Chương 52: Chapter 52: The Bleeding Effect
Two days of rest had passed by quickly catching up on intelligence from Leliana and diplomatic affairs from Josephine. Evelyn had had time to write the Spymaster about her concerns regarding Solas, Michel de Chevin, and Miriam De Montfort. Something fishy was going on between the three of them, but what it was, even a moderate player of The Game like herself could not fathom. Plus, she had enough on her plate as it was, and her mind could only be pulled in so many directions before she forgot the whole purpose of being in the Emprise du Lion altogether.
Solas' spell had worked, preserving her blessed arm from degrading further. Pleased - but seemingly not surprised that it had - the elf explained that the spell would wear off after so long, but would hold strong until it did. However, he did not know how long it lasted, so he still needed to keep a personal eye on it. When asked if he could teach the spell to Sorin or one of the Senior Enchanters, he replied that it was an ancient elven spell so complex that Circle mages hadn't the skills to cast it correctly. Sharing a knowing look with her fellow Knight-Enchanter, the two played it off as if they understood and let the matter drop - though the Spymaster would hear of it.
Even with their personnel problems, by far the biggest challenge was the red lyrium tainting everything. In the aftermath of the battle, the dead Red Templars oozed the red poison into the river and when her valet gave her river water to wash with, some soaked into Evelyn's skin. Though it was a small amount, it was enough to make her feel as if her skin was being bitten by thousands of fire ants. The pyromancer nearly itched herself raw until Enchanter De Montfort was able to give her some relief. Though the incessant itch stopped, she was left with a massive headache. With the river water unsafe for use, they began collecting snow water to boil, which was better, but the more ground they uncovered, the more the crimson crystals poked up out of the soil as if they were spring flowers.
The constant buzz of the charged lyrium put a ringing in all of the mages' ears and they became testy towards their fellow soldiers. Blundering around with their eyes half squinted, it was becoming a real problem. For the Inquisitor, it was drastically worse, having consumed the poison twice before. Evelyn had been confined to her tent, unable to walk about without vomiting. Her hands shook, and it was as if she was suffering from lyrium withdrawal. Miriam stayed with her most of the day, along with Sorin who worried that the longer she stayed in the Emprise du Lion, the worse she'd become.
The other mages and Templars had become frightened of the Inquisitor's reaction, having burned a few in her treatments. Miriam, to her credit, was the only one who had stayed regardless of the burns she received. The Enchanter was a devout Andrastian, and just as her advisors predicted, it did not matter if people knew the truth of how her mark was etched in her palm. Evelyn couldn't help but feel guilty for the wounds and scars she was suffering on her hands and wrists and had begged the healer to relent on numerous occasions to prevent further injury. Sorin had even tried to talk sense into her, but even as stubborn and blunt as he was, he failed. Miriam De Montfort believed in her heart that it was her sacred duty and honor not to waver before the Herald's holy flames, as she was being tested by the Maker. The resolve that dwelled deep within her pale blue eyes seemed to mirror the Knight-Encanter's own in a sense and yielded to her desire to serve.
Fade-bent on being a part of the operation, Evelyn was desperate for relief, "Isn't there anything you can think of Enchanter? Why is it the Templars cannot Silence me?" At first light, Evelyn and her companions would be trekking up to meet with Cullen to formulate a plan of attack. The Commander had been busily retaking their camps up the mountain and was now in a position to assault both Suledin Keep and the quarry. He was currently holding their position at what they were calling the 'Tower Camp,' aptly named for it sat at the base of the Tower of Bone.
"Please, Your Worship, call me Miriam." As much as they were a bit weary of the Orlesian Enchanter, she could not fault the woman's dedication having scarred herself for life simply to bring her relief. When it came to Sorin, from what Evelyn had observed, it seemed she had a harmless crush on the Marcher.
"As soon as you start calling me Evelyn-- ow!" A groan of agony split her head in two and her veins pulsed with fire.
Blue glowing hands were hovering over her in an instant, "I can quell the pain as much as I can, which in turn will lessen your mana's reaction to it. I feel it is as you described to me before, where your magic is trying to protect you." With the help of Sorin, Evelyn divulged her history of red lyrium poisoning to the Orlesian. "If I can catch it before it flares up, I can lessen the impact greatly. However, I do not understand why it is our Templars cannot calm your mana without them becoming completely spent. And even then, it hardly helped you."
