"Dirthavaren" is what the Dalish call the Exalted Plains, in case you've forgotten.
A Promise Broken
The Dirthavaren was in chaos, and it could wait no longer - certainly not long enough for us to return to Skyhold, deal with the threat of assassination, and then return. "The Veil is ragged with the deaths the land has seen," Leliana told me, sounding uncharacteristically exhausted. "There aren't enough people - soldiers or otherwise - left to burn the dead, and they rise again, and again, and every person they kill is yet another to rise."
"Are Celene and Gaspard so wholly ignorant of the Dirthavaren's history?" I asked. "Why would they wage their senseless war there, of all places?"
I couldn't see her face, but I saw the rise and fall of her shoulders halfway across the tent. "That was where two of their armies happened to meet, and so both dug in, refusing to give ground."
"Dahn'direlanen, or'ga esh'ala," I muttered under my breath. "We will go, of course," I said more loudly, sighing. I had hoped to oversee - or at least observe - some of the preparations for Halamshiral myself, but a crisis was a crisis. I couldn't simply ignore it. "I'll take everyone I still have." Sera was already on her way to Halamshiral, and Blackwall had likely already received the Joining and either lived or died - I wouldn't know until we stopped long enough that the ravens we sent could actually be returned to us. That left me, Solas, Dorian, Vivienne, Bull, Cassandra, Varric and Cole. A little heavy on mages, perhaps, but that might be for the best if we were facing demons and walking dead. All of us could conjure fire if needed.
"Thank you, Inquisitor," Cullen said. "Harding will go with you, along with a contingent of our soldiers to secure a camp and aid you as needed."
"The good news is that your hart - Sylalhan? - is waiting for you to collect him at one of the estates we will pass tomorrow," Leliana told me, her lilting voice capturing the liquid Elvish vowels better than most humans. "You can ride him south."
"Well, I suppose that's something," I allowed, feeling my heart lighten a little at the prospect. It was absurd, but I had missed my graceful, sure-footed friend.
I warned my companions of the detour that evening, leaving it up to Leliana to inform Harding, and to Cullen to pick out the soldiers he wanted to send.
"The timing could hardly be worse," Vivienne sighed, "but one cannot simply ignore such conditions. We will vanquish this plague of undead - have no doubt of that, my dear."
"We certainly have plenty of experience with undead," I sighed, rubbing my forehead.
"Sure we can't get more experience with dragons instead, Boss?"
"Just be glad it's not demons this time," I told Bull.
I spoke too soon, of course.
The entire Dirthavaren was crawling with demons - they weren't even just localized around rifts. They wandered the land freely, sometimes with clumps of undead trailing behind that were possessed, no doubt, by less powerful demons in thrall to the ones leading.
Bull looked toward the crossroads near our camp, and heaved a pointed sigh in my direction. I couldn't see the crossroads, of course, but the demons were very, very clear to me.
"Ir abelas," I replied. "Maybe there's a dragon somewhere in the region."
"No!" Dorian yelled from somewhere behind us.
"I'll let you work it out with him," I told Bull, and turned away so I could see to Sylalhan and Solas's horse while Solas put up our tent.
"I'm afraid you'll be stuck here in camp," I murmured to my hart as I brushed the inevitable burrs from his coat. "They will no doubt have been digging trenches everywhere, and I won't risk your legs."
Sylalhan grunted with what I interpreted as disapproval, though all his grunts sounded more or less the same.
"I know, it must be frustrating," I told him. "Ir abelas, lethallin. If I find a clear meadow, I'll be sure to take you out for a good run."
It was mid-afternoon by the time we finished setting up camp, and though spring was approaching, the days were still quite short. Even so, there were ramparts crawling with undead just to the northwest of our camp. Harding told me that she could just make out some of the outer fortifications if she squinted, and we could all hear the uncanny cries of undead on the carrion-heavy wind.
"There should be time to clear one fortification before dark," I reasoned to my companions.
"Vanish," Varric sighed, "you have got to stop making predictions like that. You're as bad as Chuckles."
