Story note:
Dragon Age is property of Bioware. Original characters are mine, and are to be treated as such. If you want to adopt some of my AU changes to your own story, then, please, do so.
As promised, the next "full length" chapter. With some close-up action again. Enjoy!
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In An Age Full Of Heroes
Chapter III
Toll of Justice
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Sails stretched and spars creaked in the wind. The Siren's Call's prow carved through the frothy waves of the Waking Sea like a sharp axe-blade. The ship's gentle sway lulled his mind into welcomed numbness. Araris was grateful for every diversion that took his reeling mind off and away from his racing thoughts.
Ever since the failed assassination attempt in Antiva City he could do naught but think of eventualities. It was tiring.
Araris remained in his cabin, though it also was the captain's cabin, which she had, in a sudden fit of altruism, proposed to share with him. After a while it had proved to be anything but altruism. Selfish desire, more likely.
He had long since grown exhausted of scanning the horizon for the first sign of land. He could only pray that it'd appear soon. Alas, he participated in no such non-productive amusements, like prayer. Venerating and pleading to a dubious entity in hopeful prayer wasn't really his thing.
Perched atop Isabela's considerably large bed time passed for him, leaning against the sloping backside wall, long feet stretched out before him in idleness. Araris had sifted through the pirate queen's cabin for something to read, and, after some time, he made a find.
Though the tome proved to be touching on most naughty and depraved subjects, even with detailed illustrations, he read it. Wondrous, how much new one could learn, in such a short amount of time. He hadn't ever dreamed about of doing . . . well, half of the things described in that book. And the other half was so utterly ludicrous, to even entertain the notion of it would be madness.
The cabin's double door opened and was hastily thrown shut again. The angry whistle of harsh winds could be heard stronger for a short moment, though the vigour of the storm seemed to have subsided a bit. Hours ago, Araris had though he'd surely have to tie himself to Isabela's bed with her iron cuffs, which surely were there for that exact reason and nothing else, if only to avoid flying around the cabin in an uncontrolled and laughable fashion.
Without preamble, his gracious host shook off her drenched leathern cloak where she stood and hopped onto the bed beside him like a wet cat. Quickly, as if her life depended on it, Isabela gathered all silk sheets and wool blankets she could find, and wrapped herself tightly inside them.
Araris closed his current read and got off the bed.
'What're you doing?' The Queen of the Eastern Seas jittered.
'Getting off the bed.'
'Obviously. Why?'
'You're drenching.'
She huffed through the blankets, 'What noble sentiment.'
Araris padded over to a nearby table filled to brim with navigational maps, compasses, phallus-like figures and liquor bottles. As luck would have it, he found two goblets nearby, too. Araris could understand if someone didn't know how to deal with Isabela's depraved wit – charm, as she'd surely say - or her constant sexual innuendo or her straightforward attitude with, well, everything and everyone.
But it'd be beyond him to ever question the smuggler's lavish taste in food and drink as well as men and women.
He shared those.
Araris filled one goblet with a strong and smoky whisky from Antiva, and the other with spice red wine from . . . he didn't rightly know where. But it went down the palate very smoothly.
Seating himself on a low window frame besides the bed, legs crossed at the ankles, the young nobleman handed Isabela the goblet filled with whisky. Just as he was about to chink his goblet against hers, the pirate gulped down her beverage in one go, leaving Araris with nothing but the choice to sip his vintage in solemnness.
Discarding her goblet carelessly, Isabela said, 'Now hand me the bottle, you Fereldan posh.'
Snorting a laugh, Araris did as he was bid by the raunchy dame.
Like a new-born babe, Isabela suckled greedily at the bottle's neck. She drank as she would water. If she'd ever drink water, that is.
After a time, Isabela gasped. 'Ah, better.'
She dismissively discarded the bottle on the floor, where it ceaselessly rolled from side to side with the ship's sway, whilst she settled down in a more comfortable position.
'I hate the Waking Sea this time of the year. Storms, harsh winds and constant rain. And then there's that bloody cold coming from your country.' She shook her head. 'Unbelievable that I ever thought this could be fun.'
