Longer chapter incoming. With the next two chapters I allowed myself to make them as long or short as they needed to be. What happens when gods go to war? Find out right here, right now!
Part 39
Gods of War
"You went into the Fade again. This time to meet dangerous mages who might have killed you there." Cullen was pacing, running his hand through his hair as though he intended to pull it out. Astlyr stood, her arms folded over her chest, as she watched her man prowl the room.
As soon as she had awakened from her Fade walk with Dirthamen and company, she hurried to tell her generals that the enemy was near. Already that morning a few had been sighted on a ridge to the east of Skyhold, attempting to set up a siege engine. A few good shots from Skyhold's own trebuchet had sent the would be attackers packing. King Alistair had complained, as he watched the foe retreat, that they had stolen his siege engines from Denerim.
Skyhold braced for attack. It galled Astlyr, and even Cassandra, to sit and wait, but as Cullen and Josie pointed out to them again and again, they had one of the best military fortresses in all Fereldan. Why would they leave the protection of Skyhold's high walls in favor of battling a foe they were uncertain of in the snowy valley?
"Did you get an idea of numbers? Any other clues as to what to expect?" Cullen had asked, eying Astlyr with displeasure already on his face. Though she had not explicitly told them how she had come by her information, merely stating that Dirthamen's spirit contacts had brought the news, Cullen was suspicious and she knew she would have to face the music later, even as she sadly informed her generals that she had been given no hint as to how many the enemy numbered.
"We can hazard a guess," Josephine had said, looking over her notes scrupulously. "From the reports we received of raided slave markets, emptied alienages and Halamshiral. This would place their numbers at ten thousand easily, and we have no idea how many Dalish fill out their ranks. Some were felled in the battle for Denerim, certainly," she nodded deferentially to the king, "And some were undoubtedly left behind to hold the city, but we must be prepared to face a substantial force."
Everyone had fallen into a gloomy, contemplative silence.
Now Astlyr leaned back against the war table, tracking Cullen's movements back and forth across the stone floor as she might watch an agitated dog. When Cassandra and Josephine had left the room, he had asked Astlyr, point blank, how she had found out about the army's actions.
She had admitted to it all. To the Fade walk and the failed parlay with the gods. He had listened, sitting with his hands clasped in his lap, not making eye contact with her. Then he had paced for several minutes without saying anything before finally turning to her and speaking with an annoyed snarl she definitely wasn't used to from him. It wasn't his commanderly tone, used on his men to get them in line, and it was miles away from the gentle voice with which she so often addressed her. His golden eyes flashed. "I know you think you're invincible, Astlyr, but you cannot keep doing this. You cannot keep going into the Fade and hoping nothing kills you there. In my years in the circle alone I saw so many mages fall to demons. And those were mages. People who could defend themselves in that world. You have nothing."
"I have this," she raised her palm, trying to keep her own voice level. She was wearing gloves, as she usually did, but she did not need to remove them for Cullen to understand what lay below the leather on her palm. "I don't know everything it does, but I am coming to understand it might have some power over the Fade or its denizens. I can tell that it does something more than merely open and close tears in the sky." For some reason her mind conjured forth the image of a rabbit with a white coat and black tipped ears.
"Your anchor may have some power there, but you also admit that you do not know how to use it," Cullen raked his hand through his hair again, not looking at her this time. "You keep doing this. Keep endangering yourself. Do you think you're invincible? You've nearly died so many times already! Once at Haven, once when you faced Elgar'nan for the first time. Who knows how many other times you didn't even bother to report? You are not indestructible!"
Astlyr straightened her posture. She wasn't ready for a fight, but she wasn't about to let him think of her as a damsel. She was no maiden waiting for heroic aid to come to her side whenever she might be at risk. She was the war leader of an army, and a mighty fortress. She was qunari. "All my life I have been the biggest and the strongest. If we were to fight right now, you and I, with our strength alone, I would probably win."
"You probably would," Cullen sighed, shoulders slumping slightly as he turned to her, letting her finish her thought.
"As a child my parents drove it into me that I would be stronger than most everyone around me. That this left me with some responsibility for others. I'm not going to turn into Blackwall, roaming the land looking for farmers being hassled by bandits to save. Not my style. But I can do something here. The people may have chosen the wrong Herald, but if they wanted a warrior, they got one."
"This notion of always being stronger," Cullen said, his eyes flicking up to hers before returning to the floor. "I think this is why you walk into these dangerous situations without thinking. Without believing that you could end up dead. You think you can withstand anything."
"I have so far," Astlyr pointed out, though she wished she hadn't when she saw the flash of pain cross his face. She tilted her head slightly, trying to meet his eyes. She was suddenly very aware of their difference in heights. She felt like a giant. Like a mismatched puzzle piece. The golden man before her probably did deserve someone who fit him better. "I'm sorry, Cullen,"
He looked up at her now, his expression searching, even hopeful. She felt her mouth go dry with a sudden unease, but she pressed on. "I'm sorry I frustrate you so much with my lack of thought for myself. I am used to relying on my superior size and strength to see me through, but I understand that, especially in the Fade, it may do me little good."
"I d...I don't want to diminish you," Cullen lifted his chin, stepping closer. "You are an amazing woman. I would never intentionally belittle your power, your abilities. I would never imply that you need anyone to aid you in either your decision making, nor your martial prowess. But you have allowed me to help you. To aid you with advice as one of your generals, and to fight by your side in battle. Perhaps I overstep. If this is not my place to say... I merely cannot bear the thought of a world without Astlyr in it."
She was dumbstruck for a long moment. The perfection of his words. Of him in that moment. She knew he would always fear for her. Even in times when his fear would be irrational. In times when she could handle herself. But he had never stood between her and a foe as though he thought her incapable. She was always his equal in that regard. "It is your place to say," she said, her voice quiet. "And I am sorry. I'm foolish, and I do wander head first into situations I cannot handle. Into situations which are possibly, even probably deadly. For that I am truly sorry... Kadan."
