Exile
By Pyreite
Chapter 5 –Isle of Bones
The room beyond the eluvian disappeared in a flash of silver fire. The glass that'd been a portal into this strange new world turned obsidian-black. The way home closed as quickly as it'd opened. Solas was gone, along with Abelas, and the fortress that'd been her prison. It was like waking from a vivid nightmare.
Ellana was ashen-faced and shaking when Mahariel turned around. She didn't relax for a moment, the adrenaline running high. A hard yank on the curve of the bow below her left shoulder pulled it from the harness across her back. The plucking of an arrow from her quiver brought it flush against the bowstring. She nocked that arrow, bow at full draw when Mahariel raised his hands in surrender.
"Easy, Da'len. I'm a friend. Remember?"
He'd hardly been a friend, though he'd tried to make the best of a bad situation. He'd been kind, thoughtful, and had even smuggled her gifts during her stay with Solas. There'd been books and food, though never news from the world outside. He'd given her conversation, even amusing anecdotes but had never slipped her the key to her room.
"If you're my friend then why did you try to stop me from stepping through the eluvian?" demanded Ellana. "I'm grateful for your help at Solas' table, but I never asked you to follow me into exile".
Mahariel snorted, arching an eyebrow. "Are you going to shoot me?"
An arrow whizzed through the air in a ball of flame. He scrambled backward, swearing when it struck inches from where he'd been sitting. The ground exploded in a haze of rock, dirt, and dust that made him gag. Mahariel coughed, spitting out a mouthful of grit whilst tiny stones rained down on him. The explosion had been audible for miles around.
Ellana nocked another arrow while he cursed. "I might shoot again if you vex me. My bow is inlaid with rune-stones too. I can add a crackle of lightning to the fire if you like".
Mahariel eyed her weapon with distaste. "Of all the ancient elven bows, you had to have one designed by Elgar'nan's shitty bowyers. A weapon capable of making its targets explode then setting them aflame. Fenedhis, woman. I'd rather not spend the day picking up bits of myself from all over the place".
Ellana lifted her fingers as if to loose the second arrow. Her expression grim, the determined glint in her eye was warning enough for Mahariel. The first arrow hadn't been a fluke. She'd missed on purpose. He didn't doubt the second arrow would find its mark if he didn't answer her question.
"Why did you interfere?"
"I saw the desperation in your eyes the moment Solas mentioned the passphrase. After everything he's said and done, you believed him when he told you about the eluvian. He could've lured you into a trap, but you didn't care because he was going to let you go. Why did you believe Solas would keep his word? He's a liar".
Ellana blinked, startled. He was right of course not that she'd taken the time to think about it. She'd seen the cage door open a crack, and had bolted at the first opportunity. In hindsight, considering her tragic history with Solas. It'd been worse than risky.
It'd been foolish.
"I was his prisoner. If he was going to let me go than it was worth the risk. I wasn't about to wait for him to change his mind. Why do you care? I'm not your responsibility".
Mahariel ceased to brush dirt from his face and shoulders. He gaped at her, green eyes wide with incredulity. He couldn't believe her audacity. After almost three decades together she dared to write him off as if he'd been nothing but Solas' lackey. He was dirty, dishevelled, and downright furious.
"You ungrateful shrew! I kept you safe for thirty years in that cesspit! If Solas wasn't drooling over you! His lackwit dicks in steel were! Do you want to know how many of his followers lusted after you?"
Ellana remembered their journey to Solas' private wing. The winding corridors, the endless sea of grey. The dais with an eluvian flanked by statues of wolves with ruby eyes. The guards stationed at that first checkpoint. The way they'd looked at her with fear, respect, and envy.
"I know", she replied. "Which is why, I'm never going back".
Mahariel recoiled, raising his arms to shield his face. He saw the dread tempered by determination in her eyes. He was afraid when Ellana turned, pivoting on the balls of her feet. She took aim and loosed. The arrow struck the inactive eluvian.
It exploded in a ball of fire. The archway cracked in two, crumbling. The mirror housed inside its stony frame shattered. Shards of black glass rained down on them in a deluge of flame. The eluvian was gone in an instant.
Ellana plucked the lax bowstring, nodding when it twanged as if it were strung on a lute. That single note was high and sweet as if she could strum a song. Mahariel supposed she had when she holstered the bow. It lay across her back again, that deadly arc rising above her left shoulder. Mahariel wondered if she would retrieve her knives.
She regarded him as cat might a mouse hiding in the grass. He flinched when she crept towards him, the toes of her boots skimming the detritus. She stepped over scorched pebbles, singed grass, and shards of half-melted glass. He tensed when her knees bent, expecting a blow to the face. She crouched down before him till they were eye to eye, the silver curtain of her hair gleaming in the sun.
Mahariel wondered if she'd make demands. Ellana offered him her gloved hand instead. Her expression was contrite when she apologised. It rolled off her tongue, heavy with regret. Mahariel stared at the fingers and thumb of her right hand, the archer's glove an oily black.
"Am I supposed to forget that you damned near blew my balls off?"
She'd loosed an arrow at him, quick as the flap of a butterfly's wing.
"Ir abelas", repeated Ellana when he hesitated to accept her apology. "Oh, Mahariel". She leaned forward, brushing a tendril of hair back from his forehead. She tucked it behind the pointed tip of his ear. "Would you feel better if I kissed you instead?"
