"What a strange day it's been - spider rescues, elven serenades, healing magic, mabari baths... On the list of things I thought could happen today, they would be, well… I guess I'll have to add them. " A lopsided grin deepened the dimple in Alistair's cheek.
"You keep a list?" Zoya's answered his smile with one of her own. If I had a list, this human making me grin until my cheeks hurt wouldn't have been on it.
"Yeah, it's a big list - I like to be prepared - but apparently it's not big enough. And we haven't even headed into the Wilds yet. I'm sure I'll have to add to it again afterwards." Alistair laughed.
Zoya offered a saucy wink, "Stick with me, serrah, and your list will only continue to grow. Admit it - your day would have been pretty boring without these little surprises."
He shook his head as he chuckled, "I'm getting the impression I won't find myself bored when you're around – severely wounded or locked in the stocks perhaps, but never bored."
"Stay on my good side, and maybe I'll patch you up or break you out when it happens." She bumped him with her shoulder.
"When, not if, eh?" His grin widened.
"Yup! In case you'd forgotten, I've a knack for finding trouble. Umm… Before I forget..." Thanking a Templar for his help wouldn't have made the list either. "Thank you for everything you did back there."
"Happy to be of service, m'lady." Alistair bowed, adding a dramatic flourish.
An image of the greenish shade he'd turned at the sight of the mabari's innards flitted through her mind. "You didn't seem too happy about it at the time."
"Aww… I hardly grumbled about it." He rubbed a hand along his jaw, "You know, for a moment I actually wondered if it was all some kind of elaborate prank – that I'd get in the kennel with that monster, and you'd drop a paralysis glyph, leaving me stuck with his jaws around my throat or something."
Zoya quirked an eyebrow, tapping a finger against her lips. "Hmm… strangely enough, it never crossed my mind. But I'll tuck that idea somewhere safe – it's a good one."
"Maybe I shouldn't have said anything. And I really can't take credit for the idea. There was this mage at the Circle who loved dropping glyphs on Templars in the most awkward places, like the baths or privy." His cheeks reddened, and he cleared his throat, "Speaking of the Circle... I hate to bring it up, but when word spreads that there's a healer here who's not supervised by the Templars, you'll have a queue stretching across camp."
"Sounds like some good stories there," she winked. "You know, I didn't think the kennelmaster was going to let me leave - he'd have had me healing hounds day and night or magicking away fleas." She scratched absently at her head, "But I'm guessing the soldiers complaints won't be about fleas, bites and scratches, bellies full of strange things, and damaged paw pads."
"Ha! You don't know much about soldiers, do you?" He grimaced before twitching his head toward the Warden's camp, "It looks like Ser Jory has returned. Assuming Daveth is still… umm… in the tent, we should probably stay put and wait for Duncan."
The stocky human's armor gleamed as he sat on a log, his helm perched next to him. He nodded curtly as he glanced up from sharpening his sword. "Alistair, I was about to search for you. You just missed Duncan, and he was not pleased that you and the new recruit were not here."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Alistair's face before it took on a bland expression similar to the one he'd used with both the mage and Hawke. "Ser Jory, this is Zoya, our newest recruit."
Zoya bristled at the Knight's glare but stepped forward, politely crossing an arm over her chest and bowing, "It's nice to meet you."
Ser Jory's face was hard. "I did not know the Grey Wardens took elves, or women."
A frown furrowed Alistair's brow, "The Wardens take all who are worthy, Ser Jory."
Zoya bit the inside of her cheek to stop the blooming retort. Great! One recruit can't keep his hands to himself, and the other thinks I shouldn't be here.
"I'd watch it, Ser Knight. She's a prickly one." Daveth stuck his head through the flap of the tent, "Stayed out of the stocks did you? Nessa didn't think you would. She told me to tell you both of us should come to the elf camp tonight, and to bring Alistair. She said something about winning back some coin and seeing for herself if what they say about Wardens is true." The rogue wagged his eyebrows at her as his grin widened.
What's Nessa scheming? Her fellow elves weren't generally welcoming to humans, and got decidedly less friendly the more alcohol they consumed. "Yeah, sounds like a great idea," she fought the urge to roll her eyes. "What do they say about Wardens?"
