Seeing how they were currently trekking through the woods, Zahra was given a much better of view of the forest surrounding them⊠if thatâs what she could even call it. How could trees grow so damned tall? Like towers, creeping up towards the sky. Reaching spindly fingers overhead and twining leaves like a great blanket-of-a-canopy. It was surreal to behold. Something she wouldnât have even imagined sailing the seas. Sheâd never been this far out. Never had any reason to. They went where the coin pouches rattledânone of their marks, or mercenary endeavors ever required them to traverse into Dalish territory. At least, not this far out.
She hummed low in her throat. An old tune. Mostly to keep her focused. Soft enough not to be a nuisance. Subtlety hardly mattered when two handfuls of clanking Templars followed at their heels, decked in their stifling steels. Leon led their little troupe, flanked by Sev and Lia. Sheâd chosen to walk alongside Estella because she had no clue where they were goingâmeeting Signy somewhere deeper into the woods, perhaps where no light at all would speckle through the trees. Sometimes, it felt like theyâd step into a hole, and be swallowed up by the shrubbery.
While her fingers still itched for her old, broken bow, sheâd taken her faithful rapiers with her. Best to sharpen her technique with her blades, and stop relying solely on her arrows. It was a hard lesson to swallow, and one that made her feel a little uncomfortable. At least until she acquired a new one. Sheâd tried some of the extra bows theyâd brought with them, but they felt wrong in her hands. Unbalanced. Awkward. Too small. Too light. Too heavy. Her tastes were precise, as if she were choosing a ship to sail. Some might say that they were all created equal, but she begged to differ. Stubborn or no, her habits often died hard.
Knuckling at her nose, she allowed her eyes to stray off to the side. Looking at nothing in particular. There were small noises, scuffles through the undergrowth. Twigs snapping. Subtle sounds that couldâve easily been mistaken for animals, if she hadnât known there were scouts skulking through the shadows, eyeing the horizon for anything that needed worrying about. So far, there was nothing to see. No trouble. Not yet. She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced sidelong at Stel, a grin growing on her face, âFigure itâs moot to ask if weâre there yet.â A pause, a beat and her smile widened, âBut while weâre walking⊠I donât suppose Iâm wrong to notice some romantic developments taking place.â
Truly. There was no wrong time or place to gossip about the Inquisitionâs respective paramours. Besides, it would make the time pass far quicker. For her, at least.
Estella, who had been dutifully concentrating on the road in front of them, eyes frequently scanning their surroundings with wariness, started at the statement, pulling a breath in through her teeth. Whether it was just because someone had spoken closer to her than she was expecting or due to the content of the words was initially hard to tell. Her eyes moved quickly to Zahra's; she cleared her throat. It was at that point that it became obvious what part of the verbal prodding was startling. Her blush, as it turned out, was a bit blotchy, darker over her cheekbones than anywhere else, with spots of color on her nose and forehead as well.
She glanced around, almost as though afraid someone else might have heard the inquiry. Leon and the others ahead were the most likely, but if they'd heard anything, they weren't giving any immediate indications. A look over her shoulder confirmed that Sev's templars were a bit too far behind to notice it over the sound of their own passage. Still, her voice was low when she replied, as though she were afraid of being heard. âI, um... yes. Or rather, no, you're not wrong." Estella cleared her throat again. âJust, um... maybe don't tell everyone." She looked genuinely concerned for a moment, almost unsure of what she was going to say.
âSome people wouldn't understand, you know?" Her voice dropped even further. âI'm not sure how to deal with that yet, and I don't wantâ" She paused awkwardly, her mouth pulling to one side. âI don't want him to deal with any trouble because of it."
Zahra raked a hand through her wild hair, effectively pushing it from her face. What was wrong with a little romance in their merry band of misadventures? Saving the world was exhausting enough. That everyone wanted it to be kept secret baffled her. While sheâd never been one for overt sweetness, she loved freely. Loudly. Without shame, or embarrassment. Apparently that wasnât so with everyone else. It felt like, as of recent, she was collecting secrets of the affectionate variety, adding them to her repertoire of things she must not speak of. What good was it if she couldnât openly tease both parties?
She was happy for them. That Stel allowed herself a little reprieve from all of her responsibilitiesâthat she could lean on someone, and lessen her burden. Friends were good for that⊠but sometimes, having someone behind closed doors, someone to hold hands with, was more, felt like more, in a sense. The smile smoothed itself out as she kept pace with Stel, and glanced over to Leon and Liaâs backs as they strode ahead. While there might have been a chance that they could hear their conversation, she was sure it wouldnât interest them much. Of course, maybe they were secret romantics, as well. Sheâd been wrong before.
âMy lips,â she made a gesture across her lips, and winked, âare sealed. Though I do believe more people would understand than youâd think.â An eyebrow raised. âIâm happy for you. You make a good pair.â The smile wobbled into a smirk as she drew nearer, and gently bumped her shoulder. Her voice had lowered to a coquettish whisper. A girlish, secretive coo, âSo, the pretty ones are your type. I wouldnât have thought.â
âErm..." The expression on Estella's face hovered somewhere between further embarrassment and something like exasperation. âThat's, uh... um." She seemed to be very much out of her element talking about this kind of thing. A huff escaped her, a wry smile twisting her lip. âLet me try this again. I... don't know about that last part, but the reason I asked you not to say anything wasn't because IâI know some people will understand. But if there are even a few who don't..." The smile fell away.
Estella shook her head faintly. âPeople have been killed for less, Zahra. And it's usually not the human. I'd rather have some kind of idea how to handle that before we actually have to." Her eyes fell to the ground beneath them. It took a few moments for her to snap herself out of it, but when she did, she managed another smile. âBut I trust you with the secret. So you can keep making fun of me if you want. I'm sure it's entertaining." There was a sort of gentle self-effacement in her expression; clearly she knew that how flustered she was wasn't how most people would handle the same situation.
Zahra lifted a hand and rubbed at her chin. While she couldnât profess to understanding why it was such an issue, she supposed she could see where Stel was coming from. Ruling a kingdom aside, being the Inquisitor was similar to royalty. There were potential weaknesses, slits in her armor that could be taken advantage of. The world wasnât a simple place, that much she understood. There was a difference between doing whatever you wished on the seas, and facing the world head-on with an army at your back. Perhaps, one day, it wouldnât be an issue. She hoped so, at least.
Her smile tempered itself. Drew back into something much smaller. That much was true. She made another humming noise, and nodded her head. The fact that Ves was elven hadnât eluded her. That it might mean something to someone else had, though. Her entire crew was composed of misfits, belonging to all walks of life. If anyone tread on their toes, she made them regret it. Pirates hardly discriminated against specific races, though sheâd seen her fair share. Slavers, raiders composed solely of Qunari. Humans. These slights were usually solved with the sharp edge of an arrow. Unfortunately, it wasnât a luxury the Inquisition could, or would, allow.
However, she didnât doubt that sheâd do the same for them, if it came down to it.
âI suppose, Iâll have to settle for teasing you in secret as well,â she lamented with a softer smile, bereft of its toothy edge, âThe Inquisition makes for difficult affairs.â For her sake, she wished it werenât so. To fear backlash for caring for someone else⊠sheâd never feared such a thing before. Vulnerabilities, however. She had plenty. âI meant it. When I said I wouldnât breathe a word.â
There was another pause as she gave Stel some room and stepped off to the side, scanning the treeline as they walked. âI may even spare you the embarrassment. Iâm no monster.â Crass as she was, even she had caught on to Stelâs discomfort. Her concerns, her worries. This, she assumed, was not familiar territory for her. She cleared her throat and turned her attention towards the canopy, âIâm, uh⊠sorry if I was insensitive.â
âOh, don't be." Stel smiled more fully at that. âThis may sound strange, but I'm glad you think of it like that. Just something to tease a friend about like you would with anyone. It's reassuring, in a way."
