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Blood Promise	By : Hikari86 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4559 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything Dragon Age. I claim no ownership and make no money/profit.

Chapter List
- 28
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The Freedom Postulate

It was past sundown by the time they reached the Hanged Man. Jordan had found a buyer for the gold ring, and received a decent price for it, but it wasn't enough for what she needed to pay off the expedition. Instead, she decided to divide the profit amongst her friends, giving them each a share. With what she had left, she would save some for the expedition, and use the rest to get herself a drink without adding to Varric's tab.
Entering the tavern, Jordan came to a surprising sight, seeing both her sister and Anders sitting at a table. They were talking with two mugs next to them.
“When did you two start drinking together?” Jordan asked as she went to their table. “Or start drinking at all?”
“We're not drinking,” said Anders. “Or at least not ale. It's called water.” He held up the mug to show her. “It's actually quite good for you. You should try it some time.”
“Who comes to a tavern to drink water?” Isabela asked. “It doesn't make sense.”
“There's more you can put in your body than alcohol and other... fluids,” Anders said as he took a drink. “So where did you just come from?”
“The Wounded Coast,” Jordan said as she sat down next to him. “Ran into Thrask again. He wanted me to help him with a mage problem. Apparently the Circle in Strakhaven burned down and all the mages who didn't die escaped. The templars are trying to get them back, and a few of them were hiding in some caves off the coast. Thrask wanted me to convince the mages to surrender--”
“You didn't, did you?” Anders asked, looking concerned.
“Uh, let me finish. And no, I didn't convince them. I helped them escape. Hopefully they're long gone by now.”
“Yes... hopefully.” Anders looked down at the table.
For much of the night, the group of them sat together talking, drinking, and playing a few games of Wicked Grace and Diamondback. It wasn't until it was getting very late when Bethany asked Jordan if she was ready to go home yet.
Jordan sighed. “Alright, Bethie. If you're wanting to head home, then we can get moving.”
“I'll go with you,” said Anders as he stretched. “I need to be getting back to my clinic anyway.”
“Might as well go with you guys, too,” Aveline said as she stood. “Seneschal Bran said tomorrow was going to be a busy day for me, and I've been up too late already.”
“Let's get going, then,” said Jordan. “I'm sure Mother is waiting.”
“Not so fast, Jordan,” said Isabela as she stood in front of her best friend, keeping her from leaving the tavern.
“Yes?”
“Didn't you get a good price for that ring?”
“Maybe,” Jordan smirked, seeing where Isabela was going. “But it wasn't enough for what I needed.”
“You're the one that gave most of it away.”
“Yeah, but even if I kept it all, it still wouldn't have been enough.”
“Still... you owe me a kiss.” Isabela smiled sweetly at her.
“I guess I do.” Jordan grabbed Isabela's collar and pulled her to her lips. She gave the pirate a rough peck before letting her go.
“You call that a kiss?” Isabela said as she straightened her tunic.
“I call that a drunk-tired-I-want-to-go-home-and-sleep-for-a-thousand-years kiss.”
“Oh, Jordan,” Isabela sighed. “You are such a tease. You have no idea the carnage we could ensue.”
“Maybe later you can show me.”
“Don't worry, I plan on it.” Isabela gave Jordan her most sensual smile as she walked out the door.
The night was cold, hitting Jordan hard when she walked out of the warm tavern. It was unusual for the time of year, making her look up to the sky, seeing thick clouds blocking the stars. They moved slow, but there was nothing about them that told her they were full of rain.
“Let's get home, Bethie,” Jordan said as she shivered slightly. “It's cold tonight.”
“Yeah. I wonder why that is.” Bethany rubbed her exposed arms to keep herself warm.
“You two going to make it home okay?” Anders asked.
“Our uncle's house isn't far,” said Jordan. “We'll be fine.”
“Alright. I'll see you later, then.” Both he and Aveline waved good-bye to the Hawke sisters, going their separate ways before something caught all four of their attentions. Walking through the closed market area was a lone, cloaked figure. Normally this wouldn't be an unusual sight, but the robes the figure was wearing was what caught their attention. The figure was wearing Chantry priest robes.
“What's a Chantry priest doing all by themselves in Lowtown?” Aveline asked.
“What, priests can't come to Lowtown and preach to the poor?” said Jordan.
