Commander of the Grey in the Free Marches Aage Osterholt looked down at the letter in utter disbelief once more. Outside the thick glass windows of his office the afternoon sun was shining brightly over Ansburg, but the warmth wasn't quite reaching him.
"Kirkwall!" he said to himself, hoping against fact that he was mistaken. "Kirkwall!"
There was a perfunctory knock on his door, and Enoch Van Markham, his Constable, slipped in.
"The Warden-Commander of Ferelden is in Kirkwall," Aage told him, and Enoch froze.
"Why is he there? We don't go there! Wardens don't go to Kirkwall! Why would he ignore something like that!"
"I don't think he knows," Aage said, and put the letter down, smoothing it out against his desk as he tried to stay calm. "Ferelden didn't have Wardens properly before, and then the First Warden just threw the country at him after the Blight was over. He didn't have a preceding Commander to tell him why we don't go to Kirkwall."
"You're sending me to go get him," Enoch said.
"Tell them," Aage ordered. "I don't care that it's only supposed to be Commanders who know about this, we forsook the secret when Larius and Janeka lost it and we had to sacrifice most of our own people to staff that blighted tower. I can't go myself and you're a Senior Warden, but not enough so- Maker willing, Andraste bless- that you're coming up on your Calling, and you know better than to pay attention. Get down to Kirkwall and drag the Fereldans out before Corypheus gets to them. I do not want to explain to Weisshaupt that we're the reason that the First Warden's pet project got lost in Vimmark Prison. Or have to come up with an excuse to the Queen of Ferelden why she's lost her newest arl."
"At once- I'll take the post road."
"But if it turns into a them-or-you, Enoch- make sure you're the one who comes home."
Andraste's Flames how many times could they lose the same person? Why was the Commander so bad at staying found? Why did he keep running off? What had happened to Zevran and Kallian?
At least wherever his Commander was, Nathaniel tried to comfort himself, he had Zevran with him. He couldn't really be in trouble if Zevran was with him. Zevran would never allow it.
"You're absolutely certain?" Alistair asked again, and Nathaniel took another look over the room. Alistair had run for the other Wardens as soon as he'd found the Commander missing and Tainted lyrium- Tainted lyrium, how was that even possible- and then the Wardens had gone to Varric. Nothing had been disturbed from how Alistair had found the room, except for the lyrium being put back in its box. Mhequi and the Voshai were clustered around it, discussing it amongst themselves.
Otherwise, besides the signs of a fight, there was nothing.
"If the lyrium had gotten to one of them, there would be more blood," Varric said. "But there isn't any here."
Other people might have been relieved to find no blood, but Nathaniel found it profoundly disturbing. No blood meant that whoever the Commander had ended up fighting, he hadn't been able to land a blow. And judging by the amount of damage to the room, it hadn't been a very long fight, either. Someone had snuck up on the Commander, and Sergeant Tabris, and Zevran; and now they were all gone.
"It's spooky," Sigrun said, and he looked down at her.
"I don't like it."
"I'm not too worried about the Commander," Sigrun told him. "He always comes home. But- Tainted lyrium? They never said anything about that in the Legion, and we should know. Rocks can't catch Taint, or else we'd all have been dead hundreds of years ago."
"Lyrium is not rock," Mhequi said.
"Welll, no, you're right. It's a sort of mineral-"
Mhequi cut her off with a scoffing 'hn' and Nathaniel could imagine, now that he'd heard her speak in the Fade, the wealth of words she was condensing into that one sound.
"Alive things become Tainted," she said. "Humans, elves, dwarves, animals. Spirits, demons, gods."
"And that's why lyrium shouldn't-"
"Not listening," Andreas said. "You say, 'lyrium grows', yes? Alive things grow."
"It's a figure of speech," Nathaniel told him. "It's not literally true."
"Ach," Rhannur beseeched the ceiling. "Help us about foreigners."
"Lyrium grows," Mhequi maintained. "Lyrium sings. Lyrium is magic. Magic for alive things. Lyrium-"
Her expression got frustrated, and she gestured at Lockhard before going off in Voshinnen.
"Uh- lyrium is the most potent physical embodiment of the Fade," Lockhard translated. "The Fade, as the origin point of all magic, being the plane upon which thought and feeling and all other things which we, from our perspective, label 'immaterial' have a life of their own; and also being the place where our souls can truly be in- uh, this isn't an idiom that really translates, sorry- 'in harmony with the melody of the warp of the universe'; is a vital component of the objective universe. Lyrium bridges the gap between our world and the Fade in a similar manner to mages, because magic is in the blood and lyrium is the, uh, 'the blood of the world', the earth, the stone-"
"'The Stone'," Andreas corrected, emphasizing the particular dwarven twist that changed the significance in Trade.
"-and just as blood and the Stone are living things and carry the memory of- who they were? Sorry, just a second-"
He consulted Mhequi. Nathaniel didn't know what was being said, but tone carried past language, and Lockhard obviously didn't believe what he was being told.
"What?" Nathaniel asked.
"Is literal," Mhequi told Lockhard with a pointed glare, and turned to Nathaniel. "You know. You saw. The Stone remembers. Memories for alive things. Memories for minds. We remember. The Stone remembers. Fade remembers. Lyrium remembers, because Fade and Stone. Lyrium sing what it knows. Voshai listen. We learn what others forget, not notice."
"Great," Alistair spoke up. "Can your singing 'living' lyrium tell us where Theron went?"
