Cullen was meeting with his senior officers in his tower that evening, when a messenger barged in unannounced, "Ser, an urgent message from the Inquisitor!" The man ran it over to him and caught his breath as he read it. At a glance, Evelyn's script appeared rushed and somewhat sloppy by her standards, indicating it had been done in a hurry. This made his stomach knot up. The paper looked as if it was once wet before drying, puckering in places, and upon opening it and seeing multiple smudges, he realized the author had done it:
Commander,
This matter requires your immediate attention. Extreme resistance from Samson's Red Templars in Emprise du Lion. Request immediate aid. Facing bulk of his army, not just a fragment. Need at least one company of soldiers, preferably two, and the Chargers if available. Coordinate with Spymaster for intel on Samson's position. Townsfolk say he's entrenched in granite mine bought from Mistress Poulin. Whole area swarming with Red Templars, unable to gather intel. Currently camped in Sahrnia. Holding position but need reinforcements and supplies urgently or will be overrun. Area frozen beneath foot of ice, making evacuation difficult. Arrange aid from Emperor for people of Emprise du Lion: food, blankets, healers.
Make haste.
Inquisitor Trevelyan
Looking to the messenger panting heavily before him, he ordered, "Send word to the Ambassador and Sister Nightingale to convene in the War Room immediately." At the Commander's urgent tone, he flew out the door, leaving it slightly ajar. "You there, soldier!" He called to the guard just outside, "Get down to The Herald's Rest and find Krem. Have him ready The Chargers for immediate deployment. Tell him I'll meet with him as soon as I can, and pack for the cold. Go!" Looking to the officers before him all on alert after hearing him bark out orders, Cullen brought them up to speed. "The Inquisitor requires immediate assistance in the Emprise du Lion for they are facing the main force of the Elder One's Red Templars. Dane and Foster, ready your soldiers, we leave at first light." The Captains saluted and strode out the door with purpose. "Rylen, have a message sent to Lieutenant Reid in the Emerald Graves and have his men get to the Inquisition camp in a town called Sahrnia in the Emprise du Lion with all haste."
"All of 'em? The whole unit?" His second-in-command questioned as his brow creased with worry.
"Yes, I'll send men to replace his, but the Inquisitor's need is dire and his men are the closest to her location. The scouts can hold the camp, and even then, Fairbanks has the situation in hand for the time being."
"Aye, Commander."
"And Rylen," the Marcher stopped and turned as his hand reached the door latch, "I'll be going with the men to assess the situation and coordinate. I leave you in command here and will let you know what more we'll need. I'll meet with you back here in an hour for a run-down of our military operations." His old friend nodded firmly before hurrying out to carry out his orders.
Dismissing the rest of them, within minutes the Commander had all of Skyhold in a frenzy over the news from Orlais. The Inquisitor was in trouble and there was not a soul who was left sitting idle to help the troops get ready for deployment. Some time ago he had made an emergency plan in case the army was needed to respond immediately to a threat, and though the hour was late, they'd be ready by first light to leave. Making his way briskly to the War Room, his counterparts awaited him anxiously.
"We assume you've had word from the Inquisitor," Leliana studied him as he strode purposely toward the table. In the light of the moons and shadows of the room, she seemed in her element.
"Yes, there is a situation that requires our immediate action." He passed the letter to Josephine - who took the soiled report with two fingers as if it were a dirtied handkerchief - as he began lighting more candles and sliding the pieces representing their troops around on the map. "The Inquisitor believes the heart of Samson's operation is in the Emprise du Lion, and she needs more soldiers, supplies, and reconnaissance." He relayed the contents of the letter to Leliana as Josephine pulled a fresh piece of parchment from her board and began drafting a letter to Emperor Gaspard.
"I'll pull agents from other assignments to help scout the area and speak with locals to find out what has been happening. If he's been there this whole time he must have a large base and a regular supply line." Taking the letter from Josephine, she skimmed it, "And I'll find her notable targets within the quarry."
He nodded, standing back to view the whole map, "I'll be leaving with the men in the morning, so Knight-Captain Rylen will take over for me here. There's an old abandoned elven fortress near the Inquisitor's location which may be of use to us if Samson hasn't taken up residence there. If he has, then we'll be planning an assault to capture it. Either way, with as many men as she's requested, and facing an army of Red Templars, I better go and assist her."
"And what of Samson himself?" The redhead's unflinching gaze held meaning as she watched him like a hawk. "An added incentive to go?" His scowl drew down, unsure of her facial expression that was hidden by the shadow of her cowl. She crossed her arms, "I'm not judging, Cullen, simply asking."
"I will admit, if he is there I'd like nothing better than to tear down his operation with my bare hands after all the Templars he has misled and corrupted. I may no longer be a member of the Order, but I still respect those who serve and sacrifice. If the twisting of the Chantry isn't bad enough, Corypheus and Samson have expertly convinced these men and women to into taking red lyrium." He sighed, tightening his grip on the pommel of his sword. "I wish I could let it go, but I can't. I knew Raleigh and bunked with him for years until he was expelled. If we had stayed friends, I could very well be one of those blighted mindless creatures with crystals growing from me." He stared off for a time as horrid scenarios played out before him.
Josephine had paused her writing, exchanging concerned glances with Leliana. The weight of his words and visions of the Commander as a mutated red monstrosity must've also filled their minds. "Thank the Maker that you were separated before such taint could touch you," the Ambassador's eyes shifted with genuine care.
But he was tainted. The lyrium he took may not have been red, but for the rest of his days, he'd live with the repercussions of his usage. The very thought of how much he dumped into his veins while in Kirkwall - with the approval of Meredith - made his hands shake. All that raw power at his fingertips and the things it did to his mind and personality... how could he be the person he once was after the damage it caused? He thought he was serving the Order and a higher purpose, but what he was doing then was no better than what Samson was doing; it was he after all who told Cullen that taking more than the issued draughts would help him forget. A spike of rage caused him to painfully squeeze the wooden marker he was moving in his hand painfully.
