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Leap chapter 7 - Can I use my own spike?
Title: Leap: chapter 7: "Can I use my own spike?"
Game: Dragon Age 2
Pairing: Mage f!Hawke/Anders
Rating: T for now, eventual M
Wordcount: 4000
Summary: "Watch for that moment...and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap." Malina has spent her life hiding from the Templars, but she's starting to realize fear can be just as much a prison as the Circle.
Chapter Summary: Making new friends at last

Being a smuggler wasn't as bad as Malina had feared. Sure, they were seen by everyone else in the crew as barely-literate "dog lords," especially when the others learned they had escaped Ferelden with an actual dog, but considering the rest saw themselves as Darktown trash it wasn't much more than a fine distinction.
She had what felt like a thousand questions to ask: what happened to the Amell estate being rather close to the top of the list. However, with Gamlen already out carousing by the time she woke most days it kept getting pushed back. The year passed quickly, due to her own exhaustion as much as anything else. Working all night, she and Carver slept most days away. One night they would be sneaking crates past the port authority, another night carrying mysterious bundles through the sewers below Darktown. She rarely had to use her magic to do more than intimidate or scare. Not to say the two were never called on to kill anyone… it was just less killing than either of them had initially expected. Fortunately, true to their word, the group protected her from the templars
However, as the year drew to a close both she and Carver found themselves anxious to be done.
"It isn't even that I hate it," Carver admitted late one night, or perhaps early one morning if the birds were any indication. "I just hate being forced into it."
"Yes," Malina agreed with a nod. "I'll always feel like that. They basically bought, when it comes down to it. And not just to get us into the city: she said something about Gamlen and her being even."
Carver winced. "So… what? We could have been done months ago but we're working off his debt, too?"
She nodded. "I think so. I asked Athenril once, she acted really funny about it."
"Well great," he said. "She'll be mad to have you leave, at least," he said after a moment. "I heard one of the guys saying she was bragging about how great you were." He paused. "What's his name, with the blue eyes. I thought you and him…"
Malina made a face. "Oh yes, it was a magical moment. I was drunk, he was drunk, and we fell off our stools together. One for the storybooks. Especially when he told me I wasn't bad 'for a mage.'"
"Ouch," Carver said. "Well I guess that explains that. He's been avoiding even me. Probably expects I'll jump in for some brotherly justice." He snorted at the idea.
"No…" Malina said. "It's probably because I set his hair on fire for that line."
Finally the last day came. "You know, you don't have to leave," Athenril said. "You're good, I don't have anyone else who comes close."
"I want to see what else is out there," Malina said, trying to be diplomatic. Part of her worried the 'what else' was 'nothing at all' and she didn't want to eliminate the chance to return. So, knowing they might be begging for work once more, she did her best to try and soften the blow. It wasn't working. "I've barely seen anything but Lowtown since we got to Kirkwall."
"You'll be back," was all her now-former boss said, and with that, they were smugglers no longer.
Of course, it turned out Malina was right: there was no work in Kirkwall. No work open to a couple Ferelden refugees, at least. Carver couldn't even get a job on the city guard, something they had been pinning more than a few hopes on. With Aveline on the force Malina had hoped she would put in a good word for Carver. She had even dropped several hints to her about it, commenting about how with a regular income they could move out of Gamlen's tiny hovel, and that she would be happy to do any healing or other magical work for the guards free of charge out of gratitude.
Finding out Aveline had, in fact, recommended the guards not hire Carver set Malina's teeth on edge. She had always suspected the woman thought she was better than the Hawkes, and that was all the confirmation she needed. "What will we do now?" he muttered as they walked through Hightown.
"We can always take up dancing for coppers?" she suggested, not having any more of an idea than he did. Every idea they came up with crashed down on them in one way or another. Work as mercenaries? Blacklisted for being smugglers. Work as a guard? Aveline had seen clear to preventing that. Malina could barely even make ten silver a week healing people on the sly, since most were too afraid to even ask.
They had just tried to get hired onto an expedition into the deep roads, figuring their experience fighting darkspawn might be a plus. Even that was shot down. "We need to think of something," Carver said, sounding frazzled. "Money can keep the Chantry at bay…"
"Relax," Malina laughed drily. "They are my templars. You'll be fine." She raised an eyebrow at him, throwing an earlier comment he had made back in her brother's face.
