Chapter One
The rift above pulses - another wave of demons are incoming, that is certain.
"Hold the line!" I call over my shoulder, and the troops oblige, keeping a wary eye on the demons spawning. With a hiss and a splutter, a long straggly demon emerges, its screech echoing around us.
"Hold!" I call again, waiting for the demon to come closer, to entice an attack.
An arrow shoots past my ear from behind, striking the demon squarely in one of its eyes. It screams and withers in pain, so I turn to bark a reprimand to the archer who had loosed, but words fail me.
It is her - the survivor of the conclave, standing with the dwarf from Kirkwall, who is loading another arrow bolt into his crossbow. The prisoner has a staff in her hand - when had she been armed? - and has grim determination set on her face as she summons the magic around her, casting a protective barrier around me and my troops; whilst Varric lets loose another bolt - it flies straight past me and hits the creature one more.
My heart pounding and body rushing with adrenaline, I point my sword forward and command an attack on the stumbling creature, as the prisoner jumps down from the ledge, closely followed by Cassandra. My men attack all around me as another wave appears: survival for my men at this moment is my only thought.
It's a swift and clean skirmish: I move quickly and deftly, despite not being in the field for years now. I can sense those fighting around me - Cassandra's shield and sword fighting style similar to my own. We work well as a team with our backs to one other: we shield with one arm and attack with the other, cutting down demon after demon.
"Quickly!" Cassandra calls from behind me and I turn just in time to see the survivor step forward, raise her hand to the rift and, with a surging pulse of electric magic, close the rift. The demons' bodies around us perish, and there is silence for the first time.
I cannot help but stare at the survivor. She is looking down at her hand, curiously turning it over to examine it. I can see the apostate elf, Solas, watch her too. He steps close to the prisoner and says a few low words. I turn to Cassandra, and yet I cannot take my eyes off the elven mage.
"Lady Cassandra, you managed to close the rift," I say. "Well done".
Cassandra sighs and turns to look at the survivor too. "Do not congratulate me, Commander: this is the prisoner's doing".
I knew that but for the first time, our eyes meet - gold to green. There's a splatter of blood on her cheek, but she looks non-pulsed.
"Is it?" I say, "I hope they're right about you - we've lost a lot of people getting you here," I can't help but cringe at the harshness of my words to her. Yes, they are true, but this is no time for modesty. The diversion by my soldiers to get the survivor closer to the ruins of the conclave is something I can not forgive lightly… even if she does look at me with an unflinching gaze.
"I can't promise anything," she replies, just as curt. "But I will try my best."
I blink at her honest words. "Then that's all we can ask," I say softly. Reluctantly I pull my gaze away, ignoring the abundance of questions bombarding my mind and instead focus on the task at hand. I turn to Cassandra: "the way to the temple should be clear - Lelianna will try to meet you there."
As swift as the solider she is, Cassandra nods, sheathing her sword. "Then we best move quickly - give us time Commander."
Once more, my gaze rests on the prisoner and she is looking at me, her eyes as green as the breach in the sky. They are bright and vibrant, and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as it feels like she is staring straight into my soul. Her head tilts to the side and I feel as if she's trying to figure me out, whilst I stare at her almost dumbfounded. Realising Cassandra is looking at me, I nod.
"Maker watch over you," I say to Cassandra, before looking back at the survivor. "For all our sakes".
Some of my men and women are running past me, falling back to the blockade now that the path is clear. I turn, willing myself not to look back, and help a limping solider. Never one to leave a man behind, I hook the soldier's arm around me, and help him walk to the blockade.
I glance over my shoulder as the strange foursome move out - and yet the survivor is watching me. I turn back to my men, ignoring the feel of her eyes on my back. I call for men to close the gates and seal them behind me once everyone is through - Lelianna's agents would meet the survivor at the conclave. There was nothing left for me to do except see to my troops, call in some healers and pray to the Maker that they all make it back in one piece.
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