Shadows over Nevarra: The Grand Tourney (In progress)

9:46 DRAKONIS

Ellas urged his mare, Magpie, up the final incline of the road into Dragon’s Peak. He judged from the sun that it must be nearing midday, so there was a good chance that Bann Sighard would be within his Keep and he took the path in that direction. Across the bowl of the valley, in which the village was situated beneath the Keep, there seemed a hive of activity. Of course, this would be expected with spring fast approaching and the agrarian cycle about to begin once again but this was not the principle focus of effort from what he could see.

Everywhere there were groups of people engaged in martial activity as though feeling the need to hone their skills for conflict after the relative peace of the winter season. Some he recognised as Bann Sighard’s knights but other seemed just regular villagers. He had not been aware previously how committed the commoners were to improving their fighting skills. After all, he thought that was the purpose of the knights, to defend the freeholders from threats to their wellbeing. There was a local voluntary militia attached to the settlements deep within the Forest but here in Dragon’s Peak it hardly seemed necessary. Had some new threat developed whilst he had been absent? He felt a surge of concern for the Dalish in the forest if that was the case and encouraged Magpie to greater speed.

On arriving at the courtyard in front of the Keep he was confronted by a huge shaggy mabari , that had shot out from the open door to the main entrance, bouncing around in enthusiastic greeting. Ellas dismounted and crouched down, inviting him to approach for a fuss.

“My goodness, Scruffy, you’ve shot up while I’ve been away. What has Jasce been feeding you?”

“He had a growth spurt,” Jasce’s deep voice informed him as he followed the dog into the courtyard. “It often happens during their first year, after which it should settle down to a slower rate and allow him to fill out with muscle to go with it.”

“He’s going to be a big dog when he’s finished then.”

“Reckon so. Not as big as Bear was but not far off. He looks bulkier too with all that fur.” He gave Ellas an appraising look. “So how did it go?”

Ellas had returned from visiting the College of Enchanters in Kinloch Hold at their invitation, which was the euphemistic way of saying that he had been ordered to present himself for their investigation and approval to practice magic within their area of jurisdiction. At least that is how Ellas had felt about it. Officially, there were not Chantry controlled Circles within southern Thedas anymore, although the loyalists aligned with Grand Enchanter Vivienne were still attached to that organisation, but some of the former rebels against that system still held to the idea of an authorised group of mages supervising and regulating the use of magic, just independent of the Chantry. Ellas would have been an apostate under the Chantry and was regarded as little better by the self-styled College of Enchanters if his recent experience was anything to go by.

“I’m still at liberty aren’t I?”

Ellas tried to keep the resentment out of his voice but was unsuccessful and he saw Jasce’s eyebrows raised slightly in response.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“That’s why I came to the Keep first. Is Bann Sighard around?”

“He’s down at the stallion barn checking out his new arrival. Burren’s with him.”

“Great, then let’s go there now and you can all hear about their pronouncement over me.”

He loosened the girth on Magpie’s saddle, opting to lead her down to the stables so he could more easily talk with Jasce. As they walked down the incline in the direction of the horse barns, he raised his other concern over the activity in the village.

“Has Orlais declared war on us or something?”

Jasce laughed. “Not exactly but thumping Orlesians does have something to do with it. Whilst you were away, the Grand Tourney was announced. It will be the first real Tourney since before the Fifth Blight and everyone’s eager to be chosen to take part.”

“Grand Tourney, what’s that?”

“The greatest show on earth or that is how it is being promoted. The Freemarches have always had this sort of ongoing travelling fair that goes from place to place and when it puts down somewhere there is an impromptu competition involving martial skills, with associated entertainment and craft stalls where people can see exotic items not usually found in their local area. Every three or four years, though, a sponsor comes forward to finance a Conquest of Arms and we get a proper Grand Tourney. Then people come from all over Thedas to take part, not just the Freemarches. It lasts for weeks and is a huge social event as well as the tests of martial skill. The competition events usually carry large monetary rewards as well as the prestige of having won against the best Thedas has to offer, so it is considered a good way to improve your social and economic standing in the world.”

