Huge apologies for last week's mix-up! I discovered I'd entirely missed a chapter and had to go back and reorganize. Chapter 10 was new as of last week, and now this one moves us along to the next part of the story. Thanks for your patience!
They made a hasty camp there in the brightly lit cavern. After so much time in darkness, the lyrium glow everywhere was almost too bright. Ren kept closing her eyes to shut it out, but the light beat against her closed eyelids.
Before they had done more than lay out their bedrolls, however, the Sha-Brytol were around them, attacking. The fight was somewhat easier this time, since they could all see, but the lyrium was so bright and unnatural that Ren's eyes kept watering, and she had to blink to clear them. The distraction was enough to keep her off-balance and unprepared for the Sha-Brytol fighters, who seemed to come out of nowhere.
The Iron Bull kept them off her, standing between her and people who were trying to kill her, the way he always had. Ren couldn't allow herself to contemplate a world in which she lost him entirely, in which his massive bulk wasn't constantly next to her.
A Sha-Brytol appeared in front of her, and she stabbed a dagger at its face, aiming for the very small slits for the eyes. The armor these creatures wore was so heavy and all-covering that it was impossible to discern any features underneath it. And despite Valta's claim that they were dwarves, they were taller than the dwarves Ren knew—taller, and very strong. Maybe that was the lyrium.
Even once the Sha-Brytol were all down, at last, leaving them all panting and exhausted, it was impossible to see underneath the armor. As the Iron Bull had noted the first time, the lyrium was literally bonded to their skin. Nothing existed but the warrior.
It seemed to Ren to be a very Qunari type of thing—each fighter was devoted to only that one purpose, their bodies permanently altered so that they lived as what they were. She said as much to the Iron Bull, who frowned thoughtfully down at the Sha-Brytol at his feet.
"You'd think that would be the Qunari way," he said slowly, thinking it through, "but it's ultimately wasteful. That's why we have the re-educators, because sometimes a person burns out, can't fight anymore, but they can be repurposed to something else, the way I was." He paused, and Ren wondered, not for the first time, if he was thinking of turning himself in to the re-educators again. The thought was chilling to her, the idea of who he was being fundamentally altered to serve some purpose determined by someone higher up in the Qunari leadership. Either unaware of or ignoring her thought processes, the Iron Bull continued, "The Qun isn't wasteful." He looked at Ren, meaningfully. "They would never sacrifice a useful operative merely on the chance of gaining a more useful one."
"The Qun in general might not," she countered evenly, refusing to be baited, "but who's to say that each individual interprets the Qun the same? An agent who has been in deep cover, for example, struggling to retain their identity within the Qun even as they pretend to an entirely different one. Just as one person might, say, romanticize the Qun and think of it as more honorable than it is, another might see it was willing to do whatever was needed to accomplish the task at hand."
His single eye widened in outrage; he hadn't missed her description of him in the analogy. She knew his definitions of words in his native language tended to be far more flowery than the same definition would be if given by someone else, and she strongly suspected that his insistence on the Qun's efficiency and general benevolence was something he had exaggerated in his own head. But the Iron Bull chose not to engage further, instead walking over to the small group of bedrolls, where Dorian and Cole were apparently already asleep, and Valta and Cassandra were conversing softly, both looking rather tense.
Ren followed him, catching the last of Cassandra's remarks. "I can't help thinking there are more of them, perhaps smarter ones who will wait until we are all resting to attack again."
"We'll keep a watch, of course," the Iron Bull said.
"Naturally," Cassandra agreed, "but I cannot sleep thinking of it. Perhaps we should investigate the cavern a bit more, make certain we have looked into the openings?"
Feeling rather keyed-up herself, Ren agreed. "Perhaps you and I should go do some exploring, and Bull and Valta can stay here and keep watch?"
"Not a chance," the Iron Bull said immediately. "Valta, you okay here?"
The dwarf nodded. "I'll look more closely at some of this lyrium, and if anything approaches, I'll wake these two heavy sleepers here."
"Not asleep," Dorian mumbled. "Yet. Ahem."
