LotS/Dragon Age Fic: Asit Tal-Eb (2/2)
Title: Asit Tal-Eb 2/2 (Read the whole thing at AO3)
Pairing: Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Warnings: Reference to rape/forced breeding, “underage” sexytimes (non-explicit, and they’re considered “of age” in their culture)
Word Count: 13,548
Disclaimer: Neither Legend of the Seeker or Dragon Age are mine, nor are any of the characters contained therein. Qunari language and culture are derived (hopefully as accurately as possible) from BioWare’s Dragon Age series, with the help of the Dragon Age Wiki. Opening excerpt is taken verbatim from the game.
Summary: The Qunari routinely conquer human lands, forcibly converting their inhabitants to the Qun in heavily guarded compounds. In one such place, two young human girls come to depend on one another for comfort and companionship. When their bond grows deeper than the Qun allows, it will prove dangerous for them both.
Part One
Dahlia was still shaking as she paced back and forth next to her cot. The besrathari had assured her that she had done the right thing; Dahlia tried to tell herself that the shame that burned in her chest was because of what she’d almost done, and not because she had confessed her wrongdoing.
Now she was paralyzed with fear, for herself and for Cara. She knew why it was wrong, what they very nearly had done, but it hadn’t felt wrong. She stared down at her cot, remembering the sudden shock of bliss that had flooded her body years ago. Cara had been eager to give her that again, and she had come so close to giving in-had given in-before Cara had unwittingly reminded her of her duty to the Qun. They had managed to escape qamek once before; would they be so fortunate a second time?
“Shok ebasit hissra,” she whispered to herself. She hoped the Qunlat words would help to ground her and ease her anxiety, the way they had in the past. “Maraas shokra.”
It was no use; it had not been the words themselves that calmed her, but Cara’s voice saying them. Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of how Cara must be feeling now; did she know yet that Dahlia had betrayed her? Would she ever look on Dahlia with love and affection again?
There was a scuff of boots on wood at the doorway, and Dahlia spun around, anxious to see her friend, to explain her reasoning. “Cara-”
Her voice cut off abruptly as she saw her visitor. It was not Cara, but rather the besrathari that had fathered her child, years ago. He smiled, stroking his sparse beard as he stepped further into the room. “Is that what you call her?” he asked, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Cara? It’s pretty enough, though of course inappropriate.”
“Why are you here?” Dahlia demanded, trying to sound braver than she felt. “You are assigned to the males. This is a female matter.”
His smile twisted into a lewd smirk as he continued to advance. “Yes, it is entirely a female matter, isn’t it?” His honeyed voice made her skin crawl; Dahlia shuddered, hands clenching at her sides. “I have spoken to the tamassrans,” the besrathari said, tenting his hands in front of him as he finally came to a stop with barely an arm’s length between them. “I’ve convinced them that your…missteps are merely the result of a desire to mate. A sign of fertility, in fact.”
Dahlia frowned, shook her head as dread blossomed in her stomach. “But that’s not-”
A warm calloused finger pressed against Dahlia’s lips, preventing her from speaking further. “It doesn’t matter what you think it is,” he said softly, his eyes flashing dangerously. His finger trailed away from her lips, tracing the line of her jaw as he spoke. “You have a choice, Tallis. You can be mated, with me, and bear a child that will one day serve the Qun as faithfully as you and I, or you can face the same fate as your beloved Cara.”
His touch moved lower, tracing the edge of her bindings, and Dahlia trembled, fear churning in her stomach as her mind raced desperately. What choice did she have?
***
A kind of peace had settled over Cara in the time since she had been taken to the cells. She didn’t know how the besrathari had found out about her latest indiscretion, but it hardly mattered now; she knew there would be no coming back from this. Perhaps when she had endured qamek she would be free of these longings that were such an affront to the Qun.
She only hoped that Dahlia would escape the same fate; she had told the besrathari that it was entirely her own doing, that Dahlia had been the model of Qunari restraint. There was no sense in them both being punished for Cara’s weakness, and perhaps without Cara’s corrupting influence around, Dahlia would be able to submit completely to the Qun.
The one thing Cara regretted was that she would be forced to part with her bow. She held it in her hands now; it was not a threat without arrows to shoot with it, and given her subdued demeanor, she doubted the besrathari would even expect her to put up a fight. She was glad for it; the bow was her lifeline. It seemed foolish, to cling so to her weapon, but it had kept her grounded for so long, and continued to do so now. Just running her fingers over the supple curve of the wood was enough to keep her unease at bay.
Footsteps approached her cell, and Cara’s fingers curled tightly around the shaft of her bow. The door swung open to reveal the last person Cara had ever wanted to see again.
“Cara,” the besrathari said with a cruel smirk. “It is Cara, right? Such a charming little nickname.”
A chill seized her spine at hearing that name from those lips. “What have you done to Dahlia?”
“Oh, fear not,” he assured her, running the back of his fingers down the side of her face. She flinched away, but it only made him smile wider. “Your little-Dahlia, is it?-is quite safe. She’s a lovely girl, by the way,” he said, hunger darkening his steel-blue eyes. “Very dutiful. She confessed everything, you see; how you seduced her all those years ago, how you persisted in your affections, how you seized the opportunity to assault her in the baths.”
“You’re lying,” Cara spat. Dahlia would never turn on her like that, would never twist the truth into something so ugly.
His teeth flashed white in the dim light as his smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Am I? Well, it makes no difference to you in any case. Your fate has already been decided.”
Cara closed her eyes, choking back the fear that gripped her. When she opened them once more, she glared at the besrathari defiantly. “I do not care what happens to me, as long as she is safe.”
“How touching,” he said, fingers trailing freely over her collarbone. “A devotion she would not return. But,” he continued, his fingers pressing her chin up to force her to meet his gaze, “there is a way for you to escape qamek.”
“What are you talking about?” Cara asked, her fingers aching from the white-knuckled grip she had on her bow.
The besrathari’s grin twisted suggestively as he ran his eyes down her body. “Simply agree to come to my bed, whenever I desire it.”
Bile rose in the back of Cara’s throat; she swallowed it back with some difficulty. “I can no longer bear children.”
“That needn’t be a concern,” he said with a shrug. “As long as the wrong people don’t find out about it.”
This was not some deal he had arranged with the tamassrans; he was suggesting the same sort of arrangement he had with other females in the compound, with the tallis that had turned her and Dahlia in last time. Be at his mercy, submit to his desires…she felt sick just thinking about it.
“That would not serve the Qun,” she said firmly, one hand leaving her bow to knock his hand away from her. “And I’d sooner face qamek than have you touch me ever again.”
His smile faltered, anger flashing in his eyes. “As you wish. I’ll leave you to your fate.” He was almost back at the door before he spun on his heel and strode back to her. “I may as well take this with me,” he said with a vicious smirk as he wrested the bow from her grasp. “You won’t be needing it in the work camps.”
Cara watched the door slam behind him, heard the latch slide back into place, and the angry defiance bled from her as she sagged against the stone wall. She was alone now, truly; her hands felt empty with nothing to clutch, but it wasn’t as sharp as the hollowness in her chest. She tried to find that peace again, that acceptance, but knowing that the besrathari had taken an interest in Dahlia had destroyed any hope she might have had for the other woman to make it out of this unscarred.
