It was a week later that Varric informed Abigail he had some news for her.
“I do have some good news for once,” Varric said. “We managed to scrape together enough money for the expedition. Guess all those bounties actually did pay off.”
Abigail sat down, dumbfounded.
“Really?” she said.
“Really.”
She shook her head, amazed. He'd told her before, but it hadn't really sunk in. “Then—what do we do now?”
“I make arrangements with Bartrand, you scrape up whoever wants to come along.”
“Who do you think I should ask?”
“Anders,” he said immediately. “Well—any of the Wardens, really, but Anders is the healer. Isabela would probably want to come just for the gold, which she's pretty good at finding. Merrill and Fenris...” he shrugged. “Hey, if they want a change of scenery, I won't complain.”
“And Aveline will refuse to go, of course.”
“Of course.”
Abigail ended up getting Anders, Isabela, Nathaniel and Merrill to come with her and Varric on the expedition. Anders loudly complained about the thought of visiting the Deep Roads, but the Templars had practically been on his doorstep recently, so leaving the city would probably be a smart move. Nathaniel had come because Anders was going, Isabela was hoping for treasure, and Merrill wanted to see if she could find any interesting artifacts.
“I don't know much about dwarves,” she said as an explanation. “There's no reason not to look.”
Bethany and Carver were staying behind, and Carver was furious.
“Bethany, Carver, you need to stay here, and look after Mother,” Abigail instructed.
“But--!” Carver protested.
“No arguments. Just do it.”
“Of course!” Carver threw his hands in the air. “We've only been slaving away for years on this expedition, and now that it's time to go, you don't want me to! Bloody typical!”
“I don't want you to go because there's a good indicator of a high mortality rate,” she said. “You need to make sure Mother and Bethany will be alright.”
“I could go, and you could stay!”
“That would end well,” Abigail said, her voice dry. “Let the two apostates try to support the family.”
“It's your bloody Templars the family has to hide from—I should be going, and you should be hiding!”
Abigail put her hands on her hips and looked at him silently for a very long moment, so long that he shifted uncomfortably.
“I hope you realize how stupid what you just said was,” Abigail said at last. “And I hope you don't say anything like that to Bethany.”
“I--” Carver stammered. “I wouldn't--”
“Then look after her and Mother. Aveline will help, you know she will.”
“I—of course,” Carver sighed. “There's no changing your mind, is there?”
“Maybe if you acquired better arguments, there would be,” Abigail said, slinging her pack onto her back. “Since you haven’t, there isn't.”
She said goodbye to Leandra and Bethany (Gamlen didn't care one way or the other if she stayed or went). She also looked in on Fenris to tell him goodbye, something he seemed to appreciate. Velanna, Sigrun and Aveline all came to see the expedition off, Velanna fussing over Merrill like an angry mother hen.
“You lot be careful, alright?” Aveline said, drawing Abigail into a quick, bone-breaking hug.
“We will be.” Abigail patted her on the shoulder in what she hoped was a reassuring way.
“Come back in one piece!” Sigrun advised, exchanging a swift hug with Merrill.
“We'll definitely try to do that,” Merrill assured her with a smile.
“If you don’t, I will—I will go find Falon’din himself and command that he bring you back!” Velanna proclaimed, pulling Merrill into a very tight embrace.
Merrill laughed and patted Velanna on the back, before they parted again. Sigrun slipped a comforting arm around Velanna’s waist.
The expedition was soon off.
“I cannot believe we're doing this,” Anders muttered as the expedition began to move. “This is ridiculous and you're all crazy for it.”
“You’re the one coming with us,” Varric pointed out. "You didn't have to. You could've said no."
“You need a healer, and I wasn't about to let Bethany wander around down there,” Anders said.
“I suppose you're stuck now, then,” Abigail told him.
“S'pose I am.”
“Oh, cheer up, Anders!” Merrill patted him on the shoulder. “I'm sure it will be very exciting.”
“That's what I'm worried about.” Anders muttered. “Since when is 'exciting' a good thing in our line of work?”
The Deep Roads were hot. The tunnels that lead down into them were cold, bare rock, foul-smelling and dug by darkspawn, but the Deep Roads were very different.
When the darkspawn tunnels ended, they came into an enormous hall, lit faintly with dull red light, with a vaulted ceiling and a smooth stone floor. The walls were covered in carved pictures and decoration, enough to rival even that of the finest Chantry hall. It was so huge that the ceiling vanished into darkness overhead, and the far end of the hall was difficult to see.
“Maker...” Abigail breathed, looking at all of it.
“Oh, it's beautiful!” Merrill proclaimed, rushing to one of the walls.
