Chapter 80: Road to Hell

Fourteen of us waited inside the massive dwarven gates which led to the Deep Roads: Aedan, Alistair, Duncan, Jowan, Anders, Gorim, Bel, Oghren, Faren, Sten, Shale, Zevran, Prince, and, of course, me. For a moment I was a little bit concerned about being trapped with eleven men and only Shale for female company, but quickly realized it was silly. Neither Alistair nor my brother, honorary father, or brother-in-law would allow anything untoward to happen to me; the darkspawn were the threat, not my companions. For all their issues, with the exception of Bel who I didn't know at all, they were all honourable men.

Which was a good thing, because the gates, manned by a dwarf on massive winches on either side, were opening. It's too late to change my mind.

A blast of uncomfortably warm, dry air assaulted us the moment the seal was opened, and that answered the question of why we didn't have tents and many extra clothes in our packs. The smell of sulfur was strong, but there was also an odour of dusty, unpleasant decay that I could have lived without ever experiencing. Even the naturally stoic Sten wrinkled his nose, which was strangely sort of ... cute. You know you've been in Thedas too long when the Qunari is 'cute'.

The Deep Roads, I had been told, were mostly lit by lava pools and falls, which probably explained the sulfur smell and the warmth, but there were torches lining the corridor in front of me as far as the eye could see, and we each carried a handful of torches 'just in case'. We knew we'd have to cut through several crosscuts and darkspawn tunnels to get to Bownammar, and some of those may not be well lit. We also carried a couple of the enchanted lanterns we'd stolen from Soldier's Peak. Jowan and I each carried one, specifically; we were the least effective fighters of the group.

I couldn't sense any darkspawn, though the tickling feeling of the other Wardens around me was grating at my nerves. Some of the guys carried their weapons in hand, but I figured that wouldn't last long. No matter that we knew we were in for several unexpected fights, fatigue would eventually win out. I left my own daggers securely in their sheaths, slung about my waist on a leather belt.

Gorim and Duncan led the way, and after one, last deep breath, I followed them in the middle of the pack of us. Gorim had painstakingly planned our route through the labyrinth of roads, crosscuts and tunnels on Sereda's maps, and we would be going from one Legion supply depot to the next as we made our way. I shuddered slightly as I passed from Orzammar, with its wide-open ceiling and warm light into the dim and oppressive tunnel.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and another grasping mine in sympathy, and I smiled at Aedan and Alistair in turn. Duncan had assigned them as my protection detail, not that he could have stopped either of them from doing it, and they were both taking it seriously, flanking me wherever we went. I didn't mind; I needed the reassurance.

Fortunately, once we were past the dwarven door leading out of Orzammar, the ceiling rose a bit again; Sten had to duck through the doorway, but in the Deep Roads proper, he had several feet of clearance. It made the ambiance merely oppressive, instead of completely, stiflingly, panic-worthy. The heat was tolerable, for the moment, but I was sure I'd be wishing for less warm clothing as time went on. And the smell didn't improve the further we walked. I had to admit, however, that the Deep Roads were an impressive feat of construction. Only ten feet across at their narrowest, they sometimes as wide as twenty; the ceiling rose far above us at every crossroads. Bridges spanned rivers of lava, and channels encouraged the lava to run parallel to the Roads for a while, keeping the lighting just bright enough to make torches unnecessary.

The few days we'd had with little activity, compounded by captivity for me and Faren, meant we didn't get all that far the first day. We encountered a few deepstalkers – roughly the size and annoyance of dragonlings, irritatingly – and after Sten and Shale stomped them all into paste, we continued on. We had full bags – I knew eventually we'd be smoking and eating deepstalker, and I'd had a serious discussion with my stomach and my Warden appetite regarding that, but we didn't need to resort to that yet, and we didn't have anywhere to store the meat if we tried. So we continued on until I had to stop. Faren collapsed onto the ground the moment Duncan called a halt, so it wasn't just me. He'd done far better than we had any right to expect.

Without tents, we pretty much went to sleep wherever we could manage, after eating some bread and jerky. I slept cuddled to Alistair's broad back, and I noticed Aedan and Zev doing the same. Bel woke us once with darkspawn nightmares, but otherwise the night passed uneventfully. I dreamt, and they were strange, surreal things, but at least I didn't scream. With seven Wardens, we only had to take watch every second night, and to my eternal gratitude, I didn't have one the first night. Alistair did, but he stayed at my side and held me while he watched. I couldn't claim to have been truly comfortable, sleeping in armour on hard stone, curled up against cold dragonbone plate, but it was as close as I was likely to get for some time.

When we woke – in the morning, according to the dwarves, though I certainly couldn't have proved it – we set out again, and I felt better able to keep up with the pace. I worried a bit about Faren, with months of captivity and not yet having Grey Warden stamina, but he seemed to be coping better as well.

He was talking to Duncan at breakfast, asking about the Joining, and getting the usual, vague, lack of information that was the company line. I grimaced and stuck my tongue out at Duncan, who choked on his dry bread; Faren slapped his back a few times to help him clear his windpipe. I walked away as I heard Duncan explain that we'd actually need to find some darkspawn before we could perform the ceremony.

Either Duncan or Aedan must have made rules and explained them to the men, about doing their private business in private, and keeping their pants on around me, because I was thrilled not to get an eyeful of male potty functions before we broke camp. I claimed a little area behind some rubble for my own ablutions, and Alistair kept everyone away until I was ready. Peeing just wherever was a bit, well, odd, and somehow sad given the former majesty of the Deep Roads, but there weren't exactly port-o-potties, so I shrugged and did what I had to do.

