The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel.
--- x x ---
-- The Free Marches - Cumberland Anders: I saw a golden tower still standing tall, and some other smaller ones clustered close by as we got closer to Cumberland itself. This city looked far larger than Denerim, which was a new kind of problem for us. I couldn't tell if that was good or bad news for the mages living here. We hadn't heard anything different about us or Kirkwall from the very few travelers we met lately. Their news was no more detailed or believable than what we'd learned in Nug Falls.
While Nug Falls had seemed plain and utilitarian if not quite grimy, that matched Kirkwall. Many of the statues and art there were still remnants of Tevinter rule, and they were menacing even before they attacked us. Maybe Meredith somehow triggered some defense of the city, absurd since she would use that power against mages.
Ferelden was plainer, but it was a honest simplicity that had usually had better things to do than threaten inbound ships or remind everyone that slaves had no rights. Flowers and the occasional statue, not much else to be spared after the generations of fighting Orlais or rebuilding after the Blight. Maybe art and crafting would appear, but they were more stubborn in their self reliance than anything else.
I might have known Hawke was an immigrant from there just from that.
As soon as we came down through the gap out of the Planasene plateau into Nevarra, villages became more pleasant to look at. Even mile markers and sometimes fences had carvings or color. Small villages had at least a statue, and the decorations and craftmanship became more and more grand as we approached Cumberland. Clothing wasn't that much more decorated than in Kirkwall or Amaranthine, with bits of ribbon or embroidery on even the most workman of clothing, but craft was visible there too.
A few we passed who were going east said that something happened but didn't know or care about anything else than their daily affairs. They weren't afraid or angry at mages, just nearly indifferent in favor of their anger about forces from Orlais massing near their border. I'd settle. Dera found out that a force of Templars had ridden out of Cumberland in a rush weeks ago for Val Royeaux. No mages had been seen since then, nor Tranquils, which made my spirit angry.
That was all we heard before we reached Cumberland. Hawke was obsessively planning for our safety, watching around us with a fierce attention. We found two inns a distance outside the city wall, in a village that hoped being close to Cumberland would keep them safe, but I wasn't that worried. They were both shabby and somewhat ramshackle enough that I doubted Templars would even step inside.
I could barely make out part of the first inn's name, the image on the signboard looked like it was
Jester in a Coma. Once we saw inside, I refused our sleeping here in a common room, giving strangers the leisure to see us unguarded. I could feel rumbles of approval when we went to the other.
The Sage's Goblet had a touch of class with simple art above the bar, and even private rooms. Maker bless the elf, she requested a room of her own before we ordered enough of the roast pork to feed Ser Mew and Paws. I paid for an armload of the tallow lamps after a scant, hurried meal, while Hawke studied the other customers in vigilance.
Once in our room while she immediately set to repairing the lock and setting a snare. I hummed as I scattered lamps on wall shelves and other flat surfaces.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to scout. We will learn if this Circle needs help, I told Justice into a deep silence.
That wasn't quite approval I felt, but I would take it.
Aldera finished fussing at the door and checked the high and grimy window one more time before leaning back against the wall with her eyes closed.
Quickly, before I could chicken out, I stepped over and leaned into her for a kiss, pressing her against the wall. A tension I'd held for weeks ebbed, from weeks of infrequent touches and chaste nighttime embraces. My kisses started hopefully enough, that she was still my Dera and not just my Champion, but then I couldn't stop. I didn't want to, as Hawke's arms were pulling me closer too as our breathing grew labored.
I had to pull back just a little to breathe, and was satisfied at how dazed her eyes looked. “Dera,” I rasped, unsure what I meant, plea, declaration, or demand.
Her eyes focusing on me, to my relief she grinned and said, “Anders.”
“I... want to thank you again, before we approach the tower here. You don't have to fight for the mages, and I don't know what we'll find in Cumberland or how Justice will react,” I said while rubbing her arms and looking down. “I don't want you to...”
Cupping and lifting my chin, Hawke looked me in the eyes to emphasize what she said, “I want you
both to listen to me, and remember this well. I'm not going anywhere without you, and together we have more skills for this fight. You can't push me away again, so you're stuck with a partner you can trust who can't be affected by mana disruption.”
