David Gaider - The Calling

A silence followed her words. Fiona eventually arched a brow at her former commander. “And if we don’t?”

“Then here you remain,” Bregan answered. “Until our task is done.”

“And what about Maric?” Duncan blurted out. He regretted it as soon as he asked the question. The others looked at him curiously, especially Maric. Only Genevieve didn’t look at him. In fact, she studiously avoided his gaze.

“He will be returned to the surface,” the Architect said carefully. “In time.”

“That’s too kind,” Maric remarked.

“Returned how?” Duncan insisted. “Alive?”

The darkspawn gave a hint of what might have been a smile. “To allies.”

It didn’t elaborate, and Duncan desisted. He obviously wasn’t going to get an answer on this, either, though he had to wonder what sort of “allies” the creature could be referring to. Allies of Bregan’s, most likely. He noticed Genevieve shooting a curious look at her brother at the mention, but only for a second. Perhaps they didn’t tell her everything, either? Curious.

Genevieve turned to go. “I will give you time to decide,” she said. “In the end, if Bregan and I must do this on our own, then that is what must be.” Bregan nodded to her, but as the three of them started to walk to the door, Utha suddenly slammed her manacles down hard on the floor. The ringing sound they made drew everyone’s attention. The dwarf sat there, watching Genevieve and Bregan fervently. Duncan wasn’t sure if she was furious or … something else.

She made several gestures with her hand. They were quick and punctuated. Certain. Her expression did not change. Kell, however, reacted with shock. “No, Utha!”

Genevieve knelt down in front of the dwarf, concern upon her face. “We can give you more time if—”

Utha made a simple, negating slice of her hand.

Kell shook his head at her, stricken. “No, you should wait. We could …”

She turned and gazed at him sadly. Duncan watched as she made a series of complicated gestures to the hunter, most of which he didn’t understand. It was an explanation, however, something involving several chopping movements with her hand and a determined expression.

Kell, in turn, became more and more hopeless. And then finally he nodded, resigned. “If you truly think you must.”

She made a nodding gesture with her hand. She did.

Genevieve watched Utha, torn, but then her face hardened. She looked up at the Architect behind her, and gave him a curt nod. He lowered himself with the aid of his staff to kneel beside Genevieve, his robes rustling as he did so, and held out a slender, withered hand to the dwarf.

Utha took it, her eyes fixed on the emissary and her jaw set. Duncan expected for there to be some kind of incantation spoken, some ritual. But there was only silence. The Architect stared into Utha’s eyes and nothing happened at first. Then black veins began to appear along her hand where the darkspawn touched her. They became darker and darker, the veins branching until her entire hand was criss-crossed with them.

The dwarf closed her eyes, shaking ever so slightly. Duncan watched as the black veins appeared on her neck. Then they spread to her face. Her shaking became more pronounced, and she clenched her teeth hard to keep her composure. Hafter woke up, sensing something, and when he noticed the emissary standing nearby and felt the strange magics at work, he began to growl menacingly. Kell put his hand on the hound’s neck to quiet him. The hunter looked away and shut his eyes tight. He couldn’t bear to watch.

A shadow formed around the Architect’s hand, a black and amorphous mass that seemed to grow out of him. It got larger, and as it did the small chamber grew chill. Duncan shivered, and saw frost forming on the wall next to Utha. Her breath was coming out in white plumes, as it was for the rest of them. The shadow crawled off of the darkspawn’s hand and onto the dwarf’s, and there it slowly sank into her. Her flesh withered and curled, the air filling with the foul stench of decay.

Utha began to spasm. Still she fought against the agony that was burning through her. The stain on her skin spread, crawling up her neck and covering her face. Her coppery hair began to grey, and then it became white. Her long braid twisted and curled behind her, like a match that was burning itself into a cinder. Her eyes shot open, bloodred, and she opened her mouth in a soundless scream … and what wisps remained of her hair simply fell out.

And then it was done.

Utha pulled her hand from the Architect’s and doubled over, her body racked with shudders that grew less and less. The plumes of breath grew fainter until finally they disappeared and she was still. Duncan thought for a moment that she had died, but as she slowly sat up he realized that she was now simply cold.

The darkspawn nodded at her and lowered his hand. The chill in the air lessened almost immediately, although it did not disappear.

Everyone but Kell stared at Utha. The hunter averted his eyes and calmed Hafter as the hound whined in confusion. Fiona shook her head in disbelief, furious, but Duncan didn’t know what to think. The dwarf was now as bald and tainted as Genevieve and Bregan, her eyes that same bloody red, but she seemed calm. She nodded curtly to the Architect and he ran a finger along her manacles. They opened with a loud clicking sound and dropped off her.

Nice trick. Duncan needed to learn that sometime.

The dwarf stood and walked forward to stand before Genevieve, not even looking back at the others. “Thank you,” Genevieve said with the officious tone reserved for a good soldier. Utha nodded again but did nothing else.

Genevieve glanced toward the hunter. “And you, Kell?”

He did not look at her, and said nothing. Duncan could see from his troubled expression, however, that he was uncertain. The hunter closed his eyes, frowning deeply.

She looked to Fiona, though far less hopefully. “Fiona?”

The mage glared at her in pure hatred. “How dare you ask me that,” she spat. “You throw us in here, tell us next to nothing, and then expect us to chase after you again? You abandoned us, Genevieve!”

“You should have turned around.”

“We didn’t! We tried to finish the mission!”

“As did I. As I continue to do.” Genevieve snorted derisively. “You are not a child. This is what our task is. This. We make sacrifices to end the Blight. That is exactly why you followed me here in the first place.”

“You’re insane.” The elf shook her head contemptuously. “If I actually thought what you were doing might end the Blight …”

Genevieve cut her off, turning to Duncan. “And you?” she asked him.

He felt caught. What was he supposed to do? In a way, she was right. They were already dead. He would have been executed had it not been for his recruitment into the Grey Wardens. He was living on borrowed time, so what did it matter how he fought the Blight? He could have died just as easily in that cavern or any one of the battles before it … at least this way he would have a chance to do something significant.

But the sudden shift startled him. Genevieve had seemed so determined to find her brother and kill him if necessary, as if that were all that mattered. But now she wanted something completely different, based on just a single talk with her brother and this darkspawn friend of his. What had been going on here this entire time? Why would she go along with any of this?

Yet he wanted to trust her. He wanted to prove to her that he could be the kind of Grey Warden she expected him to be.

“I …” He stared at her, unable to form a response.

“Don’t do it,” Maric muttered under his breath.