A Red Templar was kept on constant vigil outside Ellana's cell. She had grown accustomed to the drain on her mana; it was unpleasant, more so at first. It had left her feeling weak, her knees shaking underneath her, but over the course of the time she'd spent in her cell she had become used to it. Staying positive had been a whole lot harder. Cold, dark and hunger were not, by general consensus, great for morale.

With nothing to sit on but the dusty floor and the rough stone walls to her back, it hadn't taken long for the cold to penetrate her leathers. Ellana was normally quite comfortable in cold environments, but that was natural cold; being outside in the frost and snow. Certainly not the damp, stale cold of her cell. This cold seemed to bypass her clothes entirely, it sank into her bones, making them ache. With no natural light it was impossible to even guess how much time had passed since Gessius had left her here. It could have been an hour, several hours, a day, an eternity. There was no way to know.

And the dripping — Gods, the dripping — was driving her insane. Somewhere not too far away, she could hear something dripping. Whenever she tried to lose her situation in a daydream, or plan some method of escape, that dripping would bring her right back, it was maddening. There was some satisfaction to be had in the idea that it was probably annoying her guards as much as it was her, but at least they were rotated and got a few hours of peace from the infernal drip drip drip.

There was, however, one great big silver lining; the Red Templar's mana drain was substantially less debilitating than The Believers thought. Mages fought at range, by keeping their foes at a distance. Mages were, traditionally, controllers of a battlefield, they didn't normally enter the fray physically themselves. Ellana was somewhat of an exception, Cullen had made sure of it. If she had to fight without her magic then she could. Since almost day one of The Inquisition, Cullen had trained her to fight without relying on her magic. On a good day she could give him a run for his coppers. These guys were good, but they weren't him. Not even close.

Watching The Believers fight the darkspawn as they'd travelled the Deep Roads had been good for something, at least. She'd managed to glean a sense of their fighting style. The majority of the heavy warriors fought with brute strength, no finesse or style. They relied on the power they could put behind their blows, but all that power was wasted if they couldn't hit their target. She might have been more concerned if the warrior she'd dubbed her weak link had been one of the nimble rogues, but a sluggish heavy-footed warrior that relied on brute strength, in his heavy armour with a giant two-handed greatsword? That was someone she could outmanoeuvre. He'd show up here eventually, she was sure of it. Without her magic he had no reason not to enter her cell, he'd think her harmless, he'd be cocky, he'd be angry, and he'd have a key. He'd show himself, and she'd show him just how helpless she was. All she needed was one shot, all she'd probably get was one shot, so she needed to make it count. The sooner the better, Ellana had had more than enough of The Believers hospitality.

It seemed the warrior had as little patience as she did, they'd only rotated her guards a handful of times when she heard an exchange of words outside her cell,

"I'm here to relieve you," he said. Ellana's head snapped up from where it had been drooping onto her chest, despite the dripping she'd been very close to falling asleep propped up against the wall. She hadn't heard a voice since Gessius had left, every other rotation had happened in silence, with barely more than an exchange of nods. It could only be him, the weak link. Her heart immediately started to pound harder in her chest,

"I'm not due a shift change for another three hours," the other guard argued. Ellana rolled her eyes, come on, you're being given a few hours off, why are you arguing? Just go! She silently begged,

"They changed the rotation,"

"Nobody told me about this."

"Take it up with the man in charge, I'm just following orders."

A few more minutes of muttered conversation followed, where Ellana sat completely still and listening carefully to every word, until her weak link warrior convinced the other guard to leave. Heavy footsteps and the rattle of armour made their way down the corridor and out of earshot,

"Ugh, finally." Ellana muttered aloud to herself.

She took a moment to close her eyes and steel her nerves. Her hands were still tied in front of her, the few feet of slack rope puddled in her lap, so she wiped her suddenly damp palms on her leathers as best she could and took a few deep breaths. The coin Cullen had given her still hung from its silver chain around her neck, she pulled it from the front of her tunic and closed her fist tightly around it,

Ignore the sword, watch the shoulders and hips. The instructions Cullen had first given her all those months ago rang in her mind. He'd knocked her from one side of the training ring to the other without so much as breaking a sweat in those first few months in Haven as the snow fell and the others watched from the sidelines.

Armour is heavy, and it's strong, you need to be fast, outmanoeuvre them.

Her eyes popped open at the sound of the keys in the lock. She pressed the coin to her lips and tucked it back inside her clothes.

Come on love, you can do this.

Alright, vhenan. I guess we're about to find out just how good of a job you actually did.

