Chapter Twelve: The Iron Bull
There were about forty or so prisoners, including Ser Duval. Dealing with them took hours.
First, we had the wounded brought to Armen for healing. Twenty two of them were what we would call "temporarily combat ineffective" back home, but they were all salvageable. They'd all return to full bodily function in no time. Anyone who had lost a limb or had been hit with more than a glancing blow from the mines was already dead. The mage seemed to have absolutely no problem with displaying his magical talent in front of the prisoners or Ciara, the former requiring his assistance too much to care. The latter apparently had him figured out almost as soon as she had met him, as she didn't react at all when he started the glowing hand routine.
While Armen and Ciara saw to the injured, Julie, Tam and I were busy putting the other prisoners to work. We had them strip the dead of armour and weapons, dividing them into two piles, one for the useful stuff that wasn't too smashed up and one for the shredded items. We had no shortage of chainmail by midnight, that was for sure. Which improved Julie's mood to no end as she plotted to sell it at cut-rate prices when we arrived back in Hearth. Entrepreneur that she is.
I picked up the mace of Dark Mask, as it was the most familiar sort of melee weapon to me. I could use a knife and by extension a short sword, but most of the blades laying about were long, heavier than I was used to. The mace worked because it was pretty much just a metal baton with flanges, and I had trained to use batons extensively for riot control. I added a kite shield with a lion etched onto it as well, for the same reason. Tam had no such issues however, and got herself a fairly substantial one-hander to swing about.
Once all of that was complete, we gathered the bodies and built a large pyre at the roadside. As is traditional under the Andrastian faith, we burned them. Julie sang a chant for the dead, as the flames took the flesh away. She is quite a good singer, but I couldn't stomach sticking around for more than a minute. The smell reminded me too much of Fraser's squad being torched by the fire wyrm. When the embers began to die, I handed one of the casks of ale to the prisoners. They appreciated the gesture, but their eyes were still full of hate. That had me checking my weapons, to be sure I'd be ready if I needed them.
The men-at-arms ate separately, as I invited Duval to eat from the ration packs with Julie and Tam. More of the curried chicken, no less, though we removed it from the containers after cooking it to avoid suspicion. I wanted answers as usual, and a little open bribery never hurt.
"Well then, Ser Milo Duval," I said, "What do you know of me?"
The chevalier had just removed his mask to tuck into his meal, revealing a scarred but kind face and cleanly cut black hair. He looked at me in confusion for a moment.
"What do you mean?" he said.
"Why were you chasing us?" I asked, clarifying in a way that made it clear that I would allow no dodging of the subject.
"We weren't, at least not originally," Duval replied, "When we heard you were on royal business, and that you killed a man in the street for getting in your way, we assumed you were doing something very important for Celene. Perhaps negotiations with the elves, or something to do with the mages. We intended to stop you, on our way to our true task."
"Bet you didn't expect to lose," Julie said, clearly amused. She hates the whole order of chevaliers, so it was quite like her to make them squirm.
"No, we did not," Duval said sadly, "I fear more will die as a result."
What he meant by that, I did not know, but first I needed to assure him of my neutrality in whatever conflict over the throne of Orlais was brewing. It wasn't open war yet at this stage, that only came nearly a year and a half later, but the pieces were beginning to move into place towards that. Questions about what he was actually doing could come after.
"Well, I am not from Orlais. I do not care about your feuds," I said, "In fact, a chevalier loyal to Celene almost managed to have me executed, so both of your would-be masters are equally and squarely on my shitlist."
"What about the man you killed in the street in her name?" he said, "Was that simply murder?" An unexpected question to say the least. I had no good answer for it. I could hardly tell him the story of the huntsman and Goldie, because that would require telling about the dragon slaying incident. The question of how I killed a dragon would lead straight to my weaponry, which he already thought were of Qunari design. I had no intention of dissuading him of that opinion. My mind raced to come up with a suitable reply, but I was already covered.
"He was an agent of that chevalier," said Tam quickly, "I killed him after he threatened us and stole some valuables." Duval accepted that without further question, sending a shiver down my spine. I had a sneaking idea that this sort of intrigue was a lot more commonplace than I had first thought. Of course, intrigue is the lifeblood of Orlais, and not just among chevaliers.
"Are things so bad here that the subordinates of each side are already attacking each other?" I asked.
"It is a dance before battle, nothing more," Duval said, "Gaspard is a warrior, if something does not happen to put him on the throne within the next few years, he will put himself there by the sword. In the mean time, we dance for position and prestige, on behalf of our betters. I am sorry that you have crossed into this, but you have already proven yourself quite adept at survival, I can see."
That was true only because I had vastly superior weapons, which were in limited supply. I had already used pretty much all of the "Claymore" explosives in destroying Duval's troops, and while I had other types, they were among the most useful. There were any number of occasions later that I would have sold my kidney to have some more. What few I had left came in very handy indeed.
"Your squabbles weaken your country," said Tam. If understatement were a country, Tam would be Empress. Who the hell plots a civil war when another war is already on? Orlesian nobility, that's who.
"I know, but squabbles are all that Orlais has now," replied Duval, "This is why I support Gaspard. He would clear away the fat do-nothings that have gotten in the way of Orlais' true glory." I pondered that, as it didn't sound entirely like a bad idea to me. If it could be done without the warring, it was a decent enough cause. Except it wasn't, because it wouldn't stop there.
"He would also invade Ferelden and the Free Marches," rebuked Julie, "Sending us into a bloody war, while the mages create anarchy and the crown does nothing." Her accent was considerably more pronounced while angry, I noticed.
"I thought your friend said you did not have a side," bristled Duval.
"Celene can go to the Void too," Julie growled, "Between the two of them, I wouldn't trust that they could run a brothel, never mind a country. They don't care about anyone but their court." She never was big on the blue bloods, even before she was exposed to Paine and Jefferson.
The chevalier laughed at her assertion, as if it was preposterous. The three of us just looked on, a little startled. I had half-expected him to ask for his sword back so he could duel Julie for the insult, but instead he had a good chuckle. Though I'm not sure one can legally duel a lady who isn't a knight in Orlais. I must ask someone.
"What if I told you that I did care?" he said, with a smile, "And that a threat beyond mere bandits is lurking two days' march from here."
My eyebrow raised at that. Just how damned dangerous was the road south? I'm not sure you can call a country by that title until a person can at least travel unmolested by maniacs and thieves. Otherwise, it is just a tool for thievery itself, albeit on a grander scale. I wasn't the only one with doubts.
"What threat?" scoffed Julie, "Is the pastry supply threatened?" I grinned at that.
"Sylvans," said Duval, "A problem to more than my chef, wouldn't you agree?"
The circle went deathly quite, Julie's face admitting defeat on the matter. Tam's eyes narrowed and she frowned. The mood had gone from heated to ominous in a second, and I was getting rather tired of the bad surprises.
"What is a sylvan?" I asked wearily.
