From the Ashes: Smoldering Cinders (ch. 6) (Patreon)

I had found the Dalish, but I wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing.

Before I was allowed anywhere near their camp, my hands were bound and Theron grilled me with questions while Tamlen carried my empty pack. He completely dismissed it because it was empty, and I counted that as a lucky break considering the bag would be revealed as magical upon inspection. Bright Feather considered his job done and moved on to wherever birds went at night. I didn’t know. Birds learned not to nest in the alienage or they’d find themselves dinner.

Sounds of the camp reached me before I caught sight of them. Sounds of laughter and talking. Most of it was in the common tongue, but I also recognized elven words tossed in almost carelessly. I hardly knew any elvish naturally, yet to both my and Gaxkang’s memories, the elvish sounded a bit weird to my ear. Theron ended up going ahead just before we caught sight of the clan itself, leaving me with Tameln.

He seemed to be an agreeable sort. More friendly than Theron, at least. Still, it was obvious that he didn’t trust me even as he looked at me with pity. We didn’t speak and I tried not to mind the rough-hewn rope digging into my wrists as we waited for Theron. Minutes passed in heavy silence, both of us awaiting permission to enter the perimeter of the camp and it seemed we got it because we both heard a whistle and Tamlen shoved me forward.

It was then that I got my first look at the Dalish. They all looked like wild elves. Savages, really. Dressed in leather, furs, and ironwood with tattoos on their faces. The clan was a large one, I thought, because I caught a glimpse of at least a hundred faces looking at me with a mixture of curiosity, hope, disdain, and surprise. There seemed to be plenty of men and women, elders and children, though the children were being brought away from me. They sat at campfires, sitting around them like I had interrupted something.

Dotted around the camp were odd-looking wagons that were painted a wide variety of colors. Tamlen led me to one, away from the main group of people, but in the darkness, I saw other elves looking at me. The younger ones, I saw, didn’t have tattooed faces. They were all armed, though.

“Keeper Marethari, this is a flat-ear that we found venturing directly towards our camp,” Tamlen said, kicking my legs out from underneath me, forcing me to my knees before the odd wagon. The doors opened, revealing an elderly woman that stepped out while Theron and a dark haired elven woman stood on both sides of the door. The first thing I noticed about her was her stark white hair, the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth…

The second thing that I noticed was that she had a staff in her hands that glowed with ethereal light. The Fade seemed to coil around it as it hummed with power in a way that I could almost hear. I couldn’t stop myself.

“You’re a mage?” I blurted, wishing I could take the words back as soon as I said them. The old woman, Keeper Marethari, raised an eyebrow while the elven woman giggled at me.

“‘Course she’s a mage! She’s the Keeper, silly. Oh. Do they not have Keeper in the shemlen cities? How would you ever know where to go?” She questioned, seemingly deciding that we didn’t have Keepers right after asking the question in the first place. “Do you not have mages at all?”

Keeper Marethari spared her a glance, “They do not, Merrill. The shemlen Templars take any mage that they find and imprison them in their Circles -- human and elven alike,” she informed, looking back at me with dark green eyes. “Does this knowledge bother you?”

I never met another mage before. I thought that… I don’t even know what I thought. The Chantry said a lot about mages, most of it not good, but I knew that most of it wasn’t true because I didn’t think what they said applied to me very much at all. It also seemed that the Chantry teachings didn’t apply to others because the woman before me, stepping out of her wagon with regal grace, didn’t seem like a cackling evil maleficar to me.

I shook my head, “No. I was just surprised, is all.” I said and I felt the truth on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it down. They had mages as their leaders -- I think -- but I didn’t know if they would welcome a new one into their midst. Though, would it be better to reveal it now or hide my magic until they trusted me a little bit more? Hiding my magic was second nature to me and, despite my own thoughts, I swallowed the truth down.

“As Theron tells it, you were running straight towards our clan, child,” She spoke to me, a stern tone that I recognized.

