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[fightright2]

Sialater wrote...

It's a murder of Crows, btw.


He's beating himself up because it's Moira.

Yes, I know he's beating himself up because it's Moira but I think Zevran doesn't factor in that the odds were against him since it's the Crows. Nevermind the fact that he was outnumbered and still preoccupied with Cullen in addition that the Crows had an advantage since they know how Zevran thinks.

And Zevran is blind to all that because he believes he should have been the one to protect her since she means more to him than Cullen and therefore his love should make him infallable when it comes to protecting her.

At least that's the way I see it in my head.

Did anyone else get that as well?

[Sialater]

Since that's what I was going for... thanks for seeing it. For a minute there, I was afraid I'd failed. BADLY.

[Sialater]

Part 29



Moira woke up. At first, she wasn’t sure she’d opened her eyes. She could feel herself blink, however. She was lying uncomfortably on one shoulder, her arms and fingers were growing numb as were her toes and feet. She tried to move and found she was trussed like an animal headed for slaughter. “Unfortunate phrasing, Moira,” she thought to herself. Her mouth was dry and she couldn’t close it, moving her tongue informed her of the gag they’d stuffed between her jaws. She could hear nothing. But she smelled tanned leather and it wasn’t the leather she was wearing. It was the smell of leather she associated with Zevran.



She closed her eyes in concentration, trying to reach for the Fade to summon something to burn off the ropes, but felt nothing. It was almost as if she were Tranquil, but no, she still had her emotions intact: her heart pounded in terror. But strangely, she wasn’t afraid for herself. She was afraid for Alistair and afraid Zevran would get killed trying to save her. She needed to get herself free and not wait. She opened her eyes and found the red glare of a glyph she was unfamiliar with fading. She tried to reach for it again and the glyph flared to blinding life. She winced her eyes closed at the sudden pain. She tried to adjust herself so she wasn’t in as quite a painful position and gave up rather than fall on her face.



Why would the Crows be hired to delay them? What was really going on? There was too much lyrium floating about the countryside. Crows were hired to attack them. There were supposed blood mages in the Tower, again. Jowan was missing. Were the lyrium and Jowan connected? Where did the Crows fit in? Did any of this have to do with Alistair and Weisshaupt? She had nothing else to do since she really couldn’t free herself and could use her magic. With the glyph around her, she doubted she could even use the Fade to get help, either. Stuck and resigned to waiting on a rescue she prayed would come quickly, she forced herself to calm down as she mulled over the events of the past few weeks, looking for reasons why the Crows would have been brought in.





Zevran raced through the alleys, back tracking and crisscrossing the night darkened streets. There was no trail to speak of, but Zevran knew of the few safe houses the Crows used in Pervantium. He’d start with the ones he knew about and kill his way through to the ones he didn’t if he didn’t find her soon.



The first hideout he remembered was behind one of Perivantium’s laundries. Washerwomen and errand runners were still running in and out, despite the lateness of the hour. He stood in the shadows watching for any oddities he could take advantage of. The flow of traffic didn’t seem to end, however and time was running short the longer he stayed there. Staying hidden and wrapping himself in the shadows, he crept along and around to the rear of the building. Glancing around to make sure no one was nearby enough to ambush him, he pushed the combination of bricks in the correct pattern, relieved no one had hired a mage to change them, and a secret door embedded in the brick wall hissed open as its catch was released.



He snuck inside, unlimbering Starfang and his dagger. The secret door opened onto a narrow hallway, lit by inadequately oiled lanterns. Several doors were placed intermittently along the length of it, making the corridor ripe for ambushes. He padded down the hallway to the first door, his leather soled boots soundless on the wooden floor. He checked the gap between floor and door to see if there were any candles lit indicating occupancy. Darkness. He turned the knob and the door swung silently open.



Zevran crept into the room as low as possible, giving as small as silhouette as he could against the dim light in the hall. He stepped back out into the hall and grabbed one of the lanterns, sheathing his dagger. He swept the lantern’s light around the room and found it uninhabited, but with several chests. Everything seemed to have a fine coating of dust. Quickly and expertly, he had the locks open and was searching through them for papers or maps to anything to show where they’d taken Moira. He also divested the trunks of any coins, a bribe might be necessary and Cullen had Moira’s purse along with all their money. He swore under his breath at not finding anything and went on to the next room, repeating his procedure.



