Chapter 84: First Day They Come

The next days brought several larger engagements with darkspawn, but also the first of the ghosts and undead I had expected in Bownammar. Anders told us the Veil was very thin, hardly a surprise in this place, and all manner of things had reanimated themselves. There were also enormous tainted spiders, which grossed me out in game and were a thousand times worse in person.

The undead were actually easier to fight, in many ways, than darkspawn; they were less intelligent, and though difficult to kill, they were easy to maim. And despite being rotting tissue, they smelled less bad than the 'spawn, and did not get us nearly as sticky as darkspawn ichor. I had a slightly more challenging time of it; they could see me. No walking up behind, bold as brass, to slit throats; I had to dodge and parry and fight like everyone else. The spiders, I stayed away from. Selfish, probably, but I had neither the agility of Aedan or Zev to jump around as necessary, nor the strength of the warriors to protect myself. I cursed myself for not learning how to use a ranged weapon. And I was definitely the least skilled at hand-to-hand combat of everyone with us in the Deep Roads, though at least I did not entirely embarrass myself.

Often, after any skirmish, Zevran would spend a while with me, debriefing. While I had only enough skill and focus to keep myself from being skewered, he apparently had enough left over to watch me during the fights. I was sure Aedan asked him to keep an eye on me, protect me, and I was just grateful that he didn't interfere with me fighting at all. But his observations were keen, and usually too accurate for comfort, and I spent a lot of time being reprimanded for various perceived failings. I knew he was trying to help, and I appreciated it, but it was depressing being informed how short I still fell from where I needed to be. Alistair obviously wanted to defend me, which would have really pissed me off; realising that, he bit his lip and held his tongue, though the scowl on his face made his opinion on the subject obvious.

We finally made it to what I had assumed was the darkspawn Forge Master. It was a genlock with more armour than most, a bow, and an enormous hammer. And not a magic user in the bunch, which limited my effectiveness a little. Unwilling to face the Forge Master alone, given it was unlikely I'd be able to kill it in one strike, I stayed with the group as we fought our way through. Anders cast a blizzard that dealt with most of the archers, and I took out the rest with my daggers, one at a time. When Alistair reached the Forge Master, he drew its attention while the rest of us took turns darting in to stab or slash at its back. After one particularly vicious swing of its hammer, I heard a sharp crack and then Alistair screamed and fell back. Bel stepped up, his shield covering Alistair's retreat; Anders was with him, so I redoubled my attack and managed to bury my dagger in its neck. It sank down, its armour sticky with darkspawn blood, but Oghren grabbed the hammer and Aedan the bow before they could be soiled as well.

By the time I reached Alistair, Anders had healed a broken arm, and he claimed to be feeling fine. I gave Aedan a look, and he sighed and called a halt to rest. I made Alistair eat and drink, not that getting Grey Wardens to eat is tough, and poked and prodded at his arm myself before feeling reassured that he suffered no lingering effects.

No one wanted to sleep there with all the corpses, so we rested for an hour and continued on. We came upon a temple-like area that was vaguely familiar from the game, and after battling a couple of ogres, found the Legion of the Dead shrine. Sereda would not permit us to take the armour or weaponry strewn around, though Aedan took the key and we were attacked by spirits; the spirits were easy to kill, and didn't leave corpses, which was nice.

We all agreed to rest inside the shrine; it had a locking door, and was relatively clean of the taint that infected the rest of the Deep Roads. Sereda spent most of the time reading inscriptions on statues, and memorising details of the shrine to share with Kardol and, eventually, the Shaperate. She was enraged to learn that the Legion had been considered equivalent to a noble house, and that fact seemed to have been conveniently left out of the Memories. I didn't envy the Shaper who would have to deal with an angry Sereda when we got back.

I doubted that anyone slept well, perhaps with the exception of Alistair, who needed it to recover from his wound. After I gave up on sleep, I spent some time chatting with Anders and Jowan. Anders, upon closer inspection, looked like hell. He admitted to his dislike of small spaces and the underground, and I was sympathetic. The Deep Roads certainly weren't my favourite place to be. Jowan, however, seemed to be coping well. He'd slowly been gaining in confidence since his Joining, and he was now no longer reluctant to offer an opinion or a suggestion when we were making decisions. He was still quiet; I hoped it wasn't still out of fear that one of us would change our mind and summarily execute him.

I recalled from the game that we would be getting close to the Broodmother's area, and before that, Hespith. I eyed Oghren speculatively, as he took a pull from his beard flask, and wondered if he'd believe me sooner rather than later. I hoped so – mutual avoidance was only going to get us so far. He belched noisily, and I sighed. Maybe it will get me far enough...

