Just got up and saw this update.
Well written as usual, I likle the idea of Zevran serving as some kind of human wine-barrell.
Dragon Age: The Hunt (Fanfiction) (Completed - Now with Art!)
Débuté par
Shadow of Light Dragon
, janv. 09 2010 03:21
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#27
Posté 16 janvier 2010 - 06:08
tevikolady
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whew, finally got teh chance to sit down long enough to finish reading the new update. Nicely done, can't wait for more
#28
Posté 16 janvier 2010 - 06:11
Originsmaster
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- 126 messages
This can be a mod nice story dev
#29
Posté 16 janvier 2010 - 08:12
TanithAeyrs
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- 1 292 messages
Enjoyed the new chapter, very good as usual. Keep writing.
#30
Posté 17 janvier 2010 - 01:16
Shadow of Light Dragon
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In deference to reader sensibilities and forum rules, this chapter has a warning of 'very mildly risque'.
Part 6 - Companions
Zevran woke in a clean bed with daylight streaming through a west-facing window. He lay still for a moment, listening for any tell-tale sounds that he might have company before sitting up and looking around. His blades lay sheathed nearby in easy reach, his leathers and clothes were clean and hung across the back of a chair. On a dresser near the bed were bandages and a couple of poultices. The room was a simple one, log walls, wooden furniture, none of it painted, all lovingly carved. Feeling a stiffness on the side of his neck he reached up and was surprised to feel dressings padded there. More of them were wrapped around his right thigh, bulking on the inside over a major artery. What—or who—had he been doing to suffer a wound there?
He frowned to himself, trying to piece together the last things he remembered. Creeping between trees in the dark. Dead hands reaching up unexpectedly from the undergrowth at his very feet. A brief struggle. A candlelit room. Wine. A pretty woman with pale eyes and black hair kissing his neck. Then…He sat very still and concentrated, using all his training to dredge up the details. He remembered Asleena facing off against the woman. He remembered blood, pain, teeth tearing into his leg when he’d made his attack, and shouting at Asleena to finish the job when he’d realised he was too weakened to do it himself.
Zevran rubbed a hand over his face and sank back into the pillows with a deep sigh. That was going to be tricky. Urgency had driven her to make that kill, but she was not going to be happy about it even if she was convinced it was the best option available.
Movement outside caught his eye and he looked out the window. Asleena, wearing full dragonscale armour, had walked into view with a middle-aged man who had the build of a miner or stonemason. Zevran watched their faces and body language as they stopped and spoke. The man was haggard and unsmiling, his movements tense, his manner like one who felt he owed a debt to someone he didn’t much like. Asleena’s expression was predictably closed and calm, as it always was when she was distressed or unhappy. She had not learned to maintain an effective façade, probably thinking that becoming withdrawn and stone-faced hid her feelings when it really did the opposite for those who knew her.
The discussion ended and the two separated, Asleena heading for Zevran’s location. He sat up against the bed-head, letting the sheet fall to his waist, and waited for her to arrive.
“You’re awake,” she noted, and to his chagrin did not run her green eyes over his physique. She did look relieved to just see him, however. “How do you feel?”
“Like a woman had her way with me and I didn’t enjoy it very much,” he riposted dryly. “How long was I out?”
“All night and until noon today.” She glanced out the window. “If you’re fit to travel, we should get moving as soon as possible.”
He got up immediately and went for his clothes. “Trouble?”
“We’re in no danger. At least, I don’t believe so. The villagers, the few who survived, don’t remember much…” She shrugged an armoured shoulder. “They’re…grateful, I suppose… but the demon killed most of them, or made them kill each other, and they’re only just now coming to terms with the deaths of people they’ve known all their lives.” She watched him as he pulled his shirt on, then said, “And they don’t know how to take it that I killed some of them, too.”
“You had to barge through a few to get to the demon, I presume.”
“Fewer than you’d think. Only four. I tried to knock them out so I wouldn’t be forced to hurt or kill them, but…the two girls in the woods? I hit the youngest one too hard. She died this morning.”
Zevran worked the buckles of his leather armour slowly, sorting through possible responses. “It was an accident, yes?”
“A stupid one,” she agreed in a harder voice, frowning. “I seem to be developing a trend of acting hastily when someone I care about is in trouble. She was a little girl, Zevran! Tell me I couldn’t have thought of a better way to incapacitate her than slamming my fist against her skull! And for what? To save—“ she stopped abruptly and clamped her mouth shut, eyes flicking to him.
“—to save Zevran Arainai, cold-blooded Antivan assassin?” he finished for her, seating himself in the now-empty chair.
“That’s not what I…” she began in an apologetic voice, then caught his raised brow and flushed. “Fine…maybe it is. But don’t think I’m suggesting it’s your fault. I just keep remembering the demon’s offer—“
“What offer?”
“You don’t remember? No, you were a bit out of it.” Asleena crossed her arms and leaned back beside the door. “She—it said it could take you, just you, and spare all the others.” Her face became disconcertingly unreadable. “One life, a killer’s life, for the lives of the village.” There was a breath of silence after that statement, then she added, “That’s how the demon put it, anyway. I’d never have agreed to it.”
“A fact for which I am very grateful,” Zevran said smoothly, rising to his feet. “Not that being chained from a roof and having my neck nuzzled for weeks on end isn’t an appealing prospect, but I prefer to be conscious for that sort of thing.” She answered this with a half-hearted smile. He sighed inwardly and picked up his blades, strapping them across his back. “Did you learn anything about Alistair?”
“Not from the villagers, but the demon spoke of him I think. It mentioned a ‘tainted one’ that had come past before we did, and that he was going to look for magi to perform an exorcism. He must have kept going north.”
Zevran cocked his head. “One of the Ostwick guards mentioned a Circle Tower at Starkhaven. Maybe he headed there.”
“Which way is that from here?”
“Northwest, and a fair distance cross-country. We’d do well to continue to the city of Markham for supplies. That will be the fastest road through the Vimmark Mountains, at any rate.”
“Well there’s no point going back to Ostwick. They’ll find out what’s happened here sooner or later. Starkhaven…” she frowned thoughtfully, losing her troubled demeanour. “I thought it sounded familiar before. I know I’ve read it somewhere, in a history book probably. Didn’t an archdemon get killed there?”
Zevran shrugged. “I cannot claim to be an expert on the Blights, my dear.” He picked up his pack. “If you wanted to get going, I am ready. Ah…Ferrix…?”
“Outside,” she said. “I left him here while I went to try and find out where the trouble had started. The miners dug into a sealed room—and I mean completely sealed, solid stone all around. There was a hideous statue there with carvings and such. I couldn’t read any of it, but the woman who got possessed was a scholar of sorts according to one of the villagers. When she went to examine it she must have triggered something.” She glanced up to where Starfang’s hilt protruded over her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if it really mattered anymore, but I smashed the statue.”
