Here we go for some pieces of the first field trip of yet another merry band of misfits! Thanks for reading! Additonal translations at the end of the chapter.
If anything, Mother Giselle had been a nice surprise. Mahariel was waiting for some Roderick-type cleric who would spit on her as a heretic. The Mother was nothing like that. Not that she did not look at her questioningly, but the glance was no judgmental. She even laughed at some comment of the elf. A Mother of the shem Chantry with a sense of humor. Who would have think that? Mahariel – after looking for the agreement of Cassandra on the matter – assigned Mother Giselle an escort to go safely to Haven.
People in the crossroad were looking at her with mixed feelings. Dark suspicion of seeing an elven vint – unexpected sight indeed – and then, when they would hear some Inquisition soldiers calling her Herald, earnest bewilderment. She did not give it much thoughts. The suspicion was expected if not understandable. The trust of the folk had to be earned and for that, she had to prove herself. She listened to Caporal Vale and his men, taking note of the locations and resources needed for the refugees.
Then, the real work began. This area desperately needed to be taken care of. First thing first, the horses. Scout Harding had given them a direction, they had to go through the mages, templars and bandits to reach the Farms now.
Mahariel was fighting the Templar knight, irritation on her features. Cassandra, Varric and Solas were busy with the archers on the other side of the barricade. Blooded armor won't let her have any kind of window. She leapt to flank him. He spun on his heels, giving her a fierce assault with his shield. She fell on her rear and rolled instantly on the side, wiping a drop of blood from her lips. Wrong tactic. She fade-walked through him to take distance. She thought quickly as she chilled him. Weakening the metal. Right. She smirked and placed an ice mine right on his trajectory to her. With his momentum, he was unable to avoid it and walked right on the trap. He fell backwards, cleaning the magic too late. She charged him with her spiritual blade. She jumped above him, her knees blocking both his hands, trying to reach for sword and shield. She grinned wickedly.
"Fighting for dear life, are we?"
She pressed the blade against his throat, blood spurting over her white hair. Cassandra, Varric and Solas just joined the scene, done with the others. Mahariel jumped back on her feet, wiping the blood away. She stretched her neck.
"All clear."
She went to loot the corpses. Varric spoke low, to no one in particular, before joining her.
"That was an assassin move, right?"
Cassandra gave a nod with a deep frown. She – they – had decided to trust Mahariel. Still, she was not really comfortable with knowing the white-hair could took down a templar in heavy armor on her own, without an injury. They better keep her on their side. Solas' features remained unreadable as he processed. Not the Vir Tenadhal then, the Vir Banal'ras. How peculiar…
The sun was already almost down when they came near the farms. As they crossed a waterway, Mahariel felt the tingling in her hand. Great, because they didn't have had enough demons for the day. She narrowed her eyes towards the faintest green glowing behind the rocks. The others followed her gaze and drew their weapons.
They didn't even reach the rift that the four of them were on the ground, a terror threatening them from above. Mahariel gritted her teeth. Being taken aback is awfully unpleasant. Her eyes widened and she rolled on her side, bumping into Cassandra to avoid the claws reaching for her chest. Okay, random thoughts for later. Cassandra raised her shield above both of them for the second assault. Pushing the terror away, she stood, giving Mahariel a chance to do as well. She disappeared in stealth and dived her blade into the terror's legs. It growled at her and shoved her away. Cassandra let out a war cry, charging with her sword. It bounced on the too-thick scales. Mahariel scanned the area. An anger demon was rushing towards the both of them with shadows. She spotted Varric and Solas.
"Watch out!"
She drew a barrier around them before the freezing spurt touched them. They moved out of reach quickly. She lowered her head to avoid the burning of the anger demon.
Solas looked at her with disbelief once more. She seriously had to stop putting barrier around anyone but her when she was surrounded. He drew a barrier around Cassandra and her.
