The Rogue's Conquest
Chapter Seventeen
"Here you go, Dallie, drink this," said Marian softly as she handed the boy the tankard of coco. "You won't be able to tell me anything with your teeth chattering like that." With a shuddering sigh, the boy took the tankard; his shoulders huddled beneath a blanket Orana had retrieved from the storeroom. Gently Marian brushed his hair back from his forehead, worriedly noting how he'd fallen too far into his own misery to pull back. In a way, she wished he still could cry; that would be better than seeing him withdraw into himself like this.
Better, too, for her to think of the welfare of the boy, Gabriel's son, than to consider the grim reason he'd sought her out. Better not to think how Sebastian had come to her, as well, with Gabe's blood still fresh on his hands and his conscience, and once again she swallowed back the dull, sickening wave of horror and unwitting complicity. Sebastian had been able to tell her he loved her, but not this? Lying in his arms, she had forgotten the grim suffering that came from the mage rebellion, and the awful, casual fragility of life. She had dared to hope that love might be enough for them both. She had changed, and so, she'd believed, had Sebastian.
But, not enough. Dear Gods, not nearly enough.
Behind her, Orana sniffed, still angered with Marian and shuffled to the door. "I'll go warm the hearth in Nova's room," she said, "sleep's the best thing we can offer the poor fella now."
"Not quite yet, Orana." Marian leaned closer to Dallas and rested her hands on his small shoulders. "I know it pains you to speak of it, Dallie, but if you can bear it, I'd like to hear what happened one more time."
"All happened so fast, mum," he mumbled brokenly, staring down into the swirling coco. "Pa and Ah' were late 'cause Pa had tae' go back for more arrows, crossbow bolts an' lyrium, an' so we saw the others get taken by the Templars. Then Pa says we should run, he wasnae' going tae' get caught in that snare like some forsaken beast, so off we start, an' then my uncle hollered at him tae' stop and Pa didnae' and then the bow string hissed, an' Ah' kept running an' running an' running." His head drooped lower, to his chest. "Ah' didnae' know Pa was hit till Ah' looked back an' he was gone. Then Ah' saw the Templars coming, too, an' Ah' kept on running, like Pa says… Said." His eyes squeezed shut as he fought back fresh tears. "Then Ah' came here, Lady Hawke, 'cause Ah' didnae' know where else tae' go, an' that's all Ah' swear tae' it."
"You didn't see where your father fell?" asked Marian gently. "When you stopped to look for him, did you see his body?"
Behind her, Orana gasped angrily. "Marian Annika Hawke, for shame, how dare you! Hasn't the poor fella suffered enough heartache without you making him explore every gruesome detail?"
Without lifting her hands from the boy's shoulders, she glanced over her shoulder, to glare daggers through the little elf. "Hush, Orana, and let Dallie tell us. If he wants to, that is. Only if he wants to."
"Ah' want tae' if ye' do," said Dallas in a small voice. "But Ah' – Ah' never saw Pa again once we started tae' run. Ah' heard him be struck, though. The thunk o' the arrow, Lady Hawke, ye' know how that is. Then Pa crying out, like he couldnae' help it."
"I don't expect he could," said Marian sadly. She didknow the flesh rending thunk an arrowhead made when it found its mark. The sound, on several nights had awoken her with shuddering cold sweats, and it sickened her to think that Dallas knew it too. "But in the dark and all – were you quite sure it was your uncle who shouted, and not some other Templar officer?" She knew it was foolish even to hope that the boy might be wrong, and the speed with which Dallas answered proved it.
"O' course Ah' am sure, mum," he said defensively. "Except fer' the white armor an' stuffy Orleasian hitch tae' his Starkhaven brogue, he looks an' sounds just like Pa. An' Ah' saw him raise the bow, clear as day in the moonlight, before Ah' ran."
Marian sighed unhappily. "But you saw nothing more of your father when you looked back?"
Dallas shook his head. "Nae' one was there except serha Mekel and the Comte de Launcet running, too."
Marian sighed, confusion washing over her. She hadn't a clue, whom Mekel was, and Guillaume de Launcet had left Kirkwall, she had watched him board a ship for Orlais with his wife weeks ago! "Comte de Launcet? Are you sure Dallie?" She questioned, swiping a tear from the corner of the boy's eye. "I watched him leave for Orlais."
"Aye, mum, he left, but before he did Pa tried tae' convince him tae' fight the good fight on account o' his son being a mage an' all. Ah' guess Pa's words sorta stuck, he came back. An' was back with us, along with serha Mekel, cause Pa likes – liked tae' keep the new men with him till he could trust them."
Marian nodded, her thoughts swirling. "I don't believe I know serha Mekel?"
"Ye' don't mum?" asked Dallas, surprise on his otherwise stoic face. "Serha Mekel is second mate o' The Siren's Call," explained Dallas. "Aunt Isabela's ship. An' Comte de Launcet-"
"Is a very prominent Orleasian Lord," Interrupted Marian, her eyebrows creased into a deep V as she desperately tried to puzzle the pieces. "He's a good man, sure to earn your father's confidence."
