Chapter 2

The sound of armored men, their gruff voices in low conversation, woke Cormac from his light sleep. No one slept deeply when they slept on the "streets" of Darktown. It had been a lesson learned long ago when he had been in Kirkwall no more than a week. Opening his eyes to mere slits, he feigned sleep as he eyes tracked the sound.

Templars. This couldn't be good. He noticed the last man in the group of three held a body across his shoulder. As he passed, he strained to see if he recognized the poor mage being dragged off to Maker knew what fate. His eyes flew open in shock when he realized that he indeed did know this mage. It was none other than the Champion.

As the Templars moved down the nearby stairs, Cormac crept out of the shadows. He followed silently behind them, keeping his tall, lanky frame to the numerous dark spaces. The dwarf had asked him to keep an eye out for the Templars and let him know if they seemed overly interested in the Healer, but he knew the Champion was his friend, as well. He knew he had to learn where they were taking her.

As the men and their still form traipsed along the dank corridors, Cormac kept pace. Back far enough to stay out of sight, but not so far that he would lose sight of them completely. It helped enormously that the Templars weren't bothering to be discrete. They joked amongst themselves and the snatches of conversation that he overheard made his blood run cold.

Cormac knew what the Templars did to mages when they brought them to Darktown. Everyone did, really. Maybe the nobles in their fancy Hightown homes were ignorant, but down here, the trash of Kirkwall knew. It irked him that the Templars believed no one in Darktown would stop them, mostly because they were correct. The Templars were the power in Kirkwall and the desperate people who made their homes in Darktown steered clear of the powers that be.

Well, this time, he swore, this time they had gone too far.

He stopped when the Templar in the lead stopped to unlock a door. Melting into the shadows of a nearby stairwell, Cormac watched as the men entered the room and shut the door behind them. He knew were they were. This was one a several forgotten cellars that dotted the Undercity. Most had been blocked off from the Hightown estates above. The only difference here was this one was locked from the Darktown side. When the door shut behind the last man, Cormac heard the lock snap home.

Bolting from his hiding spot, he ran back, retracing his steps until he encountered another one of the dwarf's set of eyes. Kicking the sleeping man in shins, he hissed at him to wake up.

"Get up, Durstan. 'S important."

The sleeping youth muttered a curse and swung one arm at Cormac, who deftly dodged it. Another kick, this time to the ribs and with more force, finally succeeded.

"Andraste's flaming cunt, leave off!"

"Durstan, you need to get to the Dwarf."

"Have the blighted mage hunters come for the Healer?"

"Worse. They've got the Champion. I think it's Arlik that has her, too."

"Shit," Durstan cursed and clambered to his feet. "Where?"

"Back down there. In one of the old cellars. You know, the one just past Little Eddy's roost."

"I know it," he nodded.

"I'll go watch and make sure they don't leave. You go get the Dwarf."

"Maker help me, but I don't feel one bit sorry for what's about to come down on their heads."

Cormac nodded and ran back to the cellar door. Finding a place in the shadows, he settled down to wait, confident that Durstan would get Tethras. Damn mage hunters. They've gone too far this time, he thought.

Durstan ran like his very life depended on it. For all he knew, it did. Heading into Lowtown, he made a direct line for the Hanged Man, pushing aside anyone who got in his way. As he traveled, the streets were filling up as the city awakened.

Breathless and holding on to the growing stitch in his side, Durstan burst into the Hanged Man and charged up the steps to the Dwarf's door. He hammered on it, ignoring the cries from the bartender below.

Behind the door, he could hear grumbled cursing and a chair being overturned. He didn't stop his banging, however.

Finally, the door was flung open and he was staring down into the greatly irritated face of Varric Tethras from behind a crossbow. A very large crossbow.

"Maker's balls, this better be important," Varric bellowed.

"It is, serah. It is."

"Durstan? What the hell are you doing here?"

Varric lowered Bianca and motioned for the boy to enter. He closed the door behind him and ushered the gasping youth to a chair.

"Take your time."

"Yes, ser," Durstan said, struggling for breath. When he had refilled his burning lungs, he spoke, his words coming out in a frenzied tumble. "It's the Templars, serah. TheyhavetheChampion."

