Great next chapter! You've done a wonderful job weaving the machinations of demons into your story - this was very fun to read!
Dragon Age: The Hunt (Fanfiction) (Completed - Now with Art!)
Débuté par
Shadow of Light Dragon
, janv. 09 2010 03:21
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#202
Posté 16 mars 2010 - 01:49
leeboi2
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MOAR! GIEF MOAR NAO! =D 'Tis good stuff 
Looking forward to more.
Looking forward to more.
#203
Posté 18 mars 2010 - 01:30
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Really tired this week, sorry about the delay. ~.~ I think we're heading into the final leg of the story now, so unless I get sidetracked it might not be too many more chapters before we're done. We'll see how it goes. Thanks for reading. 
Part 25 - Secrets and Revelations
The smell of something delicious cooking, the sounds of murmuring voices, a crackling fire, a bubbling pot and her own growling stomach all brought Asleena awake, but when she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Zevran.
The blond elf lay barely an arm’s length away, his face turned towards hers as he slept. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the assassin asleep before now. Unconscious a few times, yes, but not asleep; he had a way of waking up as soon as anyone so much as scratched at the flap of his tent. He looked…peaceful. The morning sunlight through the trees dappled shifting patterns across the upturned tattooed side of his face. It glinted against a long tendril of hair that hung loose across his closed eyes. There was still blood and dirt on him, token reminders of how rough the last day and a half had been. The fact he was more dirty and dishevelled than she’d ever seen him was mute testimony to how hard he’d striven on her behalf recently…
Almost without conscious volition she reached out to brush the stray lock of hair away, and several things happened at once.
Zevran seized her wrist. A split second later his other hand emerged from beneath whatever he was using as a pillow, the dagger in his fist slicing towards her neck. Asleena reacted without thought and grabbed his forearm, wrenched her other hand free of his grasp and yanked hard, flipping him completely over and twisting his arm behind him. She finished up atop him with one knee pressed to the small of his back and her other leg aching in protest.
There was a muffled groan from somewhere beneath her.
“What a marvellous way to wake up,” Zevran managed in a strained voice.
“Oh, Maker!” Asleena released his arm and hurriedly got off him. “Zev, I’m sorry, I—“
“—saw a weapon coming towards your throat and quite rightly took action,” the assassin finished, flashing her a smile from his prone position. He propped himself up with one arm and gestured disparagingly with the dagger. “Survival instincts die hard, I fear, though I must say it may have been worth the trouble if it meant ending up being straddled by a ravishing woman such as yourself.”
Someone cleared his throat pointedly. “Er…if you two are awake…”
Six Dalish were watching the pair with varying levels of alarm or curiosity, two with weapons drawn. Zevran rolled onto his back and sat up while Asleena settled carefully into her blankets, trying not to wince at the pain her movements had cost her.
She recognised the speaker’s voice, but not his face. “You’re Valar?” she asked.
“I take it I look like an elf and not a Shriek this morning, Asleena?” he replied, smiling kindly as he held out two wooden bowls that steamed.
“…so it wasn’t just an incredibly humiliating dream. Sod.”
“Eat now, talk later,” Valar ordered. “You were burning up all the resources in your body when we got to you last night. Between that and your leg it’s a wonder you managed to stay conscious.”
“They are taking us to a nearby clan when we get moving,” Zevran said. “The healer there will see you back on both feet.”
Asleena started to thank them, but at a stern glance from Valar decided to eat instead. It took a certain amount of effort not to shovel the hot porridge into her mouth as fast as she could. She was famished, but not wanting to disgrace herself in front of her hosts she fell back on the strict eating etiquette that had been instilled as a noble’s daughter and paced herself. It took four whole bowls before she started to feel full, but no one commented, even though Zevran had stopped after two.
“Now drink this,” Valar said, swirling a earthenware cup of fire-warmed liquid and herbs, and she did what she was told. The texture of the liquid tasted oddly familiar, its flavour sweetened but not unpleasantly so.
“Milk?” she guessed after a couple of cautious preliminary sips.
“Halla milk, shemlen.” The healer waited until she’d finished and set the cup aside then held out a wooden crutch with leather padding wrapped around the underarm support. “Here is something to help you walk. It won’t be too comfortable, sadly, but it need only get you to where we’re going. Try standing and tell me how your head feels.”
Zevran was up instantly and offering her a hand, but Asleena found herself hesitating to take it as uncomfortable memories from the previous night rushed back. Her apparent reluctance provoked a flicker of…something…in her companion’s golden-brown eyes. Disappointment. Maybe even a spark of fear. It was rarely easy to read him.
Ridiculous…I had my arm around his shoulder and his arm around my waist for almost all of yesterday, and now I don’t trust to take his hand?
She felt guilty, then angry that she felt guilty. After everything he’d done recently he deserved better. The issue wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, for he’d done nothing wrong, it was just that she’d…well, she’d practically thrown herself at him…and…he hadn’t taken advantage of it, but he’d seen. He’d witnessed something of her she’d have rather kept hidden and she felt exposed as a consequence of that.
Had she ever desired to be in the arms of Zevran Arainai? Yes...she had. He was handsome, capable, charming when he wanted to be, clever, fun to be around, he had those eyes of his, and whatever dark things were in his past he’d been here for her constantly. But there were plenty of things in life she’d wanted or dreamed of, whether as passing whims or so deeply her blood had boiled with the strength of her need. That didn’t mean those desires weren’t sometimes wrong, inappropriate, hurtful or just plain stupid. Some things you just didn’t act on, let alone mention. It was like…she’d told Zev only a few days ago she found his tattoo attractive, but hadn’t gone so far as to let him know she’d always had a fancy to touch it to see if the curved markings felt any different to unblemished skin.
Maybe he’d shrug it all off as desire demon trickery and not believe any of that had truly been her? Maker, she really hoped so…
She reached up just as Zevran began to withdraw his hand and grabbed his wrist. He said nothing but helped her balance on one foot while she got the crutch in order, after which he bent to collect and pack away the few things they’d brought with them. He wasn’t obliged to pick up her armour as she was still wearing it, but she didn’t question him when Duncan’s shield went into a backpack—she wasn’t in much of a position to use it, after all. She’d have to make do with the darkspawn crossbow if trouble came looking for them. She’d probably never see Starfang again.
“Any dizziness?” Valar asked her. “Nausea?”
Asleena rallied and shook her head. “No…not even a bit. Whatever you gave me did the trick.”
“What all healers love to hear,” he replied with a chuckle. “Shall we be off then? Let us clean this place up and get you to some expert care.”
The Dalish made quick work of the camp and then led the way up the leafy trail, heading towards the cave and past it. Zevran walked beside Asleena. At first she thought he was going to make the trip in silence, but he finally said, “Might I ask what happened last night? Rather, what you remember?”
“Besides sucking on the face of a demon, you mean?” Asleena muttered, not trying to hide her flush of humiliation.
Zevran waved a hand. “Oh, that? That’s not so bad. Truthfully, I’m a little envious. I got the demon that wanted to suck my blood. You got the demon that would have been willing to suck—“
“Zevran!”
He grinned impudently. “Ah, there we are. You were looking entirely too serious, my dear. Whatever happened cannot be that bad, can it? You were, after all, fully clothed when we found you.”
“Thank the Maker.”
“So?”
“So. A lot of lies. Wishful thinking and stupid dreams.” She dug the butt of her crutch savagely into the fallen leaves as they walked. “I think a part of me knew none of it was real, but I fell for it and was…happy to fall, in the end. No accusations, no arguments, just acceptance and going back to how it used to be. Then you showed up.”
“Should I not have?” Zevran asked carefully.
“No, no…I was happy to see you! I thought we’d all find Ferrix and go back home together. I’d take you both to Highever and show off my old stomping grounds and…I don’t know. Just enjoy life, I guess.”