"But he cannae' now," said Dallas, his voice barely audible. "Not from mah' Pa, anyways."
"What else do you know about both men, Dallie?" asked Marian, hating herself for how callous she felt, grilling a boy who'd already been through so much. Orana was right; she was shameful indeed.
"Ah' dunno much about serha Mekel, he keeps tae' himself a lot, but he's nearly as good as Pa with a bow, an' better than aunt Isabela with daggers."
"Don't tell aunt Bela that," Marian teased, chucking a finger under Dallas's chin, hoping to coax a smile from him. Instead his face grew more haunted, his eyes more hollow, and she found herself wondering what horrid deeds of Mekel and his blades that the boy was reliving. "And what of the Comte?" she urged, giving the boys shoulders a light shake to bring him back to her.
Dallas hummed quietly to himself as he thought. Suddenly his eyes sparked and he met Marian's intent gaze. "Pa says – said, Comte de Launcet is an asset cause he owns a mill on the outskirts o' the cities limits!"
That's it! Swiftly she rose and reached for the box of bandages, health potions and other surgeon's supplies from the cupboard's top shelf. The last time she took the box down had been to tend to Sebastian, and now, with the tables turned, she prayed she'd be able to do the same for Gabriel. Please Gods let him still be alive, she begged silently, please say that Sebastian didn't kill his brother, as his orders told him he must!
She traded her silk covered slippers for the thick-soled shoes she kept by the back door and wrapped a heavy shawl around her shoulders. She began to take her own cloak down from the peg, than reconsidered and took Orana's coarser one instead. Though she doubted that the sentry Sebastian had assigned to her would be waiting to follow her at this time of night, she still thought it best to be careful. With the cloak's hood pulled up over her face and in the dark, she could pass for Orana. She planned to slip out the back door and through the stable to tack Casey, so that she could be sure the Templars couldn't follow. The mare would be too fast, gone like a drunkard's shot of whiskey, before they could ready their own beasts.
Fleetingly she considered leaving a message for Sebastian to find when he awoke, some explanation for where she'd gone. But after what they'd shared, only the truth would do between them, and how would the truth look on paper?
'Oh, hey love, wild night, I believe we broke the bedsprings. But I'm off, on a quest to save your brother's life, and fix your foolish mistake. Pancakes in the kitchen if you're hungry.
XOXOX
Mari'
Nay, he wouldn't understand, any more than Gabriel would understand how she felt about Sebastian, and all too easily she could imagine the stern frown of disapproval on Sebastian's face. No, far better for her to slip away now and pray she'd return before he awoke.
"Orana, if you could warm Nova's room, I believe Dallas should rest now," whispered Marian, at the elf's ear.
"You're going out to find serha Vael then, aren't you, Mari?" asked Orana. She nodded with approval. "It's good that you are. Master Vael has been a good friend to the Rose, and to the cause of freedom." Marian gazed at the cook through the narrowed slits of her eyes. What in the Black Void was Orana thinking? The boy would never sleep now, not with the mention of his father. Instantly Dallas was on his feet, proving her fears right. "If ye're going after Pa, then Ah' am coming with ye'."
"Oh, Dallas, I'm not sure that's such a good idea," said Marian softly. The boy had suffered enough tonight, and she'd no wish to raise his hopes again. All she could guess was that this Mekel fella and the Comte had carried Gabriel away before the Templars could find him. Whether they had carried a live man or a dead one was another question altogether. "You'll do better to stay here with Orana, and I promise I'll come tell you whatever I learn when I return."
"Nae', mum!" The boy hurried forward, awkwardly taking the basket away from her. "Please, mum. If ye' know where my Pa is, then Ah' am coming. Ah' have tae'. Mah' place is with my Pa."
Marian began to refuse, then stopped. She recognized the harsh set in his upturned jaw. That unrelenting, 'never back down, never take no for an answer' determination so much like Nova's, that stern certainty that all Vael's had, and inwardly she winced as she realized that for the first time she'd thought of Nova as a Vael. Sebastian, Gabriel, Dallas and Nova – Gods, how had their lives all become so completely tangled?
"Please, mum," Dallas urged again. "Ah' swear Ah'll be nae' trouble at all."
She remembered how Nova had begged to come with her, too, and how many times since she'd wished she'd agreed. How could she possibly deny Gabe's son the same?
Slowly she began to remove her cloak and shawl stuffing both in the basket of supplies. Her plan wouldn't work now it was far too risky. If the Templars did catch her as she fled the city on horseback they'd very likely shoot at her, with only her life at stake she figured the risk a necessary evil. But now she'd have to figure out a better plan. Though as she thought more about the one she was conjuring, it too seemed just as foolhardy.
