One Step Ahead Chapter 2


Leliana heard shouting from outside, and looked up from a hastily-drawn field report to see Cassandra burst into the chantry beside the apostate Solas. As earlier, he was wearing simple green and brown clothes, and carrying a wooden staff with a curved, scythe-like head. Despite the late hour and their exhaustion from the day's events, both moved quickly and with purpose, bare feet and armored boots hitting the stone floor in sync.

Cassandra raised a hand and pointed, and Solas nodded and veered into the room past Leliana, so focused he didn't even seem to notice as they brushed by each other.

That kind of attitude towards a human woman could have killed an elven man in other circumstances. Solas was obviously no cringing, servile Alienage-dweller. This was a man with confidence and self-possession. Already, Leliana could sense she had made the right choice to send for him.

Cassandra followed Solas into the small priests' cell. The door slammed shut with a loud clang.

Leliana could do nothing but stand vigil outside the door, feeling useless. What else could she do? She was a spymaster, and this man was their only clue. So while Cullen's forces were being slaughtered in droves, she would wait for word on whether their one lead would survive.

Some hours later, long after midnight, the door to the priest's cell opened, and Solas stepped out, looking as haggard as Leliana felt.

"Lady Nightingale." Solas greeted, nodding his head slightly.

"What news?" Leliana said bluntly. She had no more patience for pleasantries.

"There are many things we need to discuss…" the elf said in a low voice, so that only Leliana could hear.

With a sharp look and a wave of her hand, Leliana dismissed the nearby soldiers, templars and priests, all of whom were hovering close by. They cleared away further into the chantry.

With one last look around for any eavesdroppers, Solas leaned in. "His body should be unconscious in this state, perhaps even comatose. It's almost unbelievable that he's awake, let alone lucid. I don't think it's natural. He wouldn't tell me how he was doing it, at any rate."

"Is there anything you can do for him?" Leliana asked, changing the subject. It wouldn't do to turn this into an interrogation—not just yet. She could intuit that Aaron may have taken some kind of measures to artificially revive himself each time he fell unconscious, but that information could be filed away for later examination. They had bigger things to attend to.

"I've done all I can to stabilize his condition, at least directly..." Solas said, suddenly pensive. "Though, come to think of it, there might be something I can do about the surroundings…"

Solas waved his hand, producing an opaque green light that quickly went translucent and then faded away. A strange stillness seemed to descend over them, like they were buried by a blanket of snow.

"What did you do?" Leliana asked, her voice sounding strangely flat in her ears.

"I attenuated a small area of the Veil around us to make the effects on the mark less pronounced, perhaps slow them a bit. This will not hold, however. Eventually, he will die if left like this." Solas said matter-of-factly.

"Is there anything I can provide that would help?" Leliana asked.

Solas' brow knitted in frustration. "What is his race? When Seeker Cassandra and I asked, he refused to answer."

Leliana's eyes narrowed slightly. "I assume he is human, probably an Avvar, based on his size, strange accent, and the bear pelt. Though I suppose it's possible he's a hornless Qunari. I once traveled with one who had a similar height. Why do you ask? What did you find?"

Solas had a rather sour frown on his face. "I'm… not sure, exactly. I can't seem to make sense of him, so I thought that knowing his background might provide context. I have traveled far, and seen much; to be presented with such a baffling mystery is… not something I am accustomed to. But the mark is connected to the Breach, there is no question about that."

Leliana crossed her arms. For all his wise, competent affect, that was a spectacularly unhelpful assessment. Mere hours after… the unthinkable had occurred, she no longer had any patience to spare. "Just tell me what you do know. Is he a mage? Could he have done this?"

"I can feel faint echoes of power about him," Solas said, staring down at the faint light around his hands. "There is a residual aura of magic, but it is difficult to perceive past all the interference. He is probably a hedge mage or apostate in hiding. In his current state, so weakened and close to death, it's difficult to tell. But… it is strange. It is like the tiny wisps and fragments of spirits that normally accumulate around people and mages in particular are being… repelled by him, somehow. Usually, demons find weakened mages more enticing."

Leliana frowned. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, is it?"

Solas shook his head. "I am unsure. His armor is so heavily reinforced with silverite enchantments that trying to get a sense of his abilities is almost impossible. It's like trying to see something dark behind a bright, glaring light."

