peopleofthedas | Blood Wound Chapter 17

OMG THIS CHAPTER WANTED TO KILL ME.

Seriously, it took so long to write this. For me a chapter usually takes a day, maybe two? of concentrated writing. Obviously this is often split up over a week, considering my life is full of interruptions. But this one? Took me THREE WEEKS. Seriously. I wanted to kill something by the end of it.

AAAAANY WAY:

Title: Commoners have long memories...
Words: 1500
Rating: T+ for fighting
Characters: Alim, Anders, Justice, Nathaniel
Summary: The conspirators meet Justice... HAHA

It was nearly dark when Nathaniel returned. Anders and Justice were chatting quietly about something demon related, again and Alim was polishing Wintersbreath. He boiled with impatience, not only because of who or what might be at the farm.

The soft booted tread of the assassin alerted him - he knew the man could move silently when he wished. He turned to see Nathaniel, no weapons drawn, thank the Maker.

Alim still wasn't certain if the Howe still wanted him dead. He still wasn't certain if he wanted the Howe dead.

Yet, there was no denying he was useful. Now it was time to see if he was also trustworthy. "What did you discover?"

Nathaniel hunkered down, rubbing a hand across his forehead. "There are four sentries," he said. Alim waved Anders and Justice over, thinking suddenly that a circle mage and a fade spirit probably hadn't ever taken lessons in strategy. Justice's method in the fade had certainly consisted of "kick down the door, get attacked" as opposed to a considered tactical approach.

He remembered hasty conversations with Duncan on the way to Ostagar - rememberd Cailan's blissful ignorance and Loghain's obvious disapproval. Alistair had been surprisingly good at tactics in the end, although Teagan and Eamon…

He shook his head to clear it, remembering the crazed face of Cullen in the dungeons of the palace… Zevran bleeding in his arms as he desperately tried to heal him... Thinking about Eamon was never a good thing for him.

Strange that you turned to blood magic to help Anders and not him… the voice was insidious and Alim took a shaky breath.

I didn't have the book then, he thought furiously. And he'd had more confidence in Zevran's ability to come out of it. Anders had seemed… far more in danger of death.

Can you be certain of that? Or did you just want to do what you did?

Telling himself to shut up would almost certainly be the first sign of madness.

"So," Alim said. "Any chance we can get past them without being seen?"

Nathaniel shook his head, picking up a stick and drawing in the dirt. "The farm is surprisingly easy to defend," he said. "Makes you wonder how many commoners make their steadings with attack in mind."

"From the darkspawn," Justice boomed.

"There hasn't been a blight in five hundred years, Justice," Alim said.

"Commoners have long memories," Anders said softly. "You build your farm the way your parents did, and theirs before them." Alim cocked an eyebrow at the mage.

"Really?"

Anders nodded, then looked at Alim quizzically. "What? My parents were farmers."

"And here I thought you'd sprung fully formed and snarky from the earth, Anders."

The mage snorted.

Nathaniel ignored their exchange and pointed to several points on the crude map he'd created in the dirt. "Sentries here, here, here and here," he said.

Alim cocked his head on one side. "If we split up we can probably kill them at the same time," he says.

"That sort of timing is difficult, Commander," Nathaniel says.

"I can help with that," Anders said. Alim looked at him. "Remember the time in the Tower when Maggie and I did the trick with the steps and the ice?"

Alim laughed suddenly. "I always wondered how you managed to pull that off."

Anders grinned. Nathaniel looked puzzled. "Slow release spell," Anders said. "Anything you like. Electricity, nature, fire or ice. I'll set it to go off after a certain amount of time. When everyone feels it…" he made a stabbing motion with his hand.

"Creative," Nathaniel said.

"We'll have to wait until the conspirators are meeting," Alim said.

"Sundown tomorrow," Nathaniel said. "May as well stay camped here for the night then."

Alim clenched his fist. More time. Always more sodding time.

"Fine," he said.

Being still had never been his strong point. He was a fidgety child in the Tower, always getting into trouble for tapping things on his desk when he should have been listening. Zevran had despaired of ever teaching him to be stealthy. Alim had laughed at him and asked why he'd ever need to.

