Chains of Blood

by Setrus

Champions aren't trained, they're made, through coincidence and hardships, potential is forged into ability. And as old and new conflicts ignite into something more, that ability will be sorely tested... T for violence and possible romance, not a simple retelling of the game, where would the fun in that be?

30. Chapter 30

"Stay alert."

Shield held in front of him, falchion resting on the rim, Garrett slowly lead the advance. He knew it was important to keep up the pace. If Karras and his Templars showed up things would get far more difficult...but that didn't mean they should rush in, a stray fireball loosed by a nervous mage would be equally disastrous.

The cave they were in seemed to have been inhabited at some point, the odd wooden board and rusted piece of metal sticking out from the dirt like half-buried skeletons of some ancient time. It was larger than Garrett had expected, a network of wide tunnels leading ever deeper into the ground, and as they kept descending, more remains from the old inhabitants appeared. A broken sickle, a pile of mouldy rags, half a dozen broken...was it metal collars? Maybe a hiding place for escaped slaves when Kirkwall was Tevinter's? Or a storage of them during transport to it? Garrett threw Fenris a glance, noticing the elf's tightly drawn features, the man had drawn the same conclusion, perhaps even remembering something similar. Elf better stay focused though, I'm not paying him to whine.

It was Isabela who spoke up though, amusement in her voice. "Yeah, you never know...could be spiders in here."

What? Garrett turned to look at the woman, finding her full lips curled in a shameless smirk. But you weren't with me when we...I see. Garrett turned his gaze to Merrill, eyes narrowing. The elf was exceedingly busy staring at the ground, looking extremely guilty, the tip of her ears and much of her neck red. The pirate and the blood-mage elf spending time together, not sure who'll be the worst influence on the other. Garrett turned back to watch where he was going with a glower, forcing himself to reply. "Yes, there could be." Actually, there is a fair chance she's right... Irritated with himself, Garrett threw the ground a nervous glance.

Behind him, Isabela gave voice to a low chuckle.

Anders was not amused though, voice low. "Something isn't right." A sniff. "You sense that, Merrill?"

Garrett, on his guard at the words, looked ahead, noticing the way the tunnel widened into a chamber ahead with apprehension. The ground there consisted of loose sand, the walls hidden in shadows seemingly deeper than they had any right to be. A trap?

"Y-yes...it's...strange, yet familiar?" The elf hesitantly replied. Glancing back, Garrett found the woman clutching at her staff that had a spear-tip fastened to it in an effort to make her look like more of a sellsword rather than a mage...though that image was somewhat ruined by the nervous look on her face.

Anders, of course, did not bother heeding Garrett's advice on such, and his staff was carved with jagged symbols similar to the wounds over his skin...wounds now shifting as his features twisted into a grimace. "Familiar?"

Ahead, the ground stirred.

Oh...

Near the entrance to the chamber, a skeleton dressed in grey rags rose, sand pouring from holes in its brittle bones, dark eye-sockets staring at Garrett as it raised a broken sickle.

Behind it, more skeletons rose. Knives, cleavers, hammers, scythes, all skeletons carried tools now held as weapons. Several still wore rusted collars around their necks, slaves once more summoned to serve, this time to another master.

...damn.

Fenris roared, surging past Garrett, sweeping his long war hammer down on the skeleton as it thrust its sickle at him.

Blood fell from Fenris' side and the skeleton shattered into dust.

Still roaring, the elf charged on, finally making the others move to follow. Fenris had a good head start though, and surged forward, a horizontal sweep sending three skeletons flying despite their attempts to block the swing. One leapt forth, swinging its scythe down on Fenris' head, only for him to bash the swing aside with the head of his war hammer before shattering its skull with the butt of its haft, his voice a snarl. "Filthy mages...!"

Anders' answer was a growl, the mage hurling a fireball over Fenris' head, the missile exploding at the centre of the chamber and immolating a near dozen skeletons as their dry bones went up like kindling.

"Sorry!" Merrill's cry was high-pitched and came with a bolt of lightning that struck a skeleton square in the chest, shattering it, slivers of its bones making two more fall to the ground as they were struck by the fragments.

"I'm not!" Isabela cried, a grin in her voice as she darted past Fenris. Her knives flashed, breaking the ribs of two skeletons and driving them onto their back. Then she leaned backwards under the swing of a third skeleton's axe, her left foot kicking up high, turning her opponent's jaw to dust.

With Isabela reinforcing Fenris slightly to the right, and Merrill clearly fixed on those trying to move in on the right, Garrett moved to the left.

There, a skeleton raised a massive smith's hammer...and then stumbled, its leg pulled out from under it by Maric as the dog lunged past Garrett...who split the skeleton's head in two with a single swing.

The next skeleton leaned forward and thrust a knife after Maric, only for the dog to duck back as Garrett swung at the exposed foe, cutting its arm off at the elbow and smashing it apart with his shield as he charged forward. Another tried to swing a hammer at his head, only to strike Garrett's shield before it was pulled down as Maric bulled right through it. The one after that brought down a short axe at Maric before the dog could pull out of the remains of its comrade, but Garrett caught the blow with an outstretched falchion, forced his foe's arm upwards and swung his shield, splitting its skull with the rim.

And then it was suddenly over.

Looking around himself, Garrett lowered his sword, seeing nothing but his group standing in a fine cloud of grey dust, the shattered undead once more in the ground. Best not try to think of what the dust is made off. Garrett spat out a phlegm of grey spit. "Fenris, you're okay?"

