The New Ways of Old Gods

by Valkyrie Shepherd

This is a continuation of DA:I. Astlyr Adaar has saved the world, Corypeuis is dead, and Astlyr's good friend Solas has disappeared for parts unknown (without so much as a goodbye). A call for Help. A changing Spirit. A deadly villain. Gods will rise, and war will once again be on the land. Can Skyhold, and its Inquisitor, survive?

14. Chapter 14

Part 14

Words on the Wall

"Here," The human builder, Christopher, got everyone's attention. He was standing at the far side of the massive temple room. Astlyr and her fellows reconvened to go to him. They had been spread about, looking for a door out of the caves under Skyhold, and also admiring the alters left for the other gods.

Fen'Harel fondly pointed them out as though speaking of friends he had seen only the day before. "Ah, this is Ghilan'nain's altar," he had strode over to the painting of a gold colored hala standing tall and impressive. It seemed larger, more well muscled than the hala Astlyr was familiar with. Well, she supposed, it was a god. "She was a good friend to me," Fen'Harel said, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"She plays in the river and the sunlight shining golden on the water matches her hair," Cole had been listening nearby. "I watch her and she slips so flawlessly from woman to hala and back again. As if she and the animal are truly one form. One being."

Fen'Harel had smiled thinly and touched his fingertips to the painting.

Now Astlyr and her expedition team had gathered once more to see what Christopher had found. At first Astlyr could not be certain he had discovered anything at all. Then, after a good deal of squinting, she made out the thin outline of what had once been an opening. "You see it?" the man asked, excited. "I looks like this used to be a door, but they covered it over. It might lead up right up into Skyhold!"

"Or down into a spider filled hole," Jones pointed out, though she too was curious, Astlyr could tell.

"Can we open it again?" Astlyr questioned, her eyes following the thin line she now knew to be the place where newer stones met ancient ones.

"We can try with the tools we have," said Rogers, stroking his beard. He pulled off his pack and took out a hammer, pick ax and short shovel.

"Wait," Fen'Harel stayed him. "You'll risk damaging the temple."

He had a point. The wall which the door had been built into was flanked on either side by the images of a elven deities, rendered flawlessly in fresco. "Can you open it?" Astlyr addressed the mage.

"I can certainly try," he said, his face growing determined. "Without a focus item such as a staff it may be difficult to carefully move so much rock."

Astlyr thought for a moment, then tugged the glove from her left hand. "Use me."

"What?" Fen'Harel looked at her as if she had suggested he pry the rocks away with his teeth.

"Try using me as a focus. I think Dorian did it once, when we were dying. Maybe you can get it to work again." she said, extending her hand towards him.

"This is...unusual," Fen'Harel seemed at a loss for words, a state he did not seem to know how to cope with.

"It can't hurt to try," Astlyr said, liking her spur of the moment idea more and more as she thought about it. If a god couldn't get her anchor to work, who could?

"It could hurt," Cole pointed out. He was standing beside her looking uncertain.

"Or, which is more likely, it will do nothing," Fen'Harel folded his arms, eyes considering her from behind dark lashes.

"Just give it a try," she coaxed, holding out her hand to him again.

Fen'Harel sighed, then grasped her hand. His slim fingers barely fit around it. He raised his free arm and magic slithered from his palm and fingertips. He moved his body gracefully to send the magic towards the wall. At first it only probed around the stones, like water seeking a way through a dam. Then he attempted to pry a few loose near the top of the doorway. He waved his free arm aggressively and Astlyr could already see he was struggling. She felt like an anchor herself, holding him back. He made a frustrated sound and let go her hand. "I can't move properly to cast," he sighed, giving her an apologetic look.

"I suppose that is the advantage of a staff," Astlyr smiled wryly as she looked down at her marked palm. "Of course, I have no idea if it would have worked. I'm just trying to get a handle on everything this anchor can do."

It took Fen'Harel perhaps twenty minutes to carefully remove the stones from the wall. When he finished his curls were drenched with sweat and he was panting heavily, but each stone had been placed meticulously to the side in a neat pile. He smiled victoriously at the waiting group. "Not bad," Astlyr said, folding her arms and giving him an affirming nod to show she was impressed.

"Thank you," Fen'Harel huffed, resting his hands on he knees and letting his head droop, like a runner who had just finished a race.

Cole appeared beside the elf, but did not seem overly concerned with his condition. "He should be given a mana potion," the boy concluded.

"Well, if these stairs lead up to Skyhold he shall have one," Jones was standing in the newly revealed doorway, holding out her torch to illuminate a stone staircase leading upwards.

Astlyr moved to take the lead, as the passage was narrow, allowing only one person at a time, especially if that person was qunari sized. Soon Astlyr detected a scent. Something more than the musty earthy smell all around them. The air here was close, filled with the motes of ages past. Now she thought she caught a whiff of fresh air. Just a fleeting scent of it, but it was enough. "I think we're coming near the exit," she called back to her followers.

"Good," Jones said. "I am no dwarf, and all this time below ground is beginning to get to me."

Astlyr had to agree. While she certainly spent a goodly amount of her time in ancient dungeons and temples, deep underground, she would much rather be under the open sky. So long as that sky did not have an ugly green tear in it. She raised her arm for her followers to stop and she smashed her knuckles against the ceiling. Grimacing she rubbed her hand and called back in a hushed voice, "I think I hear talking. I suspect we may be coming up somewhere near the stable."

"I can smell manure," Myfanwy, who was directly behind Astlyr, commented. "I think you may be correct."

