III
-Of Rain and Fire -
.x.
"This city may demand certainty."
-The Arishok
.x.
It was with suitable astonishment that the guards patrolling the Viscount's Way stopped to watch a much dirtied and stained Hawke crawl forth from a hole in the ground. Having shifted the circular metal cover just enough to allow her room to squeeze by, the former Champion tossed her staff up to clatter loudly upon the stones of the street before hoisting herself through the opening. Without bothering to replace the cover, she scooped up her weapon and began racing down the boulevard towards the keep, leaving a gaggle of utterly confused Templars and city guards in her wake.
She hit the massive doors and barely slowed, shoving them open with her shoulder. The thunderous noise as they slammed back against the wall drew attention from most everyone standing within the enormous entrance hall; as heads swiveled to track her progress, Hawke swerved towards the stairs she'd climbed once already that day and began to take them two at a time. Concerned cries echoed out behind her—the weapon she bore made her quite easily recognizable—but she ignored them and raced on, skipping the last three stairs and vaulting over the marble banister at the top. The door to the room where last she'd seen Cullen and Aveline loomed before her; having no real idea if they were still within, she made the choice to shove it open anyways.
As the door exploded open beneath her rough touch, she caught sight of both the Captain of the Guard and the Knight-Commander—their expressions those of bewildered alarm—within. With a gasping sigh of relief Hawke crossed the threshold and strode to where the two of them stood, holding out one hand in a gesture meant to garner their full attention.
"Arishok," she panted with some incoherence, unable to patch together a full sentence in light of the rapidity of her breathing. Both Aveline and Cullen were staring at her with concern—her foray through the undercity had left her garb filthy, and what flesh was not hidden by clothing was also covered in grime. She saw Aveline open her mouth to ask the obvious question—are you alright?—and shaking her head violently, managed to bring her breathing under control enough to speak.
"You must evacuate the city," she said, and promptly collapsed into the nearest chair.
.x.
Several hours had passed since Hawke's dramatic return to the keep. The sun was beginning its descent below the horizon, its red-gold reflection resplendent upon the unusually still waters of the sea. The mage stared at the view unseeing as she stood vigil upon the battlements of Kirkwall's northernmost wall. She had averted her gaze from the commotion transpiring below her—the disorderly exodus of the city's citizens made for uneasy viewing. It was a haunting reminder of the way she'd left Ferelden all those years ago.
To her left the wall rose to accommodate the enormous gate that was one of only two exits from the city. Unimaginatively dubbed the "North Gate", it was a structural remnant hailing from when the city had been under Tevinter rule. It was the path through the North Gate that granted the quickest travel through the Vimmark Mountains. The easternmost gate of the city was the road most traveled by, for it led to a less treacherous path along the coast, one favored and frequented by most merchants and travelers alike.
The reasoning behind the evacuees heading north was simple. Tantervale was the northernmost city of the Free Marches. The Qunari that had been sent ashore to stop the messengers of Kirkwall would have landed on the far eastern coast; their intercepting of the messenger headed for Tantervale would be one of the last they'd make. After Hawke had explained all the Arishok had revealed to her, it had not taken Aveline and Cullen long to make the decision to send an armored company of fifty men out immediately to ride north with great haste to both reach Tantervale with the news of the impending invasion, and to deal with whatever Qunari they may find. From there the plan fell quickly into place, haphazard though it was: Kirkwall could not stand alone against this threat. To try and fight off the Qunari would lead only to senseless slaughter. And so, with dusk looming perilously close, the Knight-Commander and the Captain of the Guard rallied all their respective troops to go forth and gather all citizens to begin an immediate evacuation.
"And if we can somehow stop the Qunari from passing through the North Gate," Cullen had said during their tense planning session, "It would delay them considerably to reroute through the eastern gate and then skirt around the city. It may buy us enough time to make the Vimmark, and from there we can hold the passes if need be."
"Destroying the gate would be the easiest way," Aveline had said, "And nearly impossible given the time we have left. But I don't see how else we might stop them."
