The Way of the Warrior

"Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." – Capt. Edward A. Murphy

I didn't fight. I couldn't.

I made a mistake.

I had decided to wait for them to make camp before acting, thinking I could burn their entire camp to the ground.

There were eight humans decked out in armor. But there were four elves and three dwarves tied up with three guards standing watch.

One female dwarf stood next to the fire, cooking under the eye of another guard. Her brown eyes were hollowed out, empty.

My gaze passed through the other captives. One elven man was clutching a little boy close. He was the only one who was semi-alert; the others didn't seem alive. Their eyes too were hollow, too defeated.

I couldn't fight eight people alone. While the techniques of Dirth'ena Enasalin were embedded in my memory, I had never used it. My body had not been conditioned for its use. How could I use a fighting style that I had never even practiced in?

I was pushed into the circle of captives and I landed on the ground stomach first. I groaned, unable to contain the pain as the glass was pushed in further. Something inside my chest tore and I gasped as it became harder to breathe.

My lungs!

I didn't have long. Whatever I was going to do, it had to be now.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I choked, spitting blood out as I gasped, desperately trying to catch my breath.

I was going to die. I was going to die!

There was a flash of white from the corner of my eyes.

Thranduil?

There was a sudden spray of blood as a guard's head was cut off. The face was frozen in permanent surprise as it rolled to a stop, two grotesque pools of blood forming from the detached head and body. The three sentries stood back to back, their eyes roving through the camp as they searched for the attacker.

I made eye contact with the elven man and his child.

Run.

He shook his head discretely, indicating the binds.

We had to run! There were no assurances that the people who attacked were here to save us. Even the slavers could turn on us in their rage.

I ignored the growing breathlessness in my lungs and focused. I set the ropes binding me on fire, ignoring the searing heat burning my hands and legs. As my clothes caught on fire, I executed a localized freezing charm, dousing the flames.

"Apostate!" The bound dwarven male cried in fear.

Shit.

But it didn't matter. Their fear didn't matter. Not right now.

Dirth'ena Enasalin. Way of the Warrior. Protecting others.

I grabbed the sword of the dead guard and quickly freed the others. I scanned my surroundings, shocked to find a white-haired elf dressed in a warrior's ensemble battling seven slavers alone.

I couldn't fight like this. Not while I was fighting to breathe.

I turned to find my fellow prisoners huddled together. "Run!" I commanded, but almost all of them shook their heads.

What?!

"Run! We can't trust that he'll help us!"

"When the humans win, they'll catch us and punish us for running. It's better to wait," the female dwarf who had been cooking before ignored my incredulous look, "This isn't the first time they've been attacked."

No. No! I would not submit. I would never submit. I would rather die fighting!

I pulled the glass piece out and grit my teeth against the throbbing pain that pulsed through my ribs. I focused neutral magic through the wound as I watched the elf fight against the slavers.

Against all odds, he was winning. The white haired elf was ruthless, a killing machine, never hesitating as he weathered their relentless attacks and cutting through any opening. Once, as a man breached through his guard, the elf glowed white before ramming his hand through the man's chest, pulling out his heart and throwing it straight at the attacker behind him.

If the elf decided to attack us, we didn't stand a chance.

I looked back to my chest and found it glowing red with a dash of yellow at the opening. Internal and external bleeding with a dash of infection. As Desire had instructed, I guided the healing magic, encouraging the bleeding to stop by clotting and having the cells in my lungs multiply until the internal bleeding stopped. There was a severe drain on my mana and I stopped as I felt intense fatigue set in. I couldn't finish the healing, so the impact wound was still open, but it would have to wait.

At least I won't be bleeding to death. But I couldn't ignore the threat right in front of me either.

I stood in front of my fellow captives and held my sword defensively in front of me. One of the three remaining captors caught sight of us free and roared incoherently in rage.

He charged towards me. His distraction proved fatal to his two companions as the attacking elf stabbed the remaining two with each arm, piercing one with his faded arm and another with his greatsword.

I fade-stepped, circling the last man's charge, stopping at his back. Before he could turn around to face me, I swung my borrowed sword at his neck. He ducked and stabbed forward and I cussed as I dodged. These humans were well-trained.

I couldn't call anymore magic. Not if I wanted to remain standing.

