Chapter 2: Condemnation
The effect of her opening the Rift was instantaneous.
Not only did Shades pour out by the buckets but a powerful Pride Demon crawled its way out. She hacked and slashed and used whatever magic she could to weaken the Pride Demon and residing Shades. Many of the soldiers had fallen by then. None of her compatriots had fallen by then. Owing to their experience.
That was when she heard a roar through the rift.
In that second, in a flash of light, a golden lion with armor appeared.
Katja raised her voice in glee, "Havardr‼"
The majestic lion spirit had a twinkle in its glowing yellow eyes.
"Did you think that I wouldn't be here to aid you Snow Kitten?" he purred at her.
She laughed through her battle-high and jumped onto his armored back.
She didn't bother to look on her compatriots surprised expressions as both she and Havardr attacked the Pride Demon. Him with tooth and claw and she with her spirit sword and bow. After the band's initial surprise did they join in the throng to bring down the Demon.
The Demon went down on one knee in fatigue and that was when Havardr leapt onto it, jaws secure around the demon's throat. In one violent action, crushed and snapped it's neck.
He roared in victory that shook the earth with her shouting with him, her ethereal sword raised.
She climbed down from her perch on his back.
With silent acknowledgement, he leapt into the Rift. Once he was gone did Katja raise her hand and the power flowed out from her mark. The moment painful, much more than the smaller rifts she closed. It felt as though her whole being was being sucked into the Rift.
Black spots dotted her vision as it dragged on. She went to one knee, from both the pain and fatigue. She vaguely heard voices but she was unable to discern what they were saying.
In a sudden movement, the Rift closed and so did her awareness.
The earth shattered and shook from the force of the explosion. Sickly green light popped and whirled from the Breach. The light that emanated from the Rift ceased. The Rift was closed.
The Commander sighed in relief. One part of the problem was solved.
All around him – soldiers, refugees, the injured – saw the closing and raised their voices high in joy. One battle was won. But from experience, the Commander knew that whatever war this was, it was far from over. There was much to do.
For now, he was more concerned about treating his injured soldiers and vanquishing any estranged demons – while fighting off a headache that sent pulses through his skull. He paced around the forward camp purposefully, giving orders and receiving reports. Keeping his mind busy off unwanted territory.
It kept his thoughts away from the Prisoner.
Many unanswered questions were left in the Commander's mind about her.
His templar training at full front when he realized, in the heat of the battle, that she was a mage. The Veil-pull was strong whenever she casted a spell – he even briefly admitted to himself that the ethereal sword she forged was amazing. He only ever saw that display with Knight-Enchanters. Another question for another time.
A messenger begged his attention, "Commander! Lady Cassandra and her party are on their way. They were spotted not far from here."
"Good, open the gates immediately once they arrive."
He put a fist on his chest and was dismissed to follow orders.
Moments later, he heard a commotion at the gate. He had to raise his voice over the crowd for him to pass through to Cassandra. What he saw put his heart on ice.
Cassandra was carrying the prisoner. Her face deathly pale and her lips almost blue. The green mark on her hand dim.
"Commander, we need horses immediately! We need to take her back to Haven so Solas can heal her." Cassandra rushed out; eyes darting, purposeful.
He didn't think, he reacted.
Shouting for the horses; running with the rest to the make-shift stables. Lady Cassandra took the two that was already saddled and practically leapt on one with the prisoner at the front. Solas and Varric on the other. With great speed, they rushed in a flurry of fallen, caked snow to Haven.
It wasn't until the next morning that he was able to get to Haven to get debriefed from Cassandra on what happened at the Temple.
What she told him put him on edge about the prisoner. Now, quite possibly the only person that could close the Breach was on death's door. Both Solas and the herbalist are doing what they can. They both agreed to pay a visit to see about her condition.
Outside there was a large crowd of people. Some whispering to each other about the person inside the hut-house. Through the crowd he was able to hear 'The Herald of Andraste is in there'. He mentally filed that in.
Inside the small hut-house, it was blazing warm from the hearth. Solas was hunched over her casting small spells on her injuries and the herbalist was making a potion.
She was bundled from the thick blankets from the bed. Her breathing ragged. From his memory of yesterday on the former-templar's mind – she had regained some color though not much, and there were dark circles around her eyes and her lips still pale. The brownness from her hair was gone, leaving a snow white color that hung limply from her head.
She looked like hell.
The elf noticed them and once he was finished with his spell did he approach them.
"How does Katja fair Solas?" she inquired quietly.
The Commander filed in the prisoner's name. Katja.