I had to smile then, and felt a glowing from within that almost made me feel jubilant.
Her face brightened too and leaning up, she kissed me long and sweet, adding, “And you should stop apologizing. Everything but the explosion itself is long forgiven, the rest will depend more on you not going off on your own again.”
“I can... we can do that,” I said between kisses and feeling giddy.
Her hands sliding under my armor to tease at my skin almost soon as I reached her flesh, Hawke laughed and said, “I thought this was what we'd be doing as soon as the door shut.”
“We'll have to make up for lost time then,” I murmured as I lit the lamps with a wave and just looked at my Champion for a moment. She bit her lip as she considered my new armor. Unbuckling my armor, such as it was, soon she ran her fingers through my chest hair. I finally got the last of her heavier armor up over her head.
I traced over her larger scars lightly because they always gave me a twinge. What if she'd died at Ostagar? What if the Arishok had killed her, despite all my spells? What if she'd turned away, any of the many times she should have? What if I only dreamed this?
But she shivered at my touch and pulled me closer for another kiss, her green eyes black now and fingernails scratching my back. I wanted to smile, but hunger was winning and kissing by her shining earring became a bite. Our attempts to divest each other of our armor as quickly as possible were
never really very fast as I know I was so very distractable.
It was too bad she didn't wear robes, they were so much easier.
-- x --
In the morning I wasn't very happy to eat the barley porridge offered. We left the inn, and many were traveling toward the city, chattering about food prices and the doubtful rumor of a dragon in the Western Approach. Following among the others to enter the city seemed a good idea, and I used my spear as if for balance, staying a little ahead so Hawke and Merrill could watch me over discreetly.
Looking ahead of me, the Nevarran towers for their mages soared in the distance, supposedly gilded by Tylus, hero of the fourth Blight. I had my doubts that anyone who'd fought an archdemon would think that was a good idea. Most Ferelden Wardens were relentlessly pragmatic. Maybe it was the Orlesians and their love of uniforms.
Whatever had happened in the last few weeks, these towers looked intact and there was no talk in fear or vengeance. Did the mages here rise up like I hoped? No traveler mentioned anything and I was afraid we'd failed. Was all that blood on our hands futile, did I give up so much for nothing?
We discovered there was an open peasants' market outside the city walls, as large as any in Kirkwall had been. I slowed, as I knew Hawke had wanted snares and rope she hadn't seen since Kirkwall. I was looking around me more than at Hawke while she made her purchase, when I heard a voice call like starting a conversation.
“Ah, what a lovely flower of the Dalish, with leafy green eyes fit for a mossy spring. How many hearts are you the Keeper of? May I add one more?” spoke a lean and dark brunette who sounded like she was from Antiva.
Merrill sputtered when the woman caressed her buttocks, and I wanted to smile.
With a slight smirk the woman added in an edgier voice, “Perhaps you should have become a Keeper as Marethari desired?”
Hawke started turning, but Paws growled a warning bark before launching at a different man behind Hawke, who had daggers poised and about to strike.
Spinning, I looked for and found other attackers with their weapons out. I struck with my spear as Justice advised me.
I wasn't used to that, he usually approved, disapproved, or seized control to blast with magic when he got angry enough. I'd almost forgotten that he used a great sword when we met, after trying out other weapons the Warden had in the armory.
“Heysal, a grenade!” Hawke called as she knocked several down.
Wanting so badly to lay some of them out with a cone of cold, one of the tarry grenades would help slow them and satisfy my now angry spirit a little. Using grenades was still new to me, and a splash from the one I threw hit me too. I was slower than a soldier anyway so I had this as an excuse now.
It was a frenzy of stabbing with the end and blocking with my staff. I wanted so much to cast spells, but obeyed Justice's suggestion to sweep the barbed head of the spear point to make space for myself.
I wanted to look around and check on Hawke and Ser Mew, but I had to concentrate so much to even defend myself like this. I heard Hawke cry in pain, but couldn't see her with the two attacking me, even if I was holding my own.
Let me, mage, came quietly.
