All light had faded and it felt as if he were tumbling aimlessly into the depths of the inky abyss. He wondered if this was what death was, nothing for all eternity. Why did so many have faith in the Maker if there was no afterlife?
What's wrong with him? It sounded like Cassandra's voice, but he could see nothing.
The wound is not a physical one, it is magic, driven by the wraith's blade. Few people are skilled enough to handle this type of injury. It is a grievous wound, the doctor's voice answered.
Then… he will not make it? Cassandra breathed.
I did not say it was beyond my skill, Leona snapped. Words that Cullen had never heard the likes of began to lull him.
What words do you speak? I thought you claimed to be no mage.
I am not a mage, these are holy words, forgotten by those who had vendettas and used the Maker's name for their own vanity. Now don't interrupt me.
Cullen awoke some time later in his own bed. His upper body was nude and he wore a bandage tightly wrapped around the area of the wound. He recalled nothing of the journey back to Skyhold, but he did remember the voices of Cassandra and Leona. He moved to sit up, his breath stolen from him when he did. His shoulder seared as if a flame hid within his flesh. Groaning, he bowed his head down toward his legs, breathing laboriously.
The ladder to his loft groaned and peeking up over the floor was Cassandra. Noticing he was awake, the Seeker continued up.
"You're awake, thank the Maker," she breathed. "But you shouldn't be moving around. The doctor prescribed at least a few days bedrest after you woke up. You should be glad to be alive," the woman told him, easing him back into bed before he brows furrowed. "What were you thinking? I read the reports, you should have waited for Doctor Entwhistle to resurface."
"And let more innocent people die? I had to see what it was for myself, I underestimated its abilities," he grumbled.
"A whole patrol died, your lieutenant fortunately got you out of there before it could claim you too… It nearly did anyways."
"How did I survive?"
"We summoned the doctor. She knew once the monster was described and she saw your condition, just what had happened. It was a wraith, the spirit of a deceased mage who resorted to dark magicks. They're rare, according to the doctor, but they cannot be harmed by mortal blade, nor their wounds healed in typical ways."
"I thought I heard strange words… I heard some of your conversation," Cullen admitted.
"Yes, she claimed they are holy words that were given to chosen healers of the Maker. I've never heard of such a thing, but it worked. I've since then ran some tests on her, but she is not a mage. Perhaps it is possible that her powers are divine and if that is the case I wonder just who these Hunters are." Cassandra's face darkened at her words, deep contemplation furrowing her temple as she crossed her arms.
"Are you certain it wasn't a trick? That she didn't use some normal method of healing and it just appeared that the words did the trick?"
Cassandra scowled at him for his doubt. "Your symptoms stopped after she healed you… directly after she finished. I would not have believed it if not for seeing it with my own eyes."
Cullen sank back into thought and his lost men. Guilt swam over him for needlessly losing them. He should have waited, but had been too cocky. When did such arrogance take him over? Was it because they had defeated Corypheus and he believed nothing could rival him? Now he would have to inform families that they beloved soldiers were dead and due, in part, to his carelessness. Corypheus was defeated, he was losing too many men at this pace.
"And the plague?"
"No one has fallen ill since being administered the medicine. As for those infected… A handful were too far gone and the doctor ordered their immediate burning. The others… are getting better. None of them are going to be released until all signs of illness are gone, but according to her, since they have been exposed to the plague already they should not contract it again, something about immunity to the virus. I don't understand most of the rhetoric the doctor spits out at me, but she knows what she is talking about."
He nodded, placing his head against his pillow, dozing off.
It was evening before he awoke. He had the strength to get up and go down the ladder into his office. No one was there to keep watch on him, leading him to believe that their worry about his health had been sated for the time being.
He wanted answers that Cassandra had not been able to give him. He put on a shirt and threw his cloak about his shoulders before he went out of his toward and walked the ramparts to where the doctor dwelled.
There were dim lights flickering in the window and there was no longer a notice on the door claiming the area was quarantined. Cullen knocked.
"Come in," he opened the door and the strong stench of pine needles smacked him in the face. The office was cleaned pristinely and the scent was from some cleaning concoction that the doctor had created to sanitize her quarters. He did not see her immediately, closing the door behind him.
There was a flicker behind a changing shade and the trickling of water as he realized that the doctor had been taking a bath.
"I can-uh, come back at another time," he stammered.
"No need, I was done anyways," she dismissed. The candlelight illuminated her shadow as she stepped out of the tub and dried herself off. Cullen nearly forgot to avert his gaze, feeling as if he were intruding despite nothing being able to see anything other than a feminine shadow.
