Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter. I really appreciated hearing from you: Jenna53, AndAgain, Lucy's Echos (cool name!), Lalauria, Shi, Nette, Zevgirl, Aynslesa, Biff McLaughlin, Wren Wild, rubberleg, Lady of Embers, 1ScaryLady, Xaiael, RowenPaperwhite. You all are awesome!
~o~o~o~
Zevran didn't sleep the day away. He was out shopping for supplies, returning to the Hanged Man with two bags filled with ropes, string, grappling hooks, face-darkening paint, lock picks, and a pair of spare daggers. He was ready to climb the side of The Gallows. According to the map given to them by Orsino there was an external wall on Lucy's cell. It might have a small window, perhaps barred. It was another option and, just as importantly, it made him feel less helpless.
Hawke knocked quietly at their door just after sunset. "You look ready," she said as she walked in.
Anders looked vastly better than he had that morning, but both men were taut with anticipation, even though a rejuvenation spell had wiped away any residual weariness. Hawke looked equally ready. Her dark eyes seemed to glow in the candlelight. This was a woman spoiling for a fight, Zevran judged. Some thwarted need for violence simmered just below the surface, and he was fairly sure that the root of that brutal impulse was the elf, Fenris. Something about this woman reminded him, oddly enough, of Riordan. The thought sent a little pang of loss through him. Enough! He wiped away the emotion and focused on the task. Either they would succeed, or he would join Riordan in the Fade.
A sloop, the smuggler's favored craft, was waiting for them. They were eight, the Kirkwall companions Merrill, Varric, Hawke, Isabela, Fenris, and Karl, and then Zevran and Anders. Fenris looked more subdued, Zevran noted, but Hawke was continually sending sharp glances his way.
The Antivan's eyes slid over to Anders who had also successfully taken measure of the two. They shared a secretive smile. Speaking of thwarted love interests, Karl was standing at the edge of the boat, a wistful look on his face as he looked at Anders. Interesting. There was something there too. That might be a conversation for later.
"What awaits us, Karl?" Hawke asked.
"A pair of guards at the back entrance, but if we're stealthy we can avoid them entirely. The rocks that protect the coastline conceal a secret entrance."
They loaded the boat in silence and each one got on carefully. Isabela hoisted the black sail and they disappeared into the night. The ride wasn't a long one, but the winds were low and against them. The little boat had to tack back and forth to make headway.
No one was talking, including the elf, Fenris, but he was glowering again. Once Zevran caught him glaring at Anders, but he shifted his eyes away slowly, conveying his distrust and dislike of the mage. Everyone else had seemed to welcome them and sympathize with their cause. All but the elf. What would possess someone like Hawke to suffer that fractious elf's moods? Some humans—and Lucy was definitely one of them—felt guilty for the suffering of his kind. It was a trait he never understood. Lucy hadn't contributed to the oppression of elves. That might explain Hawke's abundance of tolerance, or perhaps there was something else tying these two together. The elf was handsome, and Hawke, despite her ferocity, or perhaps because of it, was also very attractive.
Ah well, this was clearly not his problem. He pushed the intrusive speculation away, submerging his doubts and fears, and quieting the circling thoughts until he was prepared. Normally the only people who saw this focused, emotionless side of him were his victims or his fellow Crows. He barely noticed the puzzled look Anders gave him. The extraneous and irrelevant were filtered out; his senses were heightened.
There, off in blackness of the night, was something. Its presence was only detectible because it blocked part of the night sky. As they drew closer what had seemed like stars were dimly lit windows. She was on the second floor, but which of those windows was hers?
Isabela anchored the sloop a good ways from the pier, out of sight of any guards. They lowered a dingy over the side and got in, four at a time, and ferried over to the dock, rowing as quietly as possible.
Zevran climbed up the pier first. He wrapped a grappling hook with cloth to muffle its sound. Tossing it up to the dock, he hooked it around a piling and then climbed up quickly, reaching down to take the weapons, or bags, from the others as they climbed up. Fenris stayed with the dingy and rowed back to the sloop to pick up the others. When all were finally on the pier, Karl led the way to the secret entrance, silently pointing out the location where the two guards were stationed.
The moonless night was dark and no one tripped over their feet, so the guards weren't alerted. Before the dock met the shore, they leapt down onto the rock jetty. Karl held up a hand alerting everyone to watch him. He pointed at a large boulder and walked into it.
"An illusion," Anders whispered. He followed after Karl and disappeared too.
The rest of the infiltrators followed and found themselves in a long narrow hallway, which soon split into two hallways. Karl paused and kindled a bright mage light. After searching the walls for a moment, he saw something and pointed to it. Zevran saw something that looked like it might be an intentional marking, but it was very subtle.
"Periodically I'd find a sideways V when I was wandering these tunnels. The narrow end points to the exit, so the thick end…"
"Leads to the Hero," Hawke said.
Karl nodded.
"Do you sense her yet, Anders?" Hawke asked.
He shook his head. "Nothing yet. The Gallows is a big building and we're underground."
They followed Karl who seemed to have an easier time spotting the markings. The tunnels were narrow, but surprisingly regular, as if carved out of the earth by intention, not just mages or slaves seeking to escape.
"Stop!" Anders hissed.
They were in the middle of a tunnel, distinctly headed upwards.
"What is it, Twitch?" Zevran asked.
"I feel something. I think it's her," he replied.
"Good! Which way?" Hawke said.
Anders considered for a moment. "Perpendicular. Not in the direction of this hallway."
"Perhaps there is a turn up ahead," Merrill said. They proceeded up the hallway, noting the ground was rising.
"What do you sense?" Zevran asked Anders after they walked another ten minutes.
"We're going in the wrong direction. She's getting further away," he replied tersely.
They walked on since there was no option to change their direction without back-tracking. After another quarter hour of walking and there was another pair of tunnels. One headed in the direction Anders had indicated while the other tunnel clearly had the sideways V showing the way.
"These tunnels twist and turn, Anders. It could be that we'll come around ninety degrees and you will sense her in the direction we're headed," Karl said.
"Or we could be going in the wrong direction entirely," Anders replied. "What if she isn't in her room?"
"We know where her cell is," Hawke said. "Orsino drew us a map."
Anders stopped, rubbed his forehead, and then shook his head. "No. Maker's balls! She's sensed me. I can feel her call. Damn!"
Zevran reached out a hand to reassure the mage; something had him worked up. He remembered the time Lucy and Alistair had felt Riordan's powerful call. They'd nearly battered themselves to pieces against a locked door trying to get to him. If Anders was feeling that, he'd probably stop at nothing to get to her.
Hawke looked at Anders and then down at the map Orsino had drawn her. "She might not be in her room. Orsino said they were forcing her to battle in some sort of lyrium dome."
"We should follow the map," Fenris said. "It's the best information we have."
Anders shook his head. "I'm going down this tunnel. Whoever wants to follow me can. We can't waste time on side excursions."
