A/N: (3/20/2010) Spelling and grammar changes made and one name corrected for reference reasons.
A/N: (5/9/2010) Grammar, punctuation, and a few sentences changed around for smoother reading. My Beta, to_paraphrase, rocks!
A/N: (6/18/2010) Minor punctuation changes.
Part 7: The Nest Torn Asunder
Kallian woke with a start. Some noise had startled her from a rather deep sleep. The first few moments of sleep haze still had her in its grip and she started to lower herself back down on the bed. That was until her nose caught the smell of smoke. Then there was a scream. Her eyes became fully open and she threw off the covers. Others laying in their beds were also rousing. Something was definitely not right.
Decorum out the door, she yanked her cloth breeches off and quickly got her leather pants and boots on. She was about to pull her shirt off, but the door burst open. In the sudden firelight from outside and the light from the small hearth fire within she could see it was Oralyn. Her eyes were wide, face streaked with tears, her dress stained with both ash and blood.
Kallian started towards her, "Oralyn, wh-"
Oralyn ran toward her, screaming, "Lady Kallian! Help us! They're killing everyone!"
Just as the words escaped her, two figures filled the doorway behind her. They came in fully armed and armored. One of the servants who had been heading to the door before Oralyn burst in stood stunned. He didn't have the time to scream as one of them cut a sword into him from collarbone to belly. The other servants shouted in horror, Oralyn backed away from the scene crying "No!" over and over again. Kallian was the only one to move forward.
She got up on the bed, stooping to grab the sword she kept at her headboard, then leapt off using the momentum to carry her toward them. The human assailants turned to look in her direction, then hesitated a second. She suspected that the two were not expecting anyone in the servant's quarters to be armed, and the surprise of it bought her a precious couple of seconds.
Passing close to the hearth and never loosing step, she grabbed the ash shovel and in a single motion scooped up ash and ember and flung it at them both. They reacted naturally, raising their hands to protect their eyes and faces. She came in low to what they left exposed. A simple arc slashed across the thighs of the one closest to her, the sword's tip cutting deep through the leather breeches. A second reverse slash cut through his legs again into the flesh just above his knees. He screamed, squinting, eyes watering, and in his moment of pain, Kallian grabbed his arm and pulled with all her strength.
She got him to turn with his back now to her, facing his companion. None too soon as the second man had recovered and was bringing his sword around to bare. Giving a guttural scream she pushed the wounded man forward, using him like a shield. He crashed into his ally. With a hand still clenched to the back of his collar she gave a swift kick to the back of his knee and both went toppling over, complete shock on the other man's face.
Kallian didn't relent. She planted her knees on the back of the man on top and then brought her sword down over and over onto their heads, shoulders, and necks. She didn't stop until both men had ceased their gurgled cries and twitching.
She panted as she got to her feet, the familiar "killing numbness" she felt at the Arl of Denerim's estate sinking into her. Quickly she stuck her head out the door to look for more attackers, but she saw none in either direction. There was the smell of smoke, blood, and the sounds of the screams and clashes of combat in the near distance. Moving back into the room she saw the servants all cowering in the corner. Oralyn had fallen to her knees, holding herself, staring catatonically at the bodies and blood.
Kallian gritted her teeth then thrust a pointed finger at one of the servants, "You! Mind the door! Let me know if anyone is coming."
He stood there wide eyed at her for some seconds, unmoving. His eyes then flitted back and forth between her and the bodies on the floor.
Kallian snarled, "Maker's Breath, didn't you hear me?"
She strode over, grabbed him by the arm, and hauled him toward the door, "I need you to be my eyes while I get my armor on. Otherwise, I won't have the chance to get you all out of this!"
Hearing about being saved seemed to snap him out of his fear and he looked at her with small dawning hope, "Y . . . Yes, my lady!"
With that he skirted around the bodies and kept lookout at the door. Kallian made it back to her bed and drug out the rest of her gear from underneath it. She stripped off the blood splattered shirt, again not caring that her top was bare to the world, and used it to quickly wipe off her face.
As she started to get the leather armor on she kept looking over at Oralyn. She remained catatonic and completely unmoving.
"Oralyn," Kallian called to her as kindly as she could, but her voice sounded rough. "Oralyn."
It was no use. Kallian's voice wasn't reaching her. She got the last bits of her gear on. By then, the other servants had come out of the corner and were getting shoes and thicker clothes on. She got to a knee and shook Oralyn by the shoulders.
"Oralyn," she had gotten herself between she and her view of the bodies, then shook her harder. "Oralyn!"
She seemed to be staring right through her. Kallian frowned then slapped her stingingly across the face.
"Oralyn! Snap out of it!" she shouted, shaking her by the shoulders again. "I need you here with me!"
She blinked and looked up at Kallian, her eyes wide. She raised a hand up to her own reddening cheek. Oralyn made a piteous sound, but at least she was seeing Kallian.
"I need to know who these men are," she pleaded. "I need to know of a way out of here!"
Oralyn shook her head shakily, "Howe . . ."
"How what?" Kallian asked when she didn't say more. "What are you trying to say?"
She finally found her voice and gripped at Kallian's hands, "Arl Howe! They're Arl Howe's men!"
Kallian's eyes widened and her mind worked fast as lightening even as Oralyn continued.
"They came through the main gate just . . . killing. . . everyone. Jobrey even surrendered and . . . and they just ran him through!" Oralyn began to sob and cry.
She gripped to Oralyn's shoulders as she thought frantically. "Is there a back way out of the castle? A way out they might not know about?"
She tried to hold back her sobbing, "Y . . . Yes. Kitchen . . . next to the cabinet."
"The servant's entrance."
Kallian looked over her shoulder as one of the other servant's spoke up, "In the kitchen there is a small door. The servant's entrance. It's hard to spot from outside the castle so Howe's men might not have seen it yet."
