Road Trip to the Dragon Isles (Deserters)
10 Newkolt 349 AC
The sun has barely crept over the horizon when Arthur wakes and crawls out of his bedroll. The small camp is already bustling with activity. Altan, who stood the last watch with Granite, is stirring a pot whose savory aroma promises a simple but hearty breakfast.
Granite has roused Phineas and the pair are packing up a small tent while Davaa prepares the camels for the day's march.
As he passed Agnes, he paused just long enough to wrap the elf in a brief, warm hug. "How was the night?"
Agnes smiled faintly as she returned the embrace. "Peaceful." She glanced toward the brightening sky. "Too quiet though. I don't think I slept as well as I usually do."
Arthur released her and reached for a nearby waterskin. He took a long drink before slinging it back over his shoulder.
Agnes's smile faded. "I kept expecting to wake up to someone shouting."
She settled back onto her blanket, folded her legs beneath her, and closed her eyes. Within moments her breathing slowed as she entered her morning meditation, gathering her thoughts and preparing for the day ahead.
Granite looked east, gauging the sun's position. "If the road behaves itself and nobody decides ta kill us," he said with a grin, "we should reach Styx by nightfall."
"Once we've eaten and and everyone is ready, we head out." Arthur brushed Nightrend, got him saddled and ready to depart and went to check on Agnes.
She still sat in quiet meditation, her hands resting lightly upon her knees, her breathing slow and even. The bustle of the camp seemed to flow around her without disturbing her concentration. Arthur chose a spot beside her and lowered himself onto a nearby log. He said nothing.
When Agnes finally opened her eyes, she found Arthur sitting quietly beside her, gazing toward the eastern horizon.
She rose gracefully to her feet, brushing a few blades of grass from her robes. "Thank you for giving me time to finish."
Together they turned toward the waiting caravan, where Granite was already calling for everyone to mount up. With breakfast finished, camp struck, and the morning sun climbing steadily into the sky, the company was finally ready to set out on the last leg of the journey to Styx.
Within another twenty minutes, the group was on their way. The broad plains slowly gave way to rolling country. Grasslands yielded to scrub oak and scattered stands of pine. Ahead, the gray-blue shoulders of the Taol Mountains climbed steadily into the clouds. Granite rode at the head of the group, guiding the group by memory more than anything.
Near mid-morning, Granite stands up high in his camel's howdah and gazes toward the horizon. He signals a turn to the east. Far on the horizon, barely visible through the morning haze, stood the faint outline of stone towers.
The dwarf off-handedly comments, "Bloodspring, a Dragonarmy supply base. We're going around."
The group abandoned the worn wagon trail, following narrower paths that wound between rocky hills and shallow streams. It was slow going but the hills offered plenty of places to hide from enemy patrols. Thick groupings of pine trees interrupted long sightlines, and granite outcroppings hid them from distant observers.
By midday, the plains of Kern lay behind them.
The first true foothills of the Taol Mountains rose around the travelers. The air cooled noticeably and a mountain stream tumbled over smooth stones beside the trail, and the scent of pine replaced the dry smell of the open prairie.
The camels begin groaning excitedly when the sounds of the running water reach their ears and they ramble forward with determination.
Arthur inhales the cool pine-scented air. "That smell will never get old to me. I say water the animals and if we have time keep going?" Granite nods.
The caravan turned off the trail and descended into a broad, grassy hollow where the stream widened into a series of shallow pools beneath a stand of old pines.
Arthur slid from Nightrend's saddle before the horse had fully stopped.
Across the stream, perhaps ten yards away, someone stood up. Then another. Then five more. Figures emerged from beneath camouflage cloaks and behind fallen logs.
Arthur's hand immediately found Lawbringer's hilt. Davaa rested a hand on the grip of his greatsword. Altan quietly nocked an arrow.
There was an Ogre, two hobgoblins, two Baaz Draconians,⁹ and three humans.
One man, his beard several weeks overdue for trimming, slowly stepped forward. A faded sergeant's chevrons still clung to one sleeve. He reached down and unbuckled his sword belt and carefully laid the weapon on the ground. Arthur's eyes quickly took in the scene. The entire group looked exhausted. Torn cloaks, dented armor. Several sported stained bandages.
"We're not looking for trouble. Just some food if you can spare it, or medical supplies."
Granite called across the stream. "Who are you?"
The sergeant answered without hesitation.
