A/N: So it only took me 3 weeks to update this time, getting close to being back to the biweekly updates! I will try very hard to make sure the next chapter is up in two weeks!
As always, thanks to those who've favorited, followed, and read. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, though I'd love to hear personally from you too!
Special thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter: AnnabelleHawke022812, Candle in the Night, and Valtharia. I'm glad you all took the time to review!
On that note: 150th REVIEWER GETS A GIFT FIC SO PLEASE REVIEW! It really helps to motivate me! Even just "I like it, keep going" would be great! Or if you want to mention particular things you liked, didn't like, what stood out, things you'd like to see, etc. It would mean a lot!
Note before you read the chapter: this one is pretty heavy/intense for obvious reasons (Dead Trenches/darkspawn). Also, the first part contains smut, so if you don't want to read, please skip down to the first break. Everything after that is plot. It will probably take at least two more chapters to get fully through Orzammar, a little more than I expected but there's a lot to fit in here. Hope you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Bioware owns its original character/dialogues, everything else including Ayla is mine.
Chapter 37: Heart of the Darkness
They were only one night out from reaching the Trenches when Alistair had the worst darkspawn nightmare he'd had yet. He'd been plagued with them every night since leaving Ortan Thaig, and they had grown steadily worse the closer they'd gotten to the Trenches. Every nightmare had been filled with images of his friends being killed in front of him by the archdemon or the darkspawn as he was helpless to save them, Ayla always dying last just before he managed to reach her. This night, she had been literally ripped to pieces in front of him, and he had felt her blood splash his face as her screams rang in his ears before he had finally woken up. She had screamed, begged for him to help her and he hadn't been able to.
He woke up clutching the hilt of his sword so hard he could feel his gauntlets breaking the skin, making his hand bleed from the tightness of his grip, but he was able to keep from screaming, at the very least. He dropped his sword, flexing his hand as he looked at Ayla, who lay sleeping only a few feet away. He had not laid down right next to her earlier when he came off watch so as not to disturb her when he did have the nightmare, for even she couldn't chase them away right now. He could see, though, that she was obviously fine, and yet he was desperate with the need to reassure himself she was still alive.
For reasons he didn't fully understand, he could only think of one way to do that right now. He needed to feel her, to have her wrapped around him. He needed release, he needed something to distract him from the crushing, sickening pressure on his spine and head, from the blinding pain, from the nightmare images swimming through his brain. He needed her, desperately, and he could no longer wait.
He slid quietly and carefully across the few feet separating them, and her eyes flashed open instantly as he did so. They flared suddenly in the small light coming from Aedan's lamp where he kept watch, looking much like Striker's eyes would in the darkness, and he realized she must be using her shifting abilities to see better in the dark. "Alistair? What's wrong?" she asked sleepily, sitting up slightly.
"I need you," he replied baldly, breathing out the words so quietly only her ears would pick it up. He was half afraid she would question it or deny him, but she must have seen the desperation in his eyes, for she merely nodded and stood up.
He reached for his sword and stood up with her, incredibly grateful that she had agreed without question. As she walked past him, she whispered, "I saw a spot a little ways back that should work."
He followed her as she headed toward the entrance of the cave in which their party slept. Aedan stood at the entrance with his lamp, his back to them, and Striker lying on the ground at his side. Ayla went to him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded in response, and bent down to Striker, saying quietly, "Go with them, boy. Look after them."
The dog rose fluidly to his feet, wagging his stub of a tail in response, and followed as Ayla left the cave, turning left to go back the way they'd come. Alistair went after them, unable to look Aedan in the eye as he went. He hurried to catch up to Ayla, and took the hand that she extended back to him.
He tried not to squeeze her hand too tightly in his, as he still wore his gauntlets, though he longed to. She pulled him along as they made their way quietly through the tunnels. Every so often, there was a torch they had lighted on their way by that left enough flickering light for them to see their way. She finally stopped in front of what could only be described as a crack in the tunnel wall. She slipped through, and only by turning sideways was Alistair able to squeeze through after her.
