Another spring arrived, and still the Packleader had not returned. Alpha, the one who'd come and wore the Packleader's helm, had suggested planting a tree for him. Badger had snarled most fiercely at the notion. Skyhunter agreed. Whatever scent the Packleader had followed to take him from them must be important, and he would return when he'd taken down his prey.

Until then, she had a hunt of her own.

#

Nida had wanted to be the wife of a lord. Salons, fine cloths, visits to the theater. She married the wrong de Blanc. His father was proud of the son that had become a chevalier. Then came the day the cinch on his brother's saddle had broken. A weakness in the leather, the groom had said, but Thibault had convinced himself that it had been an attempt on his life. A favored younger son seeking to usurp the birthright of the elder. That it was untrue changed nothing.

They'd found the stolen sword in his belongings. Thibault had stacked the deck against him nicely. His brother had offered him the opportunity to make a formal confession and apology. Charges would be dropped, but with his honor thus tainted, he'd no longer be a chevalier, and no longer a threat to his brother's position. He could demand a trial, and risk execution in addition to far worse dishonor. His brother would have been satisfied with either choice.

So he'd gone to the Wardens. The Commander of the Grey had leaped at the chance to add a chevalier to their ranks, and it was still a chance to serve, to make the world a better place.

He wished the best for Nida. He hadn't regretted his decision in years.

The Order of Vigilance had built a gauntlet of their own. The spinning pillars were painted with fanciful and frightening images of darkspawn, courtesy mainly of Orliv. Some of the new recruits to the Silver Order, cubs as Skyhunter called them, were running the gauntlet to the laughter of the veterans. Two ended up sprawled in the mud, and came up cursing good-naturedly. As per tradition, they immediately began trying to shake off as much mud as possible onto the onlookers.

Orliv laughed. "Is that the way they do it in Orlais?"

Keenan deliberately thickened his accent. "In Orlais, we have a concept known as dignity." He stuck his nose in the air as he spoke.

"Dignity... dignity..." Orliv shook his head. "Sounds like shemlen nonsense to me, lethallin."

#

"So, a werewolf, a chevalier, a templar, and a dalish walk into a bar..." Orliv glanced at them. "No laugh? Not even a smile. Tough crowd."

Skyhunter just shook her head as she led her little pack into the tavern. She scanned the crowd. "The contact was supposed to meet us here."

At the back of the tavern, a guard looked up and saw them. He walked over. "Senior Warden Skyhunter?"

"Yes."

"Come with me, please?"

She followed him into a back room. "You came to meet with Jakob?"

"He reported darkspawn."

"Aye, and the report must have been accurate. He succumbed to the taint two days ago." The guardsman handed them a roll of parchment. "Sketched this for you, before he died. Map of where he saw them. He was pretty delirious at the end."

"What did he say?" Orliv asked.

"He was crazy. Said the darkspawn had actually rescued him from the monsters. That it talked. Apologized for tainting him, even. Said the Wardens had to know." The guard shook his head. "Like I said, crazy."

"We will look into this."

The guard nodded, and then left the room. Skyhunter turned to the others.

"Talking darkspawn?" Orliv shook his head. "Architect's people, or something worse?"

"We will send a raven back to the Vigil, and then go find out," Skyhunter said.

#

The two mabari ranged slightly ahead as they went deeper into the swamp. Despite Magpie's best efforts and worst jokes, Flamekeeper's face remained set in grim lines. She watched him from the corner of her eye. This place was the hall of his greatest failure, and none of the victories of the past few years had taken that weight from his shoulders.

A brush at the edge of her senses. She glanced at Magpie, and the Dalish elf nodded. He nocked an arrow to his bow. Her mate and Flamekeeper immediately drew their own weapons. They moved in slowly. She could sense only the one. It remained where it was, even as they came closer. It was watching them. Something about it tickled her memory. Magpie drew back his bowstring and began to take aim.

"Hold." He glanced at her, but obeyed. She took a few steps forward, taking care not to block his shot. "Messenger."

"Wardens. You have come." It gave her a small bow. "I am being pleased by this. The danger, it is being great."

"Skyhunter?" Her mate's voice held confusion.

"This is the one that came to Amaranthine," Skyhunter said. "It helped during the fighting." She narrowed her eyes. "He let you live."

"Yes. He let this one return to the Architect. But this one is wishing to help the Wardens."

Magpie let down the bowstring, but kept the weapon at hand. "The man you sent to Lothering died."

