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From the Ashes: Burn It All Down (ch. 5)
🕑 Added 2022-09-18 15:10:20 +0000 UTC"Azoth? Are you there? It's… it's time for the funeral," I heard Soris say. I heard him but I gave no indication of it. I sat on a bed that wasn't mine. I didn't really know where I was. Just that I wasn't in my home. I managed to get myself dressed in my finest clothing, though. Mother had been stitching it in her own time and hiding it at Kallian's house so I would be none the wiser. A dark violet tunic that matched the color of my eyes with white thread embroidery along the seams. A pair of black trousers fit me well, though they were a bit short. My boots cover up my ankles, though.
My head hung low when Soris entered the back, swinging open a door. I heard him take in a sharp breath. I knew why because I was gazing down into a bit of polished bronze.
My black hair was bleached white, the same with my eyebrows. I wasn't really sure why, but the color in my hair was gone. All the while the whites of my eyes were red with blood. While dark bags did hang underneath my eyes from a sleepless night, it wasn't that they were bloodshot. The veins had ruptured when I wept tears of blood and while everything was no longer tinted red, my purple irises seemed to rest in a pool of blood. That would fade in time, but it was startling to look at nonetheless.
"Azoth… I…" Soris tried, trying to think of something to say but he was coming up short. What was there to say? He knew how I felt, probably better than any other. His family had been killed in a prior purge, and Kallian had been his friend as much as mine.
"I don't think they'd recognize me," I said, sitting up and tossing the bit of bronze on the bed. Soris paled when our eyes met, his darting to the floor. He agreed with me, I think. I pushed myself up on two feet, the task taking greater strength than I wanted to admit. "Come on. Let's go say goodbye," I said, brushing past Soris, who watched my back. I could feel his shame radiating off him for failing to say something that would magically make things better. He shouldn't feel ashamed.
There really was just nothing that could be said.
Stepping out of the small home, I was greeted by the stench of death, smoke, and rain. It still lingered in the air. The dirt roads were mud once again after a heavy downpour had saved the alienage from burning down. Several buildings had been lost, some with families still in them, but the rain had put out the fire. The gray clouds above hinted that there would be more rain today as the dark gray clouds churned like my thoughts while a rumbling of thunder could be heard in the distance.
The people of the alienage were out in force as we gathered for the funeral. Almost as soon as I stepped out, I had gazes turned to me and whispers muttered in hushed breaths. Along the main road, everywhere there was room, funeral pyres were gathered. Before the rain, building were knocked down to make a fire break and now that same wood would be the fuel for the pyres. Dalish elves, I heard, buried their dead and planted a tree on top. It sounded nice, I thought.
"If that damn girl hadn't fought back…" I heard an elf muttered morosely to himself, on his knees before a pyre with his hands over his face. "If that damn girl hadn't fought back, then none of this would have happened. My child… my child…!" The elf wept as I walked by, Soris with me. The words washed over me as I headed to where I saw Shianni and Cyrion Tabris standing before a pyre, both looked like they could hardly recognize me.
I wasn't surprised that blame was being slung around. The dead were still being counted, but two days later and the number surpassed five hundred. It was the worst purge on the alienage in more than a decade. People were looking for someone to blame for their loss. Kallian and Adaia and my brother became easy targets. For, how dare Kallian defend herself from being raped and murdered. How dare her mother fight to protect her daughter? How dare my brother try to protect family friends?
My heart clenched painfully as I looked at the pyre. The bodies were wrapped with cloth -- a cursory bestowed upon us by Revered Mother Boann -- the only member of the Chantry that was willing to venture into the alienage. Despite it, I had no trouble picking out my sisters' bodies. They were smaller than everyone else on the pyre. The ones next to them were likely my parents. Then my brother. My grandfather. Adaia…
Kallian.