Josephine placed the report back on the table, and his eyes landed immediately on the signature of the author. Like the clouds parting for the sun, his anger was replaced swiftly by burning love and concern for the Inquisitor. In his mind’s eye, he envisioned her always bathed in light that grew with intensity until her fire chased away the shadows. Despite the scars that marked her face and body, in her warm brown eyes was a tenderness. Her supple lips mouthed ‘I forgive you, now forgive yourself,’ speaking of his past sins. Though he was unsure he ever could truly absolve his own guilt, her could hold onto her words with hope of it one day. She was still his guiding light out of the dark; the torch that banished all the shadows in his mind.
He needed to remember that he was also one of the luckiest ex-Templars having survived this long. By all rights, he should be going mad rotting in a bed, or even dead having not taken lyrium for nearly a year. The Maker showed him a path to redemption, and while risky, he knew it was the right choice. It also helped to have met people who cared enough to check on his health. Having had no intention of telling anyone except for Cassandra, he was glad he did. And lest he forget Evelyn's part in all this; fate or coincidence brought the two of them together. Between his nightmares, trauma, and withdrawal symptoms, he's not sure he would've endured had it not been for her steadfast support. Thinking back to their time at Haven when he summoned the courage to speak with her about her similar issues following her encounter with Samson, it truly had been one of the best decisions of his life.
Relenting his iron grip from the marker, he placed his down beside Evelyn's on the table. His fingers grazed the large eye of the Inquisition's symbol and he shut his eyes whispering a prayer under his breath. Leliana had been studying him, and meeting her steely gaze, she offered a resolute nod, "Give our best to Evie when you see her, Cul. We'll be eagerly awaiting word from you. May the Maker guide you in this endeavor." The duality of Leliana at times gave him whiplash; one moment she was plotting intrigue, dissecting every nuance with cold, calculating eyes. The next, she was transformed, radiating kindness and warmth, her words full of genuine affection. He found himself puzzled by the mystery of her nature. Which was the mask? Which was the true self? Or perhaps, in some perplexing paradox, they were both real, two sides of a single, unfathomable soul.
Following the Spymaster, the Ambassador stopped suddenly causing him to peer back curiously at her. Her heeled shoes made a squeal against the stone, and he straightened turning towards her. The Antivan looked to be readying herself to ask something of him, but for some odd reason, he knew and beat her to it. "I'll give Blackwall your regards, and keep an eye out for him."
Josephine's eyes went wide, but quickly gave way to relief, nodding. He found it funny that for all her experience in diplomacy, she had trouble voicing her sentiments for the Warden. "He's still alive then?"
"Well, he's not dead." His dismissal of it so bluntly had her taken back, and he quickly amended his statement, "I mean, wounded, maybe. That is, Evelyn would've noted such news in her letter if something happened to him or any of her companions. You haven't seen them in battle as I have, for if you had you'd feel better about their chances."
"Yes, of course. Thank you, Cullen." He gave her a reassuring smile that seemed to bolster her with hope. Stepping closer, she slipped something small into his hand. By the feel and shape, it was a folded letter. Her round gray eyes met his for a moment in a wordless agreement and before leaving she simply added, "May Andraste watch over you all."
Returning to his tower, he felt the adrenaline rush of getting the opportunity to go back out in the field. While he understood the importance of his careful attention to overseeing all of the military operations they had spread out on both sides of the Waking Sea, he always preferred to be a boots-on-the-ground sort of presence for his men. His meticulous organization and attention to detail was why Cassandra had first recruited him, after seeing his coordination of relief efforts in Kirkwall, but he had years of battle experience – not to mention a young and fit body – that were going to waste being cooped up and chained to a desk in Skyhold. As he met with Rylen and packed, his heart-pounding anxiousness churned his stomach, remembering who'd be waiting to greet him upon his arrival. Maker, he missed Eve. Each morning, he had been surprised to wake up beside her, and now it was a shock that she wasn't there. In the middle of the night, he found himself drawing the sheets and blankets to him, as if trying to pull her ghost into his embrace. Skyhold seemed devoid of life without her; she was his world and future.
Sweet Andraste, would she still be alive by the time he and the men made it…
Josephine's concerns did nothing to silence his own, nor did his own words in response. He tried not to dwell on the dark thoughts that stabbed into his gut every so often as well, trying to scry into the night sky to see how she was faring. Resting his elbows on the window sill, he closed his eyes, reciting another prayer of protection to the stars. He reassured himself that Evelyn was perfectly capable of defending herself and had the aid of her formidable companions, not to mention Korbin. That dwarf could be two days dead and still swinging his maul with lethality. They could hold on until they arrived... they had to.
It'd be days before they reached Sahrnia, and something in his churning stomach was telling him the men that he diverted from the Emerald Graves would buy them time, but still wouldn’t be enough. Such a massive concentration of Red Templars could only mean that they had finally tracked down Samson With growing fortifications in the Western Approach and Crestwood, along with Skyhold in the Frostbacks, the Inquisition's influence and legions were growing, but so too were their operations. The Commander was trying his best to provide the manpower they needed to not only hold key areas from Corypheus' forces trying to retake them but also stabilize the region.
At the incessant sound of his office doors opening and closing below, he knew it was going to be a long night and headed back down to ensure everything would be ready. Soldiers, supplies, and healers, her words kept running through his head. Make haste, that one line haunting his every move. Time was of the essence and ready or not, they were departing upon the rising sun. Make haste.
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Night had fallen, ceasing the constant strings of attacks from Samson's abominations. The more time they spent in the company of the Red Templars, the more they learned about them, including a working theory that they were unable to see well. They responded to movement with jerky reflexes of their own and their eyes were inflamed by the poison, leading them to believe this was the reason for their aversion to the night. Had they the men, they could easily attack their camps after dark, but they were hardly holding on as it was. Whatever the reason for the nightly truce, as soon as darkness swallowed the landscape, their attacks would stop giving Evelyn and her team time to recover their injuries and mana.
Their plan to hold the enemy at the caves failed a few days ago, and the combined elemental power of Evelyn, Sorin, and Solas was able to cause a large enough explosion to collapse the tunnels. However, it would not be secure for long as the scouts reported that they could hear the Red Templars clearing the rubble. The blockage was causing the enemy to traverse down the steep slope on the far side of the mountain and traverse down the ice. When Harding braved a hike out at night to scout their path for anything they could use to slow them, she was surprised to find a few of their Knights dead from the cold. Their bodies littered the trail and some were even trampled on without a care. From where they were now camped on the bank of the Elfsblood River, she swore she could hear the echoes of their pickaxes tapping away at the stone getting ever closer to breaking through. If she wasn't already freezing, it would surely wrack her back with chills. If they were to clear the passage, her team would be forced to fall back to the town and hold until reinforcements arrived, but that was their last resort. As Korbin drilled into her head through the weeks, Sahrnia was indefensible.
