It was actually a little disconcerting for Tempest to see how well they donned the cloak of infirmity. Iron Bull sheathed his long maul smoothly, but Solas kept his staff in hand. However, with the addition of a slouch and his other hand splayed across his back, no one would assume it was anything but a prized walking stick for an old elf. She knew Iron Bull was a Ben Hassrath spy but to see Solas assume an identity that looked as if a stiff breeze could knock him over, was by far worse. She could easily envision how he had evaded the Templars all these years, the unassuming guise he wore allowed their eyes to slide over him. Bull deftly removed the sopping wet cloak from her back without a word and slung the drenched garment about his broad, bulky shoulders. Not only was it too short on his large frame, and besides the fact it was splattered in mud almost halfway up, he then pulled the sodden hood up between his horns. It was a pathetic attempt to keep the rain off his head, or at least it would look like it.
Gone was the bristling energy they both had before and in its place stood two water logged, foot sore, hobos who wanted nothing more than a bowl of stew and a dry cot. The seasoned fighter's posture had completely changed in just moments and it sent shivers down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather.
Tempest shook off the unease that had crept into her mind as she prepared her daggers with the poison. She had made it the last time they were in Skyhold. The two stepped out from behind the rock and trudged up to the hill top camp slowly. They dragged their feet to give Tempest enough time to dart from one well saturated bush to another equally inundated bit of shrubbery. As she made her way around to the rear of the second tent. In the first tent she could make out the distinct laughter of one Dorian Pavus and the nervous chuckle of what she assumed was the Boy who led them here.
No sooner had she placed a dark gloved hand on the center guideline rope than Bull and Solas walked into the encampment. Iron Bull began to complain loudly about the weather to anyone within a half mile, and Solas wordlessly limped alongside him leaning heavily on his staff. Tempest was prepared with a dagger in each hand to cut the two lines nearest to her simultaneously, when the tent flap opened and the youngest assassin stepped out, securing it behind him.
Solas took the moment to slip into Dorian's tent while Bull made grand boasts to the young assassin, which Tempest couldn't quite figure out the meaning of. That is if there was one, it was hard to know sometimes with Iron Bull. She took a deep steadying breath and settled back into the low crouch over the support rope. She waited, counting in her mind for how long it took Dorian to gear back up and exit the tent. Her thrumming heart beat spread the adrenaline to every nerve in her body as she held herself perfectly still, prepared for the coming fight.
Finally, from around the corner of the tent she spotted the sharp blue sea silk cloak Dorian treasured before it was obscured by the sweeping flash of the young scout's cloak as he stepped in front of the handsome mage.
Her wrists swept in an arch, slicing through the ropes with ease due to the sharpness of her blades and the tension in the ropes. The canvas fell forward, trapping the other two assassins under its water-heavy weight. Even before she had begun to pick her way around the cloth edges she began to smell an oily, burning odor and her eyes darted back to the canvas trap. Two bright circles appeared on the cloth, they grew brighter and larger by the instant. She jumped back, hollering at the top of her lungs to warn her team in the center of the camp. "MAGE!"
As the Inquisitor hurled herself backwards in the air. She could make out the apprentice assassin reaching to the small of his back before Bull's forearm violently collided with his head and he was flung to the side, a second reeling blow struck him as the young assassin tried to recover. Only to crash into the Kid scout, the momentum sent both youths to the ground. The slick grass had them slipping and sliding as they tried to right themselves before the other.
No sooner had her feet touched the ground when the first of Dorian's explosive fire spells rocked the camp. He let his fiery magics loose on the two assassins as they were trying to climb out the canvas hole they created with fire and blade. They screamed in agony as the flames burnt and blistered the skin, their wails only lasted for a heartbeat before Solas' ice spell froze them in place.
Tempest sprinted around the fallen canvas until she was stopped in place by their faces, blue glacial ice shimmering like a tasteless gemstone. What lay inside held no beauty. Open maw, screaming away their last breath with their heads tossed back at unnatural angles. The Inquisitor found her throat suddenly dry and a pinch of nausea began in her stomach. She was unable to turn her gaze away from these deaths. She owed them that much, to remember that they were people not nameless enemies, not faceless.
