The magister laughed.

"Come now," he said. "You knew this was inevitable. We will always find you, little wolf."

The diminutive made the boiling rage in Fenris's throat rise, choking him with heat and nausea. With a shout he charged, sword ready—

Magical energy leapt from the magister's staff and hit the air around him, sizzling and dissipating in a puff of smoke. Nyssa followed close behind, fingers moving as zie drew a glyph in mid-air.

"Don't rush in!" zie warned him, as Calix shrugged off hir spell. "That's what he wants!"

"I know!" Fenris growled. His anger had cooled rapidly, replaced by wariness. A laetan or an altus was one thing; a magister was another, a spellbinder who had decades of experience and a wealth of power at his fingertips. One wrong move and it would be deadly for both of them.

The wind picked up over the harbour as they fought. For every foot they gained the magister took back; ambient energy crackled around them, discharged from every spell and counter-spell, until Fenris's markings began to tingle and itch. He ignored the discomfort and covered Nyssa's flank as zie pressed forward, hir staff twirling in a corona of blazing, green light.

Then the magister shouted a spell, raising his arms, and a jagged line of red opened in mid-air with a sound like fabric tearing. Several shadows materialised on the deck around them.

"Demons!" Fenris hissed. He recognised them all from the numerous encounters in Kirkwall: wraiths with wavering outlines, shades with glowing, yellow eyes, and a rage demon that left a trail of singed wood in its wake.

"Keep them off me!" Nyssa shouted, never taking hir eyes off the magister. "I need to concentrate, or I'll destroy the ship!"

He barely heard hir words before the wind ripped them away, but he didn't have time to question hir plan. A wraith lunged at him and he reacted instinctively, cleaving it in half with one strike.

Hot pain flashed across his spine, and Fenris turned, almost overbalancing in his haste. Another wraith screeched at him, its translucent mouth open, and slashed at him with its claws. He ran it through with a shout of effort, sweat stinging his eyes.

Calix retreated towards the stairwell leading up to the elevated deck. His robes were disheveled and smoking from Nyssa's counter-spell, his face sweating and red with rage.

"Corner him!" Fenris yelled, ducking under another spell.

"That's what I've been trying to do!" zie shouted back. Another spell struck hir barrier, sparks showering around hir. A fireball hit the sail above hir, and the canvas began to smoke. Nyssa let out a frustrated cry, and a large stone winked into existence before hir.

"Stop setting shit on fire!" zie shouted, and flung it at Calix. The magister smacked the projectile out of mid-air with his staff, and the stone exploded, showering him with shrapnel. Nyssa laughed wildly.

"Works every time!" zie shouted into the wind.

Calix bent over, clutching his face as blood ran between his fingers. Then he raised his head, shouted something over the wind, and the cuts on his face began to smoke. A howl erupted from his mouth—an inhuman sound that turned Fenris's blood to ice.

"Get back," he shouted to Nyssa, and sprinted towards hir. "Back!"

The magister flung his arms wide and a wave of red, crackling energy swept across the ship. Nyssa slammed the butt of hir staff into the deck and shouted a word in elven, then the red magic swallowed them whole.

Seconds later, Fenris opened his eyes as the tingling energy passed over his head. He'd dropped to one knee as the spell hit, seeking to shield Nyssa with his body, but he couldn't see hir. He twisted around and finally spotted hir behind him. Zie had been knocked down by the magister's spell, tossed like a ragdoll into the mizzen mast, and sprawled facedown on the deck. The magister was behind him on his knees, arms pinned to his sides by a shimmering prison of magical energy. Fenris retrieved his sword and went to Nyssa, who rolled onto hir back with a groan.

"Are you alright?" he asked, and cast another glance at the magister. "Are you hurt?"

"I'll live," zie said, and leaned on him heavily as he pulled hir up. Then zie froze and glanced up at him, questioning. "Fenris… I went through you."

Fenris grimaced. "I suspected as much."

"Does that happen often?"

"It's a side effect of the lyrium. It doesn't always work in my favour… or yours, it would seem."