The beaten and battered crew boasted plentiful bruises and cuts. They were out of healing potions, and low on lyrium, which they saved for Solas to use for healing the group. Aside from non-magical methods of healing, the elven apostate was all they had for the major wounds. He stayed back from the fighting, casting barriers and patching up the fighters when need be. The rest of the party threw their magic, blades, and bodies at the enemy all day. It was almost comical the way they slunk back to camp after dark hunched over from exhaustion only to collapse, sometimes in a heap, until Solas pulled them apart for healing. Any surface cut was painful if left untreated, for the water from melted snow would freeze and expand within it. Each of them had their share of broken bones, knockouts, and moments of their lives flashing before their eyes, yet they awoke every morning ready for the next fight.
Their armor was sundered, and some were missing pieces that had been ripped from their bodies by the brutish Knights. They were at least seven feet tall with their skin puckered and pulled taught like Corypheus' face. They had incredible strength that sent all those without a shield ducking behind someone who had one. The most annoying were the ones they called 'Shadows.' They were former rogues, able to turn invisible and stab at you with their crystalized arms that were sharpened like a blade. Aside from a magical barrier, the only way to thwart them was with traps and mines. Varric and Owayne both had a trained eye to give warning as to their whereabouts on the field of battle, but the bastards were still quick to slice and stab you in the back. The other monstrosities they coined 'Horrors,' ugly hunchbacks with the ability to cast energy barriers, fire, and accelerate the corruption of the red lyrium to make their allies stronger. The worst of the bunch were the Behemoths, but they were saved when the enemy believed them to be close to defeat.
Put waves of those blighted creatures together and Evelyn truly began to wonder what it felt like not to be in pain, for it seemed never-ending.
Then there was the red lyrium…
As if things weren't bad enough, the giant primordial crystals protruding from the ground were messing with her mana and mind. Solas and Sorin were simply agitated when they were near it, but having taken it twice, Evelyn noticed a crippling pull toward it. Its deafening resonating hum when they came close to a large vein rang in her ears upon approach. The anchor would flare defensivly as would her own mana, causing her heart to race with an anxious nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nightmares threatened the three mages' sleep, and more and more they felt the presence of demons lurking and watching them from in the Fade. Their screams punctuated the silence of the twilight, waking up a portion of the camp while the others slept like the dead. The voices from her dreams haunted her constantly, putting an almost unbearable strain on her.
"Oh brave, brave mage. You will never escape us. You can slip into your salvation, the arms of the Templar, and those who you think can protect you in ignorance. There are ways in which you cannot even protect yourself, but eventually, you will slip. You will take your bow and in your moment of greatest triumph, you will stand only to fall back into the arms of those who would wait an age for their piece. Have you a clue how popular you are here? The anchor, fighting the Nightmare, galivanting through the fade. There isn't a demon here that doesn't want a piece of you, I merely hope there is enough to go around. You are so very small after all, such a meager fish to be moving so bravely in a pond toward the bottom of which is a concept you can never understand. Don't worry, mighty Phoenix, we will not act without knowing we will succeed. And when we do, we will ensure there is enough of you left to hate."
They are the words of evil incarnate, do not give in. Do not falter. You cannot fail, for so many depend on you, she chants it like a mantra in her head against the dark. Looking around at her companions only made the latter part more evident. When one of them went down and was dragged away for Solas to tend to them, the call of the red lyrium was that much stronger. Secretly, she had tucked a shard of it into her armor to use if necessary. It was her fallback plan. It was also a promise of power to crush her enemies definitely but at a cost. What would the song ask of her this time?
"Boss, someone should tell you before it's too late but… your hair looks like shit."
Evelyn stopped her brooding and shuffling feet to glare at Bull, acknowledging her nervous habit of always fixing her hair. "Thank you, as if I truly needed confirmation of that fact. These past weeks have taught me why Cass wears her short. Long hair was not meant for helmets." The Qunari shrugged and kept walking. "I'd fix it but my arms are so sore and tired I don't want to lift them."
"I'm sure Chuckles knows a spell or two to remedy that… Oh, wait," Varric's voice was made humorous from his attempt to stop a nosebleed.
"Hilarious," was all Solas offered in his defense of his baldness, waving a hand in front of the dwarf's face to staunch the bleeding.
Having finished the spell, Varric settled into a comfy spot but was jostled when Bull's heavy axe and then body hit the ground in a huff beside him. "Tiny, no! Get your shit, and get as far away from me as you can. You're really starting to smell like a bull!" Solas glanced back at the dwarf with a smirk, having got a smidge of revenge having restored his sense of smell. "Laugh it up, Chuckles."
"Surely he can't smell--" Cassandra bent and took a whiff, coughing a few times, "Maker Bull, you really… and he's asleep already. Amazing."
"Cass, no roses in the bath…" As the slumbering Qunari spoke in his sleep the others shared amused looks, though the Seeker was blushing something fierce. "…Violets or a nice frangipani."
Faster than anyone had a right to in their condition, Owayne began knocking on Bull's forehead, "Hey, no sexy dreams about Cassandra! You hear me, you big meaty ox?" Ignoring him, the Ben-Hassrath simply turned on his side and snorted a long snore.
Michel clapped her brother on the shoulder with a look of sympathy, "I am sorry, but it seems you are sharing your lady tonight." The chevalier cast a glance at Sorin, and Evelyn quickly joined him, giving the Orlesian a cold stare. One night, as she and her friend were getting ready to sleep, the smooth-talking swordsman approached with a proposal to find a secluded spot in the ruins. She quickly shot him down with a ‘not happening,’ but to her surprise, Michel wasn't interested in her; he was eyeing Sorin. The young Knight-Enchanter, with a face as expressionless as stone, responded with his own curt, ‘not happening.’ And even Owayne, who was nearby, let go of a sleeping Cassandra to add, ‘You're barking up the wrong tree.’ From that night onward, Michel refrained from direct propositions, yet his longing glances towards Sorin persisted. Knowing too many Orlesian nobles who saw "no" as a challenge rather than an answer, Evelyn resolved to remain ever watchful and stay close by to protect her friend.
