CHAPTER FOUR
( A Lie Revealed )
Moisture threatened to spill over from her eyes as Hawke sat up in the bed. She barely had time to react before the shade reached out to grab her throat. The mage spread her fingertips and flames erupted from them. The shade screeched, flailing as it sank to the ground and eventually was no more. Her breaths came rapidly for a few minutes before she regained her composure. There wasn't really time to think, however, because Fenris still slumbered in the same endless dream-like sleep she'd been stuck in.
Hawke reached inside of herself, pulling on the same magic she had and let her hand hover over Fenris.
"Forgive me," she winced then caustic sparks flew from her fingertips, interrupting the flow of dark magic that had possessed the elf and probably giving him a decent shock as well.
Just like Hawke had, Fenris shot up in bed, panting. Hawke grabbed his face, holding him tightly so that he could gather himself.
"It was just a dream, someone trapped us in an endless dream in the fade but we're back now," Hawke let him go and Fenris regained himself, now oriented to time and place.
Emotions still lingered in her body, a swelling sadness at the loss of Bethany and Leandra as though it had only happened yesterday. Wordlessly the duo geared up.
"We need to find the others, we might not be the only ones targeted," Hawke said harshly as she tightened the last buckle on her chest piece.
Fenris's hand wrapped around her wrist as she grabbed her staff.
"How did you break the compulsion?" he asked.
"I'm a mage, I've been to the fade plenty of times. What concerns me is how exactly we got there, especially trapped in a dream," Hawke's face hardened, "this doesn't bode well for the marquess or her guests."
Silently, Hawke peered down the hallway to find it completely empty. Staff in hand, she made her way down to Varric's room and pressed the door open. The dwarf lay asleep in his bed with no sign of demons or shades anywhere. Hawke whispered sharply at her companion.
Dwarves didn't dream so there was hardly any chance of him being mentally stuck in the fade. The lucky bastard was probably just sleeping.
"Varric! Varric!" she poked him lightly.
Varric tossed over in bed, muttering something about nugs. Fenris shook his head and stepped forward, shaking the dwarf repeatedly until he jumped awake. His fingers raced for Bianca but fell short when he realized it was the pair of them looming over him.
"Andraste's balls elf! Haven't you heard of knocking?" he sat up, night robe pressed around his groggy form.
Hawke shrugged.
"Maybe you were just sleeping but Fenris and I were trapped in a nightmare, a certain fade-related nightmare," she shook her head.
The dwarf scanned the room briefly and found that they were both fully-geared. A heavy sigh followed as he stood up, brushing the sheets aside.
"See? This is why we don't go to parties Hawke. Trouble is like your vengeful ex-boyfriend," he shook his head, "give me a minute to get ready will you?"
Hawke nodded and the pair stepped outside as Varric dressed. She traced the dark wood of the staff with her fingertips, settling on a small cerulean crystal that had been affixed to the top. For someone who hated mages Carver had pretty edcuated tastes in mage-wear. Merrill had surmised that he probably asked some of the mage charges what they preferred. Fenris looked ahead, thinking.
"What exactly did you dream about?" he inquired.
"Some posh fantasy regarding life as a distinguished Kirkwall noble, what a bore," she started, "you'd think a demon would have better tastes. If they had been any good at it I never would've noticed something was off."
Fenris smirked in response to her confidence, probably amusing himself with the thought of her as a posh noble. Even Hawke had to admit it was amusing.
"Of course. I dreamed of Danarius, more of a nightmare really. Like stepping back in time," he then growled, "magic, what purpose does it serve other than to torment others?"
He seemed to realize the broad hurt of this statement and was about to fix it when a fully-geared Varric brandishing his beloved Bianca stepped out.
"Rivaini? Daisy?" he asked.
Hawke shook her head.
"I don't even know where they boarded, when we settled in for the night Isabela was still going strong with the drinks," Hawke admitted.
"We better check these rooms then, be prepared for some weird shit. Nobles love erotic role play in foreign bedrooms," the dwarf said with a straight face.
The mage couldn't stop her eyebrow from shooting up in skepticism.
"He's joking Hawke," Fenris clarified, drawing a light chuckle from the Champion.
Multiple abandoned rooms later it was decided that the rooms were empty. Wherever their companions were it wasn't here. Hawke slung her staff over her back into its harness as she looked at her current party members. They quickly formulated that searching the non-guest suite of the estate might be the best bet. As they stepped out into the hallway Varric shared a thoughtful insight.
"I was wondering how a singular marquess could afford this level of finery and not be involved in the underworld and then it occurred to me," Hawke's hand paused over the closed doors leading to the main corridor, "she couldn't. There's no way she's a real marquess. We've been baited."
