**This pace is totally unsustainable, but I'm so grateful for the lovely comments that I wanted to get this one out before the weekend. Happy Friday!**
"Should we leave Maggie behind with Thom?" Ellana asked, only half a step behind Dorian.
"Don't bother," Rainier said, buckling on his looted armour. "I'm coming with you."
"Out of the question," Cassandra said flatly.
Dorian hesitated in the doorway, burning with impatience. He honestly didn't care which way this decision landed, so long as it landed now.
Rainier met Cassandra's glare with a look of cool determination. "I won't sit on my backside while our friends are in danger."
"You can hardly walk," Cullen said.
"I'm feeling stronger already, now that I've had a little rest and something to eat. I'll manage. It's my decision."
"No," Cassandra returned, "it is not. If you are too weak to defend yourself, you put the entire party and our objective at risk."
"All right then, let's put it to the person in charge. Who's in command here?" Rainier's gaze took in the whole group.
They all looked at one another. If there'd been crickets in the Deep Roads, they would have been chirping.
Oh, for the love of… "It hasn't come up," Dorian said irritably. "Can we please just…?" He gestured at the door.
"It's a fair question," Cullen said. "We can't afford to dither over every decision. Perhaps we should appoint a commander."
More crickets.
Dorian sighed and looked at Ellana. "He's your brother."
"Me?" She gave a hollow laugh. "I'm the least qualified person here. I've never been in charge of anything in my life."
"Neither had your brother, before he joined us," Cassandra pointed out.
"That's not entirely true. He used to lead hunting expeditions all the time. I've never even done that."
"Still," Cullen said, "you are family. And you're the one who brought this search party together. None of us would be here if it weren't for you."
"I asked for your help because you're all battle-hardened. Experienced." Ellana shook her head. "No, I'm wise enough to know when I'm out of my depth."
"If you are not comfortable leading yourself," Cassandra said, "you should appoint someone you trust."
"Very well. In that case, I choose…" Ellana hesitated, her gaze shifting between the warriors.
Yes, yes, Dorian thought impatiently. They're all fine candidates. Experienced commanders, et cetera. Can't really go wrong here. Just bloody well pick one.
Then those blue-green eyes landed on him, and she said, "Dorian."
He blinked. "I'm sorry,what?"
"Dorian?" Cassandra snorted in disgust. "If that is the sort of command instincts you have, perhaps it's best that you didn't accept the job."
"Cassandra," Cullen tutted disapprovingly, forgetting protocol for a change.
As for Ellana, she scowled at Divine Victoria as though she couldn't give a nug fart about shem protocol. Which was almost certainly the case. "Dorian is smart and capable and he has my brother's best interests at heart. You said I ought to appoint someone I trust. I trust Dorian."
"Dorian it is," Rainier said, cutting off any further protest from Cassandra. "Now then, how about it, Commander?" He raised his bushy eyebrows at Dorian. "Will you have my sword, or no?"
To his immense irritation, Dorian felt himself blushing. "Well you're no Blackwall, but you seem steady enough."
"Good." Rainier clapped Dorian's shoulder. "And Maker help us all."
Dorian's mouth took a sour turn. "Smart of you to save that last bit until after I'd said yes."
"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a complete fool. Shall we?"
They headed out, Maggie scouting ahead while they followed the passage in a roughly southwesterly direction. Every step took them a little deeper underground, the gently sloping floor giving way to a short flight of steps every hundred feet or so. The tunnel branched regularly, but with the help of the map, Ellana kept them on a zigzagging path that avoided the main road.
"I hope it's all right with you," she murmured to Dorian as they walked. "You didn't seem all that happy about being chosen."
"I was… surprised. It's not the choice I would have made." Cutting her a wry look, he added, "I seem to recall you saying something not so long ago about not agreeing to serve under my command."
"Well, now I have."
He sighed. "I hope you won't end up regretting it."
"I won't," she said with simple confidence.
"Dorian." Cassandra dropped back to walk beside him. "You took something from the ruins earlier. What did you find?"
"See for yourself." He unfolded the papers he'd stolen and handed them over. "I'm no expert, but I'd say they're armour schematics."
"Armour and weapons." Cassandra frowned at the sketches. "What are these notes? Do not boil what?"
"Lyrium. I found what I believe was a broken piece of armour, with lyrium woven into the metal. Sound familiar?"
