THE OTHER BROTHER

The Primordial Thaig

Part II

9:31 Dragon

"Bartrand!"

The echo of the door to the ancient chamber sealing shut reverberates in Carver's ears. So too does the despicable dwarf's laughter as he abandons them to rot.

Varric rests his forehead against the rusted metal slab. "I swear I will find that son of a bitch – sorry, mother – and I will kill him!" He slams his fist against the door and drags in a steadying breath.

Garrett places a hand on Varric's shoulder. After a long moment, Varric's fist slides down and falls to his side. He sighs. "Let's hope there's a way out of here."

"May the darkspawn take him." Anders says bitterly, turning away and rubbing his forehead. Trapped beneath the Deep Roads infested with darkspawn, what more could a Grey Warden ask for? A very different kind of Warden than Anders. Muttering curses, Anders stalks away from the door.

Carver can't accept it. His freedom, his dreams, all gone. He stands there, his arms awkward, his face as blank and pale as a sheet. "This is your fault."

Garrett slowly turns to look at him. Carver feels the eyes of the others turn on him as well.

"This is your fault!" Carver says again, this time with anger.

"Now isn't the time." There is an edge of danger in Garrett's eyes.

Carver laughs. It is hoarse and humorless. "Isn't it? I think we have all the time in the world!"

"Junior, Hawke's right – "

Carver lashes his hand at the air, effectively cutting Varric off. "No. He knew what kind of man Bartrand was. We should never have trusted him. Our fearless, careless leader invited this to happen."

Varric glances furtively at Garrett. "No one could have predicted this." Varric looks down at the tops of his shoes. "I know what a rat bastard Bartrand can be, but to maroon me, his only family, in this pit? I never would have believed him capable. Or creative enough."

"I can't believe you're defending him," Carver balls his hands, "both of them!"

"We were all betrayed." Garrett snaps. "Don't make this about you."

The words hit Carver with blunt force. Speechless, he takes a step toward him. Garrett shifts his weight and holds his staff close. Does he feel threatened? Carver wonders, feeling it would be long overdue.

"We don't need to go there." Varric steps between them, hands raised and forehead creased.

"Are both you and Anders so content to look the other way? You don't get to be a leader when you do not own the responsibility of your mistakes!"

"This isn't about me, or us." Garrett responds icily, "Ever since we left Kirkwall you've been acting like an ass. Varric put himself on the chopping block just to give us a chance to make a better life. Anders needn't have done more after giving us the maps but he's here without any profit for himself, just to see us succeed. We owe these men, and our friends in Kirkwall, more than your sanctimonious bullshit."

"I never asked for friends! I never asked for any of this!" Carver clenches his jaw. "I wanted to stay at Ostagar. I wanted to fight. If you hadn't insisted we run back to mother..."

"Then you would be dead." Garrett spits out. "But did I drag you by your hair? You chose to leave the fight. You didn't want to, but you did. You can't keep blaming me for that. Just like you can't keep blaming me for every misfortune you encounter. It's time you face facts and grow up."

Carver glares caustically at Garrett, whose nostrils flare as he keeps his lips tightly drawn. The air seems too thick to breath as Carver pulls in a deep breath through his nose. His heart races on. The both of them tense, waiting for words to turn to blows.

Maybe we should, Carver thinks; maybe it's just time we stop kidding ourselves.

"Maim each other when we get back to Kirkwall. I'm sure Isabela will be thrilled to arrange a duel behind the Hanged Man." Varric admonishes, his hands still raised as if he could possible stop two men from killing each other.

There is no response for several long, uncomfortable moments as each Hawke considers the idea.

"Agreed." Garrett takes a step back, one end of his staff drooping toward the ground.

"Same here." Carver nods, letting the tension seep from fists.

Man to man, brother against brother. It would be a long time coming. Words never could solve their differences, not before this and not now. Carver is certain this is the only way to get the respect he deserves. If only Bethany were alive so she could see it happen. Or father.