"Is there a trap door of some kind to let us out?" asked Jones, trying to lean around the odd procession to see.

Astlyr reached forward and her hand contacted with something solid which wasn't stone. She held her torch closer, trying to see. "Is this wood? How could it have lasted so long?"

"It appears to be Ironwood," Myfanwy explained, managing to get an arm past Astlyr to touch the door. Their only exit was set at an angle above them, almost horizontal. "I think we'll be coming up from under ground. The door was likely covered over with sod when the humans built their military fortress on top of the elven temple." she speculated, shooting an uncertain glance back toward Fen'Harel who was walking at the rear of the party with Cole.

"Likely," the god agreed, still sounding winded.

Astlyr handed her torch to Myfanwy and climbed a few more steps. She put her shoulder and back to the door, feeling her horns scrape against it. Dirt and cobweb fell in her face. Tensing her muscles she pressed upwards. There was very little give. Likely the frozen ground and snow above her would require a good deal of strength to shift. "Maker's balls, I hope we didn't build a stone floor over the top of this."

Fen'Harel began to slide up past the other explorers, his slender frame making the going easy, until he was standing beside Myfanwy in the cramped stairway. "Let me," he said, and with a few tight motions he sent magic surging towards the door. There was a cracking, breaking sound which Astlyr wasn't certain she liked, and then the rumble of earth being shifted. Above them someone shrieked in surprise. Astlyr, taking her cue, threw her body against the door again, baring her teeth and snarling, which always made her feel more powerful.

The door gave way under the combined magic and brute force. It burst outward, more broken than opened, and Astlyr found herself completely blinded by the winter sun. Dirt, snow, and a few pieces of horse droppings, fell in on her and left her spluttering. She felt something pass her shoulder and suddenly Cole was above her, outside and blocking the sun from her face. He extended a hand to her, which she took, though she did not trust much weight to it, as she was more likely to pull her friend back down into the hole than he was to haul her out.

Myfanwy had been correct about the smell of horse droppings. The door opened just slightly to the right of the slop pile. A stable hand stood gaping at them, the wheelbarrow of manure she had been pushing toppled before her in the snow.

Astlyr turned to help those behind her out of the stairway. She knew she looked a mess. Covered in dust, dirt and now animal scat. There were cobwebs stuck to her horns. Still she gave the stable hand her best smile. "I have made a new discovery about Skyhold." she announced as though the Inquisitor appearing inexplicably out of the ground was perfectly normal. "Please tell the stable master to have the slop pile relocated."

"Er...yes...ma'am," the stable hand sputtered, then turned and darted off, leaving her wheelbarrow where it lay.

Cole righted the wheelbarrow and used the fallen manure fork beside it to shovel all the slop back in as Astlyr pulled the rest of her people from the hole they had created. As she took Fen'Harel's slender hand she gave him an appreciative nod. "Good job in there," she said, "and thank you for not murdering me."

Fen'Harel laughed weakly as he allowed himself to be helped, "you are most welcome, Inquisitor. Though I cannot imagine the energy I would have to expend to kill one such as you. I have seen you in action, remember, fighting dragons and demons."

"True," Astlyr mused.

Once everyone was free of the earth and dusting themselves off in the cold winter sunlight, Astlyr took stock of the situation. "Alright then. This expedition went as well as we had hoped. Perhaps better, having discovered a new elven ruin beneath us. Now we must concentrate on keeping our walls in one piece. This tunnel should make it all the easier. Rogers, I put you in charge of this project. Requisition what tools and materials you'll need and I'll make certain you get them. Not to mention whatever manpower you require."

"Thank you, ma'am," the dwarf looked immensely pleased. Astlyr noticed with amusement that he did not bother to wipe the grime from his own clothes, but rather seemed to treasure it. She suspected several normal sized spiders were already nesting in his beard and she shuddered, but smiled none the less.

"Will you begin right away?" Astlyr questioned, bending down at Jones' insistence so the woman could finger comb a few smaller spiders from the qunari's hair, which was falling loose from its bun.

"I think I will ma'am. I'm eager to get to it." the dwarf beamed.

"Well, I need a good change of clothes first," mumbled Timmon, the elvish builder. "I think there are seven or eight crawling creatures somewhere on my person and I should like to remove them, if it is all the same."

"Of course," Astlyr agreed.

She turned to Myfanwy, Guardswoman Jones, and Fen'Harel. "Jones, please take Fen to the mage tower. Wait outside with him while one of the mages brings him a lyrium potion or two."

The Dread Wolf gave Astlyr a thin smile. He was leaning against Myfanwy and looking in desperate need of a nap. "You're still distrustful of me, Inquisitor."

"I'm afraid that will last for a long while," she said, giving his shoulder one of her genlter pats, which still almost toppled him over. "But please, stop calling me Inquisitor. Solas-you- used to call me Astlyr."

Fen'Harel's face brightened slightly, "I didn't know if using your name the way your old friend had done, even if he and I are the same man, would upset you. I'm glad to call you Astlyr again."

Without thinking the qunari gave him a fond smile, which he returned and she felt a fleeting warmth. As though she was finally seeing that long lost friend again. She shook off the thought, letting the warmth go with a sigh. She stretched her back with her palms against it. "Alright. Everyone go about your business for the moment. Get washed up. Then, if you like, please join myself and what members of my circle I can hunt up, for dinner at the tavern."

Jones' face lit up like a new dawn, "May I, Ma'am."