"Depends on who's speaking." Alistair's cheeks flared red as he avoided her gaze, shooting a warning look at Daveth before turning his attention to the knight, "Did Duncan say when he'd return? Or if there's anything we need to do before he gets back?"
"I think you've both done plenty in my absence." Duncan's deep voice sounded at her back.
Zoya's shoulders flew toward her ears, a sideways glance telling her Alistair was also cringing. Maker's ass! How does Duncan keep sneaking up on me like that? She turned slowly to face him, her head bowed in anticipation of the lecture she knew was coming.
"Riling up mages, stealing from the Circle, antagonizing the quartermaster, brawling, using unauthorized magic... Need I go on?" His face was stern as he crossed his arms.
The words flew from Zoya's mouth before she could stop them, "But nothing was actually stolen, and I'd hardly call what happened brawling - no one was hurt, right Daveth?"
"Nothing but my manly pride, girlie," Daveth winked. "But I won't hold it against you."
"See! The magic, well… I was just trying to help. And the mage and the quartermaster both deserved any lip they got." She fidgeted as Duncan silently pinned her with a steely glare. Biting the inside of her cheek, she dropped her eyes to her twining fingers. "I'm sorry, commander. And just to be clear, it was all my fault – Alistair was only trying to keep me out of trouble."
Alistair quirked an eyebrow in her direction, an expression that was almost identical to Duncan's, before raking fingers through his hair, "I'm not going to let you take the blame. You know, I wouldn't have spoken to that mage at all had the Revered Mother not ambushed me. The way she wields guilt, they should stick her in the army."
The commander shook his head, loosing an exasperated sigh before dragging a hand over his beard, "She forced you to sass the mage, did she? I expected better from both of you. We can't afford to antagonize anyone - the last thing we need is to give a quiver of arrows to those who already have their bows aimed at the Wardens."
Alistair hung his head, "You're right, Duncan. I apologize."
Duncan's eyebrows knotted as he scrutinized them each in turn. "Jory and Daveth, you'll go to the quartermaster and retrieve everything on this list. Should he question you, this scroll has the king's seal, entitling us to any supplies we require." He handed a pair of loosely rolled papers to the knight before handing another to the Warden. "Alistair, you'll go to the mage's camp and provide the Tranquil with this form. And while you're there, you'll apologize for your and Zoya's behavior." His dark eyes fixed on her, "Zoya, you'll stay here with me - I need to speak to you."
The humans bowed, turning to hurry away. When Alistair shot her a concerned look over his shoulder, Zoya shrugged and mouthed an apology. It hardly seemed right that he'd have to atone for her. I suppose I owe him now. She couldn't help but return his sympathetic smile as he moved away on feet that were less carefree than she'd seen earlier that morning.
Zoya gasped as Duncan's hands clasped her shoulders, dragging her back into the lee of the large tent, out of sight of the rest of the camp. She whirled to face him, her eyebrows raised as she crossed her arms. "What? I apologized – what more do you want? It's not like anything disastrous happened!"
"Here I was thinking how much you'd grown, only to have you remind me just how young you are." He shook his head, his mouth twisting into a frown. "Zoya, your actions were enough for others to take note and report back to me, not to mention drawing the attention of the Templars-"
"Others 'took note' or you had someone following me?" The tightening of his jaw gave her the answer, although not the one she was hoping for. "Andraste's flaming ass! How did I not realize... you really must not trust me." As preoccupied as I've been with Alistair all morning, I guess it's not surprising I didn't notice I had a shadow. But it was stupid and careless of me - I need to be more focused, just not on the Warden. Her eyes narrowed, a scowl contorting her face as she pulled her arms tighter across her chest. "And I thought the Templars couldn't touch me now that I'm with the Wardens, that I didn't need to fear them now."
"It's not a matter of whether I trust you. And the Templars don't have any authority over you, but you know better than to think you don't need to be cautious." Duncan cupped her face, tipping it upward to meet his eyes. "I don't think you truly realize the scrutiny the Wardens are under here. What were you thinking?"
