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For as long as he could remember, Cayd had been crept out by the statue in the village square. It was terrifying on its own, as its mass alone would be enough to crush someone underneath it if it were to be toppled over. Or if it decided to topple over.
Cayd shuddered. He wouldn’t be its first casualty and once it had renewed its cravings for blood, he certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Not that he had actually seen it move. No one had in recent years, and the rumours about its more active past were dismissed as just that – mere rumours. Yet, it was only a matter of time until it would wake up again, powered by the anger it radiated; though that was a conviction he wouldn’t talk about. Avery teased him enough as it were, and everyone else seemed less concerned about the possible carnage looming over all of them.
Yet, he kept to the outer part of the path as he walked through the village, merely skirting the square when he absolutely had to. He couldn’t ever shake the feeling of being watched, though. A silly feeling, of course, but that was more easily said indoors. He clutched the parcel tightly against his chest and picked up the pace. If only his mother listened to his pleas to move, as a seamstress as skilled as her would easily find work anywhere, but she would have none of it.
He should have left with the others; like Tiff, who now apprenticed under a wandering merchant; or Cullen, who joined the templars. When one after the other moved to make their fortune elsewhere, Cayd and Avery stayed. And the next time a recruiter passed through Honnleath, he would be the last one stuck here. With a sigh, he kicked pieces of gravel out of his way.
Cayd caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and froze. The square was empty, he knew it had been when he began his errand. He always checked. Slowly he turned his head towards the movement, all the while digging his nails into the lambskin scraps the parcel was wrapped in.
Only then, he heard the cooing from the village centre, and noticed the small flock of pigeons fluttering around the statue’s head.
He exhaled with a huff, looking around again to make sure no one has witnessed him making a fool out of himself once again. His gaze landed on the statue and he paused. For a moment, its eyes flickered, as if it was annoyed.
Or did they?
He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. His jumpiness was getting the better of him, and he was seeing things. It had to be. Because though he loathed being ridiculed for fearing the statue, he desperately wanted to be wrong. Especially now, where he would be the first one to experience its wrath.
And if he was right – he only hoped it would be over quickly. If the rumours were to be believed, Wilhelm didn’t have to suffer for long, either.
Within a few strides, he was at the house he needed to be and rapped at the door. He shifted his weight as he waited for an answer. Would it be too much to ask to be let in for a simple drop off?
Cayd hadn’t yet come to a conclusion, as the door finally opened. A woman with thick, blond curls appeared in the opening. She smiled widely. “Cayd! It’s good to see you.”
“Hi Mia.” He returned her smile in kind. Her warmth helped hide away his worries. “Mum’s done with the tunics for the boys. Extra strong fabric so it won’t rip as easily this time.” He awkwardly smooths out the wrinkles in the soft leather wrapping, before he hands the bundle over. There were still imprints where he clawed his nails into it.
“You two are truly lifesavers!” Something behind her crashed, and she winced, before she took the parcel out of his hands. She was still smiling, but Cayd noticed the dark shadows under her eyes. “So much time I would’ve spent mending clothes I can now use for–” another crash interrupted her, and she dropped her head “–cleaning up, I presume. Could you wait here a second?” Mia didn’t wait for his answer, instead disappeared behind the door.
Furniture was dragged across the floor, or so it sounded, and he heard Mia exchange a few words, though she spoke to softly to make out what she was saying. Cayd idly shifted his weight onto his other leg and rolled his shoulders. There was still a bit of tension left from his earlier scare, and the thought of it brought it right back. He chanced a glance over his shoulder; the statue still stood in the square, with only two pigeons perching on its head and left arm. Nothing else moved.
“Here you go.”
Cayd turned back to Mia’s outstretched hand. Without thinking, he offered his palm, catching the three copper pieces she dropped into it. He stared at the coins dumbfoundedly. “Uhm, Mum said you already paid, so–“
“It’s a small thanks, for bringing the tunics over.” She reached out and tousled his hair. “And give my sincerest thanks to your Mum. Seriously. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
“Sure, sure.” He pocketed the coins. He had been saving up for the next time a merchant would stop by; Avery had been badgering him to get a new dagger to replace his knife, and maybe he could get some new fabric samples to surprise his mother with. “Thanks. Uhm, by the way, have you heard any news lately?”