"Of course, Jones, that's why I invited you. Though if you're not careful, Varric is going to give you a nickname."

Jones looked as though nothing would delight her more as she moved off with Fen'Harel and Myfanwy. "You two are invited as well," Astlyr called to the two elves. Then she turned to her remaining companion. Cole stood, watching her with a quiet calmness which was unusual for him, though not unheard of. "Come with me?" she asked the boy.

"Yes," he replied simply, walking along beside her, hands clasped before him, into Skyhold. He remained silent, a rarity indeed, as they made their way past the latest inhabitants of the fortress, though his head did turn or tilt from time to time as she suspected a noticed someone's pain. Whatever pain he felt must not have been serious because he kept pace with her without much distraction.

In her quarters she shut the door and gestured that he should make himself at home. He sat down on her bed, taking off his hat and placing it on a bedpost. Pulling up his feet he watched her. Still waiting for her to say what he must already know was on her mind. Astlyr walked to her dressing table and poured water into the basin there. She began to wash her hands and face, wiping her horns with a few quick motions. The cold droplets ran down the back of her neck. Face washed she picked up a hair brush and began to cope with the mess that was her hair, finally addressing her guest. "Are you feeling alright now, Cole?" she asked. "You were worried before, in the cave. Something about changing?"

Cole nodded, grasping his toes and resting his chin on boney knees. "Yes. There is something...different. I still hear voices, calling to me for help. Some serious, some lesser, but..." he stopped, gnawing on his lip and looking confused.

"But what, Cole?" she asked, setting down her brush. Her hair now fell like a silver waterfall down her back all the way to her butt. She moved to sit beside the boy, actually raising his portion of the mattress with her weight. This caused him to tilt towards her and end with his shoulder against her bicep, his head resting on her shoulder. He didn't correct this position, but continued to contemplate.

"I feel them less sometimes."

"You think you might be losing the ability to sense others' pain?" she asked. She didn't need the boy's special abilities to know how much this idea frightened him. His greatest, and possibly his only joy was helping others. What if he could not longer use his greatest tool to aid them?

"No. And yes. I'm confused, Astlyr," he said, his soft voice with its gentle lisp almost too quiet to hear. "No one here knows about spirits, and even if they did, I am unique. I asked Fen'Harel, but even he doesn't know. I still feel the pain of others, but now I feel some of it...more."

"What do you mean?" Astlyr questioned, wondering if she should put a motherly arm around the boy, or if that would spook him. This interpersonal stuff was confusing.

"Like yours. Or Dorian's, or Varric's," he said, tilting his head up to look at her with his baleful eyes. "Sometimes, when new people come to Skyhold, I don't even feel their pain right away. Especially if I am far from them, but yesterday I noticed when you stubbed your toe all the way on the other side of the fortress."

"And you wouldn't normally?" she met his gaze steadily. His sad, unwavering eyes as blue-grey as a winter sky before a storm.

"I might, but it would be lesser pain. I should only truly sense it if I was very near you, or if you had broken your toe."

"But you noticed it as if it were a bigger pain?"

"And right now Casandra's ribs are aching. Not badly. Enough to be bothersome. She wants to read, but can't get comfortable." the boy reported.

"So you notice your friend's pain more?" Astlyr clarified. "And strangers less?"

"Sometimes," he spoke as though making a horrible confession and looked down at his hands. "Not always," he hurriedly added. "But I am worried, Astlyr. What if I can't sense others any more? What is happening?"

"I don't know," she admitted sadly.

"You wish so badly you had more you could tell me, to make it better," Cole filled in for her, still studying his fingers. The nails were cracked and he had a cut on the back of one hand. "I'm sorry to burden you with it, Astlyr."

Without thinking she grasped the boy's shoulders and turned him to face her, "Cole, you are to always burden me if you need to," she instructed in her firmest tone. "If you want to come to me, come to me. No matter what, alright?"

"Except when you're dressing," he pointed out.

"Yes," she chuckled. "Not then. Then wait a few moments."

"I like making people laugh," Cole admitted, a thin smile appearing on his wan face. "I'm not very good at it. Varric makes everyone laugh. Laughing is a kind of helping sometimes."

"It certainly is," Astlyr smiled at the boy. There was the familial tug of fondness she felt for him. She let go his shoulders and moved back to get her hair brush. Then she scooped her hair into a hasty bun and pinned it. "Was there anything else you needed to tell me, Cole?" she asked, offhandedly as she pondered his situation, wondering who she might find who could help them.

Cole thought for a moment, then answered, "he lies to you sometimes."

"Who does?" she turned from her mirror, hair pin clamped between her teeth.

"Fen'Harel. Sometimes he lies to you," Cole grimaced, "it is so hard to tell. His pain is like a dense fog over his mind. Crushing loneliness so ancient I cannot see through. Only sometimes. When he lies to you I don't sense any malice. I don't think he wants to hurt you, but he does lie, and you should know."

Astlyr finished her hair, turning to face herself in her mirror, but watching Cole instead. He had retrieved his hat and tugged it back on. "Thank you, Cole," she said simply.

"You're welcome," the boy answered.

She pondered his words as she swept stray hairs into her bun, carefully avoiding her horns. As a teen she had scratched herself a few good times with those horns, as they had reached their adult length. "Would you like to join us for dinner, Cole?" Astlyr questioned.

"I don't eat," he reminded her.

"I know. You'd come just to be there. To be around your friends." She selected a new tunic from a wardrobe. "I should listen for Morrigan," the boy said. He did not sound sad about this. It was merely a statement of fact, as was his way.

