Chapter 11 - Escape
Dorian moved quickly with Varric leading the way to the Chantry. True to his word, Cullen marked the steep escape route and the two men were able to follow despite gusting snow and high winds. Though initially, they had to avoid the flames consuming brush and building alike as they'd traversed the village, to their great relief there were no enemies to challenge them as they moved through the upper forest and onto the open path through the Frostbacks.
From their vantage point at the top of the pass high above Haven they could just make out the Herald's last position. Doggedly plowing through deep drifts, they made frequent, short stops to watch behind for any sign of Sian, but to no avail. Out of breath from the climb, they spied the main body of the Inquisition moving further into the mountains and hurried to join them. As they approached, the rear guard parted to allow Leliana and Cullen through.
Leliana was the first to reach them, her face alarmed as she surveyed the scene, hand gripping her cloak against the wind. A quick word to her scouts brought a stretcher and Dorian was rapidly relieved of Cassandra's unconscious body. Immediately, Vivienne began ministering to the wounded Seeker.
"What happened?! Where is the Herald?" Leliana urgently questioned the mage and the rogue.
Varric kicked the snow in disgust and cast his eyes down the steep incline toward the burning village in the distance. "She got cut off from us. The trebuchet was positioned, almost ready to fire – but the Elder One and his dragon interrupted our escape plan. The Herald ordered us to get the Seeker out of there – for us to go ahead." Rubbing his neck, he sighed mournfully. "She was supposed to follow."
"Our bejeweled little friends seem to be inconvenienced at the moment. The flames surrounding the village have no doubt detained them." Dorian added, stretching his back. "We were fortunate to get away with our lives – it was a close call."
"The Herald is still down there?!" Cullen stepped to the ridge and squinted to the village perimeter far below.
"I'm afraid she is." Brow furrowed, Dorian joined him. "The Elder One dropped in on her just as we made it to the Chantry. At that point, the flames in the village cut us off. In any event, we were too far away to be of assistance."
As the survivors of Haven and the leaders of the Inquisition watched horror-stricken, they witnessed the boulders launched from the trebuchet strike the opposing ridge, unleashing the planned avalanche on the village. In the blink of an eye, the fires of Haven were extinguished by countless tons of ice and snow and the village was rapidly interred in the frosty maelstrom. Through the settling clouds of debris and smoke, the silhouette of a dragon with a lone rider was just visible as it made its escape through the swirling mists above.
"No one could survive that." Cullen's head dropped to his chest. His voice resounded with desperation as he spoke. "We've got to get these people moving. The Elder One appears to have moved on for now but more of his army could still be out there."
"We do not know that, Cullen!" Leliana's eyes were narrowed, her mouth set in resistance to the observation. "She may yet live. We cannot simply abandon her!"
Arms crossed, Dorian cast his support to the Spymaster. "I would agree. Ser Trevelyan has proven extremely difficult to kill. She may yet live – and I, for one, would not discount that possibility."
The sound of a timid voice piped up behind the Spymaster. "Sister Nightingale." Lieutenant Harding moved in with a small squad of scouts. "With your permission, we volunteer to search."
"It would be very dangerous for you. Are you certain you're all willing to take the risk?" Cullen asked warily.
"We are." Harding solemnly gestured to her squad. "It's the least we can do, and in any event, you need to know if we're being followed. We'll look for the Herald and report in as soon as we can."
Leliana's smile was tight, but her eyes reflected her gratitude. "You have my permission and our thanks. I will be waiting for your report, Lieutenant. Look for us farther up the path into the mountains. Go – and may Andraste guide your steps."
The intrepid scout and her squad rapidly moved down the trail toward Haven and were swiftly out of sight as Vivienne approached the Spymaster. "Sister Leliana dear, I've done all I can for Cassandra under these conditions, but she took a particularly nasty blow to her head. I seriously doubt that she will awaken anytime soon. She can travel in one of the wagons, but she needs rest to fully recover. I would strongly suggest that we not delay making camp for long."
The Spymaster felt her stomach churning as she followed the healer to the unconscious Seeker's side. Cassandra was pale and unnaturally still, but her breaths were deep and even. Leliana knelt beside her and stroked her arm affectionately. She knew the Seeker to be tough. She knew Vivienne spoke the truth. But, she also had a feeling that if Sian had perished – a part of the Seeker might very well follow and the Inquisition with them.
