Chapter 12; Sundered skies
Characters of the chapter
Julius Argentus, Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, commander of the 1st expeditionary legion of Tevinter
Morzol zo Raqun King of Meereen, elected supreme speaker for the Resurgent Masters of Meereen
Pet slave and blood thrall to Tiraen Tasvius
Tiraen Tasvius Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, ambassador to Meereen, commander of the 5th expeditionary legion of Tevinter, formerly apprentice to Magister Cato Argos.
Cursive/Bold text is in Valyrian
It was here.
The day of battle had arrived at last. All that needed to be accomplished had been. The army was lining up along the mouth of the pass, thirty thousand of them all told, a wall of white and silvered steel against which the hordes of the Dothraki would crash against. The traps were all dug, to funnel the enemy and clump them together. The sloping rocky cliffsides were littered with scorpions, archers and mages, ready to pepper the enemy as they approached, safely tucked away where arrows and horses would have a hard time reaching them. Behind the main line of infantry more ranged troops waited to do their part. Behind even was the imperial cavalry, the heavily armored Kataphraktoi foremost among them, supported by lighter cavalry. They were their last hope should the infantry line buckle.
Beyond the coming battlefield, in the Tevinter camp itself, the orb was being readied for unleashing against the Dothraki. Tiraen did not know exactly what Cato had planned, only that he and several other Magisters were in the camp to conduct the ritual in the works. She would have gladly lent herself to the effort, but she and Julius had been entrusted with an equally important task. Their joint legions would have to hold the line until the power of the orb could win this battle for them. Their legions were able, veterans of many battles both here and at home. They had done all they could to put their enemy and their horses at a disadvantage. Even so, outnumbered two to one by a horde of riding savages with a fearsome reputation, the odds were hardly in their favor.
Both legions contained perhaps eight thousand soldiers suited for melee combat, with an additional three thousand available if their cavalry was ordered to dismount. That mean their main line had a strength of sixteen thousand, with a reserve of additional six thousand. Against that there were arrayed sixty thousand cavalrymen, each of which could fight either as missile troops or shock cavalry. If the infantry line was breached the fight would be lost. Imperial cavalry could be used to counterattack, but they lacked the numbers to do more than plug the gaps in the infantry line. Missile troops would be unable to stop a direct cavalry charge at all. Everything depended on their outnumbered infantry holding the line long enough.
Everything.
Without the orb victory would not come easily here, if at all. The walls of the pass would protect the Imperial flanks and their defenses would rob the impetus of Dothraki charges. But Dothraki were not easily discouraged by casualties and with time sheer force of numbers could overwhelm the Tevinter defenses. And if the Dothraki encountered stiff resistance they could always disengage and ride elsewhere, and next time imperial forces might not have the opportunity to meet them on a ground of their choosing. And once the enemy chose to withdraw, there would be no pursuing them. Even if their forces did not consist of light cavalry, a unit type notorious for being near impossible to catch up with, Tevinter forces wouldn't dare abandon their fortifications to hunt the Dothraki. Far too many had been lost to feigned retreats that way. This meant that standard troops lacked the means to deliver a decisive victory in this battle.
Even if the Imperium miraculously won through conventional means, it would come with cripplingly heavy losses to the two legions. Those numbers would be needed elsewhere as their nation pressed on to other objectives. With the orb in their control they had the last piece needed for the invasion of the Twin Kingdoms: the means to destroy the dragon. The time to invade was fast approaching, but before it could occur Essos would need to be cleared of foes. First the Dothraki would fall. Then Braavos would be laid low, disciplined harshly for its stubborn defiance of Imperial authority. The second sons would be hunted down and exterminated. With all other opposition in Essos dealt with, the Qunari assets in the Stepstones would be hit with all available force, cleared or pushed into defensive pockets. Then at last the Twin Kingdoms would be vulnerable.
Most importantly this day needed to send a message. The Dothraki hordes were not to be merely repulsed, but annihilated utterly. That would show the world no army of thousands could withstand Tevinter's might. Their enemies would know the power the Imperium commanded, and they would know despair. Today's victory would mark the day when the Tevinter Imperium would begin its march to reclaim its former glory.
Tiraen was watching the battlefield from a low hilltop, atop a white steed, Julius at her side on his horse. The hill provided a good view over her troops and deeper into the pass and the plains beyond it. A good place to await the first sign of the of the enemy's approach. Fairly soon they would be joining their legions, to command them and add their magics to the coming battle. But for now they were still overseeing their deployment to the battlefield. That, and attending to their honored guest.
