The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 3)

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI

The wind roared past Kysek’s ears. The chemical stench of the first dragon's chlorine breath still clung to Dusk. The elf twisted in his saddle, craning his neck to get a good look at the lance-wielding rider closing on him from behind and cast a spell.

Arcane power gathered around him, invisible tendrils of energy stretched out toward the mind of the rider. Kysek pushed his thoughts forward, searching for an opening in the man's concentration and, upon finding it, slipped inside.

The rider stiffened suddenly in his saddle. For a brief moment, he appeared confused. Then his expression went blank as his resistance crumbled against Kysek’s mental assault.

Kysek tells the lance wielding rider the other dragon rider has turned on him. He tells him he must strike the other dragon and rider first to gain the upper hand. There can be no mercy!

The command flowed through the magical link joining the elf's mind to that of the rider.

The dragonrider's eyes widened. For a split second, training warred against enchantment. Years of discipline screamed that something was wrong. The man had flown beside his fellow officer for months. They had shared camps, battles, victories. Then the domination crushed the doubt. The rider's hand tightened around his lance. He pulled on the reins, screaming, "Traitor!"

The mighty green beneath him yanked back, "You weak-minded fool! He's using an old elven mind trick!"

The wyrm reached up with a single claw and sliced through the harness holding its saddle. The rider fell away, plummeting into the trees below. The dragon snarled and began to draw in a breath.

The other dragon's robed rider waves his hands through the gestures of a spell. A moment later, an orange bead streaks toward Kysek. The elf pushes Dusk into a dive as the bead detonates. The griffon manages to make it to the edge of the blast instead of flying through it but she screams in pain as the fire scorches the skin laid bare by the corrosive breath she flew through earlier. Her wings begin to beat erratically and she drags her legs across the tops of several trees as she struggles to remain airborne.

The dragon pours on the speed, racing in front of its partner to snatch the beleaguered griffon. Kysek pulls hard to the left and Dusk responds, obeying her master. She nearly avoids the dragon's strike but is clipped on the hindquarters, eliciting another scream of pain. Blood begins seeping from a series of shallow slashes.

The now riderless dragon holds its breath as its companion interrupted its line of attack. It searches the sky and spots Bubo racing along just above the trees and snaps its jaws at the owl, wanting to take its frustration out on something, anything. Jagged teeth close on the owl and the dragon whips its head back and forth, shaking the owl before hurling it to the ground.

Dusk's breath was coming in ragged gasps. The cloud of poisonous gas and the fireball had taken a lot out of her. Every beat of her wings looked painful. Kysek felt Bubo hit the ground through their empathic link. The owl was badly injured but alive. His familiar told him that he was going to find a place to hide for the time being.

Kysek began looking for a spot where he could safely release his griffon, somewhere she would have of surviving. In a desperate attempt to buy time, Kysek’s hands moved.

Arcane power surged outward in a spiraling pressure, gathering moisture from the air itself as if the sky had been wrung like cloth. Clouds thickened unnaturally fast above the battlefield, darkening from harmless gray to something heavy and bruised. The temperature dropped with alarming speed.

Then the storm broke.

Hail, freezing cold and razor-edged, dropped from above. The dragons were battered by the falling ice. The long remaining rider pressed himself flat against his mount, shielding himself as best he could from the onslaught.

He directed Dusk into a dive and for the first time in a long time he prayed. Not to Everan Ilesere but to his friend and mentor, Malazzarr. "We need you with us on this one! You’ve got to find a way in!"

Then he saw a speck flying toward, from the east. It took a moment for his keen eyes to identify the flier. It was Raven racing through the air toward him, almost as if that prayer had been answered.

Kysek seeing the dragons and riders being pelted keeps Dusk in a dive. “We’re landing girl! You’ve got to stay out of sight! This is our only chance. This distraction could be the only way to save your life! Stay out of the air! Stay silent! Stay hidden!”, the elf commands Dusk. Once landed Kysek points out a direction of what he feels should be safety, “Run! Do not fly! Find cover!”

As Dusk runs along the forest floor, Kysek twists the gem set into the Ring of Gyges and vanishes from sight.

Above him, Raven, empowered by Ra'ziir's flight spell races past, swords in hand and angles toward the green dragon and its robed rider.

