When they came closer to the Dalish camp, they heard the fight before they saw it. Two people screaming at each other in Dalish, very loudly.
Felassan wrinkled his nose. “That’s certainly not good,” he said.
“What is it?” Briala asked.
“They're doing magic...”
“And screaming at each other,” Michel muttered.
“Oh, well, that too,” Felassan agreed.
“They've been at it for a while,” the hunter sighed. “Come on.” they walked through the Dalish camp, to the far end, where a tall elvhen man with long, steel-gray hair stood at the very edge of the camp, having a furious exchange with a hooded woman. They were at full pitch, shouting at each other in Dalish too fast to understand.
“Keeper!” the hunter exclaimed.
“What?” the man whirled around to stare at them.
“Felassan's back!”
The Keeper rolled his eyes. “Oh, well, what a joy that is!”
“Who's back?” the woman peered at Felassan. “What are you playing at, Thelhen?”
“Not your concern!” the Keeper growled at the woman. "You--go back! This isn't your business!"
"Fine," the woman snapped. "We'll be back, Thelhen, understand?"
"Fine," Thelhen hissed back. "If you come past the camp line, I'll freeze you where you stand, understand?"
"Oh, I understand, all right," the woman said, then turned on her heel and vanished into the woods.
“And what, in the name of all that is good and holy, is going on here?” Felassan asked, staring after where the woman had gone.
“Cursed Coalition interlopers,” the Keeper snarled. He turned and surveyed Felassan’s group. “Now,” he said, hands on hips. “What nonsense is it you’ve brought to my doorstep?” he looked Celene, Briala, and Michel over. “Anaris’ balls, what is this?”
“Empress Celene, her champion Michel, and Briala, of Halam’shiral,” Felassan said, looking incredibly amused at the goings-on.
The Keeper stared at them for a long moment, before he turned his attention back to Felassan and said “Why did you bring them here?”
“You needed to meet new people.”
Thelhen blinked. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Did I give anyone the impression I had time for any of...this?” he waved his hands at Celene and company.
“The elves in the cities are suffering, Hahren,” Briala said, stepping forward. “If you could lend your assistance--”
“Not my problem,” Thelhen snapped. “Do you know what my problem is? First off, that woman,” he gestured towards the forest. “And second off, the damned Templars and the cursed army trampling up and down the entire bloody countryside—or have you not noticed?”
Briala blinked. “But—we're your people,” she said. “Surely you care for others of your own kind, enough to hear our grievances?”
“Da'len, we don’t have any kin in the cities,” Thelhen said, his expression more sorrowful than angry now. “And in any case, I have other things on my mind right now.”
Briala felt stricken, and didn’t say anything else. Her chest was tight.
“Such as pointless arguments?” Michel muttered.
“Did someone ask you for your opinion, shemlen?” Thelhen said. “Because I don't think they did. Creators, I’d rather hear whatever she’s on about than whatever you have to say,” he jerked his head towards Briala, then turned his back on them, and snapped something to the hunters.
Felassan stepped forward, and he and the Keeper argued in Dalish for some time, Thelhen waving his arms around frantically.
Finally, Felassan and the Keeper separated, and Felassan returned to Briala.
“What’s going on?” Briala asked.
Felassan sighed. “This is going to be a bit more complicated than anticipated,” he confessed.
“How so?” Celene asked.
“I hadn’t expected—whoever that is,” he said, gesturing towards the woods.
“And who is it?”
“A woman from Ferelden,” he said, pursing his lips.
“Why is she here?”
“I’m not sure,” Felassan said. “I can’t know everything, can I?”
Celene and Michel were confined to one of the aravels, where several hunters guarded them. Briala and Felassan were given free roam of the camp.
Briala watched the Dalish, her gut churning. These people had never known what it was to live in cities, under the bootheel of Orlais. She saw children playing freely, people having long conversations in Dalish, a pregnant woman with a healthy glow and even two people openly practicing magic.
They surely didn’t know what it was to have your ear twisted for saying your full name, to be mocked for even mentioning Arlathan. To have governesses and professors all speak of the savagery of the elves, how gracious the humans are to uplift them from their heathen ways--
Surely they never knew what it was like to have their city burned. The Dales were lost long ago, and they still clung to their lost land without giving any consideration to the living.
