CROSSROADS
"What is this place called?" Zanrye asked Morrigan as he walked through the eluvian and into the pale glow that washed over the various pathways around them. It almost looked like a road, or a piece of a city. As soon as Mima had left, Morrigan had taken him aside. Zanrye did not know what to expect from the eluvian but certainly did not think he'd find himself here.
"If this place once had a name, it has long been lost." Morrigan replied. Zanrye stepped forward towards the basin in the middle of the cobblestones—if they were cobblestones. He could not tell. He felt as though he were in the fade…and in the real world. Morrigan's voice came back. "I call it the crossroads."
"The crossroads." Zanrye repeated, speaking the word true for himself.
"Tis the place where all eluvians join, wherever they might be."
"That's…that's amazing." Zanrye said, not able to stop himself from reaching out with his hand and waving it into the thinly thickened air.
"Your ancestors left no roads." Morrigan said. "Only ruins hidden in far-flung corners. This… this is how they traveled between them." Zanrye nodded slowly, taking it all in. He wished he'd brought Lana with him—to see this. Experience this.
"How did you find out about this place Morrigan?" Zanrye asked.
"My travels have led me to many strange destination, Inquisitor." Morrigan replied. "Once, they led me here." Her voice grew soft. "It offered sanctuary."
"Sanctuary?"
"Not all the mirrors lead back to our world." Morrigan explained. "The ancients were nothing if not…resourceful."
"If they don't lead back to our world, then…?" Zanrye prompted her, confused.
"Places between." Morrigan replied. "Like…this one." She paused. "I can describe it no better." Zanrye was shocked. Morrigan at a loss for words? She can't explain? "For a time…I was safe from those who hunted me. But only for a time. One cannot remain in between forever."
Zanrye said nothing, instead taking the time to take a few more steps around the center. There was not water in the circle, nor was there a bottom. It was more mist, like that surrounding the two of them. More magic….
"As you can see, most of the mirrors are dark: broken, corrupted, or unusable." Morrigan continued, speaking truth, as many—most—were dark.
"And the light ones…?" Zanrye asked.
"A few can be opened from this side." Morrigan said. "But only a few."
"From here?" Zanrye's brow furrowed.
"Well some have been left unlocked—like doors accidentally left ajar." Morrigan explained as she walked around the circular stone. Zanrye followed. "But all others are closed. They can only be opened from beyond."
"How?" Zanrye asked.
"With a key, as any door would require." Morrigan said, and Zanrye could detect the slightest bit of a smirk on her lips.
"And I suppose you have a key." Zanrye replied with a smirk of his own.
"The key can be many things, Inquisitor." Morrigan said. "Each eluvian is different. I have knowledge as well as power. Most times that is enough." Zanrye nodded and thought.
"And so…Corypheus wants…to come here?" He asked. Morrigan nodded. "Because…" he looked about him at the dim lights and then once more down the well. "It feels like…like the fade."
"This, while not the fade, is very, very close." She said. "Someone with enough power could tear down the ancient barriers…"
"And enter the fade in the flesh." It all clicked for Zanrye. "That's what Corypheus wanted to do with the anchor."
"He learned of the eluvian in the arbor wilds as I did." Morrigan nodded. "Though his progress is slow, he will marshal the last of his forces to reach it."
"What more forces does he have?" Zanrye couldn't help but ask. "We've rooted out Venatori, we took away his demon army, we took the mages, we kept Val Royeaux and Teviner from him. He has the Templars I guess…."
"And that's all he may need." Morrigan said, her voice warning as she took strides back to the eluvian. Zanrye moved to keep up with her. She spoke as she walked. "You have made Corypheus desperate, Inquisitor. We must work together to stop him—soon."
PRESENT
SKYHOLD
Zanrye set off to find Solas immediately after he left Morrigan. His friend would surely have more information for him and help absolve him of his lingering confusion. He went to his room but found Solas absent. Zanrye frowned. He went to the meadow outside the tavern and still found nothing. Becoming desperate, he ran back to the steps of the main building and saw the wolf, looking both uncomfortable and angry. Zanrye did not slow his stride.
"No!" Solas said as he thundered down the stairs. With that tone, whatever Cole was trying to convince Solas of, he should know that he was not getting it.
"But you like demons!" Cole was pleading.
"I enjoy the company of spirits, yes," Solas said in a softer voice but did not stop walking. "Which is part of why I do not abuse them with bindings." Zanrye crept closer, his walk slower.
"It isn't abuse if I ask!" Cole insisted.
"Not always true." Solas turned to face him. "Also, I do not practice blood magic which renders this entire conversation academic!" He looked around, perhaps self conscious, and his eyes met Zanrye's. He saw the man's lips stick together. Cole turned as well and made his way over. What did I just walk into?
"He won't bind me!" Cole told Zanrye, as a child might tell on his sibling to their mother. "He's a mage and likes demons but he won't help!"
"Cole…" Zanrye tried to be gentle. "We just got done with the grey wardens trying to raise an army of demons, and red templars all over the graves. And you want Solas to bind you?"
"He has to!" Cole pouted, pacing now. Zanrye looked to Solas whose eyes were grave. "If he won't do the ritual, someone else could—will! Like the warden mages, and then—I'm not me anymore!" He paused, his eyes widening in that far off way, muttering, "Walls around what I want, blocking bleeding, making me a monster…."
"Cole, Cole." Zanrye interjected. "Isn't it extreme to ask Solas to bind you? That could also take away…um…you." He looked to Solas for help. The man gladly spoke up.
"If binding erases your mind?" He spoke with more authority. "Your consciousness?"
"Well you wouldn't make me hurt innocent people." Cole said. His face looked ready to cry. "I don't want to hurt innocent people again." Zanrye sighed, looking over at Solas.
"There has to be middle ground here." He said. "Something between "do nothing" and "have Cold bound with blood magic.""
"Indeed." Solas nodded. "I recall stories of amulets used by Rivaini seers to protect spirits they summoned from rival mages. A spirit, wearing the amulet of the unbound, was immune to blood magic and binding. It should protect Cole as well."