"Huh?" The elf looked up from where he was staring at the ground, gaze dull. "I'm fine, why?" He didn't even seem to notice the wound in his side. "I'm fine." He looked back down to the broken bones, the dull look slowly replaced by one of anger. "I'm fine."

Don't look fine. Garrett shrugged. He didn't overly care for Fenris, an elf that didn't even try to be liked, his only good feature being honest about who he was, unlike Merrill. "As you say, everyone else unharmed?" There was a string of affirmatives, spoken from mouths gasping for air after the sudden skirmish. Time to rethink this. "Right, the mages are hostile and using blood magic, we're pulling out. Let Karras deal with this."

Anders glared at him at that. Merrill stared in horror and Fenris looked grim but satisfied.

The voice speaking up though, was another one, uncertain and small. "A-actually...we're n-not..."

As one, the group turned to the far end of the chamber, weapons at the ready.

The dark-skinned man in a torn circle robe stepping out of the shadows held his trembling hands up though, his features gaunt and haggard, the whites in his eyes large with fear. "I...I surrender..." He looked over the bones strewn over the ground and licked his lips, eyes widening even further. "I...I've been trying to surrender for hours now..."

"Oh sure, now you say that. Would that still have been true, had we died?" Fenris snorted, making the mage whimper.

Anders shook his head though. "No, I don't believe that. This magic...we triggered it, it's still lingering, it had to be cast a few days ago."

Fenris rolled his eyes, but the mage was nodding. "Y-yes...De-Decimus said...h-he th-thought they were getting cl-closer...he...he won't let us leave now..." He shook his head. "He...he's crazy...thinks we should start a war..." Fenris shot Anders a smug look, making the mage glare back. "B-but I just wanted to...I don't know anymore...I...I want to go home..." The mage whimpered, closing his eyes. "I'm so hungry..."

"Decimus? Who is he?" Garrett lowered his sword, but only an inch, and took a step closer to the mage. Bethany needs five seconds to cast a spell, I could close this distance in three... He eyed the mage, not about to lower his guard just yet. Weakened or not, he was still dangerous if he snapped. "He's your leader?"

"He...he started the fire..." The circle mage replied, nodding, eager to please. "He said we could be free..." The man clutched at his stomach, grimacing. "...I don't feel free..." Of course not, we're all slaves to our needs.

Anders grunted in annoyance. "Of course not, you need time to learn, to-"

"So Decimus is the one who cast this spell? He's the blood-mage?" Garrett interrupted, not about to allow more arguments in the ranks. "What of the others?"

"They...they're tired..." Hesitantly, the man lowered his hands, body seemingly becoming smaller as he slouched, taking a deep breath, a glitter of hope in his eyes. "...Decimus keeps them around, telling them he's their leader...he's...he's more like their jailer...I had to sneak out, but couldn't get past these...these guards..." He glanced back down at the corpses, then back up to Garrett. "They want to go home too...please, they...they're not bad people..."

"I see." Garrett frowned, thinking. That changes thing, one mage instead of twelve, but a blood-mage...one man though. "Go on, outside a Templar named Thrask will be waiting, surrender to him."

The man gasped in relief, nearly slumping to his knees even as Fenris shot Garrett a frown. "Oh thank you, thank you!"

Not wasting another breath, the man ran for it.

In moments, the sound of him running faded away.

Garrett, still frowning, looked at where the mage had come from, unsure, yet unable to convince himself to turn away. "Right, we have a single hostile mage, we're going to take him out and free the others." Garrett nodded to himself. Simple, a man dies easily, if we can get to him... "We go in as quietly as we can, they might have heard the fighting..." Likely, actually. "But they don't know who we are or how many. All of us will focus on killing Decimus, once he's gone, whatever more he has summoned to face us will be a non-issue." Fenris looked sullen, Merrill unsure, Anders torn...and Garrett ignored them all. "Let's go."

He moved forward.

And behind him, Merrill piped up as the others followed. "So...he's their jailer...? After they escaped the Circle? Isn't that...erm...a little ironic?"

Garrett frowned, having wondered if anyone else had noticed that, but not expecting it to be the daft elf. "Indeed."

8

8

8

Come on, come on...

A tense pit was in Garrett's stomach, one beyond the regular fear a man felt when in combat. It was the fear of a battle in the balance, of staying on the precipice of disaster.

The last chamber of the cave was shaped like a shallow boat, with the middle approach to the far side being a wide expanse of gravel and dirt set lower than the rest of the cave. The left approach was far narrower, though much of it was concealed by stalactites that had melted together over centuries, creating an inner wall covered with jagged holes for most of the approach. The right approach had no such wall, and was barely more than a narrow path, nearly too small even for a single person.

As such, to get to Decimus at the far end of the chamber, after a tactical discussion with Anders, Garrett had chosen to split his forces. Decimus was a mage, but only one man, and as such the more he had to split his attention, the more vulnerable he was. So Garrett had taken Anders and Fenris with him and charged down the centre, he and the elf charging down into the expanse while the mage stayed in the rear to support them. He'd sent Isabela up on the left approach, her knives flashing, while Merrill was given the right.

Decimus was defending himself well though, too well. Atop a small rise at the far end of the cave, the man had those he professed to protect kneeling in the dirt, clutching at their heads, blood dripping from their noses and ears as purple energy rose like smoke from their heads. It coiled together and formed a shimmering dome around them as Decimus stood before them. The dome had deflected three lightning bolts from Merrill before Garrett had shouted at her to target something else, his hope for destroying the mage with a quick stroke in tatters.

