As Varric told her what had happened with the mage, Irina remained silent, her hand holding Anders's all the while. She could see that her friend was mortified beyond measure, and that he'd probably never forgive himself. "If anything, the hands of all of us are bloodied," Varric sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I should have knocked him out when I saw he'd lost control. She should have stopped screaming–"
"It wasn't her fault… She was not in her right mind…" Anders's voice sounded strained, and he covered his face with his hands.
"And the Templars…" The dwarf shuddered. "You know I don't like to take sides, Princess, but that bunch… They had it coming. Vicious, all of them. The Chantry in this place is a disgrace. Between those and the one who got the Qunari delegation killed…"
"The Qunari delegation?" Irina asked, perplexed.
"Oh, that's right. You haven't heard about that… I'm kinda hoping you won't have to anymore, but something tells me that we're gonna be knee-deep in shit soon." Varric nursed his tankard and watched the two mages in front of him. For a moment he considered telling them to run away; tell all of his friends to escape that city, for nothing good appeared to come out of it. But then what? 'Run for the hills' would lose its appeal when they realized that they'd have to leave all comfort behind, and if there was something that Varric liked was comfort. Even his room at the Hanged Man was a little haven where he could write and talk shop when necessary. No – unless something big happened, he wouldn't trade that security for anything in the world.
"You did what?" Fenris growled.
"Told him to burn them!" Aveline said, clenching her fists. "What was I supposed to do? Have them delivered to the compound and tell the Arishok, 'They're a little dead but don't worry, we've already dealt with the one who killed them'?"
"Yes!" Fenris shouted. "You do not hide something like this!"
"Should we have given them an honorable funeral?"
"No, the body… The body's not important. Their swords… What did you do with those?"
Aveline looked at him nervously. "Gone." She saw Fenris rub his face and breathe in and out slowly. "We couldn't find them; maybe the zealots took them! If you'd been here–!"
"Do not try to blame this on me, Aveline," Fenris shook his head.
"You said you would help me! I've dismissed claims against you because you were supposed to collaborate in this matter! What was so important in Amaranthine that you couldn't wait to go there?"
"It is none of your business," he muttered. "I've helped you whenever I could, but this is not a matter that will be resolved easily."
"What should I do, then?" she asked, as she saw him walking out of his office. He stopped at the door and looked at her sadly.
"Pray that nothing else stirs conflict," he said, and walked away.
She didn't think that he wanted to talk. There was an air of sadness around him; the longing that he always seemed to express was not there anymore. Instead, his amber eyes tried to avoid her grey ones, taking refuge in his reading and writing. Irina went over his notes, time and again. She wrote comments on the margin of the pages of his manifesto, pointing out little things that escaped Justice, but that the man in Anders was neglecting as well.
It wasn't until a few weeks later that he decided to overcome his embarrassment and say something.
"Was it worth it?"
Irina looked around the kitchen and spotted Orana coming out of the kitchen quietly. The elven maid always knew when she was not supposed to be around, even though she'd never been asked to leave when the family talked about private matters. Irina turned to Anders.
"Amaranthine? Absolutely," she replied, the hint of a smile in her lips.
Anders cast a quick glance at her. It reminded her of the guilty glances that Hairbag gave them every time he broke something. "I'm glad," he muttered.
"Velanna said that you could have saved us the trip over there, since you knew what was wrong with Fenris," she said as she chopped some herbs skillfully.
Anders didn't reply immediately. His hands were busy, handling a minute spoon and getting rid of clots in the syrup that he'd prepared. Irina didn't rush him. She thought that he needed peace, and if he wanted to ask, he could always do so.
"You needed to see Carver," he said eventually. "And Fenris needed to be alone with you."
Irina left the knife on the board and wiped her hands on the apron she was wearing. "Come here," she murmured softly as she opened her arms. Anders looked at her skeptically. "I won't hurt you."
He snorted. "I know you won't."
"No. You have to say it. Say you won't hurt me."
