Chapter 7 – Of Freedom and Phylacteries

Amaranthine.

Anders gazed wistfully at the port city off in the distance, its tall ramparts just visible over the next pass. The midday sun gleamed off the stone walls like a beacon beckoning them forward.

He could scarcely believe that it had been just two weeks since he had been here last. How full of nervous energy he had been! Like a green boy taking his first tumble in the hay with a pretty maid…until the templars had found and captured him. It was sad really, how easily they had ambushed him this time. How he ever thought that he could manage walking past a chantry without being spotted was beyond him.

Not one of my more brilliant escape attempts, he thought sulkily.

It had been a bitter draught to swallow, being so close to his ultimate goal only to have it slip through his fingers. Since then things hadn't exactly gone as he had expected them to. Then again, he supposed he could be a lot worse off than being a Grey Warden.

Like dead, for instance…just saying Anders old boy, he reminded himself.

He was grateful to the Commander for conscripting him, yet he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He was free of the Circle, but he was not truly free, and never would be. Damn, but wasn't that depressing? If only...he thought longingly.

Anders kept his eyes on Amaranthine, involuntarily licking his lips as he thought of the possibilities. Somewhere within her walls lay the key to his freedom. It would be so easy if he could only…If I could just slip away unnoticed, he thought. Right, that will happen, his common sense replied sarcastically. When Andraste herself rides through the streets of Amaranthine on a griffon…completely bare-arsed naked. An explicit image of a nude Andraste atop a griffon flashed through his mind. If she had been anything in person like the statues that were all over Fereldan…mmm, he purred inwardly with appreciation.

At any rate, the Commander was exceedingly observant, heavily armed, and far quicker on her feet than he…not to mention the fact that the red-headed drunkard and Ser-Mopes-a-Lot were bound to notice if he just up and left. He didn't have a chance in Hades.

Breathing in deeply he shook off the temporary gloom. Unlike some men he knew (Nathaniel) he was not one to be mired in petulance. He was luckier than most mages. Never again would he be trapped within the tower walls, never again would he have to fear his words or actions lest he be deemed an apostate or worse. Sure, he was a slave to the darkspawn horde, but he was free to kill the sadistic bastards however he pleased.

"Something wrong, Anders?" Falcon asked from beside him, startling him out of his thoughts.

He hadn't even realized that she'd pulled up beside him. Either he was growing more accustomed to this whole 'riding' nonsense or she was simply amusing herself by keeping pace with him. Either way, she was watching him with that unsettling gaze of hers.

"No! Not at all…why do you ask?" he replied, his voice cracking guiltily.

"You look preoccupied. Something on your mind?" she asked.

"Oh, you know. Just enjoying the sights, breathing in the aroma of freedom, that sort of thing," he answered cheekily.

"Funny, all I smell is wet dog and rotting fish," she replied, her eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Well, there's that," he answered with a chuckle. "But there's freedom in there too."

"I see. I didn't think you would consider being a Grey Warden as such."

"In comparison to what I've been accustomed to it is indeed," he began, an uncustomary frown flitting across his face as his voice lowered. "I escaped the tower seven times. After the last time they put me in solitary confinement for a year. Eventually they would have branded me a maleficar and executed me, true or not."

"Was the Circle of Magi really that bad?" she asked softly, her brow furrowed in concern.

"The problem is that mages are merely tolerated. It's like you need permission to be alive! There's nothing a mage can do to prove him…or herself no matter how hard they might try. It's like everyone else needs protection from you, the end," he growled, anger coloring his words with emotion. Eventually he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes before shooting Falcon a goofy grin. "All I want is a pretty girl, a decent meal, and the right to shoot lightning at fools. Is that truly too much to ask?"

"No, I suppose it isn't," she replied with a chuckle. "Just keep those lightning bolts aimed at the darkspawn and away from me."

"Ah, but you are no fool, dear Lady," he drawled, a devilish grin spreading across his lips.

She shook her head in amusement, but suddenly her face dropped, the moment lost.

"Anders?"

