The approach to the castle hardly instilled confidence in Jacquelyn. They had been fighting the undead for what felt like every step of the way, wading through stinking wetland and pelting rain. She'd had the hope that maybe, just maybe, the final approach to the castle, and the Inquisition's people within, would be easier. It was a silly hope, she'd known that, but it didn't make her feel any better about the sight before them. There were undead all over the place, thicker here than almost anywhere else in the Fallow Mire. Her footsteps faltered and a sigh escaped her.
"More undead," she muttered. "Great."
"Don't worry about them," Cullen told her. "There are few enough of them that we can just make our way straight to the castle if we don't bother to fight them."
"If we engage them in combat, more will come," Cassandra added, eyes scanning the murky waters around the place. "We should just make a run for it."
"Yeah, but what about getting out again?" Sera asked. "If we don't deal with them now, what's gonna happen?"
"We can cross that bridge when we get to it," Cullen looked at Jacquelyn. "At the end of the day, the call is yours. We'll follow your lead."
"I suppose we are making a break for it, then. We can deal with the undead once our men have been saved."
"Okay," Sera grumbled, "but what about when we get in there and we have a bunch of Avvar tryin' to kill us? We fighting them, or running straight on through?"
Jacquelyn smiled, shaking her head slightly. She struggled to understand how Sera's mind worked, sometimes.
"The Avvar, we will need to fight," she said, as though talking to a small child. "If at all possible, try to avoid killing them. But our priority is rescuing our people. If lethal force is required, then use it."
"Are you ready for this?" Cullen asked her quietly, his soft brown eyes meeting hers.
"With you at my side, I am ready for anything," Jacquelyn replied before turning to face the undead before them. She didn't see the conflicted look on Cullen's face as she looked beyond the horde of undead to the castle. Behind those walls were members of the Inquisition, her people. It was her duty to bring them home, and nothing would stop her fulfilling that duty.
The only good thing about their approach was that there weren't too many Avvar sentries guarding the gates. Dispatching the two archers and warrior was a simple matter, and from there it was a simple matter of raising the portcullis to the castle beyond. It almost felt too easy, as though they were being invited in. Jacquelyn supposed that, in the Avvars' own strange way, perhaps they were. After all, Harding had said that their leader wanted to fight Jacquelyn himself. Jacquelyn wasn't the type of person to begrudge people of their own beliefs. But, having said that, she also held the strong belief that there was only one true god, and that was the Maker. In a way, she understood the Avvar. It seemed to her that they held a belief as strong as she held her own. If someone had started making claims that sounded even half as wild as Jacquelyn's claims of being the Herald of Andraste, perhaps Jacquelyn would have reacted in a similar fashion. But she was the Herald, and Inquisitor. Despite everything that had been happening recently, she knew this in her heart. She would not let the Avvar challenge that truth.
She used that determination as she marched on. She knew that she would not fall to the Avvar, but that didn't mean her people were in any less danger. She knew that they might not find their people alive. It didn't change anything for her. If they were dead, then they would be avenged, and their bodies recovered. Even if she could not bring them home immediately, she would make sure they found rest.
Beyond the first wall there was a group of three Avvar, camping around a fire. They were obviously ready for the Inquisition group, and perhaps it was Jacquelyn's overconfidence that did it. She thought they were all either dead or incapacitated, letting her guard down for just a moment. This was seeming easier than she had expected it to be, and she took advantage of the peace between battles to take note of how her companions were doing. They didn't know what would be waiting for them up ahead, and she needed to know that they were still conserving their energy. The next thing she knew, she was sprawled on her back, an Avvar warrior looming over her, weapon held high. Adrenaline shot through her and she rolled to get out of the way, but it didn't matter. The blow never would have come.
"Are you all right?" Cullen asked, pulling his sword from the Avvar and stepping past to check on her. Jacquelyn looked from the body to Cullen and nodded.
"Yes. Thanks to you."
Cullen smiled at her, resting his hand on her arm for a moment before he turned back to the others in their small group. It was only a small moment of affection, but Jacquelyn appreciated it all the same. Cullen often seemed to draw back from her a bit when they were around others.