Morzol zo Raqun was there to watch the battle unfold, seated on an ornate throne of beautifully carved wood, inside a pavilion set up for him. The Meerenese auxiliary troops however were elsewhere. "Just as well." Tiraen thought. Today's triumph would belong to Tevinter and she would have no others try to hog the glory.
The King's own reason for being here was so that he could claim to have participated, intending to ensure that the history books would fail to note that his troops took no part in the battle. By so doing he hoped to enhance his image, make himself as the warrior king he fancied himself as. From the Imperium's perspective this King was here for a singular reason. He was here to be impressed, to then carry that awe back to his city to further cement their alliance with Tevinter. To demonstrate with words and witnessed deeds the benefits of cooperation and the folly of defiance. So far he had done his part well enough, giving frequent praise of the Imperial armies, speaking of how blessed his people were to have such a friend and how foolish the Dothraki were to fight them. Much of it was an act for the sake of appearances. She could hear it in the way he spoke. Even so Tiraen had noted a few genuine reactions as well. After today all his praise would be genuine.
For all the opulence he had insisted on carrying with him it was clear the King was not contented here, so far from the comforts of his city, assaulted by the heat and dryness of this place. That said the man had done what he could to improve his conditions, sipping iced wine and eating dried fruit, attended by an entire throng of scantily clad elven women. Tiraen recognized each of those as the ones she had gifted the King over the years. And what a gift they had been.
In the matter of the slave trade the Imperium had consistently been more a buyer than a seller on this continent. When they came to sell elves they always brought only a handful so their buyers had no chance of creating their own stock, selling them at exorbitant prices to wealthy individuals. As a result elven slaves had become something of a status symbol for local nobility. It was a rare thing for anyone to own even one or two, a privilege of the rich. To have possession of several dozen was an outrageous display of wealth and influence. Which had been the whole point of all that giving of gifts. Not only had she gained the King's gratitude for elevating his status, but she had also tied his power to hers that much more. Everyone in Meeren knew it had been her and by extension the Imperium that had provided zo Raqun with his status symbols. That meant that the things she gave away as gifts were indicative of her own wealth and power. And so in elevating the King she had elevated herself. If she could just give away gifts of such value so frequently, how much more wealthy she herself had to be? Of course buying elves from back home wasn't nearly as expensive as doing so in Essos would be. And of course as an ambassador she had the funds of the Imperium to fall back on. But the Meerenese did not need to know that.
"Scouts say the Horse-Savages are on their way. The Battle will be starting soon. Are you feeling ready for it my love?" Tiraen asked of Julius.
"Reasonably so." He said. "Though… if the orb does not work, or something goes wrong when Cato and the others try to use it… this could get really ugly. If that's what happens, what next? I wish we had a plan B." He added. Tiraen could hear the worry in his voice.
"Trust in Cato. Trust in our god. Trust in the process. And if none of these give you enough confidence, then trust in us." She said.
"…Yes. Yes. In us." He said. "If only we could fight side by side in this battle." He added wistfully.
"If only. Right now I'd like nothing better." She agreed. "But we are here for each other, even if we won't be at each other's side. We are both here on this field of battle, our legions behind us. With their combined strength I have confidence our lines will hold. Long enough to bring victory. We can do this, together."
"Together." Julius said, nodding.
Tiraen turned to the King. "Your Majesty, the battle will soon be upon us. Needless to say you should remain here once the fighting starts. You might be tempted to take a closer look at the battle, but do not. That would not be safe. You should also ensure that you and your entourage are ready to evacuate at a moment's notice and return to camp." She told him, switching to Valyrian.
"How much risk is there that the enemy will break your lines? Is it dangerous for me?" The King asked, pausing in his eating.
"We will be able to keep you safe, I have every confidence of that, so long as you do not come too close to the fighting. The Dothraki are not why I advise you to be ready. I lack the details of what Magister Cato is going to attempt, but to destroy an army of sixty thousand the spell required will be of a colossal scale. Such a thing could prove hard to control, difficult to contain the destruction only to the enemy. I would not have the leader of an allied power caught in it." She said.
"I see. I shall do as you ask then. It will be a glorious thing to witness you defeating these scum. Long have we lived dreading their hordes, sadly lacking the means to vanquish them. Forced to pay them tribute to stave off the destruction of our cities, fearful of the day it would not be enough. To be there to see their defeat… it is a great honor." The King said.
