Title: Snow and Ice

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Sexual content, minor language, violence, blood, use of alcohol

Summary: Once upon a time, a maleficar had stopped the blight. Afterwards, she'd left for the colder North, leaving love for a life of loneliness and wandering. No one was to look for her. So why was Alistair calling her back? Zev/Surana

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Review please.

Chapter 26

Elda tossed her robes on the fire as soon as she saw their ragged state. Torn apart and sewn back together again, the clothing was no longer recognizable. The cloth had been old, she reasoned as she watched the fire destroy the garment, and it wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway. Vrinda was quick with bringing the trunk. Though it didn't look heavy, Elda was sure she wouldn't have been able to lift it from the arravel and into the sunlight. With Zevran's help, she managed to bend down and open the rusted latches.

Vrinda touched her shoulder. "We kept them nice for you. Ferias always had them in his arravel where they could stay dry and clean."

With a smile, Elda lifted off the black wool blanket that protected her various, breakable things. Her hands touched soft leather and silk. A pair of worn, black gloves easily fit her hands as she slipped them on over her ringed fingers. She only wished that she could feel the comfortable leather on both hands instead of just one. Next, and she laughed as she lifted it out, was a mage's robe of the highest quality. Even Zevran recognized it.

"Reaper's vestments," he muttered, touching the dark blue cloth. "Alistair was absolutely furious when you bought this, do you remember? So many sovereigns."

"Yes," she nodded. Laying the robe down, she bent to scrape up an old amulet.

"Ah, now this I do remember. From the tower, is it not?" he said, putting the red gem in his palm and feeling its warmth. It pulsed almost as if he held a human heart. "Or maybe I do not." He flipped it over, reading the inscription on the back.

"Lifedrinker," she whispered, a fondness for the necklace overcoming her suddenly. "I got it on the mountain. With the dragons."

"What a horrible little device," Zevran snorted. "You actually wore this around your neck?"

"Yes," she answered a bit defiantly. "Speaking of that…" Plucking it from his grasp, she pulled his amulet from around her neck carefully so as not to rip the stitches and put it in his hand. The stone was warm from sitting against her chest, designed and enchanted specifically to add to stealth. She closed his fingers around it before fastening Lifedrinker about her collar. "Not that I don't like wearing your jewelry," she said by way of apology.

"Oh, I understand," he smirked. "That leeching gem is much better."

Ignoring him, she continued to rummage through her various things. In a small pouch made of wolf fur and skin, three hollow needles glittered up at her. The ink in the vials had long ago dried up, unsealed as permanently as they had been at the castle.

A pair of brown black were folded in the bottom, thick and lined with fur. She pulled them out and slipped them on. They fit much better than the mud-crusted cloth shoes she'd been wearing.

"There's this, as well," Vrinda said, capturing her attention. Elda glanced up, hand going out immediately to take the long, curving bow handed to her. Made of pure ironbark and decorated with various designs and engravings, it was truly a beautiful piece of Dalish art. Ferias had made it for her, a craftsman as well as a mage. Her initials were burned into the bottom, the weapon fitting effortlessly into her hands. The feel of the bark was smooth, familiar. Ferias had intentionally made it lightweight as for a novice. Not a single inch of it was damaged. Even the string was still just as pure white and brand new.

"I thought I gave this to you, Vrinda. Before I left—" she started, but Vrinda cut her off with an upheld hand.

"Our people always come back. Ferias made this for you, not me. It will always be yours," she answered with a smile.

Elda thanked her quietly. Then, she looked at Zevran. "Even with all this gear, my archdemon hunting gear, I'm not sure I'll be able to kill her. Not if she has Rinna hostage."

He took her hand. "We slew the archdemon in less than a half an hour. We've killed high dragons and Flemeth herself, the most powerful witch in the world. Together we can kill this novice, this fledgling, Alaeze."

"I hope so."

The wind gave a sudden heave, tousling her hair.

Vrinda, biting her lip, spoke. "Maybe it is time you two told us just what you are hunting, and why this mage has your daughter."

Elda hesitated. She didn't, under any circumstances, want to put the clan in danger. Aid from the clan would definitely make winning easier, but endangering the rest of her family seemed like a betrayal, especially because she had been the one to make such a mistake. Zevran put a reassuring arm around her shoulders and forced her to meet his eyes. He nodded.

"Okay," Elda whispered. "Please, get Ferias and come by the fire. I'll tell you, but only you and Ferias. I don't want the rest of the clan in danger."

