I’m gonna go in-character as my Inquisitors for this :D
17. Who wouldn’t you get along with?
Rydel: Solas. That bastard hurt my sister and thinks our people are dirt. I see him again, he’s going to wish he’d hidden better.
28. Would you go after Blackwall?
Evelyn: Naturally. The name Thom Rainier means squat to me, I judge people on my own experiences. The Blackwall I know is a good man and has given more to the cause than most. And Sera loves his hugs. And I do too.
31. How do you react to the egg telling you he is an elven god?
Lyris: He’d hate if you called him that - he would do that thing with his nose and outright refuse to be referred to as a god. Anyway, after finding all of the pieces in the Crossroads, I managed to piece it together. He was never exactly subtle when you think about it.
Wow, Rydel just tried talking to Solas after arriving in Skyhold and it was just icy... Clearly Solas does not like the fact I went for Templars this time. Or Rydel's smart arse remark about him being allergic to Halla. I half want Lyris to put them in a 'get along shirt' now.
Rydel and Loranil would be best friends and would constantly be competing over who’s the better hunter, who’s the best archer and who can stand out in the snow in only their underwear the longest.
Lyris denies being related to Rydel at all and claims not to know a Loranil when she hears about it.
It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon. Leliana’s ravens had all been sent out to deliver messages, so the raucous cawing was absent, and her men were all out on assignment. The only people in the tower at that very moment were the Spymaster herself, Grand Enchanter Fiona and a few of her mages, Solas and himself. The tower was quiet of its usual hustle and bustle and that usually meant ideal reading conditions. But it was not meant to last.
Dorian had been sitting in his arm chair, the Fereldan and Tevinter copies of the Tale of the Champion and a piece of parchment on the arm of the chair. He held the tip of the quill between his teeth as he read, picking out the differences between the original story and Tevinter’s alterations. It was so obvious to him now that of course Tevinter would censure the book that portrayed them in such a negative light – the Tevinter slave, Fenris, was a mere murderer in Tevinter’s telling of the story, so it was shocking to Dorian to learn not only had he been the lover of the Champion herself, he’d even been pivotal in the final battle against Knight Commander Meredith. It was bizarre to have heard the story so many times over the years and then learn that the version he knew so well was brimming with falsehoods.
He scribbled another note down on his parchment, before flipping to another page. Just as he went to start reading, there was a bang from the room below. Dorian leapt to his feet in shock, both tomes sliding from his lap and crashing to the floor, his ink well smashing to the floor as he knocked it over as he seized his staff and sprinted to the railing for some idea of what was going on.
There, brimming with unmatched fury, was Rydel. And he had Solas pinned to the wall by the front of his tunic. Dorian stared in confusion – ever since Solas and Lyris had becomes lovers, Rydel had become somewhat cooler towards the elder (a natural reaction, to be expected of the older brother), but he had never hated Solas and maintained a good deal of respect for him. Whatever had brought this on, it had to be more than just a big deal and Dorian couldn’t help but feel his curiosity pining for its fill before he went to rescue Solas. So he kept his staff at the ready, should he need to separate the two if things took a violent turn.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Rydel spat, fists trembling with anger. “First you take away her vallaslin, then you ditch her? Did she really mean so little to you?”
“That is not the case,” Solas replied quietly. “It had to be-“
“Don’t give me that crap! If it ‘had to be’ the least you can do is tell her why! She won’t say it, but she’s really cut up about it, you know.”
“It is complicated. She will understand in time.”
“She needs to understand now!”
Dorian frowned. They were talking about Lyris – who else could it be? She and Solas had gone to Crestwood a few days ago and upon their return, something had definitely changed. Lyris spent more time in the war room, organising her army, or out in the field to seal Fade Rifts whilst they prepared to face Corypheus and finish him once and for all. Solas, on the other hand, spent a majority of time in his study, painting, reading or sleeping – Lyris’ usual visits to the rotunda had stopped, but Dorian always just assumed it was because they were so close to their final victory now. He thought she just wanted to limit any distractions in the meantime and things with Solas would resume later. But by the sounds of it, he had been quite wrong in his assumptions.
“She cannot afford to be distracted,” Solas said in a low whisper, though Dorian still heard it clearly. “It is for the best. You were indeed correct, Rydel. I am not the man Lyris needs.”
