Neira approached the shattered chest, frowning. Stretching out one hand, she half-closed her eyes and felt for the magical wards Dunilkan said would be here - but nothing. She crouched, sifting through the wreck, but no evidence of any parchment remain.

"What have we here? Intruders in these Wilds of mine? Or scavengers, perhaps, come to pick at bones none have disturbed in ages." Neira heard the men go on guard as she stood and turned.

The young Warden who accompanied them, the fair-haired allan'isa, warned, "She is a sorceress; I can feel it. Be on your guards, all of you."

"A sorceress? Perhaps I am," the dark-haired human woman admitted as she sauntered toward them, apparently unconcerned for their weapons. "But what are you, mm? Intruder or scavenger? Speak!"

"Scavenger I be," Neira replied, showing teeth, "the wolf, Fen-Harel. And if you are wise, you will leave me to my meat."

"But there is no meat, just wind-swept bones," the sorceress shrugged, circling them. "You seek the Grey Warden treaties that were once in that chest?"

"You know of them?" the allan'isa asked. "Then where are they now? Did you take them to feather your nest, pretty magpie?"

She smiled coldly at him and smoothed the feathered ornament she wore. "I did not. My mother has them."

"Another Chasind witch, to be sure," Dalim, the scrawny cutpurse, shivered.

"There's nothing for it," grunted the heavyset Emerald Knight. "Dunilkan requires the treaties."

Neira paced slowly before the human, testing magic against magic; the sorceress watched her with flat yellow eyes, expecting a challenge. The allan'isa stepped between them, though, violet arcane light pulsing through the lyrium-infused swirling markings trailing down his face and arms. "My dear magi, this is hardly the time or place for what would surely be a most impressive duel." The yellow-eyed witch curled her lip, staring at the arcane designs, but he bowed gallantly to her anyway. "I am Zevran, dear woman, and I humbly request that you take us to see your mother."

"I can hardly consider it a humble request coming from such a one as you, allan'isa," the sorceress spat. "Is that a threat?"

He sighed and the violet light faded. "It would merely be a waste of the highest degree if you and Warden Neira were to injure each other. I was attempting to preventa fight, not start one."

"Hmph." She seemed utterly unconvinced. "Keep your magics to yourself, and you may yet succeed in that. Come, this way," she beckoned suddenly, disappearing into the brush.

Neira awoke with a groan. What had happened? She blinked her eyes blearily - and sat bolt upright when she saw Morrigan, the daughter of the Asha'bellanar, standing there. "What... where..."

"You are in our home," the apprentice witch explained. "My mother rescued you and your friend from the battle, brought you here, and healed your wounds... which were grievous."

"The battle!" Neira suddenly remembered; they had been tasked with lighting a signal beacon atop the Tower of Andruil in the Korcari Fortress. Only the darkspawn had come up from below, attacking behind their lines... "How went the battle?"

The human lowered her eyes. "A massacre," she said quietly. "The general who was to come to your aid... quit the field. Your warleader and the others... all have perished."

"You said Zevran was here?" she asked, getting out of the bed and casting about for her robes.

Morrigan nodded and indicated a chest which, she found, held her possessions. "He is outside, with Mother. He is... not taking it well. And she would speak with you."

"Very well," Neira said, shrugging the garment on. "I wish to thank her. And you."

"You... are welcome," Morrigan said uncertainly. She nodded toward the door. "I will remain here, to prepare some supper." Neira nodded in return and pushed it open.

Zevran was seated on a rough bench outside, staring blindly into the marsh. He turned automatically at the sound of the door opening, and rose when he saw who it was approaching. "Mythal's mercy," he said, "you're alive. I was not sure if I should hope - "

"I told you she was alive, didn't I, boy?" the Asha'bellanar snapped.

"Ma serrannas," Neira said to her, bowing deeply. "Morrigan told me we have you to thank for our lives."

"Indeed you do," the Asha'bellanar cackled. "And it remains to be seen what you will do with them."

