It had become a battle of attrition.
Nathaniel got onto one knee and wiped the sweat from his brow, dark pouches were under his eyes by now and he momentarily felt sleep nearly take him right there and then.
For three days the darkspawn had bashed themselves bloody against the inner walls of the castle, for three days they had crashed against it again and again, refusing to rest, to think, to try something different. For three days the battle had continued. Nathaniel wasn't sure if he was supposed to be grateful of their lack of imagination or resigned to the fact that their strategy was working.
It was impossible to tell any more if the men and women around him were soldiers or peasants. They were all wearing the armour of slain soldiers, and all moving with the same sluggishness, not even caring about the constant rain of arrows pelting the walls and courtyard both.
With the hills having been dug even steeper before the battle there was no way to climb it. Even when the darkspawn went from the top of the lone road leading to the gatehouse and moved to the ledge where the archers once had stood...there was no purchase, nowhere to put a ladder, ladders that the defenders had managed to burn with oil and thrown torches on the first day anyway.
That only left the gatehouse at the top of the sloping road, and the darkspawn were adamant in breaking it open by any way possible.
They had sent in hurlocks with battering rams at it ten times, and ten times the battering rams had been burnt to little more then charred sticks, the wielders torched along with them as the oil covering them was set aflame by the defenders.
They had used ropes with hooks at the end, crowding and struggling to throw them up on top of the gatehouse and walls. The defenders had cut the ropes as the creatures climbed towards them, sending darkspawn falling down both walls and hill by the dozens.
They had, as now, tried to rain arrows over the defenders. Standing right in the open and dying in the hundreds to the return-fire the darkspawn archers scuffled with one another for space even as they sent arrow after arrow into the sky to let them rain over the defenders in the hope of slaying the odd soldier. It did work, killing the odd man, but Nathaniel was sure the extra arrows the defenders received from the bombardment, since their own storages were running short, made up for it.
They had bombarded the walls with magic, fireballs and bolts of lighting smashing the stone walls time and time again.
But the walls held, they had been well built at their time, and strengthened by dwarven engineering they were proof against anything the darkspawn could throw at them. In fact many appreciated the bombardments since they kept the footsoldiers away from their constant assaults...
That was the factor that was beginning to tell on them though, exhaustion.
There was no rest! Always the darkspawn were at them! If it wasn't a bombardment of some sort it was a mad charge, and ineffective as each singular assault might be they forced them to stay on the walls, to fight with ever tiring arms.
Sure, Nathaniel had organised them into shifts, so that the troops could at least get some sleep, however fitful it might be with the constant sounds of battle so near, but the shifts became smaller and smaller, the number of troops they could keep back ever dwindling.
They were at the end of the rope.
And now the oil has run out.
Nathaniel gritted his teeth, bitterness gripping him. He had been forced to use the oil more than he'd wanted during the days of siege, pouring it over the walls and lighting it on fire simply to force the darkspawn away for a while...to create a moment of rest for the troops. Not to mention to burn asunder the beasts at the bottom of the felled hill before the darkspawn indeed could climb the hill and wall both,by climbing their dead.
Of course that meant the stored barrels were quickly emptied, that whenever they poured it from the gatehouse to stave off yet another battering ram attack Nathaniel was running a balance between being able to give the troops rest and the integrity of the gate.
It could only work for so long. Now they were out of even lamp-oil, it all having been used in a last ditch effort to force the charging monsters away for one more time.
Maybe I shouldn't have done that? Maybe the time the darkspawn bombarded us with magic would be time enough for a rest? If I hadn't used the oil to give us some rest we would have enough to repel at least two attempts on the gate...
He shook his head, unsure, he wasn't...sure, he couldn't...think about it. It wasn't that he didn't try, it was just difficult to add up the numbers...to see if he was wrong or not. Exhaustion...perhaps I should have rested as Velanna said? But then...I can't rest...not now.
"You should rest."
He blinked, for a moment wondering if he was thinking louder than usual, then he saw a tanned leg appear before his blurry vision, making him realise he was still on one knee. Shaking his head he looked up, finding an oddly pale Velanna looking down at him with a small smirk, one strained by the battle, yet an honest one.
Nathaniel found himself smirking back even as he shook his head. "No, later, when there's time."
Velanna chuckled, reaching down to help him up. "For all your intelligence you're awfully stupid..."
