Sithelnost - What Did I Miss?

 08 Newkolt 349 AC

A few minutes ago...

Raven lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. The Reverie had once again eluded him so he would just rest his eyes for a little while.

Then, he fell asleep.
- - - - -
Downstairs, in what had once been a grand hall where musicians played and guests dined and danced seemingly without a care, Parnitha stood at the map table once again.

She had managed to steal a little over twenty minutes to get cleaned up and change into a fresh uniform. A heavily watered glass of wine stood nearby, largely untouched as she looked at the two lists in front of her.

The first list had one-hundred and thirteen names written on it, along with that name's owner's medical disposition - walking wounded, critical condition, frostbitten but functional, stable.

The second list was about one-third of those names sorted into order of evacuation.

She recognized a handful of surnames, thought she may know a couple if she had a face to put to them. She sighed, once again amazed that a battle could generate so much paperwork in its aftermath.

She drew a line beneath the third group of sixteen names and picked up her goblet of wine. It was empty.

She didn't remember finishing it.

A servant passing through the hall noticed and approached. "Commander?"

Parnitha nodded. "Yes, water please."

One eyebrow came up. "Just water, ma'am?"

The elf woman looked at him and thought for a second. Sobriety wasn't all that appealing, she admitted, silently, to herself. "Some wine as well, I suppose."

The servant nodded, filled her drinks, and departed.

When he had gone, she mixed the glasses together and turned back to her work.
- - - - -
Grotto found the Great Hall easily enough. His comrades, he noted, were in decidedly short supply.

Servants bustled between tables, carrying what food had been salvaged to warriors recovering on thin pallets of straw and with tattered curtains and drapes pressed into service as blankets or in some cases, privacy screens hung from hastily rearranged furniture.

The dwarf noticed Parnitha across the hall and headed toward the familiar face. She looked better than she had the last time he saw her but she still looked tired.

Grotto approached the food. There was cheese, some cold meat and bruised fruit, some kind of warm broth being ladeled out of a pot. It smelled like salt but his stomach growled with curiosity so he took a little bit of everything before joining the Commander.

He looked around again.

No Cedron. No Raven. No Kysek or Ra'ziir. Not even Romulus.

"So much for celebrating with comrades..." The dwarf thought as he headed over to join Parnitha.

She looked up briefly and nodded her head, once, in greeting, "Master Grotto."

The dwarf placed his food on the table. "Commander." He glanced toward the papers in front of her. "Survivors?"

She nodded. Her eyes dropped to his plate. "Breakfast?"

"Or what passes for it at the moment, at least," he replied.

"Where is everyone?" He finally asked.

"Kysek and Ra'ziir were following what was left of the Dragonarmy - no word from them yet. Could be nothing, could be everything. No way of knowing until Raven wakes up."

"Wakes up?" Grotto leaned forward in his seat. "Something happen to him?"

Parnitha chuckled softly. "Lady Eluarna sent him to bed."

Grotto laughed. "Good luck with that."

"Cedron," she hesitated slightly after saying the name, "went along to enforce her edict."

"That should improve the odds, at least a bit," Grotto acknowledged.

He took a bite of his food. It wasn't sturdy Dwarven fare bit, surprisingly, it wasn't bad. The bread could have used some butter or a nice marmalade but it was serviceable.

Neither spoke for a few minutes. This was definitely not the celebration Hanseath had led him to expect. There was no ale, no singing, no boasting of enemies slain.

There was just an exhausted elf woman planning an evacuation of wounded prisoners to a place where they would marginally safer from immediate harm.

Grotto looked back down at his food. "Celebrate with comrades after the battle."

That was when Grotto realized the battle wasn't quite over yet.
- - - - -
Romulus's Forcecage had expired.

As the spell flickered out of existence, Takhis thought about making a break for it.

For one deliciously satisfying moment, he imagined pouncing on the annoying little wizard, wrapping his fingers around his throat, snapping his neck and making his escape before any of the elves realized what was happening.

He reconsidered.

Something told him that the annoying little wizard was the only person in town who cared that Takhis remained alive.

There was also the matter of the wizard's leopard.

The cat was watching him. It hadn't moved in over fifteen minutes.

It didn't need to.

Takhis remained where he was. The annoying little mage reached into his belongings and pulled out a pair of manacles. "Put these on. We're taking a little trip and I don't want our hosts to get the wrong idea."

