Song: Dropkick Murphys – "Blood"
Chapter 77: If You Want Blood, We'll Give You Some
"I think I might have something that could break the siege. An explosive."
Caitlyn did not quite believe her ears at first. It had been such a miserable two months, and although she did not want to consciously admit it, she was starting to lose hope. But then her mind shouted at her, and the import of Anders' words hit her with full force.
"You've tested it?" she said, gazing at him with wide eyes. "You know it is an explosive?"
He smirked. "It was an explosive accident the first time. I had the bruises to show it that day. Since then, I've replicated the accidental explosion and refined it to be larger and more concussive."
"Well, don't keep me in suspense!" she exclaimed, eyes gleaming. A smile was starting to tug at the corners of her lips. "What goes into it? And how big an explosion does it produce?"
"Very simple ingredients," he said, noting that her smile broadened with every word he said. "Drakestone, sela petrae, and charcoal."
"You have to be jesting," Caitlyn gasped. "Those are..."
"Rubbish ingredients," Anders agreed. "And I did scrape them into a pail the day I accidentally set off an explosion, along with water runoff, which allowed them to mix and consolidate. I was cleaning a haul of other minerals. I set the waste bucket next to the fire and cast a flame to try to light the fireplace..."
"Maker's breath! I'm glad you're all right, then!"
"'Maker's breath' might be an appropriate enough name for this," he said wickedly, "but I've taken to calling it 'blasting powder' in my mind already." He shrugged. "I don't think creatively when it comes to naming my potions. I just want them to work. And this one does. Does it ever."
"Could it truly generate explosions big enough to scatter the army?"
"If we make enough barrels of it, absolutely. And we should have enough of the materials in the caves to make plenty of barrels." He paused. "If we can work out a way to deploy it in waterproof containers, and detonate it remotely, it might even be able to blow up the ships in the blockade."
"How is it detonated?" she asked, trying to calm her palpitating heart. "Only fire?"
"That's the only way I've been able to discover, but there is a lot that can be done with that. If we packed it into barrels that had wicks trailing out of them, and lit those wicks, that would work for deploying it against the enemy army."
"It won't detonate from being shaken or dropped like a lyrium bomb?"
"Nope." Anders smirked broadly.
"This is amazing," Caitlyn gasped. "Yes—if it's stable amid motion, and requires fire to explode, barrels with wicks would be just the thing... light the wick, launch a barrel in a trebuchet, it hits the enemy army and explodes..."
"Exactly. For land use, it's practically ready. It just needs to be made. For the harbor..." He hesitated. "That's an issue. There are still the problems with waterproofing and detonation from a distance."
Caitlyn forced herself to think about the possibilities. It sounded like this idea really could break the siege—and change the course of the war, she thought excitedly—but they would need to be sure that their methods of deploying it did not waste it. "What about magic?" she suggested. "Or runes?"
He nodded. "I think there are possibilities with fire runes. I could even work with Justice."
"He can cast spells remotely? Through the Fade?"
"It's... complicated," Anders said. "He would have to interact with the material form of whatever he needed to manipulate, so that he would know exactly where to go in the Fade to find its form there, but... yes, I think he could then use its Fade-form as a conduit to it wherever it happened to be in the physical world. That's why I need to be involved in making it... and why he can't just cast spells remotely at the ships as they are. He knows where in the Fade my memories are, and this would put a memory of mine into the Fade." His gaze grew serious. "But this might take a lot out of him."
"Will it hurt him?" she asked, concerned.
"Not permanently. Spirits recover their strength like any fighter if they don't cross a point of no return. But... this would be a big thing. We'd have one shot at it."
Caitlyn drew near him and put her arms around his shoulders, gazing seriously into his face. "I love you," she said, "and I want you—and him—to be safe. Don't attempt something that you have doubts about. If we can produce enough of this blasting powder, we can definitely send the army fleeing. That might be enough."
He gave her a peck on the nose. "I'm not sure it will be," he said. "I think we need to break the blockade too. But you have my word that I won't try anything that I fear is beyond my capacity—or his."
Caitlyn wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against his chest. She felt his arms enclose her in a warm embrace. For the first time in months, she had hope again—hope, excitement, and incredible warmth toward Anders for being the one to think of this.
"I'll need to work with blacksmiths," Anders said, reluctantly breaking away from her. "I've found that if I can set off an explosion in a tightly sealed container, the ensuing blast is even bigger. But I've only been able to test it in wood and glass so far. Metal could also be a solution to the waterproofing issue—not so strong that it won't break, but strong enough to really let the pressure rise."
"I hope you haven't produced big explosions..."
"I haven't," he assured her, "at least, none since the accident. I've just been testing it in corked glass bottles. But I can work out what size blast I'll get with a barrel full. Or more."
"Let's do this," Caitlyn declared at once. Her eyes were shining. "If we can make enough of this, we could blow apart the siege with this weapon alone. No lyrium bomb gambles, no blood magic or demons..."
"Blood magic and demons?" he repeated, eyebrows flying up.
She flushed. "Merrill's suggestions."
"Maker. Of course."
"I did not approve them," she said defensively. "I see the risks with those. Your idea, though?" She smirked back at him. "This weapon could change the war."
"This weapon could change the world."
Caitlyn gave Anders free rein to do as he saw fit, with only two stipulations: that he and his assistants not perform tests inside the Keep, and that they keep their work secret until it was ready to deploy. She did not want to risk the enemy army hearing of it via traitors in the city. After the mob of effigy-burning protesters, she was quite certain there were some.
There was a large, empty Lowtown warehouse that could be quickly outfitted with a forge. Caitlyn requisitioned this warehouse with her war powers, forcing the owner to sell to the city. But this was what her war powers were for. The warehouse even had a partition already that could be reinforced. Caitlyn could see at once that the smithing of metal containers would need to be kept rigidly separate from the production of blasting powder, for safety reasons.
