Flames leapt from Alim's hands and spun around his staff, seeking Darkspawn flesh. They had attempted an ambush as they slept, though fortunately Alistair had been on watch. Both he and Alistair were Grey Warden, sworn to hunt the evil monsters, they had drunk the blood of the brutish Darkspawn in their joining and could sense them when they were near.
His magic had grown over the months he had spent gathering aid from Ferelden's far reaches. It seemed like years ago when he had undertaken the Harrowing and become a member of the Circle of Mages. It had been a happy day for him, until his close friend Jowan had asked for his help in freeing him from the Circles command, and they had been caught. Jowan had escaped using the forbidden arts of blood magic, something Alim himself had recently discovered. If anyone discovered it, he would be named Maleficar and sentenced to death by the circle.
Duncan of the grey warden had saved him, taken him to fight against the Darkspawn alongside King Cailan. Sadly, Commander Loghain betrayed the king by fleeing, thus leaving him to die. Alim and Alistair only survived by the graces of the witch of the wilds, Flemmeth. Then they moved from the wilds.
They needed all the allies they could get, whether dwarven, elven, human or mage, to help them battle the Darkspawn, the Archdemon that ruled them and end the fifth blight to strike the world of Ferelden. It was a shame the damn creatures decided to kill them constantly. With the ability to sense them, they could not surprise he and his allies.
A large group had attacked them, outnumbering them five to one. Alim had a group of six allies, not including himself and each of them were perfectly capable of defending themselves. Two of the others were mages, Morrigan daughter of the witch Flemmeth and a capable shape shifter and Wynne the spirit healer with a great deal of knowledge. Alistair was a warrior and Sten the Chasin barbarian stood beside him.
Arrows pierced the frigid night air as Leliana, the bard and devout servant of the Chantry, the servants of the Maker, fired her bow with amazing accuracy, striking at vital points and felling many interlopers.
One of the Darkspawn archers suddenly stopped firing to clutch his chest as the tip of a blade protruded from his chest. Another hand brought a blade across its throat and the dead body was thrown to the ground. Zevran was a master assassin of the Antivan Crows. The traitor Loghain and hired him to slay Alim but the attempt had been thwarted and the charming elf spared. Now his allegiance lye only with the young warden.
Brushing his ginger hair from his sweat covered brow, Alim mentally flicked through his list of spells selecting one which he found most appropriate. Calling the mana to him, he unleashed a blast of magic, striking one of the warrior in the face, distracting him for a second, allowing Alistair to swing his blade through the monster's neck. Conjuring more magic he worked the fire he loved so much around the weapons of his allies, allowing them the power of flames.
A Darkspawn broke off from the group and charged towards him, holding a club high, screaming in rage. Smiling, Alim raised his staff, pointing the tip towards the charging mongrel. Letting magic flow down his implement, he released a fountain of flame at the enemy. Its flesh singed though it fought through the cone of heat. Though before it could reach the mage, it fell, pushed away by the fire.
Panting in strained breaths, the burned creature tried to gather the strength to raise its weapon. Alim decided to be merciful and impaled its throat with the sharpened tip of his staff. Three more of the monsters were running towards him, one fell as an arrow pierced his thigh, the others moved unhindered.
Zevran spotted him and spurred himself into action, running at a pace only an assassin could reach, becoming a blur in the frosted air. His blades were singing, gleaming, hungry for more blood as the murderer had taught them. They had no magic but nonetheless seemed to be intelligent, wanting blood and life from others.
Raising his staff, though unable to think of magic to call he tried to defend himself though found a blade cutting his arm and another piercing his gut. Rage filled him though it didn't feel the same. It was muted and everything seemed dark and cold, as if there was a veil between his mind and his body. He could see the desire demon whom had gifted him with blood magic, her pale skin and twisting horns, the allure of her body. How would not go to her, let her suck his soul from his body and trap him forever in her enthralling grip.
Drawing on his last reserves of mana he grasped the leg of a Darkspawn and let his blood magic flow through him, draining the strength of the creature. Other mages could use powers from the entropic side of magic to take life force but none other than a blood mage could take so much with so little magic. Blood Exploded from the Darkspawn and coated the ground and some of his robe, it screamed in its death throes, every drop of life taken by the elven mage.
Zevran reached him then, slaying the other enemy with two slashes. He looked down at his leader and smiled cunningly as he always did. With a flirtatious wink, he turned and raced into battle once more.
There was no doubt the assassin had seen what Alim had done. Blood magic was outlawed, everyone knew this, even the foreign assassin. It could be that he was not bothered by the limits of the law, and that all issues of Legality were faded and indistinct. It seemed to make the assassin more, interesting the way he worked, breaking the law was a casual thing that he didn't take too seriously.
Standing up, Alim was pleased to see that the enemies had been slain all of them murdered. They proceeded to clean up the blood and bodies the Darkspawn had so rudely laden them with and heal the wounds, with Wynne's assistance of course. Soon the camp was more orderly and neither he nor Alistair could sense the presence of any lingering Darkspawn. They settle down to sleep for the night, Alim insisting on first watch. He wanted to speak to Zevran about what had happened to see how much he knew. Not that he felt much like sleeping, the energy he had leached filled him with energy, magical and psychical.
It was a couple of hours before everyone retired for the night and he heard the sounds of sleep from all the tents. Only then did he make his way to the assassins tent, pulling open the flaps gently. The assassin was sleeping, lightly as most elves, his leathers organised beside him and his knives under the pillow. He wore nothing but the cover which warmed him. His smooth chest rose and fell in an almost harmonious way, Alim longed to be as peaceful as the assassin looked. Reaching out, he touched the assassin's chest attempting to rose him.
Zevran awoke almost instantly, looking upon the man who did the waking. 'Ah, have you come to finally discover what I can do?' he asked, a hint of desire in his eyes. 'I knew his would happen eventually.'
Alim smirked, actually rather flattered by the other elf's advances. 'Prehaps there will be time for that later,' he joked meeting the other's eyes, both of the spoke in a raised whisper, keeping their conversation private. 'I came to ask you about what happened earlier today during the battle.'
'Aww, and there was me thinking I was going to get lucky. I don't know what could want to know about the battle, it was fun I suppose, nothing more than that.' Something flickered across his eyes, recognition or something with more depth.'Or do you mean that naughty little act of forbidden magic you performed.'
'That would be it,' Alim muttered, his eyes flickering with guilt. For his years he had been taught that blood magic was wrong, that it made him evil for bartering with demons and other evils spits of the Fade. When it turned out that Jowan was a blood mage, it made him begin to change his mind, but not fast enough to help his friend get out of execution. Then there came the demon, whom he exchanged words and power. Blood magic had effected his life greatly since he left the Circle Tower.
'Well then your secret is safe with me, my friend.' The assassin grabbed the mage's hand, the touch of his skin cold get comforting. 'I will not let that dragon lady know, I'd prefer you to be alive.' By dragon lady he was referring to Wynne whom seemed to mother and lecture the group frequently. 'Now was there anything else?'
'As long I as I have your assured silence...'
Zevran leant forwards and pressed his lips to the mages, lingering the touch for several long seconds. 'Sealed with a kiss.'
Smiling, Alim left the tent and frowned, he only felt more guilty.