Chapter 45

Questioning Beliefs I

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Mahariel

The signal was given.

From where I stood, I could see at least six or seven huge werewolves - all with dark fur and with the same black mark near their necks - invading the camp and jumping onto the elvhen. Such was the ferocity and brutality of the attack that they looked more like demons collecting the souls of the lost than forest beings.

The strangest thing, however, was that no one but the two of us looked at all surprised by all of this. In fact, their reaction speed and the way they reacted to the bell made me believe that they already knew this would happen.

In fact, I dared to say that perhaps this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

The fight was intense but quick - the twenty werewolves didn't have a chance. It was as if they had purchased a war already lost, and the Uthen'len were definitely more than ready for a threat of that magnitude. More than we were, at least.

They carried long weapons - thick spears and sharp axes, some even larger than themselves, and were handling them with more mastery and precision than their slender appearances would suggest. And always aiming for the head, always.

They had formations, tactics and plans... Noah and I just looked at each other in astonishment, with both uncertainty and surprise, probably sharing the same thoughts as we prepared our own weapons. Not that I thought we would need them... After all, if it depended only of the spirit of my brothers and sisters, there wouldn't be a single werewolf standing in that forest.

But nothing ever depended solely on the one's spirit

"Climb up the tree," Noah said suddenly, trying to push me as far away from the confusion as possible.

"What...?" I asked, trying to disentangle myself from him, but he was more than determined to drag me away, even if that meant that he would need to lift my feet off the ground. I managed to take a few steps away from him, towards the attack, but he soon stopped me, holding my elbow.

"If they catch you, you're dead," he pulled me back, causing my foot to slip in the thin mud. Instead of falling to the ground, I crashed tightly against his chest. His long, strong arms wrapped around me at the same time, pulling me against him to keep me upright.

And it was not a short embrace.

There was firmness in his grasp, tenderness in his touch and warmth in his eyes. Stabilized, though still in his domain, I raised my head just enough for our eyes meet, feeling his muscles slowly getting used to the shape of my body. He was motionless, perusing my features, but again I didn't find hatred in his expression, just a strange contemplation and ardor, which were also present during our earlier conversation.

Never had someone looked at me in that way. Not with so much intensity, and... honesty, I'd say. He wasn't hiding anything - it was as if his deepest feelings were radiating freely from his brown irises, although I wasn't able to tell what they wanted to say.

And the heat that invaded my body wasn't familiar at all, although the situation had a little taste of deja vu.

"Live..." The words echoed through my mind. "I don't want the weight of your death on my back , so... Survive, and throw it in my face later."

Were his words.

He'd told me that on the first evening we'd met after the fall of Ostagar. I Could not tell whether the familiarity of that situation made me remember just now, in the midst of the chaos, but it happened. It was a peculiar moment, which I hated with all my strength, and that was buried deep in my soul. But here, in his arms, that memory seemed more tender than it actually had been.

His words didn't sound so sarcastic, as they had originally seemed. It was a broken plea, real and sincere, filled with regret and despair.

"I lived," my mouth moved on its own, whispering quietly, not caring one bit whether or not he would understood the context of my words. "And... You could say that I 'm throwing it in your face right now, as you once asked." I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to look him right in the eyes, no more hiding myself behind my hair. "The weight of my death is not on your back. This makes you a better person?"

That rude and unbearable brute, the coldhearted human, had a touch too gentle for his temperamental personality; eyes too tender for someone so cruel. It was so contradictory... Not even when my voice came out more reproachful and arrogant than I had planned, did he demonstrate any sign of the hatred he'd always insisted ran through his veins..

His warm neutrality was disturbingly enjoyable.

"Better Person?" He thought for a moment, and I don't think it was my imagination that his arms tightened ever so slighly around me. "No."

He said I was not supposed to expect anything from him, with hatred burning in his eyes and rudeness corrupting the words that came from his lips. But ever since he had shared his tragic past, all he'd done was be nice.