Varric loaded a handful of bolts into the shadows. They turned towards the dwarf and elf. They exchanged a look. Solas sent energy barrages and fade-walked through them, chilling them. Varric finished the work with an explosive shot. Mahariel and Cassandra were busy with the terror, having a hard-time dealing it damages. The Herald noticed the shadows fading. So, the easy ones are down. Now, what is this freakin' flying thing?! The said thing gave a high-pitched scream. Both elves reached instinctively to cover their ears. For them, the sound was unbearable. The despair demon took on its advantage, aiming his spurt of ice at Solas. Mahariel tried to stop it with a winter grasp, without effect. The apostate nothing but flew several feet away on the ground.
"Solas!"
Mahariel rushed towards him. Venhedis, no ice magic against this. The terror tackled her. The anger demon came way too-close to Varric. The dwarf yelled as it burned him fiercely. Mahariel disappeared into stealth. The terror didn't insist, more interested in Cassandra. It disappeared under earth and came back under the seeker, putting her on her rear. The despair demon screamed once more and began to attack Varric.
Mahariel looked at the scene with gritted teeth. Fuck. The others were more or less knocked out, she could not do anything out of stealth against these things, and, in stealth, they would reach her companions and do a lot more than knocking them out. The despair demon was already flying back to Solas. She whistled loudly attracting every demon attention. Er, that wasn't the point of –
She jumped on the side, avoiding the ice. Dammit. She focused to summon a fireball. Fire wasn't her strongest point, but better an average fireball than a powerful winter grasp against it, that had been made clear. She could hear the birds repeating the whistle. Tell me they are not far, I cannot keep at it long. The anger demon grabbed her wrist. She froze it, running away. The terror shouted. Her face tensed. Is this a new game of these blooded things?!
"El'las'in, what – Oh fuck!"
The brown-hair elf arrived with a handful of others. They drew their weapons immediately. Mahariel sighed with relief, ignoring the harsh pain in her wrist.
"Someone, get Inquisition scouts!" She paused, glancing at her party. Fuck. The elf caught the glance and took over.
"Kira, make sure these three are knocked out!"
"Got it!" Mahariel nodded.
"Oran, keep them distracted, I'm going to weaken them!"
The brown-hair nodded, launching arrows at the despair demons. With the five extra elves, the demons had a hard-time deciding where to attack. Mahariel made her way to disrupt the rift. The despair demon fell with the blast of energy, but another terror and shadows came through.
"Vishante kaffas!"
She leapt around, putting ice mines on several spots. She fade-walked through their opponents, taking down the shadows with her blade on the way. Her agents had the upper hand on the two terrors remaining. She froze the anger demon. Oran sent an arrow, exploding it. She sent daggers to help with the terrors. When they finally fell, Mahariel held her hand to the rift. It flashed closed. She sighed and put a spell on her eyes for them to appear grey before turning towards the elves, wiping dark blood from their clothes. She spoke with her strongest Tevinter accent.
"Everyone alright?" They nodded. She looked at the dark-hair named Kira "And them?" Asked se with concern, eyeing Cassandra, Varric and Solas.
"They are good for a headache. Except from that, the dwarf has a nasty burn, the elf a broken shoulder, the human, I cannot say with the armor." Mahariel nodded, making her way to check on them.
"Good. Thank you." Oran nodded slightly and asked.
"How did you know we were there?" She shrugged with fake ignorance.
"Considering the last orders, I thought it possible you'll be keeping an eye on things."
"Touché. Speaking of, I was told to transmit you –"
They all spun towards the rushed footsteps approaching. They exchanged a nod and the five elves disappeared into the shadows, leaving Mahariel alone. She suppressed the spell on her eyes and kneeled next to Cassandra, trying to figure out more. Scout Harding arrived with others, running.
"Herald! A farmer told us he heard screams and thought you were in trouble!" Mahariel stood, pointing her companions.
"I am alright" She continued to go from one to another. She knew their lives weren't at stake, but still. Harding came next to her.
"We have a position secured next to the farms. It isn't far. Can we move them without risks?" Asked she, worried.
"Yes."
