Still in the Deep Roads... they will get out of there eventually, I promise. ^^ This chapter took me a long time, because there are just as many plotholes in the Deep Roads as there are tunnels.

Thanks to my awesomest beta Seika for her help! :)

Marvelous Bosoms

The days slugged on. Only three had passed since they found the thaig, but it seemed like centuries. Oghren said Branka went to somewhere called Dead Trenches, so that was where they were going, too. Lovely name. Filled you with energy and optimism, no? And once they reached it, what then? Zevran doubted they would find Branka there. Or that she would have conveniently left another journal there.

No, she was either long gone, or dead. Probably the latter, after two years in this smelly pit. The chance that they would find her was next to zero. Their fearless leader was good in extraordinary things but this time, it would be good to have a backup solution. And he might have just one.

He looked around their little camp and sighed. He should discuss it with others, yes? Except, they were not interested in discussing anything right now.

Airam was sitting on his bedroll, hunched over some huge tome, brows furrowed in concentration, the only movement being the occasional turn of a page or a nibble from a piece of a dried ham. But that could be expected. In truth, he would be more worried if the boy was not reading. What was frustrating was that everyone else was reading, as well. Well, except Rask, who was lying at Airam's feet, snapping at the little wisp of light every time it flew by.

Sten was reciting some kind of monotonous poem or prayer from a little book bound in leather; Morrigan was absorbed in studying the book Airam gave her–grimoire, he called it. Even Shale, for crying out loud. She was carefully examining the maps of Deep Roads, as if she was searching for something. And ever since they found Branka's journal, Oghren had spent every free moment reading it, apparently determined to learn it by heart.

Good. At least he wouldn't be disappointed when he had to part with it for a few days. Because that journal played the crucial part in his backup plan.

"I apologize for disrupting the Deep Roads Reading Room," he said aloud, when it became too boring to watch them. "But we should think of what we will do next."

"We're going to the Dead Trenches," Airam replied distractedly, not lifting his eyes from the book.

"Yes. And then?"

"We'll see if Branka is there or if there are any clues."

"And if she's not?"

"We'll decide there." Airam looked up; not at him, but at Oghren, who still pretended not to listen.

" 'Tis clear. If Branka is not there, we will have to go back," said Morrigan. "We will be running out of food."

"You know, I was wondering," said Airam, finally putting the book away, "what has Branka been eating, all this time? Look at how much we had to carry, and that's just for six weeks. And that's without water. I doubt Branka had a mage with her, who could supply them with fresh water. Or a golem who agreed to carry the heaviest things." He flashed a smile at Shale.

"They could use carts," suggested Sten, but Airam shook his head.

"Not likely, when it's known that the roads are blocked.

Oghren grunted. "Those who want to stay in here for long time have two options. They could go to the surface to buy supplies. Or they could trade with the Legion of Dead."

"Exits?" asked Zevran.

"Legion of what?" asked Airam at the same time.

"Exits. They are used by Wardens or by the Legion… and by the darkspawn. But it takes time and dwarves don't like to go to surface. The sky can fall on your heads any time, I heard."

Airam laughed. "You heard that the sky can fall on your head?"

"It is true," Zevran said with a dramatic sigh. "It happened to me, as well. Scarred my face–that's why I have the tattoos, yes?"

The look on the dwarf's face was priceless. "The sky did that?"

Even Sten's lips twitched a little at that question.

"No, it didn't," said Airam shooting a dirty look at Zevran. "You should know better than to listen to the silly assassin, Oghren. The sky can't fall down. The only thing that can fall is snow–like what I cast, or rain–that's similar, just not frozen."

"And the Legion of Dead?" asked Sten, as if the whole discussion about the falling sky hadn't happened.

"Oh, them," came the unwilling reply; Oghren was still too preoccupied by the dangers of the sky, eyeing the lines on Zevran's face suspiciously. "They are dwarves who leave everything behind and live in the Deep Roads in order to fight darkspawn. They never go back, except for a few of them, when they need supplies."