Briala felt sick as she watched. No one paid much attention to her, except for an odd moment where the pregnant woman approached her and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder but said nothing.
Felassan came to her side.
“Come on,” Felassan said, taking her arm.
“What is it?” Briala asked.
“I want to see this ambassador woman for myself, and you are coming with me.”
“Why bother?” Briala muttered, glaring at a passing couple who glared right back. “She'll say I'm not her people.”
“Yes, probably,” Felassan said. “But if I go by myself and she kills me, that won't be very fun for anyone.”
Briala followed Felassan into the forest. “You told me, but I didn’t really think...” she trailed off.
“I know. You didn’t want to believe me, da’len. It’s alright. Come, we can see what this business is all about. Perhaps we’ll be surprised.”
Briala didn’t say anything.
They came to the woods, to the edge of a heavy magical ward.
“Hello?” Felassan called, prodding the ward with one hand and receiving a stinging shock for his trouble.
An elvhen woman stepped out of the shadows.
“Who are you?” the woman snapped. She had long silver hair and piercing blue eyes, her vallaslin pale blue and twining over her forehead and her cheeks.
“I am Felassan, and this is Briala,” Felassan said. “And yourself?”
The woman raised her eyebrows as he introduced himself. “I am Ambassador Andoriel Eilhana Panalanvinte, representative of the Coalition and of Clan Panalanvinte,” she told him. “What are you doing here? Thelhen finally come to his senses?”
“Hardly,” Felassan said. “I merely wanted to ask what you were doing here. The Keeper was not very forthcoming.”
“You know what your Keeper's been up do?” Andoriel demanded.
“A great many things, I should assume.”
Andoriel scoffed and let down the magical ward, gesturing for Briala and Felassan to come within its bounds.
“Summoning a demon to reactivate the eluvian network!” Andoriel threw up her hands. “I told him Keeper Merrill and the Coalition have got it under control, that we can't just turn all of them on at once, it takes time, but it turns out he up and summons Imshael!”
Felassan stared at her, looking at a loss for words for the first time Briala had ever known. “You have reactivated the eluvians?” he asked after a minute.
“Yes,” Andoriel said. “That's one of the reasons we're trying to contact elves of the west! We need mages, we need archaeologists--”
“Wait, wait, slower, please,” Felassan held up his hands. “How did you--?”
“Keeper Merrill did it,” Andoriel said. “Damn, boy, where have you been?”
“Elves of the west,” Briala said. “The Dalish elves?”
“Well, them, and we were hoping to try and talk to the Hahrens at Val Royeaux and Halam'shiral,” Andoriel said with a glance at Briala. “Not too much luck so far, though.”
“Wait—you actually want to speak to us?” she and Felassan looked at each other, Felassan still looking startled.
“Are you from an Alienage, da'len?” Andoriel asked. “Well, that's a stroke of luck. We've been having a terrible time just trying to travel there, damn Chavaliers keep shooting at our people any time they spot someone with tattoos--”
“They don't do that to me,” Felassan said.
“Then you need to show us how to get in,” Andoriel insisted. “We've tried—haven't so much as gotten close, and the local Dalish aren't any help at all. If they don't ignore us, they start picking fights over who's more Dalish, bloody infuriating is what it is.”
“Wait—you've been trying to talk to us?” Briala asked, with a glare at Felassan.
“Only recently,” Andoriel clarified. “Been trying to reach the western Clans first, get a foothold and some accurate maps.” she looked between the two of them. “Why?”
Briala gaped. “You don't have—Felassan, I gave you--”
“I passed all your information to Thelhen,” Felassan said. “I had no idea that any Coalition members were in the country.” he turned to Andoriel. “Briala wants Clan Virnehn to back Empress Celene,” he explained. “There's a power struggle for the throne, and Briala feels--”
“You what?” Andoriel exclaimed. She turned to Briala. “Alright, first off—never, ever ask a Dalish Clan to back an Orlesian noble. Ever.”
“But,” Briala's head spun. “Celene being in power would help--” her lip curled. “But you don't think us 'flat-ears' are your people, do you?”
