Chapter Text
The Brecilian Forest was gorgeous. Honestly. It boasted ancient trees and crystal blue, winding brooks. Beautiful wild flowers blossomed, filling the air with intoxicatingly pleasant fragrances. It was really a very, very…pretty place. Will kept telling himself that, but it was a little hard to appreciate when there was a giant bear chasing him.
“Run faster, run faster!” Will yelled. He was right on Hannibal’s heels, and Katz was right behind him. The forest path was too narrow to run side by side, and the bear was charging them relentlessly. He couldn’t even see Alana, and was afraid of turning his head to seek her out. If he tripped, they’d all probably tumble on top of each other in a tangle of giant bear food.
He could hear the low, menacing growl, and the heavy thuds of gargantuan paws as the bear continued gaining ground behind them. Will’s hand reached out, shoving against the templar only inches ahead. Katz was practically stepping over him in her effort to make room between herself and the bear. Will could picture its face. Its huge head and gnashing teeth. Creatures that size should NOT be allowed to move so fast. It wasn’t fair.
They had only just entered the forest and, exhausted from an entire day’s walk, had stopped on the side of a grassy slope to rest. Hannibal had handed Will the water canteen, watching him closely as he drank. Will tried not to roll his eyes and ignored the staring, but then he’d caught the obscene gesture Katz was making behind Hannibal’s back and started choking. Hannibal had been patting Will’s back worriedly while Alana and Katz giggled conspicuously, and that was when they heard it. An awful, ripping roar that sounded like it was way too close. Will had clutched his staff and stood up so quickly that he’d nearly knocked Hannibal in the chin, but the apology coming out of his mouth was swiftly forgotten when the bear stepped out from the shadow of trees and growled, low and petrifying. There were so many high-pitched verbal reactions following that moment that Will couldn’t pinpoint which was his, only that he certainly yelled and jumped at least a foot into the air before Hannibal grabbed Will’s arm and hauled them from the slope. Will had moved mindlessly behind him, allowing himself to be half-dragged down the narrow forest path. And now they were running, the bear following suit.
Usually, Will thought as he ran as fast as he could and hoped that would be fast enough, one would veer to the side when escaping a predator, not run in a single file line. But the slope they’d stopped on continued to slope as they ran, rising swiftly on both sides of the path, and soon after they’d begun their ill-fated getaway, they were trapped, doomed to remain on the narrow road. It would take too much time to climb up the slopes, and the bear was too close. It roared again, and Will’s pathetic life flashed before his eyes. He hadn’t thought in his wildest dreams he would die, torn to shreds by a big bear, but at least, he reasoned with a morbid glimmer of optimism, he wasn’t Tranquil.
“Will?” Hannibal yelled back at him, and Will wondered how the templar’s voice still managed to sound considerably casual. He would have to remember to scowl disapprovingly at him later. “There’s a bridge up ahead. Follow my lead.”
Will huffed and puffed his response, then yelled something indiscernible to Katz over his shoulder. She sputtered a breathless response, and he hoped she understood. He didn’t really understand, but he trusted Hannibal, his mind flying automatically to deep black eyes and curving antlers. When his feet hit wooden planks, and Hannibal grabbed him by the waist, he didn’t fight it. He might have screamed again though, not because Hannibal was manhandling him so roughly his fingertips would bruise his ribs, but because right in front of them, on the other side of the bridge, was a second great bear. And Hannibal, who had now grabbed hold of Katz’s wrist as well, was pulling them straight for it.
A bear at his back and a bear just ahead. Will’s mind was fogged with fear, so he let the templar take control, and only when they were close enough to the second bear to glimpse the flash of its blue eyes, did Will relax an iota. The blue-eyed bear let them pass, and Will was pressed against is furry side as Hannibal pushed him by, and then they were standing on the opposite side of the bridge, finally in a clearing with some breathing room and no high slopes to trap them.
