So, HEADS UP. This chapter has some swearing and violence. Kind of an M rating, then? Anyway. Proceed with caution haha. Also, this is a long one. Brace yourselves.
As always, Dragon Age and its characters do not belong to me. The only thing that I own is Emma and her story.
Please read and review.
Chapter 7: A Faint Hope
Cutting, jagged, tearing.
Pain. So much pain.
Shhhh. Let it go.
Fade away.
A voice, slithering like a snake, encroaching like moss, like a disease.
Slick and vile and sickening.
"Your terrors are mine."
A shadow expanded, swallowed the world.
"And they make me strong!"
Reached for my head, through my head, into my head.
Hands grabbed and jerked and tore.
The scene tore into a new one and I fell sideways as the world shifted and now the floor was to my right. I groaned as I pulled myself up, shivering partly because of the horror I had just escaped and partly because it was cold, wherever I was at now. My confusion and fear melded and, predictably, turned into anger.
"What the hell!" I shouted. "What is this place? Why does it keep doing that?"
I looked every which way, but it was weird. It was like two images were layered on top of one another. On one layer, I saw buildings, I think belonging to Kirkwall, but on another layer was the weird place I had seen several other times, the one with green skies and land features that shouldn't be possible. It was disconcerting and it made my head hurt.
Movement caught my eye and I turned to find a mirror. It was . . . creepy looking, with jagged bordering. Curious, I found myself heading to look at it, inspecting its border until I was close enough and my eyes slid to the reflection.
A straggled sound came out of my throat.
A woman with smoky, almost purple skin looked back. She smiled beatifically and reached for me. Without knowing what I was doing, I was leaning forward. Her face instantly contorted once I was close enough and her hand grabbed my throat, choking me.
I jerked awake, panting and sweating. But I wasn't panicked or terrified as I expected to be. Instead, I was insanely calm. Which was what caused me to panic. The walls were closing in on me, suffocating me, squeezing me until I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. I shot to my feet and ran out of the house.
I stumbled until I fell onto my knees which protested the harsh treatment. Automatically, I started my breathing exercises. In through the mouth, out through the nose. Deep, deep, gotta pull the air in deep. It was just a dream. Dreams couldn't hurt me, meant nothing. Breathe, breathe.
"Emma?" Eva was by my side, rubbing my back. "Are you sick?"
I shook my head. "D-dream." I choked out.
"A bad dream? Again?" She sounded worried. "What did ya dream about?"
"I don't know." I wailed. "But it was terrifying."
Eva soothed me until I was calm and rolled back onto my heels. I wiped my eyes. "Sorry. Is it time for us to go?"
Eva gave me a look, then nodded. "Yeah. Let's wash yer face, break our fast, then head ta The Hanged Man."
"Okay."
Donovan and Eva spoke a few words away from me and came back friends once more. Donovan then left for the market, saying he ran out of something and needed more. Thank God. I didn't know if I could handle all that tension for as long as we were going to be here for.
I was happy to note, as we set to work, that I was doing a lot better today. I still cut my fingers here and there—once it was bad enough that Eva had to find bandages and wrap my hand. Eva kept shooting me concerned looks, particularly when I rubbed my eyes, but I ignored her. Not that I didn't appreciate the concern, but, come on. They were just dreams. My subconscious was probably absorbing all my fear and confusion and everything else and turning them into nightmares. It happened. I just wish they weren't quite so . . . crazy.
"Good mornin', Serah Eva. Good mornin', Serah Emma. Ya both are lookin' lovely today."
"Morning, Corff." I pasted on a smile and shot it in the young man's direction.
"So I heard from ol' Donovan that ya lost yer memory."
It was obviously directed at me, but I didn't want to take my eyes off the potato I was peeling. I nodded.
"Well, ain't that somethin'? But, hey, mehbe I got some info that ya'll find useful."
That sounded like more than a maybe. I jerked my head up. Eva was watching him just as closely. "What're ya on about?"
"Ah. Well, see, I want to tell ya more, honest, I do. But nothin's fer free."
Eva eyed him. "Corff, ya little weasel. What'd'ya want?"
Corff's eyes slid to me and I raised my eyebrows. "How about a kiss from Serah Emma?"
My mouth dropped open and Eva spluttered. But it turns out she found the proposition more hilarious than inappropriate. A blush heated my face and I scowled. "What the hell?" I muttered.
"Aw, come on. I ain't that bad lookin', am I?" He grinned and I couldn't top the smile that forced its way onto my face. I shook my head in disbelief.