His eyes alight with a crimson red, Decimus held his bleeding hands out, an utterly mad laugh escaping him as he gestured left and right, casting spells as if it was not the slightest effort. Blood mage filth. Garrett narrowed his eyes even as he leant back, taking a hammer to his shield before shattering the skull of the attacking skeleton with his falchion. He'd put himself slightly at the back, guarding Anders, since the mage was far more effective versus the hordes of dry bones Decimus had awakened in the centre with his devastating fireballs. Even better, Merrill was stopping many of the horde from moving with her vines, making them easy targets for Garrett's other mage.

Fenris was not as tactical. The elf had taken up a surprisingly fine greatsword he'd found during their approach and claimed it as his part of the loot, and though Garrett hadn't liked losing such a good weapon to an elf when Carver would have loved it, he could not stop Fenris from taking what he wanted. Fenris was using the weapon to great effect though, two-handed sweeps smashing aside multiple dead before they could even get in range to attack, their clumsy movements and mindlessness making for easy targets for the master swordsman.

Garrett's attention wasn't on fighting though, his gaze taking in Decimus' mad eyes moving from the centre to Isabela. Blood was, like a snake, coiling around the man's right forearm, and he thrust it out towards the pirate, making yet more skeletons rise from the ground before her. She merely laughed at the opposition though, most of her battle concealed behind stalagmites, knives flashing past the holes in the wall of stalagmites at times, followed by the crunch and clatter of breaking bones. Decimus, growling something intelligible, was moving his arms again, making downed skeletons in the centre rise once more while yet more joined those taking on Isabela.

Garrett, judging the time was right, called out. "Maric, Isabela, Merrill, now!"

Casting a final lightning bolt across the chamber – shattering part of the wall of stalagmites and sending fragments of rocks smashing through the undead lining up to take on the pirate – Merrill took a step back, pressing her back against the wall as Maric suddenly bulled past her, the dog sprinting down the narrow path without hesitation.

Then the dog suddenly whimpered, coming to a full stop, dropping down onto his belly as one of Decimus hands glowed red, pointing a curved finger at the hound. Maric! Garrett began to move forward, hands gripping his sword tighter.

At the other side, Isabela, kicking aside the last skeleton, rushed forward, knife hurtling through the air, making Decimus grunt in pain and surprise as it cut his neck, making arterial blood spurt out. Yes!

The blood pouring from Decimus's throat curled around him though, fluttering like a scarf in the wind, as his other hand shot out, making Isabela shriek as she dropped onto her knees, clutching at her head. No! Wait, both his hands are...

"Fenris! Forward!" Garrett charged, slamming his shield into a skeleton trying to reach the elf, then cut the leg off a second as he ducked low under its swing.

The elf didn't need to be told twice. His tattoos glowing, Fenris ploughed forward, breaking through the skeletons with a single swing and a fireball from Anders hurtling over his head. Without Decimus reinforcing those troops anymore, there was no more undead rising to block the elf's advance...and the mage didn't even see Fenris until they were face to face.

Decimus's eyes opened wide, a grunt escaping his open mouth.

Fenris' tattoos shimmered, his eyes flashing in rage.

The undead crumpled to dust.

And then Fenris wrenched his sword free from Decimus' gut with a sucking sound, making blood flood out as the mage slumped to his knees, the glow in his eyes fading as he stared up at Fenris, the elf glaring back.

Growling, Fenris swung his sword high, then down.

Decimus' head hit the ground.

Taking a deep breath, relieved, Garrett strode forward as fast as he could, eyes fixed on the remaining mages even as he spoke. "Maric, Isabela, you two okay?"

"I...I think so?" Isabela muttered, sounding groggy. "Feels like I've just woken up from a binge night at the Hanged man..."

Maric gave voice to a woof, tired but calm.

"Good." Ahead, Fenris was glowering down at the remaining ten mages, making them shirk back, forgetting about the blood under their noses and ears as they watched far more drip from Fenris' sword. It was pointedly still levelled at them as he defiantly glared at them as if expecting them to rise up and attack at any moment. "Fenris, calm down, victory is ours."

A growl, deep from within Fenris' throat...and he lowered the weapon an inch. "We'll see, they were used by a blood mage, they're rebellious mages...make your own conclusions."

Anders snorted, but before he could reply, Garrett snapped. "I see ten half-starved men and women cowering before an armed elf, hoping he doesn't gut them." He narrowed his eyes. "Sheathe that blade."

Fenris glared at him.

Garrett glared back.

Slowly, very slowly, Fenris lowered the blade.

Then he snorted and stalked away, pulling out a rag stuck in his belt and sweeping it over his sword with a grumble. "This will be our undoing, I know it..."

In contrast, Anders mutter was encouraging. "You're doing the right thing, Garrett."

He shook off both men's words and continued onward, raising his voice as he eyed the remaining mages. "You there, rise, you're safe now...as long as you behave." Next to him Maric appeared, the Mabari silently stalking forward, all lean muscle, ready to pounce should anyone get any ideas, and showing it.

The mages, slowly rising to their feet, eyed the dog, some with fear, but most with empty eyes, too tired to care. The one standing at the front was a slim redhead though, and she was the only one with a glitter of awareness in her eyes, however tired they may be. "You...you're not Templars...De-Decimus said..."

