Author's note:
As always, many thanks to those of you who've read and reviewed. It means a lot.
Blessed are they who stand before
The Corrupt and the Wicked and do not falter
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the Champions of the just...
He awoke to the muffled sound of several voices above him. It was difficult to discern the words, but having recited it every morning since the age of twelve, the verse had become innate. It was from the Canticle of Benedictions, and was frequently used by Chanters to praise those who had aided others in the name of the Maker.
The events of the previous night trickled in, and he found himself reaching out for her groggily. Instead of her person, however, his hand grasped something small and distinctly furry with some form of cloth attached to it. He pulled the object towards him for closer examination.
A corner of Cullen's lips turned upwards. Of course. Of course she would leave the bear with him. His eyes also caught sight of a torn scrap of vellum upon which lay some words.
Hope you slept soundly with no bad dreams. Sorry I had to leave – duty calls. You know how it is. I didn't completely neglect you though. Left Ser Rutherford by your side to keep you company. He isn't much of a talker but he possesses a silent strength. Hope to see you sometime this evening.
E.
He fingered the paper gently. He'd slept better than he had in weeks.
Cullen walked into the Templar dormitory, found himself a private corner, and started to dress himself. He wasn't quite prepared to be decked in full Templar regalia, but a casual step towards normalcy was a start. He buttoned the long-sleeved white shirt and adjusted the collar. He slowly put each leg into his tan trousers and then sat down on a stool to lace up his boots. He wasn't sure how presentable he was but he was far too reluctant to look in a mirror to find out. The last time he'd gazed at his own image, the bloodshot eyes that reflected back seemed to belong to another person entirely.
Somewhat satisfied sans mirror, he walked out of the Templar quarters and went to search for Knight Commander Gregoir.
Under normal circumstances, had Cullen waltzed into the Knight Commander's office this late in the day, he would have elicited a sharp reprimand. But these weren't mundane occurrences. Cullen knew he wasn't quite up to waltzing in anywhere. And Gregoir was keenly aware of it as well. The young man had been shut up within an impenetrable field of magic for a little over two days. Uldred's demons had sifted through Cullen's mind and had used his own memories against him until he could no longer distinguish nightmare from reality. To have come out of it with at least part of his persona intact, it showed remarkable strength of will.
He still had a long way to go, in terms of recovery, but these things took time and Gregoir was willing to be as accommodating as possible.
A knock sounded on the door to his study.
"Come in," the Knight Commander said.
Cullen stepped in. "I hope this is not a bad time. I came to apologize for my tardiness."
Gregoir's eyes widened for the briefest of moments. The difference between the boy he'd seen during these past trying weeks and the one who stared back at him now was night and day. Gregoir had ordered the Chantry healer to increase his dosage of Lyrium in order to ease Cullen's transition towards recovery, but the Lyrium didn't seem to elicit much of an improvement. Something else had, however. That much was clear.
"You have nothing to apologize for," said Gregoir. He loosely gestured in Cullen's direction. "You look...well. I trust you're feeling better?"
"I think so. Quite possibly – yes."
Gregoir smiled. "I am relieved to hear it."
Cullen fidgeted with his fingers. "I know that you've been concerned about me lately, and I just thought of something that might help me move forward."
The older man nodded for him to continue.
"I ran across Quentin earlier. He told me that some phylacteries arrived just this morning. From the White Spire."
"Correct. After three of the mages escaped, I sent for their phylacteries to be delivered. The sooner we track them down, the better. We can't have what happened here spread to the nearest villages. Or, Maker forbid, beyond it. This kind of...insurrection is potentially contagious. If the escaped mages – well, I suppose they're apostates now...If the escaped apostates managed to reach other mages sympathetic to their cause, and if they still retain knowledge that Uldred has imparted to them, this could get bad very quickly."
As if wasn't bad enough already, thought Cullen. "I would like to help you trace them."
"You want to hunt them down?" asked Gregoir with raised eyebrows.
