Chapter 46

Royal Flush*

.

"Not even in your wildest dreams!" Noah replied without thinking, standing abruptly. "You scold me and my group, threaten my personal life and have not only been insubordinate, but also disrespected my order more times than I can count." Zathrian only listened in silence, the smile of satisfaction never leaving his face. "There's no room for negotiations anymore. Not after everything you've done."

Zathrian chuckled, lowering his head as he smiled to himself. "I'm afraid that your current position is not good enough to allow you the freedom to chose anything."

"My current position is good enough to break all your teeth, you bastard... " Noah growled, but once again, it wasn't strong enough to shake Zathrian's confidence.

"Sorry, but I didn't quite hear what you said," the elf said sarcastically, pointing to the tent's makeshift door. A Weak Force spell was enough to make the cloth fly into the air for a few seconds, revealing the meeting place in the distance. Noah was able to see the blurred figures of Leliana and the Qunari under the rain, still being held captive by the elves, before the cloth fell back into place. "Could you repeat that? Please?"

"Nothing, Keeper." The bitter taste of Noah's pride being dissolved in his mouth from saying those submissive words made him feel like vomiting. His tongue was sore from verbally appeasing Zathrian so often, he had to literally bite it to not speak the words he should not. And before answering the elf, he crossed his arms tightly against his body, to make sure that his fists would not find their way to the Keeper's face of their own accord.

"So much the better." Zathrian said, and rather than more laughter or another smirk, his face was completely serious. It looked like he was someone else, completely different - tired, tense, stressed, and, above all, desperate. When he continued, his voice had no sarcasm, no presumption, only the seriousness of several generations of elves who had perished because of their problem with the werewolves.

"I have a serious problem," the elf said, now looking outside of the tent through the empty spaces between the makeshift door and the cloth walls. "But I think you are already aware of what this is about."

"The werewolves," Noah said, still embracing his own body.

"Fen'ghi*, as we call them," Zathrian nodded. "My people are dying." He frowned. "This is about a... plague, infectious and lethal, that even when it does not destroy the body, it corrupts the soul."

Noah grunted deeply in his throat, remembering how Alistair turning into one of those horrible monsters. "I am well aware of that - tell me something I don't know."

"I see that you care enough about your friends, since you never think twice before confronting me because of them." Zathrian finally looked at Noah, but this time there was contentment in his expression, almost as if he approved of the direction the conversation was taking. "But what I want you to understand is that exactly what you are experiencing with them right now - the plague, the fear of the loss - I have lived with for annalas* relentlessly, and I assure you that it won't be with offenses and outbreaks of anger that you will solve everything so easily "

"And apparently, acting as an arrogant, smug asshole also was not of much help either," Noah snapped, feeling secure enough to uncross his arms.

The elf sighed heavily . " It is true that my... methods... were not exactly effective, yes." It was Zathrian's turn to bite his tongue. "And that's exactly why I'm still being relatively tolerant of everything related to your person."

Noah frowned - he was not enjoying any of it.

"You still don't understand, do you, human? You will work for me - simple as that." Zathrian stood and got dangerously close to Noah. "You will do everything I tell you - will not question any of my decisions or methods, and if you dare to breathe, without my consent, even just once…" He whispered so closer that Noah could feel his breathing fanning his face. "Nae'ros ara vir, Nae tu abelas.*"

"Din ar'dala na shem'el*" Noah whispered back, secretly thanking Aldous and Helius, the storyteller and herbalist of the castle, for teaching him about the elven language. It was pretty ironic that most of his out-of-combat knowledge was given to him by the same race that was now was trying to kill him.

Zathrian failed to hide his surprise. "So, you know a few elvhen words. Impressive."

"Thankfully I had the chance to live with some good elves, who were much more enjoyable company than you." Noah recrossed his arms.

He chuckled, ironically. "That does not change, however, your current situation - whether you chose it or not, your fate was sealed the moment you took your first step inside my camp."

"And if I refuse?" Noah's voice was so close to the wild growl of the werewolves that Zathrian had to check the human's body twice for signs of wounds, before returning his attention to one of the strange symbols hanging on the cloth wall behind his desk.

"Eilleen will be executed for treason." Was his only reply. He ran his long fingers over the curves and grooves of the strange wooden totem, ignoring once more the guttural sounds that escaped from the Warden's throat.