Mahariel spent the next hour preparing a bunch of poultice and potions. Her healing skills being what they were, she had learnt to offset them with good notions of herborism. For Varric and Cassandra, it will be enough. For Solas too, except the fact they had to put the bone back into place before going on with anything to quicken the process. As Harding and the scouts were taking care of the Seeker and the dwarf, Mahariel took a deep breath. Better doing it while he was knocked out, the process wasn't exactly painless. She put a firm hand on his shoulder and took his arm in the other. Okay, easy. One, two –
She avoided barely a fierce head-butt as he yelled with pain and his head jerked up. She looked at him with surprise as she exclaimed.
"By the Void, ir abelas, lethallin! I thought you were still out and wouldn't feel it!" Solas blinked several times, trying to figure out what happened and to have his vision back to clear.
"Mahariel?" She bit her bottom lip, eyes wide and apologetic.
"Yes?"
"How – What…"
"The rift. You have been knocked out and you broke your shoulder." He frowned, trying to remember. Yes, the despair demon. They were in an awfully bad position. He remembered Varric screaming and…And not a lot besides that. Harding's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Herald – Oh Messere, happy to see you are awake too." Solas repeated.
"Too?"
"It is what I was coming to tell the Herald. Varric and Cassandra are awake."
"We were all knocked out?" Mahariel shrugged.
"Demons fight dirty."
"You finished them by yourself?" Asked he with a mix of disbelief and respect. She didn't answer, turning towards Harding.
"Thank you. I'll go see them as soon as I'm done here."
Harding nodded and went back out of the tent. Mahariel put her hand on his shoulder, palping for the position of the bone. She sighed with relief. At least it was back in place, she didn't have to do another nasty manipulation. Her tone was neutral as she spoke, even if a sparkle of worry remained in her eyes.
"How are you feeling? How is your head? You did an impressive fall." He stared a bit too-long into her bright eyes, still unnerved.
"I'm fine, thanks to you. How did you manage to finish this fight?" She stepped back with a Grand-Game smile and winked.
"It will take more than breaking your shoulder to get my secret moves out of me, lethallin."
He narrowed his eyes, trying to go through her unreadable features. He was unsure how he was feeling to the idea of owing her his life. Unpleased, yes. But a part of him remained impressed. And surprised. As much as he considered he could have handled the Crow himself, he had to admit reluctantly he couldn't have escape alone this time. He finally settled for a smirk. He could play just as much as she.
"I shall try something else, then." She laughed lightly and stood.
"I'll go check on the others. If you need anything, just scream."
She came out of the tent, giving some indications about the poultices to a scout. She checked quickly with Cassandra and Varric.
They didn't go to talk with master Dennet before the next afternoon, time for poultices and such to take effect, and for them to take some proper rest.
Mahariel leapt backward to avoid the assault of the terror. Not again, freakin' thing. A wolf immediately jumped on her. Her nose wrinkled. She hated fighting animals. She was not used to them attacking her, her few ranger skills keeping them at bay, usually. She shoved it fiercely, looking at the others.
"Focus on the terror!" A bolt arrived right into the wolf's side as she spoke. Diving her blade into the terror, she raised a brow at Varric.
"You said focus, Grey, not ignore the teeth in your legs!" She chuckled faintly.
"You'd disregard that one."
"Guilty."
Cassandra bashed the terror with her shield. Solas froze it. Mahariel sent two knifes into it and Cassandra gave the deathblow. As it faded, Mahariel spoke in a low voice, preventing the others to make out her words.
"Atisha, da'fen. Tel'nuvenin nua na." Peace, little wolf. I don't want to hurt you.
She jumped on the side to avoid the attack. Okay, that didn't work. Solas peeked at her with surprise. He was the only one with a hearing sharp enough to hear that. One way or another, the only one able to understand. What was she trying to do now? Well, to subside the wolves, yes, but that was peculiar for a Dalish. Weren't they cursed animal?
"Grey, if you are done talking, could you lend a hand?"
She groaned with frustration. Not that she could do a lot more. She disappeared into stealth, blade popping in and out of the shadows, giving clean blows to the animals. The pack was little and it was no big trouble for the party to get rid of them. As Cassandra sheathed her blade, she pointed out.