Anything else they might have said was precluded by the fact that they seemed to have reached their destination. The Avvar scout, Signy, was already present, arms crossed over her chest, a longbow across her back, the quiver at her hip just in front of a short, machete-like blade. She'd braided her ginger hair to her head, exposing the tattoos on the left side of her neck. As they approached, she offered a nod and a casual salute, motion smooth and almost laconic. She didn't bother much with preamble. "Expecting a caravan soon." She turned dark eyes down the road behind them for a moment, then returned them to the group, shifting her weight slightly to the opposite foot. "The land makes a choke point here, but the cover's a fair bit back from the road, as you can see."
A gesture with her chin drew their attention to the fact. The road cut between two small hills here, providing ample opportunity for ambush, but the nearest trees were a fair distance up, and the ground cover with them. It meant anyone trying to enter melee would probably be seen in considerable advance of getting to the caravan. "Not sure how that's going to complicate things for us, but there isn't a better spot anywhere we saw." She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I've got the others up the trees with bows, but that doesn't look like it'll work with our friends here." She raised an eyebrow at the heavily-armored templars.
SĂ©verine made her way up to the edge of the natural cover the foliage provided, peering down a moment at the road to confirm Signy's words. The other templars formed up quietly, awaiting her opinion. "Going to be hard to make this clean," she said, grimacing. She turned back to face the others. "Arrows won't take down Reds quickly, even well placed ones."
"What about a lot of well-placed arrows, all at once?" Lia asked, eyebrow raised. She had her own longbow in hand already, eyes glancing up at the trees and likely identifying the positions of her own people without much need for asking Signy where they were. Zahraâs fingers habitually inched towards her shoulder and halted at her collarbone, fingers curling into her palm. She made a small noise, exasperated. Her hand crept back and settled on the pommels of her blades instead.
"We'll have to do the best we can, but the red lyrium makes them hard targets, even under their armor." SĂ©verine looked over the others that were with them, likely going over some tactical options in her head. "The goal here should be securing as many civilians as we can, or maybe even a Red prisoner. There are many caravans, and destroying one won't mean much. But information could lead us to the source." Her eyes turned to Stel. "Inquisitor, I've heard your mark allows you to... cover ground very quickly, so to speak. Could you use it to pull a civilian or two clear of danger?"
Estella thought about that for a moment, then nodded. âIt's not... the most reliable thing, but I'll do my best. I could, in theory, transport a couple of you with me on the trip there, too, if we wanted to get some people into melee range as quickly as possible." She glanced at Leon and grimaced. âI've, um... never moved someone of the Commander's size before, and I don't know how that would affect anything, but I could probably move you, Captain, and maybe Zahra as well?" She seemed to have noticed that Zahra herself was without a ranged option at the moment.
Leon crossed his arms. âIt's a risk, but it's probably better to get at least a couple of us down there while they're still unprepared. If you think you can do it, we ought to. As for whom to take... that would be a matter of volunteering, I should think. It's a perilous position to be in."
âIâm game. Do keep my limbs intact. Iâm rather attached to them,â Zahra inflected with a smile, nodding her head. She wasnât sure how any of that actually worked⊠but if Stel was confident enough to move one or two people along with her, then she trusted in her judgment. A small part of her was curious what it would feel like, anyway.
SĂ©verine looked to be considering for a moment before Zahra volunteered ahead of her, at which point she closed her open mouth. "If the pirate's willing to throw herself in there, then so am I. Let's make it our opening move. As soon as we have all of their attention, loose a volley. Make your shots count, and be careful not to hit any of the hostages."
"We'll get our part done, Ser," Lia assured her.
"Good. The rest will charge from both sides, and clean up any resistance. A warning, though..." Her eyes fell for a moment, before she swept them out over her templars, and the others. "There's no way this is going to be clean. The Red Templars are powerful, and with civilians caught in the middle... we'll save as many as we can, but don't go in expecting to save them all. Do your job, trust the one next to you to do theirs, and we'll get the best outcome we're capable of. Any objections?" She took her helm into both hands, preparing to drop it into place over her head.
Leon nodded once, expression somber. âWell-said, captain. For now, we wait."
Waiting wasnât something Zahra was especially good at. It made her itch. Especially when surrounded by nothing but endless trees, spanning as far as the eye could see. Two hills and a measly road cut between them did little to stifle the openness, and lack of cover it provided. Where would they come from? Where would they be hiding? While she was all for throwing herself into the fray⊠not knowing when ate at her, and made her feel ill-prepared. She hoped the Red Templars were just as noisy as their own entourage, at least then theyâd have an opportunity for a preemptive strike. A ringing bell, a signal.
Unlikely. She moved to Stelâs side, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. It wasnât like sheâd be bolting ahead of the packâsomething that she never looked forward to, but even so, a tickle of anticipation quickened her heartbeat. She blamed the forest and its restrictive, brambly embrace. Pressing into their sides. Open fields, and rolling hills, she could easily deal with. How the Dalish lived here, sheâd never know. The chirping of cicadas and insects rattled her nerves; and whether it was her imagination or not, she felt like eyes were trained on them.
She took a deep breath in and exhaled in a slow, controlled manner. Her hands, however, hadnât loosened their grips across the pommels of her blades, ready to free them from their scabbards as soon as they made the jump.
A low whistle came from above. Zahra could see Lia perched in the branch of a tree, high above the ground. She made a few hand signals down at the group below, balancing her weight skillfully without the use of her hands.
Closer to Zahra, Signy tsked softly under her breath. âTwenty hostiles." She grimaced. âTen hostages." She eased the bow from her back and fit an arrow to the string, drawing back partway and turning her eyes to the road.
It was at that point that everyone noticeably tensed, the fight becoming imminent. SĂ©verine's templars quietly drew out their weapons and made sure they were out of sight, while the Knight-Captain herself took up her position on Stel's other side, holding the chain of her flail against the handle to keep it from making any unwanted noise. The scouts all drew and readed whatever ranged weapons they were most comfortable with, Lia above them drawing back an arrow and holding it steady.
Within moments Zahra could hear the approaching carts coming up the path, drawn by sets of clopping hooves. There were five in total, large covered wagons with well-constructed wheels rimmed in steel, strong enough to make long and hard journeys. Pairs of blindfolded hostages were tied to each one, their hands bound to the reins, their arms lashed to each other, and their legs tied to their seats, all with thin leather straps. They were dressed for the cold of winter, a few of them hiding their faces. Behind them it was easy to see the glow given off by the red lyrium, that substance which seemed almost to infect the air around it. Those civilians that could be seen looked sick and pale, almost like they had the darkspawn taint, but instead of blackness welling up inside them there was a dull red instead. Overexposure to the substance, no doubt.
The Red Templars themselves kept good spacing between each other, split columns keeping pace on either side of the caravan. Each of the carts carried one of them on top of it, either to lead the group, or to ensure the hostages didn't try to flee with the horses at their command. They looked... different, from when they'd last been seen, at Haven's fall. The time with their precious red lyrium had not been kind to them. Or perhaps it had, it was hard to say. Some of them were approaching the point where they were less recognizably human, the lyrium growths spurting out of their heads, chest, shoulders. Some of them walked with hunched backs bristling with spikes of the stuff, radiating the energy that went along with it. Others had retained their appearances somehow, but by the way they moved, they weren't necessarily new to the substance. It was hard to tell who among them, if anyone, led the group.
The scouts picked out their targets. SĂ©verine's templars prepared to charge out of their hiding places, adjusting their grips on their weapons in either anticipation or nervousness, or a mix of both. SĂ©verine held out her right arm towards Stel, her eyes not leaving their targets. When she spoke, it was in a barely audible whisper. "When you're ready, Inquisitor."
