He didn't hesitate.
Garrett had planned what to do in case of a defeat. Carver might not like the idea, but Garrett had learnt father's lesson's well. You do not plan for victory, you plan for survival, you never go complacent, that's when you're caught, you don't take unneeded risks, you only have one life, friends and allies come and go, but you only have one family.
Of course it was difficult to plan such a thing since a battle was so unpredictable, but the important thing was to get Carver and himself to safety.
And there was safety in numbers.
As such he strode back away from the militia, his waving hands finally drawing the attention of the two captains of the archer detachment and making them reluctantly leave their men to meet him in the middle of the path.
Coming to a stop, Garret looked from left to right. The man to the left was giving him a scornful look, but the one to the right at least seemed neutral to him, if understandably stressed. Garrett didn't waste much time contemplating them though, there was precious little time. "Sers, we are about to lose." The man to the left growled something, but Garrett was faster. "You can both see it, soon the Darkspawn will have overwhelmed the king and his men, at which point we will be next. The path up to the camp is narrow, as such if you can supply covering shots for the militia we can then form ranks there and stop any Darkspawn pursuers as you follow us." Garrett found a nervous worm in his gut and glanced over the two's shoulders, painfully aware how the time was ticking away. "Please, let's-"
"Are you mad?" The man to the left snarled, shaking his head. "We cannot flee from the enemy of the Maker! And leave our king on the field? The last of the Theirin blood! Are you mad! That's treason!"
"There's already been one treason today, no one will blame you for this." Garrett swiftly countered, trying to sound as diplomatic as he could. "Besides, the king is dead no matter what you do, you know this."
A slow shake of the man's head, voice low. "Militia...listen you little twerp, real Fereldians don't retreat, and they never leave their king to die! I've sworn an oath and I'll be dead before I break it!"
"Yes you will. So see reason and don't throw your life away." Garrett countered, throwing the so far silent man to the right a glance, since Garrett by now realised he was the only one worth arguing with.
The man to the left stepped closer, his eyes narrowed, hands clenched tight to his sides as he hissed the words. "You know nothing of honour..."
And with that, he walked away, striding purposefully back to the ranks of his men, not looking back. Honour is for those that can afford it... Sighing Garrett turned to the other captain.
Who had a soft look on his face, the tiniest of smiles as he spoke. "I hate to say it after hearing that drivel, but...I can't break my oath either." Oh for crying out loud... ""'ve fought too long with our king to leave him to his fate...but...thank you for the offer." A tiny chuckle. "I'll tell the Maker of it, I hope..."
That's that, then. There was no more time to argue. Garrett reached out and shook the man's hand and offered a short. "Maker be with you." Then he whirled about and marched back to the men. No help from the archers, that'll make the climb more diffi-
A roar made him turn mid-stride, eyes widening as he saw two Ogres crash up through the slope, breaking through a palisade as if it was nothing but grass. Arrows were loosed at the creatures, but rather than them and the sharpened stakes protecting the archers funnelling the creatures down the centre it just enraged them, driving them straight towards the archers in great strides, the arrows resembling nothing but pinpricks on them as they pounded up the muddy slope.
Move, move, move! Turning back, Garrett gestured at the small path winding up the rocky outcrop atop which the royal camp lay, he found his voice rising in panic. "Up the path, now!"
"What? But we haven't even fought!" Carver interjected, eyes wide in shock. Not now! Garrett scowled at his brother...and his mouth obediently slammed shut
The man next to him, Garrett wasn't sure who he was since he only remembered potential threats and aids for the family back in Lothering, the rest were unimportant, was not so easily deterred though, waving his torch dangerously close to the face of the man behind him as he exclaimed. "What! We can't! If we run, Lothering will fall! Our families are there!"
Many shouted out their agreements, though their eyes were already wide with fright.
Another roar made Garrett turn back...and flinch as he saw the Ogre rushing the leftmost detachment stumble with pain, then fall forward, impaling itself on half a dozen stakes. The victory was short-lived though, as Genlocks and Hurlocks following started climbing it, using the corpse as a bridge to reach the archers now furiously shooting at the creatures to stop them from reaching them. It was clearly a losing battle...
To the right, the Fereldians had even less luck. The Ogre going for them slapped aside a dozen stakes as with a growl it rushed up...only to howl as the captain stepped forth and thrust his sword into its groin. The creature staggered...then grabbed the man struggling to free his weapon and crushed him in its claws before falling sideways, crushing another two men that weren't swift enough to step aside. Before the shock of the losses had even settled in, a swarm of Genlocks followed, the shrieking creatures throwing themselves at the shaken soldiers in a storm of flashing blades and grins of blood-lust.
