a/n- So, I am posting this chapter for you guys because I felt it reached a natural stopping point for it. I didn't want to push myself to add more because I don't believe in pushing stories (or chapters) past where they should really end just for length. Anyway, I'm not super thrilled with this, but as usual, if you are, let me know with a little review. I hope that you enjoy it anyway!
More Than Just A Rebellion
The Inquisition's small forces arrived only a small while later but it was a relief to Enya and her companions when they could finally leave the desolate camp behind and move on to their intended destination. That was the thing about death and killing, Enya was beginning to realize. Though she felt the guilt as an immediate burden upon her, her companions, more used to this line of work seemed only to notice it in the silence that followed if they lingered.
In the time that they sat at the Templar camp's entrance, Varric had grown quiet, his bravado subsiding into a cloying silence. Cassandra, though commonly very active, became more so. As they waited the warrior paced, her jaw set in a tense line. Solas perched himself on a rock apart from the rest of the group and although this was not terribly unusual of him. His lack of observations about their behavior left a tangible void. When their relief finally appeared on the road in the form of a small mixture of Hinterlands and Inquisition soldiers, the group moved together to meet them at the road and after a quick explanation from Cassandra, they left.
Redcliffe Farms rested in the valley of some of the larger hills of the Hinterlands. Though those that surrounded the small settlement were nowhere near as tall or as craggy as the Frostbacks, they could easily qualify as mountains, with their climbing slopes and skyward reaching peaks. The farms themselves sprawled out haphazardly across the valley, as though they had been accidentally put there. They very likely had. She smiled at the sight of the druffalo grazing in their small pastures, the lawns of wheat and barley stretching out across the ground before them. She spotted the horses from a long way off. Master Dennets herd was indeed quite grand, at least from this distance. They wandered in the direction of what appeared to be the largest farmhouse in the dell.
There were stallions in the stable next to the house, all tall, all bay with white faces and fierce eyes. Enya smiled as she saw a girl galloping through the fields on one of them, moving at a breakneck pace. The little group passed the barn and moved up the curving path to the house. A woman tended the garden outside. She wore a chainmail apron tied to her cloth tunic that matched her steely hair. Enya approached her.
"Would you happen to know where I might find Master Dennet?"
"Ha!" the elderly woman let out a course laugh and rose from the garden to face them properly. She did so carefully, as though her knees and back did not want to unfold, "I should hope I could tell you. He's my husband, afterall." Her dark eyes narrowed, "What is it that you want with him?"
Enya stepped forward into the garden, "We wished to speak with him about his horses. We're in need of better mounts for our…"
"You're with the Inquisition aren't you?" the woman interrupted.
"We are." The elf set her shoulders in response.
There seemed to be accusation, perhaps disapproval in the tone of the horsemaster's wife, "My husband and I have had many missives from your other agents since the destruction of the Conclave. I cannot speak for my husband, but I do not see why we should choose to support you with the source of our livelihood when we have stayed neutral in the rebellions thus far. You are no different. You expect us to help while you throw away the well-established ways of the world around us."
Enya bowed her head, "I could not, in good conscience ask someone to give up their livelihood for a whim," she met the challenge of the older woman's countenance with a raised chin and course eyes, "The Inquistion is not a rebellion, it is a response to the destruction of the order of Thedas. We fight because we must and because no one else will. Not because we have been wronged by a party. If we could win this war without spilling a drop of blood, I assure you, Mistress Dennet, we would."
Dennet's wife stared at her hard for several moments and then nodded, "I cannot be certain that was you say is the truth, elf, but you have conviction in your words and that must count for something," The elderly woman sighed, "Very well, it is not my decision, but my husbands. You'll find him in the main house. He was working on some charts of our breeding lines for next year. Not that we'll need them if our herd is to be sent off for your use."
Enya stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. The woman lifted her head in surprise.
The elf looked her directly in the eyes and stated with absolute certainty, "I can make you the promise that you will still have horses to care for even if you choose to aid the Inquisition. We could not take everything from your family."
Enya lowered her hand and stepped back. She met the eyes of her friends, starting out of the garden as she did so. They followed suit but at not made it far when the woman called after them.
