Exile
By Pyreite
Chapter 6 –Rest, Recovery, and Revelation
It was a hard fight until dawn. Ellana sagged, breathing hard – the sweat pouring down her face. Wet sticky hair clung to her cheeks when the sun crested the horizon. It streaked the navy sky with slashes of red, pink, and orange. She slumped, clutching the grip of her bow in shaking hands.
A nocked arrow twitched like a worm on a fishing line.
"Fenedhis!" she swore as she gazed across the bloodied square. "Kill it!"
She'd been awake half the night fighting ghouls that vanished like the wind. She smiled with visceral satisfaction when the last Banal'din had its neck snapped like a twig. She was glad the square had ample pits. Each was stacked with corpses, though most had turned to ash in the blazing heat of the burning pyres. Ghoulish green flames flared, hissing when Fen'Harel rolled the last corpse into a pit.
The leader of the pack was dead.
Ellana holstered her bow, relieved that it was over. Fen'Harel crossed the warded ring of magic that'd protected her the whole night through. She tensed when he plucked at the fingers holding her last arrow. She would've slapped him if he hadn't latched onto her mouth like a leech. The kiss all teeth and tongue, was a battle of wills.
She bit him, infuriated by his boldness.
Fen'Harel bit her back albeit with greater gentleness. He refused to shed her blood as he swiped his tongue across her lower-lip. He was pleased by her answering moan. That she was alive and exhausted but unhurt was a victory. The wards he'd cast had kept her safe and secure during the Banal'din's assault.
Amaevhen had been an excellent teacher.
Ellana had proved her worth as an archer. The quiver across her back was empty. The brace of throwing knives strapped to her thigh was lighter too. Although she had a single blade left, Fen'Harel didn't doubt she'd use it if necessary. Ellana was a capable warrior in times of peace or war.
The kiss they'd shared ended with a smile. He pressed his forehead to hers, glad that she'd survived the night. Mad as she was that he'd taken advantage of her fatigue. She only managed to flick the tip of his nose in retaliation.
"Twat".
"You enjoyed it", retorted Fen'Harel.
"So I did", she agreed, yawning. "Now you get to carry me somewhere that isn't burning. It stinks here. I don't want to walk around half-dead, so you get the privilege of being my feet. Congratulations".
"That hardly seems fair".
"I don't care", grumbled Ellana. "Sleepy".
Then her fingers were sliding around his neck. Her arm followed as she flopped into his lap like a dead fish. She laid her head on his shoulder, the last arrow falling from her fingers. Her eyes closed, lashes fluttering. She exhaled a weary breath, falling asleep without asking him if he wanted to be her perch.
Fen'Harel returned the embrace, chuckling into her hair. She dozed for awhile afterwards, never noticing when he lifted her up. He intended to carry her away from the death and devastation. He'd retrieve her throwing knives later, along with her arrows. He made sure to collect their belongings before leaving the square.
Fen'Harel murmured an apology when Ellana was jostled awake. She settled again soon after, ignorant of the things wedged into her cleavage. Her companion would've appreciated the view if not for the satchels in the way. He pouted in disappointment, hefting her into his arms again. He bore her from the warded circle, glad to leave the heat and corpses behind.
He turned his back on the pockmarked road, taking a path south into the forest. The paving stones gave way to a dirt track that meandered through the trees. It was rough and uneven, full of gnarled roots, rocks, and underbrush. A trail taken more often by animals than people. The journey took longer with his arms full of a sleepy limp-legged elven woman.
He reached their destination without mishap, laying Ellana down in dappled sunlight. The grass was a softer carpet than the bare rocks. She roused when he tried to unwind her arms from his neck. She complained though she was too fatigued to argue. She was suspicious when he suggested that she bathe, eat, and change her clothes.
"Are you hoping that I haven't noticed you ogling me like a horny toad?" she accused, jabbing a stern finger at him. "Cop a feel and I'll take your hand off".
Fen'Harel knew better than to answer that accusation. Women were fickle creatures, prone to bouts of vengeful madness when upset. "I'm a wolf not a toad, da'len. I thought you would be more comfortable being clean, warm, and dry. Abelas did pack a set of spare clothes for you".
Ellana noticed the satchels in her lap, frowning. She sat for a moment, considering how they might have gotten there. She shrugged when no rational answer came to mind. In that moment the how or the why of it didn't really matter. So she swept an arm across her thighs, knocking them into the grass.
"Fine", she grumbled. "But don't get any ideas".
She paused, taking in their surroundings. She saw the trees, the wild flowers, and a shingle bed full of clear running water. Fen'Harel had brought her to the creek they'd discovered the day before. It was a vast improvement on the square full of craters filled with burning corpses. Baiting and killing the Banal'din had been an arduous affair.
She was dead tired.
She left him there, rolling onto her belly like an eel. She crawled over the ground to the water's edge. The creek was shallow, but wide. It would do. She peeled the glove off her right hand, tossing it aside as she plunged her fingers into the water. She scooped out one palmful after another, slacking her thirst.
The parched dryness in her throat receded after the tenth mouthful. Her thirst quenched, Ellana turned her nose into the grimy collar of her shirt. She took a cautious sniff, grimacing. She was cold, the rank fabric of her shirt clinging like a second skin. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the weight of the bow across her back.
It was cumbersome.
"Andraste's tits", she cursed, hating the weapon she'd always loved. She rummaged under her cleavage, wriggling until she got a hand on a buckle of her harness. It came free with a firm tug. She rolled onto her side, letting the bow and quiver slide into the grass. It was a relief to lose the added weight.
She picked at the ties of her gambeson, pausing when she saw a reflection in the water. A brown hat with a wide brim shielded a face from the sun. Watery blue eyes stared back at her under a fringe of lank blonde hair. Cole's mouth moved as he gave voice to her fears.
"A walking skeleton with the face of a darkspawn. Its bones like ice, its skin like sleet. Cold, so cold, its adamantine fangs shining silver-white in the darkness. It turned to mist, then disappeared like the wind. Does it hear a song ringing in the hollows of its bones? There's madness in the music that echoes underground. The blighted heart that beats deep inside the stone bleeds red".
"It's all right", soothed Cole with sincere affection. "This world isn't like home. There's no Blight, no darkspawn, or a mad titan singing in the earth. It's not any safer than home, but you won't catch the Taint from the Banal'din".