Revered Mother Boann looked at me, her expression tightening with sadness. I certainly stood out in a crowd, I suppose. I stood before the pyre, looking upon the corpses of my family and it felt like every emotion I had was scooped out of my chest. I just felt completely empty. All the while my mind churned like the skies above. Would Kallian had been killed if she had Fang with her? Would Adaia have been able to fight them off if it had been in her home instead of a secret hole in the sewers? If I talked Aiezn out of working for a pirate, would he still live? Would my family?
It felt like if things were just a little different, then everyone would still be alive and I wouldn't feel like a corpse with a heartbeat.
"We are gathered here today to mourn the loss…" Mother Boann began, starting the funeral. I should pay attention. It was important to sending them off, but the words went in one ear and out the other. I gazed unblinkingly at the corpses of everyone I had ever loved, the image of them naked, beaten, and hanging dead from a tree was burned in my memory. I saw it every time I closed my eyes. It was like an oppressive force forbidding me from thinking of anything else other than how horrible their passing was. How much it must have hurt. How they suffered.
How I wasn't there to stop it or die alongside them because I would have vastly preferred to be on that pyre than still draw breath right now.
The funeral progressed quickly out of fear of the rain. A piece of wood was pressed into my hand and I realized it was Cyrion that gave me it. I looked at him and there was pain in his eyes as he wrote freely, "My daughter loved you, Azoth. She… she just…" he trailed off, getting choked up and unable to continue.
It hurt. More than slashing my own throat or having my mind invaded. That knowledge hurt more than it all.
Nodding slowly to show that I understood, I accepted the touch as others took theirs. It wasn't as one, but at the same general time, we stepped forward and lit the tinder underneath the main pieces of wood. The fire caught quickly, spreading through the tinder and burning at the logs above. The stench of burnt hair and meat quickly filled the air while thick oily smoke drifted upwards. No one said anything about it. Everyone endured the smell as five hundred of our own were burnt as one.
Humans, I heard, each got their own pyre. That way the ashes that were collected were undoubtedly theirs. Mass pyres were reserved for criminals. And elves. The flames caught the bodies on fire, burning away the cloak used to hide their appearance, but the flames were too thick to make anyone out. The bodies were consumed by the fire over the course of minutes, the pyre burning down for more fuel. As the pyres collapsed, the bodies were reduced to ash and bone.
I couldn't tell anyone apart, I thought to myself, searching the ashes and glowing embers. I couldn't tell where Nessira or Nikkia started or ended. I couldn't tell my parents' ashes from my brothers. Or Kallian's from her mother. People lingered to weep as the Revered Mother read the funeral rites and sang a hum. How empty the words sounded. How empty they felt.
Like my darkening mood, the sky did so as well and the first drops of rain began to fall from the sky. The ashes were gathered to be scattered into the ocean, as was the alienage tradition. But, even as they were gathered, I didn't love from my spot.
"Azoth?" Shianni spoke up, making my gaze slide to her. Her expression was a mask of concern, along with Soris next to her. "You… Uncle Cyrion said you could stay with us. Said you would have been family one day anyway," she muttered before grimacing, realizing she shouldn't have said that.
"It's hard to believe they're gone," Soris whispered. "I'm so sorry, Azoth. I… if you want to talk, I-" he started, only to fail when he saw my expression. It didn't move. They were expressions of concern but I don't think I had it in me to do much as frown or cry.
Staying with Cyrion could be nice. I always liked him. I still had my job at the docks too. I could make a good wage there with a little help from my magic. Maybe I could look to get married in a few years. Perhaps starting a family of my own would fill the void that replaced my heart. I knew that despite how it felt, this wasn't the end of my life. I could keep going as I had been and… that…
I think that's what my family would've wanted.
"My share of the money is scattered in the straw of my bed," I told both of them, catching them by surprise. "You can do what you want with it." I told them, making them sputter. They couldn't figure out why I was giving them four sovereigns.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. I didn't have it in me. I just didn't. I couldn't put my head down, continue on as I have, sleeping in the same room that had once belonged to the girl that I loved, walking past the tree that my family had been hung from… I was too weak. I didn't have it in me to accept it. I didn't have it in me to do nothing.
