Quatha Vellar
Elnamerrna, riding parking orbit
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Tyfelian and Jalaysa walked through her portal vortex and reappeared in the Silver Triop's cargo bay.
They found Barolcot there. The dwarf had been pacing the bay and stroking his beard nervously, but he stopped when he saw Tyfelian.
"Nothin' yet, but they're a'comin'," he warned. "I've got the damage control teams ready."
"We'll need them," Tyfelian predicted. He had never fought a dragon in space, but he knew their abilities on the ground, so he expected the Elnamerrna to suffer.
"That reminds me," he went on, still addressing Barolcot. "I know she's working by herself now, but what progress has Jaclyn made on letting us talk with the ship whenever we want?"
"N'much," the dwarf advised him. "Tash was gonna make some kinda drawin' or something on the bridge, but that's out the window now. Jaclyn's tryin' to train the ship as a psion, but it's tough... and the worst part, she's a'tellin' me, is that the ship can't never use the metta-bow-lick powers."
"Can't?" Tyfelian frowned.
"Can't," Barolcot reiterated. "Those powers can't be used by somethin' that ain't got no body. But the Elna should be able to use the other kinds o' powers, 'ventually."
"Welcome news," Tyfelian said grimly, then hurried off to the bridge.
Tyfelian found Kiran standing on the command platform. He took his seat beside Tyfelian's when the half-drow arrived.
"Still nothing, by our lookout, but Quatha Command reports that they've destroyed Gateway 272. That's the nearest one to us."
"Gods," Tyfelian murmured. "Kiran, if you know, how much better armed is Quatha compared to a Gateway? I know it's better, but how much?"
"Quatha has fifty times the weapons of a Gateway and there are about four hundred ships flying, I believe," the paladin said after a moment's thought. "I think we can hold up even against hundreds of dragons, but the damage will be bad, very bad."
Tyfelian took his seat, grimacing. Even as he did, Lygalliz's voice rose from the horn.
"Bridge, crow's nest, emergency," the hurwaet called.
"Here we go," Tyfelian spat, twisting the nut on the voice horn. "Bridge, Tyfelian."
"I've spotted the enemy," Lygalliz reported. "I see dragons... gods only know how many."
"Understood," Tyfelian replied. He then switched the voice horn to Shipwide. "Jaclyn, to my side on the bridge. All wizards to weapon bays. Cast defensive magic against dragon breath on my order, but not before."
He shut off the horn and spoke to the helm.
"Chalizon, move us into defensive posture with the other ships."
The Listraeean did. As the Elnamerrna got into position, Tyfelian roved the outeye about to see what arrangement the defenders would take.
Tyfelian estimated about two hundred aarakocra corbinas in all, and they formed a rough defensive sphere, double-layered. They settled into drifting orbits about three miles from the shipyard, and two hundred more mercenary ships complemented their movements, mirroring them, filling the holes.
"A good defense umbrella," Tyfelian commented.
"But... dragons..." Kiran pointed out hesitantly.
"We'll have to see what they can do against us," Tyfelian stated. "I have no experience with this kind of thing... dragons in space... it's almost unbelievable."
Kiran sat back in his seat, out of his depth. Nothing in his considerable experience, either, gave him any clues as to what to do, nor what to advise his leader to do. That forced them to play it by ear.
Jaclyn came onto the bridge then, breaking the tension for a moment with her entrance.
"Jaclyn, ready?" Tyfelian asked, and she stepped over to the helm, smiling confidently.
Despite Jaclyn's presence with her strong defensive abilities, Tyfelian felt the rising tension and fear. One did not need much experience with people to sense it. He thought that the crew could benefit from a joke, so he clicked the voice horn to Shipwide.
"All hands, Tyfelian... did anyone happen to pick up a dragonlance while we were on Krynn?"
Kiran started laughing, and so did Alzja. Tyfelian's sharp ears heard laughter outside the voice vents, so he knew that his joke had gone over well. He felt the growing dread recede a bit. His method of trying to calm his crew down had been a pathetic, crude one, nothing like what the powerful voice of Fing could have done, but it had worked.
"Bridge, upper weapon bay," Abt's voice came forth.
"Bridge, Tyfelian," the half-drow replied.
"I have a dragonlance, Tyfelian," the minotaur told him, to the leader's great surprise. "It was the last weapon I ever picked up there, before I left Krynn with Captain Alshmer."
Tyfelian hesitated only a second.
"Permission to leave your post, Abt. Go to your quarters and get it, quickly," he ordered the minotaur. "Keep it with you in the weapon bay."
He switched the horn to Shipwide again.
"All hands," Tyfelian said, letting his surprise and delight show in his voice. "Abt advises me that he does indeed have a dragonlance, against all odds! I've told him to get it and keep it with him at his post during the battle. It will be our charm."
Lygalliz called from the crow's nest, and Tyfelian answered.
"I see a triop rising to our port side from Quatha," the hurwaet reported. "I believe it's the Harbinger. It is, at least, flying the Dukagsh flag."
"Friend or foe?" Tyfelian wondered, raising his eyebrows with a glance at Kiran. "I advised Lady Kreeahlka to enlist Captain Wrackblood in her patrol fleet and she said she'd look into it, but she couldn't've had time to approach him yet."
"I heard that," Lygalliz noted. "Friend, I think. The Harbinger is taking up a posture complementing ours."
Tyfelian eased back into his seat, feeling more confident as he awaited the enemy.
