Yay! The last Deep Road chapter! It is the main reason why this chapter is so long - I wanted them out of that place. And in the next chapter, they'll be out of Orzammar. Today I'm leaving on a two week holiday, and there's no internet connection, so I probably won't be able to reply to your reviews until I'm back.

Big hug to Seika, for her super fast beta reading so I could post it. Thank you so much, hun! :)

The Edge of Abyss

They found the magical monster Hespith mentioned an hour of walk from their camp. Only it wasn't a magical monster at all. It was a huge stone statue with five faces, surrounded by small stone anvils, placed in front of the only tunnel leading out of this cave. Zevran would have felt relieved, but he was sure there had to be a catch. The dwarves were brave and strong warriors; if this thing had defeated them, they better not underestimated it.

"Right," said Airam, rubbing his nose. "Let's see how this work. Shale, you're the least squishy of us, so we'll try it on you, all right? Go to that thing, but don't touch anything."

Shale did as ordered; a few dwarven spirits appeared around the statue, but they did not attack her.

"They're not attacking?" Airam frowned. "Of course," he said after a moment of thinking. "They're guarding the way! Sten, please, try to go around it into the tunnel. Shale, if the spirits try to go after him, stop them."

Sten didn't make two steps, when the statue came to life. With screeching sound, the eyes on the statues' faces lit up with a red glow, and one of the small anvils pulsed with magic. The air tingled with magical energy, and the next moment Sten was hurled aside, as if he was just a toy. With an enraged cry, Shale turned and slammed her fist into the stone face; but despite putting her all force into the blow, there wasn't even a scratch. Before she could try again, the dwarven spirits swooped on her. She destroyed one with a heavy blow to its head–and two more appeared. In the meantime, the ugly statue kept sending bolts of energy in Sten's direction.

"Retreat!" yelled Airam. "Shale, come back! Now! You too, Sten! No arguing!"

Thank the Maker, the dwarven spirits didn't pursue them; Airam still insisted going further until the statue and spirits couldn't see them.

"Is running away our new custom now?" asked Sten acerbically, as Morrigan started healing him.

"What else could we do?"

"We could fight."

"And die. Right. Look, I'm fed up of this game. You want to die there? Go ahead. I won't stop you."

"We must fight together–"

"No chance. I won't let you risk the lives of my friends for your foolish idea of warrior's honour. If you want to fight, you fight alone. If you want to stay, you're following my commands. It's as simple as that."

There was a moment of tense silence as Sten and Airam stared at each other. Zevran cursed inwardly. Did the big oaf want to challenge their leader again? Well, forget it. It would be a pity, lately Sten had become much more bearable and it would be a blow to lose such skilled fighter, especially in this ass of the place–but he wouldn't hesitate to slit the oaf's throat. He coated his daggers with a strong poison before they broke camp; if it came to a fight, it would be over quickly.

But it seemed he didn't have to worry.

"You've matured," muttered Sten with a slight nod.

"Thank you," said Airam, but he didn't smile at all. "Now, let's get to the more important matter. No wonder the dwarves didn't stand any chance. Dwarves might be immune to magic... though I can't confirm it. My magic worked just fine on those few I had to fight. But that thing, it causes spiritual damage. Immunity against normal magic is useless here, and dwarven poultices won't help."

"So it is hopeless?" asked Shale. "After all we went through, we will be defeated by that stone thing?"

"There must some way. It would be foolish to create such a guardian without the way to deactivate it," said Morrigan.

"Then you can cast some protective spell on us, yes?" asked Shale.

"There are no spells that would protect you completely against spirits and with so many of us to protect, it would be even weaker. Both me and Morri would be completely drained, and if you needed help or healing..."

Zevran agreed. It would be too risky. There had to be another way... "What about those small stone anvils?" he suggested.

"What about them?"

"Well, that glow had to mean something, yes?"

Airam looked at him, surprised. "What glow?"

"You didn't notice? The moment the statue's eyes started to glow, one of those anvils started to glow and pulse with power, too."

"It started to–hm... could it be? It's possible... but we can only be sure if we try... but how... who..." Airam stood up. "Come on, everyone! I think I have solution!"

Bewildered, they followed him back to the statue. The spirits were gone, and it looked like an ugly but innocent statue once again. There Airam explained the plan. It sounded crazy, but as nobody had any better idea, they agreed to do it.

"You have to do exactly what I tell you and only what I tell you. No matter what happens. Or we'll all be crushed. Do you understand?" he asked, looking directly at Sten.

