a/n- Hello again, I think I've managed to update slightly faster this time so, good for me. On that note however, I have a very busy weekend coming up so it might not be a while before I post again. Warning aside, I hope that you all enjoy this chapter.
You Need Only Doubt
The Hinterlands seemed larger than they looked on a map. They stopped a short time after the sun had risen to rest, their interrupted sleep already taking a toll on their stamina. Enya donned her armour then and she found a sense of comfort in the feeling the cold iron scales gave her as the weight settled onto her bruised shoulders. After fastening the leather strap that held her greatsword to her back, she took a few bites of the cheese and bread Cassandra had given them and they all swung back onto their horses to continue their journey.
It was midday, as the horses picked their way up the slope of a particularly rocky hill that they received a notice from Leliana's scout, a Scout Harding, detailing the location of the camp. They stopped briefly, but never dismounted as Enya helped the Seeker find the most direct route on the map. When they arrived, they left their horses with some hands travelling further into the camp. Enya's eyes widened when she spotted her contact. The dwarf turned to her and it seemed that she was equally surprised.
"The Herald of Andraste," she bowed her head, "My men, the people here, everyone has heard the tale, but I hadn't thought…I didn't realize that the woman who closed the Breach was also a Dalish," The scout stood at full height and her presence made her seem taller than her dwarven body, "You won't find a man or woman in my company that would dare talk back to you for it. That, I can promise." She held eye contact well.
Enya found herself impressed by the young dwarf's manner. Anyone in her position despite her stature would have to be strong and at this very moment, the elf couldn't think of anyone stronger.
"I thank you for that," she responded with a smile.
"You probably have already guessed, I did send you a raven this morning. I'm Inquisition Scout Harding. My men and I are at your service."
"Harding, huh?" Varric wore what Enya considered to be a flirtatious smirk as he addressed the dwarven scout, "Have you ever been to Kirkwall?"
Scout Harding bore an expression of surprise as she turned to him, "I can't say that I have."
Varric's voice boiled with a joking tone as he said, "Well you'd be Harding in high…No, nevermind."
Scout Harding looked unimpressed and Cassandra scoffed, shaking her head. Enya stepped in, hoping to avoid any further interactions.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Scout Harding," She greeted pleasantly, "Leliana said that her contacts here would be able to help us find a chantry woman by the name of Mother Giselle?"
Harding nodded and turned, stepping away from them for a moment, "We have located her to be somewhere around the Crossroads. The only problem is that fighting between the mages of Templars has reached critically dangerous levels. They no longer seem to care for civilian casualty and seem to be focused solely on destroying their opponents. The Templars blame the mages for what happened at the Chantry and the Mages are offended that the Templars would accuse them." She drew in a breath, "The Templars were ordered to withdraw after what happened at the Conclave but most ignored the order. We've sent Inquisition forces into the area but our numbers, no matter how skilled, are still too low."
Cassandra stepped forward, "Send a raven to Commander Cullen asking for reinforcements. We cannot afford to lose the Hinterlands."
"We have, My Lady, but it will be several days before they arrive. We will just have to hold on a while longer. The refugees here need us." Scout Harding responded and then added, "Mother Giselle has been healing the wounded Inquisition soldiers down at the cross roads as well as any mages, Templars and civilians that are injured."
"A noble purpose," Solas cut in, "To dance between all sides in battle is a feat I would not have expected from a representative of the Chantry."
"She has asked to speak with the Herald," Cassandra commented acidly, "Clearly, her beliefs are of the Maker and not of the politics of her position."
"It was merely and observation of something unexpected, Seeker. I meant no offense. It is through the unexpected experiences that we learn what to expect."
Cassandra let out a growl at this. Enya licked her lips and glanced back at her companions with narrowed eyes. They silenced completely. When she turned back, Harding was staring at her curiously.
"If you run across any of my men down in the valley, please don't hesitate to help them. We weren't really hear for this. Lady Josephine sent use here to collect horses for the Inquisition. I grew up here, and Master Dennet's herd is one of the best in Ferelden. I remember watching them run through the fields bearing riders, but the fighting is so bad we can't get through to him. He's out in the Redcliff farms and we don't even know whether…well with the Rifts popping up everywhere and the fighting here, and bandits…He might not even still be alive."
Harding looked nearly heartbroken and Enya wondered if she had known Dennet personally while she had been growing up.
"Anyway, try to find him if you can. We truly do need better horses if we hope to make a difference in Thedas," Scout Harding paused, "You should move quickly. Corporal Vael and his men are holding the Crossroads as well as they can but the can only do so much."
"We will make every effort," Enya nodded to the dwarf woman, "Thank you, for your help."
"It is the least I can do for the Andraste's Herald," The dwarf bowed and the hurried off to talk to some of the soldiers that had just returned.