He kept it deliberately vague, but she would know what he meant. It had been bothering him that he hadn’t heard anything from her brother since he had left years ago. He still considered him his friend, though, and he liked to think that the feeling was mutual.
Mia’s smile instantly turned forced, and any trace of warmth left her eyes. He swore inwardly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–“
“No, it’s fine.” She ran her hand through her hair. “I haven’t heard from him. Cullen hasn’t answered any of my last couple of letters. Maker, I don’t even know if he’s received them. And I don’t know what’s worse.”
“Don’t worry!” The words tumbled out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. “Avery and I will drag him out of whatever hole he had dug himself into and make him write you back, once we’ve become adventurers.”
He tried to sound way more chipper than he actually was, and he meant it. If he ever dared to leave the village, that was. And though he was known to be as easily startled as a newborn deer, his effort at sounding brave was enough to help Mia regain her composure.
“I know you will,” she said quietly, before she pulled him into a tight hug. Only when he awkwardly patted her back, she released him. “You take care of yourself, you hear?”
In his best attempt at Avery’s carefree bravado, he grinned and waved. It did the trick; Mia’s laugh floated through the door before she closed it. He turned and, after another fearful glance towards the statue, began to make his way back home.
If only he was brave enough to follow through on his boast. Being an adventurer sounded great, until he got to the part of the adventuring. He had been sparring with Avery the last couple of months, and he had really improved to hold his own for longer than two swipes. Not nearly enough to survive on his own outside of Honnleath, but it was a start. But where Avery would rush without so much as the blink of an eye towards anything vaguely dangerous, Cayd would hide. Or run. Or freeze. He sighed. He couldn’t even hold his own against a statue that wasn’t doing anything, so how could he expect to leave the village anytime soon? His own shadow would scare him to death, and there were worse things roaming the wilds outside the village bounds.
A hand clasped his shoulder, and he yelped. His hands shot down to his belt, only to realise that he had left his dagger at home. Of course he had; he only geared up if Avery made him go patrolling together. If he got out of this, he would never make that mistake again.
“Relax.” Avery chuckled behind him, before the hand on his shoulder lifted again. “I’m not the statue.”
“I didn’t think that!” Cayd spun around to glare at him; his heart was still beating in his throat at three times its regular pace. “And I told you to stop sneaking up on me!”
Avery didn’t bother pretending remorse. His brown eyes twinkled with mischief. “And I told you to lose that nervousness if you ever want to get out of here.”
“I might, if you would stop hassling me all the time.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Avery waved dismissively. “You’ll thank me one day. I’m doing this all to make you stronger, you know that. And until you are, you’ll have to be more vigilant. It’s as simple as that.” He draped his arm around Cayd’s neck, and drew him in. “I’ll make a proper adventurer out of you, you just wait.”
“You are one to talk.” Cayd squirmed in his friend’s grip to free himself and rubbed his neck; although he wasn’t nearly as strong as Avery, he was nimbler. He started walking again. “Who has made you the leader of the adventurers’ guild?”
“Well, someone’s got to do it, and I don’t see you stepping up any time soon.” He paused briefly, his confident demeanour shifting to puzzlement. “Or did something happen? Don’t tell me you changed your mind.”
Cayd sighed. “No, no. You’re right. It’s just–“ His voice trailed off. Nothing had changed, and that was the problem. The two of them had been spinning tales about becoming heroes ever since they were little, but while Avery had taken any chance to prove himself and become a better fighter, the only thing Cayd had improved in was excuses. No, he couldn’t go hunt with him because he had sprained his ankle; no, he couldn’t practise today because his mother wasn’t well; no, he couldn’t join him on a drill because he really had to finish the embroidery on the mayor’s shirt this afternoon. If he was as evasive in battle as he was with words, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Unfortunately, he had come to realise he wasn’t. But how could he tell his best friend, who had always tried his best to support him throughout the years?
Instead, he shrugged. “It’s nothing.” He could tell from Avery’s expression that his dismissal wasn’t convincing, so he tried changing the subject. “You’ve got plans for later?”
