A/N: I had a request to put up the chapter sooner rather than later and at first I wasn't going to do it, but then I figured I'd just do a double update because this chapter ends rather cliffhanger-y. This dire chapter now and then the more resolution-ish chapter tomorrow. Call it an Olympics celebration chapter. Or something. When I originally wrote this chapter it didn't have a Solas section in it. I decided I didn't want to go with that in uploading them here for chronology reasons so I had to insert a section from next chapter into this one. Anyway, on with the chapter.

Thank you again to everyone who reads and everyone who reviews!

Thirty-Seven

Promise You'll Save My Baby

Elven Used

Fen'Harel sul'ema mien'harel: the Dread Wolf brings the rebellion

A large villa just outside the city was afire, tongues of orange flame lighting up the night as they licked at the heavens. There were elves darting in and out of it, bodies strewn around the burning structure. As Cullen, Leliana, Cassandra, and Josephine drew nearer, leading the way on their mounts, one of the elves shouted at them. "Mien'harel! Our blades will taste your shemlen blood! We will end you!"

About fifteen elves emerged from the villa's yard, scrambling over the wall surrounding the property. In the flickering orange light from the fire, Ellana saw they'd ransacked the villa, dragging out valuables and laying them on the grass. The bodies were all richly dressed or wearing armor and their tall, thicker bodies revealed them as humans.

The sight made Ellana's stomach acids churn with nausea. This shouldn't have happened, she thought. This wasn't how it was supposed to be…

"For the Inquisition!" Cullen roared as he raised his sword high overhead and spurred his mount at the first elves.

"For the Maker!" Cassandra added, also charging ahead with her sword drawn.

Both of them rushed the elves, slashing, but the elves dodged with deft dexterity, rolling or leaping so that both Cassandra and Cullen's blades missed as their mounts rushed by. Rainier bellowed his own fury and ran forward into the fray, shield raised and sword flashing as it reflected the orange firelight. He caught one of the elves who'd rolled clear of Cassandra's horse and impacted the lithe man with his shield, knocking him prone.

Dorian and Morrigan threw barriers over as many of their group as they could. The Tevinter focused on Cassandra, Cullen, Leliana,

Varric, Leliana, and Sera began firing at the elves, pummeling them with arrows. One of the elves dropped, an arrow through his neck. He spluttered and choked as blood spurted out of him. He tried to rise twice and then fell, giving in to bleed out on the grass.

A rogue uncloaked beside Cassandra's horse, cutting with a savage slash of his dagger, severing the beast's hamstring. The horse screamed, tossing its head and jerking its hind leg as it stumbled, falling onto its side. Cassandra cried out, scrambling to try and escape from its back, but the horse's weight came down on her leg as it fell. The impact knocked her helmet off, sending it clattering as it rolled away over the cobblestone.

The sound of the Divine's alarmed yelling made Ellana's heart lurch in her chest, sick with dread. "Cassandra!"

Varric scuttled closer to the fighting, firing Bianca as he ran. The rogue elf took a bolt in his hip and then another in his knee. He fell beside the thrashing, bleeding horse and one of its hooves caught him in the head. The rogue went limp. Varric ran for Cassandra. "Hold on, Cass!"

Iron Bull made an unhappy noise in his throat as he kept Ellana in his arms, edging backward from the villa wall, turning his head to the left to scan the battle with his single good eye. Ellana gritted her teeth together, aware of her arrow quiver still on her back but remembering that she'd lost her bow in the winter palace's courtyard. "Let me down, Bull," she told him, tapping his arms and then his chest, squirming. "They need you and I can stand."

"I won't leave you unprotected," Iron Bull grumbled. "They've got this."

An archer leapt atop the villa wall nearby, drawing her bow and firing with a cry. The arrow whined as it cut through the air and then made a dull thwacking sound as it hit its target—Iron Bull's right shoulder. The massive warrior grunted at the impact and Ellana started, gaping and stammering, "Bull!"

Now he did let her down, but only to push her behind him as he reached for his great axe, glowering at the archer. "You're going to regret that."

The archer loosed another arrow but Iron Bull swung with his axe, knocking it away and roaring with a laugh. "Ha! Is that all you've got?" He charged for the wall and the archer lost her nerve, trying to scramble backward and out of reach of his swinging axe, but she wasn't fast enough. Iron Bull's axe caught her at the knees, severing them in a spray of gore. Her screams as she fell back into the villa's yard made Ellana grimace with sympathy even as she reminded herself that the archer would've killed them all without hesitation.

Ahead of them Rainier had moved to defend Cassandra and Varric as three elves closed in around them, like sharks smelling blood and anticipating a frenzy. Rainier cleaved one of the lithe figures from shoulder to navel, his blade making short work of their unprotected, unarmored bodies. Another he shield bashed, seeming to shrug off the dagger stab the last elf made at his side. He merely pivoted and slammed his armored elbow into the man's face, immediately making blood spurt and knocking the elf away.

"Shite elfy-elves," Sera shouted above the roar of the fire and the clash of steel against steel. "Eat my arrows!"

Cullen rode in and took off the head of the last elf still facing off with Rainier, then circled his horse around and leapt from it. He sliced the flailing, bleeding horse's neck with a quick flash of his blade. Blood spurted and the horse thrashed with even more desperation for a heartbeat before it weakened and went limp. Cullen hurried to help Varric free Cassandra. Once they'd gotten her out, Cullen took her arm and pushed her toward his own horse. "Hang back," he shouted to her. "You're too important to risk—"

"Not another word," Cassandra growled through a clenched jaw, teeth flashing through the dark and glinting orange in the firelight. She pulled her shield from her back and raised it, striding to stand with Rainier and calling to Varric over her shoulder, "Back us up, dwarf!"