"There's a Templar outside." Garrett said before she could continue, not about to waste more time when Karras and his fellow Templars were coming. "He sent us in to stop things from turning into a battle." Garrett shot the broken skeletons around them a pointed look, then Decimus' head. "But that's over with now, isn't it?" He arched an eyebrow, looking back to the woman.

Who swallowed. "I...I...yes...over. We surr-" She blinked. "A Templar? Just one? Couldn't...couldn't you...is there nothing we can..."

"Ten free for a single man dead." Anders put the words into the mouth of the woman.

Garrett rolled his eyes, but he didn't deign to even glance at Anders. "Templars have no possessions." He knew the others would frown at that, confused, but he was used to explaining himself, so continued. "Which means he got the gold he paid us with from the order, and Thrask can't tell a lie, so he told them he was hiring mercenaries. What do you think happens when they find him dead and the mages gone? They'll launch an investigation."

"But surely-"

"We're not killing a Templar." Garrett snapped, his glower making the woman before him shirk back a step. He'd had far too many sleepless nights over those Templars they'd been forced to kill before, of the danger his family had been in. "Besides, I thought you'd be against killing one of the mage-friendly Templars in the city?"

Anders and the woman snorted as one, the later shaking her head as well. "Friendly? What do you know of how some Templars treat us? You think-"

"Or perhaps we should just turn back?" Garrett interrupted, narrowing his eyes at her. "Leave and let Ser Karras and his men clean up this mess when they arrive?"

The woman's eyes grew wide as saucers.

Garrett cocked his head to the side, forcing his face to remain grim. If Bethany saw me now...no, don't think on it, I'm doing this for her and our family, I can't risk enraging bringing down the wrath the Templars on us. "Ser Thrask wants to help you...Ser Karras...well, you're right, I don't know how some Templars treat you."

Slowly, the woman slipped to her knees. "S-surrender...I-we...surrender." She swallowed, eyes pleading. "T-take us to Thrask...n-not..." She looked down at the ground, shivering. "...not him..."

This could have been Bethany... His heart softening even as he sensed Anders' disapproval, Garrett reached down and gripped the woman's arm, gently helping her back to her feet. "It's for the best, he's a good man, he'll help you...did you really think you could have survived out here? Hunted and with no knowledge of life outside the Circle?"

The woman sighed, a choked little sob escaping her as she kept staring at the ground. "N-no..."

Anders was visibly fuming when Garrett turned around, fortunately, having learnt his lesson, the man remained silent. Fenris on the other hand was nodding with curt approval, though his eyes said he thought Garrett a lenient fool. Isabela was shaking her head, obviously not approving of imposing on the mages freedom – silly woman, none of us are free – while Merrill was simply staring at the mages, looking deeply sorry for their state. I suppose they do look wretched... The thought made Garrett grimace as he forced himself to speak his next words. "Isabela, bind their hands."

"What?!" Anders gasped, eyes wide in horror. Though to Garrett's relief, Isabela ignored the man's bluster as with an overly-dramatic sigh she moved to obey. "You kill one of them, frighten them into submission and now you want to-!"

"It's for their protection." Garrett snapped, grimly meeting Anders' gaze. "We're supposed to give the impression of arresting them, not helping them...or do you wish to try and explain everyone we pass why our 'prisoners' don't look the part?"

Anders opened his mouth, then thought better of it and closed it with an angry click. Meanwhile Fenris was approaching, giving the mage a grim glance before looking back to Garrett as he spoke. "Fine, by all means, protect the apostates, as long as I get my gold. But know that I think you far too-"

"Enough." Garrett snapped with a sharp gesture. "We're not arguing anymore." Am I leading children? They are free to their opinions, but this is not the time, nor the place. "Isabela, are you done?"

He turned, finding the pirate busy with the last mage, using thin leather straps she'd pulled from...Garrett really didn't want to know. How can one wearing so little carry so much...? "Sure, almost done. Why do you always task me with tying them up, by the way?" She shot him a smirk. "Is it because you think I have experience from it in the bedchamber? You wouldn't be-"

"It's because you're a sailor." Garrett growled, exasperated, and all the more so when his reply made the pirate chuckle. No, not children, teenagers, the lot of them...

8

8

8

Oh no.

Ahead, Garrett could see daylight, the light of the sun warm...and the cold reflection it cast against the steel of Templars. More than one...Garrett eyed them with a mix of fear and careful calculation. Thrask and...seven more. We need to thread very carefully...damn Decimus, we could have been long gone!

Drawing his sword, he shot the rest of the group a pointed look and used the flat of his weapon to push the nearest mage forward. Better play our part...Maker, and hope Thrask keeps his mouth shut. "Keep going, you lot, I want to get back to Kirkwall before sun-fall." He kept his voice loud, loud enough to be heard...and hoped he could play the role of sellsword good enough. Well...I am a sellsword, of a fashion.

Silently, the group, 'prisoners' and 'jailers' alike, filed out of the cave. A grim gesture from Garrett made Anders and Merrill line up the mages along the entrance before subtly moving to stand behind them, concealing whatever magic the Templars could sense with those in front of them. Now if only Merrill could stop looking so scared and Anders enraged...

Next to him, Maric gave voice to a low growl, making Garrett quickly put down a hand to calm the dog. What are you doing? You'll give us all away! He glanced at the dog, then followed his gaze, finding the leader of the newly arrived Templars turn away from his conversation with Thrask to regard Garrett. Oh. The man was tall, built like a brick and was eagerly fingering his sword in his sheathe as he eyed the whimpering mages before him, his left eye was cold as ice, the right a milky white as that half of his face sported the pale skin of some old burn that must have been close to killing him when it was inflicted.

