I was beginning to be put at ill-ease by Alistair's constant glancing. Ever since that morning he had acted funny. Morrigan sensed my disturbance, and trotted up alongside me at the front of the line, leaning close so the others would not hear. Sten fell back a respectable few feet for privacy.
"I sense a certain puppy has taken a shining to you, Isthalla," she commented wryly. "The idiot cannot stop staring at your arse." Morrigan couldn't withhold a giggle at this observation, causing me to snort in agreement. She glanced back once at Alistair, who poked his head above the company - all the way in the back beside Leliana - and looked distraught over our smirks.
"Do you think it was the 'witchy makeover' you gave me?" I said, putting dramatic emphasis on the phrase Alistair had coined earlier that morning when Morrigan revealed my new look to the party. We both stole a glance once again at the puppy-man floundering in the back with curious, sad eyes bobbing over Sten's shoulder every now and then. Morrigan tried to suppress another snort, and cupped her hand closer when she noticed Wynne's pace increasing to try and overhear.
"I'm pretty certain he wishes to watch both in front and in back," she jested while nudging an elbow into my side. This ruptured an unexpected guffaw from my stomach as I clamped a hand over my mouth and felt my face burning hot.
"I certainly hope this giggling session is not at the expense of our poor friend Alistair?" Wynne appeared at my side, offering a sidelong glance of disapproval to both myself and Morrigan. Morrigan attempted to hide a snort when we both saw the slightly mischievous smirk flitting the old woman's face.
"No, Wynne, just over a puppy," I tried to say very seriously. I couldn't resist. Morrigan choked on another snort of laughter, forcing me to release the pent-up giggle I'd been holding back. Though we both probably looked like cackling children, I honestly didn't care. Perhaps it really was a "witchy" makeover. I felt clear-headed and sure of our path. We had saved Connor and now embarked on a quest to search for the Holy Ashes of Andraste herself. Though I wasn't the religious sort, the excuse to be up and moving on the road again and as far away from the Tower as possible had put me into good spirits. Morrigan had even offered me a nice remedy spell for a hangover earlier that morning.
"Very well," Wynne smiled dryly, falling back into the middle of the line where Alistair was quick to huddle beside her for information. Now I consciously waited for the signal; Alistair would nonchalantly cast a glance forward, drifting casually across to where I walked. Morrigan appointed herself to sentry duty, alerting me from the west side of the group just how often his eyes wandered.
By early afternoon, I felt a bit exposed by his watching. Unfamiliar feelings of embarrassment and self-consciousness fluttered in my stomach. Though I had no interest in the idiotic man, I couldn't help but feel a bit unusual wearing the Tevinter robes which exposed more skin than I had ever considered. I was not one to actively cover my body, though by Tower regulations we were banned from wearing the robes after a rather interesting incident regarding myself (of no direct responsibility, I swear) and some of the other girls who had imported some fine robes from the markets to wear. We'd worn the adornments to dinner that evening, and in the company of a surplus of new recruits to the ranks added ever since the disaster with Franklin and the bullfrog.
Though I along with my friend Anna were more than aware of what had happened, the templar recruits seemed to be under the impression that our new robes had somehow bewitched them into a shameful, and rather hard predicament. Greagoir had been so outraged and humiliated by the entire experience he had all of the robes thrown into a crate and locked in storage. Ever since, we were forced to wear robes that covered both ankle, wrist, and collar at all times. Even the men.
Having the freedom to wear such robes again gave me a sense of confidence - revelation, even. I was no longer shackled; Greagoir, of whom I had expected to kill me upon re-entry of the Tower, had surprisingly agreed to my proposition, and held up his word to assist Redcliffe when we had returned to the first level with Irving slung over my shoulder.
No, I didn't want to think about that. It brought a cold-sick feeling in my gut that I didn't like. I promised myself I wouldn't think about the Tower anymore. I would move forward anew, just as Morrigan said I should. I looked the part, so I should act it.
