Promises: Chapter Four

Disclaimer: Dragon Age and all assorted characters/places/etc belong to Bioware, not me.

The pair continued their trek eastwards, with villages becoming towns and towns becoming cities. As their path took them to increasingly populated locales, it became inevitable that the pair would eventually run into templars. While templars were concentrated near circles, they did travel the countryside, scouring for apostates and picking up children who showed signs of magic. It was somewhat of a small miracle that they only crossed the templars path when they reached the town of Seleny.

Fenris and Hawke were on their way to the market to purchase foodstuffs for their journey. Eating warm meals at an inn had become a luxury they had mutually decided they could do without. Most nights they made do with cold rations although there were times when they would cook. Or rather Fenris would cook. He had forbidden Hawke from having anything to do with preparing their meals after he watched her make stew one evening. Throwing perfectly good ingredients into a pot and letting them boil until they were the same icky color did not qualify as cooking in Fenris' world.

They were nearing the market when all of a sudden a ruckus erupted from a side street. Fenris turned towards the disruption, craning his neck to peer over the crowd. He could make out the form of five, heavily-armored men, easily identifiable as templars by their shields, swarming around a disheveled shack.

Just then Hawke shoved up against him. He was taken aback by the unexpected sensation of her pressed so close to him, but before he could draw breath to scold her or even step away from her, he noticed something.

Hawke was terrified.

She was trembling like a leaf, and her eyes were wide with fear. Fenris was put in mind of a slave about to be punished when the only acceptable punishment was death. It was disturbing to see such an expression on Hawke's face. Gritting his teeth, he ignored his instincts, which were screaming at him to push her away. Instead he reached out his arm and drew her against his chest, turning her around as he did so that she didn't have to watch the scene unfolding before them.

For the templars had come to remove a mage child from his family before the child could harm anyone close to him. It was not an easy task as the child's family was protesting strenuously, with his mother sobbing frantically while his father vehemently cursed the templars to the void. Fenris admired the resolve of the men before them as they completed their task despite the growing tension and seeping hatred from the crowd around them. Eventually the templars wrested the child from his mother's grasp and took him away. As they left with the child in hand, the templar hunter who led the group scanned the crowd which had gathered appraisingly, his eyes flickering over them as though searching for threats.

Of course, if the templars knew about Hawke, they would see fit to remove her from Fenris' side as well. Perhaps it was hypocritical for him to think the templars were performing a service in taking the mage child to the circle all the while believing that Hawke should be left alone. But then Hawke wasn't like other mages, he reasoned. It wasn't just that she was possessed of a kind heart. No, Hawke had more control over her magic as well as a loyalty to a strict code that had been drilled into her by her father. Other mages needed the circle to provide such discipline; Hawke seemed fine without.

"They're gone now," he told her once the templars were out of sight, his voice pitched low so that no one else would hear him.

She stepped away from him. "Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry. I know that you don't…that I shouldn't have…."

"It is fine," Fenris said. He regarded her carefully. Though she was still visibly shaken, tremors no long racked her small frame. "Are you all right?" he asked her.

"I am, I think. I'm sorry. You must think I'm being silly. The child needs to go to the circle, he needs the training that they can provide—but that was so cruel. Dragging him away from his mother screaming like that. Why couldn't they have been kinder?"

Fenris' spine stiffened. This was something he doubted the two of them would ever see eye to eye upon. "The templars did not have an easy task. Any kindness shown by them to the child and his family may have been taken advantage of, with his family electing to run rather than accept the fact that their child is a danger to them," he reminded her, disapproval coloring his voice.

Hawke looked at him sharply. "Perhaps. But even if one is not moved out of simple humanity to think that there must have been a better, a kinder way to take that child from his family, I would think that one should do so out of a sense of self-preservation. A mage is most likely to become an abomination when facing great emotional distress. Demons were calling to that child, Fenris, trying to tempt him to let one of them in so he could fight back and remain with his family. It was a close thing. The templars did no one any favors by not tempering their duty with compassion."

