***** It's official, kids! I have written the ending. I have, with a deep sense of joy and sadness intermingling, written the words "the end". You guys are only a few chapters away. Maybe, if my life stops being so dang busy, I'll have time to edit them and you can have them faster than once per week. We'll see. But rest assured, the end is not only in sight, it's even been written down!
I apologize if there are more typos in this chapter than usual. I edited kinda fast because work has been kicking my ass and totally getting in the way of my fantasy life again. It needs to stop this.
Now that you have listen to me ramble for far too long, please enjoy the chapter! *****
Part 38
Astlyr of Skyhold
"Gather the soldiers and the guard in the courtyard!" Cullen roared in his best commander's voice.
"The Inquisitor wishes to address her troops!" Cassandra barked.
Astlyr chuckled. With these two around did she really need to say anything? She watched as people gathered before her in the courtyard. Soldiers forming ranks at the command of their captains, the guard finding places around the edges and watching from the walls. She caught sight of Guardswoman Jones. Her unit had managed a meager formation. As more and more men and woman poured and packed into the courtyard Astlyr felt her nerves getting the better of her. She was never one for making speeches. Now if this were the middle of a pitched battle she could shout orders at them without a second thought, but this? She did her best to stand straight, to look the part. No doubt she impressed, tall and be-horned as she was. She wore simple armor, not her full battle attire, but her sword and shield were strapped at her hip and back.
She felt a rush of cold air behind her and knew Cole was with her. She felt his cool, reassuring presence. Then something nudged her hand. She glanced down, surreptitiously. Cole was guiding Cullen's hand to hers. The commander was blushing again, but he took the hint and firmly laced his fingers with Astlyr's, though he angled his body so the soldiers below would have a difficult time seeing this gesture. He did not want to diminish her strength by appearing to provide it. She wished she could stop everything and kiss him.
Fen'Harel stood stoic at Astlyr's other side. Though he did not speak, it was obvious he felt he owed the people of Skyhold something. If nothing else, someone to blame for whatever trials might befall them. Certainly the people knew he had something to do with the goings on of late, as his appearance in their midst had seemed to trigger odd events and treacherous quests for their Inquisitor.
The courtyard was packed. Even King Alistair had stopped his tour and stood below with the queen. Cullen's hand tightened on hers and Astlyr felt Cole behind her, offering his support as her Spirit Companion. She cleared her throat. At least, if she couldn't be well spoken, she could be loud.
"People of Skyhold...I am your Inquisitor." She winced. She was not off to a good start. Yet everyone set up a cheer at her words, as if the announcement of the obvious was somehow inspiring. She almost laughed, but managed to contain it, gesturing with her free hand for them to fall silent. "People of Skyhold," she tried again. "Your commanders will soon be briefing you on the specifics of the upcoming battle, but I...I wanted to take a moment to speak with you all. I wanted to let you know that this fight..." she hesitated, uncertain. She wished Cullen or Cas would jump in and save her, but she knew they could not. "This fight will be a challenge. We have never had to defend our fortress...our home, from attack before. We were able to take the fight to Corypheus. In this case, however, we must stand. We must defend. We must protect our home." This speech was going to be pointless indeed, she thought ruefully, if the 'gods' decided not to attack them after all. She swallowed and pressed on. "We have fought against some terrible creatures in our time. Dragons, false gods, lyrium corrupted templars." She glanced at her own small templar contingent, standing with the much larger group of battle-ready mages. She was surprised to see Titus standing with them, in uniform, helmet tucked neatly under his arm. His pale, freckled face wore an expression of determination. She smiled inwardly. This battle would be nothing compared to the war he had fought, and would fight, with himself and his addiction.
"One thing I have learned about the people of Skyhold in my time with them-" Astlyr spoke more confidently now. "In my battles with them at my side. The people of Skyhold are strong." she raised a fist. To her immense relief a roar went up from the crowd and more fists were pumped into the air. She heard The Chargers whoop especially loudly "The people of Skyhold are diverse!" another raised fist, another loud cheer. "And the people of Skyhold will never give up!" Another cheer, "and we will never back down! And we will never surrender!"
The courtyard was lost to shouts and calls so loud that Astlyr felt certain the enemy could hear it, no matter how far off they were. Her heart lifted. Whatever Elgar'nan thought he was about to face, she suspected he was in for a rude surprise. This fortress would not be caught unawares and it would not easily fall. He had fought her before and won. Never again. She grinned fiercely.
Astlyr stamped grit and snow from her boots, brushing crystalline flakes from her shoulders as she dipped her head to enter the tavern. With the evening cold had come snow, falling in fat, almost pleasant flakes. A few of Skyhold's youngsters had escaped their parents and were out making snow dragons before the fresh dusting was stamped to nothingness under the feet of the soldiers.