We were beginning to clear out of the woods now and curving on a wide, open road arching through the low mountains. The skies were a brilliant blue, and the sun high overhead, warming the chilly earth from early-morning frost. I turned around and began to trot backwards, though slower - allowing Morrigan to lead - and faced Sten.
"Kadan," he addressed me courteously, a ghost of a smile on his face. I grinned.
"Sten, you never said what you think of my new look," I jested, pulling my lips back to bare a row of smiling teeth at him. He seemed surprised by this insinuation, but never wavered his gaze.
"It is not a look, but a simple alteration of a physical image," he corrected. "You are still the Grey Warden. Nothing has changed," he finished. A pause, and he wrinkled his face in the slightest. "Although slightly more bouncy on this day."
His blunt observations, though spoken in a very matter-of-fact tone, sounded incredibly amusing. I laughed and shook my head, hopping just in time to avoid a rock. I still faced him.
"If that is a compliment, then thank you," I said with a nod before turning back around.
I almost imagined he wanted to add that it wasn't, but instead murmur a simple yet imagined fondness of the familiar words: "As you wish, kadan.."
I fell into an amiable silence, and contented myself to listening to other conversations rising and falling with the others behind. Although Bodahn followed at some distance, both Wynne and Alistair had relented to falling behind to sit on the back of the cart and have a chat. Leliana had taken up pledge beside Sten, and incessantly chattered away at him over shoes and other girly things I knew he endured, though sometimes grew weary of. Today, he seemed tolerant of it, and even offered an occasional comment every now and then - although usually disapproving.
Morrigan was lost again in her own thoughts. I left her to her own devices, peculiarly watching her as she would trot ahead, straying off the path every now and then to inspect the shrubbery or watch for herbs. She was a curiously nervous woman for being raised in the wilds, though that was probably an admiring trait to have. To be dull and in the wilderness full of beasts and darkspawn was a dead man's wish.
She reminded me distinctly of a fox we once snuck into the tower. Though Anna had been a particularly gifted young elf with bewitching the wild, no amount of spells or incantation could calm the animal. We had naively wanted to keep the thing as a pet, as most smart children do. I remember it skittering about the dorm, tail bushy and raised, eyes wide and terrified. It would dart about the room in bouts of crazed claustrophobia, then relent to curling up in a corner, shaking, and yowl and hiss until we had to shut it up with a sleeping spell so the templars wouldn't hear. One day there was a inspection round, and we hid it in a crate in the cellars so they wouldn't find him.
I think we forgot to let him out.
Morrigan was busy filling a small pouch with some strange-looking roots when I noticed a distinct noise cutting its way through the distance. As it got closer, the muddied sound grew sharper, and I finally made out the sounds of a woman yelling in distress.
"Please, help!" she cried while stumbling around the corner. Everyone was on their guard in an instant. I heard the sharp sound of Sten's half-drawn sword, as well as the clambering footsteps of Alistair and Wynne rejoining the group. The woman seemed startled by the hostility, and fell to a half-trot as she came closer, her eyes giving way to hesitation.
I raised my hand when I saw no visible weapon, though kept my hand trained in case she was a mage like Morrigan and myself. Her eyes darted to Sten, disbelieving, then back to me when the others finally relinquished and sheathed their weapons. My brow knitted together.
"What's wrong?" I asked tentatively. My question seemed to jog her memory as she mechanically broke back into a sob of distress and pointed back down the road, shaking in terror.
"Bandits! Help, please! They've attacked my father's caravan-" she was stumbling so much over her words it took a few tries to get the entire explanation out. I stopped her before she could finish.
"Show us."
Only a few steps into the journey, she let out an abrupt squall of pain and fell, breathless, onto the ground. A nervous twinge twisted in my gut. We moved forward, and I knelt beside the woman to check her pulse. Still breathing. Morrigan shot me a concerning look.
"Wynne," I called without looking up. She appeared at my side a moment later, not needing explanation.
"I will stay and watch over the girl; go help the others," she offered quietly while taking my place at the girl's side. I still felt uneased by the whole situation. My eyes fell to Sten.
"Sten, I need to you stay with Wynne, just in case," I flashed guarded, hardened eyes at him. He nodded in understanding.
