David Gaider - The Calling

They raced ahead down the new passage, evidence of rubble appearing amid the darkspawn filth. Ancient statues lined the rocky walls here, most of them so crumbled and covered in blackness that they could barely be recognized as such. Had the dwarves existed even here beneath the Deep Roads? There was no time to stop and admire the scenery, however. They ran, breathing hard from exertion and panic. Maric stumbled on a patch of uneven rock and Utha darted in to steady him before he fell. He nodded his thanks to her and kept going.

The passage opened up into a cavern, and they immediately slowed. A structure fully filled half the chamber, a wide set of stairs flanked by tall statues leading up to a massive dais lined with tall pillars. The rocky wall behind the dais had been carved into a great, vaulted arch. Once this had been an impressive sight, perhaps a temple honoring some ancient dwarven deity, but now it was blackened with decay and corruption. So much of it lined the floor leading up to the stairs that it had gathered into black clusters, twisted sacs as large as a man. The clusters hung from the ceiling as well, slowly oozing filth down to the ground, where it collected in stagnant green pools.

Kell pointed to the dais. “We make our stand there.” They didn’t argue and began running up the flight of stairs. The filth was deep enough here that it enveloped Maric’s boots and made a wet, sucking sound each time he pulled them free. The rancid stench stirred up by their movements was overpowering.

There was some kind of altar at the top of the dais, simple and flat and only as high as Maric’s waist. At least he assumed it had been an altar. Now it was so covered by a bubbling, festering mass that he didn’t even want to get close to it.

The group spun on their heels immediately, forming a defensive line at the top of the stairs and looking down on the cavern below them. All Maric could hear was their ragged breathing and the droning hum of the approaching horde. There was a hunger to it, the sound rising and falling almost rhythmically. Fiona raised her staff up high and it began to glow with such a dazzling brilliance, the entire cavern was lit up. Maric almost thought he could detect the horrified cringing of the corrupted foulness down there. Indeed, a faint hissing noise erupted from the chamber, and some of the tainted clusters exploded in a display of dark green goo.

Hafter began to bark furiously, but quieted at a gesture from Kell. Utha exchanged a dubious glance with the hunter and he nodded to her with a hint of a sardonic smile. He reached out and stroked her cheek fondly, the hound looking up at the action and blinking in surprise. Utha clutched his hand and held it to her cheek for a moment, her eyes moist, and then she let it drop.

Fiona glanced at the pair and then turned back to face the cavern, her expression resolute. “We’re not done yet,” she vowed.

“Sure looks that way,” Duncan muttered.

Kell turned to him, studying the lad thoughtfully. “You need to leave us here, Duncan. Let us battle these creatures while you slip away.”

“Slip away?”

“You are adept at moving through the shadows. Alone, you could possibly evade the coming horde. You could find Genevieve, if she lives, or even her brother.”

“I think you overestimate my sneaking abilities,” he snorted.

“You should try,” Fiona said. “We don’t know how many of these creatures are coming. Someone has to finish our mission, if it can even be done.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he insisted stubbornly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ordered you?” Kell asked.

“Then I guess I would have to disobey.”

The hunter grinned. “Then I suppose I won’t do that.”

They turned back toward the cavern and waited. The humming of the darkspawn grew louder and louder, and then the first ones spilled into the chamber. Several short genlocks bounded in, followed by a hurlock in massive black armor and carry ing a deadly looking spiked sword. It hissed up at the dais, and the genlocks joined in, stopping and hissing with dis plea sure upon sighting their quarry.

An arrow sped across the air and struck the hurlock between its eyes. It collapsed without a sound. The genlocks roared and charged. More arrows flew and the darkspawn stumbled to the ground, dead before they even reached the stairs.

“I am running out of arrows,” the hunter announced, drawing his bow again.

“I’m running out of clean smallclothes,” Duncan responded.

More darkspawn surged into the cavern now, coming from both entrances. It was a wave of them, their humming filling the entire chamber and drowning out every other sound. Kell carefully fired arrows into the mass, and though each strike sent a creature squealing to the ground, it was clearly not going to be enough.

Fiona pointed her staff at them, her brow furrowing in concentration as a fireball issued forth and hurtled to the bottom of the stairs beneath them. The flaming sphere detonated at the front of the darkspawn ranks, sending the creatures flying and filling the cavern with a flash of magical flame. The creatures let out ear-splitting squeals of anguish, many of them engulfed completely and flailing as they fell to the ground on fire. The flames spread to the oozing filth that covered the cavern floor, and suddenly the ground itself was burning, smoke rapidly filling the air.

Maric was impressed. “How many more of those do you have in you?” he asked her. No answer was forthcoming as the elf swooned and fell backwards. He rushed forward and caught her, his heart jumping as he noted how pale she already was, sweat pouring down her brow.

She blinked rapidly and pushed herself back to her feet. “A few more,” she gritted out. The darkspawn ignored their burning comrades, leaping over them and rushing through the flames even as they got seared. More arrows rapidly struck those at the front. Fiona let out a scream of effort and a second fireball launched itself into the darkspawn ranks, the blast sending a wave of heat and charred stench past Maric.

More were already pushing their way into the cavern, though it was getting difficult to see through the flames and the smoke. He coughed and blinked his eyes at the haze. It seemed the dwarven ventilation ducts were simply not as good here—or, more likely, they were gummed up with the same filth that covered everything else.

So be it. Better to suffocate than die at the hands of these monsters, if need be.

He darted forward as the first hurlock raced up the steps, its flesh scorched black and its translucent eyes filled with raw hatred. He knocked its blade aside with his own and then spun around, beheading the creature in one clean stroke. Ichor fountained from the stump, splattering over his armor, but he ignored it.

More darkspawn were already racing toward him. An arrow whizzed by his ear from behind him, striking one of the creatures and sending it tumbling down the stairs. He lifted his sword and charged. With the more heavily armored Grey Wardens either dead or gone, it fell to Maric to hold the front line as best he could. If only the stairs were narrower.

Another fireball passed over his head as he met the first darkspawn blade, parrying it with a shower of sparks. He didn’t see the blast of flame as the fireball hit its target in the distance, but the wave of sound and searing heat was almost enough to knock him back. Several of the darkspawn in front of him fell; he used the opportunity to plunge his sword into the back of one of their necks.

Thick smoke billowed into his face and he gagged, and then fell back as a genlock in spiked, tattered plate armor leaped at him and slammed into his chest. Maric grunted in pain as his head hit the stairs, and he watched with horror as the genlock gleefully reared up with its club and prepared to bring it down upon his head.