"Yes, your holiness," Varric quipped at her. "And you're welcome!" Bianca clacked as Varric fired at another elven archer who'd just leapt onto the boundary wall surrounding the villa.

Breathing hard and with her eyes glued to the battle, Ellana almost missed the crunch of dirt nearby as Morrigan and her sentinels took up defensive positions around her. When she noticed them, Ellana scowled and jabbed a finger at the fighting. "What are you doing here by me? Can't you see they need your help?"

The sentinels—Zaron, Arina, and Darae—stared at her blankly, impassive and unreadable. Morrigan gestured, her hand gleaming blue as she cast a barrier over Iron Bull, who'd moved to engage another elf who'd tried to flank Cassandra, Rainier, Varric, and Cullen. "We are helping, Ellana," she said without looking at her. "We are protecting you."

Snarling with frustration at being virtually helpless, Ellana glared down at her left hand. It was still glowing, glittering green like an emerald catching the sunlight. She flexed her hand, seeing the seam along her palm. It burned, as if the marrow in the small bones of her palm had been set aflame. Grimacing, she felt the dried blood caked on her face from the fight in the palace's courtyard crack and scrubbed at her cheeks and forehead. Why hadn't she had the presence of mind to pick up her bow in the courtyard? She was defenseless now…

Except she wasn't.

The Anchor gleamed brighter as she looked at it again. Solas' voice echoed through her mind, warning her not to use it. Sucking in a breath, she asked, "Mythal can stabilize the mark without removing it?"

Morrigan twisted her head, frowning as she searched over Ellana's face. Then, as if losing interest, she turned away and cast more barriers over the fighters. "Mythal believes so, yes." She made a face, wrinkling her nose and wincing as if in pain before she added, "It...may be only temporarily stabilized..."

Of course, Ellana thought as she clenched her left hand again. The baby kicked inside her, as if expressing his opinion by reminding her that it wasn't merely her life at stake.

Cassandra, Rainier, and Cullen worked as a solid wall, cutting and then blocking with their shields. Every so often one of them lunged with a shield bash, smashing the nearest elf who'd drawn too close. Varric and Sera provided archer support, aiming for vulnerable necks, heads, and guts to stagger enemy archers and rogues. Leliana lingered back from the fighting on her mount beside Josephine, who wore no armor and carried no weapon. In the orange light of the fire Ellana saw the spymaster's lips drawn back in a snarl, the dark determination as she drew her bow and loosed her arrows stirred the awful memory of the Elder One's future in Redcliffe, making Ellana's heart ache with remembered loss.

The elven rebels lost their nerve as more and more of them fell to the combined assault. Finally, spitting curses at the mixed group, the elves broke off and ran toward the villa. Their thin, elegant forms stark against the raging inferno.

The warriors sheathed their swords and holstered their shields. Rainier and Sera moved over the bodies of the fallen elves, slitting throats to put survivors out of their misery. As always, they also searched quickly for valuable or useful items, just as they would have after a battle with the Inquisition.

Cassandra waved Cullen off when he again offered her his mount and instead strode toward Ellana. Varric trotted after her, his short legs pumping to keep up with her long-legged, elegant gait. One hand on her hip, she cocked a leg out as she frowned unhappily at Ellana. Firelight lit one half of her face in orange-yellow.

Ellana tensed as she saw Leliana spur her horse away from her protective position beside Josephine and into the road instead. In that spot she separated Rainier, Sera, and Dorian, who was with Iron Bull, attending to the arrow in the Tal-Vashoth warrior's shoulder. Cullen had remounted his horse and now stood in the road further down, a tense figure lit by the blazing fire in the villa. Both of her former advisors were in positions to either cut off retreat or block Ellana's more scattered companions from interfering if Cassandra ordered her arrest.

"Cassandra," Ellana called to her over the lump in her throat. "Are you all right?"

The warrior nodded somberly. "I am." She pointed to Ellana's left hand. "Are you?"

Forcing herself to smile, Ellana shook out her hand, willing the Anchor to calm. "It's nothing."

Cassandra huffed, clearly unconvinced; yet she let the topic slide. "The city is not safe, Ellana. Cullen, Leliana, Josephine and I will skirt around it and head for Val Royeaux." She paused, shifting her stance and shuffling her feet. "I'd very much prefer if you accompanied us. Everyone with you is welcome to journey with us."

Morrigan edged closer, as if planning to stand between Ellana and Cassandra. "This is exactly what I predicted, is it not? She intends to hold you captive against Fen'Harel."

Cassandra frowned with distaste. "I will not lie. You are a valuable player in this struggle. But you are also my friend, despite everything that has happened. I make this offer as much to ensure you are safeguarded as to gain a measure of protection against Solas and his forces."

"See?" Morrigan said with a snarl and a dismissive, angry gesture of one hand. "She even admits it."

Making a disgruntled noise in her throat, Cassandra ignored Morrigan's comment and kept her attention on Ellana. "You know I would never harm you, Ellana. I may disagree with Solas but—"

"Would you take my child away?" Ellana interrupted, her voice sharp.