"Kadan?" Cullen cocked his head. "I used to hear you and Iron Bull use that word. I thought it was another nick name. Everyone around here seems so fond of those."
Astlyr didn't answer, instead reaching into a pocket of her tunic. She withdrew an object she had kept, an object she had intended for someone special. A dragon's tooth on a long, leather cord. With her other hand she scooped an identical talisman up from where it hung below the collar of her garb. "This is a qunari symbol," she said, still speaking quietly. Gently. She wasn't even certain why. "Iron Bull told me that in qunari society coupling is mostly about sexual gratification and little else. Unless two people do wish to form a stronger bond. To become joined, in a more spiritual sense. Then they share a token of their togetherness. He told me that one of the strongest of such symbols is a dragon's tooth. It holds the power of the dragon, it shows that our relationship is stronger than the others in our life. I...want to give it to you."
Cullen took the offered necklace reverently. Without a word he put it on, tying it securely. Then he looked up at her again, a flush of red already kissing his cheeks and nose. "I think I was mad at you a few moments ago. How is it that I can't stay that way? You... are infuriating and hard headed and impossibly brave, and...everything I didn't even know I wanted in a woman."
"And you're a stubborn worrier who has a thing for redheads and can barely tolerate most of the decisions I make. And you're still my Kadan. My heart." she translated.
He closed the final gap between them, slid his hand up to cup her jaw, and kissed her so hard and so well that it made her feel as though she could float up to the ceiling. Then he pulled back, still holding her with a strong arm at her hips. "How do you do that?" he asked.
"Do what?" she asked, bending her neck to brush her lips over his.
"I distinctly remember being upset with you. Now I'm not." he cocked an eyebrow.
"It's a special talent I have," she grinned. "Few qunari possess it. I can make handsome templars forget they were angry with just one kiss."
"Do the tamplars have to be handsome?"
"Oh yes. Or my power doesn't work." She draped her arms over his shoulders. Enjoying just standing there, in contact with one another.
"I see," he considered. "I suppose I am doomed then?"
"Very."
He chuckled, finally letting her go, if a bit unwillingly. "Come on, Astlyr. We have some soldier to yell at."
The pair left the war room, Cullen reverently tucking the dragon tooth he now wore under the collar of his shirt. He kept shooting Astlyr little looks of happiness that, when she caught him, never failed to make her grin like a giddy child.
Yell at soldiers the pair did indeed. Though Cullen did most of the shouting, with Astlyr serving to look impressive and scary behind him, to drive his points home. Varric and Myfanwy, who had rallied up with Skyhold's archers, kept leaning their heads together and laughing as Cullen put on his best military airs. Astlyr had to shoot her friends her deadliest glare, which only managed to stop the pair for a few moments before Varric cracked another joke. Sera, who stood in a different rank from Myfanwy (the two did not get along) settled for making fart noises whenever no one was looking.
Then Cullen went to address the templars. Few though they were in number, they would be dealing with the attacking mages, and they had their work cut out for them. Especially as the mages had greater range. The men and women listened with somber faces as their commander gave them instruction. Nearby, Vivienne was addressing her mages with the aid of Cassandra. The magic users of Skyhold had the least military training, and fumbled into awkward columns when ordered. They practiced the motions of casting around their fellows towards imaginary targets. Aside from the siege engines, the mages of Skyhold would be the main fire power that Astlyr could bring to bear. She made certain to check them all personally. Nodding with appreciation when she saw a well trimmed line, or correcting any who fell out of formation. One misplaced or mistimed spell could make for a disastrous result in army combat and this was very different from what most mages were trained to deal with.
The guard were also fighting fit and eager. Champing at the bit to get stuck into an enemy at last. They had seen little action in Skyhold, the army having gone out to face Coryphius, sparing the fortress any danger. Jones rushed here and there, checking armor, ensuring her unit's blades were keen and shields in good repair. She beamed happily at Astlyr as the qunari passed. Then, in a flash, she was hurrying to keep up, holding something up to Astlyr. "Inquisitor!"
"What is it, Jones?" Astlyr stopped, letting Cullen walk on to find Cas and confer about any last minute details.
The woman held up a small, round jar, the size of her fist. "I was talking to Iron Bull about you."
"Oh?" Astlyr raised an eyebrow.
"He said you look scary in your armor and all, but with this you could look terrifying. He says he wants you to send the enemy packing with just a look." The guard was fishing in a belt pouch with her free hand, pulling out two gold colored objects that looked almost like hollow arrow tips. "He told me that when qunari go to war they paint their bodies and accent their horns with these."
"Horn tips?" Astlyr took one of the objects, understanding. They were ornamental items. She raised an eyebrow, "and you want me to wear them?"
"Of course," Jones said, still offering the war paint in its little jar. "This paint will stain, so if you put it on now it will last you a few days."
Astlyr heaved a sigh, "Jones, I don't have time to-"
"I'll put it on for you," the guard offered, still determinedly smiling. There was something about her homespun, earnest plea that made Astlyr less able to argue.
The qunari sighed, gritting her teeth. "Alright, but not too much. I have to be around my people too you know, and I can't have them being terrified out of their wits when they see me. Well, more than they already are."
"I'll be quick!" Jones was beaming fit to rival the winter sun. She sat Astlyr on a nearby wooden box which was filled with crossbow bolts. One of Varric's many stashes. "Iron Bull told me that the unbroken line means strength," Jones dipped her thumb in the red paint, then drew a thick streak down from Astlyr's hairline to the tip of her nose. The paint was cool, and dried quickly. Jones went on, placing a smaller mark on Astlyr's bottom lip, "and this means ferocity. Like you're going to eat your enemy's flesh."