Ellana's lower-lip wobbled. She gasped when she saw him sitting cross-legged in the grass. His cheeks dimpled when she turned, knees skidding in the dirt. His arms were open when she launched herself at him with a cry.
"Cole!"
He toppled over with an armful of sweaty bedraggled elf in his lap. "I've missed you too", he whispered, hugging her tight.
"Cole!" wailed Ellana, the tears spilling over. The joy of seeing one of her closest friends alive was a balm for her fears. Cole patted her back, murmuring nonsense while she sobbed into his neck. He looked across the creek to the shadow beneath the trees.
It was tall, sleek and so dark its silhouette flickered when it moved. It was an amorphous cloud that flowed across the ground like water. A multitude of eyes opened, one after another – each large, round, and ruby-red. A snout followed, long, narrow, and inky-black. It opened to reveal a maw full of glittering silver-white icicles.
Cole shooed him away.
Fen'Harel conceded with a nod, slinking into the undergrowth.
He returned at midday bearing a gift upon his shoulders. The buck was young, its antlers short and twiggy. It would provide adequate meat for a few days. He brought the carcass to Ellana, who lounged on a boulder sharpening her knives. She was wide awake, clean, and sitting half-naked in the sun.
Her clothes were wet and drying on the rocks near by.
She wore her spare shirt, the collar open to her navel. Her bare legs were crossed at the ankle. He dropped the carcass at her feet, smirking when he glimpsed a lacy breastband. It was in that delightful gap between two halves of linen. The framing perfect. He leaned forward to stare down into the valley of her breasts.
A prod in the balls made him chuckle.
Ellana peered at him through her lashes. A brow arching when she tapped the edge of her blade against his knee. The pointed tip was an inch from his crotch. He stepped away, raising his hands to pacify her.
She rolled her eyes, then considered the buck at her feet. "Is that where you've been all morning? After I awakened, Cole said you'd gone hunting. Although he didn't tell me what you'd be chasing in the woods. He was adamant that I stay put until you'd returned".
"Wise of him", praised Fen'Harel. "We haven't explored the island. We don't know what kind of dangers lurk further afield. He was right to be cautious".
"You still haven't told me where you went off too".
He shrugged. There was little point in lying. "I went back to the watchtower, dug about in the rubble, and found a second staircase leading down to the beach. I followed it to the shoreline, then across the shallows into a cavern. It went back forty yards into the rock-face".
Ellana was skinning the buck, her blade sliding between flesh and hide. "What did you find?"
"A rat in the dark. I pulled him out by the tail. He thrashed, clawed, and spat like a wild thing. He tried to bite me so I tore his fangs out. He's a little bloody, but alive".
That got her attention. "What kind of rat is he?"
"You'll see soon enough. He's trapped inside the wards we cast like a mouse in a cage. I can't let him out. He's a danger to anything with a pulse. You especially now that he knows there's something else to eat on this island besides deer and seagulls".
Ellana shuddered, grimacing. "Is he one of the Banal'din?" She paled when Fen'Harel nodded. "Were there others? I thought we'd killed them all".
"He was the last. The true leader of their pack. He coordinated the others like troops in an army. They were in the cavern below the watchtower hibernating until we arrived. The one I found sent their scout to investigate".
"That scout tracked me back to our camp".
"They have an excellent sense of smell", revealed Fen'Harel. "On par with a wolf, so it didn't take more than a few sniffs to catch your scent. He followed our trail, thinking we were easy pickings. He approached while you slept, sensing the wards though he took little notice. Most Banal'din are resistant to magic, though certain spells can do damage at the right intensity".
Ellana wasn't so sure. They'd found little evidence of spell damage at the watchtower. There'd been collapsed walls, but no scorch-marks from lightening and fire-spells. Patches of dried blood had been visible in places sheltered from the wind and rain. The arch of the main doorway had still been standing.
So had part of the roof and walls, though the doors were a ruin of twisted metal.
Ellana would never forget the three-fingered gouges in the stone. Or the bones amidst the dusty weapon racks. She'd seen overturned tables and broken chairs. Bloodstains on the ceiling, the walls, and the floor. She'd backed out of the ruins, the bile crawling up her throat.
"Magic didn't save those garrisoned at the watchtower", she declared, uneasy. "Ambushed at night by something that can vanish like smoke on the wind. They were taken unawares and slaughtered. That's why the tower was unwarded. They didn't think they could be attacked out here".
An uncomfortable silence stretched between them. Ellana ceased skinning the buck, the bloodied blade of her knife turned against her thigh. She stared at the beast slit open from throat to tail like the Banal'din. Fen'Harel had emptied the innards, disposing of the viscera. She wondered if he'd eaten the heart or the liver.
"I saw you moving in the dark last night", she said at last, dispelling the tension. "A shadow with fangs, claws, and eyes like rubies. You tore into them like a rabid dog in a sheep pen. You'd lop off one's arm, then tear off another's leg. I heard them shriek in agony as you carved into a third".
Fen'Harel was perturbed by her phrasing. "I didn't want to frighten you, but I had little choice. If they had stormed the wards together. They might've broken through. I had to engage them or risk your life. I couldn't do that, Ellana".
"So you've said. That doesn't explain why you'd risk yourself for me. We share a magical connection because of Solas' foci, but in truth we barely know each other. So why do you care about what happens to me?"
"Because I do".
"That's an excuse, not an answer".
"You're not ready to know the truth. Solas' betrayal is too fresh, the wounds he inflicted too deep. A few kisses won't change that, but I hope in time that you'll come to trust me".
She exhaled a wary breath, more relieved than afraid. He was too perceptive, though his patience lessened the sting. "I like you better than Solas", she admitted. "It's a start. Last night won you some credibility".
Fen'Harel grinned. "Only some, da'len?"
"I know what you did for me. I won't forget it".
He was appeased. "Then I hope you'll return the favour some day". He paused, annoyed to find that she was alone. "Where's Cole? He was supposed to keep you company".
"He disappeared when you came back", said Ellana, her nose wrinkling. "You make him nervous. He'll be along when next I need him".
"Are you sure?"