Cassandra scowled, shaking her head with a baffled expression. "What? No, of course not."

Arching an eyebrow with disbelief, Ellana clarified her question. "You're saying even if my child is a mage you won't force him into a Circle?"

Now Cassandra grimaced as understanding dawned. "I see." She huffed, shoulders heaving. "If your little one remained as one of the Dalish there would be no need for a Circle."

"And if I do not rejoin the Dalish? My clan has too many mages already. Would you force my baby into a Circle, to be imprisoned the rest of his life?"

Cassandra's eyes darted away and the silent moment stretched. The answer was in the tight set of her features, the way her lips thinned into a hard, straight line. Cassandra might want to break rules for Ellana, but she would never actually do it. Ellana could see the future stretching out for her if she joined Cassandra and the Inquisition. She'd give birth and perhaps become Inquisitor again. Cassandra and the Inquisition would use her as leverage against Solas, pressuring her for whatever knowledge she carried of his powers, his plans, and his secrets. And as soon as her baby displayed a hint of magic, or possibly before considering who its father was, Templars would arrive and forcibly take her child away to a Circle. Would they even tell her which Circle? Would they ever allow her to see her child?

As awful as this bloody rebellion was, as many lives as it claimed—both human and elven—Ellana realized that she could overlook it, push it aside if it promised her child would be safe. The powerful swell of maternal instinct tightened inside her chest like a fist, making her core body weak while her limbs seemed to become weak and light. With a quavering breath, she gripped her belly with one hand and forced the feeling aside, trying to focus past it. She couldn't let her warring emotions blind her from the moral truth that Solas had miscalculated and committed a monstrous act that she refused to be part of. He'd chosen violence when they could have used their allies in the Inquisition to escape peacefully and without drawing the ire of the rest of Thedas.

The ends did not always justify the means. That was the kind of thinking that had made Solas give Corypheus his orb and had inadvertently led to the conclave explosion and the deaths of thousands. It was the kind of mistake that seemed to follow the Dread Wolf like his very shadow.

"Thank you for your generous offer, Divine Victoria," Ellana told Cassandra. "But I'm afraid I must decline."

Cassandra nodded, her eyes saddened even while her mouth held its hard, unyielding line. "Understood," she said. "Then I'm afraid this is farewell, my friend."

"Dareth shiral, falon," Ellana told her with a dip of her chin. "Go in peace and be safe."

"And you," Cassandra answered, brow furrowing with emotion. She gestured toward Ellana's pronounced belly. "I wish you well and good health for the coming birth. Maker watch over you."

The lump in Ellana's throat had returned, swelling painfully. "And you."

Cassandra turned away and walked to Leliana's mount. The spymaster scooted backward on the horse's back, then leaned downward and extended her hand to Cassandra. With a grunt the former Seeker took her place ahead of the spymaster and gripped the horse's reins tightly in her leather gloved hands. With a last nod at Ellana and then at Dorian, she jerked on the reins and directed the horse to leave the road. Cullen and Josephine both followed her, each slowing to nod at Ellana with respect.

"Wait," Varric shouted before Josephine's horse left the road. "Cassandra!" He scrambled to the edge of the road, waving one beefy arm.

Cassandra tugged on her horse's reins, pulling it up short. The horse stamped its feet and tossed its head, irritated at the abrupt stops. "Yes, Varric?" she asked, arching an eyebrow as she stared down at him. Leliana behind her wore a closed-lipped smirk.

Josephine and Cullen had both halted as well, watching with confusion or amusement as Varric clambered his way off the road and closer to the Divine's horse. "Let me come with you," he called to both women and then gestured toward Josephine. "You could use another bodyguard and I'm lightweight enough that Ruffles won't even notice if I share her horse."

Cassandra shot him an uneasy look before glancing over her shoulder at Leliana, as if she needed the spymaster's opinion or permission. Leliana gave a slight nod, her smile widening. With a sigh, Cassandra said, "If everyone is agreed, I welcome your help." She paused a moment and then added, slightly disgruntled, "Just don't complain the whole way if the ride is bumpy."

"Not a peep, Seeker, I promise." The dwarf trotted toward Josephine's mount and accepted the hand she offered to help swing him up onto the horse behind her. Then, from his spot there, he shot Ellana a sad smile. "I hope you can forgive me bowing out of your party before the end of the story, but…" His gaze flew to the horse carrying Cassandra and Leliana, who'd already started walking again.

"I understand and there's nothing to forgive," Ellana said and smiled. She'd read enough of Varric's books to sense the lingering…something…the dwarf felt for Cassandra. And she, likely, felt for him, too, though she'd never admit it or never act on it as Divine. Most of his romances involved couples that started out loathing each other and then wound up falling in love, after all. Ellana wasn't a writer herself, but she knew art frequently imitated reality.

"You still have to write to me when the kid's born. I have a lot of coin riding on it being a boy, you know." He flashed a grin as Josephine dug her heels into the horse's flank, following Cullen as he left the road. "Take care of yourself, Lavender!"

She watched the three horses heading off, cutting a wide circle around the city's edges and picking up speed over the grassy hills. As the wind shifted it brought the scalding heat of the flames from the fiery villa against Ellana's back and she shuddered, coughing as the smoke stung her eyes and throat. She felt exhausted, hollowed out and weak, her throat tight with emotion at the farewells and her own self-doubts.

