I didn't remember making my way back out of the cave at all, nor did I remember fainting outside in the first place – but I felt that it probably wasn't worth remembering anyway – if it was, than perhaps I would have. More than likely, considering the events that occurred, and the way the blood ritual worked, a demon had either taken over briefly to keep it's temporary vessel from danger, or, what ever that damned mirror had done caused me to move on auto-pilot until my body couldn't take the strain anymore and simply collapsed. I had hit the ground pretty hard, I did remember that much, so a number of things really could have happened. I did, however, remember Tamlen's words, and I did remember, that Tamlen was not with me, whether I was moving on my own or not. That was the only thing worth paying notice to.
When I came to, briefly, I saw a man looking down at me, though my vision was considerably hazy, and askew. He was a shem, or a really bulky dwarf, not that it mattered much because I barely remembered his face. He apologized to me, and I whimpered out a little sound, feeling a sob building up in my throat, but that was all I could feel. I wasn't sure why I wanted to cry exactly, not at that moment, it might have just been the lack of physical feeling I had. I could hear the intense beating of my heart ringing in my ears, begging me to stop what ever was trying to happen . . . or whatever had happened already. I wanted to reason that I couldn't control or do anything about what was occurring, but I managed to take a brief moment to realize that reasoning with my heart was more foolish than anything else I had ever thought of doing. I wasn't sure of anything either way. It was as if the rest of my body didn't exist, and there was a searing pain worked in my head and trailed down to the bridge of my nose, making my eyes water – tinted red from my ritual years ago. It was only moments before my eyes rolled back again, and all I saw was darkness, and the face of the one I had lost.
My mind wandered for a long moment, thought it wasn't like a dream, or like the Fade, where I had been a couple of times during my time being owned by Alosio. Instead, this was a dark – almost condescending – filled space with long flashes of different illuminated images and strange textures to be felt against the parts of my skin that were exposed. Invisible patches of fabric and sepia toned faces – all looking somber for one reason or another. The faces were unrecognizable, either because I didn't know them, or something was wrong and I couldn't remember them (or of course because I was unconscious and therefore my mind was playing tricks on me). And the fabrics felt foreign and badly made to say the least, it was uncomfortable and itchy, but I found myself not having the ability to move my hands or arms to brush the sensation away. My legs continued to work for themselves, walking into door less, dark corridors filled with more pictures, and the scratching grew harsher. For a moment, I feared that it would draw blood. There were walls, apparently, but I found a way to avoid them, or my legs knew to on their own that a wall wouldn't be a fun thing to walk into. Perhaps my limbs were smarter than my brain. Some of the pictures were larger than others, perhaps to show emphasize, while others were entirely minute, and the larger the picture, the more a sense of familiarity gave me comfort.
At one room, my legs halted in their movement. It was empty, and that feeling that the walls would close in and swallow me returned – until I heard voices.
"You'll never get back on your feet if you don't start moving, lethallin," I felt a whisper against my ear in a soft male voice. It sounded too familiar, but even if I had the use of my hands, I couldn't put my finger on where I had heard the voice. The voice caused me to shiver, and though it was a whisper, it reverberated around the room, and grew louder before it dimmed.
I became anxious, thinking that someone else was in this room with me, because I couldn't see anything, and I could barely, just barely, feel lips against my ear. The pictures were bright, and emitted light enough for me to see, but with no pictures in this specific room, it was as dark as the chamber room in most Tevinter mansions. Again, I tried to make a sound, but this time a little whistle replaced my vocals – and I wanted to whine in desperation.
"I'm surprised with all you've been through that you don't hate shems, especially mages," the voice was a bit louder this time, though it was the same person speaking, and almost jokingly, with a half-hearted laugh at the end.
"Your inan are so . . . green. Your soul must be fruitful, and constantly growing," this time, the voice was female, and I shuttered at the feel of a hand against my head, petting over and messing up the layers of hair that adorned my head, but it was feathery – the touch, and disappeared as quickly as I felt it.
"If we do make it out of here, it will be on a whim. The way you speak on escape plans are comforting, however, I must admit, but we can not get our hopes up," another male voice, and I felt my legs quiver, though I couldn't move them to walk on my own. This voice was accompanied by an almost too gentle stroke against my shoulder. It was actually more calming than the others.
