Chapter Forty-Five: Battle of the Hafter
If Honnleath is the scene of a battle that will be talked about for a lifetime or two, the combat on the left bank of the Hafter in November of 9:39 may well be spoken about for centuries.
For military men, it is the first clash of modern arms and magic in the history of Thedas. Sahrnia was notable as the battle that ended the era of sword and bow. This was to be the battle that confirmed the change, destroying the possibility of magic fully counteracting the new armaments that my arrival brought. This is not the popular reading of the event, of course. To the mind of the people, the romanticised story about knight-enchanters and mounted chevaliers fighting against brave but hopelessly outgunned freeholder volunteers is preferred, both in Ferelden and in our own country. Even among veterans.
Politically, it was significant too for more than just Ferelden. Albeit that this was unknown to anyone present. There was one person at least who saw the implications as soon as she heard of what had happened: The Divine.
Needless to say, things spiralled out of control quickly afterwards. Not that we could have noticed. We had our own problems. Until we got to Amaranthine, we were essentially in the dark about happenings elsewhere. We had no idea how the Orlesian Civil War was playing out, what the mages and templars were doing, how far the consequences of our previous actions had already gone.
The recreation of the Inquisition was almost inevitable already. With our actions, it became a certainty.
The Tainted were led into the main hall of Vigil's Keep, assembling around the firepit for warmth. I insisted that they all be Joined at the same time, several other Wardens prepared the huge amount of cups and liquid required for the process. The Warden-Commander agreed, as all of them had no choice but to be Joined or die the slow death.
She and I went to an office above the library to put our agreement in writing, while the preparations continued. The room was as spartan as you'd expect from someone uninterested in ornamentation for its own sake, the great hall of the keep being to impress visitors and hold receptions, not for her personal enjoyment.
The talk was all business, and it all went on paper twice. Once in the Common tongue, written in dwarven script, for the Wardens' records. Once in Orlesian, in Latin script, so that we had the Wardens' seal on a deal that clearly stated our intention to leave Ferelden.
The Warden-Commander would allow us access to Amaranthine, allow those that lived through the process of becoming Wardens to come with us, that those that did would become a new section of the Order pending approval from Weisshaupt, and the Order would intercede to bring the idea for the withdrawal of the Free Army from Fereldan soil to Alistair and Anora.
In return, we would provide the Grey Wardens with firelances in peacetime, and heavier things in the event of Blights. At a reasonable markup. There was no way I intended to listen to Leha chew my ear off about being charitable for no good reason. If the Wardens wanted blackpowder weapons, we'd do the manufacturing and they could buy them from us. The Fereldan Order could buy the first few hundred at-cost. From what I heard, they could damn well afford it.
I signed both pieces of paper first, while Andras began heating and mixing the grey sealing wax. I remember grumbling in my head about feather quills, missing my ballpoint pen as usual. Scratching my name on the documents was a pain in the ass, but I completed it and offered Andras the quill. She refused to take it, looking at my hand and back at me.
"One more thing," she said.
Annoyed, I pushed off from the table and crossed my arms. "We've already drawn up the documents," I said, "I'm not conceding anything else."
"It's nothing that needs to be put in writing," Andras replied, stirring the wax in a little pouring bowl, "You said your ships are going to come with the Tevinter Navy?"
Aha, I thought, it's that topic. "Yes," I said, "And I'm thinking you know something about that?"
I got a single nod.
"There's a story about the Ferelden Wardens," she said, pouring the wax onto the Orlesian document. She pressed her ring onto the pool, leaving a griffon-shaped imprint on it.
"Once upon a time, magisters came to Sophia Dryden, the last Warden-Commander before the Wardens were expelled from Ferelden. They claimed claiming they needed to go to the Deep Roads to look for something. They wouldn't tell the Wardens what it was, but they offered gold and magical knowledge. The Grey Wardens of Tevinter and Ferelden were both under significant pressure at the time, the Vinters thanks to the Magisterium reducing their tithes to almost nothing, and the Fereldans due to the madness of King Arland Theirin."
"I'm sure you like reminding the current king he's related to a madman," I said, "Get to the point."
"It didn't take Dryden long to realise the Tevinters were looking for a person in the Deep Roads," Andras continued, ignoring my comment, "They knew specifically where to look too. But they found nothing at the site but blood. Darkspawn, mostly, but not entirely. Whoever they were looking for was long gone, and the darkspawn returned in force, making a further search impossible."
The bodies we found in the Upper Galleries suddenly made more sense. I could only imagine what would have happened if Tiberius' ancestors had caught up to them before they became corpses.
"Let me guess," I said, "They brought your fellow Wardens to somewhere beneath the Frostbacks. Almost half way between Orzammar and Valammar."
Andras' mouth dropped open. "How did you know that?" she said.
"We found who they were looking for on the march here," I replied, "Or, the bodies at least."
"Outlanders," Andras scoffed, "People from other worlds. Always humans with a particularly extraordinary set of capabilities, or so I'm told." She sighed loudly, shaking her head.
"Just one other world," I replied, "You don't seem all that impressed."
"I'm an elf," she said, "There's something perverse to me about a world where only humans exist. Like a glimpse of a future where my nightmares are reality."
I paused. I hadn't thought of it that way, and no one had ever spoken to me in a manner suggestive of the racial differences between our worlds mattering. Except Briala's implications, but she was a visionary in her own way. "There never were elves on Earth," I said, "I... know enough about the history of this place to know that isn't a great comfort, but ..."
"Then you understand why I'm helping you," Andras said, pouring the wax for the second seal and planting the ring on it, "As Sidona Andras, not just Acting Warden-Commander."
"You strike a hard deal for someone who believes in what we're doing," I said, "If the Fereldans heard that, it might be dangerous too. You're an Orlesian."
Andras hummed a tune while she let the wax set. "If it brings about a world where an elf mage doesn't have to commit her life to a death cult to avoid being locked up," Andras replied, "It is worth the risk. Just as my deal is worth it to you, both right now and in the centuries to come. Darkspawn don't care one bit for banners and ideas."
She pulled her copy of the agreement up into her hands, looking it over. "Besides, with this, I'll be an Arlessa," she smiled, "And finally step out of some of Amell's very long shadow. Even if they refuse and you lose, I'll be able to say I tried to defend Ferelden despite having no real obligation personally to do so."
I snorted. While I could see the Fereldans refusing the offer, depending on who was present at their war council, I couldn't see them presenting a real threat. Never mind the technological advantages, I held the high ground.
"Lose?" I said, "If Alistair plays hard to get, he'll be the one regretting it." I held my hand out for her to shake. She looked at me, pleading silently not to let that eventuality come to pass. But she did shake my hand, giving it a firm once over.
"Let's go save your soldiers," Andras said, plucking her staff off its place across the table.
The hundred soldiers or so stood off around the fire pit, staring at the flames, as the Joining cups were handed to them by Warden-Constable Oghren. Other Wardens were arranging bedding and some tarps, so that those that lived through what was about to happen and those that would not would have some comfort. The only other people present were those that had entered with me, our honour guard still refused entry, but they were forced to stand away near the throne.
Armen, Louise and Mariette looked on with a sense of wide-eyed awe, that they were seeing something that very few outside the Order had. Markham's gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail. Ciara on the other hand was chewing her thumbnail. They were all dealing with it in their own way.
Andras cut through the ring of people and into the middle of the space between them and the fire, overseeing the process and giving what had to be words of encouragement to each of the men and women taking a cup. They appreciated it, thanking her for the opportunity to live. She just told them to thank me instead. A good person at heart, and I admired her for it.
Leaving that element to the professionals and with nothing left to do but wait, I circled around to Tam at the far side. I found her in good spirits, outwardly at least, carefully watching those taking the cups. But my stomach churned with worry.
"You took the antibiotics, right?" I whispered.
Tam turned around. "I did," she replied, "I just wish we had enough for everyone."
"So do I," I said, not feeling any better about that, "We're not even sure it'll help, so that's something. Not losing you though, so to hell with it."
"What will happen, we cannot control," Tam said, "I am resigned to my fate. If I die, I will do so knowing I acted according to my conscience. If I live... I may not be able to have the family I've wanted for years..."
Another stomach drop. "Enough of that talk," I growled, "You'll be fine." Tam smiled back at me, knowing my insistence could do nothing about it, and gave me a touch on the cheek with the side of her hand.