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Slush dripped from an ice flow perched above and pooled on the Herald's face, the chill bringing her to wakefulness as it streamed down her neck. Sian wasn't certain how long she'd lingered on the frost-covered cave floor, but as she opened her eyes, twilight seemed to be filtering from the ragged mine shaft opening far overhead. It seemed odd to feel like every fiber, every bone of her body was on fire while at the same time she trembled, her joints and flesh stiffened with cold. Little puffs of steam issued from her lips reminding her with each painful breath that life still filled her chest. Gritting her teeth, she tried to rise but she soon realized that heavy door-frame timbers had followed her sudden descent and now rested across her body. She pushed against them and felt them give, but she was too weakened, too depleted to move them.
It seemed an absurdity as she thought of her situation. She'd escaped not only Corypheus and his dragon, but the avalanche she started with the trebuchet. She winced as she considered the amount of ice and snow she was now trapped beneath. It seemed a supernatural joke that she would survive the confrontation and the cataclysm above only to die trapped in a hole in the ground. But even if she was dying, she'd given her companions a chance, given the people of Haven a chance, to escape Corypheus's wrath. Her last muzzy thought as she lost consciousness for the second time was of Cassandra – did she survive or would she see her somewhere beyond the Veil?
Hours ticked by while Sian lay senseless beneath the debris. As the temperature dropped with the coming of night she felt her eyes open and realized she was in complete darkness except for the glow of the Mark. She heard earth shifting in the distance – the mine could collapse and there could be anything lurking within the shafts. If she wanted to live – then she needed to move. No one would know to search here, no one would find her – there was no help coming.
She pushed herself up and felt a piece of the skin on her jaw tear away and a piercing pain in her chest as she began to rise from the frozen floor. Ignoring the burn of it, she got to her knees, took a deep, rasping breath and pushed with her shoulders until the timbers shifted, then fell flat from the effort. Allowing herself a moment's rest, she pushed up again and felt the frozen door frame slide away into the dark. Free from the detritus, she was able to gradually stand, her extremities trembling. She knew she was badly injured and freezing but she felt strengthened by the reassuring heft of Sulevin sheathed to her back.
Using the Mark as a feeble torch, she could just make out the mine walls. Cautiously, she began to work her way along them. She had no idea where they led, but there was no other way out so she followed. Her movements were slow, she felt like she was walking underwater. With every step she felt electricity shoot through her body and her eyes involuntarily stream as she struggled to endure. There was no sense of time, no way to determine distance.
Leaning against a cavern wall, her chin resting on her chest, she tried to work through the jumble of thoughts in her head and the agony in her flesh. Corypheus's words filled her with questions and dread, she had no idea if the people of Haven and her comrades still lived and where they were. Worse, she knew she needed help and she had no idea where she was going. In the grip of despair, it seemed pointless to move.
"Find me in the present." Cassandra's inimitable voice seemed to speak words of hope and faith next to her ear. "I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path with my eyes closed, yet I see The Light is here."
Closing her eyes, she could clearly see the Seeker's face as she'd stood in the Chantry and remembered her phantom touch in the dungeon at Redcliffe. She felt her eyes steam as she recalled how pale and unmoving she was when Dorian carried her away. "For you – because of you, I want to live." Sian whispered, her heart intent on finding its way to Cassandra.
Decision made, Sian set her jaw and force-marched every step. It felt like she'd journeyed for hours when she came to a cavern that lit the Mark up like a brush-fire. Her body had passed beyond mere cold and pain to utter lack of feeling long before now, but her marked hand burned as hot as a brand. Demons? A rift? She wasn't sure but it didn't matter. Her only focus was on finding the Seeker and if she had to go through demons to do it – so be it.
Shortly, she passed the mouth of the cave and a flock of fiends descended. As she wearily raised her hand, she realized that the Mark had altered somehow – it pulsed, danced with light in time to the rhythm of her heart. Thinking back to the energy she felt on the platform as she made light, she instinctively knew what to do. Casting her palm over the heads of the onslaught, she summoned a rift and felt her eyes widen as it effortlessly pulled the demons within it. Snatching her hand back, she closed the tear, sealing the horde in the Fade.
Beyond exhausted, body too numb to care, she shuffled through the cavern and into the elements of the wild, vaguely making a note to have a long talk with Solas – if she ever saw him again.
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The Seeker awoke with a start. Blinking, she started to rise and felt a hand on her shoulder. "Lie back, Cassandra." A kind voice told her through the ringing in her ears.