He arched his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth curving upward. He was feeling a little less wary after that conciliatory offer. "I could with a little motivation". He pursed his lips, tipping his head back – eyes closing. He screeched with disappointment when Ellana's lips brushed his forehead instead.
"That's not a kiss!" His eyes opened beneath furrowed brows. He scowled when she glided out of reach. "Come back here! I demand adequate compensation for the fright you gave me!"
Ellana straightened, smirking. "I gave you a kiss".
Mahariel tapped two dusty fingers to his forehead. "You call that adequate?"
"It'll have to do for now. If you don't mind, I'd like to see what's in the satchels Abelas threw at you. I'm hoping for basic provisions, though it'd be a miracle if he was that thoughtful. He's never liked me. So why would he so kind as to outfit me for an arduous journey abroad?"
They emptied the satchels, spreading the contents atop a large flat stone. Abelas had packed a great deal into the two small leather bags. One was for Ellana, the other for Mahariel. Her satchel had pockets great and small, each housing a variety of accoutrements. Abelas had anticipated her needs better than she'd thought possible.
Ellana found lock picks fashioned from silverite, dragon bone, and volcanic aurum. A variety of dried herbs, seed-pods, and flowers from traditional Thedosian medicinal plants. A collection of screws, bolts, cogs, and coils of wire. A length of handmade rope, a few bars of soap, and a spindle of yarn. Several small bottles full of liquid turned out to be healing and stamina potions.
Ellana was glad not to find a distillation of lyrium.
She'd also acquired a cloak of shimmery grey-green fabric that changed colour in the light. And an array of clean undergarments in various colours. She reddened on finding a lacy green breastband with matching knickers. Mahariel was fond of it, though the black pair trimmed in silver made him blush. Ellana smacked his hand when she caught him fingering the silky material.
"Hands off!"
"But it feels nice!" protested Mahariel. "I like the material!"
"I don't care!" snapped Ellana. "Go fondle your own knickers!"
"I would if I had any, alas Abelas failed to provide. The uptight prick. I'll have to make do with yours".
"Not today you won't".
Mahariel pouted when she packed them back into her satchel. He'd been enjoying himself at her expense. Ellana was glad that the rest of her underthings were a boring modest white. Mahariel wasn't the least bit interested in those. He liked bold colours and bolder combinations.
The pervert.
Now he was eyeing her spare breeches, shirt, and a rather revealing tasselled elven skirt.
"Don't touch!"
"But I should check for loose threads".
"No!"
"Aw".
Ellana sorted through what remained. She was grateful for the brace of throwing knives. The pair of utility knives. The small book, inkwell, and quill. It was more than she'd expected, though Abelas hadn't been as generous for Mahariel.
He had a matching cloak, but no extra clothing or undergarments. There were no spare shirts, breeches, or even a single knife. His satchel contained dried herbs, potion bottles, and lengths of coiled bowstring. Ellana also found food wrapped in waxy green leaves. Small cakes of baked elvish bread, jerky, nuts, and dried fruit.
It was simple fare, but enough to tide them over for a few days. She was glad for the matching pair of water skins. The spare clothes and gear would come in handy too. Abelas wasn't a stingy old fart after all. He was still an ancient elven twat like Solas.
"Maker's balls", swore Ellana. "Most of this is for me. Weapons, tools, clothes, food, and water. Abelas spared you a cloak, but nothing else. I don't know if that's practical or a demonstration of how much he disliked you".
Mahariel snorted, rolling his eyes. "Likely both. Not that I need clothes, food, or water. I'm a spirit. I don't need to eat, drink, or sleep".
"Like Cole".
"Don't compare me to that bleeding heart. I don't poke around inside peoples' heads to find their hurts. I don't make them forget about their worst memories to bring them comfort. I'm not a healer, Ellana. I break things".
She stared at him, saying nothing till the silence turned awkward. Mahariel fidgeted, twiddling his thumbs. He was tense and quiet, eyes dropping to his knees as if in shame. He was afraid to look at her, lest he find judgement in the lines of her fair elven face.
"Mahariel".
"That's not my name. I borrowed his face and form to infiltrate Solas' base of operations. I'm not the Hero of Fereldan. You'd be wise to acknowledge that now. I'm no more a Dalish elf in name or nature than Solas was an apostate hobo wandering Thedas alone".
Ellana studied him for several moments, fascinated by the square line of his jaw. The arch of his brows, the curve in the lobe of his ear. He was a Dalish lad with a straight nose, sharp cheekbones, and an unwavering stubbornness. He still refused to look her in the eye, proud even under the layers of soot and grime. Ellana wiped away a line of dirt from one cheek to reveal the scar under his right eye.
It was old and deep, yet faded and softened with age. His face was bare of vallaslin. She doubted it was courtesy of Solas. The Mahariel she'd known had never allowed anyone to touch him. She supposed it was a privilege though she didn't understand why.
A spirit in the shape of an elf or a spy that could emulate the living. He was something of a mystery even after all the years she'd known him. She wondered what'd happened to the real Dalish warden of the Fifth Blight. Theron Mahariel had never married, though he'd sired a child upon a witch. A boy Ellana remembered meeting alongside his mother in Skyhold's garden.
"Fen'Harel is it", she called. "Cole was a spirit of compassion. A kind soul that soothed pain, easing fears without expectation of gratitude. He helped others to help himself, to fulfil his purpose. If you aren't like him than what are you?"
