If Varric stared at the blueprints much longer, he'd really need glasses. And the minute he actually started needing glasses was the minute he could no longer deny Hawke's jokes about how fucking old he'd gotten. Damnit if he was going to let Hawke have the last word in that argument.
Honestly, the plan was simple enough. Maria would go in the front with him, Cassandra, and Bull. Dorian and the rest, minus Cole who'd been assigned to babysit and utterly mutinous Beatrix in Haven, would go through the abandoned subway tunnels with a handpicked squad of veteran soldiers. They'd surprise the grubby Magister, steal the witches from under his nose, and make sure Maria didn't get herself assassinated.
Easy. Except, of course, for all the shit that could go wrong.
The phone vibrated in his hand, the screen flashing Bianca Davri's name. Varric sighed, irritated, and made to reject the call. At the last second he paused, torn. He'd put himself in a dangerous situation, again, one he very well may not emerge from. Did he really want his last conversation with Bianca to be that fucking shitshow in Val Royeaux?
Before he could talk himself out of it, he accepted the call and sent it straight to his earpiece so he could continue to stare at the blueprints. "If you're calling to apologize, I'd recommend sending a card to Maria Cadash instead. Maybe flowers too."
"Shut up." Bianca snapped immediately, her voice tense. "Are you seriously on your way back to Redcliffe?"
"Already here." Well, close enough anyway. The Inquisition set up a staging area several miles away from the city. Cullen assured them it was strategically secret. Behind him, Varric could hear Cassandra's voice barking out orders. "What's wrong?"
"Varric, you're going to get yourself killed." He recognized the tone she was using. That tone she always adopted when she thought he was doing something stupid that was going to blow up in their faces. The one that never actually made him reconsider his plans but always caused a surge of guilt. "Why? Why on our ancestor's graves are you…"
"It's the right thing to do." Varric supplied. "If I'm here there's a bigger chance everyone goes home. Hell, it'll give me some good material for my next book at least. Pick a reason."
"You're an idiot for a pretty face." Bianca muttered.
"It doesn't hurt." Varric could admit that, at least. There wasn't any harm in that as long as he remembered that pursuing the Herald of Andraste was a disaster waiting to happen. He could look, but he couldn't touch. "You're wrong about her. I know you're not wrong about much, but this time you've made a mistake."
"Varric…"
"And even if you were right, which, let me reiterate, you're not." Varric dropped his voice low. "It doesn't matter when she's the only one with any hope of making sure the world doesn't collapse on our heads."
"I don't care about the fucking world Varric." Bianca's voice shook with anguish. "I care about you."
Damnit. Varric couldn't ignore the surge of pain in his chest, the dull throb in his forehead. He swallowed against the bitterness, the million unanswered questions, the recriminations. "Just leave." Bianca begged. "Just go somewhere. Anywhere. We can go to Rivain, just like you always wanted."
"No we won't." Varric sighed.
"I promise this time." It wasn't the first time he heard those words. Somehow, they always sounded sincere. Maybe, in the moment, they were. But Varric would emerge from danger and nothing would change. Nothing ever changed. "I swear, Varric…"
"Bianca…"
"I love you." He could hear the tears now. Varric closed his eyes and he could picture her blonde hair mussed the way it always was when she worked because she constantly ran her fingers through it, turquoise eyes sparkling with suppressed emotion, beseeching him to stay.
"I know." Varric's grip on his phone tightened, he stared at the screen still but he wasn't seeing it anymore. He pictured the life they could have had. Should have had. "And I do too. A part of me always will."
A younger part, a more innocent part. A cocky kid who thought his cleverness and good looks would win the brilliant woman everyone vied for. Once, it had been that easy. Maybe it could have stayed that easy.
If she hadn't married someone else.
"I know you're mad. But we'll fix it, we always do. We'll make it right." Bianca soothed. "Just come home, okay? Make it out alive and come back to me."
"I'll try." To make it out alive, anyway. As to whether or not they could fix it, make this nebulous thing between them work one more time… "But we're getting too old for this shit, and you know it."
She laughed, the sound choked with sorrow. He could always make her laugh, at least.
"Varric?" Maria called from behind him, the sound bright and clear as a bell. He could tell Bianca heard it too, could hear her brief lapse into humor cut itself off cold. "Varric, it's time to go."
