The trek to the Dead Trenches was long, very long, and they came across more evidence of Branka's passing as they went. The Veil felt strange down there, strong, but...odd. Like it was different amidst the dwarven ruins. Everyone's sense of time was completely thrown off by this point, and everyone but Oghren had trouble sleeping and rising.
Then they came to the Archdemon.
First, Kitranna felt an enormous mass of darkspawn, larger than any other group that she had felt before. It was like a pressure in the back of her head, the oncoming of a migraine, a taste like bile and dust in her mouth. The group came to a deep crevice in the ground, and looking over the edge, they saw the fires from hundreds of thousands of torches as an army of darkspawn marched through the pit, to some unseen exit from the tunnels.
Then something swooped over their heads, ignoring them, and they all ducked—whatever it was blazed with the Taint and warped the Veil around it, bleeding magic as it went.
It let out a deafening bellow, and they saw it was a dragon, but warped and twisted, its hide black as if it had been burned. It flew above the darkspawn army, spitting violet fire as it went. Its wings were ragged, and it was unsure how it could even lift itself from the ground. They could smell it as they passed, a smell of things rotten, things long dead, ozone and lyrium and blood.
They watched it wing out of the cavern they were in, and once it was gone, they all collectively let go of the breath they were holding.
“We have to kill that thing?” Kitranna exclaimed, and then looked down, into the pit. “And the whole army? How are we going to do that?”
“Perhaps we deal with one task at a time,” Morrigan suggested, putting a hand on Kitranna's shoulder and then quickly removing it.
Kitranna nodded, giving herself a shake. “Right. Right.”
They continued on, careful and quiet to avoid drawing the attention of the Horde.
They met a Legion of the Dead contingent as they were fighting a group of darkspawn, presumably a contingent of the larger Horde that had broken off. They assisted the Legion them in killing them.
“Atrast vala, Gray Warden,” said the Legion's leader when they finally finished off the last of the creatures. He had a brand on one cheek, marking him as casteless. He peered at her intently. “I've never seen one of your kind in the Deep Roads.” he looked over their group. “Most of you, actually.”
“What kind is that?” Kitranna asked. “An elf or a mage?”
“Either,” the dwarf said. “Why are you here?”
“Long story,” Kitranna admitted. “We're looking for Paragon Branka.”
“Who put this dull idea in your head?” he exclaimed. “We've got other things to worry about in Orzammar!”
“Well, it's not my bureaucracy that's tying everything up,” Kitranna said, folding her arms. “The point is, we need to get to Branka. Otherwise I can't get Orzammar's armies—and that's a problem.”
He snorted. “Figured it was something like that. The lords just can't make up their minds, can they?”
“No, not really.”
He waved a hand. “You wanna go digging blind—that's your problem.”
“Have you seen any sign of her?”
“No—not that I was looking, really. More distracted by the giant dragon.”
Kitranna's heart fell. “You saw that too, huh?”
“Kind of hard to miss.”
“Yeah.” Kitranna rubbed the back of her head.
He shook his head. “Normally, I wouldn't care—Blight's a surfacer problem, we have the darkspawn at our borders all the time. But that thing...” he frowned.
“Bad news.”
“The worst.” he tilted his head back. “The surge on the surface should give us a break,” he said. “But that's just from the darkspawn.”
“Is there something worse?” she tilted her head to one side, confused.
“Things have been strange here,” he admitted. “Usually it's just fighting darkspawn, but lately there's been...” he trailed off and waved a hand. “Doesn't matter. Not my job to worry about ghosts and legends.”
“Ghosts?” Kitranna narrowed her eyes, and exchanged a look with her companions.
“There's always a ghost or two around,” he said. “There have to be. But it's been getting worse recently, and we've had people come back babbling about Rock-Wraiths--” he shook his head again.
“Rock-Wraiths?” Oghren exclaimed.
“A couple people said they saw them--don't put much faith in it, but with everything going on...” he trailed off. He rubbed his forehead. “Look—if you really want to go and look for the Paragon, be careful. Things're weirder than usual.”
