Away to the Tirashan! The fabled forest of dark secrets nestled in the crook of a mountain range that may as well be the edge of the world. But how best to travel? Easily, up the Imperial Highway, far to the north of the peak called Arl Dumat, then south again along the forest's edge? Due west, through the dry and arid plains of the Western Approach, where an ill wind might blow toxic fumes from the Abyssal Reach? Or a middle path that cuts directly through the Nahashin Marshes - not as roundabout as the northern route, nor as deadly as the westerly?
Yes, that will be our path, as our heroes are well acquainted with the swampy Korcari Wilds and do not fear the marsh. They pass by poor Orlesian rice farmers, half-submerged ruins - Tevinter or elven, who can say? - and rumors of yet another of Flemeth's daughters. A huge water snake makes the mistake of hunting them, and a great chunk of it winds up spitted over a fire.
Urthemiel Plateau slopes down here, and they ascend, avoiding the steeper climb that would have awaited them to the south. Once upon the plateau, they turn toward the towering, smoking sentinel which is to be their guidepost. This is a lonely land, far from the court of Empress Celene, where tyrants and would-be saviors gather in equal numbers. The Dalish find a wary welcome - their people are sometimes traders and sometimes raiders in these parts. They soon learn the way toward a Dalish encampment under the shade of the Tirashan, a day's travel northeast of the great volcano. That must be their destination, and so they set out on their journey's last leg...
"Aneth ara!" Ariane called as they drew nearer to the camp.
"Andaran atish'an,soeurs." Three guards finally made their presence known. Through gestures, broken Orlesian and fragments of elven, Ariane and Vashti were able to communicate peaceful intent. The guards, no less frustrated than they at the situation, took them straight to the Keeper.
He was a very elderly man, whose white eyebrows lifted in surprise when he heard the Ferelden tongue. "Ah!" he chuckled. "Many years since I have heard it, when a lad I was in the Planasene. Never would I think to hear it spoken under the boughs of the Tirashan. You have come far - please tell me why. Aisho," he turned to a nearby boy, "bring bread and mead for our guests, ma serranas."
"Ma serranas," Ariane echoed in turn. "We are grateful for your welcome, and bring news I hope you will find pleasing. First, have you heard of the new homeland in the south?"
The Keeper chuckled again. "I have heard rumors of such, but also that it is a cold and dark place; I have heard that there is a fortress, and I have heard that the marshland is haunted. Hearing one thing and another - we have been slow to set forth."
"We come from Ostagar, the fortress," Vashti said. "Dwarves are rebuilding it, and it houses many lost treasures of the People. The land is colder than here, and damp, but not haunted."
He rocked back in surprise. "Well! My First and I will have many questions for you, I think. Perhaps we should leave, after all, and let the shemlen face the consequences."
"And that's the other bit of news," Ariane said. "We are tracking the humans worshiping the dragon. They have taken our friend, and we mean to get him back."
"Ah, so you know already of what I speak. Yes. There is an ancient temple of Sylaise on the lower slopes of the volcano," he told them solemnly. "These cultists have taken it over and defiled it. We have tried repeatedly to push them out, but..." He sighed. "We have failed, and lost many hunters in the trying. They have strong magic as well as the dragon herself."
"Ariane is an allan'isa," Vashti reported. "That will help with the mages."
"I... am," Ariane confirmed, blushing to the tips of her ears.
"We are honored, then," the Keeper said, inclining his head. "Ah, Aisho, you are returned. Set the food there..."
As the refreshments were laid out, Ariane leaned toward Vashti. "I can explain..." she whispered.
"Of course, lethallan," Vashti murmured, unconcerned. "Later."
They accepted the hospitality of an aravel that was vacated for them. It would have been rude to refuse. The dog stayed under one of the encircling canvas wings while the two women gratefully repaired to the narrow beds inside.
"So," Ariane started self-consciously, "you, um, noticed what I did to that paralyzation glyph."
Vashti nodded. "I suspected for a long time. You told me you were a hunter, but I've never met a hunter wearing that much metal. Scares the deer."
