Chapter 36: The Prisoner
"Your abilities are impressive, boy. Yet, they will not save you. Everything you possess, everything you try to horde for yourself will soon belong to the mage rebellion."
The Enchanter smirked down at him. Reaper no longer struggled in his bonds, he knew that was useless.
These mages were nothing if not crafty. They had laid their trap so carefully; he had not even realized that he was in danger until it was too late.
He had had so little time to fight, so little time to resist. He had shouted for Kess to run, run and find help, and turned to cover her escape. That battle had not lasted long, not against three senior enchanters…
…And that is how the paladin ended a prisoner of the mage rebellion, or rather…some offshoot of it.
He glared up at the enchanter; Allard was the man's name. Dark of hair with the oiled mustache that one expected from a noble in the imperial court, whether the man was truly Orlesian, the paladin could not say. His accent suggested time in Orlais, but that did not mean much, considering how often the Circle shifted its mages around, especially in the last few years. The Knight Commanders had tried to separate the troublemakers from their followers, or vice versa, of course, sometimes that backfired, and the mage ended up recruiting even more lackeys.
Reaper shook his head.
It was clear that not all mages were as…principled as Kess. Some had agendas not so different from the very Templars they now resisted.
Arrogance was, after all, not simply a Templar trait.
IOI
The journey to Haven had taken far longer than expected, made even more so, by the weather that continued to threaten their path. Reaper had tried to be smart about it, giving the king's road a wide berth, staying to the green wood and wild places where ever he could.
Kess said nothing about their passage. If the mage felt any discomfort she chose not to show it. She simply followed his lead, and did what she could to aid them.
"It may be slower going," he had informed her, "But at least we should arrive at the village safely. When we do, leave the talking to me. The priests and knights of Haven know me, I'm sure they will be more than willing to grant you sanctuary."
"I will trust your judgment on this matter, ser," she had said dutifully, every inch the proper mage she claimed to be. "When we reach the village, I shall follow your lead."
Reaper had nodded, grateful for her willingness to trust him on this, of course, after what they had shared, why would she not?
It was not like they were still strangers, not after those long dark nights in their cabin.
Not that the mage showed it of course, since leaving that place, she had not spoken once of their time there. She did not even bring up what they shared.
The thought puzzled him, though perhaps, that made no sense.
Had she not told him that what they had shared had been simple comfort, and nothing more? She had warned him had she not, had she not told him that she did not expect more than what they had shared during those dark and cold nights? She had certainly not asked any more of him since their return to the road, had not sought out his warmth, or his bedroll. Part of him started to doubt what had happened, perhaps it had been some dark fantasy brought on by the cold and intimacy of their situation.
Then again…was he really so different than her? When he did think about what happened, when he pictured what had taken place, it was not Kess' face that sprang to mind.
The paladin shook his head.
It was Dee, it was always Dee. When he thought about the cabin, it was she that he pictured. It was she that he desired, that he craved. It was wrong of course, knowing Dee the way he did, knowing about her vows. What he wished, what he wanted…it was impossible. Yet, he could not deny that desire, and as time when on, it was only growing.
The realization did not please him.
It seemed that Kess had awakened something within him, something that was not denied easily, something that did not wish to go back to sleep.
Any thought of Dee now seemed to feed that beast, the desire growing within him. Even the memory of her most innocent of touches excited him now.
The predator had tasted blood, it seems, and now, it desired more.
He tried to put such thoughts out of his mind. What had happened had happened. He could not change that, even if wanted to.
For now they needed to focus on reaching Haven, and avoid any Templar patrols while doing so. Even if they were not Martel's men, any patrol was likely to take exception to his travelling with a mage. In fact, Reaper had no idea what had become of Knight-Commander Martel and his forces, but whatever had happened, he doubted the man would look favorably on the one who had caused so much difficulty for his plans.
No, the paladin thought to himself.
It would be best that I stay as far away from Martel and his lieutenants as possible. He did not doubt for a moment that they would hold a grudge, and likely go to any length to pursue it.
So for now, he would avoid any Templar patrol.
It was safer that way.
They bypassed Redcliffe completely, choosing to remain on the outskirts, not wishing to be spotted by any roving Templars or spies of the order. The closest they came to civilization during that time was a brief stop at the crossroads in the Hinterlands, where they spent the night in the company of a trading caravan.
Though they had not discussed it before hand, Kess had come up with a story to tell the merchants. She was simply a travelling pilgrim on her way to Haven. To the travelers, the pair was just a pilgrim whose son had agreed to accompany her on this journey.
The story surprised Reaper, the thought of him being the mage's son didn't seem right. She did not seem old enough to be the mother of an adult child. Of course, the more he thought about it, he realized that had Kess had a child in her teens, it is likely they would be around his age by now.
Still, the story felt strange to him, especially after their time in the cabin. Kess had not seemed like a motherly figure then. What they had shared was not…
He shook his head.
