David Gaider - The Calling

The acrid smell of brimstone clung to the air, and the echoing sound of dripping water surrounded them. How far the cavern went on she couldn’t tell. At some point it was all just a greenish haze mingled with the mist.

Maric stood at the edge of the cliff and stared out at the water, awestruck. He said something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch.

“What’s that?” she asked him.

“ Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls. From these emerald waters doth life begin anew. ” He raised an eyebrow when he saw she didn’t recognize the quote. “It’s from the Chant of Light.”

“I didn’t have a very religious upbringing,” she responded wryly. Which was an understatement, but how could he know what it was like in the alienages? There were no chantries there, and when the priests came it was with alms and many words of benevolent advice for the poor elves and their lost, wicked ways … and a large number of wary templars to guard the priests from harm.

“Oh. It’s where Andraste goes to speak to the Maker for the first time. It’s where she convinces him to forgive mankind. It was supposed to be this beautiful temple deep under the earth surrounded by emerald waters. I guess I always imagined it looked like this.”

“I doubt there’s a temple here.”

“I know, I just … never mind.” Blushing slightly, he pointed out a natural path that led down the side of the cliff. “Do you think Duncan really came down this way? This far?”

She nodded. “So it seems. We’re close, however.”

They made their way down the path, which turned out to be little more than a collection of embedded stones at several points, some a fair distance apart. Fiona was still quite drained from all the spellcasting and found it difficult to maneuver with her chain garments and her heavy skirt. Twice Maric needed to steady her before she slipped on the dewy mist that clung to everything, and he helped her down to the next ledge. She curtly thanked him, feeling more like an ass each time.

At the bottom was a shore comprised of mud and slabs of rock mixed in with strange white formations. It was as if misshapen statues dotted the edge of the lake, all of them in the process of melting down into sludge. Perhaps it was sulfur or lime; she couldn’t really say. The formations were surreal, however, and oddly sad. Even with the constant dripping sounds, the entire cavern seemed somehow muted.

“Wait,” Maric suddenly said.

“What? Do you see him? He might be nearby …”

The man rubbed his chin and fretted for a moment, and her curiosity was piqued. She stopped and stared at him, allowing the light of her staff to wink out. There was enough light from the glowing water to see by, after all, even if it cast everything in an odd shade of green. She was getting tired of trying to maintain the concentration.

“I want to thank you,” he blurted out.

“Thank me?”

“For saving my life. When the dragon breathed its fire, you could have let me die, but you didn’t.” Was he blushing? It was difficult to tell in the green light, but the way the man stammered and avoided looking at her, it seemed like he might be. Now it was her turn to be amused.

“Do you think I would let anyone die, if I could stop it?”

He shrugged. “Less ‘anyone’ and more me in par tic u lar. You’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not your favorite person. Not that I’m arguing with you, really, I just … appreciate that you did what you did. I know you didn’t have to.”

“I see.” She laughed softly at his discomfort. She probably shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. “What ever I may think of you, King Maric, I don’t want you to die. I did have to do it, and there’s no need to thank me.”

“No, there is.” He finally managed to meet her gaze, his look completely earnest. “I will find a way to repay you. I promise.”

Fiona’s objection died on her lips. She wanted to tell him that he could keep his promise of repayment. She didn’t want any human lord to “owe” her anything, especially since the chances that he would actually see such a notion through were next to nothing. What was a debt to an elf, or a mage, to such a man? Especially since there was no debt to speak of.

But she couldn’t tell him that. And she didn’t know why. For a moment there was only hushed silence on the green shores of the endless lake.

Then she shuddered and the moment ended. He looked away, embarrassed, and she turned around. “If you like,” she agreed, shrugging. She imagined he was good at empty gestures. It was part of his kingly charm, no? With any luck he would simply forget the matter. In fact, that’s what would most likely happen.

They walked along the shore, weaving a circuitous route past the white formations. Another sound joined the echoes of dripping water in time: a strange murmur that seemed to come from all around them. Maric suggested it might in fact be the water, but she wasn’t so sure. The water rippled, making the green lights dance upon the ceiling, but there were no tides or splashes or anything else that might make such movement. She sensed no darkspawn, but that didn’t mean there weren’t other things living here.

When they found Duncan, it was without warning. The young man sat on a particularly large formation next to the shore, this one a great blob that almost looked like a ship. The “prow” hung over the water, and there he sat with his feet dangling over the edge, staring glumly out into the distance.

They approached, but Fiona didn’t want to step onto the formation. The white surface looked slick, almost slimy. Who knew just how stable it really was, as well? The stench of salt assaulted her nostrils.

“Duncan?” she called to him softly.

He didn’t look. “Came to get me, huh?”

“I wanted to come. Duncan, this is silly. Why are you doing this?”

“They don’t want me to come back.” He sighed, staring down into the murky depths beneath him. “Genevieve, maybe, but not the others. And I don’t want to go back.”

“So you’d prefer to wander around down here in the dark?”

“It’s not so dark,” he chuckled, though it was flat and bitter. For a moment the greenish light shining up from the water intensified, almost as if responding to his words. He stared down at the glowing patterns formed by the ripples, fascinated.

“But it’s dangerous. Genevieve almost ordered us to leave.”

“She should have. I would have.”

Fiona looked to Maric for help, but the man merely shrugged helplessly. He barely knew Duncan, but she’d assumed they had formed some kind of connection during their days traveling together. Still, what was he supposed to say? He stared at the lad with compassion, maybe even with understanding, but he remained silent.

She grabbed on to the nearest outcropping of the white structure, testing it to make sure it wasn’t going to collapse under her weight. It was surprisingly solid, and at the same time it felt vaguely coarse and slimy, as if its surface were made out of sandy sludge just short of dissolving entirely into goo. It left a pale, gritty residue on her fingers as well. She pulled herself slowly up, feeling the heels of her boots sink into the muck, and gingerly made her way to where Duncan was sitting.

“Be careful,” Maric called after her.

She knelt down next to Duncan, careful not to sit in the sludge as he was. It was plastered all over his leathers, she noticed, like he had been wallowing in it.

They didn’t speak for several minutes. Fiona just looked out over the green water as he did, admiring the play of the light upon the ceiling. The strange murmuring continued, ebbing and flowing just as the lake was. She noticed odd shadows moving beneath the water, as well. Fish, here? The source of the sounds, perhaps?