"Yes."
"No. Absolutely not. Not yet, at least."
Cullen was taken aback by how quickly his Knight Commander had come to this decision. "Might I inquire why?"
"Don't ask questions to which you would not like the answers," cautioned Gregoir.
"I suppose it is not my decision to make, but I do have a right to know why I was denied," frowned Cullen.
Gregoir exhaled deeply. "You wanted the Grey Wardens to kill all the surviving mages. Mages who were not party to Uldred's schemes. You asked for the Right of Annulment to be enforced after the situation was brought under control."
"I know I might have been emotionally – "
Gregoir held up an interrupting hand. "You were significantly traumatized. Of course you were emotionally compromised. Quite frankly, I am amazed at your rapid recovery. Torture of this sort would have broken a lesser man. So yes, I get it. But I have been Knight Commander long enough to distinguish vengeance from duty. Revenge has gotten many fine soldiers under my command killed. And I would rather risk damnation than repeat history today. So the answer to your question, Cullen, is an emphatic no."
"Who'll track them down then?"
"I sent out some of Biedrin's Templars an hour ago. They'll get the job done."
Evangeline. "You do know that some of those Templars have been in the Order for a very short time, don't you? They may not be able to contend with blood mages."
"Do you think me an idiot?" said Gregoir, a trifle annoyed. "They've been paired with more senior soldiers. There is a war coming and this will be a good opportunity to test their mettle. And besides, next to myself, Knight Commander Biedrin has trained some of the finest Templars I've ever seen."
"For heaven's sake – don't drop the damn thing!" cried Adric, horrified, as he rushed towards Evangeline.
The hourglass-shaped phylactery she had been holding slipped clumsily from her grasp, but she had reached out just in time to prevent it from shattering into hundreds of irrecoverable pieces.
"Sorry, sorry!" she wailed.
"Give me that." said Adric as he snatched the delicate vial from her hand. "Would you try not to use all ten of your thumbs at once?"
It was best to let him have his way. For a little over an hour now, the phylactery – it's glow increasing in gradual degrees – had led them down the forest path. But as they wandered farther in, the phylactery grew cold and dark. Several minutes later, the trees were beginning to thin, and Adric swatted at loose, overhanging branches in frustration.
"This is a right royal mess," he groused as he began to admonish himself out loud. "I'm the one who's two years your senior, I'm the one with significantly more experience. So what do I do? I entrust the phylactery to you, in the hope that you would pick up some kind of trace. But no. You were certain it was this way, you said. He's in the forest – I'm sure of it. And then what happens once we're neck deep in the woods? The vial stops glowing. What the hell were you looking at then? It could have been the sunlight...reflecting off the glass." Adric slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. "Imbecile!"
"Not one of your brightest moments. Nor mine for that matter." quipped Evie, who clamped her jaw shut after Adric shot her a withering look.
"If ever the Templar order requires a comedic routine, I'll be sure to volunteer our services." His shoulders slumped as he turned around slowly. "Well, there's nothing to be done standing here. Let's retrace our steps and start over."
Evangeline munched on some stale bread as she watched Adric pace forward. It was difficult navigating this hilly terrain but the pair had managed it, and now, the phylactery was glowing brighter than ever before. And sunlight had nothing to do with it.
Adric looked up from it and grinned. "It's warm too. And you know what that means."
Evangeline tossed the rubbery bread aside and walked up to him. "He's used magic recently, hasn't he?"
Adric nodded and handed her the phylactery. She held it in one hand and used the other to block out external, interfering light, and peered at it. Yup. Definitely glowing. "Nice work, Adric." she said, giving the vial back to him.
"You know, some Templars are able to exert a degree of control over a mage just by using their phylactery. I'd be willing to bet that they could make the mage walk right out into the open."
"Can you?"
"I'm afraid not. Or at least, not yet."
He jogged forward and surveyed the valley below. A stream weaved its way before them, and as his eyes followed its path, they met a small, ramshackle old cabin.
