Chapter 7: Not There

A few days later, Solas's piece was finally finished. No larger than his hand the small statue of Fen'Harel perfectly matched the one from the ruins, complete with tiny, delicate white flowers and lush green vines overtaking it.

"You know, Cole came around here the other day and asked me to make a wooden duck with wheels on it. Any idea what that's about?" Blackwall asked, leaning against the table and glancing over the freshly lacquered toys.

"Not in the slightest. Perhaps it relates to a memory from someone's childhood and he wishes to provide a bit of comfort for an ailing individual. It would not be the first time he had done something of a similar nature."

Blackwall stroked his beard. "I suppose not. He does odd things like that from time to time. Did I ever tell you about the time I found a bucket of horseshoes hidden behind a vase in one of the barracks when it was being remodeled? I asked Cole about it and he told me he hid them because the horses don't like the 'clickity-clackity' on cobblestones." He chuckled, shaking his head. "He's an odd one, but his heart's in the right place, I-"

The doors suddenly burst open and there stood Dorian, panting and out of breath. He pointed to the two of them and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "To the war room, now!"

Blackwall and Solas exchanged a look, perplexed by the sudden interruption.

"Hurry!" Dorian shouted, clearly in a barely controlled panic. That changed things, because both of them had spent enough time with Dorian by now to know that Dorian never panicked even under fire, and soon both men were running to keep up with him.

"What is it?" Solas asked, matching Dorian's stride as they ran up the stairs.

"You'll know soon enough," was his only response.

They made it to the war room at the same time as Cassandra and Cullen. Leliana and Josephine were already there, talking in short whispers and looking very grave. Cole appeared behind them, mumbling incoherently to himself. Morrigan was the last to arrive, yellow eyes bright and wary. They all looked from to another, tense, waiting.

Finally, Leliana and Josephine stopped their hurried whispers and Leliana stepped forward, holding a small raven's message in her hand. When she spoke, her voice was tight and strained. "We've had a report from The Iron Bull come in moments ago. The details are limited, but they ran into an ambush of Venatori mages. They were severely outnumbered. Varric and Sera are both recovering from serious injuries. The Iron Bull was also wounded in the ambush, but they were able to escape. The Inquisitor was not so lucky. She was captured by the Venatori." She swallowed and then continued. "We do not know what her status is, but our scouts believe that she is being held at Caer Corswinn, a fortress located here." She pointed to the map. "It's location on the peninsula cliffside makes it impossible to get close enough for more information. We have not received any requests for ransom as of yet, but if this report is true and it was the Venatori who captured her, we are unlikely to receive one. And if that is the case, we must assume Corypheus is aware that the Inquisitor has been apprehended by his agents."

All the blood drained away from the faces around the table.

Solas couldn't breathe. He couldn't speak, despite all the questions spinning around in his mind.

"Maker's breath," Cullen murmured in disbelief, covering his mouth with his hand.

"How could this have happened?" Cassandra stepped forward, looking from one to the next, aghast. "This can't be true! It can't! There must be some mistake. The report must be false or a forgery-"

"It is real, I assure you," Leliana stated, though she too wore an aggrieved expression.

"Is she-" Blackwall began, before his voice broke and he shook his head, steeling himself before starting again. "Is she alive?"

The air vanished from the room as they all looked to Leliana. "I do not know. The report says only that she was taken hostage. As to her condition… I cannot say." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I may not be able to speak of her current state," Morrigan said, stepping forward. "But it is unlikely she is dead. Word of that would travel faster than any spy's report. 'Tis most likely she is being held at the moment. Perhaps for experimentation or interrogation, although if that proves useless, it is likely Corypheus will execute her himself in some public form to solidify his domination over the Inquisition and the rest of Thedas." Her cavalier tone earned her glares of hatred and disgust from all around the room. "This is good," she explained to them like they were slow on the uptake, not quite understanding their concern was over the wellbeing of their friend and not political machinations for power. "It means we have a window of opportunity, assuming she has not yet already expired."

Before anyone could murder her, and from the livid looks around the room, that was highly likely, Josephine stepped forward. "She is right. We have a small amount of time in which to attempt to rescue her. We know the fortress where she is being held, most likely. Corypheus is on the other side of the map," she said, pointing to the spot marking his last known location. We may be able to recover her before he comes for her, but we will have to be swift."

