She glanced at Blackwall as they moved through the burning village. He nodded, and then lifted his war horn to his lips. Solas lifted his staff, and the gem set in the top began to glow brightly. She smiled, and did the same thing.
Varric sent a crossbow bolt into an oncoming templar, and shouted something about Bianca.
"Once we get the trebuchet aimed, I want the rest of you to run for the Chantry."
"Herald..."
"Don't argue with me, Blackwall." She gripped her staff. "I really don't want to have to make you." He nodded reluctantly. She narrowed her eyes, and then glanced at Solas. "Hit him with your staff if you need to."
"You remember that barrier trick I showed you, yes?" Solas asked as he sent a blast of green energy into an oncoming group of templars, sending them flying.
"Don't worry about me."
"Heh. Fat chance of that," Varric said.
#
They had to fight their way through multiple waves of templars to get the trebuchet aimed. To her horror, she actually recognized a couple of them. Could Xaver... her other cousins... No. She had to hope they hadn't been drawn in by the lures of this Elder One.
With the last wave came a monster. The red lyrium had spread to cover some poor soul, turning him into a behemoth of red spikes. One of his blows destroyed Blackwall's shield. Only a well-timed blast of magic from Solas stopped it from doing the same to Blackwall himself. She and Solas caught it in a crossfire, feeding their spells into each other in a discordant harmony. The lyrium around the thing seemed to crack and shatter, and it fell to the ground.
She moved in to aim the trebuchet, and gestured for her companions to run. Much as she expected, Blackwall hesitated. Solas started to reach for the man's arm, then his eyes widened. "Herald!"
Her barrier sprang into place only a heartbeat before the dragon's breath struck. She went flying.
#
The ground shook when it landed. She managed to get to her feet. Her staff lay nearby, snapped in half. The massive beast roared. Maker, it was big enough to swallow a horse in a single bite. It crouched, but did not move to attack.
"Pretender." The massive emissary strode through the flames, ignoring them as if they were naught but smoke. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."
She turned to face it. She was Ruya Trevelyan, of House Trevelyan. And if she was going to die today, it was going to be on her feet and fighting. "Whatever you are, I am not afraid."
"Words mortals often hurl at the darkness. Once they were mine. They are always lies." He continued towards her. "Know me, know what you have pretended to be." He spread his hands, the long fingers ending in sharp claws. "Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus." He pointed a claw at her. "You will kneel."
Not a chance. "You'll... you'll get nothing out of me."
"You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not." He held up an orb. "I am here for the Anchor. The process of removing it begins now." The orb glowed, and suddenly the pain in her hand was overwhelming. "It is your fault, 'Herald'. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose. I don't know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched,' what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens." Her hand glowed green, and the pain drove her to the ground. "And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall."
She struggled back to her feet, glaring at him defiantly. "It's a boon from Andraste. She saved my life."
He gave her a mocking smile. "Then your Lady wished me to kill you, for Her 'boon' is a beacon I cannot let escape." He caught her wrist, and lifted her into the air. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more." He lifted her higher, until their faces were level. "I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and it was empty." He flung her towards the trebuchet.
It was more instinct than intent that raised the barrier. She struck the wooden beam of the trebuchet, but her skull didn't split. Her vision grayed slightly, but she didn't black out. She managed to get to her feet.
Corypheus turned towards her. "The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling." He started walking towards her, the dragon at his heels. "So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - and god - it requires. And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die."
There. Above his head. Above the mountain. An arrow. The signal. They'd made it. Her shoulder was dislocated, but she grabbed the sword anyway, holding it in front of her defiantly. "You expect us to surrender and kneel. We will not." The trebuchet was aimed and armed. "You'll face us all. When we choose." She kicked the trigger, and the stone was flung into the air.
He watched it fly through the air. She dropped the sword and ran like hell, bringing a barrier around her. She heard the stone, felt the ground tremble as the rockslide began. Her feet skidded out from under her, and she fell, tumbling through the few wooden boards someone had set to keep people from falling into the mine shaft. She bounced once, twice, and skidded to a halt on an icy surface. This time, she did black out.
#
Her eyes opened, and she sat up with a gasp. Her shoulder felt like it was on fire, but it was the numbness in her fingers that had her worried. Slowly, she managed to get to her feet. It took her three tries to summon the mote of light into her hand.
She stumbled her way through the tunnels. Twice her concentration broke, and the light went out. The last time, she let it be. She could make out a glow ahead, and went towards it.
Demons. She couldn't call up a spell, and so just raised her hand. Something flowed out of the mark, a shifted energy, like a mirror of a rift. The demons were drawn into it as it collapsed, and she continued forward.
It was snowing. She scanned the mountains. In the distance, she could just barely make out a glow. Drawing her coat around her, she headed towards it.
#
The snow was deep. She'd fallen through a crust, and something had cut open her leg. She was leaving a trail of blood behind her now. The snow had stopped, but the chill wind remained.
Something howled.
She was pretty sure it was a wolf. Wayfinder was what Cassandra had called the wolf that had saved her. She could use such a creature now. Something to find her way through the snow and ice. The howl came again. North. She walked towards it, blind in the falling snow.
#
Stars. The wind had died, and with it the snow. The drifts were piled high. Her lungs burned with each freezing breath. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot stuck. She pulled it free. Right foot.
A camp. A fire. "Embers? Recent?" She blinked at it. It wasn't buried by snow. They couldn't have been gone long. She continued stumbling towards the small pass between two rocks.
Someone shouted. Someone else thanked the maker. And then someone had picked her up and was carrying her. Fur tickled her nose, but the arms around her were warm. Safe. She let herself fall into the dark.