The outer walls had fallen, the gate mechanism was sabotaged beyond repair and now all that stood between the army of the King of Shadows was the sun. That, a pitiful remnant of the Keep's guards and a band of adventurers who had, it seemed, fought their last fight. The party of heroes stood unafraid, in the middle of a barricaded area just inside the gate, waiting for Black Garius. The massed footsteps of thousands of undead filled the air, swarming up the path to the inner wall. Aeronwy stood calmly at the head of the group, her hair spilling down her back like the sunrise they awaited, the Sword of Gith in one hand and a haze of arcane fire draped around the other.
She'd ordered Ammon and Zhjaeve to the back of the group, keeping them in reserve for Garuis's appearance. Elanee and Khelgar stood on either side of her, a small number of lizardfolk and Ironfist warriors still drawing breath beside them. The construct anchored one end of the line, its blades glittering with silver fire and Casavir held the other, his once shining armour now battered and stained by hours of relentless combat. Neeshka stood behind the line, safeguarding Qara and Sand as they frantically summoned extra-planar allies. Grobnar stood with them, tunelessly humming one of his many songs that filled all who could hear it with a newly found strength.
And behind the barricades, maybe two-score warriors of a force that had once boasted over five hundred. Almost all were of the Captain's Company and deep down, a part of Aeronwy wept for the slaughter that had claimed so many of those lives. But on the surface, she was the same as always. Nothing but the sun was going to stop this horde, but she and her companions would sell their lives for, she hoped, a high enough price that what was left would have to pause before going after Neverwinter. If they were lucky, long enough for the Lord's Alliance forces to arrive and crush them. So they waited for that tide of inhumanity to gather and surely sweep them away. Until cheers rung out from the soldiers behind her. She spun on the spot, watching the first rays of the dawn's light lance across a smoking sky.
She turned back to her front, expecting to see the undead crumble as the sunlight beat down on them. She was met by the sight of the horde, unhindered by the sun that should have defeated it, reach the top of the path and charge. The tide of death swept through the sabotaged gateway and she had bare moments to ready herself again before they hit her line like a tidal bore. At least, so it seemed. But Garius was playing this one smart, she thought, as her sword swept through the chest of a charging skeleton. As the weaker undead kept them busy, the wraiths, vampires and more lethal monsters were swarming the barricades.
"Qara! Sand! Concentrate on the ones trying to breach the barricades, we can hold this line without you." She yelled over the screams of battle. Her sword twirled in her hand, lancing through the bones of another skeleton and she pointed a finger at a zombie about to stab Elanee. A lightning bolt lanced from her hand, splitting off into a score of smaller bolts on impact. It cleared a space around the druid, who flashed her a quick smile before diving back into the fray, her sword of fire cutting a swathe through the undead ranks. Aeronwy dispatched another foe and then glanced around. Sand and Qara had sent the undead assaulting the barricades reeling with their minions and spells. The line was holding, any injuries being quickly healed by Elanee, Zhjaeve or the surviving lizardfolk shamans. They were winning!
"Forward, push them back to the gate and make a wall of their bodies!" Khelgar boomed and this time they were the ones to charge, yelling inarticulate battle cries. The line inched forward, body by body, slash by slash until they were just short of the gateway.
"Just a little further! Keeping going!" She screamed as Khelgar shattered the skull of the last vampire and darted forward to the gate. Neeshka spun gracefully through the melee, rapier and scimitar flashing in the dawn light. One crackled with white electricity, the other dripped acidic green fire and both danced with deadly beauty in their owner's hands as she cut a path of shattered bodies through the army of undead. Gith's sword lashed out, cutting down two wraiths in a single swipe and Aeronwy finally gained the threshold.
Only to find herself facing none other than Black Garius himself. They stared at each other for perhaps a second, then he reacted. Garius lashed out with a wave of shadowborn power, sweeping the entire group back to the line they had previously held and flinging several to the ground. He stepped out of the gateway, rage streamed off of him in waves of fury as more undead scurried past to take up positions in a line very much like the one that Aeronwy and her companions had swiftly re-established. But there were holes in their line this time. Only two dwarves had survived, along with two warriors and a shaman from the lizardfolk. They had come so close she thought sadly, but now they were done. All that remained was what she'd thought before; to kill as many undead as possible.