Perhaps she could escape. She had been dutifully resigned to her fate ever since she was brought here, they wouldn’t be expecting her to go on the offensive. The next time someone came to bring her food, or to question her further, she could attempt to overpower them; find Dahlia and somehow escape the compound.
As though her plans had been heard by some invisible power, she heard the rattling of a key in the lock. She stood, pressing herself against the narrow strip of wall beside the door. When the latch clicked free, she jumped into action, slamming the newcomer against the opposite wall with her hand around his throat.
Then she froze. It wasn’t a besrathari that she had overpowered, or anyone else she recognized. It was a human man, one she couldn’t remember ever seeing, but who still looked vaguely familiar.
“Who are you?” Cara growled, her grip tightening.
He gasped and flailed, pointing at his throat as his face slowly turned an odd shade of purple. Cara rolled her eyes and let her hand fall away; he obviously didn’t pose a threat.
“You’re awfully friendly,” he said dryly, rubbing at his throat.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her eyes darting out the door to ensure that the outer room remained empty.
The man held up a key with a roguish grin. “I’m guessing the Qunari aren’t very familiar with pickpockets.”
Cara sighed and moved into the outer room, searching for something, anything, that would aid her escape. “You should not be here.”
“I was expecting something more along the lines of ‘thank you’.”
Her search turned up nothing but a loose stone. She lifted it in her hands. Not too heavy; it could be used as a bludgeon, if nothing else, though the thought of raising a weapon to her brothers and sisters made her queasy. “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. She looked back at him, and in the brighter light outside the cell she finally placed his face.
“I know you. You are Viddathari,” she said. He had arrived at the compound with a group of pilgrims wanting to join the Qun. So why was he here, helping her escape?
“I prefer Richard,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Cara stared down at his hand in bewilderment. Something tickled at the back of her mind, a distant memory of some human custom; warily, she reached out to clasp his forearm.
“And you’re Cara, right?”
“No,” Cara said, drawing back her hand and looking away. “I am…I was Besrathari. Now I am no longer even that.”
“No,” he said gently, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re more. Just like I’m more than just a ‘viddathari’.”
She turned her gaze back to him, narrowing her eyes in puzzlement. “Why are you doing this? Helping me?”
Richard shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan on it. I was…collecting something.” His hand drifted to his side, where there was a slight bulge in the side of his leather pants. With no pockets or shirt, he apparently had chosen the next best available hiding spot. “I was on my way out when I heard that man talking to you. I couldn’t just leave you here.”
“You are a fool to attempt to steal from the Qunari,” Cara scoffed. “And an even bigger fool for allowing yourself to get sidetracked aiding me.”
“I don’t hear you refusing my help,” Richard pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her. “Whatever ‘qamek’ is, it doesn’t sound like something you’d want to stick around for.”
The distant sound of footsteps caused Cara’s heart to seize in her chest. Her hand tightened around the rock she’d found. “If we don’t get out of here, we will both find out first-hand.”
He cocked his head as the footsteps grew louder, his expression growing serious. “Lead the way.”
***
Cara peered around the door frame, quickly scanning the room. The dormitory was empty save for Dahlia, who was perched on the edge of her cot, furiously sharpening her daggers. Sparing a brief glance behind her to ensure that Richard was keeping watch, Cara slipped into the room.
Dahlia’s head snapped up when she heard Cara’s approach. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “Cara. How did you-”
A smile fought its way onto Cara’s face unbidden as she hurried to Dahlia’s side. She reached out to stroke Dahlia’s cheek, but Dahlia flinched away. Cara frowned. “It’s all right. I’m taking you away from here. He will never threaten you again.” Her hand fell to clasp Dahlia’s, squeezing gently. “Come, Dahlia. We must move quickly.”
Instead of relief, Dahlia’s expression held a combination of fear and guilt. “I cannot go with you,” she said, eyes shining with unshed tears, “and you would not want me to.”
Cara frowned. “Of course I want you to. Dahlia, you will never be safe here, not while he lives.”
“Asit tal-eb,” Dahlia said with a weak smile. “I am where I am supposed to be, kadan. But you-you should go, quickly, before they realize you are gone. I would not wish qamek on you.”
“Dahlia-”
“You don’t understand,” Dahlia said, her voice shaking as violently as her hands. “It was me.”
A sick feeling began to grow in Cara’s stomach. “What was you?”
“I told the besrathari what happened,” Dahlia said, turning away and wiping angrily at her face. “I cannot serve the Qun if I do not learn from my mistakes.”
Cara shook her head, reaching for Dahlia’s hand and plucking the dagger from it, replacing it with her own. “We can be free of the Qun. We no longer need to serve that which keeps us apart.”
“I serve that which gives me purpose,” Dahlia said, yanking her hand back and clutching it to herself. “Without the Qun, I am nothing.”
The worst part was that Cara could see that she believed what she was saying. This was not Dahlia mindlessly reciting the words that were expected of her; she truly believed she was on the right path. A lump grew in Cara’s throat, and she swallowed it back roughly as she stood.
“Very well,” she said stiffly, turning away from the one person who knew her better than anyone in the world. Each step she took slashed at the thread that once held them together, and when she reached the doorway and turned back, she felt something in her snap irrevocably. Somehow, she found the will to speak, her voice raw and hoarse. “Panahedan, Dahlia.”
Dahlia did not look up.
***
Cara stormed out of the dormitory, nearly knocking Richard out of her way. “Let’s go,” she said gruffly, without glancing back.
Richard recovered quickly, falling into step beside her. “She’s not coming?”
“No,” Cara said through gritted teeth, clenching her hands into fists. One hand met resistance, and she looked down to find she still held Dahlia’s dagger. She stopped and turned, glancing back at the doorway; she should return it, but she didn’t think she could face Dahlia again right now-or perhaps ever.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said gently. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but quickly drew it back when she shot him a sharp, quizzical look.
“Don’t be.” She said gruffly, setting off down the corridor again. “I was the fool.”
They walked a few steps in tense silence before Richard found the courage to speak again. “Okay, well I’ve got a few ideas on how we can escape, but you’d probably be a better judge-”
Cara held up a hand to cut him off before he could finish; a grim smile touched the edges of her lips as she looked down at the dagger in her hand. “We have a stop to make first.”
***
The Ben-Hassrath, like most Qunari, slept in communal dormitories, making the most out of what space was available. Only certain titles were granted private chambers, the head male and female besrathari among them. It was for practical reasons, of course; their position required them to be available at any hour day or night to provide counsel or make important training decisions, and it did not make sense to wake an entire dormitory to decide what to do with one troublesome trainee.
The private chambers were also a stroke of good fortune for Cara; the besrathari she was looking for was currently alone in his, admiring the craftsmanship of the bow he had confiscated from her. He turned when she walked through the door, a victorious smirk springing to his lips. “Changed your mind?”
Cara stepped closer, keeping a firm hold on the dagger behind her back. “Hardly,” she said venomously as she came to a stop before him. She was not thoroughly trained in the use of daggers, but for this, she was skilled enough. The man’s arrogance was his undoing; he scarcely had time to register the blade before it sliced through the air, neatly opening his throat.
Her bow clattered to the ground, followed shortly by the besrathari himself, and Cara winced, snatching the weapon up and quickly scanning it for damage. It seemed intact, so she turned her gaze back to the dying man.
