Chapter 4
Her body ached.
She felt the softness of the bed below her, the heavy covers warming her. She felt the low hum of pain from her left hand as she pushed herself up.
A startled voice came from the center of the room, “Oh! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” an elven woman stared at her, a basket of supplies in her hands.
Emma rubbed her eyes. “It's alright. I just—”
The woman dropped to her knees, her basket forgotten as her arms stretched in reverence. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant. You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”
Emma stared at the woman prostrated before her. “Please. There's no need for that.” The woman was wide-eyed as Emma spoke. “What's your name?”
The woman began to stand, “Talia.”
“Talia, are you saying the danger is over?”
She backed away from Emma, “The Breach is still in the sky, but that’s what they say.” Her back hit the door, “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve wakened. She said, 'At once.'”
Emma wanted to dive back under the covers and lock and all of this out. “And she is…?”
“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. 'At once,' she said.” The elven woman bolted out the door, Emma's eyes following her. She was shocked to see a gathering of people flanking the path from her stoop. Emma sent a small gust to close the door.
Breath in, breath out. Regaining her center was the goal. Putting a stop to the shaking in her bones merely a side benefit. She pulled her shoulders back and tilted her chin up.
“I am my own creation.” She whispered to the air. “I am my own creation. I decide my own path. I am my own creation.”
* * *
The walk down this path was the complete opposite to her first. It was easier to keep her head high as she made her way to the Chantry. She heard no more calls for her death from the crowd.
“It's the Herald of Andraste!”
“She sealed the sky.”
“It's a Wintersend miracle!”
“Praise Andraste! Praise the Maker!”
So many humans surrounded her, bowed to her. No more signs of warding, but of praise. Still every hair on her body stood and every instinct told her to run to the shadows. To hide from all the watching eyes.
The heavy doors of the Chantry shut behind her. The silence paired with the warmth and simpleness of the nave. Nothing like the opulence of the Orlesian, or even Tevinter chantries. Her steps quickened as voices hit her ears.
“Have you gone completely mad?” Chancellor Roderick's voice may have been muffled, but that anger was on full display. “She should be taken to Val Royeaux immediately, to be tried by whomever becomes Divine!”
“I do not believe she is guilty.” Cassandra was calm, a wall to his bluster.
“The prisoner failed, Seeker. The Breach is still in the sky. For all you know, she intended it this way.” Like she was some all-powerful enemy.
“I do not believe that.”
“That is not for you to decide. Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”
“My duty is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded, Chancellor. As is yours.”
Emma gently knocked and opened the door. She saw Leliana first, the Left Hand giving her a small smile and nod upon entering. There were two Templars standing guard as Cassandra and Chancellor Roderick argued at a large table covered in maps and figurines.
Roderick aimed one of his greasy fingers at her. “Chain her. I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”
“Disregard that, and leave us.” Cassandra ordered. The Templars allowed Emma to pass, saluting Cassandra and left, closing the door behind them. Emma sought safety at Leliana's side.
Roderick's sneer was his only companion. “You walk a dangerous line, Seeker.”
Cassandra was exasperation incarnate. “The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat. I will not ignore it.”
Fear squeezed withing Emma's chest. “I did everything I could to close the breach. It almost killed me.”
“Yet you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned,” Roderick said, ever the contrarian. She really wanted to punch this man.
“Have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.” Leliana pushed off the wall, walking to directly in front the of the lone male. “Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others — or have allies who yet live.”
“I am a suspect?” Roderick's face paled.
“You, and many others.” Her smooth tone all threat.
“But not the prisoner.”
“I heard the voices in the temple.” Cassandra assured. “The Divine called to her for help.”
“So her survival, that thing on her hand—all a coincidence?” Emma couldn't argue with that logic.
“Providence.” Cassandra was sincere in her statement. “The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour.”
Emma matched Chancellor Roderick's incredulity. “You do realize I'm an elf, yeah? A Dalish elf.”
“I have not forgotten,” Casandra's gaze met hers, “No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.”
Leliana chimed in, “The breach remains, and your mark is still our only hope of closing it.”
“This is not for you to decide.” Roderick sputtered.
Cassandra slammed a large tome upon the table, causing the chancellor and prisoner to jump. “Do you know what this is, Chancellor.” She pointed to the eye insignia on the front. “This is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment,” she looked to Leliana in silent support. “I declare the Inquisition reborn.” The chancellor's mouth dropped, rage reignited in his eyes. “We will close the breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without,” her finger jabs his chest in punctuation, “your approval.”
