Into the Woods (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

If I Turn You Away

Zevran, peering out from the tent where he stood vigilant over the two wounded men, could see what Jennie had already noted—that Flemeth the dragon was winning as the fighters tired. He despaired, knowing that there was little he could do one way or the other. Perhaps if the mage, either of the mages, were there, they could add their skills to the fight. They weren't really needed for healing—magic had already done as much as it could for Wulfric. His body had to heal the damaged ribs the rest of the way. And Varric's injuries were beyond the aid of magic. Zev had realized the extent with a sinking heart after he had dragged Varric into the tent and had a chance to look at what the acid had done to the dwarf's face. The hands would heal; Zev had found a salve that would counteract the acid burns and help restore movement and utility to the dwarf's hands and fingers. But his face—those all-seeing eyes appeared to be permanently blinded, if Zev was any judge of such things. He dreaded having to break that news to the valiant, brash dwarf who had somehow become so important to Zev over the course of their travels.

"Flash." The dwarf's voice was a harsh croak.

"You spoke?"

"Don't sugar-coat it."

"What is it they say, a teaspoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down?" Where he had dredged that one up from, Zev wasn't certain, but it sounded good.

Wulfric, restlessly peering below the edge of the tent, snorted at that. "That's not how you used to help the medicine go down in my day."

Zev shrugged. "Things change."

"Apparently." Wulfric winced at something he saw. "That's it. I'm not sitting here any longer letting other people fight my battles. I killed that dragon once; I can do it again." He cast a sidelong glance Zev's way. "And if you remind me that I was younger then, I'll—"

"No need. You will do yourself more harm than good sitting here and watching, I know. If I believed in the Maker, I would ask him to watch over you."

Wulfric huffed a humorless laugh. "Ditto." He didn't bother with armor; still clad in his loincloth, he caught up a strange oblong of carved wood, about four feet long, and a bundle of spears. Seeing those in the corner, Zev had wondered about them, but there hadn't seemed to be a good time to ask. Now at least he would get to see the strange equipment in action.

Once Wulfric had gone, there was silence in the tent, until Varric spoke again, the effort clearly painful for him. "You can go, too. Nothing to do here but babysit a blind dwarf."

"If I thought I could be of assistance, I would do so, my friend. But there is little I can do against a dragon that is not already being done. Best to keep myself—and you—in reserve. We will sell our lives dearly should it come to that, eh?"

Varric's hands moved, clutching a phantom Bianca. "Is it that bad?"

Zev's silence appeared to answer the question; he could not seem to find the right words.

The dwarf had no trouble doing so, however. "Damn that Blondie. He's not out there, is he?"

"No. Perhaps he has found Oghren and is helping with the boy?"

"Maybe," Varric muttered, but sounded unconvinced.

"If I knew how to call them, I would find one of those swift steeds and ride for the Driazi camp. Hawke's sister could be of great use to us, as I imagine the Driazi themselves would," Zev said, almost to himself, as he watched the battle. Everyone outside the tent appeared to be moving underwater—the weariness in them was almost palpable.

"I know the call."

"What?" Zev turned from the open flap to find Varric looking at him with a hint of his old cockiness.