The oars sliced quietly into the water; Amalia dare not lift them too high from the surface, lest the sound of the falling drops back to the sea give away their position. It was unlikely that any red templars would be watching the harbor so closely as to discern it over the ambient noise of the night, but it was better not to take chances. In a situation like this, one had to have a care with one's life, or one would certainly lose it.
Above, the thinning crescent sliver of the moon cast silvery light onto the mostly-smooth ocean, interrupted when they passed beneath the massive boom-chain. Though she did not spare the upward glance, she could still smell the algae along the metal links, evidence of a very long time spent submerged until recently. With skill and discretion—what other people mislabeled luck—it would fall back to its place at the bottom of the bay soon enough.
She spared a small nod for Sparrow and Rilien as their boat angled away; their destination necessitated a landing place further north along the docks. Amalia, however, aimed the rowboat she and Lia shared for a center-south destination.
"It is unlikely the red templars are wasting many resources controlling Darktown," she observed, voice low. She paddled a few times with the right oar only before dipping both beneath the surface again. "I was going to use the old Coterie tunnel that lets out near Taril's house, unless something you observed leads you to believe another would be better." If it still was Taril's house, anyway. Individuals and families tended to move as their sizes and the demand for space fluctuated over time.
"No, that sounds best." Lia answered quietly, her eyes not leaving the docks ahead, blonde hair concealed underneath her hood. Her cloak was waterproof, in mottled colors good for forest terrain, but dark enough that it was effectively black in the night. Amalia had given it to her, some years ago, when the young elf had been just a fledgling scout. The archer's bracer and the curved bone knife she wore as well, the craftsmanship withstanding the test of time and use. Lia kept an arrow nocked to her bowstring, though against anything other than one of the weaker Red Templar troops, it would prove to be of little use.
She'd worked against this enemy long enough to know that. "I hate them," she said softly, likely not expecting a response. As they came closer, it would become more dangerous to provide one.
Amalia elected only to nod slightly, an acknowledgment if not precisely an agreement. Hatred was a powerful motivator for some people, but Amalia had always instinctively tried to keep herself from it. It clouded her thinking, and she relied upon being clear and cold, even in her anger.
She brought the boat up to a pier, looping its rope around one of the jutting poles and securing it with an efficient knot. She gestured for Lia to precede her up, pulling her dark scarf over her head and adjusting it so that it covered her nose and mouth as well as her hair. Then she climbed out as well, pulling herself noiselessly onto the dock.
It was quieter than either of them had ever experienced Kirkwall before. Even in the dead of night there was usually some activity, despite how dangerous the streets had been at certain times in those years. Now there was just a stillness, like the city itself was petrified in fear while the Red Templars crawled over its skin. The only sounds were that of the water lapping against the docks, and the distant battles near the Alienage and Hightown. Amalia and Lia added no sound to that mix as they moved.
The Red Templars appeared to have made use of some ships, likely for the purposes of attacking the Gallows and then returning here, but there weren't enough to ferry an army. Sparse patrols along the docks and in the streets of Lowtown had to be avoided, but Amalia and Lia were more than up to the task, even if Lia was subconsciously drawing back her bowstring slightly any time they saw one. She showed restraint, and together they managed to slip down into Darktown unseen.
It didn't require a tracker to know that the rest of the army had come up through the underbelly of the city, erupting and swarming over Kirkwall from within and below. They left traces of corruption where they went, little red growths on the ground and on the walls, just taking root. Thankfully, their army seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere, with no real reason to leave any forces behind in Darktown. In all likelihood, it was now the safest place in the city.
Lia knew of the tunnel Amalia was planning to use, but hadn't used it much herself, considering how young she'd been before leaving Kirkwall, and how little reason she typically had for venturing into the depths of Darktown. She paused, waiting for Amalia to direct their next move.
The passage itself wasn't anything too elaborate. All it required was removing and replacing a sewage grate in the stone road, dropping the short distance to the ground, and then bearing to the right. Numerous other passages, long blocked off by deterioration and warping, passed by before Amalia located the door they wanted. It had stuck fast in the years since she'd last used it; it took some doing, but leverage eventually forced it open, allowing them to skirt the edges of Darktown before another passage took them up.
They emerged at the end of an alley, the neighborhood here peripheral to the Alienage proper. It almost blended into Lowtown, actually, but in this case, that turned out to be fortuitous. No sooner had they crept from the sewer back onto street level than there was a low, trilling whistle. Whippoorwill, or a good imitation of one. It was, of course, a signal of some sort; someone had been thorough enough to post a guard even here.