"Men who chose life over the Dragon Queen. Nobody wants a fight. We just want to disappear."
"You're deserters." Arthur keeps his hand on Lawbringer, he looks them over looking to see if these are real wounds or self-inflicted superficial wounds to let our guards down. "What's your name?"
"Bren Halvik, used to be sergeant, Fifth Dragonarmy," the bearded man answer, "and you're right. We are deserters."
Arthur kept one hand resting on Lawbringer's pommel. His expression remained calm, but his eyes never stopped moving.
One man favored his left leg, putting almost no weight on it. Another's forearm was wrapped in a blood-soaked bandage, the elbow swollen and stiff. The ogre's left calf was crudely splinted with two saplings tied together by strips of cloak. One of the draconians held his arm protectively against his ribs. Each breath he took was slow.
The injuries looked real.
Phineas pipes up, "Used to be, you say?"
Bren nodded, "Aye. We stopped wearing the Queen's colors three weeks ago."
Granite snorted, "And they let you walk away?"
A humorless laugh escaped Bren. "They tried very hard not to." He motioned toward the wounded around him. "We are the ones who made it."
Agnes didn't smile. "What made you desert?"
Bren sighed, "For some, it was hunger. For others, it was our officers. For me... it was Styx."
Granite's expression changed instantly. "What about Styx?"
Bren looked surprised, "You don't know?"
"We do not know," Arthur looks over the men. He mutters to himself, "Dammit." He grabs his healers kit and tosses it over. "Have them all lay down the weapons and we will talk. Davaa, Altan... take left and right flanks." Arthur grabs a length of rope and tosses it over to them as well. "That will secure the splint better than the ribbons of cloak." He rests his hand on Lawbringer's hilt, "Just know if any of you try anything, we will defend ourselves."
One by one, each of the former soldiers lay down their arms. A sword here, a couple of daggers there, the ogre's massive club. Shields followed, along with a pair of battered helmets.
Bren sighed, "I wish I had better news."
The ex-sergeant stared at the stream for a long moment before speaking. "We marched on the city on the night of the New Year. Highlord Sallah Khan, demanded Styx's surrender. The governor refused so we surrounded the city. We pretended not to notice when refugees slipped past our lines and into the city. We had a blockade so no new supplies could make it into the city. We were going to starve them out, force a surrender." He paused for a moment and closed his eyes. "The city couldn't feed them all. The gates finally broke, the defenders were so weak with hunger they could no longer hold. We entered the city. We told them whoever laid down arms would be spared. Then Rivven Cairn arrived. She had decided to make an example of Styx. Entire families were slaughtered in the street. Houses were burned with people still inside."
Bren wiped his eyes. "I threw away my sword that night. I'd told myself for two years that I was protecting order, ending chaos and that war demanded hard choices."
His eyes met Arthur's.
"There wasn't a single honorable thing left about what happened in Styx. I walked out through the eastern gate before dawn."
He gestured toward the men behind him.
"They came with me."
Arthur's grip tightens around Lawbringer's handle and he grits his teeth, "Innocents....slaughtered for no good reason..." He closes his eyes for a moment trying to calm himself, slow deep breaths. After a moment he opens his eyes and looks at the sergeant. "Do you know if you were followed?" He walks over until he's within arm's reach, "Do you know if you were being tracked at all?"
"We haven't seen any sign of pursuit in days so we either lost them or they found bigger fish, as it were," Bren tells him.
Granite’s eyes narrowed. "What 'bigger' fish?"
The sergeant shrugged. "When Styx fell, the Dragonarmies sent patrols hard into the foothills after. Dragons out scouting. Looking for stragglers, deserters, survivors… anything that slipped out of the city.”
His expression tightened.
“At first, we saw them everywhere. Then, suddenly, we didn't. It was like they just gave up."
Granite's shoulders sagged, "I had friends in Styx."
Bren frowns, "I'm sorry."
The hobgoblin looked up, "The last patrol we did see wasn’t hunting us anymore.”
Agnes's gaze sharpened. “What were they doing?”
The ogre, his splint now reinforced with Arthur's rope, "Ya asks me, I say dey running."
She turned to look the seated giant-kin in the eye, "From what?"
The ogre scratched one ear, "Dunno. Heared dem say one word, doh. Dragons."
Davaa barked a short laugh. "The Dragonarmies don't run from dragons."