"Badly. She has regained only a tiny portion of her spirit and what is left is dim. That small spirit that is left is fighting furiously. Not only that, but the massive exertion from closing the Rift has caused physical wounds. We've managed to heal the most severe."
The Commander noticed the weariness on the elf's demeanor. He highly doubted that in the last day he got little respite – fearing the worst.
"But that is small in comparison to my larger concern."
"Which is?"
"Her mental wards against possession are gone."
Both the Commander's and Seeker's alarm bells were ringing. Old, templar training regimens repeating in Cullen's head.
"The necessary energy and concentration to maintain those have been poured into sustaining her life energy. I've tried a roundabout way to erect wards to protect her in her weakened state – but that has proved fruitless. Each time her spirit flares and attacks."
Both warrior's faces grew grim at the news.
"Is there anything at all you can think of that would help?" Cullen asked. "The last thing that needs to happen is for our only chance of closing the Breach it to be possessed."
"Agreed Commander. It is possible that she is residing within the Fade until she regains her strength to awaken. It is risky on her part, for she is weak enough to be possessed easily – without consent."
"Why would she choose to go to the Fade? Wouldn't she be at greater risk there?"
"Yes Cassandra, but I have a theory as to why. Remember that spirit that came through the Rift to assist us?"
The Seeker nodded.
"I gather from their reactions to each other that she is very familiar with this particular spirit. And that this spirit is protecting her in the Fade. What better way to be protected from possession than by a spirit? You saw how easy it killed the Pride Demon Cassandra.
"I will go into the Fade and try to locate her." The elf volunteered, "However, I need you two to stand guard should the worst happen. Adan will monitor."
The stern, middle-aged herbalist stood with the potion that he was concocting, nodding his consent.
"I hope this works Solas. For her sake and ours." The Seeker tiredly stated.
All of them hoping that what Solas described was the case.
The Commander was weary of the elf's plan. He would admit that he didn't know that much about spirits in comparison to the elf. From his understanding and Cassandra's trust. Though he prayed that was the case. That the spirit as Solas described and Cassandra witnessed was indeed protecting the former prisoner.
Katja, her name is Katja.
The elf took his place on the chair he was sitting at earlier and closed his eyes.
Both warrior's found perspective places to stand guard. Ready for any change – either for good or ill. The herbalist took a chair next to Solas and waited.
For a good while they waited.
It gave the Commander the much needed quiet to think on their situation.
It didn't stop him and his growing worry. She was a mage and she interacted with spirits. She was an apostate. Possibly a well versed and adept one. Never gone through a Harrowing. More than likely had a distanced tolerance of templars. Strange events of her coming to pass with the strange mark on her hand. The only survivor of an explosion that killed the Divine.
And yet…
He didn't think her responsible.
As strange as it may seem, he had a growing suspicion that she was not a part of it. A hunch. They all had too little information to determine anything, but he was certain she had nothing to do with it. More than unlikely.
He was still wary of her – the whole apostate mage part. Old habits are hard to break or replace. Cullen knew that not all mages are created equal. But it still left him with his suspicious nature toward mages regardless.
Now that he has seen her – moon hair and ruby red eyes – something stirred within him. Like a half-forgotten memory. A muffled, distant feeling within him trickled that she seemed familiar, but he couldn't place where or when. Just as the feeling came, it vanished like an old spider web in the wind. Leaving the lingering tendrils vacant.
Cullen went back to his old regimes when he used to watch mages during the grave-yard shift back in the Order. Playing chest in his head. He stiffened lightly and held the hilt of his sword when a headache wave came up suddenly. His chest game falling apart. Forgetting what moves he made, he mentally re-read reports that were given to him earlier.
The elf's face contorted to one of pain. All of them rapt at attention. Just as sudden as his face contorted did it fade back into calmness.
They continued their waiting game. Every once in a while the herbalist would check them and deeming them fine or would drip some water into Katja's mouth, then, would go back to his chair.
In the middle of the waiting session, Varric decided to pay a visit.
The dwarf's mood was grim and asked what was going on. In brief, informative sentences Cassandra filled him in. He too, took a spot to wait for the elf to awaken with either good news or bad.
Cullen remembered the dwarf. He was at Kirkwall with the Champion. Though, he admittedly knew little of him.
It wasn't until the room started to dim into a golden hue from the setting sun that the elf awoken from his dreams.
He took a deep breath, relief in his voice, "We can breathe easier now. It was as I suspected."
The tension in the room broke.
"Then that spirit is protecting her?" asked Cassandra.
"Yes, and the spirit's name is Havardr. We won't need to worry about her being possessed. There was already a pile of dead demons that have already tried." Respite and weariness in the elf's voice.