“So you do wish for me to accompany you back to Ferelden?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She smiled a little. “You think that however this ends I’d want you to go away? You’re my friend. I’d love to show you where I grew up.” She hesitated. “I actually said I wanted you to come back to Ferelden? What else did I say?”
Something in his posture suggested he relaxed a little at that, though she had no idea why this would be so. “Do you not recall?”
“I…no, actually. A word here or there, but mostly it’s impressions and embarrassing emotions. I remember what I saw, how I felt and how I acted more vividly.” She scowled then, and decided to get it over with. “I tried to jump you, didn’t I?”
“The things you did to try and seduce me,” Zevran said, grinning once more. “Ah, but my fair lady, I have always preferred to have my victims…willing.”
“This isn’t going to change anything between us, is it?” she asked awkwardly.
“Why should it? You were not in control of yourself and I never forgot that. If anything changes then it is entirely your choice of how that is. My desires remain even as they were.”
As they continued on with the Dalish in companionable silence, she wondered about that last claim. She’d have to be blind and stupid to not recognise Zevran cared about her welfare, but it had come to the point that she felt his attention went beyond what she’d expect of him as a ‘mere’ close friend.
“What does ‘amore’ mean?” she asked suddenly. “Is it elvish?”
He couldn’t lie about that, not with a group of elves surrounding them. To his credit, the query didn’t make him look surprised or put a foot out of step. “It is Antivan. Where did you hear that?”
“Just something I thought I remembered you saying last night.”
“Amore…” Zevran lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “‘My friend’...and now I am intrigued. Was I reciting poetry, perchance?”
“If I remember any more of it, I’ll ask you for the translation,” she replied wryly, and he seemed satisfied that he’d gotten away with the deception.
Asleena well knew what the endearment truly meant. She had never mentioned to any of her friends that her brother’s late wife hailed from Antiva.
**
When they reached the Dalish camp less than an hour later, Valar led Asleena to the clan’s Spirit Healer, went to speak with its Keeper about the demon, then took his leave. Zevran saw the old elf and his armed escort off, thanking them for their aid.
“No thanks are required, lethallin,” Valar said, “but please be more careful in the future. Dareth shirel.”
While Asleena was being healed Zevran wandered aimlessly through the camp. A large number of the elves were recovering from injuries, and in one area several fresh earthen mounds rose above the natural level of the ground. In the manner of the Dalish, a sapling had been planted atop each grave. There were eleven. Two were much smaller than the rest.
They would have to return to the earthwound to look for Ferrix, Zevran thought as he gazed at the verdant mortuary, and she would insist upon seeing Sindel if he brought up the fact the elven Keeper lived. That would give Alistair a head start…
I should have told him and ended this. It has gone too far. ‘Amore’? What possessed me to say that?
Had the demon still been alive he’d have cheerfully gutted it a second time. How dare it try to toy with him, and use her to do it?
Muttering something unpleasant, he stalked back to the main area of the camp in time to see Asleena crouching down to strap a dragonbone greave to her healed leg. She stood and said something to the healer, a middle-aged but still attractive woman with braided blonde hair, and Zevran smoothed his features before going over to them.
“You are a half day’s walk from the earthwound,” the healer was advising, “and that’s if you know where you’re going, strangers. Keeper Damalian may provide a guide, but there has been great sorrow here recently. The thought of trusting two she doesn’t know with the life of one of our own…”
“Would telling your Keeper I’m a Grey Warden help at all?” Asleena asked, throwing a grin at Zevran. No doubt she expected him to be amused that she was following his advice of playing that card whenever she could, so he smiled, but unconsciously held his breath at the same time.
“It might,” the elf replied, her brown eyes narrowing. “If it’s true. I heard there were two Wardens in the Green Dales, one of them a shem woman with an elf and a great hound as companions.”
“My mabari warhound,” Asleena explained. “He got separated from us near the earthwound the night before last.”
“I also heard you were accompanied by Keeper Sindel. You were thought to be dead, Warden.”
“As you can see, she is very much alive,” Zevran said when Asleena fell silent. “As am I, and, I hope, the mabari. I had heard Keeper Sindel also lived.”
Asleena blinked at him and the healer tilted her head inquisitively. “That was true yesterday.”
“She was badly wounded?” Asleena asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“She is blight-fevered. Worse than death, wouldn’t you say?”
Asleena took a slow breath and released it. “Maybe there’s a way to—“
“There isn’t,” the healer said in a flat tone. She made a motion to some distant sickbeds. “Unless the mighty Grey Wardens know some miracle cure we mere mortals do not? If so, I would love to hear it.”
“Be very careful of whom you accuse for this sickness, my lovely elf,” Zevran advised with a pleasant smile.
“If her order had gotten here sooner,” came the angry retort, “this might have been avoided! Two. They sent us two. We have a right to blame them, and humans as well. Before they came to our lands we never knew sickness.” She looked at Asleena coldly. “Leave now. Your leg is mended and we are done.”
Asleena watched the healer stride towards the blight-infected area and Zevran noticed her close her eyes, a frown creasing her brow.
“It feels different to darkspawn,” she murmured. “Different to Grey Wardens, too. It’s weaker…but it’s there.” Her eyes opened again, and there was pity in them. “I wonder if Andraste’s Ashes could cure them.”
“Her temple is a little too far away to test that theory, Asleena.”
“I know. I just…wish it were possible to try.” She turned away, her face hardening. “Let’s see if we can get that guide and look for Ferrix, then pay Sindel a visit.”
“Might I suggest getting a replacement sword also? And then what do you intend?”
She glanced at him, a corner of her mouth curving up. “And then, unless you somehow know where Alistair is, we ride on to Starkhaven.”
Thanks for reading. Part 25 - Secrets and Revelations
The smell of something delicious cooking, the sounds of murmuring voices, a crackling fire, a bubbling pot and her own growling stomach all brought Asleena awake, but when she opened her eyes the first thing she saw was Zevran.
The blond elf lay barely an arm’s length away, his face turned towards hers as he slept. She didn’t think she’d ever seen the assassin asleep before now. Unconscious a few times, yes, but not asleep; he had a way of waking up as soon as anyone so much as scratched at the flap of his tent. He looked…peaceful. The morning sunlight through the trees dappled shifting patterns across the upturned tattooed side of his face. It glinted against a long tendril of hair that hung loose across his closed eyes. There was still blood and dirt on him, token reminders of how rough the last day and a half had been. The fact he was more dirty and dishevelled than she’d ever seen him was mute testimony to how hard he’d striven on her behalf recently…
Almost without conscious volition she reached out to brush the stray lock of hair away, and several things happened at once.
Zevran seized her wrist. A split second later his other hand emerged from beneath whatever he was using as a pillow, the dagger in his fist slicing towards her neck. Asleena reacted without thought and grabbed his forearm, wrenched her other hand free of his grasp and yanked hard, flipping him completely over and twisting his arm behind him. She finished up atop him with one knee pressed to the small of his back and her other leg aching in protest.
There was a muffled groan from somewhere beneath her.
“What a marvellous way to wake up,” Zevran managed in a strained voice.
“Oh, Maker!” Asleena released his arm and hurriedly got off him. “Zev, I’m sorry, I—“
“—saw a weapon coming towards your throat and quite rightly took action,” the assassin finished, flashing her a smile from his prone position. He propped himself up with one arm and gestured disparagingly with the dagger. “Survival instincts die hard, I fear, though I must say it may have been worth the trouble if it meant ending up being straddled by a ravishing woman such as yourself.”
Someone cleared his throat pointedly. “Er…if you two are awake…”
Six Dalish were watching the pair with varying levels of alarm or curiosity, two with weapons drawn. Zevran rolled onto his back and sat up while Asleena settled carefully into her blankets, trying not to wince at the pain her movements had cost her.
