Anwen Mahariel: The Slow Arrow chp8

Chapter 8

“Where’s the bow?” Sera shouted the moment Saffron limped from the tomb covered in dust, sweat, and blood. The rogue was genuinely surprised that Saffron had lost, and looking at her, Saffron realized for the first time just how infallible her companions seemed to believe she was.

“Don’t tell me you lost!” Sera went on incredulously.

“Sera,” Iron Bull scolded.

Sera ignored him, waving her hands. “How could you lose? You’re the greatest mage I’ve ever known!”

“It sort of wasn’t fair,” Saffron said. She closed her hand on her cheek and white light shimmered through her fingers as she healed the cut there. “I mean . . . she’s already dead.”

Zevran laughed. Saffron looked at him and saw that he didn’t seem surprised in the least that she had lost to the Hero. He looked at her fingers and did, however, seem surprised she still had them. “Now that this pointless endeavor is at its end,” the assassin said, approaching Saffron, “if you would be so kind as to hand me the key to the tomb, my good woman. I must take it to the First Warden.”

Saffron blinked at him.

“Trust me,” Zevran said in an undertone.

Saffron hesitated, then removed the chain from her neck and passed the key to Zevran. Zevran then slipped the key on, turned to one of the Gray Wardens, and left down the stairs with him. Saffron was startled to realize several wardens had gathered outside the tomb, but there was no sign of Briala whatsoever.

“Are you alright?” Iron Bull asked.

Saffron glanced at him fondly and knew how she must’ve looked to him. After the fight with the Warden, her hair was tousled, her clothes bloody and disheveled. Blood was still seeping from the wound on her back. She had completely forgotten the arrow was there. She glanced over her shoulder and was astonished to realize it was gone. She could still feel the agony of its blade, cutting through skin and flesh and grazing bone. Perhaps the arrow had never existed in a real sense.

“We will take you to a healer,” said one of the wardens to Saffron. “I’ve yet to know a mage who could heal a hole in her back.”

Saffron smiled weakly. “Ma serannas.”

Saffron was not surprised when she was taken not inside Weisshaupt but to a separate quarter in a rear courtyard where injured refuges lay groaning and moaning on cots. The wardens seemed adamant that she should not enter the fortress itself and even stood outside her tent, grimly waiting to escort her once she was healed. The girl who healed Saffron was a young mage, human, and terrified. She no doubt saw the hints of vallaslin behind Saffron’s make up, as well as the sigil of the Inquisition that glowed on her belt buckle. She hastily healed the wound on Saffron’s back and bowed her way out of the tent, leaving Saffron to wash at the basin in the corner.

Iron Bull and Sera had accompanied Saffron inside. Sera grudgingly turned her back and Iron Bull didn’t bother turning when the Inquisitor opened her tunic and washed the blood off her breasts and neck. Iron Bull lifted his brows in surprise when Saffron scrubbed at her face with sudden vehemence. The make up slid down her cheeks and dripped in the basin, polluting the water in a dark cloud. Saffron scowled, gathered more water, and scrubbed her face until the blood writing stood out clear around her eyes. She would never hide her heritage again.  

“I take it this sudden wardrobe change has to do with the Hero?” Iron Bull said with a cocked brow.

Sera turned to find the Inquisitor decent again. She gasped to see the tattoos standing clear on her face. “Saffy!” she cried, grinning. She folded her arms. “So you’re happy to be an elf again?” Her grin was so wide, she looked slightly mad. Her uneven hair spiked down over one bright eye.

Saffron’s face hardened as she smoothed her loose hair back and knotted it at the nape of her neck. “I was never unhappy, Sera. Hiding my vallaslin was one way to appease the Andrastians.” She frowned. “I’m done appeasing humans.”

“That’s my girl,” Sera said cheerfully.

“So what happened in the tomb?” Iron Bull asked. “When you came out, you looked half-dead. I’d never seen you so pale in my life. It was as if . . .”

“I’d seen a ghost?” Saffron finished for him. She sat on the edge of the nearby cot and began the work of unlacing a boot with torn laces: one of the Hero’s arrows had slashed her boot open. She frowned at her work, “Where’s Briala?”

“Said she had to go to the little girl’s room,” Sera said, jerking her head. “I think she just wanted to check up on that pony of hers.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Iron Bull said pointedly.

Saffron smiled patiently. “No. I didn’t.”

The qunari’s eyes narrowed. “What? The words of the Hero are for the ears of elves alone? I want to know what happened.”

“She’s gonna tell us, Bull, calm down,” Sera said impatiently, but her eyes were fixed on Saffron.

“I wanted to wait for Briala, but . . . According to the Hero of Ferelden,” Saffron answered with a sigh, “Elgar’nan is going to step through the Veil and take over the world. And the only way to stop him and close the breach is to . . . wake an arrow.”

Iron Bull and Sera exchanged glances.

“. . . alrighty,” Sera said at length.

Before Saffron could elaborate further, Zevran entered the tent, mussed and breathless. “Come with me, hurry!” He turned and ran out again.

Saffron and her companions exchanged glances but didn’t hesitate to follow. Outside, the wardens were shouting angrily, screaming orders, and running along the battlements. Mage and templar refugees stared in awe and pointed at the sky.

“A griffon!” shouted a male mage. He stood near Saffron and her companions, draped in a bloody blue robe with a bandage on his head. His mouth was hanging open. “Sweet Andraste’s knickers!” he cried, pointed at the sky. “It’s a bloody griffon!”

Saffron’s lip curled. The man was clearly delirious. Maybe another tear was happening, or a dragon was in the sky, but a griffon? They’d been dead for centuries. “Let’s find Briala and get out of here,” she said to her companions.

No one moved.

“Get out of here?” Zevran said, amused. “Don’t you want to help these people?”

Saffron tossed a hand. “We don’t know what the hell’s happening here. Someone could be laying siege to the fortress. Depending on who they are, they could be laying siege to my fortress next if I stick around to help.”

Iron Bull nodded. “She’s right. Let’s find the elf and get out of here.”

Saffron made a move but Sera grabbed her arm.

“Are you people blind?” Sera yelled. “There’s a griffon in the sky!”

“I get it, Sera,” Saffron said flatly. “You’re insane. Come on. Let’s --” The words caught in Saffron’s throat. There was indeed a griffon in the sky.

And Briala was riding it.