AN: In which Velasco makes short work of that rift mess, and everyone is so very pleased with how professional she is.
Chapter Four - Una valle della morte (a valley of death)
They took the mountain path and there was no debate about it. Cassandra, after being won over and begrudgingly persuaded not to carry Velasco anymore, didn't mention the more direct approach, and so they set off.
Solas hovered behind her as they made their way up the mountain, shadowing her almost the entire time. There was something deeply guilty about the way he stepped, and more than once Velasco loudly had to exclaim that this was her choice, and had nothing to do with him. It only seemed to make things worse.
"In Antiva," she started, because nothing seemed to be working and every single one of the adults following behind her seemed deeply depressed about what they were doing now. "I was taught at a how to defend myself. The streets are dangerous to walk alone—I wouldn't have survived if not for my master."
That raised a few eyebrows.
She made a point not to mention a name or anything to do with her life as a crow. Divulging information that like was a death sentence—though if she thought about it, so was sealing the breach, but years of conditioning forced her to hold her tongue.
"Death is an everyday threat for those who cannot defend themselves. I learned fast; quicker than others my age, because I had to."
They stopped to take out a few demons lurking nearby, and Velasco got the final shot over Cassandra's shoulder, nailing a shade between the eyes before it withered away. The seeker straightened, uncomfortable with how easy it was for her to dispatch of demons so well. Velasco shrugged.
"Before today I've never had to kill a demon before-it's much more preferable. I don't have to think about it afterwards." She strung her bow back onto her shoulders and soldiered forward, further into the mines and the darkness. "I take it that none of you have had to threaten someone's life for their shoes before."
Solas lit a torch and passed it to Cassandra, his his mouth set in a grim line. "No."
"Don't pretend to know anything about my life, then." She turned swiftly stepped along the cold stone floor, her feet making little sound.
A second later, Varric held his arm up to stop her, spotting another horde of demons approaching. "Keep your head about you, at least, and stay close. What will we tell Leliana if you got ganked by demons before you even made it to the breach?"
"That she can have her bow back." She shot the dwarf a cheeky smile before she disappeared Into the shadows.
A second later, she had sunk the dagger Cassandra had given her into the side of a particularly bony wraith. The blade stuck into its rib cage, and she cursed, releasing the handle and giving the demon some space before it could whirl around and grab her.
Varric shot the wraith in the chest with a handful of arrows a moment later, and patted Bianca appreciatively as Velasco returned to his side. "You okay?"
"Figlio di puttana! I'm down a dagger," she said, frowning as she took her bow back out. Solas cast a barrier on them both and she nodded to him. "Back home, I'd have at least sixteen on my person at all times. This is so sad."
"Sixteen?" Solas said incredulously, while Varric let out a low whistle. "Why would you ever need that many?"
"Besides the obvious," she said, rolling her head to the side as Cassandra and her soldiers dispatched of the last demons. "There's no way I could ever be disarmed."
"That's one way to go about it," Varric said, nodding sagely.
"It is not," Solas argued, looking down at the two of them (both of which only came up to his waist). "That's absolutely way too many knives. What if you fell over?"
"I wouldn't have to worry about it anymore," Velasco said automatically, without a care in the world. She glanced at his staff and raised her eyebrows, several strands of raven hair sticking to her sweaty face. "Most of us can't magic up a weapon to use whenever we want. It's only fair, no?"
"No," he answered, looking down at her. "One should be more than enough."
"Maybe for some," she shrugged, carrying on through the mines after they had deemed the area safe enough to move forwards. "But it is good to be prepared."
Solas watched her with empty eyes as the girl sped up to join Cassandra. Varric shot the elf a tired look and shook his head. "Let's just keep going, shall we?"
He nodded.
