So! NaNoWriMo was a great success, and netted me six complete (and messy) chapters of Unseen Forces. I'm slowly cleaning them up and making them presentable, and I'll post them as I'm done with each.

The sound of shouting could be heard through the door—the one that Anders and Oghren currently had their ears against. It was a similar stance that they had taken a few months before, when Nathaniel Howe had been put through the Joining. By the sound of things, this wasn't nearly such a "pleasant" occasion.

Gideon Cousland was a fury to be reckoned with when he got angry, and Mistress Woolsey was the unfortunate victim today.

Anders was secretly glad of that—he was still sore about the argument he and Gideon had gotten into regarding Nathaniel the other day. As far as Anders was concerned, Gideon was completely in the wrong, and Anders had been justified in arguing back to his commander and then leaving his post. Well . . . maybe not completely justified, but Gideon shouldn't have brought the subject up in the first place. Anders had offered a muttered apology the next morning only because he knew things would be easier that way, and he was sure Gideon realized that, though he accepted the apology graciously.

Anders' and Oghren's eavesdropping on the heated argument was interrupted when Sigrun came downstairs.

"What are you two doing?" she asked, amused.

Anders shushed her. "We're listening to the Commander lay into our good Mistress Woolsey."

"Aye," Oghren agreed. "Gideon's lettin' her have it, and good."

Sigrun sidled between them and stuck her own ear against the door. "Letting her have it for what?"

"We're not exactly sure," Anders admitted. "We only just got here, and we can't really hear what all the shouting's about."

Sigrun rolled her eyes. "Guess we better find out." Ignoring Anders' protests, she pushed the door open and walked in. Anders and Oghren hurried after her, though they made sure to stay well back. If the Commander yelled about them interrupting, Anders wanted to be as far away from Sigrun as possible. Well, as far away as possible while still being in the room—he was not about to miss this for the world.

Gideon Cousland was sitting on the throne, body upright and tense, rather than his usual lazy posture.

"You are the most selfish, conceited, ignorant women I have ever met!" he shouted at Mistress Woolsey, who was standing in front of him. "How dare you stand there and tell me what my job is?"

"All I am saying, Warden-Commander, is that we need to get trade flowing," Woolsey said, clearly angry but trying to sound reasonable. "The Wardens' coffers are empty—we need the money. And the only way to get that is to clear the Highway of bandits so that the merchants can get through."

Gideon looked at her with disgust. "Oh yes, filling the coffers with gold is obviously much more important than the darkspawn threat," he sneered, "but I really couldn't give a shit less if we have money or not; the Wardens aren't here to make a profit."

"You may not care about money, but I can assure you that the soldiers protecting the Keep do!" Mistress Woolsey proclaimed. "As do all of the other workers, the ones who expect to be paid for their services. Do you think the kitchen pantry is magically stocked by elves every night? That the walls will rebuild themselves? We need money to run the Keep!"

The Commander shook his head angrily. "Bandits have always been a nuisance, and they always will be. Short of setting up guards every mile along the entire Imperial Highway we're never going to get rid of them. There are more important things at stake—things like darkspawn. The monsters that are invading peoples' farmsteads and destroying the land. We need to put a stop to them before we deal with a handful of bandits who are keeping you from buying yourself some new knickers."

Woolsey threw up her hands. "There is no winning with you, I see. You are every bit as stubborn as they said you would be."

The Warden-Commander actually grinned at that. "Oh, I'm sure I'm much worse than they said. I've always been given a better reputation than I deserve."

Anders stifled a laugh. Given all of the things he had heard about Gideon Cousland over the past year, and the things he had seen of the man himself over the past few months, he had to agree. The "Hero of Ferelden" sung about in ballads and written about in books was practically a saint compared to the actual man. Not that Gideon was a bad man, it was simply that the heroes in stories were always more impressive than the real thing. The ballads talked about the Warden being strong and imposing, impressive and intimidating—and all of those things were true; but they never said anything about his short temper or his lack of patience for people who didn't agree with him—or how he could be a complete arse if he didn't get his way. Which was probably for the best—people needed heroes.