The hot ball of anger in her belly turned into a lead weight. She forced her gaze to her feet to avoid seeing his disappointment. "You're right – I made a mess of things. I'm sorry. I'll try to do better, I promise."
"I know you will." He pulled her into a hug, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. "It's alright - nothing we can't handle. Now tell me, how are you feeling?"
"I'm fine." Zoya gazed up at him, trying to dispel his concern with a reassuring smile. His frown confirmed it hadn't been convincing, "I've felt worse. There's been some dizziness, and I keep getting these strange twinges in my chest..."
Duncan raised an eyebrow, strong hands holding her in place as chestnut eyes lost their focus. After some time, he released a relieved breath, "The barrier seems to be holding - there's no sign of darkspawn corruption. If you're feeling odd, it's not from that." He regarded her in silence for a few moments before the corners of his mouth tugged upward, "You and Alistair seem to be… friendly."
"What?" Zoya's eyes widened as she pressed her hands against his cuirass, nearly tripping over a tent stake when she took a step back. "I suppose this is something you heard from your spy?"
"Well, there have been reports of my young Wardens spending time together at the overlook…" Duncan's hands squeezed her arms as he steadied her, shaking his head, "But I don't need anyone to tell me - I can see it for myself."
"By the Void! Nothing happened! We were just trying to find Daveth." Images of the handsome Warden's lopsided grin and the elusive dimple in his cheek filled her thoughts, sending a blush speeding all the way to the tips of her ears. Her hand stole upward to tangle in her braid as she ducked her head. "But yeah, I suppose he's alright for a human. Although I haven't ruled out turning him into something slimy if he gets too annoying."
"Well, it's a good thing you don't know how to do that," Duncan chuckled.
"What happened to 'You imagine what you want, and then you will it to be so'?" Zoya quirked an eyebrow at Duncan, the corner of her mouth pulling upward. "And don't you dare tell him I don't know how!"
"Ah… I see you're starting this relationship off right – keeping him quiet with empty threats. That's my girl!" White teeth flashed behind his dark beard, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. But it didn't take long for his face to grow serious again. "Speaking of keeping things from Alistair, have you told him about what happened in the Brecilian Forest, about the darkspawn corruption?"
"Does he really need to know?" Zoya felt the color leave her face as she squirmed – there had been a moment when they were with the mabari that she'd tried to tell him. But now, she was almost thankful he'd interrupted her before she could.
Duncan crossed his arms, "Alistair is leading your mission into the Wilds, his duty to look after you and the other recruits and bring you back safely. He can't do that if he doesn't have all the information he needs. I have to tell him, Zoya."
"No!" Zoya was surprised at the note of panic in her voice, something that Duncan didn't miss either, his eyebrows shooting upward. She grasped his hand, "Please don't tell him, Duncan. I should be the one to do it. And I will, as soon as I can."
His face was stern, "Before you head into the Wilds?"
She nodded, avoiding Duncan's eyes, the words bitter on her tongue. "As if it's not bad enough I'm an elven apostate, now I have to add hopelessly corrupted to that. You know, when we were with the mabari, Alistair was looking at him with this wonderful mixture of disgust and pity. I can't wait to have that expression turned in my direction-"
"My little magpie… Is that what this is about?" Duncan wrapped his arms around her, bowing to kiss the top of her head. "Alistair won't think less of you."
"You don't know that," Her tone was petulant, but she pressed her forehead against the cool metal of his cuirass, sighing as he stroked her hair. The familiar gesture soothed, just as it always had, and she found herself relaxing into his embrace.
The sound of a throat clearing behind her sent her jumping back from Duncan, once again tripping over the tent stake. A strong hand wrapped around her arm to stop her from falling. Blast it to the Void! Zoya snuck a glance upward, her cheeks burning. Maker, please don't let it be Alistair… She bit back a groan, her heart thudding noisily when her eyes confirmed her fear.
Alistair snatched his hand back, his cheeks pink as he stared toward the campfire, carefully avoiding their eyes. "I'm…umm…I don't mean to interrupt. Everyone's back and waiting for your instructions, Duncan." He pressed a small, leather pouch into her hand before spinning on his heel and heading toward her fellow recruits.
