Blood Wound Chapter 28

[miri1984]

Title: Feels weird when he does that...
Characters: Alim, Anders, Nathaniel, Justice, Random Darkspawn, Lamppost in Winter
Summary: Amaranthine under attack.
TITLE ART BY THE DELECTABLE cave_fatuam 

"Velanna isn't happy," Nathaniel's voice was mild.

"I don't think she's capable," Alim said. They walked as briskly as they could. "In any case I'm doing her a favour. You know what the joining ritual does. She doesn't. I somehow doubt making her a warden would improve her temper."

Nathaniel shrugged as he fingered the string on his bow, eyes moving from left to right constantly, always on the look out. He was an excellent rogue - far more useful in many ways than Zevran had been. Zevran had been used to working on his own until the last minute - fighting in a team had taken a lot of adjusting, fighting large numbers even more. Nathaniel had been trained for war.

Alim started wondering if he could conscript a few more nobles. He doubted they'd be too happy about it. He had to repress a grin at the thought.

"Leaving Oghren in charge may have been a mistake," Nathaniel was saying.

"He's sober."

"Today he's sober," Anders muttered from behind Nathaniel. Alim shot him a glare.

"And experienced. Which is more than I can say for the others…"

"Sigrun could have done it," Nathaniel said.

Alim shook his head. "I adore Sigrun beyond all reason, Ser Howe, but she's still suspiciously keen on the whole "dying alone and forgotten" aspect of her legion training. I don't particularly want her to choose to do it in the middle of defending the keep."

Nathaniel shrugged. "In my experience it's not a good idea to trust a drunk with command."

"Oghren isn't your brother," Alim snapped. "And I don't like it when you dispute my command decisions."

The archer fixed him with a grey gaze for a moment. Alim simply looked back, until the older man ducked his head. "You're right. I... apologise."

Alim twitched an eyebrow. There was still something satisfying about being deferred to by a noble. It would be nice if some of the councillors from Denerim were around so he could rub their noses in it.

"In any case, Voldrik assures me the walls will hold, we've got enough men and there's nothing we can do about it right now so I suggest you concentrate on the job I've given you rather than the ones I've given to other people."

Nathaniel shot him an amused look and Alim resisted the urge to growl at him. He was tense, there was no denying it. There were darkspawn all around, in large numbers, none close enough to engage, but enough that he knew when the time came the battle would not be easy.

There were Ogres. Of that he was certain. Funny how even now his warden senses were improving - he'd never been able to tell what types of darkspawn were ahead of him before, but the pull of his blood was becoming more sensitive all the time.

The darkspawn trail was easy enough to follow. They burned things, in their wake, and tainted the ground with their blood and ichor. Every now and then Alim spied a corpse - taken down by enthusiastic peasants (one had a pitchfork shoved through its chest) but the people didn't know enough to burn them when they fell, or didn't have the time, more like, and the ground around was turning black rapidly. Alim wondered how many of his people had been tainted, how many would die, or spread the taint to others. His hands twitched.

"Anders we're going to have our work cut out for us in the next few weeks," he said absently.

Anders nodded, brow furrowed. "The taint is communicable," he said softly. "We're going to have to isolate these people. Full quarantine for the city. It's not going to be pretty, especially given the state of the farms…"

Alim gave a soft smile. "And you say you'll be no good at leading."

Anders bared his teeth at him. "Medical procedures, Commander. I'm a trained healer, not a diplomat. Do you really want me negotiating with the local Chantry about the tithes they use to pay their mage-jailors?"

"Maker preserve us," Alim intoned. Anders made a face at him.

"Ware!" Nathaniel interrupted. "Darkspawn ahead."

Justice was already striding forward, his black armour gleaming in the setting sun. Alim nodded and let Spellweaver and the staff fall into each hand, ready for attack as a group of genlocks lumbered towards them, snarling and spitting at the wardens. Justice cleaved one in two with his sword and bashed another to the ground with his shield before calling forth fade energy and flickering into insubstantiality.

Alim caught Anders shudder and looked at him curiously. The other mage shrugged. "Feels weird when he does that."

