Cyrus sighed softly, the sound almost inaudible under the ambient sounds of the forest. He could hear very faintly the distant waterfall, the gentle hum of life in the Brecilian, but more prominent were the general quiet rustles and other signs of life from his compatriots. He knew they weren't doing it on purpose by any means, but everything seemed so loud to him; even the quietest stirring sent bolts of pain right to his head.
At least the whispers had stopped for now. He hadn't been able to shut them up for the longest time after drinking from the Well, and they only got worse when he tried to think about anything, offering unsolicited advice and information in half-comprehensible murmurs. Harellan had been right about one thing: if it weren't for all he already knew, he'd have had an impossible time trying to interpret any of it. But even like this, when his eyes were closed and his thoughts as still as he could get them, his head throbbed, not so easily ignored. It eased sometimes like ebb tide, only to rush back the moment something provoked them.
The bark against the back of his head was hard and a bit uncomfortable, but the ability to relax into something solid and doze was a welcome one after so many hours of travel. Brief, fragmentary dreams flickered across his consciousness, vague, shadowy scenes playing out over the back of his eyelids, but for the moment they were hazy, almost soporific. It would be a marvelous place to really let himself dream, he thought, full of history and tragedy and drama, but also more tranquil things. Things he honestly would have preferred right now. Old dreams mostly, but also new ones.
Cyrus wrapped his arms around himself, cracking his eyes open and letting them rest on the summer-green canopy. It wasn't just the potential dreams that called him to slumber: fatigue and the heat of the afternoon made it seem perfect for that kind of indolence. Too bad, then, that their task was urgent—and rather more painful to contemplate than any of the bloody history the fade might have shown him here. That was the thing about being personally involved, he supposed.
Sitting up more properly, he surveyed their little gathering. Vesryn and Stellulam had yet to return from wherever they'd wandered off to, but he wasn't about to go and try to find them. Khari had fallen fast asleep under another tree, sprawled out with an enviable lassitude. He wondered for a humorous moment if the Lord Inquisitor minded waking up with her limbs thrown about him. It seemed unlikely. Harellan had seated himself on a relatively flat stone; smoke curled lazily from the end of the wooden pipe in his mouth. It smelled like a lighter blend, something with a bit of refreshment to it. His eyes shifted momentarily to Cyrus when he moved, but didn't linger, and he returned his attention to the forest's interior. The slight haziness of his expression was about the only evidence that his mind wandered something other than the scene immediately before them. Astraia stood for the moment, feeding her halla something out of the palm of her hand. She spoke to him in hushed tones, barely audible. Stellulam had a habit of speaking to animals as well, but it was likely that Athim actually understood whatever Astraia was telling him.
With a small frown, Cyrus rubbed at his temples, then stood, brushing detritus from his clothes and electing to see to the horses. They'd be moving again soon, but for the moment he'd let everyone rest a little longer.
When Stellulam and Vesryn returned, they were damp from head to toe. It seemed the nearby waterfall had been their destination, and that they'd gone in it rather than admire it from the shore. It was obvious to everyone that whatever had happened there was entirely personal.
"Sorry to push you all even more, but we should get moving," Vesryn said, taking his weight off of Stellulam and putting it on his horse instead, so she could get her leathers and gear back on. Understandably the group didn't have the most energy by this point, but the fact that this was the last stretch of the journey undoubtably helped.
"It's all right," Astraia assured him, already astride Athim. "We know how important this is."
"Much appreciated." His eyes settled on the halla for a moment. "Might be better to leave the mounts here. Terrain gets pretty tricky up ahead. This spot is safe, but we'll have to navigate some sylvans and spider nests ahead. Might need to move quickly."
“Dammit." The curse, low and almost inaudible, was Khari's, coinciding with the mention of spiders. Come to think of it, he remembered something about that—of all the things she could face down utterly dauntlessly, apparently giant, eight-legged arachnid monstrosities were not among them. Actually it wasn't totally unreasonable when put in those terms.
Astraia seemed confused, but she dropped lightly back to the ground anyway. "Wouldn't that be easier when mounted?"
"Maybe for Athim, but the horses will struggle a bit more. And besides, in my case it will be safest if I can stay within arm's reach of Stel." Her mark would certainly allow them to travel quickly together if they needed. Having horses underneath them would needlessly complicate things.
