a/n- I hope this isn't too long between updates. I have a little bit more schoolwork than I did to begin with and so I'm spending a lot of time on that and not as much on this, as is necessary. I want to thank Tharosis2422 for being my first reviewer. Alright, well I meant this chapter to get back to the canon story, but I go a little long winded in the middle with the characters and I liked it, so I kept going. Anyway, hopefully you enjoy this next installment.
Whispers In the Dark
The next morning dawned clear and bright, light filtering through the trees hindered only by their branches. Enya laid on her back for a moment and gazed up at the intense green of the leaves around her. If not for the throbbing of her hand, it was nearly possible for her to pretend she was back with Clan Lavellan, in the Free Marches, wandering from forest to plain, her only concern being sure she had not alerted potential prey. She sighed and closed her eyes again, letting the sun's rays bath her face with warmth.
The elf eventually rolled onto her stomach and pushed herself up. She neatly rolled up her bed roll with the practice of a seasoned traveler and tied it to her pack. Enya moved over to the horses happy to see that they still stood in the general vicinity of where they had been left. Most Dalish thought horses unintelligent creatures bred to do only Shemlan bidding. Now she looked a them, however, she was not sure they were that. While they seemed complacent enough, she noted that horses were quite a bit larger than halla, thus, if they did not want to be ridden, they could simply throw a rider off or run away completely, yet they didn't. The same could be said for Halla, despite their smaller size.
Enya smoothed a hand over her mount's mane for a moment whispering quietly to him in what little she knew of ancient elven. Her keeper had once said that the tongue called to the spirits of the animals, teaching them to trust. It was how halla masters tamed and care for their flock. The fur of the horse's neck twitched under her fingers and he lifted his head from grazing to stare at her. He blinked a large brown eye and went back to grazing as a decisive sniff.
The elf returned to the fire just in time to see Cassandra tossing dirt onto the embers, which refused to go out. Despite the mound the Seeker had built upon them, they still burned, filling the air with the acrid scent of heated earth. The woman let out a low growl as yet another pile of dirt yielded no change. Varric gave a soft chuckle as he threw his pack over his shoulder.
"Solas!" Cassandra rounded on the mage, who had thus far been busy tightening the wraps he wore around his feet and calves, "Is there something about this fire that should cause it to continually burn?"
Solas raised his head to look at the pile of dirt and smoldering embers and rose. The elf moved over to it and deliberately placed a hand over it. He closed the hand and the embers became lifeless coals.
"My apologies, Seeker," Solas turned to Cassandra, "I did not wish and errant wind to quell the flames."
Cassandra turned a hard gaze on him, "While I appreciate the thought, you should take more care with your magic." She spun on her heal and gathered her things from the ground by the fire, "Not everyone is as accepting of apostates as the Inquisition."
Solas nodded in acquiescence and moved off to the horses. His face was impassive and accepting, despite the warning he'd just received.
"Is it so wrong for him to use his magic for our aid when we are out here in the wilds where none shall see?" Enya spoke up.
Cassandra strode toward her and stopped, laying a hand on Enya's shoulder, "I only say it to caution him. If I am bothered by his magic, then how must others less used to apostates react? Especially now that every mage is an apostate."
The elf looked up at her and then nodded. Among the Dalish, magic, natural magic was so present, it still seemed strange for people to fear it. Cassandra moved away tying her bedroll behind her saddle and mounting her horse. Enya gave Varric a leg up onto his smaller steed and watch him wince as he settled into the saddle. She felt badly for the dwarf being forced to ride such long distances. The elf approached her mount and grasped a handful of mane in her left hand. She pulled herself up swiftly and gracefully onto her horse's saddleless back.
The party set off through the forest along the path she had help Cassandra plot the night before. It was a short ride through the dense trees and they reached the Forest's edge by midday. The rolling foothills dotted with farmland and villages between stands of tamed woodland spread out before them. Enya, just behind Cassandra, stared out at the land they still had to cover and sighed. To the eyes of a Dalish elf, the long distance they had yet to go seemed like hours spent in peace.
They stopped for noon meal and dined again on the salted meats. Even Varric's heart didn't seem to be in it. After a day of the same food for each meal and yet another day ahead of them, it seemed likely that they would very quickly get tired of this food. Each counted themselves lucky that this was only a short trip and that soon they would be reaching the Hinterlands, where for certain, they could acquire fresh food.