No... On second thought, he was never exactly nice, but at least he became tolerable. Strangely bearable. I mean, there was no revulsion in his eyes when he looked at me, and every time we talked, he appeared at least to be civilized. Even comprehensive, if I am allowed to go so far.

"However, satisfied, I would say," He placed me back on my feet carefully, and his hands slipped from my shoulders down to my elbows slowly, as if he was... checking, perhaps? Exploring? All I knew was that his warm and strangely tender hands made my skin shiver beneath his touch, and a strange dryness invaded my mouth. "The purpose was accomplished."

My face burned from the intensity of that pair of melted chocolates staring at me with heavy eyelids, and with something else hidden there - that very thing that created terror from his mere presence, the fear that his substantial figure imposed, disappeared as if it were just a figment of my imagination. Something that mirrored the gesture of his hand, which was raised hesitantly near my face, but I was too mesmerized to care. Just like I didn't care when the tip of his fingers lightly touched a lock of my hair, threatening to move it somewhere, but he soon retreated, taking half a step back and breaking that strange and warm thing going between us.

"I cannot be concerned about protecting you alone down here..." He cleared his throat loudly, completely breaking contact with another half step back. The cold rain invading the emptiness of his hand made me miss him in a way that I never thought would be possible. "Cover me from up there."

I was about to open my mouth to reply, but the sight of a huge black figure literally flying towards us made me push him away forcefully. "Too late!"

While Noah fell to the ground, slipping away because of the mud, the arrows from my bow found its way to the werewolf's face, causing him to land with its nose on the ground,, struggling in pain while trying to grab his claws into something.

In me, to be accurate.

It was complicated to run amid so much water, especially with those huge arms covering so much distance with every thrust. It had scratched my face and arm in that small space of time, but before I could turn into his meal, Noah took advantage of the distraction and rode on its back, pinning his sword without mercy between its ribs. Soon, the mud puddle at our feet was dyed with red, and the dead body of the beast fell between us.

It surprised me how he could kill these beasts, almost by himself. He made it seem easier than it actually was.

"Damn..." I complained quietly, looking at the three scarlet scratches on my arm. It felt like there were ember fragments glued to my skin, and it was impossible to avoid the grimace that crossed my face - those cuts were deep, irregular, and looked like they wouldn't stop bleeding any time soon.

Not even the cold water could soften the burning on my flesh, but my worried look was not because of the pain.

"Next time, climb up the fucking tree." He said, covered in mud and blood, holding my elbow to analyze the wounds. His expression was awful, and I was pretty sure we were thinking the same thing, but neither of us wanted to voice it.

What were the chances? That I was infected with this thing, whatever it was?

"You!" Zathrian bellowed from the center of the camp, raising an accusing finger while striding toward us -towards me - with half of the clan following behind him closely.

And the other half was already encircling us .

"Arrest this traitor!" Zathrian cried, and Andruil may judge me and condemn me for my words, but I swear I saw satisfaction plastered all over his face.

I tried to wield my bow against him, but the scratch on my arm had drained my strength.

"Arrest her?" One of the elves questioned, exchanging unsure glances between Noah, Zathrian and me. "Can we do that, Keeper? She's a Grey Warden..."

"A Grey Warden that had led humans to our vhen'an*!" he announced, perhaps facing me for the first time since we'd arrived..

His hate and lies brought me back to the Exalted Marches against The Dales, during the Glory Age, where the Chantry led so many soldiers against the Elvhen for their selfish reasons - I felt like I was General Rajmael, the leader of the resistance, and Zathrian was an Inquisitor, the one who would put and end to the existence of the enemies of the human God.

"Don't you dare!" Noah yelled, placing himself between us. He faced Zathrian with such brutality and savagery that he hit his forehead against the Keeper's, their eyes never diverging from each other. That Zathrian would be able to go up against him, forcing Noah's forehead back with his own was a surprise. He could force another Hex spell on Noah, but instead, he had chosen to fight fire with fire. Brutallity against brutallity, as if their manly pride was depending on it.