My lips parted, in an attempt at the word 'stop', but a little whimper emitted instead, nearly a squeak actually. More voices started speaking at once, and all of these voices jumped around the room, as if the voices could seemingly ricochet off of the 'walls' of this room, and collide with my senses; I wanted to hold my ears, and scream or run out, and block all of it some how. Slowly, the voices became more overpowering, like battle drums beating harshly in the pit of my ears, alerting for a battle that would never really come. My legs collapsed on their own, and I sobbed silently, because there was no other option, until the darkness faded away, and I was in a room.
In reality, my eyes had just finally opened after what felt like weeks.
It registered quickly that this wasn't the tent I shared with Tamlen, seeing as the bed rolls weren't littered across the grass, and my Orlesian sanctuary wasn't in plain sight in the corner of the tent, surrounded by my many random objects that I found and had to keep in my possession because they were pretty. I sighed as my eyes returned slowly to the cloth that shielded my eyes from the sky – the tent seemed too closed it, but as I went to look for the way out, the movement of my eyes caused a terrible pain in my head and I hissed, forcing myself to sit up on the wooden table I was lying on. I felt stiff, mostly everywhere, and my head throbbed and ached under some sort of strange pressure, and then I started remembering my little dream and my head started hurting worse. Then, again it occurred to me: this wasn't Tamlen's tent, and also, I didn't see Tamlen. Perhaps, they had placed him in another tent, to treat him without another person being in the way, I assumed, trying to reassure myself that he was fine, or at least, felt the same way I did – alive, sore, and a wee bit irritated.
I shook my head, frowning to myself as I managed to stand, gripping the wooden table I had been laying on, but my legs wobbled like a newborn halla calf trying to teach itself to walk. I stumbled to the flap that took me from the tent, and as I held my head again because the sunlight had agitated my headache, a familiar voice caused me to look up and my lips curved into a rather childish pout.
Fenarel.
"You're awake! Everyone in the clan has been worried since the shem brought you back a couple of days ago. How do you feel?" He smiled, faintly, but I couldn't smile back despite how sweet his little gesture was. I found Fenarel adorable, honestly. In a, we looked as though we were the same age despite the fact that I was older, kind of way.
"Lower your voice, please and thank you," I whispered, my tattoos glowing briefly as I concentrated on the pain more than anything else, trying to force it away, at least for a moment so that I could attempt at rational and clear thoughts. I couldn't heal it myself, I realized, and usually that meant that it was pretty fucking bad, "I'm more worried than anything else . . . where's Tamlen?"
I wondered if he had experienced weird nightmares as well, but I kind of dismissed that idea as well. The mirror could have affected something mental, and caused a dormant, strange series of dreams, but that happened to me a lot because of what I was. Of course I was probably wrong. I had strange dreams constantly, but usually I was calm, and my dreams were lucid, be they frightening or not.
Fenarel frowned, and shook his head, and I almost instantly assumed that I knew what that meant, but I stayed silent as the pain dulled long enough to keep me from wanting to double over and faint, again. I felt anxiety swell in my stomach and signed to myself, as a calming method, but the breath came out jagged and sharp, like a dagger.
"We don't know . . . we have sent hunters out looking for him; there are hunters out now searching." He offered a reassuring smile and I looked away, and then shook my head sullenly. I kind of wished that I hadn't asked, though I would have found out when I was wondering around camp looking for someone that wasn't there.
" . . . okay, I guess that makes me feel better a little." I mumbled out a lie then looked up again. Fenarel placed a hand to my shoulder, and then told me that the Keeper wanted to speak with me once I woke up, and he led me to her, keeping me stable as my legs still felt like jelly.
I wasn't in a talking kind of mood after what I had just heard, but I smiled to Keeper Marethari, faintly, but it was still a smile. She smiled back, just as faint, and then I saw a frown creep on her lips.
"What happened with Tamlen, da'len? When Duncan brought you back, he said that you were alone, outside of a cave." She asked, and I shuddered to myself. Alone? That couldn't have been right. Briefly, I got images, of my weary figure, trudging out of the cave, and collapsing to the ground outside, but I was really by myself.
"We were exploring this caves – shems told us about it – and inside, there were corpses, and these spiders," I found myself trailing off for a moment, and I felt the need to get to the point, "in one of the rooms, there was a mirror, and – and Tamlen touched it, then there was this bright light, and I was knocked out." I looked away, and then she gave me a look that I couldn't exactly read.
"Walking corpses?" She asked, and I nodded, and she didn't speak more on it, well, on that specific at least.
