Chapter Thirty-Eight: Spidey Senses

Leli and Zev had finished with our tent, and I stood up, taking Alistair's hand. As I stood, Aedan pointed down towards the river.

"Get cleaned up again, both of you. You look like you've been rolling around in a battlefield."

I looked up at Alistair and realised his face and neck were covered in dried blood; reaching up, I recalled that so was I. My hair was crusted with it, and I was suddenly thoroughly disgusted. His expression mirrored my feelings, and after grabbing soap we headed down to the stream hand-in-hand, barely able to see in the last light of dusk. I knelt on the bank, carefully using a cloth to wash my face and neck. Alistair just waded right in, fully clothed, to my amusement. When he assured me I'd gotten the blood off my face, I cast about awkwardly trying to figure out how to wash my hair without climbing in entirely.

"Let me."

"Huh?" I'm always so eloquent.

"Roll onto your back, and I'll wash it."

"I'll fall in!"

"Not with me right behind you. I won't let you fall, Sierra."

I trusted Alistair, but was still a little nervous. I reluctantly turned, sitting with my back to the stream, and he waded up behind me. He put his steady hands on my shoulders and eased me back; I gasped as the cold water crept down my neck as my hair submerged. His fingers were strong, his hands warm, and he leaned over me, concentrating intensely, as he carefully lathered my long thick hair. His fingers massaged my scalp, and I moaned, the sensuousness contrasting strangely with the cold.

He smiled softly at me. "You are so beautiful, Sierra."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the intimacy.

I was surprised when, a moment later, I felt his lips press gently against mine. It was like some weird moment from a chick flick – I recalled a scene from the Bourne Identity or some such where he was washing her hair and they ended up kissing – but it was better. He was Alistair, and he was real, and it was happening to me. The kiss ended and he pulled away, still supporting my head.

"All clean, I think. And it's cold – we had better get you dry and warm."

He helped me sit, and I quickly wrung the excess water out of my hair and twisted it into a bun to prevent it dripping too much. He climbed out of the water, and I was momentarily dumbstruck. Despite being fully clothed, the water meant that nothing was really hidden. He was six feet of gorgeous, and I moaned again in spite of myself. He glanced at me curiously, and I was intensely grateful for the near-darkness that covered my blush. I shook my head, trying to gather my wits, and scrambled to my feet.

Suddenly aware of how cold it was, we instinctively clung together, though his wet clothes were probably not helping me any. Reaching the tent, I insisted he crawl in first and change his soaked clothing, and I went to huddle by the fire. Zevran, on watch, was the only one left outside, and he had thoughtfully tossed some extra wood on the fire. I wiggled as close to the fire as I could tolerate and sat with my wet hair towards the heat. I knew it wouldn't dry that fast, but the warmth felt wonderful.

Zevran raised his eyebrows with a smirk on his face as he dramatically glanced over at the tent I shared with Alistair and then back at me. His thoughts were plain – why was I out here when there was a perfectly naked, gorgeous templar in there? I scowled at the elf and shook my head. I'd had enough unintentional embarrassment for one night – I didn't need to add walking in on Alistair while he was changing. I wanted to get naked with him, more than I was comfortable admitting, but I wasn't going to have the first time be sort-of accidental and awkward and in a tent with everyone listening. We weren't ready. Zevran just shook his head, amused.

Alistair saved me by emerging quickly, dry if not yet warm, and I slipped into the tent to change into a light shift for sleeping. I looked critically at the dress as I took it off – it was probably a lost cause, with all the blood around the neck, but I put it aside to ask Leliana's opinion later. I wonder if they have bleach in Ferelden. I called out softly when I was ready, and Alistair crawled back into the small space.

Neither of us spoke; I think we both knew that the mood had been well and truly broken, and I for one was freezing. Our bedrolls were pushed up side by side, and as he laid down, I snuggled up to him. I could feel myself start to shiver, and he wrapped a warm arm around me as we pulled both blankets up to cover both of us. Cuddled in his arms, finally starting to warm up, I felt myself drifting off to sleep.

