She had to kill it quickly. Slay it before it became aware of her and she might be able to avoid alerting the horde that inevitably lay in wait.
Genevieve moved to the side of the tunnel, pressing against the wall behind a stone support pillar. It was hardly large enough truly to hide her, but the darkness shrouded her here. These creatures could see far better in the dark than humans could, but they were not immune to it.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she waited. She peered around the pillar, waiting for the darkspawn to show itself. The minutes passed. Sweat dripped off her forehead and ran into her eyes, but she ignored it.
Soon her patience paid off. A figure appeared in the distance, just barely discernible against the green haze of the lichen. It shuffled toward her, its raspy breathing clear in the vast and empty silence. A hurlock, then, she noted from its size. She readied her sword. Even a hurlock could be killed in a single blow if she was quick.
She pressed as flat against the wall as she could, stifling her own breathing and listening for the faint sounds of the creature’s steps. It came closer … and closer. The crunch of a piece of nearby stone underneath its foot signaled the moment to attack. She stepped out from behind the pillar, preparing for the silent swing—
“Genevieve.”
It was Bregan. He stood there in front of her, and she knew it was him even though he wore a black suit of darkspawn armor and was so covered with diseased flesh he could very well have passed for one of the creatures. His white hair was gone, and his eyes had reddened until they were the color of blood, but it was him.
She stopped in midswing, howling in dismay. Andraste’s mercy, what had happened to him?
“Bregan?” she asked, disbelieving.
He nodded. He seemed calm, and those bloodred eyes flicked to her sword with interest. Genevieve lowered the blade and then dropped it to the ground. It landed with a dull clatter. Should she kill him? The knowledge he possessed needed to die with him, but what if he had already given it away? What if there was something he could tell her?
Looking at what he had become, part of her wondered if she should kill him even so. Her brother had sacrificed everything for her, even a semblance of a life. Could she do any less for him?
“We have kept the darkspawn away, for a time,” he said. “I knew you would come, and I wanted you to arrive safely.”
“Who is ‘we’? Bregan, what has happened to you?”
He stepped toward her and took her arms gently in his hands. Both enthralled and horrified by those eyes, she was unable to look away. Of all the things she had imagined upon reaching Bregan, the idea that he wasn’t some unwilling captive was not one of them. The idea that he might have turned into some … monster … was even worse.
“This is what we become,” he said. “If you wait long enough, the taint spreads within you and becomes this.”
“That’s horrible!”
“No, this is freedom!” Bregan shook her emphatically. “We have a chance, Genevieve. A chance to do what no Grey Warden has ever done. We can end the Blights forever!”
The words sank in only slowly, and as she realized what he was saying she looked at him in puzzlement. “End the Blights? How?”
“It requires a sacrifice. A large sacrifice. But we have to be willing to make it.” He seemed so resolute, his tone so certain. “Please, if you come with me, we can explain it to you.”
“Are there other Wardens here?”
“There is a darkspawn emissary.” He put up a finger to silence her as he felt her tense in response. “I know what you are thinking, and I thought the same, but he is not like any darkspawn I have ever seen. He is something different, an ally. Come, listen to him speak. That is all I ask.”
“Have you gone mad?”
Bregan seemed to consider the question. He released her arms, and Genevieve stepped back, her mind whirling with questions. Maybe she was the one who had gone mad. Of all the times for it to happen, the strange music off in the distance swelled and pressed in on her mind. She tensed and fought it off. She had to know what this was, what had happened to her brother.
“Perhaps,” he pondered. “I don’t know.”
She ran to him and took one of his hands in hers. His skin was cold and clammy, but she ignored it, looking pleadingly into his eyes. “Bregan, we have to get you away from here! Before something terrible happens!”
“And go where?” he asked. When she had no answer, he chuckled. It was a mirthless, cold sound. “Where could I go that I would not be killed instantly on sight by anyone who saw me? Where could you go?” He gently tugged on her gauntlets. She let him do it. They came off and revealed the stains of corruption below. “We are dead, Genevieve. Dead the moment we drank the blood in the Joining, in the name of stopping these Blights by any means necessary. That is the Grey Warden way, isn’t it? And here we have our chance.”
“But …”
“Did you actually come here to save me?” Bregan released her hands and she jerked them away, hiding them behind her back. “All this way, through darkspawn and who knows what else, to bring me home?”
“I came to stop you.” She frowned, her calm returning to her by inches. “I came to prevent a Blight from occurring.”
“Then prevent it.” He held out a tainted, withered hand to her. She stared at it dispassionately, wondering if that was truly the fate that awaited her. Had the ancient Grey Wardens known that? Had this happened before, she wondered, and this was why they created the Calling? Death seemed like it would almost be preferable.
But she had to know. The order had a noble cause, one that had saved countless lives and would save countless more. She had wanted to be a Grey Warden since long before the recruiter even came to her village—and what if there was something to what Bregan said? Stopping the Blights. Forever. That was worth a sacrifice, was it not?
Genevieve took Bregan’s hand. She was shaking like a leaf, and couldn’t force herself to stop. “What … what about the others?” she asked hesitantly.
“I can’t make promises about them.”
“Are you certain this can be done, Bregan?”
He grinned, displaying teeth that were stained and eerily sharper than she had ever remembered them being. Like darkspawn teeth. “I’m not certain about anything anymore,” he said.
And then he led her away, down the tunnel and into the darkness as the distant music swelled into a chorus that drowned out everything else. The group woke up only to discover that Genevieve had vanished during the night. It was not difficult to guess where she had gone. Kell cursed himself for a fool for even agreeing to her suggestion of standing watch, though Maric had other ideas on that front. She had left them asleep and unguarded. Anything could have come upon them in the night and slain them all—and for what? So she could follow her obsessive drive to locate her brother. He wasn’t even convinced that this was truly about stopping the Blight, not to her.
But the others still believed. Duncan in par tic u lar seemed most aggravated by Genevieve’s departure, storming about the campsite and ranting about how stupid she could be. It was an odd way to talk about one’s commanding officer, Maric had to admit, and he wondered just what had occurred between the two of them inside her dream.
Utha watched the lad pace, and then indicated that they needed to follow after Genevieve. The others said nothing at first, staring at each other awkwardly, and Maric realized what they were thinking. Chasing after their commander was a Grey Warden concern. Indeed, even if they still thought that stopping the coming Blight was a possibility, that, too, was their concern—but not his. Maric had already performed his task, and they couldn’t reasonably ask the King of Ferelden to follow them into what looked like certain death.
He looked at Fiona then, and found her studiously avoiding his gaze. He had woken up alone, and they hadn’t exchanged words since. In fact, she said very little. The elf didn’t seem angry, as far as he could tell. Perhaps she was simply trying to pretend it hadn’t happened, or that it had been a moment of solace and nothing more. Perhaps he had spoken too much of Katriel. He had lain with his former elven love, too, in these Deep Roads; it was impossible not to see the comparison.