Woolsey had left off shouting, and was trying to reason with the Commander once again. "You are the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan Grey: it is your duty to make sure—"

Gideon's eyes narrowed into slits, and when he spoke his tone was icy cold. "Don't you daretell me what my duty is as a Grey Warden—you have no say about a Warden's duties.

"We fight darkspawn. We stay vigilant. We give our lives to try and rid the world of Blights for good. Those are our duties. And those are the ones I am going to carry out, no matter what." He took a deep breath, calming himself. "As I'm sure you've noticed, I didn't mention bandits anywhere in there."

"Commander. Please." Woolsey looked at him imploringly. "All I am doing is asking you to go and look. What if it is more than just common bandits? There have been a lot of rumors coming in from near the Wending Wood, none of them good."

The Commander thought for a full minute, drumming his fingers on the arm of the throne. Finally he nodded. "All right, fine. If it'll get you off my back I'll go look." He glared at Woolsey's triumphant smile. "Don't think you've won, though. I'm not going to let myself be cowed by you. You said it yourself: I am the Warden-Commander here. I call the shots."

Woolsey bowed her head deferentially. "Yes, Commander. I understand completely." Anders noticed the tiny smile still curving her lips as she turned to leave. That woman was something else.

oOoOo

It was on the outskirts of the Wending Wood that the Wardens began seeing signs of something more serious than Gideon had surmised. Broken wagons, smashed crates, and other assorted detritus lined the path.

"This is not the work of a few bandits," Nathaniel said grimly.

Gideon nodded his head. "Looks like I underestimated the situation." He growled irritably. "I should have known better."

Anders shrugged. "Well, you have been a bit preoccupied lately. You know—killing darkspawn, finding lost dwarven fortresses, single-handedly rebuilding the Wardens. You can't think of everything."

Oghren, who was walking on the Commander's left side, slapped Gideon on the back. "Sparklefingers is right. Ya can't be expected to know everything that's gonna happen." He chuckled. "You already saved the world once; most people'd think that was enough."

Gideon reached out and shoved at Oghren's shoulder. "I'm not trying to save the world. I'm just trying to keep people safe." He was silent for a few moments. "Woolsey was right, in a way. I'm not fulfilling my duties."

Oghren shoved back companionably. "Yer gonna let that old biddy tell ya what to do? She doesn't know a soddin' thing about being a Warden."

"No, she doesn't," Gideon agreed. "But I'm not just the Warden-Commander—I'm the Arl of Amaranthine as well. I have a duty to keep my people safe."

"Killin' darkspawn's the best way to do that, I reckon," Oghren said.

"Oghren's right," Nathaniel agreed quietly. "These are your lands to protect, your people; but none of that will survive if we don't defeat the darkspawn."

Judging by the way that Gideon stopped walking and looked back at Nathaniel, he was just as surprised as Anders was by the comment. It was, as far as Anders knew, the first time that Nathaniel had acknowledged that Amaranthine belonged to Gideon. Anders smiled to himself, knowing how much it must have taken the rogue to be able to finally come to terms with that.

Gideon bowed his head towards Nathaniel, silently thanking him for the show of support. He turned to face forward, heading into the Wood once more.

Though all of them were keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings, it was Gideon who saw the burned out wagon first, and the handful of men who were picking through the wreckage. As soon as the bandits saw the four Wardens approaching they dropped what they had been gathering and ran off.

As Anders and the others drew closer to the ruined wagon, the stench of burnt wood and decayed flesh became nearly unbearable. Bodies were strewn among the wreckage, and it was immediately clear that none of them had died from the fire. One man was impaled on a large spear; others looked as if they had been mauled by some type of wild animal—their faces were covered with deep slash marks caked with blood, and the thick leather armor they wore had long tears which looked like they'd been made by sharp claws. It reminded Anders of the ogre that had attacked Nathaniel. Others were just . . . dead—not a visible mark anywhere on their bodies. One unfortunate soul had been decapitated, his head nowhere in sight. A hysterical urge to make a joke about "losing his head" bubbled up inside Anders, but luckily he was able to hold his tongue.

"This definitely isn't the work of bandits," Gideon said angrily. "These men were murdered, and it wasn't for the goods they were carrying."

