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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4380890" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 71THE RAVAGERIn the sky above the Ravager’s perch, atop the remnants of the hilltop adjoining Rappan Athuk, the surviving defenders launched magical attacks that seemed as futile as they were tiny against its bulk.  Much of the creature remained half-buried in the chaos of unearthed boulders, heaped earth, and jagged timber that it had created as it had burrowed up from the prison complex deep underground.  Drawn by some instinct to the locus of the enemies fighting against its spawn, the Ravager had bypassed the broken wards and sundered traps of the ancient prison and burrowed up directly into the midst of those that would challenge its newly-won freedom. Lightning flashed in the air, but it barely marked the Ravager’s crimson hide.  Magic missiles vanished into it, less than pinpricks, the slight injury they inflicted easily repaired by the creature’s monstrous properties of regeneration.  It had killed at least a dozen men and women in its sudden and violent appearance, and some trickle of their life force had found its way into the monster, siphoned off by another grim power of ancient lore imparted by its creators. Letellia conjured a crushing fist that delivered a glancing blow to the creature’s head.  Just barely too strong to ignore, the attack drew an immediate response; the Ravager merely opened its jaws and engulfed the fist.  That reaction might have given it at least some indigestion, but the creature’s touch disrupted the sorceress’s magic, and her conjuration dissolved as thoroughly as if the fist had been a morsel of flesh.  Around the base of the hill, dust-covered, battered forms stirred among the rubble, groaning as they slowly pulled themselves free of the debris.  Here and there an arm, a leg, or another part of a body was visible, lying limp, their owners slain by the concussive force of the Ravager’s arrival, or by shards of flying stone, or by the hard landing at the base of the cliff, or by being buried by the subsequent rockfall.  A legionary, his arm dangling at an improbable angle, staggered through the wreckage, calling a name that was lost in the chaos that still raged around him.  Dar did not call out, but his face was a tight agony as he crawled through the clutter, his severed arm pressed tightly against his body.  Blood left a generous trail in his wake, and it was clear that only sheer stubborn persistence kept him going now.  His weapons lost, his body broken, all he could do now was make his way to the goal he’d seen before from above.  The spell that had carried him aloft had been broken, or it had expired, and all he had left to carry him now was the lingering remnants of his strength. Still, he reached Allera, lying limp in the dust that covered her face and clothes.  He pulled her against him, his arm leaving a bright red mark on her tattered robe.  “Angel,” he croaked, the dust thick in his throat.  “Angel, wake up... we need you.  I need you.”At first, he thought she was dead.  He could not feel the warmth of her body through his heavy mail, and his good hand was numb, unable to feel anything but a vague echo of the pain that radiated from his other, severed limb.  He tried to open her satchel, which miraculously still clung to her hip on a much-abused strip of leather.  His fingers fumbled on the latch, and his vision blurred as rare tears appeared.  He shook his head, partly in frustration, partly at anger at himself.  The motion caused his vision to blur.  He was already starting to drift; even Corath Dar had only so much blood in his body to lose. A stone the size of a wagon wheel struck the ground six paces away, but he could not feel the shards that pinged loudly against his armored back.  Looking up, he was only vaguely aware of the Ravager’s movements.  It had pulled itself up out of the shaft it had dug, and clung to the top of the hill like a bird defending its nest.  It hissed in what seemed to Dar to be irritation at the flying ants that continued to harry it.  White shafts briefly flashed in his vision, but he no longer had enough awareness to recognize the arrows from the lillend’s bow.  He didn’t see Allera’s eyes open, or feel her hand on his arm.  But the sudden sweet surge of healing magic cut through the haze into which he was falling, and brought him back fully into consciousness.  Her spell had not been strong enough to fully heal him, but she had clearly channeled some of it into herself, for her gaze was strong as he finally met it with his own.  She had noticed his amputation, and closed her hand without flinching over the stump, which was now covered in a tender layer of freshly-healed skin.  “I seem to keep losing that arm,” he said, almost laughing with his relief.  But before she could respond, another impact nearby drew their attention back up. The Ravager’s movements were dislodging more of the hill, provoking new slides which tumbled down the hill.  It was only a matter of time before something hit them.  “We’ve got to get out of here,” he said.  He started to rise, but she held him with her hand, her eyes steady.  “No.  This is the time, and this is the place.  I will need you... to hold me, to anchor me.  There is going to be... a cost.” He nodded.  He did not try to caution her; there was no need.  He held her, protecting her with his body, as she drew upon her power, the deep thread that connected her to the life energies that suffused this world.  The magic that fueled her healing, and which she had wielded against the darkness of this world, and worlds beyond. Her head lifted, and her eyes fluttered up into their sockets, showing almost all white.  Her body shook, but Dar held her, serving as her anchor, as she drew that power into herself, using it to tear open a portal in the very fabric of reality. The gate opened in the air above them, maybe a hundred feet above the Ravager.  A brilliant light issued from within, accompanied by a sound both unreal and sublime, a note of simple purity that caused those mortals gathered here to stare up in surprise, the pain of their wounds and the desperation of their circumstances temporarily forgotten. Allera send a calling through the portal, and the hosts of Heaven answered.</blockquote>

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