"You do not have such creatures in the Far West?" Duval responded, quite surprised.
"Not one," I replied, "It's not the only thing we're missing either, I wouldn't think too much about it."
"Sylvan is the elf word for a possessed tree," Tam explained, "They're very dangerous, as they can walk around, attack people and use nature magicks. Usually show up near battlefields, there were a few of them on Seheron."
"There were a lot near here during the Blight," Julie added, with a frown, "I remember the townspeople fighting them off."
"We think these are remnants from the Blight itself," said Duval, "They stand around as trees until something disturbs them. There has been a lot of bandit activity lately, we think someone came across them and drew them towards the south road."
I snorted my amusement. Tree demons? Nonsense, I thought. Even if they were real, how big a threat could they be? The others didn't appreciate my levity, at any rate. Also, if you're wondering why I didn't immediately launch into questions about the Blight, I should probably inform you that "blight" has a different meaning on Earth, referring only to a particular type of famine. No darkspawn, thank God.
"Ents with anger management issues?" I said, "I swear, you are just playing jokes on me now." Another fictional species to fray my nerves. If I could slap Tolkien, I would. Thedas has far too many of that sort.
"Ents? Is this what you call them? They are no joke, Marquis," Duval said sternly, "They are attacking people and caravans on the road." Good use of my rank to disagree with me while seeming polite about it, if I do say so myself.
I frowned at the man. I guess I believed the story, it was somewhat easy to as I had already encountered dragons, elves and a mage. It was the idea of a tree being any threat to a person that was the sticking point. Even if they could move about and grab things, people would be more mobile. Even our overloaded cart should have been able to breeze through without a problem, I thought. And nature magic? What was it going to do, spray me with pollen? I was immune to any such nonsense anyway.
"So, you were going to take your hundred men-at-arms south to face these things," I said, "I presume they're not that easy to kill?"
"We were to meet with a mercenary company, who have more experience with this sort of problem, or so they say," Duval corrected, "Maker only knows if they'll survive now."
I breathed deeply, as the inevitable sense of guilt about it all hit me. Assuming it was all true, it meant that anyone hurt or killed would be my responsibility, because I had already put the troops sent to save them to the sword. The buck would stop with me. The temptation to crack open the Earth liquors rode over me as I came to the inevitable conclusion. Conscience can really put the hurt on you if you're not careful.
"I was going to tie you all up and run as hard as I could away... but this changes things," I sighed, "Assuming your men are willing, we will come with you to stop these … sylvans."
Duval looked genuinely surprised at that, his eyebrows arching and his demeanour softening considerably. He wasn't the only one. Julie stopped eating and glanced over with an inquisitive look. Probably because I had just volunteered her for a dangerous task without asking, and wanted to know why. Or perhaps she thought it was a good idea, but was curious as to my reasoning. Tam wore no expression but watched, which I had learned a few hours before to take as her own sign of interest.
"Look, I can't tell you the whole truth of who I am and where I'm from," I admitted, "But because of what I have done, you can't fight those things and folk are in trouble. I'm not going to have their deaths on my conscience as well as those of your men. So, we go take on these trees, and then we part ways as if we never met."
Duval smiled. "I do not think it will be possible for me to forget that we met. I was rather hoping to ask you about your homeland," he laughed, "You are a bizarre, yet interesting person." Said the man who has to wear a mask in public. He wasn't that ugly.
"I'm a foreigner, of course I am strange to you," I replied, "But if I help you out with this, I expect your discretion."
"Then you shall have it," Duval said, "After all, your friend there killed my half-brother, I owe you a debt."
"Your half-brother?" I said, "Who was that?"
"The one who choked on his own blood," he replied, "He deserved it, very much."
The Great Game of Orlais is truly vicious, although I suppose there could have been more personal circumstances to explain Duval's glee at his sibling's death. I'm fairly sure I would feel more ambiguous about the death of my brother, bastard or not. The man's words reminded me of who I needed to speak to next, of course.
I picked up the man's ornate sword in its scabbard, and handed it back to him. He accepted it graciously, and put it quickly on his belt. We finished our meals, and Ser Duval returned to his troops to deliver the news. As both of them seemed to approve of our new mission, I asked Julie and Tam to set up the sleeping bags on top of the cart, while I went to deal with another problem.
The sight of the wounded was much improved, I noticed, compared with when we had first moved them to the top of the hill. Open wounds were closed and fresh scars had replaced them. Those who were barely conscious an hour ago were now fully so. So to say I was amazed would be insufficient. The medicines and surgeries of Earth can accomplish many things that magic cannot, but sealing and healing would-be lethal wounds instantly was not among them when I left. I do not doubt that my fellow countrymen have such science now, if they have survived these past decades, but it remains a wonder to me. Armen was sat on top of a rock, resting from the exertion of the process, while Ciara distributed their own waterskins to the patients.
"Now it's my turn to be amazed," I said to him, nodding to the laying men and women, "It would require stitches, pills, and weeks to save them without magic. You've done it in a couple of hours."
"They're not healed yet," Armen replied with a smile, "I must continue to heal them during the night to keep the fevers from killing them, or else they will still die. Not an easy death, either."
I looked again, and he wasn't wrong. Every single one of the formerly injured seemed to be sweating, their faces soaking. It was a sign of infection, and that their bodies were fighting it.
"They're infected," I said, "We need anti-biotics."
"Infected with what?" asked Armen, alarmed.
"Germs, microbes," I replied, "You did clean the wounds, right?"
"As best I could," Armen replied, "That is an usual step though, as it helps with the fevers. What are germs?"
I opened my mouth to answer that question, but closed it again. I came up short on how to explain about infections. The biology books that came with me from Earth helped explain later, but I couldn't just say that tiny little creatures that you can't see cause disease. It's all well-known now, germ theory and that. I just shook my head. I had some anti-biotics on hand from the medical kits, but nowhere near enough for the wounded.
"Never mind," I said, "Just take care of them, we're moving out with the group to fight some trouble down the road."
"Trouble?" Armen asked, "We're going to fight alongside them after they hunted us and tried to kill us?"
"Well, when magical trees are threatening people on the road we need to travel on, it's wise to have a few more bodies to throw at them," I said, "Sylvans, or so I'm told."
"Who told you there were sylvans in our way?" asked Armen harshly.
"Ser Duval of whateveritis," I replied.
"What if he's lying so he can capture us?" the mage said, "There are still forty of them."
"He's afraid of us, and he respects me for taking his surrender. I can see it his eyes," I replied, "And if they turn on us, we can still kill them a lot more easily than they can kill us."
Armen grumbled at that, clearly agreeing that we could indeed lay our guests low with ease, but still unhappy about the arrangement. Afraid they'd call the Templars, if his mumbled words were any evidence. It was a fair thing to be worried about. However, he himself had already said that it would take something major to get the Templars to send any real force to the region, beyond Halamshiral's Circle rebelling like so many others. Besides, I had a feeling Duval was a man of his word. The smell of chivalry hung around him. Like he took pride in being noble.
