Freedom Among Slaves: A Mage's beginning
Chapter Eleven: Repercussions
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, Bioware or EA.
Author's note: Sorry about the late update, I had writers block with this chapter. I saw the new trailer for Inquisition, it looks Epic! Can't wait 'till the 7th October! Oh, I should warn you I hint at Hawke being whipped by the Templars for helping Jowan, though I don't actually say it, it is fairly obvious. There's another poll on my profile, this time about pairings.
Hawke stared in horror as Jowan brought the knife down.
He was a blood mage.
Even Lily, the woman he did all of this for, shunned him.
"I don't know who you are, Blood Mage! Stay away from me!"
Hawke could only blink in shock, mouth attempting to form words that simply would not come. It didn't surprise her when he ran.
She vaguely heard Irving and Greagoir arguing.
"She did not know he was a Blood Mage!"
When Irving's pleas for leniency fell on deaf ears he changed tack; "Kill her and you martyr her. Give a lesser punishment and you may garner support."
"She's harrowed. We can't make her Tranquil."
"That is a worse fate than death and you know it!"
"You do realise what this means, don't you Irving?"
"I do. Maker preserve her."
Anders was quite happy with himself. His year of solitary confinement was up and another, better escape plan was forming in his head. This time he'd make it. This time he'd stay free.
Karl ran into him just as he rounded the corner.
"What's the rush?"
"Anders! Thank the Maker I found you! It's Hawke, you have to come quickly!"
"What? What happened to her?"
"There's no time! She needs healing. Now!"
Anders felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
He rushed over to Hawke's unconscious form. She was wearing her normal clothes rather than her mage robes. The back of her shirt had been cut away, revealing dozens of deep lash wounds that steadily oozed blood.
Senior Enchanter Leorah was frantically chain casting the basic healing spell that all circle mages were taught, trying to halt the bleeding.
"Move." Anders took her place beside Hawke and called upon the strongest spirit he knew. "Why wasn't Wynne here to heal her? Why wasn't I sent for earlier?" Anders snapped.
"Wynne was sent to Ostagar a week ago and the…the…" Senior Enchanter Leorah sobbed, "The Templars wouldn't send for you because they thought you would have tried to stop them."
Anders decided to ignore the fact that they would have been right.
That was strange. Something else was helping him repair the damage to Hawke's back. It felt like her mana, but on closer inspection it wasn't. Another spirit. Hawke had made some useful friends. It was probably the spirit she normally called upon for her spirit healing.
Anders had run himself ragged, and still Hawke was left with scars that no amount of healing magic could ever make fade.
He rested the tips of his fingers on one of the scars and leaned in to whisper:
"The Templars won't get away with this, Hawke."
Her eyes fluttered open.
Hawke looked at her mage gear, spread out on her bed.
It didn't seem right to cover the scars, like it had never happened.
She sat down and pulled the robes that the Dalish had given her what seemed like an age ago across her lap and got to work with a scissors needle and thread.
Anders saw what she was doing and offered suggestions, got her lyrium weave.
When Hawke was finished, the robes had become a rallying cry for the mages and an accusation aimed at the Templars.
Part of the tunic had been cut away, exposing most of the scars on her back. About three inches of the bottom of the seams at the sides that joined the front and back of the tunic had been cut and the image of a hawk sewn onto one of the corners at the front.
A leather strap now ran diagonally across her chest under her pauldrons to carry her staff using a loop at the back. A blue lyrium weave version of the Chantry symbol decorated the loop, giving off a slight glow.
A length of cloth bearing the symbol of the Kirkwall slave revolt hung from the leather strap where it rose to cross her left shoulder. A symbol of freedom.
Anders opened the door of the mess hall. They were late. Hawke had wanted to avoid the rush and Anders had insisted on walking with her to make sure no Templars harassed her.
The clattering that filled the room died down as Hawke entered. The news of Jowan's escape and Hawke's punishment had spread fast.
Anders felt a single bead of sweat run down his forehead. How would the Templars react?
They made it past the first set of tables without incident. Then the chanting started. A single word: Hawke.
Each repetition of the word was met with the mages hitting cutlery, mugs, whatever was at hand off the tables. A few slammed the end of their staves into the ground. Even a few Templars joined in.
Hawke…Hawke…Hawke…Hawke…
"Silence!" The Knight-Commander barked.
He was ignored.
Hawke found a free space beside Karl and sat down. Anders claimed the spot on her other side. The chanting continued, some of the mages nearby reaching toward Hawke, to pat her shoulder, shake her hand. The chanting grew in volume.
"SILENCE!" This time Greagoir stood and roared, his face a deep red.
The chanting stopped. Food was served.
Karl gave Hawke's shoulder a brief squeeze before he turned to his food.
Anders grasped her hand for a split second.
Hawke looked down at the note in he had left there.
I'm planning another escape, and you're coming with me this time.
Feeling Anders' gaze on her, Hawke nodded.