Goodness Spent
Chapter Seven: Freeing Karl

When it came to the Chantry, no expense was spared in upkeep or appearance. The trees planted beside the monument outside the Chantry flourished, green and vivid against the cool grey stone that made up all of Hightown. Vines curled around the pillars, adding life where even the blood red banners featuring the Andrastian Sun couldn't influence, and the smell of incense floating down from the oppressively tall building filled the air; there'd been a fruitful evening service.

Watching Anders pacing back and forth, Evelyn sniffed in annoyance at the incense. Her early life had been filled with that blend of scents, burning constantly in the Chantry she'd been forced to stay in prior to joining her kind in Kinloch Hold. The smell reminded her of that dark time, listening to the prayers in the distance while left with nary a candle to light her moonless bedchambers. And of course, even the tower they'd corralled every mage in Ferelden had its own Chantry, so the incense had flooded the hallway back then, too.

The reminder of everything she'd deliberately left behind soured her already anxious disposition, and Anders' fretting wasn't improving her mood. She caught his arm, startling him from his thoughts. "Anders, please. If you keep that up, you'll draw attention to us! We really don't need to be any more conspicuous than we already are!"

He tensed, then eased into her touch on his arm, patting her hand lightly with an uncertain smile. "You're right. I apologize, I'm just..."

"Nervous?" She chuckled. "Reuniting with an old friend will do that. Especially given the inherent danger in what we've got planned. Plus, relying on a third party to help us with this..."

He frowned. "Do you think I should have asked her for aid in this? When so much can go wrong..."

There was a pause where Evelyn kept her gaze on the surrounding plaza, gathering wool. She sighed. "I've lived the last few years of my life completely free by trusting no one else. Never asking for help, nor accepting it when offered, because you never know when they've got a dagger in the hand they're holding behind their back while shaking hands with you. Trust is a luxury that I cannot afford. So my instinct is to tell you that involving this woman was a mistake, that we're only exposing ourselves to more danger."

He nodded thoughtfully, his brow furrowing in conflict. Seeing this, Evelyn smiled and patted his arm reassuringly. "But then, I broke my own rule when it came to you. And I do not regret it. I have found a friend where I would have least expected it, and an ally against the very forces who would do me harm. And, well, it's strange..." she grinned in confusion, "But she gives me this weird feeling... like I know her from somewhere. Something that resonates with me, and tells me we can trust her."

She met his gaze then, and stopped. He regarded her with such warmth, a rare soft expression where his guarded, contemplative look melted away, and infinite kindness shone through instead. His fingerpoint touch on her hand, which hadn't moved since they'd made contact, gently eased flat, and Evelyn was only vaguely aware of a voice in the back of her head telling her that he didn't want that, don't believe his eyes, his touch...

"I...know what you mean," he said at last, pulling back from her gaze. "I still have my doubts- it's hard not to when a woman like that dances into your life and promises to help- but you're right. I wouldn't have asked her if I hadn't gotten the impression she would help." He grinned. "Besides, she needs something from me, too, so it's not like she'll go running off on the deal just to break it."

"Oh, she needs something from you alright," Evelyn muttered, and let her linked arm with his slide loose, stepping away. "And not just those maps."

He stared for a long moment, confused, before breaking into a wide grin. "And just what could you be talking about?"

She rolled her eyes skyward. "I don't think she could've been more obvious than if she'd stripped you right then and there. But hey, I suppose that could be another deal you strike with her- a nicer bed to lie in in exchange for letting her have her way with you."

He scoffed at her frankness, his grin broadening. "I don't... Evelyn, are you jealous?"

She scowled at him, blue eyes sharpening. "No, I'm not jealous. There's nothing to be jealous of. I may be a bit put off at her advances towards you, but I'm not jealous."

"You do realize you're not convincing anyone with that?" He smirked; mirth felt good, crackling in his veins. And teasing Evelyn was rare enough; very little seemed to get her flustered. Of course, he didn't let himself consider why he enjoyed seeing her get flustered, turning pink at the edges of her face.

"I swear by Andraste's Pyre that if you don't knock that off, I'm setting fire to you!" She cried, and while there was no intent to follow through on such a threat, some genuine distress had leaked into her tone.

"Fine, fine," he put up both hands defensively. "I'll drop it."

