Notes: Thank you for continuing to read this story.
Here we have another battle chapter, at least in the second half.
Song: Blind Guardian – "Prophecies," slightly adapted
Chapter 66: Shadows Rise in a Storm
After Cassandra's trusted Seekers came to Kirkwall to oversee the Grand Cleric's Suprema, very few of its enforcers actually went to the doors of suspected heretics to make arrests. As 9:38 Dragon progressed, the religious court tried only seven more people and convicted only five of them. Caitlyn did not personally attend these trials or executions; she did not want to give the impression that she was involved with this, but she heard from witnesses to the trials that the convictions did appear fair. The two acquittals apparently occurred because Cassandra's people argued that the evidence was weak.
Caitlyn did not want to tell Anders "I told you so." It was petty, and if she were entirely honest, she was not sure just yet that the coast was clear. For now, Cassandra's trusted people were watching over the Suprema. But they could be recalled, or something else could change. She hoped that after the war ended, she would be able to persuade the Grand Cleric to disband it anyway.
However, one thing did change for the better: Anders' fear and resentment notably lessened. Caitlyn was grateful for that. She had never wanted him to feel personally threatened by anything that either she or her allies did, and she had been worried that the cool spell in their marriage would become permanent. Instead, he returned more to his usual self: tense about the war, eager to help the Free Mages learn to live normal lives, and quite affectionate with her and the children.
That summer, Carver paid an unexpected visit to the family. He carried a large parcel of documents from the Warden-Commander at Vigil's Keep: plans for war machines of the sort that the Amaranthine castle had. That surprised Caitlyn.
"Are the Grey Wardens of Ferelden getting involved in the war?" she asked hopefully after he visited the Keep to deliver the documents to his sister.
Carver chuckled. "No, Lady Cousland is doing this in the capacity of Arlessa of Amaranthine, a representative of an allied nation."
"But you are a Grey Warden."
He shrugged. "It's dubious, all right? I'm not here as a Warden, so don't go around saying I am. She's not happy with Weisshaupt or the Orlesians and doesn't want trouble. She says in this mission, I'm a messenger for Ferelden—and I'm visiting my family on personal leave." He tapped his breastplate, which bore the heraldry of the Fereldan Crown since the Blight, a wyvern and a mabari combatant, to represent Mac Tir and Theirin. "No griffons."
Caitlyn spread the plans over her war table in the Viscountess's Keep, frowning in contemplation as she studied the designs. "I have some ballistae like this at the Bone Pit Mine," she said slowly. "They chased off a High Dragon once. Putting them atop the city walls would help us in a land siege, certainly." She picked up another large sheet of parchment and spread it over that one. "Trebuchets have greater reach."
"Yes, she thinks that these might be able to lob stones at ships if they're mounted at the Gallows... or possibly even at the top of the Keep."
Caitlyn rolled up the big parchments. "I'll have some engineers study this. We'll want to be very certain of the range of these things so that we don't waste projectiles, but it does seem that they can hurl stones—or bolts—farther than most mages could."
Anders spoke up. "I wasn't at Vigil's Keep for the siege—she took me to the lair of the Architect and Mother instead—but the castle was in good shape when we returned."
"I wonder... how portable do you think they are, Carver?"
"The ballistae are portable. The trebuchets, not very. They can be built with wheels and platforms, but they'll need to be a lot smaller in that case."
"So not so great for use in open battle, but great for breaking an enemy fortress—and for defense of Kirkwall itself." Caitlyn pondered it. "Maybe we should just reinforce Kirkwall and make the enemy break against our walls, whittling themselves away fruitlessly over time."
"We'll probably have to go on offense at some point," Anders cautioned.
"We need to be sure we're able to crush them when we do. Let them waste forces and equipment in failed attacks, not us." Caitlyn led the small group out of the war room, locking the door behind her. "For now, I think protecting the city against an attack is our best strategy. Kirkwall is extremely vulnerable." She scowled in anger at the thought. "Year after year of corrupt or ineffectual Viscounts spending money on anything but defense. The walls have no war equipment like this. The harbor is defenseless except for the mages at the Gallows and the former Qunari compound. We don't even have a militia. We have a City Guard that's chartered to handle domestic crime. I am considering turning my non-magical vigilantes into Kirkwall's militia."
"Aveline would approve," Anders remarked. "She never liked vigilantes."
"They served their purpose as that, but we're at war. They volunteered to take up arms for me; they should obviously be the core of a militia. And Kirkwall rather needs one."
"Lady Cousland would agree with you," Carver said. "She's come to see things rather from Loghain's point of view when it comes to national defense."
"She's not wrong. Loghain made the Fereldan Army what it is today," Caitlyn said, "and it's a deterrent against another invasion. Kirkwall has not had such a deterrent until now, and our history shows it."
Carver insisted on staying at the Hawke manor in Hightown instead of the Keep. Leandra wanted to host a welcome dinner there, but Caitlyn argued her down by pointing out that the Keep kitchens would be able to handle it better—and that Leandra could have more time to spend with her son instead of helping the maid prepare dinner. That argument proved persuasive.
Carver had no objection to his sister and brother-in-law's friends being invited, so it proved a large crowd that evening: him, Leandra, Caitlyn, Anders, their children, their five close friends, Donnic, Gamlen, Charade—and one guest that no one expected except those who lived at the Hightown estate.
"What's he doing here?" Anders growled under his breath as Cullen, the former Knight-Captain, entered the Keep's family rooms sheepishly.
Charade did not hear his question, but she did see his face. She quickly interceded. "Cullen and I are an item, Anders. I hope you don't mind that he's here. I know I should have asked in advance."
