Night had fallen, ceasing the constant strings of attacks from Samson's abominations. The more time they spent in the company of the Red Templars, the more they learned about them, including a working theory that they were unable to see well. They responded to movement with jerky reflexes of their own and their eyes were inflamed by the poison, leading them to believe this was the reason for their aversion to the night. Had they the men, they could easily attack their camps after dark, but they were hardly holding on as it was. Whatever the reason for the nightly truce, as soon as darkness swallowed the landscape, their attacks would stop giving Evelyn and her team time to recover their injuries and mana.
Their plan to hold the enemy at the caves failed a few days ago, and the combined elemental power of Evelyn, Sorin, and Solas was able to cause a large enough explosion to collapse the tunnels. However, it would not be secure for long as the scouts reported that they could hear the Red Templars clearing the rubble. The blockage was causing the enemy to traverse down the steep slope on the far side of the mountain and traverse down the ice. When Harding braved a hike out at night to scout their path for anything they could use to slow them, she was surprised to find a few of their Knights dead from the cold. Their bodies littered the trail and some were even trampled on without a care. From where they were now camped on the bank of the Elfsblood River, she swore she could hear the echoes of their pickaxes tapping away at the stone getting ever closer to breaking through. If she wasn't already freezing, it would surely wrack her back with chills. If they were to clear the passage, her team would be forced to fall back to the town and hold until reinforcements arrived, but that was their last resort. As Korbin drilled into her head through the weeks, Sahrnia was indefensible.
The beaten and battered crew boasted plentiful bruises and cuts. They were out of healing potions, and low on lyrium, which they saved for Solas to use for healing the group. Aside from non-magical methods of healing, the elven apostate was all they had for the major wounds. He stayed back from the fighting, casting barriers and patching up the fighters when need be. The rest of the party threw their magic, blades, and bodies at the enemy all day. It was almost comical the way they slunk back to camp after dark hunched over from exhaustion only to collapse, sometimes in a heap, until Solas pulled them apart for healing. Any surface cut was painful if left untreated, for the water from melted snow would freeze and expand within it. Each of them had their share of broken bones, knockouts, and moments of their lives flashing before their eyes, yet they awoke every morning ready for the next fight.
Their armor was sundered, and some were missing pieces that had been ripped from their bodies by the brutish Knights. They were at least seven feet tall with their skin puckered and pulled taught like Corypheus' face. They had incredible strength that sent all those without a shield ducking behind someone who had one. The most annoying were the ones they called 'Shadows.' They were former rogues, able to turn invisible and stab at you with their crystalized arms that were sharpened like a blade. Aside from a magical barrier, the only way to thwart them was with traps and mines. Varric and Owayne both had a trained eye to give warning as to their whereabouts on the field of battle, but the bastards were still quick to slice and stab you in the back. The other monstrosities they coined 'Horrors,' ugly hunchbacks with the ability to cast energy barriers, fire, and accelerate the corruption of the red lyrium to make their allies stronger. The worst of the bunch were the Behemoths, but they were saved when the enemy believed them to be close to defeat.
Put waves of those blighted creatures together and Evelyn truly began to wonder what it felt like not to be in pain, for it seemed never-ending.
Then there was the red lyrium…
As if things weren't bad enough, the giant primordial crystals protruding from the ground were messing with her mana and mind. Solas and Sorin were simply agitated when they were near it, but having taken it twice, Evelyn noticed a crippling pull toward it. Its deafening resonating hum when they came close to a large vein rang in her ears upon approach. The anchor would flare defensivly as would her own mana, causing her heart to race with an anxious nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nightmares threatened the three mages' sleep, and more and more they felt the presence of demons lurking and watching them from in the Fade. Their screams punctuated the silence of the twilight, waking up a portion of the camp while the others slept like the dead. The voices from her dreams haunted her constantly, putting an almost unbearable strain on her.