"Yes," Sten replied.

It was simple, crazy, and dangerous. But it worked. Rask was sent into the tunnel, and the moment the statue came alive, Airam cast a force shield on him–both protecting him and keeping him at one place. Then Zevran, Shale, Sten and Oghren attacked the glowing anvil. They were attacked by the dwarven spirits, but they ignored it, protected and healed by Morrigan and Airam's magic. It was extremely difficult, as all of his instincts were telling him to fight back, to defend himself. But that would only create more enemies, so he forced his will to focus on his task. The others had the same problem and, more than once, he and Sten had to stop the other two from ruining the plan.

By the time all five of the anvils were destroyed and the statue was silent again, he felt worse than after the Crow endurance tests. Not so sore, of course, thanks to the constant healing, but just as drained and exhausted. He staggered back to his backpack and sagged down; a cup was pressed into his hand, and he drank it without question–and only then realized it was Oghren's hard liquor. Based on the horrid taste, he was almost sure it was the infamous Dragon Piss. Coughing, he grabbed his waterskin and drank almost all its content, to the great amusement of everyone else. But he had to admit, it worked marvellously.

"Good, eh? Normally I would not waste it on you, elf, but you deserved it today."

Zevran got up and hugged the dwarf, patting one of his braided moustaches seductively. "My dear dwarf!" he purred. "I am honoured. But the next time you want to bed me, it is enough to ask, yes? You do not have to bribe me like that."

Oghren pushed him away so hard he landed on his butt, but he didn't mind; the dwarf's embarrassment was too amusing. "Keep your pants where I can see them!" he yelled, his face as red as his hair, so it looked as if his whole head was on fire. "Damned knife-ear! That's what I get for my kindness... To think I spent my best liquor on him..."

"What would you do if it turned out he was interested?" Airam teased him, when Oghren stormed away from them.

He tilted his head and grinned at the boy. "Now I'm not sure if you're trying to give me nightmares… or if you are jealous."

Airam laughed. "Of course I'm jealous. Of Oghren's moustaches," he said. "All right, then. If you're fine, I suggest to get going. The sooner we find this Anvil, the sooner we can get out of this horrid place."

He didn't seem embarrassed and he didn't blush at all. How disappointing.

oOo

They expected more traps in the tunnel, but it seemed that whoever built the ugly statue thought it was unbeatable–apparently they hadn't expected that a little elven bookworm would be able to solve the puzzle so easily. So there shouldn't be any reason for Zevran's uneasiness, but he was sure they were being followed. Maybe it was Branka, but why, then, did the crazy woman not come out and join them?

The tunnel was only a few miles long, opening into the biggest, most magnificent cave Zevran had ever seen, full of carved stone pillars and huge stone tablets on the walls, covered with some writing; at quick glance it seemed like a list of names, so even Airam lost interest in it pretty soon. Much more impressive were the golems, at least twenty of them, standing in two lines in the middle of the cave, forming a sort of corridor to a flight of stars with a platform on the top. Zevran guessed that was where the Anvil was, though it could not be seen from below. The golems were bigger and broader than Shale, making her look like their little sister.

"I used to be like that, before Wilhelm decided I needed to be slimmer," she grumbled.

"Stupid brute," said Airam cajolingly. "But you're still the most charming golem ever. That one, for example," he pointed with his head to the biggest one at the end of the line, "is quite fat. Don't you think it's fat, Zev?"

Before Zevran could answer, the said golem started to produce strange sounds. It took him a moment to realize that it was laughing.

"I have been called many things, but never fat," it thundered in a deep voice.

"I apologize; I didn't mean to be rude," peeped Airam.

"Do not worry, little one. It feels like centuries since I had a laugh… in fact, it probably is centuries. What year it is now?"

"Nine thirty," said Airam sympathetically.

"That can't be. It was nine forty when I created the Anvil."

They stared at each other, equally nonplussed. Then Airam's face cleared. "Oh! You mean Imperial calendar! Um, no… by that count it's already… wait… twenty one twenty five. The new calendar was introduced, you know, after the death of the Holy Prophet Andraste and the forming of the Chantry–"

"That does not matter now," Shale cut in. "How is it awake without using the control rod?"

"Ah, a voice I know. Shale, my dear! I am so happy to see you again."

Now that was unexpected; for Shale just as much as for the rest of them, judging by her expression. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"Do you not recognize me, Shale?" the big golem sounded disappointed and sad. "I am Caridin."