Zoya opened the pouch enough to see the blue glow of lyrium, attaching it to her belt as she followed Alistair to the campfire. Grabbing a spot behind where Daveth had perched on one of the logs, she fidgeted, questions whirling as her eyes shifted between the stern-faced commander and Alistair's stiff back. How long had he been standing there? How much had he heard? What must he think after seeing me in Duncan's arms?
Duncan scrutinized each of them in turn, "You four will be heading out into the Wilds to perform two tasks. The first involves collecting three vials of darkspawn blood, one for each recruit."
"I expected having to battle the creatures, but to collect their blood? I thought it was poisonous." Ser Jory's eyes widened.
"It's needed for the Joining. I'll explain more when you return from the Wilds." Duncan regarded the knight for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching downward, before his eyes scanned the rest of the group, looking for any sign of protest. "For the second, I need you to locate the Grey Warden archive, abandoned long ago when it was decided we couldn't maintain such a remote outpost. Some scrolls were left behind, and I need you to retrieve them."
Daveth turned to Zoya, his eyes narrowed as he whispered, "We're risking our lives for some dusty, old scrolls?" When she only shrugged in response, he turned his attention back to Duncan. "How are we going to find this Warden archive? The Wilds are filled with ruins. And then there's the darkspawn, wild animals, Chasind, and witches. I grew up close by - it's not a good place to wander!"
Why is Duncan risking sending us chasing about the Wilds to search for scrolls when we should be completing the Joining? Maker knows how much longer my corruption can be kept contained, or what will happen if it breaks free. Zoya quirked an eyebrow, "He's got a good point. What makes finding these scrolls so important, Duncan? And if they're valuable, why were they left in a ruin? How do you know they're still there after all this time?"
"They're treaties between the Wardens and others – the elves, the Circle, and the dwarves. I suspect we'll need them to remind our allies of their obligations before this Blight is over. They would have been sealed in a chest and protected by magic, and only a Warden would be able to break the seal. I doubt anyone thought it would take so long to return for them, but then many things were assumed that haven't held true." He reached into his pack and pulled out a roll of yellowed parchment, handing it to Alistair. "This map will help you locate the ruins, but you should also be able to sense the protection spell once you get close enough." Duncan ran a hand over his beard before crossing his arms, "Enough questions - you've much to accomplish before sunset. Good luck."
They each bowed to Duncan before gathering their weapons and other needed gear. Daveth passed her a handful of vials with a grin, and she nodded in thanks before tucking them into the pouch at her waist. She turned to the commander, feeling like she should say something before heading out.
Duncan shook his head, offering a small smile and mouthing for her to behave herself. She tossed a wink over her shoulder as she set off toward the gate, but the weight of his gaze settled on her back. Before she'd gone a dozen steps, he called out, "Alistair, a quick word before you go."
A cold hand clenched her heart as she spun to gape at him. He wouldn't dare tell Alistair about her corruption, not after agreeing that she could do it, would he? But then Alistair may have overhead everything. Maker! How did I not hear him approach? Her mind spun, trying to find an excuse to interrupt the men, or at least stay close enough to listen. But Duncan sent her on her way with a furrowed brow and twitch of his head. She sighed, heavy feet carrying her toward the other recruits.
~oOo~
"Alistair, a quick word before you go." Had such simple words ever caused such knotting in his gut? And it seemed he wasn't the only one - Zoya had nearly tripped over her feet, staring wide-eyed at Duncan as the color left her face. Her reaction only increased his anxiety. What could the commander want? Was this about what he'd seen earlier? He shoved away the images churning in his mind of the little elf in the commander's embrace.
It took an agonizing heartbeat to form the words, "What can I do for you, commander?"
A dark eyebrow rose at Alistair's formality, "I wanted to speak with you about this mission and about your charges, Zoya in particular."
"Look… I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't know... didn't think you were… that she was… Maker! Do we need to talk about this?" His cheeks burned. By the Void, Duncan is old enough to be her father!