"Anyway, I need to speak to Ciara," I said, "Unless you want to tell me where she learned to use a dagger like that?" She wasn't quite on Tam's level, but she was good enough to dodge a mace and then kill a man in about two seconds.
"She wants to talk to you too," the mage smiled, "Your weapons impressed her."
"Glad I'm so popular," I frowned, "Where is she?"
A hand landed on my shoulder with a playful slap. I groaned, and turned around. Ciara was standing behind me, inevitably, her long blonde hair down now. The dagger was tucked under her belt at her belly, and my eyes found it quickly. I was wary, and took a step back.
"I'm right here," said Ciara, smiling innocently, "What do you want?"
"I want to know where you learned to kill a man like that, is all," I said, "Not here to conduct an inquisition."
My two elven companions looked at each other like I had said something strange. Which I had, in mentioning the Inquisition. At that point, it was an arcane piece of history, not the powerful organisation we know today, which made my expression bizarre to them. I just waited for them to answer.
"She's Dalish," said Armen, joining the two of us after wiping down his hands.
"Armen, try to remember where I'm from," I said. Dalish? Might as well have been Martian, for all that meant to me.
"Another world, right," scoffed Ciara, "Do you tell all the girls that?"
A chuckle forced its way out of my throat at that, despite the cat being out of the bag. Contrary to my expectations, I didn't have the urge to hit Armen for giving away my secret. If anything, Ciara's scepticism made me think she was a little more useful than she had been letting on. Apparently, she had come to the conclusion that she could speak to me as an equal, as the rest of our group did. Smart woman.
"Only the pretty ones," I replied finally, "Works every time." Ciara laughed herself at that.
"Without going into too much history, all of this land used to belong to elves," said Armen, interrupting to explain, "Humans invaded for … complicated reasons, and defeated the elves. Gave them two choices, either convert to Andrastianism or die. Those who chose the first option became the city elves, like I used to be. Those who chose the other one fled to the woods, and became the Dalish."
More death and misery. I was beginning to feel right at home, almost glad that Earth wasn't the only place with a violent history. No wonder 'pureblood' humans feel so superior, they won the war. My own people still rub it in with the Germans, although it's mostly a joke now. Don't mention the war.
"We're skilled hunters," Ciara added, "And we often have to fight off attacks from the shems, so we learn how quick."
"Shems?" I asked.
"Shemlen," said Ciara, "Means quick children, in your language. Our word for humans. We used to be immortal, see."
"So I've heard," I said, "So Armen told you that I come from another world, and you don't believe him?" I was actually surprised she didn't trust him enough to take his word for it. Particularly after what I had shown her.
"I don't believe things unless I see them for myself," Ciara smiled, "Sorry." I nodded. It was a fair enough position to take. And I had photographic proof of my world, so it wasn't an issue.
"Armen, show her the picture book while you watch our prisoners. I'll make a believer out of you yet, Ciara," I said, "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to join the others to sleep."
"You're sleeping with both of them, aren't you," said Armen flatly, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. I snorted at the rhetorical question.
"It's probably more accurate to say that Tam and I are keeping Julie company," I said, yawning, "No complaints though." None whatsoever. Still none.
"You really are a noble," said Ciara, implying exactly what DeSelle had been complaining about. Unable to respond without looking somewhat like a hypocrite, I just shrugged, and left. I was too tired to care.
The next few days were largely uneventful, and they were pure bliss for that reason alone.
I woke up on our wagon, completely refreshed. Not by the sensation of Tam's horns stabbing me in the chest either, she had opted to sleep on Julie's stomach this time, while I had taken her shoulder. Had to brush both red-brown and silver-gold hair out of my face as I woke. I was enthralled by the sight of the two of them for several minutes, but in the end, I nudged them to open their eyes. We had to get moving quickly.
While they woke up slowly, rubbing their eyes, I found Ser Duval already awake and organising his troops. We nodded to each other, not needing to say anything. We understood each other, as leaders of soldiers. And to think we were trying to kill each other less than twenty four hours before. He was the first reasonable person I met in Thedas. Armen didn't count because he was a mage, Ciara was stubborn and chirpy, Tam was … well, Qunari, and Julie didn't count because she's a step above all of us. So, the honour went to Milo Duval. Of the Exalted Plains. Wherever that was.
Twenty four of Duval's men-at-arms would be joining us, the rest would camp on the hill until a messenger could reach Gethran's Crossing to fetch carts for those who couldn't walk yet. To his credit, the noble had his troops swear to him that they would not speak of how their fellows had died. As far as they were all concerned, the sylvans had killed the unfortunate bastards. I heartily approved, having no need to draw attention to my weaponry. Those who were going to stay behind seemed perfectly happy to agree to this, though it might have had something to do with a cranky Tam wandering about.
We had a quick breakfast of dried foods from my ration packs, which we were depleting very quickly by this stage. Armen and Ciara were utterly exhausted, and collapsed into the still-warm sleeping bags on the wagon as soon as we got it off the hillside. Ciara kept stealing glances at me, but she was so tired that she couldn't turn away fast enough to escape my notice and I myself couldn't figure out what she was thinking. In the end, our journey began without her questioning of my very existence. Which was actually a little disappointing, as I had grown used to being an object of interest. In fact, she never brought it up again in conversation, unless it was immediately relevant.
The few horses that Duval had brought with him had been caught again, allowing himself and his sergeants to ride in front of our cart, following the troops along the road. We took up the rear, where I could bring my firelance to bear on anyone having second thoughts about our temporary alliance. Tam mounted Fritz again, while Julie and I took turns on the reins holding Bob and Lucky, practising my wagon driving. I wasn't very good, but Julie kept us on the road with a corrective tug here and there.
The next two days were uneventful, as I said.
We travelled slower than we would have done otherwise, but not by much. The surviving men-at-arms were old hands at the marching about business, I could tell, even if they were essentially just hired thugs compared with the discipline of what I consider to be a soldier. I was grateful for the speed. Every step was one further away from Halamshiral and Orlais' nutjob justice system.
We made a solid twenty miles on both days by my reckoning, passing by another three villages and following the river. Every hour, we'd stop for a half-hour. I would watch our friends closely, with Tam and Julie sitting beside each other leaning their backs on mine. Julie would read, and Tam would interject as she was trying to learn how to read the Latin alphabet. I guess they both wanted to know more about Earth before showing up there. Armen and Ciara snored in each other's arms from the back of the wagon during the day, snuggled up in the mage's robes, and kept a close watch at night. It was nauseating and adorable in equal measure, though I suppose people could have said the same about my new interests. I wouldn't really speak to them until after we arrived at Hearth, due to their new nocturnalism. Duval and his people kept to themselves as well, for the obvious reason. There was still resentment in camp.