Adric turned to Evangeline and beamed. He stuck his hand out towards her. "Ten to one that he's in there with his feet up, quite happy in the belief that he's eluded us. If I'm right, you're buying me a pint. Actually, even if I'm wrong, you're still buying me one. I'm owed a stiff drink after what you put me through."
Evangeline grinned and shook his hand before they carefully descended down the hill.
Cullen finally found her cot in a corner. It was one of the few that had not been neatly made. He approached it and picked up a book she had laid on the floor. He examined its title. Chantry Priests II – The Reckoning, by Varric Tethras. The cover illustration depicted three, terribly grim Chantry brothers with swords in their hands. A fire...or an explosion, perhaps, lay behind them in the background.
"Oh, Evie." murmured Cullen with affection. He'd have to ask her about this later.
He had wanted to return the bear to his rightful place under her pillow when the idea came over him to make her bed up properly. He put Ser Rutherford's furry self aside and set about removing and replacing the blankets. As he lifted the thin mattress to tuck the sheets underneath, he heard a muffled clinking sound – as if something made of glass had slipped onto the floor. He knelt and bent down to peer under the cot.
There was a small pouch that had fallen. Curious, Cullen reached out and pulled the small sack towards him. He undid the loose tie that bound it shut and looked inside. Vials of Lyrium. There had to be at least seven here, all unused. But what was she doing with these? Had she been hoarding them? Every Templar developed an addiction to Lyrium, but there was a small number whose cravings could never be satiated. Not for very long anyway. However, it was rather easy for another Templar to sense large quantities of Lyrium within the more severe addicts. He had not sensed it in her at all. Which meant...what, exactly?
She hadn't been taking it.
The implications hit him hard and his heart began to pound faster. Lyrium gave them the ability to withstand spells that could weaken or even kill an ordinary person. It was an internal shield, in a way. It also made them capable of dispelling certain forms of magic. Without it, and against blood mages...
Cullen stumbled to his feet and ran out of the room.
The man held his staff threateningly in front of him with one hand. The other shielded the woman behind him protectively.
"You take one more step, Templars, and I will turn you both to ashes. Think you can take me down before I set this place on fire? Try it. Just try it. Give me a reason to burn you." the Mage warned.
Adric, attempting to take control of the situation, lowered his longsword and brought down his shield. "We have no intentions of hurting her," he explained. "We just want to sit down and have a nice chat."
"The last time someone brought a weapon to the table in the name of discourse, blood was spilled and lives were lost." he snarled. "I have no reason to believe the word of a Templar."
"Then let your friend go," Evangeline spoke up. "What has she got to do with any of this?"
The apostate's face twisted in hate. "So you can use her as a bargaining chip? You think I don't know how you work? The minute I let her go, you'll put a sword to her throat." The woman sobbed quietly behind him.
"I swear it, I will not harm her." stated Adric.
"I won't be taken for a fool any longer. She stays with me."
"It appears that we are at an impasse then, no?" remarked Adric; trying to keep his voice even and somewhat friendly.
"A trade, then," suggested Evangeline suddenly.
Adric shot a glance in her direction. What was she doing? They were never to barter with apostates, let alone blood mages.
She tried to ignore him and continued. "Look. We're going to be standing here all evening at this rate. You don't trust us. So let us give you a reason to. I'm going to put aside my weapon now, and walk to that corner there. With my hands up."
"Why the hell would you do that?" questioned the man warily.
"You let her go and I'll be your bargaining chip. And as a Templar, I'm far more valuable than a peasant girl. You do realize that there are more Templars coming, right? They'll be here soon – I assure you," she lied. "And they won't be as merciful as we are. You think they'll hesitate to kill the pair of you just because she's an innocent bystander?" She gave a derisive snort. "They won't come here to bargain. They won't come here to negotiate. You apostates slaughtered their colleagues. Their friends. They're coming here for vengeance."
"And what makes you two so different?"
