Rescuing Anora

CONTENT:
Rating: Mature
Flavor: Adventure/Drama
Language: yes
Violence: yes
Nudity: no
Sex: no
Other: none

Author's Notes:

In an effort not to 'save' chapters for posting, this is being posted the same day as the last (very short) chapter. Which was delayed a month, so... well... anyway. Onward!

Rescuing Anora

==#==

Morrigan circled the Arl of Denerim's estate, the midday sun warm on her back. Alistair and his assortment of odd warriors had casually entered the market to the north. The fool was gathering a crowd, eagerly telling stories of the Grey Wardens. If they eased in to asking questions about the kingship he might do all right.

Although it wasn't a military presence, per se, it attracted the attention of Howe's guards, made them nervous. None thought to question the appearance of the three Chantry Sisters, with local concerns the church wanted to discuss with the arl.

Meanwhile, the elves had managed to talk their way past the two guards at the back gate. One had elected to escort them to the servants' entrance.

Morrigan landed on a roof peak. She could circle lower to gain brief glimpses inside the upper rooms, but that might start to attract unwanted attention. If the elves or women inside got into any serious trouble, they would try to break a window. Then Morrigan would know to summon help.

She cocked her head towards the market. Alistair was really getting into his story, progressing past arm gestures to actually striding about like a stage player acting out various battles. And clearly not paying attention. Oh well. If she had to, she could get it back with her own dramatics. Swooping in and pecking his head, for example. Or maybe she could poop on him. A little crude, perhaps ,but so very, very tempting.

Morrigan hopped along the roof and glided to the west side. The elves had gotten in, and the guard had not come out.

She turned to a tree in the front yard. This should be closest to where Howe would be meeting with the Chantry representatives. Morrigan gave three hearty caws, then flew off to another tree at the other side of the estate and did so again, just to be thorough.

==#==

Leliana was justly proud of her makeup job on Erlina. Though the young handmaid was nervous, no one recognized her.

Arl Howe was indisposed, they were informed. The seneschal met them in the drawing room. He was clearly out of his depth with the various obscure workings of the church that Leliana proposed to him. He suggested they might make an appointment with the arl for a later date. Leliana just crinkled her nose at him and insisted they'd be happy to have a spot of tea and wait.

Leliana noted Morrigan's signal, but Erlina was only nervously wringing her hands. It wasn't good for the painted age spots and wrinkles Leliana had put on with such care to detail, so the bard reached over and stilled them. "Sister Gracianious, do you need to use the garderobe?"

"I - Uh - I mean, yes, Sister."

Leliana smiled at the seneschal and asked him the directions. Erlina left, and Leliana said, "She's a bit shy." She smiled a bit more, and tried to gauge if a touch more salaciousness would lead him to keep them there longer, or turn them out all the faster.

==#==

Zevran thought it might have been better to sneak up on the two gate guards and dispatch them. However, that might have been tricky, as there were more on the inside. And the roaming guards might have noticed.

As it was, they'd left one guard at the gate. They'd met the roaming guard and their escort ordered him to cover his post. That effectively left it safer for their escape. Their escort was not going to live to return to patrol or the gate, not if the elves could help it.

Bannon had assured Zevran they would stop in this thing called a mud room. Why Fereldans would need a room for storing mud, he would probably never know. The important thing was it was closed off from both the kitchen and the yard, and would have space to hide a body.

There was another guard outside the servants' entrance. Timing would be tricky.

They got inside this mudroom and before the guard could open the inner door, Bannon snapped, "Would you stop!"

The guard turned back.

"Me?" Zevran growled. "What did I do?"

They set the chest down to better argue. Bannon closed the outer door. Zevran jumped the escort who was closing in to admonish them, and stuck a dagger in his throat.

They dumped the body in a wooden bin by the side wall, and they weren't too quiet about it. Zevran frowned at the lack of stealthy finesse, but Bannon only unlatched the outer door and called, "Hey! Hey, could you give us a hand in here?"

The guard rolled his eyes and came inside to meet his doom. His body went into the bin as well.