…It turned out he needed to in order to kill crow sentries.

Luckily for him (and for Anders as well, he suspected) they didn't need to be close to their targets in order to kill them. Nathaniel had delivered them all to the locations he deemed best. Anders had primed them all with the timed spell, although Justice had been highly suspicious of it. When he felt the tingle of lightning on his neck, he paralyzed the sentry and started to run, drawing his dagger, ready to slit the man's throat.

The limp body sank into the grass and Alim felt the tingle of magic in the blood that dripped down. He reached out a hand, almost tempted, almost to take the extra boost of power he could… but he pulled back his hand and shook his head, getting to his feet and hefting Wintersbreath. They weren't finished yet.

The fight was brutal and confusing. With the sentries down, the conspirators were easily picked off - noblemen and women who carried weapons but were not used to using them. Where were you when the horde attacked Denerim? Alim couldn't help thinking as he and Anders used a combination of spells to slaughter them. Sitting in your estates with your servants, no doubt. Waiting for the horde to come and slaughter you.

He laughed as they died.

The crows, and there was no doubt that they were crows - they even moved like Zevran and he felt it catch at his chest as one of them spun with twin daggers - were much harder to kill.

He was distracted, that was why he was caught, that's what he told himself. It wasn't because it was suddenly all too hard, it wasn't because part of him just wanted to surrender to the inevitable, and being killed by a crow would be part of the way towards letting a certain Antivan know how very, very angry he was…

"Stop!" the man's voice cut through the battle noises and magic and the two remaining crows stopped immediately, confusing Justice, who was suddenly faced with an opponent who was no longer fighting. That crow lived, by virtue of the spirit's sense of what was right, no doubt, although he was kneeling with the point of the spirit's sword pressed into the hollow of his throat…

The one fighting Nathaniel didn't live, and his gurgling cries as his throat were cut were suddenly the only sound in the cooling air.

The cool tip of a knife was pressed to Alim's throat. He was slightly surprised at how little fear he felt.

"Now, my friends," the crow said, and Alim was disappointed to note that his accent was straight Ferelden.

"Are you insane?" Anders said. "Everyone else is dead! Do you think you'll survive if you kill him?"

"You assume survival is a requirement of this mission," the crow said, and Alim's heart ached anew.

"You weren't meeting here to kill me," he said calmly. "You didn't know we were coming. You were meeting here to discuss terms. And payment."

"Shut up," the crow said. Alim allowed himself a smile.

"Do not be foolish, mortal," Justice said. "You throw your life away needlessly."

"I said shut up, or I will slice him in half."

"Do that and you'll be dead before he hits the ground," Nathaniel's voice was cold and gravelly, and Alim found it surprisingly reassuring.

"And yet my mission will be fulfilled," the crow said.

"You can go back to your master and tell him we killed your employers," Alim said. "There is no payment to be had here, Ser Crow. You know that."

"It's too late," the man hissed. "The contracts have been signed. If I go back now I will die."

"Then don't go back," Alim said. "There's no reason you need to stay with the Crows."

"They always find you," the Crow said.

Maker… "Not always," Alim whispered. Please let that be true.

The knife point pierced his skin, and the man chuckled. "They'll catch him, you know," he said, and Alim's heart leapt. "If they haven't already. You're being foolish if you think otherwise."

He's free. He's free and not dead and…

…still not here with me.

Alim caught Nathaniel's eyes. The rogue's hand was hovering around his midsection and Alim knew precisely what that meant. He wondered if the man was as good as he claimed. "If you're so keen to die," he said to the crow holding him, "do it."

Nate threw the dagger with deadly aim. Alim felt the splatter of blood - power that whispered to him - on his cheek as the grip on his neck loosened and the crow fell to the ground, dead, with Nate's dagger lodged in his eye. Alim nodded at Justice, who was still covering the remaining crow. "Restrain him and bring him with us," he said. "We'll need evidence of this for the King." Justice nodded and forced the man to his feet.

Conspiracy foiled.