Chapter 21: The Edge of Glory
Riordan's news was grim. No sooner had they secured the main city gates than he brought word of two generals commanding the darkspawn forces from separate ends of the city. "One is in the Market District; the other in the Alienage," he said, his face pale and drawn, as if he'd gotten no sleep. "They are coordinating the attacks throughout the city; we have no hope of getting anywhere if they're alive."
"Can we afford to split our forces?" Cailan asked, deferring to the Wardens' judgment.
"We can take a small force to the Alienage," Fianna said. "We'll take out the general there, and then reconvene at the Palace." She looked up from the city map she'd been studying. Her auburn hair fell in her shadowed face, and she looked harder than any other time Cailan had ever seen her. He hoped Fergus, commanding the Redcliffe troops, could see her like this before the day was done.
"I'm going with the Wardens," Cailan announced, much to Eamon's disapproval. "I know what you're thinking," he told his uncle. "But I can't stand by idly while my people fall. Keep the Redcliffe troops here with the Orzammar contingent and take down the general in the Market District."
"We'll take the elven archers with us," Alistair said. "They can do a better ranged attack and keep us safer than a full frontal assault."
The Denerim streets were narrow and dirty with slush, mud, and blood. Their small contingent of troops was able to squeeze through the back alley buildings that led to the heavy iron gate that barred entry to the Alienage. Cailan felt a pang in his gut, but kept his face expressionless and resolute. He'd never been to the Alienage, never seen the conditions of the city elves that, while lowest of Ferelden's society, were still his people.
The gate opened easily enough, because it was torn half off its hinges by the invading darkspawn. In the back of his mind, Cailan decided that once this was all over, he would tear the gate down entirely. If the elves preferred to live apart from the humans that was fine, but he would not force that upon them with gates and walls any longer.
Fianna directed elven archers to the walls, though Cailan could tell from her eyes and her jerky movements that she was distracted. "Fianna, allow me to position the archers," he said, lightly touching her arm. She jumped slightly, but relaxed when she saw it was only him. "Go with the Wardens and wipe out that general."
"Is that a royal command?" she teased, smiling before spinning away and heading out with Alistair, Riordan, and Jowan. Jowan paused to wave to Cailan. His face was grim and determined. Being a Warden had saved him at the Landsmeet, but he knew as well as any of the other Wardens did that today could mark his death.
It was hard for Cailan to remain behind, ordering archers to the best vantage points while his brother moved forward to engage the horde. He had to keep reminding himself that this was not his fight. Well, not all of it was his fight; there were still plenty of enemies for him to take out, and as soon as he'd dispatched orders to most of the archers, Cailan held his ground at the gates with a small contingent of foot soldiers. It felt good to have his greatsword in hand again, and he channeled all of his anger, fear, and doubt from deep within himself and down his arms and along the length of the blade. The archers he'd stationed on these walls picked off what darkspawn they could, and Cailan swept his sword through those creatures that did manage to approach the gate.
A horrible scream tore through the air and a shadow blocked out what little light managed to seep through a rent in the clouds. The sound cut through Cailan and made his ears ring. He wanted to cover his ears, but to do so he would have to drop his weapon. He looked up, squinting. The silhouette of a dragon stood out against the clouds. "Archers!" he yelled, pointing to the target.
"No!" Riordan was at his side. The crags in his face seemed deeper, more pronounced in his exhaustion. "No, King Cailan," he said more softly. "That will be ineffectual. We must…" he paused to think. "Yes. We must get to higher ground."
"Fort Drakon's the highest point in the city," Cailan told him. "What did you have in mind?"
It might have been only hours, but it felt like days to fight their way from the Alienage to the gates of the palace district. Cailan half expected his palace to be in flames, and he prayed for Anora's safety. The palace itself was intact, to his relief, but the grounds around it and outside of Fort Drakon were burning. Some of the out buildings around the prison smoldered, having burned to the ground already. I can't focus on what is destroyed; only on what must be protected, Cailan thought.
Ahead of him, Fianna, Alistair, Jowan, and Riordan were arguing. "I am the oldest; I should strike the killing blow," Riordan said.
"This started on our watch, and we intend to see it ended," Fianna said, stomping one foot on the ground and clenching her hands into fists at her sides. For one moment she looked like a spoiled Teyrn's daughter, if not for the blood and ash smudged all over her.
"I've been a dead man walking for well over a year now," Jowan snapped. "Live your lives and let me handle this."
The argument became incomprehensible as all three younger Wardens tried to outshout one another. "I will do it! As the senior Warden amongst us, that is final!" Riordan suddenly shouted. "Live your lives," he added before bowing to Cailan and running into Fort Drakon.
There was a moment of uncertainty. The armies of Redcliffe had caught up with them; their numbers were noticeably lessened. Fergus was at the head of them, looking haggard and tired. Or maybe it was just the soot tracks on his face that added to that. "What do we do now?" Fergus asked, looking between Cailan and Fianna, who was staring up at the sky in nervous anticipation.
"Cover the entry to Fort Drakon," Cailan said firmly. "If Riordan is going to be moving through that tower, the last thing he needs is more company." He directed the soldiers to reform their ranks, and stood at the top of the steps with Fergus, Fianna, Alistair, and Jowan. "If I can protect you from this, I will," he said to Alistair, clapping him on the shoulder with his gauntlet.
Alistair lurched forward slightly. He caught Cailan's hand and held it a moment. "Thank you," he said simply. "For everything you've done."
"It was long overdue," Cailan told him. "This country will know that two Theirin brothers stood side by side to see this Blight ended." He squeezed Alistair's hand once and turned his eyes to the sky.
The huge draconic shape came into sight again. Alistair and Fianna both shuddered; Jowan clapped his hands over his ears. Cailan watched as a small shape suddenly launched off the roof of Fort Drakon. Riordan.
His heart leapt into his throat. Maker please let this work, he prayed over and over again. The Blight had to end here and now. Riordan had to be successful.
The dragon banked steeply and screamed. It hovered in the air, unbalanced and uncertain where it had once been graceful steady. A rip showed in one thin wing. Riordan had managed to tear the wing with his blade. The archdemon fell, claws catching the roof of Fort Drakon as it clamored onto a flat surface. Riordan would have to engage it there.
But a tiny shape was falling from the sky, getting larger by the second. Cailan jumped out of the way, nearly knocking over Fergus and Fianna as the thing hit the ground with a series of crunching, snapping sounds and then a final, eerie silence.
It was Riordan.
Alistair looked at Cailan, face pale and grim. "Looks like we won't be able to stand side by side, after all," he said softly. He looked at Fianna and Jowan, who both nodded resolutely before turning and heading into Fort Drakon, leaving Cailan staring into the gaping darkness of the Fort.
