Damian Hawke needed a while to recollect what had happened and why he was lying on the floor. A book lying open, cover up, a few feet away gave a good hint and soon it all came rushing back.
Shit.
He pushed himself to his knees, one hand going to the sore spot on his head. He looked around but did not find a frightened Fenris who regretted hurting his master. There was nobody in the room. "Fenris?"
No answer. Damian got to his feet and rushed to the bedroom. It was as empty as the living area. He checked the tiny bathroom to be certain but already knew Fenris would not be there. Dread washed over him, causing another dizzy spell.
Shit, shit, shit.
Ignoring the lightheadedness Damian ran outside. "Fenris!"
Not even the birds in the trees answered his call. He searched the immediate area of the hut, hoping Fenris was too afraid to speak up, but again found nothing. Dread was about to be crushed by panic but he pushed it back. How long had he been out? It was a cloudy day but judged by the light not much time had passed. It could not have been long... maybe only a few minutes. Apparently enough for Fenris to get away. Inwardly cursing his own idiocy Damian started running down the only path leading to and from the hut. All the way he kept calling out to Fenris, always getting nothing but silence in return. By the time he reached the village he was panting and struggling even more to maintain his calm. If Fenris had found refuse with some of the townsfolk...
Damian approached the first villager he saw, a lean, middle-aged woman with dark blond hair and a friendly, round face. "Have you seen a strange elf pass by here? White hair, markings," he gestured at his chin and neck, "on his neck and arms?"
She stared at him in confusion, unfamiliar with the common tongue. "Elf?"
"Yes, elf. Pointy ears." Again he used his hands to illustrate his meaning. "He's... confused. I need to find him. Please, have you seen him?"
Her face showed surprise. "No. No elf."
Without bothering to thank her Damian hurried on to the next person. The exchange he had had with the woman repeated itself numerous times, all with the same result. Most of the villagers were surprised to learn he was not living alone. That his company turned out to be an elf was even more reason for interest. Pairings between humans and elves were uncommon, especially in a human settlement such as this. Damian could see curiosity light up in their eyes. He had just become infinitely more interesting to them and it was obvious they were eager to learn more. He would be the preferred gossip topic for many days to come. Unwelcome attention, but right now Hawke could hardly be concerned about that. He had just asked the elder about Fenris but he too claimed to not have seen him. Damian already wanted to turn away when the old man spoke again.
"You with elf? Elf I seen when you came to village?"
"Yes, that's him." He had forgotten the elder had seen Fenris upon their arrival. "Are you sure you haven't seen him today?"
The elder ignored the question, seemingly having more pressing things on his mind than the disappearance of an elf. "Dorf too? With you?"
Distracted, Damian shook his head, not understanding what the man meant. "Dorf?"
The elder held his hand at chest level. "Little man."
"Oh, dwarf?" He had to mean Varric. That would make for an even more scandalous addition to the gossip. A reclusive human living together with an elf and a dwarf. Some pairing. And undoubtedly the start of many other perverse rumors. Days? This would keep them entertained throughout the entire winter. "No, he doesn't live with me. He was just a friend." Not that this would do anything to stop the villagers from talking now.
The elder did not give the impression he was completely reassured. "Just elf with you? Man elf?"
Damian grabbed the old man's vest, tempted to go for his throat instead and strangle him. "You can judge me in your own time. Curse me, condemn me, pity me and my doomed soul - I don't care. I just need to know where Fenris - the elf - has gone. Are you absolutely certain you haven't seen him? Has anyone else mentioned him to you? Just answer me, man!"
"Elf not here."
When Hawke released the hold on his clothes the elder stumbled backwards. Disgruntled he smoothened the fabric, but Damian did not wait for the accusing looks and curses which undoubtedly would be sent his way. He took several large steps away from the old man.
"Fuck!" He clawed with both his hands in his hair. The battle against panic had been lost; he was feeling sick from terror, on the verge of blacking out from it. He had messed up. Varric had been right, he had been pushing too hard and now Fenris was gone. Possible scenarios of how he would end up flipped through Damian's mind. Killed by wildlife or bandits, captured by slavers, lost and starving... All because he could not accept the effects of the lyrium poisoning were permanent, because he had been unable to accept the way things were. And Fenris would be the one to suffer because of it. All his failures and he just had to add this one on top of it.
