Thanks - Part Two
Author's note: Aloha! Thanks to everyone who has waited for the next installment. I've been extremely busy with work and still have a lot of projects to finish, but I plan on submitting at least one chapter every week. As usual, this is still a fairly rough draft. The final story probably won't be edited for quite some time - so please excuse the mistakes. Feedback is always appreciated. Enjoy!
The rancid, acrid stench of spoiled eggs, urine and rust was starting to affect even his usually tolerant sense of smell. Zevran had seen the Warden grimace after they slaughtered the first three or four dozen dragonlings the previous hour, so he glanced at Tenniel to see how she was faring. He smiled, glad to see she had reached into her pack for a cloth to wrap around her nose and mouth. It was almost as if she had read his mind. She handed him a piece of scented linen, and he was grateful to see the sympathetic smile in her eyes.
"Ah, I see my Warden has come prepared, as always," he complimented her.
He really didn't want to have to play tough. It was bad enough that the gloomy, foggy cave was filled with constant scratching sounds that put everyone on edge. The clitter-clatter of tiny, clawed feet against the walls and roof of the cavern was like an annoying itch between his shoulder blades. And he couldn't scratch it.
"Would you like one too, Walter?" he heard her ask.
"What? No, no, I'm fine. I've been through worse," the bulky hunter replied, holding up a raggedy and blood-splattered piece of parchment. He shrugged at her before glancing back at his sketch of the cave network. It was over a century old, but not much had changed about the place other than a few more piles of rubble along the main passage.
"Worse than this? This is as bad as being inside of a dragon's gut!" Zevran spat before tying the ends of the lavender-scented cloth around the back of his head underneath his thick helmet. He pushed his helm back down and stretched his arms out.
The hillsman gave a deep, throaty chuckle as he placed the map into one of the pouches attached to his belt and pulled out another folded piece of vellum. "Just you wait until we get into the heart of these caves. They'll be piles of dragon shit twice as tall as me. If either of you make it out of here without vomiting up your breakfast, even I'll be impressed."
"Oh, give us lowlanders a break! I grew up in Antiva City's leather-making district. Rotting flesh and piles of shit I can deal with. The eye-stinging aroma of fermented dragon piss mixed in with the rest; not so much," Zevran retorted flippantly.
"You'll get used to it soon enough," Walter harrumphed before returning to examine his newer map.
"How much farther do you think we have to go? I thought we'd start to see some larger dragons by now…" the newest clansman wondered aloud, his words slightly muffled with the cloth covering half his face.
The Warden put her small pack on her shoulders again before replying to Zevran's question. "I suppose we should be done in another hour or so. The inside of this mountain can't be that big, eh, Walter?"
"Hmmph. Let's hope so. Reggie's making meat pie and I don't want to miss supper." The Avvarian grinned widely, thinking about the pleasant meal that awaited them upon their return to the keep. "She'll be sending Wilton, Roderick and the dogs up after us soon. With any luck, we'll have some good hides and 'bone to carry back with us on the cart. And some meat pies to fill my belly before sundown." He smacked the armor covering his ample midsection and laughed at Tenniel's incredulous stare.
"How can you even think about food in a place like this? Your stomach must be made of rock…"
"Aye, just like the caves I've lived in; don't ye think it's fitting?" he teased her, and Zevran couldn't help but smile at their easy camaraderie.
They walked along in silence for a long while through the dark maze, boot soles treading softly against the volcanic rock. The most experienced dragon hunter took up the rear of their party, one of the Dalish mage's smaller witch-lights strapped to the front of his helmet like some mockery of a three-eyed swamp creature. Tenniel was in the lead, and Zevran stopped suddenly as he noticed her pause and raise her left palm up next to her face.
"Sneaky little bastards," she whispered.
"There's at least three behind us." Walter readied his crossbow and twisted his walking stick, pulling a long, sharp sword out of the adjoining piece of wood to set beside him in case the creatures got too close.
"And four… no, five in front," Tenniel replied with a wicked smile. "We're in luck this time. I think a drake's decided to join the fray."
"I'm ready," Zevran reached for his swords. As soon as Walter let the bottom of his walking stick fall to the cave floor with a loud clang, the beasts were upon them, roaring with displeasure at the invasion of their lair.
"Why do you suppose the little ones are so good at hiding in shadows? They act just like assassins." Zevran queried as they all sat down to rest and clean their blades.
"Yeah, like really bad, third-rate assassins. The sneak attacks are a game for them. But High Dragons lay so many damned eggs! It's a good thing for us that the young are so reckless, even if they are sneaky. Until they get bigger and start breathing fire. Then they just lumber into the fight and use brute force like a rabid dog." Walter replied. He was sitting on a rock, and Zevran watched as he slid his blade in place and brought the two halves of his walking stick together with a sharp twist.
