Four
Vell slapped his face.
"Just do it already. It's fucking cold out here," she said.
Her right leg was lifted, the heeled boot planted firmly against the narrow window sill. Her back pressed firmly into the corner where the two walls met. She had lifted her robes up to her waist, exposing herself. This man had been game for the idea of sneaking out of the tavern and giving her the pumping she desired, but he was obviously getting cold feet about the idea.
Vell was feeling warm, but that was the effect of the many glasses of wine and shots of liquor she had downed. Her head was spinning and whatever inhibition she had before was gone. But even still, she could feel the icy mountain air creeping up her bare legs.
The soldier, at least she thought he was a soldier, pursed his lips, clapped his hands and began unlacing the front of his pants. He moved awkwardly, closing in, his manhood poking around and looking for the right spot. Vell knew she wasn't in the ideal position standing like this, but she wasn't going to give this fool her back and she sure as fuck wasn't going to lie down in the snow. If he wanted it as bad as he said he did just minutes before, he could deal with an odd stance.
He slipped inside of her, a profane word slipping out of his mouth. The soldier wasn't nearly as large as some of the mages she had snuck around White Spire with. He had done a lot of talking inside the tavern, but he was showing much less than promised.
He slowly moved back and forth, his jaw gritting tightly as he grunted with each thrust, his hands fumbling over her clothes to grab at her tiny breast.
"Come on," Vell said, frustrated at his pace. "I thought you said you knew how to use that thing? I'm going to fall asleep."
Typically emasculating a man in the middle of sex wasn't the best method to improve his performance, but Vell didn't care about this soldier. She didn't even know his name. He wasn't even that good looking. But he had talked a lot, she had drunk a lot and there was a need for celebration. She was free.
That, and the mages and the Herald of Andraste had sealed the fucking Breach today.
If that wasn't cause to get drunk and sleep around Haven, Vell didn't know what was..
The town was, of course, colder than the foothills had been. Haven was miserable, so any distraction was worthwhile. For the first time in her life, she didn't have Templars breathing down her neck. She could drink a whole bottle of wine just because she wanted to. She could stick her tongue in whoever's mouth she wanted.
The soldier increased his pace after the insult, sliding his arm under Vell's lifted leg and placing his other hand against the wall to brace himself as he thrust harder and deeper. Vell closed her eyes and let slip a quiet moan. She reached forward, grabbing his hair and forcing his head down into her neck. His lips locked on to her as he slammed his hips forward, burying himself as far as he could go inside her.
She pressed her boot harder into the windowsill, tightening the muscles in her legs and hips, increasing the tension throughout her groin. "Yes," she moaned, her fingers gripping and pulling on his greasy, black curls. "Just like that. Don't stop."
The soldier groaned, his head gave a jerk and shudder and his hips stopped suddenly. His breath was heavy, heaving as he began to withdraw.
"You've got to be kidding me," Vell groaned, banging her head lightly back against the wall. She gave him a hard shove to his chest with both hands and he nearly tripped over his pants, which were still pulled down around his thighs. "That's it? That's it?"
The soldier was lacing up his pants. She couldn't tell if he looked stunned, embarrassed or proud of himself. His face just looked stupid as he fumbled with the strings. Vell dropped her leg, slightly stiff now, from the windowsill and let the robe fall back over her legs.
"Take that pathetic prick of yours and get the fuck out of here!" Vell shouted, letting fire flare to her first and sending the soldier scurrying away, still trying to adjust his pants as he wobbled away.
She let the fire at her hand extinguish and shook her right leg, trying to work the stiffness out of her thigh muscle. That wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all. The night was still young. She could try again. Vell needed more wine.
"I guess that one didn't tickle the bits the right way, huh?"
Vell looked up as the other elf came around the corner of the building. Her blonde hair was cut rough and crooked, the black kerchief around her neck, her red dress roughly patched, the mismatched yellow plaidweave pants she wore looking just as threadbare. She was a regular in the tavern. Owned the place, or so some said.
"You'd think he never used the thing before," Vell said, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping back against the wall.
The elf chuckled. "Probably hasn't. This Inquisition is made up of half stuffy Chantry choir boys and the other half dumb shites to stupid too realize we're getting into a friggin' war," she said. She lifted her hand, in it a half bottle of bourbon. She shook the green bottle a little, offering, the liquor sloshing around in it.