Anders hired Sandal Feddic as his personal assistant in powder production. Caitlyn thought that a sound choice. Sandal was a strange soul, but he was undeniably talented with runes, and she had often wondered if he had some sort of highly advanced arcane knowledge that he was simply unable to share due to his speech problem.
The blacksmiths that Anders chose were at first surprised and somewhat disgruntled to learn that they were to work on producing mere containers, but their opinions changed rapidly when he let them into the secret of the new weapon he was developing. The dwarven smiths in particular understood his needs before he even finished explaining.
"What you are talking about," the runecrafter Worthy explained, "we dwarves have known for a long time. If the temperature rises and the volume remains the same, pressure rises. That's how you got those big blasts." He eyed Sandal Feddic. "I was pissed off when Hawke started hiring him instead of me, but I can do this. The smiths can make the boxes and I'll reinforce them on the inside with my trusty armor runes."
"They won't hold indefinitely, though, will they?" Anders asked.
"Oh no, your blasting powder explosions will definitely break the lot. But the boom you get when that happens will be quite impressive. So, all right, you can work with that weirdo to do your magic shit. The smiths and I have got the engineering covered."
"Enchantment!" Sandal declared happily.
As Anders worked with his assistants on the blasting powder bombs, Caitlyn turned to the political situation. Although she, Anders, and their closest confidants knew that there was now hope, the people of Kirkwall did not, and gold and food supplies were still dwindling. She needed to keep the domestic situation from exploding again until the blasting powder did explode.
I have Harlan and Lusine in prison, she thought, exulting in the fact. The Coterie leaders were no longer at large to undermine her, raise mobs against her, and commission seditious plays. Perhaps the organization would fall apart without a strong leader whom everyone in it feared and respected.
She did not care that they claimed they had not intended the mob to burn effigies of her and Anders. Perhaps they hadn't, but they had still raised it and marched it to the Keep in the middle of a siege. They had commissioned that play calling for her violent overthrow. And, before they had gotten involved in politics at all, they were crime bosses. Harlan was unquestionably a murderer. For that alone he deserved to hang. Caitlyn was not sure how guilty Lusine was of anything other than just being a part of the Coterie, but it would not surprise her if the madam had, at some point in her long "career," enabled rape or even child sexual slavery in her brothel.
In any case, Caitlyn fully intended that they should both be executed as soon as there was a good time for that. She informed Aveline of this decision.
The Guard-Captain looked torn. "Obviously, executing Harlan is justice," she agreed. "The man deserves the noose many times over."
Caitlyn frowned. "I get the impression that you are about to say 'but.'"
Aveline smiled back wryly. "I don't think right now is the best time to do it. That's all I'm saying. People are fearful—of the enemy, of starvation, of poverty. Executing Harlan might be a spark that leads to an inferno."
"You don't think they are afraid of me?"
Aveline regarded her with a furrowed brow. A silence fell. "Do you want them to be?" she finally asked.
Caitlyn set her jaw in a hard clench. "If they have thoughts of overthrowing me, yes, I do want that. I want their fear of the consequences of failure to be stronger than their desire for success."
"They didn't always want to overthrow you," Aveline said. "At least, not all of them. Some of them have just become desperate due to the siege." And rebellious against some of your decisions, like keeping the Harimanns locked up without trial or evidence. "They changed their minds once. They could be brought back to your side, perhaps."
Caitlyn's gaze hardened. "If they harbor thoughts of overthrowing me, their loyalty is fickle—no, it's nonexistent," she said. "And if I can't have the loyalty of Kirkwall's people, I'll have their fear."
Aveline's brows flew high. "I really urge you to rethink this idea of ruling by fear, Hawke. The siege has altered their perceptions, made them think things they otherwise wouldn't, because they are afraid. Consider that it might have done this to you too."
"I'm afraid of losing the war, so—what? Say what you mean, Aveline."
Aveline stared back at Caitlyn, meeting her gaze without fear. "You are turning increasingly to this idea of being 'tough' and 'hard,' of making people fear you rather than trying to cultivate their loyalty again."
As much as Caitlyn disliked being lectured by her closest friend, she did respect Aveline for meeting her eye to eye. She hardened her gaze. "That's exactly what I'm doing. You're right. And I don't think I have another choice."
"If Anders' idea works out, the siege will break, and the city will celebrate."
"Would that be a better time to execute Harlan and Lusine?"
"What are you planning to execute Lusine for?" Aveline said, taken aback.
"Treason," Caitlyn said. "She raised that mob too."
"It began as a protest..."
"They both knew damned well what it could turn into, and I will not believe that it wasn't part of their plan for it to turn violent. They knew perfectly well that I couldn't do anything about the siege. There was no reason to send protesters with complaints about it if there was no relief possible! They raised that mob to overthrow me, Aveline. It's treason."
Aveline sighed. "You're probably right," she admitted. "And Harlan deserves it, beyond any doubt. I'm only advising you to not be rash or... injudicious in how and when you do it. A lot of the common people see Harlan as a political rival to you. If you put him to death, you'll want to change their minds on that point first. Otherwise it could be disastrous for you."
Caitlyn did not quite agree, but she realized that pursuing the discussion with Aveline would lead to an unpleasant argument and neither of them conceding to the other. She merely smiled thinly, letting her friend believe she was dropping the subject and considering Aveline's advice.
But as Caitlyn saw it, a seething, angry populace, particularly that fraction of it that wanted to overthrow her, would sense weakness like a shark smelled blood in the water—and being cautious about when and how she put the crime lord to death would read as weakness, she believed. Better, in her view, to do it openly, to at least make them believe she did not fear them.
Even though, if Caitlyn had to admit it to the deepest recess of her soul, she knew that at this point she did.
It was that dream again.
The sky flashed green, malevolent magic swirling in the clouds as she glared ahead. The lake of blood surrounding her feet stank, its iron reek especially foul tonight. The voices of children condemned her, their sounds watery and attenuated, as if they were submerged in the dark red sea.
"Betrayer!"
