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Chapter 7

Bridge Over Bloodied Waters


"He's not here." Bel commented as she rested against the stone rail, peering down into the dried dusty land. Frost covering the mud.

Tessier shrugged and stretched, "It's fine, it's still night. He left a message for where to head if he's delayed."

Bel hummed disinterested, "Did he say how long?"

"No."

The two stood in silence just listening to the howl of wolves. Tessier finally breaking it, "You want him don't you?" She observed eyeing the moody woman. She knew her fellow mage well enough.

"I already have him, he just has not realized it yet." Bel laughed, pulling out a dagger and playing with it. She had snuck it from Zevran's bag.

Tessier laughed loud into the night, Bel turned to furrow her brows at her friend. Tessier wheezed, "Oh, you don't have him! I fucked him against the mill as soon as you left when we reached the village."

This caused fury to build in Bel. She slit her arm and let blood pour, "You fucking bitch!" She cursed letting her power manifest. The bubbling blood magic dancing around her skirts, the tainted red bathing the white stone black from the dim light barely glowing with the power from the two mages. Tessier smirked bitterly at the blood mage. Her blonde hair dancing with the static power and elemental winds she conjured as protection.

"Oh come now Bel, don't be angry, it was just a bit of fun, I'm sure he'll do the same for you... If he ever wants you again after having me." Tessier cooed in tease, truly she was sick of Bel, sick of how she clung on to the first thing that had crossed her path, sick of how she eyed Lothering with excitement, not for freedom but for a rogue elf.

Bel sneered at the dramatic display her blood shooting out from the whirlwind of anger, the dark red twisting into Tessiers magic. The blood weakened and separated to splatter along the ground. A bolt of lightning flicked from Tessier's fingers while dark black and red flames were fired into her. The fire singed her outfit and burnt her skin but she did not loose her concentration. Her magic struck again and again. Bolts clashed around the bridge, walls of rock, flames of fury and Tempests of chilling anger struck the area. Bel couldn't keep up, her blood loosing she tried harder, reached deeper. Just when she was about to give in completely to her demon Tessier rushed forward, a blade in hand she plunged the tip into her friend's belly, a merciless smile smug on her face, "You could have been mine." She whispered enviously to her fellow mage. Leaving her knife in the body, she stared at the blood bathing her hands, so warm and rich, and Bel's, and what had she done? Her eyes darted around before she picked up her skirts and ran for camp. Morning light spread across Bel's cheek, the frosty air of Winter's end chilling her dead, pale skin.

Just as the skirts of the young mage fluttered with her departure, another made their way to the blood stained bridge, several others in fact. Two Dwarves, one old one young with their fat moaning Oxen still lazily chewing on the hay from it's last reward. Behind them buildings began to burn and screams began to be heard. Sandal, the youngest with light blond hair cut short in waves to his head, beardless with stunning blue eyes that melted the heart, clung to Bodahn's side. Bodahn was old with a well kept beard plaited in two spikes that met together in two dark orange lines. His face was marred with many lines but his were of a gentle nature, crafty as any drawf of course but eyes of a gentle father. He cuddled his boy to him as he guided the lazy ox with one arm, sitting on the wooden seat. He didn't dare glance back, couldn't, he had to get the ox moving out without knocking the explosives in the back or drawing attention of the attackers in the night. He could just smell the darkspawn amongst the flames. Sandle whimpered next to him, burying his head in his elder's shoulder, "Burning."

"That's right my boy and that's why we have to be quite." He whispered gently rubbing Sandle's arm softly with his large rough hands. So concentrated on the exit to the village was he that the elder dwarf failed to notice the Genlock crawling over the side of the building with the use of a ladder. The rumble of war drums beat on the distance as the creatures claws at the side of the bridge. Trickling in, dim in number but no less terrifying. The Genlock tumbled off the stone rail in front of the oxen who through it's long sharp horns at the blighted creature. The Genlock's short ugly twisted body was flung back over the bridge to land with a thump but the damage had been done. The ox reared back, one of the explosives tumbled and rolled away from the cart down the bridge way until it smashed into the stone rail, exploding on contact with the weakened glass from the fall. The dwarves had been lucky that it had held out, lucky that Bodahn had half a mind to put the mix in thick dark bottles usually used for liquor. Still with all that tossing and turning it had been enough. Bodahn covered Sandal before grabbing the bag before any more explosives could fall, just barely catching one crafty bottle from slipping off the edge. The explosion alerted the Darkspawn. Their vicious roars growled from their lips as they made their way up the ladders and onto the bridge walkway, their bloodied, muddied armour dripping filth onto the dusty cool slabs. The light of day did nothing to help with the sight, but Bodahn wasn't one to wish to even see the creatures in the darkness, they reeked, they were ugly and tainted and going to kill them both. Bodahn cried out, "Somebody help us!"

