Haven: the bulwark, Firstfall 25, Dragon 9:41
The next half hour was nearly a blur. Cullen, followed by Cole, Blackwall, and the newcomer, Dorian, raced up and down the line of the bulwark as a steady stream of Red Templars and rebel mages tried to break through their defenses. Above them on the watch towers and adjoining catwalks, Solas, Vivienne and Sera, who had been joined by both Scout Lace Harding and Leliana, stood picking off intruders as they advanced and providing Cullen and his team cover fire when necessary and shielding when the fighting became heavy.
Meanwhile, behind them, he could hear Rylen as he worked tirelessly evacuated scores of people to the chantry.
"Take only what you can carry!" Cullen heard him shout from over his shoulder. "Necessities and foodstuffs only if y'please! No, Seggrit, for the fifth bloody time: y'can't haul yer damned cart up there!"
"My lady, as much as I'm sure we'd all love a bath later, ye're going to have to leave your bejeweled tub behind. Yes, well, I'd be sad too if it were a gift from me mum but I'm sorry, your Ladyship, but we haven't the space for such—ornate objects."
Cullen huffed out an amused laugh as he listened to Rylen arguing with random Orlesian nobles, ducking a poorly aimed fireball from an enemy mage. He felt a ripple of power and jerked his head toward the source to see Ser Markham flanked by Knight-Lieutenants Gregory and Donnell.
"Greatly appreciated, Ser Markham!"
"Couldn't let you have all the fun now could I, Commander?"
Cullen chuckled, whirling under the blade of a Red Templar Shadow before stabbing it in the back, his sword punching through the thing's chest. He kicked it off his blade while Markham kindly protected his back. "No, I suppose not."
"That these things…" Markham said, "that they were once our brothers sickens me, Commander."
"We'll make Samson pay for this," Cullen said. "You have my word."
The heat and tempo of the battle separated them and, after a time, Cullen lost track of Markham, Gregory, and Donnell. Part of him had every confidence in their abilities yet his blighted voice of doubt made him worry something awful had befallen them. They'd just about demolished the Red Templar squads and their accompanying mages when Cullen caught sight of men clad in Tevinter armor – Dorian had called them the Venatori? – charging toward them in squads.
The battle ebbed and flowed and, for a time, it looked as though he may be forced to retreat inside the gate. Vivienne, however, allowed them to get the upper hand with some precisely timed pyrotechnics which burned as many Venatori as it sent running in fear. Wiping the sweat from his brow during a slight lull, Cullen had to admit that, while the Red Templars had been a formidable force, their Venatori handlers were extraordinarily talented. Granted, he and his men were far better trained and disciplined but where the Venatori lacked in those areas, they certainly made up for in superior gear and magical objects.
Surprisingly, he and Dorian had fallen into an easy rhythm which they managed to maintain, more or less, for nearly the duration of the battle. The newcomer to their merry band of misfits, although damnably arrogant, was an incredibly gifted mage—on par with Mnemyn herself—and was a clever ally to have at his side. Despite his earlier wariness, Cullen found himself slowly becoming rather impressed by his abilities as well as thankful for the Tevinter's sudden appearance.
Dorian seemed to sense this as well. "You know, Commander, I'd say we make quite a pair. Wouldn't you agree?"
"If you mean to say we're formidable allies, then yes, I agree."
"I don't suppose you're not already taken—,"
"I'm flattered, Messere," Cullen said, "but I am spoken for. You've, uhm, met her."
"Lucky girl," Dorian said, "I hate her already!"
"If th' two o' you are done flirting—" Blackwall quipped, "I could use some help here!"
Cullen turned to see hulking Red Templar – it was positively enormous, standing nearly as tall as the bulwark behind them – and, before he could move to assist, it batted the Warden away like a gnat. Blackwall was sent flying through the air, landing on his arse nearly three meters away, a small dust cloud rising from the road as he skidded to a halt.
"Solas, Vivienne and Sera, focus fire on this—thing!" Cullen yelled. "Cole, assist Warden Blackwall."
"That's a Behemoth, darling," Vivienne helpfully supplied while lobbing a fireball at the beast's head. Maker's breath, is there even a shred of the man this thing once was left inside?