Caitlyn's jaw nearly dropped. When did this happen? she thought, shocked. As she spared a glance at her husband, she realized Anders was astonished too.
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission?" he retorted. Caitlyn stifled a groan at this borderline rudeness.
But Charade took it in stride. "I honestly thought you knew. He's on one of your councils."
"The War Council," Caitlyn finally spoke up, "but it hasn't met in a while, and I don't suppose he would have brought up his personal business there."
Cullen shook his head. "I would have in private after the next Council meeting, but we didn't start seeing each other until after the last one."
"Well," Caitlyn said stoutly, "this surprise is another reason it's good we're holding this dinner in the Keep: plenty of food for all."
The friends—and Cullen—left the family to a private sitting room before dinner, giving them time to catch up with Carver.
"Oh, Mother, you must be so disappointed," Carver snarked. "You so wanted one of us to be a proper 'noble heir' that you could match."
Leandra smiled mildly. "Ser Cullen is a fine young man of noble bearing, a knight, even if he is no longer officially a Templar," she said. "He is perfectly suitable for the heir of the Amell family."
"Oh, no doubt he's far more suitable than an apostate," Anders said snidely.
Shame filled Leandra's face. "I meant no offense, Anders. I married an apostate myself. Besides, you and Caitlyn have changed expectations already!"
"Don't be like that," Caitlyn added, putting a hand on his forearm to calm him down. "I was an apostate too. And you are a Grey Warden, one of the first that the Hero of Ferelden recruited, a veteran of Amaranthine, and the slayer of the Architect. You were a bigger catch than I was before I became Champion."
"Thank you, love." He gave her a smile, feeling warm toward her for this spirited defense, but it rapidly faded as Cullen entered his thoughts again. "Still, it was just two years ago that I couldn't speak to the prick without wanting to hex him. Now I'll have to call him my cousin by marriage?"
"Maker!" Charade exclaimed. "Not yet, Anders! We just got together."
"It sounds like your aunt has already decided it," he said.
"I love my aunt, but it's not her decision to make," she said firmly. "Cullen and I are fond of each other. That's all it is so far."
However, as she spoke the words, Caitlyn detected a blush on her face, indicating that, perhaps, that was not entirely true. She exchanged a quick look with her husband, hoping to have a private talk with Charade soon.
That opportunity came after dinner. Mal retreated to his room to read, and Jo Beth dozed off in her mother's arms, blessedly giving her parents a moment of rest. Caitlyn, Aveline, Merrill, Isabela, and Anders remained up with Charade after the others went to their rooms or homes.
"This looks like it's meant for women," Aveline said pointedly to Anders.
Isabela chuckled. "Nah, Anders is one of the girls, right?"
He scowled. "I'll leave if my presence is not wanted."
"You don't have to," Caitlyn said at once.
He shook his head. "No, it's clear enough that you ladies are going to talk with her about her Templar. In detail. Dinner was wonderful; I don't need to lose it by hearing all that." He paused, then turned to Charade. "Though if he hurt you, let me know."
"So you can hex him?" Aveline said, not impressed.
"He didn't hurt me," Charade said dismissively, "and if he had, and I'd wanted to make something of it, I'm quite capable of doing it myself."
"Why would he have hurt you?" Merrill asked ingenuously. "He likes you."
"It happens sometimes unintentionally when a woman has sex with a man for the first time," Isabela said. She glowered. "Or intentionally, but in that case, he doesn't care about her."
"Oh," Merrill said quietly, comprehending. "That's true." She turned to Caitlyn. "Did your first time hurt?"
Caitlyn grimaced at the memory. "Yes, it did," she admitted. "It was extremely painful, and I bled a little." She shot Anders an apologetic look.
"With Anders?" Aveline asked. Caitlyn nodded. "Then it sounds like by his own standards, someone should beat him up," she said pointedly.
Anders sighed, facing the ground.
"Anders cast a healing spell a minute or two, um, in," Caitlyn said awkwardly, noting the amused gleam in Isabela's eyes at that phrasing, "so the pain didn't last too long."
Charade was blushing fiery red. "He didn't hurt me. He wasn't my first."
Isabela beamed. "That's my girl."
Anders groaned. "Right. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid hearing."
"You chose to stay," Aveline said.
"You lived in Tantervale, right?" Isabela was still focused on Charade's past. "Home of the false Divine, a fancy chantry filled with bells, and street after street of dour, joyless, pious zealots. Are they secretly beasts in bed?"
"You don't know the answer to that yourself? I'm disappointed in you."
The meaning of Charade's riposte hit them all at once. Caitlyn smothered a grin. Aveline was unable to smother her own. It was clear that Charade had meant it in fun, and Isabela was a good sport about it, laughing along.
"You got me there," she admitted. "It is an oversight on my part. But my business never took me that far up the Minanter. Would it be worth the trip?" she added with a wink to Charade.
"If you limit your 'business' to the women. Not worth it for the men."
"Oh, you are a woman after my own heart," the pirate captain said. "That's no surprise, though. Men are good for one thing, women for six."
"Anders is good for more than one thing," Caitlyn put in immediately.
"Most men," Isabela amended. She turned to Charade. "If the Templar won't go down on you, dump him."
A disgusted grunt that sounded uncannily like Cassandra Pentaghast's escaped Anders at this visual. "Did not need that image," he muttered.
"I'll say it again—" Aveline began.
"I agree with him," Caitlyn interrupted, though she was smiling. "I have to look at the man when I have a War Council meeting."
Charade laughed. "I don't think he would want me to share dirty details with anyone else anyway. No offense. He's a private man."
"Ah, pity," Isabela mourned. "Oh well."
