There and Back Again Ch. 025-026

Chapter Twenty-Five: Deals and Dragons

That became the new pattern for us for a couple of days. Walk until almost supper, spar with Aedan -- badly -- and then work on meditation with Alistair. I'd gotten to the point where, when necessary, I could ignore the movements, shouts, pokes, and tickles of those around me, and maintain my focus regardless. One evening, still sitting with my eyes closed, but having decided I was done for the night, I suddenly could feel eyes on me. I waited, listening and feeling, trying to determine if it was hostile or not. Near me I could hear only Alistair's soft breathing as he too meditated; further away I could hear talking and laughing, and was able to account for the whereabouts of Wynne, Leliana, Sten, Shale, Aedan, Prince, and Morrigan. Zevran then. I tensed, suddenly vaguely worried that while the assassin would develop respect and friendship with the rest of the group, that he saw me as a threat. I heard the softest whisper of leather sliding against leather behind me, and realised he was closer than I thought.

I broke the silence. "Hey, Zev. How's it going?" I heard Alistair jump and curse, and opened my eyes, turning to see Zev standing less than two feet away. His hands were empty, though I knew that meant nothing, but the expression on his face was mischievous, not malicious, and I relaxed. "Let me guess. You were going to help me learn to focus by blowing in my ear or something as a distraction."

The redness in his cheeks demonstrated the truth to my guess, and I grinned. Alistair grumbled and walked away towards our firepit.

"Well, bella donna, I am glad to see that with all this...focusing...you are doing, you still pay attention to your surroundings. I am here to watch everyone's backs, but it will make it that much easier if you are also watching your own."

"Thanks Zev," I replied drily. "I'm so relieved to hear about your concern for my safety."

"You wound me, cara mia. And here you told Aedan that you trust me."

"Just because I trust you, amico mio, does not mean I stop 'paying attention'." He smiled proudly. "And by the way, you can quit with the Antivan endearments. I don't speak Antivan other than the bits you taught me, but I'm familiar with your seductive side, sweet pea. Save that for someone who doesn't know you better than you know yourself. And Wynne, because secretly she likes it."

"My heart cannot take it, my lady. It bleeds for-"

"Can it Zev. Hey, wait. I'll make you a deal."

"Oh? Now this I must hear."

"How's this. You agree not to try to seduce me, flatter me needlessly, or in any other fashion try to wiggle your way into my small clothes, for...let's say one month. Get to know me, a little, without innuendo thrown in. At the end of that time, if you still wish to lay with me, you tell me and I will explain why I don't think we should ever be together. After that I promise to be open-minded and give you a fair chance to change my mind. But if you break this agreement, if you try to charm your way into my tent before then, the deal's off. I will never sleep with you, nor will I tell you why. Do we have a deal?"

He thought for a moment. "One stipulation: if you come to me during that month, the deal still stands."

"Agreed." We actually shook hands, solemnly, and the odd look on his face cracked me up. It seemed he didn't know what to talk to me about without sexual innuendo as an icebreaker. I giggled and left him there, sitting down near Aedan by the fire.

In our tent, later, Aedan whispered conspiratorially. "What was that tonight with Zevran?"

I told him our agreement, and Aedan peered closely at the smug grin on my face.

"You wouldn't be planning to mess with the emotions of one of our companions, would you, sweet sister? I know damn well you'll never change your mind, and I know why. Why the tease?"

"I'm not messing with him. Not detrimentally, at least, I promise. Actually, I'm hoping it will prevent any weirdness later. Zev is equal opportunity when it comes to the gender of his lovers, but he has that typical male weakness for damsels in distress. I'm trying to make sure he doesn't see me as a damsel. I'm hoping that a month of not thinking about me and sex in the same sentence means he'll become your problem, or Morrigan's or Leli's. Not mine." Aedan laughed, but I saw something dark pass over his eyes as he considered Zev being his problem. I reached out and squeezed his hand.

"You're thinking of Rory." He hesitated briefly, then nodded miserably. "It's maybe too soon, honey, but...eventually, you need to consider letting yourself off the hook for that, Aedan. He gave his life to protect you, so you could live, not be a broken shell who never loves again. He would not want you to be alone forever, to live your life lonely. Don't make a farce of his sacrifice."

