Hold the Line! – Sheryl, the Fae-Touched – 30.06.2020
Jul 5, 2020 1:23:36 GMT
Varis/G'Lorth/Sundilar, BB, and 5 more like this
Post by Queen Merla, the Sun-Blessed on Jul 5, 2020 1:23:36 GMT
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The Rift War
Part I | Part II | Part III
The Rift War
Part I | Part II | Part III
“The Sundered Chains. This is the optimal ground for us to challenge Zariel’s forces, to draw her out, keep her attention on us, in the hopes that the others succeed,” General Cassius explains to all the commanders gathered inside the tent. Commander Cordelia Jadefist of Daring’s First Defenders is nodding along whilst Chloris Skysplitter, the Errant Guard’s de facto leader, has a grim look on her minotaur face. The fey Arvel Morningdew has a quirk to his lips that makes Sheryl think he finds the plans amusing if a little simple, whilst Red, leader of the cavalry of the Order of the Crimson Fist takes it all in, her face unreadable.
“We have prepared ground,” the general continues. “We’ve managed to put up a few defences and High Command has sent us a surprise…”
General Razorback’s deep voice starts to fade away as the steady sound of a beating drum builds in the fae-bard’s ears. Sheryl feels herself withdraw from the plans being discussed, falling into herself. The banging of her heart in her chest is loud, strong, but she doesn’t know if it’s from fear of what’s to come or something else.
“And how will we know when we are to retreat?” BB’s soft voice silences the drumming like a conductor would an orchestra. There’s a weighted pause as everyone looks at each other.
“That’s exactly what I’ve been asking,” Chloris mutters, eyeing the general in a way that suggests this discussion has been had before.
The General sighs heavily, leaning onto the table with all of its maps.
“We knew when we came here that it may well be a one-way trip. I’m assuming there will be some kind of clear indication that what the others are doing, taking out the generator, will have worked…” He looks at BB and Sheryl sees just how grim the situation really is, even before he speaks. “But we cannot afford to fall back. We either make our stand here, fulfilling our role as a distraction, or we will die here, in order to buy K’ul Goran a little more time.”
“Though I appreciate your commitment to the cause General,” Arvel starts, a slight sneer to his face, “I will not sacrifice my men for your mortal cause. Queen Titania’s orders were that we are to assist in any way we can, but if things do become that dire the Glorious Company will extract themselves from Avernus, taking Lady Merla with us.” He turns his handsome gaze towards her with a nod.
The drumming starts again.
“Commander Arvel.” Sheryl says his name and her voice is not her usual soft tonal one. There’s an edge to it, reminiscent of the Summer Queen’s. “Ideally, if there is a way to get everyone out of here, then you must do it.” Her eyes flash as she looks at him. “Everyone who survives today deserves the chance to live for another, to see tomorrow.”
He seems to pull back a little.
“Of course, my lady. But I can tell you, from my centuries of experience in warfare the ideal situation is one that rarely comes by.” Arvel inclines his head, but to Sheryl it feels like he is mocking her.
She swallows the words she was about to say as General Razorback picks up the conversation again.
“We hold an advanced position…”
His words are drowned out by the sounds of incessant beating getting louder and louder within her. A part of Sheryl still registers the words he is saying, about the advantages they will try to give her and her friends. But she cannot seem to make the drums go away, and it worries her. What if she cannot hear one of her friends when they need help? What if one of them dies and they have to leave them behind? What if-
A sudden rushing sensation, like cool water, washes over her from the crown of her head, cascading down all the way to the heels of her feet. She takes the first easy breath since returning from fighting the Vanguard and suddenly she knows what she must do.
“Prepare whatever you need to,” the General concludes, looking at them all. “Make your way to the Sundered Chains when you are ready. This is it. We will protect our homelands from this infernal invasion, or we will die trying.”
His words are met with a few silent nods from the commanders. But Sheryl doesn’t look at them, she looks at her friends with a new light in her eyes.
“We’ve made it this far,” she says, locking eyes with each of them. “We just need to push a little further.”
Avernus is a bleak landscape, the ground itself burning under their boots. A volcano far off in the distance is erupting, making the ash come down thicker than before. There is no real night or day on this Plane, just a perpetual ashen twilight.