"You can't just execute her. She is a Grey Warden - she is above you." Noah again crossed his arms to try to keep himself in place, but every time the elf opened his mouth, the more difficult it was to control his anger. The ringing in his ears, that for a long time hadn't troubled his thoughts, returned at full strength, and was rapidly becoming a strong migraine. "You know that, but pretend to ignore it. You are one step closer to earning the fury of the order..."

"Less than a month ago, Eilleen came to us on the verge of death - no one could have possibley known of her existence. And even if they had, who could prove anything? You? The Qunari? That Chantry bitch?" Zathrian chuckled. "There's no crime without evidence, my dear human of questionable temperament. If I choose to cease your existence right here, right now, no one ever will ever know the truth."

"But you will not do anything against me, because you need my help," Zathrian didn't confirm it, but his immediate frown gave him away. Noah was sure that he'd hit the spot.

"What I need are guarantees."

"We were willing to help from the very beginning," Noah growled. "But you didn't even bother to listen..."

"Oh, please." The elf shook his head in disagreement. "The Grey Wardens were never known for their generosity. Moreover," he said, and returned to his place by the bed. "If it was a simple case of brutality or savagery, which is the language that your person speaks, I would have solved the problem by myself a long time ago. But isn't that simple."

"They are not immortals, so I don't see how this could be a problem."

"I have enough firepower to decimate the forest if I wish, but that would not solve the problem." He scratched his head impatiently. "When one dies, two appear in its place." He started gesturing, making a visual representation of his words. "They run through the forest, infecting unwarned travelers, infecting my people, and their numbers keep increasing like rabbits in heat." He frowned with an expression of pain that Noah considered sincere. "Every time a werewolf attacks, part of me dies with the brother or sister who I had to kill to protect my clan. It's a cruel and vicious cycle that needs to be nipped in the bud. But the wolves are smarter, more than I'd like. They know the secrets of the forest as much as we do, and for annalas * they keep slipping throught my fingers.

"And that's why you're still here - we need the element of surprise, something which they are not expecting, " Zathrian continued. "Find the nest of those disgusting creatures, corner their leader, Witherfang! And... bring me his heart."

"And you, the great and omnipotent elf wants the ignoble human to fix your incompetence? What irony!" Noah chuckled wryly. "If you want me to clean up your mess, you will have to honor the treaties!"

"My people will not fight the Blight!" Zathrian growled.

"You have no idea the kind of terror and chaos that will spread throughout Ferelden if they win!"

"I do!" Zahtrian shouted, and his anger exploded the wooden totem behind the desk, causing Noah to jump in place. "I fought for over ten years alongside The Great Gaharel against Andoral, the Dragon of Slaves****! Ten years!" The fury in his eyes almost sparkled in response to the excess of mana that exuded from his body. "Don't you dare say that again!"

"Gaharel, the elf hero?" Noah's eyes widened in disbelief. "But the Fourth Blight ended more than four hundred years ago..."

"I will not allow my people to go through that! Not after all they have suffered!" Zathrian exclaimed, ignoring Noah's comments and decimating another piece of decoration with his force spell.

"If you have lived at least half of what you have said, you know that what awaits your people after our defeat will be far worse than anything that Thedas has ever witnessed!" Noah growled louder than Zathrian, towering easily over the elf.

Zathrian stared at him with contempt. "Don't think that you have the right to talk to me like this just because I allowed you to have a second chance. You have more to lose than I do."

"Really?" Noah smirked, but didn't flinch. "I think I have nothing to lose."

"Not even a cure for the redhead elf?" The Keeper said quietly, nonchalanty, and it was with great pleasure that he watched the victorius expression of Noah crumble before his very eyes. "The heart of the pack leader is able to not only produce a powerful antidote, but also bring a definitive solution to the problem." The fact that Noah had stayed silent allowed Zathrian to approach him with his best smug posture. "Do you still think that you have nothing to lose?"

Noah didn't answer.

"You have until the solar apex to grab the Chantry bitch and the Quanri, and start the hunt." Zathrian continued, making his way toward the exit. "Meanwhile, Eilleen Mahariel will stay under my personal supervision. Hereafter…." He hesitated a bit before continuing. "We can talk about your Blight problem after you're done with Witherfang. Until then, don't dare to face me again without a solution."

"Their claws," Noah said before he could completely exit the tent. "Are they infected as well?"

