*****Last chapter we found Astlyr being saved by wild animals and not allowing Fen'Heral to have a pity party (she always gets stuck blowing up the pity balloons). Bur what happens now? Who is that mysterious Halla, and will they be able to stop the new threat that has come calling?!
Ps. Love Cole and Astlyr as much as I do? Here's another cute pic of them I drew: art/I-wanted-you-I-needed-you-526225269****
Part 20
The Goddess Abroad
"So," Astlyr peered at the golden halla, who stood away from them, watchful. The creature's beautiful and unusual coat shimmered in the light of the waning moon and of the nearby fire. "Who is this?"
Fen'Harel beckoned the halla with a gesture and the animal dipped its head, stepping closer. It huffed a gout of steam as it stretched its neck to allow Fen to run a hand along it. The halla's fur was at its winter thickness and it looked quite soft to the touch, but Astlyr didn't dare. Instead she stood still, as she might when trying to interact with an ordinary halla. "The Dalish call her Hanal'ghilan. It roughly translates as 'to find' or 'pathfinder'. Some say that she is capable of seeking out the goddess Ghilan'nain. In reality the creature you see before you is the goddess herself."
Astlyr whistled low. She was getting too used to the idea of elven gods to question these things any more. At this point Fen'Harel could have pointed to a rock and claimed it was the ancient god of granite and she would have taken him at his word. Of course, the rock had not saved her and her peoples' lives. "So she's been here all this time?"
"She has not always dwelt here in the Plains, no," Fen'Harel said, still running his hands gently through the halla's thick fur. It seemed to shimmer all the more brightly at his touch. Astlyr took a moment to admire the beast. Powerful legs and neck, accented by the strange, spiraling horns on its head. "She has traveled widely."
"The Dalish told me that golden halla sometimes appear. A good omen, as I recall. Is she the only one?" Astlyr questioned.
"The People originally bred the desirable white coat trait into the halla, so it would only be natural that it would vary over time. More golden halla may have begun to appear shortly after The People fell." he looked sadly at the elegant creature beside him. "Perhaps," he said tightly. "she was compelled to mate with a few males and produce golden offspring." He spoke softly to Ghilan'nain, "I am so sorry, lethallan, for the indignities you have suffered. I only wish I had come to free you sooner." The halla placed her head in Fen'Harel's hands.
"Perhaps the rest of my team should hear this," Astlyr said, gesturing towards the fire where the others huddled. The night was growing steadily colder and even Astlyr shivered, especially without her cloak.
Fen'Harel nodded. He spoke to the halla in a low voice, but Astlyr recognized the lilting cadence of the elvish tongue. Though she spoke not a word of it herself, she still enjoyed the way it sounded. Like a song without a tune. She had always felt the common tongue to be a bit graceless. The way it mashed together words and syllables from the languages of men, dwarves, and even elves. What must it be like to speak an undistilled language? She pondered this as she and the wolf god rejoined the others around the fire. They all moved instinctively to make room for Astlyr in their circle, but seemed to hesitate before allowing Fen'Harel to join them. Finally Cassandra spoke up, "will you be honest with us now, elf?"
Fen'Harel stared firmly into the warrior woman's eyes and did not falter as most would have. "I will. I am sorry that I kept things from you. Years of walking my own path and finding no one to trust has taught me to guard my knowledge fiercely. But perhaps the times have truly changed. Perhaps even gods may have no secrets."
"They may not," Cas said, her voice low and dangerous. It was clear that he had made a mistake and repetition of it would lose him the seeker's good grace forever.
Fen'Harel took a seat beside Astlyr when a space was made, though not before returning her cloak to her by settling it over her shoulders. Myfanwy watched her deity with an unreadable expression. Astlyr studied the elvish woman for a moment. Myfanwy was very good at hiding her emotions behind a stoic wall, but Astlyr could hazard a guess, and she knew a few words with Cole could confirm. Instead she shot the spirit boy a warning glance, which he understood. Rather than blurting the anxiety of those sitting in the tense circle he instead encouraged them to have a handful or two of snow to sooth their raw throats. Astlyr did just that, feeling the welcome coolness numb the pain.
Fen explained to the others what he had told Astlyr. They all looked to the halla, who was standing nearer the fire now, large ears cupped forward. The horses eyed this strange creature with obvious distrust and moved to the other side of the fire from her. "So what happened with her?" Varric asked. "Did she ask for your help, or was she one of the ones you tricked?"