From the fact that no attack immediately followed, Amalia deduced that it probably wasn't the red templars. She turned to Lia, raising a brow. The signal sounded vaguely familiar, somehow.
Lia pulled back her hood, to better let whoever it was see who was infiltrating their Alienage, and took the arrow from her bowstring. She responded with a similar bird-call, slightly higher in pitch, and she smiled up at the as-of-yet unseen watcher. "You guys haven't forgotten me, right?"
A delighted ha escaped into the quiet, followed by the sounds of motion. A moment later, a head appeared over the lip of the nearest rooftop. Amalia recognized this Lion—Ainsley, one of the archers. "Thought you seemed familiar. Been hard to see straight for a few days, so I'm glad I checked." Ainsley grinned, leaving little doubt that it was something of a joke, before pointing to her left. "Much as I'd love to chat, Lia, we probably don't have too much longer before they push forward again, and you two are going to want to be somewhere safer when they do. Havard and the rest are helping the defenses down the way. We've got the main entrance blocked off, but I dunno how much longer it'll hold. Lots of injuries." She grimaced at that.
Amalia answered with a small nod, and they headed in the direction Ainsley had indicated, moving a little more quickly and less quietly now. There didn't seem to be any red templars in the immediate proximity, and the blockade was not hard to find. Improvised about as well as it could be from whatever was available—Amalia recognized several sturdy front doors, the bright and cheerful paint chipped and splintered away where they'd held firm against the surface of a red's shield or edge of a blade, perhaps.
It was clear from little more than a glance that the situation was bad; several of the defenders were sporting bandages and splints already, wearing whatever they had that was nearest to armor. It looked like no few of them had been hastily armed with whatever the Lions had at their disposal, the weapons and shields and leathers sized on average a fair bit too big for the elves that now donned them, but it was no doubt much better than they'd have been able to manage otherwise.
Directing the defenses was Havard, a man many years his commander's senior, grey hair slowly making the shift to white. He was far more confident with the armaments in his possession than anyone else, however, and recognized who was approaching immediately. "Watch the stakes," he said, using his longsword to point to the sharpened poles standing at a clever angle just in front of the main barricade. Amalia took heed, and swung over carefully.
Havard glanced between them, grim expression easing only slightly. "I'm thinking if you're here, Lucien's here. I'm also thinking he's having trouble getting in. How 'm I doin'?"
"Not bad," Lia answered. "Lucien's here, and the Inquisition's here, but the army's stuck outside the chains. Another team's trying to get to the west tower, Amalia and I volunteered for the east." She took stock of the defenses, grimacing. Nearby, people were noticing the new activity, where it had recently no doubt only been dreary routine of desperate defense. They looked out their windows, stood in their doorways, elves that weren't fighters and never had been, but now faced death if the enemy broke their line. Trapped in their own homes.
Lia swallowed. "The Reds will have a constant guard on that tower. We could reach it without being seen, but we'd never be able to kill the guards before more came, not without help." The obvious problem with going on any kind of attack was that it would significantly hurt their defense here. "We need to come up with something quick, though, before they finish regrouping and hit again."
Havard clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "So you need to get there, and with enough people not to get skewered on sight." He pressed his lips together in a thin line, then nodded slightly. "I think we can make that happen. As you might have noticed, we've fallen into a pattern here—they attack, we defend, they take a couple more of us down, then get out before we have a shot at the same." The area wasn't entirely without red templar corpses, but the defenders were indeed at an obvious disadvantage.
"Disrupting the pattern may take them off guard, but that involves taking the offensive with fewer people." Amalia finished the thought, and the mercenary captain grunted his agreement. "What if we went with everyone at once, then split once they'd shifted to defense?"
Havard's brows climbed his forehead. "They'd get bold again right quick if they saw that happen," he pointed out.
"So then we ensure they do not see." Unhooking a mid-sized pouch from its place at her thigh, she tossed it to him.
He caught it in his free hand, giving a soft 'hm' when he glanced inside. She only had three, but that many would produce enough smoke to obscure a wide area, at least temporarily. "Use those in advance of the charge. If we play our parts convincingly enough, they will mistake few for many for some time."
"And then what?" Havard asked, throwing the satchel to Idris, the company's Rivaini alchemist. No doubt he'd know what to do with them. "We can't retreat back here once they realize what's going on. We won't have enough people to hold the line, and the whole Alienage burns if we try."
"Run for the docks," Lia suggested. "They want to crush resistance, not destroy every home. Most of Lowtown still seems intact. They'll chase you, not go for the Alienage." It would be a risk, certainly, to leave the Alienage entirely exposed, but if they wouldn't have the manpower to defend it anyway... "I promise you we'll get that chain down, and Lucien will be on the first ship through. They'll land on the docks, and drive off the Reds."
