The Hinterlands, Kingdom of Ferelden, 9:41 Dragon
The Veil vibrated, drew back, and expanded again when Vivienne shattered the last demon that had emerged from the rift.
- Maker, how I could use the Herald of Andraste here right now! - roared a soldier of the royal guard who had joined the fight when he saw them battling a group of deserters and demons.
Elentari ran to the center of the contracted rift and watched the energetic fluctuations. A strong gust of wind wrapped around her, whipping her hair.
It was remarkable how she interpreted these wounds in the Veil now, after understanding what this "Veil" truly was.
The Dalish elves knew there had been a time when they were glorious, eternal, and unchanging, and they worshipped their gods for months at a time. Those lost ages—those fragments of knowledge by which the Dalish recognized themselves as "Keepers of the Lost Knowledge"—were a source of pride for the elven clans of Thedas, and what set them apart (in part) from the city elves.
In those times, all the land had been called Elvhenan, and at its heart rose the capital of the elven empire, Arlathan, a place of knowledge and debate, where the best among the ancient elves exchanged learning, greeted old friends, and settled disputes that had lasted millennia. Those were the elves' golden ages.
Solas had confirmed that, during his excursions through the Fade, he had encountered memories of those times. He told her Elvhenan had been a place where the waking world and the world of dreams stood in direct contact. Without a Veil, the forces of the Fade interacted constantly with the physical world, enabling a world of possibilities and magic.
He also explained that the physical world was ruled by the laws of causality and certainty, where events followed a logical sequence and outcomes were far more predictable. By contrast, the world of dreams was a fluid space, full of potentiality and uncertainty, with all its possible branches—nonlinear and chaotic. In that time, both worlds functioned intertwined with one another, coexisting without canceling each other out, affecting each other constantly.
And the Veil broke that balance.
He told her the Veil was a system of energetic resonance with a structure that worked like an interference field between the two worlds, separating them and ensuring that the dreams, emotions, and arcane currents of the Fade could not interact directly with the physical world—only through the mana of sleepers. And at that precise point, he explained, she was one of the few awake people in Thedas with the greatest capacity to interfere with that imbalance of the Veil. To truly understand how to tame it, one had to be able to perceive the energy "frequencies" proper to each world and, through will, act as a tether between them.
And that was what they had practiced the last times in Haven: increasing her perception of the Fade's energy frequencies.
Now, Elentari heard a rhythmic, delicate sound whenever magic took shape in the waking world. She had heard that melody before during spellcasting, but she had never understood why it was there as she did now…
When a rift tore open across the earth, Elentari perceived its melody; as they fought the demons it spat out, the rhythm shifted—but when they defeated them all and the Veil contracted slightly in that place, the song of the Fade contracted with it. It was something wondrous, something that hypnotized her every time. She was beginning to reinterpret magic and the Veil, as well as the arcane currents of the dreaming world. The Fade could communicate with those who knew how to listen. Solas had been right all along. And the Veil, far from being a barrier, was a dynamic structure that felt like a membrane with the capacity to control the energetic flow of interaction… a regulator of magical output.
For its part, the Mark on her palm was like an "anchor."
Solas had asked her to think of what an anchor did for ships. He told her the anchor was a device that could hold vessels in place on water, because it latched onto the seabed below and granted stability to the ships above the surface, preventing them from being pushed by winds or currents.
The Mark tried to work with the same simplicity of concept.
She was the one who bore the Mark—that is, a device capable of linking the world of dreams with the waking world—and it gave her the ability to close rifts and return stability to Thedas. She was the fixed, constant element between both worlds…
When Elentari began to perceive her Mark as a bridge between the two worlds, and when she could also distinguish their different melodies, she began to act on the rifts with precision. She no longer encountered distortions or excesses in the energetic pulse she manipulated, and more and more, closing them required less power, sealing them with greater accuracy. She truly was becoming good at mastering her Mark. And that made her happy… because before, she hadn't felt wiser, or better, or just—she had only known she was infinitely more capable of destroying. Now, at last, she was beginning to control that power and, perhaps, use it far better than before… to rebuild what was broken.
Elentari extended her left palm. The tingling barely brushed her and no longer felt uncomfortable as it had the first times. This time, she focused on the rhythm of the melody, connected to the rigid energy of the physical world, and interfered with the interference field, closing the rift and pushing the Fade's currents away from the waking world. The rift's chaotic green yielded, and the scrape in the Veil healed.
She smiled… she was understanding, little by little, that responsibility did not necessarily depend on intention, but on the power to affect. And she wanted to be responsible with Thedas.
- By Andraste's sweet blood! - exclaimed one of the soldiers—the only one who had not removed his helmet throughout the entire fight, unlike his three comrades, who had done so after defeating the enemies. - You're the Herald of Andraste!
The man, still holding shield and sword, sheathed them quickly. Then he approached her with visible enthusiasm and, once the rift finished closing completely, inclined his head in a sincere bow before clasping her hand with respect and precision.
- Who are you? - Vivienne approached, with the Iron Bull as a protective shadow.
- We're the king's guard. - answered one of the men without a helmet.
- That much is evident. - the mage replied. - Your heraldry gives you away, but what are four men doing alone, roaming these troubled lands?
- It is His Majesty's business. - said the one in the helmet. Then he turned to Elentari and placed a gloved hand on her shoulder. - Herald, know that your efforts will not be forgotten by the crown, and you will be considered an ally of King Alistair for the aid you are providing alongside the Inquisition." Then he turned and looked at the others. It was clear he was in command.