“So long as you win I assume.”

“Even if you make the final it is usually enough for a person to get free drinks forever more on the strength of their reputation and the stories they can tell of the experience.”

“I see. So that’s what all that activity is for. When is it?”

“The Grand Tourney isn’t for another six months. They announce it well in advance to allow people to make travel arrangements and prepare themselves. However, Oswyn didn’t want people distracted from their normal work for the entire time, so I suggested they held a competition at the end of the month to see who will be representing our Bann and they can focus on training for it whilst everyone else can return to their regular employment. Oswyn will then pay the expenses of the winners, both travelling and at the venue. It is being held in Cumberland so costs are likely to be considerable, particularly with every captain wanting to maximise their profit. Most people usually stay in a tented village alongside the event. King Alistair has also asked him to oversee the Ferelden contingent so our citizens do not get themselves into too much trouble and send him regular reports on our progress in the Tourney. Divine Victoria has come up with the bright idea that as well as winning individual competitions, points will be given that go towards a team event. This is meant to encourage the spirit of friendly competition between nations and bring us closer together. The reality is that it likely will result in fierce rivalries and old animosities emerging that will make it the nearest thing to war without bloodshed and there is no absolute guarantee of the latter. People have been known to use the contest to settle old scores, often by mutual agreement.”

“Will you be representing the Bann?” Ellas said with enthusiasm.

“Sorry laddie, that’s not the way of the Ash Warrior. We fight for the just cause or not at all.” He gave a knowing smile and winked. “Besides it wouldn’t be fair on the opposition now would it?”

“I guess not. It sounds like it could be fun to watch anyway.”

“You could take part.”

“Doing what?"

“Well there is a contest for mages. From what I recall of the last one, they shoot clay discs from around various points on the arena, at different heights and from behind obstacles so you won’t know where the next one is coming from; then the mage tries to hit them with magic.”

“So they don’t dual with each other then?”

“When the Grand Tourney first began the Chantry prohibited it as too dangerous. You have to admit on that score they were probably right. Anyway, according to the schedule, no one has seen fit to alter the rules.”

“I don’t know. A big event is likely to attract a lot of ex-Templars and I wouldn’t want to draw their attention and it seems too much like showing off. I dare say the College will be sending their own people so I’ll give it a miss. I don’t think my gift should be used in that way; I’ll keep my magic for when it is really needed.” He noticed Jasce giving an approving smile and silent nod. “Is there anything else I could do?”

“There are always lots of other forms of entertainment going on. You could spend some time entertaining as the Pied Piper. There’s also a horse race. Oswyn is taking Honey for that as the official entry from Ferelden and he’s trying to persuade Burren to be the rider. He’s lighter than your average dwarf and his short stature should make him more streamlined on her back than a regular rider. At least that is Oswyn’s theory. Still I’m sure he wouldn’t object to you riding one of his other horses as a wild card entry.”

“Wild card?”

“The number of people officially representing a nation is restricted in each event but that doesn’t stop other people from taking part. They can even declare for an official team if they haven’t enough representatives of their own and the individual can be persuaded to do so. That is what is likely to happen in the horse race with the dwarves from Orzammar taking part.”

“Really? Burren told me dwarves can’t come topside or they are considered casteless.”

“That was before the first prize in the team competition was announced as being an ancient artefact recently recovered from the Deep Roads, the Anvil Breaker. According to Burren, if it really is the Anvil Breaker that belonged to one of their paragons, the dwarves will kill, literally, to get their hands on it. Apparently, Bhelen has given special dispensation that anyone taking part will be allowed back into Orzammar at the end of it.” He gave a wry smile. “So long as they win I should imagine. Don’t give much for their chances if they return empty handed.”