"Alright," she smiled at him and he returned it, though his smiles could often be mistaken for a wince. "I'll see you later then. And Cole, remember what I said about you coming to me no matter what?"

"I will," the boy nodded, wide hat brim flopping, "thank you."

Then he was gone, leaving only a rush of icy breeze and puff of dust. She stood for a moment, thinking as she pulled on her clean tunic, discarding the old one in a hamper. She knew how distressed the boy could become if he believed he was a danger to others. The fact that he was speaking calmly meant that he still thought himself safe. She hoped it would remain so. She had once promised Cole that she would kill him if he became a demon. She had thought, once they found the amulet, that she would never have to face that day. Would he come to her and demand to be slain? She shuddered. Would she be able to keep her promise, if he was indeed corrupted? She pushed these thoughts from her mind, striding out of her room to see which of her friends she could locate and interest in a good evening meal.

She found Josie first, though this may have been because the woman was looking for her. The diplomat rushed up to Astlyr, pen aflutter, as she tried to get the Qunari's attention. "Is it true?" she asked, eye bright.

"Is what true?"

"That you jumped off the wall, then appeared out of the ground behind the stables? The rumors in Skyhold are already abuzz. Some claiming you walked out of a Fade rift in the earth. Or that you jumped off the wall into one. Others claim you are a mage and have been hiding your abilities all this time."

Astlyr laughed too loud and several alarmed faces turned in her direction. "Maker, that shit spreads fast. Well, the people will find out soon enough that yes, I did jump from a wall, but it wasn't with magic. Just rope. We found an ancient elven temple under Skyhold and we even found a door to get back here without having to climb back up the wall."

"Excellent," Josephine chirped, smiling as she hastily scribbled with her pen.

"Would you care to join me for a meal, Josie?" Astlyr questioned.

"Of course," the woman bobbed her head in a half-bow half-nod. "There are many important matters we can discuss."

"Of course," Astlyr said, trying to keep up a cheery tone. She spotted Varric, writing quietly in his usual spot. For whatever reason he liked to work out in Skyhold's main hall, where there was always noise and bustle. He had told her once it helped keep his creative juices flowing. She beckoned to him to join her dinner quest, and he did so without hesitation. Astlyr almost turned left, at Varric's spot, to stick her head in the door of Solas office and invite him to join them as well. She stopped herself before her friends noticed.

She suspected Cassandra would be out in the training yard, and with any luck, Cullen would be with her. Iron Bull was finally out of the infirmary, and had taken up his old residence, and likely his old chair, in the tavern again. That left Dorian (who knew where he was?) Viv and Blackwall. She suspected that Blackwall was out of Skyhold again, aiding in snow removal in some of the smaller villages with clustered at the feet of the Frostbacks like chicks in the down feathers of a mother hen.

As they walked, Josie continued to shuffle through her papers, giving her report. "We have had more word of trouble in Tevinter."

"Good," muttered Varric.

"The slave markets continue to be raided, at some loss of life. Two noble households have been sacked. All their slaves freed, and in one case, all the masters slaughtered." the woman continued.

"Slaughters?" Astlyr hesitated. "They're killing slave owners now?"

"We can not be certain that this is a pattern as of yet," Josephine held up a staying hand. "Our spies have been instructed to report anything pertaining to elves. These slave market raids and the attacks on the two noble houses may be two separate incidences."

"Should we tell Dorian?" Aslyr questioned, having reached the bottom of the long stairs out of Skyhold proper she turned to head towards the practice yard. "So he can warn his family, just in case?" She knew Dorian's parents were slave owners themselves.

"That might be wise," Josephine shrugged, marking something on her paper. "Closer to home we have also heard reports of alienages in Orlais being emptied. These are more like rumors, and we have no definitive evidence as of yet, merely anecdotes. The alienages which have supposedly gone empty are all in small, outlying cities."

"I see," Astlyr said, rubbing the back of her heck. This was a lie, she didn't see at all. Could these reports be connected, or did they merely seem so because she had asked for news about elves? "Any word from the queen about my Teyrn-ship?" she asked, deciding to let the puzzle of the alienages drop for the moment.

Josephine shook her head, "It will take some time for the two knights to return to her majesty with all this snow, and then she shall have much to consider."

"Of that I am certain," Chuckled the dwarf. Astlyr wondered briefly how he seemed to know of Queen Anora's offer, but then she shook her head and smiled. Not much went on in Skyhold without the keen eyed and eared dwarf picking up on it. Perhaps he had charmed the pages into talking, or bribed Josephine with her favorite treat, a cinnamon sticky bun.

"Cas!" Astlyr called as she spotted her friend. The woman was sitting on a log in the practice yard. She was flexing and stretching her arms, though there was a book in the snowy grass beside her. Astlyr chuckled. Cas was seldom without reading material, as tough a warrior as she was. It would be as odd to see her without a book as without a blade. "Care to join us for a meal?"

The woman stood, if a bit stiffly. "I would," she replied, bending slowly to pick up her book. "I've been trying to get back into form," she sighed, walking up beside Astlyr and nodding towards the small practice yard, "but it is always a challenge after a wound. I have to keep taking breaks."

"At least, thanks to me, you always having something to entertain you during those breaks," Varric pointed out.

Cas snorted, swatting playfully at the dwarf with the book. "This isn't even one of yours, you hack."

"You wound me," Varric clutched both hands to his chest in mock agony, staggering just out of her range.

