The Battle for Tarithnesti (Part 9)

07 Deepkolt 349 AC

EN ROUTE TO TARITHNESTI

“Damn it! Dusk is injured! I must find her!” Kysek replies. “Dusk! Come on girl! The party here is over! We’ve got to get moving and get you help! Dusk! C’mon girl!”, he calls out with hope she can hear him and will come.

Raven lands beside his companion. He drops to one knee, fingers tracing along the ground, searching for signs of the griffon's passage - disturbed leaves, scuffed rocks, churned soil, a print in the snow.

The two elves spread out.

Kysek calls again. "Dusk! I'm here!"

A faint sound carries through the early spring air. Kysek and Raven both turn toward it. The trail leads them through the trees to a small clearing.

Dusk lies beneath the branches, battered and exhausted. Blood stains her side.

Her head lifts when she hears Kysek's voice. The griffon gives a weak call.

Kysek immediately drops beside her. "There you are."

Raven is by his friends' side a moment later. He opens his left hand, palm down and presses it against the earth. For a moment, nothing happens. Then, tiny green shoots push through the dead leaves around his fingers, blooming impossibly fast despite the cold spring air. Frost crystals form along the stems, glittering like spun sugar. The leaves curl inward, folding themselves into six perfect berries, each glowing softly with the quiet magic of the Feywild.

Raven plucks them gently and hands them to Kysek. "These should help."

ON THE BANK OF THE THON-THALAS

Grotto plods on, escorting the group.

In the far distance he hears faint sounds of battles. His runes burn but no more than an itch. "I know, I know! Me too!" He says to the runes.

Vaelin and Jensolyn come up on either side of him. "We can protect our people. You go and protect our city."

A moment later, an elf with blond hair, a mottled cloak worn over leather armor, bearing a spear and a familiar face appears.

Ornforithalas looks at Grotto and then the line of evacuees. "The city still stands?" the guard captain asks.

The boom of thunder and the roar of a dragon echo across the trees. The scout leader turns his head and gives a sharp whistle. Twenty elves, each in a camouflaged cloak glide past Grotto and the others, moving like ghosts through the woods. A grin spreads across Ornforithalas' face as he looks at Grotto. "You coming?"

THE PROTECTOR'S TOWER

Cedron hangs suspended in the dragon's mouth. Even with pain coursing through his body, even with the dragon's teeth biting into armor and flesh, Cedron's eyes remain fixed on the beacon. A defiant shout, “ONLY PROGRESS MATTERS!” as the minstrel-priest draws upon the divine power of Malazzarr once again and swiftly imbues his Harmonic Blade with divine flame.

The fire flickers in the dragon's remaining eye. It shrinks back, hesitating for just a moment. Cedron uses the moment to escape from the dragon's jaws.

The Harmonic Blade hums, matching the pitch and tempo of the charging Beacon Crystal, synchronizing with its rising crescendo of energy. The weapon pulses in time with the massive gemstone.

The Witching Cloak flares, its folds catching the wind and holding Cedron aloft. Arcs of corsucating energy from the crystal merge with the holy fire as the bard dives toward his jade-scaled foes.

The first blow splits fire-blackened scales. Dragon howls echo across the city as Cedron strikes twice more but the wyrm's thick armor turns his blows aside.

Cedron floats above the tower platform, blade blazing, cloak billowing around him.

The green dragon has had enough. Dozens of wounds from the blade barrier cover its body. Scales are blackened from divine fire. One eye is ruined.

The wyrm drives its rear claws deeper into the tower wall. Stone crumbles as talons sink into ancient masonry. The tower leans slightly to the side. More stones crack beneath the dragon's weight. Hate burns in its remaining eye. Its head snaps forward like a massive snake. Cedron brings his fiery blade up to deflect the strike but isn't fast enough. Teeth crash against chain armor. The mesh keeps the fangs from tearing through his flesh but the crushing pressure sends waves of agony through his chest as ribs buckle beneath the force of the bite.