Hannibal released him, and Katz had already pulled away and unsheathed her sword and was leveling it towards the bears. Apparently she hadn’t noticed the blue eyes. But Will had, and he watched, his staff tight in his hand, as Alana stared down the approaching bear. It stopped a foot in front of her, tilting its big head and sniffing curiously. Alana stood up on her haunches and swiped with a long-clawed paw, slicing across the other bear’s nose. It howled and staggered backward. Then it lowered its head, growling.
Will watched, mesmerized, as Bear-Alana’s fur spiked up on the back of her neck, and she ducked her head, raising it slowly, her mouth widening to boast a fearsome set of teeth, and then roared into the face of the other bear. Beside him, Katz was slowly stepping forward, her sword still raised. Will reached out a hand and softly touched her shoulder. She whipped her head around, her short hair swishing.
“It’s Alana,” Will whispered to Katz, with a head nod toward the bear closest to them standing on its hind legs.
Katz’s eyes grew comically massive and she looked back at the bear, her sword slowly lowering. “I thought she’d abandoned us,” she said, not to Will directly, but to herself. Then she took a step back. And they all watched.
Bear-Alana was winning the stare down, and the mighty swipes of her powerful paws only helped seal her victory, until, finally backed up to the other side of the bridge, the opposing bear growled angrily and turned back. Will watched, stunned, as it trotted off down the narrow path, and then he could see it no more. Meanwhile, the second bear had turned back to face them, and took a few steps closer as her body began to change. Thick swaths of dark fur grew into long waves while the rest of it receded into creamy white skin. Her body shrank considerably, and her waist widdled down into a defined narrowness that Will had to blink to look away from. And then Alana, Witch of the Wilds, was presented before them, looking a bit worn, but beautiful. She stuck her hands on her hips and smiled.
Hannibal moved first, stepping up to her with a respectful lean of his head. “Amazing, Alana.” The templar looked over his shoulder at Will and Katz with a happy, amused glint in his eye, then turned back to the apostate. “We owe our lives to your quick wit and exceptional powers of transfiguration.”
Will recognized the expression on Alana’s face, because it was one he was far too familiar with in respects to Hannibal. It was the look of trying one’s hardest not to roll their eyes at the chivalrous templar. But she managed to refrain, and instead gave him a tiny bow of thanks in return. But when she looked past Hannibal to Katz, her smile faltered instantly. “You thought I had abandoned you?”
Will looked between them, amazed –and more than a tiny bit gratified – to see a blush creeping across Katz’s face. She clumsily sheathed her sword, her shoulders shrugged high. “Yeah,” she admitted, the shame evident in her tone. “Sorry.”
Alana seemed to consider the apology for a moment, and then she laughed halfheartedly. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Blind trust leads to little more than disaster.” Will didn’t like how her eyes had landed on him as she’d spoken those words, and he glowered darkly, feeling oddly rebellious in the face of her opinion. Hannibal returned to his side and was busy straightening his heavy templar armor, as it had fallen into disarray in their scramble from the bear. He didn’t seem to hear – or was pointedly ignoring – what Alana had said.
Will ran a hand through his hair, trying to urge it back from sweeping over his eyes. “One might argue that trust is all we have at this point,” he said, not looking at Alana, but at his increasingly fascinating boot laces. “Alana, how many animals can you shapeshift into?”
She smoothed her hair down, unruffled by Will’s moderate level of sass. “Lots,” was her answer. It made him smile, and she returned it with a dimpled cheek.
“Can you teach me?” Will asked, the idea suddenly striking him as the best he’d ever had. He couldn’t distance his imagination from the perfect thought of spreading his wings and flying away from everything and everyone.
But Alana didn’t give him the answer he wanted, an immediate yes. Instead, she crossed her arms and looked him up and down with a languid pace that had him shifting uncomfortably. “Maybe,” she said at last.
Will breathed in to speak again, but Hannibal stepped between them, his purposeful interruption all too blatant. “Perhaps this discussion would be better executed with fewer threats in our near vicinity.” He quirked an eyebrow at Alana. “Surely that was not the only great bear in the Brecilian Forest.”
