Chapter Text
I woke up with an exquisite head- and abdominal ache. If I hadn't known myself to be clean for ten years, I would have blamed a hangover. Unfortunately I knew better and had a vivid recollection of what went on last night.
There was a flash of green and I curled up into a ball. Hadn't my hands been clasped in rather heavy irons, I would have brought them to my chest.
“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now.”
“And good morning to you too, Cassandra,” I groaned.
It was not fair. It was really not fair, after everything I had done to... to avoid exactly this. Unfair on all accords.
Apparently it was either not morning or Seeker Pentaghast has misplaced her sense of humour in her other scabbard, because she dragged mu up to stand. She probably regretted it soon afterwards, because I leaned all my weight on her, as my knees were threatening to give out. On my part it wasn't as much of a necessity, I knew that once I was awake I'd be able to ignore the pain fairly quickly – well it would be ignored for me, really, I had a somewhat comfortable living arrangement in my body – just like the horrible cold. But Cassandra pulled me up by my hair and I did not like that, so I decided to be inconvenient right back, as it was just.
“Explain this,” she took my left hand and shoved it practically in my face just as another flash of green went through it. It highlighted veins and bones and hurt like a dragon stampede. Same for my stomach and upper thighs, but those were clothed, so except me nobody noticed.
I took a shaky breath: “Alright. Short version or long version?”
“We do not have the time,” said Leliana from the door. “The short version will do... for now. But if you leave out anything important...” There was a small twitch of her head which I did not miss only because I knew to look for it. It was in that moment when I realised that I did not have my glasses, because the Left Hand of the Divine was extremely blurry.
“It's a magic mark that I did not want and still don't want which can close rifts to the Fade if provide with enough power. Would it kill you to throw a rug under me?” I added and shifted weight to my left foot, resting my right one on top of it. “The floor is freezing and I don't even have socks.”
One of the four men with very large swords whom all Cassandra, Leliana and I were excellent at ignoring made a poking motion with the aforementioned large sword, probably meant to indicate that while the rug posed no danger to anyone, the request could easily kill me.
“The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you,” Leliana stole Cassandra's lines.
“I didn't do it.”
Cassandra and Leliana exchanged silent frowns. They didn't believe me. I couldn't blame them, I wouldn't have believed myself too. Especially myself. I had a reputation and they had Varric. I didn't count on Varric covering for me.
“Look, you can pin on a blown up church and hundreds of dead later, preferably after you yell at me a lot and make me close the Breach,” I flashed them a smile. Then I winced. While I did not really feel the pain per se, I was aware of it. “Honestly, if I don't stop the Breach from growing at the very least, I am probably not going to live for my own execution, that would be a bummer.”
Leliana stood in front of me, arms crossed, and stared me down: “Can you tell us what happened?” There wasn't a hint of recognition in her face, none whatsoever. I hoped she was just that good actor, though ten years is ten years, mortal memory is fallible, and I was often described as rather nondescript, obviously half-elf. I was neither of those.
“If I did, would you believe me?”
Cassandra nodded towards her companion: “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” There, my answer. A lot of words to say “no” but that was Cassandra for me.
While she was getting my hands out of the manacles and binding them together again with hemp rope, Leliana left. Then Cassandra lead me outside where the bright sunlight reflecting on snow rendered me blind for precious seconds. In the meantime a gust of wind got through my clothes and bit into me. I was able to ignore it, because I had to, but it was not pleasant.
Note to self: Never go anywhere in a plain shirt and short linen breeches. If you have to, wear shoes at least. I already missed my raiments, and when I had taken them off I really hoped I'd never see them again. Served me right.
My eyesight cleared somewhat. The Breach in the sky was big and green and that was pretty much all I could say about it, because I could not squint more. Maybe except: “I thought it'd be bigger.”
One of the guards at the door snickered: “Yeah, I told him just that the last night.”
I expected Cassandra to kick him in the shin or at least give him a glare, but apparently he was so below her that she did not bother. Instead she said: “It grows with each passing hour.”
“Along with the Anchor,” I sighed. “And when it gets big enough I'm a hole-in-reality shaped toast.”
“If given enough time it might grow until it swallows the world.”
