Sithelnost - Aftermath (Part 2)
08 Newkolt 349 AC
- - - - -
Grotto continued to take dragon scales from the fallen beast. After he had plenty to supplement his plate and shield, he made his way to the makeshift hospital which was the manor house. He looked for his friends first to see that his most powerful allies are healed. He then made his way to the rest of the wounded and healed them until all his magic and daily charges of his items had been exhausted. For the rest, he went about things the old-fashioned way with bandages and his alchemical salves. He offered drugs to those in most distress to dull the pain of the wounds from abusive captivity and battle.
After he completed his rounds, he told another healer in the group that he must go rest and pray and that he would be off to himself in a quiet corner of the home
Grotto went to a bedroom. At one time before the sacking of the manor, he could tell the room was a fine and splendid place fit for royalty. Now it was in shambles, destroyed and looted of anything the vermin felt was valuable. His runes burned with disapproval at the sight. He heard the voices in his head. "Vengeance must be doled!" Said the bull. "Justice must be served!" Said the bison. Still silence from his third patron.
Grotto prayed, "Justice will be served my lord. Grant me your boons" He said in completion of prayers to Kiri-Jolith
Grotto then continued, "Vengeance will be harsh, my lord. Grant me your boons" Grotto said in completion of his prayers to Sargonnas
Grotto then observerd the silence in his mind. "Where are you, my dear Hanseath? It has been very long since I have heard your voice. Do the battles I wage in your name not please you? Guide my axe my lord" Grotto said in conclusion to Hanseath.
The vision returned. A battlefield choked with bodies. The golden bison and the crimson bull appeared. They both strode toward Grotto. Grotto felt the familiar pull.
Justice.
Vengeance.
The righteous anger of two gods who have given him strength.
A voice called out from the back.
"I would like a word with me priest, if the two of ye don't mind." The smoke shifted and a red-bearded dwarf passed between the two avatars.
"Grotto... Grotto... Grotto..." The god sat and a comfortable chair with a foaming mug of ale appeared beside his right hand.
The deity leveled a steady gaze upon the scarred dwarf. There was a twinkle in his eye.
Grotto looks up. "My lord?"
The dwarf god shook his head. "Do you know how long I've been waiting for you to stop acting like a priest?"
Grotto blinked, "I... I am a priest."
"Nay, lad. A priest is what you do. A job, like a Smith or a Miner. A DWARF is what you are. You think I care how many enemies you kill?"
Grotto hesitated. "You grant me strength to fight."
Hanseath smiled, "No, my son. I grant you strength to live." The god leaned forward on his throne. "You fight the enemy. Good. You heal the injured. Good. But every time you swing that axe, I hear you asking whether it was righteous enough."
Hansesth pauseed. "Whether it was deserved enough. That is not my way."
"The fight is not the point." Hanseath placed a hand on Grotto's shoulder.
"The feast after. The song afterward. The story told years later. The friends who stand beside you when the enemy falls." The moment when you look around and say..."
The god smiled.
"...we survived. THAT is the point. That is what you have forgotten."
Grotto looked down. "I thought you had abandoned me."
"No." Hanseath sat back in his chair, "You prayed for justice. You prayed for revenge. You never prayed to share a drink with the people beside you when it was all said and done."
Grotto looked at the three figures before him. Kiri-Jolith, the bison, stood silent and proud. Sargonnas, the bull, watched with burning eyes.
Hanseath looked at his son. "You have carried their marks long enough."
The runes beneath his skin flared to life and slowly dimmed. "You thought I was silent because I was disappointed."
Hanseath laughed. "Boy, I was silent because you were too busy being angry to hear me."
Hanseath raised his tankard. "Fight because there is something worth protecting. Drink because there are people worth celebrating. Tell stories because someday this war will be nothing but one."
The vision faded. Grotto awoke in the room where he had been praying. Grotto was confused. War, anger, revenge, hatred, was all he had known for so long. The sweet burning of the runes drove these feelings in him. Grotto liked it. Peace never seemed an option. Grotto the blunt instrument of destruction was all he knew of himself.
