Chapter 8 – Warp and Weft
Sian's heart ached and her body was exhausted, but her mind was sharp as she clutched Sulevin and entered the Magister's chamber. Eyes blazing with fury, she strode to the foot of the dais. "Is this the greatness you crave, Alexius? The power you desired?" As she spoke, anger thrust her into a second wind. "Look at what you've done. All of this suffering and for what?"
Alexius stood on the dais, his arms limp at his sides, his head bowed as he contemplated his sickened son crouched primate-like in the corner. "For my country, for my son. But it means nothing now. I knew you would appear again – not that it would be now. But I knew I hadn't destroyed you. My final failure."
Dorian's rich voice was filled with lamentation as he addressed a man he once respected. "Was it worth it? Everything you did to the world? To yourself? Do you think Tevinter, or anyone else deserves this? I think not."
The Magister sighed, his shoulders sagging with resignation. "It doesn't matter now. All we can do is wait… for the end."
Sian glanced at her friends with respect. They had borne their suffering with dignity and perseverance. In contrast, the Magister's impotence amplified her wrath. "It does matter. I will see this undone!"
His back still facing them, Alexius somberly complained. "How many times have I tried? The past cannot be undone. All that I fought for, all that I betrayed. What have I wrought? Ruin and death – there is nothing else. The Elder One comes for me, for you, for us all."
Perhaps the Magister's eyes had been closed. As he finished speaking, Sian spied Leliana as she crept to the dais, wrapped an arm around Felix's neck, then swept him to a standing position in one fluid motion. The young man was barely recognizable. His eyes were dull, his skin gangrenous and pocked, his bones and musculature skewed. The Herald had seen this before, years ago, in the aftermath of the Blight. Felix was a victim of blight corruption and Sian knew it was, except in very rare cases - incurable.
"Felix!" Alexius gasped, turning to the Spymaster.
"That's Felix?!" Dorian's eyes strained as his brows pressed together. Incredulously, he demanded an explanation. "Maker's breath, Alexius! What have you done?"
The Magister raised his hand, pleading. "He would have died, Dorian. I saved him. Please don't hurt my son. I'll do anything you ask!"
Sian stepped forward to gently address the very determined, justifiably infuriated Spymaster. "Leliana, he is innocent. Don't do this for vengeance. It's not too late. Don't become the thing you hate."
Leliana cast her eyes on Felix for a long minute. Her scabbed, disfigured features relaxed and her eyes softened as she considered him. "No. You are right. Not for vengeance – but for mercy." Her words penetrated the air as her blade penetrated Felix's throat.
Alexius cried out as the young man slumped lifeless to the floor. "No. NO!" Leliana flew from the platform as the Magister swiftly attacked, but his spells seemed to be weakened and Sian and Dorian rapidly subdued him. Desperately, he levied his charged staff at Cassandra. Sian kicked the weapon away, clenched her teeth and beheaded him, cutting off the spell.
Dorian stooped beside his fallen former mentor. "He wanted to die didn't he? All those lies he told himself. The justifications. He lost Felix long ago and didn't even notice." Sighing with remorse, he closed the surprised eyes staring at him. "Oh Alexius."
"I'm sorry, Dorian. This must be hard for you." Sian gripped his shoulder. "This Alexius was too far gone. But the Alexius in our time might still be reasoned with."
"Well, I suppose that's true. This is the same amulet he used before… I think it's the same one we made in Minrathous." Rising, the mage cocked his head. "That's a relief. Give me an hour to work out the spell he used and I should be able to reopen the rift."
Leliana nearly exploded. "An hour! That's impossible! You must go now!" As if to prove her words, the unmistakable screeching and scratching of a horde of demons met their ears, the ground shook and chunks of stone and debris fell into the chamber. The Spymaster shivered. "The Elder One."
Dorian quickly moved to the dais where they had stood in the past and beckoned Sian. But the Herald felt torn. The Seeker and the elven mage shared a bereft glance. Solas nodded mournfully.
