There and Back Again Ch. 027-028

Over the course of a week, we seemed to be traveling progressively downhill, and the ground became swampier, requiring us to divert a few times as we came upon ponds of green, thick sludge that no one trusted to walk through. The walking was tough, but the nights were worse. Everyone was jumpy, expecting darkspawn to attack at any point; no one talked much, and even Leliana didn't sing. Aedan didn't want us making campfires unless we could be sure they were well-hidden, so we ate dried bread and jerky, relying on Wynne's magic to heat water for tea and porridge.

The only thing to lighten everyone's mood was the playful banter that still went on between Aedan and Alistair. The two men bickered like brothers, and it was hilarious to listen to. On about the third day into the swamp, Alistair began questioning Aedan's directions. He claimed to have seen the same tree before, accusing Aedan of leading us in circles. I could see he wasn't serious, just enjoying getting a rise out of Aedan; Wynne, Leliana and I chuckled together as we followed behind the two Grey Wardens.

When the first darkspawn ambush came, we were completely prepared. We fought off a large group without too much trouble - I almost laughed as I saw Shale launch a genlock into a group of archers instead of the boulders she normally threw. I stayed out of the fighting completely, earning a smile from Wynne. Afterwards, Aedan and Zevran were wandering through the darkspawn corpses making sure they were all truly dead, slitting a throat here or there for good measure. All of a sudden there was a high-pitched sound, and black shadows jumped out from nowhere. Shrieks - nasty, stealthy, sharp - darkspawn equivalents of Aedan. Great.

We were caught unawares, everyone's defenses down because we thought the fight was over, and I guessed that the Grey Wardens' senses were overwhelmed by the corpses around us. A long, black claw flickered faster than I could watch, and Zevran let out a scream and went down, hands cupping a bloody facial wound. Aedan recovered and threw a blade, which pierced through the shriek's arm, and followed it up with a slash and stab that dropped the amorphous shadow to the ground. Alistair took down another with his shield, and Sten shattered one that Morrigan had frozen solid. Panting, we were finally safe, and Aedan, Wynne and I rushed to Zevran's side.

He was alive, though extremely bloody, and had a gash running from his forehead, barely skipping his eye, continuing down his cheek and then deeply into the flesh of his right pectoral. He was awake, and kept trying to talk, while Aedan shushed him and I pulled out the bottle of strong alcohol we all kept for such occasions.

"Sorry Zev," I muttered, and Aedan put the handle of his dagger between Zevran's teeth. I poured the alcohol carefully into the long wound track, especially into the deeper part on his chest, while Wynne held the gaping edges apart to allow it to do its work. Zevran screamed, the sound louder and more painful than the shrieks, and I shuddered but kept pouring. He finally passed out, and I had to wonder how much pain would be required to make a Crow pass out. We all took a deep breath of relief as we finished. Wynne probed the wound with a finger, making sure nothing was left inside, and then started chanting.

Watching healing still fascinated me. The skin knit together - by magic! - looking like someone had hit the slow rewind button on a DVD recording of the initial injury. By the time she'd healed together his chest, she was panting and pale. I forestalled her next attempt on his face, and pulled out a poultice, carefully applying the red liquid to the skin itself in the deeper sections, dabbing at it with a linen cloth in the shallower parts. The laceration closed, but left a pale scar across his forehead and cheek. Wynne allowed herself to be led away by Leliana, and Aedan and I were left sitting beside the former Crow, each of us gripping one of his hands.

Aedan's face was tender, and I tried not to stare. I had wondered what was going on between the two rogues, but seeing that soft, wistful look on my brother's face, I knew: what had been happening was that Aedan was falling in love. I wondered if he knew. I hoped Zevran would wake and see his face like this - I didn't think he'd believe it otherwise. I glanced around, checking that no one else was looking; I knew Aedan wouldn't want to be seen being vulnerable. Alistair was shooting glances at me, but everyone else was busy; Wynne was resting against a boulder, eyes closed. I rolled my eyes at Alistair, and he flushed slightly, returning to repacking his gear. After a few minutes, Zevran stirred. I met Aedan's gaze to ensure he was okay, and then left them to have some alone time.

I vaguely contemplated cuffing Alistair on the back of the head for the looks he'd been giving me, but managed to resist. Probably thinks I'm worried about having a threesome later. I checked on Wynne, who claimed to be feeling well. I dug through my pack until I found some not completely rock hard bread and some jerky - God I was getting sick of jerky - and distributed it to the rest of the group who were scavenging usable items off the dead darkspawn. Zev was awake by the time I made it back to him and Aedan, and he accepted a double portion as his stomach growled loudly.

"Thank you, Sierra."

"Huh? For what, Zev?"

"Aiding me with my injury. I hear you were the unfortunate soul to pour the alcohol into the wound."

"Well, honestly I'd do that for anyone, but you're welcome. And you know, sorry about that."

