They heard the screams before they had even reached their camp.
That and a high-pitched keening sound.
Merrill, clutching her spear tight, ran, feeling light-headed as the world spun out of control. The group was running, fear etched in every face. Even Garrett, usually so calm, looked terrified. And around them...Merrill knew Bethany and Anders could feel it...yet despite that, she felt utterly alone while feeling the Veil ripping open. Already thin, it was now splitting like a bad seam, making the churning energies of the Fade spill out when they'd already been churning underneath the surface of the thinning Veil.
Merrill could almost see the energies, making her wonder if the non-mages felt it too, the energy... It's like a sea at storm...oh, Isabela would have loved hearing that! Of course, the thought of the sharks coming out of that sea put a dampner on that thought. She could sense them, just at the edge of her mind...they were slipping into the real world far too easily, as if they'd done it before...and they were hungry.
Hunger demons? No...or...almost...?
Fenris was the first around the last corner, the elf cursing as he slammed into a skeletal figure, making it stagger before throwing itself at him with unnatural speed. Growling, Fenris smashed its face in with the pommel of his sword before slashing the blade sideways, separating its head from its shoulders.
Then, the group was standing there, frozen in horror at the sight before them.
To the right, the city spread out before them. The poorly lit houses were covered with flickering shadows as the darkness seemed to ripple and shift before them. After a moment of staring, Merrill realised it was the sight of hundreds of shapes moving.
Slow, but moving faster and faster, the keening cry was rising from them like a choir's, small glowing runes on their skin like flickering candles as the dry skin rippled with the movement over their withered bones.
Ours, ours, ours...
Merrill shook her head, the dry whisper in her head tickling something in the back of her skull, making her fingers itch as the gasps of the spirits echoed against the walls of her soul, wanting to feed on its energies. On my greed...on our greed. Merrill saw the golden wall to her left flicker, and swallowed. Mythal, protect us...
"Get away! This is my gold!" Just before them, at the centre of the plaza where the expedition had made camp, Bartrand was standing atop the massive pile of wealth they'd gathered up, a large chalice in one hand that he swung it at the face of a limping undead, cracking its skull and sending it tumbling back down the golden slope. "No one will take it from me!"
Ours, ours, ours!
To the right, the myriad of undead began to run faster, their keening cry rising higher as most began to run straight for Bartrand.
Most, but not all.
A few of the expedition lay dead among the wagons on the plaza, the remaining guards among them, but the majority were over by the gate. Closed for safety against the darkspawn, it now became a death-trap as the press of bodies failed to open the unresponsive gate, their feet kicking up the white dust of the dwarves that had once died there as the possessed bodies rising from the wall of gold charged at them, hacking and slashing at the rear of the press of panicked people. Again, bodies would cover the gate in droves, to rot, decay and turn to dust.
A scream and Merrill saw a dwarf shove the only other female elf in the expedition back away from the press of bodies and towards the demons. The woman screamed, stumbled on a rock and fell onto her back.
A moment later a rusted pickaxe went through her skull with a dull crunch.
The dwarf only bought himself a second of life though. The undead wrenched its pickaxe free from the elf with surprising speed, the tool a blur as it sliced open the dwarf's back. He screamed...and it gripped him by the hair and dragged him down atop the dead elf, pickaxe coming down again and again as it turned his body and hers to a mess of hacked flesh and broken bones.
We have to help them! Merrill took a step towards the panicked crowd being hacked down...and Garrett grabbed her arm, dragging her away, his shout shaking with terror. "We have to leave! Go! Go! This way!"
Merrill, her limbs turning to water at the truth of Garrett's words, and what they meant, found herself stumbling to keep up as the small group ran across the plaza. This...we can't do this...we have to...we have to...
Ours! OURS!
By the gate, a human fell to his knees, hands over his head as he futilely screamed for mercy.
One of the undead pushed its bony hands into his mouth, gripping each row of teeth with a keening cry...and in a horrifying display of strength, ripped the man's jaw off in a shower of blood.
As they ran past Bartrand, Varric called out, his voice seemingly distant. "Brother! Don't be a fool! Come on!"
Bartrand's eyes, glowing with anger at the cry, glared at Varric before he spun, the chalice in his hands caving in the skull of an undead trying to reach him with a broken shovel. "No! This is my gold! We can't let them have it! Fight! Fight and get my gold!"
Ahead, Fenris, just a step ahead of Garrett, spun his sword over his head, blade a silvery blur as it cut through a pickaxe and its wielder both. The next undead crashed into the elf though, a thin blade of bone entering and leaving the silver-haired man twice in quick succession before with a grunt he shouldered it aside and smashed its skull into dust with a quick cut. His voice was a pained gasp. "They're fast...!"
Garrett grunted in reply, his hand suddenly leaving Merrill, nearly making her fall as his shield shot up, a pickaxe breaking off against the rim, the head flying over the man's shoulder and nearly into Merrill's face as Garrett's falchion replied with a slash that left the creature an arm shorter. Still, it crashed into him, shrieking into his face as a hand clawed at his neck, tearing at the chainmail before Maric slammed into it and pushed it to the ground, claws raking its eyes out as the hound leapt over it and onwards.