Vigilant unto death, Cassandra moved close to Sian's side. The Seeker's eyes were deeply bruised and her voice was determined, but raspy. "You cannot save us and you cannot stop this from here. You know this. We must delay them."
The Herald's eyes blurred. She hated what had been done here – she couldn't simply abandon them. "I won't let you commit suicide."
Leliana stepped beside them, her own eyes streaming. "Look at us – we're already dead. The only way we live is if this day never comes."
Gently smiling, Cassandra tenderly smoothed the hair over Sian's ear. "Go, Herald of Andraste. Find me in the present." Striding to the chamber exit, she nodded to Leliana. "We'll hold the outer door. When they get past us – it will be your turn." As the door closed behind her, Sian heard the echo of her final prayer. "May this day never come. Maker guide us all."
With Sulevin at the ready, Sian began to approach the dais, clenching her teeth, her guts twisting - fighting the urge to run after her companions.
"Cast your spell, you have as much time as I have arrows." Leliana stood several feet away, her bowstring nocked and the chant of light on her lips. "Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame…"
Dorian lifted the amulet and began the incantation. Grunting with effort, beads of perspiration on his brow, he called to Sian, his voice straining. "The way is manifest – but, I can't quite manage to get it open! It needs more power. You must help me do this – or we'll fail!"
Sian rushed to him, her eyes wide as demons splintered the door and savagely hurled Cassandra's empty, broken body inside. Leliana held them off alone – her fingers rapidly loading and releasing arrows. When the last shaft was spent, she used her bladed bow to fend off attackers in hand-to-hand combat, moving lethally through the unnatural flock. "Andraste guide me! Maker take me to your side…" As she offered the fervid benediction, a Venatori clutched her neck and a terror demon ended her life.
Enemies surrounding them, unable to stop the mournful howl ripped from her throat, Sian lifted her palm to the familiar emerald glow, grief and madness channeling her will, and opened the vortex. Once again time shifted and she flew into the tear, tumbling in light. She landed hard and rolled, alighting on her feet in front of Alexius. "Surrender! Now!" She roared fiercely, her cheeks glistening as she placed her blade to his neck.
Her indomitable will overwhelmed Alexius and he yielded without struggle, dropping to his knees in submission. "You won. There is no point extending this charade." The Magister looked to his son his eyes filled with regret. "Felix?"
The young man smiled, crouching next to him. "It's going to be all right, Father."
The Magister's voice broke. "You'll die."
Felix waved to Dorian as his father was taken away by Inquisition Scouts and he stepped beside him. His humble words trailed in his wake. "Everyone dies."
For a long moment, silence reigned. Trembling, heart still racing, Sian searched the room with her eyes and found the Seeker. She had to remind herself that this Cassandra knew nothing of the wretched future she had given her life to defer. The Herald felt her eyes fill with hope and affection as she gazed at the Seeker. Cassandra looked back at her quizzically, but nodded her approval.
"Oh goody. We get to keep the mud." Dorian cleared his throat and frowned, brushing flakes of mold, blood and dried dirt from his garments. He gave up with a deep sigh. "Well, I'm glad that's over with." The words tripped from his lips as the sound of marching boots filled the great hall. "Or not…"
Troops in the livery of Ferelden formed up on the perimeter. As the last of the large detail stomped into place, they opened to reveal King Alistair and Queen Anora.
The King's eyebrow was arched, his demeanor laced with consternation as he spoke to Fiona. "Grand Enchanter. Imagine how surprised I was to learn you'd given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister?"
"King Alistair!" Fiona's eyes were wide with shock, but she offered the rulers an elegant bow.
"Especially since last I checked Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan." Alistair crossed his arms, his voice firm.
Though Sian wasn't sure why, Fiona seemed flustered in the King's presence. "Your Majesty, we never intended…"
"I know what you intended." Alistair sounded as disappointed as he did disapproving. "I wanted to help you. But you've made it impossible. You've given me no choice. You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden."