Anybody with a cane who looks as fit as he does is probably hiding something, the Antivan thought to himself while sipping on some fresh water. Hidden weapons, hidden lairs, hidden secrets…
"All the more reason to be grateful for a good ice blade, don't you think?" Tenniel interrupted his thoughts.
"Aye, and that was downright vicious. You just about split that drake in two, and spoiled its hide, Ten-Ten. Poor bastard didn't even stand a chance, what with the poisoned frost blade and the frozen lightning bomb." Walter wrinkled his nose in disgust. The drake's corpse was steaming, the chunks of its flesh already melting in the warm, humid cave.
"Yeah, yeah. Perhaps I was a bit overzealous. But better that than getting scorched. Remember last year? My eyebrows never did grow back right after that…"
Walter guffawed and slapped his thigh, laughing at their shared memory. "Serves you right for trying to take my kill, lass!"
"Take your kill? The damned thing was on top of you, trying to tear through your armor. You ought to be glad I distracted it so you could disembowel it as it leapt up at me!" she retorted with a smirk.
"As the Lady of the Skies is my witness, I am grateful for your assistance. Even if it wasn't entirely necessary at the time." He held up his hand and waggled his fingers before Tenniel could interrupt him again. "And… I'm very glad to see that fighting men and darkspawn hasn't spoiled your dragon-hunting skills…"
Zevran listened to their friendly banter for several more minutes as he cleaned off his blades, applied more poison, and brushed the dried blood off of his armor. He noticed how the dragon blood congealed and flaked off much more quickly and easily than darkspawn or even human blood. After putting the venom away, he was surprised to find that he felt just as eager and energetic as he did when they first entered the dark, gaping mouth of this large cave. The Antivan knew that at least two dozen dragonlings had been felled by his blades alone. Normally, he would be numb with fatigue by now. Perhaps this energy is normal for Dragon Hunters. No wonder Tenniel has always killed more than the rest of our party combined.
"You're doing great, by the way." The Warden reached behind her, groping for his arm, which was offered willingly. She squeezed his hand as they took a short break from walking up the steep incline.
"Hmmm?" he replied, the prickly feeling between his shoulder blades had started again, and he found himself distracted. They had fought through another four dozen dragonlings and three drakes and Zevran was starting to get hungry. He hoped their hunting trip would be over soon.
A steady stream of snowmelt had cut a channel through the cave floor over the centuries, and unlike the lower levels of the cave, the section of the passageway the party was currently resting at wasn't quite as warm or steam-filled. Light was filtering in from some cracks in the cave ceiling up ahead. They had passed a few outcroppings of rock that were encrusted with tiny green gems that reminded him of the Warden's eyes, but they hadn't run into any dragons for several minutes.
Tenniel spoke softly but firmly. "You're doing very well, Zevran. Even better than I had expected. But then again, I've seen you fight. You were good before, and now you're great."
"Aye, dragon-hunting comes naturally to you. You even know how to roll and dodge their hind claws, too. Not many can catch the knack of that so quickly," Walter agreed. The highlander sat on a boulder and rested his leg atop the shorter rock next to him. "We haven't even had to use any potions yet."
Zevran took off his helmet and tilted his head to the side, curious about the strange vibration he was feeling. It came from directly above them. "Thank you," he mumbled as an afterthought to their compliments, wondering what the distracting noise was.
"You feel it too?" The Warden stepped beside him and whispered into his ear.
"Something is… it's like a dull hum, like something's making the whole cave rumble," he answered her, his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.
Tenniel glanced at his face, illuminated by the dull glow of the witch-light and wanted to kiss him. Instead, she flicked her tongue out and licked the bottom tip of his earlobe before quickly stepping around to his other side, a mischievous smile on her face. Zevran narrowed his eyes and gave her a playful growl, baring his teeth at her. He then crossed his arms and leaned casually against the rock wall, waiting for her or the Avvarian to tell him what was going on.
"There's a high dragon flying around up there. When she first wakes up, she flaps her wings for a bit to get the blood flowing. That's the sound we're hearing from above. The rest of the beasties live throughout whatever cave system the high dragon's claimed as her nest, but you can always bet that the topmost part of any cave with an opening will be her main lair. That way, she can fly out for hunting, or sun-bathing, or whatever else she wants to do. She's probably getting ready to leave soon."
"She? That's right, all the flying dragons are females…" Zevran had never bothered to learn about the fearsome creatures, since they seldom showed up near low-lying areas such as his native city. He was intrigued by everything he had heard the past few days, and remembered Walter's words, 'we become more like them so we can fight them most effectively.'
