CHAPTER 8: THE EXORCISM OF HAVEN
Hello everyone. Back again for another chapter. I'd like to thank everyone who has given me feedback thus far. It really means a lot that you care enough about the story to give criticism, good or bad. Obviously I can't promise that I can course correct any grievances you might have but I'll do my best within the parameters of the story I wish to tell. Anyway, enough rambling... On with the show…
FLASHBACK
Orzammar, Diamond Quarter
Stepping back into the underground thaig brought back nightmares for Lucas, still shivering whenever his mind wandered to the Deep Roads and the expedition that nearly ended them all. How he managed to survive along with Marian, he did not dare question. The letter he sent that day to Leliana was one of numbness, darkspawn hordes no longer conjuring anything more than a shrug. As he continued towards his intended destination, all he could muster was the idea of being so used, so acclimated to violence on such a fundamental level. 'Was I becoming one of them? So used to seeing it to be able to dish it out in equal doses?' he pondered with a shudder, the mere thought sending chills down his spine.
Regardless, the Diamond Quarter's most secretive smith awaited his arrival and he was certainly not going to keep waiting the only dwarf in the city that could help him with this particular predicament. Looking down at his firearm safely tucked inside his clothes, he sauntered over to an adorned stone door with the carving of a large hammer over the frame and pried it open with a grunt, pushing into Garnock's workshop, the door rumbling with each inch pushed inwards.
"Hello? Garnock? It's the Seer!" Lucas hollered, using his hands to funnel his voice like a loudspeaker. The place looked like an infernal mess. Some scattered notes were strewn across the coffee table in the center of the room and a heavy musk of alcohol wafted in the air. He wanted to attribute it to the nearby bar but he never even got that far before he had to pinch his nose to mask the smell entering his nostrils.
"In the back, laddie!" Garnock replied, toiling away at the forge like any other dwarven smith would. Like most dwarves, Garnock sported a braided beard that nearly touched the base of his legs, a miracle considering the possible fire hazard it remained. The red-haired short individual brushed some sweat from his brows, moping up the dirt on his fingers with a handy cloth he had left aside for that very purpose.
"You dwarves ever hear of spring cleaning?" Lucas mused with a snort, eyes scanning the room Garnock called his humble abode. Tons of tools lay scattered left and right, not at all organized by any known system. Books on the variances and layers of forge mastery were equally scattered, some of them even missing pages that had been torn out and scribbled on in Garnock's signature handwriting.
"I work better like this." Garnock replied dryly.
"Sure… I can certainly see the appeal of working in a pig-sty." Lucas noted with thinly veiled disgust, instinct making his eyes twitch down to his feet as if to check if he had stepped into something really icky. Garnock didn't reply, only the dull sound of the beating hammer against the forge his answer.
"Alright, alright… I'll cut to the chase. You have my items ready?" Lucas spoke bluntly.
"Here you go. Finest things I ever crafted." Garnock handed him a small case. Setting it down on the table, Lucas cracked it open and peered into its contents. Inside, ten rows of rounds for his pistol were neatly filed into the container. Aside from that, Lucas also noticed some ammunition placed separately from the pack, denoted with red, blue and brown markings on the casings. 'Must have really taken that experimenting to heart...' Lucas noted, making a mental reminder to test fire these puppies when he got the chance.
"Once again, Garnock…" Lucas nodded, closing the case and setting it aside on a nearby table. "You've outdone yourself. Here, your pay." Lucas tossed into Garnock's hands a sizeable purse bulging to the brim with gold and silver coins. The dwarf's grubby fingers wrapped around the cloth pouch, eyes glinting at the weight of the gold in his hand.
"I hope you haven't come with any more requests. People are starting to talk. Saying I'm hiding valuable secrets from the King. Plus, I have some curious little gang lord breathing down me stones for some gear. I need a break or else I'm going to be a surface dwarf faster than ol' Oghren can chug a flask."
"I can deal with the gang lord." Lucas offered, tapping his pistol in get his point across. Garnock didn't even seem to bat an eye.
"With your gear? Not to belittle your odds, but wouldn't that draw attention?" the dwarf countered, continuing to hammer away at his latest project, flickers of embers sparking off with each hit on the anvil.
"Good point. Got a smith who's really terrible?" Lucas mused, pointing towards the door behind his shoulder, finger wagging in that general direction.
