With an unnatural hiss the last corpse of the latest wave was gutted by Lynn's flashing blade, a solid kick sending it rolling down the steps before her.
It didn't bring silence though.
There was gasps for breath. Frightened whispers through a closed gate from those unable to fight. The sound of crackling fire.
The smell of death was like a fog. It wasn't just that of spilled blood and innards, nor the stench of long dead corpses. It was as if the ground itself was dying, the wood and stones of the houses, it all reeked of a death not purely physical in the darkness of the evening. It was as if the whole village was suffering from a disease, a sickness slowly pulling it all into the ground.
They had fallen back to the chantry, to defend the people cowering in it as more and more undead had poured over their defences.
The ground before them was covered by the dead...and in the shadows cast by the roaring bonfire in the centre of the square...Lynn couldn't tell which were militiamen and which were their undead attackers. Most were that of their attackers however....not that it would help if we all die at the end.
"The oil is running out."
Lynn didn't even glance at Alistair, knowing her shadow to be at her right, as he always was. Instead she nodded, seeing the fire of the oil that had been poured in a semicircle around the entrance to the chantry flicker and die. Charred corpses lay in it, many having been felled by blackened arrows that still stuck out of them. Others had been cleaved apart, killed by the militiamen, knights and Lynn and her companions back when their defensive circle had been wider.
She could see Lloyd, the fat innkeeper, lay speared upon one of the sharpened stake defences that had been erected just behind the now dying fire...the protruding stake slick with his blood and gore. He was just one of many that had been killed...half the militia was dead, the other half laying wounded in the chantry and treated by an overworked Wynne, though a few still sat on its loft with their bows at the ready, lead by Leliana and the 'conscripted' Berwick.
Despite every preparation they were being worn down to nothing.
Yet they still held. Ser Perth and his knights still stood, as did Dwynn, though his men had died. The centre of their diminishing circle was held by Lynn and her friends though, the heart of their defence by now. It's such a thin line...
Yet they held, no one ran. The militia fought to defend their families, the knights for their honour and people...and Lynn and her friends...she eyed Alistair.
The man's breathing was steady by now, still raised shield covered with the black blood of their undead foes, as was his new sword. It was fitting that the man was wielding a weapon given by one of the villagers, a weapon he now used to defend them, its curved edge shimmering with enchantments. His gaze was steady, level, hard. It had remained so ever since they had heard of what was happening in Redcliffe...and it broke no argument in what was to be done.
No, there would be no retreat.
Prince...he's a prince... The mere thought made Lynn shudder. I've been fighting next to a prince... She shuddered again, not really sure how to feel about it. Noble blood...a nobleman...was she supposed to fear him? Hate him? She couldn't...he wasn't Vaughan, she couldn't see anything close to Vaughan in him...so what was she supposed to see in him? What was a nobleman to her? Besides Vaughan they were just distant figures, uncaring, unknowing of her very existence.
Of course that was anything but true with Alistair.
I can't believe I promised him not to use this... She could just imagine what the revelation would do if Alistair's existence was made public. She knew there were already rebellions all across Ferelden, what would happen if the last man of the Theirin bloodline was revealed? Even she had been close to bending her knee before him, a knee-jerk reaction ingrained into every citizen of Ferelden, made all the more powerful by the Orlesian occupation.
And if she, not holding any loyalty to the nation oppressing her people was ready to bend knee by the mere revelation of Alistair's origin, then what would others do?
I could take it back...she nearly smiled at the thought, the shame digging into her gut at the mere idea telling her she would never be able to do it. No, I can't, strange...guess I could convince him to change his mind...but no...I won't...it's his choice to keep it secret. She had done the same after all, none of the others knew much of where she came from, Alistair knew her cousins names, and that was it...so who was she to tell him what to do with his origin?
A prince...the clumsy, awkward Alistair...a prince? It didn't fit, wouldn't fit...yet...it did. It was actually a bit frightening.
"They're coming." The man muttered, eyes afire with anger as he gazed out into the dark village before him. It wasn't Oghren's mad rage though, nor the simple anger used to conceal a fear of death. It was fury, righteous fury, as if the dark shapes slowly appearing from behind the buildings around them had personally insulted him, as if their mere existence was a sacrilege. It was simple though, they threatened the people of Redcliffe, his people...and he was to protect them. Of course he would do that even if he hadn't been of Theirin blood...but now it carried far greater weight all of a sudden...far more importance.
Wonder if he realises this?
There was no answer in the infuriated glare aimed at the undead massing at the edge of the square.
"Leliana!" Lynn's cry was instantly answered by the twang of a bow just above her head, making one of the creatures collapse.
The unanimous hiss of the creatures was full of rage, mindless, hateful hatred squeezed out from lipless mouths. The charge came a second later, a mass of bluish skin hidden under tarnished armour of leather and steel..all rushing at them, weapons raised by bony hands. With the burning oil gone it took a while for them to come into the light. When they begun to climb the defensive stakes the light of the bonfire illuminated them though...and they were instantly treated to the missiles of the five remaining archers atop the loft.