She turned back to Striker, and quietly ordered the dog to stay just outside, guarding the entrance, and to alert them if anything came. The dog gave a low bark as if agreeing, and went back to the crack in the tunnel wall. Alistair could not feel the presence of any darkspawn immediately nearby, but he knew there could be deepstalkers, spiders, or any number of other threats, and was grateful to Ayla for thinking of bringing along the dog to alert them.
She pulled her hand out of his and took something out of her pouch, a small orb that glowed and lit up the small area they were in as she set it down. "A present from Morrigan," she explained quietly. "In case we found ourselves down here without any light."
He nodded as he looked around; he could see by the light of the orb that this area was a cave even smaller than the one they'd just left, bare of anything except several rocks, some of them spiky, some of them round, some of them flat on top. It was enclosed on all sides except the way they'd just come in. It would certainly serve their purposes, and yet it was far from an ideal place to be alone with his love.
"I'm sorry." He felt shame burning through him, but it wasn't powerful enough to outweigh his need as he tugged off his gauntlets, dropping them on the ground. "I know this isn't exactly . . . romantic, but –"
She shook her head, her fingers already busy working at the laces of her drakescale armor. "It's nothing to worry about, Alistair. I need this just as much as you do." She looked up at him and smiled slightly, her eyes filled with both gentle acceptance and a need as desperate as his own.
He nodded, feeling relief flood him as he realized there was no more need for words between them. She understood. He put his sword down and began to strip off the rest of his armor, unbuckling the pieces and dropping them to the ground unceremoniously as she put her own swords on the ground and stepped out of her armor and boots.
He was only about halfway through his own armor when she came to help him, wearing nothing but her smallclothes, her bare skin gleaming in the light of Morrigan's magic orb. He felt his body vibrating with a desperate need and craving for hers as she began to strip off the rest of his armor. Soon, he was in nothing but his smallclothes, as well, a small pile of his armor stacked around them.
He looked down at her and saw the heat creeping into her gaze as she studied him. Unable to wait or control himself any longer, he crushed her to him, taking her mouth in a possessive kiss that echoed his desperate need. He groaned into her mouth at the relief of tasting her, feeling the answering moan vibrate from her throat into his mouth as he scooped her up.
He somehow kept his head enough as they tried to devour each other's mouths to find a flat rock to lay her down on. He pulled back from her, taking a few shuddering breaths as he reached for her breastband. "I can't be gen–" he started to stay, trying to explain himself, but she interrupted him.
"I know. Neither can I." She sat up, unwrapping her breastband herself and tossing it aside. He took the opportunity to remove his smallclothes, as she did hers as well.
He growled low in his throat as she finally lay bare before him, a sight he had not seen in what seemed like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. He swooped back down to take her mouth again, bracing himself with one arm as the other began to drift over her body. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she returned his kiss with passionate longing, and he took the opportunity to squeeze her breast, tweak her nipple, and then finally slid his hand down to the juncture of her thighs, plunging his fingers into her without ceremony.
She gasped and nipped his bottom lip, hard, as her hands clawed tightly at his hair. He knew they couldn't take long about this, even if he had been able to. So he curled his fingers and moved them in and out relentlessly, rubbing in circles with his thumb deliberately hard and fast. She pulled away from his mouth as he did so, nipped at his earlobe, and sank her teeth into his shoulder hard. He hissed at the sensation, his hand halting as he was temporarily unable to concentrate from the electric jolt of lust.
She raised her head, fixing him with a fierce gaze. "I don't need you to make me ready. I need you inside me. Now."
He didn't question her, didn't deny her. Not that he ever could. He slipped his hand out and thrust into her abruptly. She let out a strangled groan as her head tipped back and her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He shuddered in relief at the silken feel of her, the heat of her clenching around him.
She tugged on his hair and nipped at his shoulder again, arching her hips, and that was enough for him to lose what little of his mind he had left. He took up a fast, frenzied rhythm, driving deeper into her, wanting to go so deep that they would never be apart.