"That's a relief then." Said Varric in a more upbeat tone.
"Yes, considering that I was almost made tranquil when I tried to approach. She managed to halt the spirit when she recognized me." Solas said banefully.
"That… explains why your body tensed in pain earlier." The Seeker stated.
"Yes, it was … quite the experience. She said, in colorful terms, that she's sorry for making everyone worry and that once her strength returns she will awaken."
The dwarf got up from his chair, "Well Chuckles, when Kitten does wake up she might find she had shouldered more responsibilities than she is resigning to deal with."
The elf furrowed his brows in question.
The former-templar sighed, "There is a large crowd of people right outside this door. They are calling her the 'Herald of Andraste'."
Shock went through the elf's face as he gasped, "Oh."
Warmth, blessed warmth and comfort. Ease and tranquility.
Also a burning, ravenous hunger.
Her stomach growled fiercely; protesting it's emptiness.
Katja raised her eyes lazily. She felt like she had been run over by a Druffalo – several – multiple times. But, she did promise to awaken once her strength returned to her. It had and she was glad for it. For several days, she guessed, she spent in the Fade with a worrying lion spirit. It would have been more appropriate if he was in the form of a giant hen instead. She loved Harvardr, but he could be a worrier.
She tenderly stretched her limbs. Plying them out of soreness and disuse.
Someone opened the door and out of habit, she shot up to see who came in without knocking.
Katja's reflex scared the poor elf-girl into dropping the box she was carrying. Potions from the sound of the glass.
"I'm so sorry! I didn't know you were awake!"
Katja focused her eyes and to steady her beating heart. She then came to a horrid realization.
Who the fuck changed my clothes!? Where's my armor!?
She was dressed in a supple leather tunic and breeches trimmed with gold buckles.
She came out of her thoughts when the elf-girl went to the ground in a bow.
In a worried voice she spoke, "I am but a humble servant. I ask for your forgiveness and your blessing mistress! If you need anything, you just need to ask."
That freaked her out when she bowed. Why would she bow?!
"It's ah, uh, fine. Is the Rift closed?" She tentively asked.
"Yes mistress. The Rift closed thanks to you."
She sighed out, it was as Solas said it was. "What of the Breach?"
"The Breach remains, although it is calm for the moment mistress." The elf-girl rose from her spot on the floor, and made small steps to the door, "Lady Cassandra said that if you awaken to meet her in the Chantry. 'At once' she said." And she ran out the door, leaving Katja to herself.
Okay Katja was a little freaked. From waking up with the possibility that some asshole made off with her armor. Armor that she put in some sweat to make! And that elf-girl's reaction to her.
She needed answers. Though she wouldn't get it from sitting in a bed. Even a comfortable, warm one.
Once she had risen, she stretched languidly. Her stomach growled. Upon closer inspection of the box the elf-girl dropped. It was some potions but also a small bowl of soup and a half a loaf of bread.
Oh yes!
That Cassandra can wait five minutes so she can scarf down some grub.
She ate the food merrily and set the box down on the desk opposite of her bed. Happy over having a full stomach she would gladly go and see what else is going on.
Eyeing the fur fennec cloak that hung from a hanger by the door, she dawned it and opened the door.
She nearly had a heart attack and wanted to melt into the snow clad ground.
Everyone in camp was looking at her. Their fists over their chests. Everyone – soldiers dawned in armor to peasants in cloth.
Holy Andraste's teats …
She slowly made her way through the path separating both sides of the crowd. Eyes glued to her in reverence. The same people that earlier was cursing her – and from the whispers she caught – was now admiring her. She pulled the cloak closer around her to protect her from the intrusive, worshiping eyes.
"That's her, the Herald of Andraste." One would say.
"Who knew Andraste herself would send a mage to save us?" another would say.
As the whispered praise continued she slowly began to walk faster to the Chantry until the main body of the crowd was behind her. Heat flooded her cheeks from the unwanted attention.
Dodging into the Chantry, she closed the doors to block out the eyes of the crowd.
She took a deep breath. Hands on the door to keep intruders out. The Chantry was blessedly quiet. Didn't even hear the murmured prayers of the faithful. The light a little dim to encourage contemplation of the parishioners. Two fully armored guards stood idly at the ends of the doors.
"You've seen the crowd?"
Skin nearly peeled off of her. Katja nearly twisted her head off to the sound of the voice.
It was Cassandra.
She groaned, "Someone could have warned me about that." Beside her was the Grand Chancellor and the templar.