"Our forces won't clear the mountains in time for an assault on the fortress," Cullen assessed, gripping the table so hard his gloves creaked. "We have some troops in the villages here and here, but it would not be enough for a frontal assault."

"We might be able to convince the arls to lend their support and additional forces, but that would take considerable time to arrange. Time we do not have," Josephine said, her voice cracking at the end. She quickly brushed aside a tear that spilled down her cheek. "Which is why our best bet is to send in a small force to extract her. We need all of you," she stated, looking to each of them in turn.

"You have our full support," Cassandra said, pledging herself with the salute by bringing her fist across her chest over her heart.

"Aye," Blackwall agreed.

"Before we jump into this mess with reckless abandon, might I suggest we start by making a plan and gather what little information we have?" Dorian suggested. "For instance, how we might get in and out, what we might face inside, and whether or not she's still alive?"

"Cole?" Solas spoke at last, finding his voice. "Can you sense anything? Can you feel her spirit?"

Cole shook his head. "She is too far away, I can't reach."

Solas stepped forward, pointing at the map to the fortress. "It is likely she is here, Cole. You are still attuned to the Fade. You know what her spirit feels like to you. Please, try to reach out."

Cole closed his eyes and tilted his head, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. "There is a light. Like a star, burning, but blinding. It's too bright! I can't see past it!" Cole shook his head, panicking.

"Don't try to see then. What do you feel?" He tried his best to keep his response measured, to hide the desperation and agony twisting in his heart. He had to know.

Cole tilted his head again. "It's… strange. She is there, but also not."

"What does that mean?" Blackwall asked, looking at Solas for interpretation.

"Perhaps she has been made Tranquil," Morrigan suggested.

"No!" Cullen gasped in alarm.

Solas's heart dropped in his stomach.

"We can try to reverse Tranquility. There is a method. I have read about it," Cassandra stated, desperation coloring her voice.

"We don't know that's what has happened. It is possible she may be unconscious or drugged or in a severe amount of pain," Dorian cut in. "Or perhaps Cole's abilities are not well-suited to pick out what one person is feeling halfway across a map." He turned to Solas. "Can you try reaching her in the Fade?"

Hope swelled in Solas's chest. "Yes. It may take a few hours, but I could search the Fade for additional information on the fortress as well. Search the layout, recent memories, anything that might give us an advantage."

Leliana nodded. "That would prove most useful."

"Time is still of the essence. We should plan to leave before nightfall," Cullen said, tapping the map with two fingers.

"We will leave before nightfall. You, Leliana, and Josephine must stay," Cassandra said firmly.

Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but Leliana stepped forward. "No, she is right. We must continue to run the Inquisition in Lavellan's absence. We cannot afford to leave ourselves vulnerable."

"Can we still call ourselves The Inquisition if we do not have The Inquisitor?" Cullen asked sullenly.

"Of course!" Cassandra crossed her arms and scowled at him. "The Inquisition is not one person. It is all of us. She would not let us forget that."

Solas agreed and swelled with pride at her sentiment regarding Lavellan's nature. It was precisely what she would do.

"Then it is decided. Gather your supplies for the trip. We will meet back here in a few hours once we have had time to strategize. Solas, find out what you can from The Fade. Blackwall, ready the horses. It will be a hard ride, but you may manage it in a few days if you are lucky."

"Might I suggest an alternative means of transport," Morrigan offered. "The eluvian in my possession has a connection to this point here," she said, tapping a spot on the map less than a day's ride from the fortress.

"An eluvian?" Solas looked over at Morrigan in surprise.

"Mind filling in the rest of us on what it is you're talking about?" Dorian drawled with a gesture of his hand.

"It is a portal between places. They often require a key to open. I have the ability to open the one that will lead us here. A small group may pass through and arrive much sooner than on horseback. It will give us precious time we may need."

"Excellent," Leliana nodded. "Morrigan will guide the party to the destination then. In the meantime, prepare yourselves. This will not be an easy task."

They dispersed and Solas left the war room driven by a single, solitary purpose: to find her. Dorian went alongside him and when they reached the circular room of murals, he put a hand on Solas's shoulder. The gesture was unusual, as Dorian (and most others) kept their personal distance from him, but Solas recognized it as a well-meaning gesture of compassion.

"I am so sorry, Solas. I cannot imagine the pain you must feel at the moment." He shook his head, searching for some other words of comfort, but for once Dorian's clever tongue came up with nothing.

