There was no oil with which to burn the bodies.
Instead they were left to rot.
There wasn't much in the way of options. The darkspawn killed in the inner courtyard had been thrown into the outer bailey, and the dead defenders put in the cold dungeon until they could be given a proper burial. But those left had had no strength to do more then that. They had simply closed the gates, marched into the keep and fallen asleep, more dead than alive.
Nathaniel however, couldn't sleep.
Dead on his feet...and sleep still eluded him.
It made his head throb with each beat of his heart.
Leaning heavily against the battlements of the inner wall...a wall still scuffed, torched by fire and stained with blood...he could only gaze across the destruction with a mix of awe and pain.
My home...
With the horde finally gone Nathaniel could finally get a good look at things...and it was a horrifying sight. The houses within the first wall had been trampled, trampled into splinters! The walls themselves were covered in blackened and crusted blood bled from the since long killed darkspawn strewn atop it, making it look as if it was a large bowl which was over-brimming with gore.
And the only reason the ground stretching before him wasn't visibly covered with blood...
So many dead... He shook his head, his brain painfully shifting with the movement, making him grimace.
The ground was black. If it had been a churning sea of activity before it was now still, silent...staggering.
The dead lay in piles upon piles, hiding the ground beneath them. There were fewer near the outer walls, making it seem as if the still sea was slightly inclined, as if it had been washing towards the keep...only to freeze to a stop. The single road up the slope to the inner wall was black with corpses as well, but corpses crushed and flattened by darkspawn and human running feet alike.
They had chased the retreating darkspawn, chased them for a mile past the outer gate, in a frenzy...which in the end had been defeated by fear and weariness, forcing them back into their stronghold. If the darkspawn had turned back...Nathaniel shuddered at the thought. Thousands of darkspawn had escaped at the end, enough to easily slaughter the few survivors of the siege. But they didn't, and we're alive.
Yet he couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, feeling...incomplete...as if they hadn't quite won.
Then again, we haven't. He felt a hint of bitter tears struggle at the corner of his eyes and blinked them away. It was easy to remember those broodmothers they had slain before, that there were more out there, birthing more of those monsters, more that would come for the Keep... We got a breather, nothing more.
He felt his breath hitch, grim eyes fixed upon the dead, torn and shredded, covering the ground.
My home...
There was no damage that couldn't be fixed, the houses could be rebuilt, the walls polished fresh again, the corpses burnt and the ashes swept away...he knew that.
He also knew it wouldn't be the same.
His childhood memories were already distant, fading...and now...tarnished.
How could he remember trying his bow for the first time under the shadow of the gatehouse...when all he could remember would be the scorched and torn remains of hundreds of darkspawn piled over one another? How could he remember rolling down the hill with his sister when all he could remember would be the torn remains of dead darkspawn lying in droves beneath it? How could he find anything good with it now? It would perhaps heal, become a place to live in without feeling an aching pain...but it would never be his childhood home any more, not after this.
My home...
He grit his teeth, tensed, fists balling into fists against a battlement that once had been part of him...but now was just rocks.
Then relaxed.
So be it.
He felt an painful urge to go find Velanna, to just... No, she's got enough trouble healing all the wounded in the keep. He shook his head, once more grimacing at the way his brain jarred within his sore skull. And this is my own cross to bear, she has already lost a home, shouldn't have to hear of it again...
I'll endure. The thought brought him some comfort, it was the simple truth, his current grief would fade, not disappear, but then again he didn't desire that, one should never forget. It'll be good enough.
He heard the sound of approaching steps, but didn't turn, letting himself soak up the moment for a bit longer, to linger with his now accepted grief for what had been lost.
The steps were close though, armoured, heavy...with an internal sigh Nathaniel assumed a neutral look on his face and brushed his thoughts aside as he shot a glance to his right at the new arrival stepping up to lean against the battlement next to him.
The seneschal looked older then a few days ago, Nathaniel was sure it was more due to worry for the sake of the keep and grief over the loss of the city then any strain of fear of dying, he understood it far too well. Still in his armour, part of the right shoulder pad torn off with part of the chainmail around his neck, the man was still splattered with the blood of men and darkspawn alike, as Nathaniel was.
He looked tired...and unsure...
Nathaniel managed a tired smile at that. He and the seneschal hadn't traded many words since the Commander had taken him from the dungeon and made him a Warden, something the seneschal...quite rightly considering what he could have expected out of a murderer and thief, not to mention a Howe...had disagreed on. Yet Nathaniel had been made a Warden, and during the battle he had been the one shouting orders most of the time, orders the seneschal had obeyed without question, just as much due to instinct as need.
And now...things were awkward for the man as the calm enabled him to ponder who he had deferred to.
Nathaniel's smile faded due to exhaustion, but he kept his tone pleasant as he offered the other man a curt nod. "Seneschal." He glanced down, remembering the maul that had caught the old man in the thigh. "How is the leg?"