"I know The Veil is thin here, I can sense it more that some of the others can, but I've never experienced –" I paused for a long moment, then shook my head furiously, shifting my light brown strands of hair around my head, "I've seen mages in Tevinter do something similar, actually. Alosio did it once to make sure I could still fight if I needed to. He surrounded me with corpses, and made me fight them off."
I was a bit bothered that I hadn't realized that when Tamlen had screamed that the cavern was haunted when he saw the corpses. Not that it mattered then, I wasn't going back.
"I want you to go back with Merrill, to look for Tamlen and so that she can tell me exactly what's in the cave."
When she spoke, I wasn't exactly mad because she wanted me to go back, not at first anyway, I was mostly mad because she wanted me to go back with Merrill. Of all the people she could send me with, but then again, Merrill was her first. The fact that I had to go back there, after all of that, didn't bother me until I replayed her words in my slowly numbing head.
I didn't like Merrill, as mean as that may have sounded, but it was true, and I knew that Keeper knew it. Everyone knew it. Andraste knew it and probably laughed at the fact that she bothered me that much. My eyes narrowed but then I shook my head and sighed inaudibly, I wouldn't go back on what she asked of me; I owed Keeper so much. I noticed Fenarel standing to the side, watching us from the distance with a hint of worry on his brow.
"Can I bring Fenarel, as well? I won't let him get hurt, I promise; the only thing that hurt me was the mirror, and I won't let him any where near it."
"I don't want to lose another one of the clan, but, if he wishes to go, then he can. I know you don't get along with Merrill, so maybe he can ease tension." She looked away from me for a moment, and then I nodded and walked over to Fenarel, sighing to myself. This was too much for one day, far too much.
"Fenarel, Keeper said I'm allowed to bring you with Merrill and me to the cave, if you want to go that is," I pleaded with him with my eyes, and I pouted my lower lip out a bit, and he smiled – whether it was because my actions or not – and nodded.
With Tamlen not being there, Fenarel was the only real person I could converse with without feeling odd, or at least without making me feel too different from everyone else, even though in a sense I was. Ashalle, as nice as she was, only helped take care of me when I was brought into the clan because, other than Tamlen, whom was still a hunter and had venture out for that reason, was the only one that had the time to fully keep an eye on me. I felt no real ties with her, though I did occasionally tell her things that I couldn't tell Tamlen – which was few considering that half the time I didn't care what I was telling him, which was bad. The thought of him made me frown and I shook my head, trying not to get too distracted. We were going to go back to the cave, if we found him we could bring him back and everything would be alright – everything would go back to normal and we can forget the damned cave ever existed.
"W-we need to find him, Fenarel. I don't know what I'll do if we don't." I shuddered at the thought, hugging myself as if it was comforting. It wasn't, not even in the slightest. I did remember telling Tamlen that I would have to leave the clan eventually because of Alosio, but I didn't want to also leave because I didn't have my best friend anymore. That would hang over my shoulders until I died.
Fenarel frowned and looked away, perhaps not knowing what to say to calm me –most people didn't. I didn't either, so it mostly didn't matter. He knew I was close to Tamlen – Tamlen was the one that found me wondering alone in the forest, injured, and brought me back to the clan, which he honestly didn't have to do, considering that he thought I was a flat ear and a thief. He watched over me constantly, even though he said that he hated doing so, I figured he was lying after a while; he was the only person I was ever really seen being content around; my first friend since I ran away. There was still hope, though Keeper did say that she had treated my wounds while I was walking away, and Tamlen didn't have such luxuries if they hadn't found him yet – he had been missing for days.
"Sorry, I . . . we should find Merrill so that we can go," my eyes averted to the left, half-lidded, then returned to the younger elf, "though I know going back . . . won't put me back at ease, walking away from the clan may make me feel better, at least a little. It's calmer out there, you know, and quieter . . ."
Fenarel smiled softly, nodding and took my arm with gentle fingers, walking with me and occasionally patting me on the back.
"What the hell is that?" I screamed, seeing those . . . creatures coming towards us. They walked much like humans, but they weren't corpses – they even used standard bows and daggers. They were much like a new breed of something. Something drew me to them though, as if they radiated a familiar aura.
There were only two, but my confusion made me a bit sloppy. The clang of metal made my head ache, and I couldn't correctly stab at anything. Merrill ended up having to kill the creature for me, and then I heard her say something, mentioning the word 'darkspawn'.