"Considering the amount of nobles present, I doubt we were the targets, not to mention the guests whom attended are of no significant rank. Minor lords and ladies save one duchess," Hawke pointed out, "I doubt taking them out would do much for the state of Orlais' affairs."
"Probably not but replacing them..." Varric let his voice trail off.
Hawke was unnerved by the thought. Replacing indicated either body doubles or, more ominously, demons. She pushed the doors to the main hall open. It was a grandiose area with a double stairwell and upper level overlooking. At the front stood a large gilded statue of Andraste with her hands stretched upwards in prayer. Someone stood at the top of the stairwell then began to slowly walk towards them.
Fenris's hand fell to the hilt of his blade but Hawke waved her hand at him and he halted.
"Gaimon Pel?" Varric questioned. This man was apparently a guest from the party. If Hawke remembered correctly, he was a commoner hunting friend of one of the lords in attendance.
Something was wrong about the way he walked, a refined precision no human could have. As he got close enough for her to see Hawke noticed that his eyes were darker than shadow and his pupils erased by an even darker magic. She pushed away the chill running up her spine.
Fenris placed himself in front of the duo, drawing his sword.
"Demon," he hissed.
The very-possessed Gaimon Pel offered a polite bow then spoke though his voice was somewhat altered.
"The mistress requests your presence in the library to... discuss certain issues," he replied politely as though Fenris had not just threatened his life.
Hawke and Varric exchanged glances.
"Where are our companions?" Hawke asked firmly.
Every fiber of her being was screaming that they should cut this demon down but it happened to be wearing an innocent man's face. If there was any way they could save him AND find out where their companions were this was a gamble they might have to make. Fenris was tense but Hawke knew he wouldn't strike without her word. She indicated that he should back down and Fenris stepped to the side but kept both his blade and his gaze trained on the figure.
"Mistress wishes to discuss a deal with you. I have only been sent to bring you to her," the man said in monotone.
"This has trap written all over it Hawke," Varric interjected.
It was true but this man was a necessary evil if they wanted to find their companions safely.
"We don't have a choice. Very well demon, take us to your mistress," she felt the sarcasm dripping from every word.
Not a word passed between them as they were led up the stairwell and down a seemingly endless corridor. Fenris's hands never left his broadsword and Bianca was poised to strike but Hawke had opted to keep her staff sheathed. If it came down to it she didn't really need it to cast her spells. After an uncomfortably long walk the trio were led into a towering library. Behind them the possessed man stood dutifully by the door but Hawke's eyes were drawn to a more prominent figure in the room.
"Marquess," she stated, only a bit surprised at the development.
The woman, still adorned in her evening finery, rose from her seat at a large desk. Around them a collection of books towered on every wall, enough to make any circle jealous. When the marquess strode down the small set of stairs towards them Hawke's personal boundary line was broken and she reached for her staff. A smirk crossed the other woman's face. To anyone without context she might have looked like a beautiful woman flirting but Hawke could see passed her external appearance and there was something sinister about the woman.
"Hawke, as impressive as ever. You didn't like my dream, huh? And here I thought you would give anything to be with your family again," she purred with a posh expression offered to the mage.
Hawke growled. She remembered the hurt she'd felt upon waking.
"It's not being with them if it's a lie. Besides I couldn't get over the cheap naming schemes, next time you orchestrate a dream be sure to create something a little more... realistic. Carver and I would never get along," she quipped sarcastically.
The marquess seemed completely unfazed by this, however, and gestured with dainty fingers that they should sit down. When the group remained standing she said nothing and continued her polite charade. Hawke wasn't entirely sure just exactly what was going on with the marquess but she had a few ideas. Demon? Blood mage? Take your pick.
"See, I have run into a problem. You were never supposed to be here. In fact I had it on good authority that the Champion of Kirkwall rarely attended parties of this caliber so imagine my surprise when I hear that you're attending," she began to run her fingers over the books of a nearby shelf, "no matter I figured, we'll just trap you in dream sleep like everyone else. It was a magical poison in the wine, if you were unsure. But the great Hawke has proven far more formidable than imagined!"
Icy blue eyes swept over the group like a wolf watching prey. This was a creature that hunted for fun, not necessity.
"Get to the point," Hawke called in an annoyed tone.
Before them platinum blonde hair shone against the dim candlelight, a flash of the shimmering hues of her dress catching as well. Had she not have just trapped Hawke and companions in the fade the mage might have found her appearance flawless but now she was just pissed. Fenris seemed ready to snap, fingers tensing over the blade of mercy she'd given him last week to the point where his knuckles were turning white.