The night was starting to fall again and they plunged into a wood to take shelter. Varric supplied his flint for the fire and soon flames rose from the pile of branches that had gone unused the night before. Enya threw down her bedroll quickly and settled onto it, watching as flames leaped from the sparks Varric had struck onto the twigs. She reached out and added a log as they burned bright enough to show their heat. It caught quickly.
Cassandra settled by the fire, holding her breastplate clasped in her hands. The Inquisition's symbol was emblazoned on it in pure white paint that had been marred by her fighting and the days and nights of travel. Enya glanced at it long and hard and though she somewhat understood what it meant, she couldn't fully grasp its significance.
"Do you know what it means?" Cassandra asked kindly.
Enya glanced up at her, surprised her gaze had been noticed. She shook her head.
"As it is the symbol of the Inquisition, so was it the heraldry of the Seekers of Truth," she explained, "The all-seeing eyes is surrounded by the sunrays of the Chantry to exhibit the Maker's omnipotence and to commend our actions as part of his will," The warrior pressed her hand to the white paint, "In the Inquisition we extend the bottom-most ray to show that we are different that the Inquisition of old that lead to the formation of the Seekers of Truth. Without this ray, we could be seen as no different. It represents the influence we have and the divide we hope to close."
"It seems like this was not just on a whim that you began this Inquisition," Enya commented, awed by the thought that had gone into the symbol.
"No," Cassandra replied as she pulled a bone-white powder from her pack followed by an oil of some sort. She mixed these together and took a course brush from her pack and began brushing on the mixture, "Even if the Conclave had not exploded as it did, the Divine planned to rebuild the Inquisition. That is why we had the writ at hand when we declared sovereignty. With the chaos caused by the Mage's Rebellion, the Most Holy felt that it was necessary to reinstate the Inquisition of Old to restore order to Thedas. As the Seekers, we would report only to her and give the people of Thedas an example to follow in the name of the Maker and his holy bride Andraste," Cassandra looked up from her careful work, "You are believed to be Andraste's chosen voice is among the people of this world. But I have never truly asked how you felt about that. You have not openly denied these claims when people have addressed you as such. Does that me that you…believe you are chosen, that you believe in the Maker and his plan for us?"
Enya considered for a moment what she truly did believe. It left a sour taste in her mouth to say that she believed herself to be Andraste's Herald when to her Andraste was but a powerful woman who helped to free the elves from Tevinter enslavement. She was not prophet to her elven mind.
"I am Dalish," she responded slowly, yet surely, "We believe in the elven gods." She reached up and touched the pendants around her neck that she typically kept under her clothes so as not to lose them and pulled one out, "Andruil goddess of the hunt. All hunters of my tribe wear this, for protection and with the hope that she might bring us a worthy kill."
Cassandra nodded, a troubled look in her eyes, "And there is no room in your gods for one more?" the warrior shook her head, "I am sorry, herald. What I ask of you is not a proper request. You could easily ask me to accept your gods as my own and it would leave the same feeling of falseness in me to try," she turned back to her breastplate, finishing the curve of the all-seeing eye's pupil, "I must admit, I am not used to meeting someone without the Maker in their hearts. Certainly those who have lost hope in him, but rarely one who never believed."
Enya turned back to the fire and stared into its depths, her fingers slowly rubbing the figure of Andruil absently, "I understand. It would be much the same as myself encountering a city elf who had accepted the beliefs of the Sh-" she stopped herself from finishing the word and corrected, "the humans that surround them."
Cassandra's silence was long and only the crackling of the fire and the tenor of Varric's off-pitch humming could be heard. Enya thought long and hard about the term she'd almost used to describe her companion's race. Shemlan. In theory, it meant simply that her race was short-lived in comparison to that of the ancient elves, but in practice it had come to mean so much more. If reading had taught her anything in her five and twenty years, it was that she words had more power than they initially seemed to hold. Shemlan carried accusation, expectation, a learned anticipation of mistreatment yet forthcoming. Now she was among them the accusation seemed unfounded. Of course, the people that surrounded her had certainly assumed the worst of her, but not because she was an elf, but because they had every reason to. And these humans were good people, accepting people.
Cassandra's voice interrupted her thoughts, "If the Inquisition is to act as a guide for the people of Thedas, its leaders will have to overcome the things we have been taught to think of each other if we are, indeed striving for peace."
Her words rang out in the small wood and Enya saw, through the flickering flames of the fire, Solas smile slightly at them. She smiled too for it was such an appropriate and true thing for the woman to have said. They all turned in shortly after that, the darkness of the night drawing them to their bed rolls like flies to a corpse. As she drifted off to sleep she realized that somehow, without her knowing, these people were becoming her friends.