Takhis looked at the wizard. Then at the leopard. He put the manacles on.

The wizard seemed satisfied. He spoke a single word and the world jumped beneath the Sivak's feet.

Takhis staggered.

Cold air struck him. It whispered across his silver scales.

Rising directly ahead were two enormous spires of black glass. They stretched into the sky, far beyond reason. The massive obsidian structures seemed to lean and sway drunkenly, as if they were about to topple over.

Takhis flinched, bracing himself for millions of tons of black stone to topple down on top of him.

Nothing happened.

The towers remained standing, defying gravity as they loomed overhead.

The draconian slowly straightened and looked around. In every direction, polished black walls formed a courtyard of sorts. He could see his reflection in them. Dozens of Takhises looked back at him impassively.

There were no walkways for guards, or arrow slits, or anything to suggest that whoever had built this place had given any consideration to fending off attackers. There was nothing to suggest that anyone had ever thought that would be necessary.

Deeply etched into the stone, massive runes glowed and faded, pulsing with red and white light.

A hundred yards away, a delicate bars of gold and silver formed a gate that the draconian knew no army could ever breach. Thick gray mist swirled beyond the gate, revealing then concealing a forest of dead black trees with branches that moved in a nonexistent wind.

The annoying little wizard adjusted his belongings and climbed into the saddle strapped across the white leopard's back.

"Let’s go introduce you to your new hosts."

Takhis stared at him. "I hate you."

The wizard smiled. "Not unexpected."

The he started walking. Takhis, having nothing else he could do, followed a few moments later.

They passed into the Tower. A woman in white robes crossed ahead of them carrying a stack of books nearly tall enough to obscure her face. She glanced at the Sivak and turned away, her moment of interest having already passed. Two men in red robes stood arguing about what was written on a scroll. One paused long enough to look at Takhis before returning to his argument. A Black Robe was passing in the opposite direction. He stopped, looked at Takhis from head to toe and muttered "Hmmm" before continuing on his way.

Takhks hissed to his captor. "Where are we?"

The mage replied simply, "The Tower of High Sorcery at Wayreth."

That meant nothing to Takhjs.

The next room was filled with people - humans, elves, other races the draconian couldn't identify. Some carried books, others had staves, one was reading a scroll while eating an apple. Nobody seemed particularly interested in him.

The annoying little wizard seemed completely at home.

That annoyed Takhis even more.

Ahead, an elf in white robes looked up from the book he was reading. He looked at the mage, then at Takhis, then at Takhis's manacles. He smiled. "Master Romulus, how good of you to visit. Staying long? Perhaps we could have dinner."

"Next time, Menathradon, I promise," Romulus leaned in close, "I have brought Justarius a gift."

The White-Robed elf closed his book. "Of course. If you don't mind, I will walk with you."

Romulus laughed. "As they say, 'the more the merrier'. Tell me, how is Flit doing these days? I assume he is not a fan of the diet you put him on."

Takhis didn't hear the elf wizard's reply. He had just realized that there would be no escape from the hell the annoying little wizard had just delivered him to.
- - - - -
Shadow opened his eyes.

For a few seconds, he stared at an unfamiliar ceiling. Then, everything came back. The Battle of Tarithnesti and the Beacon, the assault on Sithelnost. The elves they had rescued. Well, were still in the process of rescuing, at any rate.

He looked over at Spewer. The Spitting Crawler was lounging indolently atop an armoire.

"You let me oversleep," Shadow chided as he reached for his boots.

One of Spewer's eyes pivoted to look at his master. "I made an executive decision to let you continue resting. You're not the young elf you used to be and need your beauty sleep."

Shadow stopped and looked at the lizard. "Careful with who you're calling old, you handbag wannabe."

Spewer made the lizard equivalent of a shrug. "Fuss and threaten all you want. I'm not the one who got skewered."

Shadow pulled on his boot. "You should have woken me."

Spewer climbed down from his perch, his sticky toes gripping the wood with ease. His tail swished like a cat as he approached. "The guard didn't come in. Nobody screamed and nothing exploded." He scratched his chin with one of his front legs. "Besides, if you're sleeping, you can't antagonize a green great wyrm which drastically improves our odds for survival. You're welcome."