Vrinda looked thoughtful, her slender limbs across her knees, hands folded between her legs. The fire gave her dark skin a warm glow, accenting all of her lovely features. Elda had forgotten just how beautiful her old friend had been. With her hair pulled back, the wild Dalish elf had a more tamed look. The vines and tattoos across her face marked her as a Dalish, though, and no one would dispute it.

Ferias was scratching absently at the stubble on his face, lost in thought, too. Suddenly, he said, "Just how old is this fledgling? You make her sound so young."

"She appears to be about my age, but her manner is that of a child. I think—but I may be wrong—I think she is using a charm. The way she moves," Elda mused, "it's odd. Coordinated, but amateurish. Her immaturity suggests to me that she is simply cloaking herself with that shield. She's a very talented mage."

"How old do you think she is?" Vrinda asked, intrigued.

"Sixteen, maybe younger. She said she was trained rigorously in preparation for finding and eliminating me. Six years ago, she would have been ten or eleven. Still a child even in the Crows," she replied.

"Children are branded at birth," Zevran mumbled. "At ten or eleven she would have been introduced to her first master depending on when exactly she was bought. Children must be broken first before they can be owned. This is easily done, but children aren't assigned to masters in ordinary cases until their ninth birthday, sometimes later."

"But she must have shown great promise to be chosen for the important task of assassinating the Hero of Ferelden," Vrinda argued.

"Not necessarily," he countered. "There is a high possibility that she was chosen because she was young and amateurish. This is nothing but a game to the Crows. As you've seen, contracts can be passed down. It is not uncommon for us to wait until the target becomes old or even sickly to try again if the first attack has failed. Her masters might have been using this as motivation to improve her skills."

"It doesn't matter how old she is," Ferias decided. "Her skill is undeniable if she was able to not only pull you to the Fade, on the same island as her no less, but also throw you back into your body while you were projecting. She is a dangerous opponent."

"She's unstable," Elda said to him. "She bleeds power and potential, unable to control it. That can work to my advantage."

"It might," he considered. "Don't underestimate her, though. She seems to harbor a deep hatred for you. Perhaps she blames you for the torture and preparation she went through."

"I certainly would," Vrinda snorted, tucking a hair behind her delicately pointed ear. "Alaeze seems like she can be dealt with."

Ferias grunted. "I have no doubts as to Elda's ability to kill this mageling. I am concerned for her child, though. What must she be going through?"

Zevran glared at him.

"She's still alive," Elda assured him, placing a hand on Zevran's arm. "I'm her mother. If she were dead, I would know it. We've shared blood. Mages can sense one another. She's alive."

"I believe you," Ferias said, spreading his hands. "There's no reason for Alaeze to kill her. If she knows you as well as she says she does, then she would know you would not go after her blindly out of grief. You're not that emotional. Perhaps a desire for revenge would come later, but if Rinna were to die, you would feel as though you had no reason to go after her, would you?"

"I would want revenge," Elda declare darkly, "but you are right. If she killed Rinna, I would stop and decide the best way to pay her back. I wouldn't risk my life for an unsure thing. When I went after her, and rest assured I would, it would be with a plan to tear her limb from limb and keep her alive while I did it."

Vrinda shivered in the wind. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Ferias patted her arm, then glanced over at the two of them. "I want to know more about this demon, Ikilai. I feel as though I've heard that name before, and I have a few theories to share with you. If you would hear them?"

Briefly but in as great a detail as she could, Elda outlined each of her encounters with Ikilai in both the Fade and the tower.

Thoughtful again, Ferias was quiet.

"What an awful thing to be tracked by a demon," Vrinda exclaimed. "I wonder just what it wants from you."

Ferias tapped a finger to his mouth. "I think it's a time-turning demon."

"What?" asked Zevran, having never heard the name before.

"What?" asked Elda, skeptical.

"They're demons that can predict the future. They find mages as soon as they are born and latch onto them, following them throughout their life. The person they choose is someone who regrets the path their life has taken and wants to change it. When life becomes an all-consuming darkness, the demon shows himself and makes an offer. What would you give to throw back time, to redo a part of your past knowing what you know now? The price is usually very steep, half their life-span or all their powers," Ferias explained. "The demon becomes more powerful with each sealed contract, until it becomes powerful enough to escape from the Fade altogether and take on human form."

"I know what it is," Elda snapped. "I've read the old Tevinter texts. They don't exist, these demons. Ikilai is nothing by an overzealous pride demon. Nothing more."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Ferias warned. "You are powerful, and many demons are attracted to you. Not only that, but you have many regrets in your past. There is much to lose in the coming days. Would you be so quick to dismiss it when it fits so well?"

