There And Back Again Ch 145

Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five: Barrier to Entry

All of our forces had lined up in ranks, five across, in front of the opening leading further underground. There weren't as many as I'd hoped, between the injuries and those left to guard our rear. The soldiers themselves seemed tense, as though their numbers were weighing on their minds as well. We'd been subjected to hours of stress punctuated by periods of intense combat; though the Wardens faced the worst of the fighting, it had to be affecting the soldiers, many of whom were probably farmers or similar prior to the Blight.

And there's no way for someone to be become used to this sort of thing, Warden or not.

But for all that, they were, by now, professionals. Nate gestured, and the fidgeting stopped as they prepared to move.

With all of the rooms and passages behind us explored and soldiers guarding them, we could be fairly certain the Architect and his darkspawn -- and, apparently, the ghoul Utha -- were somewhere in front of us, but we had no way of knowing exactly what we would be walking into. We couldn't guess at numbers, had no way of knowing what traps --magical or not -- the Architect might have arranged, or even how deep these tunnels went. For all we knew, the Architect could already be long gone. And we could only hope we would find Anders and Solona somewhere along the way.

Unharmed, please Maker, if you're listening.

I wanted to scout ahead, make use of my curious, still-unexplained invisibility to most darkspawn to see what lay before us. However, Aedan had completely put his foot down, and to my dismay, everyone -- Nate, Trevian, even Alistair -- agreed with him.

"Be reasonable, Sierra. This isn't like before, when it was unlikely for you to come upon the Architect the minute you came through the door. He could be literally right around the corner, and he can see you," Aedan explained, speaking slowly as though talking to a particularly dense child.

I scowled. "We don't know that. I attacked him last time, stole his mana. All the darkspawn can see me

after

I attack them. We don't know if he could see me before that. And if he was that close, I'd be able to feel him."

"The risk is too great. If he can see you, you could be captured, even killed. We've seen that he can control his darkspawn; if he can see you, he can direct them to attack you. You're not going in there alone."

I didn't agree; any potential danger to me was more than outweighed by how valuable the information I could glean by scouting ahead was. We'd managed much better in the past than the game would indicate -- in the Deep Roads, even in Redcliffe and the Circle though for different reasons -- because of the warning I could provide. But I could see by the stubborn look on his face that Aedan was not going to change his mind -- and at some point, I had sort of agreed to follow orders in the field.

Besides, short of climbing over the group of soldiers between me and the tunnel -- none of whom, I was sure, would be cooperative -- there was nothing I could do except give my brother dirty looks. Which I did. A lot.

Sighing, Aedan led the Grey Wardens to the front of the ranks, followed closely by the Legion of the Dead. Once set, weapons in hand, Aedan whistled loudly and we all began moving forward. We made no pretense at stealth; after the fighting we'd already done, there was no chance that any darkspawn further in were unaware of our presence. We would just have to hope that superior skills -- and hopefully numbers, though we couldn't be sure -- would carry the day.

It felt sort of bad ass, if I was honest -- like one of those movie poster moments, when the superheroes stride bravely towards the villain, confident and righteous.

All we need are a few capes, and a stiff breeze, maybe an explosion in the background.

I snorted out a laugh, and Alistair, clearly feeling it too, shot me a dazzling grin.

His grin -- and my temporary good mood -- dimmed as we progressed deeper and deeper underground.

The tunnel we were in widened progressively as we went, and the soldiers behind us kept readjusting their lines, trying to ensure that the entirety of the tunnel was obstructed and that as many as possible were at the front to meet the enemy when the time came. The Wardens spread out, the Legionnaires right behind us filling the second row. The torches, carried by a few well-protected soldiers scattered throughout the ranks, cast eerie shadows on the walls and ceiling, the acrid smell of smoke and decay and taint unpleasant, though like in Bownammar, we'd grown somewhat accustomed to it.

We stumbled across a lone scout --

lookout?

-- almost immediately after turning the first corner. I wasn't sure how much warning he might have been able to provide for the darkspawn behind him --

they have to know we're here by now!

-- but it was moot. Before anyone else could react, before the hurlock could so much as open his mouth to shout, an arrow pierced his neck, and he dropped to the ground, black blood fountaining out of the wound, air bubbles churning it into a disgusting black froth. I looked around to see Nate lowering his bow, a grim scowl marring his handsome features.