There had to be some error in Hawke's logic, but for the life of him, Fenris couldn't figure out what it was. "You may have a point," he finally conceded. She smiled sadly at him, and he knew that she was not fooled by his words into believing that she had convinced him. Still she didn't press the topic but rather insisted that they hurry to the market as they had lost enough time due to the templars.

The market was bustling with activity by the time they arrived. Fenris and Hawke followed their noses to the food stalls. Hawke was in her element here as she negotiated the best prices for them. Fenris for the most part stayed back only offering his opinion when she asked about the quality of a particular piece of produce or how long a dried and salted strip of meat would last.

A bag of lovely, ripe apples was the last item on their list. After it had been purchased, Fenris gave their coin pouch an experimental shake. It was noticeably emptier which was to be expected but there was still a fair amount of coin within. "Let's go by the weapon merchant," he told her. He cast a critical eye over her robes, which had developed a few new holes. "After dropping by the tailor, that is."

A new set of robes for Hawke turned out to be prohibitively expensive, and so they had to settle for a repair kit of needle and thread instead. They had run across slaver mages during their journey, but Hawke had simply refused to take their gear, stating that she couldn't abide by the stench. While it was an impractical decision, it only raised Fenris' estimation of her because he never used slaver gear himself.

They had the same luck at the weaponsmith. Though there were a couple swords that caught his eye, they cost too much as well. Fenris simply sighed and settled for having his current sword sharpened as it was beginning to get dull. With that transaction complete, he turned towards the daggers. He wanted to get one for Hawke as he had noticed that she didn't have one. It was for her own good. While she normally stayed behind him during their fights, casting her spells from afar, he worried about what she would do if their enemies ever flanked them. Thus he wanted her to have a dagger to fall back upon in case she lacked the room she needed to effectively cast spells.

He picked out a small dagger and pointed it out to her. "It's nice enough, I guess," she said, "but not for me."

"Then you choose one."

"Um…I would prefer not to. Daggers can be a bit too convenient, you know? Best to avoid temptation and all that."

Fenris gave her a look. He was not going to accept no for an answer. "If you wish to grow stronger, then you have to master temptation, not avoid it," he said sternly. "If there's another one you prefer, then let me know now. Otherwise we'll get this one."

Hawke pulled a face but even she knew a losing battle when she saw one. As Fenris handed over the money for the dagger, a familiar glint caught his eye from their side. He casually turned to examine a particularly shiny shield, using it as a mirror to reflect their surroundings. What he saw almost made him curse out loud.

The templar hunter from earlier was at the booth to their immediate right. Fenris surreptitiously looked around and saw that there were templars standing guard behind them and in front of them as well. He held back a sneer. The trap was obvious. He knew when someone was trying to herd him.

He mentally mapped the city, trying to figure out which escape route would be the best. There were no good options. They couldn't simply pick a place to fight and stand their ground. Not only were they severely outnumbered, Fenris did not know if he could rely on Hawke to pull her weight in a fight against templars given the reaction he had seen from her earlier. Besides there were too many unknowns in this unfamiliar place, and so he decided that they have to take advantage of the element of surprise. The templar leader surely would not expect them to come towards him.

He reached down and grasped Hawke's hand. A soft gasp escaped her lips as she raised her eyes to meet his. "Trust me," he said with the barest hint of a smile on his lips. And then they were off.

Fenris led with his shoulder, colliding with the hunter and sending him stumbling back. The extra seconds it took for the man to raise the hue and cry was exactly what they needed to get lost in the crowd. On one hand it helped that neither Fenris nor Hawke were especially tall as it made it harder for them to find, but on the other hand, their lack of height also made it more difficult for them to keep track of exactly where their enemies were. Fenris retraced their steps to lead them to a place where he doubted the templars with their pristine suits of armor would follow—the sewers. With her hand still tightly clutched in his, they ducked into the underground tunnels that laid beneath Seleny

"There are times when I regret having a sense of smell. This is one of them," Hawke whined from behind him as they switched from one rank tunnel to the next.

