Chapter 3: Changing History

I found the path the army had followed onto the field around Ostagar. Loghain's army had turned off, to head up to the cliff; that I knew. Instead I went down. As I walked, I started to hear a faint noise. At first I couldn't identify it, but after a bit, as it grew louder, I realised what it was. Screaming. The sound of metal clashing on metal. Swords hitting shields. Oh God, the battle had started. What on earth am I doing down here? I have no place in a battle. I barely know how to hold the sword I am carrying. What was I thinking?

Wait. What on earth? I'm not on earth anymore. I guess, on Thedas, I just don't have much of a self-preservation instinct. I kept moving, picking up my pace.

The sound of battle grew to a deafening roar as I approached the rear of the army. I swore as I realised that the army had already become disorganised, and instead of a united front, darkspawn squared off against individuals and small groups, fighting back-to-back, desperate. I'd read a forum that claimed that the reason Loghain left the King to die was that he realised that he couldn't be saved - that due to poor tactics, Cailan had left him no choice. I was indignant, when I read that, completely unwilling to admit that Loghain might be anything other than the evil bastard I thought he was. For the first time, I wondered if it might be true. I wasn't exactly a military strategist, but I was quite sure that the plan was to have the darkspawn all together, facing a united line of Fereldens, not this intermingled, chaotic swirl of violence.

Well, crap. The best laid plans, and all that, right? I checked that the beacon on the tower of Ishal wasn't yet lit - thank God, that means Duncan isn't dead yet, at least in theory. I secured my pack, hoisted that heavy damn sword, and started trying to weave through the crowd. It was getting dark, and I couldn't decide if that was an advantage or a curse. I took the opportunity to stab darkspawn in the back as I went, but didn't slow to engage with any of them. Somehow, all the darkspawn I came across were miraculously ... busy. I'll have to thank my guardian angel later. I just kept going, squeezing myself between groups of men and darkspawn. I assumed the darkspawn didn't think of me as a threat, and in the heat of battle, there were more important things to do than spend precious time slaughtering innocents. Or idiots. Whichever label worked. Apparently the men didn't see me as a threat either, frequently exclaiming in surprise when I scored a hit on a darkspawn about to cut off their head, or whatever. I probably am the only woman in this battle, I guess that shouldn't be a shock.

As I pushed forward, the ratio of men to darkspawn began to drop. Things were getting more dangerous for a lone woman weaving through the battle. Please don't die, please don't die... I had arrived, I could tell. I was near or at the front lines, and the people fighting desperately on either side of me were Grey Wardens, I was sure of it. These were by far the deadliest fighters I had seen so far, blocking and parrying, cutting down darkspawn with breathtaking grace. I was briefly distracted by the deadly beauty of the dance, but still the darkspawn seemed to ignore me. And then, I heard the roar. Oh God, an ogre, what was I thinking? There are fucking ogres up here.

Trying to look small and unthreatening, I squeezed further onward. I hadn't seen the King yet, in his golden armour, but if there were ogres ahead, I knew that's where he and Duncan would be. I caught sight of a flash of gold, peeking out from around a small knot of whirling death, and arrived just in time to see Cailan lifted, squeezed, by the largest, most gruesome monster I could imagine. The game sort of glossed over this a bit! Cailan was still alive, weakly struggling, and I could feel hostile magic in the swarm of darkspawn behind that thing. The air fairly crackled with it, just like at the farm. Lovely. Dozens of Emissaries. I felt more than saw the beacon atop the tower of Ishal light, and knew I was out of time.

I was desperate, though not nearly stupid enough to rush an ogre, when I caught sight of someone who could be no one else than Duncan, squaring off with what must have been a hurlock alpha. I screamed, fear and horror welling up in me, I'm too late, why am I always too late?and felt something ... weird. I looked between Duncan and Cailan and saw both men enveloped in an ethereal white light, just as the ogre squeezed Cailan one last time and threw him to the ground. All around me, Grey Wardens were dying. I was covered in blood, none of it mine, and screaming like I would never stop, and I felt the ground shake, wondering what had exploded nearby. But I realised that while it had messed with everyone's balance, only the darkspawn seemed to be truly troubled by it. It dawned on me: there must be a mage somewhere nearby. A friendly one. A wave of energy passed through the lines of darkspawn near me, their bodies slamming to the ground, blood bursting into the air in a red mist. And then I was falling, and I couldn't catch myself, and oh God, I'm going to die. The last thing I saw, before I blacked out, was Duncan crawling over to Cailan's still form, collapsing at his side. But I thought, just before the darkness took me, that I could see his chest rise and fall.

