A/N: Thank you to everyone who reads! This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it got so long that I split it into two. Last chapter will be next Thursday, and there is going to be an epilogue.
...-...
"I'm sorry."
Katrina scowled toward her shoes as Cullen leaned down to whisper his apology in her ear. "Would you stop that already?"
"I just…" He straightened up, looking somewhat helpless. Instantly, she felt guilty. "You're clearly upset."
Her irritation won out against her guilt. "I'm not upset."
"You…why are you lying?" Cullen asked in a huff, scratching at the back of his neck.
At that, Zevran sidled up beside them, and patted Cullen on the arm. "What's this, then?"
"We were playing chess."
Despite being annoyed with him, she couldn't help but smile as Cullen's accent punctuated his common. He always sounded so handsome. Perhaps that was just her bias, but she did adore that man.
"Oh ho, you beat her?" As he asked, Zevran moved back to the lamppost he'd been leaning against, settling to wait once more.
Even as Cullen hesitated, Katrina sighed. "Ten out of ten games."
"Nine out of ten," Cullen corrected. "You won the last one."
"No, you let me win," Katrina snapped, switching back to Avvar, arms crossed as she scanned the area, waiting for Briala or one of her people to show up for the meeting. There was still fifteen minutes until the scheduled time, but neither Briala nor Amelia had deemed it necessary to show up early. That was making Katrina on edge as it was, without Cullen taking pity on her.
"Is that why you're angry?"
"I'm not angry."
Truly, she'd thought he'd have a penchant for chess, but she hadn't expected him to get the hang of it halfway through their first game, and then to mop the floor with her. She'd been dumbstruck. The first win, she'd attributed to beginner's luck. By the fourth, she decided either she was genuinely terrible at this game or Cullen was just brilliant beyond reason.
"I have played a version of that game before. The pieces looked different, but the rules were very similar." He paused to consider it. "Actually, we probably just assigned the moves to the wrong pieces, now that I think of it."
Katrina stopped in her tracks and turned slowly to eye him. "You've played chess before?"
"Well, yes, possibly? Something like it. I used to play Mia."
Well. That made a bit more sense, didn't it? Not that she didn't think he was brilliant, but well…to pick up chess so quickly would be…
"It was one of mother's old trinkets. I was getting to that one," Rosalie murmured. She stood quietly beside Katrina, arms crossed across her chest and brow ever so slightly knit together. For her to show so much emotion was surprising indeed. Rosalie was as tense as Katrina was, gaze flicking about at every rat's squeak and shutter's bang. It felt like there were too many shadows around them.
Where the fuck was Amelia?
Had something happened to her? Had she been picked off by one of Briala's people? By one of the empress'? Were they even different networks?
How horribly ironic would it be if Katrina did all this nonsense to save her sister only to end up being the one who led her to her death?
No.
No, no, no.
That wouldn't happen. That wouldn't…
Turning to glare up at the two moons, Katrina wondered if the Lady of the Sky watched the Lowlands like she did the mountains. Could she see them where they were? Since her shaken faith in the Maker, Katrina had warmed up to the thought of Gods who interacted with their people, but these Gods were not as infallible as the Maker.
They were more like people.
It scared her a little, because she knew plenty of well-meaning people who failed to do whatever it was they sought.
"It will be alright."
Cole's voice was in her ear, though he wasn't anywhere she could see when she looked around.
Regardless, that he was there calmed her nerves, if only a little.
Even as Cullen looped his arms around her waist and offered that he hadn't known they would be playing the same game—one he apparently had learned years ago—the grand cathedral's bells tolled out midnight.
Their grim band grew silent as the bells echoed over the city.
One of Morrigan's hands was on the satchel with the books in it where it rested on her hip, the strap slung across her chest diagonally. To the people coming up, they would assume only one or two journals had been brought—at least that was what they were hoping. If they thought there were more journals to be retrieved, Briala and her people would be less likely to kill them if they were indeed still working for the empress.
Well, to kill them all.