She recognised the speaker’s voice, but not his face. “You’re Valar?” she asked.
“I take it I look like an elf and not a Shriek this morning, Asleena?” he replied, smiling kindly as he held out two wooden bowls that steamed.
“…so it wasn’t just an incredibly humiliating dream. Sod.”
“Eat now, talk later,” Valar ordered. “You were burning up all the resources in your body when we got to you last night. Between that and your leg it’s a wonder you managed to stay conscious.”
“They are taking us to a nearby clan when we get moving,” Zevran said. “The healer there will see you back on both feet.”
Asleena started to thank them, but at a stern glance from Valar decided to eat instead. It took a certain amount of effort not to shovel the hot porridge into her mouth as fast as she could. She was famished, but not wanting to disgrace herself in front of her hosts she fell back on the strict eating etiquette that had been instilled as a noble’s daughter and paced herself. It took four whole bowls before she started to feel full, but no one commented, even though Zevran had stopped after two.
“Now drink this,” Valar said, swirling a earthenware cup of fire-warmed liquid and herbs, and she did what she was told. The texture of the liquid tasted oddly familiar, its flavour sweetened but not unpleasantly so.
“Milk?” she guessed after a couple of cautious preliminary sips.
“Halla milk, shemlen.” The healer waited until she’d finished and set the cup aside then held out a wooden crutch with leather padding wrapped around the underarm support. “Here is something to help you walk. It won’t be too comfortable, sadly, but it need only get you to where we’re going. Try standing and tell me how your head feels.”
Zevran was up instantly and offering her a hand, but Asleena found herself hesitating to take it as uncomfortable memories from the previous night rushed back. Her apparent reluctance provoked a flicker of…something…in her companion’s golden-brown eyes. Disappointment. Maybe even a spark of fear. It was rarely easy to read him.
Ridiculous…I had my arm around his shoulder and his arm around my waist for almost all of yesterday, and now I don’t trust to take his hand?
She felt guilty, then angry that she felt guilty. After everything he’d done recently he deserved better. The issue wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, for he’d done nothing wrong, it was just that she’d…well, she’d practically thrown herself at him…and…he hadn’t taken advantage of it, but he’d seen. He’d witnessed something of her she’d have rather kept hidden and she felt exposed as a consequence of that.
Had she ever desired to be in the arms of Zevran Arainai? Yes...she had. He was handsome, capable, charming when he wanted to be, clever, fun to be around, he had those eyes of his, and whatever dark things were in his past he’d been here for her constantly. But there were plenty of things in life she’d wanted or dreamed of, whether as passing whims or so deeply her blood had boiled with the strength of her need. That didn’t mean those desires weren’t sometimes wrong, inappropriate, hurtful or just plain stupid. Some things you just didn’t act on, let alone mention. It was like…she’d told Zev only a few days ago she found his tattoo attractive, but hadn’t gone so far as to let him know she’d always had a fancy to touch it to see if the curved markings felt any different to unblemished skin.
Maybe he’d shrug it all off as desire demon trickery and not believe any of that had truly been her? Maker, she really hoped so…
She reached up just as Zevran began to withdraw his hand and grabbed his wrist. He said nothing but helped her balance on one foot while she got the crutch in order, after which he bent to collect and pack away the few things they’d brought with them. He wasn’t obliged to pick up her armour as she was still wearing it, but she didn’t question him when Duncan’s shield went into a backpack—she wasn’t in much of a position to use it, after all. She’d have to make do with the darkspawn crossbow if trouble came looking for them. She’d probably never see Starfang again.
“Any dizziness?” Valar asked her. “Nausea?”
Asleena rallied and shook her head. “No…not even a bit. Whatever you gave me did the trick.”
“What all healers love to hear,” he replied with a chuckle. “Shall we be off then? Let us clean this place up and get you to some expert care.”
The Dalish made quick work of the camp and then led the way up the leafy trail, heading towards the cave and past it. Zevran walked beside Asleena. At first she thought he was going to make the trip in silence, but he finally said, “Might I ask what happened last night? Rather, what you remember?”
“Besides sucking on the face of a demon, you mean?” Asleena muttered, not trying to hide her flush of humiliation.
Zevran waved a hand. “Oh, that? That’s not so bad. Truthfully, I’m a little envious. I got the demon that wanted to suck my blood. You got the demon that would have been willing to suck—“
“Zevran!”
He grinned impudently. “Ah, there we are. You were looking entirely too serious, my dear. Whatever happened cannot be that bad, can it? You were, after all, fully clothed when we found you.”
“Thank the Maker.”
“So?”
“So. A lot of lies. Wishful thinking and stupid dreams.” She dug the butt of her crutch savagely into the fallen leaves as they walked. “I think a part of me knew none of it was real, but I fell for it and was…happy to fall, in the end. No accusations, no arguments, just acceptance and going back to how it used to be. Then you showed up.”
“Should I not have?” Zevran asked carefully.
“No, no…I was happy to see you! I thought we’d all find Ferrix and go back home together. I’d take you both to Highever and show off my old stomping grounds and…I don’t know. Just enjoy life, I guess.”
“So you do wish for me to accompany you back to Ferelden?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She smiled a little. “You think that however this ends I’d want you to go away? You’re my friend. I’d love to show you where I grew up.” She hesitated. “I actually said I wanted you to come back to Ferelden? What else did I say?”
Something in his posture suggested he relaxed a little at that, though she had no idea why this would be so. “Do you not recall?”
“I…no, actually. A word here or there, but mostly it’s impressions and embarrassing emotions. I remember what I saw, how I felt and how I acted more vividly.” She scowled then, and decided to get it over with. “I tried to jump you, didn’t I?”
“The things you did to try and seduce me,” Zevran said, grinning once more. “Ah, but my fair lady, I have always preferred to have my victims…willing.”
“This isn’t going to change anything between us, is it?” she asked awkwardly.
“Why should it? You were not in control of yourself and I never forgot that. If anything changes then it is entirely your choice of how that is. My desires remain even as they were.”
As they continued on with the Dalish in companionable silence, she wondered about that last claim. She’d have to be blind and stupid to not recognise Zevran cared about her welfare, but it had come to the point that she felt his attention went beyond what she’d expect of him as a ‘mere’ close friend.
“What does ‘amore’ mean?” she asked suddenly. “Is it elvish?”
He couldn’t lie about that, not with a group of elves surrounding them. To his credit, the query didn’t make him look surprised or put a foot out of step. “It is Antivan. Where did you hear that?”
“Just something I thought I remembered you saying last night.”
“Amore…” Zevran lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “‘My friend’...and now I am intrigued. Was I reciting poetry, perchance?”
“If I remember any more of it, I’ll ask you for the translation,” she replied wryly, and he seemed satisfied that he’d gotten away with the deception.
Asleena well knew what the endearment truly meant. She had never mentioned to any of her friends that her brother’s late wife hailed from Antiva.
**
When they reached the Dalish camp less than an hour later, Valar led Asleena to the clan’s Spirit Healer, went to speak with its Keeper about the demon, then took his leave. Zevran saw the old elf and his armed escort off, thanking them for their aid.
“No thanks are required, lethallin,” Valar said, “but please be more careful in the future. Dareth shirel.”
While Asleena was being healed Zevran wandered aimlessly through the camp. A large number of the elves were recovering from injuries, and in one area several fresh earthen mounds rose above the natural level of the ground. In the manner of the Dalish, a sapling had been planted atop each grave. There were eleven. Two were much smaller than the rest.
