Chapter 108: More than Faith
"What was it like, coming to the urn?"
Alim rolled his eyes and counted to ten. Since their return from the temple, Brother Genitivi had not stopped asking questions. He did not mind questions normally, but the scholar wanted to know everything that had happened. He wanted to hear everything.
That fact…was more than a little annoying.
He was currently digging through a pile of clothes they had found in one of the cultists' old bunk rooms. He had hoped to find something here that might serve as armor as they made their way back to Redcliffe. The thought of returning to help the Arl looking like some elven beggar did not appeal to him. Unfortunately, there were few clothes here that would fit an elf, much less one of his stature.
The warden snorted.
If these ashes worked, he would not face the Arl in the clothes of a human teenager, he would not!
The group made camp in the lowest hall of the temple, the one closest to the door leading back down to the village of Haven, of the remaining villagers they heard no more, perhaps they had all scattered to the winds, fractured by the loss of their leader and god. Still the mages took no chances; they set wards near the entrance and in any tunnels that might have hidden passages leading outside. After what the group had faced on the mountain's summit, no one wished to be attacked by surprise in their sleep.
The group that had accompanied Alim into the Gauntlet had little to say upon their return. What they had seen, what they had faced and done, everyone seemed have slipped into a silent reflection. For the true believers among them, it must have seemed like the trials had been ordained, they had found Andraste's final resting place, and retrieved a pinch of the ashes. So many had sought to do the same and failed, but now…now…
Perhaps Wynne had said it best.
"I will never forget this moment, may we all never forget this day, the day we accomplished the impossible."
Alim had not known what to expect when he finally reached the ashes. He remembered ascending the dais on which they sat. The small stone urn, so intricately carved was a work of art in itself. He have expected to feel some…well…religious jolt from the prophet's final resting place, but surprisingly he felt nothing, Well…almost nothing. As a mage he could sense the urn, the power hidden in its contents. It…it felt like the embers of a fire, ready to burst into a warm soothing flame on a cold winter night.
He carefully lifted the lid, and took a pinch of the ashes, not a small pinch, but one that would hopefully serve his needs. He was guessing that the Guardian did not mind because the ancient warrior did not appear to pin him with an angry frown.
The elf took that as a good thing.
They had enough for the Arl, and for Theron as well, Alim had given his fellow warden his word.
He would not forsake him.
He was pleased, they had found the urn, and if it lived up to its reputation, they now had a means to cure Arl Eamon. It was just another objective in his eyes.
For some of his companions, it was clearly more than that, his lover especially, not that he was surprised by that.
Leliana had fallen to her knees and prayer when she stood before the ashes. He made no attempt to stop her; such was his love and respect for her. Alistair was in awe, pretty much speechless, not that Alim blamed him, being a chanty boy and all. Wynne and Fergus had bowed their heads in respect. Kally and Theron had said nothing, choosing to merely watch curiously. The Dalish made no apologies for worshiping the elven gods, and Kally had never discussed her own views on faith. Oghren had stood back and took a long hard pull on the flask he carried. Alim had almost asked if he might have a drink himself.
The warden mage shook his head. He was still trying to digest what he had seen.
He was still not sure if he believed it, perhaps he would never be able to come to terms with it later. Maybe that was just the way it was.
He was not one of the faithful.
He never would be.
IOI
He had watched Leliana walk into the flames with his heart in his throat. He had watched the flames consume her, and then…then…
He had watched her emerge unscathed on the other side.
He had sighed with relief, and tried to call out to her, but she just stood there, her eyes closed, her hands limp at her side. He had not hesitated; he stripped off his borrowed cloak and his ragged armor.
He had followed her into the flames. It…it had been a strange experience.
When he had stood outside the fire, it felt as hot as an oven, hotter than the circle kitchens on a feast day. Yet no sooner had he entered the flames, as he felt them wash over him…all that changed.