The man had another bare-faced man next to him, a giant of a man sporting a black beard and a puckered scar diagonally cut across his face, his nearly black eyes regarding Garrett as if he was a wall. The tip of his large sword rested on the ground as he leant both hands on a grip covered with inlays depicting the flaming sword of Andraste, the blade itself shimmering with the light of silverite, a true weapon of a knight.

The remaining five had their helmets on, but all somehow managed to look as grim. Their plate armour was shining in the light, yet sported many a blemish. Dents, scratches, the odd scorch mark...these were not the Templars Garrett had been forced to fight in Kirkwall, not men of a garrison, a police force...these were hunters, veteran warriors. And they're ready, not about to be surprised or outflanked...no, battle is not an alternative. It had never been, but the realisation that failure to keep things from devolving would lead to instant death, rather than something that might come later, made a trickle of cold sweat run down Garrett's spine.

"Ah, these are the mercenaries then, I take it?" The one with the milky eye spoke, undoubtedly the leader, Karras. He eyed the group before him with narrowed eyes. "And with our quarry...ten of them." He eyed Garrett, his tone far too pleasant. "Tell me, where's the last one? I don't see Decimus."

Garrett, keeping his face blank, shrugged. "He resisted."

"Ah, so he was the one dangerous one...as our friend said." Karras glanced to the side, past the grim-looking Thrask and to the mage that had surrendered to them before...a mage now on his knees, whimpering as he clutched at a horribly bruised face. "Yet a mage, a blood-mage...and you bested him? The five of you and a dog? Without any losses?" Karras regarded Garrett with an arched eyebrow as the man forced a nod...then he smiled, glancing back at his men. "If only I could find as good sellswords as our good Ser Thrask!" The men chuckled, amused, yet at the same time grim, hands on their sheathed weapons.

"We have some experience handling rogue mages, Ser."Garrett replied as calmly as he could. "There's good money in it."

"Ah yes, money, the Chantry's money." Karras shot Thrask a disapproving glance, making the other Templar straighten, defiant. A moment later, Karras was smiling again, lips curled, eyes cold. "Well, a deal's a deal, use the money in good health." His gaze darted to the mages, the smile remaining on his lips even as his remaining eye turned dark with smouldering hate. "As to you lot-"

Garrett spoke before he could think, an image of Bethany flashing before his eyes as he watched Karras' fist closing tight. "They have surrendered to Ser Thrask, Ser."

For a moment, it looked like the Templar didn't hear, then his eye flashed as he looked back to Garrett. "Thrask mentioned something about that, yes...they'll be taken back to Kirkwall, as I understand it." He narrowed both eyes, the smile lingering on his lips. "Which is good, of course...though tell me, have they been properly...neutralised?"

"They have surrendered, they're bound..." Garrett replied, confused...and growing yet more afraid.

"Indeed..." Karras smiled, this time a flash of teeth in it. Yet his eye remained cold as he turned, moving towards the line of whimpering mages. "Is anyone in your group a Templar though? Do you know the ways to properly put a mage down?" The nearest mage, a slim elf, shivered as the Templar passed him. Karras came to a stop, eyes taking in the sight of the glowering Anders with interest. "A staff? What an...interesting choice of weapon..." A chill crept down Garrett's spine at the words. "...you're...good with it?"

"You want me to demonstrate?" Anders replied, a false smile on his lips as his eyes narrowed in a challenge. "A little sparring?"

"Ha!" Karras' laugh was a dry explosion of air. "I think not, can't have you getting even more scarred..." That triggered a chuckle from his men, though Karras didn't seem to hear it, continuing down the line of bound mages at a leisured pace, making each shiver in turn. "And an elf? With a spear?" He stared at Merrill, teeth flashing in a grin as his eye coldly regarded her.

Merrill didn't say a word, eyes on the ground, knuckles white as she gripped the weapon. Instead Garrett spoke up. "She doesn't look like much, Ser, but she's good with it." He stretched as much as he could, forcing himself to sound annoyed. "Now are you done looking at my troops? We have prisoners to transport...with all due respect, Ser."

"Of course, of course!" Karras grinned at him with a nod...and then stopped, smile fading. "Although...you haven't answered my question, have these mages been neutralised...?"

Before Garrett could formulate a reply, gaze flicking to Anders and Merrill before he could help himself – which he felt Karras notice – Thrask stepped forward, putting himself between Merrill and Karras in an all too protective gesture. "Now hold on, Ser, these people have surrendered and are now under my protection, they'll be treated accordingly." In his eyes, there was righteous anger, making Garrett arch an eyebrow even as the redhead mage and Anders both shot the Templar a surprised look.

"As you say." Karras replied, smile replaced by a grim look, gaze moving from Garrett to Thrask, calculating. "Though some might say you're trying to protect these mages...? I've even heard you work with apostates at times." He shot Anders a glance...and Garrett tensed, grip tightening on his sword.

Before Garrett could intervene, Thrask's eyes shone, crying out his lie even before he spoke. "Of course not!"

Damn.

Again, Karras' smile appeared on his lips, gaze hard as every man and woman before the cave tensed, sensing where things were heading. I...I need to...I should... Garrett couldn't come up with any solution, anything he could say that could repair the damage of Thrask's blatant lie, that could stop Karras' hostility. Maker, no!