They glared at one another before Roderick turned on his heel and left, slamming the door on his way out.
“Ass.” Cassandra muttered.
Leliana slowly inhaled, holding on to the air to calm herself, and exhaled. She addressed Emma'lah, “This is the Divine’s directive: rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”
“But we have no choice,” Cassandra's annoyance disappearing with the chancellor, “We must act now. With you at our side.”
Emma rubbed her face. “Let me make sure I understand. You want to rebuild the 'Inquisition of old.' And with this Inquisition, you want to what? Start a holy war?”
Cassandra jumped in. “We are already at war and you are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether or not the war is holy… that depends on what we discover.”
“And if I refuse?” her body still told her to run. To scramble her way out of here and disappear into the forest.
“You can go, if you wish.” Leliana said.
“You should know that while some believe you chosen, many still think you guilty. The Inquisition can only protect you if you are with us.” There was no hint of intimidation.
She knew Cassandra was right. “If you’re truly trying to restore order,”
“That is the plan.” Leliana assured.
“Help us fix this before it’s too late.” Cassandra's hand was outstretched.
Emma sighed, “Let's see how this goes.” She couldn't hide her reluctance as she shook hands with the seeker.
* * *
Cassandra brought Emma a hot tea as they waited for the others to join. Leliana move pieces around on the war table, the wild wind howling beyond the stone walls. She smell of old permeated the entire chantry, a fowler, crueler smell hidden beneath it.
The simple, heavy door to the room cracked open, a blond haired man peaking inside.
Emma was quickly introduced to the council for this Inquisition.
Commander Cullen Rutherford, who stood in his basic armor, the collar around his neck acting as a security blanket. His hair was wind tousled, his cheeks and forehead sun red.
Josephine Montilyet, the ambassador for the Inquisition, her dress was ostentatious to say the least. Golds and purples stitched together. Not really Orlesian, but not quite Antivan either. The fabric had a sheen to match the sweat upon Cullen's brow.
And she finally received a formal introduction to Sister Leliana.
“My position here involves a degree of…”
“She is our spymaster.”
“Yes. Tactfully put, Cassandra.”
Josephine took over the meeting, informing them that Emma'lah was being referred to by many as “The Herald of Andraste.”
“I beg your finest pardon? How in Elgar'nan's waxed balls am I the 'Herald of Andraste?'”
“People saw what you did at the temple, how you stopped the Breach from growing. They have also heard about the woman seen in the rift when we first found you. They believe that was Andraste.” Cassandra
“Even if we tried to stop that view from spreading—” Leliana chimed in.
“Which we have not.” Cassandra said oh so matter of fact.
“The point is, everyone is talking about you.” Leliana's grin wasn't unkind.
She felt his eyes before he spoke. “It’s quite the title, isn’t it?” Cullen had noticed the clench in her jaw, “How do you feel about that?”
“I am no 'herald.' Much less of Andraste.”
“I’m sure the Chantry would agree.”
She saw the shrug of agreement from Josephine. “The Chantry has denounced the inquisition—you, specifically,” pointing her pen at Emma'lah. “They're saying you being Herald is blasphemy, and we're heretics for harboring you.”
“Chancellor Roderick’s doing, no doubt.” One look into Cassandra's eyes and you'd see her punching the man over and over.
“What if I wasn't here? Wasn't in charge?”
“That is not an option.” Cass said
“And, let’s be honest,” Cullen leaned over to her with a wry smile, “They would have censured us no matter what.” She gave a small chuckle. His humorous interjections to her gave a little normalcy in the insanity that surrounded them.
“In any matter,” Cullen and Emma straightened as Josephine continued, commanding their attention. She nodded to Cassandra, who continued.
“I mentioned that your mark needs more power to close the Breach for good.”
“Which means we must approach the rebel mages for help.” Leliana said.
“I still disagree. The templars…” Cullen cut in.
There was a familiarity to the progression of the argument. Though Cullen kept glancing her way. Seeing how she was taking the news? She subtly stared back at him and saw his cheeks flush, impressive for how sun-burnt they were. She gave him a small smile, and he smiled back. She wondered for a moment how his beard would feel against her cheek. Not many of the people she'd grown up with had the ability for a beard.
“Unfortunately,” Josephine finally said, interrupting the sibling like rabble, “neither group will speak to us.”
“Great. So what do I need to do?”
“Well,” Leliana said, pointing to a location on the table, “A Chantry Cleric by the name Mother Giselle has asked to speak to you. She is not far, and knows those involved far better than I. Her assistance could be invaluable.”
