Running on Empty: Down With The Sickness
"So growing up, you're in groups, with... Tamassrans?" I asked, trying to keep up with the information. It had already been close to an hour with us sitting out in the snow filled forest of Haven. Bull and I had moved on from the demolished tree and found a spot with small rocks and boulders under the afternoon sun. He sat next to me as a windbreaker, his head half more than mine above my skull, his horns wide. Even when he sat straight to keep from clipping me at the ear with them, I hunched instinctively at the passing shadows they made.
It was a work in progress, getting comfortable next to each other.
"Yeah, they're like... teachers, or Chantry Sisters." He gestured with an open hand toward me. "Like with orphans, one big group of kids being herded around, taught the basics and told not to beat up on one another." He laughed and shook his head, his horns swaying again and once more, like a turtle, I ducked.
He shot me an amused look, "But, the difference between that and us, we're trained and vetted to be specific people. Laborers, craftsmen, spies, healers, that kind of thing." I desperately wished I had my leather journal with me. I had at least two already filled to the brim with what I had learned from Solas concerning the Fade and this conversation was turning much into that lecture.
"Yeah, no." I sighed, knowing enough of orphanages back home. "They don't necessarily do that with us. We have schooling and learn basics like, reading and writing, maybe," I tacked on hastily, realizing that I myself still couldn't read much of their written language, "but the other things like jobs and careers, we don't get to those until we become adults." He peered at me, and I knew I was fumbling with information. I wasn't a spy by any means of the imagination and Bull had already noted that I wasn't who everyone said I was.
Goddamn, I needed a Midol and a nap.
He tilted his head, "I've seen that in my time around. Orlais is a bit better at hiding their homeless and destitute than Ferelden, but they still exist." His nose flared with an exhale. "For us, they match us for our paths pretty quick. I was pegged for military work early on."
"But you're a spy." I wheedled. Another look was shot my way and I wondered how many strikes out I had before he tilted his head just enough to catch the back of mine with a horn. One would think I would know better than to test it, but I was on a reckless streak already, I might as well jump the cliff while I was at it.
I nearly snorted when I realized I missed an opportunity for a "grab the bull by the horns" comment, but my luck was thin.
"I am," he groused, brow ticked with amusement, "when they learned I could hit stuff and lie, they started training me for the Ben-Hassrath."
"Must have been a good day for you." I teased. A smirk flirted over his face and hastily my gaze hit the ground. Didn't need that on my mind just yet. The giggling Chantry Sisters fluttered through my mind and near immediately my cheeks were set on fire, the blaze reaching my ears.
Fuck, I'm an embarrassment. I've seen late night porn, why is this more embarrassing?
"Yeah. It's like being a block of stone with a sculptor working on you." He murmured with a reach up to scratch his ear absently, more than likely ignoring my cherry colored face. "One day, the last of the crap gets knocked off and you can see your real shape, what you're supposed to be. That's a good day." It wasn't like I couldn't sympathize, it was definitely a good feeling when you slipped into who you were meant to be, but...
I was still attempting to find the shoes that fit me and walk in them. My eyes glanced at my maul beside me, a warmth in my chest at the knowledge that I could lift it without issues, could swing and be a contender with it. Nevertheless, I couldn't lead yet. Not like they wanted me to, not like Bull was trained to do, not like Cullen had the experience to do. Effectively, the blind leading the gifted. It was the small steps that were my best ones. I was stronger, at least physically. The rest would come.
"So if you're all raised in groups," I noticed he had gone silent as he watched me, my embarrassment growing, "would something like arranged marriages happen often?"
He snorted hard. "No. Qunari don't do marriage."
"Eh?" I looked at him askance, confusion pinching my face. "What do you mean? Then - I guess... I guess that's what Lieutenant Aclassi meant about a bastard knowing who his mother was?"
