A/N: Hi there, for those of you who have read my other stories then you know that it has been about two years since I uploaded anything to this site - sorry about that! I can't promise that this will be regularly updated as I am very busy but I hope to be able to give you guys something new every now and again. Anyway, enough rambling from me - hope you enjoy! :)
Disclaimer: I do not own the Dragon Age universe of any of its characters, except Magnus Wolfe, he is my creation.
Magnus Wolfe jolted awake in his tent as a crack of thunder boomed overhead.
A droplet of water fell on his cheek and as he wiped it off he could see a slight tear in the thick hide canvas directly above his pillow. His eyes hurt from lack of sleep, the thunder and torrential rain had been relentless in the three days since the Inquisition party had arrived in Crestwood and Magnus could feel his limbs ache as he grabbed his pipe and a handful of tobacco and dragged himself out into the night.
Or at least he thought it was night, the clouds were so thick that it could have been any point in the day.
As he stretched out in front of his tent Magnus was rewarded with his back cracking in a sweeping crescendo that ran up the length of his spine. The camp was located about a mile north-west of the small village of Crestwood and sat under the watchful gaze of an old chantry statue, sword strapped by its side and palms raised towards the sky in reverence. He wanted to say that it was Andraste but his knowledge of chantry idolatry was poor at best and in the end he resigned himself to his ignorance of the subject.
In front of the tent half a dozen Inquisition soldiers and scouts sat huddled around a makeshift fire, their drenched fur blankets cocooned around them as they shivered in silence, a silence that could long since be described as a companionable one.
A low cobbled wall surrounded the camp on three sides and to the south it overlooked an enormous lake. Magnus tested the structural integrity of the wall as he cautiously rested his elbows on top. Satisfied that it wouldn't crumble under his wait and cause him to go tumbling into the lake Hal withdrew his pipe and tobacco.
The pipe had been a gift from his sister back home in Haven. Engraved upon it was an elaborate hunting scene depicting a pack of wolves chasing a halla. He could not help it as his mind recounted the attack on Haven only three months previously but kept it at bay as he held out the pipe and tightly packed in the quickly dampening tobacco.
"Not tonight. I won't think about it tonight." He muttered to himself.
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching Magnus placed his index finger into the tobacco and closed his eyes, a moment later when he opened them the tobacco had burst into flames before dying down to a gentle ember that was impervious to the rain. He smirked and began smoking.
"Nice trick." Came a voice.
Magnus shot up and looked around, above him perched on a rock was a person, a woman by the sound of her voice, her face shielded from the elements by a thick leather hood and wrapped in fur similar to the soldiers by the fire. Magnus cursed under his breath as she effortlessly slid down and stood next to him.
"Oh don't worry! I won't tell anybody, I can keep a secret." She exclaimed, her soft voice interlaced with the barest hint of a tone of mischievousness. Magnus grunted, unsure what to think and acutely aware that the woman now held something over him. Under the hood, its rim dripping with water, he could see the flash of a smile, though it quickly faded. She paced over to the wall and adopted the same pose as Magnus had been in previously to his interruption. After a few seconds he followed suit.
Magnus could feel the rain stinging his cheeks as a fierce wind howled across the lake. In the centre a spectral light bubbled from under the surface and, though he couldn't see her eyes, he knew that the woman was staring at it.
"Some of the soldiers say that the wind is actually the voices of the spirits of Crestwood," she said suddenly, "wailing at their eternal torment."
"What do you mean?" Magnus asked. She turned to look at him, her emerald green eyes fixed on his.
"Have you not heard about this place?"
Magnus shook his head. She nodded before looking back over the lake.
"This lake wasn't here ten years ago, it used to all be part of the lower village of Crestwood. Then, during the blight, it was flooded with refugees fleeing the darkspawn who were not far behind. As the darkspawn began flooding into the area a decision was made, that the dam adjoining the fortress of Caer Bronach in the south-east would be opened and the whole lower village, people included would be flooded in order to prevent the advance of the blight."
"Did it work?"
She looked at him again.
"Yeah, it worked."
"Fuck."
"That's one way of putting it."
They stood in silence for a while, the rain beating down on their clothes and the occasional burst of lightening illuminated the jagged mountains of the horizon. Magnus smoked his pipe slowly, content to let the radiating heat warm his face.