Anders pointed in the direction that the men had run. "What about them?"

Gideon shook his head. "They didn't have anything to do with this. If they'd really killed all of these men, they wouldn't have been scared off by us. They were scavengers, nothing more."

"Stealing from the dead," Nathaniel spat. "That hardly makes them innocent."

"I didn't say they were innocent," Gideon replied, "just that they didn't murder these men." He pointed to several weapons lying on the ground and clenched in some of the dead men's hands. "These aren't bandits, they're soldiers. Well-outfitted, by the looks of things."

Oghren toed at a still-burning piece of wood with his steel-tipped boot. "Darkspawn?"

Gideon looked around. "Maybe. I don't think so, though. Darkspawn destroy everything in their paths. The destruction here was limited to the caravan. The wagons and goods have been burned to a crisp, the soldiers all dead—but look at everything else." He gestured to the pristine land surrounding the wagons. "Darkspawn destroy everything in their paths. If they were going to set fires, they'd try to burn the whole forest down."

Anders looked at the bodies strewn across the ground. "I suppose that's slightly comforting. Not that comforting, though." He finally spotted the decapitated head lying several yards away. "Not at all, actually."

"We should keep going," Nathaniel said.

Unfortunately, the scavengers had not completely fled the area, and they seemed to have gained their courage after meeting up with a few friends less than a half mile from the site of the wreckage. A note found on one of them (slightly torn by the sword that Gideon had stuck in the man's chest) indicated that the men had been hired to clear out a clan of Dalish elves who reportedly had been causing trouble for the caravans traveling through the Wending Wood.

"So . . . elves caused all this?" Anders asked.

"I guess . . ." Gideon said skeptically. "That doesn't make any sense either, though. Dalish are pretty peaceful unless they're being outright threatened by humans. Even then, they usually just move on rather than get into a direct conflict."

"So are they the bad guys or not?" Anders asked impatiently. He didn't want a stupid mystery to solve—he wanted to kill whatever, or whoever, they needed to kill and get out of this place as soon as possible. He hated the outdoors almost as much as he hated the Deep Roads; forests like this were full of dirty, filthy creatures; poisonous plants; tiny bugs that seemed determined to make a feast of anyone they encountered; among other nefarious, outdoorsy things. He was certain that during their short time here he had seen several different bushes rustle ominously, and one or two cries of wild animals in the far distance. Who knew what kinds of beasts were actually lurking in this place? There could be bears, or wolves . . . poisonous snakes, maybe. Or spiders. Big ones. He shuddered at the thought of giant, mabari-sized, spiders crawling around, waiting to jump out and devour them all.

Anders was busy peering into the bushes as Gideon talked with Nathaniel about the nature of elves. Anders spotted something moving up ahead and pointed his finger at it.

"Is that really a tree beating the crap out of that guy," Anders asked, "or should I not have eaten those berries I found this morning?" He noticed that the tree's roots were loose upon the ground and that it was actually walking around. Well, stomping more like. Anders winced as it stomped on one of the bandit's companions, flattening him in an interesting, yet terminal way.

Nathaniel's bow was already taut in his hands and he loosed an arrow straight at the tree—to absolutely no effect. The animated tree (or sylvan, as Anders had once heard them referred to in a lecture) did not even notice the sharp arrow that was now lodged in its trunk. It noticed Oghren's large axe swinging at it full-force, though.

As Oghren hacked at the tree, Gideon and Nathaniel fought the bandits who had taken advantage of the sylvan's distraction to attack the Wardens. Anders saw two more trees lumber towards the group of fighting men and he prepared a fireball to hurl at one of them—until he saw that it was already on fire. He switched to an ice spell and hurled it at the sylvan, freezing it in place.

Sylvans were fairly rare, usually only existing in places where the Veil was thin. They had once been ordinary trees that had been possessed by a vengeful spirit. Why a spirit would possess a tree, Anders had no idea. Presumably there hadn't been many other choices available at the time they'd entered the mortal world after escaping the Fade.

If Anders remembered right, they were extremely jealous of other living things, presumably because they were stuck for all of eternity inside of a damned tree. Anders suspected he would be quite cranky, too, if he were in a similar position.