“Oh, Anaris' balls,” Andoriel cursed. “That's not the problem! And don't listen to a word that idiot Thelhen says—you're just as much of the People as I am. I mean, really. The problem is that, well, there’s an awful lot of bad blood between the Dalish and the Orlesians.”
“But Celene could help,” Briala insisted.
“I'm sure you believe that, but historically, that's not correct,” Andoriel said. “Anyway, look, we can't go making alliances right this second in any case, not with that damn demon on the loose—we need to take care of it before it does something like murder us all.”
“That is a problem,” Felassan said.
“Demon? He summoned a demon?” Briala asked, looking from Andoriel to Felassan.
Andoriel threw her hands up. “That idiot Thelhen somehow got it into his head that a demon would know how to fix the local eluvian network—I tell him, it won’t, because the thing’s a bloody liar, he’d be better off with blood magic, but does he listen to me? No, because I’m from over the mountains, and apparently that makes me not good enough to listen to!” she growled and kicked at the ground. “Idiot!”
“Ah,” Felassan nodded in understanding. “That's why there are so many sylvans nearby.”
Andoriel nodded. “You run into those, too?”
“Yes, two of them.”
“Mm, makes sense—Thelhen made the Veil so unstable it's almost as bad as the nastier parts of the Brecelian. Bloody unhealthy is what it is.”
“Oh,” Briala felt mildly dizzy. “What are you trying to do?”
“Get close enough to the dratted thing to banish it,” Andoriel said. “Or at least piss it off enough to leave. Thelhen doesn't want us anywhere near it, that's why he's been keeping us out.” she peered at Briala. “Anyway—what is this business with the Empress?” she asked. “Ir abelas, I haven’t been keeping up with Orlesian politics. Barely any news out here. What’s happened?”
“Grand Duke Gaspard is trying to oust Celene from the throne,” Briala explained. “We brought her here--”
“Wait a blasted minute, the Empress of Orlais is here?” Andoriel exclaimed.
“Yes…?”
“And you lot just ran off and left her?”
“She’ll be safe enough for the moment,” Felassan said. “But not for long.”
“I damn well say not for very bloody long! Andruil’s blessed tits, you get that Empress of yours out here right now, before one of Thelhen’s idiots throws her off a cliff or something!” Andoriel shook her head. “Go on, get!” she gestured for Felassan to go, and he nodded and did so with an amused smile. What was amusing about the situation, Briala wasn’t quite sure.
Briala turned to follow, but Andoriel grabbed her shoulder. “Not you, da’len,” she said. “You stay put. Don’t want any more of you out of my sight than have to be.”
Andoriel guided Briala to sit down at her camp.
“That’s Mala, Ovra, and Varras, by the way,” Andoriel said, pointing to three elves who were busy with various spellworks. Mala, a tall dark woman who was close enough to hear, spared Briala a smile. The other two, a man and a woman, were too far away and too deep into their spellwork to pay any mind.
“What are they doing?” Briala asked.
“Mala is doing our wards, Ovra is doing listening and watching spells, and Varras is trying to see if he can work out anything about that demon at our distance.” Andoriel said. “Now, da’len, tell me about this Alienage of yours.”
“I’m not from an Alienage, I’m from Halam’shiral,” Briala said. “And it is burning.”
Andoriel stared at her. Mala also stopped in the middle of her spellwork to stare.
“Oh, da’len, what happened?” Andoriel put a hand to her mouth.
Briala looked away. “There was a rebellion,” she said, and rubbed the back of her head, feeling her close-cropped hair. “Celene—the Empress—put it down.”
Mala and Andoriel exchanged a look. Andoriel nodded at Mala, who quickly went to Varras and Ovra and interrupted their works, speaking quietly to them.
“This Celene—the one you wish to have the throne?” Andoriel looked at Briala, her gaze intense.
Briala nodded. “If Celene is bad, Gaspard will be worse,” she said. “He cares nothing for the elves.”
“But this Celene burnt down your city! She burnt Halam’shiral!” Andoriel shook her head. “Creators—I can only imagine what would happen if King Alistair...” she cut herself off.
“Do you truly have no other options?”
“None. While the Chantry is in such a precarious position, they need a firm hand to guide them and prevent civil war.”
