Notes: I am unsure about this chapter, because of the nature of it and the fact that I'm doing more with this quest than just narrating the events as they occur. Do let me know how it works.
Chapter 16: A Gauntlet
Elissa felt better the next morning. It had felt good to talk about these things, to face the wound. Gone were the vulnerability and embarrassment that she had felt in Redcliffe after her companions saw her fall to the ground in a miserable flashback. She would prefer still that some of her companions did not see vulnerable moments, but Leliana was not one of them.
After what Leliana herself had confessed, she understood that they were on a special level of trust. It was brave to admit to having been involved in a plot—even unknowingly and unwillingly—that, had it succeeded, would have embroiled Ferelden in a renewed war. Most Fereldans would judge and condemn Leliana, and she had to know it. Yet she had trusted Elissa.
Elissa was glad that she had finally told someone about Faolin, Vaughan, and her special talent. When she had lost her family, she had realized that there might be no one but herself alive who knew what she was, what the wolf had meant to her, other than her former lover—who disapproved of it. That degree of aloneness was hard to take. But now someone did know, someone who thought the gift a fine thing.
She thought of the longings she had felt before Howe attacked Highever and everything changed. No one had ever had everything. One was too different from her in station, one was too superficial, one was too brief, one was a liar... and one was too judgmental.
But I am a Grey Warden now, and Leliana is not my servant, but my comrade-in-arms. She is smart and thoughtful and I love to talk with her... she wants love in her life again too... she is not deceiving me... and she accepts me, even this strange, half-mystical part of me. Perhaps Leliana can be all the things that my other lovers and fancies weren't...
Elissa broke off this thought. We talked about it, and there is a good chance in the future. She knows that I am interested and returns the interest. She just wants to take her time and be sure. She wants anything we build to be based on more than unhappiness and pain, as she said. A smile involuntarily formed on her face. I can wait for that.
Elissa noticed a certain pointed look in Wynne's eyes. She was not surprised when Wynne gestured at her for a private word.
"You're quite taken with each other, aren't you?"
"We are," she replied, her tones cool. "We aren't a couple yet, but we've discussed it as a possibility for the future. I hope it doesn't offend you, two women together." There was an edge to her last sentence, an implication that if it did, the mage had best keep her views to herself.
However, Wynne shook her head. "Some women are attracted to other women. It is part of the variety of the Maker's world. No, I mention this for another reason. I've seen the way she looks at you, the familiarity with which you speak, how she always finds a way to place herself next to you."
Elissa smiled in spite of things. "So she does. We are good for each other."
"I've noticed your blossoming relationship, and I wanted to ask you where you thought it was going. Leliana is a remarkable girl, sincere and guileless, and she has opened her heart to you. I would not like to see her hurt."
"She isn't as guileless as you think," Elissa said wryly. "Sincere, yes—but she knows a lot about guile. And I don't much like what you seem to be implying. I'm not tricking or manipulating her. I don't intend to hurt her."
"Not intentionally, no. I misspoke and I apologize. I know you do not mean ill to her. But there is great potential for tragedy here."
Elissa tried to control her annoyance. "We could die, it's true," she said. "We lead risky lives. But everyone will die someday. That's no reason to refuse the chance of love when it presents itself."
"Oh, I am doing a terrible job of explaining myself," Wynne lamented. "What I mean is this. Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. A Grey Warden cannot afford to be selfish. You may be forced to make a choice between saving your love and saving everyone else, and then what would you do?"
Elissa gaped at the mage. "Do you know something about Grey Wardens along those lines? If you do, I'd prefer that you just told me."
She shook her head. "No, I don't know any Grey Warden secrets. I merely speak with the experience of an older woman." A sad look came over her.
Elissa was intensely curious about what Wynne meant by "experience," but she decided not to ask right now. "Leliana and I can handle what life—what the Blight—throws at us together," she said. "We're stronger that way. We have helped each other. I'm not going to cut that out of our lives now."
"If you insist." This seemed to indicate that the discussion was at an end. She gave Elissa a concerned look as she moved back to gather her things.
Elissa did not know what to make of Wynne's conversation. She did not believe that Wynne had lied about knowing some dark secret of Grey Wardens that would require her to choose between Leliana and saving Ferelden, but there was something that Wynne had not told her. She was sure of it.
She tried to put the discussion out of her head as they continued into the mountains, focusing instead on the task before them—ironically, doing as Wynne would have her do.
The signs of Avvar settlement dwindled and faded as they headed deeper into the hills. Elissa consulted her map and took her bearings. The village of Haven should be nearby—if it existed.
It must exist, she thought. The people who ambushed the Redcliffe knights at the tavern probably came from there. The mage who impersonated Weylon, too. And Genitivi himself disappeared, perhaps to this town. I hope he is still alive. They may have killed him if he made it there.
She scowled. Genitivi's decision to seek Haven was his own, and had nothing to do with Arl Eamon, but the fact that so many knights had been murdered was due to Eamon's condition. She knew it was unfair to cast blame on the arl himself, since it was Isolde who had given the orders. But she also could not get the thought out of her mind that Eamon Guerrin was not exactly the most deserving recipient of Andraste's blessing. The things that Alistair had told her of his treatment at Redcliffe came back to her. This is the man who will receive a pinch of the rarest and most valuable substance in all of Thedas, if they exist. A finite substance. He'll get some of them and then that portion will be gone forever. Why does Eamon Guerrin deserve such a blessing? How many people have died needlessly, and people far more deserving of grace?
