Haven, Drakonis 5, Dragon 9:41
Cullen Rutherford stood on the icy path that led up the mountainside to the Temple of Sacred Ashes or, more accurately, what remained of it. He could feel his lungs burning as he swung his sword repeatedly, slicing through the demon horde as it bore down on him and his men. He called out over his shoulder, telling them to tighten their ranks, wincing as sweat trickled into his eyes. Will this never end, he wondered as he slammed his shield into a Despair Demon's face.
Since the explosion at Divine Justinia's Conclave, which killed everyone save a sole survivor, chaos had reigned supreme. Demons had been pouring out of the torn Veil above Haven, now simply known as the Breach, for the last three days. Cullen along with Sister Leliana Nightingale and Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast had done their best to rally the Chantry's forces but, in truth, they were just barely keeping the hordes of demons at bay.
Over the last 72 hours, their forces had noted the violent tear in the sky had been expanding at an alarming rate. Some believed it would eventually bring an end to the world. Cullen had to admit, it did feel like the end of days and, if they didn't get help soon, they'd be overrun.
He sensed someone advancing on his flank and before he could turn to assess the danger, he heard Sister Leliana's voice, "Commander, I've come to relieve you. Seeker Pentaghast requires your attention in the Chantry."
Cullen growled under his breath, "This had better not be something ridiculous like attending to some blighted noble's complaints over having to sleep in tents, Sister Nightingale!"
"I assure you, Commander, it is not," she replied though her voice sounded far away. He glanced toward her to see her drawing a bead on a demon down range. As she loosed the arrow, which he saw hit the demon square in the skull immediately killing it, she turned to him and said, "it is regarding the survivor. We have new information and the Seeker would like your counsel."
"Very well," he muttered, turning to his men to instruct them to follow her until he returned.
"You should also get some rest, Commander," she reminded him, downing another three demons with a single arrow. Cullen chuckled wryly and shook his head in wonder at her skill with a bow. Unable to let an opportunity to tease her slip by, he fixed her with an appreciative look and let loose a snarky retort.
"Now you're just showing off," he said.
"Don't change the subject," she said. Leliana straightened, her tone a mixture of glibness and warning. "You need rest."
Cullen snorted and rolled his eyes and fixed her with a look of annoyance. Secretly, he knew he was indeed nearly exhausted, but he wouldn't admit that, certainly not to anyone and most definitely not to Sister Leliana. He let out a sigh of frustration and, being nearly to the point of being too tired to care, let his sharp tongue get the better of him. "Demons don't need sleep, Leliana."
"But you do," she said. Leliana's grey eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly for a moment and she shifted her weight ever so slightly. She was a master at masking her emotions and intentions and, had he not been working with her for the last few months, he'd have missed the signs that she was becoming frustrated. "You're no good to me dead, Commander."
"As you say, Sister," he said. Cullen sighed in resignation, realizing there was no arguing with her. As he retreated, he helped his men where he could; protecting a flank here, slashing through a demon there, and rescuing wounded as he found them.
By the time he reached the bulwark, exhaustion was weighing heavily on him. The guards helped him inside and, as he was bustled toward the command table, someone pressed a canteen of water into his hand. It was Knight-Captain Rylen.
"Good to see you in one piece, Commander," Rylen said. The gregarious Starkhavener grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder in as much a greeting as it was relief to see him.
"Indeed," Cullen said. As his trained eyes scanned the activity ebbing and flowing around him, Cullen opened the canteen and took a deep draught of water. Maker, that felt good. Satisfied everything seemed well in hand – Rylen was his second in command for a reason, afterall – he turned his attentions to the reason he was here. Wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand he nodded toward Haven. "Has the prisoner woken?"
"Not yet," Rylen said, "though I've heard it said the Ambassador has finally discovered her identity."
"Oh?"
"T'would be best if you heard it from the Seeker, Commander," Rylen said. His second's voice had dropped to a low, almost conspiratorial tone, and Cullen watched as he shifted his weight – as if he were suddenly uncomfortable about the topic of discussion – before meeting his gaze.
Cullen studied his long time friend's face for a moment and, seeing only deep concern writ there, he clapped him on the shoulder and thanked him for the update before striding off toward Haven proper. Somewhere along the way, one of his aids pressed the reins of a horse into his hand and he thanked them, swinging into the saddle and putting his heels to the steed's sides.
