New chapter!
Enjoy! Bonne lecture!
The Emerald graves were beautiful, as always. Siris enjoyed walking under the tall trees, feeling the fat green grass between her toes. The air was fresh… silent. The animals and the wind must be at sleep, yet the sun was up. Or at least there was light coming through the canopy. No matter. The young elven woman walked toward a ruin. As she walked underneath an arch, the saw a man leaning on his desk. Human, tall, blond curly hair. Knight-Captain Cullen, although he was not wearing his templar armor. Instead, he had on his back only simple civilian clothes; but with a sword handing on his belt. He rose his head, looked right at her.
"There is a clue you are missing." He said with a soft voice, one she never heard before. "You need to remember."
"Remember what?" Siris asked.
"Healing requires a lot of efforts. But committing a sin only needs one decision." Rainier whispers as he was locked in a small cage hanging from the wooden ceiling.
As he talked, Rainier was trying to reach the key of his prison. The key was hanging too, not far from the cage, yet just enough the soldier could only feel it with the tip of his finger. So close yet so far.
"One is being made." Mother Maryse of the Kirkwall Chantry said, exiting the room through the wall, opening the access towards a desert.
Siris followed her. Her feet landed on burning dry sand. The heat was crushing, yet familiar. The young elf started to walk towards distant cliffs. Soon another familiar face joined her walk, white-hair elf named Fenris.
"No one can know, if you don't tell them." He said. "Don't be a slave."
"The Elder One asks for the elf. The healer knows, we have to question her!" Ser Fernand said, facing her, standing under the sun, full tevinter templar armor, few meters in front of her. His skin was glowing with red.
"But why?" Siris asked with someone else's voice.
"She knows the Ancient God. She let him loose. He is trouble, but the Orb doesn't work. The Elder One demands answer, and we'll give him that!"
The sun was high in the sky when Siris opened her eyes. Her foot wasn't hurting anymore. Her head was lighter; but her mind was heavy with thoughts. Was it a dream? She never dreamt of anything quite as strange. All these people: Cullen, Maryse, Rainier, Fenris and Fernand… They all looked so real, yet the environment kept changing, like in a dream. A now, she remembered something important.
Knowledge.
It makes a slave worth something.
It cuts through people like a heated blade.
It destroyed the ground on which kings and queens stood.
Knowledge was what they wanted; whoever "they" might be. This Elder One and his fanatics. That name was familiar… "Elder One".
Memories of her arrival at Redcliff and her time in the small village kept tumbling in a chaotic way in her head. She heard the name before. In the village. She was taking care of Nicolas. Everybody was an asleep, she was exhausted. Why haven't she reacted?
Solas would want to know.
Siris sat on the edge of the bed. She was in a chantry: only a human chantry could put so many representations of Andraste in one's room. The bed was huge, but that was because humans were taller… and because Siris was rather small for her specie. She tried to put a bit of weight on her injured foot. No sign of pain. She stood up: nothing worth of note. She grabbed her clothes: the dress Solas made her; the only one she had leaving the village. It was sad to watch how her last adventure treated the piece of clothing. The clerics tried to mend it back to its prime, but only Solas truly knew how to make a dress pretty it seemed. A shame. Well… at least, now she looks more like a southern elf from an alienage rather than someone's esteemed friend. Less ominous, and less likely to be a victim of theft. Still, she had to be cautious. Humans were unreliable.
Her bag was untouched in a corner, her necklace still around her neck. Siris grabbed her things and left the room. As she went down the stairs, Siris tried to remain as silent as possible. She needed to contact Solas, but trusted no one. If Templars were corrupted, so could the clerics and any other intelligent being who has a problem with the current state of the world. Besides, in a corner of her mind, she could feel Healer watching. Never before Siris could sense the Spirit's link so strongly. Either the Veil was really thin here, or there were a lot of mages around. And from what she could remember of Redcliff Village, it was currently bending other the weight of lots of refugees from the war between mages and templars… The latest news only described more violence, more blood, more victims. Redcliff village was known to have dealings with magic. Siris had the strong impression that the people arguing outside all day were not simple humans.