"You're a flirt."
"Aw, ya found me out. Still, I'd say a kiss is fair cheap for what I gotta say."
I gave a short laugh. "Fine. Come here." I crooked a finger at him and, excitedly, he came forward.
"Emma!" This time, Eva sounded shocked.
I shot her a look, then turned my attention back to Corff. I gave him my best smile and stood up. He was certainly eager as he leaned down without hesitation. I struck with lightning speed. I grabbed his ear and twisted and he yelped as he clasped my arm.
"Yow! Ow ow ow! Why're ya yankin' on mah ear?" He wailed.
"Sorry. My kisses aren't for barter. And shame on your for thinking I'd exchange one for information."
"Okay! Okay! Leggo of mah ear!"
I gave his ear a squeeze, then let go. He stumbled back, clasping his red ear in indignation. Eva was laughing.
"Teach ya to be so randy."
"I was just askin' fer a kiss, not a tumble in the hay." He grumbled.
"Corff!"
Then Corf smiled and laughed. "But that'll teach me to be more careful, hey?"
To be honest, I was kinda apprehensive now. Would he still tell us whatever he had found out? I mean, I had only met the guy yesterday and only for a few moments. He must have seen my worried look, and his features softened.
"Don't ya fret. I'll tell ya what info I gathered despite bein' cheated on mah price." He sat down cross-legged in front of us. "Ya know Master Varric?" This was directed at Eva.
"Mostly by name'n reputation. Only saw him once or maybe twice."
"Well, Master Varric and that Hawke feller are friends. Good friends, far as I can see. Messere Hawke and his companions visit here often and I've gotten to know them somewhat. From what I can gather, that Hawke feller has that healer from Darktown."
"What healer?" Eva asked. Then she muttered, "More'n more them mages are runnin' about." Then she shook her head. "We can't afford a healer, ya know that."
"That's just it. There was rumors sayin' there was a man down in Darktown what would heal a man fer free. Never needed him, so I dun have a clue if it's true, but it appears that rumored man is with that Hawke feller now. And I heard the man is good at what he does. Mayhap he could help with what ails ya, Serah Emma. Look into that head o' yers and help ya."
The hope that swelled inside me almost made me delirious. "Really?" I breathed,
Eva looked a bit more skeptical. "Fer free? He heals fer free? I find that hard ta believe."
"Like I said, its mainly rumor, but it's worth a shot, innit? I mean, better'n nothin', right?"
I couldn't contain myself. "Where can we find this healer?"
"Well, one of two ways, I suspect. Rumor has it ya look for the lit lanterns down in Darktown and ya'll find his place of healin'."
"Out of the question." Eva stated coldly.
"Well, then, that leaves ya option two. He comes here often enough in accompaniment of Messere Hawke. But I wouldn't call his appearance predictable. Hit or miss, really. Ya'd have to stay all day ta make sure ya didn't miss him."
"Oh." I looked to Eva, but I knew that staying all day at The Hanged Man was out of the question. But then I started thinking. "Do you . . . need help around the tavern? Something I can do that will allow me to stay here all day and still be paid?"
Corff shrugged. "Always stuff to be done, but I don't hire. That's Donovan's prerogative." Then he turned thoughtful. "However, one of our barmaids went and disappeared. Hasn't been around for a while, now. Wonderin' if that man who was courtin' her whisked her away. But I'm gettin' off subject. Just ask Donovan. I'm sure he'd hire ya . . . with some persuasion."
He winked at Eva.
Eva was amazing. I have no idea how she did it, what with Donovan being so dead-set against me working as a barmaid, but he eventually gave in and was currently pouting in a corner. She smiled at me, then turned worried.
"Ya unnerstand, I won't be here with ya. I have other things I gotta do, but I'll be back 'round ta pick ya up sometime after sunset, ta show ya home." She turned to Corff, who was still rubbing his head from being cuffed by Donovan. "Ya watch out fer her, ya hear?"
Corff nodded, wincing.
She turned back to me. "Ya be careful. Men get handsy with ya, ya don't let it stand."
Um. That worried me a little, but the very idea that someone would try to touch me inappropriately set a fire in my gut. "I'll put them in their place." I promised.
Eva gave a short laugh. "I don't doubt it. Alright. I'll be seein' ya later."