BB is seen weaving between her friends, handing each person roses with stems sharpened to dagger points. Sheryl smiles as she accepts her friend’s gift, tucking them into the left side of her fey-crafted leather armour over her heart. In the distance, she sees the massive chains that have been coiled up and broken apart. Their positioning forms a hard border for the battle that is about to take place.
“It is well prepared,” Astra says to her, following her gaze. “We will not be out flanked.”
Sheryl’s features are sharp-cut crystal. “It also means Zariel’s army will be funnelled directly at us.”
Astra looks down at her at the same time Sheryl looks up.
“It is time.”
Astra bends a knee and Sheryl gracefully swoops herself up onto her back. The winged unicorn stands and azure blue eyes can see all those doing last minute preparations – swords are being sharpened, crossbows being readied, soft prayers whispered to far away gods, chanting in Sylvan a fey battle hymn, straps being check on horses’ saddles. The imperial topaz gem in her circlet is bright as a small sun in the ashen gloom as Sheryl loudly strums a commanding chord on her harp, amplifying it with her innate magic. It does the trick and the soldiers turn to look at her.
“Mighty warriors of K’ul Goran, of Kantas, and of the Summer Lands! My Kith and Kin.
“Do not let fear touch you. Fear is the torrent, the raging river. To fight it is to break and drown. Stand astride it. See it, feel it, and use its course. We are all here for one purpose, through a unity – a fellowship – that binds us all together this day as we charge once more unto the breach.
“This day we Hold the Line.
“Zariel’s army is legions vast. The Archduchess believes her cause is Just, pre-ordained to succeed.
“It is not in the stars to hold our Destiny but in ourselves.
“Stiffen your sinews, summon up the blood, disguise your fairer natures with hard-favoured rage, hold hard your breath and bend up every spirit to its full height! All of us are proving to the very gods that we have the power to change Fate.
“By all that you hold dear, follow your spirit, ride the torrent of your fears, and upon this charge let us HOLD THE LINE!”
The cheer that erupts from all – mortal and fey alike – is unlike any music she has heard before. She feels the bonds between them all, from the army in front of her, to her friends, to the group infiltrating the tower, to the bravest of all facing the Archduchess herself – woven through their shared purpose, tying their fates together in a beautiful symphony – and it is powerful. In this moment, she feels she is more than Sheryl, the Fae-Touched, bard of the Feywild, more than Lady Merla of the Summer Court…
“So… Sheryl.”
The familiar voice brings her back to where she is as she looks down to see her best friend.
“Remember that key I sent you before?” Arkadius asks.
“I do,” she replies.
“I don’t remember telling you what it was for…” He trails off, unconsciously opening his wings a little as he shifts from one foot to another. “Underneath my bed, in FfirstMail, there’s a chest. In the chest is my Will and gold. Enough to resurrect me, or put on a grand funeral. Your choice.” Sheryl raises an eyebrow as her lips quirk into a half smile. “And if I am dead? Well, congratulations. You and Matthew both own FfirstGroup.” His smile as he looks up at her is sad and she hears the drums rise to a crescendo within her once more.
“That won’t happen,” Sheryl says, her voice firm. “You will see tomorrow.”
He merely nods, the smile entirely gone.
“Arkadius…” she starts, considering her words carefully. She briefly looks over at Arvel on her left before looking back to the tiefling. “If something were to happen to me, then… I have put my trust in both you and Markas. Like you, I have made contingency plans, should the worse happen.”
He looks like he is about to say something, but Sherly rests a hand on his shoulder. Holding his gaze with her own, she gives him a gentle squeeze and it’s like a ray of sunshine is painted across her face when she smiles at him.
Courage, dear friend. We have to carry the hope within us.
He tentatively smiles back and she thinks he got the intent of what she wished to convey.
A new rumbling catches her attention and she turns, feeling the drums within rising to meet it, catching this rhythm. The steadily increasing stomping of thousands upon thousands of feet marching towards them is unmistakable and just like that, there is no time left. Arkaidus takes to the sky as Astra begins to move forward, Markas and Taz falling in on either side of her, with BB and Igraine behind, and the rest of the army arrayed at their backs.
