The Keening Blade
Chapter 27: Mother's Day
The Mother was waiting. They made the time to eat, to brief Nathaniel a little further about the situation in the city, and then they were off, traveling with all haste west on the Coast Road toward Drake's Fall. People in the street cheered at the sight of them. The guards offered the royal salute as they rode through the gates of Amaranthine.
Unpleasantly cold wind ruffled the low scrub by the cliffs, blowing across the Feravel Plains and out to sea. With the mage's spells, they reached their destination by late afternoon. The sun hung low and orange in the sky, but they could not camp; they could not delay their mission; they could not stop until they were done.
Loghain knew that they must eventually turn south, somewhere along this lonely stretch of road. The old map Delilah had given him had marked Drake's Fall and its environs. In faded ink, the word "Dragonbone Wastes" scrawled out an implicit warning.
Here there be Monsters.
He had heard of the wastes, of course. There was an old legend from Tevinter times, of the place in the barbarian south where the dragons went to die. Foreign scavengers had once plagued Amaranthine, coming for the valuable dragonbone. Both the early Arls of Amaranthine and their liege lords the Teyrns of Highever had made a significant portion of their fortunes from extracting tolls and fees from said scavengers.
This part of the arling was thinly inhabited, or not inhabited at all. It was not cursed, as the Blackmarsh was, but when the line of local lords had died out, no one pressed to take the place. There was only the large Tevinter fort there, which Howe had considered restoring. Such was the dower house he had once promised Maude on her marriage to his son Thomas. Bryce must have known about Drake's Fall. Had the two men discussed the restoration of the old place, or had the subtle insult been enough to put Bryce off concluding an alliance with his nearest neighbor? It was unlikely that Loghain would ever know, now.
The wind picked up, blowing dust in little grey whirlwinds. They were moving at the speed of a normal trot now, as they sought the long-unused path.
"It must be here," Loghain muttered.
Without deigning to speak, Morrigan took to the air to see if that which was hidden below was clearer above. After a few minutes she returned, and was able to lead them to the place when the "road" forked off. It looked like more rocky waste, but Morrigan was sure this was the right way.
"I saw it clearly. This road winds through some rough terrain, but it is paler than the rest of the earth around it. I believe I saw the fortress. It has a white dome and a long wall. This is definitely the road."
Here, on the edge of the Feravel Plain, the landscape broke up into low, rocky hills and lifeless trees. An ominous stillness hung in the air. Loghain could sense darkspawn, but only dimly, as if under the ground or far away. Winds had scoured the soil away, baring the rocks underneath. Baring other things as well.
"Is that—?" Anders paused, going up to look at what was clearly not simply a rock.
"Part of the spine of a High Dragon," Maude confirmed. "A big one. Erosion must be revealing a lot of the bones that the old-time collectors never found. That's nice to know. Dragon bone is worth a lot of money. We should come back here with wagons and dig it all out. " She thought a little more. "And then we should take it up to Soldier's Peak and hold on to it for awhile. We don't want to flood the market and depress prices. Or it might even be worthwhile to hire a ship and send a load to Kirkwall. We'd make a killing."
Loghain thought about that. "I wonder if that village of ours…Breaker's Cove…has a deep enough harbor for a merchantman."
Maude liked that idea. "So we wouldn't have to pay Amaranthine tariffs? You are so clever. Oh, I hope so!"
"Er," smirked Anders, "You do know that we are actually on Amaranthine territory right now, and that all this," he kicked the huge vertebrae, "is the rightful property of the Arlessa?"
Maude stared at him blankly. Morrigan chuckled to herself.
"Finders Keepers," sang out Sigrun. Maude beamed in approval.
"As long as I get a share," Oghren grunted. "Speaking of which: is anybody in this outfit ever going to actually get paid?"
Maude frowned, puzzled. "You mean, in something other than loot?"
"Yes, you're going to be paid, Oghren," Loghain growled. He, after all, had years of experience making sure that soldiers were sufficiently motivated. "Wardens are paid stipends quarterly at Wintersend, Summersday, Funalis, and Satinalia. You Joined after Wintersend, so I can pay you a prorated amount when we return to the Warden Compound, and you'll receive your first full stipend at the end of Cloudreach." He asked the pensive Keenan, "Did you get your Wintersend payment?"
The archer glanced up, "Yes. Kristoff was very scrupulous about that. He had a box of coin he brought from Denerim—"
"Hmmph!" Maude sulked. "Coin that I raised."
"Well…thanks," said Keenan. "My wife and I really needed the money."
That mollified her considerably. "You're welcome." She pointed, "Oh, look! More dragonbone! We're going to be filthy rich!"
Above the stunted trees, past a darkly sparkling little stream, a distant dome gleamed bone-while. The path turned and twisted. At one curve, they found a dragon skull, emerging from the side of a hill. Maude rapped on it and was pleased.
"Very sound. Good quality." Beside her, Ranger growled. She looked up sharply.
Loghain felt it then: the sensation of darkspawn, much closer now. The Taint grew tense and scratchy. Morrigan changed to bird form in order to scout.
"A skirmish between darkspawn factions," she reported a little later. "A band of some dozen mixed hurlocks and gunlocks, led by an armored ogre; versus a pair of penlock archers, some eight of those ghastly insect Children, and what appears to be one of the talking darkspawn, wearing the same colors that other minion of the Mother wore. Shall we fall upon them, or take a rest and let them settle things between themselves?"
Loghain was ready for this. "We'll cross that stream and tie up the horses there, where there's water and a bit of green for them. We'll advance on foot, but let's watch our friends kill each other off, as far as possible."
Using the scrubby little bushes by the stream, Anders and Morrigan were able to construct a warding barrier to protect the horses. Keenan and the dwarves watched this, fascinated.
Anders shrugged, "It wouldn't stop anybody very determined, since all they'd have to do it uproot or destroy the bushes, but a darkspawn might not think of that. They're not all that interested in animals anyway, unless they're right in front of them."
After that, they moved cautiously along the twisting, rocky path, alert for ambushes. They skirmished periodically with small bands of darkspawn, the pattern always the same: the warring factions slaughtered each other, and the survivors were picked off by the Wardens. It was very convenient.
The insect-like Children were genuinely dangerous, and had they attacked in force, Loghain acknowledged that they could be lethal. But in threes and fours—with ranged weapons and spells to counter them? No. The desultory resistance they were meeting was not going to stop the Wardens.
