Chapter 11: The Breach
It was time. Errol was supposed to meet Cassandra and the mages in the courtyard in half an hour, but she still had one thing that needed to be done before the reckoning came.
She hesitated at the door inside the Chantry, then steeled herself and knocked. After a muffled "Come in!" she entered.
He was perusing their meager book stores, his back to her. She took a deep breath.
"Dorian, I'm—"
"Sorry you burned alive my friend's father right in front of him, then neglected to talk to me about it for the entire journey back, or in fact at all up until this very moment?" he said, turning to her and gesticulating wildly with a book. "Oh no, it's fine, really don't worry about it."
She lifted her chin. "I'm not going to apologize."
"You… shouldn't." He sighed and set the book down. "He was a madman who broke the world. I just wish you hadn't chosen that exact moment to set Andraste's holy fire on him. Felix was traumatized. So was I, for that matter. But he did deserve to die, as much as it pains me to say it."
"I just… wanted to see if you're okay. And if Felix is okay."
Dorian let out a bitter laugh. "He's traveling to the Magisterium now to sing your praises, if you can believe it. He's taking the whole 'burninating his father' thing rather in stride. He's a good lad. Pity that he's dying, but he's doing it on his terms. Better death than what he would have become." He sighed and shook his head, as if casting aside negative thoughts. He looked at her, his eyes clear. "And thank you."
"For what?"
He started to approach her, a smile slowly making its way onto his face. "Apologizing."
"I didn't—" she started, holding her hands up, but he batted them away and pulled her close.
"Shhh, little kitten, why, what's happening! I'm coming in for a hug, and it's rare, so just shut up and enjoy it." He held her for a moment, her face squished against his firm chest. He smelled pleasantly of cinnamon cologne. Finally he pulled away and held her shoulders, his face serious. "Now don't die at the Breach. I still need to buy you that drink, and you still need to tell me your stories. Then you buy me a drink, and we'll consider the past the past. Deal?"
She smiled. "Deal."
"Excellent," he said, clapping her on the back. "Let's go, I think I can hear the masses starting to get anxious."
—there was a moment, when she was closing the Breach, magic thrumming fast and sharp out of her palm and snagging the edges of the ragged tear in the sky, needle and thread through a gaping wound, stitching it tight, the pull so strong that it lifted her off of her feet and she floated like an angel toward the void and it was only the force of a hundred mages that kept her from spiraling into it, there was a moment when she saw past the green and the clear and she could almost hear them, those voices, that beeping, and almost smell it, and almost see the red velvet darkness of lids that wouldn't open, but she didn't know what it meant, what did it mean, and then the fierce power of the mages ran through her and the Mark lit up emerald and the Breach burst and sealed, a rough scar across the sky and she fell back to the ground and it was gone, gone, gone—
Errol sat on a ledge above the lower courtyard and watched them dance. Everyone was half drunk already; Varric had made her promise to save a dance for him, as had Iron Bull. Sera had disappeared somewhere in a fit of giggles, muttering something about Josephine and knickers and lizards. Vivienne was sedately and regally sipping wine at a small table by herself. Dorian was chatting up a handsome elven mage. Solas was nowhere to be seen, but a light was burning in his cabin window. Cassandra, Josephine, and Leliana were sitting together and sharing a bottle of wine, their faces calm and relieved.
Errol wanted to join them; she would in a minute. She was still dwelling on what had happened at the Breach. The pull had been so strong, like a cord tied behind her ribs, lifting her, urging her to go back through. When she closed it, that cord had been severed, and she felt like she had lost something. It wasn't a huge change; she still firmly felt that there was a way to go back, if she truly wanted to, but the main bridge was gone. She would have to find a footpath. And that vision…
"The party's in your honor and yet I find you sitting here alone."
She looked up and smiled. "I'm not alone anymore."
Cullen smiled back, a true smile, and settled down next to her. Like her he was still in his armor, but some of the tension had faded from his shoulders. "Solas confirmed it: The Breach is sealed. I can't believe it."
"Me neither," she said. "I was afraid it wouldn't work."
"I was afraid you would die," he said bluntly, and she looked at him, surprised. "All of that magic running through you. I thought it would tear you apart."
"Well, I'm still here," she said, and he leaned in, just a little, their shoulders brushing.
"That you are."
They sat for a moment in contented silence. Then he said: "If they didn't believe you were the Herald before, they do now. Word of your heroism has spread, and there are still many rifts left to be sealed. I'm afraid your, and the Inquisition's, work isn't done yet."
"Good," she said, and when he looked surprised she shrugged. "I mean, not good, but while I'm still here it'll be good to have a purpose."
"Yes," he said softly. "While you're still here. So you do intend to leave, once this is all concluded? Can you even still return, now that the Breach is sealed?"
"I… don't know," she said honestly. "Solas said that there might be other ways to cross over, but I don't know where I belong anymore. I'm starting to think the Inquisition is my home now, but it can't last forever. Once that's gone, what will I have? My family is there."
