Caladrius

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: yes
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: cliffhanger!

Author's Notes:

Oh man, what a battle. If I do say so myself! Trivia: this battle has a music video in my head; it's to Duran Duran's 'Wild Boys' extended mix. I did get a few B&Z music videos made years ago, but... ah those were the days!

Recap:

Bannon went to check on his family in the Alienage and found these Tevinter slavers posing as healers. He and Zevran went ahead to find out where they'd gone - with Bannon's dad! - and Alistair and Morrigan finally caught up to them.

Now in the warehouse...

Caladrius

==#==

A bald man, clearly Tevinter, and clearly a mage in rich, fur-trimmed robes, stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a score of guards with crossbows. They were all looking up in expectation.

The mage smiled. "The legendary Grey Wardens, I presume? Ah, good." His gaze shifted to Alistair, who had come through the door and drew alongside Bannon. Bannon signalled behind his back for Morrigan to stay out of sight. Meanwhile, the man kept talking.

"I am Magister Caladrius of Tevinter. I assure you I am here quite legally, under contract with your government. Let us talk! I can offer you great aid in the upcoming battle with the Blight."

"Well, talk," Bannon called down.

Caladrius frowned at the uppity elf. He still addressed Alistair, naturally presuming the human was in charge of the Grey Wardens.

Bannon listened, but didn't let himself be distracted from analyzing the situation. The stairs they had climbed on the other side of the wall had been long, perhaps three storeys. But on this side, the floor was higher.

To his left was a row of cages, packed with elves. Most sat or lay still. A few stood, leaning on the bars, listless eyes looking out at the world with little hope. Bannon couldn't see his father, and forced himself to stop looking.

Across the large room was a wide sliding door, for shifting big cargo containers. The slavers couldn't cart a bunch of slaves through the docks, they must be loading the ship right from here. This section of the warehouse could be built over the water, the floor raised to the height of a ship's deck.

The front of this balcony was thin, but solid, wood. Sets of fairly wide steps led down either side, broken by a square landing midway. Two men could pass side by side, and this Caladrius had more than enough to rush them.

"I understand why you attacked my men," Caladrius was saying. "But there is no need. You are clearly under a misapprehension. Let's clear things up between us."

Zevran said, "It seems quite clear that you are here taking slaves."

"Slavery is illegal in Ferelden," Alistair added with bite.

"No, no. That's not what is going on at all! We were invited here by the Ferelden government, to help relocate some of the elves of the stricken Alienage. They are not slaves, they are to become farmers, each with his own holding in the sunny southern lands of Tevinter."

"Oh," said Alistair, "that explains the cages, then."

"And," Zevran added, "how you need to sneak them out through the wall, away from prying eyes."

"And the whole fake healer thing," said Bannon.

"Well," said Caladrius with a moue of disappointment. "There's a chest of gold here. Let me take my last load of refugees and be off, never to return. If the gold ends up funding the Grey Wardens instead of in the city coffers..." He spread his hands with an oily smile.

"Are we listening to this?" Alistair muttered to Bannon.

"Let him talk."

Alistair frowned. The thief couldn't be swayed by gold, could he?

The mage was encouraged. "Perhaps something more directly helpful than gold? I have powerful magic. I could make you as strong as ten men, or swift and agile as the gazelle. Hearty, even heartier than the legendary Grey Wardens. Be invulnerable to mere mortal foes, laugh in the face of the Archdemon."

"And where's this magic come from?" Alistair asked with biting skepticism.

Again that oily smile. "We have powerful magics in Tevinter. A handful of these poor unfortunates will generate enough power to grant you these gifts."

Alistair recalled the grisly Blood Magic death of Isolde, and swallowed his gorge.

"We'll take the rest, and our gold, and be gone." Caladrius tipped his head. "Surely it would be better than a fight? You're sorely outnumbered. And I am not your enemy, the Blight is. Grey Wardens do take aid wherever it is offered, do they not?"

Now Alistair thought about Avernus and his... unnatural experiments. The entire shady history of the Grey Wardens. Almost anything was worth the cost of defeating the Blight. Wasn't it? What would Duncan do?

What would Bannon do? Perhaps he'd bargain for his father's freedom? And the others? If the Blight won, all these people would die anyway. Was it worth it? Alistair looked at his elven companions.

Bannon's lips were compressed in thought, his brows lowered. Zevran's face was a stone mask, his eyes dark.

"Well," the mage drawled. "What shall it be, Wardens? Wealth? Strength? Or death?"

Bannon took a breath, then said slowly and calmly, "Wow. That sounds like a really good deal." Zevran's shead snapped around to glare at his partner. "But I have a better one," Bannon continued. "How about I give you the finger - " which he proceeded to do- "and you set my people free!"

The Blood Mage's smirk turned into a frown of disgust. "Kill them!"

