"Maker's breath." Cullen rubbed his eyes, barely paying attention to the road anymore. "It never ends. It's just one world-threatening calamity after another."
"And here we are," Sera said, "right in the friggin' middle of it all. Again. Is it bad luck, or are we just stupid?" She walked alongside the wagon, guarding one flank while Ellana guarded the other, with Rainier and Cassandra bringing up the rear. Dorian, meanwhile, sat in the driver's seat beside Cullen, from which position he'd brought them all up to speed on the marvellous news. Even the prisoners had listened in, though most of them were too numb to register much of anything.
"A Blighted titan." Rainier cursed quietly. "Almost makes you nostalgic for the old days, when all we had to worry about was a demon army."
"Cheer up, Thom," said Dorian. "We might end up with one of those, too. Red lyrium thins the Veil. In sufficient quantities, it could conceivably cause rifts all over Thedas."
"Only there would be no anchor to seal them," Cassandra said. "Wonderful."
"Why, if we're very lucky, we might even get ourselves a brand-new archdemon or two. After all, if we're pumping the Blight through every vein of lyrium in the Deep Roads…"
"Ugh, we get it," Sera growled. "World's ending, everything's going to shite. Can we talk about something happy for a change? Like the Inquisitor still being alive?"
"I pray it is so," Cassandra said. "But a single hair… Can we even be certain it is his?"
"Maggie seemed certain," Cullen said.
"It's his," Dorian said firmly. "He was there when the darkspawn attacked that prisoner wagon. That can't be a coincidence. In fact, I'm beginning to think none of it is a coincidence."
He felt Cassandra's eyes on him. "Meaning what?"
"Those Promisers we overheard earlier – do you remember what they said about the darkspawn being drawn to new prisoners? That every time a shipment comes in, it's promptly attacked? That seems awfully convenient, doesn't it?"
Cullen glanced at him. "You think the Inquisitor is behind it? But how?" He shook his head, mystified. "How could he possibly survive down here on his own?"
"The way he always has," Ellana put in. "Moving in shadow. Masking his scent. Adapting to the terrain."
"In other words, by being Dalish." Dorian and Ellana exchanged a quiet smile.
"Three cheers for being elfy," Sera said.
Ellana didn't much care for her tone. "You don't think that's a good thing?" she asked coolly.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm glad the Inquisitor's all right. If he's all right. Which, he probably is, because he's the Inquisitor. World's most famous arse-kicker, and a sneaky bugger besides. Still, it sounds bloody awful, doesn't it? This place, all on your own, for a month and some?" She glanced around at the stone walls and shuddered.
Dorian shifted uneasily. Somewhere under all that nonsense, she had a point. What would an experience like that do to a person, even one as naturally serene as Seth? Perhaps especially someone like that. The Inquisitor wasn't easily rattled – a handy trait for someone constantly flinging himself into mortal peril. But every man has his limits, and Seth didn't always cope very well when they were reached. Dorian recalled how he'd received the news that Ellana and the rest of Clan Lavellan were on the brink of being slaughtered in Wycome. How chillingly detached he'd become.
There's nothing I can do about it, so there's no point in worrying.
He couldn't face the fear head on, so he locked it away. Severed his connection to it, making a virtual Tranquil of himself. Had he done something similar down here? If he had, could that connection be restored after all this time?
One thing at a time, Pavus. Let's just find him first, shall we?
"We don't know for certain he's alone," Rainier pointed out. "Maybe he found a way to get to Varric."
"Another sneaky bugger, that one," Sera said. "Wouldn't be surprised if he made a deal of his own. That's if he even needed to. I heard they stopped testing dwarves a while ago."
"Oh?" Dorian twisted in his seat to glance at her. "Why?"
"They don't change as fast as the others. Don't get as sick or whatever. The experiments take ages, so they've got more dwarves than they need. That guard I made the deal with – when I asked him about Varric, he said most of the dwarves were working in the tunnels. As miners or whatever."
That made sense. And as difficult as it was to imagine Varric with a pickaxe, it was a lot better than imagining him aglow with red lyrium.
"We're almost there," Cullen said, interrupting Dorian's thoughts. "The site of the attack is just around the corner."