Regardless of what kind of mood the things were in, they seemed to be extremely resilient to damage. Though Oghren was doing a passable imitation of a woodcutter, the sylvan he was fighting was still standing—and still punching at anything that got in its way.

The bandits were easy to take down in comparison to the sylvans, and it was not long before all of the Wardens were concentrating their efforts on the two remaining sylvans. The one that Oghren had been so diligently working on had finally been cut down, but the others, with their fiery branches, were harder to deal with. In the end, it was Anders' offensive magic that did the most damage, and he sent shards of ice and blasts of lightning at them until they were completely destroyed.

Sweating profusely and panting, Gideon swiped at his sweat-covered brow and grinned at Anders. "Nice job. Good to know you're useful for more than healing."

Anders took it for the compliment that it was meant to be and laughed. "I am a man of many talents, I'll have you know."

"I'll have to remember that." Gideon looked down at the carnage around them. "We just beat the hell out of three murderous trees. I don't know what's going on here, but it seems like there's some kind of magic involved."

Anders thought about that. "It's possible, I suppose. Not sure what a mage's motivation for all of this would be."

Gideon shrugged. "If they're blood mages they don't really need a motivation."

"Apostate doesn't equal maleficar," Anders reminded him stiffly. "You know that as well as anyone."

"I know that," Gideon said calmly. "I'm just tossing out ideas."

"It could just be the result of hedge wizard who was never properly trained in his magic," Anders mused as they started along the broken dirt path again. "Or just a series of weird coincidences?"

"I don't believe in coincidences," Gideon replied. "There have been reports of trouble in the Wending Wood for months, but that didn't seem like anything special—bandits have always been a problem along the Imperial Highway. But destroyed caravans and attacking trees? That wasn't in any of the reports I've seen; and I'm pretty sure Woolsey would've mentioned it."

They were climbing uphill now, passing large groves of thankfully normal trees.

"I think there was, or maybe still is, a Dalish clan camped here," Gideon said musingly. "And I think the regular travelers along this route were uneasy about it. So they put in a bunch of complaints about there being trouble, and maybe there was—especially if the human caravaneers tried to push the Dalish out. But I doubt they were causing any major trouble.

"Whatever's going on now is probably connected to that, but for some reason the ante's been upped. This is more than the usual skirmish between humans and elves—there's something sinister going on here."

As if to prove his point, a bandit came hurtling down the path, a look of terror on his face.

"Out of my way!" He shouted, clearly panicked by something. "I've got to get out of here!"

He tried to push past them, but Gideon pressed a hand to the man's chest, holding him back. "What's going on?"

"It's that crazy elf! She's trying to kill me!"

"Why?" Gideon asked sharply. "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing!" the man protested. "We didn't do nothing wrong, I swear! Me and my men, we heard about all the attacks. We came to check it out, see if we could do anything to, uh . . . help."

Nathaniel made a sound of disgust. "You mean you came here to steal from the bodies of innocent people who had been murdered."

The bandit looked at Nathaniel peevishly. "Well, they weren't using the stuff, were they? And if we didn't take it, you can be sure someone else would have. We're just trying to make a living," he whined, "didn't none of my friends deserve what she did to them!"

A loud cracking sound made the man jump. "It's her. I'm getting out of here. If you're smart, you will too!" He ducked away from Gideon and ran off.

There was another loud crack, and a woman appeared on a low overhang next to them. An elf, dressed in mage's robes. "You shouldn't be here," she growled.

Gideon peered up at her. "Why not? Seems to me like we have as much right to be here as you do." He sounded casual, but Anders saw him tighten his grip on his sword.

The elf glared at him. "You are not going to drive me from here! The other shems couldn't do it, and neither could the darkspawn. You won't fare any better than them!"

"So there are darkspawn here," Gideon said, not surprised. "Did they do all this?"

"Of course not," the woman scoffed. "The shem merchants stole my sister! They murdered my clan and then took her from me! Those caravans were only the beginning. If I don't get Seranni back I will burn this whole forest down! I will kill every last shem I see!" Her eyes turned dark as she raised her hands. "Including you!"

