#elfebruary2019

Rhaella plants her feet in preparation for spellcasting. “There goes our break,” she murmurs. Four figures emerge from the trees, two of them less human and more rock. Each step taken is a minor quake. While the two red-eyed Templars shoot arrows that shatter into sad splinters against Rhaella’s barrier. She raises her staff above her head, strikes the ground. Her hand shakes from the vibration as white lightning streaks across the ground in scorching zigzags. The first red-eyed Templar spazzes and crumples into a blackened sizzle. Another arrow flies at Rhaella’s head. A weak shot.  With a wave of her hand, it veers into the dirt beside her. The largest of the Red Templars charges at her. She fade steps out of his way, but the other archer is a better shot than the first. Three arrows come flying for her. She casts a spell that turns the arrow to dust but the second… “Rhaella!” Solas flings himself in front of her. “No!” she yells, and throws a barrier over his body. The next two arrows shatter against the magical shield. But the Templar she had outstepped earlier returns for an attack. He  barrels into Solas, knocking him down the hill. Cole appears out of nowhere and strikes the brute in the back. He falls. Meanwhile, Rhaella obliterates the last with another current of lightning. She takes in heavy breaths as she surveys the damage done. “Thank you, Cole,” she says. She notices then that Solas is missing. Oh shit, oh shit! Her pulse increases as her eyes dart around. Where’s Solas? “He went for a tumble, I think,” Cole says. He pulls a rag out of his pocket and cleans his daggers. His calm has her off balance, at first. She blinks. Then his words sink in and horror rises in her chest. She runs to the edge of the cliff and sees Solas crumpled at the bottom. She cups her hands around her mouth. “Solas!” she yells, but he doesn’t move. Her heart flutters in panic. She eyes a path down the ravine and makes her way to his side, slipping and sliding along the way. His  face is covered in splotches of blue and purple. Bruises color the skin on his wrists. Rhaella chokes back her tears and pulls his head into her lap. “Damn you! I would’ve been fine. You didn’t need to try and—.” Her voice breaks. She gathers what little mana she has conserved and the soft green hue of her restoration magic flows into his skin. The bruises on his face begin to fade away. His freckles grow clearer with each pulse of her magic. Some minor bruising remain but nothing that won’t heal easily with a potion. She notices his satchel next to him, contents sprawled out on the ground. She snatches up the lyrium potion and downs it. It’s cool on her tongue and she feels an instant surge in her mana. She pulls from it again and lets her magic do it’s work. A rogue tear slips down her cheek and she wipes it away. “Come on, come on,” she urges him. “Please wake up.” The remaining bruises shrink to nothing. Solas’ eyes flutter as he comes to. Rhaella lets out a breath of relief. “Thank the creators! I was terrified you’d never wake up!” “I’m fine, vhenan.” “But you didn’t look fine. I can’t believe I let you get thrown down a hill. I’m so sorry.” “Perhaps I was just taking an opportunity for a quick nap.” “Well you have horrible timing!” She laughs despite wanting to cry, and kisses his forehead. “You’re something else, Solas. But I’m glad you’re alright.” “And I have you to thank for that.”