“Not really.” Avery brushed dust from his shoulder and flashed a smile. “I already ran my drills this morning, and my parents don’t need my help today. I was hoping you had anything in mind we could do?”
Cayd shook his head and stopped, having arrived at his home. “I need to run another errand for Mum later. You can join me if you want, but it’s just a trip to Hainer’s.”
“Good enough, and we can still figure something out afterwards. I’ll quickly tell my parents and come over?”
“See you then.” Cayd waved at him and pushed open the door.
The workshop was deserted, and he frowned. The usual clutter was strewn across the several tables and workbenches; needles and fabric scraps and yet to finish projects covered nearly any surface in the room. But his mother was nowhere to be seen. Odd. She was never not here.
“Mum? I’m back.”
He sidestepped the frilly dress that his Mum was touching up on for Amalia’s birthday, and tried to recall when he had last seen the workshop this empty and quiet. He had often brought down food as his mother often forgot to eat during work; or blankets, as she occasionally fell asleep on top of piles of fabric.
Maybe someone had finally dragged her out for lunch. It was only a matter of time, with her having missed many of the recent gatherings. A capital offense to be quickly rectified, as far as Honnleath’s tightly knit community was concerned. Which was a good thing – though his mother was reclusive, and her mind was occasionally absent, she did enjoy company, and he wasn’t always around to be with her. He grabbed a partly unravelled spool of yarn and placed it on the table, before he made his way upstairs. But they could at least have help clean up first.
Halfway up the flight of stairs, he heard voices. At the final step, he realised they were arguing. Cayd tiptoed through the vestibule, following the sound of the voices towards the kitchen.
“I’m sorry, Duncan, but I won’t change my mind. Don’t ask that of me.”
Cayd pushed his surprise at his mother’s clarity aside to dissect that later, and pressed his ear against the door, but he still didn’t understand the response.
“Good. I know – of course. You wouldn’t ask if you had other options. But he’s still a child.”
Unwilling to wait further, he knocked, and he walked in. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, my dear.” His mother sat at the table, one hand smoothing an errand strand of dark-blond hair, the other drumming on the tabletop. A half-smile was plastered on her face, though it didn’t reach her eyes.
Across from her, a man – Duncan, he supposed – leaned against the wall; his tense expression betrayed his relaxed stance. He was well groomed, but weirdly out of place. Not least because his armour was not of local make. Cayd’s mother was the only seamstress in this area, and the only one with that level of skill all the way to Denerim.
“This is Duncan, an old… friend.”
Duncan smiles, and inclined his head. If he had thought the pause as uncomfortable as Cayd did, he hid it well. Instead, he broke away from the wall.
Cayd smiled back. He hadn’t been aware of any relations his mother had outside of Honnleath. It had never occurred to him to ask, but naively assumed that all she had ever done was tailoring clothes. Given how little they had actually talked over the last couple of years, he wondered; what else didn’t he know about his own mother?
“As it happens, he was just about to leave.” Cayd didn’t miss the look she gave her guest. Neither did he miss how Duncan met and held her gaze.
Sighing, she looked away first. “Maybe you could show him out, Cayd?” She took a piece of vellum from the table and began sketching something. To her, Duncan seemed already gone. “And remember to pick up leather for me, would you? Hainer promised he would be done tanning today.”
“Sure, mum.” Cayd smiled and gestured towards the door behind him. “If you would?”
He led Duncan back down into the workshop. They both stayed silent, though Cayd couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Duncan. His armour had been crafted extremely well – he had spent enough time with Avery at his parents smithy to recognise quality work – and he went through the different professions he knew that both required and could afford a set of such armour. But he came up dry; templars had a sword emblazoned on their chest plate, not a griffin; and the Redcliffe city guard was clad in brown and red leathers instead of vibrant, dark blue linen.
“Can I help you?”
Cayd winced. He didn’t notice his glance had become a stare as he had marvelled over the fine stitching along the cuffs. Duncan didn’t seem to mind. He smiled kindly.
