It wasn't so bad - at least at the start. The tunnels leading down beneath the surface were not so different from the smugglers' tunnels beneath Darktown that led to the coast. Anders could almost believe they were just out on another one of Aveline's little missions. Albeit one that also featured several dwarves outfitted for an expedition and a handful of other mercenary types, in addition to Hawke and their group.

But the deeper they went, the harder it was to hold onto that little fantasy. The air grew close and oppressive, as though the weight of miles of rock over their heads were pressing down on the very air they breathed. Anders instinctively hunched his shoulders and kept his eye on Hawke just ahead. Fenris was a constant presence at his side; occasionally, at the point where Anders felt the tension rising unbearably until he felt he must scream, the elf would gently brush his fingers against the back of Anders' hand as though to remind him he was not alone down here; and Anders was almost pathetically grateful for that light contact. He had wondered at first why Fenris had not donned his gauntlets as usual, but after the first time he caught his breath in near-panic when a torch suddenly guttered just ahead and Fenris' warm touch grounded him, he realised Fenris had already known what he needed - almost better than he himself.

But not even Fenris' touch could quell the craving that itched beneath his skin. Or rather, it could have - if he could bring himself to ask. And doubtless Fenris would not have questioned it but given him what he needed in a heartbeat, regardless of the pain it caused him. But Anders couldn't, would not ask that of him. He fought down the shivers when they started, and he took to carrying his staff in his hand; it was easier to control the tremors in his hand when gripping its smooth silverite shaft hard.

It was harder to quell the voices he thought he heard in the shadows, or the unpleasant suspicion that Hawke, Bethany, Varric and even Fenris were discussing him when they thought he couldn't hear them. He was certain at least some of that whispering he couldn't quite make out was Bethany talking to Hawke about him, even though she denied it when he cornered her during one of their rest stops to ask.

But then she would, wouldn't she? They all would.

Maybe that was why they'd been so insistent he come with them. Hawke had his maps, they didn't need him. They just wanted to be able to keep an eye on him.

The dizzy spells were coming more often, and the headache was a constant, throbbing presence - it pulsed through his skull to the rhythm of his heartbeat. The elfroot tea he drank each time they paused for a rest only dulled it a little, never quite taking it entirely away. He took to adding a few drops of lyrium to the tea when he thought no-one was looking. Only a little. Just enough to take the edge off the cravings; to silence the whispers for a little while. The thrum of magic in his veins made the darkness more bearable.

His supply was slowly dwindling. He kept tally of the passing days by the number of vials still left. As the number lessened, his anxiety grew; he was jittery, perpetually on edge, irritable.

He thought the unclean scratching feeling in the back of his skull was just a dream until he realised he was awake but could still feel it. Darkspawn. He lifted his head from his pack which he'd been using as a pillow as he dozed fitfully, and stared around. There; he could still feel it. Distant - too distant to identify specifically what it was, but unmistakable.

He was trembling as he sat up, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself as he looked around for Fenris, one hand fumbling for the pouch with the precious vials of lyrium. He managed to fumble one out but it took several tries before his shaking hands could wrest the cork loose. He downed it hurriedly, and was relieved to feel the cool wash of mana through his veins. He felt his thoughts grow clear, and mercifully his body no longer trembled as he got to his feet and reached for his staff before making his way over to the watch fire where Fenris stood guard with one of the dwarven mercenary guards in Bartrand's employ.

"Darkspawn. Not near, but I can feel them," he murmured in answer to Fenris' unspoken question.

"Should we wake the others?" rumbled Fenris softly. Anders shook his head.

"Let them sleep. Whatever it is, it's too far away for me to tell clearly what it is."

Fenris regarded him thoughtfully. "You are certain you were not merely dreaming? Your rest has been unsettled ever since we reached the Deep Roads."

"I am not dreaming!" Anders hissed angrily. His sibilant whisper carried unexpectedly; a couple of dwarves lifted their heads and glanced in his direction. Chagrined, Anders ducked his head. "It wasn't a dream," he insisted, but quieter and with less vehemence.

Fenris gestured to Anders to sit down; as the tall blond apostate lowered himself to the ground, the elf leaned forward to place the kettle back over the fire. Anders cradled his staff in his arms and stared into the fire.

"Anders," said Fenris gently as he laid a hand over Anders' restless fingers as they tapped on the haft of his staff; Anders' fingers stilled. "Anders, I am afraid for you. How much lyrium have you taken today?"

Anders went still. "You don't believe me," he said in a shocked whisper. "You think I'm delusional."

"Anders -"

Anders pulled roughly away from Fenris and hastily got to his feet.

