THE OTHER BROTHER

The Deep Roads Expedition

Part III

9:31 Dragon

"Stop, Carver! Stop moving!" Garrett commands, wrestling Carver's squirming arms.

Carver opens his eyes. The faces staring down at him are out of focus. He blinks several times. It wasn't darkspawn which had grabbed him at all. But their hands pressing down his arms and legs, trying to calm him, is no mistake.

"D-Did we kill them all?" Carver woozily asks, wincing as he drags in a breath.

"Almost. But we made sure to give every one of them wounds to lick." Varric says with a chuckle.

"Try to relax," Anders instructs, kneeling at Carver's side, "I have to remove the arrow before I can attempt any healing. It's impossible for even magic to heal flesh around an implanted object."

Carver relaxes his body, letting his head sink back against the ground.

"On the count of three?" Varric offers.

"Ahhh!" Pain surges hotly through Carver's chest.

With an unceremonious yank, Anders holds up the bloody arrow.

"Maker take you!" Carver croaks.

Anders tosses away the arrow. "What? He said three."

After covering the puncture wound with his hand, a nimbus of pale light emanates between their contact. Carver's head begins to clear. He stares up at darkness while the tightness in his chest fades. The sensation of muscle and skin knitting back together is quite something to experience. Healing wasn't a skill in his brother's repertoire.

Carver sits up and coughs. An ache dully throbs in his chest but any appearance of a wound is completely gone. "Can't keep me down." He cracks a small smile.

"No unnecessary heroics," Garrett says sternly, offering his hand to Carver. He helps Carver to his feet. "We don't have the resources to patch you up every time."

Carver smirks. "Someone's got to be the hero. I say my turn."

"I'm sorry," Anders speaks up. "I let them get the drop on us. It's been too long since I've been down here. I wasn't paying enough attention."

"We'll be fine if we stick together." Garrett pats Anders on his shoulder. "Let's go."

They move with newly inspired caution with Anders their new lead. The mage insists on it. The lyrium embedded in the stone provides enough light to see their way. No one lets a hand stray from their weapons. The silence buzzes in Carver's ear, drilling into his head and leaving him feeling dizzy.

"That's strange," Anders says softly. "I was sensing a patrol of darkspawn up ahead, but now they're gone. Just... vanished."

"Let's make sure." Garrett responds as softly.

After a few hundred feet, they nearly trip over the bodies strewn across the passage floor. Carver uses the heel of his boot to roll one onto its back. There's no mistaking a darkspawn.

"Well I'll be a nug's uncle. Isn't that Bodahn's boy?"

Carver turns to look but another wave of dizziness arrests him. He pinches the bridge of his nose and waits for it to pass. The dizziness subsides but the space between his temples throb. Shake it off, Carver, he scolds himself. The mage gave you some faulty healing; you can handle it. He joins his brother and companions down a slant of rock, where they gather around a stocky dwarf with short, wavy pale hair and notably beardless.

"Hello." Sandal grins, oblivious or not bothered by the blood splattered across his face.

"It is," Carver laughs, relieved. "The great warrior stands victorious."

Garrett sinks to one knee and looks into Sandal's vivid blue eyes. "Are you injured?" He glances over Sandal's blood-splattered appearance and is relieved to see none of the blood soaked into the boy's clothes belong to him.

Garrett sweeps an arm toward the dozen corpses they had to wade through to reach him. "How did you do this?"

Sandal offers something to Garrett. A stone?

"Boom." Sandal explains.

"And how did you do that?"

They all look at the frosty ogre monument frozen in mid-charge, not twenty feet away. Its icy edges glimmer in the lyrium's blue light.

"Not enchantment." Sandal explains. The young dwarf waves them goodbye, seeming to understand he's wanted back at camp. He turns away and walks back the way they had come.

"Smart boy." Varric observes, but even he is baffled by what they've seen. "Now, we better pick up the pace. Bartrand isn't known for his patience."

As they creep further away from the dig site, the outcrops of lyrium becoming more infrequent, until its blue-tinged light can no longer beat back the darkness around them. Carver grumbles about not having brought any torches, and they all agree to risk a small light in order to see their path ahead. The top of Anders' staff flares up. Unlike fire, which jumps about on a torch, Anders' staff shines a clear and unwavering light.

"I didn't hear you say Abracadabra." Varric says wryly.

"A verbal component is extremely rare, and then its mostly ritualistic." Anders glances up at the beacon on the top of his staff and the light's brilliance shrinks. Satisfied with the glow's radius – enough to see by but, hopefully, not enough to announce their presence – Anders walks a little faster.

"A mage needs to think of his happy place." Anders says.

"Mincemeat pie." Garrett smiles dreamily.

Varric snorts. "You're kidding."

"Just think of a wonderful thought."

After a moment of no further explanation, Varric sighs. "Alright Blondie, you've forced my curiosity: what's your happy place?"

"I have none."

"Well that took a dark turn."

The scratching of boot soles and the clack of staves on stone punctures the oppressive silence that follows. Their caution makes exploration a slow process but they do not encounter any darkspawn and that seems a fair trade.

What feels like hours later, the natural rock recedes and their footsteps take on a different tone; whatever is under their feet feels like paved flooring. Garret lights his staff and all eyes are moving up and down the walls of the corridor they've entered.

"Finally, something familiar." Garrett exhales, tilting back his head and gazing up the walls. Ancient cobwebs stretch across the corridor, thick as porridge. As the men stride through, their movements send ripples across the webs. Cascades of dust and mites are delineated in the staff's light as it swirls overhead.

Carver's nose itches as he breathes the musty air. "I'm surprised these tunnels don't simply collapse." He complains, cupping a hand over his nose and mouth.

Varric is cocky. "Dwarves made them."

"Then I'm surprised they're not smaller." Carver counters, eliciting a backwards glance from the dwarf. They share a grin.

The corridor hurtles forward beyond their ability to see, yet as they push on the air around them beings to lighten and warm. There is light ahead, it seems, but around a corner. As they approach it, the air continues to heat up. Varric uncomfortably rolls his shoulders inside his heavy leather coat. Anders looks as uncomfortable in his ridiculous feather pauldrons.

Carver fights a shiver instead, trying to squint through the poor light and the ache in his head. They turn the corner. At once a vortex of wind currents pounces upon them, tugging their clothes and pushing against them like small, invisible hands. Ahead of them the hallway connects to a large chamber filled with warm tones of red light. A sense of unease settles over Carver's bare arms as another gust blows against them, coming from the chamber. It carries an awful reek with it.

"What died?" Anders groans, cupping his nose.

"Do you hear something?" Garrett whispers.

Carver doesn't like that he whispers.

"Sounds like bat wings." Varric offers.

They reach the end of the corridor and the stench intensifies. It smells of rancid meat and shit. A low and threatening growl stops them at the end of the hall. The men glance at one another uncertainly and the light of the staves go out. Slowly Carver reaches his hand behind him and encloses his fingers around the hilt of his sword. It gives a small measure of comfort. He blinks rapidly, adjusting his eyes to the dim chamber.

A cacophony of chittering and low growls echoes around them.

"Do bats growl?" Anders jokes.

A large black shadow swoops toward them.

"Anders!" Garrett cries in alarm.

Garrett throws himself forward, tackling Anders around the waist. Both mages disappear, eclipsed by a massive bulk of scales as a serpentine creature smashes into the ground from above.

Tremors of its impact race up Carver's legs. Maker's breath, he stares.

They've walked straight into a dragon's nest.