Another sharp twist led them through the vast ribcage of a long-dead dragon. Maude admired the shining bone.
"You know, you could use those ribs for all sorts of things," she remarked. "Impressive door frames, or even bed posts! They could arch over and make the frame of a canopy…With lots and lots of elaborate carving."
Loghain shuddered at the thought of a dragonbone bed. He was not alone.
Before them was Drake's Fall, at last, and the entrance was not fortified. Perhaps the old Tevinters had relied on magic and a locked silverite door to keep out the savages. In front of the door was a wide circular courtyard, and on it, as if on a great stage, the war between the Mother and the Architect raged on. The Wardens rested briefly, watching the spectacle. Maude produced a bag of jerky and another of dried fruit, and the Wardens shared it out.
"What kind of fruit is this?" Sigrun asked, munching. "It's really good. Whoa!"
A talking darkspawn had sheared off a genlock's head. It flew through the air, smashing one its fellows in the face and knocking it down. The Wardens chuckled.
"Apricot," Keenan told her. "They grow them up here in the north in sheltered places."
Maude nodded dreamily, as the talking darkspawn lost an arm. "We need to have an orchard at Soldier's Peak. Loghain, wouldn't an orchard be nice?"
He crouched, his hands buried in Topaz's thick fur. She wagged her tail ecstatically. "Yes. An orchard—or two or three— is essential to self-sufficiency. Apples are the most practical, though maybe with some cherries and quinces mixed in. If you want your fancy foreign fruits, we'll have to plant them in a walled garden, and maybe prune them as espaliers to protect them from extreme frost."
Maude gazed adoringly at him, evidently in awe of his agricultural expertise. He would probably have to prune the bloody trees himself if he wanted it done right.
He rose. The only survivors were three Children, who had at last noticed the spectators and turned their way, mandibles clicking. Loghain stuffed the last two apricots in his mouth. They were dealt with by arrow and spell before they were twenty yards away. The Wardens moved on to the wide courtyard outside the door.
Ranger barked and growled, the sound trailing up to a whine. Topaz cocked her head, smelling something unfamiliar. Something bad.
"I know that smell!" Maude shouted. "Back up to that rock cut! Look up! Look up! Dragon!"
A vast bulk darkened the sky: a roar, louder than a thousand trumpets, rent the air.
Loghain reflexively ducked back under cover, cursing his lack of a bow. The creature landed, shaking the earth.
"Aim at the eyes, Keenan!" Maude shrieked,
Not just a dragon. A High Dragon. Not nearly as big as the Archdemon, but big enough, and healthy. It saw them, head jerking back on the long neck in outrage. Before it could take a step forward, Morrigan had cast a glyph of paralysis, briefly locking it in place. Loghain glared furiously at Keenan. The archer gulped, and then pulled himself together and nocked a heavy, poisoned shaft. He let fly, and then Maude clapped him on the shoulder.
"Freeze the bastard!" Maude yelled at the mages. "Now, lords to the left and ladies to the right!" It took Sigrun only a moment to understand her, and she went pounding after Maude. Loghain was already moving, divining her scheme instantly. Sound, as far as it went with their small band. The dogs, of course, ignored the symmetry of it. Topaz was charging just ahead of him, barreling at the dragon's drooping wing…
It was no Archdemon, but it was more dangerous than any creature they yet had encountered in Amaranthine: worse than the talking darkspawn, worse than the armored ogres, worse even than that Orlesian bitch the Baroness. The mages cast their glittering, ominous spells; distracting and confusing the dragon with their attacks; hexing and misdirecting it.
The dragon flamed at them, Loghain swore as the heat singed his eyebrows. The flame exhausted, Maude jumped in front of it and screamed abuse, while Sigrun and Oghren hewed at the beast's legs with their axes.
"You're going to di—eee!" Maude sang out, grinning demonically, dancing like a tongue of flame. "I'm going to sell your hide to a Kirkwall shoemaker, you chicken-brained newt!"
The fanged head darted out, horribly fast, snapping at Maude like a serpent. She twisted away, and just at that moment, Morrigan caught the dragon with an ice spell that left it motionless.
"Ha!" Maude whooped, and instantly swung up to sit on the lowered, offered neck. Settling in, she aimed, and then thrust into the spine just under the skull.
The dragon broke free of the spell and thrashed in a frenzy, trying to shake off the stinging insect plaguing it. Keenan dared not shoot at the head any longer. Morrigan ran in, targeting the front of the beast, A claw lashed out, and she was knocked backwards, only her armor saving her from disembowelment. Anders' hands crackled with lightning, and the dragon squealed in pain.
Loghain bellowed a challenge, attracting the bewildered dragon's attention. The huge eyes narrowed and it drew a deep, furious breath, preparing another blast of fire. Keenan's arrow struck its tongue: it screamed in agony instead. Maude leaned on her sword, using all her body weight…
The dragon shrieked, freezing up as if under a spell. Slowly, the long neck relaxed, and Maude jumped lightly from the head as the creature rolled to the side, dead.
"That was fun!" Maude said, wildly excited, waving her sword. "Did you see me up there, Loghain? Did you see me? I went up and down, and up and down, and I was up so high you all looked really small! I wish I could do it again, but we'll have to find another dragon, I guess."
She kissed him lightly, and he put his hands on her armored waist for a moment.
"So glad you enjoyed yourself," he managed. It was simply unbelievable how quickly she had killed a High Dragon.
"I did! It was really fun! They should do something like that at fairs, like a swing that goes up and down. I'd pay good coin for that."
"No doubt," he snorted, looking her over to see that she had taken no hurt.
The courtyard was silent once more, the bulk of the Drake's Fall reflecting the late afternoon sun. It was a vast ruin: the white domes cracked, the walls falling into rubble. Sickly vines thrust up among the stones, and weeds straggled through the pavement. It was manifest that no one had lived here in hundreds of years, and attempting to repair it would beggar even the Empress of Orlais.
Maude looked around her in disgust. "So Rendon Howe was going to send me here to live? Every time I think I've grasped how much he hated the Couslands, I am proved wrong."
"It was a noble building, once," Morrigan observed. "and far more ancient that Soldier's Peak. I would guess the old Tevinters used this fortress as a base both to gather dragonbone and to house captured barbarians for the slave trade."
