Chapter 6

Anders finally released me after another day of forced rest and a thorough examination to make sure I wasn't going to hack up a lung anytime soon. The cool rush of magic he flushed my veins with made goosebumps break out along my arms as he double-checked that no poison was left in my system. Silently I prayed to whatever god would hear me whether it be the Maker, God, or even Thor for all I cared that the glyphs burned into the inside of my gauntlets were strong enough to enclose every drop of mana in my being. They should, I put three on each glove. I let out a deep breath of relief when Anders patted my shoulder with a smile.

"Looks like you can happily flee from my clutches. You're as healthy as an ox."

I smiled my thanks and swung my feet over the side of the cot as soon as Anders moved away. Without his help I carefully stood with the minimum amount of shaking in my legs. I grinned wider.

"Are you going to sing a little song now?"

I groaned at Anders' teasing. "I will never drink again," I swore. I also wouldn't believe Varric when he promised to keep something a secret. Lying rogue, I grumbled.

Varric had his good points though. His visit yesterday wasn't just a convenient stop on his stroll through the city of Kirkwall. He came to the clinic actually to speak with Anders and keep him updated on the latest scuttlebutt about the thieves who suddenly had a change of heart to return to the Qunari what they'd stolen. Heh, scuttlebutt, that's a funny word. Anyway since I was conscious Varric decided to fill me in on the happenings of the past few days. Although I attempted to do the mission to recover the filched saar-qamek in secret, everyone knew of my involvement. Word had spread that I had fallen sick from exposure to the poison gas. The only one to suffer such ill-effects.

I had narrowed my eyes at Anders who raised his hands in innocence; I then turned to a whistling dwarf who seemed too innocent. He quickly confessed to helpfully informing the citizens of my daring deed and my battle with the thieves that included no less than three ogres that I tore apart with my bare hands. Varric didn't seem to care that the last detail was completely ridiculous. He waved off my complaints and continued his tale that also reached the Arishok's ears. The leader of the Qunari requested my presence as soon as I was able Varric mentioned, and also warned me not to do anything stupid this time. The crossbowman precisely listed that pissing off the Qunari with the giant axe was extremely stupid. Yeah, thanks Varric.

"I highly doubt that," the mage drawled.

Shrugging because I also knew that the vow to never drink was an empty one, I began to stretch and carefully walk around. My caution wasn't due because I still felt weak but because of the haughty feline that twirled about my legs in search of attention. Gently I used the heel of my boot to push the cat aside before I fell and received a put-off yowl for my offense. I rolled my eyes. I didn't have time to soothe the hurt feelings of Anders' fussy new pet. Orders from the Arishok were not meant to be ignored, but more importantly neither were my mother's. She wanted me back at Hawke Manor ASAP as soon as I could walk, Varric relayed to me with a shudder. My mother indeed was a frightening woman if she scared the living shit out of the battle-scarred dwarf. Not that I could blame him to be weary around her; I walked on tiptoes when I knew I did something that she wouldn't approve of, for instance what I was about to do now.

"Hand me my armor would you?"

To say that the worst thing that happened the week after I woke up from my exposure to the saar-qamek was meeting with the Arishok to explain my involvement with the theft would be a lie. Although I did walk away from that meeting with one hell of a headache and an almost overwhelming urge to just scream and yell at the stubborn bastard's face. They said that pride was the root of all worldly sins and the Arishok held onto his with nothing less than an iron-hard grip. I could understand the warrior's frustration at the boot-licking nobles who only served their own ideals and never gave a thought to another person. I could understand his need to punish the ones responsible for the death of an innocent boy. But nothing in the world would ever make me see how mindlessly killing people solved any sort of problem. The Arishok was no better than the Templars. Both of them killed things rather than make an effort to understand why people did the things they did. Rarely were situations the shades of black and white they cast them in.