"Love you." I mumbled. I felt more than heard him reply, but I was asleep before whatever he said penetrated.

I woke in the same position I'd been sleeping in, snuggled up to Alistair's side. I opened my eyes, expecting to see morning light filtering through the tent fabric, but it was mostly dark outside and very, very quiet. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had woken me, though I couldn't imagine what; Alistair slept peacefully, so obviously it was only me. I tried to settle back down and get more sleep – my eyes were gritty with fatigue, and I clearly needed the rest – but I felt like I was going to crawl right out of my skin, and the sensation wouldn't let me rest. It was a familiar sensation, the more I thought about it, and I realised that it was similar to the feeling I'd had early on after meeting Zevran when he'd been trying to prank me while meditating with Alistair. In fact, it suddenly occurred to me, it wasn't similar – it was exactly the same.

I would have slapped myself upside the head if I thought I had time. I jerked upright, and let out the loudest yell I could manage.

"Wake up! We're under attack!"

I heard a startled Leliana scramble to her feet out by the fire, grumbling about bad dreams, just in time for the whistle of an arrow to be heard flying through the camp. It thunked into something, and from Leliana's sudden shriek, the something was her. Moments later I felt Wynne's magic flare, and then a few seconds later Morrigan's, and I hoped one or the other had taken care of Leliana.

Alistair, more alert than I despite having just woken, grabbed me with one arm, his sword – which I hadn't realised was right beside his bedroll – with the other, and with a grunt, rolled us. We hit the side of the tent and stopped, just as a couple of crossbow bolts pierced the spot we had been sleeping in. Releasing me, Alistair bolted from the tent with a growl, and I heard his shout at the same time as the clashing of metal from the other side of the camp.

I scrambled for my own daggers, our tent no longer under attack since Alistair had exited, and tried to follow him out, but he was blocking the exit, engaged in furious combat with someone whose legs I could only glimpse briefly between Alistair's. There was enough moonlight to see, but barely. It was just as well; as I ducked back into the tent, I felt the aura that could mean only one thing – our ambushers had a mage with them. It was different from Wynne's soothing presence, and similar to Morrigan's, but I could tell Morrigan was on the opposite side of the camp, in spider form I guessed, and this was much closer.

Closing my eyes to concentrate, I found the source of the mana and reached out, as I'd shown Alistair on the hapless darkspawn Emissary. I heard a scream as I seized that power, but then had no idea what to do with it. Crawling back to the tent flap, by the wan moonlight I could see Alistair bleeding from a slash to the arm, and all of a sudden instead of being afraid, I was angry. How dare these bastards try to hurt my family? I growled and felt the power I held change, move somehow, and suddenly Alistair was surrounded by a brief flash of white light. I catalogued what I had done with half my mind, comparing it to what had happened at Ostagar, while the rest still watched Alistair. The next time his assailant got a hit in, the sword stopped an inch from his skin as though he wore his usual armour, and a spark flared; the sword seemed to rebound up and fly away, and I heard a curse as the man lost his grip. Alistair slashed his neck easily, and the would-be assassin dropped, hands trying in vain to close over the wound.

When Alistair stepped forward, I could finally see Aedan, dancing between two men with great swords, and my anger flared again; another flash of white light, and I knew he'd be similarly protected. I was able to crawl out of the tent and climb to my feet, turning to see the terrified visage of a young man in robes, clutching a staff ineffectually, and chanting frantically. I was amused to note that what he was chanting wasn't an attempt to cast a spell, but rather a prayer to the Maker. I looked away from him and spun, picking out my friends in the darkness, seeing flashes of light as shields went up. Alistair was relieving some of the pressure on Aedan, while Zevran fought to keep Leliana safe near the fire. Prince and Sten were finishing off the archers that had started the whole thing, and Shale protected Wynne as she circled, looking for obvious injuries. I couldn't see Morrigan, but her aura had last flared at the edge of the woods, and a number of writhing, screaming attackers demonstrated the power of her bites. None of the people I could see near her were capable of standing, never mind fighting, so for the moment she was safe.