Varric turned to look over his shoulder. Maria stood with her hands shoved into her coat pockets, her face drawn and serious but eyes calm and steady. She wasn't panicking, not yet at any rate. She had all the hallmarks of a woman who'd made a decision and was going to stick with it come hell or high water. If she was frightened, he couldn't tell.
It was the same steely determination that got them up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes as she slowly deteriorated. Varric could appreciate her steadfastness. Now, perhaps, more than any other time.
"Well, time to get the show on the road then." Varric grinned at Maria and pointed to his earpiece, holding up his other finger to ask for a minute. "I'll call after. Take care of yourself."
"I'll hold you to that, Varric." Bianca said quietly. "Be careful."
With that, the line went dead. Varric was left with nothing but silence in his ear and Maria's gray eyes burning into him. Varric rubbed his forehead briskly and slipped his phone into his pocket. Maria's lips tipped up just slightly on one side and she shrugged. "Sorry. Hard to tell when you're on the phone or when you're just listening to the computer."
"You're not going to believe this, but they made a drinking game of it in Kirkwall. They bet on whether or not I was staring off into space listening to Bianca or a conference call. Loser had to buy the winner a shot." Varric smirked to himself. "I amended the rules to say I also needed a beer purchased for me every time they played. Consolation prize just in case I was on a conference call."
"I absolutely believe that. It sounds exactly like something those friends of yours would dream up." Maria reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind the delicate curve of her ear. She cast her gray eyes over the rushing soldiers, over their little team, frowning in concentration.
"This is going to work." Varric claimed confidently. "Somehow, it always does. And you're lucky so we've got that going for us."
She scoffed at that, fixing him with an expression so skeptical he chuckled at it. "Right." She said dryly. "If we're counting on my luck we're fucking screwed."
"I hate to be the one to point this out." Varric gestured to her theatrically. "But, you definitely should be dead. At least two times that I know of."
She scowled at that and bit her lip, probably not hard enough to draw blood but a close thing. Varric scrambled, tried to come up with something to say to erase that expression…
"Three." She admitted softly. "I should have been dead three times. That I know of."
She didn't meet his eyes, but she rolled her shoulders carelessly. "But you're right. It's going to work. It has to."
Varric started to feel twitchy almost immediately after the gates to Redcliffe slammed shut behind them. To their credit, nobody in their little group flinched or looked over their shoulders. Still, the tension radiated from them in a variety of different ways. Maria stroked her fingers up and down her left wrist repeatedly, tracing her tattoo. Bull's deceptively casual stance didn't hide the way his one eye scanned the streets they walked down. Cassandra's jaw was clenched so tightly a vein throbbed near her temple.
"Are you armed?" A witch asked nervously, meeting them outside the hotel, eyes landing on the rather obvious assault rifle swung over Bull's shoulders. "The Magister wishes this to be a friendly meeting…"
"He's armed, isn't he?" Cassandra snapped impatiently.
"If the Herald will disarm…" The witch swallowed, eyes flicking from side to side in dread. "I would be pleased to take her to the Magister…"
"Alone?" Maria asked calmly. The witch nodded frantically and Maria smiled and shook her head. "No. I'm afraid I can't be expected to negotiate without my assistants."
The fact that one of her assistants looked visibly capable of ripping a Magister limb from limb would definitely be an effective negotiating tactic. If they were actually going to negotiate, anyway.
But Varric guessed the Magister didn't want to give them a sportsmanlike chance when walking into an ambush. Maria cooly clasped her hands in front of her and waited, looking up at the sputtering witch above them with a patient smile.
"I cannot allow…" The woman fluttered her hands uselessly.
"I think you should reevaluate what you are willing to allow." Cassandra's tone dripped menace. The blood drained out of the witch's face.
"One moment…" The witch ducked away, pulling a phone from their pocket. Varric watched her dial with shaking fingers and shot Cassandra a chagrined look.
"You scared her." He accused.
"She should be frightened." Cassandra declared impatiently.
"Did you ever hear a phrase about honey and flies?"
"I do not care for flies." Cassandra lifted her chin imperiously.
"Told you boss." Bull grumbled cheerfully. "They didn't even make it inside the hotel."