Between Zahra and SĂ©verine, Estella exhaled almost inaudibly, nodding slightly. One of her hands closed around the Templar Captain's wrist; the other found Zahra's. There was a muted cracking sound, and then a fine green mist filled Zahra's vision. Stel tugged her forward, but no sooner had she taken what felt like a single step than the mist was receding and the sounds of the Reds were all around them. Stel had deposited them next to one of the columns, granting them the advantage of surprise, but these were well-disciplined soldiers. It would not last more than a moment.
Stel herself didn't seem to have taken the jump well, or maybe it was the sudden proximity to the red lyrium. She staggered, fumbling for her sword, the color draining from her face.
The entire jumping process felt as if Zahraâs insides had folded inwards and then pressed forcefully outwards, and if it werenât for Stelâs grip on her wrist, she felt as if she would tumble into nothingness. She wasnât even sure where she was, until the feeling subsided and felt more like the sway of a ship. It hadnât been what she was expectingâbut it was as disorienting as sheâd assumed it would be. As soon as the green smog sloughed away from her eyes, red assaulted her vision. Rouge crystals, and ugly malformations.
She took advantage of their surprise appearance, and ripped her blades free from their scabbards. While she wouldâve much preferred shooting arrows from a distance, there was nothing she could do but step away from Stelâs side in an attempt to gain ground and knock the first crooked creature off-balance, before it turned to face them. It worked. Though, not as well as she intended. The Red Templarâs arms were⊠unfortunate things. No fingers. No weapon to hold. Well. Itâs arms were more like blades, polluted by red luminous shards.
Its movements were far swifter than sheâd given it credit for. Hunched body be damned. Her blade clattered off its forearm and sang free from her intended markâits exposed neckline, somewhat guarded by its iron helmet. She didnât have much time to think of where she should aim next before it reared back and attempted an overhead swing, which she barely parried with her second blade. It bent under the pressure, clearly not crafted for such a deadlock. With a breathy snarl, she leveled a swift kick to the chest, sending it reeling backwards against one of the wagons.
SĂ©verine intercepted a sword strike from a nearby templar, the blade clanging loudly off the face of her shield. She lashed out with the blunt face of it, driving the corrupted woman back a few steps, and giving SĂ©verine the space to engage the next. He came at her with a two handed sword, red lyrium beginning to mold from his flesh into his armor. The Knight-Captain angled her shield carefully as the blow came in and turned it aside, tilting the edge of the weapon down into the dirt. The chain of her weapon jangled behind her for a moment, before she brought it around smoothly to take advantage of the opening.
The flanged head of the flail crunched into the Red's jaw, deforming the helmet and the face beneath it and sending little shattered fragments of red lyrium onto the ground. It would've knocked a normal man out cold, but the Red Templar just staggered back, taking a moment to recover from the blow.
"Go, Estella, we've got your back!" she shouted. On the wagon closest to them, the pair of civilians looked around frantically and in terror. Above and behind them, a Red archer drew back an arrow aimed for the back of one of their heads. A different arrow whistled into his skull first, as did two more into his chest mere moments later, and he dropped, falling off the side of the cart into a heap on the ground below. The full volley followed, almost every arrow finding its mark. A few Red Templars were taken down, the weaker of the group, but many more simply shrugged off the wounds.
Despite the roar of SĂ©verine's templars charging down to attack them, the Red Templars acted with a singular mindset and an obvious initial goal: to reach their hostages, and kill them all.
Stel still seemed to be struggling to get her bearings; she lurched more than ran forward towards the civilians, but she'd managed to free her sword, and whatever discomfort or sickness she was experiencing was not enough to deter her from her path forward, though a pair of Reds had broken off to try and beat her there. One of them looked especially imposing, spikes of corrupted lyrium long erupted from his shoulders and arms, calcified over his skin. He was still a bit more humanoid than some of the others, able to hold and wield a greatsword.
Before anyone had much time to try and stop him, he'd cleaved halfway through the woman on the left. Stel made a soft choking noise, and threw herself forward, reappearing a moment later bodily between the second approaching soldier and the other civilian, who now cowered in terror, his blindfold no protection from knowledge of what was about to happen to him. An arrow whistled for him, aimed right between his eyes, but Stel got in the way, catching it in the shoulder and just barely avoiding decapitation by the shieldbearing Red who'd been about to kill the second innocent.
She raised her sword, swinging for his legs, but her blade rang off his shield. Beside them, the big one had finally torn his blade free of the woman's split body; he brought it around in a swing Stel couldn't hope to block.
His aim was knocked aside by a heavy impact; Leon had slammed hard into his side, armor-to-armor the clang audible even over the other battlefield noise. It was enough to get the big one's attention, and he refocused his attention on the immediate threat. The other tried to shove Stel aside with his shield, but she wasn't deterred, sliding around the bash attempt like water. She seemed to be struggling to call up the green light again, though, and for a moment, a look of surprise flickered over her face.
The moment was enough; the Red Templar's axe struck fast, bypassing the opportunity to hit her for one to hit the unarmored man she was trying to protect. Bones cracked wetly from the impact; the young man screamed. Stel lunged, wreathed in verdigris, and pulled him with her, back to where Zahra could not see. Probably behind them.
But he left a prominent blood-smear behind.
The rest of SĂ©verine's templars cut into the Reds, who had willingly turned their backs in order to eviscerate their hostages. A few tried to cut their way to them in time, but the Reds were difficult to move, and swift to kill. Screams erupted through the woods, each one following the sound of a vicious wound rending flesh. Their tactics served to work the true templars into a rage, and they set upon the corrupted traitors with fury, a group overwhelming and bringing down one of the horrors quickly. In the midst of the fray the most confident archers in the trees still picked out their targets and found ways to contribute. The Red Templars would not survive this. It was simply a matter of how long they could last.
Chaos erupted around themâbloody chaos, Zahra hadnât expected the Red Templars to turn on their sickly, unarmed hostages. What good would a wagon full of dead bodies do? It made no sense. Trying to wade in after Stel had turned out to be a bad idea and one that sheâd immediately failed at. Turned away by scraggly creatures with crystals embedded through their spines, hefting shards over their heads. Sheâd managed to fell two fairly normal looking knights, if she could even call them that. Men and women who looked like theyâd dragged themselves out of a grave.
Her first kill had taken a handful of stab wounds to his torso and shoulders, still managing to press her backwards. As if their bodies couldnât process the pain or outright denied it. By the time she turned to face another shadow, perhaps the same one sheâd kicked way, she was out of breath and growing weary of parrying incoming blades, and crystal shards. Her legs and arms burned from the exertion and she swore, swore that she felt like throwing up. A sickness that felt as if it were blooming in her gut and anchoring her down.
The unarmed hostages didnât have a chance in hell. Half of the Templars had turned away from them. Their priorities were clear, even as SĂ©verine's templars cut into their exposed backs. Blood-curdling screams echoed through the surrounding woods, rang in her ears. Those who were tied to their dead neighbors were trying to scramble away from the approaching Reds, only to be silenced. Slaughtered. A hiss sifted from between her teeth as she cut into the Shadowâs side, pushing him backwards, enough to cut further into the column.
Leon's fight had taken him a fair bit away from the thick of things, though whether that was incidental or by design was hard to say, exactly. The Red Templar knight had since lost his heavy two-handed blade, and they now fought with bodies alone. Bonelike protrusions of lyrium served the templar well as knuckle-spikes; one of them scraped across the commander's chestplate with a shrill screech, loud enough to cut even into the nauseous haze of the battle. Leon himself seemed less affected by the sick feeling that had the rest of them reeling.
He was, rather, in the grip of something else entirely. Whatever it was drove him forward as though possessed; he didn't even flinch when the knight landed a heavy blow to his midsection, leaving a slight dent behind in the plate which protected him. The seeker drove his elbow up into the other man's chin, splitting open the skin just beneath. His darkened veins, prominent under the waxy pallor of his skin, bled almost too lazily, as though clotting quicker than any human or otherwise had a right to.
