alexmcdonald: Thanks! I really am doing my best to be a better writer each time I hunker down on this story. I'm so glad you're enjoying it. It's one thing to have all these views but it's a whole other ballpark altogether when someone leaves a review. Makes me feel I'm on the right track. :)
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Chapter 1: Knock, Knock... Anybody Home?
The takeoff bay looms and Flight Lt. Nikolai Valmont sets off even faster with his flying gear in tow. Soon enough the Griffin HAR2 helicopter dominates the landscape with the flight crew doing last minute check. Its striped red and white rotors spin in feverish speed, boosting the majestic machine to life. Wasting no time he puts on his riding gear and brushes up his blonde hair for the helmet, "What's the mission?"
His lead pilot pays him a quick glance and answers, "Radar picked up a disturbance in the Northern Frostbacks." Taking in his befuddled expression the man adds, "I know. Most of the mountains are still unchartered territory and who would haul advanced tech equipment that far up? They want us to do due diligence regardless."
"Right, let's do this quick and easy then," he replies as they board the cockpit, with the third officer, a paramedic, sitting at the back. They are airborne shortly after being granted flight credentials and coordinates. From his co-pilot seat he revels on the shimmering shores of the Waking Sea. The high noon sun makes for clear visibility, allowing for views as far as the coast of the Free Marches. If he squints, he swears he can even see Cumberland just beyond the mass that is the Planasene Forest.
As they leave Jader behind, the azure sea soon gives way to the pure, white slopes that mark the beginning of the Frostback Mountains. Even with the sealed off aircraft the shift in temperature starts to seep in, the cold enveloping. True enough they soon find themselves treated to 360 degrees of pristine tundra and jagged rocks. It's a delicate representation of how the blanket of snow masks the underlying danger of which the mountain range is notorious.
They're reaching close to an hour of flying amongst snowy peaks when the mountains open up to unveil a valley. The sun bathes it in golden rays and the gentle mountain slopes cradle it like a long-held secret. In its very belly, the glittering trail of a river lies enchanting and inviting, further highlighting its quiet beauty. Nikolai can't resist tracing where it winds up. Time-reality are suspended as he soaks up the visual feast. The serenity of the place embraces him, threatening to pull him deeper into a lulled sense of security. Right then and there he is transported in a way not even his shiny Griffin couldn't.
The river bends around the base of a great stone fortress, all the more imposing in its quietness. He spots a gravel path that winds up to an arched stone gate; a slender stone way leads it to a second blockade by the ramparts. With every second he grows awed by the structure that stands tall and mighty in the afternoon sun. Finally he speaks through his helmet's microphone piece, "I'm not one for ruins and such, but this one is right up there. But scientific expeditions? That would require a grand effort."
"I say let's survey the general area first before sending boots on the ground." His lead pilot's reply crackle through as they maneuver around the ruin's premises. The ancient ramparts are blackened all around. It leads out to what appears to be a fallen down arch bridge that must have served as a shortcut to the fortress. They gawk as a hole in what must be the great hall greets them as they complete the round.
Yet, the most surreal and out of place finding was waiting for them in the upper courtyard. A handful of tents flap forlorn in environs that had probably not been a camping choice for decades, if not longer. Much longer judging by the crumbling blacksmith and the exposed dual hearths. In the lower courtyard, he had to do a double take as a rundown barn unveils an honest-to-God van.
"Jader, confirming mission coordinates—over," Nikolai glances over the rest of the crew.
"Affirmative, Squadron 2. You have the go-ahead—over," the base gets back to them with instructions. All the while, the fast forming webs in his mind are further accelerated seeing the confused look on his fellow officers' faces. Sure, they had been to countless missions in the past two years but never has a deployment been shrouded in this much mystery.
And foreboding.
