Zoya stumbled along the forest path, one slender hand clinging to the unconscious elf slung over Duncan's shoulder. While their connection was the very thing sapping her stamina, her tenacious grip was what kept her upright. The corruption within the Dalish was now devouring her magic almost as fast as she pulled it through the Veil. She'd never tried to sustain a healing like this before, and she was nearly done in from the effort. But every time she pulled free, the pollution in his blood spread again. The image crept into her mind of the relentless enemy she fought - oily black tendrils winding their way around the Dalish's heart, choking the life and light from him. No one deserved a death like that.

Her foot tangled in a root, and she tumbled forward, her hand tearing free from the elf as it shot out to block her from falling on her face. The path's crumbled stone pressed into her palms, and her head drooped. Weary limbs trembled as she fought to summon the strength to rise back to her feet, a frustrated groan escaping her lips as she came up empty.

"Zoya, you need to rest." Duncan's dark brow furrowed as he regarded her with concern, lowering the Dalish to the ground. After rummaging in his pack, he pressed a small vial into her hand.

Nodding her thanks as she sat back on her haunches, Zoya popped the cork and tossed the glowing blue liquid back in a single gulp. The bitter elixir burned a trail down her throat, bubbling and churning in the pit of her stomach. Andraste's flaming ass… anything that felt so horrendous going down couldn't possibly be healthful. But the vile fluid was a necessary evil if she was going to keep the elf alive long enough to return him to his clan. She wondered if the potion would continue to glow in her gut – she hoped she'd never find out.

Pressing a hand to her chest, she felt a sudden thrill as the magic lurched back to life within her. There was always a moment after she choked down one of those potions that she felt invincible, when she wanted to throw her head back with a howl and lash out toward the heavens with her renewed power. Gritting her teeth and taking a deep breath, she brought the magic back under control.

The Warden watched her from where he sat on the trunk of a downed tree, stilling her with a simple gesture of his hand as she shifted to rise to her feet. Mahogany eyes searched her face as he tossed her a waterskin. "How are you feeling?"

"I've felt worse. I'm more embarrassed over diving face-first into the trail than anything else." The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she peered at her hands, brushing away bits of rock and dirt. "It's our Dalish friend we need to be concerned about."

His eyes were fixed on her as she drank, "It's you I'm concerned about at the moment. You're wearing yourself down. And for what? To keep this elf, who you don't even know, alive. You can't save everyone, Zoya."

A chill shuddered over her. Maker's ass, were their efforts for nothing? "Are you saying that he's beyond saving? I thought there was a chance to help him if we could get him to Ostagar for the Joining."

"I thought there was, but at the rate you're burning through mana…" Duncan's jaw clenched under his beard, and his eyes narrowed. "I won't sacrifice your life for his."

Zoya hadn't considered that her fight to keep the elf alive would put her in danger. Chewing at her lip, she considered her next words. "And what makes my life more valuable than his? Isn't it likely that he has loved ones, a family who would mourn him if he died? Isn't there a possibility that he could be an important ally against the Blight?" She lifted her gaze to meet Duncan's, raising her hand to silence him as his mouth opened to speak. "Besides, I seem to remember you recently reminding me that magic is mind over matter – that I just needed to imagine what I want, and then will it to be so. And right now, I'm focusing my will on helping this elf survive. I know I'm not a Grey Warden yet, but you always told me that the Wardens do what they must to protect the world from the darkspawn threat. That's a huge responsibility, but not so frightening if I do it one person at a time."

Duncan stared off into the distance, stroking his beard as he mulled her words. "One of the difficult things about being a Warden is that we're often called upon to make difficult decisions, to weigh the needs of the few against the needs of the many, to consider the long-term consequences of our actions." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "By wearing yourself down, you're needlessly putting yourself, and perhaps all of us, in danger. How will your decisions affect the larger fight against the Blight?" His face softened for a moment, "And unrelated to duty, consider how recklessly throwing your life away will affect those who care about you."

"I'm not being careless, Duncan." Zoya took a deep breath, "I promise that I won't push myself beyond what I know I can handle. But please know – as long as I think there's a chance, I'm not giving up on him."

