The two were spotted by Leliana's scouts, who drew the attention of the rest of the encampment. Soldiers, scouts, and commoners alike gasped and cheered at the sight of the Herald, who was wearily leaning on Volyn as they descended the hill.
Cullen and Cassandra sprinted to meet them, looks of concern and wonder on their faces.
There had been a lot of talking after the initial shock had worn off. Both Velthorn and Volyn were clearly exhausted, but the elf wanted to make sure the others knew what they were facing.
He spoke of Corypheus and what he claimed to be, speaking in a fast, hushed voice as his companions listened. Volyn added what he could, and when they were finished with their tale, none of them really knew what to say.
Then Leliana has rushed Velthorn off to be inspected by a healer. The mage, named Adrea, looked over him and healed the few minor injuries remaining, but concluded that he was otherwise fine. He was given soup and a cot.
It didn't take him long to fall asleep, despite the fact that the four advisers had become embroiled in a heated discussion that was getting louder all the time.
As for Volyn, he was still hungry, so he scouted a meal and left the victim to sleep it off. Then he, too, found a cot and finally got some sleep.
Solas and Velthorn stood beside the Veilfire flame, away from prying eyes and ears. Just minutes ago, the Inquisition had, literally, been singing Velthorn's praise. The mood in camp had lightened considerably.
Solas was smiling at him. "The humans have not raised one of our people so high for ages beyond counting. Her faith is hard-won, Lethallin, worthy of pride."
Velthorn shifted his feet in the snow. "I'm only doing what I think is right. What I hope anyone would do in my situation."
"Yes," Solas agreed, nodding, "That is true. And noble. But does not diminish the problem at hand. The orb you described, the one Corypheus wields? It is ours."
"Ours? It's…elven? …All right, what is it? How do you know of it?"
Solas took a moment to script his next words. "Such things were foci, said to hannel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remain are references of these objects in ruins, and faint visions of memory in the Fade. Echoes of a dead empire.
"From what you witnessed, I believe Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach and that unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave."
Solas spoke more urgently for this next part. "We must find out how he survived…And we must prepare for their reaction when they learn the orb is of our people."
Velthorn stared into the oddly colored fire, thinking. A million things ran through his mind.
"Where would he even get such an object, if all that's left are memories? In all the stories I've heard growing up, and there were an ample amount, believe me, I've never heard of such an object actually existing to this day."
Like the younger elf before him, Solas was quiet for several long seconds. "That is something I cannot answer. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is elven, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith."
Velthorn sighed, looking out to the darkened mountains. The wind was picking up again and it was getting colder. The moon was hidden behind clouds, leaving the world below to a dark night.
"If we die out in this wilderness, none of this will matter." He looked at Solas with a small smile. "Besides, they'll find a way to blame elves somehow."
"I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but it needs room to grow."
"You have something in mind?" Velthorn asked curiously.
Solas gave him another of those tiny, secretive smiles.
And from where he sat listening to the two, Volyn didn't trust it at all.
"Scout to the north" had been Solas's advice, and so they went north. The first day was difficult. They needed to move a lot of people in unison and the hardest part was getting everything organized. Though people were motivated after the night before, the storm had been vicious, covering everything in a blanket of white.
"Does anyone know where we're actually going?" Dorian asked that day.
"North," Velthorn answered.
"Yes, but why?" the human insisted.
Velthorn sighed. "It's…hard to explain. A feeling. We need to head north."
Dorian didn't seem convinced, but asked no more questions after that.
Hope kept the people moving, but the cold was quickly sapping them of their energy. But when the weak or wounded fell behind, others were there to help them move forward. The Herald led the way.
"Your mark is changed. You said Corypheus tried to remove it. It seems that process altered it," Solas said, letting Velthorn had his hand back.
Velthorn nodded in agreement. "It feels different too. Less wild."
"Its configuration is more stable than before. The Elder One has a better understanding of the magic he wields than he did at the Temple of Sacred Ashes."
"That isn't comforting," the Dalish muttered. He looked out on the landscape and took another bite of his dinner. It had gone cold.
After several moments of silence, Solas asked, "Have you tried opening a Rift?"
"Opening one? Why would I—no, I haven't. Why?" Velthorn answered. He understood the educational benefits, but would that be worth the risk? Did they have enough Rifts to worry about without him opening new ones?
"I believe you might be able to," Solas mused, "Especially now that the mark is better than it was the first time. You may have full control over Rifts, summoning them and closing them at will."
"That would be…something, I guess." The elf looked down at his hand. The cracks under his skin glowed brightly.
"Speaking of the Rifts," Solas said, "I have been making some headway in my studies. I have developed something new, if you'd like to learn."
"Something new?" Velthorn asked curiously.
"Rift magic, I've called it. Not a particularly creative name, but apt." Solas gave him a wolfish smile. "It is relatively minor in comparison to what your mark can do, but anyone can learn it."
Velthorn didn't really have to think it over. "When do we start?"
After that, the days were spent traveling and the nights were spent training. Velthorn was surprised by the extensive amount of information Solas had gathered from studying the Rifts. Well, not surprised that Solas was able to collect it, just that there was that much information to gather in the first place.
Velthorn respected the older mage, but trusted him less with each passing day. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, and that Solas knew more than he was saying.
Sera had been telling him that since she'd joined. Velthorn was still disappointed she was right.
On day three, they found a Rift. By now, Velthorn had come to recognize what a Rift felt like from afar, so they weren't surprised by it. Many of the common folk cheered as they cut down the demons and slammed the Rift shut. They pushed themselves a little harder after that, energy renewed.
A week passed, and it was a strain on everyone. But as he crested the peak of a mountain on the last day, Velthorn saw it and knew the trip had been worth it.
Nestled in the high peaks of the mountains was an enormous castle. Though he could see several holes in the roof and a few places in the outer wall were crumbling, Velthorn was in awe. He'd never seen anything like it in his life. He imagined that he probably wouldn't see anything like it ever again.