Fen'Harel looked ready to shoot Varric an insulted reply, but instead collected himself, answering carefully. "Ghilan'nan asked for my aid. She, like myself, had few followers and little investment in the world as it was. She disdained the pomp and frivolity of The People, and the coming of the humans was the final straw for her. She asked me to help her escape. We worked a spell to lock her in her animal form, so that no magic or torture could force her to change back."
"Looks like it worked a bit too well," Dorian pointed out, still scrutinizing the halla.
"It did," Fen'Harel agreed, his voice soft with sorrow. "We became separated from one another before I could help her escape and she was forced to flee alone. Without my aid, and her foci, she was unable to transform back to her true shape."
"You had her foci?" Dorian questioned, tearing his gaze from the halla-goddess.
"Yes. I was to keep it safe for her. For a time I was in possession of many foci."
There was a suspicious muttering all around. "That sounds awfully convenient for you. Holding all those items of power." said Cassandra.
"My intentions were honorable," Fen'Harel protested.
Astlyr glanced at Cole. The boy had his eyes fixed on Fen'Harel as though he intended to bore a hole in the man with his gaze alone. Cole's eyes flicked to meet Astlyr's for a moment, as though he had sensed her unspoken question. "He has opened more of his pain to me," the boy said, his eyes darting back to fix themselves on the elf again. "It's through a warped glass, but I can see the shapes of his despair. If he is lying to us then he himself believes the lie."
"Alright, so you helped your friends to hide away, and you forced or tricked those you didn't like as much," Varric clarified. "Am I understanding the story so far?"
"Yes, in the simplest terms," Fen'Harel smiled thinly.
"With all your old friends tucked away, what did you do with their foci?" asked Dorian, who had speared a potato from the fire with a stick and was tossing it from hand to hand to cool it.
"I hid the foci where I thought they would be safe. I intended to slumber for a short time. I had no suspicion that I would sleep so long. When I woke I found that many of the foci had been discovered and stolen, or simply misplaced by the people of this new world. Mythal only recently recovered her own. I was meant to gather others, but obviously that was not my true intention." Fen'Harel folded his hands in his lap and looked down at them.
"So now she is setting about finding foci and raising the other gods," Astlyr said, her voice low, as though she suspected spies were listening in from the rocks nearby.
"I fear She has already raised too many. We are sorely out matched," Fen'Harel admitted tightly, still not looking up from where his pale fingers were meshed together with anxiety.
"She loves too much, and She mistakes too much," mumbled Cole, still watching Fen'Harel as a hawk watches a rabbit. It was an odd contrast, Astlyr thought, to see the slip of a boy staring down the god as though he were the stronger. A mouse daring a wolf to make a move. Yet Fen did not exert whatever powers he may possess, instead continuing to look cowed in the face of these mortals and their otherworldly companion.
"Mythal believes what she is doing will bring about the world as it was. A world where She was powerful and loved. She can feel the emptiness, the weakness She has here, but She recalls all too keenly what it was to be worshiped. She will do anything to have what she once had."
"Would you?" Astlyr questioned, her dark brows coming together as she scrutinized the elf.
"No," Fen'Harel said, though he did not sound pleased. "For better or worse I understand that this world will never again be what is was in ages past. We elvhen gods will never again rise above all the people and stand cloaked in power beyond imagining. Too much has happened. Too many other races now thrive across these lands, and to bring our world back we would attempt to destroy theirs. I cannot let this be." He heaved a weary sigh. "Mythal sees all others as lesser. She was not as fortunate as I. She did not discover friendships here."
"Who said we were friends?" Astlyr snarked, giving Fen's shoulder a playful shove with her elbow.
The elf chuckled, if a bit sadly. Cassandra sat forward, tenting her fingers, "So that man who attacked us with the poison smoke, he was called June?"
"Yes."
"And he was one of your fellow gods, and so is she?" the warrior woman gestured to the halla standing just outside the firelight.
"Yes," Fen'Harel finally raised his face to meet the scrutinizing eyes of the group.
"Do you want to free her?"
"I do," Fen nodded, loose curls of dark hair falling messily over his brow with the motion.
"How do we know she will not attack us. You said that June was no enemy of yours until he felt that you had failed him. Will she not feel the same way?" Cassandra's expression was shrewd, calculating.