“I second the templar,” Katz said, angling up beside Hannibal and nudging his shoulder with a playfulness Will hadn’t realized the two of them had reached with one another yet. Judging by the twitch of Hannibal’s eye at the contact, he hadn’t realized it either. “It’s late, and it’s going to be dark in this forest in no time. We need to make camp, like, ten minutes ago.”
Will suggested they vacate the area where they’d last been tracked by the bear, and they agreed, heading onward. They had only been walking fifteen minutes when Hannibal led them up a hill where a surprisingly cozy little space was cleared out between a circle of trees. Unbelievably, there was already a fire pit at its center.
“That’s lucky,” Katz said. “And weird, right?”
Hannibal knelt down beside the pit, which looked to be in its last stages of smoldering. “It appears travelers recently abandoned this very spot.” He looked up at his companions and then around the oddly ideal circle they inhabited. “I have to admit, it is the perfect place to set up camp. We have the upper ground and are protected by the cover of trees.”
“The grass is so soft,” Katz said, leaning down to join Hannibal by the fire. “Will, you can get this going, right?”
“Sure,” he answered, bending down to wave a hand over the embers. With ease, he had a fire setting a glow within the circle, filling it with welcoming warmth. In fact, Will noticed, as he felt an overwhelming urge to close his eyes, there seemed to be warmth spilling all through his body. He felt amazing, actually. And incredibly tired. He needed to lie down, and his eyes fell over the place on the ground beside Hannibal, where he wanted to fall sleep. Alana was already lying down. When had that happened?
“Will,” Hannibal said, his voice thick with sleepiness, “come and rest.”
Will sighed deeply and was about to bend his knees and join the others on the ground where their eyes were closing and they were beginning to breathe deep, but then he stopped. Why were they so tired they didn’t even set up their bedrolls? Or eat? Or set a watch schedule? “Wait,” Will mumbled, feeling groggy. “Something’s wrong.”
“That’s right, my love,” he heard a familiar voice whisper behind him, and Will spun around. That had been the demon speaking. He knew that voice. “You are too strong to be fooled so easily, aren’t you?”
Will blinked hard against his sleepy confusion. That was definitely the demon talking to him, but Will didn’t see it. And he was so tired. Was he asleep? This was wrong. He looked about him anxiously. His friends were fast asleep, and he examined them with a frown.
“Look,” the demon whispered in his head. “See.”
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted, almost imperceptibly, but Will saw. In a flash, the circle…shifted. His friends weren’t lying on a soft bed of grass anymore, but a scattering of human bones. Where there had been a fire, the pit was abruptly dead and blackened. Will staggered back in surprise.
“It’s a trap!” he yelled. Adrenaline ran haywire through his veins and he toed at his companions with urgency. “Wake up, wake up!” But they didn’t move. They were completely out of it. Will groaned, running a hand over his face. What was going on? If there was a trap, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, something had set it.
He heard a rustling in the trees surrounding the circle and gripped his staff. “It is a Greater Shade, sweet boy. Strike it down,” Will’s demon instructed, its voice clear and soothing in his head. Will was certainly awake now, at least, awake enough to notice the monster as it glided into the circle.
Will had studied the Fade extensively, as well as the myriad of its terrifying inhabitants, one of which was a Shade. Their illustrations in the tomes had been horrid enough, but the creature gliding toward him was even worse, because it was real. And it was much larger than it had been depicted. A Greater Shade. Will gulped and had to actively work not to step backward. He grounded his feet and remained right in front of his unconscious companions, his staff held aloft, his mana beginning to focus.
The Shade floated on furling ribbons of mist, looming in a cloak of darkness. Its head bent forward on big shoulders and a crooked neck, and its arms were disturbingly long, with curling claws for fingers. Its head was hooded and Will could not see its face, and for that he was thankful, because it was ugly and horrible and an actual creature of nightmares and it was headed straight for Will. He filtered his magic through his staff, eyes fluttering from the effort.