Andras and Oghren went around clockwise, coming towards where we were standing. I felt itches everywhere, intensifying as they moved closer. I almost didn't hear the surprised cough from Oghren as he met someone he knew directly to Tam's right, where I couldn't see.
"Dagna?!" he asked, "What are you doing? You got Tainted too? I thought you were mucking about with the Circle or something."
I shifted on my feet to look past Tam, even as she turned to see what was going on herself. Oghren was standing in front of a small-even-for-her-race female dwarf. The same brown haired one from Kinloch Hold, no less.
"I needed to get out of there," Dagna said, "Things were getting... well, bad in the Tower. Besides, there's a man immune to all magical aberration standing right there!" She pointed at me.
"How could I possibly turn up the chance to study him?" she added.
"Now hold on a minute," I said, "How did you even get in here?"
"Eh, I walked through the front door?" Dagna chirped, like I was being stupid or something.
"And no one stopped you?" Andras asked.
"Nope," said Dagna happily, popping the 'p'.
"Dagna, the Wardens are no place for you," Oghren said, looming over her, "And that madman's army definitely isn't. I need a drink just thinking about what might happen to you. Cute girl like you shouldn't be stuck.."
The smaller dwarf crossed her arms in defiance, shutting Oghren up. "I can take care of myself," she said with confidence, "Mostly."
Andras cleared her throat loudly, tapping her staff on the ground while she did. "Miss Dagna, was it?" she said, "Are you joining the Grey Wardens?"
"No, but..." Dagna began.
"Then wait over there with the others," Andras insisted, stepping aside and holding out her arm towards the throne, "And be glad I am letting you stay at all, on account of you knowing the Warden-Constable."
Dagna ran off as quickly as her legs could carry her, smirks following her from the sick soldiers. I shook my head, consoled at least that she had provided some solace to them. "Sorry about that," I said, "I didn't realise we had a stowaway. I'll have to talk to some of the mages we picked up at the Circle."
"No harm done," Andras replied, before looking to Tam, "You're the last." Another Warden brought out a silver chalice, with griffons in relief on the side of it, the black liquid contents glowing a deep red ever so slightly, sloshing as it was held out.
Tam gave a single nod, and accepted it.
The other Wardens withdrew, leaving just Oghren and Andras in the middle of us all. Oghren grabbed hold of the neck of his armour with one hand and grabbed a skin off his belt with his other, waiting for the Warden-Commander to speak. She climbed up onto the firepit's surrounding wall, and began walking along it, her shadow projected on the ceiling, walls and the tapestry.
"Join us, brothers and sisters!" Andras declared proudly, staff held aloft, "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant! Join us in the duty that cannot be forsworn."
Andras paused, looking over at Tam and I. "And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten," she continued more softly, "And that one day, we shall join you."
"Drink up, boys and girls!" Oghren laughed, preferring the action to the words. He pulled open his skin and drank deeply, the smell of ale floating around me. At least until everyone else, Tam included, drank from their own cups.
No hesitation, no delay; they knew that this was their last chance to live past the month's end.
They all finished at more or less the same time, many sticking out their tongues and rasping at the taste of the ritual's potion. Slowly, metal and wood cups began to fall, clattering onto the stone floor with hollow thuds and ringing. Deep, pained coughing erupted from dozens of throats at once.
I barely had enough time to notice the man falling to his knees, blood coming from his mouth, before Tam fell backwards onto me.
I caught her before she bounced off of me, just in time. I set her down on the ground, onto some of the hay-filled bedding laid out for that purpose, barely able to think. I quickly grabbed her wrist, placing my fingers over it, searching for a pulse. Sickness rose up when I didn't immediately find it, fear infecting me like a disease. How could I possibly face Julie with this news? How could we go on without Tam?
I clutched her tight, praying that she wasn't dead. The Maker answered. She exhaled, just enough for me to feel it. My heart thumping as hard as it ever did, I let her down again onto the ground and then collapsed onto my back, exhausted and panting.
"Son of a bitch," I said to the ceiling, closing my eyes.
"That's no way to talk to someone that's helping you," came a gruff, mocking voice from above.
"Hush and help me up," I said, struggling to breath, "I need to know how many of the others lived."
A thick, sweaty hand grabbed my own, and together, Oghren and I managed to get me standing again. I looked to the man I had seen fall. He was definitely dead, if the pool of blood around his body was any evidence. I had almost fallen into it without noticing, in fact.
Private Théo Renard of the Grenadiers, for the record.
The first name on the Grey Warden Memorial at Place de la Victoire. Not the last Renard on the memorials there either.
Not many names from the Vigil's Joining there though.
I looked between the private and Tam, thinking over how easily it could have been the other way around. What a terrible risk to have to take, and what a terrible way to die.
The Wardens were busy separating out those who lived and died. While the way my people had perished was horrendous; they all had blood coming out of their mouths, the numbers were low enough for relief. Everyone else looked like they were soundly asleep
I let the Wardens do their work, until Armen approached me.
"Something's up," he said quietly, "Only one in four was taken. That's too low."
"You think it has something to do with me?" I asked, "I'm not sure I should care as long as more live."
"That's the spirit," Oghren interrupted, "We Wardens of Ferelden brew a very special Joining potion. Hard hitting stuff, tastes even worse than usual, but it works."
"We'll have to throw the old man a party after this," Andras said from behind me, "But they don't need to know too much about that, Warden-Constable. I think only the Qunari knows."
"If you say so, Commander," Oghren replied, before taking another swill from his skin.
I barely registered the remarks, distracted too much by my people and their condition. Only about a quarter died, something I'm told only Ferelden's Wardens achieve. For reasons unknown to most.
But the tale of Soldier's Peak isn't part of this story. Come to think of it, it may be related to the tale she told of the Tiberian magisters coming to Ferelden... I'll have to explore that possibility. If the Wardens exchanged more words on the subject, I did not notice.
Particularly as another Grey Warden came storming in through the main doors, pushing one of them open with the full weight of his body. Which wasn't much because he was a short elf. He came in out of the evening darkness with a message in-hand. He paused at the sight of bodies, flustered even before he saw them, but Andras moving up to me caught his attention. He came straight to me and put a paper in my hands.
I read it, and suddenly I was glad that Tam was knocked out. I handed the piece of paper to Andras to read, waving Armen, Mariette and Louise closer to me. They came up just as the Warden-Commander began to translate aloud in Common.
"From Isewen to the Marquis,
Message reads: Fereldan Royal Army sighted less than a day's march away. Exact number unknown, reconnaissance group discovered before counting of tents and fires could allow estimate. Forward column heavily outnumbered. Request your return to the Army at earliest convenience."
At earliest convenience is subordinate talk for 'Hurry the hell up!'
"That was quick," I said, "Someone or something lit a fire under Alistair's ass."
"All the better," Louise said, "The faster they move, the more tired they will be trying to storm those hills."
"You'd think the King would be aware of something like that," Mariette warned, "It makes little military sense.
"More likely it was the Queen who urged speed," Andras frowned, "She is no player of the Game, but she is the closest thing Ferelden has. If anything can sink our little scheme, it is her insistence on playing the safe bet for keeping the realm unified. Attacking your army before it can make it to Denerim, even if it was only a delaying attack, would make for very good politics. Enough to rally far more volunteers to the banner."
That was in keeping with what little I knew about Anora. She very much preferred to work from the shadows, as long as no one challenged her authority. And as she was very fond of Alistair, something that was reciprocated, the two monarchs were as authoritative as any since Calenhad himself.
"You're going to have to be very convincing," I said to Andras, "Because tomorrow, you're going to bring the idea of us leaving by sea to the King when his army arrives."
The Warden-Commander nodded, unperturbed by the possibility of failure. I hoped that was due to her having a strong relationship with the former Warden on the throne, chewing the inside of my cheek as I thought for the first time about how exactly I intended to handle failure if it came.
Tam and the others would sleep though the next two days, and I'm glad they did. It was our turn to take a terrible risk.
There is little point in discussing the arguments over battle planning detail, the plan went to complete shit, but it was more or less the same thing I had laid out upon our arrival. A line dug in across the Imperial Highway and around the top of two hills, with the Hafter bridge to the southeast and the Vigil to the rear. The only significant difference between when we arrived and when battle would commence was where the mages would be, and it was an important one.