His heart pounded in his chest, pushing forth the call in his blood. He longed to take his knife and sink it into his flesh to release his magic. He needed it, needed power to not be crushed by his own fear. Damian's hand was already going to his belt when he stopped himself. The lure was tricking him. All the power in Thedas would not allow him to conjure Fenris back to his side. It would accomplish nothing to cut himself, except the rush would dull the jagged edges of his panic. If he had had some of Fenris' blood he might have been able to track him, like Gascard Dupuis had used Alessa's to find Quentin's lair... but he did not. He would have to find Fenris the ordinary, non-magical way. The elf could not have gotten far. He could still be alive.
Damian frantically looked around, against better judgment hoping to spot someone he had not asked about Fenris yet. It was beginning to get dark. The townspeople were leaving the day's work to retreat into their houses for some warmth and a deserved meal. No one had seen Fenris. Either one of them was lying or Fenris had never gone to the village. Why? There was only one path to leave their home. Damian wondered whether he should go back and search for signs Fenris had tried to leave the track and make his way through the forest. It seemed unlikely. If Fenris had simply tried to get away from what had upset him was it not more logical to assume he had taken the way of the least resistance? But then why had he avoided the village? Upon exiting the forest it was impossible to miss. The village lay a little to the east, a walk of maybe five more minutes away, while to the west there was only...
"The river," he breathed and immediately sprinted away, leaving baffled villagers behind. If Fenris had followed the track and had turned left to avoid other people he would have ended up at the Minanter River. Damian ran as fast as he could, competing with the sun as who would complete their journey west first. He was not even sure why he rushed as fast and desperately as he did, as if Fenris would not be stuck on the shore, forced to a halt by the barrier of water.
He heard the sound of rushing water before he saw the river in the twilight. The sun had reached the horizon before Hawke had arrived at the river and painted the clouds red as goodbye. Damian paid no attention to the colorful sunset. Gasping for air after his wild dash he pressed a hand to his side. He screamed Fenris' name with the first breath that was not crucial to provide air to his burning insides. "FENRIS! Are you here? Fenris!"
He forced himself to start walking again. His hands - he had forgotten to bring his staff - lit up with a blue glow to aid him in his search. While he followed the stream's direction he kept shouting for Fenris to answer him. The risk of a lone fisherman seeing him did not even occur to Damian.
He got close to giving up again, the fear he was searching in the wrong place ever beating down on him. What could he do when night fell? The more time passed, the less likely it became he would find Fenris alive. Or at all.
I was supposed to keep him safe.
Another sequence of self-blaming was cut off when his magical light illuminated a group of rocks in the water. A thin figure was clinging to one of them in the middle of the river. "Fenris!"
Fenris was lying over the rock, his head resting on the stone while he hung in the river from the waist down. Water surged against and around his back. He was conscious - his eyes met Hawke's - and appeared uninjured. Damian guessed he had tried to cross the river by stepping from rock to rock but had slipped and was unable to do more than stop himself from being dragged away by the current. He very much doubted Fenris could swim.
"It's alright, Fenris," he shouted. "Just hold on! I'm coming."
Easier said than done. This part of the Minanter River was not very wide, but Fenris was still out of his reach. Damian could swim - Lothering had bordered on a shallow stream which ended in a small lake near Lake Calenhad - but not good enough to brave the current he could already feel pulling at his boots after two steps into the water, especially if he had to bring Fenris back to solid ground that way. He had to come up with a different solution. He could try to freeze part of the river but while Fenris was suspended in the water that was too risky. Even if Damian could avoid freezing Fenris himself the ice might crush him with the force of new water beating against it.
Force.
He could use force magic to temporarily hold back the current and clear a path. Without a staff to aid in focusing the spell it would take tremendous willpower to keep up. At least the water level was quite low. In spring, when the snow in the Hunterhorn Mountains melted and sought a way down, the plan would have had no chance of success. Now... now it was not completely impossible. About as tough as fighting three Arishoks at once. Damian groaned at his own cursed comparison. Way to inspire confidence.
He had to try. He could always attempt to cross the rocks himself if it failed. Hawke turned ninety degrees so he was facing the direction the water was flowing from and turned his attention inward, to his mana. Fenris' life depended on this. Who knew how long he had already been in the cold water?
