Chapter 7

Shirl! His mind slowly processed what he was seeing. The red was spreading across her back seeping through the soft fabric of her gown. A bolt from a crossbow was lodged just under her right shoulder blade. Everything felt so numb. His mind blanked at what he was seeing. Gently, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her over. Her face was pale under her mask and her glittering amber eyes stared up at him, tears leaked from the corner of them. Her jewel like eyes roamed his face and a faint smile slipped onto her lips. "You're okay." She stated hoarsely relief and happiness flooding her features and in a flash her countenance twisted in pain.

Someone screamed and panic ensued. People ran for the exit. Some screaming, others blinding pushed to be the first out the room. Guards escorted their benefactors out of the room as quickly and smoothly as possible, but they were having a hard time reining everyone in. Alistair just stared down into Shirl beautiful face.

"Shirl!" He managed to speak her name. He brushed a lock of hair off her face. She blinked and then coughed blood flecking her lips. Alistair tore her star shaped mask away. "No," He whispered. He caressed her cheek with his thumb. No, no, no, no…this can't be happening! How is this happening?

Shirl coughed again. More blood. Heart pounding Alistair looked away. Chaos. People ran and screamed. Guards pushing and shoving, a familiar robed figure was making her away toward him through the crowd. A hand clamped down on his shoulder. He looked up and into the black masked face of a crow.

"I'll see to her. You might want to see to this crowd." Zevran said as he gently picked Shirl up from the floor. He cradled her to his chest. Blood covered Alistair's hands and was splashed across his armor. Finally guards managed to get into formation around him and Zevran. Wynne pushed her way through the crowd and came to the circle of guards who wouldn't let her pass.

"Let her through!" Alistair commanded. The guards parted and Wynne threw them all a callous look.

"Oh my, this is bad." She said coming to stand in front of Zevran and Shirl. Wynne's hands flickered to life with a light blue aura pulsing around them.

"Can you help her?" Alistair asked quickly pushing himself to his feet. He pushed down on the panic that was threatening to break through his calm façade.

Wynne nodded. "I think so, but we have to get her somewhere safe."

Alistair nodded and motioned for two of his guards. "Escort us to Lady Cousland's chambers. The rest of you," Alistair raised his voice so he could be heard of above the noise of the crowd. "Get these people out of here as safely as possible. Make certain all guests are escorted back to their rooms and estates. No one is to leave their respective areas. If anyone does make the attempt detain them for questioning."

The guards snapped to attention and then scurried off as Alistair motioned Zevran and Wynne to follow him. Walking up the steps of the dais he stepped past the throne and to the door that was located off to the right. He opened it. His mind raced as he started down the hallway. Zevran and Wynne trailed him as the guards followed their swords drawn and their eyes searching. One of the two men rushed past Alistair to take the lead watching for possible unseen enemies in the walkway.

I don't understand. If it was an attempt on the ambassador then why was Shirl hit? She was standing next to me…His steps faltered, but he managed to keep moving. That's it. It was me! Someone was trying to assassinate me. Shirl stopped them. Then she must have seen who the person was. He glanced over his shoulder at the woman Zevran carried in his arms. Shirl's rosy complexion was pale and her eyes were closed. Her chest rose and fell in deep uneven rattling gasps. She just saved my life, but at the possible cost of her own. Maker, don't let her on me. Tears blurred his vision and he looked away gazing intently at the guard in front of him. He refused to let them fall. Not now. Shirl needed him to stay strong.


After what seemed like an eternity they finally reached Shirl's chambers. Alistair shoved through the doors directly behind his guard. The room wasn't completely dark, a fire roared in the fireplace. Stepping back Alistair waited for Zevran and Wynne to walk through. He raised a hand as the trailing guard started through the door. "Stay outside. Guard the door and don't let anyone in here." He motioned for the other guard to join his fellow outside the room. As soon as he was certain the windows were shuttered and nothing was hiding anywhere the lead guard stepped outside. Alistair shut the door behind them.

He turned to Zevran and Wynne who had laid Shirl on the bed face down. Wynne's hands were glowing again as Zevran had a knife in hand and was cutting away at the back of Shirl's dress. Alistair felt helpless. He looked around for something that he could help with. He noticed the washbasin with a pitcher of water and the white towels on it. Removing his helm he dropped it to the floor as he walked over to the wash stand. Scooping up the bowl, pitcher and towels he headed over to Wynne and Zevran. The water in the pitcher was cold. He sat down the objects on the nightstand next to Wynne and headed back over to the door. Yanking it open, he ordered one of the guards to fetch Quill, bandages, hot water and towels. The guards bowed and the one started off down the hallway at a quick trot.

Slamming the door shut, he headed back over to the bed. Zevran had cut open enough of Shirl's dress that he was able to remove the upper portion away from her body. He was just starting on her chemise which was bright red with blood.

He had seen Shirl hurt before, but nothing like this. There was so much blood. Zevran's knife made short work of the under garment and he was able to pull it away from her back as well exposing her naked torso.

"That bolt has to come out before I can heal her properly. Right now I've only been able to slow the blood flow and heal some of the damage to her lung." Wynne explained speedily.

Zevran cast a quick eye over the embedded quarrel. "Hmm…I might be able to help with that. It will have to be cut out."

"What?" Alistair asked coming to stand next to Wynne. He eyed the former assassin dangerously.

"The bolt's lodged itself pretty deep. It will have to be cut out. We can't pull it out." Zevran supplied indicating with the point of his knife to quarrel sticking out of Shirl's flesh about inch under her right shoulder blade.