"Take off your shirt," Bannon said. "Turn it inside out."

Zevran complied. He hadn't made the neatest kill. "Can't we put on our armor?"

"Past the kitchens." Bannon listened at the inner door, but relaxed. No one was coming. "You know, I killed my first shem right here."

"Oh?" Zevran pulled his shirt back on. "You always remember you first," he said with a grin. Was that a tinge of red in Bannon's ears? Zevran grinned all the more.

They bluffed their way past the kitchen with only a passing "Where are you going with that?" from the cook.

"It's for Arl Howe and his guests."

"What guests?"

Bannon rolled his eyes. "Not 'guests.' 'Guests.'"

The man blinked. "Oh."

Nobles were all the same. And why did they need so many rooms? Zevran and Bannon ducked into one to put on their armor. "This is where Howe paid me," Zevran mused, looking around.

"Nice. Come on."

They met a lanky old woman with a huge pot belly out in the hall. "There you are," she said. "My Lady is this way."

Zevran blinked. Leliana had outdone herself.

They passed the open archway to the entry hall. Fortunately, the guards were all facing the other way.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" one asked, peering past the shrubbery outside the window.

"I don't know. Maybe another drill?"

Erlina led them past the stairs into another hall. "Here, this... oh dear."

There was a red glow covering one of the doors, a circle of runes at the center. Erlina ran to it, but didn't touch it. "My lady!"

"Shh!" Bannon warned.

Zevran moved to the other end of the hall, checking for guards, or unfortunate servants who might spot them.

The queen's voice came from within, muffled by the door. "Erlina... be careful, they put a ward on the door."

"I've brought the Grey Wardens, Milady. What shall we do?"

"Howe's Blood Mage ensorcelled the door."

"Howe has a Blood Mage?" Bannon asked, joining Erlina at the door. "Great."

"You must kill the Blood Mage."

"Where is he?" Bannon asked.

"Well how should I know? I'm locked inside a closed room!"

"Yeah, all right. What about the window?"

"Of course they put me in a ground floor room with a window that has easy access to the yard, and didn't bother to secure it. Why do you think I'm still here?"

Bannon looked heavenward.

Zevran remarked, "She sounds charming."

The Denerim elf gave him a biting look. To the door, he said, "Did they say anything useful that might give us a clue?"

"The mage will need more blood. Howe said he has some prisoners."

"In the dungeon, no doubt," Zevran said.

"Great, I haven't been there."

"We'll have to improvise," Zevran said. "One of the doors we passed in the front hall looked secure enough to lead to a dungeon."

"Erlina," Bannon said, "get back to Leliana and Wynne before they start sending someone to look for you."

"But... my Lady."

"You can stay a few more minutes, but we will probably take longer. We'll get her out, but we can't be discovered."

Zevran told her, "If someone comes, pretend to touch the door, then fall to the ground. Tell them you were curious about the runes." He followed Bannon back the way they'd come.

The heavy oak door was locked, and Bannon set to work, but almost immediately stood back. Before Zevran could ask what the problem was, the door swung inward. Wow, his lover had extremely fast hands.

The thief darted forward with his dagger and thrust it into the throat of the guard that was just emerging. The man barely let out a squeak, but then tumbled down the stairs in a series of bumps and thuds. The elves leapt down after him, landing softly as cats. Fortunately, no one had seen or heard the guard fall, but they needed to hurry now.

They rounded a corner and met two guards coming the other way. One gave a shout, then the fight was joined. Compared to the elves, the shems were slow and clumsy, and got in each other's way.

Bannon kicked his opponent in the groin, then slashed open his neck when his hands dropped. Zevran was going to have to steal that move! Not to be outdone, he drove his mark back, then finished him off with a whirling decapitation.

"We," he crowed, "are ridiculously awesome!"

Blades still wet with blood, they charged around another corner. Here were the cells, dark and... empty? Bannon came to a sudden halt and Zevran nearly ran into him. "Wh-?"

Then he heard it, a weak voice calling weakly, "Warden..."