From Evelyn's place of rest lying propped up against her bedding, she winced reaching for a cup of water. She had fade-stepped into the fray to flank a Shadow but was caught and pummeled into the rockface by a beastly Knight. The pyromancer had suffered injuries to her ribs many times, so she knew at least two were broken. The hit had also aggravated the stab wound in her chest as well, taking the wind out of her. Thankfully, Sorin had materialized to slay them, and she repaid the favor the next raid when a Horror had him pinned to the ground with its long claws dug deep into his shoulders. Looking over at him now, he was trying to heal his injuries to save Solas from bearing the brunt of the healing for the group of ten. As her one-time apprentice's frustration grew, he released the spell with a hardly detectable huff that was only discernable by his close friend with the trained eye. Meeting each other's gaze, she smiled wanly back understanding the feeling, for she gave up on healing a long time ago.
Moving over closer beside her, the two lounged back looking up over the red halo the lyrium crystals made over the mountains. They settled into a comfortable silence simply taking comfort in the other's presence as they had on Circle missions over two years ago. Evelyn couldn't help but muse on some of those adventures, causing her to think how drastically life had changed.
"We've been through some shit, haven't we?"
Sorin snorted, "We really have."
"It's odd. I can't imagine going back to live in a Circle, can you?"
He pursed his lips together and slowly shook his head against his bedroll, "No. Do you think we'll have to go back?"
They turned their heads to look at each other, propped up on their packs, "We may not, but others will. Josie thinks some in the Inquisition may get special dispensation."
"You will. If not, I think there would be an uproar." He paused a long moment searching the heavens with his pale blue eyes. His raven hair fluttered back with the harsh wind that made the two of them hug themselves shivering. Dried blood and dirt blotted his pale skin, as did a bruise along his angular jawline.
Being separated from Cullen and able to spend more time with her other friends made her realize she had been so focused on her future, that she forgot about the others. "Any plans for when this all does finally end?"
A pained look made his eyes squint slightly, "No. I'm sure you do though." There was a quiet sadness in his voice, one that threatened to break her heart.
Having met when they were very young, Sorin became attached to her after an incident involving some Chantry Sisters who had shamed him for being half-elf. His mother, Eliza Cyrus, had an extramarital affair with one of the serving elves while her husband was away on business. Thaddeus Cyrus, adhering to the principles of Andrastian forgiveness, had endeavored to raise the boy as his own. Having heard this, not only did they torment the young boy for being a mage - as they did them all - but because he was part-elf. One day Evelyn had enough, not only threatening the Sisters by invoking the Trevelyan name but using her fiery rage to frighten them into leaving their post. Naturally, the Templars silenced her until she blacked out, but never again did she find herself without the boy with stormy black hair.
Her brow creased, "Not as many plans as you'd think. I only just told my father about Cullen." Sorin hummed in acknowledgment, looking away. "Are you still angry with him?"
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"Why would that be of any consequence?" He seemed defensive.
"Because I love him and you're like a brother to me, and I want you to get along in case you want to come with us after this is all over."
"You-- what?!" He looked at her as if she was crazy in a rare show of emotions.
She huffed, "I have no idea what he and I are doing after this. Maybe going off somewhere quiet to live in peace, maybe it'll be back with his family in South Reach, or maybe we'll still travel and just take dangerous jobs to help people. It's all a lot of 'ifs' and 'maybes,' but you'd be welcome to come with us."
"Sounds like you haven't spoken with him about that." Sorin's head fell heavy back looking up towards the sky again. "This is fucking stupid anyway, for we don't even know if I'll be free or you'll live through the mark's magic. Maybe we both die tomorrow here in fucking Orlais, of all places."
"Always the fucking optimist, Sorin" she smiled at him even if he couldn't see it. "First off, if the Chantry wants to do anything with you, they'd have to go through me; that much will never change. Secondly, Cullen would not have an issue with it because, in a world that wants people like me dead, one's safety relies on numbers. He's a rational man, I don't suspect he'll trade his sword for a scythe so readily. And I don't delude myself with the idea that once Corypheus is dead, that our enemies, both old and new, will simply leave me alone." She had his attention now and she lowered her voice more, "When I spoke to the Hero of Ferelden back at Skyhold, she mentioned my actions and my power will be the first thing the new Divine will strip me of. That I should wield what influence I can while I have the backing of the Inquisition and Queen Elissa. All the reforms we advocated for, all the ideas we had to make the lives of mages better we can push for now, but it will make more enemies for us."
"But if it means bettering the lives of mages, and even Templars, we must try."
"And we will, soon. The Elder One must be dealt with first."
"But what if the Mothers elect a new Divine in the meantime?"
Evelyn smirked conspiratorily, "As I've heard it, the candidates in consideration are in the Inquisition, so there is a good chance whoever is elected will be willing to work with us toward reform." A wave of understanding washed over him. "For now, we have time as they are just beginning to nominate potential candidates. But back to my original point, if I implement major change, a target will appear on my back bigger than before. Anyone who hates mages will have their sights on me. If you decide you want to come with us, know that our "peace" would be an illusion."
"Does Cullen know all this?"
"Not really, but I suspect he does to an extent." She smiled smugly, "We had other more satisfying matters worth tending to when we returned." Sorin rolled his eyes in quiet disapproval. Chuckling as much as her injuries allowed, the crunch of snow made them turn to look behind them.
"My apologies for the interruption, but you're next in my rounds, Inquisitor," Solas spoke with a droll tone.
"Sorin before me, I can wait."
"Very well, but one way or another tonight you will allow me to look at the anchor." Having been busy this week with a plethora of wounds, the elf's inspection of how her mark was spreading had been postponed. Since arriving in the area, she closed several rifts and had to use her mark's power in a few dire situations amid the fighting.