He raised his eyes and watched her. Her grey eyes were clear and honest, and there was no pity in them – only acceptance. He shook his head. "I may do so one day. And then, I will have broken my promise."
"You won't hurt me." She held him by the hand and pulled him towards her. "Wrap your arms around me. You know how to do it, so don't play coy." She smiled at him and saw the corner of his lips curling upwards. "Come on... You know you want to…"
"You temptress," he sighed, resting his chin on her head and embracing her. "Fenris is so lucky to have you. Don't you ever let him forget that."
"Oh, he knows it. And he's grateful to you, but you know him. He'll never say it."
"As long as you are happy…" he murmured. The face of the young mage he'd killed came back to him. She would have been warm, like Irina was. Full of life. A future ahead. She'd been one of his kind. Still, none of that had mattered. He hugged her tighter, and the strangest feeling took over him. It was as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff, and she was the only thing holding him back. He didn't like it. He couldn't depend on her forever.
"I'll always be here for you," she murmured, and he wanted to believe her.
"Stop it! That's enough!" Fenris pushed one of the elves backwards as he held the other by the arm. "Will somebody tell me what's going on? Maffeth?"
"I almost lost my job today because of him!" the younger elf replied. He passed his fingers through his red hair nervously. "I found a nice house to serve, and he came by and started shouting insults!"
"Why would you do that, Lothal?" Fenris asked.
Lothal crossed his arms over his chest. "They're just filthy shem."
"They're good people!" Maffeth exclaimed. "Just because they're not noble–!"
"Look at us!" Lothal shouted. "We live in this place and we have no purpose!"
"But… we can work! That's how we get a purpose!" Maffeth's young face blushed. The elf was not accustomed to arguing or defending himself with words. Fenris watched him with a mixture of pride and pity. The women had adapted more easily: Millia had found a place as a kitchen hand in a noble house and was living there permanently, and Tyria had chosen to live in the alienage, in Merrill's old place; she'd even found a mate the night of the Vir'elvhen. Orana still went from Fenris's place to Irina's, but Fenris had the slight suspicion that the only reason why she hadn't moved there permanently was because Gamlen picked her up every morning and dropped her off every evening. Fenris was not naturally curious, but Irina was, and she'd planted in his head the idea that Orana liked Gamlen, and not precisely as a father.
"What do you intend to do, Lothal?" Fenris asked quietly. "I do not object to your living here and working around the house, but don't you want something different?"
Lothal shook his head. "I'll stay here, and wait for the Master."
Fenris felt a sudden chill going down his spine. "What did you say?"
"This house has a Master. I will wait for him." Lothal turned around and left the room. Maffeth breathed out and muttered an apology before leaving in the opposite direction. Fenris stood there, trying to get rid of Lothal's baleful words.
Sebastian shot down the last of the gang and said a prayer for the lost soul. Varric raised an eyebrow and chuckled softly. "The number of prayers I've heard you say… I think I've learned the entire Chant by now."
"It wouldn't do you harm," Sebastian smiled. The two men walked towards Aveline, who was soothing the Viscount's son, shocked at the sight of so much blood.
"There was this moment in which there were so many of them that I thought 'Shit, I should have packed my bags, 'cause I'm sure going back to the Stone'," Varric said merrily. "It's good to have you back, elf."
Fenris looked at him and grunted. He'd never settled a certain score with Sebastian and he was trying to stay away from that conflict, even though part of him was dying to let the Brother know that he'd claimed Irina as his. "We're ready to go, Aveline."
"I know, but… Saemus, are you ready?" she asked hesitantly.
The Viscount's son started to nod, but something caught his eye. The body of a dead Qunari lay there, his chest smeared with blood, mingled with the red warpaint that marked him as an Ashaad, a scout. Fenris noticed that the Viscount's son was wearing a wristband that seemed too large for him.
"Perhaps we should give him some time," he suggested to Aveline.