“Vashedan,” Cara spat, watching with contempt as the life bled from his body. He would no longer be a threat to anyone. She could not give Dahlia freedom, not if she refused to take it, but she could give her this.
Only when he had stopped convulsing, and the cruel spark had faded from his eyes, did Cara turn to leave.
***
“You love her, don’t you?”
The words froze Cara in her tracks. “The Qunari do not believe in love,” she said flippantly, disguising her misstep by turning deliberately to scan the rolling fields behind them. They were almost to the edge of the compound; the high stone wall loomed ahead. “Not the way bas do. It is a grave offense to value any one person above others.”
When her gaze flicked back to Richard, he was sporting a gentle, knowing smile. “But you do value her,” he said, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “She’s special to you.”
Cara closed her eyes, balling her hands into fists. The wound that Dahlia had inflicted was still fresh, throbbing painfully in her chest. “She was,” she admitted, the words barely above a breath. “Now I am not so sure.”
A warm hand settled on Cara’s shoulder, and she tensed, her eyes snapping open again to fix on Richard. He didn’t draw back this time, though he did have the sense to look uneasy.
“Love isn’t always easy,” he said gently, his voice rich with more than just sympathy, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth feeling.”
Cara scoffed, pulling her years of training around herself like armor. This was not the time to fall prey to her emotions. She shrugged off his hand and set off moving toward the wall once more. “Spoken like a man desperate to believe his own words,” she shot over her shoulder. The stricken expression that flashed across his face told Cara she was right.
“It’s complicated,” Richard replied, fidgeting with the sword belt they’d picked up outside the training yard. If one was foolish enough to attempt to escape a Qunari compound, one should at least be armed.
They came to an abrupt stop as the gates of the compound came into view. Cara fingered the strap of her quiver-acquired at the same time as Richard’s sword. She was grateful for the sense of protection it gave her, even as guilt haunted her every step. As though her existing sins had not been bad enough, now she had stolen from the only family she had ever known. It was a small comfort that the sword at Richard’s hip was a training weapon, used by soldiers who had not yet earned their own sword; she did not think she could live with herself if she had stolen a soldier’s asala.
She shook her head to clear it. Guilt could come later, when they were safe. Right now all that mattered was getting through that gate, which meant getting past the quad of kossith guarding it.
“Follow my lead,” Cara muttered to Richard, approaching the guards with a confidence she did not feel. Richard had the sense to remain silent, adopting his version of a brooding Qunari scowl. Cara might have laughed if the situation were not so dangerous. She turned to the guards. “Ataash Qunari,” she said, bowing her head respectfully.
“Anaan essam Qun,” replied the guard closest to the gate, pressing a fist over his chest. The other three followed suit as the first began to turn the wheel that would open the gate.
Her escape must not yet be known, nor the murder of the besrathari; the guards were far too calm, and not nearly as suspicious as they should have been. A rogue imekari fleeing the compound, they would stop; two full-grown armed Qunari could be trusted to have only the noblest of intentions.
The gate was nearly closed behind them when the sound of rapid footsteps came from the other side. Cara whirled around, eyes widening when she took in the red leather of the approaching Ben-Hassrath, led by a certain platinum-haired tallis with murder in her eyes. “Vinek kathas!”
Abandoning the gate, the guards smoothly drew their weapons and began to advance. Cara pulled her bow from her shoulder as Richard slid his sword free from its scabbard. Her first arrow flew swiftly to its mark, felling one massive kossith in a single shot as Richard took on two others. The fourth advanced on Cara, seeing her for the threat she was, but he was not fast enough; two more well-placed arrows defeated him as well.
Richard struggled with the other two, barely managing to hold them off. Cara was impressed by his skill with a sword; any other bas attempting to take on even one Qunari would surely fall within seconds. She disabled one temporarily with an arrow to the thigh, giving Richard the opportunity to gain the upper hand, and in moments, all four guards lay dead at their feet.
There was no time to process what had happened. The gate was still open, and the Ben-Hassrath were gaining fast. The blonde tallis fell to the ground, Cara’s arrow protruding from her stomach, while Richard readied his sword, but there were too many of them; if they reached the gate, Cara and Richard were lost.
Out of nowhere, a blast of fire streamed through the gate, lighting the dry grasses aflame. A second blast hit closer to the approaching Qunari. Stunned, Cara whipped her head around to see the source of the flames: a tall, wrinkled man with long white hair stood with drab brown robes fluttering in the breeze as fire streamed from his outstretched palm.
Saarebas, Cara thought with disgust. For an instant she forgot the Ben-Hassrath intent on recapturing her, driven only by the deeply-ingrained instinct to avoid magic and its users. She turned her bow on the mage, nocking the arrow that would kill him outright. Before she could pull back, however, another human joined the fray.
“Richard!” The woman was tall and graceful, her gold and crimson robes swirling at her feet as she rushed to Richard’s side. She held a dagger in each hand as though they were extensions of her arms, and the look on her face said she would not hesitate to use them.
The interruption delayed Cara’s hand enough for the Ben-Hassrath to reach the gate. They were no longer focused on capturing her and Richard, however; they looked on the bas-saarebas with the same mixture of fear and contempt that Cara herself felt as they worked frantically to close the gate. Their first priority was to protect the compound.
“That was easy,” the mage said with a broad grin, shaking his hand out and wiping it on his robes.
Cara glanced warily at Richard, but he was otherwise occupied by the woman who had flung herself into his arms.
“Thank the Maker you’re all right.”
“Of course I am,” Richard replied softly, holding the woman with a tender reverence. “I could never leave you for good.”
The woman stiffened at his words, and backed out of the embrace. Her eyes darted nervously from Richard’s face, to his bare chest, to the ground, and back again. She seemed poised to say something, but struggled to form the words.
“We should get moving,” the mage warned, catching the woman’s gaze. “Before they decide it’s too dangerous letting an apostate run loose outside their compound.”
Richard looked as thrown by the old man’s presence as Cara, but he glanced at the woman with him and shrugged before nodding pointedly toward Cara’s bow. Cara huffed and lowered her weapon with a roll of her eyes; she wasn’t sure why, but something about Richard made her want to trust him. Still, she opted to keep the bow in hand, rather than sling it back over her shoulder; a small amount of trust was one thing, being a careless idiot was another entirely. She would keep an eye on this bas-saarebas.
As though on cue, the sound of footsteps returned, this time heavier and more numerous. The Ben-Hassrath had summoned reinforcements, and the karataam would not be so easily cowed by a show of magic. Further conversation would have to wait-they needed to get away, and quickly.
Loath as Cara was to admit it, the mage’s abilities proved invaluable to their escape. It turned out that he knew more than just shooting fire from his fingertips; a few well-placed hexes, coupled with judicious use of the aforementioned fire, slowed their pursuers enough that after a half hour, they had managed to lose them almost entirely. Cara was sure the Qunari would catch up to them eventually-the Qunari were not a people known for giving up-but they had enough of a lead to warrant at least a short rest.
“So Richard,” the woman-Richard’s…friend?-huffed, brushing dark hair damp with sweat out of her face, “you made a friend.” She raked her eyes over Cara, lips pursing in thinly-veiled disapproval. Given the bright golden sun emblazoned on her robes, Cara could guess the reason for it; the Qunari were well-educated regarding their enemies, and the Chantry was one of the largest, second only to the Tevinters and in many ways more dangerous.
