#solavelli

Cassandra’s shout came after a loud grunt of pain and Eli turned to see her down on one knee, tendrils of electricity grounding down her body to her feet.  The shade was struggling up and so was the Dalish woman, her face tensed in a grimace of pain and rage as she laboriously raised her staff to strike Cassandra again.

“Atish’an, lethallan!  We are not your enemy!” Eli cried, reaching up to pull her hood down off her head.  The woman looked over, startled by hearing her language, and Eli noted how the sun glinted in pale green eyes, watching her take in the tattoos on Eli’s face.  “She is with me - she will not hurt you!”

The shade’s dying call had them both looking over to Cassandra, who stood from dealing the killing blow and turned straight back to the woman.

“Are there any more?”

Sympathy clenched in Eli’s gut as the woman said nothing, her body tense and ready for flight.  It hadn’t been long since she herself had looked at Cassandra that way, too.

“I do not think there are more, Seeker.” Solas said from beside her.  “Certainly none that I can sense.”

Eli relaxed, hopping over the last of the boulders and onto the soft grass where the woman lay.

“Are you hurt?”

“She is a templar.”

“No, she is not.  I know she looks like one.  She’s with me.”

“She called you ‘Herald’.”

Eli watched her push herself to sitting and then to standing, leaning heavily on her staff, nerves blooming in her stomach. When the woman, younger than Eli had first thought, turned her pale eyes on her again she almost felt like squirming, shame rising to bloom in her cheeks.

“Yes.  She did.”

“As in ‘Herald of Andraste’?  I have heard that one of our own has been given such a name by the shemlen.”

“Yes.  That is me.  I am Ellana, of Clan Lavellan.”

“Andaran atish’an, then.  I will admit, I wasn’t expecting to find another of Dalish blood here.  My name is Mihris.”

Eli smiled, the nerves dissipating.  Mihris had a lilt to her voice she had missed dearly, for all that Solas had a similar hint to his own accent.  She spared her companions a glance, but they seemed content to hold back.  When Eli looked back around, Mihris caught her eye.  “I have attacked one of your acquaintances then?”

“Well, yes you did.”

“You consider her such?”

“I consider her a friend, actually.  Despite how we disagree sometimes.”

That brought the young woman’s eyebrows up as well as Cassandra’s.

“Well, shemlen.  I hope you can accept my apologies.  You look very like a templar like that.”

“I am not a templar, though I do not contest the confusion.  I am also aware that you are quite right to be wary of templars, mage as you are.  Particularly now.  Your apology is accepted.”

Mihris bowed her head and turned back to Eli.  Whatever regret she apparently had for Cassandra had already dissipated.

“I see by your weapons you come ready for battle - perhaps we find a common enemy in these demons?”

Eli lifted her staff behind her and began to strap it to her harness.

“Are you fighting the demons on your own?”

Mihris made a disgusted noise.

“There is little use fighting demons when there will always be more and I have no way to close the rifts…”

She trailed off, head cocked at Eli, who nodded.  “Amazing.  Regardless, I’ve heard of elven artefacts that measure the veil - finding them could help predict where they may form, I thought.  There is supposed to be one nearby, but I wasn’t expecting so many demons.”

Eli laughed a little, ignoring Solas’ pointed look.

“Actually that’s why we’re here as well - my friend Solas has also heard of these artefacts.”

Mihris glanced over at him and something uncomfortable shifted across her face before she turned back.

“Oh.  Well I believe one to be just inside these ruins.  Could you help me reach it?”

“We can reach it together - if it works we think there may be more of them we can use.”

“And we’re pretty damn good at killing demons, so definitely able to help you there.”

Mihris looked over at Varric, her beautiful eyes opening a little in wonder as she leant close to Eli, voice a whisper.

“Is that a dwarf from Orzammar, or….”

Eli laughed again, but pointedly raised her voice so Varric could hear them.

“Varric is from Kirkwall, lethallan.  You should hear him complain when we take him anywhere near a cave.”

“Hey, not all dwarves like the feeling of tonnes of rock over their head.  That’s just common sense.  Varric Tethras, by the way.  A pleasure.”

Eli let them introduce themselves, oddly tense.  Only perhaps not so oddly, given what she suspected about Solas’ views.  It did not help that Mihris’ greeting to him was as terse as his curt nod in reply.  Wonderful.