Unlike Orlais, which relies heavily on crossbows for its archery, Ferelden was a country for the longbow. They could really reach out and touch us with those, at about the same ranges we could shoot back.
I was worried about that, so the mages got redistributed. The Libertarians and Lucrosians would be spread out along the entire line, to put up magical barriers around the troops. Bullets seem to be harder to stop with such magic than arrows, for whatever reason. The firelancers would still be arranged on the hilltops.
There was still the matter of the mages on the other side to deal with. The Templars were formed up in the centre behind the pikes and crossbow troops. The Aequitarians we mounted up. That way, we could counter any concentration of enemy mages, and if they didn't concentrate, we could exploit that too.
Something a certain officer noted themselves.
From left to right, the army was arranged as follows;
McNulty in command of the left, made up of one thousand five hundred firelancers and two batteries totalling thirty cannon.
Barris in command of the centre, with his hundred Templars and two thousand 'tercio' troops, crossbows deployed ahead of the defences so he could draw the enemy in with a retreat.
Among the ranks, Armen's Libertarians, the smirking guy himself with Barris in the centre. Behind the hills, Louise de Villars, Isewen and Velarana, commanding the cavalry of the Guard, the Lancers and the Aequitarians.
On the right, Soprano commanded two thousand five hundred firelancers, including her Rangers, and three batteries of cannon, two fifteen gun ones and one specialist one placing among the front troops. The Avvars were up there too. As was I.
Mike was commanding the rear column of the army, so wasn't present.
When the Royal Army of Ferelden finally showed itself, I felt we were as ready as we could be.
I watched the road beyond the bridge for the whole morning, sitting on top of the earth and wood defences the troops had spent the morning and the day before piling up, one-sided trenches and abatis, as it came on. There was a clear field of view in front for miles around, only small trees dispersed around to break it in some places. Light forest was to either side.
A good deal of the ground in front of us was marshy, the flood plain living up to its name as the banks swelled with rainwater. The causeway that the Highway sat on was dry, but the rest of the ground in front was not. The overcast skies had dumped buckets on us in the night, but that had stopped. The exception was the right flank, where the banks and ground were higher thanks to the protruding part of our hill.
Even by our standards, the enemy made a sight.
The knights of Ferelden came first, as one body of mounted troops. Fluttering red banners flying above them, the mabari appearing as a golden stain on them from a distance. They were almost as heavily armoured as our own chevaliers, and about as numerous. They were accompanied by archers at the rear of the column, also mounted. I read the intention behind their presence easily; Orlesian armies had a tendency to mount heavy cavalry attacks on the Fereldan forces during the previous war, to prevent them closing chokepoints.
The cavalry came across the bridge, not a care for the cannon batteries looking down on them (albeit beyond what we could shoot accurately at). The knights and archers hopped off their horses, set down stakes around the bridgehead they had just seized, and waited for an assault they were sure was coming in battle formation.
All perfectly reasonable, as any military person will understand. Had they been forced to take the bridge by force or use the fords elsewhere, I could have turned it into a reverse Battle of the River Dane with great ease. And I was counting on their mythologising of that battle, to refuse to cross, to refuse to make the same mistake the chevaliers had decades before. To draw the Fereldans in.
If the olive branch I intended to send went down in flames, I would have to bloody them. I couldn't do that with water in the way. They'd make a break for it as soon as they realised they were outmatched, and I needed to hold them for longer than that to send the required message that war was not the solution to the problem.
An hour later, the main columns began arriving. Compared with the Orlesian legions and their own cavalry, they were less well equipped. Chainmail or splintmail was the best armour they had, and none had sets that protected anything other than their upper torso. Leather predominated, except for the metal kettle helmets.
In bygone eras, that might have been a disadvantage. Not any longer. The firelance made wearing plate armour a bad investment of money and energy, at least when facing armies that used them. The Fereldans would be able to move more quickly than most of the troops we had faced before. Their bows, swords and axes could all get the job done, if they used their mobility correctly.
The King's party arrived at midday, accompanied by the human Grey Wardens that had been discharged to serve him, and I began to worry about the same time that it did. He was not at the rear of his columns. Still more troops were pouring in, setting camp on their side of the bridge or moving across it to reinforce those that had already been sent. More than I had expected.
More and more longbow troops, in particular. Another legacy of the Fifth Blight; it's far safer to kill darkspawn from a distance.
"They just keep coming," I said to Ciara, who was sat beside me the whole morning, "Looks like there could be thirty thousand of them. Hope to hell they don't know we have only eleven. "
She was dressed in a Kevlar helmet and plate-carrier, but her light hunting gear underneath, the best compromise of protection and mobility there was. Her daggers were on the front of her chest, for quickdraw stabbing. Expecting the worse, as I was.
"We don't have that kind of luck," she replied, stringing her bow, "But they have to be wondering what we're doing up here on the hills, which helps."
I looked across to the northern hill, Hill 2 by our nomenclature, slightly further back from the river than where I was standing, on Hill 1. It bristled with firelancers and cannon, peeking out of the cover like wary animals. Ciara's assessment was dead on. Traditionally, you would block a river crossing, not allow it.
The Fereldans were brave to take the initiative on the perceived mistake on my part, and they weren't stupid enough to go straight on the attack until they had formed up their full strength.
"We'll make a Fredericksburg out of this if they're not put off by that," I said, rubbing my eyes, "Not that anyone here knows what that means."
"I don't know what that means," Ciara pointed out, fiddling with an arrow.
"Be glad you don't," I replied, "And pray you won't find out."
"Pray for those ones?" she snorted, flicking her head towards the opponent, "Can you do something for me?"
"Anything," I said. I expected some words for Armen, in case she died. That wasn't what she was getting at all.
"Get out your binoculars or that scope of yours," Ciara said, pointing at the position of the bridgehead, "Take a look."
I didn't quite see what she was getting at, but I had promised to do what she had asked, so I upheld my word. I plucked the heavy binos out of their place on my hip, and set to looking.
I saw what I had before; longbowmen, stakes in the ground, horses, armoured swordsmen. Nothing unusual.
"Now look at our army," Ciara said, stretching her arms up above her head and standing up.
I looked around and saw our soldiers. Round helmets over their heads, cast in the same sort of shape as my own. Thick padded hats underneath them for both comfort and proper protection. Leather and cloth formed in the same way as our own kevlar plate-carriers, protecting the most vital areas while allowing movement. Above them, Old Glory, the UN banner and the regimental colours of the Rangers waved in the biting breeze.
Nothing unusual there either, in other words. I was at a complete loss.
"Okay," I said, "What was I supposed to have noticed?"
"Orlesians, Avvars, Fereldans, mages," Ciara said, counting off the people on the fingers of her right hand, "Elves."
Her argument finally clicked. "You doubt Alistair has such an army," I said.
"I know he doesn't," she nodded, "Maybe not out of his own choices, but whatever happened with the Hero of Ferelden, most of what he did to fix things didn't last."
Probably because he left, I mused to myself.
"The mages kept their freedoms," I said, "But I guess that hasn't lasted either. The Knight-Commander at Kinloch was jumpy as a jackrabbit."
Ciara blinked, out of lack of knowledge of what a jackrabbit was. Informing her some days later was good fun. "All I know is that I won't pity them if we fight," she said, "They would have no pity for me."
"Sam," said a voice from behind, intonation deep but feminine.
Surprised, I turned to find Asala and Mariette lurking behind me. The former attired in the Avvar fashion once again, half-naked in the usual intimidating-but-beautiful way, painted white and blue. The latter dressed in a heart-stoppingly similar manner to the things she was wearing the first time I met her, the time she had tried to kill me; in full harlequin armour, right up to the idealised human face as a mask, daggers at her hips, bow in her hands. Though less colourful, with darker tones in blue. A piece for night attacks, I thought immediately.
The sight of the two warriors was enough to put Ciara on edge, her own fingers nocking an arrow and standing to the side of me to get a good shot. I'm sure if I could have seen Mariette's face, she would have been visibly amused. Asala gave my friend a single glance, and moved up to me. A little too close, really, but Qunari concepts of personal space or even privacy are lacking to begin with, so I tried not to draw any conclusions.
