a/n- To any of you who are still reading this, here is my Thanksgiving present to you. Have a battle! Seriously, this is more or less 3500 words of the battle of Haven leading up to the meeting of Corypheus. Enjoy. And please, someone take the time to review? I know I am actually just writing the game right now, but I add moments in and I really want to know how they are working.
From Fire to Ashes
The red Templars fell upon Haven's walls. To Enya, they were endless. Like a sea, they crashed into the Inquisition's forces. Their armor was thick, well made and each swing of her sword fell against it with a dulled but resounding clang. Her blade had seen many battles, and she realized that if she weren't careful, it would become useless before the night was out.
She had seen occasional fighting, fought demons that poured from rifts or bandits that chose to prey on her Clan. This was different. Those skirmishes were nothing compared to the battle that now assaulted her. Blood splashed her face, clotted in her hair. Enya could fight far better than when she first joined the Inquisition and for that, she was glad. None of the blood she that spattered her was her own but that made it no less disturbing. She dispatched yet another of the Templar footsoldiers and jumped to the side just in time to miss a red lyrium projectile. A strangled cry filtered through the icy air and she spun. Shock was frozen on the face of the soldier that had stood behind her. From his neck protruded the shard and his mouth dripped a stream of crimson as he collapsed to the blood-stained snow.
The first wave of the Elder One's forces fell under the powerful hand of the Inquisition. Cullen had trained his men well, but they were still only recruits, volunteers. She could see it in Cassandra's eyes when the Divine's Right Hand fell in line, shoulder to shoulder with her and they pushed through the dwindling forces to the first trebuchet. A second wave was on its way. Enya felt the silken energy of a barrier falling over her and flicked her gaze to Solas. She'd lost track of him in the initial onslaught. Varric, stood atop a stack of crate, firing at the oncoming horde. He turned to them while reloading Bianca and shouted over the cacophony of battle.
"You might want to try firing that thing!"
Enya glanced at Cassandra. The Seeker gave her a curt nod and drew her shield up before her, sword at the ready. Sheathing her own weapon, Enya took up a position behind her and turned the wheel to tighten the trebuchet. Her eyes fixed on the mountain above the army. From the stage, she could only see part of it, but atop that tall outcrop in the middle of the far hillside she could see the Elder One, watching the battle. For a moment, she thought their gazes locked, but the creature soon looked away. The trebuchet clicked free. The boulder flew out of its sling. She watched it arch through the air, but the aim was wrong. Instead of striking the center of the snow on the mountain it fell onto the enemy higher up the pass. No doubt it took out several but not enough to lessen the river of the Elder One's forces. They needed haste before the army got too close.
"Fenedhis!"
A small contingent of soldiers fell onto the trebuchet around them.
"We've got this one, Herald," A woman with spotted cheeks and grey-brown eyes reached for the crank, "We'll reload. The other trebuchet hasn't fired yet."
"Thank you."
Enya nodded and gestured to her companions. They left, slaying any Red Templar straggler that crossed their path. Soldiers lay in a bloody array around the second trebuchet when they arrived. The Templars that surrounded it took several moments to react to their arrival. Varric pierced one's chestplate with a well-aimed arrow, and Solas encased one in ice before these attackers even noticed the group of four's presence. Enya rushed the soldier Solas had frozen and brought her blade down hard on his disfigured shoulder. The soldier shattered in a spray of pinkish frost and she tried not to look at his face. One of the red Templars, whose armour bore a great sigil on its front, retaliated, slamming Solas with power that seemed to drain him. The barrier around Enya wavered, weakening. She dispatched the soldier closest to her and brought her sword hard around to the side, knocking Solas' assailant back.
The barrier around Enya returned to full strength. She flung herself against the Templar again, trying anything to keep him distracted. A gale force wind picked up around her and snow swirled, turning into chunks of ice that disintegrated on her shield. The temperature around her fell and she watched as the Templars' movements slowed, chilled by the frigid air. She redoubled her efforts on the captain. Varric imbedded an arrow in the head of one of the mutated soldiers whose hunched, grey back sprouted red lyrium. Cassandra's heavy shield bash finally knocked back another of the powerful soldiers far enough that when he redoubled his efforts, her blade pierced his belly. Grim satisfaction took Enya when the captain fell before her.
