(clafount: Welcome aboard. It was interesting to watch your progress through your reviews. XD

uchiha jinrai: Aw. Honestly, I was aiming to give us (well, me) a character development break between big plotty arcs. Sorry it didn't come out as restful as I was hoping it might be. Back to action now, though.)

74. A Fundamental Part of Living

"I still don't understand, Meila. Andraste was the one who freed the slaves. Aren't you excited?"

"No, I am not."

Of course Meila had not expected the journey to be quiet: not when she realized just who her new party was comprised of. Between the still-somewhat-heated banter that sprang up between Fin and Alistair, Zevran's frequent innuendos, and Leliana's… Leliana-ness, Meila Mahariel was certain that any game within miles would have been chased off by the constant noise, had the Blight not done that already.

Hahren Wynne alone seemed to appreciate the peace of silence, and so the Dalish elf found herself the most at ease when she walked alongside the elder woman.

Occasionally, the healer would pause by the roadside to pick a plant, detailing the various medicinal uses for such an herb—a good supplement, Meila found, for the brief lessons Lanaya had taught her—but the woman was otherwise quiet, simply enjoying the warm weather, and occasionally casting kind, if somewhat baffled, looks at the antics of the others.

But the Dalish elf could hardly avoid it altogether. Thus, when the resident Chantry sister sidled up next to Wynne and began asking her about the Ashes, Meila was unwittingly roped into it.

"I am," the bard continued. "People have been looking for her Ashes for a thousand years. Can you imagine? We might be the first to find them!"

"Don't get too excited, dear," Wynne said gently. "If we do, it certainly won't be easy."

"But if anyone can do it, the Wardens can," Leliana said with utmost confidence. "The Maker smiles on them."

The Dalish elf shot her a hard look. "Just what about having lost most of our order—including our commander—and being betrayed by the king's adviser makes you think your Maker smiles upon us?"

"I believe he does," she said calmly. "I have seen you Wardens do amazing things so far, and I know I will see you do more. You give people hope in a very dark time. That is why, if Andraste's remains are to be found by anyone, it must be you."

"Or perhaps it is all some great jest by the Dread Wolf, who is only building us up to fail for his own amusement."

"I can't see how any deity would find the Blight amusing. Your gods must be very cruel if you believe that."

Meila did her best not to pounce on the other woman right there. "The one god certainly is, but only because he tricked our benevolent Creators into trapping themselves where they cannot reach us. At least the Creators do not willingly turn from us in a time of need, as your Chantry claims your Maker does."

"But I believe the Chantry is wrong about that!" Leliana protested vehemently. "The Maker is here. He does care about us. That is how I know we will win!"

"You speak of winning and losing as if this is some sort of tourney with a chance at clean victory. When the Blight corrupts everything and kills entire villages, can any such thing possibly exist? How could your Maker allow such a thing to happen in the first place?"

"It is not His fault. It is the old Tevinter magisters who corrupted the Golden City and began the Blight-"

"And your Maker was powerless to stop them? How can you claim he is all-powerful, then?"

"And yet your Creators did nothing as well."

"Because they were trapped by one of their own! Not because they grew upset with us and decided not to interfere in favor of pouting like a child denied a toy!"

"Because we betrayed and murdered the woman He loved! Would you not be angry with someone, if they had done the same?"

Meila threw her hands in the air. "But this is my point! How selfish is it, for your Maker to deny the rest of the world his care, simply because of something that happened centuries ago to a single woman?"

"You cannot call the Maker selfish. You cannot know His mind."

"And yet you claim to."

The women glared coldly at one another, until Wynne's sigh broke the silence. "And that, I think, is enough of that discussion."

"I am sorry you feel that way, Meila," Leliana said softly. "Truly, I am. Even if you don't believe in Him, I know the Maker will watch over you."

"Don't patronize me, shemlen," the Dalish elf growled. "I don't need your empty platitudes."

"They are not empty-"

"Girls," Wynne cut in wearily. "Please."

Meila obligingly fell silent and turned her efforts to ignoring the bard's existence, if only because she didn't want to upset the hahren she owed so much to. Upon turning her attention forward, she noticed the boys glancing over their shoulders at them with some concern. Meila could feel her face flush—it was usually not in her nature to make such a scene.

It was just as well that the party had fallen into a tense silence, anyway, because it wasn't long before Meila felt the burning pinpricks that indicated the proximity of darkspawn. On reflex, she whipped out her bow, and she saw Alistair and Finian draw their weapons at the same instant. Following their lead, their companions also got into ready stances, and a glance behind them ensured that Bodahn and Sandal had stopped their wagon and were looking for a defensive position.