"The fur could be useful for the refugees."
Both Mahariel and Solas' noses wrinkled the slightest. She suppressed a sigh and finally nodded. She took few steps towards a corpse, aside from the rest. She kneeled in front of it, whispering.
"Ir abelas, da'fen. Falon'din enasal enaste."
Solas frowned at the other side, as much to the prayer than to the whole thing. Definitely strange. He finished with the wolf in front of him and settled for asking. He took few steps towards Mahariel. Sadly, she stood at the same time with her loot, glancing at the whole party. She was obviously in not such a good mood. Seeing everyone was done, she ignored the obvious desire of Solas to talk to her.
"C'mon, we have a druffalo to find." She took the way out of the den as Cassandra grunted.
"You can't be serious."
The end of the week went quietly. The atmosphere between the elves had smoothened with the incident of the rift and the banters were harmless and easy-going. Mahariel was, however, mainly talking with Varric as the two rogues were walking ahead to scan the different areas for traps. They cleaned the Mage camp, brought back food and blankets for the refugees, closed a bunch of rifts, recruited few agents, help random people the best they could.
Mahariel often turned to Cassandra for her agreement when something was asked from her. The Seeker seemed to appreciate the concern for her opinion, yet, she was as aware as Solas and Varric that the Herald was the leader of their little party. By the beginning of Guardian, the suspicion towards the – supposed – Tevinter Herald had mostly faded. They had sent scouts and soldiers to build the watchtowers asked by master Dennet. The horses he had already provided generously to the party had been of great help.
The party was back in the crossroad. They had been informed the watchtowers were finished. They were to go back to Master Dennet the day after. Then, they will venture back to Haven. Cassandra and Varric were talking with Caporal Vale, to make sure every urgent matter had been taken care of. The two mages were, meanwhile, away but still nearby the hamlet. They were making a stock of potions, mist and poultices to provide the refugees, as they had noticed the crossroad was in lack of healers. They had found no one yet to fulfill this task.
Solas eventually noticed Mahariel had been stretching her hand since the last rift. Since the concoctions were to rest a time before being put in the flasks, he offered her to take a look. She looked at him suspiciously but finally accepted. Her poor healing skills were doing no effect and her hand was feeling as if it had been stabbed. Examining her hand, he spoke up.
"A question if I may, lethallan?" She snorted.
"Only one? I'm surprised. You do wonder a lot, Solas."
"You are a difficult one to figure out." She smirked.
"You keep saying that while one doesn't know more about you than about me. Likely even less. An answer for an answer?" He looked up from her hand.
"Why?"
"I could ask the same." She actually did wonder the same. What was with these people and their endless questioning. She was willing to help; couldn't that be enough? He smirked faintly.
"What do you want to know?" Well, something you would actually answer. He informed her with a glance he was done with her hand. She took it back and stretched it, happy to see the pain had effectively faded. She gave a look to the potions and, noticing they were still far from ready yet, she went on with the talk.
"Ma serannas, lethallin. I have always been poor healer. So, what made you interested with the Fade?"
At her surprise, he gave her a true answer, explaining the village in the North he was born in had not a lot to offer to a young mage. The Fade was a place of wonder for him. He treasured his dreams, exploring the mysteries of this place. She heard again the romantic sensibility of their discussion in Haven.
"I'm surprised you woke up."
He explained at some point he could not found new areas of the Fade anymore. First, because the Fade reflects your surrounding area, second, because it is limited by one's imagination. When he finished his second explanation, she replied earnestly.
"I wish you luck." His lips curved slightly. The absence of the judgement of the close-minded he had found in this world was still refreshing. She was genuinely interested in his studies, he could see it in her eyes.
"Thank you. In truth, I've enjoyed exploring more of life to find more or the Fade." She looked at him questioningly.
"How so?"
"You train to flick a dagger or an arrow to its target. The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit. You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I." She smirked and pointed out with mischief.
"Are you suggesting I'm graceful, lethallin?" His face remained serious.
