The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 5)

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI

Beneath the sheltering canopy of the trees, Kysek floats along, just inches above the ground.

The dragon circled, searching for the gold elf wizard that had charmed its rider while the conjured sword pursued it.

Kysek, concealed by his ring of invisibility, kept to the shadows, moved as if he wasn't magically hidden. He knew better than to trust such a simple illusion to deceive a dragon's other senses.

Realizing that Raven has somehow found him; Kysek keeps the conjured sword moving toward its target and strikes. He stays out of sight utilizing his ring, but pays attention to still stick to shadows and move silently. He wills the sword to continue its assault on the dragon whose rider he just dispatched.

The blade flies straight and true, slashing the green behemoth across its chest before darting away.

Meanwhile, Raven arrests his fall away from the other jade-hued wyrm and flies back up at its underbelly. Nightwatcher flashes. Bloody red mist begins raining down onto the forest below as the adamantite blade quickly opens four slices in the dragon's scales.

The dragon roars and spreads its wings wide, halting its forward momentum and allowing the flying swordsman to shoot past. Its head snaps forward like a striking snake. Raven twists aside, quick enough to avoid being skewered by enormous fangs but not fast enough to duck the blow completely. The dragon's foreclaws lash out, ripping across his back and leaving deep furrows in his flesh. A sharp turn to the left brings the tail snapping around like a whip. The crack thunders over the forest, slamming Raven with almost full force, sending him spiraling down toward the trees. The elf pulls up, snarling and races back toward the battle.

The first dragon rolls over in mid-air and snaps its fist shut, engulfing the conjured, flying blade in a mighty claw.

Kysek concentrates on the his summoned sword, commanding it to twists from hilt to tip to free it from the dragon's grip. Separated from its creator's sight, the sword attempts to return to him. The dragon allows the pull of the weapon to guide it toward his prey.

ALSO EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI (from the second farmhouse)

Romulus looks around, quickly surveying the battlefield and gauging the distance between the two wounded dragons. Smoke and steam rise from the ground and trees. The roars of the two enraged wyrms drowns out his chanting as he speaks the words of his final Chain Lightning spell.

Blue-white energy crackles between his fingers, shifting to red-orange as the spell builds toward its climax. He unleashes the power, a torrent of concentrated flame that erupts from Romulus's outstretched hand.

It streaks across the sky and strikes the less-wounded dragon squarely in the chest. The dragon screams as fire washes over its scales, burning through wing membranes and flesh alike. The beast recoils, desperately trying to stay airborne as the magical inferno consumes it but it goes into a spiral, falling toward the forest floor and crashing down, impaling itself on the trees below.

Then the spell arcs.

Like its lightning counterpart, the magic leaps to a second target. Living flame lashes across the sky toward the other dragon, the one already turning away from the battle. The fire catches it in mid-bank.

Then it is simply gone, a rapidly expanding cloud of ash and incandescent embers scattered by the wind.

Silence falls over the forest for a few moments, the the scouts begin to cheer as they emerge from their hiding places.

AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY

The sounds of the battle have faded away. The moans of the wounded have been eased. The sound of axes and hatchets biting into wood echo in the tunnel as Grotto and the elven defenders work on collapsing the support beams at the mine entrance.

With a final groan, the timber gives way. Rocks fall, blocking the entrance. Stone crashes into stone. Dust billows through the passage. When the echoes finally fade, the route behind them is choked with rubble.

The dwarf hefts his axe and turns toward the deeper tunnels. "Come with me, Mr. Green Jeans."

The Kender rolls his eyes. "Green Jeans?" the bard sputters. "Green Jeans? Do you have any idea how many taverns I've played? How many songs I've written? How many audiences have chanted my name?" The kender gestures dramatically toward himself. "I am Cassidy Greenbean, beloved by tens of thousands of adorning fans, three Dwarven thanes, an Ogre chieftain, two pirate captains, and a remarkably attentive herd of cows."

Grotto merely grins and starts walking. "Aye. Mr. Green Jeans."

Cassidy throws his hands into the air. "No respect."

Grotto laughs. "Let's be sure we clear a safe path for the others." He points toward the front, "Where does this tunnel come out?"

"A few miles downriver, there's a hidden door inside of a hollow tree," Cor replies, "Not easily found from the outside.

The warriors spread out, interspersed between miners, refugees, and children. The tunnel stretches into darkness ahead, illuminated only by lantern light, glowing fungi, and the occasional gleam of crystal embedded in the quarry walls.

As he advances, the runes beneath his skin radiate the faint warmth of approval.

The bison's warning still lingers in his thoughts, not a command to stop, but a reminder to remain vigilant and informed.

The quarry's survivors move deeper into the tunnels, toward uncertain safety, while behind them the collapsed passage guards their rear and ahead of them the darkness waits to reveal whatever challenges remain.

RA'ZIIR'S SQUAD (FLYING TOWARD TARITHNESTI)

Miles from Tarithnesti, Ra'ziir and the surviving scouts continue their desperate flight.

Haste still courses through their bodies, turning an exhausting journey into a blur of motion. Cloaks snap in the wind. Branches race beneath them. Every so often, someone looks back to see if the dragon riders are catching up but see no sign of crimson wings against the blue sky.

Far behind the flying elves, the two red dragons circle one last time over the stretch of forest where their prey vanished.

The armored rider finally gestures with his lance, "Proceed to the primary target."

