Chapter the Tenth: "Beginning to Soar"

Author's Note: Just wanted to thank everyone for hanging in there. Ten chapters! Woo! I know I have built a great deal of mystery and suspense and given you little to go on. You shall be rewarded soon, fair readers. Chapter the next contains a dialogue you won't want to miss, which will reveal much about Megara's past. But first, who will she be speaking to? Read on...


"Roads go ever ever on

Under cloud and under star..."

The Road Goes Ever On, Tolkein

Megara was running out of time. The others were becoming suspicious and Alistair was starting to piece things together. Everything she had done to protect her past and those in it was crumbling and unraveling around her. All because she had to play the damned hero. Because she had to care. There was still so much at stake, too much so to allow it to be lost. So she did the only thing she could think of; she decided to run.

If I leave, Alistair won't be able to put it all together. He doesn't have the balls to confront me or the wits to pull all the pieces of our stories together. Leliana doesn't know everything or she'd have opened her Chantry trap already. And who says I don't care! By leaving, I'm protecting more than my own hide to be sure. I am protecting this kingdom.

Her plan was made and yet she still couldn't decide when to leave. They were halfway to Haven before she'd drummed up the courage to flee. Several times, she'd resisted the urge to sneak into Zevran's tent for just one night of passion, to feel the heat of him. and the touch of his skin. In the end, she denied herself this, too. Her weakness had caused her nothing but pain in the past. Finally, when they were but a few days from haven, she prepared to leave. Winter was waning and the frost that night after everyone had went to bed was insignificant compared to nights past.

Alistair had been nothing short of hostile towards her since the incident with the merchant. He hadn't approached her at all, however, cementing Megara's belief that he was far too much of a coward to bring things out into the open and also that he knew little. He simply resorted to glaring and muttering under his breath. The previous night, he had been so volatile at dinner that Tara had immediately cowed him. "Maker's breath, Alistair! Need you be so nasty to Megara? What has she ever done to deserve such treatment!?"

"I...I don't know. I don't..." Alistair mumbled and hung his head.

Tara had been icy towards Alistair after their fight, to Megara's amusement. Alistair could be so childish. But he respected and adored Tara, that much was obvious. So the night Megara was ready to leave, Alistair grudgingly made a show of being decent towards her. She had been playing fetch with Grey, but afterwards couldn't help but notice that Tara pulled Alistair aside in camp to speak with him, finishing the conversation with a kiss on his cheek. Megara chuckled, wrestling the bone from Grey and tossing it in the air. "He gets rewarded just like you and is about as obedient and housebroken, too!"

She was preparing to leave, finally. She had been distant to everyone for a few days, even Morrigan. She didn't have many possessions and knew she could take even less when she fled that night, as she walked away from the mabari and to bend down and into her tent. Pulling her tent flaps closed tightly,she dug one of the last bits of parchment out. Finding a quill was even tougher. She sat cross legged on her bedroll, shivering from the cold and her emotions. Exasperated, she drew Dragon's Tooth lightly across her arm when she couldn't find anything to pass as ink. Pricking her arm, she dipped her quill in it and carefully utilized the blood to write two short letters. When she'd finished, she signed her name extravagantly. She tore a strip of the soiled blue shirt she'd worn in Ostagar and wound it about her arm. Folding the first note, she had no wax for a seal and so moved the strip and used her blood again. Morrigan's letter she tied to a small hand mirror she'd purchased from Bodahn, who'd gotten it from another merchant in Orzammar. Looking at the little golden thing, she tried to wipe some of the dust from the mirror's side before placing it in plain sight on her bedroll pillow. Zevran's note she folded several times, trying for a heart shape but after not succeeding, she folded it in half in exasperation. It was written in one of many Antivan Crow codes. She'd learned it long ago, actually as a child in the Circle. She had no doubt Zevran would be able to decipher it easily. She finally rolled it, tucking it inside her last pouch of bath herbs and tying another string of the blue cloth around it. Sitting it beside the other note, she brought her knees up to rest her chin on them.