"Lovely," snarked Anders.
"Interesting, though," Maude granted. "It would have been inhabited not by Tevinter magisters, but by Alamarri lords, by the time Asturian came to build Soldier's Peak. It's very likely he visited here."
Loghain thought this was all very commendably learned, but he was more concerned with the lack of resistance. The handful of darkspawn they had met were negligible. This fortress should be manned by defenders: archers on the walls; footsoldiers guarding the imperishable silverite door. He thought that with two dozen men, he could have held this place again twenty times that number.
The dragon, however, had been only the only serious defense, and it was sprawled dead on the overgrown circular courtyard, its dark blood already cooling.
All of it pointed up the fact that the darkspawn were essentially stupid, ignorant creatures. The Architect, for all his tinkering with blood and magic, knew nothing of the profession of arms. Obviously, neither did this being, the Mother. They could summons minions, but no more. It made him oddly optimistic. He gave the door a push. It swung open, unlocked and unresisting.
"Well, it's not a tower, at least," Maude sighed, her gaze sweeping the entry hall. Its ancient mosaic floor and flaking, painted walls were draped and festooned with Broodmother tendrils. The vile stench they remembered from Kal'Hirol befouled the air. "Except that it is. It's a tower that goes down instead of up. And it's full of the same old crap."
Keenan knew little about Broodmothers, and Sigrun whispered details to him in between skirmishes. He had been given the bare bones of the lore before they set out, so he had had time to take in the essential horror of it. Still, seeing the Tainted vines of flesh with one's own eyes, and feeling the moist, unwholesome matter underfoot was a challenge for anyone. He did not cringe away, however, which pleased Loghain. He merely looked disgusted and determined. Here and there, they found spongy, pulsing bags of gestating darkspawn. The mages incinerated them.
They found the misshapen grey eggs of Children as well, and dealt with them similarly. Occasionally, the larval slugs oozed out and tried to attack. Oghren took special pleasure in swinging his axe down, two-handed, and chopping them apart. The dogs pounced on the rest, ripping them to shreds. As they descended, the air grew more fetid; the thick miasma of darkspawn and disease more oppressive.
They moved along long and slender bridges, and down narrow spiral staircases. The darkspawn should have had the home advantage, but they did not. The construction of Drake's Fall made it impossible to attack the Wardens in force. The defenders were scattered, and could be destroyed piecemeal. The few talking darkspawn they encountered appeared to have little control over the hurlocks who fought besides them, and absolutely no control over the Children at all.
At the foot of yet another contested staircase, they fought a stone golem and a mob of genlocks. The golem required some care, but toppled over with a resounding crash, cracked from top to bottom. Everyone took a deep breath and reached for their canteens, where the air was stirred, and the dogs began barking wildly.
On a broken ledge above them stood a tall and grotesque figure. Almost man-like, though somewhat…melted. He was tall: as tall as Loghain, a long, corpse-pale, attenuated figure in something resembling mage's robes, but filthy and grotesque. Loghain realized instantly who this must be, even before Anders spoke.
"Crap, it's him. Trying to make a grand entrance, I suppose. Ponce."
The dogs crouched to spring, growling."Heel," Loghain commanded. "Wait." The growls softened, just a little, and the dogs obeyed.
An arrow from Keenan's bow was already flying at the Architect. At the last moment it was knocked aside by a casual wave of the creature's hands. He spread his arms and began floating down, landing easily a few yards from the Wardens. His attempt to impress was spoiled by Maude, yelling and pointing past him.
"And there's that bitch Velanna!" A slender blonde elf was creeping down the staircase beside a dwarf swordswoman. The dwarf was clearly Tainted, and had been for some time: eyes white and glazed, her skin covered with dark lesions. For all that, she looked strong, and in possession of wit enough to fight. The elf, too, was showing ominous signs of change: not much, but enough to set Loghain's nerves tingling unpleasantly. The tainted dwarf woman drew her sword.
In the most mellow, soothing tones, the Architect calmed her. "No, Utha," he urged, "That is not how this must begin." The persuasive, tainted honey of his voice set Loghain's nerves jangling. He had plenty of experience with Maude's tricks, and the very idea of this loathsome creature imagining that he could bend the Grey Wardens to his will set Loghain's teeth on edge.
The Architect faced Loghain, and spoke with mild regret. "I intended to explain myself to you earlier, Commander. Fate, however, intervened, and we did not have the opportunity to communicate."
"Loghain," Maude snarled, "that piece of darkspawn shit saw me NAKED!"
Studying Maude impassively, the creature said, "I restrained you only to prevent exactly the kind of misunderstanding that took place at Vigil's Keep. I sent the Withered to speak to the Grey Wardens, and your people perceived it as an attack. I am rarely able to predict how your kind will react. It was most unfortunate."
"'Unfortunate?'" Anders echoed, incredulous and indignant.
"Yeah," grunted Oghren, "the kind of 'unfortunate' that ends up with a pile of dead people. I get that a lot."
Maude growled, "And then the darkspawn slaughtered everyone in sight, and dragged Wardens back to you to be tortured by your foul experiments—"
"The Grey Wardens who were brought to me were already dead—"
Keenan and Maude exploded simultaneously.
"—That's a lie!"
"—What a fib!"
The Architect ignored them, evidently considering Loghain the only individual worthy of his notice. "I only wish that you hear me out, Commander. Should you still wish to slay me afterward, you may try."
Maude rolled her eyes at Morrigan. "No 'trying' about it..."
The architect went on, "My kind has even been drawn to the Call of the Old Gods. Their Song compels my kind to search for them, to make contact: the very contact that Taints the Old Gods and turns them into Archdemons. The Archdemons then rise and lead the darkspawn to the surface in what you term a Blight. Your kind fights back until we are defeated. To break the cycle, my brethren must be freed of this compulsion. For that, I need Grey Warden blood. Introducing your blood into one of my kind breaks their link to the Call. Just as you need our blood to become what you are, we need your blood to be free. You take in our Taint, and are transformed. What we take from you is your resistance. I do not seek to rule my kind, only to free them of their chains."
"It would seem," Loghain pointed out, "that not all your kind wish to be free."
"Some react poorly," the Architect admitted. "They are flawed, and rage against me. The Mother gathers them to her, poisoning their minds."
Loghain watched the dwarf and elf creeping down the stairs from the corner of his eye. "Who is the Mother?" he probed.