"You're her aren't you?" she asked, stepping to the end of the fence after them, "The one they call the Herald of Andraste."
Enya turned back and met the woman's seeking gaze but it was Cassandra who responded for her.
"This is she," the Seeker confirmed and then moved on past the group with a curt nod to the older woman.
Enya followed suit, the bile of the lie sitting in her throat but she pushed it off. Such a thing was necessary to gaining favor for the Inquisition after all. The elf, Varric and Solas caught up with Cassandra as she knocked her armored fist against the resolute wooden door. It opened only moment later to reveal a man in the middle of his sixth decade with icy silver hair and strikingly blue eyes that contrasted brilliantly with his ruddy complexion. His clothes were simple, the kind one works in, but they were clearly tailor made for him. The life of a horsemaster in Ferelden or Orlais was a lucrative one given the quality of animal required for mounts.
"Horsemaster Dennet. My name is Cassandra Pentaghast. We've come on behalf of the Inquisition."
Cassandra approached him, a hand on the pommel of her sword. The discussion went on for a while, a long and careful negotiation. Enya was left feeling decidedly frustrated with the older man's logic as before with his wife. Master Dennet insisted that they ensure the safety of the farms and it became clear to the Inquisition party that he would not back down from his stance. As a leader of his isolated community he very clearly felt it was his obligation to protect its people.
Dennet implored them to speak with his people, asking that they ensure the farmer's safety before he gave his herd over to the Inquisition. They agreed, although Enya thought that Cassandra sounded reluctant. True, this was more work than they really needed but it was worth it to acquire the horses the Inquisition required and to improve the views of their order as a whole. She said as much when Cassandra commented on the tedium of the tasks.
Night had begun to fall as they retreated from the horsemaster's home. Their new horses were tied to the fence with rough rope and soft leather bridles. Each were saddled their russet bay coats glistening. Dennet's daughter Seanna stood next to them with pride in her eyes though Enya detected a wistful melancholy in them as well. It was easy to tell, from the smudges of dirt on her dark face to the strands of hay that clung to her hair and clothes, that she loved her charges.
"Do take care of them," she called after them as they mounted up in the half-light of sundown, "They are such good horses."
Enya was already to far away from the girl to say anything but as she turned, she watched Solas, who had yet to mount his horse, respond to the girl. It was not a long comment and Enya could make out little more than, "I will…over…friends" but from the girl's emotional display of gratitude, the meaning was easily discerned. The elf smiled and turned back to follow Cassandra down the path. Varric bounced along next to her, the trot they had taken up forcing a sneer onto his face.
They settled in for the night on the edge of a shallow water hole. As always, they slept under the stars on new bed rolls provided to them by the Inquisition scouts. Varric took up his usual stance, humming and talking intermittently and soon Enya found herself drifting off to the easy drone of his voice. Despite her early entrance into sleep, her night was fitful, restless. A few times she had even woken to the burning of her hand and wanted to scream, at first in pain and then in frustration, but she did not. Her companions deserved sleep.
Enya sat on the stump of a tree, one leg drawn up to her chest for her to rest on. She watched the sun rise over the hills that surrounded Redcliffe's Farms, and she sighed quietly to herself. The itch of sleep still plagued her eyes, but she knew that nothing would allow her any more than an hour of peace even if she tried.
"You are awake early."
Enya turned to look at Cassandra as the woman approached her perch. Her face was draw, despite her recent rest and the elf could see concern in the woman's eyes. When the Seeker had drawn level with her she nodded.
"I've always risen with the sun," Enya responded, "It is a wonderful way to start a day, to watch the sun rise."
"Indeed," Cassandra replied flatly, and Enya knew she had caught her lie, "You know, Herald, you might not be a bad diplomat, but you are a terrible liar."
The elf shifted, closing her hand into a fist against her stomach. Cassandra caught the motion and let out a long sigh.
"Your mark, it still troubles you?"
"Only when I am not occupied," She responded, and glanced down at it, flexing her and open and closed as light pulsed from it, "It was not to this extend until recently."
Cassandra turned to look back over her shoulder, "Have you spoken to Solas?"