Hunched and horrifying, the Shade’s arms lashed out, almost successfully knocking the staff from Will’s hand. But he held on tight, and used its strong blow to power his staff, letting it swirl through the air above his head before ramming it downward. A line of fire ran from Will’s staff to the mist around the Greater Shade’s cloaked legs, and it hissed in annoyance, rising back, lifting its freakishly long arms. When it lashed out again, Will was ready, and he ducked the blow, rolling his body and popping up directly behind the Shade. It hissed again and Will slammed the blunt end of his staff into the back of its head as hard as he could, then jumped back and sent a fiery blast toward it, hitting directly in the center of its back. It howled and spun to face its assailant. This time, when it slashed an arm at Will, the end of its claw caught on Will’s cheek. It was only a graze, but the shock of the contact gave the Shade the opportunity it needed. It rushed him, swooping its long arms and slashing across Will’s chest, throwing him back against a tree, his shirt clawed open.
Will groaned and shook his head. He could feel blood oozing down his cheek and across his chest. He looked at the Greater Shade drawing nearer and felt the dreaded pang of doubt. It was stronger than him. It would kill him. And then it would kill his friends. The Shade swiped at him once more, and Will just barely escaped its blow. He sent a hot blast of flame toward its middle, pulling another hiss from the angering Shade, and then Will returned to his initial positioning, at the center of the circle, protectively stationed beside his helpless comrades. Why hadn’t Will fallen asleep as they had? Why was he the only one unaffected?
With a tiny gasp, Will realized. Greater Shades dwelled in the Fade. Its magic had pulled the others in, but Will was a Dreamer. He had power in the Fade the others didn’t. That was why he could hear his demon and not see it. Will was effectively straddling the line between the Fade and the waking world. And if he had the strength to combat the Shade’s sleeping spell, he had the strength to control the outcome of this fight. With a grin, Will closed his eyes and slammed down his staff. A six foot wall of fire blasted from the ground beneath the Fade, effectively engulfing it. It swiped at Will again, but its aim wasn’t true, and it missed Will entirely. But Will didn’t take the moment for granted. Without pause, he aimed his staff straight at the Shade’s shadowy face and let his mana empty hot through his body and through the cherry wood. A steady stream of fire barreled forth, and the Shade writhed in pain, backing away. Will followed it, step for step, relentlessly pummeling it with the firespell.
Will’s strength was beginning to wane and his brow was creased with effort, but he kept walking the Shade back, back, until it was passing through the tree line. “Finish it, my beautiful boy,” he heard whispered in the back of his mind, and with a cry of strain, Will hit the Greater Shade with all of his mana, and it screamed. Its arms waved manically over its head and the mist at its feet billowed up, cloaking the Shade until it disappeared from sight. Will watched breathlessly, waiting. The dark mist lingered in the air for a few moments and then steadily dissipated until there was nothing left.
The atmosphere flashed again, shifting the campsite from the Fade’s clutches, and when Will heard the sounds of the others rousing, he finally allowed himself a respite. He dropped his staff and collapsed to his knees. It wasn’t long before he felt hands cupping his face. Will looked up through his eyelashes. Hannibal was kneeling in front of him, his pale eyebrows pinched together with worry.
“Will, what happened?” he asked. He lightly smoothed his thumb over Will’s cheek, and Will winced. When Hannibal brought his hand away, it was splotched with blood. “You’re injured.”
“That blighted Shade lured us all into a trap,” Will grumbled, sighing tiredly and allowing the templar to lift him from the ground. Even after he was standing, Hannibal kept his hands on Will, minute sounds of disapproval escaping his lips as he examined the cuts across Will’s chest, and his torn shirt.
“A Shade’s trap?” Alana asked, sounding insulted. “I should have realized.”