Adric swallowed. The mage was finally listening. He didn't know what hare-brained scheme Evangeline was concocting, but he decided to trust her and play along. "We only just arrived two days ago. From Redcliffe. We haven't lost anyone...yet."
Evangeline nodded in agreement, not taking her eyes off the man. "With me as your captive, a fellow Templar – that might make them considerably more amenable to reason. What do you say?"
In moments that seemed to endure for an eternity, the man turned his head slightly to address his companion. "Now when I say go, you run. You don't stop for anything, you hear me? Just run." And then, to Evangeline, "Put your sword and shield on the floor. Kick it away from your friend."
She did as she was told.
"Take off your armor."
She hesitated; she hadn't counted on him thinking that far ahead. But it was too late to change her mind. The armor fell to the floor with several clanks.
"Now move slowly to that corner with your hands where I can see them," he barked.
In nothing but a shirt and trousers, Evangeline followed his instructions and soon stood where he had commanded her.
After eying Evangeline cautiously for several more seconds; "Run, Ophelia. Just go! Now!" He shoved the woman away from him as she stumbled, weeping, out into the night.
While the woman made a swift exit, Evangeline winked at Adric. She raised her right arm slightly higher and allowed for the cuff of her sleeve to slide down a fraction. Something glinted briefly in the lamplight, before she hastily covered it up. Adric gave her the slightest of smiles.
The mage turned and glowered at Adric, breathing heavily. He stepped sideways in Evangeline's direction and pointed his wooden staff at her neck. This close to the weapon, she noticed a blade attached to its tip. She would be burned and gutted if they didn't resolve this soon. And here she thought being a Templar would be dull.
"You wanted to talk? So talk!" the man shouted to Adric.
"Yes. Alright. I...what exactly is it that you want?"
The mage let out a bitter laugh. "All the fighting, all the abuse and the death and you still can't figure out what we want?" He paused to catch his breath. "We want our fucking freedom! We want normal lives where we can love who we want, when we want! We want to be respected as human beings! We want – "
Evangeline lunged and thrust her dagger into the apostate's shoulder. In the scuffle, he stumbled forward and the staff's blade sliced the skin on her neck. Adric took advantage of the confusion and ran towards them to subdue the mage. But the man was ready for him. He shoved his staff in Adric's direction and sent the young Templar flailing backwards onto the cabin's wall. The wood immediately splintered - whimpering and groaning as it did so. Adric slid to the floor with his eyes shut.
Evangeline, clutching her throat with one hand, snarled as she closed in on her assailant – dagger at the ready.
Adric, still reeling from the blow, watched in morbid fascination as she circled the mage and attempted to cut off his retreat. The mage held one hand in the air and began an incantation. He was about to cast a spell.
Adric's knees weren't quite ready to stand, so he shouted in Evangeline's direction. "Dispel it!"
She stretched her hand forward to do as she was told and then yanked it back as a slow, horrified realization hit her.
Adric finally understood what was going on. Without the Lyrium coursing through her veins, she was defenseless against any and all spells that he would surely cast. You damnable idiot, thought Adric.
The mage, as injured and angry as he was, had caught on too. He summoned mana to form an invisible yet large fist that cut through the air and sent her sliding across the room. His anger unabated, he advanced towards her. She shuffled to get back up on her feet.
No, thought Adric weakly, as he raised his hand and tried to cleanse the area of magic himself. It worked to a certain extent, as whatever spell the apostate had conjured only served to unbalance her for a moment.
Realizing this, the mage bellowed in rage and charged at her. He shoved the blade into her stomach. She let out an agonized yell and clutched at him as she fell backwards. But in mid-fall, Evangeline had managed to put one hand behind his neck. She pulled his face towards her and, with an immense effort, stabbed the mage right in the soft skin beneath his chin. She worked in the blade as far as she could manage. The weapon must have sliced open his carotid, as a spray of blood soon showered across her face.
They both slammed into the floor and lay still.