Ellana scrambled to her feet just as the door of her cell swung open, the slack of the rope swung with the sudden motion, smacking her in the knees. The warrior was as she remembered him; weighed down by heavy armour, with a huge greatsword strapped to his back. He paused in the open doorway, regarding her silently for a few seconds before stepping inside. The door closed heavily behind him, but he didn't bother to lock it. Ellana felt a small stab of satisfaction; she'd been right, without her magic they thought her defenceless, he'd never have left the door unlocked if he thought otherwise.

His gaze didn't shift from her for a second as he pulled off his armoured gloves and helm and tossed them to the ground. The removal of his helmet revealed a shock of dark brown hair, a long flat nose and a face that was heavily pot-marked and scarred. Dark thick eyebrows were set low over a pair of startlingly pretty green eyes. He swung the large ring of keys around one thick finger before dropping them down next to his belongings.

"It was my brother," he said, his accent was Ferelden and his voice wasn't very deep for a man of his size, it surprised her, but she schooled her features into their neutral mask,

"Sorry? Your brother what?" she asked, feigning ignorance. She kept her back firmly pressed against the wall as he advanced toward her,

"It was my brother that you killed in South Reach," he growled, his teeth already bared in anger. Ellana swallowed; it wasn't going to be difficult to goad him into a physical confrontation, what would be difficult was ensuring that she won. He looked a lot larger this close; easily six feet with broad shoulders.

She refused to let her fear show on her face, butterflies fluttered against her ribcage as she shrugged, "Then maybe, and this is just an idea, just throwing it out there, but maybe he shouldn't have been in South Reach threatening innocent people."

The weak link warrior crossed the room in just a couple of large strides, in less than a second he had his forearm across her throat and was pushing her into the wall. Sharp stone cut roughly into the back of Ellana's shoulders, she suppressed the yelp of surprise and pain that jumped into her throat.

Red rose in the warrior's cheeks, she could see small red veins running like spiderwebs under his pot-marked skin, "Fucking knife-eared bitch! I've put up with your endless talk for days, don't you ever shut the fuck up?" he spat at her, his breath sickening sour and hot on her face,

"Ha, not really, now that you mention it," she somehow managed a laugh, despite the fact that her heart was racing so hard in her chest that she could feel it throbbing in her fingertips, "Being around crazy idiots trying to destroy the world brings out the chatterer in me."

He dropped his arm from her throat and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her forward before slamming her back into the wall with enough force that her head bounced from the stone, "I'm not the one in a dungeon! You've lost, rabbit," his large, rubbery lips pulled back over blackened teeth, "Learn when to shut your fucking mouth!"

Ellana's palms were damp again, she doubled down, pushing the nerves to the back of her mind. He was so furious, it wouldn't take much more, almost there, she just had to keep talking, "Your boss won't be happy if you kill me."

He looked down at her anchor, his lip twisted in disgust, "He only wants what's on your hand, a few bruises, maybe some teeth, one of your eyes..." his gaze wandered across her face as though he were already picturing her injuries, he paused on her ear, "Maybe I'll take one of your ears, little rabbit. Won't make a difference to him."

"Huh," Ellana shrugged, "Good to know, very reassuring."

His face turned even redder, his eyes screwed up and spit flew from his lips to land on her face as he bellowed, "I said shut the fuck up!"

He drove one of his huge fists into her stomach, doubling her over as the air was driven from her lungs. She hadn't caught her breath before the warrior slammed his other fist into her cheek. She hit the ground hard, stars burst behind her eyelids.

Fenedhis! Alright, he hits harder than I thought he would,

No matter how well armoured they are, there are always weak spots, places you can exploit; eyes, nose, throat, jaw. Cullen continued to lecture in her head, Your opponent is almost always going to be bigger and stronger than you are, you need to fight smart. Let them fight with their bodies, you fight with your head. They're stronger, you're smarter. Use it.

Trying to look as though she was merely pushing herself to her feet, Ellana grabbed a handful of the dust and grit that covered the floor of her cell. The warrior hauled her to her feet. With a snarl he fisted both hands onto the front of her leathers, lifting her from the ground as he slammed her back into the wall. One large hand left her leathers, he balled it into a fist and he drew it back over his shoulder to hit her again.

Ellana held her free hand up to stop him, "Wait, no. Please don't hit me. Please, I -" she stuttered, barely letting her voice rise above a whimper, she turned her head to one side to cough, "Don't please. I'll do what you want, but I need to tell you -" she croaked, letting her very real fear make her voice shake as she watched him closely through half-closed eyes. He gripped her leathers in both hands again and brought his face closer to hers to hear her, the moment he did she opened her clenched fist and blew the dust and grit directly into his eyes.