"Voluntarily?" asked Airam incredulously.

"Yeah. Guess they didn't have much of a life before that, either, if fighting the darkspawn was that much better. I bet they couldn't find a nice busty woman for–"

"Says the man whose wife chose to live in this wonderful place rather than than stay with him," Morrigan said sweetly. Good thing she interrupted the fool–or he would have very cold and wet night, judging by Airam's murderous look. "I'm more interested to hear the assassin's proposal for the backup plan," she continued before Oghren could reply.

Zevran smiled at her. "Ah, thank you, my dear. It is simple. Even if we find Branka, we can't be sure she will be interested in choosing the king. But we need to bring her decision to the Assembly, yes? Well, my suggestion is to use that." He pointed to Branka's journal. "With the kind approval of her husband, of course," he added quickly, when he saw Oghren's scowl.

"What do you mean?" asked Airam. "How can the journal help us?"

"We only need a little sample, in fact. One page, chosen by our dwarven friend here. Leliana is the bard. It would not be a problem for her to copy the handwriting. I have some experience in it, too, but it was never a priority in our training. Crows are assassins, not spies. Bards, on the other hand…"

"I'm impressed," said Morrigan. " 'Tis perfect! I say, let's do that and get out of this place right now!"

But Sten didn't share her enthusiasm. "No. That would be cheating."

Oghren didn't say anything; he just stared at Airam, who chewed his lip. "No," said Airam after a while. "We will continue with the original plan. We'll go to the Dead Trenches. If Branka is there, we'll ask for her opinion; if she refuses, or if she's not there, then we will use this as the plan B, just like Zev suggests. Would that be all right with you, Oghren?"

" 'Tis useless. You know we won't find anything there. We should–"

"Yes, I already heard your opinion, Morri," Airam cut in. "I asked Oghren now."

Morrigan narrowed her eyes angrily, but she didn't say anything.

"Yeah," grumbled Oghren after a short, but very tense, moment. "I'm fine with that." He took a long swig from the flask, and turned back to the journal.

And so did Airam and everyone else; once again, Zevran was left to his own devices. No. That had to end, now.

"Tell me, my dear friend, do you perhaps have one more book with you? Watching you all read makes me want to read something, too," he asked after a while, when Airam was fully absorbed in his book again.

"Of course," said Airam, absent-mindedly. "There are few more in my extra robes, choose whichever–wait. You want to read a book?" Airam looked up, finally aware of the trick.

Zevran quickly moved to Shale's backpack and took out Airam's robes. There were four more books packed in it. "Aha! There they are! You little cheater!"

"Am not! It was carried by Shale, as you have noticed–oh damn." Airam looked up at the golem with a guilty smile. "But, our big friend doesn't mind! Do you? I mean, you didn't even feel it!"

To say that Shale was angry would be the biggest understatement of the week. "So, first It uses me as a pack mule and then It adds that I'm fat? It is very brave for such a squishy thing!"

"What? When did I said you're fat? I would never say something that horrible, especially as it's not true at all! You're a charming, lady! Isn't she, Zevran? With the most marvellous bosom?" he turned to Zevran, with a desperate look on his face.

Zevran folded his arms. "But the part about the pack mule is true?"

"Of course not! It's just as I said–Shale is strong–not fat! Strong! Unlike us squishy things, right? So when she kindly agreed to carry some of our things, so we could pack extra food, I thought, what are four–"

"Five," corrected Sten, earning a dirty look from Airam.

"Yes, yes," he continued turning to Shale again. "What are a few tiny books to that? Someone so amazing wouldn't even feel it. And I was right! You are so awesome, my dear friend!"

"It should have asked."

"Yeeeeesss... you're right."

"I would refuse."

"Well, that's why I didn't..."

"So It will not be surprised when I refuse now, yes? It can carry Its own books by Itself."

"But Shaaaaleee...! You can't do that now!"