She vaguely remembered a cabinet and a locked door that barely cleared the top of her head right next to it. She'd thought it a supply closet.
"My lady!" her man at the door shouted, pointing down the hall, he sputtered something as he ran back into the room, but Kallian didn't hear him.
She ran passed him, drawing the pair of daggers she "borrowed" from a footlocker in the guard's quarters the day before, and dashed into the hall. An arrow clacked on the stone wall next to her, completely missing its intended target. Two men were down the hall, one with bow, the other with sword and shield. She didn't hesitate and charged. The swordsman sneered and swung his sword at her with an overhand arc. She dodged it, and ran right past him. The archer was still setting his next arrow when Kallian came upon him slashing his bare arms downward with one blade and driving the other into his neck. He fell over in shock and she spun to face the swordsman again. The second he spent hesitating over the fact that he wasn't her initial target just cost him his arrow support and he charged in anger.
Kallian felt calm. Horribly calm. She wasn't fighting these men like she'd fought Vaughan's men. She had anger in her, yes, but it was tightly contained. Emotion had driven her to kill before, and when she did she had spent more time causing pain and savoring their deaths. Now, however, her hits were calculated. She aimed for vitals and looked for ways to incapacitate, figuring the fastest way to fell her enemies and move on. These men's deaths were going to not just mean her survival, but the survival of the people in that room.
He came at her like a boar, shield first, his sword raised high. At the last second, she took one step back and turned sideways to the outside of his shield arm. His momentum carried him forward and he tried to still hit her with the shield by pushing his arm out. She crossed her forearms in front of her, letting the shield hit her arms, and let it push her away. At that exact moment she pushed off with one leg and jutted out her other, her ankle hooking with his. His balance off, the ankle tripping him, he floundered forward, dropping his sword so he could put a hand on the ground prevent himself from crashing face first into the stone. Kallian had kept her balance and she wasted no time in leaping upon him, her daggers digging into his sides where the armor didn't protect as well. He screamed and tried to crawl away from her onslaught. She silenced him with a quick under-slash to the front of his throat.
Her senses fully keyed, she looked at the archer again to see he was also trying to crawl away, a hand clamped on the bleeding wound in his throat. She calmly walked over and finished the job by pulling his hand away and stabbing a dagger straight down behind his collarbone to pierce his lung. Kallian looked around as she pulled the dagger out again and left the archer for dead. Seeing no others around, she quickly headed back to the room and its open door.
The servants jumped as she appeared, but she gave them no calming words. She sheathed her bloodied daggers and stooped down to move the bodies of the two attackers away from the doorway.
"I want you to stay here and wedge the door closed," she grunted in between pulls. "I need to clear the path between here and... mmf ... and the kitchen."
"W.. wait, you're just going to leave us here?" one of the servant's exclaimed as he was helping Oralyn to her feet.
"They have archers. You'll get in the way," she practically snarled at them. "Unless one of you wants to pick up a blade and help me?"
They all seemed to shrink where they stood, one of them shook her head.
"Then stay here, barricade the door," she drew one of the blades again. "And for soddin' sake, don't open it up again until you hear it's me!"
With that she shut the door behind her. A part of her was somehow disgusted. Most of them in there were elves and they were cringing like lambs caught in a slaughter pen. Maybe the bloodshed was a bit too much, but she'd hoped that at least one of them would step forward to offer her help. As it was, none of them could even look her in the eye straight when she asked. Kallian was on her own.
Aedan twisted and pulled the blade out of the gut of the Howe soldier. He fell forward, clutching to the open wound, and Aedan brought down the pommel of his sword to solidly crack at the back of his head. The man slumped to the ground, unmoving, his blood quickly staining the ground.
He swiftly looked behind him, his mother came forward, an arrow still notched in the bow she carried. There was determination in her eyes despite the worried furrow of her eyebrows, and her lips were set thin. Angus, blood on his maw, came about the corner behind her, done with whichever Howe bastard it was that he sank his jaws into.
"They must have already been hiding and waiting for days in the forests for this," his mother said, anger barely being contained in her voice.
Aedan nodded, his tone deadly even, "Waited for Fergus to be too far away with our forces to call them back for aid. Even if we got out and sent a runner..."
"When we get out," she said. "We'll hunt down every last one of these beasts ourselves and see Rendon's head on a pike."
He nodded again, his face grim, and pressed on toward getting to the great hall. Every death he managed to cause seemed to only make the image of his nephew and Oriana's dead bodies burn itself deeper into his mind. Pure rage boiled just beneath the surface, but it was kept in check by the need to see to his duty. Finding his father was the first of these. If his father was dead, then the next duty would be to survive and make Rendon Howe pay for this treachery.
Aedan lead the way, intending to take the shortest path to the great hall. Fire and debris barred his way. Just as he turned to head back the way he came he heard and felt the breeze of a crossbow bolt skim passed his ear. His eyes were wide because had he been standing just an inch or two over, the bolt would have found a home in his skull just behind his ear. The bolt sailed through the air, no where close to hitting his mother, and landed harmlessly in the far distance. He spun to face the debris again and saw beyond it and the fire another of Howe's men reloading his crossbow. He was about to shout to his mother, but before he could Angus leapt through the air, easily clearing the fire.
"Angus!" Aedan called, but beyond the fire all he heard was the gurgled scream of the man as the warhound tore into him.
His mother joined him at his side, ready with her bow, but she had no clear shot. He called to Angus again when the screaming stopped. Suddenly, Eleanor yanked him back by the shoulder, pulling him away just as more burning stone and wood came crashing down from the rooftops.
"Angus!" he shouted again, but looked in dismay as the fire was now too large for even Angus to clear. He hesitated, not wanting to leave him behind. His mother pulled at his shoulder again.