"Well that's charming," Astlyr chuckled, though she tried to keep her face as still as possible. It was difficult. The paint tickled a bit, and she had to resist licking it off her lip before it dried. "Count on the qunari to come up with that one."
Then Jones drew three lines, horizontally, on the thickest part of Astlyr's horns, "and this is your army. I guess qunari pride themselves of fighting alone, but Iron Bull said this obscure mark means that you have an army at your back. A warning to your enemies." Jones recapped the little paint jar and took the horn toppers. She fitted each onto Astlyr's horns. "There," she stood back to admire her handiwork.
Astlyr got to her feet, squaring her shoulders and raising her chin. For emphasis she held out her left hand, giving the veil a little tug, flaring green across her palm, even through her glove. Jones' eyes lit up. "I wouldn't like to meet you on the field of battle ma'am. Not ever!"
Astlyr chuckled. "Alright then. Thank you, Jones. Now you had best get back to preparing your men."
"Yes, Ma'am!" Jones saluted and hurried away. Astlyr watched her go, unable to keep the smile from her face. Then she moved on herself to see how the King's own soldiers were fairing.
A long day of preparation finished, Astlyr stood on the wall of Skyhold. Cullen had taken a place at her left side, Cassandra on her right. Cole had situated himself in front of her, too short to block her view of the snowy landscape. A harsh wind was blowing, enough to make even Astlyr's tough skin feel as though it might be eroded away. She squinted, scanning the nearest mountains which created the narrowing valley leading up to Skyhold. A challenge for any army, but not impossible. A skilled leader could still make a go of it. She wondered if Elgar'nan was such a leader. No doubt, in the Ages he had lived, he had led many armies to battle. King Alistair and his two squires joined them. He held his cloak around himself tightly, and both he and his fellows wore thick scarves over the bottoms halves of their faces. Far from appearing regal, King Alistair looked almost like a common soldier, were it not for the fact that his armor was nicer than most others. He might at least have been a general, Astlyr thought as she watched him approach. "A pity these aren't darkspawn," the king announced, voice muffled by his scarf.
"Oh?" Cassandra was skeptical.
"He can sense those. A clawing in his mind. One thousand little voices, all singing a silent song. He can count each horrible hand that reaches and grasps, hollow and hungry. Tearing his mind like old cloth," Cole said without looking up. The wind whipped at his hat, but it managed to stay in place.
King Alistair blinked a few times, "I don't think I'll ever get used to the company you keep around here. I thought my travels with a talking hunk of rock and an angry hedge-witch made for odd conversation."
Astlyr put a hand on Cole's slim shoulder, encouraging him to be still. He settled under her touch at once, leaning back into her. She turned her attention to the mountains once more. She could just make out tiny pinpricks of light standing out against the snow and black rock. Campfires. Most were concealed by the snowy peaks, but some were still visible.
"They wish us to know that they are here," Cassandra said. "But not how many they number." Astlyr knew it was a common tactic to camp openly before a besieged fortress, to display numbers with campfires.
"I suspect they plan to attack on the morrow," Cullen affirmed, steam clouding from his lips as he spoke.
"Are we ready?" The king asked, folding his arms and turning to examine the little points of light.
"As we will ever be," Astlyr said. "We would repulse an ordinary army easily, but I don't know what this particular foe might bring to bear."
The leaders stood in silent contemplation, watching each distant fire, like stars brought to earth. Each one represented at least ten warriors or mages, Astlyr reasoned. She knew that Elgar'nan's force would have the numbers hers lacked. A fortress could only hold so many soldiers. Yet, if the battle swung her way, many of her soldiers would not even need to test blade against enemy armor. She felt her own breath ghost out of her in a weary sigh. "No use standing up here all night, freezing. That's what guards are for."
"I heard that," Joked a courageous guardsman. His fellows tried to stifle their laughter until they saw that the Inquisitor was smiling.
"Try to get some sleep," Astlyr urged her generals. "Cole can help out, if you need him to."
"I believe I shall read, instead," Cassandra said, "no offense meant, of course, Cole."
The boy did not even seem to notice he might have been slighted. Instead he followed Astlyr and company down from the wall, then, once he was certain none of them wished for his aid, he teleported away to go help someone else. Many minds were full of unease that night. In need of the company of a compassionate spirit.
Astlyr woke the next morn, after a fitful night, even wrapped as she was in the arms of her lover. He too had not fared well. His mind plagued by the dark dreams which always troubled him when his anxiety level was high. Astlyr rolled out of bed, awakened by instinct rather than sunlight. Outside a blizzard loomed. Dark clouds, pregnant with snow, hung low like a blanket over fortress and mountains. She even saw lightning skitter across the bottom of one such cloud. This was not an ideal day for a battle, but she suspected Elgar'nan had something to do with it. He wanted Skyhold to be blinded by snow and winds. Their higher elevation would make them much more susceptible than those in the valley below. The healers would have their hands full with frostbite patients.
Even as Astlyr tugged on her underarmor, attempting to be quiet so Cullen could catch a few extra winks of sleep, the warning bell sounded. Cullen was up as though someone had poured ice water over him, and leaping into his clothes, seemingly before he even took in where he was. When sleep cleared from his face and he met Astlyr's eyes there was a hard, determined set to his scarred features. "It's now."
"It's now," she agreed, yanking on a boot. She twisted her hair into a bun, taking just enough time to make certain it was secure. No good her hair flying loose in a combat situation. Once or twice she had pondered cutting it off, annoying as it was, but she knew how Cullen favored it, so she wrapped it tightly, holding it in place with a few pins and a twine of leather. She could not help but see her painted face in Cullen's small shaving the mirror as she dealt with her hair. Jones had been right, the blood-red markings were still as prominent as when they had been painted. They made her look somehow more qunari. Normally this might have annoyed her, but today she wanted to look as huge and intimidating as possible. She slipped the horn toppers into place.