“You should have waited for me. What if something had happened?”
She looked amused and turned for the door. “Don’t you get tired of watching my back?”
He smirked, pleased he’d gotten her to smile, and followed behind with a slight limp. “Not in the least. I could watch it all day.”
Ferrix greeted them outside under a cloudy sky. Zevran crouched to give the mabari a good backrub, feeling oddly touched that a dog of all things appeared so happy to see him. Being an assassin, there were few people who were ever happy to see Zevran—if they saw him at all, of course. The warhound had been properly washed, he realised, and a fresh coating of kaddis decorated his brown fur.
“I couldn’t help noticing when I awoke that I was remarkably clean,” Zevran said to Asleena, who had been glancing from house to house in a detached sort of way. “Someone else bathed me, yes? You wouldn’t be so heartless as to scrub my back and sponge my chest while I was unconscious, surely.”
“A question for the ages, Zevran.”
“No, seriously…” But she was striding away. “Did she?” he asked Ferrix, who barked enthusiastically before galloping off. “Come on! Was that a yes or a no?”
They walked out of the silent village, and not one person came to see them off. Despite Asleena’s erect posture and unhurried pace, Zevran could see the tension in her even through the armour she wore. She wanted to be out of here, away from the condemnation she sensed behind every window. It was hard to fathom how he, an assassin, could feel no guilt about his profession as a hired killer, but she, who tried to save lives, seemed to suffer so much when she failed to protect just one from an untimely fate. He wondered if anyone in this cursed place had given her any gratitude, then felt an unexpected stab of shame at the hypocrisy. Had he really expressed any gratitude? He’d made some glib remark that was entirely in keeping with his character and not at all what she needed to hear right now.
“Asleena,” he said suddenly, on impulse. “Thank you.”
“For bathing you?”
For once, he let the opening pass and kept his voice serious. “No. For coming after me. For saving me.”
She looked over at him, as though to see if he was going to follow up with a joke. When he did not, some of the defensiveness went out of her stance. “You’d do the same for me, right?”
“In the blink of an eye.”
**
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you proud of being an assassin?”
“I’m proud of being a very good assassin. Does that work?”
“Yes, actually. And why crows? Why’d your guild choose to name themselves after crows?”
“Sten asked me that once.”
“Did you give him an answer that satisfied him?”
“As he would say: No.”
“Is it because they’re black? Assassins prefer black, right?”
“How prosaic, my dear. Black is fashionable, I’ll grant, but rarely practical. A good assassin camouflages himself to his surrounds. Out here, for example, dark greens, browns and greys.”
Asleena picked up a piece of wood and fed it into the campfire. It spat and sent up a shower of sparks that whirled away towards the stars. She settled down on her folded blanket again, stretching her toes towards the heat and watching the elf on the other side of the flames with a speculative gaze as he ran a whetstone down the edge of a blade. Ferrix was off to one side, lying on his back with all four paws in the air. Occasionally one of them would twitch.
They’d travelled for a week since leaving the village. Progress had been slow, in part due to most of it being uphill, and in part due to Zevran’s injured leg. It caused him little discomfit now, and he’d removed the bandages from it and his neck that very night. They would reach Markham City the next day and had set up camp off the road. A comfortable routine had been established where they took turns keeping watch or sleeping, cooking, cleaning and so on. It had become quite companionable.
“Well, crows sound awful so it can’t be anything to do with singing talent. Oh, wait!” She leaned forward, eyes shining as she grinned. “Animals have collective names, and the one for crows is ‘murder’. ‘A murder of crows’! Is that it?”
He grinned at her. “I always preferred ‘a scourge of mosquitoes’, myself.”
“You’re not going to tell me even if I do guess it, are you?”
“No,” he said again, imitating Sten’s deep voice so well that she laughed.
“All right, keep your little secrets.” She stretched a little, looked around and gave him a rueful smile. “All this time on the road and I still expect to see one of the others around the fire. I miss…all of them. Even Bodahn and Sandal.”
“Enchantment?”
Her good humour returned instantly. “Enchantment!” They shared a chuckle, then she let out a long breath and smiled at him again. “I’m glad you came with me, Zevran.”
He paused in his work to look at her. He had always appreciated her looks, but it was always the smile that caught him off-guard. He was used to a certain kind of scrutiny from women, a perusal that had everything to do with appearance and bearing. Longing, lust, envy, these things he knew well and could respond to. Asleena’s smile, though...He thought for a moment, pondering if her feelings towards him had shifted. If Alistair was in Markham, if he forgave her, Zevran might not have another chance to learn the answer.
“How is your back?” he asked suddenly.
“My…? Oh.” She sat up and crooked an arm behind her to feel. “A bit of an ache, but otherwise it feels fine. When do the stitches have to come out?”
“It’s been long enough. I can do it now if you like.” He got up when she nodded, put down his blade and came behind her. “Your shirt,” he reminded her in a quiet voice, turning away.
“Right.” There was a note in that singular word. Uneasiness? He dismissed the thought. She had not forbidden him to misbehave, unlike last time. “Ready,” she said.
She still had her arms in the garment, he noticed, and they were folded across her front to hide her more salient features. She was quiet as he knelt behind her and examined the healing dagger wound with his fingers and eyes. “Yes, these can come out,” he murmured, and carefully slit the stitches with a dagger he kept in his right boot. “Does this hurt?” he asked as he picked the threads away.
“No. It just feels a bit strange is all.”
He let the last silk thread fall. “And this?” he asked in a softer voice, then bent his head to gently brush his lips against the scar. When she didn’t react he kissed her again, higher up the spine, then again, ascending slowly to the base of her neck, then into the curve of her shoulder. He felt her shiver then, heard the small intake of breath and lifted his face when he saw hers turn towards him, ready to capture her mouth. But she stopped a mere breath away, blinking at him.
“…Zevran.”
There was no anger, no shock…but the way she said his name made it clear she had been expecting, hoping to see someone else. No prizes needed to be offered for guessing who.
She shifted subtly, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“No. It was my mistake.” He rose and returned to his seat on the other side of the fire, making sure he waited long enough for her to get her clothes in order before sitting to face her again. After a long, silent minute, Zevran spoke again. “You said you are glad I am here. May I ask why I am here? Of all your companions, why bring me, only me?” He waited for a response, but she only stared into the flames. “Am I here to be the one who comforts you if Alistair turns you away?”
Her head jerked up at that. “No,” she said adamantly, but her face had paled.
She is not sure she speaks truly on that score.