"I know a bloke. Last I heard, he was stealing more schematics from some of the smiths in the Quarter. You ain't gonna kill him, are ya?" Garnock's eyebrow raised as the last few words left his lips.
"No, that would be excessive. No, I just want to thank him for his services in maintaining my hardware. That should set tongues wagging." Lucas bluntly said, smugly grinning as he laid out the plan. 'I think Leliana's rubbing off on me…' he dryly chuckled, the thought passing through his mind.
"Hehehe… See you next month, Seer." Garnock chuckled heartily, waving to Lucas as he continued to busy himself in his work.
"Stay safe, Garnock." Lucas waved back, stepping out of the workshop, case in tow. He still had the better part of a year before he had to return to Kirkwall to deal with the Qunari. Already, his mind was planning what he wanted to do next. Whatever he could to better prepare himself for what was to follow.
Haven Outskirts, Inquisition Camp
The journey back home was a silent affair, aside from the occasional animal attack on their camp from time to time. Throughout all that, Leliana continued to worry over Lucas' state of mind, withdrawn as he was whenever she was near. It took nearly all her resolve not to go to Alexius and beat the living hell out of him, to demand what kind of sorcery he had performed on her beloved. Yet, the night she finally had some nerve, Alexius only replied with kind words, even as his nose was bleeding a little from Leliana's first blow. Subsequent visits revealed bit by bit the truth behind Lucas' pained state, a story she had to share with two grumbling guards forced to do work thanks to the spymaster. 'Maybe I should just let him heal. Maker can only imagine what he had to do…' Leliana watched him silently one night as he made to retire to his own tent. 'I wonder what I did that warranted such a grisly fate? I'm too afraid to ask…' she continued to ponder as the embers slowly died away to yet another night on the road home to Haven.
"A word, Seer?" Vivienne's sweet tone echoed in Lucas' drooped ears as the band marched into Haven proper, causing the Seer to stop dead in his tracks. 'Oh, great. What now?' he paused to think. Vivienne merely beckoned with his hand to follow after her. Seeing as he had nothing better to do, Lucas followed after him, shooting Leliana an apologetic look as he left her sight. Vivienne led the Seer to her own private quarters, a small little slice of home away from home. She had wasted no time in decorating the room with her own Orlesian touch, dashes of high fashion and excessive wealth hitting every part of Lucas' weary eyes. Marching towards a nearby seat, Vivienne sat down on it, crossing her legs beneath her mage robes.
"I would like to understand your opinion of me." She pointedly asked him.
"What's there to understand? And why do you care?" he answered warily. 'If I know Vivienne, she's not one to ask for the opinions of others regarding her demeanor.' Lucas backed up his concerns in a split second.
"Darling, when you're the supposed messenger of the Maker, it is in my best interests to keep in your good graces. I may have some power at my fingertips, but certainly not as much as you do."
"Can this wait? The ritual's tomorrow and I still need to speak with the others about Redcliffe." Lucas said, arms crossed over one another as he looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"It won't take long, Darling." Her tone was sweet, yet still he felt a chill roll down his spine. 'Well, might as well tickle her fancy…' he sighed, leaning forward in his chair and locking eyes with Vivienne.
"Fine… Ask away, Vivienne."
"So, you have a very low opinion of the Game." Vivienne cut to the chase, tapping once on her desk with added emphasis on the word.
"Gee, what gave it away? And before you ask, Leliana is fully aware of my hatred for the Game." Lucas hurriedly amended, not wanting to give her the pleasure of finding loopholes in his statements.
"I see. Are you under the impression that I take too much pleasure in the politics of the Orlesian court?"
"I don't hate you, if that's what you're implying. I just…. Hate… how something that could affect lives beyond their own can be taken… with such cavalier attitudes." Lucas paused, considering his words.
"Not all who participate in the Game have the aptitude… or the subtlety to play the role they need." Vivienne drolly remarked. 'So, his concern is for the common people. Well, at least his heart is in the right place, even if he believes in such naïve concepts…' she remarked. Despite the brutality the Game might depict to the average citizen, it's a necessary endeavor to building a better governing body. To her at least…
"Look, let me just lay it out. My only gripe with you is your apparent… thirst for power. A way to fix things that when powerless you could not."