The human Devoted sang soft hymns to June and Andruil as she carefully trimmed goose feathers down into fletchings for their arrows. Neira watched for a few moments, then said, "Your work is skilled."

"Oh, no" Leliana demurred. "I was only in the temple for a few years; I am new to the Craft. The acolytes, they would have had a dozen shafts perfectly finished and ready for blessing by the time I had completed one. But it is kind of you to say so."

Neira shifted her weight nervously. "About your vision..."

"Yes. I knew you would ask, sooner or later." Leliana set the feather and penknife aside. "One night, about a month ago, I had a dream... or a nightmare. I was atop a high tower, overlooking the entire Brecilian Forest as a hideous darkness came creeping forward. The ravens Fear and Deceit buffeted me with their wings. I tried to shield myself from them, and called on Dirthamen to protect me from them, but they kept trying to pluck out my eyes! And as the darkness drew near, swallowing up the great city that surrounded my tower, I lost my balance under the ravens' assault and fell."

Neira frowned, looking into those eager blue eyes. "I beg your pardon, Devoted, but what has this dream to do with the Grey Wardens?"

"The next morning, when I rose and went out into the courtyard to greet the sun, I nearly tripped over two dead ravens in my path. Dirthamen protected me after all, and I believe that he wants me to help you find the secrets that will stop this Blight."

Neira was not inclined to believe such mysticism, but in such matters it was better to be safe than sorry. Devoted Leliana had many useful talents, whether she was sent by a god or no, so for the time being... "I am... glad to have your help," Neira said, stiffly enough that Leliana's face fell a little.

The first treaty was with the Avvar hill people who dwelled in the Ice Mountains. The Avvar were an impermanent folk, resettling as wind and weather changed in the fickle mountains. But despite the difficulties caused by the bounty Zathrian had placed on their heads, the Wardens had found a lead to a tribal settlement.

As they trudged up the narrow path in shin-deep snow, an odd sound uphill caught their attention. "Rockslide!" Zevran shouted in warning, and they all flung themselves desperately up the path. A river of stones and boulders came crashing down behind them and they paused, panting for breath - as Avvar archers suddenly appeared from behind the pine trees, and the howls of their wolf-hounds echoed down the pass.

Four humans burst up from the snow itself, howling as madly as the wolves. "For the honor of the Avvar!" shouted the largest, a hulking brute clad in animal skins and a horned helmet. "Kill the invaders!"

"I would not have thought that an elf would show such concern for a man," Morrigan snipped. "The others are all dead; why not kill this one as well?"

"Not all the others," the Devoted said. A wounded wolf-hound was dragging itself toward them, slowly and painfully, snarling as dangerously as it could. "It must be his, I think."

Zevran drew an arrow and nocked. "I have it."

"No!" Leliana protested, tugging at his arm and sending the arrow wide. He glared at her. "These beasts, they act with cunning, bravery and loyalty. I would as soon shoot a halla."

"Are you sure you're Devoted?" Neira murmured incredulously. That was practically blasphemous, to compare the sacred beasts of Ghilan'nain to these slavering creatures.

"I will keep it away," she said confidently, carefully approaching the wolf-hound with upturned hands.

"Be it on her head," Neira said, turning attention back to the injured berserker. A few simple healing spells, and -

His hazel eyes snapped open and he tried to lunge at her, succeeding only at rolling himself face-down into the snow. "You're bound," Neira informed him, rolling him back over with a dainty foot.

His eyes fixed briefly on each of them in turn. "Why have you spared me?"

"I asked the same thing," Morrigan mused.

"Because," Neira said irritably, "someone told you we were coming, and someone told you we were... invaders? And I would know who."

"Your men in the green metal came," he replied easily. "They are the personal warband of your chief, truth? And they said..." He looked mildly puzzled. "They said an abomination was loose and coming to wreak havoc, stir up trouble between us and the elves."