Fiona's face fell. "But we have hundreds who need protection - where will we go?"
"Pardon me, Your Majesties." Temper cooled, Sian nodded elegantly to the royal duo. "But I should point out that we did come here for mages to close the Breach."
The Grand Enchanter was fidgety and rightly nervous. "And what are the terms of this arrangement?"
"Hopefully, better than what Alexius gave you." Dorian looked to Sian expectantly. "The Inquisition is better than that – yes?"
"I suggest conscripting them." Cassandra crossed her arms, scowling pointedly at Fiona. "They've proven what they'll do given too much freedom."
Solas rarely involved himself in decision-making, but even he had an opinion. "They have lost any other support they might have had through their actions. The Inquisition is their only remaining chance for freedom."
The situation was crystal clear to the Grand Enchanter. She cast her eyes to the floor. "It seems we have little choice but to accept whatever you are willing to offer."
Sian realized they were all looking to her to decide. For a moment she turned away, her mind reviewing the events of the day. Some were factual – some were projections from a future they had narrowly escaped. But they all provided insight into the motives of all of the players, including the mages. Whatever she chose she'd have to justify to the Inquisition.
Running her hand through her cropped, dark hair, she pivoted, narrowed her eyes and gravely made an offer to Fiona. "If you will help us close the Breach, we would be honored to have you fight as allies at the Inquisition's side."
Behind her, she heard Cassandra sigh deeply. "We will discuss that later."
Sian's voice was unwavering as she addressed the Grand Enchanter while issuing a potent reminder to them all. "The Breach and this Elder One threaten all of Thedas and everyone in it. We cannot afford to be lacking in unity – it only makes us weak. Any chance of success requires your full cooperation and support."
"A generous opportunity." King Alistair nodded in agreement and told Fiona gravely. "The Herald is willing to give you a second chance. I'd take that offer if I were you. One way or the other – you're leaving my kingdom."
"We accept. It would be madness not to." Fiona seemed relieved and thankful. "I will gather my people and ready them for the journey to Haven. The Breach will be closed – you will not regret giving us this chance."
Maker, I hope not. Sian whispered under her breath as she caught the Seeker's baleful stare.
XXXXX
Night had fallen on the Hinterlands as Sian led the Inquisition's troops back to camp. She was filthy and drained, but thoughts of the situation she and Dorian had faced in the time rift occupied her mind. The light of the waxing moon illuminated the Seeker's raven hair and her familiar face as she marched in silence at the Herald's side. Sian worried that she was angry, but in truth she appeared to be pensive, in deep communion with her own thoughts. What are you thinking, Seeker?
The troops dispersed as they made it to the encampment while Cassandra and Leliana followed Sian to the command tent.
Pacing the length of the map table and back like a caged lion, Cullen awaited them. He exhaled sharply as he studied Sian's blood spackled attire. "Sweet Andraste! Where have you been? What happened?"
Cassandra and Leliana took turns filling him in, telling him of the Magister's duplicity, his plans to indenture the mages and his work for the mysterious enemy - the Elder One. They told him of the final meeting with Fiona and the rulers of Ferelden, but when they came to the juncture of the Herald's decision, they looked at her pointedly.
Sian stepped to the fore. "In exchange for providing us help in closing the Breach, I offered them an alliance with the Inquisition."
"You what?!" the Commander bristled. "What were you thinking? We can't turn mages loose with no oversight!"
"We can." Sian assured him, squaring off with him. "I have my reasons. I saw things, terrible things for our future if the Breach is not healed and this Elder One exposed and defeated." Casting her arm past each of them, she shuddered as she thought of the pillars of red lyrium, the sickness, the death. "We all paid a very high price for failure in that future – including the mages."
"But the veil is torn open! The mages face a high threat of possession." the former Templar sputtered. "Seeker, you were there. Why didn't you intervene?"
