Family Ties: Chapter 2
Title: Family Ties: Chapter 2, Chapter 1, Chapter 3
Author:kadens
Artist: Anna (in production) with banner and mix by sagacious_rage
Beta: Amanda
Canon: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening
Ratings: PG
Warnings: Violence, adult situations
Chapter 2
It was almost too dark to see more than the one darkspawn in front of her, but Reese didn't have to see them to know they were there. She sensed three genlocks in the shadows to her right.
Oghren drove home his two-handed death blow with a mighty yell, tossed the dead hurlock off his axe, and wiped a bloody hand on his beard.
"Filthy, sodding bleeders," he growled, then honed in on the unwary genlocks and disappeared in that direction, yelling wildly and swinging his axe in a wide arc. Reese ticked off the genlocks in her mind.
That only left two hurlock alphas to the left, about a dozen more hurlocks coming down the tunnel behind those…and something else. Its powerful taint flickered in her awareness like a candle flame in a brisk breeze, as if it were either spread out or fast, or both.
Great. A potent breed of darkspawn they hadn't encountered before. What else could go wrong on this rescue mission? They didn't have much time. They were holding their own for now, but they were going to be getting tired soon. And they still had to find a way out. If Alistair was down here, she had to find him now.
If he's still alive. Maker, please let him be alive.
She lowered her left shoulder and rammed the alpha in front of her with her shield, knocking him off-balance. He staggered backward a step and had a single breath to grunt in surprise before Reese took his head off with her sword on the follow-through. Her momentum carried her around and she landed facing the exit they'd been heading for. A massive iron-hinged door opened on a wide corridor that disappeared into darkness, only the sound of their battle echoing back at her. She had a bad feeling about that hallway. It was too defensible; if it led to a dead end, they could easily be trapped there. But in that direction, she could sense two pockets of taint. One was definitely a small group of darkspawn. The familiar texture of the other made her heart skip a beat.
She looked around. Anders was hexing everything that came through the tunnel entrance as Nathaniel fired off shot after shot at weakened enemies. Oghren was finishing off the last genlock.
"Nate!" she called to the tall, dark archer.
Ten feet away, he loosed an arrow and turned to meet her gaze. "Commander."
"Nothing gets through this doorway until I get back. Nothing."
"Yes, Commander." His eyes lost focus for a moment before fixing back on her. "We'll hold the door, but hurry."
She tore off down the dark hallway, following the taint, and praying to the Maker that the king was still in one piece.
The hall took a hard left after about twenty feet and turned into a secondary hall. This one was lit with a few sputtering torches and opened into a wide room.
Left. He's in the room to the left. There were a handful of tainted creatures in a room to the right, but the door was closed and she had no time to deal with them, only to hope that they hadn't heard her approach or the sounds of the battle behind her.
She gripped her sword tightly and stepped quietly towards the open doorway. Sweat ran down her back between her shoulder blades, and her hands trembled slightly. It was a fear more powerful than any she'd felt facing the Archdemon. She was afraid that what she found when she crossed that threshold would steal her hope and her only real reason for living.
No time for fear, pup. You already know what you're going to do. Your enemy doesn't. It was what her father said to her before her first battle. She could still see the steadfast confidence in his grey eyes as he held her shoulders and gave her those words. She had been trembling, growing more agitated, and losing her focus. His words had slammed a lid on all of that.
She needed his wisdom now. She pushed her focus outward, into the calm of the moment and away from the emotions roiling inside. It helped. The others would expect her to keep it together. They would need her to get them out of here, with Alistair, or with his body. Maker knows how they would manage that, but she wouldn’t leave him here with the darkspawn. She held her breath as she pressed against the doorway and eased one muscle at a time into the room.
It was empty, except for a single sputtering torch and Alistair tied to a chair under it. His head was thrown back against the top of the chair, eyes closed. He was naked to the waist - no armor, no weapons - and barefoot, a large, oozing gash across his chest. His left eye was grotesquely swollen and dried blood caked the corners of his mouth.
She took two quick steps into the room before the fear grabbed hold of her fully and her legs went weak. “Alistair…,” she whispered.
His one good eye blinked open slowly. He raised his head, squinted into the darkness where she stood, and gave her a wan smile. "Hey, beautiful. Have we met before?"
Reese nearly fainted with relief. He'd had worse beatings, but bruised and bleeding without his armor or his sword, he had never looked more vulnerable. She wanted to throw a blanket around him, build a fire, something. Still, any other man left to rot like this would have looked defeated. He just looked…unbreakable.
She stepped closer, into the light. "You look like hell."
His smile wavered. His eyes searched her face and he replied in a choked, dry voice, like a starving man offered a scrap of bread, "You've never looked better. The taint, I felt you…"
Reese dropped to the ground at his feet and sliced the bindings on his ankles and wrists. "Maker, Alistair, who did this to you? Can you walk?" He shook the ropes free, and grabbed her face in his hands. She kissed him hard, then pressed her forehead to his and willed her strength to pass through that physical bond.
Alistair's hands fell to her shoulders and he tensed in her grasp. She pulled back and knew something was wrong. His mouth was drawn tight and his eyes flicked once to her left, the doorway. But all he said was, "I think my bruises have bruises, but I can manage."
So the trap was sprung. She glanced at her sword on the ground by his feet. Andraste's blood!
“ Let’s get you out of here. The others are on their way.” She knew it was a lie; Nathaniel wasn’t in the habit of disobeying orders. She leaned down to examine the bindings as a pretext to get her hand on the hilt and get a mental bead on the doorway. Then, in one motion, she leapt to her feet with her sword in hand and lunged.
There was a man in the doorway, with grey eyes. He took a single step and disappeared into the shadows, and that’s all she saw before the world collapsed in on her.
Damn, a mage. I hate it when they do that.
An invisible hand grabbed hold of her, squeezed the air out of her lungs, and darkness closed in around her like she was falling into a deep abyss. From very far away, she heard Alistair call out.
“ No!”
An electric sensation swept over her and pried off the crushing grip one finger at a time. She collapsed heaving on the floor. Between breaths, she saw Alistair grimace, stagger and fall to one knee beside her, trembling and sweat-soaked. How he'd summoned strength to free her from the spell, she couldn't guess. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved the king behind her, her sword raised level between them and the darkness. Alistair clutched at her shield arm for support.
In the distance, she could just hear the shouts of her Wardens and the faint ringing of metal on metal. But no sound gave away their attacker, not the scuff of feet nor the whisper of fabric.
It was a clever trap. Standing in the torchlight, she was all but blinded to movement in the shadows along the wall. Now the darkness itself was her enemy, the impenetrable corners a hiding place for a maleficar who could reappear anywhere. She bounced from foot to foot trying to defend every direction at once. She dared not leave Alistair unprotected for a moment; she was pinned down and that made her nervous. But the kidnapper wouldn't have lured her here only to kill Alistair now. Whoever he was, he wanted something from her.
She thought she sensed more movement in the shadows near the doorway. She tensed for a lunge in that direction, but a voice broke the silence.
"So you're Reese Cousland. I thought you'd look more like your father."
If he'd said that darkspawn make good nursemaids, she couldn't have been more surprised. How did he know her father? Was this someone she had met? She did not recognize the voice, and yet something about it was familiar. More importantly, he did not lisp or register as tainted. It was not a darkspawn, awakened or otherwise.
"Rendon Howe saw the resemblance. Step into the light and you will, too, coward."
"Coward is a nasty name. I prefer Feyl. You're a fine one to boast. Noble enough for royalty, but not too good to kill a man and beggar his family for revenge. That makes you no different from me. Well, except for the company you keep. I suppose you left poor brother Fergus to clean up the mess in Highever?"
He was still hiding in the darkness, but his voice gave him away. He was moving slowly to her left, circling the two of them like a wolf closing in on wounded prey.
"If Howe's downfall brought shame upon his family, that can be laid at his dead feet. And what my brother's doing in Highever is irrelevant. All that should matter to you and me is the price you'll pay for attacking the king. Who are you?"
"Do you expect a simple answer to that? Because there is none. None that you would like."
Behind her, Alistair coughed as he staggered to his feet. "Can we get on with this? I'm meeting Zev for a game of Diamondback tonight."
"Convince your mabari to stand down, Your Majesty, and we can end this. But I'm afraid you won't make it to your card game."
Reese could be persuasive when she wanted. But since his coronation, Alistair had proven the better politician. Which, until her command of Vigil's Keep, had left Reese to bash heads first and ask questions later as she preferred. But she had learned something of intrigue at the Vigil. She could play this game for a while.
"Five Grey Wardens stand between you and freedom. Whatever you've been promised in exchange for the king, you will never see it."
"Andraste's tits," he swore, "I take it back. You're a bigger, preening bore than your father was. Don't mistake this conversation for a negotiation, lady. It's charity. I'm giving you the chance to save your men in exchange for some information, and still you think only of yourself. I was a fool to expect anything more from a jumped-up whore of a noble. My allies outnumber yours four to one. I have you, and I'll have my answers, sooner or later. Last chance. Tell me about the Highever defenses, and when this is done with, I'll let your men go. Otherwise, we will kill them all."
"One craven criminal and a handful of slobbering darkspawn?" She laughed. "You must be joking."
"I have powerful friends, too."
So he's not working alone. But is he the general, or just a lackey? For a mercenary, he was damned clever. No one else had gotten this close to the King since she and Zevran had assumed his protection.
The Architect? He could have planned this. Flames, I should have killed him like I killed the Mother. I was a fool to trust a darkspawn, whatever his motivation. But he didn't send this man to kidnap the king and lure me here to find out about Highever…did he? Anyone between here and Amaranthine could have told him what Fergus has been doing.
And their captor was so certain they could not escape. Why?
The full meaning of his boast registered, and a cold uncertainty settled in her stomach. It had grown too quiet down the hall she had taken to this room. The huge source of taint? What was happening to her men out there? He was stalling, and the longer she waited to do something about it, the greater the risk that they would find themselves outnumbered.
She bounced on her toes and tested the balance of her sword. She couldn't quite place Feyl's position, but she could clear a five foot radius with one well-placed swing, and the time for words was about over.