"No," Mhequi told him, irritation clearly written across her face. "Not listening. All the things alive. The Stone alive, lyrium alive- how else golems? How else magic change things? If Stone not alive, if lyrium just magic, then how golems?"
"You need a lot of magic," Alistair said. "If that's not hurting anyone right this second and you can't fix it, close the box and come help look."
"Foreigners," Mhequi spat, but closed the box for the red lyrium and got up to look for more signs of their missing people.
They split up to search the estate. Varric suggested the possibility of tunnels in the cellar, so Nathaniel took Alistair and Sigrun and went with him.
"They go everywhere under the city," Varric told them, when they found said hypothesized tunnels. "There's probably a dozen ways to Darktown and Lowtown from here. Maybe even out to the docks or the Wounded Coast. This high up, you can get almost anywhere if you tunnel long enough."
"So they could have gone anywhere," Nathaniel said glumly, and looked down the branching tunnels in the vain hope that some sort of trail sign or Warden Roads marking had been left behind to indicate the path they'd taken. "And anyone could have come up this way to the estate without being seen."
"Not just anybody," Varric disagreed. "Somebody who knew this place was deserted. These tunnels were boarded over, and now the boards are gone. Someone's been watching this place."
"Bandits?"
He shrugged.
"They're not usually so forward-thinking. But the Carta, maybe."
"Why would the Carta-" Nathaniel started to ask, and then stopped himself. No, of course the Carta would have had a reason to drag them off. If they'd claimed this estate, then the Commander and the others had been on the Carta's ground, and fair game for torture or intimidation. But-
"The estate hasn't been robbed, and there's plenty of valuable things here," Sigrun said before he could bring it up. "The only reason not to take and sell any of this is if you've already got all the money you want, and bandits or the Carta never have enough."
Nathaniel was about to suggest lyrium smugglers, since the estate was close to the Chantry; but then remembered that the red lyrium had been left behind.
"Maybe they were after something worth more money?" Alistair asked. "Ransoming nobility can be profitable."
"No one looks at an elf and thinks 'nobility'," Nathaniel said. "They'd have to know who he was. He was even wearing his armor today. But who tries to ransom Wardens?"
"What if it's not for ransom?" Alistair suggested. "What if it was the Crows? Zevran was worried about being recognized, and if anyone could sneak up on him and drag off Wardens without a trace- it would be assassins, right?"
Oh, Andraste, it had better not have been the Antivan Crows. Nathaniel knew he wouldn't be able to handle that, and it was very unlikely that they'd find either the ship they'd taken or wherever they'd holed up before they got their missing people back in pieces- if they ever saw hide or hair of them ever again.
"They'd have left something if it was the Crows," Varric said. "They like people knowing when they're responsible. Mysterious disappearances might work in Antiva, but here they would have left feathers. You didn't find any feathers, did you?"
They hadn't, which meant they were out of leads again.
"Maybe they just… walked off on their own?" Alistair suggested. It was a weak idea, but else was there?
Sigrun brightened.
"The Commander would have gone looking for more of this red lyrium himself, that's like him!"
"Except the person who bought that idol could be anywhere in Thedas," Varric said. "There's no reason for it to still be in the city."
"But it could be, couldn't it?" Sigrun asked.
"Let's go get Fen," Nathaniel sighed, and tried not to worry. "Maybe he'll pick up a useful scent trail down here."
Zevran woke to darkness and the stuttering sound of Theron's panicked breathing. It wasn't the first time he'd woken to this, but it was the first time in a long time he'd done so while lying on stone.
And the first time he'd done so while chained and blindfolded.
Well, this was never a good sign.
He forced himself to keep his breathing even and his body limp and still, feigning unconsciousness as he concentrated on his other senses. The air was cool and dry, sound echoed, and he ached. The arm he was lying on had gone numb. Cave?
He tried to remember how he'd gotten here. He'd been holding the lyrium, Theron had gone frantic and demanded he put it back, and then a mage had stepped into the doorway and leveled a spell at them and- nothing.
They weren't usually so badly-prepared to handle mages. Zevran tried to think who they'd made angry enough to hire an apostate to come after them, but then there was a rustle of cloth, silk sliding on stone, and Theron whined in fear.
It was an intimately familiar sound to anyone who'd gone through Crow training. Someone had gagged Theron, but almost certain left him without a blindfold so he could see what was about to happen.
Three seconds ago Zevran had been prepared to deal with anything and everything. But they had Theron and Theron was making that little noise, almost a sob, of someone who knew they were going to be hurt and hurt horribly and no one was going to save them-
He had to pretend to be unconscious until he knew what was going on. Anyone who touched his Warden could die an awful, painful death later.
"I'm not certain anyone has ever tried this on a Warden before."
A woman, accented Trade. Something vaguely familiar. Nevarran? No. He knew Orlesian and Antivan and Rivaini and Fereldan accents quite well, and an Ander accent was much more distinctive. So if not Nevarran- Tevene.
"I think you will make a good bodyguard. And such opportunities- a child of Arlathan, waiting on my every whim! I will be the envy of Minrathous. No one can keep an adult of your kind for long, but you-"
A silence, and Zevran strained to hear anything recognizable. At the end of it was the pop of a cork being pulled from a vial. He tried not to imagine all the things that could be in it, and failed utterly. He was too good at his former job.
"-and a matching set, even," the woman murmured. "A guard for the student and a guard for the master. He will have to recognize me then, when I come home with his runaway and one of Arlathan's for my very own. And a pretty she-elf for the stadium and a gorgeous male one. I wonder if I should keep him, or offer him to Danarius."
