Shock was starting to settle in.
Garrett felt his hands shaking, but clenched them to his sides, glaring at Isabela's back, hoping it would be enough to hide his inner turmoil. At least my anger is genuine... He almost laughed at the thought, making him clench his mouth shut, aware that hysteria was not becoming, nor what they needed.
He had killed, not once, but three times! Darkspawn and animals were one thing, but people! Had any of those deaths been necessary? Perhaps from Isabela's point of view...but had there been no other way?
Hypocrite, you've killed before.
Garrett grimaced. That was different.
Yes, he had killed before, but never out of any other need than to survive, to protect the family. Back when they had been travelling across Ferelden he had, aged fourteen at the time, killed a bandit waiting in ambush with a rock, father had reminded him that he had helped protect them all...and he had calmly agreed.
In Lothering he had once ambushed and killed another farmer who had learnt of Bethany and her magic, he'd managed to make it look like an animal attack, tricking the whole village into hunting down at least fifty wolves. None, not even his family, especially not Bethany who would have felt guilt over it, knew of it. At Ostagar, he had killed one of his allies. By stabbing the man in the hip he had effectively killed him, but he had saved himself and, more importantly, Carver, and by extension their entire family.
He didn't feel any shame over it. Nor had he ever been all that nervous or frightened at the prospect of killing another person for the sake of survival or protecting the family, but then again, each one of those had been planned, he had known what he had set out to do and done it with a minimal of fuss. He had done it as planned.
To his left Bethany walked, as white as a sheet as she no doubt felt just as shocked, if not more so since she'd never killed a person, only Darkspawn, in her life. To his right Carver was walking, looking proud, he had enjoyed the battle far too much, seeing it as something 'glorious', as if there was nothing that could be lost in the deaths of some strangers they had no quarrel with.
Isabela had taken his plan from Garrett, made the full impact of the needless deaths of those people hit him. She had taken Bethany's innocence and muddled it, she had made Carver enjoy needless slaughter and probably made him even more impulsive than he already was.
Garrett glared a bit harder at her back.
Eugh, this isn't helping, focus on the task at hand, the fact that we're making progress.
That cheered him up a bit, which was impressive considering that the drab surroundings of Darktown was hardly a sight inviting hope.
The group had managed to clean themselves up a bit since their battle at the docks, but still looked wretched. Aveline had developed a limp, Bethany never stopped gripping her wounded arm and Garrett's shoulder throbbed with his every step, and then there was the remaining blood crusting against their skin, in their clothes and in their hair... As such it was no surprise that they barely saw a soul, the average inhabitant of Darktown was considered prey, and they had a sense for dangerous predators that made them scurry away like rats. Which was impressive since some claimed nearly half of Kirkwall's population lived down in Darktown, almost every Ferelden refugee lived there, but was still only a large minority compared to the rest of the poor of Kirkwall.
I'm just glad no bigger predator has seen us yet... Garrett glanced left and right; he was well aware they had been lucky at the docks, Bethany's magic hadn't tipped the scales so much as it had surprised the mercenaries enough for the rest to get the jump on them, as such he didn't like the chances of their small group of injured people if they were the ones caught by surprise...
Darktown was an apt name for the underground part of Kirkwall, and actually a nicer name than calling it what it was; a massive crypt, the place where long ago the Tevinter magisters had dumped the leftovers, be they dead or dying, of their blood-magic driven experiments. The only lights that existed there came from dying torches, fluorescent lichen and the odd shaft of light beaming down from holes in the ceiling, a blessing in the shape of poor maintenance. All those lights did a poor job of illuminating the wide halls where the arched ceiling was covered in barely less filth than the floor, and perhaps it was for the best.
"You know, someone really ought to clean this place up." Varric muttered, though his attempt to be funny lacked strength, and even Bethany didn't react to the words that couldn't quite penetrate the filth that seemed to hang within Darktown like a mist.
Tensing, Garrett glared at Isabela, his growl succeeding better than Varric's joke. "How much further?"
"Not far at all..." Isabela chuckled, walked right towards where a the hallway ended in turn to the right...and raised her foot high before kicking at the corner.
It gave way, layers of filth cracking, pieces of it raining down on the floor, then something just above Isabela's head gave way...and the wall, that apparently was nothing but a filthy piece of cloth, fell to the floor.