Both foreclaws sweep forward. One catches the edge of his armor and tears across it, ripping through metal and sending him spinning. The second follows immediately. A massive claw strikes with enough force to send him tumbling through the air. For several seconds, all the priest can see is sky, tower, ground, sky, tower, ground, sky, tower, ground, all flashing before his eyes.

The Witching Cloak billows outward, arresting his fall. The tower shakes. The crystal flares, now blinding in its intensity with only seconds remaining before it activates.

Shadow curses in Draconic at the wrym, “DIE ALREADY!” He speaks a single mystic word. A glowing blue orb appears in his hand. He hurls the cerulean ball at the White Dragon. Scales crack and peel as the magic sphere strikes. For a moment, the dragon slows and Shadow is certain that the spell's secondary effect, paralysis has taken hold but the pale reptile shakes its head and roars.

The dark elf mentally commands his flying dagger to strike from the side. The blade homes in on a vulnerable spot and sinks as deeply into its target as it can. The dragon's head snaps to one side to deal with yet another annoyance as the Circlet on Shadow’s brow flares, hastening the casting of his true intended attack.

Three beams of fire erupt from his hand and bore into the white wyrm's flank. Steam rises as the flames burrow into the dragon's flesh, leaving boiled blood and viscera it their wake. The dragon slumps, its attempt to remain standing failing as its legs give out and the fire bursts out of the other side of its body.

Shadow dives on the brute, thrusting with Swiftwind. The enchanted rapier pierces scales and energy flows down the blade. Energy meant to hurl a foe backwards slams into the dragon but its great size is too much for the sword to move and Shadow is pushed back instead but the dragon falls, slain under the last surge of the drow's assault.

The Baaz dragonrider who leapt from the back of the now slain red dragon lands at the base of the tower. The kapaks who were trying to batter their way in are cowering behind some of the rubble dislodged by the green dragon above, their makeshift ram lies splintered on the ground.

He snorts at them in contempt, "Pathetic". and raises his left hand and triggers his ring. A blast of energy slams Shadow’s conjured wall of stone and cracks it. The impact echoes through the street like a thunderclap. Cracks spiderweb across the magically formed barrier. Stone groans. Dust falls from the tower walls.

"On your feet, scum. We're taking this tower!" The Draconian draws a greatsword from the sheath on his back and raises his hand again.

Inside, Parnitha and Eilra stand in shock as cracks appear in the summoned stone.

RA'ZIIR'S SQUAD (ABOVE THE STREETS OF TARITHNESTI)

Through the mindlink “Red one is down… its friend is close. I can see the tower under attack. Heading there now, unless I find the other dragon first…” Ra’ziir relays to Raven.

Ra’ziir surveys the sky around and above himself and Redclaw, “I don’t know where the other one got off to, so keep your guard up. Let’s make for the tower in the meantime.” He casts another look around, trying to locate what remains of his scouts, “Hopefully some of them survived…” the Bladesinger says under his breath as he wheels Redclaw around and makes for the tower.

He spots the last two flying toward the Protector's Tower in pursuit of the Red Dragon and its rider.

Ra’ziir spurs Redclaw onward, pointing, “There!! That Red is destined for your claws!! Let’s go!!!” The Bladesinger shouts, urging the griffon toward the battle ahead and focusing its fury on the Red Wyrm, first and foremost.

As his mount races toward the conflict, Ra’ziir quickly inventories his remaining spells.

When he gets within range of his scouts, Ra’ziir pulls forth two small statuettes, each the form of a griffon… He tosses them toward the two scouts and speaks a command word, “Icarus! Daedalus! Each of you carry one of these scouts and follow their commands!”

The statues transform as they fall, morphing into the noble mounts they are modeled after and make a beeline toward the flying scouts.

The red dragon's rider lays one hand on his mount's back. The dragon nods its head and unleashes a deafening blast. Rings of concentric fire slam into the side of the Protector's Tower just below the green dragon battling Cedron. Chunks of stone are blasted off the side of the structure and rain down, crushing the dock at the base of the structure.