"I was hoping Cullen would be training with you," Astlyr tried to get Cas' attention as she made a few more attempts to cuff the nimble Varric.

"He was. He went into the tavern to find us something to drink and has yet to return. I suspect he may have discovered a game of chess."

"Excellent. When he is finished trouncing whoever he's playing against, he can join us," Astlyr said, smiling. "Should we invite Viv?"

"Wouldn't want her to feel left out," Varric broke off from the group, heading for the mage tower to locate the elegant woman.

Soon Astlyr and her company were assembled. She found that Cullen was indeed deeply engaged in a game of chess, with the young templar, what was his name, Titus? Dorian stood over the newcomer's shoulder, whispering advice in a way which Astlyr knew was more flirty than merely friendly. She smiled as she waited for them to finish their game and join her group.

The meal was excellent. Astlyr suspected it would have been so even if the food had been the simplest fare. The group was noisy, boisterous, and happy. The last time Astlyr could recall a moment like this was when they had finally defeated Coryphius, only this time she could look across the table and see Fen'Harel amongst her friends. He bantered with the best of them. Keeping up with Varric's quick wit and Cassandra's dry humor.

Soon the bard being playing and dancing was called for. Astlyr sat watching as Dorian and Vivienne attempted to teach the others new steps from The Winter Palace. Fen'Harel was the most willing, and also learned quickly. He seemed to find his footing no matter what song was played. Varric taught Myfanwy an easy jig and she danced it with him, laughing. Astlyr was startled by Myfanwy's laugh. Like the bright calling of a morning bird. Delightful and lilting. The two were joined in their circle by Jones, who danced with skill, if not grace, her straw colored hair down in a loose braid twisting back and forth as she capered with her new friends. Without her armor Astlyr noticed that the short-statured guardswoman had a curvy, but muscular figure. She moved easily, without inhibition.

When he wasn't dancing Astlyr noticed that Dorian spent a good deal of time chatting with Titus, their heads together, almost conspiratorial. She smiled to herself as she watched them.

"Not much for dancing eh?" Cullen set down a fresh mug as he took the seat beside her, his eyes on Varric, Myfanwy, Fen, and Jones who were doing a country circle dance and obviously having a wonderful time of it.

"You know I have two left feet," she sighed, feeling jealous of the merrymakers. "And when your feet are as big as mine, being a clumsy dancer could get someone killed."

"You danced at the winter palace," Cullen pointed out, tilting his chair back as he stretched and relaxed.

"You couldn't see how many times I tread on her hem," Astlyr pointed out. "It was a wonder she had a skirt left by the time I was finished tripping all over it."

Cullen laughed. She liked the way his face could be so open. No sign of the tight worry-lines that were often etched onto his brow as though he were stone. He looked years younger in the light of his mirth. He caught her watching him and gave her a questioning glance. She hurriedly fixed her eyes back on the dancers, just in time to see Cassandra join in. Though she seemed a little uncertain, the warrior woman soon picked up the steps, kicking up her heels, one hand on Varric's shoulder, and his on her waist as he could not easily reach her shoulder. Astlyr laughed at this and caught Cullen watching her this time.

The revery went well into the night, ending with small groups moving to chat in low tones before finally drifting off to their various quarters. Cullen and Astlyr held a conversation about the rebuilding of Skyhold, and of her adventures below ground. Fen'Harel and Myfanwy joined them and added details to the story.

"We could certainly use the space," Cullen said as the two elves, breathless from dancing, plopped down in the seats facing himself and Astlyr.

"Fen, would it dishonor the elvish beliefs to allow humans to use the rooms down there?" Astlyr questioned. "You said they were likely places where pilgrims visiting the temple would stay and we have a lot of 'pilgrims' here ourselves."

Myfanwy looked uncertain. It was clear she had thoughts, but was once again keeping them to herself. Instead she deferred to her god. Fen'Harel considered for a long moment. "I can tell you what other elves might say," a smile tugged the corner of his mouth. "That the place is sacred and must be left untouched by shemlen hands as much as possible. As one of the people depicted on that wall, I know that the elves who once journeyed to leave offerings and climb a frankly ridiculous amount of stairs, have been dead for ages past. We would be wise to use the space to Skyhold's advantage."

Astlyr watched Myfanwy's face. "I don't like the idea of messing with the temple," the qunari said, "Perhaps we shall use the rooms, but ensure that the temple itself is preserved and watched over. Elves will be allowed to worship and leave offerings there as often as they like."

This seemed to brighten Myfanwy's mood considerably. Cullen furrowed his brow, "I'm not certain I like the idea of an elvish place of worship here at Skyhold. We have kept ourselves as separate from the chantry as we were able. Can we invite another religion without upsetting the chantry folk?"

"We're not inviting. It was already here," Astlyr pointed out. "I don't think avoiding it is the right choice. Skyhold was originally an elvish place and I think we need to acknowledge that. We are what we are here. We didn't build the temple, but we shouldn't pretend it isn't there."

To Astlyr's surprise Cullen conceded, "You're probably right. Let the chantry be angry if they like. They'd probably be more upset if they found a fortress built on top of one of their sacred places."

The group chatted on, keeping the conversation light. Finally Astlyr yawned and stretched, almost taking out a nearby server with an ill placed arm. She pulled her errant limbs back, awkwardly, "I think it is time for me to retire," she announced. She looked around at the weary faces of the friends who were still present. Cullen was asleep in his chair. Myfanwy was nursing her last cup of ale. Fen'Harel had moved off to play a lethargic game of chess with Jones.