“I would not complain if it were true,” he replied. “I simply wish to know where we stand. Why am I, alone of all of them, here with you? Is my presence some sort of test for yourself, perhaps? Entertainment? Torture?”
“No. Zevran…” She fixed him with an unhappy frown. “I did not bring you along to use you. How can you think that of me?”
“Why not Leliana, then? Wynne? Someone who does not see you as I do.”
“How do you see me, Zevran?” she asked quietly.
“…as someone desirable and tempting. Need I have told you? So. Why me?”
“No one else would come.”
His brows shot up in open surprise. “What? You asked them and they said no?”
“Not…as such. They all had other plans. Sten wanted to go home, Leliana to seek out Marjolaine, Wynne and Shale—“
“You didn’t ask them, did you?”
“How could I?”
“It’s quite easy, my dear. You open your mouth and words come out.”
“No!” She got up, looking first angry, then upset. “You were the only one who offered to stay with me, Zevran. I couldn’t ask the others because…” her face twisted, “…because I was afraid they would reject me to my face, all right? Do you know who of them spoke to me about Alistair after the Landsmeet? None. Not a word was said. No one even asked why! They just…kept on going, kept talking to me like nothing was wrong, like I hadn’t just cut my heart out!” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly and spoke in a more controlled tone of voice. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them...condemned me for letting Alistair go like that. B-because no one even asked if I was all right.” Her voice broke on the last sentence and tears spilled down her cheeks, shining in the firelight. “You were the only one who offered to come, Zevran,” she repeated in a small voice. “And I didn’t want to travel alone.”
Zevran waited silently, half expecting her to flee for the shelter of her tent, but she sat down again and wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees. One hand wiped at her cheeks. He had seen her tears before, but not like this.
“Self-pity is unbecoming of you, Asleena,” he said at last, but not unkindly. “Your friends had followed you that far, under the very shadow of the archdemon’s wings. Do you really believe they would not have helped you in this?”
“I…I know. I should have asked. You’re right, of course.”
“I’m not trying to rub your face in it.” He stretched his legs out, looked up at the stars and sighed. “I don’t know why no one spoke to you, but I do know they spoke of you when you were absent. Leliana and Wynne in particular were worried for you.”
Silence fell again.
“It is late. You should get some sleep. I will wake you in a few hours.”
Asleena nodded once, got up and went to her tent, leaving Zevran alone to his contemplations.
***
Click here to see a beautiful scene with Zevran and Asleena by Zinoodle (Kornichon on BSN) from Chapter 6. Thanks Zinoodle!
Part 6 - Companions
Zevran woke in a clean bed with daylight streaming through a west-facing window. He lay still for a moment, listening for any tell-tale sounds that he might have company before sitting up and looking around. His blades lay sheathed nearby in easy reach, his leathers and clothes were clean and hung across the back of a chair. On a dresser near the bed were bandages and a couple of poultices. The room was a simple one, log walls, wooden furniture, none of it painted, all lovingly carved. Feeling a stiffness on the side of his neck he reached up and was surprised to feel dressings padded there. More of them were wrapped around his right thigh, bulking on the inside over a major artery. What—or who—had he been doing to suffer a wound there?
He frowned to himself, trying to piece together the last things he remembered. Creeping between trees in the dark. Dead hands reaching up unexpectedly from the undergrowth at his very feet. A brief struggle. A candlelit room. Wine. A pretty woman with pale eyes and black hair kissing his neck. Then…He sat very still and concentrated, using all his training to dredge up the details. He remembered Asleena facing off against the woman. He remembered blood, pain, teeth tearing into his leg when he’d made his attack, and shouting at Asleena to finish the job when he’d realised he was too weakened to do it himself.
Zevran rubbed a hand over his face and sank back into the pillows with a deep sigh. That was going to be tricky. Urgency had driven her to make that kill, but she was not going to be happy about it even if she was convinced it was the best option available.
Movement outside caught his eye and he looked out the window. Asleena, wearing full dragonscale armour, had walked into view with a middle-aged man who had the build of a miner or stonemason. Zevran watched their faces and body language as they stopped and spoke. The man was haggard and unsmiling, his movements tense, his manner like one who felt he owed a debt to someone he didn’t much like. Asleena’s expression was predictably closed and calm, as it always was when she was distressed or unhappy. She had not learned to maintain an effective façade, probably thinking that becoming withdrawn and stone-faced hid her feelings when it really did the opposite for those who knew her.
The discussion ended and the two separated, Asleena heading for Zevran’s location. He sat up against the bed-head, letting the sheet fall to his waist, and waited for her to arrive.
“You’re awake,” she noted, and to his chagrin did not run her green eyes over his physique. She did look relieved to just see him, however. “How do you feel?”
“Like a woman had her way with me and I didn’t enjoy it very much,” he riposted dryly. “How long was I out?”
“All night and until noon today.” She glanced out the window. “If you’re fit to travel, we should get moving as soon as possible.”
He got up immediately and went for his clothes. “Trouble?”
“We’re in no danger. At least, I don’t believe so. The villagers, the few who survived, don’t remember much…” She shrugged an armoured shoulder. “They’re…grateful, I suppose… but the demon killed most of them, or made them kill each other, and they’re only just now coming to terms with the deaths of people they’ve known all their lives.” She watched him as he pulled his shirt on, then said, “And they don’t know how to take it that I killed some of them, too.”
“You had to barge through a few to get to the demon, I presume.”
“Fewer than you’d think. Only four. I tried to knock them out so I wouldn’t be forced to hurt or kill them, but…the two girls in the woods? I hit the youngest one too hard. She died this morning.”
Zevran worked the buckles of his leather armour slowly, sorting through possible responses. “It was an accident, yes?”
“A stupid one,” she agreed in a harder voice, frowning. “I seem to be developing a trend of acting hastily when someone I care about is in trouble. She was a little girl, Zevran! Tell me I couldn’t have thought of a better way to incapacitate her than slamming my fist against her skull! And for what? To save—“ she stopped abruptly and clamped her mouth shut, eyes flicking to him.
“—to save Zevran Arainai, cold-blooded Antivan assassin?” he finished for her, seating himself in the now-empty chair.
“That’s not what I…” she began in an apologetic voice, then caught his raised brow and flushed. “Fine…maybe it is. But don’t think I’m suggesting it’s your fault. I just keep remembering the demon’s offer—“
“What offer?”
“You don’t remember? No, you were a bit out of it.” Asleena crossed her arms and leaned back beside the door. “She—it said it could take you, just you, and spare all the others.” Her face became disconcertingly unreadable. “One life, a killer’s life, for the lives of the village.” There was a breath of silence after that statement, then she added, “That’s how the demon put it, anyway. I’d never have agreed to it.”