Duncan's eyebrows shot upward as he shook his head. "That's not what I wanted to speak to you about." He took a deep breath as he crossed his arms, "But since you brought it up, you and Zoya seem to be getting along-"
"It's not like you think. I mean, it's my duty to look after the recruits, right? And you said we're supposed to all try to get along." Alistair silently prayed to be struck by lightning as Duncan watched him fumble about. He stared at his feet, continuing lamely, "She seems... nice." Intriguing, smart, skilled, exotic, enchanting, lovely...
"Hmm… very diplomatic word choice. But it's not the first one that would come to my mind where Zoya is concerned." Duncan chuckled, "Relax, Alistair. I think you might have gotten the wrong impression about Zoya and me. But now isn't the best time to discuss this - there's a mission to complete - and it's really her story to tell."
Alistair gave the man a wry smile, "Oh sure! I can see us now, chatting about it while trudging through the swamps and hunting darkspawn."
The corner of Duncan's mouth twitched upward, and he shook his head. "You're young, so you'll probably disagree, but there's no rush. You'll have plenty of time to talk about such things after the Joining, as you get to know each other."
Alistair had been trying not to think too far ahead, but the air felt thin as he recalled his own Joining, of the recruits of past rituals who hadn't survived. "But what if she doesn't-"
"I've no doubt that she'll survive the Joining, just as I had no doubt about you would. Someday you'll understand." Duncan gripped Alistair's shoulders, "As a Templar, and now as a Warden, you know what it's like to be part of a fellowship, trusting that your brothers will always have your back. And you know this trust can take time to build. And for some, like Zoya, it takes a little extra work. She's cautious, and for good reason. But once you've earned her trust, you won't find a more fiercely loyal comrade."
"I've never met anyone like her." Alistair raised his eyes to meet Duncan's gaze, "You should have seen it, Duncan! How she took Daveth to the ground in the span of a heartbeat, how she used her magic with that mabari."
"And you'll never meet anyone like her again." Duncan's eyes glittered as sorrow deepened the lines in his face. He shook his head roughly, clearing his throat. "And I'm familiar with her skills; I've seen her in action. With the exception of her magic, I taught her most of what she knows. But as Adaia used to say, 'you've only seen a few petals of that flower - you'll be surprised by what you see when she blooms.'" His eyes lost focus, seemingly lost in memory, before the corners of his mouth tugged downward, "A word of warning, Alistair. Zoya is impulsive, throwing herself into the thick of things without thinking. You'll need to keep her reined in until the right moment comes to set her loose." Duncan released him with a clap on the shoulder, "You should be on your way. But keep in mind, these recruits are counting on you to guide them, to lead them. I'm trusting you to keep them safe, to do whatever it takes to get them back here for the Joining."
Alistair took a deep breath, trying to drive back the panic tightening his chest. "I don't understand. I mean, sure... it's tradition, but why would you put me in charge of anyone? I'm no leader – I can barely take care of myself most days."
Duncan rubbed a gloved hand along his beard as he regarded Alistair, "Maker, there are moments I forget you're not your father - you sound just like him." Stepping toward him, Duncan's hands gripped his shoulders once more, "There's no reason for you to doubt yourself, Alistair. I wouldn't let you take those recruits into the Wilds if I didn't think you were capable of leading them."
Alistair nodded, swallowing past a clenching throat. "I'll do my best. I won't let you down, Duncan."
~oOo~
This close to Ostagar, the Wilds were anything but. Other than their party, there was no sign of life - no people and no birds or beasts, just gravel, rubble, some scrubby plants, and the midday sun beating mercilessly down on them. Zoya was glad she wasn't more heavily armored like her companions - her light armor was stifling enough. Sweat beaded on her brow and tickled between her shoulder blades, the leather feeling slimy between her skin and the weight of her weapons.
Zoya's fingers twisted her braid, her eyes lingering on Alistair's profile as he chewed absently at his lower lip. What had Duncan said to him? While she'd expected him to confront her as soon as he'd rejoined the party, the human had been oddly quiet, seemingly lost in his thoughts as they made their way through the main gate and into the Wilds. Even when the gate's guard announced they needed to return before sunset or risk being locked out into the Wilds for the night and requested that they keep watch for the patrols already out there, one of which had not reported in and was assumed lost, the amiable Warden responded with only a terse nod of acknowledgement.