"Whatever we are planning will have to happen soon. Her heart beat is fading." Wynne added.

"Do whatever you can to save her." Alistair responded. "I've sent for Quill, hot water and bandages."

"Good," Wynne nodded. "Alistair, quickly strip off most of your armor and hold her down. This isn't going to be pleasant."

Alistair complied removing his armor and sword. Afterward he hopped up onto the bed and placed his hands on Shirl's bare shoulders. She was cool to the touch. He noticed. The contrast of her pale skin to his golden tan was startling to see. She's lost so much blood.

Zevran and Wynne stood off to Shirl's right side. Wynne's hands were glowing again. Zevran was cleaning his knife in the bowl on the nightstand. "It's not hot water, but it will do."

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Alistair asked of the former Crow.

Zevran shrugged and smiled his most charming grin. "I've seen my share of crossbow wounds."

Alistair stood his head. "That's not what I'm asking."

"Boys, don't even start. Alistair, right now you need to focus on holding Shirl down. Zevran, when you're ready." Wynne barked. Zevran nodded to Wynne and Alistair.

Alistair didn't know if he could handle seeing someone cut into Shirl like this. He had seen arrows broken off and pulled out of people. He still had the scar to prove that he had once been one of those people, but this was different. The arrows seemed easier and less messy whereas this procedure just seemed barbaric and cruel. Zevran had cleaned his knife and then used the fireplace to heat the metal of the blade to a red glow. He let it cool for a moment before he started digging at the edges of Shirl's flesh that the quarrel was embedded.

The smell of burning flesh hit Alistair nose like a punch. He almost gagged. But then Shirl screamed and tried to push herself up from the bed. Alistair mustered all of his strength into holding her steady. His thoughts drifted back to another time her had held her down. She had been poisoned by a Genlock's blade. The wound had only been a scratch, but he poison had knocked her out for five days straight. If Leliana hadn't administered the antidote when she did, then Shirl would have likely slipped into a coma and died. Of course not without the painful thrashing about first, she had given him a black eye. In her poisoned mind he had looked like a demon coming to torture her, she had later explained to him.

"Hold her steady, Alistair, one wrong move and she will end up damaging lung her beyond repair." Wynne snapped at him. He shook his head clearing away the thoughts of the past. Shirl needed him to stay focused.

Shirl tried to twist away from the blade. Alistair practically sat on her to keep her from moving. Sweat beaded on his forehead and dripped down his face at the effort it took to restrain her flailing body. It was a good thing Wynne had told him to remove his armor; she would have shredded herself on it. Zevran worked quickly and deftly working the blade in and around the bolt. A little trickle of blood escaped the hole but Wynne's hands were there hovering just next to Zevran's. Glowing blue, staunching the flow of blood.

What seemed like hours to Alistair, but in truth was only a handful of minutes, Zevran slid the quarrel free. He wrapped it in the towel from the nightstand and Wynne set to work repairing and closing the wound.

Shirl lost consciousness as Wynne worked. Her body going limp with exhaustion, Alistair gently eased his hands away from her shoulders. His fingers trailing the soft unblemished skin of her shoulders, she was still cool to the touch but her breathing so slowly coming back around to normal. Alistair sat back on the bed and watched Wynne work. His heart beat against his ribcage threatening to crush his chest. Inhaling a deep breath, he blew it out again trying to calm his frantic heart.

"Will she be all right?" He asked after a few minutes of silence.

"It's too early to tell." Wynne replied her brow wrinkling in concentration.

"If the assassin is worth anything most likely this bolt is poisoned. It very possible we could save her from the wound itself, but then she dies later due to poison." Zevran added darkly he looked the quarrel over thoughtfully.

Alistair pondered what to do. "I was the target tonight, not the ambassador." He stated more than questioned. He knew it was true.

Zevran nodded. "Yes, though from what I saw one of the ambassador's handmaidens was also hit. Shirl and I were prepared for the attack on you. We were not expecting the attack on the ambassador as well. I'm pretty certain it was to distract us from you. At least that is my guess." He sniffed the bolt and eyed it more closely. "Definitely poisoned."

"Really, you can tell that just by smelling it?" Alistair asked still trying to wrap his mind around the thought of someone trying to assassinate him. What would be the purpose? He was too new to his kingship. He hadn't a clue. He knew that he might have enemies, but he didn't think there was anyone angry enough to want to kill him.

Zevran shook his head. "Not always. Most poisons don't have their own definable smell. They smell like something else. The trick is in knowing what each poison smells similar too."

"Could it be the Crows?" Alistair looked expectantly at the former Crow.

Zevran shrugged. "Could be. Hmmm…interesting. I believe this poison is called 'Bloodbane'. It only takes a little drop of this poison to render a person dead after a most horrific three days of pain. The plot thickens."

"Is there a cure? And what do you mean?" Alistair asked truly curious about the assassin's logical thought process.

"Yes, but it is difficult to make. I will set about it making it immediately." The assassin stated blatantly ignoring Alistair's last question. He turned and walked away.

"Zevran?" Alistair called slipping from the bed to stand beside Wynne. The healer's eyes were focused solely on the task of healing Shirl. The elf stopped his hand on the door handle.

"What is going on? I demand to know." Alistair growled at the elf. The former Crow tilted his head catching Alistair's eyes. He sighed and turned the door knob.

"I must start on this antidote immediately. But I will answer your questions here in a couple of hours." The golden haired elf flitted out of the room in a swirl of black and gold.