But then thumping footsteps drew her gaze up and she saw Rainier clomping toward her, his armor clanking. He held out a bow when he reached her. "One of the elven archers had this," he explained and shrugged. "Seemed a waste to leave it with the dead."

She took the bow from him with a tentative smile. "Thank you, Thom."

"How far into the city is this place we're going?" Iron Bull asked, flexing his arm as Dorian finished applying healing magic and cleaning the wound as best he could.

"`Tis a few miles yet," Morrigan answered. "I will lead the way." She stepped forward, her crinoline bustle ridiculous in their current setting far outside the palace and with the carnage of the rebellion all around them. The fine fabric was stained with blood and frayed.

Iron Bull made mock swinging motions with both arms, wincing slightly as he strained the wound. Seeing it, Dorian edged forward to give him another dose of healing magic but Iron Bull stopped him with a hard pat to the back. "Not bad, for a Vint."

Dorian scoffed. "A backhanded compliment. How I adore you and your brutish charms." Looking to Ellana he said, "Can we get going, old girl? My hair's going to smell like smoke for a week if we don't leave soon."

"I like that smell," Iron Bull quipped. Then, growing serious as Dorian scowled at him with distaste, Iron Bull spoke to Ellana again. "Not sure I can carry you very well anymore, Boss. I will if I have to though. But, you should know, I'm going to need to leave like Varric once we get wherever it is we're going. The Chargers were in Halamshiral. I need to find my men."

Ellana nodded at him. "Don't worry about me, Bull. I can walk." At his doubtful stare she squared her shoulders and walked at as fast a pace as she could manage. The sentinels moved after her, shadowing her the way Solas would if he were there with her.

Rainier fell into step beside her and spoke quietly, "I don't trust the witch."

"Welcome to the club," Ellana said with a tight laugh. "I don't either. But she was my only way to get away from Solas."

"He locked you up?" Rainier asked, anger roughening his words.

"Not…exactly. He put a sleep spell on me and left me under guard." She grimaced, hearing how much it did sound like that.

Rainier's lips twisted downward under the thick carpet of his beard. "He locked you up."

"We disagreed rather vehemently," Ellana mumbled, averting her eyes to stare at the distant burning structures of the villa. Embers floated on the air, like specks of orange stars or distant lanterns floating into the sky. It would have been beautiful if she didn't pause to think about how some noble family had been slaughtered.

"And now you're doing the only thing you can to stop him," Rainier observed. He nudged her left arm, indicating the Anchor. "Admirable, as always, my lady."

Ellana sighed. "Not really, Thom." She hung her head, blinking and gnashing her teeth as she tried to bite back tears. "Without the Anchor Solas won't be able to hold Halamshiral against the rest of Thedas. He'll either have to retreat and render all this—" She gestured jerkily at the burning villa and the smoking city ahead with her right hand. "—a huge pointless waste, or he'll wage a war he can't win that will kill thousands of my people."

"Your people?" Rainier asked, confusion thickening his voice. "I thought—"

"Solas is Elvhen, an ancient elf," she explained. "You wouldn't see a distinction, but he does." She frowned as they walked, feeling a heat burning on her cheeks that had nothing to do with the hot wind from the fires off to their right along the road. "Most Elvhen see modern elves as inferior."

"And everyone else, naturally," Dorian put in, edging forward to take a position on Ellana's right. "Most of them are broody and just as pretentious as Solas, too. I rather think the modern elves are a vast improvement. And, as we're all well aware, I have impeccable taste, so of course I'm right."

When Ellana only shot him a withering look Dorian's shoulders fell. "Cheer up, darling. I'm here and unlike the dwarf and that hulking horned beast behind us—" Iron Bull let out a loud snort at that. "—I'm not about to abandon you. After we're done with whatever Morrigan has planned to stabilize your Anchor, might I suggest we head toward Tevinter?"

"Tevinter?" Ellana repeated, gawking.

"That sounds like a bloody terrible idea, Dorian," Rainier grumbled, idly stroking his beard and picking out a fleck of ash that'd gotten caught in it.

"Just consider it for a moment," Dorian insisted, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I'm a Magister and I'm on my way home. And with me I have my two elven servants and my bodyguard."

"Sera's coming with us?" Rainier asked incredulously. All three of them looked toward the elven archer walking up ahead, seemingly paying them no mind.

Dorian shrugged, unbothered by Rainier's doubt. "If she isn't then I'll simply have one elven servant." He clucked his tongue, shooting Ellana a mischievous look. "And what a troublemaker she is, running off to have some kind of torrid love affair with that devastatingly handsome Inquisition commander." He shook his head with feigned shock. "I simply can't take her anywhere!"

Ellana tried to muster up a laugh but couldn't. Staring ahead, she clutched the bow Rainier had given her tighter, trying to ignore the ache in her back and the lingering discomfort of the false labor pangs as they passed beneath the enormous gilded gates of Halamshiral—and found chaos.

Over the course of a half-hour, Solas had checked the winter palace's storage room with the eluvian that Zevanni had used and, finding it dark and with no trace of the Anchor's magic lingering, he moved onto the other mirrors in different rooms. All three other mirrors were dark as well, cold when he probed them with his magical senses. They hadn't been used recently. Even if he'd been Tranquil, Solas could've guessed that from the fine layer of dust over the glass that came away when he touched the surfaces.