Fen'Harel exhaled a wary breath. "A prisoner shackled to a purpose not of my own choosing. A being lost in melancholy, forever wishing the past wasn't set in stone. A lonely soul desirous of companionship, but never able to find agreeable company. A vagrant wolf without a pack or family of my own".
"That's quite the list of emotional baggage".
"You've got plenty of your own too".
"I do", agreed Ellana. "Solas made an impression on me, for all the wrong reasons".
What he'd admitted sounded like a secret someone would confide in a friend. Fen'Harel had a perturbing sense of trust in her, though Ellana thought it misplaced. She was a rogue, a thief, and an assassin. A shadow by nature, a burglar by trade, and a killer for hire. She was hardly esteemed company, though she'd rubbed shoulders with an Empress, a Duke, and a King.
If Fen'Harel had secrets, than she would let him keep them.
"That will do", she avowed with an emphatic nod. "I know what you are. I don't fully understand what that means, but I'm glad you've told me. It's a refreshing change after everything that went wrong with Solas. It won't be easy for you to earn my trust, but you've made a good start".
Fen'Harel groaned in relief, shoulders sagging. He peered at her through the veil of his lashes still unsure of himself. It was sweet, even tragic when he frowned in bewilderment. He'd expected an interrogation. Ellana laughed when his eyes narrowed, the unhappy jut of his lower-lip made her smile.
"Aren't you even a little curious about me?"
"Well", said Ellana, her gaze settling on the belt around his waist. Her eyes slid further south to the junction of his thighs. She leered at the padded codpiece in the crotch of his breeches. "You did promise to show me how much like an elf you are", she reminded him. "Seeing is believing after all. Do you think now would be a good time?"
"I'll be keeping my breeches on. Sorry".
"If you won't indulge my curiosity, then I want my knives back".
"You have a bow, a quiver full of arrows, and a brace of throwing knives!" growled Fen'Harel.
"So?"
He gave her a hard look. "I'm unarmed. I need a way to defend myself".
"Use a stick".
Fen'Harel took immediate offence. He was confident in his abilities, but he didn't want to frighten Ellana. He had experience aplenty on the battlefield, though carnage was far from finesse. He wasn't picky when it came to dispatching an enemy. The quickest most efficient way was rather gory.
"You can't be serious".
"I'm quite serious. Now give back what's mine".
Ellana reached over, tugging at the buckle of his belt. She didn't stop when Fen'Harel slapped her knuckles. A firm tug on the prong and she almost tore it from a leather notch. He had to grab her wrists to keep her from stealing his belt (and his dignity). An elf in disguise or not he was still attracted to her like a red-blooded elven man.
"Venavis!" he demanded, the crotch of his breeches tightening. "I'm having difficulty here! Will you stop fondling me! Damn it, Ellana! Hands off!"
"So you have a prick. It's got a mind of its own. Hand over my knives".
Fen'Harel was annoyed by her forwardness. "Creators, woman! Have you no sense of propriety? I can't concentrate while you're trying to climb into my lap! If you won't kiss me than at least have the decency to-Mmmmph!"
She silenced him with a kiss. He was too distracted by her warm wet mouth to protest when Ellana unbuckled his belt. She bit his lip, deepening the kiss as she slipped it off. She broke away too soon for him to respond, with his belt in hand. She was quick to remove the sheaths of her knives.
She tossed the belt back at him, rising to her feet without an apology.
Dazed but dreamy, Fen'Harel wiped his mouth with a grin until he spied Ellana undoing her own belt. He thought she might be eager for a little love-play, but he was disappointed. Ellana was too pragmatic, threading her belt through the loops on each sheath. She reclaimed her daggers with a relieved smile, returning the belt to her waist. She buckled it in place, twisting left than right to test the added weight of her reacquired weapons.
"You dirty underhanded thief!" accused Fen'Harel, even though he wasn't that upset. He'd rather enjoyed himself. "Now what am I supposed to do? I can't go around unarmed! We're not in Thedas any more!"
Ellana clucked her tongue. "Don't be sour. You asked me to kiss you. So I did. Besides, I have a gift for you".
That got his attention, though he was wary. He hoped it wasn't a knife in the kidneys. "What kind of gift?"
"You wanted a weapon. I have two for you".
Fen'Harel's brows furrowed. He nodded, curious when Ellana's hands went to the small of her back. She wriggled, grimacing as if in discomfort. Then with a delicate twist of her wrist she pulled a gilded leather sheath out from under her gambeson. Fen'Harel stared, eyes bulging when she tossed it to him.
It sailed through the air, near clipping him in the temple before his hands shot out to catch it.
"Fenedhis! A little warning would've been nice!"
"Stop complaining", scolded Ellana. "You wanted a weapon. You've got one. I thought you'd be pleased".
He gaped when her hands went to the front of her gambeson. She undid the first two ties to expose the padded shirt underneath. The collar that should've laced-up to her throat was open wide. He could see into the valley of her breasts. He blushed to the tips of his ears when Ellana put her right hand into her cleavage.
She fished about like a seasoned angler, scowling in concentration.
Her brazenness flustered Fen'Harel. He wanted to address the issue at hand without sounding like a boy barely passed his first century. Ellana proved shameless in her explorations. She pushed here and pulled there, bosom wobbling like a mound of custard. She didn't care that he could see her cleavage rise and fall with each breath she took.