"There is a Grey Warden saarebas at the bottom of the hill," Asala said, "Claims she is allowed to come up."
I sighed. Everyone was being quite insane about my personal safety. That they had stopped a mage, whom could very much harm them, to protect me, whom was entirely immune to magic, wasn't the best display of logic. But the security protocols I had beaten into Mike's folks a year or more before were in turn beaten into everyone else in the original ten thousand soldiers of the Army, and almost all of those present were from those first two waves of recruits.
"She's no threat," I said, "Asala, can you bring her up please?"
"Certainly," the Qunari smiled back. She wandered off back down the muddy path, as it tracked to the peak of the hill behind me.
Mariette took her place at my side, again too close and without the excuse of being from a culture that didn't get that concept. Which while masked was downright offputting. "Marquis," she said, "You charmer. Two Qunari now. I should have known. You're just too tired for me, is all."
"That would be insulting my stamina," I quipped, pushing myself off the raised ground I was sitting on, getting away from her, "But I'm a little busy at the moment."
Mariette let out a single, haughty laugh. "The Marquise would not have hesitated to flirt," she said.
"She isn't here," Ciara said, "And she isn't here."
The harlequin shrugged with her hands, as an actual shoulder shrug was probably too paysan, and leaned against the earthworks, watching me through the eye-slits. I deemed it wise to look practically anywhere else, which led my eyes upwards enough to spot the single eagle circling overhead. Just the one, the silver headed one. One of the two usual suspects.
"Well now," I said up at the sky, "Where's your friend?"
Hanging around Julie, I would later find out.
The others looked up, and we all regarded the fine looking bird do its thing, swooping around, as if it was examining our defences. It was a great distraction for a little while, and I was still in that state when Asala returned with the Warden-Commander unnoticed.
"What are you doing?" Andras asked, incredulous.
I glanced at her, finding her brown eyes staring at me from under her silver-lined blue cowl sharply. She was fully kitted out in silverite.
"Ah, just a little bird watching," I said, returning to it, "That eagle is one of two that followed us from Orlais. And I have no idea how they followed us through the Deep Roads, or why."
Andras clicked her tongue, looking up herself for a moment. "That is strange, to say the least," she said, "But is this really the time?"
"Got to appreciate the little things," I replied, "Might be dead by sundown."
That was an attitude the Warden-Commander, and indeed all others present, could appreciate. "The new Warden-Recruits are still asleep," she reported, "And I spotted the King's Banner on the way in."
"Time for you to go parley," I concluded.
"How likely do you think it is that the King will accept," Mariette asked, "I do not think I would, in his place."
Andras breathed out loudly, inclining her head downwards. "It depends on many factors," she said, "There are likely to be many voices both for and against our deal among the nobles. The Chancellor, Eamon Guerrin, is likely to be for peace. The Warden-Constable I sent in command of those I discharged for service will not be, he has personal reasons to oppose the deal that have nothing to do with any of us. The southern nobles will likely all want to go home rather than fight, the northerners will fear that only fighting can stop you from raiding their property eventually."
"So it's a toss up?" I asked, "Those don't seem like good odds."
"It's a good deal," Andras said, "It is possible I can convince some of the merits."
"Some, but not all," said Asala, "And Ferelden is ruled by its nobles, more than its King."
"The true power is with its Queen, now," the Warden-Commander smiled, "Alistair is a moral leader and a warrior of renown. A Grey Warden beyond compare except to Amell himself. But the political leader is Anora. She won't weigh the benefits of the deal to Ferelden alone, she will weigh whether or not the nobles will revolt if she accepts it. She will undoubtedly have come along to assure her role in any decisions that have to be made."
"Better hope fucking Teagan isn't there," I frowned, "I guarantee you he'll throw his weight behind an assault. Julie got riled up when they spoke. Not that she was wrong, but he took it badly."
"I would be more worried about Lord Cousland," Andras said, "Teagan alone could not swing things if his brother says the opposite. Fergus Cousland is a Teyrn, and Amaranthine falls legally within his terynir. He's my liege lord. If he says no, the deal is dead. He is a reasonable man, but he knows what loss truly means... and he might be afraid for his lands."
After all, it was his responsibility to care for and organise their safety, from the Waking Sea Bannorn to Amaranthine's own.
"What happens if you don't convince them?" Mariette asked, "To you, and our deal."
"I'll still gain the support of the nobles that wanted peace," Andras smiled, "I will seem like a reasonable person, with Ferelden's interests at heart. And as for our deal... well, if they don't accept it and you win the battle, I can honour it freely. If you don't, I can't."
If we lost the battle, marching into Amaranthine unopposed would be the least of our worries. But I was determined that we wouldn't lose. I turned on my radio, and climbed up onto the earthworks, in full view of the army.
"Okay people, the Warden-Commander is going forward," I said, "If things don't go well, we hold the line until they break and run. Good luck to you all."
"Don't worry Sam," Armen said back, "I'm sure they'll soil themselves after the first cannonade." Breaths of amusement came through on the line from multiple throats. Or perhaps, of nerves.
'If only' was my only thought of the possibility.
Andras rode through our line alone, approaching the Fereldan's own perimeter at an easy trot on a maroon destrier. To my great relief, she wasn't shot down as she did so, and was admitted pretty snappily past the sentries. By this point, the entire Royal Army had arrived, and almost all of it was across the bridge on our side. She rode across the bridge and into their camp, unobstructed.
Clearly, they hadn't yet decided on a strategy for dealing with us, or they would have tried to put it into action already, but it was guaranteed that they were in the midst of doing so. It was winter. The number of daylight hours was limited. We had disassembled our nightly camps in the dark hours of the morning every day so we could use the best use of every single daylight one, during our advance.
The Fereldans could not attack us wholesale at night, and it was likely they knew our forces had split by then. Julie and the rest of our army were only a day away, two at the most. They couldn't delay.
I thought it all boded well for Alistair and Anora accepting the deal. Having only a few hours of light left to attack a prepared position put the advantage squarely in our corner. The Warden-Commander would show up just as they were deciding how to handle that, with a peace plan. I could almost believe they would see sense at once, only memories of Teagan's utter refusal to face facts dampening my enthusiasm.
I was right to withhold absolute hope.
Less than an hour after Andras had entered the Ferelden camp, the Royal Army began spreading out into a line of battle from its bridgehead, matching the length of our line with ease and then some. The royal banners and the Grey Warden banners soon appeared at the bridge. The King was coming, and not in peace.
Andras reappeared from the Fereldan lines and galloped back up the Highway, stopping below my position. She shook her head at me. No joy. The deal had been refused.
I rubbed my face, utterly exasperated for a moment by the stubbornness of Fereldans, but forced myself into the mindset required for what was coming; killing. I waved Andras on, signalling for her to get back to Vigil's Keep. She did so, the centre of the lines parting to let her pass. I watched her go, before giving the orders.
"Okay, diplomacy has failed," I said over the radio, "Time to show the Fereldans why that is a bad thing."
"We're ready, Marquis," McNulty said from Hill 2, "Let them come."
"That's the spirit," I said, "All batteries, begin prep."
"Yes, Marquis," replied Locke, the Tranquil gunner as emotionless as ever.
The orders were relayed via the section commanders, and the nearest cannons became a hive of activity, as the Tranquil prepared the powder charges, piled up solid shot and canister rounds, and began placing the long-necked lyrium-grain fuzes into the shells to be fired. They did it all like it was a ritual, precise movements accomplished for the worship of the Goddess of War. Nervous wasn't something that the Tranquil got. It disgusted me that they couldn't, that this had been taken from them, even if it did help me.
A round helmet appeared in the lower part of my vision, and I found Ciara checking her daggers.
"Okay, you ready?" I said, "Stick with me, and don't do anything rash."
"I came to stop you doing anything rash," she replied with a smile, "Remember?"
"So did I," said Mariette from my right, a deep blue blob in my peripheral vision. Which made me a little itchy on that side.
Asala let a noise out of her throat that told all needed to let us know how reliable she thought Mariette was, before wandering off to join the regiment she was actually assigned to. This was slightly hypocritical of a woman who had watched me attack a mage and the abomination it spawned without appearing to break a sweat. That she had set on me. Lucky the Qun is unforgiving, their loss is very much our gain. But admittedly, Asala hadn't seen Mariette at work that day outside Vindargent.
