Ruthless Pride

My shoulder is still hurting when we get back to Seere. It is discomforting, having my arm bound by the sling. I feel constricted and uneasy, aware of my increased vulnerability. While my studies of magic and my fighting style made me generally ambidextrous, truthfully I am more comfortable while using my right arm to do most of stuff. Which is. In a sling.

My frustration with temporary disability makes me prickly and the Seere Wings take care to avoid my biting comments. I channel these feelings into practice, constantly toying in one way or another with Bianca's gift. In the back of my head lingers certainty: had I been more proficient in its usage, I would have had no injuries at all. Or at most, a strain, I allow grumpily, glancing down at the useless limb bouncing against my torso.

In the meantime I also sort out the subservience and leadership issues. After delegating a couple of tasks to keep people busy the gloom and grief are partially forgotten. It will take time to bury Esme and Ebareth not only in body, but also in mind, but the first step to recovery has already been made.

With this I feel my tasks in the area have been accomplished. The new division leader Thes is still wet behind her ears, but my constant hovering will do her no good. In fact, currently my absence would be most beneficial; she needs to establish her authority over the agents here. Mindful of this I depart quickly, even though my wounds are yet to fully heal.

Having only one functional hand becomes troublesome in unexpected ways. Disrobing and washing up of any kind suddenly become insurmountable challenges, and with a grimace I hire inn attendants to assist me. This sort of dependence makes me even more irritable, and I channel it all into constant practice, else I begin striking out against people at random. The suggestive comments and helpful advices at taverns from the leery men do not help the issue.

Bianca has given me more than she could possibly realize. The silver string is more than just a tool – although it is that, too. And damn useful one. But more importantly, the focus poured into strand helps me in avoidance of my guilt, unresolved inner conflicts. I might have accepted my own cruelty whenever I deem it necessary, but that does not mean embracing it. Truthfully, I am running away from it, even in my thoughts. And the constant attention required while handling lyrium weapon is a constant reminder, because the smallest slip causes bleeding wounds, which sting enough to get my attention.

I travel to Minrathous, which is not exactly on the way to the Adamant, but I still have some time to get there. I deliver to Tessarian the few things I've managed to grab from Kont-aar – after, of course, our archivists create copies. From what I've gleaned, these papers expose a few well-positioned merchants as agents of the Qun within Empire, and hopefully, will be enough to convince Radonis of our – speaking in generalities – loyalty to Tevinter. The last year has been stressful on Magister Lucanus, his shoulders are hunched and his age has rapidly caught up with him. But burdens did not extinguish the bright spark of intelligence from his eyes, and his mind is as quick as ever. I can see he has questions for me, but they remain unspoken as we exchange our parting well-wishes. Tessarian knows I wouldn't have replied.

It is eerily quiet in our underground headquarters. Emptied of people, only a handful Wings have remained to keep an eye on things. Activity in most areas has been completely halted, Nervlis wisely ordained not to expose our lacklustre numbers to competitors. I drop by Tasha, left behind as overseer. She was the most logical choice, since her children are far too young to be dragged to a battlefield. Nonetheless I am surprised that she was left with no backup at all. Even Riv and Valeria, the two most oft left behind, have been taken along.

'Fenris did it on your orders, though…?' Tasha expresses her astonishment at my inquisitiveness in regards to that. I can hear the unasked question in her tone, and shrug neutrally.

'You know I leave him a degree of freedom when it comes to…' I trip, swallowing nearly said out-loud words. I cannot chase away the morbid play on double-edged meanings: executing his tasks from my mind, and pause mid-sentence awkwardly. Tasha notes it with a raised eyebrow, as I finally find my tongue back again and finish, 'his missions.'

'Ah.' She sighs dejectedly, and I know I hadn't fooled her. Sadness crosses her features, and I can't say whether it's because she was reminded of our friends' deaths, or because of the upcoming one.

'Well, you've been doing a good job here. I am going to rest for tonight, and depart tomorrow. I'm hoping to catch up with Ryanth before they reach Nevarra.' I walk away briskly, sparing both of us further discomfort. A wordless rejuvenation spell penetrates my aura as I walk through the doorway, easing the soreness of my limbs; but she does nothing to stop me. As the doors close behind me, I slump against the wood for a moment, sighing. We used to be pretty close, years back, and Tasha did not hesitate from expressing her honest opinions. Then. And now we cannot even console each comfortably. There's a distance between us; I am her leader, and she is one of my chiefs. An insurmountable barrier.