If she was being honest, she didn't want to know how it was spreading or how they couldn't do anything to stop it. All she could do was pick and choose the right moments when to use the mark. Every rift sealed was coming at a price now, but there was nothing to be done, they needed to be closed. The more she used it, the more powerful its magic became, adapting to her carry out her will. At Adamant, it had given her the strength to break down the gates, when all it could do before was suck demons back into the Fade. The red lyrium had certainly messed with it, but the collective minds of the mages of the inner circle were unable to discern how.
"Inquisitor," Solas broke her of her thoughts, "your hand, please." Gazing into his pale eyes, she huffed in defeat placing it in his. His long fingers traced about her palm, "Do you still have feeling in your hand and fingers?"
"It's hard to tell being all but frozen for the past two weeks." The ache in her muscles from continuous shivering was verging on insufferable.
He snorted, "Good point." When she stared at him pathetically, he sighed heavily, "I may have found a spell to help stop the spread. I don't know much about the particular spell, so I didn't want to get your hopes up before I was able to conduct thorough research." At his omission, her eyes went wide. "But regardless, it is not a solution, simply a temporary remedy."
"What is it?! How did you learn of it?!" It was a surprising reveal, but something about it seemed as if he had been hiding it.
"From my Fade walks speaking with the Spirits. It has finally bore fruit as we've sorted through the past's wisdom."
"Why don't you seem thrilled by the notion of using this spell, Solas?" Both she and Sorin narrowed their stares at him. A glance at her friend found that his lip was slightly twitching up as if in a snarl. She and Sorin had always distrusted him. It had been ingrained within them that they could trust an apostate as much as they could trust a maleficar. Ever since Solas began helping with calming the anchor in Haven, Sorin was always on hand to assist the elf, fearful of what he was doing to her, especially when she was in and out of consciousness. Solas typically did not tolerate any of the others, making her former apprentice the perfect mage to quietly observe and assist him as he tended to Evelyn. This, the two Knight-Enchanters kept to themselves, allowing the others of the Inquisition to question him openly, like how Madame Vivienne was constantly doing.
"It's an ancient elven spell that has a connection to the orb, but the Spirits cannot tell me more than that. It's a risk, as with all forgotten knowledge."
"If you trust the Spirits and believe it will be beneficial, I'm willing to try it. You don't think it would cause harm, correct?" He shook his bald head confidently. "In any case, I'd like the Seeker here as you administer the spell. Please get her and bring her up to speed." Nodding, Solas left to find her, leaving them alone once more.
The dark-haired mage crossed his arms, "E, you don't really think this is a good idea, do you?"
She shrugged, "We've had our suspicions about him, but he seems to genuinely want to keep me alive. I think it may be time to consult Sister Nightingale. I'm sure she's already investigated him, but she's an expert on motives. "
"I agree."
"For now, we let him cast his spell, and when we return to Skyhold--"
He scoffed, "You mean if we return."
Evelyn smacked his arm, "Shut it! When we return to Skyhold, we'll speak with her. For now, just pay attention to the energy in the spell. Reinforcements are no doubt almost here. We just have to hang on a little longer." Easier said than done, she thought to herself.
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A few days later…
"Fall back to the wall!" Evelyn yelled over the din of battle. Crimson lightning zigged and zagged through the air missing her as she ducked behind a portion of the ancient highway cutting high above them. When the attack ceased, she spun out firing off a slew of fireballs at the enemy in an attempt to cover the retreat of the others. A chain of lightning accompanied it as Sorin - from wherever he was -was synchronizing their attacks. She couldn't help but observe the fatigue and loss of discipline in her companions' movements, including her own. Yesterday, they noticed a sharp increase in Red Templar numbers, and today it felt as if they were facing double what they had been. The fighters were yelling out their kill numbers periodically for Varric to keep track of in his mathematical mind.
"Blaze, we're nearing our daily average total already!" The dwarven rogue fired off several explosive shots to keep the enemy off balance.
"You're fucking with me?!" She kept herself behind cover panting as she realized they weren't going to last the day at this rate. If she was already exhausted, the warriors on the ground were well past that. "Shit! Solas," the elf peered around from a wall further from the fighting, "get to Harding, tell her to expect us soon! She knows what to do!" Nodding, he fade-stepped towards town leaving the group without a healer.
From her position of cover, the Inquisitor took stock of their battle – a losing battle. Despite how many of the enemy were slain, their exhaustion and poor position gave the Red Templars the advantage. The battlefield was the only equalizer; the frozen river. To get to them, the monsters had to trek down a substantial length of the solid Elfsblood River, so in the meantime, they had planned to hound them on their slow march, but not break the ice. Should they compromise it, the Inquisition camp would be cut off from reinforcements and their only means of escape. The town boats had been scrapped for firewood, not doing anyone any good grounded. It seemed even the Red Templars had no desire to destroy it either, at least until they cleared the collapsed cave path to get at them. On its banks were ruined homes and other buildings that they used for cover, but each Behemoth let loose on them and destroyed more and more of it. The ranged fighters kept to the sides, while the warriors were out on the slippery ice, relying on the cover of the mages and Varric's crossbow for support.
The deep blue hue of the frozen waters was scarred by blades and chipped by heavy hits, yet it held as if made of gemstone. Evelyn had no fear of using her magic on it, for as hot as her magic was, the cold of winter was stronger. It would take excessive amounts of her mana to melt it, and as things stand, she could not afford to do that unless defeat was imminent.
"Uh, Blaze…" she turned back to Varric, "look!” Caught on the ice was Korbin and Bull. Everyone else had retreated into the cluster of ruined buildings, but the two Reavers must’ve got caught trying to provide cover. “We may need to retrieve Dwarfspawn and Tiny, I’m not sure they’ll be able to handle them all!"
"Where's my brother?"
"Pickle? He's two buildings in front of you with Champ."
"Thanks! And Varric," the dwarven rogue fired off another explosive volley before turning to look at her, "these nicknames are about the only thing keeping a smile on my face."
He gave her a smirk, "I do my best."
With that, Evelyn spun around the corner, holding a lesser barrier up in front of her as she made her way to Owayne and Michel. Ducking behind their cover - a tall peach-colored wall with a broken window in the center - she huddled shoulder to shoulder with her sibling. "Bull and Korbin need help against the Shadows, do you have any more grenades or bombs? Something to help them see the blighted things?" With Korbin relatively new to fighting them and Bull's one eye, when the Shadows turned invisible, they began shredding the sides and limbs of the two warriors.