"Once we spoke of it," Enya replied, "He believes the pain is tied to the tears in the veil, the rifts and the Breach." She paused, "I feel less pain when I have closed a rift recently."
"Then we shall find you a rift to close," There was such conviction in her words, Enya found herself slightly taken aback.
She pushed it off with a nod of thanks at the Inquisition's instigator. Cassandra settled onto the ground next to her, slowly, showing the toll her years as a warrior had taken on her. Enya had noticed a slight limp but she had never felt the need to ask of its origin. Though now, as the thought occurred to her, she found herself curious. Without looking she mused.
"Enough about my hand. It is an old topic that is long worn," she commented, "I noticed that you limp."
Cassandra raised an eyebrow, shock spreading across her face, "Goodness, is it that noticeable?"
The elf would have laughed if she hadn't taken into account just exactly how surprised and uncomfortable this revelation about the limp had made her companion. Cassandra had an untouchable, unbreakable air about her, but, Enya realized, deep down, perhaps very deep, there was still a person who was concerned about how other people saw her.
"No, not especially, but my mother was my Keeper of my Clan's second, a mage and healer. I learned very early how to notice when someone was hurting," She turned to Cassandra.
The warrior nodded slowly and then licked her lip, "I assume you were hoping for more than just my acknowledgement of an old injury?"
"Only if you don't mind," Enya replied.
Cassandra took a deep breath and set her shoulders, "I do not," she paused, "I've been a Seeker for most of my life, decades, in fact. I was tasked with several…difficult situations that required my skills. And I was happy to have them. Anyway, it does not really matter how I got there," she gestured impatiently, "I was in the Free Marches attempting to track down a group of Maleficarum, when I found myself in the company of a member of the Antivan Crows," she took a breath.
"And they are?" Enya asked, leaning forward.
"A league of assassins that originate in Antiva, but their influence is as widespread as their loyalty," Casandra shifted again, "He was an archer and I was not prepared for a fight. I had just lost the blood mages' trail and I was focused solely on finding it again. They had been counting on this and hired the Crow, Josai, to kill me. He tried valiantly but in the end, I brought him down," She sighed, "I took an arrow to my left knee though. The healer said that if it had gone any deeper I wouldn't have been able to walk. As it was, it took me weeks to heal, and a month after that for Seeker Lambert to allow me out on missions."
Enya, absorbed in her story shifted, "And what about the Maleficarum?"
"Finding them was the only reason I arrived a healer. I found their trail again and made my way to them. They had ravens. I killed the apostates and then sent word to Val Royeux that I had completed my mission and was in need of aid." "You took down the Maleficarum even though you were injured?" The elf asked, uncertain to be impressed or concerned by her companion's disregard for her own injuries.
"I hadn't the luxury of a choice. Once Josai did not return to them to inform them of my death, I would have been at their mercy," Cassandra's voice was so matter of fact, Enya found herself unable to question her reasoning, "Kill or be killed," She sighed and pushed herself up from her seat on the ground, "And that is how I acquired this limp. Does it satisfy?"
"Very much so," Enya smiled as she too rose from her seat on the tree stump, "Thank you for sharing."
Cassandra's reply was curt, "We should get moving. There is much for us to do and Haven will require our presence again soon."
They returned to the camp to find the fire had already been put out and the horses were already saddled. Enya reflected that she wished she could have left the saddle behind, but it would have appeared ungrateful if she had. They had not been required to make payment for these horses that were certainly worth far more than the average steed and the saddles alone would probably have fed a family for a month. She tied her bedroll to the back of the saddle, wincing as the cord she used slid roughly across her mark. Turning back to her preparations for departure, she caught Solas' contemplative eyes on her. He bowed his head to her as she met his gaze, threading a cord around his own bedroll to keep it flush to the saddle.
Enya climbed onto her horse, noting the width of the stallion's neck and shoulders and again wondered how the Dalish could possible think of horses as servants. With the rest of her companions mounted and ready, she clucked gently to her steed, picking up a gentle trot that carried them swiftly and effortlessly across the ground. They rode up a hill to the north and crossed a wide stream on their way to complete the tasks Master Dennet had asked of them.