"Anders -"

"Void take you!" Anders exclaimed as he turned on his heel and strode away from the fire. He heard Fenris call his name and Hawke's sleepy voice inquiring what was wrong, but he didn't look back. He let his anger carry him on swift feet away from the camp, for once not caring about the dark. It was some minutes before his footsteps slowed as his wrath cooled, leaving him feeling shaken and remorseful.

He planted the blade of his staff between two cracks in the ancient paving stones of the Deep Roads and rested his forehead against his staff as he drew a shaky breath. A wave of dizziness swept over him and he swayed then staggered. He put a hand out to steady himself against a nearby wall then slumped against the rock. His head was pounding again.

He was suddenly all too aware of how enclosed this path was; a rockfall had blocked nearly the whole width of the passageway, leaving a space scarce wide enough for a single man to walk upright. He glanced back and realised he couldn't see the watch fire any more; the path was only dimly lit by the dull glow of luminescent lichen and moss. The way ahead was dark; he took a few faltering footsteps into the narrowed path and then his outstretched hand hit stone. The way ahead was blocked entirely.

He slid down until he was sprawled against the base of the wall, then drew his knees up towards his chest and hugged his knees, burying his face as he fought for control of his breathing. His heart was pounding in his chest and he shuddered as a cold sweat seemed to sweep over him leaving him shivering, skin clammy. The air felt too thin. He swallowed hard.

It was too dark. Trembling, he lifted a hand and tried to concentrate, but it was hard; his thoughts skittered like frightened spiders (Maker, why did he have to think of spiders?), and it was hard to focus. His breath escaped his lips in a faint whimper as he fought to coax a small ball of magelight into existence. A small, wavering silvery light bloomed upon the palm of his hand and he almost sobbed with relief.

He heard voices calling his name, and he scrambled to his feet, glancing back in the direction he had come. He could see torches bobbing towards him out of the darkness, and then there was Fenris, and behind him Hawke and both Tethras brothers.

"As if I haven't got enough on my plate without having to chase after mama's boy surfacers afraid of the dark," Bartrand was grousing. "I swear, Varric if this -" He broke off as he stared at the rockfall beyond Anders. "Oh great. That's just wonderful. Tell me the path isn't completely blocked."

Fenris and Hawke ignored him as they hurried over towards Anders, relief plain upon their faces.

"Anders, we were -" began Hawke.

"It's blocked," Anders said abruptly. "There's no way through. The whole roof seems to have fallen in."

Bartrand began to swear. "Someone tell me the mage is wrong!"

Varric stepped into the narrowed path and disappeared from view briefly before re-emerging. "Sorry, Brother; Blondie's right. We're not going to be able to get through this way."

Bartrand stomped off angrily, flinging his hands up in disgust and yelling for his mercenaries.

"Well, that's done it," sighed Varric.

Hawke and Fenris exchanged glances as Varric followed after his brother, then glanced at Anders as he rejoined them. "We'll have to look for another way," he told them tersely. "Nothing could get through that rock slide." He followed after Varric, Hawke and Fenris trailing behind.

The discovery of the rockslide distracted everyone; Anders' abrupt departure from the camp was soon forgotten. Bartrand insisted on rousing the whole camp, ordering everyone to find a way around the blocked path. Scouts were sent down the side passages; it was a few hours before they began to return.

"There has to be a way around!" snarled Bartrand.

"Not that we could find," replied the lead scout. "The side passages are too dangerous. We can't get through."

"Useless!" roared Bartrand as he punched the scout and sent him reeling, then turned on his other hired hands. "What am I paying you blighters for?" He stormed off, angry.

Varric followed him, and the brothers conferred - Bartrand gesticulating angrily, Varric's voice calm and quiet. After a moment, Varric beckoned Hawke over. Finally Bartrand waved them both off.

"Fine, fine, you find another way around - but do it quickly!" He strode off towards his hired hands, bellowing orders to set camp once more and set to work clearing the passage as Varric and Hawke rejoined the others.

"So now we are scouts?" remarked Fenris, raising an eyebrow.

"Unless you have any better ideas? It could take days to dig out that rock," replied Hawke, gesturing over his shoulder with a jerk of his thumb.

"I'm not hanging around for days!" exclaimed Anders, alarmed, one hand stealing unconsciously to his belt pouch. "There has to be another way around!" He turned away, rubbing his forehead as his temples throbbed painfully. "This is why I left the Wardens," he muttered. "I hate the blighted Deep Roads..."

"Er, I hate to add to your burdens, my friends, but I fear I must," interjected a dwarf as he approached them apologetically. Hawke turned with a frown.