Skyhold was already awake and alive with activity as Astlyr and Cullen rushed to the armory to suit up. She passed Dorian, who was moving with the mages into their formations. He caught sight of her and gave her a cocky grin and a wave. The healers were setting up triage stations in the snowy courtyard near the stables. To Astlyr's surprise, Fen'Harel and Dirthamen were there. Fen looked up as she passed and met her eyes. She knew he would join the fray if and when he was needed, but as the most skilled spirit healer Skyhold currently possessed, he had rightly decided his place was amongst the medics. As Dirthamen had no position with the warriors he too lent a helping hand. Ghilan'nain was no where to be seen. Probably still hiding away in her room or, more likely, tucked safely away with the other civilians. Astlyr spared no time being angry at the goddess for not helping in the fight. With no idea what the halla maiden's powers were, Astlyr would rather she stayed clear.
In the armory Astlyr took down her best, dragon fighting plate. It was heavy indeed, and a human might have found himself unable to move in it at all. Even Astlyr needed all her energy to fight well in the stuff, but it was impressive. Cassandra was there, already finishing up her own armor. "Iron Bull and his Chargers have been and gone," the woman explained as the bell sounded again. The noise from the courtyard intensified and the soldiers formed their ranks and the mages took their places. "I haven't seen Varric or Myfanwy yet, but the archers are rallied, so I suspect they are with them."
Astlyr nodded as a young armorer hurried forward to help her with the straps. She rested her arm on his head as the man skillfully buckled the side of her breastplate. She looked to Cassandra, her eyes asking without her needing to speak.
"Blackwall is leading the center unit. I will be on the left. Cullen will take the right unit, with King Alistair's men. Lady Vivienne has the mages as prepared as they can be. Those who have seen combat before are on the walls. The young, and less experienced, are held back in the yard, interspersed with the templars."
"The templars are as ready as they can be," Cullen filled in, sitting down to strap on his leg armor. There would be little need of full plate if all went well, but both Astlyr and Cullen knew that things seldom went well where would-be 'gods' were concerned.
"Dorian is with the combat mages," Cas continued, knowing that Astlyr wished all her friends accounted for. "I'm not certain about Cole."
"He's near," Astlyr said, without looking up from a strap she was having trouble getting to buckle properly on her arm.
Cas and Cullen shot one another a look, then the seeker carried on. "Any civilians who are not aiding the healers, or standing ready to shore up damaged walls and buildings, have been evacuated by Josephine to the temple, underground barracks, and the dungeons."
"We do have nice dungeons," Astlyr chuckled as she took her beautiful shield down from its place on the wall, then selected one of her favorite blades.
"Sharpened that un last night," the smith, who was standing watch near by, said with a smile. "Knew you'd want it."
Astlyr nodded her thanks, belted the sword at her hip, and strapped the shield to her back. Someone whistled low. She turned to realize it was Cullen. He was looking at her, admiration on his face. "I forget you can look like that," he said, indicating her fully kitted-out self. "Full plate suits you."
"Iron Bull once told me that if you see a qunari in full armor, you should run," Cassandra added, smiling. She we no slouch herself in the ruddy, buffed mail which bore the emblem of the Inquisition on the breastplate. She pulled on a helmet, completing the look. Astlyr would have to settle for her horn toppers. Cullen pulled down his lion helmet, which he mostly worn for show, but he did look impressive in it, and Astlyr gave him a whistle of her own, and a suggestively raised eyebrow.
She leaned close to her lover for a moment, "If we survive this, I'm tearing all that armor off you later."
"I look forward to it," he even managed to keep his blush from completely overrunning his face.
Casandra watched them with a rare smile on her lips, before nodding towards the door, "if you two don't mind, we have a war situation outside."
The three generals made their way to the wall, the warning bell sounding a final urgent note in the crisp dawn, just in case the very elderly or deaf had somehow missed it, Astlyr thought ruefully. She reached the top of the wall, and the archers and mages there parting to make way. King Alistair stood awaiting them, wearing much more practical armor this time. To Astlyr's surprise, the queen was with him. Her own attire was mostly for show. Plates of thin metal that would no more protect her from a sword than a layer of thick cloth might.
At Astlyr's skeptical look, the king explained, "Anora wishes the people to see her before the first bought begins. Never fear, once the fighting starts she shall retreat below with the others."
Astlyr nodded, though she still felt uncertain as she studied the queen in her useless armor. She sighed and turned her attention back to the valley. Already she could see the army that approached them. She squinted as the wind rattled through every gap in her armor. Even the padded gambison she wore beneath did not protect her from the harsh breath of winter. Her ear tips stung and her eyes watered.
Elgar'nan's army was indeed massive, from what she could see. Though she had no way to tell, she suspected the numbers to be greater than Josephines estimations. Elgarn'nan too had divided his force into three elements. She could not make out the positioning of his mages, but she could see the three siege engines he had constructed, which were being hauled along by his elvish soldiers.
"Look there," Cullen gestured to the oncoming enemy columns. "Sloppy."
He was right. One of the elements was outdistancing the others noticeably. One of the others listed, failing to keep formation. "We forget that most of these elves were slaves or Dalish," Cassandra pointed out, watching with a shrewd gaze as the enemy commanders appeared to be trying to get their forces back into shape.
"They will have many mages trained by the Dalish rather than the circle." Astlyr startled. Mayfanwy was one of the archers standing near her. A helmet and armor disguised the woman so she looked like all the others. "They will be unpredictable."
"We shall outmatch any unprofessional, hedge-magic easily," Vivienne was striding along the wall, eying her people scrupulously.
"What will they do first?" The queen asked, clasping cold hands and trying to warm them.