"I can."

Airam looked desperate. He looked at Sten, but before he could ask, Sten shook his head. "No."

That answer was the last drop for the crazy kid. "There are other words in the Fereldan language, you know," he said coldly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you for anything." He took his robes and books and stuffed them unceremoniously in his own backpack. Then, he turned to Zevran with a sly grin.

"All right, you won this one, silly assassin. But just wait. I will have my revenge, when you least expect it."

"Such threats! It will give me nightmares!"

The crazy kid shot him one last dirty look; for the rest of the evening didn't say a single word. Brasca. He should have taken one of the books, first.

oOo

The Dead Trenches were not far, Oghren assured them. They should reach it in four or five days. Zevran counted them down hour by hour, so eager he was to be on the way back from Deep Roads. They'd come to the Dead Trenches, find it abandoned and turn back, yes? Or so he thought. When, on the fourth day, Morrigan came back from her scouting to say that she had found a big camp of dwarves, he was almost disappointed. It was probably Branka and her people. And that meant they would have to stay there for a few more days. Brasca! What was the damned woman doing, staying in one place for two years?

But it wasn't Branka.

As they got closer, they saw that the tunnel was blocked by several guards. They were all wearing the same armour, with the same strange symbol.

"Legionnaires," grumbled Oghren softly.

"You are from Legion of Dead?" asked Airam one of the guards, when they reached them. "The soldiers who deliberately chose to give up their life for fighting darkspawn?"

The dwarves looked at each other, confused. "Yes. And you are?"

"I am honoured to meet you." said Airam, and bowed. "Allow me to introduce myself; Commander of Grey in Ferelden, Airam Surana."

"The Commander? So Duncan is dead?" asked one of the dwarves. "I am sorry to hear that. We hoped to see him soon, and fight at his side one last time. Please, Warden, come and join us for today, and tell us what happened to Duncan."

The dwarves took them into the main camp, where they were a real attraction. Some dwarves knew Duncan and few of the other men, but for many it was the first time they had ever seen a surfacer. They prepared a dinner–a feast, truly, under these conditions–and during the meal they had to answer many questions about 'funny surface matters' like trees and plants, but most of all, about the dangers of the sky. Oghren apparently shared the tale about Zevran's tattoos; whatever Zevran said about it now, it wouldn't be enough to convince the dwarves that the sky is in fact perfectly harmless.

When the dinner was over, and the curiosity of dwarves more or less sated, their leader, Kardol, took them aside to discuss more serious matters. He listened to Airam's briefing about Ostagar and their mission, and how the Assembly had sent them to find Branka. Zevran winced few times at the crazy kid's cheeky comments about deshyrs, but it seemed Kardol didn't mind.

"I see," he muttered when Airam finished. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but you are too late. It is true that Branka was here, for more than a year. They reclaimed the thaig, and drove out the darkspawn. We had a deal with them–we provided them with food and water in exchange for weapons and armour. She had a few very nice smiths with her. They were still here when we last passed this way, some six months ago. But when we came now, Bownammar was overrun with darkspawn and there are no traces of Branka. We do not know what happened, but we fear the worst."

"Did you enter the thaig?"

"No. I arrived with twenty men; we're on our way to get supplies. It's not enough to reclaim the thaig."

Airam's face cleared. "Well, then, we can't tell for sure that Branka is dead," he said. "Perhaps she moved on long before the darkspawn came."

"True, but to find out you would have to enter the thaig. That would be suicide. There is a big group guarding the gates, at least fifty of them, and in the thaig there would be several times more."

"Only fifty?" asked Airam. "In that case, I say we have a chance! Twenty of your men plus the six of us-"

Rask growled.

"I'm sorry, did I say six? I meant seven, no, eight!" Airam chuckled and scratched the mabari behind ears. "We can do it! Fifty, you say? Bah! We've defeated hundred of spiders that were much more nasty than darkspawn on our way here. And if you and your men join us, they won't stand a chance!"