"And as soon as any other females are mature enough to grow wings, the high dragon kicks them out of the cave so they must find their own lair. Or die trying," Walter added, checking his map again. The hillsman reached into one of his many pockets and pulled out a stick of writing charcoal.
"Yeah, I guess I'm not such a bad parent after all, compared to that, eh?" Tenniel leaned against the cave wall close to Zevran, their hips touching. She wondered why she felt this inane urge to touch him so often lately, as if to reassure herself that he was real and there beside her. It was a strange feeling, but she had no idea what to do about it except go with the flow. Her stomach growled, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, wishing they could have a moment alone back in the cabin again instead of having to exterminate dragons. Even if said extermination did seem to put her mind at ease.
They watched Walter add some scribbles to his well-worn map, and she mentally chided herself for giving in when Zevran put his arm around her waist. Tenniel sighed when the Antivan stepped in front of her and caressed her jaw line through the linen scarf with his thumb and the back of his fingers.
"What are you thinking about, my emerald-eyes?" He gave her an intense stare, and wished they weren't bloodstained and stuck in a foul-smelling dragon lair with Ser Walter nearby. His Warden seemed more relaxed and easy-going, and she looked mysterious and alluring with only her eyes showing.
Does he feel the same way…? She wondered to herself as his eyes narrowed. Tenniel realized she hadn't answered him, and she smiled at his impatience. She reached for his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing him through the fabric of her face covering. "Let's wait a bit. No need to jump into the thick of things while she's still here. We wait until she leaves, battle all the drakes and any younglings in there, and then ambush her when she returns. Right, Walter?"
"Mmhmm. The fact that she hasn't sent any others out to thwart us yet means she doesn't think we're much of a real threat. And that means that most of her younglings and the eggs are up there in her main chamber."
"Ugh… we're in for a nasty bit of work, then." Tenniel took off her pack again and pulled a yellow napkin embroidered with cheerful-looking green clovers out of the middle compartment. She unwrapped a few strips of lamb jerky and crackers and offered some to Zevran.
Walter chuckled at the sight of her nibbling on jerky underneath her face scarf several minutes later. "You know, you two lowlanders are just going to lose that snack when we get to the main lair."
"Maybe, maybe not. But right now, I'm starved. Can't think straight when my stomach's growling. "
Zevran nodded at her and bit into a strip of seasoned lamb jerky. "She's a Warden, and she's always hungry."
"Oh? And what's your excuse?" She poked him in the ribs and giggled when the assassin shrugged at her.
"You get hungry more often now than before you became a Warden?" Walter asked.
"Yeah, Alistair said it's a Warden thing. Not sure why, though." It was her turn to shrug.
The brawny Avvarian looked back at his map and tugged on his beard with a puzzled expression on his face. "Hmmm… that doesn't add up."
"What? My getting hungry…?"
"No, no. Not that. This map. There should have been another cavern entrance on the other side of this wall here." He gestured behind his shoulder. "See, this pathway where we're walking on is an old lava tube. The ice melt has cut a small channel in it, but eons ago, a bigger water source hollowed out all these other cave spots in the mountain. And only a decade ago, I'm fairly certain there was an opening to another, bigger room. But we haven't run into anything like that. Must've caved in and been covered up completely." Walter sighed and put away his map. "Oh well, not to worry. Onward and upward. You two pups ready?"
"Always!" Zevran and Tenniel replied, in unison. They smiled at each other and chuckled.
As Zevran watched the Warden shake out her now-empty napkin and put it in her pack next to some potions, he couldn't help but wonder again at the recent turn of events. If anyone else would've tried to call him a 'pup', they'd receive a bruise or two for their trouble. But somehow, hearing it from the burly highlander just seemed, well, acceptable. That clever barbarian never did tell me how old he really is….
"Fuck!" Tenniel was bent over, placing her hands on her thighs for support as she leaned against a large boulder. All three members of the hunting party were panting with exertion.
Zevran took off his helmet and the scarf covering his nose and mouth as he eyed the fog that hovered a few inches above the cavern floor. The entire pathway from the main opening of the cave was littered with dragonlings and drake corpses all the way to the back wall where they had finished the last two off. "That was… intense."
"To say the least. We almost ran out of poison, and I lost my walking stick somewhere in the mists. I was afraid I'd have to rip my peg leg off and beat the monsters off with that!" Walter rolled his eyes, and all three hunters were caught up in a fit of laughter at the images that statement brought to their minds.
Tenniel rubbed her leg and winced, putting a damper on their cheery mood. "Oh, wow. That last little bastard's teeth almost made it through my leg armor."
"You must be more careful, Tenniel. You keep running into the thick of things before we're quite done with the last group. It is difficult to guard your back if you flit about all the time." Zevran chided her, gesturing eloquently before putting one hand on his hip to emphasize his point.