Enya turned back to her companions and the group set off down the road upon which the soldiers had just returned. They were on foot this time as it was less conspicuous and they were not going far. A small round house sat about halfway down amidst the rocky walls but they ignored it and kept going for they could hear fighting on the road ahead. The muted clangs of sword on amour and sword on sword, the snapping and crackling of magical energy hurtling through the air echoed from the stone walls of the road that surrounded them.
When they emerged from the rock crevice it was to a scene of utter chaos that their eyes were forced to adjust. Buildings stood, the charred skeletons of their former uses, bodies were strewn across the ground along with piles of ashes or pools of pinkish water that had once been a frozen person. Enya nearly gagged on the stench of it all. It was clear by the rotting odor that the fighting had been going on since the explosion of the Conclave and it showed little signs of letting up.
Cassandra broke into a run and charged past her, surprising the elf. The warrior came to a halt at the side of an Inquisition soldier whose leather armor was splashed with blood on his shield arm. Enya a fireball hurtled past her face and struck the Templar flat in the chest of his armor. It melted the red blade symbol and she heard him holler. She darted forward as well, attacking another with a rending blow to his plate armor. It was so strong and the weight of her sword so great that she knocked him flat on the ground. Her scale maille deflected his return blow and she found herself separating his head from his body as he struggled to his feet.
The spray of blood that hit her face broker her concentration for but a moment and yet it was a critical one. The ground in front of her exploded with ice and found herself on her back, surrounded by the glyphs of a mage. Her mind flitted to Solas, he used ice far more often than other magic to fight, but he was quite a way off, throwing blasts of cold at a Templar with a shield. A person advanced toward her, staff blade raised but someone intervened. She heard the click of a blt being fired from a crossbow and shook her frozen head to clear her eyes. The mage had been pinned to the stone wall of a garden and Varric held out a hand to her.
"Lucky I was there to save you, Kid," He commented gruffly.
She took his hand and allowed him to help her up. Her skin was freezing to the touch and she thought fervently that she would very much like to avoid encountering ice mages again. The elf nodded to the dwarf and then lunged around him, sinking her blade deep into the stomach of an attacker neither had noticed.
"Now we're even," she commented, leaving him as she noticed that the fight seemed to have dwindled where she stood.
Enya's blade whipped around before her and though she was loath to admit it, the song of the iron rushing through the air was almost comforting, despite the death that followed. The party helped the Inquisition's soldiers, weary from hours of intermittent fighting to defeat the immediate danger. The young men and women looked gratefully upon them before they left, hurrying back toward the camp. The elven warrior pushed on ahead toward the village at the Crossroads. It became instantly apparent that it had seen better days. Some scouts were pounding in a sign that cleary denoted the area to be under the protection of the Inquisition. She nodded to them as she passed, loose strands of her black hair falling into her face.
As she brushed them away, she remembered the blood that had splashed across her visage as her fingers brushed the crusted surface of it drying on her cheeks. She fought the urge to be sick as she remembered the stump of the man's neck spurting crimson fluid from its arteries. The elf paused and stepped over to the small pool of water next to the road and took off her gloves.
"We are meeting with a woman who is clearly on an errand of mercy," Enya explained as she knelt by the pool, "Let us not treat with her with the blood of our enemies on us."
Cassandra joined her at the pool as did Varric. Enya rubbed hard at the caked blood on her cheeks and hair, trying to get every bit off. When her reflection in the water no longer revealed missed splashes of blood, she rose and wiped her face with her hand to get the excess water from it. The group walked together along the road until they came to the small bridge at the entrance to the village. Two armed Inquistion soldiers stood, guarding, but as they saw her, they brought their feet together and clasped their right fist over their hearts, stepping back to let the party pass.
Enya led them through, between the soldiers and then turned to them, returning their gesture. Cassandra followed suit, giving the Inquisition's men the respect they deserved. The party ascended the stone steps up to the houses and buildings of the tiny town. From there it was easy to pick out Mother Giselle among the wounded and broken soldiers. Her red and gold Chantry habit stood out against the stark earth tones of the village and the cool grey of the stone. Beside her stood a mage who appeared calm. Enya found herself surprised to see a Chantry representative working with him so peacefully after the uprising but it seemed Mother Giselle was far more open-minded that many of her peers.
The soldier appeared to be a fallen Inquisition fighter, but the look of his armor and Enya was dismayed as she heard him proclaim rather loudly that he did not wish for the mage to treat his wounds. She had hoped the men of the Inquisition were beyond such prejudice, but she supposed, as she noticed the bleeding burn on his leg that he had been given good reason to be wary.
"Their magic has been turned to a better better cause. Surely, you can see that their intention is no more evil than your own," Mother Giselle's voice was soothing yet filled with a kind of caring reproach.