There was only one reason he knew Cassandra would call him off the mountain. The prisoner had to be a mage. He sighed to himself, a feeling of uncertainty welling in his gut. He had to admit, he didn't know much about the situation other than the prisoner had been a woman and that his solders reported she'd stepped out of the fade and collapsed, unconscious shortly after the explosion. Perhaps he was wrong, it'd been known to happen after all, and perhaps she wasn't a mage. Perhaps Cassandra had other concerns or the woman's family was requesting her transport home. Not likely, he griped. Maker knows we don't have enough to deal with as it is.
His mind wandered as he rode. All sorts of strange events had coincided with the appearance of the Breach to include the appearance of an elven apostate named Solas, joining their forces under the guise of wanting to help. Cullen suspected the mage had been drawn there by the appearance of the Breach or had some ulterior motive with regard to the wild magic surging forth from the Veil.
Also, at some point, Cassandra had informed him that the prisoner bore a strange, magical mark on her left palm. Although he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd been told that the mark had striking similarities to the tear in the Veil. And, unfortunately, it, like the Breach, had begun to spread. Solas reported it was, in fact, spreading every time the Breach expanded and it, like the tear in the Veil, would soon kill the prisoner just as the Breach would soon extinguish the world.
Cullen reached the Chantry in short order and was greeted with a very chaotic scene. Many of the faithful had gathered in Haven to support the Divine's efforts to barter peace between the mages and templars, who had been at war since a rebel mage obliterated Kirkwall's chantry, killing everyone inside. Since the explosion, those pilgrims who weren't killed by the explosion or the demons were left stranded in Haven. Many now huddled inside and around the chantry, praying and crying as the Breach sparked and roiled above them.
A young soldier ran up and took the reins of the horse from him and Cullen nodded his thanks before stalking off to find the stairs that led to the cells beneath the Chantry. He'd been told the news of the prisoner being a mage had already circulated throughout the crowd. Even now as he walked among them, he could hear people blaming her for Divine Justinia's death. Cullen knew that if she ever awoke, there was a very high chance she'd be executed by a lynch mob.
He tripped tiredly down the well-worn stone stairs to find Cassandra standing at the bottom, locked in deep conversation with the elven apostate Solas. Cullen cleared his throat as he approached and Cassandra looked up to fix him with a steely gaze. She quickly relaxed realizing it was him and welcomed him in a somewhat tired voice, "Ah, Commander. I am glad Sister Nightingale found you. We have much to discuss."
He arched a brow as she led him to the cell door; by her tone, this sounded far more ominous than Leliana had let on. The guard turned to unlock and open the door for them, standing aside with a crisp salute. He nodded to the soldier and followed Cassandra inside. He was a bit surprised to see such a large cell for one person and immediately noted two guards as well as two templars stationed in each corner of the room.
In the center of the room a young woman, whom he guessed was no less than twenty-five, lay sprawled on the floor. Her hands were chained and he could see sweat beaded on her brow. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to her left hand and the mysterious green glowing mark. He watched as it sparked and spat eldritch energy – much like the Breach itself – and with each outpouring of power, the young woman winced and twitched in pain.
His brows knit together at the sight of her. She was clearly in a great deal of pain. He turned to Cassandra and asked, "Is there nothing we might do for her?"
"Solas informs me he's done all he can to stabilize the mark," she replied grimly.
He knelt, grabbing a wet cloth from a basin nearby and wrung it out before moving to kneel beside her. As he drew near, something gave him pause. A familiar tingle sparked across his skin. As he reached to wipe the young woman's brow, he felt the lyrium in his veins begin to hum and then sing, which caused him to freeze in his tracks. His earlier thought had been correct. His eyes snapped up to Cassandra and he asked, "Sister Leliana said there was something you wished to tell me?"
"As you've astutely sensed, she is indeed a mage," Cassandra replied. The Seeker crossed her arms in front of her, her expression much more grim and sober than usual. And that was saying something even for her, the avatar of seriousness. With what little of the situation he knew coupled with Cassandra's unsettling revelation, he deduced he wasn't brought here to discuss the finer points of shepherding an unconscious mage. Cullen chose his words carefully now, glancing over his shoulder to look up at her as he spoke.
"You think she's responsible for the explosion," he said.
"Possibly," Cassandra said. She sighed, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side as she collected her thoughts. After a moment, she spoke again, her tone ominously hinting the news she had would not cheer him. "Though that is not why I called you here."