"I've been out of bombs for days, Evie! And apparently, I'm not talented enough to concoct them in my sleep." Owayne was slashed all about his leather armor and heavy coat. There was a cut resembling her own scar etched across his nose dribbling blood. "What I wouldn't give for one of Sera's Jar of Bees…"
"Well, we have to do something! I won't leave them!" A green spark lit up the ruined building, giving her an idea. Solas had cast a protective spell around her mark, perhaps it was time to put it to the test. The Inquisitor sighed heavily, "I'm going to open a rift to keep the bastards distracted while we retrieve them. Michel, can you help get me there?"
The Orlesian looked as if he had a pile of debris dumped on him, his golden hair was more gray as dust fell from him with each of his movements. His cheeks were bloodied and the shine on his armor had been gone long ago, yet he still managed to look dashing. "Oui, ready when you are, Inquisitor."
Owayne held out a hand crossing the swordsman quickly across the empty window before he could get hit by the Horrors' magic. "What do you want me to do, sis?"
"We're retreating to town," he gave her a disappointed face, and though she shared the sentiment, they were out of time. "We can't hold out on our own, we're nearly dead on our feet as it is! I don't like it any more than you do, but we have no choice. I have no idea how close our reinforcements are. I sent the raven four or five days ago, so they should be here soon. I told the Commander I'd hold this position, it's too valuable to lose!"
"Then you know Cullen is hauling arse to get here!"
Michel was in front of her peering around the wall waiting for the opportunity to make a break for Bull and Korbin, but she lowered her voice anyway. "You think he'll actually be with them?"
He scoffed at her, but a cough from the cold choked him mid-sass, "Of course! His damsel is in distress, there's no way he'd be content sitting around at Skyhold."
A small glimmer of hope twinkled in her eyes; when she had written the request for aid she didn't think he'd personally lead the soldiers. However, the more she thought about it, it was silly not to assume he wouldn't be in route with the troops considering it was his job. A jolt of resolve hit her, clearing the clouds of doubt as to her duty. They could hold on for a little longer.
A firm hand grabbed her forearm, "Now! Move, move!" Michel tugged her out from cover behind him but released her a moment later so they could dash forward in a line protected by his shield. His golden lion shield was tarnished, but still flashed in the lambent sunshine that tried to break through the heavy snow clouds. Owayne trailed them for a bit but broke off as they got closer.
Evelyn pulled her staff, hoping the enchanted weapon would help stretch her mana reserve. In her head, she solidified her plan of attack, and letting go of Michel, the Phoenix fade-stepped through him between the two meaty warriors. "Time to go, boys!" A quick set of stabs and spins with her staff took out two Shadows.
"By the Stone, no nug-shit, Inquisitor!" Korbin's gravelly voice rasped out as his maul cleaved a Knight's head open as if it were a plump melon.
"Harding is readying an ambush in town, fall back there!"
The Iron Bull was swinging his greataxe in circles trying to knock back the encroaching Shadows. "That sounds great and all, but… how do suppose we fucking get there, Boss?!" With a roar, the Qunari's frustration was showing as he wildly swung, severing crystal limbs off the corrupted rogues. Tapping into the anchor's magic, Evelyn's fiery wings spread as she prepared to open the rift. Rigidly she faced her palm toward the ground as the mark gathered strength from her mana. "Whoa, no need to be rash now…"
"I'll be fine," she gritted out and aimed her hand up above them, "start running!" The Red Templars seemed to be interested in her magical display and allowed the three warriors to clear the area. Just as she was about to release the anchor's power, a familiar voice paralyzed her.
"Inquisitor!" Samson greeted her with a cheery lilt. Her fellow Marcher came forward, flanked by Templar archers. When he halted, the ones in front took a knee, drawing their bowstrings back tightly. For the most part, he looked the same as when she saw him last with the addition of a carved red lyrium crystal protruding from his chestplate. It pulsed every so often like a heartbeat. "So good to see you again! You've been a very busy little mage rooting out my suppliers and destroying my supply lines. Though I'm rather surprised you bothered to do it yourself. Would've thought the Inquisition had people for that now."
"I'm the hands-on sort, always have been." There was a great skidding and shuffling behind her as her companions closed ranks on her. She didn't bother to look, but she assumed everyone was there. "Care to fill me in on your latest project here? You seem to not want me to see it."
"Simple," he gestured back over the mountain to the left, "I'm mining."
Evelyn scoffed, placing her hands on her hips, "Let's not lie to each other, Samson. I thought you and I were past such things." She chided him, making him chuckle.
"Fair enough, I suppose it's unlikely that you'll survive the day - well, you will Trevelyan, your friends not so much. The Elder One has plans for you."
"Forgive me for not leaping with joy, I'm terribly sore from slaying all your precious experiments."
"Yes, it was quite rude, which is why I'm here, to crush you and your merry little band of followers. You're ruining my plans of mining the primeval crystals that have grown here to feed to our recruits. With the help of a friendly demon by the name of Ishmel, the whole area has become a fertile bed for red lyrium." At his words, Michel hissed a curse at the demon in his native tongue. Even Korbin grumbled, lowly grumbling about what he was doing to the Stone. "High up in Suledin Keep, I've been keeping my eye on you down here, running ragged like pesky ants in a vegetable garden, destroying my crystals. Well, no more."
Evelyn was committing his words to memory, wanting to remember them for later when the reinforcements arrived - if they were still alive by then. "And how are you planning on stopping us? If you've been watching us then you know we've been kicking your arse for weeks!"
Even from this distance, she could see his face darken, "If I wanted to overwhelm you, I would've done so long ago. I admit that when you collapsed the cave trail, it did hinder us a bit, but I was just buying time to try out a beast of mine on you." Any smugness the Inquisitor was still wearing was whisked away as the ground trembled with heavy footfalls. Rising over the hill was the gigantic form of a grotesque giant. The shaggy blue skin of the monster stood out in contrast with its mantle of crimson spikes adorning its shoulders and upper back. From its forearms grew thick pointed shards like two large daggers. Red lightning crackled around its head and each step jingled with broken chain links from wherever Samson had the beast imprisoned.