A blush crept up Cayd’s neck and heated up his ears. “I – uh. I was just admiring your armour.” There was no sense in trying to cover it up. And it was a really well-made suit. “I’ve never seen anything like it around here,” he added lamely.
“Ah.” Duncan’s expression stayed calm. “There are only few Grey Wardens in Ferelden.”
He stated it so matter-of-factly, like that would explain it. Cayd wracked his brain, trying to remember if he had ever heard of those Wardens before. He came up blank, though he felt like he should know about them. He mumbled an apology regardless and let Duncan out without so much as a farewell.
Maybe Cayd should have asked more questions about those Grey Wardens. Duncan seemed like an adventurer to him, and kind enough to humour him.
“Who was that guy?” Avery stepped through the doorway, his big sword now strapped across his back.
Cayd blinked; the short encounter had rattled him enough to forget his task. He quickly grabbed his dagger from a shelf next to the door, before he pushed Avery outside. “A friend of my mother’s.”
“Huh.” Avery fell in step next to him, down the path towards the village entrance. “Didn’t recognise him.”
Cayd only shrugged, and his friend took the hint. They walked the rest of the way in silence.
He smelled the tannery before he saw it; as there was not even a small breeze, the stench hung around the vicinity like a dense cloud. Avery groaned beside him, and Cayd huffed a laugh under his breath.
“Hainer? My mum sends me.”
Usually, Hainer would bring the goods, as he was well aware of the lingering fumes, but there was no reaction to Cayd’s call. Exchanging a quick glance with Avery, he walked closer. “Hainer?”
They walked around the house and knocked, but still no reaction. He eventually peered through the cloudy windows, to find the inside abandoned.
“Maybe he’s out.” Avery coughs dramatically after they had walked a few paces away. “There could be Council stuff today, not sure.”
Cayd rolled his eyes. Council sessions tended to take eternities, especially if one of the members was needed elsewhere. And Murray was notoriously choleric when interrupted with no good reason; more often than not even if the reason was very good. “And where am I supposed to get the leather from, now?”
“Hm.” Avery scratched his chin absent-mindedly. “We could go hunt– no, hear me out! I know that won’t get you leather immediately, but I’ve heard there is a herd of rams nearby and we could trade their skins once he gets back? And we could get ourselves some chops, if there are some younger ones.”
Cayd hesitated. Knowing his luck, Hainer would return the moment they left Honnleath. Then again, if they stayed, they would most likely wait until late that night. He shrugged. “Then let’s go hunting.”
***
Whoever had told Avery about the rams had been lying. Cayd and him had spent the better part of three hours scouring the surrounding plains for tracks, and they had yet to be successful. What a waste of time. But while Cayd was ready to call it a day and return to Honnleath, Avery seemed to enjoy every second they spent crawling through the soft grass.
Cayd brushed his knuckles across his cheeks. His mother still needed leather, and even if the Maker Himself showed them the way to the rams, they wouldn’t have any. Maybe Hainer had returned by now. He sighed. Maybe they still had a bolt of leather stored away. He should have checked.
“I think we should go back,” Cayd said for the umpteenth time. “I don’t think there are any rams for us to find out here.”
For the umpteenth time, Avery brushed him off. “You only say that because you are scared of having to fight. But don’t worry. Rams are less hardy than druffalos. And less heavy.”
“Very funny.” Cayd’s rips still hurt at the mention alone.
“And besides, I was really looking forward to eating mutton tonight. Do you want to leave empty-handed, if we could–”
Cayd looked over when Avery wouldn’t finish his sentence, just in time to watch the otherwise ever-present grin die on his lips. He pointed over Cayd’s shoulder.
“Darkspawn!”
Rolling his eyes, Cayd forced his lips into a grin. He might be gullible, and easily frightened, but this prank was too obvious for even him to fall for it. “Again, very funny. Let’s just go home, alright?”
But Avery was rooted to the ground, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere behind him. If Cayd didn’t know better, he would have thought him thoroughly shocked.
Fine. If he was so determined to go through with whatever it was he was planning, Cayd wouldn’t stop him. Instead, he steeled himself. He wouldn’t let himself be surprised by such a sloppy set up. And he slowly turned around.