Worried that something had happened to Hawke, I wavered.
Let me, the Champion is a useful tool and the assassins came for us, came in a thundering rumble.
Don't reveal us! I warned as the spirit came forward more.
I was still present, hearing the comments of the spirit as he did most of the fighting. This was like when we fought Aldrik when he lent me strength and speed, but I was still free to observe while he fought. His understanding of weapon fighting made my lesser strength more effective, as he swung the tip like a scythe to rip through the throat of one attacker.
Turning my attention to the edges of what we could see and hear, I caught a glimpse of Paws hamstringing one of Merrill's attackers. I fancied I could hear Ser Mew hissing too. The elf was sending a stone fist at another one, but they'd already identified her by name. It looked like the non-combatants had fled or were hiding.
Hawke was dagger-fighting the woman who'd accosted Merrill, in a mutual maze of evasion. They were bloodied, but Hawke still looked fine, thank the Maker.
Something jarred my shoulders and I looked at what we were fighting. He was a bigger man, with a sword like Aveline's and all we were doing was defending against his sword and shield. I was getting worried as Merrill was still busy, but we couldn't stop blocking long enough to attack.
Paws leaped at him, striking him a little off balance even as the mabari was knocked aside by his shield. We swung and pushed the spear into the thug's stomach with all our weight. Paws ripped his throat out as we looked for another enemy and I regained control.
I had trouble pulling the spear out, but then went to help Merrill. Hawke's fight was moving too fast for me to help without my spells. Clubbing the last one attacking Merrill, I hit him several more times while he was stunned and then finished him with a grim smile.
Turning back to her fight, I saw that Hawke was bloody now, and Merrill sent another stone fist making the bitch from Antiva stumble. Hawke sent a dagger into her throat, and stumbled herself from a cut she'd gotten as she did.
Rushing over, I checked her injuries, hoping they were minor enough we could delay magical healing. I saw residue that she'd been poisoned, but she seemed fine now.
Merrill watched over us, wiping off Paws with a rag.
Aldera smiled weakly and whispered, “Are you okay?”
Puzzled, I paused in applying her bandages and said, “I am fine.” I realized that was a little terse, and added with a smile, “I don't know how long it will take to get this tar off my armor. Now, drink this.”
Making a face, she did. I checked on Paws and he had some shallow cuts. He also made a face when I tilted a potion for him to slurp. I wondered if Merrill would too if she was still injured.
Ser Mew was peeved when I let him out for a quick cuddle. He did not want back in the basket, so I slipped him up onto my shoulder, hoping Hawke would let it slide. He found the short braids in my hair fascinating.
As we'd bandaged, the rest of the market slowly came back to life. Merchants of the ruined stands started wailing and complaining about the damages. Some glared at us, but we weren't accosted. When we were done, Hawke finished paying for her purchase and took the cord from the startled merchant.
Subdued, we cleaned off at the elaborately carved marble public horse trough I'd spotted, I didn't think horses would care. Being wet was much better than bloody if we didn't want attention. With me walking ahead of them a little and carrying Ser Mew in my arm, Hawke and Merrill were arm in arm as we entered Cumberland without further incident.
