If anyone with German as their native tongue and a liking for more sinister music should be reading this, they might recognise the chapter title as part of a line taken from the ASP song 'Maybe'. Every time I start a new chapterI say to myself that this time I will not use a quote, and almost always I readily break the promise. Thanks again to all those that keep reading!

Chapter 14

Fly To The Moon Into A Tantrum

In the eastern parts of the Brecilian Forest, the path made a full circle with a number of junctions leading to a graveyard -- and a werewolf, hugging itself and rocking back and forth in agony. Núria approached it very cautiously, weapon readied. Before she got there, she was knocked to the floor by another of the creatures. She protected her face with her arm and felt sharp teeth breaking through the leather into her skin. When Alistair brought his sword down on the werewolf, it held her only harder. All this time, the whimpering creature did nothing at all, it didn't even look at them. Helpless from the heavy weight on her and the thing holding her left arm, Núria had to wait until Alistair had freed her. Her armour was bloodied, but the pain in her arm wasn't as bad as she had expected. She walked up to the pained werewolf she had approached in the first place and lifted her sword. She was ready to strike before the creature, savage with pain, would attack them in a much more frenzied manner than any had done so far. 'You are an elf, but none of the Dalish,' the creature rasped suddenly, and Núria lost her grip on her sword. It clattered uselessly to the ground, her arms still lifted. 'I was, until my … change. Have you … seen my clan?' A gentle hand took hold of Núria's arm and pulled it down. She blinked a few times and looked into Zevran's worried eyes.

'You … are a Dalish who turned into a werewolf?' The question was nothing more than a displacement activity, and she knew it.

'Yes, just scant days ago,' the creature gurgled. 'You know what happened to us?'

'Can we help you?' Núria asked, turning to Wynne. 'Can you?' The mage shook her head.

'My name is Danyla,' the werewolf said. 'My husband … he is called Athras. Please, you must … bring him a message. The scarf I wear … bring it to him. Tell him I love him. Tell him … I'm dead and with the gods … I beg you.'

'Athras … We met him, in the Dalish camp,' Wynne muttered softly.

'I want him to be at peace,' Danyla said. Her paws reached for Núria, settling on her arms. Even this barely hurt her at all. 'He is a good man. Please do not … let him suffer, thinking of me.' The werewolf gave a howl of pain. 'The curse is fire in my blood,' she growled. 'Please … end it for me … quickly.' Núria felt her sword being placed in her hand, but she couldn't move. She stared at the creature before her, feeling as if asked to kill her kin. She didn't know how many seconds passed before Zevran thrust his sword into the heart of the werewolf. It looked so slow … He sheathed it and shook Núria slightly.

'What's the matter with you?' he asked. 'What were you waiting for?' She had to shake herself back to her senses.

'I … I don't know,' she breathed. Zevran fixed her with his gaze. A strong, metal hand grabbed her left arm -- hard. Pain seared through her body at the touch. She had to concentrate to follow the arm up to Alistair. Without a word, he yanked up the sleeve of her armour. The flesh underneath was torn. She stared. 'I didn't notice …' she said, uncomprehending. 'I'm sure it looks worse than it is, if no one digs in their fingers it's bearable.' Alistair looked at Wynne, and Núria followed his gaze. The mage looked stricken

'Oh, Kira,' Zevran sighed. 'I suppose we have to hurry.' She shook her head.

'Why?' she asked. 'I cannot turn. I'm already tainted.'

'This is a curse, not the taint,' Alistair said evenly. 'He's right, we've got to get Witherfang. Wynne …' He had said her name with such desperation in his voice that the mage winced.

'I can perhaps slow the process, but I cannot stop it,' she said. Zevran made a step forward.

'Then do that, do whatever you can,' he said loudly. Wynne placed a hand on his shoulder.