"Azoth, what are you doing? What are you thinking?" Soris said, sounding concerned.
I didn't really even know. I just knew I couldn't stay here. I… "I'm going to find the Dalish," I decided, my voice low and hard. Most elves that left the alienage either came back embarrassed or they didn't come back at all. Most thought that they died on a fool's errand but some believed that they had managed to find the Dalish and lived amongst them -- living in the wilderness, free of humans and the alienage. There, people spoke, were roaming bands of elves that fought against kingdoms to make a new home for themselves.
"We don't even know if they're real," Shianni protested with a small shake of her head. "You're talking nonsense, Azoth. Come home with us. Lay down. Think this through before you do anything rash."
"Shianni, Soris… goodbye," I told them both before I walked past them both. I knew I should say goodbye to others. Cyrion deserved a farewell. I hoped that Shianni would take care of him. He was going to need it.
Shianni made to stop me, but Soris held her back. Despite it all, I think he understood. Perhaps better than anyone else. Or perhaps he was expecting me to come limping back into the alienage after a week or two. I had never left the city before. I had no idea where I would find the Dalish, or, like Shianni said, if they were real or not. For all I knew, they could be made up by city elves because we liked the idea that there were members of our kind that didn't live with a boot on their necks.
But I didn't care. There was no doubt in my mind. I would find them. Even if I had to search for them at the edge of Thedas itself, I would find them. I would join them in their quest to free our kind and to create a new home for the elven people.
I would allow for no other alternatives.
I didn't return home. I didn't have the courage to do that, even as I prepared to leave the city of Denerim. The only things I grabbed were from my hidey-hole. Keening Blade, primarily. And with disinterest, I unsealed the other polymorphed bone marbles to reveal three things -- a strong box filled with Runes, a bag filled with nothing, and a pair of boots that didn't make any noise when I dropped them. I thought the runes would be the most useful of the three, given that they could be used to enchant items that they were placed onto.
However, when I went to pack everything up, I realized that the pack didn't get any heavier. It was then I realized what it was -- a bag of holding. A backpack that could be filled to the absolute brim with items, but it wouldn't feel any heavier or fill up until its upper most limit was reached.
I shoved the Keening Blade in it. And the shield as well. Along with the boots, strong box, tomes… my gaze lingered on the ironwood weapon called Fang. It belonged to Adaia, but Kallian had loved the weapon. She wielded it every chance she got. She'd cook with it if she thought she could get away with it. By rights, it should go to Cyrion. But with a hand that only trembled a little, I took the ironwood blade and shoved it into my backpack. It was a theft, but I couldn't give it away. It was the last thing I had to remember her by.
Stepping out of the hidey-hole, I closed the entrance one final time before I started to walk. No one bothered me as I made my way through the docks. I saw no sign of Captain Isabela, but I did see Adam, who was working as usual. I made sure he didn't see me as I made my way out of the docks, over the King's Bride, through the Market, and I caught glimpses of the gate to Denerim. It was hardly the first time I had seen it, but it was the first time I did with the intention of leaving. The gate was large, needlessly so, and I saw guards killing about and half-heartedly checking wagons as they entered the city.
"Oh, looks like the Dalish are going to get another knife-ear," I heard a guard remark as I approached the gate, seeing a long road ahead of me. It was the imperial highway from back when the Tevinter Imperium controlled the known world. A thousand years later, the stone road was still being used as the highways that connected the most important places in Ferelden.
"Shut it," I heard another guard say. "That's 'em. The one that scared the shit out of Devan."
"Looks like a bleedin' demon with those eyes," Another remarked, all three of them openly ogling me as I approached. "Oi, rabbit -- was it true that you cried blood when-" the guard started, but he quickly cut himself off when I looked at him as I passed by. He seemed more embarrassed than anything when I walked by without saying a word, muttering a wish for a pox upon me as I took my first steps out of Denerim.
