Breaking the Divide (remastered) - Cullen Rutherford

Chapter 12: One Game Can't Hurt

Screams echoed through the halls of Kinloch Hold.

Cullen grabbed a mage when he tried to sprint by, bringing the man close to his face. Terror stared back at him from within the mage's brown eyes. Several inches shorter and a good decade older, the mage quivered in Cullen's grip. Blood had been splattered across his cheeks; his hands were scuffed and bruised.

"What happened?" Cullen asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"It's Uldred. He's—they've gone insane. They're killing everyone! Everyone! They're insane!" He wrested himself from Cullen's grip and continued down the hall at a sprint as more mages spilled out of their rooms.

Shifting his shield from his back onto his left arm, Cullen drew his sword and plunged into the oncoming fray. He shouted directions to places with wards meant to protect those inside, doing what he could to mitigate the growing madness as men and women screamed and scrambled and panicked in a mad pattern he couldn't comprehend. He paused when he came across a group of children being herded about by Wynne.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"Uldred's taken over the tower. He tried to convince us to support Loghain but when we refused, he attacked Irving along with a group of blood mages."

"Blood magic?!"

Wynne nodded, gathering the children closer to her. "It seems that he was so good at weeding them out because he was the one teaching them all. Cullen, he—" She leaned in, her pale eyes suddenly intense. "He tried to bind a demon and failed."

His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened as ice pooled through his veins. An Abomination. A real one. Not just pretend or practice. He tried to swallow back the fear mounting in his chest.

"I'll take care of these little ones," Wynne said. "You need to gather what templars are still here and confront him before he kills us all." Her hand came to rest on his shoulder and he felt warmth working its way back into his frozen frame. "Good luck," she whispered before scuttling on, ushering the children forward together like a mother hen.

Cullen turned to the rest of the hall. Some mages cowered behind bookcases, their hands sparking with what little magic they could summon, others—barely more than children themselves—remained locked in place. "Keep going!" he told them, pressing a few of them onwards with light shoves and harder shouts. "Don't look back no matter what you hear!"

"Cullen!"

"Sam!" Cullen rushed forward as a fellow templar came stumbling around the corner. Blood dripped between the plates of his armor, staining the stone he crumpled onto. His breathing was harsh and ragged, coming out in short puffs that flecked the floor with fine droplets of blood. Cullen knelt at his side, his hands hovering above the fallen man as his mind raced with a haphazard mess of protocols and rules.

Sam gripped Cullen's arm, fingers tightening enough to make Cullen's bones ache. "Killing everyone," he gasped. "I-if they won't join. Killing. Gone mad. Wants blood. Heading to the prisons. Killing..."

Cullen screamed Sam's name when his head fell back, eyes distant. He shook the man as the screaming in the room continued to rise. Closing the man's eyes, Cullen set him gently on the floor. The prisons. Uldred had been killing the mages locked away in the prisons.

Maker, no!

"Move!" Cullen roared as he surged to his feet. He barreled forward, the fleeing mages parting before his sword. He didn't pause, didn't flinch, didn't doubt as he plunged downwards. Abominations and mages gone mad clawed and scraped and screamed for him. He cut his way through the monsters, telling the mages where they could retreat to safety until reinforcements arrived. His sword flashed when he swung it, his own screams deafening in his ears as he forced a path to the lowest floor.