"What? Her-"
"Nike!"
She turned at the call of her name, and saw Alistair and Leliana. Dropping his sword, the former templar was hugging her tightly, lifting her right off her feet before she had quite realized who he was.
"Alistair!" she said, surprised and uncomfortable. Being enveloped in a hard bear-hug doled out by someone in full plate armor wasn't a pleasant sensation. As her eyes refocused and she tried to get her breath, she realized she could see the handle of a dagger sticking out of his back.
"Ah, the intrigue grows," she heard Zevran say, amusement still in his voice. "I-"
"Still your tongue before I loose it from your head," Morrigan said hotly. Nike barely heard her over Alistair.
"Y-you're alive!" he said, his voice thick and frantic. "You're alive! I was certain you were-…the arrow, and the blood and…how are-"
"Alistair!" she tried again, and he suddenly held her out at arm's length, his face damp and in high color.
"I-I-I'm sorry, I wasn't…how-?"
"Alistair, you have a knife sticking out of your back!"
"What? I-"
He turned his head, then actually turned in a circle as he tried to see his own back. Nike grabbed him to stop his motion and Leliana stepped up, taking hold of the blade.
"Adrenaline," the bard said calmly, looking at Nike, "I don't think it's deep; it'll keep for now, until we can treat it."
"Are you hurt?" Nike asked her. "Wynne? What about Sten-?"
"I have a few bruises, but no injuries," Leliana told her. "The last I saw of Wynne, Sten, and the golem, all seemed uninjured, but I am not sure where they have gotten to. You, however…"
Her eyes moved from Nike to the situation over her shoulder, focusing on Morrigan before a frown creased her forehead. "I cannot say that I am comfortable with-"
"What care have I as to your comfort?" Morrigan asked her tautly. "Perhaps you would rather see her dead-"
"I would prefer nothing of the sort!" Leliana replied. "I am…no. I do not think this is the best time for this discussion. We have a 'guest'."
"Please, do not stop on my account," Zevran said with a smile. "It is one of my favorite pass-times, to watch beautiful women argue with each other."
"Shut up!" Nike said, her mood worn to the fraying edge. Taking Alistair's dagger off his belt she stabbed it into the tree beside Zevran's head to punctuate her point, and the elf nodded, falling silent.
Turning to Alistair Nike said, "You need to sit down until we can get that wound looked at. Leliana, were any more of these 'Crows' alive?"
"Is that who they are, the Crows?" Leliana asked, then shook her head. "I saw none left, but I am unsure how many were in the ambush. I will go and find the others if I can, gather the horses. We still have some edevas in the saddle bags."
Nike nodded and as the Sister slipped off into the trees her eyes went back to Alistair. He was still standing there, damp with sweat and staring at her.
"Alistair," she said again, carefully. "Sit down. Are you hurt anywhere else?"
"I don't think so," he said, and the color increased in his face again as he moved over to one of the fallen trees and sat down awkwardly on it. He groped one hand over his shoulder momentarily, looking for the dagger handle, but it was out of his reach.
Nike turned back to the elf. "How many were in your company?"
"Seven," he said without hesitation. "Telfe- she's the one that shot you, you'll remember- is dead. I also saw Dikrek and Laney fall with my own eyes."
"Morrigan incinerated another- a human male," Nike said, and he nodded.
"That would have been Lars. He was the only human male in our company. That is four dead, and myself a prisoner. You are missing another pair of elves- both men. One a ginger, the other very dark of hair."
"You're surprisingly helpful," Alistair said to him glumly.
"As I was saying to your lovely companions before you approached, I am more than happy to tell you anything you wish to know. I am, as is quite obvious, entirely at your mercy."
Nike reached out and took hold of Alistair's dagger again, yanking it out of the tree. Her eyes burned into Zevran's.
"You have until my hound returns to convince me as to why we should not kill you," she said. Before he could speak, however, Morrigan interrupted.
"What argument is there to be had?" she asked angrily. "What convincing do you imagine you need? This man would happily kill you for coin- that has already been proven."
"The time for that has passed," Zevran told her. "You have nothing more to-"
"We have nothing to fear from you?" Morrigan said. "A hired and trained assassin? We should simply take your word? Why, Nike, whatever was I thinking? We have his word! Forgive me, elf. You did tell us how you are light-hearted by nature, surely you could not harm a fly! By all means, let us unfasten you and hand you your dagger!"
