It was a ride that Alistair felt he would remember the rest of his life; first the race to catch up with the army where they were already making camp a couple of miles away, then heading to Gwaren at as much speed as they could make. Loghain was worried enough that he had Dorn split the army, the slowest horses and the baggage train being left to pack up camp and then follow at their own speed while the remainder raced ahead. He also requested that the wardens – most of whom were on poor mounts – be remounted out of the army's horses, so that they might all be in the forefront of the run to Gwaren. Dorn agreed, knowing how big a difference even one warden could make in a fight, and most particularly in a fight against darkspawn.
The two dwarven engineers were also brought along, what remained of their supplies loaded on a pair of mules who loudly protested the speed of their journey at first, but were given little choice but to race along with the horses. The pair of dwarfs seemed little less happy than the mules, liking neither the speed they were moving nor the height they were having to travel at. They rode without stopping, only slowing as necessary to rest the horses enough so that they wouldn't founder.
It was a vast relief when they topped a ridge overlooking Gwaren that afternoon and found the city – more of a large walled town than a true city – looking peaceful and undisturbed. Loghain gave a single, relieved sigh. "We're not too late," was all he said, and then led the way down the hill, the city disappearing behind a screening wall of tall trees as the road curved down the hillside.
When they came in sight of the city gates a messenger separated from their group, heading to the city to make sure everything was fine there, and the city guards warned. Loghain turned them off onto a narrower road that skirted along the outside of the walls before turning to the southwest, winding its way among the bluffs and headlands of the coast.
Alistair knew when they were close to the cave Loghain had spoken of; he could feel it. So could the other wardens.
"More darkspawn," Oghren grated out, sounding tired. Though he and his group had every right to be tired, not having had any chance to rest yet.
"Yes," Loghain agreed, and turned in his saddle to signal to Captain Dorn, a rapid exchange of hand signals between the two men leading to Dorn shouting orders and everyone stopping to dismount, the horses all gathered and roped together.
They advanced on foot, the wardens leading the way, everyone with weapons in hand.
"There should be a small stockade surrounding the cave entrance, and a gate blocking it," Loghain explained. "It's more designed to keep curious people and wild animals out than to keep anything in, however it should make it at least slightly more difficult for the darkspawn to exit the cave. With luck they're not even that far yet, but instead are still working on breaking through the wall blocking the old outpost exit."
"What happened to the original door?" Kev asked. "Good dwarven construction should have lasted for centuries."
"It did," Loghain said. "Though even good dwarven construction proved to be not up entirely up to the corrosive effects of sea air; the Legion of the Dead had to melt their way through it with acid when a group of them came above ground with King Maric back during the Rebellion. After which the door was no longer operable. Nor repairable. We blocked it off as best we could at the time, and later once I was made Teyrn of Gwaren I had human masons do what they could to seal it off. But even 10 feet of packed rubble and a solidly built masonry wall won't last forever against darkspawn."
Hern and Kev both snorted, their opinion of human craftsmanship not needing any more comment than that. Loghain actually smiled slightly, looking amused. "It was the best I could afford at the time; I'd have preferred to hire dwarves to seal the entrance, but unlike northern Ferelden there are no surfacer dwarf enclaves around here, and it would have cost a small fortune to import any dwarves from the north for the job, especially when there was already so many lucrative jobs being offered during the rebuilding. There was no money to spare, and certainly not a fortune of any size of it. Anyway, the point is that the wall will hold for a while, but is far from solid enough to keep them from breaking through."
They came in sight of the stockade he'd mentioned a few minutes later, set in a clearing to one side of the road, at the base of a steep outcrop of limestone. It all looked peaceful enough; had it not been for the way the senses of the wardens were tingling, there wouldn't have been any reason to suspect that darkspawn were in the process of digging their way out.