“Of course they come and do that.” Aveline rolled her eyes. “But they usually do that during the day and in the company of others. Usually a templar.”
“So what's this priest up to?” said Anders.
“Why don't we go and find out.” Jordan followed down the alley they had seen the priest go in, all the way between the buildings until they came to a more open area where they found the priest standing, her cloak down. She stood, looking around, not appearing to be afraid that she was all alone in a place known for its violence.
“Word is, you're the one looking for help and paying well.” A man appeared out of the shadows and walked straight toward her. “Is this true?”
The priest stared at the man with hard-set eyes, not at all fearful of him. “I need someone native to the dark places beneath Lowtown. If you claim as much, yes, I will pay.”
“Oh, I am,” he smiled. “Shall we discuss what you are offering?”
“We will discuss it only after you have performed your task.”
“Alright, but it would be nice to know how much I would be getting for my troubles.” The man placed his hand behind his back and pulled out a hidden knife. “After all, you did say it was a descent amount, right?”
“Is this man seriously thinking about robbing a priest of the Chantry?” Aveline asked, sickened.
“Let him,” said Anders. “She's the foolish one who came here all by herself.”
“Daft woman,” Jordan heaved. “Can you save someone so intent on being foolish?”
“No-”
“Yes-” Aveline glared over at Anders, then turned to Jordan. “We can't let this happen.”
Jordan sighed, knowing Aveline was right. “This better be worth it,” she muttered to herself. “Excuse me, but I don't think that's the task she's talking about,” Jordan said as she stepped out from the alley.
The man stumbled. “I don't know who you are, woman, but this does not concern you! This here reward is mine!”
“And what were you planning on doing? Take it from her now with that knife? Tsk, tsk. Robbing from a priest. Don't the criminals of this city have any morals?” Jordan walked right past him and bowed to the priest. “You don't want this man. He is incompetent.”
“And you are not?” she asked.
“I actually have morals, and won't steal what you offer just because I think you have something worth stealing. I know Lowtown, as well as Darktown, and the undercity. You won't find anyone better.” Jordan bowed deeper to her.
“Perhaps... Maybe you are what I'm looking for.”
“What? No!” the man cried. “I was here first, bitch!” He went to stab Jordan in the back with his knife, but Jordan turned fast and stuck Edge up through his lower jaw.
“Not anymore.” She pulled her blade out and let the man fall at her feet.
“Thank you,” the priest spoke. “I am out of my element.”
“Yes you are,” said Aveline as she, Anders, and Bethany came out of the alley to join Jordan. “Why are you here all by yourself?”
“I wouldn't say that.” She looked to the side and from an opposite shadow, walked out a templar, his sword and shield already in his hands. He eyed Jordan who stared back at him.
“Not so helpless, I see.”
“No, I would not come to such a place alone. I had to come here to get the type of person I need. Someone of bloody skill, but also integrity. Perhaps the kind who might leap to someone's defense.”
“One such as myself?” Jordan smiled. This night was starting to look better. “What is the task?”
“I have a charge who needs passage from the city, but I can't tell you much more out here. If you are willing and capable, meet me at my safehouse nearby. Right before the alienage.”
“Right, we'll meet you there.”
“I hope you will come. This matter only grows more urgent with time.” She nodded and went off down the alley, the templar following behind her.
“Okay... what was all that about?” said Bethany.
“Hopefully the rest of our ticket to the Deep Roads,” said Jordan. “I don't know how much she'll pay, but if that thug was willing to rob her, it's got to be a good amount.”
***
“I don't like this,” Anders muttered as they made their way through Lowtown to the alienage. “This does not seem right.”
“Why? Because she's a priest?” Jordan asked.
“Exactly. She's a Chantry priest, which means she has access to unlimited Chantry resources. Whatever, or whoever this charge is of hers that needs lead out of the city, I'm sure she could have easily found a way to do it without coming here. The Chantry would have kept quiet about it, I'm sure. They keep quiet about plenty of other things.”
“Maybe it's a lure,” Jordan teased him. “Maybe she knows who you are and is trying to capture you!”
Anders glared at her. “That's not funny.”
“It's not? Oh, sorry. I didn't realize I was talking to Justice.”
“You're talking to both of us,” Anders sighed. “I'm just the on that's in control right now.”