"Aye. I too am glad to see it, to be part of it. A great day." Tiraen added with a smile. "But this is not just a day of defeat to them. It's the beginning of their end."
"Oh? Why do you say that?" The King asked.
"There has been a… new directive. From the Magisterium. A permission for an action, long sought and now finally granted." She explained.
"And what new directive is this?" He continued asking.
Tiraen was about to reply when Julius pointed at something ahead. "Tiraen! Look!"
She turned her head and saw the massive dust cloud in the plains beyond the pass Julius was been pointing at."
"And so arrives the moment…" She said. "We should get to our legions. Take care Julius. Do make sure you survive the battle. I would be very sad if you did not, so consider it an order."
Julius chuckled. "By your command then my love. You come back alive as well."
"You bet." She said and spurred her horse to a gallop. Julius lingered behind for a moment longer, watching her ride, a smile ghosting on his lips. In her white garb, atop her white steed, her black hair flying in the wind as she rode, she looked every inch a goddess to him. Formidable, potent, glorious and beautiful. And she was his, her love to him given and fully returned. With those thoughts he set forth towards his legion.
Soon enough Tiraen arrived to where her legion was stationed, riding past the cavalry and the ranged troops and straight to the main infantry line. She rode past the hulking frame of Pet, and that of Selia, who was there with a backpack full of Lyrium potions. Of course Tiraen had blood magic and that would provide most of the power she would need in this battle. But it never hurt to have an additional source of power at hand, particularly when facing a battle as long and taxing as this one would be.
As she approached the line of infantry, her soldiers parted, allowing her to pass. Once through she turned her horse around, facing her troops.
"Friends! Tevinters! Countrymen! Heed me well!" She shouted, using a spell to amplify her voice, making it boom across the field, so all her troops could hear her.
"There, in the distance, within that cloud of dust, surge forth the hordes of the dothraki savages!" She said pointing behind her. "In some of you that sight causes anger and hatred! In others it brings worry, even fear. But in me that sight causes only amusement!"
She let her words sink in for a moment before continuing. "You wonder why I feel as I do. And I shall tell you: It is their incredible impudence! We are the masters of this world! Every trueborn son of Tevinter is an emperor, every trueborn daughter an empress! Every piece of this world and all the peoples upon them are ours by right, to do with as we please! And yet these barbarians would challenge our mastery!? These stinking, half-naked savages that fuck in the open like animals!? It is an absurdity, a sad joke! For that alone I am amused that they dared! But I am also deeply offended. Surely the arrogance they have displayed must be punished!"
Another pause for dramatic effect.
"As it is, the Magisterium and the Archon agree! They have decreed: ENOUGH! By their command, from this day forward we shall destroy the dothraki until they are a people no longer! We shall hunt them, until naught but corpses and slaves remain! They and the world will know the price of defying us and they will shudder at the knowledge! Ten thousand years from now our enemies will remember what began this day, and their betrayals against us will wither and fall to dust! Now my soldiers, let us begin!"
As her troops cheered she removed the voice amplifying spell and returned behind the infantry line. The dust cloud had drawn much closer as she spoke dothraki riders starting to emerge into view, rushing forward in a great throng. The scorpions nestled along the walls of the pass were already firing into the cloud and on occasion a man or a horse was impaled as a hit was scored. Imperial archers along the cliffs gradually added their firepower as the enemy came into range. Some dothraki tried to return fire as they rode past, but the high elevation and cover behind rocks made her troops there a hard target to hit. Only a few of her soldiers died to enemy arrows amongst the rocks.
The dothraki began to reach the traps, many horses tripping on them as planned, throwing their riders. Some of the savages broke their neck on the hard landing, while other s were trampled by the masses behind them. Those that survived that began to find the trapless route and charged down it. As predicted the horse-savages ended up pressed into a tightly packed mass as those who tried to spread out constantly hit the traps.
A perfect target, just as had been intended.
"Archers! Mages! Open fire!" She shouted a command. The archers behind the infantry began adding clouds of arrows to the single shots of the cliff archers. Mages began to call upon their powers, blasting holes into the enemy mass. Tiraen readied her first spell, firing a beam of lightning from her staff, carving a furrow through the enemy. In the front ranks of the infantry line the Shining Shields locked their namesake shields in anticipation of the enemy retaliation. And true enough, dothraki archers began shooting back, arrows clattering against the metallic surfaces of the shields, now and then a Tevinter dropping when an arrow found an opening. The Shining Shields held firm under the barrage but the dothraki arrows soon began sailing overhead instead of directly at the shields, impacting the rear ranks of the infantry line and those of the Tevinter archers.
