Taking sides

Chapter 21: Moving camp

Summary:

The Templar encampment moves toward the cold unforgiving terrain, Bethan feels the cold for the first time from both the weather and those who surround her.

The journey was long and exhaustive. Strangely enough during our travels, Samson chose to cut my red lyrium dose down to a mere pittance, perhaps this was my punishment. I truly felt it the craving like a weakness, which hit me in overwhelming waves. Holding it together felt near impossible as every noise grated upon my frayed nerves and each step was pained but I held to my composure as I did not want my weakness to be on display to every red Templar.

As the landscape changed the weather to fell into the harshness of winter and for the first time in years I could feel the cold, my body shivered, my muscles stiffened as the chill seemed to cut through to the bone. My pace was stiff but the camp was within sight my eyes were drawn to high the towers and constructed walls, the armed templars perched upon them made me uneasy. This camp had all the landmarks of being well established, walking through the gate I saw villagers like clockwork slaving to break the beautiful lyrium free from the walls it was growing from. A gentle hum compelled me to wander in a trance-like state further into the mines, the endless walls of the red filled my senses. The need to devour the crystals as they were was powerful, the belief that I would feel better after I ingested the inviting red crystals. Drawn to the warm glow of the lyrium, I found myself mesmerised with a trembling hand outstretched. A cry broke me from my trance, as I turned I found it difficult to focus but as my sight cleared I was faced with a cage full of villagers. Their pleading eyes fell to me as it seemed I was the only one listening, the only one who could see them. It was a mistake to turn my head to see them holding to the bars desperate to escape as it was a cold stab through my heavy heart. The man at the front his pallor was pale, the circles under his eyes revealed sleepless nights fearing his fate. As I remained caught in his pained gaze he whimpered, "Please, helps us."

I felt a push upon my back, urging me to move forward. Warren's voice spoke a soft warning, "Do not let them see you like this."

It was unclear as to whether he meant the villagers or the red Templars but either way, he was right so I followed his word and broke eye contact. The harrowing cry that followed made my heart sink further, I was so desperate to run to their aid but I was surrounded by the enemy. It was beginning to feel as if I was now upon thin ice; a simple misstep would have me plunging into the cold depths. I followed after Warren as his face was the only friendly one left to me, or at least the only one I could openly turn to. After his tent was set up, he sat upon his cot and waved me over to sit next to him. I wandered over and wearily dropped beside him, "You look exhausted," he noted with concern.

"I feel a little strange," I confessed, "Maybe it's just lyrium...but I fear..." I stopped mid-sentence as I feared to trust another, my judgement had been so poor of late.

"What is it you fear?" Warren tentatively urged.

I tried to focus upon what my gut was telling me, but I feared I no longer trusted it. Still, the words tumbled free of my quivering lips as if they needed to be released, "I fear, my run-in with Corypheus...had more of an effect than I realised."

Recalling it with a shudder, "What?" he exclaimed, "You had a run-in with, him. Are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

Warren sounded so shocked and horrified. He grabbed my face and turned me to look at him, his eyes locked upon mine as if scrutinising me. "I am fine...or at least I think so...he could have killed me but he did something to me. I feel weak, and...others are noticing this."