Varric is satisfied. "Now that we're all properly motivated, let's get out of here."

They drag themselves up the tiered steps, feeling far more weary than when they had entered the room. Anders is already standing near the altar to greet them. He's been studying the patterns engraved into the stone.

"While you two were hugging it out, I found another door." Anders glances between them.

Garrett steps forward. "Then let's not waste any more time."

Carver tries to hold on to his anger at Garrett, but as they open the door and enter a new corridor, Carver's anger burns like shame when he notices Anders avoids looking at him. Even Varric seems to ignores his presence, only mustering a halfhearted shrug when Carver catches his eye. How am I the bad guy?

As they move through the darkness, Carver runs his fingers along a smooth stone wall to remind himself it's there. Neither Garrett and Anders light their staves. When they come to a fork, they stop to consider their choices. Carver gathers by the way Garrett and Varric are watching Anders in silence that he's doing his weird Grey Warden meditation thing; a sixth sense that lets him know if darkspawn are nearby.

Anders has been vigilant about using that ability ever since their first major run-in with the darkspawn. Maybe he's sorry about not preventing an earlier darkspawn ambush. That fight had put an arrow in Carver's chest, and he's felt like shit ever since then.

Leaning against the wall, Carver watches Anders and lets himself wonder if maybe – big maybe – he could stand to be a little nicer. No sense in burning bridges before he's finished crossing. They will all need each other's help to make it out of the Deep Roads alive.

Satisfied, Anders points to the left. They are stopped by another door.

"One gold says we find their cellar of stinky cheeses." Varric says. "Any takers?"

Anders and Garrett yank the door open. Carver's heart plummets into his stomach but not from the stench of centuries-old cheese. That would have been preferable to what is actually waiting for them inside the room.

"Shut the door!" Carver cries.

Shades swarm so thick their black bodies look like the very abyss.

"Do. Not. Want." Varric backs up.

"What is it?" Garrett calmly asks, still standing behind the door.

The Shades surge forward, screeching with their formless mouths.

"The door!" Carver screams, throwing himself against it. They all push and the door slams shut. Dust and debris rains down from the ceiling. Carver stumbles back, expecting the demons to ram against the door en force. Or simply pass through the wall and overwhelm them. Neither happens, thank the Maker.

"I – I didn't know..." Anders starts.

"It wasn't darkspawn." Garrett says, watching Carver.

Carver shakes his head. "Demons."

"Quickly, the other way." Garrett frowns, breaking into a run. Carver looks over his shoulder several times, each time afraid he will see disembodied eyes burning through the darkness.

The corridor gradually opens up and the walls spreading further apart. The ceiling gives way to a natural cavern. Soft blue light submerges the red stone paving their path. Carver looks up to see massive veins of lyrium branching out from one part of the enormous chamber to joining with a far wall. It makes him think of an oak tree growing sideways.

"Ah, stairs. How I missed you." Varric says dryly.

"At least they're going down." Says Carver, relieved. The stairwell they take down looks like a comfortable place to sit and have a rest. But he doesn't dare mention it. If they should think he were whining like a ponce, he couldn't bare it.

After the stairs vanish in the distance behind them the hall comes to an abrupt end, as if the dwarves who had been chiseling the rock for centuries finally got bored and stopped. Or the demons killed them all. Maybe they could ask the Shades, Carver sardonically thinks to himself.

As if summoned by the very thought, Shades appear from the air – or pass through the Veil, his father or brother would say. They billow up the steps that wing the end of the hall, closing around them.

"Take them out quickly before the Veil tears!" Anders shouts, looking around with spooky blue flame for eyes. Even Anders' voice changes when that spirit inside him comes out.

Anders' warning proves a good motivator; dispatch of the Shades is over with quickly. Carver plunges his sword through the thinned, nearly transparent body of the last one and it collapses into an inky puff and disappears.

