A Call Beyond
The call from the Beyond has not weakened in the entire time you have been in this land. It has not grown stronger either, which is a small mercy. Thanks to the time you have spent studying the call, it has now proven less elusive than in the past. You know where it was and have a proven way into the Beyond, nothing now stands in your way.
"You're going where?" Merrill asks, clearly torn between fear and excitement.
"I am not in the habit of repeating myself," You reply, "I am only informing you so that nobody worries about my sudden disappearance."
Merrill frowns for a moment, fear slowly beginning to win out over excitement, "I don't know… The Beyond is dangerous, what if you get into trouble and never come back?"
You interrupt her before she can get lost in imagining the worst-case scenarios, "Given I have the ability to leave at will, there is little danger. Even that assumes that any of those demons can even pose a challenge to me."
Merrill looks at you, surprised. Her surprise quickly shifts to understanding, then to determination.
"I guess there's no choice," She mutters, almost to herself.
Then she raises her voice and yells, "Xandar! I'm postponing our lesson!"
"Merrill, what are you doing?" You ask, a suspicion growing in your mind already.
"I'm coming with you," Merrill states factually.
"Merrill, that is wholly unnecessary…" You begin to refuse her.
"It is!" Merrill exclaims, stepping up to you and thrusting a finger into your lower sternum, "You are underestimating the danger you face, let alone the risks of simply getting lost. I'm a mage with nearly a decade of experience with the Beyond; I'm coming with you and I'm not taking no for an answer."
You give Merrill a measuring look. Her face is set in a stubborn cast, one you are well familiar with. It is obvious to you that she will not yield on this matter; Findekáno had been every bit as stubborn about such matters.
With a sigh, you concede, "Go and inform Xandar of his lesson change like a civilised person, then meet me beyond the gate."
Merrill smiles victoriously as she rushes off to find her student.
The two of you meet outside the gates, beneath the same trees where Merrill had reclaimed her heritage. Today the two of you set off into the Beyond for exploration, a small part of you is giddy as a child at the prospect of discovering new horizons.
"Is this meant to take so long?" Merrill asks, not quite sarcastically.
Mostly you are very frustrated, "No, I am constantly having problems with this world's magic."
"Do you want me to try?" Merrill offers.
"No, teaching you would take longer than simply trying until it works," You reply, fighting the urge to curse as your spell fails to take again.
It ends up taking the better part of the morning to get the spell working. There seems to be something about the Veil that is constantly shifting and changing. It makes finding the correct conditions to make your entrance difficult, but not beyond your abilities.
Travelling through the Veil with Merrill is enlightening. As much as the Veil dislikes you, it absolutely hates Merrill. It takes the both of you working together to see her through the barrier safely.
Standing in the shadow Endataurëo casts in the Beyond, you ask Merrill how she is feeling.
She replies with a wan smile. "That wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't as bad as last time. I'll be fine. Where are we going?"
The two of you set off through the bizarre landscape of the Beyond. During what feels like ten minutes of walking you go from your home to a battlefield, then to some kind of temple and across a mountain range. The terrain makes no sense.
"Demons and spirits have pretty much total control over the Beyond," Merrill explains when you complain, "As a result, the Beyond tends to be basically whatever the last spirit passing through decided it should be, when it's not it's shaped by the collective subconscious of everyone who ever lived in the area."
Merrill's clearly brewing lecture on the nature of this dream world is interrupted as you crest a hill and reveal what lies before you.
For some time, the landscape has been narrowing, starting with what appeared to be a mountain range on the horizon. As you and Merrill traveled further it grew closer and closer, and it quickly changed to a luscious valley with green grass, flowers and an enormous chasm preventing forward progress.
A bridge of wooden slats strung between ropes stretches across the fissure, rickety and haphazard. You would be unwilling to trust it at the best of times, and the hunched figure in a ragged black robe only gives more reasons to take an alternate path.
You glance around at the 'mountains' that surround this 'valley'. Despite appearing to be natural formations, said formations surrounding you are smooth stone, rising vertical for twice your height. Only when they are well out of your reach do they begin to slope inward. From a distance it may be mistaken for a mountain but now that you are close, they look closer to a castle wall instead.