It got to be a little too mortifying when she stuck her tongue between her teeth.
"Fenedhis!" he cursed. "What could you be rummaging around for in there?"
Ellana froze, hand stuck between her tits. It was obscene even if she did have an appreciative red-faced spectator. Fen'Harel was trying and failing not to stare. He ducked his head, cheeks flaming when she arched a silver brow. His pride took a battering when she yanked out a second gilded sheath.
It was longer and thinner than the first, but had the same gold accents.
"How in the the world did you fit that down your top?" cried Fen'Harel in astonishment. He was quite impressed. It looked as long as Ellana's forearm. He was certain the gap between her breasts couldn't have been more than an inch across. Her shirt and gambeson were tight enough to resemble a corset.
He was sure the fit was snug, not that he'd had the privilege of finding out.
"Magic", replied Ellana, tossing it to him one-handed. "Every lass knows that the safest place to keep things is inside her breastband. I used to carry my coin-purse in there too. Less chance of a pickpocket cutting it off my belt. I've never been robbed at a village market, not that most shems would risk trading with an elf".
"Not even the Herald of Andraste?"
Ellana snorted. "Just because they'd show deference to my face. Doesn't mean they didn't call me a knife-ear when behind my back. Shems can be prats. Elves too if Solas is anything to go by".
Although usually dexterous, Fen'Harel fumbled missing it by a mile. The sheath slipped through his fingers to land in his lap. The pointy gilded end of it jabbing him in the kidney. He was glad that it hadn't poked him somewhere more sensitive. He pouted when Ellana retied her gambeson, putting away her cleavage with two firm tugs.
"You have magnificent tits", he declared. "If you ever feel like bringing them out again. I'd very much like a personal introduction".
Ellana snorted, unimpressed by the suggestion. She shot him down with a stern rebuttal. "Not on your life".
"Why ever not?"
"Do you want a knife in your balls?"
"Not especially".
"Then forget about climbing into my breastband. I'm not a courtesan. If you want someone to shag. You'll have to make do with your hand. I know better than to get involved with someone employed by Solas".
That got Fen'Harel's hackles up. "I'm not his agent!"
"Liar", accused Ellana. "You worked with him for the entirety of my imprisonment".
She had him there. Fen'Harel couldn't refute her statement. He had been her gaoler for the twenty-seven years she'd been under lock and key. He didn't like the way she looked down her nose at him as if he were a snitch. He had of course been exactly that as per his agreement with Solas, not that he'd deign to admit it.
"It was a beneficial arrangement!"
"So you were shagging him", guessed Ellana. "I'd wondered".
"Why would you even think that?" exclaimed Fen'Harel in disgust. "He's my brother! Fenedhis! I'd never! Ugh!"
Ellana shrugged, unfazed by his reaction. "At least you're thinking about it. I haven't been shagged in a hundred years". She squinted, counting a handful of years on her fingers. "A hundred and twenty-seven years, counting the time Solas had me locked up".
"Is that all you thought about?"
"Most of the time, I fantasized about Solas' demise. It was rather grisly, not that I ever managed it. He wasn't stupid enough to let me near him with anything sharper than a bar of soap. But if I can hurl a knife in a straight line for a good twenty feet. Why not something larger, lighter, and a whole lot cleaner?"
She grinned with a flash of white teeth. "He dropped like a stone. He was too dazed to realise what'd happened until he heard me cackling like a loon. He sat up, glowering when he saw the tears on my cheeks. He had a big old red mark on his forehead too".
"It must've been quite the sight", complained Fen'Harel. "You sadist. Soap is for bathing, not throwing. What a waste of a handmade commodity. You should've shivved him instead".
"I tried several times, once with a rusty nail. Abelas tackled me before I could stab Solas with it. He ruined all my successive assassination attempts too". She waved a gloved hand at him. "Aren't you going to thank me?"
"For what?" he hissed, still upset that she'd thought him Solas' stooge and bedmate.
"I gave you a rather nice present. Aren't they pretty?"
Ellana gestured to the gilded sheaths in his lap. Each was of a similar design, though both were of differing widths and lengths. The first was long, wide, and made of tooled leather trimmed in gold filigree. A series of swirling leaves, vines, and flowers had been cut into the sheath. The veins of the leaves, the twisting vines, and the creases in the flower petals were accented in gold.
The second sheath had lavish decoration too. Fen'Harel saw the same riotous celebration of spring in the tooled leather. Leaves, vines, and flowers with delicate gold stamen. The pattern was exquisite. He knew it'd been crafted by an expert hand, there was a love of green growing things in the design.
It was very Dalish.
Fen'Harel ran a finger over the gold clasps at the upper end of the larger sheath. He found a steel guard, a long horn and brass-banded hilt, and a pommel that opened like a flowerbud. There was a peculiar veining in the horn that was pearly-white tinged with silver. Only halla antler had a pearlescent gleam when carved and polished.
The second sheath though shorter, lighter, and thinner contained a similar weapon. It had the same guard, hilt, and pommel. Fen'Harel grasped the hilt, drawing it free. It slid out of the sheath in a whisper of velvet. The blade was a length of silverite with an inlay of golden volcanic aurum that glittered in the sun.
It was beautiful.
