Chapter 9

There are situations, hypothetical ones, where you think you know what you'd do—fight or flight. But honestly, you don't know until that situation crops up. And sometimes the same situation can crop up over and over and you still never know what you'd do until time calls for action. Sometimes it's because you're not predictable or maybe it's because you've grown and learned. I like to think it's the later for me.

Before, during a fight, all I wanted to do was run, hide, let someone else take care of whatever scary thing was happening. But I've learned that someone else can't always handle it. Or, as impossible as it once seemed, I'm the one who decides how the battle goes if I make the right—or wrong—move. And I've learned that running just isn't an option anymore. Not when I have been trained in bow and sword to take care of myself, not when other's lives are on the line because of me.

I decided that I'm going to stand and fight.

Everyone was enjoying themselves. We just closed the Breach! I can't say if others agreed, but the closing had been almost . . . beautiful. Solas stated that there may be more rifts to close, but that the most dangerous problem was resolved.

Iron Bull, Dorian, and the Chargers were laughing it up, cracking open huge kegs of ale and drinking as much as they pleased. And they had earned it. Sera was off somewhere, probably stealing pants or something mischievous while others weren't paying attention. Vivienne was off chatting with the mages. I think Blackwall was in the tavern, where a more controlled chaos ensued. Solas sat beside me, a small smile curving his lips.

I laughed as one of the Chargers, trying to regal us with a harrowing tale of victory, tripped over himself and fell.

"It's good to see you smile." I glanced down and saw Varric, holding his own tankard and enjoying the Charger's antics. My smile turned shy—when was the last time I had truly laughed? But everything was okay now. Things were starting to fall into place and maybe we could restore peace to the land and then I could rest and—oh. Oh. I was planning for the future. Here. In Thedas. When had I started considering this place as my home? When had that happened? I guess my expression changed because Varric nudged me. "What happened? I thought we were having a good time?"

"Sorry. It's nothing. And I am having a good time." I smiled at him.

"Bah! I see no ale in your hand. Here! Drink up!" he pushed his tankard in my hands and I didn't know what to do. In my world I wasn't old enough to drink and those good parents of mine had taught me drinking was bad. I felt like if I did drink it, I would be betraying my parents. But another, smaller part wanted to see what the hype was all about. "Come on then. It won't bite you."

I chuckled and decided to go for it. I took a swig and immediately spat it out. "You drink this stuff?" I gasped, desperate to get the taste out of my mouth.

Varric just laughed and took the tankard back, tossing it back and drinking all of it in one go. Holy crap that was impressive and disgusting.

I laughed and turned to look back at the Chargers . . . when something caught my eye. Hesitantly, I pointed in the distance. "What is that?"

Varric burped and looked at what I was pointing at. His face was one of consternation. "Looks like . . . torches?"

Curious, I went to get a better look. The pinpoints of light were far, but still close enough to worry. I pushed through the throng of partiers at the steps and finally made my way to the gate. What were they? They almost had a red tinge. Someone rounded the corner in a hurry, barreling into me and nearly knocking me windless.

"Herald! I must . . . speak to the Commander!"

Something was making my hands wet. Must be the snow, must be—I looked at my hands and the dark liquid coating my hands was definitely not snow. I quickly helped the scout to his feet. "What's happening? What's going on?"

"Invaders!" The scout gasped. "Venatori and . . . someone . . . something else."

I had a hard time getting through the crowds but if they were close, they noticed something wasn't right and immediately settled down. A somber air of uncertainty was taking over the camp. We hobbled to the top of the stairs to search out the Commander—who wasn't hard to find, considering he never took off his impressive armor that marked him as Commander.

"Commander!" The scout wheezed. It was like all the life had drained from him as he slumped in my arms.

"Scout Rory!" I was momentarily amazed that Commander Cullen knew the name of one of many scouts in his army.

"They're coming. Thousands of them. Venatori . . . and more. They're coming!" Rory clutched desperately at the Commander.

And then there were shouts and the sound of metal scraping against metal coming from the front gate. "Men! To arms!"

What was happening? What was going on? These were the only two thoughts I had racing through my head as I raced with everyone else to get to the front gate. Venatori were pouring through, the Chargers and a handful of the Commander's men were fighting them off the best they could, but there were so many and most of ours were drunk. The Commander flew into the fray, pulling people up that he had just saved. He was a sight to see in combat.

"Close the gates!" I shouted. "Commander, push them back!"

With all the courage I had, I stepped into the fight, pushing and defending our ground from these interlopers. I cried out when I felt a blade catch my arm but it only made me angrier. Screaming, I lunged forward and impaled the man on my sword. Using my shield, I slapped him off my sword and kept pushing with everyone else until the Venatori were now out and we could close the gates.

"Herald! Are you okay?" The Commander asked.

I waved him off. "I'm fine. It's just a scratch. What's the casualties?"

"Four dead. A handful with life threatening injuries."

I nodded, a bit disheartened that four soldiers now lay dead. And this made my heart sink, what if they hadn't been soldiers?

A pounding at the gates brought me up short. "Let me in! I can't come in unless you open!"

Oh God—what if that was a civilian? "Open the gates!" I commanded.

"Are you mad?" The Commander barked. "We don't know who that is!"

"It could be one of the people of Haven. It's our duty to protect them. And if not, we'll take care of them like we did before."

The Commander huffed but stood by as two soldiers opened the gate just enough to let someone slip through before they quickly closed it once more. Noises were starting to reach us, of chanting and shouts of, well, of war. The Commander and I rushed forward, sword drawn, to investigate the person who we let in.