Deliberately facing away from him, she nodded. Fantastic; now she had to fight down the burning in her face. And he wasn't even slightly perturbed by any of this! That got under her skin worse than anything- when she was the one flirting with him, he recoiled as though fleeing a threat. But when this Lysandra openly addressed her desire for him, he'd smiled. Smiled! But she wasn't jealous, oh no.

He watched her while her back was turned, noting the pink in her ears with pleasure- against his better judgment. "Thank you, by the way. For being here with me, I mean."

She didn't face him. "You don't need to thank me for that. If this gives you some measure of peace, then I'll fight tooth and nail for it."

"Did you ever consider how remarkable that is?" He stroked the stubble on his jaw, smirking. "I can honestly say that I have never met anyone like you, willing to risk so much for someone you barely know."

" 'Barely know', hmm?" Against the shadows of the surrounding city, she turned her face profile to him. "I suppose it hasn't been very long, has it? I forget that, sometimes." The edges of her lips curled upwards. "I feel like I've known you all my life."

"Which won't last much longer if the two of you keep chatting like old ladies!" A voice hissed from behind them. Jerking from their reverie, Anders gawped at the sight of Lysandra and her sister. Evelyn, on the other hand, scowled outright.

"Where did you come from?" Anders asked, bewildered. Had he truly been so distracted by his conversation with Evelyn?

"My parents. And more recently, Lowtown," she replied, shifting weight to one hip contemptuously. "But if you'd actually been paying attention instead of making eyes at each other, you wouldn't be asking that question in the first place."

"We weren't-"

"Oh hush," Lysandra dismissed the protest with a fluttering wave of her hand. "That's unimportant. So what's the plan, here?"

"Nothing too complicated," Anders assured her. "I go in, speak with Karl, and we leave, escaping back to Darktown with him."

"Ugh, any plan that ends in Darktown ought to be reconsidered," Lysandra grumbled, her nose wrinkling.

"Perhaps your involvement ought to be reconsidered." Evelyn glowered at Lysandra, arms crossing.

"Nuh-uh, I'm getting those maps, and you aren't stopping me." Lysandra winked, amused by the mage's glare. "But if we're doing this, we better get going soon. There are two guards on patrol headed this way in about five minutes. I've got Varric positioned to give us a warning if they get too close to our location, but if we, you know, go inside, he shouldn't have to."

"Right," Anders agreed. His hand went to the small of Evelyn's back, meaning to guide her towards the Chantry doors and away from the streets. Instead, she recoiled from his touch like a hot iron, and stiffly stalked forward of her own accord. The question was on the tip of his tongue, but as she cracked the door open just barely wide enough to let her slim frame through, he felt Bethany's hand on his arm. Glancing to her awkward, apologetic smile, he took her encouragement and followed the others into the Chantry.

He would have to ask Evelyn about the shadows that crossed her face when his fingers barely grazed her back another time.

-xxx-

The immensity of the great hall of the Chantry was almost boggling to behold, especially to Evelyn, who had rarely been inside a full Chantry since her escape from Kinloch Hold years ago. Back then, the 'Chantry' had been a walled-off room with a few altars, several pews, and shelves of religious texts. The statues there had been life-sized, blank and worn away with age, and little adorned the walls. Here, tapestries draped from a ceiling that seemed to reach to the very stars- no, wait, that was just how someone decided to paint the ceiling. The chamber needed the room, however, to fit the gigantic golden statue of Andraste, which towered ominously over all proceedings in Her presence.

Gazing up at the sheer size of the chamber, awed despite her broken faith, Evelyn's foot caught a patch of melted wax from the candles lining the entire room. She wobbled, which broke her from absorbing the enormity of the hall, but maintained her footing. After a moment of internally cursing whoever thought it was such a great idea to burn candles directly on the ground and leave a pile of wax everywhere you looked, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. After all, neither Anders nor the Hawke sisters seemed fazed by this Chantry; she didn't need to make herself feel the Odd Woman Out any more than she already did.

"He should be right up these stairs," Anders murmured, half to himself, after banking to the right. His pace had picked up considerably since entering the great hall, almost as though he were racing against some other force.

Indeed, almost as though summoned by Anders' urgency, a man appeared in the rest area at the top of the staircase, facing the desk before him with a contemplative posture. Upon sight of the figure, Anders straightened, his eyes widening in relief. A faint smile touched his features, and Evelyn couldn't shake the impression of a loved one reuniting with family. Lysandra and her sister began immediately searching the room for signs of templar presence, accustomed to the role from years of practice, and while Anders immediately strode towards the man in question, Evelyn could only follow a few paces behind, uncertain how much help she was actually bringing to the table. 'Moral Support' only carried so much weight, after all.