They took a few moments to take some water and pat themselves down after the fight with the mercenaries, although it was clear Varric’s shirt and coat were utterly ruined, a fact he was happy to point out, loudly.  Solas kept separate, sipping at his canteen and watching Mihris warily.  She also seemed glad for the break and came to sit, obviously and easily, next to Eli.  For a moment Eli just revelled in the smell of halla leather and elfroot, of slightly sweat-tinged ironbark armour and the natural, earthy tang in the air that was Mihris’ magic.  It was almost too much, too brief and sharp a picture of home when she had resigned herself to not seeing or feeling it again for a very long time.  It wasn’t easy, being away from her Clan.  Curious, she asked Mihris where hers was and watched her grow suddenly nervous, looking away from her.

“I was…am…First of Clan Virnhen.”

“Virnhen?  Didn’t one of your hunters win at archery at the last Arlathvhen?”

The joy and recognition Eli hoped for didn’t come, only the slightest flinch.

“I don’t really…hunting has never been something that interested me.  Anyway, I was away on business for my Clan out here and saw the great tear in the Veil.  I had learned about these artefacts before and certainly know more about the veil than any shemlen, so I thought I’d try to help, that’s all.”

“Ma harel, dal’en.”

Solas’ voice was quiet, but there was a note of steel to it that reminded Eli forcefully of Keeper Ista when she was disapproving of something Eli had done.  Mihris’ head jerked up at him, shock on her face before something ugly crossed over it like a shadow and she bowed her head, closing her eyes.  Eli took in the suddenly hunched shoulders, the lines across the young woman’s face and gently put an arm around her.  Mihris drew her body into herself for one more moment before letting it go, her voice barely a whisper.

“They were all killed. By…by a demon our Keeper was foolish enough to summon.”

She got up and there was rage in her face where there had been grief before.  “I am all that remains of Clan Virnehn.  I was searching for a Clan to take me in when the Breach appeared.  I just want to help!”

She was humiliated, this much was obvious.  That her humiliation was transforming to rage so quickly set off old warnings in Eli’s memory, all with Keeper Ista’s voice.  She knew Cassandra would have noted the pulses of magic at Mihris’ clenched fists, just barely contained from bursting into her element of choice in her anger.  So she stood, remaining slow and calm, gently placing her hands on Mihris’ shoulders, though she kept their bodies apart.

“I am so sorry, Mihris.  Truly I am.  I know what it is to have a Clan, the idea of losing it is almost too much to bear.”

“And yet here you are, with shemlen and a new Clan.” Mihris spat, pulling away.  “I did not ask for your sympathy, Ellana.  I did, however, ask for your help in finding something that will set this right.  If the shemlen cannot clear up their own mess, then perhaps it is up to the People to do so.”

Eli didn’t argue with her and held up her hand to stop Cassandra from where she had taken breath to speak.  This was neither the time nor the place.

“And we will help, Mihris.  Do not be angry with us.  Come, you said it was this way?”

Mihris looked at her a little guiltily as she caught up with her, but Eli just smiled and shrugged.  She hadn’t really expected another Clan to be nearby, but it hurt her to see what losing one could do to someone.  Keeper Ista would be proud of her, putting her own pain to one side to be wary for a mage pushed a little too close to the edge.  She could feel no corruption there, but she had found the woman fighting demons and only hoped that the folly of Virnehn’s Keeper (Thalrinn?  Thelhen?  June’s wooden codpiece but she’d alway been awful with names) was keeping Mihris well away from summoning demons of her own.

They walked together in a slightly stilted silence.  Eli didn’t want to contemplate what looks were passing between Varric and Cassandra.  Wanted to contemplate even less Solas’ thoughts.  

The path wound between broken pieces of arches, walls - there was even what looked like an old gargoyle worn with age to almost nothing.  She wished she had time to sit and sketch them, despite her extremely dubious art skills. Perhaps she could get Solas to draw them for her once they’d found the artefact.

