For weeks, Alistair had been haunted by nightmares beyond the ones that usually plagued Grey Wardens. They had been focused mostly on his lost comrade, Kalvin, fed by soldiers' and Wardens' tales about darkspawn desecration of the human dead. But the bloody display before him was worse than anything his imagination had conjured. Maker, don't let me find Kalvin on a darkspawn altar. To make it through the trials and Joining, only to end up like this...

The small party stood in stunned silence, the stillness finally broken by the sounds of armored boots stumbling along gravel followed by retching. None of them turned to look, giving Jory some privacy.

Zoya was shaking hard enough that Alistair could feel it through the dainty hand clinging to the front of his armor. She whispered hoarsely, "This isn't the work of wolves. Was it darkspawn?"

He tore his stare away from the grisly decorations below, the tightness in his chest easing as he focused instead on the vivid green of the elf's eyes. His hushed voice was thankfully steady, "I've heard stories but have never seen it for myself. When I did the trials, we went into the Deep Roads, near Orzammar, and we didn't get far before we ran into a small patrol. You'd hardly know darkspawn had been there – it was all just dust and rubble."

But the experience had been terrifying in its own right – the eerie screams of a shriek freezing the recruits in place as genlocks charged toward them in the claustrophobic dark of the tunnels. Alistair fought back a shudder, his hands twitching to feel the reassuring weight of his sword and shield. "You didn't see anything like this in the Brecilian Forest?"

Zoya's knuckles whitened, widening eyes dominating her pale face, before she snatched her hand away and stared at the ground, "Nothing like this. Are the darkspawn close?"

Alistair arched an eyebrow, his mouth opening in inquiry. What in the Maker's name happened in that forest? Every time it comes up, she either changes the subject or looks like she wants to run. But he pressed his lips together - now wasn't the time to question her. I guess I'll have to add it to the growing list of things to ask her about when this is all over.

The weight of her gaze shifted back to him as he cast his senses out. Knowing she was watching him was distracting, leaving him feeling like a fumbling, slack-jawed idiot. He ran a rough hand through his hair, holding his breath as he redoubled his focus. Small, scattered pockets of frigid emptiness, marking darkspawn presence, appeared within the limits of his perception. "Yeah, they're close. But I don't think they'll be much of a problem."

"Not much of a problem?" Jory gaped at him. "Are you blind? The creatures killed an entire squad of seasoned soldiers! What chance do we have? This is insane? How many darkspawn can just the four of us kill – a dozen? A hundred? There is an entire army of them in this forest!"

Alistair may have been slick with a cold sweat under his armor, but the last thing he wanted to do was feed the knight's, or the rest of the group's, fears. As it was, both Zoya and Daveth were watching him expectantly, tension clear on their faces. His heart thudded hollowly. What I wouldn't give to have Duncan here. He'd have no problem getting the group focused on their mission and working together. But he isn't, and now the task falls to me.

Alistair took a deep breath, trying to keep his expression and voice neutral, "Calm down, Jory. We'll be fine if we're careful. Sure, there are darkspawn in this forest, but we're in no danger of stumbling into the bulk of the horde."

The knight crossed his arms, seemingly unwilling to just take Alistair's word for it. "How do you know? Why are we even doing this? Blood for some ritual and crumbling scrolls? This is foolish and reckless! I never expected this," he gestured toward the ravine. "We should go back-"

Zoya scowled at the man, looking as if she wanted to slap him. But instead she sucked in a noisy breath before speaking in a tone that Alistair imagined she'd use with a whining child. "You were the one talking about proving worthiness to be a Warden, Ser Jory. This is a far better test than fighting in a tournament, don't you think? And Duncan wouldn't have sent us out here if he wasn't confident we'd make it back. We're far from helpless – we'll be fine."

Despite her earlier argument with Jory, Zoya seemed surprisingly willing to play nice. Alistair nodded to her in thanks before fixing his attention on the knight, trying to channel the commander, "Going back is not an option, not until we've completed our mission." He raised a hand to silence the knight's objections, "Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn, Jory. That's why I'm here. No matter their cunning, they won't take us by surprise, I promise." Nor is it likely we'll be able to take them by surprise – they'll be able to sense me. But it's probably best not to share that bit of information.

"See, Ser Knight." Daveth's face twisted into a wry grin, "We might die, but we'll be warned about it first."

The corners of Zoya's mouth twitched upward even as she rolled her eyes at the rogue. She shifted her gaze to the surrounding ridge and shallow ravine below them. "Can you tell exactly where they are, Alistair? How many? If they're on the move or staying still?"