They would have to return to the earthwound to look for Ferrix, Zevran thought as he gazed at the verdant mortuary, and she would insist upon seeing Sindel if he brought up the fact the elven Keeper lived. That would give Alistair a head start…
I should have told him and ended this. It has gone too far. ‘Amore’? What possessed me to say that?
Had the demon still been alive he’d have cheerfully gutted it a second time. How dare it try to toy with him, and use her to do it?
Muttering something unpleasant, he stalked back to the main area of the camp in time to see Asleena crouching down to strap a dragonbone greave to her healed leg. She stood and said something to the healer, a middle-aged but still attractive woman with braided blonde hair, and Zevran smoothed his features before going over to them.
“You are a half day’s walk from the earthwound,” the healer was advising, “and that’s if you know where you’re going, strangers. Keeper Damalian may provide a guide, but there has been great sorrow here recently. The thought of trusting two she doesn’t know with the life of one of our own…”
“Would telling your Keeper I’m a Grey Warden help at all?” Asleena asked, throwing a grin at Zevran. No doubt she expected him to be amused that she was following his advice of playing that card whenever she could, so he smiled, but unconsciously held his breath at the same time.
“It might,” the elf replied, her brown eyes narrowing. “If it’s true. I heard there were two Wardens in the Green Dales, one of them a shem woman with an elf and a great hound as companions.”
“My mabari warhound,” Asleena explained. “He got separated from us near the earthwound the night before last.”
“I also heard you were accompanied by Keeper Sindel. You were thought to be dead, Warden.”
“As you can see, she is very much alive,” Zevran said when Asleena fell silent. “As am I, and, I hope, the mabari. I had heard Keeper Sindel also lived.”
Asleena blinked at him and the healer tilted her head inquisitively. “That was true yesterday.”
“She was badly wounded?” Asleena asked quickly. “What’s wrong?”
“She is blight-fevered. Worse than death, wouldn’t you say?”
Asleena took a slow breath and released it. “Maybe there’s a way to—“
“There isn’t,” the healer said in a flat tone. She made a motion to some distant sickbeds. “Unless the mighty Grey Wardens know some miracle cure we mere mortals do not? If so, I would love to hear it.”
“Be very careful of whom you accuse for this sickness, my lovely elf,” Zevran advised with a pleasant smile.
“If her order had gotten here sooner,” came the angry retort, “this might have been avoided! Two. They sent us two. We have a right to blame them, and humans as well. Before they came to our lands we never knew sickness.” She looked at Asleena coldly. “Leave now. Your leg is mended and we are done.”
Asleena watched the healer stride towards the blight-infected area and Zevran noticed her close her eyes, a frown creasing her brow.
“It feels different to darkspawn,” she murmured. “Different to Grey Wardens, too. It’s weaker…but it’s there.” Her eyes opened again, and there was pity in them. “I wonder if Andraste’s Ashes could cure them.”
“Her temple is a little too far away to test that theory, Asleena.”
“I know. I just…wish it were possible to try.” She turned away, her face hardening. “Let’s see if we can get that guide and look for Ferrix, then pay Sindel a visit.”
“Might I suggest getting a replacement sword also? And then what do you intend?”
She glanced at him, a corner of her mouth curving up. “And then, unless you somehow know where Alistair is, we ride on to Starkhaven.”
#204
Posté 18 mars 2010 - 03:44
Tarante11a
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- Members
- 342 messages
Top stuff as it always is! You made me bark a laugh at the waking tussle - Zevran painfully face down muffling into a pillow is just very very funny somehow. And although the chapter is quite a quiet one (and mercifully so, after all the ghastly things you put the pair through recently - you meanie) it's peppered with lovely wry Zevisms *sighs wistfully*.
BUT you are a fiend with the plot again - ARGH *Jumps up and down and points* "He's right over THERE goddammit!!"
and I'm worried about Ferrix *squeaks toy* "Ferrix?"
[edit: - actually the other thing I meant to say was 'naughty Zev' - is he going to say something or not? I can't see this turning out well for him either way - and she will find out. Poor assassin.]
BUT you are a fiend with the plot again - ARGH *Jumps up and down and points* "He's right over THERE goddammit!!"
and I'm worried about Ferrix *squeaks toy* "Ferrix?"
[edit: - actually the other thing I meant to say was 'naughty Zev' - is he going to say something or not? I can't see this turning out well for him either way - and she will find out. Poor assassin.]
Modifié par Tarante11a, 18 mars 2010 - 06:45 .
#205
Posté 18 mars 2010 - 04:08
Jules8445
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Nicely done! Real life happens and your chapters are definitely worth the wait.
I agree with Tarantella! I was squee'ing the entire chapter, and I loved the way Asleena woke Zev up.
Can't wait for more! As always.
I agree with Tarantella! I was squee'ing the entire chapter, and I loved the way Asleena woke Zev up.
Can't wait for more! As always.
#206
Posté 18 mars 2010 - 11:16
Kulkodar
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mmmm loving this tale! No matter how much you post, until the story's complete, it's never enough! I do hope Ferrix is all right, though. Poor puppy!
#207
Posté 19 mars 2010 - 10:10
Emma-Lath
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Great chapter, as always!
hmmm I wonder what Zevran is going to do now.........
hmmm I wonder what Zevran is going to do now.........
#208
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 05:06
Tasmen
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Oh my so yeah, read the whole story today on ffnet. Left you a review there, but feel I should leave one here too. Wonderful story. Your characterization of Zevran is ridiculously awesome. I love what you are doing with the plot. The pacing is just right and you put just enough hooks/twists in there to keep the reader captivated and wanting more. Bravo!
And to how you left the last chapter..oh my. Tsk tsk Zevran for remaining quiet.
And to how you left the last chapter..oh my. Tsk tsk Zevran for remaining quiet.
#209
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 01:31
Phoenix Swordsinger
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Good job Shadow. You keep the suspense going nicely. Hmmmm..... Ferrix, Alistair, could a meeting be happening there? My mind is full of speculations.
#210
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 01:31
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Thank you Yes, Zev is tempting fate a bit...he better be careful. 
This chapter's for the dog lovers out there.
Part 26 - Return to the Deadfall
“Here. This is the place.”
It looked different in daylight, but there was no mistaking the twisted remains of the fallen tree that jutted out over the earthwound. Asleena had not exactly gotten a good look at it from her more intimate point of view, but Zevran would never forget what it looked like. In the light of the sun its bark was an unwholesome greenish-yellow hue. What leaves it still possessed were all dead, shrivelled and splotched with black.
The darkspawn corpses were still lying where they had fallen, and the blighted earth was splattered quite liberally with blood. The hulking body of the ogre was there too, and Zevran permitted himself a grin and a feeling of professional pride at the sight of a job well done. Things had been moving too quickly to indulge in satisfaction or enjoyment when this fight had taken place, but now he could look back and indulge.
“If you pat yourself on the back any more, Zevran Arainai,” Asleena remarked from nearby, “you’re going to wrench your arm.”
“I doubt that, my Grey Warden,” Zevran riposted with a chuckle. “We assassin types are quite limber. If only we were in a location more suitable for a full demonstration.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at the two Dalish guides Keeper Damalian had sent with them. “Zev and I will look for my warhound,” she told them. “You’d better stay here. He doesn’t know you, so if he’s hurt or sick…well, I don’t want him to injure either of you.”
“We can gather the corpses and burn them, Warden,” one of the elves offered. “It will be better than leaving them to rot into the soil and further damage the Green Dales.”
Asleena nodded. “I can sense if any living darkspawn get near our position, so don’t worry about them unless you hear me shout a warning. You’ll have to rely on yourselves for any of the forest’s natural threats, however. Yell if you need us.”
She turned to Zevran. “I suppose I should start with the basics,” she said, pulling off a gauntlet. Lifting two fingers to her lips, she faced the forest and produced a piercing whistle. “Ferrix!” she yelled.