"Caridin, as in Caridin' Cross? The one who made that ancient, all-powerful Anvil?" asked Airam, all fear forgotten.

"I don't know about Caridin's Cross, but I am indeed the smith who created the Anvil of the Void. Unfortunately."

"Airam Surana, the Warden Commander. These are my companions, Zevran, Morrigan, Oghren, the big guy is Sten and you already know Shale, it seems."

"A pleasure to meet you. But if you are here for the Anvil, then I have to disappoint you. I cannot allow anyone to use it."

"And why not? Is the Anvil broken?" inquired Shale. "There is another Blight going on. It is needed once again."

Caridin shook his head. "You would not say that if you remembered what happened. You were once fighting at my side, trying to stop the fools who didn't see the truth. The Anvil is evil." He turned to Airam. "You must not use it and start it again!"

"We will not, then." Airam shrugged. "But could you please elaborate? Why is the Anvil evil? What are you talking about?"

"Back when I created the Anvil, we were in a desperate situation. The tainted creatures were overwhelming us; our empire was falling apart. I was a smith, a good smith, known for my weapons and armours. I established my own house and a town. Bownammar, I called it."

"You founded Bownammar? Wow! I thought it was founded by Legionnaires–all right, all right, I'll shut up now. No need to frown at me like that, Sten. Please continue."

"But no matter how strong my armours were, it was not enough to save our people. And so I decided to make the ultimate armour; one that would be indestructible and guarantee our victory. It took me long years, but finally I created the Anvil, and, with the Anvil, I created the golem's armour, made of stone and steel."

"An armour?" Airam looked at Shale, confused. "So… I can open it, and there will be a dwarf inside?"

"Ridiculous," Shale snapped, "you would only find a dwarf inside me, if I'd eaten one for dinner."

Caridin smiled. "No, there is no opening and no dwarf inside. But Shale was a real dwarf, once."

"I… was a dwarf?"

"Yes, Shale. You were one of the best warriors of the house Cadash, and volunteered to be merged with the golem armour in order to defend your thaig. It is not possible to create a living thing, you see. For each golem that was created, a dwarf had to die. They put on the golem armour, and then it was filled in with the strongest, purest red lyrium, and forged on the Anvil of the Void. It merged the soul of a dwarf with the armour, and they became new, stronger, invincible soldiers."

There was a moment of uneasy silence. Airam spun and looked at the stone tablets on the walls. "So those names are…"

"Yes. They are the names of dwarves who became golems."

Zevran felt chills run down his spine. There had to be at least a thousand names. Wynne had said lyrium was dangerous and caused psychosis and a lot of other problems. "Why would anyone volunteer to that?" he asked aloud.

"It was the only way to defeat the tainted creatures. But not all of the dwarves whose names are on these tablets volunteered. King Valtor demanded more and more golems, many more than we had volunteers. So he decided to use other sources. At first he only brought casteless –"

"What?!" Airam clenched his fists in fury.

Morrigan pouted. "I don't understand why are you so angry. I say 'twas a wise decision. If the darkspawn had defeated the dwarves, the casteless would die as well."

"I agree." Sten folded his arms. "I suggest doing the same."

"No," snapped Airam in a very Sten-like tone. "Let Caridin finish."

"Thank you, Warden. The King didn't bring just casteless, but also prisoners, political opponents, or anyone he did not like. These people were not warriors, and did not want to become golems. In order to ensure their obedience, one of my apprentices, Hirol, created the enchanted rods that controlled them. They became puppets, without any free will, mere toys in the hands of their owners. I wouldn't agree with it, and so I was betrayed. One night I was invited to the King's Palace for a dinner–I was a Paragon, it was nothing unusual…. And when I woke up, I was in this body. But their plan didn't work completely. None of the control rods worked on me. So I took a few golems and their rods, and brought them here. I used them to build traps and create the five-faced guardian stone, and sealed the door to the Anvil. Nobody has come in since then, until you. Now you see why I can't let you use the Anvil."

"Then why didn't you destroy it?" asked Shale.

"You think I didn't try? All those years, I was trying to find a way to destroy it. But I am one of its creations now. I can't cause it any harm."

"All those years… more than thousands years, you were closed here, alone, trying the impossible?" Airam looked around him. "How could you stand it? I'd throw myself into the lava pit ages ago."

"No. As long as the Anvil exists, so must I, to prevent it from happening ever again."

"We will destroy it for you, then."

"You should reconsider. It would help against the Blight," said Sten; and the argument started again.

