Chapter EIGHT
The group convened at the Hanged Man, Aria the last to show up. Her heart hurt. That's all she could really think of. It felt as though someone had driven a dull knife through her sternum and twisted. The past few days had been so beautiful—she wondered now if she'd only dreamt them. And if she would ever truly feel whole again. What hurt the most was that she knew it was real. What Anders felt, what she felt, it was real. So why would he push her away now? Why had he even bothered getting close to her, letting her in, only to shove her away?
Bethany's dark eyes clouded with concern as her sister slowly trudged up the cobblestone path from Gamlen's hovel to the well-known bar. Varric elbowed the apostate lightly in the side and whispered.
"What happened?"
Bethany only shook her head, her worry evident in the slight creases upon her smooth brow. The glow that had been in Aria's countenance but a few hours ago had gone, replaced by heartrending blankness that was even worse than the bitterness her sister had harboured since their arrival in Kirkwall.
"Are we ready?" Aria asked as she reached them, her voice full of forced cheer.
"Lead the way," Varric said, his keen eye for detail missing nothing. Anders stood apart from them, his own eyes just as haunted as Aria's.
Night had fallen. In the dark, the streets took on a sinister appearance. Alleys became yawning, black chasms whose contents were best left undiscovered. The shadows of the buildings, long and undulating, took on a wicked life of their own in the feeble light offered by the few lit street lanterns. In Lowtown, as soon as the sun was set, the alleyways seemed to come alive with the dregs of Kirkwall's citizenry. It was dangerous, especially if one was known for having coin on them.
They walked up the stairs to the marketplace, which was empty of its usual hustle and bustle. The merchants had left their stands, most of their items either having gone with them or locked away where none could rob them. Aria kept to the shadows, watching for brigands as she went.
True to form, a band of highwaymen bearing the Sharps guild insignias on their shoulders ambushed them. Aria was in a fighting mood. She needed to inflict the hurt she felt on those who tried to assail her, give her pain a physical outlet. With much more gusto than was probably necessary, she launched herself into the fight.
She charged one of the archers, slicing his throat open before he had the chance to even nock an arrow. In a devastating whirlwind of blades, she spun and danced through their defensive line, unleashing destruction and dealing swift, vicious death. As she yanked her blade from the last Sharpsman's chest, Varric, Bethany, and Anders caught up with her.
"Maker's breath, Hawke. You do get results," Varric said in astonishment, surveying the carnage with a mix of horror and awe.
"I'm not in the mood for toying with these cretins this evening," she quietly replied, wiping the dagger clean of highwayman blood and sheathing it on her back.
She lifted her gaze, searching for the contact in Athenril's letter and saw a dwarf standing next to one of the merchant's stands. His back was to them and he was reading a scroll. She strode over to him and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Are you Anso?"
The dwarf spun wildly, throwing his hands up as if to ward off a blow. "Ah!" he screamed. "Sweet mother of Partha! You can't just run up on someone like that!
Aria glared at him, unimpressed. She hadn't even been trying to sneak and how he'd missed all that commotion across the bazaar... Well. She couldn't be bothered with pity at the moment.
"Are you…the human Athenril told me about? The one looking for work?" he asked, his clear grey eyes wide and too big for his face. His lips were thick under a dark, well-kept beard. His expression was that of a scared rabbit.
"Did you think I was going to attack you?" Aria asked, sheathing the other blade she held in her hand. She had to admit—she had rather enjoyed the terror in his eyes. Down girl, she mentally berated the blood lust still singing through her body.
"Oh! No, no!" he quickly denied, "Or I hope not, anyhow! My apologies, human. I haven't been on the surface very long. I keep thinking I'll fall up into that sky any minute."
Varric chuckled at this, saying, "Bartrand used to be like that. Got jumpy every time he stepped outside."
"What a bizarre thing to be scared of," Bethany mused.
"But I digress!" the jumpy little dark-haired dwarf continued, his eyes darting from each of them to the next. "I need some help," he said, sounding frightened and whiny. Just the tone set Aria's nerves on edge. "Rather badly, in fact. Some product of mine has been…misplaced."