Carver's visit was unfortunately brief. He soon had to return to Ferelden. But by the time he left, Caitlyn had commissioned dwarven engineers—the same ones who had provided the "deepstalker" ballistae at the mine—to construct the war machines. She had an idea for enhancing their attacks: applying impact runes to the projectiles.
The idea of improving Kirkwall's defenses gave Caitlyn additional ideas, which she ran past Anders the night that Carver left.
"I don't like the fact that the mages wear robes made almost entirely of cloth," she said. "And I include myself, because I've mostly worn mere heavy clothes too when I needed to fight. I know it requires heavy arms training to have the strength to wear plate, but why don't we wear leathers?"
"I assume it's because Templars in the Circle didn't want mages to have decent defenses. Couldn't let us think we had a chance of defeating them and escaping!" he said bitterly. "Cloth can be enchanted, but so can leather, which obviously has more inherent strength. My coats have a lot of leather, though."
"I like your coats," she said with a secret smile meant only for his eyes.
"I know you do." He returned that smile.
Mal spoke up. "I think you should have a set of leathers, Mother," he said. "It could have runes on it as part of the design. They would glow. It would look strong and magical."
"You're right," she said to her son, impressed with the idea and surprised that she had never thought of it herself. "That's an excellent idea, Mal. Leather provides better defense, but glowing runes would add to that and remind everyone that I am a mage."
"So you're going to have a set of armor made for yourself?" Anders said. His gaze became dreamy as he contemplated the image of his wife in that.
"Yes," she said, settling upon the idea at once. "And I'm going to require it of the Free Mage soldiers too. We're not cowed Circle mages wearing what Templars tell us to wear for their own purposes. We're an army."
Caitlyn's armor was fitted, crafted, and delivered comparatively quickly. Anders watched her admiringly as she tried it on and even more admiringly as she examined her fine new armor in a tall mirror: black drakeskin with red enameled details and white-and-gold glowing defense runes. On the breastplate were three sigils, the Hawke family on the left, the clenched spellcasting fist of the Free Mages on the right, and the heraldry of Kirkwall centered and larger than the other two.
There was another piece of the ensemble as well, not meant for battle but for impressive public appearances: a dark red cape to be draped over one shoulder, connected across her breastplate and under the opposite arm by a silverite chain. It was made of heavy silk, which rippled as she moved.
"Wow," Anders gushed, eyes wide in admiration, lips upturned in a smile. "Do you have any idea how beautiful and powerful you look?"
She regarded him with a grin. "I can count on you to tell me."
His smile broadened. "I think my coats look roguish, but if more mages saw this, they'd never want to wear dowdy, strange-looking Circle robes again."
"They are rather odd. And I thought of something else. We don't need to have free mages going about in Kirkwall dressed as if they were still in the Circles. It sends a bad message. I think we should call an assembly at the Gallows soon to tell them that they must be fitted for armor if they're fighting."
At the assembly, Caitlyn's new armor earned quite a bit of admiration and envy. Encouraged, she moved on to her new order.
"You don't have to admire this armor from a distance," she declared. "In fact, if you want to be in the army, you must be fitted for your own armor. Every soldier and army Healer will be fitted for armor in leather, splint mail, or chain mail. It will be enchanted and runed, just as magically protected as your robes have been, but it'll be made of inherently sturdier materials." She paused, then added, "And if you can wear heavy plate without exhaustion, you may request that. You'll be tested in an existing set to ensure you actually can fight in it. But no more robes. They are simply not sufficient protection in battle."
Most of the gathered mages were entranced by her drakeskin armor. But a few of them grew restless and dissatisfied with the order that they would have to wear armor too, with no choice except for the type.
"Your Grace, mages have always worn robes," objected a former Senior Enchanter of Kirkwall. "It's part of showing that we are mages."
"Circle mages have always worn robes," she said. "Those of us who lived outside them did not." She gazed evenly and pointedly at him. "And yes, it was about showing that you are mages—so others could identify you as mages if you ever escaped, and to remind you in the Circles that you were subjects!" She paused, taking a breath. "I could even say that wearing Circle robes in public undermines the cause. We want others to stop associating us with Circles. Wearing robes could therefore be seen as a counter-revolutionary action." Her voice had grown hard.
Anders raised his eyebrows at her, surprised at that chilling language. A handful of mages in the crowd, including some who were not wearing robes, started muttering under their breath and eyeing her suspiciously.
"Sweetheart, you might want to walk that back," Anders murmured in her ear. "I understand your point, and I know you can't mean to have their clothing policed. But they may think you do."
Caitlyn scowled. She genuinely thought she was right. She also didn't want to publicly backtrack on the words that she had just said. It would look weak. But... perhaps Anders had a point. She considered what to say that would be a clarification rather than an about-face.
"I should clarify. If you don't feel comfortable wearing regular clothes, then wear robes. Make them unique, fashionable, quirky, functional, anything you like. In the Circle, you didn't even own the clothes on your backs. You do now! You own things; make them reflections of you, not of the Circle. That way you can stay with what you're familiar with, if you want, while also expressing your independence." She paused to add, "But in the army, things are different. Soldiers will be armored when we go to war." She regarded the assembled mages evenly, making it clear that there would be no further argument about it.
The armorers of Kirkwall had a lot of business after that, as several hundred mages commissioned fighting gear for themselves. A minor difficulty arose about who had to pay for it. Caitlyn felt that, since the mages' conflict had the support of official governments in two Marcher cities and Ferelden, and since the enemy would attack Kirkwall itself rather than only the Free Mages, the supplies they needed for battle should be paid for with taxes.
Ser Marlein Selbrech came to her after word got around to Hightown that Caitlyn was taking coin from the city treasury to pay for the armor.