We arrived at our expected destination in the mid-morning of the third day, after about an hour's march from our night camp. I knew we were close when Duval put his mask back on, despite what I assumed was summer heat, and ordered his people to close ranks from their marching column at a crossroads. The trees around us were old and twisted, lacking a lot of their leaves, and there wasn't a lot of other foliage. No bushes and very little grass. The mud was exposed. That was a warning sign in itself, but I was ignorant of it.
I hopped down from the wagon with Julie, and made our way to Duval. Tam dismounted and stayed put, longbow off of her back and arrows threaded between her fingers. She was also on alert, which alarmed me. I turned to Julie, but found her perfectly calm, if a little curious as to what was going on. I frowned, not sure what to make of the situation.
"What now?" I asked, as his people made ready to fight. A profuse number of axes appeared, which struck me as quite a smart choice against trees. I slung my firelance, as I waited for him to speak. Duval didn't answer for a moment, but turned his head from side to side, scanning the woods around us.
"Now we fight, Marquis," he said, relishing the idea.
"What about your mercenaries?" I said, looking around for them. Not another soul in sight. I was beginning to worry.
"Do you not smell that?" he said, ignoring my question. I inhaled through my nose, and sure enough, there was a trace of something unusual. There was a burning smell mixed in with the dry dirt smell that had hung around since dawn. Someone was torching wood. I scanned the horizon carefully for the source, and found smoke rising from the west. A shot of fear went through me, as I realised the fumes were close and looked to be moving closer.
"That way, Duval!" I shouted, pointing, "Julie, Tam, with me."
The men-at-arms flinched, before their leader ordered them to turn and close ranks again in the direction I had indicated. Julie paced alongside me as I returned to the wagon, trepidation on her face.
"What's wrong?" she asked, "Did you spot a sylvan?" I wasn't sure what was making the smoke, but I had seen it come at me before. What followed wasn't a walking tree, that was for sure. I needed to be ready for the worst.
"Something is setting fire to the woods and its getting closer," I said, "Dragon, maybe."
Julie's face dropped at that. Tam, overhearing my words, wasn't amused either. The most fearsome creature in all of creation, as far as I knew, was coming for us. Coming for me again, I should say. Understanding their feelings on the subject completely, I made my way to the back of the wagon, climbed up and gave Armen a soft kick to wake him.
"Get up, we're going to need you," I said, "And I need something from under you."
"What's wrong?" mumbled Ciara, jarred from the impact I had delivered to Armen's side.
"Dragon, maybe," I said, deciding that keeping it simple was best. The Dalish girl's eyes opened to the size of chicken's eggs, and she hopped out of the wagon with her bag. At least one of them was on the ball, at least. Armen simply looked up at me with scepticism, as I tossed sleeping bags out of the way to get at the box below.
"A dragon, are you sure?" he said.
"Well, unless the mercenaries we've heard so much about have flamethrowers, there's a lot more fire around than there should be," I said, not bothering to explain what the hell a flamethrower was exactly. The name tends to be enough explanation if you want people to move quickly, I find. Armen craned his neck to look around at the sky, and soon spotted what I had already.
"It could be a mage," he said, as I undid the clasps of the metal box beside him and opened it.
"Not taking a chance," I replied. I unwrapped my second and only remaining rocket launcher from one of the blankets we had stolen from the prison, and checked it. There didn't seem to be any damage, to my immense relief. Julie looked at it with gleaming green eyes, indicating that she was very interested in the device.
"What is that?" she asked, seeming to forget about the threat. I smiled slightly, cheered by her indomitable curiosity. I held the thing out for her to see, once I was sure the safety remained on.
"It's the weapon I used to kill the dragon," I replied, "Well, actually, it's a similar weapon." Explaining the difference between a rocket designed to blow up giant metal war machines and a rocket designed to blow up the equivalent of castle-keeps would have been redundant then, I suspected. Less so today, but it's been decades.
"Yet another marvel of devastation.." muttered Armen, his smile on his face but his tone dark with disappointment. If I were an arms-dealer, I suspect I could have lived out the rest of my days in complete luxury courtesy of his friends. If the way he used to talk about their need was any indication. Of course, he was dead right about their need. Templars are bastards without a doubt, but they are heavily armed bastards at the best of times.
Julie glanced around at the soldiers and the ever-approaching evidence of fire, and stowed her questions for later, her practicality and probably a little fear overriding her need to know at that moment. She tied her long hair back and put her helmet on, before checking the handcannon. I had shown her the essentials other than how to fire it safely, and she was immediately proficient. Her unusual memory playing its part.
Glad that the danger was understood, I tossed Tam her own helmet as Armen and Ciara began up-armouring too. I unslung my firelance again and placed the rocket on my back, before gathering up my freshly looted kite shield and strapping it to my belt on the other side to the mace.
"Okay, here's the plan," I said, "Tam and Armen, you stay back and hit … whatever it is with what you can."
"What about me?" asked Ciara.
"If you can swing an axe, you're with Julie up front. Try not to get burned alive," I replied, "As for me, I'll be around." Trying to get the best shot at the dragon I imagined was coming. It would have been the only chance to stop it, in my mind. If it saw me before I could get a clear shot as its side, I reckoned I'd be dead. Julie had considered this too.
"If we're up front, how are we supposed to stay alive?" she asked with a frown, "Won't it just kill us? If it is a dragon, that is."
"Don't worry, I won't let that happen," I said firmly, "It won't see you until I'm able to kill it, that's what these are for." I slapped my combat webbing where the smoke grenades were, and marched forward along the dirt road to Duval again. He nodded to me when I drew level, and I motioned for him to dismount. He did so quickly.
"I'm going to conceal us behind some smoke, make sure your men are ready to hit whatever comes at us when it comes through," I warned, "You might also want to stay off your horse."
"Behind smoke?" he asked, mask tilting with his head at the notion.
Instead of answering him, I walked past the shieldwall formed along the edge of the road and about ten paces into the forest. I peered through it as best I could. There was movement ahead, but I couldn't pick out what it was yet. Not wanting to wait to find out, I tossed out all four smoke grenades I had on my webbing in a wide arc.
When I was sure I had got enough coverage, I ran back to our little alliance. To my relief, Armen had driven the wagon and Fritz to the back, and stood on top of it with Tam so he could unleash his abilities over the heads of the men-at-arms. He gave me a small wave, as he leaned on his spear-like staff. I waved back, and flicked the selector on my firelance from safe to semi-automatic. Automatic wouldn't do shit, I had learned that at the crash site, but accurate fire to the eyes was a different story.
I joined Julie and Ciara beside Duval's militia. The latter had taken up an axe in her right hand, and held her straight dagger in the other. She looked at me for a moment, before turning her attention back to the wall of smoke. She was grateful to me for bringing her along, I could tell, but she hadn't expected to get into a situation like this. I remember thinking that maybe she'd be happier on Earth.
"Later, you're going to explain how you made that too," smiled Julie, flicking her head at the smoke.
"What do I get in return?" I said, trying to distract myself.
"Oh, I'll think of something," she said cheerily, leaving no doubts as to what she meant by that. I was genuinely looking forward to it.