"Silverite enchantments?" Leliana echoed, trying to fit that piece into the puzzle. "That makes no sense, you don't put silverite runes in armor, they're only useful for making weapons more effective against darkspawn…"

"And effective at creating enough magical interference to make sensing his abilities all but impossible, evidently," Solas pointed out. "We apostates go to great lengths to hide ourselves. Regardless of whatever else he might be trying to hide, I highly doubt he is directly responsible for the esoteric magic of the Breach. Indeed, I believe it is beyond the power of any mage to create. It is far more likely that he was near whatever magical effect caused the Breach, and part of it annealed to him."

Leliana inhaled sharply. "That still leaves open the possibility he was involved."

"Or he could simply be a survivor, saved from the explosion by the very mark which is now killing him." Solas shrugged. "Either way, we cannot overlook one crucial detail: when he appeared, a Fade rift opened, and yet it collapsed as soon as he fell through. Nothing I have been able to do has managed to close a rift. If the Breach's magic can be countered by the mark, it may be possible to use it to cause a… resonance, of sorts, with nearby Fade rifts, enough to shatter and seal them. It could possibly seal even the Breach itself."

Leliana's heart pounded in her chest. It was almost too much to hope for. "What would we need to make that happen?"

Solas rubbed his chin, considering. "We shall have to see. It may be as simple as proximity to a rift, or it may require some skill or training on his behalf."

Whatever must be done, must be done now. There's no telling how long Aaron will last.

Leliana made her decision and nodded to Solas. "I will tell our commander to muster our forces and retake the valley and the path to the temple. Solas, I'm entrusting Aaron to your care. If you can, preserve him long enough to get him there."

Solas nodded grimly. "Give me tonight. By morning, he will either be strong enough to go out and try to seal the rifts, or he will succumb. But he will succumb later if we do nothing and the Breach is allowed to keep expanding. It is a certainty."

"Do it." Leliana said, and turned on her heel.


Cassandra stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall of the cell as Solas tried to preserve the life of their prisoner.

She had to remain vigilant… but she was more exhausted than she could ever remember being. Not in the sense that her body was at its limits, but just pure mental and emotional fatigue.

Solas kept glancing at her, meeting her eyes. It got to be so bothersome that she finally brought it up.

"What do you want, mage?" Cassandra asked warily.

"You really should get some rest." Solas insisted.

"It is my duty to guard the prisoner," Cassandra muttered. "I would not leave the task to anyone but Leliana, and she's away."

"Your prisoner is not going anywhere, Seeker, not like this. If we want to deal the Breach, we need both of you to be at your best." Solas said sharply.

Cassandra wanted to argue, but her thoughts were muddy, and her eyes stung just from the effort to keep them open.

"He has disappeared before." she pointed out.

"I will not let that happen," Solas said with absolute conviction. "Nor will the templar guards you stationed just outside the only door, I should think. If I need you, I will wake you."

Cassandra said nothing, but she lowered herself into a chair. Perhaps things will be better tomorrow…

Before doubt of this notion could enter her mind, she fell asleep.


Cassandra felt something shaking her shoulder. With some effort, she opened her eyes, feeling sore and stiff all over, her armor digging into her from where she had sat still for too long.

As soon as the blurriness cleared from her vision, she was crushed by the memory of everything that had happened. It hadn't been a nightmare. The Divine, the Conclave, Regalyan, the fugitive—the fugitive!

Cassandra bolted upright, nearly colliding with Solas, the one who had woken her. But Aaron was still laying on the bed in shackles, exactly where she had seen him before.

"Calm yourself, Seeker!" Solas said firmly. "Everything is fine. I only wished to wake you because it is dawn. I have done all I can for Aaron, and I must go ahead with Lady Nightingale to prepare the Fade rift. Can you bring him to the rift?"

Breathing heavily, Cassandra walked forward, and Aaron's head tracked her movements. She looked down on him, then back at Solas.

"He is ready?" she asked him curtly.

"His strength is recovered as much as it can be." Solas said, and Cassandra noticed for the first time how drained he looked, though she was probably no better. It didn't matter, anyway.

"Then go. I will get him there if I have to drag him myself." she said quietly.

Solas grabbed his staff and put his hand on the handle of the door, but then paused and looked back. "Do not be rough with him. He may be able to move, but his life is balanced on a razor's edge."

Cassandra gave a grunt of acknowledgement, and Solas left. Part of her was worried that she was being rude, but the overwhelming majority of her just didn't care anymore. She felt like she had used up all of her fury and sadness yesterday, leaving her a husk. The only thing that mattered now was stopping the Breach before it swallowed what little good was left in the world.

