Chapter 27

Neither of them had spoken or moved in the long moments since the whisper of the soldier's last breath. The weight of that silence was pressing down on Alistair, and he bit the inside of his cheek to keep hasty words from slipping out in a sorry attempt to break through it.

It was her soft voice that finally cut through the stillness, "We should burn him and the others." Trembling fingers reached out to close the man's unseeing eyes, but before she made contact, she snatched her hand back with a pained grimace, clutching it to her chest.

Can she feel the lingering corruption, the darkness that will continue to eat at the corpse until it's nothing but bones? Alistair wanted to agree to her quiet demand, to follow the lessons learned from the Chantry and the Grey Wardens – the remains should be cremated. "I know, but we can't. The smoke and flames will only draw the darkspawn here."

The already pale face turned ashen, and glittering eyes flashed in his direction as her jaw tightened, "I won't leave him here like this, to be torn apart by… Maker knows what." The Veil parted as she pulled power through to feed her magic. But instead of a golden glow, fire ignited in the palm of her hand, licking hungrily at her fingers. "Darkspawn be damned! If they come, they'll just be fuel for the flames."

Capturing her slender shoulders, he gasped when the magic flowing through her blazed up his arms. This was nothing like the gentle sensation of her healing spell but something far more primal. Before he could stop it, his body responded to the threat, wicking away her mana and sending it back to where it came from.

Tears welled in narrowing eyes, her face twisting in fury, "Release me… Warden and step away." The sound of her teeth grinding as her jaw clenched grated in his ears.

Her pained expression seized him as surely as if she'd wrapped her fiery fingers around his heart, and he wrenched his hands free, holding them up in a placating gesture, "Zoya, I'm sorry. But please be reasonable. Not only do we need to complete the mission, but we also need to be able to come back through this ravine on our return to Ostagar. I can't let you endanger the group for men who are already dead."

Widening eyes stared down at her delicate, fire-laced fingers as if they belonged to a stranger, and she loosed a breath that was louder than her controlled tone when she spoke, "I told you to step back."

For a heartbeat, Alistair was sure she'd decided to set the whole ravine ablaze, but she buried her hands in the gore-darkened earth, the waning flames extinguishing. A surge of power was joined by an odd thrumming sound and vibrations beneath his feet. He scrambled back as the ground between them churned, the soldier and nearest darkspawn altar with its grotesque offerings slipping from sight beneath a wave of brown dirt.

Zoya rose to her feet without a word or a glance, hastily brushing her hands against her thighs. Pivoting sharply on her heel, she stalked from the ravine.

His gaze followed the tiny elf, an empty pit growing in his gut. Brilliantly handled, Alistair… Maker, don't let me screw things up worse than I already have. Not that she could despise me more than she already does… His feet were heavy as he hurried after her.

~oOo~

"We should compete for points – the one with the least when we get to Ostagar's gates has to buy a round after the Joining." Daveth's cheerful voice cut through Zoya's thoughts, and she shot a wary glance toward the rogue ambling along at her side.

"Points?" When her voice cracked, she realized it was the first thing she'd said since leaving the ravine. The muscles between her shoulders spasmed, sending flashes of pain up her neck that carried memories of that cursed place with them.

Fang hummed in anticipation as it hovered near the soldier's hardening skin. She'd thought she could do this, but her hand, slick with sweat, shook so hard she could barely hold the dagger. This man hadn't hurt her or anyone she loved – he was just a soldier, probably with loved ones of his own who would grieve him when he didn't return home. A small whimper sounded in her ears, but when she gazed down at the man, she realized it must have come from her.

She sent out her silent prayer, "Maker, give me the strength…" But before she could finish, the blade, seeming to know its purpose, found its target. There was one final convulsive movement before stillness settled. A last breath slipped from slack lips as unseeing eyes dimmed.

The icy fingers of fear, regret, anger, and guilt clenched around her heart. Power rose within her like an inferno in answer, chasing away the chill. But even as it threatened to sweep her away, strong hands anchored her. As Alistair's grip leached away her magic, a war raged within – give herself over to the desire to destroy or beg him not to stop until she'd been drained.