"Good." Cole said firmly, walking away from them. His voice was resolute. "They will not take me." As he made his way off, Solas looked to Zanrye who gave him a frank stare.
"Lethallin." Solas sighed. "It's good that you ran into us, it would seem."
"Is the amulet even real?" Zanrye asked.
"Yes." Solas nodded. "It should not be too hard to obtain. We could get it by the evening if we went now—not us of course but…Leliana…."
"I'll set her to task." Zanrye nodded. They stood there for a brief moment.
"I…" Solas hesitated. "I was actually thinking of you before Cole requested my assistance."
"I was looking for you." Zanrye said suddenly. "I almost forgot."
"What did you need of me?" Solas asked. Zanrye paused, trying to remember.
"Some…elven…knowledge." He said slowly. "But what did you need? Mine wasn't as pinpointed." Solas hesitated once more. He seemed to be deliberating on whether or not to speak, whether or not to share whatever was on his mind. "There won't be time left for words in a few days Solas." That seemed to do the trick as Sola rose his head and nodded.
"Time grows short." He agreed, his eyes on something farther off. "I wonder if we will be triumphant against Corypheus—wonder if all this will have been for naught." His gaze turned back to Zanrye. "I also wonder about you, my friend."
"Still have to wonder?" Zanrye chuckled.
"About you before." Solas explained. "About the wisdom you hold and the mark's effect on it… my effect." The pause that came after was too long. "You have proven friend and family to me, and I expected not to find someone so worthy…." Zanrye's brow furrowed and he stepped over to Solas, hand firmly placed on the man's shoulder.
"You make it sound as if we're already dead, da'fen." He said lowly. "We aren't yet. Almost but not yet. If this succeeds, not for a long time." Solas smiled at him in return yet he was distant.
"Inquisitor." Orulan came strolling up to him and Zanrye instantly nodded to him, deciding then to back away from the issue, pocketing it for a later release.
"I'll tell Leliana about the amulet." He said to Solas. "See if we can take care of these things before the end of the evening."
"You had questions." Solas reminded him. Zanrye nodded, contemplating.
"Questions that can wait." He responded. "Duty calls unfortunately." Orulan had waited patiently and was now side by side with Zanrye as they began their walk. "You have news?"
"Lana waits for you." Orulan said to him. "Tiana has written back. As has your Clan. The scouts are making ground in the Wilds so Biloro feels it's time to make ground ourselves."
"Perfect." Zanrye said. "Alright." He inhaled a breath that was a tad shaky, realizing that thing were indeed speeding up. Though he had so much to do, he realized that he had little time. Morrigan had said it in the crossroads: they needed to act soon. Corypheus was moving slow but not that slow. And whatever he was searching for was in the woods. They had to reach it before he did or all would be lost.
"Everything will be fine." Orulan said to him. "If we can make it through the wilds without fault and then ready Tiana, all will be fine." Zanrye turned his gaze on the ginger haired man now.
"You're right." He agreed. "But I want to make sure everything is in motion. Let's head to Lana now. Has she summoned…?"
"Everyone we need." He nodded.
"Good then." Zanrye said. "Let's gather round and do this."
PRESENT
NEW ARLATHAN
They sat in the back room of the large tent turned building that housed all the leaders and, more specifically, Lana. She had shooed away all her other elven companions and drawn up large maps on the central table, which was rectangular rather than round. Zanrye sat next to her, looking at the wooden figures that she had clearly made herself—as they were jagged and rough. On his right was Orulan, who had stripped from his cloak and thick tunic into a wool shirt and pants. Beside him was Dilys, who was more covered up than usual as the weather in the mountains demanded. Whereas Skyhold parted the trees, New Arlathan was engulfed by them and the sunshine that penetrated carried lesser heat. The parchment before them was a detailed map of southern Thedas, with the colors opposite of what would usually be seen, with the pockets of elven groups being highlighted.
"There are at least a few thousand agents in Orlais already." Zanrye told the table. "So there is no way in all the void that we will lose that area."
"More common elves to your cause." Dilys smiled at him. "And yet you still refuse to take the easy way out—why not just kill this Briala?"
"I was also wondering that." Orulan said. "Tiana has more than enough influence by now."
"Not as much as Briala will have." Lana scoffed. "She is a symbol. She is the rebellion. Without her, we cannot guarantee the power of the city elves behind us."
"But will she turn on us if she finds out?" Dilys pressed. "It will not be so hard to connect us to the assassination."
"She doesn't have a reason to suspect us." Zanrye said. "And if she would connect us, to turn on us for Celene would show that she isn't better than some bed-rabbit."
"She was resolute in the past. But now her resolve weakens the more she spends time with the Empress. Love is a stronger force than almost anything."
"It's more than that." Lana said finally. "Briala. Is. A symbol; of both the revolution and elves in their station in the new Orlais. She is the first and only Marquise."
"But," Orulan suddenly piped up, eyes bright, "If we could get a new Marquise…appointed by Gaspard…." The proposition was a daring one. Enticing, but of low value.
"That would set us back," Zanrye said, frowning as he tried to process it.
"Besides, that would look like the Duke is trying to appease people." Dilys said lightly. "A grasping attempt with a newly-instated ruler. Not quite the ripple that Celene caused, yes?"
"Unless it could be made into a ripple." Orulan said, eyes narrow as the idea filled his head. He tried to speak it to them so they could also see the picture. "If Gaspard's appointee could be just as big as Celene's was—"
"It cannot." Dilys interjected. "Celene has already seized the zeal of newness."
"But not of progress." Orulan said.
"Of course she has." Zanrye scoffed. "There's never been an elf in any high station save for royal jester or bedwarmer."
"What was Briala besides that, though?" Orulan pressed. "Celene appointed her personal elf as the Marquise. The first elf in history but also someone in her pocket and in her bed. Not progressive so much as a display of Celene's power in the end." The idea was just beginning to make sense in Zanrye's mind when Dilys suddenly nodded.
"I…think…he may be right." She said slowly. "Briala will never command the respect that she could otherwise have if Celene was not attached to her skirt."