Unable to speak, he had one tear leaking down his cheek, and I squeezed his hands softly. He gripped my hands with all his strength, nodded, and then curled up on his bedroll. I didn't let go of his hand until it was my turn to stand watch. I kissed his head softly before crawling out of the tent to sit quietly by the fire. Alistair gave me a look I couldn't interpret as I emerged, but simply stumbled off to his own tent to sleep.

A couple more days of walking put us just outside of Haven, according to Duncan's map. The road we had been following was little more than a dirt game trail, and had gradually become snowier as we approached, and I wondered how the Brother had found it. We decided to call it an early night and camp, rather than wander into Haven just before dark. We spent a bit of time huddled around the fire going over my notes - the layout of the town, the merchant with a dead Redcliffe knight in the back room, the location of the Chantry up the hill, Father Eirik. Then the temple full of insane cultists, ash wraiths, and dragonlings. And then, of course, the High Dragon. Sten admitted to knowing how to skin a drake to obtain scales, and I briefly grinned as I wondered when we'd finally get to meet Wade and Herren.

Aedan and Alistair wanted to leave me behind at the entrance to the temple with Brother Genitivi, but I was nervous about disappearing and finding myself lost or separated from them. We decided not to decide until we got there. Because of the earlier night, I was able to start sparring with Aedan earlier than normal, though the snow gave me some difficulty. After a few minutes, Zevran stepped up, pausing us for a moment.

"You do this so you can learn the art, yes?" I nodded. "Would you allow me to offer some suggestions then?" I nodded again, and his posture changed from the arrogant swagger I was used to, to a purely professional one. He stepped up behind me, and I realised he wasn't quite as short as I'd predicted - he was maybe an inch taller than me. His height was perfect for what he was about to do. And I was impressed - he stopped, perhaps half an inch between our bodies, as if waiting for permission to touch me. I rolled my eyes, huffing impatiently. He chuckled and closed the distance, hands reaching out to grasp my forearms, hips against mine.

"First you need to learn how to move like a dancer. Close your eyes, and feel the movement." I complied, and despite the intimacy of his touch, I was able to immediately feel the difference between how I was holding myself and how he wanted me to. I adjusted, and realised it changed my centre of gravity so I felt more stable on my feet.

He was almost whispering in my ear, and it must have looked very intimate, though I noted he was careful to stick to the letter of our agreement - he did not use Antivan, did not use endearments, and kept his language completely neutral - while completely violating the spirit of it. His hands caressed my arms more sensuously than they needed to, his hips clung to mine more firmly, which pressed a bulge beneath his leathers into the curve of my ass. I had been expecting this, and chuckled darkly; I ignored his intended temptation, and just tried to learn from him. Even unconsciously, with his mind on a very different prize, I knew his stance and footwork would be without reproach.

When it seemed he was done teaching, I decided that two could play his game: I 'accidentally' ground my ass into his groin, enough to feel him twitch slightly, at the same time as twisting to thank him, and rubbing my breasts over the inside of his arm. Smirking at his slight intake of breath, I straightened, tossed my pretend daggers into the woodpile, and then took Aedan's arm and walked away. It's going to take more than demonstrating the existence of a penis to get to me, buddy. Aedan rolled his eyes at me, and I smirked.

We ate together, as usual, and I was thankful for the stew we were eating -- it was getting cold. Supper times were some of my favourites, sitting around the campfire listening to my companions laugh and tease each other and tell stories, though I noticed Alistair was unusually quiet that night. I didn't think much of it, distracted by Wynne trying, unsuccessfully, to rid herself of an amorous elf. I swear I'm going to end up with an aneurysm trying not to laugh when I overhear companion chatter!

After supper, Alistair had recruited Wynne for further templar training. He had her casting very small, useless spells, like the balls of fire Tanar had used, and just wanted to see how well I could sense them. We warned Wynne to use the minimum possible mana and snuff the spell if anything happened, asking the rest of the group to try not to startle me. As we'd realised previously, my ability to detect the use of magic in my vicinity was much greater than Alistair's, and we spent some time discussing the differences in what we experienced. I was able to accurately describe Wynne's visualised spells before she actually cast them, but only when she did go ahead and cast it. Apparently just imagining it wasn't enough, there had to be intent. When I described what I could see, Alistair was also able to see it, as though there was a blindfold that I was holding back. It was odd.