Elissa considered the majesty and holiness of Andraste. The Maker surely could not have intended some part of her body to be used to heal Eamon bloody Guerrin a thousand years later! It was absurd, surreal, almost dark comedy. People could loot the remains of His Bride to distribute to political benefactors and He would not stop it. That this was potentially going to happen looked like evidence that the Maker had indeed turned His gaze from the world.
Little did Elissa know that Leliana was having similar thoughts. Her mind was filled with memories of people she had loved or cared for, who were now gone: her mother, Lady Cecilie, Tug... Caitlyn and her family, if they have died, she thought. Or Anders, or Elissa's family, though Leliana had never met them. Any of these people seemed at least equally deserving as Arl Eamon, and some of them were more so. Yet there had been no grace for them.
There was no grace for the thousands who were dying of the plague that was spreading across their land. It cut people down without rhyme or reason, and there was no divine mercy for them. There was no grace for the dutiful soldiers who fought for or against Loghain, or the civilians who took a side based on the information available to them. The civil war was another source of death and division in a time of Blight, and the Maker had not granted His grace to anyone involved in it either.
The Maker had not intervened to spare anyone Leliana had cared for who had died. He had not sent any Grey Wardens or other seekers to their sides to find a pinch of His Prophet's mortal remains. He was not intervening miraculously to stop the Blight or the civil war. If He was intervening at all, it was indirectly, through His Children—and that was the whole problem, the enigma that Leliana could not solve. Why would He have sent Elissa and her companions to Redcliffe just in time for Arl Eamon? What was so special about him? He was just a nobleman, and, based on how he had allowed Alistair to be treated, not the most virtuous one in Ferelden. The Couslands surely had been better people. Why had the Maker not saved them?
She noticed that Elissa's brow was furrowed in thought. "Are you all right?" she asked her companion.
"I don't know," Elissa said. "This mission bothers me in a way. If the Ashes of Andraste exist, and we find them, why should Arl Eamon be so blessed? Why does he deserve this boon from the Maker?"
In spite of the fact that she had been unable to answer this very question for herself, Leliana smiled. There was a certain comfort in knowing that someone else had the same thought. "I was thinking of this very thing," she said. "There are many others who deserve the Maker's grace, are there not? Or did deserve to be spared, but were not."
Elissa cast down her gaze. "Yes," she said quietly, remembering her family.
Leliana gave her a sympathetic look. "But..." As she spoke, the answer—or at least, what she hoped was the answer, what felt right to her—came to her. "I think... I think this is not about Arl Eamon, and we should not make it so."
"What do you mean? We're here because of him."
"We are, but... it is not for us to decide who is 'worthy' of the Maker's blessing. Perhaps no one truly 'deserves' it. But this is not truly about procuring an item for him. That... diminishes Andraste. It reduces her to an object. If these Ashes exist and have the virtue that they are said to have, that is physical evidence that she was a true prophet of the Maker. The Tevinters apparently believe that she was a powerful mage, but even if that were true, no mage's ashes have ever healed someone on the brink of death. This is not about Arl Eamon. If these Ashes exist and are true, this will have been a journey of faith," she decided, "for us and for the world."
Elissa thought about that. It was comforting, she decided. It would add some spiritual sense and justice to a task that otherwise seemed to have none at all. Perhaps Leliana was right.
The howl of a wolf pierced the air as the small group made its way up a hill. Elissa's ears perked up. She could not tell if an ordinary wolf or direwolf made the sound, but whichever it was, it was close. She felt a tug deep in her soul at the proximity of the animal. I will not, she thought. Not here. I will see what this wolf does, if it seeks me out first. I won't force it.
Their cross-country hiking had now given way to a trail, and not one made by the Avvar. She wondered at it but continued to make her way up the slope, until what had to be the village of Haven came into her sight.
In the next moment, a man stormed into the path, blocking them, bidding them halt.
"What are you doing in Haven? There is nothing for you here."
Elissa stepped forward. "I am looking for a man named Genitivi, who left notes that he was seeking Haven. We think he might have arrived here."
The guard's hostility increased visibly. "I do not know any Genitivi, but perhaps Revered Father Eirik will."
They all gaped. "Revered Father?" Leliana said. "Your priest is a man?"
"It has always been thus in Haven. We do not question tradition."
"In Tevinter..." Wynne began to say quietly, but Elissa cut this off, not wanting to offend the guard further.
"Very well. Your traditions are your affair. We're just seeking Genitivi, because his absence has been noted in our lands. We come in peace."
"Regardless, we do not appreciate lowlanders looking about our home. You may trade at the shop. Then I suggest that you leave." He moved his weapons aside to let them pass.
"We should tread carefully here," Wynne said in a tone too low for the guard to hear, as they walked past. "Something is amiss."
"I agree," Leliana said. "This is more than a mere insular community not accustomed to visitors."
Elissa decided to trust Leliana's bardic instincts. Something about the town unnerved her too. "We're going to keep our heads down," she said, "find Genitivi, and then decide what to do next." She gave them a pointed look as they approached the main clearing. "No comments to these people about their priest. We're not an Exalted March."
"In Tevinter, as I'm sure you both know, the priests are men," Wynne said quietly, "but the schism that created the Imperial Chantry happened relatively recently in Thedosian history. They have not come south since then to impose it upon us. That this is the custom here too would suggest that, perhaps, these people have held it for a far longer time than the Imperial Chantry has existed."
"The Tevinter Chantry adopted male priests because the priests of the Old Gods were men," Elissa agreed, remembering her history lessons at Highever. "That and to stick a finger at the true Divine, I'm sure. But I agree that this could long predate the schism. These people might really have been here since Andraste's death."
"Which in itself is hopeful," Leliana said.