Zathrian hesitated to answer, but Noah didn't notice. "Yes, human. As lethal as their teeth." He also didn't recognize the winning smile that appeared on the Keeper's lips as he remembered the injuries that Eilleen had suffered during the last werewolf attack. "And if I were you, I would began my hunt as soon as possible, because..." He looked over his shoulder one last time before leaving Noah alone with his thoughts. "If she or the redhead transform themselves, I will not hesitate to kill them with my own bare hands."

Noah

Zathrian left the tent and took the ground with him.

I don't know how my legs hadn't failed so far, but they were shaking more than I could handle. I had no choice but to lean my hands on his desk and think - drop my weight on my arms and think.

The situation was really tricky. The lives of the two elves were in my hands, because they both needed a cure. The life of an entire clan was in my hands, because they needed a solution to the attacks of the wolves. The life of all Ferelden was in my hands, because I didn't think there was any chance to end with the Blight if any of the above requirements failed.

If I failed.

One thing had led to another, and the clock was ticking. In less than six hours the Templar had transformed, and since then, much more had happened. How much time still remained? Hours, minutes? Was the transformation of the redhead happening at that exact moment, while I was too worried in my thinking, instead of running through the forest like a madman, as Zathrian suggested?

I punched the table.

Maker, the Brecilian was huge. It covered what? Fifteen, twenty percent of the entire territory of Ferelden?

Whatever the answer, in practice it was an absurdly large territory. It stretched from eastern Denerim to near Ostagar... How would I find their leader in such a place, in such a short time, knowing that Zathrian had spent centuries searching without any success? How could I succeed where even the great immortal had failed?

Maker, I was sweating like a pig.

While my head was lowered, staring at the floor because my neck was too weak to keep it raised, something caught my attention.

A small box was carelessly thrown on the ground, almost completely hidden under the table. Perhaps it had fallen after the berserker rage of the elf, I cannot say, but the box was open - its belongings scattered around it - and it meant that I'd ended up seeing its contents even unwillingly.

Three items were scattered on the ground: a card deck, a piece of paper, and a brooch.

The paper, which was the first item I returned to the box, had a drawing made by a child. Four colorful and happy elves were in a green field, hand in hand, with smiles on their faces. It was painted many years ago apparently, because the edges were tearing and the ink was turning yellowish.

The brooch was round, silver, wrapped in chrome leaves that had so many freaking details it would make envious the most skilful smiths Orzammar. In the center, a golden griffin, that I dared to say was the symbol of the Grey Wardens.

Finally, I collected the cards scattered on the floor. It was an old deck, of a game full of pomp and complications, as was everything from Orlais. Instead of animals, like ours, the cards had pictures of the great heroes, emperors and empresses from the history of those conceited fops, which were accompanied by letters and numbers**.

While passing the cards through my hands, a small memory crossed my mind. It was not necessary to think for too long to realize that I was cornered, and as I analyzed my alternatives, I positioned the cards on the table.

The little redhead was offside - I set down an ace . She was never necessarily the highest card, but was always present in all key decisions of the group. She always knew how and when to begin and end a fight with mastery, and if she were here, she would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

I sighed. The Templar was also offside - I put down the Jack. I did not like him, and as stupid, moronic and despicable as he was, on the battlefield, he fought like a man. I coudn't deny that his shield would be useful right now.

I pulled a third card from the deck.

Eilleen - it was the queen this time . - She knew the forest better than anyone. Her tracking skills, and her sharpened senses could facilitate my search, and I'm sure it would increase my chances substantially. If there was a good place to look, I'm sure she would know where. But she was also out of the game - with Zathrian keeping her in custody and the plage at her heels, it left me no alternative but to chase a cure... Using time that I didn't have...

I was observing the three cards arranged on the table, side by side, as if they had a solution written somewhere between the ugly scrawls of Orlesian nobles. And it was with some hesitation that I lowered the fourth card.

So, there was me - I placed the King positioned under the Jack - The only card that was still in the game. The only card that could still do something, even if he himself did not know exactly what - I punched the table, lightly ruffling the cards that were at its center - At that time I was the highest card in the deck, because my decisions would affect everyone. My choices would decide the course of the game, and if I failed ... if I delayed myself for even a second... All the three aforementioned players would die from the lack of healing that only I could provide...

Damn Zathrian! - I threw a ten out above the other four cards - The bastard had a Royal Flush in hand, and the next move was mine.

What should I do?