"Thank you, friend. But at this moment it is not my own well-being with which I am most concerned. Now, please, if you'll excuse me, I require privacy."

Dorian nodded and left him to his own devices.

Once he was alone, Solas sat down in a meditative pose. It was no simple task to set aside the fear and worry pounding away in his aching heart, but after a time he managed it and was able to enter the Fade.

He drew himself to Skyhold first, in case she sought refuge on familiar territory. He scoured the place quickly, passing the whispered call of memories from ages past. He searched his own room and hers and any other place where he could think of, but she was not there. A growing sense of dread filled his stomach as he searched for her. Logically, if she was of sound mind she would know to try and reach him through the Fade. If she was not here, then it meant something was wrong and he did not like the fear instilled by that thought and the terrible images it conjured up in his mind's eye.

Transporting himself to the Caer Corswinn, he approached the structure, passing through memories and history as he did so. Fallen soldiers lying in heaps at his waist lined the outer walls in a failed frontal assault on the castle. They cried out in agony, their blood seeping deep into the earth. Arrows and rocks battered down on armored men, sprouting up from the grass like strange flowers. A chevalier passed with him beneath the archway, returned to find his father dead. His screams echoed behind Solas as he climbed up switchback stairs to the entrance of the keep. Antechambers and vestibules once hung with glittering gold tapestries faded and glowed as he stepped through the layers of time, passing by conversations and events that crowded the space.

He took a breath and cleared his mind, seeking out her presence. Something distant, yet familiar caught his attention and he followed it, trying to parse out what it was. A large upper courtyard opened up, and an unnatural hum drew his attention to a slave's memory: sweating and exerting under a hot sun as positioned the large metal instruments into place. Others hung large, heavy chains from the high outer walls, raising an enormous crystal up over a slab of onyx, though as to what purpose, he could not say. The familiar sensation arose and he turned to see wolves slinking back and forth, watching the slaves, their eyes glowing an unnatural red. Another corrupted creature fused with red lyrium, perhaps? The wolves' red eyes followed him as he continued his explorations of the keep.

He turned down countless hallways and staircases that spiraled down into the deep underbelly of the fortress until he came to the dungeons. Old howls of broken men and women cried out from behind the bars; their pain still etched into the memory of the stone. For one who prided himself on his composure, the howls unnerved him at the thought of his beloved trapped in such a place. Terrible thoughts sprung to his mind as he wanted nothing more than to not find her in such an abominable place, and yet he also prayed that he did find her here because it meant she was still alive. Tearing claws reached through the bars of spirits driven to madness in the despair of their imprisonment. His heart pounded in her chest as he turned every corner at each fresh new horror.

When he opened a room at the end of one hall the sound of screams, the vile scent of burning flesh mixed with fresh blood and other putrid smells, as well as the feeling of unbearable pain pressing forth like a tidal wave, nearly knocked his feet out from under him. Summoning his strength, he threw aside these memories until he reached out and felt a fresh shock or horror as he recognized the screams and the faint scent of embrium and woodsmoke at the memory he had touched. Fear and terror filled his heart as he opened the memory to reveal it in full, but he had to-he had to know.

Hanging from shackles in the ceiling was his beloved. Her head drooped forward and blood streamed down from her nose. Her face was swollen on the right side and she grimaced in pain as the man in front of her, himself the size of a bear, landed a blow to her ribs with a sickening crack. She cried out in pain and then went limp again, panting for breath that now came in strained wheezes. The man grabbed her chin and she groaned and feebly tried to pull away from him, but he only squeezed harder.

Solas would have given anything to physically attack this man. He knew that if he could reach through the memory and wrap his hands around the man's throat to strangle him until the life left his body, he would do it with a smile on his face.

"To be honest, I don't really care if you never say a word, little elf. They said they want answers, but no one is going to care much if I come back empty-handed. They'll get what they want from you one way or another. I've just gotta make sure you keep breathing. But that's all. So what do you say we have a little more fun?" He unrolled a leather bundle of various sharp, metal instruments and passed a loving hand over them. "Which one shall we start with?" he mused.

Lavellan murmured something under her breath and he turned around.

"What was that? Finally decided to start singing, little bird?"

Again she murmured something under her breath.

In an angry stride he crossed the room and yanked her head back by her hair and shouted into her face, "I don't speak fuckin' elvish, you dumb bitch!"

