There and Back Again Ch. 081-082

I whispered, "Go back. Over there. Let me talk to him."

Alistair shook his head. "I'm not leaving you here; he's clearly deranged."

"I know, but I think he's sensing the taint in you, and it's confusing him. He thinks you're darkspawn. Just...let me try, okay?"

Reluctantly, without breaking his gaze, Alistair stepped backwards, guided by Aedan. When they were across the cavern, Duncan finally seemed to relax, turning back to me.

"How did you get here, Sierra? Where are the others?"

"They're just...just over there a ways. What happened, Duncan?" I approached slowly, carefully, reaching out to put my hands on his shoulders.

"I...the...I don't know. The Archdemon, and then..." He stopped and clutched at his head, swords dropping to the ground at his feet. "It was in my head. So beautiful, but so wrong. Talking, singing, crooning to me. I couldn't block it out, couldn't make it stop." The cadence of his speech was odd, unlike his usual formal tone. He ran a ragged hand through his wild hair, hard enough to pull out several strands. I reached up to take his hands in mine.

"It's okay. It's over now. You're safe. Can you still hear it?"

"It wants me. It wants me to join them, to lead. I won't do it! I won't listen!" His voice rose in pitch and volume as he spoke, and Alistair took an involuntary step back towards us.

I lifted my hand, gesturing him back, then gently pulled Duncan by the hand over to the wall in the back of the cavern. I took off my pack, digging through it until I found what I was looking for. I slid down the wall, encouraging Duncan to sit beside me, handing him the flask I held.

"You must be tired. Here. Drink." Anders' sleeping potion was tilted back and swallowed; Duncan gazed trustingly at me, like a child might look at his mother. "I'll sit on watch. You're safe. Why don't you put your head down?" I put my hand on his shoulder, pulling gently until Duncan lay with his head in my lap. I took off my gloves and stroked his messy hair, pulling sweat-slicked strands off his forehead, rubbing his scalp softly. "That's right. Just sleep."

It took a few minutes, but soon his soft snores could be heard, and I gently shifted until his head rested on my pack and I was freed. I climbed quietly to my feet and headed over towards the others.

I answered everyone's unspoken question as soon as I had Alistair's hand firmly in mine. "The Archdemon did something to him. It sounds like it tried to recruit him. He's fighting it, but he can hear them now." I frowned, feeling dirt flake off my face as I did. "I think those darkspawn were trying to get him to go with them. I don't think they were going to attack him. He managed to refuse, but then when he felt your taint, he thought you were more of them. He couldn't sense me, so it didn't confuse him as much."

"Are you saying, Bellissima, that our fearless Commander is becoming a darkspawn?"

The Antivan voice made me wince; I'd just spilled secrets in front of multiple non-Wardens. Stupid, Sierra. Duncan will have your head for that when he...if he...I stopped that line of thought before I could carry it too far.

I looked at Aedan and Alistair, who sighed and nodded. I took a deep breath. "Not exactly. But Wardens do have a connection to the horde and the Archdemon, and it gets worse the older they get. If they wait too long, they go mad and become much like ghouls. Look, you're not supposed to know this, okay? I will deny ever having said it, if any of you admit to knowing it." I looked between Zev, Oghren, Sten, Shale, and Gorim, waiting until I got a nod of understanding from each.

"Braska!" Zev swore, turning to pace, shooting Aedan an agonised look. "How long?"

"Fifty years, give or take."

"But surely...Duncan is not that old? He should have years..." Gorim looked confused.

"I...we...Avernus improved it. It used to be thirty years. But the improvements don't work on those so far gone. Duncan's been a Grey Warden for almost thirty years." I trailed off, feeling guilty, like I'd somehow violated his privacy. Screw the Grey Warden secrets! I don't owe them anything.

"Where is he now?" Anders asked.

"Sleeping. I gave him one of your potions. He should be out for a few hours."

"I want to check him over, if I can. Can I accompany you over there? I'll back off if he wakes or gets agitated."

I nodded and followed Anders back over the carnage. "Nice spell, by the way. I didn't know you guys knew the Storm of the Century."

Anders grinned. "I like ice. And Jowan's pretty good with lightning...we've been discussing it for a bit, wondering if we could make it work. Neither of us had ever actually seen it."

I smiled back, then stumbled, forcing myself to watch where I was stepping. "Messy, though."

He chuckled under his breath, awkwardly stepping around a genlock corpse. "Yeah."

