Chapter 111: Overload

My nose started pouring blood as I picked up the mana of the fourth emissary. My vision went blurry, my balance was off, and I started to sway unsteadily on my feet. One more, Sierra. Just one more. Not that I had any idea what I’d do with the general once the emissaries were subdued, but I could only take it a step at a time.

I spent a moment trying to adjust to the flood of mana, removing my helmet and gripping my nose to stem the bleeding, before reaching out once again. I was so distracted by my headache as I stripped the last emissary that I didn’t feel the change, didn’t notice what was happening with the darkspawn around me. I was completely oblivious to the approach of the general, who’d clearly been watching the horde move around me and had deduced my location.

I looked up just in time to see an axe descending towards me, with not enough time to dodge, and I closed my eyes in resignation. I’m going to die on this God-forsaken hill. I’m sorry, Alistair. But the blow never came, and I opened my eyes again as a sword deflected the axe away from me.

I was roughly shoved aside by an armoured figure, and fell on my ass – between the pressure in my head and the push, I completely lost my balance. When I managed to regain my equilibrium, I looked up to see Duncan standing over me, engaging the now-enraged general. And then the rest of the noise from the battlefield filtered in to my awareness, and I looked around in a daze to see Riordan beheading one of the emissaries whose mana I held, while Conrad and Loghain stood back to back fighting a group of hurlocks. Further away, a group of soldiers fought their way through the horde to reach Cailan, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The battalion had arrived, and brought a group of Wardens with it.

I scrambled to my feet, finding the daggers which I’d dropped in my fall, the pressure in my head now more bearable as the emissaries were slowly eliminated; I pivoted back and grabbed the mana from the darkspawn-from-hell Duncan was fighting just in time to see the Warden Commander freeze as the general shouted in his face, something unintelligible and unspeakably dark.

He just stood there, looking confused, as the general’s axe was embedded deeply in his side.

I shouted, my voice lost in the clashing of swords and the battle cries around me; it felt like slow motion, like something out of a cheesy action movie, as Duncan slowly crumpled to his knees, then began tipping backwards to the ground.

I felt the pressure in my head flow out around me before I knew what I was doing, and the remaining three emissaries and the general were knocked off their feet by a powerful blast wave that completely missed Riordan, Loghain, and the rest of the people around me. The emissaries landed in pools of their own blood, none of them rising again, but the general rolled over, clearly dazed but alive. He was bleeding from the mouth and one eye was badly damaged, the socket deformed, the black eyeball drooping, but he slowly struggled up to his knees, trying to stand.

I screeched angrily, gripping my daggers and preparing to lunge at it, when a great sword descended in my peripheral vision and the general’s head flew a couple of feet, bouncing a little ways down the hill; arterial spray of darkspawn blood arced out and covered me as I looked over to see Cailan standing, chest heaving with exertion, leaning on his blade for support.

I turned back and dropped to my knees at Duncan’s side; Cailan did the same, and helped me roll him over to rest against my lap. I wasn’t surprised to see his vacant stare, blood trickling out of his slack mouth, but I had hoped he could have survived. I cried and wrapped my arms around his ruined torso as Cailan pulled the heavy axe out of his wound and dropped it. With shaky hands, I closed the eyes of the man I wished had been my father, then buried my face against his shoulder and broke down completely.

I sobbed for what could have been only a minute, or might have been an hour – I couldn’t honestly say one way or the other – until finally Cailan and Riordan approached me. Cailan pulled me into his arms as Riordan gently, reverently shifted the body I held back to the ground. The Warden pulled off his own cloak and threw it over the corpse, before setting the two swords Duncan had fought with across his chest.

Cailan lifted me to my feet, and without letting go, half-dragged, half-carried me towards the camp behind us. The army that had arrived had mopped up the rest of the darkspawn that ambushed us, and the dead were being painstakingly laid out for later cremation; I didn’t really register any of it as Cailan lowered me to the ground in what I realised had been set up as a makeshift infirmary. All around me, warriors screamed or moaned in pain from horrific injuries, while the remaining mages, Irving and a couple of others, did their best to tend the wounds.

Irving came over immediately, kneeling in front of me and asking me something; the question didn’t even penetrate the haze I was surrounded by. All I could think of was that Duncan had died because of me. And now someone else would have to die to slay the Archdemon, someone who could have been saved, maybe my brother, or my husband, or one of the others I’d come to love like family over the last year, and it was my fault.

