A story of loss and love set in the Dragon Age world of Thedas which is the property of Bioware Inc.
Up From Ashes
I have no recollection of how long I lay by the ashes of my love. Her pyre had consumed her body, a body in which I had found joy, rest, and love.
Her spirit had passed through the veil to what end no one could say. All the priests said her soul
would sit by the Maker's side
, but my faith in him had died with the death of my love.
"Why did you do it? Emma ir abelas, I am filled with sorrow." I cried into the night.
I sang the dirge, tears raining wet down my cheeks her armor clutched to my breasts. I could not commit it to the pyre; it still had her scent. I had slept with it for two nights now, hoping death would claim me. I set no watch, burned no fire if the creatures of the wild wanted my useless flesh; it was theirs for the taking.
"It should have been me, my love; why?" My constant refrain.
I could not recall the lover's lament in Elven, but at night in common, I sang, "Come swiftly sweet death, drink deep my life's blood for you have taken my heart, my soul."
On the third night, my dreams were as usual of her, of our life together, her rescue of my useless self after the attack, my broken body amongst the dead. Her beautiful face filled with sorrow, her powerful arms lifting me to put my body on the pyre, only to find my breath cloud her silverite mail. Her unbridled joy at finding life within a field of death. My bruised and swollen eyes barely able to open, only to find a vision of love and compassion framed by a sea of raven-black locks. Her deep sea-grey eyes possessed wisdom beyond the wit of man and pearl white teeth in a smile of joy at the finding a poor human child still living among the dead.
I was blessed.
Many of her Elven kind would have tossed my broken body on the pyre, breath or no, and with good reason. My kind, we humans, had destroyed and despoiled Arlathan, her capital and nation out of greed, spite, and jealousy. Raped and burned our way through an ancient land we had not cleverness to comprehend nor compassion to spare. Arlathan had fallen long ago, leaving a remnant of a remnant to wander the land and eke out a living on our mean scraps.
Yet an ancient of ancients, an Emerald Knight of the People of the Great Wood, had stopped to mark the broken body of a human child and to take her as her own. To heal her, teach her, see her grown to a woman.
I was blessed.
The hours I had spent, fingers entwined in her midnight black hair, driven from peak to peak by her careful and gentle love. My desperate efforts to bring her the joy she had given me, to feel her shudders, to drink her nectar, to please her if only to return a sliver of the pleasure she had given me. I would be content.
Now, all gone, consumed by flame, now ash, the ashes of my beloved.
"
Get up, my love
." A whisper in my dreams, disturbed by her sweet voice, "
Get up, emma vhennen, my heart, you must run to save another and all our sisters
."
I woke from fitful sleep. I had heard her words, but that could not be? My heart told me it was; my wit told me impossible she is ash now, her beautiful soul sits and waits for me with the Maker, if at all.
Next, I find myself, in her armor, fleeing south along a road I did not know, her daggers across my back. What drove me, I could not say, but drive me, it did. Heedless of danger, through river, or over stream, along the road, through grasses and fields we passed, her steed and I. Past all endurance, by my will alone, the beast drove on, past pain, even to bitter death it raced unceasing.
By her screams, I knew. My nightmare played behind my eyes, my memories of beasts on two legs, raping, killing, leaving a younger me for dead.
"Though death takes me to my love, this will not stand." My whispered vow to the passing night.
Reins in bared teeth, daggers in hand, I burst upon them, bastards bent to cruelty, I broke upon them like waves of a raging sea.
No blades woman am I, no practitioner of the dance, but I loved one who was; 'twas my privilege to enjoy both her gentle tutoring in love and death dealing dance.
In my hands were blades forged by the ancient magical smiths of Arlathan, formed by a marriage of silverite and red steel, adorned with runes now known only by a few, their names writ in flame and magic—Sorrow and Regret.
I danced the dance of blades taught me by my mistress and my love; I wept for the longing for just one more lesson. I am but a student of the dance, not like she whom I loved. To watch her dance was to see perfection, but I gave my all to make her proud, and my all was enough. None of the brigand's blades could touch me, no mace could fall, I danced, and they died.
One by one, they passed the veil to find darkness and the abyss. One by one, they tasted Sorrow or choked upon Regret. Till at last the final blow, the killing stroke fell upon the leader, a beastly brute found Regret buried in his skull as I drew Sorrow across his throat. It was done.