"It's not like you deserve there reverence." Sneered the Chancellor, "Guards! Seize her, I want her ready to be transported to Val Royeaux."
She rolled her eyes, she the two guards by the entrance of the Chantry. They didn't have a care to move.
"Disregard that soldiers. Leave us. No one is to enter until otherwise." Said the templar.
They fisted on their armored chests and went outside.
Both the templar and Seeker glared at the Chancellor. He stomped off to the back of the Chantry. The three of them fallowed suit. Katja keeping an extra eye on the templar.
"How is your mark?" Cassandra asked.
"Well," she supposed, "it's stopped spreading and I'm not in pain every five seconds."
The warrior woman nodded, "Good, take victories where you can."
They went into the back room of the Chantry where the wooden door was promptly closed by the templar. She saw that Leliana was waiting patiently and the Chancellor continued his death glares at her. Which she mentally bounced off.
"You are all treading dangerously." The Chancellor sneered.
Cassandra's voice pressed, "The Breach is still a threat. I will not ignore it."
Katja rolled her eyes. So it seems she is still a suspect to the Chantry, "So even after I almost died I'm still a suspect to you?"
"You most certainly are."
"No, she is most certainly not." The templar exasperated. "Why would she go through the trouble of causing all this havoc if she died in the process? I saw her when she was in her coma – she was practically at death's door. And from Lady Cassandra's account, she didn't even hesitate to aid us in closing the Breach even when everyone thought her guilty."
Katja was surprised at the rigorousness of the templar's defense of her. She felt an odd mixture of alertness and placidness. It was irrational of her to have those mixed feelings, and she knew it was because she saw him as a templar. Even when those small bits of evidence points otherwise. Not all templars were like them.
Though, she would try to explore it at a later date.
Leliana stepped forward, "Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others – or have allies who yet live."
That threw a loop into the Chancellor's brain, "I am a suspect?!"
"You. And many others."
He pointed a condemning finger at Katja, "But not the Prisoner?!"
"I heard the voices in the Temple. The Divine called out to her for help."
He shook his head in disbelief and crossed his arms, "So her survival, that thing on her hand – all a coincidence?"
"Providence." The Seeker interjected, "The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour."
A little too deep in Katja's eyes, "Ah, I am a mage ya know. An apostate one to boot."
"I know that." She frowned at her response, "Despite that, or your beliefs, you were what we needed when we needed it."
Katja saw her go to the back of the room to grab something.
"Your mark is still our only hope of closing the Breach." Leliana concluded firmly.
"That is not for you to decide!"
It was then that the Seeker immerged from the dark corner of the room and slammed a thick tome with the mark of the Seeker embossed on the cover on to the table.
"Do you know what this is Chancellor?" she pointed to the tome with upmost seriousness, "A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."
The Chancellor's eyes widened at her proclamation.
The Seeker waved her hand authoritatively at him and told him in her most serious 'this is how it will be' voice, "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval."
The Chancellor, thoroughly chastened, left the room – slamming the door behind him.
"This is the Divine's directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos." There was no doubt in Leliana's demeanor of what the Divine wanted, but that task was daunting, "We aren't ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and no Chantry support."
"But we have no choice: we must act now. With you at our side."
Ah, what come again? Me?
"Ugh, what is the 'Inquisition of old'?"
She briefly explained that it was a group under a common banner predating the Chantry to keep order. It turned into the Templar Order but they have lost their way. A point that Katja agreed on.
"Is this a Holy War?"
That she could not say whether it was holy but it was defiantly a war. The war part she agreed on. Though, it did seem unlikely to her that it was even 'holy'.
Katja remembered her time in the Fade with Havardr.
He gave her cryptic messages about the goings-on in Thedas. That her niche in the world is about to change. She recognized it as fits of foresight that he was prone to. Though, in the past, they were small in comparison.
"You stand on a precipice on a mountain Snow Kitten." His endearment ringing, "Multitudes of you clad in steel will stand with you as the sky burns. None of them as bright as you. The center of the fiery whirlwind is a shadow cloaked in red glass. With your scar pointed to the burning sky. Two choices you are given: Destroy or heal."
She had a strange sense of compression as those words echoed in her mind.
The three of them were looking at her in trepidation – quietly holding their breaths.
Katja didn't like the attention. Though she felt on odd sense of what? Destiny? Divinity? She wasn't sure. She would hold off on the war-front, but that Breach thing was the forefront of her concerns. If she brought some semblance of peace to her home in the process? I'd be icing to the whole damn mess. Maybe getting rid of the mark on her hand along the way. Having a glowing body part would be troublesome when she would go out hunting.
"This is rather strange ya know."