“Thank you for accompanying me, Ellana.” Mihris suddenly said beside her, quietly.  Eli reached between them and took her hand, holding on gently as the woman tensed and then decided to relax, threading their fingers together to give Eli’s hand a tentative squeeze before letting it go.  The pain of loss was still very raw then, to be so averse to simple physical affection.  Still, the squeeze suggested she wanted out of this pain, perhaps even saw a path to that end.  Eli hoped so.

The trail ended in a short bend that led through two arches that were still standing.  It made Eli smile, gently trailing a hand up the loose stones and letting the dust coat her palm.  She loved old things.  The path led to what had clearly been an entrance into some kind of structure built into the cliff, but something had caused either the cliff above or the building in front of it to collapse, rendering the entrance useless.  They approached it gingerly, but it seemed like the cliff was safe.

“That’s going to be a pain in the ass to lift out, that boulder’s larger than Cassandra.”

Cassandra kicked Varric gently in response.  He was right, though - unless they could find some way to move the rubble they had come here for nothing.  Eli had occasionally been known to try and move things like this with magic, but she didn’t know if she could manage something of this size.  Mihris, kicking the stone with barely contained frustration, had clearly come to the same conclusion, snarling a little and turning back to them.  

“All this is for naught if we don’t shift this now.  A focus of magical energies should be able to move the stones.”  To Eli’s surprise, she then turned to Solas, something hard and arrogant in the curl of her lip.  “You, flat-ear - can you manage it?”

The slur shocked Eli enough to still her for a moment, shame and rage buzzing down her arms to the tips of her fingertips in readiness for the fight to come.

Only there wasn’t one.  To her relief and dismay all in one, Solas said nothing but came forward gently and raised his hands, blue tendrils of flame caressing his arms before reaching out to the stones like a lover, wrapping around them and gently lifting them.  It was only when they had settled that Eli realised that he had formed them back to their original position as the main archway of the entrance.  It looked effortless, like it had cost him nothing.  Rage settled her mouth into a hard line and she was about to turn to Mihris when Solas’ hand reached for his staff behind him.

“Demons.”

Cassandra darted forward, sword drawn, the minimum amount of time possible with Solas standing unprotected.  The rest of them followed, Varric and Mihris tucking into the corners of the rectangular entrance-hall whilst Eli and Solas flanked the door.  The shade and its wraiths were thin and papery in comparison to those they had found outside.  What with Mihris’ additional bursts of lightning, harsh and unforgiving, they were felled quickly and without too much problem.  Eli breathed to calm herself and then turned to Mihris, who had already started forward.  She stood in front of her, butt of her staff on the ground, making it clear she was not about to move.  Irritation flickered over Mihris’ face and Eli leant close so she could almost feel the young woman’s breath on her cheeks.

“What are you….”

“We do not use that term in my Clan, Mihris.” Eli said, her voice low and strong.  “We believe it gives those who are not of the Dalish the impression that we think they are lesser than we are simply because of their choices.  Which we do not.  I am not here to question the tradition of your Clan, that is not my place.  But you are not with your Clan here.  And I will not hear it spoken in my presence again.  Are we clear?”

Mihris’ eyes had gone wide, the slanted sunlight casting her face in strange shadows.  She was frozen for a moment, eyes darting to where Eli assumed Solas was and then back to her.  Then she nodded. Eli nodded once in return and then turned away, walking away from the light and into the gloom at the back of the hallway.  She had to pass Solas to do so and could see him watching her, could imagine the affronted downward curve of his eyebrows so clearly in her mind that she put out a hand to stop him the second she saw his chest lift in breath to speak.  “I know.  You did not ask me to protect your honour.  If it makes you feel better, think of it as a philosophical difference between two foolish Dalish, nothing to do with you at all.”

He didn’t move as she passed him, heading for a large metal chest at the back and setting down her staff next to it as she crouched to try and heave it open.  Anything to keep herself busy at this moment, the silence from behind her was deafening.

“That is not what I was going to say.”

His voice was quiet and close.

“Well what were you going to say, then?”

“I…am unsure, now.  Have you found anything of interest?”

She closed the lid with a clang.

“Not really.”

She stood and cast her eyes around.  There were two empty entryways leading to stairs into the darkness of the ruin, nothing more.  Whatever statue had welcomed in visitors was long worn, so far gone she had no idea what it had once tried to be.  It was often such in these places.  Feeling something tickling at the back of her mind where her magic lay, she looked around again, feeling drawn to a metal lantern hung on the wall next to the arch that led to one of the staircases.  There was something cold about it and strangely familiar.