We got going with little fuss. As we walked, I spent a little bit of time trying to get to know Bel, with limited success. He'd barely speak, kept his helmet on most of the time, and I don't even think he looked at me directly. I finally mumbled my excuses and dropped back, disheartened. I wasn't even clear if he knew about my unusual situation, and I'd certainly had no chance to explain it.

Oghren invited himself to take Bel's place as my walking companion for a while. I guessed that I was going to be annoyed by Oghren, as I'd never really liked drunk people much, but I also felt sorry for him; he was about to discover the hard way that his wife wasn't at all who he thought she was. And I'd been avoiding him since we entered the Deep Roads because I didn't want to be the one to tell him.

"Don't mind him," he said, gesturing towards Bel's back and speaking much too loudly. "He's got a st-st-stutter, and he doesn't like to talk. Nothing personal, Toots."

I stopped feeling sorry for the red-haired dwarf quite suddenly. "Oghren! That was plain mean, and if you ever call me toots again, I'll slap you so hard your head ends up facing the wrong way."

He belched, and a waft of stale, ale-smelling breath passed by. At least he smells better than he did, thanks to Mistress Leta... "Oh, don't go getting your smalls in a twist, Toots. I know you women can't resist me, but I'm a married man, you know."

I couldn't help it; annoyed as I was, I had to laugh. At least I know who'll be the comic relief for this trip. Aedan, behind us, smacked Oghren on the back of the head, followed by some colourful dwarven cursing, and I laughed even harder.

To my relief, I discovered that Aedan had filled Oghren in about my situation. It made sense – he would have been entirely confused about the commotion surrounding my disappearance, and they'd had no choice but to explain to both Oghren and Bel. That didn't mean either of them accepted the story, by any means, but at least I was saved having to explain it.

"So Pretty Boy here tells me you know where Branka's at." I strangled a laugh at Oghren's new nickname for Aedan, and my brother shot me a dirty look. I wonder what he'll end up calling everyone else? "I'm curious how that happened, I have to admit."

"It's in the game, Oghren." We'd decided to be honest and tell at least our permanent companions it was a game. I don't want a repeat of that accidental reveal, that's for sure. "You know what Branka was after: the Anvil of the Void. And you know as well as I do that she's become obsessed. She went through Caridin's Cross, then to Ortan Thaig. She found some records or something that told her that the Anvil is in Bownammar. So she's there, now, trying to navigate Caridin's traps."

"My Branka's the smartest dwarf in Orzammar. She'd be able to solve any nug-humping puzzles set up by some long-dead Paragon in no time."

I sighed. "Caridin isn't dead. He's a golem." I looked down at the ruddy-faced dwarf. "She doesn't have the manpower, Oghren." And she's not your Branka anymore. I refrained from voicing that observation aloud. "She lost a lot of people getting to Bownammar. And many in the house weren't warriors."

I hesitated, and Oghren gave me a piercing look. I knew from the game that he wasn't half as oblivious as he acted, but I was suddenly acutely aware of that under his sharp gaze.

"By the stone, spit it out! What is it, woman?"

I wondered what I'd done to make him dislike me. Was the bath that bad? "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. The traps ... they're lethal, Oghren. If you don't do them just right. She..." I winced, "ran out of people to use as fodder. She let them all die. All of them that weren't taken by the 'spawn. And all that's left of those is Hespith. And Laryn, technically, I suppose..." I shuddered.

"Just sodding say whatever you're dancing around, would you?"

I stopped, and Oghren's shouting drew everyone else's attention as well. I lost my temper. "Do you know what a brood mother is, Oghren?"

"Pretty boy filled me in when we were in Aeducan Thaig."

"Right. Well, Branka ... she allowed some of the women in her house – Laryn for sure, and Hespith, but there might have been others – to be taken and turned. She knew about brood mothers. She locked them in and used them to breed unlimited darkspawn to send through the traps, hoping eventually to make it through. Laryn's already turned; Hespith is halfway there, and mad to boot."

"Ancestors' sodding ass, you're the one who's mad. My Branka would never..."

"Yes she would. If you think about it hard enough, you'll realise. She's out of her mind, obsessed, and won't allow anything to stop her. I think you know she's capable of it."

"You're a sodding liar, you are. Just because you're his whore," he gestured to Alistair, "doesn't mean I'm going to listen to a sodding thing you say."

Alistair and Duncan, who'd been at the front of the group, turned to race in our direction; Aedan, who'd been walking with us, pulled his dagger and had it angled up under Oghren's chin before I could even blink.

"You have one chance to rethink your last statement, dwarf, or it'll be the last statement you ever make."

I held my hand up to stop the others, then put it gently on Aedan's arm, sliding my fingers up to grip the knife and pull it back from where it had just barely pierced Oghren's flesh. "Aedan. Stop. It's okay. He's upset, and understandably so. Let it go."

"Let it go? He called you a whore."

"And how many that we've met have said – or thought – worse? It's not worth it. It's okay."

"Don't do me any favours, whore. I can take this nug-humping-"

"Oghren. Shut. Up!" I was exasperated.

Aedan growled, "You want me to just let this little cretin-"

"Aedan." My tone had gone hard and unrelenting. I tried to soften it. "You don't know him like I do. Please." I tugged at his hand, still holding the blade. "Please."

He searched my face for a moment, for what I couldn't say, but finally nodded and withdrew his hand, sticky with Oghren's blood. "I'm watching you, dwarf. One word, a single one, and we will pick up where I left off."

Oghren slapped his hand to his neck, glaring daggers at me, Aedan, and anyone else whose eye he caught. I motioned for Anders to heal him, but the dwarf stomped off, muttering under his breath, before he had the chance. With an apologetic glance my way, Gorim went after him. Aedan wiped his hands on a rag, as Alistair walked up and wrapped his arms around my shaking frame, pressing a kiss to my forehead.