“Oh, I suppose so. You're not glowing at the moment. But Justice is sort of a stick-in-the-mud. Seems like something more he would say.” Jordan grinned at him. Anders rolled his eyes, but she could see the smile behind it. But with all her teasing, Jordan knew there was some truth to what Anders was saying. This was suspicious, a Chantry priest coming to Lowtown in the middle of the night, looking for someone to do a task for her that she could have easily found within the Chantry itself. Whatever Jordan was about ready to do, she knew it wasn't going to be legal. She looked over at Aveline, and knew the warrior was thinking the same thing.
“I'm with you no matter what, Jordan,” she said.
“Are you sure?” Jordan asked. “It could be something that if we're caught, you might lose your captain position.”
“It's something I've already thought of. And there have been many things I've done with you that could've lost me captain of the guard. Don't worry about me, I can take care of myself. You just worry about yourself and your sister.”
Jordan nodded. That was a given.
When they finally arrived at the little hovel where the priest had indicated was her hideout, Jordan slowly opened the door and made her way in. The hovel had a few candles burning for light. Jordan could see a long shadow on the floor. Following it, the shadow belonged to the templar from before. He stood in a ready stance, glaring at Jordan as she made her way in.
“Nice to see you, too,” she said. “Hope you haven't forgotten me already.”
The templar grunted, but said nothing more. He didn't move, didn't keep his hard eyes from looking anywhere except in her own.
“Easy, Varnell.” The priest walked out from a back room. She graciously nodded at Jordan and her companions. The templar finally began to relax. “Please, come in. Close the door.”
Aveline was the last one in. She did as the priest asked before making her way to Jordan's side. Both Anders and Bethany stayed behind them, and away from the templar, Varnell.
“I thank you for coming,” the priest continued. “This matter is delicate, and I need someone of... limited notoriety who will not link this to me. It is an escort, but I think you will agree, the nature of the party makes this... unique.”
“Just get to the point,” said Jordan. “What do I need to do? Who's going where?”
The priest nodded. “My name is Sister Petrice. I have assumed a burden of charity, and this is my charge.” A hand came out of her robes to gesture for someone to come forward. Out of the back room she had came from, stood a creature that caught Jordan off guard. She had been expecting a human, an elf, maybe a dwarf, but certainly not a Qunari. And definitely not a saarebas.
He was just as the other saarebas Jordan had seen. Gold colored, metal mask covering his face while wire, stitched into his lips kept him from opening his mouth fully. He wore the traditional leather garment of a Qunari, while also having a thick collar around his neck, sitting on his shoulders. His horns had been cut off, and his eyes, although hard to see behind the mask, appeared lifeless.
“Maker...” Aveline breathed.
“Would even a templar bind a mage like this?” Petrice said as she examined each of their reactions. “A survivor of infighting with their Tal-Vashoth outcasts. I call him 'Ketojan,' a bridge between worlds. The viscount, and others, feel that peace begins with appeasement. This mage would likely be returned to his brutal kin. He can serve a better purpose. I want him free. He must be guided from the city without alerting his people, or being seen in my care.”
“Why?” Jordan asked, not understanding. “What's the point of keeping him away from his own kind?”
“They would doom this poor creature. If he was brought back to the Qunari, they would only put him in shackles once more.”
“Okay, but why keep it a secret? Why can't you use the Chantry's resources?”
“Because they have not yet seen what I have seen,” Petrice said, shaking her head. “My order will soon realize the Qunari presence is more than a test of faith—it is an open challenge. But for now, I must act on my own. Helping this mage shows how Qunari heresy cannot be ignored. His flight is vital.”
Jordan had to wonder as she looked at Ketojan. He appeared to have no emotions, almost like a tranquil but not. He was Qunari, with a straight, expressionless face, seemingly unaffected by the conversation. He just stood where he was, waiting for some type of order or command. Would he even want freedom? Would he even know what to do with it?”
“Is freedom really what he wants?” Jordan said to Petrice. “A new life with that collar seems doubtful.”
The sister stared over at him. “And yet it is more than he has. My reach is limited. His struggle is his own.”
“It just seems like releasing a bird, cage and all.”
“We do what we can to step toward what is right. That must be enough.”
“I don't know...” Jordan continued to study the saarebas. “How exactly did you get a hold of him again?”