The villagers started to set up a number of posts into slots in the ground. At the top of the post was cross bar attached to a swivel with a shield on one end and a heavy sack dangling from the other.

“What are they doing?” asked Ellas.

“Setting up quintains for the tilting practice in readiness for the joust.”

“That still means nothing to me.”

“Just watch.”

One of Sighard’s knights appeared on the back of his horse but lacking his normal armour, dressed only in a leather jerkin, breeches and boots but carrying a lance. Ellas recognised him as Ser Everard, leader of the Dragon’s Peak Guard. He rode to the end of the line of posts, wheeled his horse around and then urged the horse into a canter. As he charged down the line he attempted to contact each of the shields with the end of the lance. It was noticeable that he needed to maintain his speed if he made contact with a shield as this would cause the arm to swing round and he would be hit by the sack if he slowed down. On reaching the end of the line he slowed the horse and circled back to the beginning, whilst the servants replaced the shields that he had succeed in hitting into their original position. Then he repeated the exercise.

“So, is that all there is to it?” Ellas queried as another two knights, Ser Jodhri and Ser Garrick, joined Everard on the field.

“Oh no, tilting is just to improve their accuracy in hitting a target. In the joust they ride at each other wearing full armour like it was a real cavalry charge, except the lances are blunted so in theory it shouldn’t be lethal.”

“In theory?”

“There are rules about what you should and shouldn’t aim at. If you deliberately aim for your opponent’s horse or strike off target you will be disqualified but it’s still one of the most dangerous events in the whole Tourney because of the potential for things to go wrong.”

“Like what?”

“The whole idea is that you should shatter your lance by hitting your opponent’s shield. That earns you points but of course the shattered part could fly off into you or them. If you are hit hard enough that you are pushed off the back of your horse, you could fall awkwardly and hurt yourself. The impact could be so severe that both you and the horse could go down and then you get crushed under it. You get the general idea.”

“So, Everard, Jodhri and Garrick are hoping to be chosen for the joust?”

“That’s pretty much guaranteed so far as Dragon’s Peak is concerned. They’re the best horsemen among the knights. They’ll just be putting on a display at the mini tourney. At present they’re taking the opportunity to practice the tilt with their stallions before the breeding season starts. Oswyn has promised to sponsor them at the real thing but he’s got his misgivings about it. He wouldn’t want to see anyone hurt, either his men or his horses, but he knows how much it means to them so he won’t stand in their way.”

“What are their chances of success in the actual event?”

“Fairly good but it is going to be tough. They’ll probably get to the final all right but the Chevaliers have perfected the art of jousting. They’ll be favourites to win.”

“Chevaliers, that’s Orlesians isn’t it?”

“Correct and you can bet they will be fielding their best squad this time round with no wars to distract them and national pride at stake. Mind you, Oswyn says nothing is guaranteed and the Orlesians may underestimate the opposition. He says it is as much about holding your nerve as anything else so you keep your eye on your target as he is riding towards you. The most successful ones aren’t intimidated and don’t deviate from the line they are keeping, whereas the others flinch at the last minute or let their horse slow. He should know; he was a jousting champion before that bastard Howe maimed him. Plus having a good horse that won’t be cowed by the occasion either, although that one’s covered where the Dragon’s Peak lads are concerned; Oswyn will ensure they have the best under them, strong and brave enough to withstand the rigours of the competition.”

On reaching the mares’ barn, Ellas unsaddled Magpie and let her loose in the paddock alongside. He and Jasce then continued on to the stallion barn where they found Oswyn dictating some notes to Burren. Burren’s face was a picture of delight when he saw Ellas and made him feel less resentful at the restrictions that had been imposed on him by the College. There were worse places to be confined than Dragon’s Peak. Bann Sighard also looked genuinely pleased to see him.

“Welcome back,” he said with a smile; then gave a knowing glance at Burren and a raise of his eyebrows. “May be my secretary will be able to concentrate better now.”