“Lovely. Lead the way.”
She lead me through the people who were on their best way to start throwing rocks at me but found them frozen to the ground. They might have opted for snowballs, but the snow was too cold to stick together. I knew, I stepped in it. The stinging was not pleasant. When we passed through the gate, Cassandra cut the ropework around my wrist with a knife. What a waste of hemp just for the small parade for the people. She had a small demotivating monologue which I ignored until she informed me that she could promise me no more than a trial.
I took a precious moment to ignore another green flash and rubbed some feeling into my frozen feet and hurting wrists. Note to self number two: Never engage in bondage with Cassandra. Not without an extensive tutorial first.
“Come, it is not far.”
I didn't tell her that I knew. Just to make conversation I asked: “Are we headed to the forward camp first, or straight to the Temple of the Sacred Ashes?”
“The camp. We need armed men to get to the Temple. The whole place crawls with demons. And your Mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”
“And per chance you do not deem it wise to give me a weapon in case some of those demons jump us? Because the chance of us getting anywhere without getting tackled by something malevolent from the fade is zero, maybe a bit lower.”
“No. But if you do not cease your pointless quipping, I will deem wise cutting your tongue out. You need only the mark.”
“It has a name, it's the Anchor.”
We proceeded through the gate and up the hill around remnants of makeshift barricades which still burned despite being nothing more than ashes now. Rage demon or maybe two had passed through here. I ignored the painful pulsing in my arm as well as I could, but the twitching of my figners had to give it away, because Cassandra looked at me with unveiled concern.
I asked her: “How long was I out?”
“A day.” That surprised me. Shouldn't the Inquisitor-to-be take longer? Then again I had special dispositions when Fade-shit was regarded.
“Could have been worse. What happened to me exactly?”
“You mean... you do not know?”
I paused in front of a bridge we were about to cross. It would very likely collapse and we'd get jumped by demons and I would feign surprise, not much time for talking after that. So I gave a sour smile and said: “Seeker Pentaghast, I was in the Fade. What I saw and what I remember about it can't be trusted. I myself take it with a whole bag of salt.”
“They say you... stepped out of a rift, a divine glow surrounding you. Then you fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”
“Faith, I believe.”
“Pardon?”
I shook my head. “Nevermind. Is that... all to it?”
“Well...” Cassandra scratched the back of her head.
“I vividly remember shouting followed by pain in my throat, so I think that did, in fact, happen.”
Cassanda now looked slightly embarrassed: “The Templars who witnessed your arrival say you exclaimed ‘I am going to strangle that narcoleptic egghead with his own spleen.’ We are not sure what to make out of that.” She stretched her arms and walked past me on the bridge since I wasn't moving.
I followed: “It means he better watch out.”
This particular bridge did not crash to desktop. It only crashed. Cassandra took a few bumps and hits across the stones which her armour turned from shattered bones into light bruises. I landed far more gracefully on all four, arse sticking up in the air and blouse falling over my eyes, but that was because I was expecting this.
Meteorites don't land with green fire. A shade. A reflection of a volatile form. Not even Justice – and therefore I – was sure what exactly shades were except for after our throats. It never mattered anyway.
“Stay behind me!” Cassandra instructed and charged. Had she looked around she would have noticed the other shade under the cracked ice. It burst out right under my feet. I rolled away with grace and curses “A little help over here?” I demanded, but in vain.
The shade swept its claws at me and in turn I kicked him in the not-really-face. It did a satisfying crack and my foot was numb enough not to feel the extremely uncomfortable texture. With a jump I was out of its reach and searching for a weapon that would not require such a close proximity. I still needed those legs, you know?
Focus, weapon. There should be a weapon somewhere. Broken crate, yes. Now for playability purpose it was a weapon the Inquisitior could fight with. Here the scythe met the rock, though, because I was, well, let's be generous and say “unique”. A lost case fuck-up. That also worked, yeah, but it wasn't my go-to phrase.
It grabbed the thing the moment I saw it and pulled it out of the bridge-turned-gravel. A staff. I was no mage and therefore in my hands it was nothing more than a long piece of wood with a heavy iron head. But when I swung it at the shade it proved to be more than enough. Besides I was used to unconventional polearms, the only difference was that instead of slash this one went smash. The moment I was armed the shade never really stood a chance on its own.
