AN: This story forms the bulk of chapter 14 of my ongoing work, "The Scions of Seheron." Since it's a short story in its own right, I've decided to also release it separately, with the SoS portions trimmed off. This isn't a happy tale, but I've always felt that the Fog Warriors deserved more than just a footnote and a drunken conversation.
Warning: This story contains mild m/m action and graphic violence.
Disclaimer: Fenris is the property of Bioware and EA.
Free
Fenris awoke with a start, his heart beating rapidly. For a moment, all he could see was blood, but slowly the images of his nightmare receded. Hawke's soft snoring was muffled slightly by a pillow, but the familiar sound helped Fenris remember that he was in Kirkwall, in Hawke's mansion, far away from the jungles of the north. Fenris stared at the other man in silence. The moonlight from the window was dim, but along with the fading coals of the fireplace, there was just enough illumination for the elf to see his lover's face. Garrett's dark hair was still damp from the sweat of their fervent love-making earlier in the evening. It was plastered to his forehead, though a single cowlick curled in the front as a testament to Hawke's normally unruly hair. Fenris's right hand reached forward by instinct, his desire to touch his lover warring with the shame he felt over what had happened on Seheron so long ago. Just before his fingers touched Hawke's cheek, Fenris lost his nerve and stopped. He was close enough to feel Hawke's breath on his hand, but even this he felt unworthy of.
Fresh on the heels of the nightmare, memories of his first taste of freedom refused to fade. Fenris slipped out of bed as quietly and carefully as possible, but paused when Hawke muttered something unintelligble. From the happy look on his face, Fenris guessed his lover was in the throes of a dream far more pleasant than the one he had been plagued with. Then Hawke's speech cleared.
"Mmm... Fenris... love you," Hawke murmured into his pillow, his arms wrapping around it while he nuzzled his bearded face into the soft velvet. Fenris felt an upwelling of affection for the man even as the words lanced at his heart.
"Not if you knew everything, Hawke. Not if you knew," Fenris whispered under his breath as he stole across the room like a ghost, his lyrium tattoos glinting across his naked body from the soft rays of the moon. He quickly pulled on a night robe, then opened the door with bated breath. While it squeaked just a bit, the sound was lost under the hum of his lover's snoring. Fenris closed it gently, then headed toward the estate's library. Though it was dark in the mansion's main hall, the open windows provided enough light from the moon for him to make his way without any mishaps. He had been learning to read for quite some time now, so Fenris wagered that he could probably find the place while blind-folded. Before long, he had lit a few candles and was now standing in front of the largest bookshelf in the mansion. His eyes scanned the spines of the books, the flickering candle light making things somewhat hard to read. Some of the words were still beyond him, but his fingers stopped at one as his breath caught.
"Seheron," Fenris whispered. The full title was "An Illustrated Study of Seheron: From the Coastal Cities to the Tropical Forests of the Interior," but the island's name was the only word that held significance for him at that moment. Fenris wasn't sure how long he stood there without moving, but finally he pulled the book from the shelf and made his way to one of several couches nearby.
The elf wasn't sure what he was doing. He had come to the library to find something to take his mind off of his memories. However, now with book in hand, he felt like he was powerless to resist the sudden whim. Fenris made himself comfortable, at least in the physical sense, then opened the large tome. He was greeted by a detailed, two-page drawing of the capital of Seheron. Though the illustration was black and white, Fenris found that the lines soon became awash with red...
Fenris hurried through the city streets of Seheron, the eponymous capital of the island, with Danarius at his side. The acrid smell of smoke warred with the coppery taste of blood for dominance of his senses as he guided his master past one scene of carnage after the other. With a final, desperate push, the armies of Tevinter, aided by several scores of mercenaries and capable slaves like Fenris himself, had pushed the Qunari out of the city. However, it was only a temporary respite. The full might of Par Vollen had finally been brought to bear on Seheron, and if the reports were to be believed, the Qunari force that had been repelled was less than a fourth of the army that now approached from the north. Already, Fenris could hear the hated rumble of cannon fire in the distance, a sound so loud that it even drowned out the trumpeting of the Imperium's mighty war elephants. His heart skipped in fear, but he knew that as long as his master was safe and sound at his side, there was hope for the future.
"Fenris... slow down, please!" Danarius coughed and stooped over to catch his breath. He panted loudly as he braced his hands on his dark grey robes. The elven slave's eyes went wide with consternation. Never had Danarius ever uttered the word "please" to him.
"Master, we cannot delay! I must get you to the docks! I must get you to safety!" The elf protested, his exposed skin glistening from the heat of exertion. His lyrium brands afforded him some protection from extremes of temperature, but his lightweight armor still felt uncomfortably hot. The armor was completely unadorned, but embellishments weren't necessary as Fenris's worth was traced onto his very skin. His chestpiece and breeches matched the dark grey color of his master's current robes, as did the large greatsword fastened to his back.
"I will die from exhaustion if we continue to run along at this pace!" Danarius argued with a labored breath.
"Do not speak of your death!" Fenris protested before quickly adding, "please master! It pains me to hear such a thing!" Danarius did not object to the initially insubordinate tone of his slave, as he was too drained from running from his now burning estate at the outskirts of the capital.
"I cannot take one more step-" Danarius began, but he was unable to finish his sentence as Fenris bent down, then scooped his master into his arms.
"Fenris!" Danarius barked out in surprise.
"As long as I draw breath from my body, so will you!" The elf growled in defiance and immediately took off toward the east and the docks. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his veins and his lyrium brands began to pulse. With renewed strength and purpose, he was hardly slowed down by the weight of the other man in his arms. The magister's head was nestled against his neck and the heady scent of the cologne he wore helped clear Fenris's senses of the smell and taste of battle. Human, elf, and Qunari bodies littered the streets, necessitating several leaps over grisly displays, each causing the magister to shudder in dismay. Fenris tightened his grip, but he could not speak, for every heaving breath was needed for his current task. Before long they crossed into the harbor section of town, where a great milling mass of people screamed and shouted while being held back by several rows of Tevinter soldiers. Fenris narrowed his eyes while he caught his breath and let his brands fade.
"Master, can you walk now?" Fenris didn't look down at the man in his arms, but rather at the crowd blocking his path to one of three galleons still docked. Twice that number had already pulled anchor and were currently sailing out of the harbor.
"Yes," Danarius took a deep breath. "Yes Fenris, I can." His slave gently set him down, then stepped in front of him.
"How will we get through? I don't even have the strength to set this rabble on fire," Danarius stared at the unkempt, underfed, mewling mass of servants and slaves that stood in their path.
"Hold onto my belt, master," Fenris replied calmly. "Whatever you do, do not let go. I will make a path." Danarius said nothing, but the elf soon felt both of the man's hands press against his lower back, then curl around his belt. Fenris's tattoos flashed once more and he stepped forward. With his hands fading in and out of corporeality, he began strike out at every being in his way. There were screams of pain as his ghostly hands seared through flesh, with his victims quickly giving him a wide berth. He did not strike to kill, but the cries of his victims did not deter him. Fenris said nothing, keeping all of his focus on his hands. Never before had he performed this feat so many times without rest, but never before had he felt so determined. His master's life was at stake and he would not fail!
Finally, he had pushed past them all and found himself being stared down by the baleful masks of the Tevinter army.
"Hold slave!" A soldier commanded and stepped forward. He roughly grabbed for the steel collar around Fenris's neck. The elf did not resist and immediately lowered his eyes. He felt Danarius's fingers unravel from his belt and dared to look toward his master as the magister stood in front of him.
"I am magister Danarius of the ancient house of Cassaeon! Unhand my slave and step aside so that I may board this vessel!" Fenris's master commanded, having drawn up to his full height.
"Of course, magister," the soldier bowed, along with several others who blocked the gangplank to the ship. Danarius sneered at them then turned to Fenris.
"Come along my little wolf," he ordered as he stepped forward. He froze when he heard the loud clang of steel behind him and turned to find two pairs of crossed swords blocking Fenris's approach. "What is the meaning of this?" Danarius demanded, his fury causing a crackle of red energy to flash in his eyes despite his fatigue.
"Oh Danarius. Must we spell it our for you? Play time on Seheron is over. It is time for all of us to leave our toys behind," a snide voice called down from the ship above.
"Ahriman..." Danarius snarled before he turned around to face the tall, grey-haired magister who looked every bit his eighty-seven years. Both men locked their ice-blue eyes on each other, their frigid enmity seeming to the chill the very air between them. "This elf is mine. On whose authority am I denied the transport of my rightful property?" The grey-robed magister bared his teeth at his red-robed rival.
"Oh Danarius, if only you could see yourself in a mirror right now!" Ahriman cackled. "You look every bit the feral creature that your lyrium-branded pet is!"
"I asked you a question, Ahriman! Tell me now or I will not hesitate to take matters into my own hands!" Danarius threatened with a bright flash of crimson from his eyes.
"You don't frighten me, whelp! I was writing dissertations on the mysteries of the Fade when you were still a mere toddler having his bottom scrubbed by house slaves!" The wizened magister laughed again, though the sound held far more cruelty than mirth along its razor-sharp edge.
"Ahriman! I am warning you-"
"Save your warning for the Imperial Archon and the Divine!" Ahriman cut his rival off. "For it is by their joint proclamation that all servants and slaves are to be left behind," Ahriman drawled with a thoroughly patronizing tone that was punctuated by a gleeful smile when the magister glanced from Danarius to Fenris.
"What? How can this be?" Danarius's eyes grew wide and he shook his head in disbelief. "Surely they know that any we leave behind may very well join the Qunari, swelling their ranks even more!"
"The life of a magister, even one as contemptible as yours, is infinitely worth more than that of a servant, let alone a slave! Now get on this ship and let our soldiers do their job!"
"Master?" Fenris called out, immediately drawing Danarius's attention. The two men, master and slave, locked eyes over the glinting, crossed blades.
"Fenris, I..." Danarius didn't dare apologize in the presence of his rival, Ahriman, but the sentiment was plain as day on the magister's blue eyes.
"Master, please. I've been good, haven't I? Please, don't leave me. Don't let them keep me from you..." Fenris pleaded as his green eyes filled with sorrow.
"Fenris, listen to me," Danarius turned around completely and gave no more heed to the hated rival behind him. "You are mine. Nothing will ever change that. I will return for you."
"But... master..." Fenris's breath started to become erratic at the thought of being truly separated from the man who was the center of his entire world. "Where am I to go?"
"Into the jungle," Danarius commanded as he glanced off to the line of verdant foliage that lay to the west of the city. "Flee from here as fast as you can! Remain hidden from the Qunari and I will return for you one day. This I swear!"
Fenris watched in horror as his master then turned a way with a flourish of his dark grey robes and stalked up the gangplank, pausing only to give his red-robed, older counterpart a withering look.
"Out of the way slave!" Someone shouted as Fenris was roughly pushed aside. Another three magisters had arrived sans any servants or slaves and were quickly ushered aboard the ship. When the elf looked back up, Danarius was no longer in sight. A feeling of utter hopelessness filled him and he was frozen to the spot. He did not cry, as he was almost bereft of feeling. His master's words had always dictated how he should feel and Danarius's absence left a cold void in his chest.
Fenris wasn't sure how much time had passed, as it now held little meaning, but more fleeing magisters arrived in sporadic waves, pushing their way through the crowd as the sound of cannon fire grew ever closer. With no hope left, Fenris felt a nearly overwhelming desire to throw himself into the water of the harbor and drown himself. However, before he could continue on that train of thought, he suddenly felt himself being watched. He looked up again just as the closest galleon began to pull away from the pier. Danarius was back at the railing and staring his way. Neither man said anything, but the promise in the blue eyes was clear.
I will return for you...
A spark of hope returned to Fenris's chest. He would follow his master's orders to the last. With his jaw set with grim determination, he nodded to Danarius. At the simple motion, the magister looked like he was about to cry. It was more than Fenris could bear, and he turned from his master's rare show of weakness. Danarius's will became his focal point and with that clarion thought in mind, his brands flared to life again and he made his way through the crowd.
Fenris raced through the streets of the city away from the dock, like a salmon coursing upstream. Everyone else he passed was headed in the opposite direction with great haste, but the elf kept his eyes on the far hills that matched the color of his eyes. He passed into a wide market square and turned to his right to see the city's northern gates a few blocks away. The massive metal and stone bulwark had already been torn asunder by the earlier Qunari force. Bodies of the fallen giants mingled with those of Tevinter soldiers, with vultures already arriving to start their gluttonous feast. Less than a league away, he could see the remnants of Seheron's army trying to buy the city time against the advancing force, but he knew it was a lost cause. At this distance, the Qunari soldiers' red bodypaint gave them the appearance of an inexorable tidal wave of crimson crashing upon the broken black and grey of Tevinter. Fenris spat to the north in defiance, then gritted his teeth and continued on his way to the western gates of the city, a far safer egress than the gate to his right.
Fenris saw fewer and fewer people the further west he traveled on the city streets. Fallen rubble and burning homes forced him off of a direct path, but he kept his wits about him, and continued to turn west with every chance he got. Making his way to the western gates took longer than expected and by the time he saw his goal, he had to catch his breath. Now only a few blocks away, they were open and in far better shape than their northern counterparts, not that it mattered any longer.
Fenris looked around to see that he had entered a smaller market square lined with abandoned trade workshops. The closest one was a glassworks, with bags of sand piled up outside. Many of the bags had been split open by arrows or errant sword swings, with some still slowly spilling sand onto the bloody cobblestones like grim hourglasses. Here, like elsewhere, the bodies of combatants lay in gruesome repose all around Fenris, including one he did not expect in the city proper.