Echoes of music rang out in the air, not our own Dalish fifes and drums, but a deeper beat.
Boom-boom-boom-ba-ba-ba-boom-boom-boom.
The Fereldens were beating the advance. Their wide line of longbowmen advanced across the field in front of us, their flanks covered with strong arrays of infantry, the edges of the marshy ground the only thing keeping them from spreading out even further. There was more than enough space for them to attack with their numbers, especially as Hill 1 could be attacked almost from three sides.
Which is why I had the bulk of the artillery placed on it, and why I had the Highlanders with me.
"Batteries one through four, load and fire," I ordered, "Battery five, load roundshot." Five being made up of the smoothbore cannons that we didn't have time to complete before Gaspard kicked us out of Orlais. Hell, most of their carriages were makeshift, especially compared to the ones used by their rifled cousins.
The Tranquil nearby grabbed the powder bags, rammed them home into the cannons. Most of us observed them, soldiers and officers alike, particularly as they did the same with the explosive shells, the ram-tools specially modified to allow the loading without setting them off. Even I had some trepidation at the batteries being so close; usually, we weren't in among the guns.
As the Tranquil completed the loading and began adjusting their aim, I began observing the Fereldans again through my binos. They were making good headway. The far-right of their line was already wheeling to get around on that side. I began to notice mages in the front ranks of most of the units as I scanned from right to left, and their staves were beginning to glow. Cold shot through my gut. They were about to do something spectacular.
The cannons fired almost as one, the roar of superheated gas sending their shells whirring off into the air.
Less than a second later, the entire front line of the Fereldan Army disappeared behind an immense green cloud of fog, flowing outwards from dozens of points along it. As the shells landed, the cloaking of the entire force was complete. We heard the explosions, the flashes turning the fog luminous for split seconds, strobing for a few seconds. I had little doubt we had a good effect on target too; our gunners' aim was true.
But now we were blind, robbing us of the accuracy and firepower advantage we had at range. Worse, the fog was billowing towards us. The Fereldans were still advancing.
"Fuck," I thought aloud, "That's not good."
To pile on more misery, a swarm of arrows dived out of the mists and among our crossbow troops, the forward most position we had. The unfortunate women would have been turned into pincushions if they weren't hiding in foxholes, but that didn't stop some of the arrows hitting home. The shots came in high arcs, more or less at their maximum range, so the digging in we had done down there was less useful.
Poor girls took arrowheads to the shoulders and into their collars, and would have to the head if it wasn't for their helmets. A second volley followed, and a third. They climbed out of their foxholes bleeding and screaming with pain, their comrades doing the same, gathering the wounded and dying under arms and over their shoulders. They began retreating in disarray. My heart burned with fury.
And all the while, the rumbling beyond got louder and louder. The fog advanced, almost swallowing our retreating troops, before stopping dead again.
"Barris, back to the second line!" I ordered, "They're coming!"
Another two volleys of arrows pierced the ground or ricocheted away on the cobblestones of the Highway, but didn't catch any more of my people. At least as far as I could see. The fog was beginning to eat the vista.
"Formez deux rangs!" Soprano commanded from behind me, her voice carrying in the air, "Baïonnettes!"
The firelancers, initially deployed to fire at their own individual targets, gathered towards my position. They came together in two ranks in the main trench behind the abatis, as it wound in a gentle semi circle, punctuated by cannon. As they began snapping their bayonets on, I couldn't help but reflect that it looked more like something out of Earth's First World War, right down to the hobnailed boots, stahlhelms and the green gas advancing towards us.
The casualties we could do without..
The cannons fired their second volley in a Mexican wave, the shells sending the magical smoke whirling and shifting, muzzle flashes reflected off of it. It was getting darker out, the sun an hour off of setting. The detonations were a lot closer this time, the Tranquil gunners approximating where the enemy had been, in the way I had told them to back when we were training them up. The reward for my foresightedness on that was muffled screams, and soon after, the ferrous stench you'd expect.
But if I could hear them that clearly and could smell them, they were closer than I had thought. They had made it to the bottom of the hill already, cleared the marshes. A bolt of fear went through me. At the rate they were moving, the Fereldans would be up and over us in no time. They weren't wasting a single second of the tactical advantage they had gained through the concealment of the smoke.
They'd have to slow when they got to the abatis, and we'd likely see them at that point. And they'd see us.
"Barriers," I said into my mouthpiece, "Now!"
The order went around, and the slight blue glow of magical barriers shone around the bodies of my troops, shattering into the incorporeal glass shards as it tried to contact my own. I looked around, making sure everyone was protected. Ciara and Mariette were glowing slightly, Ciara smiling up at me knowing I was now the only one without such protection. The Rangers to my left were the same. Asala and the Highlanders were glowing green, the barrier magic of the Avvar mages operating on a somewhat different principle, but they weren't going to be taking fire easily.
Just in time too.
Like a blizzard, the unnatural smoke gave way to whole flurries of magical bolts; fire, ice, electricity whipped past the trench line in waves. I ducked, Ciara ducked, the entire line ducked, sheltering behind the earthworks. The Fereldans might as well have been using machineguns. How the hell they had come up with the idea of suppressive fire, I don't know, but it was damned effective. Not a man or woman present wanted to put themselves in the way of that.
Except I was immune to it, so I soon thought myself stupid for reacting like that.
I needed to see what was coming, and give the troops a chance to use their firelances. So I crouch-shuffled to a place I thought I wouldn't bring the attacks down into the ranks nearby, and where I could avoid being spotted by any bowmen. I certainly wasn't immune to arrows, not even temporarily like my troops were.
The sight before me was heart-stopping.
Attempting to negotiate the tangled mesh of sharpened branches and felled tree-trunks was a regiment or two of silverite-clad, heavily armed soldiers. Swordsmen, archers, mages. The blue-and-silver Griffon banner hanging over them alongside the red-and-gold of the Fereldan Mabari. The Grey Wardens and the sworn-swords of the Warden-Commander in person. To the left, swordsmen in far greater numbers were advancing too, relying on mass rather than quality to think to get the job done.
As I had planned, the abatis' combination of random post-holes, stakes, sharpened trunks and animal waste were working wonders at slowing them down. But their mages kept up their fire, seeming unusually resilient to fatigue and mana-loss, and it was only a matter of time before we were in for a world of hurt.
"Marquis, this is McNulty," came a voice over the radio, firelance cracks echoing over the line, "I've got the King's Banner right in front of me, Maker-damned dogs jumping through the obstacles, and cavalry behind them! I need reinforcements!"
That was more than I thought the Fereldans would have thrown at Hill 2. It was higher at its peak, better protected by the marsh, had deeper defensive works, and it was further away from the bridge. The guns and firelancers I had placed there would get an extra volley off before things got personal. It was the dogs that were the trouble. They'd save the Fereldans a volley or two, and that might be enough to grind the two regiments up there into the dirt. Not that cracking the Grenadiers would be any small task.
"The centre is being showered with arrows, Marquis," said Barris, "But we can hold." The pikemen wore full plate armour, so I certainly hoped so. The space between the two hills was still obscured with magical smoke, even if the approaches to them from the front were not, but I could see the dark forms of arrow shafts falling even from where I was. I hadn't thought it possible to be further impressed with the detail of Fereldan planning, but there it was.
We still had superior firepower. What we needed to do was use it. Quickly.
"They're trying to take both hills," I said, "I've got Grey Wardens coming up at me, the ones Andras released for military service. Barris, send me up your Templars and send your crossbows to McNulty.
Velarana, break off your Aequitarians from Baronne de Villars' command, and join McNulty's position.
De Villars, Isewen, form up to attack as we discussed on my order."
"Yes, Marquis!" came back, a reply henceforth returned without emotion.
"Soprano, prepare for volley fire," I added at last. The tattooed elf nodded at me from her position down the line, giving me a thumbs up before undoubtedly growling her orders to her runners.
Ciara and Mariette had snuck over to me in the mean time, bows nocked for the quickdraw.
"What about them?" asked Mariette, nudging her head at the Avvars to my extreme right.
"They're exactly where they need to be," I replied, "And they know what to do."
"So what do we do?" Ciara asked.
"You stay down," I sighed, "I'll do something bad for my health."