"Wait, amico! Give us one moment," Zevran gripped his friend's shoulder, not wanting the mage to go on until they'd had another moment to discuss it. "My friend is in the grip of an obliggo." He shook his head in frustration searching for the right word. "A geas. A magical compulsion. He is being pulled. That is the strength of a Warden's call. Trust me, I have seen this before."
"Then we need to split up," Hawke said decisively. "Karl is right. The tunnels we're following twist enough that she could very well be in her cell. I will take Karl, Fenris, and Merrill. You, Anders, Isabela and Varric follow this… geas to wherever it leads. Leave a mark for us to follow."
Anders struck out with his hand and with a focused flame scorched a dark arrow along the wall. "Will this do?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah," Hawke said. "And anyone chasing us."
Anders didn't heed Hawke's remark, Zevran noted. He could barely stand still; the compulsion to follow the Warden call was too strong. "Then pray to your Maker there aren't any templars following you, if you come after us," Zevran said.
"He's not my Maker," Hawke grumbled. "All right. If you don't find her, back track and catch up to us. If we don't find her, we'll find you." She paused a moment and looked at Varric, concern plain in her eyes. "Stay alive, will ya?" She looked at Isabela and nodded curtly. "You too, bitch. I went to a lot of trouble saving your ass already. Don't make it be for nothing."
Isabela's mouth dropped open in a soundless gasp but it was followed by a throaty laugh. "Don't worry about me, sweet-thing. You know I always land on my feet. Besides the thought of getting you in my bed again keeps me alive."
At that, Hawke blushed and turned away, leading her group to follow the subtle markings Karl pointed out. They could hear her mutter something indistinctly.
"You totally did!" Isabela shouted after her retreating figure. "And you liked it!"
"Principessa, come. Think about your next conquest later," Zevran said to Isabela. Anders had torn out of his grasp and was jogging down the hallway. Zevran sprinted to catch up to him, and he could hear Isabela and Varric trotting behind him. "Amico, slow down. We need to be careful," he said to Anders when he caught up.
A sheen of perspiration made Anders's face gleam in the mage light. He gave no indication he even heard the assassin.
"Amico!" Zevran grasped his shoulders and shoved him into the wall. "You need to master this or you'll lead us to our deaths."
The mage's eyes tore away from some sight in the distance and focused on Zevran's face. He seemed to come back to himself. "Sorry," he said. "It's powerful. I've never felt it like this. I think she's in trouble."
Zevran nodded. "All right. Stay with us here. Don't lose your head. We'll rush, but not blindly." He pointed at the wall of the tunnel. "Make your mark."
Anders took a deep breath and summoned the fire spell, leaving another smoking black arrow on the hallway.
They took off again, this time at a more careful and measured pace. Anders's agitation didn't decrease, but he mastered it. The hallways went on and on, forking every now and then. Sometimes they seemed to climb be ascending, other times they went deeper, but Anders never hesitated. Each time he chose a tunnel quickly. Zevran only hoped that they were the right ones.
~o~o~o~
After my night time visitation from Anders, I slept better. They're coming. They know where I am. I only hoped I managed to convey a sense of urgency about it all. Maybe Orsino had been to see them and certainly he would've told them there was no time to waste.
The day passed slowly with me reading Chantry history—as the Chantry cares to tell it. I even nodded off a few times, until there was a jarring knock on the door by a fist that really knew how to extract obedience from wood. The loud reports jarred me out a deep doze. I was confused and disoriented when Ser Alrik entered with two templars at his side. He always seemed to catch me right after I'd woken up before I could order my thoughts, my hair, or my wits.
"How're you feeling, Elissa?" he asked. He seemed genuinely concerned, but I knew his sincerity was faked. "Good enough shape for one more fight?"
After everything Orsino had told me, that remark alarmed me enough to knock away my sleep hangover. "One more," I said. "And then?" Gut knotting with a flush of fear, face burning with anger—no! I had to suppress my reaction to what I was sure was the pronouncement of my death, or something even worse. I dug my fingernails into my hand. Maintain.
"Why, you'll have more than earned your spot here amongst the mages in Kirkwall," he said. He took a step toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder to reassure me.
Revulsion. Could he feel my skin trying to crawl away from his hand? I needed to seem as clueless as he thought I was. Help! I reached out with my Warden sense and felt the same nothing I'd felt since the night Anders had left back in Denerim. If they didn't come, I would try to escape. Even if I died trying, it would be better than being tranquil.
"I've got a few bruises that Orsino missed last night. Could you send for him again?" I asked. Hiking up the big baggy mage robe I wore during the day, I pointed to a nasty looking one on my shin.
"That's hardly worth Orsino's time. I will send for Sister Olivia."
"No. Ow! It is really painful. I think there's a pulled muscle too." I walked around the room, limping pitifully.
"He's out of The Gallows on business. Sister Olivia will just have to attend to it," he said, frowning at me. "Why didn't you have him heal that last night?"
"I guess we just missed it," I said.
"Well fine. Get some rest. Tonight may be quite the challenge for you. Don't let me down," he said. He'd lost his reassuring manner and a threat hung suspended in the air.
Or what? You'll make me tranquil? You're an ass, Alrik.
I nodded submissively as a good, beaten-down Elissa would. Inside I was frightened and defiant. Orsino wasn't in The Gallows? Then that must mean he's seeking out the Falcon, or whoever it was he thought would know how to find Anders and Zevran.
Dear Maker, let them come tonight! I found a sudden spark of piety and addressed a god I was fairly certain didn't exist.
~o~o~o~
This time my nerves were stretched taut as I was walked down into the tunnels. I'd come this way enough times that I pretty much knew the path by heart. Second left after the chantry sun carved into the wall. Turn right. Forty paces and a left. Only we didn't make a left. Well, I did, but a hand clamped onto my arm and pulled me back into the hallway.
"Stay with us, mage," the templar grumbled. His voice pinged around in his helm before it spilled out, sounding like a bear in a tile bathroom.
"But we usually turn there," I said. "I'm fairly certain." I counted the paces off mentally. Yes, there were forty.
My protest yielded nothing. My templar escort didn't provide any insight into why our path had changed. Well, at least it wasn't the Hall of Tranquility. That was up on the second floor where they were keeping me. Who knows though, perhaps they were taking me to the Cave of Tranquility, or the Basement of Tranquility. Plan. Yes, make a plan, just in case.
I eyed my guards, looking for sharp corners on their armor I could cut myself on, wondering if I might snatch a blade before they could stop me. It didn't seem likely. Maybe a jagged outcropping of rock or—the thought made me shiver—I'd bite myself. One good punch from a mailed fist would probably bring some blood, if it didn't knock me out. I'd find my tainted blood somehow. Or so I told myself to keep from panicking. Why hadn't we turned?
Then we stopped and there was a black lyrium gate on the right. Inside I could see a room that looked like a metal box.
"Halt." The templar said. They seemed extra businesslike tonight.
They opened the gate and pushed me inside the metal room. Once inside they shut the gate.
"Your strangler."
