Story HourPost your ongoing tales from your campaigns, and read those from others for inspiration. Lots of other RPG boards post "Story Hours", but this is where it started!
They met up the other half of the caravan a few days later. The cat-like Bijoux, scaled Calactyte, and the elorii known as Ilmarė road one wagon alone. Only Ilmarė held the reins; her two bestial companions sat in the wagon behind her.
“Where’s the rest of the caravan?” asked Dril from his own wagon.
Ilmarė hesitated. “They were…not willing to go along.”
“The guards left us suddenly,” Bijoux said softly, her tail flicking in agitation. “They did not explain why.”
“Fear,” grunted Cal. “I could smell it on them.”
Dril suppressed a smile. “It’s understandable. With a war with Ssethregore imminent, most Altherians will be nervous around a ss’ressen.”
“But you’re not,” Cal said morosely.
Kham sat up from the back of a wagon led by Vlad. He was obviously drunk. “We know better,” was all he said. Then he lay back down.
Ilmarė wrinkled her nose. “I’ve known them well enough for the past five days. Is it much further?”
“We’re less than a day away,” said Dril.
“And yet it’s nowhere in sight,” muttered Beldin from the back of his mount. Sebastian sat in Dril’s wagon.
Calactyte sat upright in the cart led by Vlad. He was parallel with Sebastian.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
Sebastian stood up to look at Calactyte over the edge of the cart. “For what?”
“For saving my life and my tribe,” said Cal. “I am in your debt.”
Sebastian smiled. “You would have done the same for us, I’m sure.”
Calactyte merely nodded and reclined back in the cart. Sebastian did the same.
The path had risen for the hundredth time to go up over a mountain pass, between two weather-beaten hills. Rocky outcroppings jutted from nearly everywhere. Vegetation was sparse.
Sebastian stood bolt upright. “Something’s wrong.” His wings spread out behind him, wand at the ready.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be there before you know—“ was all Dril got out before his wagon erupted in a violent explosion of fire and debris.
The Altherian mounts were steadfast, but the wagon team neighed in terror as the wagon flew high in the air. With a mournful groan, the wagon split in mid-air and began a slow, scattered return. Flaming remnants of the wagon and its contents came spilling down all around like a grisly hailstorm from the abyss.
Sebastian landed, propelled upwards by the blast. There was no trace of Dril, only the tinkling of wood and metal all around him. “Ambush!” he shouted.
Out from either side of the road loped nine ss’ressen.
“Incendiares globus!” shouted Sebastian. A fireball surged forth from his fingertips, engulfing the ss’ressen on the left side of the road.
They kept coming.
“Get down!” shouted Calactyte, brandishing his axe. “Those are flaming tongue ss’ressen!”
Sebastian ducked behind Vlad’s wagon where it had been overturned from the explosion.
The sagittal crests of the flaming tongue ss’ressen flushed a ruddy color just before they exhaled fiery death. Several of the team horses, already battered from the explosion, screeched in agony.
Ilmarė was on her feet. She fired at one of the flaming tongue ss’ressen, felling it with two arrows.
Bijoux landed beside her and snapped a sling shot towards a ss’ressen with two rows of thick spines down its back rather than a crest. It bounced off the lizard’s thick skull.
“There’s too many!” she shouted.
“I like the odds!” bellowed Beldin. He yanked hard on the reins of his horse and galloped into the melee, decapitating a flaming tongue ss’ressen with one swing.
Vlad rammed one of the barbed tails with his shield and hacked into the side of its neck. It batted the blade aside with a shrug of its shoulders. “Where’s Dril?”
Kham stumbled out from behind Vlad’s overturned wagon and took careful aim with two of his pistols. The barrels jerked and another ss’ressen’s head kicked back, but it kept coming.
A bellowing roar caused everyone to stop in their tracks.
Muscle rippling, his dual crests fanning behind Calactyte’s head, the ss’ressen seemed to grow in stature, teeth bared. All the ss’ressen on the battlefield turned to face him, even those in mid-combat.
“The frenzy has taken them!” shouted Ilmarė. “Get out of their way!” She twirled aside as one of the barbed tail ss’ressen barreled past her towards Cal.
“What?” shouted Vlad. “No way!” He held his ground as another barbed tail ss’ressen approached. Its claws scrabbled against Vlad’s shield. “Ha!” He lifted his blade for an easy blow. “My turn—“
There was a blinding flash as the ss’ressen heavy tail struck him sideways. Stunned, Vlad stumbled. The ss’ressen jumped past him towards Cal.
“Protect Cal!” shouted Beldin. “They’re after him!”
Beldin hacked downwards on an unprepared ss’ressen, severing its tail. It howled in agony, only to have its legs cut out from under it.
Calactyte roared again. With one massive claw, he grabbed one of the smaller ss’ressen by the head and shook it like a rag doll. The other, gripping his axe, was logged in a ss’ressen’s ribcage. He ducked low and swept the area with his tail, battering flaming tongue ss’ressen aside.
Ilmarė fired arrows into the backs of one of the attacking lizards. It didn’t react as it continued its heedless assault.
Bijoux glided down beside her. “They fight like creatures possessed. Why do they hate Cal so?”
“It’s not that they hate him,” said Ilmarė. “They were once bred for war against each other. When a ss’ressen smells the scent of another tribe, it goes into a blood frenzy.”
“Then they will kill him,” said Bijoux. “There are too many.”
Ilmarė shook her head and pointed at Sebastian.
The dark-kin’s wings were spread behind him. “Beldin, Vlad! Get ready!” He didn’t bother to address Calactyte—in his rage, he wouldn’t listen anyway.
“Incendiares…”
The ss’ressen stopped attacking Calactyte. They turned as one to face Sebastian.
Beldin crouched behind his shield. Vlad held Grungronazharr before him.
“Globus!”
The ensuing ball of flames consumed Calactyte, Beldin, and Vlad. The flaming tongue ss’ressen, immune to Sebastian’s attack, were felled before they could recover. Calactyte was covered in ash, smoke spiraling from his scorched scales.
“Well done,” said Vlad. “Now we can concentrate on finding Dril.”
Bijoux glided over to the Milandisian. Her eyes were brimming with tears. “Vlad…I can’t find him.”
“He must have been thrown from the explosion.” Vlad looked around helplessly. “Why aren’t you looking for him?”
“Because there’s nothing to find,” Kham said softly.
“What? That’s it?” Vlad stared at them in disbelief. “You’re just going to write him off? Sebastian, you survived that explosion! You can’t tell me Dril wouldn’t have survived it!”
Sebastian averted his gaze. Only his flicking tail betrayed his agitation.
