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A Templar Unbound

Chapter Five
Weight of Stone

A blade of sunlight pierced through the tumble-down rafters of the roof, and Cullen lay there blinking at it, his head swimming.

He blinked once, twice, then sat up.

He was in his bed. In Skyhold. What in the name of the Maker…?

Tenderly, Cullen pressed his fingers to his temples, where a headache now seethed as violently and angrily as a rage demon living just behind his eyes. He stared around his room. A breeze that nipped at his skin, causing him to shiver, and draw back the covers to find with mild alarm that he was naked. Throwing back the bed cover, he dressed quickly, his nimble fingers working at his smallclothes, and then his armour, with the memory of having done so a thousand times before. His mind, however, was elsewhere.

He knew it hadn't been a dream — of that much he was certain. But to be wrenched so suddenly and forcefully from the vision, with no recollection of how he got here, or even what day it was. He frowned. The witch; had she done something?

It was only when he saw the orb, lying amongst a pile of rags in the corner, that he was drawn back to the present.

He was part way through fastening one of his buckles when his eyes fell upon the dark sphere, and he immediately found he was beside it, retrieving it from its home between the rags, all thoughts of dressing forgotten. He held up the sphere to the sun beam, but it stared back at him like a soulless, dark eye that reflected no light. Nestled in his palm it was cold, like it had spent its life in the shadows, like it had never known warmth. The chill radiated through his fingers and into his wrist, down his arm.

As he watched, strange shapes and colours began to move within the orb, as though it had captured the essence of flesh to replay to him at any time.

Since his time at Ferelden's Circle, Cullen had seen demons, abominations, corruptions, blood magic, and worse — all of them had been evil, and each time when he faced it, it was with the cold hand of fear tracing his spine. But this orb… He could feel the evil emanating off it as though it were the source of each and every one of those nightmares. As the chill travelled his body, the images within the orb seemed to engulf him, surround him — visions of the life he had tried to leave behind. Blood. Bodies. The smell of death that choked him. Mangled corpses, twisted faces of the people he had once known. And then the demons, and their torture, and the flesh ripped from his brothers inch by inch, their cries filling him so completely that he was drowning in their pain…

With a yell that burst from him as forcefully as a punch, he threw the Dema Sphere on to the bed. It didn't bounce, merely fell to the fabric with the weight of a stone.

"Maker forgive me," he murmured to the silence that followed.

Covering his face with his hands, Cullen turned away from the wretched thing and felt its cool hold over him recede. With a somewhat ragged breath, he dropped his hands — and came face to face with the Inquisitor.

"Maker's breath," he choked out in surprise. The woman was slight, but he would have expected to at least have heard her climb the ladder up to his sleeping quarters. "I-Inquisitor," he continued, stumbling over his words. "I… To what do I owe the pleasure?"

She wasted no time in formalities. "Cullen, are you all right?" She came towards him, a hand outstretched, and touched his elbow as she searched his eyes. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Taken aback by her familiarity, Cullen lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling self-conscious; he had never had the Inquisitor in his room before, though she had spent some considerable time in his office.

"I am fine, My Lady," he assured her, and stood between her view and that of the orb tangled in his bed sheets behind him, like a secret lover he did not want the world to know of. "Was there something I could do for you?"

He motioned to the ladder, hoping she would pick up on his not so subtle invitation to return to his office, but instead she stepped around his room and examined some vines crawling up one of his walls. He glanced to his bed, only to find, to his surprise, that the sphere was nowhere to be seen.

Without looking at him, the Inquisitor said, "We haven't seen much of each other since everything with Corypheus. I wanted to talk to you about what you intend to do next." When she turned around, her pale eyes fixed him with such a knowing look that he wondered briefly if she could see right through him. "You… do intend to continue to command our forces?"

Business as usual, then. Unbidden, Cullen's mind graced him with memories of golden hair, a laugh that tinkled like bells, supple curves — no. He clenched his fist. Not now.

"Why do you ask, Inquisitor?"

He hadn't meant to sound so guarded, but at the expression the Inquisitor's fell to at his response, Cullen could have kicked himself for inviting further question. How was he supposed to tell her that part of the reason he had joined the Inquisition was in the hopes they would one day have enough resources to search for the Dema Sphere? That was not something an honourable man did, much less admit to.

The Inquisitor stepped towards him. "Cullen, if there's something we can do for you to make you more comfortable here. A roof, for example." She glanced to the ceiling, and to the gaping hole and crumbling wall.

Cullen found himself smiling. "A… roof might be nice, come to speak of it. I did without when we needed all our resources for keeping Skyhold safe and fortified, but with the threat reduced, I could probably afford that small indulgence."

He'd hoped to draw a smile from her, but to no avail. Her eyes still shone with worry, darting between his and causing a small line to appear between them, just above her nose. She always had been astute.

"You worry me, Cullen," she said softly.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "I… do not mean to, My Lady."