While he and Dorian kept the thing busy, their ranged companions whittled away its defenses. After a few moments, Blackwall and Cole rejoined the fray and, with the addition of their skill, the seven of them were able to bring the Behemoth down. As it crashed to the ground at Cullen's feet, dead, the four of them stood panting for breath. Blackwall passed around a canteen of water which Cullen was incredibly grateful for.
As he stood taking a drink, in the distance, he could see Mnemyn and her team fighting their way to the second trebuchet. She'd set off the first, nearly fifteen minutes ago, successfully causing a slide that buried the front advancing lines of the Elder One's advance forces. Unfortunately, the result only seemed to anger Samson. Cullen knew the former templar had a terrible temper and hated losing and thus would likely redouble his efforts. The wave he and his team had just fought was just the first of many to come.
He passed the canteen to Dorian, his eyes trained on the ridge below the second trebuchet. Sure enough, he spotted four new squads of corrupted Red Templars, followed by smaller squads of rebel mages, marching toward Mnemyn's position. What he saw behind them, however, gave him pause. Nearly a full platoon of Venatori were organizing on the frozen river below. Samson meant to overwhelm and her. Apparently, Dorian had reached the same conclusion.
"Fastevas! They mean to kill her, Commander," Dorian said at his side.
The familiar buzz of opposing magic made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He wheeled but not quickly enough. An enemy mage was casting what appeared to be a massive fireball. He shouted a warning, stabbed his sword into the ground beside him and bodily hauled Dorian behind his shield, watching as Blackwall did the same with Cole.
But the fireball never came. Instead, he heard three arrows whiz overhead from the barricade above him in rapid succession and looked up to see one piercing the woman's jugular while the other two were lodged in her eye sockets. Blinking, he spared a glance over his shoulder to see not Leliana or Harding, but Sera standing on the catwalk above, a snarl on her lips. She nodded to him as if to say he was welcome and he numbly managed to nod back.
"Remind me to never make that young woman angry," Dorian quipped smoothly.
"You'd be wise not to even on a good day," Cullen said.
He was already moving to the gate as quickly as he could and shouted up to Solas. "Send someone to find Knight-Captain Rylen! Tell him to bring the reserves up immediately to replace me. The Herald is in danger and needs assistance."
"Of course, Commander!" Solas said in his usual calm timber. A second later, he disappeared from view. How that man could remain so composed at all times, he did not know.
Just a few minutes later, Rylen and two full squads rushed through the gate – a third squad on their flanks dragging barricades. "Commander!"
"Her Worship looks as though she may be overrun. I—"
"We'll hold th' line, Commander!"
Rylen nodded and turned to bark orders but not before sharing a meaningful look with him. He knew how much was at stake.
Cullen turned to look up at the catwalk his eyes searching for Sera. It didn't take him long to find her. She was near the end of the walk, her face set with both determination and fear as she tried to range the Red Templars whom were quickly encircling Mnemyn and her team. He ran toward her position and called out to her. "Sera, with me!"
The elf blinked, staring down at him for a moment in shock. The leap between he and the ground was nearly four meters and, seeing her hesitance, he shouldered his shield and stabbed his sword into the earthen road beside him. "I'll catch you. We haven't a moment to waste!"
Without any further hesitation, she tossed down her bow and quiver, which Blackwall retrieved, and then leapt from the bulwark, her eyes screwed tightly shut. Cullen caught her with ease and gently sat her on her feet before helping her collect her gear.
"Uhm, thanks… for thinkin' t'bring me."
He nodded but said nothing to her, as was their usual routine, pausing only long enough to look back at his other companions, issuing a new order. "Onward! To the Herald!"
He grabbed his sword and hefted his shield before taking off in a sprint. At his back he heard his motley crew of companions follow.
"Maker's balls!" Blackwall shouted. "That's the Grand Enchanter Fiona!"
Mnemyn was locked in single combat with the elder mage, her brow set in determination.
"I don't know what that thing's told you, Grand Enchanter, but I can assure you—," she said. Ducking a bolt of lightning, she cast another barrier over herself. "I am not your fucking enemy!"
"Oh but I am!" Dorian said under his breath, unleashing what appeared to be a necromantic spell. Cullen watched as the Grand Enchanter, who had clearly not seen their approach, clutched her head and wailed in terror. He nodded his thanks to the Tevinter for giving them an opening to join the battle. "What delightful fun, wouldn't you say, Commander?"