Ellas was amused to see Burren starting to blush beneath his beard. He thought it might be a kindness to deflect attention away from his friend, so immediately handed over the sealed letter he had brought with him from Kinloch Hold.

“I was asked to report to you and give you this as soon as I got back.”

Oswyn broke the seal and scanned the contents of the letter, before looking back at Ellas with an amused curl of the lip.

“It seems you have been released into my care and guidance.”

“As though I have been their prisoner and now allowed out on parole. I do not recognise their right to determine my fate.”

“Yet here you stand in accordance with their wishes.”

“I thought it expedient to agree to their terms, for now. You did speak up for me when all is said and done, despite your own misgivings, and at least here I know I am among friends.”

Oswyn gave a gracious incline of his head in acknowledgement of the implied deference to his authority, even if grudgingly given. He knew Ellas was inclined to speak his mind even at risk of giving offence but that his heart was in the right place.

“So what did they say about you?” Burren asked anxiously.

It had been Burren’s idea to investigate Ellas’ use of magic with the College in the first place. Ellas had demonstrated the ability to perform powerful magic, with spells normally only able to be performed by a blood mage. He hadn’t denied that this was the origin of his spells but Burren had been present at one of the castings and observed that Ellas’ eyes seemed to glow as he cast the magic that made Burren question if the blood had really been necessary. He had asked permission to send an account of what he had witnessed to the College, together with Ellas’ history of his training by his father and what had occurred at the latter’s death, to see if they could throw light on the matter. Burren had hoped that it would remove the stigma of being a blood mage from him but instead it had raised even more concerns about the origin of his powers and the invitation from the College to come and discuss it with them. Burren had felt guilty about causing such trouble for his friend ever since.

“Well, to be honest, they don’t really know what to say about me. They think there is a good chance that I was not using blood magic but merely thought I was.”

Burren beamed with pleasure. “That’s great.”

“They still weren’t exactly happy that I was willing to use blood magic, even if the situation was dire enough to warrant it. Still they conceded that I’m merely misguided not evil.”

“Big of them,” Burren said with sarcasm.

Ellas gave him a grin. “However, they were prepared to overlook that issue in favour of a more disturbing one. If I am not a blood mage, then it would seem I am a mage with the powers of a Seeker of Truth.”

“The overseers of the Templar Order?” queried Oswyn.

“Exactly,” confirmed Ellas. “Not all of them were familiar with how these differ from those of a Templar but Cillian Rilaferin was able to enlighten them on that fact from what he learned from the former Inquisitor. He acquired his knowledge from the Seeker who helped found the Inquisition so it seems it is likely to be accurate. He was not familiar with the interrogation technique they use but the setting aflame of lyrium in the blood of the target is something that at least some of the most powerful ones can do. Mind you apparently lyrium is the blood of Titans so really it is a form of blood magic.”

“What are Titans?”

“Some sort of giant sentient being that has something to do with the dwarves,” he gave a glance at Burren and raised his eyebrows. “Something else the Inquisitor unearthed that pre-dates the rise of the human race. Anyway, the good news is that whatever gives the Seekers their power also protects their mind from all mental intrusions, including blood magic and demonic possession. However, the bad news is that they think that is because I am already an abomination.”

“Not like any I’ve ever encountered,” said Jasce.

“And wouldn’t that make Seekers abominations too?” said Burren.

Ellas grinned. “That is why they couldn’t condemn me outright. They might not have liked the Seekers of Truth any more than they did the Templar Order but if I have their abilities it is hardly something that would involve demons. Seeker Cassandra maintained she acquired her powers through having her mind touched by a faith spirit. Whether that was the only contact with her mind or whether it was a continuous one and she wasn’t aware of it, it did have implications for the origin of my powers.”

“So where do you get them?” asked Oswyn.