"You know." His clear green eye swiveled down to me, curious. "You remember the strangest things. You can't remember or recall names, but you can remember conversations like they were yesterday." It was a statement laced up like a question. It was probably a portion of me that he had learned during our travels. There was no realization that I did it, because conversations were easy. They had context clues and actions associated with the words. A name, was a name, was a name. With all the hundreds of faces I saw each day, traveling or no, it was hard to keep them all straight.
I shrugged, and then narrowed an eye at him. "Marriage."
"Alright," he laughed, "like I said, the Qunari don't have marriages. We love our friends like anyone else does, but we don't have sex with them."
"Qunari don't have sex?" I deadpanned. Bullshit, I had heard those Chantry Sisters and though I wasn't usually one to allow rumors to perpetuate around me, that particular one stuck hard like tar to the ribs. I may have had a crush on the Qunari, but that didn't mean I was above ignoring certain truths.
"Oh, we definitely have sex." He chuckled and shifted in his seat. "There are Tamassrans who pop your cork whenever you need it."
I couldn't stop the laugh. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." He sounded a bit confused, and then huffed. "It's not a big deal like it is here. It's like... I dunno. Going to see a healer or something." Which, when taken into consideration the other things we had talked about, society and roles, a Tamassran wasn't necessarily like a prostitute. She was a den mother, a midwife, a medic, and a spiritual guide all in one. She had many roles to fill and with the added chaos of children, god bless the Tamassrans.
His head shook, neck popping. "Sometimes it's this long involved thing. It takes all day, leaves you walking funny... other times you're in and out in five minutes." He clicked his tongue for two beats, gesturing over his shoulder like he tossed something, his voice changing, "Thank you, see you next week." If it hadn't been something concerning his culture, I would have been in stitches. As it was, there was a mighty attempt on my part to keep my snickering to a minimum.
It did paint a strange situation, but it made sense for the Qunari. What little I knew of their culture, either from Leliana's teachings or what Josephine had to spare (even Cassandra on occasion had a word or two about the Qunari), it painted them almost like a hive. Not a hive mind, precisely, but a hive of busy bees that kept things running. Politeness or niceties weren't necessary when there was so much needing to be accomplished in the span of a lifetime. A question struck me, the voices of the Chantry Sisters echoing between my ears.
"So... you've never really made love?" And what an awkward thing to say. At twenty-six years old, I was no stranger to the intimacies of sex with flings, friends or acquaintances, but it never felt so detached for me. Even being single, there was a connection (at least for me) before I dove into bed with anyone. His good eye narrowed on me, and hastily added, "Y'know, connected with someone in both body and soul?"
"I don't know." He snorted with a half-hearted shrug. "One time they used this thing called saartoh nehrappan. It's a leather-wrapped rod on a harness... that wasn't really my soul, though." That kind of item sounded strangely familiar and it made me smile, it seemed our worlds weren't quite as different as I would think. There was still a chuckle that escaped me and another snort flared his nose.
"Also," he added cheekily, "there was more than two people."
It was my turn to snort.
"You're trying to shock me, but it ain't gonna work." I answered his smirk with a raised brow. His eye patch twitched and I laughed. "I've seen my fair share of strange things. Our lot aren't so discreet as we'd like to think we are." He chuckled with a nod and a silence blanketed us. Gently my heels kicked against the boulder I sat on and waited. I knew it was my turn to share, but my nerves were fraying rapidly under my skin.
"So." He started after a good handful of minutes. "How about we start at the beginning, hm?" Hesitation struck me. Leliana had warned me against sharing my true story with anyone, for good reason. Undermining the legitimacy of the Inquisition when it was already on a shaky foundation with my honest truth would destroy us. I glanced up at Bull and he stared ahead of us, gaze flickering over the snow. At this moment, there wasn't enough trust between us for it.
The memory of the Mark pulsing with his certainty, with his purpose in killing me if I posed a threat, was still too fresh. Weird attraction aside, he could very well stab me in the back if I brought hell down on our heads. Honestly, I could respect that, but it also meant I couldn't share with him the truth. A swallow forced its way down my throat and a heavy sigh came up, my hands running over my head and down the back of my neck.
