Title: Snow and Ice

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sexual content, minor language, violence, blood, use of alcohol

Summary: Once upon a time, a maleficar had stopped the blight. Afterwards, she'd left for the colder North, leaving love for a life of loneliness and wandering. No one was to look for her. So why was Alistair calling her back? Zev/Surana

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Review please.

Tomorrow's turned up dead
I have it all and I have no choice but to
I'll make everyone pay and you will see
You can kill yourself now
Because you're dead
In my mind

-Man that You Fear, Marilyn manson

Chapter 4

Elda seized the moment of stunned silence to grab her staff and rip it from the leather casing. Feeling the power and adrenaline course through her veins like a drug, she called forth the power of the demon and her own. It intensified with the new addition to her staff. Ice flew from the weapon at an alarming speed, freezing both templars in front of her. The other drew her sword, but Elda stopped the woman's strike with the handle of her staff, smiling all the while. The templar increased the pressure, grunting, but it didn't move an inch. Elda threw her back and swung around with the head of her staff, knocking the woman in the head so hard the skull caved in. Blood sprayed. Then, she turned to the other two and hit them with lightning bolts, shattering both statues as if they were nothing. She stood there panting. Others would be coming. She heard shouts on the catwalks above.

Grabbing Rinna's hand, she began to run. Running was always a last resort, but even with her new power, she couldn't fight off the oncoming horde of guards on their way. She was both upset and grateful that Rinna had distracted them. The number two rule of the game was never to talk. But it didn't matter. She ducked into an abandoned house on the outskirts of the town and whispered a concealing spell. It was much like disappearing for a rogue. She could see both herself and Rinna but no one could see her.

Rinna panted behind her. She closed her eyes and stopped, pulling the child into her arms. It was not the life she wanted for her daughter. In the beginning, she hadn't wanted anything for her daughter. She hadn't wanted a daughter at all. But things had changed. She wanted to protect Rinna if it meant her death, and it probably did.

They hiked for hours in the wilderness. No one followed. Soon, Rinna fell asleep against the soft thrumming of Elda's heart as she struggled through the vines and weeds. She was used to snow and ice and jumping across chasms. Trees proved more difficult to tromp through. She also hated the snapping of twigs behind her. Every time an animal moved, she jumped thinking it might be templars. When the sun finally threatened to sink below the horizon, she could walk no more. The sun was too hot, terrain to demanding. Rinna's body was too heavy to carry. She began to glance around for a suitable spot to sleep for the night, though she didn't welcome the dreams.

A few minutes later, she came across was seemed to be an old camp. The trees were tied together to form a canopy. Leaves and lush grass grew up in a circle surrounded by the trunks. She slipped inside of it and worked her cloak off with Rinna still in her arms. After spreading it out on grass, she gently laid the child down. Rinna moaned a bit and then turned on her side. She didn't move after that.

As the sun went down, Elda gathered sticks to start a fire. The threat of nightmares always had her staying up as late as possible. She wished there were a way for her to never have to sleep again. Alas, every book she checked claimed it was impossible. It was a sad thing. She brushed a few fingers over Rinna's cheek, smiling to herself. Nothing but blood and pain made her smile anymore. The demons were influencing her emotions, she sometimes thought. Then, perhaps she had always been that way. He had always said he sensed a darker part to her personality. Not everyone could be full of sugar and rainbows.

She did something then that she had not done in nearly six years. Her burned fingers toyed with the gem in her ear, not quite feeling the smooth surface. The nerve endings were damaged, but if she squeezed hard enough, she could feel it pressing into the flesh. It was a reassurance that he still existed, a man she would never forget but would still never call to her mind. The one that gave her a daughter and her own freedom.

She unwrapped her hand and let the bandages fall. Digging in her pack for the new bandages she bought in town, she ripped off a portion and began wrapping it around the fingers all the way to the wrist. She would have to wash it later and then let some air in. She was a bloodmage, not a healer. There was no doubt in her mind that she would never have full use of the hand again. Already the blisters had burst from her vigorous activities that day. The wound simply wouldn't have adequate time to heal.