I knew the drill. I backed up to the gate and tried to avoid making contact with it. I didn't want to lose my head to the black lyrium before I could figure out what was going on. I managed not to touch it, but I could still feel it prickling at my brain. The strangler fell off and lay in the sand at my feet. I don't know why, but I picked it up and jammed it in a pocket. If I were to fight another mage again, like the saarebas, it could be a useful weapon. Maker forbid they make me fight another person. I wouldn't have done it the last time, but the Qunari mage attacked relentlessly. If I'd had my strangler, maybe I could've locked it around his neck. No, too small. It was designed for a human neck. Well, a wrist then.
"Here's your weapon," one of the templar's said. The faceless man poked a staff through the gate and I took it from him.
"I'd rather have daggers," I said.
They ignored my request. "Ready yourself." Yup, they were all business tonight.
It struck me suddenly. I'd seen this box, but always from the other side of the dome. This was where they'd loaded up the demons, bronto, saarebas, and other creatures I'd fought. What did it mean that I was being loaded up like this? Maybe tranquility wasn't fate in store for me.
My last fight, Alrik said. No. I wouldn't be led like a lamb to slaughter. I will go down fighting. I didn't survive all the bullshit I've been through to die like this. I swished the staff through the air and began to limber up. Whatever awaited me, I was going to kick its butt.
I could hear the cheers and hollering followed by the rattling of chains pulling open the solid metal door. There, on the far side of the dome was a… girl, more properly, a woman, maybe my age—Elissa's—perhaps a bit older.
"This is a trick, right?" I spoke aloud, though no one was close enough to hear me. "She's a dragon, isn't she?" I stood at alert, waiting for the fearsome girl to transform, but she didn't. Instead, she looked at me with the same sort of confusion. Not attacking, but staring in bewilderment.
I edged into the dome, watching her warily. She was attractive, with dark hair that fell in loose waves down to her shoulders. There was something wide-open and innocent about her. She'd be the last person I'd expect to transform into a dragon, which meant, of course, that she was certainly a dragon. I wouldn't let her pleasant looks disarm me.
"Hello," she said. "I think they're expecting us to kill one another." She had to shout a little to be heard over the cheering crowd.
"Yes," I said. "If you're a dragon, know this. I've killed dragons." Yes, I had. But never alone. I cursed myself for the little tremor in my voice.
"A dragon?" she laughed bitterly. "No, I'm no dragon. Although I kind of wish I were at the moment." She walked across the dome and held her hand out to me. "I'm just a mage at the circle. A free one until a couple of years ago."
I hesitated, but shook her hand. Desire demon, maybe. A very subtle one. "I'm Lucy."
"Ladies!" Alrik's stern voice broke into our introductions. "You're here to fight, not have tea!" Striding to the cage, hand resting on his sheathed sword, he said, "Fight you will, else there be a double Rite of Tranquility this night."
The mage and I exchanged glances. "No," I said softly. I wasn't going to fight her. Nor was I going down without a fight. There might be two dozen templars out there, but there were only two at the door where I'd entered and long, twisting corridors that would be easier to hold.
The dark-haired mage shook her head and echoed my words. "No."
Ser Alrik heard our replies and purpled. Veins bulged at his temples and I could practically hear capillaries popping like corn. "Reconsider carefully, my ladies. One of you could walk away from this." The words oozed out of his mouth calmly but the threat underlined and italicized each one.
"Your word is shit," I hissed. "The archdemon couldn't produce as much excrement as comes from your mouth." I lunged forward and grabbed the black lyrium. It fueled me, feeding my anger a superb first course of vitriol.
"Then your struggles end tonight, Elissa. One way or the other."
He pulled his sword and jammed it at me, through the cables. I peeled off to the side and his blade missed, of course. "Thank you, Ser Asswipe." I ran my hand along the sharpened length of his sword, cutting myself.
I could hear the dark-haired mage's gasp even over the gasps from the audience.
"Blood mage!"
"Maleficar! Stop her!"
And all the rest of the predictable responses from the indoctrinated masses.
"It isn't what you think it is!" Grabbing her hand we ran to the metal-bound box I'd emerged from. I could feel her half pulling away from me, but she wanted to escape too. I think she decided her chances were better with me than a whacked beehive full of templars.
The two templars who had deposited me in the cage had stupidly come inside to see what the ruckus was about. Now they were running for the door and the one on the right was just reaching for the handle. I dropped her hand knowing I'd have to Fade step to catch him before he got the door open.
"Deal with the one on the left!" I shouted at her, hoping she could. For all I knew this mage might specialize in healing or alchemy.
"I've got him!" she yelled, but I was too busy opening the Fade and stepping in to respond. Everything slowed, but me, as usual, and then I was on the templar, delivering what I'm sure must have been a fatal blow to his head. I stepped out of the Fade and saw that the girl was just now casting her spell. I was ready to deal with her templar if necessary, but a blast of ice caught him and a particularly nasty icicle pierced his neck. He fell to his knees struggling to breathe. I was relieved my new ally knew some useful spells, but how long would spells help us in this nest of templars?
As we got to the door I realized that even one templar with a well-aimed smite could ruin our escape. The only cure for it was to disarm. No mana meant they couldn't do much too us. I grabbed my strangler out of my pocket and fastened it around my neck. Then I tore another strangler from one of the downed templar and handed it to the girl.
"Can you fight with that staff?" I asked.
She grinned at me. "Oh yeah. My sister taught me more than a few moves."
"Good! Put this on and we'll do it the old fashioned way. No mana and the templars can't smite us."
She took the anti-magic collar and, though she still looked wary, obeyed. "All right. Just don't… don't become a demon. Okay?"
"I promise," I said.
"Where do we go?" she asked.
I shrugged. I'd love to have had time to think it over, but templars were now inside the dome and running our way. I'm sure more were coming toward us down the hall. "We have to close that gate." I ran to the winch that held open the gate and removed the iron bar that kept the gate open. It started to close slowly at first, but then slammed shut just before the crowd of templars got to us.
"That's the way I came from," I said pointing down the hall. "We should go the other way." I had no more than said it when I heard clanking armor from that direction.
"Run!" the girl said.
"Right behind you. Go!"
What first seemed like a desperate attempt now felt doomed. Should I bother to try? Oh why not? As long as I still lived, there was hope. As we fled down the hall I extended my Warden sensing abilities to their limit, certain there would be nothing. I was ready for the despair I would feel at the failure. I could stop here, make my final stand, and let the girl get away. Danny will be fine. More than fine. My death could count for something. At worst, I'd reduce the templar population some. I was ready to stop and tell the girl to go on when I felt something. No, someone! Anders. "Fucking Maker!" I shouted. "He's here!"
The girl stopped and looked at me with confusion and distrust in her eyes. "Who?"
"A Grey Warden. A… friend." I stopped a moment and blasted my call out. I knew there was no way Anders would miss it. He would know it was me and I was alive. If they were going to my cell, I was sure they could never get to us in time. "Maker, find us, Anders!"
The sound of the tin infantry was fading behind us and the hallway stretched on. When it forked, I took a random turning. We ran until the sound of pounding feet was lost and then we paused a moment. The other mage leaned against a wall, bent forward, hands on her knees, while I scanned the length of the tunnel before us and behind us.