At the moment, her need to answer this man's violence with some of her own was maddening.
"Let the King go, and then we can talk."
He laughed. "That's the best bone you've got? I thought you would be more creative. No, the King stays. Try again."
"Take me instead."
"Sadly, that is not yours to offer."
She felt the light brush of fabric against the back of her leg, and a blade at her throat.
"My gift was to be a matched set. Lay down your sword, lady."
* * *
Nathaniel nocked and drew his bow, and mentally counted bodies. A dozen genlocks and nearly as many hurlocks on the ground. They had done well, but to what end? What was coming down the tunnel was going to take everything they had left. At least.
And there was still no sign of the Commander.
"Come on, you filthy nug-humper!" Oghren paced eagerly in front of the tunnel entrance, peering into the silent darkness. Nathaniel held the doorway, the last defense, and about ten feet to his right, Anders was fingering a small vial.
They couldn't see it or hear it, but its presence was overwhelming. It was nearly on top of them.
Anders was getting more jittery by the second. "Nate, maybe we should follow the Commander."
"We hold the door. Those were our orders."
"If we're squashed to jelly, we won't bloody well be holding anything except our own entrails. I didn't escape a legion of templars just to die now, you stubborn git."
"If we don't hold this door, the Commander will likely be trapped down there, and us with her. And then you'll be dead anyway. Didn't they teach you any military strategy at the Circle?"
"I must have skipped those classes."
"You're joking.” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he loosed an arrow down the dark tunnel. “What have you got?"
The mage frowned, "I'm low, real low." Then, catching Nathaniel's look, he cocked a grin. "But don't worry, it should be enough to put your entrails back. Oghren and I might be out of luck, though."
Nathaniel nodded. There was nothing more to say. Either they were going to kill this thing, or they weren't. He wasn't always comfortable with the responsibilities that the Commander put on him, and what he'd done to earn that confidence was hard to say. But he trusted her. If there was a way out of this trap, she would find it, just like she always had before. He wouldn't betray that respect by committing any less than all he had to this rescue, and to his friends.
What he needed now was a backup plan, in case they couldn't hold this monstrosity off. He scanned the area. The cavern they were in now was large enough that the walls and ceiling were lost in darkness, the only light being a single torch at the doorway behind him, and Ander's spell wisp. Though they were close to the river, the air was fresher and dryer here than in the passages they had followed. That could mean there was a way out somewhere in the dark recesses, if only they had time to investigate.
"Anders, can you send that wisp higher?"
"Yeah…where do you want it?"
A distant roar answered him. They were running out of time. "Send it around the perimeter of the room, as high as you can get it. And quickly."
Anders lifted his staff, and the wisp rose up about five feet and made a slow passage around the room. The floor of the cavern was cleared and level, but the solid wall of rock surrounding them was decorated with long, rippling formations that stretched from ceiling to wall, inverted, slender columns and ledges with delicately balanced boulders. But no openings other than the passage that had lately spewed darkspawn at them. Any other ventilation must be hidden in deeper crevices, no use to them.
A shadow flickered in the tunnel entrance and a low, rumbling tremor passed through the rock, growing rapidly stronger and louder until a shower of small pebbles rained down on Nathaniel. Oghren let out a blood-curdling yell and took two steps toward the tunnel entrance. An ogre charged into the room at full tilt, knocking Oghren back enough to break his momentum. But not the ogre's. Nathaniel hit it with shaft after shaft with no effect. It jogged at Anders, ignoring the bolt of lightning that streaked from his staff, and grabbed him up in one clawed hand.
"Hey, keep your bloody hands to yourself!" The mage cracked the ogre on the head with his staff. In reply, the ogre tossed him like a child's broken plaything into the cavern wall beside Nathaniel. Anders hit with bone-crushing force and lay still at the base of the wall.
Oghren recovered his balance. "Rrrarrgh! Come to papa!" He swung his axe high overhead loading it with the full force of his rage. The ogre turned and a blast of cold erupted from its hands, freezing the dwarf in place midswing. Frost fell from the blade of his axe.
This is not good, Nathaniel thought, as the ogre swung its massive head towards him. He had one chance. He readjusted his draw and leveled his aim at the ogre's left eye. This would be it. His draw arm would be useless after this, but if it struck, there was a slim chance that it would be enough to put the ogre down. A very slim chance.
In the breath before his release, the ogre cocked its head and stared at him. It's broad chest shook with a meaty chuckle. "I've no quarrel with you, little man." It's voice was a deep growl like the thunder of an avalanche in the Frostbacks. "But step aside or be tossed aside, for I have an appointment with your Commander and the King." The ogre flexed its biceps and claws thoughtfully. "We must not keep them waiting."
Nathaniel relaxed his draw arm slightly, and pondered how to reply to this. Talking darkspawn and now this. An ogre mage. But was that all it was? His taint responded to that in the ogre, but it wasn't like any feeling he'd ever had before. It…pulsed…with a spastic, unstable beat that he couldn't focus on. The effect was extremely disorienting and he had to push his warden sense to the back of his mind to maintain his concentration.
Not so long ago, you saw a darkspawn, you killed it. It didn't matter whose side you were on. Darkspawn weren't what they used to be, thanks to the Architect.
Nate continued to hold his draw, uncertain how this was going to go, trying to buy time. "I'm sorry, but she's asked me to hold her appointments for the day. Can I give her a message?"
The ogre threw its head back, rocked its horns side-to-side, and peeled its fleshy lips back in a rictus full of evil-looking teeth. It pulled up a boulder and launched it in his direction. Nathaniel ducked to one side as it hit the cavern wall above him and exploded in a rain of stones. It was one of these glancing painfully off the side of his head that drew his attention to the dark heights above and what he had seen there in the pale, green glow of magelight.
The ogre's voice boomed. "A last chance, little man. Run now. Do not stand between me and what I desire."
Time for the back up plan. With his bow still drawn, Nathaniel glanced down at Anders and saw that the mage, blood trickling from beneath his toque, was awake and listening. Their eyes met, and Nathaniel was grateful that despite the fact that the mage was an insufferable, skirt-chasing outlaw from justice, he and Anders did sometimes think alike.
We need to get the hell out of here.
Anders gave a small nod, and Nathaniel made a quick switch and released an arrow which struck the ogre hard against his chest in a burst of smoke, blinding him for a few seconds.
At that precise moment, Anders shot up and dove for Oghren, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. Oghren was still thawing out. He squinted up at Anders. "Whaa--?"
Anders yelled, "I'll explain later!" and tossed him down the hallway, stumbling in behind him, with Nathaniel in pursuit.
"Anders, can you manage a fireball?"
"Yeah, I get where you're going with this. Stand back."
The ogre shook its head once then scanned the scene in front of it for its prey. As the smoke cleared, it made eye contact with them and roared as Anders hit the cavern floor in front of the doorway with a fireball. The explosion blew all three of them backwards down the hall. An avalanche of loose boulders crashed down in front of the entrance with a roar, spewing dust into the air.
Beyond the blocked door, the ogre erupted in frustration. It began to beat on the rubble. They could hear scrabbling followed by little explosions. It was clearing the boulders one at a time.
Nathaniel cursed and coughed, waving away the dust. "This is not good. We need to find the Commander. Now."
* * *
This is not good, Reese thought. Feyl had her arms pinned and a knife that smelled of spider venom at her throat. A mage didn't learn to move like that in the Circle. She only knew a few assassins skilled enough to cross a room that silently. And Zevran was on her side. If she could only figure out what it meant.
Reese struggled against him, testing his grip. But he simply held her tighter. In truth, she would have risked the knife to try and throw him off, but Alistair was in no condition to take on Feyl if she went down. Struggling to stay upright, Alistair feigned disinterest in the threat to her, but he was unconvincing, and so gave Feyl that much more leverage against them. Still, if they weren't in such dire straights, she would have found his fear for her endearing. He usually just accepted that she was the indomitable force on the battle field and worried more about everyone else.
So it was a waiting game that would have to play out, for the moment at least. As far as Feyl was concerned, they were at his mercy.
Alistair staggered a step towards her and squinted at Feyl behind her. "A mercenary." He made the word into a curse. "I suppose that makes sense. Decapitate the Ferelden Wardens and the Ferelden throne in one blow. A lot of people would pay handsomely for that." He started to step forward again, but grimaced in pain instead. "Which…which one hired you?"
Feyl's grip on her arm tightened. "You think this is about politics?" He sounded angry. "I should have known. What would someone like you know of want or hopelessness? I suppose it is about politics, if you want to look at it that way. Ultimately it's about those who have making way for those who have not."
"And which are you?" Reese asked.
Feyl said nothing at first. Then he replied reluctantly, "Maybe a bit of both. But I know which side I stand on now. The right side. And as soon as my partner's finished with your friends back there," Feyl tossed his head in the direction of the other Wardens, "having delivered on my part of our bargain, she'll deliver on hers." He spoke softly then, as if to himself. "That's all I care about."
So time was running out for the others, and Reese didn't think they would get any more out of Feyl. Not that the conversation had made his motives any clearer. There were mercenary elements to this, yet most mercenaries didn't worry too much about principles or the plight of the less fortunate. And, as a rule, they had less disdain for a noble's coin.
Reese made her decision and sketched a small, quick motion with her left hand. There was a breath of air, followed by the purring of Zevran's voice.
"Ah, my brother, much as it pains me to disappoint you, I must end your fun prematurely."
Reese felt Feyl's knife arm relax and pull slowly and deliberately away. Zevran stood behind him with one arm around his neck and a dagger pressing up into his kidney. It had been her idea to have Zev follow her silently through the entire lair and unstealth at her signal. The assassin had proudly approved of her Crow-like thinking.
"Oh, thank the Maker," Alistair said, as he collapsed against the wall for support. "You could have warned me."
Reese grabbed her sword from the floor. "Would you sit down before you fall down? And when exactly was I supposed to tell you? While Feyl was listening from the shadows? Or while I was having the air crushed from my body?"