Zevran was not sure what to do. Sten and Morrigan had a point; with hundreds of golems at their side, they could end the Blight tomorrow. But Caridin had a point, too. Sooner or later, someone would start the mass production of golems again; and besides, what would the dwarven kings do with all those golems after the Blight? Who could say they wouldn't turn against their former allies? And, finally, what Airam was saying to Sten was also true–it was not right sacrificing dwarves to save surface races, to stop the Blight on the surface, but to endanger the people living here.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of endless discussion, Airam had enough. "Enough! This argument stops here. I said we're going to destroy the Anvil. Are you going to help, or will you stand against me again?"

At that moment, a small figure jumped from behind one of the golems. Brasca! He was getting soft; he should have notice her arrival.

"No! I will not allow you to destroy the Anvil! It is mine!" And before Zevran could do anything to stopped her, she drew–not a sword, but a controlling rod. "Kill them!" she yelled.

With horror, he watched as six of the big golems sprang to life and ran towards them, earth shaking under their feet. Well, at least it wasn't all of them, he thought as he readied his bombs. He wasn't completely unprepared; thanks to Shale he had pretty good idea of what worked on golems, but six at once? That was going to be difficult. Unless… perhaps they didn't have to fight all of them.

"Take that rod from Branka!" he shouted. "Airam, Morrigan, cover our backs!"

It was not so easy, of course. The golems were determined not to let them anywhere near Branka, and they were almost immune to most spells. The blizzard slow them down a bit, but they did not freeze. By the time they took down two golems, they were all exhausted and injured. This didn't look good at all. At this rate they would all–no. Focus.

"Noooo! Morrigan!"

A time seemed to stop as he turned and watched Morrigan fly across the room, hit by the rock missile, and crash into the wall. She slumped down, and remained there, silent and unmoving. One of them… died? Unexpected pain pierced his heart. He had seen so many of his Crow comrades and partners die, and it never meant anything for him. But this was different. Morrigan was not just a comrade–she was a friend.

And then the time exploded and everything happened at once. Shale was roaring in rage, lunging at Branka, and one of the golems launch another missile in his direction and Airam was screaming in fear, holding a dagger–

oOo

When he woke up, his head ached worse than ever. "I'm not dead?" he muttered in surprise and tried to sit up.

"No," came a short reply, and someone pushed him back down. "Don't move. The Warden said you must lie down."

That was a good idea, as even thinking hurt. "Sten? What happened?"

"We won."

Zevran moaned in despair. "I realized that, yes. But how? And what about Morrigan? Is she… "

"She is not dead. The Warden is with her. When you and she fell, the Warden cast a strong spell on Branka. Shale then crushed her head and took the rod. The other golems stopped attacking then."

"But how-"

"Parshaara. You have more questions than than a little imekari. You should rest. In silence."

Zevran chuckled–and regretted it immediately, as it sent fresh bolts of pain into his brain. Perhaps resting in silence wasn't such a bad idea after all.

oOo

When he woke up again, he felt much better. Sten was nowhere around, so he got up and looked around. Morrigan was laying on the bedroll next to him, unconscious and pale, her whole chest covered with poultices and bandages. The Qunari was studying the names on the tablets again. Oghren was piling stones between four pillars–probably making a tomb for his wife. And Airam was –

His heart skipped few beats. Airam was standing on the edge of the lava pit, leaning forward, as if he wanted to see how far he could lean before he fell in. Zevran almost cried out, but bit his tongue. It would be too dangerous. Cursing inwardly, he wrapped himself in shadows and sneaked behind the boy. He wrapped his hands around Airam's chest and pulled him away from the edge.

"What- Zevran!"

"What were you doing, bello mio? Do not scare me like that. What if you-"

"Jumped in?" Airam snapped, pulling away from him. "Not before the Blight is over, don't worry. What would Alistair and the Wardens do without me, right?"

"What are you saying?" Zevran grabbed Airam's shoulder and shook him. "Never say that again! Don't give up on your life! Once the Blight is over, it will be only the beginning, not the end."

"Oh, that's rich, coming from you! Didn't you do just that? You think it makes difference that you didn't do it yourself but chose someone else to do it? Your blood would be on my hands, but the decision was still yours!"

What Airam said was true, but that didn't make it hurt less. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I had no other option. You do."

"And you know nothing about me and my life, Zevran. What does it matter to you, anyway? After the Blight is over–or whenever you want, you know you're free to do whatever you wish–you can walk away and forget it as one chapter of life, a material for another anecdote about the crazy, immature Warden Commander. While my options would be the same wherever I'd go–to wait till the Taint kills me. So keep your lectures for someone who cares!"

