Eleanor slowly woke, dragging herself from the darkness of sleep. She opened her eyes the barest slit and peered out from beneath the cover of her lashes to see what was around her. A fire burned brightly in the center of the tent where she lay resting on a coarse blanket-covered pallet. Cold air and snow seeped in under the walls of the tent; despite the fire and its warmth she felt chilled to the bone.

There was a shuffle of movement from the other side of the fire. Eleanor moved only her mostly-closed eyes. She barely breathed. Across the small tent crouched the woman who had attacked Cullen and killed the other two Grey Wardens in her tent outside Ostagar.

The woman sat back on her haunches and leaned forward so her forearms and hands dangled almost to the floor between her knees. Despite the cold she was nearly naked, wearing only a loincloth and a strip of fabric binding her breasts. Her body looked sinuous and as oily as if it was high summer and she had done a day's hard labor in the sun. The muscles in her arms bunched under her skin as she clenched and unclenched her fists. Other than her hands, she did not move and stared steadily into the flames.

Kellan. That was her name.

Eleanor dared to raise her eyelids a fraction more. She saw the woman's body had been painted with dark red lines that radiated downward on her arms from her shoulders and on her thighs and shins. Two thick lines had been smeared on her face straight down from her eyes. It looked as if she had been crying tears of blood. Her dark hair straggled down from the nape of her neck and stuck to her face and back.

"I know you are awake."

The woman didn't appear to have spoken and did not even look over. She still stared into the fire. It was then that Eleanor realized that she could not move. A great heaviness pressed her limbs down on the thin pallet. She gasped weakly as an effort to move her head sent a stab of pain down her neck and shoulders.

"Where?" croaked Eleanor. Her lips and throat felt parched.

Kellan did not answer, but reached slowly forward and pulled a small stone pot from the edge of the fire. She removed the lid and sniffed the contents, then poured a small amount of a thick liquid into a bowl. She rose, walked stiffly over to where Eleanor lay, and knelt again beside her.

"Drink." She pushed the bowl under Eleanor's nose. The thick steam rising from the cup smelled strongly of pungent herbs. When she did not immediately comply, Kellan sighed and said, "It will not harm you, silly thing. It's tea."

Eleanor reluctantly parted her lips and allowed the liquid to be poured into her mouth. She swallowed and immediately heat spread from her stomach. A distant tingling started in her hands and feet.

"You should regain feeling in a few minutes now. You were unconscious for a long time and the Fade does not release its guests easily sometimes." Kellan stood again and reached for a robe that was hanging nearby. She belted the garment quickly but did not stop to wipe the oil or markings from her body.

"Where?" Eleanor asked again. Her voice was slightly stronger this time.

Kellan paused in buttoning the neck of her robe and looked down at her, the firelight throwing strange shadows over the planes of her face. Her eyes glittered from beneath her lowered lids.

"We are far to the south of the fortress," she said. "We have passed almost to the southern edge of the wild lands. Soon we will go below ground, beneath the snows."

"Why?"

"That will be revealed in time."

"You killed the other Wardens." Flatly, an accusation.

"Yes."

"Did you kill Cullen too?" Memories were starting to come back, Cullen's screams of pain as she fell into darkness the first among them.

"No. He returned to the fortress before we departed."

"He would never have left me. What did you do to him?" The tingling sensation had increased. This combined with a growing feeling of dread and concern for the taciturn Grey Warden made Eleanor's whole body feel like a huge bundle of nerves.

"I wanted to use him. To bring him with us. He would not submit. I'm afraid that, in the end, his mind was broken," Kellan answered, her voice as even as if she commented on the weather.

"Use him? Maker's mercy, blood magic! You used blood magic, didn't you?"

"Yes. He had quite a bad reaction to it. I have never seen anyone resist so strongly. It was quite remarkable." Kellan smirked and settled down on the edge of the pallet near Eleanor's feet.

"I should kill you."

"You may try. I do not think you will succeed." She twitched the edge of her robe to cover her feet and gazed unconcernedly at Eleanor.

They sat a long moment in silence as Eleanor fought to control her emotions. She wanted to scream and cry at the loss of her protector and for fear of his condition. She wanted to leap up and tear the nonplussed face and hair of this dangerous witch with her fingernails until she invoked a reaction from her. She wanted to sob in fear, for she was certainly a captive. Most of all, she wanted Duncan.

When she had mastered herself, she said slowly, "What do you want with me?" and was slightly pleased to hear her voice barely shook.

"I will not tell you that now," the other woman replied. "I have heard many a tale where the plot is revealed too early and thus foiled by some fool or another. I will keep my council to myself, if it pleases you. If it does not, then you will simply have to wait." She laughed. "It would have been easier indeed had you remained in the Fade."

In the Fade. That memory came back to Eleanor with those words: the dream, the handsome man, and the perfect life. It had been a trap. She had escaped, but Duncan had…

"What have you done with my brother?" she shrieked, and in her fear and anger she pushed herself up onto her numb knees and lurched toward Kellan.

The dark haired woman barely moved her hand and Eleanor fell back, the breath knocked from her body.

"Now, now," Kellan crooned. She leaned forward and brushed Eleanor's hair from her face in a strangely motherly gesture. Eleanor flinched away from the hand and gasped for air. She felt as if she had been punched hard in the stomach.

"Your brother is safe. For now. He wouldn't have been brought into this at all if you had stayed in the dream I created for you. But he meddled, woke you up, and so he's taken your place."

A strong gust of wind pushed at the tent walls and deposited more snow onto the floor. The fire flickered and then burned bright again. Eleanor shuddered.

"He is an accomplished Fadewalker, for all that he is not a mage. I think he will survive longer than most. But not for very long." Kellan examined her fingernails closely. "I think you would do best to aid me, sister, if you are concerned for his safety. One cannot leave one's body uninhabited for long."

"He is your hostage," Eleanor choked. She pushed herself up again and clasped her arms around her knees. "So that I will cooperate with you, is that right?"

Kellan arched her eyebrows and nodded.

"Will he be released unharmed if I help you?"

"Yes. I swear it."

"And what about me?" she asked in a small voice.

"That remains to be seen," Kellan answered smoothly. "I see no reason why you should not be returned safely to your family, if you do not cause trouble."

"I think you are lying. But I will do what you wish, for now. For Duncan."

Kellan shrugged. She pushed the tangled mass of her black hair back from her forehead and looked completely unconcerned about the matter, as if any nuisance Eleanor could create would be insignificant.

The fire cracked loudly as a log split and settled deeper into the coals.