Merrill notices your observations but says nothing. When you have determined that there is no path around the fissure you turn to face her.
"Is there any method you know to pass by this obstacle?" You ask.
Merrill blinks in surprise but gives the area a considering look. "None spring to mind I'm afraid. I would not attempt to match a spirit in shaping the Beyond without extensive preparations."
You did not have high hopes, but you still want to be certain. "Is there no doubt that this is the doing of a spirit?"
"None," Merrill replies without hesitation, "Can't you see it waiting on the bridge?"
"I see a figure, that it was a spirit is something I assumed, but did not know," You reply, looking once more at the distant shape.
"It seems my senses are keener than yours when it comes to the Beyond," Merrill smirks at you.
"So, it would seem," You agree, "Let us see what it wants."
The two of you walk towards the bridge. The cloaked spirit raises its hood, revealing nothing beneath.
When it speaks, its voice is sibilant and hissing, soft as a whisper. "To cross in safety, you must answer me these riddles three."
You turn to Merrill. "Is there anything I should know about this?"
Merrill tilts her head slightly. "Well, it's almost certainly copying something. Spirits almost always have to mimic something they've seen - the only question is what."
For a moment you are silent, waiting for her to tell you the exact answer. You have no idea what it could be, disconnected from the history and mythology of Thedas as you are. As the silence stretches on, you realise that no answer is forthcoming.
With a sense of resignation you say, "You have no idea what it is copying, do you?"
Merrill blushes brightly, shaking her head tentatively. "There's just too many possibilities; the riddle challenge at the bridge is a fairly common plot device in myth, and who even knows what might have happened in history."
You sigh and turn away. "I suppose I will have to face this creature's riddles then."
The creature remains silent for a long time, no matter how long you wait to give its riddles.
Eventually your patience gives out and you bark out, "Well? What are your riddles? I do not have all day."
After you finish speaking, you get the impression that the creature is disappointed somehow. Whatever has displeased it, the creature's disturbing voice delivers its first riddle. "What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs at noon and three legs in the evening?"
Riddle games were a common pastime both in Valinor and in Beleriand, and you are rather good at them. This one, however, makes absolutely no sense to you. You wrack your brain for possible solutions, but nothing comes to mind.
"Is it a human?" Merrill asks. "As a baby they crawl, as an adult they walk upright, and they use a cane when they are old."
She notices you staring at her and looks confused. "What? It's a pretty common riddle."
"It is nonsense is what it is. There are many humans who do not use a cane in old age, and many young men who lose their legs in war," You reply, once again annoyed by how human-centric this world seems to be, "I have no better ideas however, so I guess that is our answer."
"Your answer…" The creature pauses, drawing the silence out, "Is incorrect."
The ground shifts and heaves. You leap aside as some kind of comedy spring erupts from the ground. Merrill's hands flash as she freezes hers. The creature looks at you, giving the impression that it is completely incapable of understanding what just happened.
Apparently unsure of what else to do, it repeats its earlier challenge. "To cross safely, you must answer me these riddles three."
You have never been one to give up, and as long as you are capable of avoiding the spirit's attempts to throw you into the ravine, you will continue to answer its riddles.
"Ask your riddle." You command, tensing warily for what might come.
The spirit seems content with your response, likely because it more closely resembles whatever it is imitating.
"There are six sisters. Each sister has a brother. How many brothers are there." The spirit hisses.
"One. Each of the six is related to the same brother." You reply confidently.
"That is incorrect." The creature states.
Once more the ground twists beneath you. You attempt to dodge away, only to feel the ground continue to shift to where you moved before. You lean into your momentum and roll further away, once more causing the spirit to begin again.
"To cross in safety, you must answer me these riddles three."
"Ask." You reply thorough gritted teeth.
"I am laced twice in eternity and always within sleight. What could I be?" The spirit asks.
Taking several deep breaths to calm yourself, you turn to Merrill. "I do not understand the question, do you?"
Merrill strokes her chin for a moment, then slowly nods. "I think it's the letter T."
The spirit remains silent, standing on the bridge with its hood turned to face Merrill.
"Is it correct?" You ask, annoyance at the delay under control for now. "Is the answer the letter T?"