"I know it. Cole and I have been friends for more than a century. He knows my moods, though I'm surprised he followed me here. I asked him if Solas had known what'd happened to the elves that'd lived on this island. I'm unsure if I was sent here to die, or if the Banal'dins' presence was a coincidence".
Fen'harel was intrigued. "What did he say?"
"That he was afraid to go poking around in Solas' head. Cole can choose to whom he appears, but it's harder for a spirit to hide from a somniari. Solas sensed his presence yesterday, but couldn't see him. A strange thing considering how sensitive he is to the Fade. So Cole chose caution over curiosity, even if it meant we'd be at a disadvantage out here".
"Are you angry with him?"
"I should be, but when he looks at me with those sad blue eyes", admitted Ellana. "I can't stay mad at him. I want to ask him why he never came for me. Why he never helped me to escape Solas if he knew where I was. He goes quiet, bracing himself for the barrage of accusation as if he were a dog I'm about to boot".
"Do you think he feels guilty?"
"Why should he?" she countered. "I chose to surrender Skyhold. I chose to abandon the forces I led against Solas. I chose to become his prisoner. Cole is blameless for the decisions I made. It'd be easy to use him as a scapegoat, but the fault is mine".
Fen'Harel understood her predicament. Cole was a spirit of compassion. He'd tried to incite her fury to help her let go of the past. It hadn't worked. Ellana was too altruistic to let another bear the burden of her failings.
"He's trying to help you".
"He's going about it backwards. He's afraid to poke around inside my head because Solas taught me his tricks. I'm not somniari, but I'm close enough to make him wary. So he tried to upset me, but I felt guilty instead. I'm not the kind of person that talks about their feelings".
"He's frustrated with you".
"That's why Cole went off on his own", agreed Ellana. "He's determined to help, even if that means finding shelter for us".
"Will you ever let him help you?"
"When it's a matter of life and death. I'm pragmatic not stupid. When it comes to things of a personal nature. I'd prefer that he kept his nose out of my business". She took offence when Fen'Harel snickered. "Why is that so amusing?"
"You're stubborn".
"So are you", she retorted, turning back to the buck. She resumed skinning it, her blade sliding between flesh and hide.
Fen'Harel was glad to find her feisty again. There were troubles from the past she'd yet to address, but she looked better than she had yesterday. Her eyes were bright and full of fire. Her lashes were dry not wet, the lids beneath pink rather than inflamed. She was lively, blunt, and cruder than a book of Fereldan smut. An improvement from the ball of misery that'd sulked at Solas' table.
Ellana had recovered her backbone, along with that delightful hotheadedness. It was clear why Abelas had wanted to be rid of her. She'd distracted Solas from what'd mattered. The fate of the Elvhen, the Evanuris, and every poor elven sap still stuck in Thedas. Fen'Harel admired Ellana's bare bronzed thighs, convinced that he'd gotten the better end of the deal.
"You have lovely legs. I wouldn't mind sitting between them".
Her refusal was curt enough to sting. "No".
"Then I'll settle for leering at you instead. The view is ever so nice from this angle. If you'd be so kind to lift your shirt. I'd be able to admire those shapely-Ow! It's not nice to throw things, da'len".
Cole returned near mid-afternoon. He found Ellana tearing a chunk of cooked venison off the bone. She groaned in pleasure, chewing with relish. A flustered Fen'Harel watched her swallow then lick her fingers. She frowned, glaring at him when he gawped at her like a fool.
The moment she brought her fingers to her lips again, he was wriggling in the grass like an eel.
"No", she said when he reached for the meat roasting over the fire. "I'm fine".
Fen'Harel pouted, his fingers hovering inches from the spit. "I like taking care of you".
Ellana blushed. "You've already done that. You hunted for me. Remember? I'm quite capable of cooking food and eating it on my own".
"I know. I suppose that I'm used to spending time with you during meals. We'd talk while you ate. I miss it. Don't you?"
"I was a prisoner. Why would I miss that?"
The corners of his mouth turned down. He nodded, though he was clearly unhappy. Ellana was glad for his help, but they weren't in Solas' fortress. She didn't need to rely on him for food or conversation. But his habits were so ingrained that he was having trouble breaking them.
"Ir abelas", apologized Ellana. "I know you're trying to help me in whatever way you can. Ma serannas for hunting for me, and bringing the buck back. I appreciate your kindness, but there are some things I can do for myself".
Fen'Harel was terribly disappointed. "Oh".
"Maker's breath. Stop moping. You're like a puppy that's lost his favourite slipper to chew on". She snorted, her eyes rolling when he poked a finger into the coals. He prodded the embers, never burning himself as he drew patterns in the hot ashes.
"You don't need me like you used too. I'm allowed to mourn the loss".
Cole sensed the maelstrom of emotion surging beneath Fen'Harel's skin. He was easier to read than Solas, though he was far more dangerous. Cole wasn't inclined to blurt his troubles aloud, the way he would've for an elf, dwarf, or a human. He knew what Fen'Harel was beneath the façade of his borrowed elven face. So he turned to their mutual companion, hoping to lessen the rift he could sense forming between them.
"The cage door is open, the bird flies free. The perch swings back and forth inside an empty prison of glass, steel, and stone. The walls whisper, the stone sings, and the falconer weeps. His prized falcon has flown away, catching an updraught with open wings. She soars high and far on the wind, while the wolf with ruby eyes runs in her shadow".
Ellana chewed, swallowed and tore off a last piece of venison. She licked her fingers, tossing the rib into the fire. She listened with an attentive ear, gazing at Fen'Harel all the while. She knew of whom Cole spoke, though she had little remorse. Let Solas weep, she'd buried enough of her friends, family, and allies to fill a graveyard.
"The falconer keens, lost in his sorrow. His silver hound paces before the gate that lies broken. There is no way back, the path forever closed. The falcon cares not, turning her beak towards the sun. The wind ruffles her feathers, while the wolf with ruby eyes guards her day and night".
Ellana arched an eyebrow when Fen'Harel caught her staring. He returned her scrutiny, frustrated when she didn't look away. Cole's narration proved unceasing. The lad was a touch too insightful. He barked an order before Cole could reveal more than he was willing to share.
"Venavis!"
"But I want to help".