The muted warmth of the tavern welcomed the Inquisitor like the smile of an old friend. As she stood for a moment relishing the sensation, she took in the company. She had called her friends together for a 'family dinner', declaring that it had been too long since they had last gathered. It had been a bit of an ordeal to have the tavern cleared of the loud and boisterous soldiers which kept the place filled to the rafters at all ours for the past few days.
Now a lively game of Wicked Grace was already under way, which looked to rival the soldiers in volume and crude language.
"Pointy!" Of course Varric would be the first to greet her, waving his arm to draw her towards the gaming table. "I'll deal you in!"
"I'll catch the next one," she assured her friend with a chuckle.
"If there is a next one," Josie smirked, making a show of stretching her hands before her with fingers interlaced.
"Your winning streak is at an end, dear lady," Dorian warned, cocking an eyebrow.
"Are you going to take that from him?" Blackwall asked Josephine. He was rewarded by a highly flirtatious expression over the top of her cards.
"Hey! No alliances!" Iron Bull scolded.
Astlyr shook her head and moved further into the room, her eyes scanning the familiar place for all the faces of her closest friends and companions. Cullen was sitting with Cas. He stood up as Astlyr drew near, moving to indicate a chair he had saved for her at his table. "In a moment," she assured her man. "I want to say hello to everyone first."
"I'll be waiting," he managed to give her a meaningful grin before blushing. She chuckled as she heard Varric snort with laughter. Count on the dwarf to be paying attention to everything, even while playing cards.
"She needs a drink!" Sera announced. Astlyr looked around, confused, then peered upwards. Sera sat on the tavern's darker second floor, dangling her legs down past the railing. She gestured to Astlyr with an obviously full mug, and some of the liquid within splashed, almost dousing the Inquisitor.
"You're probably right," Astlyr agreed, shooting a look towards the barkeep, who nodded and set about fixing her favorite drink. She walked on, seeking under the overhang beside the roaring fireplace. Vivienne did not seem to have arrived yet, but Myfanwy was there, speaking with Fen'Harel at a quiet table in a dim corner. As Astlyr approached both elves looked up and greeted her. "I'm not interrupting am I?"
"No," Myfanwy said, resting forward on her elbows. "We had just finished out conversation."
Astlyr shot one more look about the room, her eyes seeking Cole. Some part of her knew him to be present, though she was not certain where. Perhaps he was visiting his old haunt at the top level of the tavern. He would come down when it suited him. She wasn't worried. She slid a chair out to sit with the elves, "I'm surprised you're not playing in the card game," she addressed Myfanwy. Since becoming friends with Varric the elf had been more engaged with the others as well. She still kept to herself much of the time, and wore her feelings close to the belt, but Astlyr had begun seeing her around Skyhold, chatting or helping where she might not have before.
"I just wanted to have a talk with My Lord," Myfanwy explained. "Because of all that has been happening, and all we have learned. Lord Fen'Harel has been explaining to me more of what the gods are, and what they were."
"I notice you're still calling him 'My Lord'," Astlyr pointed out, though not unkindly.
"A difficult habit to break," Myfanwy admitted. "He does not ask me to call him that," she added hurriedly.
"I know," Astlyr gave Fen a quick, affirming smile. Then she turned back to Myfanwy. "This whole adventure since...you lost your brother, must have been especially hard for you. I cannot imagine how Cullen or Cassandra would handle it if their Maker turned out to merely be an exceptional human."
Myfanwy shook her dark curls, "Our gods are more than merely exceptional elves, but I know what you mean. They are not gods in the way we have always thought. Our worship was horribly misplaced. Twisted by time and lack of understanding."
"Once," Fen'Harel's voice had a hoarse edge, "Once I blamed the Dalish for it. I blamed the very people I wanted to help and save for believing what they did when their 'gods' vanished and left them with nothing but memories and subjugation by humans. Our treatment of The People was abominable, and mine no less so. I carried myself with such pride, thinking myself superior for refusing to keep The People as my adoring slaves, but I wounded them all the more with my disdain." he turned to Myfanwy, "I beg your forgiveness."
The woman blinked in surprise and even Astlyr was slightly taken aback by his admission. She couldn't imagine Solas saying such a thing to anyone. Had he grown to this understanding, or had it always been there, just under the surface?
"Thank goodness I found friends here in the Inquisition," Myfanwy said. "I cannot imagine learning all this without company to keep me sane. My brother and I were alone for so long, avoiding humans and Dalish alike. It is good to belong again. I barely remember our clan, I left it when I was so young."
"We can be your clan now," Astlyr said, kindly.
"No," Myfanwy shook her head again, but she was smiling. "I can't think of it that way any more. I'm not Dalish. Not in the way I used to be and will never be so again. My brother was Dalish. He gave himself up to his god without question. I still value my gods, my faith and my family, but I have begun to question my world as my mother and father never taught me."
"Is that good?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow. Truth be told she felt somehow guilty. Had she aided in the destruction of someone's innocence? Had they deprived a good person of her faith?