And lying here before her was either the biggest asset or biggest obstacle to that goal. She loathed the position that put her in, hated how much leverage and power that gave him. One final act of spite from Aaron, and they were going to lose the battle against the demons and the rifts.

By extension, any mistakes she made in dealing with him would doom them all as well.

"Get up." Cassandra ordered.

Aaron swung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself up. He didn't seem energetic, but it was a far cry from when he was as slow and feeble as a cold snake the night before.

"You are going to walk ahead of me and follow every instruction I give. Is that understood?" Cassandra said, resting her palm on the pommel of her sword.

"Yes," Aaron nodded.

Cassandra stepped aside. "Then move."

Cassandra followed him to the front doors of the Chantry, ignoring everyone's stares, and stepped into the harsh light of day. The Breach had grown even larger in the night, and seeing it sent another pang of dread and loss through Cassandra. It was so vast, so intractable, and yet all their hopes hinged on such a tiny spark on their mysterious prisoner's hand.

As they headed towards the Haven gate, Cassandra noticed a change in Aaron's behavior. He had started to withdraw in on himself, seemingly trying to shrink away and hide under his hooded mantle, even though he still towered over most people while slouching. She saw his head darting from person to person as they passed by, and he kept his distance from them like a skittish, wary animal. Only after they had passed the soldiers at the gates did he start to move normally again, though he reacted the same way whenever a group of soldiers would rush past them.

Cassandra fought to keep her balance as she walked up the steep and snowy path, her eyes and sword trained unerringly on the back of Aaron's head. She was watching for the tiniest aberration, the slightest flicker of magic. His extreme nervousness around people only served to confirm his guilt. Cassandra knew he would try something the instant she was distracted.

Knowing that she had survived this long only because she erred on the side of caution, Cassandra called upon her own unique Seeker ability, in order to set the Lyrium in Aaron's blood aflame and immobilize him if need be.

She encountered unexpected difficulties. The Breach was clouding her arcane senses. It was a distant, tingling, phantom sensation; as if her abilities were a limb that had fallen asleep. On top of that, she could feel Lyrium-wrought enchantments of extraordinary power blazing throughout Aaron's armor like miniature suns, but beyond those, she could sense nothing from him, like he was a blank void in space—or someone who was not even a mage or a templar at all. It would have been far more reassuring if she could feel a weak power from him, but nothing? It was incredibly unnerving.

Could he be canceling out my own abilities? Is he that powerful?

Cassandra started to become paranoid that her abilities couldn't overpower his. Without question, he would have to be a maleficar of incredible arcane might to be able to create the Breach. However, she should have been able to subdue his weakened magic by using her Seeker abilities. The elven apostate had assured her that Aaron's mana, inasmuch as it could even be detected, must have been depleted by the Mark on his hand. She certainly sensed no great reserve of mana in him, not that such a thing would be an impediment to a blood mage. Seekers were supposed to be immune to blood magic's mind-controlling abilities, but if she couldn't sense him, it raised the question of whether that immunity had limits. If he were to bite his tongue to use blood magic…

Cassandra was slowly convincing herself to just kill him, and be done with it. The realization that she was doing this gave her pause. Was this her rage speaking? Was it her fear? Or was it really a prudent action? Leliana and Solas seemed to think he could stop this, but what if he took the opportunity to make things even worse?

It wasn't as if her hatred wasn't justified. Even after killing Most Holy and the entire Conclave, the coward hid himself behind a bear's pelt and fine armor made of extravagantly expensive silverite, no doubt looted from the corpse of some hapless nobleman or Chevalier. Just another crime he had to pay for…

No. There will be time to kill you later. Cassandra thought as she watched the maleficar. But for now, you are our only hope of containing the catastrophe you unleashed.

Cassandra's lip curled when Aaron started speaking to her.

"If the Breach causes the Mark to flare again, please don't take that as a hostile action and attack me again. I have no control over it." Aaron said slowly, in an odd affect that almost made him sound simple, but for the words being said. Was he being condescending?

"If this is some kind of trick…" Cassandra let the threat hang.

"It isn't. If I start convulsing, don't think it is a trick or try to help me. There's nothing you can do anyway. I thought it would be best for both of us if I told you this beforehand, instead of making an excuse after the fact." he said, as calmly as if he were discussing the weather.