"Huh," Nyssa said, then hir eyes widened. Zie scrambled for hir staff and stumbled towards the captive magister with Fenris on hir tail.

Calix glared at the elves as they approached. His face was covered in blood, dirt and soot, and a vein pulsed in his forehead.

"Out of practice, human?" Nyssa said to the magister, and he spat at hir. "Well, that's rude."

"Perish in the Void, you sniveling rattus!"

Fenris closed the space between them in a few quick strides and grabbed the magister by the throat.

"How did you find me?" he demanded.

The magister glared at him defiantly. Fenris gripped until his gauntlet dug into the human's throat, ignoring Nyssa's quiet admonishment.

"How. Did. You. Find. Me?"

"Fenris," Nyssa said sharply, as he tightened his grip. "He can't talk if you choke him to death."

"You will be taken apart," the magister rasped. "You will be given to the dogs! Not even your bones will remain!"

Fenris phased his fist through the man's throat and twisted.

"Well, now he's definitely not going to tell you," Nyssa said, with a frown of displeasure. The magical energy sputtered and vanished, and the magister's body hit the deck with a thud.

"He would never have talked." Fenris gave the corpse a kick, then headed for the open door to the captain's quarters.

Calix had turned the captain's cabin into a room more suited to a brothel or a mansion than a ship. Most of the space was taken up by a large, polished wooden table, with seating in the Tevinter style and air that smelled heavily of perfume and oil. Upon the table was a scroll and a haphazard pile of letters, and a map hung on the far wall.

"Wait!" Nyssa said, as Fenris went to step past hir, and swept hir palm outwards in a gesture. A current of energy passed through the room, shifting the brocade curtains.

"There," zie continued. "No traps. Go on." Then zie went to the desk and began to examine it.

Fenris sheathed his sword and went to the map. He'd seen its like in Castellum Tenebris, once, long ago… and there had been one in his old mansion in Kirkwall. He leaned closer, tracing a finger over the east coast. Salle, Bastion, Hercinia—there was Ostwick, marked with a symbol he also recognised. He'd seen that symbol once, sealed in red wax on a letter in Danarius's hand. He'd been waving it as he shouted at one of his slaves, a girl who had spilled his wine on an expensive carpet. Fenris remembered standing at his side, trying to ignore the girl's tears, and praying he would be spared from his master's wrath later.

"Fenris."

He turned quicker than he meant, muscles tensing. Nyssa beckoned him over to the table.

"These letters are all in Tevene," zie said. "I could only make out a few words, but I think this is a name. Nenelus? Neenlis?"

Fenris took the letters and skimmed through them, not bothering to parse any unfamiliar words.

"Nenealeus," he said, and scowled. "An associate of Danarius. He was known for training slave fighters. Rumour had it he would also train perrepatae."

"Which is… ?"

"A slave trained to kill mages."

Nyssa frowned. "I suppose I can guess why a magister might have use for a mage-killing slave. Though… it seems foolish to keep a slave specially designed to kill you. Do they not fear their slaves turning on them?"

"Most magisters find it incomprehensible that a slave should dream of rebelling," Fenris responded, as he gathered up the scroll. He returned to the map on the wall and began to take it down.

"But you did."

"Yes. I did." Fenris rolled up the map tightly and tucked it into his belt, along with the other scroll. "Perhaps one day I will tell you the story. But for now, we should leave."

In the end, the ship didn't burn.

There were other slaves chained in its cargo hold, like Fenris had predicted. He and Nyssa freed them and put them on boats with whatever treasures they could salvage. They left the slavers' corpses untouched.

Let their fellow slavers find them, Fenris thought, and know their days are numbered.

They took the last boat and slipped away in the darkness, just in time for the city guard to show up with torches and a few harried-looking templars. No-one saw two elves crouched in the boat, and no-one heard them. Whether it was Nyssa's magic or sheer luck, Fenris couldn't say.

They ditched the boat and found an abandoned camp just outside of Ostwick, concealed from the guards patrolling the outer wall, and settled in for the night. They did not light a fire, for fear the smoke and sparks would attract attention, but Nyssa conjured a dim arcane light to bob around their heads as Fenris examined the scrolls and papers he'd stolen from the magister.