He took her offered hand, and grunted as he pushed himself up, a weary smile on his face as he straightened. "Comes from the one having healed the wounded non-stop in-between her throwing fireballs over the battlement..."
The smirk faded, the woman before him turning serious and crossing her arms in front of her, face dead serious. "At least I have taken the opportunity to sleep when offered..." She let it hang there, an accusation.
Nathaniel grimaced, but couldn't deny her words, there had been opportunities to rest, the others weren't incompetent commanders, a sergeant would do most of the time. Yet...how could one explain it? He reached up, running a hand through his sweaty hair, the small gesture making him feel awfully sleepy all of a sudden, he repressed his yawn however, knowing better then to show it to the deadpan Velanna. "Look...I...this was my family's land...I should..."
"You don't owe them." Velanna snapped, glowering at him in disapproval. "We've been over this..."
Nathaniel raised a weary hand even as he nodded. "Yes...I know...yet..." He looked out over the battlement, a feel of solemnity descending upon him. "...these are still my people, those I dreamt of returning to...I...want their respect...however useless it might be." Sighing he looked out over the outer courtyard.
A snort escaped the woman, but it was without force. "Fine, have it your way, see if I care..."
"Velanna..."
"I intend to survive this battle, but if you'd rather die of exhaustion before that it's your right, thought that was far too idiotic for being you..."
"Velanna." Nathaniel grabbed her arm, feeling alarmed by how cold it was, yet unable to focus on it as the greater worry lumbered forth towards them.
The outer courtyard was full of darkspawn, this time loosening arrow after arrow up into the sky so as to drop them onto the defenders as gravity took hold over them. All along the wall men and women grunted with the odd hit glancing off their armour or drawing small wounds, but mostly with the effort of drawing the strings of their bows as they again and again sent death down upon the monsters, the arrows scything though the deep ranks of the enemy with a regularity one could set a clock to.
But marching through that crowd...
More ogres. Nathaniel heard Velanna groan and mutter something in elvish, but stayed silent himself as he grimly counted them. Six armoured ones. His fingers itched, but he didn't reach for his quiver. No use, keeping their heads down, nothing to hit. Between them they carried a new battering ram, this one not a steel-tipped trunk, but a twenty feet long bar of steel as thick as any of the ogre's arms. The two at the front not only carried that one between them, but also a pair of hammers with blackened heads as large as a small wagon...
"Could you..."
"No." Velanna sighed, weariness in her voice. "They're good at...protecting those beasts...and I'm...I'm tired...can't kill all six..."
Nathaniel nodded with a lump in his throat, having already known the answer.
"We have no oil left." Nathaniel and Velanna both jumped at the fresh voice, turning they found Lynn standing just behind them. Still dressed in her armour, most of the gore washed away with the rain, the elf was the only who as Nathaniel had stayed up all three days, though she had done so without showing any sign of fatigue. Despite having been using a bow all that time the elf still had had her helmet on, visor down, even her gauntlets on.
And this was the first time she had spoken since the initial assault.
Nathaniel hesitated, then nodded. "Yes Commander...I..." He hesitated again, seething with himself as he was forced to admit it. "...am not sure how to repel this assault..."
The elf cocked her head to the side, observing him, perhaps finding him at fault. Gritting his teeth Nathaniel straightened, ignoring the raining arrows as best he could as he forced himself to meet the dark slits of her visor with an even look. I will not accept judgement, I refuse to be found wanting, I have not failed my duty!
The elf turned her head, looking over the ragged line on the wall, then shrugged. "Then don't."'
He blinked. "What?"
"We can't repel them, then let them come."
Suicidal little... Nathaniel pushed the thought aside with effort, finding himself glaring at his Commander. "I will not..."
She brushed past him, hands coming to rest upon the battlement as she leaned over and looked at the horde massed before them, intent on nothing but their end. For a moment she just stood there, ignoring an arrow bouncing off her visor, then she lowered her head, a small nod following. "We can do it."
"Commander...?" Nathaniel shared a glance with Velanna, the woman smirked slightly at him for some reason, but Nathaniel only knew confusion as he turned to stare at the other elf. "I'm not sure I follow..."
"We can break them." Lynn turned, the slits of her visor was nothing but darkness, her stance nothing but emptiness. Yet the voice...there was a hint of flint in it. "Here, now, let them break through, we'll rout them."