Explaining to my mother what I had been doing to wind up unconscious for four days wasn't even at the top of my list. I wasn't saying that there wasn't a hell of a lot scolding and finger-wagging at my person but my bad week didn't end with enough guilt to level a baseball field. Oh no, the worst part of my week started on Sunday which was supposed to be a day of rest. I thought I would take it easy so I started my day by strolling around Kirkwall while finishing my breakfast. A merchant waved to me, that from Hawke's memories I labeled as the local Herbalist, and I went over to see what he wanted. Hawke hadn't really spoken to the older man outside of his second year at Kirkwall so I actually had no clue why he wished to speak to me. Turns out he asked for a favor; ingredients that I've never heard of before let alone knew where to find them. He said that he didn't need them right away and to just keep an eye out on my travels.

Sure, sounded easy enough. I swung over to Anders' place to ask him if he had heard of the things the Herbalist wanted. He said he knew exactly what they were. Even better he knew where to find two out of the three objects. Hell, to make my job easier he offered to come with me since he needed to stock up on some herbs too. Sounds great, right? On our way out of the city heading to the Wounded Coast, Anders and I bumped surprisingly into Fenris who apparently had nothing better to do on such a beautiful day so he joined the two of us on our meager journey.

Now the little walk along the coast turned into a bro-bonding fest, but I think I was the only one who enjoyed the fresh air and sunshine. Fenris and Anders refused to speak to one another outside of short sentences so my new job description included playing peacemaker. I knew that I wasn't very good at it so I didn't even make an attempt and instead took my fill of the ocean breeze. Damn, the last time I saw the beach was when I was just a kid playing hooky from my father's tutors.

"Tampering around in mud all day, how do the Dalish do it?"

I snorted in laughter at Fenris's disgusted comment as he stopped walking to scrape muck off the bottom of his bare feet. I didn't feel pity for the elf, that's what shoes were for, but I leaned against a large boulder to wait for the swordsman anyway. My gaze instantly turned to the ocean. The water was so…blue, almost the same shade as Caribbean waters. I tried to remember back to my extensive lessons on Earth magic that described what sort of material could be acquired from an area such as this. The rock type of this region was most likely basalt, a plutonic volcanic rock common to oceanic regions and since the water was a lovely shade of light blue meant carbonate deposits and limestone which told me that there were probably colorful reefs along the coast. Since Earth was an element I Mastered in, thorough knowledge of the landscape was required. One had to know what exactly they pulled from the ground in order to use it effectively; it was hard to summon copper when the nearest deposit was a hundred miles away.

"Is there something you want, Anders?"

At Fenris's question, I peeked over my shoulder to see my two travelling companions and one of them was gazing curiously at the other.

"You really don't have the temperament for a slave," the mage idly commented.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned heavier on the grayish-black rock to look back out to the clear waters. I could sense an argument coming; I didn't need magic to know that and I'd rather not be involved with their little hissy fit.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"I'm just wondering how your master didn't kill you."

I could practically see the glare that smoldered into the Healer. "How have the Templars not killed you?"

"I'm charming," Anders quipped.

Fenris grunted in disagreement. "Let's just move on."

It was silent the rest of the way along the coast, but I still hadn't covered the worst part of my day which began with a simple question an hour later.

"Why's it called Harlot's Blush?"

"What are you on about now? I don't know, Hawke. It just is."

"But it's blue!" I protested at Anders' simple explanation.

"So?"

My hand flashed out to point at the small flower that poked out of a fracture in the rock with distinctive blue petals.

"Well, shouldn't it be red?"

The annoyed mage sighed heavily. "What does it matter what color it is?" He asked as he squatted down next to me.

With care, Anders reached out to pluck the flower near the roots. His other hand unfolded a white handkerchief and gently wrapped the plant to replace it back in his pouch with other samples he collected earlier that I didn't know the names of. It looked like a bunch of leaves and twigs to me.

"Harlot's Blush? Blushes are red which means it should be red!" I exclaimed as I stood up.

"Why does it bother you?" Fenris's question came from behind me.

"It bothers me because it's not red! It makes no sense if it's blue!"

"Hawke, you focus your attentions on the strangest things," the swordsman commented idly.

"But it's blue," I mumbled in protest but didn't push my point at Fenris or Anders any longer. They just didn't get it.