"What will you do now?" zie asked.

He gestured for hir to come closer so he could show the red symbols scrawled over the map.

"I found this in the magister's chambers," he said. "I have seen this symbol before in Danarius's house, stamped on a sealed letter. One that Nenealeus delivered to him."

Nyssa leaned over the map, hir shoulder brushing his as zie examined it closely.

"There's one on Ostwick," zie murmured, tracing a finger over the map. "And look. One on Denerim and Jader. Hunter Fell, then… Wycome and Antiva City. Kirkwall as well."

Fenris hadn't traveled further than Ostwick so far in his life, but he didn't need to visit these places to see where they were situated on the map. Like Kirkwall, they were all coastal cities. It was not hard to draw a conclusion.

"What?" Nyssa said; zie must have seen the change in his face. "What are you thinking?"

"We encountered slavers in Kirkwall, seven years ago." Fenris sat back on his haunches, rubbing his chin as he recalled the memory. "A woman from the alienage asked Hawke to look for her son. Hawke, myself, some of our… associates, we rescued the boy from them. There were more over the years, but I thought we had put an end to it before—" he couldn't bring himself to talk of Anders' actions; even the thought of the man still made him angry. "—before I left. If we failed to stop them..."

"But that's not your fault. That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"It's not that," Fenris said. "There are hunters who sell slaves to the Imperium; this has been the practice for centuries." His fingers traced a route from Kirkwall to Wycome, then to Antiva City. Thoughts were racing through his head now, fueled by the revelation of something bigger afoot than a few pockets of slave-runners. He tapped his thigh rhythmically, fraught with nervous energy, and only looked up when Nyssa said his name quietly.

"I apologise," he said, and relaxed. "I was thinking. I..." he touched the map again, over the outlines of the Hunterhorn Mountains. "I think I will look into this."

The idea had been brewing for days, and their recent encounters with the slavers had only strengthed his resolve. In truth, though, it was not the first time he had entertained the idea of taking the fight back to Tevinter. He had not spent seven years in Kirkwall only to flee like a frightened rabbit the moment he left. It was time to strike back, and he knew where to hit them hardest. Slaves were the life-blood of Tevinter, and such a nation could not survive long without them.

Even if that were not the case—this Nenealeus still lived. No doubt there would be other magisters involved besides Danarius and Calix.

A small hand rested on his shoulder, and he glanced over at Nyssa. Zie blinked back at him, hir eyes reflecting the poor light.

"What's on your mind?" zie asked.

Fenris began to reroll the map.

"Many things," he said. "I thought Calix's sole purpose was to hunt me down and return me to Tevinter, but these letters suggest otherwise. Even so… I have been hunted for a long time for these markings, and it's time I put them to good use. Perhaps by following this trail, I can give other slaves their freedom."

For a moment Nyssa was silent, hir dark eyes searching his face as if to confirm the truth of his words. Then zie smiled.

"I'm glad," zie said, "If anyone can do it, you can."

Fenris swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. Hir words touched him, though he couldn't entirely understand why. To hide it he stood, packed away the map and papers and began to build a proper fire. He had half-expected Nyssa to protest, but zie sat hugging hir knees and staring out into the darkness.

"What troubles you?" he asked, when several moments had passed. He had to repeat the question before zie glanced up at him, squinting as the fire crackled to life.

"Nothing." Zie shot him a smile that was genuine, if slightly strained. Zie dismissed the arcane light with a gesture, then moved to give him space to sit. "I just… wish I could come with you."

Impulsively Fenris took hir hand.

"You could, if you truly wish," he said, a little uncertainly, for he knew what hir answer would be. "I would welcome your company. And your assistance."

"I can't." Nyssa looked upset now, hir hand twitching as if zie wanted to pull away. "You know I can't."

"No, I don't," Fenris said.

"What?"

"You mentioned returning to Val Royeaux. You never said why." Nyssa glanced away uncomfortably, but Fenris held on to hir hand. "Is your life not your own?"

