2. The Soldier

The cavern's stale air was thick with the scents of sweat and blood. The air was a din of the clashes of metal on metal, metal on flesh, and the screams of the dying all joined in a cacophony that drowned out all words. It was a frenzy of survival and death, no politics outside the inevitable consensus of who killed whom first.

It was just the way Marnan Aeducan liked it.

"Prepare the rockslide!" Commander Blackstone barked out from somewhere behind her. Her war-axe cleaved in the skull of another genlock, and she spared a glance at him from under her steel helm as she yanked it out. He stood on a defensible outcropping ten paces back, his thick black beard matted with darkspawn blood.

In reaction to his order, a trumpet sounded: two long brays followed by a short. It echoed across the expansive cavern where the expeditionary force had made their attack. They had over a hundred darkspawn pushed up against a cliff face, the monsters fighting vainly against the best soldiers Orzammar had to offer.

"My Lady! Left!"

Reacting unthinkingly to that most trusted of voices, Marnan dove to her left, just in time to dodge the swing of a hurlock's blackened greatsword. The creature roared and spat, but Marnan wasted no time in introducing her axe to the back of its knees. It crumpled with a monstrous shriek, only to be silenced by Gorim's sword going into its eye.

Marnan nodded to her longtime right hand man and friend, and he nodded back. No need for words or gestures of gratitude when there were darkspawn to kill.

The dwarves tending the trap would be ready by now. Marnan shoved a genlock away, waiting for the signal.

"Fall back!" The Commander's voice shouted. "Back! By the Stone, where did that trumpeter go?!"

Marnan spared another look around, and cursed again as she saw the trumpeter's limp body thirty paces and a swarm of monsters away. Resolutely, she stamped on a genlock that was still twitching, and raised her axe so as to be better seen. "Free hands, to me! We must retrieve the trumpet!"

"Here, my Lady!" Gorim's voice responded immediately.

"My Lady!"

"Here!"

"Sounding off!"

"At your order, My Lady!"

No more voices responded, but a squad of six would do. She charged into the swarm of darkspawn that had overtaken the dwarven force's right arm, trusting her men to be at her back. She could hear them behind her, cutting a swath of destruction as they became a V-shaped prong with her at the apex. The monsters roared and charged at her, but she did not fear them.

This was her purpose, her true honor: to face the darkspawn and cut them down.

At last, the squad reached the fallen trumpeter. The rumbling sound was positively ominous now, the floors shaking with it.

Without hesitation, she raised the bloody trumpet to her lips and blew three wild, short clips. Immediately, the dwarven lines began to pull back. She could practically feel the collective sigh of relief at the order, but she smiled. The line had not broken during the wait. She was damn proud of her city's warriors.

No sooner had they vacated the battlefield than did a rumbling tumble of rocks roll over it, pouring out of a hidden crevice the dwarves had commandeered and crushing all in its path. Darkspawn roared and were silenced by the stones, the swarm cut easily in half.

Commander Blackstone raised his sword. "Back in, men! We must take the thaig!"

Those nearby roared in agreement, and Marnan smiled as she blew the order's corresponding cadence on the trumpet. The line surged back forward, sweeping over the darkspawn with new energy.

Marnan pulled back from the front lines, because that was nowhere for a signal trumpet to be. She headed over to where the Commander and his defenders held their position, out of the fighting for the moment. Secretly, she hoped that one of them would offer to take the trumpet.

Wait, why secret? This was the army, not the Assembly! There was no need to mince words here. "Someone take this so I can get back to killing!"

Commander Blackstone laughed. "Always eager for sport, My Lady! It is good to have you along, as always."

"It is good to be along… thus why I am here. Now really. Someone take this."

One of the Commander's escort laughed and obediently took the thing. He attempted to wipe the blood off, only for his equally-gory gauntlet to make things worse.

"Should have been born Warrior Caste, I always say," Commander Blackstone said.

"Be mindful of who you're speaking to," Gorim's voice piped up behind her.

"It's all right, Gorim." She cast him a smile from under her helm. "Would that I had been. I find myself much more suited to this than my own caste's particular brand of sport."

"Of that, I have no doubt," the Commander said, raising his sword in a strange sort of toast. He cast out over the fighting, and Marnan was pleased to note that it seemed to be dying down. The last of the darkspawn were being routed, the thaig nearly won.

"A strong success to bring home," Commander Blackstone declared, and then something unexpected happened.

The darkspawn got reinforcements.

They swarmed from behind the dwarves, pouring into the chamber from multiple exits to flank the dwarven line. Marnan only realized what was happening when a genlock charged into her from behind, biting and clawing at her armored form.

She kicked it off with some difficulty, only for the thing to latch onto her helm. Its claws reached into the helm, trying to pry out her eyes. She hastily undid her chinstrap and shoved the helm off, just so she could dash the thing's head against the stones.