They did not have to wait long, for only too soon, Lygalliz's voice came forth from the horn once more.
"Coming up on range," the hurwaet reported tensely.
"Jaclyn, now," Tyfelian ordered.
He twisted the voice horn.
"Wizards, now."
The Elnamerrna and the Harbinger whirled like a bladed boomerang into the dragon host. Dragon after dragon swooped in to the attack, but each one thought twice about it after the two ships unleashed their fury. The new triop class starships were not to be taken lightly—as the enemies of the Rada had learned soon after that race had built the first glassteel-hulled prototypes ten years earlier.
Now, the bizarre, incredible living naval force of dragons learned it the hard way. Any dragon that came near enough to either triop to be shot at got blasted out of the sky by sizzling magic or soaring heavy weapon missiles.
Lygalliz looked at the unfolding battle with astonishment.
From his excellent point of view in the crow's nest, he watched the enemy and called their locations, including warnings, down to the bridge. It got harder and harder for him to resist being mesmerized by the sheer display, though.
Hundreds of dragons of all colors blazed through the space near Quatha Vellar, scales gleaming, claws flashing, breath weapons flaring with abandon. The massed dragons flew through the void at incredible speed, and Lygalliz felt certain that their speed came not from their wings, but from their harnesses. Lygalliz didn't think that anything living, even a dragon, could fly that fast in space.
He peered at a nearby bronze dragon with his spyglass, and he swallowed his revulsion at the half-crazed, glassy look in its eyes as it attacked a mercenary squid ship.
The four hundred defending ships—half of them aarakocra corbinas, the other half an amazing variety of other types—fought back with their heavy weapons, magic spells, and rams.
Those dragons that broke through the shipyard's defense umbrella then had to contend with Quatha's own weapons and wizards, who opened fire in a dragon-dropping rampage of death. Catapult loads, ballista bolts, and attack spells flew upward and struck down dragons at an impressive rate.
Quatha Vellar's defensive technique called for the defense umbrella to keep as far as possible from the shipyard itself, for the ships' own protection. Lygalliz understood why, now. The Quatha Vellar gunners were crack shots, but occasionally they did miss. Those missed shots could have wrought havoc with the defending ships, but Lygalliz's lips turned up into his reptilian smile as he saw the strategy. The defense umbrella, and the ships in it, were too far away for missed shots to have much effect.
Unfortunately, this did not help anything regarding dead dragons. These fell to the "ground" on Quatha like killing hail.
Lygalliz grimaced with frustration as building after building on Quatha Vellar was crushed. The dragons died in the air before they could attack in most cases, but their mutilated bodies could still wreak immense destruction on impact. Equally bad, some of the defending ships had exactly the same effect when the dragons downed them. Lygalliz ground his teeth at the sight of a large bronze dragon falling onto a Quatha Vellar business district. He hoped that Kreeahlka had evacuated the common citizens into the huge, circular slab of magically created stone that both Quatha City and Quatha Shipyard had been built upon.
A streak of movement caught Lygalliz's eye, ripping his attention back to the battle just in time.
"Silver dragon ahead!" he hissed to the voice horn.
The hurwaet heard Tyfelian bark, "Turnabout, helm!"
The dockworkers on Quatha had done themselves proud—the aft spanker had been repaired. The Silver Triop turned completely around in moments, with not a quiver of hesitation, and a lightning bolt flared out her stinger bay. The silver dragon took the bolt and roared his rage, still coming, but the aft ballista and jettison scored their hits on him, and he died over fifty yards away from the ship.
Lygalliz did not feel the movement, not with the spelljammer helm keeping the ship's gravity steady, but from his point of view, all of creation seemed to spin around him a half turn. He watched with satisfaction as the silver dragon tumbled off to the side, his head and chest nearly unrecognizable from the battering, especially that from the Elnamerrna's stingers.
The Harbinger spun with the Elnamerrna in perfect harmony, maintaining the distance of two hundred yards almost constantly. The two vessels protected each other, slamming through the enemy formations and scattering them, destroying any that they got near enough to strike.
Lygalliz watched, greatly impressed, as the two vessels stayed "back to back," or the space battle equivalent thereof, and their firepower slammed the enemy dragons.
Like others before him, Lygalliz frowned with puzzlement at the lack of dragonfear. Dragons emanated an aura of terror, akin to certain magic spells, that unnerved most enemies. Lygalliz had fought dragons before and therefore he knew what dragonfear felt like, but he felt none—neither from the chromatic dragons nor from the metallic ones.
He put the thought aside to discuss with Tyfelian and Kiran later, and resumed his watch.
A massive brass dragon swooped toward the Silver Triop from the starboard side, but a well-aimed jettison load from the Harbinger struck it on the head, making it think twice. It turned away to look for less fiery prey.
Lygalliz started to track its movements, to perhaps call bearings on it to the gunners, but then a huge shift in the flow of the battle caught his attention.
"Bridge! They're retreating!" the hurwaet's voice cried through the voice horn.
Tyfelian watched with relief and, deep in his heart, smug satisfaction as the waves of dragons suddenly wheeled away from Quatha Vellar and soared toward deep space.
"Helm, steering crews, pursue!" he called.
Only too happy to obey—because he was now more infuriated than scared—Chalizon willed the Elnamerrna into a pursuit course. Faster than the others, the Silver Triop caught the trailing flights of fleeing dragons readily enough and the gunners opened fire on a green dragon. They belted it with catapult shot and ballista bolts until it died, then the Elnamerrna flew on in hot pursuit of the dragon host.