"Whose priest am I?" Grotto wondered.
The question sounded very small in the ruined bedroom.
He had always known the answer.
Hanseath.
But that wasn't what Grotto was asking.
"Whose priest am I?"
Kiri-Jolith had given him justice. Sargonnas had given him vengeance. Both had given him something he understood.
What had Hanseath given him?
Grotto thought about the vision.The fight. Not victory. Not punishment. Not justice. Not vengeance.
"Enjoy the fight," he muttered.
He looked around the ruined room. "Easy for you to say."
Grotto looked toward the bedroom door. Somewhere downstairs, one of the wounded laughed. It was weak.
But it was laughter.
Grotto listened. Perhaps that was the answer or perhaps it was only the beginning of one.
- - - - -
Shadow saw to the summoned celestials and their healing efforts on the most wounded of the Elven warriors. Once they have used up their healing powers, he stood before them and bowed his head “Once more you have given life to those who were in the clutches of death. These warriors will never forget the gift you have given them. I bid thee farewell.” And dismisses them.
- - - - -
Cedron walked with Raven to the room Lady Eluarna had appointed for him. As they walked, he reached into his belongings and withdrew one of the scrolls Ra'ziir had given him. He unrolled the parchment and spoke the words written there.
Raven stopped.
Warmth spread through him as the magic took hold. Bruises faded beneath his clothes. Torn flesh knitted itself together. The sharp pain in his ribs disappeared between one breath and the next.
He looked down at himself, then at Cedron.
"You know, Lady Eluarna is going to think ordering me to bed worked."
Cedron rolled the spent scroll and tucked it away. "Rest up, Raven. I'm certain there will be more chances to practice your sword soon."
Raven entered the room and closed it behind him.
- - - - -
Cedron did not go far after leaving Raven.
He found a quiet place in the corridor outside the bedroom and settled himself against the wall.
For the first time in what seemed like days, there was nothing that immediately required his attention.
The wounded were being tended.
The prisoners had been freed.
He had defeated a dragon in single combat.
Sithelnost was theirs, at least for the moment. Raven was healed and, more importantly, finally resting. Cedron closed his eyes and prayed.
Something bothered him. The battle had gone too well. Cedron knew how ridiculous that sounded. He had seen the wounded downstairs. He had walked through the destruction left behind by the occupation. He knew what had happened here before they arrived. There had been nothing easy about Sithelnost.
Experience had taught him to distrust "easy".
Every victory concealed another problem. Every triumph carried some consequence they had failed to anticipate. Every time Cedron allowed himself to believe they had finally gotten ahead of events, something reminded him otherwise. Old failures had burned that optimism out of him. Or perhaps merely buried it.
So Cedron prayed. He thanked Malazzarr for the lives they had saved. He asked for strength for those still suffering. He asked for guidance for whatever came next. And, somewhere beneath all of that, he waited for the other boot to fall.
Behind the door, Raven slept.
Cedron could hear nothing from inside. That was probably good. The Little Black Bird of Death needed time to recharge.
Cedron smiled faintly. He had called Raven that to his face often enough. Usually after watching the elf do something spectacularly violent and then return looking as though nothing particularly unusual had happened.
Raven had long since stopped objecting. If anything, Cedron suspected he rather liked it.
"Sleep well, Little Black Bird," Cedron murmured.
There was no response from beyond the door. Cedron rested his head against the wall and slept.
He found a quiet place in the corridor outside the bedroom and settled himself against the wall.
For the first time in what seemed like days, there was nothing that immediately required his attention.
The wounded were being tended.
The prisoners had been freed.
He had defeated a dragon in single combat.
Sithelnost was theirs, at least for the moment. Raven was healed and, more importantly, finally resting. Cedron closed his eyes and prayed.
Something bothered him. The battle had gone too well. Cedron knew how ridiculous that sounded. He had seen the wounded downstairs. He had walked through the destruction left behind by the occupation. He knew what had happened here before they arrived. There had been nothing easy about Sithelnost.
