There was also a new sound. Perhaps sound was not the right word, as she felt it far more than she heard it. She had been feeling it for some time, she realized. Sometimes it seemed like something whispering her name, or at least she thought it was her name. At other times it was little more than the softest, most alluring notes of a chorus carried to her from afar.
It had something to do with the darkspawn. That was all she knew.
They traveled for a long time. She wasn’t even certain just how long, and kept her mind focused on maintaining the light from her staff and putting one foot in front of the other. Her mind cried out for rest, but she nearly felt glad for the fatigue. She suspected they all did, as their pace made it almost impossible to think.
Kell remained in front, his faithful hound keeping step, and he stopped every now and again to kneel and furrow his brow as he studied the invisible trail. How he could pinpoint a single Grey Warden amid all this darkspawn filth, Fiona couldn’t begin to guess. But he did it. He turned down several passages and kept them going, until finally they reached another section where the dwarven masonry had collapsed, opening up into the inky black caverns below … the true home of the darkspawn, underneath the Deep Roads.
“There.” He pointed.
Genevieve stepped forward, enough to gaze into the breach and see that the debris leading into the cavern below was indeed scalable. “Then we go there,” she stated unequivocally.
“No, we do not. First we talk.”
She brushed by him. “I am not interested in talking.” She marched on ahead, scrambling down the rubble into the shadows below. Fiona went to follow, but Kell gave her a direct look and shook his head no. She paused, and so did the others behind her.
They waited. Genevieve could only go down so far before the lack of light prevented her from going farther. Fiona heard her eventually stop and sigh in exasperation. She turned around and marched back up the rubble until she stood in front of them. Her face filled with silent fury, she crossed her arms and glared at Kell. Hafter growled menacingly beside him, but he waved a hand to shush the hound and he complied.
“Is this to be another challenge, then?” she demanded.
The hunter studied her for a moment with his pale eyes, his expression reflective. The man was inscrutable at the best of times, and right now Fiona had no idea whether he was angry or simply concerned. “Genevieve, we have followed you,” he said slowly, “as you rushed heedlessly into one danger after another. We followed you into the palace. This needs to change.”
“We are not turning back.”
“I am not speaking of turning back.”
“The palace was not my fault,” she insisted. “We were led there by an illusion, one that tricked you just as it did me.”
“We were led there by your obsession and your lack of caution.” He was picking his words warily. Duncan glanced at Fiona with alarm, although he said nothing. She had to agree. This wasn’t likely to go anywhere good.
“And?” Genevieve demanded. “What do you propose, then? I am your commander. Are you attempting to replace me?”
“I have no interest in leadership,” Kell replied. “But I am the senior Grey Warden here after you. It falls on me to ensure this task of ours is performed to our best ability, and that requires caution you refuse to provide.”
“Maker take your caution!” she snapped angrily.
His eyes narrowed. “See reason, Commander.”
Maric stepped forward from behind Fiona. “I agree,” he said, his tone as reasonable as she’d ever heard it. “I’m willing to risk my life if it will save my country, Warden, but I’ve no interest in throwing it away.”
“Is that what you all think?” Her eyes went from him, to Kell, and then to Duncan. They remained on the lad, though Fiona wasn’t certain why. “You think I wish to throw my life away?” Duncan looked down at the ground, his expression awkward.
“I don’t know,” Kell responded. “We could all die. But if this is how we continue, we will die for certain.”
She scowled at him, her jaw clenching. Her arms uncrossed and hung by her sides, her hands clenched into fists. “Thank you, Kell,” she said crisply. “Your opinion is noted. Let us proceed into the cavern below.”
He hesitated. “I think you misunderstand what I mean. You—”
Genevieve’s gauntleted fist flew so quickly, Fiona didn’t even see it coming. Kell did, however, and he leaped back, adroitly evading her swing. “I said we proceed!” she roared, her face red and shaking from berserk rage.
With a loud growl, Hafter launched himself at Genevieve. She had time only to cover her face as the hound barreled into her, latching its jaws around one of her gauntlets and bearing the both of them down to the ground. They landed heavily, sliding along the ground. The hound whipped his head rapidly back and forth, snarling as Genevieve struggled to get him off.
“Hafter! No!” Kell snapped.
The dog didn’t listen. It continued to fight viciously, and even when the hunter moved in to try to physically pull him off he didn’t respond. Finally Genevieve gave a great heave, shoving the large hound off of her.
Hafter landed only a foot away, Genevieve’s gauntlet still in his mouth. He immediately scrambled back to his feet, dropping the gauntlet and ready to charge back at her again. Utha darted in and grabbed the hound around the neck. Hafter snapped at her in surprise, but then turned his attention back to Genevieve, fangs bared.
Kell held his hand out to Genevieve. “I apologize, Commander. He—”
The hunter didn’t dodge the second punch. She struck him across the face hard, shouting in fury, and he stumbled back. Hafter barked loudly, outraged by the fact he wasn’t being allowed to protect his master. Genevieve jumped up and ran at Kell, but this time Maric and Duncan were able to stop her. They tackled her from behind, and in her berserk rage she was almost able to get away from them. Her bare fist was pulled back to strike Kell, who stood stunned only a foot away, yet Duncan held it back.
And that was when Fiona saw it. All along the Commander’s hand, and continuing down into her wrist and likely farther, was an ugly stain. The very sort of stain that Duncan had told her about earlier. It wasn’t a bruise, or anything natural. It looked as if her flesh were rotting.
She gasped in shock.
Utha saw it, too. Then Maric and Duncan saw it clearly in the light. Genevieve noticed what they were doing and followed their gaze to her hand, and saw that its corrupted flesh was plainly visible. The fight simply drained out of her. She let her hand drop and went limp, and both Maric and Duncan stepped carefully away from her.
“What is that?” Maric asked, staring at her hand in horror.
Genevieve grimaced. She walked over to where the gauntlet lay and picked it up. For a moment she said nothing, simply wiped off the hound’s spittle and ignored the fact that Hafter growled at her viciously from nearby. “It is the darkspawn taint,” she said, almost too quietly to be heard.
“But …”
“It catches up with us all eventually, Maric.”
Kell stepped forward, rubbing his chin where Genevieve’s fist had connected. He seemed chagrined but not angry. With a gesture and a serious look, the hunter quieted Hafter, and then tugged one of his own leather gauntlets off and held up his hand. A stain was visible all along his forearm, much smaller than Genevieve’s but still prominent. “I have it as well,” he said flatly.
Utha rolled up a sleeve of her brown robe. A series of dark stains traveled up much the length of her arm. She made several gestures and Kell nodded. “It began when we came into the Deep Roads,” he said, “along with the dreams.”