The Templar captain took a step back, then turned, moving towards his men...his smile cold. "A girl of ten gave me this scar..." Karras gestured at the massive burn over his face. "...so for safety's sake I'm guessing you won't mind if we..." He whirled about, eye flashing as his men took a step forward. "...smite them!"

It was like a gust of wind striking him. Unprepared, Garrett took a step back, confused...but not for long.

The line of bound mages cried out. Their hands tied behind their backs, they were unable to clutch at their heads as fresh blood poured from their noses and ears. Two simply fell to the ground, knocked cold, the others wailed, stumbling. One fell to his knees and doubled over, throwing up what seemed to be mostly water. A female elf also fell to her knees, eyes rolling back in her sockets.

Anders, suddenly aglow with blue energy, staggered back, then fell onto one knee, one hand clutching at his staff as the other cradled his head. Merrill also took a step back, but only needed to blink before she seemed okay, Thrask standing before her perhaps stopping whatever force had struck the others. From her nose though, a few drops of blood dripped...

"I knew it! Apostates!" Karras' shout, completely bereft of the previous friendliness, was a rough and victorious growl, the shout of a warrior, looking forward to a battle. "Kill them!"

The clearing exploded into battle.

Karras, sword drawn and swinging, cut the head off the kneeling elf mage in a fountain of blood, then swung down with his steel shield, the mark of Andraste's flaming sword on it becoming splattered with blood and vomit as it smashed into the skull of the mage that had thrown up. Then he took a step towards the kneeling Anders, bloodied sword thrusting...and getting battered aside by another sword...Thrask's sword. Karras looked up at the other Templar with narrowed eyes...and Thrask stared back in shock...then narrowed his eyes as well as he slid into his guard, shield up and sword levelled at his foe as he remained in front of the groaning Anders.

Two Templars rushed towards Merrill as Thrask left her position, one thrusting his sword deep into the chest of a moaning mage in front of the elf and bowling the man over. The other rushed at Merrill, a great two-handed axe raised for a killing blow. The elf levelled her spear though, a crackling bolt of lightning striking her foe square in the chest. Yet the man's torso didn't explode, nor did his breastplate melt and his flesh burn...all the powerful bolt left was a scorch-mark as the area around the impact glowed red...and the man charged on.

The bright bolt was blinding though, and Merrill screamed in terror as she desperately thrust her spear at the Templar that didn't even see the strike. The weapon too struck the man in the breastplate, slid up...and got caught between it and his helmet, punching through the chainmail around his throat by virtue of nothing but the blind man's own momentum. He fell, gurgling out his surprise even as his comrade pulled his sword free from the slain circle mage, growled in rage and advanced upon the pale elf as she whimpered and struggled to free her weapon from his comrade.

Isabela, true to form, rushed her chosen target before he could even draw his weapon. The slim Templar darted to the left though, swinging shield nearly knocking the pirate's dagger out of her hand as he drew a mace covered in ridges and sporting a single spike at the tip resembling the burning sword of Andraste. Isabela tried to keep the momentum up with a a thrown dagger as she drew another dagger and rushed forward. The Templar stepped to the right though, the dagger harmlessly bouncing off his shield while the thrust of his mace made Isabela turn her charge into a roll, ducking away with a curse as a sliver of blood appeared on her cheek.

Fenris...hesitated. Then, as a Templar advanced on him, he let loose a Tevinter curse and drew his sword while driving his foe back with a kick against his shield. The Templar quickly steadied himself again though, his posture crouched behind his shield as he steadily advanced, waiting until he'd blocked a blow with it before driving Fenris back with a lightning-quick thrust of his sword.

Ahead, the man with the scar across his face rushed at Garrett with his sword held high...and turned his body as Maric crashed into him. The giant of the man somehow brushed the great Mabari aside with the momentum of his charge, making the dog roll away before leaping at the Templar following him, a Templar crying out in surprise as the dog knocked his sword out of his hand and bit down on his hand, trying to find a chink in his armour for Maric's teeth. His shout turning into a growl, the Templar shook Maric aside, reached for the sword...and then ducked away from Maric's claws as he drew a long dagger from his back.

Garrett's vision filled with the giant coming at him, the man's sword held high as Garrett raised his shield to block the incoming blow. Okay, remember your sparring with Carver, you know how to face such a-

Pain!

The unnoticed kick struck Garrett's left knee, making him stumble back as his leg nearly buckled. Caught off balance, he barely managed to move his shield down to his left side as his foe turned the vertical slash into a horizontal one, the force of the blow making Garrett stumble back again.

By Andrastes'...! Garrett lunged, sword thrusting towards his foe's face...only to find his strike out of reach as the man deftly took a step back and to his left, sword barely missing Garrett's outstretched arm in a diagonal swing as the man turned to his left, trying to keep up with his foe.

The Templar stepped forward though, slash this time coming from above...a brutal blow meant to smash him down. Garrett moved to meet it, raising his shield...only for the great sword to miss his shield with an inch, coming under the shield and turning into a low thrust. Garrett twisted-

Pain!

Grunting, he staggered sideways, glancing down to find no blood flowing from his side, though it throbbed with pain as the chainmail at the point of impact shone with a silvery scar. Before him, the knight, face impassive, advanced without giving Garrett a moment to catch his breath. He feigned a thrust at Garrett's face before aiming it for his knee, though this was pushed towards the ground by Garrett's shield as he crouched low, then lunged forth, falchion swinging. This time, he reached his foe, blade rebounding off a turned breastplate before-

Pain!