"No, not exactly – not at this distance at least. The darkspawn… presence gets stronger the closer they are. One of the Senior Wardens could tell you exactly where and how many, even what kind are out there. But maybe that's why tradition calls for a junior Warden to take out the recruits – can't make this too easy for you." He offered what he hoped looked more like a smile than a grimace.

"Yeah, we certainly don't want that," she quirked an eyebrow. Her eyes narrowed as they scanned the terrain, "Can I see the map?"

Alistair unrolled the map, holding it low so Zoya could see it. She chewed her lip, her fingers joining his as they traced along the yellowed parchment, "It's seems to be a bit of a funnel – higher ground on one side and an end, water on the other side, only one good way in or out on each end – a good spot for an ambush. What if those altar-looking things are meant to lure troops? Traps on the ground and archers along the ridge could pick off soldiers pushing their way through." Her eyes searched his, "Would darkspawn think to do that?"

Andraste's flaming sword! She's right! I should have seen the dangers, instead of just the carnage below. Focus, Alistair! Clearing his throat, he stopped the hand wanting to nervously rake through his hair, rubbing it along his jaw instead, "It's been sounding that way from what I've heard – traps and snares, ambushes. They've been better organized lately, more than the usual raids. There are darkspawn that are reasonably cunning, like Alphas and Emissaries, but I don't sense anything like that. The grunts aren't exactly known for their keen minds. I can't imagine them setting up a trap."

"Are you saying we're just dealing with dumb monsters here? I don't know… Any predator knows how best to hunt their prey." A crease formed between her brows as she hastily shoved a loose tendril of hair behind an ear. "So… do we head into the ravine, hoping it's not a trap, or avoid it by taking the ridge?"

The words almost flew from his mouth, Why are you asking me? But she was right – it was his call, whether or not he wanted it. "Getting down the steep rock and moving quietly along that ridge will be tricky for those of us in heavier armor." Alistair twitched his head toward the knight.

Appraising eyes slid over her companions - Daveth casually poking through promising bits of armor to look for anything of value and Jory tense and glaring at them in turn - before they settled on Alistair. A dainty finger tapped against her lips, "I suppose we could split up. The map doesn't show it, but there's probably an easier way on and off that ridge - I could scout along it."

"I cannot believe we are listening to tactics from this elf. What could she possibly know? And how many darkspawn could she possibly deal with on her own?" Jory's lip curled as he regarded her with crossed arms.

Zoya stayed silent, her jaw subtly clenching as she focused her attention on brushing dirt a bracer. A twinge of sympathy, memories of being dismissed like that, set his own jaw to twitching. He recognized that reaction, the practiced indifference telling him she was well used to it, which only made it harder to ignore.

"Didn't you just accuse Zoya of going on a killing spree in the Denerim palace – something that would have taken both planning and skill?" Alistair pinned Jory with a stern look. "Besides, she was mentored by Duncan, and I'm sure tactics and stealth were among his lessons. She probably knows those things better than any of us."

The elf's cheeks reddened, "Well… Duncan taught me quite a bit, but-"

"I'm willing to trust your assessment," He gripped a slender shoulder as he offered a reassuring smile. Her eyes searched his, her expression incredulous, before the red in her cheeks deepened and she ducked her head. He gently squeezed her shoulder, drawing her gaze back to him, "But Jory is right about one thing - I can't send you up there alone. I really do think we should stay together."

His gut lurched at the thought of the little elf picking her way along the ridge, dealing with any darkspawn on her own. But it didn't seem to make her nervous - he could feel her tensing under his hand, as if readying her arguments. His thoughts cast about, trying to find something that would encourage her to stay with the group. "Do you know how to spot and disarm traps?" He waited for her nod, "Good! We need to avoid having multiple patrols converge on us here, and I think we can do that if move through quietly, avoid drawing attention to ourselves by setting off any traps. Once we get past this area, we can hunt darkspawn under conditions that better suit us." His eyes settled on each of the recruits in turn, "Alright, let's get on with it."

Zoya's brow furrowed, looking like she was going to object, but she stayed silent, crossing an arm over her chest and bowing before moving down the path. Alistair tried to stay focused on their surroundings as he followed the elf into the ravine, but within moments he found himself mesmerized. Moving on silent feet, she flitted over the width of the trail, her graceful movements relaxed but alert as she scanned for traps and snares. Each contraption she bent to was like a treasure chest, leaving her smiling like she'd found a pretty gem once it was disarmed.