As I completed my circle, the rest of my group finished off the last of the enemy; Zevran and Aedan went around slitting the throats of those still breathing. That left just the mage near me, now completely devoid of mana. I caught Alistair's eye and then put up one of the shields I had finally figured out, and he nodded. Aedan walked up to the mage, who had fallen to his knees, dropped his staff, and held his hands out to the sides in an effort to look non-threatening. His frightened eyes were fixed on me until Aedan stepped into his line of sight.

I didn't stop to watch the encounter between the mage and Aedan; I turned and rushed over to where Leliana had fallen by the fire. Zevran had her propped up against his chest, his hands holding her shoulders still, while Wynne slowly, methodically worked an arrow out through the back of her leg. She'd cut away the leather of her armour, revealing an expanse of pale thigh. I was relieved to see not much bleeding – the arrow hadn't hit an artery – but one look at Zevran's too-blank face and I knew I was missing something. When I looked closer, I could already see the edges of the wound blackening, and Leliana didn't even seem to notice the pain as Wynne pressed the arrowhead deeper into her flesh. Poisoned, damn it. Leliana's face was pale, and I didn't think she'd notice our conversation.

"Wynne?"

"I see it, child. I tried, but I don't know enough about poisons."

"Zev?"

"Two or three possibilities come to mind. If I knew which, I could make an antidote – maybe, if I have the supplies available – but if I give her the wrong one, it will be worse than the poison."

I swore. "Zev, can you…look, don't hurt anyone, but can you find out what the poison was?" I gestured with my head to the mage behind me.

Zev nodded grimly, grabbing Leliana's blanket and wrapping it around her now-shivering upper body. I stayed with her, but watched Zev as he stood and headed back to the apostate, still kneeling in front of Aedan. He reached down into the grass near my tent and picked up one of the daggers that I'd dropped there. Steeling myself against what I had asked him to do, I watched him walk up behind the mage, grabbing a rough handful of his hair and tilting his head back. His hair fell back, and I realised he was an elf. I hadn't even noticed. Zev held the dagger at his throat.

"Zevran…" Aedan murmured, warningly.

He must have winked at Aedan, because his body language subtly relaxed. Zevran spoke.

"I'm afraid your sad story won't sway me, little mage. My friend is dying. So either you tell me what poison they used to tip their arrows, or you die." He pushed his head down, and looked at Aedan, who nodded, ever so briefly. Like he'd actually kill someone. Oh wait... "Think carefully, little maleficar. I've seen your friends – they were nothing more than thugs. I'd be willing to bet that you made the poison for them. Tell me now, and I might be inclined to allow my friend here to continue with whatever soft-hearted plan he has that will allow you to keep your pathetic little life. Refuse me, and I will use you to refresh some skills I haven't practiced in a while."

I almost felt sorry for him, felt sick for torturing him even if only emotionally, but we needed to know what poison they used. I left Leliana, wrapped tightly in a blanket, with Wynne, and walked over. The apostate's eyes went wide as I approached. Zevran shook his head, pulling at his hair – enough to hurt, not enough to damage.

"Speak."

"I don't…I don't know what it's called. Please. I'll tell you everything I know. There used to be another mage with us – he died a few months ago – but he taught me how to make basic poisons and poultices. I don't know what it's called, but I can tell you how it's made. Or, I can make the antidote. I know how. One of the guys accidentally cut himself once on an arrow. There might even be some of the antidote back at my camp. Please, please. Don't hurt me. Kill me if you have to" – his eyes opened, tears streaming, looking at Aedan, pleading – "but don't let her hurt me." I was fascinated that it was me he was concerned about, despite Zevran's dagger at his throat. He was babbling, and I figured about ten seconds from soiling his robes.

The assassin shook the young mage's head again. "Tell us how the poison is made, and then the antidote. Lie, and you're mine."

I looked at Zev skeptically, and tried not to grin. Zev crouched down and listened to a list of ingredients and instructions flow frantically out of the terrified elf's mouth. Zev nodded every now and then, and I was encouraged to see that he seemed to recognise the poison. After a few minutes, he stood up.