He shifted uncomfortably. "Did I sound that bad? Maker, we really need to move. I think I'm turning into Gamlen."
She shrugged. "It's all right. You'd be almost as screwed as me if they caught us."
"Maybe," Carver agreed. "I really can't say I like the idea of waking up in the Gallows."
Malina laughed at that, glancing around at the Hightown estates. "You and me both. Really, why would they name it that in the first place. The Gallows. No wonder mages want to avoid it with a name like that. They should have gone with… The Meadows. Or maybe The Seashore."
"Then they would get their pick of the really stupid mages?" Carver asked.
"If it keeps them busy and away from me, sure."
Before Carver could respond to that, his sister gave a shout. Speeding away from them was a scrawny teenager, her purse clutched in his fist. "Shit," she muttered. "So much for groceries."
Ready to give up and return home, admitting utter failure for the day, Malina turned back. She was just in time to spot a blonde dwarf aiming the largest crossbow she had ever seen. A bolt went flying past them, pinning the pickpocket to a wall.
Strutting, actually strutting, over to the man, the dwarf spoke briefly, too quietly for her to hear, took back the purse, and punched him in the face. "Here you go," he said, tossing it to her.
"I… thank you," Malina said, still too shocked someone had bothered to help them to even crack a joke.
"I happened to overhear you speaking with my brother," the man went on casually. "He wouldn't know a good idea if it performed a seven veil dance right before his eyes."
"And you would?"
"I am the smart brother," came the reply. "Varric Tethras, at your service. I may have a solution to your problem."
Exchanging a glance with her brother, Malina shrugged. A potential solution, even worthless, was more than they had now. "You're going on the expedition."
"Have to," he said. "If I let the head of our House go down into the Deep Roads alone I'll never hear the end of it. I think I know a way to get the two of you on that trip, if you're interested."
"Why would you help us?" He gestured to an alleyway. Malina followed. Once out of hearing from the rest of the midday pedestrians, the man talked about how the coterie had squeezed every competing group of smugglers out of Kirkwall, save Athenril's gang. That, for some reason, was being attributed to her.
"You mean us," Malina said, seeing Carver's face take on a scowl.
Varric shrugged. "His name is brought up a bit, but it's you everyone is talking about." So much for averting another fight later, she thought.
"So how do you plan to get him to hire us on to the expedition?"
The man laughed. "No, you misunderstood. We don't need more hirelings. We need another partner. Batrand's all but ripped his beard out trying to pay for this, and it just isn't happening. Fifty sovereign, with me to vouch for you, and he can't refuse."
"I… see," Malina said. "So… here's the problem. If we had fifty sovereign I wouldn't be so desperate to go into the Deep Roads."
He only laughed. "You need to think big. Stick with me and you'll have all the money you need before you know it."
"Oh?"
"I know everyone in this city worth knowing. I can get you work, or…"
Malina blinked in surprise. Did he just introduce a crossbow?
"Bianca?"
"Isn't she gorgeous?" he said brightly.
Carver elbowed her, tapping the side of his head. Malina could only shrug. It was the best option they'd had so far- really, the only option.
"Meet me at the Hanged Man later. It's in—"
"I know where it is," Malina said.
"Right," he said. "You must have gotten used to rough areas as a smuggler."
"Actually," Malina said, grinning, "we live around the corner from there."
The dwarf laughed at that. "Well, you won't have far to stumble home, then!"
Walking home, she glanced over at Carver. "What do you think?"
He made a face. "Even in a new country everyone only seems to care about you. Apparently once again I'm just Malina's baby brother." Sitting down on the steps to Gamlen's small house, he picked up a stone and tossed it at a wall. "Seems like I'll never get out of your shadow."
"Carver—"
He waved her off. "Don't Carver me, Malina. I've heard it all before. You can't help it, Mages will always stand out since they're rare, you never asked for this. I really don't want to hear all the reasons people remember you and forget me again."
"Actually," she cut in, "I was going to suggest we head over to the Hanged Man instead of having the same argument for the hundredth time." He stood up. "Really, though… with your personality I can't see why people don't remember you." She had long since given up on trying to smooth things over with him when this subject came up. Nothing short of throwing herself at his feet and begging forgiveness would calm him when he was on a tear… and maybe not even that.