Fenris chuckled at her imagery. "You would regret that around dinner time," he told her.

"Right now eating is the last thing on my mind," she replied. "I don't suppose we lost them."

He stopped in his tracks and listened. It was faint, but he could make out the telltale jangle of armor behind them. "No," he said.

"What?" Hawke cried. "How can they still be behind us? I don't have a phylactery so they can't be using that to track us."

"I doubt their order has much use for templars who aren't persistent," Fenris said mildly, hoping to calm his mageling down. It seemed to do the trick.

"Or maybe they're the ones who lack a sense of smell," Hawke countered.

"That could be it," Fenris said. He tried to figure out what had gone wrong with their escape. If the templars had pursued them in enough numbers, then it would be a simple thing for them to split up at each intersection. He cursed himself for not thinking of that beforehand. The templar hunter hadn't gone after them immediately after catching sight of Hawke because he went to get reinforcements first.

"We'll make our stand here," Fenris said. He dropped Hawke's hand and took a look at the tunnel they were in. It wasn't all bad. The tight quarters would ensure that the templars couldn't flank them. Furthermore he would be able to keep Hawke behind him, protecting her as she cast.

"But they're templars," Hawke protested.

"They are still men like any other. They will bleed if my sword cuts them, and they will burn if your fire hits them."

"But they're templars!" she repeated, her voice shrill. "My father told me about them. Their touch…it drains mages of mana, rendering them unable to cast the simplest of spells."

"I won't let them get that close," Fenris replied. "They will not touch you, this I promise. I'll take point while you cast from safety behind."

They had no more time to argue because three templars came into view. At the head of the small group was the templar hunter who had recognized Hawke as a mage. A cruel grin twisted his mouth when he saw them. "Ah there you are," he said. "Figured out you can't run, did you? Give the apostate up, elf, and I promise you no harm shall come to you."

"No," Fenris said, and he knew himself for a hypocrite. The templars no doubt thought him just as foolish as the parents of the mage child from before. Still Hawke was different. Her control was nothing short of phenomenal while the mage child had none. Besides Hawke didn't need templars to keep her on the straight and narrow. She had him, and he would see her dead before he allowed her to fall down that abyss, just how he promised all those weeks ago.

"I don't think you understand the situation you're in, elf. Continue to shelter the apostate and we will have no choice but to relieve you of your life," the hunter said. "But if you hand her over…the order is generous towards those who bring apostates to our attention. The reward is enough that you'll be able to afford a whore to replace the apostate's services."

"Which must be something else for the elf to be hanging on to her so fiercely," said one of the other templars. "Can't wait to get a taste of that myself."

Fenris saw red. With a mighty cry, he charged the three templars. He would not allow any one of them to lay a finger on Hawke. The templar hunter fell back, allowing the other two templars to take the brunt of Fenris' attack. The templars lifted their shields to meet Fenris' strike, and then in practiced cadence, swung their swords together to drive the elf back.

However, Fenris had been a bodyguard to a paranoid magister who had ensured that the favorite tricks of templars from other lands were well-known to the elf. Fenris had seen this sequence before, and he knew how to counter it. He sidestepped their swipes, rather than parrying, and focused his strikes so that he drove the templars together, until their shoulders were touching one another.

While the templars' shields protected their heads and their bodies, their legs were left exposed. Fenris dropped to the ground and thrust his sword forward in an arc to cut the templars' legs out from under them. Rolling back on to his feet, two quick strikes were all that he needed put an end to their threat.

But not to the hunter, whom Fenris had all but forgotten in his fury. The hunter lunged forward, and Fenris barely had time to block. He took a jarring hit and then another, unable to form a counter as the hunter kept up his attack. A fierce, overhand strike landed squarely on the elf's shoulder. He screamed in pain as the blade went cleanly through his armor and into his flesh. The hunter grinned in triumph and raised his sword for another jab.

Then all hell broke loose around him. Swirling flickers of flame dusted the air then burst into conflagrations. The hunter reeled backwards, shrieking as the flames enveloped him. Fenris could feel the heat of the fire against his skin, which was so intense it could melt steel, but not a single finger of fire touched him.

