Part 15
Explosions
As Astlyr stood and ran for the stairs she heard Fen'Harel do the same behind her, letting out a string of elvish words which she guessed to be swearing. She burst out of the passage and into the frigid wind of the night. A gasp escaped her lips as she took in the source of the explosion she had heard. Flames burst from the second floor windows of the mage tower. She heard the horrible sound of buckling stone as a chunk fell off the tower and smashed to earth, nearly flattening a retreating guard. People were already appearing all around, staring agape at the horrifying scene.
"People are inside!" Cole had appeared beside Astlyr, his words cutting into her as deeply as any knife could have. Spurring her from her seconds of baffled stupor.
She swore loudly and profusely, charging towards the tower. To her right she spotted Varric, who was already forming people into a bucket line from the well to try to put out the fire, which was obviously tearing through the inside of the tower. Some mages had appeared, sleep ruffled and bleary eyed, and were directing ice and water spells. One of them shouted to Astlyr as she ran past, "It's magical fire! Be careful!"
Smoke erupted from shattered windows. The courtyard was lit with an eery red glow like a terrible dawn. Astlyr snarled, eying the tower and wondering the best way to get inside. Then she spied Cullen. He was just standing there, head tilted back, gaping at the destruction in progress. She shouted to him, but he didn't move. He gave no sign that he had heard her at all. She ran to him, grasping his shoulder "Cullen!"
The man jerking his arm from her grip, turned, and ran the other way. She watched him go with confusion and anger mingling in her mind. What was he doing? Did he care so little for the mages? Another blast of magical fire vomited forth from the tower and even at that distance Astlyr could feel its heat. She grimaced, turning back to the task at hand. "We have to get the survivors out!"
Cole appeared at her side. "I know where the survivors are!" he said, "but we must hurry! They can't breathe!"
"Varric, bring that water bucket here!" Astlyr called to her friend.
The dwarf rushed over, sloshing icy water as he ran. Astlyr tore a piece of her tunic and soaked it in the water, then she tied it over Cole's nose and mouth, "I have no idea what smoke inhalation would do to you, but I don't want to find out." She tore another strip for herself.
Then she turned her face back to the inferno looming before them and water soaked rags seemed painfully inadequate. "We're with you!" two mages ran up and Astlyr felt a flood of relief as she recognized Vivienne and Dorian.
"You're sure you're up for this?" Astlyr questioned Dorian as they charged towards the tower following Cole.
"I'm always up for saving the day!" Dorian shouted over the sound of flames, spells and shuddering stones.
They managed to get into the tower without much difficulty, however, by the second floor it was evident how difficult their climb would be. Magical flames clawed at them and smoke invaded their lungs. Vivienne lifted a fallen support beam out of their path, her pale blue magic flashing bright in the red glow. Another distant bang rocked the tower. Astlyr felt the vibration in her whole body. "What the hell is going on?!" she roared.
"Some sort of magical attack would be my guess," Dorian shouted back, narrowly dodging a gout of flame that erupted from a room they passed. He turned and blasted the room with ice, the chill of it feeling refreshing on Astlyr's sweaty face before it quickly faded. She could sense the prickling cool of Vivienne's magical shield around herself, and could make it out, glowing faintly, around her two companions. She hoped Viv was also protecting Cole. The boy appeared before them, then ran ahead, teleporting back for report what to expect on the way ahead.
"This way," Cole called, guiding then up another set of tight, spiraling stairs. "They're on the next floor. Hurry!"
Astlyr rushed to follow the boy. The smoke was thick now, and she was glad of Vivienne's magic. Without it she suspected she would have been unable to breath at all. Even with it she felt the smoke attacking her lungs with each breath. A stabbing pain was beginning in her chest and she ignored it, forging onward though the heat and devastation.
The surviving mages they sought were holed up in one of the class rooms. One of them, an older woman, had produced a protective bubble over the teenage mages in her charge. They cowered, some of them clearly injured, beneath the barrier. When they saw the Inquisitor and her party some of them actually cheered. "We weren't certain anyone was coming," one of the young mages said.
