As family reunions went, it was a decidedly spirited affair, even by Tevinter standards. Back home, a family gathering was apt to include dramatic displays of magic and perhaps even a killing or two, but not on this scale. Dorian had never set any of his relations on fire, though Maker knew he'd been tempted. And he could not recall a single family function that included a pair of Qunari squaring off like gladiators in the Proving Arena – though admittedly his recollection might have been hazy, since he made it a rule never to be sober around his family.
The Iron Bull had wasted no time seeking out his countryman, roaring a challenge in Qunlat that didn't sound at all collegial and charging the Qunari Anointed head-on – which came as something of a surprise to the Anointed's current dance partner. Poor Cullen narrowly avoided becoming the jelly in a Qunari sandwich, leaping aside just in time to avoid the brutal arc of Bull's maul. The blow connected with the Anointed's head, shattering a red lyrium horn and sending him staggering back with a howl. Somehow, he kept his feet, crouching and flaring the lyrium fins along his forearms until they were the size of axe blades. But he was tired and enraged – so much so that he didn't even notice the mage casting behind him until it was too late. Dorian shamelessly exploited the Qunari dread of demons, hitting him with a cheeky horror spell that had him running around squealing like a little girl with a spider in her hair.
Instead of being properly grateful, Bull rumbled disapprovingly. "Lay off the demons, would you?"
"Never mind that. I need your help." Dorian gestured at the writhing knot of bodies standing between him and the rest of the mages. "I need to get a message to Vivienne. If any of them drinks lyrium—"
"She knows. The Inquisitor's message covered that."
Dorian frowned. "The Inquisitor's whatnow?"
"Kinda busy here," Bull growled, readying his maul as the Qunari Anointed came at him again.
Dorian started to reply – but the words crumbled like ash on his tongue as a familiar shape came hurtling down the hill toward him. Maggie didn't engage any of the Promisers; didn't even look at them, darting between the bodies as though they were no more than trees in the forest. Dorian's gaze raked the shadows at the top of the hill, but there was no sign of Seth. That could mean only one thing, and he clung to his staff as the world seemed to tilt sickeningly under his feet.
Maggie would never leave Seth's side. Not unless…
No. She wouldn't leave his body behind. She would stay with him, even in death. If Maggie was here, Seth must have sent her.
He crouched as the wolf bounded up to his side, scanning her fur for any sign of injury. But she seemed unharmed, and as Dorian watched, a pair of pursuing Promisers appeared at the top of the hill, so out of breath they couldn't even take cover as Leliana turned and shot them down.
"Dorian!" Ellana appeared at his side, her face deathly pale. She glanced over the wolf before lifting her eyes to Dorian's, silently begging for an answer she knew he couldn't give.
Where is he?
"She'll take us to him," Dorian said, his voice catching. As if in reply, Maggie barked and sprang away, heading straight back the way she'd come. Only this time, she paused halfway up the hill to look back, making sure Dorian understood he was to follow.
He rose, eying the teeming mass of bodies at the base of the hill. Caught between two fronts of Inquisition forces, the Promisers were being cut down on both sides. But it wasn't over yet, and Dorian saw no way through the melee that wouldn't involve him expending every last drop of mana – power he might need to help Seth, and which he couldn't easily recuperate without the benefit of lyrium.
A solution arrived in the form of the Iron Bull, who strolled up to Dorian as casually as if they were at the tavern at Skyhold. "Still looking for someone meaty up front?"
He was covered in so much blood it looked like vitaar, and his free hand grasped the wrist of a Qunari arm that was no longer attached to a Qunari. Dorian had questions, but decided he didn't want the answers, so he just said, "Yes, please."
"Better stand back," Bull said, tossing the surplus limb aside and taking his maul two-handed. "This is gonna be messy."
In fact, messy did not begin to describe the bloody pulp that generally resulted from a Qunari swinging a maul in a 360-degree arc. Dorian sighed as bits of Promiser spattered his robes, even from ten feet away. It was the battle equivalent of dining with a sloppy eater, and it was rather tiresome – not to mention gruesome in the extreme. But it was also efficient, and in no time at all, Bull had bashed his way through enemy lines, allowing Dorian and Ellana to reach their allies at the top of the hill.
"Dorian, darling, you look simply dreadful." Vivienne paused in her casting to air kiss his cheeks.
"Wonderful to see you, Grand Enchanter," he replied, with only a soupçon of sarcasm. The two of them would never be friends, but they'd buried the hatchet years ago, and besides – she had just come to his rather glorious rescue. "I'd stop to chat, but I'm afraid there's unfinished business yet." He marvelled at the steadiness of his own voice, considering the fear clawing at his insides. "Our Inquisitor has gone and got himself captured, or something equally dire."
"And now it falls to you to swoop in and rescue him. How romantic."
"Terribly cliché, isn't it?" Dorian flashed a tight smile. "I trust you lot can handle this rabble?"
