David Gaider - The Calling

The sounds of the darkspawn were coming closer, and Maric could hear movement in the cavern at the foot of the stairs. Duncan exchanged a worried look with him. They were almost out of time.

Kell stood, his face wet with tears, and Hafter jumped to his feet with him. The man gazed down sadly at his hound and tightened his grip on his flail. “What do you say, my boy?” he asked. “Are you ready for one last battle? Just you and me?” The hound bounded in place, overjoyed that his master was taking him along after all, barking excitedly in anticipation.

The hunter glanced toward the others up the stairs and nodded solemnly. “Give me one minute,” he stated firmly. His pale eyes met with Maric’s and his meaning was clear: no more, no less.

Without further good-byes, he turned and sped toward the cavern, Hafter bounding after him. Spinning the flail’s head, he roared a war cry and burst into the shadows. Hafter joined him with a loud howl. The effect on the darkspawn there was instantaneous. Like fire touching water, Maric heard angry hissing and a massive commotion as the creatures moved to attack.

Kell was too fast for them, however. He and Hafter raced to the right, disappearing into darkness and leading the darkspawn off. The last that Maric saw of them was the rapidly dwindling orange glow of the amulet.

“He’s gone,” Duncan breathed in amazement.

Maric nodded. “Let’s not waste the chance he’s given us.”

They waited an excruciating minute as the sounds of pursuit in the passages behind them increased. Thankfully the chamber ahead grew quieter. Kell had clearly managed to lead them away, at least for the moment. Finally, when Maric could stand it no more, he drew his longsword and began running down the stairs. Fiona and Duncan didn’t hesitate, and were right on his heels.

Together they raced out of the dwarven ruins and back into the Deep Roads. Maric was unsure just how many hours the three of them spent fleeing. Duncan took the lead almost immediately once they got out of the cavern, racing ahead and urging them to greater exertions. The passages sped by almost without notice, blurry shadows lit by Fiona’s white staff. Duncan told them to hide when he sensed darkspawn coming too close, and three times they had been forced to attack small groups of passing darkspawn when it became obvious that the shadowy alcoves and crumbled statues just weren’t going to be enough to keep them out of sight.

Each time that happened, they were forced to respond to a renewed frenzy of darkspawn activity as the creatures zeroed in on their whereabouts. Each time they were able to narrowly lose their pursuers.

Eventually, the lad stopped them and looked up at the ceiling of the passage they were in. Maric looked up, too, but it didn’t look much different than the ceilings they had passed previously, all stone support beams—many of which had crumbled, leading him to wonder just how long it would be before the Deep Roads collapsed entirely. Perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it happened.

“We’re closer to the surface. I think we’re going up,” Duncan muttered.

Fiona arched a brow at him. “How can you tell?”

“It’s a hunch.”

They paused for a time, sweat coursing down their faces as they panted in exhaustion. But eventually Duncan urged them onward. Fiona didn’t complain, and Maric could only assume that meant they could sense the darkspawn closing in again. So they ran some more. Maric started to wonder if they would eventually end up at Gwaren. He knew these tunnels led out to the eastern city eventually, and that would be amusing only because he’d had the Deep Roads entrance there permanently sealed years ago.

Well, maybe amusing wasn’t the right word. Unfortunate might be more appropriate.

They passed through a long, ruined hall filled with tall pillars and so much masonry fallen from the ceiling that they needed to clamber over the piles. The sounds of deep stalkers were loud there, enough to make Fiona look around in alarm when they got to the top of one of the piles.

“Are they going to come after us?” she asked nervously.

“There are only three of us now, so why not?” Maric had meant it as a joke, but his gasping for breath made that difficult. She eyed him accusingly in response but said nothing.

“If we keep moving, they won’t have time to eat us,” Duncan admonished them. The lad appeared to have limitless amounts of energy, and he seemed only mildly fatigued, while Fiona and Maric were stumbling along after him and almost ready to fall over. Still, they had managed to survive so far. That could quickly change, so they continued to run.

After an indeterminable amount of time spent trudging through the passages, Maric felt ready to collapse. He wasn’t even paying attention to the intersections they were reaching any longer. Duncan had earlier claimed that they weren’t going in circles, but Maric had no idea what his method for choosing a direction was. For all he knew, the lad could be leading them back toward the ruin. Perhaps Duncan was simply choosing what ever direction led him away from the darkspawn he sensed? That seemed logical, even if it still might not get them anywhere.

What would Genevieve be doing now, he wondered? Would she be searching for them separately, or did the Architect have more command over the darkspawn than he claimed? He tried to imagine a Grey Warden directing a horde of darkspawn in a systematic search of the caverns, but his mind balked at the image. It was too bizarre. Thankfully, while Genevieve could likely guess their heading, she couldn’t know which route they were taking since they didn’t know themselves.

Perhaps she wouldn’t care. Perhaps she and her brother and Utha would simply proceed with the Architect’s plan, chalking up their escape to an unfortunate loss. She claimed they had intended to do it without any help, after all. Somehow Maric found that hard to believe.

They were passing what looked to be the ruined remains of a dwarven outpost when Maric noticed the tarnished statue standing in the middle of it. He halted, staring wide-eyed at it. It was half covered in corruption, but the image of a great dwarven king with his warhammer raised was unmistakable. He walked to the edge of the small cavern the outpost was within, studying the rubble and the collapsed tunnels and the strange debris everywhere. Could it be … ?

Fiona stopped ahead, and Duncan turned around as well. “What is it, Maric?” she called back. “What did you find?”

“I’ve been here.” He slowly walked up to the statue, the stones under his boots crunching loudly and echoing in the cavern. He was suddenly aware of just how much his legs ached. Fiona and Duncan edged cautiously into the cavern behind him, looking around as if worrying that subterranean creatures might jump out of the shadows. “This is Endrin Stonehammer,” he breathed. “The first of the dwarven kings.”

“That’s nice,” Duncan muttered. “Why are we stopping?”

“The Legion of the Dead brought us here. This was their outpost.” He pointed to an area near the statue now covered in debris. “And that is where they buried some of the legionnaires who died fighting the darkspawn when we first encountered them.”

“Do you think there’s anything left?” Fiona asked.

“There might be. I remember they couldn’t take all their supplies along.”

Duncan peered at some of the side caves that had collapsed. Something had been through here, something with an eye toward destroying most of what the Legion had left behind. Perhaps the darkspawn? The Legion was one of their most hated enemies, after all, along with the Grey Wardens. Perhaps they came and defaced the area as soon as the dwarves left.