Chapter Text
The next morning they woke up to faint mists, and a bright fire.
Cirridwen sat on her cot kneading healing into her knee, waiting for the elfroot potion sip to kick in. Wisps twisted her braid up and pushed pins in, and Cirridwen pulled her coif back on, tying the cords neatly at the nape. A slow deep breath as she drew her composure around her, before standing. She leant on her staff, ducking out past the flap into the circle of fire. Porridge had been made and was offered to her after she sat at the map table which had been brought out again.
Pouring over it, she made plans.
“We'll cover the King's Road as far as the Crossroads. You say this was given to the Inquisition?” She asked of the scout by her. They seemed to be made of sterner stuff than Scout Farnham, and managed to stoically ignore Cirridwen's attendants.
“Yes, ma'am. The Templar who received it actually turned himself into the Inquisition, along with the two mages he was with.”
“Two mages?” Cirridwen asked, eyes sharp and tone even.
“Aye. Woman of about the same age as him, I'd say late 30's, and an apprentice. I'm not sure when it comes to children, but I'd guess he was about eleven or so. Seemed real fond of each other. Do mages and Templars ever have families?” The scout asked. “Because if they do, I'd peg them as a family, for all the child looks nothing like either of them.”
“No. Mages are forbidden from relationships, and Templars require permission to marry,” Cirridwen said. “That doesn't stop people from assembling family units within the Circle though, if they're careful.”
The scout shook her head. “At any rate, we scouted the area, and it's legitimate. Massive Templar encampment. Scout Harrod tried to address them. Lucky he was on the other side of the river with a shield though. They tried to skewer him, and it was the bridge being destroyed that saved him from being run down.”
“And Fort Connor?” Cirridwen tapped the position on the map.
“Complete mess, ma'am. You could hold the lower reaches if you really tried, but the outer walls are a disaster, and I think the remains of the second story floor might still be on fire. We've seen some wagons too. The sort you use for moving livestock. Or people who don't want to be moved.” The scout's mouth compressed into a thin line for a moment before continuing. “The Inquisition is holding the tunnel through from there to the Crossroads though. So if we can catch them up against there, we should be able to break them.”
“Tell me more about the Templar camp,” Cirridwen said.
“Runs alongside the river. Good clean water for them. Follows along the rock ledge along the side. Rock overhangs with the cliffs. Backs into a waterfall. Only one way in and out, but it's really hard to assail. We can't do much from above, the cliff sides get in the way. We can't get in over the waterfall. It's front door or nothing. Local scouts say there's a cave right up the back there, not much of interest, apart from the Templars in there.” Cirridwen blinked at a sudden whiff of bitterness off the scout.
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“They took someone from you.” Cirridwen said. The scout glanced across at her, then away. Tension in the shoulders. Then a subtle drop.
“My brother. Asked them where they were taking him. Broke my nose for it. We moved after. Mum couldn't cope with the talk.”
“What was his name?” Cirridwen asked.
“...Talwyn.” She said.
“I'll remember the name. If I hear anything, I'll tell you,” Cirridwen promised.
They clutched together in a hollow formed by a massive boulder leaning against the hillside, eyeing the broken bridge across the rocky base of the river. Cirridwen frowned at the mess.
“We need to make sure Upper Lake Camp doesn't remain there come spring.”
“How come?” Varric asked, squinting across the river at where occasional flashes of sunlight caught on Templar armour.
“The shallow pool up there? It feeds into the waterfall further up river. See how the river bed is all tumbled boulders and large uprooted trees?” she asked. Varric hummed.
“The current strength of the river wouldn't result in this kind of bed or that kind of canyon. It's seasonal.” Solas supplied. “Right now, the bridge is useful for crossing the stones easily. With the spring rains and thaw from further up in the Frostbacks...”
“It would flood.” Cassandra said, eyebrows raising. “That's why the bridge goes so high and far.”
“Huh. Makes sense.” Varric said. “If I need to describe rivers in my next book, I'll keep it in mind.”