"If it were me I'd try to get my siege engines and mages into range first. Skyhold is a nut that must be cracked if the foot soldiers are to be of any use at all." Cullen explained.
All of Skyhold seemed to hold its breath. Astlyr saw Alun shift slightly in his hiding place near the wall. The stone wolf was to act as a nasty surprise for any soldiers who made it to the gate.
Slowly, almost painfully, the enemy siege engines were brought forward, just as Cullen had predicted. Astlyr watched the elvish banners. Hastily made things which bore the crests of Elgar'nan and his bride, Mythal. Idly she wondered if Elgar'nan was alarmed by his wife's current choice of bodies. "Be cautious of Fade magic," Astlyr warned Vivienne. "These false gods have some power over the Fade."
"Noted," the enchanter nodded curtly, for once offering no swaggering reply. "Their earth mages will be able to make the stones from their catapults fly farther than they normally might. As can ours," she added, a slight smile playing on her full lips. She could never hide her confidence for long.
Just as snow finally seemed to overcome the clouds above and began to fall in thickening sheets over Skyhold, the enemy was within range, and they fired the first shot. A large boulder slowly arched across the sky, aimed for the main gate, or the wall around it. It almost seemed to hang in the snowy air for a long moment as everyone watched in silence. This signifier of the beginning of the end.
As Astlyr saw her breath ghost from her lips in a slow, eager huff, time seemed to catch up with itself and the boulder hurtled towards them. Three mages stepped forward, catching it easily with their gift they deflected it to send it harmlessly off the cliff on Skyhold's left side.
Elgar'nan's army gave a vast, rattling war cry. It shuddered the mountains and was punctuated by a mighty roar. Mythal, already in dragon form, stood with the army. Astlyr raised her arm, her glove-less hand aglow as she bellowed her own cry to the winds, "FOR FERELDAN! FOR SKYHOLD!" Her hand exploded with green light as she clawed the Fade with her fingers. Not enough to open it, but enough to send ripples across the surface.
"Siege engines! Fire!" Cullen shouted to the nearest commanders as the queen gave an audible squeak and fled the scene.
Soon the sky was pocked with huge rocks, hurtling from both sides, propelled by magic and the force of the technology itself. Skyhold's engines were superior, this much was plain, as their missiles found homes in the snowy earth, crushing any who failed to get clear.
"Archers ready!" a captain shouted as the archers stepped forward, longbows drawn. "Fire! Archers, step back and reload. Mages ready? Step forward! Fire!"
Not all of Skyhold's mages had the range to reach the foe, but those that could sent fire, ice, even some spirit magic hurtling into the enemy ranks. Because of the sheer number of mages standing with Elgar'nan, his whole army seemed wrapped in the rippling blue of magical shielding. Most spells from Skyhold deflected harmlessly, or were absorbed into barriers. On the Skyhold side of things, the mages had a bit more work, both attacking and defending. Astlyr, who stood on her perch above the main gate, more as a figure head than a commander at this point, had to dodge an incoming bolt of lightning. It zinged past her ear and left the air feeling charged for a few moments.
"DRAGON!" Cassandra cried.
Mythal had taken wing, skirting wide of the fortress as the ballistas tracked her. She was too far and too fast for them so they did not waste ammunition.
Astlyr ignored the dragon for a moment, watching with satisfaction as her mages weakened the enemy, allowing arrows and siege rocks to find targets. The front ranks of Elgar'nan's force were crumbling. His soldiers seemed to be losing their nerve, trying to pull back out of range, only to run into their own allies standing behind them. Astlyr smiling grimly at their fumbling confusion.
A shattering crash made everyone's heads turn. A section of the southeastern wall had been struck by something. "What the hell?!" Astlyr snarled.
"There, they've got more catapults just beyond that ridge!" Cullen pointed. "Dammit! The mountain allowed them to hide the engines and get the elevation to strike at Skyhold. Mages, reinforce that wall!"
Already, broken wall stones were showering down on the soldiers in the courtyard. Most managed to get clear of the largest chunks, though a few were struck. Astlyr's lip curled as she bared her teeth, knowing in her bones that this was a signal. She was correct. Mythal swooped in low this time, bathing the yard in fire. The soldiers were more prepared for this, raising shields to form a shell over themselves, and the mages in their ranks who were placing protective magics over them. The dragon swung around and came again, her tail slicing into the side of the main keep and leaving a sizable gash in the stone. The wind from her wings almost knocked a few archers from the walls. The ballista fired, but failed to strike her as she sent flames surging down onto the soldiers below. The stables caught fire, but teams were ready and hurried to put it out.
Astlyr watched as Mythal wheeled. Another stone struck the wall, this time causing less damage as the mages who had been sent to that side had partially deflected it. Once more Mythal swept in, laying a blanket of flames over the courtyard. The soldiers raised shields, the mages weaving spells over the lot of them. "Stay sharp everyone!" Astlyr shouted needlessly, pacing the wall now, giving orders rather than standing tall as a beacon of leadership.
"This isn't sustainable," Cullen pointed out as she prowled past him. "We can withstand the dragon, but not forever. We're eating through his soldiers, slowly, but effectively, he's bound to make another attack of some kind."
"This can't be his entire plan," Cassandra agreed as she raised her shield to deflect stray dragon fire.
Mythal swooped toward the main gate this time, trying to blast it with flames. She scorched a path along a section of wall, this time achieving better results. Two people leaped from the ramparts, their bodies aflame, before the nearest mages could stop them. Others were scorched, but alive. The archers and mages drove Mythal off as best they could. She roared and flapped her wings mightily, narrowly missing being struck by a siege rock as it hurtled past her.