It felt…it felt…soft, the light soothed his eyes, the heat had diminished, it had become like the soft touch a mother, a bed with new silk sheets. He felt the burns he had received from the dragon fade. The flames were like a balm, healing his skin and restoring his strength.
It was…interesting.
You have passed the trials of the gauntlet; the words he heard in his ears belonged to the guardian even though he did not see the old warrior.
The words were gentle and warm, it…it sounded as if the guardian was in tears, why that might be he could not say…
You have walked the path of Andraste, and like her, you…have been cleansed!
He thought he heard a pleased chuckle, but he might have been wrong. When the guardian spoke again there was no doubt of the pride in his voice.
You have proven yourself worthy, pilgrim, approach the sacred ashes.
IOI
"Master elf?"
Alim woke from his musings; Brother Genitivi was still sitting beside him and Bandit, the scholar's eyes burned with expectations, waiting to hear what happened next.
One thing you have to give the old duffer, he thought, you have to respect his zeal.
"Please, ser," Genitivi repeated, "You must tell me what it was like."
Alim sighed.
"It was grueling," he said, "There were challenges we had to face, but once we were through them…we…I…"
"Yes?" Genitivi said.
"Yes?"
Alim fought the urge to roll his eyes.
What did the scholar want from him?
He caught Alistair and Wynne watching him; no doubt they wondered if he shared their joy of this experience, finding the impossible and all.
He realized that he could speak candidly, or speak as the leader of this company of theirs.
He chose to speak as a leader.
"Nothing has ever touched me so deeply," he replied.
That statement seemed to appeal to the true believers among them. Leliana likely would have approved as well, but she was currently missing from the group, they had found a small hot spring fed pool in one of the nearby tunnels, they were currently using it to get cleaned up.
Alim wished that Kally would hurry back, so that he could escape the faithful surrounding him.
He was starting to feel like a hypocrite.
You are a very lucky person," Genitivi gushed, "And so am I, surely the chantry will not see my research on the urn as heresy now. There is so much history here, it must be studied, and pilgrims should be allowed to come here to see the urn and pay homage to our prophet!"
Behind him Morrigan laughed, the witch leaned against one of the stone pillars. A cruel smirk graced her pretty face.
"Indeed scholar," she purred, "and eventually, the discovery of this place will be exploited by the rich and powerful, and in time they will find a way to increase their strangle hold on this world even more because of it. Tis a most charitable thing we have done today, there is no question about that."
Alistair glared at his lover; she gave him a fierce grin in return. Finally, he snorted and looked away.
Genitivi frowned but said nothing; the man was no innocent babe. He knew that some of what Morrigan said was true.
Alim sighed.
Where some saw a miracle, others saw an opportunity.
The elf fingered the pouch on his belt; he could feel the magic within the ashes, old and powerful. He had never heard of such items taking on magical properties, but this entire temple was something beyond his experience. In fact it went beyond anything seen in the modern ages.
Could it cure the Arl? It was possible, Leliana would no doubt call it the power of the Maker, and he would not dispute her in this. Her faith was part of what defined her; he loved her for it, and would not mock her beliefs.
A true believer would call what they had faced a matter of faith, but he suspected something else as well, something more.
Alim knew what he had seen and what he had felt in the temple. He had spoken a bit with Morrigan since his return to camp and she suspected that he might be right. He had come up with several ideas to explain what he had seen in this place. He also had spoken a bit to Seri and Oghren since they had returned. The two dwarves had their own opinion about the temple. Their dwarven stone sense gave them an interesting perspective on what their little group had faced within the temple of sacred ashes.
They shared a theory about everything they had faced the last few days. Alim not wanting to sound like a complete and utter heretic kept it to himself, but it was something that he at least felt he had to consider.
Andraste's followers had not chosen the site for this temple simply because it was beautiful. He suspected that they had had another motive in mind. Both the dwarves could sense it, there were several almost pure veins of lyrium running through the mountains here, far more pure than anything the dwarves had seen in the mines of Orzammar for a very long time, or so Seri and Oghren both claimed.