Rosalie, Cullen, Morrigan, and Katrina looked around, waiting. Only Zevran seemed to be at ease. He was still leaning against a lamppost near the water, watching the waves lap at the sides of the boats and occasionally peering down the docks as though he expected to see something.
He was the one to notice Briala's approach first, right as the bells fell silent. Pushing away from the post, he sauntered up to the others and grinned at the darkness, his eyes gleaming a bit as they reflected the light around them. "It is good to see you are so punctual."
This time, when Briala showed herself, there were several others with her. Katrina couldn't help but wonder how Briala and the other elves had concealed their own eyes, for she could see no glimmer behind their masks. None of them were openly hostile, but they wore their weapons in plain sight. Katrina noticed Cullen's hands go to rest on the pommel of his blade, where it hung on his hip. Rosalie kept her arms crossed at first, but then lifted one at the elbow to play with her hair. She could have her bow free from her shoulder in a second, if needed.
Katrina had to fight not to just draw her own weapons. Of everyone here, she was likely the least familiar with fighting, despite her training with Cullen. For a fair fight, she'd probably need her weapons drawn before anyone else.
That wouldn't go over well, though, would it?
"I would not wish to keep such fiery and strong-willed allies waiting, lest you think me insincere." Briala stopped a few feet short, so that she was close enough to talk comfortably with them. As she did, she fell into a fluid curtsey. Those behind her followed suit.
As Zevran returned the formality with a flourished, Antivan bow, Katrina dipped into an awkward curtsey—she'd always been terrible at them—and Cullen, Rosalie, and Morrigan thumped their right fists over their hearts in a salute.
Briala seemed most pleased by the display. Well, in the dark, it was harder to read what little of her face could be seen beneath her mask, but her lips did turn up at the corners.
"Now, then. Since we are all here, it is clear that we are at least willing to speak about the return of those journals you've been wielding, yes?"
Before anyone else could speak, Cole's voice rang out, loud and clear. "They didn't bring them. Careful, careful. Keep that smile in place. Don't let them see how thin the rope is. One misstep and we'll all be hung. Dangling like so many before us. No. No, no. We deserve better. We will have better."
Briala and her people startled, scanning the area with an almost frantic touch. A few of them drew their weapons as Cole dropped down from where he'd been waiting on top of the lamppost. He wandered toward them, stopping when he stood beside Katrina and Cullen.
"You want to make things right, even if you have to do things wrong to get there," Cole offered, nodding toward Briala respectfully. Katrina could have sworn he was speaking Avvar, though his words seemed to be just as clear to Briala as they were to her, and to Cullen. Perhaps the Gods didn't need to speak any one language to be understood. "It's how things work, and you can change it, but you have to have the power to change it first." He lowered his eyes. "Everything worth having seems to be bought with blood. But maybe there needn't be too much, if knees can be bent with words."
"You ally yourself with demons," Briala whispered, though she did hold a hand out to stay her people from attacking.
"Not a demon," Cole corrected, swaying a little as he picked at one of his gloves with his other hand. "I help."
Katrina reached out carefully and tapped Cole on the shoulder. As she did so, it occurred to her that she was pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever touched the God before. He didn't seem to mind. Instead, he turned an owlish gaze toward her. "Her desires are honest. The empress used her and broke her down, made her think scraps were full meals, but no more. She will see her people done justice. It will take time, but she will see it through."
The elves who had approached them didn't seem to know what to make of Cole, though Briala was the first to relax. She hesitated, appraising the young boy, before finally laughing. "I see why you wanted this meeting. A mask is useless against a mind-reader."
"Yes," Cole agreed. "You wear yours well, though."
Briala didn't seem to mind as much when he spoke this time. After another pause, she motioned toward him and then the rest of them. "Forgive me, but to whom do I negotiate with? I'd assumed it would be the lady who set so much of this in motion." Her hand waved more specifically toward Katrina. "Now, I find myself unsure. Perhaps you play the Game better than I thought."
Before they could respond, another elf darted up to her and whispered something in her ear. Her ear twitched, and a frown graced her features for just a second. "I see."