Shadow shook his head and reached into his bag of holding. He started pulling out spellbooks.

"You should look into getting better books. That Ra’ziir? His books got style. Silk-embroidered pages, silver gilt, real dragon-leather binding, not that fake stuff. Real swanky, boss. It sends a message."

"Go be his familiar if you want," the drow laughed.

"Maybe I will. He might offer benefits," the familiar replied.

Shadow stopped. "Benefits?"

"Yeah," Spewer scratched his chin idly. "Food allowance, vacation pay, some lotion for when I'm molting..."

"I'll write you a letter of recommendation, then," Shadow laughed as he opened his book.

"Let’s not be too hasty, boss. We been together a long time." Spewer countered.

"I'm touched," the drow answered as he began flipping pages.

"Besides, he's got a griffon. Those things eat meat," Spewer said.

The dark elf looked up, "You eat meat."

"No. I AM meat. Don't think I haven't noticed Redclaw sizing me up," Spewer said flatly. "I'm probably delicious."

"Well, I'm glad you thought this through," his master said.

"Just looking out for both of us, boss." Spewer said.

Shadow’s finger stopped on Mass Teleport. "Three of these."

Spewer leaned closer. "Now we're talking. Walking is for the birds."

After committing his spells to memory, Shadow rose, cast Overland Flight and rose a few inches off of the floor.

"You know, it wouldn't kill you to walk once in awhile, boss." Spewer pointed out.

"I thought you said walking was 'for the birds', Spewer." Shadow pointed out in reply.

"For me? Absolutely. I got short legs. What's your excuse?" Spewer asked.

"Well, someone told me that I was getting old..." Shadow answered.

"Observant fellow, whoever that was," nodded the lizard.

Shadow floated toward the door. "Keep talking, handbag."

The Spitting Crawler leapt onto his master's shoulder. "That's the plan."

The guard, or at least A Guard was still outside.

"Anything happen while I rested?" The drow asked.

"No, sir."

Shadow clapped him on the shoulder. "Good man. Thanks to you, I'm rested and we're going home."

The guard straightened, a smile slowly spreading across his face, "Yes, sir!"

Shadow smiled. "I need to see the Commander. Then, we're off!"

Shadow found her in the Great Hall, Grotto still picking at his breakfast. He floated toward them

"I bring news. I found our green dragon." He began.

The Wildrunner leader looked up, her hand straying toward her hammer. "Where?"

"Dragonarmy camp. Large one," he answered.

She frowned. "How large?"

"Hard to say. Scrying doesn't provide a large field of vision." He thought for a moment, "It seemed pretty established though, like it had been there for some time. But... it was a large enough camp that our dragon wasn't the most interesting thing there."

Grotto grumbled. "That's hardly encouraging."

Shadow smiled. "No... but, they were taking the Flight Marshal off of the dragon's back when I found them."

Parnitha leaned in. "Dead?"

Shadow nodded. "Yes."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Thank E'li. That's one problem off of our plate."

The dark elf's smile faded. "Yes, and also no. I found three more problems while I was looking." He held up three fingers. "Two red dragons - big ones and one very large green wyrm who recognized me."

That drew Grotto and Parnitha's undivided attention.

"Knew you?" The dwarf asked.

Shadow nodded. "I scried him once before, after Silvanost."

Parnitha's eyes narrowed. "He recognized your spell?"

Spewer chuckled. "More than that. He looked right at him. He said 'You again, little mage? This is the second time you have violated my privacy. I warn against a third attempt.'"

Grotto asked, "You going to do it again?"

The lizard chuckled. "Probably. He can be a bit dense."

Shadow ignored him. "I want to start moving the wounded."

Parnitha handed him the second list. "I've been waiting to hear that. Here are your first forty-eight passengers. They are being assembled now. The healers know that they're leaving."

Shadow looked down at the list. "You have been busy."

Parnitha replied, "We all have."

Grotto sat off to the side, still wondering when this battle would finally be over. Hanseath had given him a commandment, one he intended to honor.
- - - - -
Kysek reached over and patted Dusk’s shoulder. "Onward, girl! Let's get back and get some rest. We've done our job!"

Dusk screeched and beat her wings, climbing further out of range.

Kysek glanced back across the widening distance at the Dragonarmy. Already, soldiers were helping each other to their feet, picking up their weapons, and reforming ranks. He saw at least two of the silver draconians getting their troops ready to move.

