Dorian took a step forward and grimaced as his boot sunk down to the ankle in oozing mud. Yanking his leg back up and hopping a little, he tried to shake the muck off before setting it on firmer ground.
The Fallow Mire was far from being a prime destination. It was cold, damp, rainy, muddy, and altogether unpleasant. They were trudging along at night, which just added an extra air of creepiness to the place. Not to mention, he had nearly been struck by lightning – twice!
"So. Nobody else we could have sent on this lovely endeavor then?" Dorian quipped.
"Well the Avvar did say they wanted to fight me," Faydren shot him a look over her shoulder.
Her response was said matter-of-factly, but Dorian caught the underlying bite. She was taking the capture of these soldiers personally. He shook his head and smiled. It was foolish for someone in her position to be so invested in the individuals. It was also one of the reasons he quite liked her.
"Besides," she continued, unfazed by the large puddle she strode though as Dorian skirted around it. "You're the one who agreed to come."
"Ah. So I did. Silly me."
In truth, he had jumped at the chance to get out of Skyhold for a while. His accommodations were passable, and he'd even found a nice spot to place a comfy chair for reading. However it hadn't escaped his notice that most people avoided interacting with him. While Dorian was used to being a pariah, it could definitely become tiresome. Even the advisers seemed reticent when they spoke to him (though at least they were polite about it). Distrust of Tevinter ran deep in Southerners – especially when it came to Tevinter mages.
Needless to say, he was more than a little surprised when the newly-named Inquisitor came to see him herself soon after they arrived in Skyhold. She'd wanted to thank him for the warning at Haven. The message could have easily been delivered by a runner or one of the advisers, but that didn't seem to have even occurred to her.
Even after she thanked him, Faydren had stayed. Her demeanor was guarded, but no more than it was with everyone else. The girl seemed quite content just chatting with him and asking questions with genuine curiosity. Dorian saw the looks they'd gotten from passersby but if the Inquisitor had noticed, it didn't show. Up to that point, he'd begun to doubt there was a place for him in the Inquisition – but she was changing his mind. The whole damn movement could hate him if they wanted, as long as their Inquisitor's opinion remained positive.
After that, he looked forward to every time she stopped by. It was rare to find someone willing to accept him without preconceptions. Any day, he expected the advisers to warn her away from him as a bad influence or because of rumors. Yet Faydren continued to return. When she asked if he was interested in accompanying her on a mission, Dorian was more than happy to oblige – both for her, and to get a break from the rest of the Inquisition.
And thus, he was here. In the dark and rain. Hoping to avoid running into the undead that Scout Harding mentioned. Varric and Iron Bull had been chatting occasionally but both were quiet for the moment. Dorian liked Varric. The dwarf had a sharp mind and a quick tongue, making him an excellent match of wits. He was also surprisingly insightful.
As for the Qunari, Dorian was still unsure how to feel about him. Their people didn't exactly have an amiable relationship… But Bull was fiercely protective of Faydren, and the Tevinter could respect that. He also had muscles. Lots of muscles. Why didn't the fool wear armor like a normal warrior?
"…kler, watch your step. Those boards are rotted through."
"Hm?" Dorian realized a moment too late that Varric had been speaking to him - the wooden walkway snapped under his weight. He dropped a few feet before landing in waist-deep water, thankfully still standing.
"Real smooth, Vint," Iron Bull chuckled as he knelt down, offering a hand to pull Dorian back up.
"Ugh," the utterance of disgust was in response to both the nasty water seeping into his clothing and Bull's comment, but he grabbed the large hand anyway.
They both froze momentarily as the sounds of splashing and an odd creaking filled the air. With a heave, the Qunari yanked Dorian up onto the bridge and out of an arrow's path. He hit the wood with a thud and quickly cast a barrier, not bothering to get up first as more arrows sailed through the air. A couple struck right next to him.
"The undead were in the water this whole time?" Faydren sent some lightning arcing through the shambling corpses.
"Yeah. Seems they're happy to stay there too unless somebody wakes them up," Varric smirked at Dorian, firing multiple bolts in succession.
"Oh right, all my fault," Dorian was back on his feet, launching a fireball into the hissing face of an approaching skeleton. It shrieked and turned to ash.
"At least he admits it," Bull piped in before crushing another skeleton with an overhead swing of his greataxe.
"Maybe if you'd used my name instead of that ridiculous moniker…" The dark-haired mage grumbled.