“Beautiful?” Anders asked her, incredulous.
“Yes, of course!” Merrill reached out to trace one of the carvings. “Can't you see? It's lovely.”
“Right,” Anders drawled. “You'll probably rethink that opinion pretty soon.”
Merrill laughed a bit at that, and started to take rubbings of the carvings.
“Why are you so interested?” Abigail asked. “This doesn't have anything to do with the elves.”
“There are Dalish are allied with Orzammar, now,” Merrill reminded her. “So it does have a little to do with us. Anyway, all history is important. I can't just leave all of this.”
Abigail nodded, satisfied. “I would be a shame to leave all this to the darkspawn,” she agreed.
They encountered some darkspawn, but there weren't as many as they'd feared. They came across a number of artifacts that could be sold (any one of which could easily pay the rent on Gamlen's house for a month), but nothing that anyone deemed of extreme importance. Isabela was disappointed with the lack of gold.
Eventually, their path was blocked by fallen debris, and Abigail and her people were tasked with clearing a way down a side path. In addition to this, Abigail also promised to find a missing member of the party, a young dwarf named Sandal.
The side path swarmed with more darkspawn than they had previously encountered, but they made their way through.
“Did any of their blood get on you?” Anders demanded, examining each of them intently after a fight.
“No,” Isabela said, pulling her arm out of Anders' grip. “Why?”
“That's how you get the Blight,” Nathaniel explained. “Their blood mixes with yours.”
“Keep your fighting long distance,” Anders said, with a glare at Isabela, who had been using her blades. “We don't need to risk anyone getting the Blight. We don't even know where the nearest Warden outpost is.”
“Could you help Blight, Merrill?” Abigail asked.
“I’ve tried before,” Merrill said. “It doesn’t work.” she looked at the ground and didn’t say anything else.
They found Sandal, who had used an unfamiliar rune to destroy a large group of darkspawn and somehow freeze an ogre in place. No one quite knew what to make of this, as Sandal offered no explanation, so they pointed him back to the camp and urged him to hurry.
Finally, they made their way past the obstruction, and the party could continue onwards. Bodahn, Sandal’s foster-father, was very happy to see Sandal again, even though he couldn't explain how the dwarf had used his runes either.
Another week of travel found them in a Thaig very, very deep below anything else. The architecture was alien and unfamiliar, resembling dwarven cities in only the barest of fashions. It was cold, very cold, dark and lonely, and every sound echoed tremendously off the walls.
Formations of lyrium twined over and around enormous columns that lead their way to the ceiling, looking like huge trees or the veins of a great animal, and where the lyrium was not blue it was tinged a brilliant red. The red lyrium gave off a strange, sickly sort of feeling, and no one wanted to get close to it.
“Where are we?” Merrill asked, looking at it, her bright eyes enormous. “Why does all the lyrium look like that?”
“This place isn't on any Orzammar map,” Bartrand said. “Older than anything else. Heard about it from two explorers who found it after an earthquake. It was totally sealed up. There's probably a fortune down here.”
“The Veil is...weird,” Anders said, eyeing the red lyrium veins warily. “I don't think we should be here.”
“I think there's something very bad here,” Merrill agreed in a soft voice, rubbing her arms. Even Merrill’s curiosity was tempered by the unpleasant feeling about the thaig.
Abigail could feel it too, a coldness in the pit of her stomach, a bitterness at the back of her throat, a feeling of trespass in the deep parts of her brain. The Veil felt...wrong, calling to mind sour milk and vinegar, rotting flowers or metal worn through with rust.
“There is,” she agreed. “We shouldn't stay here long—or at all.” she looked to Bartrand. “We should go back.”
Bartrand snorted. “A couple of mages belly-aching isn't gonna make me turn us around,” he snapped.
“But--” Merrill started.
“C'mon, Daisy,” Varric urged, patting Merrill on the back. “Let's take a look around, at least.”
Merrill, Anders and Abigail all exchanged uneasy looks, but Abigail's group went to explore the thaig anyway.
The feeling of something bad only grew the more they explored. They found many a curious artifact, and Merrill was fascinated by the carvings, but the sour feeling refused to lift. The strange, red lyrium became more prevalent, and the air was tinged with its smell, a strange coppery scent entirely unlike the lightning smell that normal lyrium had. Eventually, they came to a huge room that looked to be some kind of chapel or temple hall.
The room was enormous, completely covered with lyrium veins, both the red and normal kinds. There were so many lyrium veins that they lit up the room, so bright it was almost like sunlight. The ceiling arched high overhead, but was carved unevenly, the rock walls raw and unpolished, clearly indicating a natural cave rather than one that had been created.
