Broken Souls: Chapter 43

Chapter Forty Three

Garrett lurched over the rise and gasped in relief at the skyline he could see silhouetted against the setting sun. "Kirkwall," he called back over his shoulder, seeing the exhausted joy on his companions faces.

Varric was propped up against a tree trunk. "Good going Blondie," he said tiredly to Anders, who was face down in the grass nearby. "Maybe next time find us an exit that isn't in another country to the one we went in by."

From his place in the grass, Anders pointed at Varric but didn't lift his head; his voice was muffled as he said "North of Starkhaven is hardly the next country, and I didn't see you finding us a way out, Mister Stone Sense. Tell me again how well those arrows of yours worked against the Rock Wraith."

"Nobody likes a smart arse, Blondie."

"Ridiculous. I know you love me."  

Garrett came over and nudged Anders in the ribs with the toe of his boot. "Up, you. I don't care if it's Justice or Anders who walks home, but we're two hours away at most and I'm not leaving you here in the mud."

Anders' reply was muffled, but it sounded something like "He's still not talking to you, so don't push it."

"I didn't know Fade spirits could be petty and refuse to talk to their friends," Garrett said as he hefted his laden pack onto his back. The gold inside tinkled so prettily as he moved, but Maker it was heavy.

"I didn't know anyone could be foolish enough to call a demon a friend," Fenris muttered as he walked past and headed down the hill towards home.

Varric chuckled. "Oh, look what you've done, you two. I'd just gotten Broody to calm down and now you've set him off again.

The jokes dried up as they all forced themselves forward once again, grumbling about the weight of their packs and the distance still to travel. They entered through the eastern gate, all four of them pausing in wonder at the bustle around them as the city went about its daily business. After weeks alone, with just each other for company, it seemed like all the people in the world were drifting around them.

"Was it always this loud in Kirkwall?" Garrett said with a wry smile, dropping his pack at his feet as he winked at two young women passing by; they giggled and whispered to each other behind their hands as they hurried away.

"It's always loud once you get back from the Deep Roads," Anders said, elbowing him when he continued to gape after the girls. "Come on- what are we doing with the spoils?"

They decided on the Hanged Man, because out of the four of them Varric had the most secure lodgings. Anders noticed a city guard give them a funny look as they passed, but he figured it was simply due to the weeks of accumulated grime and the inevitable smell.

Varric's rooms showed minimal signs of interference from Isabela, which the dwarf took as heartening. They all slumped into chairs around the room, lolling about in dazed exhaustion for a good ten minutes before anyone made an attempt to move. Hawke was the first, upending his pack on the table and snickering gleefully as he watched the gold and bejewelled trinkets go rolling across the surface.

"Being rich is already more fun than I thought it would be," he said, flicking a precious stone towards Fenris. It bounced off his gauntlet and he glared at the offending gem, causing Hawke to cackle like a child. "What now? How do we turn this into wealth and power in the traditional sense? I mean, it's nice to look at, but I'm guessing I can't just walk up to the Viscount and declare myself important."

Varric chuckled. "It's a little more complicated than that, Hawke," he said, absently playing with a handful of golden coins that had rolled towards him. "I'll take this lovely pile of treasure off your hands, and I'll get it evaluated and in a week or two, it'll be nice, spendable Marcher gold. And then you can go nuts and do your best to become a bigwig up in Hightown."

"Why does he have to wear a wig?" Fenris said with some confusion. When Hawke laughed, his cheeks darkened and he looked away with a sneer. "My apologies for not being intricately aware of your ridiculously nuanced culture. I'll endeavour not to be a laughing stock in the future."

"Oh, cheer up Broody," Anders said teasingly. "Just think- now we're back in Kirkwall you can go back to filling Tahlie's head with terrible lies about me. That'll cheer you up, surely."