The elf turned toward Ra'ziir, flashed the bladesinger a grin and a thumbs-up.

Ra'ziir returned the gesture with a smile and a nod.

The pair allowed the griffons to set a comfortable pace. They had been flying for hours. They had earned a rest. All of them had.

A few hours later, Sithelnost came into view. Ra’ziir and Kysek flew past the edge of town and circled twice. They spotted guards standing outside of a large manor and guided their griffons down toward an open area not far from the home.

Dusk touched down first. Redclaw landed less than a second later. The elves slid from their saddles. Kysek ran his fingers through Dusk’s feathers. "Good girl."

The black-feathered griffon bumped him with her beak and emitted a happy screech.

"Go with Red. Find something to eat and come right back."

Dusk looked toward Redclaw.

Kysek patted her again. "I mean it."

Ra'ziir scratched Redclaw’s neck. "Don't go far. I'm going to see what Commander Parnithia and the others have decided, then I'll meet you back here."

Both griffons reared up on their hind legs and leapt into the air.

Kysek watched them go. "Think they'll find anything?"

Ra'ziir chuckled. "I feel bad for anything they do."

The two elves headed toward the manor.

The guards posted at the front doors saluted and allowed them to pass. "The great hall is just ahead. Food has been prepared, sirs."

When the two griffon-riders reached the hall, they found servants folding blankets and clearing the pallets where the freed prisoners had been recovering. They looked around. A little more than half of the elves they had seen chained in the Gallery of Heroes were missing.

Parnitha stood at the map table. She looked up as they entered and beckoned them over. "Shadow has begun relocating our survivors to Silvanost. Romulus has just returned from the Tower of High Sorcery in Wayreth and is standing by with the next group. They should be departing momentarily. Raven is still asleep upstairs, if you can believe that. Cedron is making sure that he isn't disturbed."

Grotto let out a "Harumph". "Can't believe the bird has slept this long."

The newly returned riders brought the Commander up to speed on what they had found during their pursuit of the retreating troops. She and Grotto told them about the additional dragons Shadow had seen, including the massive wyrm and its warning.

Kysek stared down at the map. "So, the dragon we were looking for wasn't with the troops because it had already reached this camp?"

Parnitha nodded, "Or so it seems."

Kysek glanced up. "And he doesn't know where this camp is?"

Grotto shrugged. "Said he was looking at the dragons, not the countryside."

Ra'ziir looked at the map as well. He studied the line the Commander had drawn to show the Dragonarmy's route. "This camp could be where the enemy is heading."

Parnitha nodded. "My thought as well."

Kysek nodded. "They maintained the same general heading the entire time we followed them."

"Then for now, we assume that the camp Shadow saw is where they're heading."

Ra'ziir smiled. "Spoken like a commander."

"Spoken like a commander who doesn't want to discover that three-hundred troops and a pair of dragons were just a warm-up," she replied.

Kysek looked toward the food. "We can deal with that when the time comes. Is there still food?"

Parnitha gestured toward the kitchen, "Eat. Get some rest. I'm sure we'll need your strength again soon"
- - - - -
Cedron opened his eyes. For a few moments, he remained where he was, allowing the last traces of his prayer to fade away. He stood and stretched. He felt better.

Not good, just better.

He smoothed his clothes, still grateful to be out of his chain armor for the first time in what felt like a week.

His stomach growled. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you. Let’s see if the bird has awakened? I wager his eyes never closed.” He mused.

He crossed the hall and twice, hard enough that Raven should have heard. “Black Bird! You up?"

There was no answer.

Cedron called out again. "Let’s wash, eat, and save the world! I’m hungry. Let’s eat first, and let the rest happen naturally.”

There was still no answer. Cedron frowned and tried the door. He opened it as quietly as possible and peered inside.

Raven was asleep on the bed.

Not pretending to sleep to appease Lady Nihriome, not in Reverie.

Asleep.

Cedron stepped inside and studied him for a few seconds.

Raven hadn't moved. His chest rose and fell steadily. His breathing was slow and even.

"Well, look at that. Miracles do happen," he thought to himself.

He backed out of the room and closed the door gently behind him.

A servant was coming down the hall with folded linens. Cedron raised a hand to stop him.  “Excuse me. Where can I find relief and wash my face?”