He glanced back down at the woman for a moment, noting how pale she looked. She bore no other injuries that he could see and, from what remained of his Templar abilities, he could sense she was not possessed. She grimaced again and cried out, the mark on her hand sparking violently. Cullen moved to steady her and, as the worst of the tremor passed, he gently wiped the cool cloth across her brow. He wished there was more they could do to help her, and yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, doubt over her potential guilt lurked like a wolf stalking its prey.
As her breathing leveled out, Cullen sighed and tossed the rag back into the basin before pushing to his feet. The pain behind his eyes was throbbing now – just being near someone who could wield magic was driving his withdrawal to a maddening level – and he felt his irritation rising. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment then turned to address Cassandra. "What is giving you pause, Seeker?"
"Ambassador Montilyet has discovered the identity of our guest. She is Lady Mnemyn Trevelyan of the Ostwick Circle of Magi sent to the Divine's conclave as her Circle's representative."
Cullen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. She had to be a very skilled and trusted mage to be chosen as her First Enchanter's representative. Cassandra continued, "She was accompanied by several other delegates: two younger mages and two Templars, one of whom was her cousin and a very well respected Knight-Captain."
His mind whirled. He had heard this family name before. He turned it over several times in his mind, dredging through nearly forgotten mnemonics in hopes of trying to recall what he knew of the Trevelyan clan. Suddenly, he managed to dredge up an old memory, his eyes widening slightly at the information and he shifted his gaze to Cassandra once more. "Her family is one of the pillars of Ostwick, are they not? Very devout. Most of the second and third sons and daughters serve the chantry."
Cassandra nodded tiredly. "Yes that is correct. Her father, Bann Trevelyan, remains an extremely pious supporter of Divine Justinia. He has already pledged funds and supplies to our cause…"
"You're concerned how the Trevelyan's will view us holding her for questioning," he said. "Right now, we have more important things to worry about. She's in no condition to confirm nor deny any hand in the explosion, Seeker. The best we can do is wait until she's recovered should we survive that long."
The apostate, who'd remained silent throughout he and Cassandra's conversation, stepped forward now, his hands clasped behind his back. "I believe the mark on Lady Trevelyan's hand is the key to closing the Breach."
"You can't be serious," Cullen said. Solas fixed him with what could only be described as an icy glare. Clearly he'd been stung by Cullen's disbelief. The mage narrowed his eyes and, when he spoke, his voice was nearly as frigid as the look he'd just given him.
"I would not jest, Ser, over something so important."
"She's unconscious," Cullen said, "What do expect to do? Drag her up there and, what? Point her hand at the sky?"
"Solas wishes to bring the healers to—"
Cullen pursed his lips in an attempt to bite back his rising anger. "You want to revive her—the woman who might be responsible for murdering the Divine?"
"That mark may be our only chance at survival, Commander," Solas said. Cullen looked up to see the other man's face set and grim and the conviction reflected in his eyes made him pause.
Cullen sighed heavily, bowing his head for a moment as he fought to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't deny them a chance at survival he knew. But this entire scenario seemed desperate at best. Had they really come to this point? Hanging their hopes on some unknown mage from far-flung Ostwick who happened to bear a magical mark that might be their salvation?
After a moment of consideration, Cullen realized he supposed it had come to this and let out a heavy sigh of resignation. He turned to fix Cassandra with an intense look, ensuring she knew he did not like this plan of action. "I want at least two Templars stationed here while the healers work to revive her, Seeker." When Solas looked as though he would balk, Cullen turned to fix the mage with a sharp look. "For the healers' protection as much as hers and yours, Ser."
This seemed to mollify the cranky elf and Cullen turned to follow Cassandra into the hall. He glanced back at the young woman one last time before turning toward the stairs. "I'll be in my tent should you need me, Seeker."
"If I require anything, I shall call on Knight-Captain Rylen," she said, "as you require sleep, Commander."
There was a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she walked him to the stairs and, from the firmness with which she spoke, he knew it was a declaration that brooked no argument.
"Yes, yes," he said tiredly. Shaking his head, he turned to trudge up the worn stone treads and into the Chantry proper.
