HEROES OF FERELDAN
Chapter Six
—THE TEYRN OF HIGHEVER—
Pain. The only thing that passed through his mind was the excruciating pain spreading in his body, numbing his senses to anything else. But his ears were still working and he could hear the armies behind him and the screams of his household. He desperately made his way to his quarters where he hoped to find his wife still sleeping or better still to find his room empty and his Eleanor's bow and quiver missing.
His legs now had given way and he slumped to the ground, still pressing the wound in his rib. Safe to say that Bryce's day did not go the way he'd thought.
He had gone to the library to check up on his Grey Warden guest and Rendon Howe was accompanying him. They stayed there for a while before being called out with a summons to the courtyard. The closer they got though, the more louder it became, this sound of clashing and barging. One of his officers informed them that an unidentified hostile army was attempting to breach the gates. Bryce gave orders to return hostilities back and set up watch on the side towers as well.
That was when he heard the whirling of an arrow approaching but by some miracle, a blade had come in between him and death, Duncan had appeared, his sword shining in his hands and with deadly precision had actually cut the arrow down.
Bryce looked tot eh battlements and to his shock he saw the archers all aiming their bows at him. He shouted to his men, "Shields up!" and they complied, defending themselves.
That was when Rendon Howe and his private guard pulled out their swords and slit the throats of the nearest soldier. Slaughtered Bryce's own guards as they attempted to shield themselves from a barrage of arrows coming in from the skies. He didn't even get a time to ask him in dismay and shock what was happening.
Bryce lunged at the Amaranthine guards managed to kill one but soon enough found himself overwhelmed. Men were coming in over his walls. Not a large amount but enough to turn the advantages of having a castle into a disadvantage of guerrilla warfare.
"I have to get to my family," he told the Grey Warden. "I have to get them to safety!"
"Lead the way, my Lord but we must hasten!"
But they didn't get far before being forced into the Main Hall where Gilmore and a small team had managed to bar the main entrance with pieces of timber and the strength of their own hands alone. "My Lord, the castle is surrounded," cried the guard. "Siege weapons at the east wing and front gates!"
"What of the soldiers already inside, have they reached my quarters?"
Though he was busy bracing the doors, he answered his lord all the same as the invading force on the other side started banging harder. "Sorry sir, but I don't know," he said regrettably.
Bryce nodded, patting him on the back. "Do what you can, Gilmore, but if you find an opportunity to save the rest of the men, take it."
Again, the Teyrn and Warden charged back into the fray. They were heading up but when the crowds came in, Highever and Amaranthine forces clashed about them, they found themselves torn asunder. Duncan was still fixed, struggling against some shield bearers desperately trying to break ranks, while Bryce was pushed forward. The Grey Warden told him to go on without him and that they would meet at his quarters. Surprisingly he noticed the way to the bedrooms were quiet and deserted. Yet his heart was in conflict as to what that meant. Had they left already?
Howe, you treacherous fool!
Over his head, the red glow of mortar fire, and before he knew it, the building to his right collapsed outward, an explosion of debris and flames. He was knocked against the opposite wall and the pain that now surged from his arm shocked him like nothing else. He had just broken his shoulder, rendering his sword arm rather useless.
Bryce's left had grasped his sword, trying to compensate for his right but he was not ambidextrous. There was no denying it, his odds were slim. Still he continued up the path, even as another Amaranthine soldier came running at him, his own blade raised above his head and crying out menacingly.
He was at a disadvantage…but he was not dead. With his off-hand he slashed upwards just as the fool came in range and cut the young lad open. Another had appeared and blindsided him and was able to get a good jab at his ribs, tearing his shirt and the flesh right through. It wasn't a fatal blow, but he could already see its outcome. He would soon lose a lot of blood…
No, I need to find my family!
"The servant's entrance!" He recalled the conversation he had once had with Eleanor about a secret entrance in the back of the pantry that the servants often used to get in and out for work. He considered that that was how the intruders would come in but from the outside it was near impossible to see unless you were an elf. No, if Eleanor were alive then she would have brought his son, grandson and daughter-in-law there.
He held his side, the kitchens were as silent as a tomb…no… he was suddenly left motionless. The teryn found himself standing above corpses, bodies that bore familiar faces. Adney, Cath, Millie and even Ted, elf servants of his, all dead at his feet. Ted who was the youngest, who he had consoled about a crush he had on a girl in town earlier this morning. How could Rendon do this?
Then, by the table he saw a woman, and elderly woman lying still on the cold cobblestone floor. They had killed Nan, they had slaughtered everyone!