"Craaap," Bull growled.
"By the beards of the Paragons… can your rift swallow that thing, Inquisitor?"
"No, Korbin, I don't believe it can," Evelyn's voice sounded distant and weary. With a groan, she tilted her head to the side, now addressing Samson, "Can we save the fight for tomorrow after some rest? I promise we'll give you a good show then."
"Tired, Trevelyan? I think I have something for that," signaling to an archer at his side, the glowing red-tipped arrow was aimed and fired at her. The missile flew with frightening speed, faster than her friends' shields could move to cover her. As she began casting a barrier, the arrow snapped and shattered in mid-air, hit by an expertly shot crossbow bolt. Looking back over her shoulder, Varric stared down the sights of Bianca, giving her a nod. Letting go of the breath she was holding, a steaming stream blew out of her mouth in relief. Seeing Samson bar his teeth at the failed attempt, he tried to get the other to shoot her, but in the small fraction of the time that they used to find the right arrow, the Herald used to release the rift magic that had built up in her marked hand.
With a call to fall back, Samson's seemingly foolproof plan fell apart around him. Clawing, scraping, and guttural growls followed the emerald explosion as it sucked the corrupt back into the Void. In the distance, she could hear that their leader had escaped, leaving the clumsy giant and a few dozen men to finish them off. For now, the rift was enough to keep the Red Templars back, but the colossal monster stood in front of the tear in the Veil with its eyes fixated on the Inquisitor and her party.
Owayne whispered, "Maybe if we don't move…" There was a moment where no one did, but with a mighty bellow, the giant charged and the Inquisition's best fighters all screamed, "… it'll squish us like grapes! Run!"
Scattering in all directions like a game of marbles, they circled the beast. It was incredibly powerful, but also unsteady in its movements as if it wasn't used to having to fight with the extra weight of the crystals. The deep sound of the ice bucking deep below them was unnerving, and if it were possible despite already being frozen, a cold pit opened within Evelyn's stomach. The giant whipped its head back and forth as they spread out around it, unable to choose his first victim.
"Inquisitor?" Cassandra called from beside her, flicking her gaze between her and their enemy. The battered Seeker was favoring a leg. "Maybe now would be the time to break the ice?"
Evelyn switched out her weapons, brandishing her dragon bone spirit blade. "The river isn't going to kill that thing! Between the heat from the red lyrium and the fact that the giant is, well, a giant, it'd be more trouble than us hacking it down." There was some agreement from those around her, as well as mental hyping for the battle to come.
"Can we just… get this beating over with?" Owayne whined.
Blackwall, never easily rattled, tried to reassure her brother, "Easy lad, if we can slay a dragon, we can kill a giant. How bad--" But a surprisingly quick punch from the creature broke the two apart, "-- fuck, it's fast!"
The memory sparked something in the Inquisitor's frozen mind, "Blackwall's onto something. Let's take it down like we did the dragon in Crestwood! Sorin and I will blind it with spells, and the rest of you cut it down from its legs; alternate runs in and out from underneath it. Varric, start breaking it's crystals to weaken it!"
"This is a rotten plan," Owayne grumbled.
"Shut it!" Growled Evelyn and Cassandra in unison.
"Alright, I'm going in first! Who's with me?!" The Iron Bull roared with renewed vigor, followed by Blackwall, and the two of them rushed its legs slashing at the thick leathery skin. Sorin buzzed the giant's face with lightning making the big oaf swat at it like flies and Evelyn tried to set its straggly hair on fire. Cassandra and Owayne paired up for the next run, followed by Korbin and Michel.
For a time, this method worked, but when the rift closed itself, nothing was preventing the small force Samson left behind from attacking them. As the situation deteriorated rapidly, the group found themselves fighting for their lives. Swords and shields flashed through the cold gray fog; fire and lightning spells tore through the fighting, causing their targets to cry out; and pink mist from landed hits was the only color to be seen against the drab backdrop. Her swordsmen and woman were changing shields as they could upon finding ones in better condition than their own, and the same went for everyone's blades as they dulled from the carnage.
Fade-stepping to Sorin, she knew something drastic needed to be done, "I need you to impale the back of the giant's knees with me!”
"What?!"
"You get the right, I'll get the left leg. We'll cripple it for the others." His shoulders slumped, and she was going to say something like Owayne's whininess was rubbing off on him, but now wasn't the time. "Come on, we need to do something before we're overwhelmed again, and our spirit blades can cut right through its ligaments!" He nodded though clearly not happy about it, and the two shot into the beast like two angry wasps using their fade-step abilities.
An enormous roar descended on the battle, causing everyone to stumble back at the sudden noise. Meanwhile, the two Knight-Enchanters buried their magical blades deep in its flesh, cutting away at it and using their primal spell to increase the damage dealt until its legs buckled, grounding itself on the ice. At that, Bull and Korbin charged it like two berserkers landing devastating hits to the giant’s chest. Owayne climbed its spine with his daggers, bounding up to its neck, and stabbed his dual blades into the base of the monster's skull. Two hard kicks to the pommels later, and the beast was flat on the ice, dead.
From atop the creature, Owayne shouted, flexing his muscles, "You see that, Cass?!"
The Seeker dropped her weapons in exhaustion but found it within herself to smirk and shake her head. "Yes, now get down!"
As he did so, his sister was already pacing and scrambling for a plan, knowing the reprieve from fighting was going to be a short one. "Even with Harding's ambush, there are too many."
"What are the sodding chances the reinforcements are here, taking their bleeding time back at camp?" Korbin panted leaning on his maul.
"I think we're on our own again," she frowned over at him. "There is one thing we, rather I, can do to buy us more time… I can take red lyrium." Evelyn hardly finished her sentence before mostly everyone yelled a stern 'no' at her. "You saw what I can do with it! I could easily kill all those bastards!"
Cassandra grabbed her arm, "This place isn't worth whatever price it decides to exact from you this time! Let us retreat, abandon the camp, and when our soldiers arrive we'll take it back."
"We've held it this long, " Bull cut in, "why give it up now?" The Legionnaire and Warden were quick to agree.