Leona came from around the shade with a silken robe on that reached down to the floor. Her hair was still damp, dripping slightly against her collar. Her stormy eyes showed her exhaustion plainly. "You shouldn't be out of bed," she chirped smartly.
Before he could say anything she came over to him, grabbing one of her tools. Her warm fingers touched his throat, feeling around for something. Once satisfied she put the stethoscope to her ears, finding the collar of Cullen's shirt and without much hesitation she swung her hand under and placed the cold metal against his skin.
Cullen was bewildered that the woman seemed to have no shame. In conjunction with her underdressed and he not wearing his armor, he found that both of them were unprofessionally garbed, probably due to the hour.
Moving the metal away Leona glanced up. She walked away, carefully placing her stethoscope on her desk before she pulled the chair out with a screech.
"Sit down," she ordered.
Cullen didn't argue with her and for the first time in a while, took an order from someone who was not the Inquisitor.
Leona retrieved a cloth to pat at her dripping hair. "What do you want to know?"
"What makes you think that I want to know something?" he asked automatically.
Leona arched a brow at him, not bothering to answer his question.
Cullen chuckled in spite of himself, glancing down at his hands as he relaxed into the chair, glad it was there. "I suppose I ought to thank you for your work. Without you I would have certainly died."
Throwing the cloth over the shade the doctor returned to lean up against her desk. "All in a day's work, Commander. That's what I do… save lives." Despite her nonchalant tone of voice, there was a bit of cynicism toward the end of her sentence.
"It's more than that, this wasn't that science you bragged about your first day here. Cassandra… she described it as something else, magic but not magic? And I heard you, I might not have been looking at you. But I heard the words you spoke."
Leona moved a piece of damp hair from her face and sighed as she edged on the desk to fully sit on it. Her silken robe clung to her frame which was surprisingly athletic. The thin material left little to the imagination and Cullen pursed his lips when he realized he was staring. The only thing that really slipped into his mind was how slender she was and what a thin chest she had.
"That… was not supposed to happen," she grumbled, breaking the aloof character she had presented herself as thus far. Her eyes swept over to him, a dark maelstrom, considering him for a time. "What we are… what I am was not intended to be revealed until we could fully trust the Inquisition with the knowledge. However, it seems that you forced our hand when I had to heal you."
"So it was magic?" he pressed.
"Of its own kind. You are not born with it, you are chosen to possess it by the Maker. Thus, this does not make us mages. It is a divine gift."
"I've heard mages who claim the same thing of their magic."
Leona sighed, pressing her hand to her temple as she contemplated how she would explain this. "It is not an easy task to explain this to you, because I have to go back far in history for any of it to even make sense."
"Take your time, I've got all night," Cullen shrugged.
"You of all people should be sleeping. But if I'm going to explain this to any of the Inquisition leaders, I'd prefer it to be you," she muttered. "The Order of Hunters is not the Order of Hunters. We refer to ourselves as that now because it is convenient. We actually are an ancient holy order who answers to only the Maker and his bride Andraste.
"Returning to the birth of our religion and its growth there were two sides to the Templar Order. One who was devout to the Chantry and the other that wished to be completely separate, but still work with the Chantry. The reason was due to political influence. Some templars thought that the Chantry would sway to whoever was in power and they wanted to govern themselves.
"Some of the most devout claimed to be given powers by the Maker and of course, the Chantry did not like this. At this time lyrium was being introduced to templars, so that the Chantry could develop a stronger hold on the order. In reaction to this, several left and they formed a secret order that would answer to anyone other than those within the order, since they did not need lyrium to use their gifts. Their purpose was only to serve the Maker and in response, he gave those who proved themselves with the powers of a paladin, a holy knight, or a cleric, a holy healer.
"As I stated, these powers are not magic or connected to the Fade. The power comes from faith in the maker as well as devotion.
"We have always existed in the shadows, tracking dangerous apostates or slaying demons. Of course, our range increased with time and soon enough we learned of the Eluvians. The entire order vanished into them and to where some would call the twisted lands beyond the sea. It was there that the Order met the monsters that are appearing in Thedas. It is there that we learned how to hone our gifts to destroy them.
"The battle against Corypheus was not ours to fight, but we did what we could. We destroyed demons, but due to the Inquisitor being claimed as the Herald of Andraste…. Many of the order members were vexed that the Maker had not chosen one of us and others called the Inquisitor's title as Herald as blasphemy. Since we were so divided on whether or not we should help, we did not. At least, not as largely as we could have.
"But now… the appearance of all these monsters from the other lands… We don't know where they're coming from, but they're coming, and you can see from the ones you met and the one you just met, you have no idea what they're capable of or what you're facing. Finally, we have stepped out of the shadows to combat this threat. We've decided to ally ourselves with the Inquisition because of your political neutrality and because all of Thedas has faith in you, due to your previous accomplishments…"
Cullen drew a breath as she finished and considered what she had told him. "If you have these powers, did you use them to heal those with the plague? Curing a plague is unheard of…"
"No," Leona admitted. "I-I cannot rely on my divine gifts for everything. It is something I can only use in the most dire of needs because the cost of using it is too great."
"The cost of using it?"
"Within the last decade anyone with these gifts has been having issues using them. It truly started with the last blight and since then, using our powers has a trade off. Healing powers require so much energy that I cannot heal more than one person at a time. Healing you put me out of commission for two days."
"How is it a gift if you can barely use it?"
"It wasn't always like this. When I discovered my gift I could heal people and creatures without wasting much energy. Since then my power has only dwindled and become more difficult to use. I reserve it now for emergencies I cannot fix with my skills, such as your wound from the wraith."
Cullen nodded. "Your Order sounds a bit too good to be true. I do wish that they had been the ones to win the fight against the Chantry rather than the Templar Order," he replied, considering his own time in the templar order, wondering what it would have been like if he had never been introduced to lyrium.
"Yes… the Maker works in mysterious ways," she said in a quiet and faraway voice. Cullen glanced up to look at her and noticed the exhaustion sagging in her shoulders and the vacant stare in her eyes.
"How are you holding up, after working with the infected?" he asked, shifting the conversation away.
She turned her head back toward him. "Ground thin," she sighed. "I barely got any rest during my time down there and when I was summoned up here to help you… well, it nearly drained me completely. I am recuperating still, but the wraith needs to be handled before more innocent people are killed and I fear I am the closest of my Order who can be dispatched to destroy it. So you can see, I've got quite a bit on my plate and little time to chew it."
"If you wait a few days I will join you," he offered.
"Are you that eager to be sent back to the sick bed?" she quipped.
"Oh, I figured with you and your amazing 'gifts' that I would be safe," he grinned wearily.
Leona smirked at him before standing up. "I suppose you'll learn if you come along, but you need to rest more or I will not take you."
"I have to go to make certain you'll be safe. After all you are a doctor, you're quite a priceless ally."
"Fine, fine, you can be my torch-boy."
"Torch-boy," Cullen snorted.
"You'd just be an easy target otherwise. Wraiths hate light and fire, a proper torch will be a sufficient weapon."
"You make it sound like such a trivial task."
"It is," she grinned. "Or you could stay here and do more paperwork. But having you as a witness means that the Inquisition shall be certain it is defeated. Also, I could teach you the weaknesses of any beasts that appear."
"And then I could teach my men about the creatures."
"Yes, the ones you can combat. You will need a specialist with proper equipment for beings like a wraith," the doctor sidled over to her work table and opened one of the pine cupboards, pulling out a few different herbs. "Fortunately, not many like it exist, it is just unfortunate that one appeared so close."
While she worked to make some sort of formula, the doctor hummed a familiar tune to herself. She turned around and offered it to Cullen.
"This is milk of poppy, it has some added pain reducers for your shoulder. It will help you sleep tonight. Tomorrow have a hearty breakfast and begin building your strength again. If you are well enough in three day's time, I shall take you with me to dispose of the wraith."
Cullen accepted the small flask. "Thank you," he said as he stood, brushing Leona lightly. Her closeness made the commander flush, but the dim candlelight of her office hid it. "I will return to my tower for the evening. Thank you for answering my questions."
Leona rolled her shoulders with mock disdain, her eyes cast aside, but rather than nonchalance, he noticed the deep thought that possessed her. "Yes… Rest well, Cullen. Please, actually listen to my orders and prescriptions for once," she looked up at him for a lingering moment before closing her eyes, stepping back and escorting him to the door.
Cullen slowly returned to his room, pausing on the ramparts to stare out into the immense expanse and sky that the keep so serendipitously offered. His fingers tightened around the flask as he thought of the exchange between he and Leona. So much information had been thrown at him, he would have to write a report eventually so that the other leaders of the Inquisition could be brought up to speed. He found reports were a better way of explaining what he learned than repeating it, he often fumbled with his train of thought if it weren't written out.
The song Leona had been humming was stuck in his head.
Sometimes, just being from the same place it all it takes.