Experience had taught him to distrust "easy".
Every victory concealed another problem. Every triumph carried some consequence they had failed to anticipate. Every time Cedron allowed himself to believe they had finally gotten ahead of events, something reminded him otherwise. Old failures had burned that optimism out of him. Or perhaps merely buried it.
So Cedron prayed. He thanked Malazzarr for the lives they had saved. He asked for strength for those still suffering. He asked for guidance for whatever came next. And, somewhere beneath all of that, he waited for the other boot to fall.
Behind the door, Raven slept.
Cedron could hear nothing from inside. That was probably good. The Little Black Bird of Death needed time to recharge.
Cedron smiled faintly. He had called Raven that to his face often enough. Usually after watching the elf do something spectacularly violent and then return looking as though nothing particularly unusual had happened.
Raven had long since stopped objecting. If anything, Cedron suspected he rather liked it.
"Sleep well, Little Black Bird," Cedron murmured.
There was no response from beyond the door. Cedron rested his head against the wall and slept.
- - - - -
Raven sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes. He had eaten what he could manage. His coat hung over the back of a chair, its torn fabric making the garment look considerably worse than he felt. Nightwatcher and Thorgrim rested within easy reach beside the bed.
Lady Eluarna had ordered him to rest.
That should have been easy.
Raven settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He slowed his breathing and attempted to clear his thoughts.
The Reverie.
Other elves made it look effortless. He had watched them do it countless times. They simply withdrew into themselves, entering the waking dreams through which elven minds found their rest.
Raven knew what he was supposed to do but knowing and doing were different things. He searched for the path inward.
Nothing.
He adjusted his position and tried again.
Raven opened one eye, groaned. "For %#$'s sake."
He closed it again. For several minutes, he concentrated on his breathing. He tried recalling the exercises he had been taught. He attempted to let memories rise naturally rather than pursuing them.
Nothing happened.
His thoughts simply remained thoughts.
Eventually Raven sighed. He had spent too many of his formative years among humans. Humans did not enter waking dreams to contemplate the experiences of their lives. When humans became tired, they found somewhere reasonably safe, closed their eyes, and went unconscious for several hours.
Raven had become remarkably good at that.
Reverie remained another matter entirely.
He tried once more.
Ra’ziir’s voice interrupted next Raven’s attempt at respite, “Kysek and I have located the withdrawing forces. They are about five miles out, headed northwest, along with more of the silver draconians. I’m afraid they may either have contingencies in place and be regrouping for another assault, or they are a distraction meant to thin our numbers further… it’s hard to tell.” The Bladesinger’s voice faded a moment as he scanned the sky and the column below looking for any other clues. “You got orders Blackbird? Or should we just control the damage when it comes?”
“Blackbird, Red One, you copy? Come back!”
Raven sent his thoughts back through the mindlink, "If they are heading away from the city, let them go. We need a plan to move what remains of this city's defenders to safety."
- - - - -
Ra’ziir signaled to Kysek by making a circular motion with his index finger and then indicateed the direction of the city with his thumb before dipping Redclaw’s rein to turn toward the same direction.
Kysek shook his head, "Personally; they shouldn’t be allowed to rejoin another amassed force. If we follow, perhaps we can learn more?" He adds, “We must know the larger scope; their plan. "Escaping soldiers tell us nothing unless captured. But if we follow..."
He pointed toward the fleeing columns. "...we may learn where they go. Who commands them. What remains of their strength."
He guided Dusk upward.
"High and out of sight."
Ra'ziir nodded.
Kysek patted Dusk's neck. He murmured, "The altitude will help."
Turning back to Ra'ziir, "The dragon that fled may have been the great wyrm that Shadow scried! Send a message!"
The world became smaller as Dusk and Redclaw climbed higher. Wisps of clouds brushed past the two elves as they flew. Below, the Dragonarmy continued to march away from the city. Every so often, stragglers would join the column - Ogres or Baaz who had been separated during the fighting and had just found their way back.