Nope, he thought, best not to go there.
He tried not to think about it.
His thoughts returned to Dee. He had been so close, so many times to reaching a chantry and leaving a message behind, this time he was determined to not let the chance go to waste. Barrowing a piece of parchment, quill, and ink, he penned a letter to his partner, leaving it in the hands of one of the trader's hirelings with orders to see it a safely to the chantry, and a silver to seal the deal.
He was careful enough to use one of Leliana's cyphers. To one untrained in them, the letter would appear to be nothing more than a knight writing to an old friend in the chantry. If Dee heard it however, she would recognize the safe phrases, and be able to decode the message. She would know he was alive and on his way to Haven.
The thought made him smile.
Who knew, she might already be there. Had Leliana recalled her after the accident, she might have guessed that he would return to Haven.
The thought of seeing her again…it made him happier than he liked to admit. It had been too long since they had parted...
…far too long.
The threat of snow once again slowed their progress. They found the path, but Reaper still kept one eye to the skies. They were committed now, and there were no shelters along this leg of the path, if another storm did come up, they would be stuck in it and this far up in the mountains that could be a death sentence.
Fortunately, the weather held off, and Reaper led his charge along the route that led to the village of Haven.
Kess grew nervous the closer they came to the village. She feared what the chantry forces that held Haven would say or do when they realized who and what she was.
Reaper did his best to dispel that fear. These were good people, he promised her.
They would not make any rash judgment.
As the first hints of a village came into view, the pair was set upon by a pair of sentries. Reaper called out to them, letting them know he was a friend and was bringing someone in seeking protection.
The guards responded by drawing their blades. Reaper had only just started to repeat his hail when they attacked him. Kess had been so surprised that she had not even tried to raise a defensive shield. It was then that the mages who had posted these guards got involved. That was how Reaper discovered that Haven had been taken over by the mage rebellion.
That was how he had come to realize that he had walked into a trap.
He screamed for Kess to flee while he engaged the attackers. His blade cut down both of the sentries, and he called on the fires within him to burn away two of the mages. It was then that the rest fell upon him, drawn by the sounds of fighting and guards call for help.
After that, the battle was over. Reaper was good, but he was not that good.
The mages overwhelmed him, and he found himself falling into darkness.
IOI
He awoke in the cells beneath Haven's chantry. His arms bound behind his back and his head swimming from the effect of some drug or spell. His interrogator, the mage Allard was there, ready with his questions, and more than eager to gloat over what had transpired.
The former was an annoyance, the latter was far more useful than the mage realized. Reaper had had no idea who had taken him prisoner when he had first waked in that cell, now…he knew much about his captors.
That knowledge might be useful later on.
"I've been around Templars all my life, boy," Allard snarled, "I've seen Templar abilities. I know what the order can do. What you possess, what I've heard from the priests we have questions. You…you are something else entirely.
He sneered like some Orlesian villain in a Ferelden made mummers show.
"I will have the secrets of this magic you wield, and I will have them now."
The paladin shrugged, not an easy thing when he was bound up like he was.
"If you have spoken to the priests that know of me, than you know that what I wield is no mere magic, they were born of the flames that shielded Andraste's ashes. It was a miracle, not magic."
The mage slapped him across the face.
"Liar," he spat, "I do not believe such drivel. Your chantry has long bound us, hid your true power behind superstition and ritual, no more I say, no more."
Allard leaned in close.
"We will drag your secrets into the light, and then make them our own. The time of the chantry is over; the age of the free mage…has begun."
Again Reaper shrugged.
So much for being reasonable, he thought. Enchanter Allard was proving to be more than paranoid. He had spent as much time ranting at Reaper has he trying to extract information from him. How much of that ranting was true, the paladin could not say, all he could do was listen, and wait for the right opportunity.
Hopefully, it was come soon.
The mages that had claimed Haven called themselves the three liberators. Allard along with his partners Saera, Gimmel, had taken command of this group shortly after the incident at the white spire and the emptying of the circles. According to Allard, he and his two friends were the only true mages fighting for their independence in Ferelden, while the rest of them rallied around Grand Enchanter Fiona, he and his fellow libertarians had decided to take the fight directly to their chantry foes.
And yes, Allard did believe that their enemy in this war was the chantry. He did not believe that the Seekers and Templars had left the Divine's side, to him; it was all a ruse to justify further Templar brutality while dealing with the Circles once and for all.
Reaper had tried to inform him that this simply wasn't the case, but again the mage's paranoia got the best of him. He would not hear any Templar lies, he had heard them his entire life.
He would not listen to such talk again.
As the interrogation continued, Reaper learned what had happed since these mages had arrived.