There weren't enough undead to be truly troublesome and the group was soon making way again. The water was carefully avoided from that point on. Dorian squished unhappily with every step while Varric and Bull tried unsuccessfully to smother their amusement. Faydren looked at him apologetically but there was a hint of humor in her eyes as well. It was such a rarity that Dorian no longer felt quite so chagrined.
The path snaked left and right through the bogs but didn't break off at any point, so it was likely they were still heading in the right direction. Dorian found that a great relief, since getting lost in this place was beyond unappealing. The relative peace of their journey was interrupted by a crackle as Faydren's Anchor came to life.
Iron Bull groaned. The Qunari's extreme aversion to demons provided no end of amusement for Dorian. There was huge satisfaction in the knowledge that something made the mountain of muscle uncomfortable.
"Does that mean what I think it does, Boss?"
"Probably," Faydren wandered off the path, able to sense the rift somehow.
"And I guess that means we have to…" Bull let the question hang in the air.
"You know we do," Faydren sighed, clearly not excited either.
"Yeah… A guy can hope though."
When they found it, the rift was dormant but obviously capable of coming to life any moment. It was being examined by a large man with white and blue war paint coating his skin and a white fur pelt on his back. Spotting Faydren's glowing hand, he rotated to face them but made no move to attack. The maul he carried rested easily in his hand with its haft on the ground. Exchanging a wary look, the party approached him.
"So. You're Herald of Andraste," the tone was amiable. "My kin want you dead, lowlander, but it's not my job. No fears from me."
"I thought the Avvar wanted to fight me," her grey eyes were searching.
"Our chieftain's son wants to fight you. I'm the Sky Watcher, called in when the dead pile up," the large barbarian said politely. "Rites to the gods, mending for the bleeding, a dagger for the dying. That's what I do. I don't pick up a blade for a whelp's trophy hunt."
"The other Avvar kidnapped an Inquisition patrol. Are they all right?" Faydren didn't bother masking her concern.
"A few were injured in the skirmish, but they were alive. Last I saw them," his tone took on an air of respect. "Someone's trained them well. They killed more of us than I thought they would."
"I see. Farewell, then," the Inquisitor nodded, face clearly showing relief at his answer.
"Watch the water," he cautioned.
"Too late," Varric coughed the words into his hand, catching a withering glare from Dorian.
Faydren flexed her marked hand a few times and gave it a shake before stretching it toward the rift. Dorian could see her jaw clench in preparation. Whatever sensation went through that hand when she did this, it evidently wasn't pleasant.
"You may want to step back," she glanced over her shoulder at the Sky Watcher. He didn't budge, so she shrugged and proceeded to rip open the rift.
Dorian was no stranger to demons, and he'd seen the rifts around Redcliffe. It was always unsettling to fight the things though – especially with the knowledge that more could pop through on your head at any moment. Varric and Iron Bull were more used to the idea, battling the demons with ease (despite the Qunari's discomfort). Much to Dorian's surprise, the Sky Watcher jumped in to fight as well. This proved helpful when undead from the surrounding water were drawn into the fighting.
As the last enemy fell, Faydren turned to reach for the rift once more. The strands of green energy connecting her hand to the tear seemed to coalesce into a rope. Her grip closed on it and she wrenched her arm back to collapse the hole. Oozing chunks fell to the ground and faded away. She exhaled deeply.
"Fascinating…" Dorian murmured.
"Lady of the Skies! You can mend the gaps in the air?" The barbarian gazed at her in awe.
"Pretty nice, right?" Bull grinned.
"Maybe you do have a god's favor..."
Well, this was lovely… Soon after they parted ways with the Avvar shaman, the towers of a fortress gatehouse came into view. The moon silhouetted its stark outline of stone against the sky. It also illuminated the veritable sea of undead wandering the road between them and the gate.
"I don't think we can take all those on, Stormcloud," Varric spoke what all of them were thinking.
"They're slow, right? Can we make it to the gate?" Faydren's head tilted slightly as she considered options.
"While the answer to that is possibly 'yes' – are you insane?!" Dorian's hand made a sweeping motion at the skeletons for emphasis.
"Would you rather fight them? Because those are the only two options I'm seeing," she spoke with determination, but her eyes held worry. "I will not leave our people to die in there."
"Oh, venhedis…" Dorian sighed. He wouldn't want her to abandon them either. "Well then, what are we waiting for?"
After some minor contingency planning, the four took off at a sprint and made a beeline for the gate. Faydren's observation was correct, and the undead didn't even notice them until they were more than halfway through. Dorian conjured a barrier before the first arrow attempted to fire. Aside from a few half-hearted sword swings and multiple poorly aimed arrows, they reached the gate unscathed. That went better than anticipated.