“He is a deserter,” Petrice explained. “One that was hunted mercilessly.”
“Tal'Vashoth, then.”
“Yes. Ser Varnell observed one of their bloody exchanges. This poor mage was the only survivor.”
“Poor mage,” Anders grumbled. “I'm sure she really believes that.”
Jordan glanced at him to stay quiet before she turned back to Sister Petrice. “So is that the reason why taking him to the Arishok won't work? Because he's Tal'Vashoth.”
“Would you give up one of your friend mages to the Circle?” Petrice asked. “It would be the same with Ketojan. I would not wish it, as neither would you.”
“I still don't know,” Jordan sighed. “Freedom in that collar... What about his abilities? Can he do anything? Perhaps help us, maybe?”
“I don't know his capabilities, or if he can function at all in that collar. But I think he knows we are his only way out.”
“You think?”
“He has followed every direction, and made no aggressive moves even when taunted. Were I in his place, I could have fled. Qunari or not, I can only assume he wants to be led to freedom.”
“Maybe that's all he knows, is to be led,” said Aveline. “To freedom. To anything.”
“And what if that's not what he wants?” asked Jordan. “Then I have to deal with it, right?”
“That is why I went to Lowtown,” said Petrice. “You are either capable of the discretion and skill that I need or you are not.”
Jordan nodded. A few things were making sense, but most of it still left her with uncertainty. “There is something... For such a task, why haven't you asked my name yet? Don't you want to know who you're hiring?”
The sister stared at her peculiar. “If you were important enough to know, I would need someone else. But if you insist: What is your family name?”
“Hawke.”
“Hawke... yes. I believe I might have actually heard it before. If you are the one I've heard about, then you should be perfect for the task.”
“Then I'll get him out of Kirkwall. He's a bit conspicuous for the streets, though.”
“Another reason why I needed a Lowtown thug. You can take him through the sewers that lead out to the Wounded Coast. I hope you know the way.”
“I do.”
“This mage will be a fine example of how cruel Qunari are, even to their own. But only if this plays out just so. There is a passage in that room that leads to the warrens of the undercity. It is dangerous, but that is why you were hired. Good luck.” She then moved aside, and allowed for Jordan to see into the room. In the corner was a trapdoor, already opened and waiting.
Nodding to the sister, Jordan then stepped into the room, the others following her. “Ketojan,” she said to the saarebas. “You will come with us.”
The Qunari mage stared down at her, then looked toward the trapdoor.
“Yes, that's right, down there.” Jordan went first and began making her way down the ladder. Following her was Bethany and Anders, Ketojan, then Aveline. When all of them were in the darkness of the sewers, the trapdoor shut.
“Are we really going to do this?” said Bethany as she lit the end of Honor to give them light. “Is there no way we might be able to remove that collar?”
“I'm sure that there is,” said Anders. “But I don't think it would be possible for us to do.”
“Why would you say that?” asked Jordan.
“Petrice might have already tried it. If not, I would rather not try it myself. I'm not very versed in Qunari technology.”
“I would rather you not try either. Hmm... wish Fenris was with us right now. He might actually prove helpful for once. Tell us a few things, such as whether or not Ketojan really wants to be freed or not. Or if we should take him to the Arishok.”
“We don't need the broody elf. Let's just get him through the sewers and to the coast.”
Their way through the sewers was slightly uneventful. Jordan didn't want to run into any thieves or thugs, not at this time of night, and not with the creature currently accompanying them. Ketojan kept up with them despite his bulk, and listened to everything Jordan told him. When to stop, when to go, to stay quiet and not make a sound. He wasn't making any sounds to begin with, but his movements were much more quieter than Jordan thought possible of a creature his size. The Qunari mage was larger than her, after all. In both height and girth.
As they got closer to the exit that would bring them to the Wounded Coast, and out of Kirkwall, Jordan realized they were going to be able to do this without incident. No one had challenged them. That all changed, though, when she turned the corner.
“Thought you wouldn't see me again, didn't you?” said the man who stood in front of a group of thugs. They were blocking the way forward, and Jordan frowned as she stared at their leader.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“Pff, don't play stupid. You were the one that kept me from teaching that templar a lesson!”
“Oh! Okay, now I remember. You're the group that was tormenting Emeric before I stepped in. Got it. So... what? Have you been following me or something?”