Duncan shook his head, rising to his feet and moving to stand over her. "You're a stubborn woman, Zoya Tabris."

"I like to think it adds to my charm." She winked as she grasped Duncan's offered hand, letting him pull her to unsteady feet. "We're getting close to the Dalish camp, right?"

Duncan stooped to drag the Dalish back onto his shoulder as Zoya watched in amazement. Did the human ever tire? The elf might have the slender build of their kind, but he was still taller and more muscular than Zoya, weighing ten stone at least.

Effortlessly shifting the elf's weight, Duncan peered skyward, "If the villager's directions are to be trusted, we should be there well before sunset. Unless I end up hauling two elves through the forest on my back instead of one…"

They continued to trudge along the zig-zagging game trail as the shadows lengthened and the sky blazed pink. The effects of each potion seemed to be lasting for less time than the one before, and it wasn't long before the tingling in Zoya's limbs threatened to crumple her again. Not wanting to risk another bout of clumsiness, she laid a hand on Duncan's arm to let him know they needed to halt for a moment so she could delve into her pack for another potion.

Her ears perked, fingers tightening on Duncan's arm, at the sound of live wood and leaves brushing against a hard surface. The subtle noises coming from the dense vegetation along the trail just ahead froze her in place. Who was stalking them? Whoever it was, it was likely they hadn't been trailing them for long or Zoya would have heard them. Apparently there were others in the forest who weren't entirely successful in masking their movement.

Nocking an arrow, she stepped between the Warden and their potential hunter, wincing as the creak of her bow tore through the silence. She shot a wry grin at Duncan over her shoulder - it was a good thing they were no longer trying to hide.

Dalish hunters materialized out of the brush, bows leaping to the ready as they fanned out to block the path. Watching them warily, her eyes narrowed as she considered the best course of action. She swallowed hard - her magic was nearly spent and she counted six bows to her one. No… entering a fight would be foolhardy. But Zoya knew she could pull Duncan into the Between to avoid an attack if needed. If nothing else, the sudden appearance of these possibly hostile elves sent renewed energy flooding back into her limbs. It lent her a brash courage, and she felt the corners of her mouth twitch upward as a strange anticipation settled over her.

One of the leather-clad hunters strode toward her, a hand raised. "Hold outsider." He regarded her with an icy blue glare, his scowl contorting the tattooed lines on his face. "You may be one of my kind, but you are no Dalish. Why are you here?"

Zoya knew she should take a deep breath before she opening her mouth to speak, that she should ignore the anger flaring in response to his haughty tone. But after she'd spent most of the afternoon keeping his clansman alive, the Dalish's contempt was putting her in a less than diplomatic mood. "Hello to you, too."

Duncan loosed something between an exasperated sigh and a groan. Even with her back to the Warden, she could almost see him wearily dragging a hand across his face, not that it did anything to still her sassy tongue. She quirked an eyebrow at the elf, "You know… tales of Dalish hospitality don't do justice to the warmth of your welcome. And here I was, worrying that your greeting would be less than enthusiastic, that you might treat even a fellow elf with suspicion. How silly of me…"

The hunter's lips curled in a snarl, "Flat ears like you are little different from their shemlen masters. I ask you one last time – why are you here?" His eyes snapped toward Duncan as the human silently moved out of the shadows to stand next to Zoya. "I said hold, shem!"

Another of the hunters, a blond-haired elf with swirling black lines covering her face, loudly sucked air between her clenched teeth. "Fenarel! The shem has Theron!"

The elf that she'd called Fenarel speared them with a glare, his face twisted in fury as his hand leapt to his bow, "Explain yourself!"

Duncan took another step forward, resting a hand on Zoya's arm before raising it in a gesture of surrender. Zoya reluctantly lowered her bow, watchful eyes fixed on the hunters as she prepared to sweep them both into the Between. His voice was calm but firm when he spoke, "We've come to speak with your Keeper – it's important that we do so immediately. Your clansman's life hangs in the balance. He was badly injured, and while my ward was able to heal his wounds, he's still very ill."