"This one feared that would happen. We were being wounded in the fighting, and blood splattered." The Messenger turned, and gestured deeper into the swamp. "The danger is growing. We must be moving quickly."

Skyhunter turned, and looked over the faces of her pack. Her mate nodded to her. Flamekeeper looked less certain, but nodded as well. Magpie shrugged. She turned back to the darkspawn. "Show us."

#

Her world had been rocked several times over the course of her life, but the past few years had given her several fundamental truths. She had a pack. She had a purpose. Keenan loved her. And Magpie's jokes weren't funny.

Sitting at the fire, watching a darkspawn laugh uproariously at something the Dalish elf said disturbed her on several levels.

"Why was six afraid of seven?" the Dalish man asked.

"I am not knowing." The Messenger leaned forward in anticipation of the punch line.

"Because seven ate nine."

The Messenger slapped his knees as he laughed. "It is being funny because it is counting!"

"Maker save us," Flamekeeper muttered.

Her mate was fighting to keep a straight face. "I don't know. I think it's almost sweet."

"Are all Orlesians dropped on their heads when they are children?" Flamekeeper asked.

"Just those of noble birth." Her mate smiled. "It's traditional."

"What do you call an Orlesian prisoner going down the stairs?"

"I am not knowing." The Messenger grinned eagerly.

"A condescending con descending."

The darkspawn almost howled with laughter. "It is being funny because the words sound the same!"

"I am going to sleep." Skyhunter glanced across the fire. "Before I drown them both."

#

Four days of trekking through the swamp brought them to dry land, much to Keenan's relief. Twice the false leg had almost been pulled off by the mud. The Messenger stopped them before they got far. "She is placing wards, setting traps. Too far, and she will know."

Skyhunter signaled the mabari to stay close. "She?"

"The mage."

"You didn't say anything about a mage," Emory said.

"She is being the demon summoner."

Keenan glanced at Emory, saw the same question in the former templar's eyes. "Did you see this mage?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Describe her," Emory said, clenching his fists.

The Messenger considered a moment. "She is being an elf. This tall." He held out a hand to indicate height. "Dark hair."

"Emory?"

The man looked down at his fists, and forced himself to unclench them before meeting Keenan's eyes. "It could be her."

Skyhunter growled. "We will brace her in her lair."

Emory's smile was cold. "Yes. We will."

#

Rather than worry about bypassing or deactivating the wards and alerting her that way, they simply had the Messenger set them off. Wandering darkspawn were not uncommon in the Wild, and thus he was a threat she was more likely to simply dismiss.

It was half a day before they reached the ruins.

"June lasa enansal, would you look at that..." Orliv said.

"Incredible." Emory looked over the ruins. "I know scholars who would give their right arms to be standing here."

Keenan nodded. "After we clear the place of trouble, let's send them a letter. A little more prestige for the Wardens never hurt."

They crept in closer. Skyhunter gestured for the others to wait, and she and Orliv went deeper in.

He glanced at Emory. The man was clearly on edge. "You alright?"

Emory sighed. "If it is her..." He shook his head. "She cost eighteen good men their lives. And Darius..." He hung his head. "His mother died three months ago."

"You didn't tell us that."

The man's quiet laugh was bitter. "The last time I spoke to my sister, she hurled a statue at me and told me I should have died instead. She was right." He sighed. "Had I been in my right mind..."

A brush to the edge of his senses told him the others were returning. Skyhunter came first, followed a pace later by Orliv. "Well?"

"We counted thirty," Skyhunter said. "May be more we did not see."

"It's a blasted cult."

"Dragon worshipers?" Keenan asked.

"I saw no dragons," Skyhunter replied. "But some of them carried staffs."

"Might be in over our heads," Orliv said.

They heard a twig snap, and four men came through the brush. The men looked at the Messenger, and then their eyes went to the wardens. Confusion dawned on all their faces. Then they drew their blades.

Keenan drew his own blade. "Too late now."

#

They left the bodies concealed beneath the brush, and moved to a different location. Magpie spotted a way into the ruins, and they moved in. A damaged staircase took them into a lower level. Flamekeeper peered at some of the faded carvings. "These ruins are elven, then?"

Magpie nodded. "We should have brought Warden-Constable Brehan. He might actually know what this is supposed to be," he said, gesturing at the carving.

Skyhunter bent, peering at the marks. "A war?"

"Plenty to choose from," Orliv said.