They were mutilated. The corpses were blue and pale, their lipless mouths bared in ferocious snarls, skin blemished by scars and marks of some unknown disease. They barely looked human anymore...yet they had been mere days ago. Lynn glanced back at Alistair once more, worried. He had lived in the castle after all...though it had been long ago...did he recognise any of them? Were there old friends, protectors coming at him? Were they soldiers that had once played around with the boy Alistair as he ran around in the castle?
"For Redcliffe!" The man took a step forward, his blade decapitating the first undead reaching him. "For Eamon!" The next was gutted by his reverse stroke as the others struggled to reach the defensive circle, stumbling on the dead and dropping under the sniping arrows. "Save the people!"
Lynn smirked, despite the situation. As you command.
Then the undead were upon them. Alistair smoothly getting back within the circle as chaos washed over them. Lynn smashed aside a thrusting sword with her axe and repaid the blow with a thrust of her own, splitting the throat of the foe that hissed in rage even as it died. Another two came at her, only to be torn apart by a whirlwind of blades.
All around her the others fought and killed, sending the undead trying to climb the stairs to the chantry falling apart and piling up before them. Oghren, awash with black blood, kept swinging, each brutal hack tearing a gnarled limb off. Zevran, barely more than a shadow, darted in and out from behind the solid wall of knights, flickers of light instantly answered by the silent end of the undead before them. Morrigan, behind the stout defence of Dwyn sent fire and ice into the square, briefly illuminating the multitude of creatures before tearing them apart.
Sten was smiling, not physically, but there was a smile in the qunari's movements as he swept his blade over his head. His blade. Each move spoke of it. He fought as before, long sweeping blows that cut apart the heedlessly charging undead. Yet now his swings were even faster than before, more brutal, slicing the creatures apart, joyusly.
And next to her Alistair's mere roar sent the undead stumbling away, as if even they could fear his fury.
Their foes were so many, they so few, yet Lynn wasn't even afraid. They had faced a broodmother, they had killed darkspawn beyond counting, fought creatures from the fade itself...they could not lose...not now...not with him and his fury with them.
The assault faltered.
"Forward!" Alistair's cry surprised Lynn, he was more tactical than her, and even she realised it was smart to simply hold the line. Yet the anger glaring at the faltering enemies broke no argument, telling her there were other things but what was smart to do. "Purge the village of them!" Breaking ranks he leapt forward, for a frightening moment reminding her all too much of Cailan...then he smashed through two of the creatures, sending one flying into the bonfire and stabbing the other through the gut. "We have them now!"
She believed him.
As one the line that had held the entrance to the chantry for the last three waves broke into a charge, all exhaustion forgotten. Running over the carpet of the corpses covering the ground Lynn spun away from a swinging mace and buried her axe into the leg of the offending foe as she thrust her sword into a second, felling them both.
Around her there was chaos, but victory. The undead had been thoroughly split up by the obstructing dead, stakes...not to mention the sniping arrows and spells that had torn into them, leaving them too spread out to swamp the handful of defenders that now sallied out against them.
"Leave none to harm another living soul!"
Whirling around she parried a thrust at her face and buried her axe into the face a charging creature, splitting its skull in two. Most of her attention was on how Alistair parried a mace with his shield before cutting the head off another foe though, a glitter of recognition in the man's eyes as he stared at the now dead creature. He does recognise them...
He shook it off quickly though, need overruling any emotional pain, head held high he gestured for the knights to continue their advance. "Come! Fulfil your oaths!"
Then a creature slammed into his side.
No! Lynn stumbled on the dead before her, almost dropping her weapons as she stared up at the unfolding scene of the hissing creature pinning Alistair's sword-arm to his side, its free hand coming up to grab him by the neck, pulling it closer as its jaw opened for a hungry bite. No!
Then he shot an elbow into its gut, swiftly followed by a slash by his now freed arm, gutting the creature.
Another came at him, jumping at him like a madman. He let it land on his raised shield...grunted...and pushed it backwards even as he kept it above his head, the creature hissed at him, unable to reach him with its short mace.
With a crunch he pushed the creature into the stakes ahead of him, drawing a nearly human howl from it as both its hands came to clutch at the sharpened log sticking out from its chest. The howl was short though, rapidly silenced by a neat cut across its throat.
And suddenly there was silence.
Looking around herself Lynn realised there were none left opposing them, all of their enemies were felled, truly dead. The others were lowering their weapons, they too looking around themselves, not ready to believe that was the last of the creatures that had been pouring over their defences for most of the night.
Yet it was.
Turning Alistair sheathed his sword, a grin on his lips as he faced the knights that only now had managed to reach him. "See? Easy as pie."
A breathless chuckle escaped them, relief clearly seen in the faces of the knights as they too sheathed their weapons before doubling over to gasp for breath, one dropping down to sit on the many corpses around them. Still smiling Alistair went up and gave the sitting man a pat on the shoulder. "Good work, they're safe."
There was a murmur of assents from the knights, their weariness visibly fading at the simple comment, making Lynn smile as she realised the grinning Alistair didn't even see it.
He was a prince.
*
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her assistance.