"Oh brave, brave mage. You will never escape us. You can slip into your salvation, the arms of the Templar, and those who you think can protect you in ignorance. There are ways in which you cannot even protect yourself, but eventually, you will slip. You will take your bow and in your moment of greatest triumph, you will stand only to fall back into the arms of those who would wait an age for their piece. Have you a clue how popular you are here? The anchor, fighting the Nightmare, galivanting through the fade. There isn't a demon here that doesn't want a piece of you, I merely hope there is enough to go around. You are so very small after all, such a meager fish to be moving so bravely in a pond toward the bottom of which is a concept you can never understand. Don't worry, mighty Phoenix, we will not act without knowing we will succeed. And when we do, we will ensure there is enough of you left to hate."
They are the words of evil incarnate, do not give in. Do not falter. You cannot fail, for so many depend on you, she chants it like a mantra in her head against the dark. Looking around at her companions only made the latter part more evident. When one of them went down and was dragged away for Solas to tend to them, the call of the red lyrium was that much stronger. Secretly, she had tucked a shard of it into her armor to use if necessary. It was her fallback plan. It was also a promise of power to crush her enemies definitely but at a cost. What would the song ask of her this time?
"Boss, someone should tell you before it's too late but… your hair looks like shit."
Evelyn stopped her brooding and shuffling feet to glare at Bull, acknowledging her nervous habit of always fixing her hair. "Thank you, as if I truly needed confirmation of that fact. These past weeks have taught me why Cass wears her short. Long hair was not meant for helmets." The Qunari shrugged and kept walking. "I'd fix it but my arms are so sore and tired I don't want to lift them."
"I'm sure Chuckles knows a spell or two to remedy that… Oh, wait," Varric's voice was made humorous from his attempt to stop a nosebleed.
"Hilarious," was all Solas offered in his defense of his baldness, waving a hand in front of the dwarf's face to staunch the bleeding.
Having finished the spell, Varric settled into a comfy spot but was jostled when Bull's heavy axe and then body hit the ground in a huff beside him. "Tiny, no! Get your shit, and get as far away from me as you can. You're really starting to smell like a bull!" Solas glanced back at the dwarf with a smirk, having got a smidge of revenge having restored his sense of smell. "Laugh it up, Chuckles."
"Surely he can't smell--" Cassandra bent and took a whiff, coughing a few times, "Maker Bull, you really… and he's asleep already. Amazing."
"Cass, no roses in the bath…" As the slumbering Qunari spoke in his sleep the others shared amused looks, though the Seeker was blushing something fierce. "…Violets or a nice frangipani."
Faster than anyone had a right to in their condition, Owayne began knocking on Bull's forehead, "Hey, no sexy dreams about Cassandra! You hear me, you big meaty ox?" Ignoring him, the Ben-Hassrath simply turned on his side and snorted a long snore.
Michel clapped her brother on the shoulder with a look of sympathy, "I am sorry, but it seems you are sharing your lady tonight." The chevalier cast a glance at Sorin, and Evelyn quickly joined him, giving the Orlesian a cold stare. One night, as she and her friend were getting ready to sleep, the smooth-talking swordsman approached with a proposal to find a secluded spot in the ruins. She quickly shot him down with a 'not happening,' but to her surprise, Michel wasn't interested in her; he was eyeing Sorin. The young Knight-Enchanter, with a face as expressionless as stone, responded with his own curt, 'not happening.' And even Owayne, who was nearby, let go of a sleeping Cassandra to add, 'You're barking up the wrong tree.' From that night onward, Michel refrained from direct propositions, yet his longing glances towards Sorin persisted. Knowing too many Orlesian nobles who saw "no" as a challenge rather than an answer, Evelyn resolved to remain ever watchful and stay close by to protect her friend.
From Evelyn's place of rest lying propped up against her bedding, she winced reaching for a cup of water. She had fade-stepped into the fray to flank a Shadow but was caught and pummeled into the rockface by a beastly Knight. The pyromancer had suffered injuries to her ribs many times, so she knew at least two were broken. The hit had also aggravated the stab wound in her chest as well, taking the wind out of her. Thankfully, Sorin had materialized to slay them, and she repaid the favor the next raid when a Horror had him pinned to the ground with its long claws dug deep into his shoulders. Looking over at him now, he was trying to heal his injuries to save Solas from bearing the brunt of the healing for the group of ten. As her one-time apprentice's frustration grew, he released the spell with a hardly detectable huff that was only discernable by his close friend with the trained eye. Meeting each other's gaze, she smiled wanly back understanding the feeling, for she gave up on healing a long time ago.
