They had been discovered. He had seen one of them the day before in the city centre. This evening two others had dined at the tavern across the street to their inn. They had not shown any sign that they knew, but he could not be fooled so easily.
Fenris had told Ariana to pack their belongings while he made some arrangements down town. It was a shame that they had to leave; the Free Marches had proven to be more welcoming than he had ever imagined, and they had almost begun feeling safe within the walls of Tantervale. At least he could see some improvement since they left the Tevinter Imperium. Maybe, if they ran far enough, hid their tracks well enough, they would be able to one day settle down. Be free at last.
Fenris arrived at their room, finding Ariana sitting on the bed, eyes nervously glancing about, fingers twiddling, with two stuffed sacks at her feet. Relief washed over her as she spotted him. Fenris nodded to her it was time. She obeyed and picked up her half of the load as he took his. But then she moved no further.
"What if it's too late?" she asked, those innocent eyes full of contained fear.
"It's not," he said simply, giving her a reassuring kiss. She tried to smile. "Let's go."
They went out the back door, hidden underneath fully covering cloaks, and stood their pace as they walked down the streets to the city gates where the horses where waiting. Fenris's gaze wandered the empty streets, the hidden rooftops, the dark windows, after any signs of pursuit. When he found none he still could not let the feeling of walking into a trap fade away.
They stopped abruptly as they moved around a corner to discover the gates were surrounded by a small army of Tevinter imperials. Their path was blocked.
"What do we do?" asked Ariana.
"The gates are still open. We break through and run." He did not like the idea; it was too risky. But this was the only way out, and that was where they were headed.
"There must be another way. Maybe we should wait till dawn."
"No. They already know we are here. And, from the looks of it, have been tipped off we're leaving. We must." Ariana looked deep into his eyes, filling him with her love, and gently squeezed his hand.
"Then we run." She walked a step forward, but was stopped by his hand. She turned to face him.
"Do you trust me?" With a quizzical look she hesitantly nodded. "If I tell you to flee, you will do so." Her stare was blank. "If I tell you to leave me, you will." His voice was firm. She looked down, trying to hide her trepidation. "Do I have your word?" She raised her eyes.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Thank you." He kissed her again. "It is time."
They walked with lowered heads, slowly, towards the exit. Fenris's giant sword was clearly visible. Still, he hoped they would not notice it until it was too late. There were seven of them, all trained in battle and driven by a promise of a hefty reward. He would not be able to take them all in close combat, not alone. He would have to run for it as soon as he got the opportunity.
"Show yourself, or face the consequences," called one of them. They stopped and stayed still. "Did you hear me? Reveal your identity or die!" The mercenary angrily walked over to them, sword drawn. With it, he removed Ariana's hood. As shock struck him Fenris punched through his head and crushed its insides. The man gasped as he slumped to the ground, dead.
Before the others had time to react, Fenris jumped forward and beheaded the one nearest.
"Run!" he yelled at Ariana before engaging the five remaining warriors. He did not stop to see if she did. He lashed out with his sword in wide arcs, clashing against shields and expensive armour. But the men soon flanked him, and before he knew it they were all around him. He very nearly deflected their deadly weapons. Knowing his luck would not last, he jumped high into the air and landed a blow right between one of the mercenary's eyes, splitting his head. Without thinking he stepped sideways and collapsed a heart with his hand.
Three to go. He was sweating and panting heavily, and somewhere in his chest was a painful throbbing; he must have been hit after all.
He sheathed his sword and ran. Perhaps he was imagining things, but he could have sworn he had heard rushing footsteps on the stone ground.
Ariana was nowhere to be seen, though he could not decide whether this was a good thing or not. The mercenaries breathing down his neck, he fled through the gates, not thinking about the difficulty to breathe. He was just outside, hearing the steps of his followers slow, when he was hit flat in the back by an invisible force and knocked to the ground. Still trying to get his breath back he rolled over to get up. He suppressed his terror as he realized a mage was nearby.
Before he could find the caster, however, he was trapped in a magic field and could not move. Struggling without hope he heard her scream.
"Fenris!" Galloping hooves raced closer to him. He wanted to yell at her to turn around, to fulfil her promise, but his mouth was moulded in rock. All he could think of was the immediate threat of the mage.
The clattering silenced and he was thrown out of his prison.
"Go! Now!" he cried at her. But it was too late. Ariana gasped and her eyes flashed open, rolling about madly in their sockets. The veins in them burst and spilt blood out onto her cheeks. Her paralysed body trembled as it was being cut open from the inside.
Fenris frantically searched the gates for the blood mage, and when he spotted her, a small thing with eyes glowing red, he roared and charged at her. He evaded her traps, resisted her spells, and when the men came after him again he merely ran past them, striking one of them in the process. The mage was not smiling when he shoved his sword through her heart.
He did not waste any more time, but returned hastily to Ariana. Luckily, the remaining two mercenaries seemed a lot less prone to go after him now that they had realized that this elf perhaps was not worth the trouble after all.
Ariana lay still on the ground when he reached her. But he did not stop to check on her. He knew she was alive, knew she would live if only they could get as far from these men as was possible.
He put her in the saddle before him, giving the hunters one last, menacing look, before kicking the horse and riding off.
He rode until the horse collapsed on the road in the middle of nothingness. Fenris pulled Ariana aside, into hiding within the nearby forest. Her breathing alternated between weak coughs and tiny puffs, and her body's shaking had been reduced significantly since they left off. This did not comfort him, however.
"Ariana? Listen to me," he said to her, holding her head firmly between his hands. "Look at me." Her bleeding eyes shifted to his for a second, then returned to gazing blindly at the crowns above.
Fenris reached for the sack she had taken with her; the other had been lost sometime during the battle. Nothing was in it but ragged clothes and a few cans of food. A bellow escaped his throat and he threw the bag aside.
"Ariana!" he yelled. His fingernails bore into her freckled skin. "You have to keep fighting. You can survive this!"
But she did not hear his urgings. Instead, he could feel her pulse weakening, her temperature sinking.
"You can't leave me!" he begged, desperate. He pulled her close, cradling her limp body, forcing his strength and warmth into her. Suddenly, her eyes focused on his.
"Fenris," she whispered, "Love." Then she was still.
For a long while he was silent. He merely stared into her raven eyes, recognizing their emptiness inside. As her body grew stiff and cold he felt his pain drain. He did not shed any tears, did not feel the tightening throat, did not search for an understanding for all this.
Closing her eyes before kissing their lids, he got up and dug a hole in the ground using his sword and, when that was not enough, his hands. The grave was not deep, but it would have to do. He gently lay her at the bottom, stroking her cheek one last time. It was difficult to leave her there when he had to climb back up.
He looked down at her solemnly.
"Sleep well, my love," he trembled, his voice cracking at the last word. Tears began falling from his eyes, and his mouth made pathetic, yelping sounds. Shattered glass erupted in his chest and the pain fuelled him to numbly fill up her grave, not noticing the pebbles and stones rasping his skin.
When it was done he stood up straight, drawing in a full breath of the cold morning air. He knew then, that he would never feel for another again. Never again would he allow himself to become so dependant, so vulnerable.
He locked away his heart, and embraced the chill surrounding him. He was a weapon again, and he had a target.
His chin was held high as he stepped out of the forest, his face set in stone.