“At present they think I may have some sort of latent contact with a benign spirit, probably from the time my father died. That is merely guesswork though. You see most people who have a spirit familiar are aware of that fact. The spirit would have revealed itself to them or they would at least have felt something. Mind you, apparently Seeker Cassandra had no idea how she acquired her powers until she read it in a secret book belonging to their order, so the similarity is there again. The difference is that I am a mage and not particularly devoted to any god.”

“So you are something new to their experience?”

“Exactly; I fall outside the extent of anyone’s previous knowledge of these things. That is not to say it might not be true. They wanted me to stay there so they could study me further but I wasn’t having that. As I pointed out, there is really nothing to see unless danger threatens someone else and I see no alternative to using my magic. Strangely enough the ex-Templar, Evangeline, spoke up for me on that. She was particularly moved by my oath which she pointed out no evil creature would agree to. Apparently she is the partner of First Enchanter Rhys and he got awfully twitchy when people were bandying the word abomination around the hall, saying it was loaded with Chantry superstition and too broad a definition to cover all. He is said to be something called a Spirit Medium so that may be the reason. He doesn’t regard all spirits as dangerous things to be avoided and insists that Chantry prejudices in the past have prevented proper research on the subject. Still the Circles allowed Spirit Healers and apparently there are known to be Spirit Warriors who are assisted by spirits from the Fade, although the Templars always disapproved of these, so there are known relationships with spirits that are not detrimental to the person or the people around them. It was on that basis that they thought it would be safe to allow me to return here, provided you are willing to accept the risk of keeping me under control and will notify them of any concerns that arise in the future.” He gave an elaborate bow. “I am yours to command.”

Oswyn laughed heartily at that. “As if I could ever really control you, Ellas.”

Ellas grinned back. “So you are willing to accept their terms?”

“These two would never forgive me if I didn’t,” responded Oswyn with a glance at Jasce and Burren. “I accepted your offer of assistance back last summer and nothing has occurred to make me regret that decision. So let’s put this whole business behind us and get on with life shall we?”

“Sounds fine to me,” agreed Ellas. He glanced past Oswyn to where he could see a grey, nearly white horse studying them intently with pricked ears. “So is that your new horse?”

Oswyn nodded with a smile and led them down to the box where they could appreciate him better.

“A defector from the enemy; Alban is an Imperial Warmblood from Tevinter. He’s highly trained too, in real battle manoeuvres not just jousting.”

“How did he wind up here?”

“Alban was bought by some Nevarran noble but he soon began to regret his purchase and sold him on. He’s changed hands several times since then and finally ended up at the market in Ansburg where my agent saw him and bid on my behalf. I got a bargain in Alban.” He gave a wry smile. “Mind you, I didn’t have too many bidding against me; Alban has acquired something of a reputation for being, how shall I put it, quirky.”

Alban arched his neck, rolled his eye and cocked an ear towards Oswyn.

“He is a beauty. So will he be taking part in the Tourney?”

Oswyn gave a smirk, “If I can find anyone willing to ride him. The knights were trying him out this morning and it did not go well so they aren’t too keen. They’d rather stick to my homebreds.”

“Yes, it was good for a laugh,” said Burren, “Seeing a horse making asses out of humans.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Oswyn said dryly.

“I’m a dwarf and a beginner; I’ve more sense than to take him on.”

“I’d love to try riding him,” said Ellas.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Burren gave him a doubtful look. “Wise people take a hint.”

“Wise dwarves,” Ellas grinned at him. “I’m an elf in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Of course, why not?” Oswyn had a twinkle in his eye.

“Bear in mind, that’s a loaded question,” advised Burren. “Still I don’t mind massaging your bruises if you must.”

“Sounds good to me,” Ellas gave him a wink. “Still you never know, maybe I won’t need it.”

Ellas fetched the saddle and he noticed how Alban flicked an ear in his direction as he fitted it. Then, as he tightened the girth, Alban swivelled his head round and made a snatch for his bottom with his teeth, with them giving an audible click as they failed to make contact. Ellas had been ready for him and deftly dodged the attack whilst continuing with his task, at the same time admonishing the stallion.