But what about your family, where are they?!
That was where he was now, in agony, dragging his feet across the coarse ground with desperate need to find his loved ones. Where he collapsed out of pure exhaustion. Physically and emotionally. He was starting to pool in his own blood though his strength maintained, his senses were waning. Was it a hallucination that presented him with hope, his wife's voice calling out for him? Could the Maker be that cruel as to snatch that ray of light away from him?
No, it was them. Bryce saw Eleanor running up to him with his son. "There…you...both are," he said, straining a chuckle. "I was wondering when you would get here."
Eleanor did have her bow with her and judging by the state of her had joined the battle as well. Thank the Maker, he sighed as they knelt by his side. He tried to get himself up but gravity kept its relentless pull. His son tried to ease him back down to rest while El applied pressure on his wound but it was pointless—it was mortal.
He tried to explain what had happened to him. That Howe's men had found him first and almost killed him right there. His eyes began to furrow for still, deep in the recesses of his heart he could not accept that his friend would do such a thing. Perhaps it was the work of some demon from the Fade, or perhaps it was the Blight itself?
"Why is Howe doing this?" his son asked with gritted teeth. "I mean…he was your friend, you've fought battles together."
Such an innocent boy, his youngest son was. That was when he noticed it. "Where…where is Oren a…and Oriana…?" But they did not need to answer. Now Bryce felt like the fool; to think that Howe would just leave them be, considering what he had already done by this point. He could hear grumble of more foundations falling, the screams of more of his household bellowing. "He can't…get away with this!"
Eleanor tried to help him up again, trying to pretend the gaping hole in his rib didn't disturb her. They'd lived rather dangerous lives in their youth, and she'd seen him with far graver wounds, but somehow this seemed different. They had a family now and in one night it was attacked. They were assaulted in their own homes. "We must get you out of here!"
The teyrn smiled at her despite himself. "I…I won't even survive the standing part, I think."
A look of readiness and aggression washed over his son as he gripped his sword, the family sword. "Then we will stay and defend you, father," he vowed.
"Once Howe's men break through, they will find us!" his wife warned, urging some strength into him. "We must go!"
Suddenly, he felt it quiet…the sounds of battle banished from the little pantry at the back of the kitchens. Bryce felt his head clear again. He looked to his son, to Artha, "Someone must reach Fergus and tell him what has happened."
Artha shook his head. His eyes were filled with wrath. "We must take vengeance."
"Yes…" the pain had returned and his body now longed for the ground again. "Vengeance," a whisper as loud as trumpets or the call of the Maker Himself. Vengeance.
Eleanor stopped him, revealing to him that they planned to flee through the servant's passage. With some luck they could find a healer for him. She pleaded with her eyes that he struggled to accept, what manner of hope she offered, it could not be enough.
His castle was surrounded, betrayed by a snake hiding in a cloak of friendship and he let him in. "I can't make it. Believe me I would love nothing more than to go with you, live to see vengeance delivered…but it isn't so."
"I'm afraid the teyrn is correct." It was the Grey Warden, Duncan appeared from the kitchen, re-sheathing his swords into their scabbards on his back. He spoke with swift breath, not to waste a single second. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they surround the castle. Getting past will be difficult."
Bryce could not express enough the relief he felt at seeing him there. He approached them and knelt beside the fallen lord. "You are Duncan then?" his wife asked. "The Grey Warden?"
"Yes, your Ladyship. The teyrn and I tried to reach you sooner."
"My youngest son helped me get here, Maker be praised," she gratefully beamed at her son who could not help but humble himself with apologetic eyes.
Duncan seemed to regard her words with a little more seriousness however. "Thank you, Ser, for saving my father."
"I fear your thanks are premature. I doubt I have saved him."
"Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick!" Eleanor cautioned. "They are coming!"
Bryce remained quiet for a while, still and in thought. He then looked to the Grey Warden, prestige of that military order was grand and so too the men that served, even in their subtlety and secretive nature. "Duncan…" the agony was growing once more and he was running out of breath. His eyes, pleading him, "You are under no obligation to me—I beg you…take my wife and son to safety."
Duncan nodded and took the teyrn's hand. "I will, your Lordship. But…I fear I must ask for something in return."
"Anything!"
The Warden hesitated for a moment, biting his tongue to honour duty over compassion. "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil loose in the world. I came to your castle in search of a recruit…" He then turned his eyes on the young man clutching the Cousland Family sword. "The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."
He was speechless…but he also understood as much as it pained him, as much as he'd fought to protect his son's innocence of the evils of this mortal world…this was the only way. "I…understand."