But, it was their eyes that would haunt her. The skin of their eyelids crinkled like under done bacon, lashes and brows burnt away by the first licks of white hot flame. She could still hear their screams echoing her mind, but their eyes, those she peered into trying to weigh their Judgment by that gaze alone. The brown orbs stared back full of hate, zealotry and accusation. Tempest could find no hint of goodness in them, she had learned long ago that the eyes were more than the window to the soul. They were a mirror of ones intentions.
These grotesque ice statues reminded her sharply of the Temple of Sacred Ashes and the smoldering dead frozen forever by the explosion she somehow lived through. She suddenly found she had to look away to stop the rolling of her stomach. To her, she felt as if she stood there staring at them for hours, but she logically knew it had been less than a few seconds and the fight was not yet won. The mantle of the Inquisitor slipped firmly in place, like a well-worn mask. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before she stepped aside with a slight bow to Bull. Though her companions had this fight well in hand, she kept her daggers out and ready.
The Iron Bull bellowed as he charged the iced assassins. The sound of their frozen bodies shattering pulled her eyes back to what was left of the fight. The huge Qunari had completely fractured the female mage into small crystalized chunks and shards but the male assassin had been missed mostly. In one hand he still held his stiletto up, immobile in his glacial prison, but his other arm lay in frosty pieces. The dismembered fist still clutched his other dagger. His legs were intact, holding him in the crouching position he had attempted to use.
Tempest cocked her head slightly to Solas. "How much longer will he stay frozen?"
"Only a few moments more I fear, Inquisitor." He replied staff at the ready.
Iron Bull's charge carried him down the sharp slope and it would take the bulky warrior some time to climb back up or to come back around using the small trail the many feet of their forces here in the Storm Coast had made. The rain let up into a soft sprinkle as they waited to see if Bull would make it back in time. With the sharp lift of his chin Solas let Tempest know the spell was waning.
Calmly, without much feeling, Tempest slowly stepped forward. Her Dwarven stature had her tippy toeing so she was face to face with what was left of the man she had briefly thought handsome. His deep brown eyes with pupils ringed in gold, the strong firm jaw, the teasing tilt of his high cheekbones. She didn't know what their plan had been, but if he was sent to seduce and kill her he just might have done so. Just as the ice began to tremble, she slowly placed her blades over the large arteries on each side of his neck. She steeled her eyes waiting for the last bit of ice to break before she would slit his throat, he would bleed out before his head would meet the ground under him.
A quick death. Much more than he likely deserved, he brought death for coin. He was a murder for hire. Killing was his job.
A small creeping thought nearly made her miss the crucial instant she was waiting for. It rang in her mind as she sliced his throat on both sides all the way up to his ears. It roared in her thoughts as his blood sprayed her face and flooded her armor in a red wave. It was all she could hear when his body lay at her feet.
'So do you.'
Solas' bare feet whispered across the bent grasses of the well-trod camp as he walked up beside her. He stood with her, silently watching the gushing beats of the man's heart pushing out the last of his lifeblood. It saturated the canvas and drizzled down around their feet. Tempest watched with sick fascination as it stained the pale elf's toes and spread in a growing puddle. If Solas was disturbed by the assassin's blood seeping between his digits and tracing around the arch of each foot, he didn't let on. All he did was soundlessly hold the bloody vigil with her. Solas' superior hearing must have alerted him to something as he suddenly looked up, Tempest tensed as she quickly followed his gaze. The heightened awareness that came with battle, even one short as this, still sung along every nerve. However it was not needed now.
"Boss when we going to have a real battle?" Bull asked jovially as he trudged along the muddy trail to stop beside them, panting slightly from the climb. "Hey what's with those faces? I mean the old man here always looks like this but who died?"
"Who?" Tempest shook her head slightly "I don't know his name." She said under her breath as her gaze was drawn like a lode stone to the man at her feet. She crinkled her brow at the disturbing thought as she repeated "I don't know his name." Something about the phrase resounded in her mind as she murmured it to herself a third time. The spark blazed THE BOY!
"Bull where is the scout?" She asked quickly, her eyes alert and full of unnamed urgency.
"The scout? I left her back at the boulder..." Bull began before Tempest interjected by reaching up, grabbing his harness and shaking the horned mountain of Qunari man. "No the Boy! The Kid!" A shiver of foresight danced down her spine as she spun around and scanned the empty camp.