That much seemed guaranteed. If they could get the chains down, the Red Templars wouldn't be able to hold off an army at the docks and make a breakthrough in Hightown. They would have to retreat, abandon their efforts on Lowtown. The other guarantee, unfortunately, was death, at least to some degree. They were a battered fighting force going up against superior numbers of a much more deadly enemy. Many had already died. And more would have to, for this to succeed.
Havard considered this for a moment, exchanging a weighted glance with Idris before nodding slowly. "All right. I'm going to have to take most of the Lions, but you've got Farah and Idris." He glanced quickly between the defenders. "And any of the elves that doesn't volunteer to be with me. Better shot at surviving that way, I suppose. Let's get ourselves set up, then try that smoke trick."
Exhausted and depleted or not, the defenders were still reasonably efficient, and it didn't take more than another minute or two to circulate the plan and collect volunteers. They only had time for the subtlest of affectionate goodbyes. Hands held until arms were outstretched, fingers slipping away. Quick kisses, husbands and wives leaving partners behind to fight and likely die. Those too wounded to keep fighting needing to be held back. Their community had been hardened and bonded by years of struggle and sacrifice, and this attack could break them no more than the others.
When there was no more time to delay, their assembled force surmounted their barricade and marshaled in the street. Lia had an arrow nocked again, her cloak left behind in the Alienage. Easier to move without it, no doubt. She reached to softly grab Havard's arm. "Hey. Don't hold any longer than you have to, all right? I've got some stories of my own to share with you for once, when all this is done."
Havard's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Aye, lass. I'll look forward to hearing them over a pint in the Hanged Man." He patted Lia briefly on the shoulder once, nodded at Amalia, then turned his attention to Ainsley.
"Get as many of the elves with bows as you can on the roof." She nodded and hopped to it while he organized the others on the ground. Amalia could not fault his strategy—while what they were doing was no doubt going to result in casualties, Havard clearly meant to minimize them, and to place the trained professionals against the brunt of the danger while keeping the armed civilians as safe as the situation would allow. It was a very Argent Lion sort of tactic to take.
The sound of a disorganized march drew their attention ahead. The Red Templars would be coming around the corner any second. It was now or over, so the order was given. Idris lit the smoke bombs and hurled them down the street, and a young woman in a maroon tunic Amalia did not recognize made sure to ferry the smoke in the right direction with a bit of magic to encourage the breeze. Before the smoke obscured the entire street, they could see the first few red ranks, heavily armed and armored, with at least a few knights among them.
The Argent Lions led the advance, moving under a volley from their back line, the best Lia and the other archers could manage. They were able to get off a few more volleys before the first ranks disappeared into the smoke ahead, with the Red Templars having no idea the size of the force engaging them. The sounds of pitched battle echoed out from ahead. Lia tilted her head sideways, indicating that they should get moving. They wouldn't have long. No one would.
Amalia nodded shortly, replacing the throwing knives she hadn't used at her leg and drawing a much longer dagger instead. As quietly as they could, their group peeled off from the others, leaving the Lions and those who had elected to stand with them to hold back the tide of red templars for as long as possible.
Idris took up point, his relatively light armor making next to no noise as he moved. In his right hand, he gripped a smooth metal pole with a short, dartlike point on one end; the other was currently closed around some kind of flask. Something a little more direct than smoke, she suspected. Farah fell back closer to Lia, an arrow already fitted to her bowstring, but pointed downwards, tension held short of a full draw. They kept the others between them, navigating as swiftly as they dared through the darkened neighborhood streets.
The tower was impossible to miss; to say that it dwarfed the buildings around it was a severe understatement. Though they encountered no resistance along the way, it was clear they weren't going to be able to sneak inside. The sounds of battle were still very audible behind them, enough that any guard posted to the tower would know something was out of the ordinary.
They skidded around a corner to find two archers and another pair of sword-armed guards on alert. Lia and Farah's arrows were loosed before the red templar archers could so much as draw theirs, though they both aimed for the same target. She was killed instantly, one arrow finding her throat while the other tore through the hood of her robe to crack the skull. The other archer drew up his shot next, finding one of the shoddily armored elves that had come along with them. The arrow hit him in the gut, and he dropped. There was no time for any of them to see to him. They had to push their way in.