"The only honest thing I can tell you is that I can't give you details." I started. His eye darkened and swiveled back to me. My gaze found his, knowing that I couldn't look away now, not if I wanted him to trust me in this. "Because it would be dangerous. I can tell you small things, but... knowing you, you might piece it all together anyway."
"And if I come to the wrong conclusion?" He murmured heavily, his shoulders relaxed but his throat was stiff. Things I could only notice with being right up close to him, sitting nearly hip to hip.
"Who would believe you?" I answered softly, sincere. "It's the same reason I don't share, because... who would?"
"Point." He nodded his head gently. "What can you tell me? Because right now, if we're baring the best of us, you're sounding more and more like an infiltrator." A laugh came up at that, surprised and choked. The idea of me, dorky, terrified, two-left-feet Jaime being an infiltrator when I could barely be myself struck deep at bundle of hysteria.
"You're here, the honest truth." I held my hand palm up to him and then leaned down and picked up a rock, chucking it as far as I could in front of us. "And that actually being true is wherever the fuck that fell." He rolled his good eye and huffed. He reached out and smacked my palm down lightly, making me laugh again. What an odd sense of friendship, being simultaneously terrified and flustered by this creature beside me.
"Then give me some idea." He prodded, shifting to lean his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and making his back stretch. Promptly I flicked my gaze away and stared at the forest around us. I'm sure he knew with absolute certainty what he was doing or what he looked like. I was a book with no covers and easy to read, but I wasn't going to reinforce any of those rumors of attraction or shit. Fuuuuuck that.
I cleared my throat. "My name is Jaime Wyatt." He didn't blink, or move, or react. He stared at the side of my face and with a sigh, I continued. "I am twenty-six years old, but I was not raised in an orphanage. I had parents, an older brother, and a young one."
"You weren't born in Ferelden." He interjected. He sat up straight again and ran a hand down his chin with his brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I knew your accent was strange, but even with traveling, you can still pinpoint where someone stayed the most by certain words. Yours, and some of the phrases you say..."
"I can't tell you where I came from, that's classified." I shrugged.
"See, like that." He chuckled, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Granted, orphans could be potentially well-read, but Ferelden and Orlais don't put too much in the way of educating their less fortunate."
"What?" I laughed with a bemused twitch of my mouth and brow at him. "All because I said 'classified'?"
"That, and things like 'my guy' or that other word," he snapped his fingers, attempting to recall whatever I had said. "Ah, right. Dude. Don't know what that is, but you use it a lot." My lungs pulled a deep breath and held it, my fingers came up to scratch at the spot between my eyebrows as my eyes closed. Fuck, I'm not as sneaky as I think I am. That's something anyone can notice. Unlike Bull, though, I'm sure most of my other companions or the Inquisition weren't going to question the weird words of an unknown, uneducated orphan.
Fuck, they probably think I'm stupid as shit and just don't correct me when they think I use a word that doesn't exist for them.
That was humbling.
"Why can't you read? If you had a family, you don't act like a low-born. Are you?" He asked pointedly. My shoulders went stiff and my back wiggled in place, shifting me on the boulder. My mind pondered the question, because that was one I didn't understand myself. When I heard them, listened to them, I understood them. Granted, their accents were strange, varied like back in my world, but there was a hint of something to it, faint and extremely minuscule that it bothered me not at all. We could communicate, but it was as if listening to a second language that I was competent in, but not comprehensively fluent.
"I can." My reply broke the silence that settled between us. I was glad he didn't push and allowed me to think. "In a way. Certain words or lettering, or rather... a collection of letters, when they're patterned a certain way, I can understand them. Varric isn't wrong, smaller words are easier because I can memorize the pattern for them faster." Bull watched me with a keener interest than before and I wondered if I had given too much away. It was just language, right? What could he know of me from that?