"Why should we believe you, shem?" Fenarel's brow furrowed, "What if you are the ones who harmed him? I cannot risk bringing you into the camp."

Zoya's jaw dropped. Was this elf going to refuse help to his own clansman? Her temper fraying at the edges, she growled, "Don't be an idiot! If we meant him harm, would we have brought him in search of your camp?" She closed her eyes and took a deep breath – this arguing was getting them nowhere, and the corruption within the elf was only going to continue to spread as they stood around yammering. "Please…. You can bind me, hold me as a hostage – I don't care! But please don't let your fear doom him. We've fought too hard to keep him alive."

Duncan shot her an annoyed look, "I won't allow you to be bound or taken hostage." He turned impassive eyes on the elves in front of him, "Is Marethari still the Keeper of this clan?"

Fenarel's face paled, "How do you know the Keeper's name?"

"If you won't allow us into the camp, please send word to your Keeper that Duncan of the Grey Wardens has asked to speak with her immediately." Duncan's voice took on a more commanding tone as he spoke, his face grim.

"A Grey Warden?" Fenarel swallowed hard, "I will take you to the Keeper, but our hunters will be watching you." He directed his comrades with a flick of his hand to retrieve their unconscious clansman from Duncan.

They entered the camp flanked by an armed escort. Zoya's curious eyes flitted over her surroundings. It wasn't hard to see where the stories of Dalish savagery originated. Beyond the less than welcoming attitude, many of the adult elves bristled with weapons, their leather armor and tattooed faces only making them more intimidating. Even so, children laughed as they darted between the landships, and unarmed elves sang and amiably chattered as they gathered around the large fire near the camp's center.

A sudden longing for home, for family and friends, clenched her heart - she could almost smell the cheap ale and hear Shianni's sweet voice leading a bawdy drinking song.

Their guards guided them to a landship near the camp's center. A pair of elven women stood near its entrance ramp, engaged in a heated but hushed discussion. The elder of the two ended it with a stern gesture of her hand, turning toward the approaching group with an expectant look.

Fenarel strode ahead of the group, "Keeper, we found these intruders outside the camp. They claim to be Grey Wardens and that they found Theron. They also claim that he was already wounded, that this…" He gave Zoya a disapproving look, "This... elf… healed him, but that he is still in danger."

The woman he'd called Keeper moved on graceful feet toward the hunters, glowing hands fluttering over the unconscious elf. A frown tugged at her lips as her magic flowed over him. "Please take him into my aravel and then leave us." Moss-colored eyes grew wide in recognition as they fixed on Duncan and Zoya.

"Greetings, Keeper Marethari." Duncan crossed his arms and bowed deeply.

The elder woman offered a regal nod of her silvered head, "Andaran atish'an, Duncan of the Grey Wardens." The Keeper's gaze settled on Zoya, the disquieting weight of that stare sending tremors through her body. The elf's overwhelming power shimmered in the air between them, and Zoya's magic writhed under her skin, begging to be set free.

Duncan's tone was still formal when he spoke, "I'd like to introduce you-"

The Keeper's delicate hand gestured for silence, "There is no need. This young elf is Zoya, I would imagine." She paused as Duncan nodded, "She looks so much like her mother." Her eyes were hopeful as they cast about, "Is Adaia with you?"

Duncan swallowed hard as he shifted his eyes downward, his voice gruff, "I'm sorry to say that Adaia died some years back."

The Keeper's hand clenched over her heart, her eyes glinting with sudden tears. "Emma ir abelas - I am so very sorry to hear that." She took a deep breath, folding trembling hands as her gaze shifted from her landship to Zoya. "It seems that I am once again in your debt, Duncan. Ma serannas - thank you for returning these lost children of our clan."

Zoya quirked an eyebrow as she looked around her, "Children?"

"Yes, children. Does she not know?" Marethari gave Duncan an inquiring look, not speaking again until he offered a terse shake of his head. "While she may not have lived among us for very long, Adaia was a part of this clan. You are her daughter, and were born amongst us – I held you in these very hands as you entered this world."