"Anders, I know you too well," the man intoned softly, sending goosebumps over Evelyn's skin. "I knew you would never give up."

"What's wrong?" Anders asked, worry tightening his expression. "Why are you talking like-"

The man, Karl, faced them then. His dark hair had greyed already, his beard neatly trimmed, the faint wrinkles indicating his age smoothed with apathy. His eyes were an icy blue that stared emptily before him, seeing all but caring nothing for what he saw. What jarred Evelyn the most, however, was the fresh, bright red mark of the Holy Sun symbol branded onto his forehead. At the same moment, a sharp gasp choked Anders.

"I was too rebellious. Like you. The templars knew I had to be... made an example of." He nodded his head by way of gesture.

Frozen, anguish rinsing the hope from his face, Anders shrank back in horror. When he could get anything past the lump in his throat, he choked out, "No!"

A tint of pity entered Karl's gaze, as though a parent trying to teach an unruly child. "How else will mages ever master themselves? You'll understand, Anders."

"Uh, guys?" Lysandra's voice cracked as she backed into the resting area, her hands on the hilts of her blades. "We got a problem!"

Karl continued, unabated by Lysandra's warning. "As soon as the templars teach you to control yourself."

Both mages twisted towards where Karl's gaze had gone just beyond them. Advancing from all angles, clad in the shining armor specially designed for their kind, were nearly a dozen templars- arms at the ready. Evelyn's eyes widened, and her hand went to the staff strapped to her back out of instinct. Anders, on the other hand, seemed to struggle to comprehend what he was seeing.

"This is the apostate," Karl addressed to the templars, gesturing at Anders.

Evelyn would later be able to ascribe words to the sensation of the air thinning around them. At first, she was certain it was the kick of fear gripping her lungs, but then a bright flash of light filled the room. Templars momentarily forgotten, she looked to the source of the light; Anders. Horrified, she saw blue light cracking through his very skin, his eyes burning and swirling with the same strange light. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his head, and a black smoke rose around him.

"A...Anders...?" Evelyn whimpered.

The smoke erupted into blue flame, the cracks of light multiplying across skin, through his very clothing. Yanked to his feet again, he staggered as though unaccustomed to the feel of his own weight. He swayed to and fro, rage distorting his face as he snarled at the templars. When he spoke, a deeper voice rumbled out of his chest, an unnatural echo warping around his words to bellow, "You will never take another mage as you took him!"

Evelyn's grip on her staff slackened, the color completely drained from her face. This... What was this? The fury of a mage consumed by grief was a trickling droplet compared to the surge of energy pouring out of Anders now. There was no force on Thedas that could explain what she felt emanating from him now. Then, with a terrified yelp, she dropped her staff and let it clatter to her feet.

"An abomination!" One of the templars cried, stunned by the display as much as Evelyn was.

"Are you serious!?" Lysandra shouted indignantly, fighting to keep herself between Bethany and the templars. "Of all the things we need right now, I wouldn't list an abomination anywhere near the top!"

"Sister, there are more pressing issues at the moment!" Bethany pleaded, her fingers already crackling with fire to unleash on the templars- who were already starting to recover from their shock, and now all the more determined to put these apostates down.

"Right, right," Lysandra agreed hastily, "Alright, so, set fire to the men in armor, and I'll kick them down the stairs. Sound like a plan?"

"Sure!" Without wasting a beat of time, Bethany let loose the fire she had been gathering in a straight blast over a line of templars. They screamed their disapproval of this decision.

One templar grabbed Evelyn from behind, pinning her arms together. Grunting in pain, Evelyn jumped backwards into the templar, knocking him off-balance just enough to get one good kick to his crotch. Just as he doubled over forward, releasing her arms, she spun around and brought her elbow down on the back of his neck with all her strength.

"Ungh!" The templar groaned as the world went black. But his choice in captive had not gone unnoticed.

"FIENDS!" Anders cried in rage, another surge of energy flowing from him. With speed no human should ever move at, he leapt across the room to the other templars advancing on Evelyn, his hands glowing as they threatened to tear apart the very air itself. "YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HER!"