"It had to be done. Sadly I hear I am left disfigured."

I laughed. "Don't worry Zevran. Chicks dig scars."

His confused expression set me giggling, and I decided not to explain. I offered him the tiny compact I carried so he could examine himself in the mirror. He tsk'd at the image, but didn't seem too concerned. Maybe Aedan told him scars were sexy. I giggled again and then offered a hand to haul the elf up. We got ready to keep traveling.

When we camped that night, we decided that Morrigan should go no further towards Flemeth's. If Aedan was correct, we were three days from her hut, and we worried that she'd be aware of our approach. We also decided - and I agreed - that I should stay with her. Flemeth didn't know about me, and keeping my existence a secret could eventually grant us an unforeseen advantage. That said, I was disappointed not to go - I wanted to see her, silly as that was, but I also hoped she'd know something about who I was or how I'd gotten to Thedas. I convinced Aedan that they had to carry my spare armour and as much of the rest of my stuff as I could live without, in case I disappeared and reappeared with them.

Morrigan and I were to circle around north and meet them on the opposite side of Ostagar, closer to where Bodahn should be waiting. Six days alone with Morrigan. What was I thinking? I should have stayed with the wagon. I was seriously concerned about my ability to stay in Thedas for six more days, when I realised I'd already been in Thedas for twenty consecutive days. My new record. It occurred to me that the times I spent in Thedas had been getting longer, while the returns to Earth had been getting shorter; I wondered what that meant. I had to admit that it didn't bother me as I thought it should.

Morrigan and I walked mostly in silence. I had a light pack to carry, but as I'd sent most of my stuff with Aedan it wasn't too cumbersome. Morrigan didn't want to fly lest Flemeth recognise her bird form, so she stayed on the ground. I was glad - even as poor company as Morrigan could be at times, it was better than walking alone. I worried we would run into another band of darkspawn, but she thought she could navigate us around them when there weren't two Tainted Grey Wardens with us to draw their attention.

We made good time and even Morrigan was pleased - she thought we would end up at our rendezvous point in four days, not six. I was somewhat irritated that she had thought I would slow her that much, but had to admit she wasn't without reason. Feeble. I hated it. I was happy to prove her wrong.

Every discussion I managed to pull Morrigan into felt like a victory. We talked about nothing important, but even getting her to comment on the weather (cold and damp, but not raining, fortunately) was a major effort most of the time. I asked if she had any way of telling where in the Wilds Fergus Cousland might have been - I recalled that he was nursed back to health by some of the Chasind - but she indicated there were dozens of tribes that moved around, and literally hundreds of hidden campsites where they could be at any given point. I gave up on my thought of finding Fergus with a sigh. I knew he'd come to Denerim once he was able.

The four days passed reasonably well; setting up camp and having to wait around for two more was torture. I was worried about the rest of the group, awkward with the long silences between Morrigan and I, and constantly expecting to disappear and get dragged back to Earth. Traveling light meant I shared a tent with Morrigan, and somehow even though one of us was awake on watch at all times, being in the same tent allowed me to sleep.

I tried practicing my templar abilities, but it was difficult without Wynne to practice on and Alistair to guide me. I didn't want to ask Morrigan for help - she wasn't the trusting type - but after a while she came over and offered to at least visualise spells and hold the mana so I could practice seeing it. It was interesting, I realised - the magic looked different when she used it than when Wynne did. I wondered if each mage was different, or if it was the difference between a Circle mage and an apostate. Or a healer compared to a shapechanger. I'd have to ask Alistair. And pay more attention next time we ran into an Emissary.

By the evening of the sixth day, when they hadn't showed up, I had to concentrate to avoid panicking. I was almost starting to hope I'd disappear and reappear with them, just so I'd know that Aedan and Alistair were safe. Morrigan scoffed at me, reminding me the six days hadn't accounted for time to chat and fight with Flemeth or rest afterwards. It didn't help. Morrigan offered to take first watch, but I knew I wouldn't sleep anyway so I waved her off. I stayed up, by the fire, and for the first time wished I knew how to knit. Or whittle. Anything to keep my hands busy! At home I would doodle while thinking; I kept a notepad in virtually every drawer with a million different pens so I could doodle whenever I needed. With paper the way it was here...I was going to need something else.

I traded watch with Morrigan sometime in the night and settled down to try to get some sleep. Every time I managed to doze off, I was assailed by images - Aedan and Alistair, dead or maimed; me, alone, in Thedas, forever. Because that would just be my luck - the minute they die is the minute I'll finally be stuck in Thedas permanently. I kept waking, gasping and shivering, and finally gave it up as a bad job. I crawled back out of the tent well before dawn. To Morrigan's credit, she didn't say a word, just sat beside me, shoulder-to-shoulder, and let me brood. She may not have understood why I was the way I was, but she was prepared to support me anyway. I contemplated hugging her. I didn't.