She turned to face their captor. He wasn't as small as she had thought at first. He was simply a bit short for a man, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and lean. He had a square jaw and a scar along his left cheekbone that gave him a rugged appearance. All of which made his age impossible to guess.
He was scowling at her. "So I'm outplayed."
"I've learned something from Zev after all this time." She checked with Zevran. "Do you have him?"
Zevran dug the dagger in deeper and Feyl winced. "Oh, yes, my dear Warden, I have him."
Reese turned back to Alistair, who was still stubbornly standing behind her. She sighed and pushed him gently back towards the chair. He grabbed her hand on his chest and tried to shake her off. "I'm alright."
She raised an eyebrow. "You'd better be," she said drily. "Because I gather that what's waiting for us down that hallway is bad."
That gave Alistair pause. Finally, he rolled his eyes at her and sat down. "Why do you always have to be so practical? And right."
Reese stepped back to Feyl. He didn't flinch from her scrutiny. He seemed to revel in it, one corner of his mouth turned up with a smirk that begged to be wiped off. Reese didn't hesitate to oblige. She clocked him squarely on the jaw, throwing his head to to one side so that his dark hair fell over his eyes. She hit him hard enough to draw blood. "I owe you that and much more for Alistair. And so we're clear," she said, "this isn't a negotiation either. It's charity. Tell me who sent you and I'll take off my gauntlet before I hit you again. Was it Celene?"
Feyl worked his jaw back and forth, fingering it in appraisal, then to her surprise, burst out laughing. "Of course. Brilliant. Let's wait and see if the Orlesian Empress arrives with a legion of chevaliers to apprehend the two of you." The mocking smile returned and his voice dropped low. "I don't mind waiting."
"Tsk-tsk. Such a saucy scoundrel," Zeveran said. "Commander, I think that our friend has outlived his usefulness. We'll soon meet this mystery lady, and perhaps she will thank us for ridding her of a second-rate assassin. Though," he sighed dramatically, "I am not unaware of the irony in that suggestion."
Reese hesitated. Feyl's confidence that her companions were out of the picture disturbed her. He must realize that they were Grey Wardens as well, and yet he remained unperturbed, cocky even in his belief that reprieve was on the way. All of these people were in her care, and she couldn't bear to lose any more of her wardens. Any more of her family. It was this more than anything else about their situation that decided her.
"We've got to find out what's happened to the others. Zev, put him out for n--"
A rumbling explosion knocked her off-balance and sent her scrambling to shield herself from falling debris. When the air cleared, Zevran was picking himself up from the ground, and there was no sign of Feyl.
"Ahh…shit! Where's Feyl?" she yelled in frustration as she crouched defensively and scanned the room for any sign of their would-be kidnapper. There was nothing. If he had made any noise, she would have missed it in the explosion and falling stones.
Then she saw Alistair on the floor next to the chair, unmoving. She rushed to his side, frantic. He was breathing, but out cold with a fresh gash on his head. He's really having a bad day, Reese thought.
At that moment, Anders skidded into the room breathlessly. He'd lost his toque, and dirt and blood covered his face. "There you are!" He suddenly noticed the rubble, the unconscious, bleeding Alistair, and Zevran staggering up from the floor. "Uh, sorry, the explosion," he shrugged, "I did that."
"Anders," Reese said, relieved, "thank the Maker! Where's--?"
Nathaniel walked into the room dragging Oghren by the scruff of his neck as the unruly dwarf dragged his heels and swung at empty air behind him.
"Ah, come on ya sissies! We coulda taken it. We coulda!"
"Oghren, you weren't going to take anything," Nate countered. "Except maybe a cold. The Commander left me in charge, and I didn't think sticking around would be a good-"
"- idea," the mage chimed in. "Let's toss the dwarf to it and buy some time to es-"
Reese watched, stunned, as the three fell to squabbling like nattering geese. It was utter chaos. She ran a dirty, sweaty hand through her hair. What had gotten into them? Whatever they'd faced out there must have shaken them badly. At least Alistair was out cold, or he'd demote her and send her to round up bandits in Lothering. Alone. She glanced at Zevran, who was pretending to study the wall diplomatically. She needed to rein them in before this got out of hand.
"Anders!" Reese barked, and all three jumped as if they had forgotten she was there.
"Uh, Commander?"
Now that she had their attention, she lowered her voice. "Please help the King." His eyes widened as if he just realized who he'd knocked to the ground. "He's wounded badly, and we've got to get him out of here. Oghren!"
The dwarf yelped.
"Watch the door. There's an assassin on the loose and we need him."
"Oh, heh…he's not going…" Reese glared at him and he stopped mid-sentence and walked to the doorway.
As the other two moved off, Reese turned to her second-in-command. "Nate. You have no idea how glad I am to see the three of you. What the hell happened out there?"
Nathaniel shouldered his bow and shook his head. "I don't know. We were holding our own. The hurlocks weren't a problem. But what came after…I can't say what it was. It looked like an ogre, but it taunted us and asked for you by name. Then it knocked Anders halfway to Amaranthine and froze Oghren solid. He didn't thaw out until Anders blew up the entrance to the hallway."
The dwarf's beard was still a bit frosty. He stood in the doorway wringing it out.
"And Commander. I don't know how long the cave-in will hold it. It was already hauling boulders away when we came to find you."
"That's the only exit out of here."
"Ah, I think that I can help with that," Zevran said from darkness across the room. "Can someone bring that torch over here?" He was kneeling beside a bare wall running his hand over the dark base of it where the stones were lost in shadow. "Unless I am mistaken, and," he chuckled, "I never am, there is a concealed door here." He looked up at the tall archer behind him. "What do you think, Nathaniel?"
Nate squinted at the wall, then leaned over to inspect the area that Zevran was fingering. "Yes, I believe you're right. But where's the switch that opens it?" The two headed off in opposite directions, each searching the wall with their hands splayed and crawling like a pair of spiders.
Oghren muttered darkly to himself and paced restlessly in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder as he fingered the blade of his axe.
It seemed there was nothing to be done but wait, and hope that two resourceful thieves would deliver them from this trap, because she had nothing else to play. Zevran had been her one trump card, and though he had successfully won the hand, it looked as though they might lose the game anyway. Reese itched for some physical enemy she could pound away her frustration on. Instead, feeling helpless, she sat on her heels beside Alistair and tried to make him more comfortable. She placed a small, folded blanket from her pack under his head and wiped the blood gently from his face. Then she took his hand and waited. Anders chanted softly above her.
The sounds of the others searching continued, and from the doorway, Oghren growled, "It's too quiet down there. I'm going to check it out." He looked for Reese's nod before trotting back down the corridor.
Reese returned to her anxious vigil. She and Alistair had not seen each other in three months, and this wasn't the reunion she'd imagined, one of them unconscious, half-naked and bleeding on the ground, and the other helplessly awaiting a gruesome end for the both of them. She was a Grey Warden and the Queen of Ferelden. She had no illusions of a peaceful, domestic life, not that she had ever wanted that anyway. Still, would their short lives always be filled with tragedy and death and long, lonely separations?
Anders nodded wearily above her. "That's the best I can do for now. I hope it's enough." He sat down heavily on the floor next to her. "Now that's done, whose going to heal the mage?"
Alistair stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and slowly focused on her. "Would you tell them not to do that?"
* * *
Oghren stood at the last turning in the passage where he could see the ogre still dismantling their barricade, aided now by a fresh contingent of darkspawn. He could hear the beast bellowing angrily, its ugly companions egging it on, and by the stone, he knew what he wanted to do about it. That thing was trouble, and trouble it would remain until someone killed it. No one else had the nuggets, so it was going to be them, and if they didn't kill it now, they'd be killing it later. That was simple, Stone logic. The fact that it had nearly killed him moments ago didn't bother him at all. It just made him madder than hell.
But something told him the Commander wouldn't like him charging off on his own. Wynne called that nagging little voice his "conscience", and back in the day, he would have beaten it senseless with a few dozen flagons of Oghren's homebrew, and do what needed to be done. Felsi and the baby had changed all that, taught him that sometimes you didn't get to do what you wanted, and it would turn out for the best anyway.
He was a Grey Warden now. The Commander owned his arse, and that was fine by him. That woman had great big nuggets of steel, she got the job done and took care of her own. He respected her for that. But he knew better than to piss her off, especially when she was sober.
Oghren growled in frustration. If he couldn't kill the ogre, he needed to kill something else. He usually didn't pay much attention to the other nagging little voices in his head, those whispering darkspawn that troubled his dreams. He didn't need the taint to point the way. If he saw a darkspawn, he killed it, and if he couldn't see it, then it wasn't close enough to kill yet. He left the hunting to the Howe and the Commander.
But he was desperate, so he listened to the sodding voices, back to the end of the passage and to the right. There was another doorway that they had missed in their haste to find the Commander. The door was slightly ajar, and a weak light poured through the narrow opening. He could hear shuffling noises and voices, lisping darkspawn voices, speaking the King's tongue. That sound stood his neck hairs on end.
"Hit it harder! One does not have long before the dark one returns," said a high-pitched voice. "He will want it for himself…"
It was interrupted by an angry grunt, and a slap. "Foolish! This is a thing of magic. To abuse it with force will not do. It could destroy us, or one could ruin it, and all will be for naught. Where is the overseer? Perhaps a mage will know the way."
A third voice, deeper, joined the debate. "This one is not afraid. Give it over, and this one will make a way."
Outside the door, Oghren hefted his axe and grinned with savage relief. Three was a good number.
Already thoroughly worked-up, he charged into the room, yelling and swinging his axe with abandon. He caught them entirely off their guard: two small genlocks in light armor and one brutish hurlock wearing a twisted mockery of Templar armor. The sight of the raging dwarf drove the genlocks back, but the hurlock met him halfway.
"Stop yer yabberin' and bring it on," he taunted, dodging the swing aimed at his chest, and catching the big alpha at his knees. He lost track of the genlocks, but relished the time to focus on dismembering the hurlock one limb at time.