Had dug their way out, they had proof of a moment later, when a loud roar sounded from somewhere beyond the heavy gate sealing an opening at the back of the stockaded area, audible even from where they were. "Ogre," several of the wardens said in unison, including Loghain and Alistair. The gate shuddered visibly a moment later from some heavy impact, followed by a second loud roar and a chorus of lesser ones. The darkspawn could sense the wardens just as the wardens could sense them, and were clearly enraged by their presence.
The wardens hurried forward, Loghain exchanging hand signals with Dorn again as they moved, the army spreading out to surround the stockade while the wardens headed straight for the gates into it, a unit of archers hurrying to where they could climb up the bluff and get to a position looking down into the stockade. The best plan was obvious; to keep the darkspawn contained within the stockade, the wardens and the army keeping them penned there and killing any that tried to escape it, while the archers picked the darkspawn off from above.
The gate sealing the cave shuddered again, then again, then suddenly splintered outwards, beginning to give way as the ogre rammed repeatedly into it.
"Keep this outer gate closed, or open it, commander?" Nathaniel asked, eyeing the chain and lock that held it shut. "I doubt that chain will last long against an ogre."
"Best we open it, I think," Loghain said. "Rather than risk being surprised when it gives way."
Nathaniel nodded, pulled a set of pick-locks out of his belt pouch, and had the lock open and the chain on the ground within moments. They swung the stockade gates open and took their positions just in time, the gate at the cave mouth finally giving way, an ogre roaring in fury as it shouldered its way out. The darkness behind it seethed with motion as more darkspawn followed in its wake, pushing aside the shattered remnants of the heavy beams that had made up the gate as they emerged.
The wardens readied themselves, Loghain and Alistair anchoring the centre, with Oghren's group to one side of them, Nathaniel's group – his original one – to their left, and the newer wardens in a second line behind them. Bowstrings sang as arrows flew, arching up and then falling down among the press of darkspawn. Roars made it clear that the arrows were finding targets. The ogre bellowed angrily, swiping at its head where a couple of arrows hung in its brow and cheek, having missed its vulnerable eyes, then charged forward. The wardens braced themselves, Loghain and Alistair shouting in unison to gain its attention.
Loghain engaged it first, bracing himself to parry a blow that came close to knocking him off his feet. Alistair moved to the right, planning to take a swing at its neck while it was distracted by Loghain, but was buffeted away by a blow to the chest from its arm before he could get close enough to take a swing. Oghren ducked under the arm and swung at its ankle, while on the far side of it Alistair caught a glimpse of Podge hewing away with paired hand-axes at the ogre's side, and Crunch darting back and forth as he tried to find a piece of it he could attempt sinking his teeth into.
The ogre bellowed again, swatting angrily at the wardens. They scattered, then closed in again. The larger mass of darkspawn, meanwhile, had split into several groups, the largest group of them coming up behind the ogre and trying to get at the wardens, and several smaller groups trying to either break out of the stockade, or scale the face of the bluff to where the archers were located.
The ogre crouched and then charged forward, butting horns-first into Loghain and sending him stumbling backwards, a whoop escaping him as the air was forced from his lungs by the impact. He wavered, then fell to the ground, face reddening as he tried to catch his breath. Alistair sprang after the ogre with another loud cry, attracting its attention before it could attack the fallen man. It turned and then swung both arms at him, forcing him to duck out of the way of one arm and block the blow of the second with raised shield, wincing at the force of the impact.
With the ogre out of their way, the mass of darkspawn behind it began to press out of the gate, forcing most of the wardens to turn away from it in order to deal with them instead, Crunch staying with the wardens rather than pursuing the ogre. Loghain was soon back on his feet, he and Alistair keeping the ogre occupied while the three hunters – Bekka, Gabe and Lew – peppered it with arrows, Wilf standing back with his mallet in hands, moving from side to side but unable to get in close enough to take a swing at the monster. The ogre bellowed in fury, maddened by the arrows, and swung its arms around again. Loghain dodged out of the way, but didn't move quite far enough, the ogre's hand clipping his shoulder hard enough to spin him around and send him staggering a few steps to one side before he caught his balance again. Alistair ducked, but didn't move far enough away, and suddenly found himself in a position he'd been in before and never liked, caught in an ogre's hand and being swept up into the air.