Lacing my fingers behind my head I walked around the small clearing we were in that was overshadowed by a cliff face. Other than the snarling remarks made by two full-grown adults that should've been old enough to learn how to play nice with the other children on the playground, and a contradictory flower, today was turning out to be a good one.

Until my senses caught a whiff of magic. It wasn't the placid humming of a mage's natural mana that I felt from Anders a few feet away and it certainly didn't have the scent of the addictively sweet lyrium that drifted along Fenris's lyrium burns. This tasted of smoke, of fire magic.

"Get down!" I yelled to my motley crew.

I didn't have the time to check if my sudden order was followed before I threw myself to the ground as a roaring fireball came shooting across where my head was not a few seconds ago. I felt the intense heat on the back of my neck and years of battle with and against magic instilled such strong instincts which forced me to act. Act as a mage would. Before my brain caught up I already rolled to the side up into a kneeling position with my hand outstretched towards the source of the fireball. When I felt no mana rush into my runes I was a bit confused. Then I realized my gauntlets were still on with the inscribed glyphs that prevented any of my magic to exit my body. Oh, right. I was a swordsman now.

I groaned in irritation. I must look incredibly stupid. Instead of retaliating with my own fireball, I unsheathed my blade that was a constant presence on my back nowadays and glanced over at my companions who also picked themselves off the ground with weapons drawn.

Fenris growled as fiercely as his namesake with his heavy two-handed sword in front of him. "Hunters."

It was as if speaking the word summoned three more men that came out from their hiding places among the cliff's edge right above us. Adding to the six well-equipped mercenaries of whom two were mages, they managed to cut off all exits leading out of the clearing. What a clever trap we managed to stumble into. I placed all the blame on the not-red flower.

Slowly, as to not attract attention, the three of us held our respective weapons before us and stood in a triangle back-to-back. They wouldn't be able to catch us off guard now. However, an ambush needed to only surprise you once to be effective.

A heavy-set man with a handlebar mustache that would put any biker to shame appeared to be the orchestrator of this little surprise attack. He seemed…familiar.

"You are in possession of stolen property. Back away from the slave now and you'll be spared," the man boomed his orders louder than a foghorn.

Now I understood why this situation gave me a bad case of déjà vu. This happened before, in Hawke's memories. How could I have forgotten that Hunters hired by Fenris' old master, Danarius, were actively seeking the escaped slave in order to reacquire the rare lyrium patterns on Fenris' skin? I cursed myself a hundred times over for letting something so life-changing slip my mind. Did I glean over this event because of its lack of focus on me? I was a thousand times the fool for making this idiotic mistake that could very well cost my friend's freedom. I knew, dammit! I knew that Hunters were actively searching for Fenris and yet I made this stupid mistake.

My hands tightened on the hilt of my sword in anxiousness, but I let none of it show as a cocky smile spread itself across my lips. "Is that your first offer? Because it's not a very good one!" I taunted the captain of this shindig.

To my side I felt Fenris twitch at the idea of me willing to make a deal with the slavers. I nudged his ankle with the toe of my boot in reassurance that I would never do such a thing. There was no telling if he understood my silent gesture but I refused to take my eyes off the men on the cliff. One of them was a mage and you never turned your back on a mage. Except for the ones that were on your side.

"Anders," I muttered loud enough for the Healer to barely hear me at his position at my side. "Get ready to throw a fireball."

"Hawke, you know I don't have any fire spells," he hastily whispered back.

"Not one?"

"No!"

"What kind of mage can't throw a fireball? Everyone knows how to throw a fireball!"

"Well, apparently you're wrong!"

"I won't repeat myself. Back away from the slave now!"

The booming voice of the lead Hunter cut off Anders' and mine whispered conversation. Dammit, now what was I going to do?

Might as well try to stall as my brain furiously tried to come up with a plan. "You're not very good at this bartering thing," I called back. "You're supposed to offer me a better deal not repeat the same one!"

I could practically feel when the entire situation fell completely out of control. There was a strong burst of pure energy that tasted of lyrium which made me tremble down to my very bones and I heard Fenris scream defiantly to the heavens.

"I am not your slave!"

"Fenris, wait!"