Ren smiled. "We'll go so you can rest," she told him.
She and Cassandra and the Iron Bull moved down the steep rock formation, slowly, looking around them as they went. The cavern was very open, no passageways that Ren could see, or at least, not until they reached the lower level of it. Ahead of them the rock ended, a vast underground sea stretching out ahead of them, the waves swirling agitatedly. To their left, a passage led further into the rock; to the right, it ended in a long path that seemed to tilt slightly downward.
The passage seemed quiet, and fairly dark. By mutual decision, the three of them chose to follow the path, finding a pair of Sha-Brytol guarding a wall that cut the path off as it led downward. They managed to take them down, although it was notably easier to Ren to fight these things with Dorian's assistance, as his fire and lightning did more damage through their lyrium armor than blades.
As Ren and Cassandra dragged the bodies to the edge of the path and threw them over into the tossing waves far below, the Iron Bull inspected the wall. "They built this," he said at last. "To keep us out, I suspect. It seems fairly new—and we appear to be the only invaders they've faced in a long time. If ever, maybe." He looked around, and Ren could see in his face the curiosity he was trying to suppress. "This might be farther than anyone else has ever come."
"Lucky us," she said dryly.
"Yeah, I doubt luck is the word we're gonna use when we get out of here," he said.
Cassandra looked at both of them. "Both of you need to remember the things we have already accomplished and lived to tell the tales. Or allow Varric to tell them," she added, the corner of her mouth turning up in a very small smile.
"Good point," Ren said, forcing good cheer and optimism into her voice. "So nothing's coming at us up this path, at least. That's one good thing."
"But there's that passage back the way we came," the Iron Bull pointed out.
Ren watched Cassandra smother a yawn. "Why don't you go up and check on Valta and report on our progress down here," she suggested, "and Bull and I will go look at the passage."
"But I should assist you," Cassandra protested.
"No, she's right. Valta's alone up there, unless she wakes up Dorian or the kid, and probably pretty tired. Better to have you up there helping her out, and we'll go look into the passage and join you when we're sure it's clear."
Cassandra nodded; it was obvious she was very tired. Ren wondered if she was also wounded—she looked very pale. "Have Dorian check you out when he wakes up," she said. "Just to be on the safe side."
"As you say, Inquisitor." Cassandra caught herself with a smile. "Ren. I must be more tired than I thought."
Ren smiled. "Evidently." She followed the Iron Bull back toward the passage while Cassandra climbed up the rocky path to the camp.
He didn't say anything to her, not that she had expected him to, even though this was the first time they had been completely alone together since they left the surface world. That seemed long ago, the memory of fresh air and ocean winds and the sun on her face distant and half-forgotten.
They moved cautiously down the passage. There was no lyrium here, and the dimness was soothing after the almost-too-bright blue light in the larger cavern. There was also an odor, something that seemed familiar—sweaty and musty and … Ren cautiously sniffed at herself. There hadn't been a lot of opportunity for washing down here, but she wasn't quite that rank, at least, not yet.
Then she heard a grunting, and a shuffling. A path led upward along the wall, and she followed it, while the Iron Bull remained in the main passage below. After a few moments, she heard breathing, heavy and stertorous. Some kind of animal, but what kind? They'd seen no sign of even a deepstalker since they took that ancient lift down here.
The breathing grew heavier, accompanied by more grunting, the sounds first curious, then concerned, and then irritated, and before Ren could get out of the way, something was on her, pushing against her, something big that nearly bowled her over and ended up smashing her into the wall before it was gone. She lay there on the ground, trying to catch her breath, dizzy from being knocked into the stone, unable even to raise her voice to warn the Iron Bull.
She heard his bellow of surprise, then the animal's roar, then a series of blows and a lot more grunting, and she tried to move. Nothing appeared to be injured, but she was still stunned from the suddenness, her limbs weighted with weariness and sore from all the walking and the fighting, and by the time she had herself sitting upright, back against the wall, the sounds had faded. "Bull?" she called, her voice hoarse and weak. "Bull?"
