Part 4

Blade of Mercy

Ava did not see Fenris again for months. She lost track of how many, but the rainy seasons was ebbing slowly to a close by the time Danarius had recovered himself enough to venture a journey to find his lost slave. Yes. Lost, not dead. Ava clung to those words every day. Her friend was out there, and he was free. Many times she thought of his escape plan. Of trying to implement it herself. She secreted a knife into a special pocket she had sewn on the inside of her dress, but she knew she could never slay a guard with it. She needed Fenris's blade.

He would never be coming back. If he had any sense he would have fled far and hidden well. Even with his distinctive markings he should be able to keep a low profile. Couldn't he? She had only known Fenris as a fellow slave. What was he like as a free elf? What was she?

As she continued the daily drudge of caring for her mistress Ava kept her ears open at all times. Apparently Danarius had been seriously injured by creatures called 'Fog Warriors' when he had visited an island. What was it, Seheron? He had fled, leaving Fenris behind. Every day, it seemed, he railed against this decisions. Fenris was his pride, his power, an example of what he had that no other could possess. Ava wondered how many magisters had tried the lyrium ritual on their own slaves and failed. How many lyrium scarred bodies were tossed into the gutter.

"You should have let me go with you," Hardriana insisted after another of Daraius's rants. "If there had been two of us those Fog Warriors would not have stood a chance.

"I hardly got out of there myself," Danarius grumbled. "The ship we fled on was crowded, if I had to leave Fenris, I would have had to leave you too."

"You would have...?" Hadriana looked aghast, stepping back slightly from her teacher.

"Fenris is my greatest creation. You are my best student. Don't you think I would have kept him or you if I was able? There was no time."

This seemed to settle Hadriana slightly, though her face was still bitter, her eyes still narrowed. Ava stood in the corner, awaiting orders. To be sent for tea or food. She kept her head down, her hands clasped demurely before her. She was certain that the humans had forgotten she was there. She was furniture. A fixture, not a person. This served her just fine. She might have smiled when she heard Danrius shift in his chair, trying to get comfortable, "never fear, Hadriana. When I go back to reclaim my lost wolf, I shall bring you along as well."

"Ah," the apprentice did not sound as excited as she had before. Ava suspected it was far easier to claim bravery over a situation that had long since resolved. "Very well," the woman agreed. The pair settled back in to their conversation and Ava zoned out of it. If her mistress sailed to Seheron she would certainly bring at least one slave. Ava chewed her lip. If Fenris had gotten free, perhaps she could as well. She thought of the others. Of little Ben. Of intelligent Sol. There was no way they would be allowed to come along. It hurt her to think of it, but a different part of her soared. Her soul had been given wings that rainy day in the courtyard, and it hadn't stopped flapping since.

Being on a ship was nothing like being in a carriage. Everything was always moving, but not with little bumps and jostles. Instead it was a constant sway, the smell of dead fish and live humans intermingling, it was almost too much for Ava. She had to keep herself together, however, because she was there to serve her mistress. Hadriana was a demanding woman indeed. Her water had to be fresh. If it had sat for more than a few hours it was to be thrown away. Ava usually just drank it herself, because she had once splashed a full cup over the side and received such glares from the sailors that she did not do so again. Fresh water was precious aboard.

Ava was interested to see that the ship was often hurried along its path by weather mages. This might have given her pause, but the mages here did not behave as magisters. They wore ordinary clothes and their staves were plain with simple crystals set in their tops. The mages didn't put on airs or belittle their fellows. Instead they worked at their craft with a kind of dignity Ava was not accustomed to. She could have watched them for hours. Some of them were even elves, and they mingled with their human counterparts easily.

One of the crew, a young man with long brown hair swept back in a braid, caught her staring. "Fereldan mages," he explained, understanding her confused scrutiny.

"Fereldan?" Ava cocked her head.

"Haven't you heard of Fereledan before?" the man raised an eyebrow.

Ava wanted to say 'I'm a slave' but decided against it. Instead she simply shook her head.

