I want to apologize for the delay - real life has been a bugger lately!
And a sincere apology to those wonderful authors whose stories I haven't reviewed during my time away - I promise to rectify that immediately!
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tgail73, KayraCousland, Eriana10, AlexSavard, AdalaeAmell, heavenXscent, Constantano, Steve 69, Deeca, Sharem, Deliciously Weird, Sarkule, Kira Kyuuketsuki, and dragonzap93: Hugs to you all for your support!
I used some of the dialogue from the game, intermixed with my own little touches! ;-) Bioware owns all!
"What is this?" Zeva said, stepping slowly toward the large fleshy sack attached to the center of the pillar before her. Similar containers adorned the walls and floors of the chamber surrounding the party. They had just dispatched a large group of skeletons, and stepped into a side passage, silence descending upon them. Reaching out tentatively, she ran her finger over the dark pink material; pulling her hand back quickly and examining the residue on her fingertips.
"Warden," Oghren said, a look of disgust darkening his features, "I have been in the Deep Roads more times than I can count, and I have never seen anything like this."
Stepping to her side, Duncan took her hand, bringing her fingers toward his face and sniffing them; wrinkling his nose in disgust. "It's as though the walls themselves are alive," he said quietly. "I cannot even conceive of what would cause this."
"I would strongly suggest that you clean that off of your hands before we continue," Wynne suggested, stepping forward and producing a rag from her pack. "I won't have you getting sick down here, on top of everything else."
"Yes, mom," Zeva joked, wiping the thick mucus onto the towel. She could see the mirth on the mage's face, though she tried her best to appear stern. "From the increase in the amount of this material, I would say we are approaching a vital area. We should move cautiously." She proceeded down the dimly lit tunnel, Zevran and Duncan at her sides.
"First day they come and catch everyone." The words floated eerily down the passageway toward the party, and they all froze temporarily. Weapons were raised and every eye searched the nearby alcoves for signs of the unseen poet.
"Please tell me I'm not the only one who heard that," Zeva said, goose bumps rising on her arms.
Oghren shook his head slowly. "I wish you were," he said quietly. It was the first time since their introduction that Zeva saw the dwarf appear disconcerted.
"Second day they beat us and eat some for meat." The haunting melody continued; growing louder as they moved from the stone corridors to a rough-hewn hallway dug straight into the rocks. "Third day the men are all gnawed on again."
"I think, my darling Zeva, that we should dispose of this bard as soon as we meet her," Zevran said, inching closer to her and gazing up at the crude idols that were arranged in a nearby candlelit alcove. "I cannot imagine anything good can come from this."
"That is a definite possibility," Zeva said, continuing down the chiseled pathway. A solid oaken door awaited them at the end of the corridor and she opened it, stepping into a large cavern. The chamber before them split into two separate rooms. The path forward continued to their right. Zeva gazed left and gasped, bringing Duncan quickly to her side. The room was covered in the rotted flesh sacks, but that wasn't what attracted the Wardens' attention. Bent over in the middle of the gore, rummaging through one of the pods, was a blond dwarven woman. She had her back turned to the party. As they moved closer, they could clearly hear the rest of her horrific rhyme.
"Fourth day we wait and fear for our fate," she continued, picking up bulbous pieces of flesh and setting them in a pile at her feet. "Fifth day they return and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day we hated as she is violated."
Zeva stepped cautiously up to the distracted woman, pulling a dagger from her back for protection. "Excuse me, miss," she said quietly, not wishing to scare the dwarf.
"Ninth day she grins and devours her kin," she continued, seemingly unaware of the new arrivals to her lair. "Now she does feast, as she's become the beast. Now you lay and wait, for the screams will haunt you in your dreams."
"Hello?" Duncan interjected as he led the rest of the party toward the poetess. Her rhyming stopped and she slowly turned; her chin tucked down to her chest. Slowly she raised her head and Zeva's mouth dropped open. There were dark blotches and scars covering the young woman's face. Her eyes were clouded and her lips were dry and cracked. She met Duncan's gaze, though she appeared to stare right through him.
"And what is this before me – a human? Strong, exotic, handsome - yet you cannot be," she murmured dreamily, staring into Duncan's face. "Feeding brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors."
Zeva motioned for Wynne to come closer. "See if you can determine what is wrong with her," she whispered to the mage. As the older woman's hands began to glow, Zeva turned her attention back to the dwarf.
"Who are you?" she asked the ailing dwarf. "Why are you here alone?"
"I am Hespith, and I am not alone," the woman replied, her eyes still fixed on Duncan. "Laryn is here, as well. Although, she is not Laryn anymore…"
Placing her hand on Zeva's arm, Wynne pulled the Warden close. "I have never seen anything like this," she quietly explained. "I would assume it is darkspawn poisoning, but she looks far worse than Ruck did. The only thing I can say for sure is that she won't be alive for much longer. Her life signs are extremely faint."
"Maybe we can help you," Zeva said softly, finally drawing the woman's attention to her. "You and Laryn."
"No, no you can't," she replied, shaking her head. "There's body and there's hope, and both are turning."
Oghren stepped forward, his patience wearing thin. "We are looking for Paragon Branka," he said angrily. "If you know where she is, you had best tell me now."