"Failure!"
"You let us down!"
They refer to Harlan, Caitlyn believed. My mind is troubled because I fear what he'll do if I don't... take the chance that I have. They have to mean him. Who else could it be? As a mage, she was fully aware in the Fade, and this aspect of the recurring dream hardened her resolution to take strong action in the material world once the time was right.
Caitlyn glared out defiantly. "You're not real children! You're nothing but fearlings trying to frighten me. You should fear me! I have the ability to destroy you!"
The voices did not respond in words, but the pale green rift in the sky did seem to crackle in reaction to her defiance. A strange voice, one that seemed to echo all around her, coming from everywhere and also nowhere specific, sounded through the Fade.
"You fight your fears by making yourself feared even more," it said in a curious, almost metallic echo. "Aggression and defiance, displays of power to terrify others: That's you."
Caitlyn had had this dream several times, but this voice was new. She tried to find the speaker, but it was like trying to cage a shadow. The sky crackled again. Caitlyn glowered, raising her Fade-staff, an absurdly tall rod that flamed at the end in hues of orange and green...
A piercing shriek interrupted the dreamscape, and as Caitlyn whirled around to identify its source, she realized that it was not coming from the Fade...
The surroundings melted away to black... then to warm red...
"I defy you, creature!"
Anders—no, Justice—was screaming. The blue light of the spirit flashed over his body as rapidly as lightning in an intense thunderstorm, several flashes with every passing second. His entire body was blue, and the bright eyes of Justice glowed behind the thin skin of Anders' eyelids.
Caitlyn's heart was already pounding from her own nightmare and the new voice in it. She had rarely seen her husband's "Justice moments" this intense. It looked like the spirit was close to completely taking him over to fight the nameless darkspawn that haunted his dreams.
"Anders! Wake up!" she exclaimed, scrambling out of the bed just in case Justice lashed out at her by accident. She regretted that she knew so few spells that were not violent. She didn't want to hurt him. Cringing, she cast a powerful wave of raw force. It lifted the mattress, then slammed it back into the bed frame. Anders' body bounced as he awakened.
The spirit's control ceased as his eyes snapped open. Surprise filled his face as he realized that Caitlyn was not beside him in bed—and then regret and shame as he understood why. An expression of anguish filled his face, and he burst into dry sobs as she moved back to the bed.
Caitlyn sat on the mattress and placed an arm around his shoulders as he shook. "I'm sorry," he finally choked out. "Curse this thing to the Void!" He gazed at her with hollow eyes. "I'm so sorry. Your brother must have to endure it too sometimes, except that he doesn't have a spirit to help him fight it."
"Are you sure that it isn't targeting you in particular, because of Justice?" she said quietly. She did not want to think about Carver being tormented by this creature—at least not to the same degree that Anders manifestly was.
He sighed. "I don't know. It doesn't let me see anything that it's doing to other Wardens. It may be after me in particular. And some of this is Justice's resolve to fight it—that I do know." He took a shuddering breath. "Tonight was especially bad because I think I was more mentally vulnerable than usual."
"Problems at the warehouse?" she asked gently.
"No... but..." He rubbed his eyes, then gazed at her blearily. "I feel like the fate of our children, of you, of all the Free Mages is on my shoulders now."
It is, Caitlyn thought sadly. Yours and mine. But she could not tell him that. "You've got this," she encouraged him. "You're going to be the hero of the Siege of Kirkwall. You can do this, darling."
He enveloped her in an embrace, burying his head on her shoulder and rubbing her back. She hugged him, massaging and caressing his tense muscles. She had thought of telling him about the new variation in her own dream, but decided against it. I don't want to put more on him. It's just Fade nonsense, anyway. I'll be prepared for it if I hear it again.
The family observed Mal's and Caitlyn's birthdays quietly. There was not much to celebrate—yet—and it would be wasteful and in poor taste. Still, it was a time to reflect, most especially for Caitlyn and Anders.
"The last year before our son is a teenager," she said, raising an oddly solemn toast. She gazed at her husband and children. Jo Beth had fallen asleep, resting on her stomach on the sofa next to her brother. Worry filled Mal's young face, and his petting of Ser Pounce-a-Lot was rather listless. He was now twelve and knew perfectly well the threat that they all faced.
Anders gazed at his family, his own face a mixture of weariness and optimism, the former present in his eyes but the latter tugging at his mouth. He managed a weak smile. "His twelfth year will be very different from mine. It's going to happen, love. Things are moving. This siege will break."
Mal knew that his father was at work on a secret explosive compound, but he had never seen it set off, so he could not imagine a blast big enough to destroy the blockade or send the enormous army that surrounded the city fleeing. Anders noticed his son's impatience and ruffled his hair. "It'll work, son," he said. "I promise. It's going to end this siege. We're not going to fall."
Mal sighed. He wanted to believe his parents when they said things like this, but he was quite old enough to realize that not all promises could be kept.
Caitlyn noticed his skepticism. "He's not saying that just to make you feel better," she assured him. "He wouldn't be working so hard on this, with runecrafters and smiths involved too, if it didn't look like it would succeed. He just can't show it off early because traitors in the city might see and give the enemy a heads up."
Mal understood, but he did wish he could see it. He managed a nod as the cat jumped off his lap.
Anders' heart went out to him. "I'm so sorry that you have to live through this," he said, giving the boy a hug. "I wish it didn't have to be this way. I wish we could have just been an ordinary family. But you know why we have to fight this war. It was the only way to make that life, that future, possible."
Mal nodded again. "I was born twelve years ago," he said quietly. "You and Mother met thirteen years ago. It must be hard for that much time to pass and..." He trailed off guiltily, unable to complete the sentence.
Anders smiled sympathetically. "And so much still needing to be done to guarantee mages the freedom we deserve. I know. But I think this year will be a crucial one for the cause. This month certainly will."
Mal smiled. "A late birthday gift?"
