The Inquisition's party made steady progress through the Fallow Mire, although somewhat slow due to the inclement weather and – not to be forgotten – the onslaught of corpses that tried to kill them every time they stepped near the water.
It didn't take long for them to figure out the correlation between disturbing the water and being harassed by the dead, mostly thanks to the bald mage with the annoying voice that narrated even the most obvious of moments.
What the Inquisition party was not aware of yet were the 2 pairs of eyes watched them with intent - every step they took through the Mire.
The first pair of eyes were sharp and blue, belonging to a blonde-haired mage, nearing her 30s, wearing Avvar armor. Her pale skin was covered in dirt and grime and her matted hair was pulled back, on one side, with braids that she'd put in days ago.
Breyhain had been tracking the party's progress since before they'd even entered the Mire. As a former member of the Avvar tribe, she knew the terrain better than the Inquisition party and could stay out of eyesight and earshot, with only a few close calls – mostly thanks to the dark-haired warrior woman who was, it seemed, constantly vigilant.
The second pair of eyes, soft and golden, belonged to Breyhain's companion: a large, gray dog with a shaggy coat, long muzzle, and upright, feathered ears. At least, that's what any onlooker would have described him as. The truth of the matter – which could be noted in the dog's watchful, knowing stare – was much more complicated. He was a spirit, of some sort, which had attached itself to Breyhain during a misadventure in the Fade when the girl had been very small. While Breyhain fixated on the Inquisition party, Ivaldr, the dog, watched the rest of the environment, ensuring the two of them slipped past any undead, wandering Avvar, or other mishaps that would have given away their position or caused them to lose track of the group.
Breyhain's buckskin boots fell on the soft earth with hardly a sound, but she couldn't be sure if that was due to her own dexterity or some magic cast over her by Ivaldr – the full breadth of the dog's magic was still somewhat of a mystery to her.
Whatever the cause, she had been trailing the party for nearly 3 days now and had managed to evade being caught. Her gaze, however, constantly remained on the warrior. In Breyhain's mind, this woman was the only one to worry about. The other three were, for all their other skills, not the most observant. The male elf spent most of his time talking to the other elf mage about nothing of particular relevance. The other mage (the so-called Herald, perhaps?) spent most of her time trying to avoid conversations with him, it seemed. The dwarf appeared to be the only one to successfully engage her in conversation. When he wasn't bothering her, he was busy trying to irritate the warrior, who he referred to only as "Seeker."
The Seeker, however, watched. Constantly. Breyhain was not sure she'd ever seen her truly rest, as the woman was constantly on guard. There were a few times she swore the Seeker had looked directly at her, for a few moments, then looked back away. Breyhain again wondered if it was some spirit magic from Ivaldr that kept her from being discovered.
Breyhain watched the warrior, as she made careful steps in pursuit of the group, trailing them from some 50 feet behind. Even if the Seeker hadn't been Breyhain's biggest concern, it was probable she would have watched her anyway. The woman had a certain softness to her face, but her gaze held an intense fierceness, in a way that was curious and fascinating. In battle, she was a force of nature, drawing a majority of their foes' attacks toward herself, and yet she managed to block, return, or redirect almost every blow sent her way. She was the brawn of the group – that much was clear – but it would be a mistake to discount her intelligence. She clearly had a sharp mind, not to mention her skills of observation and perception. Every movement she made, in battle or otherwise, appeared perfectly calculated. Even in rage, she maintained control.
Breyhain was in awe of her – but also feared her. If she were to be found out, how could she possibly convince this woman that her intention was to help?
Breyhain's only goal was to help the Inquisition get its soldiers back. That fool who called himself the Hand of Korth, Movran's idiot son, should never have taken them in the first place. Still, every time Breyhain had tried to step forward, make her presence known, and explain how she could help, she'd been unable to go through with it. Years of traveling in the mountains alone had left her rather socially inept and she found she had no idea how she could even begin to explain her situation. How could she explain that she'd been a member of Movran's clan, then disgraced, now living as a wanderer, a monster slayer, in the mountains, with a spirit dog as her guide? How could she explain learning of the Inquisition, of their mission, learning of their soldiers' capture by her former clanmate, and her subsequent decision to free the soldiers?
Undoubtedly, a more gifted speaker could come up with a clever way to explain her position and sway the Inquisition to let her help, but Breyhain was no such person.
And, thus far, the Inquisition didn't seem to need her help. There had been a few close calls with the undead but, for the most part, the party had been progressing rather well through the Fallow Mire. But, Breyhain was ready at a moment's notice to step in and help them fight. They would surely need it when they faced the so-called Hand of Korth.
As nightfall began to creep in, Breyhain's eyes remained on the warrior, watching as the group started to make camp for the night. Unable to make her own fire, for fear of giving away her position, Breyhain set out her bedroll and laid down upon it, her muscles complaining slightly from a long day of walking in a low crouch. Ivaldr stayed sitting upright, his eyes and ears alert for any trouble. He would keep the first watch while Breyhain slipped into sleep.