The scavengers had already moved in, a pack of deepstalkers picking over the remains of men and darkspawn alike. Maggie had great fun chasing them off like a flock of seagulls – until they regrouped and circled back, at which point Dorian cast a blizzard to slow them down. Ellana and Sera let fly, careful to avoid Maggie as she tore into the horrid little things with abandon, completely unperturbed by the layer of frost bristling over her fur. By the time Cassandra and Rainier caught up, there were only a few stragglers left; Dorian didn't even wait for them to be finished off before jumping down from the wagon.
"Now, then. Let's see what we have."
What they had was a bloody mess, a grisly tapestry of flesh and bone and scraps of clothing strewn about as if a tornado had torn through the place. The reek of darkspawn was overwhelming, turning Dorian's stomach and forcing him to cover his face with his sleeve. But somehow, Maggie smelled through it, and she started whining again, just as she had before, tail wagging enthusiastically as she snuffled about. This time, Dorian trusted her with the task – though he kept a close eye on her, ready to freeze her on the spot if that was what it took to stop her sticking her nose in a puddle of Taint.
"Look here," Ellana said, crouching. "This boot print. And here…" She crab-walked a few feet and inspected what was left of a shriek. "These are dagger wounds, and…" A grin was spreading across her face. "You were right, Dorian!"
"Even I can see it," Cullen said, tilting his head. "Several people ran this way." He pointed at a branching tunnel – more of a crevice, really, so dark and narrow that Dorian hadn't even noticed it before.
Maggie was already bounding toward it, and Dorian wasn't far behind. "Ellana, Cassandra, with me! The rest of you stay with the prisoners!" Before anyone could object, he plunged into the passageway, following Seth's wolf at a jog.
"Dorian, wait!" Cassandra's voice rang off the stone. "Now is not the time to be reckless! Slow down!"
She was right, of course. It would be ironic if he'd come this far only to be skewered by a marauding shriek. But Seth's nearness taunted him like a desire demon, whispering at him from the shadows, just out of reach. His amatus was nearby. He had to be. Dorian had crossed mountains and seas to get to him. He'd fought darkspawn and fanatics and a bloody Blight bear and he wasn't going to slow down now. Not when he was this close.
He was nearly out of breath when he reached a place where the tunnel branched. Maggie had started to go left, but she was doubling back now, and Dorian watched bemusedly as she started sniffing around the tunnel to the right.
"What's going on?" Ellana trotted up, Cassandra right behind her. "Why are we stopping?"
"Maggie seems indecisive." Dorian furrowed his brow. "Perhaps he's passed through here more than once in the past few hours. I hope she—"
BOOM.
An explosion rocked the tunnel – followed by another and another, each hard upon the last in a chain reaction that shook wave after wave of debris loose from above. A crack ran up the wall, forking like lightning and splitting the ceiling open in a dozen places at once.
That's when the world started falling.
"Look out!" Cassandra shoved Ellana aside just as the ceiling caved in, unleashing a torrent of rubble. Dorian dove one way, Cassandra another; Maggie yelped and skittered away. The roar was deafening, the pounding so concussive that Dorian could feel it in his bones. He threw a hasty barrier over his friends – and staggered as a hard blow struck the back of his head, sending a flash of white light through his vision. He folded his arms over his head, lurching this way and that as the tunnel collapsed all around him. Finally there was nowhere left to run; he threw himself to the ground, curled up in a ball, and prayed he wasn't about to be smashed into paste.
At last, the rumbling stopped. Dorian opened his eyes – for all the good it did him. It was pitch black. His ears rang, and his fingers were wet with blood. Gingerly, he touched the back of his head, but the wound didn't seem to be too bad; he sent a pulse of healing magic through his fingertips to be safe.
He groped about in the dark for his staff, using it to lever himself to his feet. "Cassandra?"
The only sound was a patter of pebbles cascading down from above.
"Ellana? Maggie?"
Probing with his staff, Dorian met a ragged wall of stone. The tunnel had completely collapsed.
"Dorian?" The voice came from the far side of the cave-in, almost too muffled to make out. "Dorian, are you alive?"
"Barely. You?"
"We're all right," Ellana said. "The tunnel collapsed."
Oh, really? Collapsed, you say?
"Can you clear the debris with magic?" Cassandra's voice now, ever the pragmatic one.
"Risky. Shifting things around might cause another cave-in." He cast a mage light, but its faint glow was barely enough to navigate by, let alone assess the damage. "I don't dare. I'll have to find another way."
A pause, then Ellana's voice again. "I found this tunnel on the map. We can meet you at the other end. But, Dorian… It's a long way."
Of course it was.
Balls.
"I suppose I'd better get started, then. See you on the other side." Sighing, Dorian shouldered his pack and set off.
He walked for what seemed like hours. The tunnel cut a meandering path, twisting and turning like a drunk who couldn't find his way home. After a time, Dorian realized he was following an underground stream, its banks studded with deep mushrooms. By that point, it was the middle of the night, and he briefly considered making camp. But even if he set wards, he knew he'd never be able to sleep. He pressed on.
As time went by, the shadows seemed to take on a life of their own, scurrying at the edges of his vision. Dorian found himself talking just to fill the eerie silence.
"Oh, hello, Inquisitor. Fancy meeting you down here. By the way, what are you doing in these fetid tunnels all alone? Why, something terribly heroic, of course. You? Oh, just chasing after you like a stray dog, don't mind me. By the way, just a hunch, but was it you who decided to blow up half the Deep Roads? Say, by stumbling across an entire wagonload of gaatlock? As a matter of fact, yes. Awfully clever of me, don't you think? Well, no, actually, since you nearly squashed the rest of us like spiders. Did I? Sorry about that, but you know how it is."
His mage light was fading again, and he couldn't afford to keep wasting mana on it. He paused, glancing at the deep mushrooms lining the tunnel floor. Would their light be enough? He extinguished the spell, and a soft blue glow filled the tunnel.
"Pretty. A wonder illumination by fungus hasn't caught on in the great cities of the world."
He resumed his journey, and his monologue.
"I wonder, Inquisitor, if you might consider letting someone else take care of the world-saving for a change? Thedas is positively littered with heroes, you know. None of them are half so dashing as you, of course, but I thought perhaps it would be nice if your old friend Dorian could get through a single bloody year without contemplating your imminent demise. What do you say? Pretty please? With a fucking cherry on top?"
On and on he wandered, and still no sign of a destination. Perhaps this tunnel would never end. Perhaps he would continue walking for years, a lone hermit in a lost corner of the Deep Roads, hair down to his waist, beard braided like a dwarf's and set with beads carved out of nug bone.
Eventually, he came to a fork in the tunnel. Which was just smashing, because Ellana hadn't mentioned a thing about it. He had no idea which to choose – was almost too exhausted to care – and he'd just decided to make camp when he spied a blue glow that looked slightly suspicious. Approaching cautiously, he found a cluster of deep mushrooms that looked too dense to be natural. It was almost as if—
Something flew at him the dark, tackling him and pinning him to the ground. A blade flashed, and cold metal pressed against his throat. The figure crouched on top of him was half animal, his pupils dilated like a predator's. But Dorian had seen this face from every angle, in every sort of light, and he would know it anywhere. "Seth," he whispered.
There was no recognition in those feral eyes. The blade pressed harder, threatening to break the skin. Dorian was afraid even to breathe.
"Amatus."
He stared into those eyes, black as pitch, watching as the pupils gradually contracted into something sentient. The elf drew back, lowering the knife – but only a little. "Are you real?" he whispered.
Dorian's throat was dry, but he swallowed past it. "I'm real if you are."
The elf stared at him for a long moment. His hand started to tremble. Then the knife clattered to the ground, and Seth swooped down, taking Dorian's face in his hands and kissing him so hard it hurt. Dorian clutched at him, a sob of relief on his lips, kissing Seth over and over, ignoring the pain in the back of his head and the pain of the mechanical hand pressing into his face and the pain of Seth's knee planted perilously close to his groin, because this was all he'd ever wanted in the world and somehow he'd let himself forget it.
He couldn't have said how long they stayed like that, trading desperate, half-sobbing kisses, but eventually the elf drew back, staring at Dorian as if he still couldn't quite believe he was real.
Dorian knew the feeling. After months of dreaming about this man nearly every night, he'd found him at last. He wasn't the same – he was thin, so thin, and pale to the point of translucence. His hair hung past his cheekbones in limp strands, and the dark circles under his eyes gave him a haunted look. But he was still the most beautiful creature Dorian had ever seen, and he couldn't help brushing the back of his hand along the side of Seth's face, toying with a lock of that beloved silver hair. Even if it did need a cut. Very badly.
"You said you liked it longer," Seth said, as though reading his thoughts. He tried for a smile – and then his eyes filled, and his whole body started to shake.
Dorian had seen this before. He knew what to do.
Sitting up, Dorian gathered the elf in his arms and held him, letting his love wash over his amatus and waiting for the storm to pass.