Being in the village was like walking on eggshells. The shopkeeper was hostile, the townsfolk were hostile, and a child was singing a profoundly sinister and disturbing nursery rhyme that Elissa had never heard of in an ominous-yet-listless tone. As a girl, she had heard certain nursery rhymes that had a dark cast. When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall—and the baby would be broken and bloody dead. Elissa had never sung that one; the words had struck her rather than the rhyme, and they were awful. This was of much the same type.
When she accidentally burst in on a house where a bloodstained altar was visible in a darkened corner, and Oscar growled quietly at it, she had to hurry Leliana and Wynne out before they noticed. Elissa hoped that it was animal blood and that someone had merely appropriated an altar for a butcher's block, but she had a dark fear that neither was the case. It was one thing for her companions to hold their tongues about witnessing mild heresies; it was quite another for them to keep silent about human sacrifice.
Elissa gathered her companions into a huddle. "I don't want to spend one minute longer here than we have to," she said grimly. "We need to find Genitivi—if he is even still alive—and find the rest of his notes if he isn't. If the Sacred Ashes are around here, we need to get them and leave. This is a bad place, and it isn't because they are unorthodox. The Avvar aren't Andrastian at all and I did not get this feeling of evil, darkness, wrongness about the hold we stayed in last night."
Leliana nodded firmly. Wynne was about to cast a ward of protection over the team as they prepared to approach the village chantry—when another lupine howl broke the silence. The sense of kinship that Elissa had felt as the wolf first howled returned to her.
She pushed it away, not wanting to draw an innocent wild creature into this evil place. "Let's find this chantry."
Finally, some answers. They had found the village chantry, which, sure enough, was ruled by a male priest—who was also a mage. It was strange and somewhat off-putting to Elissa, and in combination with the bloody altar and feeling of malice in this place, a male mage priest strongly evoked ideas of an ancient priest of the Old Gods, fierce dragons who demanded human sacrifice. And one of whom I am going to kill to end the Blight, she thought. But she swallowed her dislike and fear and tried to talk peaceably with the Revered Father—until he ordered the entire group killed.
It had not gone well for him and his lackeys, however. Elissa, her friends, and her dog were already making short work of the attackers when another burst through the open doors to join them: a wolf. It seemed large to Elissa if it were an ordinary wolf, but she could not be sure in combat. Instead of siding with the villagers, however, it defended her and her friends. She was sure, as the animal rent the throat of an attacker, that this was the wolf that had been howling all along. She had not called it, at least not consciously; it had come to her aid, sensing her danger. It had been the wolf's choice, she thought, just as Leliana had said that night in the Avvar hold about Faolin.
After the priest and his lackeys lay dead on the floor, she examined the wolf closely and realized that this was not an ordinary wolf. It was a half-grown female direwolf.
"You're so beautiful," she told the animal, rubbing her thick fur. "And you helped us. Thank you! But you can go free if you want."
The wolf merely yipped. Oscar ambled up next to her, barking as if in support. Elissa could not send it away—and a part of her didn't want to.
And then, Leliana had noticed a secret door in the chantry, which they shoved aside to find a sickly, injured Brother Genitivi—in bad shape, but shockingly enough, alive.
"You don't know how glad I am to see someone who isn't from this village," he groaned.
"Wynne," Elissa said, noting his injured leg, "can you help him?"
As the mage cast a healing spell at him and bent down to bandage his leg, he continued to talk. "I don't have time to rest. I'm so close. The urn of Andraste's Ashes is just up the mountain."
Elissa's heart thumped hard. "You know this for certain?"
"I'm certain. I have heard the villagers talking. I know the Urn is there. There is a temple built to protect the Ashes, a very old temple, and I've seen Eirik use a certain medallion to gain entry."
"Eirik is dead," Elissa said. She sighed. "I didn't come here to kill anyone, but they attacked us, and now, after seeing what they have done to you, for no cause whatever..." She glowered. "I wish we had attacked them first."
"It is still better that you don't have that on your soul," the scholar said gently. "But if Eirik is dead, we should be able to find the medallion on him."
"What do you know about these people?" Elissa asked him as Leliana headed to the body to search for the item. "How did they get so... debased?"
He sighed. "I think that they must be descended from the original Disciples of Andraste, who brought her ashes away from Tevinter. But as you say, they have debased themselves. They think they worship Andraste—"
"One should not worship Andraste," Leliana said as she returned, medallion in hand. "Honor and revere her, yes, but she herself called upon the world to worship the Maker."
"Well, these people seem to have forgotten that," Genitivi said. "They only speak of Andraste now. And... I have not been able to prove my suspicions, because I haven't been able to get into that temple... but there is something I suspect about them that you should know about." He rummaged through his supplies, withdrawing a book, which he handed to Elissa.
She gazed at the title, menacing and portentous: Flame and Scale.
When they entered the temple, Elissa's dark thoughts momentarily lifted at the sheer grandeur of it. It was truly magnificent, a fitting structure for the resting place of the Prophet's Ashes. The snow that covered the ground only added to it. The people who had built this had to have honored Andraste, worshiped the Maker, and followed her teachings. This was a holy place.
But, as she quickly discovered, it too was defiled by the murderous villagers—except that these had become something much worse.
"A dragon cult!" Elissa exclaimed, shocked and angry as Wynne mopped up her wounds and healed her burns. They had had to cut their way through wave after wave of fanatical people, an abnormally high number of them mages, who attacked on sight, not even attempting to parley. Any qualms that Elissa had felt about killing these people quickly vanished. She was being attacked for no reason; she would fight back and defend her life with lethal force. Oscar and the wolf joined in, the wolf having accompanied them up the mountain.