“Finally, we agree on something! You aren’t the man Lyris needs, yet for some reason, you’re the one she wants,” Rydel snapped. “If you wanted to end it, I don’t care. That’s your decision. But why the hell did you take her all the way to Crestwood to do it?! If you wanted to end it, you could have at least had the decency to do it here, where she could turn to anyone afterwards, instead of leaving her in the middle of nowhere!”
Dorian froze in shock at that – he’d expected a lot of things, but Solas ending the relationship when things seemed to be going so well? Had there been underlying tensions over what happened in the Temple of Mythal? Had they been having trouble for some time now? There didn’t seem to be any signs of it, apart from the conversation they had before departing to Crestwood and even then, it was hardly their first argument and it was hardly the worst they had had. What on earth could have happened between them?
“It had not been my initial intention to do so. I had merely-“
He was silenced as Rydel’s fist collided with his jaw, turning his head to one side. And after a moment, Rydel lashed out again. And again. Dorian saw it fit to intervene now, having heard enough and turned to the stairs, hurrying down before the Dalish hunter could do any permanent damage. By the time he reached the pair, Rydel was preparing another punch. Dorian hooked his staff around his arm, forcefully pulling the younger elf away.
Rydel’s attention snapped onto Dorian, baring his teeth and looking incredibly wolf-like in that moment.
“Don’t interfere, Tevinter!” He snarled.
“Come now Rydel, that’s enough,” Dorian said firmly, taking Rydel’s shoulder and tugging him further away from Solas, who kept his head turned to one side, a bruise blossoming along his jaw.
“You don’t know what he’s done-!”
“I heard enough to get the general picture,” he interrupted, keeping a firm, professional demeanour. “Your sister needs you, Rydel. All this accomplishes is you get to take your anger out on someone and how does that benefit Lyris? It will not make her feel better. And we both know this isn’t about making you feel better.” He added the last part with a note of scolding. If there was one thing Rydel responded to, it was when the wrongs of his actions were pointed out. It made him feel ashamed, but it generally straightened his head.
And after a moment of silent, furious glaring between Dorian and Solas, Rydel turned on his heel and marched out of the room like the living embodiment of a thundercloud. When the door slammed shut, Dorian turned to Solas. The bruise was dark and looked very painful. Dorian offered a hand to the elf, only for it to be brushed aside.
“I thank you for your intervention Dorian, though it was not necessary,” Solas said coolly, getting to his feet, fingers probing his jaw gently. He flinched slightly as he touched the bruise – Rydel was not known for being gentle when it came to what he felt was protecting his sister or himself.
“Are you quite sure of that Solas? He might have killed you, had I not intervened. And that wouldn’t make Lyris feel any better.” He watched carefully for Solas’s reaction – his back was to him, but Dorian could detect the subtle tension appearing in his shoulders.
“I do not doubt that would be the case,” Solas replied after a moment. “But that is not the point. If you’ll excuse me, I must return to my work.”
“That’s it? You break up with Lyris, provoking her older brother into attacking you and that’s all you have to say?” Dorian asked in bewilderment.
“I do not see why there is a need to say more. You heard all there was to hear when Rydel confronted me,” he replied calmly, picking up his brush from the floor and setting it on his desk. “Lyris and I are separated now and she is in need of comfort that she does not ask for.”
“Because you refuse to explain your reasoning, I take it? Why is that?”
“It is too complicated,” Solas said shortly. “She will understand in time, but not now. She has more important things to concern herself with.”
“You had no excuse to give her? If not the truth, not even a lie? Anything to make the parting easier, or give her cause to move on?”
“I could have.”
“So why didn’t you?”
“Because I have lied to her too many times already.”
Me: Rydel, please stop demanding Lord Ortranto to meet you in the pit over Josephine, you won that fight already
Me: Rydel, Solas is not going to meet you in the pit, stop leaving notes all over the place demanding him to do so and do something constructive for once, like actually comfort your sister in her heartbreak
Me: Rydel, if Bull meets you in the pit, he will sit on you and it will be embarrassing for everyone, stop it
Me: For the last time Rydel, you can't have Corypheus meet you in the pit, that's not how it works
Me: FFS RYDEL STOP DEMANDING EVERYONE TO MEET YOU IN THE PIT
Rydel: What was that, you wanna go, meet me in the pit fucker! *rolls away on skateboard*
The way I write Rydel, you'd think he was only like, 18-19 years old whereas in reality, he's 30 and it's like, 'Rydel calm down please, you are a grown up please be mature' and he just flips me off as he rolls away into the sunset on a skateboard like the majestic fuckwad he is.