After grabbing a quick bite to eat, Cullen retreated to his tent. If he did not at least get an hour or two of sleep, he knew Leliana would not allow him back onto the mountain. He sighed tiredly as he removed his armor, depositing it into a tidy pile at the foot of his cot. As he settled back into his bedroll, he found his thoughts drifting back to the prisoner. Her pale, pained expression was the last thing he saw as he drifted off to sleep.
Sometime later, he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and, as his vision swam into focus, he saw Knight-Captain Rylen standing in the flaps of his tent. He dropped his head back onto his pillow and groaned. "How long have I been out?"
"Eh, not overlong, Commander," Rylen said. Cullen scowled as he recognized the hesitation in his voice. He watched as Rylen began rubbing the back of his neck while he steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. So now she's got Rylen fibbing to me, lovely, he groused. Maker take your blighted good intentions, Sister.
Cullen grunted and rolled out of his bunk, pushing to his feet. He had to steady himself for a moment as the blood rushed to his head. "How long, Rylen?"
"About six hours, Ser," Rylen mumbled.
"Andraste's flaming knickers!" Cullen hung his head in defeat for a moment before turning to grab his breastplate. As he and began to pull it into place, his fingers automatically working to secure the myriad of buckles which held it in place, he continued his tirade. "I told James not more than three—"
"Seeker Pentaghast threatened to have him permanently assigned to latrine duty if he obeyed you, Commander. She said you needed your rest."
Cullen groaned and glared at the tent wall as he continued to buckle himself into his armor. He knew his fellow advisors meant well but sometimes they could be incredibly irritating and just a tad overbearing. He supposed it didn't matter now and he had to admit, he did feel a great deal better.
"Where is the Seeker now?"
"Interrogating the prisoner, actually," Rylen said. His second turned and ducked his head, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth as he tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn.
"She's awake?" Cullen said, incredulous. Rylen nodded and handed him one of his vambraces.
"Yes, Donnell and Gregory oversaw the whole thing as you requested, Commander. Gregory said the healers were able to revive Lady Trevelyan, though it took some effort."
"When?"
"Nearly a half hour ago," Rylen said. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder in the vague direction of the chantry before continuing. "Donnell said he heard the young lady swear she has no recollection of what transpired."
Cullen snorted. "Convenient."
Rylen shrugged and affected a look of uncertainty. "I suppose it's possible. T'is not my place to pass judgement on her. That ball is squarely in the Maker's court."
Cullen made a thoughtful sound as he wrapped his usual sash burgundy and gold around his waist before buckling his belt over it. Testing the weight distribution of his sword in its scabbard, he frowned and reached to slide its frog into a better position. "You're right. And I have little time to worry about such nonsense. I have work to do."
"Indeed, Commander," Rylen said with a salute.
"You, on the other hand, will go get six hours of sleep. I need you fresh; something's about to happen. I can feel it."
Rylen, for his part, didn't seem terribly surprised by this order though the disappointment in his voice was unmistakable when he answered. "Aye, Commander."
Several messengers and runners met Cullen as he emerged from his tent. He listened to each in turn, scribbled a few notes on the documents they proffered, and barked a few orders before stalking off to find his horse. He needed to relieve Sister Leliana as soon as possible. In addition to that, he needed to see what the state of the valley was in. He hoped not worse than before he'd left it.
Soon, someone had pressed a fresh canteen and the reins of a horse into his hands and he was charging off into the frigid mountain air. It stung his cheeks and made his eyes water but he rode on as fast as his mount would go. Within moments, he had returned to the bulwark and one of his aids briefed him on the situation as he walked toward the gates.
"Very well, instruct the second regiment to come up and relieve the third. Ensure what remains of the first regiment is fed, their wounds tended, and that they are properly rested. Knight-Captain Rylen will be responsible for bringing them up at 0600."
"Yes, Commander!" The young man saluted and ran off.
Cullen turned to the guards and ordered the doors open. Soon, he was fighting his way up the mountain toward the front line once again. As he crested a particularly steep embankment, he saw Leliana perched in a makeshift sniper's nest.
"Good evening, Commander!" Leliana said. Her halloo floated down from her perch and Cullen watched as she turned to loose four arrows in rapid succession, downing her targets with ease.
"Showing off again, I see," he said. Teasing Leliana was a delightful and often rewarding sport and one which he participated in as often as he could muster. Still grinning, he turned to slam his shield into a pair of advancing demons.
"I am far too much of a lady to do such a thing, Commander," she said. She was also grinning and he watched as she nimbly clambered down to meet him.