I glanced at Theron, who narrowed his eyes at me, before I shrugged. “It might have looked that way to him, but that’s because he missed me wandering around in circles for days now,” I told her. Wasn’t like I could tell her I asked a bird and he led me right to them. “I just picked a direction and I was going to run that way until I reached the other end of the forest. The plan was to break the forest up into chunks and I figured I’d run into you eventually.”

Merrill laughed, her hands covering her mouth as she giggled. The rest seemed amused as they exchanged glances, “I fear,” Keeper Marethari began, “you have vastly underestimated the size of the Brecilian forest.”

“Well… I found you, didn’t I? Or you found me. Same difference, innit?” I said, and it seemed that they believed me. I was just a city elf that was wandering the woods and lucked out finding them. “I’m Azoth. Azoth Surana. I… was hoping that I could join you. If you would have me.”

Keeper Marethari gave me a measured look, though not unsympathetic. "It is a rare thing for a city elf to wish to join the Dalish," she remarked.

My brow furrowed. "Every elf leaves the alienage at some point to join the Dalish. Most end up coming back worse for wear. The few that don't… I liked to think that they found you, but from the sounds of it they found only their deaths." I voiced and Merrill looked genuinely saddened by the news.

"They could have found other clans. I hope they found other clans," Merrill muttered to herself.

"As I hear it, the few that are determined enough to reach a clan are on the run from shemlen justice -- thievery, rape, murder -- such crimes that death will be waiting for them if they go back to the city. For what reason have you left the shemlen cities?" Keeper Marethari continued without pause.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn't come out. I… I had to force myself to speak. "There… there was a purge on the alienage. A bad one. Burnt half of it down and murdered half a thousand of us because… because one elf didn't want to be raped and had the audacity to fight her attacker off with a dagger longer than her palm. So they butchered everyone they got their hands on. I… I couldn't stay in the city after that. I had to find you -- the Dalish!"

Merrill looked mortified and my words wiped the sneer on Theron's face off. Keeper Marethari closed her eyes for a moment and let out a sigh, quietly muttering something in elvish under her breath. When she opened them, the measuring look was gone and replaced with a compassionate gaze. “Then it is justice that you seek?”

I shook my head, momentarily catching them by surprise. “No. Justice is clean. What I want is vengeance, Keeper Marethari.” I stressed, gazing at her to convince her of my sincerity. Of how far I was willing to go to get it. I already left everything I had ever known behind.

“You lost someone in this purge, Azoth?” It was Theron that spoke up, sounding sympathetic. I think he understood in a weird way. Maybe not what I was feeling, but he wasn’t looking at me with a sneer or calling me flat-ear. At the very least, he seemed convinced.

I wanted to answer. I did. However, my throat seemed to close up and the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all I could do was nod. Tamlen approached and dropped to a knee, undoing the knot that bound my wrists together easily enough.

“If you don’t mind, I could help heal your eyes,” Merrill said, stepping over. I narrowed my eyes ever so slightly, wary despite myself, before I offered a slow nod. She smiled sweetly before pressing her finger times to my face, her bright green eyes glowing, and it would seem that Merrill was a mage as well. I felt her magic pass over me, through my eyes. I didn’t really feel the effects, but when she withdrew her hand, she smiled, “There, all better now. Oh! What pretty eyes you have!”

“For now,” Keeper Marethari spoke up, “you are permitted to stay with us. You will learn our ways and forget the shackles of the shemlen. You will answer to Theron and Tamlen -- they will oversee your progress and, in time, you may earn the right to wear a Vallaslin to honor a Creator of your choosing.” Is that what the tattoos were? And the Chantry were right about the Dalish not worshiping the Maker? “For now, rest easy child. You are home now.”

That wasn’t true. My home had been hung from a tree and there was no replacing it.

But, for now, this was a place to stay.