The genlocks stepped from the shadows and flanked him. It would have been a nice trick, but they had waited too long. Now the hurlock was down, and Oghren was ready for them. The first one fell squealing like a stuck nug. Though it didn't squeal for long. The other, seeing the headless body of his partner hit the floor at his feet, turned tail and ran. Oghren sighed, disappointed, and caught him in the back as he fled.
Oghren planted a boot in the back of the genlock and yanked on his axe, wiggling it back and forth until it broke loose. As he waited for the angry red haze in his mind to clear, he checked the axe over for damage, then cleaned the bloody edge on the carpet. That's when he noticed for the first time the richness of the room around him. A well-turned table of some dark, exotic wood was centered on a plush, woven carpet of royal purple shot through with gold tracery. Tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes lined the walls.
Darkspawn don't read, he thought.
He nudged a genlock corpse with one boot and noticed a small, carved box underneath the body. It pulsed faintly with a pale red glow that seemed to grow fainter even as the genlock's blood poured out on the carpet. Magic indeed. Anders might be interested in that little trinket. He picked it up.
Instantly, the light flared out brighter than before, now a shimmering gold, illuminating a silver gryphon inlaid on the lid. A hinged lock on the front clicked open. The light came from a transparent orb nestled in a shallow cavity inside, and it was humming softly, almost purring to itself. As Oghren reached for it, the humming intensified and he felt the hairs on his arm standing up, as though he were standing in the midst of a lightning storm. It was enough to make him reconsider. Better let fancy pants Anders take a look first. He closed the box and put it in his pack.
He knew he'd been gone long enough already, but he spared a moment to investigate the room in case there was anything more of value. He turned up nothing. It puzzled him that darkspawn would trouble with beauty and comfort as there was in this room. It didn't add up. Maybe the Commander would know what to make of it.
* * *
For long minutes, there was nothing but the steady crashing and bellowing of the ogre, and the methodical searching of the two rogues now making a second pass around the room, prying loose stones, poking in gaps with daggers. The tension was enough to set Reese's teeth on edge.
Alistair was out cold again, but his color had improved and he was breathing easier. And he was alive.
She caught Anders watching them with a curious expression on his face. His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he sat on the floor. He sported a nasty bump on his forehead and his jaunty feathered pauldrons drooped in their dusty coating. He looked as though he might drift off at any second. He nodded toward Alistair. "That's the old ball and chain, huh?"
Reese gave him a small smile. Always the charmer, that one. "Yes, though he usually strikes a more regal figure than this." She brushed the red-gold hair from Alistair's forehead tenderly.
The mage wrinkled his nose in mild distaste. "He has really big muscles."
She laughed. She never knew what to expect from him, but that certainly wasn't it. "Yes, yes he does." Gratitude for the mage overwhelmed her, and she grabbed his hand. "Anders, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You didn't deserve that. Thank you. That's not enough, but…just…thank you for helping him. For helping me."
The mage tensed. He stared at her hand holding his like it was some strange, beautiful insect that might poison him. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gently squeezed her hand in return. "Well, we're family."
Reese realized with a twinge of remorse that he was more accustomed to a beating from the templars than a friendly hug. Alistair told her so many fond stories of closeness among the wardens, before Ostagar. Maybe the new Ferelden wardens could change that for Anders.
Oghren trotted back into the room and saved the two of them any more awkwardness. Strangely, he looked much less grumpy.
"Better get movin' soon or that ogre'll squash us like worthless flies on a nug's arse," he said cheerfully.
At that moment, Zevran, digging zealously in a crevice, pried off a stone and revealed a recess in the wall. "Aha!" He reached in and a narrow stone door swung quitely open at his right arm. It was barely wider than the breadth of Reese's plate mail. Zevran slipped through it easily and disappeared into the darkness. For the rest of them, it would be a tight squeeze.
She reached down and gently shook Alistair's shoulder. "Alistair, we have to move. Can you stand?"
He groaned, sat up, woozy, and blinked at her with unfocused eyes a few times. "You're kidding, right?" But he made a move to stand.
There was a loud crash, then the distant sound of boots pounding on stone.
Reese turned to Anders. "We need to move him now." They got under Alistair's shoulders and lifted him to a standing position. Zevran popped his head out of the doorway. "Warden, there's a tunnel here. It's dark, but clear as far as I went."
Suddenly, a swarthy, vile-smelling genlock materialized in the room, with his daggers drawn, and lunged for Reese. Holding Alistair, she was unable to defend herself. She tried to dodge, nearly toppling Anders and Alistair in the process. But the rogue found a gap in her armor and a blade opened the muscle along her flank. She cried out in pain and stumbled.
The genlock drew back triumphantly for another strike. And fell over dead with an arrow through his right eye and an axe in the back of his head.
Anders shifted Alistair to his left shoulder and reached for Reese, but she pushed him off. "I'm alright. We've got to go."
They charged into the darkness, Anders lighting the way with his magelight, and Zevran and Nathaniel scanning the walls and ground for traps. Oghren pulled the door shut behind them just before more darkspawn ran into the room they'd left behind. They could hear the booming approach of the ogre through the wall. It drove them along as quickly as caution would allow, with Alistair sometimes stumbling along in front of Reese, and sometimes carried like a gunny sack, only half conscious, between her and Anders. Thank the Maker he doesn't have his armor on, Reese thought.
The pain in her side was excruciating, and twice Anders had to stop for her to catch her breath. Alistair had passed out again and they were carrying him along the tunnel.
"Do you want me to-" Anders offered.
"No," Reese snapped. "Save it for the King. Just give me a second."
"Alright, keep your knickers on," the mage retorted, then complained under his breath, "I don't think I've ever met a woman so damned stubborn."
They were both surprised to hear Alistair laugh weakly. "You don't know the half of it." He squirmed out of Reese's grasp and coughed. "Now put me down, I think I can walk."
Far behind them, they could hear the ogre roar in frustration, and the squeals of darkspawn presumably trying to flee the enraged monster. Occassionally a squeal was punctuated by the distinct thunk of something hitting the stone wall. The terrified cries, the depth of the darkness, the still air, Oghren breathing down her neck from behind. It was stifling. Finally, she turned to Oghren and hissed, "Back off-"
She broke off in surprise. "Oghren, you're glowing."
The dwarf inspected his outstretched arms, confused. "Huh?"
"It's coming from…"
"Oh, yeah!" he replied, and began patting his pockets. "I ran into a few nug-humpers back there arguing over a glowing trinket." He chuckled. "I settled their argument for them. Ha!" He started to rifle through his pockets. "It's in here somewhere…"
She grabbed his hand to stop him. "We don't have time for that. I only hope it isn't dangerous."
Oghren stopped smiling. "Do you think it could be?"
"Oh, come on."
They hurried on. The roar of the ogre grew fainter and finally died away as they fled deeper and deeper into the stone. Hopefully, it was wasting time searching for them in the caverns. Hopefully, this tunnel was leading them out and not into another trap. That's a lot to hope for, Reese thought, as she glanced anxiously behind them.
They came to a split in the tunnel. The two rogues stopped dead in their tracks.
"Well, well. This does complicate things," Zevran observed wryly.
Nathaniel and Zevran then commenced a prolonged debate about their path that seemed to hinge on the ambient air pressure and the inclination of the floor. The rest of them waited, straining to hear any sound of pursuit behind them.
At last, the two agreed on the right passage.
Anders glaced down the passage and raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure this is the way?" he asked skeptically.
Nathaniel glanced at Zevran uncomfortably, and the elf shrugged. "The right passage is wider."
The mage groaned. "You're joking, right?"
At the back of the pack, Oghren took a swig from his drinking horn and let out a belch. "What's wrong, magey? Feeling a little caged? Heh, heh."
A tiny bolt of lightning shot past Reese, and Oghren cried out, "Ow!"
Finally, after what felt like hours hours wandering in the dark, Reese noticed that she could recognize Alistair's features instead of only his outline, and within moments, Zevran called out, "I can see a light ahead!"
Relief swept over her. She wanted out of this tunnel desperately, but it would be foolish to run unprotected into Maker knows what waiting for them. "Hold up. Nate, check the exit." The rogue vanished into the darkness ahead, and it wasn't long before they saw his silhouette in the doorway.
He waved to them. "It's clear."
The six of them staggered out into a grassy meadow embraced by two rocky outcrops that extended like arms from the hill behind them. The sun was low on the other side of the hill, but they had been so long in the dark that they were blinded by the weak sunlight, blinking and gasping for fresh air. Reese and Anders helped Alistair to the shade of a leafy elm, propped him against the trunk of the tree, and gave him a water skin. He drank greedily, drenching himself in his haste.
Anders set his pack on the ground and reached for bandages. Alistair protested immediately. "I'm fine. It can wait until we make camp."
Reese rolled her eyes at Anders. "Who's the stubborn one now?" Then she winced in pain and sat down heavily next to Alistair.
Anders gritted his teeth and pointed angrily down at them. "Not two of you. I won't deal with this pig-headedness, not from her, not from you. I don't care if you are the King and Queen. We can't afford to have the two of you slowing us down." He glanced angrily over one shoulder. "Anyone else who needs healing had better be sitting here in front of me by the time I finish with the king, or so help me…"
No one dared protest after that, but when Anders reached for her and closed his eyes, Reese stopped him. The mage was swaying where he stood. "Anders, just bandage me for now. We don't need you collapsing on us." For once, he didn't argue.
Anders gingerly wrapped a bandage around her torso while Reese watched Nathaniel inspect the ground by the hillside, then hurry along the southern outcropping with his eyes glued to the ground. By the time she had slipped back into her armor and prepared Alistair to move on, Nathaniel had returned looking worried.
"Commander, there's a fair-sized force of darkspawn not far beyond the northern outcrop. From what I could see, they are not on the alert, but that may not last. They're spread out. We'll have to go a long way around.
"Did you pick up Feyl's trail?"
Nathaniel nodded. "The assassin went south. I lost his trail just on the other side of those rocks."
"South? Not towards the other darkspawn?"
"Not unless he doubled back somewhere."
Reese cursed under her breath. "None of this makes any sense to me. Alright, we move. And let's hope we can make it to shelter before that ogre gets out of the caverns."
Chapter 3 to come.