Until a shrill shriek erupted from the front of us, sending a wave of fear through the ranks beside us. They backed off slightly, which set me off. No way I was facing this crap alone.
"Hold your position, or you're all dead," I shouted at them. No way they were going to be able to fight a dragon or walking trees with magic unless they could get close enough to strike. Doubt they could have outrun whatever it was anyway. They seemed to recognise this, and took a bold step forwards at the behest of their sergeant. Praise the Lord, I thought, someone with a spine. Right on time too, as the thudding started about three seconds either. I was very displeased at the development. I brought the firelance's sights to my eye, and snapped off a few shots into the smoke, to draw whatever it was in. The thudding stopped for a moment.
"Stay here," I said to Julie, "Mind her."
I pointed at Ciara, who frowned at me. She looked about Sixteen to me, in fairness, which wasn't far off the actual mark. Then again, Armen looked about the same, which was only a slightly harsh guess. If it wasn't for the magic and daggerwork, I would have treated both like kids. Regardless, Julie gave me another grin and smiled, infuriating the young she-elf as I stalked off into the smoke again.
The thudding started again.
On well-honed reflex, I ducked behind a large tree in the middle of the obscured area, heart pumping away as you would expect. I looked from right to left around the trunk, the barrel of my weapon following my move. There was some shouting in the distance now too. Was it the mercenaries, or some poor souls stumbling around the forest for game?
"There are voices up ahead," I said over the radio, "Can one of you ask Duval how many mercenaries were there?"
Before the answer came, I saw it. The first of many.
It was... well, it was a tree. Bark, roots, branches. Except the roots were formed into large feet, the branches twisted together like sinews into powerful looking arms, and the bark formed a face unlike anything I had ever seen before at the top of the trunk, forming a head. The face was an incomprehensibly angry one, appearing to me as something you'd see on a psychotic killer taking his revenge. Unsurprising in retrospect. Rage demons are usually what possess trees. I was just happy it wasn't a dragon.
I reacted like you would expect. I opened fire on the thing.
I squeezed the trigger repeatedly, each time making my mark with ease. My firelance strobed through the smoke, the bullets entered the thing's skin, sap dropping out of every hole. Splinters flew off in every direction too. To my horror, my weapon barely slowed the thing down. If anything, it seemed more angry. It didn't move quickly, for which I am thankful every day, but it wasn't alone either. More things that I had thought were just trees began their march towards me. I groaned with exasperation at the sight.
Realising I needed to get back to the group, as my own companions were constantly asking what was going on in my ear, I went with my gut. I snatched a lethal grenade off my combat webbing, tossed it at the closest sylvan and ran off without waiting for the bang. Three seconds later, I was back in sight of the others and there was a nice boom accompanied satisfying screech of pain. I emerged from the smoke entirely, and back to Julie.
"This thing isn't so good against trees," I growled quietly putting the firelance away, "I should have guessed."
"Not a dragon. Well then... I good thing I have an axe," she said slowly, "Armen, I hope you're ready with your Fade-fire."
As if to test our mage, the first sylvan appeared from the smoke and rushed the line of shields, roaring at a high pitch as it did so.
Thankfully, Armen passed the test with flying colours. He sent a spiralling burst of fire bolts flying through the air from the tip of his staff, waving it about like a parade baton from the bench of the wagon. They cruised over the tops of the startled men-at-arms' heads and impacted at various points on the slyvan's body. I was surprised by his speed at summoning them. But not as surprised as the walking tree, which caught fire at a very satisfactory rate at various patches on its body. It tumbled to the ground, trying to roll around to put the fire out, screeching again as it did so.
"Charge!" ordered Duval.
The militia charged forward, axes raised. They covered the ten paces as quickly as you'd expect, and began taking chunks out of the slyvan, hacking parts away before it could get up. The screeching got quieter, and died with the possessed thing. I was just glad that they could be killed that easily, having stood back to see what would happen. I should have destroyed my lungs shouting at them to withdraw, and that failure would cost more lives.
More thudding signalled the arrival of more of its fellows, and Duval ordered the troops to form the line again quickly. Too late. The sylvans waded from the smoke into the disorganised troops with a vengeance, slapping them aside. There were almost as many of the damned things as there were opponents to fight them. The men were rolled over like bowling pins, knocked aside with whips of gathered branches or kicked like a football. Once they were down, the trees began stamping down hard on the fallen, catching three or four before they could roll away. The result was... extremely un-pretty.
I emptied my firelance into the damn things as I backed off, Julie doing the same with her handcannon while she dragged a stunned Ciara backwards too. There wasn't any time for feeling anything, or at least for remembering later how I felt at that moment. It was true fight or flight. We chose the former. So did the others. Duval and a group charged the front sylvan, getting under its swing and hacking at its knees. Which wasn't a bad idea. Others tosses torches covered with pitch at the others, catching a few on fire. Armen followed suit with his magic, and Tam's arrows seemed to bother them greatly. She had poisoned them, I would later find out, with her vitaar paint.
Both our firearms clicked at us, complaining about a lack of ammunition. Just as two of the damn ents waddled towards us. Julie and I looked at each other. We knew what we had to do. Lacking any other good ideas, we drew our melee weapons and charged. It was stupid. I wasn't an expert on arcane crap at this point, so I had no real idea how to fight things like that. We would have died if it wasn't for a particular circumstance, that will become apparent. Julie went for the one on the left, and I the one on the right. Hers was larger, but mine guarded the way to the rest of the fight. They halted, and took the charge head on.
I rammed shield first into the sylvan's leg, and to my utter astonishment, the roots composing it fell apart. Unravelled and limp. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I came alongside the body, which was still very much possessed. As the arms flailed at me, I slammed my mace into it. The wood broke before the metal easily. Too easily. It was like hitting paper, or cheesecake. Best comparison I have would be styrofoam, but no one here knows what that is. Parts of it simply crumbled away where I hit, flaking off the trunk of what used to be the tree. I didn't think it unusual in particular until the demon inside the tree died, because only then did the wood become as hard as it normally would be.
I stopped dead for the briefest moment, realising what had happened. Until the sounds of fighting beside me reached my ears. I turned to see if Julie was alright. She had been joined by Ciara, with her hatchet. They had disabled the other one. I strode over the corpse of my first victim, and swiped at the head of the still-struggling second. The whole top off of the sylvan came clean off with the motion, and I hadn't even put much effort into it. The wood fell still, and creaked as it returned to its fully natural shape.
Julie and Ciara looked at me like I had accomplished an amazing magic trick. Which is actually a pretty good way to put it, though it's more of an anti-magic trick.
"What did you do?" said Ciara.
"I think I know," I said, "No time to talk."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the rest of the fight was going badly. Tam had hit possibly as many as ten of the sylvans, and slowed them down, but she was almost out of arrows. Armen was looking ragged, at the end of his tether. He had only had an hour's sleep before we woke him, after all, and apparently that affects a mage's power. Problem was it took at least two ordinary axemen to down one of the demons, and even on the ground, they could kill with ease and they did. At least four men I could see were laying dead in the mud.