"Arrest that woman!" Zathrian growled between his teeth, and some elves came closer, aiming to take my quiver and bow. In some of them, I could clearly see a silent request for my pardon - they were confused, torn between reason and the orders of their Keeper.

"You're out of your mind, Zathrian..." I complained, trying to push Noah away from him. "You have no right ..."

"Don't use your title as a shield, daughter of Aldor!" He pushed my shoulder. "You are a Grey Warden, yes - I can feel the corruption of your kind running through your veins. But still, she's the Grey Warden who brought the wolves to threaten our families!" He turned to the crowd, glancing quickly at each member of his clan, and his speech of only a few words had caused such a powerful effect on them, but that left me unmoved. The mere mention of the beasts made any of their remaining hesitation disappear, and the history of struggle and dedication of my clan was completely ignored.

"Keeper Zathrian, please be reasonable..." Lanaya tried to interfere, but Zathrian silenced her with a hand gesture.

"Will you allow an ally of the beasts to walk freely among us?! " He screamed like a preacher of the Chantry, convincent and engaging. After that, I didn't feel like hearing his empty speech.

I had lost that fight.

The fear of those people had condemned me the moment Zathrian had exposed his arguments, and while the guards - now filled with great courage and fury - held me by the arms and took my weapon with a fierce resolve, internally I was slowly giving up.

It was not the bruising on my arm, or the acute pain that had penetrated through my muscles when their icy hands tightened my wounds, that kept me from reacting, but the bitter surprise that erupted in my stomach once I digested everything that was happening: I was a prisoner within my own home, among my own people. What bothered me the most was me that my family name, my own name, was not completely unknown, quite the contrary - my father had given his blood to save the Dalish. And, I was a Dalish as they were... Even so, they didn't think twice about calling me a criminal, taking my bow and looking at me with contempt and bitterness.

Sentenced by my brothers and sisters. The people I called family, and had defended as if they were my blood kin... It was too much to endure.

"Get your hands off her!" Noah growled, intent on killing Zathrian, the guards, and any other elf that would dare to get in his way. The pained expression on Eilleen's face, and her eyes becoming red again, made Noah lose the rest of his composure. He didn't know the pain that afflicted her so deeply was not exaclty physical, but spiritual - her heart was broken, and more than ever, she felt abandoned and alone, like she had never felt in her whole life. But no matter - he wanted the hunters to take their heavy, dirty hands off her - whatever the cost.

Five elves were necessary to keep the human in place, and even then, he stopped just a few inches away from Zathrian, nearly crushing their faces against each other again.

"Take her," The Keeper ordered empathically, ignoring the silent pleas ot Lanaya. "I need to have a serious talk with this ignoble. In private."

The elves, angry and determined, dragged Mahariel mercilessly toward the torture pit - an isolated spot at the farthest end of the camp, which was filled with cages, chains and some not-so-friendly instruments of interrogation. The wretched place had witnessed the deaths of several werewolves and many naughty humans over the centuries.

"Keeper, at least allow her to stay under my supervision for a while," Lanaya pleaded, terrified while watching Zathrian's personal guards dragging Eilleen to a place as terrible as that. Even if those tools were used against those who'd done evil to her brothers and sisters, Lanaya was against cruelty in all its forms, and the fact that her childhood friend would face the terror of that place did not bring her any peace. "She's hurt, and my tent has shackles we could use. Please Zathrian, I beg you..."

Zathrian shot an unfriendly glance to his First, but eventually relented. "As you wish, Lanaya. Be aware, however, that she is your responsible from now on. If something happens..."

"I know. Thank you, Keeper," She made a brief bow, before rushing toward the guards. That eased the heart of Noah at least a little bit - he could feel that the two had a bond, and if she was around, the chances of Mahariel getting hurt in the process were very low, or so he believed.

But even if he was subconsciously worried, his gaze never left Zathrian's.

"You are their leader, I presume," he said, not even a bit intimidated by the heavy breathing of Noah crashing against his face. "It matters not. We have business to discuss, human, and you will accompany me. Very willingly and passively, to my tent, to talk."