I still remembered hearing about the wondrous Golden Tower of the mages in Cumberland when I was only a young boy in their prison. I was already heartbroken that my parents didn't really care, not like Hawke's had. I waited for months for a letter or anything, crying many tears into the pillow that had been shoved into the bag with extra clothing. I imagined I could smell my mother in it for years, until some ass pissed on it for spite. I cleaned that out eventually, and when the smell of urine was gone, I still could smell the herbs my mother used with her linens. Not that I wanted to think through to the rational conclusion about cleaning the fabric, I'd rather have the scent. I remembered so little about my parents' farm anymore. I remembered the winds blowing from the bleak plains, giving us our first warning of rain, or snow, or spring. I remembered hiding from my small chores up in the loft where these winds could reach me from far away places, but not the rain. I remembered dimly hearing before I slept or when we had visitors tales of the Gray Wardens and their battles against the darkspawn and dragons, riding griffins into battle. Weisshaupt was closer to me then. I remembered feeling free and without anyone who hated me, as far as my eyes could see. At the last and at the most, I remembered fear and hatred there I could not understand, I could never understand. My mother had been so devout a believer in Andraste, so she believed I was cursed and had as good as helped destroy the Golden City in the Fade, so lifelong penitence while locked away was only right for her son. My father just plain hated me because I now had magic. That hatred became somehow easier to accept over the years, but both hurt. I think I loved Leandra because she was so worried about Bethany before we left for the Deep Roads, and she'd acted on her fears. I caught the looks her daughters traded. They'd had enough run-ins with Templars that Leandra didn't know about. Still I was embarrassed for Hawke having to turn down Leandra's pleas in public, and neither of her daughters spoke much for a day or two of the expedition. My parents never did write. Later as an adult, I wondered if they ever knew what tower I'd been shipped to. Kinloch hold was almost as far from my homeland as it could be. Even later as a Gray Warden, I wondered if they'd survived the sporadic darkspawn raids that never ended in the Anderfels. I'd never know and their son died when the Templars hauled him away, kicking and screaming. I was Anders now. Hawke's Anders now. Several of these Cumberland towers were golden, with a metal sheen that went beyond mere paint. Graceful jewel-like bridges between the golden towers soared well above street level like necklaces. Statues dotted alcoves in the towers, and I wondered who they'd been, to be honored in texture and shining detail. Seeing it, I could feel my jaw drop at the amount of gold needed, even with magical assistance for thin plating.
Hawke guided us to a less modest inn than last night for lunch. It was nearly empty this early, and she asked the serving wench about what they offered. I was simply enjoying one of the rare ales I was permitted, when I realized this really was a less modest tavern and getting less modest by the moment.
The wench had a skirt that somehow dropped in the back when she bent over to mop the table. That was unexpected enough that I choked on my drink. She smirked at me when she turned to leave, and I shook my head the tiniest bit, though I was biting my cheek to keep from grinning.
I was far less surprised when a male server brought our meal and sidled close to Hawke and Merrill and displayed his wares. They were very nice wares and I had to laugh when they noticed. As they couldn't speak for a few minutes, I flirted a little before sending him on his way, mentioning again we were looking for work.
“They might know more about work and the true state of the city, if we got one alone,” I told Hawke seriously, barely keeping a grin off my face. Maybe this was a little return for those visits to the
Rose after we first met where she stayed later and sent me home to my clinic.
Disapproving rumbling came now as then. I stopped smiling at the reminder, as I remembered our many disagreements in those days.
A touch against my arm and I looked up to see that Hawke was standing up. She said carefully with a half-smile, “No work for me in here. Maybe you want to apply, Heysal?”
“You couldn't afford me if I did, Brana,” I said with a leer as I stood. To the Void with caution right now, I stepped over to bend her over for some hungry kisses. “But I'd be willing to barter...”
Others in the tavern were laughing at us, and Hawke flushed charmingly. We got a few offers as we left from some of the few customers and the one server. I laughed my way out, even if that got me a smack on my shoulder when we stepped outside.
Moving through the city, we couldn't avoid getting closer to the golden towers. I listened and watched with all my attention. Even the spirit was quiet as I sifted through all those speaking around me, for the tones of alarm and anger. Hawke would pause, seeking information but I didn't listen for that.
I hunted Templars.
There was another Warden or more in the city, but it was only a vague ache unless someone tainted was closer to me, so I dismissed it.
To my surprise, we passed directly into the cleared plaza of one of the golden towers and I looked up. There must be stone somewhere under the gleaming, glazed, and burnished tiles that seemed to transform into pure gold, ever so gradually as they rose above the ground.
“You must be from elsewhere,” a man spoke behind me in a cold, flat voice.
Convinced he was a Tranquil I spun around, feeling Hawke grab my arm as I did.
A merchant was lounging behind a sparse table of goods. He had fair hair and was missing a finger as he gestured to his table with a dark grin. “If you're here to get potions for the wars from the mages, you're much too late...”
Aldera gripped my elbow tightly and asked cheerfully, “Potions we can use, why are we late?”