"Unfortunately, I think we need to consult Solas." Sorin crossed his arms and looked between the two women.
Miriam's eyes darkened, "Why should we bother with the apostate?" Like her good friend Vivienne, she was clearly an Aequitarian, and staunch believer in the role of Circles in Thedas. "What could he tell us that we haven't tried already?"
From under his raven locks, he sighed annoyed, "He knows things. He's the only one who can cast the spell to protect her mark from spreading. Look, we don't trust him either, but he has helped."
With a hoarse rasp, Evelyn countered, "Yes, but I don't see him anywhere to be found. Where was he with the other mages before I frightened them away? All but Miriam, that is, and I agree with her. He can cast his spell of preservation on the anchor, but we don't need him for this. Miri is more than capable and I trust her assessment." Grateful for her confidence - and possibly the nickname signaling their new friendship - Miriam nodded with a sweet smile.
"Very well, but E, how in the Void are you going to make it to the Tower Camp?" He had a valid point.
"I will simply have to deal with it."
"I'm afraid I have to agree," her soft Orlesian accent was soothing, "the sooner you are away from the energy bleeding from the crystals the better. Let us hope Commander Rutherford has been able to clear the camp of the primeval crystals. It'll help all of us mages immensely, but you Evelyn, I fear will suffer regardless. I can make a tonic that will help replenish and fortify you after each purging. No need to have you weakened further by that. I'll start making them, call me if I have not returned before the next wave." With her gaze lingering longer on Sorin - who hardly glanced her way - she left the two brooding Knight-Enchanters.
"Right," she resigned herself to the thought that there would be no remedy for her, "well, if there's nothing that can be done, there is no sense dwelling on it. We leave for the Tower Camp tomorrow and I'll just have to suck it up." He nodded, his pale eyes holding hers still, "And for the love of Andraste, would you please acknowledge that poor girl!" Sorin shrugged defiantly, and Evelyn threw her arm above her head in a huff. "Out of my sight, you're hopeless." She turned her back to him under her layers of blankets, snuggling down as much as she could in them.
"Finally, smells like shit in here from all your vomit." When she poked her head up and looked at him over her shoulder, he was smirking at inconveniencing her, "Goodnight, E." After he left, Evelyn grumbled at the remark, envisioning burning his pants on in front of Miriam. The thought alone imagining their reactions lifted her spirits as she drifted off into the Fade.
***
The Tower of Bone seemed out of place, even as a relic from a different time. The glare from off its immense metal chains reminded him too much of The Gallows as did all the red lyrium. In two days, he had pushed his soldiers hard to get to the "crossroads" of Samson's operation. With his placement of the Tower Camp, he successfully cut off the supplies to the mine and fort from Judicel's Crossing - a long and terribly high bridge that connected to a major road through Orlais. He made a note to himself to warn Evelyn about the height, knowing her fear of them. The guards had already intercepted several supply wagons bound for the fort, no doubt in a rush to get them to Samson before the Inquisition descended upon them. Their position also cut off the fort and mine from each other, so there would be no ability for either to call for reinforcements. He had Samson right where he wanted him...
How long he has waited for this moment of retribution? Cullen was wound so tightly, that it took everything in him to patiently wait for the fortifications of camp to be built before launching his assault. Samson was watching; now and again from high in Suledin Keep, the glare from the sun glanced off a looking glass from the fort's battlements. Twice, Cullen had reached for his own in time to see the man himself snarling back down at him. He had even placed his Command Tent in the perfect position so he could see each time he spied on their camp. It brought him no small amount of satisfaction seeing Samson rip his straggly hair out over having been outmaneuvered by him; it was a small victory for all the lives of his brothers and sisters of the Order he wasted. But he wanted more...
There was something odd drifting in the mountainous air; Cullen was feeling more aggressive and anxious than usual lately. He contributed it to Samson's presence, but lately, he had been seeing red. A tight coiling in his chest wound him tightly up in anticipation of release. After much thought, he realized he hadn't had a single headache, any trembling limbs, fatigue, no physical withdrawal symptoms at all. In the battles up the mountain, he felt a dominance in his swordsmanship. Enemies crashed against his unmovable shield before being quickly cut down. It was too good to be true, for these were Red Templars with augmented strength, speed, and endurance; he should not have been outpacing them.