"No." He was satisfied to see he broke her mask, even for barely a sec as her nose wrinkled the slightest. He smirked and resumed. "I'm declaring it. It was not a subject for debate."
A smile and a blush threatened her features as the most ridiculous sound she had ever made crossed her lips. She muttered it quickly, bewildered. What the hell was THAT?! An assassin doesn't giggle! Damn, she had been beaten at her own game on this one. She managed to hide the too-genuine smile with an appreciative smirk of his skillful answer.
"I shall indulge you with less stealth, then."
He had to admit she was back to her mastery with honorable quickness. It did not lessen his satisfaction. And appreciation of his effect. Managing to fluster a beautiful woman was always appreciable. This little giggle was ridiculously adorable and a too-genuine warm smile was menacing his lips as well. He answered quickly to prevent him to lose the slight advantage he had gained.
"I believe you owe me an answer."
"I do, don't I? Ask away."
He found himself appreciating this exchange beyond the fulfilment of his curiosity so, he actually hesitated. He wanted first to ask about her being Dalish but knew such direct question would bring her back on the defensive. He was strangely reluctant to see this exchange end on a tensed note.
"You don't want your history to be readable. Yet, you bear witness of it inked in your skin. Why?" He could not say, considering her unreadable face, but she was pleased by the question. She considered it a time before answering.
"One was not my choice, one I asked, the others were offered as gifts. A tattoo is a powerful sign of respect, appreciation, of belonging. Despite the insights they give, I accepted these gifts gratefully because they are the most meaningful one can give to another. An indelible link saying you are and will always be a respected one to us. Such demonstration of respect should be honored."
"A respected one, not a friend?" She shook her head.
"Take the banner of Par Vollen. The gift does not mean we will never be on the opposite side of the battlefield. It does not mean the best interest of my people will never push me to fight the Qun. It means that I will always be a Basalit-an, even if I may not always be a Kadan. Me accepting it means I will always respect the Qun, as much as a foe as I did as an ally."
"So, vallaslin were no choice, Par Vollen was gift. Is it the Imperial dragon or the Crows you asked for?" She raised a brow. He did not see the one in my back after all. Good, hard to explain. She looked away with a lopsided smile.
"What make you think I have only four?" He nodded.
"Point taken. Still, isn't it complicated as a spy?" She shrugged.
"Not that much. Look, people think I'm Tevinter, as you thought first I was Qunari. War-paint can do much and, if needed, I can cloak them. But magic is not the most reliable on, in this very case. If someone knock me out, it would as soon become inefficient. Or, if I enter a big fight asking for all my mana and I cannot sustain it anymore. No, I prefer war-paint or make-up for that."
"You know what you are doing, obviously." She smirked.
"Two compliments in such little time? Do you think flattery will help you catch up with Varric on the investigation duty? He has quite a head-start."
"You might be interested to know Cassandra actually called off the investigation duty after your little discussion the other day."
"Is that so? Why?" Both her brows raised up with bewilderment. He, however, didn't fall for it. If he was certain of one thing, it was that it had been a calculated move. He smirked.
"Asked she as if the seeker didn't conform exactly to her plan." She looked at him, feigning offense.
"What kind of horrible opinion do you have of me?" He scanned her features, disappointed to not find more on them than her mask. He finally looked elsewhere.
"I have a very high opinion of the spy and fighter you are, actually. For the person you are, I have none." She smirked but didn't answer. And it is going to stay that way. "To answer, the seeker decided to trust you." Mahariel raised a brow and corrected.
"She decided to trust her Herald. And you did not truly abandon the task, proof being this very discussion."
"You assume quickly someone cannot be sincerely intrigued without further purpose." She smirked as she jumped on her feet.
"Said he as if he didn't ask why when I asked about him. I believe our preparations is waiting for some attention we shall not deny."
She took a step away but remembered his previous words and stopped. She added, face serious.
"I would appreciate you stop referring to the tattoo you call vallaslin, however." He frowned a bit.
"You do realize this is a lost battle? Adan saw them, a servant saw them." She shook her head.
