“There!” he cried, pointing at a nearby building that had been revealed by the light. It had a dome of tarnished gold, one of the few ceilings they had seen that had not collapsed.
Rowan moved to help Maric carry Katriel, and they began to race as fast as they could toward the domed building. Loghain dashed after them, covering his head as great gobs of burning webs began to rain down from above. The giant spiders had halted their attack and were fleeing in every direction, their maddening screeches becoming a cacophony that threatened to drown out even the roar of the flames.
The stench of charred foulness threatened to become overwhelming, and along with it came a sudden suction from above. It was as if the air was being pulled upward, only to be replaced a moment later with a thick oily smoke that belched downward toward them. It spread quickly, blocking their vision and choking them with its thickness. It seemed more dust than smoke, coating their faces and arms and reaching like little hands down their throats and into their lungs.
Maric began to cough hoarsely and heard Rowan doing the same, even though he could barely see her right next to him. It was like stumbling through molasses. Rowan collapsed to the ground, taking the unconscious Katriel with her and pulling Maric along. He swore, forcing the inhalation of more of the smog and then gagging. They couldn’t see where they were going anymore.
Something touched Maric’s shoulder, and his first instinct was to swing his sword at it. Whatever had touched him apparently counted on that move, and a hand grabbed at Maric’s wrist to stop him. It was Loghain.
“Come on!” he shouted, his voice raspy from the effort.
Loghain pulled Maric to his feet, and together they collected Rowan and Katriel and began dragging them in the direction of the dome. All they could see in the swirling blackness was the bright aurora of fire that blanketed the cavern roof and the great droppings of flame that rained down. The air continued to be sucked away.
For a moment, Maric wondered if the entire roof of the cavern—with all its masses of webs and spiders along with it—was going to come crashing down on their heads. The searing heat was unbearable, and he was breathing it.
And then he passed out.
When Maric woke up, it was still dark and he was confused. He was lying down on something hard, and someone was wiping his face with a wet, cool cloth. He still couldn’t see anything. How much later was it? Were they still down in the Deep Roads? Was it safe? When he tried to ask a question, all that came out was a dry rasp, and he began to cough explosively, the pain racking his entire body.
A hand pushed down on him to keep him from sitting up, and he heard Rowan’s calming voice urging him to lie still. “Don’t move yet, Maric. I’m going to give you something to drink, but you need to drink it slowly.” A vial was put to his lips, and in it was blissfully cool water. He wanted to gorge himself as he realized just how much of that inky dust still coated his throat, but Rowan pulled the vial away before he could tilt it forcefully. Even so, he began gagging on the water until finally he turned over and forcefully expelled a huge amount of vile blackness from within him.
It came out in waves, leaving him weak and shivering. Rowan sighed and put the vial to his mouth again, letting him have a real draft this time. “That . . . could have gone better,” she muttered. “But at least it’s out.”
The water felt good going down, and Maric lay back, feeling the coolness reach the deeper parts of him. Then he opened his eyes, alarmed. “Is Katriel—?”
“Stable, but she hasn’t woken yet,” Rowan answered, annoyance creeping into her voice. “Loghain was able to suck most of the poison out. Lucky that she had wormroot in her pack, or that wouldn’t have been enough.”
There were clicking sounds in the background, differing from the clicking of the spiders, however. It sounded like rocks being smacked together, and after a moment, Maric realized that was exactly what it was. He saw some sparks in the darkness, followed soon afterwards by a gentle flame spreading.
“Do you think that’s wise?” Rowan asked.
“There’s been no sign of spiders,” Loghain commented from above the tiny flame, “and we’re starting to get fresh air again. I think the worst is over.”
Loghain was blowing on the flames to urge them to spread, and they did. The near-rotted pieces of wood he had piled crackled and popped as they caught fire, but as the flames got higher, they pushed back the shadows, and Maric could see again at last.