"If you like!" Anders said. "And an anniversary one for your mother's and my first meeting." He exchanged a pointed, proud smile with Caitlyn.
Late Wintermarch.
"Enchantment!" Sandal proclaimed, beaming.
"Yeah," Worthy agreed as he screwed the top of one of the containers closed. Inside, blasting powder lurked menacingly, though it would not be set off until the wick—which slipped very tightly through a tiny hole in the cap—burned down to the level of the powder. "You said it."
Anders was also grinning. He and the smiths had worked hard, with teams mining the caves for every scrap of mineral they could. No one had bothered to strip the caves bare of these substances, so useless as they were for blades and armor, and that meant that they were plentiful. Anders' part in the production had been to mix and refine the blasting powder, speeding the process along with magic, and then to work with Sandal on a way to explode it from a distance.
The smiths, meanwhile, had developed airtight and waterproof containers. The dwarven engineers among them, who had keen minds for this type of work, concluded at once that the shape that would allow maximum pressure buildup before exploding was a sphere. A box, or anything with sharp edges or corners on the inside, would be weak along those seams, but a sphere allowed the heated air from the explosion to expand equally in all directions. Thus it happened that the bombs that would be deployed against the army, lit and lofted in trebuchets, were not barrels, but forged balls about three feet in diameter filled with blasting powder.
The smiths had forged several smaller ones as well. These would be used against the harbor blockade. But even with all of these bomb casings produced, there was still far more powder available. This excess powder was packed into barrels that Anders ordered closely guarded.
He and Sandal had developed a working form of Anders' idea: a cord of electrically conductive metal that served in place of a wick and threaded through the smaller spheres, creating a very long necklace of sorts with explosive beads. Anders had remembered that static charge could start a fire if it sparked on something combustible, and he had instantly resolved to make use of that fact. He had tested casting a lightning spell from a distance as he had described to Caitlyn. It was made easier with a lightning rune crafted by Sandal as a focus for Justice in the Fade, inactive at first until the spell struck it.
The spheres were waterproof, and so was the metal cord after it was coated in the same type of paint used on wood. The balls could be made to bob if they were attached to pieces of wood—and the need for flotation was why they were smaller. They could all be sparked at nearly the same time with a lightning spell. By all measures, the bombs should be ready to deploy over water too.
And yet Anders had doubts. He was not convinced that the blast this chain of bombs produced would be enough to take out the enemy fleet. He kept eyeing the rows of powder barrels, wishing he could do something with them...
He sighed. It was time to tell Caitlyn, anyway. Maybe she would have an idea.
When Anders informed Caitlyn that the project was—mostly—ready, she felt an unutterable sense of relief. Not a moment too soon, she thought as she prepared to go to Lowtown and speak with the other team leads. After a moment's consideration, she decided it would be advisable to bring in her friends and some of the mages' leaders too. Hence it was a far larger group than Anders had expected that trekked to the warehouse: Anders, Caitlyn, Aveline, Petra, Sketch, Fenris, and Merrill.
The smiths and runecrafters were pleased to explain the details to Caitlyn and her lieutenants, many of whom had questions indeed.
"This spherical shape will keep the bomb casing intact for the longest amount of time until it blows," Worthy said to Aveline and Fenris, who were frowning and nodding in contemplation. "Though, mind you, we're talking about fractions of a second. It matters for the pressure buildup, though!"
"Explosions do get very big very quickly," Anders chimed in, grinning.
"A sphere should also be easier to fit in a trebuchet," Aveline mused.
Fenris was eyeing the bombs warily. Finally he spoke up. "I hesitate to mention this, and no doubt it has occurred to someone on this project, but... the description of this substance's effect sounds very much like the Qunari gaatlok to me. And it is, in fact, a black powder that you have made."
"The Qunari have those cannons," Anders said. "The dwarves here have told me that what I've made isn't well suited for that. Good for explosions, not so great for pushing a projectile forward in a single direction."
"Nonetheless," Fenris continued, "it sounds remarkably similar—and I worry about a repeat attack by the Qunari nation once they learn we have this."
Caitlyn considered that. "The nations of southern Thedas have had other explosives of various sorts," she said. "Lyrium bombs, hand grenades..."
"But they have limitations, which is why you authorized this project."
"I agree," she conceded. "But here's how I see it. We have a siege to defeat now, and Anders' blasting powder looks like the only feasible and relatively low-risk way of breaking it. We have to use it."
"True enough," Fenris granted.
"After that... we need to build up arms anyway to continue the war, if the enemy doesn't surrender at once after this—and I doubt they will," she said grimly, "since they're fanatics. So we'll have a vast store of arms, and the deterrence that brings counts for a lot. Nobody has launched an offensive war against the Qunari on their own land. The Tevinter war against them is self-defense. I'm sorry, Fenris, but it is—they invaded Tevinter areas in the Steel Age," she added as he scowled at the mention of the land in which he had been enslaved. "My point is that the reason nobody has started a war of aggression against the Qunari is not really because of the Llomerryn Accords. It's because all of Thedas knows about their gaatlok and their cannons. And so it would be for us. The mere existence of powerful weapons is a deterrent."
"Once we use these bombs, there's little choice but to create a lot more," Fenris agreed. "And we do seem to have no choice but to use them. At least they aren't—" He broke off abruptly.
Anders spoke up, giving the elven warrior a glare as he took his side next to Caitlyn. "Aren't what? Inherently magical?"
Fenris glowered back. "Well—yes."
"If that makes you feel better," Anders sniped. He turned to Caitlyn. "That said, I do have an... alternative way of detonating them that does involve magic." He threw a brief smirk Fenris's way, then turned back to her. "Justice can activate a lightning rune that Sandal has enchanted to be inactive until a spell strikes it. Normally a runecrafter wouldn't make a rune that had to be activated by a mage—or a spirit in this case—but it's what we need."
"And you've tested it?" Her heart thumped.
"I have."
"What about this floating chain of bombs? Let me see that."