But Solas did and the words sent a shiver down his spine, for she had whispered, "Come closer, so I can kill you."

And the fool had obeyed, unknowingly. When his face was close enough to hers she whispered, "I know" in the common tongue and then in a movement so fast and with an incredible effort of strength she kicked him in the groin and when he fell she wrapped her legs around his neck and snapped it. The man fell before the guard watching from the doorway had time to react, but then he leapt forward, calling for backup and she opened her left palm and a blinding flash of green light blinded him and she kicked him back into the table covered in metal instruments and he fell along with everything else with a loud clatter.

Other guards arrived, shocked by the scene before them as she swung from the chains, chuckling darkly in the dim light of the torches as a Venatori mage shouted, "What happened? What the hell happened?" in his native tongue.

Though Solas doubted she understood the Tevene words in full, she stared at the Venatori and said, "Like that? Trick I learned from an old friend."

The Venatori shocked her with a lighting spell and several other guards hurried forward to neutralize her, though they seemed reluctant to get close to her so near the dead body.

The memory faded as she lost consciousness from a second spell, leaving Solas alone.

He held the memory for a moment longer in his hands, his body numb. Then his feet were moving of their own accord, following through the door and down a hall where a heavy door of stone inscribed with arcane symbols lay before him. Based on the symbols and the construction, he knew this must be where they were keeping her prisoner. A bright light emanated from under the door and he opened it to reveal a blinding green glow. Shielding his eyes he knelt down beside her. She was curled into a small ball, clutching her left hand to her chest, hair in disarray around her.

"Ma vhenan. I am here. Please, vhenan," he knelt down, but she did not respond to his voice. "Vhenan?" He tried to gently shake her arm, but his hand passed through her. He stared at his hand, confused, as Cole's comment of 'she is there, but also not' rang in his head. She was here and there in the prison cell in the Fade and in the real world, but she also… wasn't. Fear of Tranquility or something worse threw him into despair. He crumpled, shaking with frustration as he tried to reach her and received no answer. Was she even still there? Had everything she used to be, all her passion and vivacity, had it all disappeared? Was she even the same person? Would he even be able to reach her if he was there in person? Or was the cause already lost? Was she already lost to him?

Hot tears pricked behind his eyes. Had he lost the person he loved most in this world? Had he driven her away into this terrible place? What had been the last words he'd spoken to her? He tried to recall. The last time he had spoken to her he had made her cry. Pain stabbed at his heart like a cold knife. He had driven her away. He had crushed her heart. And his own. His head fell into his hands. Pressing against his eyes, burning with self-hatred, he cursed himself. Had he not seen enough of war to know that it was important to cherish the few precious moments of happiness where they came? To love while it was possible to love, for who knew what terrible fate tomorrow might bring? Was it so terrible a thing to love and be loved? He felt like a fool. A stupid, moronic idiot. How could he have done this to her? He loved her and yet he distanced himself from her. He wanted to stay with her those nights when she asked. Yet he had left, telling himself it was for the best. So he would stay. Until he could be with her, even if she might not know he was there, he would stay. He lay down on the stone floor beside her and let tears drip onto the floor.

When he emerged from his slumber, he felt dazed and broken. Real tears left wet lines down his cheeks and he rubbed them away. It was not often that his real body responded to what happened in the Fade. He stood and crossed to the wash basin on the table and splashed cool water on his face, trying to find some relief.

Once he had patted his face with a cloth Dorian arrived, as if summoned, carrying a bottle of whiskey, a cup of tea, and a tray of cheese scones. "Oh good, you're back," Dorian said cheerily as he entered, as if he hadn't been glancing down from the balcony of the library every three seconds to check. "Now, shall it be tea or whiskey?"

"Whiskey," Solas replied and it was then that Dorian paused and looked him in the eye.

His face fell. "No. No, she isn't dead, is she? She can't be dead. She's come so far."

"She's not dead," Solas said numbly. "But Cole was right. She's not 'there' as she ought to be. I couldn't talk to her. I couldn't reach her."

"Well what the bloody hell does that mean? Where could she have gone? Is Morrigan's Tranquility theory correct? Did they scoop her brains out? Or is this some kind of blood magic? Please tell me it isn't some form of necromancy."

Solas just shook his head. "I don't know."

Dorian slumped into the chair across from him and uncorked the whiskey. He handed Solas a healthy measure and then tossed back his full glass himself. "We'll get her back. You know the layout of that fortress now, right? We'll get her back, safe and sound."