With that, Eva gave me a final worried look before leaving. With her gone, I suddenly felt very small in a very big world. Kind of overwhelming, but I took calming breaths. I walked out to where Corff was currently attending to his bar. I took in the eating area. To one side was a good sized hearth and above the tables and chairs that seemed to have been placed with no rhyme or reason, were worn, torn, and ratty looking gold-bordered, red tapestries that connected to the bar. To my far left were stairs that lead to a second level. I wondered where that led to.
Geez, but this place could use some color. Other than the dull red tapestries, the place was pretty brown. To be honest, this place looked pretty run down, but in a kind of used way, not because of neglect or misuse (or maybe it did but I didn't really know what that looked like). Donovan entered behind me, covered in flour. Him and Corff told me exactly what was expected of me—I needed to deliver meals and beverages to patrons and also clean up after some, here and in the living quarters (which I learned was up the stairs).
"It gets crowded in 'ere. Ya gotta 'ave yer wits about ya, otherwise ya could dump a drink on someone's 'ead and that's bad fer business."
I nodded, taking in everything they were telling me and made sure I repeated it over and over in my head so I couldn't forget a single word. Corff told me about the policy they had concerning alcohol and drunkenness as well as the types of alcohol they served. Donovan gruffly told me that they had a three, sometime four, item menu to choose from if they wanted something to eat. Surprisingly, I got the same speech from Donovan as I had from Eva.
"Our patrons ain't the best of the lot sometimes. Sometimes they can get handsy. Yer very pretty and, well . . . ya let us know if'n anyone touches ya inappropriately. We'll get Barden to 'aul out any unruly ones. Barden is our muscle and will be 'ere shortly."
He actually looked pretty worried about me. I gave him a reassuring smile, feeling brave all by myself for the first time in a long while. "I will. Um, can I ask who I should be looking out for?"
Corff stepped in. "Well, the supposed healer is blonde. Average looking, I suppose. But there's no mistakin' Messere Hawke or Messere Varric. Messere Varric is one of'a handful of dwarves that patron this tavern. No mistakin' Messere Hawke, though. He's a big man, well-built fer a supposed mage. Got an air 'about him. Hard to explain. He acts like a jokester, but I've seen him turn fierce in the blink of an eye." Corff shivered. "Ya just stay on his good side, yeah?"
"Um, right." I remembered how, just yesterday, I had decided to avoid this Hawke guy, but here I was, the next morning, eagerly looking forward to meeting the man. Well, meeting the man he was friends with. I almost wanted to laugh.
"Alright, enough chit-chattin'. To work with ya." Donovan huffed.
Holy crap, they weren't kidding when they said it could get crowded in here. Or that I would need to learn to maneuver around so many people. People who were rowdy, despite the time of day. But I learned something interesting about myself—I was pretty sure footed and agile. More than a couple times I was sure I would fall over, but instead my body caught myself and I somehow saved myself from a bad fall.
More than a couple times a few men whistled at me or noted that I was new and pretty to look at, but so far, no one had tried to grab at me as I had been warned about. At one point, Corff waved me off to the bar and I almost had to dance to not trip over anyone to get to him.
"Sit down." He urged. "Ya look exhausted and ya've been workin' hard. Here."
He placed a cup in front of me and without thinking, I downed it. My eyes widened and watered as the liquid burned my throat and smacked into my stomach. I slammed the cup down and coughed, smacking my chest. Corff chuckled.
"What? Never had liquor afore?"
"No!" At least, not that I remembered and that wasn't saying much at all right now. After the shock wore off, I screwed my face up at the taste. "What the hell is that stuff?" I demanded.
Corff grinned. "Secret recipe of The Hanged Man."
"It tastes like shit!" I scrapped at my tongue, desperate to wipe it off.
Corff laughed harder. I hardly saw what was so funny, but then I was pulled away and was back to working. I also quickly learned something else about me—I loved to work. It took my mind off of my troubles and I got a sense of accomplishment I hadn't experienced since I woke up here. Granted, it was a temporary distraction, but it helped me feel better.
As the day wore on and I kept an eager eye out for any of the men I was looking for, I couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, I would be paid for all this. Better be more than five coins, that's for sure.
Day started slipping into night and the crowd shifted into a seedier lot. These particular patrons looked rough and like life had beaten lessons into their skin. There was one man who had a face full of tattoos. I found myself staring at the swirling images, wondering what they meant, if they meant anything at all. Here's where I began running into problems. The hem of my dress was tugged at and I nearly fell over from the unexpected resistance. I turned around, glaring, but didn't find a specific person to glare at. Huffing, I went about my business.