The Grey Wardens were almost half-way through the abatis, which was a lot closer than I would have liked them to get. I cocked the charging handle of my heavy firelance, and waited for the right moment. The Tranquil were turning the gleaming guns once more, well shielded by the attending Libertarians even with all the attention they brought.
How appropriate that silverite artillery would be used to kill men wearing silverite.
The cannons roared. The frontal batteries's smoothbore barrels raked the abatis with roundshot in enfilade, shooting from their positions closer to the centre outwards through the packed Fereldan lines to their right. The rifled cannons behind joined in very quickly afterwards, explosive shells.
The effect was the mangling of more men and women than I care to overly think about.
The roundshot tore through the warriors and the defences with equal abandon, whatever magical protections the former had meaning nothing against the sheer kinetic energy. The explosive rounds followed up, targeting the men-at-arms rather than the Wardens due to the danger of hitting us. They have to have been among the unluckiest bastards to have ever lived. The shells hit heads and shoulders due to the angles, and thus detonated at head and shoulder height... liquefying and shattering heads and shoulders.
I felt a wave of nausea ride over me, glad that everyone else had been ducking down and were ignorant of it all, but it was no time for that. I mercilessly beat the feeling down.
The Fereldans wavered, trying to grab any cover they could and finding none to be had. The Wardens as much as the men-at-arms. The moment to act had come.
I was at the 'hinge' of our line between the Highlanders and the Rangers, where I could have seen almost everything in theory. Certainly I could see every single Warden. I stood up, set my firelance on its bipod, put the buttplate to my shoulder and my cheek to the stock, took aim and fired.
I had one category of target; Warden mages and archers. The combination of their superior magic, excellent armour and the reputation of their comrades made them an intolerable triple threat. I swept from the edge of the Warden line on the right inwards towards the centre, giving three round bursts. Fish in a friggin' barrel doesn't begin to describe it. Ciara and Mariette also stood up, to put their archery to good use. Ill-advisedly.
Together, we stitched them up good.
Soprano and the Avvars saw their own moment to strike. The artillery had broken up the enemy advance, my own attack had stunned the most dangerous part of it completely.
Our own mages let loose first. Not with multiple, rapid bolts, but with large concentrations of elemental power, as they had been instructed to do. Fireballs sailed forwards, glowing brighter than the sun was through the clouds. Ice burst up from the mud in great stalagmites. Lightning bolts fell from the sky, not visible themselves except as bright afterimages on your retina. The barriers of the Fereldans, men-at-arms and Wardens both, shattered. Men burned, were impaled, were electrocuted. Still they came on.
The bravery left me utterly breathless, incredulous that people could stand suffering to such a degree and keep moving.
Then the Rangers rose up.
"Levez-vous!" cried the sergeant nearest me at the top of her voice, "Levez-vous maintenant!"
The Rangers shoved themselves off the ground, practically throwing their full body weight plus that of their armour. They came together in order without further command, a wall made of soldiers, muskets and gleaming bayonets, behind the piled dirt in front of them. The Avvars did the same, an arrows in one hand, bows and their next arrows in the other. The Fereldans could likely only see them from the chest up at best.
"EN JOUE!"
The firelancers cocked the flints of their weapons, the clicking jarring to the ear. The barrels were levelled, the second ranks aiming over the shoulders of the first. Our Highlanders nocked and drew their weapons, aiming them for direct shots. I imagine even the Wardens feared what was about to happen; they tried again to duck.
"FEU!"
The volleys of the regiments closer to the centre crackled forth first, before the ones nearest me added their own fire. The bullets rippled through the Fereldans, and they fell in rows. The Avvars' arrows followed in afterwards, introducing a little more chaos to the killing. Our opponents were slipping over the dead and wounded, a seething mass of injured people as far as I could tell.
At least, among the regular men-at-arms. The Wardens and Silverguards fared far better. They fell in equal numbers, but those who had taken shots to the chest seemed to be alive for the most part.
Silverite can just about save a man from a lead minié ball, if it's thick enough and you've got good padding underneath. But you'll still break some ribs and get the breath knocked out of you long enough that you might still die. And the chest is the only area that really works for. Still, good thing it's hugely expensive if you don't control a source directly. It doesn't work so well against jacketed spitzer rounds.
Regardless, it looked to me like the whole Fereldan left was wavering before the three bodyblows we had just delivered to them. They were wide eyed. None were still on their feet, but none wanted to lay down in the blood and guts around them either, so they were only half-crawling. They were splattered with both ichor and mud.
The Tranquil were mere seconds away from unleashing the canister shot on them, because they were very nearly out of the abatis. The firelancers would be able to put a second volley out soon after that. The Avvars were now taking potshots with their bows, keeping the Fereldans down.
I felt myself lift with the triumph. By every military science I am aware of, their attack should have been defeated right there. I believed we had stopped them.
But there are moments in history where one person truly can make the difference.
I was in the process of reloading my weapon when I noticed a single figure, standing. A Grey Warden, by her armour. I knew it was a her from the form-fitting cut of the scaled silverite armour, with blue cloth. She was a mage too, which was the important part. Her staff was raised over her winged silverite helmet, and a bubble of fire was growing from its tip. It grew from a pinhead to the size of a car in maybe three seconds.
I didn't even have time to say 'Oh shit!', or complete my reloading, before it flew right at the intersection of the Ranger and Highlander regiments. That is to say, right at me.
You might think that I would be unconcerned, but who was standing right beside me?
I didn't feel anything in particular as I began to act, which I hope means that my actions were so automatic because of who I was protecting.
I let go of my weapon, letting the sling catch in. With my arms free, I stepped in front of Ciara and Mariette. What the latter was thinking was still concealed by her mask, but Ciara looked like she might turn to ash before the fire even reached her. She was going as white as a sheet, and it probably would have taken a crowbar to get her jaws to open.
Struggling to avoid the very pointy arrows in their hands, I curled my arms around their necks and drew them tight up against me, their heads tucked in at my chest.
The fireball landed only a yard or two behind me, on the top edge of the earthworks.
The flames burst forth to either side of me, bright orange waves roiling past like a tsunami. Whatever process that protected me from magic parted them, creating a shadow of safety in front of me. Ciara and Mariette were within it, only just. The tip of Mariette's bow caught fire, like a candle.
Others were not so fortunate. My soldiers had seen the magic coming, and they weren't stupid enough to stand around waiting to get burned alive. They scrambled away, or jumped aside. But they weren't fast enough.
The conflagration swept straight past us and into the edges of both the Highlander and Ranger regiments, catching the outer platoons. The flames seemed alive, tracking and homing in towards the living. They swallowed the men and women whole. The barriers around the troops shattered first, unable to maintain protection against an attack that came from all directions. Next came the searing of flesh red and then black. Our people fell to the ground in piles, the leather of their plate-carriers cracked, their shining weapons covered in soot, their skin like coal, their hair gone. The smell was indescribable.
Not one who had been touched escaped with their life. Worse, the defences were ablaze at the corner section where we were, making them as much a danger and an impediment to us as they were to the Fereldans.
Sick with fury, I released Ciara and Mariette to complete the process of reloading my firelance. My companions both recoiled from the sight around them. The soldiers were trying their level best not to look either, as they rammed home the bullets into their own firelances mere feet away from the dead. The Rangers were all veterans, they handled that with aplomb. The nightmares could come later.
I clicked my weapon closed and looked at the enemy. They had rallied and were advancing once more, less than fifty yards away at most. They were being drawn in, and wouldn't be running away. I grabbed my mouthpiece.
"De Villars, attack now," I said, "Ignore the forces on the hills until their centre is routing."
The plan had been to attack just as the enemy was running away from the blooding we were to give them, but that shit had gone straight out the window as soon as we couldn't see them. No point leaving the chevaliers sitting on ass.
"It shall be done, Marquis," Blondie replied.
"All forces on Hill 2," I continued, "Move to redoubt position." Where all but one of our artillery was.
There was no acknowledgement this time. The Tranquil started the retreat by grabbed their gun carriages, lifting up the arms of the things, and hauling them backwards rapidly, one or two gathering the powder kegs. The rest of the firelancers and Highlanders followed suit right behind them. Satisfied that they were doing so in good order, I turned to make see what the enemy was doing.