I twitched, startled, when Irving’s magic aura swelled and he ran healing magic over me; it didn’t last long before the exhausted-looking mage stood and spoke briefly with Cailan. The words ‘shock’ and ‘comfort’ penetrated the mist around me, and then Irving was gone. I felt Cailan settle to the ground behind me, pulling me back into his arms, as he started whispering comforting nonsense in my ear.

I finally stirred when Riordan knelt in front of me again, offering me the daggers I had dropped when I had seen Duncan fall.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Riordan had to lean in to hear me over the noise around us. “Pardon?”

“It’s my fault,” I elaborated. “I’m sorry.”

“Sierra-” Cailan began, but Riordan silenced him with a gesture.

I continued sadly, “I got him killed, and now you’re going to die.”

Riordan sighed and took my hand. “It’s no one’s fault but the darkspawn’s, and the one to blame is dead. You are not responsible for his death, any more than you will be responsible for mine. And, my Lady, I was always going to die in this fight. I do not wish to return to Orlais to await my Calling, and we both know I don’t have much time. As for Duncan ... you thought of him as a father, and he thought of you as a daughter. I cannot imagine any way he would rather die than to protect his little girl. I know he is at the Maker’s side, and I guarantee he does not harbour any regrets about how he died.” His voice cracked and wavered on the last words.

Surrounded by screaming, injured men, my brother-in-law and my honourary father’s brother-at-arms held me while I cried, mourning the bravest, best man I’d ever known.

Finally Cailan was called away, and it forced me to start pulling myself together. Riordan, looking as depressed as I felt, offered me a scrap of cloth to dry my eyes and blow my nose, then gave me a hand up.

Something occurred to me as I looked at his sympathetic face. “Wait, what are you guys doing here? You’re supposed to be taking down the Archdemon.”

Riordan nodded. “So far, it hasn’t come close enough for the mages or bolas to get a hit. We wondered if it might wait until the generals were both dead to come nearer. We were wandering more-or-less aimlessly, killing ogres and the like, looking for the general, until we heard you’d been attacked. Duncan,” he swallowed, his voice cracking slightly, “immediately knew it would take the intelligence of a general to pull off such a feint. And we were the closest Wardens, so we came to ensure the general was killed.”

My head snapped up, glancing around at the other Wardens where they were aiding the injured to reach the infirmary. “Then you need to get back out there!” I hissed. “What if the Archdemon lands while you’re here? Don’t wait for me. I’ll be fine. Go, go, go!”

I made a shooing gesture, and Riordan tried to chuckle, almost succeeding. “Going, your Highness. Right away.”

I didn’t waste any time herding the four of them together. They spent a few moments checking their light packs for supplies, and I ran to get them a few extra potions from the camp. As they were all shouldering their bags, I felt a foreboding, sickening presence, and looked up in time to see the Archdemon fly over. Its scales reflected almost blood-red in the torchlight; it let out an ear-shattering roar, presumably angry that its general had been killed, and I shuddered. It circled once, then winged off in the direction of the main body of the horde.

“Hurry!” I demanded; Loghain began muttering at me in irritation, even as the three Orlesians laughed at my antics. I began ushering them down the hill, when a voice rang out behind me.

“Hold!”

I sighed and turned; the Wardens all bowed to Cailan, while I just scowled at the delay. His news made my mood even worse.

Cailan ignored my glare. “Riordan, the surviving nobles and this battalion will accompany you to the rest of the army. You’re going to need all the help you can get, and we need a new command post – we’re too exposed on this hill. Please be ready to march in ten minutes.”

Riordan nodded as Cailan turned to walk away, and I heard Loghain rumble some sort of complaint, quickly quashed by the senior Warden. I followed the blond monarch as he headed back up the hill.

“Cailan...”

He turned. “I know, Sierra. But they’re not going to make it to the Archdemon, as it stands. We’ve had news of another group breaking off from the main body of the horde and heading towards us. We need to engage them before they can over-run the encampment – we need to protect the injured and get the Wardens where they need to go. They’ll never make it through with that group between them and the Archdemon.”

“If they down the Archdemon before Riordan gets there...”

“It’ll be fine. There are almost a dozen more Wardens down there somewhere.”