Who was down here that knew Bannon? "We don't have time-" the assassin started, too late.

"Who are you?" Bannon asked as he went to the cell door and examined the lock. Surely the heavy mechanism was too large for his picks.

"My name is Riordan. I came with the contingent of Wardens from Orlais."

"There's a whole contingent of Wardens here?" Bannon asked eagerly. Having nothing else at hand, he jammed one of his daggers into the lock.

The man snorted. "We were attacked at the border. I was... the only one to survive. They dragged me back here."

The dagger made a horrid screeching sound, then there was a pop! The cell door swung open. A gaunt human, painted with brands and whip scars, emerged from the shadows, stooped and limping.

Zevran judged him no good for a fight. Bannon came to the same conclusion. "We need to find Howe, and his Blood Mage. Wait here until we return."

"Non, mes amis. I must be away while I can. But give me a blade."

Bannon gave him his off-hand sword. "Turn left at the top of the stairs. There's no guard outside the kitchen door."

Riordan took the sword and limped back the way they'd come.

Bannon took a moment to examine the damage to his dagger. Zevran said, "Do you have some sort of magical power over locks? Or do you always get your way whenever you stick your iron-hard shaft in a tight little hole?"

The thief smirked. "It's all in the-"

"Bannon!"

The elves whirled to the far cell. Bannon sure is popular in this dungeon, especially for never having been here before, Zevran thought, a bit jealous.

"Soris?" Bannon rushed over, jammed the shaft into the lock. "What are you doing here?"

"I was arrested for Vaughn's murder, in case you forgot! Where in the Blackened City have you been?"

"I... was..." The thief seemed tongue-tied. The lock sprang open with a clunk and the hinges squeaked with rust.

An elf, barely in better shape than Riordan, with a mop of red hair, staggered out. He didn't seem happy to have been rescued. "I've been waiting! You were so fired up to charge in here and rescue the women, I figured you would come get me in no time!"

"I... That... Well-"

"We don't have time for this," Zevran broke in.

Bannon gathered himself. "Soris, I'm sorry. Go back with Riordan."

The redhead looked about to argue, then gave up and headed out.

With that hair, Zevran quickly surmised he must be related to Shianni. So, that cousin of Bannon's who had gone with him on the estate's invasion. Interesting.

A callous voice said, "Do what you want with the blond. Bring the other one to me." Howe and three of his guards had come up on them during this little rescue.

Zevran met the shem's sneer with a wicked grin of his own. "You haven't paid me enough for that!"

He and Bannon sprang forward, eager for a fight. Howe's guards faltered in their charge - they must only be used to Purges, never having seen an armored elf ready to fight back. The thief and assassin crashed recklessly into the men, much as Bannon had charged Zevran when they'd first met. Zevran bared his teeth with the predatory thrill. He hacked with wild abandon, determined to hurt his foes, in any and every way.

He shoved his opponent towards the third man, trying to lure that one into flanking him, not Bannon, since the thief had given up one of his swords.

It worked, and suddenly, he was parrying and striking on two fronts. He drew them back, feigning weakness, away from Bannon and his opponent.

==#==

Bannon's all-out attack had put the guard on the defense, and he seemed quite content to stay there, making it hard to score a hit on him. The thief ground his teeth. They needed to finish this quickly and take out that damned mage. He heard that shem arl arguing with a woman, something about wards. Good! If the mage was too occupied with that, they were in less danger.

In frustration at his opponent's defensive stance, Bannon used his dagger to stab the man in the hand. He cried out and dropped the blade. Bannon closed in mercilessly, with a slash to the head, a dagger to the neck as the man ducked. He stabbed at a soft point in the armor, followed with a kick to the groin to put his enemy down; then he whirled and darted to Zevran's opponents. He slashed low from behind, crippling one.

Then his next stab went awry as something clobbered him in the side of the head. He staggered aside, trying to turn. That bastard Howe had snuck up and blindsided him!

==#==

"Better watch out, putos," Zevran growled. "Get too much blood on your, and your Blood Mage will use you as a walking bomb."