"She didn't come this way," Mathrel observed behind him in the darkness of the storage room. Crates littered the space, some with cobwebs woven into the corners where spiders had made their homes unbothered for years. Moonlight streamed in through the ornate, gold-tinted windows along one side of the room.

"I can see that," Solas muttered, his thoughts spinning out in every direction as horror slowly turned the pit of his stomach into a block of ice. What had he missed? Where could she have gone?

He'd received word from an elven runner he'd encountered in the hallway earlier as he made his way to the storage wing that Zevanni had taken Celene and Briala captive, alive and unharmed as he'd stipulated. He'd asked the runner if Ellana had been there with the Marquise and the empress, but he'd seemed baffled at the question and that was answer enough. They would be waiting on him to confront both rulers along with Divine Victoria. He felt the tug of that responsibility like a collar at his neck, cutting off his breath as he fought against its grip while trying to find Ellana.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this, the panicky voice in the back of his mind kept repeating. Ellana was supposed to be safe. That was why he'd done this—to end the constant threat of assassination and further their goal of reclaiming and restoring the Dales as an elven homeland. That was why he'd done this, right?

His stomach lurched inside him as he realized he wasn't sure anymore. Had it really just been as simple as that he saw the promise of easy power through chaos and hadn't been able to resist? Had he let the outrage and frustration he felt at being so visible to the humans, with a huge target painted on both of their backs, fuel him into a bloodthirsty rebellion? Was this rebellion a form of vengeance to soothe his wounded ego?

No, he thought and snarled to himself, whipping around and stomping for the door and the hallway beyond it. Distantly, shouts and the roar of fire echoed, making Solas' heart pound. Ellana had to be somewhere in this mess and now the palace was burning.

He couldn't ignore his rebellion or leave it to run its course entirely undirected. If he did the palace would likely burn to the ground and as much as he found it to be a gaudy, vulgar display of Orlais' ridiculous opulence and pretentiousness, it'd still be a shameful waste if it wound up as rubble by the following morning.

"We must organize a force to put out the fires," Solas commented and, after pausing a moment to pinpoint the source of the nearest battle sounds, began to trot that way. He quashed the trembling, impulsive thought that hit him from that ice pit in his stomach: Ellana's going to die. Just like Mother and Father. Just like Mythal.

No, he would find Ellana somewhere in the palace, trying to make her way to the empress or to Cassandra.

He stopped mid-step, eyes widening suddenly. Cassandra.

The scene in the courtyard earlier replayed through his mind: the four horses and their riders, all three Inquisition advisors and then the woman in Inquisition armor, the shield on her back…Why would Templars and Inquisition soldiers send that single guard woman with Josephine, Cullen, and Leliana?

But he already knew.

"Fenedhis," he growled, covering his face with shaking hands. "I'm such a fool."

"Fen'Harel?" Mathrel asked behind him a note of alarm coloring his voice.

Remembering the fires, Solas pivoted to the arcane warrior and said, "Put together a group to douse the flames set by the conflict."

"Where are you going?" Mathrel asked, eyes narrowing.

"There is something I must check," Solas replied, already charging back the way they had come. He needed to find Zevanni or—Var. He recalled the rogue had been in the fight with the Templars and Inquisition soldiers in the courtyard and he'd called out to him. But Solas had ignored him...

"What's wrong?" Mathrel asked, his feet thumping over the polished marble in the hallway as he made to follow Solas.

Whipping around, nostrils flaring and body aflame with the heat of impotent, frustrated rage, Solas snapped, "Do as I say. Attend to the fires. I do not require your help."

Mathrel flinched back from the ferocity in Solas' voice and expression, but recovered quickly, going stoic again. "Yes, hahren. It will be as you say." Turning on his heel, he trotted away down the hall.

Solas resumed his fevered pace for a few moments before pausing to reach for his mana core, preparing to teleport into the courtyard to pick up the trail from there. There was no time to waste. Ellana had probably sought out the Divine, perhaps to turn herself over to the Chantry and the Inquisition. Had she been caught up in the fighting? Or had she helped the Divine escape? Had she met up with them outside the palace? Was she dead? Had she completely betrayed him, ignoring the danger to herself and their child to let them use her as a hostage against him?

The wild swirl and press of his emotions made his will murky, scattering his intention and manifesting the mana he drew from his core as fire. One moment he'd braced for teleportation, and the next his ears were ringing and the windows in the hallway around him had shattered, spraying glass over him. Scorch marks surrounded him and the drapes were burning.

Stop, he commanded himself, breathing deeply several times before he summoned a blizzard spell. His breath fogged around his mouth with each exhalation and the air turned white, snow raining out of it. The fires smoked and shrank, sputtering until they went out entirely. Solas didn't feel the cold, only the rage still scalding his blood from within.

Focus, he ordered and cast veilfire, idly playing with it even as he glowered down at the floor, unseeing. The green flames wove and curled over and around his fingers. Concentrating on that delicate task gradually brought his rage under control and finally, at long last, he reached for his core again and this time the magic worked flawlessly.

He disappeared in a flicker of purple-black spirit flames.

Halamshiral had once been a gleaming place, brimming with beauty from both Orlesian excess and the natural glamor that the elves had imparted on it when it was their capital city. Ellana had ridden through it several times during the day, over the main thoroughfare that cut through the city and to the winter palace beyond. In those instances the city had been blocked off to allow her retinue—both Inquisition and elven later—safe passage without interference from the populace. Now there was no authority, Orlesians or Inquisition or otherwise, and the city populous had erupted into pandemonium.