Both hands closed around him, the ogre roaring at him as its massive fingers tightened painfully around him, only his armour saving him from a rapid, painful death. Which probably meant he was going to have a slow, painful death instead, he found himself thinking dizzily, unable to breathe as the pressure of its hands increased, its thumbs steadily compressing the jointed plates of armour that normally protected his stomach.
Something shot by his head, passing so close to his cheek he felt the wind of its passage and heard the faint sound it made as air parted around it. There was a very meaty-sounding thunk and a crack of bone as the flat top of Wilf's mallet smacked solidly into the ogre's forehead between its horns, the miller having apparently thrust with its long handle like a spear or pole-arm rather than swinging it. The ogre's hands loosened, Alistair dropping to his knees as he gasped for breath, vision tunnelled and full of silver sparks from his lack of air.
There was a loud shout, and he looked up dizzily just in time to see Loghain leap past him, arms spreading wide for balance before his feet crashed into the ogre's chest, knocking it over backwards. The commander reversed his sword, taking the hilt in both hands before driving it down into the indented spot where the mallet had cracked its skull. The ogre convulsed and wailed once as it died, then went limp.
Wilf hooked a hand under Alistair's arm and hauled him easily back to his feet. "Thanks," Alistair gasped out, then looked at the mallet hanging from the tall man's other hand, and grinned. "You've good aim with that."
Wilf smiled almost shyly, looking pleased. "Have to, in the mill," he said.
"Good work, but we're hardly done yet," Loghain said as he rose back to his feet, having to brace himself for a moment to pull his gore-covered sword free. "There are still plenty more darkspawn to kill."
They returned to battle, rejoining the other wardens in fighting the darkspawn trying to press out of the gate. Alistair and Loghain anchored the centre of the line again, a little wider apart now so that Wilf could make use of his mallet in the gap between them, the three hunters remaining far enough back from them to continue using their bows. Alistair soon found himself falling into a once-familiar rhythm of movement; fending off attacks with his shield, defending or attacking with his sword, genlocks and hurlocks trying to kill him and being killed by him instead, or by sudden darts of Loghain's sword or Wilf's mallet, or by the arrows that appeared at irregular intervals. He was conscious, in a rather distracted way, of how well the two groups of wardens to either side worked, the silent teamwork of partners well-used to each other.
To his right there was Edrick moving about with surprising speed and dexterity for his size, a long dagger in one hand and a nasty-looking implement – a cargo hook, a dockman's weapon – in his other. His long arm would stretch out, and the sharp hook would effortlessly snag some darkspawn, yanking it in range of the cutting blade, then he'd shake the wounded creature free in range of Oghren's axe or Cale's hammer. Jowan was tucked in behind the three, healing them when they took damage from the darkspawn, his magics slowing the darkspawn and speeding his companions.
To the left was Nathaniel's group, the man having put aside his bow for now and instead using a longsword and dagger, chopping up the darkspawn as coolly as a farm-wife cutting up chicken for the pot. Podge stood on one side of him, wielding paired hand axes, Brann on the other, with paired daggers. Nothing that came near them got away unscathed from all those sharp edges. Velanna was doing little in the way of healing, but a great deal in the way of damaging the darkspawn herself, summoning thorn-covered brambles and roots that tore at the darkspawn, held them fast while the three men dealt with them, flinging out crackling attacks of lightning-based magic whenever the press of still-living bodies became too great.
There was a splintering sound and a chorus of roars and shouts off to one side; a group of darkspawn had broken down a section of the stockade and were beginning to push through the opening. Soldiers were closing in on the opening.
"Alistair, Wilf, hold here – you three, with me," Loghain snapped out, and sprinted off in that direction, the three hunters falling in behind him.