"As you wish, Warden," he answered before stepping closer to Wynne. I motioned to Leliana, who moved back on instinct to Bodahn's cart. She began to guide the braying mules back around a cluster of trees for safety, leaving just myself, Morrigan, and Alistair.
"What if there's darkspawn?" Alistair yelped in fear when we saw fire beginning to curl over the low hill ahead. My eyes narrowed - Morrigan felt it, too.
"It's not darkspawn, Alistair," I murmured over my shoulder as we moved to a cluster of boulders. "We would both be able to sense them," I reminded him with a grating tone. He sniffed, stepping behind a tree adjacent to me.
"Then why are we sitting here hiding?" he demanded. "Her father could be hurt! Do you not see the fire?" I could sense the tension building from him, but ignored it. I tried focusing hard past the roar of the fire to listen, though my instincts had already told me what I needed to know. Morrigan felt the same - her silence enough agreed with me.
"Because this is an ambush, Alistair, not a rescue," she finally joined in. Alistair absorbed this new information, then finally sunk down against the trunk.
"Oh," was all he managed. He had learned at such a point in our journey that when either myself or Morrigan had a hunch in the wilds, it was usually correct. There was a point when he simply stopped disputing our proof and thus embarrassing himself.
I had managed to slip us, undiscovered, around the south circle of the ambush. However, I had not counted on the archers perched high above the orchestrated trap. In the center of the clearing burned the fabled cart. True, someone had ambushed and lifted the cart goods. However, by the charred remains scattered around the cart, they had long since been relieved of suffering. Alistair made a disgusted noise in his throat and gagged. I felt Morrigan shift beside me to slap him on the arm for making so much noise, but it was too late. The archers had spotted me.
"Move!" I shouted at them both before jerking Alistair back in time to avoid one of the arrows. It pierced the bark of the tree. We burst from the bushes as startled animals, scattering in every direction to spread out our chances. I darted directly down the middle, whilst Alistair and Morrigan I imagined darted off in either direction to circle the camp. My first and instinctive rule I had always emphasized: take out the archers first.
I ducked into a roll before another arrow could catch me, then narrowly leaped over a collection of broken debris and rock meant to be a barricade to circle up the path. Perhaps the archers hadn't expected such a direct attack, or perhaps they were surprised it was coming from a mage. Either way, they were all frozen in a paralysis spell before having a chance to pull out their combat weapons.
The archers temporarily taken care of, I took the opportunity from my high stance to scope out the field. Bandits had materialized from the surrounding wood, and in the deep veins of my body I felt the anger boiling to the surface. Taken advantage of. Used.
That woman will have wished her death by the time I'm done with her..
I took advantage of the slope to single out attackers that swarmed both Morrigan and Alistair. From atop the overhang, I could see in the distance that Sten had abandoned Wynne to come storming towards the now-obvious fighting over the hill. However, I hadn't counted on a very strong and well-thronged barricade teeming with Mabari at the base on the other side of the hill where we had been expected to come in. The hounds rushed at Sten, and I was forced to turn my attention back to my companions on the field.
The most I could manage to do for them was strategically filter and control small crowds of the attackers. There were far too many; enough that my stomach twisted inside, telling me they had expected not only someone for their trap, but a someone very specific. The only enemy that came to mind outside of the Tower sent my blood into a violent chill, and heat creeping up my spine. My actions became less merciful, and my spells more vindictive. I began to attack with horror hexes, and entropy magic that Irving had bid me warning only to use in the case of a dire emergency.
Morrigan sent a mass electrocution spell onto the field when she became too overwhelmed. I wanted to yell, to warn her in time, but it was too late as I saw the lightning crackle overhead and touch the ground. In seconds it lit up, enflamed, and rose in specific lines all around the ground.
Cowards, you knew we would fight you with magic..