He knew that name he'd heard it-
A matching set. Fenris. They'd been caught by Tevene slavers.
"Oh you don't like that, do you! What is he to you, elf?"
Don't answer, Zevran begged Theron silently. For the both of us, don't answer.
But the woman had apparently meant it was a rhetorical question, because it didn't sound like Theron's gag had been removed.
"Now, what shall I call you?" the woman wondered aloud. "If you're good, I'll let you keep your name. But you have to be good. No trying to escape, no trying to hurt any of us, no trying to kill yourself. You're mine, you understand?"
Nothing, but Zevran could hear the gag being removed.
"Answer me!"
"Yes," and Zevran's heart broke because Theron should never sound like that, should never answer in a sob, in fear and disgust and defeat.
"Properly," the woman demanded. "'Yes, I understand, Mistress'."
"Yes, I understand, Mistress."
Theron should never call a human that, should never call a Magister that. He was Dalish.
"'I will devote my life to you, Mistress'."
She was enjoying this and Zevran was going to take it out of her skin.
"I will devote my life to you, Mistress," he heard Theron repeat, and for a wildly inappropriate moment he was irrationally jealous that Theron wasn't saying that to him.
"Good. Now tell me what you know about Fenris."
"He wants to kill Danarius."
"A given," the woman said, words cold. "He will have to be corrected. Why are you living with him? Don't lie to me! We've been watching him for longer than you've been in this city, but suddenly he trusts you?"
"I told him I would lie about him being a Warden so he'd be left alone, and that I'd help him kill Danarius."
"Well," she said, and that was a bad tone. "Well well well well. We can't be having that. Tell me who the male is to you."
Oh no don't, don't, whatever she's threatening you with Theron don't-
"'Ma vhen'an, 'ma'len, 'ma'sal'shiral-"
Why, Theron?
"In Trade!" the woman snapped.
"My home, my other self, my soul's-"
"Hah," she said quietly; and then louder: "Remember. No escaping, no attacking, no suicide."
Click of a lock, clank of chains- she'd let him out? But-
Footsteps coming towards him. He faked startling awake when the blindfold was ripped off him. The woman who'd been talking turned out to be the mage from the estate, and he wasn't very surprised about it. There was a knife on the floor next to his head, just within his field of vision, which she must have just put down to grab his blindfold. The edge of it was bloody. She was still holding a small stopped vial of blood in her other hand, between thumb and forefinger, where she could tilt it to catch the little light in the cave, or make the blood within flow about.
Theron was standing some feet away, staring in utter despair, silently weeping. He still had his armor and his sword and his shield, but he wasn't even trying to look for an opening to use them.
The Tevene woman set another small glass vial down with a quiet clink on the stone floor, next to the knife; and Zevran noticed that the back of Theron's hand had been cut open.
"Fill it," she ordered Theron, and he walked over, dropping to his knees and picking up the knife.
Zevran could get out of rope, but chains were something else altogether. If he hadn't woken up when this woman had been around, he might have been able to get to his lockpicks. He could tell that no one had searched him, and they could have fought their way out of this together, but now there was no time.
He lunged up when Theron took the knife in hand and kissed him, because nothing he could do here would break a blood mage's compulsion.
"It's all right," Zevran murmured against his lips, and felt the bite of the blade.
It really wasn't, but it had to be said, while he still could.
Fen did pick up a trail in the tunnels, and for the second time today Alistair found himself organizing the tactics of a search party.
He would have liked to have had Varric along, but the dwarf had bowed out to go back to Hawke's and lend emotional support. Alistair couldn't begrudge him that.
What he hadn't been expecting was for Anders to step up and offer his knowledge of Kirkwall's undercity.
"How do you know about these tunnels?"
"I'm down here a lot?"
"They all look the same!"
"All right, all right. I may be deeply involved in smuggling Gallows escapees and apostates out of the city."
"Anders!"
"No, don't you even try that! You have no idea-"
"Captain," Viktory cut in. "Now isn't the time."
"We're going to talk about this later," Alistair promised.
So it was him and Anders up front with Sigrun and Fen; the Voshai, Fenris, and Viktory in the middle; and Nathaniel watching their backs in case of an ambush. They wound through the tunnels and found no signs of the Carta, or lyrium smugglers, or bandits, or weird cultists which why.
"Don't ask me why Kirkwall has so many cults," Anders said. "And they're all violent, too."
"I hate this city," Alistair said to himself.
"I'd like to go home after this," Sigrun agreed.
"Seconded!" Nathaniel called from the back.
"We're veering off… northeast," Anders told them when they passed the next intersection. There was graffiti here, angular murals in the Kirkwall style, which meant there was lots of screaming and unpleasantness involved. This was such a charming place. "Towards the Wounded Coast. We'll definitely be running into bandits and slavers soon, in groups. Be watchful."
Alistair had no idea what Theron had been thinking when he'd run off this time, but it had better be something good or he was going to get the yelling lecture again. Pulling this once had been more than enough. He could have left a note.
"Actually," Anders continued. "We definitely should have run into someone trying to kill us by now. It's too quiet down here. I don't like it."
"I am all for things staying quiet," Alistair told him. "Stop tempting fate-"
There was was a very faint gasp of breath from the rear of the party, and Alistair was turning, sword and shield up, even as he registered someone stabbing Nathaniel through the ribs. That was an assassin's sound-
A sword skittered off the side of his armor and a knife caught a chink, slipping partway through the space between plates before his turn back around changed the angle and sent the knife flying. He smashed his assailant against the wall with his shield and moved on reflex to angle away from the kick aimed at his crotch, practice making that avoidance into a move that placed more of his weight behind the shield to keep his attacker pinned. This was the only way he'd found that would let him reliably win at a sparring match against-
"Zevran?"