The elf gave him directions with a small bow. "The washrooms are just beyond the eastern corridor, near the guest wing. If you are seeking food, the Great Hall has been prepared. The household staff have been serving meals there for the wounded and those assisting them."

Cedron nodded in appreciation of the directions. He would wash. Then eat. Then go look for the others. Maybe Raven would be awake by then.

Then, they could go find out what fresh disaster was brewing.
- - - - -
Once the priest had departed, the servant returned to the guest chamber to check on Lady Nihriome's guest. He expected to find the strange elf awake.

Instead, he found him sleeping. The servant paused in the doorway. He quietly entered.

The room was simple enough. The discarded boots were straightened and placed neatly beside the chair. The unfinished plate of food was collected and carried away. That was when he noticed the green sea coat hung over the back of the chair.

The smell reached him first.

Blood.

Sweat.

Smoke.

Mud.

And E'li-knew-what-else.

The servant had seen enough battle injuries that he did not need an explanation for what had happened to it. The back was torn, not cut, torn.

The kind of damage made by something with claws. He shook his head. "How are you still alive?"

The servant carefully lifted the garment and carried it away. He went directly to the private service halls and sought out one of the household laundresses.

She was a member of House Servitor, and like many in that house, her talents extended beyond ordinary domestic work.

She looked up as he entered. "Yes?"

He held out the coat. Her expression changed immediately. Slowly, she reached out and touched the damaged fabric.

Her face went pale. "Am I preparing this to dress a corpse for a wake?"

The servant shook his head. "No."

He glanced toward the guest wing. "This is for the warrior sleeping in Master Therandis's room."

The laundress looked back down at the coat. She examined the tears. "The fabric can be repaired, but not quickly."

She gathered the coat carefully. "I will summon another mage to help. Come back in a few hours."

The servant nodded and left.
- - - - -
A few hours later, Kysek emerged from his Reverie. The first thing he did was to go find Dusk. The black griffon was stretched out on the ground behind the manor, licking blood from her claws.

Kysek stopped. "What did you eat, girl?"

The griffon chirped softly.

"You know what? Never mind. I don't think I want to know."

He crouched and began checking her over. Wings first, then her legs and talons. Then came the brushing.

Dusk sat politely while Kysek groomed her fur. While Kysek worked, he turned to Bubo. The owl had hidden during the attack on Sithelnost and remaining behind while Kysek and Ra'ziir had pursued the army out of the city. Now that Dusk was resting and night was closing in, it was time to put him to work.

Kysek pointed toward the horizon. "Go back toward the route we followed. Pay attention to the direction the army was following. That is likely to be the direction they will come from."

Bubo's head bobbed up and down. "Understood. Observation priority - Dragonarmy. Secondary priority  - identify additional forces."

The owl's feathers ruffled and he spread his wings. "I will keep you appraised of my findings, master." The bird took to the air and vanished into the deepening darkness.
- - - - -
Ra'ziir rose shortly after Kysek. His first destination was also the griffons.

He found Redclaw sprawled on his back, belly to the sky, feet in the air and tongue lolling out of his mouth. The griffon wore the unmistakable expression of a creature who had fought hard and feasted well.

Ra'ziir smiled. "Death from Above."

One of Redclaw’s eyes opened.

"Very impressive." The bladesinger rubbed the griffon’s belly. "Rest, my friend."

His thoughts turned to the army column he and Kysek had spent the afternoon following. If he had been able to communicate with the others, then eliminating the retreating forces before they reached the larger camp may have been possible.

"Expand the mindlink. As soon as possible."

He rose and headed back into the manor house. It was time to check on everyone else.
- - - - -
Raven opened his eyes. He stared up at the ceiling and groaned. He had fallen asleep. He sat up slowly. He was still tired but at least nothing hurt. Cedron's magic had done its work.

He rubbed his eyes and looked around. His boots were sitting beside the bed. His coat was folded and hanging over the back of a chair.

It was clean. The tears had been repaired. It smelled of clean, salt air.

He smiled. "Nice."

He stepped into his boots, slipped his jacket on. He buckled on his sword belt.

He was still tired. The sleep had restored his body but not his mind. He could live with that. As he headed toward the door, he opened the mindlink to Ra'ziir.

"I'm awake. What did I miss?"

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