"I will take the teyrna and your son to Ostagar," Duncan swore, the firmness in his eyes assured his promise. "We will tell Fergus and the king of what has happened here…then your son will join the Grey Wardens."
"So long as justice comes to Howe…" He looked to his son, to his eyes, wrought with confusion and a growing anxiety. "I agree."
Duncan then turned to the young Cousland. "I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens, my Lord. Fight with us."
But then Artha abandoned his confusion and dismay, and anger and rage replaced them. "My duty is to take vengeance on Arl Howe!"
"We will inform the king, and he will punish Howe. I am sorry but a Grey Warden's duties take precedence…even over vengeance."
Duncan was right, but what measure of pride still left in him
"Howe thinks he can use the chaos to advance himself…" Bryce gave his son a stern look, a last binding command. "Make him wrong, pup… See justice is done."
He knew his son was struggling, a conflict had begun within him and he feared as any parent would, that it would be too much upon his young shoulders. It was a father's job to take some weight and lessen the burden for their sons—how could a father do any less?
"Our family…has always done our duty first, Artha," he said, his coarse voice reducing him to whispers so he shuffled closer to his little boy. "The darkspawn must be defeated. You must go!"
For your own sake, and for Fereldan's…
"Bryce, are you sure—"
"Our son will not die of Howe's treachery," this time his wife came forth, allowing her to kiss him, a lasting sweet taste he cherished now more than ever. "He will live," the teyrn said softly into his wife's tear stricken cheek. "He will live and make his mark on the world."
Silently, Eleanor nodded and then turned to their child. "Darling, go with Duncan…go now!"
Bryce's eyes widened with shock and fear, mirroring his son's, "Eleanor, please—"
"Hush, Bryce." The teyrna then pulled an arrow to her bow. "I will kill every Amaranthine bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. I will not abandon you, my love."
"No!" Artha exclaimed, rising up again to stand over them. "I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me!"
But he was met with his mother's steely eyes, determined and full of resolve. "My place is with your father. At his side, to death and beyond. But you, my darling boy…my sweet and innocent child…your duty is to your country now."
Artha nodded, obediently to his mother's request.
"Go pup. Warn your brother and know…know that we love you both." Bryce gave his son a hopeful smile. It was like a ray of light had touched his eyes and he could see clearly. "Do us proud, my son." He gave a nod to Duncan who pulled his son by the shoulder, away from his family. The loud crash of fire and stone echoed around them. Howe's forces may have discovered them.
As they watched their son ripped from sight, their hearts became light. Maker knew what would become of them, but Bryce knew that through His mercy, Artha would be fine, Fergus would be fine.
…
When Amaranthine forces came bursting in, they were barraged by arrows. Eleanor was able to switch her use of her arrows quite fluidly. Being able to stab a soldier in the eye with an arrow before launching it with her bow into another. She had been at it for what felt like hours before even she was knocked down.
They were bought to the Dining Hall. Eleanor struggling against her holders every step of the way. They were then thrown at the feet of none other than the Arl of Amaranthine himself. Hands begins his back, back poised upright in a dignified manner and a large smirk painted his old and wrinkled face. They were not gentle with them, even in the state he was in, the wound had not yet to seal and dry, seeping out from the hole like a leaky tap.
"And so passes Bryce of House Cousland, Teyrn of Highever," Howe sneered with raised nostrils in condescension, standing above them smiling triumphantly. "
"Howe you treacherous snake!" despite his raised tone, Bryce had his temper in check. "The king will not stand for this, when he hears what you've done here—"
"Idle threats do not befit you, old friend," said Howe. "Now, I've combed through the entire castle, and I do send my condolences for your son's wife and child, maliciously used and abused like that…it is just wrong. As well as a couple of other dignitaries and highborns killed tonight, one might question your abilities as a warrior and protector."
Bryce knew what he was doing, hoping to illicit his wrath, perhaps to cater to his own sick pleasure. "Why are you doing this?" he asked solemnly.
Howe seemed to freeze for a brief moment, for a brief moment he saw his friend again. "We've been through a lot you and I, Bryce. I've lost a lot fighting for the crown, I betrayed my father for the crown and what do we get? Some medal to collect dust?" he growled. "We were heroes!"
"And we lived as heroes, Howe!" the teryn shot back. "We were lit, we shone and we burnt out. That is how it works Howe, you knew that and that was why we have families…had families."
