Dragon Age Inquisition: Faith

Part II: Searching

Kinloch Hold, 9:30 Dragon

The situation at the Circle tower was far worse than anyone anticipated. Leliana did not scale the tower with Naia, so she waited on the ground floor as survivors were sent down. There were depressingly few of them.

When Leliana saw Cullen, she wondered if that might have been a mercy.

The abominations had kept the mages alive because they might prove useful; they had kept the Templars alive for amusement. The young man had been tortured, viciously, and in ways that not even Leliana could identify. His face was yellowed and hollow, his eyes were wild, and he shrank even from his fellow Templars, whispering something about illusions, demons, tricks.

Knight-Commander Greagoir did his best to soothe Cullen, and finally managed to persuade him to take a sleeping draught. The Templar lieutenant choked up half of it, and never did close his eyes, but the drug seemed to calm him somewhat. He lay down on a cot in their makeshift infirmary and was quieter, at least; but he was still mumbling and feverish, and his eyes were focused on a spot in the distance that only he seemed to be able to see.

“He is not well,” Leliana told the Warden bluntly, when she came to see how he was. “What he has gone through—it is more than anyone should have to bear.” She pitched her voice low, although she wasn’t convinced that Cullen could hear her.

The elf sighed and shook her head. She stepped over to the lieutenant’s cot and gave him a long look. “Maybe Wynne can—”

She stopped short when Cullen reached out and seized her wrist.

“You should have killed them,” he rasped.

Naia stiffened and her eyes narrowed to slits, but her expression softened when her gaze fell to the Templar’s hand. Two of his fingers were twisted at unnatural angles and were deep purple with bruising, and his fingernails were either shattered or missing, leaving his fingertips coated with dirt and blood. Leliana wondered if they had done that to him, or if he had done it himself while trying to escape his prison.

The Warden twisted her wrist and carefully freed herself. “I killed the ones who did this to you,” she assured him.

“All of them,” the Templar insisted, his voice shaking. “There is corruption in this Circle. Every mage here has been subject to blood magic and demons. You are a damned fool if you think any of them should still live.”

“They weren't all malificarum,” Naia said gently. "The ones who live deserved to be saved."

Cullen laughed—a harsh, ugly noise—and turned his face towards the wall. “Idiot girl.”

Naia closed her eyes and her shoulders sagged. Leliana knew that expression; the Warden saw that there was nothing she could do for this man.

“Wynne said he was one of the nice ones. He won’t ever be the same, will he?” Naia asked as they left the infirmary.

"No." Leliana's voice came out more sharply than she'd intended. "He may recover, with time, and help," she amended. "But no. He will not be the same."

Naia looked over at her and tilted her head slightly. Leliana wondered if the other woman could sense that she was speaking from experience. Probably so. The Warden had a disconcerting way of puzzling those sorts of things out. She braced herself for the inevitable questions.

But all Naia said was, "Do you think there’s any way to bring back Uldred so I can kill him again?”

Leliana smiled sadly. “It would not help the boy."

The Warden's answering smile had a sharp edge to it. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

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