“Either way, I'm not riding Bun across that,” Cirridwen stated.
“Can you get across it?” Varric snarked.
“If you can manage.” Cirridwen responded.
“Ooh, feisty. Maybe if we're lucky the Lady Seeker will show off her strength and carry us.”
Cassandra made a sound of disgust, and Cirridwen had the feeling that if she were not possessed of an inordinate amount of patience she might have chucked him in the river.
“Still a sensible question.” Cirridwen allowed. “I don't want to be stuck on mid fording when they realise we're here.”
“I can bring rocks up to complete the bridge to get us across.” Solas offered.
“Good. Cassandra, what would you say the average range of a Smite is?” Cirridwen asked, mind working busily.
“Fifteen to seventeen feet,” Cassandra estimated. “Beyond that the power of the Smite becomes unreliable. Your spells?”
“If I can see it clearly, I can hit it.” Cirridwen said. “If I can hit it accurately depends on whether I'm using projectiles. Varric?”
“More or less the same, Bright-Eyes.” Varric confirmed. “Chuckles?”
There was a beat and then Solas squinted at the dwarf suspiciously. Varric just smiled sunnily at him. He sighed.
“Yes, I can hit that.”
“You'll be on your own a lot,” Cirridwen advised Cassandra. “I'll probably be able to heal you, but don't rely on a barrier or shield from us.”
“I try not to.” Cassandra said. “Their archers will be a threat to you.”
“Barrier should hold against them. If we draw them towards us, you'll either be in danger of being surrounded, or you'll have to twiddle your thumbs by us until the Templar guardsmen close.”
“If we hit them from the side,” Cassandra gestured to further down stream where the flood-time rapids began to peter out, “we may be able to defeat many of them before they are aware of our presence.”
“It will also be easier for the Herald to ford.” Solas noted.
“Right then. Across the river beyond that copse, come along the bank, try to hit that camp quickly and quietly enough that they don't realise they've lost that section until we have them bottled in the ravine.” Cirridwen decided.
They slipped down through a passage way under the large rock face they had sheltered behind, leaving Bun in the lee of it with Duty to mind her and fording the ankle deep water on foot. Cassandra and Solas didn't seem to notice, while Cirridwen and Varric both made faces at their wet socks. As they sidled around the rock face, Cirridwen chose her targets.
Unprepared for the initial salvo, most of their heavy plate wearers dropped in the first hits, Varric picking off the archers. It didn't take Cassandra long to mop up the remainders.
The problems didn't start until the main encampment realised they were under attack.
Cirridwen barely managed to get the shield up to catch arrows, trying to find where the archers were.
“Here,” Varric hauled up a shield from an unlucky Templar and handed it to her. “Mind your head!”
The thought was appreciated, but the result was unwieldy. With one hand holding up the shield and another propping her up on the staff, Cirridwen had to trust to Cassandra holding the front. The narrow passes of the gorge did force the Templars to come at her in twos and threes, but that didn't stop the archers. Varric was after them like a hawk on pigeons, constantly moving about. It seemed that Templar archers didn't get much practise on moving targets. Solas had meanwhile thrown up a barrier around himself and Cassandra and was casting elegant spells that hit like avalanches, his movements neat and precise.
“Feel free to surrender at any time,” Cirridwen called. The response was a heavy Smite that made her glad she had dismissed her attendants and made Solas' spells sputter. He switched to bashing with his staff, still skilled though it appeared he wasn't quite as practised at manual combat. That was proved when a sword hit and slid on the haft and he barely managed to change his grip in time to avoid severed fingers. He stumbled back a few steps to regain his footing when the pommel of Cassandra's sword swung back and dented the helm as she raised her shield to deflect an arrow headed for her eye.
Word from the Templars further up. Shouting. Cirridwen squinted between the bodies at where the rocks formed a natural bulwark. Reinforcements would come through there.
Breath in. Examine the world. Reality as it was perceived. Exhale the breath. Will to bear.
Ice flung up and solidified, blocking the way and leaving them with a trapped posse of three Templar guards, Varric managing to single handedly hold the archers back from view atop the rocks.
