Breakfast ends up being a delicious chunk of cheese, a few slivers of dried fruit, and a magically warmed drink that tastes of honey and raspberries, though nothing is like anything she has ever tasted before.
They are seated across from one another in the center of the room on thin yet comfortable cushions. Solas looks at her thoughtfully as he chews a piece of fruit. She looks up to see him staring and looks back down quickly, suddenly self-conscious.
"May I ask about your markings? They are unlike any I have seen before," he probes gently. She looks up from her meal again.
"They honor the gods. Mine represent June, God of the Craft. I chose to honor him after I was faced with a unique dilemma about what weapon I ought to wield. I am skilled both in hunting with the bow as well as magic. And so I carved my own weapon, a bow that, upon being unstrung, can be used as a staff."
Solas listens intently, a small furrow carved between his eyes.
"I am unfamiliar with this rendition of June's markings. I wonder if perhaps they changed over time? Although…" he trails off, looking uncertain.
"Although what?" she presses as she leans forward, the cheese in her hand forgotten.
"I am unsure of how to phrase it. It seems in your time, you still worship them as your gods. And it is true, they are worshipped. But… Well, to put it bluntly, they are not gods. Merely beings who are more in-tune with magic than others."
She sits back on her heels, letting the information sink in. "So you're telling me they're nothing but powerful mages? But how does that make any sense? My people have worshipped them for thousands of years."
"That is simply the truth… I am sorry, but your people are incorrect to worship them as any kind of creators," he says in a concerned, pitying voice. He rushes on, changing the subject. "But I am…not sure what you mean by mage. And earlier you mentioned a staff, but in regards to magical prowess, I do not see the connection."
"A mage is someone who can use magic, and a staff is what they use to channel such power," she offers, her mind still far away, thinking of false gods and worthless traditions.
"You imply not everyone can access magic," he murmurs after a moment.
Her brow crinkles again. "Well, no. They can't. Only some, and those that can't are usually deeply mistrustful of those who can."
"Everyone can use magic here. Some have more prowess than others, but even children can conjure a simple flame."
She sits there silently, her mouth slightly open in shock. She stirs herself from her reverie and continues.
"It is nothing like that in my time. If you are found to have magic, you are carted off to a Circle, where you are taught to control yourself, lest you leave yourself open to possession. I never went to a circle because most Dalish mages don't. That's not to say the Templars wouldn't drag me off given the first opportunity."
"Templars?"
"They are like the magical law enforcement. They use lyrium to control and sometimes subdue the mages."
Solas sat forward suddenly, his eyes darting over her face. "What do you know of lyrium?" he asks earnestly.
"Not much. We don't really have a big supply in the clan. What we do obtain we purchase from other clans, who purchase it from the Shems. I have heard that some even manage to purchase directly from Dwarven merchants."
Solas hums and sits back again, looking agitated.
"It is troubling to me that the use of lyrium continues in your time. It has proven…toilsome in this time."
"Why? What has happened?"
He studied her a moment out of the side of his eyes. "It is, perhaps, a story for another time."
"Isn't this another time? For me at least?"
Solas smirks and shakes his head. "Nice try, da'len. Now, if you're finished, I will show you to the baths. I daresay you'd like to freshen up after your midnight stroll last evening."
Shaking her head free of the tangles of their breakfast conversation, she nods and moves to stand up. Solas is to his feet in an instant, offering his hand to her in assistance. He leads her to the only doorway through which she has not yet entered in the tiny domicile.
A short, narrow corridor greets them, opening up into a small yet spacious round room. At the center, a sunken pool of water glistens and flicks its glimmering reflections of light over the walls. A slight fog emanating over the surface tells her the water is heated. A shiver of anticipation rolls over her, and when she turns to thank Solas, he has already left her to her privacy.
Silently, she slips the gown over her head and leaves it in a mound near the entrance to the corridor. She deftly slides her body into the pool, marveling over its warmth and ability to greatly diminish the knots of worry and panic that had been lurking surreptitiously within her muscles.
