The Balance of Wings Chapter 59: Only in the Darkness, a dragon age fanfic

Chapter 59: Only In the Darkness

Bruna

"Dealing with the unknown is like walking in a dark place with a lantern held aloft, edging forward with faltering steps and peering blindly into the murk. When it is a path you have walked before, the darkness is irrelevant. Only in the darkness of the unknown can you truly understand how small you are…"

The air in the tunnels was oppressive and had an underlying odor that rivaled the arl's garderobe. It was not just the mustiness either. With the stream rushing through, one would assume it would clear the reeking smell, but the stench would not be alleviated. Having lived in such a way that I attended to the sick and also dealt with the potential of decaying food, I am not one easily put off by unpleasant odors, but the air was close to making me reel and my head ached. Even over time the constant bombardment did not entirely numb my nose to its presence and it continued to cloy me.

Morrigan noticed the wrinkling of my nose at one point and observed dispassionately, "It is the smell of darkspawn. This is not nearly as bad as the Deep Roads, but they have definitely been here and it mayhap be worse the further in we venture."

The scouts accompanying us were visibly uneasy and followed with reluctance etched on their faces. Even I recalled the old tales of the monsters that would periodically erupt from the deep places through forgotten or disused caverns, so dark that they mocked the daylight with their ill-made visages. Young children were often chided in the villages to forgo venturing into darkened caves for fear of being snatched. As men, these Avvars still possessed a healthy wariness of such cautions.

Letha walked ahead of us, guiding us as her lucidity allowed. She vacillated between single-minded haste while we would near scramble to keep up only to be delayed by her crumbling purpose when her lyrium-born insecurity and confusion would cause her pause. We would mill about in the dim torchlight, a feared to stray beyond the circles of light, waiting for Letha to regain herself.

The further we travelled the stops became briefer but more frequent. These stops had little to do with confusion since her movements were trembling tinged as she tried to withstand the terror she had been burying within. What she had escaped from still dwelt in the caves. Her lapses of memory protected her from the crippling horror of the darkness, but with our venturing we were re-awakening them within her.

At roughly two days trudge into the tunnels, Letha stopped at a fork. The stream had gained force and resembled a river in its size and power as it issued from the left tunnel. The tunnel to our right had a far more evil air emanating from it than what we had been choking on up to that point. There was little space with which to walk down the river tunnel, though it was manageable if we walked single file along the rocky outcroppings.

For a moment Letha went rigid and wide eyed, starting to back away from the left tunnel. I felt myself tense, prepared to catch her if she bolted. This journey was taking a mental and emotional toll on the girl and I feared that the strain would tear something within her, doing damage far too extensive to heal and yet we had no other alternative other than to prod her forward.

With the loss of the light I had begun to measure time by the apples I carried in my pack. As a cook I knew the changes in fruit as it began to wane and decay, particularly aware of how long these changes took. The taut flesh of the apples had begun to grow soft and yielding. By the time the apples could be mashed without effort in a closed fist and prickled to the taste we had to be ready to offer aid to Grey from within the Templar encampment, weakening the defenses. I feared what would happen to the Avvar forces without if we did not arrive in time to our necessary destination as we were unable to reliably send word to Grey to apprise him of our situation.

As if unwilling to go any further, Letha began to shake her head and back away. Morrigan had stepped forward, making her way around me so quietly that I had taken no notice of her until she was there. Sidling up to Letha, she gently took her hand and spoke soft words that I could not decipher from where I stood. In the dimness, Morrigan's face was inscrutable, but it somehow calmed Letha. Her posture softened and she began to nod, inclining herself more towards Morrigan before leaning her head upon the dark woman's shoulder. In response, Morrigan stiffened slightly, probably unaccustomed to such contact, but then placed a hand on the small of Letha's back in a simultaneously gentle and awkward gesture of comfort.

When Letha appeared to be sufficiently mollified, Morrigan beckoned the men behind us. Keeping firm hold of Letha's hand, Morrigan crept forward, edging onto the narrow ledge just above the river. Her other hand held her staff, reaching it out and pointing it into the darkness. With a few muttered words the tip of it began to glow like a beacon in the darkness, providing a better view of what lay ahead.

We travelled along the narrow path for an extensive amount of time, trying to maintain our footing so that none of us fell into the roiling and rushing water close to our feet. Eventually the path widened and led into a larger cavern, like a grand indentation into the tunnel wall, providing a bank for us to camp upon. The river made the stone damp and we huddled to keep warm, though Morrigan pointedly disengaged herself from the rest of us and squatted in the far corner of the cavern. I bundled Letha as best as I could to prevent her bone thin frame from rattling with cold and brewed tea in my battered pot to ease her into sleep.