Vell took it and gulped down a large swig, the bourbon fiery down her throat before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and passing it back. The elf - was her name Sera? - had been drinking just as hard as anyone in the tavern, cursing much louder than anyone else and chipping in jokes so dirty they sent some people running out with sour looks on their face.
"That's why I'm enjoying tonight, before we're all dead tomorrow," Vell said.
"Hope we got more than one more night before we're all dead," the blonde elf said. "I was just starting to have fun." She tipped the bottle to her lips swallowing two large gulps before pulling the glass down and blasting a loud belch.
"But the Herald sealed the Breach," the blonde elf said as she passed the bottle back. "So I guess maybe it's all over now. Everybody pack up and go home, yeah?
"Hope not," Vell said. "Outside of the cold, this is the most fun I've had in years." She tipped the bottle and took another gulp, spitting as she struggled to force it down. The fire was cutting right down her throat and she could feel her stomach twisting in protest.
Vell bent over and coughed, spitting again to try to rinse the bourbon off her tongue before she spewed. Everything felt like it was spinning.
Then she heard shouting. And bells ringing. So many bells. Loud bells splitting her head open. Vell tried to straighten back up, wobbling a bit on her feet.
There was a man's shout that boomed over the din of bells and shouting, a Commander's battle voice carrying over the noise. "Forces approaching! To arms!"
"Shite," the blonde elf said as she stepped away from the tavern, looking up the mountainside at the blinking lights of torches in the hands of soldiers cresting the hills.
When Vell had said they'd all be dead by tomorrow, she hadn't actually considered the possibility that they would actually be dead by morning. She could see the bobbing lights too, hundreds of soldiers coming over the mountainside. Nobody would march an army over the mountain - not up the road - in the middle of the night in the bitter cold just to come have tea with the Inquisition.
Her stomach felt ill and Vell jammed her fingers down her throat, gagging, coughing as she elicited the liquor up her throat. She turned her head, a forceful wave of vomit spewing between her lips into a small shrub. All of that wine and liquor burned twice as bad as it came back up, acid forcing its way through her nose as the brownish-red vomit came pouring out.
As she forced the last bit out, Vell coughed, her eyes watering and her nose burning as she wiped the remaining chunks, bile and spit from her lips. She stood back up, taking a deep breath and sniffing to try to stifle the burning. Her head was pounding from the stress of forcing liquid through it, but her stomach at least felt somewhat settled. She scooped some snow into her hand and stuffed it into her mouth to cleanse her palate.
"There," she said, folding the snow into her other cheek as the icy coldness numbed her tongue. "Much better."
Vell sprinted toward the front gate, passing several of the townsfolk and camp followers who were heading for cover in any of the buildings and the Chantry. Soldiers caught in the middle of their revery were quickly strapping on armor and sword belts, grabbing shields. Mages were pouring out too, staves in their hands as they marshaled toward the gates.
Vell fell in with the rest of the mages, faces she didn't even recognize as they formed lines near the gate. Just under the archway, Trevelyan stood with the Seeker and Commander Cullen, each of them exchanging quick words as they stared up the mountainside. Trevelyan pulled his blade and headed off down the path, the Seeker in tow behind him.
The Commander pulled his sword and turned back to the gathering lines of soldiers and mages.
"Mages! You…" he hesitated as he looked at the rows of robe-wearing, staff-carrying men and elves. He was a Templar, through and through, so the next words out of his mouth must have felt like someone kicking him in the balls. "You have sanction to engage them! That is Samson. He will not make it easy.
"Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!" The Commander turned toward the slopes, lifting his sword high into the air, pointing to the approaching army. As they grew closer, Vell could see it was an army of Templars, although they appeared different, their bodies covered in red, glowing crystals. Some appeared misshapen, hardly human, if she could see from that distance. Her vision was slightly blurred, but aside from the flaming swords of Andraste on their armor and shields, she might have thought it was an army of monsters.
The army commanders began to break the soldiers off into groups, shouting orders, pointing and directing them toward different rendezvous points around Haven's weak palisade. Grand Enchanter Fiona was before them now - Vell hadn't noticed her before - barking orders.
"These are Templars, so you know what to expect," Fiona was saying. "Support the soldiers. Engage the enemy as they grow close, but do not pursue away from the walls. Whatever happens, don't let them into Haven."