He supposed Anders was right, although the closeness of darkspawn scratching and screeching across his nerves pushed strange-fade-warrior-stuff into the background for him. "On your left," he said, nodding towards the first cluster of farms before the city gates, and Anders turned and blasted lightning in one fluid motion, burning the two hurlocks to a crisp and setting fingers of light dancing across a hoe left carelessly on the ground. A quick telekenesis spell lifted the fork and plunged it into the chest of a third hurlock who spouted black ichor from its throat and collapsed. Alim turned back to where Justice was giving a good account of himself against a group of four genlocks, a familiar thud of heavy footsteps making him grit his teeth.

He had been right. There were ogres.

Also, emissaries. One particular emissary who was holding the most fabulous thing Alim had ever seen.

At first he thought it was just a stick, the way most darkspawn emissary staves were just sticks, sometimes with a few charms wrapped around them, but essentially, long bits of wood that tended to disintegrate after the first few spells you cast, especially if they were of any strength.

No simple stick had curves like that.

When the emissary fell to one of Justice's sword thrusts Alim knelt beside its body and reached out a tentative hand to the staff. It seemed to leap into his hand with a crackle of ice and frost and he let a happy sigh escape him as he ran greedy fingers over it's length.

"What is the Commander doing?" he heard Justice's voice, but didn't pay attention to it. Anders chuckled.

"I think he might be in love."

"With a staff? That does not seem logical."

"We're very attached to our staffs. It's a mage thing."

"He spent a great deal of coin on the one that is now lying underneath the dead ogre."

"Well how about you help me shift the ogre and I'll… ah… look after it for him? He wouldn't want to lose it, I'm sure."

"Of course, mage. How shall you carry two?"

"Oh, I'll manage, don't worry. Never hurts to have more than one, you know, not with Templars about…"

"One day you will not have to worry about Templars."

"Ha bloody ha, Justice. I never knew they had comedy in the fade."

"I was not joking."

"Commander?" Nathaniel's hand on his shoulder finally brought him back to himself and he stood. "That looks… interesting."

He grinned. "Colder than a frozen lamppost." His grin turned into a chuckle, thinking of Alistair. He hefted the staff in one hand before settling it in the sling at his back, feeling the cold radiating from it like the touch of his old friend.

"A what?"

"Never mind."

The city could be saved. The city would be saved, no matter what Nathaniel said. So what if they had to be confined and dying of the taint for months… there was a chance, a chance that some of them could live and no matter how much he wished he never had to see that creeping corruption again, they did their damndest to make sure every hint of darkspawn, every speck of the taint was burnt to ash and dust when they went through the city. He would not have his city be burnt to the ground because he wasn't strong enough to protect them. He would save them…

"Dal soffio di Dio si è troppo bello per essere vero."

"No," his voice came out huffed as he killed another hurlock. "You are too good to be true…"

"What is it that you say, Commander?" Justice never sounded out of breath. He supposed that was because there was no breath to be had.

"Nothing, Justice."

When they were done, when all the darkspawn lay dead and he'd set what remained of the city guard to carefully collecting and burning the corpses, he leaned on Lamppost and surveyed the damage.

"Could be worse," Anders said.

Alim nodded. "Not much, but yes. At least there were some people with sense directing things." Delilah, Nathaniel's sister, and her husband, had spent a great deal of effort making sure the civilian populace were safe and out of the way in one of the noble houses. He had time to thank the paranoia of this particular noble, who had high walls and solid oak gates, and also the persistence of Delilah, who had shouted and railed and threatened at said gates until the nobleman had been shamed into opening them. Thanks to her quick thinking, none of those with her had become tainted. He had a bad feeling about some of the city guard, however, but there was always the joining for those men and women - they needed to bolster their numbers in any case.

"I suppose you want Spellfury back now," Anders said.

Alim shook his head. "Keep it," he said. "You seem to be able to make it work better than I can." He patted Lamppost fondly. "And it looks like I'm all staffed."

Anders rolled his eyes. "Well, you certainly won't be mistaken for anything but a mage with that on your back," he said. "At least Spellfury is slightly less conspicuous."

"I'm not too fussed about being incognito, Anders," Alim said, but he was distracted by a tingling feeling and he swore suddenly. "I thought we'd gotten rid of them…" He spun on his heel to see another of the talking darkspawn approaching and he lifted Lamppost, intending to shoot the thing into pieces.

The pathetic thing threw up its hands and cowered. "Please not to be killing me! I am a messenger!"

Alim paused, but didn't lower his staff. Behind him he heard the chime of Justice drawing his sword and sensed Nathaniel cocking and drawing an arrow. "Really? What's the message?"

A chance to end this, he hoped. I have things to do.