The man glanced around the deck to be certain he was not going to be scolded for laziness, then turned back to her. "Fereldan is a land to the south and east of here. They're colder there, but their mages and circles are very different. And their Divine is always female. Who ever heard of that?" he cocked an eyebrow.

Ava wasn't certain what he was talking about, but she too raised an eyebrow, in agreement. "What is Fereldan like?"

"I dunno. They love dogs, from what I hear. These mages, they came from a circle called Kinloch Hold. They say they like it better being aboard ship and all, but their circle wasn't so bad. They say some others are much worse. I've heard about the circles in Kirwall for example. Those are supposed to be rubbish." The sailor seemed to realize he was rambling and fell silent. The novelty of being spoken to so pleasantly by a human was not lost on Ava. She had noticed that the crew seemed less likely to treat her like a slave. She suspected there were even ex-slaves in their ranks.

She pondered the man's words. Dogs? What an odd thing for a nation to love, Ava thought, though she did not comment. Instead she asked, "they have elven mages. Is it like in Tevinter, where if a slave is found to have power and talent they are freed?"

"Slave? Fereldans don't keep no slaves," the man said, again making an expression which indicated he thought this notion too was crazy. "They're a different bunch, I can tell you. Sleep with their dogs and don't keep slaves. No wonder these mages were in a hurry to leave." He chuckled.

Ava thought she might sleep with a whole bed full of dogs if she could live in a place with no slavery. Was that even possible? Perhaps the sailor was having her on. Still, for the next several days at sea she could not get the idea out of her head, though the dog thing was still confusing.

Seheron was a jungle. Ava had never been in a jungle before. Never seen so many trees in one place and so close together. The air was thick and sweet smelling. It beaded moisture on her skin before she even had a chance to sweat. Her eyes were drawn to every brightly colored bird that cawed or crowed in the branches above. The place was perfect.

She had no idea why she liked it. The lack of walls? The fact that she was no longer aboard the ship? She might have knelt and kissed the pebbly sands of the beach. She wanted to touch every tree. To memorize the feel of each leaf and stone. This much wildness called to some part of her she didn't even know she had.

Only twenty of the men went with Danarius and Hadriana into the jungle. The ones that did were afraid. They slept little and spoke in low tones of the dangers all around them. Ava was certain, as they ventured deeper in, that this place was deadly. She saw a huge, green snake coiled around a thick branch just off the path. It watched her with placid eyes the color of blood droplets. She gave it a respectful nod, as she might another house slave of her rank. Better to treat these creatures as kin, she surmised, just in case they had some idea of what she was doing.

One night a huge, shadowy shape prowled too close to the camp. The men sprang up, spears and magics at the ready. Danarius and Hadriana's spells flew and soon the animal was felled. A cat, bigger than any that Ava had seen. She had known fat, overfed house pets, but never an animals so huge and sleek. She wished she knew a death prayer for it. It had not attacked them, only ventured too near, and mages, like poisonous snakes, will strike out even if there is to threat.

Hariana kept Ava busy enough. There were a few other slaves that had been brought to carry and keep track of supplies. None of them were slaves that Ava knew. Some had been aboard the ship already when they had embarked. They were a quiet, sullen lot, doing their tasks without question. At least they were well trained, though they had no respect for Ava, even if she was Hadriana's personal slave.

Hadriana made constant demands of Ava. She wished to be fanned, to have her hair arranged this way or arranged that way to keep it off her neck. Ava should carry her staff, or fetch her different shoes because hers were soaked through already. Everything about the jungle was soggy. It made the rainy season back home look like a gentle shower. Ava was unused to uneven paths and tripped often over rock or branch.

It was perhaps three days into the jungle when they found the Fog Warriors. Or rather, the Fog Warriors found them.

A thick mist as high as a human's head had rolled in that morning, slinking between the trees and coating everything in white. This was another novel experience for Ava and she found it most intriguing. At least she did until a spear suddenly appeared in the chest of the man standing nearest her.