It felt odd having nothing but wilderness before me. I snuck up into the walls on occasion, so the sight wasn't that foreign to me, but it was still odd.
I didn't look back as I began my journey, leaving Denerim and my home behind me.
…
I had vastly underestimated how big the outside world was. Or, rather, how small Denerim was. I hadn't thought to pack a thing beyond my weapons and tomes. It was when the sky finally began its downpour in the middle of the night after a long day of teasing rain that I realized that I might be in over my head. I used Mold Earth to make a shelter for myself off the main road, and I was forced to consider my magic in other ways to sustain myself until I found a Dalish clan.
One such spell was Goodberry. Using my magic upon the soil, the magic itself acted as a catalyst for a seed of any kind and from that seed would grow a goodberry plant that would produce a single goodberry. Unlike a normal plant that drew nourishment from the soil, it grew nourishment from magic itself. I could make it produce more than a single berry by feeding it mine, but if I were to plant it into the dirt, how quickly it could produce would be determined by how thin the Veil was, the curtain that separated the world and the Fade.
I munched on one as I gazed out of my shelter, protected from the rain. In front of me was nothing but darkness and despite the chill in the air, I didn’t dare make a fire. Nor did I dare to sleep for more reasons than I cared for.
After that first night, I set out a little wiser. I stocked up on goodberrys because with just a single one, I would get the nourishment that I needed, even if it did leave my belly feeling empty. All the same, I pressed onward and tried to admire the sights. Nature was very, very, very different than the city. I could see why so many elves ended up coming back after just a day or two. It almost felt like I had stepped into a completely different world, and I was able to cheat with magic.
“I was lucky,” I muttered to myself after my third day of walking. Prestidigitation took care of my appearance and Mending my clothes. I never realized how lucky I was until it was all gone. Because of my family, I never really had to worry about a meal. Naturally, there were lean times that we shared with the alienage when humans hoarded the food for themselves, meaning that the prices for bread and fish were higher than they already were, but that just meant I got to eat a little less.
I had never gone hungry before. Really hungry. The kind of hungry that Mum used to tell me stories about to get me to finish off every last bite even though I was full to the point of bursting. I also never had to worry about shelter. Money had always been a concern, but it wasn’t like I ever needed to actually spend money for anything. What I had taken for granted the most, however, was never feeling lonely.
It had taken me a day to realize it, but never in my life had I been completely alone like I was when walking down the Imperial Highway and getting a few hours of sporadic sleep off the road. The closest I had ever gotten to being alone was when I was by myself in a room, but there had always been people around. I could hear them. All I had to do was shout and someone would check on me in the alienage.
It was an alien feeling to me and without tolerance for the loneliness, I felt its sting all the more clearly. The feeling was somewhat abated by the villages that dotted around the Imperial Highway but not by much. I did feel my world growing a little with each one I passed through.
First and foremost, it wasn’t just Denerim that didn’t like elves. No one had greeted me with violence, but each village I came to greeted me with distrust and they were less than helpful when it came to my search for the Dalish. The villages of Krinshaw and Morewold did seem to think that the Dalish were real and that they were bandits that ate children. And any elf that wanted to join them was a bandit waiting to happen.
Additionally, I learned a bit about the surrounding territories of Denerim and Ferelden in a way that I never bothered with before. Back in the alienage, the alienage was all that I ever needed to know. Now, I learned that Eastwood was land to the west of Denerim that, despite the name, was more rolling hills than forests. It still had trees -- the world outside of Denerim had more trees that I thought possible and some of them were even grander than the Vhenadahl -- and that had been a real shock.
