10. Dwarves in the Deep Roads
Garott Brosca could not stop laughing.
The topsiders who were now his traveling companions obviously thought he was crazy, and maybe he was. But sod it, he'd won. He'd beat the warriors in their own arena. He'd outmaneuvered the nobles by escaping justice for his crimes (though that was mostly the Warden-Commander's doing). And he'd killed that slimy son-of-a-bitch Beraht.
And now, instead of living out the rest of his days as some casteless thug, or some surface dwarf lost to the Stone, he was becoming a Stone-damned Grey Warden. One of the highest honors a dwarf could earn, second only to sodding Paragonhood.
Oh, by the Stone. He should try to become a Paragon next. The very idea sent him into paroxysms of laughter.
As his latest bout died down, one of the Wardens—a narrow-faced human named Emmit—cast him a curious look. "This isn't usual for you, is it? If so, it seems an unusual tactic for battling darkspawn."
"What can I say, topsider? It's been a damn good week." He grinned and bit back a chortle. "Anyone else kick an oppressive system in the balls recently? No, just me?" His laughter slipped out, and there he went again.
Rica was cared for. Leske was out from under Beraht's thumb. Even that drunken whore of a mother of his had sobered up enough to goggle at his newfound status shift.
Best sodding week ever.
The Commander and another Warden returned from scouting a side tunnel, and Duncan only paused to give Garott the briefest of exasperated looks (and that didn't help the dwarf's state at all). "I believe we've found a way around the cave-in. This way."
The small group of Wardens started down the tunnel, leaving the grand, painstakingly constructed Deep Road for the rough-hewn labyrinthine corridors around it. A perfect metaphor for the whole of dwarven civilization, really. All pompous-ass grandeur, torn up and overtaken by dust.
Dust. Dusters. Oh boy, and there he lost it again.
"I'm beginning to worry about the mental stability of the new recruit, sir," one of the Wardens, Ira, told Duncan flatly.
"Fair bit more entertaining than that Dalish elf, though, isn't he?" said Emmit.
"Hmm," Duncan grunted noncommittally, the sly dog.
Deep breaths, deep breaths. "You think I'm crazy, huh? Obviously, you ain't met many dwarves." Garott's chuckles finally settled down into a crooked grin. "I think it's all the lava in Orzammar. Fries the brains."
"If that's the excuse you're going for," said the archer, Rehg.
Then, as one, all four Wardens tensed. Garott had been with them in the Deep Roads for a couple days now, so he knew what that meant. The smirk fell off his face as he unhooked his handaxe and dagger from his belt. Instinctively, he slid into the shadow cast by a crevice in the tunnel wall, his natural dusty coloring making him blend in with it, as it always did.
A moment later, a clump of wandering darkspawn rounded the corner of the tunnel ahead. They growled and charged, and the Wardens met them with gusto, arrows flying and swords banging.
Garott, for his part, was unnoticed, so he used it to his advantage, slipping up behind one that was itself trying to sneak up behind Ira. A handaxe to the hamstring disabused it of that tactic, and when the darkspawn whirled on Garott, it got a dagger up the nose for it.
He pulled his weapons out of the darkspawn corpse and whirled away, just in time for a massive hurlock to come barreling into him with a maul. Garott received only a glancing blow from the hammer, but even that hurt a great deal. His left side immediately started to throb where it had been hit, and his dagger dropped.
Growling low, Garott stooped to the ground and scooped up some dirt, still dodging the swooping maul. He then introduced that dirt intimately to the darkspawn's eyes, making the hurlock hiss and hesitate for just a moment. It was all Garott needed to slam his handaxe into a very unsportsmanlike part of the hurlock's anatomy (though who could say whether the blighters even used it?) and then scooped up his dagger and stab it under the thing's armor and into its heart.
The other Wardens were just finishing off the rest of the darkspawn band. They were efficient; Garott had to give them that. Then again, so was he.
"Let us move on," Duncan said, stowing his blades. "There could very well be more coming."
"Yeah, no doubt drawn by the sound of this one losing his mind." Rehg jerked a thumb toward the dwarf. Garott smirked and flipped his dagger before sheathing it.
The Wardens turned to make a swift exit from the scene of the skirmish, but Garott spotted some things on the field that got those wheels in his head turning. Among the darkspawn corpses were a bow, daggers, various bits of metal that had once been armor…
He let the Wardens get ahead of him, knowing he'd catch up in a moment. Instead, he deftly scooped up anything sharp or jagged and started tying them together, interlocking the scraps where he could.