Just as she'd reached the ground, he saw a Rage demon melt out of the ground. Thinking quickly, he spun into action and charged toward Leliana. She, too, had caught sight of the demon and, with some nimble footwork, managed to duck behind his shield as he deflected a particularly wild gout of flame.
"I see we've gained some ground," he said. Was it odd, he wondered, to be carrying on a conversation so casually as they waited for the flames to die down? He supposed not, his memory drifting back to his Kirkwall days and watching Hawke and Aveline carry on much the same way. He felt a pang of remorse—or was it longing?—for his old acquaintances and he wondered where they were and if they were okay.
Movement on his left flank dragged him from his revelry and he watched as Leliana nimbly rolled and shot several arrows into the demon's body. Grinning, he whirled and finished the beast, stabbing his sword into its skull. As it began to disintegrate, he shot her a wry grin, "Nicely done, Sister."
"I live to serve, Commander," she said. She was smiling, her grey eyes dancing with mischief as she flourished a small bow. He smirked and shook his head, stabbing his sword into the snow so that he could wipe the sweat from his brow. As Leliana shouldered her bow she fixed him with a serious look. "What news of the prisoner?"
"Awake, actually. Cassandra is interrogating her now."
"Alone?" she said. For the first time in, well, ever, she sounded surprised. Cullen looked up to see she was not bothering to hide neither her incredulousness nor dismay at the news. This was new. Leliana was always so…controlled.
"Yes, why?"
"Cassandra is not known for her… gentleness, Commander," Leliana said. From her hesitance, he could tell she'd chosen her reply carefully, her gaze flicking toward Haven briefly.
"Then it's fortuitous I came to relieve you," he said. Retrieving his sword from the ground, he rebalanced it in his hand and made ready to take the field once more.
As Leliana nodded and turned to drift down the slope, he remembered something and, half turning, he called to her over his shoulder. "The next few hours may prove to be our worst. I'd advise you to get some rest where you can."
He watched as Leliana shot him a smirk and nodded, clearly amused he'd thought to use her earlier warning to him against her. "I shall take that under advisement, Commander."
He nodded as she retreated down the path behind him and then made ready to assist the second regiment's relief efforts. Thankfully, the changeover went rather smoothly. Even the wounded had been taken from the field with few incidents.
Sometime later, while he was working on devising a flanking maneuver in an attempt to take back some more lost ground, a messenger ran up and caught his attention. Ordering one of his Lieutenants to step up and take over for a moment, Cullen extracted himself from the fray. Moving quickly, he closed the distance between himself and the nervous messenger.
The young man, who looked barely fifteen, stood panting at attention as he waited to be acknowledged. Cullen stabbed his sword into the earth and held his hand out for the missive. He sighed as the boy meekly placed it in his palm and shot back to attention. If they survived this, he'd have to discuss battle conditioning for the messengers with Sister Leliana.
Commander,
Keep the path to the Temple as clear as you can. We are bringing the prisoner post haste. Solas says we must close the Breach now if we are to survive.
–L.
He sighed and dismissed the messenger, turning to light Leliana's note on the puddled, flaming remains of a Rage demon. Letting the ash float into the air, he turned and began to rally his troops up the mountain pass toward the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.
Though he knew he had to buy the Seeker and the Nightingale as much time as he could, he found this new gamble questionable at best. How he'd keep up a sustained assault on the oncoming horde with so few troops and so near the main source of demons, he did not know. Andraste watch over us, he thought.
Sweat trickling down his brow, he fought onward. Minutes felt like hours. His shoulder ached, his feet frozen, and, Maker, it felt as though the pain behind his eyes could kill a gurn in one shot. To make matters worse, the lyrium in his blood sang and roiled as he fought on. Soon, his and body and mind joined in, demanding in unison that he give it more. He sighed and drew in a deep breath of frigid mountain air and began to recite the benediction under his breath in an attempt to drown out his withdrawal.
Just when he felt as though his limbs would fail, Cullen heard Cassandra shouting somewhere over his shoulder. He was engaged with several Despair demons and, as he finished dispatching them, he turned to see her flanked by Solas and Varric Tethras, the dwarf the Seeker had dragged along from Kirkwall. Behind them stood the young woman from the Chantry's cells. It was then he realized the rift, which he'd kept at his left flank, was gone.