"Cole!" Astlyr called to the snowy air. Her voice was almost ripped from her by the rush of wind from Mythal's wings as the dragon came in again, harrowing those on the walltop. The mages launched deadly shafts of ice towards her face and she broke off. Astlyr felt her spirit companion beside her before she saw him. She turned, making out his slender, be-hatted shape amongst the soldiers on the wall. He joined her, tilting his hat up, his eyes like twin points of ice. "Can you sense anything out of place? I know the battle must be overwhelming, but I need to know if you can get any read on what the enemy is up to."
Both had to hastily duck behind the ramparts as Mythal's fire licked the walls before she was driven off again. She made a pass at one of the trebuchet, but once again was met with magic and arrows before she could reach the siege engine to try to topple it from its perch. Cole took a moment, fingertips grasping Astlyr's forearm armor as he concentrated. "The old pain is bigger. Almost too much. It pushes over me like a wave of blood and I can't see. It's in my eyes and I can't see." His face twitched. "Anger. Hate. Salty like sweat that stings a fresh wound. 'I will make them pay,'" he spoke between gritted teeth, lowering his voice to a guttural growl.
"That's probably Elgar'nan," Astlyr said, taking a knee so as to be mostly below the level of the ramparts. Beside her archers and mages rose to fire and then they too dropped low to avoid the enemy attacks. "Anyone else? Do you sense Morrigan at all?" She took Cole's hand and pulled him further down to shelter with her.
"No," the boy said after a moment. His longer finger's worked as though he were playing some invisible instrument. "The veil is so thin now, the spirits beyond are pushing against it. They want to see the battle and understand, but they never can."
"Focus, Cole," Astlyr urged, though, now that he had said it, she too could sense how thinly stretched and taught the veil was over Skyhold. It would taking nothing, the merest curling of her fingers, to open a sizable rift now.
"Guilt." the boy looked up, his red rimmed, sunken eyes meeting hers. "I can feel it, like a sliver under the skin. She said she wouldn't fight. 'it's not fighting,' they told her. They told her she could help them and be finished. She didn't want to hurt her love, but she does as she's told."
"Who does?" Astyr leaned forward.
"Eyes like an eagle, watching, Vigilant. She wants to see trees and smell the sky again. Rushing below her, a sea of rippling green and The People singing when they see her as she brings them good hunts."
"Andruil," Astlyr guessed. "The huntress and the hawk. So she's joining the battle after all. But where is she?"
Mythal swept in again with a roar. Several arrows were lodged in the membranes of her wings, and it was clear she was tiring. "I will find her," Cole announced, and before Astlyr could grab him, or tell him to stay, he was gone in a puff of smoke and a gush of air. Astlyr felt the extra chill sting her already ruddy nose. The cold was growing brutal. She turned to seek Cullen and Cas. She found her two commanders rushing up and down the wall, bent double, giving orders. She got their attention and shouted, "go to your units! Something up and we might need foot soldiers after all."
Cullen and Cas obeyed without question, heading for the nearest wall stairs. King Alistair saw them go and met Astlyr's eyes. She gave him a nod and he too departed to his unit. Astlyr stood back up for a moment, practiced eye scanning the field. If she was honest she was much better at small unit combat than the clashing of armies, and she hoped she was compensating well for the deficit in her expertise.
"They're behind us!" Cole reappeared, panting and looking highly agitated. "They're coming in the back of Skyhold! They've got a door and they're coming in!"
Astlyr didn't wait to ask Cole what he meant. She got the gist. Enemy soldiers had found a way to deal with the sheer cliff at the back of the fortress and the fortress was breached. "Tell Cassandra to go," she instructed Cole, who was down in the courtyard doing just that before she could blink.
Astlyr watched the seeker swing her unit around with practiced ease, sending them rushing into the building. Cullen looked concerned as he watched her go, but was too well trained to question, or try to follow. "Ma'am!" Someone grabbed Astlyr's arm, getting her attention.
She turned, looking where the archer was pointing. Mythal had made one, final sweep at the gates, then broken off. Form the mass of the enemy army someone was charging forward. A very small unit, headed by a single soldier. Or was it a soldier? As Skyhold's mages and archers attempted to slay this small group, their missiles encountered a barrier which looked expertly conjured. The man running at the front of the group held his staff high, blue light flooding from it in powerful pulses which kept a thick shield over himself and his fellow chargers.
Astlyr realized too late what this was. "GET OFF THE WALL" she yelled, even as the advancing figure reached the long bridge. She knew, though he was still too far away to see for certain, that he was a mage with only one eye. He had been robbed of the other in an encounter with Bianca the crossbow.
The god transformed. A massive, dragon-like creature with no wings, surging up the bridge like a juggernaut. Astlyr watched as the archers and mages fled the wall, but too slowly. Not all would get clear. Her mind was so consumed with them that she did not even think of herself until someone grabbed her armor and began pulling her. An intrepid archer had run back for her and they weren't going to make it. There was a shuddering, roaring sound of stone being rent apart. Of spells failing and wood splintering. The scream of thick metal being bent and then broken. The wall on which Astlyr and the archer stood buckled and suddenly they were in the air.
Astlyr smashed to earth, snow and grit flying. Her horns saved her from cracking her head against the ground, and her armor took some of the impact of her landing, though she felt it bend and her muscles scream with pain. No broken bones, she thought as she pulled herself to her feet. The archer who had tried to save her was in a crumpled heap before the feet of Elgar'nan. He had broken through the main gate and torn the portcullis as though it were paper. Now he stood, flanked by the mages who had followed him in, staring down the soldiers that awaited him.
As Astlyr struggled to her feet, her own armor hindering her now, bent as it was, she tried to catch the breath that had been knocked from her. Iron Bull reacted before she could fill her lungs with air. She couldn't make out his battle cry, but it sounded vaguely like "kill this fucker!"
"Cullen!" Astlyr rasped. Where was his element? Had they been crushed by the god's assault? No, there he was. Her aching body flooded with relief as she saw her man bring his soldiers to bear on the attacking creature's right flank.
