{Written by the hand of Talita da Motta, Knight-Commander of Rivain, during her captivity in the Mage/Templar War, recounting her days as a trainee in the order.}

{to recap: Betrayed by her commanding officer, Talita survives being kicked (literally) off the ship which was taking her to Gwaren. she and the mage in her charge, Juca, have also survived the Blight storm and washed up upon the cold, rocky shores of Ferelden, only to stumble upon a small group of Dalish elves as they loot the remains of a wreck, dispatching the ship's last few survivors in the process...which Talita takes exception to...}

Chapter 17: Diverging Paths

"Talita! No!" Juca lunged after me.

It was too late. My vision tunneled as I ran at the arrogant Dalish with the bloodied blade in his hand. His head had turned at my cry, yet he took the time to slice the second helpless sailor's throat before moving in my direction. The cowardly bastard!

Several arrows narrowly missed my head as his fellow Dalish rallied to his aid.. One arrow plunged into the thick leather padding at my shoulder. The steely arrowhead cut into my muscle, but it wasn't too deep. I didn't care. I ran at the murdering elf.

Behind me, I felt the gathering of magical power, but I could not take the time to turn to see what Juca was doing. My target was faster than I, and he met my charge with a dark and unholy glee in his eyes. "This is where you DIE, Shem!" he spat at me.

All those weeks of training served me well as I parried his attacks and pushed him back. He was faster, I was stronger. Fury fueled my blows. He was not the same elf who lived in my nightmares, but it did not matter. No more elves killing the unarmed. The innocent.

My mother.

A second elf moved into range. She was blonde, with dangerous markings on her face and down her neck. She pulled back her bow, at point-blank range.

I had no shield. It was beginning to be a problem.

Before she could release the arrow into my neck, an avalanche of rock roared past me and slammed into her. She went flying backwards, and landed bloody, and broken.

The elf I fought cried out with rage.

I saw my opening; disarmed him, and ran him through.

His eyes opened wide with disbelief.

I kicked him back off my blade and was already running for the other archers before he fell onto the rocks.

They were firing at Juca. I ran at the trio that had just stepped out of the forest's edge. They switched targets, aiming at me…

And were blasted, frozen solid, by a surge of ice.

I sliced into them with the flat of my blade.

They shattered.

I turned to find my next target…and there were none. Blood, stone and frost was all that was left of them. I blinked, trying to catch my breath. My gaze wandered back to Juca and I gasped. Stone coated his clothing and frost flowed from his hands and his expression…my heart died to see it. There was anger. Rage. Murder.

"Juca?" I called. I moved in his direction. Cold fear for my friend doused the anger that had controlled me moments before.

He closed his eyes and I felt him release the power he was holding. The stone which coated him protectively slithered back into the ground; the frosty mist swirling about his hands dissipated. He did not open his eyes, but seemed to be concentrating on breathing evenly.

I drew near. "Juca?" I asked again.

He still did not answer. My heart skipped several beats. Had he drawn too much power? Was he battling a demon this very moment? Maker, please….

"Why, Talita?" he asked me at last. His voice sounded pained.

I blinked. "Why? Did you not SEE what they did?"

Juca opened his eyes. There was still anger there. And … disappointment?

Before I could continue he took my arm and turned me to look at the battlefield below us. Blood dripped from the rocks. There were so many bodies – the sailors who had died in the storm, the sailors who had died by the elves, and now the elves…While I had kept the swordsman busy, Juca had killed six Dalish with his magic.

"How did this help those men?"

I scowled. "It didn't," I answered roughly, and pulled my arm away. "But it will help the next."

He frowned. I could see that he didn't agree. I turned away and went where the swordsman's body lay in a pool of his own blood. His eyes still stared up into the cloud-covered sky. I…I had taken a life. Something of what bothered Juca began to nibble at my thoughts as I studied the ruined elf lying before me. More than nibble. The blonde woman who had been smashed beneath Juca's spell – who had she been to him? Wife? Sister? Daughter? I closed the Dalish man's eyes, and prayed, too late I knew, for peace on his soul.

The hate which caused him to murder was the same hate which had driven me. Could I call it justice? Really? I wanted to.

Juca stepped beside me, and knelt down. I felt him gather power again. I frowned, what was he-

Old Rivaini words, quietly spoken, with the power of the Fade behind them.

I … almost …felt something. It was strange.

He was moving to the other bodies, repeating the small ceremony. It was nothing I had seen before, certainly wasn't something practiced by the Chantry. I wanted to ask, but something in Juca's body language was not inviting conversation.

I sighed.

While he finished his words for the dead, I examined the sailors. I did not recognize any of their faces. So it was not the Seadance who sat cracked open like an egg out on the rocky breakers. One of the crates from the shipwreck held an Orlesian seal. (Had I understood more about the politics of Ferelden at that time, the presence of Orlesians a few days out from the port of Gwaren would have piqued my curiosity. As it stood, however, ships from Orlais were a common occurrence in my homeland and I did not think anything strange, given the storm we had survived, that a ship for Orlais had wrecked here.)

Juca approached me as I studied the tide which was starting to roll in again. In a few hours, much of this rocky beach would be cleansed. "We need supplies…" he began. I nodded in agreement. It was an understatement; we had barely more than the clothing on our backs. We set to work, searching the bodies of the fallen and some of the cargo that had washed up on the shore from the derelict ship. It was an impressive array of gear, but I began to feel guilty as I collected it. Of course, I hadn't even thought of looting their belongings when I'd attacked the elf. Yet, it seemed dishonest, all the same.

Not too far away from the battle site, we discovered an well-established path which led into the forest. After a small debate, we decided that it might lead to fresh water. The arrival of the rain made our decision easier: the thick canopy of the forest would protect us from some of the weather. I prayed that we would find no more Dalish, and led the way into the shadows. Juca followed behind me.

xxxxooooxxxxooooxxxxooooxxxx ooooo

The dark, cloying nature of the Brecilian Forest made me uneasy. I was born and raised a city girl; if I hadn't been on a ship with my father, I was at our family estate with my mother. I did not trust the shadows and noises of this damp and eerie wood.

The giant bear was also something I did not trust.

He was standing in our path, looking like our arrival might be just the thing he was looking for. Juca caught my arm, however, before I could pull my sword. "Let me try something," he whispered, lips pressing against my ear. I hesitated at first, but decided that I owed him that much, and nodded.

Juca reached for power as he approached the bear slowly, his hands splayed wide and unthreatening. The bear would have none of this, however, and growled so deeply that my boots seemed to vibrate. It was a massive creature, even moreso as it reared up on its hind legs. I reached for my sword, I could not stand by and watch idly while –

Juca whispered magic words and I saw the bear's face slacken. The creature slowly returned to all four feet, blinked in confusion, and turned to amble off into the forest.

Juca motioned for me to keep still for several long minutes while the bear lumbered out of sight. Finally, he relaxed, and turned to face me.

The notion struck me forcefully, although I could not put it into words, there was some sort of connection between the goal of Juca's magic and how it affected him. Some of his normal good nature was returning, and although we did not speak, I could see by his expression that he wanted to.

I nodded. Yes, we had some talking to do, my mage and I.

...not happy with this chapter, but posting it anyway, just to get to the next one...

any ideas on revisions would be sooo welcome. I'm giving up on it for now...