Solas peered at the glass in his hand, not really seeing it. "I am afraid we will arrive and it will already be too late. Either they will have killed her, or done something so terrible that she is no longer herself. And I don't know which is worse." He shook his head and swallowed the whiskey, letting it burn down his throat.

Dorian shook his head. "You can't talk like that, Solas. We don't know what's happened. But she is there and we will go and find her and bring her back. She would not want you to give in to despair. There is plenty of time for that later." He took another swig of his whiskey. "Now what we need is a plan to get her out. Because while I love our good old-fashioned run-in-with-no-plan-at-all-and-start-killing-things strategy, there is a stronger case for going into a rescue mission with some preparation in mind."

Solas pulled forth a sheet of parchment and began to sketch the layout he had seen, talking Dorian through some of the possibilities.

"Hm, I still think our best option is to try sneaking in through the dead man's drop, no matter how revolting that sounds. If we can climb up and sneak in, we could be in and out of the prison cells without anyone having been the wiser."

"And how do you propose we get her out if she's injured and can't walk?"

"Besides lashing her to Bull's shoulders?" Dorian shrugged.

They gathered their supplies and headed to meet with the others. Everyone listened carefully to Solas, committing his sketches and notes on the fortress to memory as they built out their plan.

By the time they passed through the Eluvian, Solas could think of nothing else besides the mission.

As they made their way through the eerie courtyard of shattered eluvians, Blackwall came up beside Solas with a question. "This place is strange. Do you know who destroyed all these mirrors? If it makes it this easy to travel from one place to the next, I can't imagine why anyone would break them."

"Perhaps that is precisely why they were destroyed. To ensure that no one could get through. They are a powerful tool, yes, but in the wrong hands they are also a powerful weapon."

Blackwall squinted in the dark as they passed by shattered fragments. He turned to ask another question, but saw something in Solas's determined expression that stopped him. "I'm sorry, Solas. I know this can't be easy for you."

"It's not the first time I've been amongst elven ruins. I may not like the desecration of such artifacts, but the sight is not unfamiliar by now."

Blackwall shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I'm sorry about what happened to the Inquisitor. I know it must be hard, worrying about a person you care deeply about."

Solas repressed a sigh. Did everyone know about his feelings for her? "Where did you hear that?"

Blackwall almost laughed. "I didn't hear it from anywhere. I saw it. The way you threw yourself into perfecting that wolf carving. I've been around long enough to know what a man looks like when he's thinking of his beloved and wishing they were together. Plus, I saw your face when Leliana delivered the news. Looked like someone had cut your heart right out of your chest."

Solas said nothing, biting his lip for a time.

"Look, I won't go around spreading it like gossip if you want to keep it quiet."

Solas gave him an appreciative look. "That is very kind of you." And then, remembering previous iterations of this conversation, asked, "Who did you make your bet with?"

"Vivienne. I'm going to owe her the price of a small duchy now though."

"Tell me, was there some meeting I was not privy to where you all took bets on whether or not I would enter into a relationship with the Inquisitor?"

Blackwall's cheeks colored a rosy pink. "It might've come up during a round of Wicked Grace late one night. Although it might not have been stated in quite those terms."

Solas shook his head and sighed. "People will always make assumptions, I suppose. At least I now know which of our companions made bets against me," he remarked, a note of resentment coloring his voice. Blackwall was oddly quiet for a moment and Solas stared at him in disbelief. "There's more?"

Blackwall's cheeks grew even redder. "Well, as it happens, a few others made bets as well. Cullen owes Krem, Josephine owes Leliana, and I think the barman owes the bard too."

"Are you telling me everyone in the castle cast a vote, save Cassandra and Cole?"

Blackwall rubbed the back of his head. "Er, technically, Cole might have made one of his strange comments about you feeling something for The Lady Inquisitor but not acting on it and Cassandra refuted, but you know she's a romantic at heart, and besides, I don't think they put any money on it. Not like Cole really understands gold…" Blackwall continued to ramble until they finally reached the second eluvian.

Morrigan withdrew something from her hand and the eluvian awakened in a brilliant burst of soft blue light. They passed through it and entered through a dark cave. Luckily, nothing seemed to be occupying the cave at present and they were able to make good time, arriving at the camp where Iron Bull, Sera, Varric, and Scout Harding were still stationed.