Thinking this human more rational than the rest, the Architect answered, with a heavy sigh. "My greatest mistake. Freedom drove her mad, and she has influence on those yet unfree. I cannot defeat the Mother alone."
"You're not going to listen to this joker, are you?" Oghren protested. "He touched my junk! No one touches Oghren's junk and—"
"We know that," Loghain interrupted, "and it's a great personal comfort to me. So," he said to the Architect, "you wish to make some sort of common cause with us against the Mother. It's not unheard of for someone to use one enemy to kill another."
Voice rich with sincerity, the Architect assured him, "I am not your enemy—"
"That's bullshit!" Maude declared, rosy pink and outraged. "Of course you are! You locked us up! You stole our clothes and gave them to unwashed ghouls! My gambeson still reeks! You stole my blood and used it without my permission! You smashed Keenan's knees! You sent your minions to Vigil's Keep to slaughter the Wardens and every other bystander that could lay their slimy Tainted claws on! And by the way, explain to me how having intelligent darkspawn to fight is somehow better for us!"
Loghain smirked at the Architect, enjoying Maude's rant. He hoped the creature would let slip something more of its agenda, but there was no doubt in his mind what the outcome of their confrontation would be.
"By the way, hello to you too, Velanna," Maude snorted. "Tell me, have your sister and her boyfriend here made you an aunt yet? Enjoying the patter of hundreds of little darkspawn feet, are you?"
"Don't you dare talk about my sister, dirty shemlen!" Velanna screeched.
Sigrun groaned. "That voice! I remember that voice!"
"You know," Anders said, thinking it over. "Velanna does her hair just like you do, Morrigan."
The witch glared at the blonde elf, mortally offended. She narrowed her eyes, considering curses…
The Architect paid them no notice, and continued to speak to Loghain in the tones of one persevering in the face of undeserved attacks, "We must set aside our differences for the greater good. The Mother is a threat to us both—"
"All right, cased closed!" Maude snapped. "You know what? You really are a complete and utter moron, you stupid fucker. You tinker and smash things like a baby with a set of blocks. You have no insight, no understanding, no comprehension of consequences. You experimented on a captive woman, didn't you? Did you rape her yourself like Seranni, or did you set your minions on her by the dozens? It doesn't matter now, I suppose, What matters is that once she's twisted and Tainted and an object of horror, you generously give her the poisoned gift of self-awareness." Her breath hissed over her teeth like a dragon about to flame. "How the fucking fuck did you expect that to go well? " she screamed. "Did you expect her to thank you for letting her know she was a monster? Of course she's batshit crazy! It would make any woman crazy! The fact that you didn't know that it would proves that you are too stupid to fucking live!"
The Architect considered her words, puzzled. "Interesting. I shall remember not to attempt it in future. It was a most unfortunate reaction, and quite unexpected. You seem offended by the process, but it is how the darkspawn multiply. It is our nature from time immemorial." He turned to Loghain, ignoring Maude once more. "But that is no reason that we cannot come to an understanding. The Old God Urthemiel was likewise insensible to reason, but it now destroyed, due to your efforts. In the same way—"
Loghain blew out a breath, seeing it all in a flash.
Maude was instantly in the creature's face, enraged.
"I don't think the Mother was your 'greatest mistake' at all! You were the one who got to the Old God first! You dicked around with things you didn't understand! You started the Blight, didn't you, you nitwit?"
"Commander," the Architect said in a pained voice, "I realize how difficult it can be to control one's minions, but I must insist. Once the Mother is gone, I shall take my followers and there will be no more Blights. We can find a way to coexist and even work together in a spirit of cooperation—"
"—I see," Loghain considered, with the briefest glance at Maude. She paused, on the verge of eruption, understanding him. "We kill your enemy for you, and let you go, and everything is thus settled peacefully."
The Architect bowed in assent. His women looked smug.
Loghain went on. "Of course, you'll have to continue to steal and rape women on a regular basis to keep up your numbers, but we should understand and respect the ancient traditions of your kind. Unfortunately—" he sneered, "there's no guarantee that you can even perform what you promise, since your success rate at controlling other darkspawn so far is not particularly impressive—"
"Minion, indeed!" hissed Maude. In the blink of a hurlock's eye, her sword was buried in the scrawny belly of the Architect, and her dagger in his neck. The creature stared at Maude, surprised. Velanna screeched in outrage.
Several things happened at once. The dogs charged the Architect, who retaliated with a blast of power that knocked everyone in the room off their feet. Maude went flying past Loghain, and landed with a crash, weaponless. The Architect pulled out Maude's weapons and tossed them aside. The dogs yipped shrilly and were up, scrambling, attacking again. Loghain launched himself from the floor, crouched low, sword out in front him, hacking at the Architect's legs. He was knocked back by another concussive spell that set his ears ringing. Behind him he heard Oghren shout, and a violent clash of axe against sword as he confronted the dwarf woman Utha. Morrigan cried out in triumph, shrilling a counterpoint to the elf's shriek. An arrow struck the Architect with a meaty thunk, buried deep in the creature's jaw.
The room glowed red with fell magic. Loghain winced, and put up his shield against a blast of fire. Anders was casting, but the Architect countered the spells, chanting in his maddeningly smooth voice. Anders dropped to his knees, head drooping. Sigrun fell back, stumbling, and then darted away, her pair of axes awhirl.
Topaz braved the fire and leaped at the Architect, jaws clamping onto his left hand. The darkspawn fired a quick, crackling curse at the dog. She squealed in pain, her fur burnt away in a red smoking patch. Ranger snarled, ramming the darkspawn from behind, knocking his legs out from under him. Anders cast an ice spell that froze both of them in place. Loghain shook himself, and felt a hand briefly brush his shoulder as Maude vaulted over him, her eating knife thudding into the Architect's face. An undignified yowl, and the staff was lifted once more, while Maude dove for her sword.
Loghain struck. With a backhand sweep, the Architect's staff was sheered in two. It clattered to the stones, and with it fell the creature's right arm. After that, it was nearly over.
Morrigan had rushed up, her face terrifying, screaming a curse that turned the air cold and sick. Loghain slammed the creature with his shield, smashing the distorted face into a bloody ruin, while Maude launched herself at him from behind. Her sword burst out of the Architect's ribs like a living thing. She kicked at him with an armored boot, yanking her weapon free.