Fires blazed in every other building, or over whole blocks, consuming the structures down to ashes. Figures darted about, furtive and quick. Most of them were elven, ransacking stores and noblemen's homes. Morrigan led them down curving side streets, lined by fire and death. They passed signs of conflict, casual horrors that'd happened only minutes or hours previously—a human woman's corpse stripped naked and hung from a lamppost, children dead in the street with their eyes staring and their throats slit, and severed limbs left laying in a cart as if someone had been collecting them.

Ellana worried that the nobleman's house Morrigan was leading them toward would have burned to the ground by now, but as they rounded a sharp bend the witch pointed to the far end of the block at an untouched house. "There it is," she announced. "I placed wards against fire just a few days ago. `Tis most fortunate I remembered to do so."

"Bout time," Sera complained. "So tired of all this frigging mess."

Ellana had to agree with her, but inwardly. Her head was pounding from the stink of smoke. Her throat burned and her lungs felt raw. "Let's hurry," she said. "Before we—"

"Look out!" Rainier shouted and thrust his shield up in front of Iron Bull's head just in time to stop the incoming arrow from hitting him. It bounced off with a dull thwack and immediately the mages threw barriers up over them all with a slick click-pop and the tingle of magic.

Shapes poured out from both sides of the street, leaping over property boundary walls that separated the yards of these houses. Ellana's eyes flicked all around them, sensing the movement and feeling dizzy as she lost count of how many elves there were. Cold dread opened up in the pit of her stomach as she realized they were outnumbered. More arrows flew at them, but the blue magic of the barriers repelled them, yet already the first rogues and warriors were charging toward them, ready to cut them down.

Ellana raised her bow, nocked her first arrow, and fired into the smoky haze at the nearest approaching elven figure. Sera let out a shout and did the same. Rainier combat rolled forward, crashing into a warrior's legs and knocking him over. Popping upright with surprising dexterity and nimbleness, Rainier stabbed down into the elf warrior's chest. Two more elves were already closing in on him though and dozens more were still converging on their group.

"Mien'harel! Mien'harel!" they shouted, mad with bloodlust and carnage fueled by lifetimes of oppression. Whether they noticed that most of this group was actually elven, Ellana didn't know. Perhaps they only noticed Morrigan's fancy bustle and Ellana's fur-lined and fashionable coat. The sentinel elves might look like hired sell-swords to them, and they were slightly thicker built as Elvhen warriors.

Still firing, Ellana tried to shout to them, to make them see reason. "We're not nobles! Please, stop this!"

Iron Bull roared, rushing at the nearest three elven attackers, spinning in a circle and hewing them down with his axe. But he only managed to hit one of the elves. The other two rolled away, dodging. One darted in close with his blade, stabbing into Iron Bull's side.

Grunting, Iron Bull whipped in the direction of that rogue and elbowed him in the face. The elf fell prone, his face a bloody mess from the single blow. Iron Bull slammed his great axe down on the rogue's chest for good measure. It all happened close enough to Ellana that bits of the gore splattered her coat and she somehow managed to smell the iron tang of blood beneath the acrid stink of the burning air.

Dorian hurled a fireball at Iron Bull's other flank, lighting up the other rogue stalking in close to him. As the rogue dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to put out the fire, Dorian made a fist and twirled his staff, casting chain lightning and winter's grasp back to back, killing the elf. He sprang to Iron Bull, hurrying to heal him.

Ellana kept firing, panicked and with her heart drumming in her ears, as loud as any of the roaring fires burning in the city. There's too many of them, she thought. They'd be overrun soon.

A familiar female voice cried out with pain and Ellana whipped her head in time to see a warrior had managed to get in close to Darae. He'd rammed his sword through a gap in her armor, piercing her all the way through. Blood splattered like rain on the cobblestones and Morrigan shouted, "No!"

Ellana fired at the attacker, catching him in the neck. He choked, gasping and clawing at the arrow as his strength failed him. He and Darae both collapsed, limbs entwined like lovers. Zaron rushed to kneel at Darae's side, shouting her name. His palms glowed blue with healing magic—but two more elves, both rogues, lunged for him, blades slashing.

With a roar, Rainier slammed into them both, barreling over them. Hacking with his sword, he severed one elf's arm and stabbed the other through the chest.

"Running out of arrows," Sera shouted, her voice shrill with fear. "Fuck! Not s'post to go like this! Gutted by droopy ear's shite friends."

Gritting her teeth, Ellana yelled at the top of her lungs, hoping to give their attackers pause. "Fen'Harel enansal! Mythal'enaste! Fen'Harel sul'ema mien'harel!"

She saw one of the closer attackers, a female warrior, pause as she peered at Ellana over her raised shield and sword. But a second later Dorian lobbed a chunk of ice at her and she cried out, turning the shield to deflect it just in time. Then she lunged for the Tevinter mage, murder in her face and body language.

With the lump in her throat swelling even tighter, Ellana nocked her arrow and fired at the warrior, catching her in the neck just as she had the other elf earlier. When she reached back to her quiver for another arrow she felt only a few more of them remaining and her stomach seemed to drop to the cobblestones underfoot. We're going to die here, less than a block from the eluvian…

Solas had said the truest story he knew of Fen'Harel was that the Dread Wolf brought death to those closest to him. Now it seemed his words held the power of self-prophecy. His rebellion in Elvhenan against Elgar'nan had inadvertently killed his parents and destroyed his village. Now his impromptu revolution in the winter palace and Halamshiral would kill her and his unborn child. The sick humor of it made Ellana laugh until she was gasping, sobbing through blurry tears as she struggled to aim and fire.

