Duncan struggled to pull his eyes free from the wagon, his concern for the precious cargo stowed within gnawing at his gut. It had been a full day and night since he and Zoya had caught up to the Ostagar caravan. Toward the end of their march, he'd feared that if they wanted to keep going, he'd have to carry Zoya on his back as he'd done when she was a child. Although her head had dropped over slumped shoulders and her feet had dragged on the crumbling stone of the highway, she'd done her best to keep up with his longer stride. Never once had she complained or asked for a rest. But then she hadn't spoken the entire march, only kept dull eyes glued to the ground passing under her dusty boots.
The soldiers with the caravan had been surprised to see them approach. Most of the armored men were far too young, their armor and weapons yet to be touched with enemy blood. When the troops had realized they were being reprimanded for their inattentiveness by the Commander of the Grey, they'd quickly shifted their posture to stand at attention. This was a military transport and trouble could be spotted a ways off when traveling along these wide byways, but it wasn't unheard of for large groups of bandits to attack an armed caravan from the trees and brush overtaking the road. The rogue within him had chuckled as the young men stood stiffly, waiting for him to dismiss them before rushing off to assign scouts and guards. He'd wondered what Commander Genevieve would say if she could see him now – would she have ever guessed that he could be more than a street rat, always looking for an out.
The wagon's driver had taken one look at the silent elf swaying on her feet and insisted she rest for bit in the wagon. Zoya had looked to Duncan with lidded eyes, barely acknowledging his approval as she'd curled up amid the crates of supplies, burrowing into a tight nest of blankets. Now he found himself wondering if she was even still in there - the drab mound of heavy-weight wool hadn't budged since she crawled into it. No… he was confident Zoya would stay the course. As if prompted by his thought, a rough bounce of the wagon brought muffled curses as a black boot broke free from the tangle of blankets to brace against a neighboring crate. The force of the memory caused his steps to falter when it hit.
All that was visible of Adaia was a single black boot poking out from underneath the rough wool of the blanket. He'd tried unsuccessfully to wake her hours before, but the sun was now high in the sky with no sign of her rousing. The novelty of sleeping in, lazily wrapped around her heated form, had quickly lost its allure as she battered him with her restless tossing and turning, chasing him prematurely into the cold morning air.
She certainly deserved to sleep in. Duncan stared absently into the dancing flames of their campfire as he let the events of the previous day play through his mind.
They'd encountered yet another one of those accursed Tevinter mirrors in the ruins they'd explored. The ancient artifacts were dark beacons, their magic calling to Adaia much as their Taint called to him. He couldn't help but wonder how many more of these ornate looking glasses were scattered across Thedas, their power fouling everything around them, the corruption warping any living creature with the misfortune of getting too close.
Adaia was convinced that the mirrors, when they were Tainted as this one was, were a conduit to the Black City itself. Perhaps she was right - it was as good an explanation as any for the darkspawn, demons, and walking corpses that mobbed the areas surrounding the contaminated devices. She always avoided using her magic in these places, not wanting to further shred the Veil, as she guarded his back so he could destroy the mirrors. He'd insisted that she not put herself at risk of being infected by the evil rolling off the mirror, that perhaps they shouldn't even seek out the relics. But she believed it was her duty to see every last one of the Tevinter artifacts destroyed so they could never be misused or cause harm to another innocent creature.
Her reaction to this most recent find had been particularly intense. As they approached the collapsing cave mouth leading into the bowels of the ruins, her pale complexion had turned ashen and tension stiffened her movements. The closer they got to the mirror chamber, the greater the effect; a sheen of perspiration had glistened on her skin as she'd doubled over, retching. They'd cut through darkspawn, her blades drooping in her hands as each group took their toll, until finally reaching the ornately carved doorway. Duncan had been relieved to find the chamber empty except for the large mirror, its surface black and its Taint making the air in the room thick and dank. He'd wasted no time drawing his sword and smashing through the writhing surface. Relief had washed through the room, the dense darkness lifting.
He'd turned to Adaia, a triumphant grin tugging at his lips, only to watch helplessly as she'd collapsed to her knees. He'd leapt from the mirror platform to reach her side, sucking air between clenched teeth as he saw the crudely fletched darkspawn arrows piercing her chest. Her face was pinched with pain as she crumpled backwards into the stone threshold, Duncan's hand supporting her head and slowing her fall. His focus had shifted to the approaching darkspawn, fury rising as he'd charged into their midst, the sheen of his blades dulling with dark ichor as he'd cut through the twisted creatures. Having wiped out the threat, he'd darted back to her, returning her wan smile as he'd snatched her up into his arms.