"We've no time! Come!"
Aedan gritted his teeth, knowing she was right. He shouted over the fire one last time.
"Get out, Angus! Get out of the castle!"
He heard one single solid bark, giving him some sliver of hope. Then from the other end of the hall, more of Howe's men came. He took the churning anger in him and channeled it into his determination to not only kill them all, but to protect his mother.
Eleanor let loose with another arrow into the group of six men coming towards them. It stuck into the arm of one of the assailants, causing him to stop his advance. As Aedan passed her to meet them head on, she calmly drew another arrow. A bit of pride struck Aedan's heart as she seemed to have not forgotten how to fight, even though it had been decades since she's had to. He raced forward to reach them before they passed where the hall widened. The five remaining were only armed with swords and in the narrower part of the hall, only three could attack him at once. Aedan rammed into the center one head on with his shield. The man flailed back, causing the two behind him to back away. This only left two to attack him directly.
The one to his right had wide eyes and gritted teeth, and he gave almost this panicked grunting sound as he thrust forward simply with his sword. It was easy enough to block it down and away with his own blade. The one to his left tried to bring his weapon down atop Aedan's head, but a simple raising of his arm and a slight bending of his knees made it clank upon his shield instead. An arrow stuck solidly into the side of the calf of the panicked man causing him to drop his sword, clutch his leg, and give a high pitched scream. The horrid sound made the others pause and Aedan took full advantage of it.
He hacked his sword into the side of the man on the other side of his shield. His arms having been raised high to attack, there was nothing stopping his blade from cutting into the armor and flesh just below his ribs. The man inhaled a gasp as the wound was cut open and he reflexively bent his torso and drew his arm in around the cut. Aedan bashed the shield into his face as his head was bending down and there was a satisfying clonking sound as the hit connected. With another swing, he hit the screaming man again, his blade this time cutting high and across his head. Aedan didn't look too closely at how the sharp edge of his sword cut through his face, but the sudden choking sound was enough to tell him he hit his mark. The death of one, and heavy wounding of the other, made them pause yet again.
In a detached fashion Aedan was coming to realize that the majority of the men sent in here were not that well trained. They were confident enough to brutalize completely unarmed and unarmored people. Murderous enough to slay women and children. However, as he experienced fighting them, he sensed that most of them had never been in a fight to the death with a trained swordsman. Only one that they had killed in the family hall appeared to have had training, but that solitary Howe soldier didn't account for an enraged Teyrna and grandmother to fire several arrows into his torso. These swine were sent to slaughter, not to fight in a strategic manner. In that, Aedan was winning these small battles. They were coming at them in scattered bunches, disorganized and simply killing whatever they ran into. They ran about aimlessly in a place he was born and raised in. So, though it was just he and his mother now, the five remaining men honestly didn't stand a chance.
Ser Gilmore grunted as he helped the House Guard Osmen get another bench braced up against the main great hall door. They had already gotten it barred, but anything extra they added would hopefully prevent Arl Howe's men from ramming through as quickly. The constant thumping of whatever ram they were using had yet to cease and it would only be a matter of time.
It all had happened so quickly. He was wandering about the castle, unable to sleep, his mind heavy with the conversation he had with Duncan. The Grey Warden had given him till the morning to think the offer over. Gilmore had fairly much decided that he would accept it and speak to Duncan in the morning and leave with him and Kallian the same day. He was giving himself one night to think of any reasons why he shouldn't go. Arl Howe's men, unfortunately, gave him one. He knew something was wrong when the two men he didn't know came around the corner with their swords drawn. After that, it was blood, death, fire, and chaos.
He managed to organize the small handful of men into the great hall and was just about to head through the castle with them to find the Teyrn. The Maker saw to it, though, that both the Teyrn and the Grey Warden got to the hall first. The Teyrn was wounded, but he was insistent on finding any of his family. Having not been with the Teyrna when Arl Howe attacked he didn't know if she, Aedan, Oriana, or Oren were alright. Neither Gilmore nor Duncan could convince him to get himself out of the castle. With no other course, Duncan said he'd go with the Teyrn and help him search. He'd looked at Gilmore, not saying a word, but he understood the look with crystal clarity.
It was Ser Gilmore's duty to serve the Couslands and the highest cost of his duty was being called to here and now. He would see to that duty and buy as much time as he could for his Teyrn. Duncan's look told him he wasn't going to pull him away from that for the sake of the Grey Wardens. It also said that he would do what he could in order to help the Teyrn, and Gilmore was eternally grateful. It settled his mind and fortified his determination. This was where he needed to be, no where else.
One of the side doors opened and Gilmore's sword was instantly in his hand. It was lowered again, however, when he saw that it was Lord Aedan and not a Howe soldier coming through the door.
"My Lord Aedan!" He exclaimed as he came forward. Hope rose anew as he saw the Teyrna, clad in armor, enter in behind him. "Your Grace! Thank the Maker, I had thought the worst."
Aedan looked around, his eyes searching the hall. The Teyrna looked a little relieved, but still pensive, "Ser Gilmore, good to see you alive."
"Where's Father?" Aedan asked. "Have you seen him at all?"
"Yes," he replied, motioning to the other side door. "Your father left with the Grey Warden to try and find the two of you and Lady Oriana and Oren."
Lord Aedan and the Teyrna looked at one another, the relief obvious at hearing the Teyrn was last seen alive, but their frowns spoke of more ill news.
Aedan almost growled his words out, "He will not be finding them in the land of the living. Both Oriana and Oren have been slain."
"Sweet Merciful Andraste...," Gilmore shut his eyes at that. He had hoped that at least Lord Fergus's son . . .
"How long ago did they leave?" the Teyrna's words snapped him back to the present. There was no time to grieve and no time to gloss over facts.