Mahariel slowly entered the tent, still assimilating the information. That she had been betrayed by her own people was unacceptable. They wanted to put chains on her. Chains! For the love of the Creators, who did they think she was? A murderer, a slave?

No. That was unacceptable. How were they able to believe such nonsense?

While anger and disappointment fought largely within her heart, Lanaya just closed the cloth door behind her, watching her friend pacing from one side to the other with the patience of a monk. Just as the moon, Eilleen's internal conflict had phases, which were clearly written on her face with every change of mood - sadness, disappointment, hatred, anger, restlessness, disbelief, denial, outbreaks of sarcasm… Everything then returned to sadness again to restart the cycle, but not necessarily in that order.

It was like her father had always told her, but only now she could truly understand - peacetime was the abode of bliss, but it was in adversity that the truth was hidden.

"Do it," said Mahariel after a while, stopping in front of the First with hands extended forward, and the surprise exploded on Lanaya's face when she followed the Warden's bitersweet look to under one of the beds.

"I will not chain you, Lethalan," Lanaya placed her hands gently on Eilleen's fists, smiling weakly. The Warden slowly lowered her arms while her heart was crumbling inside. "I respect Keeper Zathrian, I really do, but I will not chain my sister as one of their kind."

Eilleen's eyes filled with tears. That Lanaya was standing next to her instead of following Zathrian like his loyal dog, was a surprise. Pleasant, to be honest, like a light of hope at the end of her tunnel of despair.

Chaos revealed the best and the worst in people. Parted allies from enemies, and Lanaya had shown on which side her loyalty was stronger. Unfortunately, knowledge of her loyalty was not enough to make dozens of little disappointments vanish from her chest.

"It'll be okay, you'll see." Lanaya pulled the blonde into a hug, which she accepted without resistence, leaning her head on her shoulder. "I know you are not the one to blame for the wolves. You would never do that, and the Keeper has a good heart ... He'll end up realizing that he was unfair and will take back his word. You will see ..."

Mahariel pulled away at the same time, her mood cycle returning to the stage of anger. She was wrong then - Lanaya hadn't made a choice - she was simply trying to be faithful to both sides, believing in a good part of Zathrian's heart that did not exist.

It was official - she really had no one else to rely on. If even the loyalty of her childhood friend was divided, what was left for her?

"You cannot stay on the fence forever," the blonde said, approaching Kallian's bed. "One day, your blind faith will force you to choose a side, and you cannot escape this choice." She put her hand on the redhead's forehead and could not help the frown when she realized that her friend's skin burned more than the last time she'd checked. "If Zathrian demands my head, will you give it to him on a golden platter, or will you say no and face it head on - and honestly, we both know on which side you will stay."

"My blind faith says I should stick with my beliefs," Lanaya held her gently by the elbow, playing with her healing magic on her arm. "Look, I understand your reasons, but I also understand his. We have been through a lot. You cannot blame him for trying to do what he think is best for our safety. Besides," she touched Eilleen's cheek lightly, passing her finger slowly on the cut, while her magic mended her skin. "You know what humans have done to me, but when you asked, I gave them shelter without question. You have no right to ask me to abandon my beliefs more than I already have."

Mahariel sighed, leaning both hands on the edge of the bed. Of course she knew about Lanaya's past, and her life filled with torture and abuse as a slave of bandits. It was a complicated topic, and the situation was not suitable for a discussion on that subject.

The ideal was to remain focused on the present, accepting everything that she could have.

"How is Kallian?" Eilleen evaded, trying to find the peace with herself to move on, but the one thing her mind didn't have in that moment was calm. However, further discussing this subject with Lanaya would not lead anywhere, and the only way forward was to allow time to bring the answers to her questions.

"The wound, although not yet completely healed, is stable. However ... " Lanaya replied, relieved at the change of subject, yet strangely hesitant. "Her condition progressed much too fast to the point of no return***. Wish I could say that I could do something to help, but my hands are tied."

"Wait, wait... Point of no return?" Mahariel interrupted with more anger than necessary. "Don't discard her already, Lanaya! Don't declare her dead yet. You know very well that while the heart beats, giving up is not an option!"

"You sound like your father," she smiled nostalgically for a brief moment, but it faded soon after. "This disease is stronger and more insidious than anything we've ever seen, Eilleen. I'm not giving up on her, I'm just preparing you for what is likely to happen, sooner or later."

