A slight glow of red pulsed in the dark room. It did little to illuminate the small area, but the fire in the dank fireplace threw off enough light to cast shadows.
"The Inquisition is of no match for one such as I," a strangely hypnotic voice spoke, "The Anchor may be set, but it is of no matter. This 'Inquisitor' cannot hope to stand against me. She is but a mortal; nothing to a God." He turned toward the ex-Templar in the room with him, looking down from his height. "She will fall when next we meet. Continue your mission."
Samson bowed low, "My lord, I know that this Herald is not a rival to you. We all know it. However, there is something that I would discuss with you." When Samson's words did not provoke a whiplash, only a slight nod, he proceeded. "The Inquisition has become popular with the ants. Its army, though filled with peasants, has grown quite large." Samson straightened, his tone sliding into a sneer, "Command Cullen," the consonants came out sharp and mocking, "Is someone I know. Although his is a fool, he is not an idiot. He is capable of training a strong army, one that could rival ours."
Corypheus looked into the weak flames, watching them snap and writhe. "We have assassins for such events."
Samson licked his lips and spoke once more, "He is a Templar; he has the addiction."
The misshapen head turned slowly towards the red eyed man. "Then turn him." A sickening smile spread across Samson's face, and he bowed low once more, placing his hand on his armor as he backed away.
"Your will be done."
Cullen Rutherford, Commander of the Inquisitions armies, leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck with a grimace. Not only was it late, but he could feel the itch under his skin, the pull for the box that sat in one of his drawers. He resisted the urge to pull it out; to lay it on the table and stare. On those instances, it felt like the lyrium won. Even though he hadn't ever succumbed, sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be the wiser decision. Sometimes he just…
Cullen pushed away from the table, rolling his shoulders beneath his armor. Dwelling on his addiction just made things more difficult. Besides, it was late, and he was tired. The rest of his reports could wait until after tomorrows morning's drills. Cullen started towards the ladder that led up to his makeshift bedroom. He and the Inquisitor Lavellan would be drilling tomorrow. A small smile quirked the scar on his lip, softening the tension in his forehead. She had said she wanted to spend more time with him…
No sound was made, but Cullen froze, all his senses on sudden high alert. Something made him stop with one foot up on the ladder rung, his eyes snapped back and forth. Nothing was out of place that he could tell, but something was wrong. Slowly, Cullen backed into the corner, dropping his hand to his sword pommel, slowly drawing his sword. His instincts had gotten him this far in life, through Ferelden and Kirkwall. A warrior does not ignore them and last long.
Cullen leveled his breathing, slow, quiet breaths. In the night he could hear the wind that always blew through the tall mountains, the sounds of insects and the occasional animal noises. Troops patrolled the walls, and he knew that he the two sets of boots that he heard were typical for the patrol. It was not from outside.
There was an abrupt tingle in the air, and a sudden dampening of the senses. A tingle when up Cullen's spine. He knew this. This is what happened to him back in Kinloch Hold, when he had been imprisoned in magic. His stomach tightened and rolled. From his loft, a slight figure dropped down, a hand flashing out. Cullen got a quick impression of a glowing red dagger, and quickly brought up his sword, deflecting the blow. The black enshrouded figure before danced away quickly, before once again bringing the red lyrium blade towards him. At the same time, another robed figure appeared at the top of the ladder. This one held a staff, one that was gathering power again.
Cullen brought his sword in an arc, causing the small assassin to dodge to the side. Cullen quickly rolled away to the relative safety of the middle of the room, and some sort of spirit spell exploded over where he once stood. His shield was over by his desk, and the mage would not be as accurate. Rolling to his feet, and bringing his momentum forward, Cullen grabbed his shield, swinging around in time to once again deflect the dagger. The assassin quickly pulled the blade back, seeming to not want it to slam into the metal. Perhaps the lyrium could be shattered?
Another whistle of magic streamed towards him, and Cullen deflected the magic down, sweeping out with his sword and snapped a vicious line across the assassins back as he spun. The acrid scent of magic grew strong, and the mage stepped toward him. The mage must have gotten down somehow, but Cullen hadn't seen it happen. A greenish light started to glow in the small room, ruffling papers and rattling bits of metal.
Three things happened all at once. The assassin darted to behind him, reaching towards the gap in his armor between his arm and shoulder. The light the mage was drawing on condensed around him, buffeting all sides. He no stores of lyrium in his blood to draw upon, but Cullen threw out a spell, attempting to purge the magic from around him. The red tip of the lyrium dagger touched his skin, and all hell broke loose. Inside Cullen, his muscles froze, his head rang and spun. He felt squeezed, all breath left his body, and a slight blue wave met the green around him. Through the encroaching darkness, he saw the green light overpower his pitiful attempts to knock it away, and he saw it roll over him as he fell.
He had failed her.
Paile jerked awake to the sound of metal pounding footsteps and "Inquisitor!" echoing up into her bed chamber. Reflexively she snatched the sword propped next to her bed and pushed out of the sheets. Already snapped awake, and feeling the adrenaline surging through her, she reached the door at the same time one of the guards got to it. She yanked it open; "Report" Nothing good could be announced.