"We need to keep moving," he said, using his commander's voice. Jacquelyn liked that voice. She liked how it made him seem so confident, how it made people want to listen to him. Obey him. She appreciated it.
"They'll probably know we're here by now, and that could put our people in greater danger," he continued, and Jacquelyn looked up the hill.
"If they have not already been disposed of, then they should be fine," she said. "It is me that the Avvar hold a problem with, not a few scouts from the Inquisition."
"Perhaps," Cullen conceded, "but perhaps not. If they think that killing our people will weaken your resolve or distract you, then I don't doubt that they would try to press that advantage."
Cullen had a point, and a good one. Jacquelyn wasn't too proud to admit that.
"Best not let them believe that, then," she said, continuing the trek up the final flight of stairs, not putting her sword away. She didn't know exactly what would be awaiting her when she reached the top, and she didn't want to be caught in an ambush unarmed.
She needn't have worried about an ambush. The Avvar chief greeted her loudly and somewhat proudly.
"Herald of Andraste, face me!" he cried, Jacquelyn regarding him closely. "I am the hand of Korth himself."
Jacquelyn didn't exactly know who Korth was, but it didn't matter at that moment. She just had her eyes trained on her target. He was a large man, as most Avvar seemed to be, and she wasn't entirely looking forward to fighting him. He looked almost scarily strong, and he probably had the advantage. But he wielded a hammer, which she knew was a slower weapon. She could use that.
"Could you please keep the other Avvar busy?" she asked her companions. "I will handle him."
"Are you sure?" Cullen looked about as dubious as Jacquelyn felt.
"It is me whom he wishes to fight. And so he shall. But I will need the other Avvar kept busy. I need to be able to focus my attention on him."
"We'll be ready to step in as soon as you need us to," Cassandra told her, motioning to Sera and Vivienne. She charged off into battle with a loud war cry, Jacquelyn stepping towards the Hand of Korth. Cullen reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her and turning her to face him.
"You're absolutely certain you want to face him alone?" he asked, his face earnest. "Because if anything happens to you -"
"Everything will be all right, Cullen," Jacquelyn smiled at him, taking his hand in hers and giving it a squeeze. "If I cannot defeat one Avvar, then how will I defeat Corypheus? If things look to be taking a bad turn, I am expecting you and the others to step in. But as it is, we need to isolate him. As much as anything, I am only hoping to keep him distracted for long enough that his support is removed from battle."
Cullen still didn't look too happy about it, but he nodded in understanding before moving to join Cassandra and the others. Jacquelyn once more turned to face her enemy, head held high, sword at the ready.
Cullen pushed open the wooden door, revealing the Inquisition's members behind it. They were all there, in reasonable condition despite everything. Jacquelyn could only see one person more seriously wounded, the rest only having what appeared to be cuts and bruises. All of them seemed to have been receiving at least some sustenance. Jacquelyn had to be thankful for that, at least. Whatever else the Avvar might be, at least they had been treating their prisoners with some modicum of respect. Even if it wasn't much, food and water was better than nothing.
"Herald of Andraste, Commander," one of the scouts greeted, relief thick on her voice.
"We have dealt with the Avvar," Jacquelyn told her, a gentle smile on her face. "Is everyone all right?"
"Yes, Your Worship. The injured need some rest, but we can return on our own."
"There's no need for that," Cullen assured them. "We'll go with you back to the main camp, make sure that you don't get attacked by the dead."
Jacquelyn nodded in agreement, casting her eyes over her people. She would rather make sure that everyone got back to the camp, and possibly even to Skyhold. Perhaps more than that, she wanted to get out of this damned swamp, and the new dead she left in it.
"I can't believe the Herald came for us," one of the men said, a mix of gratitude and wonder in his voice.
"I told you she'd come," another replied, gentle and kind. Jacquelyn looked over them all once again, then looked over to Cullen. He was also taking stock of their people, looking like he was mentally taking note of the injuries before he noticed Jacquelyn's gaze. He blinked a couple of times, almost as though in surprise, then smiled at her and nodded. She smiled back, turning and stepping forward to help a man with an injured leg to his feet. She wasn't looking forward to their journey back to camp through the rain and the mud, but at least she now knew that her people were safe.