"I should have known better than to bet against you." Maria agreed. "How much do I owe you? Or should I just deduct it off what you owe me for Wicked Grace?"
"You're betting on whether we'd argue?" Cassandra didn't sound nearly as amused as Varric felt. Maria cast her eyes upward with that same patient smile.
"Oh, no, you were both definitely going to start arguing with each other. We were betting on when."
"For the love of Andraste…" Cassandra sighed.
"Do I get a cut? Since I started it?" Varric held out his hand. Maria shook her head quickly and wrinkled her nose. Her eyes were on the hotel rising up above them, counting the floors. She frowned.
"Weird question. Could be losing my mind." Maria pointed up. "Did this hotel have twelve floors last time we were here?"
"Yeah boss." Bull looked up as well.
"Does it have thirteen now?" Maria asked.
Varric immediately started counting windows. He did it three times before he swore out loud. Maria hadn't lost her mind. Somehow, the hotel grew an extra floor in the few days they'd been away. Which, of course, was as impossible as any of the other crazy shit that happened to them.
"Bianca." He muttered, pausing to wait for the AI to beep in acknowledgement. "What the fuck are we looking at?"
"I can offer only educated guesses." The voice in his ear responded. "The probability is some sort of arcane distortion of space. I cannot access any cameras or networked devices in the thirteenth floor. I recommend contacting the Champion."
"Not an option." Varric spat out through gritted teeth. Even if he felt like he was safe to call in Hawke, she'd never make it in time. "Any other recommendations?"
"I recommend against entering an unknown situation. The probability that the thirteenth floor hosts something unpleasant is high."
"Miss Cadash." The witch reappeared, phone clutched in her hands. "The Magister says he will see you in the conference room with your companions. There is no need to disarm."
"Lovely." Maria beamed up at the human, but turned to stare at Varric as soon as the witch turned her back with one eyebrow lifted.
"Guess we're gonna test that luck of yours, Princess." He offered casually. Maria didn't roll her eyes, but even he could see it was a close thing.
"Stay close." Cassandra whispered. Maria nodded and they entered the revolving lobby doors. For some reason, it was just as cold inside the hotel as it had been outside. Varric thought he could see his breath. The witch led them to the conference room from the day before, but this time it hosted the Magister, his son, and at least a dozen witches. All of them wore identical gleaming, predatory smiles.
"Herald!" The Magister greeted triumphantly. "Have a seat. Thank you for taking me up on my invitation."
Maria walked to the other side of the table, this time the Magister arranged it so they were sequestered as far from both the door and windows as possible. As if he needed further assurance there'd be no escape. Varric closed the door behind them as they entered, following the other three. Maria didn't sit down, she simply leaned on the back of one of the chairs, folding her arms and resting her chin on them. "How could I refuse?" She asked, holding the Magister's gaze.
"Surely, we can find some common ground." The Magister said grandly, but his eyes were greedy when they fixed on Maria's figure. "There must be something your Inquisition can offer in exchange for our assistance."
"Lots of things." Maria agreed. She tilted her head towards Cassandra and Bull. "We've got a pretty good army coming along. Witches are good, I guess, but sometimes you just need some good old fashioned muscle to hit things."
"Interesting proposition." The Magister leaned forward, obviously humoring Maria. "But I'm afraid the Imperium has plenty of able bodied soldiers."
"Maybe you should tell us what you want?" Maria fluttered her lashes. Varric fought the urge to reach for his shotgun when he spotted shadows gathering in the corner of the room by the door, the one behind the Magister. Quietly, the shadows extended, like great fingers searching…
"And if we want you?" The Magister asked with a genial smile. "I'm afraid you are quite the curiosity, Miss Cadash. Scholars in Tevinter would be willing to pay quite a price to examine you."
Icy dread prickled down Varric's skin. He knew what the scholars and researchers in Tevinter were capable of, after all. Maria didn't flinch, but her voice was flat. "The terms of this arrangement?"
"We would of course assure your safety." The Magister lied fluently. "I have it on good authority you're a clever girl and…"
The Magister droned on. He didn't see the fingers of shadow reach out and wrap around the two witches at each end of the table. It was so sudden, they barely had time to reach up and try to unwrap the solid darkness from them before their eyes went dark and they slumped backwards. The inky darkness relaxed it grip on their forms and moved fluidly to the next, then the next…
"Of course, it is a small price to pay, isn't it? Your future here for the future of the world itself?" The Magister offered.
