Eerie amber eyes glared up from a midnight face as Alistair entered the kennel. The quip he'd been saving died on his lips, his heart racing as a low growling filled the enclosure. He took a deep breath and immediately wished he hadn't, nearly gagging as the stench of darkspawn filled his lungs. Maker, this mabari is huge! And apparently part ogre, if smell, size, and attitude are any indication. Keeping the beast in sight, he turned toward Zoya, "You're sure this plan will work?"
"I think it's our only option." The little elf whispered as she slipped quietly into the kennel, her nose crinkling. "If he clamps down on you, his teeth probably won't get through your armor. And if they do… well, you're the one immune to the darkspawn corruption." She pressed a fist against her chest, "But then, I guess I could-"
Alistair's jaw dropped, "You could what? Get mauled and infected? Maker, no!" His outburst was rewarded with the mabari's guttural snarl and gleaming, dagger-like teeth. A cold sweat prickled between his shoulder blades.
Zoya's fingers stole upward to fiddle with a delicate silver necklace, "Alistair, there's something I need to-"
Crossing his arms, Alistair channeled Duncan's steely stare, hoping to stop the argument blooming on her lips. "Forget it! I won't stand by and watch you throw yourself into harm's way for a half-dead dog that would just as soon rip you to shreds!" Guilt tugged at him as her forlorn gaze dropped to the soiled straw at their feet. A corner of his mouth lifted, and he softened his tone, "Not when I can do something about it. You know, you're lucky I have a weakness for damsels in distress. Daveth or Jory could never convince me to go anywhere near that monster."
"I'm no damsel in distress – I can take care of myself!" The elf's lush lower lip jutted as she pressed small fists against her hips.
"I don't doubt it..." Alistair bit back laughter as she struck her childish pose. If she stomps her little foot, I'm not going to be able to keep a straight face. "Maybe I'm the one that needs to be protected. Dogs and I... well, we don't get along, and this one really doesn't seem to like me."
"How could he not?" Zoya muttered, smirking when his eyebrows flew up. "You smell delicious, like mutton stew. I bet he can't wait to get a taste-"
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny." Alistair's stomach flipped as he snuck a glance at the mabari.
"Not to worry, Alistair." Hawke flexed his arms as he rested them on the top of the enclosure, a smug grin twisting his face. "If Jan takes you down, I'll make sure Zoya gets back to the commander in one piece. Maybe you should hand over the silvers you owe me now – it'll be awkward if I have to ransack your mangled corpse in front of the girl."
"Thanks, Hawke. You're a pal." Alistair rolled his eyes. By the Void! The last thing I need right now is Hawke's taunting. I shouldn't let the cocky bastard bait me, especially in front of Zoya. He forced a bland look before raising an eyebrow. "You could make yourself useful - you're the expert, right? Besides, you know this mabari."
"Hmm… what can I tell you about Jan? He's one of the most foul tempered creatures I've ever met, second only to his namesake." Hawke's laughter almost sounded like a bark. "How's this for useful? A bit of advice - scamper off before you get yourself, and your recruit, hurt."
Alistair snuck a glance at Zoya. Everything about that oddly familiar expression - from the tightened jaw to the narrowed eyes and crease between her brows - told him she was not going to budge from healing the hound. "Can't do that, Hawke. The Warden handbook clearly prohibits scampering."
The kennelmaster cleared his throat to get their attention before offering his polite reprimand, "I apologize for the interruption, Wardens, but the mabari could use your help sooner rather than later." When their eyes swung in his direction, he calmly leaned against the rough-hewn posts. "I know he looks frightening, but you'll be fine. Keep your hands in sight and talk softly - slow and steady is the key. He's smart enough to know you're trying to help."
"Easy for you to say, you're not in here with him." Alistair grumbled. As the elf chuckled behind him, his grin returned and the tightness eased in his chest. "You ready, Zoya?"
She swallowed hard, her smile tense as she imitated his voice. "It won't be as bad as you think, trust me."
"What could possibly go wrong?" Alistair gave her a reassuring grin when she quirked an eyebrow. Great… I probably just doomed us both. "Alright, let's get this done so we can get back to what we're supposed to be doing." Please don't let Duncan be back at camp waiting, or worse yet, come looking for us.