"Exactly." Orulan continued. "If the Duke introduced another elf as a Marquis or Marquise of his own volition without the sway of love or lust, then that elf would be more accepted and the act would be one of progress."
"Plus, a chevalier's honor—which he is known to have—will act a shield against the forthcoming rumors about his potential romance with said elf." Dilys sounded impressed when she said the words. "And, if Celene and Briala were to be slayed together…"
"Then it would be seen as an assassination on their love." Orulan finished. "That would make it sensational enough for Gaspard's takeover to be seen as a stabilizing force and then his appointment of another elven noble to be seen as a righting of wrongs with a more appropriate elven candidate—free from the reputation that Briala had."
"The new and the old all in one." Dilys smiled now. "That would be nice work if it could be pulled off." Zanrye was taken aback for a time before he inhaled.
"Orulan, I can't tell if you're a historian, a general, or an Orlesian politician." He said somewhat weakly. Orulan smiled at him.
"I'm the Keeper's Second." He said modestly. "And was allowed privilege to travel when and where I pleased. I've learned a lot along the way, your Worship."
"Okay, well apart from the transition in Orlais," Lana interjected, "We need to discuss the movement of our people in both Arlathan, Wycome, the Plains, and the Western Approach. Half of our clan is moving to the Wilds to catch up with your scouts, Nishia included. Biloro…?"
"We are also ready to move," Orulan said. "Completely integrate with the new territories in this New Arlathan empire. Of course some will stay in the Approach, and thus guard Solaslan, but many will come as far as here—around Skyhold. We are already sending a third of our warriors to the wilds as well, to meet with one of our leaders."
"Triangulate movements with Inquisition as well as Lavellan." Zanrye said. "Come to a common location and make sure to stay together in your camps."
"And this mass migration," Orulan continued, "And your Ambassador?" Zanrye paused, thinking. Dilys's eyes were calm and trained on him. As were Lana's.
"Keep the reports steady." He said finally. Dilys's sudden laugh startled him. Her eyes were skeptic and near condescending as they surveyed him piercingly.
"So little trust, my halla?" She asked him. Zanrye felt himself redden, anger building in his gut. She poked too deep. He didn't respond to her and looked instead to Lana.
"How big is Keeper Hawen's camp now?" He asked, referring to the clan he'd met while clearing out venatori, bandits, and fade rifts from the Plains.
"They have been growing, though still refuse to settle. Must keep migrating they say." Lana said. "As to be expected."
"As to be expected." Zanrye sighed. "Alright, so everyone sends a little."
"Rye." She interjected. "Arlathan is growing too. We've now well over a thousand bodies, just some ways away from a full double in a few months." He knew what she meant before she continued. "We keep growing, we'll need more room for expansion without getting too close to the shems. They're already spreading now, as more and more join your Herald cause." Zanrye knew that. He had been preparing for this, trying to wrack his brain for the right way to handle the inevitable. They were not yet ready, he thought. Not ready to fully reveal themselves. They were too few, not enough fighters, not enough families. And not enough time for him to think of what to tell Josephine….
"Just keep expanding further south until I can think of what to do." He said lamely. Lana crossed her arms. "I've been moving as many as I can into Skyhold without—"
"They will know of us in time." Lana said sternly. "Best be prepared for it, Rye."
With that sound scolding, they continued on with their meeting. Since Lana had suggested it, Zanrye had seen fit to bring both Orulan and Dilys into his circle of councilors—Tiana as well. He slowly but soundly got them up to speed and as they gained knowledge of his plans and contributed like they were doing now, he felt the burden of command slowly ease, as if he had been holding in a breath only to now release it into the wind. With Lana's cautious insight, Dilys's savvy ambassador brain, and Orulan's surprising and somewhat ruthless pragmatism, it seemed he had his own second small council for his secondary kingdom. Not an Inquisition precisely but something close. Tiana was also up to speed but she was their liaison with the elves in the city, gaining their trust as quickly as she could.
"Okay, and let's say this works," Zanrye said at their closing, their talk of Orlais once again brought to the forefront, "we need to start thinking of someone that can be Gaspard's Briala."
"And a way to do away with both of them the same day, preferably at the same time." Orulan added. Zanrye withheld a wince at the bluntness of his sentence.
"I will attempt to gather agents for it to help Tiana." Lana said.
"And I will seek out my contacts." Dilys said. "My troupe is used to shems of all types and kinds and some are masters of dealing with them, invited to private showings and parties. And not all of my people perform our indoor services." The way she referred to prostitution almost made Zanrye smile. "I will not cause a stir in this of course."
"I trust you to be discreet." Zanrye said. "Not that the troupe leader doesn't already know it was you who got the Inquisition's blessing."
The small council sessions finally ended and Zanrye left the ever-growing village to venture once more into the thicket of woods over to the cabin where his later meeting would be held. He dismounted, nodded to the elven guards, and walked into the house with no hesitation. Each visit, he had become more and more lax until he could now walk into the Gaspard's cabin and greet the man with no weariness nor wariness.
"Your Worship." Gaspard responded in kind, sitting at the table with broth in front of him. He had been exercising once more and sweat was on his forehead. When is he not, Zanrye thought.
"Duke." Zanrye sat at the table before him. Gaspard made to stand but Zanrye waved him off. "I just came from a meal actually."
"As good as savory stew cooked with roasted carrots, shallots, and beets?" Gaspard asked.
"Beef and bread, I'm afraid." Zanrye said. Gaspard shook his head at the poor meal. "I actually didn't come for pleasantries."
"Or training I take it." Gaspard said. "You know I start my regiment earlier."
"I know." Zanrye said. "I actually came to talk about the movement of your person and…your troops." At his statement, the Duke snorted derisively and balked at him.
"My troops? Inquisitor, surely you've noticed by now that I have no troops. I have been branded a traitor and left with nothing but what your Inquisition has given me."