Inspired by the example, all of the aarakocra corbinas and some of the mercenary vessels joined the chase. The guardian ships overtook the fleeing force of dragons very rapidly and thus did a great slaughter begin.
Tyfelian watched with an odd feeling of liberation as his ship's weapons crushed an enemy. His heart seemed to escape the time loop it had been caught in, for it seemed that they would win this one.
A corbina, appropriately enough, claimed the last kill. Its weapons hammered a copper dragon into oblivion.
Cheers broke out from the weapon crews of the Elnamerrna, and Tyfelian and even Kiran couldn't help but share a look of triumph.
"Got 'em," Jaclyn murmured to them.
"Lygalliz?" Tyfelian called into the horn, still set for the crow's nest.
"Yes?"
"Flash the other ships," the half-drow ordered. "Call for volunteers to go along with us to Gateway 854 to rescue the Itreyans there. If they ask, the Gateway itself might be a total loss—I don't know."
The next twenty minutes saw eighty ships, by Lygalliz's count, glide into formation with the Silver Triop. The Harbinger flew with them.
Satisfied, Tyfelian gave the order.
"Alzja, take us to the nearest Gateway besides 272. 272 has been destroyed."
Alzja looked it up swiftly, then called cues to the helm.
Itreyan Gateway 854
Elnamerrna and a task force, arriving
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
The Silver Triop dashed through the Gateway. The other ships, including the Harbinger, came though right behind her, one after another, sails billowing.
The Elnamerrna turned about immediately and her weapons poured it on 854's courtyard. The high-powered attack spells blasted a swath of destruction in the tanar'ri milling about down there, and the large weapons brought down still more. Against fire-loving tanar'ri, fiery attack spells would not do; instead, the Silver Triop wizards rained destruction in the form of hails of sleet, exploding spheres of frost, and falling walls of ice.
"The ringleader might be gone already," Kiran commented as the courtyard began to empty of opposition. "We never saw him."
"Probably, but if he's still here, we need to find him," Tyfelian told the human. "Did you see him?" he asked Jalgrond.
"No," the bugbear replied slowly. "I know that he or someone charmed the commodore, but that's all."
"Alzja hit Plenxon with a dispel magic spell," Tyfelian reminded, "but maybe it worked and maybe it didn't. We won't know until we find him, too."
"Courtyard is clear, Tyfelian," Chalizon called from the helm.
"Rise, helm. The dragons are no doubt attacking the other ships by now."
The Elnamerrna gave ground to the Gateway and headed out to help the others fight the dragons left behind, but the reptilian defense umbrella of 854 turned out to be thin. Most of the dragons had been sent through to attack 272 and Quatha Vellar. By the time the Silver Triop reached the other friendly ships, no dragons remained to fight.
"Lygalliz, flash messages to the other ships to find places to land. Then each is to assemble a boarding party and we'll mass in the courtyard to clear the fortress."
"No," Tyfelian said to Alzja when the drow lady started to cast the Shrink Ship spell. "Lock her off instead. I hope that we're not gone long. I've already sealed off all entries except the lower weapon deck."
Alzja nodded once, then stepped under the weapon deck and called to one of the last crewmen filing out from there.
"Seal and secure the deck, Hargis."
Hargis raised his eyebrows, but turned back and did as he was told.
Alzja watched as the human opened what looked like a storage locker for ballista bolts—and indeed, some bolts stood stacked up in there—and pulled out a lever.
A metal sheet rose from the ship's floor and sealed off the stairway leading to the rest of the ship. Heavily painted steel, it made an effective barrier. Another sheet rose in the forward part of the weapon bay, right behind the ballista, blocking off all access.
The sheets moved very quietly, a testament to Barolcot's skill with gears and pulleys. Hargis saw them into their sealed positions, then climbed down the ladder—up, from his point of view—to the courtyard of 854.
Tyfelian and some of the others had already moved off, making room for the rest of the crew as they came out of the ship. Hargis listened distractedly as Alzja cast less reliable warding magic on the ship to keep intruders out of it, then he hurried at her side to catch up with the others.
Across the way, Captain Wrackblood watched the Silver Triop crew as his own soldiers got into formation. The two crews moved swiftly toward the outer gates, hopping over or circling around dead dragons and, closer to the gates, the wrecks of two ships that had been destroyed in the battle above.
Had an observer been watching from the battlements, even a hostile one, he or she would have looked upon the movements of the two crews curiously, for they moved toward the gates quickly but fairly quietly for armored combat warriors. In that way, they seemed similar, but where the Harbinger's scro hustled in military formation, the Elnamerrna crew accomplished the same movement across a littered battlefield in loose groups of three to five.
Tyfelian and Kiran noticed this but ignored it. They ran up against the courtyard's wall swiftly. Tyfelian glanced over at Wrackblood, then the half-drow and the scro peeked around the ruined main gate cautiously.
Seeing nothing but the ruined bailey, they stepped forward, glancing all about, then hurried to the main entryway, one hundred warriors in tow.
The door lay on the floor, amid every sign Tyfelian could think of hinting at a fierce fight. Bodies lay scattered everywhere, covered with blood, among many dropped, battered weapons. No traces of the invaders remained, but Tyfelian thought that normal, with outsiders. When killed, their bodies vaporized and they returned to their home plane of existence.
