Kirkwall… The city of chains. Not the most pleasant name for the place to live – but unlike many others relics of the Tevinter Imperium this particular slaving port earned its name honestly! And not only for being "home" to the countless slaves few centuries back, no – but for being one now! In all Thedas except for the remnants of the Imperium there was no slavery – yet people seem to forgotten about one thing: freedom is the nature birth-right of any living creature!
Mages – the men and women, the elves and humans, the old and young, kids even – all were imprisoned and enslaved only for being different! It was horrible and unfair, it was inhuman and disgusting, and yet it was allowed and even lawful!
The every mage outside the Gallows was an apostate – no matter what he was, dangerous or not, there were only two ways for them – the Circle or the death… or another option even worse – tranquility! A horrible mockery of life, the mere existence with no feelings, no life wish, no soul…
And all that was legal here… Ironically enough that exactly here, in the City of Chains, the place where Mages were imprisoned and abused more of all the seeds of rebellion gave their roots!
Young Dalish moved forward through the empty night streets accompanied by the five Templars, her wrists were tied with heavy irons before her, the cuffs were magic-proof, so she could not free herself – not without being killed by the powerful runes… Yet another irony – mages were made tranquil and forced to create the chains for their own kind – dreadful and distasteful!
Merrill`s left wrist was cut and bleeding – showing she didn`t surrender peacefully... The dark-red blood was sliding down her palm through the cuffs and falling with large drops on the ground.
"Move, you sharp-eared whore!" One of the Templars pushed Merrill so she barely held the balance, the armored fist dived right between her shoulders, the hit was very painful and she sobbed of that… What an irony, truly – the blood mage was afraid of pain… But the irony was even greater if it came to the way she was discovered! … This was one large night of ironies it seems!
"Please stop beating me!" She tried to reason them, her large green eyes were full of tears as she spoke, "I`m not dangerous for you…"
One of the guards merely laughed at her.
"Look who`s talking! The foul heretical witch is afraid of pain?" He roughly grasped Merrill`s short hair and turned her to him, the girls screamed of pain and clenched to his armored gauntlet, trying to make him easy the grasp, "Your kind is unnatural foul scourge on our land! The demon semen!"
Merrill looked in his eyes as her fingers slipped the cold metal glove and hissed:
"You are worse than animals! They at least do not kill their own simply for being different!"
"Why you…!" The guard weaved his hand to smite her, but one of his fellows stopped him.
"Enough! Let her go!" The Templar who cared the torch held him by the forearm, "Beating defenseless woman no matter what is unworthy!"
The grasp eased and Merrill managed to break free, it all was so humiliating! The Templar looked at his gauntlet with disgust as it was all coater with blood.
"Filthy witch! You defiled my holy armor with your foul blood!"
Merrill bit the lower lip feeling her wounded arm aching and running cold.
"I`m bleeding, please stop that!" She begged, looking on the torch-carrier, he seemed the most compassionate person here, "It hurts, please bandage the wound…"
The Templar thought a bit and downed the torch, looking on her wounded wrist, then nodded and gave another Chantry Soldier the sign. They stopped and one of Templars, the woman, took out the medical kit and not very carefully banded her arm – it was clear helping the apostate wasn`t the most pleasant thing for her. Merrill sobbed a few times, but as the knot was tightened the blood stopped and she felt a little better.
"Thank you…"
The Templar woman simply sniffed in response, it was clear she dispised herself after doing such dirty work.
It was already midnight when they came to the central square heading to the Gallows, the Alienage was very far from the centre of the city.
"What will you do to me?" The Dalish asked, looking down.
"Considering your resistance – nothing good!" One of the other Templars reminded of his existence.
Merrill closed her face with palms and wept, feeling her soul being torn apart.
"I… I don`t want to die!" She said sobbing, the salty tears fell on her wounded wrist making the pain even worse, "I have a family: a husband and a baby…"
She looked on the "kind" Templar again, begging with her eyes.
"Please let me go… I swear I`ll never use magic again, at all! ... I don`t want to die!"
"Hah, old song! I`ve heard much more touching stories, wench!" The rude Templar laughed loudly, "If it was up to me I`d forbid you mutants breed at all!"