They were on a stretch of road that had once been farmland, scattered with a few ragged, sick copses of trees. Gently sloping hills obscured the sight, but Meila guessed that Lothering couldn't be more than an hour ahead of them at this point. Still, the curves and dips of the farmland were sufficient to block the sight of the darkspawn Meila knew to be nearby.

She heard a guttural growl to the right, and whipped her bow toward the offending sound. A moment later, a trio of genlocks ran over a hill into view, Fang growling and nipping at their heels. Meila let fly without even thinking of it, taking one of the creatures in the side. A moment later, another arrow tore through its throat. The Dalish elf glanced sidelong at Leliana.

This, at least, was one thing they had in common.

Even as Meila let her next arrow fly, she was aware of darkspawn emerging from the dips and turns in the land all around them. She had a rhythm to these kinds of fights, aiming and loosing, and then reaching for her next arrow before the previous had hit its mark. On some level, she knew the boys engaged the creatures around them, but her focus was on the archers that hung back to take her comrades out from behind.

And then, an emissary stepped over the hill, waving its arms in glowing circles. She nocked an arrow and took aim, but too late.

Lightning burst forward from the emissary's hands, and the party was engulfed in a tangle of burning bolts that bounced between them.

Meila jerked under the burning pain, dropping her bow. Everything went numb and white for a moment, then screamed back to life in pinpricking agony. She was on the ground, her limbs floundering every which way, unable to draw breath correctly as her lungs twitched and locked up of their own accord.

Then, a curious warmth settled over her, soothing the burned muscles and returning her body to her own control. She took a deep, much-needed breath and looked up to see Wynne still standing. The healer stood with her arms outstretched—one hand over Meila, and one over Leliana—with healing magic pulsating around her in a way that Meila had never seen any Keeper or healer accomplish before. Wisps of light flickered around her.

A glance over at the emissary revealed that Fang had taken down the spellcaster, but the Wardens weren't out of danger yet, given the dozen darkspawn that charged in at their prone forms.

Meila didn't waste time recovering. Her bow had been dropped and had clattered out of reach by the side of the road, but that didn't mean Meila was defenseless against the darkspawn that circled around them. The elf sprang to her feet and drew her hunting knife, slashing out at the nearest genlock with vigor that denied the vestiges of pain still settled into her muscles. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leliana draw twin daggers to do the same.

Wynne started forward, running for where the boys remained prone, but a pair of hurlocks charged in to block the healer's path. Meila dove in front of the healer, slashing out with her knife, and one skittered back, growling through the newly opened slash at its throat. Meila felt the other dig claws into her side, and it took a couple stabs to pry the creature off her. Fang loped in to finish off the other.

Wynne fell to her knees over the boys' forms and began to glow, and Meila took it upon herself to guard the healer while she worked. They were surrounded by a ring of darkspawn, the monsters spitting and growling. Two dove in from opposite sides of the circle, and it was all Meila could do to leap between them with her knife, standing practically on top of the kneeling mage.

One creature threw itself into her knife, shrieking as she twisted the weapon in its gut. The other monster latched onto her left shoulder, its claws digging painfully into her skin through her leathers. When she felt its teeth dig into her shoulder, she yanked her knife out of the darkspawn in front of her and stabbed the one clinging to her in the eye. It fell back.

More darkspawn immediately swamped her, no less than three clawing at her, blocking her view of the battlefield. The only indications she had about what was going on were the white wolf's growl and Leliana's shouts.

Then, the hurlock to Meila's left was yanked away by its ankle, then kicked across the road by a particular ex-Templar. Alistair clambered to his feet next to Meila, scooped up his shield from the ground, and bashed another genlock over the head.

Meila sighed in relief as Finian and Zevran hopped to their feet as well, each taking one of the creatures down in a whirl of blades.

Warmth flooded Meila's limbs, and wounds she hadn't even been aware of sustaining closed up. She glanced over at Wynne; the elder's smile was tight, but warm.

The addition of three more fighters proved to even the odds, and it was only a matter of time before they were all standing over a pile of corpses. Meila retrieved her bow while the others went about ensuring that all the darkspawn stayed down.

"Well, that was refreshing," Alistair said, wiping blackened blood off his face.

"That isn't the word I would have used," Wynne sighed, then swayed rather alarmingly. Meila was at her elbow immediately. "I'm alright, Meila," the healer said, rubbing a temple with one hand. The healer's words were proven false a moment later when her legs buckled. Meila caught the woman before she collapsed, and found that the elderly woman was a dead weight in her arms.

"Maker's breath!" Leliana jogged over from the dwarves' cart, having apparently taken it upon herself to defend the merchants (And she'd succeeded on her own? That was curious). The bard now watched the healer with all the concern Meila felt. "She looks so pale, does she not?"