Nowhere was safe, not really. They had thought Haven had been just that – a safe haven for them, a place where the enemy could not hurt them or touch them. It was foolish to believe it – it had been little more than a village with a few trebuchets. No real walls to protect it, nor the soldiers needed to drive back the enemy properly. And no village could handle the attack of a dragon. They had not stood a chance there and if not for the tunnel Chancellor Roderick had revealed to them, they would have all perished. But even now, after the initial massacre of the town’s people unfortunate enough that the Inquisition’s forces did not reach them in time, it seemed the night had one more soul to claim.
Rydel looked back down into the valley, a burning need to turn back threatening to swallow him. He stared down at the heart of the fires where Haven stood burning, no doubt littered with the corpses and wreckage from the attack by the Red Templars. And there, standing alone against the Elder One and his Archdemon was the tiny figure of Lyris. Even from here, he could see she stood no chance against either of them, mark or no mark. So why, for Mythal’s sake, was he running into the mountains rather than standing at her side, fighting?
A hand touched his arm and he looked around to see Solas standing there, features dark as he shook his head slowly. He knew exactly what the younger elf had been thinking and it frustrated Rydel.
“Hahren, shouldn’t someone help her? She can’t face the Elder One alone!” He implored desperately.
“Da’len, your sister is not as helpless as you might think,” Solas replied firmly. “She knows the danger she faces down there, the risks of remaining behind whilst the rest of us flee. She does what she does, because she must. And we must make sure that her efforts are not for nothing.”
“But-!”
“Rydel,” the elder cut over, the look in his eyes enough to close the younger elf’s mouth. “You must have faith in Lyris. She has a powerful spirit and a will that has not yet been dominated by any foe she has faced yet – of that I am certain. Believe that she will do the same here. That is all any of us can do for her now.”
Rydel swallowed hard, wanting to argue how faith had not saved the Divine from the Elder One and how it was useless against a force such as the Red Templars, but he bit his tongue. He didn’t like the idea of running away, but he could just imagine the look on Lyris’ face if he returned to Haven now, which she would obviously think of as the stupid thing to do and would scold him for it. For a little sister, she didn’t really act like it. But perhaps that was just her indomitable will, as Solas had said.
Finally, he nodded stiffly, his shoulders slumping in resignation of just how powerless he was. “Yes, hahren.”
Solas’ expression softened slightly as he patted the younger’s shoulder. “Come da’len. We should not let the others leave us behind. We must be there when she returns to us, when we are safe.”
The refugees were already disappearing over the ridge, following Cassandra and Cullen away from Haven and to wherever safety was. Even he couldn’t begin to think of one place they might be safe, so he doubted any of them knew either. Where could anywhere be safe against a monster like Corypheus?
“I need to give her the signal first,” Rydel said thickly, pulling out an arrow and nocking it into his bow. Solas nodded and cupped a hand over the arrow head, igniting it. Rydel drew back the flaming arrow and fired straight into the sky. The bright orange light rocketed into the darkness, where it burnt brightly before it slowly turned to fall to the earth into a graceful swan dive as it fizzled into darkness once more. She had to have seen it. She had to.
Finally, albeit reluctantly, Rydel turned to follow Solas over the ridge with the rest of the refugees.
When they caught up with the tail end of the group, there was a deafening crash and the group stopped to look back as part of the mountain slid away, snow erupted in a great cloud as the mass of ice and rock descended upon Haven, no doubt burying the village forever. Rydel had to fight the impulse to turn and run back to the village – to his little sister who he had protected his whole life. Ever since they were left alone by their mother’s death all those years ago. He’d promised to look after her, to never let harm come to her and he had failed completely and utterly in doing so. He felt his stomach clench – if anyone could survive something like that, it was Lyris. She had to have survived. She wasn’t allowed to die so easily, not after such a short lived victory.