The retaliatory shove knocked Leon back several steps, staggering him. A follow-up, delivered with a ringing clangor, slammed into his helmet, lyrium knuckle-dusters finding the narrow vertical slit in the helm. It was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed like they came away bloody when Leon's head snapped back, prevented from moving too far only by the helmet rim's collision with the plate protecting his back and shoulders.
The match seemed almost equal, and considering just who was being equaled here, it was an ominous sign, to say the least. Blood ran freely from under Leon's helm, curling down his bronzed chestplate like little crimson rivers. No supernatural force stopped the commander's blood. They lunged for one another again, disappearing from Zahra's line of sight.
A shrill screech came from a horror near on Zahra's right. The most deformed of the Red Templars barely appeared human anymore. SĂ©verine pressed the attack on it, bludgeoning her flail into the partly crystallized flesh repeatedly, taking bloody chunks away each time. Six or seven arrows protruded from its back, lodged in at various angles from where they'd been shot down from the tree branches. The arrows came fewer and fewer now, as the number of enemies dwindled and the difficulty of the shots increased.
The horror unleashed a small storm of lyrium shards, forcing the Knight-Captain to make herself small behind her shield, which barely absorbed the barrage of projectiles. Several pierced through, even going into SĂ©verine's arm underneath, but she ignored any pain that caused her, charging forward once it was done and bashing the horror backwards with her shield. It found its back pressed against the wheel of a wagon behind it, and SĂ©verine's flail immediately came around for a heavy swing, crunching into its face and removing most of the lower half of it, leaving the jaw hanging by a few tendons. Not counting on that being enough, SĂ©verine spun and brought the flail around for one more arc, this one cutting upwards. That took care of the other half of the horror's head.
A few stubborn enemies remained, only defending themselves now. At a glance, none of the bound hostages had survived, most in various states of dismemberment. The screams that had initially accompanied the battle now were just tired grunts of murderous effort, and pained moans of the wounded or dying. One of SĂ©verine's templars writhed on the ground, clutching at their throat where a shadow had sliced it open. Another had somehow lost the lower half of their right leg. Some of the scouts were coming down from their elevated positions to try to help them, while the rest still wore down the last of the caravan's guards.
The sickness hanging in the air hadnât done Zahra any good. Nor the others, she assumed. It felt as if her strength were leeching at a disproportionate paceâless so the further Leon pushed that hulking bastard. Sheâd seen them from her peripherals. A glimpse of clanking metal and cardinal crystals, before her attention was drawn back to the Shadow groaning in front of her. A crooning noise that sounded more like a wet inhale waggling from lips, peeled into a slavering mouth peeking from below his dented helmet.
Sweat wept down the back of her neck. Dripped down her spine, and dripped off her chin. She wasnât entirely sure if it was just sweat. The damned thing had swung his crystal-arm into her parry hard enough to jostle against her cheek. It didnât hurt. Not at that moment. Freckles of red were stained across the forearms of her leathers, indicating that something had happened. Was it her blood? The fleeing civilians, cut down so mercilessly? His. She wasnât sure anymore. The grounds they walked on were slick with blood. A feeding ground for the soil.
She tossed herself to the side, avoiding another wild swing and managed to right herself before he attempted to jab its other arm in a straight line. She smashed the back of his head with the pommel of her blade as he stumbled forward, carried by his own momentum. If she didnât end this soon, sheâd be the one writhing on the ground. A tough lesson sheâd learned before, again and again when she faced Marceline.
As soon as the Shadow began to turn on his heels in order to face her, Zahra plunged one of her blades through his exposed neck and dropped the other one sheâd been holding. She leveraged both hands into the cross guard and bodily swung off to the side, tugging on the blade to pull him down to the ground. The tendons of the Shadowâs neck pulled taut against the bending blade, gushing sluggishly. It did not, however, move after it fell onto his face.
Leon and the Red Templar knight had by this point escaped the range of arrows and the crush of the surrounding melee entirely. By the time Zahra laid eyes on them again, both were obviously bloodied. Leon had lost his helm, revealing gouges on his face, three of them in a vertical line. The one between his brows had clearly been bleeding into his right eye at some point, only to be smeared away across that side of his face. The same side of his nose was mangled; it looked like the cartilage underneath had barely survived the impact, but his skin was ribbons. The last had split his upper lip, which was the source of much of the blood running down his chin and onto his chestplate.
Several hard impacts had put considerable dents in his armor; clearly, the knight's blows landed far more heavily than any normal person should be able to produce. The fact that the seeker hadn't simply dodged them suggested that they landed very quickly as well. The observation was borne out: he moved with both more speed and more strength than the commander of the Inquisition's forces, stepping in past Leon's guard, deflecting the punch meant to punish him for it, and landing a blow that thudded with a sick sound across the seeker's bare cheek.
Leon moved with the impact, but it still snapped his head to the side, leaving four deep, bloody gashes in the left side of his face. He snapped it back himself with an uncomfortable, wet sound, lips pulling back from red teeth. The expression on his face looked hardly human itself, a narrow-eyed, heavy-browed rictus of animal fury. Something shifted, too, in the way he held himself, though it was hard to pinpoint. He roared, and burst forwards, colliding with the knight, who was clearly unprepared for the sudden reversal in tactics.
His first blow landed heavily on the joint between the knight's shoulder and arm-plates, dislocating his left arm with a squelching pop. But Leon left no pauses between his strikes, the speed at which he moved increasing in tandem with the sheer savage force of the hits; he tore the knight's helmet free of his head, landed a punch directly to his throat, and slammed an armored elbow into the back of his neck when he doubled over. The wet crack that followed was evidence enough that the spine had broken there, but Leon did not back off, instead seizing the knight's head in both hands and twisting it until it was facing nearly completely backwards. Planting a foot against the templar's shoulder, the commander pulled, the motion sharp and sudden, and the knight's head came free of his body, stringy ligaments of muscle torn unevenly at the ends and dripping a cascade of blood.
Leon's shoulders heaved like a bellows, air moving in and out of his lungs with the heavy rapidity of overexertion. For a moment, he scanned the field, almost as though looking for something else upon which to visit his rage, but then his body abruptly gave out, the knight's head dropping from numb fingers. The seeker's violet eyes, wild with something unindentifiable, rolled back in his head, and he toppled to the ground with a weighty thud.
The last of the surviving Red Templars took a final downward stab of a sword from one of SĂ©verine's bunch before he stilled on the ground, and then the path and the red-lyrium laden caravan fell silent. Or at least, mostly silent. A few among the templars were still trying not to die from their injuries, and the scouts rushed down from their vantage points to help them get clear of the field. SĂ©verine unbuckled her shield, approaching one of her men and holding out the arm.
"Get this off me." Her words were rasped harshly, as though she was in more pain than she was letting on. The templar immediately sheathed his sword and took a strong grip on her shield, allowing SĂ©verine to rip her arm free with a muted cry. The red lyrium shards remained in the shield, leaving her left forearm to bleed freely. Despite that, she sighed in relief. "Templars!" she called. "Help your Commander. Get the wounded clear of the lyrium. Lia, send word back that the fight's over. Wounded coming back to camp, and we need a crew to dispose of this."
"Ser." Lia nodded, taking off at a run.
SĂ©verine accepted a bandage from a templar, using it to bind the wounds on her arm. She removed her helmet, wiping away a layer of sweat from her forehead and looking back towards the line of bushes that had originally concealed their ambush. "Estella! What's the status of the hostage?"
âUm, he's..." Stel's voice sounded weary, wearier than even a battle like that should have made it. For a moment, her face appeared above the line of a thicket of underbrush; apparently she had indeed transported him back to near where they'd begun the ambush. Even from this distance, it wasn't hard to tell how waxy her complexion wasâshe looked a great deal more ill than Zahra felt.