Wilf moved forward and left a little toward the spot Loghain had been in, where he'd have some defence from darkspawn on one side from Alistair's shield-work, and could make full use of his mallet. Sometimes he swung it two-handed, but mostly he used it like a thrusting weapon, one hand tight around the butt, the other loose around the long shaft, serving as support and guide. It didn't do as much damage that way – though as heavy as the metal head was, the impacts were still enough to break bone and pulp flesh – but it also left him far less open to counter-attacks by the darkspawn than swinging it would have. And he had almost uncanny aim with the thing, shattering joints or heads of any darkspawn that dared get within range of him.
The press of battle began to slacken, then tapered off, a last few darkspawn fleeing back toward the cave, most of them cut down by the archers on the bluff, only a handful escaping back into the darkness. The wardens grimly made their way around inside the stockade, finishing off any wounded darkspawn, gathering together again back at the gate when that distasteful but necessary task was done.
Loghain was standing with his helmet under one arm, shield leaning against one leg, looking tired. Bekka sat on the ground nearby, biting her lip and trying not to cry out as Jowan set a broken forearm, applying just enough healing power to encourage the break to heal cleanly before splinting it. Gabe crouched on his haunches beside her, looking tired and worried, his face only relaxing when Jowan said something to reassure the pair that she should heal without problems.
Captain Dorn walked up, looking almost as tired as Loghain did. "Three dead," he said grimly. "Half a dozen injured."
Loghain nodded. "Jowan, can you see to the injured soldiers?"
"Of course," Jowan said, fumbling in his belt pouch for a lyrium potion before heading off to where the soldiers were gathered.
"What next?" Dorn asked.
"We should make camp here, at least for now," Loghain said. "There's a headland overlooking a beach a few minutes walk to the southeast from here; we can camp there, and clean up in the ocean in shifts. We'll need to deal with this opening, either seal it as we did up north, or at least block it again. Though I think a patrol should go in first, and make sure that there aren't any significant numbers of darkspawn left in this section of the Deep Roads. We'll likely be here a few days."
Dorn nodded. "I'll send someone to fetch our horses then, and a messenger to locate the baggage train and see it gets here" he said, and looked around at the carpet of dead darkspawn. "And the bodies?"
"The wood from the stockade should be more than sufficient to burn them all. And to block that cave entrance off again, at least temporarily. If you'll have your men work on that, I'll have mine gather the corpses."
Captain Dorn nodded agreement, and went off to give the appropriate orders. After that it became the same sort of nasty business they'd had to deal with after rescuing Podge's patrol; gathering up the corpses and laying them out on stacks of wood prepared by the soldiers, trying not to think too much about the disgusting state of many of the bodies. As inhuman as they were, the darkspawn still had much the same bits inside of them and smelled much the same as dead dwarves or humans would have, and the work was never anything less than ugly.
"Wouldn't it be easier if we just dug a pit and buried them?" Lem asked as he and Alistair carried a hurlock over to add to the growing pile of wood and corpses.
"Might seem that way, but the corpses are tainted; any wild animal that dug down and ate the carrion would end up blighted. If you've ever seen a blight wolf or a bereskarn you know how nasty that can be. And wherever they were buried would become blighted soil; only fire completely destroys the taint," Alistair explained.
Lem made a face. "Had a bereskarn caught by one of my deadfall traps once, back in the blight year. I was damned glad it was a deadfall; wouldn't have wanted to come across something like that still alive. That was up northwest of Ostagar, and a good part of why I moved so far east. Didn't want to stay around where stuff like that might be," he said, then looked over the pile of darkspawn corpses and grimaced before spitting off to one side. "Just my luck, eh?"
Alistair smiled. "Yeah. Funny how things work out sometimes."