Perhaps sensing Zoya's gaze, Alistair turned to her, the corners of his mouth barely twitching upward in response to her self-conscious smile. "So I'm curious…"
Oh, Maker! Here it comes. Her mouth went dry, "About?"
"Wow! That's quite a face!" His eyebrow quirked, "It's nothing too terrible - I was just wondering if you've ever encountered darkspawn."
Zoya noisily freed the breath she'd been holding. This might be a good time to tell him about the corruption. Maybe that's why he brought it up. "Umm... Duncan and I encountered darkspawn in the Brecilian Forest-"
"By the Void! They've made it that far north?" He gaped at her, his face pale.
He's surprised – maybe Duncan didn't tell him. She forced a neutral expression, "Yeah, but they don't seem to be massing there, more like just a few stragglers." Tell him! She shook her head, swallowing hard, "Duncan seemed to think we cut off their access, though."
He rubbed at his jaw, "So what... they were using some kind of tunnel, like the Deep Roads?"
"Not exactly." Her eyes focused on fingers that were knotting just like her tongue. As much as she knew she should share the tale, her mind blanked when she tried to figure out where to start. She grimaced as he watched her expectantly. "Umm… it's kind of hard to explain - it was a portal of sorts. I'm not sure how exactly they were doing it…"
"Huh, well I'm sure you and Duncan took care of it. You'll be at an advantage at least. Most recruits - these two included - have never encountered a darkspawn before the Joining." Alistair raked his fingers through his hair, lowering his voice, "I know when I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was."
For a moment, Zoya felt herself back in the ruins - the greasy darkness, the smell of decay, the cold of the mirror, the hissing voice. She felt a twinge in her chest and closed her eyes, prodding the magical barrier. It was almost like a loose tooth – once you noticed it, you couldn't help but fuss with it. Hopefully, unlike a tooth, poking at the barrier wouldn't lead to losing it.
Fighting back a shudder, she shrugged, trying to look casual. "Darkspawn are horrible, but they die like anything else. Even so, I can say I'm not looking forward to encountering more. How far do you think we'll have to travel before we find them or the archive ruin?"
Alistair's hazel eyes went glassy and a few heartbeats later, he grimaced, "We won't need to go far." He unrolled the map, his finger tracing over faded lines. He smiled down at her when she tugged his arm lower so she could see it as well. "Hmm… It feels like the bulk of the horde is still a ways to the south, with several smaller patrols mostly to the west. But at least one larger group and two patrols are between us and the archive. It might take us a bit of time to get past them, to the ruin, and back. No time for a picnic, I guess."
"Too bad… not even time for a quick swim? This sun is killing me." Zoya offered a crooked grin before glancing over her shoulder at her fellow recruits. Neither seemed happy about their situation, especially Ser Jory - the knight's glare was boring holes in her back.
The smell of brackish water and decomposing vegetation filled her nose, and she looked up to see signs of green just past the next rise. As Ser Jory strode in, pulling Alistair aside and shooting Zoya a scathing look, she let images of the knight sinking into the swamps flit through her mind.
Daveth sidled up to fill Alistair's vacated spot, arching an eyebrow at her. "I know he hates me, and for good reason, but what did you do to Ser Knight, girlie?"
"Who knows – maybe he has something against elves, or women, or redheads." Zoya shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore her growing annoyance with the human.
"All those things are fine by me." Daveth tossed her a roguish grin and chuckled.
"I'd wager there's not much that isn't fine by you." A smirk tugged at her lips, her ears twitching as she tried eavesdrop on the two warriors. "Now hush so I can hear."
Ser Jory's tone was tense, "You and I are men of action, proven warriors. It is obvious why the commander recruited the two of us to be Wardens. What I do not understand is why he would recruit these other two. He is a common thief, and she is just a little-"
"I'd watch the next words you utter." Alistair cut the knight off, his words clipped. "Duncan wouldn't have recruited any of you if he didn't think you were worthy of becoming Grey Wardens." Alistair shot her a small smile over his shoulder.