"I do not believe so, though I cannot be certain," Fen'Harel answered. The halla made a soft grunting noise as though she had understood that she was being spoken of.
"Was it her foci that June escaped with today?" Astlyr asked, stabbing a potato for herself from the ashes of the fire. The treat had been wrapped in thick leaves which prevented it from becoming too sooty. Astlyr gingerly unwrapped her dinner and bounced it from hand to hand as Dorian had done until it cooled. Varric passed her a little packet of salt and she took a pinch to flavor her meal.
"No," Fen'Harel looked pained. "It was the foci of Falon'Din. Known in these ages as the god of the dead."
"Maker," Dorian exhaled the word, eyes growing wide. "That doesn't sound good."
"Falon'Din is not inherently evil," Fen'Harel said, his tone almost scolding. "It is a human idea that death is an evil force. The People believe that Falon'Din guides the fallen to the afterlife."
"Did he?" Astlyr tilted her head, questioning as she finished her dinner, licking salt from her fingers.
"After a fashion. You must understand that death of old age was rare in the ages of the elvhen. The People were very long lived. Death usually occurred in battle, often pointless conflicts encouraged by the bickering of the gods. At first Falon'Din walked the battlefields, much as Compassion might have done, aiding those who were suffering into death and giving them comfort. Some claim that he could follow their spirits on the journey to the afterlife, though I had never seen this."
"So he's a nice fellow then?" Varric asked, tossing another log onto the fire. The flame sparked and danced, reflecting red as blood on the snow.
"After a time he became like the others. His own followers were not numerous, but were possessed of great death magics. A more powerful version of what you wield, Dorian," Fen'Harel gestured towards the necromancer.
"That sounds fascinating," Dorian admitted. Astlyr knew that her friend was forever studying. Trying to better his knowledge and prowess.
"But where Dorian is cautious, Falon'Din was reckless. He little cared for method as long as it yielded results. At his worst he was known to kill his own followers to reach his ends," Fen'Harel looked deeply sad as he watched the fire dance, devouring the fresh log.
"He walks the field and kneels beside a dying man. 'Water' the man pleads, and the death god brings the waterskin to his lips. Heat and hate and horrors reflect in his eyes and leave no mark on his mind. Death is his home and it understands him. He places a blade to the dying man's neck and red water spills onto the field. His thanks is a whisper on a deathly breeze. He was kind to them once. I remember him then," Cole said, in the rapid way he always used when reading someone's pain. Astlyr knew he must be feeling Fen'Harel's memories of Falon'Din.
"And now they'll revive that death god fellow and then what? Turn him against us?" Varric questioned, frowning.
"In a fashion," Fen'Harel said. "They believe they are on the side of The People and against those who threaten the world that was. A world they still believe belongs solely to the elvhen. There will be much death. Falon'Din will feel justified."
"Maker," groaned Cassandra. "What can we do about it?"
"Very little," Fen'Harel admitted. "I would like to revive Ghilan'nain. She may be able to aid us in some way. Though she is but a lesser god, as I am."
"You are no lesser god!" Everyone jumped. It was the first time Myfanwy had spoken and her voice was hard as flint. Her brown eyes danced with firelight making them seem to burn with their own inner flame. "My brother and I did not follow a lesser god. Daveth did not give his life to one lesser. Having few followers does not make you unworthy to be as strong as those others."
Fen'Harel looked at Myfanwy with deep emotion on his features. Astlyr could not fully grasp what passed between them with only a look, but she understood that it was powerful. She could almost feel it, like magic in the air.
"Do you know where Ghilan'nain's foci is located?" asked Dorian, interrupting the moment as he moved to prepare his bedroll. Once again the season made it too difficult to make pitching tents worth the effort, but they had chosen a spot to camp sheltered by the large rock formations which were plentiful on the Plains.
"Yes, if it has remained where I placed it." Fen'Harel affirmed.
"And that would be?" Astlyr questioned, hoping adamantly that it was not in the Hinterlands. They'd have quite a trek ahead of them if that was the case. It was a goodly ride east from the Exalted Plains.
"It is located in the Emerald Graves," Fen'Harel said, and Astlyr breathed a sigh of relief. That was very doable. She glanced sideways at the golden halla, who was still watching them intently. "If the foci is not where you put it, perhaps we could try something else," he looked down at her hand, gloved against the cold. In her mind's eye she saw her mark, etched in green on her skin. "Perhaps you are strong enough to do what Mythal did and use my energy to help Ghilan'nain back to her true form."