The Warden didn't want to argue with him, especially when he was probably right about it all. She was so used to fighting alone at a certain level above the rest of her party, and now she would have to learn how to work with another fighter who was just as good – if not better – than she was. Tenniel clenched her jaw stubbornly for a moment, and then relented, relaxing her shoulders as she stared at her lover.
"Yes. You're right. I suppose I do have a tendency to… flit, as you say. I run off without thinking about where my comrades want to be. And I'm sorry, Zevran. Forgive me. I will do my best to overcome that bad habit." Tenniel took a few more deep breaths before crossing her arms and idly tapping her fingers, awaiting a response from the blond assassin.
Zevran looked at her for a few moments, pleased to see the sincerity in her eyes and amused by her impatience. "Apology accepted, mi amora. You know your safety is my only concern."
Ser Walter interrupted them with a loud snort. He stared at Tenniel and her Antivan companion incredulously for a moment, then broke into a wide grin before laughing again.
"What's so damned funny now, eh?" She glared at the Avvarian and yanked the scarf from her face.
"Oh, it's nothing. Congratulations, Zevran. You must be quite an amazing fellow, if you can get her to apologize for anything."
"That's a bald-faced lie! I apologize… sometimes!" the Warden stammered awkwardly before she, too, succumbed to Walter's infectious laughter.
For the next several minutes, Tenniel and Zevran rummaged through the carcasses and odd piles of assorted goods that dragons always seemed to accumulate. Several precious gemstones, various weapons and a few sections of weapons-grade dragonbone were salvaged, in addition to many hides. Walter lay against some drakeskin they had piled up on one corner of the ground, waiting for the dogs and their cart to arrive so they could journey back to the keep. He kept watching the cave opening, wary for any sign that the high dragon was returning.
"Found your walking stick!" the Warden yelled, waving the sword in the air. Zevran watched the sun's rays glint against the blade before he returned to admiring the view outside of the cave opening.
"It's a good thing there's plenty of fresh air coming from that hole. Or else I probably would have lost my snack, what with the huge dung heaps against the wall. 'Tis somewhat colder in here than normal lairs."
"Mmhmm. I do not mind a bit of a cool breeze if it keeps the air breathable, so to speak. This dragon-hunting business is not so bad after all." He walked silently towards where she knelt on the ground, watching her back as if he was stalking prey.
Tenniel turned around and smiled up at him when he stood beside her with his hand outstretched. "Trying to sneak up on me? Tsk, tsk, tsk. For shame, assassin! I will not fall for your tricks again," she said, remembering the time he startled her while she was cleaning her blades.
"Tricks? Never! You are not my enemy, and have no need to fear any stealthy skills of mine, my lady," he retorted with a smirk.
"Oh, so it's 'my lady' now? That doesn't sound suspicious at all..."
"Oh, come now. You cannot begrudge a rogue for admiring the beautiful view."
She grasped his hand for support, stood up and dusted her hands against her greaves before glancing through the cave opening again. "Yes, if it weren't for the filthiness and smell of dragon leavings, this would make a fair retreat. It is a very beautiful view."
Zevran moved closer to her and placed his arm around her waist. "Yes, but I was not referring to the view. This wondrous countryside pales in comparison to you, my dear."
"You are such a charmer! Seriously, have you put some sort of Antivan Crow spell on me or something? I swear, what Walter said was right. I fear I am becoming more… pliant. Or… oh, I don't know!" She sighed and gently pushed the Antivan's arm before moving away from him, frustrated at not being able to put her feelings into words.
"Tenniel… what's wrong?" He was puzzled by her behavior.
"No, it's not you, Zevran. Or, it is, but… no, it's not your fault. I just… sometimes I feel like I'm losing part of myself. These past couple days… the more time I spend with you, the more I like it. I want you… I need you. But you… I don't know what to do. This is just not like me. Tenniel Cousland yields to no one! Do you understand? What will I do when you're gone?"
He watched her step backwards, and to him, it felt like someone was trying to pull her away. How dare she doubt me! Does she not understand that she is my bonded now? He reached out for her, even as his brow constricted in anger.
"¡Mujera loca! When I am gone…" he watched horrified, as she stumbled. Tenniel's arms flailed wildly and her mouth opened in surprise as something seemed to grab hold of her left ankle. Zevran moved forward, trying to reach for her, but it was too late.
The sound of her screams as she fell into the hidden fissure was the most frightening thing he had ever heard. The dull thump, the sickening crunch and the silence that followed turned his heart to ice.
"Tenniel! Tenniel!" he yelled. The silence seemed to mock him.
He hadn't even finished his sentence.
Mujera loca = Crazy woman