Zoya gaped stupidly at the elder elf, "I don't understand… I was born among the Dalish? If that's true, why have I spent my entire life in the Alienage?" The air suddenly seemed too thin, her focus drawn to her laboring heart and the numbness spreading from her hands and up her arms. She turned desperate eyes toward Duncan, but he avoided her gaze. It couldn't be true – her mother would have told her such a thing. And if there was a home to be had among the Dalish, she was sure her mother would have chosen the freedom of the forest over the squalor of the Alienage.

The Keeper's lilting voice pulled Zoya out of her thoughts, "All in good time, da'len. We have a wounded hunter to treat. Have you exhausted your magic?"

Andraste's flaming bits, they've no intention of answering any of my questions! A scowl tugged at a mouth that had suddenly become very dry. Maybe it was time she stood her ground, demanded that she be told every last secret kept from her before she provided any more help. Searching eyes settled on the Warden and Keeper, but their faces were like stone walls.

Zoya swallowed back the frustrated words that had risen like bile in her throat, knowing she couldn't let anyone suffer just to get answers about something that was in her past. "I… I just need another potion," Zoya's stomach interrupted her words with audible grumbling as she caught a whiff of meat cooking on the spit. A wry grimace came unbidden to her lips, "And maybe something to eat, and then I should be good to go for a bit longer, I think."

"She needs to rest, Marethari." Duncan regarded Zoya with a furrowed brow, "She's been pushing herself too hard-"

The Keeper's tone brooked no argument. "I'm sensing the darkspawn corruption in Theron and will need her help, Duncan." She beckoned to the young elf standing near the entrance of the landship. "Merrill, stop lurking about! Make yourself useful and show the Grey Warden to an aravel and fetch him something to eat. Then you will need to bring Zoya and me dinner as well. We have a long evening ahead of us." Marethari's eyes narrowed as they swept the camp, "And bring Tamlen to me as well. I have questions for him about what happened to Theron."

The dark-haired elf's face looked pinched as she twisted her fingers nervously, "Ma nuvenin, Keeper. But I have not seen Tamlen return."

Marethari turned an inquiring eye toward Zoya and Duncan in turn, "Did he not return with you?"

Zoya's gut churned, "The elf we found… Theron? He mentioned a Tamlen, but he was delirious. We hoped he may have been a companion who returned here for help. But we didn't see anyone else in the ruins."

The Keeper offered a sad nod, "Yes, Theron Mahariel-"

"The old Keeper's son?" Duncan's eyes widened in surprise, "I didn't recognize him, but then he was just starting to walk and talk when I saw him last. As I recall, Adaia was particularly fond of the child. It tore her apart to leave him behind when she returned to the Alienage. I'm sorry we didn't find him sooner."

"As am I, although I doubt it will make a difference in the end. I should be thankful you found him at all." A speculative look settled on the Keeper's face, her eyes distant as a finger curled over her lips. "You said you found him alone in some ruins? I do not recall anything like that near here. And Tamlen would never have voluntarily left Theron's side." The Keeper turned her attention toward the younger Dalish woman, her tone turning stern. "Merrill, please tell Fenarel to gather a party of hunters to begin the search for Tamlen. He can get directions to the ruins from the Grey Warden."

Duncan shook his head, "I would advise against any of your people entering the ruins until Zoya and I can go with them. We were hunting darkspawn when we came upon Theron. The tunnels have been sealed to keep them contained until we return."

"Ma nuvenin, Warden. I have no interest in sending my people into a darkspawn nest, to infect more of them with that filth. If you will tell the hunters where these ruins are, they can focus their search between there and the camp." She nodded to Duncan as she slipped her slender arm through Zoya's. "Come da'len. Let us see to Theron."

~oOo~

Duncan paced in front of the aravel, muttering angrily to himself. The idea that he'd been asked to leave his and Adaia's shared quarters vexed him to no end. Sure, he'd been fidgety while the three elven women quietly conferred, but was that any reason for them to kick him out? What could they possibly be doing or saying that he couldn't be privy to? And who could blame him for being restless? They'd been whispering and poking at Adaia with their magic for hours.