"Hmm?"

"I know this isn't exactly the life you wanted, but you do see that I had no other choice?" she asked him seriously, her eyes never leaving his as she gently placed a hand on his forearm, making his skin twitch beneath her touch.

"Yes, of course," he replied after taking a moment to consider her words.

"Good," she said, releasing his arm. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Anders' eyebrows shot up in surprise. This was certainly an unexpected turn of events. He searched her intense cobalt eyes, but could find nothing but complete sincerity in their depths.

"No need to apologize, Commander. Who knows, I might just have a shot at the dream after all," he said with a flirtatious wink.

She smiled at him then, a genuine smile that lit up her entire face and made her eyes dance with amusement. The familiar tug of desire fluttered in his stomach as he watched her nudge Valkyrie to the front of the group. Maker, what a woman! He breathed to himself.

It was in rare moments such as these that Anders glimpsed what he believed to be the true Falcon; the woman she was beneath the characteristic somberness she wore like a shield. Oghren had said she'd changed since the blight, but why? She never spoke about her experiences; never spoke about herself at all for that matter, which was pretty much unheard of for a woman of her station. Every noblewoman he'd ever met just loved to talk about themselves, nearly as much as they loved to gossip and preen, but Falcon was nothing at all like them. It made him ever more curious about her. She was a mystery he desperately wanted to unravel…along with those ridiculous coils she insisted on wearing at the back of her neck.

Anders loved women in general; short, tall, skinny, round…as long as they were warm and willing. He learned to take his pleasure where he could, but he always had a soft spot for women with beautiful hair. Falcon was no exception. At first glance it seemed to be a simple dark brown color, but under certain light he could see shades of deep gold and auburn liberally streaked through the soft waves. At dusk it sometimes took on a rich mahogany hue that was breathtaking against her pale skin and vivid eyes. He wished he knew how long it was, or if it was as silky-soft to the touch as it looked. He could imagine shiny curls cascading down her back, brushing his chest as she moved over him seductively, or how he would wind those beautiful strands around his fists as her head fell back in abandon…Maker. Just thinking about it made his whole body react painfully. He'd always been proud of his sensual appetite, but since his Joining the urge to sate himself had nearly doubled. Wonder if that's a Warden thing? He mused. He had considered asking Oghren and Nathaniel, but could only imagine the ribbing he would get for his trouble. Perhaps he should chalk it up to simple sexual frustration?

Way, way too long since you've been with a woman Anders old boy, he told himself. You really should do something about that.

"Keep a look out for those hunters Garavel told us about. He said they should be somewhere just outside the gate. After that I want to secure rooms for us at the Crown and Lion before looking for this Mervis about the caravan attacks," the Falcon commanded as they approached the city gates.

Her words reminded Anders of where they were and why, mercifully snapping him out of the dangerous procession of his thoughts. He mentally shook himself free of the lingering lust and pasted his best "warden business, move along," look onto his face. He almost thought that the façade was working until Oghren ruined it by taking one look at him and guffawing in disbelief. Sodding dwarf, Anders grumbled to himself with a scowl.

"Best to dismount until we pass the gates, Commander," Nathaniel called from behind them, gesturing towards the large crowd of people trying to enter the city.

Falcon nodded in understanding but didn't turn or comment. Instead she hopped gracefully from the saddle, patting Valkyrie's neck as she waited for the rest of them to follow her lead. Anders had caught her expression, however, and was surprised at the cold look in her eyes. He didn't know why he was surprised; Nathaniel and Falcon hadn't said more than two words to each other since they'd left the Vigil two days ago.

"Is it just me or are things just a bit more frigid than normal?" Anders asked her in a low voice, shifting his eyes in Nathaniel's direction so she was aware of what, or rather whom he was speaking of.

"That bad?" she whispered.

"Any worse and I'd have icicles dripping from my eyes," he answered, trying to make her laugh but failing.

Falcon sighed.

"He knows I am a Cousland," she answered softly once she ascertained that the man in question was not, in fact, listening to their conversation.

