2022-06-28 Ex Astris - Gerhard

There are no stars tonight, I think to myself. No eyes of the heavens watching me; Vega, the princess of the skies, is hidden; Altair is here, sitting amongst comrades, legs dangling over a small cliff's edge.

I cannot help, cannot stop thinking of her. If she is okay, if she has found safety. Here, on the eastern battlements, I have no view of Daring Heights. My only sights are the preparations my fellow adventurers have made: a moat, a trench, a spike, a torch.

Light flashes in the sky, thunder rumbles through the earth.

Qirlira the Bright, and her mother, Zanathir the Shining Radiance, stand amongst us. Will they be enough?

I run a thumb along the silver bowstring of the Call, plucking it with an anxious hand. My heart beats in my chest, loud and clear.

It is steady now, ready.

I let off the first volley of arrows towards the Gith invaders and their red dragons. Their breath is awesome, and cruel, and we try to avoid it as much as we can.

The gemstone dragons drive us to be better, to do more, with each breath of moonlight that they expel. Zanathir looks to the sky, snarling at some... thing that flies above us. The largest red dragon we have ever seen flies above, heading north.

The adventurers there can handle it.

The Gith captain across the moat has drawn my ire, and I loose a couple of arrows at him. The first finds its home, nestling deep within the plates of his armor, but the ethereal chains that spurt forth are easily knocked aside, as is the second arrow. In retaliation, he raises a hand, closing his fingers into a fist as he stares his assailant in the eye.

I can feel my body tensing, fighting, wanting to give in. But I have more to do.

In the thick of battle, a Gith baring down on us, I hear a noise.

A cat, a small, defenceless animal, brown fur singed lightly in the fighting, swipes at a Gith soldier as it makes it way towards the wall. It's ears are back, eyes slits, claws out in a fierce position, ready to attack.

I shout, my words turning to silver in my mouth. "Cat! Move!" An arrow, and another, and the Gith is at my feet.

The cat sits up, licking a paw. "I had him, you know."

I stare at the cat, incredulous, before another invader demands my attention. When I look back again, the beast is gone.

The observatory behind us explodes, glass raining down on me and the others. We've have been fending off the invaders for hours, now; our bodies spent and tired.

My mind is wrenched from the battle, ripped across time and space, to another observatory. The fear was different then, more... personal. But, Orianna, she...

My thoughts are heaved back to the present at the swing of Qirliria's tail. It catches a Gish in the torso, sending it flying into a nearby tree. I nock an arrow, letting it loose, pinning the mage to the tree. The mage coughs up a little blood before the light leaves her eyes.

The young dragon bares down on me, a wicked smile on its face. I look around for the others. Velania, safe at the bottom of the cliff. Beets and Dwirhian and Florian, in the midst of the melee. Amble, firing from within his Tiny Hut.

I have nowhere to run. Nowhere that I can hide.

The dragon pulls its head back, smoke curling around its lips, and I do the only thing I can.

I brace, and pray.

The fire curls around me, lapping at my clothes. My shirt burns, my skin cracks and pops.

The flames bite at the few pages of parchment I had brought with me. A map of the eastern fort. A letter, a name written on the front in a practiced hand.

The letter goes first, curling into black char that falls into the air.

I raise my head, the ends of my hair curling and burning in the onslaught.

The fire subsides, the earth below my feet smouldering. Smoke curls from every part of my body as I stare down the dragon. My hand grips the Call, muscles taut from the strain of staying upright.

Velania speaks a Healing Word, and my burnt skin stitches itself back together.

The Call shines bright in the night, the fires reflecting off of the silver surface, and the dragon flies backwards. Each step I take, it flies back further, until I am staring it down from the top of the cliff.

I raise my bow, nocking an arrow, before loosing it at the beast. Another follows, and another, as I climb onto the back of the nearby Zanathir, firing shot after shot into the beast.

Dwirhian creates a pillar of snow and sleet, obscuring the adult red dragon from our view. We cheer, the beast no longer terrifying us with its awful visage.

But our celebrations are short lived, as a thick red claw reaches out of the storm, grabbing Qirliria and pulling her inside.

Flashes of fire and moonlight are seen through the gaps of the storm; teeth and claw, wing and foot. We watch, horrified, of who will emerge.

With a thud, the broken, bloodied, lifeless body of Qirliria hits the ground, the red dragon emerging from the storm with a bloodcurdling roar.

Zanathir, my legs wrapped around her shoulders, lunges at the invader. Her rage is absolute, her fury darker than the darkest night as she bites and claws and gouges at the beast that has murdered her beloved daughter.

We climb, higher and higher into the clouds, as I hang out with every ounce of strength I have left.

But the thought is cut short as I dodge a claw, duck beneath a bout of fire.

But I have no chance, as Zanathir spins in a loop, dangling me upside down.

A swipe, a gnashing of teeth, and a crescent horn plunged deep into the chest of the red dragon seals its fate. The thundering crash as it hits the earth shakes each of us to our core. Zanathir lands, a foot atop the body, and roars.

The roar is deafening, filled with a mother's grief. A single beam of brilliant, radiant light appears, Zanathir's mouth opened wide as she finishes the beast beneath her feet.

The Arvaneen, our friends from the north, thunder in, turning the tide of battle in our favour. We can rest, briefly, as the last of the Gith are chased from the fort. As the last of the red dragons flee, taking to the now clear skies.

The dawn has broken, the first rays of sunlight peeking over the trees as the adventurers get their first good look at Fort Ettin since it was wrapped in night and wreathed in flame.

Coll appears, names are read, cries echo through the courtyard.

Oriloki. My heart stops, my ears strain, my hands moving others out of the way as I push closer to the front, to Aurelia reading her ledger.

No, please, Tymora, no, not... He waits with bated breath. Copernicus. Sampson Ironstrong. Tim Ironstrong. The names are never ending, a river of pain and loss carrying his friends and comrades to their grief.

But Aurelia stops, and he has not heard her name.

The adventurers filter out, their wails filling the night where there was once the clash of steel on scale. Gerhard shuffles with them, the night's events catching up to him. Finding a smouldering chair, he sits, finally allowed a break after the longest night of his life.

He looks up with his eyes from the ground, his head low. The cat from before, his brown fur rumpled and his grey eyes half lidded, looks up to him. Gerhard reaches a hand out to scratch behind the feline's ears. "You survived too, huh?"