Chapter 39
Before leaving the temple, Emma turned to look back at the spacious, glittering hall and frowned. Her previous awe had been tarnished by pain and anger. She wanted to go back to how she'd been before the Gauntlet but she couldn't. Rage now simmered in her heart, twisting with growing resentment born of the fact that she hadn't asked for this She found no valid reason for having the unwanted memory thrust upon her in such a way, and if she could have ripped it out with her bare hands she would have done so. Something close to a growl escaped her lips and she spat on the ground in contempt of everything she'd encountered and everything she'd endured. Without a backwards look, she walked out the door.
Crisp, cold evening air greeted them as they emerged from the temple and walked the steep mountain path. The village of Haven was silent as a tomb, only the skittering of dead leaves on the ground interrupting the quiet. "Not much of a moon tonight, so we'll take the ashes to Redcliffe first thing in the morning. For now, let's head back to camp and get some much-needed rest," Aedan said. Everyone nodded wearily, already picturing being snuggled in their warm bedrolls, the thick material of their tents blocking out the chill wind.
They'd reached the bottom of the hill when another sound broke the stillness of the night. A high-pitched whistling noise split the air, followed by a dull thud as the arrow embedded itself in Aedan's shoulder.
"No!" Fear coursed through Emma's veins as she saw rivulets of blood running down his arm. She reached Aedan just as Alistair caught him and lowered him to the ground. Emma spun, her eyes searching for the archer as she raised a barrier to protect the group from any more arrows. A slight movement caught her eye and she cast Blizzard, stopping the person in their tracks.
She marched forward, fury making her head pound and her blood quicken. She reached the person and stared in disbelief. Through the frost and snow, she could make out the features of one of the villagers - one of the same villagers she'd previously spared. "Fuck! You son of a bitch! I spared your life and this is how you repay me?!" She reigned in the visible anger. "You picked the wrong day to piss me off." Her low, cold tone matched the freezing blizzard which whirled around her. She cast Winter's Grasp, ignoring his cry of pain, knowing it was nothing compared to what he would soon feel. Then, she cast Crushing Prison and the cry turned to a scream as she returned to Aedan.
She swallowed hard at the sight of the blood, and the sickly grey colour of his face. "We need to get him back to camp," Zevran said, none of his usual humour evident now. Emma turned to him. "I don't understand. Why can't we heal him here?"
The assassin looked up, his expression deadly serious. "The arrowhead is coated with a toxin. I need to mix something up for this particular poison, and for that, I need my ingredients and vials, all of which are back at camp." She noted that the arrow had been removed and water poured over the wound, presumably to clear out some of the poison. Aedan's breathing sounded rough as Alistair and Zevran helped him to his feet and supported him as he walked on unsteady legs.
Emma had to fight an urge to go and burn the place to the ground. The unbidden thought scared her; this cruelty didn't belong in her, it wasn't who she was. Then people shouldn't be such assholes. That now familiar fury leapt up again and she realised she'd been too soft in the past. Helping some kid with their injured dog? Such a rookie move to have fallen for that, and look what happened when she'd taken pity on the villagers? Aedan ended up with a poisoned arrow in his shoulder. No! Screw the lot of them; they didn't deserve any mercy.
She became aware that her hands were shaking and pulled them into the confines of her cloak. "He's going to be all right, child." Wynne's comforting voice wrapped around her like a warm blanket but did little to relieve the coldness gripping her heart. She mumbled something to placate Wynne and lifted her gaze to Aedan. A pain shot through her chest when she realised he couldn't walk any more, his weight now carried by the men on either side of him. You seem to have a habit of getting people killed with your thoughtless actions. She clenched her jaw, wanting to beat the shit out of the annoying voice.
Blimey, she needed to calm down, to take a moment to catch her breath from all the crap that had happened in the last couple of hours. Her head throbbed and her body ached; she just felt tired of it all. She decided not to think of what the Guardian had dragged to the surface, not right now, at least. Not ever. Her main concern had to be for Aedan and his recovery; she would focus only on that. As for the rest, she would deal with that later. Possibly.
They reached the camp and Aedan was carried into their tent, stripped of his armour and made as comfortable as possible. Zevran, meanwhile, had dashed off to his tent to start mixing the anti-venom potion. Emma didn't know who'd placed the bowl of water and stack of clean linen near her, but she soaked a folded piece of cloth in the cool water and laid it on Aedan's fevered brow. Wetting another piece of linen, she wiped off the sweat covering his body, trying not to look at the nasty wound, though inevitably her gaze kept straying to it. The arrow had left a ragged hole, the flesh raw and ripped, but what scared Emma were the black lines spreading out from the injury like a dirty spider web. Wynne grabbed another cloth and started cleaning the wound as best she could; many bloodied cloths were discarded, making Emma's stomach curdle and new pangs of worry tighten her chest.
Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back, refusing to be weak any more. Zevran strode in carrying a small vial of green liquid in his hand. "We need to wake him up, I don't want him choking."
She leaned over Aedan and pressed a kiss just below his ear before placing her lips next to it and whispering, "Come on, love. I need you." Her low, throaty voice drew a groan and a slight movement of his fingers. "That's it, Aedan. Please wake up." This time his eyelids flickered and his hand closed convulsively as if reaching for something, or someone.
She took his hand in hers and gave him a reassuring squeeze as he blinked, finally managing to keep his eyes open, though they were unfocused and clouded with pain. Zevran handed her the small vial and she cupped the back of Aedan's head, helping him into a more upright position so that he could drink. When he'd emptied the vial, she gently laid him back, watching his eyelids close once more. Emma looked at Zevran, worried at Aedan's quick slide back into unconsciousness.
"It's all right, he's just sleeping. See? His breathing is already easier."
She dropped her eyes to Aedan's chest and confirmed the truth for herself. Zevran drew closer to the body and laid a green-brown lump of something over the wound. "What's that?" She didn't want to be impolite, but it looked like one of Jess's hairballs.
"It's a poultice to draw the poison from the wound before Wynne heals it." Emma eyed the weird blob and, for the first time since arriving in Thedas, sincerely wished they were back in her world so she could get Aedan to a hospital.
"We'll check the wound in a few hours and see if another poultice is needed," Zevran said. "In the meantime, there's nothing else we can do."
Emma crossed her legs, settling herself in for the night.
Wynne patted Emma's shoulder. "You should get something to eat,"
Emma shrugged. "I'm not hungry, maybe later." She removed the cloth from Aedan's forehead, wet it, folded it, and put it back in place.
"We'll be back soon," Zevran told her in a hushed voice. She glanced up, saw a flare of pity in his eyes and looked away, unable to deal with that emotion as it suggested Aedan wouldn't make it, which was unacceptable. She shivered at the thought of losing him, her friend and lover; she couldn't even conceive what life would be like without him. No! She wouldn't think of that; he was going to make it. She took hold of his hand, linking their fingers together, the gesture bringing her as much comfort as she hoped it brought him.
The night seemed to last forever, Emma watching Aedan alternately shiver and sweat as he tossed restlessly. At some point, Zevran had replaced the poultice and brought her something to eat. He'd returned in the early hours of the morning to change the dressing again, his eyes sliding to the untouched plate of food. "You should get some sleep, Emma." She nodded listlessly, without looking away from Aedan. "Why don't you rest in my tent and I'll watch him for a while. He'd be annoyed if he knew you were neglecting yourself."
She raised her eyes and pasted a smile on her face. "It's okay, he should wake up soon," she croaked, her voice rough with exhaustion and distress. Zevran sighed in a frustrated manner, shaking his head as he left the tent.