"Yes and no." Zanrye said. "You've been left with a banishment from Celene's kingdom and the Orlesian army, branded a conspirator bad at The Game. And yes, you are now without an army that I don't give you. But I've come to tell you that I did exactly that: found you an army. And it's not necessarily one from the Inquisition's stock but one that has agreed to work beneath you to defeat Corypheus."
"And what is the stock of this army?" Gaspard asked.
"They are…more common and less disciplined than you may be used to dealing with." Zanrye said hesitantly. "A band of refugees, some couple hundred people who lost their homes in the civil war between you and Celene. They're led by a Nobleman who established himself in the Dales but came to Court recently after my persuading."
"Oh Lemarque." Gaspard said. "Yes, the one I've been hearing poems about the past four weeks. Some new folk hero come along to woo the court and make them feel even more pompous while they balk at the poor, unfortunate soul."
"And a good leader." Zanrye stressed.
"Yes, yes." Gaspard said, sitting back and appraising Zanrye with those blue eyes of his. "So you wish for me to lead this group I have never met or associated with instead of their chosen leader?"
"I want you to work with their leader." Zanrye corrected him. "I want you to travel to the Dales tonight and do all the pleasantries you have to and then I want to see you on the field when my scouts call in my soldiers and we take whatever it is Corypheus is looking for in the Wilds."
The Duke was slow to respond to him. He eyed Zanrye for a time and then sat back, rocking his chair onto two legs as he did. He had all the grace of a chevalier but all the haughtiness of one too if one could look past the cool, honor-code exterior.
"What is your game now, Inquisitor?" He asked him. "You are not much better at playing than I. I go to war for you, I die in the woods?"
"You think I'd string you along this far just to have you die in the woods?" Zanrye scoffed.
"My execution will be public." Gaspard said. "Those were your words, or do you not remember just some time ago? This will be before these refugees, the Orlesian army, the Inquisition… public would be an understatement."
"You're not useful to me dead," Zanrye replied. "Not even publicly killed by my enemies. That isn't an execution—that would look like an accident."
"A symbol in itself. I am not a fool."
"Let me put your mind at ease." Zanrye said to him, turning to reach into his pack. He pulled out a letter and handed it over to the Duke. "That is the letter of acceptance from Lemarque referring to your position as a general over his army that he will bring to the woods."
"Fairbanks?" Gaspard read the end of the letter. Zanrye had forgotten the man had signed outside of his new noble title.
"That's what he goes by." Zanrye explained. "More refugee than noble."
"So his story tells." Gaspard read it over and then looked up at him. "So you are putting me into the custody of this noble who has been shunned and disgraced by Orlais, welcomed back as a pitiful hero to rise no higher than a Lord…." Zanrye could not stop himself from sighing and nearly rolled his eyes. He stood after that and looked back at the man.
"Come on." He said. Gaspard did not instantly move. "If you don't trust me now, I might as well kill you, Duke. We have to trust each other more than this if we're going to be partners. Haven't I done everything I was said I was going to?" He held up his fingers in turn. "Florianne lives, you have free communications, weapons, and news from the outside world, and I told you I have plans in motion to place you on Orlais' throne, which I haven't gone against." That seemed to do the trick because Gaspard stood and followed Zanrye out the door. The guards parted for them and Zanrye stepped over to where the mages were coming back to him. He had told them this time was coming.
"Now is the time." He told them. "The Duke will leave us."
"Your Worship." They all mumbled. Each mage handed him stones, three of which were covered in dirt whilst the two guards left to fetch Zanrye's horse and the one they had stationed here for themselves and Gaspard should he wish to go riding. Zanrye took the five stones and displayed them before Gaspard.
"These were the runes helping to keep the barriers that disabled you from escaping." Zanrye told him. "This one kept the outside world from seeing you." He dropped one with dirt covering it. "This one kept you from being able to see past a randomized configuration of trees." He dropped that one as well. "This one was to alert the mages and guards of your presence at all times…." The final dirty stone was dropped and now only the two clean ones remained. "This one was to allow my companions to trace you should you escape all of these other limitations…and this one was to allow me to do the same." He placed hands on his hips. "They have all been depowered and rendered useless, dug out from where they laid and taken from myself and my companion." His eyes were clear. "You are free to leave here now, Gaspard de Chalons. And my guards will see you to the Dales where Lemarque awaits you and then they will return to me."
The display made Gaspard speechless for a moment. Zanrye could nearly see the battle in his eyes between belief and disbelief, fear and confidence. After having everything ripped away in a matter of seconds by someone he had underestimated before…. Zanrye inhaled deeply again at this silence.
"I have never betrayed you, Duke." He said. "I sided against you, not betrayed you. Now I side with you—as majority of my council originally wanted." The guards returned with the horses. "I can show you where the stones were buried if that will also help to convince you." Gaspard said nothing. "I'm letting you go free and I need to be able to trust that you'll do what I ask when you get to Fairbanks and that I can count on seeing you at the Wilds when I break ground and head there. I need to trust that you'll do what you do best and leave the rest to me; then make good on your promises after I make good on mine."
He was earnest and sincere. This was the hardest part of their plan, the part they couldn't get around. He was going to have the trust the Duke not to run away from Fairbanks. Zanrye would no longer have eyes or ears on him, no longer be able to keep watch. There was Fairbanks' soldiers but soldiers could be outsmarted….
"She will be there." Gaspard finally spoke. "Celene. She may send a champion but will not doubt accompany you on the first march towards the Wilds at least."
"So she will." Zanrye answered. "And then she'll return home."
"When she sees me—"
"She knows you're still under the protection of the Inquisition." Zanrye said. Gaspard paused again and then chuckled drily.
"You are not at all what I expected Inquisitor Lavellan." Gaspard said. "Even till the end." He reached out a hand that Zanrye took in his own. "We may win this game…together."
"And hopefully it'll be the first and last game we have to play." Zanrye shook.
"Your first." Gaspard reminded him. "But both our last."