They hurry down a second level which could have been a veranda in the making. There are stone ledges half-worked into stairs which they use to jump down to the bottom floor of the cave. Whatever room the dwarves had meant to build here has only one passage leading out. They head toward it, encouraged by a dim light filtering in from the natural corridor.

As they near the tunnel the light becomes brighter and seems to take on life, like a lantern swinging from someone's hand. Garrett holds out his arm in alarm, but everyone has already noticed and stopped in their tracks.

A faint thudding sound intensifies, until all Carver can think of is that the tunnel is collapsing. The sounds is like rocks tumbling together.

"Maker's Breath –!"

The first creature emerges. It swaggers on two huge chunks of rock for legs and slabs of rock for arms, held together by currents of energy shining brighter than any torch. Its head is a skull that looks to have belonged to a dwarf once, fixed atop its body like a morbid hat. Guess the dwarf hadn't been using it. It's empty eye sockets point in their direction and the monster heads toward them. As it leaves the tunnel, more creatures just like it step forth. That loud clamor, like smashing rocks, is their very footsteps as they march into the cave.

Garrett brandishes his staff and it erupts in flames. He stabs it in the direction of the first rock creature and a fireball violently smashes it to pieces. It's light goes out and its former arms and legs fall down and roll away.

Carver doesn't appreciate how easy the magic made it look after he's charged into their line. His sword strikes at stone and leaves only grooves. He hits repeatedly, using the large blade as a shield when he can. The creatures gather around him, swinging their arms like hammers.

He braces himself as two of these abominations crash against his defense. He shoves with the flat of his sword but a castle wall would sooner be moved. Carver can see his arms shaking, threatening to buckle. If that happens, he'll be stomped to death. He digs into himself for strength but his reserves are almost empty.

There is a sound of splitting bone. Carver looks up and see a crossbolt sticking out of the shattered skull of the creature pushing against Carver. The light glowing in its sockets fade. Carver pulls back far enough to flip his sword in the desired direction and stab into the pulsing core of light in its center.

The creature wheels around like a wind-up toy gone haywire. The toes of Carver's boots drag the ground as he holds tight to the hilt, shoving it further in. It's brilliant core goes blindingly white and with a shudder it explodes. The nearest rock creatures go down with it in a shower of debris. Carver flies back, landing on his stomach.

Magic bolts sizzle in the air. Lights are flashing all over, streaks of fire and lightning washing away all color. The strange, intangible cords holding the creatures together begin to flicker and vanish as they each succumb to their attackers. They each take turn collapsing like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

"Bloody flames! What were those things?" Varric gapes at a rock by his feet. He nudges it. The cave looks a lot more like a quarry now.

"I don't think I want to know." Carver sits down on a chunk rock that was formerly a part of a creature's hauberk. He hangs his head over his knees. In, out. He breathes. In, out. But his insides are too topsy turvy to be calmed. A moment later, Carver retches into the dirt.

"Are you alright?" Garrett asks uncertainly.

"Fine." Carver looks at the ground between his feet and spits. His mouth tastes like bile and the salty meat he ate two days ago.

"I soiled my robe when I saw those things." Anders says, trying to lighten the mood.

Varric laughs but it rings hollow against the stones.

Everyone knows they must move forward, into the passage where those rock monsters came from, know they could be marching into a death trap.

"We need rest." Garrett decides. "I'll take first watch. Get sleep if you can; use your rations sparingly. It will take time to make it make to the surface."

Carver glances up at his brother with eyes rimmed red. "If you're saying this because of me, I said I'm fine. We can't afford to stay in one place. We don't know anything about those rock monsters or if they'll be more but the demons at least know you're here; they'll return for you and Anders."

"If we push ourselves too hard, we won't make it out of here. We're hardly standing as it is."

Carver hides his relief behind a frown. "You'll wake me if there's trouble."

"I think you mean when."