“A fact for which I am very grateful,” Zevran said smoothly, rising to his feet. “Not that being chained from a roof and having my neck nuzzled for weeks on end isn’t an appealing prospect, but I prefer to be conscious for that sort of thing.” She answered this with a half-hearted smile. He sighed inwardly and picked up his blades, strapping them across his back. “Did you learn anything about Alistair?”
“Not from the villagers, but the demon spoke of him I think. It mentioned a ‘tainted one’ that had come past before we did, and that he was going to look for magi to perform an exorcism. He must have kept going north.”
Zevran cocked his head. “One of the Ostwick guards mentioned a Circle Tower at Starkhaven. Maybe he headed there.”
“Which way is that from here?”
“Northwest, and a fair distance cross-country. We’d do well to continue to the city of Markham for supplies. That will be the fastest road through the Vimmark Mountains, at any rate.”
“Well there’s no point going back to Ostwick. They’ll find out what’s happened here sooner or later. Starkhaven…” she frowned thoughtfully, losing her troubled demeanour. “I thought it sounded familiar before. I know I’ve read it somewhere, in a history book probably. Didn’t an archdemon get killed there?”
Zevran shrugged. “I cannot claim to be an expert on the Blights, my dear.” He picked up his pack. “If you wanted to get going, I am ready. Ah…Ferrix…?”
“Outside,” she said. “I left him here while I went to try and find out where the trouble had started. The miners dug into a sealed room—and I mean completely sealed, solid stone all around. There was a hideous statue there with carvings and such. I couldn’t read any of it, but the woman who got possessed was a scholar of sorts according to one of the villagers. When she went to examine it she must have triggered something.” She glanced up to where Starfang’s hilt protruded over her shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if it really mattered anymore, but I smashed the statue.”
“You should have waited for me. What if something had happened?”
She looked amused and turned for the door. “Don’t you get tired of watching my back?”
He smirked, pleased he’d gotten her to smile, and followed behind with a slight limp. “Not in the least. I could watch it all day.”
Ferrix greeted them outside under a cloudy sky. Zevran crouched to give the mabari a good backrub, feeling oddly touched that a dog of all things appeared so happy to see him. Being an assassin, there were few people who were ever happy to see Zevran—if they saw him at all, of course. The warhound had been properly washed, he realised, and a fresh coating of kaddis decorated his brown fur.
“I couldn’t help noticing when I awoke that I was remarkably clean,” Zevran said to Asleena, who had been glancing from house to house in a detached sort of way. “Someone else bathed me, yes? You wouldn’t be so heartless as to scrub my back and sponge my chest while I was unconscious, surely.”
“A question for the ages, Zevran.”
“No, seriously…” But she was striding away. “Did she?” he asked Ferrix, who barked enthusiastically before galloping off. “Come on! Was that a yes or a no?”
They walked out of the silent village, and not one person came to see them off. Despite Asleena’s erect posture and unhurried pace, Zevran could see the tension in her even through the armour she wore. She wanted to be out of here, away from the condemnation she sensed behind every window. It was hard to fathom how he, an assassin, could feel no guilt about his profession as a hired killer, but she, who tried to save lives, seemed to suffer so much when she failed to protect just one from an untimely fate. He wondered if anyone in this cursed place had given her any gratitude, then felt an unexpected stab of shame at the hypocrisy. Had he really expressed any gratitude? He’d made some glib remark that was entirely in keeping with his character and not at all what she needed to hear right now.
“Asleena,” he said suddenly, on impulse. “Thank you.”
“For bathing you?”
For once, he let the opening pass and kept his voice serious. “No. For coming after me. For saving me.”
She looked over at him, as though to see if he was going to follow up with a joke. When he did not, some of the defensiveness went out of her stance. “You’d do the same for me, right?”
“In the blink of an eye.”
**
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you proud of being an assassin?”
“I’m proud of being a very good assassin. Does that work?”
“Yes, actually. And why crows? Why’d your guild choose to name themselves after crows?”
“Sten asked me that once.”
“Did you give him an answer that satisfied him?”
“As he would say: No.”
“Is it because they’re black? Assassins prefer black, right?”
“How prosaic, my dear. Black is fashionable, I’ll grant, but rarely practical. A good assassin camouflages himself to his surrounds. Out here, for example, dark greens, browns and greys.”
Asleena picked up a piece of wood and fed it into the campfire. It spat and sent up a shower of sparks that whirled away towards the stars. She settled down on her folded blanket again, stretching her toes towards the heat and watching the elf on the other side of the flames with a speculative gaze as he ran a whetstone down the edge of a blade. Ferrix was off to one side, lying on his back with all four paws in the air. Occasionally one of them would twitch.
They’d travelled for a week since leaving the village. Progress had been slow, in part due to most of it being uphill, and in part due to Zevran’s injured leg. It caused him little discomfit now, and he’d removed the bandages from it and his neck that very night. They would reach Markham City the next day and had set up camp off the road. A comfortable routine had been established where they took turns keeping watch or sleeping, cooking, cleaning and so on. It had become quite companionable.
“Well, crows sound awful so it can’t be anything to do with singing talent. Oh, wait!” She leaned forward, eyes shining as she grinned. “Animals have collective names, and the one for crows is ‘murder’. ‘A murder of crows’! Is that it?”
He grinned at her. “I always preferred ‘a scourge of mosquitoes’, myself.”
“You’re not going to tell me even if I do guess it, are you?”
“No,” he said again, imitating Sten’s deep voice so well that she laughed.
“All right, keep your little secrets.” She stretched a little, looked around and gave him a rueful smile. “All this time on the road and I still expect to see one of the others around the fire. I miss…all of them. Even Bodahn and Sandal.”
“Enchantment?”
Her good humour returned instantly. “Enchantment!” They shared a chuckle, then she let out a long breath and smiled at him again. “I’m glad you came with me, Zevran.”
He paused in his work to look at her. He had always appreciated her looks, but it was always the smile that caught him off-guard. He was used to a certain kind of scrutiny from women, a perusal that had everything to do with appearance and bearing. Longing, lust, envy, these things he knew well and could respond to. Asleena’s smile, though...He thought for a moment, pondering if her feelings towards him had shifted. If Alistair was in Markham, if he forgave her, Zevran might not have another chance to learn the answer.
“How is your back?” he asked suddenly.
“My…? Oh.” She sat up and crooked an arm behind her to feel. “A bit of an ache, but otherwise it feels fine. When do the stitches have to come out?”
“It’s been long enough. I can do it now if you like.” He got up when she nodded, put down his blade and came behind her. “Your shirt,” he reminded her in a quiet voice, turning away.