The Three Liberators had already been marching on Haven when the blizzard that had trapped Reaper and Kess came down out of the Frostbacks. The mages and their allies had arrived to find the village all but abandoned, the bulk of the people taking shelter up in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The few that had remained had offered little resistance, not that they had had much of chance. The village's defenses were minimal, meant to keep out wildlife; not determined attackers.
So Haven had fallen, but not the Temple of Sacred Ashes.
For days now the mages had been seeking a way to breach the temple. Threatening the lives of their hostages, yet unwilling to harm them, fearing that a Templar army was likely holding the temple, an army that would fall upon them if they used up their only bargaining chips.
The liberators had come here to seize the Ashes of Andraste. Like Allard, they refused to believe that the ashes were no longer here. They did not understand or accept that the guardian had taken them away.
Unable to attack and unwilling to retreat, the mages started sending out birds to the main force of the mage rebellion, requesting reinforcements to help finish securing their prize. So far, they had received no response. This did little to improve either the morale or the patience of Allard and his allies.
Something that Reaper was experiencing first hand. He had the bruises to show it.
The Enchanter paced before his prisoner, his hands behind his back, Reaper could hear the man muttering under his breath, perhaps trying to think of a new lever to pull.
"Your resistance is futile," the mage said, "The mages have the power to fell entire armies. Any rescue attempt will fail, you must understand this."
Reaper said nothing. If the mages were united, sure, what the Enchanter said was true, but he did not see that, not with this group. The three liberators had more in common with Knight-Commander Martel and his sycophants. They had moved without the order or blessing of their fellows, now they were stuck, their heads beneath the chopping blade.
It was only a matter of time now, either the chantry or the Templars would eventually bring that blade down.
Then this lot would realize how far they gone astray.
"The Divine is merciful Enchanter," Reaper finally said, "She would offer asylum and protection for your followers; all you have to do is ask."
The mage laughed at that.
"Protection? Yes, I'm sure the old bitch would happily offer us protection, once we marched back to the Circles with our tails between our legs. No, ser, no, we are done with chantry mercy."
The man's eyes flashed with anger.
"We will have our freedom, even if we have to pull your chantry down brick by brick. We will bury your precious ashes beneath the ruins of your temple, and the entire world will know that the chantry no longer holds the fate of the mages in its hands, this is our world now, and we shall claim it."
The paladin sighed.
"Even if you beat the Templars…"
"We don't have to beat your tin soldiers, we have to beat you."
"Even if you beat us," Reaper interrupted, "The nobles of Thedas will not accept what you are trying to do. You will find yourselves in an even larger war. Your people will be outnumbered a hundred to one."
Allard seemed to consider that, briefly perhaps, but at least he was considering it.
Then it was gone, the mask of cold arrogance returned to the mage's face.
"We will crush anyone who tries to cage us again. Anders was right; better that we die on our feet that live on our knees."
The paladin's eyes narrowed.
Yes, he thought, that idea worked out so well for the mage Anders didn't it?
He is living so happily now, is he not?
"The longer you wait, boy," Allard informed him, "the less likely your chances of surviving this become. We do not wish to kill you all, but we will if we have no choice."
"There is always a choice, Enchanter," Reaper reminded him, "You just need to make the right one."
Frustrated by his prisoner the mage turned to leave, his cloak sweeping behind him like the villain he was pretending to be. Reaper was not surprised. The truth could be as painful as it was frustrating.
Frustration could be useful, if properly used.
Reaper decided to try for one last bit of information, the man's anger might just be high enough that would let something slip.
"My companion," he said, "Has there been any word of her?"
Allard paused, perhaps trying to turn the question to his advantage.
"The snows have returned," the mage said, "If your friend is still out there she is as good as dead. If the cold does not get her, the wildlife will."
He turned with a cruel smile.
"No one of the chantry could survive out there. Yet, you sent her away, her death is on your conscience, boy, remember that."
The mage laughed.
"Perhaps we will have her frozen body for you when we speak next. In the meantime realize that what happens is all your fault. Any blood that is spilt here will be on your hands. Remember that, Templar. Remember that."
The man spat on the floor and left, taking the only torch with him, leaving Reaper in darkness.
Not so unlike Dee, he reasoned.
Lost in darkness, but even here, hope remained.
The paladin sighed.
Allard might be a powerful mage, but he lacked in matters of interrogation. It would have been wiser to have told him nothing about Kess, let his imagination run wild with what could be happening to her. The fact that the mages had not found her was…hopeful.
It seems that Allard did not even realize that she as a mage. That could be useful, of course, for that to be the case, she would need to find her way back into the village, and if she did…there was no guarantee that Allard and the others would accept her.
He had shouted for her to run, to try and find help. If she made it out of the mountain paths, then there was a chance she could have made it back to Redcliffe, Redcliffe and the chance to get help.
If she did or not, he could not say, he simply had to have faith.
Kess was a resourceful woman.
He did not think she would abandon him.
She would be back.
Yes, she would be back.