The attempt to sound calm and reasonable reminded Cassandra of Varric's little games, making himself out to be the persecuted victim, but Aaron lacked Varric's veneer of charm.

"I can see what you're doing. Cooperating. Acting polite, offering minor concessions, trying to convince me to trust you. It won't work. If you were just some innocent bystander, there's no way you could have survived, when—" Cassandra checked her voice before it could crack, "—When everyone else died."

"I don't know if it was a coincidence or not." Aaron insisted, his hoarse words growing a little faster. "I don't even remember the explosion. I just… woke up in a strange place. In hindsight, it seems likely to be the Fade. I had no memory of how I got there. Pieces are still missing. But I do remember that the mark was on my hand, even there."

Cassandra knew he was lying, but she decided to indulge her curiosity. Often, letting a suspect spin their web of lies led to them trapping themselves within. She had not prepared for an interrogation yet, but couldn't pass up the opportunity. "What happened then?"

"The place was wrong. Twisted. I wanted to escape. I remember that I was climbing some sort of steep rock outcropping—which might also have been a staircase—and skittering creatures were pursuing me. At the top was there was a glow, and a woman or some kind of spirit watching me. She was made entirely of light. I reached out to her. That is all I remember." he said.

"Some of the soldiers claim this woman was Andraste, banishing you from the Fade." Cassandra said icily. "And then you somehow fled from our soldiers after you were caught, only coming to us because you are dying. Those are not the actions of an innocent."

Aaron lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Some of the soldiers thought I had caused the Breach, and wanted me executed. I don't believe I did it, so I left. As for the woman, I cannot say. I couldn't even see the glowing woman's features. But my impression at the time was that she was reaching down to help me escape from the creatures."

The tip of Cassandra's sword traced tight little circles in the air as she considered the story. Aaron seemed entirely too calm as he was recounting this; it was like he was wholly detached from the events that would leave any innocent person panicking and rushing to make excuses. Nobody should seem that unconcerned with their own fate.

"Why should I believe you?" Cassandra asked.

The prisoner paused for a moment. "You shouldn't take me at my word alone. I'm aware that I'm telling the truth—as I know it, at least—but there is no way for you to know that. However, if you act as an objective observer, you can find evidence to either corroborate or disprove my claims. If I tell you what I expect you will find in advance, and you find it, then perhaps a measure of trust can be established."

The anger returned to Cassandra in full force. "Are you telling me how to investigate your own crime?!"

The hooded head shook from side to side. "No. My testimony is not a factor you could trust, so nothing I say matters in the absence of evidence."

That damnably slow, calm tone again. Cassandra had no idea what Aaron was trying to accomplish anymore. He wasn't even pretending to believe he was innocent. In fact, he seemed to be agreeing with her investigative instincts, which was unprecedented as far as her suspects were concerned.

"Did you say you were Orlesian...?" Cassandra asked suspiciously.

"I'm not. Why? Do I seem Orlesian?" said Aaron, sounding almost self-conscious.

"Aside from hiding your face, not particularly. It's that you simply reek of the Game. All the lying and scheming and hidden meanings." Cassandra said with disgust.

The prisoner slumped slightly. "Really? That's disheartening. I strive to be honest in all things."

Cassandra had to exert considerable will to restrain herself from bashing his smug, mocking head in. "Of course you do. So, where is it you are from?"

"The Frostbacks," he said immediately.

Cassandra's strained patience was nearing its end. "You are a hidden apostate, yet you dress like a Chevalier, sound like a beast, dissemble like an Orlesian noble, and carry a shard of the Fade in your hand. If you expect me to believe that you're from some backwater village or Avvar tribe—"

At that moment, the Breach lit up with lightning and spewed out several Fade-meteors. One of the meteors streaked overhead, clipping treetops and impacting the hill just opposite of them with the force of an explosion. Chips of ice and frozen dirt flecked Cassandra's exposed skin, and the white powder blinded her for a moment.

When it cleared, she could see that the prisoner was crumpled on the ground in a heap, clutching at the blazing mark and shaking with pain. He was making strained choking noises, as though he couldn't even draw in breath to scream properly. Cassandra felt a brief moment of satisfaction at his suffering, but her attention was quickly forced away.

The green, glowing crater was within a stone's throw, and began churning and boiling unnaturally. Cassandra grabbed her shield from her back. There was no way she could drag the prisoner away fast enough to avoid the demons. As disgusting as it was to defend the helpless reprobate, she would fight.