Her attention was diverted back downwards, though, and she made a small noise of distress, audible only because of the relative quiet that had fallen once more over the area.
âHe's dying."
She hummed low in her throat. An old tune. Mostly to keep her focused. Soft enough not to be a nuisance. Subtlety hardly mattered when two handfuls of clanking Templars followed at their heels, decked in their stifling steels. Leon led their little troupe, flanked by Sev and Lia. Sheâd chosen to walk alongside Estella because she had no clue where they were goingâmeeting Signy somewhere deeper into the woods, perhaps where no light at all would speckle through the trees. Sometimes, it felt like theyâd step into a hole, and be swallowed up by the shrubbery.
While her fingers still itched for her old, broken bow, sheâd taken her faithful rapiers with her. Best to sharpen her technique with her blades, and stop relying solely on her arrows. It was a hard lesson to swallow, and one that made her feel a little uncomfortable. At least until she acquired a new one. Sheâd tried some of the extra bows theyâd brought with them, but they felt wrong in her hands. Unbalanced. Awkward. Too small. Too light. Too heavy. Her tastes were precise, as if she were choosing a ship to sail. Some might say that they were all created equal, but she begged to differ. Stubborn or no, her habits often died hard.
Knuckling at her nose, she allowed her eyes to stray off to the side. Looking at nothing in particular. There were small noises, scuffles through the undergrowth. Twigs snapping. Subtle sounds that couldâve easily been mistaken for animals, if she hadnât known there were scouts skulking through the shadows, eyeing the horizon for anything that needed worrying about. So far, there was nothing to see. No trouble. Not yet. She rubbed the back of her neck and glanced sidelong at Stel, a grin growing on her face, âFigure itâs moot to ask if weâre there yet.â A pause, a beat and her smile widened, âBut while weâre walking⊠I donât suppose Iâm wrong to notice some romantic developments taking place.â
Truly. There was no wrong time or place to gossip about the Inquisitionâs respective paramours. Besides, it would make the time pass far quicker. For her, at least.
Estella, who had been dutifully concentrating on the road in front of them, eyes frequently scanning their surroundings with wariness, started at the statement, pulling a breath in through her teeth. Whether it was just because someone had spoken closer to her than she was expecting or due to the content of the words was initially hard to tell. Her eyes moved quickly to Zahra's; she cleared her throat. It was at that point that it became obvious what part of the verbal prodding was startling. Her blush, as it turned out, was a bit blotchy, darker over her cheekbones than anywhere else, with spots of color on her nose and forehead as well.
She glanced around, almost as though afraid someone else might have heard the inquiry. Leon and the others ahead were the most likely, but if they'd heard anything, they weren't giving any immediate indications. A look over her shoulder confirmed that Sev's templars were a bit too far behind to notice it over the sound of their own passage. Still, her voice was low when she replied, as though she were afraid of being heard. âI, um... yes. Or rather, no, you're not wrong." Estella cleared her throat again. âJust, um... maybe don't tell everyone." She looked genuinely concerned for a moment, almost unsure of what she was going to say.
âSome people wouldn't understand, you know?" Her voice dropped even further. âI'm not sure how to deal with that yet, and I don't wantâ" She paused awkwardly, her mouth pulling to one side. âI don't want him to deal with any trouble because of it."
Zahra raked a hand through her wild hair, effectively pushing it from her face. What was wrong with a little romance in their merry band of misadventures? Saving the world was exhausting enough. That everyone wanted it to be kept secret baffled her. While sheâd never been one for overt sweetness, she loved freely. Loudly. Without shame, or embarrassment. Apparently that wasnât so with everyone else. It felt like, as of recent, she was collecting secrets of the affectionate variety, adding them to her repertoire of things she must not speak of. What good was it if she couldnât openly tease both parties?
She was happy for them. That Stel allowed herself a little reprieve from all of her responsibilitiesâthat she could lean on someone, and lessen her burden. Friends were good for that⊠but sometimes, having someone behind closed doors, someone to hold hands with, was more, felt like more, in a sense. The smile smoothed itself out as she kept pace with Stel, and glanced over to Leon and Liaâs backs as they strode ahead. While there might have been a chance that they could hear their conversation, she was sure it wouldnât interest them much. Of course, maybe they were secret romantics, as well. Sheâd been wrong before.
âMy lips,â she made a gesture across her lips, and winked, âare sealed. Though I do believe more people would understand than youâd think.â An eyebrow raised. âIâm happy for you. You make a good pair.â The smile wobbled into a smirk as she drew nearer, and gently bumped her shoulder. Her voice had lowered to a coquettish whisper. A girlish, secretive coo, âSo, the pretty ones are your type. I wouldnât have thought.â
âErm..." The expression on Estella's face hovered somewhere between further embarrassment and something like exasperation. âThat's, uh... um." She seemed to be very much out of her element talking about this kind of thing. A huff escaped her, a wry smile twisting her lip. âLet me try this again. I... don't know about that last part, but the reason I asked you not to say anything wasn't because IâI know some people will understand. But if there are even a few who don't..." The smile fell away.
Estella shook her head faintly. âPeople have been killed for less, Zahra. And it's usually not the human. I'd rather have some kind of idea how to handle that before we actually have to." Her eyes fell to the ground beneath them. It took a few moments for her to snap herself out of it, but when she did, she managed another smile. âBut I trust you with the secret. So you can keep making fun of me if you want. I'm sure it's entertaining." There was a sort of gentle self-effacement in her expression; clearly she knew that how flustered she was wasn't how most people would handle the same situation.
Zahra lifted a hand and rubbed at her chin. While she couldnât profess to understanding why it was such an issue, she supposed she could see where Stel was coming from. Ruling a kingdom aside, being the Inquisitor was similar to royalty. There were potential weaknesses, slits in her armor that could be taken advantage of. The world wasnât a simple place, that much she understood. There was a difference between doing whatever you wished on the seas, and facing the world head-on with an army at your back. Perhaps, one day, it wouldnât be an issue. She hoped so, at least.
Her smile tempered itself. Drew back into something much smaller. That much was true. She made another humming noise, and nodded her head. The fact that Ves was elven hadnât eluded her. That it might mean something to someone else had, though. Her entire crew was composed of misfits, belonging to all walks of life. If anyone tread on their toes, she made them regret it. Pirates hardly discriminated against specific races, though sheâd seen her fair share. Slavers, raiders composed solely of Qunari. Humans. These slights were usually solved with the sharp edge of an arrow. Unfortunately, it wasnât a luxury the Inquisition could, or would, allow.
However, she didnât doubt that sheâd do the same for them, if it came down to it.
âI suppose, Iâll have to settle for teasing you in secret as well,â she lamented with a softer smile, bereft of its toothy edge, âThe Inquisition makes for difficult affairs.â For her sake, she wished it werenât so. To fear backlash for caring for someone else⊠sheâd never feared such a thing before. Vulnerabilities, however. She had plenty. âI meant it. When I said I wouldnât breathe a word.â
There was another pause as she gave Stel some room and stepped off to the side, scanning the treeline as they walked. âI may even spare you the embarrassment. Iâm no monster.â Crass as she was, even she had caught on to Stelâs discomfort. Her concerns, her worries. This, she assumed, was not familiar territory for her. She cleared her throat and turned her attention towards the canopy, âIâm, uh⊠sorry if I was insensitive.â
âOh, don't be." Stel smiled more fully at that. âThis may sound strange, but I'm glad you think of it like that. Just something to tease a friend about like you would with anyone. It's reassuring, in a way."