“There’s no doubt of that,” Andoriel said with a grim expression. “We’re in some contact with the Chantry as well, and believe you me, I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
“You are in contact with the Chantry?” Briala was surprised. “But I never heard of--”
“It is a connection formed with our alliance with the Wardens,” Andoriel explained. “Tenuous, but still there.”
“You maintain a Warden alliance?”
“Of course.” Andoriel peered at Briala sidelong. “Should we not?”
Briala knew, just as everyone else in Orlais, that the Chantry was no friend to the Wardens.
“But the Seekers...” Briala shook her head. “Never mind. This is part of the problem, I suppose. But before we can focus on the Chantry, we need to prevent Gaspard from taking the throne. It will be worse for all of us if he does.”
“Curse it, I wish we had more information!” Andoriel exclaimed, getting to her feet. “Our Chantry sources can only tell us so much, and only wish to tell us so much—we have no good sources within the Orlesian court. I have no way to verify what you are telling me! We didn’t even hear of the problems in Halam’shiral...” she shook her head. “We need to take this to a higher authority than myself.”
“A higher authority?” Briala leaned forward. “Like who?”
“We could see what Queen Aeducan has to say on this,” Andoriel said. “There’s a Deep Roads entrance not a week away, it’s how we got here in the first place. We could beg an audience with the Queen and the Prince-Consort, and the Coalition is meeting soon—you could meet with them,” she nodded at Briala.
“The Queen of Orzammar?” Briala frowned. This was an avenue she had not considered. “What stake would she have in this?”
“She is our ally, and a friend to all elvhen,” Andoriel explained. “You must have heard that the Prince-Consort is an elf.”
Briala had heard something of the sort. “Yes,” she said slowly. “There were many nobles chattering about it for weeks. It diminished trade with Orzammar—no one approved of a monarch who would marry an elf.”
“Hm,” Andoriel sniffed in disapproval. “Well, if you are a friend to us, Queen Aeducan is a friend to you.”
“I am...elvhen enough for you?” Thelhen’s words still stung her.
“Of course, da’len!” Andoriel took Briala’s hands. “Don’t let that old bear Thelhen get to you. Not all Clans are the same. You may not be Dalish, but you are—you are family. We of the east learned to stand together during the Blight. We will not abandon you now.”
Briala looked into Andoriel’s dark eyes, and felt a tightness in her throat.
“You truly mean that?”
Andoriel smiled at her. She quickly reached out and brushed a hand along the side of Briala’s head, stroking her short hair. “Oh, da’len. Of course.”
Felassan hurried back to the camp, where Celene and Michel were being watched by hunters. Thelhen was still growling angrily, pacing back and forth, and crackling with excess magical energy. Oddly, his First, Mihris, was nowhere to be seen.
Felassan dodged Thelhen and went to the young hunters guarding Celene and Michel.
“Here now,” Felassan told them, switching from Common to Dalish. “They are in my charge—let me watch them.”
“Where’s your flat-ear friend?” asked one of the hunters, a young woman with the curling vallaslin of Dirth’a’men across her cheeks.
“She does not want to guard them,” Felassan said. “She does not like these shemlen any more than you do. They hurt her family.”
“Oh, poor dear,” the young woman said, a sympathetic grimace crossing her face. “Well, I suppose that’s what you get for living with shemlen.” she shrugged, and she and the other hunter took off.
Celene and Michel both looked distinctly ruffled and unsettled. They stared at Felassan as he approached.
“What are you doing?” Michel asked.
“I am freeing you,” Felassan said with a grin, and went to work on their bindings.
“Where is Briala?” Celene wanted to know.
“With our new allies.”
“And who are they?”
“It seems as if we have another option on our hands,” Felassan said, his grin widening. “Now come—unless you wish to stay imprisoned by this lot?”
]
“I suppose not,” Celene said.
“Very good.”
“Andoriel!” Mala called from the wards. “Felassan’s returned!”
Andoriel and Briala turned to see Felassan coming towards them, Celene and Michel in tow.
“I have retrieved them,” Felassan said. “Now, Ambassador—what is your plan?”
“Who is this?” Michel wanted to know, glaring around at the ambassador and the mages.
“I am Ambassador Andoriel Eilhana Panalanvinte, of Clan Panalanvinte, here on behalf of the Dalish Coalition,” Andoriel said. “Mala, Varras and Ovra are all of different Clans, here to assist me.”