“He’s dead, Vlad,” said Ilmarė forcefully. “There’s no body to find. That explosion was too powerful, even for him. And he wasn’t prepared.”
Vlad’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He slumped to the ground.
Calactyte lifted his head to the air, nostrils flaring. “We’re not done.”
Vlad looked over his shoulder at the big lizard, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
“There’s a ssanu…leading them…I can smell his scent.” One clawed hand reached out towards Vlad. “He’s ordering them to…attack us.”
Ilmarė drew her bow and pointed it at Calactyte. “Get away from him!”
Bijoux thrust her own clawed hand out to stay Ilmarė’s hand. “Please. Trust him.”
Slowly, gently, Calactyte put one hand on Vlad’s shoulder. “Get up.” He growled. “Or Dril’s sacrifice will be in vain.”
Three more ss’ressen, scales tinged a greenish-black, stepped onto the road. Behind them was a serpentine ssanu, casting a spell.
“Venomous scale ss’ressen!” shouted Calactyte. He charged forward, Vlad and Beldin flanking him. “Keep your shields up!”
They didn’t have to ask why. Seconds later, streams of acid spiraled through the air, splashing against both their shields. Calactyte was struck by a gout of acid, but if it hurt he didn’t show it.
Then they were upon them, three on three, claw against blade. Sebastian pointed at the ssanu, and magical bolts of blue and black energy were exchanged.
“I’ve had just about enough of this,” muttered Kham. He took aim and fired both pistols. The ssanu fell to the ground, its corpse smoking from the impact.
The remaining ss’ressen started, as if slapped. Calactyte took the opportunity to tear one of them apart, hacking and even biting his opponent’s throat. Vlad and Beldin made short work of the other two ss’ressen.
They scoured the camp, looking for any sign of Dril.
“We found only this.” Beldin offered up a twisted piece of metal, bent in half. It was Dril’s rifle.
Vlad took it reverently. “He would want it to be buried at his grave.”
Bijoux glided over to the ssanu’s body. A small viper had unwrapped itself from the ssanu’s arm and was slowly sliterhing away.
“Careful,” said Ilmarė. “You don’t know what that can do.”
The snake moved no more than a foot, before it stiffened and burned into a darkly shaded piece of wood. Bijoux picked it up and examined it closely.
With lightning speed, it transformed back into a snake and sunk its teeth into Bijoux’s wrist. She shrieked, but it was too late. The snake snapped itself around her arm and then transformed once more into wood.
“Are you all right?” asked Beldin.
Bijoux nodded. “It…it feels good, actually. I think it heals them.”
“The goods from the wagon are scattered everywhere,” said Sebastian.
“Including some of Master Elabac’s blades,” Beldin said sadly.
“And the remains of a Shining Patrol dispatch pouch.” Vlad shook his head. “Dril wasn’t telling us the whole story.”
“He belonged to the Shining Patrol, what did you expect?” snapped Kham. “What I want to know is where the ss’ressen got all that blastpowder from.”
“What a waste,” said Ilmarė. “We walk away from this empty-handed.”
“Not quite.” Beldin was gathering up weapons and armor. “We’ll make sure this delivery reaches Klos Ka’Ra. Master Elabac’s blades deserve that much.”
“Dril deserves that much,” Vlad said darkly.
Sebastian returned with Calactyte. “Perhaps it wasn’t a complete waste. We discovered tracks that led back to their camp.”
Calactyte loped over to drop a chest covered in dirt before them. “We found this.”
Ilmarė opened the lid and looked inside. She pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Maps of the area, a manifest of Dril’s cargo…and a list. In Ssethregoran, I’m guessing.”
She handed it to Calactyte, who stared at it curiously. “Uh…”
“He can’t even read his own language.” Kham snatched the paper away from Calactyte. His val blood allowed him to read all tongues. “It’s a list of all of our names. This was an inside job.”
Sebastian sighed. “Well, now we know how they got the blastpowder.”
“How?” asked Bijoux.
Sebastian held up a piece of clothing. It was a green tabard bearing a four-fingered claw insignia.
As the sun reached its peak and began to descend in the western sky, the journey continued to take them higher and higher into the mountain peaks. Just when it seemed as if they might actually reach the sun, Klos Ka’Ra came into view.
Klos ka’Ra was no simple mountain outpost. Massive columns of stone supported thirty-foot thick stone walls that extended from an inner keep. The inner keep was carved into the mountain itself, providing natural protection from all sides save the one covered by the huge wall. Dozens of cannons bristled on the wall and hundreds of well-armed Altherian patrolmen marched to and fro along the battlements.
“Interesting construction,” admired Beldin.
Sebastian tilted his head at Beldin. “How so?”
“From the looks of it, twelve stone archways have been recently added to the wall’s interior structure, but they don’t lead anywhere. The decorative artwork seems out of place.”
Several other caravans were also making their way into the hidden fortress from different directions. As the sun dropped below the mountain line directly behind Klos Ka’Ra, it created a warm halo of light around the fortress.
“Don’t try to understand Altherian architecture,” said Kham. “Just enjoy it.”
A tall, powerfully built man wearing the blue and white tabard of the Patrol approached. He had the insignia of a captain on his tabard, and beneath it he wore exquisitely crafted plate armor made of exotic materials crafted with red flames. The flames on his armor matched the shock of fiery red hair that crowned his head.
“Well if it isn’t Attalus val’Virdan.” Kham recognized him from the Great Hunt.
“Kham! Ilmarė! It’s good to see you both.” He shook both their hands. “You’re keeping strange company these days.”
Ilmarė looked sideways at her companions and shrugged.
“Come in, come in!” Attalus ushered both of them into the keep.
When Vlad attempted to follow, a hand stopped him. “Not you, Milandisian.” Attalus’ eyes narrowed. “You and the lizard can bunk down with the rest of the freaks in the stables.”
Kham and Ilmarė spent the remainder of the night as Attalus’ guest in the Shining Patrol’s officer’s quarters. Kham and Ilmarė were served a hot gourmet meal and a stout drink.
“Please, eat, drink. It must have been a long journey.”
“It was,” Kham said between mouthfuls. “The caravan was ambushed, but we recovered what we could.”
Attalus nodded. “And I am thankful for that. It seems you are always saving my hide, one way or another.” He grinned a white-toothed smile. It quickly vanished. “I did not see the dispatch pouch amongst the inventory.”
Kham took a swig from a goblet. “Destroyed, sorry.”
Ilmarė leaned forward and poked at a piece of meat with a fork. “What are you doing here, Attalus? Last we met, you were in Coryan.”
“Ah yes. I’ve been here for the last several months. My service is almost complete. General Bunkakin recently put me in charge of the fortress to make sure the new operations proceed smoothly.”