"Ammon, Zhjaeve, start chanting," she said grimly, gesturing at Garius. "We may be going down, but we're going to take that bastard with us." Then raised her voice. "This is probably the last time we're going to see each other, and I want to say this, fighting with you was as great an honour as becoming what I am now. More so, in some ways, but now we are here. So to all of you I say, good luck and may the Gods keep you." She stepped forward, out of the line, as rings of white fire surrounded Zhjaeve and Jerro, raised her glittering, liquid sword and screamed into the uncaring sky.
"For Neverwinter, now and forever!" The army of the King of Shadows charged.
Deekin; bard, merchant and sometime adventurer was confused. Not that this was an uncommon experience, despite his age, but this was important. The nice boss who had given him a shop, now overrun by hordes of skeletons and who knew what else, was facing down against the Shadow Wraith that Garius had become. He knew they couldn't win, they knew they couldn't win. But they were doing it anyway. It reminded him of his old boss that he had helped defeat Mephistopheles. He'd had the same sort of courage to go out there, regardless of the odds and do everything in his power to defeat whatever they were fighting. But that wasn't the problem. His old boss had given him a rod before they parted ways. He had said that if Deekin ever really, really needed help, then he should break the rod, and he'd come and deal with whatever was the problem.
Deekin wanted to break the rod, but he wasn't sure. What if his old boss was busy doing something important? Deekin looked down from the tower again, watching as his new boss was flung back into the courtyard by a wave of shadow that made his wings itch. More undead filed into the barricaded space, surrounding the shadow wraith. This was a dilemma. He watched the undead charge, saw the heroes that his new boss had gathered face them beside her, but he could tell it was futile. There were too many enemies, and not enough strength left to stop them.
"No! Boss! No!" He cried out, but no one seemed to hear him. He looked to the rod on his belt, then gave a long sigh. Magic surged in his veins, the blood of dragons, begging to be unleashed. This time he wouldn't fight it. His wings tore free of the simple cloth on his back, and he dived from the keep as his new boss was dragged to the ground by a mob of skeletons.
Aeronwy fought like a madwoman, the true Silver Sword wrapping her in a curtain of liquid edges whilst her free hand spewed magical death. The True Naming was done, she knew, as bolts of dark hellfire shattered corpses and divine power stabbed out of the heavens to send even greater undead reeling. Somewhere in her head she knew that there were too many reanimated corpses between her blade and the Reaver, but that wouldn't stop her from trying. She tumbled through the uncountable ranks of her foes, her sword carving a circle of death around her. She saw Elanee holding off five massive skeletal warriors on her own, Khelgar crushing the skulls and rib cages of vampires and zombies as he tore across the field like a whirlwind. The construct wading through the melee, dealing out swift death with single swipes of its enchanted blade-arm. But each and all, they fell to the horde that swept over them and carried them to the ground.
Then she was in front of Garius, and she had no time to consider what she'd seen, or the feat of reaching him. He gestured lazily and robes of black fire sprang from his fingertips, only for her to hurl herself away from them and bring the Sword of Gith crashing down through them. Garius screamed in pain and rage as the blade sheared through the whips of shadowstuff and flung her away with a bolt of force. She scrambled for her footing, almost finding it before a ghoul flung itself on her, carrying her to the ground. She beat at it with one hand, her sword coming around to stab through it…too late. A score of varied undead flung themselves on her and she went down, screaming defiance. She felt a club in her stomach, felt the ribs give way and screamed again, this time in pain. Even then she didn't stop, lashing about her with sword and spell at the creatures bearing her down. Then one of the things latched itself onto her throat, cutting off air as another club hit her. And another. Her world narrowed as more undead pinned her limbs, and she realised in that horrific instant that her magic was almost gone. Nothing left, but maybe-
The wind howled to life above her, and she felt the sudden hiss of ice through the mound of undead. Then there was heat, and the undead above her vanished, its body frozen and turned to steam too quickly for her to follow. Pulling herself to her feet, she looked around, then froze with her sword still buried point-first in the earth. Deekin, that slightly mad kobold merchant she had given a shop was hovering above her, on the wings she'd never known his Dragon Disciplehood had given him, hands alight with sorcerous power.