The end of the ravine was in sight when Zoya went still, a delicate hand hovering over the crude, rusty metal of the leghold trap on the ground before her. She cocked her head, her ears visibly twitching, "There's someone or something alive ahead. I think it's behind one of the statues."

She rose to her feet, but didn't get far before Alistair stopped her by grabbing hold of a leather strap crossing her back, "Not so fast." The corruption coming from that direction had nearly been overpowered by the pungent stench of decay, but he could feel it now that he was looking for it. "Maybe someone who's better armored should go first? What if it's luring us into an ambush?"

"Will your armor protect you if you step into one of these traps?" Her hand reached for her bow, "Are you sensing darkspawn?"

Alistair felt the surge of bile as he stared down at the wicked iron jaws of the trap, imaging what it would feel like if it closed on his leg. He swallowed, shaking his head, "Not from that area, but I'm sensing something… off." What he felt was similar to the blighted wolves, but the corruption must be more advanced if he could sense it from this distance. Even so, it was different from the darkspawn signatures moving toward them. He should probably tell the recruits, but he didn't want them to panic. If their little group kept moving, they'd make it out of the ravine before the creatures closed on them. "Maybe it's best if we don't stop to check it out."

"I agree with the Warden. There is nothing to be gained from lingering here." Jory crossed his arms, "And it does not require special skill to detect and avoid traps. Anyone could do it, provided they are observant. I tire of this elf treating us like we are idiots."

Every time the knight flapped his mouth, the smug tone grated in Alistair's ears. How was Zoya not losing her temper with the man? But she kept quiet, bowing as she gestured for the knight to go first. Between Jory's attitude and the growing urgency to get out of this area before the darkspawn closed on them, Alistair was struggling to maintain his composure, "We need to get out of this ravine now. Jory, I don't think-"

The knight dismissed Alistair with a haughty wave of his hand, but before he'd gone a handful of steps, a rock flew over his shoulder. It hit the ground immediately ahead of the man, and the distinctive sound of metallic jaws slamming closed immediately followed.

"Still want to go first?" Zoya's formerly compliant expression shifted into a smirk.

The knight spun on the elf, his gauntlets groaning as he clenched his hands and stalked toward her. But she seemed unconcerned, resting a fist on a cocked hip.

Alistair quickly stepped between them, "By the Void, Zoya!" That little imp! I took her silence for compliance, even felt bad for her, but she was just biding her time.

Daveth chuckled, shooting a mischievous grin in Zoya's direction, "I warned you, Ser Knight – you've got to be careful of that one!"

Jory's glare hit Daveth before he turned it on Zoya, "I demand the elf be punished, Warden."

"What's Alistair supposed to do, put her over his knee and spank her?" Daveth wagged his eyebrows, "Heh, I'd pay 20 silvers to see that-"

"Shut up, Daveth," Alistair felt heat bloom in his cheeks, and he avoided looking at the elf. "And what exactly am I disciplining her for, Jory? Stopping you from stepping into a trap?" As far as he was concerned, the knight probably had it coming if he did. But he tried to make his expression stern as he turned to face Zoya, "Next time, try a verbal warning instead. And let's save the fighting for the darkspawn, shall we?"

"As you wish, Warden," Zoya inclined her head, putting on an innocent face that Alistair committed to memory, not wanting to let himself be fooled by it again. "Would you like for me to scout ahead again?"

Duncan did say to keep a tight rein on the girl. Apparently I'm not keeping it tight enough. "As you seem to be able to spot traps from a distance, I'd prefer you stay at my side." And out of trouble—

"I'll just bring up the rear, watch your backs as Zoya does her work. If she was thinking we're too dumb to avoid traps, Ser Knight just proved it!" Daveth's grin widened as Jory's fists clenched tighter.

"Try not to get too distracted back there-" Zoya's head swung toward the surrounding ridge as an arrow sank into the trunk of a nearby tree. Her eyes narrowed, scanning for their attacker as she pulled the bow from her back and shoved at Alistair with her shoulder, herding him toward cover behind one of the gore-draped statues. She sucked in a sharp breath as another arrow buried itself in the ground a handful of paces from their feet, "Andraste's flaming bits - I thought you could sense the darkspawn!"

Alistair bit back a chuckle. For a heartbeat, the absurdity of this tiny elf thinking she could not only move him but shield him from an attack won out over fear of impending attack. But his training hadn't completely failed him. His shield and sword had already leapt into his hands, the weight of the familiar items like a balm.

