Chapter Ten
I am pouring over a map of Thedas with Cassandra when one of my scouts appears and salutes.
"Commander - we've a sighting over the ridge of a person wading through the snow - alone." She says. She has no report, except through word of mouth. I exchange a glance with Cassandra.
"Do you have any more details?" the Seeker asks, crossing her arms.
"Not at the moment, Lady Pentaghast," she replies, her head bowed. "Except that the figure is completely alone and does not seem to be a threat."
"Hmm, perhaps a survivor from Haven," Cassandra muses. My gut twists uncomfortably inside me. No other stragglers from Haven had been sighted, and yet here was one. My curiosity is spiked. Could it be a trap?
"A watcher thinks they saw a flicker of green light…"
"Show me," I say, and the scout nods and leads the way out the camp. Cassandra is with me. I dare not think. I dare not hope. My mind is blank as we march up the slope to the open pass, guarded by some of my troops. I cannot… I must not…
The figure stumbles through the snow towards us, before falling to their knees. I run forward. It cannot be. My feet take control and age me forwards and Cassandra is hot on my heels. I am there and the figure collapses - it's Lyla. It's really her.
"There!" I cry. "It's her!"
"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra says, almost weeping.
I'm here, I'm right here in front of her and she looks up at me before her eyelids slip close and she passes out. Before anyone can come any closer, I am kneeing and scooping her up in my arms. She is frozen, with little to no colour in her face. Her fingertips are blue and I am astounded by how little she weighs in my arms. I turn and march quickly down to the camp where the survivors are emerging from their tents, halting in their tasks just to see me carry her down. The Herald. Alive and breathing - just - in my arms.
I take her to the healer's tent where I lay her down on a stretcher and various mages gently push me out of the way as they get close to her and begin their spells of warmth and revival. I linger by the edge of the tent and watch them work, feeling helpless. I silently thank the Maker that she is here, alive, and pray that she makes it through the night.
Hours pass until I can finally see her. She is asleep and Mother Giselle is sat by her pillow, watching her face and singing a soft chant. She stops when I approach.
"The Maker's will is strong," she whispers.
I am at a loss for words. "How is she?" I manage.
"She is sleeping, Commander. She will be fine when she awakes. Let her rest." Mother Giselle speaks gently and I slowly back away, my eyes never leaving Lyla's face. I reluctantly leave the healer's shelter. As she releases a content sigh in her sleep, I realise, with all my heart, that I truly do love her. I rest my head in my hands and swear under my breath.
My blood is boiling. We have argued deep into the night about our next steps and it's become ridiculous. All of our voices are raised and the villages and soldiers politely look elsewhere as we - who are meant to be leading the Inquisition - bicker like children.
"What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!" I exclaim.
"We cannot simply ignore this," Cassandra counters. "We must find a way!"
I turn on her. "Oh, and who put you in charge?" I say sharply. "We need a consensus, or we have nothing-"
Josephine tries to intervene. "Please, we must use reason! Without the infrastructure of the Inquisition, we're hobbled!"
"That can't come from nowhere-" I begin.
"She didn't say it could," Lelianna retorts. I glare at her, and she back.
"Enough!" Cassandra shouts. "This is getting us nowhere!"
"Well, we're agreed on that much," I snap back and cross my arms.
We fall into silence and I walk over to the edge of the campfire. Lelianna sits on the floor next to Josephine and Cassandra takes my spot by the map of Thedas. I run my fingers through my hair, wanting more than anything for this headache to go so I can think clearly. It is a luxury to argue, we know that, but it doesn't make it any better.
I feel eyes on my back so I turn to see Lyla standing by the edge of the healer's tent, looking at each of us in turn. I feel a great sense of shame for her to see me - and all of the advisors - argue so bitterly at each other. It is clear to me that she is who we need to follow. I've known it for a while now, but perhaps I'm not the only one. We look at each other and I am in disbelief at her survival still. She looks weak and still very pale but also her eyes which had been so bright, full of energy and mischief are dulled. I cannot even bring myself to smile at her, for I am in total awe of her and will gladly kneel at her feet if she commanded it. I am hers to command, I see that now.
"Shadows fall, and hope has fled.
Steel your heart, the dawn will come."
Mother Giselle begins a low chant. I watch as villages and soldiers close in, each wanting to see Lyla alive and awake.
"The night is long,
and the path is dark.
Look to the sky,
for one day soon,
The dawn will come."
Lelianna looks up and continues, whilst others follow.
"The shepherd's lost, and his home is far.
Keep to the stars, the dawn will come."
I watch a solider next to me step forward and join in.
"The night is long,
and the path is dark.
Look to the sky,
for one day soon,
the dawn will come."
They are kneeling, kneeling at her feet. I am not surprised: hope is filling us once more… all because of her.
"Bare your blade,
and raise it high.
Stand your ground,
the dawn will come.
The night is long
and the path is dark.