Richard’s gaze shifted uncomfortably between the two women, finally settling on the old man instead. “So did you,” he deflected.
The brunette sighed, gesturing to the mage. “This is Zedd-”
“Zeddicus Z’ul Zorander, at your service,” the old man interjected with a sweeping bow. Something complicated flickered through his eyes as he looked at Richard, an eager smile jumping to his lips. “And you must be the Seeker I’ve been hearing so much about.”
Vashedan. A Seeker? Cara was more confused than ever about Richard’s motives for helping her. The Qunari knew little of the Chantry’s Seekers of Truth, but what was known about them told a story of an order even more fanatical than the templars, whose primary purpose was defending the Chantry from any possible threat-which included the Qunari.
Of course, it also included apostates, but Richard hadn’t given any indication of hostility toward the old man.
“Zedd helped me avoid the Qunari patrols,” the brunette explained. “He’s…an apostate,” she added needlessly.
“Oh,” Richard said with a lopsided smile. “Well, if he helped you, I’d say he’s one of the good guys.”
“And who is this radiant beauty?” Zedd asked dramatically, turning his attention to Cara.
Cara shifted nervously under his gaze. She did not understand how magic worked, nor did she trust that he wouldn’t attempt to put her under some sort of spell if she made eye contact. Her hand flexed tightly around her bow, fingers itching to draw an arrow.
“Uh,” Richard hesitated, glancing between Cara and the other two. “Kahlan, Zedd, this is…” He trailed off, looking hopefully at Cara.
After a moment, she realized it was because he didn’t know what to say. Truth be told, Cara wasn’t sure what to call herself. She was no longer Besrathari-she was not even certain she could call herself Qunari, anymore. What did that leave?
“Cara,” she finally said, the name nearly catching in her throat. It was the only thing she had ever been other than Qunari, though a sharp ache bloomed in her chest at the memories attached to it.
Richard smiled. “Cara,” he repeated, resting a hand at the small of Kahlan’s back, “this is Kahlan.”
“Sister Kahlan,” the brunette corrected archly. Her ice-blue eyes flashed with the ire of a woman who had worked too hard for her title to have it so easily overlooked. Cara could respect that, understand it even. Her own pride had been one of her biggest obstacles in fully embracing the Qun-her pride, and Dahlia.
“It is…good to meet you,” Cara said stiffly.
Kahlan responded with a tight smile before turning to Richard. “So, is Cara coming back with us?”
“Oh. We hadn’t really gotten that far,” Richard said, smiling disarmingly at Cara. “You’re welcome to come back to Val Royeaux with us.”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Cara said, eyeing the majestic sun emblazoned on Kahlan’s robes. She would not cast off one set of shackles merely to replace it with another.
“The Maker welcomes any who wish to serve him,” Kahlan said, the forced civility in her tone scarcely disguising the self-righteous superiority in her eyes.
“I think I have had enough of service,” Cara replied, quirking her eyebrow at Kahlan. “I will find my own way.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed as he considered Cara for a moment; then his gaze shifted to the two packs on Kahlan’s back, as though noticing them for the first time. “Well, here,” he said, slipping one of them free and rummaging through it. Finally he pulled out a rumpled white tunic, holding it out to her. At her quizzical look, he explained. “If you don’t want to be recognized, you should probably cover up a bit.”
“Your outfit is a bit…distinctive,” Kahlan said, her eyes flicking judgmentally to the scant leather covering Cara’s breasts.
A small rebellious part of Cara that she had thought long buried wanted to refuse the shirt, simply to irk the Chantry sister-but the stronger, more practical part told her that Richard had a point. She took the tunic with a grateful tilt of her head, setting her bow gingerly against a nearby tree and pulling the quiver off to lean beside it. The garment slipped easily over her head, but felt foreign and strange draped over her body. She could not remember ever being so covered; it was not altogether pleasant.
“Here,” Richard said with a friendly smile, stepping close and reaching for the back of her neck. She shrank back, eyeing him warily, but he just shook his head and grabbed the base of her braid, pulling it out from under the shirt and letting it fall back down. The weight of it brushing against her back through the fabric gave her pause.
Her hair had not been cut since she was a child, so long ago that she scarcely remembered it. For almost as long, it had been tied back every morning into its standard plait-often by Dahlia, before things between them had gotten so out of control. Her braid was not only a marker that identified her as Qunari; it was a stark reminder of a past she now wished more than anything to forget.
Dahlia’s dagger was still sheathed in her boot; Cara leaned down and drew it now, slicing off her hair at her shoulders before she could think too hard on it. She met the others’ quizzical gazes with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. “If I truly wish to avoid recognition, it will take more than a simple tunic.”
Richard accepted the explanation with what Cara was beginning to suspect was his usual ease. His attention turned to his pack; he seemed to be considering something. Just when Cara was about to ask him to come out with it already, he offered the pack to her. “If you’re set on going off on your own, you’ll need food, and coin,” he said kindly. “You won’t get very far broke and starving.”
Cara’s brow tightened as she accepted the gift; she did not expect this kind of generosity from a bas. He had no reason to be kind to her, or to care what happened to her. Nothing bound them together in any way, other than a chance meeting and a shared need to escape the compound-a need that had been fulfilled.
“Be safe, Cara,” Richard said, catching her eye briefly before turning back to Kahlan. The Sister tried to conceal her pleasure at the fact that Cara was not joining them, but the polite smile on her lips was too close to a victorious smirk for Cara to believe it.
She watched as the three of them turned and walked away, realization settling heavy on her shoulders. It hadn’t sunk in until that moment, the magnitude of what it was she was doing. All her life she’d had a purpose, a role to fulfill and a duty to perform. Now she was free; she had no purpose, no duty, was beholden to no one. It both terrified and exhilarated her.
Amidst the excitement, there was also guilt and shame. Before today, she had never killed so much as a rabbit for a meal; now she had not only killed one-albeit corrupt-man, but several of her brethren whose only fault was doing what they were told, what they believed was right.
The events of the day had called into question everything she thought she knew of herself, but she did not have the luxury of time to contemplate it. Numbly, Cara slung her bow and quiver back over her shoulder, arranging them to fit comfortably around the pack as she stared out through the trees and pondered where to go.
To the west was Antiva, and Orlais. Antiva would not welcome a woman fighter, and Cara was not built to play the fragile damsel in distress. Orlais was where Richard and his companions were headed. The east held only the cool blue waters of the Amaranthine Ocean, the north Seheron and Par Vollen, both Qunari territories. If Cara intended to set out on her own, that left only one direction: she headed south, into Rivain.
With every step, the teachings of Ashkaari Koslun rang in her head. Existence is a choice, taught the Qun. A self of suffering, brings only suffering to the world.
Cara was one such destructive force. The Qunari would have her stop struggling, submit to qamek and contribute to the whole as a mindless laborer-but she had given her life to the Qun, and it had taken everything from her, giving her a hollow mockery of duty in return. Now it was time to find her own path.
It is a choice, and we can refuse it.
A grim smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she adjusted the pack on her shoulders. She pushed aside thoughts of Dahlia, and what had or could have been; they no longer mattered.
She was free.
end.