"I can! But I was distracted by trying to stop Jory from throttling you!" Maker! How did I miss the darkspawn getting within arrow range? Get it together, Alistair! Alistair shot a frown at Zoya's back before turning to look for the other recruits. Both men had taken cover, their weapons in their hands and their eyes wary.

Zoya continued searching for the darkspawn along the ridge as she muttered, "The perfect set-up for a trap, and we were stupid enough to prance right into it." She released her arrow with a frustrated breath, cursing when it was deflected by the scrubby brush along the ridge, "Shit! I can't get at them from down here. I think there are at least two on the ridge, but there could be twenty for all we know. Are they close enough now that you can tell?

He bowed his head and clenched his eyes, his head throbbing from the effort, "I sense three on the ridge and at least ten more heading this way, approaching from both ends."

Zoya loosed a low whistle, shaking her head, "Unless you want to go for a swim, we're going to need a new plan." She regarded him with an arched eyebrow, "No? Hmm… There isn't much cover down here or on the way up the ridge - they'll fill us with arrows if we try to escape those ways. But I can get up there unseen, take control of the high ground and defend you from above."

Alistair gaped at her, "I already told you - I can't let you go up there alone!"

An elegant gesture of her hand sent a shimmering wave through the air in front of her, the magic subtle as it shivered over him. She took a moment to secure her bow on her back and draw her daggers, a fierce grin pulling at the corners of her lips. As she stepped forward, disappearing from view like she was walking through a curtain, she tossed him a wink over her shoulder, "You speak as if you've a choice…"

~oOo~

Zoya drew her daggers just before slipping into the Between, clinging to their solid weight as the Wilds undulated around her. The shifting terrain and odd weightlessness left her stomach writhing in protest, but she set off toward the ridge, hoping the stew still sitting in her gut was too heavy to make its way back up. At the thought of her last meal, she snuck a glance at Alistair, nearly tripping over her feet as she saw him through the Veil's lens.

All living things – plants, animals, people – had a kind of transparent radiance when seen from this place between the spirit and mortal worlds, like different materials aglow in candlelight. From what she'd experienced so far, the differences were greatest among people. The first time she'd seen her mother while in the Between, the beauty of the golden light twining and twisting around the woman's slender form sent Zoya to her knees as if in worship of an ancient goddess. Even now, the memory of it sent shivers over her. Maybe her mother's brilliance was because she was a mage – Duncan didn't look that way, more like gleaming metal. But the man was red steel in comparison to Alistair's lustrous silverite, his glow like silvery starlight.

A soft chuckle escaped her lips at the sight of the astonished expression on the Warden's handsome face as he stared through her, sensing magic but not actually seeing her. She'd considered asking Alistair to come with her into the Between. But as he was once a Templar, and noticeably uncomfortable with her magic, she'd doubted he'd want to. And even if he had been willing, would his Templar powers negate her magic in this place? No, it probably wouldn't have been a good idea to bring him. Given all the death and the resulting weakness of the Veil in this area, it was better not to risk Alistair's safety. He was one of the precious few Wardens after all.

Tearing her gaze away, she sprinted up the ridge, trusting her feet to find their way among the billowing rocks. Her eyes settled on her targets, three genlocks raining arrows down on the party and pinning them behind grisly altars. These creatures were different from other living things she'd seen through the Veil – almost like detailed shadows, lacking any incandescence. But that hardly surprised her given what she'd felt of the Taint. As she fought back the memory of the dark tendrils wrapping around her, an icy weight settled in her chest. Andraste's flamy bits! What will happen to the imprisoned corruption within me while I'm in the Between? Would the infection be apparent through the Veil? And what about Alistair's untarnished light? As a Warden, he carried the Taint just like Duncan…

She shook her head to clear it, sure that any distractions from her objective – eliminating the darkspawn threat – would only lead her to fail. Once she'd walled off her turbulent thoughts, calmness settled over her, odd since her focus was now on bringing death.

Slipping back into the mundane world within a breath of the nearest genlock's back, she silently drove her daggers into the base of its skull. The ancestral Fangs hummed happily in her hands as they tasted darkspawn blood. But she'd wrenched them free and was on the move before the creature silently dropped to the ground. One down, two to go…

As she covered the craggy space between the archers, she slipped back into the Between. Her focus should have been the next target, but the scene below drew her eyes – Daveth loosing arrows at the approaching darkspawn from behind cover, Alistair and Jory taking positions out of the genlock archers' range as they faced the motley assortment of darkspawn bearing down on them. Her mind whirred with calculations - how long it would take the creatures to reach her companions, how fast she could eliminate the threat on the ridge, how much farther than her enemies' arrows the elven ones would fly - even as she sought out her targets' vulnerabilities.