ALSO EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI (from the second farmhouse)

The dragon's crash had shaken the earth. Pine needles still fluttered to the ground. The beast thrashed, one wing tangled in some branches, its tail bent underneath its body. Powerful claws dug furrows in the still frozen earth. Romulus glanced skyward, tracking the path of the dragon that had avoided the impact with his dome of force. He held his staff in one hand and began casting again.

Power gathered around him in waves. He shouted, "MOVE!" to the scouts, ordering them away from the downed man and they scattered, diving behind tree trunks and boulders.

Arcane energy crackled around Romulus's outstretched hand. Lightning formed and changed. The blue-white arcs deepened into blazing orange flame as he reshaped the spell's elemental nature.

The dragon rolled over, staggering to its feet and locked eyes with the archmage. Its eyes widened, realization dawning.

Romulus released his spell. The effects on the dragon were apocalyptic. Scales blackened instantly where the flames struck. Steam exploded as frost still lingering on the ground and snow raining down from the shaken trees evaporated in an instant. The dragon's scream echoed through the forest.

Then the spell jumped. An arc of flame leapt from the dragon's burning body to strike the rider. He vanished inside a torrent of raging fire. By the time the inferno spent itself, the rider lay motionless, his armor glowing red in places. The dragon hadn't done much better. Its scales were cracked and charred. Smoke rose from its blasted body. One leg twitched weakly. The stink of burned scales hung thick in the air.

Romulus turned, his eyes scanning the sky. The other dragon had completed its turn and was approaching rapidly. Its rider lowered his lance as they closed on the wizard.

AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY

The scouts assume a defensive formation. Two of them overlap their shields and wedge them tightly against the walls of the mineshaft. Two take up positions right behind them with bows in hand. Two more archers line up in a third rank. Behind them, two more stand ready with longspears.

Cor takes command of the group. "First rank, you hold, no matter what, you hold. Archers, when those Baaz get up here, you fire and duck. Spearmen, when the archers drop out of your way, you stab and fall back so the archers can fire again. I will rotate you out if I think you're starting to look tired."

This draws some chuckles amongst the defenders. Then, the Baaz appear. The narrow tunnel restricts their numbers. Two are pushed in at the front of the squad. On Cor's command, the archers loose their arrows. The draconians' thick scales shrug off the first volley but both of the second shots draw blood. The draconians surge forward, chopping at the elven shields with their swords. More baaz pile in behind them, pushing forward, their bloodlust at a fever pitch and push the first two warriors up against the shield wall.

Both lead draconians are shot again but they manage to snake their swords through gaps in the elves' defense. One of the shieldbearers is stabbed in the neck and falls but an archer moves in and grabs his shield, holding it in place before the attacking baaz can capitalize on their success.

Another round of arrows slay the lead enemy warriors but the other six press their attack, stepping over their comrades' petrified bodies and continue the assault.

One grabs one of the shields and pulls it forward and slashes the elf holding it across the face with his sword. Cor moves another warrior into place, pulling the wounded scout out of harm's way.

The baaz who managed to land a hit takes an arrow in the shoulder for his trouble. The elves hold on, braving the attack, their shields remaining in place.

Archers continue firing and ducking. Spearmen thrust at any draconic face that peers over the shields. Two more draconians fall and another two are injured while they manage to wound two of the defenders.

The visions give Grotto a rush of adrenaline! Weary muscles ache no more, burning lungs soothed. The burning of his runes makes him smile! "Justice, vengeance, war! Yes  my lords! All shall be pleased today!" Thinks the faithful cleric. Grotto says a prayer to himself, "Lord Kiri-Jolith great bison, protect me from the unjust. Lord Sargannas mighty bull, help me rain vengeance down on those who prey upon the innocent. Lord Hanseath, guide my axe to route the vermin!"

Grotto continues to run until he sees the steps of the cavern. Once it is in sight, he sees that draconians have entered the tunnel. He can hear the fighting within. The clang of sword on shield and Cor's voice shouting orders to the defenders rises over the melee. As he enters the mine, he sees four draconians trapped between him and the elves.

Grotto realizes he is in a great position for a surprise attack. He orders his shield to guard his front side and readies his returning axe. He grasps his trusted weapon in both hands and throws with all his might aiming for the base of the skull on the rearmost draconian.

The axe spins end over end through the torchlit darkness.

THUNK!

