It was unreal.
Nathaniel had a strange feeling of not being fully within his own body, as if he drifted just above it. He could feel the bow in his hand, his leather armour sticking to his sweaty body, the unfamiliar weight of Mhairi's sword strapped to his waist. Yet...
Exhaustion. He sighed at the realisation, knowing there was no rest in the near future, or if there was, it was only the rest of death. Shock. Grief. Fear. Worry. Counting up what he felt didn't help, it was all distant, all...meaningless.
In a way he welcomed the distance, it made it easier to accept the situation around him for what it was without despair gripping him.
They had barely returned in time, or at all, nearly every path had been blocked by thousands of darkspawn, forcing them to ride hard and fast through the rapidly narrowing gaps in the forces massing...massing for an assault on Vigil's Keep. At times they had ridden so close to the massive forces of enemies that Nathaniel had felt the ground shake at their march, despite riding a horse. He could still feel the bruise of his right shoulder from where an arrow had grazed him, and was well aware that they had been lucky to only lose five knights to the arrows fired after them. It had been a shame that the mabari had been unable to keep up though, not to mention the militia being too slow due to a lack of mounts...
Not that it will matter much in the battle to come, the odds are already stacked against us enough as it was, a few hounds and wounded militiamen less will make no difference.
They wouldn't be able to hold the first wall.
As such it was more for show then anything else that Nathaniel and the hundred and eighty two peasants that had managed to flee to the keep stood at the ready upon the first wall. Sure he and Lynn had planned how to make the most of it all...but it would still not be enough. Nathaniel, with the strange distance he felt upon him, eyed the men and women arrayed upon the battlement with an inner sigh of resignation.
Only a few had been given a suit of chain or leather, the armoury in the keep having been emptied for them. Most were still in their worn tunics and trousers though, the women even in dresses, something Nathaniel only now realised he should have ordered to have them change, surely there had to have been some extra clothes for them... Will make little difference. All of them held the bows they had received with little skill, many nervously fiddling with the strings, checking their arrows without really knowing what to look for... most were just pale statues as they stared out over the battlement however, the bows in their hands forgotten.
It was telling how few peasants had reached the Keep, and even more so that not a single noble had managed it.
Behind him the outer courtyard lay barren and empty, the ground dug up in several ditches across its length, a single ditch running across them to connect them all. Each one was easily cleared in one leap, yet when the black pitch within was lit... Will make little impact, but at least it'll give us some breathing space.
The ground rose sharply towards the inner walls, more so now that their soldiers had dug the hill that part of the castle sat on into something nearly vertical, topping it with sharpened stakes as an added precaution. At the top the first three hundred of the Keep's soldiers stood, bows at the ready, looking slightly more relaxed then anyone else with the defences before them. Only the main road to the gatehouse was still intact, at the bottom the last two hundred of the Keep's men stood, their ranks serried if a little ragged, their mix of impatience and worry clear in every move they made. At the forefront the others stood.
At the far right Justice stood. He had not, despite not being a warden any more or really having anything to do with the current struggle, never questioned going with them for their desperate defence of the keep. Of them all he was the only one still, a statue for all he moved. His visor was down and his sword drawn, patience made flesh, a lone calming factor among otherwise worried troops. Perhaps it was due to Lynn being convincing, perhaps him jus not really knowing where else to go...Nathaniel only knew they owed the spirit for its decision.
To the far left of the group Sigrun stood. She too had her weapons drawn, her helmet was off, revealing a toothy grin as the dwarf slowly bounced up and down where she stood, like a horse champing at its bit, eager to begin the race, or in this case, the slaughter. Nathaniel hoped she wouldn't run off in some mad charge, but knew she wouldn't, she would hold...and perhaps even inspire the troops.
Maker knows they'll need it.
His gaze flickered to Lynn at the thought, finding the elf in the centre. Of them all the Commander was the only one not with her weapons drawn, instead she had her arms crossed over her chest, the dark slits in her helmet glowering at the gate, as if daring it to open and let in the darkspawn horde so she could slay them. Nathaniel couldn't help but notice the way the soldiers nearest her kept their distance, how some of the peasants on the wall glanced back, as if afraid she'd cut them down if they tried to flee before Nathaniel gave the word. Fear makes a lousy motivator in the long run though...
There was nothing to do about it however, there was no loyalty to the Commander, no reason for the people to fight other than to survive, it would have to be enough. Though Nathaniel was painfully aware that it often wasn't, the urge to flee was just too great when you didn't fight for anything bigger then yourself...