Fenris paused for a moment next to the great, fallen body of a war elephant. The fact that the animal had been brought into the city to fight on the streets proved just how desperate the earlier battle had been. Though a powerful, hulking beast, even its bones were no match for the cannons of Par Vollen. The elephant's head had been smashed, while the archers' platform on its back had been torn asunder.
Inured to such sights, Fenris rested his back against the dead elephant's body. He took a deep breath to collect his thoughts, when movement instantly drew his attention to the side. From around the bulk of the fallen beast, a lone Qunari warrior stepped forth. There were two intact arrows in his right thigh, while his right shoulder held the broken shaft of one. The giant groaned in pain as he shuffled to Fenris's right, completely unaware of the elf. He dragged a stout warhammer on the sandy cobblestones. Fenris stared at the massive weapon, easily besting his own greatsword in size. He knew the Qunari was bound to the weapon and would never willingly leave it on the field of battle, but the weight of the thing was clearly detrimental to the giant warrior's efforts to walk to the north toward his compatriots.
This thing was the cause of Danarius's absence. This thing had to die. Fenris slowly, quietly drew his sword and began to stalk toward the limping warrior. The elf was sure he was silent as could be, but the Qunari suddenly stiffened and turned around. Golden eyes narrowed onto green as mighty muscles flexed. The Qunari lifted his warhammer and squared off against the elf.
"Basra vashedan! You would creep upon a foe who is completely unaware of your presence and initiate battle without honor!"
"Die!" Fenris bellowed in a voice nearly as deep as the Qunari's and rushed forth with greatsword raised and lyrium tattoos blazing. With speed in clear defiance of both size and injuries, the Qunari expertly blocked one swing after another of Fenris's weapon. The greatsword chipped into the haft of the warhammer, but the gleaming, darkened wood was like none he had ever seen, with its ability to sustain such brutal punishment from an expertly sharpened steel edge. In his frustration, the elf fell prey to an expertly maneuvered feint that caused him to overextend his reach. Fenris barely lifted his greatsword in front of his chest in time for the massive hammer's swing.
The head of the Qunari weapon smashed into Fenris's greatsword with enough force to shatter the steel and throw Fenris up and off of the ground. The elf cried out in disbelief as sharp, glinting shards sliced his cheeks and neck, narrowly missing his eyes and jugular vein. The powerful blow had almost wrenched his broken weapon completely from his hands and his wrists ached from the vibration that had traveled from the point of contact into his very bones. He landed on his back with a dull thud and was nearly brained as the hammer slammed right where his head had been before he had rolled away. Again and again the hammer smashed next to him as he rolled one way, then the other to avoid the blows that felt like miniature earthquakes from the way they pounded the cobblestones to dust. With a grunt of exertion, Fenris rolled to a kneeling position, though he nearly slipped on a patch of sand. He quickly recovered and kicked out with one foot, scoring a blow directly to the Qunari's already injured right leg. His opponent gasped in pain and fell to his knees. With sudden inspiration, Fenris held onto his broken weapon with his left hand and scooped a handful of sand with his right. As the Qunari tried to lurch forward in an awkward half-kneeling, half-standing position, the elf threw the sand in his face.
"Basra vashedan!" The Qunari wailed as his sight was momentarily stolen. Fenris switched the broken sword to his right hand, and surged forward. With a defiant cry of fury, he sliced the jagged edge of the weapon across his foe's face with a backhanded swing. The blood sprayed across his own face as the Qunari was knocked to the side. Fenris immediately raised the blade to finish his enemy off, but was startled by a hissing sound to his left. He turned to see a half-seated Qunari mage with a torso peppered with arrows. The dreaded saarebas was whispering something behind the threaded cord that barely allowed room between his lips. Without hesitation, Fenris threw the fragmented sword at the enemy mage with all his might. The broken, now serrated blade spun through the air with an audible whir, then cleaved several inches deep between his foe's brows. With renewed fear of the fallen bodies all around him, Fenris quickly stood up and raced toward the western gates, not even having the presence of mind to rearm himself.
The elf had no intention of slowing his pace once he reached the rainforest west of Seheron, but he soon found that it was a necessity when he tripped for the fourth time on an exposed, but unnoticed root. With a more careful step, he entered the rainforest proper. It wasn't as loud as the capital of Seheron, but it was far from quiet. Birds of all varieties called from the canopy above, as if determined to best the shrill cries of the monkeys who shared their arboreal habitat. Along with those sounds was the ever-present background hum of the forest's abundant invertebrate life, including the mosquitoes that harried him every step of the way.
"Venhedis!" Fenris cursed as he slapped at a sharp buzzing that passed close to his ear. Already his skin itched at several points, but he knew from experience that scratching only made things worse, and invited infection in the moist environment of the jungle. The angle of the ground had shifted slightly up, as well, slowing him down even more. Beyond the cacophony of the forest, a new sound began to grow in prominence. His long elf ears perked up and then he sighed in relief when he recognized the noise as that of running water somewhere in the distance. The thirst that the day's events had kept at bay began to make itself known.
Fenris changed his course slightly to home in on the source of water, though he wasn't completely certain of his direction. Using the sun as a guide wasn't very feasible in the dense foliage, but he knew that as long as he traveled up, he was moving away from the coast of Seheron and the invading forces of Par Vollen. After a few agonizing minutes, the elf pushed past the broad-leafed undergrowth to find a wide, slowly flowing stream.
Movement from above drew Fenris's attention and he watched as a troop of small, grey monkeys jumped and swung from limb to limb overhead as they crossed from one side of the stream to the other. Even here, with several yards of the forest floor free of trees due to the expanse of water, the sun was obscured from view. The trees on both shores reached greedily for every bit of space in the region between them, leaving the thick verdant blanket of the canopy intact.
The tilt of the elf's head caused a drop of sweat to slip from his upper lip into his mouth. The salty drop reminded Fenris sharply of his thirst and he looked back down at the enticing body of water before him. Other than the bits of driftwood that floated lazily with the languid current, the stream looked relatively clean. However, Fenris knew that looks could be deceiving. Tea was the drink of choice on Seheron for reasons beyond taste. Water on the island was best imbibed after being boiled first as a precaution. His thirst warred with this simple fact, known to all the inhabitants of Seheron. Finally common sense won out and Fenris stepped back and away from the water. He knew of some local fruits that held a significant amount of water in their pulp. He would try that first if he could locate some trees. In the meantime, he entered the undergrowth of the forest once more and continued his slow ascent into the green hills of Seheron that buffered the coast from the low mountains of the island's interior.
Fenris came upon a massive, uprooted tree. From the large gap in the canopy, he knew it had fallen recently, otherwise, the surrounding foliage would have greedily stretched for the available sunlight. Through the space above, he could see Seheron's central mountain range off in the distance. Only half of it could be viewed however, as the rest was covered on the windward side with a permanent stretch of fog from the band of low-lying clouds. He narrowed his eyes slightly. There had been rumors of brigands that operated out of the foggiest regions of Seheron, though the infrequent incursions into smaller towns were hardly a concern compared to the Qunari threat, especially since it was said that the bandits also attacked Qunari holdings. Why anyone would live out in the rainforest by choice was beyond him, but Fenris's musings on the subject mostly faded away except for a heightened awareness of his surroundings. There were plenty of dangers in the forest beyond brigands, and the warrior was on alert.
Fenris stepped over one of the fallen branches of the tree and then stood stock-still at a hissing sound below and to the left. He barely turned his head, but his eyes moved to the side to see a beige and black cobra close by his foot. It was a small serpent, but the venom the creature possessed commanded his full attention. The cobra's head was flared out in its instinctual threat display and it swayed slightly as it looked right up into his eyes. The elf didn't dare move, not even to step away. Seconds stretched insufferably long, but when Fenris remained as still as a statue, the cobra finally retracted its hood and lowered its head to the ground. The snake's slithering body quickly disappeared into the undergrowth. Fenris exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, then carded his hands through his snow-white hair. He resolved himself to avoiding fallen branches when possible as he continued through the forest.
The elf's brush with danger had pushed thoughts aside of his thirst for a time, but eventually the need reasserted itself. He continued to scan the forest for anything that could safely quench his thirst. Fenris kept his eye out for starfruit in particular, the juiciest of the local edibles, but so far he had no luck in locating anything of the sort. Thus, he consciously maneuvered through the forest so that he could always hear the sound of the water nearby. Some people were left with only a minor stomach ache from unboiled water. If there were no alternatives, he decided that he would have to try his luck with the stream after all.
The already low light of the forest was now noticeably dimmer. It wasn't quite dusk, but Fenris could tell that it would be soon. He stopped for a moment and took in his immediate surroundings. There was really nothing even remotely resembling a modicum of shelter on the forest floor. But even if he had found something, the elf didn't exactly relish the thought of sleeping on the ground, out in the open. So Fenris looked up. He had always been a still sleeper, hardly moving at all. If worst came to worst, he wagered that he could find a spot among some of the larger branches of a tree and sleep there. Once that was decided, the elf began to walk again.
Fenris didn't consciously move to intersect the stream, though he liked keeping it close. So it came as a bit of surprise when he found himself directly in front of it once more. He thought that perhaps his thirst had directed his steps, but then he noticed the sharp bend in the stream that had likely put it across his current path. With the water so close by again, and his thirst much further along than before, Fenris didn't hesitate to kneel at the shore. The elf licked his lips in anticipation and cupped his hands beneath the surface. Like before, he noticed various bits of driftwood floating nearby, but one in particular caused him to pause, though he wasn't quite sure why. He lifted his water-laden palms for his mouth, when the realization hit him. The closest piece of wood was drifting against the current.
Fenris barely had time to process the information when the surface of the stream erupted in a great spray of water. His cry of fright was drowned out by the roar of a crocodile as the great beast surged onto the shore with jaws open wide. Fenris slipped on the wet ground, but quickly rolled out of the way of the snapping maw. The crocodile rushed at him again, but this time, Fenris was ready. With battle-born instincts, Fenris crouched lowed, then jumped up as the savage reptile charge underneath him. The limber elf twisted in mid-air and landed right on top of the crocodile so that he straddled the beast as if riding a horse. The reptile tried to shake the elf off, but the tattoos of Fenris's right hand blazed as he plunged it into the crocodile's head. The brain of the beast was small, but Fenris knew he had guessed the location correctly by the instant stillness under him. He first sensed, rather than saw, movement around him. He turned around, still on the crocodile's back to see more pieces of supposed driftwood making their way toward him. Fenris growled in frustration, then scrambled off of the dead crocodile and raced into the forest again.
The elf rounded a large tree, then stopped and leaned back against it to catch his breath. No sooner had he done so, when he felt several tiny pricks on his left hand followed by a sharp pain. He immediately lifted his hand to his face, then shouted in horror at the sight of a large, bright orange centipede hanging from it. He shook the massive invertebrate off of his hand with enough force to hurtle it far away, then looked at the already swelling bite wound. His heart began to race as he tried to remember everything he knew of the venomous fauna of Seheron. His panic began to grow as he failed to recall anything specific about centipedes.
Fenris broke out into a cold sweat as he stumbled away from the tree while clutching his left hand. The pain was mostly concentrated in his last two fingers, but it was also spreading up his arm. He blinked and shook his head, then swooned and fell to the ground. He remained on all fours as a sudden shaking overtook his body, but through sheer force of will, he stood up and began to walk forward once more.
The sounds of the forest seemed to grow louder with each step. The buzzing, humming, clicking, and shrieking assaulted his ears. Each noise carried pain that vied with the throbbing in his left hand and arm. Each sound now had an edge of utter malevolence that frightened the disoriented elf to the core. He hadn't even noticed when he had stepped into a wide clearing, but when his eyes focused on the scene before him, he froze.
Two leopards were in the act of mating, with a spotted female being mounted by a male with fur so dark that the usual faint rosettes that could be seen on a black leopard were completely masked. Both felines loomed quite large in his eyes and Fenris gasped before he could stifle himself. Two pairs of topaz eyes instantly locked onto him. The large cats snarled as the male pulled away from the female, and both slowly approached him with fangs bared. This time, all of Fenris's instincts screamed at him to run rather than fight. However, his shivering of pain from the centipede venom only increased and his legs refused to move. A sudden sound brought the cats' approach to a halt. It sounded like metal striking stone, once, then again. Both predators looked up above Fenris. The elf kept his wide eyes squarely on the felines until his sight was partially blocked by a figure who fell from above to land between Fenris and the two growling beasts. The stranger held a burning torch in hand and waved it threateningly at the leopards. Both cats balked at the flame, but continued to snarl.
"Not this one, Midnight! Take your mate of the day and find other prey!" A tenor voice commanded. From the slight build of the body, Fenris guessed the man was either an elf or a young human. Fenris felt his legs give out completely and he slumped to the forest floor as the other man stood his ground. Fenris rolled onto his back and he could no longer see the leopards. However, he no longer cared, as the pain in his arm forced away all other concerns. A face soon moved into sight above him. The other elf was a blond with dark blue eyes. They stared at each other, until the blue eyes glanced down at Fenris's slave collar.
"I'm Braith. Don't worry, the leopards are gone," he assured Fenris. He then smirked and added, "now don't be rude. What's your name?"
"Centi..." Fenris replied with difficulty as his body was taken with another bout of shaking. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton as he tried to speak.
"Centi? Well, that's an odd name, but-"
"Centipede..." Fenris interrupted with a gasp. His strength was fading fast, but he managed to lift his left arm slightly off the ground. Braith noticed the movement and reached down to grasp Fenris's arm with both hands. Though his touch was gentle, the prone elf hissed in pain as Braith looked the arm over. The deep blue eyes grew wide when they noticed the discolored bite mark.