She'd shift, let the wolf take form and they'd walk right out the front door. She and Dallas would look like a sleepy boy taking his restless dog for a walk – his very big, BIG dog – yes. But what were the other options? She could shift to the hawk and be less noticeable, but if the boy was attacked being two-hundred and fifty pounds of raw fury, with jaws that could rip a mans adams apple right out of his throat, through even the strongest of armor, seemed far more advantageous than daintily pecking at horned helms would be. And since shifting out of animal form wasn't always something guaranteed when in the heat of battle, she'd be better off to just be ready for anything. She'd have Dallas carry her clothes and once outside the city she'd change back. Simple…Problem solved. Riiiggghhttt, as if anything's ever that simple! Gods, where was Isabela when nothing but ballsy, recklessness would suffice?
"Well come along then." She said moving toward the hall.
"Your going out the front, Mari," Orana asked, worriedly following Marian to the door, Dallas right on her heels. "Isn't that dangerous?"
"Maybe… Maybe not… Dallas, remember when you really wanted that mabari pup, and your Pa wouldn't allow it?"
"Aye, mum." the boy answered uncertainty written all over his filthy face.
"Well… You're getting a wolf."
Stepping into the chill of twilight, her sharp nails ticked lightly on the snowy cobblestone and she winced, for the light sound they made echoed loudly through the streets. Immediately, a rush of icy fear lanced through her body and raced down her spine making her hackles raise, and she wasn't the only one that felt it. Dallas came to stand closer to her, wrapping a hand, in a painful grip around her tail as if seeking comfort. Instinctively, she swept her gaze around looking for the source, her lips drawing back from her fangs defensively. But she found nothing, not a Templar sentry, nor soldier, or anyone for that matter. Not even the usual beggars, sat outside her door! Instead the streets were ghostly deserted; a thick fog had settled over the snow-covered cobblestone, and under the moons eerie glow, Marian, felt spotlighted, stalked and incredibly vulnerable, as if she'd just walked out of the tavern, in the middle of the day, completely naked. She wanted nothing more then to turn back into the heat of the Rose and back into Sebastian's arms. But, to do so would also mean she'd be turning her back on Gabriel. Though the man was hard as stone, and more stubborn than twenty mules put together, Orana was right, Gabe was a friend, a good friend and if she could save his foolish arse and deny the streets a few more orphaned children, well that would be worth much more than her own chaotic life could ever be.
Physically, she shook herself from head to tail, taking another slow, sweeping survey of their surroundings. Still she found nothing, no reason for her hackles to be bristled, no man, nor beast stalking them from the shadows. Ignoring the coward screaming in her head, she moved forward… Only to be halted by Dallas' hand, still gripped tight around the center of her tail. The boy stood as still as a statue, his legs spread wide apart, one hand gripping the basket, the other outstretched to hold her. And bless the poor child's heart, though he warred with himself to be brave, Marian could smell his fear, how it held him in place as if unseen vines had crawled from beneath the snow to strangle his small form. Gods! What had she been thinking? How could she expect a ten-year-old boy to be brave, when in this night alone he'd watched his father murdered by his uncle, Templars had struck out at men he knew and loved, and now, he was to traipse about hostile streets, in the middle of the night, with only her and a prayer to keep him safe. She was twenty-eight-years old, the Champion of Kirkwall and a Qunari slayer, yet even she was terrified!
She wanted to hug him to her, to reassure him that all would be well, but there wasn't time for that. They had to get moving, the longer they sat out in the open like this, the more dangerous their situation became. Walking towards the boy as best she could with his hand still knotted on her tail, she cooed, as a mother wolf would to her pup, nuzzling her snout into the boy's chest. When he didn't giggle, or move as she expected him to, Marian wagged her tail vigorously in the hopes it would shake him from his frightened daze. Instead she only managed to have a chunk of fur ripped from her tail's follicles, as his hand slipped away from her. Still he remained stone-like, his face as white as a sheet, and big, turquoise eyes seemingly looking through her, shining bright with unshed, crystalline tears. Gods, he's gone into shock!
She sent yet a another prayer skyward though no one seemed to be heeding them, then using the only idea she could think of, Marian wedged herself between the boy's legs. He was still small enough that she could carry him on her back. And though she'd be forced to move slower under the extra weight, movement alone would be a gift. Rising slowly, she felt him center himself on her back, and nearly leapt with joy when his instinct took over and he scruffed her neck tight in the fist not holding the basket. Without another moment of hesitation, she lurched forward, taking off into a full tilt sprint. She was certain once out of the city the unease that roiled low in her stomach would subside.