“So Garan pulled some strings.” Kham chomped on another mouthful of food.
“Garan val’Mehan and Muatama Bunkakin once served together in the Patrol.” Attalus frowned. “He thought it’d be safer for me here.”
Ilmarė sipped from her goblet. “Safer?”
“Although there have been recent reports of Ssethregoran movements and activities, that’s not out of the ordinary. General Bunkakin seems to think that the region is in some pending danger. We can house several thousand troops here now.” Attalus leaned back in his chair. “In fact, our biggest problem is getting dispatch pouches from Althre’!”
Kham stopped chewing. “All the Shining Patrol has been called back to Altheria, along with all able-bodied Altherian citizens. That sounds like preparations of war to me.”
Attalus shrugged. “The general has been stockpiling ammunition and even set up labs and workshops within the fortress to manufacture war materials. I don’t know why he doesn’t do it in the citadel at Semar. It’d be much safer there.”
“So Bunkakin thinks a war is imminent,” said Ilmarė.
“I’m not sure. The general sure is peculiar sometimes. He makes a big fuss over preparing for war, and then authorized a huge project just to build a bunch of statues of old Heroes of the Patrol. I still don’t understand why priests of Anshar would be commissioned for such a project. But what do I know, I’m just a soldier.”
“Yes.” Ilmarė peered at Attalus disdainfully over her mug. “Just.”
Attalus didn’t catch her tone. “Do you have business in Semar or will you be returning to Althre’?”
Kham cleared his throat. “I uh…have business there, yeah.”
“Kham came to Althre’ to pay respects to his deceased father and cousin.”
“Oh.” Attalus’ expression turned grim. “I’m sorry. As a member of the Shining Patrol, we will provide Dril with a memorial service tomorrow morning.“
Kham rubbed his forehead. “I’ve done enough of that lately.”
Attalus nodded. “Death seems to come in waves.” He clapped his hands. “Enough talk about such things. You’ve a hot bath and tub waiting for you, and goose down bedding to sleep on. Let it not be said that Attalus knows no hospitality!”
Bijoux, Vlad, Beldin, Sebastian, and Calactyte spent the remainder of the night alone under heavy guard in the Shining Patrol’s stables. They had a well-watched and somewhat restful evening, but they weren’t allowed to leave the stables except to visit the privy. Even those trips were under heavy guard.
“This sucks,” said Vlad.
“Why are they treating us like this?” Bijoux asked morosely.
“Because of who we are and where we come from,” said Beldin.
Calactyte snorted. “And because of me.”
There was a knock at stable door. A guard handed them a tray of stale bread and moldy cheese.
“Anywhere we can clean up?” asked Bijoux.
The guard pointed to a water trough. “You’re a cat, right? Clean yourself.”
Sebastian looked down at the ground. “I suppose these saddle blankets and hay are our bedding.”
Calactyte shrugged. “Looks comfortable to me.” The big lizard stretched out and was asleep in no time, snoring louder than ever.
“Can’t we just go home?” Bijoux asked hopefully.
“I have business in Semar.” Sebastian tried to fluff up a nearby saddle blanket.
“And I’m going with him,” said Beldin.
Bijoux looked askance at Calactyte. “Cal believes he owes you his life, so he’ll follow you there. And that means I’m going as well.”
The next morning, they all gathered at a grave site for soldiers. Dril’s surviving Altherian steeds drew the black carriage, containing only his rifle.
“Present ARMS!” shouted Attalus.
The casket was removed from the carriage. Attalus and Kham saluted.
An Altherian priest led the way to the grave site, followed by Sebastian, Calactyte, Vlad, and Beldin holding the casket.
They set down the casket and secured the Altherian flag, a white owl on a blue background.
Attalus ensured the flag was stretched out and level, and centered it over the casket. He backed away and the priest performed the service.
“Praise be to Althares, Lord of the Universe,
the Mercygiving, the Merciful!
Ruler on the Day for Repayment!
You do we worship and You do we call on for help.
Guide us along the Straight Road,
the road of those whom You have favored,
with whom You are not angry,
nor who are lost!”
The priest said, “assalamu alaikum.”
“Assalamu alaikum,” whispered Kham.
The priest backed away and Attalus stepped up to the casket. He turned to address the cannoneers along Klos Ka’Ra’s walls.
“Fire!”
Like thunder, the sounds of cannon fire collided with each other, setting off a mournful dirge throughout the mountains.
The cannon volley complete, a bugler played a sorrowful tune. Kham folded the flag up precisely and securely. He passed it to Attalus.
Attalus turned and presented the Altherian flag to Vlad. “Please accept our deepest condolences from the Shining Patrol on the passing of your friend and an Altherian veteran. We stand with honor for him who stood for us.”
Attalus then led them out in a slow procession to the gates of Klos Ka’Ra.
Bijoux looked over her shoulder as they left. Only one soldier was left at the grave site. He would watch over the casket until it was interred in the ground.
“They treated Vlad so poorly, and yet now showed such respect,” whispered Bijoux. “Why?”
From a nearby mountaintop, the massive form of the Black Citadel of Semar loomed. An imposing structure, it was carved from a single black piece of rock that rivaled the nearest mountain in size.
“They say that Semar was originally a military outpost built on an ancient ruin,” said Kham.
“I’ve heard that the mountain fortress houses ancient treasures of supreme power that even the scholars of Althares are unable to unlock,” said Beldin.
Ilmarė snorted. “I’ve heard that the Citadel has magic powers too. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
The Citadel’s uniform black composition definitely made it look evil. Carvings of demonic figures and valinor locked in a titanic battle decorated the outer walls and only heightened the foreboding that oozed from the fortress. Cannons protruded from the walls at regular intervals, their barrels house d protectively in stone carvings of infernal creatures.
“Looks like the city’s undergone some growth spurts since it was first established as a military outpost,” said Beldin. “The stone walls extended outward from the stronghold in a regular pattern.”
“Commerce has certainly made it grow,” observed Sebastian. “Judging from the swarm of activity in the city, business must be good.”
There was a distinct difference between Semar and Althre. In Althre, the entire city was a work of art. In contrast, Semar seemed plain and dull. A half-finished moat lay just outside the third wall.
“Those archways look familiar,” said Beldin. As they passed through the giant wooden gates, several artisans were visible working on stone archways that looked remarkably similar to the ones in Klos Ka’Ra.
“They’ve got a long way to go if they wish to rival Althre’,” said Kham. “You should stay at the Shining Shield Inn.”
The note Kham received when he was at Klos Ka’Ra indicated that Quablo val’Inares, a politician in Semar, wanted to meet with him for a matter of “unquestionable discretion.”