“Right.” There was a note in that singular word. Uneasiness? He dismissed the thought. She had not forbidden him to misbehave, unlike last time. “Ready,” she said.
She still had her arms in the garment, he noticed, and they were folded across her front to hide her more salient features. She was quiet as he knelt behind her and examined the healing dagger wound with his fingers and eyes. “Yes, these can come out,” he murmured, and carefully slit the stitches with a dagger he kept in his right boot. “Does this hurt?” he asked as he picked the threads away.
“No. It just feels a bit strange is all.”
He let the last silk thread fall. “And this?” he asked in a softer voice, then bent his head to gently brush his lips against the scar. When she didn’t react he kissed her again, higher up the spine, then again, ascending slowly to the base of her neck, then into the curve of her shoulder. He felt her shiver then, heard the small intake of breath and lifted his face when he saw hers turn towards him, ready to capture her mouth. But she stopped a mere breath away, blinking at him.
“…Zevran.”
There was no anger, no shock…but the way she said his name made it clear she had been expecting, hoping to see someone else. No prizes needed to be offered for guessing who.
She shifted subtly, pulling away from him. “I’m sorry.”
“No. It was my mistake.” He rose and returned to his seat on the other side of the fire, making sure he waited long enough for her to get her clothes in order before sitting to face her again. After a long, silent minute, Zevran spoke again. “You said you are glad I am here. May I ask why I am here? Of all your companions, why bring me, only me?” He waited for a response, but she only stared into the flames. “Am I here to be the one who comforts you if Alistair turns you away?”
Her head jerked up at that. “No,” she said adamantly, but her face had paled.
She is not sure she speaks truly on that score.
“I would not complain if it were true,” he replied. “I simply wish to know where we stand. Why am I, alone of all of them, here with you? Is my presence some sort of test for yourself, perhaps? Entertainment? Torture?”
“No. Zevran…” She fixed him with an unhappy frown. “I did not bring you along to use you. How can you think that of me?”
“Why not Leliana, then? Wynne? Someone who does not see you as I do.”
“How do you see me, Zevran?” she asked quietly.
“…as someone desirable and tempting. Need I have told you? So. Why me?”
“No one else would come.”
His brows shot up in open surprise. “What? You asked them and they said no?”
“Not…as such. They all had other plans. Sten wanted to go home, Leliana to seek out Marjolaine, Wynne and Shale—“
“You didn’t ask them, did you?”
“How could I?”
“It’s quite easy, my dear. You open your mouth and words come out.”
“No!” She got up, looking first angry, then upset. “You were the only one who offered to stay with me, Zevran. I couldn’t ask the others because…” her face twisted, “…because I was afraid they would reject me to my face, all right? Do you know who of them spoke to me about Alistair after the Landsmeet? None. Not a word was said. No one even asked why! They just…kept on going, kept talking to me like nothing was wrong, like I hadn’t just cut my heart out!” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes briefly and spoke in a more controlled tone of voice. “I couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them...condemned me for letting Alistair go like that. B-because no one even asked if I was all right.” Her voice broke on the last sentence and tears spilled down her cheeks, shining in the firelight. “You were the only one who offered to come, Zevran,” she repeated in a small voice. “And I didn’t want to travel alone.”
Zevran waited silently, half expecting her to flee for the shelter of her tent, but she sat down again and wrapped her arms around her drawn up knees. One hand wiped at her cheeks. He had seen her tears before, but not like this.
“Self-pity is unbecoming of you, Asleena,” he said at last, but not unkindly. “Your friends had followed you that far, under the very shadow of the archdemon’s wings. Do you really believe they would not have helped you in this?”
“I…I know. I should have asked. You’re right, of course.”
“I’m not trying to rub your face in it.” He stretched his legs out, looked up at the stars and sighed. “I don’t know why no one spoke to you, but I do know they spoke of you when you were absent. Leliana and Wynne in particular were worried for you.”
Silence fell again.
“It is late. You should get some sleep. I will wake you in a few hours.”
Asleena nodded once, got up and went to her tent, leaving Zevran alone to his contemplations.
***
Click here to see a beautiful scene with Zevran and Asleena by Zinoodle (Kornichon on BSN) from Chapter 6. Thanks Zinoodle!
Modifié par Shadow of Light Dragon, 12 février 2011 - 07:39 .
#31
Posté 17 janvier 2010 - 04:41
Hecthorn
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Another nice piece of writing!
It is an interesting idea that the villagers don't celebrate Asleena as some kind of saviour, in fact they don't even seem to appreciate the demon's death.
The dialogue with Zevran was also good to read, but I had actually hoped to read a bit more of the villagers and how they deal with the recent happenings.
But that's just one opinion.
More please^^
It is an interesting idea that the villagers don't celebrate Asleena as some kind of saviour, in fact they don't even seem to appreciate the demon's death.
The dialogue with Zevran was also good to read, but I had actually hoped to read a bit more of the villagers and how they deal with the recent happenings.
But that's just one opinion.
More please^^
#33
Posté 17 janvier 2010 - 06:18
Kulkodar
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Gah! The wait is sooo long between chapters. You have a wonderful talent. I can hear Zev's adorable accent as he speaks. You've done quite well capturing his personality.
More, please! more!
More, please! more!
#34
Posté 17 janvier 2010 - 11:15
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Hecthorn wrote...
The dialogue with Zevran was also good to read, but I had actually hoped to read a bit more of the villagers and how they deal with the recent happenings.
Thanks for the comments.
This has me thinking I may revisit the village on the way 'home' to give a bit more closure. It's always very tempting to have things wrapped up at what could be called the end of the quest, but considering all that had happened to the surviving villagers I imagined they wouldn't be ready or willing (or able?) to discuss things with strangers. There would also, intially, perhaps be that undercurrent of 'Maybe it would have just been easier to *not* be saved so we didn't have to wake up to *this*.'But this has inspired me to return to them later and see how they've dealt with things.
#35
Posté 18 janvier 2010 - 02:45
Rhyanekat
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So... Shadow of Light Dragon, you made me love Zevran. I didn't think I could even like Zevran-- and you made me love him. *very small voice* This fic is making me root for Zevran over Alistair. *checks feet* Nope, earth hasn't shifted polarity-- just some really great writing. Two things stand out to me: the first is the strength of Zevran's voice, which you capture beautifully. I heard Zev saying your lines in my head, which doesn't happen often. The second thing I really love about this chapter in paticular, is how you handled the lack of reaction to Alistair's poutyMcpouterson departure and Asleena's response to some of the set aspects of the game. You took someting that was probably motivated by game design and made it integral to the plot and deeply moving from a character perspective. Really enjoying this story-- thank you!