Araris took a sip of his red wine. 'It'll certainly be worth it.'
'I better hope so.' She eyed him suspiciously. 'If you're who you claim to be.'
He tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. 'So you've heard of me?'
'My first mate did. Your name made him all giddy. Said you were exiled for something indecent.'
'What would that be?'
Isabela peered at him closely, then shrugged under the blankets. 'Treason.'
A few heartbeats of silence reigned.
'The only treason I committed was my silence, and to let my family find out from others,' Araris admitted. 'My ostracism was self-imposed, for reasons that'll stay mine.'
'O,' Isabela mouthed, 'no need to get touchy, wasn't prying. I couldn't care less. You pay nicely and, on top of that, your pleasurable company.'
The raider, layers of blankets still tucked under her chin, shifted and squirmed underneath. Smirking wickedly, she then proceeded to lift them up slowly, exposing the elusive absence of garments she'd still worn when entering her cabin, replaced with her dusky skin.
'Now, crawl in here and help a damsel in distress get warm and cosy, would you.' Isabela bid.
Thankfully, Araris managed not to choke on the last savoured sip of red wine.
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'Land, ho!'
It drifted even through the wooden walls encasing the captain's quarters, like a wakeup call for the two spent persons tucked inside layers of silken sheets and discarded garments. Staggeringly, it even breached the barriers of Isabela's foggy state of mind.
Araris Cousland stirred into motion almost immediately.
Pushing up, Isabela tried to follow the younger man, but because of a sharp sting of pain flaring up inside her head, she reconsidered.
Right. Bottle of whisky. Mean.
Defeated, she slumped back onto the cushy mattress, massaging her temple.
Besides her she felt Araris shift through blankets and fiddle around on the floor for his residual clothing. Which seemed to prove quite the challenge, considering the gloominess of the cabin. Nonetheless, he managed in an admirably short amount of time. Unlike Isabela, who wouldn't even contemplate moving any part of her weary body.
Araris whispered, 'Isabela, up!'
She turned away, causing another flare of pain to occur, and mumbled in displeasure.
Isabela heard the rustle of a leather belt getting tied around a slim waist, followed by the clink of metal as Araris attached his sheathed longsword. The whisper of his dark woollen cloak being thrown over his slender shoulders and the drawing up of his hood registered next in her befuddled mind.
Why she so desperately concentrated on these noises, Isabela didn't really know. But it helped. Marginally. And thus, she finally managed to raise herself out of her warm and embracing bed. Just as Araris rushed out the cabin's double door.
Isabela threw over a few cloths, just few enough to not distract her hearty sailors entirely, but never mind her boots. They'd be too much effort for too little gain. Well, panties, at least. Finished clothing herself, the former pirate queen pitter-pattered out of her personal cabin on bare feet.
Arrived on the sterncastle, rudder firmly in her guiding hands, Isabela scanned the vicinity with a disgruntled gaze. Unfortunately she couldn't make out much other than ogling men.
A thick coat of drowsy mist hung above the relatively calm sea. Probably a result of Ferelden's cooling temperatures and the condensation of the rainy storm that had followed them all the way east along the Waking Sea.
Another call echoed down from the crow's nest, in more hushed tones. 'Ships ahoy!'
'How many?' Isabela shouted back.
'Five,' came the answer, rife with hesitance. Or maybe more, though that was left unsaid.
She frowned to herself.
'What flag do they sail?'
'Amaranthine!'
Just as in that particular moment, the damp mist parted like a curtain, as if scared away by divine intervention, admitting them a short view of the city of Highever.
On the right, perched on a light slope was the city itself. Rows upon of rows of buildings and huts stretched down, slowly changing into the port warehouses and taverns, lower down on the slope. Until, these in turn, gave way for the docking facilities at the end of the slope, with a couple of ships and boats docked by the shore. In front of those, a barrier had been erected, with six Amaranthine naval ships anchored there, their bulky design making it obvious that they're suited for heavy ship-to-ship fighting.