Braith set Fenris's hand down, then quickly stood up. The blond elf took a deep breath, then placed his thumb and forefinger at his lips. A shrill whistle issued forth that Fenris would have sworn was from a bird had he not witnessed the other elf in the act. Braith whistled again, this time in a staccato rhythm. Soon a matching bird song called back from far away to Fenris's right, overlapping with another from his left. A third song reached his ears, and then a fourth, both from entirely different cardinal points. Braith repeated the call, and again the four birdsongs replied, this time slightly louder and perhaps closer. As he faded from consciousness, Fenris imagined a flock of multicolored, tropical songbirds converging on his location.
"What do you think the tattoos mean, Arvel?" Fenris heard someone ask with a rich baritone voice directly above him just as he woke up. His breath almost caught, but he forced himself to inhale and exhale calmly. On instinct, he feigned sleep and listened closely.
"I have an idea, Enric, though I've never seen these designs on a body before," another voice answered close by, though this one was slightly hoarse as if the speaker was on the verge of having a cold or on the mend from one.
"But you've seen them on something else?" The voice Fenris recognized as Braith asked from further away.
"On a few weapons, yes. Very ancient and of elven make. My former master had a collection passed down through his family, said to be from the very halls of Arlathan's royal palace. I recall patterns similar to these etched into only two weapons out of the multitude that had been plundered from our ancestors. The color is remarkably similar, as well."
"Do you think his tattoos are made from the same material?" Braith wondered aloud, eliciting a raspy chuckle from Arvel.
"No, no. They look similar, but they cannot be the same. The weapons were engraved with lyrium. To do so on a living being would be unthinkable. Molten lyrium would sear the flesh. With the sheer amount of these tattoos covering every bit of his body, the pain would have been unimaginable and the survival of the recipient highly doubtful. No, these tattoos are surely some artistic rendering with metallic dye by some magister who was inspired by weapons of old," Arvel explained.
"Regardless of what they're made of, they're beautiful..." Braith mused. Fenris suddenly felt a finger gently running up the length of a lyrium brand on his left arm. His eyes immediately snapped open and he snatched the offending hand with his right. There were several gasps of surprise, but Fenris's attention was focused solely on Braith. The blond elf did not resist as his hand was forced away from the tattoo.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Braith exclaimed with sheepish expression. Fenris's eyes only narrowed in response.
"Only my master, or those he has given leave to, may touch me," Fenris growled. At the mention of his master, the other elf's expression instantly soured.
"There are no masters here," Braith stated angrily and tried to pull his wrist away, but Fenris's steely grip only tightened.
"You're still ill from the centipede's venom. Don't waste your strength on idiots who can't keep their hands to themselves," a pleasant, deep voice urged. Kind green eyes set beneath a mass of wavy dark-brown hair moved into Fenris's field of vision next to Braith. Fenris's gaze shifted slightly to take in the sight of the second elf whose name he had matched to a voice first. Enric. The brunet had broad shoulders and a solid frame that looked almost human. So taken was Fenris by the second elf's physical presence that his grip loosened just enough for Braith to wrench his arm from Fenris's grasp.
Fenris grunted and struggled to sit up. The brunet elf at his side instantly helped him by offering his arm for support. Fenris stared at it for a moment, before swallowing his pride. It was a bit of a struggle, as he wasn't in a bed with a proper headboard, but rather a rickety cot covered with thin cloth. Fenris finally managed to sit upright with Enric's help, and crossed his legs so that his knees rested over both sides of the thin cot's frame. To his right, opposite Braith and Enric, stood an older, slightly stooped elf with black hair streaked with copious strands of grey. All three of the strange elves wore threadbare, long-sleeved tunics and ragged breeches of mottled green that only the poorest of magisters would let his or her slaves be seen in. On Danarius's estate, even slaves meant for blood sacrifice wore better garments. He felt a pang of sadness as he thought of his master. Instead of the rich, palatial estate he was accustomed to, he found himself off to one side of a shabby tent that was lit by three burning torches set into the ground at the very center. He could smell the smoke faintly, but unlike the rich, complex aromas of sandalwood and imported hickory, the torches gave off the scent of peat and pitch. Thankfully, most of the smoke left the tent through the large, open flap at the top.
"You're welcome for saving your life," Braith huffed as he rubbed at his sore wrist.
"Thank you," Fenris said without emotion. He knew that by all rights, he should feel far more grateful, but there was something intensely grating about the short blond elf.
"You sincerity humbles me," Braith said with an intensely sarcastic sneer as he crossed his arms at his chest.
"Braith..." Enric chided softly. The blond narrowed his eyes at the brunet.
"So you're taking a stranger's side over your lover's?" Braith scowled. Fenris's eyes involuntarily glanced from Enric to Braith, then back to Enric.
"Braith..." Enric repeated with a shake of his head.
"Bah!" Braith snapped and turned on his heels. "Have fun treating this one!" The short blond added over his shoulder as he stormed out of the tent.
"Don't mind Braith. He has a quick temper," Enric remarked with a sigh.
"Our patient must be thirsty. Give him some water." Arvel changed the subject. The younger elf followed his elder's instructions immediately and turned away for a moment. Fenris soon found a waterskin held in front of him. The snow-haired elf tried to take hold of it with both hands, but found he was unable to grip anything with his left due to the layers of gauze wrapped around it. Before he could ask, Enric pulled the stopper from the waterskin and motioned for him to drink.
"Has this been boiled first?" Fenris asked with a suspicious look at the waterskin that felt quite cool in his right hand.
"What do you take me for? I'm not an idiot. Of course it was boiled," Enric chided him. Fenris took a test sip, but as soon as the cool water covered his tongue, his thirst surged to life. He threw caution to the wind and emptied the waterskin in mere seconds. He took a deep breath as Enric took the waterskin from him and handed him another that was half-full. The brunet added, "tea tastes bitter if it sits in a waterskin for too long and everything tends to cool off quickly here in the fog forest..."
Fenris dropped the second waterskin at the mention of fog. "You're Fog Warriors!" He gasped.
"That we are, though from the look you're giving us, I'm thinking that's not such a good thing as far as you're concerned," Arvel rasped with a sly smile.
"I have no money," Fenris replied angrily as Enric took hold of the fallen waterskin and put it away, out of Fenris's sight.
"Yes... I'm sure Braith just loved facing down two leopards enraged at the interruption of their mating session... all for a bit of coin!" The brunet joked at his left while Arvel cackled on his right.
"Then why did he save me?" Fenris asked with a blush.
"Because you're a slave," Enric scratched and pointed at his own neck, exactly where a collar would have been. "Or rather, you were a slave."
"I am still a slave," Fenris stated flatly.
"No, my boy. Though Braith is right a lot less than he imagines, he certainly was when he said there are no masters here. No masters and no slaves," Arvel said with a smile.
"You don't steal from innocents?" Fenris asked with an edge to his voice.
"Oh we steal!" Arvel chuckled. "But our victims are hardly innocent."
"Thieves always have excuses," Fenris snapped.
"Okay... I know you've recently been through quite an ordeal traveling through the forest completely alone," Enric took a quick breath, "and I'm loathe to agree with Braith when he's in one of his moods... but really, you could stand to be a little more grateful right now."
"I'm sorry," Fenris said sincerely and lowered eyes.
"Apology accepted," Enric said with a quick glance at Arvel.
"Am I your prisoner then?"
"No!" Enric and Arvel both guffawed.
"Then I can go right now then," Fenris said as he quickly uncrossed his legs and stood up. He instantly regretted his decision as his head burst into pain and he stumbled to the ground. He saw the forest floor rush at his face, but was stopped a few inches from impact by Enric's speedy intervention.
"Be thankful Enric is assisting me tonight. Had it been Braith, your face would have been well-acquainted with the ground," Arvel chortled, then motioned to the brunet with a tilt of his head. Enric obeyed instantly and helped Fenris back into the cot, though he lay back down instead of sitting. Arvel and Enric were silent as Fenris moaned in pain for a bit. When he quieted down to just intermittent whimpers, Enric cleared his throat.
"We're rebels and value freedom above all else. You're free to go, but please let us help you before you go rushing off into the wilderness again. The venom still hasn't run its full course," the brunet elf explained.
"And how long will I be cursed by the centipede's bite?" Fenris asked with a deep frown. Enric shrugged and looked to Arvel, who continued to hold his hands behind his back.
"Feel the temperature from his forehead, then check his pulse," the older elf instructed. Enric rolled up the sleeves of his tunic to do as he was bid, but Fenris moved his head out of the way.
"You bark orders at him while you stand there just as close to me! 'Take his temperature, check his pulse, give him water,' whatever you tell him to do, he snaps to attention and follows your bidding without question! Say what you will, but there are indeed masters here!" Fenris sneered. Arvel raised a brow, while Enric pulled away from Fenris and gave the older elf standing on the other side of the cot a nervous, saddened look.
"We have not been properly introduced, though no doubt you've heard my name while you were supposedly sleeping. I am Arvel. And your name?"
"Fenris," the injured warrior replied coldly.
"Well, Fenris. Enric here helps me because my former master made it difficult for me to do such things on my own," Arvel stated with an edge to his hoarse voice. He took his arms from behind his back and held them up, with elbows bent. Where his hands should have been, only scarred stumps of flesh remained. "While I've learned to use my feet for many things," Arvel continued, "hands are easier to keep clean for handling patients." Fenris's eyes widened at the sight and he opened his mouth before he could stop himself.
"What happened?"
"My master found me pleasuring myself one night. He told me that my hands were for his pleasure alone. He was already drunk and this put him in a rage. He burned my hands off to teach me a lesson," Arvel answered without emotion.
"How... how can you speak of such things to strangers?" Fenris gasped, scandalized by the open discussion of masturbation, as well as the horror at the punishment for it.
"A wise woman taught me long ago that the shame of such torture rests with the perpetrators, not their victims," Arvel stated.
"That's just common sense, though since most of you men lack it, I suppose I do seem like a woman wise beyond her years," a short human female in similarly disheveled clothing stated as she threw the entrance flap of the tent aside and entered. She was a bit on the scrawny side, with red hair and freckles. A long black dagger was suspended from her belt. Fenris had seen blackened steel before, but the way light played across the surface of the blade told him that it was forged from some other metal.
"How much did you hear, Senna?" Arvel asked with a sigh.
"Enough to know that you have a particularly difficult patient in this one," she answered with a withering look at Fenris. The elf in question averted his eyes.
"And what brings you here, other than eavesdropping outside of the tent?"
"Is that any way to greet your wife?" Senna smirked before leaning in to kiss her husband just as Fenris swung a surprised look their way. The elf and human were not slave and master, but husband and wife? Senna raised a brow at the look Fenris was giving her, then kissed Arvel again for good measure before turning to Enric.
"Enric, I need to talk to you about the next hog hunt. A new sounder of wild pigs has moved into the area, and there's a large farrow of piglets with them."
"You make it sound like there's bad news to go along with this otherwise pleasant surprise," Enric replied with pursed lips.
"There is," she sighed and scratched her head . "They moved right into the heart of Midnight's territory from the looks of it. We'll have to be extra careful. Especially since I've been told he isn't too pleased with a certain scout interrupting his amorous activities."
"Braith wasn't the one who interrupted him. That honor goes to our difficult patient," Enric chuckled and motioned with his thumb to Fenris.
"Still, I heard Braith was the one who chased him off with a torch. Midnight isn't a very forgiving cat. Knowing he'll be close by will complicate our plans."
"Please dear, don't bore us with all the details of the coming hunt! My patient, as ornery as he is, deserves some peace," Arvel protested, his arms once again hidden behind his back.
"My thoughts exactly. I'd like to take a walk with Enric if you can manage without him."
"Of course." Arvel gave his wife a quick nod.
"Shall I call Braith to take his place?"
"No!" Arvel, Enric, and Fenris all answered as one, causing Senna to regard them all with a curious look.
"Will you be okay in here alone with him, though?" She gave Fenris a suspicious look.
"Enric, can you check his temperature and pulse?" Arvel reminded the brunet elf of his earlier request. The taller elf nodded quickly and did as he was told. This time Fenris remained still and didn't say a word. Enric placed the back of one hand against his forehead and felt Fenris's wrist with the other. "He's still running a slight fever and his pulse is rather weak."
"Hmmm, the venom will take more than a full night's rest to dissipate, so I'll be safe in his presence. Besides, his earlier attempt to walk away was less than a rousing success," Arvel smirked.
"Well, I've never doubted your skills as a healer. Though, as a singer-"
"Get out, Senna!" Arvel commanded, though his face held a smile that was mirrored by his wife. She winked and then pulled Enric with her out of the tent.
"I'm sorry... about what I said. Your hands... I had no idea," Fenris offered with a truly apologetic look.
"Don't worry. I probably shouldn't hide my arms so much, but it's become a bit of a habit. Like I said, I have no shame of them or how they were created. But... the sight of them does make some people uncomfortable," Arvel said with a slight shrug.
"Then that is their problem, not yours," Fenris said with a sudden intensity. Arvel studied the other elf's face for a moment as Fenris continued to speak. "The pain and loss... you've handled it far better than I could ever imagine. You have my respect, Arvel. You don't have to hide your arms from me."
"Well, thank you Fenris. I appreciate that," he said as he moved his arms back into view. Fenris forced himself not to stare, though he was painfully aware of the stumps in his peripheral vision.
"So... you're a singer?" Fenris asked, grasping at the first change of subject that came to mind.
"I am, and a good one at that, despite my wife's assessment," Arvel answered with his raspy tone. Fenris found the statement somewhat dubious given the quality of the other elf's speaking voice, but he was curious nonetheless.