"Lysias, are you alright?" I heard her ask, and I panted, resting my hand against a tree as my second sword was hooked back on to my back, next to the other. I felt like I had run around the camp more times than my legs allowed (I didn't know the exact number, considering that I had never attempted such a thing).
"Yeah, ah, I'm fine, really." I mumbled, breathing out a shaky breath, before I stood up straight, and shook my head, and Fenarel walked up to me, examining me with his eyes briefly before frowning.
"You do look a little pale," he mused, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, darling, I haven't fed yet. Of course I look pale." I smiled, and Merrill looked a bit bothered by my wording.
Merrill was one other people, other than the Keeper, that didn't approve of the fact that I refused to be with women. She attempted to push me in the other direction, all the time, even after Keeper had said that she would allow it, especially since I originally came from another clan in which the rules were slightly different. Of course I understood that they wanted the clan to continue to grow, and reproduction would of course help with that – which was an understatement – but if I was forced to be with a female elf, that wouldn't cause me to produce a young, at all. Merrill gave up eventually, I think.
"Paler than usual, Lysias, you're nearly gray." He muttered, and I took went to look at my hands, but they were covered with my gloves, other than the tips of my fingers were my claws protruded. It probably wasn't anything too bad, so I figured that my paleness was probably still caused by my lack of feeding. Again, I was told that it had been days since I had awakened, which meant, there was no new blood circulating. I would worry about it later.
"I haven't fed in days, that's probably why. Stop worrying, lethallin." I offered a small smile, and we continued to walk, and I noticed Merrill glancing at me from time to time, and I growled in the pit of my throat. She was staring, she wouldn't stop staring. Her eyes made my skin crawl and the small amount of blood in my body boil. It wasn't just because I didn't like her, I just never liked staring. When Tamlen for did it I reacted the same. My tattoos glowed from my frustration, and I shook my head, trying not to let it bother me.
I didn't remember if she knew about my problem with staring or not, but regardless, staring was still rude to some, especially humans, I knew that well enough.
"What is it?" I snapped, turning my gaze to her with narrowed green eyes and she gasped, placing her hand to her chest as if she was taken a back by my words and the look in my eyes. I had done it before – she shouldn't have been surprised.
"I was just wondering," My gaze grew more venomous, and despite my returning headache I couldn't calm myself, the less blood I had, the worse my temper was, "why didn't you two come back to the clan instead of exploring?"
I sighed, and relaxed a bit more. Fenarel was silent, looking more alert, probably because he figured that we were paying less attention, which I could have admitted that I was. I could have been walking into a den of traps and not noticed, despite the fact that I was a rouge.
"We wanted to know if there was something worth mentioning. We've explored things before, and this never happened. Why would we waste Keeper's time and have her come to an empty cave rather than explore and have a reason for her to actually come?" My tone rose, just a bit, but I wasn't too rude; at least I didn't believe that it was.
She was silent, and I sighed, and walked a bit faster, until we stopped at a camp ground. My eyes scanned the area, and I noticed the fact that the place where the fire was happened to be rather fresh, it wasn't even cold exactly.
"Was this here when you came through before?" Merrill asked, and I shook my head slowly, brushing my clawed fingers through my hair.
"It probably belongs to the human that found me." I shrugged my shoulder, not knowing and really not concerned, but I felt that aura from earlier, again, and I looked around for a moment, hearing footsteps, but from multiple beings rather than just one, and again they were nearly human like in the pattern of steps.
With only that as a warning, more of the creatures from earlier walked closer, bow and dagger bearing. I pulled my swords from my back and sighed, quite tired of this. I would much rather just get to the cave, get Tamlen, and come back, but of course something had to ruin my plans. I blocked an arrow flying at my throat with one of my swords and I ran over to the attacking creature, catching the bow on the curved tip of my sword and I flicking it to the side, and swing the other blade to the side, cutting deep into the darkspawn's neck. The blood sprayed out against my skin, and I knew for whatever reason not to dare ingest it for feeding purposes, even though it was on my lips. It dropped, and I leaned down to examine it more closely, knowing that the other two could handle the others.
It was green, and its skin, as well as its armor was extremely cold to the touch. I tried hard to think of anything I could have possibly known about these creatures, but I came up with nothing. I looked back, seeing the other two elves waiting for me and I should my head and stood up straight, leading them to the cave.