As he struck again, I let his sword pierce my shoulder and used the opening in his form to stab him through the stomach. He gasped and his face twisted in fury. He twisted his blade, clearly intending to cut off my arm in revenge.

I gathered every last bit of strength in my body and forcefully swung upwards, splitting his upper body vertically in half.

Blood sprayed all over my torso and I spit to get rid of the blood that entered my mouth.

My head spun, my vision splitting into double before darkening at the edges.

Not now. It wasn't safe.

I desperately fought to stay conscious as the elf approached with his sword pointed straight at me.

"Lethallin, please, stop," I begged, all my pride swept away at the very real possibility of death.

"Mage," his accusatory tone conveyed his entire attitude towards them. Hatred, derision and fear. There would be no compromise.

I ran a hand down my face to clear my vision and the blood off my face. I swallowed to clear my dry throat and took the guard position in front of my fellow prisoners.

At least I'd die fighting.

As I bent my knees to raise my guard, I looked up and found the elf staring gobsmacked at my face, tracing it intently.

"What is that? Why do you have lyrium markings on your face?"

"I am Dalish. And these are vallaslin, not lyrium markings." The elf had a Tevene accent. It was possible that he had been fighting the other slavers just to "steal" their property.

"Dalish?"

I stared at him uncomprehendingly, "The keepers of the lost lore. The free elves of Thedas."

He glared at me, "Move away from them."

It felt like I was staring death in the face. But, "No, we will not submit. Not to you, and certainly not to Tevinter. I'd rather die fighting."

Someone bashed the back of my head, and I collapsed to the ground, catching a glimpse of the female dwarf behind me as she addressed the elf, "We submit. That elf doesn't speak for us."

No.

I strained to fight against the limits of my body desperately trying to retain my consciousness as the white haired elf approached me.

I blinked. Then failed to reopen my eyes.

My eyes were crusted shut. There was jostling; I was hung over someone's shoulder.

Where was I? There was a fire inside me. It was hot, too hot.

There were voices mumbling quietly.

A deep rumble echoed from the figure holding me.

I lost consciousness again.

I woke up and found myself lying down, staring at the night sky. There were voices a few metres ahead of me.

My mana had returned but I was weak. There was a throbbing ache in my shoulder and ribs.

I was still alive.

I connected beyond the veil, increasing my mana pool, and as my mana grew, I heard a sword being unsheathed.

"I knew I made a mistake. Shouldn't have brought you with us."

I bolted up straight and scanned my surroundings. The white-haired elf was holding his greatsword with both hands, ready to strike.

I looked around at the others and found them unbound, huddling close to a fire.

Belated realization dawned upon me, "You aren't a slaver."

"Clearly. Stop what you are doing right now, or your head will roll." He took a menacing step forward.

"I was about to perform healing magic." I abruptly severed the connections, creating a small ricocheting boom at the feedback.

He relaxed, but still stood armed, "You may proceed under my watch."

I watched him cautiously as I spread the healing magic again, taking a preliminary scan. My shoulder and ribs were infected.

Shit.

I was too afraid to ask Desire what to do while facing the cautious elf.

Taking a gamble, I destroyed the infected sections until the bleeding began anew. Once the infection cleared, I encouraged clotting and then regeneration of the cells.

As the healing completed, I felt the edges of my vision darken again. This was too taxing. Healing magic was too difficult.

I swayed and the elf caught me before I crashed to the ground.

"You're a rookie healer. Perfect." I ignored his sarcasm as I fought to stabilize myself.

He lifted me by the back of the tunic as if I was an errant puppy and placed me before the fire, "Eat something first. We are heading to Gwaren and I'm not going to carry you again."

I ate the stew handed to me quietly. They had taken the slavers' supplies and horses. The two horses available had clearly been cut away from the cage that had held the slaves. They were now fitted with supplies and grazing quietly next to the tree they had been tied to.

After eating a full meal, I quietly sauntered off to my bed roll, too tired to make any conversation. I had no friends here.

The elf followed, sitting close to me as I nodded off.

The next morning was marginally better. When the others decided to skip the morning meal, I halted them, aware that there was a collection of edible herbs further east of the forest. After asking them to wait for an hour, I trekked east alone after giving them assurances that I'd be back very soon.

As I walked further away from them, I contemplated making a run for it and heading to Denerim. But it wasn't feasible.