"It is." Maria agreed quietly. Her eyes never flicked away from the Magister's. "But I won't pay it."
The false geniality dropped like a stone from the Magister's face. Instead, they were confronted with blinding rage. "Perhaps you misunderstand, Miss Cadash. You have little choice."
At that moment, the last two witches on either side of the Magister toppled forward, heads hitting hard against the table. Varric winced sympathetically and the Magister jumped, shocked, head turning to take in the sight…
At the same time the door behind him burst open and soldiers flooded into the room, rifles trained on the lone witch still standing.
"I think you're the one with limited options." Maria said casually, straightening from her relaxed posture. She smiled, a faint thing tinged with relief and victory. "Sorry."
"Don't you dare apologize." Dorian emerged from the deep, dark shadows on the wall, brushing dust from his shoulder. "You have played a magnificent hand, Miss Cadash. Well done."
"Dorian!" The Magister whirled, eyes livid. His son reached for his elbow, grabbing it securely before the man could lunge for the other witch.
"Father, it's over." Felix whispered wearily. "Let's go home. Now."
"Yes." Dorian ignored the furious man's attempt to exact some kind of revenge. "Do go home before you embarrass yourself further."
"I'm not here to make enemies." Maria walked around the table until she stood beside Dorian, hands shoved back in her pockets. "I'm taking the witches who want to come with me and I'm leaving. I recommend you do the same."
"You are leaving." The Magister looked down at his wrist, to the expensive gold watch on his arm. His features, twisted with fury, took on a gleam of madness. "That is indeed correct."
"Alexius, stop this ranting and…" Dorian began impatiently, dropping one arm in front of Maria to form a barrier between her and the Magister. Before the witch could finish his thought, the Magister ripped his one arm from Felix's grip and pressed something on his watch, Varric couldn't see what.
But he did see the flash of toxic green light. He heard Dorian's startled shout, saw the witch raise up his pen to do… something, Varric felt some sort of magic ripple out. The meeting of the two forces caused a small explosion, one that threw the soldiers against the wall, knocked over all the tables, and sent Bull, Cassandra, and himself sprawling onto their backs.
And when Varric looked up through the smoke and debris, his heart sank into his stomach. Maria's name reverberated through the room, he couldn't tell who yelled it first. It could have been Cassandra. It could have been him. It didn't matter.
Nobody answered. Their Herald had vanished into the abyss.
xx
Maria hit the concrete so hard that all the air in her lungs left in one audible gasp. When she inhaled desperately to replace it, she nearly choked on the scent of damp mold and something rotten. Then, her brain helpfully supplied that the very fact she found herself in the dark on top of concrete when she'd just been in a well lit, relatively comfortable conference room was wrong. Extremely, nerve-wrackingly, wrong.
"Fasta vass! The nerve!" An irritated, cultured voice exclaimed. "What in the Maker's name did he think…"
"Dorian?" She called, pushing herself to her knees. Gravel and dirt stuck to her palms and she brushed them absently on her jeans while she stood, eyes desperately trying to adjust to the dark.
The light that erupted from her left temporarily blinded her, left her blinking tears from her eyes while she strained to take in her surroundings. An orb of light twirled elegantly in the air above her head like a planet spinning on an axis, casting a warm glow that illuminated what looked to be a tunnel, blackness stretching beyond the halo of light in either direction. Dorian squinted into the darkness behind Maria while reaching into his inner blazer pocket.
The fact that his hand emerged clutching a rather irritated, squawking bunch of feathers made Maria laugh in spite of herself. The bird pecked Dorian's fingers repeatedly until the man resumed his cursing and freed the small creature. Maria crossed her arms over her chest and stared pointedly at the human. "Where am I?"
"An interesting question, really." Dorian murmured, examining the red marks on his hand distastefully while Nyx settled herself, puffed up in anger, on Maria's shoulder. "Spatial displacement can really be so tricky. I doubt this is what Alexius intended…"
Maria glared upwards and the bird on her shoulder squawked as if expressing her disdain as well. "I know it's a damn good question, I want an answer."