“She’s asked for me, specifically? Why would a mother from the Chantry want to speak to a declared heretic?”
“Perhaps she doesn’t agree with her sisters?” Cullen said.
“You don’t think that could be an ambush?”
“I doubt it. From what I know her, she is a kind soul and not the sort to involve herself in violence.” Leliana points to the map on the table, “You’ll find her tending to the wounded in the Hinterlands here, near Redcliffe.”
“And what if it leads no where?”
“We'll try finding others to recruit to our cause. And the four of us,” Cass gestured around the table, “will think of other options. I won't leave this all to you.”
“Ma seran—uh,” she caught herself. “Thank you. May I have a few moments alone?”
“Of course, Herald.” The title flowed so easily off Cassandra's tongue as she moved to the door, holding it open as Josephine and Leliana filed out.
Cullen took the door and offered Cassandra to leave. He stepped over the threshold and looked back at Emma. “Are you alright?”
She looked up from where she had been staring at the map. His brown eyes pulling at her to speak true. “We'll see.”
He gave her a grim, understanding smile and nod as he pulled the door too.
Her body relaxed, a deep exhale escaped her as she bent over and rested her elbows on the table. Her head fell into her hands, rubbing the insanity of the past week in. The mark in her hand gave a small spark, a stinging pain racing up her arm. She hissed and shook the damned thing.
She stared back at the map, their destination glaring back at her.
“Fuckin 'Herald of Andraste.'” She fought her tears, her shaking body, breathing her chant into the room around her, “I am my own creation. I decide my own path. No one decides who I am but me.”
* * *
She stayed in the war room for over an hour, digesting all the chaos that was now in her hands. She aimed to make a quick exit, to jog from the room to the front doors.
Not two steps out the war room, “Mistress Lavellan. Do you have a moment?”
Emma breathed deep, turning to her new advisor. “Do you need something, Ambassador?”
“Yes. Well, not precisely, but— I should like to know if anyone here has treated you unkindly, Herald. For being an elf.”
“Shockingly, no. Why? Is something happening?”
“Not at the moment. I only wanted to make sure.” She was jittery. “If we are to convince the world that Andraste’s Herald is an elf,”
There it is. Emma thought with disdain.
“The Inquisition must give you its utmost support. Stories of 'wild Dalish elves' have grown even more outrageous as people learn of you.”
“Oooh. Do tell.” No humor in her voice.
“I would prefer not to repeat them.”
“You gotta give me something.”
Josephine blanched. “Stealing children, selling peasants to slavers, burning down villages. Using infants for blood magic… Those are the stories about your fellow Dalish. I won’t repeat what they’ve said about you.”
She laughed a deep, angry laugh. “I've heard terrible and fantastical stories about the Dalish ever since I was a child. I'd not be surprised if some have said the Dalish can steal your breath or turn into dragons. The humans telling those tales are the first to take a knife to someone with pointed ears.” Emma lost herself in thought. “My clan’s defended ourselves against them more times than I can count.” A flash of blood, Where are his ears?
The ambassador lost more of her color. “Really? I… had no idea.”
“I'm surprised my magic isn't just as much of a problem?”
“It depends which way the wind is blowing. 'Magic is meant to serve man,' the Chant teaches. Close the Breach, and we can claim that is why Andraste chose you. Hopefully it will be enough to replace this gossip about the Dalish.”
“I am not chosen by Andraste.” Every word as important as the last.
Josephine's lips pinched. “Still, I will do what I can to end the slander. It may help if I know more about how your clan lived.”
“You may not.”
This put the ambassador on her back foot. “I...” Her shoulders straightened. “I apologize for intruding. There is much on your shoulders, and here I am jumping down your throat for more. If you'll excuse me, Herald, there are letters that need writing.”
Emma's temper simmered under her skin at the blatant title, her mark shimmering in tune with her emotion. Still, she nodded, only turning to leave after the ambassador had closed her door.
* * *
The frigid air blew through her anger. It calmed the deepest reaches of her soul.
She wanted her things.
A chill went down her spine, unrelated to the snowy air. The crowd from earlier had dispersed. Still her memory flashed to not even a week ago when she was surrounded by sneering faces. Eyes that wanted her destroyed.
Now she was their “herald.”
She walked by Varric, who was thankfully turned away. Soldiers opened the gate for her, bowing their heads a firm “Herald” as she passed them. Keeping her head down, she made her way for the next gate, following the path she walked with Cassandra.