The one at his right reeled back, his fear of Blood Magic outweighing the loyalty to his arl. The one at his left couldn't move as quickly, not after Bannon's strike to his leg. Zevran darted in and slashed at his face. Perhaps not a killing blow, but it put him out of the fight.

Just then, the blood painting Zevran's skin and armor burst into red flame. He grinned through the pain. "Now we all die! He leapt at the last guard, who jumped away; then he dove into a roll and came up at the feet of the mage and shoved a blade through her belly. Not one to risk a Blood Mage's death spell, he thrust his other sword into her heart.

There was blood aplenty; the spray helped douse the flames. Zevran shook drops from his face as he turned. He licked his lips clean and glared at the last guard. "Shall we dance?"

==#==

Howe was a tough, wily bastard. Bannon didn't have a lot of experience fighting against an axe-wielder. The ones he had met had large battle-axes and were relatively slow and clumsy. Deadly if met head on, so he tended to sneak up behind them. Howe's was a smaller, single-bladed weapon that he used almost like a short sword.

Bannon couldn't parry the axe head, it was too heavy. If he parried the haft, he risked the blade getting past his guard, as well as getting disarmed if it hooked against his sword. He ended up catching most of the blows on his arms. The Arl was systematically shredding his leathers, with perverse delight.

He tried to maneuver around to Howe's off side, but the human wouldn't let him. He kept pushing Bannon, forcing him down the hallway, away from Zevran. Bannon jumped back, trying to get a moment to re-assess this fight, come up with a strategy.

"Aren't you precious," the shem sneered at him. "Another uppity knife-ears who needs to be purged. Just like your sister!"

Howe was clearly trying to provoke him. Unfortunately, it worked. Bannon didn't have a sister, but Shianni sprang readily to mind, her suffering at the hands of the Bann of this estate rolled into the history of Howe's Purge and quarantine, the Tevinter slavers. Plus the raw memory of Soris' battered body. All the way back to his mother's murder.

With a roar, he attacked. Howe flung out his off hand and caught Bannon in the face with a handful of dungeon muck and straw, momentarily blinding him. He tried to change direction, but he was overcommitted.

Howe moved aside, avoiding Bannon's clumsy lunge. He swung his axe and rattled the elf's skull with the flat of it.

Tears burning, ears ringing, Bannon fetched up against the wall and pushed off, twisting to dodge another blow. Howe dogged him, swinging the axe. It cracked against his knee, cut into his leg. With a cry, the elf fell to the grimy floor.

He rolled, trying to anticipate the next strike, trying to dodge it, to get away. The axe slammed into his spine, his weapon harness and armor preventing a deep cut, but doing nothing to stop the brunt of the force. Bannon cried out again, in pain and fear. Howe had a clear shot at his back. Where was Zevran? "Zevran!"

He knew better than to count on anyone else but himself, but his options were limited.

"Die you piece of -!"

There was an incoherent scream, cutting off Howe's venomous words. Then the slam of body on body, more screaming, steel ringing.

Bannon rolled over stiffly, wiping at his eyes. There was a blinding flash of reflected light, then the shem was falling back, sliding from Zevran's crimson-stained sword. He collapsed in a pool of quickly spreading blood.

Howe coughed wetly, blood drooling from his lips. His lips curled in an angry sneer as he realized he was already dead. "I..." he hacked, "deserved... more!"

"Yes, you did," snapped Zevran, jamming his sword down again into the human's gut. He yanked it back out again. "But I don't have time for more than this." He spun his blades to shed blood from them, then darted to Bannon's side. "You're hurt. How bad is it?"

"I'll be fine. Ow!" Zevran had gripped his leg. "Maker, I hope."

"This will require a tight bandage." Zevran cast about and came up with one of the guard's belts. He wrapped it around Bannon's leg while the Denerim elf gulped a small vial of healing potion.

"We don't have time to slow down." Bannon grabbed Zevran's shoulder to lever himself up. "Howe could be missed at any moment."

The assassin helped him limp to the dungeon's back stairs.

==X==