Idris threw the flask in his hand; it cracked open on the second archer's chestplate, the fluid inside igniting and immolating him. Though it might not be enough to kill him at any speed, it certainly prevented him from firing, allowing the remainder of the group to close. One of the swordsmen went after the Rivaini man, her blade skidding off the pole he now gripped in both hands. He strafed quickly sideways, drawing her attention and leaving her flank open to assault.
Amalia didn't hesitate stepping in quickly. More red templars were appearing from behind those already in the fight; it would seem they'd run into a cluster of guards bigger than anticipated. Grimacing, Amalia planted her knife in the swordswoman's armpit, retracting it just as quickly and drawing a throwing dagger with her free hand. It flew true towards the archer, knocking him to his knees; an arrow from one of the elves was enough to finish the job.
Two more of the civilians fell to the remaining swordsman and his reinforcements. Amalia was considering their options when something much larger rounded the corner, the tainted sick of red lyrium rolling from him in waves. She had only heard of these—the knights. A protracted battle with one of those was going to end in several dead elves at best. She decided she didn't like those odds.
"Lia! We need to disengage; how do we do it?" Amalia parried another incoming strike; she could not remove her attention from the melee long enough to get a better sense of the environment. Not against opponents this dangerous. Those at a distance would be better able to pick out the best strategy, and she trusted Lia and her training to know what to look for.
"Inside!" Lia called out, her voice drawing nearer. "We have to get inside!" The reason for that seemed plain enough: this was their one chance to get the chain down. Even if they managed to regroup back at the Alienage, their numbers would be too devastated to try anything again, and the Red Templars would adapt to what they'd done. There was also the fact that much of the Red Templar force here was actually coming from inside the tower, but around it.
"Follow me!" Lia seemed inclined lead by example rather than shout and follow, and by the time she passed Amalia her bow was across her back, her knife in hand. She ducked under a swing of a sword that would've decapitated her, taking the time to stab her knife backwards near the templar's spine but nothing else. Killing the enemy was less important now than just getting past them.
Amalia spun to the left of her current opponent, sliding the knife across his throat, then swiftly kicking the slackening body back towards two approaching templars. She waited until the other had passed before she, too, disengaged, sprinting after the rest and letting the archers do most of the work fending off the chase for the moment.
The door slammed behind her as soon as she passed the threshold, Farah already laying a thick board across the door in hopes of holding off pursuit for as long as possible. It likely wouldn't be sufficient for long, but it did give them all a chance to take the spiraling staircase as fast as possible, the wooden steps creaking under the combined weight of the party stomping upwards. But it all held; Amalia made a note of the wooden construction of the stairs. Setting fire to them would be a very bad idea, but one they may have no choice but to try anyway—or one the templars might attempt if they succeeded.
The plank on the downstairs door gave way just as Lia reached the upper landing first. If their run upwards had been a frantic drumbeat, the templars were thunder. Passing through the one up the staircase, Amalia closed it behind her. There wasn't much in this room but the gate control itself, it seemed. Already the others had found what little was available to impede further entry: a heavy crate and some spare lengths of very thick chain, not that there was much to anchor it to.
"Hurry," she urged, perhaps needlessly. Anyone could hear the approaching enemies, and feel them, too. The crate was in place; Amalia picked up the chain and tossed one end to Farah, holding the other herself. The first few to break through would have considerable difficulty. By then she had to hope the boom chain itself would be down and the mechanism destroyed.
"Uh... okay." None of them had ever been in this room before, as it was supposed to be only accessible to the city guard. The mechanism for operating the chain appeared to be some kind of large wheel crank, requiring two people to operate. That wasn't a problem for them, but the large spear wedged into it was. With the others bracing the door, Lia sheathed her knife and tugged on the spear. It wouldn't budge. She planted a boot on the wheel pulled again, but some force was keeping it firmly stuck.
A heavy bang smashed against the door with enough force to almost throw everyone bracing it backwards. It wasn't going to be enough to hold the knight. Lia couldn't get the spear free. "Idris, help me with this!" She pointed to the other side of the crank. "Push on that, I think it'll take the weight off."
He was already moving to do it, taking hold of the crank and leaning into it with both his muscle and bodyweight. He had a considerable amount of each, but still the spear would not easily come free. Amalia grimaced, nodding at Farah across from her as another massive crash followed the first. The door groaned, buckling inwards partway as a crack appeared near the center. The two women braced as well as they could, others taking up the extra length of the chain behind them and planting themselves as close to the wall as possible.
The third hit took the door off its hinges completely. It held a moment more when it hit the chain, but then the red templar knight put his shoulder into it, and the defenders were forced to drop it. He pushed through the doorway, kicking aside the crate, the broad surface of his shield the first thing into the room. A wave of heady nausea followed, the scarlet crystals protruding from his arms and back pulsing with some kind of slow, corrupted heartbeat.