Then there was chaos. Ava instinctively dropped to the ground, curling up under the blanket of mist and trying to make herself as small as possible. It was her best skill, being unnoticed, though these circumstances were very different from what she was used to. Overhead she saw flashes against the creeping white of the fog and heard a great deal of shouting. Someone tripped over her, cracking their shin into her spine, but she only curled all the tighter, her hand groping for her knife. She had carried it all this way, hidden on her person. She supposed she might have to make use of it. She held it carefully, so she would not stab herself by mistake.

This time when a leg drew too close to her she slashed with her little knife. She heard the desire yelped and the leg moved away. She had no idea whose limb it had been, but in this circumstance she knew no one here was an ally.

More yelling. More magic. Then a voice that startled her so badly she sat up. She still couldn't see through the fog, so she stood up, her gaze questing. The battle seemed to have stilled and she could make out shapes. One at least was a mage. A staff was raised, shedding what little light it could manage in the malaise.

Ava crept closer to the group. Danarius and Hadriana. She knew their shapes even in the fog. And another. His skin aglow with eery luminescence. She bit back a little yell. It was Fenris. His frost white hair shone in the light of his markings and Hadriana's magic.

"M...Master?" Fenris' voice was hoarse, small. He looked as astonished as Ava knew she must have.

"Little Wolf!" the magister said, his voice joyous. "I knew I would find you! I have come to take you home!"

"Master..." Fenris said again, as though he could not believe; could not understand the pure wrongness of this situation.

"Yes, Little Wolf. I have returned for you!" Danarius stepped towards Fenris, grasping the elf's shoulder. "You look so fit! That is wonderful! You've been thriving!" Fenris said nothing, merely stared, as though something inside him had snapped loose and he was trying to find the frayed ends.

Ava stepped closer, her knife still brandished, though she had forgotten it was in her hand. She wished Fenris would notice her, but his face was fixed on his master's.

There was a loud whooshing sound and Danarius cried out in pain. Something and pierced his side. An arrow. The fog warriors were not defeated. More arrows, more spears. Ava ducked again, though she remained on her knees, trying to see, trying to find Fenris.

"Fenris...kill them!" gasped Danarius.

Fenris was a flash of pale blue light in the jungle. He still wielded his massive blade, swinging it with precision. Efficiently cutting down Fog Warrior after Fog Warrior as though they were nothing put moths to be swatted. Ava had no idea how he even knew where the attackers were. She never even saw them until their death scream echoed and their body fell heavily to earth. They seemed as confused as she. Few seemed to defend themselves as Fenris cut them down. He rushed like a wind through their ranks. Ava had never seen anyone move like that in her life. Her mouth hung open in purest awe.

And then he was finished. Fenris stood panting, covered in blood, his markings glowing faintly. The mist was drifting away revealing so many bodies. Ava hand to put a hand over her mouth to keep her breakfast down. The leafy ground was a mess of blood and bone and internal organs. She staggered back, running into one of the few remaining warriors of Danarius's party. The man didn't even seem to notice her.

"Well done..." Danarius panted.

Hadriana was already looking to the arrow lodged in the Magister's side. "Ava! A mana potion. Quickly!"

"Mistress," Ava mumbled. "They are all broken."

She was not lying. The case containing the potions had been overturned in the combat. The ground was stained with blue and pocked with shards of glass. Hadriana swore in Tevene, giving Ava a deadly glare. "We must retreat. We must get back to the ship!"

"I have what I came for," Danarius said, reaching up and planting a hand on Fenris' shoulder. The elf flinched, but still wore a blank, hollow look on his face. As though he still didn't know who or where he was. "Do not worry, Little Wolf. I will erase your memories when we get home and I have more strength to do so. You may put this whole, terrible time behind you."

The group began their slow, painful journey back to the ship.

Ava tried to get Fenris's attention, but she was being made to look after Danarius and Hadriana was watching her every second. Fenris prowled around the group like a watchful hound. It was eery. His eyes never lighted on Ava for more than a few seconds at a time, and they tried to communicate nothing.

On the final night before they reached the ship, as Danarius lay in a fevered sleep, and everyone else attempted to slumber, Ava sat awake, putting cool cloths on the master's brow and watching Fenris prowl.

Suddenly he was beside her and his hand was on her wrist. His face too close to hers and he hissed, "are there long boats at the shore?"