Ash didn't want to see one more corpse. She couldn't handle that place much longer. She tried to hold herself high considering she was the one that vehemently advocated to go there. The tenseness of the dynamic in the group grated on a journey already made painful by the disgusting environment.
"May I find you in the Fade tonight, Herald?" Solas asked.
She jumped. She turned away from her tent to look at him. "I think I may need the alone time, actually."
"May I ask you something?"
She sighed. "It seems like you may do so no matter what I say."
He chuckled, then his face turned serious again. "Is everything okay? You seem agitated."
"I'm fine," she said. "It's just been...a hard trip."
He took a step forward, closing the space between them. "You and Seeker… I've sensed some tension." It was strange how he so easily sensed that tension, but not her distance from him. Perhaps he did and refused to accept it. Why wouldn't he, though? He made it clear he was unimpressed by her "kind". She clenched her fists closed, digging her fingernails into her palms.
"Yes, well, we had a bit of a disagreement. She would prefer I be speaking with the Chantry right now."
"I'm surprised you changed any of your advisors' minds about such a thing."
"My advisors? I'm not in charge of anything here. I barely know what's going on. Anyways, I didn't really need to change their minds, did I? I have the freedom to do as I please."
"Do you really believe that is true?" he asked.
She huffed. "It doesn't matter. Sister Leliana and the Commander already agreed with me, anyways. Cassandra was outvoted."
The Commander was impossible to understand. It made her head hurt. And the way she spoke to him before the meeting...what was wrong with her? She blushed just thinking about it. There were feelings inside her that complicated her rage. Her compassion, her willingness to forgive, and something else, too. Something she refused to think about.
The Gallows still pained her. He was there and did nothing until it was too late for so many. Who he had changed into didn't erase any of that.
"A templar and a sister against the request for the aid from the Chantry? Strange." Ex-templar.
"Perhaps it was pragmatic. The Chantry does wish to see me dead," she suggested.
"Perhaps, though maybe there is a pragmatic argument in attempting a conversation with them, as well."
She moved backwards to her tent. "Solas, if you don't mind, it's been a long day."
"Of, course, Herald. My apologies. Sleep well." He smiled, giving her a small nod.
Ash entered her tent. She took a few deep breaths, relaxing her body. She had to let the irritation - the anger - go, before she fell asleep. Speak with the Chantry? She could not see any argument resembling practicality. She removed the soiled, stinking clothes, prying them off her aching body.
For some reason, the Commander floated in her head moments before she faded into sleep. Her friends in the Circle...what would they think? The way he twisted around her head - and not usually as the monster or villain anymore. Varric and Cassandra had implanted these inklings of care for him. When she looked at him, she saw softness and regret. And she wanted to forgive him.
Her eyes opened in the Beyond. She hadn't heard the whispers in five days. There was a chart in her mind where she marked her progress, her successes, and her failings. There were relapses in her progress, but she felt confident. She'd never been this okay. Around her, the encampment of her clan formed. She listened to the distant, muffled voices of the past. She wandered among them, enjoying the sound and sight of home.
She sensed a strange energy. At first, she assumed it was Solas. But, no. It was different. Solas' spirit felt ancient and confident while in the Fade. It moved loudly through the scapes. No, this one was something else. Ash let her spirit drift to it.
A woman stood in her own world. She held her own magic, differently trained and a clearly untamed connection to the Beyond. Ash felt drawn to it, comforted by its similarities to Dalish magic. Curious, she drew closer to the woman. "Hello!" Ash called out, keeping a safe distance. The woman turned, immediately alert. The woman looked to be an Avvar.
Ash took a step back, now on her guard. "Who are you?"
The woman blinked at her. "My name is Breyhain," she answered, slowly.
"You must be nearby. Why? Are you following us?"
Ash tried to remain calm, breathing deeply. This shemlen clan wanted to kill her. They had taken Inquisition soldiers. Part of her feared this was just a demon, cleverly disguised. The largest part of her wanted to get to know her magic, though. She wanted to understand it, but this fear built inside her again. Even if this woman was a real mage, she was a shemlen from a tribe that wanted her dead. Like the Chantry wanted her dead. Like so many shemlens did.
"I'm…" She stopped mid sentence, then started again. "I'm here to help you; I'm… a friend to the Inquisition."
"Why do you want to help us?" Ash interrogated. "You'd really betray your clan for strangers?"
"They are no longer my clan... Not only because they cast me out years ago, but because they have lost their way." She continued to speak slowly, appearing to draw the words out with some difficulty. "Movran's son would hold your people hostage, to challenge you, because your beliefs differ from his. What kind of sense does that make?" Breyhain's jaw clenched, starting to speak more quickly. "The world is falling apart and your Inquisition appears to be the only thing trying to do something about it. So I will help you."
Ash took it all in with great difficulty. The woman was struggling, but it didn't seem to be due to any lack of honesty. Ash wondered if her curiosity was getting the better of her again, but she wanted to believe the story. If only to have another mage in the Inquisition, another apostate, even a shemlen one, she would convince herself to believe.