And then she noticed the green glow on her palm.

Tossing down the bow, Ellana reached within herself for the Anchor and felt the dull ache intensify as it stirred. The crackling noise it made as it flared in her palm was lost to the sound of fighting and the fires burning around them, broiling the very air. With a cry of pain, Ellana discharged the Anchor, gritting her teeth against the pain as light exploded from it and some of the magic spread up and over. Through the thick, smoky scene the Anchor gleamed like a precious jewel with the light of the Fade, illuminating the tiny flecks of ash and debris in the haze.

"Brace yourselves," she shouted at the others as she rushed forward, her quiver thumping against her back. She saw Morrigan gawking at her for a heartbeat before she cast a barrier over Ellana, Arina, Zaron, and Rainier.

"Ellana," Morrigan yelled. "What are you doing?"

"Saving our asses," Ellana called back to her. She left the protective huddle of their group and the nearby elven attackers quickly moved to cut her down. Ellana tensed as a rogue's blade thumped into her shoulder, but the magic of the Anchor discharge made her invulnerable. The blade bent and shattered, destroyed by the magic rather than penetrate her flesh. A warrior swung at her head, but Ellana ducked, weaving around him.

Breathing hard, she saw there were at least eight elven attackers close by—that'd have to be enough. She only had a few more heartbeats before the invulnerability of the Anchor discharge wore off. An arrow came flying in and struck her belly, making her hiss at the impact, but it bounced off, crumbling into ash. Another one streaked by her head, narrowly missing.

Steeling herself, planting her feet flat on the stone, Ellana thrust her hand up, willing the burning, stinging magic of the Anchor to bend to her will. It sizzled, crackling as it intensified, responding to her with the ardor of a lover—of the Dread Wolf himself, rousing to defend her from death. As the power spread, burning in her marrow, creeping up her forearm to the elbow, Ellana realized with a stab of cold terror that the Mark of the Rift she'd been trying to summon wouldn't come.

Something else, wild and uncontrolled, was stirring in the Anchor instead.

Gasping, she watched with horror as the Anchor's green light expanded over her arm, glimmering, and with lightning-like tendrils licking through the air. The tingling over her face as it touched her made her skin dimple with gooseflesh. The attackers around her had halted, eyes wide and mouths agape with shock. She felt the magic swelling, the pain growing white hot until she screamed with it, tossing her head back, all coherent thought obliterated.

With an almost metallic bang-whump, the green light burst out from the Anchor, sizzling like meat on a grill as it expanded in a circle. The touch of it whipped over her skin and pierced her, setting every nerve afire with both burning and—pleasure. It was the same enjoyable sensation she'd gotten a taste of when she'd been able to cast magic herself and when she'd touched the Fade. Every muscle, bone, sinew, and organ twitched and sang with bliss intermixed with agony.

The force of the explosion threw Ellana backward, her feet skidding over the cobblestones. She stumbled forward, catching herself with her right hand. Panting and sweating, trembling body wide, she raised her head and saw the carnage she'd wrought. Charred elves lay around where she'd stood, a few bits of ragged flesh here and there. Nothing but bleeding limbs and ash lay closest to the spot where she'd unleashed the blast. The air around her was clearer, with the smoke forced away.

Her companions were still cringing, but miraculously appeared unharmed, though Darae was still prone, possibly dead. Ellana's head spun, her heart pounding. She staggered as she tried to stand up. She kept her left hand held out awkwardly from her body, as if touching herself would leave a burn. The Anchor still glowed in a faint seam along her palm; the ache remained as well.

Worst of all, Ellana could feel the magic tendrils of the Anchor twining up her arm, even if it showed no sign of it when she looked to it. Solas had been right that he'd need to take her entire forearm. Ellana had never realized before that the Anchor had bonded to her beyond her hand, but clearly it had.

Footsteps thumped over the ground and a moment later Ellana felt strong male hands under her armpits, hauling her upright. She raised her head to see Iron Bull and Dorian. Their mouths moved but the words were dim. Her ears were ringing from the explosion. She tried to concentrate on their lips to understand them.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked, laying as hand to her cheek.

She huffed, out of breath despite doing so little. "I think so."

"What was that, Boss?" Iron Bull asked.

She let out a weak chuckle. "It was supposed to be Mark of the Rift…"

"`Twas a blast," Morrigan said, drawing both men's stares as she pressed forward, reaching for Ellana, her expression grim. "Mythal's knowledge tells me that such a tool was only ever meant for Fen'Harel. Only an Evanuris can control and channel the Anchor's energy. The power of it will destroy you."

With her head still spinning, Ellana groaned. "Tell me something I don't know, Morrigan." She sagged against Iron Bull's grip on her shoulders. "Did it work at least? Are we safe?"

"The elves ran off," Dorian confirmed. "We appear to be safe for the moment."

"I think you'll have to carry me again," Ellana murmured, her eyelids drifting closed. "I'm just so…exhausted."

Dorian tapped her cheek. "Stay awake, love. Be strong. We're almost there."