“Solas?”

“Yes?”

“That lantern.  It feels a little like that one that you found near the first base camp out of Haven.”

“Oh?”

He came over and studied it for a moment before looking at her, slightly surprised.  “You are correct, it is of the same category of object.  Although this is far older.  You could try to light it with a normal flame and it never would.”

There was something in his face that told Eli there was more and she played to it, glad to be doing something other than fighting with her own kind.

“But….”

He took the bait.  Of course he did.

“But a magical fire may do it.”

“Can you light it?”

“I think perhaps that should be your honour.”

“I don’t know how.  Let me watch you?”

“Hm.  Very well.  Come.”

She pulled closer to him, just by his left shoulder.

“Which bit of you should I watch?”

She felt him hesitate slightly as he raised his arm and could have sworn she saw a brief flash of a smile on his shadowed face.

“…my hand.”

Oh.  So he did remember last night then.  She watched him raise his arm, his fingers curling and rotating like he was gently scooping up the fire from a pool.  She felt the tendrils of it echo up to his shoulder, merging with whatever magic he held and returning back to the lantern, laden with the essence of him intense enough she could almost feel it through the cotton of her shirt.  A beautiful, cool blue flame leapt from the base, burning bright and fierce.  It was entrancing and she beamed up at him in delight, a small smile on his face as he looked down at her.

“That is not ordinary fire.” Varric pointed out helpfully from behind them.  Solas rolled his eyes.

“I have not seen it before outside of the Fade, though I have heard of it.  It is called veilfire - a sort of sympathetic magic.  A memory of flame in this world that burns where the Veil is thin.”

Eli idly wondered if he would mind her telling him she could listen him talk about magic for a whole day at a time.  He probably would.  Mihris was coming up to the fire, reaching out with her hand.

“Does it burn like normal fire?  It does not feel hot.”

“No,” Solas replied, gently lifting his hand to stop hers without looking at her.  “And neither would you feel the burn until it is too late.”

He turned to look at Eli and she suddenly felt strangely proud, like when she and Darrel had been competing for Keeper Ista’s favour as young students.  “Veilfire does not obey normal laws, but now that it is kindled, it can be manipulated.  Take it.”

“What?  How?”

“Open yourself to the memory it holds.  Take it.”

The persuasive whisper of his voice made her grin in excitement and she reached out to the flame, doing as he suggested.  With a small gasp of surprise she felt the fire respond and her hand naturally begin to curl around something unseen.  Letting the fire lead her, she found herself grasping what came into being as some kind of torch, the veilfire burning bright from the top of it like she’d held a normal torch up to a standard flame.  Strange carvings and markings curled from her fingers to the flame and back again, some not-quite real metal holding the veilfire in a basin at the top.

“It remembers being lit like this,” she asked, slightly breathlessly, “So now it can be?”

“Precisely.  Technically any one of us could do it, though the technique needed is now more often associated with a mage.”

“So what - we’re taking the magic fire with us now?” Varric asked.  Eli grinned at him.

“Oh yes.” she replied, turning back to Solas.  “Although, I feel you are probably the one who will know best where it needs to be.”

He nodded and reached out to where she held the torch.  If her skin tingled from where their fingers brushed over one another, then that was clearly just another side effect of the magic.  If he caught her eye as he drew the torch gently away from her, well that just meant he had noticed this definitely magical side effect, too.

“Which way?” Cassandra asked, ever practical.

They all looked to Mihris, who sneered a little and looked pointedly at Solas.

“It seems your friend here has more knowledge of these places than I.”

Eli forced a laugh, trying to make it sound empathetic as she smiled.

“Do not fret, Mihris.  Solas tends to know a lot more than we do about most things to do with magic and the Fade.  One gets used to it.”

Mihris’ face softened slightly and by the time she turned again to Solas Eli was relatively sure she was genuinely asking his opinion, even if only for politeness.  That is all she required, for now.  Solas, rather pointedly if Eli was any judge, cleared his throat.

“I cannot claim knowledge of every elven ruin, but if I am correct then this is quite a standard layout.  The two paths should converge at a lower hallway.”