Any thought of a prank immediately vanished from his mind.
The creature was only a few paces away from them – close enough for him to curse himself for not noticing it earlier – and it was hideous.
Mismatching, broken and rusty pieces of armour did little to conceal the rotting flesh underneath, and malformed claws stuck out of a pair of ripped gloves. And, Maker, it’s face! Splintered teeth forced themselves out of a lipless maw, and milky eyes bulged out of their sockets, while greyish, papery skin stretched across the skull.
Cayd had heard of darkspawn before, but only as mindless foes from old tales and bedtime stories; the kind of creature to scare children into behaving, or they would snatch them up and carry them into the Deep Roads. Never in his darkest dreams would he have thought to encounter one.
The darkspawn cocked its head, almost as if it was thinking – Maker! Can those creatures think? – and then it screeched.
It was a noise unlike anything Cayd has heard before and pierced his ears like needles. He dropped to his knees, hands covering his ears in the vain attempt to keep the sound out.
“We’ve got to run!”
Avery’s words barely made it through the noise, and Cayd only whimpered. The darkspawn was still screeching.
Avery grabbed his shoulder and pulled him up again. “Let’s move!” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Cayd’s arm and dragged him; Cayd stumbled to keep up. And abruptly crashed into Avery’s back as he stopped.
Two more darkspawn blocked their way, baring their teeth and swaying back in forth.
If only they had stayed in Honnleath.
Cayd swallowed dryly. If they made it back in one piece, he would seriously turn his life around. He would be a better son, and a better apprentice, and he would never, ever, again complain about a boring day in his life–
“Cayd!”
Avery’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. His friend held his sword in his hands, his gaze trained on the pair of darkspawn before them.
“You still want to be a hero? Then let’s kill these things before they reach the village!”
Cayd watched as his friend charged at the darkspawn. He watched him swing his broadsword over his head and cleave into the creature’s shoulder.
Its pained howl was enough to shock Cayd out of his stasis. Pressing his back against Avery’s, he unsheathed his dagger and faced the other darkspawn that scrambled towards them.
The first strike grazed his cheek, and tears stung in his eyes. He clenched his teeth, and on the next strike, he ducked aside just quick enough to evade its claw by an inch. He twirled, and drove his dagger into its side, all the way up to the hilt. The sudden surge of heroism subsides quickly, as his clammy hands failed to pull the dagger back out, and the darkspawn reared its head towards him. Its foul breath washed over his face.
“Shit!”
He bent backwards, avoiding another slash; off balance, he blindly groped for purchase, and pulled out a bent sword instead. The momentum sent him flying onto his arse.
The darkspawn lunged towards him, claws slashing wildly. Cayd only scrambled backwards. In his panic, he slashed the sword aimlessly through the air. It hit, cutting into the arms of the creature. That only seemed to infuriate it even more. The darkspawn recoiled, yanking its sword out of Cayd’s hands.
As if it knew he was now defenceless, its maw twisted into a grin. It jumped towards him, howling triumphantly.
Cayd didn’t want to die. He squeezed his eyes shut and sent a quick prayer to the Maker to spare him needless pain.
But the pain didn’t come. Instead he heard a wet gurgle and something warm sprayed across his face. He winced when something touched his shoulder.
“It’s alright.” Avery’s voice was barely above a whisper. “They’re dead.”
Cayd opened his eyes, and his stomach lurched at another wet squelching noise. Moments later, the hilt of his dagger is pressed into his palm. He clutched it so tightly his knuckles turned white. Before him lay the body of the darkspawn in an expanding, black puddle. It had a hole in its chest it didn’t have before.
He looked up, into Avery’s grimly determined face, and back down to the darkspawn. Then, he turned to the side and retched.
“We need to warn the others.”
“I thought you said they’re all dead?” Cayd wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The bitter aftertaste of bile lingered, no matter how often he swallowed.
“The ones we saw are dead.” On a second glance, Avery was paler than usual. While still holding his own better than Cayd, it was oddly comforting that Avery didn’t just take it in stride. “I don’t know if there are more of them out there.”