My skills so far had been concentrated on information collection, for that was what Dalish clans valued. I had experimented with magic, the basic forces of nature and with the Fade. I had created weak mimicries of spells half-remembered from a past life. Flashfire, chain lightening, barriers, runes and a few unorthodox spells like incendio, aguamenti and levitate were among the most common spells that my clan used after I 'invented' them.

But I was an amateur.

Even if I set out to join my clan in Denerim, the chances of reaching were close to nil. I had barely survived my encounter with slavers. Darkspawn hordes were reported to be heading north towards Gwaren, and would eventually reach Denerim. The possibility of encountering a horde while travelling alone wasn't reassuring. Apart from darkspawn hordes, templars, chevaliers, and even the common folk considered the Dalish as enemies.

I only wanted to be a scholar. I wanted to do research. Explore the boundaries of magic, the Fade and see what adaptations I could bring in from my past life that could help my clan.

But I also needed to survive. Dirth'ena Enasalin could help me do that. However, it required the complete application of mind, body and spirit. There could be no doubts, for a weakness in will weakened both the spirit and body. There was also no finish line, for Dirth'ena Enasalin required constant upkeep and improvement.

I also needed healing magic. But healing magic also required almost complete dedication. Magic, anatomy, intents and the harmonies between intents inside the body needed to be studied.

I worried over the possibilities as I harvested the edible herbs and fungi. A nug skittered past and I sighed as I zapped it with a Paralysis. I levitated it towards me and snapped its neck. I started heading back.

I wanted to do all three. I didn't want to give up any of it.

"So, don't give it up. Do all three. But learn Dirth'ena Ensalin first. It's good to attain an understanding of the limits of your body and…well; you need to learn to protect yourself."

I sighed. Desire was right.

"Desire, for now, it might be good if you don't talk to me when we are around the marked elf."

There was a scoff, then complete silence.

To learn Dirth'ena Enasalin, I had to be completely devoted to something. I had to believe in it enough that my will transformed both spirit and body.

I wasn't sure it was possible for me. Being a Dreamer showed me that there was no such thing as truth. I couldn't blindly devote myself to a person either, not without having that devotion returned. And abstract causes such as morality, leaders, nations, and gods meant nothing to me.

The only thing that meant anything to me was my clan. And Thranduil.

I could devote myself to Thranduil.

As I pondered that possibility, I walked into the clearing where we had set up camp.

And found it empty.

I don't think they expected me to return.

I sighed and considered my options. They had left a clear trail and they didn't have more than half an hour's lead on me.

Or I could head towards Denerim…alone.

I wanted to live. With all my being, I wanted to be alive, free and loved. Survival was one of the few rarely corrupted goals. Due to my previous life and Dalish influences, I believed everyone in Thedas was born equal and free.

I didn't have to like the other races. I didn't even like non-Dalish elves. But I could fight for those ideals. For those basic rights.

I had fought for it. I hadn't been able to abandon those would-be slaves. Not even when we'd been outmatched by that elf. I suppose that was what Dirth'ena Enasalin was about. The will defining the limits of the spirit and body.

It was decided then. I would fight to survive and defend basic rights of all people.

I sighed again.

And followed the visible trail left behind by the travelling party.

Survival was important.

"You're back."

I disregarded the white-haired elf as I handed out the herbs, ignoring the awkward sideway glances the others gave. The elven father placed his hand on my shoulder, "Thank you, da'len."

I looked him straight in the eyes and found a trace of remorse. He squeezed my shoulders in silent apology and I sighed heavily before nodding slowly.

I didn't care. I had expected this kind of behavior anyways, for I was an elven apostate.

"My name is Duran and this is my son, Pulai. What's your name, dalen?"

"I'm Erelani of clan Arwen."

No one else volunteered any introductions. I gathered my courage and approached the white-haired elf.

"What do you want, mage?"

"Are you from Tevinter?"

"Why, are you curious about the mage paradise? Yes, I am from Tevinter and its full of elven slaves bound to human mages."

I tried to brush off his pointed insult, "Thank you for helping me."

He paused in his strides before continuing, "It was nothing. It had nothing to do with you. I was a slave once."

A feeling of déjà vu was starting to nag at me, "My name is Erelani. What's yours?"

"Fenris."