Cassandra lunged forwards, coming in low and drawing the Templars to block her. A summoned boulder flew over her head, catching him full across the face and probably dislocating the shield arm of the woman next to him as the force spun her with a scream. Cassandra struck from behind quickly and turned to the remaining Templar who stared at her in shock, ice protruding from his chest.
An invigorating wash over Cassandra and Solas, and the two of them straightened. “Ready for the next?” Cirridwen asked as she cautiously drew level with them.
They drew further forward, finally cutting down the last of the Templar encampment. Cirridwen looked over their supplies. Sacks of potato and neep, large wheels of cheese only begun to be cut into. Barrels, that sloshed when she nudged them or opened to reveal smoked or salted meat and fish.
“The Templars do not appear to be wanting for food,” Solas commented while Cassandra looked over the weapons tables and training dummy, things she had more of an eye for than victuals.
“Reckon they brought it with them or stole it?” Varric asked.
“I’d say stole it,” Cirridwen said. “These are neeps, and some still have the tops on. That’s from nearby, nobody ships whole neeps. The leaves are eaten or fed to animals and the roots stored. This would have been someone’s winter feed.”
“Think the Crossroads would appreciate it?” Varric asked, smile knowing.
“Absolutely. Cover that cheese back up,” Cirridwen said, beckoning her fingers. A few wisps alighted on them to take her message, before vanishing back down the canyon.
“Where’d you send them, to Vale or the camp back the way we came?” Varric asked.
“Corporal Vale.” Cirridwen as Cassandra came back from inspecting the Templar weapon stash.
“Good idea. If we break through to the other side of the Crossroads and clear the King’s Road by doing so, then they can collect what is here to use for the refugees and the Inquisition.” Cassandra approved.
“Well we’d best get on it. They can see to the bodies while they’re at it,” Cirridwen decided and they made their way back to the main road and turned East to Fort Connor.
A little twitchy, Varric fussed with Bianca and Cirridwen had an odd expression on her face, as if staring at a chess board. Solas seemed disinclined to speak.
Cassandra cast about for something to say. When she had travelled with other Seekers and Templars, it was relatively easy. Ask about their weaponry or technique, where they had trained. Share tips. But none of her current companions were blade users, and while she was used to silence when travelling alone, the silence in company was uncomfortable for her.
She needed to try. But she knew very little of The Hera- Lady Trevelyan, and even less about the apostate, Solas. She could try with the dwarf.
“Have you heard from any of your Kirkwall associates, Varric?” she asked, and mentally congratulated herself for remembering to use his name instead of a descriptor. Names worked better for establishing good working relationships.
“You’re asking me?” Varric said, sounding the exact kind of ‘wilfully surprised’ that irked her so much about him. “So you don’t read my letters?”
It figured that Varric would decide to be difficult about this. She should have tried asking Lady Trevelyan about her home city. Then she remembered that she had been in a Circle and would likely know about as much about it as Cassandra would know about Nevarra.
“You’re no longer my prisoner, much as you like to act like it,” she tried again while reminding him that she wasn’t actually a gaoler nor an enemy, thank you very much.
“Yet I still get all the suspicion,” Varric pointed out. Alright, she was suspicious of him still, but there was nothing to act on or for. After all, he wasn’t holding any information out on her, he didn’t know where Hawke was, and the Divine was dead so she didn’t have anyone she needed him to talk to. This constantly thinking the worst of her was a bit unfair though.
“I am not without sympathy, especially given recent events,” she said, trying to show some compassion.
“Why, Seeker, I would never accuse you of having sympathy!” …. Perhaps Varric was the one without any bloody compassion. She was making an effort here! “By the way, I tend to refer to my “associates” as “friends”. Maybe you’re not familiar with the concept.”
Duly noted. Next time she’d ask if he’d heard from his friends, if she bothered asking him again.
Di-Dwarf
She was almost relieved when they hit the destroyed homes around Fort Connor on the western side of the Crossroads tunnel.