It was Fiona's raven-haired head that finally emerged from the aravel. His fellow Grey Warden's expression was maddeningly neutral as she approached, gesturing for him to take a seat on a nearby log.

Soulful brown eyes searched his face for a moment before she turned away, her fingers tightening around the staff across her lap. "You were right to send for me."

A band tightened around Duncan's chest, pushing his heart into his throat. "Out with it, Fiona."

"Don't get growly with me, Duncan." She raised an eyebrow as she turned to face him. "If Adaia was infected with the darkspawn corruption, there's no longer any sign of it. She's a brilliant healer, but I've never heard of any that can cleanse the body of that filth – perhaps temporarily contain it, but not remove it completely."

Duncan loosed a sigh of relief, "Well that's good news then. And what about the baby?"

Fiona's fingers drummed along the smooth wood of her staff as she considered her words. "Did you know who Adaia is descended from?"

"She did say something about it when we first met, but I was a bit distracted at the time." He had to fight back a chuckle in response to the elf's incredulous expression. His and Adaia's pre-Deep Roads tryst in the Circle Tower, which was regrettably interrupted by Commander Genevieve, had earned him quite a bit of teasing from his fellow Wardens. Strangely enough, he always wondered if they would have dropped it if he'd shown the least bit of shame or remorse about the incident instead of an obvious longing to return and finish what was started. "Why? What does it matter who she's descended from?"

"I've been working on this theory about children that are born to Wardens after the Joining. My research suggests there is some sort of resistance to the darkspawn corruption that Wardens pass on to their offspring, that it might last for generations."

"Hold up…" Duncan rubbed at his jaw, his eyes growing wide. "If that's the case, then why would we even need the Joining? The descendents of Grey Wardens would have the benefits of being a Warden with none of the downsides-"

"I didn't say they were completely immune, just less likely to get sick." She rolled her eyes as Duncan shook his head in confusion. "Think about it like bloodlines with magic. Not all children of mages have magic, and not all mages are capable of wielding the same level of mana." Fiona leaned in closer, her voice hushed. "Duncan, I looked at the Grey Warden rosters going back to the beginning of the order. And I found something else, something I don't think I was supposed to see - geneaologies of nearly every Warden and Warden recruit over the ages." The elf's mouth twisted," Someone has gone to a lot of trouble to gather this information and keep it hidden. And what I noticed was that children from Warden parents are rare, but there are some commonalities among many of those who survive the Joining-"

Duncan quirked a dark eyebrow, "A Warden ancestor?" He'd often wondered what made him so confident in his selection of recruits, what made him turn away some hopeful candidates over others. Maybe he was sensing those with an inherited resistance in the same way he could sense darkspawn or other Wardens. But then what about that first generation of Wardens or those who had no Taint in their bloodline? Perhaps some sort of natural resistance? And what about those who died during the Joining?The more he thought about it, the more his head ached.

The elf ran slender fingers through her dark locks as she took a deep breath. "Even so, I thought perhaps it was an anomaly I sensed during my own pregnancy - I was so ill from the unnatural acceleration of the Taint. But now I'm sensing it in Adaia as well. This goes beyond some latent ability to resist the darkspawn corruption, Duncan. Maybe it's a combination of the elven blood, magic, and resistance - I don't know. It's not the Taint, but there is something there… something that originates from the unborn child."

A gentle knock woke Duncan from his slumber. He dragged himself to his feet, careful not to bump his head on the low ceiling of the aravel. Swinging the narrow door open, he was surprised to see Marethari standing there, her face pale and dark shadows under her eyes. He peered around the slender elf, disappointed to see she was alone. "Zoya?"

The elder elf entered the compact quarters without a word, lowering herself to the bench with a sigh. "Zoya is asleep in my aravel. She did not want to leave Theron, and I did not have the heart to remove her when she finally dozed off. I thought this might be a good opportunity for us to speak privately."

"I suspect you have more on your mind than questioning me about the ruins and talking about your young hunter." Duncan retrieved a flask from his pack, handing it to the Keeper.

Marethari gave a nod of thanks before sniffing cautiously at the offered flask. A smile crept across her lips, "MacKay's? I have not had this since you and Adaia were last here. You are still drinking the same poison after all these years?" She took a long pull and passed the flask back to Duncan.