Alim's ears twitched.
He was willing to guess that at least some of Andraste's followers had been mages, converts drawn by both her charisma and will. After all, not all mages in the Imperium were Magisters, the elves had always had magic and no doubt there had been more than a few slaves who possessed it as well, the result of forced dalliances with their masters and their allies. These mages would have had as much reason to see the Imperium overthrown as anyone else and likely would have aided Andraste in her cause. The stories of these people had been left that out of the texts of course, given the whole, magic is to serve and not rule thing. If there had been any passages about mage disciples in the chant of light they had probably never been recorded by the chantry or erased long ago as heresy. Alim, knowing what he knew about the history of Shartan, felt that highly likely. Some of these mage disciples likely survived the betrayal in Tevinter had helped the legendary Havard smuggle the ashes out of Tevinter and made their way here. They later interbred with their fellow survivors, that would also explain the blood mages he had seen serving in the disciples of Andraste, the work of those ancient mages had left their mark here, he was sure of it.
Faith alone had not sustained this place.
The Guardian, the gauntlet, the magical flames that protected the urn, had not been brought into being by simple faith. He had seen the writing on the stone walls, what had been inscribed on the stone floors of the temple. He suspected, though he could not prove it, that these words were part of some type of magical wards, that they were part of ancient protective spells that had since been lost to time. Elven perhaps or simple some type of shamanistic or Tevinter magic that had since been abandoned.
Andraste's followers would have taken no chances with the Magisters of Tevinter. They knew what their enemy was capable of, and likely would have taken steps to preserve the remains of their prophet.
Those wards were likely used to focus the magic from the lyrium running like blood through the mountains around the temple, no doubt using the magic in the very rock to power those ancient spells. After so many millennia, the wards had no doubt taken on functions that the designers likely could not have dreamed of, so much power; it had to have changed them at least to some degree. In fact he suspected that the lyrium had changed everything.
He had never heard of humans living so close to this much lyrium for so long, what the guardian became was likely a side effect of that. As for the ashes, being surrounded by such powerful magic for so long, how could anything not absorb at least some of the power running through the stones that made up that temple?
The elf shook his head.
Genitivi and the others would likely not agree with that assessment, no matter what the dwarves said. Wynne, with her spirit of faith passenger, would not either, the being inside the old woman was no doubt feeding on the well spring of faith just being here caused, it would have no reason to disapprove of any of the legends about this place.
Alim sighed again.
Perhaps he was just too cynical.
Regardless he was pleased with what they had accomplished.
He glanced up when he saw Kally finally return. Not waiting for one of the others to take the initiative he rose and made for the chamber that contained the spring.
He looked down at the too long shirt he was wearing, it stank of incense, and dragon, or perhaps that was just him, he was after all still covered in the grime of this place, still dirty from the long fight that had brought them to the ashes.
It…would be nice to be clean again, to be able to rest here and not worry about reaching a near impossible goal.
In the morning they would need to begin their trek back to Redcliffe.
Then…the real work would begin.
IOI
The water from the spring was quite warm and refreshing, after so many nights of rinsing in frigid pond it was a luxury that was not only to be enjoyed but savored.
Leliana smiled as she removed her vest and gloves. She was surprised by the amount of dirt, blood, and ash that coated her pale skin. She dipped her hands into the hot water, and began eagerly working on removing the grime. After so many weeks of travel and mental hardship, she was grateful to finally be able to let down her burdens.
But it is more than that, she thought, more than simple diversion, you have seen Andraste's sacred ashes…
The bard practically beamed.
After such an honor, what else could compare?
She hated to admit it, but part of her worried that she would not have been able to pass safely through the flames of the final challenge. That the Maker would find her unworthy, a pretender at best a liar at least, yet she had not hesitated, not after what the guardian had said to her in the beginning.
"In Orlais, you were someone. In Lothering, you feared you would become a drab sister and disappear, you secretly liked the attention you gained from your peers, even if it was negative."