"Can you fix it?"

Zevran shook his head. "There's no way to get what I need, here. But it sounds like they've got some of the antidote, and probably the supplies I'd need to make it, back at their camp. He says this was all the men with them, that the camp is deserted. I'll go check it out, and if it's not a trap, I'll get the antidote."

"Can you trust that it's the right one?"

"I'll know it by smell. It's quite distinctive. If it's wrong, I'll make some myself with their herbs."

Aedan's voice rang out. "Take Morrigan with you. She can scout by air, and if you get in trouble, come get us."

I heard the cawing of a crow overhead, and knew she was one step ahead. Zevran handed me my blade and took off after her at a run. I walked away from the hapless mage with a disgusted snort and headed back over to where Wynne was hovering over a grey, sweaty Leliana. With nothing else to offer, I sat beside her and held her hand. I briefly wished I was religious – any faith would do – so that I could at least pray and believe it might help. Wynne spared me a sympathetic look and continued to fuss over Leli, checking and rechecking on her condition. Alistair had dressed, and came to sit behind me, his enormous plate armour giving me something to lean against, and held my other hand in his.

Aedan joined us, and I realised he'd left the mage alone and unbound. Well, alone except for Prince, who obviously shared my dislike and stared at the young man with an almost disturbing intensity. Shale and Sten were piling corpses for burning off in the woods. I shot Aedan an incredulous look, and he shrugged.

"How long can you keep him from casting?"

"No idea, actually. Though if I lose it, Alistair can take over. Why isn't he at least tied up?"

"There's extenuating circumstances, Sierra."

"Of course there are. And so we're going to do what with him? Let him go? Ask him to join us?"

Aedan spoke defensively. "It's what you had us do with Zevran, I'll remind you. Sten too, for that matter."

"Because I knew what would happen! I don't know this kid. He wasn't in the performance. He could turn around and slaughter us in our sleep. Or turn us in to Loghain or Howe for the bounty. Best case scenario he's an extra apostate to deal with, and one who can't turn into a bird and disappear when the templars show up. I'd never have taken Zevran or Sten either, if I didn't know the future. You're really shocked I don't trust him?"

"Are you even going to hear his story?"

I sighed. "Of course I will. I'm probably the softest touch of all of us. Just don't expect me to like it."

Alistair squeezed my hand and Aedan grinned. By unspoken agreement, we would wait until Zevran returned and Leliana was safe before discussing anything further. Sten and Shale returned, Sten favouring the young mage with glares that rivalled Prince's. The apostate stayed put, curled in on himself, shaking every time he looked our way. I steeled myself against his pathetic sadness and stayed with Leliana, resting against Alistair's armoured chest.

As we sat I could feel the mana in the mage regenerating, and I gradually drew more of it in as it did. If he was uncomfortable, he wisely kept it to himself. I don't know how long we sat, waiting for Zevran to return, but it felt like hours. It felt like a death vigil. Everyone was jumpy, startling at every noise, and I had to restrain myself from heading off after Zev half a dozen times. If he's fine, you'll just slow him down; if he's not, you're not the one who can help him. Steady girl. We sat, and Leliana got paler, her breathing more laboured. The sun peeked out over the horizon as dawn arrived.

After an eternity, I could hear rustling, and then the caw of a crow, and Zevran burst out from the trees. He was sweaty and panting, obviously nearly exhausted, but he carried a pack full of herbs on his shoulder and a small vial triumphantly in his fist. Morrigan transformed right in front of us and plucked the vial from the wasted elf's hands, and proceeded to rattle off instructions to Wynne that she'd obviously been given by Zevran. The former assassin made it to the fire and then collapsed, spent. Aedan found a blanket and covered him, curling up behind him for good measure. Morrigan sat beside me and I favoured her with a grateful smile.

"Any trouble?"

"None. Though the camp was a little further than he said. 'Twas abandoned and the supplies were right where they were supposed to be. There was nothing there worth scavenging besides the herbs and the antidote. Even the food…" Her disgusted look gave me all the explanation I needed. She paused. "I admit to being impressed; the elf can run."