Amidst this exchange of fire the dothraki assault continued. At first the sheer amount of firepower thrown against them was enough to break the dothraki charge. They pulled back before contact was made, leaving dead men and horses littering the ground. But they did not retreat all the way, instead reforming themselves and resuming their attack closer to the imperial lines. This way they were able to close the distance. The first riders were soon in the trench, slowed down by it as had been intended, taking away the worst impact of the charge, to then face the spears of the Shining Shields. A vicious melee began, the two sides hacking at each other with brutality. Horses and their riders were skewered by spears or cut up with axes. Meanwhile dothraki fired their bows at point blank range at any opening they found and did their best to strike at the soldiers within the shield wall with spear and arakh. Several dothraki jumped from their horses to the midst of the infantry, each killing several Tevinters until they themselves were slain. All the while projectiles sent by both sides continued to fly, never stopping. Quickly glancing to her right Tiraen could see that more dothraki were coming into contact with Julius's legion also.
That was the start to a fight that dragged on for hours and hours. The Dothraki continued to crash against the Imperial line, only retreating to regroup. A more flexible enemy might have tried to attack exclusively at range until a weak point formed in the Imperial line or they ran out of ammunition. It would have cost them dearly, but the enemy could afford the losses. A more flexible enemy might have chosen to leave their horses behind and fight on foot, to be less vulnerable to incoming fire and traps. Less dependant of the shock power of a mounted charge the Imperials had denied them. But the dothraki loved the thrill of the charge and of close combat. And, as ever, they did not take infantry seriously, believing them to be no threat. Even experience would not change their mind of that. And so they charged again and again and again. A hammer trying to batter through the imperial shield. Tevinter forces stood their ground, never giving the enemy an inch. An unstoppable force against an immovable object indeed.
In an open field, formed up like this, the Tevinters would have been in trouble almost at once. Their lines would have been outflanked and their army surrounded on all sides. The walls of the canyon pass and their fortifications had prevented that. Through them they had bought time, but only that. Each moment the battle continued thinned the Imperial lines a bit further, the survivors tiring out. The enemy was sustaining at least as heavy losses, but they had the numbers and cared nothing for their dead. For as long as the enemy had the advantage the assault would continue, this she knew. The enemy had committed every mistake she had hoped they would and her forces were holding well, but still it would not be enough.
"Hurry, Mentor. Hurry." Tiraen thought to herself.
As time passed the situation started to show signs of deteriorating. Ammunition began to ran dry for the Tevinter side. Slave bearers were hauling more from the camp, but the demand was more than they could supply. Resupplying the troops on the cliffs could not be done at all, so fire from there began to taper off. The Dothraki had to have some way of replacing the arrows fired, since the fire against the Imperials never seemed to reduce in intensity. Tiraen could not see how the horse-savages were managing this, nor did she have the means to do anything about it even had she known.
Now and then the Dothraki managed to make the Imperial lines bend, even creating local breakouts a few times. Each time Tiraen ordered the Kataphraktoi to make a counterattack, the heavy cavalry stabilizing the frontline and allowing the infantry to reform themselves. Pet also proved to be a useful instrument during counterattacks, cutting down men and horses with ridiculous ease, never tiring. When he was not at the front fighting he remained by her side, ready to defend her should there be a threat to her life.
As the frontlines diminished and grew tired enemy breakthroughs became more and more common, requiring faster reaction times from her. Tiraen could not see properly how Julius's legion was doing to her right, and had precious little time to spare from looking after her own legion. But it was clear his legion was being hit just as hard as hers was. She just had to hope that her lover was still alive.
For all that the situation was getting progressively worse, she did not panic. She remained on horseback, just behind the infantry line, casting spell after spell against the enemy.
She summoned an oily black stone from the fade and sent it arcing through the air. Just before the stone touched down she directed some force magic to its center. The stone shattered violently, sending a hail of shards sharp as daggers in a cone shape underneath it, shredding a bloody hole into the dothraki ranks, a dozen slain at once.
