The ogre twisted about to try to grab at Maric again. He only barely avoided its grasp, rolling to one side once more. More smoke drifted by his face and made his eyes water, but he kept the creature in sight.
Letting out an ear-splitting bellow, the creature reared up and then brought its fists down onto the steps below it with incredible force. The impact sent out a shockwave that shook the entire structure, and Maric was thrown onto his back. His ears rung from the sound alone, and as he shook his head he suddenly saw the blue giant on top of him.
It snatched him up in its meaty grip, easily hoisting him aloft. Maric still held on to his sword, but it was now locked at his side along with his arms. He struggled, but the creature only squeezed him until his armor dug into his flesh. The pain of his bones crushing together was unbearable and he screamed.
When he opened his eyes, he was eye to eye with the ogre. He saw every ridge on its twisted horns, every vein on its bluish hide. It grinned wickedly, the rotten carrion stench of its breath filling Maric’s nostrils.
It could rip my head off with those fangs, he thought. Or just crush me into a pulp. Not a bad way to die. Far better than, say, slipping on a puddle or eating a chicken leg the wrong way.
He clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable. Suddenly a peal of thunder rang throughout the cavern and a bolt of lightning struck the ogre directly in the chest. Maric felt the heat of it, felt himself deafened by the wave of force and sound, and flew out of the ogre’s hand as it was propelled backwards. It roared in pain as Maric tumbled to the stairs, falling awkwardly on one leg and wrenching it badly. Agony burned through him. He would have kept falling down the stairs had there not been a great number of darkspawn corpses already there to stop him.
Maric groaned, unable to move, and watched as the ogre slowly got back up to its feet. The scorch mark left by the lightning bolt covered much of its chest, still sizzling and smoking. It glared angrily toward the top of the stairs where Fiona stood, smoke still curling from the end of her staff. She looked like an elven goddess of vengeance, streaked with ichor and soot, her teeth bared in fury.
“That’s right!” she shouted. “Come and get me, you blue bastard!”
The ogre roared up at her in response, bringing both its fists down upon the steps beneath it. The ground shook from the blow, and at first Maric didn’t realize what it was doing. Then he saw: It was digging its talons into the stone. With a great wrenching groan, the ogre ripped up a large piece of masonry from the stairs, leaving an impressive gap. Stone chunks flew off, one large enough to crush Maric’s head bouncing on a step not a foot away.
With a bellow of effort the creature heaved the masonry boulder up at Fiona. She lifted her staff, shouting as she summoned another spell. A white flare burned around her staff as another lightning bolt lanced forth from it, striking the boulder in midflight. With a resounding crack that filled the cavern, the boulder shattered into a cloud of dust and a thousand shards that flew in every direction.
Fiona stumbled backwards, pale and weakened, and the ogre began a lumbering charge up the stairs toward her. Maric pulled himself up to his feet, his leg burning with agony. He ignored it and began to race up the steps after the creature, taking two or three at a time.
The ogre got to the top of the stairs, towering over the mage. Though she held up her staff and made a feeble attempt to summon a spell, there were only swirls of light around her and nothing more. The ogre roared in victory.
Maric reached the ogre from behind and, shouting a loud war cry, he raced up the creature’s large back, allowing his speed to carry him. He plunged the dragonbone longsword between its shoulder blades, the enchanted blade thrusting through thick hide and bone. He bore down on the hilt with his weight, pushing it even deeper until the sword shook from the effort.
A gush of cold ichor erupted from the wound, splattering on Maric’s face. The creature squealed in torment, arching its back and clutching at the air with its taloned fingers. It tried vainly to reach for the impaled sword, twisting about frantically. Maric tried to hold on, but the hilt was slick with ichor and he lost his grip. Tossed aside, he landed on the dais, his head cracking forcefully against the stone.
The ogre arched back even farther, screeching and trying to get at the source of its anguish. Maric could see the tip of his sword jutting from the front of its chest. Slowly it teetered back, and then toppled. It crashed heavily to the stairs and then began to tumble down to the bottom, picking up speed as it went.
A cloud of smoke surged across his vision, stinging his eyes. He could feel the heat of nearby flames, hear the sizzle and pop of the darkspawn corruption as it burned. He heard Hafter barking loudly somewhere off in the distance, and then Duncan shouted. He couldn’t see anything at all. There was a ringing sound, too, and Maric realized it was his head. It throbbed dully and he couldn’t move.
“Maric!”
It was Fiona’s voice. He discovered that he had closed his eyes. The sounds of battle suddenly seemed very distant, as if they were happening somewhere else and not quite relevant to him. A sense of weakness and peace descended over him. His eyes fluttered open to find the mage looking down at him. Her face was pale with exhaustion, her short black hair coated in ichor that dripped down across her forehead. She was holding him in her arms, and he felt blood oozing from his head. She looked so frightened, he thought.
He wanted to comfort her, but couldn’t. His hand felt leaden and not quite under his control, and while he tried to reach up to her, he missed her completely.
“Maric! You need to get up!” Fiona shouted frantically. Then her attention was drawn by something he couldn’t see. She stared off, dread filling her eyes as the darkspawn humming suddenly got much louder. It filled the entire cavern, and Maric could almost picture another wave of darkspawn piling in from both passages.
“That’s too bad,” he muttered. “I’d hoped we’d gotten them all.”
“There’s no end to them.” She looked weary, the fight all but gone out of her as she watched the darkspawn horde’s inevitable approach. Kell yelled somewhere far off, and Hafter howled in pain.
He stared up at her and smiled wanly. Somehow it didn’t seem so terrible. He felt bad for young Cailan, but he knew that Loghain would do right by the boy. Far better than he could ever have. He had felt a hollowness for so long, an emptiness that just grew worse with each passing year.
Yet here, lying in her arms, Maric felt strangely content. He looked up at Fiona’s face and thought only how beautiful she was. Those dark eyes had seen so much suffering. He wanted to tell her that there was no more need to be frightened, that everything would be all right now.
And then a wave of magic struck them, a power colder than anything Maric had felt before. His vision clouded into a pure white, and then he sank into darkness. The only thing he found himself regretting was that he was alone.
16
“Duncan.”
The word penetrated Duncan’s brain only slowly, and it took him a moment to realize that he was gradually coming out of unconsciousness. Inch by inch he crawled up out of the fuzzy haze of pain that enveloped him. He remembered fighting. He remembered the ogre charging into the cavern, and then being overwhelmed by the endless waves of darkspawn. A spear had stabbed through his gut, gone right through him and out the other side. He remembered the blinding pain, the blood bubbling up out of his mouth and the creatures leaping atop him. And then—