"Can you sing something for me?"
"Certainly. What would like?"
"You choice," Fenris answered with a shrug. Arvel nodded.
"Do you know Elvish?"
"No."
"Oh well, that doesn't matter. The emotions matter more than the words. This is 'Anaralaa Balorei.' It translates into the 'Lost Heirs.'"
"That... rings a bell, actually," Fenris whispered as a sudden memory flickered in his mind. The strange words in his mind matched the ones Arvel began to sing, though the recollection soon faded away. The hoarseness of the older elf's voice faded somewhat as he sang, though it remained clearly discernible. However, it added a rich, husky tone to the melody in a way that Fenris had not expected, but rather liked.
Arvel had also been right about the emotions of the song. Though he could not understand the words, Fenris easily followed the meandering flow of sadness that shifted into sudden peaks of elation. He imagined the pain of losing something dear and the intense joy of it being found once more. The song then softened in intensity. It now conveyed a feeling of peace and comfort that all was truly well, despite a troubling past. The melody washed over him, and before Fenris knew it, he had been lulled back to sleep.
"No more!" Fenris screamed as he awoke in a cold sweat. He could still see the glint of the hollow needle that held the molten lyrium. The scent of his burning flesh still filled his nostrils. And the pain... echoes of it seemed to travel through every inch of his body. He rubbed at his arms and wished that he could rip his own skin away if it meant being rid of the sensation.
The nightmare had felt so real, the images so clear in his mind that it took him a moment to realize he was not in Danarius's dungeon receiving his brands for the first time. The sight of the simple tent's interior and the two shocked elves before him warred with the horrific recollection.
Fenris immediately sat up in the cot and tried to calm his breath while Enric and Arvel continued to stare at him. Both seemed about to say something, when Senna, Braith, and three other Fog Warriors rushed into the tent with weapons drawn. One of them was a large human man, a Rivaini from the looks of it, who carried a massive battleaxe.
"What is going on?" Senna demanded with her black dagger pointed at Fenris.
"He was in the midst of a nightmare," Arvel replied calmly.
"He..." Enric began to add, but Arvel gave him a sharp look and a subtle shake of his head that only the tall brunet and Fenris noticed. "He had a nightmare," Enric amended, though Fenris wondered what the other elf had almost said.
"He woke up half the forest! You should have seen all the birds that took flight when that commotion started!" Senna groused.
"I hope no Qunari or Tevinter patrols heard him," Braith added with a sneer. There was a murmur of assent from the unfamiliar Fog Warriors flanking him.
"There will not be any Tevinter patrols. At least not for a while," Fenris murmured.
"And how do you know that?" Braith scoffed.
"I was at the battle of Seheron. The Qunari were victorious and the capital of the island was evacuated," Fenris answered.
"I know for a fact that there are still Tevinter holdings on the western coast," Senna argued.
"Though the Imperium still holds a few forts and outposts, for all intents and purposes, with the capital fallen, the Qunari have wrested control of Seheron from Tevinter."
"Well, I still say that-" Braith began.
"Enough. All of you out! My patient had a nightmare, nothing more. This is not the place to discuss the machinations of our enemies to the east or south," Arvel ordered with a wave of his arm stubs. Of the five visitors, all but Senna blushed at the sight of the maimed limbs before quickly exiting the tent. There were murmurs outside from other Fog Warriors who had approached, but Senna assured them loudly that all was well, though the doubt in her voice was clearly evident.
"Sorry, I... I didn't mean to startle anyone," Fenris apologized.
"You glowed," Enric whispered. Fenris looked away in silence. "What are those tattoos?" The brunet elf asked.
"A mistake," Fenris answered flatly as his eyes met Enric's.
"You should still be ill," Arvel remarked as his eyes traveled the length of Fenris's body before he turned to Enric. "You know the drill," he motioned with his head. Enric hesitated and gave both the healer and the patient nervous looks.
"May... may I touch you?" Enric asked as he approached Fenris carefully and with palms held up. Fenris didn't say a word, but nodded. Enric's fingers were shaking slightly as he felt Fenris's forehead and wrist. He let go, quickly backed away, then turned to Arvel with a look that was equal parts fear and awe.
"The fever is completely gone and his pulse is strong!" Enric said with an air of disbelief.
"As I suspected." Arvel pursed his lips. "Tell me Fenris. Those tattoos of yours. Those are lyrium aren't they?"
"Yes," Fenris answered with a sudden surge of shame, the source of which he had no clue.
"But Arvel! You said last night that no one could have survived such pain!" Enric protested as he turned wide eyes from Fenris to the healer.
"Actually, I said that survival was highly doubtful," Arvel gently corrected the brunet elf before turning his eyes back to his patient. He shook his head. "Fenris. My dear Fenris. We spoke last night of these," Arvel held up his arm stubs. "I'd wager that you experienced pain as great, if not greater."
"I'd rather not wager at all and settle it as a draw," Fenris replied with a sullen frown, though the remark made Arvel smile just a tad.
"Still, it seems this 'mistake' has proven to be boon of a sorts," Arvel ventured. "You recovered from a venomous wound that would have killed some and left others certainly weak for days."
"The cuts on his face and neck. I tended to them earlier, but they're far better than they should be," Enric added, forcing Fenris to recall his battle with the Qunari warrior with the warhammer who had shattered his sword and showered him with its shards.
"Well Fenris, it seems the bulk of our work is done, then. Though brief, it has been a pleasure knowing you," Arvel said with a bow. Before he even stood back up, he elbowed Enric, who quickly bowed along with him. Fenris just stared at them, unsure of what to do or say.
"Thank you... for everything. I would have died out there. If not from the leopards, then from the centipede bite," Fenris finally uttered.
"You're welcome," Arvel and Enric replied in unison.
"We'll pack a few provisions, including two full waterskins and a dozen strips of smoked pork," Arvel added. "It isn't much, but if you ration wisely, you'll be able to reach the coast. As much as I do not like them, the Qunari have been known to take pity on slaves. You still have a collar, which may swing opinion even further in your favor."
"I..." Fenris broke out once more into a cold sweat at the mention of the Qunari.
"Yes?" Arvel raised a brow at his patient's sudden hesitation.
"I..." Fenris gulped, then remembered his master's parting words. Remain hidden from the Qunari and I will return for you one day...
"Come now Fenris, your tongue was not injured as far as I could tell. Speak your mind," Arvel urged with a knowing smirk.
"I want to stay," Fenris finally said with a gasp just as the tent's entrance flap swung open.
"Please tell me I misheard that!" Braith whined as he avoided the instant glare from Fenris and looked only at Arvel and Braith.
"Braith..." Enric warned, though the blond elf shrugged, then pinched the taller elf's bottom with no attempt to hide the gesture from Fenris or Arvel. "Braith!" Enric shouted and swatted the hand away.
"Can you two please save that for your tent?" Arvel sighed.
"Senna pinches your bottom in public far more than I pinch Enric's!" Braith chuckled. "Ouch!" He cried out as Enric smacked him loudly on the shoulder.
"We were in the middle of something," Arvel nodded to Fenris.
"Oh. Right. Wonderful." Braith said dryly as he looked back to Fenris. "Enric told me you wanted to leave last night."
"Am I not allowed to change my mind?" Fenris shot back.
"Well, onto more important matters," Braith said with a roll of his eyes. "Senna wanted me to fetch Enric. She wants to go over the plans for today's hunt again."
"I've hunted boar before. I can help," Fenris piped up, eager to challenge Braith's dismissive attitude.
"We're not hunting the boars," the blond elf scoffed.
"But-"
"We're hunting the piglets," Braith cut Fenris off.
"What? But the boars have better meat-"
"And they're harder to kill, and require the shedding of far too much blood to take down. Blood that leaves a trail for predators or patrols to follow back to camp," Enric explained gently before Braith had time to add a snide comment in.
"The hunters scatter the more dangerous sows and bludgeon the piglets. They're easy to carry in sacks and there's very little blood," Arvel added dispassionately.
"That's rather... ruthless," Fenris said with a look of surprise at the three elves. They all shrugged.
"And very practical," Arvel remarked. Braith was about to add something more, but he was caught off-guard by a sudden swat to the stomach.
"Would you really like to help?" Enric asked after turning from Braith to regard Fenris with a smile.
"It's the least I can do," Fenris replied.
"Wait, shouldn't he still be too ill to walk around, much less hunt?" Braith asked with a suspicious look at the white-haired elf.
"He had a rather quick recovery," Arvel answered plainly.
"More likely he confused a caterpillar for a centipede," Braith said with a snort.
"A few angry hogs can't be all that frightening after facing down an army of hornheads," Enric said, ignoring Braith. "Plus, it's the breeding season, so the sounder might have a few adult males along with the sows. If the thought of charging tuskers doesn't loosen your bladder, we could use your help in getting their attention," Enric elaborated with a chuckle.
"Then I'm your man," Fenris replied resolutely.
"I'm his man," Braith growled possessively as he wrapped an arm around Enric's waist.
"Cut it out," Enric warned with an exasperated huff and stepped out of the embrace.
"Braith, come help me put some things away," Arvel asked gruffly.
"But Senna wanted me to get Enric!" The blond elf protested.
"And Enric is on the way. With Fenris. I think we can both agree that he'll do a better job of introducing our newest Fog Warrior to the rest," Arvel replied with a sharp look.
"You're already calling him a Fog Warrior?" Braith growled. "We haven't even removed his collar!"
"Shut up Braith and make yourself useful," Arvel snapped. The blond elf said something under his breath, but otherwise did as he was told.
"Is there anything you'd like me to pass along to your wife?" Enric asked as he and Fenris prepared to exit the tent.
"Just let her know that I will be there to share the pre-hunt meal," Arvel answered as he began to push the cot to the side of the tent with one foot while Braith bundled a few stray vials into a wicker basket.
"Will do," Enric said over his shoulder. He then stopped, and looked over at Fenris, who wore nothing other than a pair of breeches. Arvel noticed the look and nodded.
"There are some extra tunics in the far basket," the healer said to Braith. The blond elf narrowed his eyes, then turned away and stalked toward the container. He open the basket, pulled out a green, long sleeve tunic, bunched it up into a tight ball, then threw it at Fenris.
"You're welcome," Braith muttered when Fenris pulled the tunic on without a word. With that done, Enric motioned the former patient forward, and together they left the confines of the tent.
Fenris had wondered silently why all the men wore long sleeve tunics in the steamy jungle, but as soon as he had stepped outside, he realized why. The forest surroundng the tent was blanketed by a thick, cold mist. He shivered involuntarily and rubbed his arms. He had not thought of it earlier, but he now realized that all of the warmth he had felt in the tent had been from the torches, not the ambient heat of the rainforest.
"But rainforests are never this cold!" Fenris marveled.
"Indeed. We're in a fog forest," Braith said with a smile. "Well, cloud forest would be the proper term, but it's all the same really."
As Enric guided him forward, Fenris started to notice other tents scattered about, though none were anywhere near as large as the one he had been in. The size seemed best suited for one person, or perhaps two if the invididuals were very well-acquainted. Details that were first obscured by the mist became discernible as he passed the tents by. They all had a very makeshift appearance, with strips of various types of leather and fabric all sewn together in a great mishmash, with repurposed fallen branches as support. Anything that wasn't a natural shade of brown had been been dyed various shades of green.
Fenris looked up at the fog-covered canopy. It was clearly daytime, but the sun's position was a mystery from the combination of foliage and mist. However, there was one detail that caused him to pause.
"The band of clouds we're in..."
"Yes?" Enric asked and slowed down as Fenris looked around.
"I remember seeing it from the forest closer to the coast. It was on the mountainside, yet the ground here is flat," Fenris remarked curiously.
"You'll find that Seheron's mountains are dotted with many plateaus like this," Enric stopped walking and waved his hands around. "This one isn't very large compared to some, but it's one of the flattest and has consistent fog cover from day to night. Even the smoke from a large bonfire would blend in completely with the fog and clouds that extend from here all the way up the mountain. Plus, this location is close to Lel'Ashelenorei."
"What is that?" Fenris asked.
"Oh. Well, the literal translation from Elvish is 'Second Home,' but a closer interpretation would be 'Sanctuary.' It's where we go if patrols get too close to camp." Enric explained.
"Then why not live at Sanctuary at all times?" Fenris asked bluntly.
"That's..." Enric mulled over his thoughts for a moment. "That's something better explained by Arvel," he managed with a shrug. "Now let's not keep Senna waiting!" He urged and began to walk forward once more. Fenris quickly followed and soon saw the dim light from a small fire, around which stood about a dozen Fog Warriors in a semi-circle. Most were elven men, but along with Senna, there were two elven woman, and the Rivaini man he had seen earlier with the battleaxe. Arvel's redheaded wife had a thin stick in hand which was pointed at the ground.
"Where's Braith?" Senna asked with a quick glance at Fenris before her gaze settled on Enric.
"He's helping Arvel clean the healing tent."
"And what is he doing here?" Senna motioned to Enric's white-haired companion. "Shouldn't he be resting still?"
"He recovered faster than Arvel originally expected," Enric answered vaguely.
"Probably bitten by a young centipede. All the pain, half the venom," the Rivaini man remarked with a nod in Fenris's direction. "Those creatures are brightly colored for a reason. You got lucky this time, but keep an eye out in the future."
"I intend to," Fenris nodded back to the man.
"Regardless, he's feeling much better now and wants to help with the hunt," Enric interjected, then added, "Arvel thought he would be a good addition." He punctuated his sentence with a look that clearly said "be nice." Senna was undeterred.