Katz was shaking her head, combing through her hair with both hands, looking thoroughly disturbed. “What’s a Shade?”
Will pulled in a deep breath, not looking forward to having to explain. He was immensely drained, having used the whole of his mana to defeat the blasted creature. But to his relief, the templar responded before Will could, eyes remaining on Will as he searched around in the pack Katz had handed him. He pulled out a strip of gauze and dabbed it along Will’s cheek. “A Shade is a menace from the Fade with great power.” He frowned as he examined the cut on Will’s face, reaching for a bandage. “A Greater Shade is immeasurably stronger.” He demanded Will’s eyes now, gently placing the bandage over Will’s cheek. “I believe young Will saved all of our lives.”
He was aware of the heat rising to his cheeks as the templar admonished him with compliments, but he was still too dazed to care. Will let Hannibal smooth his hands over his shoulders as he checked for further injury, before moving to his chest to assess the cuts striping it.
“Will, how did you not fall asleep?” Alana asked.
“He is a Dreamer,” Hannibal answered for him again, clicking his tongue contemptuously at Will’s chest wound, shallow as it was. “Harder to hoodwink. Fortunately for us.” Will narrowed his eyes at the man tending him and was met with an honest-to-Maker wink.
“You’re a Dreamer?” Alana stared at Will over Hannibal’s shoulder, and Will met her gaze with a surge of confidence.
“Yes.”
She hummed approvingly. “Not just a pretty face, then.” She and Katz grinned at each other deviously and, Maker, help him, would Will ever be able to stop blushing?
Hannibal pressed the pad of gauze to the cuts on his chest, maybe a bit harder than was necessary, pulling Will’s attention back to him. For a moment, Will expected him to speak, to say something embarrassing or deliver him more praise, but he only looked, a curious expression softening his features. Will tried to meet his stare, but it felt too heavy, and he had to duck his head. He watched Hannibal’s elegant fingers nimbly cleaning his cuts and covering them with fresh bandages. Then those careful fingers, warm against Will’s exposed flesh, glided up to feel beneath his shirt, checking the bandage over his shoulder. “How does it feel?” Hannibal asked quietly, and it felt for all the world to Will as if they were the only two souls in the entire forest.
He shook the feeling from his shoulders with a shudder and tried to accurately gauge his healing arrow wound. “It feels okay,” he answered honestly. In truth, he’d hardly noticed it during their day-long journey.
“Of course it feels okay. I healed it,” Alana said smoothly, and Will recalled that the forest was not as secluded as he’d momentarily ascertained it to be. He stepped away from Hannibal, coughing awkwardly to mask the sudden silence.
“I’m fine,” he said to no one in particular. “We’re all fine. We successfully survived our first day of travel together.”
“I am feeling very positive about it,” Katz added, voice dripping with good humored sarcasm. “And exhausted.”
But they couldn’t sleep in that camp any more than they could have slept in the clearing the bear had chased them into. Will wondered hopelessly if there was any safe place in the Brecilian Forest where they could get some rest. After Will had been coaxed by Hannibal into taking one of his spare shirts, they gathered themselves and started looking for a suitable camp that was not a trap.
It was dark at that point, and Will clung stupidly to Hannibal’s offered elbow, glad that at least one of them seemed able to see in the dim dusk light. They trudged along in the dark, searching for a decent clearing, and Will’s heart was finally returning to a regular beat, and he was beginning to accept the eerie beauty of their surroundings, how lovely the foliage appeared, bathed in the highlights of the moon, when, once again, he was brutally reminded that no, the Brecilian Forest was the absolute worst.
A rumble sounded behind them, followed by the snapping of several twigs. Katz barely had time to curse crudely before the beast tore out of the “lovely foliage,” its yellow eyes glowing supernaturally.
“Is that a--” Will began, Hannibal’s hand already gripping his wrist and pulling him back. The creature was eight feet tall and covered in fur, with the head of a wolf. But it was humanoid.