I winced as a flash of white light half blinded me. The Grey Warden mage from before stood before me, half flash-stepped through the smoking ruins of our defences to go on the attack. It was a Warden-Constable, she had the same markings on her armour as Oghren had. She seemed as bewildered to see us as we were to see her. We all scrambled for weapons.
The mage got there first. She raised her spare hand and summoned a spirit blade, but unlike any I had ever seen a knight-enchanter summon. A giant, yellow curve, like a scimitar, and it seems she required no specialised hilt to do so, making it materialise out of thin air. She brought her curled fist down, coming down at my neck from a damned good angle to decapitate me.
Except the blade broke in two and disappeared as soon as it came within a hair's breath of me.
I got to my weapon next. She was far too close for the heavy firelance, so my hand had went to the mace hanging off my hip. I swiped at her without particular effort as to judging where I wanted to hit, and the head of the mace slammed into the side of her helmet. I must have put enough force onto it, because her helmet fell off, revealing deep black hair, neck length. The second strike was far more precise, placing the full force of the backstroke onto her collar. The bone cracked, and she fell to her knees.
It was at this point that everyone else joined the fray. Mariette gave the mage a kick to the head, for good measure. Lucky for the raven-haired mage, the harlequin was not wearing her dagger-shoes. Ciara loosed an arrow, but not at the mage. The rest of the Grey Wardens were emerging from the burning wreckage beside us. My companion made her mark, but the arrow stuck out of the silverite breastplate of her target, having done little.
I changed my mace over to my left hand, took hold of my firelance's grip, and squeezed off a long spray of bullets to dissuade them from charging us. That many could have easily overwhelmed us. Not sure I hit a single one of them, but the tracers flying through the air sure had them shitting themselves.
When I was sure they wouldn't have time to close the distance, I grabbed Mariette, who looked like she was going to go full American History X on the Warden Mage.
"Back!" I shouted.
We all ran like hell to the redoubt line, the firelancers and Highlanders waiting with the freshly arrived Templars. We heard a rumble behind us, that told me either that the Grey Wardens were not wasting time in chasing us or that our own cavalry had just rounded the hill to charge. In truth, it was both, but I wasn't about to stop and check.
Upon reaching the redoubt line, we knelt down in front of the Rangers, just as they took aim as one body to release another volley. Being so close to the muzzles over our heads, the cracks of the firelances were half-deafening. I let another few bursts go for luck too. Still more of the enemy fell.
The Wardens and Silverguards were far fewer in number now, as were the sword units to the right, but they still thought they could take us. They had to be near the end. We almost were, and we hadn't trekked up a hill under shell and canister fire. Yet they'd make it before the Tranquil could put more grapeshot into their ranks to convince them of that reality. Only one thing for it.
"Cold steel!" I ordered, rising to my feet.
"SOLDATS, PREPAREZ-VOUS A L'ATTAQUE!" came the order from Soprano.
The rebel yell went up from the Rangers, and the Avvars joined in, the former bringing their firelances into position to best use the long blades on them, the latter foregoing their longbows for longswords. Asala, Cormac and Aoife stepped in front of their troops.
"CHARGEZ!"
"CHARGE!"
Yelling like banshees, the whole line burst out of the redoubt and straight at the Fereldans. The remaining mages in our ranks struck theirs first, creating at least three dozen running magical duels between the two forces as we closed. At least until the Templar section let loose with their Smites, and magical capability of the entire flank died.
The Rangers met the Wardens and their vassals head on, the tight ranks something the enemy had no answer for now. 'Force Concentration' in action. All the Wardens could do was hold fast, parrying as many thrusts from our soldiers as they could.
On our left, the regular firelancers closed with the swordsmen, which was far less in our favour numerically, but far more in our favour in terms of the equipment. Silverite bayonets cut through iron and steel chainmail like butter.
The Highlanders' line stretched beyond that of the Wardens, and the Avvars took the opportunity to envelop the Silverguards on the right, almost surrounding them and greatly outnumbering them. Of course, they didn't have silverite weapons and were facing troops wearing the stuff, so they were going to need the numbers.
Particularly as the Fereldans seemed to have no intention of giving up. If anything, their morale seemed to rise now that they were stuck in. Our own determination was unshaken by this either. We didn't have the option of running away after all, the Fereldans certainly did.
Mariette followed along, slipping in between the fighting men and women to deliver lethal blows with her dagger to either side of mine and Ciara's advance through the Warden centre. With the benefit of hindsight, I have to say I was too busy watching her, keeping one eye on her at all times. Her attacks against distracted foes among their compatriots were both extremely impressive and extremely dangerous.
Which is why I didn't see the gleaming axe coming at me until it was too late. A man at least my equal in stature, with long black hair and harsh eyes, covered in armour and the blue of the Warden Order, swung straight for my head. Kevlar's great for stopping ballistic attacks; arrows, smaller bullets, shrapnel, that sort of thing. But it's really not great for stopping an axe of any sort.
I brought up my firelance sideways to parry the attack, the attacker being too close for me to use it on him. The axe bit into the barrel just shy of the receiver, travelling half way through before being stopped, rendering the whole thing useless as a weapon. Which rendered me entirely defenceless unless I could get my mace again before the second strike.
If it hadn't been for Ciara, I would have been cut to little pieces.
She appeared in front of me, crouching and swinging her dagger about. She sliced open the man's sleeve, but not deeply enough to actually cut him. I saw that he was a Constable too, his symbol of rank hanging off a small golden chain. It seems he had been looking for me as much as I had been for him. I whipped the mace off my hip once more, pulling the firelance off of me and dropping it to the muddy ground. It was useless now anyway.
He swung again in a wide arc, missing me and sending Ciara dodging away. Mariette pressed, trying to use his attention on Ciara to advantage, but she was outmatched, finding her dagger thrusts countered with attacks aimed at her hands. The last one hit home, impacting her left wrist at the end of a swing, her dagger flying from her hand into the ground. She wisely backed off before I could tell her to.
Ciara went in for another hit, drawing blood this time along the Constable's arm with an upward stab. He responded with a vicious kick to her leg, sending my companion sprawling into the mud and blood below. A couple of the Rangers dragged her back before he could finish her, but that wasn't his intention.
With both Mariette and Ciara out of the way, he rounded on me, parrying a bayonet stab to approach me. We began trading blows, mace versus axe, small shields for defence. I knew at once that he would get the better of me. I was trained for riot control for a couple of months. This guy had a great deal more training in close quarters armed combat than that. Every time I attacked, he was ready with a riposte. Every time he attacked, I just barely got out of his way.
I figured all I needed was to delay, to wait until the Rangers beside me got to him in numbers. An idea that was reinforced by the fuzzy sight of Avvars beginning to surround the Wardens and Silverguards from behind. What I thought were positive reports from McNulty and De Villars filled my ear over the radio, but I couldn't make out what they were saying and fight the Constable at the same time.
The bastard must have figured out I was stalling, because his aggression rose all of a sudden. His axe slapped away my mace, and he delivered a swift kick straight between my legs. I fell back on my ass in agony, having not expected such a low blow, literally, eyes watering. He hovered over me for a moment, hesitating to strike.
"I am Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe!" he declared rapidly, "And I do this for Ferel..."
Not about to let him execute me, I lashed out with my foot into his knee. He staggered, allowing me to get away another step, my head still swimming with pain. He looked outraged that I had interrupted him, which made me feel immensely better, but not as good as just afterwards.
As he rose again to resume killing me, presumably with a great deal less showmanship this time, the silver-headed eagle dove out of the rapidly darkening sky and clawed him in the face. He waved his axe angrily, wondering what had just happened, but the eagle didn't give him the time to retaliate, beating its wings hard to climb into the air once more. It looked like he might have lost an eye, but either way, one was filled with blood.
Which is when Mariette reappeared, a dark blue figure darting between the lines almost on her hands and knees. She came from the side he was likely unable to see, and sliced him along his thigh, and attempted to stab him in the lower torso. The armour deflected the second attack, but by some miracle, he was still standing despite the ichor pouring from his leg. He was trying to get at Mariette again, but she was just as swift as she had been when she had danced rings around me.
I went over, shuffled over is probably more accurate, and gave him an eye for an eye. A swift kick to the injured leg, followed up with a full body punch to the head. The Warden-Constable crumpled to the floor, knees first before falling backwards onto his back, unconscious. The thought of smashing his skull in crossed my mind, though the need to double over and recover from my own misery was fairly overwhelming.