He didn’t register Solas addressing him, or the tears that slid down his cheeks, but he didn’t resist as the older elf placed an arm around his shoulders and led him away to wherever safety was.
-
Pain. Searing pain in her side that erupted with the slightest movement. She could feel the bitter cold biting through her skin and the hard, wet ground beneath her. Her senses were telling her that she was alive and, for the most part, in one piece but badly injured. Her head was throbbing and her vision was blurry. Slowly, she sat up and the pain in her side blossomed through to her ribs, which she suspected were broken.
Slowly, Lyris tried to piece together what had happened. She remembered running. But not through the Fade, for away from the spiders. No, she had been running from Corypheus and the avalanche… Yes, she remembered now.
She looked up and saw boulders, broken beams and snow had plugged the hole she had fallen down in her mad dash from the trebuchet. She didn’t know what possessed her to run – perhaps the desire to put as much distance between herself and the darkspawn, or because some crazy belief inside of her told her that if she ran, she might live. Whatever the reason, she had ran and she had fallen. And by the looks of the churned up mud and slush, she had fallen straight into the tunnel that Chancellor Roderick had described. Meaning she was safe… For now. But only if she got moving.
Getting to her feet was easier said than done. Everything was aching all over, whilst stabs of pain made stars burst in her eyes, blurring her vision as she wobbled dangerously. She took a moment to balance herself and looked around. Lying on the ground, not far from where she had fallen, was her staff and thankfully, all in one piece. She hobbled over to it and bent down slowly to pick it up. A feeling of warmth surged through her hand and up her arm, like her staff and hand were rejoicing their reunion. The warm feeling certainly helped her feel stronger, and using the staff for support, she slowly began to limp down the tunnel.
The tunnel was completely empty – how long had it been since Haven was buried by the avalanche? How long since she had fallen? And just how far had the others gotten?
A brief panic gripped Lyris for a moment. Had they abandoned her? Would anyone be waiting at the end of this tunnel, in the hopes she’d appear? Or would she be left to wander, in agonising pain until death claimed her? It seemed likely – Haven was gone. How were they to know that she’d had the slimmest chance of escaping? They could be miles away by now, seeking out a new safe place to organise and try to figure out exactly what to do next. And here she was, limping along, wounded and weary, unsure of how long her legs could support her.
But she forced the feelings down – if she was going to live, she had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other until she was somewhere safe, like Keeper Deshanna always said.
When you are lost, de’lan, you must not panic. Fear will undo you and you will make yourself easy prey.
That was right. Control the fear and do not allow yourself to become the prey. One foot in front of the other.
It felt as though hours had passed before she reached the tunnel’s end. Immediately the cutting wind and snow hit her full force, threatening to sweep her off her feet as the blizzard howled. Lyris squinted, desperately looking for a sign – any sign – of the refugees and the Inquisition. But if they had left a trail, the blizzard had concealed it from her. Again a brief panic washed over her, before she wrestled it down again and peered back out into the distance for any other signs.
Then she spotted it. A long burnt out campfire. There would be no travellers on this mountain, there was no road and the blizzards at this time of year made it dangerous. A camp fire, and a recent one, meant one thing. They’d definitely been here and they had waited here for some time if they had set up a fire. They had waited for her. And perhaps, wherever they were, they were still waiting.
A warm feeling bubbled up in Lyris’ chest at the thought – a long stretch perhaps, but any small amount of hope gave her something to work with. She turned to head up the slope, against the wind. Downhill only lead to the ruins of Haven – they wouldn’t have gone that way and the Inquisition did not have the influence to appeal to Empress Celene for help in Orlais. No, north was the only viable option. So she made her way forward, only to sink ankle-deep into the thick, frozen blanket. This wasn’t going to be easy.
Slowly, she began to power her way north, bowed against the wind. At least the pain was numbing – it was easier to focus on moving forwards without the constant stabbing pains in her everything. But as time went by, exhaustion began to set in. As the wind battered her slender frame, Lyris found herself struggling to keep herself from sinking as the snow deepened. A wolf howled in the distance and Lyris thought of just how vulnerable she was at this moment.
If the Dread Wolf means to take me, it will not be today, she thought firmly, gathering every ounce of will she had, pushing forwards. But her lungs were hurting from the effort of breathing, her muscles protesting every movement as they numbed from the cold, her fingers shaking as they dug into her armpits to seek non-existent warmth.