The baaz draconian rider straightens in the saddle and salutes, pounding a clenched fist against his chest in acknowledgment.

The dragons turn together, angling toward Tarithnesti and pour on the speed, racing through the chill spring air toward the city.

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER

Cedron and Shadow race up the steps to the second floor training hall and leap out of the window. The Witching Cloak opens like a pair of deep blue wings amd carries the bard aloft while the drow follows close behind, his flight provided by his previously cast spell.

Monents later, the pair reach the beacon atop the power. The WHIRRRRRRR has become all-encompassing.  The entire crystal glows with a flickering radiance, visible even in the early morning light. The entire top of the Tower vibrates.

Then, something draws their attention. Cedron notices it first but as he starts to say something to Shadow, the dark elf spots them too.

A pair of dragons - one white and one green - both bear riders upon their backs.

And they are flying toward the Tower from the quarry on the far side of the river.

Parnitha and Eilra remain just inside the entryway, weapons at the ready.

THUD....THUD....THUD....

Each strike echoes through the foundation of the Protector's Tower.Outside, the surviving kapaks have dragged fallen timbers from the battlefield and fashioned a crude battering ram. The heavy log slams into the stone barrier again and again, sending chips of rock skittering across the ground.

Shadow's conjured wall holds - for now.

Atop the Tower, the Beacon thrums with energy. The constant WHIRRRRRRR has become near deafening. Cedron and Shadow can feel the stone vibrate beneath their feet. Hair stands on end, responding to the mystical charge building inside of the massive blue crystal.

Cedron speaks a single word. His outline immediately blurs and shifts, his true position becoming difficult to discern. "Shadow, they intend to destroy the tower." He has to shout to be heard. "We can take shelter from their breath in my cloak. What do you suggest?"

The dark elf doesn't answer immediately. He looks at the dragons, judging their distance to the Tower.

"We need more time," he thinks to himself. A snap of his fingers, combined with arcane intent and a word of power follows.

Reality freezes for everyone except him. The approaching wyrms hang motionless in the air. The beacon's crackling energy stops mid-flash. He begins casting immediately. His first spell sinks into his flesh, warding him against chill and snow, shielding him from the bite of arctic air, and most importantly, protecting him against the icy breath of the frost wyrm bearing down on the Tower.

As time resumes, he casts a second spell. He anchors it against the very lip of the walkway surrounding the beacon. A barrier of wind erupts upward, sheathing the beacon in a wall that will turn aside the dragons' breath attacks - deflecting ice and scattering gases, buying a few seconds.

Shadow flies upward and looks over the top of the wall. Both dragons are closer than he would like. They split, the green sweeping left and climbing while the white circles around to the right and begins to descend.

Cedron stands beside the crystal, his displaced image flickering and shifting. The Witching Cloak snaps in the wind generated by Shadow's magical barrier. He grips his blade tightly, watching the dragons approach.

For weeks he has fought. For weeks, he has organized defenses. Then, for the first time since arriving on Krynn, he senses a familiar presence touch his soul.

"CEDRON."

For a brief moment, the sounds of battle seem distant.The dragons, the wind, the steady charge of beacon all fade away beneath the simple miracle of hearing his patron once again.

"THE BEACON MUST SHINE."

Power flows into the priest.

"THE COMMUNITY MUST BE DEFENDED."

Prayers fill his mind.

"YOU ARE NOT ALONE..."

Shadow tracks the white dragon as it banks north. He watched it turn, angling its body toward the Tower, claws extended to slam into the side of the structure.

The dark elf watches every inch of its approach. The circlet upon his brow flashes and magic races through him. He begins a spell few ever see cast, one taken from the spellbook of a wizard he had defeated back in the desert of Shadizar.

"Flying Jambiya."

As the incantation ends, a dagger suddenly tears itself free from the sheath hidden in Shadow's boot.

The blade hangs in the air for a fraction of a second.

Then it moves, racing unerringly toward its prey - the dragonrider. The dagger slips between the seams of the rider's armor, piercing the flesh beneath and unleashes its magical payload. Multiple magical missiles erupt from the blade. The rider screams as the enchanted darts burst from the dagger and slam into his body. He grabs the weapon amd yanks it free, hurling it toward the ground.

Meanwhile, Shadow is already casting again. A Greater Chromatic Orb forms, sphere of black power roughly four inches across. Unstable energy crawl across its surface while Shadow carefully maintains the spell but he does not throw it. Not yet. The dragon is still too far away. The orb waits in his hand, humming with restrained destruction.

Cedron steps forward to the edge of the tower, raising his blade toward the heavens. His voice rings across Tarithnesti. “PROGRESS IS INEVITABLE!"

The words echo across the town.

"MALAZZARR IS THE WAY!"

The beacon continues to flash, building toward a crescendo.

"THE BEACON MUST SHINE!” Chants Cedron as the divine energy once again courses through him.

Malazzarr answers.

The sky itself seems to tear open above the green dragon. A point of brilliant red-gold light appears high overhead. Then it falls.

A roaring column of holy fire roars downward from the heavens.

The green dragon has only a heartbeat to react. It twists violently, sensing danger but it's too slow. The verdant-scaled dragon plunges into the pillar of fire. A moment later, the wyrm emerges from the flames, trailing fire and smoke. Its rider's body is completely immolated, a charred form still strapped in to the saddle on the dragon's back.

The wyrm shrieks in pain and rage and pulls up, heading straight for the spot where Cedron and Shadow stand.