Traps

Chapter 3

The small farm outside of Highever was unremarkable in every way. It was one of many such places that sprang up after the blight ended almost a decade ago. It was a place built by people hoping to regain the life they had lost, people who abandoned it when they realized that their old life was gone. The northern soil was not fit to grow enough crops to sell, even trying to feed ones family was an unlikely event, and so the small farm passed from one person to another. Finally it was purchased by a young woman from Kirkwall, eager to start a new life.

A woman named Bethany Hawke.

No one would have known that the young Hawke was an apostate on the run. No one would have suspected that the woman who now lived alone inside the little house was a member of one of the richest families in Kirkwall. The little house certainly gave no clues. The paint was peeling, the gate creaked loudly, and to call the place drafty would have been a gross understatement. The small farm house was by no means a hovel, but it could easily become one if not for its sole tenant.

Bethany would have been the first to admit this farm was no paradise, yet it was clear that the little place was slowly becoming a home. Bethany had learned from her parents how to make the best with as little as possible, and she was not afraid of hard work. No dust or cobwebs resided anywhere in the small dwelling. Gold gifted to the mage by her sister had been put to good use. A new well had been dug. A barn equipped for the care of life stock had been added. Inside the little place small trappings of wealth were clearly visible. Curtains far too nice for such a place were hung neatly in the windows. A miniature portrait of a young Leandra Amell graced the mantelpiece, one of the few things the apostate had managed to bring with her from her life in Kirkwall. No one could deny what she was trying to do. She was making a legitimate attempt to build a life here. It was a hopeful sight.

It was also a sight doomed to fail.

"It has been far too long hasn't it Bradley?"

Ser Bradley Reinhart did his best to ignore Hadley's gloating. In his few short years in the Gallows he had come to know the other Templar to be a man who enjoyed the suffering of others.

Much like his best friend Alrik, Hadley saw mages as toys for his own amusement. Alrik had used them for sex. Hadley had used them for torture. He had been Knight-Commander Meredith's favorite disciplinarian, and as the commander had grown more paranoid his duties as well as his appetites had increased. Only a select few of the mages under their care had not felt Hadley's lash at least once.

Bethany Hawke had been is favorite.

"Try to restrain yourself brother," Bradley said watching the road intently, "no mage should be underestimated."

"You worry too much," the older Templar sneered, "Trust me. I've … educated Mistress Hawke before. She'll surrender if she thinks will spare her that fate again."

"As you say." Bradley replied glumly

When the Templars of Kirkwall had received word that the Champion's sister was hiding in Northern Ferelden, Hadley had been the first to volunteer to go and retrieve her. Knight-Commander Delance, Meredith's temporary replacement, had approved the man's request. Delance had become obsessed with the idea that the Hawkes, along with First Enchanter Orsino and the rebel warden Anders, had masterminded the destruction of the chantry and the murder of Grand Cleric Elthina. He had also come to believe that through the use of blood magic the Champion had poisoned Meredith's mind resulting in her own breakdown and eventual death; all with the intent of causing a schism between the people of Kirkwall and the Templar order. Many Templars, Bradley included, refused to believe such a thing.

Then the plague had begun. A plague the new Knight-Commander blamed on the Champion and her apostate sister.

Once they had reached the shores of Highever, The Templars had tracked the runaway mage using her phylactery, a vial of blood taken when she had entered the Circle seven years ago. It had led them to this small farm on the outskirts of Highever. The two Templars had approached the house early in the day and saw they're dark haired quarry leaving in a small wagon heading into Highever. Bradley had wanted to approach her then, but Hadley had over ruled him.

"We will wait until dark," he grinned hungrily, "It will give us time to go back and gather the rest of the men. Who knows maybe she is going to meet her sister. When she comes back we may have them both."

Bradley could see the wisdom in that. However, he suspected that more than anything Hadley hoped that coming under the cover of night would be far more terrifying than simply approaching their quarry during the day.

Hadley had always favored spreading fear.

Now they sat in wait, a dozen of Delance's finest troops at their backs waiting to spring the trap.

"Remember Knight Captain Cullen's orders," Bradley told his fellow Templar, "Hawke is to be brought back to the Gallows alive. We have to know how she caused the plague."

"Alive, yes," Hadley agreed dismissively, "that does not mean we can't have a little fun first." The man's smirk was crueler than any demons.

