It took us three days and three nights, with very little rest, to reach the exalted plains. I would have been awe struck by the place if I hadn't been so exhausted. It was very beautiful, sublime even, with it's sweeping mountains bordering it and its beautiful rivers and waterfalls. It was only ruined by the permanent smell of battle and decay. The flat lands were charred and burned and any trees that might have grown here were nothing but black and burning bones that stuck out like jagged fingers from the earth. Dust and smoke blew on the wind and I couldn't help but feel anguished at how much this once beautiful land had endured. Above it all sat a statue of the dread wolf, proudly looking out over the chaos, almost glad at what he had wrought for his people. Harellan, traitor. My mind wondered back to the dream I had and the fondness with which my grandmother addressed the infamous Fen'harel. Had she known him before he betrayed us all? Had I? I shuddered and turned my eyes away from the statue. We had made good head way that day and were coming up to the crossing to the old fortress.
"Make camp here for the night." I called to the other scouts, they looked around the relatively enclosed space and set down their packs. The sun was going down and in my mind, travelling in such a treacherous place at night was less than smart. Aside from the Freemen of the Dales we had encountered on our travels, we had also come across demons, the un-dead and also two ambushes by bandits. All of which we dispatched with ease. The Inquisition spies had always been good, but practice seemed to make perfect. They truly were deadly. It wasn't long before we had a fire going and stew in the pot. I wasn't hungry however, I couldn't eat, Something about this place felt so off. It turned my stomach and unsettled my mind.
"I'm going to check the perimeters again." I said, standing up and handing my unfinished stew to Raphael, who sat beside me.
"You have barely touched your food, Lavellan. This is my mothers own recipe!" He said indignantly.
"It's lovely, trust me, but I have no appetite."
He shrugged and ate away at my bowl, mumbling something in Orlesian as he did.
"That's the third time tonight you've checked the perimeters. If you need the privy just say so, no need to be embarrassed." Grant said smartly. It was nice to be working with him again. I hadn't gotten to do that since Redcliff. I liked Grant.
I made a face at him, "I just like to be sure we're not in the way of any imposing ambushes, you know, we are in the middle of a battlefield."
He shrugged and said nothing more. All in all there were seven of us travelling to the old Fortress. Myself, Grant; Raphael the son of a farmer from Orlais; Melissa, she came from Kirkwall after the Chantry explosion; Triona, she was from Lothering I think, apparently she knew Hawke when they were kids; Marianne, she was from Orlais too. She'd trained to be a bard but left the game and came to fight for the Inquisition; and finally there was Maharen, he was an elf, a city elf or so I presumed because he bore no vallaslin. He didn't speak much and something told me he wasn't very fond of me. He kept glancing at me with suspicion. It was slightly unnerving.
"Just make sure you do you business away from the camp and not near any water supplies!" Grant called after me, much to the amusement of the others. I rolled my eyes and walked on away from the light of the camp fire and out into the dark expanse of the plains. It was endlessly eerie, but I thought that perhaps the adrenaline might clear my head. So I walked further out this time, climbed over a couple of boulders and came upon the river bank. The moon shone down on it peacefully but once again the shadow of the Dreadwolf cast an unwelcome darkness. I looked up and the huge figure silhouetted by the moon and shivered.
"He wasn't so bad as your stories would have you believe." The voice startled me as I didn't expect to hear it in the waking world. I turned to my left and there stood Mythal, almost imperceptible but there. She stood like a ghost on the waters edge, looking forlornly up to the statue.
"So I've advanced to full blown hallucinations. Good to know." I whispered.
She chuckled, and her ethereal figure turned to me. "Perhaps it is this place. The veil is very weak here. These plains have ancient memories, stories beyond count. It draws spirits as it allows me to stand before you."
I arched my brow and shook my head, "You sound just like Solas."
She said nothing, only looked back to the statue. "He tried his best. But even the best laid plans can come to foul fruition. He was a dear friend."
I frowned at her that last part was said far too wistfully, "A friend? Or a friend?" I jibed.
She turned sharply to me, "Oh he was far too young for me, dhalen. He was handsome, I will admit."
I laughed quietly, giggled really, but then it settled into silence and the earth stilled, as though no battles had ever been fought here. "Everything I ever learned about my past. About the Gods and Arlathan... It all seems to be crumbling."
"Or are your memories rebuilding? There are two ways to look at all things Nevalla, happiness depends on what way you pick." she sighed, placing a ghost like hand on my shoulder. We sat in silence for a moment more before it grew too heavy.
"So what was he like then? The big bad wolf?" I asked, settling myself on a tree stump. Mythal sighed and thought for a moment.
"He was quite funny. Endlessly clever, it made him quite arrogant. He loved the libraries. He would pour over texts for hours. And he had a fondness for the spirits. Above all he was proud, and his pride came before the fall." she sighed.
"Did I know him?" I asked, unsure if I wanted to hear the answer.
"No, no, you were kept hidden, even from him. I could risk no one discovering you again. You were the key to peace..." She trailed off and shook her head, "No more talk of the past, you will remember eventually."
