Summary: Rhys' combat preferences sometimes place him at the mercy of additional dangers, especially when unseen or patrolling enemies happen upon his group and multiply the effects of Murphy's Law.
a/n: Totally playing around with canon and the spell list here. I know there's no slow fall in game, but I imagine that perhaps there are some really simple daily life or emergency use utility spells that many mages might know depending on their magical focus. So, thanks for the leeway. Written for the Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle dadrunkwriting.
Let Go
The Storm Coast seemed perpetually covered in rain. Thankfully the rocky terrain meant it wasn't entirely mud-soaked. With splashing foot falls, Rhys ran for a spot with distance and height from which to fire. Arrows whistled through the air, felling one archer and then another while the Iron Bull and Cassandra engaged the two Red Templar warriors with Dorian's assistance. While those men fell as easily as their brethren, none of them had noticed the approaching hound master.
The man's silent command set the dog upon the ranger perched precariously on a slippery boulder. It was the growl that warned Rhys and Dorian, but far too late for Rhys to do more than get his arm up in defense. The bow clattered out of his hand as the jaws clamped down. The pair of them tumbled over the side of the rock.
"Rhys!" Dorian called out.
Bull saw the fall and darted toward the edge, diving for his friend.
The low but familiar sound of a crossbow bolt in flight, drew Dorian's attention from the cliff side. A low growl in his throat, his hand clawed in the air as the incantation passed his lips. A cage of lightning sprouted around the man as Cassandra roared and dashed for the hound master who had pulled out a blade after firing his round.
His heart raced, pounding with fear for the matter of seconds before the caged man fell with a scream. He left Cassandra to her opponent, knowing without a doubt she could handle the man on her own. He hurried to the boulder, seeing only Bull's feet sticking out past it. An unobstructed view brought a gasp to his lips. A closer look lifted the pressing weight off his chest when he noticed a flutter of familiar crimson below.
"Pull him up."
"I'd love to," the qunari grunted, "but I'm barely keeping us both from going over here, Vint."
His staff clattered to the ground and Dorian's fingers dove into the component bag on his belt. He looked Rhys in the eye and said, "Let go."
"What?" Cassandra and Bull yelled in unison.
The inquisitor's grip on Bull's forearm released.
"Boss!" The warrior's voice betrayed his strain, both physical and emotional.
"Do it, Bull," the ranger ordered.
Cassandra leaned over the boulder. "Don't you dare," she warned.
Dorian ignored the sheer cliff and the pointed rocks jutting up at the base. He blocked out the red blood of the dog splashed over the rocks below, and kept his gaze on Rhys' face.
"Let go," Rhys said again, his voice confident as he looked from Bull back to the mage.
Rhys trusted him, with his life clearly. Dorian wouldn't break that. The instant the thick gray hand left his arm, Rhys nodded, and Dorian muttered the verse for the spell. His descent slowed tremendously, it was as if an invisible rope lowered him to the group. His lips moved, whispers passing his lips the entire time, as his outstretched hand shimmered softly. The effect was barely noticeable in the heavy rain. The mage didn't move until Rhys' boots touched the ground.
When he waved, wearing that big, foolhardy grin, Dorian smiled as well. He picked up his staff, then grabbed Rhys' bow from the ground near the boulder before he followed behind a stoic Cassandra and bounding Bull.
Rhys met them halfway. Cassandra just scowled at the Herald, giving him a nod. It was her brand of approval, or so it seemed to Dorian. Bull grabbed the Herald's face and pressed their foreheads together. "That was fancy."
"Foolish," Cassandra corrected.
"Thankfully Dorian was here, or I might be painting rocks like that mabari. Let's head back to camp. I need to get this information back to Skyhold."
"Nice. I do love a challenge," Bull noted, clapping the smaller man on his shoulder.
Dorian just leaned on his staff, the bow hanging at his side. Rhys approached him as the others turned back toward the way they came. When he offered the bow, the ranger pulled on the curve to unstring it quite easily.
"Didn't know you could do something like that."
"I'm full of surprises," Dorian quipped.
"That you are." Rhys' soft smile warmed his eyes. "You're also all wet."
"Which I blame you for. This Maker-forsaken Ferelden weather." Dorian's body still carried the tension of that moment, a soreness creeping through his shoulders. "Don't do that again," he said softly.
"No promises. But if I do, please do that again." The hand on his cheek brought a moment of comfort despite the lack of physical warmth. "Thank you, Dorian."
The mage just nodded. He didn't trust his voice at the moment. Rhys returned the gesture, understanding, and the pair of them trudged back up the slope, shoulder to shoulder.