"Go," Leliana said, not even pausing as she sent arrow after arrow into the melee. "We will finish this. Malkar is yours."
"Meet us at Daerwin's Mouth," Vivienne added, tugging on the Veil once more.
"Krem!" Bull roared down the hill. "You're in command! Got an errand to run!"
"Got it, Chief!" came the reply from... somewhere.
"Let's go," Bull said, slinging his maul into its harness. "This Malkar guy doesn't mess around. If he's got the Inquisitor, there's no time to lose."
As though Dorian needed to be told. His mouth was dry, his heart hammering against his ribs. But he needed to put on a brave face for Ellana, so he just said, "At least we have a guide. Maggie will take us straight to him." The three of them set off at a run, the wolf streaking out ahead as she led them back toward the Forgotten Caverns. "What did you mean before?" Dorian asked as they ran. "About a message from the Inquisitor?"
"Red got a letter from him about a week ago. He'd given it to some prisoners he set free, asked them to send it on from Highever."
Of course he did. Dorian sighed, marvelling for the millionth time at how resourceful his amatus could be. "He explained about Malkar, obviously."
"And about the Anointed, and all the weird crap they can do. That's why Red recruited Vivienne in Val Royeaux. She'd already sent word to me, but she figured we needed more men. Looks like she was right."
"Well, you certainly came along at the right time."
"Yeah." Bull grinned. "That was badass."
"It was so melodramatic I thought for a moment I was in one of Varric's books."
"You saved our hides," Ellana put in. "Thank you, Bull."
"Oh, hey. Good to meet you, little sister."
"And you. I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Don't worry. Your brother has been in worse scrapes than this."
It was a valiant effort, but Dorian had seen the look in the Qunari's eye, and he knew Bull didn't really believe that.
"We can use the lift," Bull said. "We cleared it on the way down. Bit messy, though, so watch your boots."
It was eerily quiet around Heidrun Thaig, as though even the deepstalkers and the nugs knew better than to show themselves. And the closer they got to Malkar's lair, the more the hairs on the back of Dorian's neck stood on end. The proximity to red lyrium, perhaps? Or was it all in his head? Whatever the case, Dorian slowed instinctively, his grip tightening around his staff. A large chamber lay ahead, and Maggie's cautious gait as she approached it was all the warning Dorian needed.
He called her softly and she circled back to him, whereupon he told her to stay put. "And this time, I mean it." He pointed sternly at the ground, and Maggie lowered herself to her belly with a whine. When Ellana gave him a quizzical look, he said, "She'll only get in the way." Which wasn't quite true, but he'd rather keep the wolf out of trouble if he could help it.
Upon entering the chamber, they saw straightaway what had alerted the wolf. A pair of corrupted animals lay in pools of semi-dried blood, their lyrium-infected bodies still glowing subtly, even in death. One was a cretahl, making it distantly possible that the corruption was accidental. But the other, a lyrium-infected quillback, left little doubt about the origin of these creatures.
"Malkar's pets," Dorian growled, releasing his barrier as he crouched to inspect the quillback. "I wonder if Seth freed them as a distraction?"
"I don't think so," Ellana said in a shaky whisper. "These are dagger wounds. I think…"
"You're right. Look." Grimly, Bull bent over the cretahl and retrieved a dagger.
Seth's dagger.
Dorian's stomach clenched so hard it hurt, but he tried to keep it together. "Well. We suspected as much, did we not? Now we just need to find where they've taken him."
"No," said a voice. "You don't." Cold steel pressed against Dorian's throat. A dwarf, judging from the angle of the blade.
Carta. Sneaky buggers, the lot of them.
Ellana drew her bow, but it was a waste of time. Dwarves appeared out of every shadow, weapons at the ready. They'd been lying in wait for the inevitable rescue party, and Dorian had delivered his friends right into their arms.
You wretched fool. Once again, his desire to protect had betrayed him. Maggie would have warned them of the trap. Instead, he'd left her behind, and in doing so, failed Seth.
Despair settled over him like a dusting of snow. All he could do was watch as Ellana and Bull were disarmed, their hands bound behind their backs. Dorian received the same treatment – plus a delightful little bonus in the form of a filthy rag tied between his jaws, preventing him from uttering a single syllable of a spell. Then they were marched through the tunnels toward a maze of ruins throbbing with the glow of red lyrium.
A Red Templar stood guard at a doorway just ahead. "Got a present for your boss," one of the Carta men said by way of greeting.
"I'll take them from here," the guard replied. "Only members of the Order are permitted inside the Redeemer's laboratory. Aside from the test subjects, of course."
"Of course," the dwarf said sourly. "Just make sure you tell the Redeemer how you came by these."
"Your service will be rewarded," the guard said, opening the door and shoving Dorian inside.