The final room was at the end of the hall and the door was also dark. But not unoccupied. He could hear the occasional scuff, or hiss of in-drawn breath from the room. Silently, he ran up to the door, just to the side of it just case someone was clever enough to fire a crossbow bolt through the wood. In one quick movement he kicked the door open and jumped back to peer through the doorway.



“Come in, Zevran,” a gravelly voice said from within the darkness. “I’ll tell you where you can find your mage.”

[Miliat]

Ahhh the cliffhangers, always with the cliffhangers. Love it

[Herr Uhl]

Zevran opens locks! The lies!

[Sialater]

Hey, just cause YOU can't spec your rogue right....

Modifié par Sialater, 25 février 2010 - 01:34 .

[Sisimka]

I hope you're posting more today!

[Sialater]

Sisimka wrote...

I hope you're posting more today!

Yeah, Zevran's talking to me again, thank the Maker.  I'll have more by the end of the day.

[fightright2]

Not to mention a master of mystery as well!

[Sialater]

Wow, thanks! I'm truly humbled and flattered.



This story is turning into a much longer one than I'd planned. Who knew there was this much intrigue in Thedas? Or that Zevran would be such a dominant force in an Alistair fanfic? I'm glad y'all are along with me on this ride.

[Herr Uhl]

Succumb to the force of the Zev, he'll turn you yet.



Even though he doesn't like action figures.

[Kulkodar]

You've definitely kept me coming back to find out how this tale will unfold! It's quite intriguing. I think I may have to go back and read the entire story once it's complete, just for continuity.



I eagerly await the next chapter.

[Sialater]

Part 30



Zevran recognized that voice. In spite of himself, it sent a chill down the elf’s spine and for a moment he was ten years old again, trying to escape the tall, dark haired man’s notice. He set the lantern down and drew his dagger, feeling better at having both weapons in his hands and stepped into the room. The man inside lit a lantern and turned to look at Zevran where he stood in the door. “Bron Wenthai,” Zevran grated on the name, hatred making him tremble slightly before he mastered the urge to kill his former tormentor where he stood.



Bron Wenthai had been one of the trainers for the young boys in Zevran’s age group. The Crows allowed the trainers free reign to with their young charges as they saw fit, believing the harsher the training, the better the Crow. Wenthai, however, believed in rewarding those boys who were better, faster, and prettier, with extra attention. Zevran, being an elf, was prettier than most of his fellows. He was also the top of his class. Wenthai had rewarded his achievements by being especially attentive to him after sending the rest of the boys home to their quarters. One of Zevran’s regrets at leaving the Crows was that he’d never gotten to kill Bron for what he’d done. It may have made Zevran stronger, but vengeance would make him stronger still.



The tall, lean human stalked slowly in a circle around the elf, paying no attention to the naked blades in his hands. Bron had always been attractive, Zevran could admit that. Bron had broad shoulders, narrow hips, well defined muscles, dark hair that draped rakishly across the still-smooth brow. Zevran met the man’s dark eyes, defiantly. “What do you want, Bron?”



The heavily accented Rivaini voice grated on Zevran’s nerves, “What are you willing to barter for your mage, Zevran?” The man reached out and stroked Zevran’s tattoo on the side of his face.



With the hand holding his dagger, Zevran slapped his hand away, “Touch me again and I’ll kill you and find my mage my own way.”



Wenthai’s eyes widened and he laughed, “Oh, ho! Such fire! I thought we beat that out of you!” The foul man leaned closer and lowered his voice threateningly, “I thought we ****ed that out of you.”



Before he could stop himself Zevran reacted. He punched the taller man as hard as he could, sending him reeling backward. Before Wenthai could recover, Zevran was on him with a kick to the groin and another punch to the face. The man collapsed to his knees but started to recover almost instantly. Zevran was there with Starfang at his throat before Wenthai could attack in retaliation. Wenthai froze, the gleaming green blade turning his face a sickly color in the dim candlelight. “You will tell me where she is and I won’t scar that face of yours,” Zevran offered.