"He has a point," Vrinda said. "Would it be so bad to assume this is what Ikilai is and be wary of future dealings?"

"I won't be having anymore dealings with him," Elda said. "I'm going to use him to help me track down Alaeze. He and I have no further business."

"That time in the tower," Zevran said thoughtfully. "He actually materialized in your room. You said he was running his hands all over your body." He looked at Ferias. "Is that common behavior for one of your time-turning demons?"

"Yes," Ferias nodded. "They treat the mages they've chosen as property, sometimes even as lovers, haunting dreams and the like. It helps to convince the mages to trust them. You are more likely to trust a demon you've seen all your life than one you've never seen before, aren't you?"

"Nonsense!" Elda stood up abruptly. "I never saw Ikilai when I was younger."

"You throw up impressive walls," Ferias said gently, gesturing with his hand for her to sit down. "You've always been able to shield your mind well. That is why you make the perfect bloodmage. At night, you can close your eyes, throw up the wall, and wait until it is over."

Before she could reply, Vrinda cut in. "If it is true," she murmured tentatively, glancing at the both of them meaningfully, "it doesn't bode well for the future, does it? I mean, he must know something awful is going to happen. So awful that she will want to 'throw back time'."

What would you give to throw back time, to redo a part of your past knowing what you know now?

Elda buried her head in her hands. It was all too much to take in, coupled with the fact that she was wounded, exhausted, and her daughter was still missing and in terrible danger. She leaned against Zevran's warm body. The sweet smell of burning wood and his musk made her almost dizzy with fatigue, but she managed to keep her eyes open. Zevran threw an arm around her shoulders and spoke with the two Dalish elves for a little while longer. They even once drifted off into such mundane conversation as the weather. She closed her eyes and listened to the vibrations of Vrinda's soprano voice, Ferias's deep bass, and felt the rumbling through Zevran's skin.

Sooner than she would have liked, someone was shaking her awake.

"If I must kiss you awake, I will," said a tinkling voice that was most definitely not Zevran's.

"Stop it, Vrinda," Elda moaned. "I want to sleep."

"Beneath the stars in this cold?" she asked in mock horror. "I myself love the night, but you'll freeze to death. Come on, your paramour has gone off with my brother in the woods to make sweet love. I suggest you and I do the same." Her giggle was like breaking china.

She couldn't help it. Elda chuckled and opened an eye. "Only if you hold me afterward," she groaned, sitting up on the log bench where she'd fallen asleep.

"Done, my sweet," Vrinda promised immediately, grabbing her face with both hands and kissing her plump lips. "Come on. The wounded must be taken care of."

The tired elf allowed her friend to pull her toward the arravel on the other side of camp where she'd woken up. Red streaked the sky crimson as the sun slowly sunk below the horizon, splashing lush pinks across the expansive area above as it became darker and darker. A few hunters loitered about. The smell of food was in the air, but Elda wasn't hungry in the slightest. In fact, she felt a bit sick. All the children had gone to bed, it seemed, as she couldn't spot a single one around the camp. Of course, Ferias's clan had never had many children to begin with.

"So where have Zevran and Ferias really gone?" Elda asked.

"The halla are acting up, and Ferias is helping Khana out with them," she replied. "It's strange. They only ever act this way before a storm, but the sky is clear. As for Zevran, he snuck off into the woods about an hour ago."

"Why?"

"Practice? A bath? Why would I know?"

"You were awake."

They passed by the halla pen on the way to the arravel, and Elda almost cringed. Two of the very large males were fighting, clashing their ebony horns against one another and twisting. The females were in a horrible state, shrieking almost and stomping the ground. Khana was there with her pale white hands held up in supplication, trying to calm them down. Her black hair was wild in the sudden wind, and Elda immediately felt a sense of foreboding. Something dark and flavorful was in the air. Refusing to move, she managed to coax Vrinda to a halt.

"What is it?" Vrinda asked, dropping her bony wrist and coming up beside her. The mage stood transfixed, staring at the halla pen, almost frozen with fear.

"There's something wrong," Elda whispered. "Can you smell that?"

Confused, Vrinda tentatively sniffed the air. "I don't smell anything. Why? What is it?"

"Smoke."

Okay *cracks knuckles* no more running around pointlessly in the woods. Let's get this storyline going.

Does arravel have one R or two? Anyone know? Thanks for reading. Review please.