Moving over closer beside her, the two lounged back looking up over the red halo the lyrium crystals made over the mountains. They settled into a comfortable silence simply taking comfort in the other's presence as they had on Circle missions over two years ago. Evelyn couldn't help but muse on some of those adventures, causing her to think how drastically life had changed.
"We've been through some shit, haven't we?"
Sorin snorted, "We really have."
"It's odd. I can't imagine going back to live in a Circle, can you?"
He pursed his lips together and slowly shook his head against his bedroll, "No. Do you think we'll have to go back?"
They turned their heads to look at each other, propped up on their packs, "We may not, but others will. Josie thinks some in the Inquisition may get special dispensation."
"You will. If not, I think there would be an uproar." He paused a long moment searching the heavens with his pale blue eyes. His raven hair fluttered back with the harsh wind that made the two of them hug themselves shivering. Dried blood and dirt blotted his pale skin, as did a bruise along his angular jawline.
Being separated from Cullen and able to spend more time with her other friends made her realize she had been so focused on her future, that she forgot about the others. "Any plans for when this all does finally end?"
A pained look made his eyes squint slightly, "No. I'm sure you do though." There was a quiet sadness in his voice, one that threatened to break her heart.
Having met when they were very young, Sorin became attached to her after an incident involving some Chantry Sisters who had shamed him for being half-elf. His mother, Eliza Cyrus, had an extramarital affair with one of the serving elves while her husband was away on business. Thaddeus Cyrus, adhering to the principles of Andrastian forgiveness, had endeavored to raise the boy as his own. Having heard this, not only did they torment the young boy for being a mage - as they did them all - but because he was part-elf. One day Evelyn had enough, not only threatening the Sisters by invoking the Trevelyan name but using her fiery rage to frighten them into leaving their post. Naturally, the Templars silenced her until she blacked out, but never again did she find herself without the boy with stormy black hair.
Her brow creased, "Not as many plans as you'd think. I only just told my father about Cullen." Sorin hummed in acknowledgment, looking away. "Are you still angry with him?"
"Why would that be of any consequence?" He seemed defensive.
"Because I love him and you're like a brother to me, and I want you to get along in case you want to come with us after this is all over."
"You-- what?!" He looked at her as if she was crazy in a rare show of emotions.
She huffed, "I have no idea what he and I are doing after this. Maybe going off somewhere quiet to live in peace, maybe it'll be back with his family in South Reach, or maybe we'll still travel and just take dangerous jobs to help people. It's all a lot of 'ifs' and 'maybes,' but you'd be welcome to come with us."
"Sounds like you haven't spoken with him about that." Sorin's head fell heavy back looking up towards the sky again. "This is fucking stupid anyway, for we don't even know if I'll be free or you'll live through the mark's magic. Maybe we both die tomorrow here in fucking Orlais, of all places."
"Always the fucking optimist, Sorin" she smiled at him even if he couldn't see it. "First off, if the Chantry wants to do anything with you, they'd have to go through me; that much will never change. Secondly, Cullen would not have an issue with it because, in a world that wants people like me dead, one's safety relies on numbers. He's a rational man, I don't suspect he'll trade his sword for a scythe so readily. And I don't delude myself with the idea that once Corypheus is dead, that our enemies, both old and new, will simply leave me alone." She had his attention now and she lowered her voice more, "When I spoke to the Hero of Ferelden back at Skyhold, she mentioned my actions and my power will be the first thing the new Divine will strip me of. That I should wield what influence I can while I have the backing of the Inquisition and Queen Elissa. All the reforms we advocated for, all the ideas we had to make the lives of mages better we can push for now, but it will make more enemies for us."
"But if it means bettering the lives of mages, and even Templars, we must try."
"And we will, soon. The Elder One must be dealt with first."
"But what if the Mothers elect a new Divine in the meantime?"