Aria crossed her arms over her chest. She couldn't tell if his nervousness was genuine or a ploy. It might be that he was trying to put them off their guard. She casually glanced around, looking for a possible ambush, then returned her gaze to him. He seemed a little too slick as he continued when she didn't respond.
"The men who were supposed to deliver it decided not to. If you retrieve my property, I could reward you handsomely?" His simpering, nasally voice trailed off, as if he wasn't too sure about whether or not he could reward them.
"Just what did these men steal?" Aria curtly asked. This was a game and she didn't want to play, damn him.
His anxiety went up a notch. "Did I say steal? I don't know if I would go that far. They seemed like perfectly reasonable smugglers. They…smiled and everything! The goods are valuable, however. And illegal. And my client wants them very, very badly! You know how these templars can be."
Aria groaned at this. More dealings with templars. Exactly what she did not need. "You're smuggling lyrium to the templars?"
"Maker's breath!" Varric exclaimed, exasperated. "Between the Chantry, the Carta, and the Coterie…"
"Shhh!" Anso squeaked, his apprehensive further piquing her ire. "By the Paragons! Not so loudly! My word, I'm not cut out for this. I should have taken that job sweeping stables like Mother insisted," he mournfully stated, rubbing his temples with his thick fingers.
"Make it worth my time, and I'll help you," Aria sniped, thoroughly put off by this annoying little man.
"Oh, I will! Or I'll try to. The gentlemen conduct their business at night in a little hovel within the alienage. If you have to kill them, then I guess it can't be avoided," he simpered, wringing his hands together nervously. "But I'm sure they'll be reasonable!" he squeaked as an afterthought.
"C'mon," Aria said, turning towards her companions. "Looks like we are going to go get our hands very dirty."
They went swiftly to the elven alienage, none of them really speaking of anything. Aria could feel their stares at her back. Anders was brooding and apologetic, Varric and Bethany curious as to what had obviously transpired between the two. Aria avoided their gazes and just focused on the task at hand. She'd have to talk to Bethany later. Maybe she had some insight.
As soon as they alighted the steps leading down into the dirty, despair-ridden part of town that housed the city's elven population, more of Sharp's Highwaymen greeted them. Aria attacked with the same fervor and rage as she had before, mercilessly cutting down every thief in her path. It was a quick affair, affording little banter between their group of vigilantes. Aria worked at the lock on the little hovel with a small hair pin she'd yanked from her head and they moved inside. It was quiet and wreaked of body odor and the stench of stale liquor and cigar smoke. She motioned for her companions to be silent and she listened for signs of any of the highwaymen.
Aria motioned to the door in front of them, alerting the rest of the group to the presence of the criminals. She kicked the door open and they made quick work of the thieves within. They found no chest in that room and continued searching the tiny, dilapidated little house.
After dispatching of the onslaught of marauders who ambushed them when they opened the next door, she searched that room for Anso's supposed lyrium cache. The search turned up fruitless, as the chest there was empty. Her ire mounting at having been lured into a game of cat and mouse, she stormed outside to the main room of the hovel.
"It was empty!" Aria raged, her hand turning the doorknob to head back into the alienage.
"Waste of bloody time," Varric added his own sentiment. "Who put us up to this?"
Aria opened the door, glaring at no one in particular as she replied, "I guess we have to go back to Anso and tell him it's empty. Then I'm going to ask him what the hell he's playing at."
Before their feet had even cleared the threshold, a sizeable force of warriors bearing Tevinter arms awaited them, and their faces bore shock when they saw Aria's team.
"That's not the elf!" the female commander of the gang exclaimed.
"Doesn't matter—he said kill whoever comes out of the house," one of the other men said, unsheathing his sword and swinging it, as though it would instill some sort of fear in Aria.
"And it just doesn't end," Aria spat, drawing her daggers and going to work again.
They fought for nearly an hour, dispatching of the group of about twenty men. As the battle was seemingly finished, an impressive looking man descended the steps, his eyes cold and vengeful. His clothing spoke of Tevinter origin. And his demeanor was of one used to being in command. Aria lithely swung her daggers, her wrists flicking them through rigorous, beautiful kata in irksome trepidation.