They found the dead scouts at the end of the mine. Cassandra and her soldiers carried the bodies and laid them down where the snow could not cover them, both hands resting on their stomachs as their eyes closed in respect. Only two soldiers from the cell remained now, one having died before they made it to Leliana at the fort. Several others had filled in the space and joined them as they made their way up the mountain. Velasco stared on, looking past the bodies to the conclave, where she could see the point in which the breach touched down and flooded the earth with green.
Cassandra stood by her side and pursed her lips. She didn't ask if the girl wanted to turn back, it was already too late. "You are quite brave to choose to do this."
"I'm miles from home with no memory of why or how I came to do so," she said, jutting out her chin as the clouds rumbled ominously above them. "Being brave is not a part of it."
Cassandra pinches the bridge of her nose and shook her head. "The maker must be testing us, Verdammt."
Velasco raised an eyebrow at the slip of Nevarran. "What does that mean?"
"Don't worry about it," said the seeker, gesturing for their party to move on forwards. Further down they would meet the rest of the troops, as well as commander Cullen holding back the rest of the demons with his soldiers.
Velasco's footsteps were careful as they made their way towards the conclave. The mark on her hand buzzed with energy, and she held it down by her side and pressed it into her leg as it grew more active. Solas offered her another potion but she turned it down, opting only to chew on a leaf of elfroot to numb the pain.
"Best I stay aware," she shrugged, ignoring the healer's protests. "The pain keeps us sharp, no?"
Solas didn't look like he believed her, but they approached the centre of the conclave. The bodies littering the ground were twisted effigies of fire and bone, yellow mummified skin pulled over dedicated skulls, still smoking from a fire that burnt them from the inside out. Velasco held her mouth to her face to keep the smog out of her lungs, and watched as the rest of their party held similarly disgusted and broken expressions. This was truly out of some sort of nightmare.
"We found you, there." Cassandra pointed out, gesturing towards an equally indistinguishable pile of rubble to any other. It did, perhaps, have less corpses strewn about it. Velasco wasn't sure if she could feel lucky about that or not. She watched the adults watch her expectantly, not sure what they wanted her to do or say.
"It's… good that you did," she said awkwardly between her fingers, still cupped around her mouth. Varric passed her a rag out of his pocket and she nodded. It smelt of oil and leather as she pressed it to her face.
"This is lyrium…" Solas said as he inspected the red crystals jutting out from the ground, sickly and crackling slightly as they approached. They kept their distance as they crept further into the ruins, red lyrium growing larger as they neared the centre, where the breach touched down and poisoned the world.
The mark in her hand grew seemingly impatient, biting into her hand and sending jolt after jolt up her arm. Velasco hissed in pain, grinding her teeth together as it grew worse—sweat dropped down the side of her face, into her eyes, as voices cried out. Something in the fade seemed to shift, and the ghost of a voice cried out; all eyes turned to the sky.
"Someone, help me!"
"That's… her most holy?" Cassandra stared up into the breach for answers, but found none.
The next sound they heard was that of an arrow flying, glancing off what sounded like armor.
"Figlio di puttana, I missed!" That was most definitely Velasco's voice, though she couldn't remember saying those words herself. "What are you doing to the divine?"
There was a choking sound, Velasco frowned deeply when she heard her voice again. "Mortacci tua… Mangia…merde e morte!"
"What does that mean?" Asked Varric, glancing over to her.
"I insulted his ancestors and…" Cassandra and Solas looked at one another, and Velasco purses her lips. "Told him to eat shit and die."
Varric let out a loud guffaw, and several other soldiers shared a chuckle. Cassandra raised both eyebrows, seemingly judging Velasco into infinity. It was nothing new to Velasco, and she ignored her.
The final voice was deepest of all, commanding, if not chilling as it spoke. Something about it felt wrong and almost distorted. "We have an intruder. Slay the child."
Cassandra shook her head in awe, an indescribable expression on her face. "Justinia called out to you... What happened? Who attacked her? What do you know?"