“And what are you here to do?” Celene asked.
“I was attempting to get an alliance with Clan Virnehn, but when I discovered what the Keeper was doing...” she shook her head. “I need to take care of that demon they’ve summoned.”
“Demon?” Michel exclaimed.
“Yes, yes, a demon,” Andoriel waved her hand. She peered at Michel. “Briala, da’len, you didn’t tell me one of your fellows was here,” she said.
“What?” Michel spluttered.
“He is the Empress’ Champion, Ambassador.” Briala said.
“Champion?” Andoriel looked blank. “But I thought half-elvhen couldn’t join the Orlesian military.”
Celene raised her eyebrows, while Michel continued to sputter.
“That was supposed to be a secret,” Felassan said, his violet eyes dancing.
“Hmph,” Andoriel shook her head. “Well, my lad, if you mean to go about elvhen, you need to know that that isn’t a secret well kept,” she informed Michel loftily.
“How did you--” Michel stammered. “I—how--”
“Well, da’len, your eyes shine, don’t they?” Andoriel said with a dismissive wave. “Now, we need to figure out how to deal with that demon. Everything else can come later.”
“But--” Michel and Celene exchanged a look, Michel looking frantic, Celene curious.
“What of this demon?” Briala asked. “What do you know of it?”
“It isn’t an ordinary thing,” Andoriel explained. “It’s a Forbidden One.”
“A Forbidden One?” Celene asked. “I—have heard references to such creatures, but I am not familiar...”
“Four very powerful, very old demons,” Andoriel said. “I suppose Thelhen found Imshael somewhere deep in the Fade, and Imshael convinced him he could help him.” Andoriel shook his head. “Fool man. He should know better.”
“How do you mean to get rid of him?”
Andoriel clucked her tongue. “Well, with luck, we might be able to get him to bugger off on his own. He can’t be happy to be trapped in a summoning circle.”
“Unless that was his plan all along,” Felassan suggested, eyes narrowed in thought.
Andoriel sighed. “Aye, unless that.”
“How would we get rid of him if he doesn’t want to leave?” Briala asked. “How powerful is he?”
“Well, it’s possible the summoning circle is affecting him in an adverse way,” Andoriel said, rolling her shoulders back. “It might be making him weaker, or more aggressive. Breaking it may make him more powerful, or it might make him more docile. No way to know for sure unless I get a close look at the thing.”
“Why would it make him more docile to break the circle?” Celene asked. She was always fascinated by magic, even though she understood very little of it, having none of her own.
“Summoning spirits can damage them,” Felassan said. “Even demons can be made more aggressive and violent if pulled through the Veil too sharply. If the circle is broken, there’s a chance that Imshael will be less disposed towards violence, because the circle is no longer conflicting with his spirit nature. But, of course, that all depends on what his nature is, and what Thelhen wants him to do.”
“Exactly,” Andoriel nodded. “Forbidden Ones aren’t like ordinary spirits and demons. Others correspond with emotions However, Forbidden Ones are funny, in that they act more like people in the physical world, encompassing a wider range of emotions. There’s a theory that they once were physical people, powerful mages who somehow bound their essence to spirits. So the situation is a little delicate.”
“What do we do?” Briala asked. “You still haven’t told us a plan.”
“I want to get close to the summoning circle before I do anything,” Andoriel said. “But Thelhen’s been keeping me away. Once I get a look at the thing, we can decide what to do from then on.”
“How are we to get past the guards?” Celene asked.
“I’d been hoping the lad here might help with that,” Andoriel thumped Felassan’s shoulder. “You're one of Thelhen’s, yes?”
“Clan Virnehn is not my birth Clan,” Felassan said. “But they know me, yes.”
Andoriel gave him a funny look. “Right. So, you might be able to talk some sense into Thelhen.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”
“You can also tell me how to get past him without fighting him head-on.”
Felassan grinned. “Now that is something I can do.”
Felassan returned to the Dalish camp, to see one very specific person. He found Mihris, the First to Thelhen, sitting on the branch of a tree, high above the ground, her face pinched and worried. She was very far away from the rest of the Clan, which was odd. He looked up at her.
“Mihris.”