It hadn't. Instead she'd felt more stalked. Once outside the city's great walls, she had moved from the road, in favor of the shadows the trees would provide. Slowing to a halt she let Dallas slip from her back and grabbed the basket from his hand with her mouth now would be the best time to shift. Sniffing the area around her to be sure they weren't being followed, she was hit – for the second time – with the earthy scent of rosewood and the musk of leather oil, a heady scent that rocketed a sensual passion from her ears to her toes. And why wouldn't it? After all, she'd come to associate it with Sebastian Vael. Get it together Mari! Hermind screeched. There's no time to pine over the fool Templar. Her inner, smarter self was right of course. Sebastian was tucked away safe in his bed, she had made certain of it and though she wished to be there with him, one couldn't always get what they wanted. Allowing herself to be distracted by the nights passion would most certainly bring nothing but harm, even if the distraction was completely enchanting.
Bowing her head and growling in contempt of her desire, she moved behind a huge oak to shift, keeping Dallas in her view at all times. The boy had finally started to come out of his shocked stupor. And Marian thanked the Gods for small favors; for she wouldn't be able to carry him the rest of the way. Already her body was sore, her muscles tightening in the chilly air, and her nerves screamed their protest with every move she made. Aye, if he could walk on his own she'd kiss the feet of every God and Goddess that resided in the black, diamond filled sky above.
Stepping from behind the grand oak, Marian straightened her thin night robe and Orana's heavy cloak as best she could with her fingers still shaking from the adrenaline of the shift. "Let's go Dallie," she whispered her voice rough as she extended a hand to him. "We've much ground to cover."
"Aye, mum." the boy whispered back, but didn't take her offered hand. With a frown upon her face she watched as he began walking ahead of her his head hung low, tears glistening in the corner of his eyes.
"Dallas." She called, moving forward to grab his shoulders, and kneeled on the cold snow in front of him. "What is it?" The look he gave her nearly broke her heart.
"Ah've failed, Lady Hawke. First Pa, now ye'. Gods, if Pa is still alive, he'll think me a coward on account o' me freezing up back there!" His words did break her heart. No child… No human being for that matter should have ever had to feel, as she knew he did. And she cursed Gabriel for the stress and burden he had so stupidly laid upon his son's young shoulders.
"Now you listen to me Dallas James Vael, and you listen good." She said her voice deadly serious. "I've known men - noble warriors like your Pa - who would be tucked away in a corner, crying themselves to sleep if they'd witnessed half of what you have this night. By the Gods I'm terrified!"
"Ye' are?" He asked his face contorting into surprise. "But ye're the Champion. Pa says… said you killed giant spiders, a high dragon an even a Qunari Arishok! Ye' cannae' be 'fraid o' nothing!"
"Ah, but I am. I'm afraid of lots of things Dallas, spiders topping that list." She smiled as his face fell from surprised, to a look of utter shock. "Fear is natural Dallie, it's an instinct, and it's what helps us survive. If you weren't afraid of anything, then I'd think you a fool, for only a fool doesn't know fear. Are you a fool, boy?" she questioned, but continued before he could do more than shake his head back and forth. "When I faced the Arishok I could barely hold my staff my hands were quaking so badly. I was certain, as I stared into his black, beady eyes that; that was the end, that I had failed-"
"But ye' beat him!" Dallas interrupted, unable to control his excitement. "Pa says ye' left him gasping his own blood, right there on the throne room steps."
Oh Gabriel, Marian sighed inwardly, pinching her eyes closed as the boy recounted the tail of the Arishok's demise. He didn't miss a single detail of the duel, and it made her cringe. Though he was in a ten-year-olds body she'd have to soon accept, that he'd been told, and had witnessed things most people never in their lifetimes, ever would.
"Dallas, stop. Killing the Arishok wasn't the point I was trying to make. Taking the life of another human being isn't-" She began, but was again interrupted by the boy's enthusiasm.
"Nay, mum. We'll find mah' Pa, then will lay waste tae' these Templar scum. Like ye' did the Arishok!"
"Dallas!" She called, but the boy had already squirmed from her grasp and was marching ahead, no longer listening to her. Gods help us all! She prayed, as the icy feeling of being stalked reared it's ugly head once more, and pushed her feet into motion, after the lad.
De Launcet's mill was one of several that stood on the very tip of the hill overlooking Kirkwall, their long, sweeping blades nearly always in motion by day as they caught the wind that rose from the water. But now the canvas sails were furled for the night and the blades lashed to the ground, their outlines rising from the hilltop like oversized spider webs against the sky. "I've no guarantee your father will be here," cautioned Marian, her voice low in the silence of the night. "I'm only guessing that serha Mekel and the Comte brought him back to the mill."
Silently Dallas nodded and pushed his hat down lower on his brow. The weeks of hiding with his father once again showed. He moved with a stealthy ease beyond his years, sliding from shadow to shadow in the empty fields, and said not another word since her earlier –failed- attempt at talking with him. In a way, he probably knew the odds against finding his father alive better than Marian did. But neither of them would give up, not now. "I believe the Comte's mill is the one to the left," she continued. "Or have you been here before with your Pa?"
This time Dallas shook his head, but as he did his expression abruptly changed, his eyes going wild with alarm. He'd already turned to run when Marian grabbed his arm to hold him, just as the two Templar soldiers stepped into their path.