Amalia swallowed, and drew her knife.
Above, the thinning crescent sliver of the moon cast silvery light onto the mostly-smooth ocean, interrupted when they passed beneath the massive boom-chain. Though she did not spare the upward glance, she could still smell the algae along the metal links, evidence of a very long time spent submerged until recently. With skill and discretion—what other people mislabeled luck—it would fall back to its place at the bottom of the bay soon enough.
She spared a small nod for Sparrow and Rilien as their boat angled away; their destination necessitated a landing place further north along the docks. Amalia, however, aimed the rowboat she and Lia shared for a center-south destination.
"It is unlikely the red templars are wasting many resources controlling Darktown," she observed, voice low. She paddled a few times with the right oar only before dipping both beneath the surface again. "I was going to use the old Coterie tunnel that lets out near Taril's house, unless something you observed leads you to believe another would be better." If it still was Taril's house, anyway. Individuals and families tended to move as their sizes and the demand for space fluctuated over time.
"No, that sounds best." Lia answered quietly, her eyes not leaving the docks ahead, blonde hair concealed underneath her hood. Her cloak was waterproof, in mottled colors good for forest terrain, but dark enough that it was effectively black in the night. Amalia had given it to her, some years ago, when the young elf had been just a fledgling scout. The archer's bracer and the curved bone knife she wore as well, the craftsmanship withstanding the test of time and use. Lia kept an arrow nocked to her bowstring, though against anything other than one of the weaker Red Templar troops, it would prove to be of little use.
She'd worked against this enemy long enough to know that. "I hate them," she said softly, likely not expecting a response. As they came closer, it would become more dangerous to provide one.
Amalia elected only to nod slightly, an acknowledgment if not precisely an agreement. Hatred was a powerful motivator for some people, but Amalia had always instinctively tried to keep herself from it. It clouded her thinking, and she relied upon being clear and cold, even in her anger.
She brought the boat up to a pier, looping its rope around one of the jutting poles and securing it with an efficient knot. She gestured for Lia to precede her up, pulling her dark scarf over her head and adjusting it so that it covered her nose and mouth as well as her hair. Then she climbed out as well, pulling herself noiselessly onto the dock.
It was quieter than either of them had ever experienced Kirkwall before. Even in the dead of night there was usually some activity, despite how dangerous the streets had been at certain times in those years. Now there was just a stillness, like the city itself was petrified in fear while the Red Templars crawled over its skin. The only sounds were that of the water lapping against the docks, and the distant battles near the Alienage and Hightown. Amalia and Lia added no sound to that mix as they moved.
The Red Templars appeared to have made use of some ships, likely for the purposes of attacking the Gallows and then returning here, but there weren't enough to ferry an army. Sparse patrols along the docks and in the streets of Lowtown had to be avoided, but Amalia and Lia were more than up to the task, even if Lia was subconsciously drawing back her bowstring slightly any time they saw one. She showed restraint, and together they managed to slip down into Darktown unseen.
It didn't require a tracker to know that the rest of the army had come up through the underbelly of the city, erupting and swarming over Kirkwall from within and below. They left traces of corruption where they went, little red growths on the ground and on the walls, just taking root. Thankfully, their army seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere, with no real reason to leave any forces behind in Darktown. In all likelihood, it was now the safest place in the city.
Lia knew of the tunnel Amalia was planning to use, but hadn't used it much herself, considering how young she'd been before leaving Kirkwall, and how little reason she typically had for venturing into the depths of Darktown. She paused, waiting for Amalia to direct their next move.
The passage itself wasn't anything too elaborate. All it required was removing and replacing a sewage grate in the stone road, dropping the short distance to the ground, and then bearing to the right. Numerous other passages, long blocked off by deterioration and warping, passed by before Amalia located the door they wanted. It had stuck fast in the years since she'd last used it; it took some doing, but leverage eventually forced it open, allowing them to skirt the edges of Darktown before another passage took them up.
They emerged at the end of an alley, the neighborhood here peripheral to the Alienage proper. It almost blended into Lowtown, actually, but in this case, that turned out to be fortuitous. No sooner had they crept from the sewer back onto street level than there was a low, trilling whistle. Whippoorwill, or a good imitation of one. It was, of course, a signal of some sort; someone had been thorough enough to post a guard even here.
From the fact that no attack immediately followed, Amalia deduced that it probably wasn't the red templars. She turned to Lia, raising a brow. The signal sounded vaguely familiar, somehow.
