Hi Everyone. Thanks for continuing to follow this story (and for your patience). There are a few more installments to go, and then the ending (which I'm still wrestling with). Thank you also for your comments and reviews!
"What is this?" Fenris asked, studying the map. It was clearly a map. But jagged lines cut across it, and they didn't seem to represent roads or streams.
"It's a map of Fereldon. Well, it sort of is. It's what Fereldon looks like in the Fade," Merril explained.
"Fereldon?"
"Hawke's home. The first thing I did when I entered the Fade was ask the help of a gentle spirit in mapping the illusion. This is the illusion they've created for Hawke. To tempt her. These," here she rested one delicate finger along one of the jagged lines that Fenris was finding so puzzling, "represent the tears your former master left in the Fade. They radiate out from this point. That's where Hawke must have first been pulled into the illusion."
"You asked a demon of the Fade to help you map out the trap that some other demons have laid for Hawke?" Fenris snarled.
"Spirit, not demon. Not all the dwellers of the Fade mean us harm."
"I doubt that," he muttered under his breath, but returned his attention to the map.
"Well, it's all we have to work with, and it seemed pretty accurate," Merril's ears were pink, but her voice was calm. She bent her head over the map, avoiding Fenris's eye. "It's a small corner of Fereldon near Redcliffe. Hawke was here when we last saw her," she pointed with a finger to an area of the map that was less swampy and more dusty than the rest. "But you won't be able to take the map with you. You'll need to memorize it. I'll be sending you in here," she gestured at the western most edge, "and this is also where you'll need to bring Hawke in order to get her out safely. It's where the borders of the illusion are weakest. Where the damage to the Fade is the least. It's your best chance. The scars and scabs left by Danarius's destruction are too strong everywhere else. But, if you bring her here, she should be able to sense the reality beyond the Fade. Remember, you must guide her gently. She may be in the thralls of the illusion. She may not even know she is in the Fade. If you are too forceful, you might shatter her mind. You can't simply drag her out."
"I remember," Fenris said shortly, thinking of their foolish attempts to rescue Fenryel. He had sworn never to go into the Fade again after he was tempted so easily that time. The demon hadn't even had to try. He'd thought he was above such temptation. At the time, he had blamed his own failure on Hawke. The cold fist of fear in his chest lurched again, remembering the angry accusations he had flung at her after his temptation.
"Yes, of course," Merril replied awkwardly. She had also been turned in the Fade while trying to rescue Fenryel. Hawke and Aveline had succeeded where both of them had failed. Just another reminder of how ill equipped Fenris was to try to rescue Hawke. He wasn't strong enough for this. They should do something else, send someone else.
"It won't be like Fenryel," Merril said firmly, as if reading his thoughts. "You didn't know him. Had no reason to want to see him safe. But you. . . we all care deeply about Hawke," she finished. "It won't be like Fenryel. Besides," she said with a shrug, "you were tempted by the promise of killing your former master. You can't be tempted that way again, can you?"
She raised a hand, as though to touch him on the shoulder, but hesitated. He realized that he'd inadvertently flinched away from her touch. Merril's magic was sawing at his lyrium, smelling of demons and taint and blood. Her hand fell back to her side. "Please," she whispered. "I know it's a long shot, but please try to bring her back." Her voice broke softly, but her eyes held his in a steady gaze, full of a fierce and desperate determination. "I don't know what else to do."
Neither did he. He took a deep breath and nodded.
Her smile was big and bright and warm. "Thank you," she said simply. "Then there are two things you must remember, in addition to the map. One: you must not activate your lyrium while in the Fade. Magic of any sort will draw demons to you. I'm not sure if that includes the use of lyrium tattoos. I haven't been able to determine whether the demons will be attracted by your markings or not. So, best not to use them if you can help it."
"Understood," Fenris nodded.
"And two. . ." she hesitated, her over-large eyes searching his face. What she was looking for, he couldn't tell. "Two," she continued, "Whatever Hawke asks, whatever she demands of you, you must tell her the truth. The real, honest truth. Do it gently, if you can. But don't lie. The Fade is hard to take in small doses, and she's been there for nearly a full day now. I don't know what state she will be in, once you find her. But it's still Hawke. If the truth comes from you, I believe she will hear and accept it. But it must be the truth. She will be on guard against a lie, and might think you are a demon."
"I—I will try," Fenris stammered, a different kind of fear gripping at his throat. Hadn't he been trying to avoid telling Hawke the truth for four years? Hadn't he been avoiding admitting the truth himself?
She stood at his side for a moment more, as though she wanted to add something, but she didn't. Instead, she flew to a corner of the room and began a flurry of activity. "I have enough of the infusion to guarantee one more trip to the Fade," she called as she shuffled bottles on Hawke's dresser, upon which what looked like an alchemy set had been constructed. She picked up a small bottle of sunny yellow liquid and pulled out the stopper. A clean fresh smell like the forest after a rain shower filled Hawke's bedroom. "Yes, still fresh enough," Merril confirmed, handing the bottle to Fenris. "The effects will be quite sudden, so I suggest you lie down," she said over her shoulder as she rifled through some more papers on the table.
Nodding, he gulped down the infusion and settled himself on Hawke's great canopy bed beside her, feeling strange at the thought of the last time he had lain here.
Merril came to stand beside him, and began to mutter something, one hand making complicated signs over his head, the other holding a paper to which she seemed to constantly refer. Her magic, and the taint of it, crawled under his skin, making his lyrium lines feel oily and unclean.
But in a moment, all of that, all those sensations, were far away. Unimportant. He felt empty, weightless, as though the sensations he was receiving belonged to someone else, some other body.
The canopy overhead turned from red to a soft grey, all colour leaching out of the world. Then, it disappeared altogether.
The shadows of the fire danced in his peripheral vision. Lengthening. Thinning. Waving gently.
Not shadows. Not fire.
Tall grass. Or stalks of wheat.
He blinked in confusion. But the grass remained.
Sitting up slowly he took stock of his surroundings. He was in a dung-coloured field under a grey sky that threatened rain. A soft breeze rifled the grass and carried the smell of dung and wet dog to his nose. Having never been there, he supposed this was Fereldon.
He stood, the odd feeling of weightlessness persisted. Then again, he didn't really have a physical body here, so weightlessness was to be expected. He turned in a slow circle, taking stock of his surroundings and comparing them to the memorized map Merril had supplied. Once he was sure of his bearings, he set off to find Hawke.