"This is it . . ." I mused, with a hint of hesitance in my voice, which I figured that Fenarel noticed because he reached over to pat over my shoulder and again took my arm as we followed Merrill inside.
"There's . . . a strange air in here," she whispered and I nodded slowly.
"Tamlen and I said the same." I looked around, noticing the dead darkspawn littering the ground.
I followed the trail of darkspawn closely, and the other two followed. Nothing really had changed other than that fact, though the feeling was a lot stronger, and more consuming, as if it was drawing me somewhere. I shook the thought from my head and when we entered one of the rooms, more darkspawn appeared and I frowned. Honestly, despite the fact that I was mostly bothered, I wanted to know where they had come from. As we dispatched them, I mentioned to Merrill that they were not here before, and that all we saw were walking corpses and a large bear like creature in the room where I had lost consciousness in. I didn't hear her reply, though I expected that she only nodded.
I looked around the room for loot, then shook my head and continued though a door; following the old path I took with Tamlen before. I felt nervous again, but I knew that I didn't have Tamlen to talk to for reassurance, and plus, he told me that he was nervous as well which was comforting in the strangest sort of way. I nearly smiled at the thought, but then I remembered the circumstances.
We passed a statue that I remember speaking on with Tamlen, and I eyed it for a moment, then looked at the room where the mirror was, but the door was closed. Fear welled in my throat, and I swallowed, and then stepped forward, pushing the door open with my shaky hands.
"I can't look away . . ."
My eyes closed, and I half expected Tamlen to still be there, perhaps leaning against the mirror and just unconscious, but instead, a man stood there, examining the mirror and my heart sunk down to my hips and throbbed with a almost gasping pain. He turned to look at us and giving us an inquisitive look. I remembered his face, but I couldn't remember from where.
"You're the shem that brought Lysias back . . ." Fenarel spoke up first; right, that were where I knew that man.
"Oh, I remember your face. Thank you . . . for bringing me back." I whispered, lowering my head a bit as I frowned.
"You're welcome, but the mirror still affects you. I didn't expect you to live long after I found you," he seemed to frown at his own words, "I'm glad your Keeper had magic enough to keep you alive."
I looked to the mirror, and then I stepped closer to the man, crossing my thin arms over my chest. That wasn't making me feel better – worse actually.
"My friend touched the mirror before I blanked out. Do you know where he is? We came to try to get him back to the Keeper, before—"
"I'm sorry to say, but your friend is lost to us, and even if he wasn't, two days without help would have left him corrupted." He spoke softly, and looked away from me, my eyes instinctively dropped, as well as my arms did to my sides.
"But . . . he can't be! Tamlen might have gotten out; he might have left before you came and found me!" My voice was steadily getting louder, and my tattoos began to burn with the same intensity of the red that took them over. I hadn't fed, and I was straining myself too much, and the frustration was just making it worse, if I didn't calm down horrible things could have ensued.
"I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do. If he was left here, the darkspawn would have taken him." I shook my head, and stepped back, feeling my eyes water against my will and I stepped out of the room, pacing until I heard him mention the mirror. I glanced back in, and chewed on my lower lip. I wanted to take it back to the Keeper, just so that it could be looked at, but then again, I wouldn't want her touching it and getting sick like Tamlen or I.
" . . . the mirror must be destroyed . . ." Was all I really heard from what he said, and I hissed, though Fenarel grabbed my arms to hold me back.
"No! It might help us at least find Tamlen's body, if he is really gone we should give him a proper burial – w-we . . . I want to know where his body is!" I was surprisingly struggling against the younger elf's grip and I felt the liquid trail down my cheeks, which was even worse, considering that I was running low on blood, because along with the tears themselves, blood was secreted from my eyes as well when I cried.
He shook his head and I had no choice but to simply turn my head away until I heard the crash and shatter of glass pieces. Feeling weak, I squirmed, gasping out little panting sounds – a mixture of sobs and noises to emphasize the fact that I was running low on energies and still trying to push away from Fenarel. The shem went to speak to me, and I growled at him, considering spitting at him, but I wasn't that cruel; my eyes narrowed, though my sclera was red from the crying.
"You filthy shem! How dare you? We could have used that to help him, but you didn't even give it a chance! You didn't care did you?" he didn't respond to what I was saying, and that just encouraged me to continue on, "you're all the same aren't you? You only care about enhancing your own needs . . . " My voice dyed down as I realized what I was saying.
