Dragon Age Origins: The Tale of Solana

Chapter 11: Wynne

As the young elven woman approached the largest of all the arches that stood right before the war camp, an older shem stood guard and saluted her. "This place hasn't seen such bustle in centuries, I'll wager. Need a hand getting anywhere?"

It surprised Solana again at how causal the soldiers were to a random elven woman running around. This must be where all the decent shems came to play hero, she laughed. "Actually, yes! I'm looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair?"

The man nodded, and rubbed his chin that had a five o'clock shadow growing. "Hmm... Try heading north. I think he was sent with a message to the mages."

Solana could barely stop her eyebrows from shooting up. "Mages?"

The guard chuckled, "Yes little lady, mages. Don't be too scared however, we have competent Templars here to watch over them."

Solana breathed a sigh of relief. She had never really met a mage, but she had heard the most horrible stories from the other families of Denerim. Demon possessed, some were, and abominations that ran amok. How they killed without mercy, and how Templars have to kill some to protect the rest of the mages. The thought sent shivers down her back. She hoped she wouldn't run into much of them.

She said goodbye to the nice gentleman and headed towards the right. She walked only a short distance before she saw an enclosed area where people, human and elf, were fluttering their hands in the air causing blue wisps to envelope them. She was stunned stiff where she stood with sudden fear.

Mages. She swallowed hard and avoided the area like it had the plague.

Her pace quickened past the zone to one she knew well: a large open area with a stage and a priest who was shouting some of the Chant of Light. She was a fair looking woman, a shem like Solana had figured. They never allowed the elven women to be priests, or even a lay-sister. She never understood, though, why forbid an elf who wants to dedicate her life to the Chantry?

"We stand here, in this hour, good folk of Ferelden," Solana managed to catch. She turned to listen to the woman. "Death is no failure, my friends. Should it find you, you will not have failed your king... You will have served your Maker."

Solana turned, tuning the speech quickly out. She didn't want to think about dying just quite yet. She began to walk away when she saw an elderly lady watching her from over by a tree. The woman's eyes peered down Solana with intense perspective knowledge. The grey eyes seemed to be reading her very life story by one simple glance. She held a long, craggy staff next to her that she almost seemed to lean on for support in her older age.

Wynne studied the young woman. She was cautious, young, and curious. Her eyes darting around as if she had never been in the outside world before. Her actions reminded Wynne much of her young apprentices of their first experience outside the tower. As she noticed Wynne, her demeanor changed. Her shoulders sloped, her hands tightened into fists. She was on alert. As she approached, Wynne studied her confident walk. She remembered when she was young and bold as such. Ah, to be young again.

"Greetings, young lady. You are Duncan's newest recruit, are you not? He's not a man easily impressed. You should be proud." Solana's eyes narrowed in confusion. Wynne gave a small laugh, "I saw you two approach the edge of the bridge together. I put one and one together.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king. My fellows are over by the Templars preparing wards and other enchantments for our cause."

Solana took a small step back. She had already ran into more mages than she has ever seen, but to be right in front of one? She had to keep her legs from trembling out of control. The older woman had to be at least over sixty, surely she was no threat. Solana took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I am Solana."

Wynne couldn't help but notice the flash of fear cross the young woman's face. Her pale features gave too much away. "Well met, and good luck to you on the battlefield. To us all, in fact."

"Will you be fighting beside the king?" Solana hadn't meant to sound surprised, but she was worried about so many mages clustering in one area. Even though Wynne looked competent, not all mages she had seen looked quite as experienced. But, then again, what did Solana know? She was as persecuted as mages were, but in a different light. The old stories of abominations still worked in the back of her mind.

"Not precisely. The Grey Wardens will be on the front lines," Wynne went on to explain, "not the mages. Still, we have our parts to play."

Solana watched how noble Wynne began to look as she stood straighter. "To defeat the darkspawn, we have to work together. It's not an idea everyone seems able to grasp."

"You've faced darkspawn before?" Solana pushed the old worry aside for a new found respect for the shemlen woman. She pondered what a mage would do in the circumstance of an evil dark monster. Do mages have deadly spells or curses they cast? Solana needed to know!

Wynne watched the change of expression on the girl's face with a hilarity to it. She cleared her throat to keep from laughing. "Stragglers, yes--not the vast horde the scouts speak of. I wonder... How much do you know of the connection between darkspawn and the Fade?"

Solana pondered it. The Fade... Most of what she knew was from the Chantry's Chant of Light here and there. She never really believed in the creatures, truly. Or the Blights. She figured it was all fantasy, old war stories twisted and turned to fit shemlens' weird fantasies. She guessed Wynne probably knew more about it.

What she did know of the Fade was that it is where one goes after one dies. Or, so she assumed. Was that not correct? "Isn't the Fade the land of the dead," she asked.

Wynne waved her hand around, making small wisps of blue and green float about. "Any time your spirit leaves your earthly body," she made a small ghostly blue man, and she showed a green orb leave the man as he fell, "whether it's to dream or die, it passes into the realm we call the Fade. It's home to many spirits, some benevolent, others far less so."

Solana watched the show in awe. There, the floating green wisp danced around the blue benevolent spirit and ran away from the large, red orbs. It was, well, like magic! Solana eyes the light show as a knowledgeable insight into something strange and terrifying. Maybe if she knew more about magic, she wouldn't be so afraid of it?

Wynne went on, producing a black fire, that took the image of what appeared to be a kingdom. "At the heart of the Fade," she went on to say, "lies the Black City."

"I've heard that," Solana piped up. She glanced between Wynne and the Black City. "Didn't something bad happen there?"

The older woman nodded a simple yes. "Some say the Black City was once the seat of the Maker. But when mages from Tevinter Imperium found a way into the City, it was tainted with their sin. That taint transformed those men, turning them into twisted reflections of their own hearts. And the Maker cast them back to the earth, where they became the first darkspawn. At least, that's what the Chant of Light says."

Solana watched the lights fade away. It was like in the blink of an eye, as if they were never there. It was informative, but even Solana had her doubts about the Chant of Light. She didn't doubt a Maker, just something seemed odd about the Chant of Light and the Chantry. "The Chantry says many things," she added a bit of distaste.

Wynne shrugged. "It may be allegory, meant to teach us that our own evil causes human sufferings. Or it may be true. It is as good an explanation as any, for now."

"At least it's something to ponder."

"Yes, occasionally it's wise to contemplate one's actions. But I'm certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me." With that, Wynne took her leave. She, too, had much to prepare for, and had only came to the stage to listen to the words of the priest.