The next instance, someone pinched my butt. I yelped in surprise and whirled around as the man who did it laughed drunkenly. "Keep your hands to yourself!" I snapped.
Again, violent images assaulted me, but I took a deep breath and restrained myself. Butt pinching, though definitely not welcomed, was no reason to gouge out a person's eyes. Yet. I found myself dodging a lot of hands. But it was harder to dodge the words thrown my way.
I was beginning to develop a tick in my eye at my suppressed rage.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Corff watching me carefully. Somewhat reassured by this, and the fact that Barden (a mountain of a man) wasn't far off, quelled any of my fear and emboldened me. I started up the mantra, sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me over and over. I tuned out the jeers and rather rude comments and got pretty good at dodging the reaching hands, a smile pasted on my face.
As the night wore on, I was slowly starting to lose hope of seeing any of my quarry tonight. Every time someone entered the tavern, I'd perk up but be let down by what I saw. As it was, it was reaching the middle of the night and there were only a handful patrons still hanging around The Hanged Man. A couple were simply passed out drunk.
Sighing, I sat down on a stool at the bar, feeling a bit defeated.
"Hm. I'm wonderin' if Messere Varric and Messere Hawke left the city fer somethin'. Now that I'm thinkin' about it, Messere Varric hasn't been about here fer a while now." Corff mulled over.
I grunted. "Perfect."
Corff patted me reassuringly on the shoulder. "Dun be so down about it. They live in the city, don't they? They'll be back, and soon, I should say."
"Hmm."
"Emma." I lifted my head to find Donovan handing me a pouch. Realizing it was my pay for the day, I perked up and took the pouch from him. Inside, I found a few copper pieces and two silvers. "For this morning and for tonight. You did surprisingly well."
I gave Donovan my best smile, proud that I had gotten a compliment from him. "Thanks."
"Hm."
It wasn't long after when Eva turned up to collect me. Like a child, I proudly showed her the money I earned and she praised me for a good job. I didn't fail to see how ridiculous this all must look and was a little embarrassed.
"Well, we best be off." Eva announced.
Donovan waved dismissively as he left the room and Corff waved enthusiastically. "See ya tomorrow, Emma!"
I waved back and followed Eva home. Once there, Eva handed me a small box with a lid where I could stash my money supply. For some reason, though I was disappointed that I hadn't been able to talk to the healer, I found hope warming me once again. I could make it in this world. It would be hard, no doubt, but I could do it. I wasn't completely incompetent. I had people supporting me in a world that seemed intent to prey upon the weak.
Tightening my hands into fists, I hardened my resolve.
I could do this.
The next day proved to be much the same as the day before. I asked if Emma could stay and work alongside me, but Donovan had been emphatic that he didn't have enough money to hire another person. And Eva had said it was alright—she had been asked for by a noble to do some sewing. She had said that she knew how to make her way already and not to worry. Yeah, like that was possible. I worried about her the entire time I worked at tavern.
Five days passed and The Hanged Man seemed to always be busy. It was almost amusing how the shift from day to night always brought a shift of the characters that patroned the tavern. However, I didn't feel too threatened. I had gotten to know Barden, the hired muscle, somewhat. He was quiet and a mountain of a man. He made sure that I was left alone if things got a bit too out of hand—I always felt his eyes watching out for me. Last night, he had even patted me on the head, saying I was a hard worker and that I reminded him a lot of his sister. He didn't smile, but I could tell it was a compliment by his tone. I think I liked the man.
As I worked, I learned a lot, too, just by keeping my ears open and acting friendly. Apparently the Qunari weren't welcomed by something—an organization?—called the Chantry and that tensions were rising. I learned that some of the people weren't even from Kirkwall, but from other countries called Rivain or Orlais or Antiva. None of those names sounded familiar and there was a lot I didn't quite understand, but I made sure to ask all about them.
I decidedly did not like Orlais, or at least their government, at least from what I gathered by word of mouth. Antiva sounded like an . . . acquired taste. Rivain sounded incredibly exotic. None of them called to me like Ferelden did, however. I liked the majority of down to earth, if somewhat rough, people that called it home. I found myself wondering if I'd ever have a chance to go there.
Interesting information aside, I was getting fairly discouraged concerning finding and talking to that healer. Eva outright refused to allow me to go down to Darktown and I was starting to wonder if there was another reason Eva avoided the place. But I didn't push it, deferring to her judgement considering my lack of information and experience.