Lia pulled back her hood, to better let whoever it was see who was infiltrating their Alienage, and took the arrow from her bowstring. She responded with a similar bird-call, slightly higher in pitch, and she smiled up at the as-of-yet unseen watcher. "You guys haven't forgotten me, right?"
A delighted ha escaped into the quiet, followed by the sounds of motion. A moment later, a head appeared over the lip of the nearest rooftop. Amalia recognized this Lion—Ainsley, one of the archers. "Thought you seemed familiar. Been hard to see straight for a few days, so I'm glad I checked." Ainsley grinned, leaving little doubt that it was something of a joke, before pointing to her left. "Much as I'd love to chat, Lia, we probably don't have too much longer before they push forward again, and you two are going to want to be somewhere safer when they do. Havard and the rest are helping the defenses down the way. We've got the main entrance blocked off, but I dunno how much longer it'll hold. Lots of injuries." She grimaced at that.
Amalia answered with a small nod, and they headed in the direction Ainsley had indicated, moving a little more quickly and less quietly now. There didn't seem to be any red templars in the immediate proximity, and the blockade was not hard to find. Improvised about as well as it could be from whatever was available—Amalia recognized several sturdy front doors, the bright and cheerful paint chipped and splintered away where they'd held firm against the surface of a red's shield or edge of a blade, perhaps.
It was clear from little more than a glance that the situation was bad; several of the defenders were sporting bandages and splints already, wearing whatever they had that was nearest to armor. It looked like no few of them had been hastily armed with whatever the Lions had at their disposal, the weapons and shields and leathers sized on average a fair bit too big for the elves that now donned them, but it was no doubt much better than they'd have been able to manage otherwise.
Directing the defenses was Havard, a man many years his commander's senior, grey hair slowly making the shift to white. He was far more confident with the armaments in his possession than anyone else, however, and recognized who was approaching immediately. "Watch the stakes," he said, using his longsword to point to the sharpened poles standing at a clever angle just in front of the main barricade. Amalia took heed, and swung over carefully.
Havard glanced between them, grim expression easing only slightly. "I'm thinking if you're here, Lucien's here. I'm also thinking he's having trouble getting in. How 'm I doin'?"
"Not bad," Lia answered. "Lucien's here, and the Inquisition's here, but the army's stuck outside the chains. Another team's trying to get to the west tower, Amalia and I volunteered for the east." She took stock of the defenses, grimacing. Nearby, people were noticing the new activity, where it had recently no doubt only been dreary routine of desperate defense. They looked out their windows, stood in their doorways, elves that weren't fighters and never had been, but now faced death if the enemy broke their line. Trapped in their own homes.
Lia swallowed. "The Reds will have a constant guard on that tower. We could reach it without being seen, but we'd never be able to kill the guards before more came, not without help." The obvious problem with going on any kind of attack was that it would significantly hurt their defense here. "We need to come up with something quick, though, before they finish regrouping and hit again."
Havard clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "So you need to get there, and with enough people not to get skewered on sight." He pressed his lips together in a thin line, then nodded slightly. "I think we can make that happen. As you might have noticed, we've fallen into a pattern here—they attack, we defend, they take a couple more of us down, then get out before we have a shot at the same." The area wasn't entirely without red templar corpses, but the defenders were indeed at an obvious disadvantage.
"Disrupting the pattern may take them off guard, but that involves taking the offensive with fewer people." Amalia finished the thought, and the mercenary captain grunted his agreement. "What if we went with everyone at once, then split once they'd shifted to defense?"
Havard's brows climbed his forehead. "They'd get bold again right quick if they saw that happen," he pointed out.
"So then we ensure they do not see." Unhooking a mid-sized pouch from its place at her thigh, she tossed it to him.
He caught it in his free hand, giving a soft 'hm' when he glanced inside. She only had three, but that many would produce enough smoke to obscure a wide area, at least temporarily. "Use those in advance of the charge. If we play our parts convincingly enough, they will mistake few for many for some time."
"And then what?" Havard asked, throwing the satchel to Idris, the company's Rivaini alchemist. No doubt he'd know what to do with them. "We can't retreat back here once they realize what's going on. We won't have enough people to hold the line, and the whole Alienage burns if we try."
"Run for the docks," Lia suggested. "They want to crush resistance, not destroy every home. Most of Lowtown still seems intact. They'll chase you, not go for the Alienage." It would be a risk, certainly, to leave the Alienage entirely exposed, but if they wouldn't have the manpower to defend it anyway... "I promise you we'll get that chain down, and Lucien will be on the first ship through. They'll land on the docks, and drive off the Reds."