“You won’t hurt me, after everything we’ve been to each other.” Wenthai’s voice was confident, the expression in his eyes was not.



Zevran slid the blade lightly along the man’s neck, crouching in front of him, enjoying it as he shuddered in fear, “I was a child. You, my tormentor. You are something to be endured. Tell me where she is, so I no longer have to endure you.”



Wenthai’s eyes tried to peer through his cheekbones to the sword poised against his neck, “She’s at the Nine Horse Hitch, the brothel by the docks.”



“I don’t believe you,” Zevran drew his dagger again and aimed it for the man’s cheekbone, ready to carve it.



“I – I swear! I give you my word as a Crow! They’re holding her there, something about needing a mage to keep a mage!” The man was trembling in terror, now. Zevran suspected it was more at the prospect of getting his pretty face ruined than of dying.



“Very well. I will go to this Nine Horse Hitch and find my mage. You will remain tied up here. If I find out you lied, I will come and carve your lies into your pretty, pretty face,” Zevran told him, coldly. He stood up and kicked the man in the chin. Wenthai collapsed bonelessly, unconscious. Unsurprised, Zevran found rope in the room. Undoubtedly, the Crows were counting on his supposed affection for his former teacher to lull him into being captured. As he tied up Wenthai, he spared a brief thanks to the Maker for sending him on the foolhardy mission against the Grey Wardens. And then thanked him again for them being decent people. He extinguished the lantern after trussing Wenthai up like the nug he was and locked him in the small room.



If Moira was being held by mages, he needed Cullen. He set off at a dead run for the inn he’d sent the ex-Templar to.

[Herr Uhl]

Wenthai's "you won't hurt me after all we've done" made me think of Berserk.



Otherwise, Zevran actually does something useful, woot!

[Sialater]

You really don't like him, do you?

[amethyst_rose2009]

Ugh, that Bron guy is a thoroghly despicable creep! 


I have to wonder about the line "needing a mage for a mage".   Hmm, will we be seeing a certain missing blood mage from the tower?

[Herr Uhl]

Sialater wrote...

You really don't like him, do you?

I like Zevan. Lets see *counts on fingers* my 5:th favorite.

[Palentor]

Seems like Zevran just got his Big Stick time from the saying 'Tread softly, talks in whispers...and carry a big stick'.

Anyhow, you don't need a blood mage to subdue an other mage, regular glyphs and mana drains/sieves go a long way in that...maybe some yet unknown combination of those?

[frostajulie]

ACK I hate that this is the end of the thread. Looking forward to the next update,

[Lord Deshwitat]

Go Zevran, go...

[Sialater]

Part 31



Zevran rushed into the dilapidated inn. It had been in better shape the last time he’d been in Perivantium, but it didn’t matter, with any luck, they’d be out of here by morning with Moira safe and sound. He barely paused to memorize the layout of the common room as he spotted Cullen towering over someone in a dimly lit corner. Perrin noticed him first and with a whine, the great hound leapt to his feet and trotted over to Zevran. Absently, the assassin scratched the Mabari’s ears in sympathy before going over to where Cullen seemed to be arguing with someone who was sitting down.



He came up behind the taller man and heard the tail end of Cullen’s low-voiced exclamation, “—No! It’s none of your business why I need to talk to Senior Enchanter Wynne!”



The husky female voice that answered him sounded vaguely familiar to Zevran, but it wasn’t one he could place. It also seemed to be coming from near the height of Cullen’s waist. The assassin put his hand on Cullen’s shoulder to let the recruit know that he was there. Cullen jumped slightly, startled. Zevran grinned, despite his worry. It was a petty victory, but anything to bring the ex-Templar down a notch or two was always good thing. “Where’s Wynne, we haven’t much time?” he said by way of greeting to Cullen.



The husky feminine voice replied for him, “Well, if it isn’t the painted elf! Why is it following this lyrium addled fool around?”