Behind them the mercenary troops Delance had provided chuckled at the senior Templar's comment. Bradley wasn't sure why the Knight-Commander had not allowed more Templars to accompany them on this mission. Now he found himself surrounded by men with no stake in recapturing the mage other than the money Delance's wealthy patrons had gifted to him. The Knight-Commander was said to enjoy the confidence of the Divine herself. Why couldn't they then request aid from the Templars here in Ferelden? If the Hawke sisters had done everything Delance claimed they had done, then why were they here in secret? It made no sense.

"You should learn whose orders take precedence Brad." Hadley sneered at the younger man, "Cullen won't be around forever. Everyone knows he considered that Hawke bitch a friend. Maybe he even helped her in the Grand Cleric's death."

"He is still our superior, Hadley."

"Only until his Exaltedness replaces him. You need to think of your future, boy! Delance is the Divine's unofficial right hand. Once he has dealt with the Hawkes, no one will dare question his power, the Exalted One will one day rule Kirkwall, and he will reward those who support him."

Bradley fought the urge to laugh. It was not the place of a Templar to rule anything. They were guardians of the chantry. Delance's status as Knight-Commander did not give him the right to rule. That did not stop his followers from saying such things, however. Hadley wasn't the only Templar to embrace the Knight-Commander as some kind of savior. Far too many Templars had in fact started referring to Delance as the Exalted One. Some even claimed that he was a new prophet, and destined to unite all of Thedas, and rule over it as the Maker's chosen one.

Bradley was not one of them.

Knight Captain Cullen himself had asked Bradley to accompany Hadley on this mission. Cullen had hoped that Enchanter Hawke would return to the Gallows willingly. Mages all over Thedas had heard what had happened the night the Gallows burned. The Grand Enchanter herself had spoken out publicly demanding Meredith's lieutenants answer for what many Mages had come to feel as an open abuse of power. An air of defiance had drifted from circle to circle. Even with Delance's reinforcements in Kirkwall, the Templar's grip on the power there was tenuous. Enchanter Hawke's presence might change that.

"If Mistress Bethany returns," Cullen had told him two weeks ago, "then perhaps all those who supported her sister will see we are not their enemies. We can afford to be merciful. Let Enchanter Hawke return to her duties, and let all of Kirkwall see this. Perhaps the Guard and Nobility will then see that we are not all paranoid fanatics."

Bradley hoped that Cullen was right. He had never intended to be anything but a guardian of the Chantry and Circle. Fighting for political power was not what he had signed on for. He was loyal to the Maker, and the Divine Justinia. It was the sisters' place to guide the chantry, not the Templars.

Cullen's orders had been clear. Bradley was authorized to offer her amnesty in exchange for honest answers regarding what had happened in Gallows the night Meredith had died. In addition, any information regarding the magical plague that had swept Darktown after the woman had fled would be useful as well. If she was guilty of conspiracy and spreading the plague then Bradley would be required to deal with her accordingly. If she were innocent, then he was required to protect her from any threats to her person.

That included Ser Hadley.

IOI

The phylactery began to glow.

Bradley felt himself tense. He was a skilled warrior, and had fought bravely during the annulment of the Gallows, but that did not mean that he enjoyed this part of his life. It was always better when bloodshed could be avoided. Hadley, he was sure, would disagree; signaling to the men to take their places the two Templars prepared for what would hopefully be an easy arrest. Bradley found himself offering a quick prayer to the Maker to watch over them in this endeavor.

He glanced over at Hadley who had taken on the look of an overly eager cat. Eyes wide and bright breathe coming in excited gasps. The man lived for the fear he brought out in his prey. The anticipation of what was to come had nearly robbed the man of his senses, all the more reason Bradley to remain on his guard; if Hadley did anything to jeopardize the success of this mission than it would fall to the younger man to complete it.

The small cart that they had seen leaving earlier had returned. A woman, hooded and cloaked, held the reigns tightly as she urged the horses up the broken pass. A few strands of raven colored hair drifted out from underneath the heavy cloak, an old wooden staff rested at her side.

Bradley could make out the shadows of men moving quickly through the trees. A few moments more and the enchanter would have nowhere to run.

The trap was about to be sprung.

IOI

Traps are interesting things. They are set by people who understand what they are trying to trap. Few in Thedas would doubt that the Templar order were more than proficient in setting traps for Mages. After all they had done it since the very beginning of the Chantry. When a Templar set a trap for a mage, it was a good idea for the mage to be somewhere else.

Sometimes however, a trap was in itself a trap. Say someone let slip where a certain wanted apostate was living. Say they had also hinted that the apostate's elder sister may also be there.

Such a tempting prize would be very hard to pass up.

The four people coming up the road behind Bethany Hawke's cart were aware of this fact and prepared accordingly.

A trap for a mage it seemed worked equally well for a Templar or two.