Hawke, who had stood listening in silence, had experienced a sudden and somewhat unwelcome blaze of insight. Inwardly questioning the wisdom of her words, she said, "I could help with that."
She would not tell them what she had in mind, however, only insisting that she could manage to prevent the Qunari from passing through the North Gate. Cullen had been openly skeptical and Aveline only slightly less so, but in the end, as Hawke reminded them, their options were a scarce few. And so as every guard and Templar in the city went swiftly forth to roust the citizens from their homes and shops, Hawke had gone to the north wall, climbed the rampart, and it was there she had remained in the hours that passed, watching as people forced to leave behind everything they knew filed through the gate in a helpless, confused trickle.
It was there Aveline found her after the sun had vanished from the sky, giving way to a clear night-sky canvas of stars. The stream of evacuees was still steady through the gate; even from this height their noises of confusion and rage and sorrow were audible. Hawke had chosen to face away from the desolate sight below and instead was staring out over the calm, mirror-like waters of the sea.
"This makes me think of Ferelden." Aveline said by way of greeting, glancing down at the scene illuminated by torchlight below.
"I know," Hawke replied.
The captain came to stand alongside her friend, her eyes sweeping out across the waters in an effort to try to locate the Qunari fleet. It was a fruitless venture, for there was no moon to reveal what she wished to see. She sighed, hand coming to rest upon the reassuring pommel of her sword at her waist.
"I never thought I'd see this day. I don't know if we can bring them all through this alive."
"Leaving is a better option than staying, Aveline. The Qunari will not be gentle in their invasion."
"I know, but I still wish ..." she trailed off.
Hawke turned to her and laid a hand upon her arm. "You're doing what must be done. That's all that can be expected."
The mage drew away then and paced a line to the door of the gatehouse and back again, arms folded over her chest. Aveline studied her intently in the dim illumination provided by a torch set into the wall nearby before saying with some amusement, "You look as though you're dressed for a funeral. Surely you must have robes that fit you better than that?"
Hawke glanced down at her apparel. The thick black robes she wore were far too big, their voluminous folds swallowing her form entirely. She looked back at Aveline with a shrug and a smile. "Black seemed an appropriate color for all of this."
Aveline gave a short, humorless laugh. "I suppose." A frown creased her face then, and she asked, "Hawke … why didn't the Arishok bother to kill you today when he had you cornered?"
There was a pause before Hawke replied, her own brow lined with bemusement. "I don't know. Because of what I was, I think. I'd earned his respect once. He named me basalit-an because of it. Apparently it was enough that he would try to convert me rather than kill me outright this time around. After all, who better to advocate the Qun to the people of this city than the former Champion of Kirkwall?"
"And now that you've refused the Qun?"
Hawke's lips twisted into a hollow smile. "I'd rather not find out."
"Perhaps you shouldn't stay behind, then." Aveline said lightly, glancing out over the rooftops of the city; Hawke heard and recognized the underlying concern in her words.
"There's no other option," she reminded the captain.
"I know that, and I hate it." She stopped and stared hard at Hawke. "I don't know what it is you're planning, but I can't shake the feeling that I won't be seeing you again."
Hawke's laugh was brittle and abrupt. "I'm not planning to die, Aveline."
"I hope not. I've missed you enough as it is. Two years, Hawke … what kept you away so long this time?"
The mage turned once more to look out over the sea, the action as much an aversion to the question as her silence would have been. "There were complications."
"Anders? The trap he laid?"
Hawke nodded. "That was part of it."
"Will you," Aveline asked quietly, "ever speak of it to me?"
The mage glanced down at her maimed hand, flexed the remaining fingers. "Someday."
"Someday, then."
"When will you and Donnic ride out?"
Aveline pretended not to notice the sudden change in topic. "With the last of the refugees." She paused. "Ironic, isn't it? When we first came here we were the hated refugees to these people, who could never understand having had to flee your home after it had been destroyed. And now here they are," she swept one hand out, indicating the river of lost and bewildered citizens filtering out through the gate, "running away just as we had to."