Tyfelian and Wrackblood, followed closely by Morkitar and Kiran, led the way through the castle's bloodstained corridors. Kiran glared uncomfortably at the scro commanders who, not so long before, he had tried several times to kill. He did not feel comfortable being allied with them, but he resigned himself to the necessity. He tried to place them in the category of "mercenary" in his thoughts, for, strategically speaking, the presence of fifty armored scro combat marines was clearly a great advantage.
They explored the entire castle but found no further resistance. Puzzled, the lot of them met in the ruins of the great dining hall.
"Jalaysa, get us reinforcements to occupy this place while we keep looking."
As the elf wizard vanished, Alzja chimed in with a comment.
"A whole lot of nothing," she said slowly. "Perhaps they fled..." She trailed off uncertainly.
"Not likely at all," Wrackblood returned. "They're here, somewhere, waiting for us."
"The roof," Tyfelian and Morkitar burst out in chorus.
"Yes," the half-drow said with a smile at the war-priest, which the scro didn't return. "The upper levels... the flying bridges and battlements."
Itreyan Gateway 854
Elnamerrna crew and Harbinger crew, investigating
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Agreed upon the point of where the enemy likely had to be, the scro captain and the half-drow adventurer waited for Jalaysa to return, then led their crewmen toward a tower access stairway that they'd discovered during their fruitless search of the premises, and presently they stood upon the crenellations of 854. The roof of the tower upon which they stood offered a great view of surrounding space and the crystal shell wall.
Glancing over the edge of the tower roof, Tyfelian could see the Elnamerrna and the Harbinger, and many of their allied ships in the courtyard below them.
"Main guard tower," he murmured, looking around with interest.
The tower's defensive screening wall, no different from any of a number of others that the Silver Triop crew had seen, sloped downward to flow seamlessly onto a flying bridge. The tower that they now stood upon was connected to several others by flying bridges. Unlike such bridges built between towers for castles on the ground, this space castle's bridges were arched to reflect the curvature of the artificial asteroid. Running parallel to the ground over a hundred feet below, the bridges looked safe despite battle damage.
"Dwarven work," Barolcot commented of them, and both Tyfelian and Wrackblood agreed.
Tyfelian stirred nervously, however.
"It's too tight up here," he said to all of them. "Could be a setup. Let's go over there to that larger tower."
They hurried over the bridge to their left to the larger tower. Tyfelian moved left, Wrackblood right, with their command crews, to supervise the remainder of the forces as they made transit.
This was where everything went wrong. Both crews would have been destroyed had not Tyfelian, Wrackblood, and especially Lygalliz been keeping a sharp lookout.
Derilia, the succubus, flew over the edge of the tower and swooped down upon the two crews. Out of the access stairway swarmed charmed Itreyans of many races, and out of nowhere, demons teleported onto the tower top without warning.
Demons. The three types that the two crews had expected—dretches, quasits, and vrocks—plus one.
"Goristro!" Lygalliz shouted, saving the lives of his own leader, Wrackblood, and possibly others, for the huge demon would certainly have torn at least one of them apart before they even saw it, without that warning cry.
Tyfelian whirled around, his hands and swords a blur of incredible speed; Wrackblood likewise spun and attacked with his fine-tuned battle reflexes. The goristro's massive hands met magically-enchanted adamantite and steel, causing its attacks to merely knock the half-drow and the scro captain to the floor, instead of tearing their heads off or ripping them limb from limb.
Kiran and Morkitar sprang into action, protecting their prone captains. Their swords ripped into the goristro, biting deep into the demon flesh. A furious flurry of magic missile spells ravaged the thing as well, but it resisted some of them and kept attacking.
Kiran both ducked and blocked with his shield as a murderous claw blazed down upon him. He returned the swing with a stab of his Holy Avenger, and the powerful sword razed the tanar'ri. Howling, it lowered its massive horned head and reached for Tyfelian and Wrackblood once more.
The two leaders had already started rolling out of the way. The goristro scored an ineffective hit on Wrackblood and missed Tyfelian entirely. In seconds, they stood up and waded into battle, kicking and hilt-punching the lesser demons that got in their way.
A vrock flanking Tyfelian blasted him with a spray of spores. The horrible spores sprouted fungus growths all over the half-drow's body. The Abyss-spawned fungi burst from his skin, causing him to bleed. This wrenched moans of agony from him, but he kept up his attacks on the goristro.
Lygalliz and the other five Red Hurwaeti swarmed the vrock and killed it, but Tyfelian's problems were only beginning. The mushrooms growing on him inhibited his movement, making him more vulnerable and impairing his ability to attack.
Hargis pressed the flat of his blade on Tyfelian's arm, pressing the leader back. Then Hargis and the three swashbucklers took his place at the front line, battling the goristro.
Kiran likewise fell back, but he had no intention of retreating. Amid the whirring buzzes of arrows and the crackling of magic, he grabbed a vial from his belt pouch, pulled its cork, and doused Tyfelian with its contents.
The fungus growth withered and died, but it had hurt Tyfelian badly and he looked unable to fight. Kiran swiftly cast a healing spell upon the half-drow, but its effects looked minor. He needed Alzja's help, and the drow cleric was deep in her combat spellcasting.
Tyfelian moved toward her anyway, but he expected no healing for some time—not from Alzja. How he missed Fing and Melanerra!
Kiran, not satisfied, glared at the drow lady.
"Alzja!" the paladin shouted. "Heal him, now!"