We reached Duncan without him appearing to stir; I felt Anders' aura flare as he ran blue, glowy light from Duncan's head down through his body. It took a while, and I was practically bouncing with impatience.

"So? What's the verdict?" I looked over to see Anders looking quite grey and pale. "Anders?"

He shook his head, some of his colour returning. "He's fine. Uninjured, as far as I can tell. But the taint...I had no idea it could progress like that. Andraste's flaming knickerweasels, that's depressing."

I flinched. "Sorry. If it's any consolation, it'll take a lot longer to happen for you." Us. "And the effects won't be as bad, on things like the reproductive system."

"So that's a recent change?"

I nodded. "Just before we sprang you from the Circle. There's an ancient Grey Warden blood mage who's been doing...distasteful...research for two centuries, using blood magic to keep himself alive. He found ways to slow the taint, and to alter the unfortunate side effects, like infertility. Morrigan helped."

"I'm selfishly glad." He took a shaky breath. "Maker, I don't know what to do about this, though. He doesn't have any of the usual signs of madness...I can't fix this, can't even start to ameliorate the symptoms."

"Do you mean he's going to stay this confused?"

"I just don't know."

I sighed. "I'll stay with him. I know him better than most here, and I'm not tainted. Would you tell the others to make camp nearby? We'll have to wait until he wakes, and hope for the best."

Chapter Eighty-Two: Confusion and Revelation

I sat near the sleeping Duncan and waited, waited and sat. It was really, incredibly, boring. I had nothing to do, and we didn't want to risk any of the other Wardens being too close when Duncan woke, so I sat mostly alone. Sten and Gorim wandered over to sit for a while, no doubt at Aedan's or Alistair's urging, but making small talk when everyone was clearly stressed and scared was awkward, and talking to Sten was always a bit frustrating, so it didn't really help. After a few minutes, when it became clear that they weren't improving the situation, they both went back to the group, leaving me alone again. Zev and Prince stayed with me a while, just sitting in companionable silence. Somehow I didn't feel the need to chat with Zev, to fill the silence; after all the times he'd followed me on Aedan's orders, I was used to sharing silence with him, and it was comforting just to have him there.

I contemplated the feeling of oppression that I couldn't shake, which had only worsened the further into the Deep Roads we'd travelled. The constant pressure of the darkspawn in the back of my head had become a deep ache, and I wondered if I'd ever feel clean again. I'd tried to keep my spirits up as we walked, but with Duncan obviously ill or damaged by the Archdemon, and no end to our time in the Deep in sight, it was becoming unbearable.

I sank down into fetal position beside Duncan, one hand gripping Prince's stiff fur, the other clinging to Zev's hand, and just concentrated on breathing.

Finally, after what felt like days, but was probably only four hours, Duncan stirred. Zev headed back to camp; Prince stayed and watched Duncan warily. I was by Duncan's side in a moment, squeezing his hand and murmuring reassuring nonsense while his mind cleared itself of its drug-induced sleep. His eyes were less hazy, when he looked up at me, and I could see that he wasn't as confused as he'd been. I helped him sit up, and then settled myself beside him.

"Did all that really happen, then?"

I nodded, and he sighed, rubbing his face and then running his fingers through his hair.

"Tell me I didn't actually attack Aedan and Alistair?"

"It's okay. It wasn't you. The Archdemon..."

"It doesn't matter why. The fact remains, I'm a danger to this mission. To the other Wardens."

He climbed to his feet before I could respond, clearly frustrated and scared. As are we, Duncan. I took his offered hand and stood myself. He reached down and pulled one of my daggers from the sheath, handing it to me pommel first.

"Will you stay close, and keep this ready? If I show any signs of attacking the others, use it. Promise me?"

I flinched, staring at the blade in dismay. Could I do it? Kill Duncan to save the others? Alistair would never forgive me. I knew, though, that it was the only right thing to do. I'd try really hard not to kill him - knock him out, if I could - but I'd do what I had to if it came to that. I nodded.

I tucked my hand through his arm, and we shuffled off towards the others' camp.

"Maker's ass, what happened here?" Duncan had paused, staring at the corpses that ranged from frozen to thawed, electrocuted, and dismembered.

"Don't piss of a couple of mages," I muttered, and Duncan shot me a piercing gaze. I shrugged. "It's called Storm of the Century. A Tempest and a Blizzard. It's quite effective."

"So I see."