Cassandra shrugged and crossed her arms, nonplussed by Cullen's ire. "I confess that I do not understand but she did well. I support the Herald. Her mission was to gain the support of the mages and that was accomplished. In the end, closing the Breach is what matters."
"I too support the Herald." Leliana told him. "And – we are attracting former Templars to our cause. If the mages cannot manage their own – we will deal with them appropriately."
Sian rubbed her forehead, attempting to smooth away the headache building within from just thinking about the dark future. "Sister Leliana, you need to be aware that in the future, Empress Celene was assassinated and the Elder One raised an unstoppable army of demons that devastated Thedas."
"I will definitely be looking into those things, you may rest assured." The Spymaster agreed without hesitation. "I will get my agents in Orlais on it immediately."
Apparently mollified, the quick tempered Commander focused on strategy. "One battle at a time. It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. We'll take this to Haven and hold a war council there. Maker willing the mages will be enough to grant us victory." Poised to exit, he gripped Sian's arm. "Apologies, Ser Trevelyan. You did well. None of this means anything without your Mark."
The Herald returned the grip and locked onto his eyes. "Commander, I am honored to be part of the Inquisition. Believe me when I tell you that I would do anything to prevent the future I witnessed from happening. Anything."
XXXXX
As Sian left the command tent Dorian fell in step with her. "Nasty business - the future." The mage pointed out impishly. "Though I'd prefer to skip any war councils, I would like to stay and see this Breach up close if you don't mind."
Amused and pleasantly surprised, Sian chuckled. "Do you mean to tell me that you haven't had enough of fighting demons and your own countrymen? Besides which - I saw the way you looked at the rustic décor. Are you certain you want to rough it?"
The mage's tone took a serious turn. "We both saw what could happen. What this Elder One and his cult are trying to do. Not everything from Tevinter is terrible, not all of us are like them. Some of us have fought for eons against this sort of madness. It's my duty to stand with you. That future must not come to pass." His jovial demeanor returned and he flashed her a grin. "And – you would be shocked to see the wonders I can perform with primitive accommodations. Besides – the south is so charming this time of year. I just adore it to little tiny pieces."
The man's company seemed to lift her spirits. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with – future or present."
"Excellent choice – but let's not get stranded again anytime soon, yes?" His eyes twinkled in the diffused light of the nearby campfire. Then, bidding her goodnight, he sauntered off.
Sian thought seriously about just going to bed as she was but the residue of slogging through Redcliffe's dungeon and the blood of the Venatori clung to her body like pollution. She knew of a nearby stream she could bathe in and craved the cleansing water. Collecting a change of clothes and a towel, she quietly slipped to her destination.
The discussion in the command tent had taken her back to the future past. As she swam, she let the anxiety of it bubble into the water surrounding her, carrying with it the detritus of the dungeon. Most of it washed away, but as she stilled her movements, letting the currents pass over her aching body, she felt the ghost of Cassandra's touch to her cheek and the deep longing she'd harbored as she held the dying Seeker in the dark cell.
Sian closed her eyes, took a lungful of air and plunged into a deep pool. The rush of water resounding in her ears returned her to those moments of watching as her companions sacrificed themselves for the future good. As she surfaced explosively and gasped for breath, her mind's eye flashed to Cassandra's bleeding, wrecked body landing ignominiously on the castle floor, her life force spent. For all of her faith, her skills and her dogged determination – the Seeker was mortal. Even a protector needed protection.
Standing up in the waist deep stream, cold air colliding with her wet skin like an ethereal hammer, Sian trembled. Her flesh recoiled with the sudden chill and the dark memory. The world had been ending in those moments for everyone in Thedas, but Sian realized that for her, the world had already become a void the instant Cassandra died.
"Find me in the present." Future Cassandra had told her. Closing her eyes, she recalled the soft hand running past her ear and a smile that carried a nascent promise. Evidently, the future Seeker had thought about her, missed her – and seemed to have deeper feelings for her.