He still felt a flicker of surprise when he saw Velanna stand at the Commander's side. The woman had her staff at the ready with one hand, the other resting lightly on the other elf's shoulder, as if she'd forgotten it there. He wasn't sure why Velanna had chosen to be supportive of the Commander...did she knew more of the woman's suffering then he did? Did she relate better? Or did she simply realise that the woman couldn't be allowed to break just yet?
Nathaniel's mind appreciated it, it was good of Velanna to keep their Commander going. Yet...he found himself swallowing and looking down at his feet.
Delilah...a tear came, unbidden, and he blinked it away with a growl of displeasure, making the nearest peasant edge away. No, focus, don't think about it, you have thousands of lives to protect, a land to keep from being overrun and...Delilah.
He took a deep breath.
Then another one.
The grief wouldn't go away though, dragging his mind, kicking and screaming, back into his body.
He shuddered at the sensation.
I will... He didn't know what and glanced back at Velanna, finding the woman shooting him a shy if worried smile. Hope? Yes, I will hope she survived, hid, left...
The thought was hollow, without feeling. He knew the odds of her surviving, knew that life wasn't a fairy tale, that lives were lost, uncaring of the pain it caused.
He knew, in his heart, that she had to be dead.
I'm not you Velanna, I can't hope for something I don't believe in...
He shook his head, forced himself to raise his face, face grim as he looked over the battlement.
I can only try to keep others from suffering the same fate.
The darkspawn had gathered.
There was a thousand feet of withering grass before the castle...and then a sea of foul blackness. It pulled at him, made something within him seethe with rage...yet mostly he felt a squeezing sensation around his heart.
He felt fear.
The darkspawn were beyond counting, everywhere he looked he saw genlocks and hurlocks, dirty armour and puckered black skin, filthy fangs and hateful eyes. Among them were many emissaries, blackened staffs held before them, the creatures oozing filthy magic even as they simply stood there. The alphas were easier to spot, brass points among black foulness, cruel points of malevolence among a sea of hatred. The ogres were even easier to spot, most clad in crude plates of steel directly riveted to their skin they towered above their kin, ships of brutality in the ocean of filth.
The assembled darkspawn reached the horizon.
Reached the horizon!
Nathaniel couldn't even picture the numbers needed to do that, yet there they were, a sea of blackness large enough to cover the ground from one end of the world to the next, making it look as if the Keep was the only bastion of order and life left in the world...it was a dismal thought, and far too real when one looked upon the naked hatred surrounding them.
The most terrifying aspect was the silence though.
Not a single bay, not a roar, nor a growl...the darkspawn were silent...just glaring at the defenders, glaring and waiting...
Nathaniel heard someone beginning to sob, none moved to comfort though, none even acknowledged the sound, their wide eyes staring at the monsters about to slaughter them.
There was only silence in answer, silence and hatred...slamming into them, making the Keep's walls seem ready to collapse like a deck of cards.
Yet nothing happened.
In the growing darkness, as night descended upon them, Nathaniel shivered.
He would have liked nothing but to hide away, to tell himself it was all a lie, a dream conjured up by a feverish mind still in the Free Marches after a particularly vicious skirmish. He couldn't lie to himself however, he couldn't allow himself to do it. These were my family lands...I'll be damned if I'll be the second Howe to fail it.
Instead he forced himself to pay attention to the darkspawn, to read their intention. For all their numbers they couldn't simply rush at the castle, or perhaps they could through climbing over their dead...but Nathaniel doubted they would. And indeed he did spot their way in the sea of terrifying death before them.
Dozen of ladders, rams...they intend to close quickly.
Nathaniel grimaced even as he nodded, however dangerous such a rush would be to him it was better then if they had sported siege towers or catapults.
Good.
He found one of the peasants next to him shiver like a leaf and frowned in confusion.
What the...?
The wind was picking up, fast.
Looking up Nathaniel found clouds gathering, dark and threatening...and quickly.
That can't...he looked back to the darkspawn ahead...and found thousands upon thousands of mouths baring their teeth in wicked grins.
Then the rain came.
Nathaniel blinked, taking a step forth in order not to be knocked over at the sudden gust of bitter cold wind smashing into his back, carrying icy water into his neck, which would have made him shiver if he wasn't already. Maker with the rain-
Ahead the darkspawn were gone.