Sighing, she leaned against the reassuring trunk of a tree and closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of burning wood and trees. Fire crackled. Animals scurried. Her new markings and hand pulsated with pain. Crunching leaves and rough bark pressed into her skin. She adjusted her position and soon drifted off to sleep, wincing as the onslaught of nightmares began again, more terrifying than ever.

Later that night, Elda was on the brink of consciousness. Sometimes, it was the only way she could get any rest at all. Perhaps it was because she was so tired or because the pain from both the Fade demons and her physical shell had her practically comatose that she didn't hear them approach. She was used to sleeping right side up. Her cheek was pressed into the cool metal of her staff, one arm hanging loosely over the smoothed handle. The soldier could have snuck up behind her and put a boot to her back, shoving her face into the dying embers of the fire. But they were ordered to take her alive. A rogue elf crept up with steps that didn't make any sound. He wound a rope between his fingers and slowly slipped it in front of her neck. He was astonished she didn't feel the heat of his arms or hear the beat of his heart. She was supposed to be very vigilant. He didn't give her enough time to wake up and prove that rumor true. Instead, he jerked the rope hard across the soft flesh of her neck, choking her.

She awoke with a start, fingertips flying to her throat as the rope tightened around her windpipe. The elven rogue yanked her until she was sprawled on her back, dragging her through the grass and leaves. She kicked out, trying to force her fingers between the rope and her skin. Other soldiers surrounded the alcove. There was much screaming and kicking as they took Rinna as well. Elda felt fire form up around her hands. Trying to calm herself, she focused the flames on the rope. The fire was so intense it burned through the rope in seconds. It snapped, sending her flying forward. She somersaulted, hand darting out to grab her staff.

The rogue danced back, his face covered by a black cloak. Two knives were tied to his calves. Her head whipped around, taking in every face. It was too dark to see much. She counted seven soldiers. Then Rinna screamed again as two men grabbed each of her arms and forced her to her feet. Elda flew forward, wrapping an arm around the neck of a man whose back was to her.

"Stop!" she shrieked. Everyone froze. Her hand was poised above his head, lightning crackling. Her fingers were poised like snake fangs ready to strike. "Let her go or I'll kill the man."

He was hardly a man, more of a boy. He smelled of salt and sweat. His fear was delicious, and she drank it in. Her eyes glowed the color of blood. The rogue spoke in a gruff voice.

"We can lose one man. Can you lose one daughter?" he asked.

"Please!" the boy cried. She tightened her hold on his throat, cutting off the oxygen.

"I'll kill you all," she whispered. "Let her go and you walk free."

"We cannot do that," the rogue growled. "We were ordered to take you by force if necessary. You killed the templars, so we assume you will not come in peace."

"You're damn right!" she shouted.

The rogue's fingers twitched. She could almost see the smile on his shadowed face. "Then I'm sorry, Daniel," he said too low for anyone but her to hear. Before she could even think, his hand clasped around the hilt of a dagger and threw it. She used the boy as a human shield as he must have known she would. The dagger sunk deep into the boy's skull, nearly to the hilt and would have gone farther. She took a moment to stare in awe at the blade. No one was that good with a blade except...

A soldier's sword swung at her head. She pushed the dead body at the man, knocking him over, the tip of the sword nearly cutting her throat as she bent back. Another came from the left. She ducked his blade, landing a blow in his gut. Her hand darted out, staff forgotten, and pressed her fingers to his greasy face. Fire crackled. He screamed, the flesh of his face so easily manipulated when heated to hundreds of degrees. When he stumbled back, she let go. He didn't move away, though, and she brought her face toward his, head-butting him so he fell.

She growled in pain when an arrow landed in her right shoulder blade. Breaking it off, feeling the adrenaline numbing most of the pain, she threw the shaft to the ground as a female charged at her. Ducking around the girl, she crashed her hand into the girl's kidneys, sending her sprawling. Rinna shrieked again, and Elda whipped around, throwing a ball of glowing flames at one of the soldier's holding her. He cried out in surprise, immediately trying to beat the flames. Rinna tried to twist free, but the other soldier didn't give her a chance, catching her other wrist and hauling her over his shoulder. Rinna beat at his back but she didn't have a chance.