After Letha drifted off, I approached Morrigan where she sat and found a perch near her but not too close so that she would not feel crowded, "Thank you for calming Letha. For a moment I was afraid she would bolt."

"As was I," she spat back, shrugging off my thanks, "The gratitude is unnecessary. I needed her to continue forward the same as you."

"Of course," I allowed, keeping my tone neutral.

Morrigan glared at me out of the corner of her eye, "Do not give me that look. You are all a means to an end. When I have what I require I will depart from you."

"What is it that you require, by the way? You have yet to tell me," I asked, crossing my arms in front of me to stave off some of the cold that was creeping into my limbs from the damp air.

"It need not concern you so," she huffed, settling farther back onto her haunches as if she were a donkey preparing to be jerked by its halter. Her stubborn posturing indicated that she would not be prodded by me to betray anything of her plans.

I placatingly held up my hands, "You need not be cross, I was merely curious is all. Normally you are not this short with me."

She harrumphed with that observation and stated, "I need not play sweet with you. You see through me, I know. There is no point in trying to maintain pretenses of pleasantry between us. You do not have to like me and I do not have to like you; neither you nor I will be manipulated."

"Is that what you think I am trying to do…manipulate you?" in her petulance she was revealing more than I had expected.

"Do not play simpleton with me, Mountain Mother," the address she used was tinged with quiet venom, "You are no fool and neither am I. You have made it quite clear that you disapprove of my seeking after old relics that I might utilize against Flemeth. There is no need for denials. It is wasted breath. I know your measure!"

I shook my head sadly, "You may not know as much as you would like to think, neither about me nor what you could be attempting to harness."

She snorted, "I know all I require, spare me the lecture."

"I feel sorry for you Morrigan," I leveled with her, quite agreeing that the dancing we had been attempting around one another was pointless, "You may think you have my measure, but I truly know yours. When I look at you I see a young woman who is so accustomed to being used that she knows no other way and cannot conceive kindness. Is that all you think you were meant for: to be used and cast away? Is that what you assume people are only considering when they approach you?"

She turned from me, offering me only her back. If she had been in the woods she might have escaped, taken off into the shadows to resist the words I spoke, but here she was trapped by the rock walls of the tunnels and her own walls within herself. Morrigan was lost in a labyrinth that she had fashioned as surely as she was lost in these tunnels that she had entered into willingly, thinking she could navigate herself and everyone else.

"Has there been no one who refused to merely take from you?" I asked, feeling overwhelming pity for the wounded creature before me.

"You know nothing of me…" she suddenly jumped to her feet and spun around to face me. Her eyes stared down her nose disdainfully at me and her lips curled into a sneer. Unwittingly, however, she backed into the cavern wall, using it to steady herself.

"Ah, someone has cared for you then…" I observed softly, realizing that I had prodded a wound she had been concealing, "What happened to them?"

"I know not what you could be speaking of," she feigned ignorance, trying to regain her former indifference like a broken shield that was destined to crack in twain with another blow.

"You must have cared about them too, though you are trying to forget that they mattered…and that you mattered to them…"

"Leave me alone," she finally ground out, aiming her staff at me in obvious warning, her slitted eyes containing a cold menace, communicating that I had pushed too far.

Cornering a wounded animal is never wise, particularly one near feral with desperation that had nothing left to lose. She was surrounded by an aura that kept building in intensity until it threatened to rival the firelight with its glow. Whether she was aware of it or not, she was calling magic to her, unconsciously preparing to strike back at something she perceived to be a threat: me.

For the second time that day, I was prevented from responding as a voice interrupted us, "Peace! The darkness here is not so great that we must fight amongst ourselves."

Letha approached, seeming unaffected by the tea she had taken earlier. Her eyes were bright and her countenance serene as she purposely placed herself between Morrigan and I. Opposed to her usual trembling and shyness, she seemed very strong and sure. The previously angry mage woman now looked confused and cowed for having so nearly lost all her composure in the face of my scrutiny. She drew back her staff, leaning it against the cradle of her shoulder and crossing her arms over it.

"We must rest now," Letha stated. Seeming satisfied that the conflict was over she withdrew to her blankets while we watched, more than a little stunned. Within moments she was cocooned in her blankets and breathing evenly, overcome with slumber.