"Who are you?" she asked, between labored gasps for air. "Are you a blood mage?"
"Lucy, a Grey Warden from Ferelden. I'm not a blood mage, in the usual sense. It is Grey Warden magic." A little obfuscation would have to serve as truth. "Who are you?" I asked.
"Bethany Hawke," she said. "If you're a Grey Warden then why are you…"
Her sentence was broken by the sound of running coming from the direction we'd been headed.
"We're cut off!" she cried.
"The tunnel ahead narrows. We'll make our stand there." Perhaps we'd lost the templars behind us and we wouldn't be caught between the two groups.
Dashing a short way up the tunnel, it narrowed enough for us to stand back-to-back and engage one person at a time from either direction. Bethany was still gasping from our run. I wasn't tired, but the rage from the black lyrium was wearing off. Just as well. Now that I knew rescue was possible, I didn't want to do anything stupid. I pulled off my strangler for a moment, drawing mana from my lyrium necklace to replenish my depleted stores, and I cast a rejuvenation spell on each of us. Bethany gave me another puzzled look. "Look, if we survive this, I'll answer your questions." Fastening the collar around my neck I tried to prepare myself.
"They're here!" Bethany pointed down the hall and I could see a few templars headed in our direction.
I heaved a tense sigh. Maker willing, we'd take them. "Watch the other corridor. I'll handle these." I reached out to sense Anders and I could still feel him. Nearer, I think, but perhaps it was wishful thinking. I hope you brought a small army, Anders.
Bethany looked pale and a little frightened, but the woman had a steel spine. She'd give it her all. We stood back to back as the templars approached us warily. The one in the lead held up his hand, palm facing me. Ready to smite us, I assumed, but he didn't. Maybe he could see it was futile; we were wearing our stranglers.
As they drew closer I could see who it was: a lanky, awkward-looking redhead. Oh great. Sullen Cullen. Why hadn't I just put him out of his mage-hating misery back at Ferelden's circle? Regrets collided with anger and I whirled my staff in front of me threateningly. "I killed an archdemon, Cullen. You think you're a challenge?"
He halted outside of striking distance and lowered his hand. What he did next stunned me worse than a smite; he turned his back to me.
"Turn around, men. There are no apostates here," he said.
I could only gawp in disbelief. The four templars he was leading could clearly see us. I even recognized Burt and Ernie.
"What're you talking about?" Burt said, pointing at us. "They're right there!"
Ernie and Cullen exchanged a look. "No they're not," Ernie said. "The Knight-Captain said turn around." He put a hand on his sword and Cullen did too.
There was a moment of low murmuring. They were too far away to hear the discussion but I could hear it heating. Then it broke into raised voices and Burt drew his weapon. Cullen was faster, though. He stabbed the other templar before his sword ever fully left its sheath. I saw Burt sink down. Whether he died or not, I didn't know.
I'm sorry, Cullen. That was all I could think of. I am sorry I ever thought you were a complete ass. I learned, yet again, that people could be redeemed. Maybe not everyone… but damn, Cullen? Ernie drew his weapon too and the two men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, blocking the way to us.
"Anyone else here think they see apostates?" Cullen said. "I see a hero. A woman who ended the Blight and saved people I know and care about."
"I see a hero, Knight-Captain," Ernie said to Cullen. "What do you see Minsky?"
"Um… a hero?" came the timid response.
"Pylo?" Cullen said.
"Definitely a hero, sir. No apostates here."
"All right." Cullen turned back to face us. "Hero, Lady Hawke. If you don't mind. We're looking for some escapees, have you seen them?"
I shook my head slowly, still feeling stunned at Cullen's gesture. "No I haven't seen anyone. Yourselves excluded. We are, um," I hesitated, "We seem to be lost here. Where is the nearest exit?"
Cullen shrugged. "These tunnels were built during the time of the Tevinter's occupation. Some believe there are secret entrances and exits, but if there are the templar's don't know them. I'm afraid I can't help you. However, if we can pass you by, we'll be sure to tell any others that we've thoroughly searched this passage."
"Absolutely," I said softly, still shocked.
"Thank you, Cullen." Bethany squeezed by me and put her hand on Cullen's shoulder. "Be safe, my friend." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his cheek, lingering a little longer than just a friendly buss.
He took her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. "Get out of here, my lady. I'll do my best to misdirect the search."
Well! It seemed there was a little somethin'-somethin' going on between these two. I counted myself fortunate especially since the last time I'd seen Cullen he'd been ashamed of my mage status. Maybe he knew the futility of my position and was waiting for an opportunity to help, or perhaps the attractive brunette with me was the inspiration behind his chivalry. Whatever. I was thankful, regardless.
"Thank you, Cullen." I pressed myself against the tunnel wall and let his group of templars pass us. "Thanks, Ernie." I gave him a smile as he met my eyes.
He nodded in response. "Be safe, Hero." He unsheathed a pair of daggers he had strapped to his hips and gave them to me. "I know you prefer these. Take them."
They were good blades. I dropped the staff and took them. "Thanks. Stay out of trouble, my friend."
Bethany and I exchanged a look as they walked down the hall. "Are you always this lucky?" I asked her.
"Not a chance. Are you?"
"I've had a good run so far, but I'm not holding my breath."
"Me neither. Let's get out of here!"
We took off jogging in the direction Cullen's group had come from. By now we had both lost all sense of direction and had no idea where the lyrium dome was. I kept sensing Anders and followed the faint, but definitely detectable sense of direction his presence gave me. I also "called" to him with everything I had. It was a prayer I sent winging to him. Feel me! Find me!
I could've kicked myself for not spending the time with Anders, training him to use the call. Like me, he hadn't had any initial aptitude for it. But I—with practice and incessant goading by Riordan—had learned. It would've made locating him much easier. Now I could only hold out hope that he could locate me.
I stopped suddenly and tried to figure out what direction his faint presence was emanating from.
"What is it?" Bethany asked. She looked behind us nervously. "Why have we stopped?"
"I'm trying to figure out what direction to take. I can feel the taint but it almost seems behind us now. I think we have to backtrack."
Her face tightened at my words. "And the templars are back there somewhere. Maybe by now they've got my phylactery."
Phylactery! I'd completely forgotten that they took blood from mages to track them. That they'd never bothered to take mine was more proof that I was never meant to join them. "No, I doubt it. They wouldn't store the vials here, would they? It'd be too tempting a target for mages to destroy." Truthfully, I had no idea, but I didn't want her to give up.
She shrugged and set her jaw. I could see a stubborn streak a mile wide on her. "Well, odds are we aren't going to make it anyway, but I intend to do whatever I can to get out of here. Let's go!"
Her courage heartened me. We turned around and jogged back the way we'd come. My stamina from the tainted-blood magic had trailed off and I was beginning to fatigue. Stopping, I ripped off my strangler, taking another moment to draw mana from the lyrium necklace. I cast two new rejuvenations and felt bolstered by the surge of energy. There would be hell to pay once this spell wore off if I couldn't refresh it. The look Bethany gave me told me she knew it too.