"I didn't dare leave my students to find out if the path down was safe," the teacher explained, her arms outstretched as she continued to produce the barrier. "They're inexperienced with protective magics."
"Do you know what happened here?" Dorian asked. He stepped forward, adding his own magic to the bubble, taking the burden from its original caster.
"No," the older woman coughed. "I was supervising their late study when we heard the explosions. I thought we were dead for certain!"
"It's alright, we'll get you out!" Astlyr reassured them in her commanding voice, which seemed to have the desired effect of imbuing the mages with some confidence. They stood, supporting their wounded.
A young man got her attention, "There were more of us. My sister and two others went to the library to fetch some more research materials. Can you find them, Inquisitor?"
Astlyr turned to Cole, who was standing at her side, watching over the rescue with a practiced eye. He tilted his chin up towards her and for once had the good sense not to speak loudly, "I don't sense them," he said. His voice was tight, pained, but she knew he was more focused on those he could help.
"Then they're dead?" she asked in as hushed a voice as she could muster without coughing.
"Yes," the boy nodded, his hat flopped. Then he rushed forward to help a woman who was having trouble standing. He threw her arm over his slender shoulder as the group headed for the door.
"We have two flights of stairs to get down," Vivienne told the group. Her own magic was added to Dorian's expanding the magical barrier the elderly mage had created to cover the group. A hunk of stone fell from above them and smashed to pieces on the barrier. Astlyr saw Dorian and Viv flinch, but their magic did not faulter.
"What about my sister?" asked the young man, desperately.
"Cole, is there any chance?" she turned to the boy, who was helping the mage limp along.
"They could be unconscious," Cole said, "though I can usually still sense people when they are."
"I'll go see if I can find them," Astlyr said, knowing that the young man would need closure. To know for certain that his sibling and friends could not have been helped. "Viv, will you go with me? Dorian, can you get these people out?"
The tevinter mage turned and met her eyes with his dark ones for a moment, searching her face. He knew he was being sent out because of his wounds, but at the same time he could not fault her logic. He was more likely to lose strength, and Astlyr's keenly tactical mind knew it. This was like a battle and she thrived in battle. He gave her a curt nod, taking over the brunt of the barrier magic as Vivienne stepped away to join Astlyr.
Cole handed off his charge to another mage and moved to accompany the two women. Astlyr momentarily wondered at this. Normally the spirit boy would have helped Dorian and the others flee the tower. Logically choosing to help those he knew that he could. Instead he was going to go with her to find what were almost certainly people he had no way of aiding. He said nothing as he took up position beside them.
"Take care, M'gel!" Dorian called, using the fond pet name he had for Astlyr.
"I always do," she reassured her dear friend. She didn't need Cole to tell her that it hurt Dorian to leave her. Astlyr turned to Vivienne. "What's the best way to the library?"
"This way," the tall woman led, her magic flaring and coiling around them. Vivienne was a truly powerful magic user, one of the best Astlyr had ever met. With uncanny skill Viv deflected a falling beam, and shot a shower of ice to prevent a plume of flame form scorching Astlyr's arm. Vivienne's hands moved like a blur as she cast and recast, keeping a magical barrier wrapped snugly around herself and her friends as they went.
The library, when the found it, was almost completely blasted away. What was left of the room was open to the air, and few lonesome pages were caught on jagged bits of stone, fluttering in the icy breeze. If anyone had been inside the room, they would have been killed at once. "Is the route we took the one they would have used?" Astlyr questioned her mage friend.
"It is likely," Vivienne nodded. "It was the fastest way. I cannot think why they would take a different path."
Another explosion rocked the structure. Yet more of the wall fell away and Astlyr had to stumble back to avoid losing her footing and tumbling to the rubble below. She felt Cole grab her tunic to help her. "We need to leave. Now!" Astlyr barked, turning away from the sorry sight of what remained of the library. Dorian would weep at the loss of so many books. Some of them rare, Astlyr thought to herself as they made their way back. Part of the stair was gone too and they had to make a jump. Cole, of course, merely teleported. Astlyr noted that once again he chose to stay with them, rather than leaving the tower to see to the wounded. She imagined he could sense that the healers were already taking good care of them.