The light hurt her eyes, but she forced herself to focus anyway. Countless questions thrust into the forefront of her mind as the fog began to lift from her senses. Shooting spots momentarily obscured her vision, but they soon cleared and she could see Leliana's worried face. "Where – where are we?" The words came out like a croak from her dry throat. "How long? What of the people? Are they safe?"
"Drink this, it will help." The Spymaster eased her up and offered her a mug of spiced Antivan tea. "You are safe, my friend. The enemy has retreated and we have been camped here, in the Frostbacks, since last night. And, yes – with the notable exception of the troops who gave their lives defending us, almost all of the villagers and refugees escaped."
Indeed, as she sipped the soothing brew, she realized she was safe. Warm, clean and resting under a number of thick blankets, she was horrified to discover that she was also nude.
The look on her face evoked an ironic snort from her friend. "There is no need to worry. Your unquestionable virtue is intact. No one has seen you like this except for me - and Lady Vivienne as she has worked to heal you."
"Good." She replied flatly, beginning to gather a blanket around her, her eyes searching for her garments. "How is it that I came to be here?" Suddenly, she stopped and stared at Leliana. "Where is the Herald?"
"Dorian and Varric brought you under her orders." Leliana glanced at her hands, a slight grimace marring her delicate features. She took a shuddering breath, closed her eyes and spoke quietly, her voice grave, the words seeming to stick in her throat. "But - the Herald is missing."
"Missing!" The Seeker's brain was a sudden storm of activity. Rapidly, she tried to think back, to remember. "We were fighting the Knight-Captain… and she – she made light. I must have my clothing, Leliana! I must find her!" Frantic, eyebrows raised to the tent beam, she tried to stand, only to feel her legs give out from under her and lightning shoot through her brain.
"No." Sister Nightingale told her firmly, her grip steady as she helped her lie back on the cot. "You are lucky you're not dead. You nearly broke your skull. It's a good thing Pentaghasts are made of dragonbone, no?" Tucking the blanket around her, she continued. "If you promise to stay in bed, I will give you your clothes and find Dorian or Varric. One of them can explain what happened better than I."
Concern for Sian overrode her stubborn streak and Cassandra acquiesced. "Very well. I promise to do so."
"I have scouts backtracking, searching the area for her. I expect to hear from them soon." Leliana assured her, lightly chafing her hand. "We will find her, Cassandra."
In truth, Cassandra thought about breaking her promise in the Spymaster's absence, but she tried again to rise and her head began to violently spin. For a time she lay in quiet, listening to the sounds of the bustling camp outside the tent. But she could not rest. Instead her thoughts turned to Sian. During the Elder One's attack, Trevelyan had worked miracles.
The events of the day before reeled in the Seeker's mind. She could see Sian's face as they prayed together in the chapel. The Herald had shone with an unnatural light and when she'd cast her caring, determined eyes on the Seeker, it had been all Cassandra could do to breathe.
Absently, she felt for the leather cord holding the amulet around her neck and for a moment she felt Sian's fingertips as she traced the length, her touch tender. Cassandra quivered as she reached for the rune and felt its warmth healing her, protecting her. Without it, she was sure she would have died. It was certain she would have died if Sian hadn't stopped the creature attacking her at the trebuchet. How had she managed it? She recognized the magic as an invocation of the purifying power the Seekers of Truth called Embrace the Light. The Herald appeared to exhibit abilities only granted to Seekers. How was it possible?
In the temple, Sian had referred to her as "my Light". What did she mean? It was abundantly clear that Sian was much more than just another just another warrior. She was extraordinary. Cassandra thought to those last moments in the Chantry. Sian had been willing to sacrifice herself for the people – and personally, for me. As she heard the words from the Herald's lips offering herself in exchange for their lives it had stricken her heart. It couldn't have come to that. Images of Sian lying broken, wounded, alone, dead or dying in the depths of late winter grieved her deeply. Where are you? Sweet Andraste guide her, bring her back to us… to me…
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As night covered the Inquisition's campsite, Leliana stood at the outskirts watching into the darkness. Snowflakes settled into little drifts on her hood as she leaned against a crag. From time to time, she shuffled her feet to ward off the numbing cold attacking her toes.
"How long have you waited?" Cassandra asked briskly as she joined her, her headache diminished to a dull roar.