The dog, its brown snout close to the ground, yanked him to the right. It snuffled its way through forest detritus and led him over yet another hill.
As twilight descended, the hound's stalwart presence relieved him somewhat. He would catch hell from Gregoir once the Knight Commander discovered that Cullen had absconded with one of his precious dogs, but he had a feeling that stealing the dog would be the lesser issue here.
Consequences. Every damnable action had consequences. For Gregoir, for himself and now for Evangeline as well.
Anger bubbled within him. It seemed to displace apprehension and dread, because the thought of... No. When he found her he would yell at her like he'd never shouted at anyone in his life. Her inabilities due to lack of Lyrium crippled both her and Adric. How could she have been so naïve, so immature and thoughtless so as to jeopardize her companion's life?
Or, more accurately, do you mean how could she not think of what this would do to you?
But everything would be fine. Everything would be okay. He would just make her aware of her own stupidity and then...and then, he decided, he would tell her how he felt.
The dog let out a high-pitched bark.
Cullen saw the cabin below and ran towards it.
Cullen kicked open the door with his sword pointed ahead of him. He swept his eyes over the poorly lit interior until the landed on a slumped form against the wall.
Adric.
Cullen examined the young Templar and put two fingers on his neck. He was relieved to feel a pulse. The injured man had a nasty cut on his temple, but other than that he seemed to be alright. He slapped Adric lightly on the face. "Adric. Adric – wake up, can you hear me?"
The Templar's eyes fluttered open. He stared up at Cullen's visage and gave a weak smile. "Well, aren't you a pretty one?"
Cullen ignored him. "Where's Evie?"
In an instant, the smile was gone and Adric's face grew pale. He staggered to his feet with Cullen's help and stumbled towards two prostrate bodies in a darkened corner. The mage was lying on top her with an arm awkwardly extended onto the floor.
Maker, no, thought Cullen.
"Help me get him off her." said Adric.
With trembling hands, that he tried in vain to steady, the pair lifted the limp body aside. Evangeline lay there, terribly still. The blade from the mage's staff had snapped and half of its shard protruded from her abdomen.
No, no, no. Not like this. Please, not like this, wailed Cullen inwardly.
There was blood on her face, in her hair, her neck... "I don't..." groaned Cullen as he teetered backwards.
Adric caught him. He looked at the distraught man. "It's not all her blood. Do you hear me, Templar? It's not all hers. She got him somehow and they fell together. Just stay here a minute."
Cullen watched in panicked silence as Adric bent over her limp form. A minute disguised as an hour followed.
"She's alive." he called out.
Cullen rushed forward as Adric continued. "I'm not sure how deep the blade went in, but the bleeding seems to have stopped. Here, give me a rag," Cullen fumbled about for a handkerchief and handed to him. "You're going to want to either wash or burn this afterwards," said Adric as he wiped most of the dried blood off her face. On closer examination, Adric noticed that there were no injuries to her face, save for a gash across her neck. But it wasn't too deep.
"Now," Adric went on, "find me some clean cloth and soak it in this." He handed Cullen a small poultice. "It's an antiseptic. You are going to have to pull that blade out of her. That could start the bleeding back up again, so I'm going to put pressure on the wound until it stops. Do you think you can manage that?"
Cullen nodded.
A solid, exhausting hour later, Adric stepped away from his patient and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. Cullen remained by Evangeline's side and looked up at his companion.
"Not a bad job for someone who's not a healer, eh? Now if only I could cure this throbbing headache." said Adric with a grim smile.
"Will she be alright?"
Adric regarded Cullen with some amusement. "I think she'll make it. Although once she's up and about, I intend to kill her myself. But for the moment, yes, she's quite safe."
"We should take her back," said Cullen.
Adric agreed and moved forward so as to pick up and carry her unconscious form.
Cullen held his hand out and motioned for him to stop. "I...please, let me. I've got her."
In one movement he gingerly lifted her up, propped her head against his chest and followed Adric out into the night.