"So, how long until we know what our cut will be?" Hawke said, holding a goblet up to the light that for a crazy moment reminded Anders of the Joining Chalice the Wardens used. The Free Marches didn't have their own Warden outpost- did every Warden stronghold have a chalice like the one Ferelden did? He could feel the quiet hum of magic from the goblet- what were the chances that at some point in the distant past, there had been a Warden outpost in the area and their trinkets were lying scattered in the Deep Roads?

Or, on second thoughts, what were the chances that he was simply overly tired and was latching onto fairy tales just because he was bored? Much more likely, that one.

"Your cut, Hawke?" Varric chuckled. "Seeing as how I talked you into this whole mad endeavour, and seeing as my family seems to owe you a significant debt right about now, I'm willing to give up just about all of my cut just to see you and Sunshine happily settled and out of the slums."

"Fenris needs enough to pay for a house keeper," Anders said. "Last time we were there I couldn't help but notice that there were still dead things from when we thought the Magister was lurking in there."

"I don't see the need to get rid of them," the elf retorted. "It's not like I'm using that part of the house."

"And I now officially have a reason that isn't 'because I don't like him' when Tahlie asks why I don't like her spending time with you. That is disgusting."

"Oh, Maker, I thought you two had already said every petty little thing you could possibly have to say to one another," Hawke said, clapping his hands over his ears.

Varric laughed. "In answer to your question, Hawke, I can have an answer to you by the end of the week. Assuming it isn't already the end of the week… does anyone know what day it is yet?"

No one had thought to ask on their way through the city. Varric's mouth twisted unhappily as he rubbed a gold coin between his fingers. "Well, I might as well go and see if the Merchant Guild is receiving betrayed younger brothers. I have to go in at some point anyway and let them know what that arse I have the misfortune of being related to, got up to in the Deep Roads," he said, then sighed. "I suppose now this makes me the head of the family. The Ancestors would be horrified. That sounds like a good reason to throw an expensive party, right?"

"Anything is a reason for an expensive party by my reckoning," Anders said, fidgeting by the doorway as he tried to think of a polite way to tell them all he didn't want to see them again for several weeks. As marvellous a bonding experience as the Deep Roads had been, he was thoroughly over familiarised with all their quirks and annoying habits and now he needed a substantial break. Plus, his mind was already running rampant with every little thing he wanted to do to Tahlie; she'd had her weeks, just like he'd promised, and he was definitely going to listen to her for all of two minutes before he tackled her and told her how much he'd missed her and-

Movement caught his eye and he looked up from his musings. Aveline stood in the doorway, her eyes bleak as she swept her gaze over the room, finally landing on Hawke. "Hawke," she said tersely, "you need to come with me, now."

Garrett looked surprised, crossing the room towards her as he said "Aveline? What's wrong? How did you even know we were-"

"I've had long patrols keeping an eye out for you for the last week," she said, stepping into the room. She had a handful of soldiers at her back, and Anders had a moment's panic when he realised one of them was the one who had looked at them in surprise in the marketplace. Was this some kind of setup? "But that's not important. You need to come now."

"Whatever for? Aveline, what's wrong?"

Her expression darkened as she said "There's been an incident."

***

Andraste demanded that she serve man, never rule over him. All her life, she had believed in the sanctity of the words the beloved prophet spoke, and had sought to use her magic accordingly. Sometimes she wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have been with her own kind, so that her family wouldn't be forced into a life of constant secrecy and flight; now it seemed those days of wondering were behind her. If only it had happened in better circumstances than this.

Her family had fought to protect her for her whole life, and it somehow felt as if she had squandered their sacrifice. She thought of her father, the indomitable Malcolm Hawke and his tireless optimism and she bit back a sob. Malcolm had believed fiercely in giving all of his children a choice in everything they did; nowhere was that more evident than in the way he had raised Bethany- an apostate with an unyielding faith in the very prophet who called for her imprisonment. As she'd grown older, she had learned enough to question the way men interpreted the words of her beloved Andraste, and her father had encouraged that inquisition. Not many mages, particularly an apostate free of the hated Circle Towers, would actively seek out the teachings that declared them to be a blight on mankind. But Bethany found comfort in her faith and strength from the tales of a woman who followed the conviction in her heart even as it led her down dark roads from which there would be no return. Her father was always delighted to discuss her faith with her, encouraging her to find her own path to the Maker.