Glancing around, I noted her guard's broken and bloodied bodies and the few dead brigands I had not dispatched. Clearly, an ambush, one so effective her tiny retinue had little chance, 'twas miracle I happened to find her, for a miracle, it must be, if a faulty one.
I thought my errand a failure when I saw the small body lying curled as if a babe. I cleansed Sorrow and Regret on the tunic of the brute, respect for my love demanded it, and returned them to their scabbards; I was in no hurry to find the child dead and thus underline my failure. My pulse quickened, as did my pace when I perceived her movements.
I thought a child, petite with long raven black hair, harkened to the one I mourned so much, and as I approached, the delicate point of ears through the forest of midnight black brought the comparison into focus. I found myself running then kneeling beside the girl child, for clearly a girl she was for no boy would have that delicacy of form or that cut of shape.
I gently searched her back for injury, finding none; I turned her as tenderly as I might, being ever mindful of my own early life.
A pained moan escaped her lips, but I found there no severe wound either; I had not wholly failed.
"We must get you away, little one; rest now as you can." I would have had us away, putting safe miles behind us, but our mount was spent, and I had a desire to offer what I could to the noble fallen. I searched the others for survivors, finding none except among the brigands, using my boot knife to ensure the death of those who were thieves and murderers; they deserved no better.
While mount and charge rested, I searched for means to give respect to the dead. Whether by chance, luck, or providence, I found a short way off, a goodly supply of cut and dressed wood, likely from a hunting camp. I would send her guards back to the Maker decently, and as their pyre burned, I despoiled the brigands, then left them to the wolves.
I took time to tend to the girl; although uninjured, the ordeal had exhausted the child. I sought to ensure she was indeed unhurt; during my labors, she had taken drink and some of the dried fruit and waybread I had left for her. I had no meat, that would have to come on the road, I had no time to hunt, and we had need of haste; the pyre would attract attention.
"Are you injured, child?" I asked as I knelt beside her.
"I am no child, human; I am small, that is all." She was indeed small, but the ferocity of her eyes let me know she had strength enough to challenge kings.
"Your pardon, miss. I meant no offense, are you injured?" I asked; others might have laughed at her strength, but I had experience with the Elven folk and knew the depth of that power. I wished not to challenge her. She shook her head no.
"Then we must away, lest more of your suitors come to dance." I smiled at her, hoping she appreciated my jest. Though she returned the smile, she said. "Of such suitors, I have no need. My love, she awaits me in Val Royeaux; however, if
you
have wish to dance, perhaps we may find some time before we attain the city."
I laughed, "I would not presume upon you, or your lady loves affections." I leaned into her ear, "For I am not a man and have
some
control." She giggled, which made my heart warm for the first time in days.
I lifted her to the saddle, but took a moment to whisper to our mount.
"Sweet one, I wish I could have managed your true-name, but please, please bear us to safety as swiftly as you will." Our mount seemed to understand; I could never get my tongue 'round the name our Mistress found for her, though try as I may, oft it brought nickers and roars of laughter, as well as a pout from myself for my efforts. Soft kisses on my neck invariably repaired my mood.
Our mount was of the breed favored by the ancient elves. She was not so stout as the horses preferred by the knights of men, but she was more vigorous and more graceful, with a heart beyond any mount of men. Her hooves pounded on, though she was weary. I had tried to explain our cause, but my Elven was not up to the task; she nickered and nodded her beautiful head, her scarlet mane flowing, a color we shared. My beloved often braided it once upon a time, the horse's mane as well as mine; my heart ached so at the memory.
On and on her hooves pounded it was 120 leagues to Val Royeaux, the capital of the Empire and safety.
We rested by night, and I bagged a small rabbit. A snare works better than a bow often, and a few fish for breakfast.
"Do you know why you were attacked?" I asked, wishing to find some conversation. It had been a quiet ride.
"My love seeks change, to change the hearts of men and to bring love back to the Chantry, for the Maker is love." She looked despondently into the fire. "But there are those who fear this change, and would use her love for me against her. I fear the brigands were their men, to force my love to stay the old hateful course banishing those like us," her eyes knowingly glancing at me. "Back into the shadows, away from the light."
At that moment, like lightning from a clear blue sky, I knew. "You are the consort of the newly elected Divine!" The name of the new Divine was a secret, but she would take her place on the Sun Burst Throne within days and begin her reign. The Empress would attend the ceremony, as well as representatives from the Five Nations! Her ascension speech would define her goals for her reign.
"Maker, what have I gotten myself into?" I must have looked terrified or shocked or dumbfounded or all of them in a stew.
