Chapter 12: Lodestar, II


Red Templars. It doesn't take much to realize there's something wrong with them. The sight's ghastly enough, with red lyrium growing out of skin and bone. Worse are the looks some of the men and women have – they seem… content? Is that the right word for it? They don't seem to mind the beasts they're becoming. They swing harder than any Templar he'd fought, move faster, and hit harder, but so does he.

Securing the first trebuchet was an easy enough task. Cassandra and Varric covered one side while he and Blackwall manned the other, buying enough time for the troops to finish arming it. A voice rings loudly in his head telling him to move, to move now, and he does, just barely dodging a sharpened shard of red lyrium headed right toward him. Maker. He feels… hypersensitive to the battle – stronger, faster, better able to predict his enemy's moves. He wipes his brow after striking down the last Templar. Is this Valor's strength?

"Centered and clear!" One of the soldier's manning the trebuchet calls out before letting the round loose, "Firing!" The projectile cuts through the air, crashing right into the mass of torches gathering in the distance. It's not enough, though. They'll be swarmed before they make a dent at this rate. "They felt that! We'll reload – you get to the other trebuchet! It isn't firing!"

Dederick nods at the soldiers, "I don't want any of you playin' hero!" He barks out before waving his companions ahead, "If more come, fall back and join the Commander!"

The second trebuchet is overrun. They arrive just in time to watch the last living soldier get cut down trying to arm the weapon. Their eyes meet just before the blade sunk in, and he saw… hope? Hope that got drowned out in pain and then nothingness. It makes his blood boil, and magic not quite his own starts to swell around him like a cloak. No one was meant die – today was meant to be a victory. Not this. Anything but this. He charges like a man set on bringing death and destruction. The others follow suit.

Stop. He can't.

"You alright?" Varric calls out beside him. "This trick of yours is new!"

Dederick merely grunts in response. Stop. Not yet. There's still a few more. One more drops, and then another. Stop. The voice booms once more, but he can't. There's just one left standing. He twirls his staff, ready to strike when a sharp pain courses throughout his entire body. He cries out as he drops to his hands and knees, quivering as the cloak of energy ebbs away. He hears his companions call out to him, but their voices are drowned out by another: Your mortal body is not ready to wield such power.

"Herald!" Cassandra. She drops to his side, checking him for injuries, "Are you wounded?"

"I'm alright." He grits out before staggering up to standing, still a bit shaken. "Just… overexerted myself." He shakes his head roughly before peering out at the valley. Just lobbing boulders at the approaching army isn't enough. They need to drown them out… Of course! "We need to aim the trebuchet at the mountains! Drop an avalanche on them and we might buy Haven enough time to retreat!"

They work quickly to realign the trebuchet with Blackwall doing most of the heavy work. Varric picks off most of the invaders before they manage to get close. Any that do are cut down by Cassandra. Things are going smoothly. A good thing considering there's an odd sensation under his skin, like pins and needles prodding him all over. It makes it hard to focus on keeping the barrier shielding him and Blackwall up, but he manages. "Done!" The Warden announces gruffly.

Dederick nods and lets his barrier flicker away for the trebuchet to fire. The mountainside comes to life with the impact, shaking loose all the snow that now cascades down to swallow up most of the army. A few soldiers in the back start to cheer and Dederick joins in, patting Blackwall on the shoulder, "Nicely done." The moment doesn't last. A shrill noise silences everyone. Out from behind the mountains emerges a high dragon, dark and tainted… and heading right towards them. "Back! Everyone back!" The explosion sends them all reeling. Maker, it's just one thing after another.

"Shit!" Varric lends him a hand standing up, "Who ordered the end of the damn world"

"I'm startin' to wonder the same thing." Dederick rolls his shoulders before helping a few others up onto their feet, "Everyone to the gates!"

They make their way back quickly, stopping only once to help Harritt get inside the building with all his supplies. Maker knows if they survive this, they'll need him at his best afterwards. Dozens of Inquisition forces crowd through the gate, trying to get to safety. The commander's already at the gate, ushering everyone in and trying to maintain order. He waves them over once he spots them and shuts the gate. It won't stop a dragon, but it should hold off some of the Templars.

"We need everyone back to the Chantry! It's the only building that might hold against… that beast!" Cullen starts to climb the stone steps before pausing and turning to face him, a grim expression marking his features. "At this point… Just make them work for it."

Dederick can't stand the look on the other man's face. "We're getting' through this, Commander." Cullen's eyes soften at his words before steeling again. He nods at him once before turning to head to the Chantry.