It was the roughest they'd ever been with each other; they used every trick they knew of each other to drive their lust higher, faster, knowing how little spare time they had. They bit at each other wherever they could reach, she raked her nails down his back over and over again, they crashed together with frantic speed. When they kissed, it was hard, desperate, a tangle of teeth and tongues. It was not a union of love right now but of incredible, unassailable need.
When his release did hit at last, it was together with hers, hitting him with the force of a blow as she clamped down tightly around him, and he cried out, thrusting violently into her a few more times as he emptied deep within her. He collapsed on top of her, bracing his weight somewhat on his arms as he did so, but otherwise he didn't bother to move, not sure that he even could.
They lay together like that for several moments, both panting to catch their breath and, at least in Alistair's case, bring his scrambled thoughts back together. His first dim thought was that he'd been so caught up in his own needs he hadn't even made sure she'd gone first as he normally did. This was, quite possibly, the first time they'd climaxed together, he realized. His second thought was that she must be uncomfortable, pressed down into the rock.
He raised himself up enough to look down at her. "Are you all right?" he asked, still somewhat out of breath.
She nodded, smiling the most genuine smile he'd seen on her down here in the Deep Roads. "Much better," she purred, stretching and arching her back, making him realize he was still deep inside her, though he didn't feel inclined to change that just yet. She reached up and cradled his cheek gently. "What about you?"
He paused, taking a moment to think about it. The desperation he'd been filled with since he awoke earlier was gone; in fact, he felt better than he had in days. All the tension was drained out of his body, and though he could still feel the heavy pressure along his spine, up the base of his neck and into his head that meant the horde was very near, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as it had been previously. It actually felt . . . manageable. "Really . . . a lot better," he admitted, surprised.
"Good," she smiled, dropping her hand back down. "May I ask . . . what brought this on?"
He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was a darkspawn nightmare. Well, I've been having them every night on the way here, but it was especially bad tonight. And I just . . . I needed . . ." he stopped abruptly as his gaze, roving over her, noticed suddenly that she was bleeding in half a dozen places where he'd bit her. "Ayla . . . I . . ." he touched his hand carefully to the blood, appalled.
She caught his hand, bringing it up to her mouth to kiss his fingers. "Look at yourself before you start to feel guilty. You're a lot worse off than I am," she told him gently. "And I told you, I needed that as much as you did. I needed the relief . . . the release . . . just as much."
He looked down at his own body, realizing she was right; he was bleeding in just as many places as she was. And now that he thought about it, his back was stinging too from the rake of her nails. "You're not . . . upset?" he managed finally.
She shook her head, a wicked grin spreading over her face. "No, quite the contrary. I am extraordinarily satisfied and ready to face those Trenches."
He grinned in answer, feeling both relief and amusement flood him. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if she'd been upset or hurt at the way he used her; to realize that they had used each other and both of them had needed it, had enjoyed it, made him feel incredibly better, a boost to his spirits he had greatly needed down here. "I am glad to hear it. I think I'm more than ready to face the Trenches as well. You seem to have . . . relieved the pressure the presence of the horde puts on me, love."
Her eyes softened as she pulled him down for a tender kiss. "I am more than happy to help. Anything that you need, Alistair, you have only to ask."
He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth, his heart overflowing with warmth for her. "I love you, you know that, right?"
Her eyes were glowing with the warmth that he felt as she nodded. "Alistair . . . of course I do. Just as you know that I love you, always." She pulled his head down to cradle against her chest for a moment, which he was only too happy to allow, before she sighed. "We should get back. My watch is next and we can't leave Aedan alone much longer."
He pulled himself away from her, nodding reluctantly, knowing she was right even as he didn't want to leave. "You're right, we should get going."
They took a healing potion for the wounds they had left on each other, and cleaned themselves up as best they could with scraps of cloth and water from their canteens before they dressed. Ayla, of course, was done first and helped Alistair get his armor back on before picking up her orb and heading to the entrance.
He stopped her just after they'd stepped outside of the cave and determined that there were no threats nearby, Striker still calmly waiting for them. "Thank you, Ayla," he murmured sincerely.
"You're welcome," she replied, smiling warmly, "though I should be thanking you as well." She kissed him softly, sweetly. "Now come on, we have a Paragon to find and a promise to keep."