The twang of crossbows sounded and a swarm of bolts sped at them. The three ducked behind the rail. Bannon started snapping orders.

"Alistair, block the left stair."

"On it."

"Morrigan, jam them up on the right, but stay out of sight."

"And us, mi patrone?" The elves stood and looked over the rail while Alistair took his position. It was a bit wide for one knight to bottleneck, but at least it was narrower than the Redcliffe bridge.

Below, the guardsmen discarded their spent crossbows in favor of swords, and charged, boiling up the steps on both sides, like a river running in reverse.

Bannon's lips twitched as the men left Caladrius alone in a wide empty space. "Us? Down the middle." He leapt over the rail, Zevran half a heartbeat behind.

Alistair turned to look and he wasn't the only one.

Bannon hit the floor, steadying his landing with his fists. Zevran landed, tucked into a roll and came up ahead of him. Both drew steel and shot straight for Caladrius. The shocked look on the Blood Mage's face was priceless.

The fighters seemed confused about which way to go, to attack Alistair or defend their master. Alistair helped the first one decide with a boot to his face.

Just as the elves were about to pounce, Caladrius unleashed a magical blast. Bannon and Zevran were knocked flying back.

The guards shifted direction, trying to swarm the fallen elves. Morrigan rushed to the rail and cast an ice cone on her side, at the lowest soldiers, transforming them into a frozen barricade. The ones behind ran into them, then some tried to muscle their way through, mindful not to break their companions.

Five of them had a better idea and turned to attack the mage.

"Morrigan," Alistair called as he started down his side after the Tevinters, "stay back. Gotta bring the Templar to this fight."

"Understood."

Morrigan 'fled' the enemy soldiers, retreating back through the doorway. A patch of ice helped the first on his way through and over the rail. The second and third grabbed on for dear life and the witch blasted them with her staff.

The other two showed a bit more brains and flanked her through the other door. She jumped atop the rail and launched into the air, spun into a flip as she transformed into a giant spider, and landed on the ceiling. She cocked her head back, mandibles wide, and spat. The green acidic saliva struck the men, blinding the one hit in the open face of his helm, made the others flinch back.

Then she dropped on them to bite some heads.

==#==

The elves were surrounded, but they were holding their own, twin blades flashing in a nonstop deadly whirl. Alistair battled two guards, trying to push them back and angle so he could move towards his friends.

He heard the Tevinter begin a spell. Alistair dropped back, throwing his attackers off balance momentarily. He gathered his will, focused, and let it burst out from his chest. He could feel it, if it wasn't his imagination, but he couldn't see or hear it.

It's effect was clear, though.

Caladrius flung out his hands and absolutely nothing happened. Shock flashed across his face, then he snapped his head to fix Alistair with a seething glare.

Alistair bobbed his eyebrows at the mage. Yeah, don't have Templars in Tevinter, do you?

"Kill the knight!" Caladrius screamed as he ducked behind the thick of his guards. "Open one of the cages!"

Back into battle! Alistair wanted to pursue the mage, but the guards redoubled their attack on him. In the thick of it, Bannon ran past, weaving between fighters. He hamstrung one, but another lashed out and gashed his thigh. The elf didn't slow down, but continued towards the cages, where one of the guards was trying to open the lock. Surely he didn't mean to stop the man from freeing the elves? And why had Caladrius ordered it? It couldn't be good.

Bannon stopped and turned on the mercenary pursuing him. They exchanged blows and the elf head-butted the man back. Then he flung his left sword behind him. It skittered across the floor to come to rest at the feet of the man opening the cage. An assortment of daggers followed. One fetched up against the cage floor and a hand reached out eagerly to grab it.

If Caladrius thought the elves would run away and cause a distraction, or be helpless hostages, he was sorely mistaken.

The guard ran through the first elf to leap out at him, but the next dove and came up with the sword. Several others flooded out, scrambling for the daggers.

Blood pooled on the floor from the guttend elf, and soon the guard as he was swarmed, and the rest as they fought desperately without armor. One of the elves cried out and stared in horror as his droplets of blood from his wounds began to rise up through the air around him.

Caladrius' guards immediately retreated.

"Look out!" Alistair yelled as he, too, backpedalled. "Blood Ma-!"

With a horrible shriek, the elf exploded, throwing his comrades back, covering them with blood spray, peppering them with bone shrapnel. To make matters worse, the blood slicking the floor burst into unholy red flame.

Alistair ground his teeth. He had to get to that damned mage! And where was Morrigan? This would be so much easier if his target was frozen stiff.

==#==

Morrigan saw the two Tevinter mage 'healers' charge into the warehouse. Clearly, they had discovered their murdered companion and the other bodies the elves had left behind. Her eight eyes also picked up the flash of skin as they flung their wide sleeves back, the glint of steel as razors bit their flesh.