Dragging a hand over her hair, Zoya smoothed back the loose tendrils stuck to her cheeks and forehead by the cold sweat dampening them. She released the breath she'd been holding, the ragged sound grating in her ears, "You mean for darkspawn kills?" Focus only on killing every darkspawn I find, make them pay for every death, and then drink until I pass out – it's as good a plan as any. "Yeah, I suppose-"

"You look like you're going to puke, girlie." He passed her a flask, grinning down at her when she took a long swig. "Better, eh? Got some color back in your cheeks now. You know, I thought you'd be all for this, show some excitement, but I guess this'll have to do. Do you want to start the count from now or when we walked through the gate? If we start from the beginning, I've already got you beat. Unless we count the corrupted beasties-"

"What?" Zoya croaked, almost dropping the flask. Maker! Does he know what I did?

"You remember - the wolves." Daveth shook his head, gesturing for her to take another drink. "Did you get thumped on the head back there or something?"

Zoya shook her head, taking a deep gulp and shuddering as the whiskey burned its way toward her gut. Handing back the flask, she snuck a glance at Alistair. Their eyes met for one heart-clenching moment before she hastily turned back to Daveth, unwilling to hold that grim stare, "Umm… let's just stick to darkspawn."

"Your loss, girlie. I was willing to spot you those points – it would have put you ahead." Daveth shot her a wink.

"I guess it's good to know you're not afraid of being outdone by a little elven girl." Those last words were spoken in imitation of Jory's smug tone as Zoya raised her chin, her jaw tightening. She sent a pointed look in the knight's direction, "Others might not be so accepting of the idea."

"Nah, I like the idea of it. Wait, no… it's being undone by an elf I was thinking of," Daveth chuckled as he wagged his eyebrows. "And if the others don't like it, they can stay out of our wager. How about it lads – you in?"

"This is not a game! It is disturbing you would treat it like one." Jory scowled at Daveth and Zoya in turn.

Zoya ignored him, instead brooding over Alistair's continued silence. A frown creased her brow as she forced her gaze into the surrounding trees. The leaves danced on the wind, and for a moment she lost herself in the simple movement. If only I could treat this nightmare like a game, each soldier and darkspawn nothing more a game piece on the board.

Alistair's tense baritone sounded near Zoya's ear as an insistent hand brushed her arm, "Umm… Zoya? Can we talk for a moment?"

She startled, nearly tripping over her feet before she glanced up at him, still avoiding his eyes. Andraste's ass! I must have been really lost in thought to miss him approaching. Focus, girl! "Is this about what happened in the ravine?" Her throat tightened, Please say no! Say you want to talk about anything else – the weather, plants of the Wilds, what a jerk Ser Jory is… She swallowed hard when he nodded,"I don't want to talk about it."

Alistair took a deep breath, "I really think we should." A terse twitch of his head directed Daveth and Jory toward a nearby pillar, one of the few seemingly untouched by darkspawn in this horrid place. "Give us a few moments, will you?"

As the humans moved off with curious looks, Alistair reached for Zoya's arm, hesitating for a moment before wrapping strong fingers around it. She tensed but didn't fight him, bowing her head as she let him guide her in the opposite direction. His gaze weighed heavily, like the statue of Andraste looming over the Chantry courtyard that always made her squirm as it passed silent judgment. While not a saintly statue, she found herself fidgeting under his scrutiny and trembling hands nonetheless.

His voice was hoarse when he finally spoke, "Zoya, I…"

She sighed, casting eyes burning with impending tears to her knotting fingers. I don't want to hear him say the words, even if it's just confirming what I already know to be true. "I'm sure it's hard to… and I understand why you wouldn't want to… I mean, you were good enough to defend me earlier, and then I… well, you shouldn't have. Jory's right - I'm a monster…"

His fingers convulsed on her arms, and she held her breath through the tense silence. Instincts warred within her – tear free of him and flee, meet his disapproval head on, beg him for forgiveness. Soon she could take no more, and she snuck a glance upward.