Nothing would get past them unnoticed.
Isabela's eyes wandered to Araris Cousland. But the young nobleman registered none of it, his piercing gaze was locked onto something else. Something positioned above the city.
Head whipping around, she followed his line of sight.
Left of the city and atop a rolling hill, with steep and ragged cliffs falling off into the sea below, towered proud the castle of the Cousland family. At least, she assumed that it was. Isabela had never been entirely sober on the few occasions she was near Highever. Massive banners softly winded in the wind, like slithering snakes. The castle emitted a gentle and flickering glow.
She squinted, looking closer.
As understanding dawned, Isabela's eyes widened in shock.
It was on fire.
Then, as the wind suddenly shifted its direction a slight bit, noise drifted down to them. Clear and loud in its intensity.
Screams and wails, fire eating at wood and stone, the clash of metal on metal and flesh.
By the tide.
Isabela looked over at her noble passenger, more hesitantly this time. Araris looked like a part of the ship, rooted and unmoving like carved marble. Face devoid of any human emotion. Like a lifeless husk, flat eyes stared strictly ahead, glued to his burning home. A sickly paleness clung to his skin as if all the blood in his veins had evaporated in a single heartbeat.
'Single ship's changing course!' Another shout from above. 'They've spotted us!'
'Git!' Isabela cursed herself.
She though it all over, as quick as her pissed mind would allow. The wind would be against them if they'd try to run, she was pretty confident that they could outrun these heavy and slow war-ships. But if there were other ships outside the port's enclosed space, then those would surely catch up to them, sooner or later. Or intercept them. And the Amaranthine navy, however small, wasn't to be trifled with, every sailor worth his salt knew that. Running from them like a caught lass, tumbling in the hay with the local lord's son, would be hard to explain.
She left the wheel and took to leaning on the rail, scanning the approaching vessel through narrowed eyes.
'Casavir, steer us back into the thick of the mist,' She pointed. 'Out of sight.'
Isabela paced forward to the railing in front of the wheel, addressing the tense crew below. She looked them over. Let's hope, Andraste's swaying tits.
'If they make trouble, the bastards will kiss pirate steel.' Whatever that was worth, but the crew cheered anyways. 'But for now, we tag along.'
Isabela smirked. 'Look unmindful, lads.'
'Aye,' they chorused.
Looking over her shoulder, Isabela felt unease rising up in her belly as she looked at Araris.
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A frigate, longer than the Siren's Call by many armspans, pulled up parallel alongside them. The hulls' planks nearly scraped against each other in protest. But it seemed these were indeed seasoned sailors. Many of them were clad in mail or pieces of plate armoury, as if they were expecting heavy combat, which could quickly prove to be their demise on the high seas. Or in a fight.
The Amaranthine ship's deck height was of slightly lower built than that of Isabela's own vessel. Jumping down from the Siren's Call above on the frigate's lower decks would make boarding easier for her sailors, should it come to that.
A heavily armoured knight, his features rugged, walked up to the sterncastle's railing, leaning one gauntleted hand against it. The other rested on the pommel of his sheathed longsword.
'Ho there, sailors,' he called over, 'might I ask what you're doing in these waters?'
Isabela, also leaned lazily over the railing. Elbows perched atop, head tucked sideways like a hawk, whilst resting in one palm.
'Wanted to make port in Highever, good ser. But it seems a little tight,' with her free hand, she gestured towards the harbour.
The knight actually chuckled. 'Indeed, you have chosen an unfavourable time. It'd be wisest to sail further east and make port in Amaranthine, good woman.'
Before Isabela could respond, Araris' icy voice froze every easy conversation she tried to build up. 'If we might ask, ser, what is happening at the castle?'
The knight frowned darkly at Araris' interruption.
'Arl Howe of Amaranthine brings justice to enemies of the crown.'
'And who might those enemies be?'
'The Cousland family, lad. They've been accused of espionage against Ferelden and dallying with the Orlesian empress herself, scheming to occupy Ferelden once more.'
Oh crap.