Vell burped quietly to herself, another pulse of hot bile creeping up her throat, though she caught it and swallowed it back down before it grew any worse. Her arms were tingling with the excited pulse of battle to come. She had felt so powerful, so liberated as she threw fire down the narrow corridors of White Spire, burning through the Templars in her bloody, fiery escape from the Circle that had imprisoned her.
She had engaged in a few skirmishes with Templars in Orlais and the Hinterlands, nothing too brutal. But her count of dead Templars had hit a half dozen after the last fight and she was itching to add more to the pile. "Come on," she said to herself, opening herself to the Fade and letting the mana flow into her. She could feel the flames creeping down her fingers, balls of fire forming in her palms.
There were many mages here, all drawing on the same arcane energies that she was having trouble focusing to pull her own mana. As they separated, it should get easier, she knew, but there was plenty of power to go around. The gaping hole in the Veil that was once the Breach had let so much power bleed into the physical world that there would be no shortfall of energy here for any of the mages.
The ether felt so raw and wild, an energy source waiting to be tapped. It was unlike anything Vell had ever felt in the Circle where everything was tested cautiously, done scientifically and under watchful eyes of Templars ready to choke off the connection at the first sign of trouble. Since being freed from the Circle, Vell had probed the limits of what she could really do with magic. The power she had just barely fingered made her giddy.
Some of the mages were breaking off with the groups of soldiers, but Vell made sure to stay still right where she was. If the enemy was coming, most would be coming straight for the gate. And that's exactly where she wanted to be, right in the thick of it all.
"Here they come!" Commander Cullen shouted, lifting his heavy shield at his side and hoisting his sword. "Inquisition! Prepare to engage!"
The Red Templars came sprinting and screaming, armor and swords and shield like normal. But they also had parchment-dry skin stretched tautly across bones, blood-red eyes and glowing crystals jutting from their faces and bodies. Then there were others that were twisted beyond recognition, pale-fleshed monsters with hunchbacks, hands warped into long, bony claws.
Vell cracked her knuckles, leaving her staff across her back and letting the magic flow into her hands. She loved the feel of power as it pulsed through her fingers and palms. She rarely used the staff, preferring not to have to wrap her hands around some rod just because the Circle told her that's what mages were supposed to do. A staff could help an initiate focus, but she found greater harmony with her gift by letting it flow openly into and through her.
She rubbed her palms together, pulling the mana through her and conjuring flame between her palms. She placed the heels of her palms together, thrusting her arms forward and opening her hands like a set of jaws. The red flames rolled into a ball between her fingers. She exhaled slowly, a feeling almost like arousal running through her as she uncorked her power.
"Move!" she shouted as the soldiers in a line before her. They all looked like young, skinny humans with armor that looked too big and too heavy for them to wear. They all wore freshly-forged Inquisition gear. A veteran would be wearing his own stuff.
They turned their heads, spotting the broiling ball of flame and quickly stepped to either side, opening a window between their ranks for her. Her eyes stared down the barrel of her arms, watching as the Templars drew in closer and closer, their ranks closing as they prepared to funnel in through the gates. She wondered if she should start a new tally for these Red Templars. It wouldn't feel right to chalk up all her kills with the regular Templars she had crushed before arriving at Haven.
"Eat this, you fucking Templar pricks!"
The magic erupted like a rocket off her palms, the flaming ball zipping past the Commander and out the gate, crashing into the tightly-packed Templars, shattering in a fiery explosion.
The smile crossed her face as the first few Templars flailed around, burning, trying to extinguish the magical flames that embroiled them. Through the smoke and flames, countless more marched forward over their burned and dying brethren.
"Inquisition!" Cullen shouted, his lion's helm pulled down across his face. "Charge!"
The soldiers lurched forward and while most of the mages hung back, Vell was right behind them, her boots crunching down into the snow, her eyes wild and her tongue nearly flapping out of her mouth like a dog eyeing prey. The Templars and soldiers clashed, many of the poorly-trained Inquisition youngster falling in the first collision.
A black fog rolled off around her, the sickening magic miasmic flowing around her in a ring. She pulled the energy from the Fade, letting it run wild and chaotic inside her as she siphoned out the entropy and spread it around her. None of the teachers in the tower specialized in the school and there were few texts on it. The Circle regarded it as too close to darkspawn and blood magic to be trusted, which is exactly why Vell had latched onto its study. She remembered the look of horror in the Templars as she inflicted them with the black magic as she and others battled their way through the hallways of the White Spire to freedom.