"You've helped enough!" hissed Fen'Harel. "I'm sure Ellana can piece it together on her own!" He regarded the woman he adored with a sense of trepidation. He hoped she wasn't too perceptive. Cole had laid out a third of his cards on the table in this game of Wicked Grace.
He wasn't sure who would win.
Solas or himself.
"Parshaara", called Ellana with a sense of finality. "Don't poke it, Cole". She paused, staring into the fire. She considered the burning wood inside the ring of stones. It was there that she saw what Fen'Harel had drawn in the ashes.
It was a shape fashioned from bits of charred wood. She saw a dog-like head with pointed ears, a shaggy body with four legs, and a long bushy tail. She saw what looked like two eyes gazing back at her. Eyes that were red embers inside a lupine face with a long snout, jagged cheeks, and a maw full of ivory fangs. She heard faint screaming when the fire hissed, a gust of wind carried the stink of iron.
She thought of cobbled streets drenched in blood, of shadows with adamantine fangs. She stared into the fire, her eyes widening when figures took shape. She saw a baby born beneath a black sun, then a frightened girl cast into the dirt. A woman came after her, tall, slender and beautiful bearing a beating heart in bloodied hands. A trail of corpses led to her door, each bleeding and broken with their throats torn out.
She disappeared in a swirl of crimson. Ellana heard the clang of steel on steel, the scrape of claws on stone. She saw a face take shape in the fire that blurred between human and something with eyes like shards of ice. First it was a man black-haired and handsome then a snarling beast with the face of a darkspawn. Its lips peeled back from its fangs as it roared, slashing at the air with its claws.
"Ellana!"
She jerked backwards, tumbling from her perch. She landed on her back in the grass, wheezing as her hands flew to her chest. A frantic pat down revealed shredded fabric and welling blood. A shadow fell across her face, blocking out the sun. Her teeth clenched when deft hands plucked at the ties of her shirt. Each impatient tug provoked a curse and a burst of short sharp pain.
"Kaffas!" hissed Ellana, her arms crossing. "Get off me!"
"Ir abelas, da'len!" apologised Fen'Harel as he yanked open her shirt. "I need to see-Oh how lovely". He reddened on seeing the lacy green breastband with its matching set of briefs. She'd donned a fresh pair after her bath in the creek. He grinned, appreciating her dips and curves until he saw her bare stomach.
Her skin was red, raked raw, and bleeding. Five cuts as if made by the point of a knife had been sliced into her midriff. Fen'Harel probed the wounds, grimacing in sympathy when Ellana's breath hitched. He assessed the injury, murmuring apologies when she groaned in pain. He followed the the cuts from the top of her left hip, across her stomach to the curve of her ribs.
"Fenedhis", swore Fen'Harel. "You caught the blow mid-strike. Any deeper and you would've been disembowelled".
He turned his left hand against the wound, spreading his fingers as if he had claws. He raked them across her torso, following the arc of the lacerations. He exhaled a shaky breath, glad the cuts were shallow and seeping. He lay the palm of his hand on her belly, blood smearing as he invoked a healing spell. Magic flared beneath his fingers dulling Ellana's pain.
She groaned as the torn edges of her skin knitted together. The blood remained, though the bleeding ceased. Ellana exhaled a wary breath, the threads of her hair pooling about her head in a silver halo. She peered at Fen'Harel through her lashes, flinching when he frowned. He eyed her with suspicion, the flat of his hand pressing down on her belly.
"You were clawed. A glancing blow".
"I know", she replied in a small voice, feeling vulnerable. "But he wasn't aiming at me".
Fen'Harel's eyes narrowed. "Who wasn't?" He bared his fangs, growling when she hesitated to answer. "Ellana!" He dug his nails into her mended skin, relenting when she squirmed in discomfort. "What did you see in the fire?"
Her lower-lip wobbled. "Let me up".
"Tell me what you saw".
Ellana tensed, the muscles in her stomach coiling beneath her skin. She was afraid when a shadow fell across them. She looked up into the face of a dear and trusted friend. Cole gathered up her hair, careful not to pull the silver strands. He picked out daisies, blades of grass, and small green leaves. He smoothed her tresses, the corners of his mouth turning down.
"Tell him. Please. It hurts when you lie about the dreams, the visions. Solas only saw memories in the Fade while he slept. He didn't know that you could make them as real as I am".
Fen'Harel sucked in a startled breath. "What?"
Cole nodded, though he never once looked away from Ellana. He kept staring into her eyes, hoping to ease the pain he knew was there. He frowned when she bit her lip, the knowledge she'd kept from Solas still a burden. He sensed the emotions swirling inside her head. There was mistrust, fear, and anxiety.
"Ellana. Let him help. You know I can't when you can push me out".
Fen'Harel was perturbed by his phrasing. "You can't read her thoughts?"
"No", said Cole with a slow shake of his head. "She can shield her mind. It's like an open door slamming shut. That's why Solas couldn't enter her dreams again after Haven. He searched for years to find a way back inside, but he couldn't no matter how hard he tried".
"He needed to be invited back in".
"Exactly".
Fen'Harel regarded Ellana with a sense of wonder. "To fool a somniari as old and skilled as Solas. You're a rarity for a novice of the Vir Thenerasan. He always assumed that he couldn't steal inside your dreams at night because of me. He'd rant about it for hours to Abelas, though never while I was in earshot".
Cole sensing Ellana's reluctance, asked the question she wouldn't. "How did you find out?"
Fen'Harel was forthcoming. " After Ellana's lessons, Solas would glare at me like a sullen brat. Abelas would watch me like a hawk too. It was easy to figure out what they were peeved about. Solas was never able to hide his envy, even behind a mask of politeness".
A tense silence stretched between them. Cole ran his fingers through Ellana's hair. It calmed her whilst Fen'Harel wiped the blood from her torso with a wet cloth. He'd kept all manner of odds and ends inside the myriad pockets of his gambeson. He made a noise of sympathy when Ellana winced.
The cloth scraping across her flushed skin was uncomfortable.
"Sore?"
"A little tender. It'll pass in a day or two".
"Ir abelas".
"It's all right".
Fen'Harel sighed, shaking his head. "It's not. You were hurt. There was no obvious danger, yet your skin bears evidence of an injury. The kind I've seen before, though the blow was always mortal".