A triumphant grin pulled at her lips when the nearest archer threw back its head in a howl, exposing its leathery neck. She hardly paused as she slipped back into the mundane world and darted past, her blades flashing in the bright afternoon sun as they sliced cleanly across the creature's throat. Its hideous features distorted in surprise when its roar was squelched.

The remaining genlock pivoted toward its companion's cry, bow tensing and glare blazing. Instincts warred within her – continue her charge or flee into the Between? When the creature blinked its red eyes and loosed a growling breath, its fingers releasing the bow's string, her body reacted of its own will. Zoya felt the Veil part as she flung her arm upward and rolled to the side, the arrow whistling toward her head vanishing into the Between. As she found herself crouched in the loose gravel, she was sure her look of surprise echoed the darkspawn's. That's a new one – never thought to use the Veil as a shield before. But now's not the time to ponder on it…

Dropping her blades in favor of her bow, she launched her own arrow. The darkspawn dropped to its knees, its bellow cut off as the shaft bloomed from its throat. Sheathing the Fangs, she strode forward to retrieve her arrow, cursing when she saw the creature's fall had snapped the shaft. Drawing a crude arrow from the boiled leather quiver next to the archer, and trying not to think about what creature had provided the material, she spun the shaft between her fingers. No reason to be fussy and let these arrows go to waste, not when there are almost three quivers' worth. Besides, there was something satisfying about taking down the creatures with their own weapons.

Zoya scanned the ridge, but there was no movement or sound, all the action focused below. Keeping her eyes trained on the ravine, she collected each quiver as she ran back to the first archer's perch, a spot that had both clear views of the area and defensive cover. As she hunkered down, her attention turned to Alistair, her heart thudding as she watched him fight. She'd assumed the easygoing Warden was a skilled warrior – Duncan wouldn't have recruited him otherwise – but as confidence and power drove his sword and shield in gleaming arcs, she found herself entranced.

Alistair's battle cry echoed in her ears, jolting her back to action. But it also caught the attention of several darkspawn that moved to surround him as they shifted out of the deadly reach of Jory's greatsword. All of the earlier strategizing and calculations previously spinning through her head narrowed down to just one clear objective – protect the Warden.

Taking a deep breath, Zoya turned her focus to picking out the most advantageous and accessible targets. Her bow felt weightless, the muscles in her arm and back bunching and pulling in a soothingly familiar way as she took aim. But the pilfered arrow was shorter and heavier than she was used to, the wicked, barbed head throwing off the projectile's balance. Andraste's great flaming ass! She glared accusingly at the quiver at her feet as the arrow lodged in the hurlock's thigh. Adjusting her aim, she shot again, suppressing a triumphant cry as the arrow tore through the creature's leather chestplate before it had gotten within a couple dozen paces of Alistair. But the fighting had separated the Warden from his companions, sending him between her and the remaining hurlocks.

"Alistair, to your left!" Zoya shouted. But at the sound of her voice, he pivoted to the right to search her out. She groaned, knowing it was too late to stop the arrow leaving her fingers, "Damn it! Other left…" she muttered.

The arrow zipped past him, burying itself in a hurlock's shoulder. The Warden spun to catch the downward stroke of its sword on his shield, the crash of these solid objects drowning out the sound of his sword slicing through the creature's neck.

Alistair turned back toward her with a frown tugging at his mouth, which disappeared as his jaw dropped and eyes widened at the arrow she loosed in his direction. The dead weight of the charging hurlock knocked him back as it stumbled into him, an arrow lodged in its head. He extended his arms outward, sword and shield glinting in the sun as he scowled up at her, "Andraste's flaming sword, woman! Do you have to shoot so close to me?"

"Well, how's that for gratitude?" Zoya stepped fully out into the open, planting a fist on her hip as she shot him a wry grin, "I thought our orders were to kill darkspawn, not dance with them. Any more on the way? I've got plenty of arrows left."

"Will you just get back down here so we can be on our way." Alistair wiped his blade clean before sheathing it, "And this time, stay where I can see you."