Author:kadens
Artist: Anna (in production) with banner and mix by sagacious_rage
Beta: Amanda
Canon: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening
Ratings: PG
Warnings: Violence, adult situations
Chapter 2
It was almost too dark to see more than the one darkspawn in front of her, but Reese didn't have to see them to know they were there. She sensed three genlocks in the shadows to her right.
Oghren drove home his two-handed death blow with a mighty yell, tossed the dead hurlock off his axe, and wiped a bloody hand on his beard.
"Filthy, sodding bleeders," he growled, then honed in on the unwary genlocks and disappeared in that direction, yelling wildly and swinging his axe in a wide arc. Reese ticked off the genlocks in her mind.
That only left two hurlock alphas to the left, about a dozen more hurlocks coming down the tunnel behind those…and something else. Its powerful taint flickered in her awareness like a candle flame in a brisk breeze, as if it were either spread out or fast, or both.
Great. A potent breed of darkspawn they hadn't encountered before. What else could go wrong on this rescue mission? They didn't have much time. They were holding their own for now, but they were going to be getting tired soon. And they still had to find a way out. If Alistair was down here, she had to find him now.
If he's still alive. Maker, please let him be alive.
She lowered her left shoulder and rammed the alpha in front of her with her shield, knocking him off-balance. He staggered backward a step and had a single breath to grunt in surprise before Reese took his head off with her sword on the follow-through. Her momentum carried her around and she landed facing the exit they'd been heading for. A massive iron-hinged door opened on a wide corridor that disappeared into darkness, only the sound of their battle echoing back at her. She had a bad feeling about that hallway. It was too defensible; if it led to a dead end, they could easily be trapped there. But in that direction, she could sense two pockets of taint. One was definitely a small group of darkspawn. The familiar texture of the other made her heart skip a beat.
She looked around. Anders was hexing everything that came through the tunnel entrance as Nathaniel fired off shot after shot at weakened enemies. Oghren was finishing off the last genlock.
"Nate!" she called to the tall, dark archer.
Ten feet away, he loosed an arrow and turned to meet her gaze. "Commander."
"Nothing gets through this doorway until I get back. Nothing."
"Yes, Commander." His eyes lost focus for a moment before fixing back on her. "We'll hold the door, but hurry."
She tore off down the dark hallway, following the taint, and praying to the Maker that the king was still in one piece.
The hall took a hard left after about twenty feet and turned into a secondary hall. This one was lit with a few sputtering torches and opened into a wide room.
Left. He's in the room to the left. There were a handful of tainted creatures in a room to the right, but the door was closed and she had no time to deal with them, only to hope that they hadn't heard her approach or the sounds of the battle behind her.
She gripped her sword tightly and stepped quietly towards the open doorway. Sweat ran down her back between her shoulder blades, and her hands trembled slightly. It was a fear more powerful than any she'd felt facing the Archdemon. She was afraid that what she found when she crossed that threshold would steal her hope and her only real reason for living.
No time for fear, pup. You already know what you're going to do. Your enemy doesn't. It was what her father said to her before her first battle. She could still see the steadfast confidence in his grey eyes as he held her shoulders and gave her those words. She had been trembling, growing more agitated, and losing her focus. His words had slammed a lid on all of that.
She needed his wisdom now. She pushed her focus outward, into the calm of the moment and away from the emotions roiling inside. It helped. The others would expect her to keep it together. They would need her to get them out of here, with Alistair, or with his body. Maker knows how they would manage that, but she wouldn’t leave him here with the darkspawn. She held her breath as she pressed against the doorway and eased one muscle at a time into the room.
It was empty, except for a single sputtering torch and Alistair tied to a chair under it. His head was thrown back against the top of the chair, eyes closed. He was naked to the waist - no armor, no weapons - and barefoot, a large, oozing gash across his chest. His left eye was grotesquely swollen and dried blood caked the corners of his mouth.
She took two quick steps into the room before the fear grabbed hold of her fully and her legs went weak. “Alistair…,” she whispered.
His one good eye blinked open slowly. He raised his head, squinted into the darkness where she stood, and gave her a wan smile. "Hey, beautiful. Have we met before?"
Reese nearly fainted with relief. He'd had worse beatings, but bruised and bleeding without his armor or his sword, he had never looked more vulnerable. She wanted to throw a blanket around him, build a fire, something. Still, any other man left to rot like this would have looked defeated. He just looked…unbreakable.
She stepped closer, into the light. "You look like hell."
His smile wavered. His eyes searched her face and he replied in a choked, dry voice, like a starving man offered a scrap of bread, "You've never looked better. The taint, I felt you…"
Reese dropped to the ground at his feet and sliced the bindings on his ankles and wrists. "Maker, Alistair, who did this to you? Can you walk?" He shook the ropes free, and grabbed her face in his hands. She kissed him hard, then pressed her forehead to his and willed her strength to pass through that physical bond.
Alistair's hands fell to her shoulders and he tensed in her grasp. She pulled back and knew something was wrong. His mouth was drawn tight and his eyes flicked once to her left, the doorway. But all he said was, "I think my bruises have bruises, but I can manage."
So the trap was sprung. She glanced at her sword on the ground by his feet. Andraste's blood!
“ Let’s get you out of here. The others are on their way.” She knew it was a lie; Nathaniel wasn’t in the habit of disobeying orders. She leaned down to examine the bindings as a pretext to get her hand on the hilt and get a mental bead on the doorway. Then, in one motion, she leapt to her feet with her sword in hand and lunged.
There was a man in the doorway, with grey eyes. He took a single step and disappeared into the shadows, and that’s all she saw before the world collapsed in on her.
Damn, a mage. I hate it when they do that.
An invisible hand grabbed hold of her, squeezed the air out of her lungs, and darkness closed in around her like she was falling into a deep abyss. From very far away, she heard Alistair call out.
“ No!”
An electric sensation swept over her and pried off the crushing grip one finger at a time. She collapsed heaving on the floor. Between breaths, she saw Alistair grimace, stagger and fall to one knee beside her, trembling and sweat-soaked. How he'd summoned strength to free her from the spell, she couldn't guess. She pushed herself to her feet and shoved the king behind her, her sword raised level between them and the darkness. Alistair clutched at her shield arm for support.
In the distance, she could just hear the shouts of her Wardens and the faint ringing of metal on metal. But no sound gave away their attacker, not the scuff of feet nor the whisper of fabric.
It was a clever trap. Standing in the torchlight, she was all but blinded to movement in the shadows along the wall. Now the darkness itself was her enemy, the impenetrable corners a hiding place for a maleficar who could reappear anywhere. She bounced from foot to foot trying to defend every direction at once. She dared not leave Alistair unprotected for a moment; she was pinned down and that made her nervous. But the kidnapper wouldn't have lured her here only to kill Alistair now. Whoever he was, he wanted something from her.
She thought she sensed more movement in the shadows near the doorway. She tensed for a lunge in that direction, but a voice broke the silence.
"So you're Reese Cousland. I thought you'd look more like your father."
If he'd said that darkspawn make good nursemaids, she couldn't have been more surprised. How did he know her father? Was this someone she had met? She did not recognize the voice, and yet something about it was familiar. More importantly, he did not lisp or register as tainted. It was not a darkspawn, awakened or otherwise.
"Rendon Howe saw the resemblance. Step into the light and you will, too, coward."
"Coward is a nasty name. I prefer Feyl. You're a fine one to boast. Noble enough for royalty, but not too good to kill a man and beggar his family for revenge. That makes you no different from me. Well, except for the company you keep. I suppose you left poor brother Fergus to clean up the mess in Highever?"
He was still hiding in the darkness, but his voice gave him away. He was moving slowly to her left, circling the two of them like a wolf closing in on wounded prey.
"If Howe's downfall brought shame upon his family, that can be laid at his dead feet. And what my brother's doing in Highever is irrelevant. All that should matter to you and me is the price you'll pay for attacking the king. Who are you?"
"Do you expect a simple answer to that? Because there is none. None that you would like."
Behind her, Alistair coughed as he staggered to his feet. "Can we get on with this? I'm meeting Zev for a game of Diamondback tonight."
"Convince your mabari to stand down, Your Majesty, and we can end this. But I'm afraid you won't make it to your card game."
Reese could be persuasive when she wanted. But since his coronation, Alistair had proven the better politician. Which, until her command of Vigil's Keep, had left Reese to bash heads first and ask questions later as she preferred. But she had learned something of intrigue at the Vigil. She could play this game for a while.
"Five Grey Wardens stand between you and freedom. Whatever you've been promised in exchange for the king, you will never see it."
"Andraste's tits," he swore, "I take it back. You're a bigger, preening bore than your father was. Don't mistake this conversation for a negotiation, lady. It's charity. I'm giving you the chance to save your men in exchange for some information, and still you think only of yourself. I was a fool to expect anything more from a jumped-up whore of a noble. My allies outnumber yours four to one. I have you, and I'll have my answers, sooner or later. Last chance. Tell me about the Highever defenses, and when this is done with, I'll let your men go. Otherwise, we will kill them all."
"One craven criminal and a handful of slobbering darkspawn?" She laughed. "You must be joking."
"I have powerful friends, too."
So he's not working alone. But is he the general, or just a lackey? For a mercenary, he was damned clever. No one else had gotten this close to the King since she and Zevran had assumed his protection.
The Architect? He could have planned this. Flames, I should have killed him like I killed the Mother. I was a fool to trust a darkspawn, whatever his motivation. But he didn't send this man to kidnap the king and lure me here to find out about Highever…did he? Anyone between here and Amaranthine could have told him what Fergus has been doing.
And their captor was so certain they could not escape. Why?
The full meaning of his boast registered, and a cold uncertainty settled in her stomach. It had grown too quiet down the hall she had taken to this room. The huge source of taint? What was happening to her men out there? He was stalling, and the longer she waited to do something about it, the greater the risk that they would find themselves outnumbered.
She bounced on her toes and tested the balance of her sword. She couldn't quite place Feyl's position, but she could clear a five foot radius with one well-placed swing, and the time for words was about over.