"I believe you," Ash said softly.
Breyhain nodded, but appeared not to know what to say in return. Ash studied the woman. She smiled excitedly. "You have very interesting magic, you know that? I've never met an Avvar mage before. Well, I've never met any Avvar before now."
The Avvar woman thought for a long moment, before replying: "We Avvar are not bothered by any Circles or templars that harass mages of your people. I suppose… it makes sense that our magic might develop differently."
"If you are all alone out here, why don't you come with us?" Ash asked, maintaining a bright smile. "I mean, after we get the soldiers back and all that fun. The Inquisition has a base in the Frostbacks. It's terrible and freezing, but you should come. Check it out, at least."
Breyhain's brow furrowed, regarding the other mage with some suspicion. "Why?" she asked. "You don't know anything about me."
Ash studied the other woman's suspicion with curiosity. She answered thoughtfully. "I believe our best chance at sealing that tear in the sky is with mages. My desire to do that outweighs my suspicions. You also...interest me, in many different ways. I'm sure there's much I could learn from you, if you're willing."
Breyhain's eyebrows remained furrowed, though her stance seemed to soften. "And what of the others? I can't imagine they would be too eager to have an… Avvar apostate join their cause."
"Sure, it will take some convincing, but we need all the help we can get. I'm an apostate, so is Solas, and they haven't killed us, yet."
Ash began to think it a challenge to lessen Breyhain's suspicions. She understood them well, likely even better. When she first began at the Inquisition, she expected to be locked away and watched constantly. Sometimes she still expected it to happen.
The woman still seemed hesitant. "There are… templars among your cause?"
The Commander was the first face that crossed her mind. He wasn't in the Gallows this time, though. He circled her mind, laughing at the Chancellor's indignation. Blushing fiercely at her teasing. He was not a templar any longer, for some reason. Not in her mind. He had been a templar, though. Just because she hadn't seen him often while trapped in that place didn't make it any less true. He was there. He had hurt people. He had probably killed people like her without a second thought. Could you really change that much? From someone like that?
She focused on the woman again, reapplying herself to the task at hand. "Templars do make up some of the soldiers, yes. I struggle with it at times, but you officially have full Herald-given rights to torment them. It's how I make it through my days with them around."
The slightest hint of a smile flickered across Breyhain's face and perhaps, even, the smallest trace of a laugh. "I do like the sound of that."
Ash smiled in return. "You can do a lot of good with us. There isn't much more for you in this swamp, is there?"
"No." She cast a glance backwards. "And Ivaldr hates it here."
Ash noticed a connection, some sort of tether connecting this woman to something or someone else. She noticed something similar with Solas and the Spirit of Wisdom. It was much stronger...different in this woman's case, though. The other thing connected to the tether didn't seem to be in the Beyond. The light went from her and into the ground, fading into the soil the woman had created.
Breyhain disappeared before Ash could reply. She seemed to be startled awake. Her body suddenly gone and her dream world fading away with her. Ash willed herself awake, curious to the nature of her disappearance. In a place full of corpses, it couldn't have been anything good.
Upon waking, she heard commotion. She slowly pushed herself to sit up as it grew louder. Her body was sore, her eyes still burning to close again. Barking began, along with a chorus of her companions yelling. She jumped up and threw on her coat.
"Herald!" Varric called out. "Can we get some divine intervention out here?"
It was still dark out. She stepped out of the tent in the comfort of her nightwear hidden by a soiled coat. In front of her was the woman from the Beyond, laying across the mud. Cassandra held a sword to Breyhain's neck, while holding a shield to prevent a dog from latching onto her. Ash noticed the dog to be the spirit Breyhain was tethered to, magical energy pouring out of him like a fountain. Meanwhile, Varric was playing the buffer. He stood between Cassandra and the woman. Solas was trying to command Cassandra to put the sword away without success.
"That's enough!" Ash yelled over the commotion. "I know this woman."
Everyone looked at her. She kept her eyes on Cassandra, particularly the arm holding the sword. Cassandra's sword trembled.
"You what?" Cassandra growled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."
"Yes, because obviously all apostates know each other, Seeker," Solas said.
"Now is not the time, Chuckles," Varric muttered under his breath.
Ash took a step forward. "Listen, Cassandra. She's here to help. Please, trust me." She looked at Cassandra pleadingly. Cassandra glanced over a few times before letting her eyes rest on Ash. She searched her face. Then, her sword fell to her side. The dog - the spirit? - relaxed, rushing to Breyhain's side. The tension in the air shifted to a strange sort of silence.
Cassandra sighed. "Okay, Herald. You get to explain this to the others at Haven, though." She reached out a hand abruptly to Breyhain. The dog growled at first, but at Breyhain's own acceptance of the hand, he relaxed.
Varric smiled brightly. "Well, tell Curly she has a dog. It'll soften the blow."
Ash cringed at the thought of that conversation. She turned to Breyhain. The woman stood awkwardly, eyes focused on Cassandra. Ash gave a tight-lipped smile. "Well, welcome to the Inquisition."