"Worthy?" Ser Jory threw a caustic look in her direction before continuing on in a smug voice, "They are a liability to the Wardens and to the mission. I had to win a tournament to earn my place here. The soldiers coming in from Denerim have had quite a bit to say about Duncan's newest recruit, how she earned her place. Do you know what she did to get conscripted, Warden? Has she told you?"
Oh Maker! The air fled Zoya's chest in a rush. With everything else she had going against her - being an elf, an apostate, corrupted - she hadn't considered word spreading about what had happened in Denerim. What do I do? I should speak up, tell my side of things. I might not care what the knight thinks of me, but Alistair… Her mouth opened, but her tongue refused to cooperate.
"Right… And I'm sure a bit of what they said had a glimmer of truth." There was laughter behind Alistair's voice. "And she doesn't need to tell me. The commander says when we Join, we leave our past lives behind. And I trust his judgment – if he thought enough of Zoya to conscript her, that's all I need to know." His stern tone sounded oddly like Duncan for a moment.
But while that tone would have told her to drop it, Jory was oblivious, "They say she incited a riot and was responsible for killing the Arl of Denerim's son, several other nobles, and an entire platoon of guards. She murdered good and honorable men in cold blood." He halted, turning to pin her with his glare. "Do you deny your guilt, elf?"
Zoya froze in place at the top of the rise, her thoughts as chaotic as the Wilds spread out before her. Her mind filled with images of Vaughan grinning smugly as he loomed over Shianni and Nola's bodies, his cronies leering at her and Soris like fresh meat for slaughter. Bile rose in her throat, her hands clenching as tightly as her gut. They were honorable men? Laughter, dark and bordering on hysterical, erupted from her lips. Apparently death has a way of wiping away one's well-known sins.
Her eyes stayed fixed on her hands as she sucked in one ragged breath after another, willing herself into stillness. And in that deadly quiet, she heard it - the sound of something, several somethings, creeping through the dense brush below.
Zoya pulled the bow from her back, drawing an arrow as she tracked the subtle movement, her eyes drawn to flashes of silver and black amidst the green. "Draw your weapons," she hissed.
Alistair's eyes widened, and he stepped toward her with his hands raised, "Zoya, lower the bow. We can talk this through-"
A cold, even voice pushed past her clenched jaw, "I'm guilty of many things, but I've never incited a riot, killed an entire platoon of guards, or killed an honorable man in cold blood. Now shut up and draw your weapons before it's too late!"
Alistair kept slowly walking toward her, "See, I told you not to pay any mind to soldier gossip, Jory. Zoya, put the bow down, and Jory will-"
"Idiots!" Zoya snarled as she dodged Daveth's clumsy grab at her and let the arrow fly free. She hardly registered Alistair lunging at Jory to knock him out of the way, as her focus was on drawing another arrow after watching its predecessor miss it's mark. The beast's yelp as the arrow buried into its silver flank drew her companion's eyes. The men cursed, scrambling to draw their weapons as the rest of the pack melted from the shadows.
Zoya set into a rhythm - draw, pull, release - as she loosed one arrow after another. The creak and twang of Daveth's bow soon joined in as they picked off wolves surrounding the two warriors fighting back to back below them. This didn't seem like normal behavior for the beasts, more like the way rabid dogs behave - mad, aggressive, no fear of the men and their weapons. They lunged toward the flashing arc of the men's swords, threw themselves against Alistair's shield. Her quiver was nearly spent when the last wolf collapsed to the ground.
She stalked down the hill, ignoring the humans as she moved among the remains to retrieve her arrows. She didn't need to be a Warden to see the signs of darkspawn infection. "Andraste's blazing sword, they're corrupted. Just like that cursed bereskarn in the ruins." Her stomach roiled as she noted their distended bellies and patchy fur caked with dried blood. "These beasts have been feeding recently, and not on darkspawn."
Alistair stood over one of the wolves, looking a little green. He gripped her shoulder, his eyes searching hers. "I can't believe you, well… thank you." The relief was clear on Alistair's face as he regarded her, "You never intended Jory any harm..."