A flurry of branches shot up from the ground, hiding the elf from sight. With her departure, the forest around them erupted as two or three sylvans stomped into view to attack the Wardens. Nearly a dozen feral wolves charged in to assist in the attack, snarling and biting at the air. Gideon and the others drew their weapons in defense.

Once everything was dead, Gideon sheathed his sword and swore loudly for several minutes, cursing anything and everything to do with forests: trees, animals—not even the uneven ground was safe from his verbal onslaught. The others just stood and watched, waiting for him to calm down.

"Well," he finally said, "at least we know what caused all of this."

"She was a mage for sure," Anders said, "but I've never heard of a school of magic that could call up wild animals and make trees animate."

"She said the merchants took her sister," Nathaniel said. "Why would they do something like that?"

"Maybe to get the rest of the elves to leave?" Oghren asked.

Gideon shook his head. "I don't think so. I think the darkspawn are responsible for this."

"Why would they kill all of the elves save for one?" Anders asked.

Gideon gave him a dark look. "She was a female elf. Remember Kal'Hirol? The Broodmothers?"

Anders shivered. "Oh. Right."

"We need to find her," Gideon said. "Figure out what's going on."

They traveled on for quite a ways, but did not see any sign of her. Or anyone else, for that matter. Which made Anders nervous. The letter they'd found had implied that a large group of soldiers had been dispatched to get rid of the Dalish, yet there had been no sign of them. Nor of any more bandits, or even darkspawn. Maybe they'd all been run off by the crazy elf.

It was not long before they found out that this was not the case at all. There was a large pit dug into the ground, and dozens of bodies lying in it. Nathaniel knelt down, his eyes scanning the ground.

"These men didn't die here," he said. "Look at these markings." He pointed to several long grooves. "They were killed elsewhere and then dragged here."

"The elf," Oghren said. "Looks like she's been pretty busy."

A loud groan issuing from behind a nearby bush startled all of them. Gideon cautiously crept forward, the others close behind him. A man was lying on the ground, clearly wounded, but that was not the worst part: he had been tainted by darkspawn. His eyes were sunken, and his blackened skin was stretched taut over his bones—he looked like he hadn't eaten for days, maybe even weeks. When he opened his mouth to speak, Anders saw that his teeth were stained with blood.

"Help me," the man said feebly, "please."

Gideon knelt down next to him. "What happened?"

"Darkspawn. We came—we came after the elf . . . mayor said to get rid of her—" his words were cut off by a fit of coughing. Nathaniel pulled out his flask of water and uncapped it, silently handing it to the man. He was so weak that Gideon had to hold it to his mouth as he took a long sip, water dribbling down his chin.

"Thank you," he rasped, voice a little stronger. "The mayor sent us to get rid of the elf; she'd been causing all sorts of trouble. We tried, but then the darkspawn set on us. They – they killed my friends. I was wounded . . . my leg . . . couldn't walk." Whatever strength the man had gained from drinking the water was clearly fading. "I . . . I ate them . . . nothing else to eat . . . had to . . ."

Anders' stomach roiled dangerously. No wonder he was so badly tainted—he had eaten the flesh of others who had been killed by darkspawn. Other men; his friends. He swallowed harshly, willing himself not to get sick. One look at Oghren's pale face showed Anders that the dwarf was having the same reaction.

The wounded man began coughing again, but waved off Gideon's offer of more water. The man was obviously dying, though he was trying to hold on until his story had been told. "You have to stop her. Darkspawn . . . the darkspawn are the ones that killed the other elves . . . took our weapons . . . planted them in the elves' camp to trick them."

Anders' eyes widened in horror. "She killed all of those people, just because of a—a misunderstanding? Maker's breath, that's horrible!" He looked at Gideon imploringly. "We have to find her, we have to tell her what happened!"

"We have to put a stop to her," Nathaniel said quietly. Anders looked at the rogue and nodded his head.

"Where did the darkspawn come from?" Gideon asked the soldier.

"From below," he said, voice fading. "They came . . . from beneath." His eyes, filled with agony, focused on Gideon. "Please . . . end this. Quickly . . ."

Gideon nodded his head, and just like with Rolan drew his dagger and slit the soldier's throat cleanly.