"Um, because there is an army of Red Templars a few dozen yards away and there are ten of us?" Owayne shrugged, then turned to Evelyn, "Evie, we've done all we could here, let's be reasonable."
Clenching her fist, green sparks sputtered out of it, "Samson is right over there! I'll not--"A sudden shock wave hit them all, sprawling them down on the ice. The force was such, that Evelyn barely had time to catch herself before cracking her skull against the frozen river. Picking her head up, she saw their glowing forms approaching through the mist. There were too many. Samson wanted them dead and her captured, and the only logical move was to overwhelm them with numbers. "Sorin, on my command we blast the giant at them… now!" The two Knight-Enchanters force-pushed the giant's body through their line. The slow and uncoordinated jerky movements of the abominations couldn't dodge the hulking body quick enough, toppling them and giving the Inquisitor's party time to get back on their feet.
Evelyn didn't, however. Digging into her coat pocket, she felt the warmth the crystal emitted. Bringing it out, she stared at the red lyrium in her hand. It was their only salvation. She had to use it. The demons, song, and nightmares be damned, she was going to use it.
"No!" Sorin rasped over to her from on the ground, "Don't do it!"
"I'll not let you all die!"
"At what cost?" His desperate plea was not enough to make her second guess her choice.
She shook her head, time was running out. Holding it steady before her, she pushed up her sleeve. Her veins began to throb and ache as if sensed the red taint. With the enemy bearing down on them she raised her hand, aimed her stab, praying whatever this demon wanted, she could afford to pay it.
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The Commander was both relieved and aggrieved to arrive at Sahrnia. The whole journey he was plagued by terrible nightmares. Most were of the disastrous situation he was walking into and the fate of Evelyn and her party. A few days ago, word ceased coming from the camp altogether. Not helping his anxiety, he pushed the men to travel a few more miles a day than what was scheduled knowing that each stop could mean life or death for the Inquisitor. Despite his desire to not rest as they neared their destination, if his men were spent, what good would they be to step in as relief? Evelyn was a powerful mage, but only so much as she had mana, and if supplies were low somehow, they were surviving on their natural stamina alone - all of them were.
Arriving at the Inquisition's camp, he found it in a worse state than what he was prepared for. For one, there were hardly any soldiers around for the Inquisition to lay claim to it. The only ones they came across were wounded and bedridden in shabby tents. The village of Sahrnia looked as if it had been shelled by catapults for days. Cullen had yet to see a building that remained even partially intact. The homes of the once prosperous mining town looked ravaged by war as did the people. They absently walked around in a daze as he had seen in Kirkwall following the Chantry's explosion. Debris littered the ground, and his war horse grunted at having to step around heaps of it that no one bothered to clear from the road through the town. Watching the procession pass, the frozen citizens stood, speaking praise for their salvation.
On the outskirts was a haunting red glow rising from the earth. It distorted the horizon with a mirage effect, accompanied by a maddening hum the close one got to it. His head ached at the vibrations while his mouth ran dry - this would be a true test of his will and fortitude against lyrium.
"Commander, over here!" Scout Harding called and waved him over. He was shocked to see her and her scouts looking so slovenly. Yet, he supposed by everything he saw already he shouldn't be surprised. "Apologies, ser, that no one was here to greet you, but…" she turned with a cringe at hearing the fighting getting closer, "we have a situation."
"Report," he barked eager to find Evelyn. He hopped off his horse so the poor woman didn't strain her neck. Her red hair was torn messily out of her braids and bun by the harsh wind. Smudges of dirt stood out against her freckled skin, matching the other faces that flanked her.
"The Inquisitor sent word that she wanted us to set up an ambush for incoming hostiles. They swarmed their advanced position, overrunning them about an hour ago. They are leading them here as we speak. As you can see," she gestured with a hand to the dozen battle-weary scouts, "we won't have quite the impact as your men would."
"What happened to Captain Reid's men?"
Harding's green eyes betrayed the depth of their predicament as her posture slumped, "Captain Reid and his men tried to hold the forward camp… all were lost except for a few men. This is all that remains of us, with the exception of the Inquisitor's team. It was decided that her party pose as bait and hold them back from taking the town. We've blocked every trail here, forcing them to trek around the mountain and across the frozen river. They've kept them at bay for almost a week and a half. How they're managing to stay on their feet holding the line, I'm at a loss to explain aside from divine intervention. I suppose though I shouldn't be surprised, we are talking about the Inquisitor, after all."
"Get yourselves some rest and await instructions here." Missing her usual optimistic sarcasm, Harding saluted and signaled to the others to retreat. Turning to his men he relayed his plan, "Foster, we won't be setting up an ambush, but I want this place fortified the best you can. Join with what's left of Reid's force and find out what to expect from the enemy from Scout Harding. Dane, The Chargers, and I will lead the men to intercept the Inquisitor and her team, then we'll re-establish the forward camp. I'll send word once we've secured the position."
In the distance, he could hear Evelyn's distinct voice shouting back and forth with the others. Its sound gave him a fluttering jolt mixed with an impatient need to find her. With that, he pulled his weapons and donned his lion helm, for she needed him and he would not waste another second. His officers dismounted along with him spurring their horses with a smack towards the camp, for no one would be sidelined from this fight. They were facing augmented Templars. If their professional combat training and special skills weren't enough of a challenge, now the enemy was enhanced by red lyrium. They had fought them at Haven, but it was only a taste as they were spread out with the Venatori army. This force, however, was comprised entirely of corrupted Knights.
As he marched to the front of the column, he began reciting his orders, "Listen up! Out there, the Inquisitor is facing a large force of Red Templars. Our task is to rendezvous with her team and relieve them of the fight. Samson's creatures are incredibly strong, so do not seek to overpower them. Use speed and opportunity to strike at them, and work together! They cannot be taken down by one soldier alone. Stay by your officers and they will see you through whatever is up and over that hill." There were resolute nods but even more nervous ones. He knew they were thinking of the beating that awaited them from the brutes. He couldn't blame them, as he tightened his grip on his shield, hoping his healed fractured arm wouldn't splinter on the first hit. "Steady men, your Inquisitor needs you. She has been fighting them for weeks, are you going to let her do it alone?" There was a resounding 'no' that seemed to harden some of their faces. "Nor I! Maker watch over us, let's move!"