When Alistair had me close my eyes and focus, like he'd been teaching me, I thought I could actually see, in my mind, the flow of mana into the spell. Following that back, I could see it surrounding Wynne, even when she wasn't casting. Once, anyway - I was so surprised I lost my concentration and couldn't get it back, much to the mage's amusement. Maybe I can learn to be a templar some day!

Sleep was elusive for most of us, with the spectres of a crazy cult and a high dragon hanging over us as they did. I spent half the night sitting up at the campfire, and it seemed that so did everyone else in turns.

Haven turned out to be just as creepy as advertised, and wasn't even much bigger than in the game. There were very few people about, other than a surly guard who tried to bar us entrance to the town, and seemed quite unimpressed when Aedan just ignored him and we entered anyway. We went to the merchant to ask a few questions, discovered the body, and had to kill the merchant. The smell of death in the little house was overpowering, and I stumbled outside, retching, while the rest of the group searched for supplies. I really hate being a wuss. Zevran had followed, curiously, but stayed at a distance while I vomited. I briefly wondered what he thought about my evident weakness, but decided not to ask.

It occurred to me at some point that I had no idea how much coin we had now, or whether I should keep trying to bring handfuls over when I popped back and forth, and resolved to ask Aedan later. Thinking about other things, especially things which didn't involve blood or gore, helped and I was able to pull myself together by the time everyone else left the building.

After they emerged, Leliana showing off some new arrows they had found, we avoided the rest of the townspeople we saw and headed straight for the Chantry. To everyone's relief, the vast majority of the populace fled when we entered, and we only had to kill a few of the reavers and of course Father Eirik. I still threw up after, or dry heaved anyway, since my stomach was empty, and saw Zevran eyeing me oddly. Whatever. Brother Genitivi had been tortured, but was alive, and in mostly okay shape. Wynne cast a couple of spells for healing and rejuvenation, and he was quite energetic after that. He agreed to lead us up the mountain to the temple he had learned about, but instead of one short loading screen, it took half a day of hiking, all uphill, and all cold. Aedan had liberated some warm clothing from the merchant, and between those and my cloak I wasn't in too bad shape, but I was still wishing earnestly for a warm fire.

Zevran walked with me as we climbed.

"Sierra? Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine, Zev. Why?"

"You..." he mimed gagging. "I thought perhaps you were suffering an illness."

"No, no. I'm fine."

"Perhaps you are with child? Some of the whores where I was raised would become very ill at certain smells..."

"I'm not pregnant!" I gave the assassin a dirty look. "I just don't like killing. Blood. Violence."

"You think we were wrong to kill those men?"

"No, Zev. It was necessary. But necessary doesn't mean it isn't regrettable. Or disgusting. I just wish there was another way."

"Such as...?" He truly looked confused.

I sighed. "I just wish it wasn't necessary. That people weren't evil, that everyone could get along."

"You are...very strange, Sierra."

"You have no idea, amico mio. None at all."

It was a little bit warmer once inside the temple, despite the cave-ins and snowdrifts. I was feeling quite freaked out, for some reason, and almost hyperventilated when Aedan again tried to convince me to stay at the entrance with Brother Genitivi. The sheer panic on my face must finally have won, and he agreed to bring me with them. I was happy to promise to stay back when they entered each room; I had no desire to take part in violently ending this cult's existence, no matter how necessary. And I figured there was only so many times I'd be able to throw up before I injured myself...no, staying back won't be a problem. Aedan instructed Prince to stay near me and guard me, which he woofed at and moved to stand by me.

The map of the temple that I carried in my head was nothing like the map from the game, so the group had to basically randomly clear hallways and rooms. I stayed well back, not looking at the gore, and when it couldn't be avoided I rushed through the rooms, climbing over broken furniture, trying to avoid stepping in blood puddles, with held breath and tunnel vision. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but see the odd amputated body part, or meet the unseeing gaze of a corpse. Shale continuously talked about squishing people and enjoying feeling their innards squirt out, I think just to bait me. I'd heard worse on the news back home - discussing it, even understanding it wasn't the problem. The problem was seeing it. Smelling it. Without that, I'd have been fine. So I ignored her, and eventually she quit.