With the enemy eliminated for the time being, Cassandra rushed past Enya to re-aim the trebuchet. Enya rolled her shoulders and neck, aware of stinging pain on her forearm. She didn't want to look down to see it. It was not bad enough to be a concern. Her chest heaved, trying to draw in as much of the thin, mountain air as possible.
"Ready," Cassandra called out.
Enya tightened the winch until the lock slipped free of the sling. The payload soared high and true. There was a breath of air, where all sound faded into the ether as the massive stone sunk into the fresh powder of the mountainside. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the wrath of the avalanche as it started its slide. The deafening rumble of stone, ice and snow sent chills racing through her spine. The groan of snapping pines assaulted her ears and the screams of the red Templars buried alive under the tide of snow and rubble wound knots in her belly. But the Inquisition was safe.
She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. A cheer began, rising to the scarred Heavens from the throats of tired Inquisition soldiers who tasted their victory. Enya allowed herself a smile, thanked the Creators that at least in this they had succeeded.
A screech rent the cold night air around them. She sunk low, drew her blade and lifted her eyes to the sky. At first all she could see was the dark expanse of the clouds, but then they opened to reveal a great beast. It gave another great cry, chilling her blood in her veins. She looked from the creature, the archdemon, she suspected, and the gestured frantically to her companions.
"Go!" Enya took several steps backward, unable to tear her eyes away from the ragged dragon in the sky, "Run!"
Her boots slipped on the bloody snow as she hurried out of the way. Enya threw a glance over her shoulder and spotted Varric behind her as the archdemon descended on them. She paused and grabbed the shoulder of Varric's coat. With all of her might, she dragged him forward, thrusting him out before her. The dragon swooped over their heads, raining a ball of foul, red magic down upon the trebuchet.
The shockwave of the impact threw Enya into the air. Pain gripped her as she slammed back into the ground, rolling several times. Why? She asked. Blood ran over the skin of her cheek from a cut at her hairline. She shook her head and pushed herself back up. Her eyes darted around, looking for Cassandra, Varric and Solas. They seemed unharmed; she'd been the closest. Cassandra took a few steps toward her, brow furrowed. Enya swiped a hand across her cut forehead and shook her head at her friend. With a deep breath, she hurried to catch up.
Harrit kicked at the crates that had fallen in front of the door of his house.
"I just need ta' get me father's 'ammer. Some supplies," He called.
Enya drew her sword and brought it down hard on the boxes. The blacksmith rushed into his house. Looking ahead, she spotted Cullen at the gate beckoning in soldiers. Even from this distance she could see his panic. Creators, how can this have happened? Her gaze traveled to the sky as more of the dragon's cursed fire poured down upon the outer defenses. One moment, they'd tasted triumph, but now? Haven was hardly equipped to protect against an Archdemon. The buildings were wooden cottages, tents erected to serve as shelter. There were too many people…
"Herald!" Cullen called out to her party as they approached, "Inside, quickly!"
Cassandra helped the former Templar bar the gates as a spray of the dragon's fire splashed against them. Tucked against the wall, Enya pressed a cold, gloved hand to her forehead, breathing heavily. Varric leaned over, panting, his hands on his knees.
"That dragon stole any time you might have bought us with that avalanche."
Bitterness gripped Cullen's voice as he addressed them. He gripped the pommel of his sword as the dragon made another pass overhead, setting ablaze the tavern. They all ducked to shield themselves from the splinters of wood. A scream echoed from the once welcoming building as flames licked around the broken threshold.
Enya pushed past Cullen in her rush to get to the tavern. Her friends followed her, just as the remnents of the red Templar army breached the wall. She ducked under the swing of a sword and leapt over the fiery threshold to find Flissa pinned under a beam. The woman pushed hard, but could not move the timber. Enya leaned down, spotting for the first time the injury she'd sustained to her arm. It was not pretty, blood continued to leak over her armored hand and forearm. She ignored it. Now wasn't the time to concern herself with such injuries. Still, she was tiny and even with Flissa's help the beam was hard to move. Heat stung her emerald eyes, colored her vision orange, and she coughed at the ash that filtered into her already straining lungs. The timbers overhead cracked even more, threatening to add to the weight to the already unbearable load. Flissa wimpered next to her, but Enya gritted her teeth and threw all of her weight against the beam. It broke and fell away.