She'd felt unbelievably light as he carried her free of the ruins, trying not to jostle her needlessly as he ran. Reaching their camping site, he'd settled her gently onto the bed of pine boughs they'd used the night before. At her insistence, he'd yanked the arrows out, clenching his teeth so hard he thought they'd crack when she cried out as the barbed projectiles ripped free from her flesh. The golden light of her healing magic had enveloped her as soon as the last arrow was removed.
There was nothing further he could do for her, and it filled him with anxious energy. He'd set about getting a fire going, feeling its heat on his back as he'd crouched beside it to quietly watch her. It always seemed a miraculous thing to see torn flesh knit itself, to feel the peacefulness that came with one of Adaia's healings. As soon as the golden glow had faded, Duncan had retrieved a waterskin and blanket for Adaia. She'd glanced up at him when he returned, conflicting emotions playing across her delicate features before she'd ducked her head, curling up under the blanket with her back to him, effectively avoiding his gaze.
Duncan shook himself free of his memories, his dark eyes opening to look past the campfire flames to watch Adaia sleep. She'd never shut him out before, but even in slumber she'd pushed him away. Distancing herself from him like this instilled more fear in him than seeing her riddled with darkspawn arrows.
The shape under the blankets finally shifted and stirred. Once again Adaia avoided his gaze, rising to her feet and moving soundlessly into the brush surrounding the camp. Seconds and minutes dragged out like hours as he strained to hear her return, jumping at every snapped twig or bird call.
When she finally re-entered the camp clearing, her expression was unreadable, but he could sense her anxiety as it settled over them like a thundercloud. Duncan froze, sure that any movement or sound would startle her away like a skittish doe. She paced before him and knotted her slender fingers, her eyes searching his when she finally stopped to kneel at his feet and clasp his hands. He was suddenly struck by the length of her dark lashes, at how the sun drew out the gold flecks nearly hidden in the green of her eyes and reflected off copper highlights in her hair.
Adaia took a deep breath, licking her lips before she spoke, "I know of no other way to say this other than to just speak bluntly…"
Duncan's heart stopped for a moment before it set to a wicked pounding in anticipation of her next words.
"I'm pregnant."
Duncan's memories were interrupted by the gruff voice of the wagon's driver, a grizzled veteran far past his prime. "I apologize Commander, but I can't help but notice your concern for our young passenger."
Duncan wrenched his dark eyes away from the wagon, regarding the older man with an impatient glare before forcing his face back into an impassive mask.
The soldier continued, seemingly oblivious to Duncan's silent response. "You've nothing to worry about. What is she - about sixteen? Nah... probably a bit older I'm guessing? It's so hard to tell age on those knife ears - they all look like children to me until they're grey and wrinkled…" The man raised a placating hand as Duncan's eyes narrowed. "I only mean to let you know – my own kids are near that age, and they sleep like the dead. And I'm guessing elf younglings are no different. She'll stir when her belly starts to growling." The gruff man offered a knowing wink, "I'll wager she'll wake for dinner."
Duncan nodded in acknowledgment of the man's words, shifting his gaze back to the tangled blankets as his thoughts returned to Adaia. Her words, spoken so simply, were not what he'd been anticipating. He'd feared she was going to tell him she was done with their adventuring or even that she'd been Tainted during that last fight in the ruins. And never, in the rush of joy that her words brought, would he have imagined how they, and the child she bore, would impact him.
Another rough patch of road shook the wagon, the muffled grumbling from the blankets bringing a smile to his lips. Duncan chuckled – if the wagon's jostling continued, she'd be awake long before the evening meal. Perhaps he should have taken the driver's wager.
Duncan drew a hand over his beard as if to wipe away the grin lingering there - he had his steely reputation to uphold after all. But the burden he'd been carrying since the night he'd learned of Adaia's death was finally beginning to lift, leaving him with a lightheartedness he wasn't sure he'd feel again. It had started with a subtle surge of triumph when he claimed Right of Conscription in the Alienage and continued as the caravan moved further from Denerim. He should never have left Zoya, but now he had a chance to make it right. Now he had the freedom to be there to protect her.