He let himself be pulled up onto his feet and followed Avery in silence. If this was how being a hero felt like, he’d rather he stayed a tailor’s help. He’d rather be anything but. Wasn’t he supposed to feel victorious, or even just good, like he knew what he had to do once pressed? Because he didn’t. There was only a knot of dread weighing heavily in his stomach. Hero or not, he couldn’t imagine having to deal with more of those creatures. The two of them had a hard time with this group of stragglers. How much damage could the horde do?
Deeply lost in thought, Cayd hadn’t noticed they had reached the village. It was as empty and as quiet as it had been when they left. As it always was. They passed the tannery that seemed as abandoned as before, and he followed Avery towards the main square.
He glanced around, his gaze wandering over the statue and eventually staying at his house. “And now?”
Avery shrugged. “We still need to tell the others. They should know about the possible threat.”
“Do you think they’ll believe us?” Councilman Murray was stubborn to a fault, and the kind of man to claim the sky was green when told otherwise, purely out of spite. Getting him to listen to their plight would be a feat in and of itself; persuading the other council members to face his ire and turn against him on nothing else than their word would be another.
“Does it matter? We still need to try!” Avery pinched the bridge of his nose, and continued in a calmer voice, “Look. If you don’t want to go there, fine. I get it. I don’t want to, either. But if there are still darkspawn out there – and we can’t say for certain that there aren’t – everyone here should know about it. Otherwise, how could we even hope to fend off the attack of more than a couple of stragglers?”
His thick head would get them into trouble. Cayd sighed. And his reluctance would get all of them killed. “You’re right, I know you are. I just– what if, you went to the council, and I went somewhere else to ask for help? To cover more ground?”
“And who would that be?”
Cayd chewed his lip. “Mathias,” he eventually said.
There was the slightest hint of a smile playing around Avery’s lips. “You really don’t want to get to the council, do you?”
“I just think it’s faster that way.” And despite the lingering rumours, he was certainly a more decent man than his father. He shot another glance at the statue. Or at least Cayd hoped Mathias was.
“Fine, have it your way.” Avery clasped his shoulder and smiled at him. “Best of luck. I have the feeling we need it.”
“And to you.” Cayd watched his friend square his shoulders, not unlike he did before they sparred, and walk up towards the assembly. Only when the door fell shut behind him, Cayd made his way towards the other side of the square. Mathias’ house was unassuming for the son of a famed war hero. And a famed maniac. Usually it was; today, a purple glow shone through the slightly ajar door.
He should have gone with Avery. He would be chewed out for being an annoyance, but at least he wouldn’t be sacrificed in a demonic ritual, or whatever this was.
Instead, he rapped at the door frame. “Hello?”
Moments passed, but no answer came. Cayd gently pushed the door and it creaked open without resistance. The main room was tidy, and empty. An assortment of crystals lay strewn across the table, catching the low sunlight and throw it back against the walls in dark purple light he had seen from outside. He exhaled in relief, and with renewed resolve, he stepped into the house. “Mathias? Are you there?”
He looked around, but his attention was drawn to the crystals. They were pretty on their own but mesmerising in the light. It seemed to swirl around within them, and on closer inspection they seemed to glow on their own, and even hum with a strange power. He leaned in; his fingertips ghosted across the surface of a smaller crystal. It was really pretty.
Surely, with no one else around, no one would notice if he touched it, just briefly. So, he did. And the crystal came to life.
He caught a movement to his side, and turned to find a hulking, dark figure in the corner. Its shape wavered, as if it was made from shadow instead flesh, and it glided towards him. The closer it got, the more it unfurled, growing bigger and more menacing, until it split open lengthwise to reveal a giant, teeth-lined maw. And it lunged towards him.
With a scream Cayd recoiled, scrambling back towards the entrance. The figure vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, leaving no trace of its brief existence behind.
“Cayd?”
Still shook from the assault, Cayd turned towards the door. Mathias stood within the opening, a satchel slung over his shoulder. His brows furrowed.
“Maker, Cayd! Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” His gaze fell onto the crystals and he quickly wrapped each in a piece of cloth. “Ah, never mind. What can I do for you? Is your mother unwell?”