She never really believed her Gran when the white haired matriarch of the family claimed precognition in one of her many tales of adventure, but now she knew. She just knew. The looming panic caused her to look again, harder. She noticed an area of flattened grasses that was neither of the two marked paths into or out of the temporary outpost. In her haste to follow the trail she nearly slipped and fell several times.
Her head down to carefully watch the trail she sped directly into Dorian. Who stabilized her with his warm embrace. When she tried to side step him and continue to follow the crushed grasses, he tightened his arms around her.
The golden trill of Dorian's smooth speech washed over her, making her look up, into his red rimmed eyes. "Tempest… no."
"But I don't know his name." Was all she could croak out of her fear tightened throat. She ran her blood stained fingers through her short, strawberry-blond forelocks before she ducked under his arms and ran the last few feet to the armored body that made a distinct lump halfway down the slope.
She fell to her knees. In shock the Inquisitor dropped her daggers beside her as her fingers found buckles and straps frantically, peeling away the hard shell that should have protected him until she exposed the red tunic he wore underneath. There was so much blood. It was everywhere!
Using a blade she grabbed blindly, Tempest quickly cutting away the shirt, looking for the wound. Using her other hand she tossed back the newly made flaps to stare uncomprehendingly at the channel that was above his left nipple. The blood merely pooled around it, not spurting or gushing. A warm tan body wrapped around her own as she sought to calm the riot in her mind. Dorian's perfume drifted around them both, but it was far too light to cover the sharp tang of blood. Manicured hands pried away the dagger she held tightly in her grip, but not before she came to the shocked conclusion it wasn't one of hers.
The smell of vomit was sharp in her nostrils. Dorian got her standing and walking a few paces forward before she stopped mid-stride to stare at the slim form hunched over with both arms wrapped around the trunk of a tree as if Thedas itself was shaking under his feet. Dorian patted her arm and cautiously strode towards the young man who was dry heaving beneath the boughs.
"You never killed anyone before have you?" Dorian asked, his tone dry and hard without a touch of teasing or warmth.
The would be assassin began to nod over and over as he answered. "It was an accident I, he I didn't mean to … I was just trying to stand back up before him, I … I was scared." He finally said, the tone in his speech spoke of his broken innocence. The world would never be the same for him ever again.
Tempest couldn't help but to remember the first time she had ever killed someone, she hadn't meant to either. Some fool kid had tried to rob her at knife point. Her, the oldest granddaughter of the matriarch of the Cadash Carta. She had disarmed him easily enough. He had been more hungry than smart. He rushed her, thinking her height meant she was young and would be frightened easily. She was frightened, she froze and he barreled into his own blade. She tried to help him but he died leaving her alone in the darkened cut-through with his emaciated body. She had cut away his shirt too, she remembered. She could have counted every rib he possessed. His clothes equally spoke of desperation. They were threadbare, repeatedly repaired and stained beyond recognition of a single color. He likely thought attacking and robbing her was his only choice... He was so young, too young to die.
She didn't know what made her do it, but she reached out to the boy, not with a weapon but a comforting hand and a forgiving look. He jerked back slightly as she approached him, the flaring Anchor she mused belatedly. He knelt in front of her with a wet squelching thud, his head to his chest and his arms limp at his sides. Even on his knees the lanky teen was still taller than her, so she placed her hand gently on his bony shoulder awkwardly.
"I forgive you, but actions speak louder than anything else. I do not even know his name, but I know he had to really believe in the Inquisition and the work we are doing to even be here. So for starters,… follow us,… join the Inquisition,… and if he has any family you should write them a letter… Nothing… will make it any better for them. They may never forgive you, but maybe if you tell them about your life,… before and… after,…they might understand." She spoke to him between short sharp gasps for air that had her fending off Dorian so she could finish. Her limbs shook slightly as she turned to walk back up slope.
"Deep breaths lovely, that's right, breathe in deep and let it all out. Now that's my girl." He whispered to her as she limply followed his guidance up the slope. All the way back up to the camp he gentally held her hand, but not slack enough to make her to feel lost. Eventually he seated her beside the warmth of a simmering stew pot under the open ended mess tent the survey crew had set up. While she had been down the slope someone had cleaned up, Tempest noticed as she glanced around the camp.
Her eyes flitted over the young man huddled onto himself, as far away from her as he could get while still being under the canvas canopy. Why did this one death affect her like this? She silently pondered as she watched Bull carry Lace up the hill to the small outpost from her vantage point. Scout Harding was taken directly into the well-lit tent across from where Tempest sat, waving slightly with her left arm, her dominant arm cradled to her chest.