The Magister had left, and taken Theron with her, and Maker and Creators he didn't care that she'd given him the same bounds as Theron, he was going to come up with a way to get her killed. Blight take all blood mages and the entirety of the Tevinter Imperium!
Zevran made himself breathe and think. He was absolutely abysmal at this, now. He knew he would have been able to stand up to this sort of torture- the Magister hadn't named it such, but he knew it when he experienced it- before he'd come to Ferelden, but caring about people made it so hard to detach. He wasn't cut out for this sort of thing any longer, and knowing all the ways to hurt someone and that slavery in Tevinter was the absolute pinnacle of Dalish nightmares- he had to stop thinking now.
They were going to get out of this, because it was unacceptable to do otherwise. He'd skated by on technicalities when given orders with the Crows, and he could do it here.
No suicide- well, he was nowhere near that point. He had Theron to live for.
No attacking his captors- potentially tricky, but he wasn't in a position to try at the moment anyhow.
No escaping- hm.
The Magister had left him chained, and hadn't searched him or divested him of armor and blades. Apparently she thought that magical compulsions were enough to keep a well-behaved prisoner. So he still had his lockpicks, and if he only wanted out of the chains and not to actually go anywhere- there was no foreign shove on his mind to prevent him from doing it, and he smiled. Loophole number one.
He thought about what number two might be while he got his hands on his picks and got himself out, as quietly as he could. This particular cave had been fitted with a heavy door, but you never knew how sound carried until you tested it for yourself.
He got the manacles on his feet opened and sat there for a minute, still thinking, before standing and going over to Sergeant Tabris.
For a society built on mass slavery, the Tevenes seemed awfully confident in the timidity of their captives. Kallian still had her armor and greatsword as well. Fort Drakon was more secure than this!
Zevran placed a hand over Kallian's mouth before he woke her up.
"We have been captured," he explained quietly, when she tried to tug at the chains. "By a Tevinter Magister using blood magic."
That got her to freeze, and Zevran belatedly remembered the Tevene slavers in the Denerim alienage.
"She took Theron," he continued. "He and I are under a compulsion from blood magic. We cannot try to attack our captors or otherwise escape. But there is nothing about helping anyone else do the same."
He removed his hand from her mouth and went to work on her chains. They came off quickly- it was easier to do on other people.
"Hide," Zevran told her. "Get out if you can. I have no idea what the layout of this place is-"
"I don't need to know," Kallian cut him off, tone grim. "I've fought my way out of strange places full of people trying to kill me before."
Well now.
"Oh?"
She didn't say anything for a moment, and he thought she wasn't going to elaborate, but then-
"Did you hear about what happened in Arl Vaughn's estate, just before the Blight?"
"A number of elvhen women, including the brides, were kidnapped from a wedding, and the grooms took exception. They stormed the estate to rescue the women. One was killed, the other caught in the alienage and executed."
"Nelaros was the one who died," Kallian told him. "He was supposed to marry me. I didn't want to get married, but he didn't deserve that. My cousin Soris was the one they executed, but it should have been me. They broke into the estate to get my sword. Everyone in the alienage knew I'd learnd from my mother, and that I was decent with one. I was the one who killed all those humans. Soris just took the fall for me, because he refused to put me back in a situation where shem men could try to rape me again."
This explained a lot.
"Get that door open and I'll see what difference real martial training makes in my body count."
Zevran liked her. When they got out of this, he was telling Theron to promote her.
The door opened onto a side tunnel- this room couldn't have been originally meant to hold captives, because no one put a prison at the end of a tunnel with a turn that was just perfect for an ambush.
Kallian noticed it too, because she looked back at him hopefully.
"You're sure you can't come?"
"Unfortunately," Zevran said. "Go. Get out, and bring the others."
He left the door open behind her because there was no point in pretending he wasn't responsible for this. It also left him able to hear the sounds of battle joined as Kallian started taking down slavers- or, at least, he hoped that was what he was hearing.
When the Magister came back, he was sitting just inside the doorway, because he had a point to make. It didn't go unnoticed.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" she sneered at him, and pulled out the vial of his blood. "Clearly mere compulsion isn't enough."
Zevran didn't like the sound of 'mere' compulsion, but he refused to regret this.
Magic snapped across the surface of the glass vial.
In his mind, something else snapped.
"Find your other companions and kill them," she ordered; and yes, of course he would, with all his skills. "Bring me back their heads, all but Fenris. Him, capture. Make him watch what happens when he thinks he can have friends. Tell him that Hadriana sent you. Do this and I'll let you see your Dalish again; and together we'll find out how much he likes having a blood thrall for a lover."
"Anders!"
"Just hold him there!" Anders yelled back at Alistair. "He got Nathaniel in the lungs, he needs me more!"
Nathaniel tried to say something, but punctured lungs wouldn't let him.
"Stop," Anders ordered him, and tried not to sound desperate about it. He'd only just gotten his friends back, he wasn't going to lose Nathaniel- not so soon, not like this. "No talking, not even after you're healed."
When he'd been just a Warden, he wouldn't have been able to handle this. But Kirkwall had taught him about emergencies, and while it wouldn't be a simple, one-step healing, he could do the first, most vital part fast. The important thing was to get those punctures closed and the new tissues strong enough for Nathaniel to start coughing up the blood pooling in his lungs.