Finding the council building was a relatively easy task. The building was built to be a very small-scale replica of the meeting chamber for the Council of Wisdom in Althre’. Traveling thorough the first two walls of the city was easy: A cursory glance from some sharpshooters manning the walls and a couple of simple questions asked at the gates. But the third wall was entirely different.
The guard at the gate put one hand in front of Kham’s face. “Halt. Papers please.”
“Oh yeah.” Kham took out the document and showed it to the guard. As he did so, his overcoat revealed the pistol bandoleer across his chest.
“Do you have proper authorization to carry those?”
Kham lowered his green-tinted lenses, revealing his pupiless eyes. “Take a look.”
The guard stiffened. “Right.” He handed Kham’s papers back to him. “We’ll escort you.”
Once through the gate, Kham was taken under escort to the council building. At the building, he was once again subjected to questioning and a thorough search. He was then ushered into a waiting area.
A dark-skinned man met Kham. “Hello. I am Washaka, Quablo’s personal aide.” He handed Kham a glass of wine. “Savonan Red. I was told you enjoy it.”
Kham downed the drink in one shot. Washaka seemed unfazed. “You’ve done your homework.”
Washaka merely smiled and ushered Kham into a waiting room.
After a brief wait, Washaka returned and led him to a palatial inner chamber that obviously served as an office of someone of import. Seated behind a large marble desk, a distinguished-looking gentleman wearing blue silken robes rose in greeting.
“Hello my friend. I am Quablo val’Inares. Thank you so very much for coming on such short notice! Please, make yourself comfortable.” He motioned to carved marble chairs with silk upholstered cushions.
“Don’t mind if I do.” Kham flopped down on one of them. “So what’s this job you’re talking about?”
“I will come straight to the point. I believe the general in charge of the garrison of Semar is misappropriating funds. I need an outside, unbiased investigator to look into this matter for the good of the Altherian people.”
“What’s Bunkakin done to make you suspicious?”
“I am suspicious of him because of all the recent activity at Klos Ka’Ra. Bunkakin also contracted most of the alchemists, armorers and weapon smiths in Semar. All his men are equipped beyond their means. I understand he has several import-export contracts with the merchant’s guild as well. I would like to know what exactly Bunkakin is importing and exporting and where is getting all this funding. I know the military budget doesn’t even cover a fraction of the activity I’ve seen around here lately.”
“Interesting. I can do this, sure. Any place you want me to start?”
”Well, I have a list of likely places to find information and why I think the information may be there. The most likely place to start is the headquarters of the patrol. I understand they have a soldier on guard tonight who has been reported for drinking and sleeping on duty.” Quablo broke into a broad grin that only made him seem more sinister.”
He handed Kham a list.
“And pay?”
“Two-hundred owls for your trouble. I’m sure that a capable individual like yourself can have this wrapped up in no time.”
“Okay.” Kham got to his feet.
“Very good. Washaka will see you have any paperwork you need to pass unmolested between the walls. I’m afraid I cannot grant you access to the citadel itself; even I am forbidden to go there except in the vent of an attack. In case you haven’t noticed, the Shining Patrol is VERY dedicated to their job. I would strongly advise against provoking or antagonizing them. This investigation may do precisely that, so I recommend discretion.”
“Yeah, I know how to handle discrete matters,” said Kham. He turned to walk out the door.
“Be wary of Bunkakin,” said Quablo. “The general is as smooth as a val’Mehan emissary and as duplicitous as a Freeport slaver.”
The Shining Shield Inn was the finest in Semar. Constructed of a shiny golden-hued stone, it literally shined in the sunlight. The crystal shield hanging from the signpost at the front of the inn was positioned to catch one of the light rays emitted from the Tower of Althares at night. When the light struck the shield, it glowed with a brilliance of its own.
Sebastian walked over to the bar. “I hear you have a special stew?”
The bartender looked at him curiously. “You should sit and enjoy the show, my friend. I’m sure we can dig something up for you.”
On stage, a beautiful veiled woman belly-danced, her hips snapping at high speed. She leaned forward and gestured toward Sebastian.
Sebastian shifted in his seat. The woman stepped off the stage and took off one of her veils, roping it around the dark-kin’s neck. She leaned close, so close that Sebastian could feel her breath on his ear.
“Go to the privy. Now.”
She continued to dance around him and then, just as quickly, lost interest and returned to the stage.
Sebastian waited a moment and then made his way to the privy.
The bartender entered a moment later. He closed and locked the door behind him.
“Hello my friend. I am Jalil.”
“Sebastian Arnyal.” They exchanged signs indicating that they both belonged to the Sanctorum of the Arcane.
“What can I do for you?”
“Someone is selling items of immense power on the black market. I need to put a stop to it.”
Jalil’s face darkened. “I suspect the general. Several items were confiscated from the Chronicler’s Repository by the Sanctorum.”
“Have you any evidence?”
“If there is any hard evidence against the general, it will likely be found in his office at the Shining Patrol’s headquarters.”
Sebastian nodded.
“In addition to confirming the identity of the seller, the Sanctorum would also like to know the name of the person purchasing the items.”
“I will see what I can do.” Sebastian turned to leave. “Oh, one other thing.”
“Yes?”
“Please wait five minutes before leaving this privy.” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t look good for two men to leave a privy together.”
Serpentine Path: Part 6b – Shining Patrol Headquarters
The Shining Patrol headquarters was housed in a huge granite building. Inside were a myriad of offices serving as embassies for every contributing faction to the Shining Patrol. A transition area where recruits were processed into the Patrol or released from service took up the majority of space. A much smaller section housed the permanent local command staff of the Patrol.
Kham made his way to the general’s office. A guard was out front, half-asleep.
“Wake up soldier!” snapped Kham. “You’re guarding the general!”
The soldier blinked awake. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Yardan.”
“Listen, Yardan. I don’t want to go in there to talk to your commanding officer about you screwing up. AGAIN. So I recommend we keep this little conversation I’m about to have with him between you and me. What do you say?”
The soldier swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Kham pushed past him and entered the general’s quarters.
The general looked up from his desk. Kham plunked himself down on a chair in front of the general’s desk and tapped the glittering emerald on his overcoat. “Hi Muatma. My name’s Kham val’Abebi and we have a problem.”
The general nearly stood up. “How’d you get in here?”
“Not important. What is important is that you’ve got a politician who wants to interrupt the flow of artifacts from Semar. Our mutual friends sent me to stop that.”
Muatma relaxed. “So you’re with Falthar and the Society.”
“Yes, but that’s not the problem.” He tossed Quablo’s list onto Muatma’s desk. “The problem is that Quablo val’Inares just tired to hire me to stop you.”
