The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 7)
07 Deepkolt 349 AC
EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI
Kysek stares at the dragon. Still concealed beneath the canopy, his concentration is total. His right hand closes into a fist. Above, the Bigby’s Crushing Hand closes on the dragon's neck.
The wyrm thrashes, forces its claws beneath the fingers and bending them back. Kysek twists his wrist in response. The colossal hand twists with it, dragging the dragon sideways.
The beast beats its wings furiously. It roars, enraged. Kysek doesn't react, guiding the fist with precision.
Meanwhile, his left hand moves to an entirely different rhythm, like a conductor leading an orchestra. He fingers sweep through the air. His conjured sword answers. A flick of two fingers turns it into a diving strike. A raised palm pulls it away before the dragon's claws can intercept. The sword draws blood again, slicing across the dragon's back.
Then another threat arrives. Raven streaks through the sky, following the trail of destruction and the dragon's furious roars. He draws Thorgrim with his free hand and lets Ra’ziir's spell drop him onto the dragon's back.
Nightwatcher strikes first. The black blade carves through scales along the dragon's shoulder, opening a deep wound and sending fresh blood spraying into the air. Thorgrim slices a tear through one of the dragon's wings.
The dragon spins and thrashes, trying to escape. It rolls over in the air, dislodging Raven in the process and strikes him with a claw that sends the elf hurtling toward the trees below.
ALSO EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI (from the second farmhouse)
Romulus and his half of Ra'ziir's scouts begin escorting Garrick Voss back to Tarithnesti. The formation is loose, four ahead, four behind, two close to their prisoner.
The Dragonarmy captain's weapons have been surrendered although he still wears his bloodied armor. His left arm has been bound in a sling and he walks with a limp but he holds his head upright, his gaze steady.
Romulus rides along, legs crisscrossed on Macula's back. He takes a puff off of his pipe, "So..."
The captain glances toward him, "So..?"
"How long have you been with the Dragonarmies?" The halfling asks.
"Eleven years," comes the answer almost immediately.
Romulus nods, "Long time. Was the chow good?"
Garrick laughs, "That is the question you want to ask, then? About the food? You are not like any kender I have ever met."
Romulus shrugs, "That's because I am not a Kender. In fact, I have only ever met one. I have, however, spent a lot of time among soldiers and one thing I have learned is that the food matters."
"An army does travel in its stomach they say," Garrick replies. After a moment, he adds, "Yes. Most of the time, we ate pretty well. Nothing to write home about, but it filled your belly and warmed your bones."
"Can't ask for much more than that. Food is very important to my people. We have a bit of a reputation as eaters." Romulus empties his pipe and slips it into a pocket.
The two lapsed into silence for a few minutes before Romulus asked his next question. "What was your dragon's name?" His voice was quieter this time.
Garrick took a long time answering. "Vhalystrix. We called her Lady Frost though."
Romulus nods.
The captain notices. "She was unpleasant."
That earns a surprised look from Romulus.
Garrick shrugged. "Arrogant. Ill-tempered. Thought everyone was beneath her." He pauses for a moment, "She was also brave."
Garrick takes a breath, almost as if he is unsure how to ask his next question. "I have never seen magic as potent as yours. Yet, you wear no robes?"
Romulus shrugs. "I am from a distant land so the robes of the Orders don't mean much to me. I did take the Test though so technically, I am a Red."
Garrick considers that for a moment. "A Red Robe?"
The captain glances at the scouts marching nearby. Then back to Romulus.
"I was under the impression that Red Robes specialized in balance."
Romulus chuckles. "No idea. I don't attend the meetings."
Garrick chuckles and shakes his head. "I spent eleven years fighting elves."
The halfling nods. "And?"
Garrick glances at the scouts escorting him.
"They are considerably less insufferable than Dragonarmy propaganda suggested."
One of the scouts immediately replies:
"We're saving the insufferable part until after you're interrogated."
Several scouts laugh and even Garrick smiles, just a little, at that.
AT THE CRYSTAL QUARRY
The hidden passage finally comes to an end. Cool air wafts into the tunnel, carrying the sounds of the river and the smell of the battle.
Grotto signals a stop.
He points to a pair of scouts, "You two and Green Sleeves, with me."
Cassidy immediately looks offended. "Green Sleeves is a song."