She dropped back to the platform and curled, shrinking to her original form. She ducked a volley of spellbolts, grabbed her staff, and fired back. This was not good. She was surrounded by headless bodies and their collective lake of blood painting the floor, walls, and railings.

She scrambled back into the relative cover of the doorways, but judging by the sounds of fighting on this side, she wouldn't stand much of a chance if the guards saw her. She had no armor. One lucky sword strike...

She had to admit there was perhaps some advantage to having an armored Templar in front of you to catch arrows and swords and the like.

Morrigan sneered at the rebellious thought. She darted back to the other platform and blasted magical bolts down at the Tevinters, to at least keep them from climbing the stairs and joining the melee.

They didn't seem to be in that much of a rush. They were two against one, and they were fresh. Bolts criss-crossed as they fired back. Morrigan conjured a shield, but at the rate they could fire, it wouldn't last long. Then the blood on the floor and walls burst into flame.

Stifling a cry, she fell back, quite literally, through the doorway, beating at the flames licking at her ankles.

She had to freeze these mages, but doing so required at least a few seconds to aim the spell. There was no way her shield would hold up that long. Now she had to calculate. Would her waning energy serve best here to slow them down? Or should she retreat and survive?

==#==

Bannon had one sword and one dagger left. At least the guardsmen had only one sword apiece. No shields. Decent armor; all right, he could work with that. But this fighting head-on was not his style. Yet if he didn't face them, it would leave his people unprotected.

Those who had picked up the blades to fight now cowered in fear. Nevermind dying by being stabbed - bleeding and becoming a weapon for the enemy was far worse.

That was it, then. The head of the snake had to be cut off. And he couldn't do it here. His people would have to fend for themselves. He disengaged by leaping back into the red flames. By moving quickly, he only became slightly singed.

"Use the fire," he ordered the elves. "Use your shirts. Throw the flame on them!" It was a thin plan, but better than nothing. He didn't explain or wait for a reply, he just turned and ran along the cages behind the dying flames. He ignored the cries for help, for freedom, for mercy. He'd love to stop and open the locks, but if they all wanted to get out of here alive, he had to kill Caladrius.

==#==

Alistair didn't think he was making any headway. His back heel thunked into the wall below the balcony. Nope, definitely the opposite of headway. At least he'd caught up to Zevran. If they could fight on a united front...

"Alistair!"

He looked over at the assassin's panicked cry. Drops of blood rose from Zevran's wounds, defying gravity. The Antivan's amber eyes widened with realization. "Zev- WAIT!"

The guards had pulled back in panic at the telltale signs of an imminent gore explosion. Zevran didn't hesitate to use the opportunity to hurl himself at Caladrius. Once again, the Blood Mage had underestimated the elves' willingness to make a suicidal run at him.

Alistair sprinted in Zevran's wake, leaving his back open to attack. His armor at least blunted some of the blows.

Caladrius raised a globe of force around himself. Zevran slammed into it with a roar of rage. Alistair nearly crashed into him trying to stop, but stopping wasn't his biggest concern. He only had a split second-

==#==

Bannon skirted the front wall of the warhouse, ignoring the fighting, letting it ignore him. He had to focus. There! Two men stood close, guarding Caladrius, one on either side, but they were facing the other way. The mage was busy quickly preparing another spell.

Bannon crept ever closer until he could spring. He raced at the mage's back and leapt, sword raised to plunge into the man's back.

In mid-air, he saw the glimmer of the shield appear between him and his target. He had no time to think, no time to stop, only a split second to realize he'd already failed.

Then a silent rush of power vibrated the air. The shield was gone, Bannon's sword plunged into the mage's back, and the elf landed on him, driving him down.

Zevran fell forward as the shield collapsed under his assault. He caught his balance and drove his blade into the falling mage's guts. Caladrius collapsed in a fountain of blood.

Alistair panted. All right, good. They'd won. Right?

No. The mage's guardsmen roared and attacked from all sides.

Alistair turned away from the elves, raising his shield. They crowded together, back to back. "Surrender," the knight suggested. "And we will be merciful!"

"No we won't!" Zevran snarled.

"That's a bad plan!"

One of the guards retreated anyway. He ran to the cargo doors. "Morgan!"

"Did Morrigan change sides?" Alistair yelped, blocking and striking.

"Where is Morrigan?" Bannon asked.

"Is she dead? the Antivan added.

That would be bad, too. Alistair felt a bit surprised to realize this.

"Shit!" Bannon yelled, which was the Wardens' universal code for 'Look out, things just got a whole lot worse.'

Then something slammed into Alistair's head, blacking out his vision in pain.

==X==

End Notes:

Morgan is a character I was thinking of developing maybe for Inquistion (if I ever got that :X). He's an elf from Orlais. You know those very rich, 'decorative' ones? He's an actor. And somewhat of a sociopath... I doubt he'd ever make an Inquisitor.