"It is...a truth about me," Myfanwy shrugged. "It is frightening, and alarming, but freeing," she turned her smile, which trembled at the edges but held strong, on Fen'Harel. He reached out and placed his slim hand atop hers. Astlyr was struck again by how similar they looked. Sometimes she could forget what Myfanwy's brother had sacrificed, but looked at the two now made her heart twinge. She cleared her throat. This was supposed to be a happy time of reconnection before a battle. A 'puppy pile' Sera had once called it. "I had better go...mingle? Is that what people do?"
"I believe that is the term," Fen'Harel laughed, taking his hand from Myfanwy's and sitting back, looking more relaxed.
As Astlyr passed the bar she was handed her favorite drink and swigged heartily as she moved back to where Cas and Cullen were chatting. She shot a glance towards the game, which was getting noisier by the second. "Andraste's flaming tits, how did you pull of that hand, Ruffles?! You've got cards hidden up those fluffy sleeves, admit it!"
"How goes the evening?" Astlyr found a spot with her two commanders. She noted that they had arranged utensils to form a battle scene. She gestured to Cullen's tankard, "is this Skyhold?"
"A very poor approximation, yes," Cullen nodded. He ran a hand along his chin, studying. "Cassandra is representing the enemy forces and telling me what she would do, were she in the place of this 'Elgar'nan' character."
"As I said, I would place siege engines here on this ridge."
"Does he have siege engines?" Astlyr cocked an eyebrow.
"We have no way of knowing. Simply because the king did not see any, does not mean they are not there." the seeker said, arranging a fork to stand for a row of soldiers.
"Alright," Astlyr said, "this is silly. We have a war room for this. We're supposed to be here for a family dinner before battle comes knocking at our doorstep. She sat back in her chair, rocking onto its rear two feet as she called out towards the bar. "Merridan? Are you back there?"
To her surprise the bard did appear when bidden. She didn't even look as though she had been wakened from asleep. "What is it, Inquisitor? Something I can play for you?" Tonight she carried a fiddle and she rested it against her chest as she awaited instruction.
"Anything lively. I need to get these two up and moving."
"Wait, what?" Cullen raised his head, an alarmed look in his eyes.
"You've driven me to this. All business all the time." Astlyr scolded playfully.
The bard grinned and began to pluck the strings of her fiddle for the beginning of a lively song. The card players looked up, already smiling appreciatively. Even Cas was wearing a smile, try as she might to hide it. She stood first, setting aside her silverware battle scene. "Come along Commander. We'll teach you a simple country dance," she urged.
Cullen shot a dark look towards Astlyr before letting out a dramatic groan and standing to take Cas's offered hand. "Only if Astlyr has to learn it to,"
"Of course I do," she laughed, joining them in the open area before the fireplace as the bard switched to bowing, the tune picking up a joyous, rollicking pace.
The three of them, hands linked together in a line followed, Cas's feet as she demonstrated a simple circle jig. "Not bad," Varric called. "Pick up your feet a bit more, Pointy. Hey, Curly, look up at us, not the floor!"
"Get over here, you!" Astlyr shouted to Varric.
"I'm in the middle of a hand."
"Do not make me come get you!" Cassandra threatened.
"Maker, wouldn't want that. Some book could get stabbed," the dwarf made a show of setting his cards aside hastily. "If any of you look at my hand Cole will know, and he'll tell me."
"I will?" Cole's voice came from above them like the haunting call of a ghost.
As Astlyr struggled to keep up with the pace of the song, and also not tread on anyone's toes in the process, she sent a powerful thought Cole's way. In a blink he stood before her. "You need me to help...by dancing?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Yes Cole. It will make everyone feel happy." she panted as she watched Cassandra and Varric, who were clearly the best at this particular dance. She managed to kick up her heels, though when she landed she feared the a lantern behind her might shake down onto the floor. She held out her free hand to the boy who, still looking baffled, took it in his icy one.
Cole, it turned out, was a disastrous dancer. It did make Astlyr feel a bit better about herself though. Unable to focus on the steps, the boy was also struggling to read everyone in the room at the same time. She could see his mouth moving rapidly as he awkwardly jerked about, one step behind the rest of the group, and sometimes seemingly doing a different dance entirely. "Alright. This is painful to watch," Dorian laughed, rescuing Cole. "You've done well, young man, but let a professional have a try. You go keep my cards safe."
"I'm already keeping Varric's cards safe," Cole allowed himself to be led from the dance.
"You can do both. I believe in you." the mage slid in to Cole's spot, taking Astlyr's hand. It was odd to go from Cole's freezing hand to Dorian's warm, but still pleasant. He took a moment to pick up the steps and then was dancing as though he had been born to this dance.
The door to the tavern opened and Vivienne finally joined them. She took in the scene as she brushed snow from her elegant robes. While she tried to maintain a look of disgust at the antics of her fellows, but her eyes twinkled as she watched, moving past them to the bar for her own drink. "Give me a moment to settle in, and I shall teach you all a dance worth knowing," she called over her shoulder.