"I don't know anything," Velasco said, shaking her head back and forth, as if it didn't make sense to her either. She couldn't remember any of it. "I don't miss—I never would have missed my shot if I was aiming at something."
The fervent fire in the seeker's eyes did not extinguish. She took a step towards her. "Surely you must know something—you were there. Did her most holy… is she..?"
Solas stepped in and kept Cassandra from finishing. "These are echoes of what happened here—the fade bleeds into this place. I wouldn't be surprised if it recorded the last moments before the explosion."
Velasco turned to see Leliana's archers circle around the remains of the conclave, perched in the perfect position to strike before demons would come spilling out of the breach. She listened to Solas instruct them about what to do, focusing especially when he turned to her and gestured to her hand, clenched into a fist as the mark flared against her fingernails.
"Are you prepare for use it on the breach?" He asked, as if she wasn't already.
Velasco fixed him with a stare and silently wished he wasn't treating her with kid-gloves. She slung Leliana's bow off her back and held it in her good hand, rolling her shoulders. She intended to prove him wrong.
"Yes."
The battle was tense. Opening the breach in and of itself proved a challenge—Velasco reached out with the mark, but struggled to make contact at first. Solas hovered by her side and gave her words of encouragement, seeing as he was the only one among them with any real idea of how to use magic, and she did her best. After a lengthy argument between them all on how she should properly use the mark without killing herself, Velasco finally figured out how to do it without fainting. All it took was for her to get right underneath the breach and to stand on Solas's shoulders.
"This is what it looks like to save the world!" she shouted, looking down at all the soldiers and archers trying to keep a straight face. She caught Varric laughing and pointed at him. "Take some fucking notes!"
"Language!" Cassandra barked, not at all charmed by how bizarre the whole situation was. Her face was steely as the breach thundered above them, ready to spill demons on their heads at a moments notice. "Make ready! It's about to open."
Solas set her back down on the ground and she nodded at him. "Back of the group for us."
"So you were paying attention to our strategizing." He seemed thankful she didn't have a complete death wish, guiding her back behind a line of heavily armoured infantry. She recognized absolutely none of them, but he told her that they belonged to commander cullen's men. "You know what to do then?"
"You told me to hide and try not to scream." She stared at him as the mark on her hand blazed, and things began to fall out of the sky. "Do I look like a coward to you?"
"It is okay to be scared," he said quietly, watching her face for any sign of weakness. "Many people would be terrified of what we are about to do."
"I would be less scared if I could carry more knives. Cassandra wouldn't let me have more than three."
Solas shook his head and turned to the breach. "That's still too many."
The pride demon emerged. The floor shook as it roared, wiping the floor of soldiers as they charged. Arrows bounced off its thick hide, pitting the floor as they danced around the battlefield. Velasco hung back and kept to the shadows, but her hands shook as the creatures barreled through the infantry and crumpled armoured soldiers like puddy.
Her feet were steady as she made her way around the floating statue of Andraste. She kept her distance from the red lyrium, her hand pressed to her though as the mark cracked, so close to the breach as the fade seemed to crystallize in the air, shifting with a strange power. She could feel the uneasiness in the air—could taste salt and sweat on her mouth as the pride demon swiped left and right. She could hear the whip-crack sound of electricity, and then the cry of soldiers as they rushed in to take up the space their brothers and sisters left, falling dead to the ground.
Velasco had never been in a battle like this. Nothing in her training as a crow had prepared her for an open battlefield—her skills were in stealth and surprise attacks. She was the weakest link on the field, and the demons that spilled in from the rift knew it. They sniffed her out among the chaos and lept at her, teeth gnashing in a mad fury.
Solas speared a shade with a deadly chunk of ice after she had jumped out of its reach in time, and a second fell to Bianca after Varric had saved her from a particularly quick rage demon. Spells flew above their heads as wraiths targeted them, but Velasco picked them out with Leliana's bow before they could make their mark.
When she had time, she reached for the breach, forcing it open and stunning the creatures before they could get their bearings.