I relaxed a little, he was bitter, not Tranquil.
“The battle has moved on already, we don't need any mercs now. Between 'em, the less useless of the nobles in the Van Markhans and the Pentaghasts got off their asses and acted to keep the peace.”
“Whoever won?” Merrill asked in her usual tones of wonder.
The merchant only grinned at us and stayed silent.
I looked around and realized there should be far more merchants to sell and buy in this square. The Golden Tower was known for its wealth, even more than for the shining towers.
“What kind of potions do you sell here?” Hawke asked with a sigh.
“Quality elfroot potions, and elixirs to revive your man's little warrior from the finest dwarven harvest in their dark thaigs,” he admitted in a leering singsong.
Hawke took out our spending purse, and visibly counted out coins. She bought several of the potions, and prodded, “Tell us more, Uncle Molty.”
“More money's flowing for working in Orlais or at Andoral's Reach on the border. I wouldn't suggest saying you're bound for to Orlais here, even if they have a deeper pocket. Not that I'd think a dog-lord would want to work for Orlais,” he said as he threw coins into a pouch without looking at them.
Hawke grinned and said confidingly, “Powder and perfume make my dog sneeze all over them. That makes for a very pissed employer and no pay to get home.”
Laughing at that, he admitted, “One of the Pentaghast commanders has reinforced the border. He's probably hiring, if you can get to Andoral's Reach. The Orlesians wanted to use our mage towers as an excuse to take back our lands, sending an army of soldiers and Templars over the border. You Fereldans are used to their shit, and the crown is paying well.”
Hawke looked tempted, but I asked, “What about potions?”
“Only simple ones, messere,” he said with a cheeky grin. “The towers are closed up like drums, as if they're under siege. Paranoid buggers.”
“Can Templars make potions?” Hawke asked. “I need the stronger potions until we can join a larger company.”
“Maybe they can, I wouldn't put it beyond the Pentaghast,” the snide man said slowly, drawing it out. “She lived up to her family legend and put down a dragon that came out of the Vimmarks. She even calmed down the mages after they expelled the Orlesian Templars with only a little prejudice, from what they claimed after they were outside.”
I felt my jaw drop, even as the rumbling inside me was triumphant.
Squeezing my elbow again, Hawke asked with fear, “Mages are free, what's to stop them from destroying Cumberland too?” She looked around the area like she was afraid waves of mages would drop down from the sky.
I widened my eyes, only partly as she was funny and laughing would give her away.
“Nevarran mages are good followers of the Chant. The best from the other towers come here to learn,” he said with pride, to my surprise. “The Seeker sealed the tower with her own seal, and even if any Orlesians make it this far, they cannot open her seal.”
Merrill asked with some worry, “Will they have enough food?”
“Plenty, since they only have a few sisters they trust. We'll run out of potions months before they even get hungry...” The merchant looked bitter for a moment.
Hawke pulled out one of the new potions and gave it to him. “Thanks for the tips, this is yours. The border sounds promising if we can get there before it's over. Can we get there by Imperial Highway?” She spent some more time learning the fastest road went through Orlais, and the next best path.
I didn't care about that and tried to spot any signs of life in the towers above us. They had no Templars but stayed in there without Templar oversight. I wasn't sure if they were being trusted somehow or so cowed they weren't a threat. I saw some movement high up in windows, curtains fluttering. There might have also been messenger birds being set free from the one window.
No Templars ruling them or abusing them now, nor likely from the sound of it. For the short term that was as much freedom as I could hope for. I should have realized other rivalries could also be a factor in earning our freedom. Orlesians and the Divine pissed off Ferelden and Nevarra. Would there be more divines than just white and black soon, or would the Divine accept the loss of worldly power?
I looked at Hawke, we needed privacy to make plans. She was getting a simple map to the Blasted Hills through Nevarra. I was getting uneasy, with how long we'd been standing here. We left the merchant as soon as she finished. A party on horseback wearing black Chantry armor swept past us as we made our way to the docks. Despite their comments about Templars leaving the city, none along the street seemed to react. We had to leave quickly.