Anders and the dwarves escorted her to the part of the forge where that weapon was cordoned off. She gaped at it. It was enormous. Easily thirty bombs were piled up, and the cable that would conduct the electricity spell between them was coiled and its coils tied to prevent entanglements.
"This could be as big as the chains that can block access to the harbor," she breathed.
"It's longer," Worthy said. "The strength of this cord is less important than its conductivity. It doesn't have to be strong enough to hold ships in."
Caitlyn studied the string of bombs, frowning. "Will these generate explosions big enough to blow up the enemy fleet?"
Anders and his crafters grimaced. "I'm not sure they will," he admitted. "Some of the smaller ships, maybe. I'm not sure about that thing that is their flagship, the Sister Amity. That one's huge. And I don't know exactly how best to get them out there. Force spells, perhaps, but they have a range. Then maybe... using tides and waves?"
It was clear to Caitlyn that this was the weakest part of his idea. The bombs that would be used on land were ready to go. These still had wrinkles to be ironed out. She then noticed the tightly packed rows of barrels, as tall as the wall. "What about those?" she asked. "What are they for?"
"They're just excess powder," the dwarf explained. "The smiths could make more casings in time, but there was an absurd amount of ingredients in the caves. This... wall of barrels... is what we couldn't pack into bombs."
"The Qunari call it a 'magazine,'" Fenris said.
"Right."
Caitlyn put her hand up for silence. An idea had come to her, one that was rather a wrench, but one that she also knew in her heart was probably the right thing to do in the situation. The state ship Vengeance was hobbled. Isabela had managed to save most of those aboard, but the mast had smashed through the aftcastle, and there was a great gash in the hull. The hull was patched, but it was still weak, and the aftcastle was essentially destroyed. The deck was severely damaged. The ship was in bad shape. It was possible to repair, but the cost might be prohibitive.
On the other hand...
Caitlyn took a deep breath. "What if we used the Vengeance? It would cast out to sea empty of crew, using the currents and the momentum of force spells as you suggest, but packed with as many of those barrels as possible into the hold. And it could be attached to the bomb chain, so it pulls them along like a tugboat."
Aveline gaped at her. "You would... blow up the Vengeance?"
"Why not?" she asked. "What kind of leader am I if I'm not willing to sacrifice a material possession of mine for the cause? I can get another ship. I can't get another chance to win this war." She gazed at the barrels. "What kind of explosion would ensue if you, hypothetically speaking of course, set off all those barrels at once?"
"Maker's breath!" Anders exclaimed, eyes wide. "You wouldn't want to be anywhere near that!"
"It would take out the Sister Amity?"
He gaped at her. "Take it out? It would leave nothing left within half a mile! The bomb chain is almost superfluous if you do that!"
"Still," Caitlyn said, heart pounding, "I want to make a statement. We will be able to make more blasting powder in the future, won't we?"
"Oh yes," Worthy chimed in. "It'll take time to create this much again, since they stripped the caves bare, but none of the materials are rare. And of course, with the city opened up, they won't be limited to the caves."
She made her decision. "Then we're doing it. I will donate the Vengeance to the war effort. Its hold will be packed with barrels of blasting powder, and the conductive cable your people forged will be attached to it. We'll send it out. It'll look like a battered ship drifting. Then..." She glanced meaningfully at Anders, smiling.
"I do like the symbolism of it," he said quietly.
"I want to deploy the bombs at night," Caitlyn resolved. "Make it hard for the enemy to see what we're up to even if they have spyglasses." Her gaze hardened. "This siege will end, and we will make a statement that everyone in the world understands."
Isabela was appalled at the planned fate of the Vengeance, but she did see Caitlyn's logic. She suggested a sendoff party for the ship.
"Nothing too fancy, of course," she said. "Don't want to attract attention. But just us old-timers, the crew who're packing her with the barrels, and some good brandy, maybe, to see her off." Her voice choked up oddly. "A good way for a ship to go out."
"Especially one with this name," Anders agreed. "Justice is proud. It's a good and fitting end indeed."
"Well," Isabela snarked, the uncomfortable sob gone from her voice, "if Justice says so. I'm glad to know that we have his approval."
"You need to tell Markham about this," Aveline said quietly to Caitlyn, off to one side. "I doubt we can wipe out the entire army with this alone... and when they flee, which I do hope they'll do, we'll need to go to Lighthouse Point and liberate it too. Markham's forces need to meet us there."
Caitlyn saw her friend's logic. "I'll send a raven to the Margrave," she said. "I don't want to send secret intelligence by raven, though. Not a word about the specifics of this blasting powder. I'll just tell him that we have a plan to break the siege and to march for Lighthouse Point."
"The idea of secrecy reminds me," she continued, "I'm extremely concerned about the danger this would pose if people started making it in Darktown. Hightown rests atop the rock."
Caitlyn considered that. It was chilling to contemplate, certainly. "We need to liberate Lighthouse Point—and shore it up better than before—so that people can move out of Darktown. It shouldn't be a place of residence. It's unhealthy. Maybe the time has come to close it down by mandate, block the entrances, and relocate people to the settlements between the city and Lighthouse Point if they have nowhere else to go. Kirkwall could plan another small village or two."
Aveline nodded. "I'll give the order for the bombs to be sent to the walls, with some kept in reserve for liberating Lighthouse Point."
"Thank you," Caitlyn said. "I knew we would need to liberate it, obviously, but I hadn't thought about setting bombs aside for that."
Aveline smiled. "That's why leaders delegate some tasks."
Caitlyn considered the operation itself. This was Anders' invention. An accidental explosion in his potions workroom had led to this day. Aveline was right. I can't do this by myself, she thought, but I have great people around me. At this moment, she had no resentment toward Aveline for the questionable advice—in her opinion—that her friend had given her about legal due process. Aveline meant well, and Caitlyn would not have her other than as she was.