I was getting tired of the nightmares, though. I hardly, if ever, remembered them clearly, but I always remembered how I felt. And it was never good. I wasn't sleeping well, but I didn't let on about it. Any time I did, Eva seemed weirdly concerned about me and my dreams. And I was determined to not let it affect my work. Or at least, I tried. There were a couple times when I had narrowly avoided tipping a mug over or tripping over my own feet.
Corff expressed his concern, but I assured him I was fine.
And once again, I was disappointed—there had been no sign of Hawke or the healer or Varric. I was actually beginning to worry. Had something happened to them? I worried more because of the selfish reason that if something had happened to the healer, then there went my one chance at regaining my lost memories. To be honest, I was getting fairly frustrated with myself. Late at night, when I should have been sleeping, I would try and remember something, anything, but all I ever got was a headache.
The door to the tavern opened and, automatically, my eyes went to search out the newcomers. I froze, my heart beating so hard in my chest I thought it would break some ribs. Beardo. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. I had kinda wondered when they would pop up, but I guess I had gotten somewhat complacent since they hadn't shown themselves in the five or six days since me and Maraas had run into them. I had hoped Maraas had been wrong, paranoid even, about them. Guess not.
And of course they would come when most of the patrons had left, leaving me no bodies to hide behind or get lost in or even have as a barrier between me and them. Beardo had been saying something to a guy to his left, but when he turned his head, he immediately saw me. Recognition immediately flashed across his face, followed by a smirk and calculating look that had my gut clenching.
"Well, well, well, lookie here." He said, sounding amused. "Where's your bodyguard, girl? Got bored and left you, did he?"
Barden, who had been dozing in the corner against a wall, perked up. His eyes trailed between me, stock still, to the men who had just entered. He straightened and headed to the group of men. My stomach knotted, anxiety riddling me.
"Barden, stop." I choked out. I didn't have a good feeling about what was going to happen next. I looked desperately for Corff, but he was in the back doing something with Donovan—I think looking for something in the cellar.
Barden either didn't hear me or heed me. "If yer lookin' to start trouble, ya ain't welcome."
Beardo gave Barden an innocent look. "Just having a friendly conversation with the girl there."
Barden wasn't having any of it and stood between me and Beardo, towering over the lithe man. The bouncer scowled and a hand went to the sword on his hip. Beardo didn't miss it and for a split second a look crossed his face that made me shiver. "I can smell trouble on ya. Leave."
Any remaining patrons that could think coherently scurried out past Beardo and his gang.
Beardo smiled and raised his hands in defeat.
I took a shaky step forward. "Barden—!"
I screamed when one of Beardo's men lunged forward and drove a dagger into Barden's gut. Barden gasped, his hand drawing his sword out a fraction, before both went to his stomach, looking at it in shock. He staggered forward and grabbed onto Beardo's front, clenching the fabric in his fists. Beardo snarled, raising a fist and then slamming it into Barden's face. I watched in horror as Barden fell with a sickening thud and thrashed. Beardo was brushing off his shirt, like he was brushing off dirt.
"Barden!" I screeched, my eyes fixed on the dying man.
"Should have stayed with the Tal-Vashoth, girl." Beardo said nonchalantly.
My eyes flashed to him and a rage started burning me. "You bastard!"
He shrugged. "I've been called worse. Qunari lover or not, you'll still fetch a pretty sovereign. Even after I pay you back for my face. Boys?"
His men started heading towards me, edging around the tables. They acted like I wasn't going to fight back. Like hell I wasn't! I grabbed a chair and lunged forward at the one closest to me, slamming it into the surprised man's face. I had to make a split decision then. Head to the living area or head out through the kitchen. Seeing that trying to escape into the kitchen would put me in a convenient catching distance, I bolted up the stone steps, hearing them give chase.
I didn't know this area very well, but I didn't let myself stop for a second. As I ran through the dirty and sometimes dilapidated hallways, a high window with some barrels under it caught my attention. It was small and narrow, but it was my best bet. I clambered onto the barrels and grabbed ahold of the edge of the window, pulling myself up. That's when I found out that my arms were going to have a hard time pulling my weight up and out. Come on!
I screamed as arms wrapped around my torso, yanking me down. I flattened my feet against the wall and pushed back with all my might. We went flying and the man grunted as I landed on top of him. He still had a hold of me, though. Panicked, I slammed my head back and I heard him yell out in pain, an elbow jabbing into a soft part of his side.
"Maker's balls! Someone grab the bitch!"
