Chapter 54

Somewhere a clock chimed out the midnight hour as they entered Orzammar. Emma expected people to be chattering about the poor Grey Warden lost in the Deep roads, but unexpectedly everything seemed normal. In fact, the main topic of conversation related to who should be put on the throne. Emma felt some tension leave her shoulders. Had she really dragged everyone from their beds for no reason at all? Blimey, she would need to find some way to apologise. Yes, everything seemed fine, she'd panicked over nothing... and yet something still felt off. The niggling, annoying feeling still twisted in the pit of her stomach. Nor could she rid her mind of that twitching, torn hand buried beneath the pile of rock. She quickened her steps and headed for the entrance to the Deep Roads. A guard stepped forward. "I'm sorry, no one is allowed past this line unless they have permission from a Deshyr."
Emma bit back a snarl. "I'm a Grey Warden, and I have permission from Lord Harrowmont."
Her words were met with a disbelieving snort. "Funny thing; I let a Grey Warden and his team pass a few days ago. Guess what? He also said he was on a mission for Lord Harrowmont, but he had the sodding papers to prove it. Do you?"
Emma wanted to scream in frustration. "No, I don't. We're part of Aedan's team, and we're going to meet him in the Deep Roads."
The dwarf folded his arms and shook his head. "Likely bloody story. Now sod off!"
Emma tried one last time to be reasonable. "I know that Aedan went in with Oghren. Damn it, you must have seen us all talking before we split up?"
"No, I don't remember that. It's been three bloody days since we let that Grey Warden through and my memory ain't what it used to be. Now move along."
Emma slammed her staff on the ground, rage coursing through her blood. "I'm going in. Now you can try and stop me, but it will go badly for you." Purple strands of lightning flickered over her body, giving her a frightening appearance. "That's your only warning." From her peripheral vision, she saw her friends fan out beside her, drawing their weapons in readiness.
Another dwarven guard approached, eyeing the situation warily. "Ah, sod it. Just let them through. If they want to get themselves killed, then that's their problem." The dwarves stepped aside, allowing them passage.
Emma glared at the guard who'd hindered her and spoke as she entered the tunnel, her words echoing back with clarity. "If he's dead, so are you!"

-x-

Having learned how to get the staff to light up, she pushed her magic into it and the crystal shone brightly; Wynne followed suit and lit up the rear of their group. "Search the walls, Aedan said he would leave marks." They examined the rough rock closely and moments later, Leliana called out. "Here! This chalk looks fresh." They walked for a few hours, knowing they were on the right path by the fresh darkspawn corpses that littered the trail. Turning a corner, Emma exhaled sharply.
Rocks of all shapes and sizes were piled on top of each other blocking their progress. She ran forward and searched for a hand sticking out, and breathed a little easier when she saw none. She turned to her companions. "Is this an old rock slide or.."
Leliana shook her head, cutting off the rest of Emma's sentence. "No, this is recent and deliberate."
"Emma, is that you?" The faint sound of Zevran's voice drifted through the barrier.
She moved closer, her heart beating so hard that it hurt. "Yes. Is everyone all right?" Please be okay, please be ok-.
"No. We need help back here."

A coldness spread through her body and she fought against the fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm her. No, he's going to be fine, maybe he just had a broken leg; hell, it might not even be him. Okay, if fate wouldn't play by the damn rules, then neither would she. One of the better spells to emerge from Dragon Age 2 was the Force school of magic. "Get everyone as far back as possible," she ordered. She eyed the mass of rocks; there were so many and some were massive; it seemed an impossible task. Sten stepped forward. "What are we waiting for?"
She glanced over to him, then back to the wall of stone. "Nothing!" Picturing a large metal hand at the top of the pile, she let her mana flow and pressed down. Some of the rocks shifted, but not enough. She closed her eyes and dug deep, opening herself up to the power within and tried again. Emma pushed harder as the promising sounds of crunching rocks filled the cavern.
"Enough, child." Emma opened her eyes and blinked, then grasped her aching head. She looked past Wynne and saw that half the rocks were crumbled to dust; Sten and Shale were currently hefting the remainder out of the way so they could get through. She looked down when Wynne nudged her arm and saw the mage holding out a handkerchief. "I'm not really fussed about dirty smudges, right now," Emma said.
Wynne shook her head. "It's for your nose, you're bleeding."
Automatically, Emma raised her hand and felt the warm dribble of blood. "Thanks," she said as she took the square of linen and pressed it to her nose.

She turned her attention back to the Qunari and golem, watching them work quickly. "So, what did you just do?" Wynne asked. Emma didn't take her eyes from the growing gap as she answered, "It's Force magic, similar to the method you would use to cast a Mind Blast spell."
Shale stepped back and revealed a hole of around 4 feet high and 2 feet across. "We'll keep moving the stones, but it's enough for you humans to get through," Sten said. Emma couldn't reply because the fear and panic were back in full force and gripping her throat tightly. She reached the gap and hesitated, suddenly too scared to know the truth. A large hand pressed against her back and she looked up to see Sten, his expression firm but gentle. "Go on, kadan." She swallowed and stepped through.

Emma stood in the beam of light that filtered through the gap, trying to adjust her eyes to the pitch black ahead. Due to her mana being exhausted, Emma couldn't light up her staff. Then a hand reached out. "This way, Emma." Zevran held her arm and led her forward. The area suddenly lit up with the glow of Wynne's staff when the mage stepped inside and exclaimed in horror, "Oh, Maker!"

Emma would have wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment if she'd heard it, but a roaring sound filled her head. She stepped forward on legs that wobbled and reaching his side, she dropped to her knees, unmindful of the sharp stones cutting into her flesh. "It's a sodding miracle that he's still alive." Oghren's rough voice cut through the static in her brain and she took a long look at the man she loved.
"He said he wouldn't leave you without saying goodbye," Morrigan explained, her voice gentle for once.

Swelling and bruises covered Aedan's face, a sickening dent in the skull revealed where the fragile bone had been crushed. Each pause in his slow shallow breathing seemed like it would be the last, and one leg lay twisted at an unnatural angle, revealing a glimpse of bone. Her eyes dropped to his hands, but she already knew they would be ripped and bleeding, just as she'd seen in her dream.
"Aedan." She reached down and took one of his hands, holding it gently. His eyelids fluttered, and then he managed to pry one open. His gorgeous deep, blue eyes had been obliterated with scarlet red blood, but she didn't care. He still lived, so he would survive. She turned to Wynne, her eyebrows drawn in confusion. "Why are you standing there? Help him, please, you can see how badly injured he is."
Wynne's eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry, child. This is beyond any healer's skills."
Emma turned back to her lover when she heard a whisper of a word leave his lips. She bent close, in the hope that he'd talk again. "You have to keep fighting, Angel." Each word sounded painful to speak.
"Only with you by my side, love," she choked out. Without thinking, she gripped his hand hard, but he didn't even flinch, his body too far gone to feel any pain.
"Not this time." He pulled in a harsh, whistling breath. Tears trickled from her eyes and splashed against his skin as she leaned forward and pressed one last kiss to his lips. She remembered their first kiss, amidst the ruins of Ostagar; his twinkling blue eyes, his firm lips, his hand touching her face.

And at that moment, her heart broke. She expected something spectacular; it had always seemed that way in the books and films. Yet no scream left her lips, she didn't rant at the injustice, she just died inside knowing that she would never be whole again.