Author's Note: Thanks for reading my story! I appreciate it! This is a rather lengthy chapter (in my opinion), so I apologize. I feel that Zevran is a bit OOC as well as Wynne, but that is a matter of opinion. Also, I'm a bit out of it right now, so I apologize if this chapter (and my proof-reading!) are a bit off. Anyways, enjoy!
The next morning, Bell was sent off with the elf.
For now, she rode one of his horses. The rest were occupied by his companions.
"Why so many?" Bell asked as the elf helped her into the saddle.
The elf chuckled. "We are taking on a Grey Warden and his companions, not a simple merchant!"
Bell fell into line with the rest of the men. The elf rode beside her.
"So, you're an assassin?" asked Bell.
"Yes," he replied.
"Are you allowed to tell me your name or will your group disband you if you do?"
"No, no. The Crows will not mind me telling my name. I am Zevran."
The Crows. Bell read about them once. They were deadly, and the more Bell heard about this plan, the more her hope faded.
Bell nodded in reply and stored the name in her mind.
"I trust you know my name already," said Bell.
"Ah, yes. 'Bell' I do believe. No 'e' on the end."
"Aye," she mumbled. Her hope was continually dipping; they knew so much and she knew so little.
They rode on in silence for a while until Bell turned to the elf again.
"Do you plan to kill me?"
Zevran was surprised at the innocence of the question. The girl's dark eyes mimicked those of a child, ignorance and youth staring back at him.
"I…do not think so. No," he replied, trying to regain his professional composure.
Her eyes evoked emotions that Zevran seldom felt. Something close to sympathy and compassion.
The girl turned away. "I do not know if that should comfort or sadden me. To know that I shall live while the others die…"
Her voice was full of sadness, but Zevran's mask was on; nothing would faze him now.
Bell noticed the front the elf had adopted and returned to her thoughts.
She thought about Shadow Runner. Scholar horses were trained to be obedient to Scholars and Scholars alone. They were to be treated as equals, not something lesser like a pack horse.
She sighed as she wondered whether he even made it out of the castle.
Her thoughts then moved on to Rabbit. Oh, that lovable Mabari. He could never do anything wrong, no matter the offense. Bell was sure that he was with Aedan; he was a faithful hound.
And then her thoughts shifted to Aedan. He was her closest and only friend. She missed his witty humor and the thought of his death evoked old emotions.
She hid them well though, behind a determined face. A tear escaped but she silently wiped it away.
Each step filled her with dread and brought the Crows once step closer to the death of the Cousland line.
In the days that followed, Bell slowly regained her health.
Walking was the instinctual act it was before and color returned to her face, revealing her youth.
The group she traveled with seemed surprised at the changes taking place. Bell was no longer a hollow pawn to be used; she was a person, defiantly speaking out against this plan of murder.
"Why are you going to kill Aedan?" Bell asked.
"Because we are getting paid to do so," said one Crow.
"That's it? For money? Have you considered the fact that you are killing off the only hope we have against the Blight?"
"The Blight is just a conspiracy," commented another Crow. "There is no archdemon, therefore there is no Blight."
"Just because you can't see the sickness, you will still catch a cold," replied Bell.
"Enough," said Zevran.
"Bell, your point has been made. We, however, are not disobeying our orders. You understand. But on to the matter at hand. Tomorrow we arrive at the ambush site. Elyana?"
"Yes?" replied a woman.
"Do you have the attire for our lovely bait?"
"Of course. I'll fit her the next time we stop."
"Good. Then this plan will not fail."
Aedan was glad to be out in the realm of reality.
His thoughts were scattered, but remained focused on the task at hand: recruiting the dwarves.
He was glad to be done with the mages; Wynne proved to be a powerful ally and he was glad that she joined his quest.
The constant lectures, however, were a different matter.
"Aedan?"
"Yes, Wynne?"
"Did you oil your armor last night?"
Aedan sighed. "No, Wynne."
The old woman clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "You could at least oil it before you go to sleep tonight."
Aedan blocked out the rest of the lecture and focused on the road ahead when he saw a figure standing on the path.
It was a woman. She wore a white dress that brushed the ground with a sheer material that attached to her waist with a brown belt.
The scene was reminiscent of a goddess sending a vision.
As he slowly walked forward, the vision became clearer.
The woman had long, brown hair marked with gentle waves as it flowed in the wind. She seemed to have an impassive expression on when he suddenly recognized the face.
Aedan ran forward, ignoring the fact that he interrupted Wynne's lecture.
He took the girl in his arms and began stroking her hair.
"Bell," he whispered, the name carrying all of the emotions he had experienced.
The figure began to shake slightly in his arms and he pulled back.
She was crying.
"Bell? Bell what's wrong?"
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, stepping back to reveal the elf hiding behind her. "I'm so sorry."
"And now comes the end of the great Cousland line," sneered Zevran, drawing his blades.
Aedan did the same, and his group launched themselves into the attack.
Aedan focused on Zevran, trying to find a hole in his defenses.
The elf was lightning fast, though, and proved to be a tough enemy.
Aedan would strike at the elf, but he would easily block the attack.
The battle between the two was a stalemate. Both were fighting furiously, arms clashing and shield resounding with every hit.
Aedan took a stab to the side and the wound began to bleed profusely.
The elf smiled as he watched his victim stumble, taking his daggers and lazily twirling them between his fingers.
Aedan took this moment to lunge at the elf, and he managed to reciprocate the wound in his side to the elf.
Stunned, the elf stumbled back a moment, hands grabbing at his new wound. He fell to his knees and slowly succumbed to the pain.
Aedan grimaced as the pain of his injury radiated through his body.
The fight was still ravaging on, only a few Crows left, when Aedan looked up to see Bell, pale and frightened.
Images of the siege of his castle surfaced to his mind. He quickly stumbled toward Bell and stood protectively in front of her. They would not take her this time.
As the last enemy was felled, the group moved over to Aedan.
Morrigan was checking the corpses when one groaned. She raised her hand, as if to finish the act, when Bell ran forward.
"Wait!"
The witch stopped mid-motion and looked up.
"Spare him," Bell pleaded as she came upon the broken body of Zevran.
"What? Why?" barked the witch. "He tried to kill us!"
"He has information that I want. Please, give him a day and then you may have his life."
"And who are you to say this to me?" asked Morrigan.
"A friend. I wish you no harm. Please. Spare him."
The witch dropped her hand and stood up.
"Fine. But only because Aedan tells me to. You have no idea what he has been through, stranger. Be glad that he shows you mercy."
Bell frowned. "Nay. I know what he has been through. I was there that night."
"How were you-"
"Now is not the time for questions. I suggest you tend to Aedan. I will take care of the elf."
She looked down at the semi-conscious elf and repeated his earlier words.
"There shall be no running from this."
Author's Note: Hopefully, that wasn't too painful. (I know I used that line already. I'm just a bit tired after writing all this.) Shout to to BAMS who reveiwed my last chapter! Reviews and consrtuctive criticism gladly accepted.
Note on the next chapter: The next chapter is going to be super short. Like, less than 350 words short. Don't worry; chapter 15 will be the usual length.