"Not that long. Ten minutes at the most. Though, he was badly wounded when he came here," he tried to keep any despair out of his voice. "I'm hoping by now he's stopped searching, or the Warden has convinced him otherwise and he is heading for the servant's entrance. It's the only possible way out of here and I encourage the both of you to head in that direction. With luck, you'll run into the Teyrn there."
Before anyone could say more, a splintering sound cracked the air and they all looked towards the large double doors. They were holding and the men bracing themselves against the chairs, benches, and anything else they could throw in front of it were standing fast. The wood cracking upon the boom of the ram told them of the door's eventual fate.
Gilmore looked back at them both, even taking Aedan by the shoulder and turning him towards the door, "Go. Now. While there's still time."
They hesitated looking at him. Perhaps it was because he was staring death in the face, but he understood completely what their thoughts were from the looks on their faces. The Teyrna and Lord Aedan knew what he was about to do, just as they knew no amount of words were going to convince him to do otherwise. They hated that his duty put him and others like him into this position, but at the same time thanked them for the willing sacrifice.
Aedan briefly put his sword into his shield hand and silently held his hand out for Gilmore. He returned the gesture and grasped his forearm.
"Maker bless you, Ser Gilmore," the Teyrna's voice quivered with near tears as she said it.
"Maker bless us all," he responded. He released Aedan's arm and headed for the main doors to join the other men willing to stand by his side.
Kallian swiped her blade to the side to rid it of the coating of blood that had accumulated on it. Howe's men had been practically around every corner. So far she had been lucky and had gotten the advantage of attacking first every time. She was close to the kitchen now and could sense freedom from the death trap not far away. That was until she turned around another corner and came upon eight heavily armed men wearing Arl Howe's heraldry.
One of them bore a hammer almost as long as she was tall. He was clad head to toe in heavy plate armor and could still move in it all. Her heart became a vice as she knew this was way more than she could handle. She backed away hoping that they hadn't seen her yet, but it was too late. Two of them saw her and shouted, calling all their attention on her. Kallian bumped against a wall in her attempt to try and get away and it slowed her down enough for one of them to catch up to her and snag a bit of her armor. She screamed savagely, twisting in his grasp and slashed out wildly with her daggers. It was enough to make him let go, but not enough to give her space to get away.
Before she could contemplate what to do next, or think about how badly she was about to die, the man farthest away from her shouted again then gave a "hurk" sound that was not natural. She heard another shout and down the hall, passed Howe's men, there was another figure. The unmistakable clank of blade upon blade was heard and suddenly their attention was no longer on her. Including the two men closest to her. Without a second thought she dug a blade right into the neck of the one that had grabbed her and yanked him over in front of her as the pain paralyzed him. The second man seemed to have forgotten her and looking over the shoulder of her makeshift shield she saw why.
Duncan had managed to already cut through two of them. A sword in one hand and a dagger in another, he made short work of his opponents. None of his movements were wasted, every stroke and step was done for a purpose and none were able to get their blades near him. She had thought that he was something with the long two handed practice blade he had sparred her with, but she was wrong. That wasn't his forte, this was. She watched with both awe and a chill up her spine as Duncan never paused, his blades cutting a swath. Then he got to the heavily armed man.
She wasn't able to watch as her hostage tried to paw at her hand with the dagger still stuck in his neck. Kallian twisted the blade slightly making him stiffen and jerk, his breath coming out in gurgled bubbles as she apparently pierced his wind pipe. The movement caught the attention of the second man again who turned to face her. Kallian brought a leg up, placing her foot at the rear of the man she held on to, then let go of him, leaving her dagger embedded in him, and kicked him towards her solitary opponent. He was apparently no friend of the man as he braced for the impact, catching him with his shield before pushing him off and away to the ground. He didn't spare the man another look as he came at her fast. By then Kallian had gotten her dagger into her main hand and gritted her teeth as she parried each hit as best she could.
The man began to grin savagely. He was better trained with the blade and kept pushing her back down the hall away from Duncan. With her free hand she searched by feel into the small side satchel at her hip. It was one of the few little things she brought with her from home that she sought and she found the small cylindrical glass vial with her fingers. She didn't think she would use it so soon, but this was exactly one of those reasons why she carried it. She waited for him to make an appropriate move.
A simple lunge forward was what she was waiting for. Instead of backing away, she moved forward, parrying his sword, and got inside his reach, dropping her dagger as she did so. She thrust her torso forward to pin his shield and arm between them and grabbed to the back of his neck, then kissed him full on the mouth. His eyes widened in full shock, the confusion freezing him. In that second she slipped the vial down the back of his armor, then bit his lip hard. When he gave a startled scream she pushed him back and stepped several feet away.
The man licked at his lip, obviously tasting blood, and looked at her wide eyed. She gave a sneer and, hands empty, motioned at him to come at her.
"Crazy wench!" He hollered and came right at her.
Kallian dodged his sword swings, constantly backing up. When he had enough forward momentum, and he brought his arm on a downward arc, she moved in. She caught and grabbed is arm before he could bring it down, leaned back, planted a foot on his shield and pulled with a controlled fall backwards. She felt her leg muscles protest and she nearly didn't get him completely over her, his sword nicking the side of her face. He went with the momentum, falling forward, off balance and with a shout and a push of her leg, he finally went over her, head over heels. He landed with an audible "oof" and an odd sounding "crack", flat on his back.
She got to her feet as quickly as she could, spun, and backed away. He rolled to his side, cursing at her. Then the cursing turned into screams, the sword dropping from his hand as he tried to reach for his back. She could only imagine what it must of felt like to have the acid from the now broken vial eat through his skin. Wasting no time she ran forward, picked up his longsword and plunged it downward with her weight behind it. It bit through armor and flesh and his screams were replaced by quick inhales of breath. His mouth and eyes were both wide open and his hand was feebly trying to swipe at his own back when she left him for dead.