A runestone was set into the guard. It was the size of a robin's egg, though it glinted with the yellow-gold of a topaz. He tapped it with the tip of a finger, hissing when it crackled. The hairs on the back of his hand stood on-end. It was a lightning rune, a rarity in modern day weaponry.
There were few dwarves left in Thedas with the knowledge and skill to craft them.
He knew then with sudden clarity that Ellana had given him a matched pair. He didn't need to draw the blade from the larger sheath to know it was a replica of its smaller twin. Two dalish blades decorated with considerable care. Fen'Harel realised then with a sinking feeling in his gut that both blades were a betrothal gift. It was a Dalish tradition for a woman engaged to a warrior of another clan to be given a wedding present.
"These were made for you", he said aloud, certain that he was right.
"A gift from my betrothed", confirmed Ellana. "A Dalish hunter from Clan Sabrae that'd joined the Inquisition. He grew enamoured of me in the years after Cassandra's ascension to the Sunburst Throne. We became friends when he apprenticed to my runesmith – Dagna. He made these blades with her help, each a masterwork of dwarven and Dalish craftsmanship".
Fen'Harel exhaled a shuddering breath. The blade was decorated with gold filigree. The same pattern of leaves, vines, and flowers interwoven across its length. He saw the love in the vein of every leaf, the curling twist of every vine. Even the flowers were intricate enough to seem alive.
He couldn't help the twinge of jealousy that took root in the pit of his gut. He'd been bonded to Ellana long before this Dalish upstart. He wanted to fling the weapons into the singed pothole Ellana had blasted into the ground. He would've buried them there under a pile of dirt like a dog if he hadn't been in such need. Ellana had reclaimed the last of her own weapons, bequeathing these to him instead.
Fen'Harel was upset for a handful of moments. Then he thought about how she'd smuggled them out of Solas' fortress. One blade at her back, whilst the other was inside her cleavage. He grimaced, rolling his eyes when he saw the look on her face. Ellana smirked with the smugness of sticky-fingered thief.
She'd duped him.
"You silver-tongued shrew", he accused. "You lied to me. These blasted blades aren't a betrothal gift. You stole them".
Ellana laughed. "Of course I did. How else was I supposed to get them out from under Solas' nose? I was never allowed to carry weapons in his presence. That included any implement sharp enough to stab him with".
"So you picked someone's pocket while we were making our way to him".
She nodded. "More or less".
"Whose?"
"Abelas, of course. There's a reason he doesn't like me".
Fen'Harel didn't believe her one bit. He knew how careful that sentinel prick was around Solas. It was inconceivable that Ellana could've robbed him. Abelas was too seasoned a warrior not to notice something missing from his belt. The weight change alone would've alerted him to any kind of foul play.
"Horseshit".
Ellana grinned, waggling her eyebrows. "I never said I stole them today. Call it a historical theft. I had to do something while Solas had me under lock and key. Boredom makes idle hands, which is never good for a master locksmith".
Fen'Harel smiled, his cheeks dimpling. "Was that before or after Solas started warding your room?"
"After".
"You little, sneak".
The nonchalant shrug of Ellana's shoulders made him chuckle. "Abelas abhors thieves, not that he could ever prove I was one. Solas knew of course. He even delighted in the pranks I played until Abelas complained once too often. That's when that grey-eyed prat started warding my room".
"And he assigned you a personal guard".
"That too".
"I'd best keep you entertained then".
"That'd be wise. I can get up to an awful lot of trouble on my own".
Fen'Harel sheathed the smallest of the blades she'd given to him. He took great delight in threading them onto his belt. The largest and longest sheath he put on the right. The smaller on the left. He rolled to his feet soon after, wrapping the belt back around his waist again.
He buckled it in place, giving Ellana a grateful smile. "Ma serannas".
"Don't thank me, thank Abelas", she teased. "He's the one that commissioned those blades from a dwarven smith. It's fine quality, but nowhere near as good as what Dagna made for me. We should pack up our gear. I'd like to do some scouting before dusk".
Ellana made him carry their satchels, though it was a trivial task. He got thumped on the back as he ascended after her, the leather creaking as the wind picked up. It was cold enough to warrant wearing a cloak, though Ellana hadn't felt the chill. She was breathing hard as they crested the top of the hill. The stairs cut into the rock were steep but sturdy after years of wear and tear.
It was a hard climb up the spiral track in what was left of a Keep with crumbling walls. The bricks were strewn about them in mounds of rubble. The stairs led to what'd once been a watchtower in the eastern end of a curtain wall. There were no rotted wooden boards, just the petrified stumps of splintered posts. Fen'Harel spied them sunk into the ground at regular intervals, remnants of a fence or a wall.
It wouldn't have been so eerie if not for the piles of bleached bones. The wind whistled through the broken bricks, carrying the scent of salt inland. The sea thundered as it coursed through granite spires eroded by water, wind and sand. Whitewashed waves crashed onto the beach far below, churning the surf to froth. Ellana had suggested that they go fishing, though Fen'Harel wasn't eager to let her swim out into the strait.
Their little island lay between two juts of rock in the middle of an ocean. The ancient wards concealing it from the world outside were still active. Amaevhen's enchantments were as potent as the day she'd cast them. The foremother of the elves had a bastion on every world she'd visited since time immemorial. Fen'Harel suspected that she hadn't been to this particular world in several millennia.