They waited, but no barking, howling or otherwise returned.
“Unconscious or asleep, then,” Asleena said, and it did not go unnoticed to the assassin that she omitted the option of ‘dead’. “Zev, you keep going up along the earthwound for a bit,” Asleena said, her voice even and her face bearing that if-I-keep-moving-and-don’t-think-it-will-be-easier look. “Maybe he got to the edge and lay down to wait or something. I’ll see if I can retrace our steps into the trees. Catch up in half an hour.”
Zevran nodded. “Good luck.”
They parted ways and began searching. It was midafternoon, leaving at least four hours of daylight to find some trace of the missing mabari. After that it would become too dark to continue, and even with torches it would be hard to find Ferrix amidst the undergrowth unless he gave some signal or they literally tripped over his body. Zevran had to admit the chances were not good if Ferrix had not responded to Asleena’s call. The mabari was imprinted to her, and the number of reasons why he would not come when called or at least call back were few.
He followed the edge of the ravine as he had been asked, hearing the occasional call of Ferrix’s name from the forest, but he kept silent and watchful. He paused once to inch cautiously to the very lip of the chasm and peer down, and was rewarded with the sight of a thin ribbon of glittering water far below. For some reason it didn’t look as deep as he’d imagined it to be when falling backwards into the darkness. Would the mabari have jumped as well if he’d been able? The animals were highly intelligent, even if they were dogs, but even the most clever of individuals could willingly seek their own deaths after the loss of someone dear to them. Zevran knew this only too well.
He lay down flat on the ground and wriggled closer to the rim, sticking his head over to scan the inner edge of the chasm, but while there were a few stone ledges here and there he saw nothing of Ferrix and no clear way the mabari might have tried to descend without simply leaping into the void.
Getting up, he brushed dirt from his armour and kept walking. After several minutes of nothing but dead grass and withered plants, he found a small patch of dried blood and a puff of feathers. Many were small, pale and downy things, but there were four larger ones, solid black shading into a lustrous chocolate brown. Zevran picked these big ones up and ran two fingers along the curvature of the longest, smoothing the barbs back into place.
This was where Sindel landed.
He tucked the feathers away and looked around more attentively. There was no blood leading away from the initial site. She had probably changed form and healed herself, then headed south to rejoin her clan.
Realising this was getting him no closer to finding Ferrix, he kept going west for a while longer until it was obvious he would find nothing. He stopped and cocked his head, listening. Asleena had not given up calling the warhound’s name.
Zevran sighed to himself.
There were few lives he’d mourned the passing of, and he had shed tears for no one, not even Rinna. Ferrix had been a fine companion, even a halfway decent conversationalist, but in the end he was still a dog. A dog who had always been happy to see him, gone through his backpack a few times and left drool on his possessions, stolen his dinner once when he’d left it unattended and somehow contrived to make Alistair look the guilty party…then there was Fort Drakon of course…
“Good times,” he murmured, ignoring the tightness in his throat.
Hearing Asleena yell the mabari’s name again, he wondered how long it would take before she finally lost hope and called off the hunt.
**
There were a lot of dark shapes in the forest. It was surprising how many there were when you looked. Clumps of foliage. Dead wood. Darkspawn bodies. Asleena was finding it hard to know whether or not she should feel relieved when each inert form she checked turned out to not be her dog.
She wiped sweat and dirt from her brow, then called for Ferrix again. Her dar’missan, the elven equivalent of a longsword, lashed out to hack a clear path towards another likely-looking lump some distance away.
Paws…fur…blood…
The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach as she struggled closer, slashing plant-life out of her way. Breath choked in her throat.
No…no no no…
She stumbled past the last obstacle, got a clear look, and almost sobbed in relief. She’d never been happier to see a dead blight wolf in her life.
Thank the Maker…
After taking a moment to calm down she nudged the twisted corpse with her foot, looking for wounds. She hadn’t remembered seeing any blighted animals during the fight, and this one hadn’t been killed by blades or arrows. It had been mauled to death by another animal.
“Asleena?” Zevran’s voice called.
“Over here!”
The assassin reached her quickly and appraised the dead wolf. “Ferrix’s work?” he suggested hopefully.
Asleena frowned, sheathed her sword and knelt to prise open the creature’s jaws. Rigor mortis had set in long ago, but the stiffened muscles gave way to brute force in the end. She bent her head to examine the inside of its mouth and stuck a bare finger inside, probing for puncture wounds.
“What are you doing?”
“Ferrix’s collar is spiked,” Asleena said. “It’s not really much protection against a sword or axe, but it is very effective at injuring hands…as well as other animals who try to go for the throat.” Her finger found a spot and she rubbed it, looking up at the Antivan. “As this wolf found out.”
“That doesn’t mean he is alive.”
Asleena stood, wiping her hand off. “I know,” she said quietly. “Maybe Sindel found him though. If she escaped--”
“I fear the Keeper was in no condition to go looking,” Zevran said, pulling a long feather from his belt and twirling it between his fingers before holding it out. “I saw her hawk form once, and it looked as dark as this. I found it and others near the edge of the chasm, along with a good deal of blood.”
“She could have healed herself and then looked.”
He shook his head, regarding her with a sombre gaze. “Considering what she escaped from, Asleena, would you fault her fleeing this place as soon as she could? And we already know she is very sick.”
Asleena stared at him a moment, lowered her gaze and nodded. Sindel may not have even remembered her promise to look for Ferrix, and who could blame her? “Let’s keep looking,” she said. “There’s still time.”
She stopped calling the warhound’s name after that, and the only noises that passed between her and Zevran were the odd “Have you found something?” when one or the other paused, which was always followed by “No.” The constant effort involved with pushing aside, ducking under, climbing over or forcibly chopping greenery, commingled with the hot weather, much warmer than down in Ferelden, was energy sapping and added to the fatigue neither human nor elf had completely shaken off after recent events.
When the light deteriorated and grew poor, Asleena put up her sword. “Zev?” she called, and he appeared over by a stand of low bushes. “That’s enough. Let’s go back.”
He reached her side and together, in silence, they retraced the path to the earthwound. The two Dalish, both wearing leather face masks that covered nose and mouth, lowered their bows when the pair appeared and nodded. Behind them, near the edge of the chasm, a smouldering pyre sent greasy smoke into the rainbow-painted sky.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Asleena said to Zevran in a tightly controlled voice, and wandered east a bit along the edge of the ravine, not wanting to look at the beauty of the sunset. She drove her dar’missan point-first into the ground before kneeling beside it.
“We didn’t find a body,” she muttered to herself, staring fixedly at the darkening horizon and gripping the blade’s hilt hard. “We didn’t find a body. He could still be alive. Keep it together, Asleena…”
Sindel’s clan. They had to get to the camp. If Ferrix wasn’t there then…then maybe they could look again tomorrow. They didn’t have to head for Starkhaven right away. They could return, bring more help. The Dalish had hunters and trackers. She’d heard some of their rangers could even speak to wolves. If they couldn’t find Ferrix it would only be because…
…because he’d ended up in the earthwound. Eaten by darkspawn. Or drowned.
And if they did find him in the forest, what wretched remains would they discover after two days of lying in the open, exposed to scavengers, insects and the elements? Did she really want to see that? The mangled corpse of her beloved friend?