Light, soft and warm, yet stinging Garrett's eyes now that they were accustomed to the darkness of Darktown, greeted them. As did the nasal voice of a woman exclaiming her annoyance. "Oh for...you open it from the side! Great, now I have to search a refuse pile for a new cloth covered in the right amount of shi..." The woman saw the group entering, her eyes widening. "...shit."
"Don't worry honey, we're good...well good-ish, people." Isabela reassured the woman as Garrett studied her. The woman was clearly Ferelden, but probably paler and thinner than she had once been as the life in Darktown took its toll, she didn't look like she had had a decent meal in months. Still, she wasn't as bad looking as most of the prey who lived in Darktown, she wasn't a thin ghost of a human, looking more like a ghoul than a woman. Then again, Fereldians haven't lived here that long, give it a few more years... Garrett found the thought depressing, yet was glad knowing it wouldn't to any of his own.
The Fereldian woman had adopted the behaviour of a Darktown prey when cornered though; trembling, she dropped to her knees and crawled into a corner, making herself as small as possible in the hope of none of the threats before her hurting her. "Poor girl..." Bethany muttered, slowing down to offer the trembling mess a sympathetic look.
Garrett grabbed her arm, pulling her along. "We can't help her, get a move on."
Behind him, Bethany muttered something angry, but Garrett ignored it as his now accustomed eyes took in the sight before him.
The room they had entered was surprisingly roomy and practically devoid of furniture, the walls lined with small crates used as benches by what had to be five dozen people, entire families sitting there and waiting. Ahead, crowding around a doorway, there were more people nearly as many as were sitting along the walls in fact. Almost all of them Fereldians, coughing, clutching injuries or rashes, all looking either sick or undernourished, most a little bit of both.
They were all turning their heads, staring at the group, eyes becoming wide in fright, those crowding around the doorway parting, pushing towards the sides of the room to make room for the armed and blood-soaked group coming forth. They could easily kill us. Garrett could by a quick headcount figure the group was surrounded by more than a hundred people, they might be undernourished and only carry the odd knife, but in a fight they would swamp the group...but Garrett's time with the Footpads had taught him a valuable lesson, that of intimidation.
Glaring hard at some of the Fereldians that were closer to the doorway with their hands moving into their clothes he lightly touched his blade, immediately they scuttled further away from it, the defiant light in their eyes instantly fading as their instincts took control over their will to protect the Warden they loved.
Good, we better make sure this Warden recognises us as friendly swiftly though, we can't scare them off forever. With that in mind, Garrett pushed past Isabela and took the lead, striding right towards the doorway where a flimsy piece of cloth was blocking the view into the next room.
He pushed it aside and stepped inside, eyes instantly fixed upon the sight ahead.
The room was smaller than the one behind him, but still somewhat roomy. In the far right corner a cot stood on rickety legs, the closet of scared wood next to it suggesting that corner was used as a living quarter. The rest of the walls were covered with shelves and chests though, the chests were closed, not revealing their content, but the shelves were displaying hundreds of glass jars holding liquids in all manner of colours, some with more solid matters in them. The floor of the room was of cold stone, here and there blemished by blood that the still wet mop in a corner had apparently missed during a quick cleaning. There were several tables spread across the floor, all covered in thick mats of straw and with a single pillow at one end, improvised beds that all looked recently used.
Only the bed in the centre of the room was being used at the moment though. A scrawny boy lay on his back atop it, though most of him was blocked from sight by the back of a man in a dark robe and hood that stood bent over the boy. A gloved left hand was held over the boy's head, making a soft green glow hovering over his forehead, probably keeping the boy soundly asleep even as the cloaked man put aside a blood.-covered knife before moving his freed hand back towards the boy's torso.
Next to the bed a pale woman stood, eyes wide as she wrung her hands, clearly struggling not to leap forth. As if sensing it, the man spoke up, his voice dry and raspy. "Do not worry, he'll live." There was a flash of white light...and the boy twitched. "There, the kidney is healed, now for the infection..." The man's had darted down to a jar next to the knife, pulling out a fine brown powder before it returned to his work. "...with rest this will be enough, now for the flesh..." Another flash, longer, softer. "...good as new." The man straightened with a weary sigh and turned his hooded face towards the woman even as the light above the boy's head faded away, making him blink as he swiftly began to wake. "Tell him to stay away from the dog-sizedrats, there might be more to eat, but they didn't get that big by eating scraps..."
"I will, I will, thank you..." The woman whimpered, unable to contain herself as she stumbled forth and grabbed what had to be her son's arm, hauling him to his feet. "And you're in big trouble, mister! I'm going to..." Her voice, tinged with relief as much as anger, faded out as she caught sight of the group that had barged into the room.