PRESENT
SHRINE OF DUMAT
The group approached the temple with caution. It had to be a small group; anything particularly large would scare Samson off. Zanrye felt a bit uncomfortable as they approached the eerily silent dwellings but said nothing. He trusted Cullen's judgment—the man wanted revenge and would have it. They would come here and do what needed to be done. Yet no faith could still Zanrye's heart as the shrine made his mark buzz. He was no mage but he could feel power here. Whatever Old God used to have his due in this sanctum was more powerful than any elf or human with a sword or staff.
"Alright." Cullen said, whispering here. He dismounted from the horse that brought him. Behind them, Vivienne, Solas, and Cassandra followed suit. Cole had also come along but was far ahead of them, teleporting to where he could "feel the hurt." It covered a lot of ground but set them down a man.
"Are you sure this is his base of operations?" Zanrye asked. Cullen had informed him that he'd closed in on Samson, tracking him here. Seeing the cold, unwelcoming landscape before them made Zanrye think otherwise. It's too quiet….
"Sure of it—he and Maddox will be here." Cullen pressed stubbornly, voice snapping. He cleared his throat as an apology but Zanrye was not bothered. He knew Cullen would be going through withdraws since his decision to stop taking lyrium. It was a hard thing—a brave one. But after a few months, no more of that, Zanrye reasoned, He'd better re-shape-up by then.
"He might have spotted us." Cassandra volunteered. "He may have fled—what was that?"
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, the abomination was on them. A red Templar—a horror. Zanrye felt Solas's shield surround him and drew his sword, not even thinking before he charged forward, Cassandra at his side. The claws raked at him and he sidestepped, his agility increased by the dragon blood. He was warmer but not too hot. He was learning how to control it better now.
The horror suffered a blow by Cassandra's blade, followed by another from Cullen which sunk deep into it and was dislodged when Cullen's shield sent the beast flying back. The team moved forward, the battle pushing them toward the venatori guards and more abominations that sought to stop them from entering. Zanrye cupped his greatsword like a bat and threw his full weight into the swing, arching the steel across the torso of the first guard and clipping the arm of the abomination beside her.
The entrance was theirs in a few minutes but Vivienne stopped them before they could go forward, slapping salve onto the cut Cassandra had earned from her position at the front.
"He knew." She said simply. Zanrye did not have to question who the 'he' was.
"And that means he might have run, like Cass said." Zanrye said after a pause. Cullen's jaw worked, his expression unreadable.
"It was the mercenaries." He decided. "We attacked too many of them. It tipped him off…." The sentence was not directly accusing but Zanrye knew that that was his part in this,
"I was as discreet as I could be when tasked with robbing random mercenary bands, Cullen." He defended himself. Cullen did not answer, instead walking to the door. Zanrye narrowed his eyes but said nothing. A roar from inside set him to purpose. Cullen had his shield up and was staring down a giant, red, glistening behemoth. The red lyrium it wore as skin was so bright that it almost hurt to look at. It's huge fist was reeled back, going to bring the full force down onto the Commander. Zanrye skifted forward; Cullen rolled away, quite deftly in such thick armor, and slashed at the thing's leg. Red lyrium shards came away from it but that did not stop its assault.
"Maker," he heard Cassandra mutter in exhaustion as she took up dancing with he and Cullen. The three of them darted around the monster, the shields from Solas and Vivienne shimmering around them as they launched their spells at the beast, doing what damage they could. Zanrye dove forward at the monster and cleaved as big a piece as he could when he felt the air near his ear become tight and shrill. He stumbled further away.
"Archers!" He alerted his group. Of course there were guards in here as well.
"I'll take care of them!" Solas began. There was a pause, filled with nothing but swords clanging against rock and thunderous crashes as the beast flailed about. Solas's voice came again, "Cole has it!"
Zanrye looked up to see the throats of all five guards gush forward as they began to bleed out. Cole materialized farther, near the horrors, jumping down to give them attention. Cassandra shouldered Zanrye backward, unsteadying him and saving him from a club to the head by the behemoth. He righted himself and drew upon the surging fire in his veins to swing his sword upward and cleave off a boulder of rock from the monster's leg and then smash his leg into the remaining portion. The behemoth rocked unsteadily, still reaching out with its limbs, and sagged on one side, allowing Cullen to find purchase and drive his sword deep into its weak point near the front and pull. He created a cavern in the monster that Cassandra filled with her own sword and Zanrye filled his. The create made no more sound after that.
Zanrye put his weapon in its hilt, panting, before he finally took in the room around him. The big, marble structure gave off slight blueish, redish light and now had the corpses of man and abomination alike in the wake of Cole as he made his way through. Zanrye was impressed but could not take his eyes off of the fire and smoke that marred the austerity and beauty of the place.
"He burned everything." He said in disbelief.
"Asked his troops to sack his holdings for him since he didn't have time to do it himself." Cullen said darkly. His arms were crossed as he descended the first set of stairs. Zanrye watched him walk, still flabbergasted.
"It is tragic." Solas said after a time. "For the history of this place…the meanings it held—the power. For it to be destroyed, nothing but that which can help him cause destruction being saved."
"Don't be so surprised." Vivienne shook her head. "He is a coward and a thief."
"Vivienne." Cassandra said sternly, "No." When Vivienne's hand went to her hip, the posture that was the harbinger for her brutal redresses, Zanrye also touched her arm.
"The Commander." He mumbled to her. Vivienne looked to where Cullen was walking now a distance ahead of them. She seemed to be debating and then shrugged.
"I understand." She said. "There is a time for honesty…and another for subtlety."
The rest of the group followed behind Cullen, walking past the arrays of blood and guts, kicking away stray chunks of stone. The fire pits were everywhere, with little or nothing that could be seen that was not a part of the kindling. Zanrye had to cover his mouth to avoid the intense smoking that now filled the area, unable to get out through the far front door.
"Inquisitor." Vivienne said softly, catching the attention of all. On the floor, next to a giant red lyrium harvest and a desk, sat a man with brown hair and mage robes, as well as a sun on his forehead. A tranquil.
"It's Maddox." Cullen confirmed. His brow furrowed as he began to take in the state of the man, the way he was slumped there, the faint trickle of blood on his lips. "Something's wrong. I'll send for the healers."