"No! Rinna!" Elda cried, starting towards her. Clapping from behind though caught her attention. It was a dull, monotonous clap, sarcastic and too loud in the silence. Everyone stopped, even Rinna. They were staring curiously at the rogue. Elda's nostrils flared; she swiped the hair from her eyes.

"My, my, Elda," he whispered, a bit of an accent slipping through. "You were paying attention during my lessons."

Elda froze. That accent, the smug air, the sarcastic lilt to every word. She couldn't believe it. The chances were too slim. "No..." she murmured, taking a step back almost in fear. She didn't want to see him. Didn't want him to see Rinna.

A slim hand, tanned as she remembered, pushed the lip of the hood back. Antivan sun-kissed skin had a familiar orange glow in the burning fire. She swallowed. Zevran grinned with pointed teeth, a darkness surrounding him that she didn't quite know.

"It's been too long, my dear grey warden."

With her attention focused on his face, she didn't see the slight gesture he made nor did she hear the heavy footsteps of a soldier. She did, however, feel the pain as the hilt of a sword as it thudded against her skull. No one missed the sound of her body falling to the floor, especially not Rinna, who stared in despair with tears on her face.

Elda woke up with a decidedly bad taste in her mouth. It was the taste of blood, of mortality. She spat it onto the dirty floor, glancing up through bleary vision at the details of her cage. It was an aravel, like the Dalish used, empty with bars on the window. It was also very small. Lying in a fetal position as she was, her bare feet and sore head made up the width. Her hands were tied behind her back with expert knotting. The cramping in her shoulders told her she'd been in that position for a while. Her head was thrumming with pain. She groaned when she lifted her head, letting it fall back onto the aravel floor with a thump that dulled all feeling for a moment.

There was a chain connected the bars in the window to the aravel, telling her that she wouldn't be getting out until they decided to let her out. She could hear a fire outside, men laughing. A hound barked nearby. The soldiers were obviously resting. Her hand had been attended to. It didn't hurt quite so much. The wound in her shoulder from the arrow was bandaged.

Panic struck.

Rinna had been in the care of perfect strangers for—here she glanced at the sky through the bars, raising her head just enough to see—maybe four hours. She knew the evils of human men. What if they had...? No, she couldn't think of it. It brought too much anger, too much hatred.

That was another thing that struck her as curious. Despite her anger and fury, no fire formed between her fingers. She didn't feel the pull of the Fade in the back of her mind. Even when she tried to call it to the forefront of her mind, nothing happened. The demons were even leaving her alone. As she tried to think, there hadn't been any dreams while she was knocked out either. What had they done to her?

The first thought was that they had made her tranquil while she slept, but she dismissed that theory as ludicrous the second it took form. She could feel anger and hatred and fear, after all. Secondly, she remembered that the Qunari actually leashed their mages to prevent them from doing magic. She felt the metal bar around her neck and cried out as if in physical pain. No magic at all meant she was stuck.

Zevran. She would kill him if it was the last thing she did. To betray her like that, to promise he would let her be free and then go back on his word...If it hadn't been for him, she would never have been caught. Seven men she could take down easily, but Zevran had always had a knack for making her falter when it counted.

Elda decided she was tired of laying on her side and tried to sit up. She managed, with much struggling and cursing, to put her back to the end of the aravel and sit with her hands pressed painfully against the wall. Her ankles were tied together, too, she realized quickly. The collar around her neck seemed to choke her at the new angle. Her wounds pulsed. Her head snapped up as someone jangled the chains on the bars.

Suddenly, the door swung open. A dog with painted fur came cavorting in, barking enthusiastically. Syn trotted up beside her and licked her face expertly. She couldn't push him away.