"If you let me go, I'll kill you," Noah warned, increasing the hatred of the crowd, and forcing the other hunters to raise their weapons against him. Zathrian, noticing the commotion of his people, raised a hand to stop any protest against his orders.

"You will accompany me civilly," he repeated, maintaining a calm neutrality in his voice. "Because your friends are in my custody." He looked over Noah's shoulders, pleased to see his men bringing Leliana and the Qunari with them, with their hands tied behind their backs. In the distance, Noah could hear the muffled growls of Shaw-shaw, who was being dragged by his paws from his place beside Kallian right into the middle of all the confusion. His snout was tied tightly with thick leather straps, and he struggled violently against the ropes wrapped around his furred body, so much so that three elves were required to completely immobilize the faithful little dog.

"The witch has escaped, Keeper," Gale said, pulling Leliana by her arm. "Should I go after her?"

"She is the daughter of Asha'bel'annar," Zathrian walked around Noah, rubbing his chin with certain satisfaction. "The farther away she is, the better. I already have enough to deal without having the daughter of Flemeth meddling in our affairs."

Noah just looked back quietly, his eyes heavy with defeat. He was surrounded - it was not like he had any chance of winning a direct confrontation against the Keeper, as was his wish. Zathrian had power, numerical advantage and hostages - if Noah continued thrashing like a wild beast, it would only cause those accidents aforementioned by Zathrian to happen in advance.

"As you wish, Keeper." He said, and the words were bitter in his mouth, even more so after the smile of victory crossed the lips of the elvhen leader. To have to lower his head to someone like him was one of the most disgusting feelings that Noah had ever felt in his life, but it had to be done.

He had no alternative. It was a choice between his pride and the lives of the people that his heart already considered its own, part of his troubled family. He couldn't afford the weight of more death on his back. He just couldn't.

With a nod, Zathrian ordered the hunters to set him free , and it was with much regret that Noah dropped his shoulders and cracked his neck, instead of sinking the Keeper's nose into his skull with his bare firsts.

"Follow me," Zathrian said, pointing the way to his tent.

- x -

Noah followed him reluctantly, and only watched as the surrounding elves opened the way for them. In the distance, he could see Mahariel entering the infirmary with Lanaya, and it definitely made the anger in his heart subside a bit. Just knowing that the guards were outside, it was a relief - he didn't know Lanaya's nature yet, but at least the chances of something going wrong between the two of them, and the Dalish Warden suffering any kind of abuse or assault, was almost irrelevant compared to what it originally had been.

When Zathrian closed the cloth door behind them, Noah crossed his arms after sitting on the edge of the Keeper's desk. The tent was smaller than Lanaya's, composed of a bookcase, a bed and a long table. Curios and symbols of magic could be seen everywhere, hanging on the brown cloth around them or over the furniture. He did not recognize any of them.

Zathrian grimaced to see the human driipping water on his mahogany desk, but said nothing.

"What do you want, playing these games, Zathrian?" he asked, staring at him with his head slightly tilted down behind the wet strands of hair covering his forehead.

"No games were played," he replied, smiling as he imitated Noah's gesture, sitting on the edge of his bed guard. The arrogant position of the Keeper left Noah deeply irritated, and the fact that he could only silently swallow the elf's presumption only worsened the bitter taste in his mouth.

"No?" Noah lifted his arms and smacked his thighs with his hands. "Care to explain the witch hunt just now?"

Zathrian twisted his lips in a gesture of contempt. "Protecting my people from a despicable traitor, that's all."

"Don't you dare to talk about her that way!" Noah growled.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know that I was offending your whore..." Noah stood with unbridled momentum, ready to leave the shape of his hand marked on the elf's slim body - but a finger, just one raised finger from Zathrian making a negative sign, made him think twice. "Let's not forget what is at stake, yes?" he pointed to his desk, and Noah - without much choice - returned to his seat . "Do not worry, I didn't call you here to speak of that filthy traitor. I came to announce that, from now on, you will work for me."

Notes:

Vhen'an* - home

Asha'bel'annar - Flemeth

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Please, R&R! ;D