"Fen-"

"Are there?" his fingers dig into her skin and she wriggled her wrist free, glaring. "Yes. Three. We left them there when we came into the jungle. We'll use them to get back to the ship."

"Good. Come." he stood, holding out a hand to her as though he had not just been acting in such an alarming way.

"What?"

"Come, Ava, please," he said, glancing around at the sleeping forms. They had come to trust his watch, and were too weary and injured from the battle to worry about him now.

Ava stood, carefully placing her slim hand into his. It was warm, calloused, and certainly the hand of her friend. The one she knew, and had thought lost. "Where?"

"Freedom."

The pair ran. Farther and faster than Ava had ever had need to run. When she tripped he pulled her up, never letting go her hand. The thick jungle leaves slapped at their faces. Branches and vines grappled and cut them, but they charged on, little heeding the sound of animals moving nearby.

Ava's lungs were ready to explode. It felt as though she were trying to breathe water. Her tough feet were bleeding and every muscle felt shaky as a newborn's. Still she gripped Fenris' hand. He had promised freedom and if this was what it felt like, then so be it.

They reached the shore as the pinkish fingers of dawn threatened on the horizon. Fenris urged her to keep low and they crept along, making for the longboats which were hauled ashore and waiting for Danarius's return. "We're stealing a boat?" Ava asked breathlessly.

"Yes, but first..." Fenris sneaked up to each boat in turn, and, using his sword like a lever, broke the little rudders. Then he stole all the oars These extra oars he put into the last boat, which would be for Ava and himself.

"We should have stolen food," Ave mumbled as he indicated that she should climb in.

"I met someone while I was here, living with the Fog Warriors. A captain who sails this region frequently. He'll find us before we starve." Fenris assured her

"A captain... you were living with the Fog Warriors?" This was all too much to take in. Ava just stared at the man as he pushed the longboat into the water until he was up to his waist, then jumped aboard. "But you killed them-"

"Hush." His voice was tight and there was pain behind it now. She tried to see his face, to understand, but he looked away, instead working with the oars.

Ava hushed. She helped with the oars, arranging herself so that both she and he would row. Her legs may have been worn out, but she could still make good use of her arms. And, to her surprise, they were strong arms. Years of labor, of laundry, or hauling an carrying had made her lean, but well muscled. Not a runner perhaps, but a lifter, a carrier, a worker. Her tough hands didn't blister under the punishment of the oars. She put her back into the work as though she was born to it and fell into rhythm easily. Still she watched Fenris, who had his back to her, rowing as well. He said nothing, offered her nothing. Nothing but her freedom.

Ava was almost certain that Fenris's captain was not going to find them. Dehydrated, sunburned, and as far as she knew, hopelessly lost, the pair had struggled on through a day and another night. Every moment certain that they would see the sails of Danaruis's ship coming after them.

Then, on the morning of the second day, as the two had fallen into a tumble together to sleep in the middle of their little boat, Fenris' prediction came to pass.

They were hauled from the water and given food and drink, and welcome aboard a bluff little ship called The Griffon. The captain, a kind, boisterous man named Kale promised to take them to Fereldan and Ava's heart sang. She spoke with the crew and they all told her of a place where elves might not live under the thumb of magisters. They did mention Alienages, which confused Ava, but she little heeded as they told her of paying jobs she might hold. Of the life she might live as a free woman. She drank it in like good wine.

Fenris was quiet and somber as ever he had been since the markings were placed on him, but he still spared Ava some time to talk, explaining in few words how the Fog Warriors had helped him. Healed him and taught him. How he slew them foolishly when bidden by Danarius. The last act of the slave that finally died inside him that day in the jungle.

"Where will we go?" she asked, hugging her knees and watching him as she so often did. He was a fascinating puzzle, this man. She wished she might have a chance to parse it out.

"We will not go anywhere," he explained sadly. "My friends will take you to Fereldan. A small port city where there will be jobs waiting for you. They will take me somewhere else. Somewhere far from you. Kirkwall perhaps."

"I know Kirkwall," Ava said, feeling intelligent. She had heard the place spoken of, if sparingly.

