Chapter Text
Oh but she ACHED. Cirridwen leaned on her staff heavily for a moment, taking the opportunity to duck out of sight into another hallway to lean against the wall, taking pressure off her braced knee and letting the cramp in her arm from holding so tightly to her staff ease.
It was bad enough being part of a mage delegate at the Conclave, representing those mages who had thrown off their chains and promptly gone into hiding, dragging every fellow mage they could find to safety with them. Beating Templars from their doors, harrying Tevinter slavers who harried their stragglers in turn, trying to keep those who could hardly cast a spark or close a papercut from being strung up by mobs. And now her shattered knee and carved side complained bitterly at the strength it took to keep her facade of calm collection and grace up against the sheer animosity she faced. She'd left Carth to look after their lot, hopefully keeping them in check and out of trouble while she tried to find the Divine to try and get a brief word in. See where Justinia's own sympathies lay. The Free Marcher straightened again, promising herself she could rest once she'd found the Divine, maybe seat them both in deference to the other woman's advanced age.
“Help me!” Cirridwen's head jerked up, a tightly wound instinct to respond to alarms driving her to move at a loping approximation of a run down the hallway. This was not the place to let trouble go, when everyone was already on the edge of further war. She grappled with the door handle, finding it locked.
“Hold the sacrifice still!” ordered a rasping dreadful voice, and Cirridwen had heard enough. She stepped back , setting her weight on her good leg, and threw her left hand out at the door while gripping hard with her right at her staff. The heavy wood with sunburst insignia flew open and bounced off the walls, the locking mechanism flying across the room. Darting in, Cirridwen took in the tableau in a moment, golden eyes flicking everywhere.
The Divine. Pinned and held aloft like an escaped slave. An orb lit with Fade light. And her assailants... She did not hesitate. She never really had. A Fade Step across the room as she aimed to dislodge their foci, knowing a thing or two about disrupting rituals. Bring down the foci and it would fizzle ou-
As her palm connected with the orb, she realised she'd made a critical mistake in her urge to act, pain lancing up her arm and right through her very soul, her already clenched teeth grinding on a scream before everything was awash in violent green.
She kept her gaze fixed on a midpoint, staring into space as if she were Tranquil. She didn't think of the ache in her knee, except to note the press of her brace on it. If required, she could still stand. She inhaled deeply, felt the comforting press of her supportive vest. She at least was sitting straight. Cirridwen did not think of the heavy metal around her wrists. Even the occasional flares of agony from her hand was only clinically noted. The constant whispers of the Fade around her were the only things in sharp focus. Somebody was coming to her. Somebody new. Somebody angry. Then the door to her cell swung open, two women entering. One walked with the purposeful stride of a warrior, the other with a light and elegant step not misplaced at court.
She would need to be present for this. Cirridwen blinked, and then eerie gold eyes fixated on the one she presumed to be her chief captor at this point. The woman leaned close to her, while the other hung back. Cirridwen remained unmoved, eyes tracking the one in the hood.
“Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now?” she demanded. Nevarran, Cirridwen noted. Scars on her face meant that the swagger and the sword were not for show. "The Conclave is destroyed, and everyone who attended dead. The only survivor, is you.”
Accusation, grief. People who mattered dearly to her were dead. Everyone... Cirridwen's eyes came alight as they shot to Cassandra, animating her previously empty face.
“Everyone? Dead? How?” She asked, horror curling deep in her gut. She'd felt the screeching pain more clearly than the hands hauling her through snow and over ice, where she didn't know. But she did not think that it was from... her group, her colleagues, the few students they'd brought with them. The woman ignored her words, iron hand grasping her arm. Her grip was strong, grinding bone as she held Cirridwen's hand up to her face. Her glowing green hand that sparked softly, save for the way that pain lanced through her. She wished the Nevarran hadn't brought it to her attention as she suddenly became aware of it. It stank of the Fade and made her skin crawl as she flicked her eyes up to meet a steely gaze.
"Explain this."
“I can not. I do not understand this... thing myself.”
“What do you mean you can't?” demanded the other woman, her voice breaking a little as she paced in circles around her, the other woman who had slipped her attention joining the circling like carrion crows.
“I don't know what this is. I don't know how it got there.” She'd be fine, if she didn't think too much about where 'there' was.
“You're lying!” the warrior thundered, hands landing hard on Cirridwen's shoulders before the redhead intervened.
“We need her Cassandra.” she interjected, guiding the other woman off her. That the brunette allowed it even when so obviously distressed and aggressive spoke to Cirridwen of long acquaintance, a certain level of trust. They were friends, or at the least worked closely together. An image of a scowling face lighting in comprehension crossed her mind, and she looked up.