Everything in the room pointed towards the center, where sat an altar carved out of pale stone. The altar was the only thing in the room that was refined at all, smooth and clean.
On that altar was a statue, and the closer Abigail got, the more keenly she felt that sense of wrongness.
The statue was a curious thing, carved entirely out of the red lyrium. It depicted a woman being embraced by a man, the man's back skeletal and the woman's face skull-like, with hollow eyes. Their bodies fused into one at the base, and the two figures were connected by a strange swooping addition that curved from the woman's hand to the side of the man's head. The woman cradled the man's head in her other hand, and the man's arms were wrapped around her waist. Their bodies were both too elongated to be depictions of dwarves.
The statue was large, easily as tall as Abigail's forearm, and It sparked with red lighting, like the blue flashes of untreated lyrium. The Veil around it warped and twisted, angry and rotten.
“What is that?” Anders murmured.
“Definitely something fancy,” Isabela said, eyes tracing the statue's lines.
“Does anyone else hear this—weird noise?” Varric asked in an undertone. “Like...music.”
“No...” Nathaniel said, his eyes riveted on the statue.
“We should get Bartrand,” Abigail said. “He'll want to see it.”
Varric went and fetched Bartrand, who looked awestruck upon entering the room. His eyes immediately landed on the statue. “Look at that,” he breathed.
“What d'you think it is?” Varric asked.
“Don't know,” Bartrand said. “Looks like it's made out of that weird red lyrium.” he reached out to grab it.
“Don't,” Anders said, putting out an arm to stop him.
“Why not?” Bartrand demanded, glaring at Anders.
“There's something wrong with it,” Merrill said, exchanging a worried look with Abigail.
Bartrand snorted, and wrapped his hand around the statue's base. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands, showing the angles of both the people's anguished faces.
“I wonder who they are?” Merrill whispered, her green eyes intent and fascinated, despite her worry.
“Looks like you folks really came through with this one,” Bartrand said. “Tell you what—I'll take it back to camp, you see what else you can find.”
“That seems fair,” Abigail agreed.
Bartrand went to the door, but when he left, the door slammed shut behind him. Varric immediately went over and tried to pull the door open, but to no avail.
“Bartrand!” Varric banged on the door. “The door closed—get someone from your side to get it open!”
“I don't think so,” Bartrand said from the other side.
Varric went white and slammed on the door, pounding on it with his fists.
“Open the door, you bastard!”
“Sorry, Varric,” came Bartrand's voice, sounding more distant all the while, as if he were walking away. “But I'm not gonna split this with anybody—least of all you.”
Varric called for his brother again and body checked the door, throwing all his weight against it, but it didn't budge.
“That rat!” Isabela exclaimed.
“Can we blast the door open?” Nathaniel asked. “Abigail? Merrill?”
Abigail, Merrill and Anders all tried blasting it, but the door was both fireproof and clearly built to withstand an earthquake. It didn't move in the slightest.
“There's another door at the other end,” Abigail said, pointing to the door behind the altar. “Maybe there's a way out through there.”
They went to the door and Abigail pushed on it. It didn’t move either for a terrifying moment, but when Nathaniel and Varric added their strength, it finally creaked open enough to let them past. They slipped through the door and into more strange, winding tunnels, cluttered with the veins of lyrium.
“Did you guess Bartrand was going to pull that?” Anders asked.
Varric shook his head. “I know he's a bastard, but just leaving us down here...” he shook his head.
“We can find out what happened later,” Abigail said. “For now, we should just just focus on getting out of here.”
They agreed, and continued on further into the thaig. The Veil was so strange down here, soft and rotting and almost malleable, that feeling of utter wrongness permeating the whole place.
They came across Rock Wraiths. None of them had known what they were, at first, as they were strange creatures of disparate stones bound together by magic, but once one died, Varric remembered where he had heard of them.
“They're legends,” he said, looking down at a pile of broken stones that was a Rock Wraith's corpse. “They're not supposed to be real.”
“Believe me, a lot of things aren't supposed to be real that absolutely are,” Nathaniel said, exchanging a dark look with Anders.
They wandered the tunnels for some time, but found no way out. They were beginning to become more worried when they found the man.
Deep in a cavern filled with red lyrium, the man kneeled by a pile of fallen rocks, presumably a Rock Wraith corpse.
He was enormous, for one, twice the size of Anders, who was the tallest in their party. His skin was utterly pale, white like a corpse, and he wore long robes that were ragged and decorated with bone.