"You're a brave one," said Kardol. "I would like nothing more than to join you, for Bownammar used to be a home of the Legion once. Unfortunately, I can't allow any organized attacks without the approval of the Assembly. To retake the thaig, that would be considered an organized attack. If I did it by my own decision, we would lose our support in the Assembly. And we need their support, if we want money for food and weapons. I am sorry. I can't fight with you."

There was a moment of silence, as Airam was thinking about that answer. "Well, what do we do now?"

"I am going," said Oghren. "Even alone."

"You won't be alone," promised Airam. "I will be there for sure, too. What about the rest of you? Do you want to turn and go back now, so close to our goal? Sten?"

"No."

Airam's lips twitched, but he didn't comment it. "Shale?"

"I'm not afraid of few squishy darkspawn."

"Zev?"

"If you go, I go, naturally."

"Oooh how clever of you, to leave me to the end," said Morrigan. "I still say this is a useless waste of our time. What if I refuse to go, hm? You won't get far without a healer."

"So you admit it was a useful thing to learn?" asked Airam, as if he didn't hear her threat.

" 'Tis useful for you," she pointed out. "I would not need it, were I alone, as I would never do such a foolish thing. But I guess I have no other chance now than to go with you. I do not wish your blood on my hands."

"All right, then." Airam turned to Kardol. "We will leave tomorrow. Could we please camp with your people tonight?"

"Of course. We can't fight with you, but we will help as much as we can. Feel free to take as much food as you want from our supplies. We have enough, and in three days we will be in Orzammar, anyway, so we can buy more–"

"I'm sorry. Did you say in three days?" Airam cut in. "How? It took us three weeks to get here."

"We know our way here better than anyone. Show me your maps." He studied them for a while, but then shook his head. "I thought I would fix few things... but these are no good. These must be at least ten years old. Jarmil, please give the Warden Commander a set of maps... No, that is not necessary," he said with a smile, when Airam started to thank him. "We Legionares always cooperate with Wardens, and often provide them with maps, so we always have few extra copies."

"It is still a great help. I wish there was something we could do in return."

"Succeed and kill all of the darkspawn in Bownammar. That will be enough."

"You may count on that."

Kardol smiled. "And one more thing. While I, and few others that have been in the Legion long enough, feel your pain where our cousins in the Assembly are related, you better not say that aloud in front of everyone. They might be the black sheep of their families, but they are also very loyal; enough to come here to clean the name of the family, damaged by their actions."

"They are deshyrs?" asked Airam incredulously, looking over his shoulder to the Legionares. "These tough guys? You know, this might be the greatest wonder of the Deep Roads."

Zevran sighed inwardly–this, right after the warning–but Kardol laughed. "You know, it might be true, after all."

oOo

When dwarves heard these weird surfacers wanted to win back Bownammar, they went out of their way to help them. Smiths repaired their armours and weapons, as much as it could be done in such short time; especially Sten's armour, which was in a terrible shape. They also gave them enough supplies to last for another few weeks. Zevran wasn't sure if he was happy about that. With what they had before, they would have had to turn back to Orzammar soon; now there was no telling what crazy idea could Airam have.

The dwarves offered a large supply of ale; they even prepared a little barrel that could be tied around Rask's neck. When Airam refused, explaining that he could provide water at anytime, they stared at him with shocked pity. "Nobody right in their head would drink water! Water is for washing dirt. Drinking it will hurt your stomach and give you cramps," they lectured him. "For drinking, you need ale or brandy. Or both."

"Not my water," said Airam, mildly offended. "But that thing for Rask is a great idea. Except I'd prefer a leather bag. So he can carry… potions, for example, without breaking the flaks."

The dwarves shook their heads at his craziness–and Zevran saw them smuggle some ale to Oghren–but they did as Airam asked.

"For potions, you say," he said later, while Airam was tying the new bag around Rask's neck.

"But of course. What else could he carry?"

"Indeed."