South of Denerim was mostly mountains that stood proudly in the distance with rolling hills leading up to them. That bannorn was called Dragon’s Peak. No idea why, but common sense suggested dragons. I hoped I didn’t see any of them. I heard they were extinct, but the whole reason why we lived in the Dragon Age was that someone spotted a dragon. I was hoping that whoever it was had just been a nutter and they really were all dead.
A lot of Ferelden was made of mountains. Or forests. Or forests on mountains.
I was heading to one such forest that I saw on my fourth day of walking. It was called the Brecilian forest, which apparently took up a whole chunk of Ferelden. It was a little difficult to conceive of a forest that big, but seeing was believing. The Imperial Highway chose to go around it, but there was a dirt path that went around the other end. I chose to go down neither road and entered the forest as soon as I reached it.
It was there, after another three days of wandering the forest, that I realized that not all travel was created equal. Traveling on a nice, even, stone road was vastly preferable to the uneven ground of the forest where everything was blocked off by shrubbery that concealed roots to trip over. Or when I got hopelessly lost when the canopy of leaves above from the grand trees blocked out the sun and the sky entirely except for streaks of light that managed to pierce through.
It got me desperate enough to try a spell that I honestly didn’t think would work. I channeled magic to my throat, looking up at a bird that was perched upon a branch. I swallowed thickly before I did, realizing that it had been more than a week before I had spoken. “You there. Bird,” I spoke, but what came out of my mouth was a caw and a squawk. I think the bird was about as shocked as I was.
“Bird! Bird! I am no mere bird! Look upon these feathers! See how they shine! Gaze upon my mighty talons -- see how sharp they are?! Many prey have been snatched up by them!” The bird declared, flapping his wings to reveal his wingspan. I… was less than impressed with it. The bird was mostly red with some feathers that darkened into black with a wingspan that was about as large as my hands pressed together.
I was weirded out by being able to understand what the bird was saying, more so when I realized that the bird was a braggart.
Talk With Animals was a spell that I had to fill in the blanks in myself. The branch that it was in was called druidcraft, but what I knew of it actually came from one of the tomes that I brought with me. It filled in the blanks on how the spell was actually supposed to work and the rest was how eagerly the Fade was to obey my will.
Swallowing my disbelief that the spell was actually real, I continued. “Your feathers are lovely and your talons do look mighty,” I responded, deciding that it was best to go with flattery. The bird seemed simple because he puffed out his chest and tweeted his joy which was translated as a boisterous laugh.
“Splendid are they not?” The bird started, but I quickly interjected before he could start rambling about how impressive he was.
“Would you happen to have seen anyone that looks like me around here?” I asked, gesturing at my ears and the bird squinted at me and, while reading bird expressions wasn’t my forte, I’m pretty sure he was giving me a look of extreme pity.
“How sad! So sad indeed! To be bereft of feathers and talons alike! However do you survive? Have you lost your flock, little one?” The bird asked me, making me open and close my mouth a few times before a small sigh escaped me, the words hitting a nerve despite the innocent nature of the question. Wasn’t like the bird knew.
I hesitated for a moment and nodded, “I… have lost my flock. Would you help me find them? I have these to pay you with,” I said, holding up a goodberry. The bird fluttered down, landing on my forearm like a perch, and inspected the berries. It seems he decided on payment upfront because he quickly gobbled one up.
“Scrumptious! Simply delicious! A marvelous berry!” The bird cried out, tweeting and singing happily. “Indeed, I have seen your featherless flock! Follow me!” The bird said, leaping off of my arm and took off. I stumbled after him, and for a moment, I thought the bird meant to cheat me because he vanished from sight. However, when I heard a cry of, “So slow!” Off in the distance, I knew I hadn’t been left behind.
I was rapidly coming to the conclusion that I really didn’t care much for nature. Or animals. Or forests. But, I would suffer them if it meant finding the Dalish. With them… with them, things would be different. They would be better. We could make things better.