"Much longer than I might wish." The Spymaster answered wryly, blowing into her gloved hands. "What are you doing up and about?"
"I could tolerate it no longer." Cassandra pulled her Seeker's cloak closed, her arms crossed beneath it. "You know I am not one to lie abed when there is much to be done."
"Or, when the Herald is missing." Her eyebrow canted knowingly, Leliana shifted upright.
Choosing to let the Sister's remark pass, Cassandra pressed her concerns. "Has there been word from the scouts?"
"Yes. One of our ravens returned a short time ago. They are close and should report in soon." The Spymaster squinted and was just able to make out several forms approaching in the snow. "Lieutenant Harding!" She beckoned.
Shoulders slumped, steps slow in the pristine depths, the scouts wearily made their way in. "Sister Nightingale, Seeker Pentaghast." Harding nodded respectfully, shivering.
"What did you find?" Leliana inquired softly, her voice a chime in the wind.
The scout's teeth chattered despite her heavy winter gear as she made her report. "Nothing helpful I'm afraid. The village is completely buried. There's no sign of anyone alive down there. The good news is that there's no sign of the Elder One or his Red Templars following us."
"There is no evidence of the Herald or her whereabouts?" The Seeker's brows gathered.
Harding looked at her feet, then at Cassandra, her eyes despondent. "Believe me, Seeker. We scouted the entire surroundings of Haven and well past the river. We hoped that we'd find her, or a trail – or well, anything that might lead us to her. But there was nothing. I'm truly sorry."
The warrior looked crestfallen. Her head dropped to her chest in silence as Leliana placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, her own eyes filled with strain. "I'm so sorry, Cassandra."
Her eyes compressed, the Seeker held up her hand to ward herself and spoke quietly, her voice stricken. "I need… I must have…" Clearing her throat, she tried to form words. "A moment. Alone."
Leliana nodded, then gesturing to her troops, turned toward her nearby tent.
Cassandra heard a drawn out keen and realized that it issued from her own lips. The breath seemed to have been drawn from her lungs and she gasped, fighting her body's rabid desire to sob. Incredulous, she rested her fevered head against the crag Leliana had vacated and she prayed. "This cannot be. Maker, hear my plea. Do not take yet another from me. I can bear no more of this."
She stood for some time in the bitter cold, heedless. Her heart felt like a void in her chest, but it made no sense to stand there waiting when the one she most wanted, needed to see, wouldn't be coming. Pushing herself from the rock, she tearfully looked one last time into the dark perimeter. In the distance, she could just make out snow churning beneath slow footfalls as a lone figure emerged from the shadows of the tree line.
She knew that silhouette on sight and she raced to it, cloak streaming, mindless of any obstacle, heedless of the frosty wind, her face beaming. "Thank the Maker!" She shouted as she drew close. "Leliana! Cullen! It's the Herald!"
Sian's eyes seemed to drink greedily from the Seeker's gaze until she collapsed at Cassandra's feet, smiling serenely as her battered, frozen body gave out.
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Leliana barred the Seeker's way as she attempted to follow Vivienne and the apothecary, Adan, into the healer's tent. "Cassandra, let them work. They will let us know when we may see her."
"But – I…" She sputtered and crossed her arms in defiance. "She should not be – "
"There is nothing you can do right now." Leliana tilted her head away and gently tugged her bicep, urging her away. "Rest, then you may come back when they are finished."
Reluctantly, she gave in. But later, when the healer arrived she immediately came to attention and hurried to get to Sian's side before Adan could even get the words out that it was permissible.
As she arrived at the tent, she rubbed the back of her head, unsure of herself, suddenly conflicted, but unable to stay away. Cautiously she entered to find Vivienne tucking blankets around Sian's still form.
For a moment, she was shocked as she took in the visible damage. The color the healers had restored to the noble's face acted as a backdrop for a patchwork of bruises, raw flesh and scores of cuts, and the visible bits of her upper body were wrapped with tight bandages.
"How bad is it?" Cassandra couldn't begin to imagine where the Herald had been or what she'd gone through to make it back, let alone what she'd encountered after her own head injury. "Will she live?" The words sounded bleak – even to her own ears as she continued to stare.
"In my considered opinion. Yes, she will live." The mage appeared to be quite confident. "It was a close thing. The punctured lung nearly killed her and I don't know how she possibly traveled with a dislocated shoulder, broken collarbone and ribs, and more contusions and lacerations than one of your favorite practice dummies. The freezing temperatures alone were enough to do her in dressed as she was. The Herald is possibly one of the most resilient creatures I've ever met."