She swallowed, nodding. As Iron Bull shifted, stooping slightly to grab her legs, Ellana reached out and grabbed Dorian's overcoat, ignoring the bloodstains and charring on it. The action stopped Iron Bull as he frowned with puzzlement. Pressing close to Dorian, she forced herself not to choke as she said, "If it looks like the Anchor is going to kill me, I need you or one of the others to cut off my arm at the elbow."

He gawped at her, horror widening his eyes. "Ellana—you cannot be serious."

"She is," Morrigan said, gravely. "The blast could kill all of us as it consumes her."

"What a simply lovely thought,"Dorian snarled, glaring at the witch. "How good of you to consider the danger to us rather than—"

"And if you can't save me, or if you even think you can't save me," Ellana went on, licking her dry, chapped lips. "Promise me you'll save my baby."

"Ellana," Dorian rasped, halfway raising his hands palms up as if to ward her off. "Don't—"

"I don't care what it takes," Ellana interrupted him, making a fist as she gripped his collar and gave him a little shake. "Don't let him die with me. Cut him out of me, give him a chance. And…" she let out a breathy, tearless sob. "Take my baby to Solas."

"Vishante kaffas," Dorian growled, gripping her shoulders and squeezing. "Stop this insane babble. You're going to be fine."

"I agree with the Tevinter," Morrigan said then, interjecting. "You will be fine, as long as we hurry." She tapped Ellana's left hand. "The Anchor is building strength even outside of battle. We must leave before you must discharge it again with another blast."

Clenching her jaw, Ellana refused to release Dorian. "Promise me," she hissed. "Promise me if it comes to it, you'll save my baby and take him to Solas."

Dorian laid his hand over hers. The sweaty palm was hot and clammy. "I promise," he said staring at her without blinking. "But I will also promise it won't come to that."

She released him, shoulders slumping. "Thank you." Lurching toward Iron Bull, she let him take her up in his arms. Head lolling against his chest, Ellana lapsed in and out of blackness, only vaguely aware of the stink of smoke in each breath and the clatter of her companions' armor as they ran down the block to the house where Morrigan claimed an eluvian awaited them.

When she opened her eyes after drifting off for a few moments and saw the darkened interior of a rich, but relatively small Orlesian home, Ellana felt cool relief sweep through her and sighed. But then she felt Iron Bull stop suddenly, his body tensing. He sniffed loudly several times and then asked, "I thought you said this place was empty?"

Up ahead Morrigan twisted around, her eyes glinting in the dull orange light streaming in through the nearest window from fires burning outside. "`Tis empty, yes. The noblemen and his family are in Val Royeaux at this time of year."

"Then why do I smell someone who isn't us?" he asked, lowering his voice until it was little more than a deep rumble. He sniffed again, inhaling long and deep. "Elf. Male."

Morrigan arched a brow and then cursed under her breath. Whipping around on her heel, stalking further down the corridor. Her feet were nearly silent over the lush blue carpet underfoot. Her hands were up above her waist, ready to cast. Arina and Zaron flanked her, one held daggers at the ready while the other moved with a stance like Morrigan's, ready to unleash magic. Rainier pressed forward around Iron Bull, armor clanking slightly, his sword and shield at the ready.

"Oh, what a pleasant and so unexpected surprise," Dorian grumbled beside Iron Bull. "Of course we're not alone."

"And Lana exploded most of my arrows," Sera lamented, feeling over her shoulder with one hand to check on the number of arrows in her quiver.

"Ir abelas," Ellana apologized groggily.

"Ugh," Sera grumbled, snarling at the elven language. "Enough of that piss, yeah? You loving elfy-elf droopy ears even though he's some sorta demon is what got us in this mess."

Dorian hissed at her. "Another vitriolic outburst from you like that blaming Ellana and I swear by the Maker and all that is holy I will make you wet yourself with one of my Horror spells. Am I quite clear?"

Sera cocked her head to one side, frowning. "Viddy-o-lick?" She giggled, wrinkling her nose. "You're funny, Door. Making up words, yeah. Videolick."

Iron Bull grunted. "C'mon you two." He shifted Ellana in his arms, jostling her into groaning, struggling to open her eyes and lift her head as the warrior started forward after Morrigan, Rainier, and the sentinels.

They passed down the hallway and several rooms—a study, a bedroom, and a storage space. There was no sign of the house being occupied and no one rushed out to attack them. Eventually Morrigan entered an enormous bedroom decorated in gold and blue, with a huge four-post bed and dressers lining the walls. Ellana watched bleary-eyed as Morrigan stopped in front of the closed walk-in closet. In the darkness of the room with only the faint glare of the fires burning outside, the witch's expression was unclear.

Finally she thrust her arms out, motioning at the closet doors without touching them. Ellana felt the breeze waft at her and the tickle of magic over her skin. The Anchor burned a little more in response. Great, she thought. Now it reacted to Morrigan's magic too.

The closet doors opened with a clatter and Morrigan froze, staring into it. Green light spilled out into the bedroom from the closet, illuminating the unreadable, tense expression over her features. Then, slowly, she smiled humorlessly. "Abelas. How good to see you again."

Next Chapter:

Drawing in a breath, Abelas squared his shoulders, staring down Morrigan with narrowed eyes. "Tell Ellana the truth. You cannot deceive her any longer."

Morrigan edged closer, her face a mask of rage. "Traitor," she spat. "You would let her suffer and die over trivial details that—"

"She should be the one to judge whether they are trivial concerns," Abelas interrupted her, cold and somber. "This trap is beneath you, Mythal."