As he approached the mabari, he held the muzzle in front of him like an offering. But the hound was unimpressed, white fangs flashing, sharp claws digging into the straw as he tried to drag himself toward them. Pained wheezing interrupted the growls as blood and Maker knew what else welled from the dog's wounds with each movement. Maker! How is he even alive?
He willed himself to sink to his knees beside the beast's massive head. As Zoya reached his side, he raised a hand to shoo her back. "Maybe you should wait until I have him-"
The mabari snarled and lunged toward them. Alistair's shield arm instinctively rose, flashing teeth smashing against it as he put himself in the path of the attack. As he shoved the sullen hound back, putting space between them once more, the sound of fangs scraping against metal echoed.
"Alistair! Are you alright?" Zoya dropped to her knees in front of him, a worried frown twisting her face as deft hands explored his arm.
"I'm fine - my armor took the brunt of it." The corners of his mouth twitched upward as he realized she was actually concerned for him, "But next time I'm bringing my shield."
"Next time, offer him your sword arm - it's not like you've any good use for it!" Hawke called out, a grin splitting his face.
"What an ass!" Zoya glowered.
Well, at least I'm not the one in the path of Zoya's glare. Alistair couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction that she didn't seem to be charmed by the Ash Warrior.
Her face relaxed in contemplation, a dainty finger tapping against her lips as she regarded the mabari, "I wonder… there's this nasty mule that pulls one of the carts for the caravan papa works on. The driver's wife always sings to distract him as he's hitched…"
Zoya held her hands in front of her as she crept toward the mabari, waving off Alistair when he tried to stop her. "Shh…shhh… No one's going to hurt you." Her murmurs shifted into a soft melody that shivered over the kennel, her earthy voice rising and falling with the soothing strains.
Soon, the hound was transfixed, his head swaying slightly with her song. He didn't even flinch when she reached a cautious hand to stroke his side. Rasping whines punctuated his growls, slowing to match its rhythm, as his head lowered to the straw.
With a gentle nod, she beckoned Alistair over, giving him an encouraging smile as he knelt next to her. Despite his heart threatening to pound its way out of his chest, the vulnerable fingers that crept ever closer to those sharp teeth stayed astoundingly steady. He sucked in a breath as he slipped the metal cage of the muzzle over the hound's bloody snout, releasing it only as he slid the leather strap home.
"That's it...sweet boy, pretty boy…" Zoya whispered, wasting no time in calling her power.
A chill raced up his spine, goose bumps rising as the Veil parted in response. Every muscle clenched in anticipation, instincts forged during long years of Templar training screaming at him to dispel the threat. He gritted his teeth as he repeated the words in his head - trust that she means no harm…
She freed the gathered magic with a gentle exhale. The golden light soothed over him like warmth from a hearth, sending his shadow dancing over the enclosure. A thick silence descended as nimble fingers drifted over the shuddering beast from head to stumpy tail. Her eyes were unfocused, almost like a Warden feeling for darkspawn, the pink tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her lips.
When she reached for Alistair's hand, instinct drove him to flinch away from the bright digits. She sighed at his apologetic grimace, a frown tugging at her lips as the light extinguished. Shaking her head sadly, she gestured for him to place his hand behind the mabari's bloodied shoulder. "What do you feel?"
His stomach clenched - the slithering blackness of darkspawn corruption was unmistakable. "Yeah, he's infected." He shot a glance at Hawke and the kennelmaster, ducking his head toward Zoya as he whispered, "I know you won't understand this yet - I shouldn't even be talking about it - but it's different somehow. Given how much time has passed since he was infected and the amount of darkspawn filth on him, it should be raging through him. But it's more like... a burbling in the background than a screaming flood. How's that possible? "
Her brow furrowed as her fingers knotted in the mabari's fur. "I understand better than you'd think. And it's possible." She cut off his budding questions, "Look, now isn't the time to try to explain. He may seem feisty, but it's a front - he's in really bad shape. And darkspawn corruption is the least of his problems. It might take a while to heal him. You don't have to stay…"
Alistair's gut lurched as her fingers probed the gaping mess of the hound's belly. "I'll stay – just tell me what I can do to help."