Ahh… but there was that stirring of guilt. For the last few months, Duncan had suspected his Calling was nearing. He'd had many of the tell-tale signs - the nightmares had begun again, his need for food and sleep had decreased, and he was becoming increasingly irrational and short-tempered. But then perhaps his symptoms were caused by Blight-induced nightmares – those alone would be enough to chase away sleep, appetite and patience. Regardless, he had every intention of living long enough to see the end of this Blight. But if something should happen to him, who better to look after Zoya than the Wardens. These were men he'd hand-picked over the years to fight at his back, and he trusted them with his life. And he didn't doubt he could trust them with Zoya's as well.
Pride swelled in his chest as his thoughts turned to the Wardens now camped at Ostagar. From oldest to newest recruit, each individual brought a special skill to the whole, making this small group far more effective than any large army. Zoya's skills would be an invaluable addition.
But would she be accepted by everyone? Before leaving Denerim, Duncan had sent word to Alistair that he was on his way back to Ostagar with a new recruit in tow. But he'd struggled with how much to tell the young Warden about the lass. She was an apostate, and the Chantry's Templar training had been focused, at least in part, on teaching distrust of magic and those who wielded it. And Zoya wasn't likely to look fondly on the former Templar, given her past experiences with that Order. Even so, Duncan had decided that the best course of action was to just be open and honest with them both, to get them used to the idea before they met.
Of the two of them, Duncan suspected Alistair would be more accepting of the situation. It was tradition for the most junior member of the order to mentor the new recruits, and Alistair knew his duty. And unlike many other Templars, he'd not had any firsthand experiences to sour his attitude toward mages. In fact, despite the Chantry's teachings, his experiences during his short time in the Circle Tower had made him more sympathetic to the mages' plight. Besides, Alistair was of an age that Zoya's obvious charms wouldn't be lost on him. Duncan chuckled as he remembered the first time he'd seen Adaia, a glittering jewel among the bland mass of mages in the Tower's Great Hall. The very sight of her had struck him senseless to anything but the breathtaking elf - well, that and finding a way to thieve his way through the Tower.
No… he suspected Alistair would quickly forget that the girl was an apostate. The real feat would be easing Zoya into the idea of working with the former Templar. Perhaps Zoya would eventually be able to see past his background and instead see his many fine qualities - his unwavering loyalty, honesty, good-heartedness, and humor to name a few. The lad had an affable way about him that put most people quickly at ease; he was, well... noble.
If nothing else, Duncan knew that duty and loyalty to him would compel their cooperation. Given the trials and tragedies these two young people had faced in their short lives, and the Blight now looming over them all, Duncan needed to be sure that if something happened to him, they would be there to look out for each other.
~oOo~
The bumping of the wagon had ceased, and with it the incessant grinding of wheels on crumbling stone. Zoya shook her head and pressed her fists against her ears as a discordant ringing suddenly replaced the silence. Andraste's blazing sword… curse these ears! She wondered if the driver suffered hearing damage from the wagon's racket. Forcing a wide, jaw-cracking yawn in an attempt to counter the ringing, a surge of painful pressure was followed by a popping sound, setting everything right again.
Wrapping the scratchy wool blanket tighter around her head, she hoped to block out both the sun leaking in through the canvas and the voices of the human soldiers. Where was Duncan? There was no sign of him amidst the tangle of sounds. She shrugged off the momentary surge of panic. Duncan had claimed her as his recruit, and there was no way would leave her now. Drawing her knees to her chest, she pulled into a tighter ball – she wasn't about to fight as slumber lured her back in.
The wagon had grown dark when the aroma of meat sizzling over a fire dragged her from sleep, her empty stomach growling as it demanded tribute. She wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but her body was now making her painfully aware of her recent abuse and neglect. Even so, she took her time working through the familiar ritual of stretching and making sure the blood and magic were flowing as they should. It was mostly dark inside the wagon, the flickering light from the campfire glowing softly against the canvas. The ponderous movements of the oxen in their tethers, the boisterous voices of the soldiers, and the metallic clanking of utensils on dishes as they ate filled her ears. She sighed - if she wanted to eat, she needed to join the rest at the fire. Given the events that had led her here, the prospect of being surrounded by armed humans wasn't very appealing, but the audible protests of her cavernous belly overruled her hesitation.