The wolf howled again, closer this time. How fitting it would be, for Fen’Harel to take her now. Tricked into thinking all would be fine, now that the Breach was closed. How foolish they had been to think that their actions in Redcliffe, or that the sealing of the Breach would go unpunished by the Elder One. How arrogant they had been to think that Haven was safe. How stupid she had been to think that her mark – the Anchor, as Corypheus had called it – could protect her. The Anchor was the reason she was in danger and the reason that she now wandered blindly through the blizzard.
What a stupid, arrogant, foolish little girl she had been.
For a third time the wolf howled, closer than ever. But there was something strangely comforting about the sound – as though it were telling her to follow.
Of course it is. Fen’Harel wants nothing more than to take me now.
Despite the thought, she followed the noise instinctively. Her feet were sodden and numb, as though she wore ice blocks instead of boots. Following something was ultimately better than staggering around blindly until she died.
The howl was ever closer now and occasionally, Lyris could swear she could see a white wolf bound across the top of the snow just a few meters ahead. It kept looking back around at her, as though ensuring she was still following. But when she tried to look closer, it was gone.
“I must be going mad,” she muttered. “Wolves do not help people. Not like this.”
It took a solid minute after that thought for her to realise the blizzard had stopped. No. The wind was still howling. She looked over her shoulder and saw she had risen above the storm, standing a few meters ahead of a ridge leading to somewhere else. From here, she could see just beyond the swirling white clouds, down to where Haven had been once. Except it was buried and only the wreckage that had withstood the might of half a mountain crashing down on it even indicated that a village had once stood there.
There was another howl and Lyris looked up. There was no trace of the white wolf – if it even existed – but just up ahead was the remains of a camp site, near identical to the ones further down the mountain. She slogged through the snow, which swallowed up to her knees at this point, until she reached the fire pit.
“Embers… Recent?” She murmured to herself, hovering her hands over the ashes. They sucked up whatever little heat was present and though it wasn’t enough to make them bend properly, it was far better than nothing. She was close.
Hope bubbled in her chest once more as she forced herself back to her feet.
Over the ridge… She could hear voices… She could see fire light… There… Just a little further now…
Running was far beyond her now and walking felt like the biggest challenge of her life, but she pressed forwards at her snail’s pace. One foot in front of the other.
She came out to the top of the ridge and found herself overlooking a camp.
“There she is!” A voice roared in delight. Cullen?
“Thank the Maker!” Cassandra? They were definitely alive?
“Lyris!” A familiar warmth engulfed her as her vision began to blur and she instantly burrowed into it hungrily, needing more. “Aneth ara. Ma serannas…”
“Quickly… bring her to the healers…” Everything was fading.
“…ris… awake…”
Everything went black.
-
When Lyris awoke, an incredible warmth had sunk into her bones, replacing the numb cold from before. She let out a sigh of content at the deeply pleasant feeling, but winced as a sharp shooting pain erupted down her side. She must have gasped, because the figure who had been dozing in his seat beside her jolted awake.
“Lyris!” Rydel cried, pulling his seat closer to her side and reaching out to stroke her hair from her face. “Thank the gods, you’re awake.”
“Rydel… Lethallan, what happened?” She asked, her mind blurry with confusion. She tried to lift a hand to her face, but found the limb heavy and unwilling to move at all.
“It’s alright Lyris,” he assured gently, stroking her hair in a comforting manner, much like when they were children. “Your wounds are healing and we are safe for now. Thanks to you.”
“Safe?”
“Safe. Everyone is safe. Rest for now. I will wake you if you’re needed.”
But Lyris didn’t want to rest. She had to know what had happened, where they were, how many casualties, how bad were her own injuries. But as an unexpected wave of exhaustion washed over her, she found herself incapable of articulating the words as sleep began to reclaim her.
“Rye…” He didn’t need another word, as he took her hand in his larger one, squeezing it tightly.
“You’re safe, little sister. You’ll always be safe when I’m here, I promise.”