She nibbled her lip as she peered at him, "Fine. Can you get something to clean him up? While I wish it worked that way, I can't magic the filth away." As her finger probed a broken arrow shaft sticking out from the mabari's neck, his head swung toward her with a growl. "And then I could really use your help with yanking out the arrows. It's going to be difficult, not to mention painful, to pull them free. I doubt he'll be happy about it."
"Who can blame him?" He shot her a lopsided grin, "Maybe he needs you to serenade him again."
"Hasn't the poor thing suffered enough for one day?" She attempted a smile, but only got part way there.
Rising to his feet with a chuckle, Alistair hurried toward the kennelmaster. But a surge of power drew his gaze back to the elf and her reluctant patient. She looked so small and vulnerable tucked up against the huge hound's belly.
"Ready to make your escape, Warden?" Hawke smirked, "Or maybe you just need to change your smallclothes. You know, if you're hoping to win her over-"
"Give it a rest, Hawke. Why don't you go harass some darkspawn instead?" Alistair rolled his eyes at the man's maddening grin before turning to the kennelmaster. "Do you have something we can use to clean the mabari?"
The grizzled man nodded, his fascination with Zoya's actions apparent as he gathered supplies. "You think she can help him, Warden?" He passed a bucket and rags over the fence.
Alistair sent a smile toward the elf's narrow back. "I think if it's a matter of will, he'll soon be back to terrorizing creatures great and small."
The kennelmaster rubbed a hand along his chin, "You know, if he survives, he can probably be re-imprinted if you're interested-"
"As if Jan would ever imprint on this pup," Hawke laughed. "A mabari will only imprint on someone smarter than himself."
"Apparently there are exceptions to that rule." He smirked at the Ash Warrior before turning back to the kennelmaster. "I'm sure he'd be happier spending the rest of his days siring giant offspring. Who am I to stand in the way of that?" Offering the man a small bow, he turned his feet back toward Zoya.
Alistair knelt beside Zoya, dropping a couple of rags into the bucket. The sight of the exotic elf, aglow in her magic's aura, held him enchanted. Her eyes had slipped shut, her face serene, delicate features and copper tendrils of hair highlighted by the golden glow. A lilting tune spun free as she wove her spell.
He waited to speak until she acknowledged him with a silent nod and paused her song, reluctant to break her focus. "Ahh…a classic drinking song. That's one of Odran's favorites. He's one of the Senior Wardens - you'll get to meet him after the Joining."
Zoya's mouth tugged into a lopsided grin, her voice low. "It's the only other thing I could come up with. But he seems to like it - I get the feeling he's a bit of a brawler. Do you suppose he's more of an ale or a whiskey drinker?"
"I'm guessing something with some bite," Alistair chuckled as she shook her head and groaned at his wordplay. He wrung a rag, setting to wiping away caked-on gore. The hound flinched away from the wet cloth's touch but didn't bother turning to look at him. "He seemed to like that first song. I didn't recognize it though - was that Elvish?"
"It's one my mother would sing. No matter how scared or hurt or angry I was, it always soothed me." Her smile turned sad, her eyes focused on the mabari. Delicate brows bunched as a hand pressed lightly on each side of the gaping wound. "I don't know the meaning of most of the lyrics, but the last line - vir lath sa'vunin - was something she liked to say." Her eyes slipped shut, the golden glow forming a fine net twining between her fingers, knitting the hound's flesh together as she worked from chest to groin.
Alistair watched in awe, fascinated by the gentle skill of her hands. He'd seen the Circle mages practice healing magic, but he'd never seen anything quite like the spell she was crafting. How could anyone say magic was a curse from the Maker after witnessing something like this?
Once the wound was closed, Zoya leaned back from the hound. A tired smile tugged at her lips, and she ran dainty fingers along the newly healed skin before shaking out her hands and pressing them skyward, "Almost done. You ready to deal with these arrows?"
His eyes were drawn to the limber arc of her back as she stretched, the words leaping from his mouth without thought, "Sure, anything you need."
They settled into an odd rhythm set by Zoya's improvised tune. Alistair pulled the barbed projectiles free, the mabari lashed out, and Zoya healed the wound. Andraste's flaming sword! How is the beast resisting her touch? Each time her golden hand brushed his, it sent a pleasant tingle up his arm, a relieved breath escaping his lips as the muscles between his shoulders unknotted. What would it feel like to have her healing energy focused on him? As it was, he was fighting an urge to stretch out in the straw like a cat who'd found a sunbeam. But there was the mabari glaring at them with white-rimmed eyes, the growl that rumbled from deep inside his chest nearly drowning out Zoya's voice. I can't believe the he's more resistant to her magic's influence than I am.