Anything else they might have said was precluded by the fact that they seemed to have reached their destination. The Avvar scout, Signy, was already present, arms crossed over her chest, a longbow across her back, the quiver at her hip just in front of a short, machete-like blade. She'd braided her ginger hair to her head, exposing the tattoos on the left side of her neck. As they approached, she offered a nod and a casual salute, motion smooth and almost laconic. She didn't bother much with preamble. "Expecting a caravan soon." She turned dark eyes down the road behind them for a moment, then returned them to the group, shifting her weight slightly to the opposite foot. "The land makes a choke point here, but the cover's a fair bit back from the road, as you can see."
A gesture with her chin drew their attention to the fact. The road cut between two small hills here, providing ample opportunity for ambush, but the nearest trees were a fair distance up, and the ground cover with them. It meant anyone trying to enter melee would probably be seen in considerable advance of getting to the caravan. "Not sure how that's going to complicate things for us, but there isn't a better spot anywhere we saw." She lifted her shoulders and let them fall. "I've got the others up the trees with bows, but that doesn't look like it'll work with our friends here." She raised an eyebrow at the heavily-armored templars.
SĂ©verine made her way up to the edge of the natural cover the foliage provided, peering down a moment at the road to confirm Signy's words. The other templars formed up quietly, awaiting her opinion. "Going to be hard to make this clean," she said, grimacing. She turned back to face the others. "Arrows won't take down Reds quickly, even well placed ones."
"What about a lot of well-placed arrows, all at once?" Lia asked, eyebrow raised. She had her own longbow in hand already, eyes glancing up at the trees and likely identifying the positions of her own people without much need for asking Signy where they were. Zahraâs fingers habitually inched towards her shoulder and halted at her collarbone, fingers curling into her palm. She made a small noise, exasperated. Her hand crept back and settled on the pommels of her blades instead.
"We'll have to do the best we can, but the red lyrium makes them hard targets, even under their armor." SĂ©verine looked over the others that were with them, likely going over some tactical options in her head. "The goal here should be securing as many civilians as we can, or maybe even a Red prisoner. There are many caravans, and destroying one won't mean much. But information could lead us to the source." Her eyes turned to Stel. "Inquisitor, I've heard your mark allows you to... cover ground very quickly, so to speak. Could you use it to pull a civilian or two clear of danger?"
Estella thought about that for a moment, then nodded. âIt's not... the most reliable thing, but I'll do my best. I could, in theory, transport a couple of you with me on the trip there, too, if we wanted to get some people into melee range as quickly as possible." She glanced at Leon and grimaced. âI've, um... never moved someone of the Commander's size before, and I don't know how that would affect anything, but I could probably move you, Captain, and maybe Zahra as well?" She seemed to have noticed that Zahra herself was without a ranged option at the moment.
Leon crossed his arms. âIt's a risk, but it's probably better to get at least a couple of us down there while they're still unprepared. If you think you can do it, we ought to. As for whom to take... that would be a matter of volunteering, I should think. It's a perilous position to be in."
âIâm game. Do keep my limbs intact. Iâm rather attached to them,â Zahra inflected with a smile, nodding her head. She wasnât sure how any of that actually worked⊠but if Stel was confident enough to move one or two people along with her, then she trusted in her judgment. A small part of her was curious what it would feel like, anyway.
SĂ©verine looked to be considering for a moment before Zahra volunteered ahead of her, at which point she closed her open mouth. "If the pirate's willing to throw herself in there, then so am I. Let's make it our opening move. As soon as we have all of their attention, loose a volley. Make your shots count, and be careful not to hit any of the hostages."
"We'll get our part done, Ser," Lia assured her.
"Good. The rest will charge from both sides, and clean up any resistance. A warning, though..." Her eyes fell for a moment, before she swept them out over her templars, and the others. "There's no way this is going to be clean. The Red Templars are powerful, and with civilians caught in the middle... we'll save as many as we can, but don't go in expecting to save them all. Do your job, trust the one next to you to do theirs, and we'll get the best outcome we're capable of. Any objections?" She took her helm into both hands, preparing to drop it into place over her head.
Leon nodded once, expression somber. âWell-said, captain. For now, we wait."
Waiting wasnât something Zahra was especially good at. It made her itch. Especially when surrounded by nothing but endless trees, spanning as far as the eye could see. Two hills and a measly road cut between them did little to stifle the openness, and lack of cover it provided. Where would they come from? Where would they be hiding? While she was all for throwing herself into the fray⊠not knowing when ate at her, and made her feel ill-prepared. She hoped the Red Templars were just as noisy as their own entourage, at least then theyâd have an opportunity for a preemptive strike. A ringing bell, a signal.
Unlikely. She moved to Stelâs side, and shifted her weight from foot to foot. It wasnât like sheâd be bolting ahead of the packâsomething that she never looked forward to, but even so, a tickle of anticipation quickened her heartbeat. She blamed the forest and its restrictive, brambly embrace. Pressing into their sides. Open fields, and rolling hills, she could easily deal with. How the Dalish lived here, sheâd never know. The chirping of cicadas and insects rattled her nerves; and whether it was her imagination or not, she felt like eyes were trained on them.
She took a deep breath in and exhaled in a slow, controlled manner. Her hands, however, hadnât loosened their grips across the pommels of her blades, ready to free them from their scabbards as soon as they made the jump.
A low whistle came from above. Zahra could see Lia perched in the branch of a tree, high above the ground. She made a few hand signals down at the group below, balancing her weight skillfully without the use of her hands.
Closer to Zahra, Signy tsked softly under her breath. âTwenty hostiles." She grimaced. âTen hostages." She eased the bow from her back and fit an arrow to the string, drawing back partway and turning her eyes to the road.
It was at that point that everyone noticeably tensed, the fight becoming imminent. SĂ©verine's templars quietly drew out their weapons and made sure they were out of sight, while the Knight-Captain herself took up her position on Stel's other side, holding the chain of her flail against the handle to keep it from making any unwanted noise. The scouts all drew and readed whatever ranged weapons they were most comfortable with, Lia above them drawing back an arrow and holding it steady.
Within moments Zahra could hear the approaching carts coming up the path, drawn by sets of clopping hooves. There were five in total, large covered wagons with well-constructed wheels rimmed in steel, strong enough to make long and hard journeys. Pairs of blindfolded hostages were tied to each one, their hands bound to the reins, their arms lashed to each other, and their legs tied to their seats, all with thin leather straps. They were dressed for the cold of winter, a few of them hiding their faces. Behind them it was easy to see the glow given off by the red lyrium, that substance which seemed almost to infect the air around it. Those civilians that could be seen looked sick and pale, almost like they had the darkspawn taint, but instead of blackness welling up inside them there was a dull red instead. Overexposure to the substance, no doubt.
The Red Templars themselves kept good spacing between each other, split columns keeping pace on either side of the caravan. Each of the carts carried one of them on top of it, either to lead the group, or to ensure the hostages didn't try to flee with the horses at their command. They looked... different, from when they'd last been seen, at Haven's fall. The time with their precious red lyrium had not been kind to them. Or perhaps it had, it was hard to say. Some of them were approaching the point where they were less recognizably human, the lyrium growths spurting out of their heads, chest, shoulders. Some of them walked with hunched backs bristling with spikes of the stuff, radiating the energy that went along with it. Others had retained their appearances somehow, but by the way they moved, they weren't necessarily new to the substance. It was hard to tell who among them, if anyone, led the group.
The scouts picked out their targets. SĂ©verine's templars prepared to charge out of their hiding places, adjusting their grips on their weapons in either anticipation or nervousness, or a mix of both. SĂ©verine held out her right arm towards Stel, her eyes not leaving their targets. When she spoke, it was in a barely audible whisper. "When you're ready, Inquisitor."
Between Zahra and SĂ©verine, Estella exhaled almost inaudibly, nodding slightly. One of her hands closed around the Templar Captain's wrist; the other found Zahra's. There was a muted cracking sound, and then a fine green mist filled Zahra's vision. Stel tugged her forward, but no sooner had she taken what felt like a single step than the mist was receding and the sounds of the Reds were all around them. Stel had deposited them next to one of the columns, granting them the advantage of surprise, but these were well-disciplined soldiers. It would not last more than a moment.