Instantly the dwarf turned to Oghren, her dull eyes finally flashing with life. "Branka!" she yelled, her body beginning to shake. "You will not mention that name to me! What she has done – it is beyond words, beyond all forgiveness…"
As quickly as the spark was ignited, it vanished from the dwarven woman's face. "I am to blame," she softly confessed. "I was her captain and I didn't stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her…"
Seeing the look on Oghren's face at the stranger's confession, Zeva quickly placed herself in front of him. "What did Branka do, Hespith? What couldn't you stop?"
Shaking her head furiously, Hespith began moving away from them. "No!" she cried. "I will not speak of her anymore! I will not become what I have seen! I will not…" Turning, she dashed from the room, her voice trailing off. "I will not, will not…"
"She is obviously mad," Wynne said calmly, placing a hand on Oghren's shoulder. "I wouldn't put much credence in anything she said."
"It doesn't matter," he said sadly, shrugging away from her touch. "I have a feeling that the Branka I knew died here a long time ago. The Paragon is all that exists now."
Turning away, he led the group down yet another musty passage.
o~~~~~~~~o
Isolde stood outside Eamon's bedroom door, straightening her dress. He had summoned her to his side not more than an hour before, and she wanted to look her best when she arrived. She knew their conversation would be a difficult one. Teagan had most assuredly made her out to be responsible for all the ills that had befallen their family. However, Eamon had always been infatuated with her, and she had no doubts as to her ability to persuade him to her way of thinking. Wearing her sweetest smile, she pushed open the door and walked inside.
"You called for me, husband?" she asked, pulling a chair up to his bedside and reaching for his hand. Her smile faltered slightly as Eamon pulled away from her; but she quickly regained her composure, placing her hands in her lap.
"Isolde," Eamon began, his voice stern. "I am only going to say this once and I will not hear any arguments from you. Your actions of late have been nothing less than deplorable. Because of your manipulations and lies, Redcliffe came close to complete destruction. Had it not been for Zeva Cousland, Alistair, and their companions, all that I hold dearest would have been lost forever."
"Eamon…" she began.
"I said NO ARGUMENTS, Isolde!" he spat angrily, and she jumped back as though physically struck. Never, in all their years of marriage, had she seen him this angry. His eyes blazed with fury and she was nearly positive she saw hatred in their grayish-blue depths.
"I won't even begin to address your betrayal with regards to Connor's abilities; though I do understand your reluctance to address the issue," he said and his eyes softened somewhat as he gazed out of the open bedroom window. "I hate having to give him to the Circle for training, but we have no choice. The mage, Kinnon, and the Templars that accompanied him will be returning to the Circle once he is sure that I have recovered. When they go, Connor will be accompanying them."
Isolde jumped from her chair, her eyes opening in horror. "No, Eamon!" she exclaimed. "You cannot let them take my child from me! He is mine and I won't let them have him!" The bedroom door opened and Ser Perth stepped inside, pulling it closed behind him. He stood casually, leaning against the door frame; his eyes fixed on the Arlessa as she continued pacing the room. She saw the silent acknowledgment that passed between the two men and moved back to her chair; sitting down and glaring at her husband.
"Eamon, are you listening to me?" she asked, her voice rising in desperation. "Please don't let them take my Connor! Those mages will never take care of him. We can hire someone to teach him. This time, it will be someone reliable, I swear it!"
"Isolde," Eamon began, and his emotionless tone made her skin tingle with fear, "Connor will be accompanying the mages back to the Circle. The arrangements have been made and nothing you say will change them."
"Furthermore," he continued, ignoring the tears that were now falling from her eyes, "you will be leaving Redcliffe on the morrow."
"L-leaving?" she gasped, her voice choked by her tears. "I am going with Connor? I don't understand. I thought that families were not allowed in the Cir…"
"No, Isolde," Eamon said, interrupting her rambling speech. "You will not be accompanying Connor. I am sending you to the estate in Denerim. You may take two of your maids with you. I will send a contingent of soldiers with you to make sure you arrive safely. I do not know when or if you will be returning here."
Isolde's hand shot to her throat and she gasped, her tears flowing anew. "You cannot mean…" she began, shaking her head in disbelief. "Y-you are sending me away, my husband? After all we have just s-survived, you would c-cast me aside?" Rising once again from her chair, she sat on his bed, desperately trying to take his hands in her own. "Please, my d-darling," she begged, her breath escaping in loud gasps, "I never m-meant to cause anyone h-harm. I only wi-wished to protect my C-Connor! Please, Eamon, look at m-me!"
Perth stepped forward, placing his hands on the Arlessa's arms and pulling her from the bed. Eamon looked up at his struggling wife, his voice missing some of its recent venom. "What you have done, Isolde, cannot be forgiven," he said firmly. "I overlooked your selfishness for most of our marriage, but you have proven to be incapable of thinking of anyone beyond yourself. I can no longer stand by and allow your poisonous nature to threaten this house and those who rely on it for their safety. You will be safe from the darkspawn in Denerim. Once the Blight has been dealt with, I will decide what the future holds for you and me, if anything."
Shifting his gaze, Eamon addressed the knight holding his wife firmly in his grasp. "Perth, please take Arlessa Isolde to her quarters and remain with her while she packs her things," he commanded. "Have your men do the same for her maids. Ser Robbins is seeing to the travel arrangements as we speak. In the morning, he will be leading the contingent to Denerim."