"Maybe he isn't growling at us, he's purring. Either that, or he's the most ungrateful creature I've ever met." Alistair patted the mabari's flank, earning him a lazy snarl. As the light dancing along Zoya's fingers dimmed, he sat back on his heels, dragging both hands through his hair. His mouth pulled into a triumphant grin as he turned to her, "You were right - that wasn't so bad. And we're leaving here with all our bits and pieces intact – I'd call that a success."
Zoya peered up at him through dark lashes, chuckling. "I'll never admit to Duncan that I said this, but I guess we make a pretty good team…"
Alistair climbed to his feet, his grin widening. Arching an eyebrow, he extended a hand to the elf, "So… not just a sweet boy but a pretty one, eh?"
For a moment, Zoya looked confused, but then her cheeks flushed. Her fingers wrapped around his, letting him haul her to her feet. "I was talking to the dog, but sure… if that's what got you through it."
~oOo~
The Warden's camp looked far too quiet. Only Ser Jory sat by the fire, the others nowhere to be seen. Andraste's flaming ass! Where are they? A band tightened around Duncan's chest as his eyes scanned the encampment, the pressure releasing at the sight of Albis trotting toward him.
"Ho there, Duncan! How did your meeting with the king and teyrn go? I'm guessing not well given the sour look on your ugly puss." A wide grin split the Warden's narrow face as they clasped forearms.
Duncan assessed the possibility of curious ears before he spoke in a low tone. "As well as can be expected when you get those two in a small space together. They need to set aside their differences and agree on a reasonable battle plan before the darkspawn come banging down the gates - preferably one that doesn't get us all killed." Duncan shook his head. "The king seems to be more concerned with the heroics of charging into battle with the invincible Grey Wardens at his side than actually defeating darkspawn. And the teyrn still doesn't believe we're facing a Blight. He's convinced the Wardens are just using the threat of darkspawn to trick the king into bringing Orlesians into Ferelden."
Albis nodded, rubbing at his pointed chin, "Yeah, Evan said he was going to slit both their throats if he had to sit through another one of those strategy meetings. He'd grumble about them being less about planning and more about two grown men fighting over who's got the bigger cock. I'm not sure it's a good or bad thing you returned when you did – I had five silver saying he'd actually do it, ten that Evan would whip his out and put them both to shame."
"You might yet win that wager, provided you weren't specific about which Warden does it." Duncan chuckled, his eyes raking over the milling crowd. "Anything to report on our young Warden and newest recruit?"
The man's mouth skewed as he scratched his head, mulling his words, "I did just as you asked, staying out of sight as I followed them-"
"And you're sure Zoya didn't spot you?" Duncan had trained the girl to be vigilant, and from what he'd seen so far she'd learned her lessons well. It was risky having Albis shadow her, but not so huge a gamble as sending the young elf into Ostagar alone. He'd been lucky to run into the Warden shortly after sending the girl to find Alistair - of all his men, Albis was the most capable of following Zoya undetected.
A small blade found its way into the rogue's scarred hands, and he twirled it absently. "So far as I could tell, she didn't. But Alistair seemed to think something was up. He sensed me outside the mage's camp and stopped me to ask what I was about." He raised an eyebrow, "But once they found each other, well… they were both too distracted to take notice of much else-"
"Maker! It went that badly?" Duncan dragged a weary hand over his face. It was hard to imagine Alistair letting Chantry nonsense win out over duty. But the elf had been unruly since discovering she'd be working with a former Templar - when she was in that mood, she could test even the Divine's patience.
"Badly? Ha! That's not the word I'd use for it." Albis chuckled, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.
Duncan crossed his arms, "What word would you use?"
"Just one?" The man's grin widened as Duncan's scowl deepened. "They got on just fine, Duncan - it was all blushing and nervous smiles. I haven't seen the lad's cheeks that red since Odran and I dragged him into the Pearl. You'd think he'd spent his youth in a monastery, surrounded by nothing but priests and other boys. Oh wait..." Albis clasped Duncan's shoulder in response to his incredulous look, "Come now - you can't have forgotten what it's like to be that age, to have the attention of a pretty girl."