I decided to conduct an experiment into what I seemed to be able to do. So I charged headlong for Duval. He was in more than a little trouble, caught with two others between four of the sylvans.
As one of the creatures impaled the woman to the chevalier's right, I ran at full sprint into the back of the offending tree-monster, shield raised. I had expected to push it down like the first one I had killed. Instead, it simply splintered apart. Collapsed in pieces with a moan. Which would have been excellent, except it put me off balance. Right between the three other sylvans and Duval.
A branch whipped across my back hard in retaliation. It would have been a lethal blow, despite the branch itself breaking on impact. The sylvan and I looked at each other in confusion. I mentally promised to personally buy the manufacturer of my armour a drink if I ever got back to Earth, before parrying a second blow from the side with my mace. The tree's other arm shattered with the hit, it was now armless. Which was amusing.
The others were actually backing off, to my great surprise and pleasure. Either afraid or not knowing what the hell I was doing that made it so easy for me to kill them. I had to say it.
"Only a flesh wound?" I asked, with a snear. The sylvan shrieked at me, in a tone I can only describe as frustration. A black arrow hissed into the wood, and the creature fell. Tam had found her mark again. I kicked the thing to finish it off, and it fell apart just as easily as if I had hit it with my shield or mace. My experiment was complete. I had a theory.
I looked up to find the entire pack of sylvans, the maybe ten of them left, staring at me. My confidence vaporised, and I took up a defensive stance. Julie pulled her axe out of the third sylvan, having half-decapitated it using my little show as a distraction, and made her way over to me. So did the remaining men-at-arms, using the opportunity to escape to safety. For the moment.
"They're going to attack at once," said Duval.
"No, they're going to start dancing," replied Julie through her teeth.
"Leave Captain Obvious alone," I said, "Get ready." It turns out we didn't need to.
It started with five or six of the sylvans bursting into flames. At first, I thought it was Armen playing with some cool magic of his, until I saw what caused the conflagration of the sixth target. A small, round object had struck it right before it was covered with the fire. It reminded me of napalm, a substance now unfortunately familiar to the world as a result of my actions. The undisturbed enemy count was now a very manageable four. We all relaxed a little, or at least I did. Tam kept up with the arrows, and everyone else drew closer. I stood and watched.
But it wasn't us who did the managing. Out of the smoke, which was beginning to disperse by this stage of the fight, came a group equally as ragtag as our own. There were two elves, one archer and one mage. They emerged first, and began attacking the sylvans from behind. A couple of the ones on fire went down hard from their attacks, arrows and firebolts making their mark, sending the targets spinning to the dirt.
Five more figures charged out of the artificial fog. Three were humans, as far as I could tell. One simply had to be a dwarf, which would have peaked my interest normally, but he wasn't who I was looking at. Not by a long shot.
No, the seven-foot tall giant with huge horns was far more of a draw on my eyes.
He wasn't shy either. He tackled on of the unburned sylvans like a linebacker on a blitz, colliding with its torso and grabbing hold of it, tackling it to the ground with ease. Out came a huge, clunky axe that looked like a butcher's cleaver, and off came the sylvan's limbs and head in a series of vicious swipes. He stood up over the chopped-up tree, and I got my first good look at him.
He was Qunari, I supposed correctly. The horns weren't the only giveaway, and they were different to Tam's comparatively tiny curled ones. They were huge and stuck out of his head like a bull's, appropriately enough. If anything, they reminded me of the black dragon's own set. Same shape. He had grey-silver skin, a short black beard, was physically fit like you wouldn't believe, his ears were pointed, and he had warpaint that I could only assume was a vitaar painted all over him. I could tell this, because he was half-naked like Tam was; nearly entirely exposed upper body, with armoured gauntlets and trousers. One of his eyes was missing, and the scarred flesh was partially covered with a leather eyepatch.
The rest of his fellows laid into the sylvans, tossing ceramic pots at the things before charging home with axes. The pots peaked my interest immediately.
"Greek fire..." I thought aloud, as the makeshift incendiaries burst against the demonic trees.
"We call it Antivan fire," said Julie at my side, "These mercenaries know what they're doing. My step-father used the same thing against sylvans, years ago." I raised my eyebrow at the further mention of her family, but did not dig deeper. The mercs were too busy putting on a show.
And that was the end of the sylvans, more or less.
You're probably wondering two things at this point.
How did Tam react to seeing one of her former countrymen?
And...
Did he see my weapons in action?
The answer to both came in a single incident, along with something I did on a whim that had very far reaching consequences. We were understandably very pleased to have won, and after seeing to the dead, we camped out on the battlefield and burnt up the remains of the sylvans for cooking. Which probably wasn't kosher, but I didn't care, I'm immune to Fade-crap. Or to be more accurate, I was immune AND anathema to everything involved with the Fade. I would have started discussing this new development with the others, but Armen fell asleep almost immediately after the battle was over, as did Ciara. Dug in like ticks in seconds. So the only person I could talk to discreetly about the issue was out cold.
The Qunari himself turned out to be called "The Iron Bull", emphasis on the. He was the leader of the group, which was appropriately called "Bull's Chargers". Some may know them from their association with the Inquisition, along with Bull himself. At this point, they weren't the supposedly holy warriors some think they were. They were just mercenaries. Very good ones.
They camped off to the side of the rest of us, in their own tight-knit circle. Which foiled my plans of talking to the dwarf, to the point that this one wouldn't be the first dwarf I would actually meet. On the other hand, Duval and his men had warmed up to me considerably after seeing how easily I had disassembled the sylvans. I broke out some of the hard liquor and the last of the ale from Ciara's tavern, and we had a pleasant lunchtime booze-up. Julie and Tam were very pleased at that development. That attracted the notice of The Iron Bull.
"Hey, I didn't really talk to you yet..." he said, "But what is that you're drinking?" He had clearly noticed the revelry, and wanted to get involved. The smile on his face said as much. I was all for it, not yet aware of his actual profession. I rolled a log over for him to sit on and held a bottle up.
"Vodka," I said, pouring him a cup, "Try it." He took the cup in his oversized hands, and drank it in one gulp. I winced, half expecting that he wouldn't be able to hold it down. Big doesn't mean liquor friendly. He practically inhaled it and moved his tongue about in his mouth afterwards. Didn't seem like a problem, once I saw that.
"It's … refreshing," he said, "Hits hard though. I like it." His tone was deep and gravelly, as I had expected. He sat down on the log I had provided, which must have been formerly the body of one of the fallen ents. A delicious irony, I remember thinking at the time, parking one's ass on the defeated while toasting their demise.