“Did I mention this forest is rumored to have a werewolf problem?” Alana asked, reaching to free her thorny tipped staff from her back.
“Rumored?!” Katz asked wildly as she unsheathed her broadsword. Hannibal’s weapon was drawn, too, and he maintained his protective stance in front of Will, who didn’t mind in the slightest; he was still zapped of mana from the Greater Shade, and injured. He didn’t especially want to fight a werewolf at that exact moment in time. Or ever.
The beast threw back its head and howled, beating at its chest with its forepaws, which were gruesomely clawed. Why did everything in Ferelden have to come equipped with claws? Will was in the middle of seriously questioning his life choices and wondering what the odds were in a battle to the death between his companions and a bloody werewolf, when something unexpected happened.
As the werewolf moved forward, snapping its jaw, something whooshed by Will’s ear, and then, all of a sudden, there was an arrow sticking the beast right between the eyes. It panted, whimpered, and fell to the ground, twitching a few times and then freezing solidly in death. Will’s hand flew to the side of his head where he’d felt the arrow pass him, so close he’d felt the feathers. There, standing behind them, leaning on a longbow with an unattractive smirk, was an elf. Two elves. One stood beside the other, holding a torch and looking equally unhappy to see them.
“What are four shemlens doing in Dalish territory?” asked the elf with the bow. In the torchlight, Will could see the tattoos covering both their faces, intricate inked patterns of what looked like a tree, its swirling roots spreading beneath each eye, its branches winding together across the forehead. Will had read a bit about the Dalish in the tower, but they were a notoriously secretive race. All he really knew was that Dalish elves had an intense dislike for humans. That was painfully obvious now, as the Dalish with the bow looked one second away from knocking a new arrow and pointing it right at him.
“Relax, guys,” Katz said. “We’re Grey Wardens. We were actually looking for you.” She glanced at the dead werewolf behind her. “Thanks for the extra manpower, by the way. Or, erm, elfpower.”
The torch-holder scowled, screwing up her face with obvious disdain. “You don’t look like Grey Wardens,” she spat.
Will bit his lip nervously, but when he looked at Katz, she was as airy and indifferent to the elf’s bluster as could be. “Why don’t you let your Keeper decide that after you’ve taken us to your camp? Or do you want to risk disobeying our treaty?”
The Dalish turned away from them and spoke to each other in a language Will couldn’t even begin to try and follow. The rest of them waited patiently. Will shuffled back and forth on his feet, trying to focus on the subtle heat from Hannibal at his back instead of the icy foreboding in his stomach. Finally, after a rude stretch of non-inclusive discussion, the elves turned back to their annoyances.
“Alright, shems, we’ll take you to see the Keeper, but one false move and you’re all dead. Got it?”
“That’s so generous,” Katz deadpanned. “Please, take us to your leader.” She grimaced, and rolled her eyes at Will. “Couple of sweethearts, huh?”
A strangled laugh/choke bubbled out of Will’s throat and the Dalish glared daggers at him. “Keep up, shems,” one of them said, and they led them through the forest. But for once, good luck was with them, because the Dalish camp wasn’t far, and after only a short walk of ten or so minutes, the elves were stopping to push apart some branches. They waved Will and the others through.
Will stepped into the Dalish camp. It was quite large, in a prime position beside a river. Dozens of canvas wagons were set up, as well as several large campfires. There was even a fenced in section with Halla grazing within, majestic creatures that Will had only read about. They looked like something between a deer and a horse, and their hides almost glowed in the darkness. He was busy staring at them with a silly grin on his face when their reluctant Dalish guides scoffed loudly to attract his attention.
“We’re going to get the Keeper,” the woman elf said. “Move and die.”
As she stepped away, four more elves appeared with their bows drawn and aimed. Will felt Hannibal stiffen with tension at his side, and he felt a bizarre compulsion to reach out and take his hand, but that would be movement, wouldn’t it? And he was incredibly wary of those arrows, so he swallowed his urge and waited. Before long, the Dalish reappeared with a slightly taller than average elf walking with them. He was dark of skin, with beautiful almond eyes and a peculiar air of graceful authority.