"That would be a waste, Captain Cullen." Maddox said, his voice so calm that Zanrye shivered and looked away as he stood over where Cullen kneeled. "I drank my entire bightcap essence. It won't be long now." Zanrye's eyes widened, just as Cullen's did.
"Why?" Cassandra demanded.
"We just wanted to ask you questions Maddox." Zanrye said, truthfully.
"That is what I could not allow." Maddox explained, his eyes continuing to lose their focus as he laid there, dying. "I destroyed the camp with fire." He did not say this proudly, nor did he speak with remorse. "We all agreed it was best. Our deaths ensured Samson had time to escape."
"You threw your lives away for Samson?" Cullen was breathless, face scrunched as though he wanted to both cry and hit Maddox square in the face. "Why!?"
"Samson saved me even before he needed me." Maddox said sleepily. He was breathing deeper now. "Even before he needed me." Whether the blightcap took him right then or if he decided not to answer any longer, Zanrye stood by and watched as the tranquil leaned his head to the side and go silent, whispering the words, "I…wanted to help."
Zanrye couldn't find anything to say as the man died right in front of them. He did not know what he expected for this mission weeks in the planning but certainly not…not this.
"Are you…going to make it? Emotionally?" Zanrye asked Cullen, unsure how to better phrase the question. "I mean, I know you aren't alright…." The blonde man's jaw was tight and his throat bobbed ceaselessly as he gnawed on all he had been told.
"We should search the camp." Is what he finally decided on. "In case he missed something."
He didn't say any more and it was a quiet search, filled only by Cullen's muttering and commentary on the notes and failed projects they encountered. They came across Maddox's work station and picked up what looked like a metallic, thin, part hammer part arrow.
"Maybe Dagna can make sense of these as well." Cullen said. "Maybe of some use to us."
"I'm sure she will. She's been doing it." Zanrye said. Cullen nodded with a small smile and led them out the way they came.
PRESENT
SKYHOLD
The greeting he received when Zanrye reached Skyhold the following morning was a morbid one, not welcoming. There was a tangible feeling of worry in the air, as reports came back in to and fro.
"Scouts have made contact, ser."
"Corypheus has indeed been searching the woods, throwing my agents off the trail, making us think he was running."
"Dagna has the rune. She's been working tirelessly with what Maddox left behind."
"Tiana sends her regards."
The notes bombarded him with information, information that was critical to what came next. Zanrye hadn't realized that he'd been avoiding thinking about it, shying away from the thought that he might in fact…. This could be the end, he thought. This could be it. He passed off boards of reports and notes back to the scouts that handed them to him. He convened with Cassandra, hoping that she would relay the information to Cullen—to whom he didn't wish to speak until it was time to.
Zanrye looked out the window of the grand hall, through the patterned Andrastian glass that was so familiar to him now. The nobles still in his halls went by, nodding to him and smiling. They did not have to worry about the danger. It was no longer their burden to bear but Zanrye's, the Herald of Andraste—the herald of the Divine and her spirit. The Herald of Corypheus.
He needed to be ready, to make sure everything could be alright. He went to his quarters and adorned his loose cloth pants and sleeveless flaxen shirt; he grabbed a hooded cloak right before his exit. Ducking through the still-ruined portion of the trail to his room, Zanrye crept down to the gardens and shifted through the weeds, avoiding the prayers and the hugs as the word began to spread through the ranks of their imminent march. He could not have the garden to himself. There were no hours for it now, and the other members needed it more than he did. The back of Skyhold could not be penetrated and Zanrye straightened and walked by the front, nodding at the guards who did indeed recognize him. They must have wondered what he was going but he did not tell them.
Once across the bridge, Zanrye finally sighed and let the frown come to his face.
"Battalion from home," he muttered as he stalked through the grassy mountains that sloped down into woodsy area. "Fairbanks and his people, more from Biloro, Orlais' army." He stopped at a small parting in the forests. "Inquisition."
He inhaled deeply and walked to clearing, standing still and centering himself. He slowly stretched out his arms and his legs, throwing off the cloak. He breathed steady and deep, thought going through his mind. Wycome…Fairbanks…Biloro…Orlais…Inquisition. The list of all that would assault these wilds—the people who would risk their lives to end this breach and its threat for the last time.
He dropped to his palms, hands firm in the ground. He sunk down, feeling his muscles bend with the action but not resist it. He rose and repeated, the pushup number stacking. 2…20…40.
When had he cared about death this much? He remembered the night he, Po, and Shia when they dropped on those unsuspecting humans, snatching their goods and killing them, making their elven attendants flee. What happened to those elves? Had they joined the Dalish? Fallen further into poverty? He remembered the time that he risked his life to save a spirit for Solas—a spirit! He'd let Solas kill the mages, who'd imprisoned it, unwitting and seeking only protection. He'd gone willingly to the Winter Palace, willingly to Crestwood and the Approach and the Hinterlands. But this time was different. Why was it different?
Zanrye sunk down and popped up when his arms straightened, his knee helping to push him to his feet. He rolled his arms, stretching them, seeing how the taught muscle responded positively to the abuse. He could feel the fire in his veins, the lust there as well.
He reached back, eyeing a nearby tree, skin vibrating. He was bare-fisted. He balled a fist, drew it back, breaking into a run, and swung his arm at the tree, watching as bark splintered off of it, the size of his hand and more as the fire he felt in his body manifested around his fist. It was like Solas's shield but red, like a claw raking at whatever he was punching. He drew back, examining the hand. The flesh was sore but not broken, even though the tree's own flesh was sadly broken.
My family, my friends, my allies, my empire…my Inquisition. Zanrye let the thoughts go through his head as he drew back and clawed again, the blood of the dragon aiding him again and cleaving nearly all the way through the thick trunk.
They would be facing more than just some ghouls and monsters. They would be facing him—Corypheus. Zanrye felt his gut twist, growling as he assaulted another tree. Despite what people believed about Haven and his escape and the miracle savior he was, Zanrye knew the truth. Corypheus was a demon, a magister, probably a faux God in some way. He had power that was unimaginable—power that his servants like Alexius and Erimond and demon Lucius were pale comparisons of. And whatever he sought in the woods—the eluvian that would put him a breath away from the Heavens—would create a mess that Zanrye didn't think they could fix.