Bren nods, "We know. But, something had them spooked and we weren't sticking around to find out what."
Arthur looks to the skies, "What if there is something more powerful than the Dragonarmy out here and the Dragonarmy angered it and now it's taking them out?" He looks to Davaa, "You were hinting at a being yesterday when we were talking about the silence, tell me what you think it might be."
"What? Another army?" Davaa asked.
Arthur scratches his head, "An army doesnt have to be large in order to be destructive. It could be part of one. Or a being so dangerous even they know to back off."
The ogre shakes it head, "Nope. Deys runnin' from a dragon. I noes what's I heared."
For a moment, nobody spoke. Even the stream seemed louder in the pause that followed.
Arthur looks to Granite and Agnes, "Have you heard of a dragon that dangerous?
"The eldest of dragons could rout an army if they took a mind to it," the dwarf rumbles.
Agnes nods, "The strongest and most powerful also command potent magic. A wise army would flee. But why would one of the Dark Queen's dragons turn on her army?"
Davaa’s earlier half-laugh faded completely. His eyes narrowed as he looked past the deserters toward the mountains, as if measuring distance against memory. “A dragon makes sense,” he admitted slowly. “But not the way you describe it.”
Agnes turned slightly toward him, one eyebrow arched toward the Khur.
Davaa adjusted the strap across his chest.
“Armies do not break because of dragons. They break because of their leader's dragon dying, deserting… or changing allegiance.”
Granite’s jaw tightened. “Aye. Or going mad.”
Bren spoke quietly. “We didn’t see a dragon.”
He glanced toward the ogre, then the hobgoblin.“We saw Dragonarmy riders pulling back from the ridge like they’d been given new orders.”
The hobgoblin added, almost reluctantly,
“One minute they marching proper. Next minute… they not marching no more. They looking up.”
Agnes frowned. “At what?”
The hobgoblin hesitated. “Don't know. Sky?”
Arthur looks up, then back down at the deserters. "It's seems to be the most logical choice at the moment, either way I dont want to run into whatever it is."
Phineas clears his throat, "What do you want to, my dear boy? Press on to Styx for resupply or stretch our store0s thin and make straight for Hangman's Harbor?"
"We dont have the manpower to take on whatever's waiting for us in Styx..." He thinks for a moment, "I'd prefer to move past and stretch our supplies, but I want to put it to a vote. All in favor of going to Styx say 'aye'".
Granite immediately votes in favor of investigating the city. Davaa and Altan decline.
After a moment's deliberation, Agnes votes yes. "If there is something in the city that can turn dragons against Takhisis, I think it is absolutely imperative that we find out what it is."
Her voice remained calm, but there was conviction behind it. "Knowledge of that nature could change everything."
Phineas slowly shook his head. "Ah, yes. The classic adventurer response. We hear a rumor about a mysterious artifact, a fortress, a possible dragon uprising, and immediately decide that investigating the dangerous location is the responsible course of action."
Phineas shook his head, "We are operating under the assumption that the dragons have turned against the Dragonarmy without any proof. When we make assumptions, we make umptions out of you and me."
Just about every deserter turned to look at him.
Phineas blinked. "What? It's a perfectly logical phrase." He crossed his arms. "I say nay."
Arthur considered the words of his companions, especially Agnes's warning.
"If I plan it well, I can teleport us all to safety... but the animals would have to be left outside."
He stared into the distance, muttering under his breath. "Damn it..."
After a slow breath, his resolve settled in.
"If there's even a chance we can turn the tide of this war, we have to take it."
He looked to the others, his voice steady.
"We ride for Styx."
Bren and his men confer off to one side. "If you let us come with you to Hangman's Harbor, we'll go with you to Styx."
Granite raised an eyebrow. "You're offering to help us enter a Dragonarmy-occupied fortress?"
Bren gave a tired smile. "No. But we don't have enough food, water, or coin to make it out of Kern on our own. Swear to get us to the port and we will help you."
Arthur looks at the sergeant, "We will help but if any of you try and turn on us or turn us in we will end you. Just being honest, can you live with that?"
"Aye," Bren replies, "You have our word if we have yours."
"You have my word," Arthur answers.
The group allowed Nightrend and the camels to drink their fill and within thirty minutes they are on the road again.
Bren turns to the hobgoblin, "Varkesh, take point." He turns to the two Baaz, "Kassir, Tarakis, back him up." He looks at the ogre, Grumak, you'll bring up the rear. Let me know if your leg gets any worse." He looks at the other two humans in his group, "I want you two with Grumak."
