Anders narrowed his eyes and gestured dismissively, and the arrow shattered harmlessly against an invisible shield. The blond apostate cocked his head to one side and raised an eyebrow at the Dalish hunter.
"That the best you can do?" he sneered as he stood up and tugged the hem of his jacket straight. He inspected the nails of his right hand thoughtfully, then slowly smiled as he straightened his fingers one at a time, blue-white sparks of electricity dancing over his fingertips.
"My turn."
He flung his arm out suddenly, gesturing flamboyantly as the raven-haired elf drew a pair of blades and leapt down towards him. The lightning bolt struck the elf square in the chest, and he convulsed in agony as he fell towards the talus slope, back arching as he screamed. He skidded several feet across the loose scree surface, sending rocks and stones scattering down the slope towards the mage and the unconscious werewolf. Anders casually threw up another shield as he gathered power for another spell.
But the Dalish was made of sterner stuff than the mage had accounted for; he recovered swiftly and was up on his feet again in moments, and advancing towards the apostate with a murderous gleam in his eyes.
Anders closed his eyes briefly as he channelled the mana into a fire spell. It was harder without his staff to focus the power through; everything took that little extra effort, more concentration to direct. He murmured the words softly to himself as he wove the spell, flames wreathing his hands as he opened his eyes and unleashed the fireball directly at the Dalish hunter's tattooed chest as he lurched to a halt too late to avoid the blast.
The apostate recoiled a little as the stench of burning flesh wafted back over him, but raised his hands ready to cast again though already the toll of casting was telling on him, draining him steadily. He had no choice however; somehow, the elf was still moving. He'd retained his grasp upon his sword and though gravely injured, his face and chest a horrendous mask of red raw flesh and charred black skin, still he lunged for the mage even as Anders gestured and encased his legs in ice.
Near exhausted, Anders dropped to his knees beside Fenris, even as the Dalish elf screamed in mingled agony and frustration. The ice spell would only hold the elf for so long, and the mage was running low on energy. Yet as the elf fought to free himself from the ice, Anders reached inside himself for the power for one last spell. He raised his hands...
And blinked dully in surprise as the elf shuddered and then slumped, two crossbow bolts protruding from the gory remains of his chest. Anders lifted his gaze beyond and stared at Varric, whose expression mirrored his own.
"Blondie, you're one hell of a sight for sore eyes," the dwarf exclaimed as he stomped along the margin of the talus field towards the apostate, Hawke and Merrill picking their way cautiously over the unstable slope behind him.
Anders blinked, then abruptly slumped as the adrenaline and exhaustion caught up to him all at once.
"Anders, you're alive! Thank the Maker," breathed Hawke as he hurried past Varric to drop to his knees and pull the slender apostate into a bear hug. Anders submitted without complaint, letting his head drop to rest against the warrior's shoulder. Merrill grinned and clapped her hands delightedly with a little squeal.
"You see Varric? Hawke was right - they're both alive! They're OK!" She bounced excitedly then stumbled on the uneven surface.
"Yeah yeah, Daisy, Hawke was right and I was wrong," Varric groused good-naturedly as he helped her back up. "Watch your footing there, you could set the whole lot sliding if you're not careful."
Anders was oblivious to their chatter; he allowed Hawke to hold him for a few moments before he reluctantly pulled away. "Fenris," he murmured quietly. Hawke glanced down at the white-haired elf, and then muttered an oath under his breath as Anders crawled back to the elf's side and reached out a hand to gently stroke his pale cheek. Then drawing a deep breath, Anders laid his hands upon Fenris' barely-stirring breast and closed his eyes, letting the magic flow down into the broken body before him and carrying his senses with it.
After a moment, he began to speak as he felt his way through the elf's body, his voice clinical and detached. "Arrowhead lodged in the right lung, penetrated up from beneath the bottom rib. Lung filling with blood. Spinal trauma. Ruptured spleen." He tilted his head slightly as he paused, then went on. "Second arrowhead embedded in right thigh, trauma to femur. Left femur fibula and tibia broken. Crush damage to left foot." He turned his head blindly towards Fenris' face. "Basilar fracture of the skull... posterior... left occipital..." His eyes opened and he stared down at Fenris' face as he began fumbling through his belt pouches. "Lyrium... I'm going to need lyrium," he muttered.
"The arrowheads are going to have to come out," said Hawke quietly. Anders nodded as he pulled out a small blue vial. "I'm going to stabilise him as best I can before we try to move him," he replied as he uncorked it, then he knocked back the draught swiftly. Pooling mana in his hands, he cradled Fenris' unconscious face between his palms then closed his eyes as he sent healing magic surging through the elf's body.
As the mage worked silently on the elf, Varric slung Bianca back in place across his back and knelt down on the opposite side of the elf. He began to slowly, carefully dig the rocks and loose shale away from around Fenris' limp form. After a moment, Hawke began to do the same as Merrill crept to Anders' side and quietly laid his staff on the ground beside him before digging out two more vials of lyrium from her own pouches. She watched him intently as he worked, and when his energy started to flag she was ready, pushing an opened vial into his hand. He downed it without opening his eyes, plunging straight back into the work of healing.