Above all else, he had wanted her to be free to question. Free to choose her own path, in a way that had been denied to him in his youth. Now she was trapped- taken by the very same city that had snatched away his freedom so many decades earlier. What would he say, if he were there at that moment? Would he be proud of her, knowing that she could have fled and saved herself, but chose to stay and defend those without the means to protect themselves?

She liked to think he would have been proud. It was what he would have done.

Bethany was doing her best to fold her clothes without weeping hysterically when she felt the surge of power at her back. Terrified that it was her Templar guards, trying to trip her up in some way so that she'd be easier to accuse of dark deeds, she spun to face the intrusion with a cry on her lips. Instead of a Templar, she saw a churning black cloud that quickly moulded into a female shape; as she watched, it twisted and writhed violently as if in pain, until finally the cloud burst outwards and Tahlie fell into the room, collapsing immediately onto her knees with a pained cry.

Even as Bethany dashed to her side, her knees gave out and she fell face down onto the floor; by the time Beth had reached her, her eyes had fallen shut and she was deeply unconscious. Rolling her onto her back, her hands fluttered helplessly over her as she took in the extent of the Tahlie's injuries. She was still dripping with blood, but now it was cold and sticky, and Bethany flinched back from her friend.     

"Miss Hawke?" There was a knock at the bedroom door. "Is there something wrong? Are you planning on being much longer?"

She panicked and ran to the door, ready to grab the handle should one or both of them attempt to enter. "Nothing is the matter!" she said, wondering whether they would notice if she wedged a chair under the lock. Had they felt the portal too? No, they couldn't have, else they would already have broken the door down to get to her. "I won't be much longer, I promise. It's just, um, my sister woke up. I'd like to say goodbye to her."

She didn't listen to his response; she could guess what it was in any case. Further admonitions to hurry up, stop wasting time, stop stalling… as if they thought her so stupid that she was hoping to escape her fate by simply taking her time to pack her bags.

Tahlie murmured something, sounding very much like a frightened child and Bethany turned back to her with her heart in her throat. She knew she should be terrified of her right then, but she knew without a shred of doubt that Tahlie herself would never hurt her. Whatever had happened in the undercity had been done with the best of intentions. The creature that had taken control of her was horrifying- but it wasn't Tahlie. Tahlie had offered herself up in an attempt to save her, she knew it with complete and utter certainty. It just hadn't worked out that well for any of them.

Her cheeks felt wet, and she realised she was crying after all. She bent beside Tahlie and started trying to drag her towards a bed and out of immediate view should the Templars intrude on her privacy. It helped that Tahlie was so slight of frame- her weight was almost manageable.

She heard the front door open, heard a new voice join the conversation- Cullen. Her stomach twisted as she hefted Tahlie's dead weight into the furthest bed from the door. It wasn't enough that he had to see her at her weakest point, her moment of disgrace. Now he had to see the squalor she lived in, and her shame sent her spirits a little lower.

"So he's handsome," she muttered angrily to herself, wiping tears from her face furiously. "Doesn't mean anything. He's still a Templar; he still looked at you like you were the worst kind of demon lurking in the darkest pits of the Fade. Don't get all twisted up over a pretty face, Beth. You know better than that."

Making sure the blankets were securely tucked around Tahlie so that she wouldn't be spotted immediately, she kissed her forehead, wincing at the copper taste of the gore; she stripped her bloodied garments hurriedly and changed into her single formal robe. Garrett had bought them for her as a joke some months ago, and their mother had not been amused in the slightest. So they had sat in the bottom of her chest until now.