The guardian's words had angered her, she knew what she believed, she never claimed to be Andraste's equal, but she did not dispute her visions, what she had seen.
What do you believe?
She paused.
It was a good question, one that she had not ever asked herself. She believed that the Maker revealed himself in the beauty of his world. She believed that the visions she had been given were words spoken directly to her soul, whether they came from the Maker personally, or one of the spirits that served his will, she could not say.
She pursed her lips.
She was not Andraste. She had never claimed to be her equal. What she was…was a weapon, a bow turned against the Maker's enemies. The Blight needed to be opposed and she would do it. Helping the dwarves and mages, saving the Dalish from Zathrian's curse, now finding the ashes of Andraste, certainly this was more than simple coincidence, surely this had to be ordained?
By being in Lothering, she had been exactly where the Make had needed her to be. He had brought Alim and Alistair into Dane's Refuge the day they had all met. What had come later, what…what she and Alim had shared. It had given her a strength she had not known that she even had possessed.
He gave her that strength.
She splashed hot water on her shoulders, letting it run down her chest, dampening her silken undershirt. She pulled it over her head, letting the water run down her chest.
She heard a polite cough behind her.
She quickly moved to cover her bare breasts, but paused when she saw it was only Alim, the elf had a shy smile on his face, his ears a little pink at having walked in on her in a state of undress.
She smiled at let her hands fall away.
He smirked.
"Not feeling modest today?" he inquired.
She laughed lightly.
"It is not like you have not seen me naked before, dearest."
He chuckled and joined her beside the pool; he stripped off the shirt he was wearing, revealing his slender yet muscled chest.
She pretended not to notice, but was not above enjoying the view.
Alim was not just her love, but a dear friend as well.
She was grateful that they could be so comfortable together.
She splashed water on her shoulders again hoping to let the water run down and clean her back. The elf seemed to have read her mind because he pulled out a small cloth and gently began scrubbing her lower back.
His gentle touch made her shiver with pleasure; she could feel the gooseflesh on her arms.
She took his hand in hers, and kissed the pads of his fingertips. She heard him sigh, yet he continued washing her back.
"I'm trying to work here, you know," he purred.
She gave him a wicked smile.
"Do not let me stop you," she answered.
"Temptress," he said with a smirked.
She giggled and turned to face him; she dipped into the pool with a cloth of her own and began washing him, his face his chest, his ears.
The elf groaned in pleasure.
When his eyes met hers, they were dark with barely controlled passion.
"We should not start something we can't finish," he reminded her, "the others are not far off after all."
"True," she agreed, "But they would not be surprised, after everything that has happened. Even Morrigan seems grateful to be back at Alistair's side."
He leaned in and kissed her nose. She responded by leaning in and kissing him on the lips, chastely at first, but then…with a bit more heat.
The spark caught, and ignited a fire.
She knew they should stop, but after the dragon and everything else they had faced these last few days.
He did not seem to have the courage or the will to, and to be honest...
Neither did she.
IOI
His hand drifted up her thigh, sliding up under her skirt. Leliana moaned into his shoulder, kissing and nipping at his skin.
"Lim," she moaned, "Ooh! Maker! YESSSS!"
He gestured to the entrance; a magical barrier now blocked it just in case.
He pulled her down onto her cloak, she sighed in sweet surrender. He had not planned this, but now that they were here.
He could not think of a reason why not.
"What…what about the others," she panted, "some of them might want to use…use...ooh!"
He grinned wolfishly.
"I'll apologize in the morning," he promised.
She giggled, enjoying their revels.
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission, no?" she cooed in a husky voice.
Her love chuckled pulling down his leggings.
"Exactly, my love," he murmured, before losing himself to her completely.
"Exactly so."
A/N: I'm back! I had been a busy couple of days. I hope to get caught up on my stories, next chapter we head back to Redcliffe, but not before trouble comes to call. My thanks to all my readers that keep leaving reviews, you are my fuel and my motivation, until next chapter!
DG