Cassandra lifted her gaze to his. "Please tell me you're joking."
"I'm afraid not. Our friends appear to have gotten their hands on at least one piece of Sha-Brytol armour, and it looks as though they're trying to replicate it. With red lyrium, one presumes."
"Maker's balls," Rainier growled. "That's all we need."
Ellana's glance cut between Dorian and Cassandra. "What's a Sha-Brytol?"
"Do you remember the story I told you earlier, about the caverns below the Deep Roads? There were dwarves down there calling themselves the Sha-Brytol. Revered Defenders. Not an overly friendly bunch."
"They attacked us at every turn," Cassandra said. "With weapons and armour that were incredibly powerful."
"So powerful," Cullen put in, "that the Inquisition and the Legion of the Dead agreed to keep their existence secret. We took a few items for our own use, but the rest was put under lock and key. We even burned the schematics when the Inquisition was disbanded. How did the Promisers get hold of a sample?"
"Carta, most likely," Rainier said. "Or a Legionnaire looking to settle some family debts. That equipment would fetch a pretty price."
"Perhaps that explains the Legionnaire we found," Dorian said. "At any rate—"
A muted boom sounded from somewhere far ahead, and a shower of dust sprinkled them from above. Ellana froze like a rabbit, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Is that an earthquake?"
Another boom, a little softer this time. "I don't think so." Dorian narrowed his eyes. "Explosions of some sort, I'd say. But they're a long way off."
The blasts continued as they walked, sending the occasional shower of dust over them. And then, quite without warning, they found themselves meeting up with the main road. Maggie whuffed softly, and a moment later voices sounded from just down the road, along with the rattle of wheels on stone.
Ellana peered out of the passageway. "Wagons," she whispered. "They're coming this way."
They held their position, concealed in shadow as the caravan rolled into view. The first wagon was driven by a dwarf – Carta, presumably – and pulled by a pair of brontos, with guards flanking it on either side. One of the them was Qunari, and Dorian was about to express surprise when he got a look at the cargo they were hauling.
"Gaatlock," Cassandra growled.
Cullen swore under his breath. "That explains the explosions. They must be using it to tunnel through the rock."
Dorian frowned, his gaze following the Qunari. "Why would a Tal Vashoth join the Order of Fiery Promise? Last time I checked, fanaticism didn't pay well."
The second wagon rolled past, carrying more gaatlock. It wasn't until the third wagon appeared that they got their first glimpse of the prisoners, half a dozen terrified-looking city elves crammed into a cage like animals.
"Poor bastards," Rainier murmured.
They waited until the caravan was out of sight before following, careful to keep their distance as they scurried along the walls like rats. They didn't have far to go; already, Dorian could see the torches of Three Roads camp ahead.
"It looks like a waypoint," Cullen whispered as they crouched behind a fallen pillar. "Look – the prisoner wagon isn't even stopping."
"That makes sense," Ellana said, consulting the map. "The dig site is here, to the southwest. It's still a long way off, so they're probably stopping for the night. Whereas this camp here is only another couple of miles. That's probably where the prisoners are headed."
"Do we attack?" Cullen asked. "We have the element of surprise."
Dorian waited for someone to answer the question – until he realized they were all looking at him.
Oh, right. You're in charge now. Lucky you.
He counted about a dozen in the enemy camp. They had a good chance of taking it, provided there weren't any of these famous Anointed among them. But with all that gaatlock, they might end up making rather a lot of noise, which would alert the nearby camps. That wasn't a risk Dorian was prepared to take. Not until he knew their friends were safe. "We follow the prisoners," he whispered. "Provided we can find a way around these bastards without being spotted."
Ellana traced a finger along the map. "If we head back along the main road to this tunnel, we should be able to meet up with the wagon here. We'll have to hurry, though, or they'll get too far ahead of us."
"Then we'd better get moving," Dorian said. "Lead the way."
They took the next stretch of tunnels at a jog. Predictably, Maggie found this delightful, bounding along with her tongue hanging out as though she expected someone to throw a stick at any moment. Dorian found it considerably less delightful, but he didn't let up. Rainier was managing the pace, and Dorian refused to be shown up by a half-dead lummox in plate mail.
And then suddenly, Maggie skidded to a halt, ears pricked forward. She whined, and a moment later Dorian heard it: muffled shouts and the clash of steel.
