Siris is back for new adventures!
This time, she's travelling in the Emerald Graves! But why? What happened to Lady Caravel and Thom Rainier? How is the state of the world with Kirkwall's Circle's Rebellion?
The Emerald Graves. Siris heard only rumours about these lands; but clearly, she underestimated their beauty. Hectares and hectares of endless forest, with the biggest trees the young elf ever seen; all shades of green and brown and blue… The wildlife was glorious: hallas, bears, nugs, trolls, all kind of birds; and the flowers…! The flowers were living jewels! Magnificent.
The only down sides Siris could spot were the humans' buildings here and there; and, of course, the "Freemen of the Dales". Deserters from the Orlesian Army, the pure embodiment of stupidity. Siris could understand that one would be sick of doing things for someone else. Fighting in a war that does not concern you, is one of the few worst things Siris could think of. But killing innocent people for no other reason but to impose your power does not make your cause right. It cannot be justified.
Siris avoided everyone that looked remotely human: freemen, refugee, even the Dalish. Indeed, a small caravan of dalish elves was traveling somewhere around these parts. But Siris had no wish to go to them. She wore their "markings", but she knew how greatly they misunderstood these tattoos. Besides, Siris was not interested in people thinking they're better than anyone else.
The Emerald Graves had something Siris wanted to see: the ruins. Elven ruins, to be precise. The Deep Roads were too dangerous for her to venture, and the humans were not friendly with lone wandering elf. More than once she was mistaken with a mage, or – how they called – an "apostate". So, Siris decided to go studied deserted elven ruins, far away from any kind of civilisation. Solely for researches; scientific interest. At least, that would be her answer to anyone asking questions. But the truth had many nuances. Siris could feel a presence in her being. A presence that only grow with time and exposure to magic. As long as she could not identify it, she decided to remain on her own, and went seeking for answers in ancient ruins.
Din'an Hanin. The Emerald Knight's tomb. The Warriors' final resting place. "Resting" was a big word. The knights buried there were not at peace. When she set foot in the place, Siris could feel their restlessness. It was like feeling someone slowly waking up from a nightmare. Somehow, the young woman hoped that coming here will be worth it; because that place was giving her goose bumps. Careful with where she set her feet, Siris wondered in the ruin, studying any carvings, any writings she could see. Her attention was then drawn to the architecture. People could come here to pray, at some point. Before the whole building was forgotten by living memories. The place was beautiful, and a bit sad. But Siris felt honoured to be able to simply stand in here.
Suddenly, a crack.
Siris ducked and hid behind a stone column. But only silent welcomed her caution. Silent only disturbed by the wind in the trees and her heart racing in her chest.
Steps. She could hear steps. Heavy, like a sick person struggling to walk. He or she or it was wearing some kind of metal clothing: Siris could hear the jingling of the chain mails. As it moved to the other side of the temple, the young woman slowly crawled behind benches in the other direction. Between a pillar and big carved rocks which used to be part of the ceiling, she had a look. Yes. It was definitely a "it", and it was not the friendliest creature in all Thedas.
A revenant. Siris thought. Could be a demon…
She turned around to head for the exit.
She froze. The wall was not behind her last time she checked. And last time she checked, walls did not smell that bad. Or wore ancient armour. Siris looked up to meet blue lights as eyes looking down to her. A revenant. The elf tried to run away, but was stuck between the pillar and the rocks. As the revenant raised its hand, Siris saw everything ending. She was not ready to die; but that seemed inevitable… However, something reached her. Was it the old putrid hand of the revenant on her shoulder or the strange feeling on her heart? She could not say, but it was calming.
When Siris opened her eyes again, the revenant was standing still. Just looking at her, forbidding her to move with his heavy hand. It was like a skeleton with waxy greenish skin; and some slimy flesh in between. Its cheeks were empty: one had holes in it, showing what was left of inside the mouth. A bit of long white hair struggled to stay on its head. During these few minutes that seemed horribly long, Siris observed the revenant carefully, asking silently a million questions.
What is it doing right now? Why not killing her immediately? Was it waiting for its friend? Or was it going to perform some kind of ritual, which would have Siris –lucky her—as the sacrificial goat?
What was it before becoming a revenant? Was he a loyal guardian of the temple? An ancient enemy fallen on these ground in a forgotten battle, cursed to stay "alive" for all eternity? Was it human? Or elf? Perhaps, since it was so tall, was it a qunari? But then again, what would a qunari do in an ancient elven temple? Perhaps its Arishock had questions about the Emerald Graves or the ancient elves, a long time ago; and the man was sent to find answers. But ended up becoming a revenant… It was a theory. And Siris knew she will never have the truth: revenants did not speak.
The other revevant arrived. The first one turned Siris to face its friend. This one looked at her right in the eyes.
"Ma… halani."
Siris blinked. Revenants did not speak. They were not capable of doing so. That was what she learnt from her former master's studies. If it was true, how could it…
"Ma halani na (1)?" She said. "You want my help?"