"What proof do you have they are blood-writing? They are elven tattoos, yes, but vallaslin are more. More than a tattoo and a particular pattern, this is a ritual. How do you know this tattoo has been done by a Keeper with sacred ink?"
She paused and turned to him fully, face grim and eyes sharp. She moved to a Dalish accent to emphasize the statement she was making.
"Vallaslin are applied to a Dalish who becomes an adult. A "flat-ear" mimicking these lines does not wear the blood-writing. He wears elven-pantheon-inspired-tattoo, at the best. For what you, Adan or this servant know of the Dalish, would any hide them? Vallaslin are part of the misplaced pride of the Dalish. We are the last of the People and never again shall we submit."
She had been careful to let the inverted comas known on the word flat-ear. As the word shemlen, she would not use it lightly. Not anymore, at least. Her mind was still thinking it more often than she wanted, but she could control her lips. The Dalish were using these insults too easily. However, she had nothing but spat misplaced pride, quoting him.
He looked at her with a deep scowl, feeling like he had been scolded like a schoolboy. She could say what she wanted, this was the very demonstration of a Dalish brat. We are the last of the People. These recent elves had nothing of the Peop –
Her hand reached instinctively for her bow pendant and her voice softened a bit as she finished.
"No. A true Dalish would never hide them. Stop referring to them, lethallin. Have they ever been Vallaslin or not, I cannot be called Dalish. Don't put a target on the People to satisfy your curiosity."
She turned away, putting an end to this discussion. He remained bewildered a bit. His annoyance and irritation had not totally fled, but a good part had. Her tone was sad, nostalgic, almost…Pleading on her last sentences. Despite a voice whispering him not to fall for it, he couldn't help but. He had been so taken with making her confess she was Dalish, he did not realize his questioning was hurtful for her. You know what your kind think of her…What the hell happened between her and the People? He caught up with her as she was back to the poultices and talked softly.
"Ir abelas, lethallan. Wherever the truth laid, it is your own. I shall not have pried with such insistence."
She looked at him with eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. She composed her features swiftly and waved the thought without answering. Enough heart-to-heart for today, they had work to do.
Mahariel laughed whole-heartedly. If the sight of Varric and his pony trotting had been something, the face of the dwarf while galloping was priceless. She has slowed down her mount to let him a chance to catch up with them. Cassandra and Solas had a hard-time not laughing too. The curses of the dwarf punctuated the strides of the animal.
"Wonder of wonder, or does he even stay on it?" Asked she to no one in particular.
"I believe the credit is to the crossbow. It has entangled itself with the saddle." Pointed out Solas, the hint of a smile on his lips. They exchanged an amused look. Cassandra tried to remain serious.
"I'm afraid we will need to consider an extra day to make it to Haven if we are to be slowed down like this."
"YEAH GO ON, LAUGH AT THE DWARF! I'll remember it next time we are in a cave and you bump your head against the rocks!" Mahariel chuckled.
"You hate caves more than us."
"True." Confirmed Solas. Varric slowed down the mount with difficulty as he arrived next to them. He winced.
"When I told you to play nice, I didn't mean at my expense, you two!"
"You should be careful of what you ask for, then." Chuckled Mahariel. She raised both hands as the dwarf glared at her. "Easy, wait." She gestured towards him. He started a bit and settled on the saddle comfortably. He looked at her questioningly as she asked. "Better?"
"Weirdly, yes."
"What did you do?" Asked Cassandra. Solas answered first.
"The Herald surrounded Master Tethras with energy, forcing his balance to remain." He looked at her with an appreciative nod. "Well done." She smirked with a slight bow. Varric and Cassandra processed the explanation. The dwarf finally answered.
"Grey…" He paused and burst. "WHY DIDN'T YOU DO THAT A WEEK AGO?!" Mahariel laughed, making her horse spun on its heels.
"I wasn't going to play nice at the expense of my fun either!"
The horse broke into gallop, not waiting for any reactions. Cassandra and Solas didn't manage to suppress their laugh as Varric pouted.
Da'fen: little wolf.
Falon'din enasal enaste: a prayer for the dead