startled into flight from the treetops. Dead bodies were everywhere, the smell of fresh blood thick in the air.
“Katriel?” Maric asked out loud, his voice shaky.
“Your Highness.” She nodded carefully, staring at him with her green eyes. She replaced the dagger in the sheath at her waist and stood up slowly, collecting her blue cloak around her.
“Didn’t I say . . . not to call me that? . . .” Maric grinned madly, feeling light-headed. The sense of numbness and distance had returned, and it felt as if Loghain and Rowan and Katriel were all staring at him from an absurdly long ways away. His strength drained from him, as if someone had opened up the spigot and let it flow.
He fainted.
“Maric!” Rowan shouted, running toward him as he went limp and fell to the mud. He was heavily wounded and pale, the broken arrow jutting out of his thigh looking particularly grave. When Rowan reached him, she realized quickly he was still breathing. He was shaking and had lost a lot of blood, but he was alive.
“Is he . . . ?” Loghain asked, almost fearing to go closer.
Rowan shook her head. “No. Not yet.”
Katriel stepped away from the soldier she had slain and approached Rowan. She unslung a small pack from her shoulder and offered it up. “I have bandages, and some salves,” she said quietly. “They may be of help.”
Rowan looked at her suspiciously but took the pack. “Thank you,” she said reluctantly. She tugged off her gauntlets and began rummaging.
Loghain stared at Katriel curiously as he went to retrieve his sword. She seemed to feel his gaze and regarded him in return, her eyes betraying nothing of her thoughts. “Did you have a question, my lord?”
“I’m wondering how you got here.”
She gestured toward the many horses that remained among the trees, some of which were already wandering away nervously. “Did you not see me arrive?”
“I simply find your arrival . . . convenient.”
She appeared unfazed by the question. “I did not arrive here by chance, my lord. I overheard these men talking about their attack on the Prince, but it was too late for me to send a message. I followed them out after the gate opened.” She glanced to where Maric lay, her concern evident. “I must confess I wasn’t certain what I would do. His Highness is most fortunate that you were here to defend him.”
Rowan stood up and interrupted. “Maric will recover, but Loghain, we need to get back. Who knows what could be happening?”
Loghain looked at Katriel. “Did you see anything on your way here?”
“Only that the battle had begun.”
“Damn. Then we will need to move quickly.”
Maric was slung over the back of Loghain’s warhorse, and the three of them raced back toward West Hill. It was not difficult to see which direction it lay in: already a great cloud of black smoke could be seen rising into the sky. It seemed as if an entire forest was burning, or perhaps it was the fortress itself. Magical fire was the likely culprit, though whether it was Wilhelm’s doing or more of the usurper’s mages’ was impossible to tell.
Twice as they drew closer they were forced to change course as they encountered the enemy. The first time was immediately before leaving the forest, when they found hundreds of soldiers marching in formation along the road. The enemy gave the hue and cry, but the three of them were able to evade them and avoid a chase. They rode carefully through the treacherous forest only to spot a field of soldiers in purple marching northward.
Loghain turned them about and circled around to the east. When they finally came out of the brush, the sight that greeted them was horrifying. A battlefield of the dead, bodies strewn about grotesquely. The thick smell of blood lingered over the field, and the low sound of anguished moans indicated that some of these men still lived. The battle had proceeded elsewhere into the hills, and indeed the clashing of arms could be heard. The battle was still going on.
It didn’t escape their notice that most of the men in the field belonged to the rebels. Rowan stared out at the scene, her face stone. Loghain thought it was probably best that Maric was unconscious for this.
Attempts to locate the fighting were thwarted. A change in the wind blew smoke across their path, confusing their sense of direction and making it difficult to breathe. They saw vague shapes that looked like groups of men running through the smoke, but Loghain avoided them for now. He needed to find the Arl—where was the main body of the rebel force? Had they holed up inside the fortress? Had they fled?
The sounds of battle and shouting became louder as they headed farther into the thick of the smoke, and it wasn’t long before they encountered a large group of chevaliers. The soldiers challenged them, and when they turned around and fled, the chevaliers gave chase.
It was a desperate, terrifying ride. Several times Loghain was afraid that Maric would slide off—it would be just like him to fall off a horse
When they finally came out of the smoke, Loghain realized they were out of the hills and heading south. Numbly, they sat there on their horses, staring at a brilliant sunset in the distance. The peace of that moment was unsettling. It seemed a crime somehow that the rest of Ferelden did not recognize what had happened. It seemed as if the earth itself should be buckling and heaving.
Loghain traded a look with Rowan, both of them covered in smoke and splattered with blood, and he knew she understood.
The rebel army had been routed. Their plan had been an utter failure.
Katriel watched with them in silence, and then quietly suggested that they should find shelter before dark. Maric would need to be properly tended to. Rowan nodded absently, and they began to ride down the rocky hillside. Loghain thought to cover their tracks—if the rebel force had been routed, it was possible that the usurper could be trying to chase the men down to finish them off. They could be coming this