Finian walked up to stand beside them, twirling a pair of looted coins between his fingers. "We should find a place to rest, I think."

"Agreed," Alistair said.

"Lothering is not far from here," the bard said. "We will be able to get her a nice warm bed there, no?"

Meila found herself exchanging a glance with Fin. The other elf winced sympathetically, but nonetheless said, "I would… steel yourself, Leliana. Lothering isn't exactly in the state you left it."

"What do you mean?" The bard glanced between the three elves. Even Zevran wasn't making light of the situation, as much as Meila would have expected him to. "What has happened?"

"The darkspawn," Meila said shortly, and that was all that needed to be said. The Orlesian's eyes widened, and then turned to stare over the horizon, toward the distant village. The bard swallowed.

"Still," Fin sighed, "it's better than making camp out here in the open. Come on." He turned and started through the sea of darkspawn corpses.

Alistair sidled up beside Meila. "You need help with her?"

The Dalish elf didn't deign to answer the human, instead scooping up the unconscious woman and taking it upon herself to bear the burden. Alistair could be heard sighing and muttering something, but nonetheless fell behind to go talk to the dwarves.

For once, the Wardens walked in silence, which was only broken when they crested a ridge in the road and came upon the ruin of Lothering. The Orlesian gasped, and Bodahn could be heard fretting about the destruction.

Meila couldn't blame them; the ruins were no easier to look upon the second time around. The Dalish elf could not understand why so many of the humans had remained in the village, despite knowing about the approaching darkspawn. Had they not understood that remaining in one place would mean their obvious doom? Yet, even so, seeing the wanton destruction made something inside her ache.

Finian, who had been leading them to that point, paused and turned. "Any suggestions on where to take shelter?"

"While I was setting up my ambush to kill you," the assassin said lightly, "I could not help but notice that the Chantry seemed relatively intact. That is probably the most defensible position we can hope for. It is certainly better than sitting in the middle of town and hoping no opportunists are around to take advantage this time, yes?"

"Is there something we should know here?" Alistair's voice piped up, and Zevran chuckled. Even so, the Wardens resumed their march down into the town. Meila did not like the idea of staying in a ruined shrine to the humans' Maker, but the burden in her arms stilled any of her protests.

Leliana remained eerily silent as they made their way into the ruined village. Meila couldn't help but watch the bard out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't particularly fond of the lay sister, but that did not mean Meila would have wished this upon her. It was obvious from the stunned look on Leliana's face that this had once been home to her.

Meila could not imagine coming upon her clan's camp, only to find them all killed. Losing Tamlen had been difficult enough to bear.

They made their way through the town in silence. The corpses had been picked over by scavengers, but Meila couldn't help but notice that there were no signs of any animals feeding off the remains. In fact, the only animal Meila could detect nearby was Fang, and even he seemed reluctant to linger near the Tainted corpses.

There was debris piled in front of the Chantry doors, but Alistair and Zevran cleared it with little fuss. Meila followed the boys inside, her arms aching from her burden but refusing to flag.

The interior of the Lothering Chantry was as good as a tomb. It was dark and dusty, and the acrid stench of stale decay filled the air despite the shattered windows letting streams of dirty sunlight in above them. The corpses strewn around had died in the same manner as those outside, though some had obviously been afforded much quicker deaths than others.

Despite tears in her eyes, Leliana skittered ahead and brushed down what had once been a refugee's pallet. Meila laid the healer on the bedding, then opened her herb pouch to see whether she had any revival herbs on hand.

"Maker…" Alistair whispered, staring at the bodies. "Anyone want to help me… um… clean this place up a bit?"

"I'll help you," Leliana whispered, standing. "It is the least I can do, to make sure they are all given a proper burial."

Alistair and Leliana began moving the bodies, taking them outside. Zevran joined in, seemingly for lack of anything else to do… though Meila did see his fingers wandering into pockets as he did so. Bodahn snuck into the Chantry while they were doing this, his hand protectively over his son's eyes; the merchant ushered Sandal to a corner of the room and distracted him from the scene with something small and round.

Fin knelt on the other side of the pallet, drawing her attention back to the task at hand. "Is she all right?"

"It is hard to say," Meila answered honestly. "I am no healer." She placed a hand on the healer's forehead. The woman's skin was clammy, but not too warm or too cold …at least not as far as she could tell. "But collapsing can hardly be a good sign."

Fin nodded, looking worried. "Is there anything you need? Herbs, or something?"