“Everyone? Everyone who was at the Conclave, Divine, clerics, down to the last servant's child? Dead?” she tried to wrap her head around it. Around the idea of some sort of... Annulment that she was being held responsible for by surviving. She carefully packed that thought away. She could not falter now.
“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” asked the calmer one. Cirridwen looked up at her, and winced. Loose thoughts, sideways, slipping and rearranging all the time. This one was far more dangerous than Cassandra.
“I remember running. Things were chasing me... with too many legs. And... a figure.” Cirridwen stared at the sunburst carved into the floor, thinking hard. Racking her memory. Chantry hat, vaguely female form... “a woman. I tried to reach her, and she was reaching back to me.”
“A woman?” the redhead echoed, folding her arms and jerking her chin in slightly. Interest, coiling rising, hope, a recognition. Cassandra must have known the woman well, for a moment later she was guiding her away from Cirridwen.
“Go to the forward camp, Leiliana. I will take her to the rift.” The other woman fixed her a long stare as she left, and Cirridwen finally placed her accent. Orlesian, with a Fereldan influence.
Cassandra returned to her as Cirridwen’s guard sheathed their swords. Kneeling, she removed the manacles and bound Cirridwen’s wrists. She allowed it. -Let them see you helpless. They will relax-. She paused when it came to standing, wondering how she’d make it to her feet. Cassandra solved that problem by aiding her to stand and Cirridwen took a moment to hiss through her teeth at the pins and needles of restored circulation.
“ What has happened?” Cirridwen asked, feeling the accusing stares of the guards boring into her.
“ It would be easier to show you,” she said briskly, guiding the mage outside. Cirridwen took cautious steps after her, squinting in the bright light as she expanded her awareness. Souls, bright spots, lots of them. The overwhelming tang of fear and unease. The caress of the Veil. Or what should have been a caress. It felt thin, cobwebby and catching at her skin rather than the usual soft slide. And then she looked up at the sky. It was circular, large, green, swirling, and had rocks the size of inns floating in it.
“What is that?” she asked, inflection utterly flat as her eyebrow raised to meet her hairline.
“That is the Breach. It is a massive rift into the world of demons, and it grows larger with every passing hour,” her guide told her grimly. Cirridwen’s mind raced. No wonder the Veil was thin, if a hole that large had been punched into it. She couldn’t believe it, not logically, but there it was. Voices caressed and hissed around her, clamouring for her attention. -I see it. Sit tight. I see it.- But how? How did something like that happen? “It is not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.” Cirridwen narrowed her eyes at the Breach, slowly catching up with Cassandra.
“Explosions don’t cause that kind of damage.” The warrior turned to face her.
“This one did. Unless we act, this Breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Cirridwen’s gaze dropped to Cassandra’s, eyes wide at the implications.
“What? If that grows entirely, removing the Veil,” the things that danced about the edges of her dreams, the beings that pressed in on her conscience at every turn. Walking free, amongst people unarmed against them, unwary and vulnerable... her rumination was interrupted when with another resounding boom the veil expanded yet again, and agony flared up her arm. Clawing pinching burning Fade energy that she didn't know what to do with, like being hit with ice and fire and lightning all at once coupled with a smite. Her knees buckled and collapsed as she clutched vainly at her wrist in an instinctive attempt to prevent it spreading. She could feel the Veil fracturing and pulling around it, stray threads cutting into her being. Then as quickly as the pain had arrived, it left. She managed to unscrunch her eyes to see Cassandra kneeling in the snow in front of her.
“Each time the Breach spreads, so does that mark. And it is killing you,” the other woman informed her gravely, and Cirridwen bared her teeth at the damn thing. She had not survived what she had to die because some mystery tumour of a mark had made her hand its home. “It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time.”
Cirridwen lifted burning gold eyes to fixate on the Nevarran. “There won't be much of our world either, if we do not try.”
Marching up the mountainside was difficult. While the snow had been cleared from the immediate path Cirridwen had no staff to aid her, even if Cassandra had been good enough to free her hands once they were out of the town. Crumpled bodies, many in Templar armour, lay alongside the path along with burning debris. Always with the burning debris, Cirridwen noted distantly, before another flare up sent agony shooting up her arm and stole the strength from her legs. Cassandra helped her up again, and they continued, Cirridwen pressing the other for details to fill in the disturbingly large gap in her memories while voices pressed insistently on her mind from the shredded Veil. It took her a moment to realise that one of the voices was Cassandra.