The blonde lowered her head completely, sinking a little further into the pool of despair from which she struggling helplessly to get out. "How much time does she have left?"

"I cannot predict…" Lanaya ran a hand through her hair uncomfortably, sitting on the bed next to Kallian. "If you allow me a rough comparison, I would say is pretty much like the taint's - the infection can turn the individual in a few hours or over several days, as was your case. There is nothing concrete about the behavior patters of the disease - only a lot of assumptions and a very few certainties."

"You can start by explaining to me your few certainties, then." She stood in one quick move. Despite a strong urge to break something, she controlled herself enough to just encircle the bed and sit beside Lanaya. "What is the point of no return?"

"The longer the person resists, the more the body pays," she explained. "Fever, nausea, migraines... They precede transformation and continue to evolve until they reach a point where it can no longer get any worse."

"Hence the name."

"Precisely." Lanaya hesitated again, taking a long breath before continuing. "Once at the point of no return... the patient becomes one of them, or the body simply doesn't resist anymore."

Mahariel just listened to the explanation in silence. The prospects were not encouraging, and whatever the conclusion, Kallian was bound to die one way or another. She herself was walking the same path, with those fresh wounds. And that made her think...

If Aldor was there, would he be able to find a cure? Would he be able to save the Dalish once again?

Eileen had spent a long time in silence before gathering enough courage to ask, "And how much time do you think I have?"

"You?" Lanaya looked surprised, rising quickly. "You've been bitten, too?"

"No, but ..." She looked at her arm, which still tingled from the scratches.

"Only their bite is contagious." She sat down again. "It's the hot saliva injected into the bloodstream that is the problem. Scratches such as yours are not at all a problem. And of that, I am sure."

Then, she was safe. A relief, sure, but even so, it didn't make her feel better. After all, it was as if they had gone back to the beginning of everything, the starting point - handcuffed, under the rule of Uthen'len, with less two companions, with one of them dying. The difference was that now her world was against her, and words like hope, family and fellowship seemed to make no sense anymore.

"I'm really sorry, Lethalan..." Lanaya lamented, watching Eilleen with curiously. The Warden had risen in a hurry, and now was messing with something near the bed of Kallian. "Wait, what are you doing?"

"Loosening the chains." Mahariel replied, bypassing the bed. "If this is really the point of no return for Da'shal, then she will go through this with dignity. I refuse to leave her chained like an animal."

"I understand, Eilleen, but ..."

"She would do the same for me." Mahariel sighed with conviction, though her words were heavy and filled with sadness as she unlocked the last handcuff.

Lanaya did not question further. She realized that her friend was on the verge of tears, her eyes fixed on the elf like this was the last chance she would have to see her face, to say her goodbyes, and it touched her deep into her heart. She had lost several people in that same way, and knew how difficult it was.

To alllow her to make sure that her friend's last moments would be comfortable... It was the least she could do. She owed it to Eilleen.

"I'll be outside if you need anything." She put a friendly hand on Mahariel's shoulder before leaving the tent. Acording to her judgement, she needed this time alone. "And, Eilleen... I would never give your head to anyone, not even to the Creators."

Just as Lanaya put her foot out, Eilleen began to cry over Kallian's bed, transforming every disappointment, every little heartbreak and betrayal in tears, which soon drenched the sheets.

Notes:

Nae'ros ara vir, Nae tu abelas - If you stay in my way, you will regret it.

Din ar'dala na shem'el - Not If I kill you first.

Annalas - Centuries.

Fen'ghi - Wolf beasts.

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*Royal Straight Flush is the most valuable card hand on poker - 10, Jack, Queen, King and Ace, of the same suit.

** Since the traditional cards had those noble figures drawned on them, and considering that everything from Orlais is fancy in some way, I thought that this comparison would fit. It's not part of the DA canon, just a small adaptation of my own :)

*** Point of no return is how some authors define the cessation of ability of something to evolve, professionaly speaking. It's the critical point where the person or enterprise chose either to resist the changes around it or embrace the new reality and adapt itself to it, renewing its life cycle. After crossing the line, it can hardly recover. The same concept applies to biology, where crossing the point of no return ends up in the death of the cells.

****Zathrian lived for "many centuries". Since no number was officially given, I just did some adjustments to fit my plot. There's nothing linking Zathrian and Gaharel together, at least not that I know. Again, it's not part of the DA canon.