Two wisps and a shade seemingly erupted out of nowhere, but before they could approach, one of the wisps suddenly sprouted several thin shafts of wood, and burst into motes of green light.

Cassandra spared a quick glance at the hill to the north, where she saw Varric descending towards them at a precisely measured rhythm, smoothly shooting his crossbow Bianca again and again as he did.

Cassandra could see the creatures' attention turning towards him as well. She bellowed at them, then charged.

With a warbling howl, the shade lifted its arms overhead and slashed down at Cassandra's shield, its claws strong enough to score the metal, but Cassandra and Varric's combined efforts managed to tear into its thick hide and kill it. The wisp followed shortly thereafter, but not before it managed to hit Cassandra with several nauseating blasts of spirit energy.

Varric shouldered Bianca and sauntered over as Aaron picked himself up out of the snow, leaning against his knees.

"Is everyone all right?" Varric called out.

"Atrast vala, salroka. I'll live. Thank you." Aaron said between labored breaths.

Cassandra stared at him in confusion. He was apprehensive around everyone else, yet around Varric he acted relieved? Did the two know each other? And where did Aaron learn ancient dwarven greetings, of all things?

Varric looked between him and Cassandra, his eyes bright despite the grim set of his mouth. "Ah, so this is the foundling that turned up at the chantry door, Seeker. You have him shackled? Do you really think this was all the work of him?"

"You would think he was innocent, Varric." Cassandra said, rubbing a steadily growing headache at her temples. "I suppose your opinion is not swayed by the fact that he was found falling out of the Fade itself in the very center of the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or the fact that he just so happens to be an apostate in hiding, or the fact that that the mark on his hand is directly linked to the Breach in the sky?"

Varric held up his hands. "Hey, I'm just saying, if I were going to blow up the Conclave, I wouldn't blow myself up with it, unless I was utterly devoted and suicidal. And if I was utterly devoted and suicidal, I wouldn't surrender and cooperate. That apostate elf is right, this doesn't seem like his doing."

"That's a good point," Aaron said. "But I did survive, intentionally or not, and my amnesia complicates matters. It's possible I somehow destroyed the Conclave and forgot how I did it, that I did it, and why—not that I consider that possibility at all likely, but it still bears investigating."

"I… what?" Varric blinked, caught off guard.

Cassandra gave both of them a scorching glare, first Aaron, then Varric. "Clearly, something went wrong. Why are you here, Varric?"

"Well, when that guy Solas said you were bringing him to the rift, I thought that if you're going to escort someone supposedly powerful enough to tear open a giant hole into the Fade," he said, using the hand that wasn't holding Bianca to gesture in a wide circle, "then you might want some extra help."

"That's a very good point," Aaron reiterated unhelpfully.

"Varric, I—just stop! Our leaders are dead, our forces are collapsing, and I'm the only one here that is immune to the mind control this suspected maleficar could use to escape! What would you have me do?!" Cassandra said, throwing up her arms in exasperation.

"Excuse me," the prisoner said, raising a long finger, "But if I were a blood mage that wanted to escape—and I'm not—I would have already taken control of him and made him shoot you. And if I hadn't thought of that yet, I would have done so after you raised the possibility. You really shouldn't give your prisoners ideas."

Varric barked out an incredulous laugh. "Maker's balls, I'll have to remember that one."

"That would be your last mistake." Cassandra said lowly to Aaron. "You would be dead before the spell could even form."

Varric tapped his chin thoughtfully. "You know, while we're giving out free advice, Seeker, if you want the prisoner to help you, you could at least pretend to offer him a chance at proving his innocence. Telling him you've decided his guilt already doesn't help."

Aaron turned from Cassandra to Varric and back. "If I were you, I actually would listen to him."

"Fine." Cassandra gritted out. "You may join us, Varric, the rift is not far from here. But before we argue about it, let us first see if the mark on the prisoner's hand actually can help us."

"Sensible. There's only one way to find out," Aaron said quietly.

On that uncertain note, the three of them set off towards the enormous Breach coiling into the sky.


A/N

Cassandra and Varric are starting to catch on that there is something really off about this Aaron guy. In other news, I have received my first review! Thank you, Math725e, and thanks to everyone who favorites and subscribes. And a big thanks to the good folks over at Bioware who created the world of Thedas. Stay tuned for a Varric POV chapter next week!