The blade buries itself at the base of the rearmost kapak's skull. The draconian lurches forward with a strangled hiss. Dark blood spatters the tunnel wall as the force of the throw nearly drives it to its knees. Only sheer stubbornness—or draconian toughness—keeps it standing. It staggers, clutching at the wound, barely alive.

The axe tears free from its victim, spinning through the air back to Grotto’s outstretched hand.

For a heartbeat, the entire knot of combatants pauses. The other three draconians whirl around in shock, suddenly realizing they are trapped between two enemies. Ahead of them are the elves. Behind them stands an angry dwarf with a returning axe and nowhere for them to retreat.

RA'ZIIR'S SQUAD (FLYING TOWARD TARITHNESTI)

Ra'ziir raced along on Redclaw. The powerful griffon's wings beat with an unending endurance. The bladesinger's senses sharpened focusing on danger from all quarters, the forest below and especially the sky above.

He saw them first, Redclaw noticed them a half-second later. Two dragons, scales the color of molten steel, dropping out of the clouds. The two wyrms folded their wings and dove, plunging toward the black-robed elfemental. The dragons' riders, one a human armored in plate from head to tow, lowered his lance, taking aim at the eldritch knight. The other dragon bore a baaz draconian. Even from this distance, Ra'ziir could see that its yellow eyes were fixed on the elven scouts flying behind him.

Flames leak from between the dragons' teeth as they plunge toward the flying elves.

Ra'ziir barks out a spell and in that moment, reality freezes. The dragons hang suspended in midair, cold-blooded statues trapped in a single moment. The bladesinger moves quickly, the words of another spell pouring from his lips. The magic expands outward, soaking into the bones and blood of each airborne scout. Their bodies stiffen for an instant as mystic acceleration takes hold.

Ra’ziir signals once, and the scouts move.
They drop into the trees, slipping between frozen branches, around suspended clumps of snow and ice breath, threading paths that would be impossible in real time. The forest becomes a maze of stillness, and they are the only moving thread through it.

The scouts sprint under Haste’s surge, turning escape into a blur of motion long enough to break line of sight, break pursuit, and put distance between themselves and the falling jaws of the two dragons.

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER

Eilra's eyes go wide. She leans slightly to her left and shouts as if yelling to someone behind the Kapaks, "A little help, here!" The nearest Kapak glances over its shoulder only to see no one there and she strikes, taking advantage of the momentary distraction and sinking the point of her lead cutlass into its thigh. It hisses and jerks away.

"Tricksy elf will not be tricksing again." The creature licks his blade, smearing acidic saliva along the cutting edge. The draconian and the one fighting alongside of it stab at her. She kicks the open door, blocking one attack and parries the poisoned blade with her cutlasses.

A kapak, bleeding from several wounds, drops out of the sky and lands at the back of the group.

Cedron checks the area for any remaining or potential threats to the beacon. Then hearing the faint voice from below, leans out over the railing. He sees six kapaks at the base of the tower.

Cedron not knowing how many more enemies threaten the beacon and seeing the distance to the kapaks below, once again invokes his ring. He focuses on grabbing a kapak and slamming into another kapak below. “I must protect the beacon.” He tells himself.

The two kapaks are ripped off their footing as invisible force seizes them mid-stride. They collide hard in the air with a sickening crunch of scaled armor and bone, then drop in a tangled heap at the base of the tower steps.

The others snap their heads up, hissing, immediately breaking formation. Their disciplined push toward the door falters as panic creeps in—one draconian points upward, snarling, while another scrambles for cover behind a broken stone outcrop.

Shadow seeing Cedron leaning over the tower pointing his ring will click his heels together again and activate boots of speed, flies up behind Cedron. The dark elf conjures a floating disk that appears floating in the air, upright before him. A similar portal appears below behind Councilor Summerwalker.

“Ced, we are leaving. Where is the Commander?”

At that moment, Parnitha's scream echoes up from the stairwell. The commander appears a moment later, her eyes wide and feral, her jaws extended into a wolf-like snout. "Where are they?" She snarls, sees the portal, and charges through it.

"Oh. That's where she is." Shadow steps through his dimension door, reappearing a moment later behind Eilra - just in time to see Parnitha running toward the draconians. The dark elf reaches for a scroll and unrolls it as he prepares to cast another spell.