Zevran laughed. It was a hearty sound. "You are spirited! I do like that. My dear lady, I would not dare to claim myself harmless, nor that you should simply accept my word. I can only offer you your options. You have beaten me. My life is as good as forfeit to the Crows for failing in my contract. As such, these are the options."
He looked again to Nike. "You are entirely in your rights to kill me, and though I admit to a certain level of personal disappointment in such a choice, I would completely understand. You may also leave me here, tied to the tree. There is a possibility I will escape but, well, the trussings seem first-rate, and I must commend your lady mage once again on her skill. It is more likely that I shall simply stay here until I die of thirst or starvation or a hungry wolf happens by who enjoys pretty prey such as myself."
"So far I am enjoying the options," Morrigan said coldly.
"Or, you can release me, and I will join your company. This, naturally, works out very well for me."
"And stab us in our sleep?" Nike scoffed. "Do you honestly think that we are that stupid?"
"Nothing I have seen of you or your companions thus far has indicated anything of the kind," Zevran told her. "It is in my best interests, however. I remain alive, and as the Crows will be hunting me for this failure as surely as they are hunting you, we can help each other. I will give you the benefit of all of my not-inconsiderable experience and advice, that will undoubtedly help you to avoid future Crows fulfilling their contract with Loghain-"
"Loghain?" Alistair said, and was ignored.
"- and in return I keep my life. I am afraid, however, that I have nothing to offer to prove my good intentions other than my word that I owe the Crows no particular allegiance and that I have, rather surprisingly, discovered I also have no desire to die."
"You thought you wanted to die?" Nike asked, folding her arms.
"That is a long tale, one I will be happy to share later on should these…negotiations…present conditions conducive to my doing so. But yes, as recently as an hour ago, I had little to no care for my continued existence but now directly faced with my mortality, I find I would rather miss living, and would like to continue to live for the foreseeable future."
"The only thing that I foresee for your future is a great deal of disappointment, but for a blessedly brief amount of time," Morrigan told him.
"I believe I may be able to offer an alternative option," Wynne said, once again turning everyone's heads. She and Sten were standing behind where Alistair was sitting, the mage straightening from where she had been looking at the dagger hilt in his back.
"Oh?" Nike asked, and Morrigan scowled.
"Alternatives are not necessary. I do not see any reason to further this discussion. The man is an assassin, and we cannot trust him. He dies."
"No, we cannot trust him," Wynne said. "But we may still be able to use him."
"What are you thinking, Wynne?" Nike asked.
"He could be of use to us, and he does seem genuine. I do not believe that he intends further harm to us; however, I do understand and agree that we cannot trust him. He wants his life, we want to be safe from the threat he and his 'friends' pose to us, so I propose this. Morrigan, are you familiar with blood-binding?"
"I am," Morrigan said, her brows knitting. "Tis blood magic-"
"Which you seem to have no moral difficulty with performing," Wynne said calmly, and looked at Nike meaningfully. Morrigan's temper flashed up again.
"I will ask you the same as I asked that Chantry zealot. If you would rather I had let her die-"
"I'm not judging you for saving Nike's life," Wynne told her. Nike looked over at Morrigan again, in surprise this time. She knew that Morrigan had used magic to heal her but hadn't had opportunity to really think about it. Had she truly used blood magic?
Yes, of course she did. The only other options would have been edevas and lyrium; we have little to no lyrium with us and edevas- if that arrow truly was in my heart…
She remembered the bolt that had struck Morrigan in Redcliffe Castle, and how Jowan had used blood magic to heal her from her mortal wound. She remembered the way the blood had dripped upward from his arm into the air as he traced runes in the air, and the way the blood on Morrigan's arm had seemed to be doing the same, in that groggy half-seen image before the mage was ripping the arrow from her chest.
Her fingers stole up unconsciously again to her blood-stiff shirt, and the hole that had been torn into it.
"I am merely pointing out that you do not share my reservations about performing such magic, and have more experience in doing so than I do," Wynne was continuing. "My knowledge of blood magic is a great deal of academia, but no practical experience. I do not suggest doing this lightly, but it is an option open to us."
"What exactly are you suggesting we do?" Nike asked. "What is blood-binding?"
"She suggests that I can bind this elf to your life," Morrigan said. "Using blood magic, I can create a magical bond directly through your blood that would create an unshakable tie between your life and his."