Khari's fear, if that was indeed the cause of her moment of reluctance, did not slow the group's forward progress, even if she did keep her sword outside the scabbard and in one hand, the deep green of the blade occasionally catching patches of sun as they moved through the denser parts of the forest. It was not so complete a canopy as the that of the gigantic trees in the Emerald Graves or the even more massive ones near the center of Arlathan, nor were the trunks so dense as in the Arbor Wilds, but it was an impressive forest in its own way, deep and quiet.
Occasionally, Cyrus could make out pieces of rubble about, more intentional than anything accidentally left or disposed of by the Dalish. Overgrown pieces of foundation, or more often loose and crumbling pale stone, nearly fully reclaimed by the ground. But that which was built by the greatest civilization there ever was would not so easily disappear entirely, and stubborn traces of ages long past remained for the keen observer. The voices in the back of his head murmured, occasionally deigning to offer up a comprehensible tidbit of information on architecture or the location in particular; he noted absently that they seemed to be satisfied when he took heed of them, and receded, though there were so many that he doubted he could parse them all given years to try.
Khari stiffened first, aware of something that took the rest of them a moment to catch. But then it was obvious: movement, from deeper within. What started quietly grew loud enough to spear more pain into his temples, and Cyrus hissed softly. Something was approaching—and it wasn't being subtle.
The arcane blade was quicker to his hands than it ever had been—no doubt the result of Harellan's task-mastery.
It soon became clear that it was several somethings, and judging by the conflicting sounds—a low, aggravated growling mixed with several higher-pitched squeals—those somethings were in conflict with one another.
The source became clear enough in a moment, when a massive creature blasted its way through the trees, quite literally shattering the trunks of anything in its way with a club half as long as those trees themselves. It didn't take long for the sick feeling to wash over Cyrus and no doubt all of the mages with them, the origin of that feeling being of course the red that covered what they faced. It was the giant, the poor corrupted creature that they'd encountered in Kirkwall and again in Emprise du Lion. Of all the places it could have ended up, it chose the solitude of this forest. Solitude which was apparently disturbed.
A small swarm of giant spiders gripped it at various points, clinging to its arms and legs, while the largest of them climbed up its back. It grabbed one with its free hand, flinging it sideways against a tree. They were frustratingly quick, difficult for the slow-moving giant to deal with.
Slow though it was, it would cross their path soon, and then they'd have both of them to deal with. Not something they'd want to manage while they had to look after someone as weak as Vesryn.
The best option was running, a consensus that most everyone seemed to come to without consultation. Tsking, Cyrus stepped through the fade, putting himself between the oncoming dangers and Vesryn and Stellulam, who would probably need to help him move. Harellan did the same, and Khari took point, dashing forward with her blade trailing behind her.
They weren't going to make it past fast enough to avoid a near collision, so Cyrus took a chance, flinging several needle-sized flecks of ice towards the whole lot. He couldn't risk using fire, not in a forest that would burn all too readily. As he'd aimed, they hit the ground, bursting forward in jagged spikes that blocked the path of the oncoming giant. No doubt a creature so massive could plow through even that if necessary, but it would take more time, hopefully enough for them to get clear.
Ahead, Khari shouted something unintelligible; another cluster of spiders had burst forth from the opposite side just in front of her. Bringing her sword around, she cleaved down into the first one, splitting its many-eyed head in two. Harellan's lightning followed, chaining into several and dropping those it touched, but there was a small swarm, and they were still oncoming, closing rapidly over the path Khari was trying to form through them. Tremors in the ground and a heavy crack signaled that the unfortunate lyrium giant was breaking through the ice just behind, too.
There were too many spiders for Khari to occupy all at once, and the first one through met a powerful bolt of spirit magic from Astraia, blasting it back where it had come from. The second reached her before she could ready another spell, but she quickly backstepped and slashed down with her staff, slicing the ends of its two front legs off as it missed its leap. Wailing, it leaped again, only to find itself impaled on the staff next. Astraia pulled her weapon free, looking a little surprised with herself as she checked on Vesryn and Stellulam's progress.
Meanwhile, the giant had managed to get its hands on the biggest spider, and it forcefully pierced it with one of the ice spikes in its path. The club smash of frustration that followed utterly squished the beast, but shattered the ice as well, clearing the path to their group. A huge stonefist flew in the opening, formed quickly from the end of Astraia's staff, and smashed into the giant's chest, at least slowing it down a little. She looked focused, determined, even if she was almost certainly afraid. A far cry from how she'd first come to them.