Mihris startled and looked down at him. “Oh! Felassan. Hello. I thought you’d left. Thelhen was angry you’d taken the shemlen.”
Felassan shook his head. “No. I went to see the Ambassador.”
“With the shemlen, too?”
“Yes.”
Mihris wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
“Come down, and I may tell you.”
Mihris sighed and shimmied down the tree. “What is it? Don’t tell me it’s more foolishness with shemlen and flat-ears...”
Felassan frowned at her phrasing, but shook his head. “It’s about this demon Thelhen has summoned,” he said.
“Oh,” Mihris looked away from him. “Of course.”
Felassan peered at her. “What do you think of it?”
Mihris shrugged and avoided his gaze. “It said it could help us.”
“You know demons lie.” this was not always the case, in Felassan’s experience, but it was something Mihris knew well.
“Yes, but...” Mihris bit her lip and finally looked at Felassan. “Isn’t it worth it? For—for even a small piece of the past?”
“There’s other things to look to, da’len,” Felassan’s expression was unfathomably sad for a moment, before he collected himself. “Do you really agree with what Thelhen is doing?” Felassan asked. “Summoning a Forbidden One? You must know the danger this puts your Clan in.”
Mihris’ lip curled. “I know,” she said. “Thelhen says the rewards outweigh the risks, but...” she trailed off.
“But what?” he urged.
“But I don’t know,” she admitted. “That Ambassador woman said that someone had already restored an eluvian—that she could show us if Thelhen would just stop and listen.”
“That’s what she told me, too.”
“Do you believe her?”
Felassan paused. “I believe she is right when she says she can help.”
“And how does she want to help? So far, she’s just shouted at the Keeper and fought with us.” Mihris folded her arms.
“She wants to get closer to the circle you have kept the demon inside, to see how dangerous it is.” Felassan toyed with the end of his braid.
Mihris still looked very dubious. “What if she’s wrong?” she asked. “What if she’s lying about the eluvians? What if she just wants ours?”
“Mihris, she is as Dalish as you are,” he said, exasperated. “She is no Templar or Chevalier to be mistrusted so. She isn’t even a city elf. She is one of your family, is she not?”
Mihris narrowed her eyes at him. “’Your’ family?”
“Ours, yours, whichever. Mihris, please. All she wants is to look. She wants to help—she cares for the safety of your Clan, for all the People.”
Mihris paused for a long moment, then heaved a sigh. “Alright,” she said. “I can take you there.”
Felassan grinned. “Thank you, da’len.”
“Don’t call me that,” she chided him. “You can’t be much older than me.”
“Oh, you would be surprised. Quickly, now. Time runs short.”
Mihris got Andoriel and Felassan past the guards of the circle with ease. Andoriel’s mage friends kept Thelhen busy, so he was distracted, and Mihris got rid of the other hunters. Briala tagged along with Felassan, and Mihris had protested at first, but Felassan cited the use of a non-magical fighter in warding off demons. Mihris had been skeptical, calling Briala a flat-ear hardly better than a shemlen, but when Andoriel told her off, she had agreed. Celene and Michel stayed behind, as they would draw much more attention than was desired.
The circle was about a half-mile away from the camp, in a clearing surrounded by huge, ancient trees.
In the center of the circle stood a man.
At least, he appeared like a man. His form wavered strangely, as if in a heat haze. He wore a long, feathered coat, and had blond hair that reached his shoulders. Briala stared at him, fascinated, and found he didn't quite come into focus for her.
He grinned as he looked at them.
“Well,” he said. “Isn’t this a surprise?”
Andoriel got to work examining the circle, kneeling down to peer at the symbols painted on the ground. The symbols gleamed with magic, and she hummed in thought as she looked at them.
“And who are you?” Imshael asked her, tilting his head to stare down at her. “Perhaps that ambassador I’ve been hearing so much about? My, my, you just might be.”
“These are simple binding spells,” Andoriel said, ignoring Imshael. “There doesn’t appear to be a conflict with his nature, so the possibility of violence won’t change.”
Imshael folded his arms. “Violence? My word, girl, but you mortals are alarmist, aren’t you?”
“How do you want to get rid of him?” Felassan asked, glancing from Imshael to the circle.