"They'll understand better now what we Fereldens endured," Hawke agreed, coming to stand again by her friend.
After a short silence, Aveline spoke again. "Some of our mages, that of the guard—they want to stay with you to assist in whatever it is you have planned."
Hawke shook her head. "No. It isn't something they can help me with."
Aveline sighed, a frustrated exhale, "Maker's Bones, Hawke, I trust you but … what can you alone possibly do to stop an entire army?"
The mage faced her friend, placing both hands on her shoulders, the expression on her face solemn. "Aveline, please. I've learned some things, here and there, during my travels. I wouldn't have volunteered for this if I didn't think I was capable."
"Capable of stopping an entire army such as this one? Sometimes I think you scare me."
"Sometimes," Hawke said with a wry, mocking grin, an expression Aveline had not seen on her friend's face for quite some time, "I scare me, too."
But Aveline was not mollified by humor. "I still don't understand your change of heart, not that I'm not thankful. You were hellbent on leaving this city earlier. I know-" she held up a hand to stall the familiar protest she'd heard countless times before. "To hunt Anders. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave, especially now. Kirkwall is lost."
"So are all those people," the mage said, pointing with her whole hand to the north, where a snaking caravan of refugees was visible only by the torches they carried as they wound up the northern road, "if the Qunari aren't stopped here. I can't explain to you why I'm still here. I can't describe to you how badly I want to put an end to Anders. What was said between the Arishok and I, it ..." Here she stopped, frustration creasing her face as she shook her head. "It shook me. I know I've lost sight of a great many things over the years, Aveline. I know I've lost a part of who I used to be. This may be a way for me to get it back. But that's not the only reason I'm still here. If I can stop the Qunari here and give all those people the chance to keep living, I would be worse than Anders if I decided not to try."
She stopped speaking, her words falling heavily into the night air. They faced each other wordlessly for a moment, and then Aveline stepped closer and enveloped her friend in an embrace. Momentarily startled, Hawke stiffened before relaxing and returning the gesture with genuine feeling.
"Promise me," Aveline said when they'd drawn apart, "that I'll see you again."
"I promise that I'll try to fulfill that promise."
The captain snorted. "I suppose that will be good enough." She glanced down at the commotion on the street and sighed. "I should go and check on things, find Donnic. Will you come with me?"
Hawke nodded, her smile a little sad. The time would soon come for them to part ways, and despite what she had told her friend, she really was not certain what the outcome of her plan would be. With an inward sigh, the mage followed the captain to the steps of the gatehouse.
.x.
Dawn arrived with a muted glow, the first rays of the sun to breach the horizon creeping across the sea in a manner that seemed ominously hesitant. Hawke, sitting cross-legged in the space between the rampart's crenellation, found herself wondering if the subdued sunrise was in fact some type of omen. Clouds had gathered over the city, blowing in from over the mountains to the north, and their presence—heavy and dark—promised imminent rain later in the day; later, when the sun had fully risen, it would be lost behind them. The air had grown colder and moist in the dark hours before dawn and Hawke sat hunched beneath her robes in an effort to stave off the wind that spread a chill to her very marrow. The morning's first pale light revealed to her what she had expected to find; the red-sailed ships of the Qunari had moved during the night and were now moored just beyond the harbor. It was not difficult to see, even from this distance, the hundreds of longboats bearing troops steadily making their way to shore.
The fact that the invaders had not met with retribution during their encroach in the night would have alerted them immediately to the evacuation. As Aveline had said told her earlier, there were still people left within the city, those that had refused to believe the threat was so dire that they need abandon everything and those of a lesser fortune, curious to see what the Qun could offer them and hoping that it was better than the lot they'd been cast. Hawke imagined the strictly regimented Qunari soldiers combing through the empty streets and alleys rounding up any who had stayed behind, and imagined them in the dank, dirty tunnels beneath the city, rousting those who had chosen to remain in Darktown. She did not think any of those that had decided to remain were prepared to face the Qunari's ungentle methods.