"Lothering will fall either way! Run now and you may get your families out of there!" Garrett shouted, whirling back to face the men. "Now move!"
They hesitated.
No time!
Stepping forward, Garrett slammed his shield into the face of the man with the torch, making him drop it in a howl of pain and surprise. "MOVE!"
They moved.
Grabbing the back of Carver's shirt, Garrett hoisted the man to the front of the running men, forcing his brother to run or be knocked over while at the same time ensuring his shield was covering the frightfully weak armour of the man's back.
And not a second too soon as an arrow barely whizzed past the wooden protection the moment the group reached the foot of the narrow path leading up to the camp, a second whizzing...and then a moan as a man in the back fell over, clutching at a wooden shaft in his back. Two men were already moving to support him, making Garrett shout. "Leave him! We have to run!"
They didn't listen, grabbing him they hoisted him to his feet and started to run with him between them, a difficult task when the path was barely two man broad, and they were already lagging behind...
Maybe they'll distract the pursuers. Garrett hoped so, and worriedly turned his gaze further up...and regretted doing so the moment he saw the large number of Genlocks sport bows that had begun to pelt their position even as their twisted brethren completed the slaughter of the now surrounded archers.
Garret's gaze moved past the immediate threat...and he saw nothing but a frothing sea of Darkspawn, whatever humans were left impossible to spot.
They're so many...
Then an arrow whizzed past his face, making him gasp as it drew a red line across his cheek.
Don't get complacent, survive, you only have one life, as do your family members... The thought of the lesson made his legs pump faster, pushing Carver to run faster up the path, to just get away.
Behind him there was a gasp, then a cry as the man struck fell off the path and over the cliff, another simply gurgled as he died, the sound nearly lost in the sounds of arrows bouncing of the cliff the path was following ever upwards.
And then they reached the top.
Stumbling to a stop in surprise, Garrett looked about the colourful tents with wide eyes. As part of the militia he had never been up in this part of the camp, but he figured that going to the left and then left again would bring the group to the bridge they would have to cross, once over they would have to make for-
"Stop, in the name of the Maker!" Garrett's head snapped round, catching sight of a brunette in the robes of the Chantry coming towards them with her hands stretched out before her, though her words were calm, her big eyes betrayed her fear. "We have wounded in the camp!" She gestured behind herself even as she continued to move closer. "Please! You must take them with you and protect them!"
"There's no time!" Garret shouted back, gesturing at the path with his sword even as he gasped for breath. "They're right behind us! If you value your life you'll come with us!"
The woman's eyes flashed, her outstretched hands becoming more firm as the gestured at them to stop. "The Maker sees you, fools! An act of compassion will be remembered for eternity, as will one of selfishness! Save these poor souls or be forever condemned!"
"Then I'll be condemned." Garrett grimly retorted. If the Maker is there he will understand, that family comes before all, especially those already doomed. Still holding onto Carver he pushed the man to turn to the left stumbling down an old cobbled path where the colourful pavilions of the now dead nobles struggled under the growing rainstorm.
Looking back he saw the majority of the remaining men running with him...and half a dozen shaking their heads as they grimly turned towards the path they had come from, weapons at the ready as the priest began reciting an oath.
Idiots.
Focusing on his own path, Garrett pushed Carver under a broken old archway of stone, relief flooding him as he saw the bridge ahead of them. "There, with me!"
Behind him there was cries, roars...and then the sound of steel striking steel and the cry of a man being wounded as well as the shriek of a Genlock.
They're right behind us!
Releasing Carver, Garrett turned the shield to cover the man's face and upper torso as they ran over the bridge, all of the soldiers atop it now lying dead, either scorched by fireballs or struck by arrows, arrows still raining over the bridge...
One arrow struck the shield just where Carver's face was, the impact too weak to penetrate the wood, making the missile drop to the floor. Thank the Maker I put-
Pain!
Garret stumbled, an arrow stuck in his shoulder, though the pain was just the throbbing of a bruise, the arrow apparently having punched through the armour but not the gambeson underneath.
Another man was not so lucky, his leather armour leaving a scrawny arm bare...which was now covered with blood as he breathed in short gasps while clutching at it while running...only for another arrow to strike him in the calf and send him to the floor with a loud cry.
This time, no one turned to help.
Then Garrett and Carver both stumbled as the bridge visibly shook, making an icy spike of fear shoot down Garrett's spine. The cries and the smell struck him a second later...and a glance back made him nearly retch before he had the sense to turn back to his running. The group had been reduced to a paltry eight, the rest were scorched, blown apart or still writhing in agony from the potent fireball that had struck their nearly unarmoured bodies and scorched their flesh of their bones.
To their left, the tower of Ishal still glowed brightly at the top, but Garrett saw no guards outside the gates, and even if there were, how long could a paltry few endure a siege while in a ruin without any supplies? Get Bethany and mother, leave, that's the plan, go!