"You have a strange definition of fun, my friend," Cullen retorted wryly.
"Friends? All ready? My, my, it would seem my charms are as effective as ever."
Several Red Templars were moving to flank Mnemyn and Cullen shot forward, dodging past her to interpose himself between her and them. He was shocked at how monstrous this pair of Behemoths appeared – the red lyrium had fused their armor to their bodies and it almost appeared as though the metal had become twisted and jagged where the crystalline structures of lyrium had punched through it. Neither Mnemyn nor Cassandra's reports had quite captured how utterly grotesque and almost other worldly these things who'd once been men. It occurred to him now as he stood locked in combat with them, these men might even have been friends of his at one time. That he couldn't even recognize them as human anymore troubled him deeply.
Blackwall skidded to a halt beside him, grunting as he grappled with the second Behemoth. A second later, Blackwall ducked and just in time, too, because the thing swung its massive claw arm – the width of a moderately sized tree trunk – at his head. Cullen bashed his shield into the face of a Shadow, knocking it to the ground dazed. A moment later, it was pierced by no less than four crossbow bolts, killing it. I suppose being friends with Varric has its perks outside of help with wooing Mnemyn, Cullen thought, smirking to himself as he turned to assist Blackwall, stabbing the Behemoth in the thigh to get its attention.
While he was preoccupied with helping Blackwall, a second Shadow melted out of seemingly nowhere and managed to catch him as he had his shield facing front, slashing him between the lower plate of his rerebraces and the elbow joint of his vambrace. He grunted, whirled and stabbed the thing in the throat watching as it gurgled its last breath.
The Behemoth roared and the Warden hauled him around and to his back, shielding them both from another vicious attack from its claw. As they stood huddled behind Blackwall's shield, waiting for the creature to let up, the Warden scrutinized Cullen's wound. "Need to make sure no shards were left b'hind. That shite gets into your system and—"
"Don't need to tell me twice," Cullen managed through clenched teeth.
"Madame de Fer!" Blackwall yelled. His voice echoed over the din across the battlefield, successfully catching the Enchantress' attention. "The Commander's been struck by a Shadow."
"Say no more darling!"
When did Vivienne join the fray? When last he'd seen her, she was still on the bulwark where Mnemyn'd ordered her to stand with Solas at the main gate. Perhaps Rylen had deemed the situation under control and sent her to assist?
He heard Mnemyn make a pained noise and, in his peripheral vision, could see her leaning on her staff. Remaining crouched behind Blackwall, clutching his bleeding triceps, he turned his head look in her direction and growled. Seeing there was a sizable gash along her right side, blood soaking the teal sash she wore under her belts; Fiona had clearly managed to break through her defenses. And immediately he realized why; Mnemyn was staring at him, her eyes wide with concern.
Blackwall's revelation had drawn her attention to him which left her open to attack. His first instinct was to disengage so he could turn to bash Fiona in the face. Though he knew if he moved at all there'd be a very strong possibility that if there was any red lyrium in his wound, it'd very likely work its way into his blood to infect him.
He gave Mnemyn a stern look as if to say not to worry about him and then looked up to see Vivienne descend on him like a graceful, if not entirely too flashy, bird. "Let's see your arm, darling."
He turned to allow her unfettered access to the wound, teeth clenched in preparation for the pain that would accompany her examination. He felt the familiar ripple of magic race across his skin and glanced to see the First Enchanter studying his wound with determination, her right hand glowing with a faint, elegant blue light. After a moment she smiled. "No red lyrium, dear. You were quite lucky; Shadows are much more brittle than the others. I'd suggest speaking to Herritt about a set of full Gardebras once this nonsense is over."
Cullen nodded as she pressed a healing potion into his hand. "Thank you, Madame de Fer."
"My pleasure, darling. Now do be more careful. Her Worship would be beside herself should something happen to you."
Cullen nearly choked on the healing potion, staring up at the elder mage eyes widened in surprise. Vivienne smirked but said nothing more, gliding off to rejoin the fight while commanding her mystical fade sword flying through the air to strike her next target.
