Thanks to all of you for reading! Special thanks to Oleander's One for her patience, friendship, and sharp betaing eye!
"Varric, here's another one," Hawke called, and Varric jogged forward to join her. They stood together looking down at another body in Legionnaire armor. Varric knelt reverently next to it. He had never been one for dwarven honor, or clansmanship, or revering the past the way most dwarves did, but these small forgotten bodies stirred something in him.
He touched the cracked leather cover of the journal the dwarf held in front of him, sliding it carefully out of the skeletal hands. Slowly he opened it to the last page, touching each sheet gingerly to avoid having the paper crumble beneath his fingers.
"This was a member of the eighth group of Legionnaires sent after Tethras Garen," he said, his voice lowering to a whisper of its own volition. "They knew it was a fool's errand—he had to be dead—but they came anyway, because that's what Legionnaires do. They keep going in the face of even the most impossible odds." He patted the breastplate of the dwarf's armor. "You died bravely, salroka." To the best of Varric's recollection, he had never used that word sincerely before, but it seemed apt here.
"I have to ask," Sunshine said softly, as if she was afraid to break into his thoughts, "but is there a significance to the fact that this missing man was named Tethras?"
Varric chuckled. "Tactfully put. If I remember correctly, when Tethras Garen was declared missing, presumed dead, members of the Garen clan took the name 'Tethras' in his honor. Eventually, one became a Paragon in his own right—developed a faster-growing mushroom, if I recall correctly, although usually the family likes to pretend it was for something higher-minded and far less practical. From that mushroom-growing sod comes my family."
The elf looked down at the skeletal remains of the Legionnaire. "This must be a disturbing way to find out about your family."
There was more in those green eyes than sympathy for a dwarf, Varric could tell. There always was. And in this case it was misplaced anyway. "Oh, I already knew. This is …" But somehow he couldn't be flip about it. The dwarf at his feet had given himself to the dust on a futile cause. Usually Varric found useless nobility of that stripe worthy of mockery, but not today. He clutched the ancient leather-bound journal to his chest. "Let's go."
No one had any objections to that—all of them felt the same pressure to get out of the depths of that dungeon and return to the light, by whatever means they could. More darkspawn lay in wait for them in the midst of the gassy bog they were floundering through, and they were all exhausted by the time the darkspawn lay at their feet. Sunshine burnt the tainted bodies and they all saw to it that their little supply of clean water was used to be sure they were all injury-free and washed clean of any tainted blood.
"How do darkspawn live down here?" the elf wondered. "What do they eat?"
"According to Blondie, nothing. They feed off of darkness."
"Charming," Rivaini observed, lifting one boot out of the mud and trying to shake the clinging ooze off.
"Hey, watch it!" The elf leaped aside as muck splattered his leggings.
Rivaini grinned at him. "See, this is why I don't wear pants. So hard to clean."
"Is that why? I always wondered." Hawke nudged the pirate in the ribs, appearing oblivious to Sunshine's sudden flush. Varric eyed the mage with interest. He wouldn't have pegged her as Rivaini's type, or vice versa, but they looked awfully good together. It would make a good story—the pirate and her mage lover, mayhem on the high seas. But only if he could keep Hawke from intervening on her sister's behalf. Not that Hawke distrusted Rivaini … but where her baby sister was concerned, Hawke was conditioned to be overprotective. And Sunshine's choices of partner up until now hadn't exactly been inspired. Blondie and the First Enchanter had both gone insane in a mad search for power. Rivaini, on the other hand, only seemed crazy until you got to know her. Hawke knew that as well as Varric did.
Sunshine had walked a little ahead of the rest of them, peering around the ruins of a wall. "Evelyn," she called.
"What did you find?"
"Another one … another dwarf. I think this one's different." Sunshine's pretty face was wrinkled with worry as Varric came closer to her. "I'm sorry, Varric."
He moved faster to catch up with her, and rounding the corner of the wall, saw what she had seen. "Oh."
"Is that him?" Hawke was hovering over his shoulder, her voice unusually soft.
"I think so." He couldn't have said what was so special about this set of bones. It looked pretty much like all the others—finer quality decayed armor, sure, but still roughly the same style and materials—but something about it suggested the face of the person who had inhabited those bones. Tethras Garen's spirit was still there, Varric thought, and then mentally slapped himself for being such a sap.
"We should … say something," Sunshine offered. "Varric, do your people say any words at such a time?"
He started to bristle, to hotly deny any such kinship with the dwarva as she was suggesting, but something stopped him. "Yes, we do. Atrast amgetol tavash aeduc." He knelt next to the bones for a few more moments, then stood up, clearing his throat.
"What does it mean?" the elf asked.
"I've got no sodding clue." He pushed past the whole group of them. It was rare that he resented being surrounded by humans—and one very tall elf—but at this moment he did. A dwarf would have understood and shut their trap. Or offered him a drink.
"Varric." Of course, Hawke was the only one of them who never took no for an answer. "Here." She handed him a flask. He took a deep drink, feeling the warmth of the liquor wash through him.
"You should've been a dwarf, Hawke."
She chuckled. "Yeah, I can see that. Too late now, though. I'll have to let you shoulder the dwarfiness for both of us."
"'Dwarfiness'? I take it back."
"Can't. You already said it." She put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. "You going to be okay?"
"I think so. Don't know what came over me."
"History's a pretty tough thing to dodge, especially when it keeps shoving itself under your feet. He seems to have been quite a guy, this Tethras Garen. Must be genetic."