“You shouldn't have told me your name, bitch.” He got closer to her, eyes narrowed. “I know that name, and you don't have a lot of friends in the undercity. Sure I've been following ya. Had my boys track you down so I could get what you owe me. And not even your Qunari pet will save you.”
“My... pet?” Jordan looked up at Ketojan. “I wouldn't say that...”
“You some sort of Qunari lover? Maybe after I get rid of you I'll see who will pay the most for him.”
This caused Ketojan to make a noise. A growl of sorts, one that sounded angry.
Jordan was a little surprised.
“Uh, I don't know if that would be wise,” said one of the men behind the leader. “Selling a Qunari might not be--”
“Do you think I care?” the leader yelled. “All I really want is her dead!” In a quick flash, he pulled out a knife and charged at Jordan. In the same instant, even before Jordan could counter his attack, there was a bright pulse. It hit him, sending the man flying back and colliding with a few of the others. Jordan blinked as she saw this, feeling the vibration of magic in the air. It wasn't one she knew. Not Anders, not Bethany. That left only one other. She turned to Ketojan, seeing his hand stretched out, the sparkle of a magic aura about his fingertips.
“By the Void!” the leader shouted as he pushed himself from the ground. “Kill it! Kill them all!”
Ketojan growled louder and went forward. His whole body then began to grow hot, glowing a fiery red. Some of the men going after him, stopped dead in their tracks. Their swords having melted all the way down to the hilt. Grunting, Ketojan then sent from his hands two fireballs at the thugs. The ones that didn't get out of the way in time were incinerated.
Jordan stood fixed in place, staring dumbfounded at Ketojan as he attacked the thugs. She then had to move, ducking the swing from the leader who tried to take off her head. In an instant, she rounded him, slicing Ripper across his side. The leader yelled, and kicked backwards. His foot connected with Jordan's leg. She stumbled forward, but tucked into a roll. It brought her to the leader's front. When she came back up, Jordan drove Edge forward, sticking the blade in between his ribs. He grumbled, choked as he fell forward on her. Jordan twisted Edge before pulling it out and kicking him to the ground. Around her, she noticed most of the other thugs were dead, a few running from the scene. Ketojan stood in the middle of the area, still glowing bright and looking mincing.
“We need to stop him!” said Anders. “If we don't, he'll kill us all!”
“I'll see what I can do.” Jordan made her way over to him, but not without the others yelling at her to stay back. “Alright, Ketojan! Calm yourself! You killed them all.”
Ketojan turned sharply and stared at her. From her words, he seemed to calm, going back to a more relaxed stance while the fires surrounding him died. A small growl came from his throat.
“So what was that for? Did you react because your lead was threatened?”
A lower growl.
Jordan wasn't sure how to read that. Reading anything from Ketojan seemed like an impossibility. “Is there anyway you can speak to me besides with grunts and growls? Maybe gesturing, or stomping your foot twice for yes, or something?”
This time Ketojan grunted, his mouth slightly opening.
Jordan moaned. “This is ridiculous. There's got to be something! A phrase? An expression? Something that gets you to do anything besides make sounds?”
Another grunt.
“Of course. Didn't expect anything else. Might as well continue on. No use trying to make any sense out of your grumbles.”
A slightly higher growl as Ketojan did nothing but stare are her.
Jordan shook her head, becoming agitated. “Still clear as a bell. Great.”
***
When they reached the Wounded Coast, as they stepped out into the open, the sun was already rising. Jordan hadn't realized how much time had flown by. She knew both she and Bethany would be in a lot of trouble when they got home.
“You will hold, basra vashedan.” The voice caught Jordan off guard, not realizing there was a group of Qunari heading their way. In fact, the Qunari had been camped out right under the sewer entrance. “I am Arvaarad,” the lead Qunari spoke. “And I claim possession of Saarebas at your heel. The members of his karataam were killed by Tal-Vashoth, but their disposal leads only here, to Saarebas and you.”
“What are you talking about?” Jordan said as she stared up at him. The others by then had joined her out in the open. Ketojan stood next to her, his head hanging low.
“You speak as if ignorance is your natural condition,” said Arvaarad. “The bodies of his slain karataam could lead only here. I do not know how you come to hold his leash, but you have no claim in the Qun. He will be returned and this crime cleansed.”