"Out of the way!" Loghain roared, looking for an opening. The Keening Blade wailed as if sliced through the Architect skull slantwise. The top slid away wetly. From behind him, Loghain heard Sigrun's mewl of disgust. The brain of the Architect was exposed, pink and grey. Blood throbbed out in a few slow spurts, and then only trickled. The Architect toppled sideways, dead.
Maude laughed as she retrieved her dagger from the floor, and her knife from the Architect's face. "The Architect is now literally a half-wit!"
"Very funny," Anders grunted. Morrigan crouched over him, muttering the only healing spell she knew. Loghain took a look at his people. Maude was bruised but cheerful. Her armor, however, had been dented and damaged, and the left pauldron was torn away. She scowled, fussing with the tattered strap. Keenan sat on one of the lower steps, nursing a bleeding bicep. Beyond him, Oghren, his red beard blackened with mage fire, was searching the slaughtered dwarf woman for loot. Her chest was caved in by what could only have been the powerful blow of an axe.
"Nice sword," Oghren declared. "Hey, Keenan! This is good dragonbone. Nice and light. Maybe you could use a decent blade when the baddies get in your face."
Keenan managed a smile. "I'll think about it."
"My head hurts," Sigrun whispered. Quite abruptly, she bent over and vomited. Anders frowned in concern, and pushed himself up to come and have a look at her.
Anders and Morrigan were busy for some time, dealing with the injuries to the party. Topaz's burns were treated, leaving a big hairless patch on her neck. Ranger licked at it solicitously.
It would be impossible to move until everyone was healed and rested. The Taint scraped at his nerves, but Loghain told them all to stay here, in this chamber. Nothing seemed to be coming their way. Anders cast a rejuvenation spell at him, and Loghain instantly felt more himself.
Maude too, was looking better. "The Architect and his minions had pretty amazing loot, when all's said and done," she told him. She was at work picking the lock of an old bronze chest, long gone green with verdigris.
Morrigan was not so impressed. She sneered down at the dead Velanna, eyeing an amulet critically, and then tucking it away in her belt pouch. "The enchantments on what she might have called robes are useless in this environment. Fool."
"I wonder what happened to her sister," said Sigrun. "She didn't seem so bad. She gave us the key to our cell, after all. Do you think—?"
"Probably," Maude shrugged, her attention on her lockpicks. "She's breeding—or about to breed—but not here, I'd guess. The Architect probably stashed her somewhere else secure. We'll just have to be vigilant for rumors of darkspawn sightings." Her efforts were rewarded at last. The lid of the chest was lifted back, squeaking a protest, and the treasures within were revealed. Maude murmured happily, her fingers questing through old gold coin and various jeweled ornaments.
"Perhaps," Loghain considered, "the Architect did as he said he was planning to do, and took her far below, where her offspring will never see the light of day."
"Bastard," Keenan muttered, gathering his arrows.
"You're absolutely right," Maude agreed. She rose gracefully, and went over to peer at the Architect's repulsive corpse. She kicked it with a vicious smile. "I wish we could kill him again."
Loghain snorted, and dug into the treasure chest. "Forget about the Architect. We still have the Mother to deal with. Here, Maude: have a nice ruby,"
She caught the jewel deftly with one hand, laughing. She held it up to her eye. "Ooo! Everything looks red. Or redder. With so much blood spattered everywhere it's hard to tell the difference!"
They rested a little more, and drank sparingly from their canteens. After another hour or so, they moved out.
The spiral staircase went down and down. More of the Mother's Children attacked them, squealing and skittering on the stones. At the lowest level, they found themselves in a round chamber that at first appeared to be without doors. Stinking and hideously spongy, Broodmother matter snaked over the floor and up the walls. The sensation of nearby darkspawn was overpowering. Loghain grimaced, peering into the shadows.
"This can't be the end…" muttered Sigrun. "Did we miss a passage?"
"No," Maude drawled, pointing. "There it is."
"Oh. No…" Morrigan groaned.
Loghain turned and saw what they were looking at. A mass of moist red tissue pulsed on the wall before them. A puckering in the center looked something like—
Oghren took a breath and declared, "That is the world's dirtiest, ugliest cu—"
"Do not say it!" Morrigan snapped.
Anders was nonplussed. "You don't think that's the way through? Do you?"
Maude cocked her head, nose twitching in disgust. She whispered to Loghain, "I really hope mine doesn't look like that."
"Don't be ridiculous," he said brusquely. This loathsome mockery of a woman's private parts was surely simply an accident… "Yes, of course it's the way through. We can all sense darkspawn in that direction."
"Well, there's nothing for it," Maude said, squaring her shoulders. "Once more into the breach, dear friends…" Sword in hand, she slid sideways through the slimy, narrow opening. Ranger was after her, and Topaz after him.
One by one, they squeezed through the repulsive passage. The fetid tissue pressed in on them, clinging and sucking at them wetly. For a brief moment, Loghain was encased on all sides—a truly terrifying moment of darkness and stench—before emerging, slimed and stinking, into a vast cavern. Oghren popped out a moment later behind him, stumbling and cursing.
"By the Stone! Nearly got stuck in there. That's enough to put me off sex for life!" He caught Loghain's skeptical look and shrugged. "Today, anyway."
This place truly was enormous, lit by phosphorescent lichen and by cracks in the stony roof. Stalactites and stalagmites met and formed twisted columns. Clearly, this chamber had once been an important part of Drake's Fall. In the dim shadows, Loghain could make out the unmistakable shape of a Tevinter statue. Elaborately carved pillars plunged into empty air like rotten teeth, or lay in rubble among the ribs of long-dead dragons. Loghain moved forward to stand by Maude, and saw what she was looking at.
Perhaps a hundred yards away, at the end of a long and narrow stone pathway, was something that resembled a nest. At first, Loghain thought that he was seeing tall plants swaying in a breeze. Then he looked again and realized what it was.
The Broodmother was waiting, massive tentacles waving lazily to and fro. Lining the pathway were dozens of her misshapen grey eggs. Peering into the shadows, Loghain saw no hurlocks or genlocks; no talking darkpawn; no larval or mature children. The Broodmother was alone, but for this last, monstrous clutch of eggs.
At Kal'Hirol, the stench from the Broodmother pit had been nauseating. Here, the reek of horror and despair filled their mouths and lungs, seeped through their armor, burned into their flesh. It was death. It was darkspawn. It was everything that was female, defiled and perverted.
"Keenan," Loghain said quietly. "I want you to remain at the rear with Anders while we approach that creature. The eggs may hatch. If they do, they must be destroyed." He thought a second more and discreetly pointed to the left. "The two of you, move around to the side of the cavern…there. If the eggs hatch or we are otherwise attacked, you can shoot arrows and spells freely without us being in your way. "
Anders murmured. "I'll want to incinerate those eggs, whatever happens."
"Wait," Loghain ordered. "I'll try to speak to the creature. We need to know if it commands any forces elsewhere—and if so, where they are. When she attacks, destroy all her spawn immediately."
"'When she attacks?' Is there any chance she's not going to attack?" Anders asked, looking hopeful.
Loghain snorted, and turned away. He gathered the rest of the Wardens, and together, they approached the monstrosity.
Atop the hill of flesh was the human remnant of the Broodmother. Graceful shoulders tapered away into blackened, withered arms. A slender waist widened into a shapeless mass bearing multiple pairs of breasts, each larger than the one above. As the Wardens advanced, the creature roused from its lethargy and lifted its head.
Loghain paused, hearing Maude's quick, frightened gasp. This was indeed no mindless monster. The Mother looked at them, its dark eyes both mad and comprehending, and it saw them and their purpose.
Yes, she had been human. And she had been lovely, once. Long dark hair clung wetly to Tainted skin. The first pair of breasts-her own-were distractingly perfect. She had been young when she was taken. Dark trails traveled down from her eyes, the tracks of bloody tears. Filth caked her chin. The mouth opened, not to scream, but to speak: the harsh and broken voice of an old, old woman issuing from the ruins of a fair and youthful face.
"If it isn't the hero of the hour!" the Mother cackled, grinning horribly at Loghain. "The slayer of the mighty Father, come to claim a reward! Oh, what a delicious day!" The filthy mouth smirked, as she cocked her head, curious. "Has the Grey Warden come to slay the Mother, too? Will she join the Father in oblivion?"
Maude cleared her throat. "The...Father? Do you mean the Architect?"
The Mother gestured dismissively with a claw-like hand. "He called himself that, but that did not change what he was. He said he wanted to free us, but all he gave us was silence." The cracked voice dropped to a hiss. "Dreadful...silence." Dreamily, she murmured, "Once we heard the beautiful Song, and we were at peace. He took that away...took that away..." She gazed on them: her beautiful eyes gleaming with blood and fire. "But now the Father is gone. The Mother can take her children deep into the dark, and care for them, safe and sound."
Maude stepped forward, her voice soft. "What is your name?"
The Broodmother stared her, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Your name?" Maude persisted. "Your real name, before your were taken by the darkspawn…"
"Taken?" The word was croaked out, hoarse as a raven. "Yes…I was taken…held down in the dark. Why do you make me remember such things? The Father was cruel, too… Such pain… They crowded me, smothered me…filled my body…my mouth…Such pain…they fed me meat, cramming it down my throat… I tried to spit it out, tried to turn my head, but after a time, the Song came, and I was at peace…"
"But what is your name?" Maude repeated.
"I am the Mother!"
"Yes, I'm sure you are," Maude answered, her voice soothing. "I'm sure you're a very good mother, too, to be so concerned for your children. You had children before, didn't you? They were taken, too, weren't they?"
"She does not remember…no…the first children…the Mother has grown strong, and her new children are strong, too…better…stronger…harder to kill…" Her head drooped, and she murmured, "The Song. We want the Song. Perhaps when the Mother is dead, she will hear the Song once more. Oh, let it come!"
"When you are dead," Maude spoke gently into the tense silence, "Your soul will be free of the horror done to you. It will rise to the Maker, and nothing will be held against you, for it was not your fault. You will see your children—your true children-once more. What were their names?"
The Mother glanced up, eyes burning and crafty. "The Mother knows your ways. Oh, yes. You wish to kill her…kill her children…"
The whispers dwindled into silence. The Mother took a deep breath, and shrieked, "But she won't let you!"
Another shriek: a shriek so terrible that they were stunned, shocked, made senseless. The Mother's mouth opened wide, split four ways into a horror. She shrieked again, and then spat out a cloud of green poison.
Morrigan had crept up beside Maude, and was caught by the brunt of it. Her eyes rolled back and her breath seized up. For a horrible instant Loghain thought she would die then and there, but Maude dragged her away, and then was knocked aside by a massive tentacle.
It was a nightmare struggle. Loghain had thought the creature helpless, because it was immobile; had thought the tentacles would be as easily dealt with as those in Kal'Hirol. He had been wrong.
Later, he remembered this battle only in flashes. He remembered Oghren smashed against the stones, head first, lying as still as broken toy; Sigrun swarmed by hatching grubs, arms up to protect her face; Maude dodging and slashing, trying to cut her way through the tough tentacles, hard and dense as any dragon leather. There was Anders, setting the grubs afire, and the flames licking at them all; the dogs howling and baying as they tore at the Children, ripping them into twitching ooze; the hard, quick thunk of Keenan's arrows. Then there was Morrigan, rising, coughing, screaming back at the Mother, cursing a black, foul cloud of death on the creature.
He kept hacking, hacking; hacking at the mountain of flesh, trying to find a way to wound the invulnerable creature. The Mother spat more poison at him, and he sheltered behind his shield. He lowered it, and saw the Mother's eyes glaring at him, crazed and murderous. Then Maude was up, vaulting up over the sagging lower breasts, stabbing at the slender neck. A razor-sharp claw slashed out, ripping through her cuirass like a knife through a silk chemise. Maude pulled away, and the armor hung crazily, tripping her as she felt backwards, landing hard. Loghain roared and drove his sword into the massive body once more. The Mother shrieked on.
It seemed to last as long as the battle with the Archdemon; but here they were alone, under the earth, with no allies to support them, and no admiring public to applaud their efforts. This battle was a secret: one for only Wardens and the Mother herself.
Sigrun gave a yell as she cut through the tendons of a tentacle at last, and the thing curled in on itself like a dead insect. Morrigan froze another, and smashed at it, again and again, until it moved no more.