That much seemed guaranteed. If they could get the chains down, the Red Templars wouldn't be able to hold off an army at the docks and make a breakthrough in Hightown. They would have to retreat, abandon their efforts on Lowtown. The other guarantee, unfortunately, was death, at least to some degree. They were a battered fighting force going up against superior numbers of a much more deadly enemy. Many had already died. And more would have to, for this to succeed.
Havard considered this for a moment, exchanging a weighted glance with Idris before nodding slowly. "All right. I'm going to have to take most of the Lions, but you've got Farah and Idris." He glanced quickly between the defenders. "And any of the elves that doesn't volunteer to be with me. Better shot at surviving that way, I suppose. Let's get ourselves set up, then try that smoke trick."
Exhausted and depleted or not, the defenders were still reasonably efficient, and it didn't take more than another minute or two to circulate the plan and collect volunteers. They only had time for the subtlest of affectionate goodbyes. Hands held until arms were outstretched, fingers slipping away. Quick kisses, husbands and wives leaving partners behind to fight and likely die. Those too wounded to keep fighting needing to be held back. Their community had been hardened and bonded by years of struggle and sacrifice, and this attack could break them no more than the others.
When there was no more time to delay, their assembled force surmounted their barricade and marshaled in the street. Lia had an arrow nocked again, her cloak left behind in the Alienage. Easier to move without it, no doubt. She reached to softly grab Havard's arm. "Hey. Don't hold any longer than you have to, all right? I've got some stories of my own to share with you for once, when all this is done."
Havard's mouth quirked into a half-smile. "Aye, lass. I'll look forward to hearing them over a pint in the Hanged Man." He patted Lia briefly on the shoulder once, nodded at Amalia, then turned his attention to Ainsley.
"Get as many of the elves with bows as you can on the roof." She nodded and hopped to it while he organized the others on the ground. Amalia could not fault his strategy—while what they were doing was no doubt going to result in casualties, Havard clearly meant to minimize them, and to place the trained professionals against the brunt of the danger while keeping the armed civilians as safe as the situation would allow. It was a very Argent Lion sort of tactic to take.
The sound of a disorganized march drew their attention ahead. The Red Templars would be coming around the corner any second. It was now or over, so the order was given. Idris lit the smoke bombs and hurled them down the street, and a young woman in a maroon tunic Amalia did not recognize made sure to ferry the smoke in the right direction with a bit of magic to encourage the breeze. Before the smoke obscured the entire street, they could see the first few red ranks, heavily armed and armored, with at least a few knights among them.
The Argent Lions led the advance, moving under a volley from their back line, the best Lia and the other archers could manage. They were able to get off a few more volleys before the first ranks disappeared into the smoke ahead, with the Red Templars having no idea the size of the force engaging them. The sounds of pitched battle echoed out from ahead. Lia tilted her head sideways, indicating that they should get moving. They wouldn't have long. No one would.
Amalia nodded shortly, replacing the throwing knives she hadn't used at her leg and drawing a much longer dagger instead. As quietly as they could, their group peeled off from the others, leaving the Lions and those who had elected to stand with them to hold back the tide of red templars for as long as possible.
Idris took up point, his relatively light armor making next to no noise as he moved. In his right hand, he gripped a smooth metal pole with a short, dartlike point on one end; the other was currently closed around some kind of flask. Something a little more direct than smoke, she suspected. Farah fell back closer to Lia, an arrow already fitted to her bowstring, but pointed downwards, tension held short of a full draw. They kept the others between them, navigating as swiftly as they dared through the darkened neighborhood streets.
The tower was impossible to miss; to say that it dwarfed the buildings around it was a severe understatement. Though they encountered no resistance along the way, it was clear they weren't going to be able to sneak inside. The sounds of battle were still very audible behind them, enough that any guard posted to the tower would know something was out of the ordinary.
They skidded around a corner to find two archers and another pair of sword-armed guards on alert. Lia and Farah's arrows were loosed before the red templar archers could so much as draw theirs, though they both aimed for the same target. She was killed instantly, one arrow finding her throat while the other tore through the hood of her robe to crack the skull. The other archer drew up his shot next, finding one of the shoddily armored elves that had come along with them. The arrow hit him in the gut, and he dropped. There was no time for any of them to see to him. They had to push their way in.
Idris threw the flask in his hand; it cracked open on the second archer's chestplate, the fluid inside igniting and immolating him. Though it might not be enough to kill him at any speed, it certainly prevented him from firing, allowing the remainder of the group to close. One of the swordsmen went after the Rivaini man, her blade skidding off the pole he now gripped in both hands. He strafed quickly sideways, drawing her attention and leaving her flank open to assault.