Those thoughts, the hardships of the last couple of days and the exhaustion brought on through the long afternoon of searching and finding nothing finally cracked her armour open. Her head bowed, her shoulders shook and she gasped her sobs around the horrible ache squeezing her chest. The thought of her noble mabari falling so far from home, not even in Ferelden, was suddenly too much to take. Her parents had given him to her when he’d been an exuberant puppy whose idea of running was hopping around on all fours in cute little bounds. He’d been small enough to hold in her cupped hands. The thought of this tiny floppy-eared animal growing into a great warhound had been…impossible to believe back then. Mother and Father had brought in a man from Denerim to teach her how to train Ferrix properly and he’d always been eager to please her…he’d even pinched things from the larder for her when Nan hadn’t been watching. But Nan was dead, her parents were dead, and Ferrix…
There were footsteps behind her, which stopped. She always knew when it was Zevran; he made a point of walking just so when he was approaching her from an unseen angle. Had he been Alistair he’d be beside her in a heartbeat, strong arms around her and rocking her against his chest and letting her get it out of her system.
Maker, but she missed just being held. She’d always had someone. Her family for the greater part of her life, then Alistair after that…and Ferrix through it all. He couldn’t hug, couldn’t talk, couldn’t pat you on the back, but in hard times he always looked at you like he knew exactly what was wrong and wanted to make it all better…those large, dark brown eyes, so full of unconditional love and unwavering trust.
“Everyone loved him,” she said hoarsely. “I even caught Morrigan slipping him treats. Morrigan! Ferrix left a dead animal in her underclothes once. Didn’t think she’d ever get over that.”
“He was…a fine friend.”
She rubbed at her eyes. The sky was getting darker and stars were appearing. “You know…the only time I ever really felt a glimmer of liking and sympathy for Loghain was when I overheard him talking to Ferrix. He had a mabari too, called Adalla.” More tears stung her eyes. “He s-said…he said Adalla died with her head in his lap and he believed she died happy. Ferrix didn’t even have that.”
Zevran said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing he could say.
“But…he could still be alive.” Asleena looked back at him. “Right?”
The assassin did not meet her gaze. “You would know better than I, Asleena.”
She looked at him a moment longer then away. She pulled her sword free and glanced across the chasm. There were black shapes visible on the other side, and memory replayed the disastrous scene of her distracting Alistair, the Shrieks leaping upon him with their cruel blades...
“I never thought to actually ask if Alistair survived the fight,” she realised aloud in a shaking voice.
“He did. I heard the elves speaking of him.”
“You did?” She twisted around to stare at him again. “What else did you hear?” she asked eagerly, hungry for any scrap of good news.
“I heard that he was injured, but is recovering fast.” Zevran expression turned thoughtful. “I heard that some of the Dalish, unlike the fool healer woman we encountered before, are grateful to him and invited him to make his home with them—no small thing, when you consider he is human. He declined, however.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “I…apologise, Asleena. I learned what I did last night when you were fevered and in no condition to hear such news…”
“…and it slipped your mind today? It’s all right.” She gave him a smile. “With all you’ve done recently I think you deserve a little leeway. It’s just…it’s just good to hear he’s alive.”
There was a pause. Asleena wiped more tears away.
“I am sorry about Ferrix, my friend. Truly, I am.” He offered a hand, even though she could easily stand by herself now. She took it anyway. A simple gesture. It helped.
“Thanks, Zev...”
“I think I will miss Oghren’s attempts to put a saddle on him the most.”
An involuntary snort of laughter escaped her, and a grin tugged her lips. She shrugged a nod. “That was pretty funny. You missed the growling match he had with Sten. That was before you tried to kill me.”
“Alas. But I was there for when he stole Wynne’s staff. She should not have suggested giving him antlers.”
“Or turning him purple.” She looked at the pyre. The fire had almost burned out, and the Dalish were scooping earth onto the embers to finish it off. The brief moment of levity faded. “I guess we should get moving to Sindel’s clan. Then…we’ll know for sure.”
They and the Dalish struck out into the trees a few minutes later, heading south. No one spoke, and no one said a word when the far-off, keening sound of a wolf’s howl caused Asleena’s stride to falter briefly and her head to turn. Further away, in answer, another wolf called.
Mabari were descended from wolves, according to Ferelden myth.
She wondered if they knew this, and mourned one of their own.
Yes, Zev is tempting fate a bit...he better be careful. This chapter's for the dog lovers out there.
Part 26 - Return to the Deadfall
“Here. This is the place.”
It looked different in daylight, but there was no mistaking the twisted remains of the fallen tree that jutted out over the earthwound. Asleena had not exactly gotten a good look at it from her more intimate point of view, but Zevran would never forget what it looked like. In the light of the sun its bark was an unwholesome greenish-yellow hue. What leaves it still possessed were all dead, shrivelled and splotched with black.
The darkspawn corpses were still lying where they had fallen, and the blighted earth was splattered quite liberally with blood. The hulking body of the ogre was there too, and Zevran permitted himself a grin and a feeling of professional pride at the sight of a job well done. Things had been moving too quickly to indulge in satisfaction or enjoyment when this fight had taken place, but now he could look back and indulge.
“If you pat yourself on the back any more, Zevran Arainai,” Asleena remarked from nearby, “you’re going to wrench your arm.”
“I doubt that, my Grey Warden,” Zevran riposted with a chuckle. “We assassin types are quite limber. If only we were in a location more suitable for a full demonstration.”
She rolled her eyes and looked at the two Dalish guides Keeper Damalian had sent with them. “Zev and I will look for my warhound,” she told them. “You’d better stay here. He doesn’t know you, so if he’s hurt or sick…well, I don’t want him to injure either of you.”
“We can gather the corpses and burn them, Warden,” one of the elves offered. “It will be better than leaving them to rot into the soil and further damage the Green Dales.”
Asleena nodded. “I can sense if any living darkspawn get near our position, so don’t worry about them unless you hear me shout a warning. You’ll have to rely on yourselves for any of the forest’s natural threats, however. Yell if you need us.”
She turned to Zevran. “I suppose I should start with the basics,” she said, pulling off a gauntlet. Lifting two fingers to her lips, she faced the forest and produced a piercing whistle. “Ferrix!” she yelled.
They waited, but no barking, howling or otherwise returned.
“Unconscious or asleep, then,” Asleena said, and it did not go unnoticed to the assassin that she omitted the option of ‘dead’. “Zev, you keep going up along the earthwound for a bit,” Asleena said, her voice even and her face bearing that if-I-keep-moving-and-don’t-think-it-will-be-easier look. “Maybe he got to the edge and lay down to wait or something. I’ll see if I can retrace our steps into the trees. Catch up in half an hour.”
Zevran nodded. “Good luck.”
They parted ways and began searching. It was midafternoon, leaving at least four hours of daylight to find some trace of the missing mabari. After that it would become too dark to continue, and even with torches it would be hard to find Ferrix amidst the undergrowth unless he gave some signal or they literally tripped over his body. Zevran had to admit the chances were not good if Ferrix had not responded to Asleena’s call. The mabari was imprinted to her, and the number of reasons why he would not come when called or at least call back were few.
He followed the edge of the ravine as he had been asked, hearing the occasional call of Ferrix’s name from the forest, but he kept silent and watchful. He paused once to inch cautiously to the very lip of the chasm and peer down, and was rewarded with the sight of a thin ribbon of glittering water far below. For some reason it didn’t look as deep as he’d imagined it to be when falling backwards into the darkness. Would the mabari have jumped as well if he’d been able? The animals were highly intelligent, even if they were dogs, but even the most clever of individuals could willingly seek their own deaths after the loss of someone dear to them. Zevran knew this only too well.
He lay down flat on the ground and wriggled closer to the rim, sticking his head over to scan the inner edge of the chasm, but while there were a few stone ledges here and there he saw nothing of Ferrix and no clear way the mabari might have tried to descend without simply leaping into the void.
Getting up, he brushed dirt from his armour and kept walking. After several minutes of nothing but dead grass and withered plants, he found a small patch of dried blood and a puff of feathers. Many were small, pale and downy things, but there were four larger ones, solid black shading into a lustrous chocolate brown. Zevran picked these big ones up and ran two fingers along the curvature of the longest, smoothing the barbs back into place.