“Right.” Kitranna nodded. “I guess we'll head out, then.”
“Good luck, Gray Warden.”
They went ahead, across a massive pit by way of a huge stone bridge that had clearly once been beautiful, but time and darkspawn had worn it down to its barest formation. Across the bridge was an enormous door that they could not get through, but could get around.
Everything was so large. The ceiling was so high that it was almost like being on the surface again, and the buildings, even the ruins of them, were more enormous than any building any of them had ever seen. The darkspawn infested everything, but even they were small in comparison to the massive ruins they inhabited.
They found a series of catacombs amidst the ruins, coffins that had been upended and desecrated by the darkspawn. Although the sarcophogi had been ruined, there were many still-functional traps, and they could only assume that the darkspawn had found a way to reset and reuse them against intruders.
Finally, the only space still open to them was a series of tunnels that were infested with darkspawn. They pushed ahead, as they found neither Branka, the Anvil, nor Branka's body. They encountered wave after wave of darkspawn, and managed to fight through all of them.
Eventually, they came across darkspawn encampments, but these ones had the peculiar...meaty features that the Circle had had when the demons took it over. That didn't bode well in the slightest.
Then, they heard the voice.
They were in a low tunnel, the smell of blood and rot thick in the air, and a woman's voice came to them, soft and low.
“First day they come, and catch everyone.”
Everyone glanced at each other.
“Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.”
The voice grew louder as they continued on into the tunnels, and the smell of rotting flesh grew more intense.
“I really don't like the sounds of that,” Kitranna said.
Oghren frowned, tilting his head to one side as he listened for the voice again.
“Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.”
“Where is that coming from?” Zevran asked, glancing at the walls.
“Fourth day, we wait, and fear for our fate.”
“We really need to find whoever is saying that,” Kitranna said, glancing at the walls.
“Fifth day, they return, and it's another girl's turn.”
“I know that voice,” Oghren said at last.
“Who is it?” Kitranna wanted to know.
“Hespith! One of Branka's--” Oghren went pale. “We need to find her.”
“Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams,”
“This is not looking good,” Kitranna said, shaking her head.
“Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day we hated as she is violated. Ninth day she grins and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she's become the beast...”
They rounded a corner, and the sheer smell of the room they entered knocked them back. The room was filled with the stench of rotten meat, and meat covered the walls and floor as if a demon had been living there. But there was no demon—just a dwarrowdam in a ragged tunic and breeches.
“Hespith...” Oghren breathed.
The dwarrowdam turned and they saw that her eyes were fever-bright, her skin pale and gray. Her gaze skipped over them and settled on Kitranna, at the front of the group.
“What's this?” Hespith said. “Elves? Humans?” she glanced at Oghren. “More kin, but not clan. Impossible. I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of stranger's faces and open doors.”
“Wynne...?” Kitranna said, not taking her eyes off of Hespith. “Can you...help?”
Wynne moved forward, a healing spell at her hands. Oghren stepped behind her, somewhat hesitant. Hespith didn't protest as Wynne laid her hands on the dwarrowdam's face.
“This...is like no corruption I have ever seen,” Wynne said. “There is Taint, and a fever, and several other things besides...”
“Corruption?” Hespith's head jerked up, out of Wynne's hold. “The men did that. Their wounds festered and their minds left. They are like dogs, marched ahead, the first to die.” she shook her head. “Not us. Not me. Not Laryn. We are not cut. We are fed. Friends and flesh and blood and bile and...and...”
“What is she talking about?” Kitranna asked the group, none of whom understood. Wynne tried another healing spell, her lips pursed, but nothing seemed to be making any change.
“All I could do was wish Laryn went first.” Hespith continued, her head falling to one side as if it were too heavy to hold up. “I wished it upon her so that I would be spared. But I had to watch. I had to see the change. How do you endure that? How did Branka endure?”
“What happened?” Kitranna asked. “What's going on?”
“They do what they are allowed to do,” Hespith said, looking down. “What they think they must. And Branka...” she shook her head. “Her lover, and I could not turn her.” her voice cracked. “Forgive her...but no, she cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become.”