Three nights later, the crew who had worked all month carted their weapons out to the harbor, concealed under heavy tarps. Mages guarded the convoy gingerly, eyes scanning the surroundings carefully for the slightest sign of fire or sparks. Caitlyn had given the order to shut down all smithing tonight along the streets and alleys between the warehouse and the harbor, and Aveline had seen it carried out. They could not risk an accidental explosion. Such an accident could level Lowtown.
They reached the damaged ship. In the distance, the lights of the enemy fleet gleamed, a menacing reminder of the blockade. They will be extinguished soon, Caitlyn thought, after a flash of light that puts them to shame.
They boarded the ship for the last time and gazed out at the harbor as the crew packed the barrels tightly into the hold. Isabela opened a bottle of brandy and poured glasses for her friends. They clinked them together without a word, silently contemplating the moment. She poured one more, then poured it onto the deck of the ship in salute.
Isabela and Merrill were cheerful enough, and so were several of the bomb crew when they joined them on deck to share the liquor. The others in the friend group were more contemplative. Aveline kept a watchful eye on the enemy through her spyglass, always the soldier. Fenris gazed out inscrutably at the moon, his glass long empty. Caitlyn wondered what he was thinking. This will turn the war indisputably in our favor, she thought. And that means mages' favor. We'll have to guard the secret of this weapon as carefully as the Qunari, and others could still stumble upon it. We'll have to build up arms to deter an attack, as I said. But if Tevinter invents it independently, that would change the game in their own war. Perhaps Fenris realizes that too.
She turned to Anders, who was staring at the moon as well. "Copper for your thoughts, love?" she asked him quietly.
He turned his head to face her, blond hair blowing from the overnight land breeze. "I was just thinking of what we're about to do. This will be a blast heard around the world, in a sense."
"I was thinking the same thing."
He faced the sky again, leaning on the rail. She joined him by his side. "It's really not that difficult to discover or make," he continued. "It's a matter of time before other people have it. The day I told you I'd had a breakthrough, I said 'this weapon will change the world.' It will. And that is good for mages, since it is our war in which it'll be used first... but... a lot more will change than I thought when we began this fight. Warfare will be forever different. Mages as true soldiers, officers, leaders, rather than being used as walking weapons... and now this."
She nodded, considering that. "It will. But things had to change."
"They did."
They stood side by side, leaning on the rail of the doomed ship, until the crew had finished packing the hold with blasting powder and attached the conductive cable. By that time, glimmers of dawn were appearing in the sky.
"We should go," Caitlyn said. She gazed across the deck of her ship, the ruined aftcastle, the shattered mainmast. "Farewell, Vengeance." She poured out the rest of her brandy onto the deck. "You were well named."
They disembarked silently. Caitlyn released the ship from its moorings and watched, a lump in her throat, as she, Anders, and the other mages cast force spells at the water. They did not need to create a vast wave, just enough of one to bring the ship and its train to the current that would then carry it outward.
"Don't use up your magic on this," she said quietly to Anders. "You need to reserve a lot for Justice to do... what he has to do."
He smiled back at her, a cocky grin. "I've got it under control, sweetheart."
"Fenris and I will return to the wall," Aveline said. "We need to be prepared to load the other bombs into trebuchets. You have this? You're going to be safe?"
"I know what has to be done," Anders repeated.
"As you say, then." She saluted them and departed with Fenris and several blacksmiths in tow.
On the deck of the Sister Amity, a Templar, a Red Templar knight, and a priest were gathered around a table.
"How many more nights like this?" the priest muttered, the cold winter breeze lofting over the sea and mussing her hair. She pulled a fur around her for warmth. "Is that mage going to starve her own city?"
"She's an apostate," the Templar said. "They are capable of any evil."
"It can't go on much longer," the Red Templar said. He had not been asked to make the holy sacrifice of Transformation that some of his brothers and sisters had. "Horrors," the impious whispered of them—and if he heard anyone defaming the Transformed with that name, he cut their tongues out.
He had not had to do that, but his supply of red lyrium was dwindling. The kind produced by the Transformed Red Templars was not fit for consumption in raw form. Like the conventional kind that he had first taken when he joined the Templars, it required refinement and liquidation. He did not want his fellow Templars and Red Templars to fall into madness. The Divine should send a supply ship. It wasn't as if the heretics and apostates could stop it.
The priest laughed suddenly, her sharp chuckle piercing the bitterly cold air. "Look at that!" she snickered, pointing at a mass that was drifting at sea. "Kirkwall just lost one of its ships. If you can call that a ship anymore!"
The men studied the drifting hulk. "I think that's the one that the apostate's Rivaini harlot captained the day we arrived," the Templar said.
"The one we clobbered," the Red Templar agreed. "That's amusing."
"It's a sign from the Maker!" the priest proclaimed.
Aveline watched carefully as the largest trebuchet was loaded with a round bomb. The machinery creaked and clinked, but as far as the enemy could know, they were just loading it with a stone.
"Shall we light the wick, General?"
"No," she said. "We wait for the signal."
"What signal? What are we looking for?"
She gave him a grim look. "You'll know when it happens. We all will."
"When are they going to do it?"
Varric patted Mal Hawke on the shoulder as the young man stared out the window in the direction of the harbor. "Soon enough."
"Will I really be able to see it?" He squinted. "I see the lights of the enemy ships, sort of..."
"You'll see it. No mistake about that."
Caitlyn had sent Varric, who had no particular military task to do, to the Keep to wake the children up in case they wanted to watch from atop the rock. Mal did, as anyone with an ounce of knowledge of twelve-year-old boys—even sweet ones like him—could have predicted. Jo Beth had more difficulty keeping her eyes open, but she understood that a big fiery blast would appear, and that was interesting to her as well. From what Anders had said, they would have no difficulty seeing it.
Of the people who remained at the harbor, the only ones who were not mages were Sandal and Isabela. The rest of the watchers were mages. Their force spells could do little now; the ship was out of range of a direct push, but they could help it along slowly by creating artificial currents and low waves. Anders and Caitlyn kept sharp eyes on the bobbing hulk of the Vengeance, seemingly a battered and adrift wreck, secretly a lethal bomb attached to more bombs that trailed in its wake.