"What's your name if I might ask?" the woman enquired suddenly. Magnus felt so lethargic that he almost didn't bother to answer, he could have pretended the storm and rain obscured the question but in the end that seemed like far too much effort considering it was such a simple question.
"Magnus Wolfe." He answered.
"Oh, you must be Ariane's brother! She told me a lot about you."
"Uh oh!" He said chuckling. The woman joined him in the laugh.
"Don't panic," she said, gripping his shoulder gently, playfully, "it wasn't all bad!"
"How do…" he stopped and felt his throat tighten, "…how did you know her?"
"She was my first friend when I came to Haven. My only friend actually. She was the only one who didn't see me as something I'm not."
"And what is that?" Magnus asked, slightly flippantly. The woman did not seem to mind though.
"Well, I…"
She was cut off by the sound of running feet squelching quickly through the camp and towards the area overlooking the lake where they stood. Through the dense rain and the dark Magnus spotted Scout Harding rushing towards them.
"Herald," Harding said panting as she addressed the woman next to Magnus in between laboured breaths, "we have word from the forward scouts, apparently the village is under attack by demons!"
As if the sound of her title brought her to life the woman drew back her hood and threw off her heavy cloak. Her long, cascading golden hair sprawled across her shoulders and Magnus found himself staring at her. So this is Ella Trevelyan, he thought to himself. He had known that the Herald was on her way to Crestwood but was sure that it wasn't supposed to be for another two days.
She cut him off from his thoughts before they were able to wander any further.
"Magnus," she said addressing him. He tipped the tobacco out of his pipe and replaced it beneath the folds of his cloak before straightening up. "how would you like to avenge your sister today?"
Magnus smiled and nodded and the Herald returned the smile before jogging off towards the centre of the camp and rousing her ragged followers.
Jogging to his tent Magnus dumped the cloak and pipe and pulled out his longbow and string. It took him no more than a few seconds to nock the bowstring. Once upon a time, when he was first learning as a child it might take him ten minutes to be able to do it, but now it was effortless, as easy as breathing.
He reached around behind him to check that his knife was in its place before swiping his quiver and two dozen arrows that were tied in a bunch.
There was no speech by the Herald as the soldiers assembled on the north side of the camp by the semi-cobbled road that led towards the dilapidated village. Instead, once all the soldiers had been assembled, roughly twenty, they were divided between Scout Harding, who led the archers, who made up half a dozen, and between the Herald, who led the remaining soldiers.
"Harding, take your troops up onto the hill and shadow our advance down the road." Ordered the Herald.
Magnus followed Harding to the rocky hillside and they carefully, yet quickly, weaved between the craggy rocks and meandered along, the whole time checking that they were staying parallel to the road. They passed a statue which one of the Elven scouts, a woman named Charter, said was Fen Harel, the Dread Wolf. She whispered a prayer to herself as they continued towards the village.
The village of Crestwood sat on a slight incline nestled within the hillside. Wooden dwellings intermingled with the skeletons of former buildings, an echo of a former time.
"I don't see any people." Magnus whispered and Charter shot him a concerned look.
"Hopefully they're holed up in their houses." She said, her voice shaking slightly.
They circled around to the north of the clustered village and after a signal from the Herald, who had taken up a position in one of the ruined houses in the western end, descended into a field. Carefully advancing through the crops Magnus felt his heart race in his chest, he couldn't see anyone; it was too quiet.
Suddenly a figure appeared at the other end of the field, the rain and smoke obscured their view enough for them not to be sure whether it was a person or…something else.
Scout Harding looked at Magnus through the crops and gestured for him to investigate.
Slinging his bow over his shoulder Magnus drew his knife and crept towards the figure. He made not a single sound as he approached though the noise of the weather would almost certainly have smothered it even if he had. When he was within three feet of the figure he sprang out of cover, grabbed its shoulder and pressed the point of the blade slightly, but firmly into the side of its neck. Not hard enough to pierce skin, but hard enough for whatever it was to know that the blade was there.
"No, please!" cried the figure and Magnus spun them around to see that he was human. He gave a low whistle and his fellow scouts emerged from the field.
"Calm down," soothed Scout Harding as she made her way over, "we're here to help."