#36
Posté 18 janvier 2010 - 02:23
Hecthorn
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Shadow of Light Dragon wrote...
Thanks for the comments.
But this has inspired me to return to them later and see how they've dealt with things.
One is glad to be of service
:lol:Yes, it is definitely a logical reaction of the villagers to avoid contact with Asleena and Zevran.
After all, Asleena killed a few of them and within the small community of a village, where everybody knows everybody, losing so many people (in comparison to the overall population) to a stranger is definitely disturbing. Especially when a child is being killed.
As they know nothing or only little of the things that happened as they were obsessed by the demon, they might even blame the two for some more deaths.
#37
Posté 18 janvier 2010 - 02:45
AdorableAnarchist
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I'm intrigued by the idea of following Alistair. Which means, I'm now constantly checking for an update to this. Well done!
#38
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 01:46
frostajulie
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Wow! THat was superstar work! I reallt wonder what is going through Zevs head right now. And all my characters felt the same way why didn't anyone ever check up on my pc's broken heart the truth was that they were not really her friends circumstances threw them together but take away those circumstances and the only one that gave a damn was the man hired to kill her and a dog.
#39
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 06:15
Emma-Lath
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I love this story so much, it's amazing! In fact I think I'm addicted to it right now. I can't wait for the nexxt update keep up the good work
#40
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 12:13
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Rhyanekat wrote...
So... Shadow of Light Dragon, you made me love Zevran. I didn't think I could even like Zevran-- and you made me love him. *very small voice* This fic is making me root for Zevran over Alistair.
Say it ain't so, Rhyanekat!
Seriously though, thanks for the comments. I'm always a little wary of writing from Zev's POV, so it's good to be told by you and others I'm doing a reasonable job at keeping him in character.frostajulie wrote...
Wow! THat was superstar work! I
reallt wonder what is going through Zevs head right now. And all my
characters felt the same way why didn't anyone ever check up on my pc's
broken heart the truth was that they were not really her friends
circumstances threw them together but take away those circumstances and
the only one that gave a damn was the man hired to kill her and a dog.
Thanks, frostajulie
I can't agree with the others not being her friends though! I believe Rhyanekat was correct in one of the above posts about the lack of response to the issue just being a matter of design rather than intention. The beauty of nothing being specified is that it can be taken either way--I'm sure there are stories where writers have filled those gaps and had their heart-broken PC comforted in the time before the final battle. And everyone else, as always, thanks very much for reading and commenting
<3 Hopefully I will get the next part written tomorrow evening.
#41
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 01:30
AdorableAnarchist
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*crosses fingers and toes while typing with her nose* We'll try to wait patiently.
#42
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 06:06
MarcusDeVarro
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man when i write Zev's dialoge i struggle to capture his....style, i guess for lack of better terms
but you have done it without a doubt
i am extremely jealous of you
i also like they way Asleena and Zevran interact
again this story as a whole so far has been amazing
but you have done it without a doubt
i am extremely jealous of you
i also like they way Asleena and Zevran interact
again this story as a whole so far has been amazing
#43
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 01:08
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Shorter chapter than normal, but something is better than nothing I hope
---
Part 7 - Difficulties
The walk to Markham City the next morning was not as awkward as Asleena had feared. Zevran spoke and acted like he normally did, avoiding mention of the previous evening, and Asleena made a conscious effort to do likewise. She did not want the relationship with her sole speech-capable companion to dissolve into uncomfortable silences. Even so, a part of her remained uneasy in the elf’s presence. His…attempt on her was something she didn’t know how to deal with. Should she feel angry he’d tried? Guilty she’d let it go past the initial kiss?
Ashamed she’d been tempted, if only for a moment, to let it go further and forget everything in a tempest of fierce passion?
Only so I could close my eyes and believe it was Alistair’s arms around me…
Zevran had been right. She’d known something like this might happen. She had hoped she’d warned him off on the very first day, but that had been almost two weeks ago now. When was the last time the elf had had…well…sex?
Probably on the Summerset.
That thought made her snort under her breath and grin wryly. Perspective could be a wonderful thing. Zevran might be loyal to her, and a friend, but when it came to the bedroom he’d made it clear he was only after pleasure. Asleena was not averse to enjoying herself, but she had never been a frivolous woman—especially when it came to the bedroom. Alistair was the only man she’d known, and she was not about to taint that with an ill-conceived fling.
Not until Alistair knocks me back, anyway, a treacherous voice in her head whispered.
Shut up. That won’t happen.
“So do you know anything about this place?” she asked aloud before a fight could break out inside her skull.
Zevran indicated he did not. “Not the city itself, but I do see something interesting. Those banners above the keep. The yellow one with the black flower design belongs to an Antivan house, the Irrenill. It can only mean a noble of their family is guesting with the Teyrn.”
Asleena thought she heard a shadow of worry in his voice and gave him a quick look, stopping in her tracks. “Aren’t the Crows involved with just about every Antivan noble family? Should we just head straight for Starkhaven?”
He laughed and shook his head. “We will need supplies before we head across the Wildervale, so we have no choice but to enter. We should not run into any trouble, I think. The Irrenill are known for having a Crow attaché, maybe a small number in their entourage, but that is all. If they decide to come after either of us, I am positive we will have no trouble making them regret it.”
“All the same, we’d better keep close while we’re here.”
“I couldn’t agree more. And the closer the better.” He grinned at the baleful look this provoked. “If you want me to stop saying such things, my dear, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop giving me such openings to seize upon.”
Asleena rolled her eyes in resignation and resumed walking.
It was impossible for her to stay irritated at that blasted man for very long.
**
Markham City was not as large as Denerim, but it was much bigger than Redcliff. Farms could be seen stretching north beyond the city walls, while the city proper was shielded behind stone walls. Rising above them could be seen the mighty keep, from which fluttered the black-on-yellow banner of Antiva’s Irrenill family and a gold-on-red standard depicting what looked like a bear’s head. The architecture of the keep reminded Asleena a little of Ostagar, and she remembered the Free Marches had once been a part of the Tevinter Imperium before they’d broken away.
They stopped at the gatehouse to speak with the guards, Asleena hoping she’d have the same luck as at Ostwick and get some news of Alistair, but all of them shook their heads at the description she gave.
“Do not despair,” Zevran told her as they passed into the city. “There are plenty of places to hunt for gossip in a city. Inns, taverns, brothels—“
“He wouldn’t,” Asleena interrupted, aghast. She hesitated. “Would he?”
“Probably not,” the elf agreed blithely, “but I still think we should check. Just to be sure.”
She made a face at him. “We can check the Chantry too, if there is one.”
“Not a bad idea, if he was claiming to be a Templar.”