Anders's surprising reserves were much more useful here than they had been against the blood mage. After a couple minutes Anders had helped Nathaniel roll over and support himself on hands and knees as he hacked blood onto the rocks.
"If it starts to hurt again, come get me," he ordered. "Don't be a sodding idiot about it. Lockhard, Viktory, watch him."
"This is getting difficult!" Alistair called, and Anders hurried over.
"Is he hallucinating?" Sigrun asked worriedly. "Has he been poisoned? Some poisons do this-"
"There's no poison," Anders said. He'd only done a surface check, the barest look with his magic, but he could tell that much.
Alistair grunted and leaned more heavily into his shield. Zevran had tried to shove away from the wall again, but Alistair weighed more and had the advantage of being properly braced against the ground.
"It's that lyrium, isn't it?"
"No," Anders said immediately. "I know how that feels, and this isn't it. I'd say demons, because this is Kirkwall, but it doesn't feel like that either."
"He tastes like blood," Fenris said from behind them, and Anders jumped. He hadn't heard the elf come over.
"Funny, I didn't think you'd gotten the chance to get that close. Does the Commander know-"
Zevran turned his head and looked straight at Fenris.
"Hadriana sent me," he said, and Fenris starting cursing angrily in Tevene.
"Someone," Alistair said. "Had better start explaining right now."
"Danarius keeps sending slave catchers after me," Fenris said. "I believe that he's testing me. The largest group yet arrived a few weeks ago, and I was concerned about how I would avoid them. It's why I accepted Arl-Commander Mahariel's offer."
"You should have said!"
"Yes, I should have," Fenris agreed bitterly. "It seems I've gotten him caught in the crossfire. Hadriana kidnapped them. She is Danarius's apprentice, and an accomplished blood mage in her own right."
Oh, Void.
"I've seen this done before," Fenris continued. "She's made him a blood thrall. It would be a mercy to kill him now."
"We're not going to kill him!" Alistair exclaimed. "We're going to fix him."
"I have never heard of such a thing."
"Yeah, well, blood mages wouldn't want to spread it around, would they? Of course it can be broken- oh Andraste's flaming sword will one of you rogues get over here and tie Zevran up already!"
"We don't have any rope," Sigrun pointed out. "And it's Zevran. He'd just escape."
"I can put him to sleep," Anders offered. "But with it fighting blood magic, I don't know how long it will hold."
"Just do it," Alistair told him. "So long as he's out long enough to get him back to the estate and tie him up, we'll worry about the rest later."
Anders put him to sleep, and Alistair shouldered his shield with a little sigh of relief, massaging his arm in an attempt to get some feeling back in it.
"I'd say send Nathaniel back with him," Anders said. "But Nathaniel shouldn't do much for a while. And if we're going after a Magister, we'll need everyone we can get."
"Can Nathaniel walk on his own?"
"I'd rather he not, but having him in a fight would be worse."
"All right," Alistair said. "Um- hm. Sod this, sod everything- Mhequi, follow the Roads markings we put down back and don't let Nathaniel be stupid. Get Zevran tied up in Fenris's place and we'll be back with Theron and Sergeant Tabris."
Who are probably blood thralls as well, Anders thought darkly. And to think that the day had started off so well. What were they going to do if the Commander was a blood thrall, as well? How were you supposed to fix something like this? How were they going to explain this?
They waited for Mhequi to take Zevran and Nathaniel back up the tunnels before regrouping, now into a more battle-ready formation. Anders and Viktory moved forward, just behind Alistair, Fenris, and Fen, with orders to immediately go after Hadriana. They advanced slowly, much more cautious now, and Anders's stomach twisted at the thought of encountering an ambush in the form of the Commander, but they passed without incident until suddenly, around the next turn, they could hear metal on metal and jeering voices.
"Tevene," Fenris hissed. "They're having a duel- forcing someone to fight. Blood sport."
Well, this was it. Here they went-
"One of you give me a lyrium potion," Alistair said, and what?
"Captain!"
"I've fought a lot of blood mages and a lot of thralls but if you think, Warden Arend, that I am going anywhere near a Tevinter blood Magister without the ability to smite her, then you are severely mistaken!" Alistair shot back. "I know the risks here and I know it's going to be awful afterwards but some things are worth it so one of you give me a blighted potion!"
This was pure insanity, but Anders was not above admitting to himself that this was an instance where he'd actually feel a little safer with a Templar around. He handed over one of his before Viktory could argue about it more.
Alistair downed it in one go and doubled over, hissing in- that wasn't pain, really, but it had been a nasty shock to his system.
"Maferath's mercy lyrium potions really are that strong. Flames."
"Are you going to be all right?" Anders asked.
"Not in a couple of hours. But by then we'll be dead, enthralled, or well away from here, so-"
Alistair adjusted the grip on his shield, bringing it up a bit higher and more in front of him.
"-everyone ready? All together now-"
Anders took a deep breath and joined in the battle cry.
"For the Grey Wardens!"
She'd almost made it out. She might have, if she'd pushed a little harder, but she'd made the choice to go for 'permanently down' rather than 'down for now' so that she wouldn't have slavers getting back up and coming after her again, giving her more opponents to fight at once, but it had cost her minutes she could have used.
And now she was surrounded, the Magister Zevran had told her about standing outside the ring of slavers penning her in.
"I see I was right about one thing," she said. "You are gladiator material."
She said something in Tevene, and the slavers expanded their ring some. It was enough to give her room to maneuver, but not enough for her to have space to rush between them.
