Carver stood at the ready when he heard footfalls on the stairs. Leandra's heart began to beat a little faster, worried that whoever did this was indeed back to finish what they started. "Who goes there?" Carver challenged. Anders voice rang back, "I'm here, with Gamlen and Merrill." Carver threw open the door and the healer rushed inside. Anders was barely dressed, carrying his typical green robe under his arm and a large bag over his shoulder. His hair hung loose and wild. Seeing his friend on the floor, Anders went to work immediately.
"Hawke, can you open your eyes? Can you look at me?" At this point, Hawke could only open one, so he stared hazily in Anders' general direction. The healer flashed a light from his fingertips and his patient flinched away. Moving quickly, Anders continued his exam, ghosting his hands over the battered body of his friend. Cuts were still oozing and bruises still forming, Carver wished they could just get on with it. When the exam reached halfway down his brother's chest, he saw a frown crease the mage's face. Carver's stomach did a small flop. Realizing his audience, Anders schooled his emotions and moved on. When he finished, he leaned in to listen to the altered breathing of his charge. The wet, wheezing sound was exactly what he expected. With determination, Anders abruptly stood and strode over to the work table to empty supplies out of his bag. "Merrill, I need you to finish this."
Merrill jumped at her name and hurried over to where Anders was arranging herbs and tools. "Have you ever made the antidote for Magebane?" "Magebane?!" Leandra gasped. Anders still focused on Merrill, "Can you do it?" She stuttered, "Wh- uh, ah yes." "Good. Here are the ingredients. Make sure you don't skimp on the elfroot." He spun around, seeing that the pallor of his charge increased, he addressed Carver firmly, "We need to set that shoulder before it swells too much." "Right," Carver replied, relieved to have something to do. "Mother, let me take him." Leandra had watching this all with wide, fearful eyes. Anders reaction had cemented the alarm in her mind and she couldn't bear to have anyone remove her son from her arms. "Mistress Hawke," Anders murmurs as he kneels next to her, "the faster I do this, the better for him it will be." Leandra met his calm gaze, and slowly moved aside for Carver to take her place. Carver braced himself firmly against his brother's back despite the moans of protest. Anders quickly palpated the joint, and then settled his grip on his companion's arm. "On three," he instructed, " One, two, three!" There was a sickening pop, and a yell from the bloodied man on the floor, as the shoulder was shoved back in socket.
Carver shifted position so that his brother now rested against his broad chest. The man was in a sorry state. He gasped weakly for breath between choked noises that could be either coughs or sobs. Anders put his hands to his friend's chest again. "What's going on?" Carver asks insistently. The healer ignored the question. "Merrill, how is the potion?" "Almost ready. I think," came the meek reply. "Don't over think it, I need it now," Anders called over his shoulder. All of a sudden she appeared beside him. "Here it is," she muttered, her nerves obviously on edge. Anders gave it a sniff and gently grabbed Hawke's jaw. "Drink this," he commanded as he poured the mixture down the inside of his friend's cheek and the instinct to swallow took care of the rest. Hawke groaned and tried to turn away, but Anders' hold was firm and slowly he drained the potent tonic.
Anders knew the potion would need time to work. Magebane was a common poison in Kirkwall, he'd treated many apostates with exposure to it in his time here. The weaker versions of it brought on nausea and diminshed a mage's mana. A strong one could silence the victim's powers entirely and then be fatal in a matter of hours. While the antidote he'd developed was highly effective, he had no way to know how much Hawke had been dosed with or how long ago. The worried eyes of Hawke's family all asked the same question at once. As much as he wished to, there was no answer to give them.