In that moment, Cassandra wanted nothing more than to simply be present with Sian. For some reason, she felt compelled to be close and the presence of the mage suddenly felt like an annoyance. Some idea of why flitted close in her mind – but she refused to grasp it. "The Inquisition is grateful for your assistance, Lady Vivienne. If you are finished I wish to stay for a time."
"You are, of course, most welcome for my services, my dear. I'm honored to place my skills at the Inquisition's disposal." Her eyes soulful, Madame de Fer pushed the hair from the unconscious Herald's forehead with one long, meticulously polished nail. "Poor, brave darling. It's as much exhaustion as it is the effects of the cold and her injuries I'm afraid. The best thing for her right now is sleep."
Irritation in her voice, Cassandra protectively slid past the mage to the stool by Sian's cot and sat down. "Then I shall sit here and make certain she is not disturbed."
"A healthy pastime for you, my dear, considering your own injury." The mage lightly laughed. As she tidied the tent, she turned to the Seeker, a graceful smile on her mouth, her voice measured and deliberate. "Cassandra, you care a great deal for our Herald."
"Of course I do." The Seeker scowled defensively, crossing her arms. "She is my friend."
"What an interesting definition!" Vivienne's eyes twinkled as they met hers. "Truly, it might bode well for you to rethink that."
"I do not take your meaning." Cassandra seethed, feeling her earlobes burn. "Why should I do so?"
"Darling, you are the Seeker of Truth here. I believe you well know exactly what I mean, and very likely why you might do so." Elegantly pivoting to leave, the mage looked at her pointedly. "Oh – and you simply must pass on my admiration for that lovely piece of jewelry you're wearing. Besides being a sweetly sentimental, perfectly sensible fashion statement – it very effectively augmented my healing skills. Quite – fortuitous. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Ugh." Cassandra scoffed as the mage departed, though her inner child was goading her to stick out her tongue. Normally she regarded Vivienne with respect, but her knowing, condescending inferences and the way she'd gazed fawningly upon Sian put her teeth on edge.
With an eagerness that surprised her, she turned to the sleeping Herald. Though she knew they were close in age, the noble looked terribly young, almost fragile by the light of the brazier. Resting her hands on her knees, she steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them, studying the noble. Reminded of the healing power of her own rune, she reached for the hilt of Sulevin and carefully placed it just under the edge of the covers with the matching rune in the pommel touching Sian's hand. Easing back, she resumed her contemplative posture.
Sian Trevelyan, former Knight-Captain of Ostwick, had become an enigma. Capable of channeling power, skilled with her blade and her mind, decisive and strong-willed, she had a great deal in common with the Seeker. But deep down, Cassandra knew there was more. She'd never experienced physical and emotional attraction to a woman before and the intensity of their connection stole her breath away. The potential depth was more than she could imagine. Were they friends, or as Vivienne and others had intimated, was there something else?
As Cassandra continued her reverie, she was astounded as she thought about how frequently and miraculously Sian had escaped death. But this time, she'd come so close and instead of the Seeker protecting her, she'd protected the Seeker. Cassandra's own thoughts just a few hours before came back to haunt her. She remembered praying, "Do not take yet another from me." Another?!
When the truth hit Cassandra it felt like the world had fallen from beneath her feet. When she realized that she meant "another that I love"– she felt the color drain from her face. Is this so? The ones I love are taken from me. This cannot be – she must remain my friend.
The Herald of Andraste lay before her and immediately her thoughts went to her own failure to protect Sian. Unwilling to even consider that she had been grievously wounded, she berated herself for her own carelessness and vowed it would not happen again. She could not allow herself to believe that anything more was permissible. Aside from the fact that being with a woman was foreign idea, the Inquisition needed the Herald. She needed to put duty first and that meant containing her own emotions and any curiosity or desire that followed them as well.
But, even in her unconscious state, the Herald drew her as easily as a butterfly is drawn to a cone flower. Thin rivulets streamed from her temples as she convinced herself that for the few hours left of this night she would open her heart, but that with the light of day – she would make it her mission to resist. Tenderly, she smoothed the incorrigible ruffle of hair over Sian's ear and kissed her delicately on the forehead as her heart broke. I must never speak, or think - of this again.