When we were again alone, save for the scouts who huddled around the fire, having wisely agreed amongst themselves to leave us to our quarrel, Morrigan gazed at me a long moment and stating, "I am content to be left alone." Her words betrayed none of the strain in her composure that had near broken shortly before.

Biting my tongue to prevent the words from tumbling past my lips as they sprang to mind, "You cannot keep lying to yourself." I nodded instead and returned to my kettle where it rested at the edge of the fire coals, remaining warm.

I silently mused to myself, "She is walking a perilous path if she considers denying her humanity while scrabbling to take hold of an old power she could not hope to understand."

Troubled, I allowed myself to partake of the tea that I had initially only intended for Letha to ensure her slumber. These times made taking up my mantle far more dangerous, but I was out of safe options. Too many depended on the outcome for me to quail now. I had to seek answers, regardless of the danger incurred.

Clutching my figure stone in my hand, I drifted to sleep, embraced by the soothing warmth of the tea as it seeped into my very bones.

I became aware of the Fade as it transfigured around me in a washed out, brown landscape. Opening my eye, I acclimated myself to the scenery. Seated on its haunches opposite me was the Wolf with his usual enigmatic expression, though his air was somewhat restless.

"I expected you to come long before this, Mountain Mother," he stated gravely, his usual riddling absent, erased I suspect by the gravity of the situation as it unfolded before us all.

"I do not walk lightly here, as you well know, Cunning One," I returned, "There is much evil abroad and it makes the borders thin. What stalks these climes has gained more potency as a result. Many mortals are trapped, unable to wake, and are easy prey here. The only way to ensure not being ensnared is to not walk where the traps lie."

"I am aware," he growled, sounding chagrined to be lectured so by me.

"Why would you tarry hereabouts, waiting for me?" I inquired.

"You anchored a man recently, giving him passage beyond the borders that would normally be impassable for mortals without magic. He was…unusual…ptarmigan-touched if you will."

"Ptarmigan-touched?" I questioned, intrigued by the phrase and wanting to know what it portended.

"You know the old tale as surely as I: how the Mountain Father banished his heart, how it was retrieved at the Lady of the Skies' bidding by the humble bird that could not sing nor fly, how it was returned to save all...the point is this: though he is small he is greater than he appears." The intensity of the words startled me almost as much as the fact that they were spoken by the Wolf who rarely exaggerated.

"Could it be possible?" I breathed.

The Wolf grinned toothily with that, "These are strange times. Such times I thought were long past, never to be seen again. Though it is troubling, it is also entertaining. I wish to have conference with this man again."

"What would you have with him? I will not hand him over to you to be abused by your whims," I answered sternly, "He has been under my protection and I am bound to his well being. I have yet to forget what you are, Fen'Harel."

"I have no desire to toy with him, I swear my intentions are benign," the Dalish Trickster reassured me, though I was not fully convinced, "My word has ensnared me and I find that I am out of my depth. Such a man could aid me and I could aid him."

"You are not one to make empty promises or to put yourself at a disadvantage. Who have you bound yourself to that you are suddenly ensnared? This seems quite unlikely."

The Wolf tensed at these words, lowering his head and looking at me cautiously, as if suddenly I had become the predator and he the prey. He proceeded after a moment's pause, "I was engaged by the Lady to safeguard your chick. I have…lost her to the Armored Man, enthralled by a Wastrel Spirit that grows more powerful. He has developed a concupiscence that borders on mania. His purpose I cannot comprehend or predict. She was addled by a spring that spewed from rock but was laced with that which is both benefit and bane."

"Lyrium," I nodded grimly, my throat tight at the though of Mae in peril, "The water from the ground has been tainted. How bad?"

"She took enough that it did not harm her life and she should recover her wits, but it was enough to put her at a disadvantage. She had escaped only to be recaptured by the Armored Man by way of the road. While I could shadow her initially, the Wastrel will not allow me to draw near. He holds sway over the Armored Man and she is at his mercy. I have not the power to engage the Wastrel unless his thrall is defeated, thereby starving the one that feasts on him. Even engaging the Armored Man in the waking world is tricky for me."

"Why? You possess the power to move at will from one side to the other as if you carry a private bridge with you. If the thrall is mortal and it benefits you to dispose of him to reach your quarry, then why not move directly?"

The Wolf grinned, "Normally you would not encourage me to plod upon your soil, Mountain Mother. You are cautious and believe in balance above all else. What has changed that you would counsel me so?"