"Don't you have something more useful to do, instead of looming over me like a misshaped statue of a paragon? Like, go and scout how many soldiers are guarding the gate, so we can prepare a strategy."

That was in fact why he came to Airam; he was pleasantly surprised by this sudden interest in strategy. Not so long ago, he would have just barged forward; if he finally decided to be more careful, it was a most welcomed change. Perhaps all his hard work with the crazy kid was at last bringing some results.

oOo

There was a large group, just as Kardol said; but they were mostly genlocks. The biggest trouble would be emissaries and the two ogres; but it was nothing they couldn't manage, with a good strategy. The best would be to draw most of them onto the bridge between Bownammar and the camp; there their number wouldn't be that big of an advantage. The bridge was old, crumbling on several places; with a few carefully placed traps, they would reduce the darkspawn number before the battle even began. That part was done already, Zevran informed the others.

Airam was quite satisfied with that. "All right, then. My turn now. You wait here; I'll be right back."

Did he think Airam was more careful? Well, he was wrong. Airam insisted on sneaking to the bridge and place some glyphs and curses. All Zevran could do was pace anxiously on their side; when the crazy kid returned safe and sound, he sighed with relief.

Airam noticed it. "Don't you think it's about time you started to trust my abilities? Despite what you might think, I'm not totally incompetent."

"Ah, but I do trust your abilities. How could I not, when I'm your trainer? But even the most skill ed can die if they are not careful. And what would–" I do without you, he almost said, but caught himself in the last moment "–Alistair do without you, hm?"

"Yes, yes." Airam rolled his eyes. "Everyone ready? Let's go kill some darkspawn, then."

Their plan worked. Provoked by a few spells and Shale's missiles, the darkspawn rushed forward to the bridge, only to be caught into his traps and Airam glyphs.

"See what happens to those that are not careful?" He pointed to the genlock shrieking in pain as it tried to free its leg from a trap.

"I'm not that dumb," snapped Airam. "And shut up now. They're coming."

The battle was long and fierce; but it would have been much longer and fiercer, if Kardol's archers hadn't joined in. Kardol himself fought at Airam's side too. "I'm only defending the bridge," he explained.

The dwarves didn't go with them to the gates, but that was fine–most of the darkspawn were defeated, orcs beheaded, emissaries frozen and shattered. The remaining few were small fish, and didn't make much trouble.

"We did it!" shouted Airam after it was over, waving to the dwarves at the bridge. "See you in Orzammar, guys!"

"We didn't make it yet," Morrigan pointed out. "We are still in front of the gates."

"Then let's go in," said Airam brightly, as if she had suggested a nice morning walk.

oOo

Honestly, Zevran was almost disappointed. There were a few darkspawn, yes, but much less than they expected. More or less the same as in the other parts of the Deep Roads. And there were no traces of Branka's people at all. Perhaps they really had moved forward, as Oghren hoped; but there were no hints in which direction they went. Well, he couldn't say it made him sad. He just hoped Branka hadn't left another of her journals laying around. Without any hints, they would have to turn back; it would be ridiculous to wander the Deep Roads blindly.

Just as his hopes were becoming more realistic, Sten, who was carrying the Kardol's map, stopped them. "That passage is not on the map," he said, pointing to the right.

Which Airam immediately took as a sign they should go there.

Things became much more interesting then. The passage led to what seemed like a much older part of the thaig; in fact, it looked more like an ancient crypt than a town. This impression was strongly supported by walking skeletons. Still, nothing new. They had fought such creatures back in the ruins in the Brecilian forest. Once you overcame the initial shock and disgust, they were rather easy to kill. There was nothing to be afraid-

"First day they come and catch everyone."

All right, perhaps he was too optimistic. That was scary. They looked around, but didn't see anyone.

"Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat."

This time it was possible to say it was coming from the narrow corridor to the right. Zevran didn't think it was such a clever idea to go in there; but there was no doubt it was a voice of a woman–probably one of Branka's people.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."

