Chapter Text
The camp was situated on a bridge, and Cirridwen had to wonder just how wise that was, considering the last bridge she'd been on. But then, there wasn't really any way of predicting how the debris from the sky would fall. Soldiers huddled about a fire built on the stones, and Cirridwen looked over their faces as the party passed. These were tired men and women, running on fear and resignation. After all, what good was a blade or bow against the world apparently deciding to up and end. A Chantry brother was praying over stiff bodies laid out along the other side of the bridge and Cirridwen desperately hoped that somebody had warded the corpses against possession, since demons seemed to be a copper a bushel. Meanwhile, a fierce argument was roiling closer to the bridge's other end.
“We will do no such thing!”
“The prisoner must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, it is our only chance!”
Cirridwen's face smoothed into an impassive mask, as they drew closer to the irate man speaking to Leiliana over a table. It contained a map and precious little else to keep his attention from lifting to glare at Cirridwen. As Leiliana stepped forwards to make introductions he curtly interrupted.
“I know who she is.” he sneered, drawing up to his full height while Cirridwen eyed him coolly. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.” Chancellor Roderick declared with smug triumph. It faintly amused her. He clearly had no idea just who he was threatening with the headman's axe. If her time roaming the Marches had not reached his ears...
“Order me?” Cassandra sounded utterly incredulous, followed by sharp anger. “You are a glorified clerk, a bureaucrat!”
“And you are a thug, a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry,” the Chancellor shot back while Cirridwen looked down at the map on the table. It showed the surrounding area, the valley, the bridge they stood on along with the temple and various accesses to it.
“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know,” Leiliana smoothly interjected, since it was starting to sound like Cassandra might just chuck Roderick over the bridge's side.
“Justinia is dead! We must elect a new Divine, and obey her orders on the matter!” Roderick dismissed, throwing his hands up in the area with a look of unbridled disgust on his face. Cassandra's face was wrinkling up into a matching expression while Leiliana's nostrils flared. Cirridwen took one slow blink to gather herself before standing upright, thumping her shepherd's crook once on the ground to gain their attention. Her attendants fluttered and then settled on the curve of the staff.
“Everyone of authority has died, and there is nobody to give orders. None of you are in charge.” She summed up. Roderick's mouth thinned in displeasure before he ignored her, turning to Cassandra.
“Call a retreat, Seeker, our position here is hopeless.”
Having had a gutsfull of their bickering, -Stay and listen to them, please.- Cirridwen turned to move to the priest who had been seeing to the dead. One little wisp of a spirit drifted to the table and sat there, absorbing the conversation while the rest followed her.
“Brother,” she said softly as she approached him, and he turned to her with a mournful look under his ragged moustache. “Have the dead been warded?”
His voice was equally soft as he glanced for listening soldiers, but those who still had the spirit for listening in were engrossed with the rising argument between the Divine's followers and paid the shabby looking woman and the brother no mind. “We are lacking in those with the ability,” he murmured, and Cirridwen nodded her understanding. His eyes tracked her attendants and she murmured to one of them.
“Ask Solas to come here, please.” It bounced once and darted off while the brother stared after it. His eyes returned to her when she spoke. “They are well trained, they are no risk to you,” she assured him. “My companion might be able to help me ward your departed, to keep both them and us safe until we can see to them properly.” His shoulders were sagging in relief as if a cord were cut when Solas arrived, soft footed.
“May I be of assistance?” he inquired, and Cirridwen shared their concerns with him. Agreeing with her, they both set to work and had just finished warding the dead when with a rumbling sound like thunder the Breach pulsed and expanded once more. Cirridwen sucked a whistling breath through her teeth as she clutched ineffectually at her wrist in an attempt to keep it from spreading as her injured knee buckled and her spirits caught her, propping her upright and humming in concern as she felt like her hand was trying to unmake itself.
The brother hovered in concern, unsure if he should try to aid her or get as far away as possible, his moustache bristling in alarm while Solas put a supporting hand under her elbow. The pain faded and she straightened to find Cassandra bearing down on her.
“You must chose. We can either go through the valley or take a mountain route to the temple.” she said without preamble, and Cirridwen raised an eyebrow at her while beckoning to the wisp she'd left on the table. It flew to her fingertips, skipping up her arm to sink into her shoulder, sharing the conversation she'd missed even as Cirridwen played for time.
“Oh, now you have a mind for my opinion?”
“You bear the key to solving this,” Cassandra said before shaking her head. “And you are the one we must keep alive. Since we cannot decide on our own...”
“The mountain path,” Cirridwen said, and Cassandra's mouth twitched. “I am a liability on the field. If the soldiers stick close and concentrate on watching each other's backs as they push forward, they will do better.”
Cassandra nodded tightly while Leiliana spoke up. “Work together. You all know what's at stake.”
“Leiliana, bring everyone left in the valley. Everyone.” the Seeker commanded while Cirridwen prepared herself for the trek ahead. As their band passed the table and maps, Chancellor Roderick's voice seemed to taunt them.
“On your head be the consequences, Seeker” he snarled as they marched past. Watching Cassandra's straight back and high head, Cirridwen thought on the other woman's scars. That was somebody who'd always known the consequences of what she did were hers alone.