I narrowed my eyes at the beast, "I would not have you walk needlessly in my mountains for fear you would cause mischief, as you are often wont to do. As you have identified, the chick is my heart, my life. My love is not temperate, I realize, and I would have her safety assured above all else I fear. You are dangerous, I realize, but you are reasonable. That which we deal with here is a danger unbounded and growing. The lesser evil is that you walk amid my home."

"The Morsel is truly dear to many," the Wolf chuckled, "and it makes me curious. What could I do with a woman like that?"

The instantaneous flash that resulted was like azure lightning, where once the Wolf stood, he sprawled on his back, retching and thrashing as if something held him by the throat. My eyes narrowed and I stood over him, my entire being crackling with power, "Never EVER speak the like again, even in jest! I will not stay my wroth if such words are spoken. She is not for you or the whim of any other unhallowed spirit. I have permitted much, but my patience as of late has been sore tested. As the Lady is my witness, there will be a reckoning if you overstep yourself again!"

The Wolf turned his eyes to me and wheezed, struggling to sound meek, if only that I would withdraw my grip and release him, "I fear I have taken your good nature for granted. Pardon, Mountain Mother, I spoke without the root of my sense. It will not occur again, I swear!"

The crushing power eased and the Wolf flopped again upon the ground, drawing gasping breaths before chuckling weakly, "At times I forget you are one of the few favored mortals without magic and yet you can hold sway over the Fade, calling upon it to do your bidding. Not even Flemeth, in all her power, can accomplish that. She tiptoes here and there where you could stride openly and make the landscape dance. You could rule here and be a sister to the Lady. She favors you still…"

"Just because one has the ability to do something does not mean that one should use it. My gifts are not taken for granted and I use them sparingly lest I forget myself and risk them poisoning me. I cling not to faith with the old gods, neither you nor the others. You exist in your turn, but we are all dust in comparison to the greatness of the Matter Speaker. We were all made, save One, and only to Him do I allow full sway and masterdom. I know my place; see that you do not forget yours!"

"Peace, you need not preach. It was merely an observation. Your mood is particularly foul this eve. Is it only the Chick that worries you or is there more on your shoulders?" he wheedled this, trying to ingratiate himself again.

"My Chick would be enough, but you are right. It is as if I carry the entirety of the Cauldron on my shoulders," I sighed, taking a seat on the ground, slumping slightly in my weariness, "Back to where we strayed in our speaking, what is your purpose with the man?"

"He can defeat the thrall, the Armored Man. I can provide him with the power that should help to tip the scales. In return, he would enable me to rid us of the troublesome Wastrel. Is that not fair?" the Wolf inquired, his muzzle curling into another smile.

I shook my head, "If I can judge his measure, he will aid my Chick without your power. If he is Ptarmigan-touched as you claim, he requires no aid from you and, furthermore, he would never accept it. Regardless of whether he will or he won't, I am unable to discern where he is for he was taken captive and is housed in places unknown."

The Wolf was chuffing in a breathy chuckle, "He is not far beyond your bound. Your ways are winding towards him. You will overtake him soon. Be not dismayed, Mountain Mother. If he is as you say, we may yet keep hope and I may yet meet my obligation to the Lady."

"There is another issue which I would discuss before I depart," I sighed, "There is one who seeks an item of power in these mountains. Know you of what she seeks?"

"There are many items of power known to me, some long forgotten to the recollections of all things mortal. What means this seeker with this supposed relic?" He drawled, crossing his forepaws congenially, cocking his head.

"It is my belief that she is being stalked and it is her hope to be able to defend herself from the threat the stalker poses, whether the danger is real or imagined…" I explained.

"Who is the stalker, then?" The Wolf prodded.

"Flemeth."

He shook his head, "Who is this seeker that she should find the means to fight when the wise would sooner fly? I fear not Flemeth, but she is formidable and rarely hunts that which she cannot catch. This seeker should either embrace her fate or seek shelter where Flemeth would refuse to tread."

These last words intrigued me, "Where would Flemeth refuse to tread?"

He smiled again, "That information comes with a price, Mountain Mother, not to mention that the compasses necessary to travel such ways are dear. Who is this seeker to you?"

"She is my mirror in younger days past, Fen'Harel. I owe her nothing, but I would wish for her to match my years," I whispered, suddenly feeling very old.

"Then make me an offer, Mountain Mother…"