"Take out his mages! We must slay them before the rest of his army reaches us!" Cullen roared, rallying the templars to him. They charged in, few in number though they might be, their focus on the mages as the rest of Cullen and Alistair's troops, plus the chargers, attempted to keep Elgar'nan engaged.
Astlyr fumbled for her sword and saw something large and black moving very quickly out of the corner of her eye. Like a huge shadow, it hugged the wall, then sprang. Her breath caught in her throat. Somehow she knew the creature which now launched itself at the god. The Dread Wolf. Black as a patch of midnight on a clear day it surged forward, jaws agape, red eyes flashing. It ripped at Elgar'nan's thick flesh, scoring a deep gash before the god of Vengeance swung a massive, clawed limb around and sent the wolf sprawling. It was on its paws again in a blink, leaping on the foe with its lips pulled back to reveal an impossible amount of jagged fangs.
Astlyr, realizing she had been standing and watching for too long, rushed to grab her shield, which had landed beside her on the ground. Just as she was about to make her own charge towards the foe, a mage darted into her path. His magic was a deep purple, and for the briefest flash she thought of Dorian. But no. He was an elf with pale skin and sunken eyes. His grin was lopsided, a little insane. His eyes were deep and dark, like the eyes of someone else she knew. The mage stretched out a hand and raised it, fingers like claws. His purple magic coiled over the stones and caressed the bodies of the fallen soldiers around them. Soon the dead had staggered back to life.
Astlyr bit down on a snarl as she readied herself to attack. Clearly this was Falon'din. God of the dead. She reached him in two strides, but he slipped easily away from her. Was he manipulating the Fade to dodge so quickly? His undead were already clawing at her. Slashing clumsily with blades or even battering with their fists.
Skyhol'd soldiers surged in, valiantly fighting both Elgar'nan and Falon'din. Astlyr remembered why she hated big battles like this. In the press of bodies she was an oversized combatant and found she couldn't move properly. She gritted her teeth and tried not to impale any of her own soldiers as she struck out for Falon'din. The death mage caught her eye, his crooked smile still etched across his borrowed face like a scar. He conjured a dagger from his own purple magic, and then, still grinning, drew the dagger across his own chest. A shallow, long cut from shoulder to hip.
Astlyr watched aghast as his magic doubled in potency as his blood flowed, smashing her soldiers out of his way as though they were pesky insects. Astlyr braced herself and rushed him again, ready to feel the claws of the blood mage's power tear into her. Something huge and furry blurred past in her periphery and she missed a step, almost tripping over her own two feet. As she righted herself she saw that Dirthamen had appeared, in animal form, and had tackled his brother in a literal bear hug. He wrapped massive, grizzly limbs around the mage, taking whatever punishment the purple magic dealt to him. She suspected Dirthamen could have done more than this physical attack if she had not taken his foci from him. If only she had it now, she could give it to him, but she had locked it away in her room.
Before Astlyr could decide how she might aid Dirthamen something else caught her attention. The elvish forces had charged once they saw their leader punch an entrance into the fortress, and were already pouring inside. Astlyr ran for the massive hole in the wall where her gate had once stood. As she went she rallied every spare soldier she saw, "TO ME!" she roared. Snow lashing at her face, borne on a cruel wind which was channeled through the fresh wound in Skyhold's defenses. It bit like wasp stings on any exposed skin, but she cared little. She could feel the blood rage surging up in her now. It was about time, she thought with a perverse glee as she smashed into the front ranks of the enemy.
Alun the stone wolf had centered himself on the bridge and was facing off against the oncoming army and June, who, like Falon'din, had not taken on an alternate form, but wore his special armor and moved with a wild unpredictable style. Arrows and blades deflected from Alun's stone flesh, but magic was causing him trouble. Already he was missing an ear where a bolt had clipped his head. His legs showed signs of long cracks. He was being pushed back, almost inside Skyhold now. The elves were getting around him in droves, though he did his best, knocking whole groups of them off the bridge and into the open air.
Astlyr and her soldiers hit the foe with as much force as they could muster. Astlyr outdistanced them almost at once as she waded into the mosh. Her skill with blade and shield, coupled with the blood rage, sent her hurtling deep into the enemy ranks. Hot blood splashed her face as she slit a throat with the deadly edge of her shield, driving her sword home in a mage's chest with her other hand. She heard Alun yelp and turned in time to see him blasted bodily from the bridge to the chasm below. She gritted her teeth in a deadly snarl, kicking an oncoming soldier so hard in the chest that she knew she had broken bones. He fell back with a gurgling gasp.
Cole appeared beside Astyr. Twin blades drawn he easily fell in with her fighting style, covering her back as he shouted, "Cassandra needs help!"
"Take the guard!" Astlyr instructed. "Reinforce Cas!"
"Yes," Cole answered, and, after dispatching two more foes with inhuman quickness, he was gone again.
Astlyr realized then that she had extended herself too far. She stood in the middle of the enemy ranks on the bridge. Her soldiers were struggling to fight their way to her, with little success. If she turned to try to rejoin them she knew her chances for survival dropped. Her best chance was to remain where she was and hope they reached her. The heat in her blood surged as she slew wave after wave. Only the smallest part of her felt anything for those she was killing. A hollow regret as she felled elf after elf. These people deserved better.
Then June faced her, an evil grin on his pale features. He moved with impossible speed, his sword foci finding chinks in Astlyr's armor with ease Seeking to place himself where it was hardest for her to turn, to swing or reach. Her armor hindered her while his did not. He peppered her with shallow wounds, doing his best in the process to keep her from rejoining her soldiers.
A fresh battle cry rent the air. One Astlyr had never heard, but knew at once, "FOR THE CIRCLE!"