The last of the Kirkwaller evacuees had disappeared from her sight only a couple of hours before with Aveline, Donnic and a small company of the city guard accompanying them. It seemed remarkable that the hasty evacuation had actually been accomplished, but Hawke knew it was all for naught if the Qunari forces were allowed to pass through the North Gate. The city below her seemed forlorn in its abandonment, devoid of both presence and noise. She had convinced the city's mages to flee along with the rest of the guard and Templars, despite their avid protests that they wished to stand alongside her when it came time to halt the Qunari horde. To them she was still the Champion, an apostate that had risen beyond her born status to achieve great and meaningful things. It was, she mused dryly, convenient how in the face of this invasion they had chosen to forget how easily she'd forsaken the very title and accomplishments they so admired her for. So young they were, so eager—they thought by standing with her against the invaders they could know some of the glory that once upon a time had been hers.
Glory is clear and defined, the Arishok had once told her of the Qun. Experience had made her skeptical of that claim.
The cloud cover spread more quickly than she expected it to, stretching out now over the sea and shrouding the early morning sun completely from sight. That it would rain soon she had no doubt. For a moment she pondered how that would effect what she must do, and decided that she'd rather not dwell on those uncertainties and doubts. Either she would succeed, or …
From a small canvas sack that lay in her lap—a last gift from Aveline—she withdrew a strip of thick dried and salted meat, some hardtack, and an apple. She began to gnaw on the meat as she gazed out over the vacant expanse of the city. Though she could not see more than the water of the harbor, she knew that by now the Qunari would have landed. They would comb with their ruthless efficiency through all the houses, the stores, the warehouses, the alleys they came across and locate anyone unfortunate enough to have stayed behind. It would take them, she estimated, at least two hours to make their way here, to the keep and the North Gate. Plenty of time for her to carefully go over every aspect of her plan.
Plenty of time to worry about it, too.
She finished her meal slowly, every mouthful she swallowed settling as a hard lump in her stomach. When she finished the last bite of the apple she threw the core out into the open before her, watching as it struck the cobbled street far below and burst into several pieces. With the back of one hand she wiped at her mouth, eyes on the ships in the harbor as she contemplated how many troops each one could hold. She glanced down to make certain her staff still lay beside her, running a hand over the familiar warped and blackened haft for the small amount of reassurance it could giver her. The wind suddenly whistled around her and she shivered, drawing up the loose cowl of her hood and tucking her hands protectively into the opposite sleeves of her robe. It offered little in the way of warmth, but she could persevere. She would be warm again soon enough, after all.
Time passed. Hawke made an effort to keep her mind from wandering down paths that lead self-doubt and apprehension, but had little success. A kernel of anxiety had bloomed in her mind and as it grew with each minute leading to the inevitable confrontation, she felt the contents of her stomach begin to roil uneasily. It was strange, her jittery nerves, she mused, for even when face to face with Anders in the past, she'd been able to maintain some semblance of calm. Perhaps it was because the maleficar had become such a familiar threat over the years, or maybe it was because with Anders, she knew that if she were to fail, she would simply die.
She was not so certain her fate if she were to founder here.
By the time she caught sight of the first of the Qunari entering the courtyards of Hightown, tension sang along every nerve in her body. She gripped her staff and came to her feet slowly, watching as rank after rank filed into view, trying to keep count but ultimately failing as a tremor borne of fear and misgiving worked its way up her spine. She watched as a small company broke away from the main group and made its way up the Viscount's Way to enter the keep—that they'd sent so small a number meant they were no longer concerned about encountering resistance. Other groups formed and went off as well to search the houses, and Hawke knew that her former abode would be among those canvassed. Still, the main body of the Qunari force marched on, rounding the corner to gain entry to the street that led directly to the North Gate. And as the vanguard of the force host came into clear view, Hawke's breath left her in a slow and astonished hiss.