He followed her back to their camp, filled with a renewed determination. They would find Branka, as he had promised Oghren, and they would all get back safely.
His resolve was somewhat shaken the next day when they finally reached the Trenches themselves. They were on a cliff, overlooking a massive canyon far below filled with thousands of darkspawn. He could barely make out the individual shapes of the creatures, even by the light of the torches they carried, as he peeked over the edge. And for the first time he could remember since he'd started sensing them properly, he could not get anything approaching an exact count.
Though the pressure was indeed far more manageable than it had been before, he could still feel it bearing down on him, crawling up and down his spine in a sickening fashion as the teeming masses marched by below. He knew where they were going; they were finally heading for the surface. He looked over at Aedan, saw the grim question in his eyes, and nodded his answer. Their time was running out.
Just as they were about to turn back from the edge and head to the bridge they could see spanning the canyon in the distance, Alistair heard the roar. The one he'd only ever heard in his nightmares. He froze in horror, wondering if he was truly awake, as the archdemon flew up from the canyon ahead of them, landing on the bridge far away. It spewed dark, tainted flame over the canyon below, before roaring again.
This time, for the first time ever, as the roar shook his body and vibrated through his brain, he could hear it. He could make out what the archdemon was saying. March. March to the surface. March on the humans. Kill. Destroy. Maim. Taint everything. The voice twisted through his brain, seductive, dark, frightening, hollow. He felt the strangest urge to go, to follow the archdemon and do as it said. He battled with himself, trying to suppress the urge, using every ounce of control and discipline he had ever learned.
"Alistair! ALISTAIR!" It was the frantic worry in her voice that brought him back to himself. He realized with a shock of surprise that he was on his knees, his hands pressed over ears as he tried to block out the sound of the archdemon's voice. Ayla was crouched in front of him, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. Her face was stamped with worry and fear and her eyes were filled with unshed tears.
He dropped his hands from his ears, pulling her into him, resting his head on her shoulder. Beyond her, he could see the archdemon flying away through the underground, following the horde as they left. It had known they were there, he was sure of it. Why had it left? Was it not worried about them at all? Or did it wish to take advantage of the fact that they weren't on the surface? He didn't know, but whatever the reason was, he was grateful. He wasn't ready to face the archdemon just yet.
He held Ayla tightly, breathing deeply, settling his nerves and steadying himself. Looking around, he could see Aedan just getting to his feet, being helped up by Morrigan. He stood up as well, pulling Ayla up with him. "I'm sorry I scared you," he whispered in her ear.
She pulled back from him, shaking her head, looking much calmer. "It doesn't matter. As long as you're fine now."
"I am," he reassured her, watching as Aedan came over to him. The others were watching with varying expressions of concern, worry, or even vague suspicion. "Did you hear what it said too?" he asked Aedan softly as he reached them.
Aedan was grim, his grey eyes dark with worry and a touch of fear. "I heard it talking. I still can't understand it yet, but I know I . . . wanted to go. I wanted to follow it. What did it say?"
Alistair shook his head. If Aedan hadn't heard it, there was no reason to burden him with it. "Nothing much. It was just . . . stirring them up to march on the surface. I felt like I wanted to follow it, too. It was a struggle not to, until I heard Ayla."
Aedan nodded. "Same here." He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders, smiling down at Morrigan next to him, who returned the expression, her eyes warmer than Alistair had ever seen them. He smiled to himself. He was suddenly quite certain his Warden brother had well and truly caught the witch, even if she didn't know it yet.
"Well," Aedan continued after a moment, "we had better hurry, then. It appears there is no better time to be at the Dead Trenches looking for someone, but we need to get going so we can get back to the surface and face the horde."
Alistair nodded in agreement as the others approached. "You two Wardens mind sharing what in the sodding Stone happened back there?" Oghren demanded as he stopped in front of them, gaze faintly suspicious.
"It's a Warden issue," Aedan replied smoothly. "We can sense the darkspawn, and the archdemon being there along with the horde was a little . . . overwhelming. But it's gone now, so everything is fine."
"Uh-huh." Oghren regarded them for another long moment before producing his flask and taking a long pull from it. "If you say so."
"If that was the archdemon, we should follow it," Sten rumbled, crossing his arms as he stared in the direction the horde had gone. "It is the purpose of our journey."
"No," Alistair said before Aedan could, surprising himself. "We won't catch up to it, not the way it was going. And it would be suicide to face that horde without an army backing us. We need to find Branka and get the dwarves to pledge their support. Then we gather our troops and go after the archdemon."
"Alistair's right," Aedan agreed. "We aren't prepared yet to face the archdemon or the horde. We need more time. But I promise you, Sten, we will get there."
The qunari met Aedan's gaze for a long time before he finally nodded. "Fine. It shall be as you say. Let us be on our way, then."
They made their way over to the bridge, Aedan and Alistair in the lead, with the others following closely. As they got closer to the bridge, Alistair realized there were darkspawn coming across it, at least twenty of them nearby, more of them further behind at the immense gate across the way. It was immediately after that he saw the line of dwarves at the end of the bridge they were approaching.
"I didn't realize the dwarves came so far into the Deep Roads," Aedan murmured as he spotted them.
Oghren snorted from behind them. "Probably the Legion of the Dead. Those crazy nug-lickers will go anywhere down here. They all have a death wish."
As if in answer to what Oghren had said, one of the dwarves who was slightly ahead of the others roared at the darkspawn advancing across the bridge, "Let them come! It saves us the walk to their lair!"
The darkspawn sped up as the dwarves in their dark armor rushed to meet them, and Aedan drew his sword. "We'd better help them."
Alistair drew his own sword and readied his shield, following Aedan into the fray. Though there were many darkspawn, with the aid of the dwarves and the strength of their entire party, they began to cut their way through. As soon as a hole appeared in the ranks of the darkspawn, Aedan began to press their way forward, moving across the bridge as more darkspawn appeared from the other end.
It was slow going, fighting their way through the darkspawn that seemed to appear from all sides as they got to the end of the bridge and kept fighting their way towards the huge double doors, many times taller than a human or even a qunari, but eventually, when Alistair cut down the Hurlock in front of him, there wasn't another one to take its place. He looked around, seeing the others finishing off other darkspawn all around him, but no new ones appearing.
The dwarves had followed them across, and the one who had shouted before came up to Aedan and shook his hand. Alistair could hear him say something that sounded like, "Well, Warden, I'll give you credit for backbone. You've dug a line through the spawn," before he turned to make sure Ayla was okay.
She was standing several feet away, in the midst of a few genlock corpses as she cleaned her swords off. She didn't appear to be harmed at all, and smiled when she saw him looking, making him smile in answer. There had to be something wrong with him, he decided, when he found the sight of her covered in blood with the light of battle still in her eyes as arousing as the sight of her in that dress. But, he realized, he couldn't bring himself to care. Not when everything about her made him feel so much better.
But, he reminded himself as Aedan walked past him, there wasn't time for that. They were truly in the Trenches now, and there would be no more opportunities to get her alone until they were done here.
"That was the Legion of the Dead back there," Aedan said as he began walking past the corpses of the darkspawn, heading to the left of the massive doors. "Their leader, Kardol, says those doors don't open, but there should be a tunnel around the side here that will bring us further into the Trenches."
"Has he seen Branka or the Anvil?" Alistair asked as he followed, the others all gathering their weapons and following after them.
Aedan shook his head. "No. He seems to think we're crazy for trying to find either down here."
Alistair snorted. "Maybe we are."
"Probably," Aedan agreed. "But even if we don't find the Anvil, we did find evidence that Branka came to the Trenches. And it's her that we need, not the Anvil. Now that we're here, we might as well keep going until we find her, alive or dead."
Alistair nodded. "You're right." He hesitated for a moment as they found the tunnel and continued down it. "You know, even though the horde itself is gone, there are still a lot of darkspawn here. Possibly more than a hundred." He could feel it now that they were going around the doors.
"I know." Aedan's expression was impassive as he met Alistair's gaze. "We have no choice but to keep going."
Ayla slipped up next to him then, looping her arm through his. "It will be fine," she promised them. "We're all here with you."
"Ayla is quite right," Morrigan agreed, appearing next to Aedan. "We will find this dwarf woman and leave this wretched place as soon as possible."
Aedan grinned down at the witch before turning to Alistair. "Shall we go then?"
"Let's find her," Alistair said, hoping as they made their way through the tunnel that the others were right. He did not want the Dead Trenches to be the last thing he ever saw.
Ayla was getting truly sick of the Trenches. It was the third day since they'd entered the wretched place, and there seemed to be nothing but stone room and tunnel after stone room and tunnel. Many times their way forward had been damaged or blocked and they'd had to find another way around to keep going. Sometimes stones would crumble and fall around them as they went, and she was beginning to fear it would be a caved-in roof that would kill them, not the darkspawn.
Not that there was any shortage of those, either. Every room they came upon seemed to have clusters of darkspawn to fight, and sometimes even undead skeletons like they'd seen in Redcliffe, or shades like they'd seen in the Brecilian Forest. More than once, one of their party got so seriously injured in the battles they fought that both Morrigan and Wynne would have to spend several minutes healing them.
Fortunately, no one had yet been beyond their ability to heal, but it was a very good thing that they had both of them down here. It also helped that there was actual lyrium sources here as well that the two mages could draw from to keep their magic power up. But regardless of the fact that everything was going as well as could be expected, Ayla's spirits were dragging.
The smell in the Trenches was even worse than elsewhere in the Deep Roads, to the point that it was making her nearly constantly nauseous. And the constant lack of the sun and sky, and the pressure of the stone all around her, was making her feeling almost unbearably anxious. Had she not experienced such a shattering release with Alistair only days ago, she might have lost her mind to panic by now. The release of tension and desperate need they'd felt for each other had done them both much good, however. Alistair had seemed to be doing much better since then, other than that brief and frightening moment with the archdemon. But he'd said the sound of her voice had brought him back, so she had hope that it would work again should they face the archdemon once more.
She tried to bring back that feeling of utter relief she'd felt in that cave whenever the Trenches got to be too much. They would get out of here, she vowed, and she would have some proper time alone with him, not a stolen moment in a dark cave. And she would see the sun and feel the fresh air on her face again. That was what she clung to in the dark moments when she felt like she might break down. Like right now. She could smell the blood and rotting flesh that she knew was just through that break in the stone wall ahead. And some of that blood . . . it smelled fairly fresh.
That was when she heard it. An eerie, monotone female voice drifting along from ahead of them. "First day they come and catch everyone."
"Did you hear that?" Aedan demanded in a low voice from in front of her, turning to look back at her. "What was it?"
She nodded. The voice had given her the urge to run, the instinct she'd only felt a few times before; at Ostagar, before the battle with the high dragon, and just before the archdemon had appeared. Why it should have, she didn't know, but she shivered from the feel of it. "I heard it. It sounded like a woman's voice."
"Branka?" asked Alistair, hope in his voice as he came up next to her.
She shrugged and looked back at Oghren, as did the two Wardens. "What're you all looking at me for?" the dwarf exclaimed. "I didn't hear anything! We'll need to keep going if you want to find out if it's Branka."
"Right," Aedan nodded, climbing through the break in the wall. "Keep listening, Oghren, and let us know if it's Branka."
"Wait." Ayla grabbed Alistair's arm, hating herself for hesitating, for being afraid. "I don't think –"
"What's wrong?" He turned to look at her, concern in his hazel eyes.
"Something's not right. I can feel it. There's something very dangerous up ahead," she replied in a low voice.
He blinked, cocked his head, his eyes taking on that blank look they did when he was trying to get a sense of how many darkspawn there were. "There is . . . a kind of darkspawn up ahead I'm not familiar with, as well as some others. But it's much farther away than that voice is. And if that was Branka . . ." he trailed off, looking at her with regret.
She huffed out a breath. "I know, I know. We have to go look. Let's just . . . be careful, all right?"