"My dear, without power, you can't do anything." Vivienne retorted, eyes seemingly looking around the room and towards the window, where outside hundreds of Templars, mages and soldiers were gathering to prepare for the ceremony. All a sign of how power can help people, especially in times such as these…
"Power does not mean everything, Vivienne. I knew someone like you. Thought she could have everything she wanted without consequences, for her or the others she cared about. She tried to use power to earn her place, to fix the world. And it only got worse…" Lucas retorted, thinking of Morrigan's little quest for knowledge and power.
"I assure you, Lucas… I'm not like your friend." Vivienne responded.
"How cliché…" Lucas sarcastically commented, stepping out and leaving Vivienne to mull over his words. Her resolve remained as steely as ever, though she wondered who or what exactly had jaded the young man? 'Awfully judgmental at such a young age… I suppose everyone must have a hobby…' Vivienne ruminated as she picked up her tea cup and took a light sip from it as she leaned back in her chair, ready to pick up her work where she left off.
Not long after, Lucas had to drag himself down to the war room, seemingly to concur on the reports he and Dorian came up with. It was hard to write it on the trip back to Haven, often conjuring nightmares on the days Lucas forced himself to write it. He could have left the bulk of the work to Dorian, but it didn't seem fair. Plus, he wanted to ensure that Alexius' bravery in his future was taken into account so that his trial would go much more smoothly with Maxwell. As he entered the room, he saw both Josephine and Cullen sitting at the front of the table, Leliana and Cassandra absent from the proceedings.
"So, what happened in Redcliffe? The report was vague… to say the least." Cullen began to ask, quill in hand.
"We travelled through time. We escaped. Isn't that enough?" Lucas answered bluntly, not wishing to bore them with belabored details he had already provided in his report.
"Dorian mentioned that you had to… kill someone?" Josephine asked him, a sense of trepidation catching in the diplomat's tone. Instantly, Lucas felt the color in his face drain. It was just… too recent to even think about it.
"I had no choice… I had no choice." Lucas murmured loud enough to be heard, staring blankly at the two of them with weary eyes.
"I understand." Cullen nodded, scribbling a line or two down in front of him. As the memory started to take root again, Lucas felt the urge to leave, to not speak even another word of it if he could…
"Sorry, I… I can't do this right now. Can we… reconvene or something like that? After we close the Breach?" Lucas wiped the tear from his eye, slowly rising from his seat. Both Cullen and Josephine seemingly nodded to one another, thinking that would be a much appropriate time to broach the subject.
"Sure." Cullen finally replied, waving Lucas away as he gathered whatever notes he had taken down and made to leave as well. Josephine simply smiled to Lucas before also making her way out of the room, Lucas following behind shortly thereafter.
Lucas instantly rushed to his room and sat down to write a few hours later. It had been a while since he had etched his thoughts into words. And he had that ominous feeling, that instinct in his heart that now more than ever, he would need to document his adventures so that perhaps someone might learn… something from all of this. As the revelries started to take root right outside, he dipped his quill into the ink bottle and began to put thought to paper, lit only by a dim candlelight about a day old sitting on his desk.
I've stopped counting the days. It all just blurs together. Let's just say the 11th year and leave it at that.
Today was the grand day of the closing of the Breach. To describe it…
It was a massive collaborative effort. Hundreds of Templars, dozens of mages… standing side by side. Not one complaint, not one single spell, not one sword raised. I still think it's a dream, that I'm going to wake up tomorrow and see nothing but Haven covered in blood. I've refrained from pinching. This is a dream too good to pass up if it is.
We stood on that pedestal for a few minutes, me and Maxwell. Held our hands up high to the heavens and just… waited while the mages and Templars did their thing. Two brilliant lines of green light shot out of our hands and cast a furtive shadow on the damn green hole in the sky. And just like that… It was gone.
We had won. For now… Obviously this was nothing but a precursor and I knew it. And as they walked back in high spirits, I just… couldn't. It would make sense… but at the same time, Corypheus doesn't need to be given a chance. Maybe I'm overthinking it. He has no army. Even alone, it would be suicide for him. He's blind to anything beyond the scope of his goals but he is far from stupid.