"Of course, my Arl," Perth said, pulling Isolde through the door. Her screams could be heard throughout the castle as she was forced into her quarters; the door locked behind her.
When the last of her cries died away, Eamon finally allowed himself a moment to mourn the loss of the love he hoped would last a lifetime…
o~~~~~~~~o
Zeva stepped cautiously through the smoothly carved tunnel, adrenaline coursing through her body. Since leaving Hespith, the party had dealt with two ogres, countless darkspawn and a contingent of specters from the Legion of the Dead. They had barricaded themselves inside the Legionnaire's hall, seeking some much needed sleep.
Their attempts at rest were unsuccessful, at least at first. Hespith's voice rang out periodically through the haunted tunnels. She spoke of the downfall of Branka's house. How the Paragon had allowed her followers to be taken and used by the darkspawn. The men were quickly killed and given as nourishment to the remaining prisoners and the horde. The women, however, were kept alive. Theirs was a far greater punishment; to be used as toys for the darkspawn. They were touched, molded, reshaped to the image that the unnatural creatures desired.
Laryn was apparently their favorite experiment. According to the sickening tale, they took her and forced her to eat her own kin. She even went so far as to tear off her own husband's face and eat it, drinking his blood to wash it down. The more they fed her, the more she grew. The last word Zeva heard as she fell into a fitful sleep was 'Broodmother'. She was unsure what it meant; but whatever it was, it conjured an entirely new realm of horror to her trip through the Fade. She awoke screaming, Duncan's arms wrapped tightly around her in an effort to stop her unconscious thrashing.
Now, as she once again followed the sound of Hespith's relentless diatribe, she knew she was soon to discover the truth about the Broodmother.
The party halted before a living nightmare. Zevran was the first to speak, his attempt at humor the only thing keeping Zeva from complete shock. "Though I have always been fond of breasts, my Warden – yours in particular, of course – I find that ten of them might be too much for even me. Especially when placed on the same woman," he announced, drawing his daggers from his back and moving forward to cover Zeva's slow advance.
The creature formerly known as Laryn rose to the ceiling before them. She was nude, her bulbous body consisting of ten breasts and just as many tentacles. The writhing appendages swung wildly about her carcass, sliding out of holes in the ground around her. She saw the intruders and opened her mouth; spitting out a foul-smelling mucous as she screamed at them.
Her call brought forth a small party of darkspawn, all of whom took up positions to defend their mistress. "Duncan," Zeva suggested as she moved toward the monstrosity, "why don't you take Zevran and Oghren and keep the darkspawn from becoming a problem? I will approach with Wynne and give our hostess a proper greeting."
"Be cautious, love," he called back to her. "We will join you as soon as her bodyguards have been dealt with. Nihlus," he added, focusing on the Mabari, "guard your mistress, boy!" The hound jumped to Zeva's side, and she and Wynne rushed toward the towering mass of flesh.
"Zeva," Wynne called as she readied her staff, "I will contend with the tentacles. You should concentrate on the main body, if you can."
Nodding, Zeva circled the Broodmother, attacking her from the side; while keeping as much distance as possible from the furiously swinging arms. Her Riposte and Flurry attacks slowly took their toll on the behemoth, and blood flowed from each of her enormous teats. Lack of proper sleep began to weigh on the young Warden, however, and she found her daggers growing heavier with each upward stab or slice.
Wynne stayed back from the general fray, casting her spells from a distance. The elderly mage relentlessly worked her way through the rising limbs; using combinations of ice and lightening to disable them one at a time. The process was slow going, however, as her targets would disappear into the cold rock below her feet almost as soon as they rose into view.
Out of the corner of her eye, Zeva watched her male companions as they decapitated and dismembered scores of darkspawn, with several shrieks thrown in for good measure. She slowly realized that the help she needed with defeating Laryn may not come, and it was up to her to see that the mutated dwarf finally returned to the Stone to join her ancestors. Though the Broodmother was severely injured, she was far from defeated. As Zeva dodged below one of the tentacles in an effort to slice at her bleeding torso, Laryn attacked; grabbing the Warden around the waist and lifting her cleanly off the ground.
"Maker, Zeva!" Wynne cried and Duncan turned to see his lover yanked into the air, a thick tentacle wrapped several times around her body. The Broodmother shook her in the air, and Duncan looked on in horror as Zeva drove her daggers into the tightening appendage; desperately trying to find purchase in case the creature decided to fling her away.
"I've got these nug-humping bastards, Warden!" Oghren cried and Duncan turned to see the berserker wading through the darkspawn; arms and legs flying with each swing of his mighty axe. "Go get your woman!"
Without another moment's thought, Duncan dashed through the few remaining limbs toward the mindless creature. Jumping onto the Broodmother's lowest breast, he leapt forward; landing on Laryn's shoulder and quickly dashing behind her head. Wrapping his legs around her flabby neck, he plunged his daggers into both sides of her head; hearing the sickening crunch as the skull gave way and the blades dug into her skull.
The shriek of agony was nearly deafening, and it took every bit of Duncan's remaining strength to hold on as the Broodmother flailed about wildly; trying in vain to dislodge her attacker. The defensive shaking quickly dissolved into the final shivering death throes of a defeated opponent. Time seemed to stand still for the Warden Commander as Zeva's body was released and she fell onto the Broodmother's chest, slowly sliding to the ground.