"I don't have an issue with it myself," she said apologetically, "but there is dissatisfaction about it among other nobles."
Caitlyn scowled at the report. "Do they offer any reasonable alternatives, or are they just complaining for the sake of complaining?"
"They think the mages should have to pay for it themselves."
Caitlyn scoffed. "Rubbish! Kirkwall pays for the City Guard's armor and weapons. I don't see anyone objecting to that. These mages are defending this city from a declared enemy. And they pay taxes too while they live here."
"I said I agree," Ser Marlein repeated. "I just wanted you to know."
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. "I suppose they have forgotten about Threnhold paying for expensive parties out of the treasury, or Dumar cowering before Meredith and the Qunari instead of putting taxes to any good use."
"People have short memories, to be sure."
A dark thought crossed Caitlyn's mind. "An attack on the Free Mages is an attack on Kirkwall. That's likely to become literal one day. They'll learn then."
August Dragon 9:38, Tantervale.
Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven, Lord Chancellor Joffrey Orrick of Tantervale, and Elthina, the Orthodox Divine Fidelia I, sat in a war council with a new guest.
"This is Knight-Captain Denam," Orrick introduced. A Templar in armor with the Sword of Mercy in black against a blood-red field, the sigil of the rebel Templars, sat at the table.
"Ser," Elthina said graciously. "Welcome to our War Council. I understand that you have important information to share about red lyrium."
Sebastian avoided making eye contact with Denam. He knew about the Templars who used red lyrium instead of conventional. He had heard the dark stories out of Kirkwall that the dead Knight-Commander and several of her loyalists had used it and had been driven violently, dangerously mad.
"Lies and propaganda spread by the enemy," Elthina had assured him. "Do not let this trouble you, Sebastian. This is a gift to us from the Maker." He wanted to believe her. It was wrong to doubt her, he scolded himself. He tried to push all doubts and questions from his mind as Denam spoke.
"Thank you, Your Perfection," Denam said. "I am pleased to report that our armory has crafted many suits of armor with runes that allow a Red Templar—as we're calling ourselves—to shoot pellets of it at a target. Ser Samson has had the only one, since the late Ser Mettin's is in enemy hands—but no longer."
Sebastian spoke up. "I've heard of this. How does it work, though? I know elemental runes can supply essentially unlimited amounts of the element, but lyrium isn't an element."
"The runes just allow the lyrium to be shot, Your Highness. The armor binds with the Red Templar's body. Not permanently," he added at Sebastian's wide-eyed look of alarm. "The red lyrium comes from the Red Templar, not from the rune. This armor won't be of use to just anyone. It requires a Red Templar who has been using red lyrium for a while."
The red lyrium comes from the Red Templar, Sebastian thought in distaste. That sounds hideous. He took a breath and tried to rationalize it. But ordinary Templars require lyrium to perform many of their anti-magic abilities. This cannot be that different.
Denam directed his words to Elthina. "Your Perfection, I think we can put this to good use. Kirkwall is vulnerable from the sea. I hate to praise heretics, but effective tactics are effective tactics, and the Qunari sacked Kirkwall, even entering the Viscount's private sanctum, beginning from the harbor. We have heard that the apostate has placed war engines atop the city walls, but the sea—well, Waking Sea traffic must pass through Kirkwall or brave the storms. They can't have war equipment lined up there. They must keep it open for trade. We can send some warships to the harbor, with Red Templars aboard who can shoot red lyrium at the enemy while remaining safe behind their plate."
"What about that patrol they have with Highever?"
"We can fly the sunburst flag of the Chantry," Elthina said. "If the Red Templars stay below deck while the ships pass through, they will think our ships belong to the anti-divine Justinia. We have the right to use that symbol, in any case, as we are the true Chantry."
Joffrey Orrick spoke up. "I agree with Denam's strategy. Word is also that a lot of mages still reside at the old Circle building. If we take out the mages, that pathetic City Guard will be cut through like butter."
"And well-armored Red Templars can take out the mages."
Sebastian was nodding along, seeing it clearly in his mind. "Let's do it."
Kirkwall.
Caitlyn was holding a sleeping Jo Beth on her lap while filling out bills to pay for the war machines when a messenger from the Gallows burst into her office, accompanied by Anders and Aveline.
"Your Grace!" the woman exclaimed, eyes wide. "We're under attack!"
Caitlyn instantly rose from her chair, balancing the toddler even as Jo Beth woke up with a complaint. "Attack? Where? How?"
The messenger gasped for breath. "At the harbor! Five enemy ships engaging the Gallows. They have a lot of Templars aboard, and they're all shooting red pellets!"
"Red lyrium," Caitlyn said darkly, gazing at Anders and Aveline. "They're using it again." Something occurred to her. "How did they even get here? They shouldn't have been allowed through our patrol."
"They're flying the Chantry sunburst, Your Grace."
"False flags," Aveline said darkly. "They must have tricked the patrol."
Caitlyn noticed that her friend was already in her guard armor. "Aveline, have my new armor brought to me. I'm going to be in the family quarters, putting her in the nursery."
She and Anders hurried into the family wing. Mal burst from his room, distraught, as his parents hurried down the corridor. He had already heard.
"You have to help them!" he burst out, tears of fear welling in his eyes as he hugged his parents. "How did those ships sneak up on us?"
"They bore false flags," Anders said darkly. "They got past the patrol by trickery."
The young boy's face hardened. "Make them pay," he said in a tone of voice that was shockingly dark for a ten-year-old.
His sister toddled up to him. She turned around. "Pay," she repeated, her pretty almost-two-year-old face curdling in anger. She might not fully understand the cause, but she did understand that her brother was angry on their parents' behalf, so she shared that emotion herself.