Mid-afternoon we reached the docks and Hawke sought the Harbormaster. This one was busier and uncaring, he only gestured us to assistants who provided the contacts for ships bound to other ports on the Waking Sea. I was paying attention more to the docks than the ship or officer. More of those in the docks might have seen us clearly in Kirkwall.
After what seemed to be hours of meetings with many ships' officers and further guarded negotiations, we'd gained spacious accommodations on the bilge deck on an unfriendly fishing and smuggler ship. The shipmaster of the
Reccon was hard to understand, his enunciation might have been due to lost teeth. He liked our money, but didn't really like having passengers or animals. Rare for most ships, he didn't mind Merrill. I thought that sealed the deal as far as Hawke was concerned. I didn't even get a good look at the ship in the late evening, but she stank of her cargo.
We were supposed to stay in our damp and stuffy space as long as any other ship or land was in sight. Pumping out the fetid bilge was necessary if we wanted to stay out of it. Even the first day, we could tell that being above decks was going to be very rare. I settled on the swash plate to play with Ser Mew once we'd pumped and I carefully dried the space a little. Both Hawke and Paws were having more trouble being locked in, trying to pace in the tiny space.
Hawke's restlessness was only helped a little when she had enough light to later study the chant or write in her journal. The journal helped more. I went through my letters and notes and thought Hawke might be more interested in them tomorrow. She might need those contacts if I got killed.
After dark, we were allowed out on the deck, and Hawke browbeat the young officer into letting her climb the mast and rigging. I was worried, but she didn't slip... much. Merrill spoke with one of the elven sailors, but they were curt and cold, far more than I'd seen an elf act. Aside from Fenris.
That night as we tried not to breathe in the fumes of our makeshift privy, I asked Hawke in a whisper, “Did you see that Seeker?”
“I guess, what marks one aside from armor?” she said, sounding tired.
“Templars fear their visits,” I said with a grin.
Hawke chuckled. “Well, if you'd told me that years ago, I would have studied their armor to copy it. I wonder if a squad of them would have shut up Meredith?”
That was an image to warm my soul, but still we quietly spoke about what we'd seen in Nevarra. As much as I would like to take the fight to the Divine and Knight-General, that would have to wait. I hoped more would fight, and that too many had revolted for a March to be called on all of them.
I caught Hawke falling asleep as I spoke and started telling her the proper ways to prepare elfroot for potions, to see if she was paying attention while I ran my fingers through her hair. She wasn't and soon enough was truly sleeping. It was too dark for me to watch her sleep, so I settled to sleep, content.
The third day since we boarded and we were practically shoved down into the hidden cabin when a ship was spotted near the ruins of the Imperial bridge. Our hiding hole was blacker than night and still stank, but we were told to be quiet when the hatch slammed shut.
Dera was in my arms to console me as we waited.
We could dimly hear loud voices getting excited and then the ship shook with some kind of impact. Soon there was more impacts and I could hear screams from injuries, and feel souls going into the Fade suddenly.
I was getting jittery because I couldn't fight or heal, and the rumblings within were becoming roars. Lacing my fingers through her hair, I held Ser Mew in my other hand.
Breathing a curse, Hawke caressed my cheek before she rolled over to the hatch. Another curse and she worked on the latch even as the hull shook every so often, and the deck threatened to tilt under us violently.
Risking a very pale light, I could see when one of her tools broke off into the door. Scanning the hole, she started pulling out all of her tools seeking something, but only rubbed her forehead, looking worried. Putting them away again, she began carving slivers off the jamb, but the wood must have been very hard by the thinness of the shavings.
The sounds of combat slowed, until there were fewer and fewer still fighting.
I was having more and more trouble keeping Justice down, but what combat spells I had, might drown us or choke us to death from smoke before breaking us free.
Merrill looked calm even as I thought she was mouthing prayers to the gods of her people. Paws moved over by Hawke, ready to spring as soon as the hatch opened.
By then, the only sounds above were strange and grim voices, and the moans of the injured. Those grew fewer as I felt more go into the Fade, and a silence fell.
My stomach sank when I recognized the next sound, the sound of fire igniting something large, like sails...
--- x ---
A/N: Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.