I saw Alistair fall across the field when the surprise of lit fire caused him to look away, briefly, to Morrigan. He was overwhelmed by his attackers and bashed across the head by one of their shields. Morrigan called out to him and began to rush across the field, only to be caught by a brief but painful paralysis herself as she crossed one of the mage's glyphs. Two still remained, as well as the group of bandits with swords standing over Alistair. Panic swept over me.
What do I do?
Mortality froze me to my spot. The archers had finally awoken, and I was forced to take a leap from the ledge. Though I attempted to roll and break my fall, it did not lessen the pain of impact. I grunted and rolled to my feet, narrowly jumping out of the way of the flames to face the two magi. They seemed only just aware of me in that moment, and quickly turned their magic on me instead.
I had used most of my strength to control the field, and now my power was waning. My body was physically spent, and I was certain I'd broken my still-healing ankle on the fall. Desperation tore at my throat as I drained the last of my spells in hysteria, shooting futile ice towards both them and the fires inching towards my companions.
It was then that I met eyes with the leader of these killers. He emerged from the smoke and fire as a beast from the hellfire of the Black City. His eyes were warm with the chill of death, and smile perched upon a deceptively charming face. He wore fine leather armor and jewelry. I saw the daggers braced in both hands, and knew then this was not a simple bandit. I screamed at him in my rage, furious he would deem it fair to deceive his prey in order to avoid fighting.
"You coward!" I screamed at him. Fury overtook me. I was blind, though in hindsight recalled Sten finally breaking through the barricade and straight towards the magi, followed shortly by both Wynne and Leliana. My eyes bore into the assassin.
My hand found its way to my dagger before I realized, and plunged into my palm. Amidst the roaring fire and smoke, the others did not see. Pain filled my body, then the warmth of power as it slipped out of my palm and into the air. I spread my palms towards the assassin, who had since witnessed my other companions joining the fight and found it a lost cause. He was turning to run.
My hands burned with revenge, my heart screamed for suffering. I was filled with an all-consuming rage that blinded my vision and hearing. No amount of shouts to stop kept me from rendering him helpless, twisting him into the air. I had broken his leg by the time I finally felt hands drag me back and filter in the sound around me. Morrigan was shouting my name.
"Isthalla, stop!" she demanded. I did. My hands dropped limply at my side, as did the assassin in front of me. He hit the ground with a considerable thud, followed by painful groans while clutching his leg.
It took a moment for the high to leave my blood. I blinked, the fog leaving, and turned to find Morrigan staring worriedly at me. She said nothing, only pressed her lips together and turned back to go check on Alistair. He was just waking up.
"He's the leader," I croaked, finally finding my voice again. The rage was ebbing away, though I could hear her cackling in the back of my mind, delighted.
Did you love the power, my darling? Did it burn and ache with pleasure in your veins? That is my embrace for you, my pet. My little mage.
Her voice faded with a final chuckle of warm laughter, and I shook my head. The assassin had since gathered himself, but remained on the ground clutching his bleeding leg. Despite the pain I knew to be coursing through his veins, a faint smile threaded on his lips, and a sharp glint twinkled in his eyes. I was a bit taken aback by the image, but nonetheless stormed up to him and crossed my arms.
"Who sent you?" I demanded. Sten took up alongside me, staring the assassin down. I realized, now, that he was an elf- like myself. I glared.
"A name, elf!" I spat, sending a sharp kick to his leg. He only allowed a quick gasp in response before holding his breath and shutting his eyes. He was controlling his reaction. He knew I would kill him. Smart boy.
"Funny thing, that you use that word like an insult," he chuckled. The blood surfaced on his lips as he laughed, trickling down his chin. He coughed a bit, then dipped his head low again to recollect himself, and then looked up with a wide, slightly bloody smile. "Such ferocity for such a beautiful woman," he mouthed in a foreign yet velvet accent.
I felt a bit startled in that moment by such a bold statement. Either he was trying to warm up to me in order to consequently save his own hide, or truly Morrigan had done a fantastic job. I was more apt to believe the prior. This man had just tried to kill me, after all. I offered a dour and cruel smile.
"Courtesy will not save me for cutting out your tongue for sheer annoyance, assassin," I sneered with displeasure. "A name, if you will. I do not have all day." I kicked him again, this time across the face. He grunted and let out a chuckle.