"When I first met you, on the way to the Breach with Cassandra, I watched you help a soldier get away from the wreckage. You pulled his arm around your shoulders and walked with him. You didn't even think about it, you just did it."

Cullen cleared his throat, embarrassed at having been scrutinised so fully. "If the man needed my help, then of course — "

"You're a good Commander, Cullen. You're a good man. This Inquisition wouldn't be what it is today without you. I need you by my side to forge a future of stability."

"Lady Inquisitor, I have no intention of leaving the Inquisition," he said, drawing himself up straightly. "I don't know what has given you this concern, but I am sworn to this cause as much as I ever have been, if not more so." He touched his hand to his breastplate. "I follow your lead, My Lady."

This seemed to ease her fears, as her shoulders relaxed and she gave him a smile. "Good. I knew Morrigan didn't know what she was talking about."

At the name, he froze.

"…Morrigan? You spoke with Morrigan about this?"

Briefly, he recalled the first time he had met her, when he had been bound by that demon's energy cage in the Tower. She had stood before him between a templar pretender and the Hero of Ferelden, a wicked gleam in her eye that ten years hadn't done a thing to dim. She almost seemed like she'd marvelled at the magical cage holding him, hungering for its power.

The Inquisitor waved away his comment as though it were a bothersome fly. "She found me while I was wandering the gardens, and questioned how well I knew your motives for being here. She seemed to imply that she knew more than she was letting on. She also said to tell you…" The Inquisitor frowned, and glanced away from him.

"Yes?"

She looked up to him, a coy smile on her lips. "Playing messenger isn't something I'm used to, Commander. Is there something I should know?"

While she was joking, that didn't stop the twist of guilt that lurched through his stomach.

"I… Ah…"

The smile at her eyes faded, and she glanced behind him, towards the bed. She frowned. "What's that?" she asked, moving towards the bed.

Cullen moved to intercept her, panic fluttering in his chest. "I — nothing, My Lady."

But she ignored him, side stepping his attempt at blocking her. Seized by panic, his hands went for her, an explanation tumbling from his lips. He was desperate to keep her from learning the truth. As a cry left his body, tearing through his throat, his hands found her. They gripped, and tangled, into... nothing. The apparition of the Inquisitor disappeared before his very eyes.

Cullen stumbled forward helplessly. The stone wall slapped against his hands, stinging his palms, and he stood there panting for a moment. Then he whirled around towards where the orb lay on the bed, sitting like a black hole amongst his pristine sheets. Mocking him. The room was empty, and he was alone. A sense of dread prickled at the base of his spine and a wave of nausea overcame him. Andraste's sword, what was happening to him? He slumped down on to the bed, his skin feeling tight, drawn, his eyes stinging with tiredness. Dropping his head to his hands he buried his fingertips to his scalp, blinking away the blinding tears that had sprung to his eyes.

"Maker," he uttered, the word leaving him on a shaky breath. "I am going mad."

The Inquisitor had never been there at all: he had imagined her, and their entire conversation. His mouth felt dry. He had experienced hallucinations before, thanks to his Lyrium withdrawal, but this potency was different...

He glared at the Dema Sphere, its perfect blackness giving rise to whispers inside his head. With an angry jerk, he covered the thing with his bed sheets, hiding it from view. Getting to his feet, he finished fastening his armour and headed towards the ladder. He didn't notice the curious pair of eyes that watched him from the rooftop.

-x-

Cullen swept through the corridors of Skyhold fortress, his mood as sour as a plate of milk left in the sun. Where he would normally have stopped to make polite conversation or check on his soldiers, he marched straight towards Morrigan's quarters. He was only mildly surprised to find it was empty.

Upon learning that she spent the majority of her time in the Chantry gardens from a servant nearby, a fact that baffled him when he thought about, he set his mouth in a grim line and went in search of her. She was easy enough to spot in her unseemly robes, flaunting the fact she was an apostate in front of the very people who once would have sought to condemn her. It had never really crossed his mind how dangerous of an ally they had found in her, until now.

She was chatting with a woman he didn't recognise, and he waited impatiently until there was a break in their conversation. Morrigan had astutely ignored him upon his arrival at her side.

"A moment, Lady Morrigan," he said sternly, and took her by the elbow to a secluded part of the gardens, overhung by the fort.

While she let herself be led by him, she bristled at his touch. "Unhand me, you simple man, or I will turn you into a toad."

Cullen released her with a frown once they reached the darkness of the corridor. "Have a care, my Lady, I only meant – "

"Perhaps you are used to having people follow your orders, but not I." While her voice was abrupt, her eyes sparked with mischief. "Has something spooked you, Commander?"

"You know very well why I am here." He lowered his voice. "We had barely begun, and I found myself suddenly in my chambers, with no recollection of how I got there."

"Well, you did not think to re-live your entire life in but one evening, did you? 'Twould be foolish to do such a thing." Morrigan crossed her arms in front of her, fixing the Commander with an expression that said he should have known better. So, it had only been the one evening, then. At least that was something. "I know you are eager, but patience must be exercised in all things, even this. Especially in this, one might argue. These are not simple magics you play with."

