Title: The Great Escape XXI: The City Of Chains
A/N: I apologize for the delay, folks. Please do review!
)O(
~ Part Three ~
Land...
At last they have reached land. It is the most beautiful sight in the world to her right now, snow-covered and remarkably solid. They are on land. They've made it. The ship, however, is not so lucky.
Most of the vessel has ran aground, but part of it remains half-submerged under water. The impact has drowned several sailors, impaling others. Emma scrambles onto the rocks and sinks down to the frozen earth. It is cold, but no more of a shock to her system than the storm.
That's when she notices Isabela. The pirates stands there, dream-like and grieving; she regards her ship as one might a dead child or perhaps a lost lover.
"Help..." A weak cry reaches them. And that's when Emma realizes her ears are still ringing. It's so very loud here. The waves crash violently against the shore.
"Casavir!" Isabela rushes back into the wreckage before Emma can stop her.
He is pinned beneath a fallen wood beam, what is left of the mast. She cannot even begin to fathom such awful pain. Neither of them are strong enough to pry the beam off, and even if they were, it might just kill him anyway.
"It's...been an honor, Boss."
"Don't say such things, Casavir." the pirate is having trouble keeping her voice from trembling. "You're lying, and if not, you're just scaring me."
"Bitch..." the dying man rasps.
"That's more like it." Isabela forces a smile.
The air leaves his lungs in a strangled sort of gasp, and Casavir ceases to breathe. A captain is nothing without her first mate. She tears her gaze away from his corpse to face Emma.
"Burn it." she orders. "Burn it all."
It finally occurs to her that they are the only survivors.
)O(
Isabela is unnervingly quiet as they stumble their way along the winding paths of the Wounded Coast. Bruises are beginning to form on the darker woman's arms, and she must be freezing in this weather with so little clothes on. The sooner they arrive in the city, the better.
Kirkwall is famously known as the City of Chains. Once of vital port for the Tevinter Imperium in the glory days of the old empire before Andraste's revolt, it was the capitol of the slave trade. The Gallows were its heart. Slaves were brought from across Thedas to work in the quarries. Their masters ran a tight ship, too. In fact, most of the mage-lords couldn't be bothered to even punish their own slaves, leaving everything in the capable hands of their apprentices. Some slaves went their whole lives without ever seeing their real captor. They grew to hate the one who held the whip instead of the one who gave the order.
But history took its course and, in time, the Gallows that had once 'welcomed' boatloads of slaves to an early death fell into disuse. Statues of suffering men and women still remained as silent symbols of the city's dark past. It did not end there, however, because soon mages, whose kind had at one point ruled over these lands, would become subjected to face the very prison they built.
Templars have become the new magisters. A chill runs down her spine as she realizes that the only way to enter Kirkwall proper is through the Gallows. Mages designed it so.
"Just act normal." Isabela advises, and Emma can't stifle the bitter laugh that escapes her. It's like a play. She is an actor. She is to act as through she is normal, not a mage, certainly not a blood mage. I'm sorry, Ser Templar, but there must be some mistake.
"Names?" the templar asks wearily.
"Mae," Emma replies immediately. She can't afford to exist now. "Mae Emmerick."
"Isabela, charmed." the pirate says in a sultry voice, swaying her hips slightly. But her heart just isn't in it, even if her ample bosom definitely is.
"Where have you come from?" he asks next; they tell him Rivain. He raises an eyebrow at that. "Your friend here doesn't look Rivaini to me. Refugee?"
"I hail from Ferelden, yes." Emma answers. "I fled to Rivain during the Blight, and now I want to start anew in Kirkwall."
"We're actually mermaids with legs." Isabela adds. "If you let us into the city, we'll grant you three wishes."
"Uh-huh..." The templar grows indifferent again. "The Chantry requires by law that I ask you to surrender any mages in your company to the authorities. I will only ask once. If one or both of you are suspected of being apostates, we will have the truth, and the Order won't be so merciful then."
"There are no mages here." Emma says too quickly.
"If I were you, miss, I'd consider your response more carefully." He is looking straight at her, like he knows exactly what she is. She swallows hard, and repeats herself.
"There are no mages here, ser." But then the templar draws his sword and steadies its razor sharp point against her heart, which speeds up considerably as magic blooms within her. Emma is more afraid of what will happen if she does defend herself than the alternative. He is baiting her. This is what he wants, for her to slip up and use magic. It's a sick test, but effective. How did he know?
"You're not a very good actress, Surana." the templar hisses in Emma's ear, his blade now positioned uncomfortably on the soft flesh of her neck. "Did you think I would not notice? I was there in the Tower when Uldred's followers took control. They tortured me. Demons clawed at my mind, invading my thoughts and making me question what was real. I still hear the screams. Now I don't know how you and that blood mage managed to escape last time, but I won't let it happen again."
"Ser Cullen!" By this point a sizable crowd has formed around them, all mages and templars since average citizens have little reason to visit the Gallows, least of all for its aesthetic appeal. But the mass of curious onlookers hastily moves aside to let a stern-looking woman pass. "What is going on here, Knight-Captain?"
"Knight-Commander Meredith," he straightens, removing his sword from Emma's throat. "This woman is an apostate!"
'I see." The woman called Meredith steps forward and narrows her eyes. "Well, that cannot be tolerated. Take her to the Gallows!"
Isabela starts shouting something about a heroic rescue, but Emma;s ears are ringing again. She feels dizzy and confused. It's impossible to focus. Cullen grabs one of her arms roughly just as another templar takes the other one. They are dragging her toward a great blackness that seems to go on forever. This is nothing like the Tower.
This is prison.
This is the Void itself.