"Reading is much the same." He murmured curiously. "Just memorization and repetition."
I shook my head, hands clasped in my lap. "No, see like... fuck, how do I explain this?" I shifted down and pulled out my little knife from my belt. In the snow I jotted down a few words that I knew the meaning of and matched them with the English ones. The letters weren't precisely the same in structure or symbol, but there was a faint similarity. I wrote out 'dog' in English and the same one I knew meant 'dog' in the common tongue of Thedas.
"Dog," I pointed to the English one, forcing my word to sound as close to English as I could. "And dog, but you know this one, right?" He wasn't paying attention to me anymore. Deep in my soul, something started to shake. What was I doing? This was crazy, even with this he could see me as insane, making up a language, or maybe the Fade had done something to my brain? Christ, the more and more I thought about it, the more and more I regretted opening my mouth.
"Please," I suddenly begged, fear laced my shaky exhale. "I kn-know it doesn't mean much, but I s-swear I'm not insane." Which, once more upon further thought, was just as good as confirming that I was. Fuck, bitch, shit this is bad. He's never gonna trust me again after this, there's no way I could explain this to someone who didn't see me from the start, and I can't tell him everything. Omitting parts was a bad fucking idea.My brain flopped like a mushy pancake between my ears and I shuddered.
"... you don't read the language." His eye studied me, something dark and deep rested behind his searching gaze. "But you can speak it."
"I think..." I swallowed, fire bloomed in my stomach and fear brought tears up to my eyes. I was in the woods with a man who could snap me over his knee. "I think I'm cheating, with the speech. L-like a parrot, if you have those here. A bird couldn't read the language, but meaning and understanding can still be obtained through auditory instruction."
"Boss." He sighed, and then rubbed the back of his head with his gaze ducked down. "This is..."
"I know." I choked, my arms shook against my sides as I hugged them around my chest and tentatively sat next to him again. "It sounds crazy, but considering that we have a hell-mouth over our heads, demons busting out the ass, and the whole world falling apart... I would like to think my case isn't so far-fetched."
"The implications of this," he growled lowly, "for the Qunari? For the Inquisition? Some person, some assumed human that falls out of the Fade with a Mark on their hand, can't read or write, no background to verify, but can speak, can command the rifts, feel demons, destroy them with a touch." He brought his eye up to me and pinned me with it, no longer the mercenary commander or even the meat-muscle sent to defend, he was every inch the Qunari spy, the man sent to rectify problems.
And I was looking like one hell of a problem.
"I am human," my voice squeaked, meek and trembling, "I'm not a demon, the only connection I have to the Fade is this." I raised my hand for him and the Mark was dim and gentle in my palm, as always one pulsing beat behind the rhythm of my heart. My teeth clenched, the muscles of my jaw jumped.
"B-but... I see your point. There's no way I can make you believe me." I swallowed again. He stood and instinctively I flinched briefly, my shoulders curled and my hands tight against my sides. There was a pause and I looked over at him. Slowly, his body relaxed and faintly, with a terror deep in my heart, I wondered if he had resisted the urge to strike me down.
I haven't thrown up in months, but right now was sounding pretty good.
"... I can believe you." He answered gently. Startled, my gaze shot up to his face and it was strained, but calm. His jaw shifted as he swallowed and sighed, shaking his head. "Seekers... we know enough about them. They're trained, extensively, to help root out possession and demon-infestation. Corruption. They're called Seekers for a reason. If you managed to get past Cassandra and Red's vetting, then... I can believe you."
Relief did not flood me as I expected. My heart stuttered behind my ribs and the tears had collected at the corners of my eyes, cold and threatening. He towered over me and my mind heaved a choked reminder that my maul was a good two or three meters from me. A hand came up to my face and shook before it covered my eyes.
"Thank you." The words were hollow and held no promise in them. The heel of my palm swept across my eyes and I patted both my cheeks. He remained in his place and I stood with a nervous twitch in my knees. Without directly bolting for it like a crazed-woman, I stepped over and retrieved my maul. I stared at it, hesitation pushed behind my lungs and made me short of breath.