I could feel Anders's taint growing stronger and now it was to our right. Leading us to the next fork, we turned right and hastened down the tunnel. This time though we turned a corner and found ourselves blocked by a door. Bethany and I both pressed our ears against it and listened. We heard nothing so very cautiously opened it.
It was a room, an old, forgotten storage room by the looks. There were decaying crates piled up, barrels, and piles of moldering fabrics that might have once been clothes. But it was a dead-end all the same.
We could hide in here and hope that Anders found us before the templars, but if they did get Bethany's phylactery, that didn't seem promising. "Let's go back," I said. "We'll take the next turn leading in that direction."
She nodded, following me as I turned around and made for the door. Another run down the hallway and then a turn and finally—finally!—I could feel Anders ahead of me and stronger than ever. Just a short ways more!
"They're close," I told Bethany.
"Good!" she said. "I can't believe there's a chance we can escape. Something's gotta go wrong. It always does."
And so it did. We rounded a little twist in the tunnel and came face to face with Ser Alrik.
"See what I mean?" Bethany said, panic rising in her voice.
"Kill them!" Alrik bellowed, pointing at me in particular.
"Kill them!" I yelled at the same time, leaping backwards and was narrowly missed by a sword jabbed at my middle. I recklessly sliced open my hand on my dagger and drew from the tainted blood magic. Fatigue fell away.
There wasn't time to organize a defense, we just had to fight and try not to hurt each other in the narrow tunnel. I was grateful for the daggers Ernie had given me, they were far easier to use in that narrow place. Bethany was more limited in what she could do; jabbing and swinging overhead or underhanded, her staff caught more than one templar in the balls.
I ducked as a great axe sliced the air where my neck had been and then clanged into the side of the tunnel. While stooped, I saw a mailed fist punch Bethany in the jaw and she flew backwards with the force. I couldn't spare any more time looking at her. I lashed out with a flying kick at the man who had punched her and he staggered backward into the templars behind him, causing a chain reaction of stumbling.
Then I was fighting two at a time and one of them was trying to flank me. So far, I'd kept out of reach of their weapons, but sooner or later they'd figure out how to work together and then I wasn't sure I could stop them.
I saw an opening and took it, jabbing one attack in the throat with a dagger, but the other one sliced my arm. The wound bled copiously making it harder to hang onto my dagger as the blood slicked my hands. But on the bright side, I needed the blood for Warden magic. Just not quite this much blood coming so quickly.
More kept coming as they fell. Or when one tired another was there to replace them. I couldn't look away for even a second to see Bethany. She was either incapacitated or had fled. I hoped it was the later. I gave ground slowly but it wasn't long before a tentative shift of my foot felt something behind me. Bethany. She hadn't fled and was either dead or unconscious behind me.
I'm doing my best, Anders, but you really need to hurry it up. I redoubled my Warden call, blasting it like a trumpet.
"Bethany, you've got to get up and run!" I yelled at her, not knowing if she could even hear me. It seemed that this would be, finally, my very last stand. My heart wrenched with grief. To die so close to being saved was more painful than the wound in my arm.
~o~o~o~
The Warden call grabbed his brain and shook it like a cat shakes a rat, trying to break its neck. But this time it was intense and focused, like a burning beam of light, and it came from straight ahead. He stumbled, his senses overwhelmed with urgency. This was basic, primal, a need that bypassed all reason. She must be found and joined. He was called.
"Amico!" Zevran reached out and grabbed a shoulder to try to steady him.
"Maker, if I had that kind of pull on a man…" Isabela said, sending a lewd smile to Varric.
"Let's hope such a thing never comes to pass, Rivaini," Varric said. "Hey, is Blondie all right?"
"Me?" Zevran said, turning to the archer. "Never better. Anders senses Lucy. She's very close. Be ready."
Barely aware of the assassin, Anders pushed himself from the wall and continued his jog down the hall. It wasn't far until they heard the sound of battle. Only Zevran's grip kept him from rushing forward, straight into whatever was there, around the next corner.
"Steady now, Anders. She is here, yes? Let us take them by surprise."
His answering nod was terse, but the words had registered. "All right. What do we do?"
"Isabela and I will go up behind them and see what forces they have. We'll report back." The look he gave Anders was worried. "Stay, my friend."
"We'll be fine," Varric said.
Anders felt a meaty, strong hand grasp his forearm. "Eh, Blondie?"
"Fine." The word was like grit, rasping from a throat that wanted to scream a battle cry. Truly his fingers were twitching to cast a spell. He would have thought was funny in other circumstances, given Zevran's nickname for him, but this night the humor was lost on him. His fingers wanted blood.
~o~o~o~
The pair of sneaks crept quietly around the corner, peering down a lengthy corridor before proceeding further.
"Looks bad, Zev," Isabela whispered, her hands resting on her weapons, deceptively relaxed. "More than a dozen I'd say. Do you see your lady friend?"
He shook his head. "No, but I trust Anders. We can flank them and draw some off of her. If we surprise them, we might knock out at least four of them quickly."
"You and I could do two easily. The old grab and slash should work."
Zevran knew the reference. One of them—Isabela, because she was taller—would grab one by the top of his helm and pull his head back, exposing the throat. Then it was a matter of a quick slash or thrust under the jaw. They could certainly take two before the rest were aware.
"Varric is quick with the bow. He could go next and take out two more. Is Blondie any good?" Isabela's eyebrow quirked and something lascivious sparkled in her eyes.
"The best, princessa. Ah, you mean as a mage? Yes, although his forte is healing."
They turned and headed back to the waiting companions, explaining the plan. Zevran wasn't convinced Anders had heard much of it, but Varric was ready. They quietly moved into place and executed everything as planned, until it was Anders's turn. He cried out loudly, vocalizing frustration painted by anguish. It was as if he were trying to say "I am here" but words, it seemed, had disappeared in favor of more basic forms of communications.
Whatever had twisted his locution into a wordless roar had certainly conveyed their arrival to the small sea of templars in front of them. Half of those who remained turned, and half of them were momentarily frozen by an immense ice spell cast by the wordless, yet noisy, mage.
"We are flanked!" someone yelled from within the herd of templars.
"Anders!"
That voice Zevran recognized. Lucia lived. The numbers did not favor them, but at least they weren't sandwiched like the templars.
"Keep fighting, cara!" Zevran shouted, hoping she could hear him. "We will slice through these like soft cheese!" It was more of a wish than certainty. Words meant to cheer her. There were close to a dozen templars and Anders would be rendered helpless soon.
Even as a contingent of templars broke away and came to face them, Anders was felled with a smite. He stood, but was hit again. This time the force knocked him against a wall and he didn't rise.
~o~o~o~
Karl led Hawke through the tunnels easily. The marks were perfect if you but knew where to find them. It wasn't long before they reached stairs and were confronted by a pair of templars standing guard.
"Champion?" one said. "You're not allowed here. How did you get in?" The templar sounded confused behind his metal helm.
"I'm here because you're holding a citizen of Ferelden unlawfully. I demand she be released immediately!" Hawke's drew her vicious-looking daggers and waited for resistance.
"Uh. Who?" the templar asked.