Visited by a sudden worry, Asleena asked, “What if he’s trying to rejoin them?”
“What if he is? He can’t erase the fact he’s a Grey Warden, can he?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a way to undo it.” She scowled. “Never mind. There’s no point dwelling on ‘what if’s. All right. Since we didn’t eat this morning, we’re going to start our search in a tavern. I’m starving.”
**
They ate, and then they started asking around. The very first difficulty they encountered was an almost universal intolerance to Ferrix coming indoors. While mabari were prized in Ferelden, it seemed they were not regarded anywhere near as highly in Markham. Dogs, in short, were to stay outside. Asleena wasn’t happy about this, but Ferrix obeyed each command to wait at the door when she and Zevran went to enter an establishment. The second difficulty became money. They didn’t have a lot of it, and when opportunistic proprietors kept suggesting they ‘might remember something’, they ended up having a little less each time with nothing to show for it.
“At this rate we might have to do some odd jobs to fatten our purse,” Asleena muttered as they departed yet another tavern. They’d covered a decent portion of the city, it was getting late, and she was frustrated. “I think we should look for the Chantry then find an inn for the night, provided we can still afford one. What’s up?” she added when Zevran didn’t respond.
“We picked up a friend for the last three stops,” he said quietly.
“We’re being followed?”
“I believe so, yes. I will keep an eye on him. Let us proceed.”
Asleena called Ferrix over and the three of them headed down the cobbled street. “I don’t know if I like this, Zevran,” she murmured, resisting the urge to look around. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just grab some rations and get out of here?”
“There is no need to worry yet. Trust me.”
Half an hour later and after a few pauses for directions from townspeople, they found the way to a square which was dominated by a large Chantry. The streets were becoming less populated now. The sun was beginning to set, the sultry light striking glints off stained glass windows, but the double doors of the building were open wide and quite a few people were still going in or out, probably intent on receiving an evening blessing. Several more were gathered around a Chanter’s Board, where an ever-present Chanter was going through the Chant of Light. Flanking the open doors was a pair of Templars, and it was to them that Asleena went first. Since she had decided to don her armour for the day, her approach was not ignored.
“My Lady,” the older of the two greeted, while his companion merely inclined his head and watched carefully.
“Good evening, Sers,” Asleena said politely. “I am Asleena Cousland, a Grey Warden of Ferelden.”
They immediately looked dubious. She had come to expect this. Claims of being a Grey Warden had almost always met with responses that Wardens were supposed to be heading to Ferelden, not in the opposite direction. When she’d made an exasperated complaint about this to Zevran at some point, saying she’d almost never had the same issue in Ferelden where all the Grey Wardens had been presumed killed at Ostagar. Zevran had only laughed at this and said: “You had treaties then, did you not?” Of course, she had left these behind in Denerim to be collected by the Orlesian Wardens.
“I understand your scepticism,” she said before either Templar could comment, “and if you have any questions regarding my identity I will answer as I can. It is not, however, central to what I wish to discuss. I am looking for a friend who may have passed through here a couple of weeks ago, Alistair by name. He was training to be a Templar until the Grey Wardens recruited him, and I was hoping he may have paid his respects to the Chantry here.” She gave them a description, but to her disappointment they both shook their heads.
“Our apologies, Warden, but we see many men pass through these doors every day, and I’m sure one of us would have remembered armour such as you describe.”
“Are you the only two who guard this door?” Asleena asked.
The Templars exchanged glances. “We’re not,” the older one confirmed. “There are others who perform this duty, so it’s possible one of them saw your friend.”
“Could I ask that you share the description I gave to these others you mention, and see if they know anything?”
“I suppose it would do no harm. Very well. If you return tomorrow evening we will tell you anything we learn.”
Asleena almost sighed in relief. It wasn’t much, but it was more helpful than anything else they’d got today and gave her something to hope on. If they weren’t so short on coin she’d have gone inside to make a donation. “Thank you, Sers. Until tomorrow, then.”
When she returned to where Zevran was waiting with Ferrix she repeated what had happened then asked, “Are we still being watched?”
“Yes. And it is a Crow. I expect he will not leave us until we decide on an inn.”
“We could just head back out of the city and pitch our tents.”
“He is only observing, and by himself at that. Whatever we decide, they know we’re here.” He arched a brow at her and shrugged. “Just because there are Crows in Markham doesn’t mean they’ll try to kill us.”
---
Part 7 - Difficulties
The walk to Markham City the next morning was not as awkward as Asleena had feared. Zevran spoke and acted like he normally did, avoiding mention of the previous evening, and Asleena made a conscious effort to do likewise. She did not want the relationship with her sole speech-capable companion to dissolve into uncomfortable silences. Even so, a part of her remained uneasy in the elf’s presence. His…attempt on her was something she didn’t know how to deal with. Should she feel angry he’d tried? Guilty she’d let it go past the initial kiss?
Ashamed she’d been tempted, if only for a moment, to let it go further and forget everything in a tempest of fierce passion?
Only so I could close my eyes and believe it was Alistair’s arms around me…
Zevran had been right. She’d known something like this might happen. She had hoped she’d warned him off on the very first day, but that had been almost two weeks ago now. When was the last time the elf had had…well…sex?
Probably on the Summerset.
That thought made her snort under her breath and grin wryly. Perspective could be a wonderful thing. Zevran might be loyal to her, and a friend, but when it came to the bedroom he’d made it clear he was only after pleasure. Asleena was not averse to enjoying herself, but she had never been a frivolous woman—especially when it came to the bedroom. Alistair was the only man she’d known, and she was not about to taint that with an ill-conceived fling.
Not until Alistair knocks me back, anyway, a treacherous voice in her head whispered.
Shut up. That won’t happen.
“So do you know anything about this place?” she asked aloud before a fight could break out inside her skull.
Zevran indicated he did not. “Not the city itself, but I do see something interesting. Those banners above the keep. The yellow one with the black flower design belongs to an Antivan house, the Irrenill. It can only mean a noble of their family is guesting with the Teyrn.”
Asleena thought she heard a shadow of worry in his voice and gave him a quick look, stopping in her tracks. “Aren’t the Crows involved with just about every Antivan noble family? Should we just head straight for Starkhaven?”
He laughed and shook his head. “We will need supplies before we head across the Wildervale, so we have no choice but to enter. We should not run into any trouble, I think. The Irrenill are known for having a Crow attaché, maybe a small number in their entourage, but that is all. If they decide to come after either of us, I am positive we will have no trouble making them regret it.”
“All the same, we’d better keep close while we’re here.”
“I couldn’t agree more. And the closer the better.” He grinned at the baleful look this provoked. “If you want me to stop saying such things, my dear, I’m afraid you’re going to have to stop giving me such openings to seize upon.”