Fenris walked among the Qunari.
The Arishok was at the forefront with two Karasaad on either side. That he chose to appear so brazenly at the head of his army was a clear sign that he considered nothing in the city a threat. Even so, he was prepared for battle—Hawke caught sight of both his weapons, axe and sword, riding at his back. The white wolf walked two abreast of the Arishok, his dark armor hauntingly familiar to her, a broadsword in a sheath cutting across his spine. It made terrible, alarming sense to her then as to why, after so long, Fenris would have returned to Kirkwall. He'd been acting as a scout, reconnoitering for the Qunari. Which meant that all along the Arishok had known the true reason she had meant to flee.
She did not linger on the knowledge that Fenris had gone to the Qun, though a large part of her was stunned. In the past he'd openly admitted to admiring it's teachings, but had also stated that to live under its harsh, strict rule would be something he simply could not do. That time had so drastically altered his stance on that issue was surprising, but then again, time was capable of a great many things. Her own transformation over the years was proof enough of that. Still, long moments had passed before she was able to tear her eyes from the elf and focus on the Qunari as a whole.
They had caught sight of her, a shout ringing out from among their number. She watched as heads swiveled to mark her where she stood upon the rampart, to the right of the gate. She felt the eyes of both Fenris and the Arishok land upon her, and for an instant was seized with a near overwhelming urge to turn and run, to leap from the other side of the wall, to find uncertain safety beyond the gate. With great force of will she managed to stifle that inclination. Remaining absolutely still, she took several deep breaths and watched as the Arishok brought his army to a halt some several yards from the gate. She was within range of the spear-throwers, she was certain, and was just as certain that they would not attack. Her instincts proved right; in the long silence that followed the Qunari halt, no move was made to harm her.
Hawke, for a moment ignoring the danger that loomed so forebodingly before her, closed her eyes. From deep within her core she found the bright, ever-shining spark that allowed her to harness the elemental magic that was her birthright, and seized it. It was an effortless thing, to call fire or ice to her fingertips, as easy to do as breathing. Manipulating them was an ability she had never had to think about, having known inherently that it was simply what she was meant to do. A lifetime of practice had led her to new and unexpected discoveries in just what else she was able to do with those powers, led her to the knowledge that she was as potent a weapon as any blade.
And it had been in fighting for her life that she discovered just how destructive she could be.
From that spark at the very center of her being she slowly coaxed forth the flames that were hers to command. Carefully, she channeled their heat outwards, driving it not towards her deft hands but instead fanning it throughout her entire body. She could feel it pulsing beneath her skin, a warmth that drove away the chill she had taken from long hours exposed to the wind, a warmth that pushed gently at the confines of her flesh, seeking a release. And when she felt finally that it had spread throughout the entirety of her body, flooding her muscles and her veins and her blood, she tugged from the spark a sudden gust of energy and used it to kindle the heat that simmered within her.
In the space between one breath and the next, her skin ignited.
The flames were tiny, miniscule and insignificant as they danced along her limbs, so small as to seem to lurk beneath her flesh. They were fueled by the essence of her will and would not falter, not so long as she conscious. It was for this she'd chosen to wear the heavy, voluminous robes, to keep this most consequential of fires hidden. It would not burn through the cloth, not yet; even were someone to touch her bare skin now, all they would feel would be an uncanny heat.
Hawke opened her eyes. The Qunari host still waited below. Taking firm hold of her staff, she made the mental jump to the ground; she winked out of existence only to reappear directly in front of the gate. The invader ranks stretched out before her, the bones of an armored and frightening serpent that had wended its way throughout the emptied city to find her here. Her attention fixed on Fenris for only a moment and that one moment drove home the knowledge that even after seven years, the depths of his hooded green eyes could still leave her feeling shaken. Her gaze slid then to the Arishok, and he spoke.
"Shanedan, Hawke."