"Do you think... she's telling what happened to the others?" asked Airam, green in face. "Caught... gnawed... eaten..."

"It would explain why there are no corpses," said Morrigan.

There was a moment of uneasy silence as they all thought about it. Then Shale turned to Airam. "Does It think those skeletons we fought were leftovers?"

"Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate," said the voice, before Airam could reply. It seemed it wanted them to follow, and so they did. It was always little ahead of them; each line was more and more gruesome.

"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."

None of them asked, or commented it; they all understood and didn't want to think about it at all. They now came to a real crypt; huge stone sarcophagi were neatly lined in the alcoves in walls. Morrigan and Sten opened a few, to see if there was something valuable. Every time they lifted a lid, a terrible stench would flow out. Zevran would normally join them, but not now. Some things were better left untouched, yes? Airam didn't like it, either; he was greener and greener every minute.

"Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin."

Airam cursed and quickly walked away; they heard him being sick. "Enough you two," he said weakly when he returned. "If you open one more I swear I'll stuff you inside and freeze the lid."

One look at his face made it clear he meant it, too, and so they could finally move on.

"Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.

First day the come and catch everyone..."

"Ah, have we already reached the end of this merry chant? How disappointing," Zevran murmured, but nobody paid the attention.

They finally found the chanter.

oOo

The dwarven woman was kneeling in the middle of the room, cutting meat from the heap of... something. Zevran decided he didn't want to know what it was. When they entered, she turned to them, but he wasn't sure she really saw them. She... wasn't well, to put it very mildly. She made Ruck look healthy and sane. Her face and hands were covered in dark patches; she looked more darkspawn than a dwarf.

As they got closer, Oghren stopped, drawing in a sharp breath. "Hespith?"

She turned to him and blinked, as if she was trying to remember. "Oghren... here? No... I must be deceiving myself again..."

"She is... was, Branka's captain," said Oghren. "What happened here, Hespith? Where is my wife?"

"Do not speak of Branka!" she growled. "She cannot be forgiven. Not after what she became."

"I am sorry we're bothering you," said Airam soothingly. "But we need to know what happened here. Please? What happened to Branka? Is she the girl from your chant? The one that... became violated?"

"No. Not Branka. She betrayed us. But no... I was her captain, and I didn't stop her. Her lover, and I could not turn her. It is as much mine fault as it it hers."

"I do not understand," said Sten. Airam frowned at him.

"What don't you understand?"

"I thought Branka was a woman."

"She is a woman, you overgrown nughumper," said Oghren angrily.

"Then how could they be lovers?"

Airam sighed and rubbed his brow. "Why me?" Zevran heard him mutter under his breath. "Not now, Sten," he said aloud. "Later I'll ask Zevran to explain it to you, all right? Please, my dear lady, do not mind my friend and continue."

After a lot more patient questions, indirect answers, ominous implications and stupid interruptions from others, they finally got a more or less clear picture what happened. According to Hespith, Branka's people regretted coming into the Deep Roads very soon; they wanted to go back home. If Branka hadn't been a Paragon, they would have turned their backs to her and left her alone with her obsession. When they came to Bownammar, it had seemed like a blessing of the Ancestors. A new home; a place where they could bring glory to Branka's name and house. Branka did not care for such glory. All she cared for was the Anvil.

"She became obsessed," said Hespith. "There was nothing else in her, only the Anvil."

But for long months, she couldn't find any new clue about which way they should go, so the others didn't care. Until one day, she found a hidden door–the same Sten noticed–and behind it, an ancient crypt. Certain that she had finally found the Anvil, she had ordered everyone to move on. There were some minor riots, but in the end, they had agreed. After all, it had seemed so near, within reach; if they found it, they would all earn eternal glory for their families. They fought their way through the crypts and found the way to the gauntlet before the Anvil. Many of them had died trying to remove the deadly traps and unlock its secrets, but for a while it seemed they would be successful. In the end, though, it had all been in vain, as they found an enemy they could not defeat. From Hespith's description, it had seemed there was some ancient magical monster that killed anyone who tried to pass. Branka ordered her warriors to kill it but they couldn't, and none of dwarven healers were able to cure injuries caused by the monster. When several warriors died, they finally rebelled. They refused to follow Branka and decided to return to the thaig.