"Tis either very early or very late for you to be about, mistress," said the older man, peering at her. "A strange time for you and the lad both."
Though Marian felt the tremor of fear run through Dallas' body, still she held him tight. If she let him go, he'd bolt, and as much as admit their errand.
"No babe ever chooses a convenient time for birthing," she said, surprising herself by how readily the lie came to her lips. "The boy came to bring me to ease his mother's agony." Clearly uncomfortable with the notion of such womanly matters, the older soldier only grunted, while the other one shifted from one foot to the other as he tried to warm himself. A good sign, decided Marian: the man was thinking less of her and more of returning to his quarters when his watch was done. She took the basket from Dallas and held it out toward the two men, lifting her shawl so they could look inside. "You can judge for yourself, sirs," she said. "Nothing to threaten the Maker's servants at all."
The soldier inched forward, his mouth twisted with distaste as he prodded through the basket's contents. He glanced back at Marian, and suddenly smiled. "Ah, now, why didn't you say who you were, mistress?" His whole manner instantly became complaisant as he tapped his knuckles on his shimmering chest plate. "You're the Knight-Commander's, ah, lady."
Marian stiffened, her cheeks growing hot. She didn't like being linked to Sebastian this way, as if she were some sort of possession of his. She wasn't his lady, though after tonight she couldn't deny being his. "Knight-Commander Vael is quartered beneath my roof," she said with icy formality, "and so we are acquainted, friends even. But I am no more his 'lady' than he is my gentleman."
"Of course not, ma'am," said the soldier quickly, with a little bow of his head. "Begging your pardon, ma'am." But the knowing grin remained on his face, and the face of his companion, as well, and with a hideous sinking certainty Marian realized that the reputation she'd worked so hard to guard was now tattered and tarnished and common in the soldiers' camp. Love alone, even Sebastian's love, could not protect her from that, either.
"Am I free to go, serha?" She hissed, thankful that in the dark they couldn't see how she flushed with shame. "The boy's mother is in desperate need of me."
"As you wish, ma'am," said the older soldier, stepping to one side slinging his bow over his shoulder. "You and the boy both, are free as the day is long." Yet freedom was far from Marian's thoughts as she and Dallas hurried up the snowy path that led to the mill. Loving Sebastian had brought her a joy she'd never found in her life before, but the price she would pay for that joy was going to be a steep one indeed. And it wasn't just her this time; Nova would suffer, too. She'd known from the beginning that there was no future for her together with Sebastian, and he'd never pretended otherwise. But now came the cold reality of what they'd done – what she had done – and again the consequences loomed heavily before her.
Though she'd shared many beds in her life, she had never intended to share his again. What had happened to her eleven years ago should have been warning enough, and unconsciously her hand fluttered down to brush across her belly. Had the easy lie she'd told the soldiers really been some dark premonition from her guilty conscience?
"Pa was right, Lady Hawke," said Dallas at her side.
"About what, Dallie" whispered Marian, too tangled in her own thoughts to grasp his meaning.
"About me being safe with ye'." For the first time, he slipped his hand in hers, self-consciously permitting himself to seek that small, childish comfort from her. "He said nae' matter which way the wind blew, ye'd always come out on the winning side. He said ye' were the cleverest lady he knew, an' he was right. Ye' answered those Templars easily, an' then ye' knew my uncle, too." His fingers tightened around hers. "Mah' damned uncle." She stared up at the windmill before them and didn't answer. What could she say that would mean anything to either one of them?
The snow beneath their shoes crunched as they made their way up the path, and the wind that powered the mills by day now sent Marian's cloak and robe swishing about her legs. With one hand she bunched them up at her side, hurrying the last few feet up the path with the basket swinging from her arm. The mill itself was dark, as was the little shingled cottage behind it where the Comte would come to seek haven from his wife.
"Nae' one's home," said Dallas, dropping with disappointment. "They didnae' come here after all."
"That's what they want you to believe, isn't it?" Still clutching her night robe and cloak in one hand, Marian walked around to the back of the cottage, picking her way through the dry stalks and twigs of last years garden. Here the shutters were latched shut over the windows, keeping out the coldest of the wind from the north. But the closed shutters would also keep out inquisitive eyes, and a faint line of candlelight from within glimmered around the edges of the boards. With her fist, Marian thumped against one of the shutters, sending the dry wood rattling against the squeaking hinges. No answer came, and she knocked again, harder.
"It's Marian Hawke," she called, raising her voice to be heard over the wind, "And I've Dallas Vael with me, too, if you'll but open the door to us." She thought she heard scuffling from within, and the low murmur of voices. Then came a scraping at the back door as the latch was lifted from within, and the door cracked open as the Comte peeked cautiously out, the glinting steel of a daggers edge thrust through the opening, as well.