…

The little sleep I could get was poor. It was a good thing that I was placed in a half tent away from the rest of the clan until I had earned their trust. The scant few hours were plagued by demons that sought me out, sensing the hole in my soul and whispering that they could fill it. Demons of Rage promised me the power I needed to exact my revenge. Demons of Despair and Terror wore me down with illusions of what had happened the day I was uselessly moving boxes while my family was slaughtered. Even bleary-eyed and feeling an exhaustion bone-deep, I was glad to awaken early in the morning at the crack of dawn.

I couldn't have slept for more than a few hours, but a quick cast of Rejuvenation gave me the burst of energy I needed to wake up. Tossing off the sleeping roll I was given, I cast a look at my pack that was in the corner of the tent. Reaching out with Mage Hand, I dragged it over and reached in to make sure everything was where it should be. While it was impossible to tell if anyone had checked the bag while I did sleep -- if they did, they hadn't removed anything. Keening Blade was still there, as was Fang. Along with my tomes.

I took out the one I had learned Speak With Animals from -- I thought the tome spoke gibberish for the most part. Couldn't understand a third of it, even if it was written in a language I could read. It was a tome that I could learn from, I had proven that much already. Though, its magic was… elusive and ill-defined.

A druid, it seemed, dealt with nature and beasts. From using nature as a weapon by controlling vines or trees to do my bidding, to binding with animals, to taking animalistic traits into myself to enhance my sense of smell or vision. There was even shape changing into beasts, but that was referenced in the book instead of actually detailed.

Of the spells I found that I already knew were Goodberry, Shillelagh, and Animal Friendship. However, that was not the extent that the tome offered. There were other spells, such as Moonbeam, Beast Sense, Alter Self, and Beast Bond -- which would bond an animal to me such that we could communicate telepathically. I wasn'tsure if that was a good thing or not because Bright Feathers hadn't impressed with his wit.

So lost was I in reading about the spells I hoped to learn, I nearly missed the sound of footsteps approaching my tent not long after the crack of dawn. In haste, I shoved the book into my pack just a moment before I saw Theron poke his head into my tent and he seemed surprised to see me awake. "I thought I'd have to shake you awake," he admitted as I climbed out of the tent.

"I've been up for a bit, but it didn't seem wise to explore the camp on my own," I told him, earning an agreeing nod.

"Wise, da'len," Theron agreed, calling me a child in elvish. "Come. Today is a day of tests to see where you will fit in with the clan," he informed me and I saw that I would be starting with archery. I never held a bow in my life, but I graciously accepted a bow and arrow from Tamlen, who had been waiting for us.

"Your eyes are better," Tamlen told me as I took my place down the way from the target -- a training dummy wearing old rusted armor complete with a helmet. The target, it seemed, were vital places in the armor. Primarily the eyes, mouth, armpits, elbows, and so on. Places where the armor had to be thinner or leave a gap so people could move freely. "Forgive us if we offended you, but when we saw your eyes like that -- all red…"

"You're fine. You were protecting your home and families. I… would have done worse if I came across me," I reassured Tamlen, who gave his instructions on how to use the bow. Which, ultimately, amounted to that I had to 'feel' the shot. Theron helped a bit with correcting my form, and I found that I learned little beyond that drawing a bow was more difficult than I thought it would be.

All the same, I pulled back and let the arrow loose, trying to 'feel' it. The arrow slammed into the tree that the dummy was propped up on while the drawstring slapped the inside of my wrist. It hurt, but I said nothing of it.

"You were close," Tamlen encouraged. "You've really never used a bow before?" He questioned as I notched another arrow that he gave me.

"We weren't allowed to have weapons in the alienage," I responded, taking a breath and trying again. This time, I overcorrected and the arrow sailed past the dummy and tree both. My eyes narrowed in annoyance. The inside of my wrist stung but I accepted another arrow from Tamlen while Theron shook his head.

"I can't imagine that. Theron and I have been using bows since we could walk! He's a better shot, but I'm better with knives," he informed with a cocky smirk. Theron rolled his eyes, but didn't argue the point. They sounded like friends with an old dynamic. Like Kallian and I used to.

A third shot hit the tree again, this time going too low.