"Lady Cassandra, you managed close the rift?" he said. Breathlessly, he flicked demon entrails from his sword before sheathing it and moved to greet Cassandra. "Well done."
"Do not congratulate me, Commander," she said. She tipped her head to the side, indicating the woman who stood at her back, and admitted, in a tone that passed as amusement for even her bone dry humor, that she had no hand in the rift closing. "This is the prisoner's doing."
His gaze turned to Lady Trevelyan, or at least that's what he thought Rylen had said her name was. From where he stood, she seemed about a half-head or so shorter than he. Her raven hair, which he'd last seen splayed across the Chanty cell floor, was now neatly pulled into a long braid down her back.
He felt his pulse jump as she smiled at him. She was just as beautiful, if not more so, than when he last laid eyes upon her. Though now, he was struck by the vividness of her intense blue-green eyes. Almost the shade of the sea near the shallows, he thought suddenly. Realizing a few seconds had passed he resumed his usual semi-scowl. "Is it? I hope they're right about you. We've risked a lot of men getting you here."
"You're not the only one hoping that," the woman quipped sarcastically.
"We'll see soon enough, won't we?" he said. He allowed a slight grin to tug at the corners of his lips, signaling his amusement. Judging by her mildly sarcastic remark, she seemed rather quick witted. Forcing himself to look at Cassandra and feeling just the tiniest bit odd for flirting on the field of battle, Cullen refocused himself on the task at hand. "The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."
"Then we'd best move quickly," Cassandra said. She turned to fix Lady Trevelyan with a concerned look and, in return, the young woman nodded and hefted her staff as made ready to leave. Satisfied the mage and their other companions were ready, she turned back to regard him with a grave look. "Give us time, Commander."
"Maker watch over you—" Cullen began to say. As he was speaking, his eyes met with Lady Trevelyan's once more and he felt all the breath rush out of his lungs. She was rather breathtaking, he thought before managing to regain his train of thought. "For all our sakes."
Without another word he turned and began helping the wounded down the hill. Cullen and his men fulfilled their promise and kept the demons from over running the Temple crater. It was in the Maker's hands now.
A scant forty minutes later, he saw a streak of green energy blast toward the sky. A moment later, a shockwave nearly knocked him down. Shielding his eyes, he looked toward the Heavens. The clouds roiled and swirled but the Breach itself seemed calmer than he'd ever seen it. He let out the breath he'd been holding as he realized the prisoner had done it. She'd sealed the tear in the Veil.
He half turned and called out to his soldiers, rallying them onward. They roared and cheered in response, raising their swords to the heavens in triumph. Filled with hope and a second wind, they turned to fight with renewed purpose.
Twenty long minutes later, Cullen shouldered his way through the gathered throng around the Temple crater. In the center, he saw several Templars standing guard. He soon spotted Cassandra and Solas knelt within their protective circle with the young woman lying motionless at their feet. Cullen blinked, his heart suddenly clenching in his chest. Had she died? He felt a surge of grief and demanded to be let through.
The crowd parted and he hurried down into the crater. As he approached, he called out to Cassandra. "Seeker, is she—?"
"She is alive," Solas intoned quietly without turning.
"Merely unconscious," Cassandra said solemnly. "We believe using the mark overwhelmed her."
Several scouts hurried up with a litter and, as they sat it down, the Templars knelt to assist them in transferring the mage's limp body onto it. Cullen watched as they carried her away. He felt a growing unease settle into his gut.
Without warning, a wave of vertigo washed over him and he stumbled slightly, clutching his head. A hand steadied him, which he was greatly thankful for, and when he opened his eyes he saw Cassandra watching him closely. He nodded, signaling he was all right and mumbled, "I've over exerted myself, nothing more."
She scrutinized him a moment longer and then nodded in return, satisfied by his answer. "I will attend to our guest. I suggest you get some air, Commander."
He was about to balk and saw her frowning at him in a most annoyed manner. Firmly, but not unkindly, Cassandra said, "Let Knight-Captain Rylen handle the cleanup operations."
"Very well, Seeker," he sighed, turning to find Rylen in the crowd. After he'd relayed Cassandra's order, he retreated down the mountain at a moderate pace. By the time he'd reached Haven, most of the cheering had subsided and he retired to his tent. It had been an extremely trying three days and, although he was loathe to admit it to Leliana or Cassandra, some rest was in order.