"I don't know who you are, friend," his gravelly voice sounded as he walked up to them, "But you've made a serious mistake coming here. Lieutenant!" He glanced behind him, then returned his hard gaze to Aria, who glared right back. "I want everyone in the clearing! Now!"
The chink of mail and armour greeted their ears and scraping, weary footsteps followed. A Tevinter soldier appeared, his arm across his chest, his sword hanging limply in his other hand. Blood flowed from under the mail and left pools as he walked. He staggered to the steps, a pitiful mewling sound coming from his lips.
"Captain!" he gurgled before he fell over to the ground, the life gone from him.
Another figured appeared in the Tevinter soldier's wake, tall, lithe, and lanky, and moving with lethal, predatory grace. His head was adorned with reckless, silken, shaggy silver hair. His ears curved to slender tips well away from his head. His gaunt, handsome face was beset with cold, vivid emerald eyes. The most striking thing about him, however, were the shimmering white designs emblazoned on his skin, from his chin to his fingers and everywhere else his skin was visible.
Aria blinked a few times, trying to assess exactly what was happening. For a moment, she thought she'd been dreaming. He was clearly an elf, but unlike any she had ever before seen. He stood a head taller than the average elf, his movements controlled and bespoke of wiry, tense muscle and strength quite literally radiated from him. He appeared very, very deadly. His manner was feral, but controlled with ironclad discipline. She readied her daggers, preparing to spring back into battle.
The Captain regarded the newcomer with disgust, sniggering as the impressive elf strode down to them.
"Your men are dead," the elf's deep, raspy voice rent the silence. "And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can." It was not a threat. It was a promise, and he looked to be the type to keep his promise. The subzero chill in his tone sent darts of ice singing down her spine. He was terrifyingly beautiful.
"You're going nowhere, slave," the Tevinter captain sneered.
Aria hardly had time to blink before white light surrounded the elf and in the same instant, he appeared in front of the captain, his fist slamming clean through the man's chest. He crushed the man's heart right there, blood spewing forth from the cavern his lyrium hand had momentarily created.
"I am not a slave," the elf said, his deep voice low and venomous. He yanked his hand from the man's chest and let him fall to the ground before turning to Aria.
She readied her weapons again, her eyes locked on his, her stance set so that all she need do was spring and the battle would begin anew. A slight, sardonic smile tugged at the corners of his surprisingly tempting mouth but disappeared quickly, replaced by something slightly akin to remorse.
"I apologize. When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so…numerous," he said, pacing cagily as he spoke.
Aria lowered her weapons, her muscles remaining tense. "Don't worry. We do this sort of thing often," she lightly quipped, her gaze riveted on his face.
"Impressive," he silkily said, his eyes unabashedly traveling the length of her body then returning to hers. "My name is Fenris. These men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself," he continued, pausing to judge her reaction to this. "They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."
"That seems like a lot of effort to find one slave," she cautiously replied, sizing him up the same as he was her, shadowing his movements, her daggers at the ready. It was almost a dance the way they mirrored each other's steps.
"It is," the elf, Fenris, said, ceasing his pacing for the moment once more.
"Does this have something to do with those markings?" she asked, pointing her dagger at his arms.
He chuckled bitterly, a low grating sound in his throat that made her pulse quicken unexpectedly. "Hmm-hmm—Yes, I imagine I must look strange to you. I did not receive these markings by choice. Even so, they have served me well. Without them, I would still be a slave."
"Ah. Well. Anso's job did seem a little too easy," she teasingly said.
Anders coughed as though he'd suddenly gasped and accidentally swallowed in the process. She ignored him, though she did garner a sweet little bit of vindictive satisfaction that he'd been pricked by jealousy. Their little tryst, though over, had sparked her appetite for something more in her life. She'd decided then that she wasn't going to settle for loneliness anymore. And why should she? Didn't she deserve to be happy? To be loved?
Fenris's visage waxed apologetic again. "Perhaps the deception was unnecessary. If so, I am sorry. I have become too accustomed to hiding," he said, his voice velvet over crushed diamonds. He looked her in the eyes questioningly. "If I may ask; what was in the chest? The one they kept in the house?"