Still breathing.

I woke, actually expecting to be in my own bed at home. It seemed such a natural transition - black out in one world, wake in another. I kept my eyes closed, thinking to luxuriate in a soft bed for a few more minutes, wondering if I'd have bruises or cuts as fallout from the insane day I had spent in Ferelden. I certainly had a hell of a headache. But I must have been sleeping in a weird position, or something, because my back was sore, and something hard was poking my hip, and what sort of food did I leave rotting in the kitchen to smell like that? I opened my eyes and saw ... blue sky. I turned my head and groaned - there was an ogre corpse practically on top of me. The smell started to make sense.

Shakily, I sat up, my head clearing as the details of the battle returned. I filed away the fact that, apparently, I could black out here without returning home, deciding to think about it later. Somewhere that smelled better. Looking around, I saw that I was surrounded by dozens upon dozens of corpses. Most of them were darkspawn, but there were many people as well, and I just couldn't look at them, or I'd start screaming again. Nothing on the field was moving. There weren't even birds, and I figured that probably, even vultures were too smart to eat anything coming from this tainted cesspool. Wait. Do they have vultures in Ferelden?

I stood, my legs unsteady, but finally able to get the vantage point I needed. The last time I saw Duncan and Cailan was ... over there. I headed in the appropriate direction, eyes skirting around the mangled remains I was stepping over, until I found them. Duncan had made it to Cailan's side, sword still in hand. They were both bloody, and I stifled my horror to lean down and touch Duncan's face. It was warm, and he twitched with the slight contact. I screamed, clapping my hand over my mouth a second later, embarrassed. The living aren't supposed to be what's freaking you out right now. Keep it together, Sierra. Stepping around Duncan, I bent over to do the same for Cailan. I had to kneel to get the right leverage to shove his dented helm up to expose skin, but his breath briefly misted the metal surface, and I smiled. I had just witnessed that the events of the game could be changed.

My wandering eyes noted a mangled piece of human flesh, and my momentary elation faded. It hadn't changed enough, apparently. These two may have been saved, somehow ... but the fact that no one had checked for survivors meant there still wasn't anyone left standing at the end of the battle. I slumped down, a sob welling in my throat, when I heard a quiet groan. Duncan stirred, and I repressed the sob to crawl over and kneel beside him. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a few moments, and then with a grunt, he rolled over. Right into my lap. I swore, his armour digging into my thigh, but managed to catch myself before I fell back. His eyes snapped to my face, finally clear, but clearly confused. I extricated my leg from under him, knelt beside him with another pained oath, and offered him my hand. I pulled him up to sit, watching as he turned his head to see the rest of the battlefield. His gaze settled on Cailan, and I hurried to reassure him.

"He lives, Duncan. I don't know how badly he is injured - well, frankly, I don't know how badly you are injured, either, but he's still breathing." Duncan looked back at me, eyebrows pressing together.

"You have me at a disadvantage, my lady. Might I know your name? And how I, or rather, we, survived ... this?"

"Sierra. My name is Sierra. And I have absolutely no idea, to be honest. I was looking for you, but I got here too late, and then I blacked out."

"Yet somehow, I still live, as does the King. Unless there is someone else around I should thank, you appear to be the one to be grateful to."

"Um. Well. You're welcome, I suppose." I smiled, but those eyebrows remained furrowed, his gaze shifting to take in my jeans, boots, and coat, and my smile faltered.

"I'm quite certain I would have remembered you, had we met. May I ask how you know my name?"

"I, uh. Well." Sonofa... I had tried, but never did manage to come up with a convincing explanation for my presence here. "That's a bit of a long story. I think we should probably have that discussion somewhere safer. And preferably cleaner. And perhaps once we know how badly you and Ca ... the King are injured. Yes?"

His words said "Fair enough," though his eyes told me he wasn't fooled for a minute. Well, damn. Wish I'd been born more creative. I nodded, in silent recognition that we were going to have a very pointed discussion, once we were safe.

"So," I asked, "uh ... are you injured?" Duncan looked to be doing the same internal survey I had done upon waking.

"I think I may ... have a broken leg. And I recall being hit by an axe, but I don't appear to have a hole in my chest, so perhaps I dreamed that."