The water reaches to her neck, and she finds herself inhaling the steam and relaxing backward until she is floating on the water. The pool is only perhaps three meters wide and four meters long, and not very deep at all, maybe four feet. But it is enough to allow her stretch out completely without touching any of the sides.
She lets her mind drift, remembering the day she'd been forced to go with the Tevinters. Her clan had only been in that particular stretch of the western Free Marches for about a week when she and the head Hunter of the clan had gone out in search of meat to bring home.
Telhen had walked straight into a trap. Untalented in magic, he had been unable to detect the shimmer of the trap before ensnaring himself in it. Hearing his screams, she had followed the source to find Telhen bound by magic at the center of a group of cruel Tevinters. There she had begged for his life, pleading until they had finally agreed to take her in his stead. She was capable of considerable magical talent herself, but even she wasn't stupid enough to take on six armed Tevinter mages.
The last thing she remembered before waking up in a cell in the dungeons of Alexius' estate was Telhen's distraught face looking up at her from where he cowered on the ground. His bow lay in two pieces next to him and his daggers had been confiscated. Her own weapon was nowhere to be found.
Pulling away from her memories, she lets her feet fall back to the bottom of the pool and opens her eyes. She spies a white chunk of what she assumes is soap sitting at the edge of the pool. She reaches for it and begins to scrub away the grime on her body and traces of dried blood from beneath her fingernails. After vigorously scraping her scalp raw of all dirt and filth, she rinses herself and climbs out of the pool glancing around for something to dry off with.
Finding a stack of pristine white linens along the far wall, she wraps one around her body. She softly pads through the small walkthrough and into the larger common room to find Solas sitting at his desk, poring over his maps. She pauses as he scribbles something down on one of them.
He looks up suddenly, feeling her gaze upon him. He stands abruptly and his cheeks color slightly as he takes in her appearance.
"My apologies. I did not bring you a change of clothes. Please, I will return in a moment with something suitable."
He all but flees from the room, back toward the direction of the bedroom. Although she is damp, she finds the temperature in the room to be pleasant. She leans against the wall and waits patiently, but Solas is already back, proffering an armful of clothing.
"These are mine," he stammers, averting his eyes. "They will be big, but I will modify them once you are dressed."
She takes them and thanks him, smirking a little at his apparent discomfit from her implied nudity. Back in the bath room, she slips the simple brown pants and olive tunic over her head and hangs the towel from a bar next to the stack of fresh ones. The tunic hangs to her knees and she struggles to hold the pants up as she walks back out to where Solas is seated back at his desk, pointedly not looking toward the doorway.
She clears her throat, her hands grasping tightly around the waist of the pants to keep them from falling to her ankles. Solas stands and strides over to her, relief obvious on his face now that she is clogged again. With a casual wave of his hand, she feels the clothing begin to shrink and form to her figure until it fits appropriate to her size.
"Neat trick," she says simply, checking herself over. The clothing is not exactly something she would have worn back home, but it is comfortable and functional.
"So," she begins, looking up at Solas again. "Have you had any ideas about how to get me back to my own time?"
"I have a couple of hunches, but they may lead to nothing. Or they could lead to everything. We will not know until I have a chance to study it some more." He crosses the room and opens a small chest sitting on a shelf. Inside is a small sphere with curved lines carved into it. It emits a faint green glow, which shines slightly brighter when it comes into contact with his hand.
He carries the orb over to where she stands watching.
"This is a foci," he explains, lifting it so she can better examine it. "It is specifically tuned to me, and under normal circumstances, will not respond to any other brand of magic without extreme force. To do so would be foolish and would result in the death of whomever attempted it."
She can feel the energy surrounding it like a self-contained gravity, and she feels the urge to touch it. She forces her hands behind her back to resist the temptation. It seems somehow familiar to her, like déjà vu, but she is positive she has never seen such a thing in her life.
