My thanks to everyone who reads, lurks, and alerts this story. Most especially, my heartfelt thanks to Wyl for his thoughtful and extremely helpful reviews. I love getting these!

The Halla Tainted

Chapter 8

Marethari had spent most of the time Duncan and Adaia had been in camp tucked away in her aravel, surrounded by ancient and rare tomes, parchments and scrolls that the clan had gathered over the generations. She would emerge, blinking into the wane light of the numerous campfires, exhaustion clear upon her face, only at the day's final meal, offering what little she had managed to glean from her studies.

Unfortunately, it had not been much, and yet the Keeper was loathe to admit defeat so readily. And so she would emerge only for meals, taking her rest when necessary, as she continued with her research into the mysterious amulet and the runes marked thereupon.

Adaia had taken advantage of her time back amongst her people, reacquainting herself with many of the clan, spending time with her young nephew. She missed her own child, and found herself wondering how Cyrion was managing not only in the care of their young infant, but of Soris as well. Soris' mother, Dalia, was heavily pregnant and newly widowed, and the Dalish woman found herself wondering what had possessed her to take on this quest when her family needed her so at this time.

Many within the clan had welcomed their wayward hunter back with open arms. Others, however, treated her a bit more cautiously, some keeping their distance as they watched her from afar. Adaia had expected this; her absence from their clan had been extensive, and she had left them to not only fight in a war many deigned to be a shemlen matter, but had chosen to remain and bond with a flat-ear. The hunter accepted the distance and mild derision of her former clans mates stoically, although it still stung. No doubt her brother's murder had done much damage to the general mentality of the clan, and her return had only managed to reopen the wound for many.

It was with these thoughts that found the Dalish woman sitting, before a blazing fire, gripping the bowl of venison stew in long fingered, calloused hands. Blue eyes stared into the leaping flames as she pondered why she had left her family behind to help an Order she had little knowledge of, and even less respect for.

She sighed, her eyes lifting from their gaze of the flames, searching over the camp. Her gaze alighted upon the dark form of the young Warden, who was engaged in a lively conversation with many of like aged elves. A grin forced its way to her lips as she watched him pantomime some battle, a grin splitting his face at the cheers and scoffs of disbelief that greeted his story from the other young people.

Young people…she stretched, craning her neck before setting her bowl down. Since when had she no longer considered herself young? She ran her fingers through her long tresses, a frown upon her face.

Standing, her gaze shifted, taking in the camp, where many of the People sat by the fires, some in couples, others in large groups. But none of them sat alone. Ashalle sat nearby, Theron on her lap, noisily sipping his evening meal while twitching with impatience upon his foster mother's lap.

It was then she realized that she had ceased considering herself young the moment she had made the decision to leave her clan - her people - to fight with the shemlen against the Orlesians.

Even when she had been young, she had ceased being young.

These few days, once more amongst her People, not the flat-ears of the Alienage, but true elves, who knew their history, understood the true meaning of sacrifice, and were willing to fight for their freedom, had allowed the feeling of belonging to once again find its way into her heart, infusing her soul. She had not realized just how lonely she had been within the Alienage until she had returned to her clan.

And she would not be able to remain.

It was with a heavy, almost heartbroken sigh that she turned away from the sight of her clan, and walked with heavy steps to the three room aravel the Keeper had set aside for her and Duncan's use.

oOo

Standing still just was not Duncan's thing. He was used to movement, and since joining the Grey Wardens, that had been what his entire life had become. Even now, stationed in Ferelden, he never truly stayed in one place for long. His duties as Aldrich's second would take him all over the country, from Denerim to Highever, onwards to Orzammar and then to Redcliffe. Wherever he found himself, he found action, whether it was fighting the occasional stray darkspawn, a group of bandits believing the lone man easy prey, or the adventure of sharing a beautiful woman's bed, it did not matter to him. As long as he was constantly on the move, despite how he ended up in the Wardens, he was happy.

Or, as happy as one could be given that he would most likely die before he reached forty. Or the chance that his life may be ended even earlier than that upon the tainted blade of a darkspawn.

At least he did not think he would ever die to a Blight. It had, after all, been centuries since the last one, and all things had been quiet. He hoped that the strange darkspawn they had encountered nearly two years prior would keep its word. A Blight was the last thing the young warden ever wanted to experience.

There were just so many other more worthwhile things in this life to experience.

Such as the pretty Dalish girl who had become his near constant companion since they had arrived at the Mahariel camp. He looked over at her as she swiped a red lock from emerald green eyes, her delicately featured face turning in a wide grin as she noticed his attention. She had been shy, at first, with her curiosity regarding the shemlen male that had entered their camp with Adaia Mahariel. That he was a companion of the one who had become near legend in their clan added to the young man's mystique.