By the time she toweled off and dressed, Sian had to admit to herself that she was falling hopelessly in love with Cassandra. She shivered, not from the night air, but from the prospect of ever professing it.
XXXXX
Cassandra noticed Sian's absence and sat by the campfire, occasionally prodding the banked embers to life. Just as she was about to go in search of the wayward Herald, she heard her footsteps on the path behind her.
"Seeker, are you still up?" Sian asked as she pulled her gambeson tightly around her.
The Herald's profile seemed to glow. Cassandra studied her. She was impressed with the noble's bearing. She'd mastered the Magister and withstood an ordeal the Seeker could only imagine was a nightmare of epic proportions. But, in this light Cassandra considered her face. Trevelyan was not a classic beauty. Her features were a bit sharp, her body, though slim, was too muscular – too androgynous. Her deep blue eyes were the eyes of a raptor, defined by dark, arched eyebrows. Not beautiful – but handsome.
"Seeker?" The Herald's worried tone snapped her from her thoughts.
"Yes. Of course." Irritated with herself for her errant contemplation, Cassandra sounded brusque, even to herself. "It – It concerns me when you go off alone."
"I apologize for worrying you." Brows gathered, the Herald seated herself on a nearby log and explained. "I was covered with nasty souvenirs from Redcliffe's dungeon. I knew I'd feel better if I washed up before going to bed."
"I am being foolish. It only makes sense that you would wish to do so." The Seeker was contrite. "Forgive me."
"You seemed upset with me at Redcliffe, but you defended me to Cullen. Do you truly support my decision?" Sian held her hands to the fire, warming them.
"I do. Though I do not pretend to understand it." Cassandra was perplexed. Between the firestorm at Kirkwall, the vote to rebel and their desperate pact with Alexius, the mages had proven themselves to be utterly unreliable. "What made you think to offer them an alliance?"
Sian faced her, chuckling, seeming to read her mind. "You mean why would I think it's a good idea to give freedom to a group of people who have repeatedly demonstrated an alarming capacity for poor decision-making?"
There it was. That particular crooked smile. One that seemed to be a gift given only to her. Cassandra cleared her throat and stoked the ebbing fire to warm the chilled Herald. "That would be an excellent place to start. Yes."
One dark eyebrow crept up as Sian began. "My original inclination was to take your advice – conscript them. Maker – I was so angry." The Herald's brow furrowed and her lips compressed. "But, as I told the council, they paid dearly for it." Her hand swept back through her drying hair and she sighed deeply. "Truth is – in the end I tried to think of the root cause of their foolishness. Their lack of freedom started this – long before you or I ever were a twinkle in our father's eyes. For better or worse, they gained their freedom and to take it away would only return them to the desperation that has fueled so many of their mistakes. If we confined them – they'd just attempt to run again." Sian spread her fingers over her kneecaps, leaning into her elbows. "In the end, I suppose it seemed fair to me to give them another chance. I'd rather have them organized, under the eyes of the Inquisition, than run the risk of having them running scared – loosed on Thedas."
"I meant it when I said you did well." Cassandra studied the Herald's battle-scarred hands, observing tiny scars, nicks and callouses from years of blade work. Those hands were capable of wholesale mayhem, but she knew they possessed a gentle magic too. The few times the Herald touched the Seeker had been memorable, leaving traces of tenderness and reverence that remained. Cassandra directed her gaze at Sian. "In truth, you did better than well. But – can we trust them?"
The Herald snorted derisively, "Oh – we can trust them. We can trust them to look out for their own best interests at this point anyway. But, for the time being – that works to our advantage. With the Inquisition's support, some subtle guidance, a lot more information and a generous amount of time, they might even do some growing up."
"I suppose they might. The Seekers knew they'd been mishandled. Mistakes were made – there were deaths. They might have been prevented if we'd just been more compassionate instead of turning a blind eye." Cassandra sighed. "I suppose it isn't only the mages who need to grow up."