Stel herself didn't seem to have taken the jump well, or maybe it was the sudden proximity to the red lyrium. She staggered, fumbling for her sword, the color draining from her face.
The entire jumping process felt as if Zahraâs insides had folded inwards and then pressed forcefully outwards, and if it werenât for Stelâs grip on her wrist, she felt as if she would tumble into nothingness. She wasnât even sure where she was, until the feeling subsided and felt more like the sway of a ship. It hadnât been what she was expectingâbut it was as disorienting as sheâd assumed it would be. As soon as the green smog sloughed away from her eyes, red assaulted her vision. Rouge crystals, and ugly malformations.
She took advantage of their surprise appearance, and ripped her blades free from their scabbards. While she wouldâve much preferred shooting arrows from a distance, there was nothing she could do but step away from Stelâs side in an attempt to gain ground and knock the first crooked creature off-balance, before it turned to face them. It worked. Though, not as well as she intended. The Red Templarâs arms were⊠unfortunate things. No fingers. No weapon to hold. Well. Itâs arms were more like blades, polluted by red luminous shards.
Its movements were far swifter than sheâd given it credit for. Hunched body be damned. Her blade clattered off its forearm and sang free from her intended markâits exposed neckline, somewhat guarded by its iron helmet. She didnât have much time to think of where she should aim next before it reared back and attempted an overhead swing, which she barely parried with her second blade. It bent under the pressure, clearly not crafted for such a deadlock. With a breathy snarl, she leveled a swift kick to the chest, sending it reeling backwards against one of the wagons.
SĂ©verine intercepted a sword strike from a nearby templar, the blade clanging loudly off the face of her shield. She lashed out with the blunt face of it, driving the corrupted woman back a few steps, and giving SĂ©verine the space to engage the next. He came at her with a two handed sword, red lyrium beginning to mold from his flesh into his armor. The Knight-Captain angled her shield carefully as the blow came in and turned it aside, tilting the edge of the weapon down into the dirt. The chain of her weapon jangled behind her for a moment, before she brought it around smoothly to take advantage of the opening.
The flanged head of the flail crunched into the Red's jaw, deforming the helmet and the face beneath it and sending little shattered fragments of red lyrium onto the ground. It would've knocked a normal man out cold, but the Red Templar just staggered back, taking a moment to recover from the blow.
"Go, Estella, we've got your back!" she shouted. On the wagon closest to them, the pair of civilians looked around frantically and in terror. Above and behind them, a Red archer drew back an arrow aimed for the back of one of their heads. A different arrow whistled into his skull first, as did two more into his chest mere moments later, and he dropped, falling off the side of the cart into a heap on the ground below. The full volley followed, almost every arrow finding its mark. A few Red Templars were taken down, the weaker of the group, but many more simply shrugged off the wounds.
Despite the roar of SĂ©verine's templars charging down to attack them, the Red Templars acted with a singular mindset and an obvious initial goal: to reach their hostages, and kill them all.
Stel still seemed to be struggling to get her bearings; she lurched more than ran forward towards the civilians, but she'd managed to free her sword, and whatever discomfort or sickness she was experiencing was not enough to deter her from her path forward, though a pair of Reds had broken off to try and beat her there. One of them looked especially imposing, spikes of corrupted lyrium long erupted from his shoulders and arms, calcified over his skin. He was still a bit more humanoid than some of the others, able to hold and wield a greatsword.
Before anyone had much time to try and stop him, he'd cleaved halfway through the woman on the left. Stel made a soft choking noise, and threw herself forward, reappearing a moment later bodily between the second approaching soldier and the other civilian, who now cowered in terror, his blindfold no protection from knowledge of what was about to happen to him. An arrow whistled for him, aimed right between his eyes, but Stel got in the way, catching it in the shoulder and just barely avoiding decapitation by the shieldbearing Red who'd been about to kill the second innocent.
She raised her sword, swinging for his legs, but her blade rang off his shield. Beside them, the big one had finally torn his blade free of the woman's split body; he brought it around in a swing Stel couldn't hope to block.
His aim was knocked aside by a heavy impact; Leon had slammed hard into his side, armor-to-armor the clang audible even over the other battlefield noise. It was enough to get the big one's attention, and he refocused his attention on the immediate threat. The other tried to shove Stel aside with his shield, but she wasn't deterred, sliding around the bash attempt like water. She seemed to be struggling to call up the green light again, though, and for a moment, a look of surprise flickered over her face.
The moment was enough; the Red Templar's axe struck fast, bypassing the opportunity to hit her for one to hit the unarmored man she was trying to protect. Bones cracked wetly from the impact; the young man screamed. Stel lunged, wreathed in verdigris, and pulled him with her, back to where Zahra could not see. Probably behind them.
But he left a prominent blood-smear behind.
The rest of SĂ©verine's templars cut into the Reds, who had willingly turned their backs in order to eviscerate their hostages. A few tried to cut their way to them in time, but the Reds were difficult to move, and swift to kill. Screams erupted through the woods, each one following the sound of a vicious wound rending flesh. Their tactics served to work the true templars into a rage, and they set upon the corrupted traitors with fury, a group overwhelming and bringing down one of the horrors quickly. In the midst of the fray the most confident archers in the trees still picked out their targets and found ways to contribute. The Red Templars would not survive this. It was simply a matter of how long they could last.
Chaos erupted around themâbloody chaos, Zahra hadnât expected the Red Templars to turn on their sickly, unarmed hostages. What good would a wagon full of dead bodies do? It made no sense. Trying to wade in after Stel had turned out to be a bad idea and one that sheâd immediately failed at. Turned away by scraggly creatures with crystals embedded through their spines, hefting shards over their heads. Sheâd managed to fell two fairly normal looking knights, if she could even call them that. Men and women who looked like theyâd dragged themselves out of a grave.
Her first kill had taken a handful of stab wounds to his torso and shoulders, still managing to press her backwards. As if their bodies couldnât process the pain or outright denied it. By the time she turned to face another shadow, perhaps the same one sheâd kicked way, she was out of breath and growing weary of parrying incoming blades, and crystal shards. Her legs and arms burned from the exertion and she swore, swore that she felt like throwing up. A sickness that felt as if it were blooming in her gut and anchoring her down.
The unarmed hostages didnât have a chance in hell. Half of the Templars had turned away from them. Their priorities were clear, even as SĂ©verine's templars cut into their exposed backs. Blood-curdling screams echoed through the surrounding woods, rang in her ears. Those who were tied to their dead neighbors were trying to scramble away from the approaching Reds, only to be silenced. Slaughtered. A hiss sifted from between her teeth as she cut into the Shadowâs side, pushing him backwards, enough to cut further into the column.
Leon's fight had taken him a fair bit away from the thick of things, though whether that was incidental or by design was hard to say, exactly. The Red Templar knight had since lost his heavy two-handed blade, and they now fought with bodies alone. Bonelike protrusions of lyrium served the templar well as knuckle-spikes; one of them scraped across the commander's chestplate with a shrill screech, loud enough to cut even into the nauseous haze of the battle. Leon himself seemed less affected by the sick feeling that had the rest of them reeling.
He was, rather, in the grip of something else entirely. Whatever it was drove him forward as though possessed; he didn't even flinch when the knight landed a heavy blow to his midsection, leaving a slight dent behind in the plate which protected him. The seeker drove his elbow up into the other man's chin, splitting open the skin just beneath. His darkened veins, prominent under the waxy pallor of his skin, bled almost too lazily, as though clotting quicker than any human or otherwise had a right to.