The Messenger led them further in. Lighteye gave a low warning growl, and they immediately ducked further into the shadows. Four armored men and a mage passed by in the corridor, carrying a torch. Skyhunter gave the signal.

Magpie's arrow dropped the mage in his tracks. She went left, with her mate, while Flamekeeper and Messenger went right. When it was done, they dragged the bodies out of the corridor and stacked them in one of the rooms they'd passed.

"Continue in?" Magpie asked.

She nodded.

#

She heard her mate let out a string of curses in Orlesian. Magpie echoed him in elvish. Flamekeeper only stared in silence. The Messenger moved forward into the room, bending to examine one of the strange contraptions. The coppery smell of blood and the sickly sweet odor of rotting flesh filled the room.

The body on the table looked like nothing she'd ever seen before. She glanced at the others. Flamekeeper nodded at it. "An abomination. One fully gone to the demon."

She bent down and sniffed at it. The blood smelled wrong. She looked at the scene. "It was alive when they started cutting it apart," she said.

"Maker," Flamekeeper said. "They... vivisected an abomination?" He shook his head. "Who would do such a thing?" He blinked. "Who could do such a thing?"

"I'm slightly more concerned with 'why would they do such a thing'," her mate said. She had to agree. She'd seen what happened when Justice and the laughing healer had become broken. While she hadn't cared for the men who'd died that day, she cared even less for the idea it had been two of her friends who had killed them.

After counting the pieces strewn about, she growled. "Not just one abomination. Enough parts to make three."

"As if our nightmares weren't bad enough already," Magpie said.

The Messenger gestured at a desk. "They were studying."

"Any idea what?" Flamekeeper asked.

"Some of this looks similar to the notes the Architect took when he examined the Wardens."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw her mate freeze. He didn't talk about what had been done to him, but she knew he still dreamed of it sometimes. He'd been the only survivor. She growled.

The Messenger moved the notes on the table. "I do not understand this."

Her mate closed his eyes, and then went to the desk. He began looking over the notes. After a few minutes, he shook his head, then gathered the notes and put them into his pack. "As near as I can tell, whoever did this had two goals. Unlocking something, and creating some kind of host that could be controlled. It's... a lot of madness." He shook his head.

"Can we get out of the room of crazy now?" Magpie asked.

#

They found another of the labs not much further in. As bad as the last room had been... Skyhunter found herself wanting to find the person responsible and tear their throat out. With her teeth.

"Children." Flamekeeper sounded sick. "These were children."

Magpie started to say something, then moved to the corner and began vomiting. Gwendoline whimpered as she nudged the hand of one of the dead children.

"I..." her mate swallowed. "I count four."

"This one was changing," the Messenger was standing by another small corpse.

"They all were," Skyhunter said. The face of what had once been a little boy was starting to twist and mar, taking on the shape of the creatures from the other room.

"Abominations. Someone was trying to turn children into abominations." Flamekeeper punched the wall. "This... oh, Maker's breath."

"Summoning demons into children..." Her mate shook his head. "And then slaughtering them when they turned?"

She narrowed her eyes. The wolf was humming in her ears now. "They need to die." She turned to the Messenger. "Did you know about this?"

"I was knowing she summoned demons, and that children were being staken from the Chasind." The Messenger put a hand on his sword. "I was not knowing of this. I would have been asking for more soldiers."

#

Orliv stepped back to them. "There's one man in the room ahead, but no clear shot."

Skyhunter nodded. "We could send the hounds, let them get between him and the next passage, then grab him before he can give the alert."

"And question him," Keenan said. "I want to know what the hell they think they are doing."

She signaled the dogs, then moved in quietly. The man was behind a shelf, his back to them. They had almost reached him when something must have given them away. The man moved, flinging the book he was holding and striking Orliv in the face. Blood spurted from the elf's nose as he staggered.

Lighteye and Gwendoline snarled at the man from their position, and the man went for his sword. He parried Skyhunter's initial sweeping blow, then kicked a chair into her legs. It didn't trip her, but it did slow her enough that he was able to duck back behind a pillar. The Messenger began to circle around towards Skyhunter's side, while he and Emory moved in the opposite direction, surrounding the man. They came around the pillar to find... nothing.

"Where did..." Emory started to ask.

Something thudded behind him. Before Keenan could turn, something had hold of his armor and yanked him back. A blade was pressed against his throat. "Move and he..." The voice cut off. A moment later, the voice spoke again, sounding confused. "Uncle?"

Emory looked white as a sheet. "Darius?"