Without pause she switched to her next spell. She gathered her power and concentrated, a red glow on her palm. There was a rush of indistinct murmuring in her mind before she felt those voices pushed forwards, towards the enemy. Amongst a cluster of the enemy there were sparkles of red followed by a blur of motion. Another dozen of the enemy suddenly went berserk, bounding from horse to horse like frogs, with incredible speed and power, slicing apart their former comrades as they moved. Arrows and blades struck them as they passed, but the crazed Dothraki ignored all wounds and continued on, relentlessly spreading carnage amongst the horse-savages as they went. Tiraen knew that once her spell waned the bewitched Dothraki too would die, overcome by exhaustion, wounds and movements that no human body should be able to attempt.
Those two spells were the last in an entire series, and she was feeling rather drained. She looked around for targets to draw blood from, but the Dothraki were currently regrouping themselves, so none were in range. Her own troops were close enough of course, but she would never use her leeching spell on them, no matter how bad things would get. She turned her head to Selia. She was standing there wide eyed, pale faced and quivering. Clearly the elf was unused to being in a battle. Not surprising, considering. Even so she met her owner's gaze quickly enough. Tiraen motioned for her to come forward and the elf darted toward her, the backpack in her hands. Perhaps Selia moved too fast, because she tripped on a corpse on the ground, the backpack hitting the ground with an alarming clink of glass.
"Careful, idiot! Those potion's are worth more than three of you!" Tiraen barked.
"I'm sorry, Mistress, I'm sorry!" Selia said hastily, offering her the backpack.
Tiraen reached into the backpack, feeling the vials inside. But there was no time to take one out to drink the contents. Because while she had been busy berating her slave, the Dothraki had charged again. The exhausted infantrymen gave away, many slain as the horse savages began to pour through the opening, spilling to attack the troops behind the Imperial line. This was very close to where she was, bringing imminent danger. And the breach in their line would need to be contained before the situation grew out of control.
There was no time to call on the heavy cavalry. There was no time to even drink a lyrium potion. Instead she swept her staff in a wide arc in front of her, a glowing semicircle drawn to the round in front of her. Then she thrust her staff towards the enemy, a cone of fire erupting from the ground. It moved forward, burning the dothraki caught in its path, finally stopping where the line had been broken, sealing the breach. Normal flames would have quickly abated on the sparse grass, but magical fire defied normal laws of nature and kept on burning, keeping the enemy at bay. Tiraen's horse neighed and backed up a bit at the sight of the fire. Tevinter warhorses had been taught to tolerate the sights and sounds of magic, but fire was an older, deeper fear.
That spell used up what reserves of magic she had to spend. She felt an ache in her bones, like after a hard day of travel or work. Only this one was far more intense, seeming to radiate from the very marrow of her skeleton. Accompanying that was a sudden craving for something, a thirst, but not for water. It was easy enough to guess what it was.
All these sensations were fierce enough that she briefly lost focus on everything else, the world shrinking away from her. When she regained herself she saw that while most of the dothraki were being kept at bay by her wall of fire, those that had made it past their line before it was cast remained. Her Kataphraktoi were moving forward to bring the fight to the enemy, but they were not here just yet. For now the fight belonged to whatever units in the vicinity that could distract themselves from holding back the main body of the horde. The enemy that had made it through weren't very numerous, but the Imperial assets were mainly missile troops, ill-suited to face them head on. The result was a brutal, desperate struggle. Pet was fighting amongst his chaos, a sharp shove from him knocking down a horse and a rider when she caught sight of him. Of Selia Tiraen saw no sign. She might have fled. But now was not the time to try finding the elf.
In addition to the troops of the enemy behind their line she noted with some alarm that her wall of fire was starting to wane. A mage was required to pour mana into it to keep it going. But she did not have enough to give right now. For the moment the spell could sustain itself, but that would not last long. She would need to reinforce the spell until reinforcements arrived to seal the gap. And she needed to help her troops defeat the enemy already in their midst. To do either she needed more power. She turned her eyes to look for the backpack, seeing it dropped at the feet of her horse.
She intended to dismount but before she could there was a shout: "RAARGH! MAEGIII!"
She turned her head and saw a dothraki horse jumping over the flames, the rider aiming a bow at her. Before she had a chance to do anything she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder, an arrow sticking out of it. With a pained shout she was knocked off the saddle by the impact, dragging her horse down with her. The horse picked itself up almost at once and ran away. Tiraen managed to get her foot off the stirrup just in time to avoid being dragged after the horse.