"Sure, he can help, but he isn't getting a weapon until he's earned our trust," she stated flatly to a few murmurs of assent around the fire.
"Arvel's word is gold in my opinion," the Rivaini said with a shrug. He stepped forward and extended his hand to Fenris. The elf hesitated from surprise, then collected himself and shook the hand. "I'm Hector," he introduced himself.
"Fenris."
"Well Fenris, I hope your skills on the battlefield translate well on a hunt, even without a weapon," Hector remarked with a smirk. When he stepped aside, other Fog Warriors followed the man's lead and made their own introductions with varying degrees of warmth. There were too many names for Fenris to remember them all, but a few stuck. The elf with jet-black hair and amber eyes, a rarity among their kind, was named Gethin. Another elf, Madoc, was even shorter than Braith, with brown hair and blue eyes. The elven women, both with chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes, were the sisters Cerys and Bryn.
"You already know my name," Senna waved dismissively. "Now, back to business," she said as she tapped the stick in her hand onto the ground. Upon closer inspection, Fenris saw a rough sketches, with lines and arrows that looked quite similar to battle plans.
"Because we'll be operating in the heart of Midnight's territory, we're changing the usual spread," Hector mentioned.
"Exactly." Senna nodded emphatically. "All hunters except for the longscouts will be paired up and stay next to each other at all times. Try not use this as an excuse for a romantic interlude," she added with a sharp look at Madoc and Gethin, who both blushed.
"Shouldn't the longscouts be paired up, as well?" Enric asked. Senna shook her head.
"Midnight will have already moved close to the sounder, and the longscouts will be the furthest away from the pigs," she explained. Enric nodded. Senna took a breath and was about to continue, when Enric quickly spoke up again.
"I'll be Fenris's partner!"
"Huh?" Fenris blurted out in surprise and turned to look at the muscular elf. "What of Braith?"
"Pshaw, he's a longscout." Enric dismissed the question with a wave of his hand. "He's light and quick. I would only slow him down."
"He looks like a shortscout to me," Fenris remarked dryly. Enric blinked at him in confusion for a second, before a hearty chuckle bubbled up from his wide chest.
"Long and short as in distance... but you already knew that. Be glad Braith wasn't here to hear your little joke," Enric grinned and winked at him. Senna cleared her throat to get their attention, then focused once more on the drawings scratched into the earth at her feet.
"We'll approach the sounder downwind then spread out in an arc..." she explained as Fenris paid close attention. Despite all of the etchings on the ground, it was a relatively simple plan, with the rebels split into four groups: longscouts, shortscouts, callers, and bludgeoners. Four in number, the longscouts were responsible for taking positions at the cardinal points half a league away from the foraging sounder of pigs. They would keep a close watch at the borders of the hunt and make sure that no hostile patrols could take advantage of the Fog Warriors who were focused on the hunt. The shortscouts would be much closer to the sounder and were charged with the task of helping the callers and blugdeoners find positions opposite each other, parallel to the general direction of the wind. It was then up to the callers to shout and clap at the wild pigs, hopefully drawing the adults toward them in anger, while simultaneously driving the piglets toward the bludgeoners in fear.
"Who's hungry?" Gethin piped up at the end of Senna's long-winded plan. Everyone around the campfire raised their hands except for the redhead and the newest Fog Warrior. And then Fenris's stomach rumbled loud enough for all to hear. He scowled as several of the rebels chuckled. Enric was mercifully silent, but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Fenris slowly raised his hand.
"Well that settles it," Gethin said with laughter in his voice as he excused himself from the gathering and walked off into the fog. From the opposite direction two men stepped into view through the shifting mist.
"Almost done?" Arvel asked as he walked toward the campfire with Braith at his side.
"What did I miss?" The younger elf asked.
"Yes, all done," Senna smirked at her husband, then looked over at Braith. "You're on longscout duty, as usual. Just take the southern point and keep watch."
"And what about him?" Braith motioned with his thumb to Fenris.
"I have a name," Fenris muttered.
"He's going to be a caller, along with me," Enric interjected.
"Partners, even," Bryn murmured, then shared a smile with her sister. Enric gave them both an irritated look.
"What?" Braith turned to his lover.
"Senna said that he needed a partner, and I offered. Other than Arvel, he knows me the best, so it made sense," Enric explained.
"Mmmhmm," Braith murmured with a raised brow. He then surprised the taller elf with a quick kiss on the lips and a slap on the bottom. "I'm heading out now then. I've got trail rations, so I'll be fine without the pre-hunt meal. Stay safe, Enric."
"And you, Braith," Enric replied with a bright smile. The shorter elf waved to the rest of the Fog Warriors, then disappeared into the mist.
"What constitutes a pre-hunt meal?" Fenris asked Enric. The dark-haired elf motioned with his head to Gethin, who had reappeared with a large wooden tray balanced at shoulder level with one hand. In the other, he carried a small wooden stool. With an impressive flourish, he set the stool down and the tray on top. Piled on the tray was a wide array of fruits, berries, and nuts, some of which Fenris had never seen before. Enric saw the look on Fenris's face.
"Don't worry, they're all edible. Tuck in," the dark-haired elf said with a smile as he reached to the tray and grabbed a handful of fuzzy berries and a slice of starfruit. Other hands quickly grabbed for their share of the light meal, but Fenris remained still.
"Fenris, go ahead before our own wild pigs Madoc and Gethin eat your share!" Hector urged with a chuckle.
"Don't you dare throw food, Madoc!" Senna warned just as the elf in question had reared his hand back. "Throw anything else at Hector, but do not waste food," she growled.
"Sorry Senna," the elf said sheepishly, then quickly ate the piece of fruit meant for Hector's face.
"Seriously though, Fenris, eat something," Enric insisted as he held out a piece of starfruit.
"I can't, not yet," the white-haired elf answered with an odd edge to his voice. He was hungrily looking at the food, but he made no move for the tray. The rest of the rebels had fallen into private conversations, leaving only Enric's scrutiny on him.
"Why not? We all heard your belly. You're hungry Fenris. How long has it been since you last ate?"
"I cannot eat... not until all have finished," Fenris whispered with a longing look at meal spread.
"Fenris..." Enric sighed with understanding. "You are not a slave anymore. You can eat as you wish, when you wish... well, when food is available of course."
"It is forbidden," Fenris whispered with a shake of his head. He clenched his jaw and wrenched his eyes away from the food. "I will eat when all are done," he muttered with finality.
"Have it your way," Enric said with a shrug, in no mood to further argue with the recalcitrant elf. Minutes passed as hands continued to reach for the tray. Each time Fenris thought all the Fog Warriors were done, another would grab for more. The hungry elf watched as the edibles began to dwindle further and further until there was only a single, tiny piece of jackfruit remaining. Still, Fenris waited until all the Fog Warriors except Enric had gone their separate ways to gather materials and weapons for the hunt.
"Are you done?" Fenris growled at Enric who was looking at him with an infuriating air of innocence.
"Yes," Enric answered, his expression unchanging.
"You could have said something. Told them to finish and go instead of lingering so. Something so that I wouldn't only have one piece of fruit to fill my stomach," Fenris muttered as he finally snatched the last bit of food from the tray.
"Well, I didn't want to bring any attention to your predicament. And it would've spoiled this surprise," Enric grinned and reached into pockets that Fenris had not even noticed, since his focus had been solely on the tray for so long. "I saved these for you," the dark-haired added as he began to pile a portion equal to what he had eaten back onto the tray.
"I'm... sorry, I..." Fenris began.
"No apologies necessary. Just don't be mad at me," Enric beamed. Fenris studied the other elf's face and smiled ever so slightly back. He then turned to the tray and began to eat with gusto.
Enric and Fenris walked slowly and carefully through the underbrush of the forest. He was in his armor again after arguing that if he wasn't allowed a weapon, then this was the least they could permit for him. The Fog Warriors quickly relented, eager as they were to begin the hunt. Now, as the rebels closed in on their prey, he had proven as a silent a hunter as Enric, regardless of his garb.
A sudden birdsong ahead of them stopped both men in their tracks. Enric involuntarily placed a hand on Fenris's arm, then quickly removed it.
"Sorry," Enric mouthed. The tattooed elf said nothing, but when Enric looked away, Fenris lightly rubbed his thumb over the same spot Enric's hand had been.
The birdsong whistled through the trees again. Enric leaned over and whispered, so close that his breath tickled Fenris's throat.
"Bryn and Cerys are in position with the clubs."
"You could tell all that from the whistling?" Fenris whispered skeptically.
"Yes. It's not as hard as it seems. You'll learn," Enric said with a wink.
"I can't even hear the pigs, let alone see them," Fenris whispered harshly with a shake of his head.
"Good. The same goes for them hearing or seeing us. That's what our shortscouts are for. Gethin and Madoc are close to the sounder, possibly in the trees above them."
"If you say so," Fenris murmured. He wasn't so sure, but he tensed his muscles all the same. He watched as Enric placed a forefinger and thumb at his lips and returned with his own birdcall. Another one came in quick reply.
"See that tree? The one with the lowest branches." Enric pointed. Fenris followed his gaze. At first he couldn't see it, but then he noticed one with branches noticeably lower than the rest, quite a distance away. He nodded. "We go for that tree as we make our commotion," Enric instructed. Fenris nodded again in silence. "Okay, get ready..."
A piercing scream filled the air as a great rustling came from ahead, like something, or someone, falling from a tree. The forest erupted into squeals, followed by a feline roar.
"It's Midnight!" Cerys shouted in the distance.
"Damnit!" Enric growled and drew his shortsword. Both men raced toward the screaming, squealing, roaring cacophany ahead of them. Fenris and Enric nearly ran into a trio of juvenile tuskers who came crashing through the forest in their direction. Enric leaped to the side and fell to the ground, while Fenris spun in the air and landed in a kneeling position. The large, but immature swine were in no mood for a fight and kept running at full speed further into the forest. Fenris quickly pulled Enric up with him, then both continued their approach. They soon came across a clearing where the Fog Warriors were in complete disarray, shouting over one another.
"Don't let the piglets get away!" Bryn screamed in frustration.
"Madoc! Madoc!" Gethin yelled as another roar came from ahead.
"Bryn, next to you!" Senna shouted, as another scream filled the air.
"Gethin, above you!" Hector cried out.
Bryn chased barehanded after a tiny, squealing piglet, having dropped her club in the confusion. All around her, pigs of various ages and sizes were running around in total chaos. She didn't even notice the large black shadow race past her, so focused was she on the wild piglet in her sights. Bryn took a running leap and managed to grasp onto the squirming animal's hindquarters. The piglet's squealing doubled in volume as it tried to escape the determined elf's grasp.
"Cerys, get over here! I don't have my club!" Bryn shouted. Her sister was standing next to Senna a few yards away. Both were stooped over Madoc, who was completely prone. Senna shoved Cerys and pointed to Bryn.
"Don't let go!" Cerys yelled as she rushed toward her sister and the writhing piglet. A large adult male with huge tusks turned toward her and pawed the ground in preparation for a charge.
"Over here! Over here!" Fenris bellowed at the top of his lungs and ran in front of Cerys, blocking her from view. With a squeal of rage, the tusker rushed forward. Fenris turned and raced for the closest tree. He ran past the sisters just as Cerys slammed her club down on the piglet in Bryn's hands, instantly crushing its skull. Any doubts he had that the enraged tusker would keep him as its target were erased by the sound of cloven feet rushing right at his heels.
"Fenris!" Enric yelled in fright from somewhere to his right, but Fenris didn't dare look away from the tree he was headed for. The branches weren't very low, but it had a wide, flared trunk at the base. With his mind racing as fast as his feet, Fenris wagered that if he maneuvered just right, he could run up partly on the trunk, then jump for the branches. With a shout, Fenris reached the tree and executed the move he had played out in his head. He leaped through the air and just managed to catch the lowest branch. He swung up and over and saw the tusker charge right under him. He pulled himself up, then turned back to the clearing. His eyes widened in fright.
"Cerys! Behind you!" Fenris shouted at the top of his lungs. She had dropped her club and was holding open a burlap sack for Bryn to toss the piglet in. Neither noticed the large black leopard running right for them. Cerys turned and screamed in fright. She jumped to the side as Midnight pounced. He missed Cerys and crashed into Bryn, who shrieked as she went down with the leopard right on top of her. Only a split second passed before Midnight jumped away from her with the piglet locked in his massive jaws. He took off in a bounding run as Bryn rolled over and grabbed at the club her sister had dropped.
"Fucking, thieving cat!" She yelled as she tossed the club at the quickly retreating feline. Two boars squealed in fury and gave chase. All three animals disappeared into the undergrowth in a flash. So intent were all the Fog Warriors on Midnight's brazen theft of their sole catch, that none noticed the charging boar that headed straight for Enric. His scream stole Fenris's breath away as the white-haired elf turned from his low perch to see Enric already in midair from a mighty toss of the massive hog's tusks. He landed on his back, but barely had time to think before the boar was upon him. He shifted just in time to avoid being disemboweled by a sharp tusk, but in the process found himself completely underneath the berserk beast. He grabbed hold of the tusks and held on with all his strength.
Fenris jumped down from the tree and somersaulted into a full run toward Enric and the boar. He crossed the distance in a blur of speed. His lyrium brands pulsed and his right hand faded into silver-blue flame as he slammed his fist forward into the animal's torso. He grasped its massive, muscular heart and promptly ripped it apart. In a testament to the beast's ferocity, the boar continued to struggle for several seconds before it finally fell to the side. Fenris lost his footing and landed right on top of Enric. Both men just stared at each other with their twin pairs of green eyes. And then Fenris felt the beginnings of an erection from the man beneath him. Enric blushed bright red, which caused Fenris to blush in turn, even before his own cock began to swell.