"You are difficult to track down." Solas said. The man stood near the side of an unmolested tree. He had a cloak of his own, staff lazily draped to the side as he smiled at Zanrye. Zanrye scoffed and rose from his stance, turning.
"I didn't want to be found." Zanrye said.
"You preferred the company of the trees to that of your Inquisition." Solas observed. "War is upon us soon."
"War and so much else, Solas." Zanrye corrected, face glum. He reached to his side and realized he'd forgotten to bring a water flask. Sighing, he looked to the taller man. "Do you have?"
"I'm afraid not." Solas said lightly. "I did not think to find you…exercising."
"Where'd you think to find me?"
"Strolling, pondering, with the serious, boyish expression you always carry when you are unsure." Solas chuckled, walking over to him. Zanrye sighed, looking out into the sky.
"I'm not unsure just…." Zanrye didn't want to utter the word but had to. "Afraid." He did not like to admit it. "Afraid even though I've come this far."
"Fear is natural." Solas reasoned. "Things in our nature are not discarded, lethalin."
"But it won't help me." Zanrye said back. "It won't get anything done just…."
"Your fears are well formed." Solas said, pacing languidly as he did. "You can speak of them if you wish. Your fear Corypheus—he is a force to be reckoned with, there is no doubt. You fear things going wrong—"
"I'm afraid because I don't know." Zanrye cut him off, not disagreeing with his earlier statements as he did. "I'm afraid because…" he could feel the anger welling in him alongside the salty sorrow in his throat. "This could be it, Solas." Zanrye shook his head, eyeing his friend. "If he succeeds, it could mean…it could mean the end of the world. Really, the end of the world." He sighed, shaking his head and beginning a pace of his own. "It could be the end of everything I've built. Everything I've cared about." He sighed. "I don't want to die—never have. But I've never been…afraid to die. Not until now…not until Corypheus." He turned to look at Solas dead in those blue eyes. "That probably makes no sense…."
"On the contrary." Solas said. He planted his staff in the ground, resting two hands on it as he looked at the darker man. When Zanrye snorted, he gave a smirk. "I've been with you both here and in the fade, lethalin. I've seen you as you tore down our enemies, with absolute certainty. But I've also seen you in your dreams, and at your worst." His smile fell and now he had a look of pondering. "I was with you when you were lost in the snow." He stood up straighter. "I was with you in the fade…at Haven." He paused. "You have always been afraid, lethalin. Maybe not of death but…your life has been filled with fear from the day you were born."
From the day I lost my real father, Zanrye thought.
"I know you haven't told me all." Solas said. "But to me it seems that Corypheus may be your fears all manifested in one." He shrugged. "He is formidable in his own respects but for you, he may seem like all that you must oppose. It is not unwise to be unsure, Zanrye."
Zanrye took in the counsel of his friend, hearing the words ring true. He looked out onto the mountains and visualized Corypheus coming up them with his enormous dragon on his heels. It made him shiver. The magister, the human with magic who'd breached the heavens and forced his accident onto Zanrye, thus enslaving him with this blasted mark. He had taken Zanrye's arm and with it his life. He was bound to him—a shem, from Tevinter, who wanted little more than to destroy him. Corypheus was powerful, more powerful than anything Zanrye had ever faced. It'd taken an avalanche to simply flee from him; and Zanrye had no more snow, nor power near enough to face against him. He wasn't sure he could fight him; and he was 100% sure he would never be able to flee from him.
"We've only faced his minions," Zanrye said finally. "Not him, each time. Only at Haven did I face Corypheus and that was…a disaster." He frowned.
"We are stronger now." Solas said simply. He gestured to the tree. "A fact nature knows personally." That made Zanrye smile and he wrapped an arm around the taller man.
"I wish you could tell me we'll live Solas." He said. "You're the wisest of us—the smartest of us." He chuckled. "It's like you're living out this age after you've lived out all the others too." He sighed. "I just wish…. I don't always think the best…or act the best, or do the best when I'm this afraid." Solas did not answer immediately and Zanrye shook them out of their talk. He did not want to dwell. He came here to get away from that.
"What did you come here for, friend?" He asked. "Not just to find me for a game of cards."
"I have found the amulet and it has failed." Solas said, his own expression becoming sad.
"I can't take him with us then." Zanrye said, equally sad. "I was hoping, with Cole on our side, we'd have a good sneaker of our own."
"That is not all." Solas said. "He may yet be able to come with us. He…" Solas considered. "There is something hindering the amulet's power—something deep seeded that had effected Cole's very being. He knows where to find this disturbance. But he wants all of us."
"To what?"
"To come with him."
Zanrye frowned.
"To come with him?" He asked.
"This is a very complex, painful process for Cole—something that has gripped him, binded him in a way." Solas explained, earnestly. "He needs for all who were involved to come with him so that he can face this demon from his past." Zanrye groaned.
"This is the type of thing I wanted to get away from." He told Solas.
"You have the mark." He reminded him. "You have the responsibilities. You can't run away from them. If you wish for Cole to be alright—to come with us to this assault—I will need you to attend." Zanrye looked back into the expanse, felt his muscles begin to register their soreness as he broke them apart and reconstructed them through action.
"Alright." He said. "But it can't take long, Solas—"
"It will not." Solas said. "Cole shows the way now. A trip to Redcliffe, then a trip back. It should take us no more than a day."
"Fine. Let's go."
PRESENT
REDCLIFFE
They reached the village by the afternoon, just as the sun was beginning its slow descent. There was still a lot of activity and very few people noticed Zanrye or his cohorts, no matter how famous he and Varric were.
"So who exactly are we looking for?" Zanrye asked as he smiled at the peddlers selling a number of goods. Solas shrugged.
"We are following Cole's feelings." He said. At Zanrye's look, he smiled small. "We can trust him, lethalin. Cole knows where the breach is, the pain. He can show us."