From the dryness of her throat, Siris remained unconscious during at least three days. She remembered the moment she stepped inside Redcliff: she put one of the twin she was holding on the floor, then fell unconscious. After that, she could only grab straps of her surroundings: voices, conversations, sometimes a face.
As she crept towards the Chantry's backdoor, Siris grabbed in the kitchens a bottle of water and some food. Then, she exited the building. She did not want to speak to Sister Emma. Right before they arrived in the village, the young human made it clear that no matter how much she could sing the Chant of Light, she put the blame about last events on Siris. As such, she refused to see the young elf. It was better this way. Siris never was good at making friends anyway.
"I cannot believe it…!" She muttered as she bypassed the chantry and went further in the village.
How many people was currently living in Redcliff?! She could not swing a stick without hitting someone! Not matter. She had to find somewhere quiet.
From what she could hear, outside of the village was suicidal: Templars and Mages killed anybody and everybody. Down the dock perhaps? She walked past a dwarven merchant, then a small wooden house. Something was wrong about it, but the elf did not care enough to worry about such thing. Besides, she had enough trouble as it was. She walked past a young man talking to a fellow human. He seemed in distress, ashamed. Siris did not understand what he was saying: she did not have the full story. But it was about making a huge mistake when he was a young boy… No matter. Siris walked down the docks and sat on the edge as far as possible from any pair of ears, pointy or not.
For a long moment, Siris remained still. Despite the animation in the village, this part was rather quiet… or at least calming. There was the castle, surrounded by water. The sun was up in a clear blue sky, and its rays reflected on the surface of the water with millions of diamonds. There was a bit of wind, some birds which, despite the area's chaos, remained in the region. For a brief moment, Siris wished she could forget: forget the village, the red templars; forget Kirkwall and the darkspawn attack; forget Tevinter all together. But she couldn't. even if she did not have clues for Solas, Healer chose her to remember a great deal of knowledge. It would not take kindly if Siris ignore her duties. After contacting Solas, the elf will go to the humans and try to be social a bit. Perhaps they need a healer?
The stone hanging on her necklace –now resting in her hand— started to gently glow. Suddenly, Solas appeared in front of her. It was like he was standing on the water's surface, but in truth he was simply standing on solid floor, leaning against a tree trunk. It seemed he "encouraged" his hair to grow back. It was know a series of dark brown long braids growing on the top of his head, laid down on his shoulder and going down his hip. Was it dark brown? The colours were not good.
"Andaran atish'an, lethallan." He said. "You look dreadful."
His mouth was moving, but his voice only echoed in Siris' head.
"Andaran atish'an, Solas." She answered. "You should have seen me three days ago."
He frowned in concern. It was strange to see him like that. They did not leave on the best of terms, even if a letter proved the contrary. It was the first time they saw each other since the Village.
"After you left, the village have been attacked by templars all red. I think they are using some sort a lyrium, but I do not have more details. Anyway, they talked and I heard something that might interest you. Are you alone?"
Solas looked around him, walked some distance then cast a spell. He was in the snow.
"Here should be far enough. Chantry Sisters are nosy, aren't they…" He said with a hint of frustration. "What is it you heard?"
Oddly enough, he looked anxious, in his own way. Was he hoping to hear good news?
"Have you heard of an "Elder One"?" Siris asked.
"No. Does this "Elder One" you are talking about have my orb?"
"I'm certain of it. The templars that serve him killed an entire village to catch me, so I could answer questions about you. Whoever that Elder One is, he wants you badly. And not in a good way."
Solas grinned.
Siris remained silent a long moment, before realising the second meaning of her last sentence.
"No... No! Not like that!" she shouted, her face turning red.