What remained was the pride demon—seemingly untouched as swords and arrows alike glanced off it. Cassandra darted between its legs as the demon was distracted by Leliana's archers, and didn't catch the seeker in time before she slammed the edge of her ballade down, again and again, into the soft flesh of its ankle. The demon tilted, snarled, and reached around for to grab at her. It's claws found her shield, and a deadly game of tug and war took place as the demon fended off similar attacks from its front.
Velasco saw Cassandra's feet give way, and she darted forward, ignoring Solas's shout for her to stop. She jumped around several armoured men and avoided the demon's arm as it swept forward, trying to catch her. Velasco swallowed the rising fear in her throat, pushing herself forward. She could feel is hot breath against her face, she was so close. She aimed—right at its big, ugly eye sockets—pulled back on her bow, and let go.
The demon screamed and let go of Cassandra's shield, stumbling forward.
She could hear someone shout her name as she rolled out of the way in time, and the pride demon's foot crashed down where she had just been standing. She let out a sigh of relief—
And the creature's massive hand swung forward, clipping her in the side and sending her flying.
The battle came to her in bits and pieces after that.
The ground was hard. Coming to, Velasco couldn't breathe, she didn't know where she was.
There was a crackle of electricity in the air, and suddenly she was being moved—well, dragged, really. Her feet trailed behind her uselessly as someone looped their arm under her stomach. Someone shouted her name, and someone else shone a bright light in her face.
Her ears were ringing—the world spun, not as bad than it did the first time she closed a rift but just as disorienting. She felt like throwing up.
So she did. Much to Varric's displeasure.
"Kid, right on the shoes! I thought you said you were a good shot."
"I am." Velasco wiped her mouth on the rag he had given to her, before handing it back to him with a grim look on her face. "A gift, from me to you."
The dwarf rolled his eyes and stuffed the rag into his back pocket. "You shouldn't have."
Velasco wobbled on her feet, sagging backwards onto the ground as the floor rumbled and the pride demon went charging in the opposite direction. "I don't… feel… so good."
Suddenly, Solas was there. Was that where the bright light had come from? He twirled his Mage staff in his hands, the light… glinting… off his bald head. Velasco was seeing stars. Something was definitely off.
"—lasco, are you hearing me? I think you might have a concussion."
"That's silly," she said, pulling herself back onto her feet. She strung an arrow onto her bow and aimed for the pride demon, only for it to go way off target. She let out a loud groan and put a hand over her face. "That's twice I've missed now! What is this?! Madre perdonami e non sentire mai questo..! This is a nightmare!"
For a moment she could see Varric and Solas look at one another, and then she was on the ground again and Someone was holding onto her.
"I'm… fine…" she said, pushing aside Solas' glowy Mage staff with a huff. With her accuracy with a bow completely thrown off, she tossed it to the side angrily and got back to her feet. Now was not the time for tantrums, but she could feel it in her bones, the anger, rising.
Solas snatched the dagger out of her hands before she did something stupid and fell again, and the rest of her knives followed suit.
"I'm fine!"
"You are not!" He shot back, anger rising in him as the battle raged. The pride demon got back up from ground after Cassandra had locked it off its feet, and it continued to thin out the group of soldiers, breathing coming heavy now as they chipped away at its health. "You are to stay back and keep still! You have a head wound!"
"Fuck you!" The mark was burning now, and the only thing on her mind as she took a step forward. Swords and broken steel littered the ground in front of her, and Solas cast a last second shield on them both as the pride demon shot out a blast of electricity.
The dust settled. Varric, Solas, and the remaining survivors watched on as Velasco reached out to tear at the breach one final time.
The pride demon fell forward—Cassandra plunged her sword into the meaty part of its neck. "Its weakened! Seal the rift!"
The last thing Velasco remembered was the distinct sound of popping, the color green, and the smell of burning, before it all went to black.