Trailing after the bird, who I learned name was Bright Feathers, lasted for hours. The sky began to darken once again and I feared I would have to travel through the night to reach the Dalish. The shadows lengthened in the forest and the dark spots got far darker. Elves saw pretty well in the dark, but it felt like I was entering another realm as the forest darkened.
So focused was I on the trees that I completely missed it when I tripped over something, landing face-first in the dirt. At first, I thought it was a root of some kind until I rolled over and saw the metal point of an arrow being stuck in my face. The wielder was an elf but one unlike any I had ever seen before.
His face was tattooed with odd shapes -- a tree sprouted from the bridge of his nose with the branches covering his forehead and curved around to cover his cheekbones. He seemed handsome enough with a dark brown mane of hair that was braided with feathers sticking out of it, dressed in odd wood armor and leather, and wielding a large bow. Based on the look on his face, he seemed to find me as odd-looking as I found him.
“It’s not a shemlen, Tamlen,” the elf said and it took me a second to realize that he was speaking in elven. I still understood him. It sounded like the tongue that Elephant had used when he was demanding to know what I did right before I killed him, but it was very different from the elven that I knew. The snippets, at least. “He’s a flat-ear.”
I narrowed my eyes at the remark and the elf -- the Dalish elf -- narrowed his eyes right back at me. Seemingly materializing from the forest itself, another Dalish elf appeared with an arrow trained right at me. This one, Tamlen, had sandy blonde hair and black tattoos of ridges going up his forehead and a line going out from the corners of his mouth.
“Is there something wrong with him, Theron?” Tamlen questioned, circling around and seemingly concerned.
“Could be a shemlen sickness. The flat-ear could be-” Theron started, but I interjected, my voice cold.
“The flat-ear can understand you,” I replied to them, seemingly catching them both off guard. “You’re the Dalish, aren’t you?” I said, sitting up. Keening Blade and Fang were in my bag, but I didn’t want to use them. I was here to join the Dalish, not fight them. Plus, given the odds, I don’t think I would win that fight.
“The Sabrae clan,” Tamlen said, lowering his bow but Theron didn’t. He stared hard at me, his lips thinning and I think he was going to shoot me out of principle. “Where do you hail from?”
“Denerim,” I answered, looking up at Theron, not flinching at his gaze. So much was different. I couldn’t be the person that would flinch away from someone else's gaze. Not anymore.
“Why are your eyes like that? Are you ill?” Theron asked me, very slowly lowering his bow.
My lips thinned for a moment, my nostrils flaring as I exhaled a breath. “I’m not ill. I… had an accident of sorts. It's an injury, but it’ll go away in time,” I said, not wanting to reveal the truth. Not for any good reason. I… I just didn’t want to say the words out loud. That my family was dead. That Kallian was dead. If I didn’t say them out loud, then it didn’t feel real. “I’ve been looking for the Dalish. I left the city and I’ve been wandering for days in the forest looking for you. I… want to join you.”
Theron didn’t look surprised, “Finally had enough of licking shemlen boots then?” He remarked and I didn’t like his tone at all, but he glanced at Tamlen. The other elf shrugged.
“We shouldn’t decide anything. At the least, we should take him to the Keeper to see what she says,” Tamlen said, sliding the arrow in his bow back into its quiver. Theron seemed to think it over before nodding, deciding that he agreed. Once he slid the arrow back into his quiver, and put the bow over his chest, he reached down with a hand and there was a slight smirk tugging at the edges of his lips.
“Get ready for a whole new world, Flat-Ear,” he told me before I accepted his hand to be hauled to my feet.
I didn’t realize it then, but he was more right than even he realized.
Comments
Bud
Wasn't it stated somewhere in the game that even the Dalish had lost the ability to fully speak elvish after all this time. To explain why they spoke common, like everyone else. Finding someone who can speak it and presumably read and write it, will probably make up for him being a mage, given how stringent the clans are about only allowing a certain number of mages per clan.
Ajani Love
Oh this is getting GOOD