"Cole, do one more sweep. See if you can sense anyone else," she ordered as the rushed through another hallway, narrowly avoiding where a hunk of wall buckled in and almost struck them. They had nearly reached the exit.
The boy nodded, was quiet for a moment as he reached out with his mind, then shook his head. "I don't sense anyone else inside."
Astlyr and her friends burst from the charred doors of the tower onto Skyhold's open courtyard. Astlyr blinked in the dimness. Had everyone in the fortress turned out? Most were doing their best to help, though some merely stood back, mouths agape, staring at the funeral pyre which had been Skyhold's college of magic only that day.
Cassandra rushed to meet them, her face already sooty. She had obviously been helping coordinate the mages and those who formed the bucket line, who were attempting, to some avail, to put out the flames and to douse nearby structures with water lest the fire spread. Astlyr tugged the rag from her nose and mouth, greeting her friend with a nod, "I think we got all the survivors out," she reported.
"Andraste save us," muttered the warrior woman, more to herself than anyone. "What happened?"
"A magical attack, it would seem," Vivienne supplied, tugging the rag she wore away from her own face. "Very powerful and clearly clearly effective. It would have taken some time and no little effort to lay down so many explosive wards. I suspect multiple mages may have been involved."
"But who would-" Cassandra began when there was another explosion and everyone in the courtyard gasped in unison. Astlyr turned and her own mouth fell open in horror. The topmost floors of the tower were leaning, breaking free from the rest of the structure. If they fell they would smash a sizable chunk out of the side of Skyhold. Astlyr couldn't even find it in herself to swear. There was no way to stop it, certainly. Was there anyone still in the part of the fortress it threatened? If there was she knew she did not have time to save them.
The mages rushed forward. Those with power over earth and stone forming a line, magic surging from their hands and staves. Their joint powers coiled around the toppling upper tower. Even with their efforts it looked fit to fall. Astlyr acted instinctively. She ripped her glove free of her left hand, then reached out. She felt her fingers press into the veil as thought it were a thin fabric before her. She sank her fingers in, then jerked her arm back, tearing open the Fade. A rift, looming ominous and green, gaped ready to catch the falling chunk of tower. Astlyr silently apologized to whatever Fade creatures she might damage when a large hunk of a building tumbled into their world. She couldn't let the tower fall and take out part of her home.
The watchers all gasped and Astlyr heard astounded shouts of awe over the rift and the woman who had opened it as easily as one might open a letter. She tried not to think about it as several smaller wall segments fell, vanishing into the Fade before they hit the ground.
Suddenly Fen'Harel appeared. He snatched Dorian's staff from his hands and joined the line of other mages. His own magic adding to theirs with a great flash of power that impressed even Vivienne, who made a sound of surprise and raised her eyebrows. With the addition of Fen's magic the earth mages began to pull falling stones back into place. Shoring up the shattered walls as best they could from their position on the ground. Together they patched the damage and eased the leaning sections upright again until they had the tower settled back into one structure again.
This accomplished the mages fell away. Some dropped to hands and knees in exhaustion. Astlyr gave an expert twist of her wrist and arm, feeling the familiar pulling pain that surged to her elbow, then up to her shoulder. The rift before her snapped shut like a jaw. The green light that had illuminated the crowded courtyard was gone in an instant, leaving them all feeling slightly blind.
She rushed to congratulate the mages on their task, even as the ice mages moved forward again to put out more fires. The qunari strode through the group, patting backs and offering words of thanks. She gently helped a panting man to his feet, his hand clasped tight around hers, he looked happily into her eyes. "Glad I could help, ma'am."
Healers appeared with lyrium potions and Astlyr sought out Fen'Harel. He stood amidst the others. He had dropped Dorian's staff and leaned forward, hand resting on his knees as he tried to collect his breath. As she neared him he looked up, triumph on his sweat streaked features. "Thank you, Fen," Astlyr said, extending a hand to him.
"That was an impressive rift, Astlyr, and a clever idea. I sometimes forget how well you think on your feet." He took her offered hand, leaning against her for support as he panted. "I'm sorry I used a staff," he said between huffs of air. "I would not have been able to give my full power to the task without it."