His fellow Wardens weren't inclined just yet to let that slide, and came past their colleagues to avenge him.
A white-fletched arrow flew over my right shoulder to stop the first. A fusiliade of five or six firelances came over my left to stop the rest. All a little too close for comfort. I ducked, thinking that more could be coming, but none did. At last, the Grey Wardens seemed to be cowed. They were disengaging, backing off into a pocket surrounded by the Rangers and Highlanders on all sides. They knew we had their leader, it seemed.
"Lay down your arms!" I wheezed, "Surrender and you won't be harmed!"
The click of flint hammers being pulled back on firelances followed my words, the retreat of the enemy allowing our people to reload their weapons. The rapidly closing darkness of evening lending itself to a divine interpretation of the moment, the Wardens and Silverguards saw the futility of continued resistance right then and there. They stuck their swords in the ground on the outer edge of what remained of their formation, and backed away.
I waved the troops forward to seize them, and doubled over hands-on-knees, half with relief, half to soothe my aching.
Soprano and Ciara padded up from behind, accompanied by a platoon of firelancers and a squad of Templars. Mariette joined us too, pulling her mask off and releasing her long blonde hair.
"Marquis, my apologies," said Soprano, "You weren't answering the radio. We thought you were dead."
"I am," I groaned back, "Report, General."
"We have won, sir," Soprano replied, "Look for yourself."
I did so, scanning the rest of the battlefield. The Fereldan centre and right was in flight to my left. Our Guards and Lancers were running riot, having taken the infantry and longbowmen in the centre respectively in the flanks. The firelancers on our own hill nearest the Highway were pouring fire on retreating columns of sword and spearmen. On the other hill, there was another pocket of Fereldans surrounded by our troops. Including the Royal Banner.
"How?" I asked.
"McNulty and Barris held the line, De Villars broke their centre, and Colonel Velarana captured the King, my lord," Soprano continued, "He was unable to use his Templar abilities for some reason."
Like I said, one person can change the course of a battle or history itself. Velarana did more than change the course of a battle that day. A fact she would never let anyone forget, but she earned the bragging rights by delivering victory from the jaws of defeat.
"Get Markham down here with the Hospitallers," I said, straightening up, "And send Colonel Velarana to me at once."
"At once, yes sir."
After the surprise the enemy had pulled out to nearly confound us, nearly neutralising the whole technological advantage we had, it was good discipline and the initiative of my officers that had won the day.
The debriefing on what had happened elsewhere on the battlefield was very interesting indeed.
In the centre, Armen and Barris came under a concerted attack. Longbows kept the entire section static, our mages having to concentrate hard on maintaining the magical barriers. With Teagan in command, the Fereldans sent in their own Templars to counteract the magic there, allowing the infantry and longbowmen to press the attack against the pikes.
Once the Wardens on our right had cleared the floodplain, the cavalry under De Villars and Isewen thundered around the Wardens' rear and straight into the side of the Fereldan centre attack, breaking it and sending those further along fleeing for their lives..
The attack on our left, against McNulty, was led by King Alistair himself. The light infantry and wardogs of the Ash Warriors went in first, to clear the abatis with light axes and distract the firelancers and Grenadiers. They were followed by the Kingsguard, the Knights of Fereldan and the Highever infantry under Fergus Cousland. This combination very nearly broke our left flank, despite huge Fereldan casualties, until Barris' crossbows arrived to plug the gaps.
The Fereldans still managed to get well inside the trenchline defences though, and McNulty too had been pushed back to his redoubt positions when Colonel Velarana arrived with the mounted Aequitarians. Shock cavalry action combined with magic is a very powerful combination. The Colonel repelled the far-right flank of the Fereldan Army and rode along the first trench line to envelop the Kingsguard, pummelling them with magical attacks during the entire manoeuvre. The coup de grace was delivered by the entire Aequitarian contingent Fade-stepping off of their horses, spirit blades at the ready, taking the fight in close.
There are myths that Velarana personally duelled Alistair, but they are unfortunately apocryphal. Alistair ordered a surrender once he was sure that anything else would get his entire Kingsguard killed. This sent the rest of the Fereldan right into retreat, at about the same time that Blondie was crashing into their centre with her chevaliers, although it was far more orderly.
The price for this victory was staggering. Fully half of the eleven thousand troops taken into battle were casualties, and very few of those were walking wounded. One thousand two hundred dead, the rest injured badly enough to be laid up for at least a few days. Some would still be recovering two months later. If we didn't have Markham, they would have died, more likely than not.
How many Fereldans died or were injured, I can't say. We couldn't count, the field before us was a scene of mass murder. We healed up those we had captured, those that would let us. We had taken two thousand prisoners, most of whom we released immediately after disarming them, as we had no means to imprison them. Those that escaped, we couldn't pursue. Night fell less than an hour after the Fereldan rout.
We kept the Wardens, the Kingsguard and the King, who was himself injured, taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. Markham put him under to heal him, so I wouldn't speak to the man that night.
Nathaniel Howe and the other Warden-Constable, Bethany Hawke, survived their wounds too. To Warden-Commander Andras' great delight. They'd play their parts in the months to come.
I promoted Velarana on the spot to General, placing all the mages under her direct command. She graciously accepted the promotion. She might not have won the political fight, yet, but she deserved at least that much. Mariette also got a commission in the Army, at the rank of Major, my trust in her now firmly established. She gave me a kiss in return, which was far from platonic, but taken by all present to be affection rather than lust. I offered Ciara any number of things to honour her, she accepted only Howe's silverite axe.
At the end of the day, we had held our position and protected that vital route to Amaranthine. Our people were saved. I went to bed physically and mentally exhausted, with a prayer to God to send Julie and the rest of the Army as fast as possible and to have Tam wake up already.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The showdown!
This was an absolute bitch to write, and I'm sure there'll be some inconsistencies as a result, but I'm quite happy with the overall feel of it.
In other news, I have begun the mapping out of the major battles of this series. Sahrnia is already complete, and this battle is almost so, as I wrote it while creating the maps for it. If anyone wants to recommend a place for me to put them up, that would be great. Imgur or deviantart maybe?
Meathouse: Here's an update at a more reasonable hour... for some.
Noblescar: Have to remember that the Grey Wardens get involved in politics too. Particularly in Tevinter and Orlais.
Katkiller-V: Weisshaupt's going to have its own problems soon enough...
The occupation of Amaranthine begins next chapter, look forward to it.
On Julie, the days of her unchallenged rule will be coming to an end fairly shortly.
As for setting up a new country, your analysis isn't wrong on the face of it... but the situation can change. Remember that there's some serious mercantile and manufacturing knowledge available in the refugee pool. Tiberius' objectives are far more immediate though. Where Sam is doesn't matter so much as getting the exact thing required..
thepkrmgc: Gregoir being a fair and rational actor doesn't change his ideology though.
ImHavok795: You ordered more. Here's some.
5 Coloured Walker: Thanks as always for the nitpicks.
The current date as of this chapter is November 9:39, years after the events of Kirkwall and DA2. Including the Arishok's defeat at the hands of Hawke.
Orlais has blackpowder, it doesn't have the capability to actually manufacture designs for the weapons necessarily. Yet. And Orlais is in the middle of civil war, it'll take some time before it'll be expanding.
Infieri: Markham is a crotchety old bastard... but I guess he's got a heart of gold.
The Circle of the Free Army is pretty famous among mages by this stage, and both the Orlesian mages and the Templars are watching the newcomers. That's not to say it'll always be happy days, but it's more than enough to assure it for now.
Phygmalion: The sheer number of fics where a self-insert or another original character knows about Dragon Age sort of annoyed me. This was written almost as a foil to that genre. Glad to see it is effective in that role.
Transcendant: You've touched on what will be more or less the central theme for the Amaranthine chapters and the entire next volume. Lots for you to look out for in the near future.
WhisperInTheTrees: Very high praise indeed. To the extent that I'm encouraged to write my original stuff, including an original version of this story (the idea for which I adapted for DA). Though I have absolutely no idea why a person would read a Dragon Age fanfic without knowing Dragon Age, I'm not even sure this story is entirely comprehensible without knowing a decent bit of the canon.
Glad you are entertained.