She didn't want to leave. She wanted to help, to save the world as she knew it. She was conflicted and angry and sad for herself. Her past transgressions prevented her from ever being fully honest with this small circle of comrades she had surrounded herself with. And then there were lives at stake. Lives forged in the past, ghosts of memories only. They must be. They must stay as ghosts and never materialize, for they'll haunt Fereldan forevermore if they do. She felt like the ghosts' chains were all wrapped about her body then, weighing her down. She wanted to just lie down and cry herself to sleep, but she knew it was time.

She would take only her staff and a small backpack. In it, she placed the few possessions she valued- Cailan's ring, a halla carving from ironbark, a small prayer book of poems, a purple cotton cloth stained darkly, a few keys, her empty phylactery and a locket. She ran her fingers over the locket, a simple brass one with a star carved on its front. A few wisps of blonde hair stuck out of the side. She tied the pack as tightly as she could and then wound its straps to her staff. Then...she waited. A full moon hung heavy in the ebony sky as she slipped out of her tent. Hiding behind it, she crouched, setting the pack and staff in front of her. Emptying her mind and relaxing her body she said the incantation over and over. Finally, her body began to warm and tremble. The spell became a frantic whisper, its words gaining power and wrapping her body in a cloak of magic. Weeks of watching Morrigan use the spell had paid off. With a powerful whoosh, a gust of wind blew back against the tent. Megara had shapeshifted. Her human body replaced by that of a sleek, sharp-eyed eagle. Her feathers were brown, the large talons a cream color. Unsure as to how long she had, Megara walked on unsteady eagle talons to her staff and tied bundle. The eagle instainct came naturally to her as she clutched the parcel and spread her magnificent wings. Hesitating only a moment, she sprang into the cold air, beating down hard on the wings and keeping her precious bundle clutched tight. Keeling to the side only once, she forced herself up and up until she seemed to mingle with the stars themselves. Her body trembled with the amount of energy it took to fly and keep the spell up. As she soared away she disallowed herself to look back, lest she had seen Morrigan watching from the campfire, smiling eerily.

Her heavy wings beat on the chilly air, pounding, taking her higher. Knowing she wouldn't last much longer in her first shape-shift, Megara concentrated on gliding now and getting as far from the camp as possible. She was looking for a place to land when her hold on the spell began to wane. She lowered her borrowed wings and started to descend. Suddenly, everything became unnaturally quiet. She couldn't hear the wind or her own breathing. She felt a blast of air hit her from behind and the screech of another, much larger bird. Just as Megara went to dive into a clearing, gigantic talons clenched her wings. Fear made her lose the spell entirely. She couldn't see what kind of bird had her. As if her body hit the ground, the force of losing the spell hit her. Blood dripped from her nose and eyes and she barely managed to keep hold of her staff. The bird's talons clenched her shoulders. She fought with what little strength she could muster but the bird blenched its talons, soaring through the night air. She lost consciousness as they neared the ground.

What seemed like hours later, she opened her hazy eyes. Staring back at her, towering over her rather, was Flemeth.


Morrigan,

You knew a time would come when I would have to leave. I am sorry I was unable to give you all of my secrets. You above all others I trust in this world. I hope to meet you again, friend. Your instructions have been critical to me and I can never thank you enough. Please, take this mirror. I purchased it, remembering the story you told me of one just like it. When you gaze into the reflection, know there is no other like you and that you are a treasured friend.

Megara


Zev.

You are no doubt by now quite angry with me. Perhaps not. Perhaps I mean nothing to you. Either way, I am so sorry. I have been running my whole life and it seems I am not done yet. You were right when you said some wounds won't heal on their own. Mine will not heal at all, it seems. They fester, spreading disease to my entire body, my entire life. I don't know if I will ever be free from this curse I have placed upon myself. I have no words to properly express my admiration of you. If I had stayed, if we'd had a bit more time. I don't know. I felt something stirring deep within me that I'd not felt in a long time. It matters not, now, I know. But please, don't think for a moment I do not care. You are my Antivan peach, as fragrant and desirable as a long summer with no troubles to bother me. I place a kiss upon this piece of silk, my favor to you.

Megara