"Erm...good...thank you..." The old man licked his lips, watching Nathaniel who kept his eyes, but not his attention, fixed upon the outer courtyard. The seneschal hesitated, as if picking his word with care. "...Warden."
Nathaniel nodded in mute acceptance.
A silence, tired and comfortable, descended upon them.
It's strange...there is no stench. Nathaniel could in fact almost imagine the smell of the distant forest, even as he realised his nose had become so used to the smell of death surrounding them that it didn't even register it any more. A blessing I'm sure.
The seneschal was the first to break the silence, Nathaniel wasn't surprised, others always were, as if prolonged silence somehow frightened them. With a small mutter the man reached down, the sound of a cork being unscrewed nearly instantly following.
The offered canteen was of metal, the content sloshing...and stinking of alcohol.
Nathaniel took it with another bow of his head, tossing his head back as he took a swig from it.
It was strong.
Nathaniel nodded in approval as he relented, knowing better then to wipe his mouth with his sleeve with all the gore on him as he offered the canteen back to the seneschal who in turn moved to drink.
When he finally let the canteen drop the seneschal's voice was muted, respectful. "You did well...Warden."
"As did you." Nathaniel, pondering the obvious statements, wondering where the seneschal was going with things.
"We...would not have lasted without you...I...thank you..." The seneschal hesitated again, grimacing, as if the next word tasted wrong. "...Warden."
"This is my home..." Nathaniel gestured for the sea of dead, wondering at the irony of his statement now that it no longer felt like home any longer. "...my duty..." He shrugged, as much as his weary arms would allow. "...I couldn't have acted in any other way." He turned to look at the other man, remembering his mother's lesson's well. Look them in the eyes... "But thank you ser, your words are appreciated, as is your kind gesture."
The seneschal swallowed, his tired grey eyes meeting Nathaniel's, then looking away with a respectful nod. "Yes...well...good."
The pair returned to leaning over the battlement as silence once more descended upon them, lighter and more comfortable this time, at least for the seneschal that now visibly relaxed, his burden lifted.
Nathaniel however... Duty, home, it will all be for naught if those creatures recover and come back with fresh numbers...
"We have not won." Nathaniel flinched, the words spoken from the figure that had somehow snuck up on them echoed his own troubled thoughts. Next to him the seneschal actually let loose a small curse as he jumped at the new sound.
Both turned however, regarding the small shape of their Commander with a mix of fear and envy.
Of them all Lynn was the only one that had cleaned her armour, the woman's movements still brisk and sharp, not showing the slightest hint of tiring. She had been at the forefront all throughout the three day long battle, never stopping for sleep or even a small rest, had been at the front under the pursuit and the last to move back, almost unwillingly turning from the retreating monsters...yet she wasn't even tired.
It was worthy of both fear and envy.
Still the visor of her helmet was down, still she had her weapons at her side, as if expecting to fight at any moment, or perhaps even hungering for it. She regarded the men with coldness, or so the dark slits looking up at them told Nathaniel.
There was only fear to find in that...
Nathaniel didn't much care for fear by now though, and met the darkness looking at him with an even gaze. "I know Commander."
The seneschal shifted his feet at Nathaniel's words, troubled, awkward...no doubt feeling out of place as well as worried by the implication of more fighting ahead.
The elf didn't even acknowledge the man's existence as she spoke. "We should push our advantage, before they recover."
"Agreed, Commander." Nathaniel nodded, keeping his tone neutral. So now you want to lead...or perhaps it's just more battles ahead that you desire?
"Can you track them back to their lair?"
A snort escaped him at that, weary but honest. "Anyone could track them Commander. I could find their heart."
"Good." A short nod, then a turn of her head as the elf regarded the setting sun. "We leave tomorrow."
Nathaniel wasn't surprised, but the seneschal spluttered: "Tomorrow! You'll be tired, exhausted! You'll need an escort if you're to-"
"We will have one." The Commander looked back at the seneschal, making the old man stop mid-sentence. "The uninjured soldiers and those without debilitating injuries will be ready to march tomorrow."
"That's impossible!"
Nathaniel grimaced, watching with a sense of dark foreboding as the Commander took a step towards the seneschal, making the man press back against the battlement behind him on instinct. "They will be ready to march, they will do so because I tell them to, and if not they will have committed treason, and if they commit treason..." She let it hang there, the threat unspoken, but painfully clear.
"Y-you can't..."
"I can." Lynn's voice was cold, hard, final.
The seneschal's mouth slammed shut, his eyes still wide with shock. Nathaniel understood his reasons, there weren't many soldiers left, all were injured, exhausted, in need of recovering...preferably for a week. But Nathaniel knew it would be no budging the Commander, and that she technically was right. On the other hand he himself wondered what she would do with such a small force against so many darkspawn defending their lair...
He watched the elf with narrowed eyes.
And his Commander turned and walked away, refusing to meet his unspoken question.
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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for not getting bored with this one. ;-)