She lay on the ground, trying to rise to her feet. The arrow had sunk deep, restraining the movement of her left arm, complicating the effort of standing up. The dothraki had dismounted, drawing his bow again. The backpack with the lyrium potions was too far from her, so instead she raised her right arm to try her leeching spell, desperate to replenish her mana reserves. But even that spell required some mana to start with. When she tried to cast it the aching in her bone rose in intensity, to the point it became unbearable, her spell fizzling out. She saw her staff laying nearby and tried to reach for it next. But then a second arrow pierced her palm, putting an end to that attempt. She tried to clamber to her feet and move away, but the dothraki warrior had closed the distance by then, kicking her in the chest, leaving her sprawled on the ground. She looked for Pet, but could not see him anywhere in her field of vision. With the din of battle all around, he would have likely not heard her even if she called to him.
The wall of fire was dying out, the enemy starting to spill through the opening again. Her troops were responding as best they could, an intense fight raging near the breach. In the chaos what was happening to their legion's commander went completely unnoticed. None of her soldiers came to her aid. The dothraki stood over her and took aim for a third time. He options were exhausted. There was nothing she could do to stop him.
Before the dothraki could fire however, there was a shrill scream and Selia suddenly appeared running forward holding a who-knows-how acquired sword in front of her like a spear. Selia was obviously untrained and her attack was as clumsy as could be, but the horse-savage was caught just as much by surprise as Tiraen.
The sword was buried up to its hilt in his flank. As he stumbled onto his knees Selia freed the sword and slashed at his neck. As the dothraki fell onto his back, dead, the elf turned her eyes to Tiraen, bloodied sword in hand.
A wave of cold washed over Tiraen at that sight. Back home she had heard many stories of slaves turning on their owners at opportune moments, sometimes even managing to kill their masters. Selia had always been loyal though. And Tiraen believed she had treated her kindly. Until this very moment Tiraen could not picture Selia trying to hurt her. But something in the elf's eyes made less sure of that assessment now. And now if her slave wished to kill her, she had a unique opportunity to succeed. Injured, powers drained and with no weapons Tiraen was effectively defenseless. And with the chaos of battle she likely could get away with it too. She could kill her owner and be away before anyone had a chance of realizing she was missing. Likely no one would ever figure out who had killed Tiraen when so many likely candidates fought all around.
One look at Selia told Tiraen the elf understood all of this, was aware of the choice before her. The two locked eyes, an uncomfortable pause continuing for a single heartbeat, two. Then Selia's expression suddenly became frightened and she moved to drop the sword like it was red hot.
Tiraen released the breath she had been holding, feeling an overwhelming surge of relief. "Wait! You can keep the sword for now." She told Selia.
"Get the lyrium and help me up." She ordered.
Selia nodded hastily and ran over, grabbing the backpack as she passed it. She then helped Tiraen sit up and brought a lyrium potion to the mage's lips. Tiraen drank eagerly feelling a welcome surge of power as the blue liquid travelled down her throat.
Meanwhile her heavy cavalry was arriving to the breach, helping to stabilize the situation with mace, spear and bow.
Tiraen grimaced as her attention was drawn back to the arrows that had pierced her. She could not bear them in her any longer. She had to get them out. With some effort she managed to break the one in her palm and pull it out.
"Help with the other one. Get a good hold of it and take it out of me." She told Selia through clenched teeth.
"W-won't that just make it worse? It looks to be really deep in there." Selia said hesitantly.
"Nothing my powers won't be able to fix. Just get it out." Tiraen said.
Shuddering a little, Selia nodded and grasped the arrow with one hand, placing the other on Tiraen's shoulder for support. Tiraen suppressed a groan as she felt the arrow leave, tearing at her shoulder a bit more.
She quickly called up healing magic, blue light glowing on both her palms, sealing first the wound on her palm, then the one in her shoulder. Since her clothes were enchanted to never get dirty the only signs she had been hit at all were small holes in the fabric.
No longer injured Tiraen stood up and retrieved her staff. She looked around to get a better sense of the situation. Then she noticed one of her captains running forward, sword drawn. Running towards Selia. Selia who was currently armed with a sword.
Eyes widening, Tiraen realized what was about to happen.
"Stop! Stand down soldier!" She said, holding up her hands and placing herself between the soldier and her slave. "She carries that weapon with my permission. Don't hurt her."
The captain stopped. "Oh. Sorry My Lady. I wasn't aware she was permitted to have one."