"Somehow I think Divine Justinia knew that. At least, I hope she did." Sian leisurely stretched, dropped her hips to the ground and leaned her back into the log she'd occupied. The move brought her into close proximity with the Seeker.
"I suspect that is true. She had an uncanny way of knowing us better than we knew ourselves I think." Cassandra noticed that their hips and thighs nearly touched. It surprised her to realize that she actually felt comfortable with the closeness. Was it right that the protector felt so safe with the one she vowed to protect? Cassandra wasn't sure, but she gave into the moment. Sian looked so haggard, so worn. "I would understand if you do not wish to discuss it, but if you need to speak of what happened to you I am glad to listen."
Sian's eyes were hooded and her mouth was firm as she replied. "There were many terrible things… unspeakable things. You don't deserve to be troubled with them."
"You saw nothing worthwhile? Nothing that sustained you?" Cassandra didn't want to pry, but it saddened her to think that the world Sian saw was so void of hope.
"One. There was one thing." Ocean blue eyes beneath glistening lashes seemed to contemplate the Seeker, searching her face. "But, for now – I will keep it here." The Herald pressed her palm to her heart.
"Perhaps someday you will be able to tell me." Cassandra was drawn to the intensity of the memory and felt her eyes wash with compassion.
"Perhaps." Sian's eyes were grave, but gentle. "I would ask a boon of you though."
"If it is within my grasp, I will grant it." The Seeker offered her assurance.
"This is an elven protection rune." The Herald reached into the liner of her quilted, dark blue jacket and produced a necklet. "I want you to accept it as a gift – and I want you to promise me that you will wear it."
Cassandra had first noticed the amulet when Sian languished in the Chantry jail. She'd always thought it was attractive. The rune itself was silverite embossed with opalescent-washed, golden elven characters, embedded with tiny fragments of sapphire and amethyst. The precious ingot hung between golden ferrules from a burnished mahogany leather cord. It was part of the Herald, she couldn't imagine her not wearing it. "Why? Why would you give this to me?"
"You need it more than I do. Sulevin has a twin to it in the pommel." Sian lifted the sword from where it sat beside her and lined them up. The twin runes sparkled in the firelight. Her voice was insistent as she urged her. "It would ease my mind more than if I spoke of Redcliffe."
"If – If you're certain." Cassandra felt a lump in her throat and warmth in her heart.
Sian answered wordlessly by rolling to her knees in front of Cassandra. She lifted the ends of the necklet and fastened them behind her neck. Her touch was tender as her fingers delicately tracked the lengths back to the amulet, tracing over the Seeker's skin. For a moment, she closed her eyes and prayerfully held the amulet.
The Seeker shivered, her body drawn to the Herald's hands and the trailing warmth on her neck and throat. She flushed as she searched Sian's eyes and realized that not only was there was longing and hunger in them, but that deep within, she wanted to answer it.
Resistant, instead she gripped Sian's bicep and murmured her gratitude. "This is very generous of you. The Empress of Orlais has no finer piece than this. I promise – I will wear it always."
The enchantment dispelled as Sian sat back on her knees and she smiled that crooked smile. "Well, you are 78th in line for the Nevarran throne - it's fitting, don't you agree?"
For once, Cassandra stifled her usual response to references to her royal lineage, instead she satisfied herself with a playful swipe at Sian's shoulder. "If your intent is to keep me alive, then yes. Given the odds we face, I am grateful for it." Noting the fatigue that had taken hold of the Herald, she got to her feet and extended a helping hand. "You look exhausted. Come. It is time we call it a day."
Returning the grip, Sian rose beside her. "Then I wish you good night, Seeker."
As the Herald walked away from the campfire, Cassandra immediately felt bereft of the intimacy. She'd spent so much of her life trying to make a difference, trying to matter, being a protector, that she'd forgotten what it felt like to have someone who wanted to keep her safe. While he lived Galyan had, but for some reason - it never felt like this.