All four men were silent as they looked at the dead soldier, and Anders realized there was a distinct difference between this man and Rolan. Though Rolan had been the first person Anders had ever seen infected with the taint, Anders hadn't taken his Joining yet, and so hadn't really understood the full implication of Rolan's condition.

Looking down at this dead man, seeing how his body had been corrupted by the taint—Anders realized the full horror of what the darkspawn could do. There really were worse things than dying, and the proof was lying on the ground in front of him.

"This is going to happen to us one day, isn't it?" he asked quietly.

Gideon looked at Anders grimly as he stood up. "To a certain degree, yes. Alistair told me once that the Wardens are immune to the taint, but we aren't really. The Joining itself taints us, more or less. But it also helps to slow the taint down. During the Blight we had to go to the Deep Roads beneath Orzammar, and we found a dwarf there named Ruck. He was tainted . . . and insane. I'm not sure if that's exactly what will happen to us if we refuse to go on our Calling and let the corruption take us over completely, but it's possible."

Anders shuddered. He had thought dying in the Deep Roads would be the most horrible thing that could happen to him as a Warden. Now the fact that he might not die was even worse. He could understand now why Wardens went down to the Deep Roads when they heard the Calling. If the taint didn't actually kill you, if it just slowly ate away at your body and mind until you became so disfigured and insane that you wound up offing yourself or getting killed by someone else, maybe it was better to just throw yourself at the darkspawn and be done with it. Or end it quickly some other way—on your own terms.

Anders was torn from his grim thoughts by the sight of an arrow whizzing by, inches from his face. He looked at Nathaniel in confusion, only to see that the rogue still had his bow strapped to his back.

"Darkspawn!" Oghren shouted, pulling his axe out and rushing the closest one.

After what he'd just witnessed, Anders was glad to have some darkspawn to take his fear and revulsion out on. The others seemed to be thinking along the same lines as they attacked the darkspawn with zeal.

When the last one was down, Gideon and Oghren set about searching the bodies while Nathaniel collected as many spent arrows as he could find. Gideon finished searching a hurlock and stood up, a necklace dangling from his gloved hand.

"What's that?" Anders asked curiously.

"A locket of some sort." Gideon said, examining it. "Strange thing to find on a darkspawn. It's got a carving of a halla on it."

"Isn't that them deer-like things that the Dalish keep as pets?" Oghren asked.

"Not pets," Gideon said. "The halla are sacred animals to the Dalish."

Nathaniel took the necklace from Gideon and looked at it with interest for a few moments before handing it back. "So it belonged to one of the elves who was here, most likely. Perhaps that woman would be interested in it."

Gideon nodded. "It looks like proof that the darkspawn were involved in their deaths; probably in her sister's disappearance, too."

"Let's hope not," Oghren grunted. "Last thing we need is to kill another broodmother, 'specially an elven one."

Anders looked at Oghren curiously. "Does the race of the female that's turned into a broodmother matter?"

"Aye. Least, that's what the Legion of the Dead say. According to them, broodmothers that were once dwarves make genlocks; human ones make hurlocks; and elves make shrieks, which are a damn pain in the arse. They're tough, and they spend the whole time screaming—like nails on a piece of slate." He shuddered. "There's a rumor that ogres are made when qunari are turned into broodmothers, but I don't know about that one. Qunari don't travel outside of their homeland that much."

"Which might explain why there aren't many ogres around," Gideon said.

Oghren shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe they only ever managed to get ahold o' the one, and ogres just don' die of old age."

Gideon put the necklace into his pack before walking over to Anders and clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Look, all that stuff about the taint?" He looked over at the dead soldier before looking back at Anders, a not-unkind look on his face. "Thirty years is a long time. No use worrying about it right now."

Anders forced himself to smile. "Yeah. Of course. Probably wind up in some darkspawn's belly long before that."

"That's not something to joke about," Nathaniel said, a stern expression on his face.

Anders glanced over at him, that fake smile still frozen on his face. "Everything's something to joke about, Nate. Can't take the world too seriously."

Nathaniel just shook his head before walking off. Gideon gave Anders a comradely slap on the back before following after him.