"No. I mean, yes, I am free enough. But I have to return. More accurately… I have to return something."

Zie reached behind hir, pulling hir hand away gently, and withdrew a small linen bundle from one of the side pockets of hir pack. Zie laid it flat on hir palm and unfolded it carefully.

It was a ring. Fenris blinked; he hadn't expected something quite so small and unassuming. Then as he leaned closer to inspect, he heard the song—a low hum that quickened the blood in his veins, followed by the tingling of his lyrium activating. Hastily he sat back, breath quickening, and said, "What the hell is that?"

If Nyssa was offended by his harsh tone, zie gave no sign.

"It's a ring," zie replied. "It's infused with lyrium, so it reacts to the presence of other lyrium nearby. Like your markings, or… like the lyrium in a mage's blood."

"It could be used to track mages?"

Nyssa nodded. Gingerly zie rewrapped the ring and returned it to hir bag.

"I tracked this to Kirkwall a few months ago. I was meant to just retrieve it and go back to Orlais, but I got caught between a few groups also looking for it. I had to hide out in Markham for a few months."

"No doubt there is more to the story."

Zie cast him a sideways glance and chewed hir lip nervously. "I can tell you, if you want to hear it."

"We have all night," Fenris said. "Why not?"

Neither of them slept. Fenris was too keyed up, invigorated by the thought of a new purpose, and determined to make the most of the hours they had left.

Nyssa told him the story of procuring the ring in Kirkwall. Fenris told hir what he remembered of Seheron and the Fog Warriors. He did not tell hir, though, what he did to them at Danarius's command. A small part of him balked at his cowardice, but he justified it by reminding himself he would likely never see hir again. He wanted hir to remember him well—if zie remembered him at all.

He didn't much like that idea, either.

When the first rays of sun began to peek through the trees, they packed up their camp and returned to the outer wall of Ostwick.

"What are we doing?" Fenris asked, as zie led him off the main road. Merchants and farmers were gathering around the entrance as they had the day before, crowding to get into the city with their wares.

"Too many guards," Nyssa said, and took his hand. Zie tugged him along the side wall, and after a few minutes stopped at a place where the wall was cracked. Zie tapped it with hir staff, and with a quiet rumble the stone began to fold back on itself.

"Impressive," Fenris said as he glanced back and forth, watching for any sign of the guard. "Could you have destroyed the Tevinter ship like that?"

Nyssa shrugged. "I suppose. I don't really like big demonstrations of my magic."

"Why?"

The wall opened wide enough for a person. Nyssa waved him through before ducking under hirself, then opened the inner wall to do the same. They emerged into a deserted alley behind a pile of kegs and discarded wood.

"Well, for one thing it's crass," Nyssa continued. Zie shoved at a keg for a moment, grimacing, then gave up and climbed on top. "I don't need to blow things up to prove I'm powerful. For another, careless magic tends to hurt people who get in the way, and Ostwick has done no wrong by me. And third—" zie jumped down on the other side, then reached a hand to help him over the pile. "—if the guards find out the ship is Tevinter, they'll be on the lookout to make sure they can't steal slaves here again."

"A fair point," Fenris replied. A flash of regret turned his expression into a grimace. Where would he find another mage who took such care and consideration with their power? Not in Tevinter, that was for certain.

By the time they rejoined the crowds heading into the city (hoods on, concealing their faces as much as possible), the place had begun to awaken, and by mid-morning they headed back to the docks with a loaf of bread and a ticket purchased from the harbourmaster. Nyssa had just enough coin to take hir back to Val Royeaux, and then zie would start again. That was the fun of it, zie told him, though he wasn't sure if zie was being sarcastic.

Fenris watched hir board the ship with a heart lighter than it had been in a year, and stood watching as the vessel pulled out of the harbour… until Nyssa was no more than a vague silhouette against the sun. Then he turned and headed for the city gates. He missed hir almost immediately, an odd thing to feel for a person he had only known a few days. Still, he had no time for regret. This did not feel like an ending to him—it felt like a beginning.

Time to hunt, Fenris thought, and reached for the map stuffed into his belt.

THE END