"I think I will let it slide this once," Astlyr reassured the elf. "Though I imagine Dorian wants it back."
Fen'Harel laughed, his eyes bright with victory. Astlyr knew that look. She had seen it on Solas' face often enough. A wolf who thought himself very clever indeed. She allowed him his moment, smiling back. Myfanwy darted up, obviously pleased to see that her god was unharmed. Astlyr passed Fen's hands to the waiting woman, then moved on to help where she could.
The explosion which had nearly, permanently separated the top of the tower from its base seemed to have been the final one. Astlyr worked tirelessly in the bucket line, accompanied by the chargers, Varric and Cassandra.
Astlyr was bone weary when they finally set down their work. The tower was still smoking, but the fires appeared to be out. None had spread to the other buildings. She heard people muttering thanks to the maker and Andraste. Whoever there was to thank, Astlyr felt immensely pleased to let her bucket fall from her stiff fingers.
She looked over her fellow workers. It still seemed that all of Skyhold was there, faces dirty and weary. The mages looked rough. Some flopped down in what snow remained and lay there. The healers rushed to and fro passing out lyrium and encouragement. She could see Cole flitting around in full helping mode. He never stayed with one person long. Merely giving them whatever they might need, perhaps even before they knew they needed it, then teleporting to the next.
Suddenly Cole was beside her. He pressed a cup of water into her hand. Her fingers were so stiff that the boy had to close them around the cup with his own. He watched her for a moment, making certain she took a drink. He placed cool fingers on a burn she hadn't even realized she had on her arm. "Sooth," he whispered and the pain she had barely noticed melted away. Cole seemed truly in his element, Astlyr thought as she took in his posture and what she could see of his face. He was doing what he most loved. Helping lots of people. Cole tilted his chin up, taking the empty cup from Astlyr he spoke before teleporting away to help the next person, "Cullen needs someone."
Astlyr didn't think. She merely turned and marched towards the gatehouse tower where the commander had made his residence since coming to Skyhold. She took the stairs two at a time before her mind even had a moment to catch up to the situation. What was she doing?
She pushed open the door, which already stood slightly ajar. His office was in some disrepair. His chair was toppled and a wine bottle was overturned on his desk, leaving a crimson puddle like blood over many of his papers and soaking into a book she hoped wasn't valuable. At first there was no sign of the man. Perhaps Cole had meant her to look someplace else. Maybe Cullen was down in the courtyard helping after all. Then he heard a faint sound from behind the desk.
Cautiously she moved around the heavy object, her warrior instinct prickling whether she wanted it to or not. She didn't trust what she couldn't see. But there was no enemy. Cullen sat on the floor, his back against his desk. His legs were tucked up to his chest and he had his palms pressed to his eyes so hard it looked painful. He was trembling as though taken with a deadly chill. His armor had been thrown aside and his sword was beside him, in arm's reach. Astlyr knew she would still have to move with caution and she found herself wondering if, when Cole had said 'Cullen needs someone' the boy had meant her. Perhaps she should fetch Cassandra, who had more experience dealing with the templar.
Astlyr moved towards him, crouching carefully, as one might approached a wounded dog. "Cullen?"
"No!" he voice exploded from his tight lips. "Get away from me!" he struck out with his hand.
Astlyr blocked deftly with her arm, but forgot her burn. She grunted in pain and Cullen's head shot up at the sound, his eyes focused on her. Almost too focused, as though they saw through her to the wall beyond. Then his expression softened. "Astlyr," he exhaled her name like a breath. His face was pale and drenched in sweat, his eyes red-rimmed. "I'm so sorry. I d- I thought..."
"Cullen?" Astlyr moved closer, still careful to crouch on the balls of her feet. Ever aware of his blade beside him. Once she was near enough she kicked the weapon out of reach. Cullen watched her for a long moment, still trembling as hard as he had been. He had bitten his lips raw, she noticed, and every worry line he owned had etched itself back onto his face, destroying what youth had rested there and making him look as though he had seen a thousand terrible years. "What is it? What's wrong?" Astlyr asked, keeping her voice low. Soothing.