Pairing: Cara/Dahlia
Rating: R
Warnings: Reference to rape/forced breeding, “underage” sexytimes (non-explicit, and they’re considered “of age” in their culture)
Word Count: 13,548
Disclaimer: Neither Legend of the Seeker or Dragon Age are mine, nor are any of the characters contained therein. Qunari language and culture are derived (hopefully as accurately as possible) from BioWare’s Dragon Age series, with the help of the Dragon Age Wiki. Opening excerpt is taken verbatim from the game.
Summary: The Qunari routinely conquer human lands, forcibly converting their inhabitants to the Qun in heavily guarded compounds. In one such place, two young human girls come to depend on one another for comfort and companionship. When their bond grows deeper than the Qun allows, it will prove dangerous for them both.
Part One
Dahlia was still shaking as she paced back and forth next to her cot. The besrathari had assured her that she had done the right thing; Dahlia tried to tell herself that the shame that burned in her chest was because of what she’d almost done, and not because she had confessed her wrongdoing.
Now she was paralyzed with fear, for herself and for Cara. She knew why it was wrong, what they very nearly had done, but it hadn’t felt wrong. She stared down at her cot, remembering the sudden shock of bliss that had flooded her body years ago. Cara had been eager to give her that again, and she had come so close to giving in-had given in-before Cara had unwittingly reminded her of her duty to the Qun. They had managed to escape qamek once before; would they be so fortunate a second time?
“Shok ebasit hissra,” she whispered to herself. She hoped the Qunlat words would help to ground her and ease her anxiety, the way they had in the past. “Maraas shokra.”
It was no use; it had not been the words themselves that calmed her, but Cara’s voice saying them. Tears pricked at her eyes as she thought of how Cara must be feeling now; did she know yet that Dahlia had betrayed her? Would she ever look on Dahlia with love and affection again?
There was a scuff of boots on wood at the doorway, and Dahlia spun around, anxious to see her friend, to explain her reasoning. “Cara-”
Her voice cut off abruptly as she saw her visitor. It was not Cara, but rather the besrathari that had fathered her child, years ago. He smiled, stroking his sparse beard as he stepped further into the room. “Is that what you call her?” he asked, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Cara? It’s pretty enough, though of course inappropriate.”
“Why are you here?” Dahlia demanded, trying to sound braver than she felt. “You are assigned to the males. This is a female matter.”
His smile twisted into a lewd smirk as he continued to advance. “Yes, it is entirely a female matter, isn’t it?” His honeyed voice made her skin crawl; Dahlia shuddered, hands clenching at her sides. “I have spoken to the tamassrans,” the besrathari said, tenting his hands in front of him as he finally came to a stop with barely an arm’s length between them. “I’ve convinced them that your…missteps are merely the result of a desire to mate. A sign of fertility, in fact.”
Dahlia frowned, shook her head as dread blossomed in her stomach. “But that’s not-”
A warm calloused finger pressed against Dahlia’s lips, preventing her from speaking further. “It doesn’t matter what you think it is,” he said softly, his eyes flashing dangerously. His finger trailed away from her lips, tracing the line of her jaw as he spoke. “You have a choice, Tallis. You can be mated, with me, and bear a child that will one day serve the Qun as faithfully as you and I, or you can face the same fate as your beloved Cara.”
His touch moved lower, tracing the edge of her bindings, and Dahlia trembled, fear churning in her stomach as her mind raced desperately. What choice did she have?
***
A kind of peace had settled over Cara in the time since she had been taken to the cells. She didn’t know how the besrathari had found out about her latest indiscretion, but it hardly mattered now; she knew there would be no coming back from this. Perhaps when she had endured qamek she would be free of these longings that were such an affront to the Qun.
She only hoped that Dahlia would escape the same fate; she had told the besrathari that it was entirely her own doing, that Dahlia had been the model of Qunari restraint. There was no sense in them both being punished for Cara’s weakness, and perhaps without Cara’s corrupting influence around, Dahlia would be able to submit completely to the Qun.
The one thing Cara regretted was that she would be forced to part with her bow. She held it in her hands now; it was not a threat without arrows to shoot with it, and given her subdued demeanor, she doubted the besrathari would even expect her to put up a fight. She was glad for it; the bow was her lifeline. It seemed foolish, to cling so to her weapon, but it had kept her grounded for so long, and continued to do so now. Just running her fingers over the supple curve of the wood was enough to keep her unease at bay.
Footsteps approached her cell, and Cara’s fingers curled tightly around the shaft of her bow. The door swung open to reveal the last person Cara had ever wanted to see again.
“Cara,” the besrathari said with a cruel smirk. “It is Cara, right? Such a charming little nickname.”
A chill seized her spine at hearing that name from those lips. “What have you done to Dahlia?”
“Oh, fear not,” he assured her, running the back of his fingers down the side of her face. She flinched away, but it only made him smile wider. “Your little-Dahlia, is it?-is quite safe. She’s a lovely girl, by the way,” he said, hunger darkening his steel-blue eyes. “Very dutiful. She confessed everything, you see; how you seduced her all those years ago, how you persisted in your affections, how you seized the opportunity to assault her in the baths.”
“You’re lying,” Cara spat. Dahlia would never turn on her like that, would never twist the truth into something so ugly.
His teeth flashed white in the dim light as his smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Am I? Well, it makes no difference to you in any case. Your fate has already been decided.”
Cara closed her eyes, choking back the fear that gripped her. When she opened them once more, she glared at the besrathari defiantly. “I do not care what happens to me, as long as she is safe.”
“How touching,” he said, fingers trailing freely over her collarbone. “A devotion she would not return. But,” he continued, his fingers pressing her chin up to force her to meet his gaze, “there is a way for you to escape qamek.”
“What are you talking about?” Cara asked, her fingers aching from the white-knuckled grip she had on her bow.
The besrathari’s grin twisted suggestively as he ran his eyes down her body. “Simply agree to come to my bed, whenever I desire it.”
Bile rose in the back of Cara’s throat; she swallowed it back with some difficulty. “I can no longer bear children.”
“That needn’t be a concern,” he said with a shrug. “As long as the wrong people don’t find out about it.”
This was not some deal he had arranged with the tamassrans; he was suggesting the same sort of arrangement he had with other females in the compound, with the tallis that had turned her and Dahlia in last time. Be at his mercy, submit to his desires…she felt sick just thinking about it.
“That would not serve the Qun,” she said firmly, one hand leaving her bow to knock his hand away from her. “And I’d sooner face qamek than have you touch me ever again.”
His smile faltered, anger flashing in his eyes. “As you wish. I’ll leave you to your fate.” He was almost back at the door before he spun on his heel and strode back to her. “I may as well take this with me,” he said with a vicious smirk as he wrested the bow from her grasp. “You won’t be needing it in the work camps.”
Cara watched the door slam behind him, heard the latch slide back into place, and the angry defiance bled from her as she sagged against the stone wall. She was alone now, truly; her hands felt empty with nothing to clutch, but it wasn’t as sharp as the hollowness in her chest. She tried to find that peace again, that acceptance, but knowing that the besrathari had taken an interest in Dahlia had destroyed any hope she might have had for the other woman to make it out of this unscarred.
Perhaps she could escape. She had been dutifully resigned to her fate ever since she was brought here, they wouldn’t be expecting her to go on the offensive. The next time someone came to bring her food, or to question her further, she could attempt to overpower them; find Dahlia and somehow escape the compound.