The body was slung to the side for later burning, and we stepped past it without further comment.

We'd gone perhaps two hundred feet further --

just how big is this place, anyway?

-- and around a couple of broad curves when we finally met a group of darkspawn. I could see no reason for their placement; the tunnel hadn't led into a room, and there was nothing to differentiate this spot from any other we'd passed, but we came around a corner to the sight of the largest group of darkspawn we'd encountered since we'd entered these Maker-forsaken tunnels.

With screeches and grunts, the darkspawn rushed us as soon as they saw us; moving into our by-now familiar battle lines, the Grey Wardens and Legionnaires carved into probably more than fifty 'spawn, the soldiers prepared to deal with any who made it through that in one piece. Arrows flew over our heads, exchanged between Nate's archers at the back and a bunch of genlocks wielding bows, and I felt Alim draw on his mana and cast first a barrier, then an enormous storm over the rear of the horde. The arrows plunked harmlessly against the barrier, and I heard darkspawn scream as the storm ramped up, raining down lightning like Odin in some story from Norse mythology.

I could feel two emissaries in the back begin to cast; with almost vicious glee I seized their mana, throwing shields over everyone that I could see, delighting in the shouts of surprise as darkspawn attacks that should have been successful bounced. As I turned back to the battle around me, I engaged a genlock carrying a jagged longsword and a battered plank as a shield. With the benefit of my strange darkspawn 'invisibility', I easily buried my dagger in its flank between the plates of its ill-fitting, scavenged armour when it tried to make a lunge at Alistair. I heard my husband shout 'duck!' from behind, and I dropped to one knee as he swung his heavy longsword over my head, decapitating the hurlock I hadn't seen on my other side. Alistair hauled me bodily to my feet before I could be trampled -- there wasn't much space, despite the enormous size of the tunnel, with so many combatants involved. We exchanged quick smiles and dived back into the fight.

With the emissaries helpless without their mana, the darkspawn's organisation suffered, making them easy targets. Every swing of a Warden weapon near me hit its mark, and darkspawn started dropping all around me. Unfortunately, so did soldiers -- with less experience, less expertise than the Wardens, there were a handful of soldiers being dragged back out of the way by their fellows. As awful as it felt to watch injuries happen, I couldn't spare the time to stare and nurse my feelings. There were more darkspawn to kill.

Seeing no sign of the Architect, I crept past Alistair to the side of the crowded tunnel, working my way to the back to begin cutting down archers when Alim's storm finally abated. The darkspawn archers were bedraggled, burnt by lightning and soaked by magical rain, and none of them noticed me until it was too late. I slit one throat, then buried my blade in the abdomen of a genlock before any of the others had even noticed. I was relieved that there didn't appear to be any sort of coordinated effort to locate me; whether the Architect hadn't considered me a risk or just hadn't fully understood the implications of my strange ability, I didn't know.

But I'll take it!

As I looked across the room, I could see that Zevran and Wulf had more opposition -- but also considerably more skill -- and between the three of us, the archers and two emissaries died while the rest of the battle raged.

Those deaths proved the turning point, however; without any ranged backup, the soldiers were able to engage, thinning the ranks of darkspawn, and there were literally piles of darkspawn corpses around the rest of the Wardens and Legionnaires. I backstabbed a shriek trying to flank Trevian, earning myself a tired smile, then made my way back towards Alistair, stabbing and slicing with impunity. I didn't think I'd ever stop enjoying the ability to so effortlessly rid the world of the monsters. I felt useful, even needed, something I'd never had back on Earth, and it felt good, even if it involved cleaning a lot of darkspawn blood off of myself.

I've come a long way since being that scared little girl who couldn't use a weapon to save her life...literally.

When the battle was over, several of the Wardens had suffered minor injuries, one of the dwarves had taken a bash to the head that knocked him out, and some of the soldiers sporting various wounds had to be helped -- or carried -- back to the camp on the surface. No one had died, however, and none of us could sense the taint in any of the injured troops.

Small mercies.