“Oh, no,” Anders whispered, grabbing Nathaniel's arm.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
The man looked up at them, his twisted features coming into sharp relief. On his face was a metal mask, and it looked half-melted into his skin. He moved slowly, easily, darkness enveloping his figure.
“I see you've returned to the Deep Roads,” the man said, speaking to Anders and Nathaniel. His voice was light, but thick, the words coming very slow, as if he had trouble wrapping his tongue around them.
“Abigail, we need to leave, right now,” Nathaniel said, grabbing Abigail's wrist so tightly he was sure to leave a bruise.
“There is no need for that,” the man said. His voice dripped like fluid, like a strange, soft poison. “I mean you no harm.”
“Decided to stop kidnapping Wardens, then?” Anders snapped, his face gone utterly white.
The man straightened up, all his bones unfolding, his expression forlorn. He towered over them, and his height became quite evident, as tall as a bear on its hind legs. “Yes,” he said. “I thought to use your blood to help my people—but it did not work. Your Commander was right. The idea was...flawed.”
“I could've told you that,” Anders muttered.
“Does someone want to clear up what's going on?” Isabela asked. She held her daggers so tightly that her knuckles were pale, and there was sweat on her upper lip.
“I am the Architect,” the man said.
“He's one of the talking darkspawn that caused a bloody great load of trouble for us in Amaranthine,” Anders said.
“And we should definitely leave,” Nathaniel said.
“Why are you here?” the Architect interjected. “This place is not safe, for my kind or for yours.” he looked at Varric, eyes unreadable behind his mask. “Not even your people would be safe here.”
“My people?” Varric put a hand to his chest. “What do dwarves have to do with this?”
“This is one of their ancient cities, is it not?” the Architect said, gesturing at the hall around them, arm reaching out to encompass the walls. “But the darkspawn avoid it, as does everything else. This is a terrible place.”
“We know,” Merrill said quietly. “Why are you here?”
“Merrill!” Anders hissed.
“I felt a strange presence here,” the Architect said, looking down at the body of the rock wraith, head tilting with the effort. “Something very old. And there is this, of course,” he gestured to a vein of the strange, red lyrium.
“What is it?” Abigail asked.
“Blighted,” the Architect murmured, touching the vein with one long, delicate claw.
“Blighted?” Varric said, furrowing his brow. “It's a rock.”
“It sings,” the Architect says. “It is no mere mineral. The lifeblood of the mountains...”
Anders was shaking. “We need to leave,” he hissed.
“If you wish to leave this place,” the Architect says. “There is a path out of these ruins through that gate,” he pointed towards a door at the back of the room, his long arm unfolding ponderously. "A demon guarded it, but I removed it." he shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "It could not be trusted."
“Wait,” Abigail said, a thought coming to her. “Can you tell us more about these creatures?” she pointed at the fallen corpse of a rock wraith.
“Only a small amount.” the Architect turned his massive head to look at her. She couldn't see his eyes behind his mask, but she felt them pierce her nevertheless. “Old and restless dead, shadows bound in madness and betrayal and hunger—that is all I can understand from them. Who they once where, why they were here—that has been lost. They are only echoes now.” he tilted his head up, towards one of the holes in the ceiling. “Dwarves leave many echoes behind—ghosts and visions who reenact the past. Perhaps these are like them.”
“Ghosts?” Varric raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Oh yes. Wander the Deep Roads enough, and you will find many such creatures.”
“That's true, actually,” Nathaniel murmured in Varric’s ear. “In Kal-hirol, there were lots of them. They showed us what happened before the city fell. Now will you please come on?”
“The Blighted lyrium is dangerous,” the Architect told them as they made their way towards the tunnel he had indicated “There is something wrong in its music. Avoid it if you can—take none of it with you.”
“That might be a problem,” Varric said with a grimace.
The Architect turned his head, examining Varric. “Why?”
“My brother already took an idol made out of the stuff.”
The Architect tilted his head down. “Then I fear your brother may be doomed,” he said. “Perhaps it is good you are separated. You will not share his fate.”
With those parting words, they left the Architect. They found a way out of the thaig, the winding tunnels leading up to the more regular tunnels and halls of the proper Deep Roads. They also found a treasure trove, enough for Abigail to buy back the Amell name five times over. It would probably be enough for Isabela to get a ship of her own, as well, and there was plenty left over for everyone else.
“If we ever get back topside, you can buy your own house,” Isabela told Merrill, nudging her with an elbow.
“Oh—do you think I should?” Merrill asked. “Sigrun and Velanna are ever so lovely—I don't know that I'd want to live on my own.”
“Give it a try. It's not so bad.”