Day Eight

So I suppose I should record what happened between that cave and our making it back to the ship. Rigger and the rest of my men deserve that much. Still bloody surprised about it all, though.

Gus and Neddic and Hawke and I only slept a few hours before we set out again. It was bright and hot out, but stalling in that cave until nighttime would have given the Wardens plenty of time to track us down. We took off at a run in the direction of the shore. I positively hate running, by the way. All that sweat and exertion and all you get is distance. At least the sweat and exertion on a ship feels good against the wind. Plus it looks pretty. And, of course, there are other fun things that involve sweat and exertion. That's another story, sadly.

Long story short, the Wardens caught up to us; they have horses, after all. I felt the galloping in the dirt before I heard it, and then something hot and sharp gripped me so tight my legs gave out and I collapsed. Sparks were still zapping my body when the mage on horseback dismounted. Gus and Neddic only had the knives I gave them in the last fight, so they were ill-prepared to deal with a mage. The both of them dove out of the way of a blast of fire. My goddamned body wouldn't move. I was forced to watch which, in almost all situations, is more frustration than fun. Hawke stabbed her staff into the ground, sending up spikes of ice under the Warden mage's feet. He was knocked over, but there were others now, dismounting and charging at Hawke with swords and shields raised.

And then it happened: there was a familiar blast, kind of like the sound of a whip but more airy, and the charging Wardens were swallowed up by a flying net. They tripped over each other and crashed on the ground. The Warden mage was distracted by his comrades' sudden fall from glory- ha! That's a good one. Anyway, that split second was all it took for Neddic to flick that knife I gave him through the air, embedding it in the mage's skull. A man after my own heart.

By then, I was finally able to move some. I got on my knees, breathing heavily because lightning is goddamned terrible, and saw the owner of the infamous projectile net launcher: Rigger. There's a reason we call him that. Never thought his gadgets would come in so handy, though.

"Andraste's swollen nipples," I laughed, my voice a little tinny from the shock, "I could kiss you boys." Behind Rigger were two other of my crew, the Vests I like to call them on account of their ridiculous red satin vests. They won an entire cartload of fancy vests in a gamble with a drunken merchant. Poor merchant, if you ask me, but also the fun kind.

"Well, I might like that, Admiral," Rigger guffawed through his chipped, dingy teeth. What a terrible flirt that mouth makes.

The boys behind him sauntered over to the ensnared Wardens and delivered a spiteful kick to their backs. I was all for it— wanted to join in, actually— but I saw Hawke bristle in the corner of my eye.

"Thanks for the rescue," Hawke forced out, "but don't do that." There was plenty of bite in the command, but I suppose the boys were too ignorant to shit themselves proper when threatened by a seriously dangerous woman. They gave Hawke a look I really didn't like. It's that look a drunk and belligerent man gives a barmaid who's just challenged him. I took a step forward, boots beating on the dirt. They glanced in my direction and must have been reminded of how beautifully terrifying I can be— yes, that must be it— because they immediately stepped down.

I went to Hawke's side and placed my hand on the small of her back— an apology. I watched her hand go to her belt where she kept a knife. I know that damned fool woman was considering cutting the Wardens loose, even after they just tried to kill us. Again. But she decided against it, and I was relieved. Really need to work on that girl's survival instincts.

To say I was shocked that Rigger rescued us and that he announced my return to the ship with a cheery "The Cap'n's back!" would be an understatement. We aren't pirates because we love oaths and loyalty. All of the people on that ship sail and fight for a sense of adventure and gold— which we use to buy tits and cock and ale. The seas are a tumultuous place. Ocean's a moody bitch, and she'll flip your rig upside-down if you don't know how to navigate her tantrums. Moving up in a world like that's hard, and I had given Rigger quite the promotion before disembarking. The fact that he just handed captaincy back to me, though...

That, and of course having Hawke back, I've started to feel positively giddy- giddier than that time in the Hanged Man when Hawke's fingers were playing under my tunic right in front of everybody. Damn, I'm a kinky bastard.

Got to leave it at that. Navigator's calling me up. Will write about the last few days with Hawke later— it'll be kind of like writing smut. Might send it to that seeker Varric wrote about.