"That answer." The spirit hisses. "Is incorrect."
Now it is Merrill's turn to face the twisting earth. She takes a different approach to you. With a leap into the air, you can sense the fade energy coalescing beneath her soles. You almost expected her to fly, but instead a stone shape erupts from the ground, a hand rising to catch her before she falls.
This is going to be a pattern; you can already tell. The spirit will ask a riddle and the answer will not be the common option. It makes some sense as a trap for those who know riddles well. You should have the advantage of not knowing the local riddles, but there is enough overlap if you understand the riddle, it is likely one you recognise.
Your prediction proves to have the accuracy you expect of yourself. While the lack of a sun makes it hard to tell for certain, you suspect you spend the better part of an hour attempting to answer the creature and avoiding its retribution.
"If you take the first two letters, I am a man, with the first three letters a woman, the first four signify a great man, but the whole is a great woman." The spirit recites its latest riddle.
You wrack your brain, but these kinds of riddles are the worst ones for you to answer. Many of them rest on slanted understandings of the words being spoken, or an intimate familiarity with spelling. As good as you are for what is you fourth language, you are not quite as skilled as the native speakers the riddles are designed for.
You turn to Merrill with a heavy heart. "Once again, I am completely lost. Please tell me that you have an idea."
Merrill chews her lip, cured of her habit of blurting out the common answer by repeated failure. She considers the riddle for some time, looking at the spirit as though its featureless hood will give the answer away.
"The usual answer would be hero, but there's that extra line at the end." She says slowly, clearly thinking aloud. "Following the logic, it's he, her, hero, then what?"
Merrill narrows her eyes, thinking hard. "I think the answer is heroine."
You give the elf a flat stare. "I think we have established that cautious language does not register with our opponent."
Merrill chuckles tiredly. "True. The answer is heroine."
"That answer." The spirit moans. "Is correct."
The spirit steps aside, revealing the bridge. Merrill looks as though she is about to celebrate, but you grab her by the wrist and pull her across the bridge. You have spent far too much time attempting this riddle to miss your window and start once more.
Once the two of you are across the bridge and Merrill has celebrated, the two of you resume your journey. Detailing the various biomes you pass through would be a tale all of its own, but they are not what ends your journey.
You pause atop a mountain made entirely of various kinds of fruit, stomach protesting loudly. Far in the distance a great shard of black stone stabs into the sky, a ring of fortifications surrounding the spire. You feel the call emanating from within the tower, though you cannot say why you are so certain it is the source.
"I think it is time to turn back." You tell Merrill.
"What?" Merrill exclaims. "We've come so far, we can't turn back now, we haven't even found what we're looking for!"
"Do you see that black spire in the distance?" You ask.
Merrill nods, and you continue, "It is our destination, it is surrounded by fortifications. I am tired, I am hungry, and I do not want to break into a fortress right now."
"Let's at least reach it, just so we know how long it takes to reach it. It might be bigger than you think, and further away." Merrill suggests hopefully.
Reluctantly you agree, and the two of you travel for an indeterminate amount of time to reach the out defences. A great curtain wall of black brick held together by faintly glowing green veins of a crystalline substance.
"We have arrived, now let us leave so I can get some food and water." You state, thirst raging.
"But we're already here, we should at least examine the walls." Merrill wheedles.
For a moment, you stare at the innocently smiling elf. Then you reach out and grab her shoulder. The Veil parts before you and you remerge into a forest. It takes very little time to realise that you are not in Becilian. Though it has many similar feelings, there is a weight of grief and despair that you have long associated with the ruins of Gondolin.
Merrill gasps, staring at some stone ruins. She walks over and strokes the stone gently, almost contemplatively.
"Is this? No, it can't be." She whispers to herself.
"Do you know the way back home, or do we have to go back through the Beyond?" You ask curtly, eyeing the sun sinking towards the horizon.
Merrill pauses, looking about her. "I think we need to go back the same way we came. Sorry."
You ignore her, moving through the wood, searching for a stream. It takes a few minutes, but you find one and you drink deeply. Merrill watches for a moment, then joins you.
"Oh Ghilan'nain, I hadn't realised how thirsty I was!" Merrill gasps between deep drinks.