Dorian was grinning victoriously and about to comment on their success when he ran into Faydren's outstretched arm, stopping him short. An arrow whizzed past his nose. What was that saying? Out of the frying pan? An army of undead slowly advanced toward the open gate behind them while a contingent of Avvar faced them from the front, shouting angrily.
"Varric?" The Inquisitor queried, eyes narrowed at their new obstacle.
"On it," the dwarf tossed something at his feet and vanished from view. Where was he going?
Dorian refreshed their barrier as Faydren unleashed the storm and Bull charged ahead. The Tevinter mage then focused on suppressing the approaching skeletons by placing fire mines along the path. He felt sweat bead on his forehead. Thankfully the damned things still moved at a crawl.
"Got it!" Varric's voice rang out above him.
A rough hand grabbed Dorian's collar to drag him back as the portcullis slammed to the ground where he had been standing. Looking up, Iron Bull's face grinned back at him. He shrugged free of the Qunari's grasp before straightening his robes. So Varric snuck past to close the gate. Clever.
Conveniently, it also opened the inner gate and the path was now clear to go through. Dorian stepped over the fallen Avvar to get to Faydren. She was a little short of breath and there was a cut on her cheek, but she gave him a reassuring nod and they continued on. The fortress wasn't large and they encountered little resistance reaching the main hall. As they crested the top of the stairs, a voice boomed out.
"Herald of Andraste! Face me! I am the Hand of Korth himself!"
A large Avvar stood on the dais at the other end of the hall, roaring and shaking his maul. Archers flanked him and a single warrior with tower shield stood in front. The companions looked at each other questioningly. Was that title supposed to mean something to them?
Really it didn't matter. Dorian watched as Faydren's eyes glinted angrily. This was the man who had stolen her people – and it was unlikely he'd live to regret it. The battle began in earnest, with Faydren and Varric targeting the archers as Dorian laid a mine under the shield-bearer's feet. The surprised barbarian launched flaming into the air with a shriek. Iron Bull headed straight for the Hand of Korth, matching strength and bulk with the over-confident Avvar.
It seemed like the archers were endless as more popped up each time one fell. Changing focus from the party members with barrier, the Avvar targeted Bull instead. Cursing, Dorian was barely able to weave a barrier around the Qunari as he turned to block what arrows he could. None of the arrows got through, but the barrier fell and Bull was wide open for the leader's next swing.
With a loud thud, the maul launched Iron Bull into a pillar. He slid to the ground, temporarily stunned as the Hand stomped toward him.
"Fasta vass!" Dorian hurled a fireball at the barbarian's exposed back where it exploded with a hiss. The man went completely still before turning toward Dorian with an unholy fury in his eyes.
"Huh…" That attack had done far less than he hoped.
Ignoring Bull, the Hand instead rushed at Dorian with a roar. The mage attempted to move aside, but quickly found that the shoulder of his robe was pinned to the pillar next to him by an arrow. He hadn't even noticed. A moment of true dread filled his chest – if he couldn't dodge that swing… He pulled free at the last second, diving to the side as the maul smashed into the stone. The pillar cracked. Then it crumbled, and a wall of rubble toppled over on top of him.
"Dorian!" Faydren screamed.
The Tevinter mage's head was reeling and he could feel the sticky warmth of blood dripping down his face. His last-second barrier had caught most of the brunt from the initial impact, but it wasn't really intended to hold back constant pressure. Breathing became difficult and he was completely unable to move, pinned down by the weight of the stone.
Dorian could only watch as Faydren materialized between him and the Hand of Korth, a trail of frost in her wake. Her stance was defiant as she looked up at the adversary nearly twice her size.
"You wanted to fight the Herald of Andraste?" She slowly circled, turning the Avvar away from Dorian. "Well here I am. Let's see what you've got."
"Stormcloud, I don't know about this…" Varric was still busy holding off archers. She ignored him.
"Bull," The Qunari had gotten to his feet unsteadily. "Get Dorian out of there."
"Boss-"
"Now!" She wasn't taking no for an answer. Iron Bull grunted but jogged over and carefully began removing the stones piled over Dorian. The mage winced as rocks shifted but tried to stay still, eyes glued on the Inquisitor.
The Hand of Korth had attacked in earnest, but his swings were slow. Faydren was small and agile, easily avoiding the large windups as she tossed ice and lightning at the colossus. It didn't do much aside from making him angrier and he got more reckless with his swings. Dorian smiled. That girl was smarter than she'd admit.