"Darling, go test the girl. She needs to learn a lesson about trying to escape. Just don't kill her. You're both too valuable for such a waste."
Two slavers stepped apart, and the Arl-Commander walked into the ring. Kallian took a steadying breath- blood magic, all right. Fight the Arl-Commander, well, she'd have to try. What choice was there?
She took another look as the Arl-Commander squared up, because something was off about the movement of it- oh.
He tried to hit her with his shield, taking the initiative in an attempt to catch her off balance, but she stepped out of the way and swung down at his arm, hoping she wouldn't cause too much damage if it connected. Kallian had seen his face, and it held no trace of his usual calm self-assurance against an opponent. It was all fear, some despair, and his eyes were red from crying. That was not a frame of mind at all conducive to dueling, and she was going to take advantage of it and apologize later. He'd been ordered not to kill her, and while she wasn't going to try to kill him, this was as big an edge as his clear reluctance to fight her. He might be under a compulsion, but Kallian was sure he could fight better than this.
They circled each other, and she had no idea if it was deliberate or not, but the Arl-Commander seemed to be taking 'learn a lesson' as license to attack offensively, and it was leaving big holes in his defense. Under other circumstances, she was certain they wouldn't be there; but right she took advantage of them, thwacking him heavily with the broad side of her blade as often as possible. It would bruise badly, but it was unlikely to break anything, not the way she was going about it. And if she rattled him enough, maybe-
His shield came up flat in front of him, and Kallian narrowed her eyes, trying to work it out. It shouldn't have stayed in this position for as long as it had, and wait she could use this, if only they were in the right position-
The shield came down and his sword came up, and Kallian decided to take the chance. She caught the Arl-Commander's sword on her own instead of dodging and shoved forward, forcing him to step back out of her range. He was maybe two steps away from the edge of the ring, and sure enough the shield came up flat in front of him again.
Either this was deliberate or the Arl-Commander was too scared of what he'd do under compulsion to really fight. Kallian lunged towards him and hit the shield with her full weight, shoulder first, sword held over her other side. The Arl-Commander wasn't braced properly and he went sprawling, falling backwards into the slavers and taking a couple with him. Kallian made the swing she'd prepared before bowling the Arl-Commander over and her greatsword scythed out in an arc, taking out the slavers who were trying to fill the gap.
She jumped over the fallen humans and ran for the tunnel entrance.
"For the Grey Wardens!"
Never mind turn around!
The other Wardens rushed past her and magic was flying towards the Magister who was trying to get a barrier up in time and-
The Arl-Commadner was back on his feet and coming for her.
For a minute, Kallian tried to figure out why he was still fighting her. Surely there were more dangerous targets the Magister would want him to go for.
Well, wait- obviously. She hadn't ordered him to do that, and if he kept coming after her then it kept him from fighting his Wardens.
She could give him this, Kallian decided, and went back on the offensive.
Sigrun wasn't totally certain what the battle plan for getting the Magister was, but before they could deal with her they had to get through her lackeys.
It was sadly apparent that these Tevenes hadn't fought a dwarf before; or if they had they'd fought someone like Oghren, the stereotypical example of a dwarven berserker. They just weren't used to guarding against knives at knee-height, and she was happy to show them why they should. She and Fen were throwing them off, which was good news for everyone else. Andreas and Lockhard were fighting together, deadly with three swords between them. Rhannur was off on his own, taking out archers. Anders and Viktory were holding down the Magister as Alistair and Fenris tried to plow a path through to her and fire that was fire!
No one had said anything about another mage, and Sigrun quickly checked Anders. He was still firing off spells at the Magister, but he kept glancing over at the other mage, obviously wondering if he could be spared to take the other woman out. As she looked, ice shot up in front of him and Viktory, who twisted to retaliate with a simple arcane bolt at yet another hidden mage, breaking off her attack on the Magister. Anders wouldn't be able to get away now.
"Fen," Sigrun said, finishing off her latest fight. "Get the one Anders was watching."
The mabari growled and pelted off. Sigrun went the other way, drawing on her best rogue stealth, and managed to surprise the mage with severed tendons behind the knees and knife in the back of the skull on his way down, which gave her a moment to breathe and reevaluate the fight.
Fen had gotten his mage as well and now had a slaver Rhannur had downed by the leg, trying to tear it off. Lockhard and Andreas were badly surrounded, but as she watched Alistair and Fenris reached the Magister. Alistair smote her, Fenris started glowing, and Anders brought fire down on a knot of slavers trying to tie up Lockhard's swords. Viktory was rushing forward with Rhannur, Alistair and Fenris together should be enough for the Magister, and-
Sergeant Tabris was fighting the Commander.
"She's got him under a compulsion!" the Sergeant yelled when she was Sigrun coming over. "She ordered him to fight me- teach me a lesson!"
Oh, Ancestors, they really had lost the Commander. What was she supposed to tell Oghren? How were Alistair and Nathaniel and Anders going to deal with this?
Sigrun got behind the Commander and tried to trip him. It didn't quite work, and all three of them ended up tangled together, almost falling. Sergeant Tabris was quick enough to get out of it, and the Commander could match her elvhen reflexes, but there was still a second where he was distracted.
She used it to smack him in the small of the back with the pommel of one of her knives.
"Hey, Commander!" she yelled up at him. "Leave her alone; come and get me!"
"Warden Sigrun-!"
The Commander turned to face her and Anders stepped up behind him, hand outstretched and glowing white-blue.
"Sleep," he ordered, and caught the Commander as he fell.