The guards she'd left behind were quite dead. Their bones as petrified as the wooden posts of the Keep they'd built in her honour. He skirted the edge of the rubble, squatting down beside a heap of sand. He brushed it away to reveal a plethora of skulls as round and white as a string of pearls. The eye-sockets were larger than that of a human skull, the cheekbones higher and sharper.
He could tell they were elven skulls even if the nearest had a missing jawbone. The upper mandible had most of its teeth, though some had fallen out. Fen'Harel wasn't bothered by the hallmarks of death as he sifted through the sediment. He found several vertebrae, bits of a shoulder, finger-bones, and a mess of broken fragments. Few of the bones were whole, some had what resembled grooves cut into them.
It didn't take Ellana long to join him. Her shadow crept across the ground silent as a spider. She blocked out the sun when she leaned over him. He passed her what was left of a shin bone snapped in two. The break was clean, though the concave hollow inside was far from reassuring. The marrow was gone, sucked out by something with jaws like a guillotine.
"Maker's arse", swore Ellana. "There's gnaw marks. I've seen the like with halla carcasses taken by wolves, but never on elven bones. Whatever did this either killed and devoured him. Or something else dug into his corpse after he died".
"Scavenging?" asked Fen'Harel.
"It's possible, but I doubt it". Ellana gestured to the rest of the skulls in the sand. "I could see one or two corpses being disturbed after burial. But there's got to be the remains of at least ten to twenty people here. That means they either died all together or one after another in quick succession".
"I concur, but whatever killed them did so centuries ago. The watchtower lies in ruins. The wooden posts in the ground are petrified not rotted. This was a killing field not a graveyard. These people were slain and butchered not buried".
Ellana handed the bone back rather than tossing it aside. The Dalish had always respected the dead. Ellana was no exception. She murmured an elvish prayer, wishing the deceased a peaceful afterlife. Fen'Harel placed the shin bone back where he'd found it.
"I'd build a cairn for them, but I'd rather not linger in this place. These poor saps were slaughtered like cattle. We should go before whatever killed them finds us", advised Ellana. "It'll be dusk in a few hours. If I can't have a roof over my head, I'll feel safer inside a warded circle with a fire at my feet".
Fen'Harel didn't protest when she tapped his shoulder. He rose from the ground, knees straightening when Ellana urged him to follow. He'd come to keep her company, to make sure that she was safe. He could sense something stirring in the caverns below them that opened out into the sea. The cliff-side was hollow, though the eastern watchtower had stood on bedrock.
He didn't warn Ellana when she walked across the landing. She reached the stairs without incident, a relief when he considered the night ahead of them. He suspected something would come prowling at moonrise. It would know that they'd been there after sniffing about like a hound. Ellana's scent would cling to everything she'd touched. Each of the steps that wound about the hillside, a brick here, a stone there.
A shin bone lying white as snow in the sun, in a nest of elven skulls.
He needed to get her settled for the night. A camp near the eluvian she'd destroyed with the twang of her bowstring. Ellana's weapons would be useless against something she couldn't see, hear, or smell. Fen'Harel took note of the creature's handiwork in the old rust-red stains on the flagstones. The gnawed bones of its victims were scattered like refuse, a grizzly reminder of the past.
It'd die before it had a chance to touch Ellana.
"Fen'Harel!"
"I'm coming, woman", he griped. "Keep your knickers on".
Dusk rolled in an hour after they reached camp. The light was fading, navy streaking the once pale blue sky. They'd been scouting for most of the day, lost in their exploration of the island. A forest stretched from the shoreline inland along a ridge of mountains. There was a creek near their camp, a source of fresh water though it was ice cold.
The animals were familiar, the trees too, though the plants were strange. There were squirrels, robins, wood pigeons, and grouse. They'd seen deer lurking in the trees though they weren't halla. The deer were brown like the earth, with racks of antlers like leafless twigs. They weren't white nor did they have horns carved into intricate shapes by Dalish hands.
Ellana had hoped to find something from home during their foray into the wilds. Fen'Harel had seen her gaze at the tracks of cloven hooves with dew claws sunk into the dirt. But the deer that'd made them were smaller than halla, their hooves as dainty as their spindle-thin legs. Ellana had hid her disappointment behind a mask of stony indifference. She sat beside the fire now, stirring its embers with a stick as he cast the last of the wards.
Glyphs covered the ground in a circle of shining gold, sparking here and there with elven runes. It was more elaborate than Ellana had wanted, but Fen'Harel knew the dangers of the night better than she did. She didn't know this kind of magic, it was older than the Elvhen – a gift taught by Amaevhen to her first children. The spirits of Thedas. Fen'Harel remembered her lessons well.
He prowled outside the ring of protective wards. He refused to risk Ellana to the thing rousing in the dark. He would wait and watch as the moon rose, whether for mere moments or hours until dawn. Time was of little consequence. All that mattered was keeping Ellana safe.
She'd donned her cloak to shield against the night's chill. Her head and shoulders were concealed by the cowl pulled low over her face. He saw the glint of her eyes in the firelight. Flecks of green glistened jewel-like in flashes of red and orange. She was lovely even now, tense with apprehension. She could sense the danger too.
The eluvian they'd come through was a lump of pulverised stone and shattered glass. The debris had been swept clear, leaving behind yellow tiles crusted with lichen. A road that'd led to a trading post on the eastern side of the island. The ruined watchtower they'd found had been part of a Keep with a garrison of soldiers. Fen'Harel was unsure if there'd been priests, servants, and slaves posted there too.