“Wait, hang on, let me get this straight first.” Jordan scratched her head. “He belonged to a karataam who were killed by Tal'Vashoth? And you're here to claim him from me?”
“So it should be, basra. I will take him now.”
“What if he doesn't want to go back?”
Taking something from his belt that looked to be a rod, he pointed it at Ketojan. “Saarebas! Show that your will remains bound to the Qun.”
At his words, Ketojan knelt before him and growled.
“He has only followed you because he wants to be led. He is allowed no other purpose.”
“And because you have that rod thing, that makes you his leader?”
“My role is to hold the leash and hunt the gray ones who leave the Qun. Or bas who have not yet been enlightened.”
“Jordan, be careful,” whispered Aveline. “Something tells me this might have been a set up.”
“It does seem fishy, doesn't it?” Jordan whispered back to her. “The fact these Qunari just so happen to be right where we were to come out says a lot.”
“The trail of the slain karataam leads straight to here and to you,” said Arvaarad. “That is the reason why we are here.”
“Can you not see this is a set up as well?” Jordan said to him. “Do you not even care who it was that abused your dead?”
“No doubt they were cast from your shoulders as you or your partner thieves grew weak. It is a crime whose victims are beyond caring. It will be dealt with, but the greater threat is clear. It is my role to secure Saarebas. It is the role of another to purge the perversions of your kind.”
“Be careful how you threaten me. I've met with your Arishok. He would not want a potential ally challenged in this way.”
Arvaarad snorted. “Claiming to know the will of the Arishok with Saarebas in your care is maraas imekari, a child bleating without meaning. The Arishok knows what is to be done with Saarebas who lose their Arvaarad. There is no greater threat to their control.”
Shit, that didn't work. Jordan stared at the Qunari and the ones behind him, wishing more and more she had Fenris with her. He might have been able to talk some sense into them. Whatever was happening, she needed to deal with it quick. Otherwise things might get ugly. “Alright, you want Ketojan back, first tell me why you bound and abuse your mages. Why such a collar?”
Arvaarad gazed at her. The others behind him shifting uneasily. “Your kind do not understand fully. You do not collar your mages like they should be. The power that he has, that all Saarebas have, draws from chaos and demons. They can never be in control.”
“So you fear them?”
“Like so many others,” Anders grumbled.
“We leash Saarebas because they are dangerous and contagious. Not even your templars fully grasp that threat.”
“Not all mages are dangerous and contagious!” Jordan blurted without thinking. “My sister, Anders—to name a few—are harmless!” She gestured to the two of them.
“You waste your breath,” said Anders. “He'll never tolerate my kind.”
Arvaarad stared at both Anders and Bethany before he backed away slightly. “You... are Sarebas? Bas Saarebas? Vashedan! Nehraa sataa karasaam!” The other Qunari behind him pulled out their weapons just as he did. “You spewed your words at me, like a demon trying to poison my control! Like this mage, the Qun requires your death!” With a flick from the rod in his hands, Ketojan went down on all fours, groaning from the pain.
“No! We are no threat to you!” Jordan yelled, putting herself in between Arvaarad and Bethany. “Just take the damn Saraabas and leave!”
“No, this evil must be cleansed. No longer will she spout the words of demons!” He went forward, his longsword aimed to spear Bethany in the chest. Jordan collided with him, crossing Edge and Ripper together to stop his blade. She then pushed them forward, launching him and his blade backwards.
“You will not touch my sister!” she said pointing Edge at him. Her eyes hardening as she glared at him.
“You have been corrupted,” Arvaarad heaved. “How is it that you don't see their evil?”
“I guess I'm blind, if so, then so be it. Just know Qunari, I have fallen Tal'Vashoth, and I shall fell you if you proceed to threaten my sister and my friend.”
“Then so be it. I accept my fate, basra. But will you accept yours?” He ran at her, striking hard and fierce. Jordan blocked his attacks, her speed faster than his, but his strength nearly overwhelmed her. She wasn't sure why it felt different fighting him than it was when she fought the Tal'Vashoth. He was more disciplined. They all were as she got a quick glimpse of the battle.