Maybe a drink will help. After everything so far, I'll need one…
It was a time for celebration after all. The Breach was closed. The crisis had been averted by all accounts. Everywhere Lucas went within Haven, thousands of mages, Templars, common folk and soldiers alike were partaking in the festivities. The tavern was overflowing, a conga line of patrons eagerly waiting their drink outside of the bar, rounds of raucous applause and toasts following shortly thereafter. Parties roamed around, talking and chatting like old pals. It warmed his heart a little to see once great enemies conversing like old pals, as if the last few weeks of civil war meant nothing anymore. Maxwell was busy talking with Sera and Iron Bull, regaling them with the tales they wanted to hear. Solas and Dorian spoke amicably to each other, discussing arcane arts of varying import. Cole, the strange spirit called forth that Maxwell had found during his trip to meet the Templars was actively watching him, gazing and no doubt ascertaining every little secret he held within his brain. 'With luck, he'll know well enough not to pry and well enough to keep his mouth shut…' he paused briefly, wondering if Cole read that particular thought as well. Sure enough, the spirit tensed, quickly turning his gaze away towards Blackwell as he drunkenly told tales of his chevalier days.
As Lucas sauntered through the town, a large eruption shook the ground. Everyone stopped. The music from the bards halted entirely, some of them screeching to that immeasurable stop. Soldiers wiped off whatever drink they had left on their mouths and drew their blades, already anticipating the first sign of trouble. Lucas saw Cullen run up towards the walls, prompting him and eventually Maxwell to follow suit.
"What's happening?" Maxwell asked the commander, watching as Cullen surveyed the scene with his telescope. Lucas only saw a massive cloud of snow billowing at the top of the mountain in front of them. Besides them, archers were starting to take their place at the walls, nocking arrows in their bows and taking aim at the horde starting to descend down the mountain.
"An army is on approach to Haven." Cullen bluntly stated, twisting the telescope every now and then with his calloused fingers.
"What? That's impossible. We have both the Templars and the mages with us here. What army could the Elder One muster?" Lucas answered, his flabbergasted response drawing a hint of fear from the Herald. 'What? You mean he doesn't know everything? What in the Maker's name does that mean for us?!' he panicked a little, arms gripping the edges of the barricades with white-knuckled tension.
"Everyone else, it seems." Cullen handed the telescope he was using to see to Maxwell. Gingerly picking up the apparatus, Maxwell pressed his right eye to see. His mouth dropped at the sight. Atop a large mountain overlooking Haven and the valley beyond, a towering behemoth both parts mutilated and withered headlining a massive army. The army was a conglomerate of peasants, shopkeepers, ex-soldiers, deserters, so and so forth. It felt like a swarm of locusts descending to devour all in its path. All he could do to stop from losing his nerve was the fact that other people depended on them. This was no time to lose his shit…
"To your stations! Today, the Inquisition shows its worth! To arms!" Cullen rallied the men and women in fighting shape, jubilantly raising his weapon high above his head in a show of strength. The others all followed suit, their hands holding their weapons high. Only Lucas kept his sense of duty in check, already wondering just what lies Corypheus had passed into his army's ears. If there was anything he could have done to avoid this. Resigned, Lucas raced for the front gates to prepare for battle. 'Guess we didn't have time to man the catapults… Another thing that has changed…' he bit his lower lip when he pondered the facts.
As Lucas raced towards the front gate, dagger drawn to confront the army currently bashing on their door, he reflected yet again on his life up to that point. It was his third time in all of 11 and change years, once during the Battle of Denerim within the confines of Fort Drakon and once right before the confrontation with Meredith's second-in-command. His mind raced through his happiest moments, the moments that mattered to him the most. Few were of his current predicament, the majority of which comprised his life before. As the moment passed, a brief silence was replaced by the sudden roar of a battle cry beyond the wall. The doors burst inwards in splinters, metal and wood flying all over the place and striking one particularly unlucky Inquisition soldier in the chest, knocking him flat on his back. Through the dust kicked up from the explosion, a horde of seemingly shadowy figures rushed forth, a cavalcade of peasants, disgruntled soldiers and mainly the lower class stormed right through.
The Inquisition gamely met the charge, their swords, bows and shields raised as body after body flung themselves against the band of troops in a desperate attempt to slaughter them. Lucas heard people scream all around, individual fights breaking out in front of his very eyes. Yet one particular individual caught his eye. Dressed in relatively plain leather armour, wielding a nice sword and shield was a young man with dark brown hair. His beard was clean shaven and cut, stubble on his chin. His eyes were tired, not shaken with the terrifying red lyrium Lucas had seen before. Moments passed as the two allowed recognition to dawn on them both, but it was the man who stammered the next word.