Silence.
Then the cloaked figure spun round, something beneath his dark hood glowing a harsh blue as his gloved right hand shot back, dark red fire suddenly in the palm of his hand as his left shot out palm first, a shimmering blue aura appearing in front of it. Garrett couldn't quite make out the man's features beneath the hood, but the parched lips there spoke with authority and anger. "This is a place of healing, not violence, you are not allowed here. If you think I will be intimidated you will be shown the error of your..." The voice lost some of it's authority as the hooded man cocked his head to the side. "...a mage...?"
Realizing the man was staring at Bethany, Garrett stepped in front of her, glowering at the man and his magic fire as he gripped his sword. "Do we have a problem?" He ignored the woman as she grabbed her son and scurried towards the exit and away from the confrontation.
"Not...as much of one as I thought..." The cloaked man hesitated...then the fire in his hand died out as he straightened, hands dropping down to his sides. "Explain yourselves, what is a guard..." He spat the word, making Aveline bristle. "...a mage..." Bethany looked away. "...and dwarf doing together? And more specifically, here?"
"Heh, there's a joke starting like that..." Varric chuckled.
"Ending with the dwarf the only one left standing in a pile of empty glasses, I know it." The hooded man replied with something approaching a dry chuckle, making Garrett shudder. Something about the man felt...wrong. "But that doesn't explain why...ah...you." The man turned his head, regarding Isabela that had taken to stand at the far edge of the group. "Knew it was a mistake treating you, this place was to remain a secret, remember?"
Isabela shrugged, smirking at the man. "What can I say? I got a nicer deal than a balm that itched."
"It healed you, didn't it? And taught you a lesson...or so I had hoped." The man sighed, a dreary sound, hollow. "And now a guard is here, tell me, are you here to arrest me?" He regarded Aveline, despite his dark hood, Garrett could sense there was an ironic glint in his eyes somewhere within that darkness.
Aveline straightened, her chin raised high. "I don't recall offering free treatment of my countrymen to be an offence. As to a mage being out of the Circle, that's templar business, Chantry law isn't my jurisdiction."
"Good...though I wonder how long that will last...for as long as it's convenient, I'm guessing..." There was a hint of irony in the man's voice, hostile irony, but Aveline was wise enough not to react to it. "And you, the leader of this strange group, have yet to explain why you're here, and who this mage is. Another one seeking protection from enslavement by the Chantry?"
Garrett realised the man was speaking to him, apparently recognising him as the one leading the group. "My sister already has protection." He thumped a hand into his armoured chest, Carver only being a second behind him as the brother was too busy glaring at the Warden, apparently – and not surprisingly – not liking what he saw. "And we are here because we have need of your help."
"Someone who knows the value of freedom and the plight of those born with magics...I'm listening." There was a hint of approval in the cloaked man's voice as he visibly relaxed and moved closer. "And you do need my help, I don't usually help those that look as well off as you, but that looks like a nasty cut..."
"I won't turn away help." Garrett replied, a quick glance backwards stopping his siblings from moving forth to protect him as the figure in dark robes moved forth, black gloves reaching up to the cut over his shoulder, making him hiss at the slight touch. "But that was not the help I was referring to..." He lost his train of thoughts as he felt the magic envelope him, his gaze fixed on the face of the Warden.
The hood cast much of the face in darkness, but that close Garrett could see that the man's eyes were exceedingly blue, his chin covered in stubble and a few rogue strands of blond hair hung in front of his face. What made Garrett stare though, were the scars, deep, wide and criss-crossing the man's face, the Warden's face looking as if someone had torn it off, cut it into pieces and then glued them together as close to what it should be as they could...except the skin had dried out and become smaller, making large gaps appear between the pieces.
Dear Maker, what happened to you!
If it hurt, it didn't show, the Warden's eyes were narrowed in concentration as his dry lips spoke. "Hold still." His breath was...lifeless, brittle and without moisture. Yet his magic was more than vivid and alive, when Bethany healed Garrett's scrapes and cuts it was a tickling sensation, but the Warden's healing was like a balm, the cut far too large for Bethany's limited abilities warming up, as if a warmed iron was being pressed against it.
It was...soothing.
And done in moments.
Stepping back, the Warden's face once more became lost in the shadows of his hood, something Garrett shamefully felt thankful of. "I am Anders, though I'm sure Isabela has already told you that." Garrett shot the woman a glare, she had not. In reply she simply shrugged, not about to apologise. "Now, what is this help you speak of...?" Now the man was wary once more. "And more importantly, who are you?"