Alistair was staring down at her with a stunned expression that might have been comical under different circumstances, his mouth opening and closing before he found his words. "I never considered that you were wrestling with your own demons this whole time. Is that why you've been so quiet? Because you're worried about what I thought of you after-"

"I'm not worried!" she blurted as a heat rose in her cheeks. The last thing I need is him thinking I care what he thinks. "Not that I blame you, but it's obvious how you feel – the silent glares say it all-"

"What? I haven't-" Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, "By the Void, Zoya! I don't think you're a monster for doing what you did! I think you're brave, certainly more than me. But what about you? You can't even look at me. And it's justifiable! I mean, what kind of person lets someone do a thing like that for them? If I was a real Warden, I wouldn't have lost it when it was time to do my duty. I made the decision to end that man's life, but then I let you step in and do what I couldn't. And the worst part is that I felt relieved that I didn't have to do it. I'm a terrible person and an even worse leader. If I were Duncan…"

Now it was her turn to gawk, suddenly reminded that Alistair was barely older than her. He wasn't some seasoned Warden; he was just past the Joining himself. She gripped his arms, the words tumbling out in her haste to pass on her revelation. "But you're not Duncan! And neither am I. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that. Duncan has been a Grey Warden since before I was born. He's had plenty of time to learn how to be one, how to deal with guilt from hard choices and all this death and killing."

His struggle was plain on his face - brow furrowing, eyes searching, mouth tugging into a frown, "I don't know how he does it, how the other Wardens do it."

"Has he told you many stories about his early days in the Order? Or of his life before he was Conscripted? When he tells the old stories, his eyes… they look haunted. I'd wager that deep inside, he's not that different from us. He's just learned to deal with it better." A corner of her mouth twitched upward – she'd been on the receiving end of Duncan's lectures often enough that she could hear his deep voice in her head, "I just know that Duncan has been keen to remind me that guilt doesn't change what's already happened, and hanging on to regret only keeps you from making tough decisions later." She searched his face before finally locking on those expressive, hazel eyes, "Are you regretting making the decision to end that soldier's life?"

"No, I still believe it was the right thing to do." A knot formed between his brows as his mouth twisted, and he ducked his head to break their gaze, "I guess my regrets have more to do with you having to do it."

Zoya shook her head as her hands tightened on his arms, "You didn't order, or even ask, me to kill him, right? That was my choice – it's my guilt to bear, so stop flogging yourself."

He looked like he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her, "But you shouldn't have to bear it! That's what I'm trying to say."

"It's fine, Alistair." She tossed him a half-hearted smirk, "I'll just add it to the weight I already carry. We elves have been bred to bear burdens, just like mules or oxen."

"Andraste's flaming sword, Zoya! Please don't say that!" Alistair gaped, concern darkening his eyes, "You don't actually feel that way, do you?"

"No, I guess not, but…" she shrugged, a heavy sigh escaping her. "Look… death and I are better acquainted than I'd like. But as much I wish it, I can't change the past, and I don't see a dearth of death along the path I'm on." Glancing up at Alistair, she offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile, "Hopefully, we can figure out the best way to deal with it, before one, or both, of us becomes a raving lunatic."

"Agreed - best to avoid that!" Taking a deep breath, he blew it out through pursed lips, "So now that we know neither of us feels good about what we did or didn't do, and neither of us blames, or thinks less of, the other for it… This has helped, I think... talking about it. Maybe the trick is finding someone to share the weight with." Alistair offered a cautious smile before dropping his gaze to his feet and dragging a hand through his hair, "Umm… we're good now, right?"

Zoya started to return his smile and agree, but then she remembered what he'd done in the ravine, how he'd drained her mana. She took a step back, crossing her arms as she arched an eyebrow, "Not so fast, Warden. I can't believe you… you think a handsome face and charming smile will make me forget that you used your cursed Templar tricks on me?"

A flush rose in his cheeks, "You think I'm handsome?"

"What?" Heat rose in her own, Sweet Andraste… did I really just say that? She forced her face into a scowl, "That's what you're taking away from what I said?"

"No, I…" Alistair ran a hasty hand through his hair, "I thought you were going to set the whole ravine on fire. I wouldn't have done anything that would actually harm you-"

"Oh, I'm sure." Zoya arched an eyebrow as perched her fists on her hips, keeping him pinned and fidgeting with a fierce glare. She loosed a noisy breath, "Fine… I'll probably regret this, but I'll let it go this one time. But I swear to the Maker, if you ever turn Templar on me again, there will be payback."