Anders and Bethany had moved their way to higher ground on the rocks while the Qunari tried to get at them from below. They both were fighting, but Anders seemed to be fighting the hardest, doing the best he could to keep the Qunari from getting at Bethany. Aveline had been separated from the group, surrounded by Qunari, but appearing to be holding her own against the ashen-skinned giants. One with a spear threw it at her. She blocked it with her shield, then drove her sword into another's bare chest. A third Qunari came at her from the side, but Aveline was able to smack him in the head with her shield before slicing across his throat.
Jordan put her attention back on Arvaarad as he tried to cut across her chest. She blocked his attack with Ripper, spun to bring his sword down, then stabbed him in the leg with Edge. He growled, but his attacks only became more fierce as he fought against her. Jordan found herself mostly on the defense, blocking his heavy blows. Even though he only had the longsword, and she had two daggers, it seemed he might have had the better of her. Jordan needed to end the fight quick, before anything could happen.
It was too late when she heard Bethany scream.
Staring up at her sister, she saw Bethany fall to her knees holding her left arm which was bleeding. Next to her was a spear, the tip just as bloody as it laid on the ground. Jordan looked around. Anders was occupied with several Qunari who had lured him off the rocks and were pushing him to the edge of the cliff. Aveline had also been pushed further away, more towards the other side of the road. Then there was a Qunari, posed as he held up his spear, ready to threw it right at Bethany.
“No!” Jordan cried as she went under Arvaarad's swing. She plowed her away forward, slamming into the Qunari as hard as she could. He dropped the spear as they both fell and tumbled. Jordan then drove Edge right into his heart, twisting the blade before she jumped off his body. Immediately she had to dive as Arvaarad swung for her head. She rolled forward, going to his side and popping up to drive Ripper right into his shoulder. Arvaarad glared at her as he went to one knee. “This could have gone so much more peaceful,” she said to him. “But you just had to go and threaten my sister, didn't you?”
“Your love for the mages will be your undoing,” the Qunari spat.
“And your hatred was your undoing.” She then took Edge and sliced it across his throat.
With Arvaarad dead, and the other Qunari soon following him, Jordan quickly made her way over to Bethany, seeing the wound wasn't nearly as bad as she thought it had been.
“I'm fine, Jordan,” Bethany said as she tended to herself. “Thanks for looking out for me, though.”
“Of course. Like I would let any Qunari mage hater hurt you. Or you, Anders.”
“I'm just glad to see your sister's okay,” he said. “But we're still not done yet here. What are we going to do with him?” He gestured to Ketojan who was still on his hands and knees.
“Oh, oops.” Jordan went over to him. “Hey, are you all right? Need help?”
Ketojan only grunted as he pointed to the rod Arvaarad had been holding, which was now laying uselessly on the ground.
Jordan went to pick it up but wasn't sure what to do with it. Flicking it a few times, something then sparked from the end, and Ketojan was able to stand again.
“I am... unbound,” he spoke, nearly making Jordan jump.
“Holy shit, you do talk.”
He nodded to her. “Odd... wrong... this,” he said looking over the dead Qunari. “But you deserve honor. You are now Basvaarad, worthy of following. I thank your intent, even if it was... wrong. I know the will of Arvaarad. I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom... of the Qun.” He then began to walk toward the cliff's edge. Jordan followed after him.
“Wait, what does that mean?”
“I must do that which the Qun demands. I must... take my life.”
“Huh? Seriously, I fought Arvaarad just so you could go and kill yourself afterwards?”
“I commit to the most difficult choice: the truth of the Qun.”
“What a choice that is!” Jordan flung up her arms.
“It is what I have chosen. Arvaarad spoke the Qun, I must abide by it.”
“So you're saying you can't choose your own existence? That doesn't make any sense!”
“To you, no.” Ketojan stopped just short of the cliff. “It is the only choice. Asit tal-eb. It is to be.”
Jordan rounded on him, still trying to understand why he thought he needed to do this. “Isn't there anyway you can go back? Maybe I should take you to the Arishok.”
“No.”
“Or maybe we could go find some Tal'Vashoth you could join.”
“They are not my kind.”
Jordan sighed. She couldn't win. “So you were basically doomed from the start.”
“I was outside my karataam. I may be corrupted. I cannot know. How I return is my choice.”
“This is outrageous!” Anders blurted as he joined Jordan's side. “Of all the ridiculous, spineless, mind controlled, senseless piece of shit arguments I've ever heard!”