"Yup," the dwarf replies.
"It's a very good song." Cassidy insists.
Grotto smiles, "Then it's a compliment."
Cassidy narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"I don't think that's true," but the kender follows anyway.
The scouting party slips through the hidden opening. Grotto notes that the river is behind him, meaning that the tunnel passed beneath the Thon-Thalus before resurfacing.
Outside, the forest seems almost unnaturally peaceful compared to the battle fought at the mine entrance.
The small immediately begins a careful search, looking for tracks or other signs of passage while the river burbles by. The roars of dragons echo across the forest and the smell of smoke brushes by on the wind but there are no signs of impending danger.
"So..." the kender begins, "should we head toward the city, flee into the woods, or hunker down and wait?"
"Let us rest in the cave a bit. After darkness falls we stay off the roads and travel through the woods to the city. Too many vulnerable people we are escorting to take the roads during the day." Grotto claps the kender on a shoulder, "Good job looking after them in my absence, Mr Greenleaf!"
RA'ZIIR'S SQUAD (ON THE OUTSKIRTS OF TARITHNESTI)
In the air out at the edge of Tarithnesti's city limits, Ra’ziir focuses his magic on the nearer of the two red dragons, unleashing a spell meant to weaken its resilience and defenses.
With a cry of "Morsus oculi", he hurls his spell. A strange look crosses the dragon's face but there does not seem to be any other effect. He glances up. The dragon that had flown into the area of reversed gravity has yet to recover so he focuses on the same wyrm for his second spell.
"Horrida Marcescentia."
The devastating spell savages the nearest dragon. The beast immediately feels the effect. Scales crack. The membrane between the wings tighten and begin to flake away. Eyes sink slightly within their sockets. The dragon roars in genuine pain as moisture is ripped from living tissue.
"Hopefully that softened them up a bit." Ra'ziir guides Redclaw upward. The griffon climbs hard, seeking altitude over the approaching enemies. "We will need to get in close and introduce ourselves. Ready yourself!"
Redclaw screeches eagerly in response.
Above them, the dragon that encountered the reverse gravity field finally recovers and rights itself. Its rider regains control.
Together they abandon the engagement. The dragon folds its wings. Then dives straight toward the Protector's Tower and the beacon.
The wounded dragon roars. It banks sharply, turning to engage. Then something unexpected happens.
The baaz spreads its wings - not true dragon wings but he leathery gliding membranes possessed by its kind and streaks toward the dock by the river.
Bereft of rider, the crimson drake charges the bladesinger and his mount. Jaws flash, catching Redclaw by one of his rear legs, shredding muscle and yanking the griffon backwards.
THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER
The green dragon clings to the tower's exterior like some monstrous lizard from a nightmare. Its claws are buried deep in ancient stone. Chunks of masonry tumble from the walls as the wounded wyrm tears at the structure in a frenzy of rage.
Cedron's cloak carries him into the air, fluttering in the wind like a grand, blue banner. The priest's voice rises, strident and clear. It carries across the town. “THE PATH OF PROGRESS WILL SHINE! MALAZZARR LIGHTS THE WAY!”
The dragon turns a bloody eye toward him. Blackened scales frame the reptilian face. Dozens of cuts mar its neck and chest.
The dragon recoils violently, smoke rises from the point of impact and the stench of burned flesh fills the air.
The foreclaws sink deeper into the stone wall. The dragon pushes off with his hind legs and they come crashing back down against the wall.
The entire tower shakes. The beacon wobbles atop its pedestal.
Shadow's attention remains focused on the paralyzed white dragon. He floats through the wind barrier protecting the Tower.
The dragon lies motionless amid the rubble of shattered houses in the street below. The rider is unbuckling himself from the saddle as the dark elf dives on him.
Shadow smiles, calling upon a mainstay of wizards everywhere. A tiny spark streaks from his fingertip. It arcs across the battlefield toward the fallen dragon and its rider.
A sphere of orange-red flame erupts among the wreckage. The explosion blossoms through broken trees and shattered debris.
The rider vanishes completely. For several seconds, nothing can be seen inside the inferno. Only fire, smoke, and destruction are visible from above.
The dark elf dives on the downed dragon, his Phoenix-blessed rapier in hand.
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