He nodded. "I promise." He turned to follow Aedan, climbing through the wall.
She followed, too, and the entire party began to make their way through the new tunnel. It was a tunnel filled with piles of dead and rotting flesh, sickening, hideous lumps made into crude statues that distinctly reminded Ayla of the Circle Tower when it was infested with demons. What was worse, as they made their way through the tunnel, was the female voice weaving a terrifying poem, one line at a time. "Second day they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day we wait and fear for our fate. 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. Ninth day she grins and devours her kin."
The last line, "Now she does feast, as she's become the beast," was delivered as they arrived at the end of the tunnel, entering a stone room. In the middle of a pile of grotesquely twisted, half eaten, rotting corpses stood a dwarf woman. She was dressed in rags, her head tilted in the same odd fashion as Ruck as she began to repeat the poem over again, her eyes shining dull and silver out of a face covered in lesions. Just looking at her made Ayla's stomach roil uncomfortably.
Aedan looked at Oghren, who was staring at the woman in a kind of horrified recognition. He took a long gulp from his flask, but shook his head. "That's not Branka," he whispered. "But I do know her. That's Hespith – she's from our house."
"We're close, then," Aedan murmured. "She might know where Branka is." He approached the woman, stopping only a few feet away as she looked up at him. Everyone else hung back, Ayla especially, as she took deep breaths to try to manage her nausea.
Hespith tilted her head at Aedan as he stopped. "What is this? A human? Bland and unlikely. Feeding time brings only kin and clan. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors."
"We are no dream," Aedan said softly, obviously trying to reassure the woman. "We . . . we can help you."
Hespith shook her head violently. "No. No, you can't. There's nothing left. There's body and there's hope, and both are turning . . . They come. They . . . they vomit, they violate, and they chant. They scream, oh, how they scream . . . Then the change comes." She paused, her eyes gleaming with a terrifying madness as they all listened to her in horror, before she continued, "All I could do was wish Laryn went first. I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?"
The mention of the whole reason they were here seemed to snap Aedan out of the daze they'd all been in as they listened to her. "Branka! Where is she?" he asked desperately.
Hespith backed away, shaking her head, gesturing wildly with her hands. "D-do not talk of Branka, of what she did. Ancestors preserve us, forgive me. I was her captain, and I didn't stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. Forgive her . . . but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become."
Her lover? Ayla wondered, trying to focus on a fact that wasn't utterly terrifying as she looked back at Oghren, who looked shocked at the new information. Aedan, meanwhile, pressed the dwarf woman for more. "What did she do? What did Branka do?"
"I will not speak of her!" Hespith shrieked. "Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!"
Before any of them could stop her, the dwarf woman broke past them and fled out another door, in the opposite direction from where they'd come. And Ayla had a sinking feeling it was in the direction of the unusual darkspawn Alistair had sensed.
"Well," Oghren said weakly, being the first to break the stunned silence, "I guess that explains why Branka left me behind. I didn't sodding know they were –" he shook his head, breaking off to drink more out of his flask. "Doesn't matter anyway. It sounds like Branka was alive, the way Hespith was talking."
"Alive, yes, though it sounds like she's done something terrible," Aedan replied grimly. "But . . . I suppose we have no choice but to follow Hespith."
So saying, he went towards the door she'd left through, and the others followed, Ayla more reluctantly. Whatever was wrong with Hespith, it was worse than what had been wrong with Ruck, and as ashamed as she was to admit, it made her scared. Scared for herself, for her own safety, something she couldn't ever recall being in her life. But she was sure that becoming like that would be worse than dying in battle.
"Are you going to be okay?" Alistair whispered as she passed him at the door.
"I – yes," she answered quickly, wanting to chase away the worry in his eyes. He had more than enough to concern himself with. "Just seeing Hespith like that . . . frightened me a little. I'm sorry."
"No, don't be. It was . . . horrible," he said softly, pulling her briefly into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I promise you, I won't let anything like that happen to you."