A low chuckle sounded behind them, sending them each a step back from the other, "You do have a way with the ladies. Sounds like you're in for some fun – I'm sure she'll dream up a good punishment for you, mate." Daveth clapped a hand on Alistair's shoulder, "I hate to break this up, but don't we have to get back to the gate before sunset? I may have grown up in these parts, but I've got no want for spending the night out here, not when there's a lovely thing willing to warm me and my bedroll back at camp."

~oOo~

"Do you feel it?" Zoya's hushed voice sounded in the silence, her eyes flitting between the surrounding brush and the tense hand Alistair had raised to halt the party.

Alistair immediately regretted the sudden movement that had spun his head in her direction, wincing from the pounding in his temples and painful knots digging into the muscles between his shoulders. "You can feel the darkspawn?"

"No, the magic. You're sensing more darkspawn?" Her eyebrows shot upward, concern plain on her face. "Are you alright? You look, umm… not well." She brushed past Daveth as she head toward him, unscrewing the lid from a battered flask and holding out to him.

Daveth's eyes widened, "Hey! How did you-" He quieted, holding up his hands in submission once she turned a scowl in his direction.

Stepping closer to the elf, Alistair took a deep swig from the flask before handing it back to her. He lowered his voice so the men couldn't easily hear, "I'm just not used to being on constant alert for darkspawn presence. It's starting to feel like I've got axes embedded on either side of my spine." He gingerly shook his head, offering a reassuring smile when she moved nearer, drawing on her magic, "I'm fine – don't worry about it." Clasping a hand on the back of his neck, he rolled his shoulders, biting the inside of his cheek to stop any sounds of complaint. Idiot! I should have let her help…

Taking a deep breath, he sent his senses out, tensing when he found the odd signature that had led him to halt the party. It had been staying just at the edge of his perception for the last league or so, disappearing as soon as he became aware of it. But this time it hadn't vanished, instead taking on solid shape in his mind's eye, and he couldn't help but feel like it was sizing him up. "I think there's an emissary ahead. Maybe that's the magic you're feeling."

Zoya's eyes lost focus, "Hmm… maybe... but I've also been sensing glimmers of power trailing us – not anything threatening, but it's there. And then there's the-"

"Maybe it's the Witch of the Wilds!" Daveth's eyes widened, darting from tree to bush, "The Chasind say she hunts these woods, stealing babes and eating them."

"Well, then we've nothing to fear. We're bigger and far better armed than any babe," Zoya swept a hand over her hair as she chuckled.

Daveth's fingers fidgeted with the hilt of the dagger at his belt, "They also say she snatches up Chasind men to take back to her lair. She lies with them to spawn more witches, nursing the babes on the blood of her prisoners until they're nothing but husks."

"I can't help but think that's just wishful thinking on your part. Well, the spawning part at least," her mouth tugged into a smirk that she turned in Alistair's direction. "You've no reason to fear - we've got a former Templar with us. The witch won't be much of a threat once he steals away her magic. It's a trick he seems to be fond of."

"Sweet Andraste!" Alistair threw his hands in the air, "How many times do I have to apologize? You're not going to let it drop, are you?"

"Nope!" She stared at him with a maddeningly neutral expression, "I have to say… I'm a bit disappointed. I thought for sure that a trained Templar would have sensed the glyphs he was about to blunder into." Sauntering a handful of paces ahead of the party, she crouched down and pressed her hands to the ground. There was a small surge of power followed by a wave of muted pops and flashes of light along their intended trail. Turning back to him, she planted a fist on a jutted hip, an impish grin tugging at her lush lips, "A useful little trick, right? You're welcome by the way."

Alistair stared at her dumbfounded for a moment before her mischievous expression left him wanting to throttle her. Maker! That little… I'm going to have to keep a close watch on her! "Wait! Were you going to let us walk into those things?"

"Why would you think she would not?" Jory glared in her direction. "She has shown nothing but a complete disregard for our safety since we entered the Wilds."

"Actually I was hoping you'd be the one to stumble into them," Zoya scowled at the knight. The man lunged, his fist rising to strike her.