Then it hit him.
If the mages were suffering in its proximity, what would prevent him from such side effects? Except for him, his lyrium-starved body was blissfully drinking it in greedily without his consent. The red lyrium was bleeding into him and he was getting a high just by being near the largest deposit of the mineral they had ever discovered. It needed to be destroyed.
Trying to suppress the renewed effects of its corruption, he clenched his fist feeling the intoxicating strength and stamina that lyrium gave Templars. No, he was not part of the Order; he did not want to feel its raw addicting power again. The red stuff didn't bring the clarity of the cool blue lyrium, clouding his mind instead with vengeance. His private thoughts raced with the calculating speed he once relished, but its return made him feel dirty. It was as if he had drunk a barrel full of Antivian coffee, and he could do nothing but pace like a caged lion waiting, hoping, Samson would attack to grant him some physical outlet from its bleeding effects.
When a scout reported that the Inquisitor and her team had departed Sahrnia, it filled him with crippling shame and anxiety. She shouldn't see him like this; he shouldn't see her like this. What if he did something, what if he hurt her? Surely, he wouldn't be that affected? He could reign in his darker impulses for a day until they destroyed the mine. Yet, there was a voice from deep within the shadows of his mind that was growing in boldness. Bolstered by the familiar essence soaking into his skin, the ugly visage of what he had once let himself become after the events of Kinloch and that which flourished in Kirkwall begged for confrontation - an idea he would not entertain.
Absorbed in his duty, he had his army running ragged in preparation, for time was not on their side - nor his. What would happen if he consumed too much? Would this set him back in his recovery from lyrium? Most certainly, but how much? Maker, the fallout from this would be excruciating...
"I want the number of guards on each rotation doubled. If Samson attacks, I want us to be ready to react. Dane's men will prepare to make the first assault on the mine at dusk tomorrow. Everyone else will be assigned to the guard rotation and the construction of the remaining defenses."
"Commander, how fares the good fight?" The Marcher's melodic intonation was carried to him on the stiff breeze.
Turning his head back to gaze at her, he couldn't help his smile seeing Evelyn ascend the stairs to the Command Tent but reigned it in quickly, standing to salute her with the rest of the soldiers. She was still wearing his gifted coat and gloves, which suited her well. "Inquisitor, I trust you are in good health?" He was relieved to not only have her back with him but that no old repulsions reared their ugly heads.
Evelyn smiled her polite Inquisitor grin, but there was a strain in her eyes, "As well as can be, thank you, Commander. What's the latest? You have quite the camp here."
Looking to his officers, he dismissed them having given them their orders. After explaining the significance of their position to her, he began his debriefing of their upcoming operation. "Our attack will be two-pronged. At dusk tomorrow, Knight-Captain Dane will take a sizable force to attack the mine. As you relayed to us, the Red Templars have trouble seeing in the dark, so our force will be comprised of our stealthier units. I've asked Owayne, Varric, Bull, and Scout Harding to assist with the endeavor. They will each command teams to sweep and clear the mine, without alerting the fort to the situation. Rocky and our dwarven allies will prime explosives to level the mine and time it as we begin our assault on the Keep in the morning with the main Inquisition force." Cullen couldn't help the bloodthirsty smirk on his face, relishing his coming victory, "Samson is cornered, I don't think he was expecting us to arrive with such numbers."
"Yet," the Inquisitor's face was seriously studying the map before her, and he noticed a bit of an unusual rasp to her voice, "if Corypheus' dragon shows up we could be in trouble. Erimond summoned it, what's to say Samson can't either?" Pointing with a finger, her eyes bore into him, "Our forces will be vulnerable here and here on the way to the fort."
"That's why this will need to be a hard and fast push into the Keep. It will be hard-fought, make no mistake, but the men are up to the job."
It didn't seem like she was listening to him. The way she slowly milled the idea around annoyed him more than it should. He had a plan; he did not need her to start picking it apart. "Perhaps, I can wound the dragon as I did at Adamant, but that is leaving a lot to chance." She squared her shoulders to him, but upon seeing his intense look, she balked back, eyeing him cautiously.
