Author's Note: I am so sorry that I haven't updated this story for so long. I became caught up in my other story, Dragon's Rage. So, I am writing another chapter for Inseparable. Please note that the two tales do not interact; they are in entirely different timelines.

Chapter 10

Matthew, Anders, Oghren, and Nathaniel walked along the path through the Wending Wood, looking for evidence of attacks on traders. Morrigan was not with them this time; she was becoming visibly pregnant, and was forced to set aside her pride, and sit any further combat out.

Nathaniel, however, was not really looking for any signs of attack. His mind was still on his discussion with Delilah. When Matthew and Morrigan returned from the Chantry, they had found Nathaniel waiting for them, skin white as a sheet. In a broken voice, he informed his commander of what Delilah had told him, what his brother and father had done. As much as Matthew was glad that Nathaniel was now on the right track so far as event's were concerned, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Howe; it could not be an easy thing to be told by your own sister that your brother and father were selfish, insane sons of bitches.

Seeing that Nathaniel was again staring into space, Matthew called out his name; the tracker literally jumped in surprise. "Nathaniel," he said, "I realize that you have a lot on your mind, but right now, we need to focus on looking for whatever is causing this mess. Alright?" "Yes, ser," Nathaniel replied, and then began looking around for any indication of raids.

They didn't have to look hard to find them, though.

A short way into the wood, they found a wrecked, burning wagon, its contents strewn everywhere, being picked over by bandits who, upon seeing the Warden's approaching, fled off the path. Matthew knew that they were not the cause of the disaster, however; the wagon had attacked by something that wanted to destroy, not steal.

"Follow those bandits!" Matthew shouted, and the four companions ran after the thieves, bellowing war cries. A little ways into the woods, they found the main group of robbers. Half of them turned and fled at the sight of the approaching Warden's, but the rest grabbed their weapons and held their ground. It was the biggest (and last) mistake the robbers ever made. Lashing out with the Summer Sword, Matthew decapitated three men with one blow. Four others were blasted with a fireball from Anders, and the rest were shot by Nathaniel. Oghren swore; there was no one for him to kill. "Next time," the angry dwarven warrior yelled, "I get to take out the whole group."

Before anyone could reply, however, there was a cracking sound in the distance, followed by a scream of agony. Following the noises, the Warden's made it to a clearing, where a very strange sight played out before them.

The bandits, who had apparently run back to their main camp to gather reinforcements, were under attack- by walking trees! That was not what surprised him, however; Matthew had encountered these trees before. They were sylvans, trees that had been possessed by demons, who, trapped in their bark prison, had gone mad. Matthew had fought and defeated them before, so their presence did not surprise him.

What surprised him was that these sylvans were on fire.

Oghren was about to charge out to attack both sides indiscriminately, but Matthew held him back, saying, "Let's let them whittle each other down first." With a huff, the dwarf stood down, and the four Wardens watched and waited as their foes tore into each other.

Eventually, the bandits managed to prevail, though only three of them were left, still in shock over having been attacked by flaming trees. Matthew nodded to Oghren, and the dwarf happily charged forward and killed the last three bandits. The first one he decapitated, the next he slashed across the stomach, and the final bandit he split in two from the top of the head down to his pelvis. With the last of his enemies vanquished, Oghren bellowed a victory cry.

"Are you happy now?" Matthew asked. Oghren took a gulp of whatever foul concoction he kept in his flask, and gave an enormous belch. "Good," Matthew replied. "Now let's go." The group continued down the path, eventually coming to a stream with a bridge crossing it.

As they crossed to the other side, another bandit started running down the path toward them, and they prepared to cut him down. The man simply ran past them, however, a look of terror in his eyes, screaming, "Get out of my way! She's coming!", and taking off down the path.

"That cannot be good," Anders muttered. Just then, they heard a rumbling sound, and, at the top of a nearby cliff, an enormous tangle of roots shot out of the ground and into the air. They stopped, and then shot back into the ground. In their place stood an unusually tall female elf, her face covered in Dalish tattoos, and her hands still glowing with the spell that had powered the unusual spell. Upon seeing the group before her, her face twisted with disgust and anger.

"Another scavenger here to prey upon the misfortune of others?" she sneered. "No," she continued, giving them no time to respond, "you are too well armed. Here for me, then." The hair on Matthew's neck started to stand on end; it was possible that this elf was insane, or else extremely upset. Add in the fact that she was a mage, and she was defiantly a threat. He was absolutely certain that she was the cause of the attacks on the merchant caravans.

"You will not drive me from these forests," the Dalish mage continued. "The shems could not do it, the darkspawn could not, and you will fare no better." Deciding to attempt diplomacy, as he had no desire to engage such a dangerous foe if he could help it, Matthew shouted back, "We are Grey Wardens; we have no quarrel with you."