Sliding from the wagon without even a whisper of sound from the overworked axles, Zoya used her vantage point at the edge of the camp to scan her surroundings for Duncan. More than a dozen soldiers clustered around the fire situated between her and the road, a ring of expedient tents at their backs within the fire's light, but the Warden was nowhere to be seen. After sleeping in a bouncing wagon, nature's call had become a screaming demand, forcing her to leave the cheerful light of the campfire for the shadows of the surrounding trees to answer it. Her heart thudded in her chest even as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, flinching at every rustle and snap. Maker… please don't let me run into any patrolling soldiers while I'm out here crouched at the base of a tree with my breeches around my ankles... She couldn't help but chuckle as she saw that introduction play through her head. Hello, I'm Zoya, Grey Warden recruit. A pleasure to meet you - I'd shake hands, but…
When she returned to the wagon, she was surprised to find Duncan waiting there with her dinner. Handing her the plate and a mug, he grabbed a pair of wooden crates and set them on the ground, gesturing for her to take a seat.
Nodding her thanks, she sank onto the wooden box and set to devouring the simple meal. Shoveling the bland food into her mouth, Zoya watched Duncan out of the corner of her eye. His face was unreadable as he watched the activity around the fire. He didn't speak, waiting patiently until she'd scraped her plate clean, set it and the mug on the ground at her feet, and leaned back in a languid stretch that called forth a wide yawn.
"Still tired?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, "I assumed you'd be feeling well rested after sleeping for so long."
She offered Duncan a sheepish grin, "I am, or at least I thought I was. How long did I sleep?"
The corner of his mouth lifted, "Two days and a night have passed since we caught up to the caravan."
"Two days?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I apologize, Duncan. You should have woken me…"
"There was no reason to do so, and you needed your rest." He lifted his hand as if to cover hers where it rested on her lap, but stopped himself mid-gesture and turned his gaze back to the fire as he stroked his beard instead. The silence stretched awkwardly between them until Duncan cleared his throat. "You should turn in shortly. We'll break camp at sunrise and I want you to join me in scouting ahead."
Rubbing at bleary eyes, Zoya spun in her seat to frown at him, "But I just woke up! I'm not tired."
Duncan regarded her with a steady stare. "That was an order, not a suggestion. I've arranged for you to sleep in the wagon. You'll be safer here, away from the soldiers where I can keep an eye on you."
"Safe from what?" She followed his gaze to the campfire. The human soldiers were young men, and like others of their kind they were getting increasingly rambunctious as they drank and played cards to pass the time. She'd heard stories of what happened to elven women who worked as camp followers and shuddered as she noted that a few sets of curious eyes had turned in her direction. But she was to be a Grey Warden, and surely that granted her a different status or at least gave these men some pause. "I can take care of myself, Duncan."
"Of that I've no doubt." His dark eyes twinkled and his mouth twitched with humor for a moment before his face turned stern. "But bear in mind that you are now a Grey Warden recruit. Your actions reflect on our order and affect how we're received by the army and its leaders, many of whom are the very nobles I seek out for permission to recruit. Our place here is tenuous at best, and I can't risk another incident like the one in Denerim." As she started to sputter in protest, he raised a placating hand. "No matter whether the actions are taken in self-defense or not…" He placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "From the moment I conscripted you, your life and your actions became my responsibility. All that I ask is that you trust that I have your best interests at heart."
Anger suddenly flared to life within her, the words erupting forth before she could stop them. "My best interests? Who are you to know what's in my best interest? You know nothing about me – you haven't even been around for the last five years!" She bolted to her feet, the crate flipping backward into the wagon with a loud thud, but she hardly noticed it as she paced in front of Duncan with clenched fists. The words were bitter on her tongue as she spat them out. "Everyone seems to see so clearly what is in my best interests! My mother turned herself over to the Templars in my place, dying on their blades to keep me from being taken. My father would have married me off to a complete stranger and planned to send me to the other side of Thedas... not that it was the first time he thought it would be better to send me away." She paused, sullen resentment darkening her eyes. But then the fiery glint returned, and she jabbed a finger in his direction. "And you," she snarled, her tone dripping with accusation. "You abandoned me when I needed you most. And then you just saunter back into my life like nothing has changed and conscript me into the Wardens!"
Throwing her hands up in the air, her rant continued as her gait quickened. "Andraste's flaming bits! For all I know, the Templars wanting to haul me off to the Circle to be made Tranquil, and Anders leaving me behind when he left Denerim, could be attributed to others deciding what's in my best interest."