Enya emerged with Flissa moments later. A recruit hurried forward and collected the limping woman from her.
"The Chantry's the only place that might withstand that…thing," Cullen faltered as the archedemon's ragged tail knocked the tops of the trees, fanning them with a gust of wind.
Enya nodded, glancing about them at the pile of red lyrium infused bodies. So much death. She shook her head and drew up walls around her heart. She had murdered countless men tonight, corrupted, delusional men whose minds were addled, yes, but they were lives extinguished at no hand but her own. But this was a cause she could ill afford to lose and the few more lives that lay at her feet now could not receive the pity they deserved.
"Cullen's right." Her eyes shone brightly as she met the gaze of her friends, "If we make it to the Chantry, it'll buy us time to come up with a new plan."
They fought through group after group of Red Templars that poured over the walls like flood water over a dam. All fell at their feet and when they finally made it to the Chantry doors they, and the people they'd rescued were ushered in by the sickly, ashen face of Chancellor Roderick.
Enya's arm stung with a vengeance and an ache spread from deep within the muscle up her arm to her shoulder. She clasped her left hand over it and winced as the magic in her mark sparked against this new wound. The sound of stumbling feet echoed over the creak of the doors closing behind them. Roderick fell into Cole's arms. The boy's face was expressionless, yet he caught the falling Chancellor and helped him to a chair.
She'd seen that look in other people's eyes, the glassy distant gaze of a soul already halfway to the grave. Hunters that had been caught off guard by a bear or wolf, the elderly stricken with illness. Her own father, dying from an infected wound when the elfroot had been scarce.
Cole settled Roderick's hands in this lap and pressed a cloth to a bloody wound in the man's abdomen.
"He tried to stop a Templar," the boy comment, looking up at her. Despite his blank face, his voice guttered with sorrow, "The blade went deep. He's going to die."
Roderick smiled, "Lovely boy."
It might have been sarcasm, but she was inclined to think Roderick was genuine in this remark, or perhaps that his blood loss had lead him to gentler judgements.
"Herald," Cullen approached, "We cannot hold out here indefinitely. That dragon stole back all the time you bought us with that avalanche."
She glanced at Cassandra, but the Nevarran's face was impassive save for a mask of stress. Behind the Seeker, Enya spotted Varric kneeling next to Minaeve, who was curled about herself, shoulders shaking with sobs of fear. In fact, the Chantry's sanctuary had been transformed into something of a triage center. Mother Giselle and Adan directed the uninjured about from one wounded townsperson to another. Enya found Flissa in a corner, drinking a bottle of whiskey.
"We can't allow The Elder One to win here," Enya's mark flared as she clenched her left hand into a fist, "If the Inquisition falls here then Thedas falls."
Cullen shook his head, "We're out of options Herald. The Red Templars are on top of us. Anything we could do would make little difference with that Archdemon out there."
A little trill of fear filled Enya's chest, "Is that what it is? An Archdemon?"
"I've been in the Fade, and I've seen an Archdemon," Cole supplied, "It looked like that." Cole smoothed a hand along Roderick's shoulder, shushing his groan of pain.
The fear deepened, but she stomped it out, "Archdemon or not, there must be something we can do."
Cullen's eyes fell for a moment and his grip on his sword tightened. Enya stepped forward and cocked her head to better see his face. The lines under his eyes and between his brows had lengthened.
"What is it Cullen?"
His golden-hazel eyes drew even with hers, regret giving depth to the shadows below them, "We could turn the remaining trebuchet. Cause one last avalanche"
"The enemies on top of us. To hit the enemy we'd bury Haven." Enya's stomach clenched.
"And stop the Elder One," resignation flowed through the commander's voice, "We're dying, but we have the chance to choose the terms. Many don't get that choice."
Enya set her jaw. There had to be something they could do. Haven, the Inquisition, or the world could not be a sacrifice they were willing to make, "Is there another way out of this valley, some way the people can escape?"
Cullen shook his head, "The Sulcher's pass is the only passage that leads safely in and out of Haven. And it is overrun."