Any bad feelings towards Magnus were instantly dropped as hope filled his eyes.
"Oh thank the Maker! By the front gate, the demons are attacking!" He pointed to the other side of the village.
Wasting no time the soldiers ran through the village and as they did so the sounds of swords ringing out grew louder. The gate and wall, which was little more than a padded out fence, were being manned by a few villagers armed with simply hunting bows and the occasional sword.
Magnus could see fires burning on the other side and the silhouettes of bodies revealed the source. Shortly after the smell of burning remains hit them like a wave and Magnus had to fight not to vomit and the taste stuck to the sides of his throat.
"Magnus and Charter, I want the two of you on top of that roof!" Harding shouted pointing to the blacksmith.
They climbed up the ladder next to the forge and saw that the other Inquisition soldiers, led by the Herald, were attacking the demons as they attempted to batter down the makeshift walls. Through the din Magnus spotted the Herald. She was like water, sweeping between the enemy effortlessly, cleaving them in two. Demon after demon were falling but the ground was drenched and Magnus spotted two of the soldiers die after losing their footing in the mud. He looked at Charter and nodded as they fired arrows into the ranks of the demons. They were careful not to shoot too close to their comrades, not because they didn't trust their aim, but because they didn't know how their fellow soldiers would move on the ground. Magnus picked off as many of the strays and demons on the side as he could but their ranks were too thick and his arrows too few and in no time both him and Charter had depleted their ammunition.
As he fired his last arrow Magnus spotted the Herald slip just below.
As if possessed Magnus threw aside his bow, drew his knife, the blade of which was the length of his forearm, and flung himself off the roof of the blacksmith into the throng below. It took him barely more than a second to cover the four metre fall and he crashed into the demon who had its sword raised above the fallen Herald, ready for the killing blow.
A sickening crunch sounded as they both sprawled into the ground, the mud splattering across their faces and bodies. They grappled briefly before Magnus got the upper hand by pinning its arm beneath his knee and brought the blade down into the its maligned skull, the sound of bone breaking reverberated across through the area as Magnus shot to his feet and lunged for the next nearest demon, the Herald having recovered her stance. It felt like hours washing by and they battled the demons but was likely no more than another ten or fifteen minutes. Despite their numbers the demons were not as good fighters as the Inquisition soldiers whom had now been joined by the rest of the scouts.
At the end of it Magnus just lay there panting as the rain cooled his body and his racing pulse began to wind down.
"That was stupid."
Magnus opened his eyes to see the Herald standing over him, a frown splayed across her face. Her previously golden hair was now thickly matted with patches of red and brown.
"What was?" he asked.
"Jumping off the roof, you're lucky you landed uninjured."
"I saw you slip." He protested as she helped him to his feet.
"I could have handled it. But what if you'd broken your arm? Or your leg? How would you have fought then?"
Magnus knew that she was right, it had been reckless. But at the same time he knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat.
"Well, luckily I didn't."
She frowned at his glibness but did not comment. Instead she turned to Scout Harding who, clutching a bleeding arm sidled up to them.
"What's the damage?" the Herald asked.
"Four dead, another six too badly wounded to be much good."
The Herald closed her eyes and Magnus saw that it pained her to hear it, though why he was not sure, war is war, people die; something he knew only too well.
"How mobile are you Harding?" the Herald asked.
"I'm good to go, your worship." She replied. The Herald winced at the word worship but said nothing about it.
"Good," she said, "You and most of the rest of the troops will head back to Skyhold and tell Commander Cullen to send reinforcements. I shall stay here and continue our business along with your two scouts, Magnus and Charter."
"But…your worship…what if there is another attack?" Harding protested.
"We'll manage." The Herald said and then turned away from the dwarf, a sign that the order was not up for debate.
"So what's next?" Magnus asked as Harding trudged off towards the weary troops. The Herald looked at him and smiled. A smile, something so simple, and yet in that moment it was so powerful, so potent, Magnus felt himself relax.
"We wait for reinforcements, and Maker knows how long that could take." She replied, "But first things first I think we need to pay the mayor a visit." And with that started off towards the gate before halting and turning around.
"You coming?" she asked, another smile tugging at her lips. Magnus laughed and began to follow her into the village, and he knew in that moment that he would follow her to the Black City itself if she had asked it of him.