Sergeant Tabris let her sword drop, looking relieved.
"There are chains in the room we were in," she told them. "I don't know where the keys are, but Zevran got me out of mine. He's still in there."
"No, he's not," Anders told her. "The Magister made him a blood thrall. If I hadn't been there, Nathaniel would be dead."
"If Alistair didn't spar so much with Zevran, we'd all be dead," Sigrun put in. "But we caught him and we're going to fix him."
"You can fix this?" Sergeant Tabris asked. Behind them, Fenris roared in fury and a staff clattered against the stone. That sounded like the end of that fight.
"Well, maybe," Sigrun said. "No one knows how yet, but we're going to figure it out!"
They just had to.
They were back at Fenris's estate, and Alistair wanted nothing more than to sit down and let the world go on without him for a while, but he still had an hour or two on the lyrium potion. There were things that needed to be handled before the Wardens were down their entire command structure, because Anders refused to let Nathaniel do anything and Theron and Zevran hadn't snapped out of the blood magic when Fenris had killed Hadriana. Alistair had been hoping they'd get lucky, but of course not.
At least, under Fenris's direction, they'd located the keys for the chains, the vials of blood that were binding Theron and Zevran, and Hadriana's books on blood magic. Alistair had been all for smashing the vials and burning the books, but Fenris had stopped him.
"You really think it is so simply to free a thrall?" he'd demanded. "It's been tried before. Smashing them does nothing but make things worse. The books might actually be useful."
Neither Viktory or Anders could read Tevene. Fenris couldn't read at all, apparently, so Alistair had told Andreas to read Hadriana's books out to Viktory. No one had been very happy about it, but blood magic had done this and they'd likely have to understand how it worked before they could do anything to get rid of it.
Anders would have been in on the book reading, but he was still watching over Nathaniel's healing, and Alistair also needed him for something else.
"Do you know what to do for lyrium withdrawal?"
"You know, they really discouraged us from knowing anything about that in the Circles."
"Right," Alistair said. "Well, in an hour or two I'm going to have burned through all of it, and I took a lot, so it's going to be really bad. I'm going to go into cold sweats, I'll run a dangerously high fever and swing between hot and cold flashes. I might breathe badly; I'll definitely vomit a lot. I'll get shaky and twitchy and won't want to eat or drink anything. I'll be irrationally anxious and nervous. I might get paranoid and try to hurt you. Oh, and things might get bloody- I mean my piss, that's normal. The only things you can really do are keep me drinking- water when I'm hot and warm broth when I'm cold- and keep the fever from killing me. All this could be over by tomorrow morning, or it could go on for days."
Anders looked deeply perturbed.
"Does this happen often?"
"It happens to anyone who's taken lyrium and then stops," Alistair told him. "But eventually you can't take enough to hold off the effects, and this is how you die. Slowly, and your mind goes with it. When people talk about Templars retiring, that's what they mean. Personally, I think Wardens get a better deal."
"We just get these blinding awful headaches-"
"Yeah, well, you mages are lucky that way. And there's a lot I'd give to know how the Voshai do what they do with lyrium and avoid all this."
Anders didn't want him to leave the estate, but Alistair had things to take care of. He still had to appoint Sigrun to temporary command before Anders would let him leave, and that cost him five minutes.
The Viscount couldn't see him when he went up to the Keep, so Alistair left a brief letter to the Seneschal to inform the Viscount that the Taint source had been found and contained, but that there'd been an Incident with a Magister as part of it and, consequently, the Wardens were down their leadership structure, and Sigrun and Anders were in charge until further notice. Also, they apologized for any difficulties they might end up causing Kirkwall with the Imperium, but they weren't actually sorry.
Then he dragged himself to the Chantry with the note they'd found in the stolen Circle books, and some of the books themselves. Alistair felt a little guilty about that, but Anders and the Wardens could really use the ones on healing.
Grand Cleric Elthina was not too busy to see him, even if her secretary, Mother Petrice, tried to stonewall him. In the end, he just pushed past her and went into the Cleric's study unnaounced.
"My sincere apologies, Your Reverence," he said. "But I haven't got much time. My name is Captain Alistair of Ferelden's Grey Wardens, and this morning we were involved in a fight with a necromantic blood mage and a bunch of demons. WE found these books smuggled out of the Kirkwall Circle's library-"
He put them on her desk.
"-and this letter to the blood mage from the one who provided the books. One of our mages, Warden Viktory Arend, grew up in this Circle, and identified the hand as First Enchanter Orsino's."
He handed over the letter. The Grand Cleric was staring at him.
"Warden-Captain, this is rightly the business of Knight-Commander Stannard-"
"Forgive me, Your Reverence, but I was a Templar recruit before I was a Warden. I know what lyrium abuse smells like and I can tell from clear across the city. There's some… deep concern regarding the mental state of your Templars here. So I brought this to you."
"This is highly irregular," Mother Petrice complained from behind him. She'd caught up.
"Against, apologies, but I'm on a short schedule," Alistair said. He could feel they lyrium catching up to him and was he even going to make it back ot the estate? No, he wasn't. "Grand Cleric, I'm about to go into pretty severe lyrium withdrawal and I'm a bit worried I'm going to empty my stomach on your carpets, which would be a shame because they're very nice."
"Lyrium withdrawal?"
"Different blood mage," Alistair assured her. 'This afternoon. Took care of it. Tevinter Magister with slavers. Wasn't about to go up against her without a way to, excuse me, smite the shit out of her. It's been a day."