I scoffed, "I can't believe you think that Fen'harel was handsome."
For a moment her fine features became clearer and I saw a smirk on her face, "I was not the only one to think so. You took a fancy to him when you spotted him one evening from afar. You made me promise that I'd introduce him to you." The clarity of her face shifted again, as though she turned back to the statue again. "Here, my promise is kept. Fen'harel..." She chuckled, "Such a ghastly name, allow me to introduce my granddaughter, Nevalla, daughter of Mythrella.
I laughed out loud and shook my head, "I refuse to believe that!"
She chuckled in return but again she fell solemn, her figure becoming ever more transparent. "He was good at heart... and he tried to watch out for the people. I believe he still does."
I looked around the desolate land behind me. Dirthavaren, The Promise, we had called it. A promise of our own land stripped away once again by the humans. "He's doing a sterling job, I must say." My sarcasm fell flat.
"He's more attentive than you think." was the last think she said, before her pale figure disappeared on the breeze. Once again the plains fell silent, nothing but the breeze and quiet rush of water filled my ears. As I stood, however, I began to hear another sound. It whispered just behind the water, but it was a different sort of rush. The rush of heavy paws across dry grass. I turned immediately, fear lurching up my spine as I looked around for the source. There was no mistaking the sound and soon enough they revealed themselves, glowing green eyes fixed on me. Wolves. Instinctively, I backed away, but the memory of their attack on me still lingered and though I was right to be frightened, I was almost terrified beyond reason. I took another step back from them, my foot sloshing down into the flowing water of the river. But the wolves did not advance. They stood where they watched me and sniffed the air. Creators, they looked almost just like big dogs. Slowly, ever so slowly, I took a step towards them but as I did, they yelped and ran away. They had not come to hunt me, merely watch... I slouched over in relief, felt my breath shake after letting out a long sigh to try and steady my heart. It was the strangest encounter I had ever had with a pack of wolves. There was nothing vicious about their demeanour, just curious. Then I remembered the large wolfish shadow that was cast in the moonlight and turned back to look at the ancient statue of the Dreadwolf. I don't know what I expected it to do. I imagined that it would sit up from lying down and stretch its giant head to howl. But no, it sat rigid. Looking out sombrely once again over the plains.
"More attentive than you think..." I whispered, echoing Mythal's words. My mind reeled, surely it couldn't have been true, that somehow an ancient slab of stone had fended off a pack of wolves. No! I suddenly thought, as a memory struck me. I reached into my clothes and from around my neck pulled out the small wolf token that Solas had given me. It's soft and simple wood almost glowed a ghostly white in the moonlight and I remembered what he had told me. If I wore it, no wolf would harm me. I smiled as a rush of feelings fluttered in my chest and kissed the little wooden face. I held it so tenderly, it was the only true affection he had ever shown me. With that thought I grew sad and wondered would he ever again show such feeling. No I could not bog myself down with these thoughts. Dorian was right, the crestfallen look didn't suit me. I didn't fall for people like this, I barely fell for anyone at all. I didn't need this in my life, there has never been a need to have someone as a partner. I've never needed to love and be loved by one person. I never needed someone to call vhenan... It might be nice... Stop it Nev!
I stuffed the feelings down into the pit of my chest and shoved the amulet back under my jerkin where it belonged. I gathered the rest of my composure and started back to the camp. I hadn't realised how long I'd been away but realised when I saw Grant and Maharen looking frantically about near the river bank.
"What are yous doing?" I whispered. Both their heads turned at once. Grants figure slouched and he comically wiped imaginary sweat from his brow.
"Do you have a death wish?" Hissed Maharen.
"What?"
"Wondering off into the night without your weapon for maker knows how long isn't exactly what I'd call sense, Lavellan." Grant chastised me as we walked back to the camp.
"I'm sorry, I was away longer than I realised." I said lowly.
"Wondering off like a child. I heard you were one of the best agents here, I've yet to see it proven." Maharen said again, his tone harsher.
"Alright take it easy," I snapped.
He said nothing more, just shook his head and retired to his tent. I turned to Grant.
"What's got his breeches in a twist?" I asked.
Grant shrugged, obviously as clueless as I was. "Maybe he has issues."
I didn't rightly care what his issues were. I was a grown woman, I could go for a walk if I chose to.
"We best be getting some rest." Raphael yawned, piling the last of the clean dishes up.
"Early start tomorrow." Melissa said.
I nodded and watched them retire to their tents, but Grant hovered a little more.
"Are you alright, Lavellan?" he asked me gently.
"Yes why?"
He smiled and shook his head, "Nothing you just... seem different."
"We've been through a lot, I wouldn't be surprised if I've lost some of my sheen." I shrugged.
"That's the thing..." he said distantly, "You seem to have more of it."
I didn't quite understand what he meant and his quick smile told me he knew, "Ah, what do I know, goodnight Lavellan."
"Goodnight..." I said and watched him retire. I stood out in the open once again and listened to the quiet noises of the night. I climbed into bed shortly after, we did have an early start after all and that fortress wasn't gong to scout itself.