Making a face, he stalked ahead towards the bar. Varric was clearly confident. He had been waiting for them downstairs and stood as they entered, welcoming the pair in. Showing them to his private suite on the second floor, he settled into a large chair and gestured for the Hawke siblings to join him. Glancing around, she was surprised at the luxury of the surroundings. While the lower levels were on par with any of the Lowtown taverns, this room appeared to have been moved in its entreaty from what must have been a very nice neighborhood in Orzammar.
"So, I was thinking," he said, leaning back. "We need a way into the deep roads."
"That would be the ideal way to start an expedition there," Malina said. "Almost mandatory, I would guess."
"Exactly," he said, laughing. "There are a lot of entrances, but not all are any good. Cave-ins block most of them, a few have already been plundered, some are still filled with darkspawn. Bartrand had one lined up, but it was a bust. Cave in. We were going to just pick one and try our luck, but I may have a better plan."
"Please don't suggest we try them out ourselves first," she said.
"Aw, you're no fun," he said, laughing. "No, I don't plan on having the three of us stomp down to the Deep Roads alone. I had my ear to the ground and got some interesting information. There's a Grey Warden in the city. Now… someone like that, they could get us into the Deep Roads."
"Why would he help us?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Varric countered. "We're not asking for anything but information. That won't cost him anything."
"Fair enough," Malina said. "Where is he?"
Varric shrugged. "Not a clue. But I think if we ask at the Ferelden import shop they might know."
Varric, Malina decided, was one of those people who made everything sound easy. Come up with fifty sovereign, ask a Grey Warden for his maps, talk to someone at the import shop. He left out little things. Things like everyone in the shop staring at them in suspicion, eyes dragging across Malina's Kirkwall-purchased armor from her days as a smuggler. Things like the woman behind the counter railing against them, worried they would call the templars on this man everyone referred to as 'the healer.'
"Oh," she said finally, realization dawning, "he's a mage." That explained why they were defending him. Her own father had remained safe from the local templars for years just because no one in town would turn in the one man who could cure their injuries.
"Of course he's a mage," she said, continuing her long speech about all of his good works. He was, apparently, helping the refugees for free. Malina couldn't claim to be surprised that they would protect him. No one else seemed to care about the Fereldans in Kirkwall. "You think I'd bother if it was some potion-peddling swindler?"
"Great," Carver muttered. "Another precious little mage-flower. I hope we don't offend his delicate sensibilities."
"Quiet," she hissed at him. "Look, I don't want to turn him in. Believe me, I'm the last person who would do that." Setting her hands on the counter, she looked down and raised an eyebrow. Faint white light surrounded Malina's fingertips. "Really, if you can promise me he has a nice eyes and a killer smile I'd be tempted to send the man a proposal."
The woman finally relaxed. "Oh, he's got the eyes. Never seen him smile, though… something tells me his life's been harder than most."
Not surprising, Malina thought. She didn't think there were many mages whose lives had been easy, after all.
"Look for the lantern in Darktown. If you need him, he'll be there."
Standing outside she glanced over at Varric. "What kind of shit is that? Look for the lantern in Darktown? Could it be more cryptic? Does it have to be when the moon is full? Should I sacrifice a bunny first?"
"It is a bit… dramatic, isn't it?" he mused. "I should write it down."
Malina gasped. "You're that Varric?"
He laughed warmly. "That's me. What, don't tell me you've read Hard in Hightown."
She giggled. "I have!" He didn't need to know the serialized guard drama often more full of sex scenes than actual guarding was the only reading material in Gamlen's house. Before the conversation could continue a small group accosted them, again with accusations of trying to bring the templars against this healer.
This has got to be the most well-protected apostate in Kirkwall, she thought to herself as Carver berated them for harassing fellow Fereldans.
"Well then," she said. "I suppose we should go stumble aimlessly through Darktown looking for a lantern. Who thinks we'll get mugged again before the day is out? I think we'll get mugged again."
It wasn't nearly as difficult as she had expected.