An hour became two. Two hours became three. As the fourth hour was approaching, the column showed no sign of slowing. Kysek began counting. After several starts and stops, the Evereskan thief turned mage was able to estimate just under one-hundred fifty Ogres and a similar number of Baaz. Of the silver draconians, he managed to spot three below, directing what remained of the Green Scourge and Ravagers of Kern through the forest. One of those silver draconians looked up, scanning the sky but if it could see the black specks of soaring griffon against the clouds, Kysek could not tell.
- - - - -
Romulus returned to the forcecage carrying a chair. Takhis watched as the halfling placed it several feet from the shimmering barrier, climbed onto it, settled himself comfortably, and opened a small notebook.
The Sivak stared at him.
Romulus dipped his pen. "Now. Where were we?"
"I told you nothing."
"Yes, you did."
Takhis's eyes narrowed.
"You told me your name. You demonstrated that you understand Common. You recognized the forcecage. You tested it systematically rather than repeatedly. You possess considerable self-discipline, and you understood immediately when I began asking about the limitations of your transformation."
Romulus looked up from the page. "You have actually been quite helpful. Let's begin with something simple. Are you male?"
Takhis blinked.
Romulus waited.
"Yes."
The pen scratched across the page. "Are all Sivaks male?"
Silence.
Romulus made another notation. "Interesting."
Takhis shifted his weight. Romulus continued. "Baaz become stone when killed. Kapaks dissolve into acid. Bozaks explode. Auraks...Auraks are ridiculous."
For the first time, something almost resembling amusement passed across Takhis's reptilian features.
"And when a Sivak dies, he takes on the appearance of his killer. Can you also take the form of someone you kill? Must you kill the subject personally? Do you copy their voice? Their clothing? How long can you maintain the form?"
No answer.
"Hours?"
Silence.
"Interesting."
- - - - -
Once he had dismissed the avorals, Shadow went looking for Romulus and found him with the Silver Draconian. “Who is your new friend?”
"This is Takhis, a Sivak Draconian. He and I were just about to discuss where little Sivaks come from."
Takhis frowned. "I will tell you nothing."
"You keep saying that, my obstinate friend, but your reticence speaks volumes," Romulus countered.
- - - - -
Once he had dismissed the avorals, Shadow went looking for Romulus and found him with the Silver Draconian. “Who is your new friend?”
"This is Takhis, a Sivak Draconian. He and I were just about to discuss where little Sivaks come from."
Takhis frowned. "I will tell you nothing."
"You keep saying that, my obstinate friend, but your reticence speaks volumes," Romulus countered.
Takhis studied him. "Dark elf? A criminal and an outcast from elvenkind." The Sivak's eyes roamed across Shadow in less than a moment. "You are not Silvanesti or Qualinesti. Neither are you Kagonesti." Takhis tilted his head slightly to the right. "Whatever nation you are from, it is unknown to me."
"You’re right, my scaly friend. I am none of the elves you are familiar with. It is interesting that you can discern the different types of elves and that I am not one of them. It shows that you are well-versed in the differences in the Elven race, that you have been educated on your enemy. As it were.”
After some small talk Shadow asked to speak with Romulus out of earshot of the dragon warrior. Once safely away Shadow says, “We need to get back. I can take a few Mass Teleport spells. What do you think? Blink out as many wounded as we can? Then Mass Fly the rest that cannot make the trip in the morning. Those on foot will be on their own till we spell back up. What say you?”
"You're the boss," Romulus replies. "I don't have spells prepared to move so many at once but I can probably get between seventeen and nineteen in a single jump, depending on how much they've eaten in the last twenty-four hours... I can teleport eighty-five out as necessary. We thinking Tarithnesti? Or Silvanost?"
Shadow claps Romulus on the shoulder and adds, "Enjoy your conversation with your new friend. I will ask the commander where we should move these troops to. Gonna let Raven get some rest and then I will need to do the same. Then I can take some of the teleport spells needed. I know Raven was trying to get a headcount. I will see if I can’t round that up and find out how many souls we need to save.”