"Enough!" Alistair's fingers closed around Jory's wrist, and he shook his head in warning when the knight spun on him. A small part of him wished the man would take a swing so he'd have an excuse to trounce him. Or maybe he should just be done with it, toss Jory and Zoya into a pit to let them have it out. He loosed a frustrated grunt, "Nobody's getting caught in a glyph." As if the darkspawn, wild beasts, biting insects, and boot sucking muck weren't enough to watch out for… His voice was weary as he turned to the elf, pinning her with a stern look, "And since you're apparently so skilled in also detecting and disarming magical traps, Zoya, it'll be your responsibility to deal with them. What kind of glyphs were those anyway?"

She gave him a submissive bow of her head, not that he trusted such things from her anymore, then shrugged, "Who knows. But I doubt they'd have done anything pleasant - you rarely find glyphs that do. It's too bad really." Her nonchalance disappeared for a heartbeat when her gaze met his, but seemed to return with a roll of her eyes, "As if I would have let you wander into such a thing, especially not knowing what it would do. I'd wager Duncan would tan my hide if I returned to camp without you. As far as he's concerned, every Warden is worth his weight in gold…" Appraising eyes flitted over him, and his cheeks flushed when the saucy grin returned, "And that would make you the most valuable one here." A crimson eyebrow arched, the dimple in one of her cheeks deepening, "Although… if you can't focus on more than one thing at a time..."

Dragging a hand through his hair, Alistair muttered, "I was focused on darkspawn-"

Daveth chuckled, "If you're looking for a man who can focus on more than one thing at a time, girlie-"

"As if…" Zoya waved a dismissive hand in the rogue's direction, striding back to Alistair's side, all signs of earlier jocularity gone, "But getting back to the dangers at hand, you said something about an emissary nearby? Can we avoid it? I'm guessing the creature's not alone - what are we heading into?"

Alistair pulled out the map and flattened it on a chunk of an ancient granite pillar, letting his eyes slip shut as he sent out his senses. Once he'd confirmed the location of the darkspawn, his fingers traced along the map. "The Warden archive is located on this rise, but unless we want to go for a swim, it looks like the only way to it is across this bridge. It feels like the emissary is waiting for us there with a handful of strategically placed darkspawn – two groups between us and the bridge and one on the far side."

"And by handful, you mean what exactly?" Her green eyes were focused on the map and the movement of his finger along its features.

His head started throbbing again when he searched out individual darkspawn signatures, "I'd say no more than ten between the three groups."

"That's not very many. Just grunts?" She paused to wait for his nod, "So, the creature isn't trying to stop us from reaching the bridge." Zoya's dainty fingers traced over the parchment as she chewed her lip, "Maybe it's trying to lure us in and surround us, or use the darkspawn to drive us toward it? I don't know...it doesn't seem like they have the numbers to do either of those. But then, if the emissary is the real threat..." She turned her gaze toward him, "Have you encountered one before? How powerful is their magic?"

"I've never encountered one, but there's a first time for everything, right?" His attempt at a reassuring grin was met with a grimace from the elf, "I understand they're like human mages – some powerful, some not. But no matter the emissary's plan - and I don't doubt it has one as the creatures are supposedly cunning - we should proceed with caution. And in terms of darkspawn magic, those Templar skills you have such a problem with should work as well on an emissary as any mage."

Zoya resumed the tapping against her lips as she stared at the map, "Maybe we could set our own trap, try to lure it to us?"

"That's a bit of a gamble, don't you think? Even though they're few, they've still got the advantage of numbers." Alistair rubbed a hand along his chin as he considered possible strategies, "I think we need to rid ourselves of the emissary first. Once I dispel the creature's magic, it'll be as easy to kill as any other darkspawn. I'd wager there'll be a short bit of time when the suddenly leaderless darkspawn will be overtaken by their aggressive instincts, and they'll charge us in blind rage. We'll have the advantage of cunning-"

"Well, some of us might have that advantage." Zoya's eyes widened, "I'm not particularly keen on any plan that includes me losing my magic." Alistair could almost see the thoughts spinning in her head, "What if I took out the emissary, like how I dealt with the archers? The creature would be dead before it realizes I'm there, and we'll be able to take out the darkspawn without being at risk from its magic."