Zevran was immediately at her side, along with Wynne and Oghren. The mage quickly set about healing her wounds and by the time Duncan climbed down to join them, Zeva was coming around; her irritated groans music to his ears. He knelt next to her, gently lifting her head into his lap and cradling it between his large palms. Slowly her eyes opened, and her gaze focused on his own. "How do you feel?" he asked, smiling warmly down at her.
"I have been better," she replied, returning his smile. "However, I suppose I shouldn't complain; given that I was almost a smear on the cavern wall. I'm not sure how much longer I could have held on."
"I have never doubted your stubbornness, my beautiful Zeva," Zevran said, resting his hand on her lower calf and meeting Duncan's furious glare with one of his own. "I am quite positive you would have won the battle of wills with that atrocious creature."
"Your faith in my abilities is uncanny, Zev," Zeva replied, "and I thank you. Now, we really must get going." That said, she began struggling to rise from the blood-covered ground. Duncan refused to allow it until Wynne gave her approval, and then he helped his love to her feet. Turning toward the exit, the party was once again met by Hespith's woeful countenance. She stood far above them, on a high stone walkway.
"That's where they come from," she began, her voice filled with sadness. "That's why they hate us… that's why they need us. That's why they take us… that's why they feed us."
Zeva shivered with revulsion as she glanced back at the deceased Broodmother. If that is what the darkspawn did with all the women they captured…
"But the true abomination…is not that it occurred, but that it was allowed," Hespith continued, once again drawing Zeva's complete attention. "Branka… my love… The Stone has punished me, dream friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal." Her story concluded, the sick dwarven woman turned and vanished from sight.
"Oghren," Duncan said softly, "I am afraid your wife has much to answer for when we find her."
"I couldn't agree more, Warden," the angry dwarf replied as the party moved forward, leaving the horror that Laryn had become far behind them.
o~~~~~~~~o
"How are you faring, Eamon?" Teagan asked cautiously as he entered his brother's bedroom. Ser Perth had informed the Bann of Isolde's imminent departure, and Teagan worried about how this would affect Eamon's recovery.
Sighing heavily, Eamon smiled wanly at the concerned Bann. "No need to worry yourself, Teagan," he said softly. "I know I made the right decision in sending Isolde away. My marriage has been over for many years now. This latest development only acts as confirmation of what I previously feared. Isolde will never have the strength to put others before herself, and I can no longer tolerate her behavior."
Taking the seat next to Eamon's bedside, Teagan nodded solemnly in agreement. "I am sorry for everything that has happened to you, Eamon," he said quietly. "I wish I could do something to ease your burdens."
"Nonsense!" Eamon replied, clapping Teagan on the shoulder. "Had it not been for you, Zeva and her companions, I would have lost not only my land, but my son, as well. I hope she returns soon, so I may thank her properly for her heroic actions with regards to this family."
"As do I, brother," Teagan said, smiling warmly at the mention of his beloved Warden.
Failing to notice the wistful expression on the Bann's face when he mentioned Zeva, Eamon continued. "I have been thinking of how to proceed against Loghain, Teagan," he said, clasping his hands in his lap. "His crimes are unforgiveable and he cannot be allowed to continue ruling this country. He obviously cares more for his own power than the safety of his kingdom, as he destroyed our greatest chance of defeating the darkspawn when he sacrificed so many capable Wardens at Ostagar."
"I couldn't agree more," Teagan said. "He must be made to answer for his crimes. What do you think our first step should be?"
"I wish to call a Landsmeet," Eamon announced firmly. "We must give the nobles of Ferelden a chance to see the damage that Loghain has done to this country. Only then can we hope to unite our land against the Blight. Our best chance, in my opinion, is to announce a candidate who will put the needs of his people before his own desires."
"You wish to name Alistair as king, don't you?" Teagan said, resting his head in the palm of his hand. "I think that is a wonderful idea, though I think it may take some convincing to get him to agree. Alistair has spent his entire life being told that he would never be able to take his father's throne, and he has accepted that fact. Getting him to change his views may be harder than you imagine."
"I thought the very same thing, Teagan," Eamon replied. "However, I think I have come up with a solution that will greatly aid our cause; both with Alistair and the nobility."
"Really?" Teagan asked, smiling warmly at his brother. "And what exactly is this brilliant plan of yours?"
Eamon chuckled, his eyes lighting up for the first time since he had returned from his Fade captivity. "I spoke to Alistair at length last night regarding his adventures with the Wardens," he explained." It didn't take me long to realize how fond he is of Zeva. He practically glowed each time he mentioned her name. So, this is my thought. What noble would dare to oppose a monarchy led by a Theirin and a Cousland? Zeva has always considered her duty before all else, and I am sure she could be convinced to marry Alistair for the good of her country…"
"What?" Teagan cried, rising from his chair. Eamon's eyes flew open wide in shock at Teagan's reaction. "You want Zeva to marry Alistair? NEVER! I will not allow this, Eamon, so you may as well forget it!"
"Teagan," Eamon began cautiously, trying to placate the furious Bann, "what has come over you? Surely you can see the benefits of this match…." He trailed off as he saw the fury blazing in his brother's eyes.