Running back, she picked up her dagger and came back around the corner in time to see the heavy armed man keel over and Duncan yanking a blade out of the smallest of spaces in between an armor joint. The man hit the ground with a crash and lay there, his leg twitching though life had certainly left him. They both looked around as the others lay dead or dying around them.
She panted as she spoke, gritting a smile to see him still standing, "Duncan."
"Good to see you alive," he said, almost way too calmly, but at least his own breath was labored as well. "Follow me. Have you seen any of the Couslands?"
He didn't wait as he headed for the kitchen and she followed at a scramble, "No. Just servants, these Howe blokes, and you. No one else."
As they got to the kitchen she nearly stumbled as he didn't head for the small door, but for the one leading to the larder. Confused, she followed him in and was about to ask why until she saw the Teyrn, sitting on the sacks of grain along one wall. He was hunched over his side, pressing a hand to the wound there, blood soaking the clothes around it and the sacks underneath him. His face was way too pale. The Teyrn looked at her, his eyes squinting a bit, then blew out a breath, wincing in pain.
"Kallian, I need you to watch the Teyrn while I check to make sure the path out of the servant's entrance is clear," Duncan was already heading out as he spoke. "When I come back, we head out."
"But Du-..." he left before she could say more.
She looked at the Teyrn then, almost uncertain of what to say. Kallian paced for a bit, glancing out the door as she neared it to look and listen for anything. Her mind kept going back and forth between the Teyrn sitting there bleeding and the people still back in the servant's quarters. Finally, the notion of doing nothing at all bothered her too much and she quickly started to dig around the larder. She found a table cloth, placed herself where she could still look out the door, took her dagger, and started cutting off strips of it. She cut another square of it and folded it several times. Gathering it all, she got herself in front of the Teyrn and handed him the folded cloth.
"Press this on it," she heard her own voice and it sounded so coarse.
He looked at her a silent second, looking almost uncertain, then took the cloth with a nod. He slid it over the wound, the cloth almost immediately soaking red. Kallian, without prompting, started to get the strips of table cloth wrapped around his midsection. She tied them as tight as she could, getting them to brace against the folded cloth over the wound. She knew it wasn't going to be enough. The cut was too deep and too wide. What she was doing was almost moot. Almost.
"Thank you," he uttered, his voice a far cry from its normal solidly spoken tone.
She shook her head, unable to look at him in the eye. She got the last strip tied, then sat back on her haunches. Kallian glanced back at the door worried, trying to calm her breathing. She didn't want to disobey Duncan and leaving the Teyrn by himself would be a risk, but she had to finish what she truly had set out to do.
"Your Grace," she looked up at him. "Will . . . will you be alright by yourself?"
His eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked back at her, "Why?"
She sat up some, "There are servants still back in their quarters. The way is generally clear, so I can get there and lead them here, to the way out."
His eyes searched hers, perhaps judging, or perhaps trying to see if she was telling the truth. For that moment, Kallian felt horrid, realizing that these were the only words she would be saying to the man. She'd avoided speaking to him and any of the Cousland family the majority of her time here, and it took this sort of death for her to speak to him. Maybe seeing part of that guilt in her face helped him decide and he reached forward and grasped to her shoulder.
"Get them out," he nodded. "Get as many of the servants out as you can. It will give me some solace to know there will be survivors. Don't worry about me. I will be fine in the meantime. If you're not back by the time Duncan gets here I will let him know what you are doing."
She placed her hand on the one he put on her shoulder, squeezed, and nodded, "Thank you, your Grace."
He shook his head slightly and gave an odd sort of pained smile, "No, thank you."
Kallian pulled away and raced out. Steeling her gut against the guilt she felt in favor of the determination the Teyrn just renewed in her. Even if there were Howe's men outside that servant's entrance she was going to take them there and kill anything in their way to get the people free.
The smell... Oh Maker, the smell...
Oralyn stood there, her hands clutched tight to the shawl that someone put over her shoulders. She couldn't pull her eyes off the bodies. There was blood all over and the smell of bowels loosening. Poor Ettal didn't even know what was coming and his face was stuck in the same look of surprise when the sword cut him open. The two men that Kallian Tabris had savaged were shoved into careless heaps, the ear of one of them hung off the side of his head. It was only kept connected to him by a strip of skin.
She knew people were trying to shake her and speak to her, but she couldn't hear them. Oralyn was no stranger to death. She helped see to the bodies of her parents after an illness swept through the Highever Alienage when she was little. She was by her grandfather's bedside when he passed away. Those deaths, though, were caused by sickness and old age and something she could prepare herself for. This was different. The dead bodies on the floor were living, breathing, healthy beings not more than an hour ago. Now, they and others through the castle were dead or dying in pain and anguish.
Oralyn just wanted it to stop. Wanted it to just all go away. She didn't want to believe any of it was happening. It had to be a nightmare and she just simply couldn't wake up. Vaguely, she understood that the others in the room were getting themselves ready with anything light enough to carry at a run. They were getting antsy as they knew the castle was burning. They wanted to flee right now and risk both the fire and Howe's men. They were saying that perhaps Kallian had left them all there to die. Oralyn was too paralyzed to say anything.
A pounding on the door made them all jump.
"Open the door!" the voice of a woman called from the other side. "It's me, Kallian! Open up!"
Oralyn's eyes were wide as they went to the door. She guessed that she also was thinking deep down that Kallian had abandoned them or died trying to get out. Neither had happened, and the people around her scrambled to get the beds and shelves they barred the door with out of the way. Soon as they got the door open she strode in, smelling of fire, sweat, and blood, moving with the energy of a whirlwind. She headed for where some of her things were still on the floor and gathered it all up, looping bag and container straps around her as she spoke.