As though her plans had been heard by some invisible power, she heard the rattling of a key in the lock. She stood, pressing herself against the narrow strip of wall beside the door. When the latch clicked free, she jumped into action, slamming the newcomer against the opposite wall with her hand around his throat.
Then she froze. It wasn’t a besrathari that she had overpowered, or anyone else she recognized. It was a human man, one she couldn’t remember ever seeing, but who still looked vaguely familiar.
“Who are you?” Cara growled, her grip tightening.
He gasped and flailed, pointing at his throat as his face slowly turned an odd shade of purple. Cara rolled her eyes and let her hand fall away; he obviously didn’t pose a threat.
“You’re awfully friendly,” he said dryly, rubbing at his throat.
“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her eyes darting out the door to ensure that the outer room remained empty.
The man held up a key with a roguish grin. “I’m guessing the Qunari aren’t very familiar with pickpockets.”
Cara sighed and moved into the outer room, searching for something, anything, that would aid her escape. “You should not be here.”
“I was expecting something more along the lines of ‘thank you’.”
Her search turned up nothing but a loose stone. She lifted it in her hands. Not too heavy; it could be used as a bludgeon, if nothing else, though the thought of raising a weapon to her brothers and sisters made her queasy. “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. She looked back at him, and in the brighter light outside the cell she finally placed his face.
“I know you. You are Viddathari,” she said. He had arrived at the compound with a group of pilgrims wanting to join the Qun. So why was he here, helping her escape?
“I prefer Richard,” he said, holding out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Cara stared down at his hand in bewilderment. Something tickled at the back of her mind, a distant memory of some human custom; warily, she reached out to clasp his forearm.
“And you’re Cara, right?”
“No,” Cara said, drawing back her hand and looking away. “I am…I was Besrathari. Now I am no longer even that.”
“No,” he said gently, reaching out to put his hand on her shoulder. “You’re more. Just like I’m more than just a ‘viddathari’.”
She turned her gaze back to him, narrowing her eyes in puzzlement. “Why are you doing this? Helping me?”
Richard shrugged. “I didn’t exactly plan on it. I was…collecting something.” His hand drifted to his side, where there was a slight bulge in the side of his leather pants. With no pockets or shirt, he apparently had chosen the next best available hiding spot. “I was on my way out when I heard that man talking to you. I couldn’t just leave you here.”
“You are a fool to attempt to steal from the Qunari,” Cara scoffed. “And an even bigger fool for allowing yourself to get sidetracked aiding me.”
“I don’t hear you refusing my help,” Richard pointed out, raising an eyebrow at her. “Whatever ‘qamek’ is, it doesn’t sound like something you’d want to stick around for.”
The distant sound of footsteps caused Cara’s heart to seize in her chest. Her hand tightened around the rock she’d found. “If we don’t get out of here, we will both find out first-hand.”
He cocked his head as the footsteps grew louder, his expression growing serious. “Lead the way.”
***
Cara peered around the door frame, quickly scanning the room. The dormitory was empty save for Dahlia, who was perched on the edge of her cot, furiously sharpening her daggers. Sparing a brief glance behind her to ensure that Richard was keeping watch, Cara slipped into the room.
Dahlia’s head snapped up when she heard Cara’s approach. Her eyes were rimmed with red. “Cara. How did you-”
A smile fought its way onto Cara’s face unbidden as she hurried to Dahlia’s side. She reached out to stroke Dahlia’s cheek, but Dahlia flinched away. Cara frowned. “It’s all right. I’m taking you away from here. He will never threaten you again.” Her hand fell to clasp Dahlia’s, squeezing gently. “Come, Dahlia. We must move quickly.”
Instead of relief, Dahlia’s expression held a combination of fear and guilt. “I cannot go with you,” she said, eyes shining with unshed tears, “and you would not want me to.”
Cara frowned. “Of course I want you to. Dahlia, you will never be safe here, not while he lives.”
“Asit tal-eb,” Dahlia said with a weak smile. “I am where I am supposed to be, kadan. But you-you should go, quickly, before they realize you are gone. I would not wish qamek on you.”
“Dahlia-”
“You don’t understand,” Dahlia said, her voice shaking as violently as her hands. “It was me.”
A sick feeling began to grow in Cara’s stomach. “What was you?”
“I told the besrathari what happened,” Dahlia said, turning away and wiping angrily at her face. “I cannot serve the Qun if I do not learn from my mistakes.”
Cara shook her head, reaching for Dahlia’s hand and plucking the dagger from it, replacing it with her own. “We can be free of the Qun. We no longer need to serve that which keeps us apart.”
“I serve that which gives me purpose,” Dahlia said, yanking her hand back and clutching it to herself. “Without the Qun, I am nothing.”
The worst part was that Cara could see that she believed what she was saying. This was not Dahlia mindlessly reciting the words that were expected of her; she truly believed she was on the right path. A lump grew in Cara’s throat, and she swallowed it back roughly as she stood.
“Very well,” she said stiffly, turning away from the one person who knew her better than anyone in the world. Each step she took slashed at the thread that once held them together, and when she reached the doorway and turned back, she felt something in her snap irrevocably. Somehow, she found the will to speak, her voice raw and hoarse. “Panahedan, Dahlia.”
Dahlia did not look up.
***
Cara stormed out of the dormitory, nearly knocking Richard out of her way. “Let’s go,” she said gruffly, without glancing back.
Richard recovered quickly, falling into step beside her. “She’s not coming?”
“No,” Cara said through gritted teeth, clenching her hands into fists. One hand met resistance, and she looked down to find she still held Dahlia’s dagger. She stopped and turned, glancing back at the doorway; she should return it, but she didn’t think she could face Dahlia again right now-or perhaps ever.
“I’m sorry,” Richard said gently. He reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, but quickly drew it back when she shot him a sharp, quizzical look.
“Don’t be.” She said gruffly, setting off down the corridor again. “I was the fool.”
They walked a few steps in tense silence before Richard found the courage to speak again. “Okay, well I’ve got a few ideas on how we can escape, but you’d probably be a better judge-”
Cara held up a hand to cut him off before he could finish; a grim smile touched the edges of her lips as she looked down at the dagger in her hand. “We have a stop to make first.”
***
The Ben-Hassrath, like most Qunari, slept in communal dormitories, making the most out of what space was available. Only certain titles were granted private chambers, the head male and female besrathari among them. It was for practical reasons, of course; their position required them to be available at any hour day or night to provide counsel or make important training decisions, and it did not make sense to wake an entire dormitory to decide what to do with one troublesome trainee.
The private chambers were also a stroke of good fortune for Cara; the besrathari she was looking for was currently alone in his, admiring the craftsmanship of the bow he had confiscated from her. He turned when she walked through the door, a victorious smirk springing to his lips. “Changed your mind?”
Cara stepped closer, keeping a firm hold on the dagger behind her back. “Hardly,” she said venomously as she came to a stop before him. She was not thoroughly trained in the use of daggers, but for this, she was skilled enough. The man’s arrogance was his undoing; he scarcely had time to register the blade before it sliced through the air, neatly opening his throat.
Her bow clattered to the ground, followed shortly by the besrathari himself, and Cara winced, snatching the weapon up and quickly scanning it for damage. It seemed intact, so she turned her gaze back to the dying man.