“I am Keeper Tobias,” he said. His voice was deep and pleasant, but it also fixed Will with a chill of apprehension. Katz, however, was unaffected as she stepped forward, the treaties rolled up in her hand. Keeper Tobias accepted the scroll with a tight smile and unrolled them with quick fingers. Will watched the Keeper’s eyes moving down the paper. When he was finished, he re-rolled the scroll and passed it back to Katz with a respectful bow. “Welcome, Wardens.”
Will sighed his relief, blissful that, for now, they weren’t in danger of being killed. After an impossibly long day, they were safe. He eyed the other Dalish, still defiantly staring at them from behind their Keeper’s back. Well, he amended, they were mostly safe. Probably. Safe-ish, and that was good enough.
The Keeper smiled and motioned with his hand for them to follow. Will let Hannibal guide him, his large palm a calming force at the small of his back, and they were led to the largest of the fire pits, on the far side of the camp, closest to the river. Keeper Tobias waved for them to sit as he took his own place upon a log. Will helped himself to a seat beside the fire, sticking out his hands to warm them. Hannibal sat down beside him. On a second log, Katz sat with Alana, still wearing her best ‘Warden Face,’ which Will was marginally envious of and would ask her about later. It involved a straight yet relaxed mouth and a confident glint of the eye.
“You’re here because of the Blight,” Keeper Tobias began, his hands resting in his lap. He wore robes not dissimilar to the ones Will was used to wearing (though he’d been infinitely glad to be rid of them this past day and hadn’t tripped once), but the Keeper’s were made of a much richer material. It shimmered in the firelight and looked velvety soft. It was blue. Leaning beside him on the log was a magic staff that looked to be carved from ivory, with twining ends that clasped within its hold a sapphire gem. It was exceptional.
“You know about the Blight?” Katz asked, leaning forward, her elbows balanced on her knees.
“Our clan has lived in this forest for a long time,” the Keeper said. “We notice every change. Our hunters are used to the occasional, wandering darkspawn that has escaped from the Deep Roads. But lately, there have been more and more reports. Even the sylvans have been mistrustful.” Will squinted at that unfamiliar term, but the Keeper kept on. “And now, with the arrival of Grey Wardens, the only conclusion is a Blight. Or the imminent threat of one.” He arched a brow. “Am I right?”
“Spot on,” Katz said.
“It is safe to assume, then, that you are here to attain our help in the coming fight.”
“You’re bound by the treaty to aid us in our time of need,” she agreed. “Help from the Dalish would be invaluable.”
“And I would like to offer our help,” said the Keeper, “but there are hindrances.”
“What’s the problem?” asked Katz, looking as put-out as Will felt.
“To put it plainly, a sickness.” The Keeper stared into the flickering firelight. The more Will observed the elf, the less he liked him. There was a blankness in his eyes that made him itch beneath his skin. “My hunters saved you from a werewolf, did they not?”
Katz straightened her back. “I don’t know if I would put it that way, but they certainly intervened at a convenient time.”
“Those werewolves are a plague on this forest, sent by their leader, Witherfang, to slowly infect my clan. So you see, I cannot help you with this infection running rampant through the camp.”
Astounding even himself, Will spoke up. “That werewolf used to be an elf?”
The Keeper looked from the flames and flashed his absent, shiny eyes at Will. The accompanying tilt of his head was disconcerting. “Yes. We are cursed, and one by one, we fall to the sickness.”
“Can the curse be broken?” Will continued, feeling all eyes on him now.
The Keeper considered Will for a moment, his long lashes batting and casting long shadows over his face. “All curses can be broken.”
“If we break this curse, will you fulfill your oath of the treaty and help us fight the Blight when the time comes?” Will wasn’t sure where this forcefulness was originating from, but he allowed it full reign. He wasn’t going to let the Dalish weasel out of a signed agreement because of a curse.