"It's close enough."
Anders' voice was barely louder than a mutter, but Caitlyn heard him.
"I should set it off now before they figure out that something is wrong." He gazed back at the other mages, then his wife. His expression was deadly serious. "Get back. We do not want to be on the edge."
Merrill spoke up. "Why..."
"The waves," Isabela said quietly. She was already heading toward a high point.
Anders nodded. "Put up protective shields. The strongest kind you can make. The waves that this blast will generate could take us out to sea."
"The Gallows..." Caitlyn began.
"Will be fine. It's a Tevinter fortress occupied by mages. I'm worried about us. All right! This is it! Shields up!"
As Caitlyn, Merrill, and the others encased themselves and Isabela in rigid magical bubbles, Anders rose to his feet and focused in intense concentration. The light of Justice crackled on his neck, his face, glowing in his eyes. He held out his hands in a curved grasp, as if he were holding a crystal orb. A spell bloomed between his palms, a light blue glow.
Through the conduit of the rune's memory-form in the Fade, Justice connected the spell to the inactive electricity rune that Sandal Feddic had created.
A rune that was now bolted to the interior of the Vengeance's hull, the conductive chain attached and thousands and thousands of pounds of blasting powder directly atop it.
At a distance in the harbor, the rune crackled with lightning.
The chain lit up vividly white, as bright as the moon, charge following its path almost instantly to set off the lesser bombs that bobbed across the harbor, directly in front of the line of enemy ships.
The floating bomb that was the Vengeance exploded in a cataclysm of red and white light.
The thunderclap followed, a boom loud enough to wake Kirkwall.
The blast was as big as Anders had predicted. The Sister Amity and fifteen other ships nearest it were obliterated in a searing explosion, reduced to splinters in less than a second. The small party at the table never even knew what happened.
The small bombs exploded almost at the same time as the Vengeance. One of them happened to have drifted directly underneath a midsize carrack, blasting it to pieces as well. The others exploded doing damage, sending ships nearby reeling. Debris from the blast rained down, every shard of wood a hazard in its own right.
The blast also deafened everyone who was within a certain radius of the big explosion, rupturing eardrums instantly. Captains and crews of the damaged ships scattered wildly, dodging sharp and sometimes flaming pieces of debris, toppling over from their loss of equilibrium due to sudden deafness—or the waves that the explosions had produced. Foam and seawater splashed onto decks where soldiers often scrambled on their hands and knees to try to save their ships.
The blast was shocking from the vantage point of the harbor as well. Caitlyn gasped, stunned at the size and brightness of the main explosion. The magical shield she had put up around herself and Anders did not block out sound, and her ears were ringing from the thunderclap.
As Anders and Isabela had expected, the blasts—all of them, but especially the main one—had produced waves. In the harbor, these waves crashed against the damaged, hobbled enemy ships, knocking them about. One of the waves, though, was heading straight for the docks. Caitlyn grimaced and closed her eyes, bracing herself as the white crests approached—
The wave crashed against the mages' bubbles, splashing upon them as if the bubbles were glass windows, but no one's shield broke.
When the wave receded, she gaped at the sight in the harbor: a towering cloud rising from the sea, fanning out and forming the shape of a mushroom.
She turned to Anders, who looked worn out from the magical effort required but grimly proud of himself and Justice. Without hesitating, she embraced him. He wrapped his arms around her in silence, both of them contemplating what had just happened.
The rumble was audible throughout Kirkwall, even as far away as the north wall. Aveline and Fenris waited, eyeing the southern horizon through spyglasses. When the blast came, there was no mistaking it.
"Maker's breath!" Aveline exclaimed as the thunderclap rumbled. The walls did not shake, however, and she did not waste a second. "Teams! Fire the wicks!"
It was deemed advisable to light the wicks with matches rather than spells, because the flame's size could be easily controlled with matches, and the danger of an accidental explosion was too great to take chances. The teams of soldiers struck their matches and set the wicks ablaze. The bombs were already loaded into trebuchets, and now, they had only seconds to launch them so that they would be in enemy territory when they exploded.
"Launch!" Aveline roared.
The heavy machinery creaked and cranked as the trebuchet teams released the bombs. With the metaphorical timer ticking down, it seemed to Aveline and Fenris as though it took forever—but then the bombs were released, wicks sizzling with sparks.
The enemy army on the north side was already unnerved by the thunderclap that had just sounded. The walls blocked their view of what had happened in the harbor, so they had no idea. They just knew that this was not a stormy night and could not account for it.
They soon learned, as smaller booms exploded through the air around them.
It did not take but five explosions in the enemy army camp to send them into a frenzy of panic, terror, and confusion.
Aveline smiled grimly and gave the orders for another round.
"We can't stand against this!"
"It's Qunari! It's their stuff! Those apostates got it somehow!"
"Cravens! We are the Maker's own army! The bulwark against heresy and apostasy! All we need is faith!"
"You think Bret's unit didn't have enough faith? That's why they were blown to bits? They weren't praying hard enough?"
"We will not abandon our navy—"
"The navy is gone, you fools!"
In the enemy camp, chaos and panic reigned, but this last shout—the report of an officer from the eastern wall who had scrambled to this camp—silenced the rest of the shouts.
The officers gaped at him. "What?" exclaimed the captain of the forces camped on the north side, the one who had questioned if prayer would have saved those soldiers who died in the rain of explosions.
"They sent something out big enough to blow up our ships! They're gone! That's what that thunder was! They've been making this stuff, this substance of the Void itself, right under our noses! Who knows how much more they have?"
As if in answer to the question, another five bombs from the Kirkwall trebuchets landed in the camp, exploding barely thirty feet away from the tent where this conversation was taking place.
The captain of the Starkhaven-Tantervale army made his mind up at once. "Retreat!" He brought out his bugle and sounded it loudly.