Amalia didn't hesitate stepping in quickly. More red templars were appearing from behind those already in the fight; it would seem they'd run into a cluster of guards bigger than anticipated. Grimacing, Amalia planted her knife in the swordswoman's armpit, retracting it just as quickly and drawing a throwing dagger with her free hand. It flew true towards the archer, knocking him to his knees; an arrow from one of the elves was enough to finish the job.
Two more of the civilians fell to the remaining swordsman and his reinforcements. Amalia was considering their options when something much larger rounded the corner, the tainted sick of red lyrium rolling from him in waves. She had only heard of these—the knights. A protracted battle with one of those was going to end in several dead elves at best. She decided she didn't like those odds.
"Lia! We need to disengage; how do we do it?" Amalia parried another incoming strike; she could not remove her attention from the melee long enough to get a better sense of the environment. Not against opponents this dangerous. Those at a distance would be better able to pick out the best strategy, and she trusted Lia and her training to know what to look for.
"Inside!" Lia called out, her voice drawing nearer. "We have to get inside!" The reason for that seemed plain enough: this was their one chance to get the chain down. Even if they managed to regroup back at the Alienage, their numbers would be too devastated to try anything again, and the Red Templars would adapt to what they'd done. There was also the fact that much of the Red Templar force here was actually coming from inside the tower, but around it.
"Follow me!" Lia seemed inclined lead by example rather than shout and follow, and by the time she passed Amalia her bow was across her back, her knife in hand. She ducked under a swing of a sword that would've decapitated her, taking the time to stab her knife backwards near the templar's spine but nothing else. Killing the enemy was less important now than just getting past them.
Amalia spun to the left of her current opponent, sliding the knife across his throat, then swiftly kicking the slackening body back towards two approaching templars. She waited until the other had passed before she, too, disengaged, sprinting after the rest and letting the archers do most of the work fending off the chase for the moment.
The door slammed behind her as soon as she passed the threshold, Farah already laying a thick board across the door in hopes of holding off pursuit for as long as possible. It likely wouldn't be sufficient for long, but it did give them all a chance to take the spiraling staircase as fast as possible, the wooden steps creaking under the combined weight of the party stomping upwards. But it all held; Amalia made a note of the wooden construction of the stairs. Setting fire to them would be a very bad idea, but one they may have no choice but to try anyway—or one the templars might attempt if they succeeded.
The plank on the downstairs door gave way just as Lia reached the upper landing first. If their run upwards had been a frantic drumbeat, the templars were thunder. Passing through the one up the staircase, Amalia closed it behind her. There wasn't much in this room but the gate control itself, it seemed. Already the others had found what little was available to impede further entry: a heavy crate and some spare lengths of very thick chain, not that there was much to anchor it to.
"Hurry," she urged, perhaps needlessly. Anyone could hear the approaching enemies, and feel them, too. The crate was in place; Amalia picked up the chain and tossed one end to Farah, holding the other herself. The first few to break through would have considerable difficulty. By then she had to hope the boom chain itself would be down and the mechanism destroyed.
"Uh... okay." None of them had ever been in this room before, as it was supposed to be only accessible to the city guard. The mechanism for operating the chain appeared to be some kind of large wheel crank, requiring two people to operate. That wasn't a problem for them, but the large spear wedged into it was. With the others bracing the door, Lia sheathed her knife and tugged on the spear. It wouldn't budge. She planted a boot on the wheel pulled again, but some force was keeping it firmly stuck.
A heavy bang smashed against the door with enough force to almost throw everyone bracing it backwards. It wasn't going to be enough to hold the knight. Lia couldn't get the spear free. "Idris, help me with this!" She pointed to the other side of the crank. "Push on that, I think it'll take the weight off."
He was already moving to do it, taking hold of the crank and leaning into it with both his muscle and bodyweight. He had a considerable amount of each, but still the spear would not easily come free. Amalia grimaced, nodding at Farah across from her as another massive crash followed the first. The door groaned, buckling inwards partway as a crack appeared near the center. The two women braced as well as they could, others taking up the extra length of the chain behind them and planting themselves as close to the wall as possible.
The third hit took the door off its hinges completely. It held a moment more when it hit the chain, but then the red templar knight put his shoulder into it, and the defenders were forced to drop it. He pushed through the doorway, kicking aside the crate, the broad surface of his shield the first thing into the room. A wave of heady nausea followed, the scarlet crystals protruding from his arms and back pulsing with some kind of slow, corrupted heartbeat.
Amalia swallowed, and drew her knife.