She inclined her head in deference, but remained silent. A sudden burst of moisture landed on her cheek, followed by two more in quick succession. She did not have to cast her eyes skyward to know that the clouds had finally decided to deliver their gloomy burden. In the seconds that followed, it began to rain in earnest, becoming a heavy and uninterrupted downpour.
"I did not think," the Arishok said then, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the rain, "to find you still here."
"It wasn't something I had planned," she replied.
"Have you chosen to surrender to the Qun?"
She shook her head. "No."
"Yet you remain when all others of your kind have so foolishly fled. A decision to oppose us would be most unwise. You know this."
The water had quickly soaked into the heavy folds of her robes and they were beginning to cling to her uncomfortably. Even so, Hawke did not hesitate to channel more energy into the fire that flickered over her body, urging it to grow hotter, wilder. She would be able to keep her intent hidden for a little while longer, she knew.
When she spoke next, she pitched her voice to carry beyond the first few gathered Qunari. "I cannot let you pass beyond this gate." Her eyes found the Arishok again as she mirrored his earlier words. "You know this."
"Speak." The Qunari leader said, and for a moment Hawke was confused. She realized then that his order had been for Fenris, and with a disconcerting hollow sensation, she looked to the elf—her once-lover—to await what words he might say.
"Hawke," the white wolf said, "the people of this city are conquered no matter the choice you make here."
The very sound of his voice brought a swift and stabbing pain to her heart; reacting to this, her aura of flames leaped and darted with increasing strength. Reaching around to grab her staff in both hands, she leaned on it hard, wondering why after so many years such a simple thing as a voice could influence her so and hating the fact that it could. The water droplets striking her exposed hands were sizzling; to mask their hiss she replied then to elf.
"If you know me at all, Fenris, then you know that I must try to stop you here."
They stared at each other for a fraction of a second before the elf nodded, something like regret rippling across his face. "I do."
Hawke looked again to the Arishok, feeding once again the fire that bathed her, feeling it grow all around her. "Leave the city. There's nothing for you here."
The Arishok's eyes narrowed. "Submit."
"Is that what you expect of the basalit-an?" She was talking now only to distract their attention, for the flames had become greedy and demanded allowance to grow. From the corner of her eye she could see their flickering red and orange tendrils appear from beneath the cuffs of her sleeves. "Shall I surrender here simply because the odds are insurmountable? I believe you'd call that cowardice, Arishok. Or am I wrong?"
The air around Hawke had begun to steam, great ghostly plumes of it rising on the wind to be scattered by the hard fall of the rain. The fire that encompassed her began to lick the hem of her robes and extend along her wrist and fingers in a wavering dance. The rain could not quell it. Even as Hawke took a step back, even as the Arishok and his Karasaad began to move forward in sudden realization, the fire continued to grow, consuming the fabric that clothed her, wreathing her hood and her hair within it. She felt no pain from the fire, though anyone near her now would suffer the heat; she felt only a terrifying exhilaration she'd felt but once before in knowing that there was no turning back.
They were all coming for her now, a swarm of Qunari descending upon her as a horde with only one intent. And with them ran Fenris, broadsword held securely in his grip, an instrument meant to be her demise. Hawke took two quick steps back and came up hard against the iron portcullis of the gate. She was exactly where she needed to be, and it was then that she funneled all her power, all her will, into the flames that haloed her with a great and terrible light. She became a living inferno, a breathing pillar of pulsing, swirling fire and the suddenness of it all had the Qunari staggering back, away from the searing, blistering heat she was emanating in waves.
She blinked once. The Arishok, still the foremost among his men, was backing steadily away. She could not read the expression on his face through the shroud of now furious flames. She blinked again, let fall her staff and cast her arms wide as she gave one last final, terrific push of power.
The world exploded.
So great was the blastwave that it swept like a raging tide over the Qunari directly before her. She saw it tear their ranks apart, saw them thrown great distances, even as she herself was falling. She hit the ground hard, her world still that of the all-consuming fire and saw in the instants before all consciousness left her the great stones that comprised the North Gate tumbling down all around her.
.x.