"I am not playing with any magic!" Cullen replied heatedly, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. He took a breath, calming himself. "Just tell me how I can… I don't want any needless interruptions. And…" He frowned, then, recalling everything that he had seen so far. "All of that, it's just memory, so far. Nothing is different. How long before — "

Morrigan raised a hand, her palm outward, cutting him off. "The Sphere will show you what you need to see, templar. How long it takes to tell its tale will rely on how ready you are to see it. 'Tis not a simple thing to re-write the fabric of time."

"But you said it wouldn't change anything. Not here."

She gave him a simpering smile, as though he were something she wouldn't wish to tread in. It flared in him an anger that he tamped down by swallowing and moving his gaze out into the gardens instead.

"Do not ask me to explain to you the complex workings of an object older than this earth," she said, her voice quiet. "Even I do not know its full potential. You have tapped in to the Sphere once, now, so it will recognise you when you do so again. That is why it has an earthly presence now. Why you are here interrogating me, rather than continuing on your journey, I have no idea. I can't imagine you want to spend more time with me."

Cullen glanced at her quickly. "I do not wish to be disturbed again. Or, I should say, I would rather not find myself in a suddenly uncompromising position. If I can be drawn back to here, now, without any warning whatsoever — "

"You awoke as though from sleep, did you not?"

"…Yes."

Morrigan sighed, not unlike how she might if she were explaining something to a small child. "That will always be the way. No matter how long you spend in that other world, you will always awake in this one."

Realisation dawned on Cullen, and his eyes widened. "The world here — it doesn't stop, does it?"

"No," said Morrigan with a smirk. "However much time you invest into the Dema Sphere, you will lose from your life here. I trust that isn't an issue, Commander?"

He had half a mind to take that saccharine smile and ram it into the wall, but he refrained.

"No issue," he said instead, his teeth gritted, and went to move past the infuriating mage. "Good day, Morrigan."

She watched him go with a twinkle in her eye. "Pleasant dreams, Commander."

-x-

Cullen sat in his office, his hands tense at his sides. Before him on the desk, the Dema Sphere lay proudly in its throne of rags, like a black hole pulling at his thoughts. Again he felt the whispers rise up around him as he looked at it, and again he tried to shake them off. He took a breath, glancing towards the door to make sure it was locked. It was late in the afternoon and he had seen to the few reports that had been passed his way. His mind went to Selena, to what she had become, to what he had lost… And he reached forward, gripping the orb in his palms.

The world went black.

-x-

"Gone? What do you mean she's gone? What attack?" Greagoir stalked towards the door, towering above the knight before him. "The Void take you boy, what happened?"

"There is no need to frighten the lad, Greagoir." This voice was Irving's, and he rose from the stool he sat at with a stern expression.

"I'll remind you that your affairs concern only the mages of this Tower, First Enchanter," said the Knight-Commander, his teeth gritted.

Irving cleared his throat. "Indeed." Turning to the templar in the doorway, he said, "Did you see what happened?"

The knight came into the room, and faced the Knight-Commander, offering him a salute. "Ser Fralen and I were keeping watch over Anders, as was our rota, Ser. Your templars were watching that other mage who's been down there. Then out of nowhere there was... there was ..." The knight seemed to falter, and his arm began to shake. His face was ashen, his eyes wide. Cullen wanted to go to his side and help calm him, but the Knight-Commander issued a swift grunt.

"Out with it, boy."

Closing his eyes, the knight pushed on, "There was a demon, Ser. A rage demon. I swear by Andraste's sword I have never seen anything so..."

At this, the Knight-Commander seemed to soften. He put an arm gently on the recruit's shoulder. "I understand. Tell me, where is the demon now? Is it — is it still a danger?"

"It's… it's dead, Ser. I think. We – the three of us, we cut it down. There was so much fire... I couldn't see clearly for the shouts and cries. We..." He bowed his head, his shoulders shaking. "Ser Fralen didn't make it, Ser. But the demon was struck down and it... There's just ash and cinders now." When he raised his head again, his eyes were hard, glassy. "But the mage was gone."

"I see."

The Knight-Commander stepped away from the young lad, all at once the military authority that Cullen had come to know him as.

"We must spread out. Cover the grounds and Tower completely. If one of our own is danger, we must act quickly. Gillian, Tarim, you take the northern floor. Cullen, you take the grounds. She can't have gone far and by the Maker's blood we will find Ser Darrin before anything happens to him. First Enchanter, if you would be so kind as to assist with the help of some of your Seniors, we should hopefully find her swiftly. My belief is she will be in the Tower — bigger place to make a scene."

Cullen wasn't convinced, but he saluted and did as his Knight-Commander ordered. A rage demon in the Tower? It was unthinkable, and once they found Selena and Ser Darrin, he knew a full investigation would be launched. But the first thing was to get them — both of them — back safely.

As he jogged through the corridors, he couldn't escape the feeling that something about this entire situation was very wrong indeed.