Varania
Varania thought she would never set foot in the filthy pub again, but here she was, the stench of sweat, sour breath, and cheap ale nearly as strong as she remembered. First thing in the morning she expected at least an improvement in the smell. She was disappointed. Why Hawke chose to meet her companions at The Hanged Man when her own estate was so much more habitable, she would never know.
Hawke led the way to the back of the tavern with Anders at her side and Varania taking up the rear. The Champion stopped at a small alcove where a dwarf was sitting with a familiar-looking rogue in a skin-tight tunic.
"Woah there Hawke, we're full up on crazy here," the woman said as she caught a glimpse of Varania. She had assumed a defensive stance, hands on her daggers.
"It's alright, she'll explain why she's here," Hawke said.
"This oughta be good," the dark-haired human mumbled. Varania was relieved when the woman let her hands relax at her sides, a safe distance from the vicious-looking blades strapped to her hips.
Anders spoke from over her shoulder, "What Isabela means to say, Hawke, is that she is very sorry for being an incorrigible drunken fool last night and owes you her full attention this morning."
The dwarf spoke from across the low table he was sitting behind. "In all seriousness, Hawke, we definitely owe you one. We were both seeing double by the time you showed up last night." The tanned woman gave Hawke an apologetic smile, nodding her agreement.
"It's fine Varric," Hawke said, pulling up a bench and gesturing for Varania to sit at the table with them. "Let them see what you showed us back at my place."
Varania pulled Danarius' book of spells from her robes and flipped to a marked page. She turned the book to face the dwarf they called Varric, while the rogue, Isabela, peered over his shoulder. Varania pointed to a diagram outlined in dark red ink depicting a vial and a halved brain. There were words in Tevinter scrawled under the sketch, with formulas and equations on the opposite page. The ink was smudged, some of the letters bleeding into each other. The effect was rather unsettling. The dwarf curled his lip in disgust, eyes wide.
"Your friend, my brother, has been taken to Hercinia where his master plans to wipe away his memory. I learned a little of Danarius' magic in the Imperium and more during our journey to capture him here. This page details a spell used to erase a victim's memory. The spell uses blood magic. So much blood is required that the magister will often use blood slaves to complete the ritual. I came back to warn you of this."
"Why the change of heart Ginger?" Varric asked, one eyebrow cocked at her.
"I felt guilty enough after my part here three days ago. Danarius was so cruel to Leto-," she paused, "-Fenris after we boarded his ship. I couldn't sit there and watch anymore."
"Why aren't they just going back to the Imperium? What's in Hercinia?" The rogue had stopped glaring at her as though she were a venomous insect, and was now leaning over the book, completely absorbed by it.
"Danarius is seeking a former magister there by the name of Senecus. He is to help perform the complicated ritual. Fenris has already had his memory wiped once in such a manner and Danarius mentioned that it would be more involved a second time."
"We're already a day behind, what if they've completed the ritual already? Fenris might not recognize us?" Isabela's brows were knitted in disbelief.
Anders picked up the spellbook and turned one damp page, "This book details the options that can be taken if this is the case. This particular magic is not permanent if removed quickly. Like any silencing spell or mind control, there is a counterspell," he explained stabbing a finger at another incantation. "The longer you wait to remove it, however, the more difficult it becomes to cleanse."
Varania looked down at the table, tracing the knotted wood with her finger. "I don't know how effective my counterspell will be, I am not fully trained in magic of this kind... but I will try."
"But you have seen it done," Anders pointed out, "and you are the only one here comfortable with blood magic." The mage was looking at Hawke, sharing some unspoken conversation. Isabela and the dwarf, Varric, were looking away from her, both affected by this recent disclosure.
Varania knew these two mages were against blood magic, but they needed her in case Danarius' spell was too powerful to remove on their own. Anders had mentioned that he had barely been able to cleanse the silencing spell that Danarius had cast on Hawke. This did not bode well for their chances of removing the spell Danarius would use on Leto. Anders and Hawke were both powerful, but the spells the magister used were meant to work with blood. It was obvious they were not at ease with the fact that she had embraced this power, but it seemed they were willing to put that aside until Leto was safe.
"Talk about an awkward silence," Isabela said, her eyes glued to the pages of the tome still in front of them.
The dwarf had taken one of his gloves off and was slapping it down on the table repeatedly. He slapped it one last time decisively, before saying, "Well, what are we waiting for?"
"For the Captain to ready her crew of course," Isabela smirked.
"Did you have some sailors in mind?" Hawke asked, already standing up.
Isabela followed Hawke's lead, but then broke off, heading further toward the back of the Hanged Man. "Quite a few men around here owe me a favor or two," she called over her shoulder. "I'll meet you at the Siren's Call in an hour."
Hawke
She wondered why things could never go as planned as she whirled her staff across her body, bringing it down on the forehead of one of the mercenaries nearby. The scraggly bearded man lurched backwards, impaling himself on two wooden spikes that made up part of the barrier separating the dusty path they followed from the ocean below. His eyes seemed to lock as the rest of his body went limp and the rusting sword he wielded dropped from his grasp and plunged into the murky water.
They had nearly made it to the Siren's Call. Hawke could see her tan sails peeking over the roof of the warehouse directly in front of them. Varric had just pointed the ship out to her as this group of thugs had leapt from an alley to their right. There were seven that she had counted, but they were only five strong now.
Suddenly, something whistled past her ear, a bolt from Varric's crossbow. It plunged into the shoulder of a warrior that had begun to charge Varania. Four.
