Chapter 37: Miriam

A few days later the party of four had made it to their destination. Along the way, she and Sorin grew to be fast friends, bonding over their shared occupation, and Oghren and Owayne got on thicker than thieves with their shared bond of debauchery. Evelyn had to admit to herself, that the pair of Grey Wardens was not what she expected, yet if they could prove to her their capabilities for hunting down darkspawn, that's all that really mattered. For once, as an Avvar, she was out of place dressed in a nice maroon linen tunic and pants under her Avvish-made leather armor. Her brother still kept to his roguish outs of mostly leather, while the Wardens wore their traditional Silverite and blue studded armor.

The walls of Stone-Bear Hold cast long shadows in the midday sun, stretching out across the undulating hills and fields. Sorin and Evelyn walked side by side, the rhythmic crunch of their footsteps on the dusty path the only sound in the otherwise serene landscape. Their other two companions were dragging behind them, the Knight-Enchanters having forgotten their dwarven ally had shorter legs. As they crested a small hill, a faint melody reached their ears, carried on the breeze like a whisper from a distant dream.

"Maker, though I am but one, I have called in Your Name,

And those who come to serve will know Your Glory. I remembered for them.

They will see what can be gained, and though we are few against the wind, we are Yours."

The song was hauntingly familiar to Evelyn; its words were ones she didn't expect to hear in these lands. "The Chant of Light," she murmured, tilting her head to catch the melody more clearly. "Do you hear it, Sorin?"

The Warden nodded, his eyes narrowing with curiosity, as they slowed their pace. "I do. It's coming from over there." He pointed towards a cluster of buildings in the distance outside of the walls, partially obscured by the tall, swaying grasses. From what she knew of Redhold's layout, there were several tradesmen shops and farms outside of the protective wall, all of whose purposes were not suited for the bulk of the Hold's populace to live near. They were usually dirty or smelly jobs, best kept away from the center of the clan's area for commerce and worship.

Following the sound, the song grew clearer with each step, leading them to a clearing where a small farmhouse stood. Behind it, they spotted a crude pigsty, and there, amidst the stench and muck of the place, a frail woman toiled. Her face bore a black swollen eye and her emaciated frame moved with the slow deliberate motions of one accustomed to hard labor. Tattered clothes hung from her like rags, exposing a patchwork of old and new scars across her pale skin. Her long, dirty hair was so matted that it looked like a bird's nest. Yet, despite her wretched condition, her voice rose steadily with a melodic lilt of a Ferelden. She sang the Chant of Light, each note carrying a poignant beauty that stood in stark contrast to the filth around her.

As they watched, a man stormed out of the farmhouse. His face twisted with anger, he advanced on the woman, a whip in his hand. "Stop singin' 'bout your Lowlander god, you worthless bitch!" Without hesitation, he brought the whip down on the woman's back, her song breaking into a cry of pain.

Evelyn's eyes blazed with anger, but she had learned from her time among the Avvar that her brazen and hasty actions were not always received well. When the whip came down again, she mumbled a curse as her tolerance for the scene had run out despite knowing it was a bad idea. "Stop!" She shouted authoritatively, striding over down the worn dirt path to the livestock pen. The pyromancer's patience snapped as the man ignored her. The last time someone raised a whip to her she burned it along with its wielder. Raising her hand, a flicker of flame danced at her fingertips. "I said, stop!" Igniting her mana, she incinerated the weapon of this poor wretch's torture.

The farmer turned, his eyes widening in fleeting fear as he watched the flames eating away at the leather whip. Incensed, he spun on a heel forgetting about the woman and charging Evelyn in true Avvar-fashion. "Who are ye?! And what business do ye have 'ere to go on meddlin' in mine?"

"I am Evelyn Rutherford, the Lady of Redhold, The Phoenix, and someone who won't stand by while you abuse this woman." He stared at her wide-eyed as if in disbelief at all the titles thrown at him, so Evelyn added coldly, "Leaver her be, or I'll take it personally."

The man hesitated, then sneered, "Ye have no authority 'ere, this wench is me prop—" Before he could finish, Evelyn raised her hand again, the mark upon it glowing with an intense, crimson light. In an instant, fiery wings erupted from her back, each feather a blazing inferno. The flames roared to life, searing the air between them, its heat palpable and fierce. The man's bravado disintegrated, replaced by stark terror that twisted his features as he stumbled backward, unable to tear his eyes away from the formidable figure she had become. Getting up to take a knee and hitting his fist over his heart, he muttered some apology to her, but Evelyn's attention was elsewhere.