"You'll always have the Inquisition," he said. "If not in name, then the people in it. There will always be a place for you here, Errol. You needn't return to your homeworld. You can do far more good here. You already have."
"Oh, right," Errol said, understanding twisting her gut. She opened her left hand and watched her palm flicker green. "The Mark."
He looked upset. "No, I didn't mean—"
The warning bells began to ring, loud and brash, just as lights flared on the mountain. He leapt up as if burned, suddenly the Commander again, and began racing toward the gate. "Forces approaching! To arms!"
Errol was on her feet in seconds. She sprinted to her cabin, grabbed her staff, and strapped on her emergency pack before turning on her heel and running back to the gate.
She arrived just in time to hear Cullen say that the massive force approaching was under no banner. Then, the knocking started, and plaintive voice called out: "I can't come in unless you open!"
I know that voice.
"Open the gates!" she demanded, and when they stared at her, she snapped: "Now!" They opened them just in time to see a wispy boy in an overlarge hat and patchwork clothing kill an enemy attacker. He then raced inside and they slammed the gates behind him.
"I'm—" he started, but she launched herself on him, hugging him so tightly a normal person wouldn't be able to breathe.
"Cole! You're Cole!"
"Yes, I'm Cole. You're happy. You're not afraid." He sounded amazed, and tentative.
"You have no idea how happy I am to see you," she said, smiling, because it was a shit situation and finally meeting her mysterious spirit friend was the one silver lining.
"Herald, you know this boy?" Cassandra asked suspiciously.
"I'll explain later," she said quickly. "Cole, what are you doing here? Why now?"
"I came to warn you. The templars come to kill you."
"Templars?" Cullen said incredulously. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"
"The red templars went to the Elder One," Cole said urgently, coming close to Errol. She could sense so strongly that he was a spirit it amazed her that no one else could. He was made of the Fade; he practically vibrated with it. "You took his mages." He pointed to the top of the mountain, his whole body one graceful arc. "There."
They followed his gaze. "I know that man," Cullen started. "But this Elder One—" He abruptly stopped.
Errol looked, and saw a man on the mountain, and then rising up behind him as if from hell itself—
No, it's not possible.
The creature was over fifteen feet tall and looked like a Frankenstein's monster of flesh, bone, and red lyrium. His hands were claws, his face pulled grotesquely to the side by huge chunks of red stone, his ribs and spine exposed. Nothing could look like that and be alive. He radiated a power she felt even from that distance, a darkness that warped the Fade and twisted reality.
"He's very angry that you took his mages," Cole said solemnly.
"Oh, fuck me," she breathed. "What the hell have I gotten myself into?" She swung around. "Cullen, tell me you have a plan. Anything."
Once again, it was time to fight for their lives. They almost succeeded.
And then, the dragon showed up.
As she watched the dying Chancellor Roderick, Errol suddenly had the urge to apologize for always calling him 'Ministry of Silly Hats.' Instead, she simply said, "Thank you."
He merely coughed, bloodily, and let Cole lead him away. Cole looked back, his eyes huge beneath messy bangs.
"You won't die," he said, sounding panicked. "Just don't go back. You'll want to, it will feel right, but please don't. Stay here."
"What are you—" she started, but he was gone, moving quickly even with the Chancellor's weight on his thin shoulders.
Now it was just her and Cullen. The others would return shortly - Solas, Iron Bull, and Varric were going to help her reach the final trebuchet, while the rest were leading the refugees to safety. This was the last moment, the last quiet moment with just him.
"Errol," he started, gripping her arm so tightly it hurt. "You will survive this. You must. We…" His face was open, searching, pained, wavering on the edge of saying something. Then he walled himself off before her eyes, becoming the Commander again, and the words were left unsaid. "We never did play that game of chess."
She laughed, and it sounded like a sob. "We didn't, did we? After all of this time."
"We will," he said, firmly. "By the Maker, we will." He dropped her arm and straightened as the others finally returned. "If we are to have a chance - if you are to have a chance - let that thing hear you."
Then he touched her cheek, briefly, his eyes memorizing her face, before turning on his heel and running after the rest of Haven.
"Hey Boss, don't look so down," Iron Bull said, clapping her on the back. "You'll make it through this. You've made it through worse."
"I mean, you went to the future and back, that's got to count for something, right? You'll be fine," Varric said, but his words sounded like flat placations.
She looked desperately at Solas. He regarded her, then said: "Remember what Cole said. It would not do to die now."
"Hey Chuckles, anyone ever tell you you've got a great bedside manner?" Varric snapped.
"Enough," Errol said, and they fell silent. She looked at each of them in turn. "Once we get to the trebuchet, you need to promise me you'll run. I won't have your blood on my hands because you felt like playing the hero. I will do this alone. Promise me." They said nothing. She raised her voice. "The Iron Bull, I pay you and the Chargers. You will do as I say. Do you understand me, mercenary?"