I felt a flash of warmth at the thought of our companions working together to save Leliana; I'd never really seen them come together like this before, though I supposed they had when I'd been burned. But Zevran had run himself into the ground to get the antidote, and Morrigan didn't even try to hide the concern she felt. I contemplated teasing her, and decided to pass. I couldn't do it after everything she'd done. I reached over and squeezed her hand, once, then settled back against Alistair to watch Wynne work.

She'd apparently administered the antidote already, and I saw the empty vial roll away from her in the dirt. Leliana was still pale and sweaty, and I felt Wynne's magic flare again as she tried another healing spell. It felt weaker than normal, and Wynne herself started to look a bit peaked. She reached into a nearby pack, and I saw her pull out a Lyrium potion. Worried about my favourite grandmotherly mage, I stirred to object, but Morrigan cut me off.

"Allow me to try. It can't hurt."

Wynne nodded, and Morrigan shuffled to her knees, reaching out to place her hand over the wound. I felt her magic flare, but again nothing changed. Leliana looked the same, and Morrigan, sniffing, tried again. And again, each time weaker than the time before. I squeezed Alistair's hand in a death grip, and he squeezed back. I met Morrigan's eyes, and she shook her head.

Both of our mages were tapped, and Leliana still looked like death.

Finally beyond guilt, I got up and approached the apostate. "You lied."

His face was white as a sheet, looking up at me. He practically squeaked as he spoke, and I wondered just how old he was. "I didn't. I swear! It should have worked. I've used that antidote before."

"You'd better come up with a better answer than that. You know what I am, don't you? I don't think you want to be on my bad side." I felt bad using the templar card. Almost.

"I…look, I'm a healer. If I had any mana, I could maybe come up with something. Like this, I'm less than useless to you."

I looked over at Wynne, who met my concerned gaze with a similar expression. Morrigan broke in.

"Let him try. If he attempts to attack, or escape, we will end him. 'Tis simple; even were he a blood mage, we have him greatly outmatched."

Wynne nodded reluctantly, as did Alistair. I glanced at Aedan, but he was busy with Zev, who must have been in even worse shape than I thought, to have my brother so absorbed. I closed my eyes and released the mana I was holding.

Hesitantly the apostate climbed to his feet, taking a few steps then kneeling by Leliana's unresponsive form. I felt his magic flare, and a blue light seemed to pass from his outstretched hands into Leliana's wound. Wynne and Morrigan both watched, apparently fascinated, as time stretched. After another eternity – which was probably only a minute or two – he nodded.

"May I see the arrow you removed?"

Eyebrows drawn in puzzlement, Wynne handed the arrow she'd fished out of Leliana's leg to the elf. He stared at it for only a couple of moments, before holding it out to her again. "There's a piece broken off. I'm guessing it's still in there." He gestured to the wound.

Wynne accepted the arrow skeptically, squinting in the dim light. "Good eyes. If you're right, we need to get that piece out." She looked around, grimacing. "This isn't going to be fun."

We shifted Leliana to lie back on the ground, and I went over to lie beside her, one arm holding her shoulders at Wynne's direction. Alistair shifted his own weight to hold down her legs. We recruited Sten to boil a pot of water, and then, in the fire, heat a slender piece of metal Wynne produced from her pack. Morrigan, Wynne and the apostate hovered over the ugly, blackening wound, Morrigan providing a magic light to supplement the sunrise, holding strips of cloth we'd torn up to make bandages in the other hand. Wynne took the cooling piece of metal and began probing into the wound gently. The elf held the edges back, and blood oozed out of the wound. I looked away and tried not to vomit.

Wynne almost jumped when the probe clunked softly against something hard, and we all shared a look of mixed relief and concern. Relief that we knew what the problem was; concern, because we had no good way of removing it. What I wouldn't give for a scalpel and a pair of tweezers. Wynne muttered a warning to Alistair and I, closed her eyes briefly in what I assumed was some sort of prayer, and then carefully slid one finger into the hole the arrow had left.