As such, Garrett continued to run forward, gesturing the others onwards.
A load roar made them all stop though.
Turning his head in confusion, Garrett looked to the top of the tower...and saw the roof being swept away, pieces raining down, as a dragon mounted it. Staring in shock, he saw the creature breath a gout of flame into the tower, then reach down with its claws for something...
Is that the Archdemon? Pictures of it suggests it to be covered with more horns...a 'regular' dragon? Why here? Garrett's mind couldn't help but analyse the sight, if only to keep itself busy as he stared at the monster that was only the stuff of legends.
Reaching back, clutching something in each claw, the dragon took flight, screeching out what almost seemed an amused laugh as it effortlessly flew away, dodging a few fireballs hurled from the general direction of the Darkspawn forces with enviable grace.
"D-did you see that!" Someone muttered, too stunned to shout out.
That awakened Garrett making him gesture forward as he shouted. "No time for that! Keep moving or be left behind!"
8
8
8
They had been running for days.
Garrett couldn't really think any more, there was not enough energy for it, he just kept moving, kept them moving...in fact he wasn't sure how many days had passed since the battle...the forest of the Korcari wilds made judging time difficult when you couldn't stop to take stock...hell, he wasn't even sure where they were.
We have to lose them, get our bearings, get back to Lothering...
The exhausted thought reached his mind, an imperative he had repeated to himself so many times before, using it to drive himself forward.
The group had been hounded every step of the way, wolves scenting blood came at them, giant spiders preyed on their panicked stumbling, and the Darkspawn, gleefully enjoying it, kept hunting the fractured reminders of the army.
They had stumbled upon other survivors a few times, men and women who hadn't said a word, simply joined them in their more and more desperate flight...only to slowly be whittled down as wolves came at them in the night or spiders swarmed the odd person getting stuck in their webs. The worst were the Genlocks, a single arrow suddenly whizzing through the trees to send someone howling to the ground...and then a frantic fleeing, constantly with the pained screams of the wounded soldier hounding them as the Genlocks pounced on him.
And now, when the attacks had gotten less frequent, the Shrieks had been unleashed. Garrett had never seen one yet, he had only heard them in the distance, those bone-chilling sounds that made you quake, that kept going as they hunted their prey...then the pained screams of someone caught, screams that lingered for so long...
Don't think about it...
Garrett moved a gauntleted hand over his face, it felt raw, the sweat covering it stinging like mad.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about it, not now when he had heard it just recently...and close...
They'll kill us, they'll catch up with us and kill us!
He felt the panic rising, there was no time to plan, to formulate a strategy, it was only running, blindly trusting hope! It was madness! A quick glance told Garrett the other two were doing no better. Carver was breathing as heavily as him, the man clearly on the brink of exhaustion, the way he glared at everything telling Garrett his brother's nerves were on edge as well.
The other man was even worse. Actually. If Garrett remembered correctly he was the militiaman Garrett had struck with his shield back at Ostagar ...and by now he was trembling with exhaustion, dark rings under his eyes and his skin sickly pale as the flight drained all energy out of him.
He won't make it.
The thought struck Garrett, clear as day...and the man repeated it himself a moment later, his words coming out in pained gasps. "I won't...Maker...I'm going to die...they're right behind us now...they're going to catch us...and kill...me!"
Behind them there was a shriek, painful in its nearness, making Garrett grit his teeth as the sound bore into his limbs, turning them to lead. They're so close...they're going to continue to hound us until they take us...as with the others. I have to lose them, get back to Lothering, get Bethany and mother out...
He glanced at the man between him and Carver, grimacing at himself as he remembered his father's lesson. Survival is everything, the family above all other...
He didn't hesitate.
Drawing his dagger, Garrett stabbed the man in the hip.
He went down with a cry, clutching at the wound in shock as he rolled around on the ground, staring at the wound in wide-eyed disbelief.
Carver slowed down and turned in surprise...only for Garrett to grab him by the shoulder and push forward, his voice a hiss. "Keep moving! We have to keep moving!"
"Wha...how did...?" Carver glanced down at Garrett's bloodied dagger, his eyes widening. "Brother...you didn't...!"
"Yes, I did." Garrett shoved the man forward as hard as he could. "Now keep moving!"
Carver kept running, but his eyes flashed with hatred. "You monster! I can't believe you would...Tim's our friend!"
"Blood before friends, if you were his brother he should have done the same to me." Garrett snapped, finding himself gasping as his exhausted lungs struggled to speak while he was running. "Now run!"
They ran.
And behind them Tim's screams hounded them as the Shrieks found him...
8
8
8
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for her eager help.