"Well, you're alive, and you're welcome for that!" Dorian huffed, aggravated. "I suspect if Alexius had his way, that sultry little pout of yours would be much missed for the rest of time. I deflected the brunt of the attack, which means…"
"We are…?" Maria steered the man back to the main problem. Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes upwards as Nyx chirped, echoing Maria's disapproval.
"These look like the tunnels we used to get into Redcliffe, although this particular section doesn't ring a bell." Dorian stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "Either direction should get us back to the surface eventually."
Maria immediately swallowed the knot of fear, but she couldn't hide the cold sweat she felt break out all over her skin. "We're underground."
"Back to your ancestral roots!" Dorian gestured grandly around them. "Do you feel yourself becoming more attuned to your glorious past yet? Although, to be fair, these aren't deep enough to really jog the dwarven psyche. Humans won't risk digging much deeper and catching the blight."
The blight, Nanna told her, drove all the dwarves to the surface hundreds of years ago. It was either that or perish, which some did rather than lose their connection to the mythical 'stone' she'd heard so much about. Some of the dwarves on the surface still got dewy-eyed about it, Nanna included. All Maria could think about, as a girl listening to the story, were those dwarves that chose to stay. Alone, forgotten, entombed with miles and miles of dirt and rock above their head.
She thought of them frequently the year she spent in prison awaiting trial. Wondered if they'd felt the same crushing weight she did while they waited for their homes to become their tombs.
"I'm not a fan of this, Dorian." Maria admitted through clenched teeth.
"Being underground, being in a small, enclosed space, or being magically shoved down here like a drunk in a taxi cab after last call?" Dorian asked genially. She shot him a withering look she hoped concealed her nausea. "Ah, all three then. Well, come along and let's start walking. We can't have gone too far."
Andraste, she hoped so. Dorian snapped his fingers and the orb in the air bobbed gently before beginning to follow him. Maria rushed forward so quickly she very nearly ran into his back. If Dorian noticed, he didn't say anything. They took several steps in silence before Dorian spoke again. "I suppose I should thank you. It could not have been easy to buck the trend and side with witches of all things. I'm sure you've properly gotten everyone's panties in a twist."
"Maybe wait to thank me until we figure out what happened after we got displaced." Maria advised. Maker knew the shit storm happening back in the hotel. "Besides. I'm still not in the mood to forgive you for landing me in this dank tunnel even if it saved my life."
"Duly noted. Next time, I'll allow you to perish before subjecting you to dark tunnels full of mildew and probably spiders the size of my…"
"Please stop." If she saw a spider, she was definitely going to lose the tenuous grasp on calmness and dignity she still possessed.
"Herald of Andraste. Frightened of tunnels and spiders." Dorian couldn't quite hide his amusement. "I suppose we all must have our weaknesses. If you were completely brave and insufferably noble you'd be infuriating."
As he spoke, his light illuminated the wall at the far end of the tunnel, branches spiraling out to the left and right. But, more alarming, shards of red lyrium pierced through cracks in the old concrete, glimmering like blood above them and giving off enough heat to color Maria's face. Dorian stepped forward, intrigued. "Is this the red lyrium I've heard so much about?"
"Yes." Maria remembered it from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, remembered Varric yelling at her not to touch it. That thought made her reach out and grab Dorian's arm when he reached out. The sudden movement sent the bird on her shoulder into startled flight, squawking loudly. "Do you know what they say about curiosity and the cat?"
"Something boring, I expect." Dorian muttered. Nyx settled upon his shoulder instead, nuzzled into his neck in a manner more feline than avian. "I didn't see any of this our first trip through."
That sat uneasily in Maria's stomach. Did that mean they had gone further than Dorian thought? How far?
The bird on Dorian's shoulder made an odd, trilling sound and Dorian stiffened warily. He snapped his fingers and the orb above them extinguished itself, plunging them into darkness. Before Maria could protest as viciously as she wanted to, Dorian's palm covered her mouth.
The gesture froze her, perhaps more effectively than Dorian meant to. She remembered her dream, remembered Dwyka's fingers turning to claws to gruesomely shred her lips. But it was that momentary panic that allowed her to hear what, perhaps, Nyx heard first. Footsteps padding closer in the darkness, heavy thumps of a large creature as it moved. Not a person, Maria thought wildly, it didn't sound like a person but some kind of large beast. A demon or monster stalking the tunnels.