'I will,' she promised. With light pressure on Núria's shoulders, she made her sit on the ground. Wynne put a poultice on her arm and gave her a potion. After a minute Núria felt better. The fog in her brain seemed to lift, the world had returned to normal speed. 'Núria, I will put a shield on you. I believe speaking with Danyla sped up the process. I hope to stop this from happening at later encounters, but I cannot promise that I can uphold the spell.' Núria nodded, feeling stupid and weak.

'Let's just move on, I prefer not dying just yet,' she said, trying at glibness.

The graveyard at another junction was guarded by two ogres, who, luckily, weren't very bright and did not fight them together. One ogre at a time was manageable. Considering what it had taken to defeat the one on the Tower of Ishal, they had obviously learned a lot on their way to the Brecilian Forest. Inspecting the place more closely, Zevran nudged one of the headstones. 'No … You fool,' Wynne moaned, backing into a tree as the earth trembled underneath him. From one moment to the next they were surrounded by skeletons, in their midst what Morrigan had once called a revenant. Alistair ran towards it, while Zevran and Núria tried to stop the other corpses from stabbing at the templar from all directions.

'Was that I?' the assassin asked when only the revenant was left.

'I don't know,' Núria said vaguely, slashing at the body, trying to breathe as shallow as it was possible in combat, to avoid getting sick from the stench. 'But if ever I'm tempted to kick a tombstone, tell me why I shouldn't.' Zevran gave a weak laugh and thrust his sword into the place where the heart of the revenant had once been. This didn't make much of an impression.

'Bleeding, shrivelled monster, go down already,' he said in desperation. Alistair's sword cut the revenant's head clean off its shoulders.

'And stay down,' the templar added as it fell.

Beyond the graveyard, they found a tent. Warily, Núria approached it. 'Another shade?' she muttered more to herself than anyone else. She took three quick steps backwards when a small, old man appeared before her out of thin air. 'What the …' she muttered.

'Oh dear, oh dear,' the man said, sounding harried. 'Not a werewolf, and not a spirit even, what are the woods coming to?'

'Wait, are you the thief who took the Great Oak's acorn?' Núria asked abruptly.

'Mayhap I did, and mayhap I didn't,' the man replied. 'Have you come to claim it back? Oh, what fun! But we are getting ahead of ourselves already. Ask a question, and you'll get a question, but give an answer and you'll receive the same. Oh, I do so love to trade.'

'You … want me to ask a question?' Núria asked with a frown.

'Wouldn't I have to ask you a question first?' the hermit replied.

'Isn't that a question?' Núria wondered aloud, feeling her head starting to spin.

'Would you know a question if it was asked?'

'Are you mocking me?' Núria glanced sideways at the others, who looked similarly confused. Well, at least it wasn't her this time.

'I don't know,' the hermit said. 'Are you mocking me?'

'This is ridiculous,' Núria said firmly.

'No!' the small man yelled. 'That is not a question! And if it be an answer, it be an answer to a question I've not asked. Have you no sense for the rules?' Entirely lost for words, Núria looked at Wynne for some advice on how to deal with a complete maniac.

'Be careful,' she said softly. 'This is no ordinary man. He is a mage … driven mad, perhaps, but still powerful.'

'No fair bringing mages to a guessing game!' the hermit pouted. 'Will you play by the rules or not?' Núria shook her head determinedly.

'I'm not going to put up with this nonsense,' she said decisively.

'And again you break the rules!' the mage railed at her. 'Bah! Bah, I say! Why does anyone talk to you if you don't even know the rules?' With her best haughty look, Núria turned away from the mage. She pointed at a tree stump.

'That's where he slipped out of,' she said as though he weren't there. She knelt before a small hole in the ground right next to it that led into a small, filthy cave. Another, smaller hole was in the trunk. She inspected it closely.

'Hold on you!' the hermit said suddenly. 'That's private property! That's an old man's home, that is! Keep out! Keep out!' Núria ignored him and reached for the hole.

'Hmm,' Zevran made next to her, and she looked up at him. 'No offence, but might I try? I've got a quick hand, after all.' He was wearing a mischievous grin, and Núria stood to give him access to the trunk.