I've been aware of the slow shift in perception among my companions, but now it hits me with strength. I am no longer merely their friend; I am now a person who can give them orders they are ready to die for. When we had each other's back, facing adversities together with our Wings merely nine in number it was much different. I miss those days… I miss the person I used to be.

I leave Minrathous in haste, running away from unwelcome realizations and ghosts of the past. There's a haunting cognizance that I can't outrun reality, and all of these will remain for me to deal with at a later time… But I have grown proficient at hiding from uncomfortable truths; regardless how much of a hypocrite that makes of me. Pride, I am called. Ha. If only they knew how much of it is empty posturing…

I encounter Ryanth with the last dispatch of Wings halfway through Nevarra; a couple of days later than I intended, but I have strayed out of the way to visit Mausoleums in the capital and get a hold of the latest news. My actions have created waves, and are spoken of in hushed voices and degree of cautiousness.

I detest desert with as much vehemence as the first time I came here. Scorching heat with little to no shade, and thus no opportunities to escape the unrelenting sun. A dry air with gusts of wind which instead of soothing, only dehydrates one further. It also brings dust, which chokes throat and gets everywhere.

On my suggestion we travel mostly at night, and find refuge from the sun in canyons during the day. It forces us to climb down and then back up daily and slows us down some, but it is well worth the effort. Ryanth sends me uneasy glances, clearly brimming with unanswered questions, but he does not ask, and I do not feel generous.

The scouts see the tracks left after the Inquisition's army, and we discern that the column cannot be far away. The trails left behind vanish quickly on the desert. We are finally catching up with them, their force slowed down by the war machines and supply wagons. Since there's nothing to forage or hunt on the desert – or at least not enough to warrant attention – they would have been forced to bring a lot of food with them. I issue orders to return to more or less normal day and night cycle, with earlier mornings, later evenings and long break mid-day to avoid the worst hours.

The red on the skies begins to darken when we see the back guard of the moving army. They're under attack, and there's no time for pleasantries – with a forward gesture I order the Wings by my side to charge.

Clearly they've been ambushed, demon and Venatori forces attacking from the back and sides in a well-coordinated assault. By my side Ryanth chants, drawing in front of him quick defensive sigil, reaching to his Templar knowledge. Blinding light springs forth, and demons assaulting the back guard falter for the crucial few minutes. And then there we are, quick death from above, since we jump off elevation to join the fray.

For human enemies the string is useless in the middle of battle, requiring too much precision and concentration to direct properly; or alternatively a lot of strength to cut through armour which I do not have. But for demons it is perfect, lyrium decimating their unnatural bodies with ease.

I flay the string across to the side, and pierce through a lesser demon while twirling out of reach of a Tevinter blade. A crazed look crosses the eyes of my opponent, and he wears begins glowing. Foulness, a feeling of wrongness washes over me and instinctively I recognize the red lyrium etched into the steel plate. I shudder, and jump further away from him. I do not want that touching me, ever. Recalling my string with a thought, I swat off-course a throwing knife aimed at me. The dance just got more complicated, I realize with sudden excitement. Getting into rhythm with a string is more challenging than with merely my body, coated in aura.

The heavy armed opponent was challenged by one of Wings' Templars, and I decide to focus more on demons rather than the Venatori. Jumping across the battlefield, I entwine unnatural foes in silvery web and then pull it right through their bodies. They explode in a mass of dark gore, pierced into countless pieces and melting away, denied existence on this side of the realm. I do not fully realize when I have made my way through to the main group, where Nervlis and Fenris made their stand with remainder of Wings. Valeria holds higher ground with other archers and mages not far away; but their usefulness in this conditions is limited.

'You are late' greets me a grumble from Fenris, just as he impales one of the Venatori with his humongous sword.

'Here I thought my assistance would be appreciated.' I snark back, swinging my lovely toy over the neck of a large pride demon. Fade stepping behind its back, I wrap another layer of silver around him, and crossing my arms in front of me, pull. The ugly 'splat' can be heard, as the severed limbs fall on the ground, before disintegrating into a disgusting pool of ooze. I wipe off a trickle of black off my face, and sneer. I sincerely hope there's an oasis somewhere in the vicinity, or the whole lot of us will smell… interestingly until we conquer Adamant.

'So who screwed up and didn't have a backup plan prepared for this perfect ambush spot, leaving our vulnerability exposed like a lamb to be slaughtered?' I ask conversationally, jumping to Fenris' side and trying to look menacingly. Of course, I am not half as convincing as the white haired elf with lyrium glow… But my sudden appearance is enough to make the enemies pause for a moment.

'Actually we had a counter plan… which was supposed to turn it into opportunity and weaken Wardens… before we even got to the fortress.' Nervlis is heaving as he pulls out his dagger out of another corpse. Our enemies are suddenly invigorated for an unfathomable reason, and the standstill ends.

'I see it's gone off without a hitch.' My bland tone does little to hide the sarcastic note of my statement as I dodge a swing of a large poleaxe; but my lack of focus on the fight causes it to graze over my light armour. Fortunately, it and my aura are enough to stop it from actually cutting the skin, but it's a reminder to pay attention. With a sudden movement I grab onto the wooden shaft and pulling at it strongly I make the opponent stumble in my direction. Twirling to sidestep his fall I reach with one of my hands to his neck in a smooth motion, and leave him lying in a pool of blood from a severed artery. Next to me Fenris dashes forward and in a swooping motion chops off two heads in a single strike. Nervlis on the other hand has, apparently, run out of a throwing knives already, so I swiftly pull off my set and throw it to him. I have better tools at my disposition now, even though I still bring them along as a precaution.

'It was actually going pretty well… before things went South.' Counters my second calmly attaching the knives to his belt, and I am about to ask for clarification when an ear-deafening roar pre-emptively answers my questions. I lift my head and with slightly raised eyebrow watch the dragon-like abomination descend from the skies, and rain fire on our carts of supplies. The mage barrier manages to hold, for the moment, but it is clear unless something is done there will be trouble. With a capital T.

I tsk with disapproval, while swinging my string around the freshly summoned demon in front of us, only just forming. I barely give him? or her? let's settle on it; time to materialize before I pull it into its demise.

'Not accounting for stray…' I glance at the fast-moving, fire spewing shadow in the clouds. 'Or not so stray dragons is a beginners mistake! You were supposed to be a congregation of the greatest warriors and planners on Thedas, how come an overgrown lizard somehow threw a wrench into everything?'

'I do not think it's actually alive! Calling it a lizard is a stretch.' Shouts Fenris from behind us, and when did he get there? This is why I absolutely detest such battles – too many people. Keeping track of my surroundings while so many elements shift and move is nigh impossible. They limit my already severely limited movement. For a light-weight like me who can't take a direct hit, it is a lifeline I'm lacking. My fighting style requires plenty of movement since it focuses on dodging and out speeding an enemy. It makes me completely unsuitable to fight at the frontline – and I've never done that before. I was always part of the ambush or scouting groups during the Crimson March, who never engaged the enemy head on; and I'm displeasingly reminded why it is a bad idea.

Well, since I do not have a choice, the best I can do is survive.

'Undead or not, lizard is a lizard.' I shout back at Fenris who spares me a glare before returning to his power contest with an encased in steel warrior.

'Not this time, Quicksilver.' Nervlis denies. 'A normal dragon would create some mess, but it wouldn't be that much of a deal.' He suddenly lunges forward and slashes off fingers of his enemy, who screams and drops his sword. 'This one is much more intelligent and even more resistant to magic than usual dragons; not to mention we do not know what would happen if we actually killed it. What if it spread blight around?'

So we are doing a whole lot of nothing and let ourselves get pounded in the meantime? Somehow I do not think it is the best plan all around. Although I am fairly certain Fen and the others are preparing some sort of countermeasure up ahead, I do not think we can afford much longer.

My incredulity must be showing on my face, because he shrugs neutrally in response.

'Well then, try taking a shot at it. I want to get its attention.' I decide on spot, grab his arm and drag him away; leaving two stupefied enemies behind.

'I'm leaving it to you, Fenris!' I raise my voice, and the warrior seamlessly appears behind our backs, covering our retreat. It is no mean feat keeping three people at bay, but soon Wings close ranks around him and lessen the pressure.

We quickly climb up a foundation of rocks letting him have a clear view. Nervlis prefers to get close and personal while fighting, but he is a magnificent shot – on my more honest days I admit he is better than Valeria, who has been doing it her whole life. A natural talent; easily comparable to Sera.

He pulls an arrow, but before he can take his shot, I set the tip of it on fire. It decreases his aiming time, but I fully believe him capable of hitting the target.

The dragon flies just above us, and Nervlis does not waste the opportunity. It isn't hard to realize his shot reached the target, because beast sways wildly and roars in pain. Curious, that even as an undead it can feel pain – maybe it is not exactly dead?

We certainly got his attention. The dragon stops harassing supply wagons, flips around and flies straight at us. Both of us cover behind the rocks from the fire, but as the creature passes by, a strong gust of wind from his wings disturbs the rocks creating a small avalanche, bringing us down. I fade step out of the danger and flip around to check how Nerlis had fared.

He dodged the worst of the rubble and remains conscious, if lying flat on the sand. His right leg however is bent at an awkward angle – from the distance it is hard to judge whether it is a bad sprain or a broken bone. Just as I make my first step to aid him, a thundering roar announces return of the winged menace. He hovers directly above my second, and draws breath into his lungs.

Without second thought I immediately fade step twice to cross the distance, and shield Nervlis with my own body from the burst of flames. When the fiery breath reaches me I am overcome with sudden certainty – there's no way I can take it. Some part of me was aware of it prior to my intervention… But then the remainder of my coherence flees as I focus on pouring my mana into the aura for as long as possible.

The clash between fire and my aura creates a blindingly white sparks, and then miniscule explosions one after another as layers of my defence falter, cracking under the strain. My mana drains rapidly but it makes no difference – the fire is too strong for me to withstand. My aura erodes, crumbles like a house of cards blown away by the wind. Soon I begin having troubles breathing, choking on the heat.

Somewhere behind me there's a scream 'Sola!', calling out my name in Elvhen; but in my confused state I do not react.

Pure determination keeps me standing, when suddenly a male arm sneaks around my waist and a blast of chill lessens the pressure. I greedily breathe in cool breeze, while familiar power pushes the flames away.

My wolf had come.

Fen pulls me closer and entwines our auras defensively together, before casting his hand forward and raising spikes of ice from thin air. The dragon stubbornly perseveres in his efforts, but he is outmatched. Above my head Fen's amulet cracks loudly, as he forces more power through and the icy peaks around us grow larger, until there's another pained roar from the creature. He flails his neck wildly, and through the haze in my eyes I see two white spikes sticking out of his eyes. Awkwardly beating his wings he lifts farther away and makes his escape with sorrowful growls.

It signals the end of battle, our enemies completely discouraged by the departure of their terrifying ally. The organized assault begins to scatter into small groups of strugglers, demons left behind to slow down our chase by their human masters. Soon the racket begins quieting down, and healers start making their rounds.

The whole dragon ordeal lasted less than a minute, and yet I am exhausted. I slump; suddenly freed from the necessity of keeping my shields up, nearly dry of mana. I can feel a pounding headache in the back of my head, my body not adjusted to such rapid outpours of energy. I look up at Fen, slightly disconcerted by another debt to him.

He has a clearly disapproving expression, with a hint of sadness etched in his features, and suddenly I do not want to face it. Instead I turn to check on Nervlis, who scrambled up on his legs behind us.

'Wait, let me help.' I attempt to catch his arm but he sharply pulls away. I glance at him in astonishment, when Nervlis suddenly lifts his hand and slaps me.

I'm flabbergasted. My cheek stings and begins swelling but I still slowly lift my fingers to touch it in confirmation. The skin feels hot.

'Never, ever do anything like this again.' Nervlis growls, fire in his eyes. I really want to ask what's it all about – but pained expression on his face dissuades me from questioning. There will be time for it after he had gotten himself to the healers.

'Are you quite finishes?' I ask snippily instead, summoning a couple of Wings to help him move.

It's an effort to remain upright, the magical exhaustion fully seeping in; it is only because I hate showing any sign of weakness that I do not seek support myself. I nearly shake from overexertion watching as they take him away when Fen comes up and decisively scoops me up.

'What do you think you are doing?' I hiss angrily, fighting him off. It is a sign of my weakness how helplessly unsuccessful I am, as he puts me on his horse and mounts behind me.

'The scouts have set up camp ahead; had it not been for this ambush we would have long reached it. Keep up for a while longer.' Fen says shortly, completely ignoring my half-hearted efforts. But I can't leave my people unattended, now that I'm finally here. As I am about to protest again, a wave of crushing sleepiness overwhelms me. My last thought is that the damn wolf used a sleeping spell to keep me subdued. Cheater.

To say that I am pissed when I wake up and realize nearly two days have passed is an understatement. Solas kept me under this whole time to let me recover; and we finally reached the walls of Adamant. He had no right! I grumble under my nose, feeling a growing resentment towards him. I get that he was worried but it does not signify messing with my physical self in such manner… Not to mention interrupt a chain of command within Wings!

Of course, the world have managed just fine in spite of my playing the Sleeping Beauty. Nervlis, even partially incapacitated, is perfectly capable of receiving reports and making decisions; and with so many of us gathered he had an overwhelming support. Ryanth took over management of our portion of the camp, Fenris as usual stuck with security and Valeria enjoyed herself with the Inquisition. Truth to be told I would not be very surprised if she decided to remain with them indefinitely. She is completely enchanted by Ellana. There are days I can't believe I have raised her; somehow she turned out my exact opposite. Or maybe she is just a testament how much I detest myself – but I firmly squash that thought before it can lead any further.

'You are awake. Good. It is time for the strategy meeting.' Nervlis lifts his head seeing me emerge from my tent. I grimace at the way he completely glossed over my absence or his inexplicable behaviour; but considering the time I allow him to lead me to a central tent, where Inquisition's most trusted have converged. Even from the distance I can hear an ongoing argument. However as I part the cloth serving as a doorway, it gets deathly quiet and all eyes fall upon me.

I cast a quick glance about, noting only the barest necessities – large table, maps and light, and people gathered. All of the companions and advisors – Iron Bull skulking in the back – Hawke, a man who can only be Warden Stroud, myself and Nervlis, just walking in.

'Do not mind me.' I wave off their interest with a smirk, and suddenly they all find the roof incredibly fascinating, embarrassed at being caught staring. Finally, Cassandra clears her throat and speaks with an air of offence,

'You are late. We expected you two weeks ago.'

'Did you. How utterly predictable.' I smirk again, and Nervlis elaborates.

'If Fean'Na had ever kept to her schedule, she would have died long ago.'

'Wait, you knew she wasn't coming to sign the treaty…?' Ellana jumps angrily at his words.

'Of course. I mean, she specifically told me to inform you of her arrival; how much more obvious it could get?' Nervlis' eyes glint with amusement, and I am overcome with sudden tenderness. Of course he figured it out.

Cullen loudly taps on the wooden surface of table.

'Can we focus on the important things? The ritual takes place in a week; and getting through these walls quickly is going to be a considerable challenge.'

'How about we just let them follow through with it?' I ask nonchalantly, and again feel the weight of their gazes on me. 'I can take out the demon without much trouble, and it will save us the problem of having to storm the walls of damn fortress.'

'Just like you knew you could take on a dragon?' Cassandra quips sarcastically. I lift my brow and counter evenly,

'Nah, I knew I couldn't.' The temperature in the room suddenly drops, and table cracks from ice splinters near Fen. Everyone falls silent, looking at him with widened eyes. Heedless of it, he asks with deceptive softness,

'But you have counted on me making it there, haven't you?'

Unable to keep his gaze, I turn away and reply nonchalantly.

'Not really.'

A storm of emotions crosses his eyes, raging anger and unspeakable sadness. The awkward silence in the room continues until Dorian interrupts it, changing the topic.

'You are a mage as well though? What guarantee we have it will not make you an abomination?'

'Actually, that would make everything easier. Fenris has lots of experience with abominations; he would be able to bring me down without any problems.'

A wave of cool air reaches me as the wolf in front of me growls,

'Don't even joke about that.'

Fen's chilling look forces me to avert my eyes, and I shrug, hiding my sudden nervousness.

'Fine.' And returning to the previous topic, I continue my train of thought. 'Seriously though, it is the best method to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.'

'Aside from the Wardens, some sacrificed in a blasphemous ritual, others killed by the demon afterwards.' Stroud is decidedly unimpressed with my suggestion to leave his brethren to their fate. I do not take offence, knowing that in his place I would have likely felt the same. It does not affect my stance in the least, though.

'Tough luck.' I shrug indifferently. 'They are the ones being stupid enough to try it; and I am adverse to wasting the lives of my people for the sake of saving these idiots.'

'Noted and discarded.' Interrupts Ellana, just as Stroud looks ready to go for my neck. I sigh somewhat regretfully. Kicking his ass would have done wonders for my tense nerves. Alas, he calms down after her intervention, and merely sends me death threatening glares once in a while. 'Now, I would like to hear some other suggestions how are we to deal with this. Ones that do not involve leaving Wardens to certain death.' I disregard her warning stare in my direction.

It gets boring afterwards, and fighting off yawn I shift my attention elsewhere. It is soon clear there are no other definite solutions, and their best bet is to keep pounding on the damn gate until it breaks down. Considering the time limit and possibility of dragon intervention, I am not very keen on that idea. Not listening to their argument, I begin analysing the map on the table.

'I can crash the gate for you on the condition my Wings will be kept away from the frontline during the assault.' I break through their quarrelling, and they look at me blinking in astonishment. 'That is, if you are still keen on losing soldiers for the sake of people who are largely responsible for placing us in the Corypheus mess in the first place.'

'If you can do it, then go right ahead.' Ellana's voice rings with mockery, and I tilt my head in ironic gratitude at the approval.

Watch and learn, little girl.