Fenris raised his eyebrows and graced her with a quick smile. "I wish I could tell you to visit me there, Ava, but I cannot. When we separate we must go our own ways. We must never be seen together again until we are certain that Danarius and Hadriana are both dead."

Ava thought about this. It stung to be told she was not welcome in his life any longer, but she understood why. That part of her mind that allowed her to be struck, to be punished and belittled without showing a glint of emotion, was still a strong, dominant part. She could see this pain, understand it, turn it away and bear it. She gritted her teeth, "If Hadriana and Danarius are killed?"

"It shall be by my hand." Fenris snarled with a wicked smile of his own. Ava found she liked the ferocity of it. "And then I will find you. But until that moment Danarius will dog my steps. He will not rest long before he seeks me again. You will be safer without me. It is unlikely that Hadriana will seek you as doggedly as my master will hunt me. If she seeks you at all."

"And I'll be free?"

"You'll be free."

Arrows and magic flew in every direction as skeletons were awakened and made to fight against them. Fenris shattered these magicked attackers with his sword, sending shards of bone flying. Merrill, that wild little apostate, was very skilled with her spells, though he would never admit it. A fist made of stone came crashing down, crushing a skeleton that was going to slash at Fenris's back.

Hawke was fighting nearby. He could hear her excited cries of victory as she darted this way and that like a deadly adder. Her daggers might have been little use against the skeletons, but she made do, punching more than slashing, and finding her usual glee in the task. He had to hide a smile. He loved the way she fought. A wild cat at his side.

With the enemy dispatched the party regrouped and took in the room. Fenris saw her first. A huddled shape, hiding in the corner. Pale, blond hair and pointed ears. An elf. Almost certainly one of Hadriana's slaves. She rushed to her, "are you hurt? Did they touch you?" he asked urgently.

"They've been killing everyone," she squeaked, her eyes huge and frightened. She didn't look terribly well fed, and someone, Hadriana no doubt, had plastered her face with the most ridiculous makeup Fenris had ever seen. "They cut Papa. Bled him! The magister said she needed power. That someone was coming to kill her."

"That would be us," Hawke said, a little smirk on her lips.

Fenris ignored this as they listened to the rest of the elf's tale. Of blood magic and death. When she was finished, Hawke offered Orana (for that was the girl's name) a job at the Hawke estate. Fenris felt his heart glow with momentary happiness. Then he leaned closer to the young woman, gently taking her frail arm, "Orana, I need you to tell me one more thing."

"Yes?" she asked meekly.

"Do you know a slave called Ava? Was one such woman ever brought back to the estate, or was her death ever mentioned that you know?"

"Fenris?" asked Hawke. He ignored her for the moment, trying to look into Orana's eyes. They way she avoided his reminded him all the more strongly of the woman he had lost. 'Eyes' she would scold him. He tried to imagine hers. Dark brown and always searching. Always disobeying her own rules.

"No," Orana said, her tone deeply earnest. "The other slaves talked about her sometimes. She used to belong to Mistress. She was killed by Fog Warriors they said."

Fenris exhaled a sigh and stood back from the young elf. Hawke's brows came together as she caught his look. "Fenris, why do you look suddenly...happy?"

She waved her off, a calmness coming over him. "No reason," he said. As the group moved on deeper into the cave, seeking after the hated Hadriana to end her life, he thought of Ava one more time, and, in spite of himself, smiled.

****** Well, there you go. This odd little fic. As I said, this is my cotton candy. My junk food fic. If it was also your cup of tea I hoped you enjoyed the read.

I did make a few changes to the story Fenris tells Hawke about how he escaped. In my version he sneaked away instead of murdering his way to freedom, but I figured he might have lied just a little bit to Hawke, just to be safe. His original plan was to cut his way to freedom through the soldiers after all. It just worked out better this way.

If you've read The New Ways of Old Gods you'll recognize Kale and his ship. Couldn't resist the cameo.

This probably isn't the last you'll see of Ava either. I have an idea for one more fic with her which I may or may not write some day. If you enjoyed her, give her a shout out to let me know you want more ;)

Thanks for reading! *****