"Oh, lecturing me, even with a blade at your throat." He walked up to his dear friend and sniggered. "Bryce Cousland, the valiant, the virtuous and the honourable lord of the northern coast. You have power and influence but you do not use it, a waste." He then looked to Eleanor, still beaten, looking to the floor. "They revere you across Fereldan, they all loved you…so lucky, you and your perfect family. You had such prestige, a beautiful wife and two strapping sons to take your fiefs when you are gone."
"And you don't?!"
Howe seemed to ignore him and continued to pace about his prisoners. "I noticed that your other son, your youngest son, what was his name…Artha was it?" Bryce's eyes darted to him with fear. "I wish no ill upon your boys, Bryce as long as they bend the knee. Heck, I might actually offer my daughter to him and bring our houses together, but in order to do that I must actually find him for he seems to have vanished."
"You killed my youngest child, Howe. What more do you intend to take from me, my life?!"
The Arl of Amaranthine broke into laughter and his men obediently joined him. It frightened him, the maniacal glint in his eyes. He began to question their years together as friends and comrades. He thought on Leonas' suspicions that night. Was he right, that Howe had strayed even back then, maybe he was always like this?
Things escalated rapidly however when Howe made a gesture to the soldiers holding Eleanor, one unsheathed his sword while another tore off her clothes. Bryce fought against his own captors, screaming her name and for them to stop.
"Enough of this. Howe!"
"Tell us where your son is and we will let her live."
"Maker's sake, Rendon. I don't know where he is now and by His mercy Artha is far away from here!"
Howe growled again, like a rabid dog doting on how a play thing had been taken away from him.
"I swear by Andraste's grace to you boys, unhand my wife or I will cut you down where you stand!" Bryce warned, but the soldiers did not waver, too excited by the prospects. They threw her to the ground in front of him, exhausted from the beating, naked but for the necklace hanging over her breasts.
Howe locked his eyes on the teyrn as he came behind Eleanor, his beloved wife who was being held by the arms and made to bend over as low as needed but enough that she could look up and stare into the eyes of his helpless husband. "I'm not going to kill you, Bryce. Not until I break you, and then I will have it all and I have friends that would ensure I do." Then with the man and wife screaming for each other, crying out for Andraste or the Maker to save them as Rendon Howe pulled out his cock and ploughed her thighs with violent thrusts.
Bryce tried to pull himself free of the men, more than five of them came to restrain him but he would not relent as he was forced to watch Howe violate his beloved wife. Eleanor was in agony and he felt helpless. Howe called it 'the spoils of war', that it was fairness for his conquest.
For Howe it took less than a minute to relieve himself within her womb. Both Bryce and Eleanor looked at each other in sobs, their tears nearly blinding them, but it was not the end. Before any of his men could open their own breaches to have their way with his wife, Howe grabbed the nearest sword and with one swift stroke, sliced down and straight through the teyrna, almost perfectly through the middle.
"NOOOO!" his pain alleviated and some strength returned, Bryce ripped himself of the men and tried to catch his wife. The cut started from her right shoulder and cut straight through to her bellybutton. Blood spurted out of her like a fountain, painting the floors in crimson. "You miserable sack of rancid bronto shit!"
Howe chuckled at him. "Finally, some rage from you, old friend." He bent over and caught Bryce's chin, inspecting his raging face, holding an axe to his throat.
A red night for him. That night he had seen red in many variations, mushing together to form an unnatural glowing hue, and amongst all of that he looked down at his beloved wife, he was cradling her head, her beautiful face contorted into permanent shock and he close her vacant, dead eyes where the colour had all but vanished. Was this was all that he could do for her? "I swear it, Howe," he begun with a whisper but as he looked up at the man who destroyed his world, his rage had risen, the cool steel of his axe. "In the name of Andraste and the Maker Himself, you may take our lives this night but whatever is left of my House will have yours. We will make sure your name is forgotten to the winds, that your line will never prosper again, THIS I SWEAR!"
And then….black…
—DRAGON AGE—
Author's Notes:
This one was more difficult for me. If it's too dark especially that last part it was probably because I had just watched Game of Thrones episodes and lore series, if you could not tell the tragedy of Elia Martel greatly affected me, another reason why I simply despised the Lanisters and even Rhaegar Targaryen. She loved Rhaegar, bore him children, loved them as any mother would and what does he do? Steals another woman and runs away. The show just made things worse with the whole annulling their marriage thing. Elia died for nothing. I love the show but it sometimes just makes me way too depressed. I think that is why I still hold faith in the Ned Stark/Ashara Dayne affair resulted to the birth of Allyria Dayne. But I digress.
Please review and comment your thoughts on my writing. Especially in terms of my actual writing, spelling or grammar, or even themes. They are helpful.