We finished picking our way across, then headed down the hall towards camp. I could tell when we got close enough that Duncan could sense the other Wardens; he stiffened, but didn't falter. I squeezed his arm, and he smiled ruefully at me.

Aedan and Alistair were standing out in front of the camp, swords sheathed but hands gripping the pommels. Duncan walked slowly, as if testing his own resolve, but didn't stop. He put his hands out in front, showing he wasn't carrying a weapon. I smiled encouragingly.

"I am sorry, Aedan, Alistair. I apologise for my actions. I was...not myself. I am better now."

They both relaxed, approaching and exchanging man-hugs. Duncan apologised over and over, making Aedan and Alistair both chuckle. Alistair came over to me, pressing a kiss to my forehead and putting his arm around my shoulders. Even over filth and the smell of the Deep Roads, I could smell that scent that was all Alistair, and I nuzzled as close as I could get. I missed that smell, missed the feel of him and his strong arms and smooth skin and rippling muscles and...Oh, great, Sierra. Smart. Get turned on in the middle of the Deep Roads while covered in dirt and Maker knows what else...

We settled at the camp for an early rest, planning to set out early. We ate more roasted deepstalker, then I snuggled up between Alistair and Duncan and went to sleep.

After a few hours, we rose, packed up, and got moving. Gorim pointed out signs of the Legion's presence - a long-extinguished fire, remains of packaged rations, chalk marks on the walls that looked random, but were actually arrows. It was encouraging; we were near the front, and had directions to follow to find it.

We walked for hours in virtual silence; no one wanted to talk about our worries, and we couldn't force ourselves to make small talk with everything that had happened.

It was nearing time to make camp, but everyone was reluctant, wanting to make it to the Legion if possible; finally, exhausted, I called a halt. Aedan shot me a look, and I sighed.

"Aedan, I know. But I'm tired, and I can't imagine it's any easier for the other non-Wardens to keep up. Not all of us have Grey Warden stamina." I flicked my gaze over to Zevran, Oghren, and Gorim, who looked ragged. Sten and Shale, of course, looked fine.

Getting the hint, he finally nodded. We tucked ourselves into the curve of a wall in a natural cavern and set up camp. I slept fitfully, as did everyone else; the oppressive aura of the Deep Roads just exacerbated everyone's already grim mood. Duncan chose not to sleep, not wanting to risk seeing the Archdemon in his dreams. I gripped his hand as I slept.

Duncan had, much to my relief, wrangled agreement from everyone travelling with us to defend ourselves and the other Wardens with lethal force if necessary, in case he got confused again; no one was happy about it, but at least it wasn't just me.

After a brief respite, we got moving again. Gorim assured me it was mid-morning; it could have been any time, as far as I could tell, in the perpetual dusk of the Deep Roads. I was stiff from sleeping propped up against the wall, and was in the process of stretching while walking, when we came across a patrol of Legion dwarves.

They were standing, weapons drawn, when we came around a sharp corner. When they saw us, they were startled, but put their weapons away.

"Ho the Legion!" shouted Oghren, much to everyone's general amusement.

"What in the...Grey Wardens?" One dwarf pulled off his helmet, stepping forward in shock. He had scruffy, curly brown hair and a Grizzly Adams beard; no tattoo, but his accent wasn't noble. He had a long, pale scar running down one cheek, and his hands were calloused from years of swordplay.

Duncan stepped forward, crossing his arms over his chest and bowing. "Greetings. I am Duncan, Commander of the Grey, and these are my Wardens and companions."

"Atrast vala, topsiders. I am Ean, and this is Tipper. Ancestor's shiny arseholes, what are you doing down here? Don't you know this is a Blight?"

I laughed, covering my mouth at the hilarious curses. Duncan smothered a grin. "We are aware."

Tipper took off his helm, and a long mane of coppery read hair cascaded out. Make that her helm. She had a bold tattoo across her forehead and around one eye. "Oh, let me guess. Orzammar won't pledge support until the throne is settled. Which means...you're looking for the Paragon."

We all gave wry smiles. Aedan stepped forward. "You have a good grasp of the politics of the situation."

The two Legion dwarves exchanged glances. "Come. We'll take you to Kardol."

We followed the two dwarves for a couple of hours through a warren of tunnels. I was glad we'd found them, not sure we'd have been able to find our way through without a guide. "Which is the point, of course," Tipper had responded when I mentioned it. "'Spawn aren't that smart. They get lost, and we can pick them off easier." Apparently the Legion camp moved frequently, even when near the front, to avoid the darkspawn ambushing them while they slept.