“Stop me?” Muatama’s face reddened as he red the note. “That idiot has dug into my budget enough that I had to cancel the work on the moat in favor of continued funding for the watchtowers! That’s why I contacted Falthar…he’s been trading for the relics I found beneath Semar.” He tore the note up into little pieces.
“Oh I understand,” Kham said quietly. “And I think Quablo knows exactly what he’s doing. I think he wants a war. We found this.” He threw Dril’s manifest onto the desk. “It’s in Ssethregoran. We were ambushed by a group of well-armed ss’ressen. They knew exactly what they were doing.”
The general nodded. “That’s not the first caravan to go missing.”
“This was different. Muatama…” Kham leaned forward. “The ss’ressen ambush used a blast powder trap. Where did they get it from?”
The general hesitated. “I sold some blastpowder to the mercenary company called The Serpent’s Claw. I never thought I would have to resort to such means just to perform my duties.”
Kham was quiet for a moment. He reached into his pouch and pulled out one of the tabards. “We found this in the ss’ressen camp.” He tossed the tabard on the desk.
Muatama stared at the tabard, stunned. “Althares’ ass!” he shouted. “I’ve killed my own men!”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re doing what you have to do.”
Mautama pulled a bottle and two glasses out of a drawer. “I need a drink.” He poured both glasses and then gulped his down in one shot.
Kham took the drink and did the same. After a moment, he finally spoke.
“We’ve got to throw this Quablo guy off the trail. And right now, I have to look like I’m against you. So I’m going to have to get arrested. Nothing too drastic, but enough to make it look like I muscled my way in here and pissed you off.”
“After your arrest, I’ll put Yardan as your guard. He always falls asleep anyway.” Muatama poured himself another drink. “As for the distraction...” He reached for the pistol at his belt and pointed it at the ceiling.
“No, wait—“
The ensuing blast knocked chips of plaster from the ceiling. Yardan came skidding into the room, weapon out.
“Yardan! This man just tried to attack me! Take him to the garrison.”
Yardan looked at Kham, who had nothing but a drink in his hands. He looked as surprised as Yardan.
“But sir, an attack on you is grounds for execution…”
“Damn it, Yardan, do as I tell you!”
Yardan stiffened and saluted. “Yes sir!”
Kham offered his wrists up and Yardan slapped Altherian-made handcuffs on them. Then he led Kham out.
Serpentine Path: Part 7 – I’m Not as Think as You Drunk I Am!
Calactyte was sipping his drink at the bar when four Shining Patrolmen stumbled into the Shining Shield Inn.
“Hey!” shouted one of them, pointing at Cal. “Looks, it’s a scalebag! Hey, scalebag! I need a new pair of shoes! Why don’t you come over here and we’ll cut a couple of pounds off of you!”
“Ignore them,” said Bijoux, who sat next to him. Calactyte stayed still.
“I’m talking to you, snake boy! Turn around when I’m talking to you!”
Calactyte didn’t turn around.
One of the patrolmen put one hand on Calactyte’s massive shoulder.
The lizard spun around and hissed, towering over the patrolman.
Just then, every other patron that wasn’t one of Calactyte’s companions threw off their cloaks and drew their blades.
“You are under arrest for attacking a member of the Shining Patrol,” said the provocateur. Hands shoved Calactyte’s snout into the bar and handcuffs were placed on his wrists. “That’ll teach lizards to walk around pretending they’re decent people.”
“Don’t resist, Cal,” whispered Bijoux. “It will only make things worse.”
A moment after twenty Shining Patrolmen led out Calactyte, Sebastian entered. With their sudden departure, the Shining Shield Inn was complete deserted.
“What did I just miss?” he asked in disbelief.
Beldin looked sourly into his drink. “Looks like Altherians aren’t as sophisticated as they like to think they are.”
Calactyte was led to a prison cell. To his surprise, Kham was waiting for him in the cell.
“Stay alert, Yardan,” muttered the first patrolmen who had provoked Calactyte. “We’ll keep both of these traitors here until the general is ready to question them.”
Calactyte’s axe, Kham’s scimitar Talon, and his pistols were all neatly lined up on the far wall, out of reach from the prison cell. The other guardsmen marched out after shooting dirty looks and muttering curses. That just left Yardan.
“What are you doing here?” asked Cal.
“Long story.” Kham lounged on the cell’s one pallet as if it were a cushioned sofa.
Calactyte slumped to the ground. “They don’t like me.”
“True,” said Kham. “But then, you’re pretty scary looking.”
The lizard bobbed his head. “Do you still have Fleshripper?”
“Nah, got rid of that thing awhile ago.” Kham’s eyes were on Yardan the whole time as they talked. “I heard you almost froze to death in Enpebyn.”
“Yes. Sebastian saved me.”
Yardan’s lids lowered a bit as he leaned against the wall, facing them.
“We visited your tribe. They were concerned about you. My cousin, Pallas…he was doing some crazy things out there in Milandir.”
Calactyte nodded. “I know that not all humans are like that.”
Kham looked down at the floor. “Tell that to Pallas. This is a weird thing to say but I’m pretty sure the general had you arrested for your own safety.”
Hours went by. Yardan’s eyes closed and his breathing slowed.
Calactyte shrugged. “I’m worried for Sebastian. I owe him my life.” He cocked his head, remembering something. “Have you seen Emric?”
“Which one?”
Calactyte blinked. “The Chosen One of Yig.”
“Oh, right. I don’t know how to put this to you…” he struggled to come up with the right words. “But Emric died fighting an incarnation of the Unspeakable One, The King in Yellow. Yig used him as an avatar of sorts. He was buried under an avalanche.”
Calactyte was very still. “So his death was not in vain.”
“No,” said Kham. “Bravest little lizard I’ve ever met.”
“Then he was twice blessed,” said Cal. “He was chosen by Yig to be her champion and he died fighting for a just cause.”
Kham smiled. “When you put it that way…yeah, I guess he was.”
More time passed. Early morning sunlight streamed through the small windows. Yardan had started snoring.
“Okay, that’s our cue.” Kham looked into his haversack. “Skiz? Wake up.”
The talking rat’s head popped out of Kham’s extradimensional pack. Yardan hadn’t thought to search Kham beyond his weapons. “Yeah boss?”
“I need you to get the keys off of that idiot’s belt over there.” He pointed at Yardan. The keys dangled tantalizingly from his belt.
“Sure, no problem boss.” Skiz hopped out and landed on the ground. Then he caught a glimpse of Cal. “WHOA!”
Calactyte sniffed at the rat.
“Are you sure you want to let this thing out?” asked Skiz in a panic. “It’ll tear you apart!”
“It’s okay Skiz. He’s a friend.”