Then the darkspawn came.

No matter how they tried, they couldn't get Hespith to explain what Branka had to do with it; she kept repeating that Branka had betrayed them. It seemed Branka somehow closed the tunnels that led from the crypts to the Anvil, and trapped everyone in the thaig. With most of the warriors dead, they were easy prey. The rest of it was just like the chant said. The men were eaten. But the women they wanted alive. To touch and mold, until they were filled with darkspawn, Hespith said; it sent cold shivers down Zevran's spine. Airam looked as if he might be sick again.

All the time, they carefully avoided looking at Oghren, who was listening to it all without single word. When Hespith finished her tale, he turned to Airam. "Warden. If you do not wish to continue, I will understand. If you wish, take the journal and go. But I have to go on. Whatever she did, she's still my Branka."

Airam nodded. "I understand. We will go with you."

Zevran wasn't so sure this was such a great idea, especially when Hespith said that to get to Branka, they would have to pass by the Broodmother. But he didn't want to cause any more troubles to Airam, and so he didn't protest.

Had he known what waited for them, he would have protested. Vehemently.

The Broodmother was... basically a giant, smelly darkspawn octopus. With no less than five pairs of breasts. And tiny arms–only one pair, thanks the Maker. And a huge mouth full of big, sharp teeth. Zevran wondered if he would ever be able to look at a woman's naked breasts without an urge to retch.

"See, Shale? Now that is fat," peeped Airam distractedly after a moment of shocked silence.

Octopus or not, it was still a female and apparently did not like to be called fat. It roared, and attacked them by its tentacles–and by spit. Ugh. The fight that followed was just as bad, if not worse, as the battle with the New Andraste, back in the mountains. It was difficult to predict from which side the tentacles would attack, and almost impossible to get near its huge body. The spells didn't have much of an effect on it, probably because of the huge amount of fat on that body, so Airam and Morrigan focused on healing and regeneration. Good. At least he didn't have to worry about Airam being eaten, this time.

Cutting the tentacles one by one was all they could do. Then he suddenly realized–the enormous fat could be an advantage, as well. He covered himself in shadows and, carefully avoiding the twirling tentacles, ran behind the monster. The stench of its body almost knocked him off his feet. As he expected, the huge stacks of fat made it easy to climb its body; just as it didn't feel the lightning bolt, it didn't feel him climbing up, either. In a few swift moves, he was on its nape. He coated his daggers with the Crow poison and dug them in its neck to the hilt.

It tried to roar in pain; a stream of blood spurted from its neck. Thrashing to all sides, it tried to throw him off. He tightened his grip on his daggers; a fall from here, right under its fat body would be fatal. It didn't take long before the poison started to work. The monster swayed, and came crashing down. Zevran held his daggers until the last moment, then pulled them out and jumped off. The resulting flip was quite impressive, and earned him awed gasps from Airam. It made the the fight almost worth it.

They were all exhausted, but none of them wanted to stay around longer than necessary; even Sten and Morrigan didn't seem inclined to loot her body. They quickly moved forward, hoping to find a place where they could have some rest and clean themselves; being covered in the spit of that thing was not only unpleasant, but possibly toxic.

Zevran didn't notice anything unusual–it looked like yet another tunnel leading to yet another cave, there was no hint that there was a door or a mechanism–until it closed behind them, cutting off the way back. Ah. So this was what Hespith meant, when she said that Branka closed the way, yes? In that case the woman herself should be somewhere near.

"And who might you be? Another errand boy sent by the king?"