Varric cleared his throat and rubbed his sleeve across his eyes. The light down here was dim and murky, he told himself. That must have been why suddenly everything was blurry. It couldn't have been tears—tears didn't fit his image at all.
"So," Hawke said more loudly, giving him time to recover himself, "what do you say we get out of this blighted tower? I don't know about you, but I've spent quite enough time underground, thank you."
"As a dwarf, I should take offense to that remark, Hawke, but I really, really don't."
They turned around and rejoined the others. Sunshine gave him a completely unhelpful sympathetic look, which he accepted gracefully because he knew she meant it well. Rivaini handed him another flask she took out of the top of her boot. Varric considered for a moment whether he'd already had enough to drink, then he glanced around at the murk that surrounded them and decided there was no such thing. He drank deeply of the smooth whiskey. The elf looked ahead, squinting in the dimness.
"I believe we should proceed in that direction," he said in his overly ornate speech. The ladies might like that, but Varric didn't see what was so exciting about taking half an age to say "that way." He was a garrulous dwarf, he was the first to admit that, but at least he said something when he said something.
The elf went first, with Hawke at his side, and Rivaini followed the two of them. Her head was in constant motion, spying into all the dark corners looking for chests to open and barrels to tap. You had to admire her—she was pirate to the core.
Varric said as much to Sunshine, who nodded. They walked in silence for a few moments before Sunshine opened her mouth. "Varric?"
"Uh-huh?"
"Do you think … No, never mind. It's foolish."
"There are no foolish questions, Sunshine. Only fools who don't ask."
She frowned. "I'm not sure I know what that means."
"Well, let me know when you figure it out. Maybe you can explain it to me." He smiled up at her.
The mage looked as though she was about to try her question again when there was a shout from up ahead. More darkspawn. Hawke and the elf were already attacking; Rivaini had disappeared into the shadows.
The colorful flashes of Sunshine's magic lit up the darkness next to Varric, and for a moment he wished dwarves could be mages. It would be nice to be able to bring that kind of power to play.
"Not," he whispered to Bianca, "that you aren't enough for me." He patted her stock as she spat forth bolt after bolt, taking out the darkspawn with her customary efficiency.
With a thundering of giant feet, an oversized darkspawn thudded past, headed for Hawke. Its enormous shield swung with every step. Before Varric could get out of the way, the shield clipped him in the head, sending him sprawling. The last thing he saw before blackness closed in on him was Bianca sliding across the muddy stone floor.
Wakefulness came slowly, along with a thudding pain in his head. He frowned at Bethany's serious eyes peering into his.
"Your pupils look all right," she said.
"I didn't get hit in the pupils. Can't you do something about this pain?"
She shook her head. "I don't think so. My spells don't seem to penetrate right."
He said a few obscene and uncomplimentary things about dwarven resistance to magic before getting to his feet. The pain intensified for a moment once he was standing, then receded to its former thud.
"Sorry, Varric." Bethany looked crestfallen at her inability to heal him.
"No worries, Sunshine. It's not your fault." Something was horribly wrong, however, and he had to stop a minute to think what it was.
"Missing something?" Isabela was holding out Bianca toward him.
Varric reached for the crossbow, feeling her satin-smooth stock beneath his fingers again. "I'm so sorry, baby," he crooned to her, cradling her gently in his arms before anxiously checking her all over for scratches. It was difficult in the dim light, but he knew every curve of her body, every surface, so well that he could tell by touch if there was anything awry.
"Well?" Hawke asked after a few moments.
"She's fine."
"Excellent. Can we keep going now?" She sounded testy. Varric glanced up and saw that she had that strange, ugly sword in hand again, and it was pointed in the direction they'd been going, as if the sword wanted to keep going on its own if the rest of them weren't ready to follow.
Fortunately, they were. In Hawke's current frame of mind, Varric wouldn't have wanted to slow her down any. He exchanged an unhappy glance with the elf as she led the way, striding forward like Aveline on the rampage.
"Think we can get that thing away from her?" he asked.
"Doubtful. I attempted to do so while she slept and she woke immediately. I believe the only remedy in this situation is to kill this Corypheus."
Remembering Gerav's empty eyes, Varric tightened his grip on Bianca. "With pleasure."
They followed Hawke in grim silence along a narrow ledge.
"Look! It goes up!" Sunshine's eager voice made Varric quicken his steps. Sure enough, there was an incline, as the mucky path turned upward. He felt a pressure inside himself to rush, to run up that climb and get the sod out of this dank little hole.
He wasn't the only one to feel that way—all the others were moving more quickly now, too, slipping and sliding in the ooze as they hurried up the stairs. It was a blissful relief to hear Hawke's heavy boots ring on cobblestone again, and an even greater relief to see a doorway ahead that, presumably, led upward.
It was less of a relief to see another of those great seals between themselves and the door, and to have to watch Broody and Sunshine's faces when Hawke again used her blood to open the seal. Varric was glad to have no particular views on magic. It seemed to make life a lot easier.
The giant guardian monster appeared, casting illusions of itself all over the room. Varric followed Hawke, who ran at each one in turn, but eventually stopped that and instead followed Rivaini, who always seemed to know which was the real target.
The monster was down at last, all of them breathing hard and winded, but no one actually wounded, which Varric was sure must be a relief to Sunshine. He had noticed she tried not to use lyrium if she could avoid it, but the effort of healing required more work on her part and she had to take it more often when they got injured.
They pushed through the room with the seal in the center to see a cobblestoned courtyard and a door that Varric devoutly hoped would lead upward. But in front of it, a less welcome sight. The monkey-faced half-Warden half-ghoul hurried toward them. Varric groaned. What now?