When Alistair woke, everyone packed up and ate quickly. We unlocked the temple and let ourselves out. I noticed Sereda whispering what looked like a prayer, or perhaps it was a promise; she turned away resolutely and we headed into the next tunnel when Aedan unlocked the door.

As we walked, I kept expecting to hear Hespith's creepy voice echoing down the corridors, but it never happened. I supposed it was a bit melodramatic, and couldn't help but laugh at myself critiquing the melodrama of a video game while I was living inside one. We defeated a couple of small groups of darkspawn – easy once I'd disabled the Emissaries – and then we came out into a large chamber, to finally find Hespith.

The dwarven woman, or perhaps ghoul was closer to the truth, sat in a corner, rocking, and singing the creepy poem to herself mindlessly. Strewn around her were corpses, of both darkspawn and dwarves, mostly dismembered. The odours of feces and rot and taint mixed horribly, and I gagged at the eye-watering stench. Aedan dragged Oghren over, then crouched down to speak with Hespith quietly. Everyone listened keenly; knowing what she was going to say, the horror of her revelations, I stayed away, near the slightly less pungent hallway, and waited.

After some discussion, I saw Hespith suddenly look up to stare directly at Aedan, eyes clearing for just a moment. She nodded, touching his arm, and then closed her eyes. I didn't even see him draw a dagger, but caught a flash of silver as he stabbed it deeply into her abdomen, angled up towards her heart. She gasped once, and then slumped down, dead; Aedan's aim had been true, and her death was instant. He closed her eyes gently, and then stood, wiping his hand and dagger off on a rag. Everyone else looked ill, but sympathetic. Zevran approached him and they spoke, quietly, for a moment. I was intensely glad my brother had someone with him who understood the hard choices he had to make.

Oghren avoided my gaze and went to stand by the next doorway, axe in hand, looking impatient. Everyone else, understanding we were in for a nasty fight, got ready and followed him. I wanted to go through the door first, seeing as the darkspawn wouldn't see me, and I could double-check what was on the other side. Aedan refused; I got the impression he was worried I'd take on the Broodmother alone. I had no intention of doing that, though I wondered if I might not be able to get up behind her and slit her throat during the fight.

We went through the door together, Aedan and Zev slipping off to the sides and seeming to disappear, Anders and Jowan huddling behind the warriors nervously. I followed behind, daggers drawn, breathing slowly to try to quell the panic I felt creeping in. The Broodmother was around a corner, sitting immobile in a depression in the stone floor. There were sacks and clumps of grey, quivering, fleshy stuff that I assumed must have been the equivalent of darkspawn afterbirth scattered about; splatters of the same were on the walls. A couple of larger sacks looked like they contained bodies, curled up in fetal position; genlocks, I realised, that must have been stillborn.

The Broodmother was even more horrific than I'd expected. In game it was sort of disgusting, but nothing could have prepared me for this monstrosity. It was like Jabba the Hut mixed with a giant octopus all in one. Her flesh was pink-ish, bloated, and oozing clear mucous; there was blood drying all down her front, coating a couple of the many horrific breasts and dribbling onto her distended stomach. She had to be ten feet tall – even Sten looked small by comparison – and I'd have bet she weighed at least a tonne. She was grossly fat – no, pregnant, I realised with dismay – but her wrinkly bald head looked somewhat like the dwarf I knew she'd once been.

She opened her mouth to scream when she saw us, and I realised her teeth were pointed and all protruding out like some sort of cannibalistic sucker fish. I stumbled to a halt, too revolted to move, too frightened; fortunately my companions were more resilient, though equally disgusted, if the looks on their faces were anything to go by. As one, the warriors engaged tentacles, and the mages began casting magic to slow and weaken the Broodmother. Aedan appeared out of the shadows at her back, and I guessed he must have had the same thought as I – get behind her and slit her throat.

An unexpected tentacle shot up through the stone floor, grabbing him around the waist and tossing him. He tucked and rolled, landing less awkwardly than he might have, and spun to start hacking away at the wiggling appendage. No one was even close to the body of the Broodmother.

I knew she spat acid, and hoped she wouldn't see me soon enough to do that, as I finally got control of my legs back and began edging around the room, dodging flailing tentacles and my companions both. I got behind her just in time for a wave of darkspawn, mostly genlocks who I assumed would be this monstrosity's offspring, to come pouring in through a narrow tunnel off to one side in response to the Broodmother's screams. Anders began throwing fireballs, while Jowan kept his concentration on slowing and cursing the Broodmother; the few darkspawn that survived Anders were executed by Sten and Alistair as they came forward through the thick, greasy smoke.