Caitlyn exchanged a regretful look with Anders. They shouldn't have to think like this, she thought, anger flooding her at the fact that this war—these enemies—this world and its restrictions for mages, which they were having to fight with sweat and blood, had destroyed their son's sweet innocence and threatened their toddler daughter's already.
He returned the look of sorrow, though it rapidly shifted to anger in him too.
Aveline appeared bearing the drakeskin armor. Caitlyn pulled the pieces on over her clothes, letting her friend and her husband buckle her in. He was already wearing one of his leather coats. She grabbed a powerful staff as she left Mal and Jo Beth.
Giving Anders and Aveline dark looks, she hurried to the stables, where they all mounted horses. The City Guard and many of the newly formed militia, formerly vigilantes, followed after them on foot, running to keep up.
Caitlyn, Anders, and Aveline rode hard through the streets of Hightown, down the ramp to Lowtown, shouting to people to get out of the way. But word of the attack had spread quickly, and few people were milling about outside. As they reached the docks, Caitlyn saw the sails silhouetted in the distance.
The five ships were besieging the Gallows in very close combat. They had come merely yards from the causeway, well within range of the mages' spells.
Indeed, the mages were hitting the ships with spells. As Caitlyn, Anders, and Aveline reached the causeway and halted their mounts before they were close enough to be in the Red Templars' range, they saw numerous flame bursts and entropic clouds bloom from the mages' hands and staves. They struck the ships' sides.
But they did little damage. The ships were filled with Templars, who quickly put the spells out and even disabled mages with the Holy Smite if they got too close. All the while, they peppered the defending mages with red lyrium. Caitlyn gritted her teeth as she saw three mages launch ineffectual spells at the hull of one ship, then fall to the ground as red lyrium tore through their bodies. They were still wearing robes and not armor, she observed sourly.
Aveline was grimacing. "This is not good, Hawke," she said. "They can take our forces out, but I see very little damage done to them. If they whittle them down enough to come ashore, it is possible that they can swamp us."
Caitlyn did not like this assessment, but she could not argue with it. "Our mages are wasting their time doing it this way," she agreed. "An individual mage against an individual Templar might be a match. A Red Templar, hard to say. An individual mage's spellpower against a ship, though? Useless."
"They fight this way because it's the only way they have ever been taught how," Anders said, glowering in regret. Caitlyn knew that he was not angry with her for her negative judgment of their tactics. He was angry about the Circle system that had brought them to this point.
"That changes today," she said, an idea forming in her mind. "Aveline, how quickly can we get a pair of mobile ballistae here?"
"I can have some relocated from the walls. Fifteen minutes, maybe."
"I can buy you that." She examined the battle, cursing inwardly as another pair of mages fell to a Red Templar attack. "I'll rally and organize them."
Anders looked at her in alarm as Aveline rode off immediately. "You're going to ride down the causeway with the ships this close?"
Her gaze hardened in resolve. "Yes. What is the armor for? Not just to look pretty. And this is not just a grand heroic gesture. I have an idea."
She spurred her horse, raising her staff in the air as she shouted a war cry. Anders grimaced for her, putting up a magical shield over them both, hoping that the Red Templars simply could not target them accurately while they were in motion on horseback.
They did not reach the Gallows island unscathed. A few pellets did strike her, but the runed drakeskin deflected them, keeping the malignant substance from penetrating to her skin. She reached the entry to the Gallows and brought her horse to a halt as she rallied the mages with the sound of her voice.
"Free Mages!" she exclaimed so that they could all hear her. "You see where their Holy Smites are landing! Stay back from that!"
"You would have us retreat?" someone protested. "They're too close! They'll come ashore if we yield an inch!"
"No, they won't." She turned her horse around in a circle, inspecting the enemy attack. Five ships attacked the island at the point where the causeway from the mainland joined with the Gallows proper. The mages were, to their credit, spread out and defending against this attack on both the eastern and the western side. However, the power of the Templars' attacks, the Templars' closeness to their defense line, and the strength of the ships' hulls rendered their individual spells largely ineffective.
Then we don't use individual spells, she thought. We're not some disorganized rabble. We're an army. We fight like one.
One ship was closer to its nearest neighbor than the rest. Its heavy aftcastle bobbed dangerously close to the neighboring ship's hull. She pointed at that one. "Mages on the east side!" she shouted, raising her fist with her staff in her other hand. "Focus all your magic on one spot—the forecastle of that ship! One lightning bolt, all together, as powerful as you can make it!"
Anders' eyes grew wide as he understood what she intended. He was exceptional with lightning bolts, and he began the effort, gathering his mana, focusing the bolt that would soon erupt. Others joined him.
Caitlyn had read about this as a tactic that the Tevinter army was known to use against the Qunari. It was a novel approach south of Tevinter, and was difficult to get right. If too many mages landed their spells early or late, the impact of a single incredibly powerful burst of magic would be lost. It was a gamble—but Caitlyn was more than willing to take it. What they had been doing was not working at all.
Perhaps it was her and Anders' presence that helped rally the mages back from their demoralizing defense attempt. Perhaps the Maker was with them. Perhaps it was luck. But somehow, the mages defending the eastern side of the Gallows all launched their lightning bolts at the enemy ship's forecastle at the same time and place.
The bolt was far brighter than the spark a single mage could generate on their own. It was blinding, as lethal and destructive as natural lightning. The effort of seventy-odd mages working together, it struck the forecastle.
The wooden tower exploded in a shower of splinters and broken planks. The mages dashed for cover, shielding themselves from the debris with magical barriers.