"Syn? What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to get her hands free to push his slobbering muzzle away. Syn barked exuberantly.

"I thought you could use some company," said a voice in the doorway. She tensed and glanced up, glaring at Zevran. He made himself quite at home, leaning against the door with his arms crossed. Instead of the black cloak of the night previously, he wore hardened leather armor, green trimmed with shining drake scales. The same crow daggers rested at his calves, strapped there with bits of leather. He'd cut his hair in the last six years. Instead of long strands of blonde, it stuck up in every direction like Alistair's. She was sure he wouldn't appreciate the comparison.

"Get out," she snarled. "Kill me or leave me to rot in this cage, I don't care. But I could do without your company."

He tisked. "Is that anyway to greet an old friend?"

She spat blood at his shoes. "We are old friends no longer. You have broken your promise to me, and kidnapped my child."

Zevran was not moved. He retained the same lightness to his tone. "You refused to be summoned. Alistair's soldiers were a bunch of blundering idiots. They'd never have found you. I've been training this particular bunch for over six months now." He cast a glance over his shoulder. "They are not perfect, but they have gotten used to following an elf. This job...well, it seemed a marvelous chance to winnow out the weak."

Lips twisting in a look of pure hatred, she said, "I've no interest in excuses or reasons, but I will ask you this only once, old friend. Where is my daughter?"

He raised an eyebrow. A smirk pulled at his lips. "Ah, yes, Rinna. I'd never have thought you would cry out that particular name."

"Where is she?" she demanded. Syn quailed under the wake of her fury, lying down between the elves. He had never seen his master so angry, especially around Zevran.

With an almost lackadaisical sigh, he stepped out of the way so she had a clear view of the camp site. Rinna was playing with a strange toy by a few soldiers, tongue sticking out of the side of her mouth. A bunch of baby hounds romped around her feet. One of them had chomped down on her cloak and was pulling.

"Do you remember that puzzle box you once gave me? From Denerim, I believe. Rinna has taken a special interest in it," he muttered, gazing at her fondly. "She's almost finished with it. The child is much smarter than I am."

Nearly sick with relief, Elda sank against the wooden aravel wall. "Thank the Spirits," she whispered. She closed her eyes.

Zevran laughed softly. "Did you think we would kill her? Had you not put up such a fight in the first place, everything would have gone much smoother, my dear."

She swallowed. The action was slightly more difficult with the choker about her neck. "You attacked first," she countered.

"Wrong," he said, taking a few steps toward her and crouching to scratch at Syn's ears. "You attacked first, my dear. The templars you slaughtered and butchered carried a summoning letter."

"Ah, wrong, actually," she snapped. "The templars attacked me first. I only killed them in defense."

To her surprise, Zevran grinned a bit sheepishly. "Well, that might have been my doing. After Alistair ordered them to find you and summon you, I had a feeling you might not come quietly. I intercepted and told them it might be wise to capture and explain later. As we have done here. It proved much more effective the second time around, no?"

"Bastard," she ground out between clenched teeth.

"Speaking of Alistair," Zevran said pleasantly, "he would not appreciate our keeping you in an aravel like a prisoner. So, my grey warden, I wish to ask you. If we let you out, will you play nice?" He stood up very tall. She suddenly felt rather small.

"Touch me and I'll bite your hand off," she said before he could even think of undoing her ropes.

"Later," he winked. "As erotic as that sounds, I will take that as a 'no.' Too bad. I could do with some fun in my daily life. We were never short of that when you were around." Funny, he almost sounded wistful.

"When I slaughter you all tonight in your bedrolls, you will wish you had let me alone," she promised, a maddened glint in her eye. He wondered faintly just how much of a hard life she had in the wilderness to have gotten so bloodthirsty so quickly. Of course, he didn't exactly find it unattractive.

He smirked while his back was turned. "We are moving again soon. I pray that you do not get motion sickness." With that, he shut the door. Syn whined softly at her feet, turning his head to the side so it rested against the soft leather of her shoes.

"I hate him," she told the mabari. Syn barked in reply.