Alzja made no response. Undoubtedly, she would later claim that she had not been able to hear the First Officer's command over the din of battle, but Kiran didn't believe it. The stubborn Alzja was more intent upon destroying the enemy than with concern for her allies—as usual.
Frustrated, Kiran rejoined the battle with the goristro vigorously. He tore into the mammoth thing with the Holy Sword of Vesgar, hurting it. He realized to his chagrin that he had to bring the goristro down by himself, with perhaps some help from Alzja's spells. No crewmen could get to him to help him.
He swung his shield wildly, trying to block the attacks of the smaller demons swarming all around him. He moved constantly to keep the goristro in front of him so he could attack it and defend against its claws. His holy sword jabbed it over and over, but the thing took it. He finally scored a telling blow, his blade punching through the heavy hide to make a huge wound from the beast's right shoulder down to the right side of its belly.
Alzja somehow got in behind him and her hand arced around his right arm—his shield arm—to sneak in a spell attack. The goristro roared with anguish when a small, vicious ball of acid appeared on its right shoulder, just where Kiran had cut.
Kiran braced his holy sword at the right moment, and the goristro fell on it. The paladin had underestimated the weight of the monster, however, for in the process of allowing it to fall on his sword, it bowled him right over onto his back. Fortunately for him, the creature had pushed him back as well as down, so it had not landed on him, and it was dead.
Alzja swiped a cut at a dretch that had come too close, with the intent of clawing Kiran. It ran off, allowing Alzja a moment to help Kiran stand. The paladin regained his feet, but the had no time to look for more targets—plenty more came to them. The main host of tanar'ri swarmed all around them, and Kiran found himself heavily pressed, for some of the charmed Itreyan warriors joined them at that spot. Kiran recognized Commodore Plenxon and parried a sword attack from him.
Plenxon hammered at Kiran's defense, which was hampered by the fact that he was surrounded. The tanar'ri had pushed the Elnamerrna and Harbinger crewmen around by sheer numbers. They found that they could not fight back to back, as Kiran had trained them to do, not in the vast mob of charmed warriors and demons.
Kiran struck and killed a dretch. That act freed him up for a few seconds—in the press of battle, Plenxon had been forced too far away—and he hazarded a look around at the overall battle.
The demons had teleported into position all over the rooftop and on all three of its connecting bridges, as well. The lesser tanar'ri who could not reach the invaders kept casting relatively ineffective spells against the two crews, but their ranks dwindled rapidly as Jalaysa and the Listraeean wizards blasted them with icy attack magic.
Closer in, the Silver Triop company and the scro warriors of the Harbinger killed tanar'ri at a fantastic rate, but more appeared at irregular intervals. Kiran realized that all of the tanar'ri not engaged in direct battle were alternating attack spells with their fearsome ability to summon more of their own kind from the Abyss. His expression went grim as he avoided Plenxon, then reached Derilia and attacked her. He avoided looking her in the eye, hoping that this would help him resist if she tried to charm him, but it wasn't necessary. The evil succubus didn't waste her energy trying to charm Kiran—someone she recognized as a holy knight of some kingdom whose name she didn't know. Instead, she flapped her wings to keep flitting out of reach of his deadly sword, and kept darting in close.
Kiran was puzzled for a moment by her tactics, but then he remembered his education about fiends. Succubi had the ability to suck the life from one's soul with their kisses, and she was trying to kiss the Embimuran.
Her lips kissed hard steel on her third pass, though, as Wrackblood charged into their little fight and slashed Derilia right across her mouth. Hurt and startled, she flew away, but one or another of the Silver Triop wizards blasted her with an ice storm spell. This damaged her wings beyond the critical limit to support flight, and she fell.
Wrackblood and Morkitar went right after her. Kiran caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and raised his shield just in time to block a thrust from Plenxon.
A quasit came up to them and attacked, pulling on Kiran's sword arm—his right arm. Plenxon pressed the advantage, and his sword came up toward Kiran's heart through an opening in the knight's defense. Well-aimed, it hit squarely, but for some reason, Plenxon did not follow through with the strike. He did not apply the strength needed to drive the sword point through Kiran's armor.
Kiran felt the attack and expected death or serious injury, but Plenxon scraped the blade down his armor, scratching Kiran's coat of arms but otherwise not hurting him.
Confused but not willing to question good fortune, Kiran slammed his sword against Plenxon's and they fought back and forth, but with careful, measured attacks, almost as though practicing. The commodore shot Kiran a wink during the early moments of the mock battle.
Kiran then understood. The antimagic spell cast by Alzja during their earlier visit had worked, so they had an ally in the enemy ranks.
Seeing their leader locked in battle with a knight, Itreyans gathered around them to help him attack Kiran—just as Plenxon had planned. When the Itreyan mob had encircled the Embimuran, Plenxon suddenly swiveled on his feet and struck out to his right with the hilt of his sword, and to the left with his shield. Then he turned completely around to fight back to back with Kiran. His expression went deep into sadness as he did it—he expected to be forced to kill his own troops—and he clearly hated it.
He got something of a shock a couple moments after his first swings at his people, though.
Kiran likewise put his back to the Itreyan commodore, but not to attack. Instead, he raised his shield to go on the defensive. Using it to protect him, he raised the Holy Avenger high.
"Taronin!" he cried to the paladin leader of the Embimuran gods. "Drive away the evil charm upon these goodly soldiers!"