However, despite his many, many attempts at even trying to steal a kiss from the girl, Duncan had yet remained unrewarded for his efforts.

He was beginning to think that the sweet seeming young woman was actually teasing him.

Ah, well…his gaze left her face, searching through the various campsites, hoping to spot the tall figure of the woman he traveled with. However, the many bright lights of the fires combined with the surrounding darkness foiled his attempts.

With a sigh, he turned back to his companion, smiling as she continued with his lessons of their language.

oOo

"The Forest is littered with ancient ruins," Marethari stated, pointing a long, slender finger to an area east of their current location, deeper into the Forest. "According to the texts and scrolls I have regarding this area of the Forest," she frowned, looking up at Adaia and then over to Duncan, "which admittedly, there is not much of," she looked back to the intricately detailed map lying spread out over her table, "there was once a Tevinter settlement here." Again, her finger tapped the area, where stony ruins were depicted.

Duncan was frowning as he stood up, staring down at the map. Marethari continued as she stepped back, allowing the young human room by the table. "The amulet," she carefully pulled free the drawing of the amulet Duncan had given her days ago. "was the key as to where to start my search. I still cannot decipher the runes; however, knowing that they were Tevinter in origin assisted my search for where in the Forest your renegade mage may have been seeking."

"These ruins?" Duncan asked, turning to face the Keeper.

Marethari nodded. "Ages ago, Tevinter lords fought the Elvhenan in many battles here, in this Forest. There was much death and destruction, and the Veil between this world and the Beyond has thinned." She sighed. "It is but a guess, for there are many ruins within the Forest. However, these ruins are nearby and," she actually offered a small smile, "I found one of the runes from the blade denoted upon the depiction of the ruin here," she bent down to the map, her eyes squinting as she sought out and then pointed to where the rune, a square with offset corners, floated above the depiction of the ruin.

Frowning thoughtfully down at the map, Duncan muttered, "It is a start, isn't it?"

Without raising her own eyes, the Keeper nodded, saying, "Indeed it is, child."

Rising, she turned toward Adaia, who was watching as Duncan absorbed the information. She shook her head as the smirk she had become familiar with reappeared on the young Warden's face. "Well," he said as he straightened, facing the women, "it appears that our luck is holding out."

Shaking her head, Adaia offered a small shrug to her human companion. "So it would seem."

oOo

Armed with various maps of the Brecilian Forest and the Wilds, their packs laden with foodstuffs and other supplies, Duncan and Adaia set off for the ruins early the next morning. Ashalle, carrying Theron, accompanied Marethari and several hunters, to escort the pair to the outer perimeters of the Dalish campsite.

Adaia turned to Ashalle, her eyes dark and concerned. Duncan noticed that his normally confident companion seemed uncertain, her eyes straying back towards the camp they were departing. As the two women embraced, the small, squirming form of Theron between them, the young warden wondered if his Dalish escort debated returning to her people, completely leaving behind the husband and child back at the Alienage in Denerim. As the pair parted, Adaia's hand brushing Theron's chubby cheek once, he watched as her usual determined, stubborn expression returned to her face, her shoulders pulled back, her back straight. He had no idea of how difficult the visit to her clan had been for Adaia, but he did not doubt that leaving this second time was perhaps the most difficult.

He almost felt sorry that he was the cause for any discomfort the elven woman experienced.

Marethari had turned to him, and was speaking. Berating himself, he turned to the Keeper, shrugging an apology at her to indicate he had not heard her words. The Keeper merely chuckled at his bemused expression. "I said, young one, that I pray the Gods watch over you, and that Fen'Harel never find your scent."

Bowing his thanks, he hefted his pack squarely upon his shoulders, turning to watch as Adaia stepped forward to embrace her clan's Keeper. He moved away as Marethari whispered into Adaia's ear, "You are more than welcome to return, Lethallan." Adaia blinked, pulling away slightly to look into Marethari's wise eyes. "The clan would benefit, once more, from your leadership."

A thoughtful expression crossed Adaia's face momentarily, but, as she pulled herself free of the Keeper's encircling arms, she shook her head. As she hefted her pack to her shoulders, she replied, "And what of my mate and child?" Her eyes, dark blue now as they skimmed once more over the encampment. "My babe would benefit from the clan's embrace, however, I doubt Cyrion would find a place herein." She turned to stare into her brother's former First once more. With a sigh, she replied, "I shall think on it. Maybe Cyrion's skill in June's Art would garner him a position with Master Ilen."