'Go ahead, show off,' she said. Zevran rubbed his hands and knelt beside the trunk.

'Ha! Let's see,' he muttered, rolling up his sleeves before groping at the hole in the trunk. 'When was the last time I slipped my hand into some dark hole? Hmmm …. I remember … Long story, that.' Wynne rolled her eyes slightly and turned away. 'And there we go! It was definitely trapped, but I am too awesome by far. Here's what was inside.' Zevran handed Núria an acorn, but she didn't have time to commend him on his awesomeness, for now the hermit was angry.

'You're a robber is what you are,' he raged. 'They sent you, didn't they? Well, I'll show you! They won't get away with this!' With a wild gesture the mage summoned two fiery shades. Wynne sent a fierce spell at the other mage.

'Maleficar!' she said angrily. 'Disgusting, vile, filthy things!' Another spell from her knocked him on his back. Núria jumped on him and cut his throat open. Zevran and Alistair had done away with the shades.

'Oh my, Wynne,' Alistair said. 'Who thought you could get angry?'

'I'm sick of them, can you blame me?' she asked angrily. Alistair laughed softly.

'And here I thought just this once I could see what would have been my task had I ever actually become a real templar,' he said softly.

'Next time she'll leave a little bit for you,' Zevran told him, clapping him on the shoulder. He glanced at Núria. 'You all right?' She nodded.

'Yes, but I'm getting a headache from all this,' she said. 'I want to get out of here already.'

To the south they encountered the least solid barrier they had ever seen. Fog towered before them, and they could walk through it all right, but they always came out where they had started. Núria decided to return to the Great Oak and perhaps ask if it knew a way through.

'I bet you the maleficar would have known,' Alistair said. 'Not that I reckon he would have told us, mind you.'

The Great Oak was overjoyed to have its acorn back. 'My joy soars to new heights indeed! I am reunited with my seed. As I promised, here it be. I hope its magic pleases thee.' He handed Núria what looked like a slightly charred branch. 'Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout this forest free. I wish thee well, my mortal friend. Thou brought my sadness to an end. May the sunlight find you, thy days be long, thy winters kind, and thy roots be strong.' Núria passed the branch to Wynne, who closed her eyes, weighing it carefully.

'It carries power, if I may, I will keep it,' she said.

'Why does everyone think they have to ask permission?' Núria replied. 'Hang on … This will get us through the fog, he said it!' she shouted much louder than was necessary. 'Come on, I bet you!' Núria started running back east, but when she realised that Wynne wouldn't be able to follow at that pace she slowed down. When they reached the barrier, Núria watched Wynne entering the thick haze apprehensively.

'You can come,' they heard her voice after a few moments. 'You were right, my friend.' They stood facing an old ruin. After only a few steps towards it, they were stopped by Swiftrunner and his companions again. And again, they engaged them in a fight, apparently angry that the forest had not stopped them. This time Alistair took care that Swiftrunner could not flee again and knocked him to the ground. Núria jumped onto the chest of the creature, and just before she could deliver the killing blow, a large white wolf collided with her, sending her flying from her prey. It gave a drawn-out howl before running away, into the ruin. Swiftrunner followed suit, limping.

'Ah, there it is, Werewolf City,' Alistair muttered, bracing himself and walking towards the entrance. 'Kinda like flea heaven, isn't it?' Zevran smirked.

'I was thinking we might find treasure in there,' he said lightly, following the templar through the door. 'Do you think there are others to be found than wolf droppings?'

'Can we just move on?' Wynne asked. 'I'm trying to uphold a spell here.'

Soon after they had entered the ruins, Núria was once again completely lost. 'If you all run away now, I'll never find out again,' she muttered. Zevran chuckled.

'We wouldn't dream of it,' he said. 'Morrigan, the frigid cat, if she were here, would be a different matter. But you … No.'

'I couldn't agree more,' Alistair said. 'I think we haven't been in that corridor off to the left.'