"Perhaps," Fen'Harel's brows came together in a concerned look. "However I would rather leave that as a last resort. I am uncertain of the technique and I fear I could do more harm than good to everyone involved. Your mark, and its powers, remain a steadfast mystery to me. As other memories become clear over time, I have no new recollections of the anchor. Either it is not elven, or it remained well hidden from us until I slumbered and my companions were locked away."
Astlyr shrugged, still scrutinizing her hand as though she could see through her glove. Then she too spread out her bedroll and tucked herself inside. The group had long since worked out watch rotations, only changing them if someone requested it. Cassandra took first watch that night, kept company by Cole. Astlyr suspected that some reading would be done as one kept an eye on their surroundings. Often she was woken by the steady, soothing sound of the seeker's voice, reading aloud to Cole as he patrolled the camp like a watchful hound.
As Astlyr tucked herself into her warm, waterproofed sleeping roll she heard movement near her. Fen'Harel had spread his own bed beside hers. Though he was between her and the fire and his face in shadow, she could still make out his blue eyes. They shone a bit like an animal's might, catching and reflecting ambient light. "I wanted to thank you," he said, very quietly so no one else would hear.
"For what?" she asked, tucking her chilled lips under the hem of her covers and watching his eyes.
"For not turning me away when you found that I had lied to you. I know it wounded you, and I am sorry."
"It was a wound I was expecting," she admitted. "Cole knew you weren't always upfront with me."
"Than I owe you two debts of thanks," he said. She could just make out the shape of his face. Though it was still definitely Daveth's there were features which reminded her of Solas. She could almost imagine it was he who lay beside her in the snow. She felt a pang in her heart. Though the man before her was one and the same with the man she had known as Solas there was still a difference about him now. Where once he had carried himself with confident pride he now seemed beaten. He often behaved like one expecting a blow at any moment. It made her nervous that he might still be holding something back. Perhaps not telling her how severe the situation with Mythal and her gathering forces truly was. Still, she saw glimmers of the proud wolf within this man. He was not beaten yet.
"You're welcome," she smiled, though she suspected he could not see. "As Cole could tell you, for better or worse, I'm just an old softie in the end. It had better not come back to bite me," she raised an eyebrow in warning.
"Never fear," there was a glimmer in Fen'Harel's eyes now. "This wolf will only bite your enemies."
"That was bad," she groaned playfully. "Don't tell Varric, he'll want to use it."
"Was it?" she knew he was grinning.
The next morning Astlyr scanned the camp as her crew packed up. She was bent over, seeing to Smoke's hooves. Balls of ice had formed in his feet over night and she picked them out with a hoof knife, tutting with displeasure. "Winter can end any time if feels like it," she grumbled.
"I hate to tell you, but I think we have a few more months of this shit," Varric commented, throwing his saddle onto Juniper's back. The small horse didn't even look up from pawing the snow looking for grass underneath.
"Ugh," Astlyr grunted, finishing with Smoke's feet and taking a sack of grain from her saddlebags to feed him from her hand. The big horse ate greedily and she enjoyed the warm tickle of his lips against her palm. He sent grain flying as he munched messily and Juniper gobbled up the fallen bits faster than Smoke could.
"So we're on to the Emerald Graves then?" Dorian asked, saddling his own horse.
Cassandra strode over and fixed the cinch for him. "Dandy won't thank you if there's a twist in the strap," she said, not unkindly.
"To be honest I used to have servants to saddle my horse for me," Dorian admitted as he let Cas show him how to best tighten the cinch.
The seeker instructed with a firm but patient tone. "Some people will knee the beast in the belly to make him let out his air, but I find that walking him in a circle does the trick." she said, demonstrating.
Astlyr shot a glance at Fen'Harel, who had been quiet all morning. He did not seem as beaten as the night before, and his graceful, upright posture was returned. Still, he went about his business in silence. Myfanwy too was quiet and did not make much eye contact with her god. Astlyr could sense the rift between them. Cole appeared beside her, astride Shadow. The old horse didn't even twitch an ear at the sudden weight of the boy. He was quite accustomed to his unusual rider. "They will be alright," Cole said in a whisper to Astlyr. "She is hurt and angry, but she will recover. They don't even need my help for that."