Alim spent nearly the last of his mana on healing, vocally wishing for Anders' help with the worst of the injuries but refusing to take one of our few remaining Lyrium potions. He was concerned Solona or Anders might need them once we found them -- and none of us could disagree. We hadn't brought along a bunch of extra potions, having no idea the two mages would be anywhere near the Architect.

Aedan sent Alim back to camp with the injured, much to the elf's dismay; a confused Justice accompanied him while nursing a broken arm that would require more healing finesse than Alim had. I almost laughed as I heard the frustrated elf trying to explain the concept of bones and muscles to the curious spirit. I'd assumed Vander's knowledge of injuries would translate, but it seemed like sometimes Justice preferred learning things for himself to accessing those memories.

We left the darkspawn bodies where they lay, deciding to burn them when we were finished. I wasn't looking forward to that -- the stench of burning darkspawn in enclosed spaces was not something I wished to experience again.

Though I suppose marrying a Grey Warden makes it sort of impossible to avoid.

Not wanting to waste any more time, or allow the Architect more chances to prepare -- or escape -- Aedan ordered the remaining Wardens, soldiers, and Legion dwarves to form up. I gripped my daggers, anxious and overly ready for the whole thing to be done. I smiled grimly at Alistair, and he reached up to touch my cheek gently with the back of his gauntlet.

"Let's do this." I exchanged nods with Aedan, and we turned to step forward.

The tunnel ran around another sharp turn, and I noticed the walls were becoming much more regular, the ceiling smooth and squared off, parts of damaged statues and railings casting odd shadows in the torch light.

We're back in the proper Deep Roads.

It was probably one of the oldest sections I'd ever seen, even the long-lasting dwarven architecture crumbling. There were no active lava channels, and I assumed the lava flow had been blocked by the cave-in that had blocked the area off from the rest of the Roads.

The passage finally came to an end, tapering abruptly down to a familiar round metal portal. But instead of the large dwarven door I expected in such a frame, there was a mound of rock blocking most of the opening, leaving a space perhaps three or four feet across through which only one or two people could pass at a time. We paused, eyeing the stone uncertainly, and Aedan gestured to Trevian to come forward.

"Well, that ain't natural," I heard one of the other dwarves assert, and Trevian nodded as he reached us.

"That's no cave-in," he agreed. "That rock looks...melted. This was built -- I'd guess by magic, but whether recent or a long time ago I couldn't say."

"Any way to know what the other side looks like?" Aedan asked.

The Legion Commander snorted. "Stone sense isn't that good, son." Aedan pouted at the diminutive address, and I grinned at his discomfort, making the dwarf chuckle. "Based on the fact that we're in the Roads, somewhere, it's likely to be an old Thaig. No idea which, or what shape it will be in, though. There's no maps of this area that I'm aware of -- even finding Kal'Hirol was a miracle."

"The broken door doesn't seem like a good sign for finding much intact," I mused.

Alistair nodded. "Might as well look and find out." He shifted his heavy shield, rolling one shoulder and twisting his neck until it popped faintly. "Rolan with me, we'll go through shields first. Everyone else behind. Stay tight until we know what we're dealing with."

The former templar nodded wordlessly, stepping close to my husband so the two of them could squeeze through the narrow opening side-by-side. Aedan, Zevran and I crowded in directly behind them, with the rest of the Wardens on our heels. I rested the back of my hand on Alistair's armour as we all began to step forward as one.

"Well, the Architect is definitely in there," I commented before we'd even reached the narrow gap; I could suddenly feel the malevolent, enormous aura of his mana, familiar from my time spent in his dungeon. It was a sensation that made me want to run screaming for a bath, though I couldn't recognise whatever spell he'd cast. I felt Alistair stiffen at the same time, and by the tenseness in Rolan's posture, I could tell both men had felt it as well. I reached out and tried to grab at the mana like I'd done in the Mother's lair -- with an equal lack of success. It was like trying to hold onto the ocean, both too large and too slippery to get a proper grip; I grappled with it for a moment, then sighed in disappointment. "Be careful," I warned uselessly as I felt Alistair start to move forward again.