Asleena rolled her eyes in resignation and resumed walking.
It was impossible for her to stay irritated at that blasted man for very long.
**
Markham City was not as large as Denerim, but it was much bigger than Redcliff. Farms could be seen stretching north beyond the city walls, while the city proper was shielded behind stone walls. Rising above them could be seen the mighty keep, from which fluttered the black-on-yellow banner of Antiva’s Irrenill family and a gold-on-red standard depicting what looked like a bear’s head. The architecture of the keep reminded Asleena a little of Ostagar, and she remembered the Free Marches had once been a part of the Tevinter Imperium before they’d broken away.
They stopped at the gatehouse to speak with the guards, Asleena hoping she’d have the same luck as at Ostwick and get some news of Alistair, but all of them shook their heads at the description she gave.
“Do not despair,” Zevran told her as they passed into the city. “There are plenty of places to hunt for gossip in a city. Inns, taverns, brothels—“
“He wouldn’t,” Asleena interrupted, aghast. She hesitated. “Would he?”
“Probably not,” the elf agreed blithely, “but I still think we should check. Just to be sure.”
She made a face at him. “We can check the Chantry too, if there is one.”
“Not a bad idea, if he was claiming to be a Templar.”
Visited by a sudden worry, Asleena asked, “What if he’s trying to rejoin them?”
“What if he is? He can’t erase the fact he’s a Grey Warden, can he?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. Maybe there’s a way to undo it.” She scowled. “Never mind. There’s no point dwelling on ‘what if’s. All right. Since we didn’t eat this morning, we’re going to start our search in a tavern. I’m starving.”
**
They ate, and then they started asking around. The very first difficulty they encountered was an almost universal intolerance to Ferrix coming indoors. While mabari were prized in Ferelden, it seemed they were not regarded anywhere near as highly in Markham. Dogs, in short, were to stay outside. Asleena wasn’t happy about this, but Ferrix obeyed each command to wait at the door when she and Zevran went to enter an establishment. The second difficulty became money. They didn’t have a lot of it, and when opportunistic proprietors kept suggesting they ‘might remember something’, they ended up having a little less each time with nothing to show for it.
“At this rate we might have to do some odd jobs to fatten our purse,” Asleena muttered as they departed yet another tavern. They’d covered a decent portion of the city, it was getting late, and she was frustrated. “I think we should look for the Chantry then find an inn for the night, provided we can still afford one. What’s up?” she added when Zevran didn’t respond.
“We picked up a friend for the last three stops,” he said quietly.
“We’re being followed?”
“I believe so, yes. I will keep an eye on him. Let us proceed.”
Asleena called Ferrix over and the three of them headed down the cobbled street. “I don’t know if I like this, Zevran,” she murmured, resisting the urge to look around. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just grab some rations and get out of here?”
“There is no need to worry yet. Trust me.”
Half an hour later and after a few pauses for directions from townspeople, they found the way to a square which was dominated by a large Chantry. The streets were becoming less populated now. The sun was beginning to set, the sultry light striking glints off stained glass windows, but the double doors of the building were open wide and quite a few people were still going in or out, probably intent on receiving an evening blessing. Several more were gathered around a Chanter’s Board, where an ever-present Chanter was going through the Chant of Light. Flanking the open doors was a pair of Templars, and it was to them that Asleena went first. Since she had decided to don her armour for the day, her approach was not ignored.
“My Lady,” the older of the two greeted, while his companion merely inclined his head and watched carefully.
“Good evening, Sers,” Asleena said politely. “I am Asleena Cousland, a Grey Warden of Ferelden.”
They immediately looked dubious. She had come to expect this. Claims of being a Grey Warden had almost always met with responses that Wardens were supposed to be heading to Ferelden, not in the opposite direction. When she’d made an exasperated complaint about this to Zevran at some point, saying she’d almost never had the same issue in Ferelden where all the Grey Wardens had been presumed killed at Ostagar. Zevran had only laughed at this and said: “You had treaties then, did you not?” Of course, she had left these behind in Denerim to be collected by the Orlesian Wardens.
“I understand your scepticism,” she said before either Templar could comment, “and if you have any questions regarding my identity I will answer as I can. It is not, however, central to what I wish to discuss. I am looking for a friend who may have passed through here a couple of weeks ago, Alistair by name. He was training to be a Templar until the Grey Wardens recruited him, and I was hoping he may have paid his respects to the Chantry here.” She gave them a description, but to her disappointment they both shook their heads.
“Our apologies, Warden, but we see many men pass through these doors every day, and I’m sure one of us would have remembered armour such as you describe.”
“Are you the only two who guard this door?” Asleena asked.
The Templars exchanged glances. “We’re not,” the older one confirmed. “There are others who perform this duty, so it’s possible one of them saw your friend.”
“Could I ask that you share the description I gave to these others you mention, and see if they know anything?”
“I suppose it would do no harm. Very well. If you return tomorrow evening we will tell you anything we learn.”
Asleena almost sighed in relief. It wasn’t much, but it was more helpful than anything else they’d got today and gave her something to hope on. If they weren’t so short on coin she’d have gone inside to make a donation. “Thank you, Sers. Until tomorrow, then.”
When she returned to where Zevran was waiting with Ferrix she repeated what had happened then asked, “Are we still being watched?”
“Yes. And it is a Crow. I expect he will not leave us until we decide on an inn.”
“We could just head back out of the city and pitch our tents.”
“He is only observing, and by himself at that. Whatever we decide, they know we’re here.” He arched a brow at her and shrugged. “Just because there are Crows in Markham doesn’t mean they’ll try to kill us.”
#44
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 01:25
Hecthorn
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Shadow of Light Dragon wrote...
Shorter chapter than normal, but something is better than nothing I hope
Far better than nothing!
I really enjoyed reading this, especially the part when they walk through the city and Zev mentions, that they're being followed. It made me want to continue, as I always expected an ambush after every turning or so
Keep it coming!
#45
Posté 22 janvier 2010 - 12:24
Emma-Lath
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Yay! another chapater, it doesn't really matter that it's shorter than the other ones, I'm just glad for the update, keep up the good work
#47
Posté 22 janvier 2010 - 01:39
Kulkodar
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- 87 messages
grrr I'm so greedy for more! This is, of course, another wonderful installment. I'll keep checking back for the next chapter.
#48
Posté 22 janvier 2010 - 04:00
tevikolady
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- Members
- 135 messages
I was gonna poke you and see if you posted more. And then I come home to this, whee!!
#50
Posté 22 janvier 2010 - 01:00
AdorableAnarchist
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- Members
- 449 messages
Ahem, still want more! I'm not ashamed to be greedy.