“No, nothing like that.” Cayd grimaced. He hadn’t even thought to stop by. “But I still might need your help.”
“I assumed you weren’t here out of neighbourly obligation. So, what is it?”
“Avery and I fought darkspawn today. Not two hours away from here.”
Mathias’s mouth fell open. He gently put down his satchel and pulled up a chair. “That is very concerning, yes. But I’m afraid I can’t follow?” He gestured towards the other seats before he took one for himself.
Cayd grasped the back of the closest chair. “Avery is telling the council as we speak. But I thought that maybe you have a way to help. Or you would at least be willing to listen,” he added.
Mathias laughed mirthlessly. “That I am. But I don’t think–“ His gaze focussed on a spot behind Cayd’s back. He stayed silent for a while. “There might be something I can do.”
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t get your hopes up just yet, I’m not certain it would work. You see, my father… He has left some devices behind, mechanisms that even someone with little– with no magic can operate.
“But I need to study them, understand them to see if they would be helpful at all. As you saw for yourself–“ he gestured towards the wrapped crystals with a lopsided grin “–not everything he left me is necessarily Chantry-approved. And to do that I need time.”
“That is honestly more than I had hoped for.” Maybe they had a chance after all, if the worst were to happen. “I’ll gather the others. Where do you need us to wait?”
Mathias pursed his lips. “Well, I’m still not certain I can figure something out as quickly as you’d like me to – I’d need a week for that at least! But my father’s study should be safe, or more easily defended. I’ll head there right away.” He grabbed a few of the swathed crystals from the table and began scanning the room. “It’s below the storage cellars, you’ll know it when you see it.”
“I’ll see you, then,” Cayd said, before he jumped out of the chair and out of the door. He hoped it would be enough, if the worst came to pass. It had to be. Even if that meant hiding in a mage’s laboratory.
Avery just came outside, too. He was too far away for Cayd to read his expression, but he didn’t need to be much closer; he walked towards him with the councilman in tow. And that never was a good sign. Cayd was ready to bet Murray’s face would be set in his permanent scowl.
But before they reached them, and before the councilman could start his tirade, a bone chilling cry interrupted him.
It was the same, piercing shriek he had heard earlier that day. Cayd’s head whipped towards the source, and there they stood; a group of six darkspawn had crested the slope towards Honnleath and leered at them, weapons drawn. One of them brandished a staff.
Cayd had been terrified of darkspawn before he even thought they might wield magic. He could have lived happily without ever needing an answer to this question earlier this day.
Feet rooted to the ground, he stared at them. One creature was more horrifying than the other, with their decaying faces and broken, jagged bones. He stood and watched them march towards them, begging the Maker to either loosen his feet or grant him a quick end. Beside him, metal scraped against metal.
Pain surged up his left arm before he knew what had hit him, and he staggered backwards with a cry. Avery was at his side immediately, one hand splayed against his back and the other carelessly dragging his sword behind him.
“We’ve got to go!”
“Cellar.” His hand felt for the pain in his arm, only to nudge the bolt sticking out of it. He screamed, again, but his gaze wouldn’t leave the darkspawn.
One of the smaller ones lifted its crossbow.
“What?”
“We need to get to the cellar.” Cayd hissed as he clutched the bolt and yanked. It only caused more pain. “Mathias said–“
This time, he saw the bolt coming; he ducked to the side, pushing Avery out of the way with him. It lodged itself into Mathias’ door with a thud.
Avery didn’t ask again. He grabbed Cayd’s uninjured wrist. “Attack!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, as he dragged him towards the closest cellar entrance. “Everyone! Move to the cellars immediately!”
Angry buzzing drowned out Avery’s final words. Cayd threw a glance back, only to wish he hadn’t. A large swarm of unnaturally large and unnaturally grey bees zoomed towards them; the staff-wielding darkspawn seemed to grin. Then, Cayd was pushed through the door.
The buzzing grew louder, but he luckily didn’t feel a sting; Avery was right behind him and barred the door.
Hopefully it held until Mathias had figured out how to ward off their attacks. Cayd wished he had still some hope left.