"So? Shouldn't he be…I don't know, groveling at your feet and begging forgiveness for his vile behavior?"

"Could you imagine Nathaniel ever doing such a thing?" she answered, arching an eyebrow in speculation.

"Well…no, I guess not, but it still doesn't explain why he's angry at you again."

"He's angry at me because I didn't tell him who I was, and he's angry because despite our families' history I still chose to kill his father. Nathaniel loved him, Anders. He could never understand."

"But surely with time—"

"Rendon Howe didn't change overnight. Nathaniel was never able to see him for what he really was, and he likely never will."

"But—"

"What are you two whispering about?" Oghren growled, reminding them both that they were not alone.

"How best to get you to bathe, my smelly little friend," Anders offered smoothly. Falcon shot him a grateful glance before wrinkling her nose at Oghren.

"You are smelling rather ripe lately, Oghren," Falcon added.

"And yer startin' te sound like Felsi, woman," Oghren snorted.

"Then perhaps you should listen to your wife more often. I daresay when you smell worse than Hector it's time to wash off a layer of grime." Falcon retorted. Hector barked in agreement from behind them, making both Falcon and Anders laugh. Oghren snorted again, mumbling something about topsiders and nug-humpers before dropping the topic altogether.

They soon reached the growing throng of people at the gate. Anders was surprised when the Commander seemed happy enough to wait with the common folk rather than push through the crowd like he knew most nobles would.

"Looking for the company of a real man, honey-pie? I'll show you moves those lads of yours could only dream of," a man called from a campfire just a stone's throw from where they were standing.

Falcon tilted her head as she stared curiously at the man.

"Are your typical overtures always this iniquitous or am I just that fortunate?" she asked.

"W-what?" the man stuttered, blinking the leer from his face.

"She means bugger off," Nathaniel growled, crossing his arms across his chest as he scowled at the man.

Both Anders and Oghren gawked at him and then at each other, matching looks of surprise written across their faces. First he ignores her, then he defends her…how curious, Anders thought. Guessing by Oghren's disbelieving snort, the dwarf was thinking along the same lines. Like it or not, Howe was just as hooked as he was.

"Wait," Falcon said, holding up a fist to signal silence. "Are you Colbert?"

"Who's askin'?

"The Commander of the Grey," she replied bluntly, mirroring Nathaniel by crossing her arms in front of her.

"Ah, Grey Wardens are ya'? Suppose you want to know about the rift we found out in Knotwood Hills?" Colbert crowed, signaling a gangly elf to join them. "This here's Micah."

"Hello," the elf chirped, staring at them blankly.

"If you would, Master Hunter," Falcon replied, gesturing for him to continue.

"Right. We were tracking a buck out in those parts, before this whole darkspawn mess," Colbert began. "Gave us a real chase it did! Spent the better part of a week looking for the clever beast—"

"And the chasm?" Falcon interrupted with a sigh.

"Yes…uh…the chasm. We saw it coming over our rise…looked like someone tried to build over it, though no one in town new anything about it. Must have been abandoned a long time ago. Anyway, we decided to investigate and Micah here fell face first into the pit, screaming and wailing like a newborn babe."

"Earth crumbled. Not stable," Micah said, narrowing his eyes at Colbert.

"Right. Anyway, that's when we saw the darkspawn."

"How many?" Falcon asked.

"More than a brood, less than a horde," Colbert continued with a shrug. "Seemed like they were looking for something. Too preoccupied to notice us at any rate, thank the Maker."

"Wait a second…the darkspawn were 'too preoccupied' to notice two screaming, injured men?" Anders interrupted. "Boggles the mind!"

"We'll have to check it out. Do you remember where this chasm is?" Falcon asked.

"Certainly! I marked it on my map so that we could avoid it in the future."

"Thank you, Colbert," Falcon said as she looked at his map and marked the area on her own. "And you too, Micah."

Micah beamed at her.