"I think I may be able to tune you into it without completely reducing my own focus within it. It is risky, but I am fine-tuned to all the intricacies of its moods and will be able to tell at a moment's notice if its allegiance does not return your favor. You should be safe."
"You speak of it as though it were a living being," she says in a low voice, her eyes still glued to the object.
"In many ways, it does mimic a living being. No, it cannot see or hear or eat or sleep. But it has a certain awareness that inanimate objects do not normally possess. A rock is just a rock, but fill it with energy and it gains the potential to become more than it ever was before."
"What do you intend to do? Will it hurt?"
"The process should be painless, but I cannot promise you will feel nothing at all. As I said before, it is just a hunch I have. If I can tune you into its energy, then with all our powers combined, I may be able to rip open a hole in time itself to send you back."
"I…I am willing to give it a shot. What's the worst that can happen?"
"Well, you could end up going back even further in time. Or you could be deposited far into the future. Or somewhere in between, where I might not be able to help you. Or the rip in time could shred your body until nothing is left to put back together. And if the hole snaps shut before you are fully through, well…"
She scowls at Solas. "It was a rhetorical question, Solas, but thanks for the reassurance." He grins and she realizes he is only toying with her.
"Shall we get started?" he asks, beckoning her back to the cushions in the center of the room where they had eaten breakfast earlier. She falters and stands rooted to the spot.
"What, now?"
"I see no reason to wait. You are eager to return to your own time and I am eager to help you attain that goal."
She hesitates for a moment, then sinks down onto the cushion beside Solas. Taking a deep breath, she turns to him. "Just tell me what to do."
Solas settles himself onto his cushion and looks back to her.
"Hold out your hand," he orders kindly, and he encloses her hand in his. Sitting across from her with one hand clasped around hers and one holding the orb up at chest level, he closes his eyes and begins to speak in Elvhen, most of the words slipping past her without any comprehension on her part. The orb begins to float in the air between them, the emanating green light growing stronger and brighter with each passing second.
When the light reaches blinding intensity, she becomes aware of a hum in the air, setting her nerves tingling in anticipation. Solas pulls her hand up to meet the orb where it hovers. Suddenly, an image shimmers to life in the air before them.
It shows them a darkened room, where a table with leather straps sits in the center, flanked by many wooden tables covered in a variety of sinister-looking instruments. A man lies crumpled on the floor while another stands gaping in her direction, almost as though he can see her.
The man steps forward, his brilliant mustache quivering and his black hair glinting in the torchlight. He reaches out a hand toward her and she knows in that instant that he really can see her. A breeze gushes through the opening, smelling of dankness and malevolent energy. This isn't simply a glimpse, but a true doorway into another time.
But she has no desire to go to this place, with its dark edges and feelings of dread. This is the wrong moment. She needs to go back to before her capture. Perhaps she will be able to prevent her and Telhen from ever going hunting in the first place. The clan had survived many days without meat in the past. They would not starve that day and not any of the several days ahead of them.
Just as she resolves to mone back, the man reaching out to her stumbles and falls hard to the left. A different man stands in his place, presumably the one she had seen crumpled on the ground a moment before. There is a snarl on his face and he launches himself toward the torn fabric of time rippling before him.
She screams and scrambles backward as the man advances upon the doorway, a swell of red magic growing in his palm. She yanks her hands away in panic, severing the connection and closing the doorway in an instant. The orb quivers and snaps to her hand like a magnet in the wake of the sudden movement. Desperately, she tries to pry the sphere from her hand, but it is stuck, and a searing pain rips through her hand and up her arm.
She shrieks and doubles over. Solas grabs for the orb and attempts to wrench it away, but the moment his skin comes in contact with the glowing ball, a blast rents through the room, sending them both flying backward. She lands on her back hard and her head snaps back, crashing into the hard tile floor.
The world waxes dark again to the sound of a heavy object rolling across the floor.
NOTES:
Thanks for keeping up with me! I have so much planned for this story and your reviews and follows really mean a lot to me!