"Carver, your mother shouldn't be here for this next part," he remarked grimly. "I have a right to be with my son!" Leandra interjected loudly. "Not when you're stopping me from saving his life!" Anders bellowed. Before Carver could take a breath to join in, Merrill had jumped in between them shouting, "Please just stop! Look at him!" Hawke's every inch was covered in dirt, blood or a bruise. He was trying to speak, but no words they recognized made it past his lips. Leandra knew Anders was right, but seeing her eldest son like this was sending Leandra into a frenzy of fear and heartbreak. Merrill grasped her elbow, "We'll be nearby. I'm sure there's something we can do to help in the meantime." The women entered the next room and Merrill shut the door before Leandra could look back.
The two men carefully began to remove Hawke's armor, loosening all the ties they could and cutting the rest. The thick, hardened leather was unweildly and their patient not much help. As they pulled it awkwardly over his head, Hawke gave a sharp groan and went completely limp. Anders threw the heavy piece to the side and checked the man's pulse. "Anders, I swear if he dies...!" Carver growled quietly. "Quiet and let me work," the healer snapped back. With the armor out of the way, the mage found what he was looking for. A small seeping wound under his friend's right arm, just below the armpit. "Those bastards," he muttered. "What?!" Carver demanded. "He's been stabbed." he snapped back. "It's an assassin's trick. They use a thin, long blade coated with poison and finish with a beating." The young Hawke's face went red with anger. "There will be time for that later," Anders responded, "Lay him down." Carver gently lowered his brother to the floor and stepped back to make room.
Taking a deep breath, Anders summoned power to his hands and focused. The blade had been long indeed, Hawke's injury went dangerously close to his heart. Had he been struck on the left side, there would have been no saving him. The healer felt the magebane still active along the knife's path, but there was no more time to wait. In the short time since they started to remove his armor, Hawke had gone from white to gray, his lips now a frightening shade of blue. Anders brought his full strength to bear as the poison fought him. The muscles began to tense throughout Hawke's chest until his back arched off the floor. Slowly, the wound began to close. Anders was tiring, but he knew he couldn't stop. Hawke's body couldn't take a second round. With one last effort, the mage finished his spell and unsteadily slumped back on his heels.
Hawke seemed to breathe easier, but he did not wake. Carver came back to kneel at his brother's side. Between the bruises and the dried blood, he made a pitiable sight. "We need to clean him up and move him to a bed." Anders said tiredly. "Put him in mine," Leandra said quickly. Merrill came in sheepishly behind her. "She wouldn't wait anymore." Anders nodded, "Carver, we'll use the blanket." He grabbed the discarded item and together they carefully maneuvered it beneath the patient's battered body. "Take his shoulders," Anders instructed, as he stood to grab the other end. But when he did, he stumbled and was only saved from falling by Merrill's quick reflexes. "Maybe you should let someone less exhausted carry the wounded," she quipped. Anders sighed in frustration but Merrill continued, "Hawke's mother and I will each take a corner, it'll be fine." "Alright," the warden replied. "Where's Gamlen?" Carver asked accusingly. "Your uncle felt his time was better spent elsewhere," Leandra said coolly. "She means he got restless and went to the pub after saying something rather stupid," Merrill supplemented with a frown. "Of course he did," Carver grumbled, "Let's get on with it."
On Carver's count, they lifted the silent form and slowly moved him into the next room. Anders gathered some supplies and slowly followed. He came in just as they were laying Hawke down in what appeared to be the best kept bed in the house. There was a worn but decent pillow that Hawke's mother tucked in firmly behind her eldest son's head. "Merrill, can you please fetch me the hot water?" Leandra asked quietly. In her tone, Anders heard the practiced calm of a noble. He wondered what her story was. At any rate, he was glad she had thought to start a pot boiling while he worked. "Here. Clean bandages," he muttered. The graceful lady gently took the items from his hands and guided him to sit on the other cot in the corner. They locked eyes for a moment and then she said, "Thank you for everything you have done tonight." Her words were simple, but their weighted sincerity made him feel unworthy. Anders dropped his gaze."He's not safe yet," came the regretful sigh. Merrill suddenly reappeared with the steaming kettle and Leandra left to tend the hurts she could manage.