The Holy Sword of Vesgar flared with a golden, holy light.
The attacking Itreyans in a wide radius suddenly stumbled and a few of them even fell to their knees. With their minds disoriented and lost, their skilled attack movements disintegrated into chaos as the demonic charm was dispelled. Every last one of them stopped in their tracks or fell over as they broke free of the spell.
Disregarding them, Kiran waved Plenxon into stride with him and they hurried back to where the two crews still battled a host of tanar'ri.
Alzja had apparently gotten around to healing Tyfelian, for he found his leader, Jalgrond, Sildara, Menlina, and a large group of the Elnamerrna crew smashing through the massed tanar'ri. They slashed and belted the evil ones, accepting hit after hit but sending back to the Abyss at least four or five monsters for every wound they suffered.
Kiran and Plenxon wheeled around to the flank of the enemy host. They drove in from the other direction, and the ranks of the outsiders dwindled from two directions.
An arrow fired from some crewman took down the last of them before Kiran could reach it. He turned around quickly, mindful that Wrackblood and Morkitar were on the other side of the rooftop tangling with a succubus and worried that she might have charmed them.
Nothing doing. He finished his turn to see the two scro striding across the roof toward him, with a fading mist of black vapors behind them.
"No chance to cut off her head and carry it as a trophy," Wrackblood noted. "Outsiders!" he spat.
Kiran's lips firmed into a line at that comment, and he shook his head at the scro captain's idea of a trophy, but he simply turned away to regard Tyfelian.
"With Taronin's help, we have won the day, I believe," the paladin said to him.
"Spread the crews out," Tyfelian replied to him and to Wrackblood, "to keep watch. There might still be more stragglers."
He addressed Plenxon. "Some of the crews of the other ships that accompanied us here are holding the fortress below. Tell your men to go to them and relieve them, sending them back to their ships."
Plenxon stepped over to Jalgrond to delegate that task, and Jalgrond hurried down the ladder leading down from the tower.
"We'll have to search the whole place thoroughly to clear it, but I think we have enough manpower and then some," he said to Kiran.
The half-drow started to turn, to face Wrackblood to talk with him about the search operation, and also, briefly, about working for Lady Mayor Kreeahlka, but his earlier words had hardly left his mouth before a fireball exploded all around them, centered squarely upon Tyfelian, Kiran, Wrackblood, and Morkitar but searing many more.
Itreyan Gateway 854
Elnamerrna crew and Harbinger crew, under attack
Firstsummer 12th, 2461
Tyfelian gritted away the rippling pain of the flames that the Dridercomp didn't manage to block, then he whirled around to face a vision out of a trick mirror.
A triop-class starship painted silver hovered nearby, its cargo bay near but not touching the flying bridge across the way. People jumped across the gap onto the bridge and came running to attack the crews of the Elnamerrna and the Harbinger, every last one of them running all-out to engage in battle.
This behavior, while smacking of berserker tactics, didn't seem too unusual to Tyfelian. What did take him aback was what the new enemies looked like.
The lead warrior was a half-drow, like Tyfelian. Beside and slightly behind that strange sight, a black-armored knight ran in step. With them were counterparts to the entire Elnamerrna crew—Tyfelian and Kiran even spotted exactly six hurwaet, a scro, an ogre, a grommam, a half-orc, a hobgoblin, a halfling, and a minotaur!
The resemblance to the crew of the Silver Triop, though imperfect, was so overwhelming that all fifty of them stared aghast and only just brought their weapons to bear in time.
Tyfelian spared a glance at the intruder vessel. The enemy ship itself just floated there, but it demanded attention for a few seconds, for it was certainly a good match for the Elnamerrna in appearance. Its color appeared identical, and the runic inscriptions on its outer hull looked very much like those of the Silver Triop. It even bore the same name!
Tyfelian stared at it for a couple seconds, marveling. Then, he raised his blades and closed with his double.
Half-drow eyes locked upon half-drow eyes, then their blades slammed together again and again, the ringing turning into a deafening bang as the battle grew heated. The strange half-drow fought with a bizarre style, which Tyfelian didn't recognize—though he had fought aggressive barbarians who were less fearless! Even worse, this enemy moved with a precision that could only be possible with magic.
Tyfelian's double showed little regard for defense and came on hard with everything he could put into the attack. Tyfelian ducked, hopped, and parried, then his left sword slashed out, tearing through clothing and armor on the enemy's right shoulder.
The double grunted with the pain but didn't let up his attack for a moment. He tried to drive Tyfelian's swords out wide so he could sink both of his own into Tyfelian's belly or chest, but Tyfelian would have none of that. He scored another painful hit on the enemy's leg, but then he took two slashes himself, one on the right calf, the other on the left shoulder.
Ignoring the wounds, Tyfelian whirled in a circle at blinding speed to deliver a power-kick to the enemy, intending to land it on the chest. Hajri had taught him this martial arts attack.
His double reacted faster. Moving with inhuman speed, he stabbed Tyfelian in the back with both blades before he finished his spin, then, still lightning-fast, he rammed his elbow into the back of Tyfelian's head, dropping the Elnamerrna leader where he stood.
The victorious double stepped right up to Tyfelian and raised his swords to finish the job, but his killing strike got blocked. Adamantite rang on a big sword and two long daggers, all fine steel, and the downward stabs slid wide.
Tyfelian's double looked up to see a big, imposing scro.