"The Beyond plays with your senses, obfuscating the time you spend within." You observe.
The journey back is just as hazardous and long as the journey away. When you return it has been two full days since you departed. Merrill is quiet about whatever she thought of the forest you arrived in, and you are in no hurry to discuss it. The one good thing about the journey is that you are confident you can make it without delays in future.
Remnant of Glory
"You do not need to accompany me; I am simply going to be speaking to some of the Dalish," Solas says.
"You did not even know what a Dalish was until last week," You point out, "I believe you are severely underestimating how much the Dalish do not like outsiders."
Solas raises an eyebrow at you, "Did they not take you in when you first arrived here?"
"That was mostly Merrill's doing," You reply, "As I am certain you have realised, she is eager to investigate any mystery she comes across."
"I am certain that whatever has changed in my time away, I am more than capable of reaching them, Elvhen to Elvhen," Solas states calmly, a small smile playing around his lips.
The true name of the elves never ceases to annoy you. How lacking in imagination does a culture have to be to name themselves 'the people'? You do not share this annoyance with Solas - it would benefit neither of you.
"I doubt it will go quite so smoothly as you think," You say instead, "My limited understanding of the Dalish suggests they have little respect for those not of their clans."
"There are elves outside of the Dalish?" Solas asks, though you are unsure if he is speaking to you or himself, "You mentioned that only the Dalish wear the vallaslin, I assume these elves do not?"
You can see a glint of something in his eyes, but he remains infuriatingly difficult to read. For a moment you consider asking him why he is so interested in the matter, but you decide that is far too personal for your first real conversation.
"Should you not know this?" You ask, somewhat confused, "You are an elf without one."
Solas' eyes widen slightly, but he replies evenly, "I was not born in what most would consider normal circumstances, and I have been away from civilisation for much time. More has changed than I thought."
Now that he mentions it, he did say he had lived in the Beyond for a while. The corner of your lip curls up slightly, perhaps he means 'some time' the way you do.
Concealing your suspicions for now, you decide to answer the question, "There are, as I understand the matter, three groups of elves. First there are the Dalish, then there are elves in the Tevinter Imperium who are largely slaves."
That had been another revelation that made you furious. Much like the discovery of Tranquil, that fury had been stored away. For now.
"Then there are the elves who live in cities. The Dalish call them City elves," Maintaining Elvhen naming culture, you muse as you continue, "I am not certain of the details, but they live in human cities and seem somewhat unwelcome."
A frown crosses your face as you remember your conversation with Merrill on the matter, "The Dalish do not truly consider them to be the same people as they are. In truth I suspect that there is a significant undercurrent of contempt for those who prefer the security of walls to the dangers of the forest."
Solas looks unbalanced by your words. He swallows a few times before speaking.
"How did that happen?" He asks, "How did it come to this?"
Your belief that this elf is more than he seems becomes more certain. You are unable to resist the temptation to needle him.
"Is this not something you should know already?" You ask, leadingly.
When Solas looks at you in a mixture of alarm, triumph and surprise, you continue, "After all, the Beyond records the past and the event was large enough that any spirit should have been able to tell you. I would have thought it was the first thing an elf would ask."
Solas' expression relaxes to something more neutral, "Unfortunately, I had other concerns. Please, enlighten me."
You relay the tragic tale of the fall of the elves while the two of you walk towards your destination.
"Then the Dales were attacked, and the short version, as I understand it, is that if the elves are willing to surrender all sovereignty they are permitted to live in cities," You finish your explanation.
Solas has a faraway look in his eyes. "It seems I have missed more than I thought."
You shrug as you catch sight of Lanaya's guards. Terribly obvious as usual.
"I take it those are the Dalish?" Solas asks, seemingly recovered from whatever thoughts plagued him during your discussion of elven history.
"The outer pickets of the clan, yes," You reply, "One of these days I will have to sit them down and explain that standing behind a tree is not a substitute for proper stealth."
Solas' lip curls into a small smile. "One would think living in a forest would teach them how to hide."
"One would think that." You agree, before calling out a greeting to the guards in question, who jump in shock at being discovered.
"How did he spot us?" You hear the guards whisper.
