Chapter 6
Well, he took that better than I expected.
Speak for yourself. Did you see what that thing ate? Did you? Did you? I'll never live that down. Ever.
Well then, luckily for you you're already dead then, eh?
The second speaker shot a glare at the first speaker with enough velocity to spark a sonic boom that thundered about the misty landscape.
That counts as sarcasm, I suppose?
You do remember I hope, that this is not all about you? Games are afoot-
Afeet.
Whut?
Feet. Seeing as you have, well technically, more than one. So it's not 'a foot', but feet.
You're just not getting it are you?
A sigh, like a gale-force wind swirled grit and dust into a mini cyclone about the two speakers. Just…carry on.
I will. Forces are moving-
…mutter…mutter…honestly, I don't know why I bother sometimes.
-the pieces are set.
…no appreciation. Is that so much to ask? Mutter…mutter…really?
-the times, they are a'changing…
…work hard, day in day out and what do I get? Mutter…mutter…mutter.
Are you just going to keep interrupting me? Do you want to do this? Is this what this is all about? Because I'm quite happy to hand this over to you. Just say the word. It's not all on me you know. I'm not the only one who can do this.
What, you mean the self-important monologuing and so forth?
Or are you just upset because I gave the Mage that particular power?
What, the griffon?
Gryphon.
There's just no pleasing you is there?
There was more than a hint of a rolled yellow eye; an exasperated sniff with the power to inhale entire continents then: Where was I? Oh yes. I was about to say I think these gels need a bit of a push. They seem to be taking a long time to get off that mountain.
Well, they have been slowed down by the other three.
The little one's kinda sweet in an 'I'll stick an axe in your face if you look at me funny, so help me' way.
Dwarves eh? There was a pause, the length of tectonic plates shifting and colliding together to create a new mountain range, except here, time being mostly immaterial, it equated to a mere two blinks of a reptilianish eye. You're thinking of bringing the mountain to Andraste?
If Andraste won't come to the mountain? The speaker's brow ridge curved upwards sardonically. You know what she's like. Make her slightly immortal and it's all airs and graces and 'oh don't speak to me like that, I'm a God Ess. Bow before me puny mortal and watch where you're putting that flambeau'. I mean how's that for believing your own publicity machine, eh? And then…as you please, blame her marriage break up on us. Huh! Wasn't us that marched an entire army against her was it? Amateur!
That wasn't my point. My point is; I think we need to bring someone else in. Three mages – even Amells - no matter how powerful might not be able to…cope.
Oh. Ungod…No. You aren't thinking what I'm thinking. Not…Him.
Well, it's not like he isn't already there.
And hasn't spoken to us. Not since…
Now, now, it wasn't his fault. And besides…I think it would be rather amusing, wouldn't you?
No. Maybe. Yes. Alright, so it would be. Fine. Fine. But if the Knight Commander's head explodes, I'm not cleaning up.
Which one?
The cute one.
Oh, you and your weird beard fetishes. No. No one's head is going to explode.
The other speaker threw an expectant look towards its compatriot.
Much...
Ah.
-oo-
Bridge guard duty. Again. Ser Carroll's jaw jutted despondently as he viewed the stretch of time that lay before him. Hours it would be. It was always the same. Perhaps it was because the Knight Commander thought he could do his 'halt, who goes there' better than anyone else at the Tower. He was very good at it. It was all about the cadences; the right emphasis at the right time. None of this 'halt who goes there?' business, as though the person saying it didn't know and had to ask. The way he did it was: 'Halt! Who goes there!' See? No questions asked. It was all about taking charge. No one allowed in or out. That was the way. Yes sir. Firm. That was him.