"Fighting ahead," Cassandra said, drawing her blade.
The words were scarcely out of her mouth before an ungodly shriek split the air, and the shouting become screams. "Darkspawn," Rainier growled.
Dorian's blood ran cold as he recalled what he'd overheard earlier. Darkspawn are drawn to the fresh ones. "The prisoners," he breathed, breaking into a run.
Even before they got there, Dorian knew they were too late. The screaming tapered off, and a terrible silence descended. By the time they reached the road, it was littered with bodies – or rather, what was left of them. The darkspawn had already begun to feed. The wagon was empty, the cage door ajar. Bits of the driver lay strewn across the seat, but the rest of the bodies were unidentifiable; it was impossible even to tell how many there were.
Dorian was just about to give the order to attack when a fresh wave of Promisers came charging down the road, roaring a battle cry. Half a dozen surviving shrieks looked up from their meal, screaming in rage at having their feast interrupted. The two hosts collided.
It was the perfect opportunity.
"Let's introduce ourselves, shall we?" Dorian stepped out into the road and sent a wall of flame roaring through the centre of the melee. Then, having announced himself in style, he threw a barrier over his allies and got down to business.
He almost pitied the Promisers. One minute, you're battling a host of shrieks, which is more than enough to be getting on with, and the next thing you know, you're unaccountably on fire. Then someone attacks you from behind with a pointy object, and you'd quite like to defend yourself, but there are still those pesky darkspawn trying to claw your throat out, and to top it all off, someone just shot an arrow up your arse.
He almost pitied them, but of course he didn't, because they all deserved to die. Which they did, rather quickly, if not quite horribly enough to be truly satisfying.
The shrieks took a little longer to kill. One of them went straight for Ellana, but it didn't get far; Cullen threw himself bodily into the creature, slamming it into the wall with a sickening crunch. He pinned it there with his shield, and a moment later it jerked and went still, slumping to the ground with one of Ellana's arrows buried between its eyes. A pair of them charged Rainier, but Dorian slowed them down enough for Thom to cleave off the arm of one before skewering another, leaving Cassandra to finish the one-armed creature. A fourth, the final survivor, had plans for Dorian, but he Fade-stepped away, and Cullen took it from behind, sweeping its head cleanly from its shoulders.
They paused, listening, but the tunnel was silent. "I think that's the last of them," Cullen said between strained breaths.
Dorian's gaze fell to the carnage all around them.
"The prisoners," Ellana whispered. "Those poor people…"
"Maker keep you at His side," Cassandra murmured.
Dorian felt sick. If I'd given the order to attack. If we'd taken them at Three Roads… This blood was on his hands.
"Maggie, don't!" Ellana's voice made him jump. The wolf was snuffling eagerly around the bodies, her twitching nose only inches from seeping darkspawn ichor.
"Maggie. Garas!" Dorian snapped his fingers and pointed beside him. The wolf raised her head and looked at him, but she didn't move. "Right. Now."
She whined pitifully, but she did as she was told, slinking to his side with her tail tucked.
"How many times do I have to tell you? No darkspawn."
"Hush," Cassandra said abruptly, her gaze abstracted. "Do you hear that? Voices coming from up the road."
"We're close to the prisoner camp," Ellana said. "We should—"
Dorian was already moving, and the others fell in behind him. He couldn't see their faces, but he could feel the same grim purpose rolling off them in cold waves. Swinging his pack down from his shoulder, Dorian fetched his helm – lyrium-infused, one of the few remaining relics of their time in the Bastion of the Pure – and slammed it onto his head. The time for games was over. There would be no more sneaking. No more cowering under desks. However many Promisers were up that road, whatever tricks they had up their sleeves, they were going to die. And those prisoners, whatever their condition, would not spend one more moment in a cage.
They could see the glow of the braziers now, flickering along the hard geometric lines of another ancient dwarven ruin. Cages lined the walls, their rusted iron bars the colour of dried blood. The prisoners were asleep, from the look of things, curled up on the floor of their cells in heaps of tattered clothing. Dorian's heart thudded in his ears. Let him be there. Maker, please, let him be there, and let him be whole.
The Promisers saw them coming. Shouts went up, and a handful of warriors rushed at them. Dorian cast a barrier just as a volley of arrows hissed through the air, bouncing harmlessly away. Ellana returned fire, dropping one of the archers, and Cassandra roared a battle cry. Rainier and Cullen joined her in the charge, and the two fronts collided in a crash of steel on steel.