Aria shrugged, sighing, "It was empty."
The elf also sighed. "I suppose it was too much to hope for. Even so, I had to know."
Her curiosity piqued, Aria sought more information. "You were expecting something else?"
"I was, but I shouldn't have. It was bait, nothing more."
"All that for an empty chest?" Aria asked, her voice teasing again.
The expression on his face hardened and grew bitter. "No," he said, leaning down to search the Tevinter captain whose heart he'd crushed. "It's as I thought," he softly remarked, looking at a piece of parchment he'd fished from the man's corpse. He pointed to the seal at the bottom. "My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help."
The elf rounded on her, his hard, green eyes drilling straight through her, straight into her soul. It made her uncomfortable, but at the same time, she felt as though something within her was stirring. Something Anders had awoken. However, she had her reservations and his stark expectancy touched a nerve. She could admit the elf was attractive, but he was taking far too many liberties with her good graces at present.
"You lured me into a trap and now you want my help?" she asked, doing nothing to keep the bite from her tone. She glared back at him, her amber eyes hardening.
He chuckled, as though her ire was something he could nonchalantly disregard. "If Anso told you to divert a bunch of Tevinter bounty hunters, would you have done it?"
At this, Varric laughed. "Ha! With the tear she's been on this evening, she'd have probably accepted with a bloodthirsty grin."
Aria shot him a look full of venom. Varric only smiled sweetly back at her.
Fenris chuckled again. "Had I known you earlier, I'd have asked you personally," he said, his eyes giving her the once over again. "I had only Anso to rely on, I fear. I am not lying to you now. Please help me do this."
She looked back at Varric, Anders, and Bethany, trying to gauge their impressions of him. Anders's eyes were dark and cold, affording the elf no courtesy. Bethany seemed innocently intrigued. Varric—Varric was up for anything.
Aria turned back to Fenris, finding him watching her as one would look at an interesting, complex puzzle. "Looks like it's going to be a long night," she relented.
The elf stepped forward, his hand resting on her shoulder, an earnest light in his eyes. "I will find a way to repay you. I swear it. The magister is staying at a mansion in Hightown. Meet me there as soon as you can. We must enter before morning."
Aria watched him sprint away, melting into the shadows with the grace and precision of a fierce nocturnal predator. Her eyes lingered on the last spot she'd glimpsed him for a moment longer than was necessary and when she turned back to her companions, Varric started laughing.
"Blondie, if looks could kill, I think that elf's heart punch maneuver would be rendered absolutely useless."
Anders glared at the dwarf. "I don't like him. He assumes too much."
Bethany gave Aria a knowing smile and shook her head. "Sister, what have you gotten yourself into now?"
"What?" Aria vexedly asked, sheathing her daggers on her back once more.
Bethany laughed softly to herself. "Nothing. Shall we go?"
"We shall," Aria said, emphasis on the 'we' that implied that Bethany was excluded.
"I'm not going?" Bethany asked, her expression slightly pained.
"Hightown? Fighting in a mansion? Close to where templars and guards patrol routinely?" Varric interjected, coming to Aria's defense.
Bethany groaned. "You know, one of these days I'm not going to listen to you when you tell me to go home."
"But that day isn't today," Aria playfully said. "Go home. I'll be back as soon as I am able."
"All right, sister. But do be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."
They escorted Bethany back to Gamlen's, then headed up to Hightown. As they turned down the street where most of the estates stood, the wan light of the moon glinted off the elf's silvery head, catching her eye. He surreptitiously waved them over.
"No one has left the mansion, but I've heard nothing within," he softly said once they'd reached him where he hid behind the bushes next to the mansion's entrance. "Danarius may know we're here. I wouldn't put it past him."
Aria scanned the mansion's windows, seeking movement or any other telltale sign of occupation. She found none. She turned back to look at Fenris.
"I could stand to know a little more about this Danarius," she quietly said, careful to keep her voice as low as possible.
"He is a magister of the Tevinter Imperium," came Fenris's reply.