The sight that greeted him was the stuff of nightmares. Bodies lay stacked in the corner like so much firewood, human and elven and Qunari, their corpses giving off a sickly red glow. Shards of red lyrium were laid out in neat lines across a large table, along with an assortment of tools: hammers and chisels, punchers and rasps, pliers and tongs and a rather large syringe. Huge hooks had been driven into the ceiling – and from one of these dangled a prisoner, bound and gagged and stripped to the waist, silver hair hanging limply from his drooping head. Dorian writhed in his captor's grasp, but it was useless; all he succeeded in doing was getting himself thrown roughly against the wall. Seth raised his head at the sound, and the look of despair that came into his eyes when he saw Dorian was like a blade to the heart.
"Ah!" said a cheerful voice, and a young Anointed strolled into the room, wiping blood from his hands with a rag.
Whatever Dorian had expected Aerion Malkar to be, it wasn't this. A world-destroying fanatic ought to look like Corypheus: dark and withered, with an unmistakable glint of madness in his eyes. Instead, Malkar was bright-eyed and fair, even handsome, despite the crest of red lyrium running down his spine. He reminded Dorian perversely of Cullen – except for the cold cruelty of his gaze, which travelled over Dorian now.
"Magister Pavus, I presume. How kind of you to join us. And you've brought friends."
Seth made a sound of pure anguish as Ellana was dragged into the room.
"I hoped you might be taken alive," Malkar said conversationally as Dorian and the others were hoisted up by their wrists, dangling from the hooks so that their feet didn't quite reach the ground. "I find myself short of mages for these experiments. They respond quite differently to the exposure, as I'm sure you know. You've seen the results yourself, if I'm not mistaken?"
Malkar paused as if waiting for an answer. Dorian obliged him, though his reply was swallowed by the gag – which was just as well, because the particular words he'd chosen, while brief, were decidedly off-topic.
"You can take that off him," Malkar said with an airy gesture at his underling. "I'm quite capable of keeping him in check."
Dorian turned his head and spat as the rag was removed. Then he said, "I'm going to kill you."
"An improbable outcome," Malkar returned mildly.
"Perhaps not as improbable as you think," Dorian said, equally mildly. He'd spent half his life wearing a mask of smug confidence, and for his allies' sake, he donned it now. "Your followers are currently being ground into paste. Your man – Krellis, was it? – found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. Literally. You won't get anywhere near the titan."
If Malkar was distressed at this news, he gave no sign. "I'm a patient man. If we do not reach the titan today, we will reach it tomorrow, or a year from now. It matters little. We have more allies than you know. Carta. Qunari. Even former Venatori." He shrugged. "The Maker is with us, and His will shall be done, one way or another."
"That's crap," Bull growled. "What Qunari?"
Malkar was only too happy to answer. "Most who follow the Qun are mere sheep. But there are those who believe your Triumvirate is every bit as much of a fraud as our Divine. They recognize the vision in what we aim to achieve, and the role it will play in helping to deliver their own vision. But listen to me, prattling on when we have things to do." He smiled at Dorian. "I have such plans for you, Magister Pavus. We will make something beautiful together, you and I."
"An intriguing proposal, but I'm afraid you're just not my type."
A look of irritation crossed Malkar's features – so of course Dorian dug in deeper.
"I've never been all that interested in strapping alpha males. Besides, if you're going to go that route, I think you go all the way and get yourself a big slab of Qunari."
Bull didn't miss his cue. "Damn, Dorian, if I'd known I had a shot with you…"
"In another life, my pungent friend. In another life."
"Enough." Malkar picked up the rag and jammed it back in Dorian's mouth. Then he turned to Seth, considering him with a tilt of his head. "We'll start with you, I think. I have high hopes for you, Inquisitor. Every subject is a little different. How much lyrium it takes to infect them. Whether they live or die. What they become if they do live. So many variables, so many different outcomes. It's really quite fascinating. And a specimen of your calibre doesn't come along every day."
"I'd re-think that if I were you," Bull said, baring his teeth in a mockery of a smile. "See, Dorian here is a pretty damn good mage. And then there's me. I'm thinking about all the ways I can snap your spine with my bare hands. But if you ask me, the one you really need to worry about is the sister there." He tilted his head at Ellana, whose eyes burned with such raw hatred that Dorian could practically feel the heat rolling off her. "If she's even a little like her brother, she's going to kill the shit out of you before you even know what happened."
Malkar snorted softly. "I'll take my chances. Still, if what you say is true and my men are under attack, perhaps I ought to choose a more expedient route for this experiment." He regarded the table of implements with a critical eye, but he left them alone, strolling up to Seth with his hands folded thoughtfully behind his back. "I've experimented with virtually every means of infecting an individual with red lyrium. Ingestion. Injection. Respiration. But you know, sometimes the simplest route is best."
He looked up at Seth and smiled. And before Dorian could even scream, he drew a red lyrium dagger and plunged it into Seth's side.