They glared at each other for a moment, and then Airam stormed off to Morrigan.

oOo

That had to be the weirdest day of Zevran's life. He sat apart from the others, leaning on one of the pillar, with an indifferent smile on his lips, hands crossed behind his head and outstretched legs–as if he was enjoying a pleasant afternoon on the Antivan beach, not drowning in fear, confusion, disappointment and anger in one of the ugliest places in the world. No, in fact in the ugliest place in the world. There couldn't be anything worse than this. He wanted nothing more than to tear down the pillars and the tablets and smash everything in pieces and then set it all on fire. But he would not let the others see his weakness. And it wasn't possible, anyway.

So many times in these past few months, he had said or done things he thought for sure would make Airam angry with him… and he never was. Now, for once, he had done a good thing, tried to help, and Airam sent him away. That was what those words meant, no? 'You can go whenever you want.' He didn't want to go. But if Airam wished so… never let it be said that Zevran stayed where he wasn't wanted. He had his pride, after all.

He saw Airam coming over with a bowl of food and closed his eyes, pretending he didn't care.

"I brought you dinner."

The tin bowl clanged on the rock. Zevran nodded, but didn't open his eyes or said anything. After a short, tense moment, he heard Airam sitting down next to him.

"Zev, I… may I talk to you?"

"If you want to tell me I should leave you don't have to bother. I'll leave tomorrow."

There was a sharp intake of breath. When Airam spoke, after a moment, his voice was broken, as if he was fighting tears.

"If–if that's what you want… then I won't stop you, Zev. B-but, I… look, I'm so sorry for those terrible things I said. Can you forgive me? I know I don't deserve it, I always hurt those I–those I care for, I bring them nothing but pain and death. I wish..."

Shocked, he finally looked at Airam; the boy was trembling, and his face was ashen and desperate. Before he could find words to reply–everything seemed so lame and inappropriate–Airam continued.

"Morrigan almost died because of me… she still might. I did all I can, but she's not better. If I listened to her, if I only did what she wanted, she'd be safe. And Branka would be alive. All I did was wrong, and then I took out my anger on you, and now you hate me, too." Airam hung his head

Zevran wanted to kick himself–he should have realised what was wrong. Of course this crazy kid would blame himself for everything bad that happened. And instead of helping, Zevran behaved like a petulant child and made it worse. But he had no idea what to do. Consolation was not among his strong points. When he told Airam about Rinna, the boy hugged him. Should he hug him, too? What if he became angry again?

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you," he said softly, shifting closer to Airam and carefully wrapping his arm around Airam's shoulder. The boy didn't pull away; he took that as a good sign.

Airam looked up at him, desperate and on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry. Please, Zev. Don't be angry with me. I can't–I need you. Please, don't leave."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said and he couldn't help smiling. A stone bigger than a golem dropped off his heart; he was almost surprised the whole cave didn't shake at the impact. "I thought you wanted me to leave–never mind that," he added with a wide grin, when he saw Airam's confused look. He shifted a bit closer, unwilling to let Airam go. Clang! Something hot was trickling along his leg. Brasca, he completely forgot about the stupid bowl.

Airam gave him a strained, ultimately unconvincing smile and pulled away. "Sorry for falling apart like this. I'll bring you a new bowl of stew. It's not much, I'm just as bad cook as Alistair, but it should be edible. You stay here–that hit in the head was pretty bad. You should be resting, not dealing with an incompetent brat. I'll be right back."

As he reached for the bowl, the sleeve of his robes curled up a bit, revealing a nasty looking, fiery red cut. Zevran frowned. The boy caught his stare and hastily try to cover it. "It's just a scratch, don't worry," he said.

It wasn't a scratch–it was clearly a cut by a blade weapon. That itself was strange enough, as the golems didn't have swords and Airam was nowhere near Branka. But why didn't Airam heal it? It shouldn't be that difficult. "It's inflamed. You should take care of it, or it could cause problems."

Airam shrugged. "I can't. I'm completely drained. And when I'm not, I'll need it for Morrigan. And I've run out of lyrium potions during the battle. I'll make some tonight, but till then it will have to wait."

"Then use a poultice. Or a healing potion! Don't tell me we're out of those, too."