The heavy warship was now off-balance, the aftcastle weighing it down with the forecastle now reduced to splinters. It teetered wildly, splashing waves over the sides of the Gallows platform. The Templars aboard panicked, the smarter among them quickly seeing that the ship was lost and shedding their heavy armor as fast as they could.
The mages cheered as the wounded ship careened into its neighbor, the ship that Caitlyn had observed as being too close to the first ship's aftcastle. Wood creaked agonizingly as two hulls slammed together and breached. The mages roared in triumph, seeing what their leader's strategy had just achieved.
The two doomed ships were rapidly sinking. Many of the Templars seemed too lost to red lyrium, or simply too slow, to get out of their armor in time. But others had already unbuckled it and were making for lifeboats—or simply diving into the sea.
Anders spoke up, rallying the mages on the eastern edge. "Don't let them swim away! Shoot them down!"
The eastern mages immediately began targeting the flailing Templars. This was a far easier fight than attacking them through their armor when they could return attacks of their own. Here, they had to protect small boats against easy capsizing—or swim for their lives.
But there were still three ships remaining. Caitlyn would not waste this chance. She raised her staff again. "You did this!" she shouted. "Your magic blew that forecastle to splinters!" She pointed at a third ship, located west of the Gallows. "Now let's sink that one! A fireball! Hit the starboard hull!"
The mages defending the western side began gathering their magic to launch one massive fireball. Unfortunately, the captain of this ship had learned from his fellow Templars' failure. He hurriedly turned the helm, trying to get the ship out of the mages' range.
Caitlyn saw what was happening and realized that the enemy captain's idea was going to succeed. She also saw several Red Templars going below deck. I don't like that one bit, she thought. They must have something down there that they intend to bring up. A ballista?
"No fireball!" she called out to the mages. "Force magic! Direct it at the sea! Kick up a wave! Bring the Storm Coast to the harbor of Kirkwall!"
The mages needed a moment to cancel their fire spells and start a different type of magic. A wave began building in the sea, a bulge above the sea surface at first, then cresting white as it barreled toward the ship.
Desperately, the captain turned the ship to the north to evade the worst of the wave. This movement brought it closer to Kirkwall's harbor.
Caitlyn was growing irritated. "Coward!" she roared at the captain out of sheer frustration, though it was unlikely he could hear her from this distance. She raised her staff, which crackled with flames. "You can't evade us forever!"
But as she faced the north, she saw a very welcome sight: Aveline was riding back, two heavy ballistae rolling on wagons behind her. She drew her sword to rally her forces as they galloped down the causeway, the ballistae pulled behind them, wheels clattering over stone.
Caitlyn watched as her general gave the order. She burst into a smile as the ballistae mechanisms twanged and a pair of sharp bolts shot from them, sinking into the ship's hull. The mages who had been fighting this ship cheered again.
"With me down the causeway!" she called to them. "Force spells! Cave it in! Sink that craven!" She spurred the horse and led the attack, the encouraged mages running after her and already readying their spells.
The injured ship was helpless. Aveline's soldiers were already readying a second set of bolts, and the archers among them were peppering the Templars with arrows and crossbow bolts as they attempted to abandon ship. Caitlyn's mages got in spell range, and she began the attack.
A punch of raw force struck the ragged edges of the hull breaches. They folded in further. The gushing currents of seawater flooded the ship. The army mages cast force spells of their own, caving in both breaches. The ship began to sink rapidly. The mages cheered, then—without requiring a command—began following the lead of Anders' mages in attacking the Templars who tried to save themselves by swimming.
Meanwhile, Anders' mages themselves had already picked off the survivors of the first two sunken ships. They were targeting a fourth ship.
"They're already half-mad on red lyrium!" he shouted derisively, prompting the mages with him to jeer in contempt too. "Finish the job! Don't let them escape! Hit the captain! Hit everyone on deck with disorientation!"
They did not have to combine these spells into one. Without the necessity of concentration and hair-trigger timing, they soon got every Templar on deck milling about in a fog, listless and distracted.
"Firestorm!" Anders roared. "All together! Send them to the abyss!"
The ship was drifting aimlessly as Templars from below deck attempted to dispel the effects that had rendered their crew useless. The mages took advantage as it drifted closer.
A single firestorm cast by a single mage was dangerous enough. The combined firestorms of nearly a hundred mages did not even have to be targeted in a single spot like the lightning bolt that had destroyed the first ship. They also did not have to erupt at exactly the same time. Within a matter of five seconds, the entire ship was enveloped in flame.
There will be no survivors jumping off this ship, Anders thought grimly but proudly. "Force spell!" he directed the mages. "Waves! Keep it at sea!"
He led the mages in kicking up a wave just as Caitlyn had. The goal was not, in this case, to capsize the ship, but to keep the flaming barge from being a hazard to anything on the island or—Maker forbid—the harbor.
The Templars aboard the fifth ship saw, at last, that this battle was lost. The ship began rapidly retreating.
Aveline galloped all the way down the causeway, the mobile ballistae clattering behind her, but Anders could tell that it was hopeless. As Aveline, Caitlyn, and their forces arrived, the final ship was already retreating rapidly toward the horizon, the sole witness to the crushing defeat. The mages jeered and extended their middle fingers at the retreating ship, but it was too far away for anyone aboard to see them.
Mal had been very worried about his parents. He hugged them each in turn around the waist when they returned none the worse for wear. Jo Beth toddled up, holding up her chubby arms to Anders for him to pick her up. He promptly did, cuddling the little girl close.
"We won?" Mal asked.
"We did," Caitlyn said. "We sank four ships and the fifth sailed away."
"The enemy is a bunch of cowards," he snarled. "They get through a patrol by lying about who they are, carrying somebody else's flag, and now they run."