She heard Varric praise his own aim as she began chanting a spell, willing the force toward a hooded assassin who had managed to come within a few yards of Anders. The assailant was staggered momentarily, but recovered quickly enough to close the remaining gap between he and her friend. She sent a shock of lightning at the man, but he had already managed to rip a gash in Anders' upper arm. Anders reeled, clutching his arm. One more spell placed on the mark was enough to cause the attacker to crumple into the dirt. Three.
She rushed to fight near Anders who was vulnerable after kneeling on the ground to tend to his injury. Blood was dripping between the fingers that grasped his wounded arm. He shooed her away with his bloodied hand, already assuming the focused expression that signaled to Hawke that he was about to heal himself. She took the hint that he would be able to handle the gash alone and went to work sending a few frost spells in brutal succession at a remaining archer. Two.
She glanced over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Varania, who was channeling a spell toward a very large warrior trained on Varric. The dwarf had been kiting the man around using disorienting effects, flasks, and all manner of tactics unknown to Hawke. The combatant cursed, trying to remove Varric's pinning shot that held him in place. With no warriors in the party, they were at a disadvantage. Normally Aveline or Fenris fell into the role of distracting the strong melee fighters while the rest of her friends could work at range. It didn't seem to matter this time though, as another bolt from Bianca was let loose, this time sinking into the warrior's thick muscular neck. A gagging cough was all the man managed before he gripped the shaft protruding from his neck and his knees buckled. One.
The last enemy realized his predicament, his eyes flitting between the four of them as he made the decision to flee. He vaulted himself over the barrier of wooden spears lining the edge of the path and dove into the sea. Varric let out a vigorous chuckle as he carefully placed Bianca in her resting place, strapped to his back.
"Looks like he'd rather take his chances with the sharks," the dwarf said walking toward the rest of the group gathered by Anders. "Can't say I blame him. You alright Blondie?"
"Just a flesh wound," Anders said with a sneer.
"Where's Bianca when you really need her, huh?" Hawke teased as she tightened her boots and readjusted her robes which had bunched uncomfortably during the battle.
"Don't bwing his wittle pwecious into this," Anders baby-talked mockingly.
Varric played along, petting his crossbow gently. "Don't listen to them sweetheart."
"Maybe if you'd agreed to let me teach you a thing or two about hand-to-hand combat, you wouldn't have to heal yourself so much," Isabela said as she stealthed out of the shadows.
"Maybe my friends should stop being so fashionably late for battles," Anders quipped, wiping the blood off his hand with a bit of his torn robe.
"I've got five sailors meeting us at the ship any time now. Does that excuse my tardiness?" Isabela asked.
"That depends on how fast they can get us to Hercinia," Hawke said, walking in the direction of the ship. "Let's go."
The rest of Hawke's companions started their way down the path following her. When they were within full view of the Siren's Call, Anders reached out from beside her and caught her by the crook of the arm. "You guys go ahead. I need a quick word with Hawke."
He led her a short way down a small alley behind several seemingly abandoned storehouses. When the other three members of the party were out of sight, Anders drew close to her.
"What is it Anders?" she asked, making her annoyance at the delay more than obvious.
He took her by the shoulders then, and Hawke found herself against the wall of the building, those sad cinnamon eyes boring holes into her hard outer shell. His lips were drawn into a taut line until he parted them to let out a lingering sigh.
"I can't go with you," he said with finality.
"What? But you helped me plan this whole thing!"
"I know, and you will be fine. Please tell the others," he murmured the last few words.
"Anders, I can't- this is too much to do alone," she shook her head, her eyebrows crushed together, questioning, "Why can't you go? What's the matter?" Her words came tumbling out before she could catch them and they seemed to clatter on the ground around her. She wished she could be more articulate, but language always seemed to fall flat when it really mattered.
Not a single line in Anders' expression had changed with her speech, he hadn't even twitched. "You won't be alone, you have a very capable group without me."
She heard a hint of uncertainty there. He wasn't completely sure about this decision, she knew that much. His glistening eyes revealed that he was saddened by the choice, but the hard lines around his eyes indicated some semblance of resolve had formed. Changing his mind might be difficult.
"Bullshit," she said, finally shaking his hands off of her upper arms. "You've been purposely avoiding telling me something for the past few weeks. Does this have something to do with whatever you had us gathering in the sewers last week? For that potion?"
"Hawke, I have to stay here to finish something I'm working on," Anders said, purposely avoiding her direct questions. He always gave her a generic answer when he didn't want to be prodded about something.
"Perfect..." she let her voice trail off into a heavy outward breath, looking away.
She startled when he took her hand. He looked down as he intertwined his fingers with hers, a frighteningly intimate gesture. Before she could pull away he cupped his palm under her chin caressing her cheek. His hands were soft, his touch was light, barely a brush against her skin. He leaned in, placing a tender kiss at the corner of her lips. He didn't pull back right away, instead, he rested his forehead against hers.
"Oh Maker, I wish things could have been different with us," he whispered. The amber flecks in his eyes sparkled as tears welled around them.
"Anders, I-"
He interrupted then, which was appreciated, as she had no idea how to respond. "Take this," he said, removing the hand from her face, and pulling a vial from the pouch at his side. He placed it gently into her free hand. "This was one discovery I made while digging through the research of the Tevinter Magisters. If someone falls during battle, they can be revived. Mix this with the victim's blood before it cools completely and they will be strengthened enough to rise again."
"You really aren't going to tell me why you need to stay?" Hawke pressed.
"You'll find out sooner or later. After you return with the luckiest elf in Thedas," Anders said, finally pulling his hand away.
They walked together silently in the direction of the ship, but Anders turned just before reaching it. He looked back once over his shoulder and she tried to manage a smile for him. If her forced smile looked anything like his, she shouldn't have even bothered trying.