"Stel, get ahead!" she called. "We'll be right behind you."
It was advice that Stellulam took readily, wrapping one steady arm around Vesryn's waist. The mark on her free hand crackled to life, shrouding them in a hazy green shimmer that Cyrus by now recognized well. They took two steps together, putting them quite far ahead of the others, before the light faded, indicating that the Anchor had cooperated as far as it was going to for the moment, at least.
It occurred quite suddenly to Cyrus what they ought to do next. Not even a whisper from one of the voices, just... realization. Like something remembered rather than something learned. “Your left! There's a staircase!" Down, recessed into what had once been a hallway but was now—well, he wasn't sure. Whomever he'd inherited this knowledge from had doubtless died long before the place had fallen into this state of ruin.
Returning his attention to the fight in front of them, he sent another chain lightning into the spiders ahead, finally allowing Khari to plow through to the other side. Harellan was throwing more ice, this aimed directly at the giant's joints, slowing rather than outright stopping him. Humming, Cyrus pulled a pair of barriers to himself and set them up where Khari had been a moment before, pushing them apart with a gesture. A path through the swarm, at least for a little while. “Go!" He gestured sharply with his head, holding the barriers until Astraia and Harellan were both through. The spiders were already crawling around the obstruction by the time he pulled himself through the fade again, nearly tripping over one of them in his haste to be past.
The jump came up shorter than he was expecting. A step forward told him why; there was a flare of pain in his right leg. A bloody gash had opened up just above his knee on the outside; the greenish fluid commingling with his blood suggested one of the spiders. The burning suggested acid or some kind of corrosive poison. Hardly enough time to deal with it now; he hopped back into a lopsided run, setting his teeth so as not to bite his tongue. Crashing sounded behind him, each splintering tree a little closer than the last. Pulling in a deep breath, Cyrus pushed his limbs harder, veering sharply to the left and half-running, half-falling down the stairs. He landed with a heavy thud and a pained grunt at the bottom, grabbing onto the open doorway to more or less pull himself the last few meters to safety.
The door thudded shut behind him, and just in time. Thunderous bangs and crumbling stone were evidence enough of what the giant was doing behind them.
At least the whispers had stopped for now. He hadn't been able to shut them up for the longest time after drinking from the Well, and they only got worse when he tried to think about anything, offering unsolicited advice and information in half-comprehensible murmurs. Harellan had been right about one thing: if it weren't for all he already knew, he'd have had an impossible time trying to interpret any of it. But even like this, when his eyes were closed and his thoughts as still as he could get them, his head throbbed, not so easily ignored. It eased sometimes like ebb tide, only to rush back the moment something provoked them.
The bark against the back of his head was hard and a bit uncomfortable, but the ability to relax into something solid and doze was a welcome one after so many hours of travel. Brief, fragmentary dreams flickered across his consciousness, vague, shadowy scenes playing out over the back of his eyelids, but for the moment they were hazy, almost soporific. It would be a marvelous place to really let himself dream, he thought, full of history and tragedy and drama, but also more tranquil things. Things he honestly would have preferred right now. Old dreams mostly, but also new ones.
Cyrus wrapped his arms around himself, cracking his eyes open and letting them rest on the summer-green canopy. It wasn't just the potential dreams that called him to slumber: fatigue and the heat of the afternoon made it seem perfect for that kind of indolence. Too bad, then, that their task was urgent—and rather more painful to contemplate than any of the bloody history the fade might have shown him here. That was the thing about being personally involved, he supposed.
Sitting up more properly, he surveyed their little gathering. Vesryn and Stellulam had yet to return from wherever they'd wandered off to, but he wasn't about to go and try to find them. Khari had fallen fast asleep under another tree, sprawled out with an enviable lassitude. He wondered for a humorous moment if the Lord Inquisitor minded waking up with her limbs thrown about him. It seemed unlikely. Harellan had seated himself on a relatively flat stone; smoke curled lazily from the end of the wooden pipe in his mouth. It smelled like a lighter blend, something with a bit of refreshment to it. His eyes shifted momentarily to Cyrus when he moved, but didn't linger, and he returned his attention to the forest's interior. The slight haziness of his expression was about the only evidence that his mind wandered something other than the scene immediately before them. Astraia stood for the moment, feeding her halla something out of the palm of her hand. She spoke to him in hushed tones, barely audible. Stellulam had a habit of speaking to animals as well, but it was likely that Athim actually understood whatever Astraia was telling him.