"In short," Wynne said. "If you die while the blood-bond is in effect, our elf assassin here would also die. In whatever manner the binder- that would be Morrigan- chooses to devise. It would incentivize our elf to not only restrain himself from doing you harm, it would further incentivize him to keep you alive no matter what. He'd be compelled to keep you safe."
Nike's brows knit, and she looked at Morrigan, and then at Zevran. If the idea of being blood-bound bothered him any, he was not showing it.
"Can he be bound to Alistair as well?"
"That's sweet," Alistair said with a tired, boyish smirk. Nike gave him a dry look.
"I am not the only Grey Warden here that is a target," she said, then looked at Wynne. "Can he be?"
"Unfortunately, the blood-binding only will tie him to one at a time, but not both," she said. "I see no reason, however, to not make that a part of his 'contract'. If he fails to keep Alistair safe as well, he can be normally executed."
"That's a little dark for you, isn't it Wynne?" Alistair asked. Wynne gave him a gentle smile.
"I do not like the idea," she admitted. "However the situation is as it is. We cannot trust him. The blood- binding is simply insurance that he does not act against us."
"What would stop him from just abandoning us and going back to the Crows? Telling them where we are and leading more to us?" Nike asked. "Other than if they kill me he'll die?"
"More or less just that," Wynne admitted. "It will be in his interest to remain close enough to defend you in battle, or to warn you of other ambushes or assassins that may be in your path."
"And what happens to me? I mean, if we are blood-bound, does it work both ways? If he was killed would I-?"
"No. His life would be tied to yours, however yours will not be tied to his. You would suffer nothing if he were to die or be killed."
"You said that he would die 'in whatever manner' Morrigan chooses to devise."
"Yes. It is up to the one casting the spell to determine how his death would come, in the event of yours. He could simply drop, lifeless, to the ground. Merciful, no pain. Or, he could boil to death with an untreatable fever in agony for weeks on end. He could go out of his mind and throw himself off a cliff, or drown himself in cask of wine-"
"I do kind of like that one," Zevran said with a smile. "I can think of much worse ways to go."
"Yes," Wynne said, eyeing him guardedly. "It would be up to Morrigan."
"Would this binding be for life?" Nike asked. "I mean, you have said he would die if I died which gives him incentive to be a sort of bodyguard and keep me safe, but how long does this binding remain in effect?"
"As long as I wish it," Morrigan said. "It would stay until I released him from it."
"Which gives me incentive to treat you with charm and kid gloves as well," Zevran told Morrigan. "Not that I need an excuse, you are quite-"
"You will not finish that sentence; either willingly or because I have turned you into ash," Morrigan told him.
Nike looked at her, then regarded Zevran thoughtfully. Finally she said, "Morrigan, it's up to you."
Immediately the apostate turned toward Zevran, her hands lighting with fire. Zevran saw the look on her face and clenched his eyes shut. "I understand," he said breathlessly. "I cannot say I would not do the same in your shoes. I wish you well."
"Do shut up!" Morrigan snarled, and one of the vines that had been holding him to the tree shifted upward and gagged him. At some point she'd picked her dagger back up, from where Nike had dropped it on the ground. The flames of her hands faded away as she drew the dagger. She swept the edge in a quick strike over Zevran's cheek, making Nike wince. Blood began to spill down his chin in rivulets. Scraping the edge of the blade over the rivulets, she gathered the blood on the edge of the blade, then looked over at Nike.
Meeting her eyes, Nike walked over, lifting her hand toward Morrigan. Far more gently than she'd struck Zevran, Morrigan carefully dug just the tip of the dagger into Nike's palm, drawing a single bead of blood. Lifting it on the tip, she pressed her thumb to it, then smeared it along the blade to mingle with Zevran's blood.
Rust colored mists filled her eyes as she fixed the elf with a look, and pressed her now bloodstained thumb hard to his forehead. He winced and jerked, and Nike saw Morrigan's thumb smoking as if she were holding a burning brand to his forehead.
"Your life is bound to hers," she said stonily. "If she falls, you will die. You will die painfully, slowly, as your entire body is incinerated inch by loving inch; starting at your feet, and leaving you quite exquisitely aware for as long as it is possible. Do you understand, elf?"
Zevran, his eyes still clenched tight and whisps of heated smoke still drifting up from her thumb, nodded quickly.
Morrigan didn't release him, however. Instead, she leaned even closer, all but whispering in his ear.
"I am never going to let you free of this oath, elf. Am I clear? The very bones of the world will turn to ash before I release you. It will never happen. Never."