“Get rid of me?” Imshael pressed a hand to his chest, offended. “And after all I have promised you! Mihris, tell these people what a help I’ve been.”
“You haven’t helped anything yet,” Mihris informed him with a slight frown. “Just stood there and told us things. Demons lie.”
“I’m no demon,” a smirk toyed at the corners of his mouth. “I’m a choice spirit.”
Felassan snorted.
Imshael’s eyes alighted on Felassan, tilting his head to one side and looking Felassan up and down. “You disagree?”
“A Forbidden One, a simple choice spirit? Hardly.”
Imshael rolled his eyes. “And you would know, wouldn’t you?” he suddenly smiled, lips pulling away from his teeth in a startlingly predatory fashion that was at odds with his human appearance. “Ah, but you absolutely would know.”
“What would it take for you to leave voluntarily?” Andoriel asked, putting her hands on her hips.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Imshael cradled his chin in his hands. “I rather want to be set free, if it’s all the same to you.”
“Why can’t you just free yourself?”
“You were just looking at the summoning circle, weren’t you? You should be able to tell.”
“Thelhen must have weakened him,” Felassan said, staring down at the circle. “Pulling him through the Veil. Clever...”
“Yes, yes, the Keeper is ever so clever,” Imshael waved a hand. “Now, if you simply want me to leave—well, I suppose I could. I’m getting the feeling that something terribly exciting is going on, and I can’t see it very well from where I’m standing.”
Andoriel tapped her lip. “How are we to get rid of him?” she asked. “I suppose we could just set him free and see if he leaves on his own, but I’m not sure how much I like that idea.”
“Why don’t I tell you something marvelous, in exchange for my freedom?” Imshael gave them a grin. “Tell me, what do you know of eluvians?”
“We already have those,” Andoriel said, her tone brusque.
“What?” Imshael looked surprised for a moment.
“Maybe we could kill him?” Briala suggested. “How does one kill a demon?”
“Enough force can do it, but we’d have to have enough force in the first place,” Andoriel said. “And he might be too much for us unbound. He’s hardly a normal demon.”
“Excuse me, did I hear you say you already had an eluvian?” Imshael broke in.
“What business is it of yours?” Andoriel asked. “Either way, you’re a spirit, or a demon—you’re hardly in a position to make an eluvian work. You need a physical one as well as the connection to the Fade.”
Imshael stared at her. He seemed speechless.
“What do you think, Mihris?” Andoriel asked, turning to her. “How did Thelhen summon him?”
“Leave it to elves to ruin bloody everything!” Imshael exclaimed suddenly, and they all looked at him. “Can you lot not make up your minds? First the Keeper wants all the secrets of Elvhenan, and now you come swanning in saying you’ve already got them?” he threw up his hands. “What is a choice spirit supposed to make of that?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Briala said. “We need to make a decision, and soon.”
“Here’s a decision,” Imshael huffed. “Let me out of this dratted circle, and I’ll find someone else to pick on. This is ridiculous.” he rolled his eyes. “You try and have some fun, and someone comes in and ruins it for you. Honestly...”
Mihris looked up. “Fun?” she hissed, staring at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, of course I have a way to make some eluvians in the local network activate,” Imshael waved a hand. “But it’s just a patch job—just one keystone and one little password. I thought it would be funny to tell you all about it and watch you fall all over yourselves trying to make it work.”
“You what?” Mihris growled, stepping towards the circle.
“Mihris...” Andoriel cautioned her, putting out an arm. “He’s trying to bait you.”
Mihris ignored Andoriel and pushed past her to stand just on the edge of the circle. “You thought it fun to toy with us? We have been trying--” Mihris choked. She shook her head and turned away. “Kill it,” she told Andoriel. “Find a way to kill it.” she cursed in Dalish to herself. “I knew it. I knew summoning a blasted demon would be a bad idea...”
“Perhaps there is a way to turn the circle from trapping to killing,” Felassan leaned down and examined the runes that held the circle closed. “Ah—here we are.”
Andoriel peered over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, it’s an old trick of mine,” Felassan said, altering some of the ruins while Imshael watched, looking worried.
“Oh, really,” Imshael huffed. “You are a bloody nuisance, you know that?”
“Another one here, and—there we are,” Felassan finished and straightened up.
