Part 25: Close Encounters
The Darkspawn encounters within the labyrinth had totaled three so far. They had been small, and easily dispatched.
Whether it was fate, or just bad luck, another group of Darkspawn took it upon themselves to come a-visiting. They landed some three chambers away from the Dragon's Lair, and trundled through the tunnels.
They arrived at the Lair to the surprise and consternation of the dwarves and the other protectors of Senistraz. Fortunately, the elder dragons and the other protectors had had the wisdom to leave defenders.
Unfortunately, the defenders were outnumbered by some six to one. This group of Darkspawn was no small force. It was a large band, and the dwarves were overwhelmed quickly, pushed into defensive positions within Senistraz' chamber.
They fought gamely, though they all knew that, no matter what happened, this was it. They all held, or they all died. No help could reach them in time. No one even knew of their desperate plight.
Dugan was there, through sheer luck—or fate. He swung around him with his great hammer, sheering through numbers of the advancing horde as easily as if he were pounding his anvil on a Saturday afternoon.
Addie healed and healed, her magic flashing out amongst the dwarves in bright flashes of light. But she was alone, no other healer to help her. She could not withstand the onslaught anymore than the brave dwarves of Dwarf Town could.
Finally, they could see an end to the Darkspawn. At last they were all crowded into Senistraz' chamber. But it was too late. They were too badly injured, too overrun.
"Drop!" came the mental command, and the dwarves and Addie all abandoned the fight to obey that stern, final, uncompromising demand without objection.
Senistraz took a deep breath. Bright blue-white flame exploded into the room, sweeping across all of the remaining Darkspawn.
It burned with a cold so deep that they were instantly frozen into place. It burned with a cold that stole breath. It burned with an incisive, implacable logic. It froze friend and foe alike, searing them with flames of infinite, frigid knowledge.
Senistraz, drained near to death by the effort, dropped back to the ground. The dwarves, except for the one who had been unfortunate enough to get caught in the wave of freezing fire, jumped up and began shattering the frozen Darkspawn.
From behind the Darkspawn horde flowed a mighty army of dwarves, who leaped into the fray without question or hesitation.
One Hurlock Emissary had escaped the devastation, and started casting on the beleaguered dwarves near Senistraz, obviously hoping to take as many more with him as he could before the advancing army reached him.
Abbie had no more Power left to call on. She was drained, tapped, exhausted. So, she picked up the dragon statue off of the table and slammed it, full force, into the back of the brute's head. It went down with a strangled, gurgling cry. Abbie picked up a washcloth from a nearby bucket and wiped the statue clean, setting it back on the table.
"I saw that!" Dugan said.
Abbie patted it. "It's been christened now."
Dugan grunted, but grinned. "Where's Simon when you need him? Someone's got to clean up this shit."
Abbie went over to take a look at the frozen dwarf. A quick deep inspection of him showed his heart still beating. He would survive. She told everyone to simply avoid him, and she would heal him when he thawed. He would be fine so long as nobody knocked a body part off.
So they began to clean up around the hapless dwarf while Abbie went over to take a look at Senistraz. She delved into the dragon, seeking and searching. Her main concern, once she knew that Senistraz would recover from the exertion of making the fire, was why the fire wasn't fire at all.
She sought into Senistraz' body until she reached the fire glands. She found them twisted and flattened. She reached out to heal them, to straighten and correct them so that they would produce sulphur rather than nitrogen.
"No," Senistraz told her, almost startling her out of her mediation. "Senistraz is not deformed. Senistraz is as she should be. The cold flame is useful, and Senistraz is not ashamed. Cold flame is the blessing hidden within the tragedy. There are others yet to find."
"But you will never be able to produce it without pain," Abbie replied sadly.
"Then perhaps it is that which you should fix," Senistraz replied reasonably.
Lit on fire by the idea, Abbie began to search the ducts and passages that allowed for the cold flame to be regurgitated. After some time, she had tweaked them enough that they would begin to grow in the way she wanted. She dared not change them immediately, as it would drain too much from Senistraz' remaining resources.
But she could, and she did, ensure that they would develop from then on in a way that would no longer bring pain, but actually bring a small measure of pleasure. Secretly, she felt that, after all that had been done to Senistraz, she deserved it. But she hid it cleverly, knowing that Senistraz would think it foolish, as there was no logical reason for it.
Abbie adored Senistraz, but she wasn't entirely convinced that "reason" was the highest way of making every decision.
When she was done, she emerged from her trance to find the elder dragons and their companions in the room, helping clean out Darkspawn corpses. Dugan was telling them what had happened, making much out of her use of his "obviously sturdy, dwarven-made" statue to kill one of them.
"Abbie, do you feel well? We have some questions for you."
"Certainly," Abbie told them. "Let me just find a chair first, please."
She sank down into one as the dwarves continued to bustle in and out of the room.
"Well," Alistair said. "This is going to make it much harder to keep this a secret."
"Hopefully Mathinas will play his hand quickly, then," Simon agreed.