When he answered he didn't meet her eyes, "I thought I was done with this. That the memories...the visions were gone. And then tonight, when I saw the tower, I c-I couldn't handle it. Something gave inside me. Weak! So weak!" he snarled bitterly, driving the heels of his hands into his eyes again.
Astlyr reached over and pulled his hands away. His fists were so tight she wasn't certain her own weary fingers could loosen them, so she settled for keeping them away from his face. "Cullen, talk to me. What happened?" she coaxed, finally nesting down to kneel before his huddled frame.
He looked up at her with eyes like a dying man. "After the circle. After what happened with the mages there, I sometimes had nightmares. Panic attacks. The memories were fresh. Memories of what they did to me. What I saw. But slowly that faded. I didn't get the flashes any more. I thought I was done with it. Thought I was stronger than the visions. Finally."
Astlyr made a small sound of understanding, "so tonight, when you saw the mage tower under attack..."
"It all came back. Every gory piece," he moaned, looking away from her. "Maker, why am I so weak? Why can't I be rid of this?" his lip curled in self loathing.
"Cullen," Astlyr managed to corral both of his hands in one of hers and gently reached with the other, touching his cheek, guiding him back to meet her eyes again. "You are not weak! Do you hear me? You are one of the strongest people I know." her voice was as fierce as his was defeated. "You survived when no one else could! I know that when those abominations tortured you and your fellow templars you were the only one who didn't break."
"But they did break me," he spat bitterly. "Look at me, Astlyr! Do I look unbroken to you?!"
She grasped both his hands in hers again, squeezing as tightly as her aching fingers would allow, "Yes." She put all her sincerity, all her clarity behind the word. He had to believe her. She took in his shaking form, a huddled shadow of what he could be, but she still saw a raw strength. He couldn't hide it. It was as much a part of him as her horns were of her. Even crumpled, defeated on the floor there was glimmer of the warrior in him. She knew he would stand up and fight if asked. If an enemy burst into the room he would go for his sword.
She moved carefully to sit beside him, her own back against his mahogany desk. Her body against his. Shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, knee to knee. Somehow, even with the difference in their height, here they matched. She didn't risk an arm around his shoulder. Not yet. Instead she spoke again, low and gentle, "tell me what happened to you. I've never heard the whole tale."
His jaw tightened for a moment and she wondered if she had made a mistake. She had heard that telling someone of a traumatic moment could help you feel better, but perhaps that was wrong. She could have kicked herself, and was considering giving up and going for Cassandra when the man's pained, husky voice filled the silence.
"I was so young back then," he chuckled. A cracked, sorry sound. "So idealistic and starry-eyed. I knew I was doing the right thing. Following my calling. Helping. I was popular, well liked by my fellow templars and the mages of the circle. Then everything changed. There was a man named Uldred. He was respected and trusted, though he strove for liberty for himself and his fellow mages," Cullen gave a bitter laugh, "and, Maker curse me, I agreed with him much of the time. But then something happened. I was there and I'm not certain how it began. It was so quick. Like a candle being snuffed," he rubbed his eyes wearily with thumb and forefinger before pressing on, head tilted back, resting against his desk. "The mages we thought we knew, thought we protected, had turned on us. They captured some of us, myself included, because we were so unprepared. I didn't even have my sword, idiot that I was," he glanced at his blade where it lay, kicked out of reach by Astlyr. He didn't move towards it, merely cast a baleful look its way. "The mages herded us together. It was then we saw the abominations that most of them had become. And Uldred. A pride demon had taken him. I have no idea how willingly he let the monster into his soul. I like to imagine he fought it. I don't know," he sighed, drained.
"You don't have to continue," Astlyr said, reaching across herself to give his arm a reassuring squeeze.
"I'm alright," he said. Though his voice sounded as exhausted as Astlyr felt, she noted he was no longer shaking and his breathing was evening out. He swallowed, then pressed on. "As I said, the templars they didn't kill they rounded up. They locked us in a powerful magcial cage. The best I've seen. The templars they kept were mostly young, like me. Inexperienced. They slaughtered those of our leadership they could find," Astlyr saw his jaw grow tight at the memory. "The rest of us were tortured, as you know. It wasn't physical torture, though they gave us no food or water. Instead they tried to break our minds, and they succeeded... on all but me." Astlyr remained quite, waiting. "The things they showed me. It was so real. My mother and sisters being raped. My friends flayed open, alive and screaming. My own belly cut open, maggots crawling on my raw flesh." He winced as though the memory was causing him physical pain. Astlyr pressed her shoulder more firmly against his. He inhaled then let the breath go, cleansingly. "You know, I met the hero of Fereldan."