He ran his fingers across the reddened ridges on her abdomen. Five cuts in an arc across her torso, each delivered by a swift one-handed blow. Fen'Harel recognised the handywork. Five fingers with five claws, each the length of Ellana's forearm. She'd been grazed by the strike, though he'd yet to figure out how.
"You were struck by one of the Banal'din", he declared, wiping away the last of the blood. "Although the how and the why of it is a mystery". He paused, wringing the cloth out in the grass. Her skin glistened in the sunlight, wet and healed though still raw. "I'm worried it might happen again".
Cole brushed his knuckles against her cheek. "It'd be best coming from you".
Ellana capitulated, muttering an expletive. She glowered at Fen'Harel when he gave her bare belly a fond pat. He sank back on his haunches, giving her room to sit up and cross her legs. She pulled down her bloodied shirt, smoothing the shredded fabric across her lap. She let Cole run a bone comb through her hair, then gather the silky length of it in his hands.
He sat behind her in the grass, braiding while she confided in Fen'Harel. It was a secret known only by her clan's Keeper, not even her father had been privy to it. She proved reluctant till Cole tugged on a lock of her hair. She smacked the knee pressing into her hip when he grumbled.
"I'll tell him if you don't. It's gotten dangerous now. You were hurt. How are we supposed to protect you if someone can attack without touching you? Be sensible".
Ellana rolled her eyes. "Fine, though I don't like this at all".
"I know, but you need to tell him. Fen'Harel cares about you as much as I do".
"That's debatable".
"Ellana".
"Maker's arse. Don't mutiny on me. I've dealt with enough betrayal in my life to turn any woman sour. I don't trust anyone, Cole. You know that".
"You trust me".
"You're an exception".
He was quiet then, though mulish enough to prod her in the shoulder. He did it again when Ellana hesitated. She eyed Fen'Harel with disdain, her nose wrinkling when he arched an eyebrow. She hated the expectant look on his face. She supposed he'd earned the right to this secret after saving her life.
She told him with a sense of trepidation.
"My father wasn't Dalish, he fled Tevinter before I was born. He was on the run from a magister called Danarius. My friend encountered him years later in the Free Marches. Varric killed him with the help of Marian Hawke, because he tried to recapture Hawke's lover. A runaway elven slave that was my father's firstborn son".
"You have a brother", said Fen'Harel. "Is he dead?"
"A half-brother", corrected Ellana. "I don't know. I've never met him, though Varric always suspected we were related. He often said that we looked alike, even if I had tits and a twat instead of a cock between my legs. My brother's name was Fenris, though his birth name was Leto".
"What does he have to do with you being able to shield your mind from spirits?"
"We shared a common trait thanks to our father Lerel".
"What trait?"
"A high tolerance for pain. Fenris had lyrium tattoos courtesy of Danarius experimenting on him. Varric didn't need to tell me how it happened. I knew long before he did, because I dreamt of Fenris' torment when I was a child. I saw him strapped to a table as Danarius incised his skin with spells and molten lyrium".
Fen'Harel understood. "The ability to dream of the past is unique to somniari. He was your brother so the bond by blood was there. It was natural that you were connected to him through your dreams. His past became your present. His suffering a warning for you about the dangers that awaited in Tevinter".
"I suppose", said Ellana. "Although my father was neither a somniari nor a mage. That came from my mother's side of my family. She was descended from a line of Dalish dreamers going back centuries. All were women according to my clan's Keeper, though not one had been born in years".
"You were the first that came into the world after a very long time".
"Yes. Although I wasn't a mage. I could dream, but not shape the Fade. That changed when I met Solas. It got worse after he tore down the Veil".
"How?"
She shrugged, shaking her head. "I don't know".
"You must have some idea", insisted Fen'Harel. "No somniari can make the contents of a dream real enough to hurt themselves in the waking world. A somniari can die if they're killed in the Fade, but that's while they're asleep. You were wide awake. That's well outside Solas' repertoire".
Ellana didn't like his line of thought. "You're making me sound like a freak of nature".
"I'm sad to say that you are. Now tell me when your dreams changed. When did you notice that you could make things from the Fade manifest? Was it before or after Solas first touched your dreams in Haven? My brother always did like to stick his nose where he shouldn't".
Cole sensing her distress, laid a hand on her shoulder. A gentle squeeze was enough to remind her that she wasn't alone. She had a friend, though there was a stretch of thirty years between them. A space of silence that Fen'Harel had filled in the guise of Theron Mahariel. Ellana hadn't forgiven him for his absence, that pearl of pain like a burr under her skin.
"It started after Solas kissed me in the Fade. I could feel his lips on mine hours after I awoke in my chambers. I'd often feel him watching me in my dreams too. Sometimes I'd wake with something of his in my hands. It started small at first – a quill, a pot of paint, a book he'd been reading, or an empty teacup".
"Go on", urged Fen'Harel.
"It got stranger as the months went by", revealed Ellana. "My dreams were full of things I'd never seen before. A city of white marble with crystal spires trimmed in gold. Towers tall as a mountain filled with glass that reflected the sky".
"Arlathan".
"I didn't know what it was at the time. All I knew was that somewhere, somehow it'd existed. I'd wake with bits of it in my hands. Once I brought back a goblet fashioned from spun crystal. It was full of a pale orange wine that tasted like apples, but smelt of sunshine, honey, and cinnamon".
Fen'Harel stared at her in astonishment. "Alderis wine from Mythal's table. Reserved for her and Elgar'nan alone. Is that why you refused every ewer of wine Solas sent with your meals?"
"It is".
"What did you do with the goblet?"
"I tossed it over the balcony railing outside my chambers in Skyhold. It shattered into a thousand pieces somewhere in the Frostback mountains. I couldn't risk Solas getting hold of it. He'd ask too many questions. I did the same with anything else I bought back with me from that blasted city".
"Ellana!"
"What?"
Fen'Harel scowled, upset by the waste of a quality ancient alcoholic beverage. "Alderis wine is for drinking not throwing!"
"Oh, shut up".
Their discussion continued for another hour. Ellana explained what she could, though Fen'Harel was far from satisfied. There was a point of contention between them. She'd yet to reveal what she'd seen in the fire, though there was something he understood. She'd given herself up to Solas after a century of fighting him for one reason.