From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Duncan flinch, and she whirled to face him. He swallowed convulsively, his focus shifting to inspect his hands. She blinked, his sudden reluctance to meet her eyes giving her qualms. But as quickly as it appeared, whatever had rattled Duncan had passed, and he took a deep breath and met her gaze again with cool composure. Maker's ass - how does he do that? The way he so calmly kept control made her want to fly into an absolute fury and batter his cuirass in frustration.
She pressed clenched fists against her hips as she glowered at him. "Did any of you consider that I might have an opinion about what was in my best interests? Did any of you ask me? I've always tried to do the best I could with the choices others made for me. But when do I get to decide?"
The corners of Duncan's mouth shifted upward in a subtle twitch. "And what do you think would be in your best interest?"
She stared at him blankly for a moment. No one had ever asked her that question. The fire of her vexation smoldered as she realized she didn't have an answer, then threatened to flare back up as she realized he was amused by her mental flailing. "I've no idea. But I think it's time I figured that out for myself." Zoya locked Duncan with a defiant glare, daring him to tell her she was mistaken.
He returned her stare with unruffled composure, and it was maddening. White teeth flashed against his swarthy face and crinkles formed at the corners of his dark eyes. His shoulders shook with barely restrained mirth as he laughed, "Well that was all very dramatic. Are you done, or is there more?"
The frustration that had blazed moments ago nearly erupted into another flow of furious words, but fizzled as she realized how ridiculous she must look – her eyes wide and her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as she tried to come up with an angry retort. It wasn't often that she was left speechless like this. "It's not funny, Duncan." Zoya sulked as she crossed her arms, further increasing his amusement.
It took several minutes for Duncan to regain himself. He took a deep breath and wiped a gloved hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry, Zoya. You're right." He swallowed hard and his eyes were haunted as he regarded her. "You should be given the freedom to decide what is best for you. The people in your life have had to make some tough choices, and many of them aren't ones you'd have made for yourself. I understand that better than you may think. But it's hard to treat you like an adult when you stand there pouting. All I see is a small child stomping her dainty foot as she insists that she should be allowed to bring a half dead, flea-ridden, stray cat into the house to sleep in the bed."
Zoya chuckled despite herself. "I'm surprised you remembered him." She'd forgotten all about that poor cat – they'd named him Troll. An image of the ragged tabby flashed through her mind. Missing an eye and most of an ear, his tail seemed to list perpetually to one side. She remembered the way his bony ribs and spine felt under the matted fur as she pinned him against her chest so he couldn't escape. And the smell… oh Maker, the smell. Zoya and her cousins had itched for days afterward. She and her mother had taken the cat into the tunnels under the Alienage, and he'd been her first patient – not that he was particularly grateful about it. And at this moment, she was no different from that crazy tom - biting the hand that cared for her. She took a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Duncan. I shouldn't have…"
Duncan shook his head, waving off her remorse. "You don't need to apologize. I never should have left you for so long. And if I thought you didn't want to become a Grey Warden, I wouldn't have conscripted you."
Zoya nodded as she squared her shoulders, "I do want to be a Warden... I've wanted to be a Warden for as long as I can remember."
He rose to his feet and gripped her shoulder, a glimmer of a smile crossing his bearded face. "Good. Now as your commander, I order you to turn in, Warden."
With an exaggerated sigh, she crossed her arms and bowed, not bothering to hide the wry grin tugging at her lips. "As you say, Commander." Turning sharply on her heel, she marched toward the wagon in her best imitation of a good soldier before pulling herself up onto the tailgate.
"Oh, and Zoya… I know you'll be tempted, but don't bother trying to sneak out – I'll know."
Zoya flinched, feeling a bit like a child caught smuggling sweets. She snuck a glance over her shoulder as she climbed into the wagon; Duncan watched her with an amused expression.
Zoya settled back and listened to the sounds of the camp and watched the flickering light dance across the canvas canopy. Oh sure, it would be quite the challenge to sneak past the older rogue, but the thought tempted her. It had been years since she'd tested her skills against the Warden. But if she really wanted to get past him, she only needed to enter the Between and he would never know. There was a part of her that itched to try her luck. Perhaps she would give it a try some other time when she wouldn't need to be up at the break of dawn. Nestling into the blankets, she let her mind slip into moments of happiness. Memories of hide-and-seek games with Duncan and her mother in the Alienage tunnels, the triumph of successfully sneaking past the skilled rogues and staying hidden without using her magic, played through her mind as she drifted off to sleep.