It was then like a gift from the Maker, or in this case Ancestors as a group of adventurers intervened. Alistair rammed his shield into the nearest Hurlock, his sword stabbing downward into the creature's throat before it could recover. Blood spurting up across the blade.

Daylen went for the Hurlock Emissary, a beast with lips turned up to it's rotted nose and feathers in it's putrid hair, firing magic of all things onto them. Zevran followed the leader, hacking down all that intervened with twin blades. Why? It would have been easier to let the beasts kill them but he did not wish for the taint to win, even he was not one to support the taint. Only a fool would be. So he killed for the man that may one day face blades with him while Leliana, Morrigan, Sten, and a Mabari joined the fight.

Meeting his blade against a Darkspawn staff Daylen left a notch in the black dead wood, the sharp end struck up to bash against Daylen's thigh, the Hurlock Emissary laughing, showing it's blackened teeth to the Warden. With annoyance and a sneer Daylen pushed his weight on unlatching his sword from the wood. His Dagger cutting up and stabbing into the creature's stomach only to be caught in leather. Daylen left the blade there using it to shove the creature back, sweeping with his leg he dropped his sword, grabbed the staff and snapped it down on the Genlock's neck. The wood crushing the windpipe of the twisted. With an ending gurgle the Blighted Darkspawn was dead, Daylen rose to observe what remained but saw only corpses. The small group of Darkspawn easily defeated by the bold skill and number from the group.

"Mighty timely arrival there, my friend. I'm much obliged." Bodahn thanked the group while horridly getting the cart in order, his eyes darting back to the village, dark clouds hanging in the sky, hiding the sun and sunny light that should have blanketed the little village. Instead there was people screaming, packing, burning buildings and panicked running.

"Don't menti-..." Daylen's voice drifted out of hearing for Zevran as he spotted the body amongst the darkspawn, the mage staff and clothing familiar to him. He knelt by the body, turned the limp cooling form over to find his suspicions correct. Bel. Zevran shrugged with little care for the mage, death happens after all. He tugged at her robes and rummaged through her pockets finding a note. The staff had be cracked by the Oxen's hoof, useless, as was the clothes by blood, mud and filth. Perhaps he was harsh, perhaps he should give more of a damn, but she was nothing to him, he had lost more.

"The name's, Bodahn Feddic, merchant and entrepreneur. This here is my son, Sandal. Say hello, my boy." The dwarf gestured to the younger, his eyes darting back to the wagon.

"Hello." Sandal greeted cheerfully and simply.

"Nice to meet you both," Daylen greeted with a smile, he patted the boy's head as he passed, Barkspawn bouncing up to the young Dwarf to give his face a lick. "I would gladly escort you if you need it? The area will be very packed soon." He commented as he walked to get the oxen straightened for the dwarf. He would do that much even if the dwarf did not wish for his help any more.

"Thank you, come on my boy get up on the wagon!" Bohdan urged as he hopped up himself. Daylen tightened the straps that held the Ox and guided the beast with a firm hand. Zevran stood to find they were to lead the dwarves to safety. He climbed onto the back of the wagon on top of several stacked crates with a grease cloth over the top. Riding on a cart was much better than wearing out his leathers in the frozen muddy land. Daylen however chose to walk for whatever reason, Morrigan seated herself up on the back of the wagon with Leliana. Alistair on the opposite side of the Ox than Daylen and the Mabari scouting ahead. Sten trailed the wagon with bored eyes ever the talkative one Zevran felt so protected and not at all intimidated, of course this was sarcasm, Qunari had always made him watchful. He supposed that was a good thing considering his circumstances. From the viewpoint he was out he could see the Mill now burning, the remaining villagers scrambling. The Templars were helping the youth and the Chantry sisters and mouther out before the bulk of the horde appeared.

They left Lothering with the smell of burning wood and darkspawn blood in their nose, with their cheeks dampened by the morning dew and perspiration from battle.