Chapter Eighty-Three: Battle-worn
I crept back across the bridge, glad that I wouldn't have to do it again until after we'd found Branka.
Seriously with the walking!
I sighed, and then tiptoed up past the Emissary, leaning against the wall behind it, daggers ready.
I didn't have to wait long until I heard the sound of booted feet marching. I strained to see in the dim light, but soon saw the flickering of moving torches in the middle of a mass of dwarves. They marched five across, the outer rows with shields overlapping, the dwarves equipped not only with swords or axes and shields, but also spears for the centre three rows to stab through the shield wall. About halfway back I saw a cluster of taller people on either side, and knew that was my party.
The darkspawn heard them at the same time as I, and there was an aura of anticipation in the air as they limbered up and prepped their weapons. About the time I could sense the other Grey Wardens, the darkspawn started growling; they were silenced by a sharp bark from the Emissary. A few of the archers popped off shots toward the group, but they all bounced off the raised shields, and the Emissary shouted again, what I assumed to be a scathing rebuke.
Just as the dwarves in front reached the end of the bridge, I heard Kardol shout out a command, and the dwarves began to charge forward as a group. The shield wall spread out to maintain the perimeter. The darkspawn, who'd been holding back until the dwarves exited the bridge, rushed forward and clashed with the first row of dwarves.
The Emissary hadn't summoned its magic yet, and I waited to take it out; I wanted all the other darkspawn occupied – they couldn't see me, but I still didn't want them taking pot shots in my direction. So I watched, as did it, as the front line dwarves filed out to the sides, carving a path through the hurlocks on either side; the groups of my companions hustled through the gaps, which then closed so that none of the hurlocks could turn and attack the Wardens' backs. Except for one Warden; I noticed Anders, standing well back and surrounded by dwarves, as he began chanting and sending out shafts of turquoise healing energies to wherever they were needed most.
I saw a couple of dwarves fall, swarmed by darkspawn, but the gap was immediately closed by the dwarves on either side, or by one from behind stepping forward with shield raised, and the protection of the shield wall was mostly maintained.
As the Wardens and companions began picking off the darkspawn archers, the Emissary growled something, and I felt the ground rumble slightly as the ogres lumbered forth into the fray. With that, the Emissary gathered his magic and began to cast.
I reached out through the greasy, tainted aura and seized his mana before he could react. I reached around and slit the Emissary's throat, but not as deeply as I normally would; I wanted it to remain alive, at least for a little while, while I used its mana. Black blood bubbled out through the laceration and spilled out of its ruined mouth, and it slowly dropped onto its knees at my feet. I kicked it over, and hastily started popping shields onto the Wardens, who I could barely see in the dim light, but could locate through the taint, and then trying to isolate individual companions and dwarves as well.
And I was glad I had; I looked to my left just in time to see Alistair bashed by the back of an ogre's massive hand, and go flying, but he popped right back up like a jack-in-the-box and dived back in, largely uninjured.
I turned to head in that direction when I heard a shout from the opposite side. I slowed to look, and could see Sten standing toe-to-toe with the Ogre, Aedan and Faren assisting him, but what drew my attention was the tall person with dark hair and dark skin standing with his hands over his ears, not paying attention, not even holding weapons.
Duncan.
With one last look over at Alistair's group – relieved to see that the ogre was down and they'd started attacking the hurlocks from the rear – I changed direction and headed towards Duncan. I cried out as I watched him sprout two arrows, one in the shoulder and one in the flank; he didn't react, other than to stagger at the momentum. As I closed the distance, I began to hear the screams pouring forth from his mouth.
I reached his side just as Sereda did; I carefully pulled Duncan down to sit, without disturbing the arrows, and then we both put our backs to him, ready to defend him from any darkspawn thinking to take advantage of his weakness.
Still apparently unable to sense or see me, a couple of genlocks and a hurlock approached, looking for an easy kill with Duncan curled up and Sereda's back apparently unprotected; fortunately they came one or two at a time, and I was able to use my crossed blades to deflect blows, pushing them off balance and getting in a few good swipes. Darkspawn blood poured out over my hands and arms, and soon there were three darkspawn corpses at my feet.
I was startled to look around and see that no more darkspawn were standing. The dwarves had begun dragging the injured away from the carnage, while everyone else just caught their breath. As soon as I was able, I screamed for Anders and dropped down to check on Duncan.
His breathing was ragged and blood speckled his lips; more blood poured out around the arrows, and his normally dark complexion had gone pale. I cradled his head, crooning reassuring nonsense in his ear; he didn't even seem to know I was there, and still held his head as though in pain.
Anders dropped down at my side.
"What? Oh. Arrows. Okay." He fumbled through his pack, coming out with several handfuls of bandages and some poultices, as well as something that looked like a pair of plyers. "Can you hold him? This is going to hurt."
"I don't think he'll notice. He didn't even twitch when he was hit." All the same I wrapped my arms carefully around his chest, pinning his own arms to his sides. "I think one punctured his lung. He's got blood in his mouth."
"Got it." Anders snapped the end off the arrow in the front of his shoulder, then the one on his flank, before deftly unbuckling Duncan's armour and tossing the chest piece out of the way. He took a deep breath, then reached in with the plyers. "Here we go."
He grabbed the arrow by the steel head and began wiggling it back out, stopping once to widen the hole with his dagger. Duncan's harsh breathing worsened, and I heard a whistling sound from the wound, but otherwise he didn't react at all.
Anders, however, swore. "Andraste's saggy tits! I need some help."
Aedan materialised at my side, startling me. "What do you need me to do?"
Anders soaked a handful of bandaging in something he poured out of a pouch at his belt, then handed it to Aedan. "Hold it over the wound. Hard as you can. It will hurt – maybe," he amended as he eyed Duncan's unseeing stare, "but it's pain, or death, so I'd pick pain. Push as hard as you can."
Aedan complied and the whistling sound decreased, while Anders examined the tip of the arrow quickly. "Not poisoned. Probably tainted, but that shouldn't be a problem. Okay, Sierra, switch sides."
I shuffled around and allowed Duncan to lay sideways against my shoulder as Anders checked out the arrow in his flank. "Thank the Maker, it's not that deep." Again with the plyers, he teased out the steel head. He slapped a poultice over the resulting hole, and I held it in place while he returned to the wound in the front of Duncan's shoulder.
By this time, Duncan's breaths were gasping and shallow, and his skin had taken on a distinctly grey tinge. Anders swore again before slapping his hand over the wound and shoving Aedan out of the way. A blue glow emanated from the area, and the wound closed up. The whistling stopped entirely, but Duncan's breathing didn't improve.