“What?” Skiz sniffed back at Cal. “This big thing is friendly? It looks like it’d eat you as soon as look at you!”
“Don’t worry about him,” said Kham. “Just concentrate on the keys.”
Cal and Skiz didn’t move. They just stared at each other.
“Okay, boss. I’ll go get the keys, but I’d like it to be noted that I am officially freaked out.”
“Hey,” said Calactyte. “This isn’t easy for me either!”
In no time, Skiz scampered up Yardan’s leg, grabbed the keys, and dragged them back over to Kham.
“Good job, Skiz.” Kham reached around and unlocked the cell.
“Thanks little buddy,” said Calactyte with a wide-toothed grin.
Skiz squeaked and dove into Kham’s pouch.
The big lizard froze. “Wait.” He sniffed the air.
Kham opened the cell door. “What?”
Something obscured the window, causing the sunlight to dim.
“Black powder. Burning.”
Kham heard a distinct sizzling sound.
“Back in the cell!” Calactyte grabbed the cell door with both hands and yanked it closed just as an explosion rocked the building.
Serpentine Path: Part 9a – This Might Sting a Bit!
The sun had just risen and the companions had gathered for an early morning meal at the Shining Shield Inn. The food was, as always, delicious. The Tower of Althares’ Light still sent out tendrils of illumination in the early morning fog. The city was just beginning to awaken. Several merchants began moving wagons about the city.
“Well, the place is a little livelier today,” said Beldin.
There were more patrons, presumably not Shining Patrolmen in disguise.
“That’s strange,” said Ilmarė.
“What?” asked Sebastian.
“A merchant just parked his wagon at the base of one of the warning towers, near the stables.”
“He’s probably bringing a resupply of blast powder,” said Vlad.
Ilmarė stood up suddenly as the merchant lit a tindertwig, tossed into the wagon, and ran in the other direction.
“Down!”
A huge ball of fire engulfed the tower and sent a destructive shockwave in all directions. A patrolman that was passing by disintegrated into a crimson mist.
Beldin kicked the table up in front of them. Sebastian and Ilmarė cowered behind it. Bijoux and Vlad leaped behind the bar.
The wave slammed into the wall and glass steel windows. They held, but several pieces of wall collapsed, and the windows ballooned inward, barely freeing themselves from their lower mountings.
Sebastian got to his feet. “Everyone all right?”
The window was a crimson and gray chunk-covered ghost of its former self. The patrolman’s grisly remains dripped onto the sill and into the inn as the warning bells of Semar rang in earnest. Many patrons were unconscious, covered in rubble.
Everywhere, the citizens of Semar began to run and scream in panic. Seemingly from out of nowhere, an invading force of serpentine warriors descended upon the city.
Flying Ssethregoran archers attacked at random. Members of the Shining Patrol fought for their lives as the outer wall of the city was overrun with hordes of enemy soldiers.
“Grab who you can!” shouted Vlad. “We’ve got to get them out of here!”
“I think we’ve got a bigger problem.” Bledin stared up through the window.
Serpentine Path: Part 9b – This Might Sting a Bit!
Outside, chaos reigned. To the right, a man was struck through the top of his head with an arrow, an arrow that turned into a snake and slithered out of his gaping, gurgling mouth as he fell to the ground dead.
“Get out of the path of the tower!” shouted Beldin. The tower’s shadow loomed over them. If they didn’t get out of its shadow soon, it would crush everyone between the inn and the base of the tower. “We don’t have much time!”
Calactyte and Kham were running towards them, freed from the prison that had once been at the base of the tower.
To the left, several petite women ran from a residence, each cradling an infant. Reptilian soldiers surrounded one of them. She tried valiantly to fight them off, but her efforts were cut short as one of the ss’ressen spat a sticky glob into her face.
“No!” Bijoux shouted in dismay. She pointed with one claw, the other covering her mouth in horror.
With a wicked scowl, the ss’ressen snatched the infant from the woman’s grasp, ripped its head off, and returned the dripping head to her.
“Illiir!” Beldin didn’t stop dragging people out of the path of the tower.
With a flick of its claw, the ss’ressen disemboweled the helpless woman. It grinned in Bijxoux’s direction as it licked its claw clean.
Vlad dropped a serving wench’s unconscious form and struggled to draw his blade. “We can’t rescue everyone and fight those things at the same time!”
Calactyte whirled, axe out. “Go. I will take care of this.”
“Cal!” shouted Ilmarė. “You can’t, there’s too many!”
The venomous scale ss’ressen menaced the remaining women and children.
“GO!” The ss’ressen whirled, axe out. “They will follow me in frenzy.” He roared, ear flaps rising up, muscle bugling with rage. “MOMMA’S COMING!”
The lizards heard Calactyte’s challenge and responded in kind. The human women fled as the ss’ressen were distracted.
Calactyte charged towards them, his clawed feet pounding the pavement beneath him in little clouds of dust. Acid spewed forth, striking the big ss’ressen again and again, but Cal was undeterred. The fury with which he descended upon the ss’ressen shocked even his bloodthirsty opponents.
Cal swung low, disemboweling one of the ss’ressen with a swipe of his axe. His tail slapped another ss’ressen down before it could retaliate.
But there were too many. One leaped on his back. Then another. And another. Clawing, biting, roaring.
Ilmarė knocked an arrow and took aim. Then she stopped and lowered her bow.
“What are you doing?” Bijoux asked, incredulous. Ilmarė was the only one not helping drag people out of the path of the tower. “Help him!”
“Cal knows exactly what he’s doing,” said Ilmarė. “He’s drawing them to him.”
More and more enemy ss’ressen poured through the gates. A mass of scaled bodies concealed Calactyte’s chaotic melee. Gouts of blood spiraled up and attackers were tossed aside, but soon the conflict became a boiling mass of reptiles beneath the shadow of the tower.
“No!” shouted Bijoux. “Calactyte, NO!” Having dragged the last person to safety, she launched herself in the air. “We have to help him!”
Sebastian rolled out of the path as rocks pelted the area. He drew a wand of resilient sphere, the same wand he used to stop the explosives in Freeport. The tower was just about to collapse.
“If I time this just right…”
Suddenly the combat stopped. The ss’ressen all looked downwards. Cal had fallen.
Spears raised up above them. There was a shrill hiss, loud enough that even the humans knew to be a cry of horror. The ss’ressen finally were released from their frenzy, staring up in shock at the tower…
Then it fell. Tons of rock and rubble pounded the path between the tower’s base and the Shining Shield Inn. Dust obscured all vision. Calactyte had taken out dozens of enemies, but at a terrible cost.
“We have to leave!” shouted Kham. “There’s more coming!”