But my command to hold his position fell on deaf, pointed ears as he rushed the three men and women who blocked the north exit in a fit of lethal rage. There went the whole stalling plan down the tube.

Now this was officially the worst part of my week.

Hurriedly I brought the flat part of my blade in front of my face to protect it from the sudden ice spell the mage above us casted. Frigid icicles smashed against the steel and stray particles sliced shallowly across my face. Being pinned down by novice magic was dangerous as well as extremely insulting. My fingers were practically tingling with the need to show this neophyte mage how magic was really done.

But again, I was a swordsman now.

After a second wave of icicles I decided that it was enough. With Anders busy shielding and sending arcane bolts of pure mana at his set of enemies I was on my own with the smirking Hunters who clearly had the advantage of higher ground. For a moment I hesitated reaching for the knife buried in the leather of my boot but I knew that I didn't have a choice. That mage was really getting on my nerves. When the third barrage of ice dug deeper into the cuts on my face finally I pulled the knife and only years of practice with short blades allowed me to flick my wrist expertly to send it straight at the robed man that had his staff coated with another ice spell. The Hunter appeared unafraid of the hurled blade that spun towards his unarmed head. His staff glowed with a different spell that I recognized as an arcane shield that would surely make the knife bounce harmlessly off.

I smirked.

The steel dip of my weapon touched the very outer edges of the bubble like shield the mage set around him and my knife burned an emerald green before it sliced through the mana barrier like warm butter. I savored the surprised look on the mage's face when the dagger continued unhindered, if a little off-course from the burst of magic, and stuck a perfect landing deeply into his shoulder. One down, two to go.

Or so I thought until Fenris raced up the cliff-side with his colossal greatsword raised high above his head. Well, it looked like he had those two under control. I turned around to see Fenris' original set of enemies dead on the ground and Anders struggling with the last mercenary who wouldn't allow any distance to give Anders time to shoot off a spell. Anders raised his wooden staff in defense to block a wild chop meant to decapitate him. I could hear the mage grunt in effort to ward off the mercenary. His arms began to shake from the sheer strength of his opponent and I knew Anders couldn't last much longer. With a hard shove, he sent the Healer off balance and into an uncertain stance that left Anders wide open.

Figuring that Fenris could take care of himself, I ran over to the mage while stepping over a young woman of a similar profession who Anders had taken out earlier. The sharp clang of metal slamming against metal echoed in my ears as I caught the blow meant to kill the staff-wielding man. I grunted when I could feel the power behind the swing all the way up my arms. These Hunters definitely ate their Wheaties this morning.

We locked blades and I dug my boots into the soft sand for a bit of traction as I tried to gain an advantage. The Hunter would have none of that. He gripped his sword with two hands to add more pressure and steadily began to push my own sword to the side. Thankfully the Captain of the Kirkwall guards had taught me a neat trick to use in a situation very similar to this one. Use your head, Hawke, Aveline yelled at me during practice one day.

So I did. Literally.

I was lucky he didn't have a helmet. My forehead smashed into his that had me seeing stars but it was enough to end the stalemate between us. My sword, now free, whipped downwards to unbalance the hold the Hunter had on his blade and once he was unarmed I dug my sword into the gap between the straps that cinched the man's armor together. His ribs made only a slight resistance as I twisted and struck his heart. I pulled my blade free. The Hunter was dead before he hit the ground.

Mischievously, I turned around sheathing my sword once I was sure that the Hunter wasn't going to get back up any time soon. "So, regretting coming for an early morning stroll now?"

Anders shook his head in amusement and his staff tapped the ground a few times. "I seem to have forgotten over the years how much trouble you manage to attract, Hawke."

"Wasn't my fault this time," I protested and gestured up at the cliff where the real culprit struck down the last hired man.

Once the chaos of battle had died down I could hear a faint cry on the wind. "My magic! By the Maker, I can't feel my magic!"

It was the mage I pinned with my knife. He was still alive. I didn't wait for Anders to follow me as I took the most straight-forward path up the cliff and watched as Fenris stalked over to his hapless prey when I reached the top. With barely contained anger, Fenris knelt by the injured mage who helplessly gripped the dagger in his shoulder with bleeding fingers. In his claws, the elf clenched the front of the mage's robes and effortlessly pulled a bit to lift his head off the ground.