"Comte de Launcet!" With a gasp of anticipation, Dallas lunged toward the door, wriggling like an anxious pup. "Pa's in there, is he nae'? Ah've got tae' see my Pa!"
"Wait, Dallie, please!" With her gaze firmly on the dagger, Marian grabbed the boy by his coat and pulled him back. "We don't mean any harm, Guillaume, and I swear we are alone. We've only come to find news of Gabriel, the boy's-"
"In with you now," growled the Comte, motioning with the dagger as he looked past them and down the path where they'd come, "and be quick about it, too." Dallas pulled free and rushed through the half opened door. Marian followed more slowly, and as she squeezed past the Comte she could smell the stale smell that was the sweat of real fear, and see how he swallowed over and over, his throat shifting convulsively as if he could swallow his anxiety. Then she saw the scene before her, lit by a fading fire and a single lantern set on the floor, and forgot everything else.
Sprawled on his side across a low, narrow bed lay Gabriel Vael. His coat was gone, and so was his waistcoat, and the stark white linen of his tunic's front was red with the blood that the makeshift bandage around his chest had done little to stanch. His face was pale, deathly pale, and Marian would have doubted he lived still, if his hand were not curled around the head of his son, kneeling beside the bed with his face buried against his father's arm. "Templars did it, mistress, the Black Divine rot their souls," said the Comte despondently as he laid his dagger upon the table. The second man, Mekel, sat crouched on the floor close to the fire, a bottle of rum cradled in his lap as he stared blankly into the fire. "Took us straight by surprise. Almost as if they were invited. Mekel and I, we did what we could for Gabe, but you see how it is with him. The best surgeon in the city couldn't do more."
Gabriel groaned. "Then why don't ye' bury me now, Guillaume?" he rasped without opening his eyes. "Save yerself' the trouble later."
"Ha," Marian scoffed. "You've never spared anyone a lick of trouble in your whole life, Gabriel Vael," she said softer than she intended as she knelt beside the bed. "Why should you change now?"
Slowly Gabe opened his eyes, squinting up at her. "So it is ye', Mistress Mari," he said. "Come tae' weep over me, sweet cherry?"
"Nay, not yet, I'm not. You won't give the Templars the satisfaction of dying like this, Gabe, and you know it." She slid her cloak from her shoulders and leaned over him. "Where were you hit?"
"Shoulder. The arrow splintered, Ah' can feel the pieces in there, too." Grimacing, Gabriel tried to ease himself higher onto the pillow. "Sebastian never had much o' an aim with a bow."
"He did better than you."
"A lucky shot." Gabe smiled weakly. "Did he ever figure out Ah' was the one who pegged him that night?"
"I wouldn't know," she said, more defensively than she'd intended. She didn't like talking to him about Sebastian. What they had was too precious and fragile for her to share with anyone just yet, and especially not with Gabe. But Gabriel wasn't listening any longer, not enough to notice. His gaze had turned inward as he wrestled with the pain, and carefully as Marian could, she began to unfasten his bloodstained tunic, that was serving as a bandage.
"Dallie, sweet," she murmured as she leaned over the boy, "you're going to have to move."
"Shove along there, lad, do as the lady says." Gabriel winced as he stretched out to ruffle his son's hair. "She's the one giving the orders now."
"Aye, aye, Pa." Reluctantly the boy slid along the edge of the bed, just beyond Marian's way and still within his father's reach.
Gabe smiled, more of a grimace. "Its nae' so bad takin' orders from a lady, Dallie. Yer' mammy made it an out-an'-out pleasure."
Dallas swallowed. "My mammy wasnae' like that," he mumbled. "She never ordered anyone around."
"Oh, aye, she did," said Gabe gently. "She just had a way with her that made ye' beg tae' do whatever she asked."
Marian looked up, startled by the tenderness in his gruff voice. Maria Vael had been more than his wife; she'd also been the one great love of his life, the one that could never be replaced by any other. It was the same with her, thought Marian sadly as she cut away the last bit of bandage, the same way she felt about Sebastian.
Her lips compressed as she uncovered the ragged wound torn into the flesh and muscle beneath Gabriel's collarbone. She'd never had to retrieve the remnants of a shattered arrow shaft before, and she wasn't quite sure how to do it, but to leave shards of wood and torn linen inside would mean Gabriel's death. He was strong as a horse and nearly as large; she was surprised he remained as lucid as he did, considering how much blood he'd lost. But all too well she knew what happened to strong men when infection and fever filled a wound. Gently she touched him again, and she saw how his whole body went rigid. This was worse than anything she'd ever tended before, far worse, she needed Anders… Anders!She hadn't even thought of her fellow mage. Gods!
"Where is Anders?" She asked, cocking her head to where both the Comte and Mekel stood by the hearth. "Was he taken with the others?" Glimpsing from each man then back to Gabriel, Marian got the distinct impression she'd been left out of much more than she thought. "Gabe?" She questioned, when –for the first time ever - he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Capt 'N' Isabela took him away about a week ago." Mekel answered behind her, he too, not meeting her eyes. "The Templars were hot on his tail, so Gabe thought it best he be sent away. If the Templars caught him he'd be hung immediately, without a trial fore sure."
