Vengeance

Highever Castle – Shortly After One Bell Past Midnight

There was nothing quite so sweet as warm skin against your own bare flesh while you cuddled under a thick fur blanket. It was indeed a very cold night and even the smoldering braziers in the chamber couldn't entirely banish the chill. It took dear, sweet Dairren to do that. A little harmless flirting in the library escalated into a stealthy nocturnal liaison with the young squire in the main keep. In a half dream state Lady Alice Cousland cooed softly, feeling his cheek nuzzle up against the back of her neck. Oftentimes, her Mabari, hound, Cyrano, would sprawl upon her bed while she slept, but tonight, he was relegated to the woven rugs on the floor.

Fortunately, her father would be gone by dawn and her brother had already departed, taking the bulk of the Cousland army south to Ostagar to fight the Darkspawn. She dearly wanted to join them, to prove herself in real combat and to show her father that she deserved his love and respect. Instead, she decided to console herself in the arms of Lady Landra's son. Before they drifted off to sleep, Lady Cousland wondered how she would sneak Dairren out past the chambers of her mother and Fergus' young wife and son, but she knew she would figure something out. That might be a little embarrassing to explain.

Then, frantic barking intruded on her dream, intermingling with images of Dairen's hands caressing her soft skin along with her imaginings of racy books, banned by the Chantry. The barking persisted and she squeezed her eyelids, hoping that it was just an illusion from the Fade. It wasn't. Her eyes flickered open and she sat up with a grunt. As her mind focused, she saw Cyrano, up against the oak door, his ears perked up and his big body set in a fighting stance. Dairren was up a second later, his hand still perched on her waist.

The squire blinked and cleared his throat. "What's wrong with your hound? Doesn't he know what time it is?"

Lady Cousland knew Cyrano well enough to suspect that something was wrong. She'd raised him from the time that he was a pup and, though he was a mischievous one, he was fiercely loyal and knew a threat when he smelled one. Then, she could smell it too, the faint scent of smoke. "Something's amiss, Dairren. There's a fire somewhere."

The young man leapt out of bed before she could say anything and he rushed to the door and placed his hand against the wood. "It's still cool. I don't think that the fire-"

There was a distant crashing sound as if wood were being splintered and Alice jumped from under the quilt, her bare skin prickling in the chill air. Cyrano continued to growl and yap as she reached for her longsword and a dagger. "Dairren, wait-"

"I'll just take a peek outside to make sure it's safe, lady."

Before she could move, he unlatched the bolt and swung the door open. Just past Dairren, she could see armed men fighting. "What the…?" On one shield, she could see the brown bear on a quartered field of gold and white, the livery of the Arling of Amaranthine. It was Howe's men. Why would they…?

"Dairren, get ba-" she began to say as three arrows flew into the room. Two sank into Dairren's chest, burying themselves up to the quills and the third stuck into the bedpost near Lady Cousland's head. Her blood ran cold as she took cover behind the threshold to the door. Gravely wounded, Dairren struggled weakly, clutching at the shafts in his chest, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

A Howe soldier stepped through the door and drew his sword back to finish the young squire, but Cyrano was on him like a slice of beef in the larder. The hound leapt up and took the man in the throat, knocking his helmet off. He tried to pummel the dog in the head, but Lady Cousland stepped out and lopped his hand off at the wrist with a clean cut. She barely thought about how she hadn't even a moment to dress, much less don any armor when two more men squared off behind their shields.

"You'll bleed for that!" one growled, his teeth bared from under his bacinet helm. One man moved to her left to flank her and she let out a whistle. On cue, Cyrano barreled into the man's shield, knocking him back. The soldier tried to bash the massive hound away and only succeeded in opening himself up. Lady Cousland hammered him on the head, her sword glancing away, but knocking him senseless for a crucial moment.

She saw a flash to her right and brought her sword up to deflect the second man's cut at her head. As his blade glanced away, she powered a downward blow, slicing across the man's thigh under his shield. He staggered back, fighting for balance and Lady Cousland ducked under his guard and rammed the point of her dagger into his groin. He let out a horrible shriek and collapsed to the floor.