“Vashedan,” Cara spat, watching with contempt as the life bled from his body. He would no longer be a threat to anyone. She could not give Dahlia freedom, not if she refused to take it, but she could give her this.
Only when he had stopped convulsing, and the cruel spark had faded from his eyes, did Cara turn to leave.
***
“You love her, don’t you?”
The words froze Cara in her tracks. “The Qunari do not believe in love,” she said flippantly, disguising her misstep by turning deliberately to scan the rolling fields behind them. They were almost to the edge of the compound; the high stone wall loomed ahead. “Not the way bas do. It is a grave offense to value any one person above others.”
When her gaze flicked back to Richard, he was sporting a gentle, knowing smile. “But you do value her,” he said, raising an eyebrow pointedly. “She’s special to you.”
Cara closed her eyes, balling her hands into fists. The wound that Dahlia had inflicted was still fresh, throbbing painfully in her chest. “She was,” she admitted, the words barely above a breath. “Now I am not so sure.”
A warm hand settled on Cara’s shoulder, and she tensed, her eyes snapping open again to fix on Richard. He didn’t draw back this time, though he did have the sense to look uneasy.
“Love isn’t always easy,” he said gently, his voice rich with more than just sympathy, “but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth feeling.”
Cara scoffed, pulling her years of training around herself like armor. This was not the time to fall prey to her emotions. She shrugged off his hand and set off moving toward the wall once more. “Spoken like a man desperate to believe his own words,” she shot over her shoulder. The stricken expression that flashed across his face told Cara she was right.
“It’s complicated,” Richard replied, fidgeting with the sword belt they’d picked up outside the training yard. If one was foolish enough to attempt to escape a Qunari compound, one should at least be armed.
They came to an abrupt stop as the gates of the compound came into view. Cara fingered the strap of her quiver-acquired at the same time as Richard’s sword. She was grateful for the sense of protection it gave her, even as guilt haunted her every step. As though her existing sins had not been bad enough, now she had stolen from the only family she had ever known. It was a small comfort that the sword at Richard’s hip was a training weapon, used by soldiers who had not yet earned their own sword; she did not think she could live with herself if she had stolen a soldier’s asala.
She shook her head to clear it. Guilt could come later, when they were safe. Right now all that mattered was getting through that gate, which meant getting past the quad of kossith guarding it.
“Follow my lead,” Cara muttered to Richard, approaching the guards with a confidence she did not feel. Richard had the sense to remain silent, adopting his version of a brooding Qunari scowl. Cara might have laughed if the situation were not so dangerous. She turned to the guards. “Ataash Qunari,” she said, bowing her head respectfully.
“Anaan essam Qun,” replied the guard closest to the gate, pressing a fist over his chest. The other three followed suit as the first began to turn the wheel that would open the gate.
Her escape must not yet be known, nor the murder of the besrathari; the guards were far too calm, and not nearly as suspicious as they should have been. A rogue imekari fleeing the compound, they would stop; two full-grown armed Qunari could be trusted to have only the noblest of intentions.
The gate was nearly closed behind them when the sound of rapid footsteps came from the other side. Cara whirled around, eyes widening when she took in the red leather of the approaching Ben-Hassrath, led by a certain platinum-haired tallis with murder in her eyes. “Vinek kathas!”
Abandoning the gate, the guards smoothly drew their weapons and began to advance. Cara pulled her bow from her shoulder as Richard slid his sword free from its scabbard. Her first arrow flew swiftly to its mark, felling one massive kossith in a single shot as Richard took on two others. The fourth advanced on Cara, seeing her for the threat she was, but he was not fast enough; two more well-placed arrows defeated him as well.
Richard struggled with the other two, barely managing to hold them off. Cara was impressed by his skill with a sword; any other bas attempting to take on even one Qunari would surely fall within seconds. She disabled one temporarily with an arrow to the thigh, giving Richard the opportunity to gain the upper hand, and in moments, all four guards lay dead at their feet.
There was no time to process what had happened. The gate was still open, and the Ben-Hassrath were gaining fast. The blonde tallis fell to the ground, Cara’s arrow protruding from her stomach, while Richard readied his sword, but there were too many of them; if they reached the gate, Cara and Richard were lost.
Out of nowhere, a blast of fire streamed through the gate, lighting the dry grasses aflame. A second blast hit closer to the approaching Qunari. Stunned, Cara whipped her head around to see the source of the flames: a tall, wrinkled man with long white hair stood with drab brown robes fluttering in the breeze as fire streamed from his outstretched palm.
Saarebas, Cara thought with disgust. For an instant she forgot the Ben-Hassrath intent on recapturing her, driven only by the deeply-ingrained instinct to avoid magic and its users. She turned her bow on the mage, nocking the arrow that would kill him outright. Before she could pull back, however, another human joined the fray.
“Richard!” The woman was tall and graceful, her gold and crimson robes swirling at her feet as she rushed to Richard’s side. She held a dagger in each hand as though they were extensions of her arms, and the look on her face said she would not hesitate to use them.
The interruption delayed Cara’s hand enough for the Ben-Hassrath to reach the gate. They were no longer focused on capturing her and Richard, however; they looked on the bas-saarebas with the same mixture of fear and contempt that Cara herself felt as they worked frantically to close the gate. Their first priority was to protect the compound.
“That was easy,” the mage said with a broad grin, shaking his hand out and wiping it on his robes.
Cara glanced warily at Richard, but he was otherwise occupied by the woman who had flung herself into his arms.
“Thank the Maker you’re all right.”
“Of course I am,” Richard replied softly, holding the woman with a tender reverence. “I could never leave you for good.”
The woman stiffened at his words, and backed out of the embrace. Her eyes darted nervously from Richard’s face, to his bare chest, to the ground, and back again. She seemed poised to say something, but struggled to form the words.
“We should get moving,” the mage warned, catching the woman’s gaze. “Before they decide it’s too dangerous letting an apostate run loose outside their compound.”
Richard looked as thrown by the old man’s presence as Cara, but he glanced at the woman with him and shrugged before nodding pointedly toward Cara’s bow. Cara huffed and lowered her weapon with a roll of her eyes; she wasn’t sure why, but something about Richard made her want to trust him. Still, she opted to keep the bow in hand, rather than sling it back over her shoulder; a small amount of trust was one thing, being a careless idiot was another entirely. She would keep an eye on this bas-saarebas.
As though on cue, the sound of footsteps returned, this time heavier and more numerous. The Ben-Hassrath had summoned reinforcements, and the karataam would not be so easily cowed by a show of magic. Further conversation would have to wait-they needed to get away, and quickly.
Loath as Cara was to admit it, the mage’s abilities proved invaluable to their escape. It turned out that he knew more than just shooting fire from his fingertips; a few well-placed hexes, coupled with judicious use of the aforementioned fire, slowed their pursuers enough that after a half hour, they had managed to lose them almost entirely. Cara was sure the Qunari would catch up to them eventually-the Qunari were not a people known for giving up-but they had enough of a lead to warrant at least a short rest.
“So Richard,” the woman-Richard’s…friend?-huffed, brushing dark hair damp with sweat out of her face, “you made a friend.” She raked her eyes over Cara, lips pursing in thinly-veiled disapproval. Given the bright golden sun emblazoned on her robes, Cara could guess the reason for it; the Qunari were well-educated regarding their enemies, and the Chantry was one of the largest, second only to the Tevinters and in many ways more dangerous.