“That is not a polite thing to do. Where are your manners?”

The ear flicked back towards him again. Ellas noticed that Oswyn was viewing the exchange with amusement. Burren had backed off a little, well out of range of the stallion, watching him warily. Ellas led Alban into the adjoining paddock ready to mount. He guessed he might have similar trouble with the teeth if he mounted the conventional way using the stirrup, so instead he simply vaulted aboard. Alban retaliated by rearing and then leaping forward in a series of bunny hops on his hind legs, after which he returned to the ground and started prancing on the spot, before leaping in the air with all four feet together and kicking out violently with his hind quarters. When he realised Ellas was still firmly in the saddle, Alban started to spin rapidly on the spot, his front end circling his quarters before setting off at a gallop across the paddock in the direction of a tree with low hanging branches. Ellas guessed what Alban was planning and as they reached the tree, swung to one side to avoid making contact with the branch, then back up again to counter the swerve that followed. After a second unsuccessful attempt at dislodging him, Alban raced back across the paddock to where Oswyn was standing and slithered to a violent stop. Still Ellas kept his seat. Oswyn raised his hands in silent applause, whilst Burren whooped his approval from behind the paddock fence and Jasce smiled.

“Well done, you weathered the storm,” Oswyn said approvingly.

“Phew, that was exhilarating.”

Alban arched his neck, snorted and then flicked an ear back towards him again.

“He approves of you,” said Oswyn. “I doubt you’ll have that trouble again.”

“So now you have your rider.” Ellas grinned.

“You are not suggesting that you ride in the Grand Tourney?” Burren said horrified.

“Why not? I can practise targets with Magpie and then swop back to Alban when the breeding season is over.”

“Are you mad?” said Burren. “You could get yourself killed.”

“My sentiments entirely,” agreed Oswyn. “You would be up against men with years of experience and those Orlesians take it deadly serious.”

“I’m counting on it. That’s why I want to do it. I’ll enjoy humiliating Orlesians.”

“Or vice versa,” Burren said ruefully. “You’d be up against Orlesians in the horse race. Please do that instead. Everyone uses elves for that.”

“I don’t want to do something that everyone uses elves for. I want it to be something I have to work at and something where I can’t use magic.” He looked appealingly at Oswyn. “At least let me train and then if I don’t make the grade by the time we leave, I’ll give up on the idea. I just want the opportunity to try.”

“It could create bad feeling among my knights,” said Oswyn. “The others have earned their place representing Dragon’s Peak.”

“You said they didn’t want to ride him. I can be a wild card entry and I’ll pay my own way so I won’t be denying anyone a place.”

“You’ll need armour. That’s expensive and you’ll need it soon so you can get used to the weight.”

“I’ll get the Dalish crafters to make me a breastplate, arm guards and greaves out of iron bark and the rest out of leather. That will reduce the weight and the expense.”

Oswyn glanced towards Jasce. “I take it you think I should let him?”

“It isn’t always the length of time you’ve been doing something that makes you good but how much effort you are prepared to put in, how determined you are to make a success of it. He’s always been a good horseman and you know he doesn’t lack courage. I’ll square it with the lads so they don’t resent it. It’s not as though he’s a stranger to them. Go on, give the lad a chance.”

Oswyn rolled his eyes and sighed. “Very well but on condition you let me train you. That means you’ll have to take orders from me and if I don’t think you can do yourself and Alban justice by the time of the qualifying rounds then you withdraw, okay?”

Ellas grinned and nodded. “I’ll be happy to accept your judgement on the matter.”

Oswyn narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m getting the feeling I’ve been played but you have yourself a deal. I hope I’m not going to regret this.”

“You?” said Burren. “I hope he’s not going to regret it.”