He hissed through his teeth as he reeled back away from her, his grip started to slacken on the front of her leathers. Before he could let go, Ellana locked her arms around his, bent her knees and braced her feet against the wall. With a scream she pushed with her legs and launched herself at him as hard as she could, and brought her forehead down onto his nose. She felt the soft cartilage crunch. Pain shattered her skull and lanced down her neck as his long flat nose exploded, covering both their faces in a shower of scalding, sticky blood. The warrior roared in pain, and Ellana released the lock she had on his arms, dropping back to her feet. She braced one hand on the wall as the world wavered in front of her eyes, her legs felt wobbly underneath her. She rolled her neck and shook the dizziness away,

Never stop moving, Cullen barked in her head, You stop, you die. Move!

"Shit, Bull makes that look so easy."

She squinted up through her piercing headache, rubbing blood from her eyes with shaking fingers. The warrior was still on his feet but he was staggering. Blinded by dust and blood, clutching his ruined nose with one hand while he groped wildly for her with the other. Ellana ducked under his arm and grabbed his unprotected hand, taking two fingers in each of her fists she pulled them in opposite directions as hard as she could. A sickening crack echoed from the walls, bile rose in her throat at the sound making her gag as the warrior shrieked, sounding almost inhuman. He bent at the waist, cradling his injured hand to his chest. As soon as he dropped his head low enough, Ellana drove her elbow into his jaw. The warrior fell face first onto the floor of her cell and didn't move.

Ellana propped her elbows on her knees and took several large, whooping breaths. Black spots danced in her vision, and her stomach was trying valiantly to rid itself of what wasn't there, The Believers hadn't given her anything to eat, something that she was suddenly very grateful for.

Don't stop now, keep going! That Templar isn't going to wait out there forever!

I can't fight if I can't breathe, Cullen.

You can't fight if you're dead, either.

"Alright, that's actually a good point," she muttered aloud.

She straightened, the world span around her, she closed her eyes until the sensation passed then quickly checked herself for injuries. The warrior had knocked the wind out of her, but luckily hadn't damaged any of her ribs. He'd also reopened the wound on her cheek that she'd sustained in South Reach — that damn cut is going to leave one heck of a scar after all this — but she wasn't losing too much blood, at least not yet. Lastly, her head still rang from where she'd headbutted him, but she was fairly sure she didn't have a concussion. It could certainly have been a lot worse.

The next thing she had to do was to rid herself of the rope that still hung from her wrists. The weak link's sword was still strapped to his back. She eyed him warily; he wasn't moving, but little clouds of dust lifted from the floor whenever he breathed, so she hadn't killed him. Carefully she nudged his leg with her foot, the leg was like dead weight, and he still didn't move. Angling herself to stay as far away from his hands as she could, Ellana held her breath as she slipped the slack of the rope under the blade and pulled. The warrior had taken good care of his weapon; it cut through the rope like butter. She was tempted to take the sword with her, but it was longer than she was, it would only weigh her down. A dagger glittered at his hip, she took that instead. She cut the excess rope that dangled from her wrists before scooping up the keys and pushing them deep into her pocket.

"Alright," she whispered to herself, "So far so good. Just the Templar to go."

It was a wonder the Templar hadn't come to investigate already, it made sense that the warrior had told him to ignore sounds of shouting or cries of pain, but the sudden quiet must be making him suspicious by now. On silent feet she approached the door and lifted up onto her toes to peer through the small barred window. The Red Templar hadn't budged. He was exactly where he'd been the last time she'd checked; just to the left of the door. Ellana smiled to herself, this was almost too perfect. Palming the dagger, she placed both hands on the door and pushed with all her weight behind it. The door flew open with a crash, pinning the Templar between the hard wood and the wall. Before he could push back, Ellana flicked the dagger up and pushed it through the small window and straight into the Templar's eye. He immediately slumped to the ground, death throes making his legs twitch and his heel tap a rhythm on the floor. As soon as he fell, Ellana felt her mana slowly start to return,

"Oh, thank the Gods," she muttered, wiggling her fingers experimentally and watching the small branches of lightning jump and arc between her fingers. Her magic would have to be used sparingly, but it was better than nothing. She was also going to need a better weapon, preferably before The Believers noticed that their pet Inquisitor had escaped, she'd trade just about everything she owned for her staff. Unfortunately, she couldn't rely solely on conveniently placed doors,

"Which means I can't leave you lying here," she said to the dead Templar. Being very careful not to touch any of the crystallised red lyrium protruding from his skin, she grabbed him by the cloak and dragged him into her recently vacated cell. After dumping him unceremoniously next to the unconscious warrior, she retrieved her stolen dagger, stepped back out into the hall, closing and locking the door behind her.

So, now what?

They say the journey of a lifetime starts with a single step.

Alright, vhenan, let's see how far we get.