Astlyr shot a sideways glance at her spirit friend, concerned that he might be unhappy that he was not needed. He seemed content, his hat flopping with each step Shadow took. He let the horse's reins hang loose, knowing that Shadow was tied to Smoke, and would likely have followed the larger beast anyway. Feeling some relief that at least her party was not about to break down, Astlyr settled into the business of a long ride.
The trip to the Emerald Graves took about a day and a half. The riding was good, and the snow held off, though it threatened with brooding skies full of morose clouds. The golden halla kept up with the party, about two horse-lengths behind. Astlyr wondered aloud, as she grained Smoke on the second day, if the animal-goddess needed any feeding. The halla had snorted and tossed her head, clearly insulted, and Fen'Harel had chuckled.
It was clear that no one in the group quite knew how to react to the halla goddess. It was as though she were an unusual spy in their midst. Where normally banter would have kept spirits up as they rode, instead there was only the sound of hoof-beats and the distant call of winter birds.
The Graves, in summer almost impossibly green, were now bathed in undisturbed white. It almost hurt to look at. Even the animal tracks were few, though she knew for a fact that this area had a great deer and nug population, not to mention the giants, many of which she had personally slain. There was more tree cover here, and it was hillier than the Plains. Large rock formations still stood tall against the snow, but they were fewer. Astlyr breathed the frosted air, still glad of the feeling of a full breath. She would not soon forget the sensitization of being unable to get air. She wondered if that was what drowning felt like.
"Drowning is faster," said Cole.
"Oh...thank you," she muttered dispassionately. She turned to Fen'Harel, who rode nearby, seemingly lost in quiet contemplation. "Do you think Celwydd...June," she corrected herself, "will have found Ghilan'nain's foci as well?"
"It is possible," he answered, scanning the terrain as though searching for a familiar landmark. "We must hope he has not. If he had not collected it before our encounter I doubt he will have afterward. Myfanwy left him with a nasty wound."
"I was aiming for his lung," the elvish woman grumbled, having obviously been listening in.
"He will seek healing, but it will take him time to recover," Fem'Harel said, giving Myfanwy an appreciative nod. "Your excellent shot bought us some time."
Myfanwy's lip twitched as she tried to contain a proud smile.
Fen squinted again at the snowy landscape. "There," he pointed. One of the wolf statues that Astlyr was starting to notice were scattered all over Fereldan stood out amongst a stand of dormant ash trees. Snow nested in the curve of the stone beast's back and between its upright ears. She heard Fen'Harel make a sound of relief as he dismounted and moved towards the statue on foot.
"Hold on," Astlyr barked, recalling the last time they had gone to find a foci. "Myfanwy, do you notice anything out of place?"
Fen'Harel stopped reluctantly as Mywanfy scanned their surroundings with a practiced eye. "A herd of deer came through over there, but stayed well back from the alter," she pointed and Astlyr followed her gesture to see the tracks, barely visible as they wound down a natural path between two hills. "And there, two people have marked that tree."
Astlyr peered at the ash tree which bore the image of a heart carved into its bark with the letters N and A inside it. "A human custom I think," she explained. "When you're in love you leave a monument to it in the bark of a defenseless tree," she chuckled dryly.
"The tree didn't mind," said Cole.
Astlyr raised and eyebrow, "you can read trees?"
"Sometimes. Not often," Cole shrugged as though this notion were perfectly ordinary. "Trees are quiet and slow. Their blood runs like sleep instead of fire. Sometimes they sing."
"Alright then," Astlyr shook her head, intrigued, but trying to stay on task. "Any sign of recent human or elvish activity?"
"No," Myfanwy said, slowly lowering herself from the saddle.
"May I?" Fen'Harel asked, looking back towards the group.
"Carry on," Astlyr said, swinging her long leg over Smoke's back and hitting the snowy earth with both feet. "Will we be long?" she asked, wondering if she should unsaddle the horse.
"This should take moments," Fen'Harel assured her, hands and staff already poised to cast at the wolf statue.
Astlyr gave Smoke's rump and gentle smack and the horse trotted away, as he might when his rider was in battle. The other horses followed him, though Shadow had to choice, still tied as he was. Astlyr turned back to watch the elf god. Her friends gathered around her.