And Cole did. In a few minutes, the group ascended a flight of stairs next to the wolf statue when he heard Cole whisper "you" with a voice full of accusation.
Before he could discern, Cole was a puff of smoke and forcing the man down onto his knees, fist drawn back. Zanrye was quick to move, eyes wide as he saw calm Cole's eyes filled with rage, his knuckles tight and shaking as spit flew from his lips at this man, who cowered beneath the force.
"Cole!" Zanrye ran after him, with Solas grabbing his wrist and pulling him back.
"Wait." He hissed into Zanrye's ear.
"We can't just—just."
"You forgot!" Cole accused the poor man, with people all around looking away and scurrying to a place that was less loud. A few gave inquisitive stares that Varric waved away, indicating that they would take care of it.
"You locked me in the dungeon in the spire!" Cole continued. "And I died in the dark!"
"Cole." Solas's voice rung with authority but it was not urgent. "Stop."
The pressure of Cole's grasp lessened and the man gave a cry, eyeing the approaching group and Cole with the eyes of someone who just saw an abomination. And then he took off running., Zanrye came beside Cole as Varric stepped in front of him.
"Just take it easy kid." He tried to say.
"He killed me!" Cole shouted like a madman. "He killed me! That's why it doesn't work; he killed me and I have to kill him back!"
"Kill? Cole!" Zanrye grabbed the man's shoulder. "If he killed you, you would be dead."
"Exactly." Solas chimed in. "This man could not have killed you. You are a spirit. You have not even possessed a body."
"A broken body, bloody, mangled," Cole began to talk gibberish, Zanrye wildly trying to keep up. "They threw him in the dungeon in the Spire at Val Royeaux. They forgot about him. He starved to death." His eyes were filled with anxiety, body trembling like a leaf. "I came through to help…I couldn't. So I became him." He whimpered. "Cole…."
"Holy Mythal." Zanrye turned away, mouth covered.
"Cole was an apostate." Varric surmised. "So that man must have been a Templar. Buying lyrium."
"I need to kill him." Cole was walking away.
"Solas, stop him." Zanrye hissed urgently.
"I need to." Cole said. His eyes were somewhere else, far away, as he strode towards the direction where the man was running. He walked slow but with murderous purpose.
"Solas." Zanrye looked to him. "What do we do?"
"We cannot let Cole kill him." Solas reasoned.
"Obviously." Zanrye made a disgusted noise. Sometimes, Solas could be so fade-headed….
"No one was going to suggest that, Chuckles." Varric added.
"Cole's a spirit." Solas continued as though he hadn't heard them. "The murder of the real Cole had wounded him. He's perverted from his purpose. He must regain that part of himself. He must forgive."
"Forgive?" Varric asked. "Come on, you can't just forgive someone killing you."
"You don't." Solas spat. "But a spirit can."
"We don't, Solas." Zanrye corrected him quietly. "W-we. All mortals." Solas leveled a stare that made Zanrye shut up.
"He's just angry." Varric said. "He needs to work through it."
"A spirit does not work through emotions. It embodies them." Solas' reply came through hard and exact like a book.
"But he isn't a spirit." Varric said. "He made himself human and humans change—hurt and heal."
"You would alter the essence of what he is." Solas said, accusation in his words.
"He did that to himself when he left the fade. I'm just helping him survive it." Varric said.
"So is Cole or isn't Cole a spirit?" Zanrye demanded, head beginning to hurt.
"The real Cole was an apostate it seems." Solas said. "Captured and killed by Templars. The young man's pain caught the attention of a spirit—compassion."
"That's not one you hear everyday." Zanrye said.
"An uncommon one to be sure." Solas nodded. "But real all the same. And all too fragile when its efforts are in vain." He sighed. "I believe I can help." Varric crossed his arms.
"By all means, Solas." Zanrye said. "You know more about this than us."
"Really?" Varric demanded.
"What Varric?" Zanrye asked. "Solas lives in this type of thing. I think it'd be safe to trust his opinion—or Vivienne's—or Dorian's—or someone who actually has experience with this."
"So mages." Varric muttered.
"Mages who study spirits." Zanrye corrected. Solas was already walking towards Cole, taking him away, far along the path as Varric shook his head, leaving Zanrye alone. He knew Varric would get over it but the question was still remaining. Could Cole even become more spirit? Or even human? Spirits weren't human. They couldn't become human, even if Cole had been able to manifest some form of flesh to compliment his existence on this plain. It was too much fade-talk for Zanrye to process and he instead left his thought to wander in the future. Everything was too still to denote the battle that was just over the horizon. Nothing seemed different but him. Corypheus was sneaky and quiet and used proxies but now…now it was the two of them. Now it was him versus Corypheus—all he had built versus all Corypheus had built. Only one would survive it. They were two beings living in the same territory, with no room for that which the other was producing.
The footsteps signaled their approach. Zanrye turned to see Solas and held his breath but soon enough Cole was in his vision as well, with a glowing necklace on. It worked…they'd done it.
"Is everything alright?" Zanrye asked.
"You alright kid?" Varric asked.
"Yes." Cole responded but his voice was different. "He's free. We're both free." He says nothing more and begins his journey back home, not even waiting for them to follow. Zanrye turned to Solas.
"He is as he was." Solas assured him. "Better. More himself."
"He changed." Zanrye noted.
"Changed from what we saw. But not from his true purpose." Solas said. "The amulet is working. Cole will be safe to accompany us."
"Did you hear what he said?" Varric asked. "What he sounds like?"
"Like a spirit." Solas said stiffly. "The man's memory is gone. He has forgotten and his pain no longer pulls on him. Cole is truly free."
Zanrye said nothing, thinking about all that that meant…what, indeed, Cole sounded like.
"He could have been a person." Varric shook his head.
"Possibly." Solas said. "But would he have been happier that way, child of the stone?"
Varric did not say more and neither did Zanrye but the questioned remained. More questions with no answers. Zanrye finally turned away and patted Solas's back, urging him back home. Varric, after a wistful look, followed.