“Be safe. Be brave. Be strong. But please come back with me alive.”
She doesn’t respond with words, just a feeling, to Arkadius’ message. Sheryl’s smile is a pure and harsh unrelenting desert sun as she draws her rapier and Astra unfolds her wings, gathering speed. The drumming of her heart reverberates through her body, down to the very tips of her fingers, making her hum with a song that she has never felt before as she sees, in the distance, over the ridge comes the first wave of Zariel’s soldiers.
Astra leaps up and Sheryl cries out, a call to bring swiftness to their wings and haste to their feet, as the final charge begins.
“EVERYONE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!”
Arkadius’ booming voice cuts across the battlefield, breaking through the drumming noise inside her head. Sheryl turns and sees most of the army has retreated. It’s just the fae-bard, her friends and the cavalry from the Order of the Crimson Fist.
“Are we retreating? Why are-”
“Merla look out!”
Astra shouts the warning through their bond at the same time she whinnies out loud, barrel rolling out of the way from the Horned Devil which had tried to knock her mistress from her back.
“Come, we must leave. Even the Glorious Company are-”
“Wait!” Sheryl commands and Astra has to obey. The fae-bard sees Red and her men lining up whilst everyone else is falling back. The drumming noise within her falls silent.
No.
She tells Astra to fly down to them.
Not this.
Eyes of piercing green in a face with a crescent moon scar flashes through her mind and her heart constricts at what’s unfolding in front of her. Not needing to be told, Astra makes her way over to where the dwarven woman and her mount are preparing for their final charge.
“I can’t ask you to do this, Gretcha.”
It was the first time she had used Red’s True Name and in that moment she realised how she may look – a fairytale princess, merely playing at war, trying to talk down the battle hardened soldier from her duty. But it was more than that. There had to be a way to get everyone out, she would be able to figure it out, everyone would be able to come home if–
“You don’t have to, sunshine. That’s why I’m a soldier, an’ you’re… whatever you are. Besides, I’ve already spoken to your flyboy. It’s decided.”
Arkadius?
“I appreciate the sentiment, girl, but this is what we do,” Gretcha says, her gruff voice soft. “Go on now. Get your people to safety.”
Sheryl hesitates for a beat, a breath, a moment. What could say that would change Gretcha’s mind? Make her realise they all could get out?
That’s the rub. There is nothing I can say that would make Gretcha change her mind and I should not try to. Someone has to stay behind so the rest can live to see tomorrow, there are just too many in Zariel's army. This is where their song will end. I will be the one to carry these final moments with me to those who need to hear it. This is my final part in this story.
Gretcha’s gauntleted hand shoos her off and Sheryl knows the moment has passed. Astra does not need to be told twice – BB’s Storm Sphere is holding back the devil army for now but any second they will be able to push through, the magic spent, and they will give no quarter.
And neither will Gretcha.
Sheryl can see the portal in the distance, her friends dashing towards it as Astra rises up into the ashen sky. It should be harder to see the soldiers of the Crimson Fist, but for some reason she can still see them all clearly with Gretcha in front. They are a beacon to Sheryl as she retreats, the last light against the darkness that is pushing forward, threatening, ready to snuff them out.
From the depths of her very soul, feeling the gem in her circlet burn with Summer’s warmth as hot, glistening tears start streaming down her cheeks, Sheryl calls out, clear and calm. Her voice echoes out across the field of Sundered Chains, washing over the Order’s line as it begins its charge. Gretcha turns and Sheryl locks eyes with the dwarven woman one final time. There is a nod, which is returned in kind, and then Astra is soaring away, carrying her towards the flickering portal.
She cannot look away. Sheryl sees the wall of horse and steel crash into the line of devils. The fiends scream as lances pierce their infernal flesh, getting driven back and for the briefest of moments the fae-bard thinks the cavalry will succeed in driving back the tide of darkness. But every wave breaks and all too soon the charge slows.
“Lady Merla!” Arvel shouts up to her from below. “Quickly, the portal is unstable, we must depart, now!”
Seeing how far she has fallen behind her friends, the urgency of their retreat jolts through her like lightning. She waves to the fey commander and he proceeds to dash towards the flickering portal, throwing a glance up at her to make sure she is focused on retreating with them.