Evelyn tried to grip at his robes, but her fingers couldn't seem to wrap around the fabric. He sent one blast of concussive force at a group of three templars preparing to run him through, then rounded on the remaining templar near him, his hands going to the man's throat and clenching. Hard.

"Anders, stop! Stop!" Evelyn pleaded, finally grabbing his shoulders and pulling away- to no avail. Blood gurgled from the templar's mouth, and he fell limp. And even this was not enough to sate his anger; he ripped away from Evelyn after one of the ones he'd knocked away.

"Men, Retreat! Retreat I sai-glugh!" The lieutenant in charge of this capture sputtered, his order dribbling out with the blood leaking from the dagger embedded in his throat. Lysandra yanked her blade free again, sneering down at him.

"A little too late to give that order, doncha think, you stupid bastard?" She kicked his shoulder pauldron in frustration. "An ambush, you little fucker! You devious little bastards!"

As the last templar fell to Anders' magic, Evelyn finally got her arms around him from behind. With the physical contact bolstering her, she shouted piercingly, "Anders! Stop! It's over!"

He rounded on her then, his eyes staring straight through her, breathing heavily. She met his gaze unflinchingly, and slowly, the glow faded from his eyes, the cracks leaving his skin. He sagged in her arms, horror dawning where rage had once consumed.

"I- Anders, what did you do?" From where they'd left him, Karl spoke haltingly, warily. "It's like... you brought a piece of the Fade into this world." He shook his head, and he regarded Anders in awe. "I had already forgotten what that feels like."

"Karl, you..." Evelyn stammered blankly, "Aren't you Tranquil? H-how can you speak so... so emotively?"

"I thought once they stamped your forehead with that strange tattoo, you guys were completely cut off from the Fade. And, uh, feelings." Lysandra trotted over, stepping over the bodies of the templars.

"It's... impossible to describe," Karl shook his head, disturbed, before looking to Anders. "But you, Anders. It's like the Fade itself is inside you. Burning like a sun. I felt...oh, Maker, I felt...!"

Terror washed over Karl, who nearly folded in half as he gripped his head. Tears filled his eyes, and sobs wracked his body. Anders stood, started to move to his side, but stopped several feet away. "Please, kill me before I forget again! I don't know how you brought it back, but it's fading!"

Anders shook his head, his voice trembling. "Karl, no-"

"Isn't there something we can do? Like, cure it for him?" Lysandra ventured.

"Can you cure a beheading!?" Anders snapped. "The dreams of Tranquil mages are severed- there is nothing left of them to fix!"

"Evidently, there is something missing in that theory," Evelyn pointed out softly. "Whatever it was you did just now, Anders...it gave him respite from being Tranquil."

Refusing to even glance at Evelyn, Anders stared morosely at his old friend. "But it's impossible to...bring them back..."

"I would rather die a mage than live as a templar puppet," Karl insisted, glancing between Anders and his friends.

"I could never imagine..." Tears stung at Evelyn's eyes as her voice hitched on her words. "Death would be preferable to being empty."

"I got here too late," Anders muttered to himself. "I'm sorry, Karl. I'm so sorry..."

"Now! It's fading!" Karl shouted, desperate. His head tipped forward, then raised, meeting Anders' gaze evenly. The tears that had flowed freely now dried on his face. "... Why do you look at me like that?"

Finally stepping closer to Karl, Anders regarded him with sorrow. Pressure in the palm of his hand- something cold, hard- awoke him from his agony. He looked to what Lysandra had given him- one of her knives. Looking to her in askance, he was shocked to see her gaze hardened, saddened by being witness to this. She nodded once, then turned to console her sister- whose hands clapped around her mouth in sadness.

"Goodbye."

The horrendous slice of blade against flesh echoed in the giant chamber, in the silence of the dead and the statues. Not even a gasp left Karl as the knife entered him. What little life had been left in the shell of the mage was finally severed, and he dropped, the strings of his puppeteers no longer holding him on his feet. He was free, just as he'd wished all these years.

Just not in a way either he or Anders had accounted for.

"We should leave before more templars come." This time, it was Anders' turn to speak in a monotone. He dared not allow his voice above the flat inflection, or he would start screaming. He saw nothing in front of him as he descended the stairs, only the brief flicker of relief on Karl's expression when the final cord of his life had been cut.

In time, he would drown the irony of his mission's 'success' in freeing Karl in blood.