The place smelled largely like shit, which with a few dozen, cooped-up crazy people wasn't all that surprising. It didn't entirely cover the coppery smell of blood from each room they cleared, however, and I was starting to desperately wish for a nose clip or something. I kept forgetting to breathe through my mouth, not that tasting it was much better.

We found the key to the locked room, and eventually the one that led to the main cultist hideout. The people were as crazy as you might believe wacked out, blood frenzied nut jobs could be, at least from the stuff I could hear them yelling down the hall. Aedan kept trying to talk them down, for which I was grateful, even if none of them ever took him up on it. Finally we reached the area where dragonlings started appearing, and we were back to being surrounded by the little lizards. I kept my daggers out and killed a couple, again watching with disgust as Sten just stomped them with his boots, and Shale started mimicking him. Prince largely chased them around, barking joyfully. Apparently dragonlings are amusing if you're a mabari. It was disgusting. The drakes were a new experience - I understood the theory behind breath weapons, but having one aimed at you is very different than the theory. I got burnt a couple of times, miraculously healed by Wynne each time, and came out of it unscathed with the exception of a bit of singed hair. I wondered what the doctors and nurses were making of burns that showed up for only moments then disappeared. I briefly prayed not to end up disappearing to go back home any time soon.

Sten skinning the drakes actually bothered me less than watching Leli or Aedan skin a rabbit - apparently, anything with fur is infinitely cuter and therefore more deserving of life - and soon we were the proud owners of six trimmed and cleaned drake scales. A few twisting hallways later and we found ourselves fighting Kolgrim and his pack of extra-nutty lunatics. I huddled in the back, trying to make myself a small target, until it was over. I was still struggling with guilt over my inability to help them, though I managed to keep my concerns to myself. Most of them seemed unbothered by it; Morrigan thought it was ridiculous, but felt since I wasn't much help anyway it didn't matter. Leliana, as usual, tried to shelter me from it and seemed to delight in my innocence. Zevran still looked confused, but refrained from comment. Everyone else just seemed to accept it as another eccentric part of my personality, like not wanting to know what sort of meat the jerky was made up of, and if anything, had seemed irritated by my apologies in the past.

We tried to creep across the mountaintop past the high dragon, but either the game lied about the ability to bypass that, or it didn't like the smell of someone from Earth, because the moment we went outside it flew down to land and attacked. The beast was majestic, I'd have to give it that. Probably eight feet tall at the shoulder, it was a deep purple on top, with a lighter, more red underbelly, and entirely covered in overlapping scale plates. The wind it stirred as it landed was intense, blowing snow and ice crystals into everyone's faces, and deafening us.

Alistair, Sten, and Shale took turns keeping its attention, while Leliana picked shots from a nearby boulder, Wynne healed, Morrigan kept blasting it with ice and something that must have weakened it, and the rogues and Prince darted under legs or over its tail, slashing with daggers and teeth. Its fire breath stank like brimstone, and every time it roared a small avalanche of snow and rocks started from one of the nearby cliffs. The air was frigid, and it seemed to amplify even the softest sounds, which caused echoes to ricochet through the mountain pass.

Personally, I was so scared, I sank to my knees just outside the door and stared. When the thing finally went down, it was like one of those slow-motion shots from the game - Alistair dropped his shield, leapt up and grabbed a horn at the back of its head, pulling himself up, and then drove his sword with both hands into the soft spot just behind the heavy scales protecting the brain. He tumbled down again, somehow unhurt, landing near me with a grunt.

Sten went to work again with the skinning, but Alistair, seeing my pale face, rushed over and sat me down, head between my knees, rubbing my back awkwardly with his heavy gauntlets.

"Sierra?" Aedan approached, dropping to his knees beside me and pulling me into an awkward hug.

"That was a dragon. A real fucking dragon."

Aedan chuckled drily. "You were the one who warned us, remember?"

"Yeah, but...you don't understand. Dragons don't exist. They can't. It's just not...it's not okay for there to be dragons." I was near hysteria, I realised. "I guess I thought they were joking. Exaggerating. Something."