"You insolent vermin!" Garius spoke, his voice flat and terribly cold. "You think you can challenge me, after all your 'heroes' have fallen against me? Has your magic warped your wits as well as your body?" Yet somewhere in his voice, there was a hint of uncertainty.
"My magic is quite fine." Deekin replied, his voice calm and clear, projecting with the natural skill of a bard. "But my old boss will stop you. You will not hurt the nice boss who gave Deekin a shop!"
"I've no time for vermin with delusions." The wraith growled. "Kindly die." He flicked his hand at the kobold, loosing a torrent of energy that struck the kobold in a flash that was almost blinding. Aeronwy stared, some part of her mind praying that Garius had given her friend a quick death. Yet as her eyes cleared, Deekin was hovering above her still, completely unharmed. He tutted at Garius.
"Silly shadow thing. Now you've tried to hurt Deekin. Old boss will be mad."
"And who's that meant to be?" Fear was feeding anger now, hungry shadows pouring from the wraith's bones, leaping towards the sky.
Deekin's smile was all teeth as he drew from his belt an intricately carved rod of pale wood. "Who you meet when I do this, doomed Shadow." And he snapped it in two.
Power flared from the broken rod, pouring out into the space above the gates, forming an orb of radiant power. It swung around as Garius and Aeronwy watched, as if aligning itself, then lanced up into a pillar that impaled the sky. It flooded upwards, upwards, tearing a hole between the planes as it searched for its maker at long last.
That battle froze at that explosion, every caster recognising the working of power for exactly what it was. Everything paused, gazing up as the lance danced across the sky in a hauntingly beautiful pattern above. Everything, even the undead. It was just a second, but that was enough. And the Greycloak officers took ruthless advantage of that pause.
"Archers. Loose!" Kana screamed as she vaulted the barricade; Catriona, Bevil and Light of Heavens right beside her. They rolled into a crouch as they hit the ground, and a hail of arrows shot over them into the ranks of temporarily frozen undead. "Captain's Company! To your liege!" Swords flashed in the dawn's light, like blades of fire instead of metal as they rushed towards the Knight-Captain. If they could reach her, get her away from Garius, there might be a chance. Deekin summoned a storm of ice and lightning, ripping away the undead that had pulled down the rest of their leaders, who rose and joined the charge. They hit the circle of wraiths around Garius just as the undead started to move again, but mortals were not tools. They reacted faster, with experience hard-won in drills and battle. The remaining Greycloaks fell back, fighting furiously for separation, and their leaders yanked the Knight-Captain off the ground and sprinted for the barricade.
"Stop them!" Garius shouted. A ray of green fury leapt from his finger towards Aeronwy, seeking to end it all now, and Light of Heavens spun on the spot. Her shield came up, completely interposed between the ray and the Knight-Captain.
"My life for Neverwinter!" She roared the oath in challenge, and Garius's spell hit her shield and bounced.
Black shadow-stuff leapt from his hands, and the Aasimar's namesake blazed to life around her to meet it. Brilliant gold fought against the shadow, and her knees buckled as all the power she had poured out of her, twisting desperately against the darkness.
"Heavens! Look out!" Bevil yelled as a massive skeletal warrior swung a club as long as he was tall at her head. She dodged, somehow, and her sword flashed down in a sparkling arc of steel and power, shearing through the plate the warrior was garbed in and separating its legs from its torso. But it cost her the concentration needed for her shield. Garius's face twisted in a what no mortal could call a smile, and part of his essence reached hungrily for the heavenly champion.