"She is mine, Eamon," Teagan spat, glaring down at the Arl. "Do you understand that? No one will marry Zeva Cousland but me! No one!"
"Maker, Teagan," Eamon said softly, realization dawning in his eyes. "What haven't you told me about the events that occurred while I was trapped in the Fade?"
"Zeva and I have been together, Eamon," Teagan said, breathing deeply in an attempt to regain his composure. "I have always loved her, and I am so close to winning her for my own. I will not allow you to take her from me to further your own political agenda."
Shaking his head slowly, Eamon turned his most sympathetic gaze on his younger sibling. "I am sorry, Teagan," he began. "I know this must be difficult for you; but when it comes to the future of Ferelden, some sacrifices may have to be made. You know this."
"I will say this only once, Eamon," Teagan said, his voice carrying a deadly edge. "I will support your decision to put Alistair forth as king. However, Zeva will not be part of your political bargaining. I don't care if all of Ferelden wants her as queen. She will be my wife, and no one else's. Do not cross me in this matter, for you will lose." Turning on his heel, the Bann left the room; slamming the door shut behind him.
Eamon stared at the closed door; wondering, not for the first time, if he hadn't been better off when he was lost in the Fade.
o~~~~~~~~o
"By the ancestors, that was loud," Oghren said as he whipped around, watching the tunnel the party had just exited collapse behind them. "So much for returning that way."
"Visitors!" a rough female voice called from behind them. Zeva turned quickly, gazing up at the armor clad dwarf who was eyeing her suspiciously from a nearby ledge. "How marvelous. Let me be blunt with you. After all this time, my tolerance for social graces is fairly limited. That doesn't bother you, I hope."
"Branka!" Oghren called, stepping toward the stranger; a broad smile on his face. His expression quickly changed as the nightmarish vision of Hespith and Laryn once again entered his mind. "You have some explaining to do, woman."
"Oghren," Branka replied, rolling her eyes dramatically. "It figures you'd eventually find your way here. Hopefully, you can find your way back more easily." She smiled wryly as her gaze shifted to Duncan.
"And how shall I address you?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Hired sword of the latest lordling to come looking for me? Or just the only one who didn't mind Oghren's ale breath?"
Before Duncan could answer, Zeva spoke up. "You'll have to forgive me if I find your opinion of our choice in companions to be completely irrelevant," she said, anger blazing in her eyes. "I have seen with my own eyes how you treat those you 'supposedly' care for. Oghren's breath, though not the most pleasant, is amazingly tolerable when compared to your own faults."
"Ahhh… an opinionated woman," Branka said, her smile widening. "How very refreshing. You may be exactly what I need."
"Someone else needing a favor," Zevran stated, frowning at the Paragon. "Why does this not surprise me? It seems as though no one in this cursed kingdom can do anything for themselves."
"Let me guess," Branka replied, her expression reflecting her obvious disgust as the assassin's statement. "Endrin is no more, and the current monarch hopeful sent you to find me and bring a Paragon's blessing to his campaign. Am I correct?"
"Yes," Duncan said bluntly. "There is a Blight ravaging the land and the Grey Wardens need the support of Orzammar to end it. The only way we can get that aid is to put a king on the throne. That is where you come in."
Branka laughed harshly, throwing her hands into the air. "I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne," she declared. "Because our protector, our great invention, the thing that made our armies the envy if the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting!"
The Paragon stared sternly at Duncan, gesticulating wildly to emphasize her point. "The Anvil of the Void," she said. "The means by which the ancients forged their army of golems and held off the first Archdemon ever to rise. It's here. So close I can taste it!"
"Well then, by all means, don't let us keep you!" Zeva spat, ignoring Duncan's angry glare. "Or is the great Paragon facing a problem that requires the aid of others? Maybe if you hadn't betrayed your entire clan by giving them to the darkspawn you claim that you wish to defeat, you wouldn't be trapped here, alone."
"Zeva…" Duncan began.
"No," Branka said, shaking her head definitively. "Don't stop her from speaking her mind. A woman should never be made to hold her tongue for any man. Yes, Warden, I do need your help; and if you want my support for your puppet monarch, you will give it to me."
"Fine," Zeva replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you need from me? The sooner I am gone from here, the happier I will be."
"The Anvil lies on the other side of a gauntlet of traps designed by Caridin, himself," Branka explained. My people and I have given body and soul to unlocking its secrets. If you wish me to get involved with this imbecilic election, I must first have the Anvil."
Branka nodded toward a nearby corridor, her eyes alight with excitement. "There is only one way out for you now, Warden," she said, ignoring everyone but Zeva. "Forward. Through Caridin's maze and out to where the Anvil waits."
Oghren stepped forward, no longer able to remain silent. "What has this place done to you?' he cried, his voice tinged with pain. "I remember a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance."
A brief flash of sadness crossed Branka's face as she turned away. "I am your Paragon," she said quietly, exiting through an archway to her left.
"Come on, Oghren," Zeva said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Let's finish this."
"Right behind you, Warden," the dwarf replied, his face a mask of grim determination.
o~~~~~~~~o
Fergus strolled through the castle gardens, enjoying the few moments he was allowed outside of his rooms. Teagan fussed over him like an old married woman; never letting him overexert himself in any way. At least Kinnon left him alone now, for the most part. The mage was busy making sure that Eamon was settled before he had to return to the Circle Tower.