All was quiet for a moment, before everything inside the circle burst into flames.
“Go and ruin it then, why don’t you?” Imshael shouted, before the flames went out, and there was nothing more remaining.
“Is he dead?” Briala asked.
“Who is to say?” Felassan looked at the circle. “In any case, he is gone.”
“What was that you did?” Andoriel asked.
“A quick method of dispelling or killing a trapped spirit—marvelous for any time you wish to disrupt the spell of someone you’re annoyed with.”
Andoriel stared at him, then at the circle, then opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Thelhen bursting into the clearing. He was accompanied by several hunters, and they all gaped at the empty circle.
“Do you know what you've done?” Thelhen snarled, turning on Andoriel.
“Saved your Clan's hide, is what,” Andoriel said, eyeing the spot where Imshael had been standing.
Thelhen stalked towards Andoriel, but Mihris was suddenly between them, her staff out.
“Keeper!” Mihris snapped.
“Mihris...” Thelhen breathed, looking at her with an expression of dawning horror.
Mihris straightened her back. “What you are doing is wrong, Keeper,” she said, her voice loud enough to be carried far. “This is not the way to restore what was. It was wrong. That demon was lying to us—toying with us!”
The other elves began to murmur amongst themselves.
“You put the Clan in danger,” Mihris said, pointing an accusing finger at Thelhen. “If we had been hurt or killed, it would have been your fault, and nothing would have been gained from it.”
“The eluvians--”
“It was a lie,” Mihris voice was cold. She shook her head. “I revoke your title. You are no longer the Keeper.”
There was a shocked silence, then Thelhen’s face contorted in rage. “You cannot do that,” he said.
“I have the right!” Mihris snapped over him. “You have put our Clan in danger! You are no longer fit to be Keeper!”
Andoriel put a hand on Mihris’ shoulder. “She’s right,” she said. “You endangered your Clan. She is perfectly within her rights to remove you.”
“But...” Thelhen looked around. His hunters looked at each other, then Mihris.
“Mihris...” one of the hunters said. “You’re so sure?”
“Absolutely,” Mihris said. “It said as much. It wanted to toy with our Clan, not help us. And it being here is Thelhen’s fault.”
The hunters all turned to glare at Thelhen.
“I was doing what was best!” he raised his hands.
“No, you were doing what you thought was best,” one of the hunters snapped. “Mihris—what do we do with him?”
Mihris looked a little surprised, then regained her composure. “I’m—not sure,” she said. “But I don’t want anyone listening to him anymore. We need to take the Clan away from here.”
They locked Thelhen in one of the aravels while they decided what to do with him. Mihris gathered the Clan together, and they had a meeting. Felassan was at the meeting, but Andoriel, Briala, Celene and Michel went back to Andoriel’s camp.
“Well, that was cleared up rather nicely, if I do say so myself,” Andoriel said.
“What’s going to happen now?” Briala asked her.
“I’m not sure,” Andoriel admitted. “I’d like to have another word with Mihris, and then your friend Felassan.”
“Why do you care about what he says?” Celene asked.
“Because he cares about what you have to say, Majesty,” Andoriel said, regarding Celene with a cool gaze. “Any Dalish elf who does that is interesting, to say the least.”
“Do you believe the Dalish will aid us?” Celene asked.
“One Clan is not all Dalish. if you wish to gain Dalish alliance, you might first learn the difference between a single Clan and our entire population.” Andoriel’s tone grew more frosty. “And Clan Virnehn? Almost certainly not.”
“I see,” Celene said, pursing her lips.
“What then?” Briala asked.
Andoriel sighed. “As I said, I have my own errand to complete,” she explained. “I still wish to speak with Keeper Mihris, and then I need to return to Orzammar.”
“Orzammar?” Michel raised his eyebrows. “What business would you have there?”
“How did you think I came over the Frostbacks?” Andoriel asked. “It wasn’t taking the trails over them, I can tell you that.”
“I see,” Michel said, blinking.
“In any case, if you return to Orzammar with me, I am sure Queen Aeducan would be able to offer her help,” Andoriel said.
“Do you truly believe so?” Celene asked, surprised. “I had not considered that.”
Andoriel nodded. “You are not in a quarrel with her, and if you ask her for sanctuary, she would likely give it.”