We came to an area that opened on to the trench, a massive stone bridge spanning the gap. Just like in game. There were a couple dozen dwarves around, some seemingly sleeping, some cooking or performing other domestic tasks, some appearing to stand watch. And I guessed there were probably more patrols out, plus small groups heading back and forth from Orzammar for supplies...I'd have bet there were pushing fifty dwarves, just for this Legion front. And Gorim had explained that there were multiple fronts, each with their own little tribe of dwarves. Just how many 'dead' dwarves are there wandering around?

In the middle of the enormous cavern stood a dwarf who appeared to be the leader; groups and individuals approached him, talked for a while, and then left as he gestured to the next. I assumed it was Kardol, though honestly I couldn't really remember what the dwarf was supposed to look like. He was stocky, even for a dwarf; his forearms were probably as big around as my thighs. He had an elaborate, dark auburn beard, close-cropped auburn hair, and a tattoo that dominated much of his forehead and face.

We drew the attention of every dwarf there as we exited the narrow tunnel we'd come from. Several stopped to stare, a few even pointed; most continued with whatever they were doing, but it was painfully obvious that all of them were watching us. Many of the dwarves wore full helmets, and it was sort of like the feeling at the Circle Tower, with so many faceless men in heavy armour standing around.

Kardol turned towards as us we followed Ean across the room. He returned Duncan's formal bow, then the two men clasped forearms and grinned.

"Atrast vala, Duncan! I had heard you were dead, but I see the rumours were unfounded. It is good to see you, Salroka."

"Kardol. Yes, I survived, but few of the other Wardens did. It has been an...interesting few months."

"I'm surprised to see you down here. I figured, with the Blight, you'd be up on the surface, organising armies or some such."

"Yes, well, we need armies to organise, first. And with Endrin's passing..."

"Ah, yes. We also are at a loss; without a King, we have no orders. So for now, we hold on. As does the rest of Orzammar, I expect."

"Just so. Which is why we are here. Can we talk somewhere, privately?"

Kardol nodded, and gestured at a dwarf standing across the room. The other dwarf, a balding, furry, short bear of a man, came over, and, ignoring us, began dealing with the lineup of dwarves that had formed near Kardol while we talked. Kardol turned, leading us away.

"Your companions can wait over there," Kardol offered, pointing to an area with some stone benches, and a fire pit with some sort of enormous animal - bronto, I assumed - roasting on a spit over it.

Duncan gestured, and everyone except Aedan, Alistair, Gorim, and I headed over there. The four of us followed Kardol down another tunnel and into a small, dwarven-made room. There was an actual door, one of the huge, metal dwarven doors they used to seal off Deep Roads entrances, and a bunch of crates. That was all. A small opening at the back of the big storage room was the only sign that the 'safe' area might be larger than it appeared. I wondered if there were sleeping areas and such back there, and if so, why the Legion moved around so much.

Kardol took a crate off of another, pushing both back, then did it again; he gestured for us to sit as he wrangled his own crate down and climbed up.

"Who're your friends, Duncan?"

We introduced ourselves; Aedan and Alistair got respectful nods, Gorim, when he took off his helm, received an inscrutable frown, and I got a curious appraisal from the dwarf as we were introduced.

"Welcome, Wardens. Gorim, I have to say, I had heard Sereda Aeducan's second had been banished to the surface. I never expected to see you here, of all places."

Duncan cleared his throat. "That's part of why we're here, Kardol."

"Somehow I'm not surprised."

Gorim spoke up. "Kardol, you and I both know Sereda knew enough about the Legion to survive her exile and get here. She knew the maps by heart, knew your way-stations and the locations of the fronts. Have you seen her?"

Kardol's piercing gaze transferred from Duncan to Gorim. "Why do you care, Surfacer? You couldn't save her from exile, and you can't take her back now, even if you could find her."

Gorim flinched, and I winced. I reached out to put my hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "You're right. I can't. But Endrin is dead, Harrowmont is a sniveling sycophant, and I'll be damned if Bhelen becomes King without a fight, not after what he did to her, and to Trian. We need her."

"Whatever for? She couldn't return. She can't take the throne. She's been exiled!"

Duncan cleared his throat, drawing Kardol's attention. "If she had the backing of a Paragon, she could."