At the moment, her need to answer this man's violence with some of her own was maddening.
"Let the King go, and then we can talk."
He laughed. "That's the best bone you've got? I thought you would be more creative. No, the King stays. Try again."
"Take me instead."
"Sadly, that is not yours to offer."
She felt the light brush of fabric against the back of her leg, and a blade at her throat.
"My gift was to be a matched set. Lay down your sword, lady."
* * *
Nathaniel nocked and drew his bow, and mentally counted bodies. A dozen genlocks and nearly as many hurlocks on the ground. They had done well, but to what end? What was coming down the tunnel was going to take everything they had left. At least.
And there was still no sign of the Commander.
"Come on, you filthy nug-humper!" Oghren paced eagerly in front of the tunnel entrance, peering into the silent darkness. Nathaniel held the doorway, the last defense, and about ten feet to his right, Anders was fingering a small vial.
They couldn't see it or hear it, but its presence was overwhelming. It was nearly on top of them.
Anders was getting more jittery by the second. "Nate, maybe we should follow the Commander."
"We hold the door. Those were our orders."
"If we're squashed to jelly, we won't bloody well be holding anything except our own entrails. I didn't escape a legion of templars just to die now, you stubborn git."
"If we don't hold this door, the Commander will likely be trapped down there, and us with her. And then you'll be dead anyway. Didn't they teach you any military strategy at the Circle?"
"I must have skipped those classes."
"You're joking.” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he loosed an arrow down the dark tunnel. “What have you got?"
The mage frowned, "I'm low, real low." Then, catching Nathaniel's look, he cocked a grin. "But don't worry, it should be enough to put your entrails back. Oghren and I might be out of luck, though."
Nathaniel nodded. There was nothing more to say. Either they were going to kill this thing, or they weren't. He wasn't always comfortable with the responsibilities that the Commander put on him, and what he'd done to earn that confidence was hard to say. But he trusted her. If there was a way out of this trap, she would find it, just like she always had before. He wouldn't betray that respect by committing any less than all he had to this rescue, and to his friends.
What he needed now was a backup plan, in case they couldn't hold this monstrosity off. He scanned the area. The cavern they were in now was large enough that the walls and ceiling were lost in darkness, the only light being a single torch at the doorway behind him, and Ander's spell wisp. Though they were close to the river, the air was fresher and dryer here than in the passages they had followed. That could mean there was a way out somewhere in the dark recesses, if only they had time to investigate.
"Anders, can you send that wisp higher?"
"Yeah…where do you want it?"
A distant roar answered him. They were running out of time. "Send it around the perimeter of the room, as high as you can get it. And quickly."
Anders lifted his staff, and the wisp rose up about five feet and made a slow passage around the room. The floor of the cavern was cleared and level, but the solid wall of rock surrounding them was decorated with long, rippling formations that stretched from ceiling to wall, inverted, slender columns and ledges with delicately balanced boulders. But no openings other than the passage that had lately spewed darkspawn at them. Any other ventilation must be hidden in deeper crevices, no use to them.
A shadow flickered in the tunnel entrance and a low, rumbling tremor passed through the rock, growing rapidly stronger and louder until a shower of small pebbles rained down on Nathaniel. Oghren let out a blood-curdling yell and took two steps toward the tunnel entrance. An ogre charged into the room at full tilt, knocking Oghren back enough to break his momentum. But not the ogre's. Nathaniel hit it with shaft after shaft with no effect. It jogged at Anders, ignoring the bolt of lightning that streaked from his staff, and grabbed him up in one clawed hand.
"Hey, keep your bloody hands to yourself!" The mage cracked the ogre on the head with his staff. In reply, the ogre tossed him like a child's broken plaything into the cavern wall beside Nathaniel. Anders hit with bone-crushing force and lay still at the base of the wall.
Oghren recovered his balance. "Rrrarrgh! Come to papa!" He swung his axe high overhead loading it with the full force of his rage. The ogre turned and a blast of cold erupted from its hands, freezing the dwarf in place midswing. Frost fell from the blade of his axe.
This is not good, Nathaniel thought, as the ogre swung its massive head towards him. He had one chance. He readjusted his draw and leveled his aim at the ogre's left eye. This would be it. His draw arm would be useless after this, but if it struck, there was a slim chance that it would be enough to put the ogre down. A very slim chance.
In the breath before his release, the ogre cocked its head and stared at him. It's broad chest shook with a meaty chuckle. "I've no quarrel with you, little man." It's voice was a deep growl like the thunder of an avalanche in the Frostbacks. "But step aside or be tossed aside, for I have an appointment with your Commander and the King." The ogre flexed its biceps and claws thoughtfully. "We must not keep them waiting."
Nathaniel relaxed his draw arm slightly, and pondered how to reply to this. Talking darkspawn and now this. An ogre mage. But was that all it was? His taint responded to that in the ogre, but it wasn't like any feeling he'd ever had before. It…pulsed…with a spastic, unstable beat that he couldn't focus on. The effect was extremely disorienting and he had to push his warden sense to the back of his mind to maintain his concentration.
Not so long ago, you saw a darkspawn, you killed it. It didn't matter whose side you were on. Darkspawn weren't what they used to be, thanks to the Architect.
Nate continued to hold his draw, uncertain how this was going to go, trying to buy time. "I'm sorry, but she's asked me to hold her appointments for the day. Can I give her a message?"
The ogre threw its head back, rocked its horns side-to-side, and peeled its fleshy lips back in a rictus full of evil-looking teeth. It pulled up a boulder and launched it in his direction. Nathaniel ducked to one side as it hit the cavern wall above him and exploded in a rain of stones. It was one of these glancing painfully off the side of his head that drew his attention to the dark heights above and what he had seen there in the pale, green glow of magelight.
The ogre's voice boomed. "A last chance, little man. Run now. Do not stand between me and what I desire."
Time for the back up plan. With his bow still drawn, Nathaniel glanced down at Anders and saw that the mage, blood trickling from beneath his toque, was awake and listening. Their eyes met, and Nathaniel was grateful that despite the fact that the mage was an insufferable, skirt-chasing outlaw from justice, he and Anders did sometimes think alike.
We need to get the hell out of here.
Anders gave a small nod, and Nathaniel made a quick switch and released an arrow which struck the ogre hard against his chest in a burst of smoke, blinding him for a few seconds.
At that precise moment, Anders shot up and dove for Oghren, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. Oghren was still thawing out. He squinted up at Anders. "Whaa--?"
Anders yelled, "I'll explain later!" and tossed him down the hallway, stumbling in behind him, with Nathaniel in pursuit.
"Anders, can you manage a fireball?"
"Yeah, I get where you're going with this. Stand back."
The ogre shook its head once then scanned the scene in front of it for its prey. As the smoke cleared, it made eye contact with them and roared as Anders hit the cavern floor in front of the doorway with a fireball. The explosion blew all three of them backwards down the hall. An avalanche of loose boulders crashed down in front of the entrance with a roar, spewing dust into the air.
Beyond the blocked door, the ogre erupted in frustration. It began to beat on the rubble. They could hear scrabbling followed by little explosions. It was clearing the boulders one at a time.
Nathaniel cursed and coughed, waving away the dust. "This is not good. We need to find the Commander. Now."
* * *
This is not good, Reese thought. Feyl had her arms pinned and a knife that smelled of spider venom at her throat. A mage didn't learn to move like that in the Circle. She only knew a few assassins skilled enough to cross a room that silently. And Zevran was on her side. If she could only figure out what it meant.
Reese struggled against him, testing his grip. But he simply held her tighter. In truth, she would have risked the knife to try and throw him off, but Alistair was in no condition to take on Feyl if she went down. Struggling to stay upright, Alistair feigned disinterest in the threat to her, but he was unconvincing, and so gave Feyl that much more leverage against them. Still, if they weren't in such dire straights, she would have found his fear for her endearing. He usually just accepted that she was the indomitable force on the battle field and worried more about everyone else.
So it was a waiting game that would have to play out, for the moment at least. As far as Feyl was concerned, they were at his mercy.
Alistair staggered a step towards her and squinted at Feyl behind her. "A mercenary." He made the word into a curse. "I suppose that makes sense. Decapitate the Ferelden Wardens and the Ferelden throne in one blow. A lot of people would pay handsomely for that." He started to step forward again, but grimaced in pain instead. "Which…which one hired you?"
Feyl's grip on her arm tightened. "You think this is about politics?" He sounded angry. "I should have known. What would someone like you know of want or hopelessness? I suppose it is about politics, if you want to look at it that way. Ultimately it's about those who have making way for those who have not."
"And which are you?" Reese asked.
Feyl said nothing at first. Then he replied reluctantly, "Maybe a bit of both. But I know which side I stand on now. The right side. And as soon as my partner's finished with your friends back there," Feyl tossed his head in the direction of the other Wardens, "having delivered on my part of our bargain, she'll deliver on hers." He spoke softly then, as if to himself. "That's all I care about."
So time was running out for the others, and Reese didn't think they would get any more out of Feyl. Not that the conversation had made his motives any clearer. There were mercenary elements to this, yet most mercenaries didn't worry too much about principles or the plight of the less fortunate. And, as a rule, they had less disdain for a noble's coin.
Reese made her decision and sketched a small, quick motion with her left hand. There was a breath of air, followed by the purring of Zevran's voice.
"Ah, my brother, much as it pains me to disappoint you, I must end your fun prematurely."
Reese felt Feyl's knife arm relax and pull slowly and deliberately away. Zevran stood behind him with one arm around his neck and a dagger pressing up into his kidney. It had been her idea to have Zev follow her silently through the entire lair and unstealth at her signal. The assassin had proudly approved of her Crow-like thinking.
"Oh, thank the Maker," Alistair said, as he collapsed against the wall for support. "You could have warned me."
Reese grabbed her sword from the floor. "Would you sit down before you fall down? And when exactly was I supposed to tell you? While Feyl was listening from the shadows? Or while I was having the air crushed from my body?"
She turned to face their captor. He wasn't as small as she had thought at first. He was simply a bit short for a man, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and lean. He had a square jaw and a scar along his left cheekbone that gave him a rugged appearance. All of which made his age impossible to guess.