A militia unit arrived from Gwaren just as they were piling the last of the body pieces – the ogre, hacked into movable-sized bits by Oghren and Podge – onto the piles of wood. Loghain smiled slightly, calling out a greeting to the man leading the group, clearly someone he knew – as, doubtless, he'd know almost everyone they met around Gwaren, Alistair realized – and went over to talk to the man. That ended with the militia taking up position to oversee the burning while most of the wardens and the army moved to the southeast, to the headland overlooking the beach Loghain had spoken of. Nathaniel's group remained behind to provide warning if any darkspawn returned, while a few soldiers doused the wood piles with oil and started the pyres burning, and a second, larger group of them worked on blocking off the cave mouth.
The baggage train caught up with them just before they reached the headland, along with their horses. The wardens and any of the soldiers who'd gotten blood on themselves while fighting descended a steep path down to the beach, to wash off in the cold saltwater, while the rest began work on setting up a proper camp on the headland. The beach was soon dotted with piles of discarded armour, the water filled with people washing and wading and complaining about hoe cold the ocean water was, a few braver souls heading out to deeper water and swimming.
Alistair hissed as he saw the dark bruises striping his ribs where the ogre's grasp had forced the edges of his armour painfully into his skin. He was going to turn all sorts of ugly colours before those healed, he was sure. Though at least it was nothing worse than bruises; his ribs ached, but not in the way of something broken. Nor was he the only person to display such marks; not a warden had escaped without bruises, scrapes, or cuts, though thankfully Bekka's broken arm was the worst of their collective injuries, and something that would heal cleanly, especially with two mages around to heal it further if needed.
The cold saltwater felt good on his skin, especially on the bruises, though he wasn't looking forward to when it dried later. He hoped there was somewhere around where they'd be able to get fresh water to rinse off with. There must be, he decided, or else Loghain wouldn't have chosen this spot for them to set up camp; the horses would be needing fresh water too, among other things. Thinking of the man made him wonder where he was, and glance around for him.
It took him a while to spot him; Loghain turned out to be one of the swimmers, cutting through the waves some distance off shore as he swam along parallel to the beach, with surprising energy for a man his age. Alistair himself stuck to the shallows, not going in any further than waist-deep, and was startled when Oghren swam past him, kicking and paddling enthusiastically and headed for deeper water. Most of the wardens were swimming, he saw, with varying degrees of proficiency. It made him feel horribly self-conscious about only being in waist-deep. He ducked under and scrubbed at his hair and what he could reach on his back and shoulders, then paddled awkwardly around for a few minutes, occasionally reaching down with a foot to make sure he could still touch bottom and almost panicking the one time it wasn't there. He quickly paddled back in toward shore, and stayed crouching in the shallows.
Oghren came splashing by again, with much more enthusiasm than technique, and paused, dog-paddling to stay in place. "Hey. Not going in any deeper?"
Alistair shook his head, blushing a little in embarrassment. "Not unless I have to. I don't really swim well."
"Didn't you grow up in Redcliffe? How'd you live on something like Lake Calenhad and never learn to swim?" Oghren asked, sounding surprised. "Ancestors, I've learned how to swim and the only lake anywhere near Orzammar is full of lava."
Loghain spoke up from nearby, having swum closer without Alistair having noticed. "Doubtless because it was Lake Calenhad that Alistair grew up beside. The waters there are not exactly considered safe for swimming."
"Full of big nasty things with sharp teeth," Alistair agreed. "I know just enough swimming to stay alive if I fall in, and even that I didn't learn in the lake itself. Only fools, the ignorant and the desperate swim in that lake."
"Really?" Oghren said, sounding surprises, then frowned suspiciously. "This isn't some kind of fancy story like the schleets, is it?"
Alistair frowned, puzzled. "Schleets?"
Loghain laughed. "No, it's not like schleets. There's simply more things in Lake Calenhad than just fish, and many of them nasty enough to make a deep-stalker seem cuddly in comparison."
Alistair nodded agreement to that.
"Well, we should head back to camp; they should have our tents up by now," Loghain pointed out, and frowned at Oghren. "You and your group are overdue for a rest as it is."
Oghren readily agreed with that, and bellowed for his group to head back to shore.