"We are, in fact. You were all in a terrible shape. Sten was like a torn rag when I got to him. Your injury seemed worst, but you have an incredibly thick skull." Airam smirked a little. "I have only a few left, and I'll need those for Morrigan. We'll be staying here for a few days, until she's able to walk, so I can make some later; hopefully the rest of you won't need it by then."

He sounded exhausted and his movements were sluggish, as if he moved by sheer will. Zevran cursed inwardly. He was so absorbed in his own feelings that he didn't notice it before. "You won't be of any use to Morrigan or anyone else if you collapse. Come, sit here and show me that injury. Even if you can't heal it now, you should clean it and bandage it, to avoid infection and scarring."

"Maybe it should leave a scar," mumbled Airam, but sat down obediently. "As a warning against idiocy." He glanced towards Morrigan. "I'll never forgive myself if she dies."

"If she dies, she dies. Such things happen," Zevran snapped sharply. Airam winced and looked at him with wide eyes. "You did all you could. There is no use blaming yourself, or working yourself until you fall from exhaustion. Morrigan is not stupid. She knew this would be dangerous and that she could die. All of us knew. We decided to come here of our own will."

"But she wouldn't have come if I hadn't convinced her."

"Don't overestimate your manipulation skills," he said, and chuckled when Airam blushed a little. "Especially with such a master in that area as Morrigan."

"Yes, but it was still my stupid decisions and mistakes that brought us here."

Zevran sighed. He was sure there was more to this stubborn determination to take all the blame, but this wasn't the best time to pry. Airam was on the edge anyway. Then he remembered the words Rinna's ghost or apparition or whatever it was told him, back in the Temple.

"Only someone with your ego would say that."

Airam blinked. "What?"

"It is our fault just as much as it is yours. Please, don't take our right to make our own mistakes."

This time the smile was more convincing, if still not a proper one. "I've never thought of it that way. You're right! I'm a super-awesome Warden Commander... not my fault that my companions make so many mistakes, right? All right, then. I'll be right back with some food-"

Airam tried to got up, but Zevran pushed him back down again."I'm fine, no need to worry about me. But you, my dear, look awful. Did you eat anything? Or sleep? Thought so. You stay here, I'll bring your bedroll and food."

"I can't rest yet, Zev. What if Morri-"

"If there is any change, I'll wake you up, don't worry. You won't be of any use anyway, if you don't get some rest."

Airam gave him a weak smile; when he returned with the bandages, bedroll and food for both of them, the boy was already fast asleep.

oOo

The next day was much better. Morrigan was out of danger, though she still didn't wake up. When Airam announced it, everyone's mood improved immediately–Shale was still glaring at Oghren, who didn't move from Branka's grave and Sten was still as pleasant as sour milk, but the tension of the previous day was gone. And replaced by boredom. When Airam wasn't pouring healing magic into Morrigan–Zevran wouldn't be surprised if she glowed in pale blue light for the rest of her days–he was discussing something with Caridin and Shale. Zevran was supposed to rest, but he was feeling fine and full of energy; sitting in this disgusting place doing nothing was worse than being imprisoned.

So when Airam approached him with broad smile that meant he wanted Zevran to do something, he was happy and eager and agreed before Airam could say what it was.

"Should you really agree so quickly?" asked Airam, chuckling. "Last time you did that, you became a spider bait, remember?"

"Yes, but there are no spiders nearby this time. So what is it you wish from me, hmmm?"

"I want you to go with Shale, Sten and Rask to Shale's home town. Cadash thaig. Caridin says it's only two days walk from here, and at least the first half should be safe–he put guardians and traps from that direction, too. He'll deactivate them for you, of course. There's shouldn't be a bigger problem- "

"Wait, wait," he cut in when the initial shock decreased a bit. "You want me to go to some forgotten thaig with those two? And you would be here alone with injured Morrigan and a dwarf angry over the death of his crazy wife? No. Forget it."

"Yes, but..."Airam looked around and dropped his voice. "Oghren is exactly the reason I need you to do it. Oghren helped us a lot... and all we did was kill his wife. Me and Shale, you know. When Morri and you were out, I used my strongest spell, desperate to get that damned rod from her. Shale was right next to her, and she hit her, full force. Smashed her head into thousands pieces, you know. Right in front of Oghren. And I don't have to tell you what it's like, to watch the person you love die like that."

Zevran nodded. "So you want to... what? Apologize? Console him?"

"I don't know myself, yet," Airam admitted with a shrug. "But I must at least try. And besides, I need a team that will trust each other and cooperate; we'll need both Oghren and Shale, on our way back. That will be the second part of your task. To talk with Shale."