"We're hunters," Theron decided to explain. "We provide game for the clan and defend it from shemlen or beasts," he said, catching my attention.

"You attack humans?" I questioned, harsher than I intended to.

Tamlen nodded, "When they come too close to the clan, we do. Occasionally, we run into bands of bandits or mercenaries. Have you never killed a shemlen before?"

I shook my head as I drew the bow, "No. We can't." I lined up the shot, trying to correct my aim. This time, when I released the arrow, I struck the dummy even if the arrow bounced off of the scalemail.

Theron scoffed, "Too dangerous?"

"The last big purge on the alienage was about ten years ago. An elven dockworker killed a human with a bad punch to the head. A human mob came in and purged the alienage in response, killing hundreds. I have… had a friend named Soris whose mother was killed in that purge," I muttered bitterly, taking aim once again. I wondered how Soris was doing. Did he still expect me to come crawling back? Did he believe I found the Dalish?

Tamlen looked ill at the thought but Theron shook his head in disgust, "How can the flat-ears stomach staying in that place then?" He demanded, and I chose to see it as him being angry on their behalf rather than angry that us flat ears stayed in the alienage.

"Because," I spoke, my voice slow and even. "We internalized that we can do nothing. The humans hardly need a reason to purge the alienage. The one that… the Arl seemed to be worried about food this winter and he had the brilliant idea that if there were less mouths to feed, then food prices wouldn't rise so high that valuable citizens like dwarves and humans wouldn't go hungry. So, what better to do than going into the alienage with an army and butchering every elf they could see?" I spoke with a savage tone, hate leaking into my voice as I released another arrow and completely missed.

It wasn't a charitable account of what happened, but I wasn't in the mood to be charitable in regards to why Arl Urien sent the guard into the alienage. It made sense to me and Tamlen and Theron had no trouble believing it.

"We can't leave. The humans make fun of the lone elf leaving for the Dalish, but there are thousands of elves in Denerim. Tens of thousands, even. They’d sooner see us dead than let us leave. Who else would polish their floors and lick their boots?” I snatched another arrow out of Tamlen’s hands, who watched me carefully because of my anger. Were they worried that I would turn it upon them? “We can’t fight. All we can do is keep our heads down and hope that it's someone else's family hung from the Vhenadahl tree.”

I nocked the arrow and this time I cast True Strike upon it. I had terrible aim. I couldn’t do a damn thing without my magic, it seemed. My face twisted into a snarl as I let the arrow loose, the bowstring snapping at the inside of my wrist hard enough that it bled, but the arrow sailed true. The arrowhead slammed directly where I wanted it too -- the eye of the helmet. I imagined it to be the human with the bloody cheek. The one that took Kallian and my brother and my family.

He had the chance to take my head off. I was going to make sure that he regretted that he didn’t kill me when he had the chance.

“A fine shot, Azoth. We’ll make a hunter of you yet,” Theron remarked, giving me a slow and deliberate nod.

…

I learned that my elven was poor according to the Dalish. To them, it was heavily accented and my pronunciation was wrong on a number of words. Still, they were gladdened to know I knew any elvish at all. They brought me around the campsite, one that they looked well dug into, and everywhere I went, there were eyes upon me. While I knew it was because I was an unfamiliar face in a rather tightknit clan, I was keenly aware of my white hair and the slash across my throat. Though, to be fair, I did see that both got their fair share of looks as well.

One of the first things that they showed me were the halla. I had seen plenty of horses in Denerim, oxen too, but it was the first time I had ever seen creatures like these. They were smaller than a horse, though not by much. Their pelt was as pure white as freshly fallen snow, and their horns were numerous and intricately engraved, the horns sweeping back, revealing about six points. They were penned in, but they hardly seemed to mind as they munched on grass.

A smaller halla looked in my direction and I saw some intelligence in its eyes. The halla clearly didn’t recognize me, but instead of baying or whatever halla did, it recognized that I meant it no harm so it simply went back to eating.