"Elissa Cousland, the Hero of Ferelden. Release her at once or there will be consequences."
"Um." The templar fidgeted nervously. "I can't release anyone without orders, ma'am."
Fenris pushed past her elbow, his hands glowing an ominous blue. "I suggest you let us pass. The Champion is feeling a might out-of-sorts today."
The templar gestured with his hand to show that they should pass, and so they did. Cautiously. However, just as soon as they were down the hall they heard one of the templars running. Someone would be coming soon, she knew it.
They picked up speed, racing up the stairs and finding the next set of stairs. These too were guarded. This time the templars weren't cowed and the infiltrators had to neutralize them.
Fenris's hands were stained red and a quivering heart lay on top of the plate armor of one templar.
"That's just disgusting," Hawke complained. "Why can't you use your weapon?"
"Do you see any room for me to swing a great axe in here?" Fenris said, wiping his hands on a templar's robe.
"You should get a smaller weapon for close quarters work," she replied. His fondness for displaying his lyrium-enhanced strength meant he used enormous weapons. He wielded them well, but they were impractical sometimes. They'd had this discussion before and he stubbornly refused to give in.
"You didn't complain about the size of my weapon in close quarters before," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
She held her tongue but growled at him, picking her way past the dead templars. They didn't meet any further resistance until they came to the Hero's room. A cluster of templars blocked the door, but most were looking within the room.
Hawke heard a familiar strident female voice. "Have you finally lost your mind, Orsino? There's no one here. This cell looks no different than it did when I left two months ago."
Meredith. She was back from her trip to Orlais.
"She was here. I swear it."
Hawke recognized Orsino's voice. It seemed the Warden mage was right, she wasn't in her cell. Pushing aside the templars standing at the door, she strode into the room. "Where is she, Meredith?"
The Knight-Commander whirled. "Hawke! What is the meaning of this? How did you get in here?"
"I'm here because your templars kidnapped the Hero of Ferelden," Hawke replied. She realized how odd that was going to sound so she improvised. "The Crown asked me to look into the matter. And, in doing so, avoid a larger…much larger, diplomatic problem."
Meredith shrugged, spreading her hands. "Do you see anyone here? I think someone is spreading a vicious rumor. There's nothing to back up this crazy allegation." She set her chin stubbornly and looked down her nose at Hawke.
"They're forcing her to fight in the lyrium dome," Orsino said. "I saw her here, covered in blood and injured from her fights. Twice I healed her."
Meredith snorted with contempt. "A lyrium dome? More insane fabrication. Hawke, I'm placing you and your companions under arrest for breaking into the Gallows. I warn you, if any of my templars have been harmed—"
There was a blur at the corner of Hawke's vision. Fenris had made a sudden movement. His hand plunged through the nearest templar's chest. "Oh Maker no, Fenris!" she cried out. Leave it to him to take a bad situation and make it worse.
The look he shot her was poisonous, but his features recomposed and he spoke in a low, threatening tone. "My hand is wrapped around your heart, templar. One squeeze and your life ends. Tell us where the lyrium dome is and confirm that the Hero of Ferelden has been fighting there."
Meredith seemed about to lunge at him, but she checked herself. "Hawke! Call off your… elf creature."
"Yes!" the templar burst out. "Yes, she was here! Ser Alrik has her fighting in the lyrium dome."
"What?" Meredith turned to the templar. "Where the hell is this lyrium dome?"
"It…it was found in the tunnels beneath the Gallows, Knight-Commander. Please!" He couldn't suppress a sob of relief as Fenris withdrew his bloody hand.
"Take us there, immediately!" Meredith said. "Maker, I leave for a few weeks and look what happens. The next time the Divine wants to see me she can damn well come here."
The look Hawke shot Fenris was contrite. He'd pulled it off. The little nut-case had pulled it off. For a moment Hawke felt a little of the old longing she'd once had for the elf, but only for a moment.
"We're coming with you," Hawke said. "I want to be certain my report to the Ferelden Crown commends your fair treatment of the hero." The small hairs on her arms nearly burnt off from the withering glare Meredith turned on her.
"Breaking into the Gallows, spying for Ferelden, and Maker knows what else. Don't imagine I will let you out of my sight, Hawke," Meredith said.
Hawke wondered what the Knight-Commander would do when they found the dead templars on the way back, but, most fortuitously, they took a different route.
~o~o~o~
Not a single inch to give. Bethany's prostate form lay behind me, hemming me in. To take that step back was to kill her, leaving her to the templars, if she wasn't already dead. I couldn't do it. No more running from death. That was a refreshing change, wasn't it? I was too busy to dwell on it while I battled two more templars standing side-by-side. Their elbows awkwardly hindered one another and the string of oaths from the pair was impressive for clergymen. There was no room for them to swing their large Chantry-issue swords, so they were reduced to clumsy thrusts. Timed-well and coordinated, I'd be doomed, but they were not used to fighting in close quarters like this. Still, I was tiring from blood loss. The tainted blood-magic couldn't keep pace with the dripping of my wound. My arms were feeling leaden, especially the injured one.
Then there was something up there behind the press of templars ahead of me.
"We are flanked!"
I recognized Ser Alrik's voice and I felt Anders closer than ever. "Anders!" I screamed, hoping he would hear me. Come on. Keep going! I ordered myself, but I had no idea how much longer I would last. I couldn't see beyond what seemed like a sea of templars. I dropped my Warden call. It would do no good now and would be a distraction for Anders he didn't need.
"Keep fighting, cara! We will slice through these like soft cheese."
Zevran's voice rang out over the sound of metal on metal. It heartened me giving my arm strength. Good that. The two templars fell back, giving way to another. Ser Alrik!
"Surrender, you'll never leave here alive. I will be merciful," he said.
"I know your brand of mercy, Ser Asswipe."
"Then die here, slowly," he said. "Bleed to death or succumb to my sword in your belly."
He chopped at me, his attack strong and fresh. I managed to block it, but I felt it take a toll on my remaining strength.
"Know that when I do run you through, mage, I will twist this sword and watch your guts spill out on the ground." He kept up a running description of all the unpleasant things that would happen to me.
Zevran hurry. I could hear growing noise from the rear of the templar pack, but I couldn't take my eyes away from Alrik to see how close they were.
And this is why I said training in archery is useless, Lucia. It always comes down to this, mano-a-mano. Now remember what I trained you to do.
In my exhaustion, I could practically hear Zevran scolding as he often did when we trained.
Look for the weakness. Tsk, tsk! The man's stance, cara, off-balance. Terrible. Remember what I said about the armor the templars wear.
Yes, he did look off-balance. Those skirts hide a weakness in their amour, the groin was poorly covered.
The next chop came, every bit as forceful and fast as the first one. I moved out of the way, not trying to block, but into him. It was an unexpected action, as was my hand thrusting up, under his skirt. It was an epic groping, or would've been if there hadn't been a wicked blade in my hand. I drove it hard into the gap between his armor, plunging it into what I hoped was the femoral artery, or his testicles.