Maude stumbled up, the shreds of Sophia's Dryden's armor clanking to the stones, and dashed past him, parrying the Mother's claws. She cut off the appalling shrieking with a sword thrust that nailed the creature's tongue to the roof of her mouth.
The Mother's huge dark eyes widened in human fear and horror. Maude gritted her teeth, clenched her sword hilt, and twisted.
Bloody gurgles choked out of the torn mouth. Maude twisted her sword again.
"Maker watch over you," she ground out. "It's... not...your fault."
A violent tremor shook the Broodmother, and she slumped forward, withered arms limp, blood drooling down her bloated body. It was over.
Maude collapsed to her knees, pooling bonelessly on the stones of the lair. "I think we're done here," she murmured. "I hope we're done here. I'm really tired…" She lay on her side, knees drawn up, silent and exhausted.
Anders downed another lyrium potion, and shot a healing spell her way.
Loghain wiped the blood from Topaz's face, and then from his own. Ranger trotted over to Maude, nosing at her and whining. His right hind leg was not quite right.
"Anders!" Loghain caught the mage's attention, and pointed at the dog.
"He's next," Anders promised.
Sigrun pulled off her ruined greaves, and let Anders heal her legs where the Childer grubs had gnawed on them. Keenan helped Oghren remove his dented helmet. The dwarf was nearly cross-eyed from his concussion. Anders limped among his patients, one by one, setting them right.
Maude made no attempt to loot the Mother's lair. Instead, she clambered up from her hands and knees, and stumbled over to Morrigan, who was lying on the filthy stones, recovering from the poison that had nearly shut down her lungs. Ranger sprawled wearily on his side, close to them.
Loghain had a look about. The cavern stretched out as if into infinity, but none of them were in any condition to go exploring. If the Mother had had more darkspawn in reserve, they would have attacked by now. He reached out with his Warden's sense...and felt nothing. A few yards from the Mother, swept away into a little depression, were some discarded rags and something with a faint, metallic gleam. He bent to pick it up, and found that it was a little gold amulet of Andraste, the engraving old and worn. Tangled in its snapped leather thong were necklets of wooden beads—the kind worn by children. He held them in his hand for a while, thinking.
All the eggs they could find were burned. Loghain considered camping overnight in the Mother's stinking nest a remarkably bad idea. The women, especially, seemed out of spirits. There might be an exit to the Deep Roads through the cavern—in fact, there almost certainly was— but it would take some time to find it, and they did not know where it would lead. Topaz brushed against his legs, urging him to go no farther.
He came back and hunkered down by Maude, who was staring blankly at the dead Mother. Her dirty face betrayed the white trails of tears. He dropped the pitiful relics into her hand. "These might be a clue to the woman's identity."
"Possibly," She peered at them. "We can ask around, but very likely we'll never know her name." She cleared her throat, and said, "I suppose it's good...in a way...to know the absolutely worst thing that can happen to you, and face it."
He squeezed her hand. Morrigan snorted, and turned her head away.
"No, really..." Maude insisted. "Sometimes you just have to know how bad it could actually be. That poor woman—"
"Right," Oghren scoffed, wincing at the pain in his head. "The 'poor woman' who nearly handed us our arses. Yeah, yeah, I understand. 'S'not her fault she was captured and turned."
"No. it wasn't her fault. It could happen to any woman. It could happen to me. It would be a terrible thing..." Maude said, wrestling with the idea, "to be a prisoner of your own body. It would be even more terrible to be unaware of it. Worst of all is to know you're a monster, and not to be able to do anything about it. I wonder if any of the Architect's disciples understand what he did to make them sentient. If so, we might see this again. If not, they'll either go hide in the Deep Roads, or we see individual menaces from time to time. But the Broodmothers are the greatest threat. We really should make a point of hunting them down, and destroying all of them we can."
"How many Broodmothers are there? How many darkspawn can one Broodmother...make? I mean, how long do you suppose they live?" wondered Sigrun.
"Well," Oghren shrugged, "how long do darkspawn live, for that matter? I've never found anybody that knew. I suppose we could capture one and stow it in a dungeon at Soldier's Peak, and see what happens."
"Keep it as a pet, you mean?" Anders managed.
"More of a...test subject," Morrigan replied, remembering the term from Avernus' use of it.
"We're not doing that," Loghain said flatly, quashing the idea before it could gain support. "Darkspawn carry disease, and there will be people other than Wardens at Soldier's Peak. Beside, the darkspawn filth will undoubtedly spill out and spoil Maude's carefully laid plans for the decor."
"There is that," Maude agreed, still pensive. "Mind you, all of Sigrun's questions are good ones, and need answering."
Once they could all walk, they wanted desperately to leave this place. Maude paused, and asked Morrigan, "Can we burn her?"
"The Broodmother?" Morrigan eyed the mountain of dead flesh in disgust. "Twould take an effort, and create a great deal of smoke."
"I'd really like you to burn her," Maude insisted. "She used to be human. She shouldn't have to be in that horrible body anymore. I want her set free."
"I'll help," Anders sighed. "We'll need to leave when she really gets going, though. All that fat..."
Keenan looked sick, "Please...just don't."
Loghain got them together, and frowned at Maude, who was defiantly clutching the shattered remains of Sophia Dryden's armor to her chest. This was no time to argue with her, so he passed by. "Do it," he ordered the mages.
Bright yellow flames roared out, and swirled around the remains of the Mother. While they watched, the flames took hold and a horrible stink of scorched flesh filled the chamber.
"Move out," Loghain ordered, and led the way, glancing over his shoulder briefly for a glimpse of a vast body, withering in flame.
Back it was through the horrible birth canal, wincing as the wings of his helmet caught on the vile dead tissue. They made it out, one by one: a dismal group, reeking with Broodmother slime. Maude stamped up the steps, her ruined armor scraping and clanking with her every movement
"So much for my dower house," she muttered.
Up the steps, past the corpses of darkspawn and the remains of Utha and Velanna, now only two more dead ghouls. Maude paused, and then walked over to the grisly remnant of the Architect, and kicked him again. Hard.
At last they reached the great silverite door, standing invitingly open. Night air greeted them, blessedly cool and fresh. The dogs nearly knocked them over, wanting to be outside. Immediately they began rolling in the dust, and then ran about like crazed puppies. It was a long, dark, and silent walk back to the horses. Morrigan stumbled, grew impatient, and flew the rest of the way.
"Show-off," muttered Oghren.