After some small talk Shadow asked to speak with Romulus out of earshot of the dragon warrior. Once safely away Shadow says, “We need to get back. I can take a few Mass Teleport spells. What do you think? Blink out as many wounded as we can? Then Mass Fly the rest that cannot make the trip in the morning. Those on foot will be on their own till we spell back up. What say you?”
"You're the boss," Romulus replies. "I don't have spells prepared to move so many at once but I can probably get between seventeen and nineteen in a single jump, depending on how much they've eaten in the last twenty-four hours... I can teleport eighty-five out as necessary. We thinking Tarithnesti? Or Silvanost?"
Shadow claps Romulus on the shoulder and adds, "Enjoy your conversation with your new friend. I will ask the commander where we should move these troops to. Gonna let Raven get some rest and then I will need to do the same. Then I can take some of the teleport spells needed. I know Raven was trying to get a headcount. I will see if I can’t round that up and find out how many souls we need to save.”
- - - - -
Shadow found Commander Parnitha in what remained of the manor's receiving hall. The table had been covered with a large map. Parnitha stood over it with Lady Eluarna and two surviving officers of the city's garrison.
The dark elf cleared his throat as he walked in. "Commander."
Parnitha turned, "Shadow, yes?"
"Romulus and I can start moving people out tonight. He can teleport perhaps seventeen or nineteen at a time. He says he can move about eighty-five before he's spent." The dark elf informed her.
"Where to?" Parnitha asked.
"That's what I came to ask you. Tarithnesti or Silvanost?" He replied.
Parnitha considered the question. "Silvanost. Tarithnesti is secure," Parnitha continued, "but barely. Eilra already has the survivors from the Beacon defense, the wounded, and everyone necessary to hold the position. Sending another hundred mouths there gains us nothing and Silvanost has healers."
Shadow started to leave, then stopped. "Do we have a final count?"
The three elves exchanged looks.
Parnitha shook her head. "Raven started one."
Shadow nodded, "I'll finish it."
Shadow found Commander Parnitha in what remained of the manor's receiving hall. The table had been covered with a large map. Parnitha stood over it with Lady Eluarna and two surviving officers of the city's garrison.
The dark elf cleared his throat as he walked in. "Commander."
Parnitha turned, "Shadow, yes?"
"Romulus and I can start moving people out tonight. He can teleport perhaps seventeen or nineteen at a time. He says he can move about eighty-five before he's spent." The dark elf informed her.
"Where to?" Parnitha asked.
"That's what I came to ask you. Tarithnesti or Silvanost?" He replied.
Parnitha considered the question. "Silvanost. Tarithnesti is secure," Parnitha continued, "but barely. Eilra already has the survivors from the Beacon defense, the wounded, and everyone necessary to hold the position. Sending another hundred mouths there gains us nothing and Silvanost has healers."
Shadow started to leave, then stopped. "Do we have a final count?"
The three elves exchanged looks.
Parnitha shook her head. "Raven started one."
Shadow nodded, "I'll finish it."
As Shadow left the room, Lady Nihriome turned to the commander. "You said the operation was planned by this Raven fellow."
Parnitha nodded, "Yes, Your Grace."
"And he came here directly from Tarithnesti?" The noblewoman asked.
Once again, Parnitha nodded. "Yes."
The aristocrat's eyes widened slightly, "How long had he been marching?"
Parnitha hesitated. "Approximately twenty-five hours."
Eluarna stared at her. "Without rest?"
"That is correct, Your Grace, he would not wait." The commander replied.
Eluarna's eyes moved toward the room where Raven was finally sleeping. "Of course he wouldn't."
The noble was silent for a while. Eluarna looked again toward the stairs. "Who is he?"
Parnitha frowned slightly. "Raven Straightbow."
"I know his name, Commander."
Parnitha understood although that question was considerably more difficult. "He is a ranger. A swordsman. He comes from a place called Evermeet, although I could not tell you where it lies. He has traveled farther than anyone I have ever known."
Eluarna shook her head, "That tells me what he does. I asked who he is."