"Brother?" his tongue wagged in surprise, eyes bulging wide open, arms slacking to his side. It had to be a dream… It had to…
"Ryan?" he said, his eyes looking upon Ryan, the brother he had long since given up on ever seeing again. Several seconds passed before Lucas made to move towards Ryan, wanting to hug him, to feel him, to see if it was a dirty trick, a dream Solas came up with as a joke. The battle cries all around him started to dim, blurry images in his perspective while his brother remained in full focus.
And then, an arrow came soaring past his head. He had no time to react, no time to move before Ryan stumbled back, an arrow jutting out of his chest…
"No, no, no… No…" Lucas watched in abject horror, his eyes tearing up in slow motion. Ryan, still in shock looked down at his armor, the back end of the arrow jutting out like a sore thumb. Blood started to trickle into his mouth, an odd gurgling noise forming at his teeth. He wasn't just dying from the wound. He was drowning in his own blood. By instinct, Lucas spun his head around to meet their attacker. His heart sank and what he had once viewed with affectionate love, he saw as rage and pain. Standing atop one of the tents was Leliana, having just loosed the arrow, looking extremely relieved. To all extents and purposes, she knew it to be her saving Lucas from someone who was about to attack him, strike her lover down. But Lucas didn't care… Couldn't rationalize anymore… All he knew was that his brother had been hurt and his attention spun back to meet his family.
"Hhhhgghhh…." He coughed, sprays of blood hitting the wintery snow as Lucas rushed forward to catch him in the midst of his fall.
"Ryan!" He screamed as he ran towards him, the whole world blurring away as his focus remained solely on his family.
"Stay with me, stay with me." Lucas muttered again and again, carrying his brother as best he could. Cut off by several bands of fighting parties, Lucas had no choice but to duck into a nearby steel enforced hut, using his shoulder to bash through and quickly set Ryan down on the floor. After slamming the door shut behind him, he rushed over to Ryan's side, trying to stop the bleeding from getting worse.
"Run… Tell mom and sis…" Ryan's hand weakly clasped onto his brother's, his words almost lost amidst his struggle to breathe. His body felt colder and colder by the second.
"Don't… We can tell them together, brother." Lucas stubbornly shook his head, his hands applying pressure to the fatal wound. Blood bubbled out of it, his hands slick with blood, Lucas frantically watching as Ryan's skin started to lose its color, turning pale and white as the seconds went by.
"I always… haarck… knew… you didn't run away… I knew…" Ryan hacked, a final spurt of blood coughed up, dribbling out of his already full mouth onto the wooden floor. Lucas watched his head droop back, resting peacefully on the bloodstained wooden floor. His eyes had closed, as if to signify that he was at peace at long last. That just drove Lucas to try even harder.
"Ryan?" Lucas sobbingly replied, shaking slightly the now warm corpse of his brother. 'No, no… This is just a dream… I'll wake up and he'll be asking to get the groceries… I'll be home…' he told himself over and over again in denial and self-delusion. His arms shook and his hands followed suit, trying to coax even the tiniest form of life from the body.
"Ryan, wake up. Please wake up, brother." He shook him again firmly. Nothing but silence greeted the lonely sibling. Alone… again…
"Please… I can't do this without you… Please wake up." Tears ran down his cheeks, drops of it splattering onto the bloodstained clothes. Still nothing… No reply… Not even a sound.
"Please… please don't leave me…" Every memory, every little thing he could remember came flooding back. Of the time Ryan stood up for him against the neighborhood bullies, of the times when Ryan would babysit him and their sister Samantha and tell them stories of fantasy and science-fiction when many others would be content to feed them simple children stories. Of the last time he had seen him, when they discussed Ryan's career in the military… What was once his sanctum from the pain of the world he now lived in, now existed as a cruel reminder of the consequences of his actions, of the pain he now had to live with.
"I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry." Lucas muttered haltingly, his face buried in Ryan's shoulder. Outside, the sounds of battle carried forth into the small shack, the battle all but underway. Lucas couldn't care… Couldn't feel anything but the body he was cradling in his arms. The brother who had given up so much to find him… The only one who came for him when no-one else did... Gone, at the hands of the one he had come to care for… the one he had come to love… And Lucas just… screamed…. Screamed and screamed until his lungs felt sore, his rage and anguish driving him forward.
There are consequences to wishes after all….
Sorry for the late update. Life has to take precedence over this and it will only get worse from here on out. I hope I will have time to update soon though. Though, I hope you enjoy where I've decided to take this story. Anyway, thanks for all your support and I'll see you guys soon.