Zevran blinked, there’d only been one person, one thing, in all of his acquaintance that addressed people with the inanimate pronoun and called him the “painted elf.” He stared down at the voluptuous, petite, and beautiful chestnut-haired dwarf that had been arguing with Cullen and felt his heart leap into his throat. She was wearing plate armor and carried a sword nearly twice her height strapped to her back next to a heavy shield. Her dark hair was very short, trimmed close to her scalp. “Shale?” He demanded, astonished. “Wynne did it? She cured you?”



The prickly dwarf shoved the elf away, her pretty features twisting into a scowl, “By the stone, doesn’t it have better things to do? Where is she?” The short woman shoved Zevran aside as if to peer behind him.



Zevran shook his head at her, just then realizing the only person who ever got the proper pronouns from Shale had been Moira, “She’s in trouble. Cullen is a Grey Warden recruit, I sent him here to find Wynne to get both your aid, my formerly stony friend.” Shale? Mortal? His balance slid further off.



Her huge brown eyes widened as she stared up at Zevran, “What did it allow to happen to the Warden?” Tiny fists bunched up and planted themselves on her armored hips.



Zevran swallowed, “We were ambushed.” He didn’t look away from the accusation in the dwarf woman’s eyes.



“And where is the other stupid one that always sought her favor? Why did it allow this?” Shale demanded, her brown eyes narrowing.



Zevran’s eyes closed in resignation, All right, let us have all of my failures out in the open, then, he thought. Opening them again he said, “He’s a prisoner in Weisshaupt. Is this really the best place to discuss all of this?”



“We leave it alone with her for less than one year, and it can’t even keep her safe THAT long?” The irascible dwarf turned and headed for the stairs to the second floor of the inn. “Well, come along then. I’m sure the elder mage will be very interested in its failures.”



That was one conversation Zevran was not looking forward to. Despite her repeated attempts to get him to speak of his past and voice some sort of regret for his actions as a Crow, he did have a great deal of respect for the formidable matronly mage. Not the least of which was the healthy fear of her ability to turn him into a toad.



The clink of plate mail altered him to Cullen catching up with him. The Mabari paced at his other side. “Who is this person?”



Out of the corner of his eye, Zevran caught Cullen staring at the dwarf and suppressed a chuckle. The former mage hunter was staring at the dwarf woman as if he’d just discovered air was breathable. The boy was all too readable. “That is Shale of House Cadash. The only member of her House, if I am not mistaken. She used to be a golem.”



“A what?” came Cullen’s startled reply.



“A golem. Wynne must have found a way to release her. It’s a long story. Moira or Alistair or Shale herself should be the ones to tell it, however. I am no bard. Or perhaps Leliana can regale you with it, if she’s already set the tale to music,” Zevran tried very hard to keep the bitter tone out of his voice. Cullen was already far too privy to secrets he should not know. And far too privy to Zevran’s failures as well.



It wasn’t a very long walk to Wynne’s room in the inn. Shale entered without knocking, but closed the door behind her, not letting the three of them in. Zevran stood with his hands behind his back, trying not to feel as if he were about to report to a Crow taskmaster. Wynne had taken on the mothering of the group when they were fighting the Blight. If Moira had been their head and their heart and their fire, Wynne had been their mother and councilor. Even his hardened emotions had found a fondness for the mothering of the “elder mage,” especially when she seemed to not take his teasing of her too seriously and realized he was merely deflecting her prying.



He only stood outside that door for a few minutes but it seemed a thousand times that long before Wynne’s voice told him to come in. When he stepped into the room, he noted it was lit by a handful of candles and contained two beds at opposite ends. Wynne sat in an overstuffed chair that from the little he could see, had seen better days. She stood up to greet him. He quickly crossed the room to embrace her and was alarmed at how much more frail she seemed.



Wynne put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back enough to look him in the eye, “So, what trouble have Moira and Alistair gotten themselves into this time?”

[Sisimka]

Yay, welcome Shale!

[amethyst_rose2009]

I love how you wrote the new Shale.  She's perfect and just how imagined she would be as a dwarf.