(Moczo: I love reading peoples' reactions as they work through these fics, so watching your review chain was loads of fun! You're not the only one Kazar had a hard time winning over, and I'm glad to see you gave this one a chance anyway! :) )

9. DO NOT USE BLOOD MAGIC

Today's lesson would be herbalism, according to the Keeper, and Merrill was late. There was no way Kazar was suffering through that alone (herbalism had always been, and would always be, one of the most boring subjects on the face of Thedas), so he elected to climb Sundermount to fetch her.

It wasn't like he needed to track her or anything, because she always went up the same path. That was probably for the better: Meila and the other hunters had all tried to teach him how to track, to varying levels of hilarity. It was enough for Kazar that he was getting the hang of moving quietly through the trees. Usually by using his magic to cheat in various ways, but hey, quiet was quiet.

He was practicing that now, using the nature magic in his staff to smooth out the brambles and leaves that fell across the path. He amused himself at this for a while... until he felt a tingle of metallic power on the air that made his blood run cold.

The next moment, his demonic side surged forward as he was inundated with memories of power and glory. Memories from his own lifetime (Flemeth, the bridge at Bownammar) were interspersed with older memories of trouncing lesser beings in the Fade and teaching the arts to mortals (including Jowan). The mountainside around him lit up as he started glowing.

He closed his eyes and breathed, despite the fact that he really wanted to run forward and take the source of blood magic up ahead all for himself. Practice allowed him to separate himself from that wish, and the powerlust faded.

In its wake came a wave of temper. Oh, was he ever pissed. Someone was practicing blood magic, and there was only one mage nearby unaccounted for.

Kazar stormed up the mountain, no longer making any attempt to be quiet. He rose over a lip in the path and saw her, hunched over something with a red aura swirling around her.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he snapped, unbidden lightning flickering up his arms as he stomped over to her.

Merrill's head jerked up, her eyes going round, and the blood aura disappeared. "Kazar! Oh... uh, nothing!"

"Bullshit!" Kazar spotted a dagger next to her knee and zapped it with a burst of magic, sending it skidding away.

"Hey!"

"Blood magic?! Are you kidding me?"

Her expression hardened, and she turned back to pick up whatever she had been studying. It appeared to be a piece of glass—the artifact shard, no doubt. She tucked it into her belt pouch and stood stiffly. "I don't think that's any of your business. Marethari sent you, right? All right, let's go." And then she started swiftly down the path, like that was the end of the conversation.

The Fade it was! "Don't turn your back on me!" His Pride surged again, and he bit back a growl of frustration. Again, he had to take a moment to center himself. By the time he did, Merrill was a good forty steps ahead of him. He scurried to catch up.

"Merrill, do you have any idea the forces you're messing with?"

"Of course I do," the First said, a hard note in her voice. "I know what I'm doing, Kazar."

"No, you don't." He rushed to get in front of her and whirled to block her path. "They make promises and deals, but it's all lies. I thought you knew this!"

"That's why I didn't make any deals," she said simply and stepped smoothly around him.

"What? That doesn't make sense!"

"It was a gift from a friendly spirit."

"You don't learn blood magic from spirits!"

"I didn't make any deals." She threw him a sour look over her shoulder. "I'm not stupid."

They were nearing the camp just below, so Kazar lowered his voice, but not his venom. "That's debatable."

"I don't believe this!" They were at the edges of the camp proper now, so Kazar wasn't the only one to witness her throw her hands in the air and turn on him in righteous fury. "How could you say such things to me! I would have thought you, of all people, would understand!"

That one stung. "Yeah, I do," he hissed. "That's why you need to believe me when I say that you're making a huge mistake! Some artifact is not worth your soul!"

"My soul is not at stake." She glared, and it was like being glared at by all the angry puppies in the world. "A part of our history is, though I don't know why I expected someone like you to be able to understand that."

He hissed, his Pride surging. "You know nothing!" He knew when he started to show because he saw bows being taken up and trained on him from all corners of the camp. "You're just a naive little girl too busy playing with fire to notice your fingers burning!" He advanced on Merrill, delighting in the alarm he saw in her eyes. "I can show you the true costs of blood magic, girl, and it will give you such horrors that you'll never stop screaming!"

And then Marethari was there, in front of him, shushing him with a soothing cadence. "That is enough, da'len. Center yourself." He wavered, reluctant to blast through the Keeper, and she used that. She laid her hands on his shoulders and loomed close, so that all he could see was her. "Control. You are mortal. You are in control."

He repeated those words silently to himself, bowing his head against the Keeper's support even while his mind rebelled. He, the demon, remembered so many silly, foolish mages just like Merrill, including himself, the elf... and that was enough of a double-vision sensation for him to wrest a bit more control from the demon side.

When he finally shook it off and felt normal again, he found himself leaning into the Keeper, his limbs shaking with unsettlement and lingering anger. That, too, he stuffed down. Marethari's hands rubbed soothingly up and down Kazar's arms. That was all that kept him from collapsing, and likely all that kept the other Dalish elves from shooting him right there.

He tried to find a scrap of serenity. Or, failing that, sanity. Yeah, that was doable.

"Now, Merrill," the Keeper's voice said, "what was all that about?"

"I... um..." Her voice was high and tight in panic. Shit.

"Nothing, Keeper," Kazar mumbled, not sure why. Even so, he mustered enough control to pull away and take a step back. Bowstrings tightened all around, but Meila stood a stolid sentinel behind him, signaling her protection of his abominable ass just as Marethari had. Merrill watched him warily, her eyes wide and terrified of what the clan would do, and Kazar just couldn't throw her under the carriage like that (even if this was her fault). "I just lost my temper, and my control slipped. I'm sorry."

He knew Marethari well enough now to tell from her piercing gaze that she knew perfectly well he was lying, but she only nodded slowly. "I see. Da'len, perhaps you had best wait for me in my aravel. I will speak with you in a minute."

Kazar nodded and did as instructed, keeping his head down as he walked so he didn't have to see the entire clan staring at him. He could feel it though, in the wary hush that had fallen over the clan. He huddled in Marethari's aravel for some time, fully expecting the elves to storm the tent. Outside, there was nothing but dead silence.

That night, Marethari gathered the clan together around the campfire. There, he sat and stared at the flames while Marethari and Meila explained everything. Kazar cringed as his greatest shames (blood magic, attacking his friends, Jowan's death, and all) were laid bare before the entire community, and he could practically hear their trust of him, so painstakingly built, shatter.

"He never made any secret to me what had happened," Marethari said calmly. "I saw his genuine wish to atone, and thus I took him under my wing."

"You are certain he is not a demon in disguise, Keeper?" Paivel asked, because no one younger would have dared question her.

"Of that, I am certain," she said with utmost confidence, and Kazar winced as he stared at his toes.

"He made me promise," Meila added, "when we left the Wardens together, that were he ever to succumb, I would kill him. He was sincere in the request, as was I in the vow, and I would not expect any different from any of you should the need arise."

They were uncomfortable with it... he could practically feel their fear and mistrust. But the Dalish were trained to believe in the wisdom of their Keeper, and so they accepted it and slowly dispersed.

Kazar wasn't going to be thrown off the mountain, for now, but calling this clan a "home" was out of the question. He didn't know why that thought hurt so much.