"Maybe he's been rubbing off on her," Dorian suggested…suggestively.
"That's not an image I needed, Sparkler."
"Oh?" Dorian replied. "Funny - I find imagining Solas with his clothes off to be very much preferable to imagining him with his sartorial abominations intact."
Varric snorted. "And here I thought you liked them taller, broader, and…"
"Hornier?" Iron Bull supplied slyly.
"Iron Bull," Vivienne reprimanded him, her voice cracking like a whip.
"Sorry, ma'am," he said quickly.
I took a breath, willing the heat from my cheeks. "If you're finished?" I asked, carefully not looking at Solas, though our bond told me he was largely unperturbed by the teasing. "The longer we wait, the less likely we'll complete the task before dark."
That observation managed to get everyone moving.
Short as the distance was, there were still groups of demons between us and the ramparts, and the first group we came upon was already being engaged by a group of humans. We helped them fight off the demons - only for them to immediately turn on us with cries of "Freemen for the Dales."
"What was that?" I demanded as Bull put down the last one, and Dorian lit the corpses on fire without needing to be asked.
Cole was the only one who answered: "Conflict clasps, clutches, clenches until the combat comes from within and without. Weary and weakened they wait to view the vowed victory - wait and watch, and wait and watch, and still the war carries on, consuming and crushing. They are finished fighting for the foreign causes of their claimants."
"Deserters from the war between Gaspard and Celene, or so it seems," Solas translated helpfully.
"Maybe Harding will have more details for us tonight," I said with a nod. "For now, let's try to avoid them, though if they're determined to kill themselves on our blades, I don't know how we can stop them."
There were two more groups of demons to battle our way through before we came near enough the ramparts for me to pick out more human auras. "Freemen?" I asked my companions.
"Imperial army, I believe," Vivienne told me.
"Which side?" I wondered, watching as a large group of undead emerged from within the defenses. "I suppose it doesn't matter," I answered myself. "Protect them if you can."
We rushed forward - as much as I could rush - to engage the undead before they could cut down the outnumbered defenders. I Fade-shifted Cassandra to bypass the soldiers altogether, though I left Bull to make his own way through or around them. He was simply too massive to fling around without need. Cole, of course, had his own ways of getting close enough to engage enemies. Even so, we were too late to protect one of the beleaguered soldiers. One of the undead slipped around Cassandra to - well, I couldn't see, but one soldier's aura dropped to the ground before Bull was able to get close enough to smash any heads with his enormous hammer.
The fallen soldier's aura, though flickering, was still there. "Solas," I gasped, and felt his assent through our bond. He was prepared when I pulled the woman to him, placing her carefully at his feet. Someone from the group of soldiers swore fluently, calling out a name that must have been hers - believing, no doubt, that she had been caught in some foul magic perpetrated by the undead - but she was only half conscious and couldn't reply, and Solas was already tending to her. After the battle would have to be soon enough to reunite her with whatever friend or lover missed her now.
The presence of the group of undead seemed, incredibly, to be pulling more undead from the areas around the outer wall - or whatever, I couldn't see it clearly - of the ramparts. I couldn't see the configuration of the defenses, but I could see dismembered bodies being pulled together with magic as demons were forced through the Veil and into hosts. "What is going on?" I asked Dorian and Vivienne.
"I don't know," Dorian admitted.
"Burn them all," Vivienne advised.
We did, which certainly slowed the onslaught, though even fire wasn't enough to entirely stop it until the last of the undead currently shambling had been burned to cinders. Even when we began burning the unrisen corpses in desperation, older remains began slowly clawing their way to the surface. It was truly never-ending, or it would have been had we not had several mages and a great deal of fire at our disposal.
By the time I made my way to the exhausted soldiers, my mana was nearly spent. "Anyone seriously wounded?" I asked as I approached the group. Cassandra and Bull were already speaking with them.
"Eh, one of the bastards bit me, and Cass bruised her knuckles pretty good shattering a ribcage - but we're fine, otherwise," Bull told me.