Sorin rushed to the woman's side, his movements careful as he gently lifted her from the filth, uncaring for his own cleanliness. Her frail body moved weightlessly in his arms, but her eyes, wide and full of wonder, were fixed on Evelyn. Tears began to stream down her dirt-streaked face. "Andraste preserve me, you came. You finally came, Herald," she whispered, her voice a mix of disbelief and relief.

Before the pyromancer could question what she meant, the woman fainted in Sorin's arms, her emotion overtaking her. Fresh blood stood out in contrast against Sorin's blue and silver Warden armor. "Do you know any healing spells?" The pale-eyed mage looked up through his raven locks, shaking his head. Turning her ire back on the farmer, she was curious about how this Lowlander woman came to find herself a slave of these Avvar. "Who is this woman?"

"Mage," Sorin interjected. Pressing a hand on his patient's shoulder she could feel the magical forces flowing within her.

"She's a Lowlander, captured near our border tryin' to spread the beliefs of her false gods. She refuses to respect our ways, so now she a slave." The man's rough accent was clearer now that he calmed down. His green eyes looked to her expectantly while Sorin's were still trained and hardened on him. By this time, Owayne and Oghren had rejoined the group to see what was going on.

Evelyn was in a tricky spot. Every burning fiber of her being wanted to tell Sorin to fade-step into the woods and hide with the woman, but she knew she couldn't. While Cullen wouldn't have ever allowed anyone to take a slave – he, having more sense and humanity, thankfully - than most of the Thanes - law differed by Hold. Svarah, as she gleaned off of people talking about her, was more traditional and led her clan by the old ways. The Thane also had no remorse for Lowlanders, as it was they who stole her mage daughter from her. Gazing down at the woman, Evelyn couldn't help but see herself almost a year ago. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of what would've happened to her if she was not linked to the prophecy. The only difference was that Evelyn was too hotheaded and they would've got more joy out of killing her than making her work. The sudden emergence of the memory of her own escape from here brought forth a seething heat to her aura.

"Is she your slave or does she belong to the Hold?" Evelyn's question creased the brow of every man in her current company.

"She belongs to the clan, but I have need of her now to muck the stalls. Tomorrow, I'll take her back for someone else to make use of her."

"I see. Do you live alone? Have a wife?" The Phoenix's words had an edge to them.

His eyes narrowed on her, "And wot business is that of yours, me Lady?"

Stepping closer to him, she studied his appearance with more depth realizing that she had met the farmer before. "You… you were present at the dinner Thane Svarah held when I was last here." He blinked his emerald mossy green eyes a few times trying to ward away the color rising in his cheeks, and swallowed hard. Evelyn's mana flared at the realization, and her orange eyes flickered at the girl lying limp beside them. "Tell me," she stepped as close to the ripe-smelling man as she dared, "did you rape the Lowlander, like you tried to rape me?"

"What?!" Owayne hadn't heard the story.

"Answer me," the Lady of Redhold growled menacingly. Owayne tried to step in but she was so rooted in her spot, she pushed him away with a heavy hand. "I have a hot temper with a short fuse, so I," and suddenly she was yelling, "would hurry up and answer before I--"

"Yes! Hakkon's balls, I did, but I wasn't the only one!"

To her left, she felt Sorin's mana charging for an attack but gave him a firm command to cease. At the same time, her brother was going mad spitting out questions and curses at her, making her forget about their other companion. Oghren, who was somehow able to remain silent for longer than a few seconds, found a large hunk of wood and walloped the farmer on the head, knocking him out cold.

"What? We were all thinkin' it." The heavy limb fell beside the man in the dirt with a thud.

Seeing the events that had transpired, one of the guards must've alerted the Hold's Thane to the scene unfolding just outside the walls. This diplomatic and rescue mission was already off to a great start…

As the Thane's entourage walked briskly towards them, her brother hit her arm. "Evie," Owayne growled matching her tone just a moment ago, "you better start explaining. What kind of mess are we walking into here?"

She waved a dismissive hand at him, "Just… I will, let me handle the Thane first. And for the Korth's sake, would the three of you just stop all your shit!" Glancing at each in warning, Evelyn brushed the dust from the road off her pants and straightened her breezy linen shirt.

Once finished the Thane, dressed in a comfortable cotton dress and short ceremonial bear mantle, approached with a taut smile. "Welcome, Phoenix, or should I say, Lady of Redhold! A late congratulations on yer weddin' and arse kickin' of the wolfish welp."

Evelyn graciously bowed her head, controlling her every movement as her mother taught her to do long ago. "Thank you, Thane Svarah. We are happy to have finally arrived, though the journey through the forest in full bloom was stunning."

"Aye, our wetlands are a sight at this time of year, and different to what ye know of the grand forests of Redhold." At the conclusion of her words, she looked around her at the unconscious man lying on the ground. A strawberry blonde eyebrow corked up at her, "I trust he's still breathin'?"