This was where Sindel landed.
He tucked the feathers away and looked around more attentively. There was no blood leading away from the initial site. She had probably changed form and healed herself, then headed south to rejoin her clan.
Realising this was getting him no closer to finding Ferrix, he kept going west for a while longer until it was obvious he would find nothing. He stopped and cocked his head, listening. Asleena had not given up calling the warhound’s name.
Zevran sighed to himself.
There were few lives he’d mourned the passing of, and he had shed tears for no one, not even Rinna. Ferrix had been a fine companion, even a halfway decent conversationalist, but in the end he was still a dog. A dog who had always been happy to see him, gone through his backpack a few times and left drool on his possessions, stolen his dinner once when he’d left it unattended and somehow contrived to make Alistair look the guilty party…then there was Fort Drakon of course…
“Good times,” he murmured, ignoring the tightness in his throat.
Hearing Asleena yell the mabari’s name again, he wondered how long it would take before she finally lost hope and called off the hunt.
**
There were a lot of dark shapes in the forest. It was surprising how many there were when you looked. Clumps of foliage. Dead wood. Darkspawn bodies. Asleena was finding it hard to know whether or not she should feel relieved when each inert form she checked turned out to not be her dog.
She wiped sweat and dirt from her brow, then called for Ferrix again. Her dar’missan, the elven equivalent of a longsword, lashed out to hack a clear path towards another likely-looking lump some distance away.
Paws…fur…blood…
The bottom seemed to fall out of her stomach as she struggled closer, slashing plant-life out of her way. Breath choked in her throat.
No…no no no…
She stumbled past the last obstacle, got a clear look, and almost sobbed in relief. She’d never been happier to see a dead blight wolf in her life.
Thank the Maker…
After taking a moment to calm down she nudged the twisted corpse with her foot, looking for wounds. She hadn’t remembered seeing any blighted animals during the fight, and this one hadn’t been killed by blades or arrows. It had been mauled to death by another animal.
“Asleena?” Zevran’s voice called.
“Over here!”
The assassin reached her quickly and appraised the dead wolf. “Ferrix’s work?” he suggested hopefully.
Asleena frowned, sheathed her sword and knelt to prise open the creature’s jaws. Rigor mortis had set in long ago, but the stiffened muscles gave way to brute force in the end. She bent her head to examine the inside of its mouth and stuck a bare finger inside, probing for puncture wounds.
“What are you doing?”
“Ferrix’s collar is spiked,” Asleena said. “It’s not really much protection against a sword or axe, but it is very effective at injuring hands…as well as other animals who try to go for the throat.” Her finger found a spot and she rubbed it, looking up at the Antivan. “As this wolf found out.”
“That doesn’t mean he is alive.”
Asleena stood, wiping her hand off. “I know,” she said quietly. “Maybe Sindel found him though. If she escaped--”
“I fear the Keeper was in no condition to go looking,” Zevran said, pulling a long feather from his belt and twirling it between his fingers before holding it out. “I saw her hawk form once, and it looked as dark as this. I found it and others near the edge of the chasm, along with a good deal of blood.”
“She could have healed herself and then looked.”
He shook his head, regarding her with a sombre gaze. “Considering what she escaped from, Asleena, would you fault her fleeing this place as soon as she could? And we already know she is very sick.”
Asleena stared at him a moment, lowered her gaze and nodded. Sindel may not have even remembered her promise to look for Ferrix, and who could blame her? “Let’s keep looking,” she said. “There’s still time.”
She stopped calling the warhound’s name after that, and the only noises that passed between her and Zevran were the odd “Have you found something?” when one or the other paused, which was always followed by “No.” The constant effort involved with pushing aside, ducking under, climbing over or forcibly chopping greenery, commingled with the hot weather, much warmer than down in Ferelden, was energy sapping and added to the fatigue neither human nor elf had completely shaken off after recent events.
When the light deteriorated and grew poor, Asleena put up her sword. “Zev?” she called, and he appeared over by a stand of low bushes. “That’s enough. Let’s go back.”
He reached her side and together, in silence, they retraced the path to the earthwound. The two Dalish, both wearing leather face masks that covered nose and mouth, lowered their bows when the pair appeared and nodded. Behind them, near the edge of the chasm, a smouldering pyre sent greasy smoke into the rainbow-painted sky.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Asleena said to Zevran in a tightly controlled voice, and wandered east a bit along the edge of the ravine, not wanting to look at the beauty of the sunset. She drove her dar’missan point-first into the ground before kneeling beside it.
“We didn’t find a body,” she muttered to herself, staring fixedly at the darkening horizon and gripping the blade’s hilt hard. “We didn’t find a body. He could still be alive. Keep it together, Asleena…”
Sindel’s clan. They had to get to the camp. If Ferrix wasn’t there then…then maybe they could look again tomorrow. They didn’t have to head for Starkhaven right away. They could return, bring more help. The Dalish had hunters and trackers. She’d heard some of their rangers could even speak to wolves. If they couldn’t find Ferrix it would only be because…
…because he’d ended up in the earthwound. Eaten by darkspawn. Or drowned.
And if they did find him in the forest, what wretched remains would they discover after two days of lying in the open, exposed to scavengers, insects and the elements? Did she really want to see that? The mangled corpse of her beloved friend?
Those thoughts, the hardships of the last couple of days and the exhaustion brought on through the long afternoon of searching and finding nothing finally cracked her armour open. Her head bowed, her shoulders shook and she gasped her sobs around the horrible ache squeezing her chest. The thought of her noble mabari falling so far from home, not even in Ferelden, was suddenly too much to take. Her parents had given him to her when he’d been an exuberant puppy whose idea of running was hopping around on all fours in cute little bounds. He’d been small enough to hold in her cupped hands. The thought of this tiny floppy-eared animal growing into a great warhound had been…impossible to believe back then. Mother and Father had brought in a man from Denerim to teach her how to train Ferrix properly and he’d always been eager to please her…he’d even pinched things from the larder for her when Nan hadn’t been watching. But Nan was dead, her parents were dead, and Ferrix…
There were footsteps behind her, which stopped. She always knew when it was Zevran; he made a point of walking just so when he was approaching her from an unseen angle. Had he been Alistair he’d be beside her in a heartbeat, strong arms around her and rocking her against his chest and letting her get it out of her system.
Maker, but she missed just being held. She’d always had someone. Her family for the greater part of her life, then Alistair after that…and Ferrix through it all. He couldn’t hug, couldn’t talk, couldn’t pat you on the back, but in hard times he always looked at you like he knew exactly what was wrong and wanted to make it all better…those large, dark brown eyes, so full of unconditional love and unwavering trust.
“Everyone loved him,” she said hoarsely. “I even caught Morrigan slipping him treats. Morrigan! Ferrix left a dead animal in her underclothes once. Didn’t think she’d ever get over that.”
“He was…a fine friend.”
She rubbed at her eyes. The sky was getting darker and stars were appearing. “You know…the only time I ever really felt a glimmer of liking and sympathy for Loghain was when I overheard him talking to Ferrix. He had a mabari too, called Adalla.” More tears stung her eyes. “He s-said…he said Adalla died with her head in his lap and he believed she died happy. Ferrix didn’t even have that.”
Zevran said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing he could say.
“But…he could still be alive.” Asleena looked back at him. “Right?”
The assassin did not meet her gaze. “You would know better than I, Asleena.”
She looked at him a moment longer then away. She pulled her sword free and glanced across the chasm. There were black shapes visible on the other side, and memory replayed the disastrous scene of her distracting Alistair, the Shrieks leaping upon him with their cruel blades...
“I never thought to actually ask if Alistair survived the fight,” she realised aloud in a shaking voice.