"Very well, my viperous beauty," he laughed through coughs of splattered blood that decorated the ground in front of him. "If you wish to know, truly, who wanted you dead - then you shall have your answer." I waited, and he took a pause to turn enough to look me in the eyes. I am ashamed to say I felt a blush creep up my neck by his expression.
"Loghain," he mouthed unimportantly. Though I had suspected the name and burned it into my conscious, hearing it aloud was something I had yet to prepare myself for. Rage boiled up within my stomach and into my chest. I wanted to kick something, and opted this time to take out my fury on a nearby rock. It soared into the outlying woods. The assassin laughed at my frustration.
"I see he was an acquaintance of yours, perhaps?" he tried. Another sharp kick to his abdomen, and this time I was surprised to find Sten pulling me back. His look of concern forced me to calm myself, and with a regretful sigh I re-crossed my arms and forced myself to stay a few feet away.
"You could say that," I ground out. Alistair had finally join the party, and wobbled up beside Sten with Morrigan behind, righting him into place when he swayed to the side. My eyes flicked back to the elf, who had not since removed his gaze from my figure. I felt distressed by the way he looked at me. The burn began to spread to my ears.
"You are Grey Wardens, are you not?" his question surprised me a bit, though I suspected Loghain would have at least told him that much. No use sending in an assassin unprepared. I nodded, and he continued. "This Loghain fellow certainly wanted you both dead; I was paid a great deal of money to ah, remove you from his Ferelden."
"Ferelden is not his country," Alistair interjected rather coldly. "It belonged to King Cailan and his family." The assassin absorbed this information, and clicked his tongue.
"Ah, I see. My apologies," he nodded. I was briefly surprised by the courtesy, but continued to set my wary eyes on him. He had the type of gaze that would fool you into handing over everything you owned. By his smile, his quirks, and even his accent - he was armed to disable his foe. I understood that much.
"Who hired you," I demanded. He seemed confused by my question, then offered me a condescending smile.
"Why, Loghain, my sweet captor - if you hadn't forgotten already?" he tried. I could hear the poison in his voice, and reviled it. My frown deepened into a snarl. It took all of my willpower to resist the urge to kick him again.
"Who do you work for, elf?" I spat. "Loghain was your commissioner, not your employer. I doubt he would have picked up and hired a rogue off the streets." He seemed surprised by my derailment, and raised his brow to emphasize.
"Oh, ah," he laughed, a bit nervous. "I suppose it would come to that…" he tapped his chin. "Ah, well - the Antivan Crows, if you must know. Though I suspect now I will be killed by them, so telling you will be of no consequence." I narrowed my gaze.
"And why is that?" I demanded. He paused, absorbing my stance, and moved to sit up. His leg was broken quite badly, though despite the seeping blood and fragments of bone threatening to break through the skin, he was very calm as he sat up and adjusted it in order to face me. He put the weight of his body on his left hand.
"You see-" he grunted, adjusting again, then looking up at me. "I was unfortunately given no room to fail this mission. And seeing as how we did not count on having a band of trained companions tagging along, it seems I have put myself into a great predicament." He smiled at me, and I found myself amused by the assassin's disinterest in the fact he was going to die today. Either he was truly arrogant, or he truly did not care. Either option intrigued me.
I had to withhold a slightly bemused smile of interest as I took a step forward, wary of the nodding look from Sten, and crouched in front of the elf. His eyes smiled at me in a way I knew to be deceivingly genuine. If it had been a different situation and a different time, I would have even said he was genuinely handsome, and he was genuinely honest when he thought of me as attractive. Genuine.
Though I doubted it.
"And this is where you're supposed to convince me why you're worth keeping alive?" I tested, careful to keep my voice low so the others wouldn't hear. A bitter grin crept across his lips.
"Now, I wouldn't expect you to be quite so generous, beautiful Warden," he murmured back. "You intend to kill me, and you do not seem the type of woman to go back on her word."