Turning a corner toward the rose garden, Fergus spied the bard that had arrived with Alistair's party sitting below an oak tree, busily scribbling in a worn journal. Not wishing to interrupt her, he turned back toward the main gate.
"Teyrn Cousland?" Fergus stopped and turned toward the soft voice that called from across the lawn. The lovely red-haired woman had risen from her spot and was moving hurriedly toward him; a bright smile on her face. "It is good to see you out and about," she said, moving to stand before him. "Zeva will be thrilled when she arrives."
Fergus's smile vanished at the mention of his sister. Each time he thought of her alone in Orzammar, with only the Warden Commander and an assassin as her protection, his blood boiled. He tried to maintain a pleasant demeanor in front of the Wardens' companions, but his concern for Zeva was beginning to get the best of him.
Picking up on the change in the Teyrn's mood, Leliana reached out; placing a hand on his arm. "Would you like to talk about her?" she asked softly. Fergus opened his mouth to decline; but as he looked into her clear blue eyes, he felt his resignation falter.
"Yes, I think I would like that very much," he replied, smiling warmly down at her. He allowed the bard to take his arm and lead him to a nearby bench. As they made themselves comfortable, Leliana was the one to break the silence.
"Zeva is perfectly fine, you know," she said cheerfully, her eyes sparkling as she spoke of his sister. "She is in the best possible company. With Duncan and Zevran at her side, no one will ever be able to harm her."
"Really?" Fergus asked, confusion evident on his face. "From what I have been told, the Warden Commander hasn't done a very good job so far of keeping Zee Zee out of harm's way. And this Zevran – he is the elven assassin, I suppose? Maker, what was she thinking? Allowing a man who tried to kidnap her to stay by her side. I swear, when I get a chance to talk to her, I will…"
His rant was interrupted by Leliana's joyous laughter. "I see that stubbornness runs in the Cousland family," Leliana said, shaking her head. "Allow me to explain something to you, if I may, Teyrn; though I can't believe that you don't already know this. If, when Zeva returns here, you attempt to question her decisions regarding either Duncan or Zevran, you may find yourself in need of the Circle mage once again."
"Oh, will I?" Fergus replied, his voice softening somewhat. Her joy was contagious, and he found himself smiling, despite his irritation. "Maybe you had better explain where my conclusions went awry. After all, I don't believe that my facts are incorrect. The Warden Commander did give away Zee Zee's location to Howe's men, didn't he? And the elf did try to kill you and take her to Howe, correct?"
The smile never fading from her lips, Leliana nodded. "Yes, Milord, that is indeed what happened," she replied casually. "Actually, I was with Duncan when Howe's men learned of Zeva's location. So if you are looking to place blame, then you should include me, as well. I was also at his side when he dispatched the men who were following us from Denerim. He fought as a man possessed; which isn't surprising, given his undying devotion to your sister."
Fergus opened his mouth to interject, only to close it again when the bard continued. "As for Zevran – he is one particular individual that I would not attempt to alienate, if I were you," she said, her intense gaze showing the sincerity of her words. "Zeva and Zevran have a relationship that goes far deeper than any friendship I have ever seen before. Since his original attack on our party, Zevran has saved Zeva's life on numerous occasions, as she has his. Even Duncan, for all that Zeva loves him, cannot hope to separate the two of them – and, believe me, he has tried."
Fergus looked out over the gardens, his thoughts in disarray. This was not the same story that he had received from Teagan. In fact, it was nearly opposite. He was sure that Teagan adored his sister, so how could he get the details so wrong? Fergus shook his head slowly as the truth dawned on him. As though she could read his mind, Leliana spoke softly once again.
"Let me guess," she began, the smile once more returning to her lips. "Bann Teagan has given you a far different version of events than anything I have shared with you."
Fergus chuckled, the tension leaving his shoulders as he saw the look of amusement on the bard's face. "Correct," he replied. "And please don't call me 'Milord'. I am just 'Fergus' to any friend of Zee Zee's. Though I may still make the elf call me Milord."
"You will be lucky if he doesn't refer to you as 'my handsome Teyrn'," Leliana said, and laughed aloud at the look of shock on Fergus' face. "Oh, yes, our Zevran is quite the charmer. But back to the matter at hand, Fergus. Bann Teagan loves Zeva very much; of that I have no doubt. As such, he isn't handling her relationship with Duncan very well. I cannot blame him – Zeva is a beautiful woman, and he has waited many years for her, am I right?"
"You certainly are," Fergus replied. He suddenly felt quite sorry for Teagan. He knew it must be difficult to see her with the Warden Commander; especially after losing her to Nathaniel Howe when she first came of age. "I must admit to being uncomfortable with this current situation, however, Miss…" His cheeks flushed as he realized he had never learned her name.
"Leliana," she said softly. "I understand your concern, and I know that you will wish to clear up everything with Zeva when she arrives. I only ask that you listen to what she has to say and not attempt to make her decisions for her. I would hate to see her in pain because of a rift in her relationship with you. She has been beside herself with worry for you, especially after Ostagar."
"Actually," she continued, "you may find yourself unable to get a word in during your first conversation with her. I have no doubt that she will question you mercilessly regarding how you survived after the battle."