"Halani." It repeated, somewhat relieved (although the emotion did not show very well).
The other revenant holding her by the shoulder slowly dragged her to the stairs. They went down, under the temple. Siris, when she entered the building, noticed the access, but it was too dark for her bravery to handled. The revenant who talked did not care for light until the living person in the group tripped on something for the hundred time. It reached for a torch, and blue flames came out of it.
"What is that?" Siris asked, both fascinated and scared by this strange fire.
She did not get an answer. The revenant's ability to talk seemed to have great limits.
They walked down stairs again then went to the back of the only room. The smell of dust and humidity was strong, yet Siris could feel a small draught on her face. The revenants lead her to the wall, which most of it was but rocks on the ground. From the quick look and the poor quality of light, Siris would say it was rather recent.
"Did you do that?" She asked, not receive nothing but silence.
"Did someone else came here?" She asked again, as a human-made arrow was abandoned on the floor, as they went down the hidden corridor, behind the fallen wall.
The corridor was long and plane. The architecture suggested something old –very old—but very solid too. However, the lack of decoration would let anyone think the place was building in a hurry. Was it already underground or did time covered it all with hearth and vegetation? Was it built by elves? From what she gathered from human civilisation, before a certain point in history, they weren't much of builders as they were know. As for the dwarves… no, this corridor was not part of a thaig.
Siris and the two Revenants walked for what seemed to be hours in this endless, old, rustic hallway. During that time, the elf could spot strange things. Presences of human-made objects and some red glowing mixtures. It looked like blood but had the same intensity of lyrium.
People came here, after the creation of this place. And these people had a hard time: had a point, the small group crossed path remains of revenants. The bodies were too damaged to allow them to remain alive: their eye sockets were just black hole, lifeless.
"Dareth… Din'an-…shiral… ma… falon…" The talking revenant muttered with his broken voice.
"Safe journey to death, my friend." Siris translated.
"Hanin… so'al… Din." The revenant said.
Siris had a glitch in her understanding. She was pretty sure it meant "Glory for the Dead", but the revenant's language was old and… well, pronounced with difficulty. For instance, the elf never heard the word "so'al". To many, elven was a dead language. But for people like Siris, who use it every day, it was very much alive: it changed. So, if this revenant learnt elvish centuries ago, it was not surprising that its vocabulary would be different from Sirs'. However, the young woman was surprised that the language was still, from what she heard, relatively similar.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the revenants, when they stopped. The small group was now in front of a wall. It was blasted, reduced to pieces by powerful magic, no doubt. Obviously, the ones who came here knew that the wall was but a condemned door; which lead to a dark room.
The revenant pushed Siris inside the room and waited outside.
As the young elf nearly crashed on the floor, torches on the walls lit up with blue ghostly fire. The room was gigantic. Low in height but deep and large, the floor and walls and ceilings were covered with glyphs, magical circles and retaining spells. Well… what was left of it all. Whoever stepped in the room before Siris, destroyed all the security. Siris followed the markings. Then she saw what these spells were supposed to guard.
There was a throne in the middle of the room. The backrest was tall and the sit was large. Obviously elven made, a man was sitting in that chair. He was an elf, tall, chained to the throne. A prisoner with an empty hand which used to hold an object, and a sword in the chest. Siris carefully came closer. She turned a concern look to the revenants, but they did not move an inch.
"I'm not sure what to do." She though out loud. "This man is dead."
-Is he?
Siris jumped.
"Who's there?!" She shouted.
-No one. Since I'm not "here", yet I am.
"What…?"
The voice had no origin in the room. It was neither the voice of a man or of a woman. Its tone was cracked, trembled, yet calm and determined. Siris could also detect a bit of amusment.
-I am Healer. That's what I am. It said as Siris looked all around her. You could say that I am a spirit. That's what I am. And I am in the Fade. And you are my pupil.
"I'm sorry to ask again but… What?"
-What? You really thought some kind of god saved you from the darkspawn's corruption? Believe me, if there is a god in this world, it is not living in the Fade. And honestly, I don't think it care much about us. So, pupil. I admit, I had quite some difficulties to talked to you. Your dreams where to chaotic for me to have a conversation with you, and the world you are living in is really poor with magic. But here… Here is perfect.
"Did you possess the talking revenant?"
-No. I am in the Fade, not "here". The revenant talked on its own. A strange performance, yet not surprising considering who he is guarding.
"That elf? Why so much trouble for a dead man?"
-That elf is many things but not dead. Asleep, but not dead.
"He as a sword in the chest." Siris bluntly said. "anyone who know that's lethal."
-Well… I am not "anyone", am I? That "man", as you say, is the reason why I cannot "physically" reach you. Why the Templars and the mages are at war today. Why the being in Thedas are terrified by magic.
"Are you talking about the Veil? The humans say it was the Maker who created it to punish the world from its sins."
-Since when do you believe in gods? Especially humans' "Maker"? The voice asked. As I said, this man is no god, but he sure though he was at some point. Less now. But that is not important anymore.