"It is Commander Cullen, my lady. Something has happened; he is gone!" Captain Henley, one of Cullen's men broke out.
For a moment Paile's head whirled as she processed that. Her feet remained glued to the floor. No, she thought, but we were supposed to practice together tomorrow… he can't be…
Her tunnel vision quickly snapped back into focus, and she strode forward. There were things she needed to do; she was the Inquisitor. The determination in her stride whipped her hair behind her, the moon light streaming in from the windows making the pale strands glow otherworldly "Details."
"A patrol found a magical barrier. It disappeared right away, and they patrol searched. The Commander's armor was on the floor, but the Commander could not be found." Another sick wave rolled through Paile's stomach.
"First of all, wake Leliana." Paile buckled her sword across her back, over her warm pajamas. Her bare feet were whispers on the stone, but her determination spoke loudly enough. The door to the main hall was open, and a small retinue of guards awaited her. She nodded to them once, and they fell in behind her and Captain Henley.
"I dispatched someone to her quarters as I was coming to get you." Paile nodded in acknowledgement. Her men were no fools.
"Secondly, I will need Solas. Bring him to me once he has awoken." Here she paused and shot a hard glance to the Captain and guards. "Do not shock him out of it. He will awaken when he can." He would be walking the fade while safe here in Skyhold, and she couldn't risk startling him while he was there. "Leave a guard with him with my directions, Captain, and one to alert Skyhold. There is a hostile inside." She resumed her strides, turning to make use of the mural room and bridge.
The guard, Captain Henley, gave a curt nod, and sent two men off to obey her commands. Paile knew that she would soon have a mad scramble of people waking in a panic, but it was unavoidable. The veilfire lantern threw eerie lights, illuminating the eyes painted onto the walls. Creators, it was creepy in here at night.
At that thought, Vivienne appeared in the doorway, a long fur-lined robe wrapped around her. Her top of her staff reflected the veilfires light, glinting with the power that Vivienne could conjure. "I heard." Once Paile got over the initial start, she let out a quick breath. At least one of her people was safe. Paile nodded in relief, continuing along her journey and outside.
Vivienne fell came forward quickly to fall into step beside her. "Don't worry, my dear. We will get to the bottom of this."
"We will," Paile agreed with determination. Right now there could be no room for doubt. They would find out where their Commander was, and he would be alright. Vivienne offered her a quick smile. The bite of the night was harsh, and Paile knew that in a few weeks it would start snowing in earnest up here in the mountains. But the cold did not register as their small group strode towards the door. Paile was just too intent.
The door to Commander Cullen's office stood open, but she did not proceed. Motioning for the guards to wait, Paile crouched down and looked down. Vivienne followed suit, examining the marks left behind. "It was a spell." Vivienne drew her finger across the line. "Broken and no longer of danger." She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together and stood, stepping across into the office. "All sounds would have been dampened, but it was not meant to keep anyone in." Paile took one last glance before following into the room.
A quick visual sweep once again had her freezing in place. A collapsed shrunken pile of clothes and armor lay on the floor. Her throat knotting up, Paile took shaky steps to the pile, and sank down on her haunches. Vivienne spared the pile a glance, but started to look for clues elsewhere. Paile had this covered.
She reached out a hand, and carefully placed it on the metal chest piece. The metal was freezing to touch, air temperature. No body heat had been transferred for some time. Paile gently reached out and skimmed a finger across the fur mantle he wore around his shoulders. It was soft, just as she thought it would be. She had felt it once. It had been warm from his body heat as he had picked her up from the snow. Her head had nestled on it, and partially against his chest. But she had been so cold, so frozen, that she hadn't noticed anything other than the warmth. And now there was no warmth. Just soft. Paile drew her hand back. She would have preferred to only have known it as being warm.
Sitting back on her heels, she looked at the pile of clothes. The position seemed to be that of him half turning, and then fallen onto his back. His shield lay upside down, partially under some of his clothes, so he had spun part way to his left. His sword splayed to the right. There was blood on it, Paile saw, and sat forward.
A creak from up above made Paile spin and reach for her sword, but Leliana spoke from above. "It is as they said, he is not here." Leliana slid down the ladder, landing softly, and whispered up to where Paile sat. "There is, however, a grappling hook leading up to the roof." They both leaned in to examine the sword once more.
"Some blood, but not much." Paile informed. "From the spray pattern, and from what I can see of his front, none of it is from him. Looks like he got off at least one good cut, perhaps two." They looked around the room, and Paile nodded to some small drops on the floor. "Whomever he attacked, they bleed some." There was not much, but it did appear that they drops led out the door to their right.
Paile turned toward her spymaster. "Find them." Her pale purple eyes were hard as gems.
"With pleasure," Leliana replied. In the darkness, her features under the cowl were carved like granite. Her eyes were just as tense, but there was a wrath there. Paile knew that there would be no stopping her, and she absolutely didn't care. They nodded to each other once, and Leliana stood, swept towards the door.
"Leliana," Paile called. Outside a bell started clanging furiously, and jumbled noises started up, people crying out in alarm and voices bringing command to the chaos. The woman stopped, her purple cowl appearing black, her face shadowed in the dark. "War room. Half an hour." Leliana nodded her head once, and then was gone.