She woke in the dark to the crunch of a stick. Enya's hand flew to the greatsword that lay next to her on the ground. She clutched the hilt tightly in her hand as her eyes sought the source of the snapping. There were several figures in the dark. The night was without a moon and in the darkness even her elven eyes could not make out how many but she guessed there were not more than five. She slipped her left hand out from under her head trying to reach Cassandra's arm without alerting these people of her awareness. She barely grazed the warrior's arm with her fingertips but it was enough. The sole human of their party jerked awake and looked up at Enya. The elf pressed a finger to her lips, hoping that her companion's start had not alerted the thieves to their awareness of them. She jerked her head toward the woods and saw that the group of people had drawn their weapons. Mythal she thought.
Enya's eyes darted to their two other companions, one across the simmering coals from her and one at her feet. The silence held in the air as everything stopped. She felt time slow to a crawl as her mind flipped into an adrenaline induced overdrive. The people meant to kill them and steal their belongings, that much was clear. Bandits probably, she judged by the roughness of their footwear as they stepped into the light of the glowing embers. It was either give away their awareness by waking up her companions with a shout or wait for the people to attack and kill them then. Her hand was throbbing, possible from the pumping of blood through her veins so incredibly quickly.
The elf decided in a moment as she saw another step into the light and realized that they meant to slit their throats while they were sleeping. Enya grasped her sword tightly in her hands, nodded at Cassandra and then leapt up, bringing it out before her to slice deeply into the left shoulder of the man nearest her.
"Solas! Varric!" she cried out as she did so.
Her cry was probably unnecessary for the roar the man she'd attacked let loose was enough to alert this entire region of the Hinterlands to his presence. Solas joined the fray near instantly, emerging from his state of slumber with a blast of frost magic so cold she felt goosepimples rise on her cheek as it whizzed past her, freezing and assailant she had not noticed held an axe, clearly ready to strike. For a moment she wished very strongly that she, like Cassandra, slept in her armor. Varric was a bit slower, but his position relative to the attackers was enough to protect him for the time that he needed. He let out a bellow and loaded his crossbow with a bolt, losing it. She pulled her sword back as quickly as she could and heard a clang as Cassandra jumped full force into the frozen man with her shield. His icy form seemed to crack and the subsequent stab from the Seeker's blade ended his chances of ever unfreezing. Enya put her sword through the chest of the bandit before her and felt blood drip onto her hand. She pulled back again, narrowly avoiding one of Varric iron bolts. It pierced deeply into the eye of another bandit, and he dropped to the ground dead.
The remaining two bandits seemed to realize they were outmatched for they switched from offensive to defensive tactics. Unfortunately, Enya realized, they could not let them go for fear of their return with reinforcements. The Inquisition party did have rather valuable items with them in the way of weapons and armor, even their horses, were worth enough to live for a few months. She put out of her mind, the guilt she felt for the deaths and swung down hard toward the weapon of the larger man. He tossed her blow aside, and lunged forward with one of his own. She'd seen it coming and twist to the side. Her recovery from her missed blow before was swift, and as she spun, she folded her blade up tight so that as she turned she brought it forward, plunging it into his stomach through his leather armor. He gagged loudly and she could see the white rims of his eyes as he realized his legs no longer worked. Enya stepped back as he dropped to the ground, pulling her sword clean out of him. He slumped over, still breathing. The last bandit exploded in a spray of ice as the combine effort of Varric and Solas stopped him from bringing his hammer down on Cassandra's head. Enya dropped her sword and drew a dagger from her thigh, stepping toward her felled opponent. She knelt beside him and glanced at the blood that already soaked the ground around him. He reached up and grabbed on her wrists desperately, but the blood running from his mouth blocked his throat and he could make no sound beyond gurgling. She knew what he wanted, though and carefully slit his throat.
The elf stood and turned back to her companions. Cassandra stood, staring at the pile of bloody pink ice chunks that had been the man who'd tried to kill her. She turned to Varric and Solas slowly, nodding her thanks. Enya noticed the calmness with which each of them approached killing and pondered how anyone could become so comfortable with death.
"We cannot leave these men here. Someone is bound to find them," Cassandra spoke up as she wiped the tip of her blade off on the wool pants of one of the bandits.
Solas rose from where he had knelt by one of the bodies and turned to them, "What is more, they do not deserve to be left to rot."
"Alright, Chuckles," Varric suggested as he released the tension on his crossbow and set it back on his bed roll, "It isn't as if we were going to get back to sleep anyway."