They made their way towards a large hill almost in the very center of the Wending Wood, upon which stood a ruined stone structure. As they got closer, they could tell that it had recently been used as an encampment by a large group of people—possibly the Dalish clan that had supposedly caused so much "trouble." Several large tents were erected around the clearing, and in the middle was a large fire pit. A variety of weapons—bows, swords, daggers—were scattered about the encampment, with a large pile next to the bodies of a few soldiers.

Off to one side was a row of long mounds of earth with stones placed at the head of each, and standing before them was the elven woman who had slain dozens of innocent men in a misguided attempt at revenge.

Her head was bowed, her hands clasped in front of her. She did not look up when the Wardens approached.

"You will not take me," she said. "I will die first." Finally, she looked up at Gideon, proud chin jutting forward. "Do you hear me? You will never take me alive!" Her hands raised, electricity crackling between her fingers.

Gideon sheathed his weapon and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. "We're not going to take you anywhere, nor are we planning on killing you."

Anders made a noise of protest. "You can't just let her go!"

Gideon turned and gave him a stern look. "Keep out of this, Anders." He turned back to the woman, speaking slowly and carefully. "Those soldiers didn't kill your clan, the darkspawn did."

"Liar!" She shrieked. "Do you think me a fool? Look at those weapons!" She pointed to the pile of well-crafted swords and bows. "Those are shem weapons! Why would darkspawn kill my people? Why would they take Seranni from me?"

Trying not to make any sudden movements that might alarm the elf, Gideon reached into his pack and produced the necklace he had found on the hurlock. He handed it to her. "We found this on one of the darkspawn."

The lightning passing between her fingers disappeared abruptly, and she reached out to snatch the necklace from Gideon. "This—this is Seranni's." She looked up at Gideon. "You found this on a darkspawn?"

Gideon nodded. "They're the ones that did all this."

Tears were welling in the woman's eyes. "I have to get her back. I have to!"

"We will," Gideon said. "My men and I will find—"

"Let me come with you," the elf said. "Please." It was clear by her body language that that one word took a great deal of effort for her to say.

Gideon looked at her long and hard before finally nodding. "All right. So long as you don't get in our way, you can come."

"What?" Anders looked at his commander in shock. "After everything she did? She murdered all those people! She tried to kill us! And you're just going to let her come with us?"

"Yes," Gideon said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Anders gaped at him for a moment, not even sure how to respond. Finally he sighed in defeat. This man was his commander and leader—if Gideon said she was coming, she was coming. There was nothing Anders could say that would change the stubborn man's mind. "No, Commander."

"I'm Velanna," the woman said, ignoring Anders' outburst.

"Gideon Cousland." He introduced the rest of the Wardens to her one by one. "We need to find where the darkspawn are coming from. Usually they keep themselves underground."

"There's a mine not far from here," Velanna said. "It goes deep beneath the earth, but I don't know how far. My people and I stayed well away from it."

Anders looked to Nathaniel, hoping for some sort of protest from the rogue about allowing this Velanna to come along with them. But Nathaniel seemed too busy giving Velanna a long, appreciative look to offer up any sort of complaint. Anders felt a brief pang of jealousy, and chastised himself for it. Anders was obviously reading Nathaniel's expression wrong; probably Nathaniel was just trying to take the measure of Velanna to find any weaknesses she might have, just in case she tried to stab them all in the back. Which was bound to happen sooner or later.

"Where's the mine from here?" Gideon asked; Velanna pointed south. Anders craned his neck and could just make out a large hill in the distance, one that was not visible from their vantage point due to the excess amount of trees and smaller hills in the way.

They set off towards the mine—Gideon and Oghren in the front, followed by Velanna, who was being watched intently by Nathaniel, with Anders bringing up the rear, his eyes on Nathaniel.

It took them a couple of hours to reach the mine, by which point Anders was hot, sweaty, and extremely pissed off. It was obvious now that Nathaniel was flirting—flirting!—with Velanna. And although she rebuked every kind comment directed at her, her eyes strayed to Nathaniel often.