The mountains were quiet now. No shouts of fear or shrieks of monsters from campsite tails. It was beautiful. She'd made it past the where she had closed the first rift when a body move behind her.
“Now that Cassandra’s out of earshot, are you holding up all right?”
“MAKER'S TITS VARRIC.” She sent her ice bolt off the cliff. The dwarf didn't flinch.
“I mean, you go from being the most wanted criminal in Thedas to joining the armies of the faithful. Most people would have spread that out over more than one day.”
She stared at him, hand on chest, catching her breath. The adrenaline coursed through her system.
“Well?” his eyebrow matched his wry smile.
Fucker. “I don't know.” She rested her hands on her hips. “I have no idea what’s happening anymore. I’m just glad to be upright.”
He let out a laugh and walked towards her, “That makes two of us.” He stopped and gestured for her to lead the way. A begrudged sigh later, and they were moving again. “I still can’t believe you survived Cassandra. You’re lucky that you were out cold for most of her frothing rage.”
“If it was that bad, why did you stay?”
“I like to think I’m as selfish and irresponsible as the next guy, but this… Thousands of people died on that mountain. I was almost one of them. And now there’s a hole in the sky. Even I can’t walk away and just leave that to sort itself out.”
“You are a far better man than I. I can't guarantee that I'd have stayed without this thing in my hand.”
“I get that. For days now, we’ve been staring at the Breach, watching demons and Maker-knows-what fall out of it.”
“I’m still not sure I believe that any of this is really happening”
“If this is all just the Maker winding us up, I hope there is a damn good punch line coming. I'd say that you might want to consider running at the first opportunity. But,”
“I might have been doing that and the fact you followed me might have hampered those plans?”
“Basically.”
* * *
The bodies were no longer burning. The effect remained the same. Emma worked her way through quickly, doing her best to remember what halls were which, what rooms were where.
“What are we doing?”
“You are an unwelcome tag-along. Again.” She heard his small laugh. “I am trying to see if my packs made it.”
“Do you actually think they did?”
She shrugged. “I'd have thought all the walls of this place would be dust, but” she gestures around.
“Fair point. Alright,” Varric cracked his knuckles. “Where'd you hide it?”
“The first is by a tree not too far from the mountain we came down. The second,” she used her staff to tap on stones, “There was a small nook I found. Thought it was perfect.” Tap. Tap taptaptap. Tap.Thaup. “Oh!?” She dropped to her knees and clawed at the stone. “AH Yes!” she held the pack aloft like a trophy, cackling with glee.
“No shit? Maybe you are lucky?” Varric said.
She shouldered the pack. “Let's see if the other survived.”
They picked their way through more ashes, doing their best to be careful. Emma's foot was caught on a hand, grasping out of the dirt for air. She brushed it off and kept going. Another hand brushed her. Another seemed to reach for her, beg her for help long past being useful.
“Is it wrong to be frustrated with dead people?” She was trying to make some light in the darkness, hearing a sharp laugh and nothing more from the bard.
They approached the tree she had hidden the second pack within to see it snapped and splintered.
“Shit.” She dropped what was in her hands and combed the area. This was supposed to be safe. This was supposed to survive.
This pack held her memories. Her special things that went everywhere with her. The pack was specially made, enchanted heavily for safety.
The world closed in, the pounding of blood overwhelming her hearing. There wasn't enough air.
Her hands bled as the freezing cold sharpened the slivers of wood that stuck her. She only focused on finding her pack. Her little home from home. Sarah's carving, Varelle's favorite book, Sula'hn and their songs, more and more. Her reminders of home, of love.
The shaking set in.
“Hey. Are you okay?” Varric's voice came from the edge of space.
“Ican'tfinditIneedtofindit,” Please. If anyone is listening please.
“Does it look like the other pack?” She couldn't answer.
Varric set to searching the perimeter.
Where was it where was it? It had to be here it just had to—
“I found something!” Varric called over to her.
She fade stepped to him, causing the poor man nearly tumble backwards. He'd found it. One of the straps had torn. A buckle had disappeared, but it was safe. Everything was there nestled inside.
Emma'lah slumped into the ground and wept.
Varric said nothing.
He took a few steps away and set up watch over their surrounding, over her as the last week settled into her soul.
~ ~ ~
“I’ve written enough tragedies to recognize where this is going. Heroes are everywhere. I’ve seen that. But the hole in the sky? That’s beyond heroes. We were going to need a miracle.”
- Varric Tethras, All This Shit is Weird, the story of the Inquisition