"You did?" Astlyr questioned, intrigued.
"She came to the tower. She was the one who saved us. To my endless shame I...I told her to kill all the mages."
"They'd been torturing you. You couldn't be expected to be merciful in that moment." Astlyr reassured him.
"Maker, but she was so kind. She didn't get angry with me. She wouldn't kill the mages. She wanted to save them, and she did," he tilted his head, turning to look at Astlyr beside him for the first time. "She had a qunari with her."
"I've heard that," Astlyr nodded, smiling.
"A male, and he didn't have any horns, but it was clear he respected her. He stood with her like a loyal hound."
"Thanks."
"I mean that in the best way," Cullen chuckled, and it was the first sound he had made that wasn't laden with sorrow. "She was an elf, so he was this great tower beside her, yet you got the notion that she had to but crook her finger and he would slay all her enemies without a moment's thought."
"It's what we do," Astlyr gave his arm a careful nudge.
"She got us out and I left the circle. I couldn't...I couldn't handle it there any more. I went to Kirkwall. You know how that turned out." This time his chuckle was mirthless once more.
"You've had a hell of a time," Astlyr said, unable to keep the admiration from her voice. "I may have stumbled upon some sort of ancient rift magic that almost ended the world, but I think you've had the worst of it from life."
"You'd think it would make me better equipped to handle it," the man sighed, bowing his head, sweaty strands of hair plastering themselves to his forehead.
"I don't think it works that way," Astlyr said, placing a hand on his rounded shoulders. She rubbed them encouragingly.
"And then, after all that, I go and give up lyrium, which only makes the memories worse." His teeth flashed in a tight grimace which was supposed to be a smile. "I'm an idiot."
Astlyr fully committed to putting her arm around him now, holding his muscular shoulders tightly. To her surprise he leaned into her, laying his head against her shoulder. She could feel his calmed breathing. She let her cheek fall to rest on the top of his head, his damp hair not unpleasant against her skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, his lips clumsy with weariness.
"Shhhhh," she soothed, not daring to move. To disrupt the moment. She had to admit to herself that she liked it, after a fashion. Not that he was in distress, but that he accepted her strength in his weakness. Not many men she had known were willing to do that. Perhaps it was because he was so very beaten down, but hadn't he confided in her before? Shared his pain, which he obviously guarded so closely? She was still waiting for him to change his mind. To sit up, all bluster and uncomfortable muttering. Instead he seemed to have fallen asleep. So Astlyr gave in to her own exhaustion and let her eyes drift shut.
****If the story has been slower lately we're about to get back on the rails...with even more shit going wrong for Astlyr and her friends! But at least poor Cully-wully got some cuddles!
Why do my characters keep having PTSD? My Shepard had it, and not Cullen. It's following me!
Thanks for everyone who gave suggestions for the new name of the "History" spirit from the last chapter. I still can't decide exactly what I want to call her, but hopefully I'll have it picked before we see her again (and we will see her again, dun dun dun!) If anything else comes to your mind, shoot it my way!
As always, I love me some comments! While I would totally write this story even if only one person was reading, it still encourages me no end to hear from y'all! I notice that this is one of the few stories (I have found) that takes a non-romance-centric look at the post epilogue story. Feel free to share this with any of your friends who might enjoy it, and if you hang out on any forums where peeps might enjoy it, don't hesitate to link!
One more note, then I promise to shut up. I wanted to take a moment to share that a wonderful writer has left the world today. Remarkable and talented Terry Pratchet has died. I can only dream of being as great of a writer as him one day! I leave you all with a quote from The Hogfather to remember him by:
"YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES."
"So we can believe the big ones?"
"YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING."
Next chapter: 3/19/15****