Saemus's turquoise-green eyes gazed at him gratefully. He knelt next to the Qunari and leaned over his body, his fingers delicately touching the Ashaad as if he were a fragile thing. Fenris couldn't make out the words; Saemus's voice was just a whisper, but it sounded so tender, so intimate, that he felt that they were intruding.
He signaled Aveline and the Captain and the others followed him. He perched atop a rock and looked out into the horizon. The coast seemed clear, but he knew that such tranquility could be treacherous. He tried to shake off the feeling, but Saemus's distress at the loss of his friend had touched him more than he'd thought.
"Why did you travel to Amaranthine?" a soft voice asked behind him. Fenris had learned to dread that accent, which spelt out nothing but trouble to him.
"To find an answer," he replied curtly.
"Did you find it?" Sebastian's piercing blue eyes were seeking for something else. He hadn't meant to ask why he'd been to Amaranthine, but why he'd taken Irina with him.
"I think I did," Fenris shrugged.
"Your spirit seems to be at peace now," Sebastian said, watching the waves crashing below. "Whatever it was, I'm glad to see it's been resolved."
"Right," Fenris scoffed.
Sebastian shook his head. "Think what you may of me, but I'm not your enemy."
"You're not my rival either," Fenris replied.
Sebastian gave him a patronizing grin. "We'll see about that."
"I'm ready to leave, messere," Saemus said to Aveline. "But there's something I must ask of you first."
"What is it, boy?" Varric asked, sheltering his eyes from the sun. One more hour in that place and he'd lose his mind.
"You must tell my father that I've died. Tell him that the Winters killed me." Saemus's face was so serious that they didn't even think that he was joking. "I'll join the Qunari at the compound. He won't come looking for me there."
Aveline looked up and sighed. "This isn't the right way, Saemus."
"Why not?" A flash of anger crossed his bright eyes. "Ashaad is dead because of him! If he hadn't placed that stupid bounty… He could never understand – no, he wouldn't hear me when I told him that he should have tried to integrate the Qunari to the city. He segregated them, and now they're…" He clenched his fists.
"They're what, Saemus?" Aveline took a few steps towards him, but the young man stepped back.
"I'll jump," he said, his voice a thread. "I swear, if you make me come back to him, I'll kill myself." To show his determination, he walked backwards, close to the edge of the cliff.
"No, no – there's no need to do that," Varric said quickly. He'd been walking towards Saemus slowly and was very close to the man now. "Look… Your father is an important man. You know that. He can't agree with you publicly. He's got a city to protect."
"Protect from what?" Saemus cried out. "The Qunari are not the monsters in Kirkwall! You saw them!" he shouted at Aveline. "You saw their bodies down there! Slaughtered, like animals, by the very same people that claim to protect us!" His eyes darted to Sebastian. "Your people! What? You didn't think I'd know, did you? I saw the reports; I heard the rumors, and I was hoping… For a moment I…" He fell on his knees again, and Aveline swiftly crossed the distance between them. She threw her arms around him, trying to contain him. Bitter tears streamed down his grimy face.
Aveline kissed his hair. "I know what it's like to lose someone that completes you." Saemus cast a quick glance at her, expecting disapproval of some sort, but Aveline just nodded. "Your soul is torn, and you feel that you'll be alone for the rest of your life. You start to wonder why you survived, if it should have been you lying there instead… I wouldn't want anyone to have that kind of pain. Do you think your father deserves that as well?"
The young man winced. "I… I guess not..."
"Then, let's go back to the city. Talk to him. You're his only son. He'll listen to you. Make your case, and people will know."
Saemus nodded slowly and sniffled. "Thank you, Captain. I'm… ready to leave, if you please."
As they watched Varric and Sebastian escorting the young man ahead, Aveline and Fenris looked at each other. "You know what I am about to say, don't you?" he asked gravelly.
"This adds to the conflict," Aveline sighed, feeling short of breath.