"After he tore down the Veil, the dreams got worse", she declared, her voice tight. "More vivid, more violent. I'd often wake wet and shivering, drenched in gore. My sheets bloody, my clothes singed and shredded. I'd bring back severed hands, legs, and sometimes a head or two".
"Fenedhis", swore Fen'Harel. "How?"
"I don't know", said Ellana with a shake of her head. "It terrified Sera, unnerved my spymaster, and gave my personal guard nightmares. I tried taking a sleeping draught to stop the dreams. It never worked. So when I awoke in my chambers atop a dragon's severed head".
"You made the decision to go to Solas".
"I had little choice. How could I continue leading the rebellion when my people whispered of witchcraft? So I contacted Solas in a dream, offering him a chance to end the war. He took it, came to Skyhold, and demanded I surrender. I became his prisoner, then my lessons in the Vir Thenerasan began".
Fen'Harel was certain she hadn't told him everything. He studied her face, searching for the slightest hint of deception. He saw the fear in her eyes, the uneasiness in the tense line of her shoulders. She was holding something back. He doubted she'd be willing to share unless persuaded.
"Did he know the extent of your abilities?"
"He had his suspicions, though he never had a chance to act on them. You kept him at bay. Things got better thanks to Solas' tutelage, though I resented every moment I spent with him. It was frustrating having to endure his lessons. I too often wanted to put a blade through his eye".
Fen'Harel recalled how she'd glowered at Solas. A lesson in his private suite had began with a sleeping draught. It'd ended with her sound asleep on a couch in the corner of his study. An intimate moment if not for the spirit guarding her slumber. Solas had hated his constant presence at her side – waking or sleeping.
"I remember. That doesn't explain today's vision. I know first-hand that on waking from your dreams after Solas' lessons. You never brought back severed body parts".
"They was true until the visions started. Whenever I'd gaze into a blazing hearth, or a pool of water. I'd see things".
"What things?" asked Fen'Harel.
Ellana shrugged, frowning. "People I'd never met. Places I'd never been too. The visions were harmless daydreams until I had incidents like the one today. Things would manifest in the physical world as they'd once done after I'd awoken from a nightmare".
"Like the Banal'din that attacked you".
"That's a logical assumption".
Fen'Harel was insistent. "Tell me what you saw in the flames".
"Why?"
"Tell me".
Ellana rolled her eyes. "Andraste's tits. You won't even let me rest and recover before bothering me with your questions. What a prick. If that's not annoying enough, Cole keeps poking me in the bloody back too".
She swatted at her friend, who was still braiding her hair.
"Stop deviating", he scolded. "You're not finished".
She snorted when she saw Fen'Harel's face. He was smirking like a prat. "In the fire, I saw a shemlen baby born during a solar eclipse. Then a shemlen girl, perhaps thirteen or fourteen cast out onto the road. She knelt in the dust, weeping though she vowed revenge on those that'd hurt her".
"Who was she?"
"I don't know. Her clothing while dirty and rumpled was made of fine cloth. Velvet, sable and silk embroidered with gold thread. She was of the gentry, someone noble-born but disgraced. I saw her as an adult, pretty and black-haired with eyes like sapphires in a face as cold as ice".
She continued with a grimace of distaste. "She carried a heart in her hands, fresh, beating and bloody. She was smiling at it as if it were something precious. Although I'm sure that she hated the person it belonged too. Then I saw a line of corpses outside her door, each slashed and bleeding with their throats torn out".
"How callous", stated Fen'Harel. "Do you think she killed them?"
"I got the impression that she did, though I've no way to prove it", replied Ellana. "I do know that she was a conniving two-faced snake. Whatever she did lured others into battle. I heard men shouting, the clang of swords, and the sound of claws scraping stone. Then I saw a face in the flames. A man, black-haired and blue-eyed that appeared shemlen then wasn't".
Fen'Harel arched an eyebrow. "He changed?"
"Into a darkspawn. Those same eyes turned glassy and cat-like, gleaming silver-blue. He snarled at me, fangs bared as if I'd startled him. Then the bastard damned near eviscerated me with his claws. If I end up with scars on my belly, I'll owe him a kick in the balls".
"Dettlaff!"
He turned at the call of his name, bewildered. They'd settled in a warren of caves high in the mountains. Their den was accessible from the air, though the underground entrance was submerged. No Witcher could hold their breath in frigid water a hundred fathoms deep. Now he wasn't sure if they'd taken enough precautions.
Black eyes glinted like obsidian beneath a pair of furrowed brows. "What's wrong? I heard you roar from the distillery". Regis sniffed like a hound, nostrils flaring as he smelt the metallic stink of iron. "Oh my".
Dettlaff turned, fangs bared though his jaws closed with a snap. He was still growling when he presented his hands to his packmate. He was frightened and angry. Something had happened that shouldn't have been possible. No one outside their pack knew where they'd taken sanctuary.
Yet someone had found them all the same.
"There's blood on your claws".
"I know", replied Dettlaff.
"How?" asked Regis. "You and I are the only beings out here. There's not another vampire in these mountains for a thousand leagues. The nearest human settlements are hundreds of miles away. A leshen guards the valley below, but it'd never venture beyond the forest".
Dettlaff shook his head, brow wrinkling in bewilderment. "I saw a woman".
"A woman?"
"An elf, but like none I have ever seen. She was slender as a reed, bronzed like the Ofieri, and had hair like moonlight. But her eyes were like jewels, Regis. They were so intense a green that I mistook them for emeralds. She appeared out of nowhere, like a mirage shimmering in the air".
"Startling you", concluded Regis. "Thus the blood on your claws".
"Yes. I hurt her, but then she vanished. She was here for a moment then gone the next. There is blood, but no corpse or any lingering scent. I don't know if she was real, a wraith, or a figment of my imagination".
"May I?"
Regis gestured to Dettlaff's right hand, indicating the pale claws the length of his forearm. He waited whilst his fellow vampire decided whether to trust him. They'd made an uneasy truce after what'd happened in Toussaint. Dettlaff kept him at arm's length despite the blood-bond they shared. He'd stood against him with a Witcher, a slayer of monsters.
Even if Geralt hadn't avenged Syanna, there was still unresolved tension.