The heavy downpour having cut down visibility to perhaps two hundred feet actually made several of the peasants draw breaths of relief, as if the creatures had somehow become further away. Nathaniel didn't even have the strength to shoot them a glare, his throat dry as he felt it...
Something...building up.
Hatred!
The roar of the darkspawn made the walls shake, made Nathaniel shake, made the very rain move towards them, as if the rage emanating from the darkspawn forced it towards the defenders.
Then he realised he himself was roaring, a bestial, blind and hateful roar, beautiful in its simplicity, terrifying with its intensity.
His mouth snapped shut.
Why did I...
The darkspawn were on the move, he felt it.
No time, fight.
Drawing an arrow Nathaniel listened. With the heavy rain and howling of the wind it was difficult to hear, but there was an unmistakable rustling...like dry leaves. Armour, tens of thousands of armoured monsters...
Then the creatures welled within sight, a dark flood of clattering creatures...they almost looked like thousands of beetles climbing over one another as they rushed across the soggy ground towards the far too close wall.
This is bad.
"Kill them!" Nathaniel barked the order and loosed an arrow, the missile instantly disappearing into the head of a hurlock that was equally quick trampled into nothing by its kin.
The arrows of the peasants followed, hammering into creatures that didn't even seem to try and cover themselves from the missiles.
Nathaniel didn't try to order them to fire in volleys, it would be no use, and the darkspawn made no organised attempt to cover themselves anyway. Instead he loosed arrow after arrow in rapid succession, not even bothering to aim as he dealt the steaming wave of ruined flesh and steel rolling towards them blow upon tiny blow.
It didn't matter if their missiles killed or wounded, either way the darkspawn were trampled by their unheeding kin, all of them roaring in a rage, as if the silence forced upon them now gone left them in need to express their bloodlust in some way until they reached their targets.
Then ladders were raised.
"Back! Retreat!" Nathaniel cried out the order and turned his head to find the closest peasants already obeying. Many in the distance hadn't heard though, some had already take upon themselves to flee though, either due to knowing their orders, or more probably, out of sheer terror.
A few stayed though, continued their barrage without thinking, lost in the moment.
For a moment Nathaniel hesitated, mind calculating the time to run around the wall and the time for the darkspawn to reach the top.
The conclusion was easy to make.
He turned and leapt upon the nearest set of stairs leading to the outer courtyard even as a black arrow thudded into the battlement and spun madly as it descended.
Bowing his head he kept running, feeling himself nearly slip as the stairs under his feet had turned slick with the cold rain, a whistling sound passing by him as more darkspawn arrows began to shower them, blindly fired from the creatures on the other side of the wall.
A man ahead grunted, slipped...and remained there, an arrow sticking out of his neck.
Nathaniel leapt over him, skidded, then regained control, barely aware that he had reached the ground.
Behind him a woman made to jump over the dead man, only to slip on the step above, a shriek escaped her as she spun through the air...and then stopped as she with a crunch landed neck first on the courtyard.
Nathaniel forced his head low and legged it, leaping over the ditches of pitch with barely a second thought as he tried to think.
The rain ruined our chances for a few extra volleys and is bad for already wavering morale, peasants already in disarray and will need to be rallied, darkspawn climbing first wall...
There was a crash behind him.
And breaking the gate in.
He grimaced. Not the best of starts.
Armour in front of him.
Skidding to a stop Nathaniel came up in front of Lynn and the others, a quick salute and he turned his head left and right to find the peasants streaming past them to the illusion of safety offered by the keep above them. "Commander, they must have induced rain, I need to go and rally the peasant archers...with your permission."
The Commander didn't even look at him, the head still looking out towards a nearly obscured gatehouse seeing...Nathaniel wasn't sure. She nodded though, voice steady, almost casual. "Go ahead, we'll hold them."
Hold them? Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, it was part of the plan...yet... "Only for as long as needed...Commander."
This time the head turned, amber eyes within the helmet regarding him, yet not really seeing him. "For as long as needed." She repeated, uncaring, as if she was just talking about taking a stroll.
Nathaniel offered a short bow of his head, partly as an apology, partly in agreement. "Good luck Commander." He shot Velanna a look, finding the elf's hair plastered to her skin as the icy rain poured over her, to his surprise she seemed to be enjoying it, a smile on her face as she looked at him. "Ve..." He caught himself as Sigrun snickered. No time. Instead he simply offered her a warm smile and said. "Wardens."
Then he was rushing on, up, towards the open gate of the inner gatehouse.
I once played under it as a child...
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson, as, hopefully, always.