"Glad to hear it," I said to him, "The name's Hunt. This is Julie, and Tam. The two elves in the wagon are Armen and Ciara. I'm not the leader really... but they are following me." I pointed my finger around the group. Julie gave a small smile and a nod, whereas Tam was doing her neutral face-stare down thing. The huge man's eyes checked out Julie with interest, but when they rested on Tam, his face hardened considerably.
"I'm the Iron Bull... but I guess you've heard that," he said.
"Ser Duval told me after you tackled that thing," I replied, "Said your reputation preceded you. I believe him." Hard to imagine ordinary human beings not taking notice of a mercenary of his stature and calibre. Probably got all the women too, bastard.
"Well, I've done some crazy shit and my people are good at their job," Bull said, with no small amount of pride, "I have my fun."
"I don't doubt it," I said, before downing the dregs of my own drink. There was a silence as both my companions watched him closely, and I kept my eyes on Duval's men.
"So, that was some solid work back there," continued Bull, "Where you come from? Ferelden?"
Tam's face twitched with what I thought was fear for the slightest fraction of a second, before she looked down into her own cup and polished the contents off. My eyes flickered to her for a second, but she didn't return her gaze upwards. Unable to figure out the problem, I decided to answer the man.
"I'm the Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, "From the Far West." Might as well roll with the established lie, I thought. Bull was almost certainly going to talk to Duval at some point later, after all.
"The Far West of Orlais?" he said, not believing it, "It's just a big desert and a stinking forest. And big too. Where exactly is your land?" I smirked, thinking I would be insulted if I was actually from west Orlais.
"Do I sound Orlesian to you?" I said, "And don't say I sound like a dwarf, everyone has already said so."
"So the Far West of what?" said Bull, "Isn't it nothing but wasteland beyond some huge mountains?" He was better informed about the geography of Thedas than I was, at this point.
"For a couple hundred miles, yeah," I lied, "But beyond that, there's an ocean, and beyond that, another continent. That's where I'm from."
Bull frowned and shook his head. He didn't buy it, but at the same time, how could he contradict me? Sure, I might speak the local language, but so did he and he wasn't from around there. My clothing, my weapons, my manners, they'd all be alien enough to convince most. Bull was smarter than that, but lacked any other explanation. Which left him with nothing. No problem to me.
"Is that where you learned to fight like that?" he asked, keeping up the pretence, "Coming over that huge distance?"
"If you mean smashing tree-demons like they're nothing, yes," I said, still lying, "You've probably heard of the Templars? I'm like that, sort of. An explorer." That last part wasn't actually far from the truth. I've had plenty of time to run tests on my ability and that of Templars, and they're a lot closer than I'm comfortable with. Though far, far more capable, and not reliant on lyrium. Never had a chance to test a Seeker. I'm not exactly in Pentaghast's good books, and she's the only surviving one I know of.
"I haven't heard that Templars can do that to demons," he said, eyeing me with suspicion, "But it isn't something I know much about. I know how to kill mages and fade crap, that's all I need to know." A sentiment I could get behind fully. I refilled the circle's drinks, before responding.
"Here's drinking to that," I said, raising my cup, "To killing magic crap." Julie and Bull joined in the gesture, with Tam abstaining. We all drank at the same time. I felt myself warming up, as the alcohol began to affect me, but I suppressed it as best I could. Bull wiped his lips and handed me back the cup.
"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you learned to fight?" I said, "Since we're on the subject."
"The antaam," he smiled, "But I doubt that means anything to you." He was right. It didn't. But his eyes flickered to Tam again, before he stood up.
"Going back so soon?" I asked in jest, "And we were just getting started." I still didn't know much about him.
"It's been interesting, Hunt," Bull said, "I hope we meet again." And we would indeed do so, and in similar conditions no less. I waved him off, eager to speak to the others. He wandered away, shouting at his own people from a distance, merrily. I let out the breath I was holding, and drank again.
The Iron Bull seemed like a good guy, the sort of person I might go drinking with back home if anything, but I didn't like his questioning. I should have thought why he was even bothering, and it would have saved trouble. I just thought he was curious, like pretty much everyone else had been.
"He was big," said Julie, with a coquettish grin that had me snickering again.
"Are all Qunari men that large?" I asked Tam through my amusement, "He was built like a brick shithouse." That got a reaction, a smirk on our own Qunari companion flowered forth. Both Julie and myself were pleased to see it.
"Qunari women too," she said, her smile remaining, "I am actually considered quite small among my people." She had an inch or two on me, and I am not a short man. I'm not sure if I was surprised, as I had
"Is that a problem?" I asked.
"The opposite, it's an advantage," she said, "Because I'm smaller than most, and because my horns are very small, I was considered destined for great things. I would have been Ben-Hassrath, but I'm a terrible liar. So, I was assigned to the Tamassrans, and later exempted from birthing duties."
"Birthing duties?" asked Julie, eyebrows raised and lips thinned. Fairly sure I had a similar reaction.
"Qunari don't have families," Tam said, "But you'll notice that there are quite a lot of us." Yet another reminder of the totalitarianism of her former nation's government and religion. State-run baby farms. It occurred to me that she must have been an important part of that whole thing, until she escaped. Which sent another shiver down my spine, that she hadn't run from it. Of course, there was a good reason for her making that decision later rather than sooner, but I would only see evidence of it later.
Julie drank deeply in response to this, not wanting to think much more about it. Her preconceptions about the Qun had been confirmed entirely. When she was finished, she grabbed the log she had been sitting on, moved it to beside Tam and sat down again. She linked their arms, and lay her head on Tam's shoulder, staring at the fire. I just looked on, watching the expression of empathy. Julie had her secrets too, after all. But there was another thing on my mind.
"What is Ben-Hassrath?" I asked, "And why would being a bad liar stop you from being it?"
Tam's smile dropped, and her features hardened again like before. She looked over at the Iron Bull, as he slapped his thighs and laughed among his merc group. I glanced in the same direction, getting the point quickly. She articulated it anyway.
"He is Ben-Hassrath," she said, "Secret police, spies, even assassins, though there's no way he does that job. It's their job to stop all threats to the Qun, and enforce its laws." Julie's head bolted up and turned at that.
"Wait... doesn't that mean you're in serious danger?" she asked, "What if he finds out you abandoned your position?"
"I think he already knows that I am Tal-Vashoth," Tam said, "Which wouldn't be a problem, he is Hissrad, a spy. Normally, he would not want to blow his cover.. but..."
Tam looked over at me with worry, and a pang of guilt stabbed me. My presence had put her in danger. Even though she was well able to defend herself, even though she could be utterly terrifying, I was very fond of her and wanted to protect her. Julie's fault entirely. I mean, she was easy on the eyes and great in a fight. But until the night on the hillside, she didn't have anything like that hold on me.
"Well, shit," I sighed, "It's me, isn't it?"
"Someone with your abilities in the company of a Tal-Vashoth might be worth breaking his cover," she informed me, "He'll try to kill Julie and I, and capture you."
"I would like to see him try," said Julie, "He'll be full of holes." She did become rather fond of riddling particularly galling enemies with holes, either with her handcannon or other weapons. That's my fault.