It was best not to rush him. Dettlaff had a tendency to be brash when angry. Regis knew that from experience after a violent reunion with Geralt. He waited, hopeful that Dettlaff would extend an olive branch. It'd been difficult trying to find him, let alone to convince him not to turn away a friend.
Regis was relieved when Dettlaff extended his right hand. It was a small yet profound gesture. Regis responded in kind, running the pad of a finger down one pale claw. He swiped a drop of blood, smearing it between his thumb and forefinger. He brought it to his nose, sniffing.
His eyes widened in surprise. "That can't be right". He dared to taste it, lips parting as his tongue darted out.
Dettlaff watched him with apprehension. "You shouldn't".
"It's a droplet not a cup. I'll be fine, but I'm grateful for your concern".
Regis smacked his lips, tongue rolling against the roof of his mouth. His brows furrowed. "It tastes strange-Oh!" He spat out a mouthful of spittle, grimacing. It burst into a plume of emerald flame, flaring hot then fizzling out with an ominous crackle.
"Regis!"
"I'm all right. My tongue's singed, but I'm otherwise unharmed".
Dettlaff glared at the blood on his claws. "It caught fire. How?"
"Magic, I suspect. Although not of a kind I've encountered before. That fire was worse than what Vilgefortz hit me with at Stygga Castle. I can't taste anything, and I suspect my tongue isn't healing as it should. Whatever that fire-spell was it causes quite painful burns".
Regis was surprised when Dettlaff made a demand. "Let me see".
"I'm fine".
"Regis".
A stern look silenced him. Regis capitulated with a sigh, though he didn't pop his mouth open like a baby-bird. He beckoned Dettlaff, turning on his heel. He walked away, heading deeper into their sanctuary. He moved into a cavern filled with pillars of stone protruding like fangs from the floor and ceiling.
Rosy columns of stalagnates thick as a tree-trunk grew out of a large pool. It was fathomless, the bottom dropping away into a submerged chamber. Eyes peered at them from the depths in flashes of gold. Regis offered a casual wave. He would've kept walking if a voice hadn't called his name from the water.
A sharp E followed the rolling R while the last syllables of his name were a long sibilant hiss.
Dettlaff laid a hand on his shoulder. A squeeze of those formidable fingers was enough to stop him cold. Regis turned with a sigh, frowning when Dettlaff inclined his head to the pool. He preferred to avoid the denizen with whom they shared their lodgings. She reminded him of an Unseen Elder though she'd never once compelled him to act against his will.
"Must we?"
His packmate gave him a long hard look. "She gave us sanctuary without asking for anything in return. Now she calls for you by name. It would be wrong to ignore her. Haven't you always told me that courtesy should always be returned with courtesy?"
"Yes, but she's not a vampire. Or human or elven for that matter. She's a snake".
"You're being impolite", chided Dettlaff. "She is the guardian of this place. Thousands of years older than you or I. She deserves to be respected".
Regis' shoulders slumped. "I'd apologise, but we both know that would be insincere. She frightens me. I'd prefer that we kept what happened between us. It is our concern not hers. Can't we simply retreat instead?"
He flinched when something burst from the pool with an almighty splash. Dettlaff was more restrained, though he grimaced when droplets rained down on them. He brushed away the water that trickled down the collar of his coat. He eyed Regis, watching when the elder vampire blinked then brought a hand to his mouth. He was staring at the pool, or rather the occupant that'd slithered out of it onto a rocky embankment.
The serpentine length of her body coiled around a stalagnate. The dark scales of her underbelly rasping over the stone as she tread water. She was strange for a gorgon, neither green, grey nor banded like a snake. Her scales were white slashed with bands of brown and black like bolts of lightning. She emerged from behind that rosy column, a reptilian trunk merging into a humanoid torso.
Broad feminine hips met a flat taut stomach. Regis followed the line of her scales to the contours of her ribcage. His brows arched when he saw two heavy scaled breasts. Her cleavage rose as she inhaled, then fell on the exhale. The subtlest most fascinating jiggle earned him a clout on the ear.
"Ow!" He rubbed the side of his head, glaring at Dettlaff. It'd been little more than a tap, but it'd still hurt his pride. "Was that necessary? I was appreciating a fine example of feminine beauty".
"You were staring", corrected Dettlaff with a growl.
"I've never seen breasts scaled or striped before", sniped Regis. "I'm sorry if I was momentarily stunned by the loveliness of their shape, size, and proximity. It's not as if I've ever seen a gorgon before in my life, especially one so striking or well-endowed. Don't look at me like that".
"Like what?"
Regis flapped a hand at him, taking offence. "Like you're judging me. My father used to do that when I was a fledgling. It was infuriating. He'd glare at me as if I'd done something wrong, but was too stupid to realise what it was".
Dettlaff disagreed with him. "I'm not judging you".
"Yes you are. You've got no excuse either. You're as much of a red-blooded male vampire as I am".
He gestured to the gorgon in their midst, tall, slender, and striped in all the right places.
"She is beautiful. I am neither a voyeur nor a peeping-tom for acknowledging that".
"You were leering", grumbled Dettlaff. "It was rude. And I recall that you were reluctant to meet her. Why the sudden change of heart? I can only assume that your fears evaporated when you saw her nakedness".
Husky laughter echoed through the cavern. Regis flustered and mortified remembered that he feared the old snake. The rasping glide of her scales reminded him of Geralt honing a blade with a whetstone. He swallowed, anxious when clawed fingers combed through his hair. A hand, larger than his own curled around the side of his head.
Scaled knuckles caressed his brow, temple, and cheek. Regis trembled when the pad of a scaled thumb pressed into his chin. His breath caught in his throat when he peered into the gorgon's face. Her fingers locked around his jaw. The serpentine length of her body rolled like a wave.
Regis glimpsed the thick striped coils curling around them in a tight circle. There was no escape. Dettlaff didn't bat an eyelid when the gorgon's hair came alive. A writhing mass of striped snakes hissed, snapped, and bared their fangs. Regis recoiled, expecting to be bitten.
He was distracted when a warm wet mouth covered his own. His lips parted on reflex, leaving an open space for a forked tongue to slither inside. He gasped, eyes closing when the gorgon kissed him with surprising tenderness. She was careful not to tear his gums when she scraped her fangs against his own. She soothed the slightest hint of pain with a stroke of her tongue.