"I'm sending the Chargers back to the Hinterlands with Cassandra." To make no mention of him, because the bridge we stood on right now that arched between us felt shabby. "They're getting our horses and I'm heading out to the Fallow Mire." He shifted behind me and his footsteps were heavy, the snow crunched under his boots. He was beside me in moments.
"I take it I'm not coming now?" His tone was carefully neutral as he stared down at me.
"I'm not petty and I'm not stupid." I lightly answered and looked up, my expression pinched over my mouth and cheeks. "But I'm not forcing anyone to come with me for this one. The Fallow Mire is diseased, a plague most like. I'm there on a vendetta."
"A vendetta?" He rumbled and took another step to be more in my line of sight. "I thought we didn't do revenge. No time, I recall."
"I do now." My voice cracked and I snapped my molars together, a flicker of rage curling under my stomach. I should have made time. "I left men to die on the Storm Coast. The bandits couldn't leave well enough alone, and now some Avvar asshole wants a name for himself, challenging me to a fight and taking my men hostage."
"And you're going answer him?" His head tilted, his brow raised. "Doing so could allow for others to do the same, take soldiers hostage in order to get the Herald's attention."
"Then they'll have it." I growled. I knew what he said had a nugget of possibility in it and in the grand scheme of strategy this was unsound, but I was incapable of letting it go. I didn't care if I didn't know their faces, their names, or their families. They were my men, my soldiers, men and women who trusted me to lead them and to help them survive this chaos.
"If I can't keep my men safe, reward their trust in me, then what the fuck am I doing leading?" The last of it came out in a quiet snarl that hissed through my teeth. Bull raised an eyebrow in response and the twine of anxiety within my spine snapped. "I ask them to step out into the line of fire, to patrol these places, and when shit goes down I'm not going to wash my hands of it and tell them shit sucks!"
"But if you put the life and needs of some soldiers over the security of the Inquisition, you're not really helping anyone." Bull countered. Bile boiled in my stomach, because fuck him he was right and I knew it. I shouldn't waste my time wandering all the way out to the Fallow Mire for a handful of men taken hostage, not into some diseased place that could kill me or my companions. Even so.
Even so.
"This Inquisition is built on faith." I hammered on, determined to at least reassure myself that I wasn't making a mistake. "Faith that what we're doing isn't pointless, meaningless, that my men could go home and get fat." I rallied my wits and took a tremendous inhale, my shoulders shook as I pinned him with a heated gaze.
"Ignoring the hostage situation, ignoring my murdered people at the Storm Coast, ignoring anything that put the Inquisition in danger could save us, and we'd make it to the finish line." My exhale shot through my nose and burned on the way out, the ice of the air rushing to slither into my lungs. "But when we cross that finish line, we won't be an Inquisition of the people, we'll be just another powerhouse that ignores the needs of its followers."
He seemed at ease with my small outburst. I hadn't been as loud as I wanted to be, we were still in a mountain range and things could echo. Bad enough that the Chargers who camped not far from us could have already gotten an earful of the argument. Bull's good eye roamed over my face and my cheeks felt like sundried tomatoes, but I didn't give a damn.
"I'm going." I answered his stare. "If you want to come, pack your shit up and be at the stables by morning."
With that, I walked my sorry ass back to the settlement.
- 0 -
I spent the rest of my day wandering around Haven and pointedly ignoring any Chantry Sisters or Qunari. Bull made no effort to seek me out, as I knew he wouldn't, it wasn't his style (and for that, I was grateful). I had managed to snag Solas as he returned from the Breach, exhausted and eyes sunken. Any idea of asking him to come with me to the Fallow Mire dried up in my throat. It took me a good solid fucking hour to get the egghead to agree to a few days off, but there was no protest in him when he slumped his way toward his cabin and shut the door behind him.
Varric was another option, but after some discussion around his fire and hearing the uproar between the lyrium traders and the Chantry, he had his hands full. I would leave him to his duties, then, as he and Josephine were nearly finished striking up a deal to increase our supply. We hadn't sided with the mages or Templars just yet, but we did have quite a handful in our ranks already, and they were going mad at the seams with withdrawals.
So two marked off the list.
Sera flat out refused when I told her of the bog and its disease. Not that I blamed her, her goal was to end the war and set things straight. She knew of the missing patrol and was more than ready to stick it to the Avvar, but something about the corpses disturbed her deeply. Upon inspection, I wondered if she was more religious than she let on, because she sang along with some of the hymns that the Chantry Sisters would sing in the early mornings, and was mindful enough not to curse too much around Mother Giselle. A conundrum for another time, perhaps.
Cassandra was already set up to head out with the Chargers the next morning.
Fuck.
That left me Warden Blackwall, who's intensity had lessened considerably throughout the day but still made me worry, Lady Vivienne, who had given little indication of interest in the happenings of the Inquisition aside from acquiring as many books as possible, and... The Iron Bull.
Fuckity fuck.
Blackwall, when I approached him and explained the situation to him, had agreed in the span of a heartbeat. It seemed he and I were of an accord that men should not be abandoned, even for convenience. It was reassuring, but once more there was something to his look, behind his eyes and in his words that made me think perhaps there was more to the issue than what I could see. When and if Bull and I were on better terms, I would have to ask him about it. Maybe I was paranoid, as my father used to say; a criminal justifies themselves because they think everyone is a criminal, too.
I seriously needed that fucking Midol and a nap.
Lady Vivienne, after a few awkward moments of silence and a long stare she gave me when I finished explaining all that the trip would entail, agreed. Colored me surprised for sure and I held back the reflexive ehhh? that nearly escaped me. I left her with a bow of my head as she dismissed me, preparing to pack for the travel. This would be interesting, because Vivienne seemed like a toss up of a woman. Elegant and smooth and wicked, wrapped up in elaborate finery and silk, but with an edge to her that I was a bit too nervous to test for sharpness. I suppose now was going to be the time to figure it out.
I didn't bother checking in with Bull, eating my own words about not being petty but goddamn it I had been recovering for the morning and then he walked in to muck it all up. If I was honest (and I was trying not to be, because it makes it hard to stay mad), I had been unfair to the man. I could see his point clearly; had anyone dropped into my world claiming to be something else, with no rhyme or reason, and a portal to hell strapped to their hand... yeah, okay, so I could absolutely see his point, but for now I was happy just to be puffy about it.
Sue me.
The next morning had the Chargers and Cassandra sent off. I stood by the gate with my gear and watched as the horde of people marched out again for the Hinterlands. Cassandra spared me a moment and held her hand to me, which I took in a tight grip, and we were frozen for a moment in time. Forcibly, a smile was brought to my face to reassure her. It disturbed me that the more I grew into my position as Herald, the less that she stayed at my side. I knew I should have taken it as a good thing, because with Cassandra freed of tutoring me, she was able to do other things to further the reach of the Inquisition.
It didn't make me miss her or her presence any less.
"Do try to stay safe," she murmured as she let go of my hand, "I would hate to find out something happened and I was not there."
"I will be, Cassandra." The smile was truer now. "You've trained me well." Instinctively, I leaned forward and slung my arms around her neck, her armor clinking with mine. My heart fluttered in my chest as the woman returned my hug with no hesitation. People could say what they wanted about Cassandra, her scars and hardened attitude, but she was a sweet and unrelentingly caring woman. She had my heart and soul in her hands and for that alone, I would give it my best. I waited at the gate, watching them go and only looked away as more shadows approached me.
Leliana and Cullen walked from the gate to where I stood by the stables, Avonal stood ready with his saddle and reins slung over his neck, ears flicking over his head with impatience. I smiled at the Hydra heads and pursed my lips over my teeth, a wrecking ball of my nerves ricocheting through my ribs. Behind them Lady Vivienne and Bull came along, both outfitted for the arduous journey to the diseased land of the Mire, but whereas Bull wore a heavy padded pair of pants and shoulder braces on both sides, Lady Vivienne was adorned in fine, sturdy, glittering armor and dark brown cloth that fitted to her form.
An odd choice of clothing, but I wasn't going to judge. Blackwall was already in the stables readying the spare horses we had for the other two.
"Herald," the Commander greeted softly, "I see you're already prepared. Never waste a moment, do you?"
"Only when I'm sleeping." I jested. It brought a small, amused smirk to his lips.
Leliana slipped in on my other side, her eyes on Avonal. "We received another report from Scout Harding. It seems... they have more than just the Avvar to deal with, Herald."
"Eh?" My hand paused on Avonal's nose and he nipped at my fingers. "What do you mean?"
"The corpses are moving." Cullen muttered on my other side. "As in, reanimated."
"Oh." I said hollowly. "That's..." Sickening. It was one thing to watch movies or read books about zombies and reanimated corpses, with moaning, empty shells and broken limbs. It was a completely other thing to have it in real life and shambling toward you in the thick of a fog. A shiver shot down my spine and it popped a bubble of bile that pushed up against the bottom of my tongue. I gagged it back and the blood rushed from my face. I had a week and some days to get used to the idea. Oooh boy.
Leliana nodded. "Yes. I've sent word ahead to expect your arrival, as well as to hold back until we know what is happening."
"Thank you, Leliana." I tugged on Avonal's reins and drew him out of the stable and toward the path that led out of Haven. Blackwall returned from further within with the other horses following, passing the reins to Bull and Lady Vivienne when he was able. We saddled up and I shared one more look with Leliana and Cullen, my teeth tight behind my cheeks as I smiled at them.
"Take care, Herald." Cullen saluted me with his arm across his chest. Leliana bowed her head to me and with a wave, we were off. Lady Vivienne took up my right hand side and kept her horse at a careful trot just a pace behind Avonal. Blackwall took my left side and Bull at the rear. An imaginary hole being burned in the back of my head. We took no other soldiers with us as speed and time were critical necessities. We took no leisure pace, our horses trotted at a hard stride for the better part of the day and the rest of the week.
I was surprised that Lady Vivienne made no complaint toward the camping or sleeping arrangements. Only bedrolls and cold dinners, washing our horses down and feeding them treats in reward for their steady and unrelenting pace. When we arrived at the Fallow Mire, the sky had darkened as it had been when we arrived at the Storm Coast. Thunderous clouds rolled over our heads and rain dripped with heavy drops that seared down the skin at the touch.
Harding was at a camp near the beginning of the marsh land. Her mouth was pressed tight over her teeth and her eyes hollow and hard. There was only a handful of soldiers around her and she greeted me with a swift salute, shoulders stiff and nose flared. The rest of the soldiers looked worn out and battered, their eyes sunken into their sockets. My heart ached for my men, having been stuck in this marsh and then losing their people. I returned Harding's salute.
"Thank you for coming." Harding started, voice rough. "Maybe you can solve this mess." She was putting a lot of faith in me, but my rage would carry me. I had the travel to try and simmer down, but it did nothing to help. I was being a child, running into a fight against a bully who had picked on my friends.
"Tell me." I murmured. My armor itched, either because of the rain or my annoyance with the Avvar. My three companions around me shifting as they waited for our battle plan.
Harding snorted. "As you've heard, our missing patrols are being held hostage by the Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains."
"What are they doing in a bog?" I questioned, my face frowned. Lightning struck somewhere near in the bog, sparks flew through the air and the water glittered with the released energy. We would have to be careful as we walked through, and made a fleetingly mental note to inquire about rubber and if it existed anywhere in this world. It would help with the bog and mages with electrical affinities.
"That's the thing, their leader... he wants to fight you. Because you're the Herald of Andraste." Scout Harding groused. Her arms were tight behind her back and it seemed she mirrored the same anger I felt. I glanced out over her head, I could see nothing beyond the fog that surrounded the camp, the lightning strikes didn't do much to help.
"I've survived demons and Chantry Mothers," I joked to relieve her of some stress with a look back to her, "I think I can handle some southern barbarians." There was an amused sniff behind me from Lady Vivienne and Blackwall's low belly chuckle reassured me a bit. Bull, perhaps unnaturally so, was quiet. Don't make it a mistake that I brought you, Bull. From Lieutenant Aclassi's stories, I was gambling on the fact that Bull's professionalism would win out.
"Yeah, you'd think." Harding snorted again. "But they're a brawny bunch. Getting to our troops won't be easy. You'll have to fight your way through undead -" Harding stopped and I knew why, because fucking hell how the fuck did I forget about the corpses. I wasn't even a day out from Haven to the Fallow Mire and they had slipped my mind; I was so focused on getting my men back. Blood drained from my face and stiffly, my upper lip held its place.
Harding cocked an eye at me. "Wait... you're not squeamish about undead, are you?"
"We need to get our men back." I deflected. There was a worried glance from Blackwall just beyond my shoulder, but I kept my chin raised and straight. Now was not the time to allow my fears to get the best of me, I had let them do so for far too long and people paid for it. It was high time that I was the one to cash out.
"Agreed." She took another long, peering look over my face and then sighed. "The Avvar are holed up in the castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire. Maker willing, the Inquisition's people are still alive." My nose flared with an exhale, my molars clenched around my tongue. The Avvar would not have a Grand Time of it if I walked in to find my slaughtered soldiers. I nodded to her and with the dismissal, she turned back to her men to care for them.
"What's the plan?" Blackwall immediately pounced. His brow was furrowed over heated eyes and I held up a hand and waited until Bull and Vivienne drew in closer. My eyebrow cocked in amusement as Bull gave Lady Vivienne a wide berth. Is that because she's a mage, or Orlaisian? Or both?
"We scout first. From what Leliana had told me beforehand, they couldn't get much lay of the land because of the Avvar or the undead rising up to pull them under the water." My eyes closed and I shook my head with a deep exhale. My hand lowered to my hip to hold, the Mark a warm pulse in my hand that I hid behind my back.
"The undead are a peculiar issue." Lady Vivienne intoned with a raised brow. "I would look into that as well, Herald. That is magic, not the Maker."
"What, like necromancy?" I asked, startled, my gaze on Vivienne. "You think there's a mage among the Avvar?"
"No." Bull finally joined in, his voice low, his gaze just over my shoulder. "Avvar avoid magic just about as much the Qunari do. Any mage that appears in their ranks is usually killed or abandoned."
"Oh, that's lovely." I huffed a short breath. "Then an outside force without a connection to the Avvar?"
"Possibly. Most likely." Blackwall ran a hand down his beard. "Perhaps an apostate testing their limits?"
"Such magic is detestable." Lady Vivienne countered sharply, brow still raised. "If anything, it may just be a demon that's fueling the chaos. In the end, our best course of action is to root it out and nullify it."
"I agree with you on that." I muttered and mimicked Blackwall, my hand running down my face. The rain still came down in spurts. "Keep close, watch the water, and don't touch anything without gloves on, hear?"
"Understood." Lady Vivienne and Blackwall graced me with replies. Bull still focused his gaze just over my shoulder, but nodded in response. Oh, man, this is going to be a long day if he's going to keep that up. Damn it, I shouldn't have said a damn thing.
"Right," I grunted, "then let's hunt these fuckers down."
Zombieland here I come.
Note: You've been waiting for this conversation, I've been waiting to share it. Honestly, it isn't until you get to writing down all the shit that can go wrong that you realize: nothing is going to be okay.