Now seemed as good a time as any to look the part of a mage.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm her breaking heart, she stepped out into the main room with her meagre bag of belongings. She just had time to see Cullen's face, so coldly neutral but still easily capable of making her breath catch, before her mother was there, crying and hugging her and begging her to stay- as if the decision was somehow up to her. The Templars said nothing at their exchange and she felt wildly vulnerable, having strangers witness so intimate a moment. This goodbye should have been private, a time for mother and daughter to whisper quickly to each other, without an audience to judge them.

The door flew open and there he was- Garrett. Her brother, her hero and her protector for so many years now; by the look on his face, someone had already told him. Not that he couldn't work it out himself- there were three Templars in their home. What else could they possibly be here for? How had he appeared, as if by magic, when he was supposed to be away in the Deep Roads for many weeks more?

"What's going on?" Garrett said from between clenched teeth. Behind him there were other figures, the gleam of a guard's uniform catching the setting sun. Aveline stepped into the room behind him, but the others quickly darted away.

She rushed forward, tears already brimming in her eyes as she put her hand over his where he clenched the hilt of his sword. "Please don't do anything," she said quickly.

Cullen crossed his arms over his chest, coldly formal. "Mistress Bethany is being taken to the Circle of Magi in the Gallows," he said stiffly.

Garrett blurted out the first thing that came into his head. "Over my dead body!" he snarled, taking a step towards Cullen.

Bethany was suddenly standing between them, knowing instinctively everything he had tried to say with those few words and failed. "It's done, Garrett. Don't make things worse- I know that's what you're good at and all, but…" She tried to say it as if it were a joke, but trailed off on a sob. Garrett immediately threw his arms around her and pulled her into his embrace, refusing to believe what was happening, or that the fierce burning in his eyes was tears.

Maker be damned if he would give the Templars the satisfaction of blubbing like an infant in front of them.

"Consider yourselves fortunate," Cullen said coldly. "Her co-operation and her actions this afternoon defending civilians from a demon allows us to spare you the punishment for harbouring a dangerous apostate… this once."

Garrett felt his blood boiling in his veins. "Dangerous apostate?" he snapped; Bethany kept her arms around his waist, holding him in place when he would have lunged for the Templar Captain.

"Garrett!" Something in her voice caught his attention and he tore his murderous gaze away from Cullen. His eyes softened as he looked down at his little sister, struggling valiantly to be brave and dignified in such horrific circumstances. "Theresa needs your help if I'm not going to be here.  Please, can you do that for me?"

"Theresa?" Aveline murmured at the door, speaking for the first time and drawing Bethany's attention. She mouthed 'Get Anders' over Garrett's shoulder; the guardswoman nodded tersely and slipped back into the street.

"Theresa needs your help, Garrett," she repeated, willing him to understand what she couldn't say in front of their hostile audience. "She's been such a blessing to me while you were gone; she took care of me just like you did in the Gwaren Market."

Garrett stiffened, the movement almost imperceptible to anyone watching, but with her arms around him she felt it easily. In Gwaren, fleeing from the Blight, Bethany had nearly slipped up and had caught the attention of a Templar. Amidst the crush of refugees, and grieving over the death of Carver, she had only cast a spell to reinvigorate herself and her flagging spirits. A Templar had noticed and had cornered her away from her family, thinking to pry sexual favours from a desperate young apostate fleeing for her life.

Garrett had objected to his plan- and promptly killed him for it when he found her.

"Theresa… took care of you?" he said, almost incredulously.

"She did," Bethany said, then reached up to breath as quietly as she could "And it wasn't her fault. Don't blame her for what happened here, Garrett."

"Touching farewells aside, we cannot linger here any longer, Miss Hawke." Cullen again. Garrett wanted to smash his sneering face in until it was a bloody pulp.

Bethany obediently disentangled herself from Garrett, hesitating before kissing him quickly on the cheek. The Templars led her to the door and she glanced back at him once more, her chin quivering as she tried to smile for him.

Then she was gone.