After a painful, terrifying few moments, she heard him coming, moving fast. "Boss?" Then, more worried, "Morvoren?"
"I'm here, Bull." She pushed herself up the wall, her head spinning just a little as she stood. It seemed like exhaustion more than anything else, as she couldn't feel anything wrong, no particular pains.
He was in front of her now, and he put his hands on her shoulders, their weight so gentle and familiar that she wanted to weep, or to fall against his chest and close her eyes and sleep, safe in his arms. "Kadan?"
His voice was hoarse with worry, with the love he still felt and couldn't hide here in the dark, and Ren felt an almost painful rush of joy at the sound. "Ashkaari."
"Are you all right?" One of his hands found her chin, lifting it carefully while he looked her over as best he could. The other hand probed at her ribs and shoulder before settling on her hip.
"I'm fine. Just stunned for a moment. Are—Are you all right?"
"Yeah," he said, his voice hushed and distracted, his thumb restlessly stroking her hip.
Standing so close to him was heating Ren up from the inside out, her knees weak with his touch and his nearness. If he let her go now, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand.
But he didn't seem about to let her go. She could feel his head dipping lower, his breath on her lips, one of his horns scraping against the wall above her. Ren wanted to beg him to kiss her, but she was afraid that if she spoke he would remember all the reasons he kept telling himself they should be apart. So she held still, barely daring to breathe, until she felt him move just that extra inch further, his lips on hers, the kiss soft and hesitant for a moment. She heard her own whimper echoing against the stones, time frozen for a moment while they stood there.
Then he hauled her up the wall into his arms, pressing her back with his great bulk, holding her tightly against him while his tongue found hers. Starved for the taste of each other, they kissed hungrily. Ren wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes at the sheer joy of his touch again.
Some part of the Iron Bull kept telling him what a bad idea this was, how he needed to put her down and walk away, but he could no sooner have done that than he could have climbed back up to the surface. Her mouth was so warm and yielding, her body familiar and rounded and soft against him, and for the first time since Gatt's death, he felt right again, no confusion or fear, certain that he was where he belonged.
He wanted to touch her, to feel the heat of her, and he reached between them for the fastenings of her pants, wriggling them down, with her smallclothes, until he could find her core. She was so wet against his fingers already; it sent a stab of unbearable desire through him. Ren was moaning softly as he explored her familiar folds, and he couldn't hold himself back. He fumbled with his own pants, dropping them around his ankles, and with the ease of familiarity they fit themselves together, crying out as he seated himself as fully inside her as he could go.
Torn between wanting to make it last as long as possible and the heated frenzy of his blood, he tried to hold back, but soon he was thrusting hard, pushing her back against the wall in his desperation. Ren was holding on to him, her breath coming in short, harsh pants and little choked-off moans, her hips moving restlessly between his body and the wall as she sought her own release.
They found the peak together, holding on to each other while their bodies calmed and cooled. Slowly he let her down, reality flooding back into his mind, the pain of her betrayal and the loneliness of their separation fresh in his mind. If he had been the crying type, he would have wanted to weep.
He could hear the faint sounds of Ren fixing her clothes, and he expected her to push past him, but instead she reached up, and he felt her small calloused fingers on his cheek. "Please come back to me, Ashkaari. Please don't do this to us any longer. I—" She hesitated, then continued, "Whatever else you believe, I need you to believe this: I would never have hurt you by hurting someone you cared for. Not ever. There is no one in the world that I dislike, or fear, or am threatened by enough to take the risk of hurting you, and there never has been." He didn't move, and she took her hand away. "I need you, Ashkaari. Here, and on the surface, and always."
The echo of her whispered words stayed in the passage long after she had left it. The Iron Bull stood as if he had been turned to stone, thinking of what she had said. It had never occurred to him to look at the situation that way, to weigh her dislike of Gatt against her love for him. He hadn't given her the benefit of the doubt, that much was true, and he had been so quick to doubt her—had that been more about him, about his struggles with the Qun and his renewed relationship with Gatt and his questioning of his place in the world?
Whatever the truth, he had been an ass, through and through … and the worst of it was, he had no idea what to do about it.