I froze in my tracks. I had just met Fenris, before he had ever met Hawke, and his paranoia and anti-mage sentiments were strong. But this was Fenris. My chances of surviving were exponentially higher with him around than not.

But he hated me. He couldn't even stand to be civil to me. I still had to try though.

Because this was Fenris.

"That's rough. My clan was recruited to fight the Blight while I was trapped in the Brecillian Ruins. I got out and ran into slavers. That's it about me." I offered with a guileless smile and gave him a friendly nudge.

Fenris caught my receding arm and squeezed painfully tight, "Don't touch me."

I sighed and tried again, "Sorry. You resemble one of my clansmen, so I forgot." I stared intently at the lyrium markings, "Do you phase through the Fade using lyrium markings? You know, to rip hearts out?"

Fenris glared pointedly at me and I backed away, "If you don't want to talk about yourself, do you want to hear about the Dalish?"

"No."

I retreated to Duran and kept pace with him. I wouldn't give up, not so easily, but, clearly, I needed to give Fenris some space.

As the journey continued, I grew bored and started practicing the basic forms of Dirth'ena Enasalin. It wasn't anything spectacular, just basic strength exercises that used targeted healing to build strength efficiently. I used a lot of healing magic in an attempt to cultivate that knowledge base too.

When I got tired, I looked up to find the party maintaining a considerable gap from me. I stared in incomprehension until Fenris punched me lightly on the shoulder.

"Watch what you're doing. You're emitting so much magic that it's making me twitch."

"I'm just training."

"Doesn't change the fact that no one here likes what you're doing."

I grit my teeth as I tried to brush off his offensive words. "Doesn't change the fact that I'm training." I repeated firmly.

Fenris gave me a considering look before dismissing me.

I bristled again in offense and stopped, letting him pass me.

I was making him twitch, was I? I had been refraining from practicing magical enforcement and spawning Fade weapons, aware that it could discomfit my travelling party. But guess what I was going to practice next? As if I would submit after such blatant and deliberate offense.

I ignored Fenris' glare as I practiced spawning swords, bows and daggers. When we set up camp that night, everyone gave me a wide berth.

As if I cared.

The next morning, as we traveled, I deliberately stood in the middle, between everyone, taking a perverse pleasure in their discomfort. I refrained from spawning weapons, but I repeatedly reinforced my armor, sending deliberate magical pulses each time I did so.

Eventually Duran pulled me aside, "Erelani, perhaps your clan is accustomed to magic, and I understand you have a different upbringing, but most of us do not like having such constant exposure to magic. Please refrain from practicing while travelling with this company."

Some of the frustration that had been clawing at me since yesterday faded. While Duran had expressed his discomfort with magic, he'd been mindful of his words, aware that there was a cultural gap between us. But as my gaze passed over the others, their disgusted and fearful countenance gave rise to a crawling feeling that I thought long forgotten. I felt shameful. Disgusting.

No. I would not feel this way. How dare they!

As I turned to reply, I spotted an arrow heading straight towards Duran. I impulsively stood in front of him and cast enforced armor over my body. The arrow struck me straight in my heart, the impact pushing me, before the spell bounced it off my body. Arrows started raining from all sides and I cast barrier over the surrounding party, aware I'd only have five minutes before I had to recast.

"Take cover with the others!" I yelled, pushing Duran towards the others.

I pivoted and found Fenris racing into the trees with his sword drawn, outside the range of the barrier spell. I cursed and recast on him as I headed the opposite way.

We were surrounded. There were arrows flying from every direction.

Another wave of arrows hit the horses, killing them instantly.

"Fenedhis!" I swore and I fadestepped to where the archers were located on the left side. I stopped far away from them, taking a moment to survey the attackers.

Darkspawn. There was a small horde surrounding the road.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I cast a Static Cage over the seven archers in front of me before casting two Fire Mines successively to ensure they wouldn't survive. A darkspawn Hurlock mage noticed the spell and shot a Fireball at me, drawing attention to me. Four of the Hurlock warriors rushed towards me and I fadestepped around them, stopping behind the mage.

Come on, create a blade. I need to live, live!

A sharp blade spawned, and I quickly beheaded the mage, a rain of darkspawn blood splattering me.

Darkspawn blood! I couldn't ingest it, even accidentally, or have any open wounds come in contact with it.

Shit! Fenris was a warrior and had lyrium running through him!