“Ma serannas…” She murmured, eyes fluttering closed once more. And for a long time, Rydel was quiet as he watched his sister sleep. She looked so peaceful – she was no Herald of Andraste, not an Agent of the Inquisition nor a mage of remarkable talent. She was just a little girl, lying asleep after a long day exploring the woods with her big brother again. The tension that has been present ever since they awoke in the Haven Chantry finally dissipated as she slept and what he wouldn’t give for his little sister to always be so at ease.
But that wasn’t possible. When this moment passed, she would have to be the Herald of Andraste once more. She would have to help the Inquisition to lead these people, cold and terrified, to a place of safety, where they might decide how best to confront Corypheus. And when the time came, her decisions could decide the fate of more than these people, or their clan or even all of the elves. It would decide the fate of the world and when that time came, he’d make sure she wasn’t alone.
He made a vow that day, as their mother died and crossed into the next world. He would protect Lyris, no matter what and he would make sure she was happy. He would make sure she was safe.
“Remind me why I thought going with you was a good idea,” Varric grumbled, watching as the young elf climbed over the boulders with ease, his dark red hair tousled by the cold wind. He was in his element up here, where not even the most uneven terrain could spoil his careful footing; a skill developed from years of hunting in the forests of the Free Marches, no doubt.
“Because it’s more exciting, being up in the mountains!” Rydel called back, clambering up a ledge before looking back down at Varric and Solas, grinning. “The challenge of manoeuvring the terrain, the constant reminder that should you fall, it means certain death!”
“It’s at time like this, I realise I should have followed the women. They always tend to have more sense,” Varric huffed. “And less suicidal tendencies!”
“You’re not fond of heights, Master Tethras?” Rydel asked with a laugh, pausing to offer a hand to Varric, who took it grudgingly and allowed the elf to haul him up the ledge. Rydel offered his other hand to Solas, but the elder politely declined and pulled himself up, making use of his staff as he did so.
“Not really,” Varric grunted as found his footing and continued to follow the elf grudgingly. “But then again, it’d bother me less if a certain elf stopped dashing off ahead, especially after hearing how an entire squad of trained soldiers disappeared up here.”
“You chose to come; you could have accompanied Lyris and Cassandra, if you had so wished,” Solas remarked, smiling slightly as Rydel took off further up the path again. “Though I will not deny that our young friend here has a considerable amount of energy, considering all that has happened.”
“He’s a sparky little sod alright,” Varric grumbled as they continued to press through the snow, up the roughly carved mountain path. They were high over the valley now, the lights of the forward camp flickering weakly below. They had come far in a short time – an hour at the most, and Varric couldn’t wrap his head around how Rydel could possibly have been able to move fast enough to manage it… Nor how Varric and Solas had been able to keep up at all.
“Let’s see, it should be just up ahead… Yes, there it is!” He pointed at an old wooden structure built into the mountain side, with old, rusted machinery swaying in the wind, letting off a loud, high squeaking sound. The whole thing seemed unstable to Varric, but Cassandra assured them it would be safe enough for them to reach the tunnels through the mountain.
“I hope we are not too late,” Solas mused. “We need to ensure the tunnel is safe should the others need to use it to escape.”
“It’ll be fine hahren,” Rydel assured, grinning. “We’ve kept good time, Master Tethras’ complaints aside.” Varric tried to scowl, but something about Rydel reminded him of another young Dalish elf and he was struggling not to smile instead.
And if it showed, the young elf missed it entirely as he had shot forwards like a bullet, moving near weightlessly across the snow to the structure as he began to climb the first ladder. It was like watching a giant squirrel – he moved swiftly and seemed to stretch himself out to reach the highest rung he could reach and pulled his entire body up using only his arms. He reached the platform above in seconds and proceeded to the next ladder, climbing in the same squirrel-like manner as before.
Solas was smiling as he watched the younger elf disappear up onto the ledge above. “Ah, to be young,” he mused, shaking his head. “Let us hurry, Varric. We do not wish for this young upstart to show us up, do we?”
“Absolutely not,” Varric snorted as they proceeded towards the structure, which gave Varric chills that had nothing to do with the cold. It just didn’t look safe at all. “And we don’t want him wandering into whatever caught those scouts.”
But it seemed Varric had spoken too soon, when a loud yell came from above, with the plain note of fear clear for both elf and dwarf to hear. The pair exchanged a horrified look before dashing towards the ladder. Solas was the first there, climbing as fast as he could manage, Varric close behind. The sounds of fighting floated down to them and gave them cause to hurry faster.