Look to the sky,
for one day soon,
the dawn will come."
Smiles break out and hugs are shared. Solas is by Lyla's side and whispers something in her ear. Curiously, she follows him out of the camp, but I let it slide. Whilst I do not want her out of my sight, I know I am in no position to be selfish of her. I wait for the moment when she will come and speak to me.
"Here," Lyla says, pointing to a spot on the map, north of Haven.
"You are sure?" Cassandra asks, her eyebrows raised.
"Solas knows of it and I trust Solas. So yes, I am sure," she replies, determined.
"I'll send my agents out ahead to investigate-"
"No," Lyla interrupts. We are all looking at her, and I think the others are impressed. "We cannot stay here any long: we all march towards this fort at the crack of dawn. That way, we can get there as swiftly as possible. Our supplies are low - it's the only way."
"It will be hard," I say. "Some of the survivors are recovering from injuries sustained in the attack at Haven."
"We will go at their pace. It is essential we stay together. That way we can reach the fort with hope renewed."
"It is a good plan, Herald," I say, and I'm rewarding with a quick, faint smile.
I do not see her as we prepare to leave - I'm tied to my duty ensuring all troops are ready and able to move out in the morning. Tents are packed up and by the time dawn comes, Lyla is standing at the edge of the pass, waiting for all to follow her. And we do follow her.
It is not an easy path, but the weather holds. Lyla takes the time to walk down through the marching column to speak to the sick who are being carried, or the mothers with babes in their arms. Her compassion gives hope and her survival leaves them in just as much awe of her as I.
It is on the fourth day of solid marching, that I move up the column to come nearer to the front. There are murmurs among the travellers that we are getting close, and Lyla spends more time leading us all along the path. I catch up with her as we climb a steep hill and she strides forwards.
We walk in a companionable silence for a few moments, which I completely relish. I still cannot believe she is here: a living and breathing being walking beside me as she leads her followers. I know we are a long way from being safe, but she is here, so close that as we walk, sometimes our arms brush and I get an electric thrill down my spine. There is much more hope now, and I cannot help but look at her as we walk. I am supposed when I see that she is looking at me.
My face warms, and she smiles before looking down at her feet. It's all changed again. There might be a chance… why should I banish the thought? It might not be totally impossible. It's excitement I feel as we steal glances at each other.
But before I can speak, Solas approaches from behind. "We are close - come with me," he says to Lyla.
Immediately her face is set with determination and she jogs uphill with Solas, until they disappear over the ridge. I fall back and send scouts to follow them both, just incase. Something about Solas is unsettling me - how does he know of this fort in the mountains? But then I trust Lyla completely, and she trusts Solas, as much as I hate to acknowledge that fact.
"Commander?" It's Cassandra, catching up with me. The path is steeper and I realise I'm walking alone since Lyla went off with Solas.
"Hullo," I say. "Solas believes we are close."
She sighs. "That is good… you know I've been thinking about what's next."
I glance at her. "Next?"
"We need a leader of the Inquisition, and I think, well so does Lelianna, that perhaps-"
"Lyla," I say. It's not a question.
"Yes. What do you think?"
I do not hesitate. "I'll admit, I've been thinking the same. She is the Inquisition, through and through. All these people already follow her - it's only natural."
"And you?" she asks. "Would you follow her?"
"To my death," I say simply.
Cassandra gives me a strange look. I realise that perhaps I've been a little too honest in my answer. My face warms and she opens her mouth to say something when one of my scouts returns from the ridge above.
"Commander!" he calls, saluting. "We have visual of the fort!"
There are cries of relief and joy behind me as the word is spread. I can't help but smile as I break into a run and catch up with Lyla and Solas who are stood, looking down at the valley below.
"Skyhold," Solas says.
I observe the fort nestled in the valley. It is vast and domineering, hidden away in the desolation of the mountains. There are trees peering out of courtyards, and some of the walls are crumbling, but other than that, it appears to have been left untouched but in good condition. It could not be more perfect.
By the afternoon of the following day, we are rested and exploring the grounds of Skyhold. More and more travellers are streaming through the gates and setting up camp in the grounds as excavation work begins to clear rooms. There is no time to waste on getting the fort habitable and set as the base for the Inquisition. But before that, we need the leader.
I stand waiting at the foot of the infirmary with Lelianna and Josephine. The Ambassador is almost giddy with excitement and I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm: it is contagious. Cassandra's plan to make Lyla the leader of the Inquisition was the only thing we could all agree on with no arguments. I feel my chest swell with pride at the thought of Lyla being the Inquisitor.
And there she is - in the doorway of the infirmary, looking around the grounds and smiling. She spots us waiting, and Cassandra beckons her over. I reluctantly walk away with the others as they chat, and head towards the gates where my soldiers and the surviving villagers and refugees are assembling. Moments pass, and the atmosphere is crackling with excitement. This is history happening, right here and now.