Alistair's stomach churned at the thought of Zoya going up against an emissary alone, "I see your point, but I'm not keen on your plan either. You'll be on your own once you reach the emissary, and we won't be able to get to you quickly if anything goes wrong. And then there's the darkspawn on the other side of the bridge."

She shook her head sadly, "We've been through this before. So little faith in my abilities…" Crossing her arms, a furrow cut between delicate eyebrows, "It's just one darkspawn! And I'd wager an emissary is smaller than a bereskarn and less dangerous than a desire demon, and I handled those creatures just fine. And as for the other darkspawn, they aren't a danger if they're stuck on the far side of the bridge. Or did you think I only know how to detect and disarm magical glyphs and other traps? If it'll make you feel better, I promise not to take on the remaining creatures until you arrive."

"Is there no limit to this creature's cockiness?" Jory muttered.

Alistair ignored the surly knight, speaking before Zoya could retort, "I can't help but think you're underestimating the danger here." There's a fine line between cocky and confident, and Zoya seems to be walking it. But if she's so sure she can do this – who am I to doubt her? So far, their encounters with small patrols and stragglers had ended before they really started. Daveth and Zoya had been deadly efficient in eliminating any threat before it got close enough for Alistair or Jory to wet their blades. It was probably a good thing he'd stayed out of Daveth's contest for points - he didn't have the coin to buy a drink for himself, let alone a round. Alistair offered her a small smile in response to her dramatic eye roll, "Alright, you win… I'm willing to give your plan a shot."

The details came together easily enough, likely because Jory had stormed away in a huff. The knight showed no sign of ever warming to the elf, and that Alistair wasn't taking his side just seemed to increase the man's animosity. With Daveth deciding he'd rather bask in the afternoon sun, Alistair and Zoya were left to strategize. They bent over the map, finding the best rendezvous and vantage points as well as the best spots to lure the darkspawn. Before long they were on their way, feeling confident in their plan.

Once they reached their starting point, Zoya offered a sly grin, leaving the men hidden in granite ruins as she disappeared into the brush on silent feet. Time dragged on as Alistair listened for any sign of her, nearly leaping out of his skin when he heard her soft chuckle behind him.

"It's like time stood still after I left – none of you have moved a hair…" She regarded the men with a raised eyebrow, "I've set the glyphs between here and the nearest patrol, marking them just as we discussed. The others know how to avoid them, right?"

Alistair gazed down at Zoya, momentarily distracted by the sight of the sun glinting off the copper highlights in her hair. Resisting the urge to pluck a stray leaf from the loose curls, he smiled, "I wish I could say I wouldn't love to let Jory stumble into one, but…"

"Glad I'm not the only one who feels that way." Her laughter lightened his heart, dimples deepening as she shot him a wide grin, "Well, I'll leave the telling up to you then. Good hunting, Alistair. See you on the other side." She winked, bowing with a flourish. With an elegant gesture of her hand, the air shimmered and she disappeared from view.

The men shifted toward the first rendezvous point, catching their first glimpse of the emissary. The creature might not have been any larger than the average hurlock, but it was an intimidating sight, painted with human blood and wearing armor reinforced with human bones. Maker! I was an idiot to agree to Zoya taking that thing on by herself! But the decision had been made, and now all he could do was hunker down to watch. Once the emissary fell, Jory and Alistair would take on the darkspawn between them and the bridge, with Daveth thinning their numbers from a nearby rise.

The emissary's fanged mouth stretched into something that resembled a grin, its stare following something to its flank. By the Void! That's the direction Zoya went. It couldn't possibly be… The creature's clawed hand lashed out, black lightning rolling up its arm as it dragged Zoya from between the Veil. She writhed in pain, completely at its mercy as dark tendrils of power twined around her.

"I'm guessing that wasn't part of the plan?" Daveth's voice sounded near his shoulder.

"Void take it! We have to help her!" His mind spun in near panic, instincts screaming for him to rush to her rescue. He sucked in a ragged breath, forcing himself to slow down, to think it through, "Alright, new plan... I'll head up the center, draw its attention. Maybe if it thinks I'm the greater threat, it'll let her go. Daveth, show me how good you are with that bow. Jory, draw as many of the creatures as you can toward the glyphs Zoya set up. If I fall taking out the emissary, do whatever you can to get her out of here and back to Duncan."