He was scowling at her. "So I'm outplayed."
"I've learned something from Zev after all this time." She checked with Zevran. "Do you have him?"
Zevran dug the dagger in deeper and Feyl winced. "Oh, yes, my dear Warden, I have him."
Reese turned back to Alistair, who was still stubbornly standing behind her. She sighed and pushed him gently back towards the chair. He grabbed her hand on his chest and tried to shake her off. "I'm alright."
She raised an eyebrow. "You'd better be," she said drily. "Because I gather that what's waiting for us down that hallway is bad."
That gave Alistair pause. Finally, he rolled his eyes at her and sat down. "Why do you always have to be so practical? And right."
Reese stepped back to Feyl. He didn't flinch from her scrutiny. He seemed to revel in it, one corner of his mouth turned up with a smirk that begged to be wiped off. Reese didn't hesitate to oblige. She clocked him squarely on the jaw, throwing his head to to one side so that his dark hair fell over his eyes. She hit him hard enough to draw blood. "I owe you that and much more for Alistair. And so we're clear," she said, "this isn't a negotiation either. It's charity. Tell me who sent you and I'll take off my gauntlet before I hit you again. Was it Celene?"
Feyl worked his jaw back and forth, fingering it in appraisal, then to her surprise, burst out laughing. "Of course. Brilliant. Let's wait and see if the Orlesian Empress arrives with a legion of chevaliers to apprehend the two of you." The mocking smile returned and his voice dropped low. "I don't mind waiting."
"Tsk-tsk. Such a saucy scoundrel," Zeveran said. "Commander, I think that our friend has outlived his usefulness. We'll soon meet this mystery lady, and perhaps she will thank us for ridding her of a second-rate assassin. Though," he sighed dramatically, "I am not unaware of the irony in that suggestion."
Reese hesitated. Feyl's confidence that her companions were out of the picture disturbed her. He must realize that they were Grey Wardens as well, and yet he remained unperturbed, cocky even in his belief that reprieve was on the way. All of these people were in her care, and she couldn't bear to lose any more of her wardens. Any more of her family. It was this more than anything else about their situation that decided her.
"We've got to find out what's happened to the others. Zev, put him out for n--"
A rumbling explosion knocked her off-balance and sent her scrambling to shield herself from falling debris. When the air cleared, Zevran was picking himself up from the ground, and there was no sign of Feyl.
"Ahh…shit! Where's Feyl?" she yelled in frustration as she crouched defensively and scanned the room for any sign of their would-be kidnapper. There was nothing. If he had made any noise, she would have missed it in the explosion and falling stones.
Then she saw Alistair on the floor next to the chair, unmoving. She rushed to his side, frantic. He was breathing, but out cold with a fresh gash on his head. He's really having a bad day, Reese thought.
At that moment, Anders skidded into the room breathlessly. He'd lost his toque, and dirt and blood covered his face. "There you are!" He suddenly noticed the rubble, the unconscious, bleeding Alistair, and Zevran staggering up from the floor. "Uh, sorry, the explosion," he shrugged, "I did that."
"Anders," Reese said, relieved, "thank the Maker! Where's--?"
Nathaniel walked into the room dragging Oghren by the scruff of his neck as the unruly dwarf dragged his heels and swung at empty air behind him.
"Ah, come on ya sissies! We coulda taken it. We coulda!"
"Oghren, you weren't going to take anything," Nate countered. "Except maybe a cold. The Commander left me in charge, and I didn't think sticking around would be a good-"
"- idea," the mage chimed in. "Let's toss the dwarf to it and buy some time to es-"
Reese watched, stunned, as the three fell to squabbling like nattering geese. It was utter chaos. She ran a dirty, sweaty hand through her hair. What had gotten into them? Whatever they'd faced out there must have shaken them badly. At least Alistair was out cold, or he'd demote her and send her to round up bandits in Lothering. Alone. She glanced at Zevran, who was pretending to study the wall diplomatically. She needed to rein them in before this got out of hand.
"Anders!" Reese barked, and all three jumped as if they had forgotten she was there.
"Uh, Commander?"
Now that she had their attention, she lowered her voice. "Please help the King." His eyes widened as if he just realized who he'd knocked to the ground. "He's wounded badly, and we've got to get him out of here. Oghren!"
The dwarf yelped.
"Watch the door. There's an assassin on the loose and we need him."
"Oh, heh…he's not going…" Reese glared at him and he stopped mid-sentence and walked to the doorway.
As the other two moved off, Reese turned to her second-in-command. "Nate. You have no idea how glad I am to see the three of you. What the hell happened out there?"
Nathaniel shouldered his bow and shook his head. "I don't know. We were holding our own. The hurlocks weren't a problem. But what came after…I can't say what it was. It looked like an ogre, but it taunted us and asked for you by name. Then it knocked Anders halfway to Amaranthine and froze Oghren solid. He didn't thaw out until Anders blew up the entrance to the hallway."
The dwarf's beard was still a bit frosty. He stood in the doorway wringing it out.
"And Commander. I don't know how long the cave-in will hold it. It was already hauling boulders away when we came to find you."
"That's the only exit out of here."
"Ah, I think that I can help with that," Zevran said from darkness across the room. "Can someone bring that torch over here?" He was kneeling beside a bare wall running his hand over the dark base of it where the stones were lost in shadow. "Unless I am mistaken, and," he chuckled, "I never am, there is a concealed door here." He looked up at the tall archer behind him. "What do you think, Nathaniel?"
Nate squinted at the wall, then leaned over to inspect the area that Zevran was fingering. "Yes, I believe you're right. But where's the switch that opens it?" The two headed off in opposite directions, each searching the wall with their hands splayed and crawling like a pair of spiders.
Oghren muttered darkly to himself and paced restlessly in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder as he fingered the blade of his axe.
It seemed there was nothing to be done but wait, and hope that two resourceful thieves would deliver them from this trap, because she had nothing else to play. Zevran had been her one trump card, and though he had successfully won the hand, it looked as though they might lose the game anyway. Reese itched for some physical enemy she could pound away her frustration on. Instead, feeling helpless, she sat on her heels beside Alistair and tried to make him more comfortable. She placed a small, folded blanket from her pack under his head and wiped the blood gently from his face. Then she took his hand and waited. Anders chanted softly above her.
The sounds of the others searching continued, and from the doorway, Oghren growled, "It's too quiet down there. I'm going to check it out." He looked for Reese's nod before trotting back down the corridor.
Reese returned to her anxious vigil. She and Alistair had not seen each other in three months, and this wasn't the reunion she'd imagined, one of them unconscious, half-naked and bleeding on the ground, and the other helplessly awaiting a gruesome end for the both of them. She was a Grey Warden and the Queen of Ferelden. She had no illusions of a peaceful, domestic life, not that she had ever wanted that anyway. Still, would their short lives always be filled with tragedy and death and long, lonely separations?
Anders nodded wearily above her. "That's the best I can do for now. I hope it's enough." He sat down heavily on the floor next to her. "Now that's done, whose going to heal the mage?"
Alistair stirred. His eyes fluttered open, and slowly focused on her. "Would you tell them not to do that?"
* * *
Oghren stood at the last turning in the passage where he could see the ogre still dismantling their barricade, aided now by a fresh contingent of darkspawn. He could hear the beast bellowing angrily, its ugly companions egging it on, and by the stone, he knew what he wanted to do about it. That thing was trouble, and trouble it would remain until someone killed it. No one else had the nuggets, so it was going to be them, and if they didn't kill it now, they'd be killing it later. That was simple, Stone logic. The fact that it had nearly killed him moments ago didn't bother him at all. It just made him madder than hell.
But something told him the Commander wouldn't like him charging off on his own. Wynne called that nagging little voice his "conscience", and back in the day, he would have beaten it senseless with a few dozen flagons of Oghren's homebrew, and do what needed to be done. Felsi and the baby had changed all that, taught him that sometimes you didn't get to do what you wanted, and it would turn out for the best anyway.
He was a Grey Warden now. The Commander owned his arse, and that was fine by him. That woman had great big nuggets of steel, she got the job done and took care of her own. He respected her for that. But he knew better than to piss her off, especially when she was sober.
Oghren growled in frustration. If he couldn't kill the ogre, he needed to kill something else. He usually didn't pay much attention to the other nagging little voices in his head, those whispering darkspawn that troubled his dreams. He didn't need the taint to point the way. If he saw a darkspawn, he killed it, and if he couldn't see it, then it wasn't close enough to kill yet. He left the hunting to the Howe and the Commander.
But he was desperate, so he listened to the sodding voices, back to the end of the passage and to the right. There was another doorway that they had missed in their haste to find the Commander. The door was slightly ajar, and a weak light poured through the narrow opening. He could hear shuffling noises and voices, lisping darkspawn voices, speaking the King's tongue. That sound stood his neck hairs on end.
"Hit it harder! One does not have long before the dark one returns," said a high-pitched voice. "He will want it for himself…"
It was interrupted by an angry grunt, and a slap. "Foolish! This is a thing of magic. To abuse it with force will not do. It could destroy us, or one could ruin it, and all will be for naught. Where is the overseer? Perhaps a mage will know the way."
A third voice, deeper, joined the debate. "This one is not afraid. Give it over, and this one will make a way."
Outside the door, Oghren hefted his axe and grinned with savage relief. Three was a good number.
Already thoroughly worked-up, he charged into the room, yelling and swinging his axe with abandon. He caught them entirely off their guard: two small genlocks in light armor and one brutish hurlock wearing a twisted mockery of Templar armor. The sight of the raging dwarf drove the genlocks back, but the hurlock met him halfway.
"Stop yer yabberin' and bring it on," he taunted, dodging the swing aimed at his chest, and catching the big alpha at his knees. He lost track of the genlocks, but relished the time to focus on dismembering the hurlock one limb at time.
The genlocks stepped from the shadows and flanked him. It would have been a nice trick, but they had waited too long. Now the hurlock was down, and Oghren was ready for them. The first one fell squealing like a stuck nug. Though it didn't squeal for long. The other, seeing the headless body of his partner hit the floor at his feet, turned tail and ran. Oghren sighed, disappointed, and caught him in the back as he fled.