"Usually she isn't. But these are unusual circumstances." She said.
"Report. Are our forces holding?" She then moved on.
"The immediate situation has been brought back under control. But we cannot keep this up for much longer. If the enemy doesn't relent it will only keep getting worse. We should consider withdrawing, to ensure the legion survives." Said the soldier.
"No! We will hold here for as long as we can. Not a step back." She said firmly.
"Magister Cato's ritual is underway. We just need to buy him more time. That is why we are here. Until he finishes we must…" She began to say. Then she abruptly stopped, turning her attention to the horizon, as did Selia and the officer. As in fact did every imperial soldier and mage on the battlefield. As did all of the Dothraki, the fighting coming to an abrupt halt. All of them had sensed the same thing.
In the distance, above the main body of the Dothraki horde, there was a ball of green light. The sphere was changing size rapidly. At one moment it was a tiny pinprick of light, at another it filled the skies, at another anything in between, without rhyme or reason between the changes. From the center of the sphere forks of green lightning were emanating, arching in all directions. There was a strange droning sound, like a huge swarm of insects. With every passing moment the sphere pulsated more rapidly, spitting out ever more lightning.
"Run…" Tiraen said breathlessly. She could feel the amount of magical energy emanating from the thing. Could feel the Veil straining and starting to fray. From the reactions of the others she could tell they were sensing this as well. That was the really frightening part. For non-mages to be able to sense a magical event at all, the power involved had to be…
The sphere stopped pulsating suddenly. There was no more lightning. The sphere hung there, perfectly round and glowing. A deathly silence lingered all around. Then a colossal thunderclap echoed in the air, and the orb began expanding seemingly uncontrollably, consuming everything in its path in a green-white inferno. The texture of the air around it… changed somehow, something melting away like snow before fire. Even at this distance she could feel a sudden wave of heat hit her.
"RUUN!" She said again, this time shouting at the top of her lungs.
"EVERYONE! FALL BACK! FALL BACK! GET OUT OH HERE! RETREAT!" The captain was shouting as loud as he could. The order was barely needed, as most Imperial forces were already routed, fleeing away from the destruction in total disarray. Had nothing remained of Dothraki cohesion they could have exploited this to terrifying effect. But they were just as shattered by the event as the Tevinters were. In truth their position was worse. The spell had started right in their midst, and now they were being consumed by it. The rest scattered, fleeing in all directions.
As her troops turned to flee, Tiraen lost sight of both Flavius and Selia. She happened to spot her horse running about in a panic nearby. The blood of the Dothraki Selia had slain was still fresh, so Tiraen used her spell to draw the blood to her. Then she snapped her fingers, creating a small shower of red sparks. There was a flash of red in the horse's eyes, and it suddenly halted, standing still.
As she ran to the horse she came across Pet. His towering form was just standing there, looking to her for instructions, perhaps the only living thing on this field not frightened in the slightest by what was happening. She motioned hastily towards the Tevinter encampment, putting one foot on the stirrup as she did. Pet nodded and set off at a jogging pace.
She had just managed to mount her horse when she heard a shout: "Mistress! Help me!"
She turned her head and saw Selia, panicked and dodging fleeing men and horses as she desperately tried to get away, without much success. Her weapon was gone from her hands, lost in the confusion. The elf would never make it out alive without help.
Tiraen paused briefly, then came to a decision, spurring her horse towards the elf. Upon reaching her Tiraen grabbed hold of the elf and pulled her onto the saddle.
Carried by the horse the two fled in the direction of the Tevinter camp. Around them the world slipped further and further into chaos. The veil was torn, so demons of every description were appearing all over the place, slaughtering everything they came across. Overhead what looked like sheets of green fire moved. But these were not normal flames. Normal fire did not move with malicious intent, swooping down like birds of prey to immolate clusters of fleeing people, then ascend up to the skies again in search of fresh prey.
As they galloped past these scenes of destruction, Selia was quivering, pressing her face to the mane of the horse.
"Maker save me, Maker save me." She whimpered over and over again.
"There is no Maker here! Just hold on!" Tiraen replied, destroying a rage demon with a blast of cold. She was scared too of course. But she had long since learned to channel that fear into to purpose, to let it make her hyper focused and efficient. She had combat training and experience on her side and her powers to rely upon. She knew what to do.
They rode on, Tiraen blasting demons and Dothraki that crossed their path, doing what she could to protect her troops as they retreated.