The men nodded, faces grim as they headed to the flanking position. Alistair took a deep breath, locking eyes with the emissary as he drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders. He could swear it was laughing at him, shaking Zoya like a ragdoll as the dark energy slithered over her. He charged forward with a bellow, putting his shoulder behind his shield as he barreled through the few darkspawn stupid enough to get in his way. But the emissary seemed unimpressed, gesturing lazily with a hand to throw up a barrier.

Alistair slid to a halt, sure he didn't want to come in contact with the murky wall separating them. This instinct was confirmed when Daveth's arrow thunked uselessly against it before dissolving in black flame. Glancing toward the nearby clashing of metal and triumphant grunts, he saw that Jory had drawn off three darkpawn and was holding them at bay with the gleaming sweep of his sword, "Daveth, do what you can to keep the pressure off!"

"You got it - go get her, mate!" The rogue drew another arrow from his quiver, nodding with a feral grin as it sank into a darkspawn's back, "And tell her I'm ahead in the points, so she better stop playing and get back to work!"

Zoya would likely be furious with him, but he had no choice but to turn to his Templar skills. As he gathered his power, he felt energy humming within him, a righteous might flooding his muscles. He loosed it, sending forth the purifying flood of energy, knowing it would carry any magic away like debris in a surging river.

The emissary collapsed to its knees as the cleanse hit, taking Zoya to the ground with it. Snarling, its clawed hand tightened on her throat. But as far as he could tell, she didn't react in any way, her body limp in its clutches. Maker, let her still be alive… With a fierce roar, Alistair charged forward, nearly tripping as Zoya's eyes flew open. They rolled back in her head as she grimaced, driving her blades into the emissary's side.

Momentum carried Alistair forward, his shield smashing into the creature's head as the gleaming arc of his sword sliced through its arm. While the darkspawn flew back from him, Zoya crumpled into a pile.

"Zoya! Are you alright?" Dropping to her side, Alistair's hands frantically searched her for visible wounds. Bruises were already darkening her throat, blood welling where the emissary's claws had pierced the pallid skin. As Jory and Daveth rushed toward them, he waved them past to deal with the darkspawn on the far side of the bridge. But his eyes never left the elf, her skin so pale it was almost grey, her breathing coming in rasps. "Are you injured? Maker, can you heal what it did to you?"

Emerald eyes slid open, boring into his as she thumped him on the chest with small fists, croaking, "Of course I can't - you dispelled my magic, moron!"

An icy grip clenched Alistair's heart as she focused her furious gaze on him, "Andraste's flaming sword! I had no choice – the emissary's magic was killing you. And it threw up a barrier, so I had no other way to stop it! I was trying to save you!"

"I had it under control! Or were you hoping to finish what the emissary started?" A scowl twisted her face as she pushed herself upright, "You need to undo it - bring back the magic! Now, Alistair!" Her agitation was growing with every breath, sounding more like panic than anger as her hand clutched her chest.

"I'm sorry, but I can't bring it back! We either need to wait it out or move outside the area impacted." The corner of his mouth shot upwards, "Not that I'm anxious for you to be able to use your magic again – I'm guessing I won't be happy with what you'll do to me once you can."

"This is serious!" She pinned him with a look that could have killed, "If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn't need my magic to do it. I swear, if I live to see the end of the day-"

He gaped at her. Did Duncan tell her that not everyone survives the Joining? Or were her injuries that severe?

She flopped back down to the ground, her face wan, "This day is really not going so well…"

Alistair's fingers closed around hers, giving a reassuring squeeze to the icy digits, "Zoya, you'll be fine! We've got healing potions-"

"Potions… You can't fix this with a potion." Zoya pressed his hand to her chest, "What do you feel?"

What do I feel? The subtle swell of her breasts heaved under his hand. His cheeks blazed red, and when he tried to speak, it was nothing more than nonsensical stammering.

"I mean with your Warden senses, nitwit!" Zoya growled.