“Faster Astra!” Sheryl encourages her friend as the tears continue to stream down her face and her heart twists into knots at the choices that have been made. “Be one with the wind!”
Sheryl takes one last, blurry glance back and sees a Horned Devil raising its weapon to strike one of the soldiers from his horse. Blinking away the tears, she focuses on the fiend and an explosion of psychic energy radiates out from behind him, catching him so perfectly and unexpectedly he clutches his head. The devil succumbing to the effects of the spell, allowing the Order members around him to impale the winged fiend on their lances.
Astra keeps flying ever faster, her friends keep running, and behind them Sheryl sees the cavalry charge has run its course. The Order’s soldiers are in the midst of all manner of devils, hacking and slashing at any who try to get past them.
It’s unbearable to watch as they start to fall but she must, she will witness their bravery to the very end.
The Archmage Nikolaus Morwing and his students are desperately holding open the portal for everyone fleeing Avernus. The Glorious Company rush by, the last of the battalions, a brigade of bright colours. They are followed by a few stragglers from the Errant Guard before Astra swoops through, she and Sheryl the last ones to pass it’s unstable borders.
The portal closes, the rift between the two planes seals, and the orange glow around the land subsides and for the first time since the Giant War ended they can no longer see its presence.
Astra gracefully lands in the turnip field. General Razorback is waiting for them and starts thanking Sheryl and her friends for helping to save K’ul Goran. The other commanders start to come up to them as well, repeating the sentiments but Sheryl is only half listening. Her face is covered in ash and though it is the gloaming hour, Sheryl suspects some people can see the rivers by which her tears had flowed, their clear path marked, plane as day on her face. She is not aware that tears are still flowing as she watches BB, elbow deep in dirt, planting sunflower seeds where the portal was, her hands gently folding the earth over them again and again.
Then Arvel comes over, a bright grin on his face.
“This was a battle well fought, a great campaign!” the fey warrior says, gesturing to them all. Sheryl looks at her friends, notices Arkadius isn’t there and wonders where he is, worry craving her brow. “Absolutely wonderful. Surely we will meet again. This was a very exciting and very interesting expedition. I’m sure that there is much we can still achieve together.”
As Arvel speaks Sheryl looks around, panic suddenly making her think the worst, stopping her tears. But then, thankfully, Arkadius’ voice speaks within her mind.
“Need to be alone. I feel like… crap.”
She lets out a shaky sigh. Her brow furrows as she tries to find him, but it’s getting darker and the winds keep whipping her hair around her face.
“Okay Arkadius. If you need anything, please let me know…”
“I put people to death. I cannot be celebrated for that.”
She tries to respond but he is too far away. It’s at that moment she realises Ida is no longer under her armour. A knot of worry winds itself around her heart for her friend.
“He will come to you when he is ready,” Astra reassures her.
“I know he will…”
She rests a hand on Astra’s neck and finally notices how much ash is covering both of them. It’s as Sheryl is magically removing it from them that Arvel comes over to her.
“Lady Merla,” he says to her in Sylvan, bowing. “The Glorious Company and I will return to the Summer Court from here. It would be an honour if you would accompany us. Together we can regale Queen Titania with our daring exploits on the fields of Avernus!”
She looks at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. She hears the Song calling her home but then she thinks of Gretcha, of the Crimson Fist, and of the people who should be told exactly what happened at the Sundered Chains.
“There is something I must see to personally before I can return to the Summer Lands. Go ahead of me, let the Queen know of our success here. I will be there once my task is complete.”
He tilts his head a little, giving her a quizzical look, but bows instead of asking the questions she can see he wants to.
“You are going to speak to the Grandmaster,” Astra says to her.
“Varis should hear from someone who was there what happened to his men. It’s going to be hard enough on the Order as it is and I… I want to be there for him.” The grip she has on the vines draped around Astra’s withers gets tighter as tries to hold onto the emotions that want to overwhelm her.
The winged unicorn tosses her mane before starting to gallop in a westerly direction.
“Then I shall help you get there swiftly!”
Picking up speed, Astra takes off, heading towards Zot Goran and the teleportation circle which will take her mistress back to Daring Heights.
