In League With The Wolf - The Elves of Fen'Harel Book 2 (Dragon Age)

Mythal'enaste

Nanin led them a little deeper into the Wilds. They reached a ruin where four of the elves had paused. Greer and Dawlish were still alive thankfully, kneeling. Their hands were bound. Greer's face was bloody.

"Will they listen to you, Nanin?" Tilda asked.

"I doubt it." He grimaced. "They were loathe to spare me the first time."

"Then I must confront them." Tilda said. "Don't come out unless I'm going to die." Marcus opened his mouth to protest, but she was already moving, stepping out in front of the strange elves.

They all had the same golden eyes, she noticed.

"Tilda no!" Dawlish groaned at the sight of her. "You should have run."

"Let them go." Her voice shook as bows were pointed at her chest. She had no doubt they could kill her in an instant. But they seemed taken aback at her audacity. "We mean no harm."

One of them chuckled. "Ma harel, da'len." He said viciously. Solas used the term da'len and it always felt warm, an endearment. From this man's lips it was an insult.

She felt foolish, standing there, unable to understand them. One strode towards her, seizing her, blade in his hand, yanking back her head by the hair. He was going to kill her. And then his eyes, the eyes of all of them, alighted on her necklace.

"Mythal'enaste!" The one holding her gasped out, releasing her.

"Mythal'enaste!" The others said. They began talking rapidly among themselves in elven.

"Where did you obtain that?" One of them finally said to Tilda. If anything, they looked more hostile than ever.

"My mother gave it to me." She answered. My mother who abandoned me, who used me.

"She must have stolen it!" Another snarled. "This pitiful excuse for an elf could not wield the power that was Mythal's."

Tilda glared at them. Would it even work now?

She put her hand to the necklace. Mother, if you're out there, if you ever cared, help me now. She sent the thought out into the void, and something answered. That strange, exhilarating wildness filled her once more, emanating from the pendant and into her body, filling her with power that lit her from the inside out.

It felt almost familiar this time, like an embrace. White light leaking from her pores, from her eyes, hair drifting on an invisible breeze, she gazed at the elves. "Let my friends go." She said in a voice layered with many voices, a fact which only momentarily frightened her.

The last one to speak to her waved a hand and the bindings on Greer and Dawlish fell loose. Her friends were gazing at her with fear and awe. The elves were kneeling one after another, their heads bowed.

What did it mean? She backed up towards the trees. She wasn't as out of control. Not this time...not since she hadn't used the power. Instead, it was running through her. "Ma serannas." She said shakily, using the few words of elven she knew. "Now go." It was better not to demand answers, better not to push her luck.

They rose, staring at her with those inscrutable golden eyes, and fled. They didn't look back.

Nanin and Marcus emerged from the trees. Nanin hung back, frightened. But Marcus approached her, as she breathed rapidly, trying to suppress the power.

"Don't touch me!" She said quickly to him, staring into his worried eyes. "It will destroy you."

"I'm not leaving your side." His voice was shaking, despite his smile. "So how did you stop this before?"

"Solas." Tilda swayed. "And then Kieran. Just...give me a minute." She closed her eyes, pushing it down, inwards, back into the darkness it had risen from. She fell forwards as it dissipated, into Marcus's waiting arms. "I'm fine." She took a few deep, experimental breaths. "Greer, Dawlish, are you alright?"

"Yes, Guardian." Dawlish said, "Thanks to you." They were all looking at her as if she was the Inquisitor, or the Commander or Leliana.

"How did you...?" Greer's voice trailed off. "Who are you?"

"Just Tilda." She shrugged. Grey Warden. Daughter of Flemeth. Guardian of Adamant. "We should go, while we can."

They camped close to where the Inquisition armies would be making their forward camp, an unlikely group of four elves and Marcus. Tilda treated Greer's wounds and Nanin's injured leg. They were tense, as if everyone were biting their tongue. Tilda sat heavily, Marcus's arm around her, rubbing her back.

"Who were they?" Dawlish asked. His voice was shaky. "Those elves, they were so different to us: bigger, stronger, and their magic..."

"But they were scared of Tilda." Greer murmured. "I think I am too." Tilda flinched. This was what she had feared, that her friends would turn on her. She couldn't take another betrayal, another abandonment.

She stood, feeling tired tears flooding her eyes.

Greer looked at her sharply. "Tilda, that's not what I meant. You are terrifying, but you're amazing. You saved our lives."

Tilda paused. "The necklace was given to me by the apostate who raised me. She's very powerful. She told me it was a last resort. It's how I saved everyone at Adamant."

"They recognised it." Marcus nodded. "Those elves."

"What did it mean?" Greer asked Nanin, "The words they said to Tilda?"

"You mean when they said Mythal'enaste?" Nanin answered. "It means Mythal's blessing. Their vallaslin, the markings on their face were of Mythal too."

"Solas told me the necklace is ancient, and elven." Tilda gave a wry smile.

"I don't understand any of it." Dawlish shook his head.

"The elves killed Peeler, spared Nanin because he's Dalish ,captured you two. They almost slit Tilda's throat but I rescued her, because I've been banished. Nanin found us and we found you. That about sums it up." Marcus said dryly.

"You're banished?" Dawlish gaped.

Within a day the Inquisition forces had arrived. Tilda was in a state of nervousness, wondering what her friends would say about her magic, about the elves. She needn't have worried. They stood as a group before Leliana, Lavellan and Commander Cullen. Nanin described the elves and what had happened to Peeler. Greer and Dawlish spoke of being captured. And then very casually, Greer said that the others and come to the rescue and they had escaped. No one questioned the details, and the spies had blank faces.

They would be masters of Wicked Grace, Tilda thought.

Greer and Dawlish received new orders, and Nanin was assigned a role in the operation. Tilda declared she and Marcus would help him. Lavellan laughed aloud. "From what Leliana says of you, and what I've seen, I dare say we couldn't stop you if we tried."

Together, they roamed among the army.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Tilda demanded of her friends.

"You're another elf among the Shem." Nanin shrugged. "I don't betray kin, even if you are a flat ear." He smirked, moving off.

Greer and Dawlish had small satisfied smiles on their faces. "Like Nanin says, you're one of us. We're loyal to the Inquisition's cause, but you..." Dawlish paused thoughtfully. "You're like our leader, our friend. It's you who's been out in the field saving lives, not them."

"What Dawlish means is that we're here for you, Guardian." Greer tossed her head, dark braid bouncing about her shoulders. "Always."