Whether it was from the pain or from her words, the man let out a groan and lay himself flat on the cot. As the Mother rose, the mage went to work on the wound.
"Mother Giselle?" Enya called when she was within earshot of the woman.
The Revered Mother turned and looked at her kindly but with questions in her eyes, "I am she." She paused and considered her addresser for a moment before continuing kindly, "And you, the Dalish elf, are the chosen of Andraste, for the Maker works in mysterious ways."
Enya furrowed her brow in response and lifted her chin. She did not think what the woman had said was an insult but nevertheless she responded, "I am Dalish yes, but I am the woman with which you asked to speak."
Mother Giselle nodded, "I did not mean your heritage as a mark against you in the eyes of humanity, though to many it would be." She smiled softly, "I merely meant that the Maker has chosen you, of all the fine people of Thedas, to be his bride's Herald. He does this to give mankind a chance to see the Dalish as more than a relic of memories they wish to forget. And to remind us that Andraste once fought alongside the enslaved Elvhen as comrades a millennia past."
Enya bowed her head in response. This woman's faith was overwhelming, and, in a way, incredibly beautiful. Her words held such certainty and the elf felt herself wishing that she too could have such belief in the choices of her Gods, but they were locked away, imprisoned by one of their own.
"You believe the tales then?" she asked the Revered Mother.
"I do," Mother Giselle replied, "You do not?"
"I…am not certain," Enya admitted. Her words held power despite her admission of unknowing.
"You must, Herald, for it is your belief in yourself that gives the people of Thedas a reason to hope," The Chantry mother pressed the palms of her hands together and gazed at her sternly, "We seldom have the opportunity to have a fate as great as yours."
Enya lowered her eyes in indecision, "I did not choose this path."
"Nor do many who face such adversity. They simply have fate thrust upon them," Mother Giselle stepped toward her, "But I did not ask you to come so that I might debate the merits and philosophies of your story."
"Why did you ask me here?" The elf replied, "You put yourself at great risk, speaking to me, now that the Chantry has denounced me and what I stand for. You are consorting with a known heretic."
"That matters not," The Revered Mother tiled her clothed head to the right, "There are some who truly believe you to be the cause of what happened at the Conclave, believe you are responsible for the death of our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, but there are also many who simply oppose you because they believe it will increase their chances of becoming the next Divine. Their use of this great loss for their own gains is…reprehensible." She paused, "but fear makes men and women desperate, and so they will cling to what seems to be the simplest explanation. It is easy for these people to gain favor by disparaging or blaming you, but they cannot get through to all who are frightened."
"What happened at the Conclave was a great tragedy," Enya comment, clenching a fist as she stared off into the forest on the other side of the crossroad, her eyes hardened, "It should not be made fodder for political gain."
"Indeed, but alas, you must use it as they have to gain a foothold with the people of Thedas," Mother Giselle explained softly, "You are the Herald of Andraste. Though many have chosen to see you as a threat rather than a savior, there are still more who have yet to survive. You accomplishments can be bolstered with the right leverage. Like myself, not everyone at the Chantry believe you to be at fault, but their voices are not heard because they know not why they believe your innocence," She paused, her ochre eyes searching Enya's face, "They have heard only frightful tales of you. Give them something else to believe in."
"You want me to appeal to them?" Enya replied, looking at her sharply.
"You have skill and power that you do not realize when it comes to the ways of words," Mother Giselle responded, "I would not suggest that you do so did I not think you were capable."
"I have been declared a heretic, surely they would not listen to me," The elf responded.
"You merely must make them doubt the word they have heard. Often a firsthand account will give others pause, for the words they have heard have come from many mouths while yours issues from one. You must break their unified voice. It is the source of their power. Take that away and you will be heard."
Enya looked down for a moment, mulling over the Revered Mother's words. They held much wisdom, though it seemed also some vain hope. What she asked seemed too simple, but then again, perhaps simplicity is what she needed in a plan. The world had become too complex since the explosion at the Conclave. Perhaps just talking would suffice.
"Thank you, Mother Giselle, for your council," she lifted her eyes from the ground to meet the Chantry Mother's, "You are very kind to offer us aid."
"I do not know whether you've been touch by Fate or sent with the Maker's grace to help us, but I have Hope," she drew a breath and stared back at the elf, "Hope is the weapon with which you will find allies, for with you as their guide they might rally. No other person has the power to build such a force of hope as you." She paused and set her shoulders, "You Sister Leliana was once a most trusted advisor in the Chantry. She was well known and well loved. I will go to Haven, Herald and speak with her. We will do what we can to arrange a meeting between yourself and those whose minds are open enough to hear your side of the story."
"Dareth Shiral, Mother Giselle," Enya called as the woman walked away.