The Death of Gavorn Thaig
Vartan Gavorn sharpened his blades. Around him were the last inhabitants of his family's thaig, three other old men, sixteen women and twenty nine children. The infants were in the back room, watched by his cousin Valdart and niece Werra.
The Darkspawn had stopped their banging on the big door several days ago. He thought it must have been days. Time had little meaning underground and less so since the thaig had been attacked. He supposed the enemy must have realized that all they needed to do was wait. The dwarven defenders had little water and less food. If the siege continued arithmetic would do their work for them, specifically, subtraction.
Odd noises had been issuing from the walls for weeks now, depriving them of rest and keeping their nerves constantly on edge. Those sounds had stopped as well. When had that happened? He shook his head wearily. It was so hard to think any more in the close smoky air of the old reception hall.
Several stones dropped from over head. Hergl and her sisters were still working on widening the air shaft then. Good. Vartan had little hope, but the prospect of getting a few of his kin from this trap strengthened his resolve. He would fight to the end to buy them time to flee if it came to that.
The rest of his hope came from the fact that one of his grandsons, Varteg, was in Orzammar when the thaig was attacked. Some part of the patriarch might yet survive this catastrophe. He did not allow himself to think that anything could have happened to the boy.
A larger stone fell and a voice called from above. She sounded almost cheerful. He strode to the shaft and called up "What is it, what have you found?"
He thought it was Yetta that called back "We're in a shaft, it slopes up!"
He glanced at one of the remaining lanterns. It was well worth the risk. "I'm sending up a lantern. See where the tunnel leads."
The older children stirred. Several moved nearer to the shaft. The ropes moved and the tied lantern began its ascent. Some loose rocks dropped from above as an exchange.
Vartan heard some whispers from above then a sharp noise and a small glow became visible above. It quickly dimmed, then vanished altogether as the women went to explore the passage.
He left the shaft and went to check on Valdart and Werra. Valdart was two years older than his own seventy six years. He wasn't of much use himself and Valdart was even more feeble than the difference in their years would suggest. Neither Valdart nor Werra would be of much use in a fight, not that he himself was much of a warrior anymore if it came to that. But the two could still serve as caretakers and sentries.
He put his face close to Valdart's ear and said in a low voice "The girls may have found a way out for the young people. I will be staying behind."
"I will as well" said his older cousin.
"So will I" said Werra. "I can not travel with only one leg."
"If the others leave, that doesn't change the plan. We will buy time for them."
"They won't be taking the babies?" Asked Werra, worriedly.
"That would only slow them down. Our only hope is that they move swiftly and bring back help. Just remember, none of us will be taken prisoner. None of us."
He could feel the air move slightly as they both nodded their heads in the dark.
He returned to the hall.
The light had returned to the top of the shaft.
Hergl called down "The passage connects to a larger one. We had to do a little work to clear the entrance, but grandpapa, it isn't even tainted!"
"Good work! We'll start sending people up."
By his count seven of the older children had been hauled up the shaft when the first shriek erupted out of the wall. The Darkspawn hadn't been waiting them out. They had tunneled around the door he thought in despair.
Vartan cried up to the faces above "Run! As fast as you can! As long as you can!"
The light vanished and he set himself to buying time.
The three shrieks that popped out were followed by even more genlocks. Four of the women were wielding two battle axes, two on each axe. They were chanting "One, two, hit" as they struck at each foe. Some clever child had lit the remaining lamps. At least they would have light with which to fight.
He felt of surge of his old strength and threw himself into battle with a will. The air was full of the stench of darkspawn, the collected odours of forty odd dwarves, smoke, the shrieking and roaring of darkspawn and above it all the crying of terrified babies.
One by one his kinsmen fell. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one terrified girl dragged away by genlocks until she was killed by a crossbow bolt. Good, no Gavorn would wind up a ghoul serving and fighting beside their blight ridden masters.
Finally he was the only dwarf remaining. He was bleeding in at least two places, possibly more. The exhaltation of battle had long left him. And the wail of babies had steadily diminished behind him to one shrill cry in the dank, oppressive air.
There was a pause in the battle. Only twelve darkspawn remained. The last baby stopped crying. There was silence.
A body fell behind the darkspawn, then several more. He heard a hooting from the airshaft above answered by a chuckling from the spawn in front of him.
Vartan Gavorn raised his axe, inhaled to give his battle cry and died when an arrow entered his left eye. The last of the lanterns went out.