“No!” screamed Bijoux, tears streaming down her face. “We can dig him out! We can dig him out!” She launched herself into the haze of blood and dust.
“There’s no way…” Sebastian shook his head, wand still outstretched. “Even if the wand worked…there’s so much rubble…”
Thousands of Ssethreograns poured through the breached wall. Already, they were swarming along the streets and buildings of the city. Overhead, flying reptiles attacked with ranged and breath weaponry.
Behind them, cannon thundered ominously from the citadel.
“To Klos Ka’Ra to regroup!” shouted a patrolman. “We will hold the gate as long as we can!”
Beldin tugged on Sebastian’s arm. “Let’s go!”
But it was too late. The thousands of scaled horrors outside the wall had sealed off their exit to Klos Ka’Ra. They would have to fight their way through the Ssethregoran horde to the citadel.
A grim-faced squad of Patrolmen met them just in front of an advancing group of Ssethregorans,
“Holden?” asked Vlad in disbelief. “You’re stationed here?”
Holden Ash’ur, the Milandisian who had loyally fought at their side at the Gate of Tears, nodded grimly. He took Vlad’s arm in greeting.
“We will buy you as much time as we can.” He handed Vlad his empty flintlock rifle.
“You’ve come a long way from being a clerk,” said Kham.
Holden shook his head. “I’m still a clerk.” His silence indicated the hopelessness of the situation. Even the clerks were fighting.
“But Holden, you can’t…” Vlad trailed off. He could see a bitter determination and a quiet acceptance in Holden’s eyes.
“We will not die easily,” Holden said grimly. They would not survive the day and they knew it.
Holden drew his sword. The other Shining Patrolmen did likewise. Although they were dirty and bloody, they formed up into a line with perfect precision.
He looked them over with a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth. Then, with tears in his eyes, Holden faced the Ssethregoran horde. “CHARGE!”
Holden led two hundred mounted Shining Patrolmen through the gates of Semar across the courtyard. Behind them, the people of Semar watched from the battlements.
Ilmarė lifted her arms and closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?” asked Sebastian in confusion.
“Singing for the dead.”
Holden’s men fanned out to form one straight line of two hundred horsemen. The Ssethregorans watched as the Patrolmen approached.
“Bar naadel, I ardhon nîf,” Home was behind them. The world lay ahead.
The patrolmen increased their gallop as a Ssethregoran scout noticed their approach.
“A ennas nameneg padalond.” There were many paths to tread.
Holden’s Patrolmen were seventy-five yards away, thundering towards the Ssethregorans.
“Godref dae an I lanc ned daw.” Through shadow unto the edge of the night.
One of the larger Ssethregorans knocked an arrow.
“Abielenath na calad.” Until the stars were all alight.
Then five hundred Ssethregorans turned as one, serpent arrows already strung on their bows.
“Hîth a dae, fân a gwath:” Mist and shadow, cloud and shade:
Holdun shouted defiantly. Two hundred Patrolmen rode straight into a black wall of flying arrows.
“Pân innas thinna, pân innas thinna.” All would fade, all would fade.
As one, the horses and horsemen landed upon the Ssethreograns with a mighty clash as steel met tooth, claw, and flesh.
“Now’s our chance!” Beldin raised Windcutter, spittle flying from his lips. “For Calactyte!”
Vlad strapped Holden’s empty rifle to his back and drew Grungronazharr. “For Holden!”
Beldin and Vlad slammed into the first wave of barbed tail ss’ressen. The lizards were hissing and spitting, fighting with terrible ferocity.
Vlad smashed into one with his shield and stabbed upwards, but his estimation of lizard anatomy was off. The ss’ressen batted aside Vlad’s shield with its club.
Vlad grunted and whirled, only to see Beldin hack the legs out from one of the advancing ss’ressen.
Kham became a whirlwind of slices and cuts. He ducked low and high, slashing with his saber and plunging his dagger into a nearby ss’ressen, who staggered backwards.
The ss’ressen swung its tail at Vlad. He blocked the blow with his shield and with a mighty hack, chopped the lizard’s tail clean off. As it shrieked in agony, he plunged Grungronazharr through its throat.
Kham dove and rolled, sheathing his blades as he did so. When the val came up, he was directly beneath a surprised ss’ressen. It faced down two pistols…
Ilmarė fired arrow after arrow. Two pierced the eye sockets of a ss’ressen, but it clawed in blind rage towards her.
Beldin swung Windcutter in a wide arc before him, knocking two ss’ressen backwards. Another ss’rsessen to his left exploded up into the air as Kham’s pistols discharged into its chest at point blank range. It fell backwards into its companions in a bloody spray.
“There’s too many!” shouted Ilmarė. She drew her thinblade and speared the blind ss’ressen through the heart. Unlike Vlad, she knew lizard anatomy all too well. “We need to clear a path!”
Ss’ressen and rubble exploded upwards like tossed rag dolls as Sebastian’s fireball blasted through their ranks. Shrieks and hisses echoed through the smoke and the charred stench of dead ss’ressen filled the air.
”Will that do?” asked Sebastian.
They charged through the opening into the citadel beyond.
The day wore nerves and spirits thin. Through the valiant sacrifices of many, the citadel still held…barely.
Sebastian looked out over the walls from his position at one of the citadel’s tower windows. Kham and Ilmarė watched with him.
The change to the once-proud city was profound. Everywhere, buildings lay burning or in ruin. The sewers of the city could not contain the mass carnage and had backed up. As a result, the streets ran red with blood.
Down below in the base of the citadel, Vlad and Beldin conferred with the general.
“A great host, you say?” asked Muatma.
“It’s as if all of Ssethregore was emptied,” said Vlad.
“How many?”
“Ten thousand strong at least.”
“Ten-thousand!”
“It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy Semar.”
“Let them come.” Muatma walked outside. “I want every man and strong lad able to bear arms, to be ready for battle by nightfall. We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever set foot inside the citadel.”
“This is not a rabble of mindless orcs,” said Beldin. “These are Ssethregorans. Their scales are thick and their tails broad.”
“I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf,” chastised Muatma. “I know how to defend my own citadel. They will break upon this fortress like water on rock. The Ssethregoran hordes will pillage and burn. We’ve seen it before. Crops can be resown. Homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them.”
“They do not come to destroy Semar’s crops or villages. They come to destroy its people. Down to the last child!”
“What would you have me do? Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread. If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance!”
“Send out riders!” pleaded Vlad. “You must call for aid.”
“And who will come. Elorii? Dwarves? We are not so lucky in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead.”
“Milandir would answer.”
“Milandir? Where was Milandir when our enemies closed in around us? Where was Milandir—No, Vlad, we are alone.”