Then they had found their way into a series of tunnels that were populated by a shocking number of dragons. There were eggs, dragonlings, and a handful of drakes—which had put up a serious challenge to the group, and had caused Elissa's injuries—but there were no fully grown High Dragons here.
And yet there were eggs. The drakes were males; for there to be eggs and young, there had to be a female somewhere. Elissa hoped that it was not a fully grown dragon.
"I suppose Brother Genitivi did warn us," Leliana muttered darkly. Wynne had already patched her up; she had taken a burn even worse. "Just imagine! Their ancestors brought Andraste's Ashes here, but now, they worship dragons, as if they were no better than the priests of the Old Gods! They must have bonded with these dragons, to be able to domesticate them like this."
Elissa glanced at her wolf, which she was starting to think of as "hers" now, defying her own resistance to having another wolf. I don't worship wolves, she thought, but is this a similar thing, just with a different animal?
Leliana, amazingly—or perhaps not so amazingly, considering how well she seemed to understand Elissa—instantly realized what she was thinking. "Oh, I am sorry," she said feelingly. "Your bond with wolves is not the same at all. And if these people do bond with their dragons to domesticate them, that in itself would not be evil, no? The problem is that they worship them and appear to make sacrifices to them, including of people. That is the evil."
Elissa managed a smile. The wolf nuzzled her on one side, Oscar on the other.
"They have no faith in the Maker or the true Andraste," Leliana continued, "so they must worship something that they can see. It is sad. I understand the motive now," she said quietly, "but it is still sad."
As they continued into the depths of the temple, Elissa thought about this. Leliana did not seem to be implying that the cultists were evil because they had no faith in the unseen, but she had said that it made her sad.
I suppose it is sad, Elissa thought. That... rather describes me now, and it makes me sad too. Even if Leliana has moments of doubt, she never loses her faith. She has it, but I need evidence and proof now. I have... lost my faith that the Maker cares for us, that He still is an active force in what happens in this world. So much evil happens for no reason. Good things happen to bad people. Howe has become the right hand of the Regent because he murdered my family and successfully lied about it. Bad things happen to good people. The Blight cuts down thousands, not making any distinction between the wicked and the righteous. And now, we're going to loot the Urn of the Prophet in order to take part of her back to an unremarkable Fereldan nobleman.
No wonder the Maker turned His gaze away from the world after we killed His messenger. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe we deserve everything we get.
Yet somehow, despite all of this, Leliana still has faith... and I really don't. It can't be because of something that happened to me that didn't happen to her. I lost my family to violence, but she is no stranger to violence herself. She lived a far less privileged life than I have. She has faith still, I guess, because there is something about her, something she has that I lack. One either has the capacity to hold onto faith in terrible circumstances or... doesn't.
Memories of dialogue and debate with other companions came back to her. Specifically, Morrigan was very vocal about her scorn for faith in the unseen. "Magic is real. I can touch it and command it and I need no faith for it to fill me up inside. If you are looking for your higher power, there it is." It was a statement that Morrigan too needed sensory evidence to accept something. Elissa wondered if some of her comments were merely provocative, performative cynicism—but not all of them, of that she was sure.
"Copper for your thoughts."
Elissa looked up quickly at Leliana. "I suppose I have been lost in thought for a while," she said. "I was just thinking about what you said about needing to see something, not being able to have faith without evidence." She sighed. "I think I've become like that now."
Leliana gave her a deeply sympathetic look. "I did not mean that there was anything wrong with it," she said quietly. "I did not mean that you were anything like these dragon cultists in any way that matters. There are priests who make it a moral judgment when someone cannot accept a claim without evidence. I will not do that. There is nothing wrong with it. There is a dark side to anything, and being too eager to accept claims without evidence is a bad thing. But... needing evidence and not finding it does cause pain for you. I said it was sad because of the doubt and accompanying pain."
Elissa managed a smile. "I understand. And I hope that the Ashes are here. If they are, I won't worship them, but it will be nice to have a boost to my faith in the form of physical evidence."
Leliana smiled. "I agree—more than you may realize."
Yes, there was a High Dragon.
Elissa and her companions had finally found a cultist who was ostensibly willing to parley—a powerful fighter who gave his name as Kolgrim. He had wanted to know why they had come bearing arms and "slaughtering" them in their temple—as if the cultists had done nothing, rather than attacking the party on sight from the beginning. Yet Elissa had been willing to talk with him if it would stop the bloodshed—until he made the crazed declaration that Andraste, murdered a millennium ago, had "overcome death itself and has returned to her faithful." This, after acknowledging that the Urn of Sacred Ashes existed.
It was too much for Elissa. She was sick of dragonsblood-drinking cultists attacking her unprovoked. Yes, perhaps this was "their" temple in the sense that they occupied it, and she was a stranger—but what legitimate religion tried to murder people on sight for entering a sanctuary in peace? She was sick of these people's dragon worship, their human sacrifice. They had fed people to these things. If any knights of Redcliffe had made it here, their fate was all too apparent to Elissa. Genitivi would have met the same fate if they had not arrived in time. "You're mad," she exploded. "Andraste is dead." And thus had ended any chance for peace with the cult.
She had gravely regretted her rash words when they stepped over the bodies of Kolgrim and his followers into the crisp mountain air... and a High Dragon descended upon them.
Andraste, Elissa thought for a millisecond as the monster landed. They named this dragon Andraste. That's what they meant.