With a small frown, Cyrus rubbed at his temples, then stood, brushing detritus from his clothes and electing to see to the horses. They'd be moving again soon, but for the moment he'd let everyone rest a little longer.
When Stellulam and Vesryn returned, they were damp from head to toe. It seemed the nearby waterfall had been their destination, and that they'd gone in it rather than admire it from the shore. It was obvious to everyone that whatever had happened there was entirely personal.
"Sorry to push you all even more, but we should get moving," Vesryn said, taking his weight off of Stellulam and putting it on his horse instead, so she could get her leathers and gear back on. Understandably the group didn't have the most energy by this point, but the fact that this was the last stretch of the journey undoubtably helped.
"It's all right," Astraia assured him, already astride Athim. "We know how important this is."
"Much appreciated." His eyes settled on the halla for a moment. "Might be better to leave the mounts here. Terrain gets pretty tricky up ahead. This spot is safe, but we'll have to navigate some sylvans and spider nests ahead. Might need to move quickly."
“Dammit." The curse, low and almost inaudible, was Khari's, coinciding with the mention of spiders. Come to think of it, he remembered something about that—of all the things she could face down utterly dauntlessly, apparently giant, eight-legged arachnid monstrosities were not among them. Actually it wasn't totally unreasonable when put in those terms.
Astraia seemed confused, but she dropped lightly back to the ground anyway. "Wouldn't that be easier when mounted?"
"Maybe for Athim, but the horses will struggle a bit more. And besides, in my case it will be safest if I can stay within arm's reach of Stel." Her mark would certainly allow them to travel quickly together if they needed. Having horses underneath them would needlessly complicate things.
Khari's fear, if that was indeed the cause of her moment of reluctance, did not slow the group's forward progress, even if she did keep her sword outside the scabbard and in one hand, the deep green of the blade occasionally catching patches of sun as they moved through the denser parts of the forest. It was not so complete a canopy as the that of the gigantic trees in the Emerald Graves or the even more massive ones near the center of Arlathan, nor were the trunks so dense as in the Arbor Wilds, but it was an impressive forest in its own way, deep and quiet.
Occasionally, Cyrus could make out pieces of rubble about, more intentional than anything accidentally left or disposed of by the Dalish. Overgrown pieces of foundation, or more often loose and crumbling pale stone, nearly fully reclaimed by the ground. But that which was built by the greatest civilization there ever was would not so easily disappear entirely, and stubborn traces of ages long past remained for the keen observer. The voices in the back of his head murmured, occasionally deigning to offer up a comprehensible tidbit of information on architecture or the location in particular; he noted absently that they seemed to be satisfied when he took heed of them, and receded, though there were so many that he doubted he could parse them all given years to try.
Khari stiffened first, aware of something that took the rest of them a moment to catch. But then it was obvious: movement, from deeper within. What started quietly grew loud enough to spear more pain into his temples, and Cyrus hissed softly. Something was approaching—and it wasn't being subtle.
The arcane blade was quicker to his hands than it ever had been—no doubt the result of Harellan's task-mastery.
It soon became clear that it was several somethings, and judging by the conflicting sounds—a low, aggravated growling mixed with several higher-pitched squeals—those somethings were in conflict with one another.
The source became clear enough in a moment, when a massive creature blasted its way through the trees, quite literally shattering the trunks of anything in its way with a club half as long as those trees themselves. It didn't take long for the sick feeling to wash over Cyrus and no doubt all of the mages with them, the origin of that feeling being of course the red that covered what they faced. It was the giant, the poor corrupted creature that they'd encountered in Kirkwall and again in Emprise du Lion. Of all the places it could have ended up, it chose the solitude of this forest. Solitude which was apparently disturbed.
A small swarm of giant spiders gripped it at various points, clinging to its arms and legs, while the largest of them climbed up its back. It grabbed one with its free hand, flinging it sideways against a tree. They were frustratingly quick, difficult for the slow-moving giant to deal with.
