Disclaimer: I own nothing, I make no money.
Author's Note: So here's the deal: I want to try to post a chapter a day. Ambitious, I know, especially for my slow ass. But the chapters are so short that I feel it can be done. And I am enlisting your help readers. Please, PLEASE, if I fail to keep my update promise then lay into me. It will keep me motivated to stay to schedule, because I'll feel like a dick for not keeping my word. Deal?
Interlocking
Chapter Six: Shattered
"Something cold and heavy begins to fester inside her. She turns her gaze to Krem and swallows back that thick slice of dread." – Krem and Harding find each other in a world torn apart. A story told in brief glimpses.
Everyone is dancing. Singing, drinking, generally making merry. There is no more green over-arching tear in the sky. The Inquisitor has sealed the breach. Haven is heavy with music and laughter.
Harding sits in the main square, clapping her hands to the music and watching her scouts dance. She lets out a loud guffaw at two of her scouts drunkenly crashing into each other in the middle of the dancing ring. She grabs her mug of ale beside her and takes a large gulp. Beside her, her men are singing along with the tune and have their arms over each other's shoulders, swaying with the melody. Several of them have splashes of ale and mead against their tunics, their tankards sloshing in their hands as they sing. No one seems to notice. It is all smiles and ease and the soft quaking breath of relief that blankets the troops.
"Care for a dance?"
Harding blinks at the voice beside her, lowering her mug from her mouth, her smile still gracing her features. She turns to her left and finds a hand outstretched. She purses her lips at the fuzzy image and trails her gaze up the arm and then the face and then the man that it belongs to. Krem. Harding cannot tell if it is the ale that warms her or something else. But he is standing there, hand outstretched, light from the nearby fire flickering across his face. He smiles, and it is inviting and dangerous and soothing all at once. Her hand slips into his of its own accord and she is jumping from her seat, stumbling tipsily only for a moment, steadied by Krem's hand on her back. He leads her to the dancing ring and she must wave off the cat-calling and hollering of her men as she giggles.
The music is drum-heavy and urgent within her. She dances around the square, both in turn with Krem, who moves, to her surprise, in graceful ease to her awkward steps, and with the other men and women around the square. Twirling across the floor, a laugh bubbles up within her. She finds his eyes easily and reaches her hand toward him as the dance brings them back together.
The sharp clang of the warning bell sounds. Harding's step falters and she must blink through the haze of ale and happiness to look to the sound. Everyone in the square is still, the music dead instantly.
Something cold and heavy begins to fester inside her. She turns her gaze to Krem and swallows back that thick slice of dread.
His eyes are not on hers. He is looking over the nearest snowy hill, his jaw clenched tight, a taut and steady stillness rooting him. He grabs for her arm and pulls. "Come with me."
Haven erupts into movement then.
Harding lets Krem pull her along, tries to keep step with him but her shorter legs and intoxicated mind are making it difficult to run without tripping several times. All around her are shouts and the thumping of boots, the clang of the bell still reverberating around the square in alarm. Somewhere in the distance she thinks she hears their forward gate being blasted open in a trembling boom. She pulls in a quaking breath and tries to focus. "Krem! Krem, where are we going?"
Cullen rushes past her, sword raised, a troop of soldiers following his bellowing orders.
Krem does not look at her. Keeps moving. Keeps his eyes set and determined ahead of them. "To the Chantry. I'm getting you in there before I join the Chargers on the front."
She tries to dig her heels into the snow to stop. "Wait, wait – Krem I can still –" She only succeeds in stumbling. His gait is unbroken and unrelenting. She fumbles up the steps after him. A group of mages rush past them toward the square. Harding can see the Inquisitor jumping over the ledge atop the stairs across from them, landing in the snow and then breaking into a sprint toward the main gate. Harding turns to Krem and reaches her free hand to grasp his along her arm. "Please, Krem, stop!"
He stills before her and she is so surprised she almost runs into him.
"You've had ale, right?"
She blinks in confusion at his question."Uh, yeah, I mean, we all…"
He finally looks at her. "Too much?"
She cannot be sure whether he says it as a question or a statement.
His eyes soften and there is the barely-there glimpse of fear she finds looking back at her. "Too much to fight clearly?" he clarifies.
Harding snaps her mouth shut. Pulls a steadying breath through her nose. She looks back behind them and finds a sea of red flooding toward their gate. It is not quite fire, not quite magic. She'd be lying if she said she didn't panic at the sight, even in the slightest. She looks back to Krem and swallows tight. Finds his hand still holding her. Something stronger than fear begins to take root in her heart. "I can still shoot straight," she answers. She's relieved to find her voice comes out steadier than she feels.
Krem watches her for a moment, looks up to the oncoming horde of demons and something else he cannot place. Firelight casts gleaming red flashes against the flood of enemies. He locks gazes with her. "Then make sure that's all you do. Stay with the Chargers. Stay in the back. I will cover you."
She pushes down that tremble of fear and anxiety rattling inside. Nods to him. "Okay."
"Okay," he breathes. This time, when he moves, it is her hand he grasps to pull along after him. Their fingers link without question. "Stay close."
His whisper is heavy and ragged in the winter air. It sends her spine to tingling.