Soon the fast, country ditty was over, but another tune was struck at once. This one slower, though no less pleasant. Blackwall rose and bowed from the waist, extending a hand to Josephine who giggled, making everyone else look at her in surprise. She blushed faintly as she settled her hand gently in Blackwall's calloused one. He led her onto the floor, one hand behind his back as though he had been doing courtly dances all his life.
Everyone stepped back to watch for a moment as the pair spun slowly around the floor. Astlyr wondered if the pair found time to dance together in secret, for now they moved as though they had always been partners. Even Sera stopped sloshing ale down onto the dance floor to watch. Myfanwy and Fen'Harel came out of their corner, appreciating the dancers. "Come, M'gel, a quick lesson," Dorian urged.
"Er..." was all Astlyr managed as her friend grasped her fingers and gave her a twirl, though he had to let go of her for a second to avoid her horns. Then he placed his hand on her waist and guided her through the steps. Thought Astlyr was concentrating on her feet, she managed to look up to see Cassandra teaching Cullen as well.
Even Viv got in on the dance, announcing, as she extended a hand to Iron Bull, that if one qunari could be taught to dance, why not both. Iron Bull did not protest. He never did when it came to the enchantress. Soon his bulk took up much of the floor.
Varric moved to extend his own invitation, "I see you there, Puppy, looking like you'd rather die than miss out on this dance. Let's go."
The elf glided nimbly onto the floor with Varric. Soon the two were giggling as they struggled to pick up the steps from watching the other dancers.
Once Dorian was satisfied that Astlyr would, at the very least, not break the foot of her partner, he handed her off to Cassandra's pupil. Then he made a show of limping from the dance floor. Astlyr winced inwardly as she watched him go. She had tread on his toes several times, though she had managed not to step down hard.
Now Cullen slid his palm against her waist and took her hand as they finished out the dance together with a minimal amount of awkward missteps. "You should know, I am still doing this dancing business under protest," the templar pretended to gripe, as the two managed to move about the floor. Blackwall and Josie skillfully avoided them, though once they almost collided with Iron Bull.
"I could have ordered you, you know," Astlyr pointed out as she managed to go several moments without getting a step wrong. She even darted her eyes up from the floor to look at her man's face. Looking at him now felt like home. All of this felt like home. No longer did her mind stray to a little cabin where a life of solitude and raising goats was all that waited. The only action the chasing off of the occasional bandit. Now all she saw were a pair of golden eyes and a scarred smile.
The song ended and Cullen finished strong with a kiss, though he did not dare attempt to dip her as Blackwall did with his delighted partner. Astlyr was grateful, as she suspected she would have ended up on the floor.
Another song began, this one faster, intended for everyone. They managed to form a circle and a few simple steps were learned. Soon the lot of them were whirling this way, then the other. They made such a ruckus that the barkeep looked fit to run and hide, though the bard whooped and cheered as best she could while fiddling. She stamped her foot enthusiastically as the group circled, came together, moved back apart. Even Fen'Harel found a place in the dance, though Cole was contended to watch. Sera finally came down from her perch and took up a spot beside Blackwall, with whom she maintained a friendship, even in these strange times.
When this dance was over the group collapsed into chairs panting and laughing in turns. Astlyr took in each face, alight with merriment and energy. Cassandra shoved Varric's shoulder fondly. Viv dained to perch on a chair beside Iron Bull. Even she was unable to hide her good mood. Perhaps she too was feeling at home in Skyhold. More than any tower or worldly Orlesian court. At least here she had the respect of her fellow mages, and no one tried to kill her if she wore the wrong shoes that morning. The title of Skyhold's First Enchanter fit her like a glove.
Astlyr sighed, feeling Cullen's arm go around her shoulders. She nestled into it, meeting Cole's eyes across the room. While he looked far from happy, she was able to detect his true mood beneath the down-turned mouth and gloomy stare. He could not feel the groups happiness, but he could certainly sense a decided lack of pain, fear, or anger in this moment. She gave him a big smile and he returned his flickering fleeting one which she knew and loved.
Then the door to the tavern opened again. One of the guard stood there, snow dusted and looking extremely uneasy. "Madam Inquisitor," the man said, shifting nervously from foot to foot. He was clearly terrified to interrupt.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Astlyr stood at once, shedding Cullen's arm from around her. She knew that this guard would not have come if the situation did not require her immediate attention.
"It's Dirth, ma'am. He's asking for you, urgently. He says he also needs Fen and Cole."
Astlyr shot a quick glance towards Fen'Harel, who had been laughing along with the rest, but now looked somber and worried. The elf stood, crossing to stand beside Astlyr, "what is the matter. Is he unwell?"
"He just told me to fetch you. He yelled it, actually." the guard admitted, looking down.