"Gabriel did?" Marian growled through clenched teeth, as she swung her head back around to glare at the man in question. "I didn't realize that such decisions were made without first going through me. So then where did the good captain bring serha Anders?" She knew she was being childish, that she needed to focus on patching up Gabriel the best she could. But, it burnt her that her friends were now inclined to sneak around under her nose as if she were the enemy.
Gabriel sucked in a sharp breath, his face twisting in pain before he exhaled and began to speak. "Mari… Does it matter? He's safe from the Templars an'-"
"Me? Gabe. Is that what you're going to say, Anders is safe from me?"
"Nay'… Yes… NAY"… Damn it woman." He bellowed attempting to sit up and meet her gaze. "Ye've been so closely linked with Sebastian, Mari, we couldnae' take the chance-"
"That I had turned coat." She whispered, her fury simmering down to outright guilt. What did she expect? If she felt there was a traitor in her midst she'd cast them out too. Clearing her throat she stared down upon Gabe's wound. "Well I'm no Anders. I don't carry his healing prowess, but I think with the health potions I've brought that I can tend this the old fashion way."
"Mari-"
"Don't Gabe." She said, hearing the apology in his voice. She'd only be more of a snake if she allowed him to apologize to her, as guilty as she was. Shuttering the turmoil that swarmed beneath she focused harder on the task before her. Sending for a surgeon was the best course, but the Templars would be watching every one of their houses for just such a request, hoping to be led to Gabriel. His only hope now lay with her, and she prayed she wouldn't fail him.
She glanced at Dallas; his eyes were enormous as he watched her. She lowered her voice for Gabe's ears alone. "Are you sure you want Dallie here at all, Gabriel."
"He's seen worse," said Gabe, more sharply than Marian thought he'd be capable of. "Mah' boy's nae' a coward, Mari."
"I'm not saying he is, Gabriel. But he's still a child, no matter how much you wish otherwise, and he's suffered a great deal on your behalf this night already."
"He'll be fine, Marian. We both will." With a grunt of pain, he pushed himself up on his elbow so that he could smile at Dallas. "Now go ahead, lass. Do yer' worst. That's why ye've come, is it nae'?"
Mekel handed him the bottle of rum. "Here, serha you'll be needing this."
"Thank ye." Gabriel drank deeply from the bottle as Marian tore away the rest of his shirt. Without being asked, Mekel brought her a basin of water, and gently she eased Gabe flat onto his back.
"Would you mind holding the lantern up for me, Comte de Launcet?" she asked, and the man quickly obeyed. She was glad that he didn't seem squeamish; she wished she felt as equally sure of herself. As carefully as she could, she began to search for the shattered pieces of wood, and she felt how Gabriel again stiffened beneath her touch. Only once did he begin to swear, an oath that broke off midway into a groan, and without a word Mekel stepped forward to hold Gabe steady. She realized they'd all seen and done such things before, helping a surgeon with a wounded companion like this, from Dallas on up, including herself. Yet, seemingly, she was the only one that still found this business of war ghastly.
But this was what Sebastian faced every day as a soldier, a life where the single certainty was death. A life where there'd be little place for love, and less for her.
With an effort, she forced her thoughts back to the task before her. To her relief, only a single splinter lingered in Gabe's wound. It hadn't burrowed nearly as deep as she initially thought and once she'd drawn it free with her fingers she cleaned and dressed the wound as quickly as she could. When she was done, Gabriel lay pale and sweating, his eyes still squeezed shut against the pain but his breathing less ragged. He'd sleep; Gods willing, and she sighed with relief and weariness as she sent a light wave of warming magic from her fingers, directly to where he'd been hit. The little stitch of healing magic she'd learned from Anders. She couldn't fully heal him, not with an injury so grave, but she was certain he, at the very least, would survive.
"Best to let him rest now," Marian said softly to Mekel as she drew the cover over Gabriel's bandaged chest. "But as soon as you can arrange it, you must all leave Kirkwall for Starkhaven, or Antiva it doesn't matter. You can't stay here!"
Gabriel's eyes flew open. "Why?" he croaked.
"Hush, Gabe, don't trouble yourself over-"
"The damned Divine take yer' care, Mari," he said thickly. "Tell me what ye' know."
"Only if you promise to heed me." She knelt beside the bed, her face close to his and her voice urgent. "Your luck's spent, Gabriel. As soon as it's daylight the Divine's Elite will be looking for you, and this time they're not going to stop until they find you."
"Nae' just the Elite," said Gabe. "Sebastian."
Marian sighed unhappily. "Yes, Sebastian. He's sworn he'll search every house and barn near to where you were last night, and I doubt he'll stop there."