"Are you daft? Or do you really think I'm the monster he's accusing me of being?" Zoya's brow furrowed, the corners of her mouth tugging downward. She turned her attention to the knight, in part to avoid seeing the answer in Alistair's eyes. But mostly she wanted to put an end to Jory's accusations. If these men were going to consider her guilty, so be it, but she at least wanted her say. "Let me ask you something, Ser Knight. Do you have a sister, a mother, a woman you love more than your own life?"
The knight glared at her, "I do not know what that has to do with your crimes, but if you must know, I have a wife. And I can only hope that the child she carries is a daughter that will be as beautiful as she-"
"Wait!" Zoya gaped at the man, "Duncan conscripted you with a wife about to give birth?"
"No, as I already said, I was not conscripted." Ser Jory's pinched expression showed his distaste for the idea, "I am a man of honor - I fought for the privilege to join."
Alistair's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. "I was conscripted, Ser Jory, as was the commander and most of the Senior Wardens. There's no shame in it." He took a deep breath, wiping his blade clean on one of the wolves before resheathing it. "Enough of this – we have tasks to complete, and we're running short on daylight."
Zoya knew she should let it drop, but the words burned like acid in her chest. She strode toward the knight. "I can't believe… You voluntarily left your beautiful, pregnant wife? You're a special kind of idiot, aren't you?" She shook her head sadly, "So the true answer to my original question is no - you don't have a woman you love more than anything." She silenced his objections with an impatient gesture of her hand, "As you're obviously not very bright, I know this might be difficult for you. But try to imagine armed and armored men swooping down on your home, killing your friends and family, and stealing away with your wife and daughter. What would you do? Would you stop at nothing to save them? And when you finally found them, would you weep impotently over their bloody, lifeless bodies? Would you howl to the Maker for justice, knowing you'll never get it? Or would you make your own justice on the tip of your blade?"
The knight's mouth flapped soundlessly for a moment before he spat the words out, "You expect me to believe that Bann Vaughan-"
"I don't expect anything of you." Zoya finally understood what Duncan had been trying to tell her in the Forest. Vaughan was a predator, no different from these wolves or the darkspawn she'd killed in the ruins. If the Maker was just, Vaughan and his cronies would rot for eternity in the Void for their crimes. The guilt that had been eating at her wasn't from the humans' deaths, but from not having been there to prevent what they did to Shianni and the others, and from not being there now to protect her family, her people. But by being here now, in this place so far from home, she could help protect them and others from the threat of this Blight. "We'll both believe what we want of each other. But don't doubt that I'll always do what I must to protect those who need it."
She spun on her heel and strode down the wide path carved through the brush by soldiers on patrol over the last couple of months.
Quiet footsteps reached her side, and Daveth's voice was oddly gentle. "Zoya, I just want you to know that not everyone thinks Vaughan or his buddies were good men. They were nasty pieces of work. But no one had the balls to stand up to them. I'm glad you did."
Zoya shot him a sideways glance, "Yeah, that's me - plenty of balls, not a whit of sense. I'm surprised-"
The sight before her as they rounded a bend in the trail froze her blood as surely as an ice spell. Bloody scraps of armor and splintered bone littered the trail as it descended into the ravine. Rough-hewn poles, arrows, and pikes stuck up from the ground like quills on a porcupine, a few holding heads of soldiers, others wrapped in red cloth like a flag. Odd constructs that looked almost like altars stood at the base of ruined statues, more bits of soldiers arranged like offerings. Her arm shot out to block Daveth from moving past her.
"Andraste's great flaming ass!" he hissed.
Alistair's footsteps sounded at her back, "Zoya, about what happened back there… I just wanted to say-"
Zoya's hand reached out to grab hold of Alistair's armor, stopping him from moving forward. Her voice sounded harsh in her ears. "Alistair, I… I think we found that missing patrol."
The Warden's eyes went wide as he sucked in a noisy breath, "Maker's breath-"
A/N - Thank you to my beta, Eve Hawke! And thanks to those who continue to read my story!