Nathaniel blinked. "Ly-Commander...routing darkspawn is nearly impossible, and routing a force this size has not even been heard of! With such a force of darkspawn...!"
"I have done it." Lynn turned her head, voice barking out: "Sergeant!"
"But they were tied to the archdemon, without something so vital to them..." Nathaniel let it hang there, desperate to make her change her mind. And do what else? You can't stop the ones coming up now... He felt his shoulders slump in defeat. Damn logic...
The taste of failure was not a pleasant one.
He barely heard Lynn's orders, though they made him blink none the less. "Get everyone on their feet, remaining peasants to have the bows on the wall. The rest is to form up on the courtyard, rouse the knights and saddle their horses."
Nathaniel frowned.
Could they...?
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The crash made the walls shake.
No one shouted in fright though, no one muttered even a prayer, they remained silent, grim, resting even as they stood waiting.
Nathaniel was atop the wall with the remaining peasants, the men and women checking their bows one last time with a professionalism that had been forced upon them by the days of combat. None of them rose from their crouch, none of them turned to look over the battlement, they remained low, hidden, waiting.
Next to him Sigrun stood, the dwarf for some reason having taken up position next to the gatehouse, her axes drawn as she with an intent smirk looked down at the entrance, waiting as patiently as any other.
He turned his head to the right, gaze following the path of the courtyard leading parallel to the walls of the keep and to the small enclave built for the servants of the keep. The path curved ever so slightly around the fort...and the houses nearly hiding the mounted knights from Nathaniel's sight as they, with Justice at the head, waited for their call.
Looking back down he found the main force standing with their backs against the closed keep's gate, standing in a semi-circle their weapons were already drawn, their suits of armour scuffed and filthy, their faces dark and grim under their helmets.
At their head Lynn and Velanna stood. One resolute, calm and as unnerving as the monsters about to charge forth, a dark void of brooding violence. The other afire with energy, her rage radiating from her, aglow with elemental life.
Maker, I love you...
She sensed Nathaniel's smile and glanced up, a small smirk on her lips, an eyebrow cocked, confident, even now, never losing hope...
Another crash, followed by the sound of protesting metal.
He felt his mood darken, he couldn't feel the same hope, he could only calculate...
I'll always... A shake of her head, eyes narrowed, ordering him to stop the thought, he nearly chuckled as he found himself obeying.
Nearly...
A boom and a screech...and the darkspawn roared in triumph.
A large shape rumbled into the courtyard, steel plates covering it.
Nathaniel knocked an arrow and loosed it, the missile burying itself under the neck guard of the ogre, into its spine.
It fell without a sound even as a second one entered.
Another knocked arrow, another shot, this time hitting the side of the new ogre's neck, right under the rim of its helmet, making dark blood explode over its breastplate as its jugular was cut.
The third entered, keeping its armoured arm up, covering itself from the deadly sniping shots even as it roared in blood-lust at the soldiers at the far end of the inner courtyard.
A small chuckle...and Sigrun launched herself from the wall. Her left axe swung down, crashing into the plate covering the creature's forearm with a screech. Using the momentum of the suddenly stopped fall the dwarf swung her way around the arm, her right axe slashing even as her feet swung over the ogre's shoulder.
The ogre spluttered as Sigrun deftly freed her weapons and landed behind it, her head turning to glance at it as it too falls to join its felled kin, its throat cut.
Then she flew back, crashing violently into the ranks of the soldiers as the punch of the next ogre in line struck her right in the chest.
A curse escaped the dwarf, muttered, more annoyed then anything, as she struggled to her feet.
The last two ogres entered, their massive bulks dwarfing the remaining soldiers as they moved to charge, to crash into the solid ranks and scatter them, to end the battle before it had even begun.
They both fell flat though, growls of hatred escaping them even as they clawed at the ground, their legs barely able to move as gnarled green roots shooting up from the ground twisted themselves around their legs. Velanna took a step forward, eyes glowing green as she raised her staff...and more roots appeared, catching the ogres trashing arms and pulling them down onto the ground.
Lynn charged...and the two died, heads cleaved apart.
Then the smaller darkspawn surged forth, heedlessly climbing their dead they were a flood of dark death charging forth...and Nathaniel found himself gritting his teeth as he watched Velanna only barely managing to slip behind the ranks of the far better armoured defenders.