"Talk to the Viscount. Appeal to his diplomacy. And get your guard ready, Aveline," he said. "There's a storm coming."
Merrill hadn't asked Irina why she had wanted to switch her large bedroom for the smaller one that overlooked the garden, but she understood that the Irina that had left for Amaranthine had not returned, and the one that had come back was a quieter one, who liked to spend her hours with Anders in the clinic and the study room, and whole afternoons with Fenris. She was happy to see them together, his back resting against the old willow as Irina rested her back against his chest; reading together, sometimes having long talks in hushed voices. A few times she'd overheard them when she'd been close to them to pick up Inan, who liked to crawl over to where her aunt and her lover were. Secretly, she envied them, and seeing them together reminded her of how lonely she felt. She considered asking them to accompany her to visit her clan, but there was a high chance that they had moved already, and she feared that the road trip would be too much for the child.
"I'm off to sleep," Irina said, as she kissed her sister on the forehead. They'd been darning socks and sewing clothes for the children in Darktown.
"Have a very good night, dear," Merrill said in a singsong voice. Irina gave her an odd look, but Merrill just shrugged and smiled.
"I will," Irina muttered, as she walked to the back of the estate and into her bedroom. She locked the door behind her and looked around. She drew the curtains and the moonlight bathed the room. She brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks, and waited.
There was always this fear within her that one day he wouldn't come. She couldn't say why, because nothing in his demeanor said that he'd stay away, not anymore. And yet, why did she feel that he might leave her?
She heard the dog bark once – he knew that the figure coming up was no foe, so he quickly went back to sleep. She looked out of the window and saw someone approach slowly. "Tease," she muttered, a dreamy smile appearing in her face. She opened the window, letting the cool air in, and beckoned. He took his time as he climbed the steps of the veranda and sauntered towards her room.
Fenris closed the window behind him and took off his cloak, which he dropped on the settee next to them. "Still clothed?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"I thought you liked removing my clothes," she said quietly.
"That I do, yes," he said, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her slowly, feeling her lips as if it was the first time. His fingers found the laces of her bodice and started undoing it slowly. He smiled when he felt her fingers helping him almost impatiently. "How much longer do you think I'll have to come through the window to see you?"
She smirked as she kissed his neck. "You like your privacy, serah."
"True," he sighed as he felt her teeth on his skin. "But I think we're ready to let them know." He caught her by the chin and looked into her eyes. "If you'll still have me, that is."
Her only answer was to take him by the hand and lead him to the bed.
"Where have you been?" Isabela asked as soon as he entered his room.
Fenris's eyes squinted. "Why do you ask?"
"I've been waiting for you for hours. Helped myself," she said, raising a bottle. "I hope you don't mind. So…?"
"What do you need, Isabela?" he yawned. He was tired and upset. Her being there usually meant that she needed something, and since she'd helped him with a tax collector –though he hadn't really asked, but every little help counted– he knew that this was no social visit.
Isabela smirked. "I know that exhaustion. You've been naughty, haven't you?" When Fenris didn't reply, she laughed. "O, sweet exhaustion! I haven't felt that for a while now. If I didn't know how devoted you are to the girl, I'd ask you to give me a hand with that."
"I think you've had many hands there already," Fenris grunted. "What is it?"
Isabela crossed her legs and rested her back on the chair. "I've got a lead. A good one this time."
"You said the same before. What makes it good this time?"
"Straight from the horse's mouth. Well, one of the horses. There's an Orlesian representative in town. A wealthy man, in his sixties, with a penchant for male prostitutes. I stole from him. From his house, rather. I happened to overhear a conversation with one of his unsavory contacts. The woman mentioned that they'd found someone who claimed to have stolen a relic from a thief."
"My head's starting to hurt," Fenris groaned.
"I'm the thief, dummy! It's the relic they took from me!"
"Well, you know what they say about stealing from thieves… So what relic is this?" Fenris asked. "You never said."