That selfsame appendage darted deep into Regis' mouth. He was on the tips of his toes when she sucked on his lower-lip. A gentle bite elicited a moan, a delightful consequence that made her laugh. Her amusement vibrated in the passage of her throat and down into the cavern of Regis' mouth. He was eager to climb into her coils when she plucked out the seed of his agony.
Her tongue wrapped around it, pulling it back behind her fangs. She broke their lip-lock, ending a kiss that left Regis panting. He tried to follow, to reclaim her mouth when a clawed forefinger pressed down. He peered into large yellow eyes with a thick cat-like pupil. A long nose with a wide bridge and small nostrils flared, catching the muskiness of his arousal.
The corner of the gorgon's mouth twitched. She turned, arching a scaled eyebrow when Dettlaff cursed. He shifted his feet, uncomfortable being around Regis. He could smell his packmate's arousal too. The gorgon smirked, turning back to her prize. The serpentine coils of her hair rubbed against his cheeks and temples.
She had to coax the snakes to leave him. The boldest sliding around his neck and shoulders. Possessive. Regis was reluctant for them to part. The gorgon felt the slide of his fingers upon her bare back. He was trying to find purchase, his fingers scrabbling on the slick surface of her scales.
That she was wet and dripping didn't bother him at all.
"No", he whined when she tried to pull away.
She smiled at him with a flash of white fangs. The pale lid of a nictating membrane sliding across the ball of her eye. She fluttered her lashes at him, leaning inwards to kiss the corner of his mouth. She retreated when he groaned in disappointment. He couldn't bring himself to allow her to withdraw until Dettlaff hissed.
"Let her go!"
"But we've not been properly introduced".
Dettlaff gave him a dry look, unimpressed by his lack of maturity. "You're fawning over her like a fledgling barely passed his first century. It's embarrassing. You are four hundred and thirty five years old. Show some dignity".
Regis would've retorted if he hadn't seen the corner of the gorgon's mouth curve upward. She smiled with an air of satisfaction. She didn't think he had a whole lot of self-control either. He extricated himself from her with great reluctance, wondering if he'd been bewitched. He was certain a gorgon could mesmerise their prey with a look.
Or did that have something to do with petrification?
She gave him a teasing wink, sliding a coil of her body under his legs. He fell backward with a cry, finding himself caught and cradled. She carried him forwards, moving as she slithered towards Dettlaff. The muscles beneath her scales bunching and loosening like a spring. She paused before him, holding out her clawed fingers.
Dettlaff shared a concerned look with Regis. The nest of writhing snakes upon her head hissed at him in remonstration. Dettlaff was discomforted by the sound of their displeasure. He offered the gorgon his hands, claws shrinking until his nails were short and blunted. There were traces of dried blood on the tips of his fingers.
He was anxious when she inspected his hands. Her tongue darted out from between her lips to taste the air. The forked tip curled inwards as if it clutched something. Dettlaff frowned when he saw it, though he didn't comment when that tongue disappeared. She gave him a stern look, scaled brows furrowing as she released his hands.
She turned away, grasping his forearm. The leather of his jacket prevented her from scratching him, though it did nothing to break her hold. She was stronger than he expected as she surged forwards.
Dettlaff skidded, heels scraping the cavern floor. He was dragged off his feet.
The gorgon didn't let him regain his balance. He fell as Regis had into the coils of her body. She ferried him to the water's edge, pausing at the place where she'd emerged. The rocky ledge dipped down into the pool, the slope steepening further into the murky depths.
"Does she intend to drown us?" asked Regis.
Dettlaff regarded the gorgon with genuine curiosity. "No. She wants to show us something".
He was quiet when she leaned over, lowering a clawed hand into the water. She swished her fingers about then looked back at Dettlaff. She released his arm, gesturing to the pool. He nodded when the coil cradling him brought him forward. It was clear that she didn't want him to stand, the ground wet and slippery underfoot.
Her scales could better grip the stone.
"Dettlaff?" called Regis. "What does she want?"
"An answer", he replied with certainty.
He lowered his hands into the water. He washed the blood from his fingers, frowning when it came away in a gush of scarlet. The gorgon's eyes narrowed. Dettlaff saw her lips part then a flash of her forked tongue unfurling. The thing she'd plucked from Regis' mouth fell into the water with a splash.
"Nothing happened".
"Patience, Regis".
A heartbeat then two and that ribbon of crimson burst into flame. The pool's surface was calm though underwater the current roiled. Its colour changing from red to a ghoulish emerald-green that shed sparks. The gorgon hissed, forked tongue rolling out from behind her fangs. She waved a hand across the water, murmuring a phrase in a language neither of them understood.
It wasn't the common-tongue or the lyrical syllables of the Elder Speech.
It was older, stranger, and rolled off the tongue like velvet.
They saw the results of her spell. It filled the water in a flash of red, swirling amidst the green like dye. An image formed in the murk, growing clearer by the moment. The gorgon waved her hand over the pool. A face coalesced, followed by a pair of large emerald eyes beneath silver brows.
"That's the woman I saw!" exclaimed Dettlaff.
Regis stared. "Who is she?"
"I don't know, but I will find out".
She was indeed elven with her pointed ears. Although she was unlike any elf Regis had ever seen. There was nothing Aen Seidhe about the bronze of her skin. Her features were finer than those of the elves from the Continent. The lines of her face more angular, the curves of her cheeks rounder and sharper. Her brows were high and thin, the bridge of her nose long and wide.
A luscious mouth curved into a smile.
"You said that she had hair like moonlight", called Regis. "I see that you weren't waxing lyrical for the sake of it, my friend. She has silver hair, a trait most exotic even among the Aen Seidhe. It's rarer then hen's teeth, but those eyes are indeed like emeralds. If not for the tan of her skin, I might have mistaken her for Cirilla".
That caught Dettlaff's attention. "Your Witcher's adopted daughter?"
"Yes, though from a distance she could pass for a double of Lara Dorren. The match is inexact. The Aen Seidhe look more human. She is not one of them, though she is an elf. Her eyes and ears are too large, her features too fine".
"I see the difference, which can only mean one thing".
Regis nodded. "She's from another world".