A crash of steel against steel and the flood churned like a disturbed wave as they crashed into the solid ranks of the Fereldians. Nathaniel watched, his gut gripped with worry, as the darkspawn continued to pour forth, surging onto the flanks of the small spot of defenders, surrounding them on all sides but the one they kept to their back.
The courtyard was covered in a sea of foulness, a lone rock of steel still enduring against the gate of the keep, the crashing of the waves of darkspawn against it accompanied with the red froth of blood as weapons flicked out between the two sides.
At the centre of the defenders Velanna stood, staff in both hands with its butt resting against the ground, her legs widely spaced and back straight as her eyes continued to glow green, so brilliant that it hurt to look at. And around the defenders roots again and again shot up, tangling themselves around darkspawn just about to attack their foes, disrupting them and making them easy targets for the defenders, some even shooting up with enough force to spear the odd darkspawn from below.
Sigrun was nearly impossible to spot. The dwarf flickered from one end of the defence to the other, seemingly appearing from the human soldiers shadows with her swinging axes, cutting down several attackers before suddenly fading back into the solid ranks again. Only to appear somewhere else a moment later, her weapons flickering out with deadly precision.
The Commander was impossible not to spot though. She was spinning, weaving, at the front of the defenders, a step away from them even, a defence of her own who spun and weaved with an agility none in such armour should be able to have. Nothing touched her, nothing but dark blood that her swinging weapons spilled with abandon, the wide swings following the movement of the rest of her body, each one accompanied by blood and limbs flying high as the darkspawn coming at her were torn apart.
If there was red froth coming from the rest of the defenders where they fought it was a splashing up in waves around her.
Nathaniel held though, watching the churning sea of frenzied darkspawn press forth, their eyes intent on nothing but their foes ahead, pushing forward until many of them couldn't even move under the press of bodies.
Now.
Nathaniel rose, as did the others at the wall. He nocked his arrow to his bow, as did the others. He pulled the arrow back and aimed down, as did the others.
He released.
A thump even rising above the clash of blades reached his ear as his and the peasants arrow smashed into the backs of the pressed crowd beneath, every single arrow finding a target, every single one loosed with enough force to punch through their armour, every single one killing a foe.
The sea of foulness merely churned, new bodies pressing forth to replace the fallen, focused on their foes ahead.
He drew...and released
Drew.
Released.
Drew.
Released.
Each volley was accompanied with the dull thump of over a hundred arrows smashing into unsuspecting backs, felling darkspawn all across their mass of dark foulness and making the others stumble as they struggled with walking atop their many dead.
The sea below him churned and writhed, boiling as it was pelted.
Drew.
Released.
Drew.
Released.
The stairs! Nathaniel was barely aware that he was moving as he spotted some darkspawn, finally realising what was happening, moving up the single stair leading up to the wall and the archers tearing through them.
He leapt, he swung. His shoulder smashed into a hurlock almost at the top, bowling it over the edge, his bow connecting solidly with the jaw of a hurlock and sending it howling off the stairs.
Another instantly came at him.
Swinging wildly Nathaniel forced it back, giving him just enough time to throw his bow up onto the wall and draw Mhairi's sword from his waist.
The hurlock lunged at him and he batted the thrust aside, his foot shooting out to connect with its forehead, sending it tumbling down the stairs, ignored by the others rushing up to charge him.
Above him the peasants fired again and again, volley after volley smashing into darkspawn backs, darkspawn that couldn't even turn to face them even if they tried.
Give them time. Ignoring the sting of sweat running down his forehead and into his eyes Nathaniel held Mhairi's sword with both hands as he parried a slash of the genlock's dagger.
Pain!
He staggered, watching as the genlock withdrew its other dagger from his left leg with a grin, the blade coated with his blood.
He rewarded it with a kick from his other leg, the heel of his boot smashing its teeth in and sending it into the arms of the next one, making them both fall over the edge of the stairs and into the mass of darkspawn bellow.
A hurlock came at him next, massive blade swinging towards Nathaniel's midsection from the right.
He grunted, finding Mhairi's blade pressing into his stomach as he parried the blow, only to find the force of the impact forcing the weapon against him, and him in turn against the wall.
Fepid breath washed against his neck, the hurlock's face coming within an inch from his own, its wicked grin baring yellowing fangs. Its grin widened, mouth opening as it prepared to chomp down on him as it held him pinned against the wall.
Nathaniel drew his head back...and slammed it into the beast's face.