"He's a Grey Warden, Lysias, I don't think—" Merrill just made it worse.
"I wouldn't care if he was Andraste's servant boy!" I hissed, fanged teeth exposed in a snarl at her before I pushed out of Fenarel's arms and ran from the cave, silently daring something to come out and attack me, or even follow me from the cave; not wanting to see either of the three, and I was feeling dizzy. I needed to feed; I needed to at least keep my self from fainting and having demons come to my rescue. I didn't want it, that, or anything else. I just didn't want to admit that he could possibly be gone.
I rested myself against a tree and I cupped my face in my hands inhaling sharply. Even though I knew better, I felt alone again, utterly alone, and I didn't want to go back to the camp. I wiped the tears from my face, though I knew from experience that the blood dried quickly and had temporarily stained my now nearly peach colored skin.
"Why didn't I just pull you from the mirror?" I whispered to myself, pulling my hands from my face and shaking my head. I couldn't help feeling that it was my fault, I could have said no, or pulled him back – I could be persuasive. I sighed and started walking again, though I nearly stumbled from dizziness.
Looking around after I caught my bearings, and noticed a deer calf by itself, grazing. I approached, and it didn't seem too bothered by me, which was rather normal considering that they were used to the elves at this point. I gently stroked its nose, and leaned down closer, looking into its large brown eyes that blinked slowly and curiously at me, then it nestled against my hand.
"I'm sorry . . ." I mumbled, eyes resting on the creature's neck now, but it was the closest creature I saw, and it was either him, or possibly everyone else.
I walked myself back to the clan, hanging my head as I realized that my words to the Warden were probably horrible. He was there too, standing next to the Keeper, and at seeing me, Merrill and Fenarel walked away.
I walked up and I noticed that Keeper didn't give me a disapproving look, actually she looked saddened. I didn't understand – I had had bursts of anger before, and it never made her look that sullen.
"I spoke to Duncan while you were away, he believes that the only way to save you would be for you to go with him and join the Grey Wardens." She whispered, though was very much audible.
"W-wait . . . what?" I blinked slowly, biting at my lower lip before she repeated the latter part of her statement again for me, as if I hadn't heard her, and that was why I was questioning it.
"The only cure for darkspawn poisoning, which you have, is to because a Warden; if you don't, the taint will slowly kill you," he added, and I looked down.
I did say that I planned on leaving soon, didn't I?
"Alright, but . . . I—" I looked down and Keeper placed her hand to my shoulder, almost petting it.
"Funeral arrangements have been made for Tamlen, even though we don't have a body to bury. We will still plant a tree in his memory."
I smiled, faintly then hugged her, almost too tight, but she didn't mind, she hugged me back, stroking over my back with her small hand.
"Thank you, Keeper, and, Duncan . . . I'm sorry about what I said earlier, I was just upset . . ." I whispered and after I saw his nod I walked away to go pack my things, feeling that it was now or never when it came to doing something like that.
Walking back into the tent wasn't fun, to say the least. Tamlen's things were still sprawled where we left them, and I glanced to his bed roll before I packed my 'Orlesian sanctuary' into my bag with everything else that belonged to me that I felt that I could need. I paused for a moment, before exiting, then dropped by bag to the ground, and grabbed one of Tamlen's tunics, specifically the one he usually wore under his armor – that morning, he had decided on one that he wore less often – then his Sylvanwood ring that he kept under his bed roll. I sat, cross legged, on his roll and pulled one of my gloves off – the left specifically – and placed the ring on one of my fingers, though it didn't fit completely well because his hands were larger than my own, staring at it for a moment, before the glove was returned, and I placed, the tunic in my bag as well.
Much to my surprise, I managed to avoid tearing up during Tamlen's funeral, even as the seed was planted over virtually empty ground, which did bother me, I only hung my head, and tried not to think too much about what had happened. Even though Keeper had told me before the funeral had started that the clan would be moving soon, I vowed to myself to visit where the tree was planted, some day. I smiled at myself at the thought of something to look forward to, then when Duncan approached me; I knew what I now had to do.
I turned and looked around at the clan members, then sighed, pulling my bag higher up on my arm, my blades now resting against my legs, sheathed, so that I wouldn't get cut. I walked without passing a glance to most, feeling hands patting my exposed shoulder and hair, and the sound of sighs and sobs. I looked up when I got to Fenarel, and I hugged him, loosely, then smiled at him, and continued, shifting my eyes to Merrill, and offering the smallest curve of my lips, which she hesitantly returned. Noticing that Duncan was ahead of me, I gave Keeper and hug as well, whispering a thank you to her for even allowing me in the clan in the first place, then I went after the shem, not wanting to be left behind and at this point not planning on turning back.