Only dried blood-stains and desiccated bones remained.
Ellana had been uneasy since they'd returned. Fen'Harel didn't blame her for being anxious after what they'd found in the rubble. The number of skulls in the sand, along with their myriad broken bones had suggested one thing. Everyone that'd lived there had died a swift violent death. They'd been slain by something with sharp fangs and sharper claws.
"Do you think it'll come?" called Ellana in the gloom, her voice tinged with the fear of things that moved in the shadows.
"It's bound too after a few centuries without fresh meat", replied Fen'Harel. "It'll be hungry. So no matter what you see or hear. Promise me that you'll stay inside the wards. That you won't put a toe outside that circle until the sun rises".
"What if you need my help?"
Fen'Harel snorted as if she'd said something amusing. "I won't though I appreciate the thought. Promise me". He found her reluctance frustrating in the silence that followed. She said nothing at first, too stubborn to yield until she offered him a compromise.
"I reserve the right to shoot anything that isn't you with my bow".
"If you shoot from inside the circle. Are we agreed?"
She capitulated, albeit grudgingly. "Fine. I'll stay put, but I'm fighting too".
Fen'Harel smiled. "I'm grateful, da'len. You're a feisty one, but this will be a long night for us both. The creature that killed the islanders is dangerous. It could have friends, and we are but two elves not an army".
Ellana was a less inclined to leave the safety of the wards after that. "The folk garrisoned at the watchtower didn't slow it down. There were at least twenty skulls in the rubble. Their bones gnawed upon then cracked open for the marrow inside. It gorged itself on their flesh".
Fen'Harel didn't like the grimness of her thoughts. "Don't fret over the dead, Ellana. It's long passed time anyone could've saved them. Think of yourself, of the coming dawn. Keep your promise and stay inside the circle".
He was glad when she didn't argue. The edge of her cloak lifted when she crossed her legs, revealing the arc of the bow in her lap. The white-fletched tails of her arrows were visible over her right shoulder. She'd heeded Cole's warning, staying vigilant as she added fuel to the fire. A few sticks gathered from the surrounding woodland were alight in a matter of moments.
They settled in for a long, dark, and deadly night.
Ellana dozed off a few hours after a meal of jerky, dried fruit, and a handful of nuts. The fire had burned to ash. She was wrapped inside her cloak, head pillowed on a satchel. Fen'Harel was glad that she slept when the moon reached its zenith. It was a silver disc in an ebony sky when the creature found them.
Fen'Harel sensed it long before it took corporeal form. It was like a wraith as it drifted through the cool night air, lighter than smoke but invisible to the eye. He waited, curious when it approached the edge of their camp. It circled at first with a wariness that was typical of a hunter seeking unfamiliar prey. It came within feet of Ellana, the sound of her slumbering breaths an irresistible lure.
A clawed hand coalesced, along with a pale wrist. A forearm followed, a bony elbow then lean shoulders. The curve of the back came next, the knobs of its spine visible through a layer of translucent skin. There was little muscle on its wiry frame, even less fat between broad hips and long twig-like legs. It was barefoot and clad in tattered cloth that hung like moss from spindly limbs.
Fen'Harel saw a walking skeleton with a gaunt face. Its cheeks were hollow, the line of its jaw hard and sharp beneath the thinness of its skin. Mad black eyes glittered inside its sunken eye-sockets. A flat bat-like nose sniffed the air, nostrils flaring with each inhale. The planes of its skull protruded like the bones of its ribcage.
The pointed ears beneath tendrils of filthy hair intrigued Fen'Harel. The poor wretch appeared emaciated, even starving though it was very much alive. It might have been an elf if not for the foot long claws extending from each of its bony fingertips. The thin lips, peeled back to reveal a mouth full of jagged teeth was more demonic than elven. Fen'Harel heard the wet smack of its chops, the raspy slide of a tongue between adamant fangs.
It'd found Ellana a tempting morsel. She was asleep, unconscious, and thus easy prey.
It would've been a simple task to kill and devour her if not for the gleaming circle of magic. She slept at its centre, beside a pit of hot embers glowing yellow-red in the moonlight. The beast could see and smell her, though it hadn't yet found a way to reach her. A pale ivory claw prodded the air, activating the outermost ward in a burst of flame. An inhuman shriek roused Ellana, the stench of scorched flesh filling her nose.
She rolled onto her knees, left hand sliding to the grip of her bow. Eyes still bleary from sleep, the fingers of her right hand moved on instinct. She reached over her right shoulder to pluck an arrow from the quiver across her back. It was nocked, the bow at full draw when she tucked a thumb against her cheek. She turned, aiming in the dark – the head of her arrow catching fire.
She gaped at the skeletal creature illuminated in the light of the wards. The shadows of sleep evaporated the instant it howled in agonised fury. It clutched the bloodied stump of its forearm, fangs gnashing when it saw that she was awake. Ellana thought it was a darkspawn until it vanished like fog in the wind. She stared at the place where it'd been, her eyes widening in alarm.
"Andraste's tits!" she cried, aghast. "That's why the garrison at the watchtower were slaughtered! The bastard can disappear at will! It ambushed them in the night! How could they kill what they couldn't see?"
