Chapter 13

I stand amongst the fallen rubble of an old ruin, overgrown with moss and alive with the whispers of a thousand generations. The breeze howls around the corners of the withered stone and afternoon sun shines brightly on the broken walls around me. It has taken me many weeks from Seheron to here where the merchants say Adaar was last seen.

"Breath-taking isn't it?"

The voice is older and slightly accented, but I would recognize it amongst a thousand others even after all these years. I do not turn around, but instead wait until she is standing next to me before I look at her. She looks exactly like she had that last night I saw her, but have traded in her blacksmith's attire for furs that I have seen the Dalish clan wear in Brecilian forest. A staff is strapped to her back, emanating the faint crackling sound of lightning energy and I can only wonder where she acquired such an object. She gestured at the walls around us.

"Ostagar - built during the Tevinter Rule as fortress to keep the Chasind away from the fertile lands to the North. It is abandoned now, but as impressive as ever."

There is a few minute of silence before she turns around to face me.

"I expected you sooner, Sten."

"You know why I am here then, Adaar."

She nods her head, her face expressionless.

She walks up to me, and the familiar scent of sandalwood and sage assaults my nostrils. She stands on her toes and presses cool lips against my cheek, lingering there for a few seconds. I have seen humans do this as a form of greeting, but it is an unknown custom to me and I do not respond. Too late I feel the slight pressure of her warm palm against my chest – a traditional Qunari gesture meant to ask for forgiveness. I have no time to draw my sword before the energy erupting from her hand on my chest sends me sprawling backwards, a white hot pain searing through my flesh. I cough, trying to find my breath but my wind has been knocked from me and I am left wheezing for air, mentally kicking myself for not having my guard up and allowing her so close to me. My skin is smouldering from the burn wound.

I struggle to my knees, but my limbs are numb and I cannot keep my balance long enough to stand upright. When her boot connects with my ribs I go down again, and this time I stay down. My face is buried in the wet dirt of the ruin and I can feel the slight pressure of Asala on my back. Adaar kneels with her knees on either side of me, crushing my numb arms to my sides as she pulls my head back by my horns, exposing my throat to the razor sharp dagger she pulls from her boot. A drop of blood squeezes out where the blade cuts my skin and her breath is warm in my ear.

"You are a fool, Sten. You follow the teachings of your Qun without fail or question and where has it brought you? Sprawled on the floor of a godforsaken ruin, at the mercy of the abomination you despise so much. I am curious to know what promise the Arishok made you in exchange for my head on a pike?"

I slam my head backwards, breaking her nose with a sickening cracking sound. She shrieks and falls backwards, dropping the dagger in the grass. I jump up and kick at it and pull my sword from its sheath on my back, and swing it in her direction, but she rolls out of the way. Blood is gushing from her nose but she wipes it away with the back of her hand before spitting more of it onto the grass. Her hands erupt with more lightning energy, but this time I am ready and I dodge the bolt, sending it straight into a pillar of the ruin, rubble and dust flying in all directions. I cough and my chest scream in agony from the dust and the burn wound caused by her first lightning bolt, but I stay alert, ready for her next move.

Her next onslaught is from behind, careless and uncoordinated. When she slams into me I pull her over my shoulder, the second dagger she has in her hand cutting a deep wound into my cheek.

"Stop this , Adaar!" I shout, but she is blind to anything else besides her need to kill me.

She scrambles to her feet and swing the dagger at me again. When the blade flies past my face I can smell the soldiers' bane poison on it. If I expected anything else but a bloodbath, I was very, very wrong. She swings at me again, but this time I grab her wrist and twist it behind her back, her bones crunching under the pressure. She screams again, but I ignore it. Instead I pull her towards me, grabbing at her long hair with the same hand holding her broken wrist being her back, wrenching her head back to force her to look at me. My face is inches from hers, muddy and bloody, both of us panting from exertion.

She smiles a bloody smile and any hope of her yielding in combat disappears. She is mocking me, even in the face of death.

"Do it, Sten of the Beresaad." She hisses through bloody teeth. When I do nothing, and say nothing, she screams it again, but I remain silent. Tears are streaming down her face and they mesmerize me. I have never seen another Qunari cry. I know what I must do, but I hesitate, just as I hesitated when I should have killed her that very first day on the cliff. Had I not hesitated that day, we would not be standing here now.

"I cannot do this, Adaar, do not ask this of me. Let me take you to the Arishok. Die with honour."

"Ashkost say hissra, Sten."

I feel the warm skin of her free hand close around my sword hand, and realise too late what she is about to do. When Asala's blade pierces her heart, she jerks and inhales sharply, but makes no sound. Immediately I feel the warmth of her blood spilling over both of us and she goes limp in my arms. She is too heavy to hold upright, and I sink down on my knees, cradling her close. Her breaths are shallow and raspy and a thin trail of blood seeps from the corner of her mouth, staining her teeth and lips further. Her hands grip my arms and she spends what little energy she has left to pull me closer. When she speaks I have to lean in to hear her whisper.

"Meravas, Kadan."

It is long past sunset when I finally lower her to the grass. Her cold body is limp and her yellow eyes are clouded over. I pull my hand free from where dried blood had glued it to hers on the hilt of Asala, and when I brush her face to close her eyes, it stains her skin.

It is only a week later when the Qunari ship sets sail for Seheron, that my words of so long ago come back to haunt me.

To be fooled by the world is unfortunate. By oneself, is deadly.