"No, I'm not," I answered truthfully, unable to curve the small smile on my lips. "Loghain was a foolish man; it was his mistake to send you in so unprepared."
"I certainly see that now," he nodded in agreement. "And what a fiery mage you make; it brings me great pleasure to be abused by a beautiful woman like you before my death."
"I told you flattery wouldn't work, assassin," I smirked, feeling the heat and vile creep up my neck. I could feel my line of judgment skewing. I knew he was saying it simply to try and charm me, but yet I felt a certain pleasure in hearing it. I imagined outside of work he was quite the lover. My neck burned with the thought, and I briskly moved back a few inches. I had been too close. He chuckled, seeing my brief moment of confusion.
"I only speak what I see is true, Warden," he grinned. "My name is Zevran. Zevran Arainea." He looked at me expectantly, but I only offered him a curt and condescending grin.
"Ah, the sly vixen will not tell me her name, despite me knowing it already. Beautiful and proud, what a spicy combination." We were still speaking in murmurs, though slightly louder as the others began to bore down around us both, eager to find a solution. Alistair seemed aggravated. Sten said nothing.
"And what if I were, say, to give you the option of staying alive. For now," I paused, making emphasis on the for now part. "What would you do to convince me?"
"Other than the fact that I am one of the best assassins in all of Thedas, and can pick the lock of an castle estate cell in twenty seconds, and have escaped the clutches of an Orlesian noblewoman unscathed?" he tried, flashing another daring smile at me. I had to resist the urge to return the smile. I nodded, waiting to see what he'd say.
"I would say…" he paused, contemplating his approach. "That I also offer great company to beautiful women such as yourself, should you need someone to warm your bed for you." With that he offered a small wink, and I felt the blush instantly creep to my neck, though I said nothing. Before I let my self-consciousness get the best of me - and the fact my new wardrobe had a dangerously low neckline flaunted quite casually in front of him - I spoke up.
"How do I know you won't still kill me in my sleep and get your reward?" I asked quite coldly, standing and crossing my arms. From up high, the intoxication he'd somehow enveloped around me left, and I felt the blush leaving. He paused only for an instant, though my mind was already filled with triumphant confidence that I had finally won.
Tell me that, assassin… you cannot talk your way out of that one.
"Well…" he mouthed very carefully, studying the ground. "I would say… that my loyalty lies with the highest bidder." He looked up, genuine, and I felt a sharp stab of surprise twist in my gut. Honesty. There was no mistaking it. I would laugh if I didn't feel so self-conscious right now, my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
"Very well, assassin. You're of more use to me alive than dead," I decided. I offered my hand. "But trust me when I say-" I pulled him up. His hand was warm and bare against mine. "-step out of line and I will tear off the rest of that leg without hesitation." I met his calm, warm brown eyes with the brimstone of my threat, boring down into him with a sharp glare. He understood, and nodded.
"What, we're taking the assassin with us now?!" Alistair finally hollered from the back of the group. I had forgotten he was awake now. Forcefully slinging the elf assassin's arm around my shoulder, I helped him begin to limp back to the cart. He smelled of firewood and cinnamon. Crisp, sharp, and intense. I ignored the fact he was more than comfortable leaned into me, and allowed Sten to take lead.
"Shut up, Alistair," Morrigan barked.
A shortly following yelp told me she'd slapped him across the arm again. He said nothing more on the walk back to Bodahn's cart.
"We'll drive into the woods east-bound and find a clearing over the hills to rest for the evening," I announced once we had regrouped. "I imagine there will be bandits that escaped to go alert their masters-" I turned to the assassin for assurance, who nodded briefly, then back to the others, "so we can no longer stay on the northern road to Denerim; we'll go through the forest."
"But that'll take twice as long!" Alistair scoffed. I shot him a look of irritation. That seemed to shut him up enough.
"Right, well," he paused, fidgeting and suddenly overly conscious of himself. "I suppose I'll need new walking boots, then." Though there was a note of clear distaste in his voice, he did not dispute my decision for the rest of the afternoon.
Perhaps this new look was more intimidating after all.