He kept people out. He was good at keeping people out. Folk generally kept their distance when he was on Stop Duty. They might mutter and complain and offer cookies but no. No one got in or out. That was policy. The Knight Commander depended on him. There was that one time when the Wardens got in, but that had been none of his fault. Sneaky. That was what those Grey Wardens had been. Sneaky Wardens, never mind being grey. He didn't remember any of them being grey. One had been yellow and the other had been some other colour that wasn't grey but that was all part of being a Sneaky Warden. The name didn't fit but anyway, the Knight Commander had told him it was all right and tight. No hard feelings there and put him back on Stop and Halt Duty.
Clearly, he'd been recognised.
"Ouch…" His shoulders shaking under his pauldrons, Ser Carroll extended a toe and nudged the…things away. If they got too close they burned cold; the little floaty, glowing things. They were everywhere, but there always seemed to be more of them inside the Tower than out which was why he was glad to be Outside. Sometimes they talked to him. He didn't know what they said. He didn't speak Floaty Glowy so…"Ouch, hey!"
They were a bit restless today and he wondered why. Ser Carroll had told the Knight Commander about the floaty glowy things once, but old Iron Pot – as the lads referred to KC Greagoir – had only stared at him then asked him whether he'd taken his lyrium that morning. Well, he had. Ser Carroll knew if he didn't take his lyrium the floaty glowy things got angry. When they got angry, they burned even more; the way they did when the mages took them out of the Fade and ripped them apart to power their spells. Well, Ser Carroll couldn't blame the floaty glowy things for that. That sort of thing would hurt wouldn't it? It would hurt lots.
A sudden gust of wind swept his hair sideways. Ser Carroll looked up.
"Now that's what I call a big floaty glowy thing," he nodded approvingly. Trailing sparks in its wake, Ser Carroll's massive floaty glowy thing glided over the tree tops. Soon, the forest beside Lake Calenhad was ablaze with warm red light. Almost like a fire.
"For the love of the Maker, son! Get into the lake!"
It was old Kester. Good old Kester; ever ready for a shared pint and a bit of a whinge about the First Enchanter.
"The lake?" Ser Carroll held up an armoured hand. "No one gets in or out," he reminded the boatman. "Knight Commander's orders."
"Are you mad?" Kester gesticulated wildly at the forest behind them. "Stay here and you'll burn to death!"
"Oh?" Ser Carroll's face brightened. "You can see the little floaty glowy things too?"
"I'm not staying here to argue!" Kester told him. "I don't know what them mages is doing up at the Tower and Maker help me, I don't care but I'm not staying around to find out! Not since the last time!"
"No one gets in or out," Ser Carroll repeated. "It's the Knight Commander's orders."
"Gah!" With a dismissive wave of his hand, the elderly boatman stalked further up the lake shore, wading ankle-deep into the water. Ser Carroll watched him, shaking his head for a couple of minutes before returning to his Duty. A duty that was interrupted yet again by a loud thud and the sound of ruffling feathers and claws raking the pebbles.
Ser Carroll folded his arms – as best as one clad in heavy armour could – and glared at the newcomers. "No one gets in or out," he recited. "Knight Commander's ord…Oh," he narrowed his eyes distrustfully when he recognised one of them…and wasn't he the King now? What was he doing here? You'd think being King, a person would mend his ways and do a day's honest work, not hang around with…His eyes narrowed further. Mages.
"It's you. Think you're getting in again are you?"
"What the…?"
"Caw!"
"Oh for the love of…" Carroll noted the tallest mage he'd seen that day roll her eyes. "Is that Ser Carroll? The bane of my existence, that man is. Thought he got shipped off to the Denerim Home for Worrisome Templars."
"Not here," a smaller-than-the-tallest-mage-he'd-seen-that-day – who looked familiar – grimace. "Here they still let him carry a sword."
"With the numbers of Templars depleted, every able-bodied man is needed." Ah, Carroll thought. There's the voice of reason. Now hang on…is he a Templar? He had the Maker's sunflower on his armour like one.
"Well that's my point, isn't it?" The tallest mage pointed out. "'Able-bodied', my Aunt's elasticated knickers…"
"Do you want me to remove his knees?" And a dwarf too? What was one of them doing here? As the conversation continued to bump against him, Carroll decided enough was enough and it was time to lay down the law.