That's what's creeping up his spine, making his hair stand. This fortress has been built this high and completely out of place for a reason. The walls feel like they're keeping something contained more than keeping intruders out. All of a sudden, the out-of-this-world valley doesn't look too inviting anymore. If anything, the enclosure now feels more of a prison. A death hole of sorts to the unsuspecting and incautious.
Whatever has transpired here… I am sure nobody could have survived.
Slight panic is beginning to bud in his mind; flight or fight starting to battle over the other. The Griffin's rotors slice through the thick, heavy silence of the valley and he can feel his stomach swirling along. The scenic vista, instead of lessening the eeriness of the place only adds to its unsettling mystique.
Impeded by the random tents, they made their way to the lower courtyard just beside an age-worn circular keep. Their paramedic spots a side stairwell that can provide easy access inside. At least they won't have to brave through crumbling stone steps and halls that no doubt riddle the great hall.
Nikolai and the paramedic didn't waste time and immediately set up their MTS front display. Just as quick, a green dot comes alive, pointing them right in the heart of the keep. Their eyes remain alert as they keep track of where the disturbance is. As has been customary with their three-man crew, the lead pilot stays behind to man the running Griffin in case of a quick getaway. Efficiency and solid communication are at the premium—especially where they are right now. The place may be far removed but they still cannot discount potential hostile activities.
In no time they reach the top of the curving stairwell, the air getting chillier as they climb higher. They push the door open, bringing with it a smell of decay and abandonment reaching out from within. With every step he feels a shiver run up his spine.
This place is not used to having people.
They enter what appears to be a rundown kitchen with a large hearth at the other end. "Nods up," he signals and they both switch on their night vision goggles. Tablet-like MTS guide their way as they clear areas, hand guns at the ready.
When another room—a cellar, is also cleared, they move on to the caved in hall up ahead. Beams of sunlight trickle in straight from the great hall's roof up above. Still, there's a darkness to the place that cannot be erased. Shadows have settled and taken root, nurturing a sinister energy. As they go forward, it gets more difficult to move—from the debris or something else he does not know. He doesn't want to find out.
"Talk about spiking up the creep factor," the paramedic intones. Nikolai lets out a small laugh in agreement and adds, "And yet, it's perfectly calm. I doubt anyone would stay here for long."
Their attention is drawn to their jackets' MTS displays that are by now pulsing with activity. "We can't be far, then." Nikolai gestures for the paramedic to follow close behind as they approach a wall. Remains of two rock statues lay heaped on both ends. What greets them in the middle, however, increases the shock and creep factor tenfold.
"We have a person! Attempting first aid now!" The paramedic officer is down on his knees in a heartbeat. "Late 20's/Early 30's female, third degree burns on both hands, signs of trauma!" He proceeds to report via the radio perched on his left shoulder, "Damn it! We came too late! She—she didn't make it."
"It looks like something was ripped out of her hands." Nikolai bends over as he observes smoke sizzling out from both palms. Skinned, exposed, raw palms. He closes his eyes to offer a short prayer and to rid himself of potential nightmares. By now his stomach is in all sorts of loops, what with all the tension and suspense. The MTS isn't helping either as it provides a pronounced beat that his pulse has decided to follow. As the paramedic closes the woman's petrified eyes Nikolai stands straight, scanning the span of the hall. He's not even five steps away when the MTS goes off in a frenzy.
"If I'm being frank, I'm getting too creeped out by the erratic signals. It's best we already finish what we came here to do." The man intones and Nikolai can't say he disagrees. Keeping his shaking hands steady, he reaches for his radio to update the lead pilot. "Griffin, we'll be heading out for now with a body—over."
"Just confirming you've said a body—over." The static wafts through the dead, chilly air.
"Affirmative—over." He confirms as detached as possible, determined to keep his stomach from heaving. He turns toward the kitchen waiting for further instructions when a low groan emanates from somewhere in the wall. The two men startle, getting closer to listen in. All thoughts of safe evacuation went out the window as they see the rusty handle bars of a metal vault groan to life.
"We got movement!" Nikolai reports through the radio before zipping up the MTS to his chest. He gestures to the paramedic to clear out as he dashes behind one of the stone pillars along the hall. He spies the paramedic edging sideways to one of the statues, getting in a position to flank. In the most quiet way he can muster, he pulls out his handgun and secures it to his chest.
In the silence and darkness he waits, getting ready mentally for what is about to jump out of the shadows. He hears the slow creaking of the vault's door. It groans in protest, shaking off the heavy weight of many years' inactivity. The waiting game reaches its tense peak as the door finally hits the wall. After close to a minute, light footsteps disturb the heavy, dense air. One step after another, they grow ever more sure as they creep nearer. His heart rate picks up. Beads of sweat slide down the back of his neck as he wills himself to keep still, not even daring to breathe. He grips his handgun tighter just as the last of the footsteps fade.
Just then, a great light erupts, rendering them blind.
"Switch to thermal!" Nikolai shouts across the room. As soon as he recovered his vision he sees a woman standing in the rubble. He fires and disarms her of what looks like a tall walking stick seconds before his co-officer tackles her from behind.
Wasting no time he sets off a flare and tosses it into the vault. Red light washes over the confined space and pours out to the hall. Seeing that the woman is now in handcuffs, he sets out to clear the vault. His hand gun remains steady and sure as his eyes sweep over the vault's contents. Mountains of gold coins fill out the room. A bigger-than-life antique mirror rests by the far wall. Before the mirror are three women—dirty, bloodied, and focused on him with crazed eyes.
"Ma'am, please drop the sword and put your hands where I can see them," he warns the short haired woman to the left. Seeing her getting primed to attack he lets loose a shot. Its blast spreads through what the crew thought was a long-abandoned ruin.
"I suggest you proceed with great caution. Drop your sword—drop any weapons you have, the three of you, and put your hands where I can clearly see them." He repeats with more firmness this time. He keeps his focus on the three women now huddling in the middle of the room. Their arms go over their heads in surrender, eyes filled with terror and contained rage. He feels guilt wash over him.
Princes rescue damsels from lonely towers, not stupefy and terrorize them.
"Lieutenant, report—over." The static comes alive and his left hand reaches up to the radio to respond. With beady eyes he watches over them, his gun still ready to fire. "Situation contained. We found four women presumably middle aged inside a vault, armed. We're bringing them out now—over." He sets his left hand to join the right as he sees the redhead and the short haired one make eye contact. Well that can't ever be good.
"Hey! Eyes on me! Walk out the vault in single file still with your hands up in the air. This would be over and done with far more easily if you cooperate." He intones as he nods to the paramedic.
"Let's make sure each one of them is secure. Stick to the nods," he says, attempting to short hand, remaining with thermal vision. He is relieved when his co-officer follows his lead with the plastic handcuffs. Now is really not the best time to argue over being big, bad cops. As a search and rescue unit they're inclined to respond as non-combative as possible. But then, what can two of them do against four wild eyed, hostile captives? No, it's best they err on the side of safety. Plus, whoever has locked them in that vault might be on their way back. Griffin or no, the three of them would not be able to handle that sort of mess.
Nikolai leads the way back out as the paramedic covers the rear. He hears one of the women gasp as the light from the roof washes over the long-deprived area. "What damage they have wrought in so short a time!" A couple of stumbles here and there and they make it back the short way they came. Out of the pillared hallway, through the dank and rotten kitchen. Soon enough they are descending the curved side stairs back to their helicopter.
"You are out of your mind if you think I will go in to that!" Shorthair is incredulous. She takes in the sight of the aircraft as if planning to take down a dragon.
"Oh look, they have two." It's the redhead, her tone dripping with acid sarcasm. Nikolai looks up to follow her gaze and spots another chopper attempting to land not far from them.
"I've called out red alert the moment I saw three body bags in the van. Looks like I called the right thing with you mentioning a fourth one. And now, that. Who are those?" Their lead pilot chimes in from the cockpit, his voice crackling through their helmet.
"You wouldn't even believe if I told you point blank, Captain." It's the paramedic who answered, all the while flinching when the staffed woman he tackled glanced back to him with, legitimately, a look that can kill.
Nikolai lets out a sigh before taking off his vision goggles. Looking at the women he musters all the sincerity he can with his blue eyes. It's always worked in the past, so he fails to see why it wouldn't now. "Ma'am, please, we are not here to attack you nor take you to any harm. We were just sent here to investigate. Now, I implore you, allow us to help you," he looks every woman square in the eyes as he went. He could tell they had been through a lot. Well, imagine someone trapping you inside an ancient vault?
He's a bit surprised with the lack of response, with just the redhead deigning to sass back. "Oh? And we suppose we should take that to heart with our hands tied back?" The woman did a great job intimidating despite the handcuffs.
"Listen, miss. In case you've missed it, your friends started it!" He gives his paramedic an affirmative nod as the other man retorted. They were attacked first, after all.
"How should we know you were not there to attack us?!" Shorthair interjected, rearing forward with a snarl.
"How should we know there would be people inside an ancient vault?!" Nikolai exchanges incredulous looks with the paramedic as the man accepts Shorthair's challenge. At this point the third member of the crew has joined in on the fray along with two more officers from the second chopper.
Perhaps it's not only him, but there's something with these women that don't feel right. Like they could tear their eyes out and do it with a sweet smile. It makes him wonder whether the plastic handcuffs would even be enough. Him wondering about that in particular makes him swallow and grip his handgun a little more tight.
"Hey, no one here is out to get you. Take a look at the side of our chopper: SEARCH AND RESCUE." His lead pilot tries to defuse the tension, pointing to the block letters on the side of the Griffin.
"If it is true that you are here to help us, then where are you taking us?" It's the one in the yellow dress. Hazel eyes beseech him, full of anxiety and concern and he feels his eyes soften for the hapless woman.
"Our base is only about an hour's flight from here, in Jader. Please, let us take you there. It will be perfectly safe. You are safe with us," he emphasizes the last part. He hopes that he will get through to at least one of them. And it is just a matter of time, too, as he comes to terms with actually using sedatives to get them aboard.
What effect he hoped to have with his words has evaporated as he watches the four share alarmed looks. His co-officers seemed to have caught on as well, with the paramedic moving on to approach the group. There are no longer traces of the edge he has shown in the past few minutes, his first aid instincts winning out. "Can you tell us how you got inside the vault? Who has put you there?"
The one in yellow was about to answer when the one with the walking staff beat her to it, "We are still disconcerted. 'Twas quite the harrowing ordeal and I'm afraid my companions and I are still trying to cope." They watch her take in her surroundings, despair and panic haunt her face with every turn. Nikolai's a step away from the woman when he realizes the other two men have moved in as well.
"Someone has abducted you then?" His lead pilot pauses in his interrogation as they take in the panicked look in the woman's eyes. "It's alright. You're safe now. No one is going to get to you. You can tell us," the man persuades. He was about to reach for her shoulders when the second crew comes over with a body bag. The woman they found in the hall. Nikolai finds himself closing his eyes to rid of the flashback.
"We are taking this one along with ze others," one of them informs in thick Orlesian accent.
"Wait, you're not with us?" Nikolai presses as he takes on their uniform. It is distinctive of the Orlesian blue and yellow, in contrast to their dowdy camouflage.
"No. I suppose we learned of ze disturbance at the same time but since we are just based at ze foot of the Frostbacks, we arrived in shorter time. Two teams had already been here, flying out survivors. This is our third trip for ze casualties."
"Have you learned the cause?" It's their lead pilot this time.
"According to one of ze survivors, a huge explosion. They are still in great shock so more information should be ready in time. You should also start heading out. Clouds were forming on our way here. Best you avoid that on the way back to Jader. Enough accidents for one afternoon, oui?" The Orlesian SAR huff out the last parts on their way to their own chopper, with their lead pilot shouting out thanks.