They turned to the cold, harsh voice and saw a dwarven woman walking towards them. Once, she might had been pretty, with a marvelous bosom. But after months alone in the Deep Roads, she wasn't much better from Ruck–skin sullen, hair matted, and too many teeth rotten.

"Shave my back and call me an elf!" yelled Oghren. "Branka? By the Stone, I almost didn't recognize you!"

"Oghren." There was no hint of emotion in her voice, as if he was a complete stranger. "So you found your way here after all, did you? Well, I hope finding the way back will be easier."

There was a ringing silence after that comment. Zevran was feeling sorry for the dwarven warrior; he drunk too much of that stinky ale, yes, but he was not a bad man. How many men would follow their unfaithful wife into such a horrid place, fight against all kind of foul things, just to see her again? Not many. Only the most foolish... or the most devoted.

"And you are the king's hired sword, I assume," she turned to Sten.

"No," he said, frowning. "The king is dead. I work for the Warden."

That confused her; she glanced toward the door, apparently wondering if she didn't cut off someone in the corridor.

Airam huffed in annoyance. "He means me. I am the Warden Commander, Airam Surana."

"Oh. But nevertheless, you work for the fools in the Assembly. Let me guess–the new king needs the Paragon's blessing? Well, too bad. I'm not going back."

"Branka," pleaded Oghren, but she just laughed.

"You're wrong," Airam said. "Nobody wants you to come back. Nobody cares–except for Oghren, and I hope he'll get over it soon, too. There are two candidates, Bhelen and Harrowmont. The Assembly kindly asks you to give your recommendation on who you would prefer to be the king. Then you can return to your chase of the Anvil; hopefully there will be another Paragon before the new king dies so your services won't be needed again."

Zevran couldn't suppress the chuckle, and he heard Morrigan snickering behind his back, too. Well, it was safe to say that their fearless leader didn't like Branka. At all.

"Tell them I do not care if they put a drunken monkey on the throne! We had forty generations of kings, and we lost everything. But that will change, when I finally find the Anvil. I will recreate the army of golems, and raise Orzammar to glory again!"

"Impressive," snapped Airam. "I mean, that you know what a monkey is. But the rest of it is a pile of crap, bigger than the broodmother. Even if you find the Anvil, what will you do? You're alone. Your people are dead. Hespith is will be dead soon. The Legion will not come without the king's approval, and the king–or drunk monkey–could care less about you. Where will you get food? Materials? Tools? Workers? Money to get it all?"

What he said made great sense, and Zevran was quite impressed; but it seemed it didn't penetrated into Branka's brain.

"That doesn't matter! I don't need anyone. I can do it all myself. Traitors! I'm better off without them. They pledged their loyalty to me, they promised to help me find the Anvil. They had no right to turn on me just because a few of them died! I needed them to test Caridin's traps. There was no other way, only by trial and error. It was inevitable, that some of them would die. But they refused to help. Even my Hespith... I thought she, at least, would understand that when you reach for greatness, there are sacrifices."

"You are insane."

"Maybe; but you're trapped here with me now. If you want to leave, you must open the way to the Anvil first."

Oghren shook his head. "Branka, what had this place done to you? Where's the girl I married, with the brilliant mind and kind heart?"

"Where is the man I married? The warrior, not a sad, pathetic drunkard? But enough of this. I am you Paragon. You will do what I say. Or die here. It is entirely up to you."

With that, she turned and walked away. Sten and Shale went to check the door behind them, but even they could not bulge it. And the magic wouldn't help here–too big of a risk for cave-ins. There had to be some kind of mechanism that opened the door, but even after an hour of searching, they didn't find anything. It seemed they would have to do as Branka said.

They camped in the hall, unwilling to fight another monster on empty stomachs. Unwilling to talk about Branka in front of Oghren, they talked about the magical monster, Hespith mentioned; where could Caridin get something like that, anyway? It had to be quite powerful magic, if it was still working, after all these centuries.

Whatever it was, Zevran hoped it had only one magical bosom.