The Red Templar stepped over the body of the dead soldier and raised his blade to strike. Vell ran forward, her left hand swiping sideways to disorient and stagger him, her right hand pushing a weakening spell into in that caused his arms to drop and the sword to fall from his crippled fingers. By the time she was on top of him, she already had a ball of flame in her left hand again, which she pushed into his chin and let it fly forward, melting the steel helmet and everything inside it in one fierce blast.
Another rushed forward and she quickly eyed his head, forcing the black magic into his skull, pressing the mana down like a bludgeon shattering his resistance. The Templar grabbed the sides of his head, his mind paralyzed with an imagined horror. She moved so fluid, her fingers tracing the pattern of a hex to shatter his resistance as she prepped another fireball, pushing the flames into his gut and letting the ball of flame shatter and explode through his abdomen separating his top from his bottom.
She had been running the entire time, outpacing the rest of the soldiers and she stopped, digging her heel into the ground and lifting her palms out in front of her, firing blast after blast of fire forward one after another, moving her wrists just slightly, her drunken eyes darting from side to side, tracking and attacking each new Templar as it came up the hill. Some were too slow to avoid, Vell tickled with joy as others spilled to either side to get out of the path of the fire. The charred and smoking bodies fell before her, blackened corpses dropping into the snow, steaming as they made contact.
Vell doused the flame, drawing in more and more energy, letting the power of the Fade roll through her as she loosely formed the spell. She looked ahead, eyeing the ridgeline and pointed with the index finger of her left hand, watching as flames erupted up from the ground as she painted a wall of fire across the field to choke their advance.
She only realized then that she was laughing, a loud cackling as she spilled her powers onto the battlefield. This was the type of reckless power and destruction the Circle had preached against. They had advised careful and cautious practice, supervised and safe. Magic was meant to serve. Mages, if ever needed for war, were there to help and support and follow orders.
But as Vell belched flame against her enemies, she knew all those lessons to be false. Magic was a gift, not a curse. It was a godly power that coursed through her, she rained death out of her fingertips, even against Templars who were trained specifically to kill her kind. She had no intention of using her gifts to terrorize those who didn't deserve it, but upon her enemies, there was no need for caution or restraint.
There was a great whoosh, a stone from one of Haven's trebuchets flying up and over the battlefield toward the mountain. The giant stone hit the mountainside, rocks and snow sliding down the slope and burying a chunk of the approaching force in an avalanche.
Her eyes were wide with excitement watching the snow bury their enemy alive, following the glorious avalanche.
"Haha!" Vell laughed as she eyed down another charging Templar as she weakened his legs, the warrior falling as she pushed up fire from underground to blast him high into the air before his chest could touch the ground. "Is that it? Is that the best you can do?"
In answer, there was a roar, a screech and a giant, black shadow gliding overhead. She turned her head - that couldn't be a dragon, right - only to watch the great winged beast spewing red, crackling energy down upon the trebuchets and the outer wall of Haven. The dragon beat its wings, the force of air slamming down on the soldiers in the field as it moved toward her, its maw alight with red energy.
"Oh shit," she thought as she dove forward, diving underneath the magical breath that burned in a line right through the area she had occupied just second before. She could feel the cold bite of snow between her fingers as she pushed down to jump back to her feet.
"Fall back! Fall back!"
Vell couldn't really place the shouting, her ears were ringing from the roar of the dragon as it swooped down over her. Her robes were wet as she got back to her feet, looking around as the Inquisition soldiers flooded back toward Haven's walls.
"Come on, there's no time to waste!" It was Grand Enchanter Fiona, near her, the mage's golden staff drawn and swirling with light around the head. The Grand Enchanter was splattered with blood, but she didn't look hurt. She stood in the middle of a ring of bodies splayed out around her. "Hurry!"
Vell looked up into the sky, the dark wings beating and the dragon banking and turning to make a return over Haven. While she was confident in her abilities, she wasn't that confident. Vell started running back toward the gates, all of the Inquisition retreating as horns blew out warning tones. Fiona was behind her, ushering others back toward the gates as Vell approached the wooden walls of the town.
"Move! Move! Fall back to the Chantry!" Commander Cullen was shouting, his bloody sword in hand as he waved everyone inside. His eyes were looking down the path toward the trebuchets where the Herald had gone.
As she came back inside the gate, it was only then that she realized Haven was burning. While they had engaged the Red Templars in front of the walls, the town must have been surrounded on all sides. The palisade had been breached and soldiers had spilled inside, crossing blades with Inquisition forces and indiscriminately killing the townsfolk and camp followers who could not fight.