"Enric!" Senna raced over, breaking the momentary spell. Fenris rolled away while Enric rolled over. Both men faced the ground as the redheaded warrior rushed over. She patted the dark-haired elf's back until he turned around.
"I'm okay! It only caught my breeches when it threw me. Barely a scratch!" Enric explained quickly. He was about to say more, but he was silenced by a tight hug from Senna. Her eyes were misty as she turned to Fenris.
"Thank you, Fenris! Thank you!"
"You're welcome," he said after taking a deep breath and rolling back over so that he faced the canopy. Movement out of the corner of his eye drew his gaze to the right. Madoc approached with a slight limp, with one arm around Gethin's shoulders for support while the black-haired elf held him at the waist.
"Madoc..." Fenris breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought-"
"Hah, so did I when I turned around to see Midnight perched right behind me in the tree," the short brunet said with a reassuring chuckle. "Damned sneaky cat! Gave me a fright and I fell right off the branch!"
"You're sure you're okay?" Gethin asked as he brushed a hand through Madoc's hair.
"Just a sore back and ankle. Good thing the ground is soft!" Madoc laughed again with a smile that brightened when Gethin gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
"Well, will wonders never cease," Hector mused from Fenris's left. The white-haired elf sat up and watched as the Rivaini man inspected the boar's chest closely with one hand, while the other checked an eye. "Quite dead. And not a drop of blood."
"How? How did you do that?" Senna said to Fenris in awe.
"Who cares! That damned cat got a piglet, but we got the biggest boar of the bunch!" Bryn exclaimed.
"Fog Warriors! Tonight we feast!" Cerys clapped hands with her sister and the two women whooped with delight.
Fenris watched as the circular fire grew higher and higher, the smoke mingling with the mist to fade away above. It was actually one of two campfires burning at the moment. The other was a short distance away. It was larger at the base, but lower in flame. It served to heat the massive boar that was slowly being rotated on a large spit by Hector and Enric. The large human had basted the beast's entire body with some mixture of Qunari spices, though he swore the style itself was Rivaini in origin. Regardless of the cuisine, the smell was driving Fenris wild. The combined scent of the roasting meat and the spices had him salivating almost painfully. Thankfully his stomach wasn't growling as loudly as before, but it certained rumbled here and there when he would glance over at the roasting spit. However, there was one sight that sometimes drew his attention away.
Fenris watched the muscles of Enric's arms and torso flex, then his gaze shifted downward to the solid, well-built legs, the curve of his rump, and finally the bulge at the front of the dark-haired elf's breeches. Fenris's cock twitched as the memory of Enric hardening right under him filled his mind.
"Thank you," Braith said, appearing next to Fenris and sitting down next to him.
"Hello!" Fenris said with a slight cough of surprise. His eyes then widened in shock as the blond elf leaned over and wrapped him in a strong embrace. Before releasing his hold, Braith kissed him on the cheek. Fenris was now speechless.
"Fenris, I know the two of us got off on the wrong foot, mostly because of me. I'm sorry."
"I... um..." Fenris hesitated, not expecting this from the usually snide elf at all.
"Senna told me what happened during the hunt. You saved Enric's life. You have my eternal gratitude for that," Braith said as he looked intently over at his lover at the second fire.
"And you have mine. For saving my life. I should have been more grateful. I'm sorry." Fenris replied, having finally collected himself. Braith studied him for a moment, with his eyes tracing over the tattoos on his arms.
"Arvel told me about those," Braith said vaguely, but Fenris knew what he spoke of from following his gaze. "I get the impression he was going to keep it a secret, but after what the hunters witnessed, that wasn't going to be possible any longer. Did you not want him to tell us?"
"No... I think... I think he was leaving that to me, I suppose. I just don't like discussing them much," Fenris murmured.
"From what he said about the process of creating them-" Braith stopped when Fenris winced. "Sorry, now I see what you mean. Let me just say this. Whatever you may think of them, they are a gift. Actually, you are a gift. I was skeptical when I first found you, feverish and almost a meal for Midnight, but you managed to procure the largest meal we've ever had from a single hunt. Usually we get two, maybe three piglets, if we're lucky. As I mentioned before, even if we killed a boar, we wouldn't be able to carry it back without leaving a massive trail of blood. You solved that particularly problem quite nicely."
"I can do it again," Fenris insisted.
"No doubt. And that will be music to Senna's ears!" Braith chuckled. He then stood up and gave Fenris a bow. "Welcome fellow Fog Warrior," he said before turning to walk over to Enric. Fenris tried not to watch as Braith and Enric shared a long kiss. A feeling of intense guilt washed over him, but he did his best to school his features into a semblance of nonchalance.
"Fenris?"
"Hmmm?" He looked up to see Bryn and Cerys grinning down at him.
"Hector said the boar has a bit more time to roast," Bryn began.
"In the meantime, would you care to dance?" Cerys finished. A look of fright stole over his face.
"I... I don't... I don't dance!" Fenris answered with an adamant shake of his head.
"That is not a problem!" Both sisters laughed. "Just follow along!"
"But... but we have no music!" Fenris protested with a trembling voice.
"Arvel! Can you sing for a bit?" Cerys called out to the healer who was seated nearby with Senna.
"A tune suitable for a saltarello?" Bryn added, referring to a merry dance that had grown in popularity in the Imperium.
"Certainly!" Arvel replied with a wink to Senna, who brushed her hands off and stood up with her husband.
"I don't see any instruments," Fenris continued with his excuses, even as the two sisters hoisted him onto his feet and led him to the space between the two campfires. Arvel began to hum while Senna clapped her hands in time with the tune. Soon the rebel singer introduced a wordless melody that wove in and out with a few chirps and whistles, that his wife punctuated with rhythmic clapping. Soon it became a full a capella tune as Bryn, and then Cerys went through a few steps of the saltarello in front of Fenris.
Fenris took a step, then flourished with his arms just as the sisters had done. However, instead of stopping there, he spun around and continued with a series of movements that seemed to come out of nowhere. It was as if his legs held the memory, rather than his mind. The sisters clapped with glee.
"You do know the saltarello!" Both women said as one as they spun around him along to the beat of Senna's hands and Arvel's melody.
"I..." Fenris's voice trailed off, as at this point it was obvious that somehow he did know the dance. He chewed his lip as his feet and arms took on a life of their own and he danced along with them. He swerved to one sister, bringing his body almost into contact, then twirled on one foot to do the same with the other. The dancing elves whirled around one another, and then in perfect unison, all three executed a quick series of leaping sidesteps that had the whole camp of Fog Warriors whistling and cheering. Fenris was so intent on the dance that he didn't notice a large fallen leaf near his foot until he slipped on it. He stumbled over, and though both sisters tried to catch him, all they managed to do was to fall right along with him. Arvel and Senna immediately ceased the a capella tune and ran over. The ground was soft and damp and none of the dancers were hurt in the least.
"We're okay!" Bryn said before anyone could ask. The sisters laughed as they sat up on either side of Fenris. The sound was infectious and before he knew it, Fenris was laughing along with them.
"Oh no! I don't dance!" Bryn deepened her voice in an impression of Fenris's. He chuckled some more at that, then looked up to see Enric grinning down at him. His heart skipped a beat as the other elf extended a hand. He took it immediately and was pulled back to his feet.
"I didn't know you could dance," Enric said with a look of surprise.
"Neither did I," Fenris said honestly, but Enric shook his head.
"You're too modest," Enric chuckled and gave him a friendly clap on the back. "Well, while you entertained the rest of us, the boar finished roasting!"
More cheers came from the other Fog Warriors as Fenris turned to see Hector hacking at the boar's body with a machete while Gethin stood nearby with a large wooden tray. Large slabs of meat fell at odd angles, forcing the amber-eyed elf to lean over in one direction and then another to catch all the pieces. The tray was soon full and piled high with meat, while the massive boar itself barely looked cut into. To say there would be extra was an understatement.
There was a stool already set into the ground between the two campfires, but Gethin walked past it and approached Fenris. The white-haired elf look at the black-haired one in confusion.
"We give thanks to the boar whose gift of life has been passed along to ours," the shorter elf intoned to murmurs of agreement from all around. "We also give thanks to the hunter who made this meal possible. Thank you Fenris," Gethin bowed slightly.
"To Fenris!" The Fog Warriors all cheered together. He looked nervously at the utterly enticing meat.
"As the hunter who downed the boar, you get the first taste," Gethin urged. Fenris broke out into a cold sweat and made no move to take any from the tray. "Fenris, are you alright?" The amber-eyed elf asked as he noticed the shaking that had taken the other elf's body.
"Fenris, you can do this," Enric whispered as he stepped closer to his new friend and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"But... I am-"
"You are amazing," Enric interrupted him. Something in the way the handsome elf had uttered those words shook Fenris to his core. His resolve slipped and he reached forward to take a piece of meat in hand. He brought it to his lips and closed his eyes, half in fear and half in anticipation. The flesh was so tender, it seemed to almost melt in his mouth. The spices were exquisite and burst with flavor along his entire tongue with a medley of savory, sweet, and piquant tones. There was no angry admonition from Danarius, no screaming insults from Hadriana. Nothing but the incredible taste in his mouth. And when he opened his eyes, the warmth of expressions from all around him banished the last of his doubts. Gethin grinned up at him, then turned and walked back to the stool with Fenris right behind him. The shorter elf set the tray down, then took his own piece as the rest of the Fog Warriors crowded around and shared in the feast.
Rather than breaking up into private conversations, everyone seemed determined to sit as closely to Fenris as possible throughout the meal. Arvel began to tell a story of an Antivan princess in love with Tevinter slave. Despite the subject matter, it was actually a comedy that drew as much of its material from the cultural differences of the two nations, as the class divide between the lovers. Laughter came from all around Fenris, as he sat closest to Arvel. The elf could not think of any time in his life when he had been surrounded by so much mirth that wasn't steeped in cruelty and blood. When the story was done, the Fog Warriors began to depart for other areas of the camp, but not without giving their thanks to Fenris once more in the form of firm embraces, kisses on the cheek, and one loud smack on the bottom that he suspected was from one of the sisters. Fenris was blushing furiously by the end of it all.
"Fenris?" Enric asked softly as he stepped close.
"Yes?" Fenris's heart began to beat faster, though he avoided the other man's eyes.
"I wanted to show you something. Will you walk with me?" Enric asked, a slight tremor in the man's deep voice. Fenris looked up at that.
"Where's Braith?" The white-haired elf asked before he could stop himself.
"He left again on a long patrol," Enric said with a slightly embarrassed look that Fenris found equal parts irritating and endearing.
"Shouldn't we help clean up?"
"Gethin and the sisters have already offered to do so."
"But what about all the extra meat?" Fenris motioned to the still mostly intact hog.
"Senna and Hector always take care of salting and curing extra meat for storage. We would only get in the way," Enric assured. "Now, will you walk with me?" He repeated. Fenris looked at him carefully, but remained silent. Finally he nodded and allowed the dark-haired elf to lead him away.
The two men walked through the mist, which seemed to grow even thicker with each step. When Fenris turned around, he could barely make out the campsite.
"How do you avoid getting lost?" Fenris asked with a worried look over his shoulder.
"The trees," Enric answered with a smile. He nodded up at the moss-covered trees that surrounded them. "Each is different and serve as landmarks."
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see," Enric promised as they continued through the fog. Slowly it seemed to thin out, until they stepped out of the mist completely. There were on a large rocky promontory that jutted out from the mountainside, as well as the fog. Fenris's eyes widened when he noticed that he could see all the way to the coast from their vantage point.
"The fog, why does it not cover this?" Fenris whispered in awe as he took in the sight of the lush tropical forest below the band of clouds, then the sandy beaches lapped by azure water.
"The shape of the mountain and the way it influences the wind," Enric said, then grinned and shrugged. "Or at least that's how Arvel explained it to me."
"And no trees to obscure our view?"
"It doesn't rain up here. The trees get all their moisture from the fog, but there's no fog here either, and thus no trees," Enric explained. Fenris nodded, then turned back to the incredible vista.
"It's..." Fenris sighed. "Words fail," he managed as he turned to see Enric looking right at him.
"I agree," the dark-haired elf said, though Fenris had a feeling Enric wasn't talking about the view.
"Enric..."
"I'm proud of you. I know how hard it was for you to take the first taste of the meal," the dark-haired elf interjected.
"Do you? Really?" Fenris asked skeptically.
"Well, maybe not exactly. My master had different rules regarding meals. I never ate in her presence, so I never had to wait for her to finish first. But she had other rules. Cruel, ridiculous ones, that often made no sense beyond delighting her sick sense of humor. So while our experiences may have been different in a particular sense, in a general one, I can empathize with you. All of the Fog Warriors can."
"Even the humans?" Fenris asked.
"Fenris, don't do that. Senna and Hector are every bit one of us," Enric gently chided him. "Senna was not a slave, but she served the same master as Arvel and helped him escape the night... well, the night he lost his arms. Hector was sentenced to death when he helped his elven lover escape from slavery. She died in childbirth and his son was stillborn."
"I'm sorry," Fenris murmured in shame. The sudden flare of anti-human sentiment had surprised even him.
"Do you not like humans?"
"I..." Fenris paused, unsure of what to think. His feelings for his master were a complete jumble at the moment. It didn't help that he was emotionally confused about the elf standing next to him. "I don't know," he finally muttered.