"Do we get anything for our trouble?" Colbert whined, perking at the thought of a possible monetary reward. The Commander eyed him wearily, but finally gave them a sovereign apiece. Their eyes widened as they thanked her shook his head as they moved back into the stream of people entering the city. Too generous by half, he thought. We'll all be starving in mismatched armor if she keeps this up.

Soon they found out why such a line had formed at the gates. The guards were stopping everyone to search for smuggled goods and turning away refugees as if they had the darkspawn plague. The combination lent a certain edge to the overall feeling of the mob which made Anders nervous. He usually liked crowds. One could easily get lost in a crowd. Yet he found himself breathing a sigh of relief once they passed the line of guards and moved into the city proper. He couldn't help but smirk a little at the Captain of the Guard's outrage at the young soldier who felt the need to search their new Arlessa's pack for smuggled goods. Falcon hadn't been offended, but the poor lad's expression was well worth the annoyance of having his personal item's rifled through.

Sitting atop his horse, Reynolds (whom he did not name thank you very much!), gave Anders a panoramic view of the city, something he would not have had on foot. Though the sun was out and high in the sky, half the streets were inundated with shallow puddles of water left over from last night's storm. The smell of wet earth, rotting wood and old masonry mixed with the scent of sea air to give Amaranthine its own distinct scent. He could see fragments of the Waking Sea through chinks in the ancient, crumbling walls; a vivid blue-green that stood out against the drab stone. Amaranthine wasn't large, but it was impressive. Hundreds of years, standing at the edge of Fereldan through war and hardship, Anders wondered if it still looked the same as it had in Calenhad's days.

Amaranthine's reaction to the Wardens presence in the city was strange to be sure. He would have wondered if the whole lot of them had never seen armored men on horseback before had it not been for the fact that there were guards posted on every street corner. He spotted a woman hanging laundry from a second story window leaning out to watch them pass, a look of wonder and surprise on her face. Still others in the street stopped what they were doing just to stare. A few bolder natives called out greetings or blessings, and one pretty young lass actually threw a delicate white rose up to him with a cheeky smile. Anders was dumbstruck. The last time he was in Amaranthine he was being dragged, kicking and screaming through the streets by a contingent of templars. Who would have thought I'd be back to this? He mused. Nathaniel had a look on his face that must have been similar to his own expression…either that or Howe was going to be sick behind the bushes, he couldn't tell for sure. Oghren, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the onlookers (at second glance he realized that the dwarf was in a drunken daze, therefore unlikely to notice anything). Anders glanced at Falcon, but her expression was too difficult for him to decipher. He thought perhaps she was just used to the attention, being the Hero of Fereldan and all, but he had a feeling she was just good at hiding her emotions.

Their ride from the gate was blessedly short, leading them to the stables connected to the Crown and Lion. Falcon paid a stable boy to take care of their mounts before beckoning them to follow her into the Inn. Compared to the midday sun outside the taproom was dim and dusty, but smelled pleasantly of baking bread and beeswax. It was there that they found the innkeeper, a gruff man who was only too willing to rent out rooms to the newly appointed Warden-Commander. He had also allowed them to search the room of a man named Kristoff, a Grey Warden the Senechal had told them about before they had left for Amaranthine. He'd not been at the Vigil during the darkspawn incursion, but he also had not been heard from in over a month. Kristoff's chambers had obviously not been occupied for a week or more, the few personal belongings he had left behind left few clues as to what he had been up to. They were about to leave the room when Anders spotted a tattered book poking out from underneath an armchair by the hearth. Upon further inspection he realized that it was, in fact, a journal. Kristoff's journal to be exact.

"Commander, look at this," he said, handing her the volume. Falcon took it from his hands, brow furrowed as she flipped through the pages until she reached the last few entries.

"He went to the Black Marshes," she muttered, closing the book and setting it down on the night stand.

"Why in blazes would he go there?" Oghren asked as he scratched his beard.

"He was tracking darkspawn. We'll investigate, but it'll have to wait," she replied distractedly as she turned to leave the room.