Anders just couldn't believe it. In the many months since Anders had first met the man, he'd seen no indication from Nathaniel that he fancied women. No flirtation with any of the female inhabitants of the Keep, not even an appreciative look. Apparently he was only attracted to women who were likely to murder him in his sleep.

Anders waited until Velanna had moved off to walk by herself before he sidled up to Nathaniel.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" he hissed out of the corner of his mouth, not wanting the others to overhear.

Nathaniel looked over at him curiously. "What exactly do you mean?"

"You're fraternizing with the enemy!"

"What in the Maker's name are you talking about, Anders?"

"I'm talking about that elf," Anders said through gritted teeth. "That evil . . . murderess . . . is obviously planning something."

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. "She's not the enemy—she's an ally. Gideon trusts her."

"Yeah, well, he trusted us, too. And look where that's got him."

"He gained two reliable and skilled Wardens as a result of that trust." Nathaniel smirked. "Gideon's instincts are usually correct, surprising as that might seem."

Anders was surprised by Nathaniel's comment. "You think I'm reliable and skilled?"

Nathaniel smiled at him. "Yes, I do. You've saved all of our lives on more than one occasion. As I said: Gideon chooses his companions well."

"So you don't even care about all the stuff she did here?" Anders asked, refusing to be distracted from the main point of the conversation.

"Of course I care," Nathaniel responded. "But she seems to know this area better than we do, and if the darkspawn really do have her sister, then it's our duty to get her back. Velanna's determination to accomplish that task will surely make her an asset."

"I suppose," Anders said grudgingly. "But I'm still going to keep an eye on her."

And you, he thought, but did not say. Nathaniel had done a good job evading Anders' accusations of flirting with the elf, but Anders was not stupid. Nathaniel fancied her. Just the thought of Nathaniel and Velanna becoming romantic was enough to make Anders feel sick.

If Nathaniel were to become intimate with someone besides her, Anders wouldn't be nearly as upset. It was just the fact that he had his eye on this murderous witch—

No, he could not even lie to himself about this. He would be upset if Nathaniel became involved with anyone. Anyone besides Anders, that was. Which was stupid. Hadn't he just had an argument with Gideon the other night about the fact that Anders had no interest in any sort of committed relationship? And wasn't that the type of thing that someone like Nathaniel would want? Yes, on both counts. But Anders could not imagine that Velanna would want anything to do with Nathaniel. Or, at least he hoped she didn't.

Judging from everything the elf had said about shems (a word that Anders knew was meant to be an offensive term for human), he could not imagine Velanna doing anything but spit in Nathaniel's face. She hadn't, though. Instead she had looked at him . . . well not flirtatiously, but not dismissively either. She had definitely looked interested in what he had to say, even if her words were scornful. But maybe it was just the first time a human had ever been nice to her.

Anders felt a slight pang of empathy at that thought, but he quickly stifled it. No way was he going to let himself feel sorry for her.

Finally they reached the entrance to the mine—a large set of double doors made of marble set into the craggy hill.

"Why does everywhere we go involve being underground?" Anders complained.

"Because we're Wardens," Gideon said curtly, beckoning to Nathaniel to help him get one of the doors open. "We follow darkspawn, and darkspawn live underground. This isn't that hard of a concept to grasp."

Anders huffed, arms crossed. "I know that. But it would be nice if, just once, the darkspawn decided to go invade some tropical island full of nubile young women."

Both Nathaniel and Gideon stopped what they were doing and turned to give Anders flat looks.

"I'm just saying . . ." Anders mumbled.

Nathaniel shook his head and muttered something Anders couldn't hear, but that he was sure was not very flattering. Finally the two men got the door open and beckoned to the others to follow them inside.

The area just inside was wide open, and Anders caught a glimpse of a spiral staircase leading upwards. Suddenly, his vision went blurry and he started to feel extremely dizzy. Panicking, he looked at the others, who seemed to be faring the same as him. Velanna was already lying on the ground, eyes closed, and he watched as Oghren toppled over, hands clutching his head. Gideon was shouting something at Anders, though he could not make out the words—it was as if he was speaking underwater. A word echo up from the darkness, in a voice that did not quite sound human.

"Sleep . . ."

And Anders knew no more, letting the black waves pour over him as he fell down . . . down, into the darkness.