"If you leave, no questions asked, I will produce your companions. They will be completely unharmed and you may go about your business as if this... unpleasant occurrence never happened," the marquess spoke in her smooth voice.
It took all of Hawke's effort not to scoff. There it was, the smallest of flickers that she should've noticed earlier. This woman was no mage, not anymore.
"I've got a better idea. You die demon," as Hawke went to draw her staff Fenris charged and Varric whipped around to train Bianca on the guard at the door.
The elf's blade swung, cutting through the air as the marquess stepped back with an inhuman speed. Purple magic burned her disguise away, revealing the tell tale lavender skin and glowing horns of a desire demon. She laughed haughtily at them, a hint of burning anger in her voice.
"Fools! I will kill you all!" she screeched, waving her hand so that a sphere-like barrier covered her seductive form.
Hawke cursed as a handful of possessed servants poured in through the door way.
"Damnit Hawke, these are people. If we kill them..." he let his voice trail off, backing up as a dozen of the possessed walked slowly towards them.
"I know! Keep them off me I have a plan," Hawke called, drawing her staff. She threaded her thoughts into the core of her power, sending the magic flowing through the staff.
With the desire demon impervious to hits it would be prudent to address the mob about to outnumber them. Several shades had also clawed their way up from the floor and as one went to swing at Hawke Fenris sliced it straight across. Blade raised, he turned his back to Hawke to focus on the shades. Varric took another down with Bianca. Hawke closed her eyes, trusting her companions completely.
There, it was ready.
Cold frost ebbed up the wooden staff, the energy of the magic collecting in the crystalline gem. With one strong swing ice spiked from the ground her staff had indicated, trapping the mob within its crystalline spires.
"It won't last forever!" she yelled, swinging a fireball in the direction of the demon's barrier. It bounced off slightly but the barrier sustained significant damage. Varric shot a bolt at another shade which screeched then flailed to the ground, gone.
As Hawke flung another fireball the barrier cracked, dissolving under the strength of her magic. The demon growled in rage but was too slow to dodge the next projectile which hit her blank in the face. Claw-like nails beat at the air where the magic had dissolved leaving just enough of a window for Fenris to approach. In one clean cut he swung the blade striking the demon down. Purple fire erupted as she wailed and, mostly for good measure, Hawke flung one more fireball at the creature.
With one final scream the demon died and the glamour she held on the mansion around them dissipated as though they had awakened from a dream.
Hawke looked around her in horror at the place they'd actually stayed in.
"Well, this is unexpected," Varric chimed in. With the death of their master the shades faded and those possessed fell to the ground, asleep.
What was once a beautiful, elaborate, and well-kept mansion now appeared as it truly was. Dust and cobwebs clung to every corner of the decrepit library. A skeletal frame was propped up against one of the tables holding a foul-smelling drink. Whatever books remained in the library were so age-worn and torn that it would be a loose interpretation to even call this place a library. Graveyard was probably more appropriate than library given the damage time had done.
"I'm wanting to know less and less what I actually bathed in," Hawke said, disgusted as she knelt down to inspect the pile of slumped servants. The ice had long since dissipated, "alive, but it looks like they won't be waking up anytime soon. Probably a side effect of the wine."
Hawke stood up dusting her hands off and feeling very much like she needed a shower.
"It's probably safe enough to leave them here now that the marquess isn't around. If we weren't the targets then I have to wonder who is," Fenris looked at Hawke with a concerned expression, "the nobles?"
"Seems like it," Hawke said with a hint of weariness in her voice.
Fenris waved a paper that had been sitting on the marquess's 'desk', the ink not worn by the passing of time. It looked like a correspondence of the marquess's. Hawke took the hint and grabbed it from him reading faster than she thought she could.
"Apparently this was not the Marquis Vist but a stand in. Obviously a demon stand in. This looks like some sort of contract accompanied by some very specific instructions. There's apparently a crypt in the woods where Vist conducts his 'business'. Whatever disturbing things that might entail," Hawke couldn't help her sarcasm with the next remark, "a man who conducts business in crypt? Clearly we have to meet him."
She let the paper go and it fluttered to the ground like a leaf that had fallen victim to the wind.
"What should we do about these guys?" Fenris indicated the still sleeping group of friends and servants. Varric shook his head.
"Lock them in here. Minus a few nightmares they'll be safer not roaming the halls of this dusty mansion," the dwarf admitted and Hawke had to agree, "not to mention they'll probably pass out when they find out what we've actually been touching and eating. I certainly don't want to know."
When the lock was safely sealed with Hawke's magic Varric turned to his companions.
"Next time you want to go to a party Hawke it's going to be at the Hanged Man and I'll be doing the planning," with that he slung Bianca back over his shoulder.