"Evelyn, we have Samson cornered. There is nowhere he can run. Dragon or no; Red Giants; Shadows, and whatever monstrosities he can throw at us be damned! Samson is right there!" He pounded his fist on the table causing his markers to jostle out of place.
After a minute she nodded her head, her squinting eyes searching for something in his, "You're right." Before she continued, she went to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shuttered and flinched away at her touch, "Oh, I'm... sorry?"
He sighed heavily, knowing sooner or later he would have to divulge his shame. With a resigned huff, he took a deep breath to calm his temper. "It's the red lyrium. Its effect is bleeding into me, making me feel as if I'm taking lyrium again. Your mana is..." He paused trying to think of something politer than prickling. "I'm just not used to feeling magic that strongly again. I apologize."
To his despair and frustration, Evelyn took two steps away from him, meeting his eyes with loving concern, yet he could not will his muscles to reflect the same warmth. "I'm probably the worst person for you to be around then. Will you be alright?"
"The sooner the mine is destroyed the better." He looked over at her noticing strange rolling waves coming over her. Her face paled, and he reached out instinctively for her despite the distance, "Evelyn--" Cullen was halted by a sudden retch as she emptied her stomach under the table. The glow of her core mana ignited, making it look like she was choking on lava.
"Shit," she said hoarsely standing and wiping her mouth. Her eyes were blazing orange as her mana was fully engaged, "I was hoping it'd be better up here. Stupid me." He tried to place a comforting hand on her, but her magical aura was so hot, he couldn't. Instead, his hand hovered awkwardly in the air as if bouncing off an invisible barrier. "I have not gone unaffected by its power either," she gasped for air, blinking up saying another curse under her breath. The two of them, separated by more than just a table, gazed into each other's weary eyes, wanting nothing more than to console the other.
Feeling as though they stared at each other for an eternity at a loss as to what to do, footsteps running up from behind them broke the trance. "Inquisitor?" It was the healer, Enchanter De Montfort, "I sensed trouble, and we came as quick as we could." On her heels was Sorin, bounding up the makeshift spiraling staircase they constructed. When their eyes fell upon her pulsing mana and puddle of vomit, concern creased their faces.
"Is it no better here, E?" The Phoenix shook her head at him unable to answer as she covered her mouth looking as if she'd be sick again. "Damn."
"Sorin, the fucking mine is right there. Of course, I'm not going to feel better." It seemed her sickness was grating on her spirits. "I didn't know it was that close to camp."
Observing quietly, Cullen noticed Sorin suffering from the telltale signs of a headache as well. He rubbed a hand down his face, "Maker willing, by tomorrow evening we'll be rid of it when we lay waste to the mine."
The Orlesian mage, gazed over at him pressing a hand to Evelyn's forehead, "I pray you're right, Commander. The other mages, myself included, aren't suffering nearly as bad as Evelyn and I fear what prolonged exposure will do to her." The Inquisitor shut her eyes tightly, seemingly trying to calm her mana, but was struggling to control it as it dimmed and brightened erratically. "It's most likely due to her having had it in her veins before."
The three of them and their magic was becoming insufferable, making him feel as if they were sucking up all the air in the bloody mountains. His fists clenched tight and he fought for control of his spiraling, but he couldn't think with their blabbering on about things not having to do with the upcoming operation or Samson. A darkness sprung up unexpectantly in him, bringing with it his repulsion of their combined mana. When a scout carrying the latest report of the quarry's defenses came, his tolerance for them ran out.
"If you all wouldn't mind," he bellowed over their discussion, "I have important preparations to see to before tomorrow, and your magic is a distraction. Remove yourselves from my Command Tent!" The Commander's voice fell harshly upon the mages and the three stared at him in a bit of shock. Glowering at them, he felt his power surging forth as it once had a year ago when magic threatened him. It was both familiar and alien; comforting and unstable.
"Come, Herald. I'll see to your comfort as you rest up for the operation. We should start with a tonic."
Not budging from her spot even with Miriam tugging on her arm, Evelyn's face was set like stone but the fire in her eyes burned into him. "No," she said with a haughty and arrogant tone, "I wish to hear the latest report. If you two would excuse us, surely the Inquisitor's presence alone does not bother you, Commander?"