His voice was low and bitter. "Yes, Boss."
"Varric, someone has to tell this story," she said, hands on her hips. "I don't trust anyone but you to do it justice. You got that?"
"I'll write it all down, Sunshine," he said, nodding.
She turned last to Solas. "The Inquisition needs your knowledge more than anything," she said softly. "They're lost without you. You will run, won't you?"
He stared at her with pride in his eyes. "I will. The Inquisition will continue."
"Good," she said, and pushed up her sleeves. "Now let's get out there and kick some dragon ass."
The monster held her, dangling from one arm, a dragon at her back, and Errol knew, unequivocally, that she was going to die.
"You should never have crossed over, mistake," he snarled at her. "Thief. I have seen the throne of the Gods, and it was empty. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. You closed my Breach. Here is your new God's reward: once I have my victory I will find another way into your reality and I will ruin it. I will make your people beg for mercy before I farm their bodies for red lyrium and I will rule all."
"No!" she screamed into his face. "I will never let that happen!"
He laughed at her then, and shook her like a doll. "You think you can defy me, because you stole the Anchor, because of what you are? You think that gives you power?" She stared at him and he laughed again. "Foolish girl, you don't even know what you are, and I will destroy you before you can ever find out."
He tossed her away like garbage, and she landed hard on the trebuchet. Her vision swam. Just a little longer, she thought, and in her head it sounded like her dad's voice. Hold on, my Owl. I know you can do it. Be brave. Get angry.
Corypheus' voice brought her back to reality. "The Anchor is permanent," he snarled. "You have spoiled it with your stumbling."
She lunged and grabbed for a fallen sword, holding it in front of her like a talisman. Be brave. Get angry.
"So be it," Corypheus boomed. "I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation - and God - it deserves, and cast down your pathetic, magic-less reality into the darkness!"
She saw the flare go up over the mountains, and smiled grimly. It was finally time.
"You know," Errol said loudly. "Asshole, my world might not have magic, but it created a lot of good shit. Technology. Literature. Art. I'm personally a big fan of catchphrases and shitty action movies. Hell, I'm living one, and I'm probably going to die right now, and I've always wanted to say this." She kicked the lever, hard, and watched the trebuchet fire its last stones far into the mountain. The snow began to rumble. She smiled at him, bright and bitter. "Yippee-ki-yay, Motherfucker."
Then she turned and ran like hell.
The snow came thundering down, faster than even she expected it to. She felt Corypheus take two steps toward her, then back away as the snow closed in on him. A second later the dragon took off with him wrapped safely in its claws, just as the first of the snow began to cover Haven. She spied a busted underground room and dove into the gap as the snow rumbled above her. It flooded most of the room, her head slammed into the ground, and—
Beep… beep… beep…
"Her heart rate is dropping again— why does this keep happening?"
"There's been a spike in brain activity but still no response. Errol, Errol can you hear me? No pupil dilation."
"I need 20 cc's—"
"What's happening? What's happening to my girl?"
"Someone get the family out of here, now!"
"Errol! Errol! ERROL! Let me stay, let me see my daughter! You told me she was stabilized! Errol!"
The smell of antiseptic. The red of light from behind closed eyelids. The heaviness of weighted limbs. The sound of her parents' voices. It's so easy to stay here and drift off to sleep, like it's all been a dream, all of these months, this beautiful, terrible year. Just a dream.
"Not a dream," Cole's voice says, and she wants to push it away. It doesn't belong here. "It feels right but it's not. If you stay now you'll die."
'I was afraid you would die,' Cullen says in her memory.
'Remember what Cole said,' the echo of Solas says. 'It would not do to die now.'
'Where do I belong?' her own voice whispers back at her. She still doesn't know, but she can't leave them. Not now. Not yet. They still need her. And she loves it, that blessed, broken world, Iron Bull calling her Boss, Sera waking her up by pouncing on her, Cassandra's fierce faith, Josephine giving her little cakes, Varric spinning her tales, Blackwall telling dirty jokes in his grave, serious voice, Leliana throwing her a rare smile, Solas looking at her with pride in his eyes, Cullen touching her face before she went off to die…
No!
She pulls herself away. It hurts, like ripping off her skin and sucking out the air from her lungs, and she finds herself going back down, down, away from that warmth and light, through the darkness and the Fade and the veil, down through whatever path she had inadvertently opened and as it closes behind her she—
Errol opened her eyes and gasped. Everything was cold and wet and dark. She was trapped in a pocket of air under the snow, inches away from freezing to death, but she was alive, or as close to it as she could be in this world.
She knew then, like she should have known all along. She wasn't here physically. Her body was in a hospital in her world, which meant, if this was even real and not just a figment of her comatose mind, that she wasn't a mage at all. She wasn't the Herald of Andraste. She wasn't even really human.
She was just a spirit.