She expected Fen'Harel to use his earth magic to break the statue apart. She guessed that the foci must be inside it, or perhaps beneath its bulk. Instead a pale green magic flowed from Fen's spread fingers and upraised staff. The magic slithered, seeming too small, too harmless to do more than chip the stone wolf. The green light swirled upwards over the cold surface and surged towards the staring, blank eyes of the beast. Then the magic seemed to push itself into the eyes themselves. Before Astlyr had time to wonder at this the stone animal twitched.
"Maker," Cassandra exhaled, taking her shield from her back instinctively.
"Andraste's flaming undies," Varric swore. Astlyr logged that phrasing away for future use as she stared.
The stone wolf blinked, flicked an ear, then yawned. It looked around itself and then down at Fen'Harel. With a surprising 'yip' sound it sprang up and charged the elf. Astlyr's sword was in her hand and she was reaching for her shield before she heard the elf-god laughing. The massive stone wolf ran around Fen'Harel, tail wagging and whipped branches clean off nearby trees. It churned up the snow, obviously overjoyed.
"What in all the hells is it?" asked Cassandra, coming to stand beside Astlyr, her shield strap done up clumsily in her haste to don it.
Everyone else seemed to be at a complete loss. Even Varric let his mouth fall open, but said nothing. Astlyr expected Cole to launch into a convoluted explanation, but the boy remained silent as well. Fen'Harel spoke to the moving statue in elvish and it quieted, though it still wagged its tail, whipping a cold wind in Astlyr's face.
Myfanwy came to stand beside the qunari and Astlyr leaned down to whisper, "what is he saying?"
"I'm not certain," Myfanwy admitted, "he's speaking an ancient elvish tongue, I think. I can recognize some root words. Friend...I think...and loyalty, or is it trust? He's speaking too fast."
Fen'Harel turned to the group then, smiling more broadly than Astlyr had seen in a long time. His whole face was lit with a merry light that even Astlyr had to admit was contagious. She found the corners of her own mouth tilting upwards. "This is my friend. His name is Alun," Fen'Harel introduced the stone wolf with a gesture. "The guardian of the foci and one of my dearest followers."
"Followers?" Dorian asked, brows skeptically high. The mage seemed the most distrustful of the situation. His staff was drawn and purple magic clung to it, ready to be sent surging towards an enemy.
"In my time I was never a popular god, and I did not actively seek followers," Fen'Harel explained as the wolf lowered its head and he petted its giant muzzle. Fen glanced at Myfanwy before continuing. "Those I did have were extremely faithful. I seem to engender loyalty in those who swear themselves to me," he shrugged.
"An admirable thing, if the loyalty is earned," Cassandra said.
Fen'Harel nodded. "The warring began and my followers, few though they were, remained by my side. Many expressed that, should they be dying, they did not wish to follow Falon'Din to the next lands. They saw him as an enemy, as he was one of those already flouting his power. When one of my people was wounded or ill, I offered them the chance for eternity."
"As a stone dog?" Varric, stepping forward timidly. The living statue looked at him, ears pricked forward, eyes alright with the magical green shimmer of Feb'Harel's gift.
"They would not remain as a statue forever," Fen'Harel said. "I would allow them to travel the lands in this form. Immortal."
Varric made a scoffing sound, "seems dangerously close to what the dwarves were doing with their golems."
"Perhaps," Fen said, dipping his head in accent. "Not all of my followers chose this path, and fewer still took on the next burden I asked of them. To watch over the foci of my friends until such time as I could free them again."
Ghilan'nain moved nearer to the odd scene. She had been hanging back, near the horses, watching with her ears pinned against her head in uncertainty. Upon hearing Fen'Harel's tale she carefully picked her way towards the stone wolf and the elvish god. Fen'Harel turned to his stone companion again, "please give me the foci, faithful one. Your duty is finally ended."
The Wolf stepped back, then coughed. Bits of gravel fell from its mouth onto the snow, and then something else, shimmering delicately, tumbled from its jaws. As the wolf wretched out the content of its stone stomach Astlyr had a thought that made her chest tighten. "When we found June there was stone wreckage all around," she said, watching Fen, who had turned to meet her gaze. "Was that-?"
"He was, yes. His name was Petras," Fen'Harel dipped his head and Astlyr did not need Cole's help to read his pain. No wonder he had called June a murderer. Astlyr bit her tongue with her back teeth. To lose an old friend in such a way. One who had slumbered only to never awaken to find out what had become of the world. To never know that his god had returned for him. She fought back the urge to comfort Fen'Harel. Later, she knew. For the moment they had a task and her tactical mind prickled with the desire to be about it.