Richard’s gaze shifted uncomfortably between the two women, finally settling on the old man instead. “So did you,” he deflected.
The brunette sighed, gesturing to the mage. “This is Zedd-”
“Zeddicus Z’ul Zorander, at your service,” the old man interjected with a sweeping bow. Something complicated flickered through his eyes as he looked at Richard, an eager smile jumping to his lips. “And you must be the Seeker I’ve been hearing so much about.”
Vashedan. A Seeker? Cara was more confused than ever about Richard’s motives for helping her. The Qunari knew little of the Chantry’s Seekers of Truth, but what was known about them told a story of an order even more fanatical than the templars, whose primary purpose was defending the Chantry from any possible threat-which included the Qunari.
Of course, it also included apostates, but Richard hadn’t given any indication of hostility toward the old man.
“Zedd helped me avoid the Qunari patrols,” the brunette explained. “He’s…an apostate,” she added needlessly.
“Oh,” Richard said with a lopsided smile. “Well, if he helped you, I’d say he’s one of the good guys.”
“And who is this radiant beauty?” Zedd asked dramatically, turning his attention to Cara.
Cara shifted nervously under his gaze. She did not understand how magic worked, nor did she trust that he wouldn’t attempt to put her under some sort of spell if she made eye contact. Her hand flexed tightly around her bow, fingers itching to draw an arrow.
“Uh,” Richard hesitated, glancing between Cara and the other two. “Kahlan, Zedd, this is…” He trailed off, looking hopefully at Cara.
After a moment, she realized it was because he didn’t know what to say. Truth be told, Cara wasn’t sure what to call herself. She was no longer Besrathari-she was not even certain she could call herself Qunari, anymore. What did that leave?
“Cara,” she finally said, the name nearly catching in her throat. It was the only thing she had ever been other than Qunari, though a sharp ache bloomed in her chest at the memories attached to it.
Richard smiled. “Cara,” he repeated, resting a hand at the small of Kahlan’s back, “this is Kahlan.”
“Sister Kahlan,” the brunette corrected archly. Her ice-blue eyes flashed with the ire of a woman who had worked too hard for her title to have it so easily overlooked. Cara could respect that, understand it even. Her own pride had been one of her biggest obstacles in fully embracing the Qun-her pride, and Dahlia.
“It is…good to meet you,” Cara said stiffly.
Kahlan responded with a tight smile before turning to Richard. “So, is Cara coming back with us?”
“Oh. We hadn’t really gotten that far,” Richard said, smiling disarmingly at Cara. “You’re welcome to come back to Val Royeaux with us.”
“I do not think that would be wise,” Cara said, eyeing the majestic sun emblazoned on Kahlan’s robes. She would not cast off one set of shackles merely to replace it with another.
“The Maker welcomes any who wish to serve him,” Kahlan said, the forced civility in her tone scarcely disguising the self-righteous superiority in her eyes.
“I think I have had enough of service,” Cara replied, quirking her eyebrow at Kahlan. “I will find my own way.”
Richard’s eyes narrowed as he considered Cara for a moment; then his gaze shifted to the two packs on Kahlan’s back, as though noticing them for the first time. “Well, here,” he said, slipping one of them free and rummaging through it. Finally he pulled out a rumpled white tunic, holding it out to her. At her quizzical look, he explained. “If you don’t want to be recognized, you should probably cover up a bit.”
“Your outfit is a bit…distinctive,” Kahlan said, her eyes flicking judgmentally to the scant leather covering Cara’s breasts.
A small rebellious part of Cara that she had thought long buried wanted to refuse the shirt, simply to irk the Chantry sister-but the stronger, more practical part told her that Richard had a point. She took the tunic with a grateful tilt of her head, setting her bow gingerly against a nearby tree and pulling the quiver off to lean beside it. The garment slipped easily over her head, but felt foreign and strange draped over her body. She could not remember ever being so covered; it was not altogether pleasant.
“Here,” Richard said with a friendly smile, stepping close and reaching for the back of her neck. She shrank back, eyeing him warily, but he just shook his head and grabbed the base of her braid, pulling it out from under the shirt and letting it fall back down. The weight of it brushing against her back through the fabric gave her pause.
Her hair had not been cut since she was a child, so long ago that she scarcely remembered it. For almost as long, it had been tied back every morning into its standard plait-often by Dahlia, before things between them had gotten so out of control. Her braid was not only a marker that identified her as Qunari; it was a stark reminder of a past she now wished more than anything to forget.
Dahlia’s dagger was still sheathed in her boot; Cara leaned down and drew it now, slicing off her hair at her shoulders before she could think too hard on it. She met the others’ quizzical gazes with a shrug and a raised eyebrow. “If I truly wish to avoid recognition, it will take more than a simple tunic.”
Richard accepted the explanation with what Cara was beginning to suspect was his usual ease. His attention turned to his pack; he seemed to be considering something. Just when Cara was about to ask him to come out with it already, he offered the pack to her. “If you’re set on going off on your own, you’ll need food, and coin,” he said kindly. “You won’t get very far broke and starving.”
Cara’s brow tightened as she accepted the gift; she did not expect this kind of generosity from a bas. He had no reason to be kind to her, or to care what happened to her. Nothing bound them together in any way, other than a chance meeting and a shared need to escape the compound-a need that had been fulfilled.
“Be safe, Cara,” Richard said, catching her eye briefly before turning back to Kahlan. The Sister tried to conceal her pleasure at the fact that Cara was not joining them, but the polite smile on her lips was too close to a victorious smirk for Cara to believe it.
She watched as the three of them turned and walked away, realization settling heavy on her shoulders. It hadn’t sunk in until that moment, the magnitude of what it was she was doing. All her life she’d had a purpose, a role to fulfill and a duty to perform. Now she was free; she had no purpose, no duty, was beholden to no one. It both terrified and exhilarated her.
Amidst the excitement, there was also guilt and shame. Before today, she had never killed so much as a rabbit for a meal; now she had not only killed one-albeit corrupt-man, but several of her brethren whose only fault was doing what they were told, what they believed was right.
The events of the day had called into question everything she thought she knew of herself, but she did not have the luxury of time to contemplate it. Numbly, Cara slung her bow and quiver back over her shoulder, arranging them to fit comfortably around the pack as she stared out through the trees and pondered where to go.
To the west was Antiva, and Orlais. Antiva would not welcome a woman fighter, and Cara was not built to play the fragile damsel in distress. Orlais was where Richard and his companions were headed. The east held only the cool blue waters of the Amaranthine Ocean, the north Seheron and Par Vollen, both Qunari territories. If Cara intended to set out on her own, that left only one direction: she headed south, into Rivain.
With every step, the teachings of Ashkaari Koslun rang in her head. Existence is a choice, taught the Qun. A self of suffering, brings only suffering to the world.
Cara was one such destructive force. The Qunari would have her stop struggling, submit to qamek and contribute to the whole as a mindless laborer-but she had given her life to the Qun, and it had taken everything from her, giving her a hollow mockery of duty in return. Now it was time to find her own path.
It is a choice, and we can refuse it.
A grim smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she adjusted the pack on her shoulders. She pushed aside thoughts of Dahlia, and what had or could have been; they no longer mattered.
She was free.
end.