That they believed themselves well-hidden is so tragic it is almost funny. Should the two ever meet, the Laiquendi will compose a lament for their complete lack of skill.
Thanks to your prior relations you are able to get a meeting with the keeper herself, though you will have to wait a time.
Turning to Solas, you ask, "Is there something you wish to do while we wait?"
Solas tilts his head in thought. "I suppose I should look around and get an idea of what life in the clan is like. I would hate to be accused of wilful ignorance."
You smile. "Excellent. If you like, I can give you an outsider's perspective as a primer."
Solas looks at you with tolerant amusement. "Oh? You are an expert on the matter, then?"
"As far as any outsider is," You reply, glancing at your surroundings, "I wrote a book on the matter."
This elicits a look of genuine surprise. "I did not take you for a scholar."
"I am not one. However, I refuse to simply accept the fact that I do not understand the world around me," You inform the elf, passion swelling in your voice, "I also refuse to simply accept it when people seek to conceal things from me."
"Perhaps you have missed your calling in life." Solas notes amused.
A lance of bitterness pierces you, the phantom weight of a crown on your brow. "Yes, I did. I believe that woman is our best bet; she is lonely and will talk to anyone who shows interest."
Despite his stated interest in learning, Solas proves a poor student. He is quick to point out when he finds a practice distasteful and has a degree of tact that makes you wonder if he is a distant relation. You have to drag him away from starting arguments several times before you get to meet Lanaya.
"So, who's this?" The keeper asks, "It's not often an elf asks for a formal introduction to a Dalish clan.
"This is Solas," You introduce the elf, "As for his reasons, I am as in the dark as you are."
Solas inclines his head. "Aneth ara."
Catching Layana's flash of anger, you cough and correct the elf. "Andaran atish'an is preferred between strangers."
Solas glances at you in surprise, then back to Lanaya. "I apologise, I am still adjusting to the circumstances I find myself in."
Lanaya shrugs. "Don't worry about it too much, city boy. What're you here for? Finally ready to stand up to the oppressors? Or are you just sick of licking human boots?"
It is far harder to notice Solas' anger, revealed only by a subtle tightening of his eyes. You do notice it however and are quick to interject.
"Is this how you greet all your kin?" You ask pointedly, "If so, it is a small wonder you ever get new members."
Lanaya glares at you. "This is an internal matter, outsider."
"Perhaps, but a wise leader knows better than to alienate a possible friend." You remind her. "They also know that carrying a grudge will only harm them in the long run."
Lanaya stares at you, anger in her eyes. You meet her gaze calmly, unflinching before the heat of her gaze. Slowly, the fury drains from her, and she looks at Solas, then back to you.
"Your problems are stupid, and so are you?" She asks, sounding strangely wistful.
"I did not say that, nor would I insult you for something so close to your heart," You reply gently, "You do not have enough friends to make enemies freely, so I would advise care when speaking to outsiders."
Lanaya laughs softly, then turns back to Solas, extending a hand. "Sorry outsider, shouldn't have been so rude. How about you forget my rudeness, I'll forget yours and we'll start over?"
Solas looks at her hand for a moment, cautiously extending his own to shake it. "I am amiable to that proposal."
Just once in your life, you would like to say that after the initial friction you were able to sit back and watch as people overcame their differences. Unfortunately, that was not the case in the past, and it is still not in the present. Lanaya and Solas step on each other's toes frequently.
Solas dislikes the elven pantheon of gods, and nearly starts a vendetta over the matter. Lanaya thinks that magic is far too dangerous to be trusted to most people, which nearly causes a mage duel. Each time they talk, you have to step in to soothe bruised egos and prevent violence.
The meeting drags on for what feels like years, but in truth it is not even an hour long. Solas wants to help the Dalish, possessing a great deal of knowledge on the elves of old. Lanaya is interested, but wary about trusting an outsider. They do not agree to anything, but they do agree to further meetings.
As you walk home with the apostate, you say, "I am going to have to come to all of these if I do not want a blood feud on my hands."
Solas adopts an apologetic expression. "I will admit that the Dalish are more different than I had expected. I will be certain to speak to Merrill about how to avoid offence in future."
