David Gaider - The Calling

The words sank in only slowly, and as she realized what he was saying she looked at him in puzzlement. “End the Blights? How?”

“It requires a sacrifice. A large sacrifice. But we have to be willing to make it.” He seemed so resolute, his tone so certain. “Please, if you come with me, we can explain it to you.”

“Are there other Wardens here?”

“There is a darkspawn emissary.” He put up a finger to silence her as he felt her tense in response. “I know what you are thinking, and I thought the same, but he is not like any darkspawn I have ever seen. He is something different, an ally. Come, listen to him speak. That is all I ask.”

“Have you gone mad?”

Bregan seemed to consider the question. He released her arms, and Genevieve stepped back, her mind whirling with questions. Maybe she was the one who had gone mad. Of all the times for it to happen, the strange music off in the distance swelled and pressed in on her mind. She tensed and fought it off. She had to know what this was, what had happened to her brother.

“Perhaps,” he pondered. “I don’t know.”

She ran to him and took one of his hands in hers. His skin was cold and clammy, but she ignored it, looking pleadingly into his eyes. “Bregan, we have to get you away from here! Before something terrible happens!”

“And go where?” he asked. When she had no answer, he chuckled. It was a mirthless, cold sound. “Where could I go that I would not be killed instantly on sight by anyone who saw me? Where could you go?” He gently tugged on her gauntlets. She let him do it. They came off and revealed the stains of corruption below. “We are dead, Genevieve. Dead the moment we drank the blood in the Joining, in the name of stopping these Blights by any means necessary. That is the Grey Warden way, isn’t it? And here we have our chance.”

“But …”

“Did you actually come here to save me?” Bregan released her hands and she jerked them away, hiding them behind her back. “All this way, through darkspawn and who knows what else, to bring me home?”

“I came to stop you.” She frowned, her calm returning to her by inches. “I came to prevent a Blight from occurring.”

“Then prevent it.” He held out a tainted, withered hand to her. She stared at it dispassionately, wondering if that was truly the fate that awaited her. Had the ancient Grey Wardens known that? Had this happened before, she wondered, and this was why they created the Calling? Death seemed like it would almost be preferable.

But she had to know. The order had a noble cause, one that had saved countless lives and would save countless more. She had wanted to be a Grey Warden since long before the recruiter even came to her village—and what if there was something to what Bregan said? Stopping the Blights. Forever. That was worth a sacrifice, was it not?

Genevieve took Bregan’s hand. She was shaking like a leaf, and couldn’t force herself to stop. “What … what about the others?” she asked hesitantly.

“I can’t make promises about them.”

“Are you certain this can be done, Bregan?”

He grinned, displaying teeth that were stained and eerily sharper than she had ever remembered them being. Like darkspawn teeth. “I’m not certain about anything anymore,” he said.

And then he led her away, down the tunnel and into the darkness as the distant music swelled into a chorus that drowned out everything else. The group woke up only to discover that Genevieve had vanished during the night. It was not difficult to guess where she had gone. Kell cursed himself for a fool for even agreeing to her suggestion of standing watch, though Maric had other ideas on that front. She had left them asleep and unguarded. Anything could have come upon them in the night and slain them all—and for what? So she could follow her obsessive drive to locate her brother. He wasn’t even convinced that this was truly about stopping the Blight, not to her.

But the others still believed. Duncan in par tic u lar seemed most aggravated by Genevieve’s departure, storming about the campsite and ranting about how stupid she could be. It was an odd way to talk about one’s commanding officer, Maric had to admit, and he wondered just what had occurred between the two of them inside her dream.

Utha watched the lad pace, and then indicated that they needed to follow after Genevieve. The others said nothing at first, staring at each other awkwardly, and Maric realized what they were thinking. Chasing after their commander was a Grey Warden concern. Indeed, even if they still thought that stopping the coming Blight was a possibility, that, too, was their concern—but not his. Maric had already performed his task, and they couldn’t reasonably ask the King of Ferelden to follow them into what looked like certain death.

He looked at Fiona then, and found her studiously avoiding his gaze. He had woken up alone, and they hadn’t exchanged words since. In fact, she said very little. The elf didn’t seem angry, as far as he could tell. Perhaps she was simply trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, or that it had been a moment of solace and nothing more. Perhaps he had spoken too much of Katriel. He had lain with his former elven love, too, in these Deep Roads; it was impossible not to see the comparison.

He told the Wardens that he would go with them, of course. There was no turning back now, any more than there had been after slaying the dragon. They were past the point of no return. Whether or not he believed in the witch’s warning, he was committed to this path.

So they descended. Fiona led the way with her staff shining brilliantly in the greenish shadows, and they moved as swiftly as they could. The looks on the Wardens’ faces told him everything he needed to know: The darkspawn had returned. Even he could hear the faint sounds of their approach, the distant droning hum getting louder by the minute.

“How long do we have?” he asked Kell.

The hunter stared intently off into the shadows, his pale eyes glinting dangerously. He unslung his bow from his shoulders and drew an arrow. Hafter growled angrily at his feet, hackles raised. Duncan drew his silverite daggers, grimacing as he, too, watched for an unseen enemy.

“It won’t be long now,” the lad murmured to him.

“So quickly? Where did they all come from?”

“I don’t know. They’re ahead and behind us.”

“Is there a way to get around them?”

Duncan said nothing. Instead the group began to run. Fiona raised her staff and cast a spell of protection, a blue glow settling over each of them. Their urgent pace quickened as they reached an intersection of passages. Three directions availed themselves, each of them leading into more shadows and greenish haze.

Kell waved to them to stop, and keenly peered down each passage in turn. Maric’s hand tensed on his sword, his heart thrilled with fear. The others formed a defensive position almost immediately, turning their backs to Kell and facing outward, weapons at the ready. The alien hum of the darkspawn seemed to surround them.

“They are down every passage.” The hunter frowned ponderously. Hafter growled at the shadows, baring his fangs, and Kell absently reached down to soothe the hound with a gentle pat.

“So where do we go? Which way?” Duncan demanded.

Utha pointed directly ahead, and Kell nodded. “Yes. We cannot stay here. We need to find a more defensible position, for they are coming to us no matter which way we go.”

“How did Genevieve get past them?” Fiona asked, frustration mounting in her voice.

The hunter ran ahead, not answering the question, and the rest of them followed quickly on his heels. It was possible that Genevieve hadn’t gotten by them at all, Maric thought. She could be dead already, and they would never know. What he really wondered was how the darkspawn seemed to suddenly zero in on them so effectively when the Wardens were supposedly hidden by the onyx brooches they wore. Something was not right.