Astlyr stood, moving towards the door. As she reached it she felt a hand touch her elbow. She turned and saw that it was Fen'Harel who had stayed her. She leaned down slightly to hear his quiet voice as the two of them walked out of the tavern into the cold night.

"I wanted to speak to you further, Astlyr, about the elvish temple."

"Direct and to the point," Astlyr smiled lightly, pulling her coat more tightly around herself. "What of it?"

"I believe there is more that it could reveal to us..." he hesitated, and she sensed he was nervous, "if we visited it in dreams."

"In dreams?"

"In the Fade," he said, his voice had a tightness and he moved as though he expected her to strike him.

"How does that work?" she wondered stopping to face him. The torches shone from the wall sconces below where the guards patrolled the battlements, but the moon would have been enough light for her to make out his pale features.

"When we visit a place in the Fade we may unlock secrets it holds only there."

"Such as?" she tilted her head, planting her hands on her hips. She was keenly aware that she was alone with him in the darkness. She did not feel overly concerned that he would hurt her, it would have been foolhardy to try, but Cole's words about Fen'Harel's lies were fresh in her mind.

"I am uncertain, but there is much history, much memory locked in that place. Some has likely become lost and hidden away by the ages. In the Fade time doesn't flow as it does here. Time is mere a suggestion to the Fade."

"What do you want from me?" Astlyr questioned, brow raised.

"You trusted me today, to take me with you on your expedition. I ask you to trust me again. Trust me even moreso. Come with me into the Fade and see what the ruins might hold for us before too many people disturb what lingers with fresh thoughts and feelings."

"Now you sound like Cole," Astlyr said, folding her arms for warmth. Andraste's tits it was cold. She could see the elf shivering as he stood, looking up at her with an earnest expression on his moonlit face. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"You don't," Fen'Harel answered, his blue eyes pleading.

Astlyr glanced towards Skyhold wondering if she should fetch Dorian, or another mage to accompany them for safety. Fen'Harel's eyes followed her gaze, and as if he read her thoughts he said, "more magic will have a greater chance to drawing the attention of ill meaning spirits."

"Convenient," Astlyr mumbled, more to herself as she wondered if his words were true. This was the trouble with knowing that someone was dishonest. Now she expected a lie at every turn. "What about Cole?" she asked.

Fen'Harel considered this for a moment, then nodded. "He would be welcome to join us again."

"Alright," Astlyr's throat felt tight as she answered, and she knew what Cullen and her other friends would say. They'd call her mad. Again. She shuddered. One of these days her willingness to wander into the Fade was going to get her killed and prove all her companions right. "But we can't be there long," she warned.

The elven mage nodded. "I told Myfanwy what I planned, which is why she has not followed me."

"I was wondering where she was. She's been your shadow since even before you woke up."

"It will be nice for her to have some time without me," Fen'Harel said.

Astlyr wondered if the elvish woman even liked the god she had spent her life preparing to serve. Myfanwy never voiced any complaint. The inquisitor turned to scan the base of the wall, looking for a familiar shape. She spotted him, standing quietly in his assigned position, listening for Morrigan's pain in the winter stillness. "Cole," she spoke just loudly enough for him to hear.

He was at her side in a blink, and Astlyr shivered as the cold gust which usually accompanied his teleportation added itself to the already frigid breeze. The boy took in her state and vanished again. Before she had a moment to look around and try to locate him he had reappeared bearing two thick, woolen cloaks, one for her and one for Fen'Harel. Both accepted these willingly and Astlyr explained the plan to the boy.

"Alright," Cole said. He was in a surprisingly good mood about the suggestion, Astlyr thought, but it gave her confidence.

"You're certain?" she asked Cole as she wrapped the cloak he had brought around her broad shoulders. She was pleased that he had located a qunari sized one.

The boy tilted his head, taking in Fen'Harel, who was fiddling with the clasp of his cloak. Cole spoke rapidly, in the way he did when sensing someone else's pain. "I want to help, but must not break the chain, the promise. Something greater is coming, but we must be smaller. Move in little steps like a careful dance. Quick like a bird in the snow."

"Alright..." Astlyr wasn't certain she understood what any of that had to do with the task at hand, but it was always interesting to hear what a god's anxiety might be. She didn't like the sound of 'something greater is coming', but knew she wouldn't get a straight answer if she asked.

To her surprise Cole continued. "Alone, always alone when faced with danger. The old ones are coming. She is awakening them, and she does not know how to control them. She loves more than she fears and she mistakes more than she understands. She is wise, but hungry. The hunger makes her stumble. She awakened the vengeful one and he will lord over her. She mistakes and I...I am so weary of being alone."

As Cole finished Astlyr looked at the elf rather than the speaker. Fen'Harel made firm eye contact with her. She understood that he was allowing Cole to see this pain in him. She still wasn't certain she understood what it meant. Who was the 'she' that had awakened the vengeful one? Astlyr herself? She supposed perhaps she did mistake more than she understood, but the implication still hurt. If his thoughts had indeed been of her and not another woman, or perhaps a goddess. "Are we going straight down to the temple?" she asked, her breath misting out before her.

"Yes," fen'Harel nodded. "Before we are greatly missed. I believe this task will be one of mere hours."

"Well, that's alright then," Astlyr said sarcastically. "As long as it only takes you hours to trap and kill me."

"If he tries I will kill him," said Cole, with a ferocity to his voice like the edge of a blade. Astlyr didn't often hear that tone, and it made her skin prickle even under the warmth of her new cloak.

