch Hold.
Neria had been horrified to find out what Jowan and Uldred had done. She'd never much cared for Uldred and was glad to see know that they'd been able to stop his madness. She was disappointed in Jowan, but it seemed that he was doing what he could to make amends for what he'd done. It warmed her heart to see Elvie again and it was more than obvious her dearest friend was glad she'd not been at the Circle. Wynne, too, was a sight for sore eyes. It appeared that quite a few of the mages had survived Ostagar only to return home and face another hell. She wondered if the Circle would ever be the same. But how could it? So many of the people she knew were dead. If she returned, it would be to a new Circle, not the Circle she knew. But for now, she didn't want to return. "I'm not going back to the Circle. I was sent to fight the darkspawn and I will remain with you to do so."
Lorianna grinned. "Then welcome to my League of Paladins. Now," she said as she settled her gaze on Lyrica, "we are all eagerly waiting to hear what happened with the dalish."
Lyrica nodded and proceeded to tell everything that happened. She told them meeting Zathrian, finding out about the werewolf curse, and having to go deeper into the forest to find the cure. She explained about the forest being inhabited with spirits and how that occurred, as well as who Zathrian actually was and what he'd done to start the curse. She told them about the weres that had helped them, what had happened to lift the curse and how her friend had become the new keeper who had agreed to uphold the treaty that had been signed with the Grey Wardens. She told Wynne about meeting Aneirin in the forest and he was glad she was doing well. And how he'd told them that she'd taught him more than she knew. Finally, she told them about the weddings that had taken place at the dalish camp. To bring things full circle she told them about the farmstead outside of Lothering and how they'd met Neria and Emalynd.
Emalynd was floored by all she'd heard. Everything these people had gone through to build a new army to fight the blight. It was obvious that this group of people cared about each other a great deal. She wondered if there was anyone she cared about in her past. All she could remember was that she was a mage. She knew a great number of spells and her name, but little else. "I do not remember much about my past, but I know I can have no future unless the blight is defeated. I am a mage and I will lend my skills to your fight. Both for the throne and for Ferelden."
"Thank you," Lorianna told her. "You are welcome as a Paladin. It would appear we are becoming a small army in our own right," she said with a grin. "We are still waiting for a final group of friends to return from Orzammar. We will remain at camp until they do. It will give you some time to regain your strength. There are two free tents here and one at the back of the camp for now. Once our friends return we might have to do a bit of tent shuffling."
"I will take the far one for now," Emalynd said with a tight smile. "I will be forced to walk further and I need that to rebuild lost muscle."
Lorianna smiled warmly. "That tent was Morrigan's…just don't be reclusive. You are a part of us and we want the chance to be with you."
She inclined her head to the future queen. "That is kind of you to say. I don't know what I was like before, but the thought of being alone is not appealing."
A few day and plenty of hearty meals later, Emalynd was feeling much better. Her body no longer shook when moved it. She was far from being in top shape, but she was on the road to getting there. In the mornings Lor led a group in a workout that incorporated some odd fighting moves. Each day she was able to a bit more before she had to rest and just watch. It was also obvious that much of the camp had partnered up, either they were married or just needed someone to connect with during these harrowing times.
She found herself spending more time with Wynne, Jowan, Neria, Ninia, Alistair and Angelia, because either their partner wasn't here or they had no significant other. She had no idea if there was anyone special in her life. So far, her memories had not returned – at least nothing significant. Snippets, like being in a vast garden or riding a white horse, but no faces…nothing that really showed her who she was. But those snippets were a start. And while she'd love to have someone hold her at night, she wasn't willing to do so until she knew there was no one else.
She liked this group. It was interesting that so many good people had managed to find each other to right the wrongs Ferelden was suffering under. The only person that wasn't all that likable was the qunari, Sten. He only talked with a few of the group, but he seemed to be a different man when he was with Elvie. He would smile and laugh and act like a normal person. She'd even caught him playing with the dogs. It was as if he was purposely trying to make sure he did not become attached to most of the people in their group. She shrugged. Maybe it was a qunari thing.
The one thing she'd had to get used to was the lack of modesty. She supposed it couldn't be avoided in a cramped camp, but it had still been a shock to see couples making love, bathing and using the trenches together. Modesty aside, she was enjoying their close-knit atmosphere.
A week later, the remaining party members returned and excitement was in the air.
-Note-
Vows BY:VIR-GHILANI