By the time they reached the ledge at the top, Rydel was running back their way, his bow loaded. His scarf was gone, his sleeve torn open and his brace appeared to have been slashed by a long, jagged claw. He dove into a roll, twisting to face back down the track and firing an arrow at his attacker.
It was tall and hideous to behold, with leathery, black skin and a sort of leather breast plate strapped across its chest. It had claws that looked sharper than swords and seemed far too long to be allowed. A row of spines ran from the top of its head, down its back and shoulders and its venomous green eyes sat over a round hole filled with rows upon rows of shark-like teeth. The arrow lodged in its chest and it let out an unearthly shriek, causing the hairs on the back of Varric’s neck to stand on end. Of course, it was a demon. The squad had to have run into it… Maker’s breath, this wasn’t good.
The demon was undeterred by the arrow – as soon as it recovered from the shock of the blow, it advanced on the elf who reached for his next arrow, only to be cut short by a blast of ice freezing it solid. Rydel looked back to see Solas had drawn his staff and fresh flakes swirled around its tip.
“Hurry da’len! Before it breaks free!” He shouted. Rydel reached for his boot and pulled out a long knife and thrust it through the demon’s head. Instantly it shattered into thousands of pieces with another shriek, collapsing to the ground and leaving behind only a pile of ice fragments and the arrow behind. Breathing hard, Rydel picked up the arrow and slotted it back into the quiver, as he sheathed his knife.
“Are you alright Sparky? Not hurt are you?” Varric asked as he reached the young elf, who was apparently still gathering himself.
“I’m fine, it didn’t get me. I just haven’t been so close to one before,” he muttered. Naturally, his previous encounters with demons were all at range, which suited him just fine. He must have ran straight into this one and it had given chase. And Varric wasn’t going to tease Rydel for the pale of his face or the way his eyes looked up the track to the mouth of the tunnel apprehensively. It was only when you saw the bastards up close did the demons really feel like an actual threat and Rydel had been asleep ever since the Breach opened. He hadn’t seen the very worst of the demon hoards. Not yet. But perhaps it would calm his impatient dashing ahead.
“You must exercise more caution da’len,” Solas scolded as he approached, slinging his staff across his back. “If we had not reached you, that demon might have very well killed you. It was a Greater Shade, after all.”
“Ir abelas, hahren. It was foolish of me not to wait,” Rydel replied, bowing his head. Solas patted him on the shoulder and muttered something elven in return, before returning his attention to the tunnel ahead. “I think there were more, but only that Shade gave chase.”
A nervous glance passed between the three men. One Shade on its own was one thing – if there were others, it was likely there was a Rift in there. And Lyris was the one with the mark. Without her, they wouldn’t be able to seal it and there was no telling just how many demons might be inside. Or if any of the scouts that had been sent through were even alive.
“It’d be suicide to go in there,” Varric muttered. “If a whole squad didn’t make it, what chance do the three of us have?”
“They weren’t expecting demons in there,” Rydel countered. “We know they’re there, we’ve fought them. I think we could make it.”
“Sparky, our job was to make sure there was a clear path out in case the others needed an escape. If there’s a Rift, which we can’t seal, they won’t have that escape route,” Varric pointed out.
“All the more reason to go. We need to warn them if there’s a Rift up here so that Lyris can seal it after she closes the Breach,” Rydel countered.
“If she closes the Breach,” Solas interjected. “And if sealing it does not kill her, which is a very real possibility.”
“My point is,” Rydel pushed on, as though he had not heard Solas at all. “If they need the escape route, they need to know about the Rift. They won’t know if we don’t go and then chances are they’ll lose even more men to the demons.”
“Or the demons kill us before we even get to them.”
“Or we get called cowards for not even trying to warn them,” Rydel snapped, scowling as he proceeded into the tunnel, bow and arrow at the ready. The dwarf sighed and looked at Solas, who merely shrugged and followed the younger elf as he drew his staff. After a moment’s hesitation, Varric lifted Bianca from his back and proceeded into the tunnel after his companions.
“Sparky, this is the last time I ever follow your lead,” he grunted.