"Jader, reporting an explosion accident. Judging by the equipment here, an academic expedition gone wrong. Also, four females were discovered inside a vault on location—over." His lead pilot wastes no time, turning his attention to the radio perched on his shoulder.
All of a sudden, the woman in yellow dress falls to the cold ground, her shoulder absorbing the impact. It was his lead pilot who got to her first, "Ma'am, are you alright?"
"Please, these are all just too much to hear." Nikolai felt his cheeks flush as he looks over the shivering woman.
"For the love of everything that's holy in this Earth, will somebody cut them loose?!" His lead pilot thunders.
Nikolai hopes his swallow was only audible to him as he starts with the shivering woman. "Please allow me to apologize, madams. The last thing we want is to have distressed you further," he directs to all four as he cuts the handcuffs loose. He feels himself shrink from his 6'4" frame as he weathers Shorthair's withering glare.
"We had better get it going, Lieutenant. The Orlesians are right, clouds are starting to move in," his lead pilot muses. The man's eyes remain upwards, observing the downcast sky. They move as one as they try to wrap up the rescue mission.
"We have warm blankets on board." Nikolai remarks as he strides to embark. "If you could please allow me to assist you aboard, we would be away from the elements and danger."
"Please follow the lieutenant aboard. There is more than enough space for everyone. You can rest assured that your travel will be in the hands of the best of the Royal Air Force." His lead pilot directs the last sentence to the redhead with the hawk-like, blue eyes.
It's quite the process, one that included Shorthair slapping his hands away one time too many. At last, Nikolai managed to get the four settled in, all tucked in with thick blankets. "Can you handle seatbelts and headsets?" He faces the paramedic who is occupying a folding seat in front of the four women.
"Roger that, Lieutenant!" The paramedic shouts through the engine noise, already reaching out for headsets.
He shuts the side door close on his way down and embarks to his usual seat upfront. "...the seatbelts are there for security, in case of turbulence. Now, you may not have mouth pieces but you can still hear when someone speaks. It's dual purpose that way. It cancels out the engine noise and enhances communication." He hears the paramedic in his brief overview as he fixes his own headset.
"Jader, this is Squadron 2. Mission accomplished—over." He reports back to base and checks for any potential difficulty along the route.
"Your report is acknowledged, Squadron 2. Navigation sees nothing on the horizon for you but better make a look out for turbulence along the way. Other than that, enjoy the sunset, boys—over." The three crew members laugh at the last part. No doubt they're looking forward to a very welcome ending to a most peculiar day.
"Roger, Jader. Over and out," his co-pilot remarks, with steady hands at the helm.
Leliana cannot believe that it's been this easy to lull the three men into a sense of false security. In as much as she and Morrigan have had nothing else to do but bicker through the years, she has to give the witch credit. What a masterful job. It seems she has not lost a step from her men luring days as a young girl in the Korcari Wilds. She bids her time as they're given blankets for the ride. Blankets. As if these fools could not have made it any easier for the Nightingale to go into subterfuge.
She shares a look with Cassandra. One that only holds any meaning between the two of them. It is one of the many things they have developed through the years of serving as the Right and Left Hands of the Divine. As soon as they are out of the perilous valley and mountain ranges, they strike. They must regroup with allies, however little are left. Somehow, they must find a way or Thedas will falter. She thinks back to what's become of Skyhold and cringes at the alternative.
Soon enough, snowy peaks give way to prairies and Leliana finds herself squaring her jaw. She grips the hilt of her sleeve dagger tight, not a care as she unsheathes it under the thick blanket. She gives Cassandra a sideways nod which is more than enough for the Right Hand. Not a second passes and they move as one, just like old times. Counterparts working together as a formidable unit. Cassandra leaps forward to the man sitting with them as she goes straight for the throat of the man in front of her.