"We won't let that happen," I said, agreeing with the blacksmith's sentiments entirely, "Over my dead body will he kill you two. Let's get out of here. Pack the things, I've got something to do quickly, before we go."
"What?" asked Julie.
"Restitution," I said. Not quite knowing what I was getting at, Julie merely shrugged. The two women rose as one, and began grabbing our things off the ground.
I walked over to Duval, who was laughing with his sergeant. As deep in their cups as we had been.
"Can I speak to you for a moment?" I asked. He nodded and got up. We walked a little away from his dwindled group of soldiers, who were very happy to be alive, and leaned against a large tree.
"What is it?" he asked. I pulled out the small bag I intended to give him. It was full of gold and silver, fully half what we had left from looting the bandits. I opened it and let him have a look, before pulling the strings at the top tight again to close it.
"This is for the families of the dead," I said firmly, holding it out for him to take. I had seen what it was like for wounded veterans and those left behind by the dead in my own country. They had support from our government, but often still struggled. I was quite determined to make sure I wasn't seen as some murderous monster by anyone. Not only out of personal feeling, but also with the expectation that the United Nations would soon be making contact with Orlais. Lay the groundwork for diplomacy, being the general idea.
Duval accepted the gift without words, and looked at me through his mask. Eyes peering through me, as if he had not expected this at all. I didn't doubt that, but I felt something needed to be done about the circumstances we had both found each other in. Some might hesitate to give a chevalier a large pouch of valuables with the expectation that they give it to someone else, but Duval struck me as the overly honourable type from the very beginning. Satisfied he'd distribute the money, I walked back to the wagon.
"Good luck, Marquis," he said as I left.
My action would later save the lives of ten thousand people, something so absurd that I scarcely believed my luck. In retrospect, it seems almost inevitable. But that story will be relayed in a later chapter.
By the time I returned, Tam was mounted again and Julie was at the reins of the wagon. Armen and Ciara stirred a little in the back, as the movement started. I hopped up onto the bench beside Julie, and we rolled along, past Duval and his men and towards the main road again.
There to meet us was the Iron Bull.
He crossed our path, and took hold of Fritz by the reins, stopping both horse and rider in their tracks. Fritz neighed nervously, while Tam narrowed her eyes as our assailant rubbed the back of his neck. I quickly reloaded my firelance, as it was still empty from the fight. I could tell this wasn't going to end well.
Bull began speaking in the Qunari tongue. I didn't understand the conversation, but Tam kindly told me how it went almost immediately afterwards. It was brief, at least.
"Tama... Look, I really don't want to do this," he said, addressing her respectfully, "I don't know why you're here, or if you're even still a tamassran. That guy is too interesting to let go. You're coming with me."
Tam leaned down on the horse slightly, smiling in her favourite way. "If you don't want to do this, then don't," she replied, "If you must, then prepare to die." Spoken with venom even I could recognise despite the language barrier. She could have lied, said she was a spy too or something, but she didn't have confidence she could trick someone of his intelligence.
Bull grumbled for a moment, and his grip on the horse's reins tightened very noticeably. A huge muscled arm curled over his shoulder to his back. I wasn't sure whether or not it was to retrieve his axe or to scratch himself in thought again about how to respond, but I wouldn't get the chance to find out.
Julie immediately raised her handcannon, and let off a bullet. A warning shot, thankfully. The muzzle flashed, and bullet buried itself in the ground not far away from Bull's feet. Fritz reared in surprise. He moved away with such force that Tam struggled to stay in the saddle, and the reins were torn from Bull's hand. The packhorses cried with shock too, shuddering a little. A quick jerk on the reins stopped them. Needless to say, the Qunari spy was shocked. His remaining good eye moved from the hole in the mud beside him until it was frozen on the sight of Julie, as she tweaked her aim towards him.
I raised my firelance to cover Bull's friends, as they stood up with their weapons. Faces full of anger on most of them. I put the mage firmly in my sights as the first to go if things went even more pear-shaped. I might be immune to magic, but the others weren't. Nor was the large amount of explosives and volatile weapons in the wagon. Blowing up unceremoniously would have been an irony too far.
"Nobody come any closer, or your boss learns to drink through a new hole in his head!" Julie declared loudly. Not certain that Bull's head was thin enough for her to actually do that, which amuses me every time I think about it. The man in question smirked, and waved his hand to get his people to sit back down again. They obeyed with a little prodding from his lieutenant, though their heads remained swivelled towards us. Tam wheeled Fritz around to join us, as I turned my attention to Bull himself.
"You're not in a strong negotiating position," I said, perhaps with a bit more cheek than I should have, "We're leaving."
"I guess you are," Bull replied, "But you know this isn't going to end well for you, right?"
"We're not going to be around long enough for your threats to mean anything," I said, "We're going back to my country. Good luck finding us." And good luck defeating the armed might of Earth's humanity if you did... I really wanted to believe I was still going home.
Duval rode up on one of his horses, sword out.
"Whatever this is, that's enough," he ordered, "Iron Bull, you are under my employ. You will obey. Marquis, I can't ignore you creating a disturbance either." If there was proof that he was a brave man, this is it. Even after watching us demolish his men and smack demon-possessed trees around like they were made of paper-maché, he intervened.
Bull held his hands up in protest, like he hadn't planned to do anything at all. He backed off to his friends, and mumbled to them. Some were clearly confused about what it was all about. That got me thinking that perhaps some of them didn't know he was a spy, or at least, not for sure. I nudged Julie to lower her weapon and get us moving again. She didn't.
"He should die," she said quietly to me, "He'll find us."
"If he does, he'll die then," I replied, "Let's go home." Playing that card on her was perhaps cruel, but we needed to get the hell out of there. It worked too. She put away her gun and the wagon moved again. A minute later, we were on the road again and out of sight of either Duval or the Iron Bull behind the trees.
I collapsed onto the bench, leaning back, not quite able to believe what had happened. I was glad for Julie's quick reaction. She let out a small laugh to herself as we made our escape, and smiled at me. Tam rode up alongside, deep in thought. We were going to have to talk about this again, I knew.
There was a rustling from behind, and I turned back to see our resident mage leaning over the boxes. "What was that all about?" asked Armen sleepily, his eyes barely open. The noon sunlight was too much for him, apparently.
"Go back to sleep," I said, "You'll need it to hear about the trouble we just dodged."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there is the first meeting of the Peacekeeper and the Iron Bull... I really wanted to make it a more friendly one than this, but it just wasn't possible. Bull is still a Qunari agent, after all, and he hasn't fought alongside the Inquisitor yet. He hasn't been out of Seheron too long at this point either.
5 Coloured Walker: I hope this chapter answered your doubts as to why a hundred soldiers would be chasing a half-dozen people... i.e. they weren't.
RomanceDagger: I'm fond of Bull as a character too. We'll be seeing more of him.
Judy: Thanks as always.