It took four blows before it went limp. Marnon paused to catch her breath, assessing the situation through a curtain of red, shoulder-length hair. The dwarven force was completely outnumbered and scattered, the black spread of darkspawn thick throughout the chamber, only occasionally broken up but a cluster of shiny dwarf fighters.

"My Lady!" Gorim panted, a new red line across his face where a sword had struck. "They flanked us!"

"Indeed," she agreed. "We've been outmaneuvered by mindless monsters… how is that even possible?"

"It's not. Not unless something is controlling them."

She shook her head in disbelief. They needed to retreat and reassess, she realized. The thaig was lost, and there was no point losing any more perfectly good warriors on a lost battle. She looked around for the Commander, hoping he would agree…

…only to find him in the fight of his life with a creature four times his size. An ogre.

The Commander's defenders were a bloody pile on the cavern floor, so the Commander stood alone against the beast. It was huge, and horned, and far more fearsome than anything Marnan had ever encountered in the Deep Roads. It let out a monstrous bellow, and answering cries could be heard among the swarm.

The Commander stood his ground, much to his honor. He dodged a slam that might have crushed him, swiping his sword along the back of the thing's knees.

The ogre barely seemed to notice the injury, whirling around to swipe a heavy arm at the Commander. The dwarf was caught in it this time, and thrown farther than could possibly have been healthy.

"Commander Blackstone!" Marnan cried, and dove in to take on the great beast herself. She thought she heard Gorim yell something behind her—it sounded like a protest, but she couldn't worry about that.

She swung her axe right into the darkspawn's exposed back—it wasn't hard to miss, on a monster that big. The blade buried in near the spine, causing the monster to roar and spin back around. Marnan, for her part, held onto her axe, which was solidly stuck in the thing's thick hide. Thus when the ogre whirled, so did she, dangling from her weapon like an armor-plated puppet.

The ogre's arms tried to reach around the grab her, but it couldn't seem to get to her. She smiled and braced herself against the monster, then surged upward. Daringly, she whipped a hand up and climbed, reaching one of the beast's horns. It whipped its head around and roared, but she clung on with the strength and tenacity of one born of the stone.

Her axe was left in its lower back, unfortunately, and she dared not loose her grip enough to retrieve it.

Instead, there was that familiar voice again. "My Lady! Catch!"

She looked up through the wild red mess that her un-helmed hair had become, and saw Gorim charging for her. He raised his own sword and let it loose, and it soared through the air between them.

She risked releasing a hand and lunged up, catching the sword blade-down in midair. Then, bracing against the back of the ogre's skull with her knees, she dared to grip the weapon with both hands, and brought it down swiftly and brutally into the darkspawn's eye. It roared in pain, and time seemed to slow down as it tumbled.

She released her hold on the beast as it fell, falling less-than-gracefully from the thing's back. Gorim was there to catch her, saving her from too much injury, helmetless as she was.

"My Lady, the Commander…"

Abruptly, she recalled the leader of their force, and broke away from Gorim's grip to hurry toward the broken form not far off. The battlefield was wet and slippery with gore, so she slipped slightly as she threw herself down beside him.

"….Lady… Aeducan…"

He was still alive, thank the Stone.

"Commander, we must retreat. The darkspawn… they flanked us."

"Call it… My Lady…" The brave Commander's eyes blinked blearily up at her, the light slowly fading from them. His breath was wheezy, and it looked like part of his chestplate had caved in. She was not so naïve as to think that he could be saved from this.

"You are very courageous, Commander Blackstone. I will be sure to tell your family of the honor you earned them here."

His smile was weak, but warm. "That is… all I can… ask… My Lady…" His last wheezing breath slipped out from his lips, and Marnan bowed her head in a moment of solemnity.

It couldn't last long, though, for other darkspawn were beginning to amass. Only the swords of Gorim and other brave warriors had provided her with even this respite.

Decisively, Marnan stood. "Fall back! Retreat into the tunnels! Where is that blasted trumpet?!"

Someone—a dark-skinned dwarf with a blond beard poking through his helmet, managed to find the horn in the gore. He immediately started blowing out the retreat cadence. Marnan watched as what was left of the dwarven line surged back, pushing against the darkspawn with enough force to break through. She raised her hand and pointed to the exit tunnel nearest the bulk of the line, and the survivors surged into it.

Marnan cast one last look over the battlefield: the rockslide, the ogre corpse, her fallen brethren. As she did, she felt pride and sadness, courage and uncertainty. This battle was lost, but it had been fought well, and there would be more to come. There were always more battles to come, and Marnan fully intended to be a part of them.

That was, provided her father let her continue to risk herself in this kind of battles, rather than the more complex (but just as deadly) kind that most of the nobility favored.

Darkspawn, she could handle with honor and courage. It was the prospect of facing the Assembly about this that terrified her.