"You must be kidding, yes? What am I supposed to tell her?"

"I don't know. Use your manly charm! As long as you don't tell her she's fat, you'll be fine."

They both laughed at that, and Airam took it as a sign that Zevran agreed. He still didn't like the idea of leaving Airam behind, but he could understand it, and was in fact bit impressed. The crazy kid was growing into a good leader.

It was agreed they would leave the next day–or, more precisely, after Airam would have sufficient number of poultices and potions ready. They were going without a mage, and he didn't want to risk more than necessary.

"Zevran is in charge," he insisted on the strategy meeting. "You two are even worse tacticians than I am. Especially you, Sten. Your idea of tactics is to roar 'For honour!'-or what it is you're roaring–and rush on the enemies. I spent a lot of time an energy mending you, and I'll be really pissed off if you get yourself killed. I'll go to the Fade and kill you again, if you do. Same for the rest of you. So try to stay alive and whole."

And so the next day, Caridin led them to the other end of the cave. They had to cross a thin rock bridge across the lava pit; it looked as if it would crumble down the moment they stepped on it, though Caridin assured him it could easily bear twenty big golems at the same time. Still, he was relieved when they were safely on the other end.

He looked back, but he couldn't see their camp any more; it made him feel uneasy. For the first time since he pledged his loyalty to Airam, he was leaving him. It felt weird. It felt wrong. But he forced himself to turn back and move forward, followed by a grumpy Shale and an indifferent Sten. The only one who seemed happy to go was Rask; Airam bribed him with a promise of a whole roasted nug. Zevran wished his wishes were that simple.

oOo

Travelling without Airam was just as boring and uncomfortable as he thought. They progressed in silence, pressing forward as quickly as they could, resting only when they were falling asleep on their feet. Nobody talked or joked or complained; it was driving him crazy. At one point he started to sing a merry Antivan tune, but it sounded hollow, as if the endless stone around them stifled it before it could begin properly. The other two didn't react in any way and after a while he admitted his defeat and stopped.

Caridin gave them small stones that were glowing with a cold white light; that was good, of course, without light they would be lost after five minutes, but he missed Airam's little wisps, buzzing around in circles. They would be better company than Sten and Shale. And, he missed Airam. With every step he took, he missed him more. He missed his jokes and cheeky comments, the sight of him crouching over the book, his laugh and his sparkling eyes... He chuckled. He was worse than Leliana. And the crazy kid thought he wanted to leave? The first thing he would do, when they returned was talk to Airam about future. The Warden Commander would still need a bodyguard, no? And a friend. And perhaps–don't go there. Don't hope too much.

With a sigh, he forced his mind to focus on the task before them, and to pay attention to things around him. If he wanted to see Airam again, he should survive first. And yet, the thought lingered on the edge of his consciousness, unspoken, but no less intensive.

oOo

Well now. They came, they saw the monument, killed all darkspawn, and now they were on their way back. He tried hard to see some meaning in it all, but he didn't. This had to be his most insignificant mission since he was an apprentice. But it seemed it did mean something to Shale, so he kept his mouth shut. There still was the second part of his mission, and it wouldn't help to make Shale angry with him even before he tried.

To his surprise, it was her who came to him, when they set a tiny camp. He just started cleaning his daggers, when she stood next to him. "Would the painted elf talk to me for a moment?" she asked, and it was obvious she was very uncomfortable.

"Of course! How can I be of service?"

She didn't answer immediately, but he didn't press her, pretending to be fully focused on what he was doing, though in truth, he was burning with curiosity. What did she want to discuss, that it made her so nervous? Perhaps she wanted to woo him, now that she knew she also used to be a squishy thing? He chuckled inwardly at the idea.

"Is it angry with me?" she asked finally.

Not what he expected. "Why should I be angry with you?"

"Not the painted elf," she grumbled impatiently, "It. The Warden."

The nickname irritated him more than ever. After all the crazy kid did for this pile of stones, he deserved at least that bit of respect. "He does have a name, you know. I've never heard him calling you a golem, or it, or anything else than Shale. Perhaps it's time to return the favour, yes? All these nicknames were funny at the beginning, but it's old now."

To her credit, Shale looked embarrassed, and Zevran softened his tone. "As for your question, no he is not angry with you. Why would you think that?"

"I killed Branka."

"Well, he froze her, no?"

"Yes. But he wouldn't kill her. I knew it. That is why I killed her. I didn't want her to survive."

"Why?"