For the first time since she had escaped the village, Elissa thought there was a very strong chance that she would indeed die here, as she had darkly told Alistair back in Redcliffe. If this beast smelled Kolgrim's blood on her—
But it sailed overhead, circling around, landing at a distance. Elissa scanned the peak. The dragon seemed occupied, not interested in them.
You just keep your attention on whatever has it right now, she thought, panicked. Even with the addition of the direwolf, she just did not have enough allies for this fight. There would need to be an expedition later to deal with it.
She gazed ahead. A smaller cave and enclosure loomed at the end of an exposed walkway. She gulped, thinking about the dragon, but there was no choice. She gathered her energy and began to sprint across the walk.
After the challenges of combat and the darkness and ugliness of fighting reaver cultists, Elissa could tell that this was different. She approached the chamber and instantly felt a spiritual calm come over her. This was a holy place, and unlike the temple, it had not been defiled. She was startled but not exactly surprised when she reached the antechamber and faced a spirit.
"Who are you?" she blurted out.
The spirit regarded her calmly. "I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes—and I have waited years for this."
"For... this?"
"It has been my duty, my life, to protect the Urn and prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting have I been here, and shall I remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."
"The Imperium is not nearly as powerful as it once was, and it... acknowledges Andraste, in its way." She grimaced. Tevinter still practiced slavery, and she suspected that Andraste would regard that as far outweighing the fact that they now believed in the Maker. They had perverted her teachings to continue to accept the evil that she waged war against them to end.
But the spirit did not comment on this. "Ah... is that so? Then perhaps this is the beginning of the end."
"The dragon," Elissa began. "It's not Andraste, is it." It was not a question.
"No," the Guardian confirmed. "Our Andraste has gone to the Maker's side. She will not return. The dragon is a fearsome creature, and they must have seen her as an alternative to the absent Maker and His silent Andraste."
"So I thought," Leliana said quietly.
"A true believer would not require audacious displays of power."
Elissa winced, unable to even look the spirit in the eye. I am not a true believer, I suppose, she thought. But... I knew that. Or—does he not mean this about people who merely need some evidence? I don't require an audacious display. But something I can detect with my senses... wouldn't go amiss.
"When my brethren and I carried Andraste from Tevinter to this sanctuary, we vowed to forever revere her memory, and guard her," the Guardian continued. "I have watched generations of my brethren take up the mantle of their fathers. For centuries they did this, unwavering, joyful, in their appointed task. But now they have lost their way. They have forgotten Andraste, and their promise. They have forgotten that Andraste was just a messenger. They speak no more of the Maker, only of their false Andraste, an even greater sin."
"We noticed that in the village," Elissa said. "We have... pondered a lot of things about faith on this journey."
"The Ashes are really here," Leliana breathed. "They are inside the chamber. How can we see them?"
"You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall, if you prove yourself worthy."
"How do we do that?" Elissa asked.
"The Gauntlet will decide your worthiness. If you are found worthy, you will see the Urn and be allowed to take a small pinch of the Ashes for yourself. If not..." He trailed off.
Elissa shuddered, not needing an elucidation. "I quite comprehend you," she said. And how can I be considered worthy, when I don't even have the pure, true faith that Leliana does, and that Wynne might also have? My dog is probably worthier than I am. Why did I come? But she mustered her courage in spite of her terror. "So let's do this. I am ready to enter the Gauntlet."
The spirit paused. "Before you go, there is something I must ask each of you. I see that the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past—your suffering, and the suffering of others." He regarded her, Leliana, and Wynne in turn. "You abandoned your father and mother, leaving them in the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy. Do you think you failed your parents?"
Elissa felt as if the Guardian had stuck his sword into her heart. She gaped, nearly reeling, as her companions protested in outrage. "How could you—" she began before collecting herself. She drew herself up then and glared. "If I had disobeyed my parents, I would have died too. My mother made her choice and it wasn't for me to deny her that agency. I wish I could have saved them all—but I know that I couldn't have, and my death would have been in vain."
"Thank you," the spirit said. "You do not dwell on the past, then."
"Do I not?" Elissa muttered under her breath. "Perhaps I should."
But the Guardian had already turned to the others. "Leliana. Why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself her equal?"
This was a gut punch for Leliana, who had been brooding over this very subject for weeks. Did my faith that the Maker had a special message for me get my former lover and her whole family killed? She did not know, and she had wondered if she had been too arrogant. It had eaten away at her soul; the news about Anders and about Lothering had halted the progression of her budding relationship with Elissa Cousland. To have her darkest fear, her innermost demon, brought out and displayed before her friends like this...
"I never said that," she said. "I am not Andraste's equal and know this."
"In Orlais, you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself, become a drab sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative. You also loved the attention that you received for trying to help—"
She interrupted before the spirit could utter Caitlyn's name. She would tell Elissa about that relationship—she really would—but not like this. "You're saying that I made it up, or that I helped anyone for selfish reasons? I did not! I know what I believe."
The Guardian seemed to accept this answer, however. He turned next to Wynne. "You are ever the advisor, ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you spout only platitudes, burned into your mind in the distant past?"
Wynne looked just as startled as Elissa and Leliana had by their queries. She steeled herself. "There is no sense in hiding, is there? Yes. I do doubt at times. Only a fool is completely certain of himself."
The Guardian accepted this as well. "The way is open. Good luck, and may you find what you seek."
They found themselves inside a vast stone chamber. It was of an ancient style, with pillars, statuary, and urns—though obviously not the one with Andraste's remains—lining the walls. As their eyes adjusted to the dimness, Elissa noticed that near each arched pillar stood another spirit. She counted; there seemed to be eight in all.
"Stop," commanded the first one. "You must answer our questions before you may pass."