Isabela shrugged. "Eh, I never knew. I thought the box had pretty colors, and that was it. Now, pay attention, because I'm sure you'll be interested in the next part. It seems that the Orlesians are a bit concerned about finding out the whereabouts of this second thief before the Tevinters do." She saw him perk up. "Aha! I knew that you'd find that bit interesting! There appears to be a Tevinter magister in the area, and the plot thickens!"
Fenris grabbed her by the wrist impatiently. "Do not toy with me! What's the name?"
"Relax," she said, slapping his hand so that he'd release her. "The name's not Danarius; that much I know. But I thought that perhaps you'd want to come with me, next time they meet to discuss progress."
"When will that be?"
"The contact is supposed to report in ten days," she replied. "I've got the location. All you have to do is come with me. I can only ask Varric to accompany us. Don't tell Aveline or Sebastian. One of them would probably lock me up and the other would spank me. Sadly, I think Aveline would spank me," she sighed. "I'll just have to keep pining for Sebastian. Such a shame, with that colorful past…" As she opened the door, she found one of the elves outside. "Fenris! You didn't tell me you had such attractive companions!"
Lothal blushed and ran away. Isabela snorted. "Bah. I thought you elves were more open-minded. I guess it was just one elf that was kinky." She shrugged and waved goodbye.
"You can't play a lute to save your life," Irina laughed. "And then you wonder why the cats are nowhere to be found around your clinic."
"Cats can be pretty dissonant as well," Anders said. "I actually thought I could attract a few with those nyan nyan nyan notes, but perhaps the locals ate them." He shrugged. "Hairbag's not bad. He's no guard dog. In spite of his size, he spends most of the day curled up and snoozing." He looked at her. "Have you been sleeping well? You look a bit tired."
"Hm? Yes, I've been sleeping well. I'm not feeling great during the day, but the nights give me no trouble," she smiled.
Anders snorted. "Oh, don't count your sovereigns in front of the poor, darling. When will you two announce it?"
"Announce what?" she asked innocently.
"It is a little ridiculous to hide it at this point. You're a woman now. And the man who made that happen obviously cares for you, so…"
Irina shuddered and frowned. "It's a bit chilly in here, isn't it? I'll ask Bodahn for some more lumber."
"I'm fine; I think it's just you." Anders pressed his lips to her forehead. "No temperature. Maybe you need a tonic. What do you say? One of the old macerated centipede ones?"
"Maker, do not even mention that," Irina said, fighting back the nausea. "I still remember your boxes filled with those creepers, and the way you removed their legs and crushed them… So slimy…"
"If you put it that way…" Anders grimaced. "I'll get the embrium spirits that I prepared last winter."
"Please," Irina chuckled as she watched him run for the beverage. He returned with two small glasses and, as he poured the blood-red liquid, he cast a quick glance at her and smiled. "What? Is there something on my face?" she said, rubbing her nose self-consciously.
"No, I was just remembering when we first met. Or rather, the first weeks we spent together." He handed her one of the glasses and sat down next to her. "I didn't know what to think of you. I must admit it took me a while to get used to your presence. In the Circle, you learn to trust only a few. And even those can let you down. But you… I don't know."
"You're like a brother to me, Anders," she said, patting him on the arm. He gave her a half-smile.
"Would you believe that there was a time in which I thought that we…?"
"Please don't say it," she shook her head. "I love you, but not in that way."
"Good, because I can't see you any other way now."
"Now, he says," Irina chuckled.
"What? You can't say I'm not honest." He raised his glass. "To good friends."
"To best friends," she replied with a smile.
"This way," Isabela instructed her two companions. Fenris was always surprised by Varric's suppleness, and he felt that skulking with a broadsword was inadequate. His bare feet, however, gave him a better grip, and soon he was moving just as stealthily as the other two.
"What's the plan, Rivaini?"
"We wait till the exchange of information takes place. If we're lucky, they'll bring the relic. If we're not, we'll just have to beat them to the place."