Oghren planted a boot in the back of the genlock and yanked on his axe, wiggling it back and forth until it broke loose. As he waited for the angry red haze in his mind to clear, he checked the axe over for damage, then cleaned the bloody edge on the carpet. That's when he noticed for the first time the richness of the room around him. A well-turned table of some dark, exotic wood was centered on a plush, woven carpet of royal purple shot through with gold tracery. Tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes lined the walls.
Darkspawn don't read, he thought.
He nudged a genlock corpse with one boot and noticed a small, carved box underneath the body. It pulsed faintly with a pale red glow that seemed to grow fainter even as the genlock's blood poured out on the carpet. Magic indeed. Anders might be interested in that little trinket. He picked it up.
Instantly, the light flared out brighter than before, now a shimmering gold, illuminating a silver gryphon inlaid on the lid. A hinged lock on the front clicked open. The light came from a transparent orb nestled in a shallow cavity inside, and it was humming softly, almost purring to itself. As Oghren reached for it, the humming intensified and he felt the hairs on his arm standing up, as though he were standing in the midst of a lightning storm. It was enough to make him reconsider. Better let fancy pants Anders take a look first. He closed the box and put it in his pack.
He knew he'd been gone long enough already, but he spared a moment to investigate the room in case there was anything more of value. He turned up nothing. It puzzled him that darkspawn would trouble with beauty and comfort as there was in this room. It didn't add up. Maybe the Commander would know what to make of it.
* * *
For long minutes, there was nothing but the steady crashing and bellowing of the ogre, and the methodical searching of the two rogues now making a second pass around the room, prying loose stones, poking in gaps with daggers. The tension was enough to set Reese's teeth on edge.
Alistair was out cold again, but his color had improved and he was breathing easier. And he was alive.
She caught Anders watching them with a curious expression on his face. His long legs were stretched out in front of him as he sat on the floor. He sported a nasty bump on his forehead and his jaunty feathered pauldrons drooped in their dusty coating. He looked as though he might drift off at any second. He nodded toward Alistair. "That's the old ball and chain, huh?"
Reese gave him a small smile. Always the charmer, that one. "Yes, though he usually strikes a more regal figure than this." She brushed the red-gold hair from Alistair's forehead tenderly.
The mage wrinkled his nose in mild distaste. "He has really big muscles."
She laughed. She never knew what to expect from him, but that certainly wasn't it. "Yes, yes he does." Gratitude for the mage overwhelmed her, and she grabbed his hand. "Anders, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. You didn't deserve that. Thank you. That's not enough, but…just…thank you for helping him. For helping me."
The mage tensed. He stared at her hand holding his like it was some strange, beautiful insect that might poison him. After a moment, he cleared his throat and gently squeezed her hand in return. "Well, we're family."
Reese realized with a twinge of remorse that he was more accustomed to a beating from the templars than a friendly hug. Alistair told her so many fond stories of closeness among the wardens, before Ostagar. Maybe the new Ferelden wardens could change that for Anders.
Oghren trotted back into the room and saved the two of them any more awkwardness. Strangely, he looked much less grumpy.
"Better get movin' soon or that ogre'll squash us like worthless flies on a nug's arse," he said cheerfully.
At that moment, Zevran, digging zealously in a crevice, pried off a stone and revealed a recess in the wall. "Aha!" He reached in and a narrow stone door swung quitely open at his right arm. It was barely wider than the breadth of Reese's plate mail. Zevran slipped through it easily and disappeared into the darkness. For the rest of them, it would be a tight squeeze.
She reached down and gently shook Alistair's shoulder. "Alistair, we have to move. Can you stand?"
He groaned, sat up, woozy, and blinked at her with unfocused eyes a few times. "You're kidding, right?" But he made a move to stand.
There was a loud crash, then the distant sound of boots pounding on stone.
Reese turned to Anders. "We need to move him now." They got under Alistair's shoulders and lifted him to a standing position. Zevran popped his head out of the doorway. "Warden, there's a tunnel here. It's dark, but clear as far as I went."
Suddenly, a swarthy, vile-smelling genlock materialized in the room, with his daggers drawn, and lunged for Reese. Holding Alistair, she was unable to defend herself. She tried to dodge, nearly toppling Anders and Alistair in the process. But the rogue found a gap in her armor and a blade opened the muscle along her flank. She cried out in pain and stumbled.
The genlock drew back triumphantly for another strike. And fell over dead with an arrow through his right eye and an axe in the back of his head.
Anders shifted Alistair to his left shoulder and reached for Reese, but she pushed him off. "I'm alright. We've got to go."
They charged into the darkness, Anders lighting the way with his magelight, and Zevran and Nathaniel scanning the walls and ground for traps. Oghren pulled the door shut behind them just before more darkspawn ran into the room they'd left behind. They could hear the booming approach of the ogre through the wall. It drove them along as quickly as caution would allow, with Alistair sometimes stumbling along in front of Reese, and sometimes carried like a gunny sack, only half conscious, between her and Anders. Thank the Maker he doesn't have his armor on, Reese thought.
The pain in her side was excruciating, and twice Anders had to stop for her to catch her breath. Alistair had passed out again and they were carrying him along the tunnel.
"Do you want me to-" Anders offered.
"No," Reese snapped. "Save it for the King. Just give me a second."
"Alright, keep your knickers on," the mage retorted, then complained under his breath, "I don't think I've ever met a woman so damned stubborn."
They were both surprised to hear Alistair laugh weakly. "You don't know the half of it." He squirmed out of Reese's grasp and coughed. "Now put me down, I think I can walk."
Far behind them, they could hear the ogre roar in frustration, and the squeals of darkspawn presumably trying to flee the enraged monster. Occassionally a squeal was punctuated by the distinct thunk of something hitting the stone wall. The terrified cries, the depth of the darkness, the still air, Oghren breathing down her neck from behind. It was stifling. Finally, she turned to Oghren and hissed, "Back off-"
She broke off in surprise. "Oghren, you're glowing."
The dwarf inspected his outstretched arms, confused. "Huh?"
"It's coming from…"
"Oh, yeah!" he replied, and began patting his pockets. "I ran into a few nug-humpers back there arguing over a glowing trinket." He chuckled. "I settled their argument for them. Ha!" He started to rifle through his pockets. "It's in here somewhere…"
She grabbed his hand to stop him. "We don't have time for that. I only hope it isn't dangerous."
Oghren stopped smiling. "Do you think it could be?"
"Oh, come on."
They hurried on. The roar of the ogre grew fainter and finally died away as they fled deeper and deeper into the stone. Hopefully, it was wasting time searching for them in the caverns. Hopefully, this tunnel was leading them out and not into another trap. That's a lot to hope for, Reese thought, as she glanced anxiously behind them.
They came to a split in the tunnel. The two rogues stopped dead in their tracks.
"Well, well. This does complicate things," Zevran observed wryly.
Nathaniel and Zevran then commenced a prolonged debate about their path that seemed to hinge on the ambient air pressure and the inclination of the floor. The rest of them waited, straining to hear any sound of pursuit behind them.
At last, the two agreed on the right passage.
Anders glaced down the passage and raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure this is the way?" he asked skeptically.
Nathaniel glanced at Zevran uncomfortably, and the elf shrugged. "The right passage is wider."
The mage groaned. "You're joking, right?"
At the back of the pack, Oghren took a swig from his drinking horn and let out a belch. "What's wrong, magey? Feeling a little caged? Heh, heh."
A tiny bolt of lightning shot past Reese, and Oghren cried out, "Ow!"
Finally, after what felt like hours hours wandering in the dark, Reese noticed that she could recognize Alistair's features instead of only his outline, and within moments, Zevran called out, "I can see a light ahead!"
Relief swept over her. She wanted out of this tunnel desperately, but it would be foolish to run unprotected into Maker knows what waiting for them. "Hold up. Nate, check the exit." The rogue vanished into the darkness ahead, and it wasn't long before they saw his silhouette in the doorway.
He waved to them. "It's clear."
The six of them staggered out into a grassy meadow embraced by two rocky outcrops that extended like arms from the hill behind them. The sun was low on the other side of the hill, but they had been so long in the dark that they were blinded by the weak sunlight, blinking and gasping for fresh air. Reese and Anders helped Alistair to the shade of a leafy elm, propped him against the trunk of the tree, and gave him a water skin. He drank greedily, drenching himself in his haste.
Anders set his pack on the ground and reached for bandages. Alistair protested immediately. "I'm fine. It can wait until we make camp."
Reese rolled her eyes at Anders. "Who's the stubborn one now?" Then she winced in pain and sat down heavily next to Alistair.
Anders gritted his teeth and pointed angrily down at them. "Not two of you. I won't deal with this pig-headedness, not from her, not from you. I don't care if you are the King and Queen. We can't afford to have the two of you slowing us down." He glanced angrily over one shoulder. "Anyone else who needs healing had better be sitting here in front of me by the time I finish with the king, or so help me…"
No one dared protest after that, but when Anders reached for her and closed his eyes, Reese stopped him. The mage was swaying where he stood. "Anders, just bandage me for now. We don't need you collapsing on us." For once, he didn't argue.
Anders gingerly wrapped a bandage around her torso while Reese watched Nathaniel inspect the ground by the hillside, then hurry along the southern outcropping with his eyes glued to the ground. By the time she had slipped back into her armor and prepared Alistair to move on, Nathaniel had returned looking worried.
"Commander, there's a fair-sized force of darkspawn not far beyond the northern outcrop. From what I could see, they are not on the alert, but that may not last. They're spread out. We'll have to go a long way around.
"Did you pick up Feyl's trail?"
Nathaniel nodded. "The assassin went south. I lost his trail just on the other side of those rocks."
"South? Not towards the other darkspawn?"
"Not unless he doubled back somewhere."
Reese cursed under her breath. "None of this makes any sense to me. Alright, we move. And let's hope we can make it to shelter before that ogre gets out of the caverns."
Chapter 3 to come.