He offered an apologetic grimace and let his eyes slip shut. They flew open moments later. The foulness surged through her, and he choked back the bile rising in his throat, "You're infected – I've never felt anything like this. Is this something the emissary did, something about the dark tendrils?"

Zoya dragged a hand across her face, leaving a black smear from eyebrow to jaw. She quieted for a moment, staring at the ground and biting hard into her lip, "It happened on the way to Ostagar, while Duncan and I were among the Dalish."

"If that's true, how did I not sense this earlier? Why didn't you say something? Why didn't Duncan tell me?" He gripped her shoulders, his jaw clenching, "By the Void! Why did you keep this from me?" Her head rolled alarmingly on her neck as he gave her a shake, and he forced his hands to gentleness.

Taking a deep breath, she pressed a fist against her chest, her voice ragged. "It was contained. I just needed to do the Joining, and I'd have been fine. But then you cleansed my magic, and the cage failed. Now the filth is loose and spreading fast."

As his fingers tightened on her shoulders again, her expression became increasingly pained, "Maker's breath! Can't you contain it again?"

"Not like before – I had help last time from the clan's Keeper." She held up her hand as if calling her magic to her, eyes glittering as she came up empty, "And someone took my magic away, remember?"

"I'm sorry! But if I'd known-" Damn it! Why didn't she tell me! His frustration must have been clear on his face as she cringed and looked away. "Alright, we don't have much time. We've got the vials of darkspawn blood. We'll get you back to Ostagar, to the Joining."

She loosed a ragged breath, "No. We still need to find the treaties. They're so close – just on that rise! And if you take me back, you won't be able to retrieve them and get back to the camp before dark. I can head back by myself-"

"Do you really think I'd let you head off by yourself in this condition?" He resisted the urge to shake her yet again, "We should stick together. There are more darkspawn nearby, and I'm sure it won't be long before they head in this direction – you'll never make it back by yourself."

Zoya rolled her eyes, "How many times do I have to say it - I can take care of myself, Alistair."

Alistair dug in the pouch at his belt for a health potion, ignoring her scowl as he raised the vial to her lips and tipped it back. "I'm sure you can. But for all our sakes, I think we should stick together. We wouldn't want Duncan tanning anyone's hide, right?"

She grimaced as she swallowed, "Then I suggest we hurry. Once I get my magic back, I might be able to stave off the spread of the infection a bit, but I don't know how successful that will be or how long it'll be before I… before it-"

Any lingering anger he felt towards the elf for hiding her condition from him dissipated at the sight of the fear darkening her eyes, "Oh… Maker! I can't tell you enough how sorry I am! If only you'd told me…"

Her teeth pressed into a bloodless lip, "I wanted to say something earlier… back at the kennels, once we headed into the Wilds. But the way you looked at the mabari, at then at that soldier… I didn't want you treating me like I was damaged, coddling me or giving me that look you're giving me now – like I'm going to drop dead or turn into a ghoul any moment."

"You're going to be fine!" Alistair gripped her hand, hoping he sounded more hopeful than he felt. Sending out his senses once more, he could feel the corruption within her, "Well, that's odd. It feels like... almost like what I felt with the mabari. When I first sensed your infection, it was… but now… How is that possible?" Maybe it was the shock of finding her to be infected that made me think she's worse off than she is.

"I don't… well, when Duncan and I were in the Forest…" Zoya's face pinched, knuckles whitening as her fingers clutched his. "Look – now isn't the time for this conversation. The longer we sit here, the less my body will be able to fight it back… The infection will grow stronger. I just don't know how quickly… and you might have to…" She chuckled darkly, "Although I'm guessing Jory would be more than happy to step in and finish me off."

"That's not going to happen. We'll get the scrolls and get you back to Ostagar before it's too late." Alistair rose to his feet, hauling her up. She stiffened as he wrapped an arm around her waist. He was suddenly struck by how light, how delicate she felt tucked into the crook of his arm, "I promise I'll get you back there, even if I have to toss you over my shoulder and carry you the entire way."

Zoya's head drooped against his chest for a moment before she pushed herself free and squared her shoulders. Her jaw tightened with grim determination as she headed for the bridge on trudging feet. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

A/N - Thank you to Eve Hawke for her beta of this chapter!