The enemy captain's order was loud enough that Aveline could hear it from the ramparts. A bloodthirsty smile spread across her face. War was terrible, but she was a soldier, and she understood what it was—and did it well. "Pursue them!" she commanded. "You know your orders! Chase them to Lighthouse Point!"
A roar of triumph erupted from the ramparts as the Free Mages and Kirkwall Militia prepared to move out.
Later.
The siege was finally lifted.
What was left of the enemy army had fled in terror, heading north rather than going to Lighthouse Point, leaving their fellows to fend for themselves against the horrifying weapon of the hated apostates. Aveline, Fenris, Petra, and the others had decided that liberating the Point took priority. A group of mages, archers, and crossbowmen pelted the stragglers of the fleeing enemy with projectiles, jeering at them all the while. Then they continued the rapid march to Lighthouse Point, preserving the remaining bombs for the four thousand dug in at the Point.
When they arrived, the Markham forces were approaching from the east. The enemy army, four thousand strong here, was still dug in at their trap-filled trenches—but Kirkwall now had a weapon that rendered their traps pointless. Aveline had given the order to light two bombs and lob them directly into the trenches, making sure that the Markham commanders could see.
The blasts had sent the enemy forces scattering in terror, just like their fellows outside Kirkwall—straight into the maw of the Kirkwall-Markham-Hercinia united army. The Margrave and Margravine of Markham and Hercinia had sent nearly every able soldier they had, clearly trusting Caitlyn's word, and this enabled the numbers of the allied armies to match those of the enemy that were camped here. But the magical power of this army, now liberated from the confines of a besieged Kirkwall, plus the terrifying bombs, made the difference. They took nearly two thousand prisoners of war, marching them to all three cities following the recapture of Lighthouse Point.
Seven ships had managed to survive the initial blasts and the chaos that had followed in their wake. These ships had quickly picked up maritime survivors and sailed home to carry the horrifying and devastating news to their leaders.
The world had changed. What this new type of warfare would mean was a question yet to be answered, especially since the war itself had not yet ended.
But in Kirkwall, for the time being, there was cause for celebration.
The Keep.
Celebratory parties were taking place all over the city to mark the end of the siege, the reopening of trade, and the military supremacy that many believed the new weapon would bring to Kirkwall. The mages were partying at the Gallows or their houses, the soldiers at the guardhouses along the wall or their houses, and in the Keep, the Viscountess, her family, and her friends were putting on a feast for the folk of Hightown. She would have preferred a private banquet, or one with the mages, as she had held after the victories earlier in the war, but she understood the political need to appease the well-to-do after such an unpleasant experience as a siege.
Anders was grinning ear to ear, thoroughly enjoying himself. Everyone now knew that the blasting powder was his brainchild, and Caitlyn was happy to see him showered with praise and just happy. Even Justice had allowed him a bit more freedom than usual. After Anders had become drunk one night in Dragon 9:33 and had nearly killed a Templar in the Hanged Man for insulting Caitlyn, the spirit had not allowed him more than a couple of drinks at a time, to prevent intoxication. Justice was feeling a bit more relaxed tonight, and Caitlyn could tell. Her husband was almost giddy from Bannorn whiskey.
She gazed out across the table. Anders, their children, her mother, cousin, uncle, and all of her close friends—including Isabela and Fenris, who so often had been away from Kirkwall over the years—were here. The only living person who was missing from this happy occasion was Carver, she thought. It was a rarity that they were almost all here, celebrating and having fun. A lump formed in her throat at that idea.
When the war ends, it'll be better, she hoped.
At last, people stopped eating and drinking, their bellies too full to continue. Caitlyn smiled. She prepared to give a closing speech—but, to her surprise, Petrice was rising instead. The hall grew quiet to let her speak.
"The Maker has blessed this city and this cause," the Grand Cleric announced. "Against all odds, we have endured and defeated a siege."
The nobles cheered.
"While we certainly owe much to the leadership of Viscountess Hawke, General Hendyr, and our other leaders," she continued, "and always to the Maker for turning His gaze upon His children with the spark of inspiration, worldly credit for this weapon must go first and foremost to one individual. Lord Consort Anders, if you will please stand."
The nobles applauded as Anders, still beaming, rose to his feet. He bowed politely and gave a wave to the crowd, eliciting more applause.
"Just over five years ago, I declared Caitlyn Hawke the Champion of this city for her courage, leadership, and valor in defeating an attack by heretics. But with all due respect to Viscountess Hawke," Petrice continued, "the defeat of this siege was at least as critical as the defeat of the Qunari. Hence, tonight, the twenty-seventh of Wintermarch in the fortieth year of the Dragon Age, I name a new Champion of Kirkwall. Anders—receive your honors."
The hall erupted into applause as Anders accepted a medal from the priest. Caitlyn was beaming, her face almost hurting from the smile, as he sat down beside her.
"Wow," he whispered to her as she gave him a kiss on the cheek in front of everyone. "Champion of Kirkwall. Now I know how you feel."
Notes: This was inspired by the wildfire-laden bait ships in the Battle of the Blackwater in A Clash of Kings. If I may admit it, I rather like the symbolism of the Vengeance packed with Anders' explosive too. And I hope everyone enjoyed seeing Anders named the new Champion of Kirkwall for blowing something up.
It seems implausible to me that Anders could have packed the Chantry with enough explosive to generate a blast as big as we see in canon. However, look up magazine (or powder house) explosions. They were rather horrific. This could definitely happen with thousands of pounds of it. And on that note, mushroom clouds happen because of heat and don't require a nuclear blast.
I have to give credit to Gene Dark on Twitter, AO3, and here for the bit with Caitlyn and Aveline worrying about Darktown. Gene's excellent AU with the Tabris Origin, Death and the Maiden, proposes suppression from Orzammar due to safety concerns (especially if the casteless got it) as an explanation for why the dwarves do not use this explosive.