“What comfort has freedom brought you, mage?” Ketojan said to him. “You would have more if you submitted to the Qun.”
Anders gawked at him. “If I won't even submit to my own kind's chains, what makes you think I'll let anyone put a collar like that on me?”
“What if we took you back to Sister Petrice?” said Jordan. “She might be able to help you.”
Ketojan shook his head. “The sister was not honest.”
“Well there's a surprise,” Anders scuffed.
“I cannot say what she wanted, but it was certainty not of the Qun. And her guard smelled of death.”
The realization then came to Jordan. “It was her who set all this up.” She looked back at her friends. “His karataam may have really been killed by Tal'Vashoth, but it was Varnell who dragged the bodies, placing them so they would lead right to here. Petrice knew where we would emerge.”
“But why?” Aveline asked.
“I don't know.” Jordan looked back at Ketojan. There apparently wasn't anything she could do or say to change his mind. He was as stubborn as any Qunari. “Do what you must, then. I will not stop you.”
“You know of certainty and borders,” he nodded at her. “You are closer to the Qunari than you admit. Your role would change little if you accepted the Qun, Basvaarad. Remember this day.” Ketojan then backed away from her. Closing his eyes, he then began to glow like he had in the sewers. Only this time, the flames that had surrounded his body were now engulfing him. He fell to his knees, and Jordan could see he was at peace.
“Come on,” she gestured, taking Bethany by the shoulders and turning her away from the burning Qunari. “I suggest we get out of here and back to Sister Petrice. I would really love to know what the sod that was all about.”
“As would I,” said Aveline.
“There are definitely some questions I would like to ask the dear sister,” said Anders. “Hopefully when we get back, she wouldn't have already been gone.”
***
“Leave nothing,” Petrice said as she ordered Varnell to clean up everything around the hovel. “It must be clean with no ties.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jordan stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, making sure to block the only exit completely.
“It... Hawke.” The sister stared at her almost as if she was seeing a ghost. She quickly regained her composure. “It was Hawke, right? From the streets? You... took the Qunari from the city? Without incident?”
“You find that surprising, do you? Was I not suppose to return? Or was I suppose to run into a karataam of Qunari and get myself killed?”
Petrice stared at her. Varnell also keeping his eyes fixed on Jordan and the two mages standing behind her. “Whether you believe it or not,” said Petrice. “I wished you no harm.” This made Jordan laugh. “That might have been useful for someone, but still regrettable. A massacre of citizens protecting a slave might have forced the Chantry to doubt appeasement, to see the Qunari for the monsters they are. Perhaps finding the mage was a rushed opportunity. If such a plot existed, I see how it might be... disagreeable to you.”
“Disagreeable?” growled Anders.
Jordan held up her hand to silence him. “Do you even care about your 'Ketojan?' He actually chose to kill himself than to live free.”
Petrice didn't even falter. “I assumed he wanted to escape, just as I would. My pity is genuine, but they are not like us.”
“Will you stop with the bullshit! I know you're lying. So why all the games? I don't like it when people play with my life, or my friends' lives.”
“It's very simple,” Petrive half smiled. “If a member of the Chantry admitted instigation, I have no doubt it would result in more appeasement. But an accusation from a Lowtown thug... You are hardly that important. That's not an insult—it's why I chose you. Rest assured, excuses, real or imagined, are not for your benefit.”
None of what she was saying sat well with Jordan. She had basically been used. “I will remember this, Sister. Don't think you've made a friend here tonight.”
“As if you could really threaten me. I am a priest of the Chantry. Would you really risk your life, or that of your friends', just to seek revenge against me?”
“I'm not talking about killing you. That would be too easy.”
Petrice snorted. “Whatever your intent, I don't care. Just take your coin and go. Disappear back into Lowtown. Rest assured, I will not make the mistake of looking for help outside the faithful again. The stakes—eternity—are just too high.” She nodded at Varnell who tossed a purse to Jordan. Catching it, Jordan then let the two leave the hovel and disappear into the steadily busy morning crowd.
“Can we go home now, Jordan?” Bethany asked. “I would really like to go home.”
“Yeah, we're going home, Bethie. And when we get there, you go straight to bed. I'll deal with Mother. This night did not turn out how I wanted.”

Paraphrasing from Dragon Age 2
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