Meila shook her head, upending her herb pouch on a relatively clean stretch of stone. "Nothing that we could get on land this tainted by the Blight." She found a chunk of Deep Mushroom, recalling Lanaya explaining that the reagent had energy-restoring characteristics. She'd also said something about it having less effect on mages… something to do with their connection to the Fade.

Meila hesitated, uncertain. She picked up the bit of mushroom to try simply putting it in the healer's mouth, but a smooth Antivan accent interrupted her. "I would distill that first, were I you."

Meila turned a hard look up at the assassin, who was standing over them with his hands on his hips. "And what would you know about potions?" she challenged.

"Ah, not potions, perhaps. But there is very little practical difference between a bungled potion and a well-made poison, yes?"

Meila felt herself pale. "This should not be poisonous. I was told warriors chew this to supplement their energy during long battles."

"And assassins slip it into food to induce heart attacks in particularly elderly and frail victims... to avoid suspicion of foul play, as it were. While our dear Wynne is quite… well-kept for a woman her age, she is still no spring chicken, yes?"

Meila reluctantly nodded, seeing the logic in his words. She suppressed a wave of guilty anxiety at what had almost happened. "I thank you for speaking up, then. You suggested distilling it?"

He looked amused, but then, when did he not? "It was a simple mistake, for a beginner. No need to look as if I have kicked your favorite puppy, my beautiful elven maiden."

"I do not," she said harshly, suspecting this was a lie. Even so, she turned her concentration to pulling out her tinder and getting a spark up to boil the bit of mushroom in distillation agent.

Zevran shrugged, and both he and Fin turned to help clear out the Chantry. This left Meila alone with her thoughts. She dove into the task of mixing up something to revive the hahren. There was nothing else for it, because the only one who might have been able to tell her what was wrong was Wynne herself.

While the others shuffled around her before finally leaving, she brewed up the potion and tipped it into the mage's mouth. There was no response as Meila gently set the flask aside, and she sat back to watch the healer, wondering what else she could do.

Then, the hahren's eyelids fluttered, and Meila sat up. Wynne's eyes opened, coming to rest on her a moment later. "Ah, for a moment I'd thought… never mind. Thank you, Meila. I can only assume the taste of Deep Mushroom on my tongue is your doing?"

"Mine and the assassin's," the elf admitted.

"Truly? Perhaps… there is more to him than I had initially thought."

"Perhaps," Meila agreed. "But I still do not trust him."

Wynne's smile was warm, igniting a spark of relief in the elf. "I would expect nothing less than utter vigilance from you, my dear." With great care, the elder woman sat up, and Meila reached forward to help her. Wynne looked around. "What is this place?"

"The Lothering Chantry. What remains of it, anyway."

"So I see," Wynne breathed. By now, the bodies had been cleared, but the destruction and bloodstains remained. "Rarely has the necessity of what you Wardens do been more clear."

Meila nodded, helping the woman to stand. "Are you all right? You collapsed. We were all concerned."

"I suspect that is another of your understatements," Wynne said, retaining her smile. "I am well, considering the circumstances."

Meila frowned, confused. "I do not understand. What circumstances?"

Wynne sighed. "I suppose it is time I explain myself. Come, let us find the others. I have something we must discuss."

Meila nodded, leading the healer out of the Chantry and into the afternoon light. The scent of burning flesh instantly assaulted Meila's senses, and she merely needed to turn her head to see a pillar of smoke rising from just outside town. Immediately, Meila unstrapped her bow and sprinted toward the disturbance, the healer following somewhat unsteadily at her heels.

She ran down the path out of the village, rounding a hillock to come upon the souce of the smoke. There, she skidded to a stop.

A makeshift pyre burned in a clearing where a collection of refugee tents had previously stood, the blaze spewing Tainted smoke into the sky. Zevran, Fang, and Fin all hovered just ahead of where Meila stopped, the latter turning to greet the two women with a nod. Next to the pyre, bodies were laid out in neat rows, and Alistair grimly moved between them, loading bodies onto the fire. Leliana stood before the pyre, chanting through tears.

Meila was not familiar with human funeral rites, but there was no doubt that this was such, and something in her quailed at the idea of simply sitting idly by while others honored the fallen. Thus, when Wynne stepped forward to join in, Meila found herself following. She stooped next to Alistair and helped him carry a particularly hefty body.

Leliana paused in her singing for a moment at the sight of Meila's participation. Then, the bard's face crumpled into a grateful almost-smile, seemingly incapable of any truly happy expression. Meila felt a pang of… something, but turned away and concentrated on the task at hand without analyzing it.

Then, Leliana resumed her chant, commending the souls of the dead to peace at their Maker's side, and it struck Meila that, whatever the differences between humans and elves, grief—one of the most fundamental parts of the experience of living—remained very much the same.