Malina had been in Darktown before. The sewer tunnels below Kirkwall had been well-used by smugglers for generations, and she was no different. The squalor never failed to bother her, though. Hearing accents like her own from all sides, with faces that could have come straight from Lothering glancing over suspiciously as she, Carver, and Varric cut their way through the crowd in their Free Marshes clothing, made her stomach twist up. Guilt for her complaints over Gamlen's small Lowtown house almost overwhelmed her; things could have been so much worse.
After perhaps half an hour of aimless wandering something began tugging at her senses. "This way," she said.
"You said that three times before and we've only ended up attacked by gangs in dead end alleys," Carver whined.
"Well, this gang must have a mage," she replied. Magic, powerful magic, was being cast not far away. "I can feel it."
Carver looked over at her in curiosity. She had never talked about the actual process of using magic or the experience of being a mage with him. His knowledge was limited to seeing what mages could do, and knowing they had to maintain an extreme level of secrecy for his father and sisters' safety. "You can feel it?"
"That's normal," she said. "I could tell when Father or Bethany cast a spell, too. I could even tell which one it was."
"And this?"
"It's definitely not either of them," she said. "They're strong, whoever it is."
Carver shrugged, following her without hesitation now that he understood why. "Makes sense. They say Grey Wardens only take the very best."
She continued to follow the sensation, taking them up and down stairs and around corners. How long can one mage cast? she wondered briefly, when the spells didn't seem to break off. Finally they did cease, with no lantern in sight, and Malina grumbled in annoyance. She had just been about to inform the others that their trail was cold when the magic began once more. "Ah, here we go," she said, pointing them through an alley.
"How bloody far is he," Carver groused. "You said he was close."
"I thought he was," she hissed. "I didn't know he was some kind of… freak." She half-expected to turn a corner and see three desire demons playing a hand of cards; the level of magic was that strong. How every templar within a hundred miles wasn't seeking him out like a bee to a flower she had no idea.
"Freak?" Varric said, sounding amused.
Malina sighed. "I just mean… he's very powerful. As far as we've gone… well, none of the mages I've ever known could be sensed from that far away."
"And just how many mages have you known?" he asked, eyebrow raised.
"Um… there's me… my sister… my father…" she said, "and, well, that's it. We don't exactly have monthly apostate meetings where we gossip over tea and cakes, you know."
He looked over at her in surprise. "Did you grow up on some remote farm? Even I've met more mages than that, and the Dwarven Merchant's Guild isn't exactly crawling with them."
"Our farm wasn't that remote," she laughed.
At last, she saw a garish paper lantern over a set of double doors. "There it is. I'll be damned, a lit lantern." Walking closer, she looked over her shoulder. "Although "left at the entrance, down the stairs, right into the alley, and go straight past the dead dog would have been much clearer directions."
"And if the dead dog had been moved?" Carver asked. Malina and Varric both responded with laughter.
Staring at the glowing paper globe, Malina made a face. "Where would he even get something like that? Importing paper lanterns from Nevarra, but living in a sewer? Makes no sense." Shrugging, she shoved the doors open.
Without a physical barrier it was obvious they had found the right place. Even if she couldn't see the man bent over a small child on a rough cot, the wave of magical energy pouring off him almost knocked her from her feet. She couldn't make out much of him past the boy's parents. A hint of light hair. A green sleeve. What looked to be, of all things, feathers.
She recognized two of the people standing with him; they had been in the import shop begging for help. Their child had been crushed by a mine cart. It sounded fatal. From where she stood, it looked fatal. But as they watched the small boy began to stir. His chest filled out as flattened bones rebuilt themselves and finally, with a loud gasp, he sat up.
Am I that weak? Malina thought, watching him achieve what should have been impossible; what would have been impossible for her. She had no idea. Perhaps all the mages in her family were weak; it was the only basis for comparison she had.
As the tearful mother embraced the child and led him away, the father clapped the healer on the back, nearly sending him tumbling to the floor in his exhaustion. Helping the mage steady himself, the two exchanged a few words before he left to rejoin his family.
Now that she could see the healer, at least from the side, Malina decided he wasn't dressed like any Fereldan she had ever known. While she couldn't speak for Grey Warden mages, the two Wardens who passed through Lothering had been wearing cheap looking splintmail and light leathers, not feathered pauldrons with yards of bandages wrapped around every appendage. He was standing still, hand braced against a pillar with his head hanging low. His entire posture spoke of exhaustion.