The Keeper searched Adaia's face for several moments before offering her a smile and a nod. Her arms fell away and the Dalish hunter stepped back, matching the Keeper's smile with one of her own. Then, adjusting her shoulders once more, she turned toward her human companion, leading the way from the camp.

The slightest of frowns marring the smile upon her face, Marethari watched as the pair turned to wave their farewells before moving further into the Forest.

oOo

Once they had left the Dalish camp, the pair turned southeasterly, bringing them deeper into the ancient Forest. Neither knew what they would find at the ruins Marethari had indicated. However, the shared rune between the amulet and map had been their only clue.

As they walked, Duncan spared a glance to his companion. Adaia strolled along, her back straight, her eyes shifting, always wary. He had heard stories of these woods, of how they were said to be haunted by those who had fought and died here eons ago. He had first hand knowledge that strange things walked amongst these trees, but he understood from the Keeper that things far worse than the wild sylvans haunted these paths. Thinking along those lines brought a question - one of many - to his mind, and he found himself quickening his pace, bringing himself alongside his elven companion.

"If these Forests are so haunted," he began without preamble. Adaia glanced over at him, a blond brow raised. Taking it as permission to continue, he said, "why do the Dalish continue to make camp here each season?"

A small smirk lit across her lips. She tilted her head upwards, blue-gray eyes staring up into the sunshine before returning to the path before them. "These Forests are a part of us," she started, her voice quiet as she recalled the lessons from her youth. "We fought the Imperium here; we battled the barbarians for dominance, for a place to set our aravels when we tired of running." A small shrug rippled along her shoulders as she glanced back over to her human companion. "And what better place in which to seek peace than a place where humans fear to tread?"

Duncan blinked at that, nodding his head slowly as he absorbed her words. Self-preservation played a major part in the movements of each Dalish clan. Of that, he had been aware of since before leaving Orlais. The Dalish within the Empire's borders were far more reclusive than those found within Ferelden. The Warden had always presumed it was because of Orlais' class structure, where the wandering elves would be considered even less than serfs, and treated vilely due to that fact. Now he understood that it was far more than that.

The Dalish truly wanted to be separate from the race of beings that had so long ago decimated their own empire, scattered their kind across the face of Thedas, destroyed their history, and taken their lives. That they would seek the confines of a haunted, troubled Forest to further that separation was astonishing to the young man.

And yet, he found he could understand it. He had seen the clan as they lived, harmonious with one another, understanding the surrounding wilderness, accepting that never could they remain in one place for overly long. Slowly, he nodded his dark head, his eyes fixed upon the fine features of the elven woman beside him. She must have been aware of the thoughts the scrambled through the young human's mind for she said nothing else, but returned his nod before bringing her focus to the fore, picking their trail carefully as they traversed the wild tangles of the deep Forest.

The young warden noticed that several times during the course of the day Adaia would pause, lifting her bright head, almost as though she were sniffing the air. Then, she would tilt her head slightly as though searching for a particular sound. After about the fifth time of her doing so, the young man's curiosity finally got the better of him.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, frowning slightly as the elf turned her attention to him, her head still tilted slightly, searching for noise.

Her frown matched his own. "Wrong?" There was a subtle shake of her head. "I am uncertain I could say 'wrong', but…" she stopped, turning her gaze back ahead of them, then turned back, behind them.

Duncan had traveled the length and breadth of Ferelden. Had been in the Order for a few years now. Before that, he had lived on the dangerous streets of Val Royeaux, earning his coin through picking the pockets of nobility, commoner and the occasional chevalier. He knew when danger was, and could recognize the feel of it when it hunted him.

Carefully, he pulled his sword and dagger free of their sheaths, mindful that Adaia's bow was now free in her hand, the other grasping and pulling an arrow free of its quiver. It was as they turned, back to back, that they heard the first keening cry to the east.

A cry that was answered northerly of the first, echoed back again, and again. A tension ran through the young man, and he felt Adaia's back stiffen slightly as the cries came from all directions, rising in frequency, changing in cadence from cry to howl.

And closing in.

"Wolves," Adaia hissed out, and he was surprised that he noticed not only how low her voice had become, but how tight with fear it was.

Knowing the Dalish hunter with him was exhibiting a fear that he had never noticed in her before did nothing to quell his own growing ill ease as the howls came closer and still they had seen nothing emerge from the surrounding thick growth of trees and under growth.

"Where?" Duncan breathed out, his eyes scanning the surrounding undergrowth, a gnawing feeling growing in his belly. He still saw nothing, but heard enough for worry.