Varric's normal ruddy complexion paled. "What the hell? You mean Blondie?"

"No serah. Cormac saw 'em. They has the Champion."

"Shit." Varric grabbed his coat and stuffed himself into it. "Do you know where?"

"Yes, ser."

"Good. You and I are going to Hightown. But first, we're waking up Isabella."

Varric pushed Durstan out the door and headed up the hallway to Isabella's room. He kicked the door open and was greeted by the sight of the pirate in a compromising position with one of her many "suitors".

"Hey!"

"The Templars have Hawke. Let's go."

One benefit of wearing next to nothing was the fact that it was quick to get dressed. Isabella stood up, straightened her tunic and grabbed the daggers she'd thrust into the headboard. Slapping them into their sheaths on her back, she caught up with Varric as he hit the door.

Together, they ran the distance to Hightown. Varric was out of breath and panting hard by the time they made it, but he soldiered on with grim determination. Cursing himself for being satisfied no one would attack the Champion, he prayed to the Ancestors that they'd be in time.

"You go check for Fenris at his place. I'll check Hawke's. If he's there, bring him back to Hawke's. We'll take Blondie's passage."

Isabella nodded and ran off while Varric and Durstan headed up the stairs towards the Amell estate. The Hightown crowd parted like the sea around them. Any other day, it would have made Varric chuckle to see the nobles and their lackeys keep clear of those they deemed unworthy. Today, he was focused on finding Fenris.

His concern grew with each step. What could they have been thinking, he wondered. It was common knowledge that the Champion was an apostate, but Meredith had overlooked it. Considering that the city might riot if she openly called for Hawke to enter the circle, he wasn't surprised. So, it probably wasn't Meredith.

"So, Durstan isn't it? Any idea who has the death wish?"

"Serrah?"

"Who has Hawke?"

"Oh! Ser Arlik."

"Shit."

"Yes, ser. I'm looking forward to that bastard dying."

"Oh, he will, my boy. He will. I just hope we get there in time."

The two fell silent as they continued to Hawke's mansion. Varric was out of breath but resolute. This was his best friend and he'd rather die himself than fail to reach her before that bastard made her Tranquil. The very thought of Hawke, his sarcastic, funny, beautiful friend turning into an emotionless drone made him sick.

At the mansion door he met the elf, Orana, headed out to the market for fresh food. Gasping, he rested a hand on the wall and blocked her path.

"Good morning, messere."

"Orana. Is Fenris here?"

"No ser. Neither he or Mistress Hawke are home."

"Damn it."

"Is there something wrong, messere?"

Varric looked at the young elf and forced himself to smile. "Nothing to worry about, Orana. Is Bodhan up?"

"Of course. Let me go get him for you."

"No, no. I can handle it. You go do your shopping," he said as he ushered her out of the doorway. "Go along. We'll be fine."

Orana frowned but left as Varric charged through the barely open door, pushing Durstan in front of him. Slamming the door shut behind him, he immediately began shouting for Bodhan. The older dwarf manservant came running, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Messere Tethras! What can I do for you?"

"Bodhan, brother, I need you to go get Aveline. Tell her to meet us in Darktown. I'll have someone meet her at the Clinic."

"What's happened?"

"The Templars have Hawke."

"Ancestors save us! I'll go at once."

Bodhan left the house at a dead run. When Durstan made to follow, Varric grabbed him by the arm and led him to the cellar. "Lucky for us, I know a way into Darktown that's a lot closer."

Isabella crashed through Fenris' door, ignoring the broken boxes, bloodstains and general disarray.

"Fenris! It's Isabella! Hawke needs you!"

Upstairs, Fenris heard Isabella's entrance. Grimacing, he headed to the head of the stairs and peered down. What could she possibly want this early in the morning, he wondered.

"Fenris!"

"I am here."

"Come on, we need to get back to Hawke's."

"What for?"

Isabella frowned. She really didn't want to be the one to tell Fenris this news. Damn broody elf might just go ghost on her. Taking a deep breath, she straightened up to her full height and set her feet, preparing for whatever might happen.

"The Templars have Hawke."