'True,' Zevran said and strode into it before them. He froze in mid-stride when a horrible rumbling sound filled the air. 'That's either the roof coming down, or there is something down there. I'm not sure which I would prefer.'

'It sounded like loud breathing to me,' Wynne said. They moved on much more slowly. Alistair walked at the front again, weapon readied, but Núria stopped him quickly.

'Traps,' she said simply and slipped past him to disarm one. There were several of them, laid out expertly, no one but a person with a very keen eye would spot them. When she approached the last trap, a great roar sounded somewhere on her left. Something huge approached her, and all went dark.

The next thing she realised was a hand on her shoulder. Carefully she opened her eyes. 'You have a concussion, my dear,' Wynne's gentle voice said. 'I can only give you something for the pain when we have dealt with the curse, I do not think anything I have to offer would work well with the potion I gave you before.' Núria nodded vaguely and regretted it instantly. 'Alistair and I have cleared the path a short way ahead. There are spirits and walking corpses, but I hope it won't be very far after what we cleansed. I just didn't want to leave you behind for so long.' Núria rose slowly and felt dizzy for a moment.

'What exactly happened?' she asked, staring at a dead dragon.

'It didn't like you destroying the traps,' Zevran said. 'So it threw you into the wall with its hind-legs. If Wynne hadn't been there …' He didn't finish the sentence but looked at the mage with a strange look on his eyes. 'Let's talk when we're back at camp, shall we?'

Alistair led them to an enormous room with a set of stairs leading down in its middle. A large orb was placed on a socket in the middle of the room. 'What is that?' Núria asked, amazed, and stepped closer.

'A horror!' Wynne said sharply. Núria spun around. Before them was a thing the like of which she had seen in the fade. Corpses with bows and arrows flooded the room, and in the ensuing chaos all Núria could do was stay alive and try and help the others whenever she had time to spare. At last they were alone with the thing floating in mid-air before them. They all ran towards it, but before they were near enough to strike, it teleported to the other side of the room and left the place where it had been crackling with electricity. Alistair gave a yell of frustration. Zevran let his weapons fall and wrenched a bow and quiver unceremoniously from one of the fallen undead. Alistair and Núria followed suit. Núria especially had no training in shooting whatsoever and missed the thing more often than not. Finally Alistair sent an arrow right through one of its eyes, and it flopped to the floor, leaving only a set of robes and some dust behind.

'What precisely was that?' Zevran enquired, prodding the robes with his foot.

'Something like a revenant, but not exactly,' Wynne explained vaguely. 'This sphere however looks like an orrery. I believe that is what you wanted to know?' Núria blinked at her.

'Yes, but I don't know what an orrery is, either,' she admitted while they moved into the adjacent room.

'A model of the sky, if you like,' the mage explained. 'We have many of those in the Tower, you may look at them, they're not only useful but also quite pretty in fact.' They stopped before a pool of water. There was nothing else there, and all the other paths had led to dead ends, too. Núria felt slightly desperate.

'What now?' she asked. 'We cannot search every single door for a secret passage.'

'I would think that this is the secret passage,' Wynne said carefully. 'There is strange magic at work in these ruins, and this is only one sample. My friends, this isn't water. It is a door. And unless I am much mistaken we just slew the man who made it.'

((Just a sidenote: The quotes I've used so far were I Am Defeat (Ch. 5; WH Auden), Cry Havoc (6; Shakespeare), Leaving Concepts of Innocence and Guilt / Spread Your Wings And Fly (7/8; L'orchestre de Chambre Noir; chances that anyone knows them are very close to zero), Waiting for Morrigan (9; not a quote but an allusion, if not a very witty one, I admit), Truth Is Always A Delusion (10; Dürrenmatt), See Who I Am (11; Within Temptation song), The Hunted Hunter (12; name of a quest in VtM:Bloodlines). This is something I normally do when I write fanfiction one-shots, but never with a text with more chapters until now. Oh, the story title is a Shakespeare quote as well of course. Oh my.))