Zevran crossed his arms irritably. "Yes, because I am so bad at my job as to allow a demon to possess a fellow Grey Warden and then, rather than strike it dead, follow it about the countryside."

"He is one of their allan'isa," Morrigan confirmed. "And neither she nor I are abominations, I assure you."

The human bared his teeth at her. "Fair words from one of their changelings."

"I am Chasind, a people as proud as your own," Morrigan retorted. "Never have I darkened the door of their Aerie."

"So you say."

"I say we're Grey Wardens," Neira said, brandishing the treaty at him. "And that I would speak to your elders. And that Primus Zathrian has tricked you with lies, and cost you the lives of your men as a result. He wishes us dead, that is true, because he is a coward who fled from battle, and we know it. And like a coward, he will not face us directly but instead gulled you with these tales sent with the Emerald Knights."

He looked at the treaty blankly, then back at her. "Are you going to kill me?"

"By the Creators, no! I wish only to speak to your elders!"

He considered. "Then I will take you to them. I do not know where the truth is, but perhaps they will." At that, Neira offered him her arm to aid his balance as he stood. He looked about to say something when his head turned quickly. "Dane!" He sprinted through the snow, throwing up great white plumes, and dove to his knees at the side of the wounded wolf-hound. "Dane, hold on. I will carry you home."

It was beautiful and terrible and it wanted her, called to her, its demand an insistent burning in her blood that threatened to destroy everything in foul and tainted darkness in a delirious orgy of death and pain. She tried to walk away, to find a different corner of the Fade where it was not, but it was everywhere, unending, a promise of completion and release from care, of mindless joyful service.

There was just one escape:

"Bad dreams?" Zevran asked as she forced herself to wakefulness.

She threw herself at the allan'isa, trembling in terror. "Help me! A demon from Beyond! It was so strong, I've never... Please!" In all her years walking the Beyond, she had neverbeen tempted like that, never met a corrupted spirit so canny and convincing.

His arms, open in surprise, closed gently around her. "You are in the waking world, and safe now, Neira. Can you tell me of this demon?"

Haltingly, she did so: the huge dragon covered in filthy spines, violet flames billowing from its cavernous maw, and its roar like a song. "It must be powerful and ancient... How did I gain the attention of such a thing? How can I escape from it?" Surely, she would stumble and it would come for her, twisting her body into a monstrous form and rampaging over the land.

Zevran's arms tightened around her. "You... took the Joining. And there is... no escape."

"What?" She pulled back, staring into his face with shock.

"That was no demon," he said solemnly. "It was the Archdemon, a corrupted spirit already incarnated in the body of that great dragon. It... controls the darkspawn somehow, with that song, and... we can hear it, too. We are connected to them. It is how we sense them - and they sense us."

"I won't become an abomination?" She clutched at that; that was the good news.

"No, you will not," he nodded. "Not from that, and I suspect not from any demon in the Beyond. You are so very strong, Neira." He said the last part softly, with admiration, and she suddenly realized she was still clinging to him.

She let go and stepped back self-consciously. "You have these nightmares as well?"

He nodded. "They get... better with time. And then, they... get worse again. Dunilkan said that, when the song gets too much to bear, the Wardens go to Orzammar, the city of the durgen'len, and fight with them in their deep tunnels until they die in combat."

She thought on that and laughed, a single, sharp and unpleasant bark. "I suppose I should thank the Creators if that be my fate. It seems so much more likely now that I will end up dead before the year is out." She paused. "I'm... sorry if I startled you earlier."

"No trouble at all, dear lady!" He purposefully broke the dark mood with an extravagant bow. "Although I wish it were something more pleasant than tainted nightmares that sent you into my arms."

"Do you now, allan'isa?" She wasn't sure if she should be affronted or... intrigued.

"Is that so surprising to you?" He spread both hands in apology. "Abelas. I meant no offense."

"...None taken," she finally decided. "But I believe I will begin my watch now."