"It doesn't sound like a brilliant plan," Fenris muttered.
"It's the best I could come up with. I'm open to suggestions," she winked.
Fenris rolled his eyes. "I guess we'll see as we go, then." However, the further they went into the warehouse, the narrower the passage became. Fenris got stuck behind Varric at a point, and Isabela had to continue on her own. "Will she be alright?" he asked his companion.
"Her instinct of self-preservation challenges yours," Varric sneered. "I'd tell you to be ready, just in case, but I'm not sure how we're going to help her from here."
"Perhaps we should go back and I can get ahead? I'm thinner than you…"
"Go on, rub it in, elf. It's the dwarven build. Just because you're a lucky bastard–" He was interrupted by some screaming below. "What was that?"
"I think the trouble's just begun," Fenris said, turning around and crawling back. Through some cracks in the wood panels to the side, he caught a glimpse of a Saarebas. "No… It can't be… Qunari."
"Here? Why?"
"Who cares now? Isabela won't make it if she gets caught!"
When they finally found the way out, they bumped into the pirate, who was already on the run. "Hurry up!" she shouted. "We need to leave this place!"
"What happened?" Varric shouted as they ran.
"I'll explain later!"
"I knew I should have picked Aveline's job tonight!" Varric groaned.
Fenris silently cursed himself for having forgotten about Aveline's request. As he was running after the pirate, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure entering the warehouse, followed by a group of hooded people. He stopped abruptly. Was that… Lothal?
Varric pushed him from behind. "Come on!" the dwarf shouted, and Fenris followed him.
"No…" Aveline sank to her knees and embraced Saemus's body. "Not him…"
Sebastian looked at the Mother in horror. "How could you? This man… He was innocent!"
"He was a heretic!" Mother Petrice shouted. "The ones closest to our leaders – you, the Captain, the Viscount's son! Converts! You have abandoned our Lady and the Maker!"
"Are you daft, woman?" Sebastian's voice trembled with indignation. "How dare you smear the Holy Names with your filthy actions! I should have told the Grand Cleric what you were up to, and the Maker will forgive me for my weakness, but this will not be ignored!"
"Say what you will, Brother!" Petrice's voice was filled with venom. "But this city will be purged by the Hand of the Divine! When she hears about this… Yes – the Chantry will recover from its losses, and once more–!" She gasped as she felt the sting of a poisoned arrow. Sebastian looked around and saw an Ashaad – so similar to the one that had been murdered that for a moment, he thought that the ghost of the other had returned to avenge his friend.
The Ashaad struck the Mother again, making sure that she was beyond aid, and then turned to Aveline and Sebastian. "We do not abandon those of the Qun. Their loss will be felt, and you will know it in the flesh," he said as he disappeared in the shadows.
"Maker help us all," Aveline murmured.
Isabela had used the distraction to turn the tables in her favor, and had managed to find the one who had the relic. She'd refused time and again to say why the Qunari had shown up at the previous location, and that had led to an argument with Varric, who had walked away, furious with the pirate. She'd told Fenris that he could leave as well, but he'd shaken his head and reminded her that, considering all the parties involved in the search, she had next to no chances to come out of it alive if she was left on her own.
"You're such an optimist," Isabela had said, and he'd just shrugged.
The man hadn't expected her to show up, so he'd let down his guard, and she'd taken advantage of it. She'd made a comment as to how a good body could get someone places, but Fenris didn't feel like listening to anything anymore. They'd been up all night, and he was more than glad to see that everything would soon be over.
However, once they reached the docks, they could feel the growing disquiet and the troubled voices. Isabela looked edgier than ever, and Fenris decided to just follow and not ask any more questions. Castillon was waiting for her, and when she gave him the package, the man smiled.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Thank you, my dear."
"Are we good, then?"
"Oh, we are more than fine. Just in time, from what it seems. Who's this?" he asked, pointing to Fenris.
"He's a friend," Isabela replied. "Not for sale."