“What's she done?” Oghren demanded.
Hespith tilted her head to the other side and straightened her back somewhat. “I...I will not speak of her!” she declared. “Of what she did—of what we have become! I will not turn!”
Oghren held his hands up. “Look, Hespith,” he shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “This is—we're just lookin' for Branka. I've gotta find her.”
Hespith shook her head. “I will not become what I have seen! Not Laryn! Not Branka!”
She bolted, very quick on her feet for someone who was so ill with the Taint, and they chased after her. She was the best chance they had of finding out where Branka went. However, they lost her in the ruins.
Her voice rang out again.
“She became...possessed. That is the word. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil.”
They pressed on, only one more path available to them, Hespith's words in their ears though the woman herself was nowhere to be seen.
“We tried to escape, but they found us. Took us. Turned us...”
“Who did this?” Kitranna called out, trying to get Hespith's attention. “The darkspawn?” she turned to her companions. “Since when do darkspawn take prisoners?”
“The men, they kill. They're merciful,” Hespith's voice came again. “But the women, they want. They want to touch, to mold, to change until you are filled with them...”
Wynne was now looking quite ill. The group was more hesitant as they went through the ruins, through a large and ominous door that was strangely intact, but there was no other way to go.
“They took Laryn. They made her eat the others, our friends. She tore off her husband's face and drank his blood.”
No one said anything, just pushed forward.
“And while she ate, she grew. She swelled and turned gray and she smelled like them. They remade her in their image. Then she made more of them.”
There was a smell. Blood and meat and something rotten, something dead.
“Broodmother...”
Then they saw her. The Mother.
Enormous, larger than an Ogre, barely recognizable as anything that had once been a dwarrowdam. Skin gray and covered in bleeding sores, her face quashed and torn. Her hands were swollen and twitched erratically, and her lipless mouth opened in a raw roar.
They fought her, of course, but darkspawn poured into the cave, drawn by the Broodmother's cries. The darkspawn prevented them getting at the Mother, and the mages attempted to get at the Mother with spells and arrows, but the darkspawn blocked them at every turn.
They had been fighting for what felt like ages when someone new entered the fray. Someone slammed into the Broodmother from above, leaping off of an overhead cliff right on top of her. The Broodmother let out another cry, but muffled, as whoever it was attacked her again and again, until finally the Mother was silent.
They finished off the rest of the darkspawn, and looked to see who it was who had aided them.
Standing over the Broodmother's corpse was Culwydd Aeducan, slinging a battered hammer over one shoulder. She was covered in blood, panting heavily, her tunic torn, her face and arms covered in bruises and cuts, but she was alive. She leaned hard on her warhammer, as if it were the only thing keeping her standing.
Everyone was quiet for a moment, gathering their strength, before Zevran approached Culwydd.
“You have the most excellent of timing, my dear lady,” Zevran said, taking her elbow so she could take her weight off her hammer.
Culwydd smiled. “I heard you were going through the Dead Trenches,” she said. “I couldn't let you all do that on your own, just for my brother.”
“We certainly appreciate it,” Zevran said.
“That's where they come from,” said another voice, and they looked up to see Hespith on a ledge high above them. She looked down at the dead Broodmother with hollow eyes. “That's why they hate us. That's why they need us. That's why they take us. That's why they feed us.”
“Hespith...” Oghren breathed.
“Is that her name?” Culwydd said. “She lead me here.”
“Did she?” Kitranna said.
Culwydd nodded. “The beast is dead,” she called up to Hespith. “You need not linger here anymore, Mistress.”
Hespith shook her head. “The true abomination is not that it occurred...but that it was allowed. Branka...my love...” her shoulder slumped. “The Stone had punished me, dream-friend. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal.”
She turned, and left.
“Hespith!” Oghren called. “Aw, dammit—she could've told us where Branka is--”
“We need to do something, don't we?” Wynne asked, looking up at the ledges. She glanced at Culwydd. “Do you know where she might have gone?”