"We…what is it?" Katrina furrowed her brow, forgetting to explain that they were operating under more of a voting system than any one of them being completely in charge.
Briala cocked her head. "…Dealing with you lot has truly been an experience. Never a dull moment." Even as Katrina and Cullen dared a confused glance toward one another, she dismissed whatever she'd just been told. "So then. I do hate to rush such a cordial event, but either we need to move from the docks, or simply conclude our affairs. The wicked never sleep, and Val Royeaux is always awake. About the journals."
At that, Morrigan stepped forward, arms crossed, stance a bit too casual. "We wish for Orlais to cease their attacks on our people. If we give you these journals, can you assure that the Avvar are not used to further Orlesian politics any further?"
Rather than answer right away, Briala seemed to consider how to address Morrigan instead. "I am afraid I know little of you, dear lady. You are?"
"Who I am is of no consequence to you," Morrigan replied, looking down her nose slightly at the elf. With her head held high, she shifted her weight, arms still crossed. "Can you assure our people's safety?"
"Now? Honestly, no." Briala said simply, with a shrug. "Our goals are to save our people, and we are already spread thin. We do not have the resources to fight two wars. However," she paced slowly to the side, "I can promise you that we have no interest in you. If we can gain enough power, we can make those exploiting the Avvar will fall from theirs, and their ability to reach so far into the mountains will crumble. It may take some time, but if you allow us that, we will build something better, something that will not threaten your way of life as ours flourishes."
At that, Zevran switched to Antivan, whispering to Katrina, "That is likely as good a deal as you will get. Further, it will remove you from these politics."
While Katrina agreed with it for the most part, she held her hand up before Morrigan could speak, switching back to common. "What about the people who want to attack the Avvar because they believe they're more hostile than they are?"
"Ah, you mean Celene's attempt to paint Gaspard as the tyrant that he is?" Briala quirked an eyebrow. "I can take care of that. A few letters in the right places, and I will be able to take down one of the empress' strongest supporters as the one who set you up to be assassinated by hired hands dressed as Avvar. It will actually help our cause if people believe you to still be dead."
At that, Morrigan's brow knit together. "But t'was it not the empress herself who did the deed?"
One of the elves behind Briala scoffed, finally re-sheathing his dagger and crossing his arms. "You think anything set up against the empress herself would not be dismissed or squelched in a breath?"
Morrigan let out a sharp humph at that response, though she didn't argue. Zevran was the one to speak up. "Should the empress lose a close ally to something she was blaming on an enemy, it would hurt her far more than any attempt to say that she had done it herself. It would make it look like she does not know her people as well as she claims. It would lead to mistrust and, among her remaining allies, wonders as to how well they can actually be protected from scandal."
Briala nodded. "Precisely."
"So a war without blades," Cullen murmured, his words slow, but clear. "Like chess. Steal her pieces until she cannot defend herself."
"Exactly," Briala nodded. "Give us the journals, and we will take away her ability to reach your people. It may be by inches, but I promise it will happen. The world will be better with Celene brought to heel, and Gaspard dealt with."
Cole nodded. "I like your plan, though I wouldn't use so many decoys."
"Why not?" Briala asked, lips dipping into a frown.
"So many will be hurt," Cole whispered.
With a sharp breath, Briala hesitated before finally nodding. "We know what we face, and we know what we must sacrifice for a better future. I will not force anyone to do what they cannot."
Cole didn't reply.
Taking in a breath, Briala looked back at the rest of them. "Will you give us the journals?"
They glanced at one another. Katrina hesitated before switching to Avvar, "I think we should do it. The results won't be immediate, but they'll be worth it."
Cullen frowned and then looked to Morrigan. Katrina was surprised that Morrigan seemed to hold his gaze a second longer, waiting until he gave her a shallow nod to step up to Briala. She gripped the satchel's strap. "We accept your terms."