Varric wipes Bianca off with the sleeve of his jacket before lifting her up, "Let's get people to safety."

"Agreed." Cassandra chimes in.

One by one they find people in need of aid. Lysette, Seggritt, Flissa, Adan, Minaeve, Threnn. Not one of them died on his watch. Some were more injured than the others, but they still had their lives. A few Templar stragglers managed to climb over the walls, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. If Andraste had chosen him to be her herald, where is she? No matter how many people they save, they're surrounded and backed into a corner. If he dies… No. He refuses to think that – not with so many depending on him.

They lead the remaining survivors to the Chantry. There, Chancellor Roderick clung to bloodied patch on his tunic, barely managing to stand "Move, keep going!" His voice is hoarse. "The Chantry is your shelter!" The doors seal behind them. Dederick yanks off his headband and takes a moment to watch the scene before him. There's so much chaos. Women and children crying. Healthy tending to the wounded. The people are afraid.

"He tried to stop a Templar." Cole's voice drives him to turn around, half wondering where the boy'd even come from. He slings Chancellor Roderick's arm around his shoulder and helps ease him into a nearby chair. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

"What a charming boy." The chancellor responds drily before letting himself drop onto the chair, wheezing.

Cullen approaches him, body tense, "Herald. Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

"I've seen an archdemon," Cole speaks up, crouched beside the Chancellor, "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that." In the Fade? Archdemons? What exactly are they dealing with… and what exactly is Cole?

"I don't care what it looks like," Cullen barks out angrily, and Cole flinches slightly, "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village. He only wants the Herald." That sends a shiver down his spine.

"Why?" He manages to croak out, "Why does he want me?"

"I don't know." Cole tilts his head as if trying to listen in on something, "He's too loud. It hurts to hear him." Compassion. What? The voice doesn't answer. "He wants to kill you," Cole continues, "No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like –" Cullen grunts and stops himself, choosing to focus on Dederick instead. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable." He doesn't believe that. "The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets – cause one last slide."

"We're overrun." Dederick grimaces, "Doin' that means buryin' Haven."

"We're dying, but we can decide how." There's something pained in Cullen's eyes, something old and buried deep. "Many don't get that choice."

Cole gasps, drawing their attention, "Yes, that." He grips the Chancellor's hand tight, "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

Chancellor Roderick tries to sit up, "There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd made the Summer Pilgrimage. As I have." The man struggles onto his feet, one hand pressed close to his stomach, but he watches Dederick with hope and remorse, "The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must've shown me… so I could tell you."

Andraste… Is she really on his side? Can they do this? Dederick turns to Cullen, "Will that work, Cullen?"

"Possibly. If he shows us the path." Cullen steps closer to him, trying to draw his gaze. He looks away. "But… what of your escape?" Dederick doesn't answer. He can't. "Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way…" Dederick only looks once he hears his armored boots backing away. "Inquisition!" His voice booms though the building, "Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry! Move!"

Cole sidles up to the Chancellor, offering himself as support for the other man. They start to walk before Roderick places a hand on his shoulder. "Herald… If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.

Dederick smiles sadly and nods, "Pray for us all, Chancellor."

Cole lets the Chancellor guide him to the back of the Chantry, disappearing behind the gathering crowd. They can all be safe. The same can't be guaranteed for him. If he survives, Andraste must be watching over him. He runs a gloved hand down his face before spotting the commander approaching a few token soldiers. "They'll load the trebuchets." The soldiers nod before jogging past him, "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line. If we are to have a chance," Cullen's voice breaks slightly, "If you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you."

"Cullen," Dederick calls out once the other man turns to leave. Cullen stops, and glances at him wearily. He takes a few steps closer, head clouded with a dozen different possibilities, before reaching out to the taller man and cupping the back of his head with his hand. He tugs Cullen down and presses their foreheads together, taking in a shuddery breath. His eyes close for a few seconds, relishing the brief contact, before he opens them to stare into Cullen's hazel pair. "Don't die. That's an order."

"Likewise." Cullen manages to get out.

Dederick nods into the gesture before pulling away, a dozen things left unsaid. He takes a few steps back before reaching out, magic swirling around his hands. He swears he can feel a second pair of hands guiding his own as a shimmering barrier emerges from wall to wall. His hands fall limp at his sides, resolute. "So long as I or these walls stand, nothin's comin' behind you." They share one last look before turning to head their own ways.