Evelyn smirked conspiratorily, "As I've heard it, the candidates in consideration are in the Inquisition, so there is a good chance whoever is elected will be willing to work with us toward reform." A wave of understanding washed over him. "For now, we have time as they are just beginning to nominate potential candidates. But back to my original point, if I implement major change, a target will appear on my back bigger than before. Anyone who hates mages will have their sights on me. If you decide you want to come with us, know that our "peace" would be an illusion."
"Does Cullen know all this?"
"Not really, but I suspect he does to an extent." She smiled smugly, "We had other more satisfying matters worth tending to when we returned." Sorin rolled his eyes in quiet disapproval. Chuckling as much as her injuries allowed, the crunch of snow made them turn to look behind them.
"My apologies for the interruption, but you're next in my rounds, Inquisitor," Solas spoke with a droll tone.
"Sorin before me, I can wait."
"Very well, but one way or another tonight you will allow me to look at the anchor." Having been busy this week with a plethora of wounds, the elf's inspection of how her mark was spreading had been postponed. Since arriving in the area, she closed several rifts and had to use her mark's power in a few dire situations amid the fighting.
If she was being honest, she didn't want to know how it was spreading or how they couldn't do anything to stop it. All she could do was pick and choose the right moments when to use the mark. Every rift sealed was coming at a price now, but there was nothing to be done, they needed to be closed. The more she used it, the more powerful its magic became, adapting to her carry out her will. At Adamant, it had given her the strength to break down the gates, when all it could do before was suck demons back into the Fade. The red lyrium had certainly messed with it, but the collective minds of the mages of the inner circle were unable to discern how.
"Inquisitor," Solas broke her of her thoughts, "your hand, please." Gazing into his pale eyes, she huffed in defeat placing it in his. His long fingers traced about her palm, "Do you still have feeling in your hand and fingers?"
"It's hard to tell being all but frozen for the past two weeks." The ache in her muscles from continuous shivering was verging on insufferable.
He snorted, "Good point." When she stared at him pathetically, he sighed heavily, "I may have found a spell to help stop the spread. I don't know much about the particular spell, so I didn't want to get your hopes up before I was able to conduct thorough research." At his omission, her eyes went wide. "But regardless, it is not a solution, simply a temporary remedy."
"What is it?! How did you learn of it?!" It was a surprising reveal, but something about it seemed as if he had been hiding it.
"From my Fade walks speaking with the Spirits. It has finally bore fruit as we've sorted through the past's wisdom."
"Why don't you seem thrilled by the notion of using this spell, Solas?" Both she and Sorin narrowed their stares at him. A glance at her friend found that his lip was slightly twitching up as if in a snarl. She and Sorin had always distrusted him. It had been ingrained within them that they could trust an apostate as much as they could trust a maleficar. Ever since Solas began helping with calming the anchor in Haven, Sorin was always on hand to assist the elf, fearful of what he was doing to her, especially when she was in and out of consciousness. Solas typically did not tolerate any of the others, making her former apprentice the perfect mage to quietly observe and assist him as he tended to Evelyn. This, the two Knight-Enchanters kept to themselves, allowing the others of the Inquisition to question him openly, like how Madame Vivienne was constantly doing.
"It's an ancient elven spell that has a connection to the orb, but the Spirits cannot tell me more than that. It's a risk, as with all forgotten knowledge."
"If you trust the Spirits and believe it will be beneficial, I'm willing to try it. You don't think it would cause harm, correct?" He shook his bald head confidently. "In any case, I'd like the Seeker here as you administer the spell. Please get her and bring her up to speed." Nodding, Solas left to find her, leaving them alone once more.
The dark-haired mage crossed his arms, "E, you don't really think this is a good idea, do you?"
She shrugged, "We've had our suspicions about him, but he seems to genuinely want to keep me alive. I think it may be time to consult Sister Nightingale. I'm sure she's already investigated him, but she's an expert on motives. "
"I agree."
"For now, we let him cast his spell, and when we return to Skyhold--"
He scoffed, "You mean if we return."
Evelyn smacked his arm, "Shut it! When we return to Skyhold, we'll speak with her. For now, just pay attention to the energy in the spell. Reinforcements are no doubt almost here. We just have to hang on a little longer." Easier said than done, she thought to herself.