"I know what you're up to," He interrupted. He was in charge of the docks. The Knight Commander said so and the law was about to be laid. Right now. "Don't even bother to offer me cookies because I've already eaten. I'm incorruptible."
"Well, how about if you gave us the cookies instead?"
"Caw!"
"No dice!" Ser Carroll told the one who was clearly a Sneaky Warden. "And could you please tell your giant bird to stop soiling the Spoiled Princess? Look at that! Pissed all over their front door. How'd you like it if you had to step in a puddle of piss if you wanted to have a bit of a tipple, eh?"
The Sneaky Warden rolled his eyes. "Fine. Merran…please don't wee on the local architecture."
"Caw…"
"Mind…" the dwarf person said. "Makes going down to the pub for a bit of a piss-up a bit literal, doesn't it?"
"Listen…Ser Carroll…"
Ser Carroll noticed the uniform again and this time his spine straightened ever so slightly.
"Knight Commander Greagoir put you in charge and you're doing a fine job of it, but we do have permission to proceed."
Ser Carroll's eyes narrowed. This one was dressed like a fellow Templar true and a senior one at that but it could be all a hoax couldn't it? On the other hand, he did seem familiar, as did the not-the-tallest-mage glaring at him. She was dressed sort of like a Senior Enchanter, but wearing leg tubes; those modern things that female mages liked to wear when they thought Templars weren't watching, but Ser Carroll was watching. Oh yes.
"And who do you think you are?" he asked, because those were the rules and he needed to report back to Old Iron Pot later.
"I am Knight Commander Cullen," the Templar told him. "Do you not remember? We have orders from the…from Knight Commander Greagoir to return to the Circle as soon as possible. I've been given no word those instructions have changed."
"Of course I do," Ser Carroll snapped. "What do you think I am? Stupid?"
"Oh I hope that's not a rhetorical question."
"Can I kill him now?"
"Caw…"
A glowy floaty thing bumped against his nose, sighing at him. It seemed to tell him these people shouldn't be here. They should be somewhere else. Like say…locked up in the Circle Tower, so instead of repeating the official line he lifted his chin and shot them a stern glare.
"Go on then," He stepped to the side stiffly. "I have better things to do than stand around all day lollygagging with you lot anyhow."
"Yeah, we'd hate to stand in the way of you burning to death."
"How about now?"
"Uh…Thank you Ser Carroll," the person dressed as a Templar and claiming to be a Knight Commander saluted him. Huh. Just like a real Templar. Or something. "You're doing a fine job. I shall be sure to mention your service to the Knight Commander."
"You totally take all the fun out of life, Cullen…"
"How about a teeny, tiny decapitation? Just a little bit?"
And then they were gone. Just like that. Ser Carroll didn't bother following their progress as he had with Kester. It wasn't worth the energy. The little glowy things were tugging at his attention. They were trying to tell him something else now, his freckled forehead creasing and un-creasing as he tried to figure out what they were trying to tell him.
A glowing yellow and black ember landed on the back of his hand, fizzing softly on the cold armour before going out. Resuming the stance he gazed back up at the forest on the edge of the Lake Calenhad docks, his brow wrinkling again. Well, will you look at that, he thought distractedly. Forest fire. You don't see one of those every day. Wonder what caused it?
He didn't receive an answer. The floaty glowy things surrounded him, no doubt escaping the Circle and its new visitors. He didn't mind. They kept him company and didn't shout at him too much out here.
His cheeks felt warm. He held out his hands towards the fire; warming them, the little glowy floaty things sticking to his armour. They were cool and smelled like magic but that was okay too. If they were magicky out here they weren't being abused by the Mages up in the Tower.
"Oh…hang on a mo…" Carroll frowned suddenly. A flaming pine tree cracked, splintered and came toppling down the hill towards him, spinning sparks and flame.
And then his world went white.
-oo-