Tempest was surprised suddenly when she realized she had been crying, silent tears left warm wet trails over her cheeks. Her eyes were gritty, each drop seemed to calm her like they were liquid sadness and she simply ran dry. She took a deep breath to steady herself as she stood. She watched both mages enter the tent after Iron Bull exited to make room for those who could do her the best healing wise.
He held the flap for both smaller men before he dropped it and strode over to Tempest and sat on one of the two other benches that ringed the hearth. "Wanna talk about it Boss?" He asked with no preamble the moment his ass touched the smooth wooden bench.
"No." She replied firmly before she shrugged his concerned hand off her shoulder and strode away. Solas must have left the bit of tent canvas she spotted in the grass for the young scout's body, she snagged it from the ground. Tempest steeled herself as she walked back down to his childlike corpse. She unconsciously ground her teeth together as she dwelt on that, for her there was nothing that should ever put those two words together.
Standing like that over his prone form, with another man's blood coating her body, made her doubt herself and the Inquisition. But as the green glow of her marked hand closed around his upper arm, she knew who to really blame. She avowed she would make him pay for this kid's death, and all the other deaths he caused, and all the pain he had wrought. She would kill his dark-spawn ass in the most painful way she could, she vowed to herself as she wrapped his body in the canvas.
Tempest braced her legs wide apart, and tested if she could carry his body by herself. When the pugnacious Inquisitor found she could do so easily, another year of age fell off in her estimation. There was no way to know his real age at this moment, but he could barely be a scrawny fourteen, if she was even any good at guessing the vintage of human children. Scout Harding would eventually be called to explain herself for having allowed a fourteen year old boy to sneak his way into the ranks and if Lace didn't know outright she should have at least suspected. Then penned a special report! Tempest also wanted to speak with Leliana on how to prevent this in the future, she knew that the dragon lady had spies everywhere, especially inside Skyhold. This would not happen again.
With his armor on, she would not likely have been able to hoist him over her shoulder. Once all the heavy armor was removed regard, she carried him down the slope. The anger burning inside her grew with each time she found someone who failed this child even back to before he joined the Inquisition. She raged blackly about made up merchants along the way that just must have seen him! About parents who were negligent even if they were dead by not looking to the worst possible future for the boy. Each person she named along the way, herself included, fueled that dark rage that drove each step she took. First those in sand then those in mud, lastly those that took her up and over boulders she had already set foot upon today. She found her rope right where she thought she would. Solas having discarded it in his haste to save Dorian from the assassins. He had left it on the ledge above the hole down into the Dwarven ruin.
"You will rest soon." She whispered hoarsely to the boy as she lay him down beside her. Her hands quickly knotted the rope into a harness around the corpse's tightly wrapped form. Tempest sighed loudly before she checked the ropes for a third time. She had done many hard things in the past, but even walking out of the Chantry to her certain death in Haven had been easy in comparison to what she was duty bound to do now. It was more than being the Inquisitor or The Herald of Andraste that made this her duty, it was because he was a child who never should have died the way he did. That all the adults in his short life had failed him and she couldn't fail him again.
His still form beside her prompted her to speak, that's what people did when they buried others they spoke about the life that person led, but she didn't even know his name. "You... you were brave, braver than most grown men. You wanted to stand up for those who couldn't stand up for themselves. You were likely Andrastian so as the Herald." Her voice broke. "Your Herald, you would have liked me to say something from the chant right? But to tell the truth I don't even know a verse of it. I do not even know if I am the Herald." She shook her head at her folly, but couldn't help but add, "And I promise tomorrow I will have the boys seal this mass above you so the animals won't get to your body, and... after I ask Harding your name I will come back with a chisel and put your name on this ledge. Don't tell anyone... you know surface dwarf and all." She led off lamely.
The sun was just beginning to set and the shadows had turned long somehow while she spoke making the hole a dark portal to the beyond. She couldn't bring herself to lower him into that void as he was. It was illogical, she knew he was dead and he couldn't see the inky shadows, to be frightened of it. Maybe it was her who was really afraid of this darkness she decided as she took off her insignia scarf and tied it around his head.
"The all seeing eye of the Inquisition will peer into the dark for you." She said breathlessly to him as she lowered The Boy into the pitch black below.