He ignored her, setting his jaw and glaring straight ahead at a nondescript point on his map. As the other mages moved off, Sorin naturally couldn't leave without the last word, throwing a 'still an arse' at his back. To his surprise, it was the Orleasian who chastised him for his language.
"Your report," he ordered, barking at the nervous man who was looking between the two heads of the Inquisition with some apprehension. Listening to the scout, who swallowed a lump in his throat before beginning, Cullen realized his error. He needed to keep himself in check, this bleeding effect would not own him as lyrium once had. Once the update was complete, he thanked the soldier with a softened tone, which he could see visually granted the man some relief. When he was out of earshot, he blurted out, "Inquisitor-- I mean, Eve." She turned, her face looking at him unsure of who she was talking to, as if he were a stranger. The sight of her anger dissipating into fear was enough to sober him, for he never wished to give her reason to gaze at him like that again. Aware that they were in the middle of a bustling camp, he ignored the hum of her magic, and closed the gap to her, "Forgive me, I don't know what came over me."
Searching his eyes, she found he spoke true and the tension in her shoulders relaxed. Just as she was about to say something, it was interrupted by a sharp gasp, as the mark bit her and her mana surged forth again with a vengeance. Stumbling back away from him, she cried out for the Enchanter. She collapsed to the ground with ethereal flames rising from her limbs. He peered down over the camp and roared out another call for De Montfort. Thankfully, she was already being fade-stepped through the throng of soldiers by Sorin. Materializing in the tent, Miriam raced to the Inquisitor as Cyrus, having spent a lot of mana to get the healer there, joined his mentor on the floor of the tent while regaining his strength.
"That's it, I'm getting Solas!" Surprised that his voice could reach such a stressed and voluminous level, Sorin tried to push himself up, and Evelyn growled after him not to. Unsure of what was happening Cullen took a step toward her, but was halted by the Knight-Enchanter's hand as he passed, "Don't she'll burn you."
Evelyn was clearly not in control of herself, between her wild breathing and mana, the situation was becoming dangerous. "Why isn't there a Templar assisting her?!" He called to Miriam whose hands were glowing fiercely against the Phoenix's magic. His own weak power tried to shield him from her aura but was failing. It was so hot, he might as well have walked into a bake oven.
"It agitates her magic-- ow, even more!" The flames of the Phoenix licked up the Enchanter's hands and the familiar stench of burning skin accosted him. She whimpered and sucked her breath in through her teeth. "It'd only get worse!"
At the scene unfurling before him, something impulsive and instinctual went off inside him, readying a power he no longer possessed. Acting fast, he stepped forth and grabbed Evelyn's flaming hand releasing what would have been a mind-numbing Silence upon the Inquisitor if he had been at full strength. Locking eyes with Evelyn, there was an inner calm that using his old abilities touched, and by her reaction after seeing it in his eyes, it had transferred to her. His power whispered up her body like a soothing mist, quenching the flame roiling through her veins. The Phoenix let out a long breath of relief, though shocked by what he had done - as was he that it worked.
"Cullen..."
He saw the frantic look in her eyes and knelt beside her, still holding her wrist, "I told you, it's the bleeding effect, I feel like I'm taking it."
"But--"
"I know! I know..." He quickly added releasing her, and she finally relaxed. "I'm not sure why I was able to help you when the Templars who are actually taking it weren't. Perhaps, it has to do with its color..."
Catching onto his line of thought, she sat up, "If, what you did was caused by red lyrium, and my mana is craving it... and the Templars take the blue lyrium, then... you may be the only one who can help me." They stared at each other for a long moment, "Isn't that ironic?" She gave him a wan smile, but it only made him frown more.
"Remember when Dagna said she believes it's a living essence?" Shaking herself from the fog of her illness, her whole energetic countenance seemed to have been revived, looking at him attentively. "What if it 'knows' things?"
"Oh, it most certainly knows what it's doing! I've made deals with it. The last time was when Ryker stabbed me." Startled by this news, he shook his head having not heard this. "I told it that so long as it helped me defeat Ryker, it could have access to my mana and mark. But it would cease when we defeated him."
Forgetting where they were, his rage surfaced, causing him to scrunch his face in anger, "You-- you did what?! Maker's breath, Eve, what would possess you to give it so much?!"
"Revenge."
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