"We'll burn them," Cassandra declared.
Enya was familiar of the human custom of burning bodies but the idea still gave her some pause.
Cassandra scouted for a more open area, "We'll need more wood and some oil."
Varric pulled a container of oil from his pack and handed it to Cassandra. Enya picked up her blanket, which was now thoroughly soaked with blood and handed it to the woman who doused it with the thick lantern fluid. The blood in the fabric ran with the oil, leaving swirling streaks of red through the wool. Solas whom had disappeared as soon as Cassandra had mentioned cremation, returned as they began to move the bodies toward a central location. He carried an armful of twigs and larger sticks back to them and began to lay them out in a rectangular area, building them up a bit. Enya helped Cassandra and Varric move the last body over and then joined him.
"You are bothered by this practice," Solas commented as she laid a branch down in the perimeter he had created.
Enya glanced up at him for a moment and met his eyes. His brow was, as usual raised in question and polite curiosity.
She looked at the pile of bodies they'd created next to the pyre they were building, "Yes," she commented quietly, "I understand it is their custom, but they turn their bodies to ash, burn away their faces, their spirits."
"They believe that they return to their Maker's side in the smoke and that the bodies of the dead too easily rise. Is this not true?" the other elf reasoned calmly, "Humans cannot understand why the Dalish bury the dead as though they are asleep."
"It is because…" Enya responded immediately but stopped as she met his grey eyes.
"As quickly as you respond to my questioning of your customs, the human's would explain theirs," Solas set down the last bit of the wood he had collected.
Both of the elves surveyed the pyre and the bodies. The small perimeter they'd built would not be sufficient to burn the bodies of the brutish bandits that had attacked them. Solas gestured to her.
"Come, we'll gather some more wood," He turned away from the camp.
Enya's eyes remained fixed on the pile of five men they had killed and she felt a chill run through her spine. Shaking her head, she turned and followed him out into the darkness, though it didn't seem truly dark to them. Cassandra and Varric remained behind and she nodded to them as they walked past. They were cleaning their weapons and packing up the camp.
Enya followed the bald-headed elf deeper into the small hilly forest. They walked only a short ways before they stopped, but it was far enough that the glowing of the embers in camp could no longer be seen. Solas turned to a tree that seemed rather ragged next to the others, its bark peeling back in places and leaves missing. Enya placed a hand on the trunk and came back with the stickiness of sap on her hands.
"This tree will not withstand another winter," Solas stated and quite suddenly the air around them was filled with blue light.
Enya watched as the elf reached up to one of the tree's lowest branches and grasped it a glowing hand, the branch froze where he grabbed it and then cracked, falling to the ground. She took several steps back, staring first to the newly fallen branch and then to him. It occurred to her that this must be why he always found firewood so quickly.
"Cassandra would not approve of this use of magic," Solas commented and there was a hint of mischief in his tone, "But I dare say that any man who should come upon us at this hour of the night would scarce think he had seen truly. Do you not agree?"
Enya smiled, "I do agree." She ran a hand over the tree again, looking up past its branches toward the stars, "You chose a tree that would soon fall," she paused, "That is very Dalish of you."
Solas stared at her with hard, inscrutable eyes for a moment and then he nodded at the branch he had broken off, "That will need cut if we are to use it."
With that, he swung into the branches of the tree and began work on its upper reaches, leaving her with a distinctly confused train of thought. He seemed almost offended by her comment. She had assumed that he was Dalish, given his knowledge of their culture, or at least had been at some point in time despite his suspicious lack of the Vallaslin, but it appeared she had been wrong.
Enya shook her head and took hold of her greatsword. It was still stained red with wet blood but she tried hard to ignore it as she brought its end down on the fallen limb. The wood, still cold, broke easily under the razor edged blade and it was soon split into pieces that were manageable in size.
The pyre stood before them, piled high with the bodies of the slain bandits. Cassandra had draped the oil soaked blankets over the bodies in the hope that they would set the corpses alight faster. She tossed struck the flint over the pyre a few times before the blankets finally caught, bursting into flames with near simultaneous light. Enya took a step back as the fire blazed over their kills and then turned away. One of the horses let out a frightened whiny at the flames and she went to comfort it, scooping her pack from the ground as she passed it.
Though it was still dark, there was a bit of lightness that she noticed creeping into the Eastern horizon so she swung onto her horse and waited for the others to do the same. When they departed, they left behind the smell of charred, roasting bodies on the wind.