"We'll have to make camp," Loghain said. "We can't possibly travel in the dark without at least one of the horses breaking a leg."
They had been forced to travel light, so they had no tents, no blankets other than horsecloths, and nothing to cook with. They at least had their dry rations, and the stream was drinkable. Within minutes, a fire was burning, their armor was removed, and Anders took another look at their wounds—after Morrigan took a look at his.
"You may as well throw that cuirass away, Maude," Loghain pointed out. "It's beyond repair."
"I love this armor," Maude said bitterly. "It was gorgeous."
Oghren grunted, helpfully direct. "It's trash now. 'Cept for the boots. Toss it."
Sigrun was determinedly cheerful. "We found tons of armor in that mine! Remember that black armor? It was really nice."
Loghain answered for Maude, as her pulled her close by his side to warm her. "It doesn't have griffons on it." He did not mention the magnificent set of Archdemon armor waiting for her at the compound. She already knew about that, and he did not want to upset her further, since she seemed to have taken against it.
The dogs snuggled close. Loghain was tired, and grateful for the warmth.
"All our armor got pretty bashed," Sigrun said after she had chewed through some jerky. "Except for Loghain and Morrigan's armor. That stood up really well."
"'Tis made from the Archdemon," Morrigan told her. "And there is more of the Archdemon left. Maude has an entire set of Archdemon armor in the Compound in Denerim. "
Loghain sighed. Morrigan would never learn tact.
"Wow," Sigrun breathed, "Archdemon armor."
"So…" Keenan winced over his bruises, and shifted his position gingerly. "Is it possible…"
Maude was still not talking, curled up between him and Ranger, so Loghain answered, "Yes, everyone gets Archdemon armor as long as it lasts. Anders," he said, with a grimace at the blond mage's remaining rags. "you need proper armor, too. Morrigan can advise you, as that armor of hers was of her own devising. Mere robes, however strongly enchanted, are not sufficient for dealing with regular darkspawn, much less the things we faced today."
Anders only grunted. The lad did not look particularly well. A blow across the ribs from one of the tentacles had done a lot of damage.
"However," Loghain took the plunge, feeling he must say something, "You all performed brilliantly today. We slew a High Dragon, an intelligent darkspawn mage—"
Maude snorted in contempt.
"-and a mad Broodmother. Any of those victories is a deed of extraordinary note. And we are all alive and largely unscathed. Yes, everyone here will have a set of Archdemon armor…and," he added, glancing down at Maude, who had subsided, half-asleep against his shoulder, "fifty sovereigns, in addition to a share in the loot of the Architect's mine." Maude made no protest, so she was either asleep or actually agreed with him.
There was a disbelieving silence, eventually broken by Oghren. "Fifty sovereigns? Gold sovereigns? Are you kidding me? Can the Wardens afford that?"
"Yes" Maude murmured sleepily. "Considering the coin we got from Orlais and Ostwick, we can certainly afford it. And everyone here deserves it. I'll crack open the pay chest when we get back to Vigil's Keep. Fifty sovereigns. That's a nice number."
"—and the stipend thingy too?" Oghren asked cautiously. Sigrun punched him.
"Yes, the stipend, of course," Loghain replied, wishing he could sleep. Someone had to stay on guard, even with their magical wards. "You would be due the stipend in any case."
"I've never had a piece of gold," Sigrun murmured in the contemplative silence. "In the Legion we're not supposed to have anything."
"Well," Loghain shrugged, glancing down at Maude, who was now snoring, very softly, "the Grey Wardens seem to believe in having quite a bit."
Maude was a bit more herself after her long sleep. Once the sun was up, cheerful and golden, she busied herself with saddling the horses. Their foodstuffs were exhausted, so it would be a hungry ride back to Amaranthine.
Loghain was painstakingly putting out their campfire when Maude stalked over, and spoke up.
"I have something to say, here where no outsiders can hear us. When I became a Warden, nobody told me much of anything. I knew I was supposed to fight darkspawn, but that was it. Grey Wardens have secrets layered on secrets, and I think it's ridiculous how the First Warden keeps us in the dark. This whole Calling thing, for example, seems very, very dodgy to me. I see no sense whatever in sending Wardens to the darkspawn, just so they can be made into powerful ghouls or Broodmothers."
Keenan protested this mildly. "We can't very well stay and run amok…"
"I agree," Maude nodded. "But there are sensible things one can do that are nice and painless. I understand the importance of being considerate and not upsetting the ignorant public or distressing one's fellow Wardens. Personally, I think an overdose of a sleeping draught, or a swallow of Quiet Death would be much more considerate to all concerned. Or arranging a hunting or riding accident, though that can go wonky. That's what I intend to do if I start turning all ghoulish. Just so everyone knows, and no one starts throwing a Going to Orzammar party for me. Not going to happen. And I strongly advise the same for all you, especially my sister Wardens. And that's what I have to say. So there."
"I have not the slightest intention of having a Calling at all," Morrigan declared. "I believe Avernus' improved Joining formula prevents Callings. Once we return to Soldier's Peak, I shall recreate Avernus' Joining potion, and distribute it to all who have not already had doses."
Sigrun finished buckling her battered armor, and considered their words. "Of course, I'm already dead anyway—at least legally. I have to agree that I'd do anything to avoid becoming a Broodmother. We're going to be in the Deep Roads a lot, probably, so if it ever looks like I'm going to be carried off by the darkspawn, can somebody please shoot me?"
"You're not going to be carried off by the darkspawn," Maude told her fiercely. "I won't allow it. None of us are joining the other team. If I see darkspawn trying to carry you off, I'll kill them all. How about that? Does that sound reasonable?"
"Reasonable for you," Morrigan laughed.
Thanks to my reviewers: Josie Lange, Enaid Adernyn, sizuka2, Phygmalion, mille libri, Jyggilag, Kira Kyuuketsuki, JackOfBladesX, Judy, KCousland, Shakespira, Menamebephil, Zute Tyanilth, Angurvddel, mutive, Jenna53, Eva Galana, Iapetus, Lehni, and Graffiti My Soul. Yay! I'm done with Awakenings! No the story is not anywhere near over. I have at least one more story arc to complete, and maybe more. I really am considering sending Maude off to Kirkwall to peddle her dragon bits. It is entirely possible that she could bring back a Warden. Haven't decided whether it would be Carver or Bethany, though.