Maren, a red-headed Dalish elf who I found difficult to look at, happily told me the history of the halla and how to take care of them. That they were beasts that had their own god -- Ghilan'nain, goddess of the hunt, and were her favored animals because some hunter captured her, blinded her, and she had to get bailed out by another goddess, who sent her a halla because she couldn’t see.

They had served as the mounts for the Emerald Knights in the days of the Dales, I learned. And that you had to ask them to do anything as if they were a person rather than just a beast. Today, they were mostly used to pull the wagons that I learned were called aravels.

They also took me to a man named Paivel, who was the loremaster. I made the mistake of asking about the ancient elves and he was all too eager to just dump everything he had ever learned on me. All of it mostly blended together, to be honest, but I did learn a little about the Creators. There were nine of them -- five gods and four goddesses.

Elgar'nan was the All-Father, god of fatherhood and vengeance. Mythal, the goddess of motherhood and justice. Falon'Din, god of the dead and fortune. Dirthamen, the god of secrets and knowledge. Andruil, goddess of the hunt. Sylaise, goddess of arts and domestic affairs. June, god of craft. Ghilan'nain, goddess of the halla and nature.

Lastly, there was Fen’harel. The Dread Wolf.

I could barely make sense of it, but I didn’t care about the Creators. I grew up with the Chantry, but if I ever had any faith in the Maker, then I had lost it. The Maker, the Creators -- it was all the same to me. The Maker abandoned us. The Creators were locked away because of the Dread Wolf. The gods of elves and men were impotent and useless to me.

However, it was as I sat around the low fire that I learned something of note. “The clan will be moving?” I asked Theron, who nodded.

“The Sabrae clan roams through Ferelden for the most part, though we know no borders. The Tiger forest is a poor place to winter. There are many shemlen villages that will enter the forest out of desperation because they are ill-prepared for the winter. Inevitably, they will stumble upon us and when they do not return, the shemlen will come out in force to drive us away.”

Tamlen nodded, “There’s less blood spilled on both sides if we leave ahead of time. We’ll go north-east. Towards the mountains and we’ll winter there,” he informed me. The winter was always cold in Denerim, and that was in the city. Though, I imagined I would be warmer with a proper fur coat rather than a threadbare blanket as my family huddled around a fire that we only dared use a coal a day on.

“You came at a good time, da’len,” Paivel remarked at me. “A week later and we would have been gone. There are other clans that roam the forest, but I think you would have sooner been eaten than stumble over one of them.”

I grunted, accepting that we would be going on a journey. It was an odd thought considering I spent all of my life in the city, but it seemed by the end of the year, I would have traveled most of Ferelden. I was glad for it.

"What do the Dalish do?" I asked bluntly, looking at three painted elves. The camp was waking up and bustling along for another day, and while I watched some of them, I couldn't quite grasp the feel of what every day life was like. Paviel seemed to misunderstand my question.

"We search for lore that our people have forgotten. Temples and relics of Arlathan, our once great empire before the shemlen came," he said, and I nodded my head, understanding that much.

I still remembered those flashes that I saw when Gaxkang tried to take over my body. The floating cities, castles beyond anything man could make in impossible places. But…

My thoughts must have shone on my face. "You disagree with our purpose?" Tamlen questioned, his tone sharp as he seemed to take it as a personal insult. I felt a bit caught out and a bit sad. These people spent centuries searching for lost lore, but I had caught glimpses of that empire.

"I think that the past is the past. You can do anything about it. The only thing you can change… is the present and the future," I voiced my opinion, wishing that the elves still had our empire of old, or the Dalish kingdom bestowed upon us by Andrastae, but we didn’t. Arlathan had fallen thousands of years ago. The Dales near a thousand as well. I ached for their loss, but there did come a point when lamenting the past got in the way of the future.

"The past is our right, da'len. Our culture that was taken from us by a millennia of slavery. By reclaiming the past, we can claim the future," was the response from the Dalish Haren. Maybe he was right. I didn't know. The ancient elves clearly had something going on for them and I became very aware of the tome in my bag. The tomes. Was I being selfish by hoarding the knowledge for myself? Or prudent because I didn't yet know if I could trust these people?