~oOo~
When Zoya was a child, there had really been only one tree – the vhenadahl. As she grew older, and took it upon herself to explore the gardens in Denerim in the dark of night, she saw other trees. But none of those smaller, ornamental samples could compare to the enormous oak that had stood at the center of the Alienage for generations, a symbol of a better time, the time of Arlathan. Like many before her, she'd found peace as she nestled between its large roots and watched sunlight and wind play through the boughs. She'd followed branches that reached forever into the sky, nimble hands and feet carrying her upwards to investigate the other world that lived amongst the broad leaves. As she'd clung to her high perch, her heart had soared with the birds, yearning to explore the mysterious world beyond Denerim's stone walls.
And now here she was, trying to move noiselessly over the detritus as she trekked through the world below the forest canopy that she'd seen from the vhenadahl. But her feet wanted to dance and jump, the spongy moss putting a spring in each step. Zoya could no longer contain the elation of her sudden freedom. Joy overcame duty as she spread her arms wide and threw her head back to look up into the dappled light above her, spinning until she collapsed in a giggling heap.
Duncan cleared his throat to get her attention, and Zoya peered up at him, attempting to look abashed despite the wide grin splitting her face. He towered over her, as straight and immovable as the tall pine trees that surrounded them. The illusion of stoicism gave out as a smile twitched behind his beard, "Did you get it out of your system?"
She reached out to clasp his offered hand as he yanked her to her feet, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "I don't know… it's too soon to tell."
The Warden shook his head, snickering under his breath as he turned to journey along the rough path. Zoya was amazed at how silently the armored human moved, not one jingle of a metal buckle or snap of a branch under his heavy boots. And yet here she was, somehow managing to find every dry twig or loose patch of stone, her gear now fouled up from her earlier exuberance. She reached back to untangle her long braid from the borrowed bow before dashing after him. But within a dozen paces, she was distracted again. Her steps slowed as she stretched her arms out to the side, her hands brushing along the vegetation on the trail's edge. She stopped to stand under an oversized frond and watch a line of ants scurry along the fern's leaf. Further along the path she paused to marvel at a plant she'd never seen before, its palmate leaves wider than her torso. Curious fingers snaked out to brush across the hairy surface.
"I wouldn't touch that one – it has tiny thorns that work their way into your skin, even through leather gloves." Duncan warned.
Zoya snatched her hand back, brushing it hastily against the leather of her breeches. "I had no idea… It's all so… so grand." She nearly tripped over a root as she lost herself in the flittering of a vibrantly colored butterfly. "I can't imagine ever getting used to this."
Duncan chuckled, "Give it a day or two and you'll have grown tired of it and will be begging to get back to the road."
Lengthening her stride, Zoya caught up with the Warden. "Are we really not rejoining the caravan? We're going to travel the rest of the way to Ostagar through the forest? I thought the road was the quickest way…"
Zoya nearly smashed into Duncan's back when he suddenly stopped walking. His dark eyes lost focus, his expression one of someone trying to listen to something far away. She'd seen that expression the previous day as they scouted. After tersely ordering her to keep up, they'd raced back to the caravan. Duncan had moved off to speak to the wagon's driver, and all Zoya heard was something about darkspawn. By the break of dawn, he and Zoya had gathered their gear, along with enough provisions for a week, and ducked into the forest.
His eyes slid shut and he took a deep breath before marching away, barely glancing at Zoya as he headed down an adjoining game trail. She sprinted after him to keep up. "Duncan?"
Duncan's shoulders were tense, flesh imitating its armored covering as he strode in front of her. Zoya frowned at his back, willing him to respond. His voice was terse when he finally spoke. "Yes, we'll be travelling in the forest... perhaps the entire way to Ostagar."
A heavy sigh escaped Zoya's lips – she got the sense there was something more behind his response. Sometimes the Warden's murky answers were enough to make her want to grab him by his beard and shake him. She couldn't stop the frustration from seeping into her voice. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
Giving her a sidelong glance, Duncan's mouth set in a firm line. "I'm sensing the Taint. Perhaps it's darkspawn, but they shouldn't be above ground this far north."
Zoya's eyes widened as her heart thudded in her chest. "You mean... we might run into darkspawn here?"