Vlad handed Holden’s rifle to the general. “This was Holden Ash’ur’s rifle. A Milandisian. He gave it to me before he led the charge that enabled us to escape.”
Muatma turned it over in his hands. “I knew him. He was my clerk.”
Vlad nodded.
“If we live through the day, he will be given the highest honors. But right now, all our hopes rest on the Patrolmen I sent to Klos Ka’Ra.” Muatma walked away from Vlad and barked orders at his men. “Get the women and children into the center of the citadel.”
“We need more time to lay provisions for a siege,” replied the solider.
“There is no time. War is upon us! Secure the gate!”
“Look!” shouted Sebastian.
Muatma and Vlad ran up to the window to see.
An Altherian airship appeared on the horizon.
“That’s The Damned,” said Kham.
The airship was swarmed with flying reptiles. Cannon fire echoed in tiny bursts of red and yellow around the ship. Seconds later, smoke spiraled from several places.
“They’re not going to make it!” wailed Vlad.
The ship crash-landed just inside the walls of the citadel, its crew and cargo smashed and scattered. Muatma barked commands to see to the survivors.
“You’re taking this awfully well,” said Kham.
Muatma’s expression was grim. His eyes never left the window. “Watch.”
Another supply ship, Cadic’s Grace, appeared from its invisibility sphere just above the opposite wall of the citadel. It came to a safe, graceful landing in the courtyard.
“That was a diversion!” exclaimed Beldin.
Muatma turned to a waiting soldier. “Now!”
The soldier raised a flag, seen by other messengers who passed the order on to their commanders. Waves of patrolmen from Klos Ka’Ra appeared through teleportation portals secretly constructed on the outer city walls. They hit the distracted Ssethregoran army in the flank.
The men were gaining ground. Vast numbers of ss’ressen were slain or fled.
“We might just have a chance…” Muatma whispered to himself. But his hopeful expression turned to horror.
There was a slow, rhythmic WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH.
It was a deep, vibrant sound. A wave of fear and dread passed over them.
Large green scales covered the massive muscles that propelled the huge creature of legend in an impossibly graceful flight. Reveling in the panic caused by its mere presence, the scaled horror landed its massive bulk just in front of the citadel’s mighty metal gates. The cobblestones beneath the creature burst into dust from the impact of its thunderous landing.
“To the gates! Man the gates!” Muatma was mounted on his Altherian war steed.
Muatma charged his way to the gate. He led several hundred Shining Patrolmen down through the streets. Vlad and Beldin followed behind on their own steeds. Ilmarė and Sebastian followed on foot.
With one massive wing, the dragon swept dozens of cannon and men from the right wall near the gate. A casual flick of its tail decimated an entire squad of Patrolmen foolish enough to attack it.
Then the creature began to draw in a massive breath of air. Its sides expanded even larger than before.
“It’s going to breathe…” whispered Sebastian.
The beast exhaled a huge amount of flame and superheated air directly against the gates of the citadel. The flames streamed against the gate for a full minute before subsiding. And though massive amounts of white-hot metal pooled at the base, the gates still held.
Muatma rallied the line of riflemen as they waited in front of the gate. Their courage wavered with each blast. “Steady! Steady!”
Not yet satisfied, the dragon began to inhale another massive breath, and again released its destructive power against the metal gates. Again, white-hot metal pooled at the base of the gates, but they held…
“You are soldiers of Altheria!” shouted Muatma. “No matter what comes through that gate you will stand your ground!”
The dragon slammed its massive head directly into the gate’s red-hot center. Under the dual onslaught of flame and force, the gates finally collapsed into molten rubble.
“Fire!” shouted Muatma.
Cannon and flintlock fired in volley from the citadel, but the shots just ricocheted off the beast’s thick hide.
Muatma turned to address Vlad, Beldin, and Kham. “Let this be the hour when we draw our swords together!” He drew his sword.
Giant ss’ressen entered through the gate, under an archway that no enemy had ever passed.
Kham drew Talon. Beldin drew Windcutter. Vlad drew Grungronazharr. They were charging into certain death.
Ss’ressen swarmed through the opening and the pitched, hand-to-hand battle spilled into flames and blackened, smoldering buildings throughout the streets of Semar.
With a roar, Muatma led a counterattack, followed by several hundred Shining Patrolmen.
Ilmarė never even lifted her blade.
“You’re not going with them?” asked Sebastian. “I would have followed, but my presence upsets the horses.”
“They don’t have a chance,” she whispered. “There are too many.”
Just then a loud voice carried over the battlefield from high on a citadel wall.
An old man, clad in only a white robe, was the source of the voice and he seemed to address the dragon. Surrounding him were a score of dwarves bearing the distinctive beards of the Encali enclave.
“Illiir will have now what was once denied!” shouted the old man.
The dwarves gestured in unison with him as he chanted a ritual. The dragon’s head snapped around, eyeing the ritual uncertainty. For the first time, the beast hesitated.
With a lightning fast motion, the dragon released another stream of unstoppable fire against the citadel. The old man simply raised his hands and the fire parted harmlessly around him. In the fire, something was outlined…a ghostly image made of the purest white light, with hands outstretched in supplication and angelic wings raised behind it.
“Valinor,” whispered Sebastian.
Seeing his breath weapon so easily thwarted, the dragon suddenly took flight, seeking to flee the battlefield. It had reached the edge of the horizon just as the chant of the dwarves reached a fever pitch. The chanting abruptly ended and as the dragon crested the nearby mountain range, a huge explosion engulfed the creature.
The shockwave traveled for miles, sundering stone, wood, and flesh. Even at a distance, Sebastian was knocked off his feet by the concussion. The dragon was nowhere to be seen, the only evidence of its passing a corkscrew of smoke athat disappeared out of sight.
Muatma circled Sebastian and Ilmarė on his horse. “Reform the line! Reform the line!”
With the loss of their greatest weapon, the Ssethregoran army seemed to despair. The outnumbered Patrolmen began fighting with renewed fury.
Beldin, Vlad, and Kham arrived on foot, their mounts lost in the melee. All of them were bloody.
“It ends here,” grunted the dwarf. He outlined a circle around him on the ground with Windcutter, the blade sparking as it scraped across brick.
“I’m not going to go down without a fight,” snarled Vlad.
Kham sheathed his blades and took out his pistols. “For Altheria.”
“Let them come!” Beldin swigged several potions. His formed shuddered and grew even as the stone cracked beneath him, as if Beldin had become so heavy that the earth itself struggled to uphold him. “A giant of old will show these lizards what it means to face the Might of Illiir!”
Ilmarė knocked her bow. “Great. They have ss’ressen from the Agamis clutch.”
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