"Hey! Shadow thing." Garius looked up suddenly at the taunting voice. "Eat this!" Deekin cried. A ray of purest winter slashed across the distance between them and lanced into him, searing an icy hole in his essence. He screamed in pain, greater than any human could endure, he was not human. Even in pain, he could still strike back. Shadow lashed out again, smashing Deekin into the keep and ripping the buildings around the Reaper apart like a hurricane. Wood, glass, metal and stone, the energy caught them all, and spewed forth only dust and ashes.
"Where is your boss now kobold? Garius screeched, rising into the sky on wings of twilight as more shadowstuff pooled in his hands. A greater working this, one that would shake the world. "He will not save you, he cannot, for I am greater then he could ever be! Now you die, and Neverwinter will be mine!"
The shadows howled beside him, hungry for mortal blood and more, how could there be more, undead streamed through the gates to take their final victory. Ravenous darkness tore free of the Wraith's hold, reaching out to reap the souls of all left alive, and as it swept down on them Aeronwy heard Deekin whisper a single question.
"Boss...why didn't you come?"
Everything stopped.
Time ceased.
Blades about to land a blow slid to a stop. The wall of hungry shadows of Garius's creation froze a mere span from the closest to it. Then power flashed at the entrance to the keep, just ahead of the last barricade, and two figures stepped through into the silent tableau. One was a man, clad in robes of soft grey threaded with crimson. The other was the ethereal form of a female paladin. They both paused, struck by destruction that had been unleashed on the Keep. Then the man straightened, and something in his face hardened as he stared at the creature that had unleashed it. Eyes the colour of a spring sky absorbed the scene before him, and he reached out to his companion. She stepped towards him...and something strange happened. She seemed to shimmer, becoming more solid and then melded into his body. Golden fire traced the air around him in a smooth shell as he rose to the same height as Garius. A shower of prismatic light ran through his fingertips and he cupped his hands. If any had been able to see it, they would have seen another pair of thinner, pale hands inside of his.
A bead of argent flame formed in the space between their fingers, and the shell around them poured into it. Silver met gold, and all the colours of the rainbow, pooling together like water. Except this water was power, and that power was that of two souls that had long since breached the limits of their birth. One hand closed about that echo of true divinity, and light shone forth from the raised fist like a beacon against the darkness before it. It built once, then again, each time doubling in strength, and as the last grains of frozen time slipped away, they both let it go.
Garius had been an archmagi before his ascension to the King of Shadow's side. His understanding of magic was as deep as it was powerful, now rooted in the deceitful power of his master. And yet it was as a fan against a tornado before the strength of the two who Deekin had summoned. The light slashed through the wave of lethal gloom that should have been his victory, wiping away the undead around him with contemptuous ease. It swept out across the gates of the Keep, down the path that led to it, and where it passed the undead ceased. Some of his stronger creatures, further back, tried to protect themselves or flee. Both paths were equally futile. They died with words of power on their lips, but they died all the same. And when Garius screamed this time, it was true pain, that of a vampire when unveiled against the sun. But even as wounded as he was, his essence torn asunder, he was cunning. His dreams of a broken Neverwinter might be gone, but he still lived. And so, he too tried to run.
Unfortunately for him, he had not gone unnoticed. A ray of green light sprang from the hand of the man who'd wrought his ruin, binding him to the ground even as another spell forged bars of force around him. He tried to slip between them, but there was no time, the spell woven too quickly for him to catch. He hissed, desperate, but his magic was as spent as those he'd told were soon to die.
The man descended towards him slowly, as if strolling on a delicate floor and landed just in front of the cage. The face of the elven spectre tugged at Garius' memory, but he couldn't think properly through the pain. He glared at them, eyes burning with hatred, and found no mercy in the blue ice staring back at him.
"Who are you?" He whispered, and the man smiled coldly.
"They called me the Hero of Waterdeep," the mage replied, and the wraith suddenly felt fear again, from a being not his master. His captor straightened, any final traces of warmth vanishing as he saw the bodies scattered around the courtyard. "Garius, Master of the Fifth Tower. You have much to answer for."
.