"But what of my child!" Merril looked at him, "He is innocent! He didn`t do anything bad, why are you doing that? Will you kill us both? You have no heart!"
A desperate attempt, but of course it didn`t help… But Merrill didn`t even realize how truthfull her last words would be – literally!
He next second the torch in the hands of the Templar to her left suddenly went dead, covering the entire party with creepy cold night blanket. Before the carrier even had the chance to reach for the flint, his armor received the a few more ventilation holes… Three sharp determined strikes pierced the back-plate, chainmail, leather, skin and flesh with equal ease. The soldier didn`t even had the chance to gasp, as the next second his throat filled with his own blood.
With loud clash sound he fell on the cold stone ground of the square. Other Templars barely understood anything before another one of them received cobra`s kiss – as sharp dual "fangs" pierced his neck right in the small gap between armor and helmet, it was a jeweler`s work – dreadful, bloody, ruthless – but art!
The Templar coughed and grasped his throat, like trying to hold the hot fountains of blood running through his fingers. It was a horrible agony, the slow death and tournament beyond understanding – to feel your life literally flowing out of the body… After a few long as eternity seconds of this torture the Templar fell on his knees, his empty glass eyes rolled back and the lifeless body clashed on the rough cold stone with one last breath.
The female Templar drew her sword and turned to where she remembered Merrill was standing: one didn`t need to be genius to understand this attack was aimed to free the captive. But barely she made a two steps towards young elf she felt how strong arms grasped her from behind: the mestrious assassin waved his hands under her armpits and sharply wrung her arms up. The woman gasped with pain, but the next second she saw how black gloved hands grasped her helmet, closing the eyes gap with frightening darkness.
The last thing she felt was sharp pain and foul crunch of neck vertebras when assassin scragged her.
Merrill didn`t actually see anything, but one by one her capturers fell on the ground – one by one – like some invisible scythe mowed them… She fell on her knees and covered her head, afraid to move, screams of dead or dying Templars were so horrible, so terribly vivid – like she saw the picture or even felt the pain and agony herself. She accidently felt something under her left knee, it was that torch and it still glowed – barely, but glowed.
"Brasingr!" Whispered Merrill, clenching her teeth of sharp pain waving through her body from the cuffs, but the fire came back to life, illuminating the horrible scene with warm amber light. The young Dalish took the torch and turned to the place where she heard the last move – only to witness masked figure in the black killing the last of her capturers…
Assassin attacked the Templar from behind and pierced his right side – exactly the place where liver was, then arched poor howling man like the rack and nailed to the ground with his second dagger. The final strike pierced the heart – just as Merrill predicted! The blinding reflexes and deadly prescision - those two never betrayed one particular individual.
Young Dalish looked on that figure both with relief and with worry – as she saw his heavy intense breath. She rushed to her rescuer and his tight embrace was like heaven for her!
"Merrill!" Jason threw off the hood and kissed his wife, his sweaty face flashed in the dim light of the torch, "My dear! Ohh…"
He watched her closely checking for the wounds, but fortunately there were none.
"You are safe!" He took the lockpick and with no effort opened the stubborn cuffs, letting them fall off her gentle wrists… He then took the torch and nailed it to the ground, letting hospitable darkness hide their presence once again, "We must get out of here, fast!"
He took her hand and run, Merrill couldn`t see in the darkness like Jason, but she trusted him – she was running knowing he won`t allow her even to stumble!
***
"Tell me what happened, Merrill!" Said Hawke sitting in front of his young wife and bandaging her wounded hands – in addition to that maim she did to herself to fight in the first place she had burns on the places where cuffs were – that`s how the anti-magic runes reacted on her fire spell…
The Dalish looked down and sighed, but not of physical pain – much more of another one…, internal! They were sitting on the bed in their sleeping room, the door was closed – so no one could hear her…
"You sure they won`t find out, Ma`Venan?"
Jason simply waved this off.
"Everyone who saw you are now dead, and there are many gangs and other filth in Kirkwall, especially in the night, who`d dare to supect the Champion? ... So what happened?"
"I was betrayed, Ma`Venan…" She raised her large eyes and looked on her husband, "But please promise me you won`t be killing that person! Swear to me!"
Jason`s eyes narrowed for a second