The three trooped across the snowy courtyard. A few guards looked at them strangely, but then they spotted Astlyr and didn't question the strange night-time procession. The door to the stairs down to the temple had been cleared during the day. Already tools and stone were littered about the opening, ready to be used the next day to shore up the tunnel and keep the wall from collapsing. The slop pile had thankfully been relocated, though the pungent scent of horse droppings still lingered on the snow. Astlyr suddenly realized that she had not thought to bring a torch.

Fen'Harel made a few deft motions and his hand was alight with veil fire. It coiled like fluctuating ribbons around his slender hand. "I will light the sconces once we are in the temple," he reassured her.

The three trooped downwards. Or rather, Fen and Astlyr trooped. Cole teleported down and was waiting for them in the temple. Astlyr was struck by how open the place felt, even though it was underground. After the narrowness of the stairs it felt wonderful to be able to stand with her back straight, not having to worry about painfully cracking her horns into unexpected protrusions from the ceiling.

If possible the temple looked even more grand now, with only the green glow of the veil fire illuminating it. The gold in each grand mural shone brightly, glinting as though it was fresh-forged, not covered in years worth of grime. Fen'Harel lead the way to the picture of Dirthemen. As he held up his magically illuminated hand Astlyr could once again make out the map, glowing faintly with all its strange symbols, which she could only assume were ancient elven writing. What a pity she didn't trust Morrigan. It would be helpful to have someone else who could read the wall besides the man she knew was prone to lying.

"So, what do we do?" Astlyr asked, pulling her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. The cold here had a different quality. Without the wind to bite you it instead crept slowly into your bones without you noticing until your extremities had gone numb.

Fen'Harel lit the nearest veil fire torch and extinguished the glow in his hand. Then he turned and sat on the floor, his back resting against the mural wall below the map. He tucked his cloak in around himself so he was well covered and looked expectantly at the other two. Astlyr sat down, folding her long legs into lotus position, then arranging her own cloak over herself. Cole came to rest on her other side, shoulder just brushing hers. He folded his hands in his lap and looked meditative.

Astlyr had never been good at meditation. Fortunately a combination of sleepiness due to the lateness of the hour, and a bit of ale from the night's festivities, aided her as she let her eyelids grow heavy. She tried not to think about how cold the stone was beneath her, or how numb her ass was going to be when she woke up. Like Cole she folded her hands and let her chin fall to her chest. It was not long before she opened her eyes again, this time to the Fade.

"Holy shit," she exhaled. The Fade version of the temple was astounding. Instead of a ceiling the pillars reached up and up into a greenish sky until she could no longer make them out. The column carved to look like water in her world was a gushing pillar of liquid which never seemed to splash over or spill a drop on the floor. The one shaped like a wolf twitched the end of its tail, though she could not see its head, it was far too tall. Her ears were suddenly filled with sounds. Speaking and singing. Laughter, wailing, begging and calling. She turned to look for her companions. Cole was still beside her, and once again in his healthy looking spirit form. This time he seemed less secure, apparently not eager to leave her side.

Fen'Harel had stood. He had chosen to appear in his first form again, fiery red hair a bright contrast to the greens and blacks of the Fade. He strode over to the map, squinting up at the images there.

Cole made an alarmed sound somewhere between a yell and a squeak. He jumped and grabbed Astlyr's arm. She turned to see what had spooked him. The temple was now full of shadowy people, moving around and through one another. One walked right through her and Cole, though she felt nothing when it did. Cole flinched, clearly disliking the entire situation. The people appeared to be elves. Their clothing came in strikingly variant styles, from lavish to the simplest garb of peasants. Some of them were taller than any elves Astlyr knew. She glanced sideways at Fen'Harel. He was tall in his current form as well. Perhaps there were different kinds of elves she didn't know of. Sometimes the spirit shapes interacted, but more often they appeared not to notice one another. "What are they?" She asked, watchful.

"Memories," Fen'Harel turned to see.

"I've never seen memories like this," Cole said, still holding on to Astlyr's arm. She was again struck by how warm his hands were in the Fade.

"They will not harm us," Fen'Harel assured them, moving out to scrutinize a few of the figures. "You have seen similar memories, Cole. When we traveled in the Fade and encountered the fear demon. It used a perversion of Astlyr's memories and gave them form."

"I hated it there," the boy mumbled, finally letting Astlyr's arm go, but not moving away from her.

"Is something creating these?" Astlyr questioned, looking around. It was difficult to tell if there was anything there besides the sea of semi-transparent elves.

"Not creating, no. But definitely strengthening. I believe we may be in the presence of another spirit."

"Not a demon?" Astlyr questioned, her hand straying to her hip where she already knew she wore no blade. She wondered if she might use her anchor to any effect against a demon. Fen'Harel still had his magic of course. Damn mages and their connection to the Fade. Then she saw something. A flash of gold and white. The scuttling of many legs. "Shit," she spat.

Cole, who had more control over his own form here, as a spirit himself, suddenly gripped twin daggers, the curved blades seeming to smoke with an otherworldly green. Grand. Now she was the only one unable to defend herself. As she took up a stance, ready to at least use her size and strength to her advantage, whatever those were worth in dreams, the elf memories vanished. Above them, latticed elegantly between several of the pillars, was a gigantic spider's web. It seemed to be made of silver light and shimmered with pockets of trapped Fade magic, like dew. Astlyr swallowed. Ever since her encounter with the fear demon she had had no concern over spiders of any size, but she wasn't eager to face another now. Not without a sword in her hand. This would be an especially a large one, judging by the sprawling nature of its web.