Faydren continued to dance around his attacks until finally he swung the maul so hard it stuck in the stone floor. She seized the opportunity, freezing the weapon's haft near the head and stomping on it – the head snapped off, now useless. The Avvar snarled with rage and shot a hand out to grab her. Without the maul to slow him down, the barbarian was surprisingly quick. He snatched her right arm, yanking hard, and Dorian cringed as he heard the sickening crack of her shoulder dislocating. She cried out and dropped her staff. Varric and Bull both spun at the sound.
Before either of them could do anything, they all saw it – face pale and arm caught in the barbarian's grasp – Faydren was smirking. Her left hand closed on his wrist, eyes glowing intensely. The air lit up as electricity surged directly into the Hand of Korth. He convulsed repeatedly, screaming. With his muscles all contracted, he couldn't have let go if he wanted to.
When Faydren finally released her grip, the Avvar slumped to the ground with steam rising from his corpse. Varric quickly went to her side as she bent down to pick up her staff with her left hand. Dorian was free from the rubble at last and painfully got to his feet while Bull went to check on the Inquisitor as well. He winced at the quick pop and pained gasp of her shoulder being helped back into its socket. Dorian smiled reassuringly at her as she walked over, arm still limp.
"Are you okay?" Her eyes were filled with concern.
"A few bumps and bruises perhaps, but I'll live," his body heartily disagreed, but that could be seen to later. After all, he hadn't just faced down that mammoth one on one.
Faydren eyed him carefully before nodding and heading to the single unopened door in the room. She frowned upon discovering that the door was locked. Varric walked up and put a hand on her good arm, pulling a key out of nowhere. He must have grabbed it off the Avvar at some point. With a click, the door swung open. Three Inquisition soldiers were crowded around the door and nearly stumbled over each other moving back. Two were nursing minor injuries on the floor.
"Herald of Andraste…" The young soldier's voice was filled with reverence, eyes wide.
"I dealt with the Avvar. Is everyone alright?" The Inquisitor kept her voice calm and strong as Dorian noticed her stand a bit taller. He saw no need for the act, but it seemed to quiet her nerves.
"Yes, Your Worship. The injured need some rest, but we can return on our own," another soldier spoke, smiling shyly.
"Glad to hear it. Be careful heading back," she paused before adding. "And don't touch the water."
As they turned to leave, Dorian overheard the excited whispering behind them.
"I can't believe the Herald came for us!"
"I told you she wouldn't leave us."
Glancing at Faydren as she walked away, Dorian glimpsed the smallest of smiles on her lips. It held such relief and happiness. Varric winked at him and Iron Bull nodded as they followed. Either they'd caught it too or they already knew. Dorian smiled widely. Oh there was no way he'd leave the Inquisition now – whether the rest of them liked it or not.
Just outside the hall, they ran into the Sky Watcher again. He'd apparently followed them out of curiosity.
"Your god certainly watches after you, Herald," the Avvar looked past her with disdain. "There lies the brat. His father, chief of our holding, would duel me for the loss if he cared enough."
"The Inquisition has a purpose your chief lacks..." Faydren suggested carefully.
"Is this why the Lady of the Skies sent me here? To help heal the wounds in her skin?" He pondered. "Aye. I'll join you. Let me make peace with my kin and I'll find where you set your flag."
Dorian and the others looked at each in surprise. That was an unexpected turn for sure. The Inquisitor must have seen something worthy of making the offer though, and far be it for them to question. With Corypheus out there, the more allies they found the better.
It was slow going back through the Fallow Mire, and they were no longer in a rush so it felt even longer. The water was still carefully avoided, as none of them really felt the desire to see more undead. It was a relief to find the ones outside the gate gone when they exited the fortress. Dorian was mildly curious where they went, but decided he'd rather not find out. He did have another question though...
"Now that I think about it, I've never seen you cast a barrier. Don't you know how?" Dorian queried, moving to walk next to Faydren.
"Well… no," she responded reluctantly.
"I thought that spell was a staple for any Circle!"
"It is."
"But?"
"The senior enchanter in charge of teaching it hated me."
"I'm sure you're exaggerating."
"No. I accidentally electrocuted her dog once."
"What?!" Dorian's tone was incredulous. Bull and Varric were listening with great interest now, but remained silent.
"It wandered into a prank I was pulling on the new Templars," seeing his horrified expression, she clarified. "The dog was fine. Its fur was just… extra fuzzy for the next week or so."
