[Talita da Motta writes with her own hand the answer to the question - what does it mean to be a Templar?]

"Betrayal is the only thing colder than the ocean water off the coast of Fereldan"

[a bit of fluff before the storm...]

Chapter 14: Eye of the Dragon

A day of rest.

Three days out of Gwaren; Bellig had announced that morning. Ivonetta had declared a day of rest and mediation.

Maker help me, I was beginning to like that woman.

Everado kept to himself, which suited me fine.

We were sitting near the bow of the ship, our backs to the forecastle. Juca was reading a book. I was oiling and sharpening my blades. The wind, though cold, ruffled our hair and tugged at our cloaks, but the sun was bright and the air was crisp and … perfect.

I stole a glance at the mage beside me. His green eyes followed the words on the page, and the slight furrowing of his brow conveyed that he was not enjoying everything he was reading. A swirling tattoo crawled up the side of his face, and a gold earring sparkled in one ear. His skin was nearly as dark as mine, but seemed touched with gold here and there. Or maybe that was his eyes?

Eyes that were now looking into mine. He raised an eyebrow, but his lips quirked into a barely-suppressed smile.

"Are you enjoying your view, bonita?" he asked me.

I blushed, and returned to the work in my hands. The honing stone, finer than a whetstone, whispered along the dagger's edge. Maker, I hadn't meant to stare at him! I'd made a vow to protect him, even from myself.

Juca chuckled and closed his book. "It was a boring book, anyway. Here, let me help you," he offered.

"No, that's-" I began, but he reached over and brought my hand over to his lap.

"See, you've been tensing up your hand for hours now, holding these stones…" he chided. He took the stone from my fingers and …

He began to massage my hand.

I wanted to object. I was certainly strong enough to pull my hand away from him. My surprise and protest melted away, however, as his hands cupped mine, his fingers working out a myriad of tiny knots in my hand muscles. His touch was more than that, however; his thumbs slid over my skin in a way that implied …more. It tingled, I was melting inside, a shiver that was not the cold wind climbed through my body.

He smiled and brought my palm to his lips. His tongue touched my skin in a light but lingering, tasting sort of kiss. I gasped! Maker!

"Captain!" A sailor,on the foredeck above us, suddenly called. He could not see us below but his nearness made me jump. I snatched back my hand. My heart was racing and my face was hot with embarrassment.

The sailor, above, however, continued, "Captain, it's another one of those schools – off the port!"

Another sighting. Yesterday, we'd seen the strangest thing ever: A school of giant whales – hundreds of them! No one aboard had ever heard of such a large grouping. They were swimming hard for the northern seas. That was also strange, and unseasonal. The Seadance had had a tricky time of it, tacking clear of the beasts. Some of the larger ones could have easily foundered us if they had gotten too close.

Now a sailor had spotted another.

We scrambled to our feet (I tried to ignore the wobbly feeling in my knees!) and hurried to the portside rail.

"There!" Juca spotted, pointing.

It was a ways off, but there it was: a huge gathering of what looked like dolphins this time. It was massive, churning the water as the creatures swam north, passing us.

As if …running away? Fleeing? It felt unnatural.

The crew was quiet; they didn't like the omen either.

Brellig finally returned to his bellowing, and the dark shadow passed. For the moment.

Later that evening, while we were munching on cheese, bread and some surprisingly good apples, the bosun's whistle sounded sharply.

I blinked. I knew that sequence! "A storm, Juca!"

We rolled up the rest of our meal and went topside. The sun was hazy and low in the west, but it was the southwestern sky that made me stop in my tracks.

A maelstrom hung in the sky ahead of us: bands of swirling black and red, impossibly wide, with flashes of lightning and violence. The waves already had a choppy feel. This storm was as dark and huge as a moving landmass.

We'd never sail clear of it.

Around us, sailors scrambled to "make fast" – securing everything that could be secured. Batten, wax, rope and tar – and the captain had made a decision; we tacked in the direction of the shore. It was a risk, getting closer to Fereldan's rocky shore, but close enough and we'd use the storm anchors.

It was a plan, but …that storm! It loomed unnaturally; the wrath of the Maker against mankind could not have looked more menacing.

In hindsight, it was exactly what it was.

We hurried belowdecks again. I found my traveling pack and wondered where I should store it. Juca went looking for twine and wax paper for his books. I glanced around and dug out the Grand Cleric's scrolls. They were already smartly sealed in a beeswax-soaked leather case. Without much ado, I was able to fashion a makeshift pouch tucked them against my skin under my armor.

Sailors hurried past, and I did not like the open look of fear on their faces. This was no normal storm, we could feel it.

The small white-haired cook said it first. "Why, it's a Blight storm, if ever there was one. Storm from the Fade itself!"

A few of us had gathered around the elderly man. Juca approached just then, putting a hand on my shoulder, he said the cook, "But there has been no blight for 400 years…"

"Aye, lad, but, mark my words, the seas will boil with tainted monsters, and at the center of it all, we'll find the Eye of the Dragon."