"Are you sure?" Castillon said, looking at Fenris appreciatively.
Fenris held his sword in his hand and seemed to weigh it. "I'd say we're pretty sure, yeah."
"I've got a potential buyer. A Tevinter magister," Castillon said to Isabela, not intimidated in the least. "What do you say?"
Isabela looked at Fenris. "Who's the buyer?"
"Have I piqued your interest, then?" the man smirked at Fenris. "You see, elf. Everything can be bought or sold if you're willing to name a price. They'll be here soon, my dear," he said to Isabela, "so you may want to make up your mind while you can still get something out of it."
She looked behind them and saw Castillon's ship, anchored in the distance. It seemed to be beckoning. But betraying Fenris… He'd stood with her till the very end. He deserved better. She felt Fenris moving closer to her, and his voice in her ear.
"This man is begging for you to take his ship," her friend smirked. She watched him silently, a smile dancing in her eyes.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked quietly.
"I don't see why not," he replied.
"And here they are," Castillon announced, as the group of hooded people that Fenris had seen the night before entered the landing. "My friends! I think we're ready to begin our transaction."
"That elf seems familiar…" Isabela muttered to Fenris. She didn't have to say it twice. Lothal was following the group, and Fenris saw his finger pointing towards him and saying something to one of the figures.
"Venhedis!" Fenris spat. "I knew it was you!"
"Silence, Runaway," one of the people said. "Unlike you, this slave knows his place."
"You sold me out!" Fenris shouted as he saw the others coming down the steps. "What did they offer you?"
Lothal looked back at the magister and then down at Fenris. "A purpose," he replied.
"And he shall have one," the magister smiled, as she stood behind the elf. In a swift movement, she cut his throat. Dark-red blood poured from the elf's body, and Fenris saw the magister's hands beginning to control it.
"We have to go!" he screamed at Isabela, whose eyes were fixed on the other side of the room. Fenris followed her look and saw a group of Qunari, their weapons already drawn.
"There's the thief!" one of them screamed. An Arvaarad was leading the party, and was pointing to Castillon. "And there's the Tome! Nehraa Koslun! Ataash Qunari!" His war cry clashed with the screech of the demon summoned by the magister.
"Take the Tome!" she yelled. "Don't let the beasts get to it!"
Isabela gave Fenris's arm a yank. "Let's leave, now!" As they ran to the docked boats, they heard Castillon screaming. Some of the crew ran after Isabela and Fenris, and some stayed behind to defend their captain. Isabela stood on the main boat and shouted to the remaining crew, "Listen! That vessel has been seized! Those of you who wish to die can leave now – otherwise it'll be all hands on deck, because we're getting out of here!"
"I can't leave!" Fenris shouted as the boat kept carrying him away. "I have to go back for Irina!"
"You can't go back now!" Isabela shouted back. "They'll kill you if you return! Let's wait till this conflict had passed!"
"What conflict are you talking about?" Fenris asked, finally giving in to his curiosity.
Isabela looked at him and shook her head. "I promise I'll tell you about it once we're safe!"
"Firm ground beneath our feet, at last!" Sigrun sighed as they disembarked in Kirkwall. "One more day sailing those waters and I would have puked my insides out of my mouth… Who the heck ordered me to come here with you?"
"Your Commander, as far as I remember," Stroud chuckled. "That's what happens when a Fereldan –and a northern one, for that matter– calls the shots."
"You shouldn't complain, though," Carver smiled, tousling Sigrun's hair unceremoniously. "You always get assigned to the important missions." He looked around. People seemed to be bustling about as usual, but there was also a heavy stillness in the air that felt ominous. "We could spend the night at my family's–" Carver began to say, but his words were drowned by the battle cry of a hundred voices coming from the compound.
...
A/N: As usual, thanks for reading! And thank you to those who added this story to your favorites/followings. (I'm sorry it took longer to update, but it was my birthday and my weekend was filled with things to do!)