The two of you walk in silence for a while. You are too tired to desire conversation, and Solas is once more lost in his own thoughts.
Suddenly Solas breaks the silence. "I have a question."
"Ask," You reply.
"Why are you helping me?"
Why are you helping Solas? It is not a question you have considered before. You rarely need a reason for what you do, merely acting in whatever manner you deem best at a given moment. It has caused problems in the past, but that has merely more cautious in the manner you act, rather than in what actions you take in the first place.
There are a number of reasons you could give, but you quickly dismiss them. No amount of pragmatism or duty would see you dedicating your time to this stranger who came into your life rather rudely. In fact, one could argue that it is in your best interests to see the elf gone from your lands as soon as possible.
Yet you welcomed him into your home and have dedicated time to helping him with a project that means nothing to you. Aiding him had even risked alienating one of the allies that you are cultivating for the coming war. Deep down you know the reason why, it is a part of who you are and always has been.
"I want the best for those around me." You say slowly. "For my friends: Merrill, Xandar, Ranger; for my students, for the Dalish who helped me when there was no reason to. Even you, stranger though you may be."
Solas looks at you then begins walking once more. "I hope you take no offence when I say that seems rather childish."
Your face lifts into a bitter smile. "I hope you take no offence when I say that seems a rather human view."
"Oh?" Solas replies. "You will have to explain the logic of that statement to me."
You look up to the sky, beyond the interlacing branches of the trees above. "Humans see everything as a contest. Everything is another path to power, and any who do not act in such a fashion are behaving as a child who does not understand the world."
Solas remains silent, contemplating your words.
You continue, "Take the Dalish. They have lost their home and have no one but themselves to rely on. Yet what do they do? They isolate themselves further. When the Sabrae came there was no one here to welcome them, to make sure they were safe."
"It is difficult to care for others when you are trying to survive yourself." Solas observes.
"That is always the excuse!" You reply, tone growing heated as long dead passion surges to the fore. "They do not see that the survival of one is the survival of all. There is always a reason not to help, to take care of themselves and care nothing for the whole. It is killing the Dalish, slowly. As clans shrink to disease their only mage cannot cure they cast out the newest mage because they cannot care for them. Madness!"
Solas stops again, turning to face you. "That does not seem to be a problem unique to humans."
You deflate, rage draining away leaving only sorrow. "True. Such thinking was a scourge among my own people also."
After a moment of silence, you return to the topic at hand. "My people would not have called my words childish though. We may not always have lived up to our own ideals, but we never pretended that excused us from trying."
"When my brother was conceived, my mother told me I had a duty as his older brother." You say quietly, gaze distant. "That I would have to be an example, that he would need my help as he grew. That I would receive privileges he would not because of my birth, and that made caring for him my responsibility."
"I can't say I had that experience." Solas says contemplatively. "I had no siblings."
"Finderáto always thought it applied to more than just our literal family." You continue as though he had not spoken. "He argued that the Firstborn were granted our great gifts to better care for those who came after. He lived that belief until his dying breath."
"He sounds like a noble elf. I would have loved to meet him." Solas said sadly.
You smile, nodding. Everyone had loved Finderáto, his death was a tragedy.
"I want to live to that standard." You confess. "To be the light in the dark, the guiding way. For what other reason was I sent here? To a land on the verge of a tide of darkness, with people divided one against the other, among distant kin who have lost their gifts."
You smile, amused by your thoughts. "You say my words sound childish, but to me I am the only adult among many children. How can I do anything but help them? Teach them and help them grow, to one day see the might of the Eldar shine bright in Thedas?"
"I cannot say I appreciate being called a child." Solas remarks dryly. "Yet I understand what you are trying to say. It is a noble sentiment."
The elf falls silent as the two of you continue to walk. As the wall of Endataurëo come into sight, you hear a cheery cry from one of your sentries. You smile proudly at the man and greet him in turn. The gates swing open to allow the two of you to enter.
Solas watches the humans scurrying about their duties, noting their expressions. After a short time of waiting, you inform him that you have other duties to see to. He waves you off and continues to watch.
As you reach the edge of hearing range, you hear him mutter, "A noble sentiment indeed."