"He is, and so is she," Evelyn made a point of saying since she cared not for the slave. "We had a bit of a misunderstanding," she shrugged innocently, though her lips were set firmly. "Your man tested my patience, and I have little for those who tried to lay a finger on me in the past."

With a heavy sigh, she was surprised to see the weight of a deep shame press on Svarah's features. "Aye, come Phoenix. Let's get ye settled." Gesturing to her to follow beside her, Evelyn fell into place as they entered the Hold. "Who are yer companions?" She introduced them in turn, the Thane only growing slightly nervous at the mention of her brother being present. She eyed the elder Trevelyan over her shoulder as he stomped along behind, looking like a Mabari ready to snap at anyone who ventured too close. "Warden Cyrus," he turned a cold glare at her, "you can give her to our healers."

"Not a chance," Sorin's stoic voice was low.

"I think, Thane, the Warden would like to see to her treatment personally. And I would see it as an overture of friendship - and forgiveness- if you'd let him." It was a bold request, but Evelyn was in a position to ask such a thing of Svarah.

Watching her shoulders tense under the mantle of the Great Bear, "I suppose, if it would be the bridge to friendship, I'll allow it Phoenix."

"Evelyn, please. Excellent. Thank you, Svarah." She sported her best smile, to which she half-heartedly reciprocated. With a knowing look back to Sorin, he nodded his muted thanks as they continued along.

The clan had already assembled inside the gates to welcome their guests for the foreseeable future until the Blighted land was dealt with. Like at Redhold, there were no small children to be found. The weary faces of those she passed told of their hardship and their averted stares spoke of their shared shame of her past treatment. Evelyn had come a long way since that incident, but the air was thick with unresolved tension that would need to be remedied.

Standing atop the steps of the Great Hall, the Thane addressed her people, "Stone-Bear Hold welcomes The Phoenix!" There was a loud cheer that thankfully put smiles on some of the faces before her. "I think we all wish to extend our deepest apologies for our treatment of ye in the past. If ye could ever forgive us for it, it would be more than we deserve coming from the Champion of Hakkon."

With a hardly noticeable huff at her display, knowing that most in the clan were probably unaware of what transpired until after it happened, Evelyn knew now was not the time to get haughty. "I happily forgive my Avvish brothers and sisters of Stone-Bear Hold. When we last met I was but a Lowlander still confused about my place among you, but since my Initiation, feeling Hakkon's hand press into my flesh in approval, I have never been more proud to be one with you; to fight beside you." The people hung on her every word, reacting loudly and naturally to such praise. "As Lady of Redhold, I know the burden of leadership and the will for survival; to defend one's own against all others. I am here, on the last leg of my journey to complete the prophecy, to cleanse your lands and bring back life to the Basin."

Svarah looked between her clansmen and Evelyn with a wide genuine grin. As they cheered and prayed to Hakkon, the Lady of Redhold stood strong and poised as Cullen had taught her to. As her eyes searched the crowd of strangers, the longing to be back home gripped her. Absently stroking her bonding tattoo, it glowed and pulsed softly; she wondered if her magic was strong enough to make his light up from this far away.

With the formal apology complete they were shown to their quarters. They were staying in their own small longhouse. It had two bedrooms and one common room, so Evelyn bunked with the wounded mage, the Wardens shared the other bedroom, while Owayne volunteered to sleep in the main room. When they were all cleaned up and waiting for their summons for dinner from the Thane, the subject of the incident was broached.

From the quiet of the temporary home, came the raspy grumble of Oghren that eventually formed coherent words. "So, uh, what in blazin' Paragons happened out there? I was even sober and still could not make heads or ass out of what you were speakin' of."

"I too would like to hear this story, sis," Owayne paused as a dark menacing expression overtook him, "so I know who the first one is I will gut!"

She sighed at being validated as to why she did not speak of it to her brother. "I will tell it once, but no one is gutting anyone, Owayne!"

From her bedroom came a low voice, "Can you speak louder so I can hear?" Sorin had not left the woman's side since Evelyn emerged from her room. He gave her a healing potion and cleaned her back with Evelyn's assistance - as he insisted she be present not wanting to compromise the lady's virtue further.

"Yes! Now, it's quite simple. I had just had my first meeting with Hakkon in the Fade, where he gave me this mark. Afterward, he transported me here and I had to prove myself through a test."

"What kind of test?" Her brother was still giving her a suspicious look knowing all too well how crazy her life had become since her disappearance.

"It was the first time he broke my control over my mana and I turned to lava."

"Oh, right," he sat back as if it was a normal thing now, while the dwarf made a strange gurgling sound.