Culwydd shook her head. “There are thousands of tunnels down here,” she said. “I'm not familiar with the area, so I don't know.” she looked up sadly at where Hespith had been. “She has the Taint pretty badly. I don't know how much more you could do for her.”
“The Warden ritual, perhaps...?” Wynne suggested.
“We don't have the supplies,” Kitranna said.
Oghren took half a step forward, then shook his head. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Why are you so intent on finding her?” Morrigan asked. “Is this not your wife's lover?”
Oghren shrugged. “Sure,” he said. “Sure, she's Branka's girl. Pretty awkward whenever she came around the house. But we—we know each other, and...” he trailed off. “We need to get moving,” he grumbled, looking down.
“Yes,” Culwydd said, and they all looked at her.
“Why are you so eager to join up with us now?” Kitranna asked.
“I changed my mind...” she paused and shook her head, avoiding Kitranna's eyes. “Thought you'd get killed, and then Orzammar would eat itself alive, then the whole world, maybe, seeing as how you're Wardens. So I followed your trail.” she scowled. “I found Hespith, listened to some of what she said—she was just rambling, but she brought me here, to that thing, and...”
“And what?”
“And if what she says is even half-right, Branka needs to be dealt with.” there was a dangerous gleam in Culwydd's eyes. “She disgraces the name of Paragon.”
“We don't know what happened!” Oghren protested. “You saw—Hespith was half-crazy with fever and Taint--”
“And you see that thing,” Culwydd snapped, pointing her hammer at the Broodmother. “That thing, which Hespith said used to be a dwarrowdam. And she said Branka allowed this. I will get answers from Branka for what has been done here.”
“Or we could avoid this entirely and return to Orzammar, saying that Branka has blessed whomever we so choose, and then this business will be done with,” Morrigan said. “That would be the wiser and quicker decision.”
“No,” Oghren insisted. “Warden—you said we'd find Branka. We're almost there—I know we are!”
“Where would we go from here?” Kitranna said, gesturing around at the caves. “You said yourself—there are hundreds of tunnels here. If Branka isn't dead yet, she will be soon.” she pointed at Culwydd. “You could just come back with us now, and--”
Culwydd shook her head. “She must be close,” she said. “The Anvil is somewhere here, and so is she. The darkspawn are just—they're just a distraction.” she scowled. “Go back if you wish. I will find this so-called Paragon.”
Kitranna pursed her lips and exchanged looks with her companions.
“Warden...” Oghren said in a warning tone.
Kitranna gritted her teeth. “Yeah—yeah, that is what we said we'd do...” she trailed off, weighing her options.
She didn't know enough about dwarven culture to know if even a Paragon's endorsement would help put Bhelen on the throne, if the Assembly was too deadlocked. She hardly knew anything about Bhelen as it was—she had no idea if he would even honor their agreement. She thought he would, but she couldn't be sure. All of this was on half of a hope.
Culwydd, however, had come back to help them. She had saved them from the Broodmother. From the way it sounded in Orzammar, people had liked Culwydd far more than they liked either Harrowmont or Bhelen now.
Yes, she was strange, and she could definitely use a bath, and there was a good chance she was more than a little crazy from wandering the Deep Roads for so long, but the fact remained that she had helped them in battle where her brother had not. As a matter of fact, it was Bhelen who sent them on this mad quest to begin with, and had possibly killed his siblings.
And Branka might have done something very, very bad. Kitranna looked at the dead Broodmother, and felt a fire in her belly.
“We'll go,” she said. “She can't be far off—we'll go and find her.”
Morrigan scowled. Kitranna gently put a hand on Morrigan's shoulder, then just as quickly took it off. Morrigan's expression lightened a bit.
“If this is what you wish...” Morrigan said.
Kitranna nodded. “It is. Let's go. Any idea where she might be?”
Culwydd actually had some idea, as did Oghren. Oghren could read Branka's trail, and even if Culwydd didn't know this particular Thaig, she could see patterns in the tunnels and halls. So they followed the trail, as thin and cold as it was, and at long last, they came to Paragon Branka.