The spell burst from his hands and collided with the river. Damian was almost knocked off his feet by the clash of his magic and the natural forces of flowing water. He had underestimated how much the river would protest against being interrupted like this, how quickly the mass of water built up and pounded on the invisible barrier he created using opposing force.
Damian's concentration reached its breaking point within a few seconds; the spell shattered and the river appeared to roar triumphantly now it could continue its way. It crashed over Fenris in a large wave, soaking him to the bone. Fortunately the elf still managed to hold on to his rock.
"I'm sorry, Fenris!" Damian sucked in a sharp breath. Should he try again? It suddenly seemed a lot more risky than he had thought. He could not waste his magic on more failed attempts. There were no lyrium potions at the ready here to replenish his mana when he ran out and they would not have enough time to wait for him to regenerate it on his own. Blood magic would increase his reserves but its use would likely scare Fenris and could jeopardize any rescue attempt.
Through the descending darkness he made eye contact with Fenris again. They had survived Kirkwall, Minrathous and the Silent Plains, damn it. Damian would get Fenris out of this stupid river too.
For the first in a long, long time Damian employed the meditation techniques his father had taught him. He closed his eyes to shut out the distracting sight of Fenris in need, blocked out the sounds of the river flowing around him, ignored the sensation of the current pushing against his shins. It was more difficult to silence his restless mind, push away the guilt and the fear, the lingering sense of panic, and the corrupting lure in his blood. He banished everything until he was alone with his magic, with the spell he needed.
If he had cut himself earlier, if he had had a wound somewhere, no matter how small, this method would likely have only brought him to blood magic. But now he successfully dove past that. Though he was unable to escape the dark, mysterious pull completely it was enough to reach what he needed. For a while Damian held still, ensuring the hold on his magic was firm and would not slacken. Then he opened his eyes, stretched out his hands again and let the spell burst from his palms.
Once more the river had to bend to his will. Water beat against his force magic and was forced to a halt. The ground where he stood ran dry as the rest of the river flowed on. Out of the corner of his eye Damian looked at Fenris. The elf was no longer hanging in the water either - Damian's spell was wide enough. "Fenris..." speaking was difficult, all his energy being sucked up by maintaining his magical creation. "Get over... here. Can't... keep this up for long."
Slowly Fenris let go of the rock that had saved his life and slid down to the pebbled ground which formed the bottom of the river. He tried to walk towards Hawke but his hypothermic muscles refused to obey his body's commands. After a few steps he slumped to his knees.
Curses! The water level behind his barrier was rising quickly. If Damian stopped the spell now they would likely be crushed just as efficiently as a chunk of ice would have achieved. Already he felt his mana draining. Soon he would be running on empty.
He would have to keep it up no matter what. There was no opportunity for doubt. Carefully, making sure his concentration would not falter, Damian began to inch sideways to get closer to Fenris.
"Pull yourself up... to me," he instructed with a strained voice. "Then... hold on."
He felt hands grab his breeches and Fenris drag himself up with the support this granted him. When an arm settled over his shoulder Damian started to shuffle back the way he had come. Halfway through his knees buckled, but he remained upright. He had to, had to, had to. He could no longer feel his fingers, his hands, his arms. He was feeding everything he had to the spell. If there was one thing he had learned in Tevinter it was to push himself beyond every constraint, ignore every boundary.
Only a few more feet to go. It could not be much farther. His vision blackened. His body was shutting down. He could only hope Fenris was still holding on to him because he could no longer feel anything.
His feet hit a ridge and he fell to the side. The spell was disrupted, the river thundered past to reclaim its territory. Damian gulped in fresh air - had he stopped breathing? - and slowly regained his senses. He became aware of water splattering on his face, of mud and grass under his back. Fenris' face appeared in his field of vision. They had made it!
"Master, are you alright?" the question was asked through clattering teeth.
"C-c-couldn't be better. You?"
"I'm... I'm fine."
Damian sat up, took off his woolen vest and tunic and wrapped the relatively dry clothes around Fenris' soaked ones. "It's alright," he whispered. "I won't let anything like this happen again. I've learned my lesson. No more pushing, no more tests. Just us."