"Garrett Hawke." The reply made the Warden cock his head slightly to the side, apparently he had heard of Garrett. Not sure if that's good or bad, we'll see. "And I understand that you are a Warden-"
"Was." Anders interrupted with surprising heat, something within his robed body tensing.
"Was a Warden..." Garrett smoothly continued, not about to let himself get sidetracked or anger the mage. "...and as such know of the Deep Roads." To his surprise, the mage shuddered, turning his face away, apparently he had no good memories of that place...which wasn't so surprising, when Garrett thought about it. "We happen to be equipping an expedition into it, yet need a map and a way to enter it, I hoped to barter it from you."
Anders looked back at him, stepping closer. "That is...an interesting proposition, I would argue the dangers of going there, but I sense you've already considered the risks." Garrett shrugged. "In that case...yes...yes you can." Stepping back, Anders gestured at the walls surrounding them. "As you can see I have all I require, food, drink and medicines, I get by. What I require isn't monetary, but something else."
"And that would be?" Garrett asked, he had expected something like that, Warden's weren't exactly known to be in need of help with the basics of life. Behind him he felt Carver tense though, his brother clearly not looking forward to helping the strange man.
"I am forming...I suppose you could call it a resistance." The Warden leant back, placing his hands on the table upon which he so recently had treated the boy on. "Knight-Commander Meredith is a cruel woman, and there's many mages wishing to be free of her leash, as much as that of the Chantry in general. I guess you can sympathise?"
Bethany eagerly nodded, and Garrett mimicked it somewhat more calmly, he felt bad for those trapped within the circle, how could he not when his father had been among them once, but as long as it wasn't Bethany he could keep an emotional distance to it. "Go on."
"Well I've been smuggling mages out of the Circle for some time; only a handful since the Templars are strict and skilled in keeping the tower locked down, but I've managed a few times." A weary sigh escaped Anders, as if he wasn't pleased with his work. "I had an informer there, setting up meetings and such...but for a long time he was quiet...until now, apparently there's a great danger and he dares not inform me via letter of it, but wishes to meet me."
Garrett tensed. "That sounds...dangerous." Behind him, Bethany was getting paler. "As I said before, I protect my sister, I will not bring down the wrath of the Templars on our heads."
"I understand, but this is bigger than one mage, this is about every mage in Thedas." There was more heat, even warmth, in Ander's voice now, it was clearly a topic he had embraced. "For that risking one mage's freedom is a pittance, but-" He raised his hand before Garrett could protest. "...there is not much danger for her, I do not risk my fellow mages more than I have to, she can even stay behind if you so desire."
"Ah, but you're fine with risking us for the sake of mages we've never met, how nice..." Carver suddenly spoke up, tone sour. Garrett shot him a glare, he was well aware that Carver disliked magic in general, in particular since Bethany's gift had made life for them so...difficult...but now was not the time to voice it.
"As I said...there's not much danger." Anders replied with a glance at Carver before he looked back at Garrett. "In fact, I mostly need you as a guide, my contact is a mage by the name of Karl, he wishes to meet me in the Chantry in five days time."
Sounds doable. Garrett kept a neutral face though as he spoke. "The Chantry? Isn't that a bit of an odd place to have a meeting?"
"Mages are allowed there so they can pray to the Maker for forgiveness for being born the way they are..." Again, there was heat in Anders' voice, this time of anger. "It will not be odd for him to go there, and I know of sympathisers that can distract his guards so he can evade them for a time, he will be punished, but it's no more than what he's used to." Garrett shuddered, he had had nightmares of what Bethany would endure in the Circle, the idea of someone willingly going through more of it to simply have a meeting...it meant it was something important. "The problem is to get me there. The Templars are constantly searching for me, and a man in my...position is easily discovered by them." Anders paused, regarding Garrett. "But you are Hawke, of the Footpads...I hear you know of secret ways into any place..."
"Almost." Garrett admitted, it was not good to boast about what he knew of when it wasn't necessary, but it was not a well-kept secret that he had gathered knowledge on how to get into most areas of Kirkwall in less traditional ways. "And yes, I can get you into the Chantry to speak with this Karl." Bethany will not come with us though, just in case. "Will that suffice? An entry for a map?"
"Yes." The hooded man bowed his head.
Behind Garrett, Carver sighed.
8
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8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her speedy work.