She watched as the customary glower on Fenris' face faded. The look that replaced it, well, it was one she would have gladly gone her entire life without seeing. His face seemed to simply melt. Gone was the glower and in its place was a naked vulnerability that hurt to see.

For a heartbeat, he stood perfectly still. Then he screamed, burst into his ghost form, and surged down the stairs. He moved so fast that Isabella lost sight of him until she felt the tips of his gauntlets grab her upper arms and shake her.

"Where is she!" he bellowed.

"Fenris," Isabella said softly. "Listen to me. One of Varric's eyes in Darktown brought the news. He can take us to her but you need to calm down."

Fenris closed his eyes and struggled to take control of his emotions. The fear and anger that gripped him was overpowering and it would be so easy to take it out on the pirate. He let go of Isabella's arms and raked a shaky hand through his hair.

"Lead me."

Isabella nodded and ignored the blood welling from her arms where Fenris' gauntlets had broken the skin. Turning, she led him silently out of his house.

The trek to Hawke's house was a short one and neither broke the silence as they ran. Those they passed on the street, backed away from them. Something in their faces made more than one step back in terror. Neither of them noticed in the least.

The door to Hawke's estate was open. Bodhan had forgotten to close it in his haste to leave. Closing the door softly behind her, Isabella led Fenris to the cellar where Varric waited.

"Varric's down there. Hopefully, he has the traps disarmed by now and we can go."

Fenris only nodded and took the lead, showing the pirate down the stairs. The cellar below Hawke's estate had been cleaned up since her first foray inside with Carver. It was a warren of small rooms, but Fenris had been here with Carver and Hawke when they robbed and killed the slavers who had won the estate from her Uncle Gamlen. He remembered the path to the small room that opened on the Undercity.

When they arrived, Varric was standing up from the last trap, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow.

"She amped these up since the last time I was down here. That last one nearly fried my ass." Looking at Fenris, Varric grew silent. He crossed the room on his short legs and placed a gloved hand on Fenris arm.

"Varric. Are you sure?" The words burst out of Fenris with that gentle touch. "If this is a trick," he growled, staring menacingly at him.

"I'm sorry, Fenris, but you need to calm down. I trust that Durstan and Cormac know better than to make something like this up."

"Then what are we waiting for?"

"Nothing, now."

Varric took to the stairs; the others close on his heels. The cellar passage entered the Undercity near Ander's clinic. Durstan headed for the stairs that led deeper into Darktown, but Varric stopped at the clinic door. Fenris pushed passed him, intent on following Durstan.

"Fenris. We need Anders."

"No."

"See reason, elf. If Hawke is hurt…"

At that Fenris turned back and grabbed Varric around the throat, lifting him off the ground. Pushing his face into Varric's he growled.

"Do not even think it."

Isabela placed a hand on Fenris' arm and pushed down. "Fenris. Minutes count in these things. Would you want Hawke to die because of your irrational hatred of Anders? We take him with us."

Fenris closed his eyes and desperately tried to calm himself. He lowered the dwarf to the ground and let go his throat. He nodded, once and turned back to Durstan. When he reached the boy waiting at the stairs, Durstan flinched. Fenris stopped, hanging his head.

"I am sorry, Varric. Get the Abomination." Fenris swallowed audibly and his markings flared. "Venhedis!"

The four of them followed Durstan silently as he led them deeper into the Undercity. Begrudging every second, Fenris kept close on the boy's heels, his sword out and ready. His mind was a blur of emotion – anger, terror and despair seemed to toss him about like a ship in a storm. He wanted to rush past Durstan and charge into battle, but he had just enough control left to recognize he had no idea where the bastards had taken her.

Their mad charge through Darktown didn't go unnoticed, of course. The poor, the Coterie, the Carta – all of them watched in awe and not a little fear as they ran through the warrens. No one stepped in their way, however. The look on Fenris' face was enough to discourage even the maddest and most desperate among them. Finally, they made one last turn and Cormac stepped out of the shadows.

"They're still inside," he said, gesturing to the locked door down the hall. "I haven't heard anything…"

No sooner than he had spoken than the air was rent by a scream. Muffled though it was, it tore straight into Fenris' heart.