"Where is he?" Fenris growled his demand.

The captured man whimpered. "My magic. My magic is gone!"

"And so will your life if you don't answer me, mage!" Fenris slammed the back of the man's head into the dirt. He brought the Hunter back up and snarled. "Tell me where Danarius is!"

"I don't know!"

Again he slammed the mage's skull against the ground. "Tell me!"

"I don't know, I swear!"

"You lie!"

"Fenris!" I yelled when I could have sworn I heard bones crack from the force Fenris used to get answers. "A dead man can't answer your questions!"

"Stay out of this, Hawke," he barked at me but eased his grip a little and asked the mage quieter. "Where is he?"

Finally, the injured man confessed. "It was Hadriana!" He shouted and winced as Fenris shook him a bit to continue. The wound in his shoulder bled sluggishly. "She brought us here. She's at the holding caves north of the city. I can…show you the way! Just please don't kill me!"

"You chose the wrong master."

I couldn't have stopped him even if I wanted to. Fenris gripped the hilt of the dagger in the mage's shoulder and smoothly pulled it free. I winced as the blade glowed in full sight of everyone around us. Fenris glanced curiously at the knife for a moment before he plunged it back into the mage but this time it sunk deeply into his heart.

Slowly, Fenris stood from his kneeling position staring listlessly at the dead man with his back to me and Anders who was silently positioned by my side.

"Hadriana," the swordsman mused to himself in a low, dangerous tone. I almost reached for the pommel of my sword. "I was a fool to think I was free." He turned from his stance and clenched his fist. "They'll never let me be. Not while I still breathe."

I really didn't like how Fenris wasn't yelling or flailing his fists about in his anger. Instead he stood there, still, seemingly calm. He seemed more dangerous somehow. Cautiously, I took a few steps towards the simmering elf.

"Hadriana? I assume she's part of your past." I already knew who the deplorable woman was. From Hawke's memories I gleamed that she was really a piece of work: a dangerous, deluded, deceiving blood mage that lived to make other people miserable. Especially Fenris. Yes, I knew about her, but I still wanted the angry swordsman to talk to me. Maybe speaking about it would calm him down a bit.

"Yes," Fenris answered after a few breaths. "She's my old master's apprentice. I remember her well." He turned his head to the side and crossed his arms defensively over his chest as if to ward off invisible blows. "She's a sniveling social climber that would sell her own children if she thought it would please Danarius. If Hadriana's here, it's at his bidding. I knew he wouldn't let this go!"

The last part of his explanation finally showed his fury that was boiling beneath the surface. Furiously he began to pace.

"The holding caves held slaves in the old times, but apparently they are no longer abandoned. We must go quickly, before Hadriana has a chance to prepare…or flee."

"We're the ones that need to prepare. I don't think it's a very good idea to storm a fortress brimming with an unknown amount of traps, blood mages, and most likely innocent slaves with only three people. We've got friends who wouldn't mind helping you, Fenris," I spoke my plan softly and slowly, but his temper ignored my placating words.

"Friends? I don't have any friends!" He spat the word like it was poison. Fenris stopped his pacing and pointed a claw on his gauntlet at me. His deep voice rumbled like thunder. "And speaking of ideas, just what were you thinking when you tried to negotiate with slavers? Have I outlived my usefulness to you? Were you going to sell me off? Maybe buy a slave of your own? Tell me, Hawke!"

It took a lot of effort not to slug the elf who basically accused me of being a slaveholder. He was upset and was just lashing out, I told myself. Anger makes people do stupid things.

I took a deep breath. "Fenris, when have you ever seen me take the slavers' side?"

"Bah. Humans change their minds so quickly."

Because what sort of one-sided argument wasn't complete without a few racial slurs?