Cassandra seemed to be doing fine on her own, fine enough to get rid of her own shade and turn her attention to me right in the moment I turned my opponent into a bloody pulp. It exploded into smoke and was gone.
“Drop your weapon. Now!” Cassandra commanded, her sword pointing at me now.
I made a display of throwing the staff away and into the snow. “You remember how I specifically asked for a weapon in case exactly this would happen?” I strode forward, ice making strange sounds under my shade-blood covered feet. By all means my toes should have fallen off in the frost by now. But I needed the body, so it would work.
Cassandra caught up with me after a moment, shoving the discarded staff back into my hands. “You're right. I cannot protect you. I should remember that you agreed to come willingly.”
The staff was a great support as a walking stick, so I took it gladly. That, and it was a good bludgeoning weapon. “Well, it was that or getting yelled at and possibly beaten and dragged out into the cold anyway. I like to think of myself as reasonable person. Besides the son of a bitch made it personal.” I did not point out that I hadn't agreed to anything.
“You mean the, uh, Egghead?”
I paused to think about it. “Him too.”
With a heavy sigh she unbuckled a belt from around her waist which held four flasks and empty loops for more potions. The glass and metal were hoarfrost-covered. “Take these potions,” Cassandra handed it to me. “Maker knows what we will face.” She paused as I was securing the belt around my hips, the buckle too cold to touch it comfortably. “Though, I suppose it will be demons.”
“It could be worse. It could be a metaphor for our insecurities.”
We proceeded up the hill and I resisted the urge to loot fallen bodies for anything useful, such as money or shoes. Though when we came upon a frozen elfroot, I tore of a leaf and shoved it straight into my mouth. “Don't look at me like that. I haven't had breakfast,” I addressed Cassandra's judgemental look. While true, I took the elfroot for its immunity-boosting properties. Out in the cold nearly naked for so long I was practically begging the universe to catch if not death then at least a bad cold.
We met a few more shades of which we made a quick work. If Cassandra noticed the flashes of blue light shimmering under my skin, she did not comment. Or not directly, at least, but when we were climbing up yet another stairs she noted: “I must admit that I have never seen a mage utilising their powers in combat like you do. Your focus on the physical approach is very peculiar.”
Instead of telling her that I was not a mage, because that would take too much explaining in the moment, I shrugged: “Tevinter training, I am afraid.” A headache was nagging at me.
“You are from Tevinter? I thought... I considered you a fellow Nevarran.”
“Many people do think that. I have lived in Tevinter for a couple of years, though. Picked up a few things here and there, like smashing your non-existent kneecaps to bonemeal you ugly rattler!” The last bit was not directed at Cassandra but at a wraith which leaped at us from behind a boulder. The boulder had reliefs of people upside down in it.
An arrow swished past my head. Correction: a bolt, not an arrow, sent by the one and only Varric Tethras. I hoped he simply fired at something besides me and simply did not miss me. And then there was a rift, of course, a small one. Calling it a rift would do an injustice to other rifts, this was merely a crack. Sitll, to close it we would need to focus and that was hardly to happen with shades and wraiths trying to tear our heads off.
Speaking of shades, the one next to me, supposedly the one Varric shot at, froze in place. With a little help I smashed it to pieces with the iron head of my staff, like an ugly vase.
“Quickly,” Solas shouted, “before more come through!” Already he was too close to me for my personal comfort. I was not going to be manhandled by... by Solas of all people, so I reached out my hand to the rift on my own.
A little help?
You go... like this.
Imagine a musical instrument and an echo chamber which replies only when you are tuned right. The instrument is the Anchor, but if that is a too abstract concept, imagine a trumpet instead. Once the tune is right, you can shout a command into the echo chamber and it will come out stronger and modify itself accordingly.
Shut it.
The rift shut it. Where by “it” I meant “itself”.
I was dimly aware of three people staring at me somewhat flabbergasted. After a few disbelieving blinks, Solas managed to say: “Did you just flip the bird at the rift to close it?”
“What? Did it work or not?”