“Stop fretting,” said Ellas. “After all you said you wanted to massage my bruises. Now maybe you’ll get the chance.”

The following morning Ellas awoke to the sound of Oswyn’s concerned voice.

“Why aren’t we moving?”

“Look to the sails, my lord, there is no wind,” replied the captain of the ship. “We are becalmed.”

“How long for?”

“Who can say, I don’t control the weather.”

Ellas sat up and looked out from under their canopy. Sure enough, the sails hung limp on the masts and it was noticeable now how silent it seemed when they weren’t billowing in the wind. He stood up and gazed around him. He judged it to be a couple of hours after sun rise and the temperature was already beginning to rise. As far as the eye could see there was no sign of land and the sea was like glass in all directions. The gentle currents for which Oswyn had chosen this route were now working against them as the ship floated and rocked slightly in the water but exhibited little other movement.

“Do not concern yourself, my lord. You brought extra supplies to allow for this sort of eventuality.”

“I know but I was rather hoping we wouldn’t need them. Even with enough food and water, this delay still won’t be good for the horses.”

Ellas noticed Gerry was up and had already fed the horses. He beckoned him over.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You both looked so peaceful, I didn’t want to. It was no trouble feeding the horses without you.”

“How long has the ship been like this?”

“Well I was awake with the birds at dawn and there was no wind then.”

“Several hours then, that isn’t good.” He thought for a moment. “Okay, Gerry, would you mind doing my chores for me this morning whilst I make some magic?”

“That’s fine by me,” Gerry grinned. “Go ahead.”

Ellas knelt down and shook Burren awake.

“Is it morning already?”

“Yes, sleepyhead, and I need your help. There is no wind and the ship isn’t moving. I can do something about that but it requires absolute concentration so I’m relying on you to keep other people from disturbing me.”

“Why, what are you going to do?”

“An ancient form of magic that controls the elements; it is called wind weaving. So can I rely on you to assist?”

“Of course, only couldn’t we have breakfast first?”

“Get someone to bring you it here. You can eat while you watch over me. I can’t maintain this for more than an hour at a casting, so I’ll have mine when I’ve finished.”

“In that case I’ll wait and have mine with you.”

“Thank you. Here it goes then.”

Without further ado, Ellas sat down, crossed his legs and rested his hands palms up in front of him. Then he closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. When he felt ready, he began to visualise the wind in his mind, becoming one with it, skating across the surface of the sea, gently ruffling it into waves that lapped and pushed against the hull. He moved up, growing in strength and directed the force at the sails. They billowed into life and he was vaguely aware of the sailors on deck expressing their joy at the sight. He breathed in deeply, then exhaled and the ship began to move. The words of an ancient mantra rang continually through his consciousness:

“I am the wind on the sea, I am the ocean wave, I am the sound of the billows…..”

Slowly he raised his hands until his palms were facing in the direction they wish to travel, then he brought them together as though in prayer, continuing to point the way. The wind followed his command and the ship sped northwards.

After the first session, Ellas had breakfast and then continued to wind weave for two further sessions of an hour each, with a half hour break in between, before they reached a new weather front, the wind picked up naturally and his services were no longer required. It was nearing mid-day and he felt the need to stretch his legs after sitting so long in one position whilst Burren fetched him some lunch.

He climbed the stairs to the foredeck and was confronted by a tall, muscular figure in leathers with a fox head and skin adorning his head and neck. On his left hand was a thick leather gauntlet that he held aloft and onto which a white headed eagle swooped in to land.

“Greetings,” the man inclined his head to him with a welcoming smile.

“That’s a beautiful bird.”

“Ah yes, Saba. She prefers to ride the wind than this rolling land, eh girl?”

The eagle bobbed her head and began to preen her gold tinged feathers. The man looked back at Ellas.

“I am Alsgaard Ar Kjus O Stormhold.”

“Astrid’s brother. I am Ellas Darian Tallahnnen, pleased to meet you.”