"We have plenty of reasons to hate many humans... but save your hate for the ones who truly deserve it," Enric said softly. Fenris nodded and turned back to look over the promontory. A shadow passed overhead and both men looked up to see a great eagle soar above them. It had white belly feathers, but the wings were dark grey. They watched it in silence as it flew in a wide, gently curving circle.
"I wish I could be so free..." Fenris whispered with a look of longing.
"Fenris, you are," Enric remarked, stepping even closer to his side. The two men did not touch, but Fenris was intensely aware of the other elf's body next to his. "We'll remove your collar soon enough, once you've proven yourself. Though, I have a feeling that most everyone at the hunt feels like you already have."
"Even without it, I'll still be a slave."
"Fenris, you are already free," Enric insisted once more.
"It doesn't feel like it."
"It will. In time. Just give it time," Enric said as he clasped Fenris's shoulder. Both men turned at the touch to look squarely at each other.
"We should get back to camp," Fenris said quickly. He noticed the look of disappointment on Enric's face, but the dark-haired elf did not argue. "Thank you for showing me this," Fenris quickly added. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Enric's expression lift.
"Thank you for saving my life."
"Are you certain about this?" Fenris asked nervously. The white-haired elf was kneeling on the forest floor, with his head resting on a small tree stump. He was surrounded by all of the Fog Warriors, excluding those out on patrol.
"Yes! Honestly, we would have done this after your first hunt, rather than your second... but we didn't want certain people to get jealous that you lost your collar so much faster than they did," Enric said with a pointed look at Braith. The blond elf rolled his eyes.
"But my collar is steel, not iron!" Fenris protested.
"Senna's blade can cut through anything!" Bryn added.
"It's said to have been forged from the metal of a falling star," Arvel explained. "It was part of my former master's collection."
"Fenris, now don't move an inch," Senna warned as she placed her black dagger into one of two small loops in his collar that were once used to attach a chain. She wiggled the blade so that it penetrated slightly into the stump and stood straight up. Hector stepped up with a large hammer in hand. Fenris closed his eyes. No sooner had he done so, when there was a loud clang that stung his ears as his collar jostled painfully against his neck.
"Now for the other side," Senna said as she wrenched her dagger free from the stump and rotated Fenris's collar. She placed her dagger into the second loop and positioned it like before. There was another loud clang as Hector forced the dagger through the loop with a hammer strike, splitting the collar in two.
Fenris stood up to cheers and clapping around him and fingered his neck, marveling at the lack of a collar. He turned to see Senna smile at him with her dagger back at her side.
"That's quite a blade," he remarked with wide eyes. Senna winked at him, which for her was a supremely friendly expression.
Days became weeks and weeks became months as time faded from moment to moment like mist through the forest that Fenris now called home. He had learned much of the whistling language of the scouts, though he still had trouble producing some of the sounds himself. Along with the sisters Bryn and Cerys, he had taught several of the other Fog Warriors how to dance the saltarello, which became a bit of a tradition at the larger feasts. Boar became a staple of their everyday meals, with enough salted and cured leftovers to feed them between hunts. The longscouts still foraged for fruits and berries, but this was now done for variety, rather than necessity.
The days that weren't spent hunting were often filled with stories from Arvel, who had an endless supply. He was the most well-read slave that Fenris had ever met and his vocabulary was prodigious. Arvel had said that the greatest regret of his escape was that he had not brought any of his former master's books along with him. To Fenris, though, it seemed the older elf had committed to memory the entirety of the collection he mourned the loss of. Arvel not only told stories in Arcanum, the tongue of Tevinter. He freely spoke in Thedosian Common, and Fenris had even heard him speaking in what seemed like fluent Rivaini to Hector. At first Fenris had been embarrassed the first time he interrupted Arvel to ask the meaning of a word, but the scholarly elf had urged him from that point forward to always ask for a definition if context didn't provide suitable clues. Though he could not read, Fenris's spoken vocabulary in both Arcanum and Common expanded in leaps and bounds from his rapt attention to Arvel's tall tales and epic sagas.
Fenris found his time with the Fog Warriors to be one of contentment and peace... save for one glaring exception by the name of Enric. Fenris had never forgotten the muscular elf's reaction that day so long ago on his first boar hunt. Fenris often repeated in his head the moment he had fallen on top of Enric, especially on nights when the wind through the trees was loud enough to muffle any involuntary sounds from self-pleasure.
The dark-haired, green-eyed elf often disturbed Fenris's calm during the day, as well. Enric stood even closer to Fenris than Hector when chatting about everyday things. His embraces lasted a bit longer than Madoc's. The smiles he gave Fenris were brighter than Gethin's. His gaze was more direct than Arvel's. The kisses he placed on Fenris's cheeks after a dance lingered beyond those of the sisters. Fenris found the only way to keep from mulling over Enric was to either listen to a story from Arvel, or be in the midst of a hunt. Unfortunately, that still left plenty of time for the other elf to occupy his thoughts.
"Fenris?" A deep voice accompanied a hand that waved in front of his face, breaking his reverie.
"Yes?" Fenris blushed when he looked over to Enric right next to him. Both men were in front of Fenris's tent in matching green tunics and breeches.
"Senna mentioned that you were heading out on longscout duty today."
"I am," Fenris replied, though his throat was slightly constricted with nervousness as he avoided Enric's eyes.
"Well, you didn't even hear me approach so lost in a daydream you were! I hope you are more alert out in the jungle below," Enric said with a chuckle. Fenris furrowed his brows as he tried to will himself not to blush again. He failed.
"Yes, well, I was just going to pack a light meal and then be on my way," Fenris said dismissively and turned away. A strong, but gentle hand clasped his shoulder. A shiver ran down Fenris's spine at the touch, but he turned impassive eyes to the other elf.
"I wanted to ask you..." Enric's voice trailed off for a moment as he lifted his hand from Fenris's shoulder.
"Yes?" Fenris muttered with a bit of impatience, though inwardly he wanted Enric to step even closer.
"I'm on washing duty today. When was the last time you washed your set of armor?"
"I don't really think that's any of your business," Fenris said sharply. He instantly regretted the way he made Enric's face fall. The other elf was silent for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision.
"You're right, but you do like to hunt in it. Cleaner armor means less of a scent for boars to catch in case the wind changes direction during a hunt."
"I don't think it will really make all that much of a difference," Fenris remarked with a shake of his head, but Enric was undeterred.
"Fenris, I insist. When you get back from your patrol route, your armor will be cleaner than ever! Just leave it to me!" Enric insisted with a zeal that was a bit confusing. He had never known the dark-haired elf to be a fanatic of cleanliness. That distinction rested squarely with Senna. Still, it seemed an odd thing to argue about and Fenris didn't want to quarrel any longer, especially since less innocent thoughts started to creep into his mind and his breeches were already a snug fit.
"Fine, fine! My armor is in the tent. It's all yours!" Fenris threw his hands up and was about to step away, but then Enric grabbed him in a quick hug.
"Thank you!"
"Huh? You're washing my armor. I should be thanking you," Fenris raised his brow at the other elf. "Are you feeling well?"
"Never better! Have a great time on your patrol! I'll just grab these..." Enric went onto all fours and began to retrieve Fenris's armor from the tent below. Fenris couldn't help but stare at the man's rump. He glanced away when Enric stood back up, Fenris's armor hugged to his chest.
"Bye," Fenris murmured as Enric gave him a final nod and a wave. When Fenris was out of earshot he grunted to himself and shook his head. "Just what I needed..." he muttered as the image of Enric's bottom latched onto his thoughts.
Fenris took a swig from his waterskin as he sat in the tall tree about midway to the canopy. He tried not to think about Enric on all fours, but it had become increasingly hard to do so, up in a tree, far from camp, with no one to talk to and distract his thoughts. Fenris shifted his legs a bit, which called attention to the raging erection he currently had. He had made it a point to never pleasure himself while out in the field, like Madoc was rumored to do, but he had to admit that he was sorely tempted to do so at that moment. Just when he reached for the drawstrings to his breeches, he heard a keening birdsong to the south. He froze. Braith had seen a patrol moving inland. The song continued. The information carried on the innocent-sounding tune caused Fenris to break out into a cold sweat. It was a Tevinter patrol, rather than Qunari. There had not been a single Tevinter patrol seen since Fenris had joined the Fog Warriors. Fenris placed his thumb and forefinger to his lips and gave one of the few whistles he could do convincingly and with enough volume.
Danger approaches. Danger approaches.
Fenris scurried down the tree and began to make his way back to camp, defying normal longscout protocol. He was supposed to stay in the field and help track enemy movement, but Fenris had to speak to Arvel and Senna immediately. Though the Fog Warriors did not have leaders per se, as the eldest rebels, Arvel and Senna were the de facto decision-makers. No one begrudged them this role and Fenris knew they were the ones he had to convince.
I will return for you.
Danarius's voice echoed in his mind as Fenris broke out into a full run through the hot jungle.
"Sanctuary, we have to go to Sanctuary," Fenris said under his breath as he raced through the undergrowth. Though Arvel had mentioned the Fog Warriors spending time there on several occasions, nothing had required such an action since Fenris's arrival. The white-haired elf prayed that this was just a random patrol and part of the Imperium's ongoing conflict with the Qunari. However, he could not shake the feeling that this was not the case. And so Fenris ran as if being chased by an enraged tusker and did not slow down, even as he passed from the heat of the rainforest into the cool mist of the Fog Warriors' domain.
Using the trees as his guide, Fenris raced through the fog until he came upon the rebel camp. They had heard his whistle and all were alert, including Hector who was now wielding his battleaxe.
"What did you see?" The Rivaini asked. Fenris shook his head.
"Nothing. I heard Braith's birdsong. It's a Tevinter patrol."
"Then why did you return from the field?" Senna muttered. "You know that's not how we do things!"
"Fenris, what's wrong?" Arvel asked as studied the elf's frightened face.
"I think... I think it might be my master," Fenris said with a trembling voice.
"Your former master, Fenris. Never forget that." Arvel gently reproached him.
"We have to seek Sanctuary!" Fenris pleaded with wide eyes as he convinced himself that indeed Danarius was close by.
"If Braith was the one who noticed them, then they're nowhere near us. What has gotten into you, Fenris!" Senna snapped.
"Fenris, come with me," Arvel said suddenly. He gave his wife a sharp look, then led Fenris into the healing tent. "Sit," he commanded. Fenris instantly obeyed.
"Please Arvel, I have a bad feeling about this. We need to go to Sanctuary. Now."
"Fenris, Sanctuary is not something to be taken lightly. We only go there at the greatest need."
"If my mast... former master is nearby-"
"If. And that is a very big if. Sanctuary requires certainty," Arvel interrupted him.
"Why? What is this Sanctuary? If it is so safe, why do we not live there at all times? To do otherwise makes no sense!" Fenris raised his voice slightly, but a sharp look from Arvel brought it back down instantly.
"Because the spirit of Sanctuary does not wish it to be so," the sage said evenly. Fenris's mouth dropped.
"Spirit? You mean demon?"
"I mean spirit."
"It is a creature of the Fade! You made a bargain with such a being?" Fenris gasped.
"She has required no bargain, no agreement, other than we are never to enter her territory unless absolutely necessary. She has hidden us before and has promised to do so again."
"She? A desire demon then?"
"Desire demons are not held strictly to female form, though that is the most common depiction of them in literature-" Arvel began to explain.
"Arvel, you have placed the safety of the Fog Warriors at the mercy of a demon! And yet you think nothing of it! Even my master always treated demons with the utmost caution!"
"Former master," Arvel added dryly.
"Why did you never mention this to me before!" Fenris growled.
"You never asked," Arvel replied impassively.
"That's no excuse! You should know better old man!" Fenris shouted in anger. Sanctuary, the one place he had hoped that the Fog Warriors could run to was now no longer an option.
"That's it, get out! Right now!" Senna ordered as she walked into the tent. Fenris didn't need to be told twice. He rushed out of the tent, past several shocked Fog Warriors who had heard the shouting, though none tried to stop him as he ran by. He had no idea where he was headed, but before long the fog faded away and he found himself at the promontory that Enric had first shown him months ago. He sat down with his back braced against a large rock and wiped at his eyes as angry tears began to fall. He didn't even know why he was crying, but once it had started, he found it hard to stop. He wasn't sure how long it took, but finally the tears ceased, though his eyes remained wet.
"I thought I'd find you here."
Fenris quickly wiped at his eyes and did his best to compose himself before turning around. Enric stood several feet away, with a burlap sack held in front of him with both hands
"Well, you found me," Fenris muttered, though his heart skipped at the sight of the man.
"Don't worry, we're safe. Madoc picked up Braith's birdsong and relayed it to camp. The patrol he saw turned back to the south."
"What's that?" Fenris said, trying to cover the embarrassment he now felt over his earlier panic and subsequent argument with Arvel.
"First, tell me why you were shouting at Arvel."
"I... he..." Fenris blushed and tried to form the words.
"Yes?"
"He told me about the demon he bargained with."
"What are you talking about?" Enric's eyes flashed angrily.
"The demon of Sanctuary!"
"That is a spirit! Not a demon! Two very different things!"
"So you knew as well, but didn't tell me?"
"Fenris... I came here to give you a gift, not to argue about beings from the Fade. What you think is a demon is most certainly not. She is a benevolent spirit that has helped us in the past. She's indirectly responsible for saving your life, as without her, there would not have been any Fog Warriors around the day you were bitten by a centipede and almost eaten by Midnight."
Enric's angry words flowed over Fenris, but one in particular stood out in stark contrast to all the rest.
"You brought me a gift?" Fenris blinked in surprise and looked at the burlap sack in Enric's hands. The elf nodded and sighed.