"I…" Adaia began, but could not finish, as the lanky form of a black, shadowy wolf erupted from the shadows, teeth bared, snarling as it lunged at the human male. Snarling out, the Dalish warrior spun, bow level in her hand, arrow quickly knocked as she pulled and fired.

The missile exploded into the air, slicing deeply into the heavy chest of the creature. A pained whine rose into the air, ceasing as a second and then third arrow hit, felling it to the ground. Suddenly the pair was surrounded by dark forms, slinking around them, snarling as they flowed into and from the shadows.

"Shadow wolves," the Dalish warrior muttered as she knocked another arrow. "Be careful, Duncan," she advises, addressing him by name, one of the few times she has done so. "They lair within the deepest shadows, are more wily than their smaller cousins, and can move as rogues within their confines."

"You mean they're sneaky?" the young man quipped, allowing a smirk to cross his dark face as he and Adaia pivoted, each watching the surrounding creatures warily.

A slight, tremulous chuckle breathed between Adaia's lips. "Rather like someone else I know." He could almost hear the forced smirk in her voice.

The injured wolf howled its pain, spurring the others into action. Sleek, shadowy forms shifted into and out of the shadows, launching themselves at the pair in their midst. Adaia managed to fire off several arrows, each scoring hits on three of the wolves while killing the first. But, the creatures moved too quickly, too assuredly, and the elven archer had to abandon her bow for the daggers she wore at her hips as the predators advanced.

Crouched down, Duncan had remained at Adaia's back, protecting it as she fired off her missiles. Once she had abandoned her bow, he lunged forward, swiping his sword in an arch as he jabbed forward with his dagger, forcing the wolf back and away, snarling as it lowered its head, its dark eyes fixed upon the human before it. Maintaining his crouch, Duncan shifted his position, brandishing his blade at another oncoming wolf. Adaia, sensing his circumstance, spun about, her daggers flashing in the dappled forest light, clipping the second oncoming wolf's nose, forcing it back with a pained snarl.

The first wolf harassing Duncan gathered itself, leaping into the air. With a shout of warning, the young Warden brought his sword up, thrusting it directly into the chest of the airborne wolf. The blade sliced through hide, slipping between ribs, slicing into the great heart beneath. Bracing his feet, the young warden gripped the hilt with both hands, flipping the wolf overhead, slamming it to the ground. With barely a yelp, the wolf flopped about as it bled out.

Duncan's presence near her back, Adaia lunged forward, her daggers crossed before her as she advanced upon one large, black wolf. It's keen, yellow eyes watched her warily, and the elf wondered if this was the alpha of the group. The creature stood head and shoulders to the elf, its black fur bristling as it hunched, readying itself to pounce upon the slender woman.

Before the creature could gather itself, the elf shot forward, daggers still crossed. The beast snarled as it leaped forward, and its snarled rose as a pained growl as her daggers uncrossed, slashing across the beast's shoulder, slashing deeply, drawing blood. Baring its teeth, it slunk backwards, cautiously, watching the elf as they circled one another.

Three of the smaller wolves lay at Duncan's feet, but he had not escaped the battles uninjured. Many cuts from claws, gashes from teeth, and bruises from being brought to the ground beneath one of the heavy wolves, were dotted over the young man's body. He could hear his companion as she met the large alpha, but one more wolf stood before him, larger than his other foes, its dark, red fur matted with old, dry blood. He shivered at the intelligence within eyes that seemed almost human, and he silently scolded himself his wild imaginings. He heard a gasp from Adaia, and a loud thudding sound behind him followed by a startled cry.

And yet he dared not glance back to his companion, for fear his own opponent would take the moment of distraction and advance. Thus far, it only watched him, circling, its eyes fixed upon his. Slowly it blinked, but maintained its distance.

Adaia found herself pinned beneath the heavy body of the black wolf, its fetid breath in her face as it snarled down at her. Her arms were raised, crossed beneath the wolf's chin as she struggled to keep its snapping jaws from her face. She cried out Duncan's name as she struggled to bring her knees up and beneath the great beast's chest.

Duncan heard her cry out his name, and he faltered, his eyes wavering between the wolf before him and his fallen companion. His wolf paused, its eyes going from the human to the pinned elf. It huffed out, almost a sneeze, and Duncan could hear the struggles behind him ease. He risked a look, surprised to see the huge black wolf saunter back from the elf, its teeth still bared, yellow eyes fixed upon the elven woman who now struggled to her feet, her blades still in her hands, held before her.

Duncan looked back to the smaller wolf, watching as it backed from the pair. The large black circled around the two, moving to stand beside the red wolf. Then, with a final look at the two, the pair turned, lumbering off into the shadows, leaving the pair injured from minor wounds, bloodied, and bewildered.