"Of course," he said, nodding absently. "I wish I could tell her everything, but I am afraid I am quite fuzzy on the details of my rescue from the Wilds. I can remember nothing before I arrived here. According to Ser Perth, I only missed your departure by a single day. During my recuperation, I have spent countless hours trying to remember the faces of those who found me in the forest and tended to my wounds; but alas, there is nothing specific to my recollections. I am almost sure I was aided by an elderly woman, but even that is questionable."
"Elderly woman?" Leliana asked, her expression suddenly quite serious. "This woman was in the Wilds with you? Was she one of the Wilder folk?" The bard shook slightly as a terrible thought crossed her mind.
"I am not sure," Fergus answered. "I cannot remember her face. I only get small flashes of gray hair, if I recall correctly…"
"And you say you arrived here the day we left?" Leliana queried, her discomfort growing stronger by the second. Morrigan had seemed unusually happy as they left Redcliffe…
The Teyrn nodded, picking up on the change in her mood. "Yes, that's what Perth said," he repeated. "Is there something wrong, Leliana? You seem disquieted."
Instantly her expression changed, and the smile once again brightened her face. "Oh, of course not, Fergus!" she said happily. "It's just a habit of mine. I always love a good mystery, and I get so wrapped up in finding out every detail. Sorry if I concerned you."
Before Fergus could question her further, Teagan's voice travelled across the garden. "Fergus Cousland! I should have known you would come here," he called as he approached the duo on the stone bench. Nodding politely at Leliana, the Bann continued. "You know you should be resting. Kinnon said you shouldn't be outside for more than an hour at a time."
"Alright, alright…" Fergus mumbled as he rose from the bench; ignoring the arm that Teagan offered him. "Maker, Teagan, you are becoming such a nag! Please excuse my abrupt departure, Leliana, but my nurse-maid here is having his usual fit."
"Well, he is right, you know," Leliana agreed, standing up and smiling warmly at both men. "We don't want you to be under the weather when Zeva returns. Now, go back to your room and rest. If you like, I can come up later and tell you some simply wonderful stories about your Zee Zee. If your guardsman approves, of course," she added, smirking at Teagan.
"I would like that very much, Leliana," Fergus said, his formerly dour mood completely gone. "Thank you."
Bowing respectfully, both men turned and walked toward the castle. Had either man looked back, they would have been surprised by the angry expression on the lovely bard's face.
Morrigan! Leliana thought furiously as she made her way back to her room. What in the Maker's name are you and your mother really planning?
o~~~~~~~~o
"Amazing," Wynne said, gazing at the lava waterfalls lining the enormous room before her. Caridin's trial had been long and arduous; but in the end, the party had successfully passed each test. Now they were standing in the entrance of an opulent cavern; ornate stone statues carved into the walls on every side.
"Not sure I like the looks of the welcoming party, though," Oghren remarked, inclining his head toward the golems that stood along the center of the room. The companions moved forward cautiously, Duncan and Zeva in the lead. The Wardens' focus was on the enormous figure at the head of the unusual assembly. The golem's demeanor spoke of someone who was used to being the center of attention. He spoke as the party stopped near him; his deep voice reverberating off the cavern's stone walls.
"My name is Caridin," he began, and Zeva's mouth dropped open slightly at his declaration. "Once, longer ago than I care to think, I was a Paragon to the dwarves of Orzammar."
"Ancestor's hairy balls," Oghren said. "This keeps getting stranger all the time."
The golem continued, ignoring Oghren's outburst. "If you seek the Anvil, then you must care about my story; or be doomed to relive it."
"You are Caridin?" Zeva asked, her disbelief evident in her tone. "If that is truly the case, I would be foolish not to listen to your tale."
"Though I made many things in my time, I rose to fame and earned my status based on a single thing – the Anvil of the Void," he explained, his stony gaze shifting between the two Wardens. "It allowed me to forge a man of steel or stone, as flexible and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were invincible. But I told no one the cost."
"And now we learn why he is in this state, I will wager," Zevran said quietly.
Zeva nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving Caridin. "No mere smith, however skilled, has the power to create life," he continued. "To make my golems live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere. I had only intended to use volunteers, as there was never a shortage of dwarves who were willing to sacrifice their lives for the good of their people. However, my king was not satisfied with that method, and soon a river of blood flowed out of this place."
Caridin sighed, as though trying to find the courage to carry on. "King Valtor sent prisoners, and eventually his own political enemies, to my Anvil to give their lives," he said with disgust. "Finally, I refused, unable to continue the horrors I had begun. Valtor was enraged, and had me put to the Anvil next."
"Don't golems require control rods?" Zeva asked. "How is it that you are speaking to us now?"
"Your observation is correct," he replied. "My apprentices knew enough to make me as I am, but not enough to fashion a control rod. I retained my mind. We have remained entombed here ever since, and I have sought a way to destroy the Anvil. Alas, I cannot do it myself. No golem may touch it."
"We may be able to help each other," Duncan replied, glancing down at Zeva. Harrowmont said he needed a Paragon's support, but he didn't specify which one. The Warden Commander despised what Branka had done to her House, and if he could accomplish his goal without aiding her, he would be thrilled.