Duncan shot her a wry smile, "You do realize that's what Grey Wardens do? We fight darkspawn."
"Really? No chance for a tea party then?" Zoya chewed on her lip as she peered into the surrounding brush and strained her ears. The vegetation around them suddenly seemed dangerous, a hiding place for creatures whose sole purpose was death. "I guess I didn't think I'd be fighting them so soon. I don't know if I'm ready…"
"You've been my student since you were old enough to hold a blade. I doubt there has ever been a Warden recruit, myself included, who was more ready. You'll do fine." Duncan clasped her shoulder, "I've been training Wardens and fighting darkspawn since before you were born - the creatures die like any other. And as I can sense them at a distance, they won't take us by surprise."
They moved quickly along the game trails, Duncan leading them in the direction of the corruption he'd sensed. The sustained concentration, the anticipation of what they were heading towards, caused every muscle to twitch in readiness for fight or flight. Her head was starting to ache from her eyes constantly searching the surrounding vegetation, and her ears seeking to identify every sound around them.
Her heart jumped into her throat when she heard scuffling further down the path. She grabbed Duncan's arm, pulling him to a stop. Shutting her eyes, she concentrated on trying to identify the sounds. The sickening sound of teeth scraping on bone made her gut churn, but it was the growling, like Alienage mongrels fighting over scraps, that gave the source away. "Wolves, I think…"
Duncan and Zoya crept forward on silent feet, the sounds of the feasting predators growing louder as they drew nearer. Focused on their meal, they didn't notice the Wardens approach. Taking shelter behind a large tree, Zoya stuck her head out to spy a pair of large wolves tearing at the body of what might have once been a human.
She turned to Duncan with a raised eyebrow, looking to him for direction. With a simple gesture of his gloved hand, he indicated she should deal with the threat. Her heart thundered in her ears as she responded with a terse nod. Was he testing her skill? This was her chance to show him that she'd not slacked in her training since she'd seen him last. Chewing on her lip, she took a moment to consider the best tactic. It was unfortunate that circumstances called for a ranged attack - archery had never been her favorite thing.
Retrieving the bow from her back, her palms slick with sweat under the leather of her gloves, she drew an arrow from her quiver. Nocking it, she stepped out onto the trail, inhaling deeply as she took aim. The fletching tickled her cheek as she released her breath and the arrow simultaneously, the projectile hitting its mark as it buried itself into dark fur. The second wolf's head shot up from its meal the moment its companion yelped and collapsed in a heap. Zoya loosed a second arrow as it charged; the beast stumbled, a jumble of silver fur sliding along the loose stone of the game trail.
Duncan exited the trees within a few steps of the ravaged human. She hadn't even realized he wasn't near her anymore. Glancing up the game path to Zoya, he shook his head to let her know there was nothing further to be done.
Zoya trotted down the trail, her eyes scanning the area for more wolves before settling on the body. No healing she could do would help this man, and she found herself hoping he'd been dead before the beasts had gotten hold of him. She looked away as the bile rose in her throat. Movement in the vegetation caught her eye, and she nocked another arrow before moving into a better position for dealing with the new threat.
Duncan strode toward the bush, his sword in his hand. He knelt down as he motioned for her to approach.
Depositing the arrow back into the quiver and slinging the bow across her shoulders, she moved to join him. She was surprised to see that two more humans had taken shelter in the brush. One of the men was sprawled on his side with several arrow shafts sprouting from his back, his vacant eyes turned toward the road. The other man was on his back, two arrows piercing his chest and a dagger clenched in his hand. His eyes widened when he saw Zoya, brandishing the blade at her even as his eyes slid shut. She knelt at his flank, reaching out with her healing magic – unlike his companions, he was alive and would recover with her help. Placing a hand near each shaft, she nodded at Duncan to pull the arrows, letting her power flow over the man as soon as they were yanked free. The human sighed softly as the skin knitted itself closed, his face relaxing into sleep.
Zoya glanced at Duncan as he inspected the arrows, running the green feather fletching between his finger and thumb. "Darkspawn?"
The Warden quirked an eyebrow as he twirled the shaft between his fingers and passed it to her. "No… the Dalish."
A/N - As always, thank you's (with virtual hugs and kisses) go out to my beta, Eve Hawke, and my beta sister, Etaine. I love you both! And thank you to everyone who has favorited, followed, reviewed or even just silently read this story. *hugs*