Mahariel: Separation

Two nights of slow walking found the bedraggled company sans Morrigan huddled underneath the upturned roots of a fallen giant as dawn beckoned on the third day with a miserable grey sky. The oak must have toppled during a storm earlier in the winter but even in death, the tree provided them with firewood and a roof over their heads to duck out of the endless drizzle that had become a constant, unwanted companion. They were mere minutes outside of Lothering and a potential hot meal and warm beds, even Mahariel looked forward to being out of the wet and cold, even if it was surrounded by shems.

Morrigan had slipped into the form of a scrawny wolf with a length of limb suggesting her form wasn't yet of an adult to scout ahead at Cousland's request. Highwaymen plagued the southern bend of the Imperial Highway during the best days of the season. If there were refugees from the battle trickling north, it would be a feeding frenzy and they weren't in the best shape to take on a band of thieves. Until Morrigan came back with news, the wardens would take cover against the great oak and wait. They attempted their hand at passable conversation but even Tabris' forced cheer couldn't break through the weight of the previous week over the group. When she went quiet, her silence spread through the group until the half-hearted chatter faded and left the door open for the past to rush in and claim them. Mahariel pressed his head against the cold, rough bark and tried to use the memories of laughter and the crackling fire accompanying the storyteller's tales to keep himself positive. He wondered what the Clan was doing, where they were, how they were faring…

"She's back." Aeducan touched his good arm, rousing him from the doze he had fallen into. The golden-haired dwarf pointed to the end of one of the roots and Mahariel caught the shadow of a wolf, its golden eyes gleaming in the darkness beyond their shelter.

"If she's not approaching…" Mahariel wondered what trickery Fen'Harel had dragged before their path this day. He got to his feet and ducked out from their makeshift home to greet the wolf. Morrigan shifted back to her human form as he approached, the purple glow of her magic standing bright against the dreary grey of the morning. "What is wrong?"

"Highwaymen lurk along the road. I counted several bandit camps that were away from the village's outskirts." Morrigan grabbed her clothes from the upturned root she stood near as she continued speaking. She tugged her hood up as a pitiful cover from the miserable damp. "The village itself is bloated with wretched creatures, each group more pitiful than the last."

Mahariel didn't care to comment on her observation on the human refugees. He knew from his and Tamlen's journeys to the edges of human settlements that they treated their animals better than some of their poor at times, and that most those at the bottom of the heap did nothing to help themselves, but wallowed in the muck the villagers tossed their way. There were times Mahariel wondered if their city cousins were even worthy to return to the old ways. "Anything else?"

"Templars guard all the ways to walk into the village proper. The ring of refugees spreads out before them, and the scavengers pluck what they shall from the outskirts of even that mass of humanity." Morrigan ended her observations by taking her staff back from him.

"Templars?" Mahariel furrowed his brow. "They were the guards with the mages at Ostagar?"

"You do not know of the Templars?" Morrigan asked, curious. When he shook his head, she explained. "They are shackled dogs to the Chantry, unleashed only to hunt down 'apostates' and 'maleficarium' to protect the good, honest folk of Ferelden." The last bit was said in a mock sing-song voice, as if she'd been given that line many a time. "I know Lothering has a Chantry but 'tis curious how many more templars they have at their beck and call now. When I went through the village last I could count on a hand how many templars stayed in the village."

"How many are there now?"

"Now, mind you I did not enter into the village, but I counted over a dozen."

"A dozen?"

Morrigan nodded, and her countenance grew dim. "They are simply tools of the Chantry and have no thought of their own; 'tis an order of deadly tools. It took much of Mother's cunning to keep us from their witch-hunts in the Wilds."

"It could mean nothing but a side-effect of the refugee situation, the shems keeping crowd control." He mused; "or it could be trouble. We'll discuss it with the others." He returned to the oak with Morrigan at his heels. "Is Cousland awake?" He asked Aeducan.

"I am." The human called out. His voice was hoarse. Mahariel stayed put as he crouched awkwardly under the low ceiling to make his way over. "Is Morrigan back?"

"I am."

"What did you see?"