"Oh, God, really? Wow, you are so calm. I'd be screaming, I'm sure I would." I babbled as I looked down at his leg, trying to distract myself from what I suddenly knew I'd see when I lifted the leg of his armour/pant things, and... yeah, that's gross. There was bone sticking out, just above the ankle. My face paled, and I wondered briefly if I was going to puke. I felt a hand on my elbow, steadying me, and looked up to see Duncan studying my face. Again. "Sorry. I'm not great with, you know. Blood. And stuff." I closed my eyes, willing myself to pull it together.

"So ... I'm not sure that I'm going to be able to carry you out of here. Especially if Ca ... the King is also injured. I'm not sure what to do. Have you got any ideas?" Stop trying to call him Cailan, dumbass. He's a king, here. You use a title.

"I think I've got a poultice around here somewhere." Duncan patted his belt, reaching in to pull out a piece of linen cloth, wrapped around a small vial of something red. He handed it to me, and I took it, eyes widening in dismay. Pressing a hotkey for a health poultice did not prepare me for ... this.

"I ... right, sorry, I've never used one of these before. You're going to have to talk me through this."

Duncan's gaze scrutinised me again, and I fought not to blush again, to make him even more suspicious. He guided me through resetting the bone, basically by grabbing his foot and pulling as hard as I could - yuck, that crunch is gross and wow, can that man scream - and then to applying a few drops of the liquid into the wound directly and the rest onto the cloth, which then was tied tightly around his leg. I watched in amazement as the skin knit together and the pain written on his face eased. He waited a few minutes, then gingerly moved the leg. It was ... fixed. Not for the first time, I thought that magic is amazing. I wish we had some of it in my world.

I helped Duncan stand, still in awe that he could go from bone sticking out to walking normally in five minutes. Well, mostly normally. He definitely had a limp, but he was moving. Together we leaned over Cailan. Duncan was able to pry his helmet off, and we couldn't see any sort of head injury. As he undid the breastplate, however, it was obvious that the ogre hadn't merely squeezed the man. He had crushed him, right through his plate armour. He had an indent in his chest where the armour had squished him, and on the opposite side, the skin had split, a rib poking out. Again I fought not to vomit, but suddenly the man began to scream, and it took everything both Duncan and I had to hold him down, and the urge passed. Duncan swiftly reached behind Cailan's belt, pulling out another poultice, repeating the steps I had taken with his. He gave me a look, which I interpreted to mean that I was to hold him still, and Duncan pressed on the broken rib until it snapped back into place. Cailan screamed again, thrashing, and I had to lie across him, using my entire body weight to hold down his arms. Duncan poured in the solution, and then spread a larger poultice across his entire chest. He moaned, as the bandage was pulled tight, and then, thankfully, passed out.

His breathing had eased, and he now looked like he was merely sleeping. In the middle of a battlefield full of corpses. Ick. Reassured, Duncan took a few moments to survey the rest of the field. Still nothing moved around us, the air unnaturally still and quiet. His eyes lit on the ogre that had nearly killed Cailan, and he walked over to remove Cailan's sword from the thing's hide. Ew. I realised I had dropped my own scavenged blade, and spent a few minutes assessing the weapons within sight. I looked to Duncan for permission, and finally picked up a lighter, sharper looking sword that was still held by a nearby human hand. I shuddered as I accidentally bumped the cold, clammy flesh. I looked up, to find Duncan standing near where I'd been when I blacked out during the battle, looking around. The confusion on his face intensified as he studied the corpses around him, and he headed towards where I remembered the magic aura coming from. I followed behind him, studying his face instead of the grisly scene at my feet. He didn't say anything, but I caught him looking at me quizzically a few times when he thought I wasn't watching.

Cailan finally stirred again, and Duncan rushed back over to him.

"Your Majesty. Can you hear me?" Cailan seemed to be struggling to sit up, but Duncan held him down without difficulty. "Don't move. I don't know what other injuries you might have sustained."

"Duncan?"

"Yes, Sire. Relax, you're safe for now. How do you feel?"

"Like I've been chewed up and spat out by an ogre, actually." I couldn't help it. I giggled. The game didn't really prepare me for Cailan to have a sense of humour. A wry grin spread across Cailan's face, and he opened one eye, cautiously, to peer at me. "Off with her head. No one laughs at me." He winked, and even Duncan chuckled.

"I think I'd like to recommend you not execute the person who saved us. At least until we have a chance to question her properly. Sire." Cailan appeared to think about this for a moment, and then nodded, his grin widening.