Carver cleared his throat. Malina resisted the urge to spin and hit him. She was far more nervous than she had expected and would have liked another moment to prepare herself. She had no idea how other apostates behaved, if he would welcome her because she was a mage or distrust her all the more because she knew he was one, too. And he was powerful… far more powerful than her. That was something she shouldn't forget. Any hope she might have had to come up with a nice way to interrupt him was destroyed by Carver's noise.
Magic flared around him, an unfamiliar spell, and he spun, grabbing a staff before facing them. Hand up in warning, the man narrowed his eyes.
Oh, doesn't that just figure, Malina thought, feeling herself blush as she openly stared. The woman in the import shop hadn't been kidding about his eyes: eyes that were currently narrowed in suspicion and loathing. If she had to guess his mood, Malina would say he looked tempted to turn them all into a smoking crater. "Stop!" he demanded. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation. Why do you threaten it?"
Carver snorted behind her. "Sanctum of healing and salvation? Is he bloody kidding? What bad theater did he climb out of?"
She had to admit, it was a little over the top. The fact that this clearly angry man viewed them as a threat was a greater concern to her at the moment, though. Reminding herself that Carver had no way to know how powerful he was, she held up both hands, making sure not to cast anything out of nervousness. "We're just here to talk."
Varric explained their goal, asking him for the maps. First, he accused them of being with the Grey Wardens, trying to take him back. Then, he smiled wisfuly about his cat the Wardens took away.
The woman at the import store had no idea what she was missing there.
"Will you help us?" Malina finally said.
"No."
She stared at him in surprise. He had turned, returning to his patients. "No?"
"No," he repeated. "The Deep Roads are no game. It's not some adventure you're planning here… people die there. Most people who go there die. I want nothing to do with it."
"I'll pay you!" she offered. She had a few coins and, judging by the surroundings, was better off than him.
He paused re-dressing a man's wounded arm. "Does it look like I'm here to make money?" The healer shoved a bandage at her. "Now make yourself useful or get out of my way." Storming past, he continued to the next patient. While he still looked tempted to kill them, now it would seem to be out of annoyance.
"Damnit, I need those maps!" she snapped as he continued to ignore her, moving to a counter at the back of the room to root through small bottles of potions. Fire began to crackle at her fingers.
He spun, almost growling. "Don't threaten me, little girl! You have no idea what I've done to get here, what I'm capable of!"
Jumping back, Malina winced at his expression, half-expecting to be hit with lightning at any moment. For a moment she could have sworn his eyes looked… blue. Rubbing her face, she glanced back nervously to see they had returned to the same soft shade of brown they were before. It was, she decided, the same color as the wheat on their farm had been. "Sorry, sorry," she squeaked, tempted to add 'please don't kill me.'
Folding his arms, he quirked an eyebrow up, a small smirk playing at the edge of his mouth. "And you planned to go into the Deep Roads?" With a chuckle, he returned to his patients.
"Not planned," Malina said, refusing to give up. "Plan. We're going, with or without your help. I know it's dangerous… but with your maps we stand a better chance. You could save lives!" She had to admit, the last bit was a rather low blow; she was hoping to appeal to someone who clearly spent most of his time doing nothing but saving lives.
He looked conflicted. Closing his eyes, the man turned his back on her for a moment, hand to his forehead. It sounded… briefly… like he was whispering to himself. "Fine," he finally said, still annoyed. "Maybe we can work something out. Favor for a favor?"
"Sounds fair."
"You don't even want to know what it is?" he asked. "I could be ready to ask you for the Knight Commander's head on a spike."
Considering that, she smiled. "Can I use my own spike? Or did you have one already picked out for her? I think it should be something pretty. Maybe blue, to bring out her eyes."
Almost-smiling again, he nodded. "Perhaps we have more in common than I thought. But no… maybe that can wait for another day." His face darkened and he pressed his hands to his mouth briefly. "I have… a friend."
So I have to think someone powered by an actual fade spirit will be much, much more powerful than your run of the mill mage... and anything contrary in the game is just mechanics. Knowing when someone is a mage, and how powerful they are, is actually cannon. Morrigan and Wynne say as much when they meet the hermit in the forest in Origins.
Slowly, slowly catching up on replying to reviews. Thanks so much to all of you! Even if I haven't said so individually yet, I will.
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