Penalty of Ambush

Leliana

Burrow howled and I turned towards the sound. Salem's swords were at her side as she walked to Morrigan. I admired the grace of her figure, remembering, what seemed so long ago, how she protected me during the furious outpouring of darkspawn from the forest. I did wish that there had been time for the others to don their armor, however. I knew all too well what even a dull blade could do to exposed flesh.

What is she doing? I wondered as Salem reached out with lightning reflexes, grasped the witch of the wilds by her hair and threw her backward, behind the warden. Burrow howled again and I stared in shock as a hurlock burst from behind a boulder, roaring. Salem lifted her blades, but it was too late. A splash of crimson seared my vision and a horrific scream peeled from Salem's lips.

It was guttural, raw, and filled with so much pain that I found my own body aching. Without thought, I began running towards them. A blast of frigid air changed the temperature as Morrigan drove a spike of ice through the hurlock's chest. It fell backwards and I cried out. She had to arrest its fall or…no…the sword ripped upwards into Salem's body before at last pulling free with a dreadful, sucking noise.

No! My thoughts screamed. The blade was slowing the bleeding and she's been pierced clean through! We don't have much time!

I skidded to my knees beside Salem. She lay face down in the dirt, a scarlet stain spreading much too fast across her back, staining her shirt. The same was true of the earth beneath her…a rapidly spreading pool of blood terrified me. I grasped her shoulder and hip, rolling her over as gently as I could. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes pinched shut and she moaned as I eased her back against the ground.

How is she still conscious!? I wondered. The pain alone is enough to make someone faint!

"Salem!" I cried her name, tapping her cheek, hoping to see some sign of awareness. "Salem, stay awake! Look at me, damn you! Look at me!"

Her eyelids fluttered and my heart skipped a beat. The silver-blue was filled with pain and anguish, but I could swear there was a light in her gaze as she looked at me. What terrified me the most was that I did not see even a glimpse of terror in them. If even that, the all-important survival instinct, was gone, then Salem did not have long. She needed a healer.

"Wynne!" I screamed for the mage.

At the sound of her name, Salem's eyes flared wide and I saw true horror in them. It did not make sense to me. The horrible injury dealt her did not cause her worry…but the sound of a healer's name did? Her eyelids fluttered again and I had no time to ponder my questions. It something was not done soon, I would never receive an answer from Salem Cousland ever again.

"Salem, look at me." I pleaded with her, hoping that she could remain conscious.

I have seen the sleep of death too many times. It is difficult to draw one from it, no matter the skill of the healer. She must remain awake. I cannot lose her! Wait…what…we cannot lose her.

I lifted Salem's legs at the bend of her knees, attempting to keep what blood she had left nearer her heart. I could feel her shivering already. Shock would come soon, and she could slip away. I did not know where Wynne was, but I had to try to stop the bleeding. I rested my hands over the gaping gash, feeling Salem's blood drench my hands.

"I am so sorry." I whispered to her, dreading the thought of causing her more pain than she was already in. "This will hurt."

With no further pre-amble, I pressed down on the wound. Salem's body went rigid and her lips opened in another horrific scream. The sound, so guttural and desperate, tore at me. I could not bear the sight of someone in so much pain, especially not someone who…someone who had gone to great lengths to be a friend to me. The sound ended, followed by a breathless, helpless whimper. It stuck in my gut, twisting the muscles and spreading the ache.

I felt the heat of another person beside me and saw a flash of white hair. In a calm, even tone, Wynne spoke.

"When I tell you, Leliana, remove your hands."

I watched as Wynne's brow creased in concentration, and the blue swirl of healing magic wrapped about her hands. I could see concern in her watery blue eyes, and I shared it. Salem's skin was pale as bleached bone, sweat already stood out on her forehead, and her breathing was much too shallow.

Please, Wynne, please. I have seen healing magic do wondrous things. Please save her. Please.

"Now." Wynne ordered, and I pulled my hands away.

The senior enchanter's replaced my own and the blue mist of healing poured into Salem's open wound. I clenched my jaw and prayed that the Maker would aid in Salem's healing. I watched the wound as Wynne wielded her magic, my breathing easing as the bleeding began to slow. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes…until Salem's back arched and she shrieked. Her eyes were locked open and in them I saw the purest agony I'd ever witnessed.

Salem's fingers clawed into the ground, her body thrashed, and the sound of her cries rent the air. Wynne kept pouring her magic into the wound, muttering under her breath. The bleeding stopped, but the skin refused to close for Salem's writhing. I pressed my fingers against the pulse point at her wrist…it beat much too fast…intermittently as well. This did not happen until…until…

"Wynne, please!" I could hear pain in my voice…my own pain at watching Salem suffer. "Please, she is in agony! Can you not use just enough? Just enough to save her!? She sounds like she's dying!"

Wynne's brows lifted and she stopped the flow of magic. Immediately, Salem's cries ceased, but her body still shuddered with pain. She'd bitten through her lip in her pain and I reached up, wiping away the bright bead of blood. Salem's eyelids fluttered again, but she kept them open, and her gaze rested on me. I wanted to see the terror and pain in them erased.

"We cannot stay here." The qunari rumbled behind us. "Not where this foul magic obscures the warden's senses."

Wynne shook her head. "Moving her in this…this half-healed state is ill-advised. I've only managed to stop the bleeding. She shouldn't stir until the wound is closed."

Salem's lips parted and she managed to gather the strength to speak. "Move…out."

"Salem," I countered, speaking softly. "You cannot risk your life for this. We can post a guard. We'll stay safe. You can't be moved."

"Have to." She mumbled and her lips curved up in some…odd and dark smile.

"She said to go." Alistair's voice broke the silence. "I will carry her and we will move slowly. Just to a place where this magic isn't fouling everything up."

I wanted to protest, to argue. I could still see the gaping puncture in Salem's body. It no longer bled, but if she were moved, the magic's work might be undone. She could not afford to lose more blood…she was already too pale. Alistair knelt down beside her and I saw her tense, anticipating further pain.

"Please, close your eyes." I whispered as Alistair fitted his arms beneath her body. "You do not need to feel this. You do not need to suffer."

Still, she did not close her eyes. Instead, she held them open as if forcing them to remain so, as if she desperately needed to see us to safety. I did not understand…I did not understand why she ran into the ambush first, why she pulled Morrigan behind her…

Alistair lifted Salem and she cried out again, a prolonged scream of anguish that, at last, drove her into unconsciousness. Her body sagged in Alistair's arms and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She would not have to feel the pain for a short while. I fell in step behind Alistair, scouring my memory for any myths or legends that might have told of one who suffered from the touch of a healer's magic.

"It is very odd indeed." Wynne mused, her eyes riveted to Salem, refusing to look away.

"What is that?" I asked.

"Salem and the witch have scarcely exchanged a civil word since I've known them." Wynne replied. "Yet she pulled Morrigan out of danger and took the blow herself. It is strange."

Yes, I mused, yes it is. In fact, it makes no sense at all. Burrow alerted all of us to the potential danger. Morrigan was beginning to move, and she might have evaded the hurlock…why did Salem feel the need to step between them? If she wakes, I will have to ask her…if…if…the word sounded in my mind like a death knell, but I had witnessed people die of less worrisome injuries. Even a galaxy of hope could not make me say "when."