Whatever I hit it was soft and squishy. I could hear Zevran cheering in my fatigue fogged mind. Brava, mia bella dea mortale. The templar looked at me, stunned surprise written on his face in a bold italic font.
"No," he gasped. He tottered a little, gratifyingly letting go of his large sword. Then he fell backward into the press of templars behind him.
"Ser Alrik is down!" Someone shouted.
I stumbled backward just a bit, my feet encountering Bethany's form again. Can't take any steps back. I had no choice but to wait until someone took Alrik's place.
Daccapo, mia cara.
"I can't do it again," I whispered. My arm felt like a tree trunk. I had nothing left.
You must. Zevran argued with me in my mind. I braced myself against the wall, ready to raise my weapons once more.
"Stop!"
A loud, female voice, like a drill sergeant's or a high school gym instructor's, pierced through the fog of my exhaustion. I couldn't turn my back on these templars to see whether that order was directed at me or whether it applied to everyone.
"I said stop!" The voice was louder and even more piercing. The templars stopped fighting and whoever they were fighting down the hall stopped too. I thought it might be safe to turn around. I let go of the wall and turned slowly.
"Bethany!" another woman shouted and ran to my accomplice, squatting beside her.
"Oh god. Not more damn templars," I muttered. The woman with the imperious lungs was dressed as one. Then the tunnel began to sway and my vision narrowed. I sank slowly to my knees, hoping she didn't think I was performing some sort of obeisance, but just after my knees hit the floor, I stopped thinking of anything at all.
~o~o~o~
Luckily Orsino was a skilled healer. Not as good as him, but good enough when it counted. Anders gently caressed Lucy's brow and realized how close he had come to losing her. They had to stop doing this.
He'd been hit with more smites than he had ever been hit with. It had knocked him against the wall and he had been unconscious the entire fight. Karl had seen to him and assisted Orsino with Lucy.
"How's she doing this morning?" Hawke asked as she strode into the guest room of her Hightown manor.
"She woke up in the night and talked a little, but has been asleep since then." He looked at the sleeping woman with concern. She was gaunt and her skin was still too pale, but for the dark smudges under her eyes.
Merrill bustled into the room holding a cup carefully. "She needs stinging nettle tea. Get this into her. It rebuilds the blood."
"I can hold her up, Twitch," Zevran volunteered. He carefully pulled her slumbering body up from the bed and nestled her into his chest. She stirred against him and muttered something.
"Do you want to?" Merrill asked, holding the cup out to Anders. "I think it is so sweet her husbands are taking such good care of her. Polyandry is so underrated, don't you think?"
Anders looked at Zevran and shrugged. He had no idea what polyandry was. Something he would certainly have looked up if he had a Circle library at hand. He began carefully spooning the tea into Lucy's mouth. The Dalish mage might be an annoying chatterbox, but she really knew her herbalism and alchemy.
He was heartened by the little movement in her face as she wrinkled her nose. With the next spoonful she shuddered but swallowed. The following one and her entire face scrunched up.
"All right, missy. I know you're awake. Open those peepers," Anders commanded.
"No," Lucy replied. Her voice was throaty and hoarse, but her stubborn refusal rang clear.
"Why not? Don't you want to see my handsome face, and the Antivan is here as well."
"You're just another dream. I'll open my eyes and you won't be there."
Zevran shot him an amused glance. "Cara, it isn't a dream. Do I need to pinch you?"
"You've pinched me in dreams before," she retorted. "I don't want any more of that nasty stuff."
"Now think, my dear commander, have you ever tasted anything this bad in your dreams?" Anders said, spooning another helping into her grimacing mouth.
"Not that I recall," she said.
"So there you see? It isn't a dream. Open your eyes, my love," Anders said. He kissed her gently on the forehead trying to reassure her.
"Dammit, if this is another dream and I wake up back in that cell, I'm blaming you, Anders!" The stubborn resolution strengthened her voice.
"I'll gladly shoulder the blame, sweety."
She slowly opened one eye and fixed its gaze on his hand. The second eye opened just as cautiously. Then her gaze lifted ever so gradually, fearfully, but the lines between her brows increased as her head lifted.
"Maker," she breathed. Then she swiveled her head and gasped loudly when she saw Zevran. "I didn't wake up, did I? It's one of those dreams within a dream. Then you wake up for real and find out it was all a dream, even the waking up. Well, the first one anyway."
"Cara, you're not dreaming," Zevran insisted.
"Sweetheart. All those dreams are over. We can start living our lives again," Anders added.
She looked between the two men and burst into tears. "You're desire demons! Damn good ones. If I believe you then there's a Sword of Mercy slicing through my neck. Be gone foul spirits!"
Merrill looked sadly at the woman in the bed. "Perhaps you should go. It might take some time for her to understand."
Anders handed the cup of tea to Merrill and waited for Zevran to settle her back onto the bed, propping her up with pillows and speaking in a low, soft voice, murmuring something in Antivan. They walked out of the room together, both of them looking somber.
As the door shut behind them Anders turned to Zevran and gripped his shoulder. "She's been through a lot, Twitch."
"Yeah, she has," Anders said. The Antivan looked worried, as worried as he felt. The templars could be right royal bastards. Rape, torture, enslavement by tranquility, all mages knew the stories. Only time would tell what she'd been through and whether or not she would ever fully recovered.
"She's tough though. She got through the Blight," Anders said.
"True, but she had us. This time she was on her own."
Anders slowly nodded and realized that this could be a whole lot worse. And it was all his fault. If he hadn't left, none of this would have happened.
~o~o~o~
I spent a day convinced I was stuck in the Fade somehow. Strange people kept coming to my room and talking to me. One was a woman named Hawke. She said she was the sister of Bethany and she explained what had happened after I passed out.
It seems that the imperious woman templar who had put an end to the fight was the Knight-Commander, Meredith, the very person whose return had guaranteed that I'd be silenced, one way or another, very soon. Apparently she'd arrived back in Kirkwall earlier than anyone anticipated. I probably survived because of her, but it was only through Hawke's facile mendacity that the lot of us weren't imprisoned. She had concocted a tale that the Ferelden Crown had sent her to find me and if she didn't report back there would be dire consequences.
"I told her Ferelden's army is still mobilized from the Blight," Hawke said, chuckling and rubbing the back of her neck. "Then I said that Teyrn Loghain pointed out the very narrow sea separating the two countries." Hawke grinned at me. "I could see her calculating how quickly she could raise an army of her own." She gave a loud, snorting laugh. "As if. There are city guards and templars. Beyond that she'd have to enlist the aid of other city-states and by that time she could kiss her ass and the city goodbye. I didn't even have to point that out to her."
"That's some impressive prevaricating," I said. Mulling it over, I'd never seen such talented desire demons. Was I really in the Fade? "What happened to Bethany?"
"She is being held pending a trial for the death of all the templars we killed." Her face sobered. "They needed a scapegoat."
"No! Fuck that!" I said, forgetting my theory of being in the Fade. Adding a subtle tragic element like that had to be beyond the abilities of Fade spirits. Only the corporeal could be so cruel. I struggled to sit up and nearly fell over from dizziness, but my rage was lit. "Get me clothes!" I ordered.