Anders could smell the delicious aroma of food wafting up to greet them as they descended the stairs. Warm, crusty bread, a thick lamb stew and brimming tankards of hot mead covered the surface of a long, scarred wooden table by the hearth. It would have been far more than necessary if they had been typical patrons of the Crown and Lion, but the Innkeeper must have heard of the Warden's legendary appetite. Anders wanted to kiss the man (but of course he wasn't about to). He was starving!

Falcon paid the man for his troubles and the group set about devouring the feast. Once their appetites were sated they gathered their gear and headed back out into the city. A sort of calm had fallen over their mismatched group, creating an overall sense of congeniality as they walked down the narrow cobbled path that led to the marketplace. There was an energy to the city that he hadn't noticed before. The everyday sounds coupled with the soft presence of the chant drifting from the open doors of the chantry produced a peaceful ambiance that he could easily get used to. Even Howe seemed less edgy, which was a blessing in itself. It was a nice change of pace, though Anders new better than to hope that it would last.

"Oy! It's about time you showed up!" an all too familiar voice called to him from across the street. Anders stopped in his tracks, slowly turning his head to the meet the eyes of a very angry elfin woman leaning against a wooden fence nearby.

"Namaya! You're still here?" he said in disbelief, shock written across his face. Without thinking he ran across the road and grabbed the woman up in a bear-hug. She batted at his shoulder until he let her go; backing up another step once he caught the angry look on her face.

"I keep my promises. Here, turns out you were right. The cache is here in Amaranthine," she said, handing him a tattered piece of parchment.

"It is? You found it?"

"I did. What you do with that information is up to you. I, for one, am done dealing with mages," she snapped before turning her angry glare to someone just behind his right shoulder. Anders didn't have to turn to know that she was speaking to Falcon. "A word of advice, don't let him sweet talk you. He's very good at that."

Anders desperately tried to hide the wince that escaped him at her last comment.

"I guess I should thank you," he said meekly, a nervous grin wavering on his lips.

"Damn right you should! You get caught Anders, I'm not helping you again."

And with that Namaya stormed off, not bothering to look back at him as she muttered colorful curses under her breath.

"I suppose that requires some explanation?" he stammered as he turned to face the Commander, his face turning red with embarrassment.

"Friend of yours?" Falcon asked, cocking an eyebrow in question.

"Do I detect a note of jealousy?" he asked with a wicked grin, trying to break the tension.

Instead she narrowed her eyes at him, tapping one dainty foot as she waited for his explanation. Anders sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Namaya is a…friend. Last time I escaped from the tower I asked her to look into some…things…for me. That's why I was in Amaranthine. The templars thought I came to take a ship, but it was to meet her," he explained.

"To find a cache?" she said dryly.

"During the blight, the templars moved their store of phylactery's to Amaranthine for safety. My phylactery is amongst them, or so Namaya found out. So long as the templar's have that sample of my blood, they can find me. I need to destroy it."

"But you're a Grey Warden now. They can't touch you."

"What's to stop the chantry from deciding that mages in the Grey Wardens are apostates? I want to be sure they can never find me again. Ever."

Falcon eyed him wearily, crossing her arms again as she considered his words. Anders could feel sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he waited for her reply. Please do this for me! He mentally pleaded.

"You're right," she finally said with a sigh. "They shouldn't be allowed to control you. Where is this cache?"

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

"Looks like they're stored in an empty warehouse on the far end of the marketplace. Shouldn't be too hard to find," he replied, trying to keep a nonchalant tone to his voice.

"You know, this could be a trap," Nathaniel added as they continued to walk.

"If it is the world will be short a few more tin heads with a death wish," Falcon replied with a lethal grin.

What a woman! Anders thought, his senses melting into a puddle of goo.

"You really are scary sometimes, Commander," Oghren grunted, a proud smile on his face.

"Thanks…I think," she replied.

*Muse Tunes: "The Book" by Nicholas Hooper (Half-Blood Prince OST); "Sherwood Forest" and "The Legend Begins" by Marc Steitenfield (Robin Hood OST); "The Machinations of Cedric" by Rohan Stevenson (Merlin: Series Two OST)