Chapter 25: The Release

"To clarify, that's a "no" on the sandwich?" Anders asked.

"Orders were to keep you all alive," one of the Tevinter guards snarled. "Be thankful."

"I am thankful!" the mage said, his voice growing louder. "I am also hungry. Do you think this is the first time I've ever been held captive? At least the templars didn't bloody starve you."

"Blondie, be quiet for all our sakes," Varric groaned.

"No, let him continue," came the voice of Sebastian. "It reminds me why I wanted to kill him so badly."

"I chalked that up to repression, Your Highness," Anders replied.

"My patience is limited, monster," Sebastian said.

"Oh hush, you missed me," the mage replied. "You all did, right?"

"Oh, I quite missed the magical agitator living in the undercity," Aveline said. "My job has been far too easy since you ran off."

"You all fought with me," Anders said. "Well, most of you."

The group continued to bicker, the lone exception being Bethany. The Warden had run out of ideas to free herself, and was resigned to bondage. Her brother was as good as dead, and most certainly, so were the rest of them.

"…And I'm pretty sure you had your little spirit friend help you cheat at cards," Isabela was ranting. "Ugh, imagine what he must have been doing whenever you took someone to bed. Actually, now that I think about it-"

"Don't… Don't finish that, please," this time it was Fenris.

"I suppose that demon you let take you over wouldn't want to help us now?" Cullen asked. "Maker, this is not how I expected my day to go."

Anders chuckled. He had given them all the speech about Justice many times before. The spirit, as a separate entity, was long gone. His own hatred, the hatred he had spent the last few years working to contain, had overwhelmed his old friend, effectively absorbed him. The mage had never said it, but part of him had hoped returning to Vigil's Keep and recommitting himself to peaceful work as a healer would somehow cause Justice to reemerge. The guilt he felt for the spirit's fate was nearly as great as the guilt over the people he'd killed at the Chantry.

"I almost hate to ask, but is anyone else getting hungry?" Isabela asked. "Anders wouldn't shut up about it, now I want a sandwich too, dammit. Of course these guards aren't cooperating."

Somebody is actually listening to me, Anders thought. It made him grin. Maybe the guards would cooperate if his old friends would speak up. Those people, with their various talents. Cooperation. The words stuck in his head. He had gotten a quick glimpse of the bonds tying their hands behind their backs before he was dropped in the cell. However strong the bonds may have been tied, even a dwarf could tell there was magic strengthening them. And suddenly, the wheels in his head started to turn.

"Hm, what is this one?"

It was the first voice Merrill had heard since Feynriel had left. It was a woman, probably an older one. She sounded sick.

"What are you talking about?"

This was a male voice. The man's voice was deep, not as deep as Hawke's, but it was the sound of somebody used to giving orders. Merrill hated those types.

"The rocks are out of place up this way," the woman said.

Merrill considered speaking up, but it occurred to her that these were new voices in a mysterious forest. It was, she decided, for the best that she wait.

"Rocks. Out of place." The man chuckled. "Only you, Shale. Urthemiel's waiting, I'll go ahead.

"Very well, Commander."

"Stop calling me that!"

A moment of silence passed, and heavy footfalls approached the spot where Merrill lay bound in vegetation.

"Bloody false modesty," the woman was muttering. "I'll call him whatever I please. You'd think if anyone's opinion about the ground would be listened to, it would be me, right?"

Merrill vainly tried to hold her breath in an attempt to remain quiet.

"Please do not pretend you can't see me," came the Shale woman. Merrill quietly cursed, realizing she was talking to her.

"I can't move my head," Merrill said. She hoped the irritation in her voice would convey enough of a story. The heavy footfalls sped up.

"Well, fair point," Shale said.

Merrill tried clenching a fist. If she could move her hands, she could cast spells and defend herself. But, to her dismay, she couldn't find her staff.

"Is this yours?" Shale asked. "Oh right, you cant' see it. Three-headed rod, pretty looking thing. The swamp witch would probably have lots to say about it. I suppose you'd like to be freed, then?"

"Uh," Merrill was taken aback. She was planning to shout for the woman to keep her hands off of the staff. "Yes, I suppose I would."

Merrill had been expecting a blade to cut through the various roots and vines holding her down, but instead she heard a quick, loud ripping sound, and the pressure of her bonds was gone. Merrill began to stand up, but a large, powerful hand grabbed her and lifted her into the air.

"An elf," Shale said. "I suppose I don't know what else I should have expected."

"I hope you don't hold it against me," Merrill said, dangling from her rescuer's hand, "if I genuinely didn't expect you to be a golem."

"Is that sandwich happening or not?!" Anders shouted. "Blast these bonds. Varric, I'd have expected you to find a way out of them by now."

"Tried it, blondie," the dwarf said. "Turns out these Imperium geeks don't do anything without adding a little magic to it."

"Magic, yes," Anders said. "Nobody could break out of these with the power of the Fade coursing through them. Hard to negate that, am I right? Am I?"

"You're not helping," Varric groaned.

"Neither are you," Anders said. "Not while our hands are tied by magic ropes. Magic is a nuisance, isn't it? Who agrees?"

"Keep complaining, you'll be the first one we drain dry," one of their guards threatened.

"Don't do it before I can," came the voice of Fenris.

"Fenris, what do you do to mages give you trouble?" Anders asked.

A moment passed before Fenris sighed, and the room started to glow.

"You could have just suggested this," the elf said. "Anybody?"

Next to them, Varric smiled, realizing what Anders was getting at. For as much trouble as the mage had caused, he had to give him credit. It was, in hindsight, a simple plan. Simple enough he felt silly for not thinking of it himself. He began to wriggle, and reached again for the knot on his bonds.

"Alright, we brought you some damn food, now open your mouths and quit whining," the guard said as he opened the door. When he entered the cell, carrying a bucket of slop, a body crashed into him and knocked him to the floor. The guard looked up and saw Isabela grinning at him.

"Now," she said. "Mind telling us where are weapons are?"