She felt strangely self-conscious as she picked her way over jumbled rock. Alistair's stern expression followed her the whole way down, leaving her wondering if he was going to drag her out of the ravine by her ear. He was right to be annoyed – she'd ignored his order after all. Padding up to him on silent feet, her head drooped like a hound who expected to be beat. "I… I apologize, Warden."

"Look, I know what you did got results, but you can't just go running off on your own to do whatever you want. What if something happened to you up there? What if I'd sensed more darkspawn moving in and we had to retreat?" That his tone wasn't chastising actually made her feel worse - his voice was as sincere as the hand gripping her shoulder. When she met his gaze, the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "That being said, it was quite the trick you pulled, disappearing like that. When this is all over, you'll have to tell me how you did it."

"I could do that, or I could just show you," she offered a lopsided grin, a sudden irrational desire to spar with him taking her by surprise and leaving her a bit giddy.

His smile echoed hers for a heartbeat before he grimaced, running a hasty hand through his hair, "Umm… We should get back to the task at hand. There's darkspawn blood to be collected. Each of you need to fill a vial – I'll stand watch while you do it."

Zoya had just knelt over one of the creatures when a wheezy gasp rattled to her left, reminding her of the mysterious sounds she'd heard before the darkspawn attacked. She leapt to her feet, dashing toward a large altar desecrating an aged statue of Andraste, its base draped in grisly offerings.

Alistair's armored footsteps sounded behind her, "By the Void, Zoya! Didn't we just talk about you running off on your own? Maker, why do I even bother opening my mouth..."

~oOo~

Alistair grabbed for the elf, his fingers scraping against the age-worn leather as she deftly dodged him. Maker's breath, I'll have to be faster if I want to keep up with her. He sighed in frustration, "Zoya, please don't. There's nothing more we can do here – we need to keep going, get the blood and find the Warden archive."

Zoya arched an eyebrow, "Aren't you at all curious? You said you felt something 'off' – don't you want to know what it is? I'm sure Duncan wouldn't fault us for investigating."

His mouth opened to order her back to him, but he quickly shut it, knowing it would fall on deaf ears. She was like a hound who'd caught a scent, ducking around to the back side of the statue and digging through armor and other remains to uncover her grisly prize, a fallen soldier. Once freed, the man let out a choked cry followed by terrified gibbering that barely sounded human.

"Hush, serrah. We're from the camp. You're safe now." Her voice was gentle as she cleared away the gory debris.

A chill tore through Alistair, and he fought back a shudder. This is exactly what I was afraid I'd find - this soldier is turning. Maker! I have to get the recruits away from here. "Well, he's not as dead as he looks." Alistair tried to sound casual as he crouched next to the man. "You three can finish getting your darkspawn blood and scout on ahead. I'll patch him up and get him on his way back to camp. It shouldn't take long – I'll catch up with you."

"Don't be an idiot! I can heal him – let me take a look." Zoya shoved at Alistair as she dropped to her knees next to the wounded soldier. The armored man was covered in blood, both black and rust, and her hands searched for obvious wounds.

Alistair sucked a breath between clenched teeth. She's not going to find injuries to explain the man's current condition. "By the Void, Zoya, I can handle this. Just… just go with the others. We don't have much time." I don't know if I can do this. I never thought I'd have to – there was always a Senior Warden to deal with the infected. And I know I can't do this with her watching. His stomach churned, his hands clenching.

"It'll just take a few minutes – probably less time than it would take you to bandage him." A golden light flared around the delicate hands hovering over the soldier.

"Andraste's flaming sword! She's an apostate!" Jory gasped, his eyes wide and his hand reaching for his sword as he backed away.

"Oh no! Beware the evil elven mage - she might tickle you to death with healing magic!" Zoya rolled her eyes dramatically at the knight before letting them slip shut. Within moments, an odd grimace twisted her pretty face as she encountered the darkspawn corruption. Releasing a ragged breath, she hung her head, resting a glowing hand on the man's chest.

"I can't believe you kept her… condition from us!" Ser Jory's voice jangled the tense silence as his glare shifted between Alistair and Zoya, "It all makes sense now, how she slaughtered those men in the palace, how she seems to have both you and the commander fooled. We need to return to the camp. This man needs help, and I never agreed to partner with a… maleficar."

Maker! I've reached my limit with this man! He tried to sound calm, but his voice sounded strained in his ears, "That's enough, Jory. We're not going back to camp until we've finished our mission. And Zoya isn't a maleficar - I'd know if she was using dark magics."