"Friendly then?" Duncan loosed a noisy breath, tugging absently at his beard. Given Zoya's anxiety about Alistair's former allegiances, he'd have wagered that first meeting would be a disaster. Even so, he'd hoped they'd find some common ground, eventually forming a comradery. But he'd not considered Zoya and Alistair would have any interest in each other outside of that.
Maybe it was all those years he'd missed, but it was still hard to think of Zoya as anything other than the little girl who would curled up in his lap to drift off to sleep. But she was nearly the same age as he was when he'd first come to Ferelden with the Wardens, when he'd met Adaia. Seeing her smiling up at her apostate that day in the Denerim market had been a reminder that she was a grown woman - she'd not been coy about her feelings for the man. Once he'd had a chance to meet him, the thought had crossed his mind that Zoya deserved someone worthy of her, someone more like Alistair. And as for the young Warden, how could he not be charmed by her? He should be pleased they seemed to be off to a good start. So why was his gut knotting?
"Yeah, I guess friendly's as good a word as any - I'd have said awkward." Albis shrugged his shoulders, "If there's trouble to report, it's what they got up to. But then in my day, I did some reckless things to keep a girl's attention."
It was hard to imagine Alistair acting heedlessly – the lad was almost too cautious at times. Zoya, on the other hand, was more like Duncan had been at that age – reckless, impulsive, intense. What have you been up to, my little magpie? His fists clenched as he steeled himself for the worst, "Alright, out with it!"
"Well…" Albis scratched his head, his mouth twisting, "Zoya took issue with the quartermaster's attitude toward elves. The man nearly had her arrested, but Alistair talked him out of it. Then she knocked your other recruit, Daveth, on his ass when he got handsy. That drew a bit of a crowd, although most of the grumbling was from soldiers who'd lost wagers on the outcome. Oh, and she nearly stopped my heart - squealing like a Shriek - when Alistair took her into that overgrown area the camp followers like to use." He raised a hand to silence Duncan when he started sputtering, "It was innocent enough - something about a spider. But the biggest rub has to do with the Circle. Between Alistair insulting one of the Senior Enchanters and Zoya trying to steal lyrium-"
"By the Void!" A hand rubbed at his forehead, trying to chase away the throbbing starting there. It was moments like this he regretted ever teaching the girl to pick a lock. "Where are they now?"
"They're at the king's kennels." Albis twitched his head toward the enclosure, "One of the Ash Warriors was killed by darkspawn last night, and his mabari dragged the corpse back here, trailing half its guts behind from what I hear. Zoya was still in there healing the hound when I saw you heading back to the tent. I figured she'd be there a while."
Duncan gaped at the rogue for a moment. "Maker's ass!" It was just like the little elf to get sucked into a lost cause when she was supposed to be focused on her upcoming mission. He shook his head roughly, "And Alistair was just letting this happen?"
"He was right there in the thick of it, helping." Albis reached up to grip Duncan's shoulder, "You know, I almost shat myself when I spotted the girl. The armor, the red hair, the way she moves – I thought I was seeing a spirit. I'm guessing she also got Adaia's stubborn streak and temper."
"You've no idea." Duncan muttered. The girl inherited that trait in spades, from both her parents. He'd hoped he could train that out of her, discipline winning out over emotion, or that she'd grow out of it. "But what does that have to do with Alistair not keeping her on task?"
"Do you think Alistair would be able to stop her if she set her mind to helping that hound? Poor lad never had a chance, you know that as well as I." Albis shrugged, the corner of his mouth tugging upward, "Besides, this has got to be a good thing, them working together like that."
"You have a point, but-" The clamor of plate armor echoing across the clearing interrupted him. His heart lurched as he spun to spot a pair of Templars marching toward the kennels. "Andraste's fiery sword! She's using magic!"
Albis narrowed his eyes, "Of course! What of it?"
"The Templars will need to investigate unauthorized magic being used outside the mage's camp. And given Zoya's feelings toward Templars, their general response to apostates, and the Ferelden Chantry's current attitude toward the Grey Wardens..." Duncan motioned for Albis to follow as he strode to intercept the Templars. "We need to stop them before they reach the kennels."