Ariane sighed. "You said you were Morrigan's friend. My duty was to reclaim our book, no matter what. So, I thought maybe I just shouldn't mention it. You know."
Vashti didn't look like she took offense. "You didn't know me," she said easily. "Why tell me all your secrets? But," and now she did frown, "why not later?"
Ariane stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Finn. I know with the humans... their mages and their templars don't get along. He's already so nervous about everything. And it hadn't much come up. You tend to put an arrow through the eye of every darkspawn emissary we meet before the battle even starts."
Vashti grunted. "Fair enough. But I think Finn will understand the difference." She laid back in her own bed. "Surprised Keeper Solan lets you out so much."
"There are enough allan'isa around Ostagar," Ariane waved it off. The warriors who specialized in protecting mages and slaying abominations were generally rarer than the mages themselves. Not every clan even had one, although it was considered unwise to perform a waking ritual without one in attendance. Passing Beyond while awake generally drew demons to the mages.
"Surprised you're not bonded."
Uh. Ariane blinked up at the darkened ceiling. It was a reasonable enough observation - she was an adult, and one with a prestigious calling. And it wasn't as if Keeper Solan hadn't suggested she bond with his First twice in the past year. "I... was," she finally answered, unconsciously twisting the ring on her finger. "Garol died during the Blight."
"Ir abelas," Vashti said quietly.
"He joined our clan at the last arlathvhen and became the senior apprentice to our craftsmaster. We were not together long, but he was a good man. He didn't deserve what happened to him... Darkspawn," she said, recalling that there had been many kinds of violence that awful year.
"Nobody deserved that," Vashti agreed. She paused and added, "It is to the credit of your clan that any survived, and are free of the taint. We came to many places where they had erupted out of the ground and just... destroyed. Everything."
"I... know that," Ariane said slowly. "But I am... still making peace with it. I know I was across camp when they came; there was no way - no way - I could have made it to his side before... before he died. I just... wish there had been."
It was not as hard to speak of as she had feared, and that was a relief and a source of guilt both. She had been a widow now twice as long as she had been a bride; if she had not healed at all, something would be very wrong indeed. But at the same time, a small voice reproached her for forgetfulness. "It's not forgetting, is it?" she asked aloud. "I remember him, of course I do, but I cannot water his grave with tears forever. That... doesn't make me false. Right?"
She heard the Warden shift position, but got no answer. She turned her head to peer through the darkness and saw that Vashti had rolled up on her side and was staring at her. "You... you think it does?"
The Warden startled. "No!" she protested vehemently. "No. It is the business of the living to... live, lethallan." She rolled back over and dropped her head to the bunk. "To live," she repeated, wondering.
Ariane was no fool. Vashti had lost much herself, and - if Ariane was any judge at all - healed less. Had she been waiting for the same sort of permission Ariane had just asked for?
Ariane hoped for good things for her friend but, when Vashti didn't say anything further, Ariane let it go as well. Garol's spirit was summoned up, and the melancholy memories left her with little interest in counseling Vashti as well.
The Keeper was sketching them a map to the temple of Sylaise when a scout jogged up breathlessly. He made his report in Orlesian, glancing anxiously back the way he came.
"That is no good news," the Keeper frowned. "Six armed shemlen in the forest, heading this way. Too small a group to be a shemlen lord come to run us off, but they carry no trade goods."
Ariane and Vashti shared a look. Vashti indicated the gilded griffon, now badly scuffed and somewhat patched, on her chest. "Did they wear this symbol?"
The Keeper asked the scout, who looked closely at the symbol and then nodded decisively. Ariane groaned. "That plaque Finn read! It must've told them enough to send them to 'the shadow of Arl Dumat' as well."
"Who are they?" the Keeper asked patiently.
"Grey Wardens," Vashti said. "But not friends." She turned to Ariane. "We should lead them away from the camp."
Ariane remembered the carriage accident and how Commander Thierry had insinuated they would have been treated had it not been for Vashti's Warden commission, and nodded. "It'll make approaching the temple more difficult."
"Difficult is what we do," Vashti grinned.