She instinctively ducked as she heard the whoosh and felt the shadow creep over her again as the dragon swooped across the town again. She could feel a spike of fear in her chest, her blood running cold and her body tightening up like a cornered animal. She swallowed, panting, as her eyes darted around the town. The Chantry was on the far end and there was plenty of bloodshed between her and her destination.
She turned over her palms, fire blooming in each as she bolted up the path. There were bodies of women and children littering the path, dead Red Templars, Inquisition soldiers and mages too clogging the walkway. She hurdled a dead elf and his wooden staff and came before a soldier battling off a Red Templar who was slashing ribbons into his armor. The young soldier lifted his shield and caught another strike, his sword wobbling in a weak retaliatory strike as the Templar pressed and cut another chunk out his pauldron.
Vell closed her left hand into a fist, extinguishing the fire and quickly flooding that hand with entropic energy. "Templar!" she shouted to get its attention, just long enough as she hurled the black ball forward, the magic paralyzing the Templar just for a second. The young soldier hit it with his sword, the steel blade digging into the armor but not deep enough to be fatal.
"Move!" Vell shouted, hoping the kid was smart enough to get out of the way as she threw the fireball in her right hand, crumpling the Templar to the ground in a molten heap. She came up next to the soldier, a young man with strawberry-blonde, curly hair and shoved him in the back. "Go! Go! Get the hell out of here!"
He snapped back, nearly stumbling over his feet as he ran toward the Chantry.
There were more and more Red Templars flooding over the walls and through the breaches in the palisade. Vell quickly looked as soldiers who were still fighting, trying to cover their retreat were slowly being overwhelmed. She threw a hex out in the direction of one fighter fending off a pair of foot soldiers with a two-handed blade before he cut one down and then turned on his heel and bolted back toward the Chantry.
Haven was lost.
Vell backpedaled, her heel hitting a body behind her, another mage, as she looked up at the dragon making another loop over the frozen lake. As it turned its gaze toward the town, she turned, put her head down and sprinted back toward the church. The Chantry, for the first time, would be a place of salvation for her.
"Get underground!" the red-haired women in purple and ringmail shouted and pointed toward the open door where everyone was rushing toward. Vell fell in, her lungs burning as her feet quickly chopped down the stairs into the underground corridor filled with the worried murmurs of the rest of the Inquisition who were bottled up and backed into the corner. There were some soldiers who were sitting on the ground, taking time to tend to wounds for the first time. Children were screaming and crying, babes hugged close to their mothers as the stones of the Chantry rumbled around them.
There was one fighter whose hands were loosely pressing a gaping wound in his flank, blood dribbling between his lips. His skin was pale and deathly, his teeth biting his lips, perhaps realizing he wasn't going to survive. Vell didn't study any healing magic and couldn't have helped him even if she wanted to.
Vell held her hand on her stomach, a pain in her gut that she was just feeling now from the exertion, over-exertion, of the fight. The Chantry rumbled again as if the church was struck by a boulder, sending up a new wave of worried cries and screams. She looked around. Men. Elves. Mages. All backed into the Chantry. All gathered and ready to be culled.
The enemy would come for the Chantry. If the dragon couldn't shatter the stones of the building, the Red Templars would soon beat in the gate. If that was the way they would have to go out, Vell wanted to go out free. She wouldn't be killed huddled in a corner with pathetic townsfolk to scared and weak to fight. The Circle had taken her life away once. If she was going to lose it a second time, she wanted to lose it on her terms.
She began pushing her way through the crowd, back toward the stairs upward where she could join the others she was sure would want to make a last stand. But before she could get there, the Grand Enchanter was on the steps, her hands above her head, shouting for quiet. Even as the Chantry rattled a third time, the cavernous underground corridor quieted.
"There is a way out!" Fiona shouted. "A path, through the mountains. We are going now. We can make it if we hurry. Follow me!"
There was a noise, it couldn't be called a cheer, but an explosion of worried chatter and shouting as the group surged back toward the stairs, the Grand Enchanter leading the way up. Vell got caught up in the tide of bodies moving up, eager to escape the burning remains of Haven. Even in the thick of the bodies, she could see the confident walk, the gleaming staff of Fiona leading the way just ahead of them.
And despite her feelings for the Grand Enchanter, Vell followed, once more.