May the Maker Watch Over You

Chapter 8

A/N: I want to thank everyone that has favorite, followed or reviewed this story. It means so much that you are enjoying this story as much as I am writing it! I hope you continue to enjoy it as the story progresses. I also wanted to inform all of you that updates to this story may slow down. I am currently in the process of moving states and moving jobs. This is a big transition time in my life and will have little time on a computer. The story will continue though!

Disclaimer: The characters and world of Thedas does not belong to me. They belong to Bioware.

"Dammit, how many damn giants can you have," Evelyn shouted, rolling away from the giant's massive swipe. She was exhausted, her shield arm crippled from another giant swung his arm against her shield, causing her to fly back. Blackwall was beside her, slashing at the monster's legs, while Cullen and Alistair were occupied with Red Templars. Cole was no where in sight, and had been missing since the first giant encounter. She could hear Ser Desjardins in the distance yelling at his men. "Shoot the eye! Shoot the eye!"

This was crazy. She knew it. Why hadn't she brought a fleet? Why did she let half of her men go to defend the village? She spat at the ground, grimacing at the blood that lay in the white snow. How much more could she take before she fell into the abyss? How much more could her men take?

Flipping the sword in her hand, she eyed the creature carefully. It was weakening, every step becoming shaky. The animal's roar was higher pitched, wailing in pain. The right leg dragged behind the giant, moving towards her. They needed to make the creature fall, where it would be easier to pierce the spinal cord, ending its pain.

"Blackwall, to the left," she ordered, swinging her sword to glimmer in the light. She would be a decoy, distracting the giant as the warden weakened it.

The corrupted monster screamed, arms swinging left and right, feeling around its face. Evelyn saw the arrow, piercing the eye. Someone had finally hit the damn eye. It was time to move. She lunged forward, holding her blade in both hands, pierced the flesh of the left leg, blood pouring out of the wound. Twisting, the blade, it continued to deepen into the flesh. The brunette took a step back, stumbling onto the ground, her blade dropping from her hands.

"Inquisitor!"

The giant was falling backwards towards her. The Inquisitor tried to roll away but the giant was bigger, and falling fast. She closed her eyes, knowing she should mutter a prayer, but not knowing what to say. Thanks for the life she had, or perhaps a prayer for those she would leave behind? Didn't she still have something she had to do?

A chill went down her spine, cold like the wintertime breeze on top the Frostback Mountains, a thunderous sound of something falling to the ground. Her impending doom was upon her, but nothing happened. Evelyn felt no pain, heard no sound. Did time slow around her? Is this how the last moments of life were-slow and stretching, like the chewy sweet candy pastry chefs made in their tiny businesses in Ostwick. She squinted, startled to see white clouds of snow around her. Was this the fade?

Heavy breathing next to her made her rethink her hypothesis, turning to her left she saw the giant dead, blood seeping into the white snow. How did she survive? Evelyn recalled the last few moments, the sight of the monster falling and the chill that went down her spine. It resembled magic. Shifting her head to the right, she saw an elven woman beside her, laying in the snow. Her hair was dark like the night, braided behind her back neatly. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale. Her clothing was thin, fit for hot summers or the dessert. The thought crossed Evelyn's mind. Could this really be whom she thought?

The Inquisitor shook her head in disbelief. "Ash...Are you Warden-Commander Surana?"

The mage opened her eyes, golden eyes lowered in thought, pushing herself into a sitting position. "I am. Who are you?"

"Lady Trevelyan," Blackwall yelled, moving towards them. The cloud of snow had dissipated, the small crowd becoming visible. He kneeled next to her, grasping her by the shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

Evelyn looked around, still in shock from the last few minutes. Dorian was running towards them, his face in disbelief. Alistair had looked up from his work looting the templar bodies, his eyes resting on the elf next to her. Cullen was speaking to his men, his words hushed.

"No," she finally answered, smiling at the warden. "No, I'm fine. Just a few scratches."

Blackwall exhaled, muttering under his breath.

Dorian knelled next to her, assessing her injuries, clicking his tongue in aggravation. "I know this is only going to go on deaf ears, but please don't do that again. I'm no Spirit Healer and can't continue to waste my precious mana on your reckless behavior."

The noblewoman smiled. "But I thought that was apart of my job description, doing miraculous things," she stated, looking back at the elven woman. "I am Evelyn Trevelyan, and I am with the Inquisition. We came to find you, Lady Surana."

"I see," Ashiva murmured thoughtfully, looking off to the ruined walls. She struggled to stand, dusting the snow from her velveteen tunic. "Well, here I am. I was able to escape from my prison thanks to your distraction. I was trying to find the demon that had me captive here when I found you."

"You mean Ismael," Alistair offered, stepping up to pull Ashiva in an embrace. "It's good to have you back, Commander."

Evelyn pulled the healing potion from her pouch. Drinking the vial, she gagged at the medicinal taste. The tingling sensation continued through her body. The painful throbbing in her arm was not dulling. "You know where this demon might be? This place is pretty massive."

"The place is overrun by red templars," the Warden-Commander informed. "But from what I gathered he is at the top of the keep. He already knows you're here."

"Ashiva?"

Ashiva looked past the small group in front of her, startled by the man in the lion armor and fur. She stumbled towards him, her golden eyes glowing. "Cullen? What are you-"

"Thank the Maker," he interrupted, pulling her to him. "I thought I lost you."

The elf smiled in the embrace. "Hey, I'm hard to kill."

Evelyn smirked, moving to grab her blade from the blood soaked snow. She inspected it carefully before sheathing it. She looked over her shoulder. The Commander held the Warden in a tight embrace, his lips brushing her forehead. If she hadn't been observing the couple, she wouldn't have noticed Cullen's mouth twist and eyes lower as if he had found his enemy. Her gut churned, remembering that similar gaze when Haven was under attack by the Templars.

"Commander, are we ready to proceed," the Inquisitor asked, standing rigidly, waiting for Cullen to speak up. He remained silent, pulling away from his wife. He nodded his head towards her, his determined gaze remained on the elf, his sword hand perched on his blade.

She twisted her blade in her hand, a roguish smile on her lips. She would speak to him later, when they weren't head deep in giants and red templars. "Good. I'd hate to keep Ishmael waiting."

"Commander, wake up," she heard faintly, the voice panicked. "Dammit, Ashiva, wake up!"

She gasped for air as if she had been underwater for too long. The metallic taste of lyrium was still on her tongue, grounding her. She squinted in the late afternoon light. The mage couldn't remember the last time she had seen daylight. It was blinding for her sensitive eyes, giving her a mild headache. Shakily, she felt the ground around her. Cold and wet, stone floors covered in snow. Somehow she had gotten outside, but how?

Pausing in her investigation the elven Mage pondered how she gotten to a place filled with snow. She remembered the fade and Envy. Her friend, Justice had defended and guided her out of the nightmarish prison. Ashiva thought she could remember another, but the thought was being pulled from her.

"Here, drink," the soft-spoken voice offered a flask carefully placed in her trembling hands.

She didn't question, taking small sips of the chilled liquid. Ashiva was grateful, the precious water flowing through her parched throat. She glanced around her, catching the glimpse of the familiar shoulder length dark hair and olive colored face. The leather armor was different, lighter than the blue armor he normally wore. "Nathaniel?"

The rouge sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "Thank the Maker," mumbled Nathaniel. "I found you in the snow alone. I thought you were dead."

"Snow," she repeated, clenching her fist in the white powder. "I don't understand. I thought we were in the Western Approach."

"You don't remember?"

Ashiva shook her head. "I remember the Fade. Justice was there and...another. I can't remember who it was," She pressed her hand to her temple. "I remember red crystals. They were everywhere in the dark, glowing...singing. It wouldn't stop."

"I see," Nathaniel replied, frowning. He looked around him. "We were in the Western Approach when we were ambushed by Wardens. They separated me from you, left me in a cell. The Inquisition found me, but you were nowhere to be seen. The spymaster found something that leaded the Inquisition here. I followed behind them."

"And where is here," she asked. She was not familiar with the worn stone towers covered in arbor vines and large trees that stretched above her.

"Suledin Keep. It's an ancient Elven fort. The red templars took you here," he explained. He glanced at her, his brown eyes discernible. "I don't know what they done to you, Ash, but it doesn't look good. Are you able to heal yourself so we can move?"

With assistance, she moved to lean her back against the stonewall, hissing. The pain was unbearable. She could only remember one other time she felt like this, on top of Fort Drakon. Her body had crumbled under the monster's body; every breath had felt like inhaling fire. Assessing her situation, she knew she had broken ribs and her left leg although almost healed, had been set improperly. It would have to broken and reset. She saw jagged cuts along her arms and legs. Overall, she would live. Closing her eyes she whispered healing enchantments, relieved to feel the cuts close over, her ribs mending to become bearable.

She opened her eyes, her mind clearing from the fog. Hesitatingly, she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm going to need a weapon, preferably a staff to lean on. My leg isn't something I should be putting my full weight on. I'm also going to need some light armor, maybe some warmer clothes."

Nathaniel nodded, cocking an arrow into his bow. "Clothing and armor should be easy enough with how many damn templars are around. The staff may be the challenge. Think you can handle a blade instead?"

Ashiva glanced at the rogue, a smile tugging on her lips. "You do know who you're talking to, right?"

Nathaniel chuckled, assisting the elf to stand. "I think I am the one who is in the lead. What was it now- 18 to 20?"

""She was their enemy the whole time, but she made them forget, watching them like a predator after prey."

Ashiva jumped, fire materializing in her hand. Nathaniel stood slightly behind her, arrow aimed at the intruder. A few feet away, a pale boy stood, one arm full of dark material and metal armor the other a pike. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came to mind. She knew this person, but where?

"Who are you," Nathaniel demanded.

The leather armor the boy wore reminded her of Orlesian scouts. The large hat, caught her attention, reminding her of the Fade. She lowered her arm, extinguishing the magic with discomfort. "Do I know you?"

"I came to help," the boy said.

"You were there, in the Fade with me," the elf thought out loud, signaling to Nathaniel to drop his weapon. "Did you also help me out of the cell?"

"She knows they're going to kill her, can only push back towards the light, " he murmurs, offering the clothing and weapon. "Here, I found clothes and armor. We need to be quick. The templars are coming and it has your Lion."

The Mage gaped at the assassin, nearly losing her balance. She had rarely called him her Lion, but she always enjoyed him flustered, looking at her with pleading eyes. "Must you insist to call me the name of a large cat?"

"Would you rather me call you pookie bear?"

"No, not really."

The elven warrior exhaled, her legs shaking from overuse. She remembered the golden armor she had made for the Templar before she had disappeared on her journey the helmet shaped like the feline's head, the red lion fur from the animal they had fought in the Frostback Mountains. Closing her eyes, she could almost remember his comforting warmth and a smile that could brighten any blizzard in the mountains.

"Cullen," she whispered to herself. She looked up, her Amber eyes looking over the boy. "Cullen is here?"