Lady Cousland took a quick breath and her eyes darted around, looking for other threats as Cyrano's snarls filled her ears. She took an engarde stance, crouched low, tips of her sword and dagger aimed at the commotion. A few feet away, her hound tore into the sword arm of the last attacker as he pounded the dog with his shield. She took a step forward, but an arrow sank into the man's neck, skewering him like a roast pig. For a moment, Alice was at a loss until another shaft flew into the opening of the man's helmet.

"Mother?"

At the door to the Teyrn's keep was Teyrna Eleanor Cousland, dressed in a leather brigandine, holding a bow. The Teyrna's eyes opened wide with an expression of horror as she saw her daughter's naked form. "Alice, did they…?"

It was then that the full realization of the attack sank in and Alice looked down at her bare skin, covered in blood. "No, mother, I was woken up by Cyrano and I had no time to dress before they attacked." She glanced back to her room to see Dairren lolling about on the floor, blood running from his mouth and nose. "Maker's breath, no!"

Leaving her mother, Alice raced back to cradle Dairren's head in her hands. "Dairren, no, hang on! I have some potions. Stay with me."

His eyes were unfocused as he reached up to touch her face. "Lady Cousland…I…. Please remember…," he whispered, blood gurgling up from his lips. His hand fell away from her cheek and he lay still.

She fell back on her behind, looking blankly at her hands, which were covered in blood. A sick, vile, churning feeling grew in her gut and her vision dimmed as if she were going to pass out. Lady Cousland had been trained by the finest fencing masters and had fought many duels, but she had never fought a real battle and had never seen someone die in battle. She tried to reach for her longsword, but her sticky hands shook violently and she could only paw at the weapon. She felt a hand on her shoulder and she pulled away as if she thought someone would strike her.

"Alice, you need to don your armor. We have to find Oriana and Oren and your father as well."

Lady Cousland choked down the taste of bile and nodded as if in a nightmare. Nearly numb, she felt her mother wiping the blood off of her body as she looked for the armor stand in her room. With a damp cloth, now soaked red, Eleanor Cousland washed away the last of the gore from her daughter's face and began to put a shirt over her head.

"I…I can finish, mother," Alice stammered. "Go find Oriana. Fergus will worry about his wife and son."

Eleanor's face was set grimly, her lips pressed together and her eyes narrowed. She made a single nod and rushed away. Gathering her wits, Alice quickly pulled on her underclothes and pulled a hardened leather cuirass from the stand. It was a finely crafted breastplate, nearly as hard as steel, but light with intricate etchings of rearing horses and eagles set into the leather. She pulled the piece over her head and secured the straps at her sides. With precision, born of endless practice, she pulled on cuisses to protect the thighs, greaves to protect the shins, vambraces and rerebraces to protect the arms, boots, and finally a steel helm with cheek guards and a nasal piece, known as a barbute.

She had just donned her helm when she heard an agonized shriek coming from nearby. Without a thought, Lady Cousland bolted up and rushed to her brother's room, expecting another fight. Instead, she saw her mother, kneeling on the ground, cradling Oren's head in her arms. Oriana lay slain nearby, obviously having tried to protect her son by warding off blows from Howe's men. Alice blinked, seeing her nephew and sister-in-law, foully murdered in their rooms. How much more horror could be heaped on the Couslands this night? Her knees went weak and she sagged against the wall as her mother wailed over the dead child. Even Cyrano whined his despair.

Fighting for breath, Alice licked her dry lips and forced her voice to be heard. "Mother, they are taking no prisoners for ransom. Howe means to murder us all." She felt a hot moisture building in her eyes and nose and she bit her lip hard. "If only I had woken sooner. If only I had pulled Dairren away. I…."

"No, my daughter. Nothing can be changed. We will have our vengeance."

Then, Lady Cousland heard a painful groan in the main hall and she walked numbly towards the sound. The Howe soldier that she had wounded in the earlier melee rolled about, gasping. Like the golems of legend, she approached him robotically and knelt down by his head. It looked like he was trying to say something, to beg for mercy, but she was beyond caring. Silently, she drew her poignard, a thick, triangular bladed dagger, designed for puncturing plate armor and she pushed it into his neck. As his eyes clouded over, she leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"Keep the Fade warm for Rendon Howe. We will have our vengeance."