"Let me lead the way. It should be clear, but there could be more about," her grayish blue eyes swept the room to look at them all. To Oralyn they looked so clear, almost shining. "If they come upon us, do not panic. Stick to a wall and get out of my way. Move fast and listen to my orders. Is that understood?"
The others gave shaky nods and she gave them a confident smile. Without another word, she stood up fully, then grabbed Oralyn's arm, dragging her along. Oralyn stumbled a bit. She didn't realize that she felt so weak. Had Kallian not yanked her along she doubted she could have made her own feet move. Was her own outward appearance so pitiful right now that she was able to tell all this just by looking at her? There wasn't time to ask, only time to move.
There were more bodies along the way. Some servants, some guards, but most were Howe's soldiers. She tried to see who some of the guards and servants were, but Kallian gave no time for gawking. Before she knew it they were in the kitchen.
"Should we take some food?" someone said.
"We should, yes!" another replied and started to head for the larder.
"No!" Kallian suddenly snapped, running in front of him to block his path. She pointed at the servant's entrance. "There is no time. Just grab and go, damn it!"
She gave a look that booked no opposition. They all obeyed, only grabbing what they could and headed out the servant's entrance door immediately. Oralyn watched as Kallian reached back for the door to the larder, pause oddly as she looked at something within, then fully shut the door. Oralyn didn't understand and didn't have time to ask as Kallian came around again to grab her wrist and pull her along once more.
They followed the length of the small hall to the outer servant's entrance door. Outside was the castle vegetable and herb garden, the chicken coops, and a pen with their pair of milk cows. The animals were panicking, running about their pens. Socha, one of the human servants, had stopped and was yanking and kicking the fences down, letting the animals flee. Little consolation that a small bit of the castle's goods wouldn't be in Howe soldier hands or burned in the fire.
The others had ran ahead, but then stopped, backing away from the line of trees in the near distance. Kallian let her wrist go and raced forward, drawing a dagger as she went. Oralyn shook her head, not wanting to see more death, but Kallian slowed down again.
"Duncan!" she heard her say.
From the tree line the Grey Warden strode out, a sword in hand and his armor bloodied. He looked at them all, eyeing Kallian mostly. There was some silent exchange between them, then the Warden motioned to the trees.
"The way is clear," he said, looking at all of them. "Keep to the forest and stay away from the roads for some time. They will find this entrance soon so do not stop running. Now go!"
They began to move, but Kallian took Socha by the shoulder and pulled him to where Oralyn stood. Without a word she took her wrist, put it in Socha's hand and lightly pushed them both towards the trees. Socha didn't ask and simply pulled her along.
Oralyn looked back. The Warden and Kallian watched them go a moment, then to her shock they turned and headed back to the castle. Her eyes widened and she yanked her wrist out of Socha's hand, running back to them.
"Kallian!" she hollered out, making them both pause and turn to look. She gripped to her shawl, "Milady Kallian, what about you? Aren't you coming with us?"
Behind them a rear wall of the castle collapsed outwards. The fire burning brighter, the light made the clouds above glow an orange-red and it illuminated everything in that same color. In that light she saw Kallian blink a few times at her. She looked back at Duncan who said nothing and continued on his way back to the castle.
Looking at Oralyn again, Kallian gave her an odd sort of grin. It was so out of place for the situation, which made it almost frightening. However, there was a determined glint in her eyes.
"Duncan brought me here," she said. "Where he goes, so do I. We have some unfinished business in the castle."
Oralyn shook her head, not wanting her to go, but unable to say it.
"Now get yourself out of here," she called out as she started to jog off to catch up. "And Maker guide your steps!"
And with that Kallian Tabris ran. Oralyn felt Socha take her wrist again and she went when he pulled. But she couldn't stop looking behind her, couldn't stop wondering why she and the Warden would head back into the blood and death and fire, and couldn't stop wondering why she didn't posses the courage to do the same.
Bryce let out a slow small breath. He discovered that as long as he didn't breathe too deeply he could keep the wound generally closed. Not that it really mattered.
He understood why the Grey Warden recruit had stopped his people from entering the larder to see him there. She must have known that they would have insisted on getting him out, just as she also knew that moving him at all would have meant death. The elf had given him an almost apologetic look as she eyed him when she closed the door. He hoped that the encouraging nod he gave her was enough to let her know it was the right choice. His people would have been distraught to see him like this and fall apart if he died on them. They were not going to be able to afford that any more then they could afford time spent trying to carry him out.
It struck Bryce as strange that out of all kinds of people there were, it was an elf from the Denerim Alienage that understood this better than some of his best advisers probably would have. Duncan, it seems, was rather adept at picking them.
Better than you at picking friends, Bryce Cousland, he winced once as the pain twinged again. Or more correctly, knowing when one can be trusted.
He had known it. Bryce wanted to deny it, but there were signs for months coming from Amaranthine that said something was amiss. First, it was the word of ships coming and going with Tevinter mages and merchants, yet they couldn't get word of what goods were being traded. Then it was the robbery and murder of Bann Gatnin, a stalwart supporter of the Couslands, who had been visiting Arl Howe at the time of his demise. There were murmurings of the amount of supposed "house guards" that Rendon had added on with no logical explanation. Several freeholders and Banns who had sent word to Amaranthine for aid with minor bandit trouble received no responses, prompting them to send message to Highever instead. The levies, roads, and other basic foundries that were under Howe's charge had been neglected for far too long making one wonder where the funds for their maintenance was going. It all pointed to some hidden agenda.