Suddenly, from behind the party, an angry wail filled the cavern. "NO!" Branka yelled, rushing into the room. "The Anvil is mine! No one will take it from me!"
Caridin's reply was immediate and desperate. "Please!" he cried, staring at the Wardens, "Help me destroy the Anvil before it enslaves more innocent souls."
Zeva turned, facing Branka; her eyes flashing dangerously. "I have seen what you are capable of, when given power," she spat at the dwarf. "If you think I will allow you to have access to something this dangerous, you really have gone mad."
Her eyes widening in surprise, Branka turned her gaze to her husband. "Oghren," she began, her voice shaking, "you have to agree with me. These golems could return our people to their former glory. Stand with me and we will make Orzammar a kingdom to be reckoned with, once again!"
The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the male dwarf at Zeva's side. After several moments, he shook his head sadly, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I am sorry, Branka," he said quietly. "You have lost sight of everything that the dwarves are fighting for. If we gain our honor by discarding our own people, it will mean nothing. I stand with the Wardens."
"Fool!" she shouted, lifting her arm to show the item she had been hiding behind her back. "Caridin is not the only Paragon here! Golems, to me!" A sudden flash of light covered the room and the party sprang into action; drawing their weapons and engaging the nearby golems that were now following Branka's orders.
The sound of the battle was nearly deafening. Swords clanged against solid stone, and each movement of the golems echoed throughout the cavern. Zeva and Zevran took on the role of distractors. Each would dash around the nearest golem, drawing its attention to allow Duncan and Oghren to attack the opponents from behind.
Hearing Caridin's booming voice, Zeva turned to see him engaging Branka in battle. The two Paragons circled each other and the Warden couldn't help but admire the tenacity with which Branka fought the huge golem. Her attacks were ruthless and she frequently got the best of the less agile Caridin. It took Zeva mere moments to realize the dwarven woman's plan – she was edging the golem closer to a nearby ledge, hoping to push him into the molten lava below.
After checking to make sure her companions were safe, Zeva rushed toward the dueling Paragons; her blades spinning murderously in Branka's direction. The dwarf noticed her arrival before she could reach them, and with a loud scream, she turned from Caridin; her full focus now on the furious Warden.
"You surely don't think you will be able to beat me, do you?" Branka taunted, raising her hands above her head and calling out an indistinguishable command. Suddenly, Zeva found herself surrounded by several clones of the Paragon, all rushing forward to engage her. Using every ounce of her agility, she ducked beneath the oncoming blades, retreating quickly toward the center of the chamber in an effort give herself more room to maneuver.
"Duncan!" Zevran called, pointing in Zeva's direction. The Warden Commander turned, rushing toward his lover to help her fend off the Paragon's onslaught. As the rest of the enemy golems fell to the companions, each one joined the nearby fray. They methodically defeated the clones, until only the true Branka was left; continuing her combat with Zeva.
Though Branka had strength on her side, Zeva had flexibility. As the Paragon charged in for what she deemed to be a killing blow, Zeva stepped lithely aside; dropping to the ground and stretching her leg out before her opponent. Unable to stop, Branka's foot caught on the middle of Zeva's thigh and she fell forward; her axe bouncing out of her grasp as she flew forward onto her stomach. Zeva was up in a flash, diving onto the Paragon's back and pinning her to the ground.
"Relent, Branka!" she snarled at the dwarf struggling beneath her. "There is no need for this to end in blood."
"You are wrong, Warden," the Paragon spat through clenched teeth. "I will never submit. You will have to kill me to stop me."
Duncan held his blade to the back of Branka's neck, pinning her down as Zeva rose from the ground. Once she was clear, he backed up; allowing the dwarf to turn onto her back. She glared hatefully up at them, breathing heavily. "Well?" she challenged, tilting her head back to expose her neck. "Are you going to finish this, or have the Grey Wardens fallen that far?"
"No, he isn't," Oghren said, moving forward to stare down at his wife. "You have one last chance, Branka. Give this madness up and come back to Orzammar with me. The city needs a Paragon now, and you need to be away from here."
"The city needs its golems, you useless weakling," Branka retorted, and Zeva saw her companion flinch at the Paragon's hateful words. "I knew I was right to leave you behind. You would never be able to give me the support I needed in my quest. Now, either let me up or end it. I grow tired of all this talking."
Placing a hand on Oghren's arm, Zeva turned him toward her. "Let me do this," she said quietly.
"No, Zeva," he said quietly, using her name for the first time. "She is my wife and my problem." Turning back to Branka, he raised his axe. The sound of the blade as it struck the ground beneath Branka's neck made Zeva's heart ache for her newest companion.
Duncan returned to Caridin, gazing steadily at the golem. "We did as you asked," he stated bluntly. "Now you must do something for us, if you wish us to destroy the Anvil for you."
"Of course," Caridin replied. "I will put hammer to metal one last time, and give you a crown for your chosen king. I care not to hear his name, as my time here is at an end."
The Wardens received their crown, and the Anvil was destroyed. Caridin, his self-imposed exile no longer necessary, bid them a kind farewell before ending his own life in the lake of molten lava that ran below the cavern. As they left the chamber, beginning the long walk back to Orzammar, Zeva remained at Oghren's side. She silently offered him the comfort he needed as he stepped into his new life; one that wouldn't include his once beloved Branka.