After a pause, the knight added, 'Thank the Maker that Arl Howe found out about their treachery.'
Isabela was completely sure that what happened next, happened incredibly fast. Yet, somehow, her eyes managed to track it nonetheless.
Like a released bowstring, Araris vaulted over the railing. His jump was accompanied by no outcry or shout, only the rustle of his clothes in the air and the rush of swaying waves. Mid-flight his longsword sprang free silently, barely audible. All the Amaranthine knight, eyes opened wide, had managed was to step a few paces back. With a creaking thud of protesting wooden planks and uncanny grace, Araris landed in front of the man, just shortly before his blade arched down and bit into the knight's clavicle. Through bone and flesh, the weapon scythed deep, nearly splitting the hapless man in half, stopping shortly under the sternum.
That was when the shouting and screaming and calling began. Everything fell into disarray.
Only Araris moved with clinical precision across the sterncastle's deck. Two men tried to block his path down the stairs onto the ship's main deck. The first lost his sword arm and plummeted over the railing's edge in agony. The second soldier swung his axe in a horizontal arc at Araris' exposed neck. But all his strike met was thin air, thus he lost his balance, stumbling right into the nobleman's waiting blade. He shrieked like a wild pig pierced by a throwing lance. Looked alike, too.
Extricating the longsword from the soldier's torso with a savage yank, Araris kick him down the staircase and into the arms of upwards rushing soldiery. They went down in a heap.
Shaking herself free, Isabela waved her hand unceremoniously. 'Quick, lads!'
Her sailors boarded the Amaranthine vessel with hoots, attacking everything in sight that wasn't distinctively piratic and roguish. Scimitars flashed in the moonlight. Sprays and spurts of blood answered. It took only a few dozen heartbeats. When all men on deck were overwhelmed they began to clear the decks below.
With a graceful leap, Isabela crossed the short distance between the two vessels. Sounds of fighting and dying could still be heard from under deck. But up here, everything seemed relatively serene. If it weren't for the bloodied corpses. She began following the trail of carnage, leading her steadily towards the forward deck. In between, unmoving and obviously dead, lay some of her sailors. Her jaw clenched.
One soldier's head had been nearly cut off, though there still existed a spinal connection. Exposed, it glinting ghastly and bony white in the night's silvery light. So at odds with all the gore and the dark wooden planks. Another had been pinned to the ship's foremast, slumped forward, with Araris' longsword protruding from his belly. Yet another mangled soul had lost both his legs beneath the kneecaps, cleanly severed. Not even a healer would be of much help here. He would bleed out fairly quick, but for now he was still clutching to his rapidly fading life. Isabela couldn't bear his pained sobs, so she freed him.
She found Araris at the forefront of the ship, straddling a lying corpse at the waist like a lover. Neither did move. But then again, she heard silent pleas for mercy. So maybe no corpse. Taking a few more paces forward, she could see that Araris clutched the hilt of a pale dagger with both his hands, trying to push its curved edge downward. But the desperate soldier beneath fought for every inch with mad despair.
As she came into view, the soldier's eyes flickered to her, with what emotion, she couldn't rightly say. Could've been hope or fear or something entirely else, Isabela would never know. Because, in just that single heartbeat, Araris succeeded in driving his dagger down and into the man's soft neck. The dying soldier coughed up blood with his last breath.
Araris did not move. He still clutched his dagger, finger bones protruding in a ghoulish way and knuckles white from pressure.
The he let loose an equally chilling and heart-wrenching cry of anguish.
The young man slumped back on his shins, hands cradled in his lap in a lost fashion. He looked over the ship's prow, seemingly admiring the moon's silvery reflection on the calm water.
'Araris.' Isabela croaked. Surprised at the dryness of her own voice, she cleared her throat.
Ten heartbeats of silence followed. Twenty heartbeats. Fifty heartbeats.
Sure that he wouldn't answer or hadn't heard her, or chose not to, Isabela stepped closer, touching his left shoulder. With a surprised hiss he flinched away from her, onto his feet and drew back from her, clutching the reeling. That was when she spotted the crossbow quarrel deeply lodged inside his left shoulder. He, too, seemed to register it for the first time, for his hiss quickly turned from surprise to hurt.