I was taken aback by the young man before us. Lithe and bedraggled looking, he straightened himself. When he saw me, he gasped, almost like he knew me, but I hadn't seen him before in my life. Who was this boy?

"I'm Cole!" He blurted. "I came to warn you . . . to—to help you. People are coming to hurt you," He looked around and said sheepishly, "But you probably already know . . ."

"What is this? What's going on?" The Commander demanded.

"The Templars have come to kill you."

"Templars!" Cole startled and jerked back from the Commander. "Is this the Order's response to the talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?" The Commander was taken aback—apparently this wasn't the Order he remembered serving.

"The Red Templars went to the Elder One." Oh no. Oh no. I thought that was over and done with when we had stopped Alexius. Memories of the horrors of the castle, the red lyrium—like a sickness—and the shaking of the building as something roared washed over me. This wasn't good. Not at all. The boy, Cole, was giving me an odd look, one with sympathy and more.

"Know him? He knows you. You took his mages. Look—there!" Cole pointed in the distance to an outcrop. I could just barely make out two figures but one—I felt a shiver run down my spine. It was shaped all wrong. "He's very angry you took his mages."

"Commander! Give me a plan—anything!" I was starting to panic at the sight of the Elder One and I needed something—anything—to ground me again.

The Commander turned to me. "Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this assault, we must control the battle. We'll need to get out there and hit them with everything we have. There—we have catapults. Use them to decimate their forces."

"I can do that." I think. How hard could it be to run a catapult?

Drawing his sword, the Commander nodded. "You! Mages! You have sanction to attack them! That is Samson and he will not make it easy! Inquisition, with the Herald. For might, for all of us!" The roar that issued from his speech was almost deafening.

We could do this.

A dragon?! He had a mother fucking dragon!?

"Run! Run, run, run!" I shouted to my group, trying to get them away from the catapult in time. We were only a few steps away when the dragon let loose it's flame. With a loud bang, whatever was there ignited and exploded, sending all of us flying. I was knocked breathless, my head ringing from the noise.

Groaning, I sat up, clutching my head in agony. When I glanced over, I gasped and attempted to stand on wobbly legs. Something was coming through the fire and it was all jagged edges and sharp points. I picked up my sword but I wasn't prepared for the creature—not a man—that presented itself to me. He was tall, incredibly so with armor and red lyrium growing out of his body. I had to admit, he wasn't as terrifying to look at like the demons of the rift, but there was something powerfully intimidating about him that had me shaking. A mighty roar shook the air and I staggered as the dragon landed behind me, skidding to a halt. I was quite proud of myself that I didn't wet myself. But I also knew one assured thing—I was going to die. A sense of calm washed over me and though my heart was beating a mile a minute, I saw everything with clarity. The creature wouldn't harm me unless its master told it to. And so far, no command had been given.

"Enough!" a mangled voice vibrated from the creature's chest, a force propelling from his body that had me bracing to not fall over. "Pretender . . . you toy with forces beyond your kin. No more."

I gripped my sword tighter. "What the hell are you? Why are you doing this?" I demanded.

"Mortals beg for truths they cannot have. It is beyond what you are. Know me, know what you pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus." He pointed a crooked finger at me. "You. Will. Kneel."

"That means nothing to me. What do you want? You haven't even demanded anything of us!" the dragon next to me bristled, growling, agitated.

"I ask for nothing because it is not in your power to give. But that will not stop me." A flashing red orb appeared in his hand. That couldn't be good. "You have the Anchor. The process of removing it begins . . . now."

He outstretched is other hand, that same sickly red glow.

"Argh!" My hand, the Mark, began glowing and the pain was remarkable. "What are you doing?"

"It is your fault, Herald, you corrupted a ritual, years in the making, but instead of dying you stole its purpose." His red hand pulsed and with it another shot of pain went down my arm and to my chest, making me gasp. "I do not know how your survived, but what marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very Heavens."

Another pulse had me on my knees, my chest on fire. How did I make this stop? How was he doing this?

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall!" The creature, Corypheus as he called himself, took two powerful strides to reach me and the grabbed my marked hand and lifted me so we were eye to eye. The pain of the mark and now my strained arm was near unbearable. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the old gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more! I gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the throne of the Gods. It was empty."

He flung me and I smacked into the catapult, falling down where I barely caught myself.

"The Anchor is permanent. You have ruined it with you stumbling."

I grabbed the sword that lay next to my feet, next to a dead body—one of the Commander's soldiers—and struggled back to my feet. I was so dazed I missed whatever else the villain was saying. And, for a split second, I laughed. "He's actually monologuing," I wheezed to myself.

"What amuses you?" He snarled.

A flash of light had me looking behind him, I saw the light in the sky, the momentary twinkle before it faded out. They were safe. The people of Haven were safe. And then my eyes locked onto the mountain. The snow covered mountain that was so near. My eyes slid back to the monster. I was still riding that calm wave. Nothing could touch me, nothing scared me. Not even this creature and its inexplicable abilities. Not even the thought of death.

"You think I'm going to die here?" Then my eyes drift to the catapult and the rope that kept it anchored, kept it from launching a volley it was aimed at. The mountain. "You think I care about anything that you've said? Your arrogance blinds you. It's good to know. If I die here, it won't be alone!"

I flung the sword as hard as I could on the rope and the catapult launched its boulder at the mountainside. In a rush, an avalanche started. Holy crap, I didn't know they could move that fast! I ran and dove for the cavern I had spotted not too far away. Little did I know that it was a drop down rather than just an entrance into a mine. I hit the bottom hard and I knew nothing else.