Behind Cousland, blue-white light flared over the group as Surana brought up her staff. The glow only heightened the weariness on their faces. She nudged Alistair with her boot as she moved over to where the talking was. After a moment, Tabris and Brosca approached as well, the latter looking a bit more recovered, but still shaken from her near-death experience. Finally Alistair joined them, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

Morrigan quirked a brow as she took in the larger group. "I did not realize that I was to be on display… but very well." She went into explaining to Cousland what she and Mahariel had spoken about. When she was finished, it wasn't Cousland who spoke first; it was Surana.

"They're looking for me."

"Who?" Alistair peered over at her.

"The templars."

"They can't know you survived," Aeducan assured the mage.

"I know." She glanced down at her hands. "If they're not looking for me, then they're there to collect the mages that wander up into Lothering for respite after Ostagar. Duncan had requested most of the senior enchanters. People can disappear in chaos and the templars won't much like mages being amongst those performing the disappearing act." Surana looked towards Morrigan. "They won't much like an apostate running around either."

"I told you she'd be a liability," Alistair grumbled under his breath to Tabris. The city elf seemed to not hear as she scooted up closer to listen.

Mahariel let out a sigh. "How do these templars know a mage from any one else?"

Surana opened her mouth to answer, but ended up only shrugging helplessly before she cast a hopeful glance in Alistair's direction. Alistair, for his part, blinked owlishly when he looked up to see the entire company looking his way. "What?"

"He's been comtemplating his navel all our journey north, what makes you think he'll be of any use to us now?" Morrigan scoffed.

Alistair's features darkened. "Shut up. It's called grieving. What would you do if your mother died?"

Morrigan squinted at him. "Are we talking before or after I stopped laughing?"

"Right. Very creepy." He turned away from her. "Forget I asked." He faced Surana again. "What were you asking?"

"How does a templar know if a mage is about?"

Alistair frowned with thought. "I never completed my templar training, but I think it had something to do with the lyrium."

"Lyrium?" Surana blinked. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Alistair froze, "did I say lyrium? I meant the learrrrning. Learning. That's what I meant." He clapped his hands together. "Learning I never picked up, so, I don't know really."

Surana took it at face value but Mahariel shook his head. "You never learned how to lie well, either." The Dalish noted.

Alistair flashed a sheepish smile. "Right. Er, well, it's Chantry secret how the templars gain their powers and knowledge. When Duncan recruited me, the Revered Mother swore me to never give away the secrets."

"It will aid us, Alistair," Cousland protested, but the templar shook his head.

"I made a vow, and I don't know or trust any of you well enough to want to break that vow." He caught Morrigan's glower. "Especially when mages like her are about to listen in."

"What?" She sniffed haughtily. "I have taken on templars before. I need no secrets to know how to break them."

"Enough!" Aeducan barked before Alistair could retort. He glared at the two until both of them looked away; Morrigan scowling at the wilderness around them; Alistair glaring down at his hands. "If Alistair made a vow, we will not ask him to dishonor it. We will simply find another way to move through the village without drawing attention to ourselves." He addressed Surana. "Are you sure templars can't just… sniff out mages?"

Surana shrugged. "I-I… don't know, really. It was something talked about amongst the apprentices but we were never allowed to talk to the templars at all." Her eartips flushed pink in the light from her staff but if there was a story behind it, she wasn't giving up the tale.

He glanced to Morrigan. "What about you? How did these templars start their witch-hunts?"

Morrigan bit her lip. Even as she theorized, her words held a bitter, mocking ring to them."T'would be after Mother or I were accused during a trading mission. Mostly by a fearful Chasind woman who thought we were there to steal her man away." She brought a finger up to tap the nail against her chin. "Now that I think on it, t'wasn't too hard to leave them behind if Mother felt that a confrontation was a waste of energy."

"So, templars can't just sense a mage in the crowd?" Aeducan looked to Alistair. "Can you confirm that without breaking your oath?"

Alistair frowned, but nodded. "I suppose it wouldn't violate the secrets. Er, you're right, though. Templars just can't pick out a mage from a line-up. We can sense the flare of magic in an area though."

"So then Morrigan and Neria will keep the magic use to an absolute zero," Cousland looked at the two mages. "Work for you?"