Ours! Ours!
Now behind them, Bartrand was calling out, his voice a hoarse roar. "Get back here, you cowards!" A cry of pain, followed by a hoarse curse. "Protect the gold!"
"It's the gold or your life!" Was Varric's reply, a cry of desperation. "Brother, please!"
OURS! OURS!
By the gate, the demons were moving faster, their arms a blur as they hacked and slashed, the blood rising like a mist from the trapped mob pressed against the gate, their screams of panic lost in the cries of agony as those at the edge were ripped apart.
And from the city, the demons were leaping into the light, bounding forward, fast as Halla as their keening cries rose into a fever pitch.
OURS!
Then the group crashed through a doorway of gold and black stone. Stumbling, Merrill and the others spun around. The last one to enter was Anders, the mage growling as he dropped onto his knees, hands glowing as he struggled to pull out a pickaxe stuck in his shoulder. Bethany, coughing and blood flowing freely from a cut along her leg, crouched down to help him, her hands glowing too as they struggled to heal the man while pulling the weapon out of bone and flesh. A moment later Bodahn and Sandal were with her, trying to help the mage to his feet.
Varric ran up to the doorway...and then stopped short even before Garrett placed a heavy hand on his shoulder. Varric's face was showing...Merrill had expected horror, anguish...but what she saw was frustration and anger. "Dammit, brother! For once, listen to me!" Bianca was suddenly in his hands, and further off a demon leaping at Bartrand fell, its head twitching hard to the side as Varric's shot ripped through its skull. "RUN!"
Bartrand...hesitated.
Surely he must come...? Merrill stared at the two brothers. One, eyes darting between his brother and the gold at his feet...the other, glaring back, as if thinking there was even a chance Bartrand would make any other choice but to run for him.
Then Bartrand shook his head, growling as he spun, two hands gripping the chalice in his hands and swinging it about, driving the blur that was a demon back. "Never! I've come too far! I won't have it!" What...but...he'll...how can he think like that!?
"Brother..." Varric's voice was a dull mutter as his shoulders slowly slumped, Bianca limply falling from his hands. "...you bloody..." Shaking his head, the dwarf turned his gaze away as ahead, a flood of demons surged over the mound of gold, towards the greedy dwarf that was like a beacon to their kind...and swarmed over him, his cry of agony mercifully short.
Quietly, Garrett shut the door to whatever chamber they'd entered, making darkness and silence descend upon the small group.
Around Merrill, all there was was darkness...and Varric's voice, a bitter whisper. "Fool..."
Only then did the man start crying.
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Anders was frightened. It was a strange feeling after so much time feeling nothing but rage and grief. The city of these ancient dwarves was different from anything he'd seen before, but it was still the Deep Roads, and the longer he stayed there, the more he was assailed by memories.
I don't want to die here.
Not again.
The Veil had mended only slightly since the slaughter of the expeditionary force, and Anders could hear the shift within the Fade, the mutter of demons, still hungry for the greed of those they'd so brutally massacred. It made Justice uneasy, the spirit slithering within his broken body like a snake of ice, wanting to lash out, to purge the demonic filth. No, Justice, we can't. We would die needlessly.
The answer was a low growl within, sending jolts of familiar agony through the cracks in his flesh as the trapped spirit struggled to contain himself...Anders hated that pain, it was like he was about to split about, his flesh once more cracking.
Cracking...cracking flesh, breaking bone, flesh splitting... Anders shuddered at the memory even as Justice went quiet, the spirit not quite capable of understanding such pain, disquieted by his host's horror. Darkspawn, hundreds of them...stone all around me...cold...so cold...ice...breathing ice...no escape...only pain...felt the blow coming, felt myself...shatter...
Anders closed his hands into fists. Don't shake, don't shake, don't shake...
Pieces of me, pieces falling down, raining to the ground, my soul catapulted into the void, a plaything for Darkspawn shadows in the depths of the Fade, the ones I've slain wreaking vengeance...
Justice became perfectly still, a warmth escaping him as he tried to comfort his host, despite such ideas being foreign to the spirit.
Thank you, friend. Anders managed the palest of smiles, knowing his broken features would turn anything more into a grisly grimace.
"Anders?" Shaking his head, the mage realised the annoyance in Garrett's tone meant he hadn't heard the man the first time. Turning, Anders regarded Garrett, somewhat reassured at what he saw. The man was clearly afraid, though only the eyes revealed it. Other than that he looked steady, determined, level-headed. A leader like Lynn...but at least this one still has a soul. Anders wasn't sure the man would be leader enough to get them out of the current mess though. Not that I have much choice in the matter...story of my life. "You're a Warden, do you know a way out?"