"I'm all for you being a mage, girlie. I figure if you haven't turned us into toads or burned us to ashes by now, you're not likely to. And magic can be handy to have around," Daveth grinned, offering Zoya a saucy wink.

"Umm… thanks?" Zoya quirked an eyebrow at the rogue before turning her attention back to the soldier.

The soldier sipped at the waterskin she held to his cracked lips, his face twisting in disgust. His voice was gruff, the words slurring when he spoke, "Thank the Maker… I thought no one would find me before… that I was going to die out here alone..."

Zoya offered the man a reassuring smile as her magic's light dimmed, but her tone was oddly empty when she spoke, "Alistair, you're right – this is going to take more than a few moments. If Ser Jory and Daveth finish collecting blood and scout ahead, we can find them once we're done."

Alistair raised an eyebrow when she rose to her feet, her knuckles white as she clenched her empty vial. "Daveth, can you get my blood for me?"

"Sure, girlie. But you'll owe me." The man strode forward and took the vial from her visibly shaking fingers.

"Yeah, anything you want," Zoya responded in a hoarse voice, turning her back on him as pale fingers tightened on her waterskin. Crimson brows knitted as her eyes shifted between the soldier and Alistair. The stubborn set of her jaw told him she wasn't going anywhere, even if he ordered her to.

Shaking his head, Alistair turned to the other recruits, trying not to sound as bleak as he felt. "I'm sensing darkspawn to the east. You should be fine if you continue heading west along this path to the next ridge. Just watch your step and stay alert. We'll catch up to you."

Daveth shot a curious look at Alistair and then Zoya, shaking his head as he turned to grab one of the few gore-free darkspawn spears jutting up from the ground next to the altar. He punched Jory lightly on his pauldron, "Stick with me, Ser Knight. I'll keep you safe." He threw a wink over his shoulder as he led the man away.

"I think I'm actually beginning to dislike Daveth less – I never thought that would be possible." The corner of her mouth twitched as she turned toward the water beyond the fouled statues, gesturing for Alistair to join her.

He crossed his arms as he frowned at her, "Is that why you agreed to give him anything he wanted in exchange for some darkspawn blood? You really should have gone with them. I had this under control."

"What? Did I? Oh…" Zoya bit the inside of her cheek and ducked her head, "It's fine – I'd wager he won't demand anything too terrible." She bit down on her lip as he gave her an incredulous look, "Yeah, you're probably right - I'll take care of it. And I… I just didn't feel right leaving you to deal with this alone."

They walked side by side, a tense quiet descending. When they reached the water, she crouched at the bank, speaking in low tones. "That man is infected, and I think he has been for a while – the corruption is… well, it seems to be shutting his organs down."

"I know..." Alistair avoided her eyes as he peered back toward the soldier.

He could hear her fidgeting with the waterskin, her voice oddly hushed when she finally spoke, "It won't take long for me to heal his wounds and for us to get him back to camp. But-"

"We can't… I can't…" Alistair's throat constricted. What I wouldn't give to be anywhere other than pinned by those glittering emerald eyes. It's like they see right through me.

A slender hand gripped his wrist, insistent that he look at her, "Can't what? Let me heal him? Take him back?" The color drained from her face as she made the connection, "What happens to the soldiers brought back from the Wilds, Alistair – the ones who've been infected?"

"Zoya… I… I'm not supposed to talk about this with the recruits," Alistair tried to swallow past the lump forming in his throat, "Some things I can't talk about until after the Joining." But his resolve collapsed under the weight of her scrutiny, the words tumbling forth before he could stop them. "One of the Senior Wardens checks the injured for corruption. If he finds any sign of it, he... eliminates the threat as quickly and painlessly as possible."

"And Duncan knows about this?" Emotions stormed across her delicate features when he nodded – confusion, sadness, fear, anger. Tears glistened as they fell from her eyes, a pale hand pressing against her chest.

Handled with your usual brilliance, Alistair. You hardly know her and already you're making her cry. He hadn't anticipated she'd react this way over a human soldier she'd never met. His hands clenched as he fought the need to gather her in his arms and comfort her, wishing someone would offer to do the same for him. "Zoya, I have to… They say it's for the best – to not let them suffer. I don't want to, but-"

"So don't!" She dragged a hasty hand across her face, wiping away the tears. "Maybe the medicine the kennel master is going to make for the mabari will help him? Or he can go through the Joining? Or I can do something with my magic."

He avoided her gaze when he replied in a quiet voice. "He's not a mabari with inbred resistance. There's nothing to be done. You must have felt it – he's nearly gone. I don't expect you to understand this yet, but I need to… I have to… It's the kindest thing I can do for him."