They went down through the tunnel, and every step forward seemed to become more difficult to take. Eventually they reached the main cellar, and with them did their confused and scared neighbours. They filled up the room, squeezing together between the shelves and sacks and barrels. He quickly scanned the room; he did not see his mother.
Cayd waited a beat, and another, only to realise that Avery wouldn’t start a rousing speech, to rally them in a time like this.
“I know you have questions,” he said hesitantly, as their gazes weighed down on him – though that might have been Avery’s arm draped across his shoulder. “I know you are scared. We all are. But we will be safe.” He looked around, and spotted an old, reinforced door at the far side of the room, partly hidden by a shelf filled with cheese. He gestured towards it. “We need to go into the laboratory. Mathias will be waiting for us there.”
Murmurs rose around him, but one after the other, they walked through.
“Let’s go, then.” He tried to follow the others, but Avery wouldn’t budge. So, he “Come on, we should–“
Avery fell face forward to the floor. The back of his jerkin was slashed open, and the skin beneath was swollen, and had turned a sickly purple.
“Avery?” Cayd’s heart sunk into his stomach.
This wasn’t right.
He knelt down beside his friend, shaking his shoulders. They were almost in safety, just a little further. Black ichor seeped through the fabric where he touched. Cayd jerked away.
Only then did his gaze fall on Avery’s lifeless eyes. His cheeks had begun to swell, and greyish tendrils crawled up his neck underneath his skin.
He didn’t know how long he had knelt there, staring into Avery’s eyes. When he got up and followed the others, without another look back, he stumbled through the door on stiff legs. He heard the others call out his name, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he walked towards the other side of the room and, after his legs refused to carry him any further, let his back slide down the wall.
No one came up to him; if they stared, he didn’t notice. He closed his eyes, only to see Avery before him once again, collapsed on the floor with dead eyes staring back at him.
Accusing him.
Cayd shook his head, and slowly rocked back and forth. His hand moved to the bolt still stuck in his arm. If only he had been braver. He rolled the shaft between his fingers, this time welcoming the sharp jolts of pain. If only he had been faster.
If only Avery didn’t die.
Tears ran down his cheeks, and he wiped them away with his free hand. His eyes remained shut; he wasn’t ready to check if his tears had turned black.
A light touch on his shoulder cut through his thoughts, and he didn’t know whether to be angry or grateful. He opened his eyes and looked up into Duncan’s concerned face.
“I’m sorry.” Duncan squeezed his shoulder briefly, his gaze unreadable, before he turned towards the group. “I’ve driven the darkspawn off, so you should be safe, at least for the moment. But I’m afraid I can’t stay – a group of stragglers this size is worrying, and I need to relay that to the king as soon as I am able.
“You are in good hands, though.” He nodded towards the back of the room, where Mathias was occupied with something Cayd couldn’t see. “I will send word to Redcliffe, though, and to South Reach, for any guards they can spare to aid you. Until then, I implore you to stay alert.”
Duncan paused, as if waiting for comments or questions. None came; everyone cowered down with frightened faces. Cayd was certain he looked the same.
He didn’t want that. He didn’t get to do that, not when Avery wasn’t around.
When Duncan walked out, he followed. His feet dragged across the ground with every step he took, as if his legs were trying to stop him. But Cayd forced himself to continue forward. For Avery, he said to himself, over and over, in rhythm with his steps.
Duncan waited outside, his eyebrows raised. He waited until Cayd had closed the door behind him.
“I can’t stay here,” Cayd said, before Duncan could ask him to get back inside. He couldn’t go back in there, even if the alternative was more darkspawn, or whatever it was Duncan fought against. Tears welled up in his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. “Please, don’t leave me here.”
Duncan stayed silent for a while, his expression unreadable as he looked Cayd over. Eventually, he sighed. “Following me means danger, boy. You’d be safer staying here.”
“I know.” Cayd squared his jaw, in the way Avery used to. Of course Duncan wouldn’t understand. But if he wouldn’t take him, Cayd would leave on his own.
“Do you know how to use that dagger of yours?” Duncan paused, as if reconsidering. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll teach you what I know. We’ll have a couple of nights to practice on our way to Ostagar.”