Two more men leaned down and each one grabbed an arm. I flung myself around, not even thinking logically—I had completely turned myself over to my primitive side in my panic. Another man had had enough and I gasped as he threw a fist into my stomach, winding me. He hit my solar plexus, the term flying into my head. I had trouble getting my breath back and in my limp state, they drug me back to the main area as I weakly tried to drag my feet and pull back.
Wheezing, I spotted movement and felt myself pale when I saw Corff being hit over the head and collapsing into a heap. I was just glad they hadn't killed him. But then I wondered where Donovan was. Next, my eyes went to Barden. He was still, so so so still. Blood was pooled under and around him and he was twitching. My heart tore. No, no, no, no. Please, please, don't die.
Next my eyes went to a smirking Beardo and a wave anger washed over me, renewing my struggle. "You son of a bitch! How could you? How could you!"
"Easily. Now, did you really think you'd escape us? Stupid girl." He came up to me and I gasped as his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat. He tightened his hold and I found it difficult to breathe. I shot to my feet out and felt instant gratification as one foot connected with his groin.
He immediately let go of me, cupping himself as he wheezed. Just as quickly, a fist from the one of the men holding me connected with my gut. Not so satisfying was how fast Beardo recovered. His hand went back around my throat and his grip was even tighter, rage contorting his face. "Wrong move, girl." He grabbed a dagger at his hip and drew it out, placing it at my throat. I stilled as I felt the cold metal against my throat. "How should I punish you?" He wondered aloud.
I felt yet another shiver run down my spine at how he eyed me up and down.
He leered at me. "Hm. Might have damaged the goods. Gotta make sure it still works, don't you think? And who better to verify, than you?" I paled as I immediately understood. Fuck that! I started struggling again but stopped when I felt warm liquid start dribbling down my throat. "Come now. You've fucked a Qunari. If anything, you should be grateful that a man would have you after such shame. Hold her down."
I screamed as the ones holding me threw me down, my head slamming onto the floor, and restrained me. One of them yelped when a hand got too close to my mouth and I bit down, drawing blood. The other slapped me hard, disorienting me.
"Careful!" Beardo snapped. "Damaged goods don't sell as much, you idiot."
"I'll kill you!" I yelled.
Beardo rolled his eyes as his hand went to the drawstrings of his pants. "Yes, yes. Strangely, I've been threatened like that many times and yet, here I am, alive."
"Strange, indeed. You look like a dead man to me."
Beardo whirled around, brandishing his dagger. I looked past him and saw a very short, and I mean short, stout man with blond hair and . . . a lot of chest hair. He held a dagger himself, looking amused but there was fire in his eyes. Three more people stepped in behind him. But a gurgling, wet sound caught my attention and I looked at Beardo to find blood coating his lips and streaming from his mouth.
"How—?"
"Called a stiletto. So sharp and thin, it can slice through skin and between ribs and right back out and the person never knows. They bleed out internally. Just like you."
Beardo gasped, spitting blood, struggling to stand, but his legs wouldn't let him. The men holding me shot to their feet and joined their companions as they backed away, swords and others weapons drawn and aimed at the new arrivals. A soon as I was free, I crawled around Beardo and went to Barden's side. I sat up and grabbed a hold of him, turning him over onto his back, laying his head on my lap. I sobbed and pressed my hand into his stomach, desperate to stop the blood flow as his lifeless body gave its death throes.
Beardo was coughing up blood as the short man's company swiftly went to action. A very tall man—no, elf—with white hair lit up, but I had to be seeing that wrong. I had hit my head when I had been forced down and then slapped. The tall elf didn't even draw his weapon, but relied on his bare hands which bore claws, but that had to be wrong. I watched in shock, and a little bit of awe, as he easily dodged his opponents swings and shot his hand out as it glowed fiercely, piercing the man's chest. But how was that possible? How . . . ? The other man in the party—what was my eyes seeing? He wielded a walking stick—staff?—with a blade on one end, deflecting melee attacks in the most graceful and fluid manner I'd ever seen as fire shot from his outstretched hand or raced down his staff. But there was something else hovering over him, reminding me of that layered image from the nightmare not too long ago. The short man rained arrows down from a powerful crossbow while the last person, another man with gold hair and yet another staff, raced to my side.
Belatedly, I realized who these people were. Hawke had to be the man with the black hair and beard, a fierce smile splitting his face, and Varric was the short man—dwarf, I corrected myself—and the man before me, asking me something that I couldn't hear, had to be the healer. My vision was blackening around the edges and turning into pinpricks.
"Barden . . ." I think was the last thing I said before I fainted.