Instead he felt the cool breeze of magic that he had come to associate with Hawke's healing upon his shoulder, and he could hear her tentative steps sound from behind him as she approached him. He spared a glance back at the mageling. Her chin was up, and all traces of fear had been erased from her face.

She had never been more beautiful than in that moment.

"That is enough," she said. She clenched her fists at her side. "I will not let the likes of you harm the ones I love." She raised her right hand and called forth fire to gather there once more, intent on roasting the templar where he stood. Fenris, however, had a different idea. While the hunter remained focused on the mage before him, he withdrew a small throwing knife from his belt. With a twist of his wrist, Fenris sent the blade through the man's eye, a clean kill.

Extinguishing the flames she had called, Hawke turned towards him. She tilted her head to one side. "Why did you—"

"I had a point to prove," Fenris answered before she could finish. "That while magic is undoubtedly useful, sometimes a blade is faster," he told her. He gestured towards her belt, reminding her of the dagger he had bought for her over her protestations. A fierce grin lit up his face, and its twin appeared on Hawke's.

"Point taken," said Hawke. "Though you'll have to show me that trick of yours. If I had thrown my dagger, I would be more likely to hit you than anything. I've never used one before."

Fenris winced. It was just as well that Hawke had stuck to magic then. "We'll have to remedy that," he said.

"Sometime after we get out of here, I hope. My nose is threatening to fall off," she said.

"As is mine," he agreed. He gave his shoulder an experimental roll, wincing as it cracked. Hawke stepped forward but he waved her off, stating that her healing from earlier sufficed and that they needed to get out of here. She took one look at the dead templars and shuddered before gesturing for him to lead on.

They ran into two more groups of templars as they wound their way through the sewers. Both groups met the same fate as the first, with Hawke gaining more and more confidence from their confrontations. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, they could make out a hint of a fresh breeze. "The exit must be up ahead," said Fenris. He quickened his step, eager to leave the stench of the sewers far behind them.

There was another surprise waiting for them at the exit, however. "Blast," he swore as he caught sight of large group of Tevinter slavers.

"Lovely," Hawke said as she peered over his shoulder. "A perfect ending to a perfect day. What do you think they're doing here?"

"The same thing slavers always do in lands outside of Tevinter—capture poor souls to be hauled back in exchange for gold."

"Of course. Silly me for asking." Hawke's voice dripped with sarcasm. "I meant they're not here for us, right?"

"Does it matter?" Fenris quietly took out his sword and stalked forward on silent feet.

Hawke trailed after him, taking her cue from him and not making too much noise. "No, not really. We're going to kill them anyway right?"

Fenris rolled his eyes. That question didn't really deserve an answer. He was about to hush the mageling so they could launch a surprise attack when a voice sounded from amidst the slavers.

"I must say, all this attention is quite flattering," said a confident voice. Fenris peered through the ring of slavers and saw that they had cornered another elf.

"I hate to admit it, but despite the tales you might have heard about the skills of the great Zevran Arainai, I'm afraid taking you all on at once is a bit more than I can handle," the elf continued. "Can I convince you that one at a time is best? No? Then two, I can handle two very easily. Still no? Now three…three would be pressing it as I've not been with three that often but I think I can make it work though there might be some awkwardness at the start as we figure out how to best meld our arms and legs together."

"Is that idiot trying to fight them or seduce them?" Hawke asked.

"Both I imagine," Fenris replied. He rather agreed with her assessment of the other elf's intelligence. "And he's failing miserably at both," he added as the slavers looked to be unimpressed by the fool's bluster.

"I guess that means we better help him out," Hawke said.

Fenris shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose."

"Really? And here I thought no day was complete unless you got to slaughter a group of slavers."

"You have a point," Fenris said. He eyed the slavers to determine where would be the best place to attack with an eye towards felling as many of them at once. His target decided, he turned to Hawke and said, "Let's go."