Ah, yes, I being a Wardes, meaning I'm a super hero with the answer to anything when needed? Anders suppressed the ironic answer all too readily. I miss my funny side, when life was less...serious...or rather, when I could fool myself it was. Instead, Anders shook his head. "I've never been in this area, and I have no maps to give but the one already given." A small light in Garrett's eyes went out. "However..." Anders looked about, noting the small chamber they were standing in, a large slab of stone over what had to be a tomb – obviously the building was a mausoleum – was the only thing in the room...and the broken wall at the far end, going into grey caves beyond. "...I bet our only chance is that way...unless you wish to try opening the door?"
It was a rhetorical question, yet Garrett still shook his head, glancing back at the door with worry in his eyes. Yet so far no attempts had been made by the beasts on the other side to breach it...they seemed to be in the clear for now, and Anders noted how the man's gaze moved to the rest of the group, looking concerned.
Anders couldn't blame him, the group had taken a beating despite their attempts to avoid a confrontation, and while magic had healed the injuries, no rejuvenating spell could completely heal the mental and physical exhaustion hanging over the survivors. Only rest could do that, something Anders doubted Garrett would or could allow at the moment.
Fenris was glaring at the closed gate as he stood to the side of it, the tip of his sword resting on the ground, a frozen sentinel, ready to suddenly burst into action to slay anything trying to enter, welcoming the chance. Maybe his pride got sunk by being stabbed by a mere skeleton? Anders couldn't bring himself to smirk at the thought, he if anyone had known how powerful those demons had become. They had closed in on Bartrand for a reason, the man's greed like a shining light in the darkness, a worthy meal for creatures that too long had lingered in broken bodies, trapped as their source of nourishment had gone away. Why did they enter those bodies though? It didn't seem natural, almost as if they'd been...summoned...
Anders shot Merrill a suspicious look, despite knowing she had nothing to do with the breaking of the Veil. The elf didn't notice his gaze, her face even paler than usual, eyes brimming with un-shed tears as she stared at the door. The shock of what had happened surely having receded from her and leaving her a mental wreck...Anders had seen it before, even brutes used to the odd skirmish could be brought to a halt when faced by slaughter on a greater scale. I could try rejuvenating...no, it would be a waste of mana, she needs rest, like all the rest.
The thought made him frown in worry, glancing over at Bethany. The woman was huddled up in a corner, hugging her knees where she sat, blankly staring in front of her, a sheen of sweat making her unnaturally white skin shine like bleached bone. Noticing his and Garrett's gazes, she offered a pale smile, then looked away and coughed, a forlorn look in her eyes. The Deep Roads hadn't agreed with the woman, seemingly draining her even before the darkspawn attack or that of the demons...and she looked as tired as anyone could be before they'd fall unconscious. Maric was – uncharacteristically, given he was essentially Garrett's shadow – standing next to the woman, head almost but not quite on her knee, a low whimpering sound escaping the dog as it tried to comfort his master's sister.
Bodahn and Sandal were also sitting down, the later with his head on the shoulder of the right, looking terrified for the older man that was reassuringly stroking his son's hand. Neither had gotten injured during the run for safety, which was a small miracle, but the strain and stress had gotten to the older dwarf, giving him a heart attack just as they'd tumbled into temporary safety. Anders had done what he could, so Bodahn wouldn't die, but neither would he be running any time soon, especially given how he'd have no time to get the proper rest he needed.
And then, there was Varric.
The dwarf had his back to Anders and Garrett. Sitting on the excessive coffin of stone, his feet dangling off the edge, he was looking straight ahead, at the door, or perhaps beyond, at his brother. Or what's left of him, at least. The dwarf was perfectly still, his weeping from when they'd closed the door having ceased within moments after it had begun...and Anders would have almost preferred it, Varric's current stillness was...unsettling.
Anders and Garrett exchanged a worried look, then the later spoke up, breaking the stillness of the room. "You okay, Varric?"
As one, everyone in the chamber looked up at the dwarf. Whatever they saw from their angle...it was puzzling. Anders saw Fenris arch an eyebrow, Merrill frowning in worry and Bethany looking confused.
Varric didn't answer, his shoulders rising as he took a deep breath
Silence followed.
Then Varric exhaled, a long and tired sound in the dark chamber.
"Yeah..." The word was low and bitterly spoken, a far cry from the dwarf's usual demeanour.
Garrett was frowning now, perhaps disapproving of the answer, yet patiently waiting for more.
"Yeah, I am..." Varric turned his head, glancing at Bethany, then Garrett, a look of regret crossing his features before he looked back to the sealed door. "...and that's what saddens me." A grunt, and the dwarf dropped off the casket and onto the floor, still not looking away from the door. "Not all families are like yours, Garrett...a shame, huh?"
Merrill looked ready to answer, then noticed Bethany's slight shake of her head, and closed her mouth.
Not meeting anyone's gaze, his eyes concealed under a lowered brow and frown, Varric marched around the casket, past Anders and Garrett, and towards the hole in the far side of the chamber. His voice was dull, brokering no argument. "Let's go."
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for hounding me.