"I'll get someone to take you back to wherever you're staying."
Alistair was pretty sure he managed to give directions before the withdrawal really hit, but he had no idea for certain. Everything was too awful to devote any energy to thinking.
Theron woke up for the second time in a row in chains.
It was dark, but there was a shuttered lantern somewhere behind him, so there was a little light. He wasn't on the floor this time, but on a cot, and was that good or bad because he was certain that Hadriana would only be nice to him if he'd done what she wanted but the last thing he remembered was fighting Kallian and the other Wardens had arrived and if they'd made off with him then why was he in chains again? And where were Zevran and Kallian?
"Sir?"
"Sigrun?"
"I've got some water if you want it, sir, and I'm supposed to go get Anders so he can check you out."
Theron realized that his hands were chained in front of him this time, and that those manacles weren't attached to the ones around his ankles. He could sit up on the cot and take the cup of water Sigrun handed him.
"Kallian?" he asked, as Sigrun got up to leave.
"She's fine, Commander."
"I- I shouldn't see her. The compulsion-"
"We figured, sir, I'll just tell her you woke up."
"And I'm sorry, I didn't want to-"
"Sir," Sigrun said. "Theron. We all know that. It's okay."
It didn't feel okay, being left alone in this dark room, chained up and with the compulsions still weighing on his mind, but he tried to reason with himself. The compulsion to fight Kallian was more than enough to warrant this, and if Anders couldn't fix this when he came down here, well- it was the perfect inverse of their position just yesterday, or maybe it was two days ago now. If Anders couldn't save him from himself, then Theron would be the one asking for death.
Sigrun came back with Anders, who unshuttered the lantern to get more light and started checking him over.
"Can you fix the compulsion?" Theron asked, tense with nerves and fear. At least if he had to die, he'd found Sabrae again.
"We're working on it," Anders told him, and yawned hugely. "We found her books. Andreas and Viktory are going through them."
"You should sleep," Theron said. "But not you?"
"Now that you've woken up, I can sleep. I've been watching Nathaniel to make sure he doesn't relapse and getting Alistair through his withdrawal and I checked Zevran when he woke up. I was just waiting on you."
Zevran, Creators no. If they didn't fix this he'd have to leave Zevran behind. It would break him.
"Nathaniel and Alistair?" he asked. He needed a distraction.
Anders grimaced.
"Alistair took a lyrium potion so he could go all righteous wrath of the Templars on the Magister. It was a stupid decision, but…"
"It really helped."
"It did," Anders reluctantly agreed. "I hate that he did it, but it did. I'm pretty sure he'll live through the withdrawal, thought. It's just a matter of time."
"And Nathaniel?"
Anders shifted uncomfortably.
"Anders, what happened to him?"
If Hadriana had gotten to him, too-
"Zevran helped Kallian escape," Anders told him. He wasn't making eye contact any longer. "The Magister decided to retaliate by making him a true blood thrall, not just leaving him with compulsions. She ordered him to kill us, and he got Nathaniel through the lungs before Alistair got him against a wall. If I hadn't been right there right away, Nathaniel would be dead right now. Zevran's in the next room over. Kallian's watching him because she's the one he didn't react to being in the room with."
She'd taken Zevran. She'd stolen his mind, enslaved him in a way that nothing else could; and only if he'd been strong enough able to fight if he hadn't given her Zevran's blood in the first place-
"You have to save him, Anders. You have to heal him-"
"This isn't something healing can fix," Anders said, tone gentle. "We're working on it, I promise."
"I- I have to see him. I have to."
Anders and Sigrun exchanged a look.
"If I let you out, will you attack anyone?" Anders asked.
"Only Kallian," Theron said. "And I can- I think I have to see her, I'm not feeling urged to go hunt her down."
"I'll ask Kallian to head upstairs for a little bit," Sigrun volunteered, and Anders unlocked him. It was a relief to be out of his physical chains, but it only made the mental ones all the more pressing.
And Zevran- if they couldn't fix the blood compulsion then they'd both have to be killed and at least they wouldn't have to live without each other but Zevran wouldn't be dying himself and he didn't deserve any of this, he should have had a better life, they should have had more time together, Creators please-
Sigrun knocked on the door and told them Kallian was gone. Anders led him out, and both of them stood aside, out of the sight of the door, as Theron went into the other room.
Zevran was much more heavily chained. The other Wardens had kept the connecting chain between hands and feet, and the chain joining his wrist manacles was locked around an iron stand for big, heavy wine barrels, so he couldn't move much. There was a platter with water and soup, but it looked untouched. Zevran was awake, sitting on a chair that had been provided, but looking at nothing.
He hadn't reacted to Theron coming in, and suddenly he understood what Anders had meant, saying that Kallian was the only one Zevran hadn't reacted to.
"Zevran?" Theron tried anyway. It got no reaction, and he walked up to him, touched his face in the soft, gentle way he knew Zevran always melted into.
Still nothing.
"Satheraan?" he said quietly. "Vhenan? Please. I'm here. I'm, I'm sorry I couldn't- I was so scared when she came in I should have tried to do something before she- please, 'ma'len, look at me."
He didn't. Theron got down on the ground and rested his head on Zevran's knees.
"In the days of old Arlathan," Theron began, because Zevran always liked to hear Dalish stories. "When the Creators walked in this world and in our dreams, and the El'vhen outlived the stars, the Hahren who planted the great maples and willows of the forests of Thedas sat beneath the winter-bare branches on the bank of a frozen brook and looked up into the clear night sky. She asked for Falon'din to guide her…"