Parnitha glanced toward the stairs. "I am still trying to determine that myself."
Eluarna raised an eyebrow.
Parnitha continued. "He is reckless, stubborn, frequently insubordinate."
"Without holding a rank?" Eluarna asked.
Parnitha nodded but then her expression softened. "He is also the sort of person who learns that a hundred strangers may die and immediately decides that it is his problem."
Lady Nihriome was quiet for several seconds. Then she looked once more toward the stairs. "Twenty-five hours?"
"Approximately, Your Grace."
The noble looked her, "And you allowed this?"
Parnitha stiffened. "Your Grace—"
Eluarna raised a hand. "I am not reprimanding you, Commander."
Parnitha relaxed slightly.
"So he marched for twenty-five hours and then attacked an occupied city... alone."
Parnitha's expression tightened slightly. "Yes, initially. He thought to lure the dragon out so the wizards could ambush it and they needed time to replace the spells used in the defense of Tarithnesti."
Parnitha nodded, "Yes, Your Grace."
"And he came here directly from Tarithnesti?" The noblewoman asked.
Once again, Parnitha nodded. "Yes."
The aristocrat's eyes widened slightly, "How long had he been marching?"
Parnitha hesitated. "Approximately twenty-five hours."
Eluarna stared at her. "Without rest?"
"That is correct, Your Grace, he would not wait." The commander replied.
Eluarna's eyes moved toward the room where Raven was finally sleeping. "Of course he wouldn't."
The noble was silent for a while. Eluarna looked again toward the stairs. "Who is he?"
Parnitha frowned slightly. "Raven Straightbow."
"I know his name, Commander."
Parnitha understood although that question was considerably more difficult. "He is a ranger. A swordsman. He comes from a place called Evermeet, although I could not tell you where it lies. He has traveled farther than anyone I have ever known."
Eluarna shook her head, "That tells me what he does. I asked who he is."
Parnitha glanced toward the stairs. "I am still trying to determine that myself."
Eluarna raised an eyebrow.
Parnitha continued. "He is reckless, stubborn, frequently insubordinate."
"Without holding a rank?" Eluarna asked.
Parnitha nodded but then her expression softened. "He is also the sort of person who learns that a hundred strangers may die and immediately decides that it is his problem."
Lady Nihriome was quiet for several seconds. Then she looked once more toward the stairs. "Twenty-five hours?"
"Approximately, Your Grace."
The noble looked her, "And you allowed this?"
Parnitha stiffened. "Your Grace—"
Eluarna raised a hand. "I am not reprimanding you, Commander."
Parnitha relaxed slightly.
"So he marched for twenty-five hours and then attacked an occupied city... alone."
Parnitha's expression tightened slightly. "Yes, initially. He thought to lure the dragon out so the wizards could ambush it and they needed time to replace the spells used in the defense of Tarithnesti."
A faint smile touched Eluarna's face."I see. He has no rank in our army. Yet you followed his plan."
The commander nodded, "We did."
"Why?"
Parnitha's answer came more quickly this time. "Because it was a good plan."
Lady Eluarna Nihriome's voice softened. "Yes. I suppose it was."
- - - - -
The counting took longer than expected. While most of the wounded were in the manor, several were staying in neighboring homes. Some had been counted twice when they had moved from one building to the other.
The work was tedious. Parnitha joined him after awhile. They found three elves sleeping in a pantry who had somehow escaped everyone's lists. One prisoner everyone thought had died was very much alive and deeply irritated that anyone had thought otherwise.
Eventually, the two came up with a total of one hundred-thirteen people who would need to be evacuated from the city.
The counting took longer than expected. While most of the wounded were in the manor, several were staying in neighboring homes. Some had been counted twice when they had moved from one building to the other.
The work was tedious. Parnitha joined him after awhile. They found three elves sleeping in a pantry who had somehow escaped everyone's lists. One prisoner everyone thought had died was very much alive and deeply irritated that anyone had thought otherwise.
Eventually, the two came up with a total of one hundred-thirteen people who would need to be evacuated from the city.
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