Vivienne was borne on a wave of pale blue flame as she and a contingent of her mages joined the fray. The tall woman was wielding an elegant blade of magic and her power was rolling from her in rippling surges. She needed no blood magic to wield such strength. Her eyes with alight with a deadly glow as she rent the enemy forces asunder, making her way to Astlyr, cutting a swath for her mages to fill. She was obviously intent on June.
Vivienne passed Astlyr, sparing the qunari only a glance. "Go. Skyhold needs its Inquisitor alive." Enchantress and god met, a clashing of foci against magical sword. Sparks sprayed everyone nearby. To Astlyr's surprise and endless admiration, Vivienne did not falter as June pressed his weight against the blow. When the smith god sprang to the right, thinking to best this new opponent with agility as he had beaten others, he found himself instead thrown back by a gush of her magic. Vivienne smirked, face to face with him again. Considerably taller than he, and looking as though she personally owned him, this bridge, and the mountains around them, her smile would have made an ordinary man wet himself and cry for his mother. "Get back inside! Your fortress needs you!" the enchantress instructed Astlyr again, her whole body was shimmering with magical fire.
Astlyr obeyed, though she desperately ached to stay and aid her friend, she suspected that if any 'mortal' was a match for the elvhen deity, it was Madame de Fer.
Astlyr charged back to her own forces. The elvish army was managing to push in to the fortress using sheer numbers. She quickly scanned the scene. She wasn't certain where Falon'din was, but Elgar'nan was causing deviation inside the walls. He ripped chunks from Skyhold itself with mighty sweeps of his massive limbs. He gored soldiers by the dozens with his tusk-like fangs. He crushed his attackers underfoot whenever he could. Even the Chargers seemed to have fallen back from this fight. Now he grappled with the Dread Wolf.
Elgar'nan had lifted the wolf from the ground, one massive paw to Fen'Harel's throat Elgar'nan pressed his fellow god against the wall. Fen'Harel struggled, but he efforts were becoming more feeble. Elgar'nan ignored the attacking soldiers who slashed at his legs and struck at him with magic. His focus was on the Dread Wolf in his grip. "ELGAR'NAN!" Astlyr's voice cut through the chaos. Even she was impressed by the volume she achieved. "FACE ME!" She struck her shield with her sword in a thundering challenge.
She didn't think it would work. She was as surprised as anyone when the god turned, releasing the pressure from Fen'Harel's throat. The wolf slumped to earth, transforming back into his elf shape as he struck the ground with an ugly thud. Dirthamen limped over to him, positioning his shaggy body over that of his friend.
"Do we have a plan, Pointy?"
Astlyr glanced to her left. Varric carried Bianca slung low at his waist, ready to fire.
"We're with you, M'gel," Dorian was at her other side.
"No," she breathed. "No, get back!" she said more loudly, but too late. The god tore a sizable chunk of rock from the wall and hurled it. Astlyr moved instinctively, shoving Dorian clear as the rock hit her straight on. She was borne backwards and smashed to earth and stone. She felt something penetrate her armor at her back and bury itself in her body. She had no idea if it was a discarded blade, or a sharp piece of rock. She did know, as pain filled her, and her breath came in little gasps, that her lung was well and truly punctured. She couldn't see. There was too much debris and dust in the air. She knew her right arm was crushed. Broken in too many places to bother considering. She could hear the battle still being fought, but it seemed from a distance, as though she heard it from under water. Was her name being shouted? She couldn't tell.
Warm blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Each breath was an agony that not even blood rage could quell. It ebbed away, leaving her crushed and vulnerable. Her left arm, the only bit of her not pinned by jagged stones, seemed to raise on its own, aglow with green electricity, but it sparked and faded away. She didn't even have the strength to open a tear. She wondered idly if her spine was broken. She hadn't heard a single complaint from her legs. That didn't seem to be a good sign.
Then cool hands lighted on either side of her jaw. "C-Cole?" her voice was a burbling whisper around the blood in her mouth.
"Shhhhh." the boy leaned down, his forehead against hers, his hands cradling her jaw. She realized vaguely that his face was upside down. He was kneeling at her head. The rest of her was buried under the rubble. Something fell on her cheek. Blood. Cole's. He had a cut on his face and it was bleeding down onto her. She wished she had the strength to reach up and brush the blood from his cheek. Then she felt it. A little spike of energy. Cole, bless his heart, was trying to feed her his own strength. She might have sobbed, had she had any air in her lungs. It wouldn't be enough. Even if he gave her everything he had it wouldn't be enough to save her. But...she raised her left arm again, locking her fingers into the veil, feeling the easy pull as it tore.
She felt something else then. Not the usual sting of an open rift. Her hand shone with green light and she felt Cole's hands still holding her, his forehead against hers and then it was as though she had slid backwards into a pool of cold water. Held suspended in it for a long moment, before she stood up.
***** Holy wow. Shit is going down! What happened to Astlyr? Is she dead? Crippled? Is her fortress going to fall? Shit son!
On the plus side we finally got the scene we Cullen lovers have all been waiting for. For Astlyr to finally tell the man that she loves him...sort of. Kadan is close enough, I think. Plus dragon tooth ;)
And Viv is a mother truckin' badass! June is in for a rude surprise if he thinks he can handle her!
I totally made up all the facepaint meanings when Jones was putting the paint on Astlyr, so don't bother trying to look them up in the wiki. Haha.
I *might* be able to get you your next exciting chapter out earlier than next Thursday. We shall have to see how my work schedule looks.
HUGE thanks to anyone who is still reading this monster! I hope the ending is full of surprises and everything we hoped for from the end of DA:I, but didn't get. :)
Much love to you all, gentle readers!
Next: 9/3/15 (if not sooner)
Keep up on FB: pages/Emily-Luebke-Author/283743888311991 *****