Briala's smile was radiant, even in the shadows cast from the lamppost under the light of the two moons. "Now then, I would love to know where you've hidden those books. We have been going mad trying to find them since we learned of your arrival. However, I fear that will have to wait, as we really must reconvene elsewhere. Very few of those here in power favor the idea of sharing with my people."
"Well, that is unnecessary. We can—"
Even as Morrigan moved to lift the strap, an arrow thudded into her shoulder with enough force that she spun into the ground.
…-…
Cullen's sword was in hand in a breath as he gripped Katrina around the waist and tugged her behind a few crates stacked along the wharf. Another arrow thudded into one of Briala's elves, though even as it struck home, Rosalie shot down the shooter. As she fired and sent another masked man tumbling from a rooftop, Zevran and Briala helped Morrigan back to her feet and behind another group of crates.
As Rosalie backed up, two of the elves helped with her retreat, all three of them firing at their assailants before taking cover. Rosalie joined Cullen and Katrina.
"Where's Cole?" Katrina asked, almost frantic.
Even as Cullen dared to peer around to look for the God, he saw another figure fall off the rooftop. Cole crouched where their attacker had been before dropping down and disappearing into the shadows. Another arrow thudded into the crate beside him, and Cullen ducked back. "He's fine."
"Do you think the empress found out after all?" Rosalie asked, another arrow nocked as she peered around the corner of the crate and then fired quickly. Cullen didn't have to check to know that it hit its mark.
"Even if they are her people, I bet they won't be wearing her colors or masks," Katrina spat, scowl in place. She jerked her hair back into a messy bun, ready to fight. He would have rather she just sat this one out—she wasn't skilled enough to really hold her own yet, though he wasn't about to point that out to her.
Cullen scowled, considering that his love's words seemed to be true enough. Lowlanders didn't seem able to do anything under their true colors. From the ones who had pretended to be Avvar, to the ones who had kidnapped Katrina, to the ones who had followed them, to Briala pretending to still work for the empress.
Even Katrina and their lot had hidden within the workings of the Lowlands' system.
Cullen frowned as he realized that by donning those masks and claiming to be Ferelden, he'd done little better than the Lowlanders. It left a pit in his stomach. One that would have to be dealt with later.
For now, it had grown quiet.
Cullen peered across at where Briala and Morrigan were with Zevran. From the looks of it, the arrow had gone in rather high, just below her collarbone. That wouldn't have hit anything vital, at least. As soon as they'd worked the arrow out, Morrigan cauterized the wound with fire. He was somewhat impressed that she managed to do so without any screaming.
Even so, she looked ready to pass out.
Before Cullen could call out to them, the quiet was abruptly broken by the sounds of footsteps charging forward. Cullen waited until he heard feet hitting the crate behind them before he swung his sword up and into the shoulder of a fighter just coming over, intending to attack from above.
Cullen shoved the man past them and used his momentum to toss him into the waters beyond. Even as he heard the splash, Briala was yelling for them to move.
Their position was overrun with wat least two dozen humans, from the looks of it, brandishing swords, daggers, and mauls, all well made. Cullen impaled another woman who charged forward and held his ground while Rosalie and Katrina moved behind him to regroup with the others. A few arrows in the nearest enemies bought him time to fallback as well.
Even as he readied to hold his ground, fire began to quite literally rain down from the sky in large, molten balls, bursting upon impact with whatever they hit, ground or people. Their attackers retreated at least temporarily, one of them screaming something about a 'malificar'.
As Cullen cut down a man who chose to keep moving forward to get out of reach of the flames rather than run back to his allies, Briala gripped his arm. "We have to get out of here. They outnumber us, and I've a feeling there will be more of them."
"How many more?"
"Enough to whittle our forces down to nothing and leave us all bobbing, nameless in the sea."
Frowning, Cullen lifted his sword to block an attack, only for a dagger to thwack into the man's throat. The man dropped his sword and staggered to the side before slumping down. Katrina angled past him to retrieve her dagger, looking more than a little terrified. He couldn't help but wonder where she'd been aiming when she threw that, and how close it'd come to hitting the wrong target.
More things to worry about later.
Morrigan's fire was dying down, and their attackers were advancing again. Worse still, they could hear shouts in the distance, true to Briala's warning.
"Even if they do not have direct allies, the city guard will not be lenient to any fighting, and the people we fight will likely claim asylum under a noble's name, leaving us the villains—villains who have sided with an apostate," Briala insisted. "I know where we can go."
Cullen couldn't follow everything she'd said, but he'd understood enough of it. "Where?"
"There are safe places throughout the city. We must shake these brutes and then we can go. Come."
Despite wondering just how much he could depend upon the Lowlanders, Cullen reminded himself that Cole had found the elf trustworthy and nodded. He paused to kick another attacker into the water, and then started running after the others. The elves knew the streets far better than the rest of them, and the way they wove through side alleys and the like would have been mesmerizing, had Cullen not been needing to keep up. He was somewhat surprised to find that Katrina was almost as agile in this cluttered setting. As lost as she got in the woods, she could tell the difference between the buildings here as clearly as Cullen could navigate the woods.
She and Zevran bound off the walls as they made sharp turns, sometimes running a few feet up the wall and then flipping forward to keep from running into anyone else, or avoid thudding into crates and the like.
Morrigan was having the most trouble retreating. She'd managed to keep hold of the journals, as though she fully expected the whole lot of them to abandon her, should she part with them too soon.
Rosalie and Cullen hung back, covering her to make sure that she wasn't overwhelmed. Once, when four of their assailants caught up and the fighting threatened to keep them trapped in place long enough for others to catch up as well, they had abruptly found Zevran back with them.
The way he moved as he cut down those who stood against him was…horrifyingly enthralling. As the bodies had fallen, he'd shooed them forward, a grin settling on his features when he met Rosalie's gaze. "Do not fret, my dear. Death is an art I mastered long ago. I will not let them take you."
And then they were running again.
As the four of them turned another corner, they skidded to a stop as it became apparent why Katrina had not come back for them as well. A bear of a woman cut down one of the elves they'd been following. A few other corpses lay around them—mostly slight and elven from the looks of it—and Katrina was standing alone, blood running down one of her arms already.
Cullen saw red for an instant before he regained control of himself. Already, he was moving down the alley, and he let his momentum keep up as he barreled toward Katrina's assailant. He yelled for Katrina to move, and she dodged toward the wall. The woman tried to swing into him, but he dropped into a roll, letting the maul sweep just above him. As the woman recovered—quicker than he would have liked—he brought his sword up, swinging it hard into her side.
She was already sporting a few minor injuries, but he was surprised at how well her armor held up against his attack.
Even as she set about pummeling him with her maul, he darted out of her reach. As she focused on Cullen, Briala dropped down from the roof, landing directly behind their attacker. She lithely darted forward and wrenched the woman's helm off. Before their enemy could understand what was happening, an arrow was in her forehead.
Cullen dodged away from the falling body and moved back to Katrina, stopping beside her. He put his free hand against her cheek, gaze sweeping over her as he checked for any injuries. There was a small cut along her arm, but it didn't look like she'd been hit by the maul yet.
Thank the Lady for small mercies.
Speaking of Gods, where was Cole? He'd been dealing with the archers and…
Fear curled in Cullen's gut. Had he been over-confident in the boy's abilities? After all, even Gods could fall.
When he looked around them at the massacre, he saw that his earlier assessment had been wrong. Most of the bodies were human, all bearing variations of what he assumed was the same mask. If he'd been better versed in Orlesian politics, he could have said for certain. Only two of the fallen were the elves they'd been working with.
As he looked up, he saw a few of them peering down from the rooftops, having scaled up the walls.
"It will be easier from here to travel above. You Avvar have good footing, yes?" Briala motioned upward. "Come, you can climb the crates over here and—"
One of the elves cried out, falling from the roof with an arrow in her throat. A dozen figures crowded near the far end of the alley, even as the elves on the roofs dropped back into it, angling under the awnings to try to get out of line of sight of their enemies' archers.
The way back was blocked with their pursuers as they finally caught up.
Even as Cullen cursed, Katrina rolled her eyes and kicked in a window next to them. "Come on, then."
Their group split up, going into the buildings on either side of the alley just as the archers drew close enough to fire at them. As shouting echoed down the alley, Cullen followed Katrina inside.
It was a maze.
If he was remembering what she'd told him about the city correctly, then this was some sort of storehouse for goods brought in from the ships. It put his people's stocks chamber to shame, though, to be honest, he couldn't see that any one hold would ever need this much of anything.
Despite their twists and turns, they hadn't gotten very far from the waterfront, and as they lost themselves in the maze of boxes and crates, Katrina hung back. "We should go back to the docks."
"To be slaughtered?" Briala asked, incredulous.
Even as Katrina hesitated, unsure, Cullen narrowed his eyes, realizing why his dear Lowlander was likely hesitant to leave. "Amelia wanted us by the docks. She wouldn't have wanted that if she didn't have a good reason."
"Perhaps she intended to make it easy for the empress' people to find you?" Briala whispered.
Cullen was surprised he didn't have to hold Katrina back after hearing such implications that her sister might betray them. However, it did make him wonder where Amelia had gotten off to. It seemed odd that she would be missing—she was so overprotective of Katrina.
Or had that been an act?
Even as Cullen frowned at the notion, Briala motioned for them to follow her. "Come. We can worry about such things when we are safely away from here."
"No." Katrina held her ground. Then, she seemed to relent to some inner debate, turning to Morrigan rather than an argument. "Give her the journals so she can get out of here." When Morrigan gave her a bewildered look, Katrina scowled—she looked exhausted. "This picture is so much bigger than any one of us. She can take them and go. We'll lead off the others and figure something out. They won't be able to rush us in here, anyway. We can find a corner and pick them off."
"And if we die?" Morrigan snapped.
"If we die then… it will be worse if Briala dies here with us, when she has the chance to make things right for more people than we could ever hope to bring justice to. This goes so much further than Amelia, or myself, or your clan." Morrigan didn't move, hand gripping the satchel's strap tightly. "This is bigger than all of us. Please."
"Were you a mage, I'd say that damned God possessed you, what with the way you echo his insistences."
As Cullen wondered when Cole had even gone on about justice, Morrigan drew the satchel over her shoulder and shoved it toward Briala. "Take these and go. They are all in there save a few that prove nobles have manipulated our people. We will keep those."
Briala stared at them, her eyes wide enough to be noted even behind her mask. She flipped the bag open to peer inside and then let out a bark of a laugh that she quickly quelled. "Maker, it is no wonder we could not find them." Nodding to each of them, she took a few steps away. "Thank you. The elves of Orlais thank you. This empire will be re-forged, just you watch."
And with that, she was gone.
The quiet was short-lived. They could hear the shouts of their pursuers growing closer, weaving their way through the maze.
Cullen glanced around, realizing that Rosalie and Zevran had fled into the opposite storehouse. Now, he was left with Katrina and Morrigan, both of whom were injured—even if Katrina's was just a scratch. He weighed his sword in his hand, glancing around at their surroundings for an upper hand. He nearly laughed despite himself when he realized Katrina was scaling the crates in a small crook that blocked her from view in most directions. She pointed toward another nook near him and Morrigan. "See. The Lowlands aren't so different from the mountains. We just happen to assemble our cliffs."
There were two enemies who had had the same idea to climb up for a better vantage who noticed them and called out a warning to their allies as the trio pulled themselves up top. Morrigan set them alight with a word, smirking as their bodies fell from the higher ground.
Katrina glared at her. "Would you be careful with where you throw your fire? You'll set the whole building ablaze. Come on. We should head back to the docks."
"What of Rosalie?" Cullen paused, looking back toward the alley they'd come from. Or he tried to. Every direction seemed to stretch off with nothing but rows and rows of boxes. He couldn't say for sure which way they'd come in.
"She's with Zevran. He'll head back for the docks, too," Katrina nodded, though Cullen wasn't sure if it was more for herself. She seemed a little pale, like she was more worried than she was letting on.
Before he could ask if she was alright—or offer to take a better look at her wound and wrap it if need be—she took off running, jumping across the crates and heading over the maze toward one of the walls that seemed impossibly far away. Cullen wondered how she could tell what direction to head.
They'd almost made it to the opening when Katrina stumbled as she ran, plummeting to the ground and landing against a lower stack of crates with a loud crack.
Morrigan jumped past before slowing as Cullen dropped down to where she'd fallen.
"Katrina?" he said softly, kneeling beside her. She pushed herself to her feet, reaching up and quickly pulling herself back up the boxes.
"It's nothing. I just slipped."
There was a tremor in her voice.
Cullen climbed up after her, looking her over with more care. She was definitely paler than she should have been.
An arrow thudded into the crate beside Morrigan, narrowly missing her foot. She cast another fireball, smirking at the responding scream, before starting toward the exit again. Katrina's took a step forward as though to run, but her footing seemed unsound.
With a curse, Cullen glanced back to see another Lowlander climbing up to get a clear shot at them.
They didn't have time. Reaching out, he easily caught her around the waist and slung her over his shoulder. He was surprised—and worried—when she didn't protest the action.
Cullen darted over the last few crates, with Morrigan covering them with her magic, until they finally reached the wall. It seemed like that short space took infinitely longer than the rest of their time in the Lowlands all together.
Something felt wrong.
Everything felt wrong.
Korth's teeth, how could he fix this?
As soon as they made it out of the building, they were surrounded.
The docks rose from the waters not two blocks down the wharf from them, and they were surrounded.
With a curse, Cullen set Katrina down near the wall and readied his blade. From the corner of his eye, he saw her draw her own blades. Her grip looked weak.
Even as the first man charged them, a knife sunk into his neck, and he fell short.
Amelia charged in from the right, a thin blade similar to the sort of thing a chevalier might use in hand as she caught one of their attackers off guard. However, her form was poor—about as poor as Katrina's. She hadn't thrown the dagger.
As though to answer just who had come to their aid, a figure dropped down from a few crates stacked outside the storehouse, landing between two other enemies. Even as she landed, they were falling to the ground, blood spraying from their necks. The woman didn't wait for anyone to realize what was happening, instead lunging forward into the dim light from a nearby lamppost, the flickering flame illuminating her sepia skin and dark hair, held back with a bright blue bandana.
Cullen didn't have much time to keep an eye on her, however. As soon as the bodies started dropping, everything fell to chaos. He stayed close to Katrina, fending off the attackers as they came, with Morrigan at his side, tossing fire about with little regard to what it hit.
Their mysterious savior called out once in indignation as a ball of fire flew just past her face, singing a few stray hairs. Unlike Cullen, Morrigan, and even Amelia, their savior was anything but stationary. One minute she'd be taking down a towering brute to their left, the next, she'd be pulling a dagger out of a lithe form lying still off to their right.
As more of their attackers closed in on them, the woman let out a curse. "Sweet thing! Get your sister, and let's go!"
"Bel, no. We can't. We're missing people," Amelia argued, pausing to look at Cullen. "Or did Rosalie and Zevran…"
"I don't know what happened to them," Cullen admitted, looking back toward the encroaching enemies. "They went toward that other building when we were cornered." He pointed with his sword.
"Which wouldn't have happened if you'd stayed at the docks," Amelia huffed.
"We were attacked at the docks!" Cullen snapped.
"Enough of that. Worry your pretty heads about blame after we're out of the noose's reach, hmm?" their savior asked, flipping over another attacker and then snapping his neck with her hands. As he fell, she retrieved her daggers from two other corpses. "Four against a small army aren't the odds I like."
"I'd wager you are a small army," Morrigan muttered, setting another man on fire.
With a wink, she grinned. "Well, I am doing most of the work right now. Something I'm not particularly fond of, when it's not supposed to be my neck on the line," she added, turning a critical glare toward Amelia.
She parried a thrust and managed to impale another attacker. "You should have brought the rest of the crew with us!"
"You said there'd be a couple elves, not this!"
"Isabela! We can't leave them!"
"We can't stay either," Isabela argued. The golden jewelry adorning her neck and wrists glinted in the light.
"Take Katrina and get out of here. She's not as good a fighter and—" Cullen's voice cut off as he looked back at her, fully expecting a fiery objection that she could hold her own. Instead, he saw Morrigan kneeling beside where she lay, sprawled out and motionless on the ground. Paling, he darted back to her. In his determination, he hadn't even noticed she wasn't fending off fools alongside of him.
How…?
He'd made sure not to let anyone past.
She was still breathing, but it was labored. Rising back to his feet, he motioned toward Amelia. "Go. Take her. I'll buy you time."
Amelia hesitated and then held her ground. "Morrigan, can you carry her?"
Though the mage seemed ready to argue, Amelia motioned with her head. "I'll stay here and—"
A sword came swinging through the air, and Cullen barely managed to sprint forward fast enough to block it. In a swift motion, he'd disarmed the woman bearing down on Amelia, and gutted her. As she fell, he paused, wrenching her shield from her arm and taking it for himself. He bashed another attacker in the face, breaking their nose, and then slammed the edge of the shield into a third man's neck.
When he pulled it free, he paused to adjust the straps and then brought it up with barely enough time to block an arrow.
Great.
More archers.
Cullen picked up another of the swords and chucked it at the nearest one, not bothering to wait to see it hit its mark before blocking another ground attack. When he'd dispatched that fighter, he beheaded a rogue sneaking up on Isabela.
She turned to see the body falling and grinned. "Oh, I like you."
Cullen and Isabela turned to face the onset of attackers, only to find that the numbers they'd been expecting were already nearly nonexistent.
The last of them fell to the ground, and Zevran straightened out of an attack stance, spinning his daggers and then sheathing them, grinning at them. "I see you decided to play without us."
Rosalie dropped down from the roof. Her quiver was missing, but she'd taken one of their enemies' to replace it. Even so, she only had two arrows left.
Cullen darted forward, gripping Rosalie in a tight hug. "Thank the Lady you're safe."
"And you." She patted his back before glancing around. "Where's Katrina?"
At that miserable reminder, Cullen whirled back toward where he'd left Katrina, hurrying over and dropping to his knees beside her as Morrigan took advantage of the lull in the fighting to examine her.
"What happened?"
"Poison," Amelia whispered.
At the utterance, Cullen's gaze honed in on Katrina's cut. It hadn't been that deep. Perhaps that's why it had taken as long as it had to affect her. As he inspected the injury, his heart felt hollow. Discolored lines followed her veins, spreading away from the injury.
"No," Cullen whispered, looking up at Morrigan. "Can you help?"
"I'm no healer," she replied, for once seeming distraught rather than annoyed. "I know some herbal remedies, but I haven't the reagents…"
Shouts sounded in the distance.
Cullen felt his stomach churn. "More of them?"
"Dammit…" Isabela paused, hopping up onto the roof as though it had been a mere skip away and darting out of sight. She returned a few seconds later. "It's the blighted guard. We have to go."
Without further prompt, Cullen looped his arms under Katrina, and followed numbly after the rest of them. They moved quick enough that the sounds of alarm from finding the remnants of their blood bath never quite caught up, though they did echo after them, the threat of being caught pushing their group to move faster than they should have been able to. Abruptly, Isabela—who had taken lead—turned down one of the docks, running swiftly across the wooden planks that teetered over the inky black water.
Cullen barely even realized he'd followed until he was setting Katrina down on a hammock. Amelia was beside him, barking orders to someone as unfamiliar sounds flooded his ears.
His world rocked.
He felt sick.
Was it the movement of his world—of the damned boat—or the fact that Katrina looked like she was about to slip out of it with any breath?
"Please, love, don't leave me… Please…"