"Bodahn, the supplier," murmured Varric; Hawke's face cleared. "Yes, of course. What's the problem, Bodahn?"

"I fear my boy Sandal has wandered off down one of those side passages; I couldn't help but overhear, and... well... if you should be exploring those side passages...?"

"Of course," nodded Hawke. "We'll keep an eye out for him, Bodahn."

"Oh thank you, messere; he's a good boy, is Sandal, he just... doesn't understand danger like he should."

They gathered around Hawke as he studied Anders' maps. After brief conferring, they headed towards the nearest right-hand passage.

"I swore I would never set foot in the Deep Roads again," Anders muttered to himself. He frowned, and shook his head irritably; the unpleasant scratching in his head seemed to be getting louder. "Hawke... there are darkspawn down here. Be on your guard."

Bethany shuddered and stepped closer to her brother as Fenris loosened his greatsword in its sheathe.

They investigated one dead end after another, backtracking frequently when the path ahead was blocked by another rockfall. It seemed to Anders that each time they had to backtrack and try another path, that they were coming closer and closer to the darkspawn. The feeling was stronger now; his grip was white-knuckled upon his staff, a cold sweat sheening his forehead.

"Close... very close..." he muttered.

"What's close?" asked Bethany, glancing back nervously; his anxiety was contagious, it seemed, and they were all on edge.

"Hurlocks. Eight of them. Very close," he muttered tersely. "They're just... Hawke, watch out!" he shouted in warning, as abruptly the group of darkspawn erupted almost from the very rocks at their feet and moved almost as one directly towards the rogue.

Hawke leapt back as Anders twirled his staff overhead and gave fervent thanks that he'd downed that vial of lyrium upon awakening as he sent a lightning bolt streaking overhead to scatter the hurlocks even as Bethany began to throw fireballs at them and Bianca sang death in Varric's hands.

There was a bright silvery blur of blue-white light and then Fenris was amongst the hurlocks, hewing them apart with ease. Bethany had to hold off on the fire spells for fear of hitting the elf, but Anders leapt forward and cast paralysis on the nearest three hurlocks, freezing them to the spot whilst Fenris dispatched the others; Anders drove the blade of his staff through the throat of one, whilst Varric and Hawke dropped the other two with ease. Anders moved forward to take out another with his staff; as it fell, he turned in time to see Fenris take the head off the last hurlock in a spray of blood. Anders glanced around, his heart still hammering in his chest.

"Anyone need healing?" he asked.

"No, thanks to your warning," grinned Hawke.

"Did we get them all?" asked Bethany?

"Looks like it, Sunshine," replied Varric as he flipped a corpse over with the toe of his boot. "Ugly things, aren't they?"

"Let's move on," said Fenris.

"Be careful; I can feel more darkspawn down here," warned Anders, glancing around as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"How does that work?" wondered Bethany. "I mean - how is it you can feel them?"

"It's a Warden thing. We can feel the taint. We can feel each other as well; the longer you've been a warden, the better you get at it."

"What does it feel like?" asked Bethany as Anders grimaced.

"It's... hard to describe," he replied slowly. "It's like... filthy claws, scraping against the back of my mind."

Bethany shuddered. "It sounds horrible. Is it always this bad for you down here?"

"No," he replied distractedly as he glanced around, trying to get a better feel of where the darkspawn were. "It's frequently worse. Just wait till the screaming nightmares begin - I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to that part."

"How awful!" Bethany exclaimed, horrified. He glanced back at her.

"Be thankful you'll never experience it," he said quietly. "There are some parts of being a Grey Warden you can never walk away from. Never thought I'd be actively seeking them out though," he added as he rolled his shoulders to try and dislodge the crawling sensation creeping up his spine.

"If you can feel darkspawn and other Grey Wardens... does that mean the darkspawn can feel you?" asked Bethany.

Anders lurched to a halt and stared at her, aghast.

"I'm sorry, forget I said anything!" said Bethany hastily. He stared at her for a moment longer, then started walking again. He could feel his heart racing again; he patted his belt pouch and bit his lip.

"Low on lyrium?" Bethany murmured as she stepped in closer and took his arm.

"No," he lied. She stared at him, and he glanced away. He glanced back as he felt her press something cold and hard into his hand.

"Liar," she said softly. "I shouldn't. But... just be careful, OK? And don't tell Garrett." She stepped away.

He glanced around; Hawke and Varric were studying the map, and Fenris was inspecting something he'd stepped in, wiping the sole of his foot on his leggings with a distasteful grimace. Anders hastily uncorked the lyrium and downed it in one, then moved to join Hawke and Varric.

He wished he were anywhere but there