She let out a rough sigh, and bit her lip. She shouldn't have the right, no one should have the right, to decide whether to sacrifice the lives of so many people. These Inquisition soldiers, these recruits, had come here in the hope that they might contribute in some way to restoring peace and order in Thedas. They were idealists, willing to give themselves for a cause but she doubted they had thought such sacrifice would come at the hands of one of their own. She doubted any thought they would die without sword in hand, suffocating or crushed under a pile of snow.
"There is…another way," Roderick's strained voice cut through the silence, muted and pained.
Enya turned to him.
"She must have shown me. Andraste, must have shown me." He rambled in disbelief, his mind weakened by his failing vitality, "With so many dead, to be the only one who remembers…"
She moved to him and knelt so that she could draw his full attention, "What way out, Chancellor?"
Enya took one of his bloody hands between her own.
"There is a path. You wouldn't know it unless you'd walked the summer pilgrimage as I have. The people can escape." He coughed and sprayed her with little droplets, "She must have shown me so that I could tell you."
Roderick's voice failed then. He trailed off into wheezing hacks.
"If he tells you where to go, can you get them out, Cullen?" Enya rose.
The edge of the Chantry carpet was worn where her eyes raked over the fibres. Its scarlet thread popped free of the golden silk that bound the edge.
"It will work. We'll have to move slowly; there are many injured." He stepped forward and she turned to face him, "What of your own escape?"
My escape? She saw the shadow take his eyes the moment he understood.
"Perhaps you will find a way."
Enya gave him a wan smile, "Perhaps."
For all he had seen, he still had hope. She couldn't help but think his faith in her was greater than she deserved. Cassandra's face was downcast. Enya could see the indecision in the Right Hand's eyes, but when the other woman looked up, it seemed she had made her choice.
"I will stand with you, Herald."
The Seeker walked past Cullen to stand at her shoulder. The Inquisition's commander's gaze flickered between the Nevarran and Enya and, though there was disagreement in his eyes, he didn't argue. There wasn't time.
"We'll need you to give us time to get out of Haven. There are many injured. It will be slow," he warned.
"I can give you that," Enya replied, "We'll need a signal that you are clear."
"We'll have one of the mages send up a flare," Cullen paused, looked away, and then he stepped up to her, grasping her armored shoulder in his hand, "It has been an honor, Herald. But if the opportunity arises that you might survive this, do not hesitate."
Enya blinked slowly back at him, "It has been an honor, Cullen."
The Commander released her and he gestured to Cole. The flax-haired boy hoisted Roderick out of the chair in which he sat and followed Cullen to the war room.
"I cannot ask you to give up your lives," Enya spun toward Varric and Solas, "but it would give me great strength to have you at my side."
Varric let out a bitter chuckle, "I've been in worse scrapes than this, Shiny. And the way I see it, the more of us that go with you, the better chance you'll make it out alive."
Warmth blossomed in Enya's chest. Her eyes flitted to Solas, who'd thus far remained silent. He still bore the expression of polite consideration he worn during her conversation with Cullen, his focus on the remained on the dwarf who was now tightening Bianca's string. At her attention, however, he met her gaze. His grey eyes were filled with shadow, though it slipped away, whether by his own control or because of her, Enya could not say, but she knew before he even spoke that he intended to come with her.
"It is rare I find myself with the opportunity to act upon the history I witness," He reached forward and grasped her wounded forearm, "I would be at your side, lethallan."
Her arm stung as Solas' long fingers danced over the torn flesh at its edges. The pale, green blue of his magic filled the wound, knitting together the stiff, aching muscle and skin. He released her arm. Enya twisted her wrist. It was still sore and her armor was still split, but he had stopped the bleeding.
"Ma serannas," She thanked.
He inclined his head toward her in acknowledgement. Enya drew back from him and turn to Cassandra. The Seeker stood tall. The deep scar on her cheek stood out in the light from the flames in the Chantry. It accentuated the taught determination in her dark visage, reminding Enya of just how many times this woman had been asked to disregard her own life in service to others. She wondered whether Cassandra had even considered another option when she agreed to join her. It mattered not.
"We must make time for them, draw as many soldiers to us as possible," Enya squared her shoulders, "We'll have to fight our instincts, keep the Elder One's attention on us."
Enya drew her sword and glanced one last time at her companions before she pushed her way through the doors out into the dragonfire-lit night.