"What are you doing?" one of the Wardens asked from up ahead. They'd stopped to watch him.
Garott smirked. "Giving any darkspawn that follow us a little present." Finished, he tossed the contraption on the ground in a narrow part of the corridor, kicking dust over it to conceal its presence from the unwary enemy. The claw trap was weak and probably wouldn't last beyond the first bite, but that was still one darkspawn leg torn open. "Think I should wrap it?"
Emmit snorted. "Looks good to me as it is."
Garott stepped up to join the Wardens, and they continued to delve into the Deep Roads together.
They were back on the main highway before they encountered anything else. As they were heading down a long hall, they heard something scuffling around from the tunnel up ahead. The Wardens' lack of reaction meant it wasn't a darkspawn, but Garott could hear the distinct creaking of armor. Rehg raised his bow, and Garott instinctually slipped into the nearest shadow. Whatever it was seemed to be getting closer, though at least it sounded like it was alone.
It took a minute, but soon enough a dwarf-sized figure in mismatched armor walked bold as you please out onto the Deep Road. At first Garott thought that it might be a genlock after all, but a look at the fair skin under its horned helm made Garott realize that the dwarf-sized form was actually a dwarf. Go figure.
The newcomer looked around for a moment, then spotted the Wardens and said, "There you are." Like she'd found a lost nug, not a pack of armed Grey Wardens two days into the Deep Roads.
The Wardens startled, but lowered their weapons. Duncan, as ever, took the initiative. "You were looking for us? Do you bear a message of some kind?"
"You might say that." The dwarf stepped toward them, taking off her horned helm as she did so, revealing a cascade of red hair and eyes as molten and angry as magma.
Garott felt his jaw drop, because he recognized this woman. What Orzammar citizen wouldn't? Sure, he'd never seen her in person, but all the stone-cuts dedicated to her apparently bore her likeness close enough.
"Lady Aeducan!" The boss apparently recognized her as well. Duncan hurried forward to inspect the noble. "Are you all right? What are you doing alone this far into the Deep Roads? Were you not leading your own forces elsewhere?"
"I'd rather not speak of it." The princess stalked forward, joining the rest of the Wardens. "Suffice to say that I am coming with you to the surface, if you'll have me."
Garott stayed in his shadow, studying her. The princess was not dressed in her usual Aeducan armor, nor was that any fancy noble's waraxe on her back. No, her armor was a hodgepodge of stained and torn items: a leather chestplate, steel boots, chain gloves… and the waraxe on her back was black and notched. Garott had seen enough darkspawn weapons in the last few days to know one when he saw one.
The warrior princess of Orzammar was alone in the Deep Roads and dressed like a scavenger, and it wasn't hard for Garott to figure out what that meant.
Laughter roared out of him, startling the Wardens. The princess whipped out her waraxe and spun on him, obviously not previously realizing he was there.
"Not this again," Ira groaned.
Garott mastered himself and stepped out of the shadows, just so that the king's daughter could see his mocking bow. "Let me be the first, princess, to welcome you to the ranks of the casteless. Would you like your brand now, or later?"
Her eyes flickered to the tattoo on his own cheek, and he could just imagine what was going through her mind. Her eyes flashed and she straightened. "And just who are you?" She seemed to be living up to the reputation of the infamous spitfire of House Aeducan. Garott wondered what she had done to get kicked out of it.
"You don't need to know that."
"Actually, Garott, a bit of civility wouldn't go amiss," Duncan cut in thoughtfully, eyeing the princess with an impressed expression. "Especially if we're traveling together. If I might ask, Lady Aeducan-"
The princess flinched and interrupted, "Don't call me that. It… is as this brand says. I am no longer a lady, nor an Aeducan."
Duncan's face saddened, though Garott rolled his eyes. He was 'this brand' still, apparently. "Then what might we call you?" Duncan asked.
"Marnan. My name is Marnan."
"Marnan, then. What do you intend to do once you've reached the surface, Marnan?"
"I…" Marnan frowned, then turned to set herself squarely before Duncan. "I was thinking about what you said at my feast. It seems as though I no longer have any commitments in Orzammar to hold me back. As such, I would like to join the Grey Wardens. If you'll have me."
The other Wardens started whispering, but Duncan just smiled. "Of course we will. It will be good to have one with such experience among us."
She nodded, as if it was her due. Garott couldn't help but note the wary glance she cast over at him, and he just scowled in response.
So they were taking some uppity noble bitch back to Ostagar with them, huh? Suddenly Garott didn't feel much like laughing anymore.