"I had imagined slightly better circumstances to present this, but perhaps this will lift your mood," Enric replied as he walked over to Fenris and handed him the sack. The white-haired elf opened it to find his armor set. He looked up in confusion. "I didn't just wash it, if that's what you're thinking," Enric smirked and shook his head.
Fenris set the sack down and began to pull out the dark grey pieces. And then he noticed what Enric had done. Matching the color of his armor perfectly were long, majestic eagle feathers set into the various parts, most prominently along the shoulders of his chestpiece and on the edges of his bracers.
"Bryn and Cerys did the hard part. I'm rubbish at sewing. But... it was my idea."
Fenris knelt to the ground and just stared the armor that he now had arranged in a semi-circle around him.
"Oh... I knew you would hate it! I don't know what I was thinking! It's... it's-"
"Beautiful," Fenris finally whispered as he looked up and met Enric's eyes. "This is beautiful," Fenris repeated.
"You... you really think so?" Enric gasped with relief. The other elf nodded.
"Why?" Fenris asked.
"I remembered the way you looked at that eagle. The day of your first boar hunt. You said you wanted to be just as free. You are free, Fenris. I thought these feathers... I thought they might help you to really believe that."
"But how did you get so many?" Fenris stared in amazement.
"I've been collecting them ever since that day," Enric smiled brightly. Fenris couldn't believe his ears.
"That was months ago."
"I know. It took that long. Eagle feathers aren't exactly easy to find."
"I... I don't know how to thank you," Fenris said with a worried scowl. There was no way he would ever be able to manage something sufficient in return.
"Your smile would be a start," Enric answered simply. Fenris's heart lifted at that and he smiled as brightly as the other elf. He felt a surge of affection for Enric rise in his heart, and quickly stood. Fenris wrapped the other man in a tight embrace. Before he could get too comfortable in the other man's arms, Enric let go, which was a surprise, as it was usually Fenris who ended their embraces first. Enric was blushing, but then he turned around before Fenris could scrutinize him any further.
"I need to get back to camp, but make sure to thank the sisters, too! And apologize to Arvel!" Enric called out over his shoulder as he hurried off.
Arvel had been very forgiving. Senna not so much. Since the latter was with the former most of the time, Fenris was forced to avoid Arvel, which left him apart from the usual evening story circle. He did get a chance to thank the sisters for their fine work on his armor and they had immediately demanded that he wear it and pose for them at first light the next day. He promised that he would do so, then headed off for an early rest. Though he lay on his soft bedroll with eyes closed, sleep refused to come.
Gentle rustling just outside his tent immediately drew his attention and his eyes snapped open.
"Who's there?" Fenris whispered.
"It's me," Enric whispered back, his deep voice clearly identifying him. The flap to Fenris's tent opened and the dark-haired elf approached on all fours.
"What are you doing?"
"What I've wanted to all these long months!" Enric whispered plaintively and slid his chest up Fenris's body until he was face to face with the other elf in the low, one-man tent.
"But what about Br-" Fenris was silenced by Enric's rough, yearning kiss. Fenris could feel the other man's rock hard erection, which brought his to life instantly. Enric writhed into him, bringing their cocks side by side, but finally Fenris gained the presence of mind to pull his head away. "What of Braith?" He panted.
"He didn't get back tonight," Enric murmured as he tried to catch Fenris's mouth again. The white-haired elf turned his head quickly.
"Aren't you worried?"
"No. Braith is our best longscout. He's spent several nights far in the field. He's fine," Enric answered.
"But he's your-" Fenris could say no more as Enric's lips pressed against his once more. His tongue slid into Fenris's mouth and neither man said anything more for quite some time. Finally, Enric pulled away and looked at Fenris with hungry eyes. "Turn over."
"What?"
"Fenris, please. I want you. I want to be inside you. Now," Enric grunted with need.
"Enric, no, not like this. Braith saved my life," Fenris protested.
"Don't speak of Braith. Right now, it's just the two of us. Right here, right now."
"No," Fenris said more firmly, though he made no move to push Enric away. The larger elf furrowed his brows, then sighed and sank down to nestle his head against Fenris's cheek.
"If I cannot have you, may I hold you?" Enric whispered, his lips ghosting over Fenris's neck.
"Yes," Fenris relented despite all his instincts screaming for him not to. He turned on his side and Enric scooted closer and held him from behind.
"Thank you, Fenris. Even this is more than I dared hope for," Enric murmured into Fenris's ear, then placed a soft kiss on his shoulder. Fenris pulled Enric's right arm closer and hugged it to his chest. The larger elf was true to his word and did nothing more than hold Fenris. Wrapped in the warm of the other man, Fenris finally fell asleep.
Fenris woke first and slowly slid out of the tent. Enric was fast asleep and he didn't have the heart to wake him. He also wanted to delay the inevitable conversation they needed to have. Instead, Fenris gently pulled the burlap sack with his armor out of the tent, then began to put it on. He had promised to show the sisters how he looked in the altered suit, and he could use the distraction. Enric snorted slightly in his sleep, drawing Fenris's attention. He knew he couldn't leave Enric in there for anyone else to notice, but he hesitated.
"Fog Warriors to arms! Enemies in the camp!" Senna yelled at the top of her lungs, waking Enric instantly. He scrambled out of Fenris's tent, an act witnessed by many Fog Warriors who rushed by due to the alarm, though no one had the time or inclination to make any comment. There were shouts of dismay all around them as Fenris and Enric drew their weapons.
"To the healer's tent!" Senna yelled again. Enric and Fenris shared a nervous glance and ran toward her voice.
"Who are the enemies?" Fenris asked as he and Enric quickly joined several other Fog Warriors at Senna's side.
"Hello my little wolf," a voice called out through the mist.
Fenris's eyes widened, and he turned slowly. His heart was beating so fast and so hard that he thought he might faint.
"Fenris, it is good to see you again," Danarius said as he stepped through the mist. He was soon joined by over a dozen masked Tevinter soldiers. "Hmmm, that's an interesting change you've made to your armor," the magister murmured as his eyes took in the feathers that now adorned the suit he had given to his slave.
"Danarius..." Fenris choked on the name as warring emotions filled him.
"Master," Danarius corrected with an edge to his voice.
"Master," Fenris quickly amended as his entire body shook. He felt a terror like none he had ever felt, and yet there was also sense of relief at seeing the man after so long. The traitorous thought made him feel ill.
"Leave now if you value your life, magister!" Senna shouted as pointed her black dagger at Danarius.
"How did you find us?" Arvel asked, his arms hidden behind his back as he regarded the magister evenly.
"One of your scouts was so very kind to show the way," Danarius said with a feral smile. He nodded and the ranks of the Tevinter soldiers parted. Held up by a large soldier from the slave collar now attached at the neck was Braith. His lip was split and his face and bare chest were covered with bruises and burn marks. Most horrifying of all was the fact that the blond elf's right arm was completely missing, as was half his left leg.
"Braith!" All of the Fog Warriors screamed at the sight, but none more than Arvel who fell to the ground in shock, revealing his own injuries to the magister. Danarius smirked at the sight of the older elf's lack of hands. When Arvel lifted his eyes, he bared his teeth at the magister, even as a tear fell down one cheek.
"You will pay for what you have done!" Enric uttered the promise that was on the minds of all the Fog Warriors.
"Be thankful that he still lives. Barely. I'll admit, he lasted far longer under torture than I would have imagined."
"Master, please, I beg you. Do not harm them," Fenris pleaded as he sank to his knees in supplication.
"Fenris, cease your nonsense and stand up," Danarius ordered. Fenris immediately obeyed to the shocked looks of his friends. "A Qunari patrol with saarebas trackers is nearby, so I have no intention of wasting any more time. This rabble is hardly worth it and I am feeling rather charitable since they kept you safe all these months," the magister remarked with another nod. The soldier holding Braith stepped forward into the no-man's land separating the groups, then threw the elf's unconscious body forward. He fell like a ragdoll, causing Enric to scream in rage and grief as he hurried over to him. Cerys and Bryn were right at his side in an instant, though the rest of the Fog Warriors kept their eyes on Danarius and his soldiers. The magister looked away from them to gaze at Fenris with a look of pride.
"I promised I would find you," Danarius said warmly. "Now come along pet," he added gently.
"He is not your pet!" Enric roared as he stood away from Braith and the sisters. He stalked over to Fenris and stood side-by-side with his fellow Fog Warrior.
"Please master, I... I want to stay," Fenris whimpered.
"Allow you to stay?" Danarius sneered. "I would sooner rip the lyrium from your body and take half of your skin with it! Do you have any idea what those cost me?" The magister snarled.
"He is his own man! Not a possession, not a slave!" Enric shouted in defiance.
"He is mine!" Danarius's eyes flashed with crimson light.
"Over our dead bodies!" Enric challenged.
"So be it," Danarius snapped and looked at his prized slave. Fenris wanted to look away, but found that he could not.
"Master, please," Fenris pleaded once more.
"Kill them all," Danarius ordered. The Tevinter soldiers took that as their instructions, as well, and rushed forward. The Fog Warriors shouted and fell upon the enemy, with Enric leading the way. He instantly cut down two soldiers then thrust his sword right for the heart of the magister. There was a clang of steel as his blade was knocked aside.
"Fenris?" Enric stared in shock as the elf stood in front of his master with sword raised. In his confusion, he didn't parry Fenris's blade as it plunged deep into his belly. Enric opened his mouth, but only gurgled in pain as Fenris pushed him roughly off of his sword and joined the Tevinter soldiers in battle. His lyrium brands blazed, and though only armed with a shortsword, he cut down rebel after rebel. Blood and gore splashed across his armor and face, but he did not cease until only one Fog Warrior was left.
"Fenris," Arvel looked up, having remained on his knees after the shock of seeing Braith's injuries.
"Arvel," Fenris's eyes grew wide, even though the grip on his sword tightened.
"Make it quick. Make it painless. I beg you," Arvel pleaded with reddened, tear-streaked eyes. He then closed them and leaned back, exposing his throat. Fenris hesitated only for a moment, then swung his sword with all his might. It sailed in a wide arc and cleaved the elf's head from his shoulders in one pass.
"Well done my pet," Danarius called out behind him. Fenris looked away from Arvel's head and surveyed the scene of carnage. Bryn and Cerys lay in a heap together, both of their throats slashed. Madoc's bloody body partially covered Gethin's, whose skull was cracked open. Hector had fallen against a tree, disemboweled and missing an eye. Braith's body had a fresh, bloody wound across a chest that no longer drew breath. Finally there was Enric, who had rolled onto his back and stared up at the misty canopy with lifeless eyes.
Fenris dropped his sword and fell to his knees. He then lifted his head and released a scream of pure despair that echoed across the mountainside. The Tevinter soldiers all quickly backed away and even Danarius trembled at the raw, primal sound that ripped through Fenris's throat. Then the elf scrambled to his feet and fled into the mist.
"Fenris! Come back here! Fenris!"
For the first time in his life, Fenris disobeyed his master. He ran and never looked back.
"Fenris?" Hawke called from the doorway, his voice barely above a whisper. The mage was in his night robe and still looked and sounded half-asleep. Fenris was so startled that he turned to look at his lover before he could compose himself. The clear evidence of tears on the elf's face instantly banished all traces of weariness from the mage and he rushed forward.
"I'm fine, Hawke! I'm fine!" Fenris protested, his voice slightly deeper than normal, but Hawke would have none of it. He knelt in front of the couch and pulled the elf into a strong embrace. Hawke's fingers carded through the snow-white hair while Fenris grasped at the man's back tightly.
"Oh, so those were just tears of joy at seeing me after a few hours absence?" Hawke quipped, though his voice was far more gentle than usual. The elf in his arms just grunted at that and squeezed his lover harder. Finally, the two men disengaged and Hawke stood up. He reached out with his hand. "Come back to bed. It's cold without you."
"I... I've had trouble sleeping tonight," Fenris murmured with his eyes lowered.
"Then tell me what has troubled you so," Hawke remarked as he knelt back down. He reached forward and gently stroked Fenris's cheek.
"Remember when I told you about the Fog Warriors?"
"Of course," Hawke raised a brow.
"I was thinking of my time with them," Fenris said, finally lifting his gaze to regard Hawke. The green pools were lined with tears, one of which Hawke wiped away with his thumb. His hand then moved down to brush against Fenris's lips, which opened and gave the mage's palm a soft kiss.
"Perhaps you'd like to share the full story?" Hawke ventured, but Fenris quickly shook his head, even as he planted another kiss to his lover's hand.
"Not tonight, Hawke. One day, but not tonight."
"I know you don't want to talk about this," Hawke began. He shook his head at the frown that instantly formed on Fenris's face. "Let me finish, please," he added. Fenris's expression softened slightly, but his eyes were still wary. "You told me enough to know that Danarius tried his best to control you, to crush your spirit. But he failed. You are free Fenris. In mind and body. Well and truly free."
"I love you," Fenris whispered almost harshly, his voice trembling, though no further tears fell.
"I love you, too," Hawke replied with a soft smile. He reached out again. This time Fenris needed no further urging. He stood and allowed himself to be led away from the library. Hawke walked slightly ahead of him and didn't notice the intense scrutiny that the elf leveled his way as the two approached the stairs of the mansion. Of all possible outcomes, when Fenris had come to the Free Marches, he had never imagined this. To be with the Champion of Kirkwall was like a dream. But here he was, wide awake and with the knowledge that come what may, he would never leave this man's side. Love was a gift that he never thought he would truly possess. As he looked upon the object of his affection and felt the warmth of Hawke's hand, Fenris thought to himself that maybe, just maybe, the Fog Warriors had not died in vain...