Meanwhile, Mnemyn was still engaged in combat with Fiona. The two had more or less come to a stalemate and had begun circling one another with ill intent, each looking to find the proverbial chink in the other's armor.
"I didn't want to do this," Mnemyn said, her voice ragged. She straightened and reached out with her free hand, her fingers splayed and flexing outward toward the Grand Enchanter. Immediately the other woman began to freeze, literally, ice crystals growing rapidly up from the ground to encase her in a person sized glacier right up to her neck. She tried to speak, obviously to cast a counter spell, but Mnemyn ripped her hand into a fist and ice flowed over the other woman's mouth. "But you've left me with few choices!"
Dorian rushed up to her side to at once guard her flank and press a healing elixir into her hand. As she drank it down, Dorian turned to acidly dress down the senior mage. "Can you not see the madness in your master's eyes, Grand Enchanter? That thing means to tear the world asunder. Are you so resentful of your Chantry that you'll help him do it? Or perhaps you're just that foolish? A pity someone of your stature and ability would fall to ruin so easily!"
"Altus!"
Fiona's eyes went wide with shock and, possibly, fury but Dorian did not relent. "You do realize he means to enter the Fade, don't you, Grand Enchanter? Perhaps you aspire to the lofty goals set forth by the despicable Magisters of old who blackened the golden city and cursed us with the darkspawn. I'd wager this would set off the second coming of the darkspawn; you'd be responsible for that, Grand Enchanter."
The ice began to crack. "Dorian!"
"Well, I suppose that makes you as much a villain as he!"
"Are you mad?" Mnemyn demanded, throwing up a shield over both of them as the ice exploded, sending crystalline shards hurtling through the air like icy, sparkling daggers.
"Trust me," he grinned.
"You would dare assert I, a former Grey Warden, would wish to strengthen the darkspawn?"
"It would seem so—perhaps you could enlighten us?"
"He said the Chantry wished to enslave us once again—but this time we'd be bound in actual chains. Like the Qunari do to their mages! I could not let that happen to my people! I had no knowledge he was responsible for this Breach. He said you were, Enchanter Trevelyan!"
"Oh yes, because I simply love destruction and mayhem." Mnemyn spat. "You know my record, Grand Enchanter! I have never been anything but peaceful—in fact it was you who presided over my thesis on how to humanely rehabilitate abominations back into their human forms."
"Don't be a fool, Grand Enchanter!" Cassandra yelled from across the battlefield. "The Herald wishes to save Thedas from the Breach not destroy it!"
Fiona stood still, staring at them and the chaos that roiled around them. It seemed that, for the first time, she was seeing the damage her new master had wrought. Finally, she bowed her head and, a moment later, she knelt in surrender and laid her staff on the ground at her feet. "I yield, Herald. Do what you must."
"I'd sooner destroy a stained glass window than a deeply respected and learned mage such as yourself, Grand Enchanter. Join me and atone. Together we can fix this regrettable mess!"
Fiona looked up at her in shock. Clearly, she'd not expected Mnemyn to spare her, let alone ask her to join the Inquisition. Cullen wasn't terribly thrilled by the idea himself but found he was at once entirely too busy keeping the Red Templars at bay as well as wanting to give his beloved the benefit of the doubt.
"I don't understand—you would spare my life?"
"Yes, I would," Mnemyn said. She held out her hand in peaceful, welcoming gesture while smiling gently at the elder mage.
"And what of my comrades?"
"If they desist their attacks, I will spare them as well. They are welcome to join the Inquisition but I insist that, after this they will submit to being monitored by the Inquisition."
"You'll get no such deal from that thing on the bluff," Dorian said, "he'll sacrifice you and your comrades at the earliest opportunity should you survive the day."
Fiona stared at the Herald's outstretched hand for a moment, considering her offer. "Then I accept and humbly pledge myself to your cause."
"Excellent. Now, if you'd be so kind to call off your companion mages? I'd prefer to save as many lives as I can today, Grand Enchanter."
"Of course, Your Worship," Fiona said. The Grand Enchanter curtsied deeply in respect before darting toward the edge of the bluff the Trebuchet sat on. Using a simple spell, she amplified her voice so it carried across the battlefield. "Mages! Hear me! We have been deceived. Desist! The Elder One has deceived us! We must help the Inquisition turn the tide against that monster!"