"Corporal Rosselin," one of the Orlesians - the one with the brightest armor - said, his voice shaking slightly. "How - how is anyone to stop these things?"
"Rochelle!" one of the other soldiers interrupted. "We must find Rochelle!"
"Peace, Solange - we will," the corporal hissed.
"If Rochelle is the one who was wounded," I spoke up diffidently, "I took the liberty of moving her to our party's primary healer with - well, a variation on a Fade-step. In any case," I hurried on, gesturing toward where Solas still bent over his patient, "she is there."
The woman who had to be Solange gave a little cry and rose, stumbling toward Solas and the injured woman. "I - I apologize," the corporal said. "We have lost so many…may I know the names of those to whom we owe our lives?" he asked.
"We're from the Inquisition," I told him. "We've come to investigate the rising dead - and not a moment too soon, it would seem."
"Several moments too late, in fact, at least by some calculations," Dorian quipped - quietly - behind me.
I pointed back the way we had come. "We have a camp just past the crossroads, boasting a full healer, food and water, and likely extra bedrolls. If you would like to spend the night, you are very welcome - at least if you would be willing to answer some questions about the situation here."
The corporal - something told me he was young, though I couldn't see him at all clearly - was pathetically grateful. "Anything. Anything to end this madness, Mademoiselle…"
"Lavellan," I supplied.
"Inquisitor Lavellan," Cassandra corrected firmly.
There was a startled stir among the little knot of soldiers, though of course I couldn't see their expressions - or even make out enough about their posture to guess at mood or thoughts.
"Yes, that as well," I sighed. "How long have the dead been walking?"
"I - it's difficult to say, Your Worship," Rosselin answered.
"The ramparts fell two - no, three - nights ago," another voice offered.
There was the sound of someone counting off numbers, perhaps on fingers. "Yes - yes, I believe that's right," the corporal said a moment later. "The first undead began to rise a handful of days before that, and within two nights, we were under siege. But three nights ago they began rising from within our defenses, and the situation has only grown more dire. Now, you see, they do not even wait for nightfall."
"It's those Freemen!" yet another voice called out, this one more than a little panicked. "Strange lights, like blue fire, the night after they first tested themselves against us!"
"The Freemen are just deserters from the armies," Rosselin insisted. "How could they have managed such a thing, hm? And why?"
"All right - I can't spare anyone to escort you back to my camp, but we did clear the path of demons and Freemen, if you hurry," I told the corporal. "We will investigate here, and perhaps deal with this threat tonight, if possible. Tell Scout Harding to send soldiers if we haven't returned by sunset."
"Yes, Your Worship," the young man agreed eagerly. "We thank you most humbly."
"I…really don't need your humility," I told him. "Oh - one more thing. Which side do you fight for?"
"Gaspard de Chalons," he said proudly, "rightful heir to the throne of Orlais."
I hummed noncommittally and let them go, Solange apparently helping a limping Rochelle to her feet as Solas left them to rejoin our group.
"Is this going to be a problem?" I asked Vivienne. "Helping Gaspard's troops retake positions like this?"
"Not if we also find and help Celene's forces," Vivienne replied, her tone reserved. "But as our invitation to the ball does come from Gaspard…"
"If we don't find Celene's forces, it will look as though the Inquisition has thrown in behind him," I stated flatly.
"That is a danger, yes," the enchanter agreed.
"We could not return this point to the Imperial soldiers," Cassandra offered.
"Possibly an option before we learned of the Freemen, but much less sensible in light of the threat they pose," I pointed out.
"No, I think the same," the Seeker told me with an exasperated sigh. "Politics have no place on a battlefield - and I wish I weren't the only one who seems to believe it so."
"Well, the solution is very simple, my dear: you must continue until you have found and rescued Celene's forces," Vivienne told me.
"Oh yes, very simple," I retorted sharply.
"Simple, yes," she agreed placidly. "I never claimed it would be easy."
Dahn'direlanen, or'ga esh'ala: Bee punchers, all of them.