"Alright. I'm coming," Astlyr said, moving to the door and taking her cloak down from a peg. "Fen, Cole?" Both were beside her before she finished saying their names.
"Do you need help?" asked Cullen, who had also taken to his feet, following half way across the room.
"No. We'll soon have this sorted," Astlyr assured her lover. "We'll be back for the rest of the family dinner shortly, I hope. Carry on without us until then."
"Alright," Cullen said, though there was an uneasy edge to his voice. She could tell it was taking a lot of will power for him to go back to his seat beside Cassandra and Varric. His eyes didn't leave her as she and her two companions departed the tavern.
Outside the snow was falling heavier. The flakes were so plump and fluffy that they almost seemed to land with soft sounds on their shoulders and hair. Astlyr knew little tufts were already forming along her horns as she followed the guard into Skyhold. She glanced at Fen, who walked silently and slightly behind her. "Any idea what's going on?"
"Only hunches," the elf answered. "I know nothing more than you do."
She guessed he must be honest in this. She could see the tension in his gait and the concern shining in his eyes. The guard led them to the room of this latest elven god. While it was watched over by a second guard, the non-mage Dirthamen did not require a templar to stand watch. Astlyr did not bother knocking, pushing the door open, her eyes searching a dimly lit room for the man.
"Dirthamen, what is it? Are you well?" Fen asked urgently, stepped into the room past Astlyr.
The god of secrets was sitting in one of his chairs near a guttering fire. His eyes were closed, hands folded in his lap. He did not react to the company. Cole blinked into the room to stand beside the man. "He's in the Fade."
"Dirthamen," Fen'Harel knelt before his friend and gently nudged his knee.
"Try kicking him in the shin," Astlyr said, glancing around the spartan little room. It was like Fen'Harel's, but had no anteroom as Fen's had for Myfanwy.
Dirthamen blinked, dark eyes opening and focusing slowly. "Ah, Astlyr, you came! I am sorry to interrupt your festivities, but there is something which needs your immediate attention."
"What is it?" Fen was tense, even jumpy. Astlyr wondered at this. She was not used to such an attitude from him. She glanced sideways at Cole, but the boy volunteered no information, instead moving back a bit, withdrawing to the long shadows in the room.
"Should I light some candles?" Astlyr offered.
"There is no need," Dirthamen stayed her, then looked back to Fen'Harel. "Be calm friend, all will be well."
"Tell me what is going on," Astlyr said, testily.
"Ah, of course. I am sorry. One of my Fade spirit friends found me and informed me that Elgar'nan has arrived."
"Arrived?!" Astlyr moved towards the door too quickly and toppled a small end table with her hip. "Now? Why haven't the guards-"
"He is still some distance from the fortress. He has set up his army's camp out of sight behind a mountain rise. I have made contact with him in the Fade. Convinced him to speak with you."
"You what?" Astlyr felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. The wind was taken out of her completely. "Why didn't you tell me this was going on? How long have you-"
"Peace, please," Dirthamen urged in a gentle voice. "I have only been communicating for the past hour, and only recently has Elgar'nan responded. Do you care to parlay?"
"Parlay?" Astlyr didn't know how to react or respond. She could already hear Cullen's voice in her head warning her of the risk of this situation. Going into the Fade to speak with dangerous gods who hated her? He would never in a million years tell her it was a good idea. She swallowed. "Yes. I will parlay." she glanced sideways at Fen'Harel, hoping he would speak up. Tell her she was insane for even entertaining this notion. She wished she knew what her level of insanity was in that moment.
"Do not fear," Dirthamen said, trying to sound reassuring, though not really managing it. "The spirits there are my friends. They will not allow these negotiations to come to hostility."
"Fen?" Astlyr turned to her friend, who was, like Cole, hanging back now. He looked nervous, uncertain. She didn't like it.
"We should go," he said, hoarsely. "This may be the only chance to reason with Elgar'nan, though I doubt it will do us any good. If The God of Vengeance is abroad there will be little chance of swaying him."
Astlyr's throat felt tight as she looked to Cole, her last bastion of reason in this mess. His hat tilted up and his pale eye met hers, like twin jewels in a milk-white face. He did not speak, merely met her eyes. She knew what he meant without words. He was uncertain as well, but willing to go with her. There was a fierce flash of a threat in his eyes as well. He would protect her in the Fade; a place where she was weaponless. She gave him a quick smile. Then crossed to Dirthamen's bed and sat down. She scooted so her back rested against the cool wall behind her and tucked up her legs with some effort. "I know the drill," she said when both gods looked at her, impressed.
The group arranged themselves around the room. Cole folded himself onto the bed beside Astlyr as the other two took up chairs, positioning themselves so as to be wedged against a wall or table so they would not fall while their bodies meditated. As the fire guttered lower still on the hearth the four settled in to a quiet, sleepy state.