“And I you,” the man smiled again. “Astrid can be somewhat blunt in her speech. I hope she did not cause you offence.”

“No, not at all,” Ellas assured him. “Why would you think so?”

“Because she admitted to me she told you what I said about the lack of markings on your face.”

“It is an easy mistake to make. Think nothing of it. So which event are you taking part in at the Tourney?”

“I intend to teach the lowlanders a thing or two about archery. It is the same for the rest of my party, either archery or other events where you hit a target rather than a living person, plus one wrestler and of course Astrid in the horse race.”

“What about the Conquest of Arms events? Are there other Avvar on their way?”

“We do not compete as a team but individual holds, whatever the lowlanders like to assume. Others may have travelled independently from us but we represent Stormhold." Alsgaard gave a wolfish grin. “We don’t play at fighting and we gather the event is only to first blood at most, so our best warriors remain in the mountains. If it were being held in winter, that might be a different matter. That would be a sign that Hakkon wished us to show our mettle but fortunately for the lowlanders it is autumn so we take part in events where it is impossible to shed the blood of others.”

“Not interested in the hammer then?”

“By rights it belongs to the dwarves. If the prize was an artefact of my people, then we would take on all comers in every event but as it stands, we are content with the monetary rewards we shall receive. That will be helpful in purchasing goods for our hold that we cannot make for ourselves.”

“Then I wish you well in your endeavors.”

“Likewise,” Alsgaard returned to focussing on his eagle.

When Ellas returned to his resting place, Burren had returned and had been accompanied by Oswyn who had a knowing smile on his face.

“So, wind weaving, is another trick up your sleeve eh?”

“I suppose technically I should have asked your permission but I felt time was of the essence.”

Oswyn chucked. “And you feared you might waste it persuading me to agree?”

“Something like that.”

“There wasn’t any blood magic involved was there?” Oswyn raised an eyebrow at him.

“Oh no, it’s just ordinary primal magic.”

Oswyn snorted. “There is nothing ordinary about your magic, Ellas. Still, with results like this morning, I’m not complaining. It’s okay, there’s no need to check with me in the future. I’m happy to trust to your judgement on these matters. You are clearly able to be discrete.”

With that he walked away and left him in peace to eat his meal. Burren sniggered.

“He was never going to object when it benefitted his horses.”

Ellas grinned back. “I sort of figured as much. Did you tell him?”

“I had to really. He knew you had got Gerry to do your duties this morning and I was refusing to leave your side. Then when he came by earlier, I sort of waved him away. Also the sailors were commenting on the strange behaviour of the wind. Then down in the galley Jasce outright asked if you had done something with the weather so I just filled in the rest. You’re not angry are you?”

“Of course not, Burren, I’d have told him eventually myself. In any case you say that Jasce had figured it out. I did something similar last year and he obviously remembered.”

“I don’t recall that being mentioned at the time.”

“It probably got overlooked with the blood magic issue. The reason those slaver ships never made it to shore to pick up their cargo was due to a storm I called up.”

“Wow,” Burren shook his head in disbelief. “You just sound so casual about it, like it was nothing extraordinary.”

“It isn’t for me.” Ellas shrugged. “Mind you, it isn’t easy. Weather weaving is much more difficult than just creating enough wind to drive the ship. It takes longer to work and it’s more unpredictable as well. Once the spell is cast I have no control over it, although the benefit is that I don’t have to maintain concentration for the duration of its effects which can last several hours or even days. That is why I chose to use wind weaving as I could regulate the strength and direction of the wind and could stop it whenever I chose.

Burren chuckled. “You’ve done so little magic recently that I almost forgot how awesome you are. I guess you were right last night, with you on my side I really don’t have much to worry about.”

Ellas laughed and hugged his friend. “That’s the spirit.”

(OOC: Wind Weaving and Weather Weaving are spells found in the Core Rule Book and thus part of the magical lore of Thedas)