She had been taught that spirits were not necessarily trustworthy, but then... this was a holy place, she supposed. This was different. The Disciples of Andraste would not have allowed evil spirits to occupy this place. Steeling herself, she approached one of the figures as her companions drew near others.
Wynne faced a maternal, feminine spirit. "Echoes from a shadow realm, whispers of things yet to come. Thought's strange sister dwells in night, is swept away by dawning light." The spirit's voice was profoundly sorrowful. "Of what do I speak?"
Wynne did not have a particular talent for riddles, but she was a mage, at home in the Fade, and she knew this one like the back of her hand. "Dreams," she said quietly.
"Yes," said the spirit. "A dream came upon me, as my daughter slumbered beneath my heart. It told of her life, and of her betrayal and death. I am Brona, mother of Andraste. I am sorrow and regret. I am a mother weeping bitter tears for a daughter she could not save."
With that, she vanished. Wynne felt distinctly uncomfortable. She was a mother too. Her companions did not know it, but she was. The fact that the Circle had taken Rhys away from her could never change it. I lost my son. He was taken from my arms. I knew it would happen as soon as I felt him moving in my womb, and I could not save him from that fate.
Leliana faced a sweet young woman spirit. "The smallest lark could carry it, while a strong man might not. Of what do I speak?"
This was easy, and Leliana felt that it had been made for her. "A tune," she said, smiling at the thought of her lute and her songs.
"Yes. I am Ealisay, Andraste's dearest friend in childhood, and always we would sing. She celebrated the beauty of life, and all who heard her would be filled with joy. They say the Maker Himself was moved by Andraste's song, and then she sang no more of simple things."
As the spirit vanished, Leliana felt her heart darken. Were her days of being carefree behind her—and did she mourn them? Was the Guardian right about her? Who am I, the bard or the holy sister?
Elissa faced an elven spirit, who gazed seriously back at her. "I'd neither a guest nor a trespasser be; in this place I belong, that belongs also to me. Of what do I speak?"
She felt pained again. Howe had been a guest and a trespasser in her—"Home," she answered dully.
The spirit inclined his head. "I am Shartan. It was my dream for my people to have a home of their own, where we would have no masters but ourselves. We followed Andraste against the Imperium. But she was betrayed, and so were we." He disappeared in a mist.
And so was I, Elissa thought wretchedly. Highever is not my home anymore. Can it ever be again, now that I have those memories of death and carnage? I was betrayed in my home. Will I ever have a home again?
Wynne had managed to move on to another spirit, a well-dressed human man. "The bones of the world stretch towards the sky's embrace. Veiled in white, like a bride greeting her groom. Of what do I speak?"
Wynne wondered if this was a true riddle. The answer she was going to give seemed a bit too obvious, and she readied a spell within in case she had to defend herself. "The mountains?"
"Indeed. I was Havard, Disciple of Andraste. I carried Andraste's Ashes out of Tevinter into the mountains where she could gaze ever into Her Maker's sky. No more fitting a tomb than this could we find."
Wynne didn't know what to think, as he vanished. She also knew about living in the embrace of the sky—though, she supposed, so many of her fellows in the Tower knew as little of the sky as the inanimate Ashes now did. Was the Tower a tomb of sorts too?
Elissa had recovered herself enough to face a spirit who looked rather smug. "No man has seen it but all men know it," it said proudly. "Lighter than air, sharper than any sword. Comes from nothing, but will fell the strongest armies. Of what do I speak?"
This was a stumper for Elissa at first. She at first wanted to guess "disease," but something told her that that wasn't the right answer. Disease did not come from nothing, after all—it came from infection and decay. And then, the answer hit her. "Hunger," she said. Of course that was hard for me. I'm a noble. She felt vaguely ashamed.
"Yes. Hunger was the weapon used against the wicked men of the Tevinter Imperium. The Maker kindled the sun's flame, scorching the land. Their crops failed, and their armies could not march. Then He opened the heavens and bade the waters flow, and washed away their filth. I am Cathaire, disciple of Andraste and commander of her armies. I saw these things done, and knew the Maker smiled on us." He smirked, then vanished.
Elissa reflected uncomfortably on this. Andraste had marched following the First Blight, which had laid waste to Tevinter and created an opening for an army of barbarians. Could this be the Maker's punishment? And if it was... then what is this Blight? But how could the Maker do that to us? I'd rather He turned His gaze away completely than use the Blight to punish us.
She didn't know what to think. This was not what she wanted to believe.
Leliana gazed at a harsh female spirit in ancient Tevinter clothing. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth," the spirit said. "The debt of blood must be paid in full. Of what do I speak?"
A strange, dark feeling came over Leliana as the answer came to her. "Vengeance," she said quietly.
"Yes," the spirit confirmed. "I am Vasilia. My husband, Hessarian, would have chosen a quick death for Andraste. I made him swear that she would die publicly, with her war leaders, that all would know the Imperium's strength." She regarded Leliana sharply. "I am justice. I am vengeance. Blood can only be repaid in blood." With that, she disappeared.
Leliana stood, gaping. What was this spirit doing in such a holy place? Had she converted after Andraste's death, beside her husband? And if she had, why was she presenting this message? Leliana could not explain why she felt so, but she was struck with an overwhelming sense that this encounter related both to Marjolaine and to Caitlyn Hawke, though in different ways.
Marjolaine attacked me. I know I must bring justice to her. But what have justice and vengeance to do with Caitlyn? Is she dead and someone must take them for her? Or is she alive and they will feature prominently in her life?
She had no answers, just a sense of vague but dark foreboding.