He tipped his head back and took an enthusiastic swig. "A finer whiskey has never been made." He chuckled and rubbed at his beard, "What was it that Adaia used to say? That it was smoother than a baby's backside?"

The Keeper wrapped slender fingers around the flask when Duncan handed it back, taking another swallow, "Than an elven baby's butt." As she returned the flask, the smile fled the woman's face. "Duncan, the girl is filled with questions - ones that should have been answered long ago by either you or Adaia. And she told me she's on her way to Ostagar to become a Warden. She has no idea, does she?"

Duncan took several deep gulps of whiskey, his voice gruff when he answered. "Adaia insisted that Zoya not be told. It wasn't as if there was a compelling reason for her to know - whatever this thing she carries, it doesn't seem to be affecting her in any way."

Marethari waved the offered flask away, her eyes settling on her hands as she considered her words, "But do we know what will happen when she goes through your Joining?" Concern darkened her gaze as it rose to meet his. "She should have been told, Duncan."

"I know of one other with this… affliction, and he made it through the Joining just fine." Duncan absentmindedly traced a thumb over the simple design etched into the metal bottle as he shook his head, "I did consider telling Zoya, but Adaia was worried it might nudge her down a path not of her own choosing."

"A path that she is now on." Marethari laid a delicate hand over Duncan's. "What happened, Duncan?"

"Long story, short?" He locked eyes with the Keeper, his mouth twisting into a grimace. "About five years ago, Zoya was attacked. Even though she was seriously wounded, she somehow managed to defend herself, killing her attackers with magic. To keep Zoya from the Templars' grasp, Adaia gave herself up in the girl's place, taking responsibility for the men's deaths. The Templars killed her when she tried to escape." Duncan shook his head, loosing a heavy sigh, "When I recently returned to Denerim, I learned that Zoya had gotten herself mixed up in some trouble with the Chantry and the Templars. But before I could come to her aid, she escaped the dungeons, killing the arl's son and two other nobles. I conscripted her to save her from execution."

"But for no other reason?" Marethari regarded Duncan in impassive silence, "I understand that Adaia was fond of her secrets." She raised a hand to stop Duncan's objections before they could start. "She may have had a reason to keep some things to herself, but she has been gone for five years. What stopped you from telling Zoya what you know?"

"Respect for Adaia's wishes?" He looked down at his hands to avoid the Keeper's scowl. "I don't know, Marethari. Zoya was so shattered by Adaia's death, and then her father chased me off. What right did I have to force the issue?"

Marethari loosed a quiet snort, "'What right' he asks…" Her grip was surprisingly strong when her hands grasped at his. "Duncan, that child will learn the truth, whether you wish it or not. I loved Adaia, but she was wrong to keep some of the secrets she did. I should never have kept some of the secrets she asked me to." The elf took a deep breath, "There is something you need to know-"

A frantic pounding on the door interrupted the Keeper. She rose to her feet and pulled the door open, annoyance heavy in her tone. "Merrill, what is it?"

"Keeper, Fenarel has returned with shem from the village. They are demanding to see you immediately." The young elf's eyes were wide, her dark hair mussed as if she'd just been woken.

A heavy sigh tore free from the elder elf, "I was hoping we would have more time before the humans arrived looking for justice for their lost men." She regarded Duncan quietly for a moment, "I know it is not your concern, that these are my people, and it is my responsibility to keep them safe. But perhaps the presence of another human, the Grey Warden who helped to save one of their men, would forestall their wrath."

Duncan rose to his feet, "If you believe it would help, I would be glad to accompany you, Keeper."

Marethari bowed her head. "Ma serannas, Duncan. This business with the villagers should not take long." Her slender fingers were chilled when they wrapped around his. "Then we must speak - there is much I must share with you and Zoya while I have the chance."

A/N - Thank you as always to my beta, Eve Hawke, and beta-sister, Etaine M. for their unwavering support and assistance. And thank you to to the folks who took the time to read, review, favorite, and follow. You guys are awesome *hugs*