She was unnerved when she heard scratching in the dark. She tipped her arrow downwards, its fiery tip shedding light like a lantern. She recoiled when she saw a pale hand with long sharp claws on the ground. Its bloodied wrist severed, the wound seeping despite a ring of singed flesh around the bone. The fingers flapped like the tail of a landed fish, the claws scrabbling against the pavement.
"Fenedhis!" swore Ellana. "No darkspawn can do that!"
She shook her head, lowering her arrow. The bowstring slackened, the fire on the arrowhead extinguishing. The night returned, though the wards held. Ellana didn't doubt for a second that Fen'Harel's protective enchantments had saved her life. She got to her feet, wrist turning above her right shoulder.
She returned the arrow to her quiver. A twist of her left hand and she holstered the bow too. It was heavy across her back, a familiar weight that was as useful as a dead horse. How could she shoot what she couldn't see? Ellana palmed a dagger from the brace strapped to her outer thigh.
"You're not the only one that can hide".
She turned on the balls of her feet, slipping into that space between light and darkness. She vanished from sight. She heard the beast's startled roar on her left. A flick of her fingers sent the dagger flying. It landed with a meaty thunk, shearing through skin and flesh into bone.
The beast squealed like a stuck pig. Ellana heard it stumble like a drunken sailor, its clawed feet sliding as it overbalanced. The wards reactivated, cleaving the creature in two in a blaze of red. It hit the ground twice with a wet thunk, screeching as it writhed in torment. Its guts spilled in a gush of stinking wetness.
Ellana took advantage, flinging a spell.
The seeping tangle of gore and viscera ignited in tongues of emerald flame. Veilfire swept over that bloody trail as if it were lamp oil. The beast wailed, high and shrill as it was consumed by the magical conflagration. Bile crawled up Ellana's throat when the two halves of its body thrashed. Its legs kicked, its arms flailed, and its bony skull jerked on a reedy neck like a dying bird.
Her mouth was full of foul spittle, taste-buds tingling on the back of her tongue. Her stomach churned when Fen'Harel stepped into the firelight. The irises of his eyes, the planes of his face, and the strands of his hair shone an eerie green. Ellana thought he was a figurine cast in bronze until his knees bent. He crouched beside the floundering beast, reaching into the flames consuming its barehanded.
He didn't fear the heat when his fingers curled around its chin. He turned its head, leaning forward so he could stare into its anguished black eyes. Ellana was unnerved when his lips peeled back from his fangs. He snarled at the beast with such ferocity that she doubled over the instant he wrenched its neck. She retched when she heard its bones crack, sinew tearing as it took one last rattling gasp.
She wiped the back of a gloved hand across her mouth. It was a miracle that she'd missed her boots. She stepped back, nose wrinkling in disgust at the smell. She'd seen and done plenty of terrible things that'd never made her queasy. One night in a foreign world, hunted by a monster she'd never encountered before had changed things.
"Da'len".
Ellana recoiled at the sound of Fen'Harel's voice, shying like a skittish horse. She looked up with sudden nervousness to check where he was. She was relieved to find him still at the creature's side. He hadn't budged an inch, even as it shuddered in its final death throes. The veilfire licked over its skin as if it were dry kindling.
"Y-Yes?" stammered Ellana.
"You did well in choosing that spell", praised Fen'Harel. "Some are immune to ordinary flame, even molten heat but they're all vulnerable to veilfire. It's one of the few spells that can incinerate their corpses before they can regenerate. A silverite blade hurts them too".
"What is it?"
He was still crouched over its carcass, the veilfire hissing as the beast burned. He shrugged, thinking on an answer. It was one example of an entire species, smaller than others he'd encountered but no less savage. The spindly limbs, long claws, and jagged fangs were a common trait. Most were blood feeders, though he'd found piles of discarded bones in the past too.
"The Elvhen called them the Banal'din – that which never dies. They're smart, fast, strong, and have a propensity for violence. They imbibe blood like an elf drinks wine, though only the most bestial consume the flesh of their prey. I've seen entire villages ravaged by but one of them in a single night. They can turn into fog, become invisible, and change their forms at will".
Ellana flinched when the creature's severed legs jerked as if it were still alive. She grimaced when its taloned toes twitched. She backed away when she spied its pale severed hand in the ghoulish firelight. It was still moving, claws clicking against the ground. She nodded, wary when Fen'Harel repeated his warning.
"Stay inside the wards. If there are more, they won't stop coming until the sun rises. This was a scout, the weakest of its pack. It was an easy kill. The strongest of them won't be baited by a morsel left out in the open".
He reached inside the cavity of its chest, plucking the silverite dagger from its sternum. It came away with a sickening squelch. He thrust the blade into the flames, the heat cleansing flesh and gore until it glowed molten-hot. He lifted it clear, never once burning himself as he brought it his mouth. He exhaled a blast of cold air, lips pursed as if he were leaning in for a kiss.
The blade cooled with a hiss, steaming.
He glanced at Ellana, noting her flushed cheeks. He winked, tossing the knife. It passed through the wards slick as an eel. Ellana flinched when it hit the ground with a clatter. It skittered across the paving stones, missing the stinking pool of vomit by an inch. It came to rest against the toe of her boot.
"Ugh", she groaned, disgusted. "You prick".
Fen'Harel grinned with a flash of white fangs. "You'll need that, da'len. The night's not over".