Astlyr was getting better at this, though perhaps Cole was helping her a bit. His shoulder was leaning against hers and for all she knew he was using his gift to let her fall into the Fade more easily. And fall she did. She had the sensation of tumbling backwards as the feeling of the wall behind her seemed to fade away, and then she was sitting in a world of green and black.
She looked around. Dirthamen's room was very different in the Fade. She wondered if he had decorated it himself. The walls were draped in colorful hangings and beads that fluttered and rattled gently in the unfelt Fade breezes. The place hardly looked like a small castle room at all. Large, decorative cushions sat on the floor instead of chairs, and the bed was replaced with a low pallet covered in lavish, deep red coverings embroidered with gold. She raised an eyebrow. Dirthamen had good taste. He and Dorian should get together at some point.
Then Astlyr took in her company. A certain lean, red haired elf she recognized at once, joined by the one she knew to be Dirthamen. Somehow his handsome features and ebony skin did not surprise her at all. She felt as though she had guessed what he would look like, or had she seen him before? In a dream? Had he walked in her dreams without her permission? She cast these thoughts aside as she stood, followed by Cole in his truer form, that of a healthy (and faintly glowing) young man. "Where do we meet with Elgar'nan?"
"Come," Dirthamen gestured towards the door and they followed him out. The corridors of Skyhold twisted and turned in this world, and twice they had to backtrack because the hall did not lead where it was meant to. Finally they managed to find their way out into the courtyard. It was snowing, as it had been in the other world, but here in the Fade the snow often decided to fall up or sideways instead of down. A few fat flakes smacked Astlyr in the chin.
"Look, they're curious," Cole pointed as the group moved across the empty yard. Astlyr followed the boy's gesture and saw several small, wispy spirits hovering near the wall steps. She glanced around, in case demons might be interested as well. Her hand gave a little prickle and the green light shimmered from her palm for a moment. The watching spirits all drew a bit closer, clearly not afraid of her, but uncertain all the same.
Dirthamen turned and noticed. He smiled warmly. "Some of my friends," he said. "Attentiveness, learning, and cunning."
The three spirits glowed more brightly as their names were spoken. Cole moved closer and they reached out ethereal limbs towards him, as though admiring his form. Fen'Harel was watching now as well. "They have seldom seen a creature like Cole. It has been a very long time."
"They want to be like me," Cole smiled broadly, a startling thing on a face which was usually so glum. "They want to find people like Astlyr and become Spirit Companions too."
"They must be cautious," warned Fen, not unkindly, but still in a firm tone. "Any who venture into the human world risk corruption by it."
The spirits flashed and glowed, speaking to one another in a language Astlyr couldn't understand. Then they flitted back, watching with shimmering eyes as the four visitors to their world moved onward.
As Astlyr and her company approached the main gates, which were open, showing a green tinted snowy mountain valley stretching between two, uneven peaks, another figure joined them. This one far more substantial than the spirits. It was Ghilan'nain, looking elegant in a flowing white dress. On her head she wore the tall, twisting headdress which looked like hala antlers. She was a vision of pale beauty. Not a hair out of place. Her eyes, which were dark as a hala's, fixed on Astlyr and her perfect lips formed a smile. "I am glad to finally be able to meet you this way," she said.
Astlyr should not have been surprised that she could understand the goddess, but she was. She recovered herself quickly, giving the woman a nod of greeting. "As am I. I hope you are finding your accommodations at Skyhold, at least tolerable."
The goddess hesitated. Her smile was obviously harder to maintain, but she persevered. "They are tolerable, yes. Your people are...kind."
Astlyr decided not to press the matter. If Ghilan'nain was here, she hoped it meant that the goddess of the hala intended to aid Skyhold in its time of need, and that was what mattered. Now, with fifth member in tow, the group moved out of Skyhold and into the snowy landscape. Astlyr's hand prickled again and she raised it to check. Her mark glowed faintly, but insistently. Some part of her knew that demons also lurked near by, but even they seemingly had the good sense not to bother her and her illustrious company. She looked down at Cole. Out of place amongst these gods. She wondered why Dirthamen had asked for the boy to come? Was it merely to make Astlyr feel more secure? Did Dirthamen believe she did not know how to deal with the Fade, so bringing a spirit she knew as a guide would be helpful?
She had no more time to think on this, however, as something caught her eye. From the mountain pass several figures emerged. Tall and proud, she guessed who they must be at once. Elgar'nan strode at the front, followed by his fellow gods. As they drew nearer, Dirthamen turned to Astlyr, a clever glint in his eye. "The Fade tells the truth, Inquisitor. Most of the time. However, with a few tweaks I can help it tell a better truth."
Before she could ask what on earth he had meant, Dirthamen had flicked his wrist and she felt a rush of air. She looked down at herself. No longer clad in the simple garb she usually wore in her Fade walks, instead she was kitted out in full plate. It was nice plate too. It fitted her excellently, and the breast piece was emblazoned with the symbol of the Inquisition. The armor fairly shimmered, and she was gratified to see that a sword hung at her hip, a shield on her back. She guessed that these might be illusion. That she could not draw the blade to strike a foe, but she was not certain. She hoped she would not need to test it.
She shot Cole a sideways look. The boy stood beside her and slightly behind, watching the approaching gods with a seeming calmness she wished she felt. "Would you like to wear special armor too?" she asked him.
"No," Cole said simply, with a shrug of his slender shoulders. "I don't need it."
Astlyr turned back to the oncoming group, narrowing her eyes. They all looked vaguely familiar. So much so that she could pick out June, a hulking form near the rear of the group, and Falon'din, his dark skin a stark contrast to his pale fellows. Also with them were Mythal, and Andruil the goddess of the hunt. The huntress had a youthful look, more wild than her fellows. Astlyr thought that there should be another god with them, but she wasn't certain who was missing. She shook her head to clear it. Sometimes her thoughts became muddled in the Fade.
She saw Fen'Harel stiffen beside her. She could fairly feel the tension rolling off of him. He shifted uneasily, like a spooky horse about to bolt. She wished she could put a steadying hand on his shoulder, but she didn't. Instead she knew that the impression she would make on these gods was important. Some had seen her before, but she wanted to impress a new image into their minds. Not one of an injured qunari struggling for life or breath, but a powerful Inquisitor, standing ready to face them in battle without fear.
Elgar'nan raised his arm, calling his company to a halt some feet from Astlyr and hers. The handsome leader of the gods looked Astlyr up and down. Scrutinizing. His face was unreadable.
Suddenly there was a flurry of motion. Ghilan'nain and Andruil had rushed towards one another, embracing then kissing urgently.
Astlyr risked a glance towards her fellows as Elgar'nan glared at his daughter. "They were lovers," Dirthamen explained coolly, as though this were a perfectly normal situation.
The two women, still holding each other, spoke low and hurriedly, pressing their foreheads together and showering one another in more kisses. Elgar'nan made a loud sound of annoyance, but his daughter ignored him. The leader of the gods curled his lip in obvious disdain, but turned his attention back to Astlyr, his eyes drifting over the group she had with her. "Hello, Dread Wolf. It is no surprise at all to see you here. We wondered what corner you'd slunk off to."
Fen'Harel froze, tense and wary. His eyes had gone decidedly canine, as though he wanted to change forms and attack or flee, Astlyr wasn't certain which. With an obvious effort, Fen looked past Elgar'nan to Mythal and met her gaze. The goddess's eyes were, to Astlyr's surprise, teary. "I am sorry, my friend," she lowered her head, her voice very quiet and throaty.
Elgar'nan continued his scrutiny of the Astlyr and company as though his wife were not becoming emotional beside him. "Dirthamen. It pains me to see you there, on the side of the humans and..." he gave Astlyr a look of utter disdain, "other creatures."
"I am on the side of the new world. If you were not so blinded by vengeance you would see that."
"Your brother had the right of it," Elgar'nan gestured to Falon'din, who stood stoically beside June. The smith god, for his part, was glaring at Astlyr as though he could slay her with a look alone. "You could still join us, Dirthamen. We could use your wise council."
"My council is my own these days," the secret keeper answered, his tone still level.
Elgar'nan's gaze drifted to rest on Cole, and for the first time Astlyr saw the god's eyes betray an emotion besides disgust. Was there fear behind them? Just for a moment, a definite flash of it. The god's eyes flicked up to Astlyr, then back to Cole, once again unreadable. Dirthamen, however, now wore an oddly smug expression as he caught sight of Elgar'nan's faltering.
The god of vengeance recovered himself quickly, turning his dark gaze back on Astlyr, who weathered its intense loathing stoically. "Do you have anything you wish to say, dragon's daughter, before I seek restitution for my people? For the suffering that has been caused them by this world? For the suffering you have caused me personally?"
Astlyr raised a brow. "You personally."
The god raised his hand, passing it over his face. She saw that tucked inside his Fade-form was the body he wore in the waking world. A patch rested over one of his eyes and his face and hands were marred by a lattice of scars. He passed his hand back again and once more stood in his perfect, elegant form. He raised his chin to better scowl at Astlyr. "You have taken my eye from me. I have already taken your eyes from you," he smirked.
"My scouts," Astlyr realized with a painful twinge. He did not seem one to take prisoners. She knew without a doubt now that Elgar'nan had hunted and murdered any scouts he could find. She suspected he also shot her messenger crows from the sky. Her anger surged, but she kept it from her face with a great effort. She tried to see herself as these strangers might see her. Armored, behorned and tall. She had to be a threat. A danger to them and their ends. She set her mouth in a hard line. "I wished to parlay with you," she said in her loud, commander's voice. She was gratified when Falon'din blinked in surprise. "I wanted to see if an arrangement could be reached to prevent loss of life."
"So many elvhen lives have already been lost," Dirthamen said, his voice tinged with the barest hint of pleading.
"Lives lost to these humans," Elgar'nan snarled. "The People are enslaved, exiled, slaughtered. Do you have so little feeling for their loss that you would not help them reclaim their world?"
"You never cared for The People," Fen'Harel's voice was a guttural, feral sound. His blue eyes flashed dangerously. "You want your world back; your rule back. That will never be, and you will die trying to reclaim it."
"Fen'Harel, please," Mythal spoke in a gentle, pleading tone. "You were one of us, you must understand..."
"I was never one of you," Fen growled.
Astlyr decided to take control of the conversation before things got out of hand, and dangerous alternate forms were taken. "I am Astlyr of Skyhold. One of the new leaders in this world. I come to you with one last offer of parlay. Know this, All Father; should you attack my fortress, your forces will break against it like the sea against a cliff wall. You will not succeed. Many, many of your People will certainly die and your efforts will have been for naught."
"You, and your murdering human friends will pay for what has happened to The People," Elgar'nan spat, his expression cold. Behind him Mythal flinched and even Falon'din looked uncomfortable. She saw him making eye contact with his brother. Would he fight against his own blood for this cause? Astlyr remembered Fen's words about how the god of the dead had become obsessed with newer, better magics. How he slew his own followers to further his ends. A bitter taste came into her mouth.
"You will not listen to reason?" she too raised her chin, aware that she had a significant height advantage on these elves, even if they did stand taller than the elves of her time. She wanted to use every bit of her intimidating presence now. She even raised her faintly glowing hand. A warning that she too had some right to the Fade. Only Elgar'nan glared back at her. The other gods looked uncertain, if not intimidated. It would have to do.
"I will not give up my cause. You and your fortress are the last stepping stone on my road. Once I have cut off the head of the nation and freed its elves, I will take my new seat of power in Skyhold and rule as I always should have." He turned, ushering his people away. He had to stop and pry his daughter from the arms of her lover. The two women parted unwillingly, with many a longing look. Elgar'nan made a sound of disgust as he hauled his offspring away.
"Well," Astyr sighed as the enemy vanished, no longer in the Fade, "that was... what was that exactly?"
"I would not call it a failure," Dirthamen folded his well muscled arms, his dark eyes distant with thought.
"Neither Adruil nor I will fight in this battle," Ghilan'nain announced.
Astlyr winced. "Wonderful," she said, sarcastically. It would be good not to have to deal with the huntress, but it also meant that Ghilan'nain would not aid Skyhold with whatever powers she possessed.
"They were afraid of me," Cole spoke in a hushed voice. He had been so quiet and still, Astlyr had almost forgotten him, standing at her elbow. "They were afraid of us. We made them afraid," he seemed to be trying to puzzle out what he had learned, however small.
"Well," Astlyr rubbed the back of her neck. "I suppose that is something." She glanced at Fen, who was still tense. "You alright?"
Fen gave her the flash of a strained smile, "I hate those people," he said, his teeth too sharp.
She barked a laugh, then got herself under control. "Even Mythal? I thought you were friends."
"As did I, once," Fen'Harel said, shaking his head, red curls dancing. "I have since learned better."
"Let us return to Skyhold," Dirthamen suggested. He looked sad, his shoulders slumped slightly, though he still cut a handsome figure. His dark skin was contrasted by the fine silks he wore draped skillfully across his well built figure. There were few mages in Astlyr's time who could boast such physique.
"Alright," Astlyr agreed, turning to walk with her fellows. She was eager to wake and tell her generals that the enemy had arrived. She inwardly wished she had remembered to ask them how they had managed to move their army with such speed and efficiency. Likely they would not have told her anyway. As she tried to focus her mind, let herself awaken from her Fade dreaming, she certainly felt as though she had failed. She had gone to parlay with gods and had lost an ally for the battle instead. Whatever fear these strangers had of her, it would certainly not prevent their attack. Perhaps it would even drive them to new heights of desperation. She hoped that she had not just doomed her fortress rather than protected it.
***** Alright, alright. I fully admit that this chapter is made up of smaller bits that I felt needed to be in the book, but could not stand alone as their own chapter. The dance section feels especially "fic-y". That section was mostly for me. I'll own up to it. It bugged be like mad that DA:I had no final moment with your people. No last hoorah before they threw themselves into death for you. One final puppy pile. Shepard would have given them an inspiring speech, Astlyr gives them dancing.
(Yes Vivienne secretly loves to dance. I have decided. *nods*)
Plus we get Fen having *gasp* character growth?! For real real? And Myfanwy too? Oh snap! Characters be growing all up in this place! Then again, maybe Fen is just messing with everyone. Who knows. ;)
And then we parlay and the other gods are dicks. Were you surprised? I wasn't.
Next week: Shit. Gets. Real.
Next: 8/27/15
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