"MAYDAY!" A voice wafts through the head gear given to her. It was the man who has led them out of Skyhold. She presses the dagger a little firmer and the effect is instant. The shouting stops, but not soon enough as the third man is alerted. He has just lost the vessel in a span of seconds. She was about to neutralize him when Morrigan enters her peripheral vision. Her fist is swift and sure, straight to the nose of the remaining unconstrained member of the group. To her dismay, he recovers after a beat and yanks the steering stick sideways.
She does not remember what happened but in the blink of an eye, Leliana finds herself tumbling on all sides. Upside-down, side to side. She crashes on her shoulders beside a horrified Josephine who is still buckled in. She narrows her eyes at Morrigan and shouts, "Do something!"
"Fool! 'Twould not do any good if we are all blown up! There is no room here and I for one will not add to the ruckus with a ricocheting ice spell!"
Finally the aerial acrobatics relent and Leliana twists sideways to evade an errant elbow. Frantic movements rule over the cramped space. Leliana scrambles as she looks for her dagger, ducking out of the way of punches and flung bodies. She sees Cassandra giving the man a head butt square on the nose as she dives for her weapon. Suddenly she feels the rush of strong air invading the metal chamber. Morrigan has melted the glass panel, leaving a large gaping hole in its stead. The apostate's attention remains on the side door as she tries to pry it open.
They are nearing the shores of Jader. They have no time left. They cannot have survived Skyhold only to fall into another quagmire of sorts. Leliana sees Cassandra dodge a kick and place a punch to the man's stomach with her discarded head gear. She was about to help Morrigan with the door when the vessel went into another roll amongst the clouds. From where she clings to one of the seats, she sees the third man crashing hard onto the other side door. She takes advantage and free falls to land at his back, allowing Cassandra to take hold of his weapon. The vessel swerves the other way and she finds herself landing on the back of the captain.
"Jader, reporting hostile activities aboard the Griffin. Requesting air support—over," relays the man with the broken nose. He wipes blood off with a grimace.
Leliana takes full advantage of the man's pre-occupation and lunges once again.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me!" The younger man half expected her this time and was able to dodge. "Do you have this, Captain?"
"Go! Give me enough time to get us to base, we're almost there! T minus 3!"
She fights to stand her ground as the younger man dove towards her from his seat. He crosses over to the back with one hand on hers and the dagger, the other catching her fist. They stumble for footing and land on the seats, the man on top, raising her hands overhead. She thrashes her legs and lands a couple of sharp kicks. The man continues to brave her assault, his blue eyes growing intense as they gaze upon her own.
"Can we please talk this through? I can only imagine it has not been an easy experience for you—all of you. I am willing to attribute this to shock. If you are willing to put your faith in me, then I will put my faith in you as well."
"Are you being serious right now?! She stepped on my throat!"
The young man cannot resist and gives the other man a quick side glare, which was all that Cassandra needed. The Right Hand seizes the young man from his back, pointing the weapon to his neck. By now Morrigan has managed to get the door to open, but it proves to have all been in vain. They pause as one as they feel the vessel descending. Time has run out on them. The great unknown starts to weigh heavy on her shoulders. She has failed to see them through. They had one chance and now the door has closed on them, leaving them amidst the darkness of what lies ahead. Now instead of freedom, what greets them is a wall of pointed weapons, the engine of the vessel dying down.
At this point the young man has let go of her hands, unmoving as Cassandra presses the weapon closer. Just then, the third man tackles Cassandra from behind. He dashes all the way out of the vessel, making the three of them and Morrigan tumble out into the open space. She catches Morrigan bracing for an attack when a booming voice dominated the air.
"MAKE ONE WRONG MOVE AND YOU WILL BE SUBJECTED TO THE MIGHT OF THE FERELDAN ARMED FORCES. DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND STEP AWAY FROM THE FUTURE KING OF FERELDEN."