"They are cowards," she agreed harshly. "They're afraid of mages, afraid of people who don't think like they do, afraid of change."
"I hope that nobody on our side died," he said.
Anders and Caitlyn exchanged unhappy glances. "Unfortunately a few did," she said regretfully. "The battle was not going well until your father and I arrived. We turned the tide by getting the army mages to fight more effectively. But a few had been killed already. Their sacrifices will be honored."
That evening, a victory feast was held in the Gallows assembly hall. This one was far more subdued than the one following the Battle of Wildervale, even though there had been more fatalities on their side at Wildervale. Everyone present, it seemed, knew that this battle could have gone very badly if their leaders had not arrived to rally them to fight in a more effective manner. The Gallows might have fallen and the city might have had to fight for its life.
Caitlyn looked glum too, or thoughtful, at least. She hailed the victory and spoke of the sacrifices of those who had died. However, her words seemed listless and preoccupied even to her own ears as she sat down again.
Anders attempted to cheer up the mood of the assembled army. "There are people who think that mages are weak—that we can be easily divided and conquered by Templars. That is why we were forced into Circles, or on the run, or into hiding—to divide us. That is why the tactics that we used in battle today were never taught in southern Circles. Divide, weaken, conquer."
The mages managed enough spirit for a boo.
"But we rose above that," he called out, his voice rising. "The Red Templars sought to divide and conquer us just as their forebears always did. Today, they failed! Today, we reminded the enemy why mages are feared!" He ended with a triumphant snarl and raised his fist. The mages cheered.
Aveline gave him an uneasy look at this. As he sat back down, she turned to him and said quietly, so only Caitlyn, Mal, and Jo could hear, "I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that."
He stared back defiantly at her. "You saw their mood before I spoke. They won a battle, but you'd think they'd lost—or that half their friends had died. They needed a boost to their spirits."
Aveline turned aside to stare at her plate. "Yes. But I've already heard some of the City Guard muttering warily about how this battle was won."
Caitlyn gave her a hard look. "If they'd rather we had lost, that is the definition of treason, siding with the enemy in war."
"I don't think they'd rather we had lost. I'll keep an ear out, I assure you, but I don't think that's it. They were just uncomfortable hearing about mages blowing up a ship's forecastle by massing their spells together into a single lightning bolt, or enveloping it in a firestorm by the same means, or creating ocean waves powerful enough to steer ships. It's a lot more magical power than they're accustomed to."
"And it looks like that's what it will take to win this war," Caitlyn said. She lowered her voice to make utterly certain that no one except those at the head table could hear her. "They weren't going to win this battle without that approach."
"The ballistae did sink one of the ships," Aveline pointed out.
"If that had been the first thing we did, the enemy would have adapted. We saw them adapt. They're not completely stupid, even under red lyrium."
"Which is a development I really hoped we wouldn't see again," Anders said darkly, also being sure that none of the army regulars could hear him. "We didn't see it at Wildervale. How are they getting it? The thaig in the Deep Roads was supposed to be closed. Cassandra told us that in 9:36, after she first came here and discovered it among Meredith's cronies. Varric gave her a map with the place marked, and she said she would have it done!"
It was a disturbing thing to ponder. Caitlyn did not like the only reasonable conclusion, but neither could she avoid it. "We know it grows on living flesh," she said in distaste. "They might be harvesting it." She scowled. "And Samson got away after the Satinalia Massacre with his armor and lyrium kit. That's likely all that they needed."
"You should write to Cassandra about this," Aveline advised.
"I mean to, but what can she do about it now?" Her gaze hardened. "I have several letters to write, in fact. One of them will be to Highever. They are not to let ships through again without being certain of who they are."
"The enemy may have thought they had the right to use the sunburst," Aveline said. "If they think they are the 'true' Chantry, I'm sure they did."
"They knew they were being deceitful."
"Yes," she admitted, "but they might have also thought they had the right to fly that flag. Flying a false flag is a serious violation of the law of the sea and the laws of war. It's profoundly dishonorable. They might not do it except with that flag." When Caitlyn's gaze tightened in anger, Aveline added hurriedly, "I'm not trying to talk you down, Hawke. By all means, reprimand the patrol. This was a security breach that could have lost the city. But I should tell you, there's not a lot that they can do if the enemy does fly false flags—other than attack. And they'd want to be very certain of it before doing that."
Caitlyn breathed heavily. "Fine. But something has to change. The enemy will learn from their loss and change what didn't work for them. They're not likely to let ships get close enough to the shore again that our magical attacks can reach them. We have to adapt as well."
"It was still a beautiful sight to watch that massive lightning bolt, as big and powerful as the kind that erupts from a thundercloud, blow the forecastle to bits," Anders chuckled. "And the firestorms just enveloping that warship..."
Aveline gave up. "Enjoy it tonight, then. But be prepared for the fact that it has made others uneasy about battlemages."
The War Council, the following day.
Caitlyn summoned her War Council and the mages' own leaders almost as soon as she and her family had finished eating breakfast. No one delayed arriving. Even those who had not directly participated in the battle—Cullen and Thrask—had heard about it and what a closely run thing it had been.
Cullen was particularly indignant about the false flags. "How dare they fly the flag of the Chantry!" he exclaimed. "They're a schism! The sunburst belongs to the real Chantry. They're no different than the Tevinters, and at least they adopted their own sigil so that we know who they are."
As Caitlyn readied herself to reply to him, she forced the idea of him with her cousin out of her mind. From the look on Anders' face, she guessed he also had this image in his head. If they both want it and it makes them happy, it is none of my business, she resolved.
"I've sent a letter to our allies in Highever about this breach," she said. "We can't stop the enemy from behaving dishonorably, especially if they don't think it is dishonor, but we can inform the patrol that they were deceived and warn them against letting it happen again."