Elissa knew exactly what spirit she was looking at: A tall, proud warlord in this place could have only one identity. "A poison of the soul, passion's cruel counterpart; from love she grows, till love lies slain. Of what do I speak?"
Maferath the Betrayer, Elissa thought—and that told her the answer. "Jealousy," she replied.
"Yes, jealousy drove me to betrayal. I was the greatest general of the Alamarri, but beside her I was nothing. Hundreds fell before her on bended knee. They loved her, as did the Maker. I loved her too, but what man can compare with a god?" He gazed at her, then disappeared.
Elissa was discomfited by this, and she sneaked a glance at Leliana, who was moving to the final remaining spirit in the hall. I don't feel jealous of anyone. Leliana doesn't care about Marjolaine anymore, and she has not taken a vow of celibacy to the Maker. Why was that meant for me? Is it... something that I will feel in the future, perhaps? The worry entered her heart at once, but she tried to steel herself and recall the lesson that had just been imparted to her. I will keep this in mind when I need it, then.
Leliana faced the last spirit, a lord of noble bearing. "She wields the broken sword, and separates true kings from tyrants. Of what do I speak?"
Thoughts of Mother Dorothea entered her mind unbidden—and then, as a sharp contrast, the riddle that the spirit of Vasilia had given her. That put the solution into her head. "Mercy," she said.
"Yes. I was Archon Hessarian. I could not bear the sight of Andraste's suffering, and mercy bade me end her life. I am the penitent sinner, who shows compassion as he hopes compassion will be shown to him." He gazed into Leliana's eyes, into what seemed like her very soul, before disappearing.
That is the truth, she thought, tears filling her blue eyes as emotion overcame her. The penitent sinner shown compassion. I have done my best to show it to others, to do good to try to make up for the harm I did in my earlier life. I must not dwell on what I used to be. I have to move forward on the path that the Maker has laid out for me.
She looked around, realizing that the spirits had disappeared. Their path was clear. The dog and wolf, who had not been troubled by any riddles, bounded forward to reunite with Elissa, as the three humans huddled together again, each of them struck silent with the weight of what they had just heard.
Leliana wanted to talk to Elissa about what she had experienced, but when she tugged at her sleeve, Elissa shook her head, unable to speak of it yet. All of her riddles had been dark, sad, or ominous. They had not helped her to regain her faith, and she was wondering what the point of this was. Do we have to hit rock bottom before we can begin to climb? she wondered. She hated avoiding Leliana, but she just wasn't ready to talk about this now.
Leliana seemed to understand after a second, at least.
They passed through the hall into... a chamber with a gaping pit in the center and no clear way across to the other side. There were two arcs of paving stones on each side of the circular pit, but they did not connect to the exit, leaving a massive gap that would be dangerous to attempt to jump.
Elissa frowned. There had to be a way across this. She stepped onto one of the stones at the edge and nearly gasped aloud as a ghostly section of a bridge formed, beginning to extend across the pit. It was not solid, and it did not span the whole pit, but it seemed clear that there was some sort of enchantment laid here that would cause it to form with the correct footwork.
She stifled a groan. What manner of nonsense was this? What spiritual benefit was there to this? It seemed ridiculous, and she hated that they would have to take any time to solve such a thing—
The direwolf suddenly fled her side, dashing along one arc near the pit. "No!" Elissa called out, horrified, as the animal reached the end. Her heart seemed to jump into her throat, and she could not even bear to look as the beautiful creature leaped into the air, making for the other side, the entrance to the next chamber. She covered her eyes, sure that the wolf would come up short and fall to her death in the black chasm below.
It did not happen. Instead the wolf's paws landed gracefully on the other side, making a jump that no human could. When the wolf landed, the full bridge formed by magic, solid as the rock that it was.
In the next moment, Oscar bounded across the bridge, barking joyfully, even as Elissa tried to stop him, still not trusting the bridge. She halted at the edge as the dog reached the other side. He stood by the wolf, barking, tail wagging, as the wolf joined in. Elissa stared back at the canines, thinking.
"This is not how it should have been," Leliana said, sounding distressed. "We were supposed to have solved it..."
"I worry about trusting my weight to the bridge, given that that is how it formed," Wynne added warily.
But as she gazed across at the dog and wolf, Elissa's thoughts suddenly brightened. The truth hit her like a beam of sunlight. "No," she said, smiling, "it's all right. I trust them. I don't believe that those who serve Andraste would allow this to happen, someone's loyal animal companion creating the bridge, if they meant it as a trap. Animals are better than we are. You saw that the Guardian didn't need to question what was in their souls. I... have faith." Faith in my dog, faith in... my... wolf, and faith that they understand what this place is and want us to be in Andraste's presence. She took the first brave step onto the bridge, and when it did not vanish before her feet, she burst into a smile and dashed after the dog and wolf, positively beaming when she reached the end.
My wolf, she thought, realizing it as she petted them. You came here for this moment, didn't you? You came here to show me what faith can mean, to trust my heart. The Maker sent you to me. This idea, which she could not prove for one moment but also could not doubt—this faith—filled her with joy.
What she found in the next room wiped the joy from her thoughts. She turned back sharply, but Leliana and Wynne had somehow vanished, and so had the dog and wolf.
Wynne had reluctantly crossed the bridge, her confidence growing as she stepped across—but once she reached the end, she found herself suddenly and unaccountably alone. It was as if everyone around her had disappeared. Then she saw someone new, someone she did not know—and yet also did.
"Mother."
She glanced around wildly, but she was still alone. No one had heard. Nervously she faced the person, a handsome young mage. Rhys.
"That is what you are," he said. "Does the word hurt?"