"She wanted to create more golems. She heard what Caridin said and she still wanted to do it. When I volunteered, I wanted to protect my home. It is a warrior's duty to do anything he must do protect the others. But all I became was a... a machine for killing. A slave, without its own will. I may not have my memories, but I am sure I never volunteered for that."

"I... understand," he mumbled. It was similar to his own fate. A slave. A creature with stone heart. A killer. If he knew someone had the power to make thousands of innocents undergo that change... he would kill him, too. "You did a right thing."

"But It... the Warden. He's still friendly with that dwarf. He would spare that horrible woman because of that."

"That is quite possible, yes," he admitted. "Just take the three of us. He gave a second chance to an assassin, to a killing machine, to a murderer... why not to a foolish man who loved a wrong woman? What Branka did was hardly Oghren's fault, and I daresay it hurt him more than any of us. Would you really want Airam to turn his back on him, now that he needs help most?"

Shale mused over with for a while. "That is true, I guess," she admitted. "Perhaps It would keep both of us, after all. It would be a pity to leave now. I understand that the Archdemon is a big winged lizard. That is almost as bad as a bird. I would like to be there to squish it."

Zevran stared at her. She was–she was worried that Airam would send her away? We're almost like twins, no? Both the same fools. Grinning, he pat her on her stone knee. "Do not worry, my friend. We will squish it together and cut off it wings. It will never poo at any statue again."

She frowned and for a moment he was worried it offended her. "That would be quite a poo. It is good it wasn't here while I couldn't move."

Yes, exactly the same fools.

OOo

When they returned, they found everything as it should be, once again: Airam ecstatic, Morrigan acerbic and Oghren drunk.

"You're in your best form again, I see," he said to Morrigan. "Any next life experience?"

She glared at him. "It was a bliss. There was a lack of annoying assassins there."

"If you're not happy to be back, just say the word. I can easily rectify it–I am an assassin after all, as you so cleverly observed," he offered.

"Oooh how scary! Yes, please try. You would look so much better as a frog," she snapped, and then turned to Airam. "Now that they're back and this foolish, sentimental side quest of yours is over, can we finally get out of this place?"

"Of course!" Airam was beaming; it seemed nothing could ruin his good mood. "We're going to crown the king! Oh, you don't know!" he added when he noticed Sten disapproving look. "You have to see this! Caridin made it for us, before we destroyed the Anvil!"

He ran to his backpack and returned with a massive crown of gold; a real masterpiece, perfectly crafted and decorated with diamonds. Even Sten had to admit it was beautiful.

"But we still don't know who should be the King," Zevran reminded him.

"Never mind. We'll use that backup plan of yours–and with this, we can pick whoever we want. What do you say, Sten? Wouldn't you like to be the King of the dwarves? You could bring order into their society." He put the crown on Sten's head. "It suits you. You'd be an impressive king, wouldn't he, Zev?"

"No," he replied.

Sten made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "I think Shale should be the Queen," he said, took the crown off his head and put it on Shale's. "I understand dwarves revere the stone."

There was a moment of shocked silence, before Airam started laughing. "Sten! You made a joke! That itself made the trip to this place worth it!"

It was the best day of their stay in the Deep Roads–better even than the night in the old thaig. They joked and talked and tried the crown; Morrigan pretended she was annoyed, but she couldn't fool an assassin. It was obvious she enjoyed all the compliments about how regal she looked. And they did have a bath, too. While they were gone, Caridin brought what looked like a big stone chest so Airam could bath Morrigan and clean her wounds–something she would never forgive him, as it seemed.

Caridin watched them and listened to their stories, but he never joined them. He would often glance to where Anvil was, or to the lava pit. "He's like that all the time," Airam whispered. "I'm really worried about him."

Zevran quirked a brow at him. "Do you wish to take him with us, too?"

"Well, he would be a huge help, don't you agree?" Airam chuckled. "But he doesn't want to come."

"You mean you actually invited him?!"

Airam blushed and didn't answer.

oOo

The next day, before they left, Caridin gave them a dwarven blessing of the ancestors. Oghren and Shale bowed their heads, and even Morrigan kept quiet for once. Maybe she was just too happy to be leaving to care.

Zevran was at the rear, as they filed out of the cave. When he glanced back, Caridin was standing on the edge of the lava pit, patiently watching them leave.

oOo

Bang! The heavy stone gate shut back behind them. The sweetest sound in his life.

"The Wardens are back!" someone shouted, in a quite surprised tone. Tch. Were there any doubts?