Dark blood splattered over his face as he felt the upper ridge of its teeth smash inwards, what little of its nose that was left become smashed into a bloody pulp.
It fell back, its sword following it as it fell down the stairs, slashing another hurlock across the face even as the body of the unconscious beast rolled into the ones below and forced them backwards.
Nathaniel gasped, his breathing ragged, but her forced himself to look away from the darkspawn about to rush up the stairs again, to focus back on the battle.
The sea of beasts was churning, in worry as much as hate now. They couldn't make more then minor dents in the solid clump of defenders, their own dead piling up around the battle line, making the attack even more futile. And all around them darkspawn fell, at random plucked away from life, thrown into oblivion by arrows that they couldn't even turn and face, never mind protect themselves from.
It was a cramped crowd, a defenceless crowd, a distraught crowd.
Nathaniel released his left hand from Mhairi's sword and reached down, thankfully finding the signal horn still resting against his waist.
He gripped it, pulled it up to his lips...and let loose a long wailing note, his tired lungs burning with the effort.
A rumble answered his call.
Pain!
He cried out, the horn dropping from limp fingers as he found a jagged sword stabbed through his right thigh. The hurlock reaching him bayed in victory and wrenched the hilt of its blade upwards, making Nathaniel lose his footing and drop onto his back even as agony rushed through his spine, paralysing him.
His left leg swept out on instinct, connecting with the creature's jaw and sending it over the edge of the stairs with a howl, its sword following in a rain of blood as it was ripped sideways out of Nathaniel's leg.
Agony...
Nathaniel gasped, head swimming, his chest cold as ice, his leg afire, his left hand coming down to rest upon the stone steps as he struggled not to roll over and fall after the creature.
Agony...
Another hurlock, grinning with victory, rushed at him. It almost seemed to be moving through water to Nathaniel's tired eyes, and it was with a detached disinterest that he raised his sword with one hand, knowing the weak grip on the weapon would give at the downward slash coming at him...
Light, blinding him.
The darkspawn was smashed into the wall, mouth opening in a scream, yet no sound came as its chest, a huge crater in it, crumpled inwards in scorched flesh and sizzling armour.
It fell, dead.
And then there was life, refreshing, life flooding into him! Nathaniel gasped at the sensation of the wound in his leg closing up and turned to look over the courtyard.
Velanna's eyes were no longer brilliant green, but the usual bright grey...and twinkling with a grin. I'm never going to live that one down...
All thoughts of such things were swept away with the charge though, a mere thirty knights with Justice at the head...crashing, lances first, into the sea of darkspawn. Justice's lance took a hurlock alpha in the chest, pushed it up in the air...and sent it flying across the churning sea of foulness, showering it in blood.
The charge was a battering ram, slamming dozens of darkspawn over, crushing them under flailing hooves even as those beyond were sent crashing sideways into one another, making the entire sea of darkspawn sway with the impact, like grass under the wind.
Hesitation.
More arrows slammed into them, no longer in volleys but as a steady rain, faster then before, tearing through the creatures with abandon.
A ripple.
The Fereldian soldiers suddenly moved, pushing forth in a wedge their swinging weapons slew the nearest monsters with horrible efficiency as they surged into the black sea around them. At their head Lynn, a crimson knight of a nightmare, led them, carving a bloody path through the darkspawn, unstoppable.
And the darkspawn broke.
As one they turned and ran, howling in something akin to agony as they tried to flee, only for the press of their numbers working against them as the knights and soldiers widened their ranks and pushed forth, tearing through the rear of the fleeing darkspawn, ripping through them with near machine-like steadiness.
A cheer rose from those above, and to his surprise, Nathaniel echoed it.
Get out of my home you filthy... "With me!" Nathaniel leaped down the stairs, hearing the peasants above drawing their own weapons and following even as he joined the pursuit, slamming Mhairi's sword deep into the back of a hurlock as it clawed at those before it in a frenzied attempt to get away.
We will never give!
He slashed at the next one, opening the back of its skull in a fountain of blood.
We will never break!
A downward slash, opening the leg of a hurlock and forcing it on its knees.
We will never die!
He finds himself growling, pent up anger releasing as he gripped the hurlock by the throat and stabbed Mhairi's sword into its back, the weapons coming out its chest with a crack and a howl of agony.
I will not allow it...
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for keeping at it.