In a blokeish manner he extracted the projectile with a sudden yank in a gush of blood. Ghastly pale now, Araris gasped, legs nearly giving out beneath him.
Isabela couldn't contain herself any longer. 'Why, by the Maker's balls, did you do that?'
'What?' He looked flummoxed.
'Attack them!' Isabela huffed. 'We could've left without an incident. Men died because you didn't think. My men, my sailors'
Araris perplexed expression darkened into something uncomfortable. He stepped closer to her. She could feel his breath caressing her skin, like a gentle breeze.
'They're slaughtering my family up there!' He hissed, venom thick in his voice. 'My father, my mother, my brother and his wife and their firstborn son.'
He returned to leaning on the reeling, seemingly wanting to bring some space between them.
Araris shook his head sharply. 'By the Abyss, what did you think I'd do when that whoreson dragged my family through the mire? Crawl up his arse with pleasantries?'
'You could've just shut up or went underdeck. Where you could've shut up, too! Now the Amaranthine navy will have it out for me!' Isabela yelled at him. 'And they're not known for treating pirates kindly.'
She pointed an accusing finger at the nobleman. 'I don't care that they're slaughtering your family up there. You put my life and that of my crew at risk, for petty reasons. What did it bring you? Hmm?'
She pointed behind her, at the corpses covering the deck.
'Andraste's tits, they're not even the ones doing the slaughtering.'
There was a flickering spark, icy blue, in Araris' eyes. Literally. It was over so quick, Isabela wasn't even sure she really saw it, or if her mind perceived things.
Araris gazed at her in disdain, an ugly sneer on his face, teeth bared. His fingers twitched as if readying to grab a weapon, but he was unarmed. His longsword still pinned a hapless marine to the main mast, whilst his pale dagger stuck inside the nearby soldier's throat.
Isabela was thankful for that. Otherwise she wouldn't be so sure if he would've soon done something regrettable for them both.
The tension between them dissipated palpably, when her fellow buccaneers rejoined them on the main deck.
Casavir walked up to them, expression sober and alert, he switched between looking at Isabela and Araris. He seemed to have caught on to the tension between them.
'We've secured the ship, captain. Lots of loot to be found below.'
Isabela turned to the gathering. 'God job, lads.'
The rattle of sabres and the howls of adrenaline-filled men came in answer.
Isabela spread her arms in an encompassing gesture. 'Take everything shiny you can find! And then all the rest!'
Her crew sauntered off to claim their loot and freight it onto the Siren's Call. Time was now of the essence. They had to get away from here as quick as possible.
Isabela looked back at Araris.
His posture had changed. Shoulders slumped a bit, flat look in his eyes, skin continued to be a ghastly pale. His dead and defeated appearance was furthermore reflected in his voice. Devoid of emotion, he spoke in chilly and croaky tones.
'Forgive me, captain,' he spoke slow, 'If it wouldn't be too much to ask for, could you drop me off in Amaranthine?'
Isabela huffed at his antics. 'Maker's breath, are you insane. Why, of all places, would you want to go there now? If I think about it, I don't want to go there right now!'
'It would be the unexpected thing to do. The one place the Amaranthine navy wouldn't think to look.'
'And you?' Isabela arched a delicate eyebrow. 'You're just going to butcher every Amaranthine soldier you find?'
'A tempting thought, but to hope that by doing so I'd manage to kill Rendon Howe would be foolish,' said he, voice as if he iterated something off of a scrap of paper. As if those were not his own words. As if it wasn't him speaking.
Araris turned his head away in a silent rustle of bright hair. Radiant in the lucid moonlight. Blatantly he had said what he wanted to say, and would add nothing more. It left Isabela a silence to contemplate in.
She sighed. 'Very well.'
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Author's note:
If there were parts you liked or didn't, I bid you to take a few minutes and submit a review. Constructive criticism will be well received and answered to.