Yet, he ignored the possibility that Rendon had aims to overthrow him. He fought and bled by his side to free Ferelden from the Orlesians. Worked, sweated, and toiled to rebuild much of what had been lost. Certainly there were moments where Bryce had to remind him to mind his words, and a time or two at court where he had to place himself in between Howe and another Arl when words had become heated, but overall he'd been a friend. He didn't want to think that the last thirty some odd years meant nothing to Rendon Howe. Unfortunately, it apparently did.
The appearance of the darkspawn hoard and the King's calling was all it took for Howe to decide to take action. Bryce was certain that had the darkspawn not shown he would have eventually tried something to overtake the Teyrnir. Simply assassinating Bryce wouldn't have been enough with both Fergus and Aedan very able to take the title. And even if Rendon found some way to kill all three of them without tipping his hand, Eleanor was strong and willful enough to retain the title and hold it long enough for Oren to age into majority. Rendon would have had to attack with a large enough force and likely cause yet another war between Amaranthine and Highever that could have lasted for years to come in order for him to truly try and take the Teyrnir. Provided King Cailan would have stood for it for long. So instead of all that, Howe took advantage of an unexpected situation and stabbed them all in the back in a time of dire need.
He started to lose hope that any sort of justice would be seen to or that any of his family was still alive, and then tensed as he heard voices and shuffling outside the door. One voice got closer, and then he could hear it clearly as the door opened.
" . . . hoped he'd be here, but let's quickly gather any food we can to- ... Bryce!"
Eleanor's eyes went wide with shock to see him there and she quickly ran over to him. Behind her quickly came Aedan and his heart rejoiced to see them both.
"There you are," he gave a weak smile, quickly burying the doubts he had. "Was wondering when you'd get here."
They were both quickly at his side, Eleanor tentatively reaching a hand to the bloody makeshift bandages at his side, "Bryce, all this blood. What happened? You should have gotten out of here while you could!"
"Was talking with the Grey Warden," Bryce tried to take careful breaths. "Howe's men came in, taking us both by surprise. One of them got me good. Then I couldn't leave without trying to find one of you. Duncan left me to rest here while... while he checked to see if the exit was clear. "
Aedan spoke with a look of worry he'd never seen on his face before, "He just left you here alone? Father, we need to get you out of here now."
Bryce shook his head and placed a hand on one of Aedan's arms as he tried to reach for him, "No, not alone... but you and your mother need to go. I am too injured to leave."
"Bryce, no," she placed a hand on his knee, her eyes pleading with him. "The servant's passage is just right there. We can flee together and find you healing magic!"
"Where? Highever?" he tried to smile, being sensible with his wife. "They'll look for us in the town proper and there's nothing else close. Besides, I can not even stand, let alone run."
"Then we'll drag you out," his son said.
He looked at him and saw Aedan's eyes flit down to the wound and back up to this face. Bryce knew that his son's heart was trying to deny what his eyes and mind were telling him. Knowing his fierce boy, he was going to have to hear it from his father in order to believe it.
"Not unless you want to leave bits of me behind, Pup," he said it both jokingly and affectionately to him. Aedan's shoulders sagged a little as the truth of the severity of his injuries was made real for him.
His wife didn't take to the attempt of levity, "Bryce! This is no time for jokes!"
"You're right," he nodded. "No time for jokes... but time for you to go. You need to escape... and you need to do so without me."
Eleanor's lips pinched and she shook her head. He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. Aedan opened his mouth to say something, but then another from the doorway spoke.
"I'm afraid the Teyrn is correct."
They all looked, Aedan's hand going quickly to the blade he sheathed at his back, but then relaxed when he saw it was Duncan. As he entered, his recruit came in after him, but she stopped at the door. She kept a blade in her hand and turned to keep a lookout. The Warden came to stand between his wife and his son and knelt to the ground along with them.
"Howe's men have not yet discovered the exit," Duncan continued. "But they will soon surround the entire castle. Getting past will be difficult the longer we wait."
Bryce silently thanked the Maker for bringing Duncan back in to the larder in time. He needed his aid in fighting against Eleanor and Aedan's stubbornness. Bryce wasted no more time.
"Duncan," he began. "You are under no obligation to me, but I beg you . . . take my wife and son to safety!"
Thankfully the Warden didn't even hesitate to answer, "I will, your Lordship. But . . . I fear I must ask for something in return."
"Anything!" Bryce truly didn't care now. He just wanted them out and safe, regardless of everything else.
"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world," he said it so calmly that his words brought Bryce back down from his ever nearing panic. "I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."
"I . . .," Bryce swallowed and then looked at his son.
He was suddenly reminded of some of the harsher lessons he learned from his father and in his life. Of duty, of sacrifice, of swallowing one's pride, and knowing that there is always a greater cause then your own personal battles. He knew Duncan spoke the truth even though a part of him railed at the notion that any of this could pale in comparison to anything. This was his family, this was his life, and the ambition of a man he called friend was the cause of it all being destroyed. He wasn't going to have it and if sacrificing his son's future would see to things done and aid in the greater cause, then so be it.
"I understand."
"What?" Aedan's eyebrows furrowed more past worry, looking between Duncan and himself. "No, you can't mean that. My duty is to take vengeance on Arl Howe!"
"And how do you propose to do that?" he looked at his son solidly. "You will need more then just you and your mother to survive this and see it done."
"I will take the Teyrna and your son to Ostagar to tell Fergus and the King what has happened, and they will be the ones to punish Howe," Duncan said, then also looked at Aedan. "A Grey Warden's duties take precedence even over vengeance, but if you join then I will see to it that the people who need to know of his treachery will be informed."
"Howe thinks he'll use the chaos to . . .," Bryce winced and gulped as the pain in his side flared, but he pressed on. " . . . to advance himself. Make him wrong, Pup. See that justice is done!"