Zoya clenched her eyes, her fingers tightening hard enough on the water skin that the seams bulged. She took a deep breath, "I know all about the Taint and the Joining and darkspawn corruption. And I know there's not an actual cure. But there are ways to get around it – we both saw it with the mabari, I know magic can be used-"

"Zoya, there's no way around the Taint – its damage can be delayed in some cases, but it always claims you eventually." Alistair sucked in a noisy breath. The words had escaped before he could stop them, and she reacted as if he'd slapped her. "Andraste's flaming sword! I'm sorry, Zoya. I've said more than I should have… Look, can't you just trust me when I tell you he can't go back to the camp, that if we leave him here, he'll suffer. And if he's really unlucky, he'll turn." Alistair's jaw clenched, a hasty hand dragging through his hair as he looked away. "Please, just go join the others! I don't want to argue with you about this."

"Alistair, I…" She freed a ragged breath, her voice raw, "If you tell me that there is nothing we can do for this man, that anything we do would only prolong his pain, I…" Zoya wrapped her fingers around both his wrists, tugging at them to get him to look at her. Her eyes searched his, a battle clearly waging within her. "Maker help me… I don't know why, but I think I really do trust you. And I don't blame you for trying to do what you think is the right thing. But I saw your face when you looked at him, the way your hands are shaking. I don't think you're entirely convinced-"

"I don't need to be – it's what must be done, it's my duty," he fought the urge to look away, instinct telling him she needed to see his resolve.

Zoya's eyes closed for a moment before she swallowed hard, "I don't think you should be the one to do this."

"I'm the only Warden here, so it falls on me…" The idea that they were actually talking about ending this man's life left a cold pit in his stomach. But her gaze was steady, luring out the words he was trying to hold back. "I recognize him. He's one of the soldiers I've been playing cards with at camp – I don't even remember his name, and I don't think we've said more than a handful of words to each other in all this time." He sucked in a breath, releasing it noisily, "Zoya, I… I've never… killed a person."

"But I have," her eyes glittered with tears as she took a trembling breath, her fingers tightening around his. "Let me do it."

"What?" The shock of her simply spoken words was like being dunked in an icy lake, and he found himself sputtering, "No, I can't! It's my duty-"

"Alistair, please..." Her eyes may have been brimming with tears, but her hands were still and warm, a distinct contrast to the tremors of his own.

"But why? he blurted, his voice cracking. "Why would you be willing to do this?"

A sad smile tugged at her lips as she squeezed his hands. "Because I can't bear to see your light dimmed."

A lump rose in his throat as she slid her hands free and turned away from him. "Light?" he croaked, his fingers closing around the emptiness of his palms.

Zoya paused, her head and shoulders drooping for a moment. But she didn't respond except to shake her head, squaring her shoulders as returned to the soldier's side on silent feet. Kneeling next to his head, she rested a hand over his heart as she tenderly brushed matted hair back from his face with the other. Leaning in close, she spoke in a hushed voice, "I'm so sorry – there's nothing I can do to heal this, but I can take the pain away…"

The soldier shuddered when the golden glow of her magic blanketed him, his labored breathing slowing. His face was oddly serene when he peered at her with filmy eyes tinged with red, "I know. Please… don't leave me like this. The things I see, the whispers, the song… they're getting louder. If I could do it myself… I… my arms won't move… Can you… could you… please end it."

Her eyes pressed shut as a shudder sent the magic's light fluttering. But within a few heartbeats, she met the man's gaze with a peaceful expression, "Don't worry – I'll take care of you." She took a deep breath before setting free the haunting tune she'd sung at the kennels.

Alistair knelt at the soldier's side, resting a hand on his shoulder, letting the odd warmth of the golden magic and her lilting voice soothe over him.

The man's eyes had drifted shut while Zoya sang, but as the last note lingered in the air, he peeled them open and looked toward Alistair. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly before the raspy words came, "Tell Hawke… have him give my mother my pouch when he gets back to Lothering. I think it's still on my belt."

"I will – I promise." He tried not to let his gaze drop to the glittering blade in Zoya's hand. Sweet Andraste… what are we doing? His eyes closed, the Canticle of Trials flowing from his lips as soft as an exhale.

In the end, there was only silence.

A/N – Thank you to the wonderous and talented Eve Hawke for beta'ing this chapter, and love to my fabulous readers *hugs*