"Let him." The rasped words were defiant, a dare. "He'll find nothing at Deadman's Cove except fer' yer' cousin's house."
"The Cove!" Marian gasped with dismay. "But that's where Nova is!"
"An' what of it? Sebastian doesn't want yer' daughter."
"You don't understand, Gabe. You can't possibly know what-" She broke off abruptly before she betrayed herself, fear twisting within her breast. She couldn't let Sebastian find Nova, not like this. Her greatest secret would be torn away the moment he saw their daughter, and when the others saw them together. The resemblance would be far too clear to ignore, and she couldn't do that to Nova.
"I have to go to her now, Gabe, before the Templars find her," said Marian; the sick dread she felt giving her words a frantic urgency. "I have to go bring her home now!"
Gabriel frowned. "Ye' know she's safe with Rana. Ah' know the Arainai are on the Divine's wanted list, but Gods woman nae' one even knows what Rana an' the assassin even look like. She's probably safer with yer' cousin than she'd be in the city."
"That's not it, Gabe, that's not it at all!" Marian cried anxiously collecting the contents of her basket. "Oh, you can't possibly understand!"
"But Ah' can, Mari." He glanced down at Dallas, who was sleeping with his head on the edge of the bed, and the love in his gaze was unmistakable. "How could Ah' nae'? If ye' want Nova back with ye', then ye' shall have her. An' Ah' am coming with ye'."
"Don't be foolish," she said, chiding him. "You're not fit to go anywhere." With a great, determined effort, he pushed himself up to sit on the bed. "Ye' came here fer' me, lass," he said, "an' now Ah' will do the same fer' ye'. If ye' go, ye' willnae' be going alone."
7-7-7
"We could take them now, Knight-Commander," whispered corporal Keran. "We two could do it, you and me, sir, no mistake."
"We could, corporal," said Sebastian curtly, "but we won't. We'll wait for Knight-Captain Hunter to comeback with the others."
"But, sir, seeing how that's the one you wounded and all, and we're-"
"I said we'll wait," repeated Sebastian, and the tension in his voice immediately silenced the other man's eagerness, a tension that Sebastian was scarcely aware of. Instead, his whole being was concentrating on peering through the crack in the run-down little cottage's shutter, and watching what passed within.
He hated himself for spying on Marian like this, just as he'd hated trailing her through dark streets, and barren land. Yet he couldn't help it. He wasn't supposed to help it; she was aiding and comforting his enemy, and it didn't matter that the enemy was his brother, as well. He was simply following orders.
As if they were miming actors in a silent play, Marian smiled at Gabriel, touching her fingers to his cheek. Their relationship undeniably close, their fondness for one another unmistakable. Still smiling, she leaned forward and kissed his cheek, touching her lips to the place her hand had been, and Sebastian felt his heart crash apart in his chest. He loved her, and this was how she returned his love. This very night he had lavished that love upon her, treating her like the rare treasure he judged her to be, giving her, too his own heart with it.
And still it hadn't been enough. She had listened to him babble on about his past, his family, and his dreams. She had encouraged his kisses and welcomed his caresses, and she'd even whispered that she loved him in return, making him the happiest fool in Thedas. But she hadn't asked for anything beyond that, and he'd been too infatuated to think beyond the haven of his curtained bed. He didn't doubt that she loved him – Mari couldn't lie about something like that – but for her, that love alone didn't seem to be enough. The moment she thought he was asleep, he'd watched her leave like a thief in the night and come here to Gabriel.
To Gabe.
How wrong he'd been to trust her, and to believe she cared for him, more than for these infernal notions of freedom! No doubt she'd already relayed to Gabe and the others every last word Sebastian had carelessly confided. Hanging in the shadows as he followed behind her with Keran and Hunter, Sebastian had heard his nephew speak of her as The Champion. News that wasn't particularly shocking to him, but why hadn't she felt safe enough with him to confide her status? Adding salt to his wounds, he'd also heard her use their relationship as protection when the two Templar soldiers stopped her. A friend, that was what she'd said he was to her, a friend and nothing else, the same way she'd described her connection to his brother.
"Maker, Knight-Commander, serha, looks like they're leaving!" whispered Keran excitedly. "We could take 'em one at a time, serha, soon as they come through the door!"
"I've made my decision, corporal," said Sebastian firmly. "We shall wait for Hunter with the reinforcements."
"Yes, sir," agreed Keran miserably, until frustration forced him to speak up one more time. "But what if they leave the windmill before Knight-Captain Hunter returns?"
"Then we'll follow," replied Sebastian. "Perhaps they'll lead us to one more of their dens."
"But, serha, I-"
"I am decided, Keran," said Sebastian with the perfect, icy distance of an officer of the Divine, a distance that could cover anything where an enlisted man was concerned. "We wait for reinforcements, and follow these rogues as necessary. But I want them alive, Keran. All of them, especially the woman and the leader, alive."