The retaliatory shove knocked Leon back several steps, staggering him. A follow-up, delivered with a ringing clangor, slammed into his helmet, lyrium knuckle-dusters finding the narrow vertical slit in the helm. It was hard to tell for sure, but it seemed like they came away bloody when Leon's head snapped back, prevented from moving too far only by the helmet rim's collision with the plate protecting his back and shoulders.
The match seemed almost equal, and considering just who was being equaled here, it was an ominous sign, to say the least. Blood ran freely from under Leon's helm, curling down his bronzed chestplate like little crimson rivers. No supernatural force stopped the commander's blood. They lunged for one another again, disappearing from Zahra's line of sight.
A shrill screech came from a horror near on Zahra's right. The most deformed of the Red Templars barely appeared human anymore. SĂ©verine pressed the attack on it, bludgeoning her flail into the partly crystallized flesh repeatedly, taking bloody chunks away each time. Six or seven arrows protruded from its back, lodged in at various angles from where they'd been shot down from the tree branches. The arrows came fewer and fewer now, as the number of enemies dwindled and the difficulty of the shots increased.
The horror unleashed a small storm of lyrium shards, forcing the Knight-Captain to make herself small behind her shield, which barely absorbed the barrage of projectiles. Several pierced through, even going into SĂ©verine's arm underneath, but she ignored any pain that caused her, charging forward once it was done and bashing the horror backwards with her shield. It found its back pressed against the wheel of a wagon behind it, and SĂ©verine's flail immediately came around for a heavy swing, crunching into its face and removing most of the lower half of it, leaving the jaw hanging by a few tendons. Not counting on that being enough, SĂ©verine spun and brought the flail around for one more arc, this one cutting upwards. That took care of the other half of the horror's head.
A few stubborn enemies remained, only defending themselves now. At a glance, none of the bound hostages had survived, most in various states of dismemberment. The screams that had initially accompanied the battle now were just tired grunts of murderous effort, and pained moans of the wounded or dying. One of SĂ©verine's templars writhed on the ground, clutching at their throat where a shadow had sliced it open. Another had somehow lost the lower half of their right leg. Some of the scouts were coming down from their elevated positions to try to help them, while the rest still wore down the last of the caravan's guards.
The sickness hanging in the air hadnât done Zahra any good. Nor the others, she assumed. It felt as if her strength were leeching at a disproportionate paceâless so the further Leon pushed that hulking bastard. Sheâd seen them from her peripherals. A glimpse of clanking metal and cardinal crystals, before her attention was drawn back to the Shadow groaning in front of her. A crooning noise that sounded more like a wet inhale waggling from lips, peeled into a slavering mouth peeking from below his dented helmet.
Sweat wept down the back of her neck. Dripped down her spine, and dripped off her chin. She wasnât entirely sure if it was just sweat. The damned thing had swung his crystal-arm into her parry hard enough to jostle against her cheek. It didnât hurt. Not at that moment. Freckles of red were stained across the forearms of her leathers, indicating that something had happened. Was it her blood? The fleeing civilians, cut down so mercilessly? His. She wasnât sure anymore. The grounds they walked on were slick with blood. A feeding ground for the soil.
She tossed herself to the side, avoiding another wild swing and managed to right herself before he attempted to jab its other arm in a straight line. She smashed the back of his head with the pommel of her blade as he stumbled forward, carried by his own momentum. If she didnât end this soon, sheâd be the one writhing on the ground. A tough lesson sheâd learned before, again and again when she faced Marceline.
As soon as the Shadow began to turn on his heels in order to face her, Zahra plunged one of her blades through his exposed neck and dropped the other one sheâd been holding. She leveraged both hands into the cross guard and bodily swung off to the side, tugging on the blade to pull him down to the ground. The tendons of the Shadowâs neck pulled taut against the bending blade, gushing sluggishly. It did not, however, move after it fell onto his face.
Leon and the Red Templar knight had by this point escaped the range of arrows and the crush of the surrounding melee entirely. By the time Zahra laid eyes on them again, both were obviously bloodied. Leon had lost his helm, revealing gouges on his face, three of them in a vertical line. The one between his brows had clearly been bleeding into his right eye at some point, only to be smeared away across that side of his face. The same side of his nose was mangled; it looked like the cartilage underneath had barely survived the impact, but his skin was ribbons. The last had split his upper lip, which was the source of much of the blood running down his chin and onto his chestplate.
Several hard impacts had put considerable dents in his armor; clearly, the knight's blows landed far more heavily than any normal person should be able to produce. The fact that the seeker hadn't simply dodged them suggested that they landed very quickly as well. The observation was borne out: he moved with both more speed and more strength than the commander of the Inquisition's forces, stepping in past Leon's guard, deflecting the punch meant to punish him for it, and landing a blow that thudded with a sick sound across the seeker's bare cheek.
Leon moved with the impact, but it still snapped his head to the side, leaving four deep, bloody gashes in the left side of his face. He snapped it back himself with an uncomfortable, wet sound, lips pulling back from red teeth. The expression on his face looked hardly human itself, a narrow-eyed, heavy-browed rictus of animal fury. Something shifted, too, in the way he held himself, though it was hard to pinpoint. He roared, and burst forwards, colliding with the knight, who was clearly unprepared for the sudden reversal in tactics.
His first blow landed heavily on the joint between the knight's shoulder and arm-plates, dislocating his left arm with a squelching pop. But Leon left no pauses between his strikes, the speed at which he moved increasing in tandem with the sheer savage force of the hits; he tore the knight's helmet free of his head, landed a punch directly to his throat, and slammed an armored elbow into the back of his neck when he doubled over. The wet crack that followed was evidence enough that the spine had broken there, but Leon did not back off, instead seizing the knight's head in both hands and twisting it until it was facing nearly completely backwards. Planting a foot against the templar's shoulder, the commander pulled, the motion sharp and sudden, and the knight's head came free of his body, stringy ligaments of muscle torn unevenly at the ends and dripping a cascade of blood.
Leon's shoulders heaved like a bellows, air moving in and out of his lungs with the heavy rapidity of overexertion. For a moment, he scanned the field, almost as though looking for something else upon which to visit his rage, but then his body abruptly gave out, the knight's head dropping from numb fingers. The seeker's violet eyes, wild with something unindentifiable, rolled back in his head, and he toppled to the ground with a weighty thud.
The last of the surviving Red Templars took a final downward stab of a sword from one of SĂ©verine's bunch before he stilled on the ground, and then the path and the red-lyrium laden caravan fell silent. Or at least, mostly silent. A few among the templars were still trying not to die from their injuries, and the scouts rushed down from their vantage points to help them get clear of the field. SĂ©verine unbuckled her shield, approaching one of her men and holding out the arm.
"Get this off me." Her words were rasped harshly, as though she was in more pain than she was letting on. The templar immediately sheathed his sword and took a strong grip on her shield, allowing SĂ©verine to rip her arm free with a muted cry. The red lyrium shards remained in the shield, leaving her left forearm to bleed freely. Despite that, she sighed in relief. "Templars!" she called. "Help your Commander. Get the wounded clear of the lyrium. Lia, send word back that the fight's over. Wounded coming back to camp, and we need a crew to dispose of this."
"Ser." Lia nodded, taking off at a run.
SĂ©verine accepted a bandage from a templar, using it to bind the wounds on her arm. She removed her helmet, wiping away a layer of sweat from her forehead and looking back towards the line of bushes that had originally concealed their ambush. "Estella! What's the status of the hostage?"
âUm, he's..." Stel's voice sounded weary, wearier than even a battle like that should have made it. For a moment, her face appeared above the line of a thicket of underbrush; apparently she had indeed transported him back to near where they'd begun the ambush. Even from this distance, it wasn't hard to tell how waxy her complexion wasâshe looked a great deal more ill than Zahra felt.
Her attention was diverted back downwards, though, and she made a small noise of distress, audible only because of the relative quiet that had fallen once more over the area.
âHe's dying."