Garrett and the knight both staggered back, the later with a gouge in his breastplate, the other nearly losing his sword as his foe's swing took him in the right shoulder with an upward slice. Again, the chainmail held, though only just, a pair of links splitting open.

Maker... Gasping for breath, Garrett inched backwards into the tree-line with his shield held in front of him, concealing his sword from his foe's frighteningly calm eyes as the knight inched after him with his sword held in a high guard.

Further off, Maric was lunging and retreating over and over, unable to get to his crouched foe as the now bloodied knife in his hand weaved a nearly lazy pattern in front of him. Fenris was doing something similar, shifting from thrust to slash, each blow meeting a shield or sword as the elf constantly danced left and right, eyes narrowed in concentration as he kept out of the reach of his perpetually advancing foe.

Merrill was crying out in fear as she tried to retreat, the vines suddenly coming out the ground grasping at her opponent's leg, only for him to cut them off and continue with nary a pause, shield held in front of him...before he cried out in anger and surprise as three circle mages jumped at him, their bonds turned to ash as their hands clawed and pulled at his armoured body.

Isabela, blood dripping from a cut along her left arm, was knocked onto her back by a swinging shield...and then kicked out, catching her foe's swing by the wrist and stopping his mace from turning her skull to pulp. Her other leg swept sideways, catching the inside of the Templar's knee and felling him onto his back...a moment later she had rolled atop him, their struggle turning frantic as her knives stabbed again and again, the blows either followed by the clang of steel striking steel or with the crunch of blades punching through flesh.

As for Karras and Thrask...the two were a blur of swords and shields as Karras pressed his foe hard, both the men breathing heavily as their armour dented under multiple blows as they jockeyed for the killing blow.

A grunt, and Garrett's opponent attacked again, his thrust rebounding off Garret's shield before Garrett advanced, only to gasp as the Templar too advanced, pressing into Garrett's shield and making the thrusting falchion miss its mark. Then the Templar gripped Garrett's shield with his left hand, stopping him from retreating as his right hand raised the greatsword high and then down at Garrett's neck-

Pain!

It was a poor angle for the blow, the sword striking from the centre of the blade rather than further out, and with only one hand...yet the cut was made with all of the knights' strength and all the momentum his sword was capable of, and made Garrett groan while stars danced before his eyes. There was no spurt of blood as the blade finally managed to cut through the chainmail – the cut having missed the artery in his neck – yet the pain left him gasping...and then the sword sliced down...

Pain!

Garrett staggered back, into the forest, dizzy as he felt as if he'd received a diagonal burn from the front of his neck down between his collarbone and throat before it went down to the top of his ribcage. That'll...leave a scar... Garrett shook his head, trying to clear his foggy mind and vision both.

He did so just in time to see his foe swinging, a brutal cut from left to right, enough to separate Garrett's head from his shoulders. Eyes wide, Garrett raised his shield...and fell onto his back as the dizziness turned his legs to jelly.

The swing passed far over his head and slammed into a tree.

A grunt...and the Templar's eyes widened as the sword refused to budge.

Garrett didn't think, didn't plan. Dizzy, he lurched to his feet, shield striking his foe over the head, making him let go of his sword as he took a step back...before crying out in agony as Garrett's falchion swung low, striking the inside of the left knee of the stunned knight, smashing through chainmail, bone and plate alike. Clutching as the stump of his leg, the knight fell onto his back, roaring in agony...before going silent as Garrett landed atop him, his second swing splitting the man's skull in two.

He looked up, swaying where he knelt, trying to make sense of the battle ahead.

The knight that had advanced on Merrill had cut down one of the Circle mages that had tried to mob him, his sword coming through the chest of a second...and then Isabela was there, dagger punching into his hip. Crying out, the Templar turned to swing at the pirate, only to groan as Merrill's spear caught him in the armpit, crackling energy running through the length of the weapon and into the man, making him howl as smoke began to rise within his armour.

Fenris swung from right to left at his foe, the blade bouncing off the man's shield and back upwards as the Templar advanced with a thrust...and struck nothing but air as Fenris nimbly stepped to his left and swung the blade down from left to right. It caught the Templar's right knee, driving him onto it with a cry of pain. With the swiftness of years of practice, Fenris moved to stand behind him and reversed his grip on his blade, smoothly driving its tip into the gap between the man's cuirass and helmet until nothing but the hilt remained, the rest of the blade having punched through lungs and intestines alike as the Templar went still where he knelt, blood pouring out from the air-holes of his helmet.

The Templar busy with Maric, now slowly driving the hound back, suddenly fell onto his stomach and was then rolled over, four mages crying out as they crawled over him, three pairs of thin hands gripping at his struggling arms and legs as a fourth ripped his helmet off. The redhead mage gripped the helmet with both hands as she raised it, growling something at the grizzled man looking up at her with wide eyes...and then slammed the helmet down into his face. The helmet rose again...and then came down, again and again smashing down, turning the man's face, then skull, into mush.

A gasp...and Karras staggered back, clutching at the stump that was his left arm as Thrask slowly lowered his bloodied weapon. Karras turned, eyes wide as he stared at the other, gaze sweeping over the Circle mages, lips moving in a whisper. "A-apostates..."

He fell onto his knees.

Then forward, face first into the dirt.

And Thrask stared at him in horror. "I...I..." He looked down at the sword in his hand. "...I killed a fellow Templar..."

"Well he was trying to kill innocents..." Merrill pointed out, drawing a snort from Fenris. "You have to do what's right...don't you? You'd feel worse if you hadn't done anything. Besides, I don't think he would have let you go, had you stayed neutral, you hired us, after all."