I hadn't been accused of being an elf-hater before but that was probably because there were no elves in my time. The insult barely stung me though. Being a free mage in a non-mage dominated world presented me with plenty of opportunities to be openly hated. I'm not saying I enjoyed the prejudice, but I was sadly used to it. Although, some people feared us instead and that was something that never set well with me. Only tyrants, taxes, and tarantulas had the right to be feared.

"Believe me, I'm not going to change my mind to hit you if you keep taking your frustration out on me," I told the swordsman firmly.

Fenris paused for a moment to take in the not so subtle threat but waved it away a second later. "I don't want to talk about this anymore. We need to find her. I will not allow Hadriana to escape my grasp so easily."

"Fine," I agreed. "But first we go back to Kirkwall."

"No! That takes too much time. We go now, or I do."

He was making this diplomacy thing really hard; I wasn't even good at it in the first place.

"Do people from Tevinter not know how to bargain?" I muttered under my breath, perfectly aware that Fenris could hear me. "Fine," I said again. "But I'm stating, for the record, that this is a bad idea which means I reserve the right to say 'I told you so' if shit hits the ceiling. Let's go…Anders?"

When I turned around to address the mage he wasn't standing where I last saw him. I was about to ask Fenris if he'd seen where Anders went, but I answered my own question as I turned. Crouching low to the enemy mage's body, the Healer was curiously examining the knife that Fenris had used to kill the Hunter. Clean of blood, the dagger shone brilliantly in the early morning sunlight. However its sheen wasn't what interested the mage, but rather the arcane symbols engraved in its blade.

Elegant black loops encircled in a ring bore a striking resemblance to a blazing sun. Of course I couldn't have known that from where I was standing, the symbols were much too small, but I didn't need to see them to know that they were there. I mean, I burned them on the steel edge myself. Containment glyphs were meant to be used against mages; I just used them more creatively than the Templars.

They were perfectly harmless unless a magical source strayed into their reach and then the glyph would clamp instantly onto a mage's mana like a Venus Fly Trap ensnared prey by just the lightest touch. It wouldn't even give off a spark if a person without mana sat on a containment glyph. However, it would glow if any mage, with their natural mana, got near it…exactly as it was doing now with Anders drawing his finger closer to the archaic writing.

"Anders, I really don't think-!"

"Ah!" The Healer yelped and immediately jerked back his finger as if the knife had bitten him. "Andraste's blood," he swore in surprise.

His shock didn't stop his curiosity though he was a bit more cautious when he reached for the glyph again. The symbols flushed a demure emerald once magic came into contact and faded into obscurity when the mage removed his hand. A brilliant smile overcame his face and Anders stood up from his crouch to wave the blade in front of my face.

"Hawke, do you know what this is?" He asked me with the excitement akin to a boy hiding a toad in his pocket.

"Um, a knife?"

"Of course it's a knife! But do you know what this does?"

"…Stabs people." Well, it did. He couldn't fault me for that.

Anders ignored my obvious attempt at playing stupid. "It somehow removes magic from a mage if touching this strange symbol, more specifically their skin. It won't work if it's on cloth. It's also temporary! As soon as I'm not touching it, I feel my magic again! Hawke, where in Thedas did you get this knife?"

"I bought it from a merchant," I told him honestly while completely dodging the fact that I had indeed bought the knife just sans the containment glyph.

"Do you remember which one?" He asked me urgently.

I shook my hands in front of me. "I haven't a clue. It was a while ago." Also true.

Anders looked downward in disappointment, but quickly seemed to get over it. "Can I keep this? Well, borrow it actually; I want to study the symbols."

There weren't actually any rules that one had to follow when time-travelling as anyone caught messing with the past was quickly found, arrested/killed, or no one found out about it and life went on. I, however, have read a few science fiction novels and I knew giving future knowledge to the technologically-handicapped locals of the past never worked out for the main character in the end.

"Well-," I began.

"Thanks, Hawke." Anders expressed his gratitude absently as the knife absorbed his full attention.

"Anders, wait a minute-!"

"Hawke, let's go. We've wasted enough time," Fenris ordered gruffly and didn't bother to wait for the mage and me to respond before walking away.

Shit. This was going to end badly, my gut told me by twisting itself into knots.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Leave a review, please!