Wynne closed her eyes miserably. "I birthed you," she said quietly. "But I could not be a mother to you." She covered her face. "Why are you here? What are you? You cannot truly be Rhys."
He softened. "I am here because you needed to see me... Mother. You have regrets related to me." He gazed at her. "You tell the Grey Warden that she must do her duty, but in truth, you are telling yourself that. You have told yourself that ever since you gave birth to me, that you had to do your duty and accept your lot in life."
"I had no choice but to give you up."
"Did you not? My father was a Templar. Do you ever regret that you did not ask him to steal your phylactery while you were pregnant and run away with you? Start a family?"
Wynne closed her eyes. "Yes," she finally confessed. "There are times when I regret that I did not do that. But I was afraid. The Circle had been home to me, Rhys. It had been shelter. The Templars had never terrorized me; they were guardians and protectors. It was other people I feared, people who hated mages—who hated me. I chose safety over that terrifying unknown. I gave you up, and your father... and yes, sometimes I have regretted it. But... the life I have led since then has not been a terrible one either. I do not know what I would do if I had to make the choice again. I am sorry... my son."
But he seemed just to want her to acknowledge the fact of their relationship, and once she had, he smiled. "Your life is not nearly as close to its end as you think it is. You may meet me in the flesh before you go to the Maker. Use your time well... Mother." With that, he vanished, leaving Wynne standing alone in deep contemplation.
Leliana could not believe the sight before her. A very familiar, beautiful, red-haired mage stood before her, smiling knowingly. "Leliana," said the figure that looked exactly like Caitlyn Hawke.
"This is not you," Leliana whispered. "It cannot be. This is a vision."
"It's me, and not me," Caitlyn said. She gazed loftily at Leliana. "I am here because you have unfinished business with me."
"Are you... with the Maker? Is that how you have appeared here?"
Caitlyn smiled enigmatically. "The Maker is with everyone, I thought you believed. I am all right, and I will be all right."
"That is no answer at all," Leliana protested. "Please, I have to know. I need to know to have peace. Are you alive in this world, or with the Maker?"
Caitlyn sighed sadly. "You have to let me go, Leliana," she said. "Your time with me is over. You know this."
"Why can't you tell me?"
"Because it would do you no good," she said bluntly—oh, how blunt she always was, Leliana thought. This was just like her. "Suppose that I am with the Maker. You'll blame yourself; guilt will consume you, keep you from fighting the Blight or looking at someone else." She gazed pointedly at Leliana. "Or suppose that I am alive still. You will obsess over finding me and giving me your news from Kinloch Hold. Let's just say that would be a mistake." She gave Leliana an arch look, as if privy to something unknown to Leliana. "You have to let me go, and the only way is to accept not knowing."
"I only wanted to help you. I only wanted you to heal, to know love again."
The figure of Caitlyn softened and smiled. "I know. And you did. But you cannot help me now. You must accept that. Even if the Maker sent you a vision, even if He has a plan for you that He allowed you to glimpse, He is not giving you instructions about how to fix everyone else's life. You must let me go... and look ahead to your own future. Your path. Your new love."
Her heart thumped at Caitlyn's reference to Elissa—and she felt the truth of the figure's advice, but there was still something bothering her. "I can accept not knowing what happened to you... for now," she said, "but... not forever. You meant something to me. I cannot just forget that. Will I know someday?"
Caitlyn smiled. "You will. But it will only be when you have made peace with this part of the past." She gazed ahead. "You have to start now."
"I will," Leliana whispered hoarsely. It broke her heart, but she saw the truth in these words.
Elissa felt heaviness and yet lightness in her heart as she faced the image of her father.
"My dearest child," said Bryce Cousland. Love filled his face.
Elissa gazed back at him, swallowing a lump. "I wish it were not so, but I know that you died. If this is really you, you were sent here briefly from the Maker's side, and you won't remain."
Bryce nodded. "You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and wishes will not bring me back."
"They won't," Elissa whispered. Tears came to her eyes.
"I see the pain and anger you carry," he began.
She looked up sharply, tears suddenly streaming. "You do? Of... of course you do," she choked. "This is a spiritual place. But... I wish you hadn't. It's so dark now. I am so dark."
"You are my daughter," he said firmly. "I regret to see you suffer, but I would never judge you for this darkness, anger, and doubt. Dark things happened and you lived through them. You must carry these memories through the rest of your life, in all the confusion and uncertainty of this world. You carry a heavy burden. I know you fear to give it voice, but rest assured, my child, the Maker knows your heart."
Elissa stared silently at him, cheeks dampening.
"You can do great things," he said. "You can be a hero. You know this. You can know true love. You know that too. You must face what you have long denied yourself. You have begun to do this, but you cannot stop now."
"I know," Elissa said quietly. "I understand."
"Now go, and carry with you our love and forgiveness, pup." With that, he vanished.
All three companions suddenly realized that they could see each other again. Ahead of them, the Ashes awaited.
Notes: The riddle talk is almost direct from the game, and yeah I included all of them, but all of them seemed significant to this specific party to me.
The animal accidentally phasing across and forming the bridge that way is a glitch, but I personally find the puzzles like this tiresome and flow-breaking in gameplay, let alone a story, so I went with it instead and expanded the "faith" theme for it, in keeping with the overall theme of this chapter.
I hope nobody minds too much that Leliana did not see Marjolaine. I've got other things planned with Marjolaine later. As for Wynne, I would not think well of her if she saw an apprentice rather than her own son under these circumstances. She has unfinished business with both of them, but I prefer to think the bond of parent and child would take precedence in a spiritual reckoning even if she believes the apprentice is dead.