If the Templars attempted to question Zoya, assuming they even bothered once they realized she was an apostate, she'd likely respond like she was fighting for her life, perhaps rightly so. Alistair would be forced to choose between the Templars and the Wardens. While it was a safe bet that he would defend Zoya, acting on any budding loyalty he might have toward his charge, would she let him? It was more likely the lad would get caught in the crossfire.
Duncan stepped into the Templars' path, an arm crossing his chest as he bowed shallowly. "It's important that I speak with you-"
"Warden Commander." One of the armored men returned his bow, "If you don't mind, our attention is needed elsewhere. Perhaps you could talk to the Templars currently on duty at the mage's camp, or we could speak once our business is done."
"This can't wait." Duncan squared his shoulders, "I've only just returned to Ostagar and haven't had a chance to speak to the Revered Mother and Senior Enchanter Uldred about my newest recruit. You were heading to the kennels to investigate someone using magic outside your mage enclave?" He waited for the man to incline his helmed head. "That would be my newest recruit, a mage acting on my orders."
The man turned to his companion who only shook his head, "We weren't aware you had recruited from the Circle."
Duncan crossed his arms, his tone stern. "As she is a Warden recruit on Warden business, where she's come from and what she does aren't your concern."
Dark eyes stared out through the helmet's slit before shifting to Albis and over their shoulders toward the kennels. The man released a breath that echoed within his helm. "As you say, commander. Even so, you'll need to speak with the Revered Mother. She's already expressed concern about your demands regarding this Joining ritual. And we've been ordered to keep a tight leash on the mages and their use of magic. We don't want any unfortunate happenings."
Duncan forced a neutral expression onto his face, "No, we don't want that. That's why she's carrying out her task under the watchful eye of another Warden, a former Templar. Please let the Revered Mother know I'll speak with her as soon as I'm able."
The Templar glared one last time at the golden light coming from the kennels, his fists clenching as he bowed, "I'll tell her, commander."
Duncan stroked his beard as he watched the Templars pivot in unison and stride away. He'd managed to avert disaster for the moment, but at what price? His gaze rested on the kennels - he'd wager it wouldn't be long before the next crisis. Alistair and the recruits had much to do in a short time, and mistakes tended to happen in haste. "When's the next patrol heading into the Wilds?"
Albis peered up at the sky, "Soon I would expect. Why?"
Duncan directed them away from the kennels, back toward the Warden's tent. "I want to add a second one – you can lead it. But instead of scouting, I want you to shadow Alistair and the recruits."
"Alistair will sense us out there." The rogue quirked an eyebrow at him, "You've got to let them be Wardens at some point. The lad is skilled, as are your recruits. They'll be fine, Duncan."
"I'm know they're all capable fighters, and Alistair will do everything he can to see the recruits safely through to the Joining. But the Blight is upon us. And this is Zoya, my… ward-" A dull ache weighted Duncan chest. "Albis, she's carrying the darkspawn corruption within her. It's contained for now, but there's a chance it could overwhelm her. I need to ensure she'll return for the Joining."
Albis' brow furrowed as he shook his head sadly, "Duncan, I'm sorry. I had no idea she was infected. What happened?"
"Misplaced heroics - it's not really important. It's done." Even now, the pain of nearly losing her to that cursed mirror tore at him. And yet here he was, putting her at risk over a tradition. He took a deep breath - Albis was right. He'd recruited her to be a Warden, and he should let her be one. But that didn't mean he couldn't set up safeguards. Duncan gripped the man's shoulders, "I need your help, brother."
"I'm your man!" Albis clasped his arm before turning his feet toward the main Warden camp. But he halted mid-step, an uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. "Before I forget, there's something you should know. A handful of soldiers arrived with a caravan shortly after you did. They've been gossiping like old women about what happened in Denerim - an elf stealing into the palace to slaughter Vaughan Kendells, his noble cronies, and his guard only to be saved from justice by conscription into the Wardens. It's only a matter of time before the whole camp is talking about it and word gets back to Arl Urien. Can't imagine he'll take that well."
A/N: I would like to extend a thank you to my beta, Eve Hawke, for her unwavering patience as I worked through this chapter. And as always, thank you to those of you who continue to read and review!