Varric groaned. "Oh, is that all? Nothing to worry about then," he said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation.
"There, he is a wealthy mage with great influence," Fenris said, his voice low and seething. "Here, he is but a man who sweats like any other when death comes for him."
"What's the worst that could happen?" Aria snidely whispered, her eyes sympathizing with Varric.
"I do not fear death," Fenris's voice came soft and chastising. "That does not mean we should be reckless."
Aria shrugged and unsheathed her daggers, flicking her wrists and sending them dancing in her hands. "Let's see what he's up to then, shall we?"
They entered the mansion. A few torches were lit in their sconces, and by their smell they'd been lit for some time. Some of them were smoldering, acrid smoke wafting from their dead embers. They'd burned themselves out. The house was eerily silent and didn't feel occupied, at least to Aria.
"I am not afraid of you, Danarius!" Fenris bellowed, brandishing his longsword at the shadows.
As if on cue, several shades appeared from the mansion's dirty stone floor. Aria had never seen one up close, but her father had killed a few back in Lothering while she watched. She attacked them as she would any normal foe, and surely enough, they fell.
There were many of them. They moved like shadows and their otherworldly eyes glowed malevolently red in their faceless heads. She darted sideways as one's poisonous claws sought to shred her abdomen, and in her haste, she ran smack into another one that had materialized from the floor directly behind her.
Its arm snaked around her throat and she flipped the grip on one of her daggers, stabbing it deeply into the demonic form's torso. Its grip tightened and she felt its hot breath on her neck. Fenris lunged in front of her, swinging a devastating, wide arc over her head and rending the spirit's head from its body.
It disappeared in a cloud of noxious smoke that left her gagging. Anders raced to her side, inspecting her for injury. He offered her a small vial of clear, crimson liquid that she drank, murmuring her thanks. He palmed her cheek, his dark eyes boring into her golden brown ones. She realized she'd frightened him and it pained her. She didn't want to hurt him anymore than he wanted to hurt her. At least, not in the moment. Later, she reserved the right to knee him in the groin.
"He sends spirits to do his fighting for him," Fenris rasped, ignoring them for the moment. "Danarius! Can you hear me? Your pets cannot stop us!" the elf raged.
Aria followed him into the next room, a great hall with two staircases that led to a single balcony and blended into the mansion's second floor. They were immediately assaulted by a great number of shades. Joining the shades were rage demons—huge beasts that were fire incarnated.
As the fight progressed, Aria found herself driven to the other side of the hall. She opened the door at her back to escape, unable to fend off so many foes at once. Anders and Varric were on the stairs, dealing with a group of shades. Fenris finished off a shade he was battling and saw her plight.
She ran into the corridor on the other side of the door, her back to the wall. She engaged the shades again, Fenris attacking their flank while she kept them occupied on the frontline. She whirled and danced, narrowly evading their vicious, poison-tipped claws while her daggers ripped and stabbed at whatever vulnerable points she could recognize and access. Anders and Varric surged through the door and joined them, rallying them to victory. They searched the rooms on this side of the great hall, finding them empty of the Tevinter magister.
"Probably locked himself in his study," Fenris gratingly stated as they went back to the great hall.
"Don't look now, but I don't think we're quite finished," Aria curtly replied, pointing her dagger at the Arcane Horror that had just appeared on the balcony.
With a cry of independence-fueled rage, Fenris charged up the steps. Aria pursued, Anders and Varric hot on her heels. They dispatched of the small army of shades and rage demons, along with the Horror. They cleared the two rooms on both sides of the giant locked door that led to Danarius's study and found the key for it on the Horror's corpse.
They stormed the study, only to find it empty.
"Gone," Fenris bitterly spat, his shoulders hunching and his head falling, his chin resting on his chest for a moment. He lifted it again a second later, turning to Aria. "I had hoped…no. It doesn't matter any longer," he said, shaking his head to dispel the thought he'd had. "I assume Danarius left valuables behind. Take them if you wish. I…need some air."