"Let's say I believe you" Siris said. "One man cannot be the sole reason of all that happened to the world: Veil and fear of magic and all." She continued while studying the dead elf. "Besides, I'm pretty sure he was killed only few days ago. If not by this sword, at least by time, hunger, thirst and asphyxiation… and the Veil was not created last spring."
-Indeed. One man cannot be the reason. Fear of magic is only a consequence. By being rare, magic became something difficult to understand. And what one cannot understand, one is afraid of it. Ask you templar friend, what's he's name…? Cullen. He's terrified of magic, and for good reasons. But imagine a world where I would be as much common as birds in the sky or grass on the ground. Cullen, even if he cannot cast spells, would not be terrorized by my kind; and so, by magic.
"For the record, Sir Cullen is not my friend." Siris growled. "And that does not explain how this man could have created the Veil and be punish for it; since the Veil is older than pretty much anything dead and alive today."
-Then, I'll do my very first lesson about the Art of Healing! Healer said, with a joyful voice. Namely: observing. When you are in front of a sick living being, or an injured one; the first thing you'll have to do is to observe. What you will see will put you on tracks about what wrong. Is the person suffering? Is he or she unconscious? Is he or she bleeding or sneezing or shivering? Now, look around you. What do you see?
Siris felt nervous. She did not agree being a spirit's pupil. She wanted to leave, to be far away, to have a warm cup of tea and few hours of sleep. However, she was pretty sure that if she tried to leave now, the Revenants would try to stop her. And Siris was no warrior.
"Alright…" She growled. "I see… creepy fire."
-Good! This fire is called "veilfire", it is a memory of flames.
"Magic then."
-Absolutely. And it appeared without you doing anything. And since we can talk while I'm not "here", what does all these informations tells you?
Siris had a long though. Her former master's mages friends used to complain about how their houses where not strong enough with "nature magic".
"This place is full with magic."
-Yes! Yes! What else do you see?
The elf looked around again. around the throne, there were all these circles on the ground, the walls and the ceiling. Obviously magic too, yet Siris could not feel anything from them. But, the sword in the elf's chest seemed powerful.
"The circles used to be magic, but they are inactive now. But the sword is different. Why would someone destroy restraining circles to kill the prisoner?"
-An excellent point. Healer said. Only by waking up the "dead man" can we find the answer.
Siris took a moment to process the sentence. Waking up the dead? That's it! She was crazy. She was hearing voices that asked her to perform blood magic. She was doomed!
"I'm no mage." Siris said, hoping to drive the demon away with reason. "And even if I was, I would rather die myself than bring the dead back to life."
-And I'm thankful for that. Necromancy is unkind to spirits. Healer said with sadness in its voice.
-But using magic is not necessary here, since the man is not, in a way, dead. Second lesson of the day: lethargy. A state in-between deep sleep and death. The person looks and feels dead, but is not. So, how do you know if someone is really dead or not?
"How should I know?"
-Guess!
Siris muttered small curses. Was this "Healer" a demon, it didn't act like one… or at least how would a demon act according to Siris' imagination. Should she play along or try to flee? To flee? She was hearing voices! How could she physicaly flee something that is in her head?Beside, it was hard to admit it, but the voice was saying interesting words. Was lethargy a real thing? How could she know if someone is really dead or not? Only one way to know.
She hesitated, but finally reached for the elf's heart. It was not beating, still like frozen waters. The prisoner was dead. Or was it? Perhaps… an old human slave back in Tevinter used to say that the soul's home was in the eyes. Perhaps it was the same for elves? The young woman opened one the "dead" man's eyes. The iris was light blue outside and green inside; and with dots of grey. Beautiful eyes, if Siris knew anything about it. Her first thought was that the irises were oddly pale. Probably a side effect of that "lethargic" state Healer was talking about. However, something was not right. Siris lifted the face to see better.
The pupils dilated.
The young woman jumped backward.
The man was alive. He was alive. He saw her.
"Healer! Healer! Do you hear me? He's alive! He's alive! What do I do?"
-Calm down, my pupil. He is alive, but cannot do anything else. Before we do anything else, here a word of advice; When someone is in lethargy, there are only to solution: if that person's eyes move like the elf's did (fast and extremely reactive), then the person is more likely to survive. If the pupils are slow to react, the odd of survivals are thin. Now, the sword in his chest is obviously the reason of his state. I suggest: take it off. Fear not: his kind are hard to kill, believe me.
Siris prayed to whoever might listen. She had no choice. The elf was alive: she could not decently let him like that. Then again, if he was indeed the one who created the Veil, then he might not be worthy of walking freely again. But if she did not do anything about his lethargic state, she might be stuck here forever.
The woman took the guard with both hands. It seemed heavy, and as she pulled the sword, she had to use all her strength.
(1) As usual, I'm taking some freedom with the language. Here "na" would be the accentuation of the question, like the "ma" in Chinese or the "ka" in Japanese.
Next chapter : coming soon!