It was a tight squeeze; not only did the fallen rock block much of the passage's width, but it also hung low, forcing most of the men to duck. I was briefly thankful that Shale wasn't with us --

as invaluable as she is against darkspawn, she'd never fit through this gap

. Even I was feeling slightly claustrophobic, but fortunately it didn't last long: ten shuffling feet in, the passage opened up again, and Alistair and Rolan raised their shields and stepped confidently forward to give the rest of us space.

Only for all of us to stop where we stood, dumbfounded, blocking those behind us from coming inside.

We found ourselves in a massive cavern, dimly lit by some source I couldn't quite identify. The ceiling was higher than that in the Orzammar commons, and there were old, crumbling buildings -- whether residences, businesses, or something else I couldn't say -- carved directly into the walls like in the dwarven city. The Thaig extended back beyond our sphere of light, dark shapes in the distance blurry in the wan light. But that was not what drew our attention and left us open-mouthed in shock.

Instead, what we stopped to stare at was a massive, greenish-grey dome, translucent but slightly obscuring what was inside it -- like looking through poor quality coloured glass. It stretched from a few feet in front of us as far back as the eye could see, reaching probably twenty feet in the air, and spanning most of the width of the Thaig. It pulsed and swirled slightly, thicker clots of the greenish substance slowly flowing across the surface like scum on a pond. It was obviously a barrier of some sort -- and it was the source of the magic I'd felt being cast, I was sure of it.

Inside, if I squinted, I could see there were darkspawn corpses strewn across a massive open square, black ichor still slowly leaking out of them, indicating they were recent. Several dozen feet back, I could see a shape that could only be the Architect, his abnormal height and ridiculously pointed mask making him recognisable despite the distance. Standing next to him -- and brandishing a dagger pointed in his direction -- was a short, squat, dark figure that I assumed must be Utha.

And off to the side, chained to a massive, unnatural stalagmite, was the pale form of Solona. I could see her slightly moving, her blond head bobbing, and was relieved --

at least she's alive

. I couldn't tell if she had any injuries, couldn't see her expression, couldn't tell if she'd seen us, or was even fully conscious.

What's that monster done to her?

It took me a moment longer to identify the dark lump in front of her as Anders. The mage's still form was crumpled on the ground, and I had no way of knowing if he was dead or alive. I couldn't feel either mage's mana pools, but I knew I couldn't differentiate between death, mana depletion, or some other form of incapacity anyway.

I looked back to the Architect; I couldn't do anything for my friends, but hopefully if we were able to disable the creature who'd put them in this position, it would be over soon enough for us to help them.

I couldn't hear anything -- the barrier evidently blocked sound as well as obscuring sight -- but it was clear the Architect and Utha were communicating. The former Warden waved her free hand wildly while keeping the dagger trained on her former ally; the Architect tilted his head in that way I'd seen when he was 'listening' to the ghoul. I tried again to seize his mana -- still unsuccessfully.

I hadn't realised we were all blocking the passage as we stared at the surreal tableau in front of us. At a shout from behind we squished forward letting the rest of the Wardens, a bunch of dwarves, and then Nate and Trevian through. When the two leaders -- noble and commander -- saw what had us spellbound, they both turned, relaying orders to stop more people from flooding into the cavern. With only two darkspawn left alive that we could see, we no longer needed the numbers -- the Architect was powerful, but he wasn't about to overcome eight Wardens, a dozen Legionnaires, and a handful of soldiers, not to mention me and Nate -- and whatever happened with the Architect, it was probably best that we had fewer people watching.

No one dared approach the barrier.

For all we know it could kill anyone who touched it -- and I'm not going anywhere near that disgusting green stuff under any circumstances.

We tried yelling, but the ghoul and the darkspawn either couldn't hear us, or ignored us entirely. I couldn't imagine that they were unaware of our presence, but it was impossible to be sure. Nate fired an arrow, but it bounced off harmlessly.

After a quick discussion, Rolan and Alistair both tried to dispel the magic holding up the barrier, with no noticeable effect. I tried on my own, and then tried again curled against Alistair's chest while he held me. The magic of the barrier felt vile, as tainted as the being who'd created it, and even the cuddle part of the cleansing didn't make it any less unpleasant. Although I could sense the barrier with my templar abilities just like the one on the secret passage, I couldn't seem to get hold of it the same way. I was able to weaken it slightly by chasing away the magic in the surrounding area, but not enough to make it drop.