Slow though it was, it would cross their path soon, and then they'd have both of them to deal with. Not something they'd want to manage while they had to look after someone as weak as Vesryn.
The best option was running, a consensus that most everyone seemed to come to without consultation. Tsking, Cyrus stepped through the fade, putting himself between the oncoming dangers and Vesryn and Stellulam, who would probably need to help him move. Harellan did the same, and Khari took point, dashing forward with her blade trailing behind her.
They weren't going to make it past fast enough to avoid a near collision, so Cyrus took a chance, flinging several needle-sized flecks of ice towards the whole lot. He couldn't risk using fire, not in a forest that would burn all too readily. As he'd aimed, they hit the ground, bursting forward in jagged spikes that blocked the path of the oncoming giant. No doubt a creature so massive could plow through even that if necessary, but it would take more time, hopefully enough for them to get clear.
Ahead, Khari shouted something unintelligible; another cluster of spiders had burst forth from the opposite side just in front of her. Bringing her sword around, she cleaved down into the first one, splitting its many-eyed head in two. Harellan's lightning followed, chaining into several and dropping those it touched, but there was a small swarm, and they were still oncoming, closing rapidly over the path Khari was trying to form through them. Tremors in the ground and a heavy crack signaled that the unfortunate lyrium giant was breaking through the ice just behind, too.
There were too many spiders for Khari to occupy all at once, and the first one through met a powerful bolt of spirit magic from Astraia, blasting it back where it had come from. The second reached her before she could ready another spell, but she quickly backstepped and slashed down with her staff, slicing the ends of its two front legs off as it missed its leap. Wailing, it leaped again, only to find itself impaled on the staff next. Astraia pulled her weapon free, looking a little surprised with herself as she checked on Vesryn and Stellulam's progress.
Meanwhile, the giant had managed to get its hands on the biggest spider, and it forcefully pierced it with one of the ice spikes in its path. The club smash of frustration that followed utterly squished the beast, but shattered the ice as well, clearing the path to their group. A huge stonefist flew in the opening, formed quickly from the end of Astraia's staff, and smashed into the giant's chest, at least slowing it down a little. She looked focused, determined, even if she was almost certainly afraid. A far cry from how she'd first come to them.
"Stel, get ahead!" she called. "We'll be right behind you."
It was advice that Stellulam took readily, wrapping one steady arm around Vesryn's waist. The mark on her free hand crackled to life, shrouding them in a hazy green shimmer that Cyrus by now recognized well. They took two steps together, putting them quite far ahead of the others, before the light faded, indicating that the Anchor had cooperated as far as it was going to for the moment, at least.
It occurred quite suddenly to Cyrus what they ought to do next. Not even a whisper from one of the voices, just... realization. Like something remembered rather than something learned. “Your left! There's a staircase!" Down, recessed into what had once been a hallway but was now—well, he wasn't sure. Whomever he'd inherited this knowledge from had doubtless died long before the place had fallen into this state of ruin.
Returning his attention to the fight in front of them, he sent another chain lightning into the spiders ahead, finally allowing Khari to plow through to the other side. Harellan was throwing more ice, this aimed directly at the giant's joints, slowing rather than outright stopping him. Humming, Cyrus pulled a pair of barriers to himself and set them up where Khari had been a moment before, pushing them apart with a gesture. A path through the swarm, at least for a little while. “Go!" He gestured sharply with his head, holding the barriers until Astraia and Harellan were both through. The spiders were already crawling around the obstruction by the time he pulled himself through the fade again, nearly tripping over one of them in his haste to be past.
The jump came up shorter than he was expecting. A step forward told him why; there was a flare of pain in his right leg. A bloody gash had opened up just above his knee on the outside; the greenish fluid commingling with his blood suggested one of the spiders. The burning suggested acid or some kind of corrosive poison. Hardly enough time to deal with it now; he hopped back into a lopsided run, setting his teeth so as not to bite his tongue. Crashing sounded behind him, each splintering tree a little closer than the last. Pulling in a deep breath, Cyrus pushed his limbs harder, veering sharply to the left and half-running, half-falling down the stairs. He landed with a heavy thud and a pained grunt at the bottom, grabbing onto the open doorway to more or less pull himself the last few meters to safety.
The door thudded shut behind him, and just in time. Thunderous bangs and crumbling stone were evidence enough of what the giant was doing behind them.