“He did. I heard the elves speaking of him.”
“You did?” She twisted around to stare at him again. “What else did you hear?” she asked eagerly, hungry for any scrap of good news.
“I heard that he was injured, but is recovering fast.” Zevran expression turned thoughtful. “I heard that some of the Dalish, unlike the fool healer woman we encountered before, are grateful to him and invited him to make his home with them—no small thing, when you consider he is human. He declined, however.”
“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
He had the decency to look slightly ashamed. “I…apologise, Asleena. I learned what I did last night when you were fevered and in no condition to hear such news…”
“…and it slipped your mind today? It’s all right.” She gave him a smile. “With all you’ve done recently I think you deserve a little leeway. It’s just…it’s just good to hear he’s alive.”
There was a pause. Asleena wiped more tears away.
“I am sorry about Ferrix, my friend. Truly, I am.” He offered a hand, even though she could easily stand by herself now. She took it anyway. A simple gesture. It helped.
“Thanks, Zev...”
“I think I will miss Oghren’s attempts to put a saddle on him the most.”
An involuntary snort of laughter escaped her, and a grin tugged her lips. She shrugged a nod. “That was pretty funny. You missed the growling match he had with Sten. That was before you tried to kill me.”
“Alas. But I was there for when he stole Wynne’s staff. She should not have suggested giving him antlers.”
“Or turning him purple.” She looked at the pyre. The fire had almost burned out, and the Dalish were scooping earth onto the embers to finish it off. The brief moment of levity faded. “I guess we should get moving to Sindel’s clan. Then…we’ll know for sure.”
They and the Dalish struck out into the trees a few minutes later, heading south. No one spoke, and no one said a word when the far-off, keening sound of a wolf’s howl caused Asleena’s stride to falter briefly and her head to turn. Further away, in answer, another wolf called.
Mabari were descended from wolves, according to Ferelden myth.
She wondered if they knew this, and mourned one of their own.
#211
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 02:00
Phoenix Swordsinger
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the suspense is killing me......
#212
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 02:06
Jules8445
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Me too. lol. You said otherwise....but I'm pretty sure that you would be able to make the end of every chapter suspenseful. I think you could probably make them doing laundry suspenseful...and I would adore every second of it.
I can't wait to see what happens, will be refreshing all day hoping for new posts!
I can't wait to see what happens, will be refreshing all day hoping for new posts!
#213
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 03:45
Tarante11a
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*squeaks toy*
:_(
:_(
Modifié par Tarante11a, 20 mars 2010 - 03:45 .
#214
Posté 20 mars 2010 - 07:21
Tasmen
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Repeats ffnet review (again): Nice job keeping up the suspense.
#216
Posté 22 mars 2010 - 11:27
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Jules8445 wrote...
I think you could probably make them doing laundry suspenseful...
Ok, just so you know, this is completely your fault.
Part ?? - Just Add Water (AKA, Not Officially Part of The Hunt. Unless People get really insistent about it, anyway
)Asleena’s eyes narrowed at her foe. Fingers clenched around her weapon, holding it firmly as she attacked with repeated downward strokes of her hand.
“This stain,” she said through grated teeth, “refuses to come out!”
“Alas,” Zevran said from behind her. The Antivan lounged against a tree with his arms folded and one foot cocked back against the trunk, watching the Warden’s efforts with amusement. “But you have other clothes, surely? Not that I have any complaints about these ones, of course,” he added, lifting a dainty piece of underwear from the nearby line.
“If you don’t put that back right now I swear there will be trouble, Zev.”
“But I am not done admiring--!” The assassin ducked as the soap flew towards him, leaving a splatter of suds and a small waxy mark on the wood where it struck. He tsked, replaced the clothing and retrieved the soap. “You know, being attacked while I am in the act of…examining…a beautiful woman’s lingerie could be considered foreplay, my dear.”
“Or that the woman in question just wants to cause you grievous bodily harm,” Asleena glowered. “Pass it back.”
He grinned and tossed the soap over. She caught it, fumbled, it slipped out of her grasp with a little squirting noise to land in the river, whereby it proceeded to float rapidly downstream.
“Great,” the Warden said flatly.
Zevran chuckled. “Nice catch.”
“You…just…shut it.” She stood, wrenched water from the tunic and snapped it out with a dramatic flourish, spraying the grass with glittering droplets. There was still a very large patch of dried darkspawn blood near the hem. “I should make you finish cleaning this.”
“Ah, the harsh chores we elves are forced to undertake for our noble human masters.” He sighed theatrically and came over, bowing low and extending a hand for the shirt. “It seems I will never be able to escape the shackles of my race. As a Cousland you probably had many elven servants back at Highever, yes? Cooks, cleaners…”
“Er…well, yes…”
“…bed warmers…” he went on, giving her the most lecherous smile in his repertoire.
Asleena draped the dripping garment over Zevran’s head, stood and walked past him in cool silence. Then she stopped, looked back to narrow her eyes at the assassin’s leather-clad, leanly muscled posterior, and sidestepped very carefully up behind him with every intention of thrusting him headfirst into the river.
She should have known she couldn’t sneak up on the former Crow. He spun about, grabbed both of the arms she’d half-extended towards him and threw himself backwards. Had she been prepared she’d have been strong enough to thwart his attempt, but he caught her completely off guard and his weight landed both of them in the cold water.
She emerged with a splutter and an indignant squeal; he laughing uproariously and flinging his wet hair back. The water was waist height, but landing side-on had drenched the both of them from head to foot. Zevran raked Asleena with an appreciative gaze, noting how her sopping shirt clung tenaciously to every curve. That combined with her aggravated expression and dangerous glare only conspired to make her look more fascinating. She went crimson at his brazen appraisal and turned her back on him, floundering off to retrieve the stained tunic that was drifting downstream and muttering something about being too lenient on annoying assassins.
Zevran proceeded to admire her from the rear instead. Just as she should have known she couldn’t catch him with stealth, he should have known what a bad mistake merely adding water would be. Wading after her, he stopped right behind and life-threateningly close before reaching around to claim the shirt from her hands.
“I believe you wanted me to take care of this personally, my Grey Warden,” he said quietly, his lips by her ear, and chuckled low. “Was there anything else…dirty…you wished me to handle?”
#217
Posté 22 mars 2010 - 11:39
Emma-Lath
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..........wow...Jules was not exaggerating when she said you could make doing laundry interesting. I am speechless, I didn't think such a feat was possible, good job.
#219
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 01:03
Tarante11a
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I know Zev is a bunch of pixels etc but that little scene sent my tummy a-flutter! Light sauce, girly romance and humour! Austen eat your heart out. Oh.. except your dead... well, she would have if she wasn't!
#220
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 01:32
Jules8445
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Oh for the love of all that's holy... *fans self before bowing low* I'll take full responsibility for that and anything similar you'd like to throw my way!
Speechless and eager as always for more!
Speechless and eager as always for more!
#221
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 02:00
Shadow of Light Dragon
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The REAL update will be posted this evening after I get home from work (so probably around 10 hours from now, maybe a bit earlier).
#222
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 02:27
Phoenix Swordsinger
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Jules8445 wrote...
Oh for the love of all that's holy... *fans self before bowing low* I'll take full responsibility for that and anything similar you'd like to throw my way!
*pats Jules8445 on the back*
Good job, any more stray comments like that?
Shadow, that was cute. Take this and insert one of LydLyd's Zev art pics... OOOH.....
#223
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 02:29
Tasmen
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Ok, now that? That was what we call awesome. Bravo.
#225
Posté 23 mars 2010 - 03:28
Gilgamesh1138
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I just love this! Quality writing and just wonderful. Thanks again! I can't wait for more. Pretty please may we have another? : )