“How I survived? There's urchins in Minrathous who know more of it than I do. Right now it's nothing but scattered nightmares and conjecture. Whatever happened, I don't think it was my conscious doing.” Perhaps it was talking to Cassandra and the general shock of the situation that made her deaf, but she heard the cried warning almost too late. An instinctive shield flared around her as the bridge beneath them collapsed under a bolt from the breach, the two women tumbling onto the frozen river below. Cirridwen let herself roll to a stop, having learned the hard way that to resist falls was to risk far greater damage. The first thing she did on rolling to a stop was check her companion. The warrior had already rolled to her feet and was looking to her. Good, she didn't have yet another death that wasn't her fault to explain.
The next thing she checked for was to see if that blast had been aimed. But no. It seemed no different from any of the other random missiles plummeting from the sky like debris from volcanic eruptions. Speaking of... Cirridwen ducked her head on instinct as another flaming ball of green clipped the ridge nearby and crashed into the lake. She desperately hoped the river was thoroughly frozen as she had no desire to go for a swim if the ice broke. She could feel the panicked whispers about her, and then something reared up from the point of impact. She did not want to be lying down for this. Surging to her feet, Cassandra immediately darted forwards, calling to her.
“Stay behind me!” Cirridwen was only too happy to obey, she didn't want to know what her skill set would do when the Veil was so thin. Too thin, she realised as the ground Cassandra had just covered bubble threateningly. It was between her and the warrior. Cassandra would be flanked and Cirridwen would be defenceless. She scooted backwards over the ice, aware that she was utterly unfit for a fight when something rolled as her hand struck it. She looked down. A staff. It wasn't a mage's tool, this one plain wood with no embellishments. It curled over at the end before turning into a hook, and Cirridwen almost laughed as she realised what the damn thing was. She grabbed the shepherd's crook and used it to haul herself to her feet, turning to face the demon swiftly advancing on her. She had not much choice, it seemed.
Firstly, the damned thing was far too close. She bent her will on her surroundings, sending out an intense pulse that knocked it several feet back. The whispers grew louder, begging her to let them help. Let them keep her safe.
“Undo my foe,” she commanded, voice low and even. Around her green shapes burst into being, the clearest parts of them being the heads and arms as they descended on the demon. The spirits clawed at it, ripped and unraveled. With a shriek it was dissolved, scattered into parts far too small for even the compromised reality of their surroundings to support.
Cassandra drew her blade from her foe as it collapsed before her, and Cirridwen leaned on her staff as her satellites faded away to wait any further commands or needs. There were no further warning choruses, and she looked to the Nevarran.
“We're clear, for now,” she told the other woman only to have her turn and advance on her, sword out still.
“Drop your weapon, NOW.” the other commanded, voice steely. Cirridwen wrapped both hands around it, leaning on the wood heavily.
“I picked this stick up because there was a demon between us that needed dealing to.” Cirridwen informed the other, voice level and calm.
“You don't need to fight. Drop it.” Cassandra commanded again, eyes unwavering.
“Be that as it may, I need to walk. Unless you intend to carry me up the mountain, I will need this staff.” Cirriwen argued, still clinging to it and almost groaning at the relief it gave her side. “This isn't even a mage staff, but I can and will clobber somebody with it.”
For a moment the women were frozen, before Cassandra sighed.
“You're right. I cannot protect you, and I cannot expect you to be defenceless.” Her sword returned to its sheath and Cirridwen tilted her head at the other woman. She had not expected Cassandra to capitulate so easily, nor to turn her back as she began up the hill again. Then she paused, and swung around to face Cirridwen again. “I should remember, you did not attempt to run,” she allowed, and Cirridwen dipped her head as graciously as any lady at court. Cassandra dug in a pouch at her waist and produced a little clutch of flasks. “Take these potions. You may have need of them.” Cirridwen followed her up the hill, feeling far more confident and quick on her feet now that she had a walking aid.
“Where are all your soldiers?” Cirridwen asked, the question niggling at her. Thus far they had seen precisely two scouts running down the hill for Haven, a number of dead templars and scattered mages and soldiers. But no-one else.
“They are at the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own for now,” Cassandra returned as the pair trudged up the hill as fast as Cirridwen could go. Cirridwen frowned, feeling a new pulling tickle. It was hard to tell, with her spirits agitated and the way the Veil all about them was so ragged. But it felt even weaker, almost as if it weren't there. They crested one of the numerous small rises in their way, and she realised she was right. There before them was a small squad at odds with demons, and another shifting fade-mass jutting through the Veil into their world.