Surana nodded while Morrigan sneered and stared out towards the wilderness again. "Very well," she finally managed, though it looked like it was painful for her to say. After a moment though, the bitterness left her eyes. She studied Surana quietly until the white-haired mage squirmed underneath the stare.

"What?" Surana finally asked.

"Nothing," Morrigan gave her a secretive smile and pushed off her knees until she stood above them all. "Let me know when we set out then."

Mahariel watched her go. At a gentle tug on his good arm, he turned to see Tabris staring at him. "Yes?"

"We'll need clothing. Surana, you an' me." She gestured to the three of them. "And we'll have to leave the weapons here."

"Why?"

"Elves aren't allowed to carry weapons. Or wear armor …even torn up leather armor." She said that bit while she glanced forlornly down at the patched up armor that clung to her small frame.

Mahariel frowned. "I will not let a Shemlen dictate what I can and cannot wear."

Even Surana looked puzzled at Tabris' words. "I know I'll need another outfit, as this is a robe of the Mage's Circle but-"

"You said we don't want their attention on us, right?" Tabris scowled at them. "Then you'll have to keep the weapons here and dress in commoner's clothing lest the templars wonder why three elves are walking about with weapons they shouldn't have."

"Then how do you know how to wield those daggers so well?" Mahariel countered. "If weapons are forbidden to our people and you so keen to heed shem law, then surely you have never touched a blade before Ostagar."

"My Mother taught me, I told you that." Tabris said off-handedly, pointedly ignoring the bait. As a last chance, she turned to Cousland. "You're noble-born. Tell them the punishment for elves being caught with weapons."

Cousland's eyes widened and he tried to stammer a protest. Tabris only glowered. "I know you know, Cousland. Your family's second only to the royal family in Denerim. Your city, Highever, has the second largest Alienage. You employed just under twenty elves in your castle alone and that's not including the summer manors dotted across the Teyrnship!"

"How did you know-?"

"I have three cousins who sent me letters every week." She said smugly. "I probably know more about how your castle was run than you did." She grew quiet after a moment. "They spoke fondly of your father, and of you. They said that if they had a choice in the matter, they'd happily stay with the Couslands of Highever for no shems were worth the title of noble more than your family." She gave the man a gentle smile. "I'm sorry for what happened."

"How di-"

"You spoke of it to the King. We were all standing there." Mahariel cut in smoothly. "If what you spoke were true, then I will aid you in avenging your clan." He looked to the others, each of them lifting their heads to offer their own nods to Cousland. Cousland coughed and had to avert his gaze. Mahariel recognized the flush of embarrassment and guilt that burned on the human's face but he didn't let up his stare until Cousland finally looked his way.

"It won't hinder what we need to do," he muttered, his gaze wavering against the weight of Mahariel's steady one.

"You'll have to grieve one day, Cousland." Mahariel spoke, not unkindly.

"Yeah?" The tall, dark-haired noble stiffened. "What about the rest of you then? Do we all circle up and have one long cry-out because life threw shit in our faces?" He glared at each of them and all of them save Morrigan broke away first. The witch appeared confused more than anything else. "Exactly what I thought. None of you have opened up about what happened before Ostagar, why should I?"

"Th-" Mahariel reared back when Cousland suddenly lurched forward. Their gazes locked much like the crash of antlers of stags vying for dominance.

"The past is dead." Cousland's growl was feral and dark. His eyes blazed dangerously. "The only thing that matters right now is survival. Once we figure out what the hell is going on, we'll go our separate ways." He rocked back to his heels before he pushed out of their alcove.

"Where are you going?" Aeducan asked, his voice steady and neutral.

"We need to dispose of the bandits before we reach the town or we'll have nothing but trouble dogging us." Cousland whistled sharply for Sarim to follow him, the mabari lurching to it's feet and in two powerful bounds was at Cousland's side. Tabris followed, scurrying from beside Brosca to snatch up her daggers as she quickened to Cousland's other side.

"What?"

"I'm going to help. They'll have supplies from looting, right? We'll need them more than the dead bandits will." Mahariel heard Tabris mutter before the two stalked into a gray fog that obscured them from the company's sight in heartbeats.