"I...yes." Thrask nodded, still staring at Karras' corpse, face pale.

Garrett eyed the elf with surprise, perhaps he should have expected such sentiment from her judging what she'd said before, and reasoning, given her scholarly inclinations...but it was hard to think of her as anything but a stupid elf and blood-mage. Yet she seemed to prove such assumptions wrong at every turn, and not even being aware of it. Naive, foolish, but not stupid...I better remember that, should she try and trick us. "It doesn't matter anyway, what's done is done." Groaning, he struggled to rise, his whole body aching, making him turn his head to their healer. "Anders, are you okay?"

The mage was still kneeling, but as Garrett spoke, he looked up, making most around him recoil. "I was struck by multiple smites, enough to nearly make my body break apart..." His face was awash with blood, his clothes too, every crack in his flesh bleeding. "...so no, I'm not okay." He spat blood in the direction of Karras. "Bloody Templars."

"You were saved by a Templar." Garrett pointed out, glowering at the mage under all that blood even as he clutched at his still burning wound, trying to control his urge to beg the mage to heal it on the spot. "Remember that."

Anders grimaced, then spat again, a conflicted look crossing his face before he looked away, saying nothing.

Instead Fenris grunted, looking around himself with a casualness that belied the seriousness of the situation. "What now? This will be known."

The redhead mage rose, shaking, body heaving with breaths. "We...we can't go back to the Circle, not now." She took a step back, dropping the bloodied helmet in her hand with a grimace of disgust and terror. "They'll kill us all, or turn us tranquil..."

"Agreed." Garrett grunted, wheels turning in his head as his gaze moved between the survivors, Thrask, and the dead...something he all too happily did to distract himself from the agony tingling from his chest and down his arm. Come on, Anders, get up... "None of you can...not even Thrask." They'll spot his lies a mile away. Garrett frowned...then glanced back to the mage that had surrendered to them before the others, still cowering in his corner, staring at the battle-scene with horror, vomit now adorning the front of his robes. "...except you." The man stared at Garrett in horror.

"Uh oh...you have a plan, don't you?" Isabela asked, amusement in her voice, a mutter following the question. "Who plans for stuff like this, anyway...?"

"I do." Garrett answered the second question, then forced himself to release his injury with his good arm and pull the mage to his feet. "And yes, I have a plan...you...you wanted to go back to the Circle, did you not?"

"Y-yes...?"

"Good, then you'll do so." Garrett turned to look at the others, mind trying to finish the story. "This man surrendered to us before we reached the cave, he begged us to retreat, warning us that the other mages had hired sellswords. Ser Karras, however, would not listen, and ordered the Templars, along with us, to continue." Garrett shot the corpse a glance. "We were ambushed at the mouth of this cave, where Ser Karras and his men were slaughtered and Ser Thrask captured by the apostates for torture, only a few of them died during this attack." Garrett shot the four dead mages a glance. "I lead my mercenaries in a retreat though, our kind are famous for choosing discretion as the better part of valour, after all." Garrett nodded to himself. "This mage will support the story and they'll be able to come here and see the dead themselves, slain in combat along with some of the mages that ambushed them."

"I...I can do that." The mage nodded, looking a little calmer as he sensed that he might be brought to safety. Of course, if they decide they don't like the story and try to torture him for...no, I'll report all this to Cullen, that man seems less suspicious, a moderate among his kind, he won't authorize such measures.

"And what of us...?" The redhead asked, a glimmer of hope in her eyes as the remaining four mages with her exchanged frightened and tired looks. "We can't...well as you said in the cave...we can't..."

"Ser Thrask will go with you." Garrett replied, making the eyes of mages and Templar alike open wide, though at the moment he didn't care about their doubts about such an arrangement. Maker, it's like I've been branded by a hot poker! "You can't survive on your own, and Thrask claims he wishes to help you..." Garrett turned to the Templar, now sporting a thoughtful look. "...don't you, Ser?"

"I...yes...I can do that." Thrask slowly nodded, then chuckled as he turned amused eyes to the redhead. "If they'll accept the help of a Templar, that is."

The woman stared back, conflicted...then shrugged. "Why not? I...well why not? You protected us...I...it'll be so strange..." A little laugh escaped her.

Good, mages out of the way, the poor liar out of the way, a man that can support our story and give us an alibi secured, a scene of battle supporting the story...it might just work. "Good, then it's settled. You might try your way east, Rivain is more tolerant of mages, I hear." Plus, it's far away from here.

"Agreed." Thrask said, sheathing his sword with a grunt. "We better leave right now, miss...?"

The redhead managed a pale smile. "Grace, Ser."

Thrask offered a polite smile back. "Grace"

Anders, slowly struggling to his feet with the help of Merrill and his staff, was looking at the mages and Templar with wonder, then to Garrett. "You really think that'll...work?"

"It's the best solution." Garrett firmly replied, not about to allow for more arguing. Or maybe he's referring to the cooperation in general? Doesn't matter. "Now, we should get a move on, leave everything as it is so they can find it like it is...we don't dare loot anything here." Carver would have loved that sword...oh well, next time.

With that, Garrett turned to the mage they'd bring back to Kirkwall. "Now, let me tell you exactly what you're going to say..." His face split into a grimace though, his resolve finally crumpling. "But first, Anders, some help..."

With that, he doubled over and retched.

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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for being swift as a deer.