"Who in the Abyss are you?" he barked. The double's voice was vaguely similar to Tyfelian's, but rougher, raspier—and by force of habit, a great deal louder.
"My name is Captain Pelias Wrackblood of the Imperial Warship Harbinger, and yours is about to become Catapult Fodder," Wrackblood answered calmly.
The scro captain stood too close to the stranger to stab or slash, so he took a swing with the back of his fist, which sat snugly in the hand guard of his sword.
The enemy half-drow reacted fast, ducking under the coming strike with incredible speed, but Wrackblood was too good for that to work. He had never fought an opponent who could move that fast, but he had been trained to compensate. Wrackblood anticipated the movement and successfully belted the enemy half-drow right in the face, by bending over at just the right moment.
Such a hit from the likes of Captain Wrackblood could not be taken lightly—the punch sent Tyfelian's attacker flying clear across the tower roof and onto the flying bridge on the other side. Wrackblood's victim certainly felt like a load of catapult shot after that slug! There was no guardrail to speak of; it had been destroyed in the earlier attacks.
Arms pin-wheeling wildly to stop the dangerous slide, the enemy half-drow grabbed the lip of the bridge barely in time—his fingertip grip on the bridge was his grip on his very life—for, if he should fall, it was a hundred feet down to the courtyard. His fingers clenched spasmodically, since he had enough presence of mind left to realize his situation. However, with starbursts exploding in front of his eyes, he could not focus well enough to drag himself onto the bridge.
Wrackblood ignored him and fished in Tyfelian's belt pouch for a healing potion. When he found one, he squeezed Tyfelian's nose and force-fed the potion to the Elnamerrna leader. He could see easily enough that his old enemy was bleeding to death from deep wounds in his back.
Tyfelian coughed, then eagerly drank the entire potion. Feeling stronger as Wrackblood hoisted him to his feet, he looked at the scro captain curiously.
"Why did you do that?"
"That pathetic clod over there isn't allowed to kill you while I'm around, you idiot," Wrackblood said to him. "That privilege is reserved for me, the next time we have a disagreement."
"Very well," Tyfelian laughed, then he ran off to see how the others were doing against their opposite numbers.
He saw what he'd expected—devastating attacks from the strange, only-too-similar enemy crew, promptly stopped and blocked by the skills of his own crew, with help from the Harbinger crew.
The enemy wizards worried him, though. He saw the equivalents of Alzja and Jalaysa—two elven wizards, not drow but definitely elves—firing attack spells upon the crews. Likewise, Jaclyn's opposite appeared to be locked in a telepathic battle with the Elnamerrna defense officer.
Tyfelian ran over to them to help them, and their morale—already weakened by the near-death of their captain—faltered, then broke altogether as he approached. They fell back toward their own starship, which hovered near the bridge on the other side of the roof still. Some wizard in the upper weapon deck of the phony Elnamerrna cast a large wall of fire spell to block pursuit, and the enemy crew ran full-tilt back to their vessel.
Two of them, showing a loyalty unusual for an evil group, paused as they passed Tyfelian's double. These two grabbed their captain's hands and pulled him up from the edge of the bridge just as his grip slipped.
"Wizards, attack!" Tyfelian roared, and he unshouldered his bow to shoot, just as the first inaccurate ballista shots began to rain down upon the bridge and the roof of the tower.
With no need to be told to do so, the Silver Triop crew followed suit and unshouldered their missile weapons. They managed a few ineffective shots at the fleeing enemies, but Tyfelian stopped them.
"No!" he shouted. "Attack the ship itself!"
All of them knew better than to shoot the hull—bringing down a ship with hand-held bows and other missile weapons would have taken hours to accomplish—so they instead shot at the enemy vessel's weapons. No crewmen appeared to be operating the catapults or ballistas in there, but the Elnamerrna crew knew about the unseen weapon crew spell. Their own wizards knew that spell, too, though they had rarely used it.
The Silver Triop crew easily dodged the poorly aimed attacks of the enemy ship's weapons, so they hammered the heavy weapons facing them until the shots stopped altogether. Fireballs, lightning blasts, and disintegration spells hit the enemy vessel, seeming like a single explosion of concussive force.
The last of the fleeing evil crew leaped on board, and the fake Elnamerrna started moving away almost immediately.
"Continue!" Tyfelian yelled. "Bring them down!"
The crews of both the Elnamerrna and the Harbinger tried to bring the phony Silver Triop to the ground, but they could not. Standing on the ground, they did not have any large, ship-killer weapons, and the heavy defenses of 854 had been destroyed earlier. Though they hammered its hull with attack spells and weapon shots, it glided into space and flew away, escaping into the endless night of Hearthspace with its portside battered and rigging aflame.
"Damn," muttered Tyfelian as the bogus ship made good its escape.
"Friends of yours?" Wrackblood grated sternly, glaring at the enemy vessel's stern as it ran.
Tyfelian uttered a ghost of a laugh, and then said, "No. I suspect that our Abyssal Lord stalker just made a try at soiling my ship's good name."
"Your what?"
"We ran afoul of an Abyssal Lord on our way home," the half-drow explained. "I believe that he's trying to get us all killed, but I don't know why."
"You should go to his home in the Abyss and destroy him," Wrackblood said, in all seriousness.
Tyfelian didn't answer that immediately, not even sure that he'd heard right. Then he laughed.
"Go into the Abyss voluntarily? That would be insane."
"Yes, but it would fit quite well with my observations of your typical behavior," Wrackblood replied.