I shot him a horrified look, and then realised from his confused frown that Duncan hadn’t been as honest as he had implied. Not that he ever fully said, he just let me assume... I struggled to stifle the irritation that flared. Don’t speak ill of the dead.

“Cailan, the Warden who kills the Archdemon ... he dies. Alistair is down there. Aedan is down there! If Riordan doesn’t get there in time...”

Cailan’s puzzled look morphed to one of pure horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought Duncan had!” Stupid Grey Warden secrets. “Cailan – we need to hurry.”

He nodded and raced off towards the milling nobles, shouting orders and demanding greater speed. I grabbed my own pack from the camp, my Earth items tucked in the bottom, rations and potions on top for ease of use. I realised I’d left my daggers somewhere, and headed back to the infirmary to find them lying amidst the injured.

The infirmary had gotten worse, since I’d walked away; there were men with missing limbs, head wounds, blood and guts spilling from ruined bodies, and I almost threw up as I retrieved my daggers and hurried away with alacrity. Greagoir approached me as I rushed, and I took a deep breath, hoping not to throw up on his boots.

“I saw what you did, with those emissaries.”

I sighed. “I lost the men you left with me. I had to do something.”

“Impressive work. One day I hope you will consent to teaching us that tactic.”

“Honestly, and I’m not trying to be rude, but I doubt it will work. I’m pretty sure I almost died trying to hold that much mana. Anyone with even slightly lesser resistance ... well, it either wouldn’t have worked, or they’d have gone down in a blaze of glory.”

He nodded, disappointed. “Well, anyway, well done.”

“Tell me Cullen survived?”

He glanced over at a group of identical, helmeted templars in matching armour; I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to tell them apart, but Greagoir nodded. “He’s fine.”

“Good. Don’t forget Kirkwall.”

He nodded again, and I excused myself to go back and sit beside Riordan, who was slumped on the hill, just waiting.

“Hey, where’s Morrigan, anyway?”

“Flying around somewhere. We wanted her to locate the Archdemon when it got close so she could direct us to it.”

“Ah.” I considered. “But ... does she know you’re over here?”

“I do.”

I jumped and swivelled to see the raven-haired witch smirking at me from behind.

“The beast has made two passes over parts of the army. There have been some burns, but none severe. I believe the bola launchers and Circle sheep are moving into position now. I suggest we move, immediately, if you still wish to arrive before it is downed.”

“We have to wait for the King,” I whined.

She scoffed. “He does not command the Grey Wardens, last I checked.”

“No,” Riordan responded before Loghain’s red-face could turn into an angry outburst, “but we have agreed to work together as a cohesive force. And especially now, without our Commander, we really don’t have much choice.”

“He’s not going to listen to a bunch of Orlesian Wardens,” Conrad opined, “never mind Loghain. And if the horde has moved as he says, he’s not wrong. We need him to have a hope of getting there.”

She sniffed, but I was surprised by the lack of response. She turned to me, taking in my tear-stained face. “Duncan perished?”

I just nodded, still too miserable, too guilty to talk about it.

“I am sorry.” She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “I shall go check on Aedan and Alistair.”

Riordan agreed, and she shifted back into a blackbird, taking off to sail effortlessly over the horde. I knew that checking on the others was her way of helping me in my grief, and I truly appreciated it. I briefly wished I’d had the presence of mind to give her one last hug, but I knew she wouldn’t want it anyway.

Finally, Cailan had the battalion ready to move. He put me in the middle with the other Wardens and himself, directing those at the front to move as quickly as possible to engage the horde, and hopefully allow the four Wardens to slip through in the chaos.

I’d never done a forced march; it was much different than the rather casual walking through the Bannorn I had become accustomed to over the previous year, and I was grateful for all the training and travelling we had done. Earth Sierra could never have kept up. We caught sight of the forerunners of the horde before long, and then we came across a last hill before the plain on which the rest of the army fought. Cailan halted us at the top of the hill, hoping to use the geography to our advantage, and even Loghain mumbled reluctant praise at the idea. The battalion got into formation, the single mage not left with the infirmary wagons began casting glyphs down the hill in front of us, and the soldiers drew their weapons, waiting expectantly. It took only a few minutes before we were fighting again.

These darkspawn fought with much less cohesion than the previous group we’d faced, proof that the generals were what provided the organization, and the battle wore on with fewer casualties than we had experienced earlier. The Wardens engaged an ogre and took it down, and then I lost track of them for a while.