- Keep moving! - The three soldiers brought a fist to their chests and inclined their heads to their captain.
- One warning, Herald. - Elentari looked at him. - The arling of Redcliffe is under siege by rebel mages. If your path leads you there, be careful. Arl Teagan has been driven out of the castle.
- Teagan abandoned his people? - Varric asked.
- Arl Teagan would never abandon his own! - the helmeted man raised his voice, personally insulted by such an insinuation. - If he has done anything, it was to seek help in Denerim.
- So far, you're the first of the king's soldiers we've seen. - Solas remarked, and the irony could be heard in his tone.
The helmeted man crossed his arms.
- Soon you'll see the army march.
Vivienne laughed with disdain. - Oh, we await it eagerly.
- Thank you for the warning, ser. - Elentari intervened, stepping in front of her companions, who had grown rather aggressive in the exchange. "I will keep it in mind. And if my path takes me to Redcliffe, I will try to deal with that matter.
- May the Maker bless your actions, Herald.
The helmeted man inclined his head. Another gust of wind wrapped around them; he barked orders to his men, who regrouped and resumed their march. Solas and Vivienne took position on either side of her, while Bull and Varric did so behind.
- Unexpected. - the qunari said, lifting his gaze to the sky. - I think a storm is coming.
- Teagan didn't abandon his people during the Fifth Blight. Why would he now? - Varric asked, watching the guards as they walked away.
- The soldier already told you. - Solas mocked. - He didn't abandon them. He only went to take refuge in Denerim.
- What's happening in Redcliffe? - Bull asked.
- Fiona invited us there to speak about the free mages… - Elentari murmured.
- Didn't the arling of Redcliffe belong to Eamon during the Fifth Blight? - Vivienne asked. - Wasn't there a disaster among his people because of a blood mage? It was a topic of debate inside the Circles…
- My understanding is that Eamon decided to live in Denerim after that. - Varric replied. - And his son—the rightful heir to the arling—passed the duty to his uncle, Teagan… because, well, he was a mage.
Vivienne crossed her arms and pursed her lips in a gesture that mixed judgment and reserve. Elentari, almost reflexively, turned to Solas, expecting him to add something more. After all, he was Fereldan; he had lived in these lands during the events of the Fifth Blight. If anyone could add context, it was him.
Solas held her gaze for a brief instant… and chose to remain silent.
In truth, he had spent three days avoiding any direct confrontation with his companions, since the clash with the Iron Bull. For his part, the qunari also seemed determined not to provoke him. Neither of them showed any interest in rekindling the conflict or putting on another unnecessary display.
- And how do you know that, Varric? - she asked then.
- Oh, Leliana is an excellent storyteller when you catch her in the right mood and inside the tavern in Haven. - He laughed. - You see, apparently she met Flissa during the Fifth Blight, and they got along brilliantly. She drops by the tavern fairly often. And she always buys rounds of beer.
Elentari made a face. - Maybe I should stop by there once in a while.
- That would be great, boss! - Bull cut in. - I will, when we get back.
- That would be a horror, dear. - Vivienne crossed her arms. - You must be above the rest. You are the Herald. Your investiture demands it.
Elentari let out a sigh.
- Since we're investigating the Hinterlands, - Solas intervened - it may be a good opportunity to visit the Grand Enchanter Fiona.
- Yes. I'm curious now to know what's going on in Redcliffe. - she said. - Besides, it's on our way.
- If the rain doesn't stop us. - the qunari said. Then he grunted, but added nothing else.
- Well, then it's decided. - Varric chimed in.
- Oh, Solas! - Elentari turned to him with a smile. - The castle! I'll see the castle! - He smiled back and only nodded.
- I must admit it, Herald… - Vivienne hissed. - You make even the most delicate decisions look… impulsive.
Elentari watched her—she wasn't going to say anything—but then Solas crossed his arms and intervened.
- Our Herald's expression does not come from a trivial desire, Enchanter. - the mage arched a brow and watched him. - It is academic curiosity.
- Darling, my dear… - Vivienne turned to Elentari. - Does the apostate speak for you?
- I speak for myself. - He stepped forward, forcing her to look at him. Elentari placed herself between them.
- What Solas meant to clarify is that, recently, he told me Redcliffe Castle is the fortress that grants those lands the right to become an arling. That is what he meant when he mentioned academic curiosity. And well, truthfully, I'm curious to see it in person. You know, I'm Dalish, but he is from Ferelden.
- Very well. I'll be careful with my words, lest your lapdog apostate take offense…
Solas inhaled deeply. Elentari saw his jaw tighten and, without a word, she gave him a small gesture to let it go. He narrowed his eyes for a moment… and accepted.
Varric broke the tension with a laugh and set the pace, moving forward and inviting the others to follow. They did. Vivienne straightened and followed the dwarf with firm steps; Bull took long strides and positioned himself at her side. In the last few days, the qunari had shown remarkable respect toward the Imperial Enchanter, and, in practical terms, he did exactly what she told him. At that moment, he looked more like her guard than her companion.
Elentari rested a hand on Solas' arm. He looked at her; she smiled.
- Try to keep the peace… - she asked softly.
- Of course. - he replied, before moving on with the others.
She watched them walk away: her team. Different races, clashing cultures, incompatible beliefs… and yet, there they were, trying to impose some order in the middle of so much war.
Elentari ran to catch up.
The dwarf made an absurd joke, Bull answered with an even worse one, Vivienne rolled her eyes, Solas teased Varric… and everything flowed again, as it did every day.
As if, in the middle of the darkness, they were one.