I'd heard about that. A tale…

I said, "The vast whirlpool large enough to hold a hundred ships across? It swallowed up an island once, the legend says…"

He brightened. "There's a smart lass! Yes! The Dragon's Eye is in the center of th' thing, Maker as my witness."

"We'll be pulled in!" one of the sailors moaned.

"It leads straight to the bottom of the sea!" said another.

"eyyaha! – there is a way!" Cook interrupted, his old eyes gleaming. "The sea chanty line, it is. Listen: Ye grab the wings of the dragon, and let fly!" He cackled.

Juca glanced at me, I shrugged. I had no idea what he meant. Likely as not, the old man was crazy, but it was decided that we'd take Cook up to the Captain, just in case Brellig had any ideas.

We led him up the stairs. Darkness had closed in around us, and the waves were rough and fierce. The men worked the storm sails.

We were going into the Eye of the Dragon.

Everado stood with Brellig, both men holding the rail as the wind tore at us. While the Cook tried to explain the old sea chanty lines to the captain of the ship, Everado pulled Juca to him roughly. "The captain is worried about lightning in the sails, mage. You'll say up here in case they catch fire."

Juca blinked, speechless. I was not, however. "Knight-Captain, it is too dangerous!" I protested.

Everado sneered, "Magic is to serve man, Trainee."

"Then I will stay with him!"

"Those are NOT my orders! You'll get your arse down below. Now!"

The ship's deck tilted sharply in the rolling seas. I grabbed Juca's arm to steady him. "Let's get to someplace out of the wind!" I said to him.

He nodded. We went back down to the maindeck, and found the door the captain's quarters unlocked. "I think it would be safer for you to wait in here!"

The Bosun stepped out just then, and frowned at us.

"Captain's orders, ser!" I said quickly, over the wind. "We're to stay close in case the sails are hit –"

He nodded.

The rain, sliding at a near horizontal angle, arrived with stinging force. We'd touched the face of the Dragon.

"Get in!" the Bosun ordered us. "Stand watch and Hold Fast!"

The deck pitched again, but the Bosun walked it like he had sticky pads on his feet.

Juca and I slipped inside the door and closed it behind us. The Captain's quarters smelled of oiled wood and beer. Not far from the door, a bench folded down from the wall, with leather hand-holds.

"The Knight-Captain wants you below…" Juca began, as we took hold.

"The Knight-Captain is trying to get you killed!" I growled back.

The Seadance pitched sharply again. Men yelled out there, in the gale. I'd been uncharitable from the start; these were good sailors, all, and the Seadance was a tough bird of a ship.

"Perhaps," Juca shrugged, "But he may have something worse in mind for you, bonita."

Worse than death, I thought?

The ship jarred and pulled as huge wave washed over the deck. Lightning flashed violently.

"It's too dangerous, now…" I countered, "and, didn't the Bosun say I had to keep an eye on you?"

Juca feigned astonishment that I would sully my honor with a lie, but to me, it did not seem like a breach of honor at all. Everado was my commanding officer, true, but he was going against nearly all that I had been taught; I could not obey him simply for the sake of being obedient. It wasn't in me. In a better world, a world where my mother had not been murdered by pointy-eared religious fanatics, I would have become the captain of my own ship. I would be making my own rules.

The ship groaned, and cracked. More shouting, the crackle of lightning, deafening thunder, and the roar of the rain like millions of tiny diamond hammers surrounded us. The door slammed open, blowing in the wind and freezing rain. Two sailors dragged a third. "He fell from the mast arm-" one of them explained.

We helped drag the poor man inside. Through the open door I could hear Captain Brellig's strong, fierce voice, commanding his men.

A second later lightning danced all about the deck. The ship shuddered and the air reeked of ozone. I tried to blink away the intense white that had burned into my eyesight. I was nearly blind.

Juca stepped past the unfortunate sailor and looked out. "The sail is on fire!"

And he stepped out into that hell.

"By Andraste's Flaming …! Juca! Wait!" I shouted, leaping up after him. Or where I thought he had been.

The stormsail was burning fitfully. It was too high up! I caught up with Juca at the mast ladder. "Juca, no! It will put itself out, in this rain."

Before he could answer, half the ocean came down on our heads. It was shockingly, painfully cold. Somehow, I sensed Juca sliding past me, as the ship was nearly on her beams; laying to her side while she fought to right herself.

The seawater sluiced past us and found myself holding some barrel netting with one hand, and Juca's wrist with another.

We tried to get to our feet, but another wave caught us. I held on as I felt the sea trying to pull Juca way from me.

You can't have him! I wanted to shout at the sea. At the Maker. At anyone who would listen.

I was getting numb, however. It was time to move! I tried to get us both up, we had to get back to shelter!

Everado's form was the last I thought I would find. He stood over me, the lightning overhead revealing his cold expression. "I commend your souls to the Maker," I heard him say.

"No!"

The next wave washed us, I had to hold on! I had to-!

A metal boot connected with my head. And again. A third time, and everything went black and cold.

Sorry so long! I may edit more out to give this a better feel.

Please review! TY!