In any case, my opinion was an unpopular one and I should have kept it to myself. But, in my heart, I knew the truth. I didn't care about Arlathan. Or the Dales. I cared about what came next for our people and getting revenge for every injustice done.

"We share the knowledge that we gather with the other clans at the Arlathvhen. Dalish from all over Thedas meet in a location that's decided on the previous one. Hundreds of clans are gathered up in a great celebration -- the last one was held in the Dales two years ago. I've never seen anything like it before," Theron admitted with a slight smile on his face as he recalled the memory.

It sounded interesting at the very least. There, I imagine, they made their plans to seize the new elven kingdom. From the sounds of it, the Dalish sent clans to every nation. Why wasn't quite clear, but there had to be some kind of plan. I just wasn't permitted to see it. That was fair. They've only known me for the day. In time, they would see I wanted to help them.

"As for the meantime -- we hunt. We travel. We search for ancient ruins of our people so we might learn from them," Paviel uttered, sounding at peace with the existence.

The conversation lapsed, but not for long when Merrill began to approach us, a staff in hand and a pleased smile on her face. Theron sat up straighter as she approached, trying seem taller. I really had to wonder… had I been that obvious to Kallian? I hoped so. If only she could have suspected my love, even if I had been too great of a coward to say it.

"Hullo! Good morning," Merrill greeted us, fluttering her eyelashes at the three of us but Theron in particular. "Oh, you don't look very well, Azoth. Did you not sleep well? I imagine sleeping with our clan is very different from the city! Is it true that you all live in stone houses? And there's not a tree to be seen? I would be very sad if I couldn't see any trees," she added morosely.

"No. We live in wood and mud houses. We do have a tree, though," I added quietly. The last time I saw it was burned into my memories. "Personally, I'm not used to seeing more than one at a time."

Merrill tittered and Theron did his best not to look annoyed. He didn't do a very good job of it. Tamlen caught my eye and offered a small shrug, hinting that I shouldn't take it personally. I decided that I wouldn't, but I couldn't deny I did find Merrill interesting, just not for the reasons Theron seemed to imagine. I had never met another mage before. Much less a mage that was a leader.

"You're… the First, right?" I questioned, putting the pieces together on how the clan functioned. The Keeper was a mage, and Merrill was her First. Which seemed to be an apprentice role.

"I am! You could be the Second," Merrill said, sitting down on a tree stump, completely oblivious to how everyone else stiffened at the remark. "We don't have a Second right now. I was brought into the clan a long time ago and raised to be Keeper Marethari's First, but there haven't been any other mages born into the clan, sadly."

She gave me a sweet smile as I looked at her with abject horror that my secret -- the one I held to my chest most tightly to the point not even my family or closest friend had been told -- was discovered and revealed so easily. I sputtered, "W-what? Me? Second, that's…"

"Do you not want to be the Second? Are you worried that the others will down on you for being a city elf? You don't need to. We're very friendly!" Merrill exclaimed while Theron dragged a hand over his face while Tamlen just blinked owlishly at me. It was Paviel that spoke up, his tone one of infinite patience.

"Merrill, when did you discover that Azoth is a mage?" He asked her and I had no clue what gave me away.

"When I healed him! The veins in his eyes ruptured and they were all red. It was rather scary looking," Merrill muttered, shivering for good measure before she finally looked at me. "The Fade rather likes you! And so do demons. Unfortunately. It caught me by surprise! You didn't say anything about-" Merrill caught herself, blinking at me a few times.

"Oh, did you want your magic to be a secret?" She asked, and I just sighed. "I'm sorry! I know, let's just pretend like I didn't say anything and we'll all forget all about it." Merrill decided, nodding to herself as she looked at Theron and Tamlen, who seemed far more used to her antics. "How are you this morning? Did you sleep well? I did."

Well… I suppose for better or for worse, my secret was out.