The former Dragonarmy soldiers move with surprising discipline. The ogre, Grumak, uses his club as a cane, "Grumak be fine. Yells if leg falls off."
"A little warning before that happens would be appreciated, Grumak." Bren says.
The formation settled into place. Varkesh in front. Kassir and Tarakis behind him. Bren at the center.
Arthur's group protected in the middle.
Grumak and the two human deserters guarding the rear.
It was a better arrangement than Arthur expected. The next several hours passed without incident.
The trail wound deeper into the foothills of the Taol Mountains. The open plains disappeared behind them, replaced by rocky slopes, pine forests, and steep ravines where the trail would vanish amd reappear among the tall grass and underbrush.
The land was still quiet but the oppressive silence of the previous day felt more natural. The group crossed the burbling stream twice as it wound its way down from the higher elevations. Wind whistled softly through tree branches. Birds and insects sang their songs.
As afternoon faded toward evening, the trail climbed one final rise. Granite, riding near the front, eased his camel to a halt.
Then he pointed. "There."
Styx. The fortress city sat where the foothills of the Taol Mountains met the Miremier Sea. It was surrounded by high, black stone walls and towering battlements. Red and black banners hung from those walls.
Chimney and forge fires burned. Smoke rose slowly into the air. A single, impossibly tall spire of dark stone stood near the center of Styx, reaching far above the surrounding buildings. Its upper levels disappeared into the evening haze, and even from this distance it seemed to dominate the entire city. Granite nods in its direction, "The Governor's tower. Harbormaster has an office there. Tax office, city records, a barracks for the city watch."
Bren points. "It has more than that now. Look."
A red dragon was curled around the pointed, conical roof of the tower. From this distance, the crimson wyrm looked to be twice the size of Agnes in her natural body. Its eyes darted around constantly as it turned its head to and fro, surveying its captured domain.
Granite shrugs, "Probably."
Altan turns toward the dwarf. "Probably?"
The dwarf scratched his beard. "Yeah. Probably. Cities have secrets. Tunnels, drainage passages, smugglers routes. Wouldn't surprise me if there weren't less than a half-dozen ways to get into the city unseen."
He adjusts his belt. "I just never needed any of them. I was a merchant. Merchants enter through the gate, pay their taxes, and complain about the price of everything."
Altan opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it. After a moment, he nods "Yeah. I guess that makes sense."
Agnes turns her gaze upon the sergeant.
Bren shook his head, "Ma'am, if there was one, we never found it. Would've made taking the city much easier."
Phineas cleared his throat, "If I might make a suggestion, the harbor is likely our most viable means of ingress to the city."
"How's that, Professor?" Davaa asks.
Phineas explains, "Cities are built to keep armies out. They are not built to keep commerce out. Ports require movement. Supplies. Workers. Dockhands. Sailors. Inspectors. Cargo. There are always ways in and out of a harbor."
Bren considered that. "Makes sense. Except the Dragonarmies control the docks..."
"So we walk in like people who belong there," Altan replies.
"We....walk in like we belong...?" Arthur looks down at his armor and many sheathed weapons and then at Altan. "I look like I belong on the front lines of a battlefield...not a dock. But we can try?"
"Obviously, you will need a disguise," the Khur replies.
"And perhaps some acting lessons, My Knight," Agness added.
A few chuckles rolled through the group.
Granite nodded in agreement. "She has a point."
Grumak looked him over thoughtfully. "You stand too straight."
Arthur looked at the ogre. "What?"
The ogre demonstrated by puffing out his chest and squaring his shoulders. "You walk like boss." The ogre slumps over slight, "Dockman tired. Walk head down."
Bren nods, "He's right. I pegged you for an officer right away."
"And, my boy, you are, shall we say over-accessorized," Phineas added. "We shall have to do something about that."
Arthur looked at his weapons. "Lawbringer would draw a lot of attention alone. Alright, let's get this disguise ready." He lets out a sigh "I'll carry the sword from the khan and my dagger. That shouldn't be too out of the ordinary." He pauses, "Actually, I'll let you come up with the disguise. If I do it, I know for a fact we will get caught"
Phineas smiled. "My dear boy..." He adjusted his goggles. "...that is perhaps the wisest tactical assessment you have made all week."
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