It was probably irrational for her to feel better at his promise, but she did anyway. And she felt guilty for seeking comfort from him when he had so much to bear himself, but she leaned against him anyway, breathing in his smell. His arms tightened around her briefly before his head suddenly jerked up. "Ogres," he said tightly. "Two of them."
That was all she needed to hear; they pulled apart and raced after the others, drawing their swords as they went. They spotted the ogres lumbering towards their party on the stone balcony the door had led out onto, Aedan shouting instructions as the ogres roared and picked up speed.
Sten and Oghren took on one together, while Leliana, Morrigan, and Wynne fired arrows and long range spells at both to keep them busy. Zevran, Striker, and Aedan worked at keeping the second ogre occupied while Ayla and Alistair circled around to its back. In a repeat of what had become almost second nature to them now, Ayla took a running leap off Alistair's back and sunk her swords into the ogre's back, bringing it roaring down to the ground for the others to sink finishing blows into.
Before they could do the same to the other ogre, Sten and Oghren had somehow succeeded in bringing it down, finishing it off with blows to its neck and torso. Ayla sprung off the back of the first ogre, somehow feeling considerably better. Ogres and regular darkspawn, things that she could kill, she could deal with that. It was something solid, something tangible, not a nebulous, frightening unknown gnawing at her instincts.
They took a look around the stone balcony to try to figure out where Hespith went. Two closed doors led off the balcony, which was suspended above lava, meaning she had to have gone through one of the doors. The largest one was locked, so they made their way through the second one, finding a large stone hall that looked almost like a Chantry or other religious hall.
They made their way to the altar at the end, and when they discovered a key on it, they were suddenly attacked by several angry shades. With the help of Wynne and Morrigan's magic, they were able to defeat the otherworldly beings, making their way back to the balcony.
Just as they were approaching the locked door to use the key, Ayla heard Hespith's voice again. She held up her hand, halting the others for a moment as she strained to listen. "She became obsessed – that is the word, but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil."
There was a pause before Hespith went on, "We tried to escape, but they found us. Took us all – turned us. The men they kill . . . they're merciful. But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them." At that, she stopped, and not hearing anything more for a moment, Ayla nodded to Aedan to go ahead and unlock the door as she told the others what she'd heard.
"What – what does she mean they want to change the women?" Leliana asked weakly, looking as horrified as Ayla felt.
Ayla shook her head, feeling even sicker to her stomach than before. "I don't know. I'm not sure . . . I want to know."
"It doesn't matter," Aedan said fiercely, his gaze fixed on Morrigan, who was doing her best to look like her usual unconcerned self, though Ayla knew her well enough to see the worry in her eyes. "We won't let them, okay? We won't let them touch any of you. Now let's go."
"Of course, we won't," Alistair agreed, meeting Ayla's gaze firmly, though she could the fear for her lurking in the depths of his eyes, before he wrapped a comforting arm around her as Aedan unlocked the door. The other men all nodded in agreement, adding their pledges as well.
Once the door was open, Aedan led the way through, followed by Oghren and Zevran. Ayla, Morrigan, Leliana and Wynne came next, and Alistair and Sten took up the rear with Striker to keep them safe from any possible attack from behind. If she hadn't been so terrified about what Hespith had meant, Ayla might have been annoyed or insulted at the notion that the women needed to be protected. But just right now, in this strange world full of strange and awful things, she was grateful.
That gratitude only increased as they made their way through the next small stone room, and Ayla heard Hespith's voice coming from ahead again. "They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood. And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and smelled like them. They remade her in their image. And she made more of them."
They had followed a tunnel as Hespith continued to speak, this time loud enough that the others could hear, and as they turned the last corner, Hespith's final word drifted past them. "Broodmother . . ."
When Ayla saw what was around the corner, when she stared into the heart of the unnatural darkness that was Thedas, everything that Hespith had been saying fell into place for her with shocking clarity. She dropped to her knees, unable to control the sudden, wrenching nausea that caused her to heave up the contents of her stomach as she realized just what change Hespith was talking about. As she realized just what terrifying fate might lie in store for her if she couldn't get out of here. She knew without a doubt now that she would rather die, by her own hand if necessary, than let herself become one of those things. She would never let it happen.