Finally he let his hands fall. "I've done all I can for now," he said wearily. "He's as stable as I can make him, but we need to get him somewhere safe so that I can remove the arrowheads and finish the healing."
"We'll take him up to the Dalish camp," said Merrill.
"What? Are you mad?" exclaimed Anders. "It was a Dalish elf who was doing his damnedest to kill Fenris, in case you'd missed that bit! What makes you think they'll welcome him in - particularly after we killed one of their hunters?"
"He's kinda got a point there, Daisy," agreed Varric. "Opinion seemed to be pretty much divided back there - half those hunters were ready to charge off after Kuriel's brother there -" he jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the Dalish elf corpse, "- whilst the other half wanted nothing to do with it. What are they going to think when we walk back in there with a wounded elf and then dig a couple of Dalish arrowheads out of him?"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Hawke. "Kuriel's brother shoots at a wolf then takes off after it, claiming it's a werewolf. Then does his best to kill Fenris, who happens to coincidentally have a couple of Dalish arrows in him? Am I missing something here? Since when is Fenris a werewolf?"
"Since long before he came to Kirkwall," replied Anders quietly.
"You knew?" said Hawke incredulously. He nodded, not looking up as he set about dressing the arrow wounds and bandaging the unconscious elf.
"How long?" asked Hawke quietly. Anders frowned as he tried to work it out, counting upon his fingers.
"I... I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I'm not sure how long I was unconscious... three? four days, maybe? Since the night we stayed in the cave on the beach on the Wounded Coast with those people we rescued from the slavers."
"Where that brown-haired girl took a shine to you?" asked Varric. Anders nodded.
"A big silver wolf killed the slaver who grabbed her. I thought it was going to go for the girl at first, so I - I hit it with my staff." He fingered his own cheek, eyes distant. "Then it went for the slaver, and I took the girl and ran. When Fenris came out of the forest behind us, he still had the slaver's blood on his hands and face... and a bruise on his cheek." He glanced up. "Where I'd hit him. That's when I knew."
Varric gave a long, low whistle. "Well I'll be a nug's uncle... so that'swhat's been going on between you two? You knew, and he knew you knew - that sort of thing?"
Anders nodded. "And he worked out that I'm afraid of wolves," he added softly.
"So that's why you don't like Dog?" guessed Hawke.
Anders nodded again.
"Well, that explains a lot," remarked Varric. "But we're still no nearer to deciding what to do. There's no way we'll make it down off this mountain with Broody before nightfall, and I don't rate his chances if Blondie has to operate on him in a tent or cave somewhere. It seems we don't have a lot of choice."
"Varric's right," said Hawke. "We've got to try the Dalish."
"I'll talk to the Keeper," Merrill said quietly. "I know she'll listen to me."
"Anders?" asked Hawke as the apostate stared at his hands. Anders shrugged.
They carefully wrapped Fenris warmly in blankets, then laid him on another blanket and between the four of them, slowly and steadily made their way back up the mountain towards the pass that led to the Dalish camp.
"One thing I don't understand, Anders," said Hawke as they made their way through the pass. "Justice."
"What about him?" asked Anders warily.
"You were exhausted, just about ready to drop when we showed up. Why didn't he appear? He would have wiped the floor with that Dalish hunter without breaking a sweat!"
"Justice... does not approve of Fenris," replied Anders. "Even though he saved my life. He thinks he is a... dangerous distraction."
Hawke stumbled, distracted, as he stared at the mage who was staring down at Fenris with an odd, almost wistful look. From behind Varric chuckled. "Oh-ho, do I detect a little frissonin the air between a certain mage-hating elf and a certain wanted apostate?"
"It's not like that!" protested Anders, glancing back over his shoulder at the elf.
"Oh? Then what is it like?" asked Hawke in a pointed tone. Anders glanced at him, his expression flustered as a blush crept slowly up his collar.
"He saved me. I'm grateful to him for that. It's... that's all there is. Nothing more than that." He glanced away, his eyes troubled.
"I think it's very sweet," Merrill remarked to no-one in particular. Anders' face went even redder.
As they emerged from the pass, Hawke lifted his gaze to the aravels ahead, and he slowed down. The others, forced to slow with him, lifted their heads to follow his gaze, and beside him Anders groaned. "This does not look good," he muttered to Hawke, and the others had to agree with him.
A group of Dalish hunters stood waiting for them, armed and ready. They stared at the group with open hostility, and Kuriel the dark-haired hunter stepped forward and deliberately spat onto the ground towards them. Then he pointed at their burden.
"You carry a cause of enmity between us, Hawke," he called in a challenging tone.
"Funny," said Hawke. "I thought we were carrying our friend."
There was a scattered muttering from the other hunters and Kuriel scowled. "Leave the werewolf here and you may depart in peace."
Hawke motioned to the others to lay Fenris down as he lowered his corner of the blanket to the ground. Anders stared at him with frantic eyes as he crouched next to the unconscious elf. "Hawke, what do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "You can't give him up to them - I won't -"
Hawke smiled and winked at him, then stood and turned to face the hunters as he unslung his greatsword.
"You want him?" he called, and grinned unpleasantly. "Come and get him."
The others lined up beside Hawke.
"This... is going to get messy," remarked Varric quietly.
"Oh yeah," grinned Hawke.