I'd vaguely expected it, at some point, but Leliana's scream still caught me completely off guard. Alistair, fortunately, was not as surprised as I and managed to continue to hold her down as she thrashed. I pressed harder on her shoulders, murmuring soothing endearments that I doubted Leliana could even have heard, never mind understood. Wynne just grimaced and kept digging, more and more of her finger disappearing into the small hole. She finally must have bumped into something, because she grunted and shifted her hand, removing the probe.

Now came the hard part – getting the rest out without letting it fragment into pieces. It felt like forever, as Wynne gently wiggled and teased the fragment of arrow out of Leliana's inflamed flesh. Periodically Leli would half wake up, screaming and trying to thrash, but then pass out again for a while. With a triumphant gasp, Wynne finally lifted a hunk of black, nasty looking stone out of the wound. Nodding to the elf, she whispered.

"Could you check?"

He closed his eyes and the blue light resumed. In a few moments, I gasped as the wound edges drew together and sealed. The blackness around the entry was gone, and the skin came together like, well, magic.

The wound in Leli's thigh was closed. The skin was puckered awkwardly, and I felt sad about the unfortunate scar it would leave, but the bleeding had stopped and the skin had sealed completely. Shifting my glance to Leli's face, I noted she wasn't shivering quite as much, and the sweat on her brow was drying. With a sigh, Wynne ran her hands across the scar, and I felt her magic flare once more. It lasted only a few seconds, but the smile I saw on her face was the most beautiful thing I could imagine.

"She will recover."

A/N:

Alright, a little more action this chapter. I hope you all enjoy! Please, please review. It motivates me to keep going. Don't make me beg! I'll cry, and it won't be pretty.

A note on Sierra's powers: I tried to adapt the powers I gave Sierra as extensions on the powers from the templar tree in game. Like take those abilities, and add power. So she can do something that looks sort of like a mage's mind blast - as an extension of a smite, the mana sucking capability as an extension of Righteous strike, and the shielding as an extension of mental fortress. Hope that's all at least somewhat believable. The why of it...well, eventually. No spoilers!

As always, I don't own Dragon Age. Many thanks to Kira Tamarion, Bookwyrm, and Melysande for their invaluable editing skills! You gals rock.

Reviews:

Enchantm3nt: Still not quite at Denerim, though I hope you'll enjoy it when we get there. Personally, big brothers were always more trouble than they were worth, but here's me hoping it isn't always like that :) And if I didn't tease, you'd all be bored! :)

Flower248: Hopefully this helps with your desire for action! They'll get to Denerim soon, but fair warning - there'll be plenty of fluff there as well ;)

renegadelove: I can hope I'm good at the smut! You'll have to let me know. And yeah, I just can't see a golem in Denerim as a good thing, no matter how hard I try.

SagaMus: I may, eventually, get to writing that if I ever finish There and Back Again :) I'll keep you posted.

Guest: I too wish my brother was awesome like Aedan. It's one of the good things about writing - wish fulfillment, sort of. In my head - and maybe I need to describe him better - Aedan looked somewhat like Fergus, but taller and leaner. Dark hair, green eyes (because in my mind, Eleanor has green eyes too). Probably hair just a tad too long - scruffy, I guess. Not long enough to be called a long hairstyle, but not short enough to be cleancut. And, you know, impish grin.

Guest (reading chapter 16): Sorry about the Theron/Tomas thing! It gets confusing for me too, lol.

Guest (from chapter 25): yeah the Guardian's a bit of a dick, I have to say. Though I suppose that's the point...

Anderslove: I have to admit, writing Zev and Leli and Alistair and Wynne all snarking at each other and stuff has been absolutely hilarious. Every now and then my brain comes up with something silly, and I sit and giggle until I manage to write it down. My husband's fairly certain I've lost my mind, but he hasn't called for men in white coats yet, so I'll take it. And Sierra's probably just a touch manic...the speeches are way too much fun! Hope you liked this little hint of her powers...

And thanks to: brandischoch, Ioialoha, and two Guests for reviews without specific questions.