"Anyway, when I awoke, I was here. At the time this was very early on in my residency with the Avvar and I was still a 'Lowlander,' who as you know, has no real rights or power in society. The prophecy states that it is only when I conceive a child will the rest of the Avvar be able to--"

"Err, how exactly does that work? This shit is gettin' weird." Oghren scratched at his bright red hair.

"Best not to think of semantics, because we'll be here for another hour while I explain. Regardless, just go with it." The Warden mumbled something about finding a drink and began looking through everything in the room. "So, with that fact in mind, Svarah believed that if she could convince me, or manipulate me using alcohol and strange mushrooms, I'd agree to marry and sire a child from one of the eligible men here." Owayne's face began to crease downward in a shadow. "Naturally, her ruse did not succeed and I resisted, escaping from the Hold, but not before she ordered that they hunt me down and put a child in me to help the prophecy along."

"These fucking whoresons!" Her male doppelganger shot up and stormed about the room, pushing Oghren out of the way when he passed. "Why are we helping them again?! They should all rot in… in… where ever it is the Avvar rot in!"

"Easy there, prancer. Don't get your breeches in a bunch. It seems everythin' has been smoothed over… except for there not bein' a lick of drink in the whole bloody cabin!" The dwarf slammed down a barrel lid to emphasize his frustration.

"Which is the only reason that girl is lying in the next room. She is their slave by right of capture and they won't give her up without a fight. I'm not sure they will allow us to take her from here."

"But you will try?" Sorin popped his head out of the room, "It is a grievous affront that such a thing befall a mage who was probably traveling with Templars and Chantry Sisters. They should be the ones enslaved, and get a taste of their own torment." The Knight-Enchanter's pale features seemed to darken like a storm cloud as he spoke.

"Of course, I will! But you must understand that I am bound by Hold law. This is not Redhold and I have very little sway here. If anything, I've already used all the leverage I've had just to let her stay with us." Their home was brimming with palpable frustration; though some was because of the lack of mead, which by this point she also sympathized with. Realizing she already played the one card she was hoping to save in case of an emergency, Evelyn knew they'd have to tread carefully. Her companions were Lowlanders, but she could only use that excuse so many times before it became moot.

Mages and Templars, she thought, that's it!

Whirling around and into her room causing Sorin to flee, she dug out her paper, quill, and ink to scribble a quick letter off to her father for his help. If she could pull it off, she would gain immeasurable influence with Svarah…

"H-herald…"

Evelyn froze picking through her pack, to slowly turn her head to the woman. Abandoning her task for the moment, she leaned closer as the mage blinked a few times back at her. For her frail frame with the added injuries, she was resilient. She kept her voice low, "You called me that when I first saw you, what do you mean?"

"Aren't you a Herald of Andraste's mercy sent to save me?" She questioned, her voice quivering, desperate hope filling her tone. With shaking hands, she grabbed Evelyn's hand and held it tight to her chest as if it were a lifeline.

The Phoenix didn't want to laugh, so it came out as a choke, slapping her free hand to her mouth. "The gods love playing jokes on me."

The mage's eyes turned frantic, her breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. Her chest heaved as if she couldn't draw enough air, her fingers trembling violently as they clamped around Evelyn's hand. "Am I wrong? Aren't you here to deliver me?" Her grip was becoming painful. "But your flames and your mark, they are the sign of the Bride's chosen! I am sure of it. Is it--is it because I failed to spread the Chant of Light to the heathens? Is that why you want to forsake me, Herald?"

The pyromancer shifted her legs on the floor beside the mage, her own heart racing as she tried to think quickly. Reasoning with the woman in such a state wasn't going to help, and she didn't want to outright lie, so she opted for a vague answer to calm her down. Evelyn placed her free hand gently on her shoulder, trying to ground her with the contact. "I am here with you. You are safe," she said softly to soothe her nerves. "And I promise, I won't leave you to this fate, lady..." she paused and looked at the woman inquisitively.

The mage's pale eyes locked onto Evelyn's, a flicker of hope fighting through the panic. Her grip loosened just a fraction. "Miriam," she whispered meekly, her voice shaky.

"Miriam, right now, what matters is that you heal and rest. As I said, you are safe with us," she gave her reassuring smile. "I'm here with three other Lowlanders, and two are Grey Wardens."

Miriam's grip on her hand loosened her trembling starting to subside. The wild look in her eyes began to fade, replaced by a tentative peace. She nodded weakly, still clutching Evelyn's hand. "Oh, Maker, what a relief" she mumbled, her voice barely audible. "What a relief."

Evelyn slowly pulled her hand free, ensuring the mage was steady before she turned her attention back to her letter, wondering how many more titles she would collect before this journey ended.