Hesitantly, Lyla steps up towards Lelianna and looks down at us all. I beam back at her, my pride overwhelming.
She smiles faintly and turns to Cassandra. They speak but I cannot catch the words. She eventually takes the sword from Lelianna, and turns it in her hands. "With fear running rampant, they need to see a mage standing for what is right," she says, her voice clear and crisp. "I'll defeat Corypheus standing with them, not over them."
"Wherever you lead us," Cassandra says, bowing her head. "Have our people been told?" She calls to the crowd.
"They have," Josephine replies from beside me. "And soon, the world."
"Commander! Will they follow?" she cries.
I draw my sword and turn to my troops. "Inquisition! will you follow?"
They cheer, so loud it rings in my ears. "Will you fight?" They respond by banging their shields or applauding. "Will we triumph?" It's overwhelming - they cry her name and reach towards her. I turn and raise my blade. "Your leader, your Herald - your Inquisitor!"
They flood forward around me and there are celebrations. I see the Iron Bull step forward with his Chargers to open a barrel of ale, which is passed around. There is music from somewhere and a very informal party begins. I walk up to the entrance hall with Josephine to join Lelianna and Lyla.
We push open the large doors and walk in together, but Lyla leads us. I notice her back straighten as she steps forwards and we walk down the length of the hall. Debris covers the floor and there's a hole in the roof, but it's not uninhabitable. We gaze around.
"So this is where it begins," I say, taking in the high ceiling, the massive beams, the empty fireplaces.
"It began in the courtyard. This is where we turn that promise into action." Lelianna says from behind me.
"But what do we do?" Josephine looks around at the stained tapestries and broken tables. "We know nothing about this Corypheus except that he wanted your mark."
Lyla is looking down at her hand and a pang of concern hits me. None of us can understand what it must be like to have the anchor, and I wonder if it's painful. And now we've given her more responsibility and doubtless sleepless nights. But she does not complain.
"Someone out there must know something about Corypheus," she says finally.
I sigh. "Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he even exists."
"But we do have one advantage," Lelianna muses. "We know what Corypheus intends to do next. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated."
"Imagine the chaos her death would cause. With his army…" Josephine trails off.
"An army he will bolster with a massive force of demons, or so the future tells us." I cross my arms. The bad future in Lyla's report had been so grossly disturbing, I had not even had the chance to talk to her personally about it. Part of me was curious if she knew of my fate… the other part of me really did not want to know. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must've been like to have been there.
"Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god," Josephine exclaims.
Lelianna sighs in exasperation. "I would feel better if we knew more about what we were dealing with-."
"I know someone who can help with that," a voice behind us interrupts.
Varric is striding towards us, a sheepish smile on his face. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend… she's crossed paths with Corypheus before and may know more about what he's doing. She can help.
"I'm always looking for new allies. Introduce me," Lyla says.
The dwarf looks over his shoulder and I know exactly who he's talking about. My stomach drops.
"Parading around might cause a fuss. It's better for you two to meet privately, on the battlements."
I do not miss the glance Lelianna and Josephine give each other. So, they've figured it out too.
"Trust me," Varric says, turning away. "It's complicated."
We stand in silence for a moment before Josephine breaks the tension I think Lyla is oblivious to. "Well then, we stand ready to move on both these concerns."
"On your orders, Inquisitor," I say, trying the title for the first time. She barely glances at me, looking instead at Varric's receding figure.
"I know one thing," Lelianna says quietly. "If Varric has brought who I think he has, Cassandra is going to kill him."
I try to smile in response, but just can't. If it is, indeed, who we think it is, then that's another person from my past, who knows my past. How can I explain to Lyla that I'm not like that anymore? That I'm ashamed of what I did and didn't do? It's a sobering thought as I watch Lyla walk to the war room.
That evening I linger in the war room long after the meeting has adjourned and I'm alone. I am reluctant to return to my tent in the courtyard, just needing time away before I face the inevitable meeting with Hawke.
I mull over some reports by candlelight and rearrange a few markers before I reach out for some blank parchment and a quill. I begin to write:
Dear Mia,
The last few weeks have been… interesting to say the least. I am alive and well and at our new base in the middle of the mountains astride the Orlesian and Fereldan border.
Haven was a mess. An absolute, and terrible loss of life. But I know it could've been worse if it had not been for her - the Inquisitor.
I now know that not only do I care for her, but when I thought she was lost at Haven, I didn't know how I could continue. I am realising that I am falling for her terribly, and I just can't let myself believe that anything will ever happen. I daydream, I pray, but I know I cannot. She is now leading the Inquisition and I am her Commander. Her faithful Commander. I will miss her talks with me down at the training yard in Haven. I will miss the feeling of just wanting to know her, not knowing that I loved her. Before I loved her. Shit. Mia, this is so beyond me. Any genuine, sisterly advice would be much appreciated...
I scribble out the last line and then scribble over the whole letter before tearing it up and sprinkling it into the fire.
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