IOI

"That's enough Hadley!"

The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to think about them. A moment ago he had been next to fellow Templar gritting his teeth and trying very hard to control his temper. Now… ?

"What is this now?" Hadley snarled the man clearly did not like his fun being interrupted. Bradley's sword was now pressing into the other man's throat. The soldiers around them drew their blades readying themselves for trouble.

Bradley had done his best to remain silent. As soon as Hawke had come into to view Hadley's smite knocked the poor mage right off her cart. Their soldiers, emerging from their hiding places, moved quickly to surround her. The mage looked up helplessly, cowering in fear. Two mercenaries herded her away from the seat of her cart where her staff lay tantalizingly out of reach.

"Bethany Hawke," Hadley declared triumphantly, "By order of Knight-Commander Gaston Delance, you are under arrest."

"Maker's mercy." The woman whimpered, pulling her hood farther up her eyes darting around for any chance to escape. "P-please messere, spare me. I-I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Nothing wrong." The senior Templar sneered his foot struck out kicking the woman hard in the ribs making her yelp. She did her best to crawl away farther and farther from her cart.

Don't interfere, a small voice in the back of Bradley's head whispered.

"You drive Knight-Commander Meredith mad, you blow up the chantry, you poison most of Kirkwall with your plague,and you have the gall to say you have done nothing wrong!"

Hadley's foot struck her again, and again.

Don't interfere.Bradley winced with each strike on the poor woman.

"I'm surprised you have forgotten me already Hawke? It's your old friend Ser Hadley." The Templar purred viciously, his lip parting in a feral smile, "I left my mark on you the last time we … talked. It seems you need a little reminder."

His foot struck her again.

Bradley ground his teeth as their sycophant soldiers jeered at the woman's pain.

Don't interfere.

"Please." The injured mage begged her hand reaching for Bradley.

"That's enough Hadley." The young Templar murmured.

"Mind your place boy!"

The younger man's hands tightened into angry fists.Don't interfere. If he goes too far you can stop this until then don't interfere.

"I think something special is called for here," Hadley chuckled, regarding the woman writhing in the dirt "what do you think boys? Should we give this pretty little bitch a night she will never forget?"

The mercenaries jeered. Bradley's eyes narrowed,what's he up to now?

Hadley reached for his belt and began to undo his kilt.

Certainly he doesn't mean too?

"Hadley don't."

"Don't worry. You can have a go after I'm done."

The woman pawed helplessly and the base of Bradley's kilt. "Please Messere," she begged, Please don't let them do this."

Hadley laughed at the cringing woman.

Something in the young Templar snapped.

That does it!

Bradley pushed his fellow Templar away. He drew his sword with an angry snarl, its blade pointed at the older man's chin.

"I said that is enough!"he growled dangerously positioning himself between the woman and Hadley. The Enchanter had surrendered there was no reason to hurt her further. "By order of Knight-Captain Cullen, and the authority vested in me by the Chantry. I hereby relieve you of command Hadley! Men take his weapons!"

The mercenaries looked at the young Templar like he had gone insane. Slowly deliberately, they begin to widen the circle surrounding the injured woman and her defender. Some even chuckled and Bradley's attempt to take command.

Now he knew while no other Templars had been sent with them.

"Tis truly a sad thing," Hadley said his voice dripping with false sadness, "to see a fellow Templar fall under the thrall of a blood mage."

What?

"Don't worry lad." Hadley smirked coldly, "I'll see your body gets back to Kirkwall alright. As for this little bitch don't worry. I'll make sure she doesn't have a care in the world… after we have had our fun, of course."

Bradley's blade had not left the older man's throat. One twitch and the archers behind him would release their arrows. Could he get Hadley before they got him? Would it even matter? The enchanter would still go back to Delance. Who knows what story the men here would tell Cullen.

He couldn't believe his life was about to end this way. It did not seem possible that he was about to be slain by someone who should consider him a brother.

Maker, my enemies are abundant, but my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion.

The chant had always brought him comfort, and steeled his resolve. He was likely to die here, but if he did than by the Maker he would not go alone. He would defend the woman behind him until his dying breath.

He looked down on her now. The woman's sobbing fading to sniffles. She glanced up at him a look of amusement playing across her face, and lighting up her eyes.

Her red elven eyes!

He realized now what was happening.

It's not Hawke!

"Stay close to me handsome," the elf whispered in a thick Orlesian accent, smiling despite the pain from Hadley's kicks "things are about to get interesting."

Four armored figures fell on the Templars and mercenaries like a terror. Magic and steel clashed as one. Men screamed and died.

The real trap had been sprung.