Chapter One Hundred Fifty-Seven: Fading In
I walked down the stairs with my brother, towards the ritual that would revive Faren, Maker-willing. But as frightened as I should have been about the ritual –
what if it doesn't work? What if something goes wrong? What if Anders ends up possessed, or worse?
– to my shame, there were other things weighing more heavily on my mind. I hadn't seen my husband since my dramatic failed seduction in the morning, and while I should have been thinking about my friends, or even the large stack of paperwork I'd discovered on my desk, the worry kept distracting me despite my best efforts.
What if he stops loving me? He deserves someone he finds desirable, and that's not me anymore. Is he going to put me aside – or worse, stay with me out of guilt or obligation?
Something must have shown on my face, because Aedan eyed me curiously as we walked in silence. The unspoken question was clear, but I shook my head slightly – I wasn't ready to talk about it, especially not to my brother. He stayed silent, to my relief, but reached out and gripped my hand in support, and I squeezed back gratefully.
Zevran joined us once we reached the main floor, and seemed less inclined to let it slide. He examined me critically and opened his mouth – only to be interrupted by Aedan offering me lunch on the way past the dining room. We stopped in and shoved a few hurried bites of food into our mouths, and the entire time Zev kept trying to get a word in edgewise. Each time he attempted, though, Aedan would reach out and shove something into his mouth – a piece of bread, a small hunk of cheese; by the end the three of us were all laughing, despite my personal agitation and Zevran's apparently insatiable curiosity.
A few minutes later, the three of us headed up into the tower – formerly Avernus' tower, but I supposed now it belonged to Jowan more than anyone else. We'd decided to do the ritual in Avernus' old lab; it was one of the few places we had enough space for the number of people required, and – I hesitated to even think about it – the best place to have to fight an abomination, if Anders' trip to the Fade went horribly wrong. The walls were stone, there was little furniture to destroy, and it was a long distance from the servants' quarters, so there would be a lot of opportunity to kill any abomination before anyone even found out. And the Architect's supposed tomb – really a small empty supply closet near the lab – meant everyone who was aware of it felt uncomfortable enough to attempt to stay away.
I really shouldn't have been so worried about the abomination thing; it wasn't like it was Anders' first visit to the Fade, after all. And somehow Morrigan going into the Fade back in Redcliffe, more than a year earlier, hadn't frightened me at all, though I'd known the outcome. But this unknown, unexpected Fade vacation had me all kinds of nervous – my current marital issues notwithstanding. I couldn't picture anything that could tempt Anders, really, on his trip, but nevertheless I couldn't help imagining what would happen if he became an abomination.
Justice didn't count, not really.
That was where I came in; I would have wanted to be there regardless – whether I'd had a choice or not, I'd been the one who'd given Faren the poison and I wasn't prepared to be anywhere else until this was over – but I was also there for another reason. If something did go wrong, I was our best defense against an abomination, which was always a risk when someone was going into the Fade, no matter how stable or well-intentioned. I'd promised to try to stay out of any physical fighting that might happen; Anders had made me promise to try to avoid anything more strenuous than sparring for a month after the miscarriage – thus why I was still in my dress, not armour – but my templar abilities would be critical. For the same reason, Fred, George, Rolan, and Alistair would be present, and the rest of the Wardens would be right outside.
I'm getting sick of situations in which everyone has to gear up as if for a fight inside my own damn keep!
As we reached the door to the lab, I shook my head and tried to put aside all of my feelings – my fear about my marriage, my guilt for Faren's illness, my worry about Anders going into the Fade – and concentrate on my duty, and on Faren's recovery. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.
Faren was laid out on a cot in the middle of the large room, Sigrun by his side. An empty cot, clearly intended for Anders, was close beside. Anders, Solona, and Donal spoke softly amongst themselves, while Jowan and Velanna, the two mages not taking part in the ritual, listened silently. I watched Solona for a moment; her posture was unusually stiff, her complexion even more pale than normal, but she smiled at Anders and responded to something he said with a slight chuckle. I was impressed, yet again, by her total bad-ass bravery, given that I knew she experienced severe panic when around any Wardens who weren't Anders.
No one stood near the door that led to the sealed storage room we'd told everyone was Avernus' tomb; knowing it was just an empty room, it made me laugh a little inside to see everyone pretending nonchalance. The two templar recruits, as well as Rolan, stood against the opposite wall, looking like they were trying to camouflage into the stone rather than be noticed. I shot them a reassuring smile, and they nodded back respectfully. Conrad, Oghren, Bel, and Wulf stood by Faren's unconscious body, all looking exceedingly uncomfortable. Sigrun nodded at something Conrad said, and the four men left, nodding at us as they went by.
The last person in the room was Alistair. He was leaning against the same wall as the templars, but clearly not with them; his expression was impassive, and he avoided eye contact with me when I glanced at him. His jaw was clenched, though, and his shoulders hunched slightly. I was certain he knew I was there – and he was working hard to ignore me. I rubbed at my chest irritably, hoping to soothe the pain that flared there in response.
Better this than some sort of confrontation here in front of everyone.
I turned away, deliberately staring back at Faren as though he was my only concern.
Aedan's gaze flickered from me, to my husband, and back again, before grimacing and looking away. He squeezed my hand, though, and I gave silent thanks to whatever deity might be out there for giving me a brother. Anders saved me from any further humiliation when he stepped forward and cleared his throat.
He didn't waste any time. "Donal and Solona are going to perform the ritual. I'll be going into the Fade. I've no idea how long this will take, so don't go getting all antsy and cutting off any heads, yes?" He made eye contact with each of us, winking cheekily at me when I rolled my eyes. When he was happy with whatever he saw in each of our eyes, he gestured to Faren's unconscious form. "Shall we?" He plopped himself down onto the empty cot, and Solona and Donal settled onto the floor on one side. Jowan anxiously held an odd bowl-like structure, the wide opening obscured by the edges which curled in and up, hiding the contents. I wondered where the bowl had come from – I'd never seen anything like it – but I could feel magic radiating off of it in waves, and that made the contents clear: Lyrium.
The templars straightened up, hands on their pommels, and Anders rolled his eyes at them as he settled onto his back on the cot. Alistair waved them back, and they relaxed again, pink-cheeked at Solona's deep scowl. With a sigh, Anders reached out and put one hand on Faren's arm, just as Solona and Donal reached out and each gripped one of his ankles. The two support mages closed their eyes and began murmuring under their breath; Anders nodded at Jowan, who bent forward and held the bowl of Lyrium where he'd be able to reach it. With one last, reassuring nod at Sigrun – who appeared to be barely even breathing, she was so tense – the blond mage placed his free hand into the bowl and fell unconscious.
Jowan waited a long moment, watching Anders' face; when nothing changed, he pulled the bowl away and returned it to one of the nearby lab benches. Solona and Donal's chanting eventually trailed off to silence, the two of them slumped uncomfortably in place.
And then...nothing.
We waited. After a while, maybe half an hour, I crossed the lab and availed myself of a chair; Aedan followed me, and settled onto the floor beside me. Zevran crouched against the wall near Alistair, and I shot him a grateful look. A few minutes later, Rolan and the two templar recruits slid down the wall to rest on the floor, and Alistair followed suit. Velanna and Jowan took stools by the bench holding the Lyrium.