"Hello," Astlyr jumped as Cole stepped forward, no longer holding any weapons. "My name is Cole."

A golden spider as big as Astlyr herself had crept into view from a shadowy corner of the web. It stared at her with many eyes as black as midnight seas. It waggled mouth-parts, but said nothing, seemingly unwilling to draw nearer.

"Don't be afraid," the boy pressed. "I'm a spirit, like you. This is my friend Astlyr. She is kind to spirits."

Fen'Harel moved closer, tilting his head back to take in the softly shimmering creature in the web. "This is a spirit of history," he said, a smile quirking a corner of his mouth. "This is more than I could have hoped for. That one would be so near. They are rare indeed."

"Why is she afraid?" Cole asked, turning to look at the elf.

"I am uncertain," Fen'Harel answered. "Perhaps it is merely because she has not interacted with any like us in many ages. Some spirits are wise enough to fear our world, and the denizens of it."

"But I'm not a denizen of anywhere," Cole said, looking back to the spider, his brows coming together with concern. Astlyr knew that look. It was the expression he wore when he faced a problem he did not know how to solve. This always troubled him greatly.

"Could she be afraid of the anchor?" Astlyr questioned, clasping her hands behind her back as though this might help.

"Perhaps," Fen'Harel said. He turned his attention to the golden spider above them once more. She looked ready to draw back into the shadows. The elf god spoke to her, in what Astlyr could only assume was ancient elvish, for a long moment in a soothing tone.

Astlyr watched Cole, who seemed as unhappy as ever, wringing his hands. For some reason seeing the look of sadness he always wore in the real world now fixed to this, healthy, youthful face, made Astlyr's heart tug. Sorrow was wrong on this face. It was the face of a boy with everything ahead of him. Love, happiness, a family. Things that Cole could never have nor, perhaps, ever desire.

When Fen'Harel stopped speaking the spider made a motion with one graceful foreleg. Astlyr jumped and forgot herself, reaching once more for the hilt of a sword she was not wearing. She cursed herself inwardly. She was behaving like a wild animal backed against a wall, not like a friend to spirits. At least Cole seemed much calmed now that all the memories had stopped roaming about.

The spider plucked a thread of her web like the string of an instrument. A small figure appeared in the midst of the friends. It was a little girl, tinted greenish with Fade magic, and semi-transparent as the other memories had been. The child was elvish, as made evident by her ears, and looked to be perhaps ten. She moved with a certain, quick gate to the mural of Dirthamen. There she took something from her belt. It looked like an ordinary stick, but as she pressed it to the wall it left a glowing trail. Carefully she marked the map with letters and symbols, none of which Astlyr could understand.

The girl stood on tiptoe to reach as far as she could, her small face intent with deep concentration. At one point she even stuck out her tongue as she focused. Finally she was finished. She tucked the stick back into her belt and walked away. The marks slowly vanished as Astlyr and her company watched. Then the spider pulled the thread again and the girl reappeared, and she began repeating exactly her actions from moments before.

This time Fen'Harel carefully studied everything she wrote, every mark she made. He nodded from time to time, his red curls dancing like firelight. His sharp features striking in the Fade-light. The little girl finished her work again and walked away. The spirit of history poised her leg over the web, as though asking if they needed to see the memory play out once more. "No," Fen'Harel raised a staying hand. "I have what we need."

"And what, exactly, was it that we needed?" Astlyr questioned, feeling she was pointless in this situation.

"The location of two hidden foci." Fen'Harel answered, his shoulders slumping, as though he did not take pleasure in what he had to say. When he looked up at Astlyr it was the cautiously.

"Hidden foci? The magical items belonging to the old elven gods?" Astlyr asked, trying to decide how concerned she should be getting. Did Fen'Harel intend to continue what Mythal had begun? To waken all the elven gods?

"If we can locate and obtain them," Fen'Harel explained hastily, "we can keep them out of the hands of Mythal and Elgar'nan."

"Mmmhmm," Astlyr folded her arms, raising an eyebrow. She didn't need Cole to tell her that the god wasn't telling her the whole truth. "Alright. An interesting idea, but-"

Cole grabbed Astlyr's elbow in a vice-like grip, his eyes suddenly wide, "Malice! Hate! No no no! Why didn't I see?! We need to wake up. Right now!"

"What? Cole?" Astlyr asked, turning to her friend, but he was already gone. He'd left the Fade. "Fen, we need to wake up!" she turned to the god.

Seconds later she felt her horns clattered against the wall she was leaning against. Cole was kneeling over her, shaking her shoulders none too gently. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes she heard a thundering roar from above that could only be classified as an explosion. The whole place shook and a hunk of grit fell from the ceiling and landed near Astlyr's leg. "Maker's balls!" she struggled to her feet and began running towards the stairs in the same motion.

****Oh man you guys! I wish I could share the next chapter with you right now, but you'll just have to wait until next week! I need to keep my cushion of a few chapters ahead of you to help with editing and keeping the story consistent. But Oooooo I think you will find the next chapter most exciting!

OK kids, I need your help. I like the spirit they encounter in the temple being called "a spirit of history" but my hubby (who helps edited these) thinks that it shouldn't be called that, as a human could never embody 'history' and he feels spirits should only be things that people could embody. So...what are your thoughts or suggestions for what else I should call her? or do you like the title she already has?

As always feel free to comment about anything you like! It always brings me joy to have proof that people are reading! 3****