Aria watched him leave, waiting until his silver head disappeared down the steps before turning to Varric and Anders. Varric shrugged and started picking the locks on the many chests in this room. Anders looked through the cupboards and the desk. Aria stood and watched them, ready to battle if any more demonic spirits lingered.
They found some coin purses, some vials containing healing elixirs and lyrium, as well as a few valuable gems. Once they were satisfied with their take, they ventured back down to the great hall. Aria was keenly aware of the weight of Anders's stare and did not object when he drew his arm around her waist as they walked back towards the entrance. Varric wisely kept his mouth shut, though his brows raised slightly when he witnessed their actions. Anders held the door for her as they exited the mansion and he positioned himself away from her when they joined Fenris on the terrace.
"It never ends," Fenris bitterly stated once Aria had closed the mansion's door, his hands resting on the stone fence as he looked out at the empty street. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and soul," he said, turning to face her, his visage a mask of resentment and hatred. "And now I find myself in the company of more mages." His cold green stare landed directly on Anders.
"Ah, here it comes," Anders sarcastically replied, his eyes pleading with Aria.
"I saw you casting spells inside," Fenris said, his distaste barely contained. "I should have realized sooner what you really were." He turned to Aria, his expression condemnatory. "You harbour a viper in your midst. It will turn on you and strike when you least expect. That is in its nature."
"He, not 'it'. You're talking about a Grey Warden and a healer," Aria said, springing to Anders's defense, her hand resting carefully on the hilt of her dagger over her shoulder.
Fenris's gaze shifted at her slight movement and his eyes shot back to hers, questioning. She would defend the mage to the death—and she made sure they both knew it. He'd seen her fight. A duel would likely not end in his favor.
"And a few other things. But let's not mention those," Anders added, his fingers flexing nervously around his staff.
"I'm not blind. I know magic has its uses, and there are undoubtedly mages with good intentions. But even the best-intentioned mage can fall prey to temptation, and then their power is a curse to inflict upon others," Fenris retorted, his prejudice openly evident.
"Considering all the curses inflicted upon us, I'd say it's an even trade," Anders replied, his dark eyes flashing and leaving Aria to wonder if Justice was about to rear his vengeful head.
"I imagine I appear ungrateful," Fenris said, turning back to Aria, his eyes sweeping over her again. It made her nervous in a way she didn't quite fully understand. It was as though he was constantly assessing her, grading her, measuring her up against…something. Like he was searching her for something. "If so, I apologize, for nothing could be farther from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Here is all the coin I have, as Anso promised," he said, placing a bag of coin in her hand, his touch sending a jolt through her, even in its brevity. He didn't act like it affected him. "Should you find yourself in need of assistance, I would gladly render it."
Aria nodded politely, willing her heart to quit hammering and pocketed the coin, though she had half a mind not to accept it. If it was all he had... But no. He'd been quite the inconvenience this evening. She drew her hand from her pocket. "You've said Danarius is a magister, but little else."
"In Tevinter, the magisters hold all the power over the Chantry, over the Imperial Court, over life itself," the elf explained, beginning to pace again. He reminded her very much of a caged, wounded animal. A very dangerous, caged, wounded animal. "It is nothing for one to own a slave. Danarius had many, but none he valued so much as me."
"Then how did you get away?" Aria replied, crossing her arms over her chest against the chill the night had taken as a soft breeze blew over them. Out at sea, thunder rumbled, its basso voice mingling with the timbres of the waves. A storm was coming and she wasn't about to be caught out in it.
"Is it not enough that I did?" Fenris hedged, his green eyes flashing hurt for a brief instant. "I carved my path to freedom in blood. I left that life behind, yet his bounty hunters follow me no matter where I go. I will run no longer."
"Are you going to have a problem with my companions?" Aria queried, indicating Anders with the wave of her hand.
Fenris regarded the mage with cold calculation for a moment. Anders's eyes flashed the same contempt right back at him. Fenris ducked his head in deference.
"I will watch them carefully if we travel together. I can promise no more," Fenris finally replied, his words spoken with great care.
"I'm planning an expedition I might need help with," Aria said, drawing the elf's attention back to her.
He bowed slightly, his eyes boring into hers again. "Fair enough. Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal."