The sweet melody coming from the flickering shadows on the other side of the fire soothed Duncan toward sleep. Each note weighed down his eyelids just a little bit more; each verse sent his thoughts adrift like a leaf in a stream. While the lyrics were too quiet for his ears to pick out, the tune was one he'd heard more times than he could count. He started to stir when the earthy voice went silent, its cold absence like the empty spot left by a paramour who'd snuck from the bed.

"Duncan?" The honeyed murmur gently nudged at his slumber as thoughts of Adaia slipped over him like a soft blanket.

Her words, "I'm pregnant," had been so simple. But they struck him senseless, muddling all logical thought and tangling any response before it could pass his lips. Elation rolled over him. A baby… Adaia was going to have a baby! He'd never even considered…

"Duncan..." Adaia's voice trembled. "We should talk…" Emerald eyes brimmed with tears as she looked up at him from where she knelt at his feet. Her slender fingers were cold and pale as snow, clutching with desperate strength at his scarred hands.

While just as simple, those three words had a far different effect on him, their shock like being plunged into a glacier-fed stream. If only she could have let him enjoy her joyous news a bit longer. Duncan felt the tug of a frown as his heart grimly pounded. "Well that sounds ominous." Running a rough hand over his face, he loosed a heavy sigh. "As you wish..."

Dropping her hands to her lap, Adaia turned her focus to nervously knotting her fingers. Despite the dread stomping through his gut, Duncan dropped to his knees and twined reassuring fingers with hers to still her fidgeting. Her wan attempt at a smile did nothing to comfort him, nor did her uneasy tone. "You do realize this will mean a big change for us? A life of adventuring doesn't really lend itself to raising a child. And I'll need to find a healer who has dealt with pregnancies, the sooner the better. I'm not well versed in midwifery." Her voice sounded so small, so unsure. "And… well… I have some special concerns that require a second opinion."

The color drained from Duncan's swarthy face as a dull thud started in his chest, "Concerns?"

She swallowed hard, her face pinched as she shoved the words from her mouth. "I never imagined I could have children. Abuses of my former master… well…" Conflict darkened her eyes - Adaia always had been reluctant to share any details about her history, even with him. "And you being a Grey Warden… I never thought there was any possibility…"

Tears glittered, threatening to spill at any moment, and her voice cracked. "If it wasn't for the injuries I sustained in the ruins yesterday… I thought that maybe the potions had stopped working – that maybe I was starting to suffer from the darkspawn corruption. There was something there, something different within my blood, when I did my healing. It's not like the darkspawn sickness or the Taint you carry within you, but yet it is. I don't know what to make of it…" She shook her head, confusion glinting in her eyes. "And then I felt it… the heartbeat, the life growing inside me – it's so strong, so forceful, Duncan."

Her teeth worked her lower lip, her slender shoulders shaking and her hands twitching within his. Sensing the worst was yet to come, Duncan steeled his heart against the blow. Adaia ducked her head as she pulled her hands free, collapsing into herself. "I'm not even sure how far along I am. I'm so sorry, Duncan…I don't know how to say this… As much as I wish it, I can't even be sure the baby is yours."

Any earlier joy crumbled to ash, bitter in Duncan's mouth. There it was – like a broad axe striking his chest and cleaving his heart - the painful reminder that he was in love with a woman who was married to another. When they were adventuring, blissfully entangled in isolated camps around Ferelden, it was easy to forget her other life in the Alienage – to pretend that it was only the two of them together.

A surge of jealousy exploded within him. Maker take that blasted elf! What had Cyrion ever done for Adaia? Why was she so stubbornly determined to fulfill her vows? How many times had he begged her to join the Wardens, to join him and leave the Alienage behind? He'd always held out hope that she would relent, but now with a child on the way... And if it was Cyrion's, it would be another thing binding her to him, to the Alienage.

Adaia's eyes, red-rimmed and swollen from her tears, bored into him as the silence stretched between them. He wasn't ready to meet that gaze, to let her see his pain, his disappointment. As his eyes slid shut, an unbidden image dominated his thoughts of Adaia cradling an infant, crimson hair falling like a curtain as her head bent low. She hummed a lullaby, pressing rosebud lips to the red down on the infant's head. Love for Adaia blazed in his chest, chasing doubt and jealousy back into the dark shadows of his mind. This child would be Adaia's, no matter who the father, and perhaps that's all that mattered.

Duncan took a trembling breath, trying to force words past the lump in his throat. He recaptured one of her hands in his own, curling the fingers of the other under her chin to raise her eyes to his. "Adaia, I love you. I'm yours, body and soul, in this life and beyond." He took a deep breath, "And I swear this to you, I'll love and protect your child to the end of my days."

The tears cascaded down Adaia's pale cheeks, and she pressed her face against Duncan's hand as he wiped them away. "I love you too, more than I ever thought possible." She smoothed an uncertain hand over her stomach. "I just don't know what to do. So much depends on just the shape of her ears…"

He chuckled softly, a self-depreciating smile tugging at his mouth as he rubbed a hand along his jaw, "Her? Well… we should all hope she gets your looks then."

Adaia loosed an impatient sigh. "I'm serious, Duncan! I can't go back to the Alienage, not until after the baby is born, maybe not ever. If the baby is human, I'll be outcast. But if the baby is elven, then I owe it to Cyrion to return to the Alienage. And if I was sensing the Taint… Is that even possible?"

Duncan dragged a hand through his hair, rubbing the tense muscles in his neck as he tried to ignore the mention of Cyrion. While he couldn't recall any instances of the Taint being passed from Warden to offspring, he knew someone who might know. "I think we should seek out Fiona - last I heard, she was in Montsimmard. Given what she's been through, and her training as a healer, she'd know more about this than anyone. Or we could head to Weisshaupt..."

Adaia regarded him quietly for a moment, her face unreadable. "I agree with you about Fiona, I trust her implicitly, but I won't be going to Weisshaupt. Your Grey Wardens are no better than the Circle mages in their treatment of… oddities. I don't want myself or my child to become curiosities to be experimented on." She rose to her feet, mumbling under her breath as she crossed to the other side of the fire. "I've had more than my fill of that kind of treatment." Retrieving a map from her pack, she flattened it on a nearby log, her hand tracing over the thick parchment. "We're not far from where the Sabrae clan camps this time of year – if memory serves, they should be a half-day's travel east of here. Keeper Mahariel is an exceptionally skilled healer and has knowledge of lore beyond that of the Circle or the Wardens. I think we should find the clan and ask him for refuge and assistance. I'll be safe with them while you retrieve Fiona."

The last thing Duncan wanted was to spend any time apart from Adaia. "Agreed, with one exception – I send for Fiona and stay with you while we wait for her to arrive."

Adaia returned to him, sinking back to her knees before him. "Grey Warden or no, you're human. While I don't think Keeper Mahariel would object, others in the clan might." Nimble fingers stroked his cheek before sliding down to settle over his heart, a soft smile playing across her lips. "But you won't hear me argue against you sticking around."

"Duncan? Are you asleep?" Zoya prodded him again, her voice tentative.

He sighed, running a hand over his face as he cracked one eye enough to peer at her. "I was," he grumbled, sleep clinging to him. Duncan wasn't surprised the young elf was restless. While she'd dutifully stayed focused on the task at hand when they were setting up camp, Duncan had sensed something was eating at her.

Zoya climbed over the log he was leaning against, settling on a spongy patch of moss next to him. "Was it truly the Dalish who attacked those men?"

He yawned widely, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "It appears that way. We can ask our guest when he rouses. But I'm curious as to why they attacked. Usually the Dalish try to avoid human contact, to avoid trouble of any kind. Perhaps the villagers strayed too close to the Dalish camp."

Zoya chewed on her lip as she picked absently at the green mat beneath her. Swallowing hard, she met his eyes. "What if the Dalish attacked them for a reason? What if I've healed someone who did them harm?"

Duncan shrugged, "I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it – we may never know. Or do you intend to interrogate and pass judgment on this man?"

A frightened squeak came from the other side of the fire. The alarm was evident in the man's voice when he spoke. "Makers breath! You wouldn't let that knife ear kill me would you? I ain't a murderer – I didn't do nothing…"

Duncan felt Zoya bristle beside him, and he laid a restraining hand on her arm. Squaring his shoulders, he pinned the panicking man with a stern eye. "That knife ear saved your life today. I believe you owe the young lady your thanks and an apology."

The stout man gave Zoya a dubious look, the distrust clear on his whiskered face. "I suppose. I just wished you'd gotten there sooner and saved my friends. Those Dalish attacked us for no reason – we didn't do nothing to them. Who are you people anyway?"

"We're Grey Wardens." Duncan tossed the man a waterskin, "Maybe you should tell us what happened with the Dalish."

The man took a long drink, wiping a filthy sleeve across his mouth. "Me and my friends were on our way back to our village when two of them pointy-eared bastards showed up out of nowhere. We didn't want no trouble, so we tried to pay 'em off with loot we found in a cave near here. They got really curious about what we'd found – said something about us stealing old elven things. But we didn't steal nothing – we found the stuff and thought it might be worth some coin. They wanted to know where the cave was – said if we told 'em, they'd let us go. So we told 'em everything we knew, even that there were monsters in the caves that ran us off. They took our stuff but did they just walk away? No! They shot at us with arrows, leaving us for dead – food for the wolves."

Duncan rubbed thoughtfully at his beard. "Where are these caves? What did these monsters look like?"

"Less than a half day's travel up the mountain." The man swallowed convulsively, "We didn't actually see 'em, but we could hear 'em – the sounds coming out of the caves… well they just weren't natural. And there was a bad smell, like death…"

Duncan stood and turned toward the caves, closing his eyes and stretching out with his Warden sense. That bearing seemed to follow what he'd felt earlier; the familiar thrumming pulled him in that direction, but it was still faint. He offered a hand to Zoya, pulling the diminutive elf to her feet. "We leave first thing in the morning for the caves. Get your gear ready and turn in – you'll likely need all the rest you can get."

~oOo~

Despite Duncan's prediction that she'd be begging to get back to the highway after spending a day or two in the forest, Zoya was becoming more convinced that she never wanted to leave. Why would she ever want to trade the abundant life under the canopy and sweet birdsong for the stark, lifeless corridor and the clamor of armor? If this was the world the Dalish lived in, why would anyone voluntarily live in the Alienage?

Zoya grinned as they traveled the path winding up the side of the mountains, pleased that it was becoming easier to quiet her footsteps. The rocky trail under her feet didn't feel so different from the stone tunnels under Denerim or the broken cobbles in the Alienage. The principles of stealth, taught to her so long ago by Duncan and her mother, applied no matter where her feet landed.

Duncan stalked silently in front of her, his movements effortless as he tested his surroundings like a wolf scenting his prey. Alone with him here in the forest, she was beginning to see more of the rogue and less of the Commander. Like the thick beard and silverite plate, the grim intensity that now blanketed him was new to her. But her old Duncan was there somewhere under the Commander's mask – she'd seen glimmers of him in those dark eyes during their travels.

Duncan halted their upward journey to take a drink, silently passing her the waterskin, his focus remaining on the mountain path. Had he always been so unflappable?

A question that had been tickling at the back of her mind since their reunion spilled from impertinent lips. "So what's with the beard anyway?"

He ran a gloved hand over his face. "What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow, "Don't you like it? I thought it made me look commanding."

"No - it just makes you look hairy." Zoya teased, "Besides, I always liked your face. It's a nice face, an expressive face. Now it's hidden behind all that… fur."

Pain flickered behind his eyes, and he turned away from her, his voice gruff when he spoke. "Your mother once said something very similar to me." He cleared his throat, "We should get back to the task at hand. I believe we're getting close to those caves."

Zoya chewed at her lip as she watched him stride away. Maker's ass, why am I such an insufferable brat sometimes? She hadn't meant to upset Duncan. Now that she thought about it, the last time she'd seen him with a beard was after a lengthy trip he took to the Deep Roads in Orzammar when she was a child. It was the only time she'd seen her mother angry with the Warden. Adaia had ordered Zoya out of the tunnels, and by the time she'd returned, Duncan was clean-shaven again and looking a bit sheepish.

Tugging rough hands through her hair, she knotted her fingers at the back of her bowed head for a moment, vowing to guard her tongue better in the future. As if that was likely to last long… She snorted in frustration before rushing after the Warden.

There was no evidence of the Dalish as they moved quickly along the mountain path, only scattered human and animal footprints. Maybe the elves hadn't headed to the caves after all. Zoya's eyes scanned upward, following the time-worn rock of the mountain until it disappeared from sight behind low-lying clouds. Were the caves far up the mountain, perhaps even hidden behind the clouds? What would it be like, under that fluffy blanket of white?

Zoya's nose crinkled, her hand instinctually leaping to her face to press over her nose and mouth as the unmistakable stench of death filled the air. "Andraste's ass, that's foul! Please tell me that's not the Dalish…"

Duncan's brow furrowed, "Doubtful. They haven't been up here long enough to explain that smell." He drew his sword, and with a sharp nod, indicated that Zoya should also arm herself.

There was nowhere else to go but along the path. On one side of them was a wall of rock, each crevice filled with vines with thorns as big as her hand, and on the other was a near vertical drop. But the narrowness of their route would also be a disadvantage to any attackers.

Her ears twitched as she focused on listening for any sign of an enemy, her fingers tightening around the smooth wood of the bow. There was no sound on the trail beyond them – no sound at all. "Duncan?" A frown twisted at her mouth, her voice jarring in the silence. "Do you hear that?"

"No, nothing. So unless you're hearing something that I'm not…" He regarded her with an impassive look. When Zoya shook her head, he turned his attention back to the mountain path.

"I'm guessing this silence isn't normal?" Zoya spoke in a hushed voice, following the Warden's lead as he crept along the crumbling stone.

As they rounded a rock outcrop, Zoya saw the source of the stench; a pair of large beasts, each nearly the size of a horse, sprawled across the path. Their white fur was stained dark with old blood, the intricately curved antlers glinting in the sun. Her eyes swept their surroundings, her ears straining for any sound of an enemy. "What are they? Are those halla? What happened to them?"

Duncan knelt beside one of the animals, his hand tracing over the beast's antlers. "Yes, they're halla. And given the intricacy of these antlers, they're part of a clan's herd." A frown furrowed his brow and dragged down the corners of his mouth, his dark eyes becoming distant and unfocused as if lost in memory, "I recognize this curling pattern. Perhaps that is what brought the Dalish hunters to this area in the first place, a search for their missing halla. And if they thought the villagers had anything to do with the halla's deaths... Maker help any humans they encountered."

Zoya swallowed hard, kneeling beside Duncan as she ran her fingers along a smooth horn. "Do you think the humans killed the halla?"

Duncan shrugged, his hand dragging over his beard. "I doubt it. The halla are naturally wary of all but the clan they travel with. And even if the villagers had managed to track and kill them, they would have butchered the animals, or taken the antlers at the very least." His hand lingered over the gaping throat wound, "No, it's more likely these halla were killed by wolves or another predator."

"Should we do something with the bodies? It just doesn't seem right to leave them here like this." Zoya grimaced, her gut churning as she forced the suggestion through clenched teeth. "I could immolate them like… well… like the dead villagers." She'd been surprised the day before when Duncan requested she use her magic to burn the humans' bodies. Even now bile rose in her throat at the memory of her power consuming their ravaged corpses.

Shaking his head, Duncan laid a comforting hand on her arm. "That won't be necessary. The Dalish believe that the dead should be returned to the earth." He rose to his feet, his focus returning to the path up the mountain. "We need to get to those caves. The darkspawn corruption is getting stronger."

The increased tangle of thorny vines as they moved further along the path only added to the vile aura spilling toward them. The black vines strangled the tall, stone pillars that came into view as they rounded the corner. Zoya's eyes traveled upward in wonder, following the lines of the granite structure cutting into the sky. She turned to Duncan. "What is this place? Who lived here? What happened for them to leave?"

Duncan chuckled at the rush of questions. For a moment, Zoya saw her old mentor glinting through his dark eyes. "All fine questions, little magpie. I've encountered ruins like this elsewhere, and your mother and I explored many during our adventures together. She thought they were Tevinter, the stonework and carvings are apparently like what she saw there…"

"Wait… my mother was in Tevinter?" Zoya's jaw dropped. Her mother had never spoken of living anywhere beside the Alienage, although Zoya knew she hadn't lived there her whole life.

"Adaia didn't tell you?" He loosed a heavy sigh, "She never was very forthcoming about her past. But this is hardly the time or place to discuss such things." Duncan flinched away from Zoya's glare, running a hand over his hair before tugging at his beard in thought as if trying to decide how much information to share. "She was born a slave there, but she escaped with Alarith and a couple of others when she was young."

"My mother was a Tevinter slave?"' Zoya's mouth went dry, and she struggled to put together pieces of her memory. She knew the shopkeeper was related to her mother, although nobody ever discussed how. And she'd grown up hearing stories of Alarith's escape from enslavement in Tevinter and his rescue by the Dalish after the caravan he'd been traveling with had been attacked by bandits. But no one else was ever named in those tales. "The Dalish… my mother lived with the Dalish as well, didn't she?"

"Yes, as well as other places. In fact, I believe that the halla we found belonged to the clan who gave her shelter on more than one occasion." His face twisted as if he was in pain.

Zoya stumbled as a sharp thorn raked through her hair, its hold on her braid yanking her to a halt. Her hand leapt up to search for any sign of a wound; finding none, she pulled the thick plait free with a grunt of frustration. "Perhaps you're right, and this isn't the time or place to talk about my mother. But that doesn't mean you're off the hook – I need you to tell me more, Duncan. You're the only one who can."

The Warden only nodded his agreement, avoiding her eyes as he scanned their surroundings.

Signs that others had traveled this way before them became more apparent – a piece of torn cloth here, a broken bit of vine there, and the dark stain of old blood on more than one thorn. It was deadly quiet, and Zoya found herself holding her breath.

The shadowed maw of the cave loomed on the far side of the thorns. Zoya followed Duncan as they wove their way through the vines, a task that put the slender elf at a advantage so long as she kept her focus on what she was doing. Zoya peered into the dark opening of the cave, unable to see anything in the inky blackness. The air smelled foul, nothing but death and decay.

Had she lost her blighted mind? Why had she ever agreed to enter this place? "Umm… Duncan?" Zoya turned to the Warden with outrageously wide eyes and a melodramatic tone. "I think I'm ready to get back to the highway now."

Duncan laughed quietly, indicating with a dramatic flourish that she should proceed into the ruins.

Well, she supposed she couldn't be lucky enough to stay in the land of butterflies and bubbling brooks forever. Her eyes slipped shut, and she took a deep breath. Slowing the frantic beating of her heart, she called on her magic, setting her hands aglow. Creeping feet felt their way down the crumbling slope, shadows lurching against the rough stone walls of the tunnel. The gloom was oppressive even in the blue glow, and Zoya fought the overwhelming urge to cling to Duncan.

When their descent ended, they found themselves standing in an entry chamber. Rubble was scattered along the tiled floor, and swirling carvings laced over stone columns flanking a large doorway, the heavy wood and metal door long ago fallen to decay. Zoya gasped as the light reflected off a row of beady eyes now clouding in death. Calling more light to trembling hands, her eyes froze on three enormous spiders, their spindly legs curled against bulbous bodies peppered with Dalish arrows. "Andraste's flaming bits! I didn't know they got so big…"

Duncan grimaced, "These are actually small for their kind. The Dalish must have triggered their trap. Do us both a favor - don't touch the webs."

Zoya followed his eyes upward, recoiling as she saw the cocoons hanging from the high ceiling. Her voice hissed from a constricting throat, "The Dalish?"

"I don't believe so. Those bundles look too old." His hand convulsed on his sword's hilt, and his mouth twisted into a wry grin when he noticed Zoya watching him. "I've never much cared for spiders, especially ones this size."

Dread hung thick in the air, the feeling very much like the repository under the Denerim chantry. Every fiber of her being screamed in warning - they were idiots to enter this place. It was one thing to follow Duncan on this darkspawn hunt, but to add demons to the list of enemies they were likely to encounter… From what she'd been told, darkspawn were monstrous but could be killed like any other living creature. Demons were a different story - she wasn't eager to try her luck against more of the devious spirits.

Zoya flinched as dark magic slithered over her, the greasy blackness a noxious film that coated her skin. Sucking a breath between clenched teeth, she stilled hands that moved of their own volition to scrub at her leather-clad arms. Could Duncan feel it? Was this anything like what the darkspawn corruption felt like to him? The urge to claw at her own flesh grew, but she fought it, certain that she could scour her skin raw and still not free herself of this pestilence. Shaking hands slid to her daggers, the tingle of the runed blades offering comfort as she clenched glowing fists around their hilts.

They moved along the tunnels, slipping between the tangled webbing and maneuvering over the rubble. Desiccated corpses littered the floor in places, some of the bodies studded with Dalish arrows and still oozing remnants of demonic power. Zoya swallowed her fear as memories of the desire demon she'd encountered below Denerim's chantry raked over her, sharp as the creature's claws. The thought of an impending attack by demon animated corpses sent shudders through already tense muscles. Her hands were starting to cramp from the tightness of her grip on her daggers' hilts.

Her voice rang harsh in the tomb-like silence, "It seems that our Dalish friends have been busy." She gestured at the arrow-riddled remains.

Duncan grunted in agreement, "There does seem to have been plenty of demonic activity. But we've seen no evidence of darkspawn. They're here in the ruins though - I can feel it…"

As if summoned by the Warden's words, a rumbling roar rolled through the tunnel. Zoya could feel the creature's approach through vibrations in the stone. She shot a panicked glance at Duncan, "Maker's balls! What is it? Other than huge and angry…"

Tightening his grip on his sword, Duncan reached for his dagger and dropped into a lower stance. "Add corrupted – do you need to know more?"

Zoya sheathed her daggers and retrieved her bow, nocking an arrow. The fletching tickled against her lips as she spoke, "I suppose not. I guess I was hoping that you'd tell me I was wrong and shouldn't be concerned, or that its roar was probably worse than its bite."

The Warden chuckled, "Sorry to disappoint."

The creature that barreled around the corner of the tunnel was a spiky nightmare on legs, all claws and teeth and spines somehow held together by deteriorating flesh. Zoya gagged as its stench hit her. She loosed an arrow, watching it strike the creature within inches of a handful of Dalish arrows.

The beast reared onto its hind legs, its teeth bared in a menacing growl. Zoya's legs threatened to buckle under her as she stared up into fangs and claws, each as long as a sword. Her hands shook as she nocked another arrow.

"Don't bother with those – the arrows won't cause enough damage to slow this monster down. Try attacking its flank while I draw its attention." Duncan charged the creature with a defiant shout, ducking under a swipe of its deadly claws as he slashed and stabbed with his blades.

With Duncan so close to the creature, Zoya didn't dare to use any offensive magic. And with the demonic energy fouling the ruins, she didn't want to risk going into the Between to sneak behind it. Hoping that Duncan could hold the monster's attention, she hugged the wall and used the rubble to hide her progress as she crept past.

The beast was only slightly less terrifying from behind; wicked spines had erupted along its backbone and flanks. She picked her point of attack, waiting for the creature to rear up again. When the moment came, she launched herself from a chunk of stone, crashing into a spot along the spinal spikes. Her daggers curled between its ribs to anchor her to the rotting flesh, and she gagged at the stench that was far worse up close than it had been from a distance. The monster howled and stumbled backward, trying to use the statues along the tunnel's wall to tear her away. Its vicious spikes became a shelter as she clung with desperation to her daggers, using them to drag her toward the creature's head.

Duncan struck each time the beast tried to brush her away, slicing at the creature with his more threatening sword and redirecting its rage toward himself. Zoya reached the creature's shoulder hump and wrapped her legs around its neck. A cold pit grew in her gut as she considered that she wouldn't be able to hold on if it pitched forward, but perhaps the beast would realize that as well. When it finally threw its head toward the ground, Zoya pulled her daggers free and directed them toward the base of the monster's skull, using its own momentum against it. Rolling off the creature's back, she found herself nearly upside down against the tunnel wall, watching as it twitched once and went still.

"Congratulations, little magpie. You've killed your first darkspawn of sorts - a bereskarn or corrupted bear." Duncan wiped his blades on a bit of mangy fur on one of the creature's legs. "That was reckless, Zoya. I'm sure you think you're really something, taking down a monster like that." His stern glare softened and he chuckled, "But I'll really be impressed when you defeat a dragon that way."

Zoya pulled shaking legs beneath her, bracing herself against the tunnel wall as she rose to her feet. "No, what would be impressive is if I could do that and not need to change my smallclothes afterwards."

A rasping groan echoed through the tunnel, and cold fingers clenched her heart. Zoya yanked her blades free from the bereskarn, letting her ears guide her to the source of the ragged breathing. An elf lay curled among the rubble - perhaps he was one of the Dalish they sought. Sheathing her blades, she dropped to her knees beside him and brushed the long, dark hair back from his face. She didn't need her healing magic to tell her that his wounds were terrible. Long gashes, likely from the bereskarn, covered him from head to toe. Calling on her power, she sent it over the elf, the golden light blanketing him as she set to work knitting torn flesh.

The elf gasped, haunted eyes looking past her, his hands gripping her arms tightly. "Tamlen… don't leave me… Tamlen… ma sa'leth… help…" Refocusing dark, bleary eyes on Zoya, he locked her in place with a vengeful glare. "Ma emma harel!" He shuddered and slipped back into a fitful sleep.

Zoya turned to Duncan. "Do you know what he's saying? The Dalish stuff, I mean…"

"I think he said something about his only love. And the last part was a threat of sorts, something like 'fear me.'" Her mentor shrugged, "I've only picked up a few words here and there over the years."

"Given the way he was looking at me, I assumed the last bit wasn't friendly." She shot Duncan a lopsided grin that quickly faded. "Do you suppose the second Dalish is around here somewhere? We should try to find him as well." Zoya's eyes peered into the shadows of the tunnel.

"We didn't see another elf on our way here, and the ruins ahead are thick with darkspawn. If he's further down the tunnel, there's no chance he's still alive." He rested a reassuring hand on Zoya's shoulder. "It could be the second elf went back to the clan for help. Maybe that's why this one said 'Don't leave.'"

Zoya nodded; it was as good an explanation as any, but she had her doubts. "But then why didn't we encounter him on the trail on the way up to the ruins?"

"Perhaps there's another entrance." Duncan frowned, "But we'll keep watch for him as we move further into the tunnels."

"You still want us to head further into the ruins? I thought you said there were more darkspawn in that direction." Zoya's blood ran cold, the thought of diving into a tunnel filled with the hideous creatures twisting in her gut. "I don't think we should take him further in. I've healed his injuries, but there's something else… it feels… wrong. It's evading my magic." Zoya grimaced as the golden aura of her power lingered over the prone elf, the malevolent foulness slipping away from her magic. She'd never felt anything like this - a putrid poison that moved as if alive, eluding her healing powers only to circle back to surround and consume it.

"We won't be taking the Dalish with us – he's a lost cause." The Warden gripped her shoulders, twisting her to face him. "Our only duty is to destroy the corruption in these ruins. If we don't stop it here, the darkspawn will overrun the forest, which will put everyone in the area at risk. And the last thing we need is a concentration of darkspawn this far north, behind our lines."

"You can't be suggesting we abandon him here – he'll die, Duncan! What do you mean lost cause? How could you possibly know that?" Zoya jerked her shoulders free, renewing her magical attack on the foul darkness within the Dalish.

Duncan turned a sympathetic gaze on the young elf. "I can feel the corruption spreading within him. If we don't put him out of his misery, he'll die either die a painful death or turn into a ghoul, which would be a far worse fate." He waved off her protests, "Zoya, I've seen this before, more times than I care to recall. If you don't believe what I'm telling you, let your magic tell you - let it encounter the Taint within me."

Zoya chewed her lip as she regarded the dark-haired elf. Her eyes slid shut as she shifted her hands away from him, reaching out toward Duncan with her magic. As she encouraged it to wash over the Warden, he tensed, flinching back from the golden glow. But instead of the corruption she sensed in the Dalish, its foul blackness moving to counter her magic, she felt something different. It was still a darkness, but as her magic touched it, it resonated with her power instead of fighting against it. She loosed a sigh as she tried to understand what she was sensing – it wasn't fouling him, it had joined with him much the same way her own magic was a part of her very blood, tissues and bones.

Dark eyes glittered with unspent tears as grief twisted Duncan's features. He shook his head roughly, clearing his throat. "There… do you feel the truth of what I'm telling you?"

The odd thought popped unbidden into her head – perhaps there was something important she was missing, a piece to a riddle she didn't even know she'd been trying to solve. Maybe if she let the magic linger a bit longer or sent it deeper… Zoya reluctantly withdrew the healing energy, knowing this wasn't the time or the place to satisfy her curiosity. "I'm not sure – it feels so different…" Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve before turning back to the Warden. "Duncan, I beg you… help me get this elf back to his clan. I don't think I can do it on my own, but I'll try if you don't agree to help me." She grasped his hands with hers, "I truly believe there's a chance to help him. If I lure the corruption away with my magic, perhaps I can find a way to contain it."

"You wouldn't be the first mage to try that." He stared down at their hands for a moment before speaking again. "There is possibly another option. The Dalish has managed to fight the corruption this long, so perhaps if he went through the Joining, that would stop its spread."

Zoya's head snapped up to meet his gaze. "You think it would help – that the Joining will cure him?" Her eyes were almost aglow with renewed hope. "You did say you needed Wardens, and I would imagine he's someone who likely has valuable skills. Just look at the creatures he and his partner killed, how far he made it into the ruins."

"There is no cure for the darkspawn corruption, but going through the Joining will help him survive it." He dropped his gaze back to the young hunter. "I'll help you get this elf to his clan and speak to his Keeper about him becoming a Grey Warden. The last thing I want to do is anger the Dalish with an unnecessary Conscription." He silenced her with a raised hand as she started to thank him. "But in return, you'll help me by sealing off these ruins temporarily until we can come back to eliminate the darkspawn threat in these tunnels permanently."

Zoya's mind raced. How could she seal the ruins? She considered erecting a barrier, but that would have limited longevity. No, the best way would be to fracture the stone at the tunnel's entrance. A dull ache set to throbbing in her chest at this reminder of her misadventures with Anders – she would be using the same trick she used to seal her former companions away from the Templars. Swallowing hard, she chased the memories away before they could start. "Agreed. I think if I collapse the cave mouth, it should stop the darkspawn temporarily. It should hold them until after we return him to his clan and come back to investigate, don't you think?"

Duncan rubbed at his beard. "Assuming there's only one entrance to these ruins, that should work. You'll be able to clear the rubble when we return?"

"The same principle would follow – I'd just need to fracture the stone again to create an opening for us to get through." She offered a wry grin, "I'm guessing any mage could do it."

He gripped her shoulder, "Don't downplay your skills. I wouldn't recruit just any mage into the Wardens." Releasing her with a bit of a shake, he bent down to pull the Dalish over his shoulder. "I'll need you to take the lead. We shouldn't encounter anything else on the return trip, but you're more likely to hear anything approach and can deal with it from a distance."

Zoya nodded, guiding them back along the tunnel as quickly as caution would allow. She led them around the webbing that would call the giant spiders from their hidey-holes, her eyes and ears straining for any other sign of traps or attacks. Other than stopping as the Dalish groaned in his delirium, trying yet again to lure the corruption away from vital organs, their return trip to the ruin's entrance passed without incident.

The sun had passed behind the mountain, and the shadows had grown deep and dark around the tunnel mouth. Zoya rested a hand against the chilled stone of the entrance, "You may want to take the Dalish and get out of here." She offered a lopsided grimace, "This might crush everything within a couple hundred paces, or at least make a huge mess."

Her eyes slipped shut as she dug deep, calling the magic forth and channeling it into the rock. Directing the flow of power through the stone, she searched for weak spots that would allow her to break the rock apart. Nodding at Duncan, who had finally reached a safe distance, she fed more power into the stone. The granite groaned, sharp flakes popping loose as her magic wedged into the fissures, forcing the cracks wider. As chunks of rock fell, filling the cave opening, Zoya slipped into the undulating pressure of the Between.

Zoya re-emerged into the mundane world within arm's reach of where she'd seen Duncan hunker down with the elf. Even at this distance, a cloud of dust swirled in the breeze, settling in a fine layer on every surface. She could feel the grit clinging to already filthy skin. Maker's breath, she would give up supper for a week in exchange for a long, hot bath.

Twining her fingers with the elf's, Zoya sent her magic into their joined hands and felt the bulk of the corruption gathering, as if drawn by her power. She fought against the urge to pull free as the foulness slowly devoured her magic. They'd need to find the Dalish clan quickly, perhaps enlisting the help of the Keeper, if the elf was to have any chance for survival.

A/N: Thank you to my awesome beta Eve Hawke and beta sister Etaine M. - Your patience is astounding - I love you both! And thank you, as always, to the folks who continue to read, review, favorite and follow. *hugs and smooches*