Unable to refute that, Tyfelian returned to the subject.
"Anyway, whoever he is, he's the one behind the attack here and at Quatha. We don't know who he is, yet, but we're going to find out."
Wrackblood fell silent, wondering, but then they turned their attention to the survivors of 854. Plenxon had roused them from their confused, stupefied state, and then he had gotten them moving on the cleanup efforts.
Satisfied, Tyfelian set his own crew to the task of examining the remainder of the Gateway fortress. They found nothing of interest, so he and Wrackblood called upon their crews to return to the Elnamerrna and Harbinger.
The two crews had almost entirely gone back into their ships when Plenxon and Jalgrond snagged the two captains of the rescuing division.
"Thank you again for rescuing me, and then coming back here to liberate 854," Jalgrond said to Tyfelian. "And thank you for your timely and considerable help, Captain Wrackblood," he added smoothly to the scro captain. He didn't want to make it sound like an afterthought.
It in fact did not sound like an afterthought, but the bugbear looked as though he couldn't quite believe he was saying such words to the famous scro.
Tyfelian nodded with a smile. Wrackblood bowed slightly and replied formally, "You're welcome."
Plenxon reached for Tyfelian's hand and shook it warmly, then likewise reached for Wrackblood's hand.
Wrackblood looked curious about this—clearly no one had ever shaken his hand before—but he returned the handshake.
"If either of you happen to come my way again, you may pass my Gateway at no charge up to four times in a month," he told them. "That is the most generous long-term offer I'm allowed to give."
Tyfelian and Wrackblood exchanged laughs. Plenxon thought for a moment—just a moment—that the two of them could perhaps become friends.
Then he quietly dismissed the notion.
"If that's what you're allowed to do, then that's what you're allowed to do," Tyfelian replied, responding to the offer of free trips through 854's Gateway. "I appreciate it."
Wrackblood gave a formal nod to Plenxon, then turned away to walk toward his own ship.
"I was thinking, a moment ago, that you two might forge a friendship out of all this," the commodore said to Tyfelian, "but it seems so unlikely. It's common knowledge that you two have a history, and a hostile one at that."
"That is so," Tyfelian replied, "but Wrackblood is honorable enough, in his own strange way. Still, he is evil. I'd like to destroy him, but I tried, nine times, during the War, and I couldn't. I've asked him to consider an upcoming offer from Lady Kreeahlka to work as part of her patrol fleet. He told me he'd think about it. I'm glad, too. It'll contain his malevolence and make him useful to someone on the right side of good and evil."
"Do you think he'll do that?"
"He might, at least for a while," Tyfelian said with some degree of confidence. "He doesn't have much else to do with his life, not anymore."
"He seems to want to settle a personal score with you, in particular," Plenxon noted.
"Yes," the half-drow replied. "That would be the witchlight key I got from Shadowspace, before he could get his hands on it. It helped the elves win the War. I'm sure he's plenty sore about it."
"But he does not come after you, because it'd be pointless?" Plenxon surmised.
"Yes, I believe that's right," Tyfelian confirmed. "With his own civilization destroyed, killing me would accomplish nothing. There's no one left on Dukagsh who'd reward him five thousand golds."
Plenxon frowned, though the ghost of a smirk showed on his lips.
"The ruler of Dukagsh put a bounty out on you?"
"Yes, that's the price that the Supreme Almighty Leader put on my head during the War, after Shadowspace. One hundred thousand golds on the Elnamerrna, for proof of destruction, one thousand per head of a crewman, five thousand per head of one from the command crew. We were rather proud of that."
Plenxon laughed, though in truth he felt impressed.
"Good luck and the safest travels to you, Tyfelian."
Tyfelian took Plenxon's wrist in a warrior's grip, then, as Wrackblood had done before him, he turned away to return to the Elnamerrna, without looking back to the commodore.
Mazarixopellin flew through the portal in the crystal shell, hurt and defeated. He did not like the idea of going back to Vinespace to report, but he would be considered a deserter if he did not, and The Master would send agents forth to hunt him down and destroy him.
The great red dragon considered doing so anyway, not certain that his fate would be any better even if he did make his report.
Eventually, though, Mazar decided to follow through and see if he could redeem himself in The Master's eyes. He wondered whether a few stragglers might have escaped—it would look better if he could bring some dragons back—but he had not linked up with any. Resigned, he leaped into the flowriver leading to Vinespace.
Yalthra'teyka, 474th layer of the Abyss
Braskrakel, the Lordcity
Firstsummer 13th, 2461 EY
The Master went to the planar gate at the appropriate time, but Mazarixopellin failed to appear.
"Incompetent lout," he muttered. He thought for a moment, then shouted, "Dretch!"
"Master?" the creature replied, hurrying to his master's side.
"Go to Vinespace and wait for Mazarixopellin to return. When he does, tell him to come here. I want to take his report in person."
Dretch bowed.
"Yes, Master."
The smaller creature waddled through the portal and vanished.
The Master teleported back to his throne room, muttering curses on the red wyrm. As he took his seat, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Tyfelian, you had better not have anything to do with this, or I'll damn well kill you no matter what I have to do," he snarled softly.
Then he lapsed into deep thought, savoring his evil daydreams of destruction as a human peasant might savor the thought of an easy and happy life. His thought that his ambitions might go farther, in due time, but for the moment, all of his lightless heart yearned only for Hearthspace to burn to ash.