Dorian, Iron Bull, and Varric all paused to look at one another before bursting into laughter. Faydren blinked at them in astonishment.
"My dear, you are full of surprises!" Dorian chortled
"I can't believe you used to prank the Templars," the dwarf chuckled.
"Nicely done, Boss!" Iron Bull clapped her on the shoulder and she gasped in pain.
"Oh! Sorry, I forgot," he cringed.
"Way to go, you big oaf!" Dorian chided.
"Hey, it was an accident! Don't get your dress in a bunch," Bull growled.
"This is not a dress!"
The banter went on the rest of the way, Varric tossing in jibes now and then at both sides. Faydren walked silently, content to just watch while her eyes twinkled with amusement.
They had been back in Skyhold for a day or two when Faydren was called to the throne to pass judgment. It was undeniably her least favorite duty since becoming Inquisitor. What right did she have to determine someone's fate? But they insisted she was the only one who could do it.
Sitting uncomfortably on the throne, the Inquisitor watched carefully as a man was brought forward. His clothing and appearance were recognizably Avvar.
"This was a surprise. After you returned from the bogs, we discovered this man attacking. The building. With a... goat," Josephine had obviously been practicing saying it with a straight face.
Faydren couldn't help picturing that and felt her mouth twitch. There was a strangled sound from the back of the room as Cassandra forcefully tried to muffle Dorian's laughter. Thankfully, Josephine continued.
"Chief Movran the Under. He feels slighted by the killing of his Avvar tribesmen. Who repeatedly attacked you first. What should we do with him? Where... should he go?"
"You answered the death of you clan... with a goat?" Faydren had to hear the explanation for this one.
"A courtroom?" Movran laughed, looking around defitantly. "Unnecessary! You killed my idiot son, and I answered, as is my custom, by smacking your holdings with goat's blood."
There was complete silence. Was that an actual custom? Many eyes turned to Josephine for confirmation.
"Don't look at me," she shrugged.
"No foul! He meant to murder Tevinters, but got feisty with your Inquisition. A redheaded mother guarantees a brat. Do as you've earned, Inquisitor. My clan yields. My remaining boys have brains still in their heads!"
Movran laughed again and Faydren was struck with an idea. It was odd, but seemed fitting in her mind. If the Avvar wanted to fight Tevinters so badly...
"It seems our conflict was accidental, Chief Movran, but it can't be repeated," Faydren admonished. "I banish you and your clan – with as many weapons as you can carry – to Tevinter."
There was a murmur of surprise and approval from the crowd at the announcement. All present realized that the arrangement could prove quite interesting, and the thought that they might irk Tevinter was a bonus as well. The chief laughed even harder, positively gleeful.
"My idiot boy got us something after all!"
Varric sat across from Cullen at one of the quiet smaller tavern tables upstairs. The Commander had started speaking to him after every mission with the Inquisitor to get a 'first-hand report' – or so he said. The dwarf didn't mind. He loved telling stories after all, and the blonde's reactions sometimes were priceless. Like right now.
"She did what?!" Cullen's mouth hung open, eyes the size of saucers.
"Tricked the gigantic barbarian into grabbing her with his bare hands," Varric repeated, though he knew perfectly well the ex-Templar heard it the first time.
"I know what you said, Varric," Cullen raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "You can't keep letting her be so reckless!"
"Hey, you all are the ones who put her in charge, Curly," Varric laughed.
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't try to stop her," his golden eyes were not amused.
"I'd like to see you try to stop her when she gets like that," the dwarf shook his head. "Stormcloud may not like being a leader, but when she sets her mind to something it's going to happen."
"Sounds like an easy excuse to me," the Commander narrowed his eyes.
"Iron Bull and Dorian were there too, y'know. They didn't stop her either."
Cullen couldn't come up with a good response to that and sighed, looking down into the mug of ale he'd barely touched. Varric felt a little bit bad for poking so much fun... but he really was such an easy target.
"She's always going to think of others first, Curly. I'm sure you already know that by now, but you need to accept it too," he got to his feet and put a friendly hand on Cullen's shoulder. "Otherwise you're gonna worry yourself into an early grave and then who'll lead the Inquisition forces?"
"Cassandra is more than capable, as are many others," was the terse reply.
"Maybe. The Inquisitor would still be pissed though," Tethras decided to leave on that note. He glanced back from the stairs to see Cullen deep in thought with a puzzled look still on his face. Varric smirked.