I needed to make sure the barriers didn't fade out!

I could do this. I would do this!

I felt my focus sharpen as the Fire Mines went off, burning the Hurlock archers to death with two localized explosions. The warriors were caught off-guard and I froze one with Winter's Grasp. I cast Paralysis on another and fadestepped when the other two got too close, beheading the paralysed warrior as I passed through. I stopped next to the frozen Hurlock, using the momentum from stopping to slash through him.

Two down, two to go.

As the last two charged me again, I levitated the corpse and threw it into the closest one, making him stumble. I cast Chain Lightening, and took advantage of their momentary disorientation to behead them both.

Dirth'ena Enasalin. While I wasn't too experienced in physical combat, the Way of the Warrior had helped me use the knowledge I had already accrued in a devastating fashion. The memories had provided me with an inherent knowledge of which spell combinations would do the most devastating damage.

I fadestepped back to the clearing and found Fenris fighting alone, the sheen of his barrier still present as he battled three warriors alone, seven others lying dead on the ground. Three archers maintained a steady stream of arrows at the eight civilians in the company, two elves whose names I hadn't bothered to learn already dead. The others were using their bodies as an impromptu shield against the arrows.

I cast a barrier over them again and cast Chain Lightening over the archers. Two were caught in the attack, but the third dodged and shifted his aim towards me. His arrow flew, and his aim rang true, the arrow piercing my ribs yet again.

I choked, blood spewing out at the force of the blow. I struggled to breath yet again, blood welling up in my lungs. Another arrow caught my peripheral gaze and I rolled, barely missing the shot.

Focus, focus, focus!

I cast enforced armor again, taking care to recast a barrier on Fenris, just in case.

My mana was running low. I cast the remaining mana out recklessly through the veil and into the Fade, suctioning the energy desperately into my body.

I channeled the energy through my body and out, straight at the archers. The only thought through my mind was burn.

And they did. A fierce line of fire extended from the ground, splitting in three quickly to surround the archers. One escaped, but two of them were unable to escape, shrieking as they burned to death under white hot flames.

I stopped as the two flopped to the ground, the fires still blazing as it slowly encroached the tree line. I turned to the last one and found him impaled by Fenris, his sword pinning the archer grotesquely to the tree behind him.

Focus. It's not over yet.

Fenris scanned his surrounding carefully, taking a guard position in front of the remaining survivors. I joined him, casting a barrier over all of us as we waited cautiously.

We couldn't conduct a cautionary check, not when Fenris and I were the only combat capable people in the party.

Desire, if you can, will you please help me?

There was silence.

Desire!

There was no response. A shade of worry rose, but now was not the time for distractions. I cast my senses about for any spirits that might have witnessed this battle.

A spirit of Valor responded.

"What a novelty! A Dreamer that doesn't fear spirits! You have impressed me with your show of valor. What can I do for you, young lady?"

I took a deep breath to compose myself.

Will you please scan the surroundings for me from the other side? There are civilians with me that I must protect, and I cannot do this alone. I would greatly appreciate your assistance, Valor.

"Yes, brave girl, I will help you, but to do so you must send out a pulse of Fade energy. I can relay the information to you in return. Perhaps you will learn to do it yourself."

I opened my eyes, and saw that the others were still watching warily. Pulai had started sobbing, shaking in his horror.

I gathered my last remaining mana, the drain making my knees wobble. I released a pulse again, the energy putting out the fires raging in front of us as it traveled through, like a wave cresting at the shores, only in all directions.

As dark spots started appearing in my vision, Valor spoke.

"The area is clear. There is one darkspawn in the area, but it's running away from you. Chances are, it retreated and is headed back to the horde to provide information."

Ma serannas, Valor. I won't forget this. And I wouldn't. Valor had been remarkably kind and helpful. It was the only silver lining after a string of horrible days.

"So, any information?" Fenris queried as he scanned his surroundings.

"One darkspawn escaped, it's likely heading back to the horde. We're safe, for now."

It was finally over. My vision faded as my body gave up. As I tilted, someone caught me.

"Not again!"

AN: The action scenes were hard for me. I would love some feedback on it.

Translations:

Ma Serannas : Thank you
Dirth'ena Enasalin: The Path to Victory, The Way of the Warrior
Lethallin: Kin, gender neutral