The wolf had finished its hacking and sat down, the end of its tail twitching goodnaturedly. Fen'Harel knelt and sorted through the bits of stone the wolf has expelled onto the snow. Tiny spools of magic clung and coiled around the pieces. Finally Fen held up what he had been seeking, a look of immense relief on his face. It was a small object with a leather cord dangling from it. Astlyr moved closer, cautious. It appeared to be the point of an antler. It was as white as the snowy world around them and shimmering with residual magic. "The foci?" she asked.
"Yes," Fen'Harel said, his tone reverent. Cradling the object in his hands as though it were the most delicate glass he moved towards Ghilan'nain. The halla snorted and stamped at first, tossing back her slender head and exhaling a gout of steamy breath. Then she quieted. Fen'Harel spoke to her, again in the ancient elvish tongue. She lowered her great, twisted antlers towards him, closing her eyes as she bent a knee, seeming to bow at Fen'Harel's feet. With immense delicacy Fen'Harel looped the cord of leather around one of Ghilan'nain's antlers. Then he stepped back, watchful.
At first nothing happened, though the air was suddenly heavy with a sensation of waiting. Astlyr could feel it. Deep, old magic tugging. Her hand twinged and she wondered if her mark was reacting. She didn't move to pull off her glove. She felt frozen in place by the moment. Not one of her friends so much as twitched. Even the stone wolf's tail stopped thumping the ground. The snow it had been kicking up settled.
Then the old magic surged. Astlyr's hand exploded with pain and she heard Fen'Harel gasp. Cole's hand closed around Astlyr's wrist, though she did not know if it was for her comfort or his. It was as though he clung to her to avoid being washed away in an unseen wave. The halla shone an otherworldly gold, far brighter than she had before. Astlyr blinked as her eyes watered in the sudden shine. Then the snow and magic around the animal-goddess began to roil and rise, swirling about her in a tunnel of twisting color and power. Astlyr had to bite down hard to keep from yelping as her hand lanced with a fresh shard of pain. There was Fade magic here and she could feel the veil so close it was pressing against her. She knew Cole sensed it too, the boy whimpered, and gripped her wrist harder. At least his finger nails digging into her arm were distracting from the pain in her hand, she thought.
The halla, caught up in this mass of magic and snow, began to transform. It took only seconds and afterward Astlyr doubted very much she could have recounted what she saw if she'd been asked. Varric was going to have a hell of a time describing this moment in his next book, which she imagined would be titled 'The Further Adventures of The inquisitor or Weird Shit We Found in Fereldan.'
Astlyr cleared her eyes of tears with a few more blinks and looked up. Where the halla had stood a woman had taken the animal's place. She was tall, at least for an elf. Her skin was very pale, her eyes large and dark. She wore a white dress which fell around her legs in perfect folds all the way to the ground. Her hair was so pale it almost seemed white, with just a hint of gold, and it fell straight and smooth all the way to the backs of her knees. On her head the woman wore an elaborate headpiece shaped like the antlers of a halla. Her foci was in her hand. The woman stood very still, staring at them all with wide, animal eyes. Then she turned to Fen'Harel, who stepped nearer, a look of awe on his face, mingling with an emotion Astlyr couldn't identify. Then the goddess rushed to Fen, closing the gap between them with three hurried steps of her delicate, bare feet. She slid thin, perfect hands around his jaw and kissed him on the mouth.
*****Another slower chapter. I'm sorry. I always feel bad about slow chapters, but at the same time, we need them. All action all the time would totally never fly. Don't worry though, in an upcoming chapter I plan to beat the crap out of all your favorite characters again! Huzzah!
In other news, what I have seen of the Jaws of Hakkon DLC does not mess with my lore tweaking at all, and in some ways it even supports it. Yay! If you have played the DLC and have found something that directly conflicts with my lore tweaks, I would definitely be interested to know! Thanks!
I wanted to ask y'all, are there any characters you want to see more of? Such as Bull, Blackwall or Viv who have not been getting as much screen time (More Cullen is coming, don't worry)? Or are you happy with the peeps we have now? Speak up now and I can give them a little more lovin' in an upcoming chapter!
As always don't forget to comment! Even on these slower chapters, comments let me know you're still tuned in and still interested in the story :) Plus, Cole would want you to!
Next: 4/23/15