"So, what is your name?" Duncan asked, at a seemingly random point while we were walking.
"My full name?" I asked, and he nodded, "Lysias Fortesque. In the clan, my last name was Mahariel, since I was hiding, but I don't think telling you my last name will cause problems. My middle name is Aristide."
"Right, you're not from Ferelden; your Keeper told me." He glanced at me, but continued to lead and I nodded. I hadn't the slightest idea where we were at this point.
"I'm Orlesian, but you probably knew that from the accent." I shrugged my shoulders, and blinked slowly, kicking my heels against the ground, and I looked around. At least there was a stone rode at this point.
He nodded in response, and I was tempted to ask him how he intended to keep me from dying, but I didn't. I'd find out eventually.
"And what . . . are you exactly? I've never seen an elf with their tattoos glowing like that, nor have I seen them with sharp teeth."
"A blood gather; against my will, a blood mage decided to make me a vessel for the blood he needed for his spells, and such, so that he wasn't risking himself for demonic possession." I spoke calmly, actually, since I had told most of the people in the clan, and this guy was kind of saving my life.
"I've never heard of such a ritual." He looking towards me, and I nodded.
"It's very rarely done. The vessel usually dies either during the ritual, or because of demonic possession." Again, he nodded, and I inwardly thanked the Maker because I didn't want to answer more questions about it.
"Again, I am sorry about how I acted earlier . . . I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, my emotions aren't always . . ." I sighed and he shook his head, offering me a slither of a smile.
"It's fine, I can understand. You two were close, I can tell by your reaction. At least I know a little about how you'll react to things. You don't have to apologize anymore." His words were actually extremely comforting, which I found strange; before everything he said had just bothered me.
"Ma nuvenin," I murmured in response, and we walked until we reached a town or so it looked. We stopped when we saw a man, in almost too bright armor, but the way it looked almost made me . . . want it – it reminded me or Orlais. So bright, so, well made; I shook my head at my thoughts. Now was not the time for this.
The face looked familiar though, as if I had seen the man somewhere. I didn't pay attention to everything, but something told me that this man was important. I, again, stayed quiet – eventually I'd understand, actually, I barely paid attention. I was looking around, pondering on the clan, and wondering if there was any food around because I was close to starving.
Blood was my means for survival, but I still liked food and craved for it, even though I wouldn't die without it. I heard him mention me being a new recruit, and I turned and tilted my head in a faux confused stare, then the man in the shiny armor held his hand out to me, and I shook it, hesitantly at first.
"This is King Cailan Theirin," Duncan said and I nodded, with a faint smile, bowing my head like I used to do in Orlais when I pretended to be a city elf because I was bored.
"And allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar," he smiled at me, and I was pleased by his cheerfulness, "Duncan tells me you're a Grey Warden recruit."
"And that I am, your highness," I glanced away for a moment, then finally released his hand, "your armor is nice, shiny, it reminds me of the ones in Orlais."
I mused to myself, and he seemed to just then notice my actual origins. With the accent, I was seriously surprised that he had missed it. I turned to look at him when I noticed the barely audible gasp and I raised a hidden light brown brow.
"You're Orlesian? How did Duncan—"
I didn't think it was proper to cut of a King, but I did so, "Due to . . . unsavory circumstances, I ended up in Ferelden; I've been here for two years."
He seemed to take this well enough and he gave me a quick glance and a smile before he walked away. Duncan turned to me, and shook his head, then walked me closer to the bridge that led into the actual area that was Ostagar.
"In order to become a Grey Warden, you must complete a Joining Ritual. Before we do that, however, I want you to find Alistair, a fellow Grey Warden, and after you do, come and find me." He spoke clearly as he walked with me, and I nodded in understanding.
"I like the King," I felt the need to mention, and Duncan gave a little chuckle, and then sent me off into the town.
Author's Note:
I wonder if people can actually guess who the voices are.
There's three people (one of them speaks twice, of course).
One of them may be a bit harder, depending on a few things.
This has to be the longest chapter of anything I've uploaded on this site.
*is proud of self* :)
And again, for any spelling or grammar errors, I do apologize.