"No offense to those present who are Fereldan," Thrask said, glancing respectfully at most of the Council members, "but I thought Ferelden was our ally. I thought they were obligated to send us troops."
"There wasn't time to get troops here in time for this battle," Caitlyn said. "Obviously." She considered it. "I have chartered my loyal vigilante fighters as Kirkwall's militia, a military force distinct from the City Guard. But it would probably serve them well for hardened soldiers to train them, and Ferelden's army is certainly composed of hardened soldiers."
"They didn't beat Orlais by being lax," Cullen said proudly.
"I can send another letter to the Crown to request some troops and a few officers," Caitlyn said. "We have to be better prepared next time."
"The war machines have been mounted atop the city walls," Aveline reported.
"And that's good. But we need to do more. If we can't count on the Waking Sea patrol actually blocking enemy ships all the time, we need to get news faster. We need to have a means of getting word from them—and faster than a mounted messenger could travel—if anything suspicious arrives that they can't stop. This battle very easily could have been a defeat if the enemy had managed to come ashore in force. If the mages at the Gallows had fallen, the enemy could have rampaged through the city just as the Qunari did!"
"Your Grace," Petra objected, "our use of combined spells—your idea—"
"Worked because the ships made the mistake of getting too close," Caitlyn said harshly. "If they had stayed farther out at sea, they would have been able to blockade us. And if I hadn't had the idea of combining spells, they would have continued to pick you off. They might have managed to come ashore. The Templars aboard the ship that got away will tell their commanders how the battle went. The enemy will learn from this and change tactics next time." She turned to the others. "We need to get messages faster."
Merrill spoke up. "The ancient elves of Arlathan had sending-stones and mirrors such as the one I had once thought to repair," she said. "They could send messages by magic instantly, over great distances."
"And have you managed to locate any of these sending-stones?"
Merrill shook her head sadly. "They were all lost long ago."
Then why did you mention it? This is a war council, not a scholars' session to discuss ancient lore. Caitlyn tried to keep her patience. "Then unfortunately, the ancient elves' advanced magic can't help us," she said. "Any other ideas?"
Caspar Waite of Markham then spoke up. "For the record, the Markham Circle had one of those stones, but we could never get it to work. But on a more useful note, the University of Markham has a rookery. Ravens can be trained to carry small, light letters. They can fly as fast as a horse can gallop, but go longer without requiring rest—and in a straight path. They're unobtrusive, too. They can fly too high to be noticed."
Caitlyn's heart started pounding. That was more promising. Leliana had trained ravens, she knew. She hadn't realized anyone else used them. "I know someone who has trained ravens. How does it work, and could we get some of these ravens in reasonable time?"
"Maybe," he said guardedly. "They have to be trained to know where to go. University scholars write to their counterparts in the University of Orlais, mainly, but there are a handful of birds that go elsewhere—to Weisshaupt, to Antiva City, I think a few to Denerim to the new University of Ferelden. A bird only goes between two places. If you want to send a message somewhere, you have to have a bird that knows to fly there."
"Kirkwall hasn't used this means of communication," Caitlyn said, her heart sinking again. "There wouldn't be any ravens trained to fly here, except those belonging to my associate. How long does it take to train them?"
"They learn fairly quickly, actually," Waite said. "Wicked smart birds, ravens. They can be trained in a few months, perhaps half a year."
Caitlyn made her decision instantly. "Let's do this, then. We need rapid communication with Markham, as our ally, and Amaranthine if we can manage it. If the University of Markham would be willing to sell some untrained birds, and send us a trainer, I will pay handsomely."
Waite bowed. "I do not think it would be necessary for the University to send a trainer, Your Grace," he said. "Some of the former Markham Circle mages, who had a particular interest in creatures, worked with the University's official trainers. There was a thought about having a rookery at the Circle so that we could have a better, faster exchange of ideas with the University." He chuckled bitterly. "The Knight-Commander shut the idea down. He didn't want us to communicate by a means that he couldn't track."
"Oh, there's a big surprise," Anders muttered. He looked up at the former First Enchanter. "It's a great idea, though." He turned to Caitlyn with a smile. "It should make a real difference."
"It should," Caitlyn agreed, smiling back at him before turning to the others. "I will write to the University. Meanwhile, you, Waite, make your inquiries among the mages who have this knowledge and select the best candidates."
"Will do, Your Graces."
Caitlyn rose from her chair, followed at once by her Council members. "This meeting is dismissed, then. We won this battle, the Battle of Kirkwall Harbor. It could have gone the other way, but it didn't. Ingenuity and magical power saved the day. Now let's make sure we win the war."
Notes: The battles will get progressively tougher.
Re: the robes-or-armor bit, I get that the point of flimsy mage clothing in games is to force trade-offs about attack power vs. defense. But this is a story, not gameplay. Caitlyn and Anders aren't going to screw around acting the amateur like Fiona and her lieutenants manifestly did. (And, yes, as my Game of Thrones fan readers likely guessed, Caitlyn's armor is heavily based on Daenerys's "burning of King's Landing" armor.)
And that gets to one of the purposes I have for writing this story: to show what could have been for canon if the mages had had competent leaders and worked with non-mage allies who knew something about warfare and/or had effective non-magical technology. Instead of the disorganized rabble in DA:I, an organized army of well-armored mages, acting as a team, with strategists and tacticians, using applied magic to enhance non-magical technology (there'll be a lot of that in future chapters!), would be formidable.
Caitlyn speaking darkly of "counter-revolutionary actions" is meant to be chilling. Nothing good ever came from that phrase, especially when it's applied to individual choices for private life.