The growl that cut through the silence succeeded only in terrifying her, not shocking her. Maria wished, desperately, that Dorian hadn't extinguished the light. Whatever lurked in the darkness could see them, smell them, hear them and they were blind. Maria slowly dropped her hands to her waist, to the pistol holstered there, trying to sense movement in the darkness.
The growl became a snarl right as her hand touched the grip of her pistol. Dorian muttered something under his breath and the orb burst to life above them again, brighter than before, the light as strong as the shadows and just as blinding. Maria heard something yelp.
Then she heard the click of metal on metal, the roar of flames. Her eyes adjusted to the brightness, the glare of the red lyrium studded walls. Just in time for a shaggy black hound to knock her backwards, pistol flying across the concrete. One giant paw held her to the ground and sharp, white teeth lunged for her throat.
"Sparkler, stop!"
"Loki! Heel!"
The spoken command made the beast reconsider ripping her throat out, but it didn't move off her chest. She could see nothing above and beyond it, but the voice calling Dorian sparkler that…
"Varric!" She yelled back. She was greeted with silence, then Dorian's muttered exclamation.
"By Andraste's tits, what happened to you?" Maria didn't like the disorientation in Dorian's voice. She didn't like the tension in the air.
She really didn't like that Varric wasn't answering her.
"Varric?" She heard that soft, feminine voice ask quietly. It sounded much less commanding when not ordering the huge dog around.
"I don't know." Varric sounded lost, he sounded empty. "It can't be. It has to be demons or a trick."
"Demons?" Dorian repeated as if Varric had just called his mother a whore. "I never…"
"They're not demons." The woman spoke calmly, closer now. "I can feel…"
Maria finally saw her as the woman dropped to her knees. She had shoulder length brown hair braided nearly off to one side and the brightest blue eyes Maria had ever seen. She shoved the dog lightly until he backed off and Maria felt like she could finally breathe again.
Lightning fast, the woman's thin fingers reached into Maria's coat and pulled out the card, the one she'd placed there the night before when Varric told her to keep it for luck. The woman flipped it over and stared at it, emotions flying across her pale features. Raw, utter devastation. Unending anger. And longing, underneath all of it, grief and longing. In a moment, the woman's youthful features weighed themselves down into those of someone hundreds of years old.
Maria pushed herself up onto her hands, finally taking in the scene illuminated by roiling flames and flickering orbs of lights playing across the ceiling like an ocean. Dorian stood just behind Maria, pen pointed towards the dog in warning. The woman beside her was standing in a graceful, fluid motion, turning to a figure just on the edge of the shadows…
Maria realized in that moment that if she knew him like this, she'd know him anywhere. Varric's rough stubble couldn't hide bruises and scars that hadn't been there the last time she saw him. He still wore that leather coat, the one she always associated with him, and a shirt unbuttoned almost to indecency, but they hung looser on a frame that looked too thin.
Old. Frail. Beaten. Nothing like the man she'd just sat beside, but he was staring at her. Staring at her with desire and warmth, exactly the way he had the night before when he said he'd take her anywhere she wanted, hide her, save her exactly the same way he implied he saved…
"Hawke." Varric didn't rip his eyes from Maria's, but it wasn't her name in his mouth. Tinged with wild desperation, the other woman's name sounded like a prayer.
Hawke gave a bitter half-laugh and turned the card in her hand, raising one eyebrow cynically and displaying the Lovers to Varric. He finally managed to rip his eyes from Maria's to take in the card with a blank, disbelieving gaze.
"I told you I lost it." He muttered, dazed.
"You neglected to say you lost it in your Herald's pocket, you ass." Hawke reached down, extending the long elegant fingers of her other hand, all except her thumb which pressed a zippo lighter tightly into her palm. "Maria Cadash, you're just in time."
She wasn't sure she wanted to know, but she asked anyway. "In time for what?"
Something unearthly crackled in Hawke's blue eyes, something terrible and wonderful, lightning in a bottle. She grinned a wide, toothy smile that didn't reach those stormy eyes when she answered. "Last call, I expect."