Aedan started to shake his head, he could see he was trying to deny things. He knew he understood what it meant, but still didn't want to take the path. Bryce reached out and grasped to the back of Aedan's hand.
"Our family," Bryce said, speaking with as much conviction as possible. "Always does our duty first. You know this. The darkspawn must be defeated. If they are not, then justice will be moot. You must go. For your own sake and for Ferelden's."
Aedan looked at him for the longest of moments. He saw the look in his eyes go from worry and denial to understanding and determined. He placed his hand over Bryce's own, squeezing it, "I will, Father. For you."
"Then I offer you a place within the Grey Wardens," Duncan said to Aedan. "Fight with us."
Aedan nodded and Bryce felt a little more at ease as he spoke, "I agree."
"We must leave quickly then," Duncan stood as did Aedan.
"Bryce," Eleanor spoke almost softly. "Are you... sure?"
He looked at his wife, giving a reassuring look, "Our son will not die of Howe's treachery. He will live and make his mark on the world."
Eleanor looked at him, uncertain at first, then a look of resolve etched on her face.
"Darling," she began, looking at Aedan, "go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."
"Eleanor . . .," Bryce gaped at her. They all looked at her wide-eyed. Even the Warden recruit snapped a look over her shoulder.
"Hush, Bryce," she shook her head slightly at him. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time. But I won't abandon you."
"Mother, no," Aedan stepped closer to her, kneeling again. "You can't sacrifice yourself like-"
"Your place is with the Grey Wardens," she interrupted. "Mine is with your father. At his side . . ." Eleanor looked at him again, saying the same words she did when they spoke their wedding vows, " . . . to death and beyond."
Bryce felt his heart swell. He knew her stubbornness wasn't going to allow any of them to talk her out of it and he loved her all the more for it.
"Go, Pup," he said to Aedan. "Warn your brother. Know that we love you both. You do us proud."
"I . . ." Aedan croaked out, obviously still warring with the instinct to stay and protect. Finally, he managed to speak, "I love you both."
There was an audible, almost thundering cracking that came from somewhere else in the castle. The Warden recruit looked in to the larder again, urgency in her voice.
"Duncan!"
"They've broken through the gate," Duncan grabbed Aedan by the scruff of his armor, hauling him to his feet and barked out in command like fashion. "We go. Now!"
He watched as they left, his son almost stumbling as he went. Quietly he uttered, knowing he wouldn't be able to hear him, "Go with the grace of Andraste and the guide of the Maker . . ."
Eleanor gave a slightly relieved sigh watching her son go. It wasn't going to do any of them any good for them all to die here. She had known that regardless of what she had actually said, Eleanor would have been able to keep up with them to Ostagar. Even hold her own. But when she thought of leaving Bryce behind she found that she wasn't going to be able to. Both her heart and her mind refused. She knew her boy, her little pup, was strong enough to face what was to come on his own. The mother in her was willing to let Aedan go, the wife in her was not about to leave Bryce behind.
When she looked at him she found that he was already looking at her. The strength he was trying to show their son faded to something softer. It was a look reserved for her. The one he only showed to her in those long nights when he needed to be weak. When he needed to not be a Teyrn and just a man and a husband. She reached up to touch the side of his face gently, then squeezed his knee.
"I will be back," she nodded her head reassuringly. "I'm just going to make it more difficult for them to get through."
Bryce closed his eyes a second, then nodded. Eleanor got up and headed into the kitchen. She worked fast. Getting the kitchen door closed she overturned a nearby table to brace against it. Then she pushed the cabinet over on its side so it blocked the servant's entrance door. Her final act was to take the two barrels filled with lamp oil and tilt them over so the oil spilled all over the floor. She grabbed one of the lit oil lamps from overhead and went back to the larder.
She set the lamp on the floor near the door, then gathered her quiver and bow. Positioning herself to have a clear view into the kitchen she notched her first arrow and waited. She could hear through the door the harsh and chilling sounds of men shouting, screaming, and fighting.
Then she heard Bryce speak softly, yet clearly, "Have I told you lately how beautiful you are to me?"
Eleanor shot a slightly incredulous look at him and was about to retort that it wasn't time for such talk. Then the reality hit her. They didn't have any more time to speak of. So instead she gave a wan smile and shook her head.
"No," she replied. "I believe you have been remiss in that the last few weeks."
"You'll have to forgive me, then," he gave a soft smile. "I've had . . . much on my mind lately. So . . ."
He took a careful breath and continued, "You're more beautiful to me now then you were when we first met. Even more beautiful after the birth of our first son . . . or our second. Though . . . it's a near thing."
"Oh, Bryce . . .," she shook her head, still smiling, and looked out the door again. There were times that he knew how to drive her to speechlessness.
He spoke again, but this time his voice was a little more coarse, "I . . . I'm sorry it's come to this, my love . . ."
She looked over again. His head was down and he clutched to the bloodied cloth at his side. She went over to him then, gently kneeling on one knee on the sacks next to him. Putting a hand on the back of his head, she leaned forward as he raised it, and she softly placed her forehead at his temple. He raised a hand up to caress the side of her neck. They remained that way for some seconds.
"We had a good life and did all we could," she whispered. "The rest is up to our children now."
A noise in the hall outside the kitchen caused her to glance over her shoulder, then she looked back at Bryce. He looked up at her, knowing what she had to do. Eleanor leaned in, lovingly kissed her husband one last time, then strode over to the door, resetting her bow.
She was going to make it difficult for them to follow her son and demonically difficult to get to Bryce. Eleanor didn't call herself a battle maiden for nothing, after all.
A/N: I hope this one isn't too long for folks to read. Again, I couldn't find an easy break. Would very much like feedback on this one. Good, bad, indifferent, nitpicky, what have you. I appreciate the comments and interest so far.