Archers first. A pair of them hung back by the prison cells. Dorian froze them stiff with a wave of his hand, and was about to deliver the finishing blow when a familiar wave of energy hit him like a charging bronto, knocking the wind out of him and sending him staggering back. Templar. His gaze raked the field, but he couldn't pinpoint his attacker. And then he felt his barrier draining away as though it had sprung a leak, his mana spilling into the ether.
"There!" Cassandra shoved her opponent back long enough to point with her sword. She'd sensed the ex-templar's power: he was stationed near the cells and focused wholly on Dorian. So focused, indeed, that he paid no attention to the prisoner rising up from the floor to grab him from behind, jerking him back against the bars, distracting him long enough for Dorian to freeze him solid. Ellana drew back on her bow until her arms shook and sent a thumping shot straight into his chest, and his armour shattered like glass. He slumped to the ground, revealing a familiar figure behind the bars.
"Took you bloody long enough," Sera growled.
Dorian rushed over. "Where is he? Sera, where—" A shadow moved to his right: a guard he hadn't noticed before. Dorian snarled and raised his staff, but Sera stopped him with a shout.
"Not that one! He's all right."
"What?" said Dorian.
"What?" said the guard.
"We got an arrangement, don't we?" Sera gestured casually at the guard. "He keeps me at the back of the queue, and I tell him where his friends can find things my friends left lying around. Win-win."
"That's right," the guard said nervously, slowly lowering his weapon. "I get paid, she gets left alone. Win-win."
Dorian blinked in astonishment, looking Sera over more carefully. She was skinny and ragged-looking, but then, this was Sera; she was always skinny and ragged-looking. Her skin glowed with health, and her eyes were as bright as ever. "They haven't done anything to you?"
"Been making me eat nug. Ech." She made a face. "Other than that, I'm good. Been waiting for you to… Hello, who's this?"
Ellana approached warily, her bow drawn at the Promiser guard. "Is my brother with you? Please, where is my brother?"
"You mean the Inquisitor?" Sera's face fell. "He isn't with you? But I thought…" Her gaze went over Dorian's shoulder. Dimly, he realized the battle was over; he'd been so focused on finding Seth that he hadn't even noticed. "Then how did you get here?"
Ellana lowered her weapon and started picking the lock of Sera's cell. "When was the last time you saw him?" Her voice shook, but her hands were steady, and a moment later, the cell door swung open.
"Not since I last saw him." Sera inclined her chin at Rainier, who was walking over with Cullen. Cassandra, meanwhile, was comforting the other prisoners, promising them they'd be free in a moment. "Big mess, that day," Sera went on, a grim look coming over her. "A lot of good people died. When I woke up and the Inquisitor wasn't here, I told myself… But I guess…" Her eyes met Dorian's, and the grief seeping into them was like a knife in his heart.
He sank to his haunches, his breath echoing horribly in the confines of his helm.
Sunlight frames his laughing face, glinting through silver hair…
His chest ached so much he could hardly draw air. And then suddenly Maggie was at his side, whining and wagging her tail, a disgusting scrap of clothing in her mouth. It was covered in darkspawn ichor, and Dorian realized in horror that she'd picked it up back where the other prisoners had been killed. She must have done it when none of them were looking, and now…
"Maggie," he whispered, taking the Blight-soaked clothing from her mouth. "What have you done?" Not you, too, he thought, and he could feel his heart tearing into pieces.
But she didn't seem to have any of the stuff on her muzzle, and if she was in any kind of distress, it was only because she wanted him to see something. She whined again and wagged her tail; through a haze of tears, Dorian looked closer at what she'd brought him. It was a hooded cloak, or what was left of one – crusty with dried darkspawn ichor, and spattered with fresh, too. The slobbery bit was clean, though, as though Maggie had known instinctively how to carry it safely. And then he saw it: what had the wolf so agitated, and something between a laugh and a sob wracked his chest.
"Dorian…" Cassandra's voice was full of sympathy.
He shook his head, picking at the fabric in his hands, and he could feel the others looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, but at last he got hold of it, and he held it up for all to see.
A single silver hair.
"He's out there," Dorian whispered, smiling through his tears. "He's alive."