Keeper Tobias laughed, and Will frowned at the display. He caught a glance of the templar at his side, and wasn’t surprised to catch him staring, a curious expression painting his face. Will furrowed his brow in resolution and turned back to the Keeper.
“Well? If all curses can be broken, how do we break this one?” he prompted, losing patience.
“If it was so simple, do you not think I would have already done it?” the Keeper asked.
“I don’t know you, and I don’t know what you’re capable of,” Will said. “But my friends and I can break your curse with the agreement of your aid. So tell us how to do it.”
The mirth of Keeper Tobias’ laughter morphed into disgust. “I need the heart of the first werewolf, Witherfang, to break the curse. Witherfang’s lair is deep in the center of the forest, beneath ancient ruins, guarded by the werewolf horde. Go into the ruins, kill Witherfang, and bring me the heart.” He smiled, striking Will with a tide of nausea. “And when the clan’s curse is broken, you will have our aid.”
Will stole glances at his comrades, and then returned his eyes to Keeper Tobias with his steeliest gaze. “Simple.” Will stood, Hannibal standing up in his wake, followed swiftly by Alana and Katz. “Give us shelter tonight, and we’ll bring you Witherfang’s heart tomorrow.”
Keeper Tobias stood, taking his time smoothing the folds of his rich robes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a touch of the Dalish in you. What’s your name, boy?”
“Will Graham. And I’m a Grey Warden, not a boy.”
“Of course,” the Keeper said with another unnerving smile. “Help yourselves to supplies and sleep wherever you like. We will speak again in the morning.” He bowed his head. “Grey Wardens,” he said by way of goodbye, and then he sauntered across the camp, disappearing with a few Dalish hunters into a canvas wagon.
There was a noisy silence behind him, and Will turned slowly to face it. Katz was gaping at him. Alana was smirking, a hand on her hip. And Hannibal looked…entirely too pleased. Will addressed Katz first. “Sorry, I sort of took over there.”
“Oh, no,” Katz said, vehemently shaking her head, making her thick crop of hair swing against her chin. “Don’t apologize. I liked it. With the voice and the face. All good. Please keep doing that.”
Will scrunched his eyebrows. What voice? What face? He glanced at the templar for help, but Hannibal was still smiling strangely at him, so he looked at Alana. “So this is okay with all of you? The plan?”
Alana’s blue eyes pierced him utterly, but when she spoke, her voice was easy and smooth. “I wouldn’t necessarily call what you proposed ‘a plan’. But if we want help from the Dalish, it’s the only way. I’m behind you, Will.”
“So am I,” agreed Katz. “Werewolves can’t be that much harder to kill than darkspawn, right?” She looked around at Alana with shrugged shoulders. “Right?”
Alana sighed and shook her head, and Will startled when he felt Hannibal’s light touch fall across his arm. “You know I am with you,” he said, but then he closed his fingers over Will’s elbow and his face grew serious and his voice dipped to a lower register. Will tried to ignore the knots swiftly forming in his chest at the sound. “I do not trust this Keeper Tobias, Will,” he confided solemnly. Katz and Alana, having moved closer, nodded their agreement, Katz adding a cut about ‘creepy staring.’
Will checked around them, and when he saw no lurking Dalish listening in, he murmured in a voice matching Hannibal’s in depth, “There’s something off about the Keeper. I don’t trust him either. But we still need his help.”
“Then we will head to the ruins at dawn,” Hannibal said, “and remain particularly vigilant.” He squeezed Will’s elbow and broke into a slim, closed-mouthed grin. “But for now we should rest. Despite our suspicious host, this may be the closest thing to safe shelter we’re destined to encounter for quite a while.” When Katz and Alana turned away and began unpacking their bedrolls about the fire, Hannibal remained close to Will, and his hand lightly grazed the bandaged cut across his cheek. “Sleep will do us all some good, don’t you think?”