Hawke looked at me in surprise. "What are you going to…"
"The right damn thing. I'm taking your sister out of there. Can you get me in to see the Knight-Commander?"
"Yes. It shouldn't be an issue, but are you well enough?" she asked.
"I'll be fine." A lie. The world was spinning as I put my feet on the floor.
Hawke disappeared and Anders and Zevran returned.
"Cara!"
"Lucy, get back into bed. You're far from ready to get up," Anders scolded me.
I looked at them and felt dizzy not just from blood loss, but from love. "I'm sorry I thought you were desire demons. I was confused."
"Of course, cara," Zevran said. He rushed to my side and tried to get me to lie down again, but I pushed him away.
"I need clothes. I can't go confront the Knight-Commander in my smalls."
"No," Anders said. "You're not leaving this room until you stop looking as pale as the bed linens."
"We're not having this argument." I saw his stubbornness and raised him an ornery. "Hit me with a 'juv and I'll be fine."
"Absolutely…"
"That was an order, recruit!" That one took a lot out of me and I nearly passed out. Fortunately Hawke walked in with clothes and looked every bit as determined as I wanted to look, but couldn't muster the strength for.
"Cara, Anders is right," Zevran said.
"I'll call for a litter," Hawke said sensibly. "No sense in you trying to walk."
"What in Oblivion are you doing, Lucy?" Anders asked as Hawke left the room. "Trying to get yourself thrown back into the Gallows?"
"That will not happen while I breathe," Zevran said.
"I'm going to conscript Bethany, Hawke's sister. She fought by my side as we tried to escape and they're trying to blame everything on her to save face."
Anders shook his head sadly. "There's no way I can talk you out of this, is there?"
"No way, my love." I reached out and took his hand, stroking it gently. "Just this one last thing then I want to get the hell out of this place. All right?"
The guys tenderly and carefully helped me dress. All my physical hurts were healed, but I was weak as a kitten from blood loss. A rejuvenation spell helped and Zevran carried me to the litter and got me seated. I was a ragdoll, but a determined one.
~o~o~o~
Meredith released Bethany to me. Hawke's clever lies stood me in good stead. She feared retribution from Ferelden, but she also kicked us out of Kirkwall.
"Be gone by sunset tomorrow!" she said, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.
"Gladly," I said, hoping my glower was as good as hers. "If your templars ever kidnap another Ferelden citizen—"
"Out!" She flung out her arm and pointed to the door. If her nostrils had flared any larger, I feared one of us might be hoovered up into them.
We left and I was littered back to the Hanged Man—great name for dive in Kirkwall. Our passage was booked in short order and we sailed out the next morning.
Bethany and Hawke cried over each other. I cried too, with relief. I promised my rescuers they could come visit any time.
The trip was short and smooth and I rested with two men solicitously attending to me. There was relief, love, affection, and through it all an unresolved and building tension. My thoughts were focused to returning to Danny and wondering how he had fared in the time I was gone—a month, I discovered. I was a mother so I also did the Mom thing and worried. What if something had happened to my boy? Who had taken care of him? Would he remember me?
When the ship finally docked at Denerim someone took a look at my face and gasped. He took off at a run. "The Hero is back!" he cried.
"Should I stop him?" Zevran offered.
I could already see a spell forming in Anders's hand.
"No, although I'm sure we'll be hearing from Loghain or Alistair very shortly. Let's go to the compound. I need to see Danny."
I felt like I'd been away a lifetime. The stink of Denerim assaulted my nostrils just like it did the first time I walked into the city. There were familiar faces and an assortment of smiles. I was greeted happily by nearly everyone.
"Welcome back, Hero!"
"Good to see you, Lady."
"Warden-Commander, please come by for a meal as soon as you're able. On the house, of course."
Murmuring and nodding, I barely heard them. My feet went ever faster as we neared the compound, my fear and yearning growing with every step. What if something had happened to my son? I was trembling as I reached for the door handle. I knew immediately that something was off, and when I found the doorknob didn't give under my hand I knew what it was. No one was in the compound.
I nearly screamed. All my fears crested like a massive wave and crashed down on me. Blood drained from my face and both Anders and Zevran looked at me in alarm. "No one is here." I whispered the words, afraid that anything else would unleash the lurking scream.
"They may have taken him somewhere, cara. Somewhere safe. Do not panic," Zevran said.
"Fergus got him!" I grasped my throat wishing I could throttle the thought out of myself.
Pounding hooves clattered down the cobblestone road leading to the compound. A hulking figure cantered to us. Loghain. I took that much in until I realized he had something strapped to him. A pale, little figure with dark hair was harnessed to Loghain's chest. It bounced, shrieked, and laughed with the jolting gait of the horse.
"Danny!" This time the scream did emerge, but it was a shout of relief and joy. I was home. Blessed Maker, I was home! My boy was all right and hitched to Loghain's chest, looking as pleased as could be. The tears streamed down my face and I laughed. Never had so many competing emotions assaulted me at one time.
I found my emotional control later. Nothing could keep me from taking my son and reacquainting myself with his smell, his delightful appendages, babbling enthusiasm, and fascination with my hair. The external emotions were stuffed back under control although I shook for hours. The compound was reopened and the staff and Danny moved back in from the palace where they'd lived for the last month.
There was still the lurking figure of Loghain haunting the compound and he promised me he wouldn't leave until I could explain why I had abandoned my son for a month.
"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Lucy."
"I know, Loghain. I know. Just—I need some time. I will come see you tomorrow."
"You will."
Yup. That was Loghain. I had certainly missed him as well.
Zevran and Anders walked with him back to the palace, most likely filling him in on the events of the past month. I let the housekeeper settle Bethany into a room while I took Danny to the Warden-Commander's room. We sat on the enormous bed and I talked while he babbled.
"You have your daddy's eyes, you know?" I whispered to him as my own eyes began to flutter shut. The last vision I had was of my son's eyes looking into mine and in that moment between sleeping and wakefulness I knew I'd heal from this last month's traumatic events. I had Zevran, Anders, Danny, my royal friends, Loghain, and I think even Riordan, who was assisting by calling in metaphysical favors.
~o~o~o~
Notes: Woo hoo! This chapter was huge, as you now know. I've been working on it forever, or so it seems. Very happy to have it done and in front of your eyeballs. My special thanks to Biff and Zevgirl for beta-reading this weighty installment, and for their comments when I post bits and pieces on G+.
Here we are, nearly at the end of the story. The details of DA2 are a bit sketchy in my mind, hopefully I didn't take too many liberties. However, I will remind any sticklers that this is an AU (Alternate Universe), however if you've read this far, chances are you know that. ;)
This story took a lot of twists and turns I never anticipated, and we've ended up in Brazil when I set out for Japan. You can either blame my sense of direction or my sense of adventure.
BTW: If you haven't read "Tea with Bethany" you might want to. These two stories are somewhat related, especially now that Bethany has been recruited into the Wardens. I could definitely see Doria returning to Ferelden to be with her sister.
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Thanks for reading!