Her eyes looked around. No one seemed to have heard her. Good. That did not stop Solas from laughing. It was a nervous laugh, but he seemed to need it.
"Have you managed to make new friends? To find clues?"
Solas calmed down and his expression turn back to his usual cold self.
"No." He said. "Few are as learned as you. Making simple conversation without hitting some ridiculous superstitions is difficult. Where are you?"
"Redcliff Village. Why?"
"I'm in a village named Haven. We should meet. You know more about this Elder One than I, and with so many templars around, I do not feel safe using our necklaces."
"We agree on that much…" Siris muttered while looking around. "Where and when?"
"The leader of the Chantry, the "Divine" as the humans say, is arranging a grand meeting with the leaders of this war; in a place named "the Temple of Sacred Ashes". I think we should attend, too. Perhaps the templars and the mages there would talk; and in that case, one cannot have too many ears."
Siris felt her own ears drop as a reaction. To get there, she'll have to cross the Hinterlands. Which are filled with angry Templars and crazy Mages.
"I suggest we meet at Haven." Solas said. "Use your healing skills to get inside: it is currently under the Divine's authority, but they are sheltering many refugees who need help. You should not have too much problem, as long as you don't use magic."
"Do you know how many bloodthirsty crazy people are standing between me and Haven?!" Siris complained. "I know it's important, but I won't be of use dead!"
"Calm down." Solas sighed.
He gestured and muttered words, and suddenly, the necklace had a knew shine.
"This should keep they away." He said. "Now, please, join me here. The Conclave will happen in a week. Try to be at Haven before that, if you can."
Siris did not have much of a choice. She would have preferred to stay in Redcliff, attending to the wounded and hoping to see the Apprentice Smith and Ser Jean showing up at the gates, alive and well. But it has been three days and from what she gathered: no one arrived since they did. Besides, with so many mages around, Ser Jean would have not been allowed inside the village. As for sister Emma, she wanted to do nothing with the elf; no matter how helpful she was back in the village. Siris had to admit: she was disappointed. She thought she made a friend, like Lady Caravel or Ser Rainier. But it did not happen. No one could blame Emma from being in chock: she was a young chantry sister who lived most of her life in the middle of Orlais' countryside. Still…
Solas gave words of encouragement, then had to cut the communication: some humans were heading his way.
Siris put the necklace back around her neck, stood up and walked toward the rest of the village. Redcliff to Haven… How long of a journey was it? She remembered where the other village were from a map hanging on a wall back at Ser Jean's Chantry. But how long would it take to walk there? Especially with so many obstacles between the elf and her objective?
She could thank of that later. Siris needed supplies. Ah. And she need money to buy food… Perhaps she could appeal to the mages, show the little magic she had to prove she's one of them? It was risky, but only them were distributing food for free. Well… One who tries nothing has nothing. Or not… As Siris arrived at the distribution point, she saw Emma helping. As far as the young human is concern, Siris is no mage.
"…yes. No children. But strong capable can come, has long as they don't slow the group down…" A strong voice said.
There was another gathering at the Hero of Ferelden memorial. Siris approach.
"What's happening?" she asked with the most Ferelden accent she could come up with.
"Good –harmed—Samaritans are offering to escort some of us to the Temple of Sacred Ashes for the Conclave." A man, a mage, answered.
Now that was interesting. Siris used her smallness to find a path through the thick crowd. When she arrived at the centre of the commotion, her mind went blank.
Standing on a crate, a man was trying to bring some order. He was tall, strong. His hair was black and long enough to be held in a bun. He did not have time the shave this morning, but that only made him more handsome, according to the ladies chuckling like teenagers around Siris. He was wearing a blue coat underneath pieces of heavy armor. His shield was handing on the back of his shoulder, a sword on his belt.
He was the same, if not healthier and better outfitted.
Thom Rainier.
I hope you like it! New chapter coming soon.