Recognition flashed in the elf's eyes, and she looked at them with a small amount of respect-or considerably less contempt- and said, "Ah. Then you are here to battle darkspawn then. Fair enough. Should you encounter any merchant caravans, tell them to release my sister, or more of their men will die. Now go, deal with your darkspawn, and stay out of my way." With that, she cast another spell, roots wrapped around her, and then shot into the ground, leaving nothing where she had once been but empty air.

"I think we know why all the merchant caravans have been attacked recently," Nathaniel deadpanned. Turning to Matthew, the archer said, "We should probably take her out immediately, Commander." "Not happening, Nathaniel," Matthew replied. "If the merchants kidnapped her sister, than she is in the right in this. The best thing we could do is find her sister and reunite the two. And besides, that elf is a mage; I would rather not fight her if I can help it." Nodding Nathaniel stepped back in line, and the group continued up the hill.

Eventually, near the top of the hill, they were ambushed by a group of darkspawn; three genlocks ran up the hill at them, and two hurlocks jumped from the bushes above them and charged down from the top of the hill. Matthew turned to face the hurlocks, leaving their smaller cousins to the other three.

The first darkspawn, wielding an ax in each hand, swung a vicious blow at Matthew's head, which the Cousland easily dodged. Matthew then swung the Summer Sword in a horizontal cut, catching the Hurlock underneath its haphazard chest plate, and bisecting the monster. The second darkspawn, wielding a massive maul, also swung its weapon at the Grey Warden. Matthew reached up, and grabbed the warhammer's handle as it came down toward him, stopping the weapon. Then, he stabbed his blade into the hurlock's chest. Matthew could feel the vibrations on the flaming blade, as the monster's black heart cut itself to pieces as it pumped the diseased ooze that passed for blood throughout its wretched body.

Pulling the blade out of the darkspawn's torso, and letting the corpse drop, he turned to his companions, who had already dealt with the other darkspawn; on gunlock was riddled with arrows, another had been frozen and shattered, and the last had had its head ripped off by Oghren.

Continuing to the top of the hill, the four adventurers found a small dalish camp; it had been ransacked, their wear bloodstains and discarded weapons everywhere, and, to the side, were six recently dug graves.

"I guess we know why that elf went on a rampage now," Anders said, trying to lighten the mood and failing miserably. "This wasn't done by humans," Matthew muttered. "Commander, I hate to speak ill about my own species," Nathaniel commented, "but I don't see how it couldn't have been done by humans; all these weapons are of our design."

"That is just it, Nathaniel; no one would leave all their weapons behind after an attack that killed all their opponents," Matthew explained. "These weapons were planted to mislead anyone who found the camp; namely, the elven mage we just ran into." "But who would do that, and why?" Anders asked, all cheer gone. "I don't know, and we are going to find out," Matthew replied, leading his companions out of the camp and back down the hill.

Ten minutes, one ambush, and eight dead darkspawn later, the group came upon a makeshift lean-to, with a man lying under it. I was clear he was extremely ill; boils covered his skin, black circles were under his eyes, and his breath came in ragged gasps. As they got closer, Matthew's Warden Sense, as he called it, began "tickling" his mind; the man was infected with the Taint. And it was too advanced for even the Joining to save him; the man was already half darkspawn.

As they approached, the man looked up, and then quickly looked away. "Don't….don't look at me," he groaned. "Who are you?" Matthew asked.

"Olaf….my name….came with friends to…..drive off the elf." The man's breathing became shallower. " But…..the darkspawn were too quick. We were ripped apart….biting claws and teeth from the darkness. Then….I woke. Everyone dead…..dead, soft meat, melting into the ground. I….crawled here. Can't stand to see it."

"Did you kill the elves that were here?" Matthew asked. "No," Olaf replied. "They slaughtered us, took our steel. Brought it to the elven camp. Tricked us. Tricked the elf. Now she thinks that we are to blame."

"So all these people died over a misunderstanding?" Anders asked, horror dripping from his voice. "Maker, that's horrible! We have to find her, tell her she's wrong."

"The dark ones are curious about you, too. They watch you as well as her. Can't you sense them?" Olaf asked. He was right; Matthew could sense darkspawn nearby, though they were too far away for him to tell exactly where they were.

Matthew paused, and then whispered, "This disease will kill you, you know." Olaf shook his head. "Am already dead…..already gone. Make….make an end, please…" Nodding, Matthew took his knife from his belt, whispered an apology to the poor man, and then drove the blade into the man's skull, killing him instantly. Matthew was still for a moment, then pulled the knife from the man's head, closed his eyes, crossed his arms across his chest, and stood up.

And immediately became aware of the fact that his Warden Sense was screaming at him.

Turning around, he saw no less than fifteen darkspawn, weapons drawn, and waiting for them.

Shouting a warning to Nathaniel, Oghren and Anders, Matthew grabbed the handle of the Summer Sword, hopping his lack of foresight hadn't doomed them all.