Chapter 36: Battle of Crossroads Keep
Casavir looked out over the battlements of the rebuilt fortress. Rebuilt was not really the right word. The place had been fortified well beyond its original state. The walls were higher with innovative arrow slits and murder holes around the guardhouse protecting the portcullis leading into the inner courtyard, the road in and out of the place was paved with a black tar that had hardened into something that made it easy for merchant carts to bring goods in, and there were new siege engines placed strategically throughout the fortress.
Yes, the paladin thought, Crossroads Keep was ready for the invasion to come.
It was not just the buildings, though. The people were trained and prepared in a way he would not have thought possible. The greycloaks had developed into fine soldiers, and the paladin knew this was due almost entirely to the efforts of Colonel Jack O'Neill. He put raw recruits through what he called a "boot camp" that turned untrained farmers and undisciplined ruffians alike into regimented troops. Casavir remembered with pride that he had taken part in training the men, though he was still astounded by just how hard the colonel and all of the Knight Captain's companions had pushed them all.
"Get your head down, soldier!" came the colonel's cry, as a fireball detonated in the area just above them. "Move your useless carcass before it becomes a dead carcass, private!" This was a far cry from Jack O'Neill's typical personality, but when it came to military training he was harsh and unrelenting.
Several sweating Greycloaks carrying heavy crossbows crawled on their hands and knees through an obstacle course as one of the Many-Starred Cloak mages fired a combination of harmless flares, beams of ice or acid, and deadly fireballs into the air above them. The mages were careful not to fire close enough that it would hit one of them, but the 'Cloaks didn't know that.
Casavir turned away from the shock training back to his current group of recruits, a burly bunch two weeks into their training slated to become infantry. They were practicing the basic sword form he had been teaching them and were showing some progress. But the experienced paladin of Tyr had seen that they gotten into a comfortable routine. Time to break that up.
"Soldiers, Break!" he called out and the fighting stopped immediately. They had learned the hard way that failing to come to a complete stop when an instructor called "break" was a very bad idea during their first week. "Now I want you to come at me and attempt to land a blow on my armor. Do not fear that you will harm me. You must all work as a team if you are to have any hope of striking me before time is up."
The soldiers joined together to attack him, falling into the formation he had taught them to take when battling a superior opponent. Casavir nodded in approval, parrying attacks with his sword and taking strikes on his shield. They left openings for him to make a riposte, but he wasn't focusing on that. Instead, he worked them back and forth, taking carefully timed steps to move the group out of position. After around thirty seconds of good teamwork, Casavir retreated five steps and the group attacked harder, a pair attempting to come around to his exposed back.
As soon as they were out of position, a shadow separated from the wall and came up behind one of them and struck a blow to the back of their head, instantly sending that trainee to the ground unconscious. Before a second one could even turn around, the shadow felled a second member of the group. The remaining four turned in confusion to confront the new threat, and Casavir went on the offensive, tagging two of them in quick succession in spots that were considered "kill points" during training. The remaining two found themselves facing two superior opponents and were defeated seconds later.
Casavir looked over his downcast team, his deep, gentlemanly voice giving them his assessment. "As you see, you were very quickly defeated. However, you did a good job in your initial assault, maintaining a proper formation." He paused a moment before continuing. "I would introduce you to Neeshka, the woman who took you all by surprise." At the odd looks that came from the group seeing Neeshka's fiendish heritage, Casavir added, "She is a companion to our Knight Captain just the same as I am and a close friend of both the Colonel and Daniel Jackson."
The group immediately snapped to full attention. Any of the three names that had been dropped by their trainer would have been enough to make them walk on eggshells, having no wish to be on any of their bad sides. "You were defeated because you became impatient and careless, allowing your formation to break in your haste to score a hit. But doing so on the battlefield will leave you open to an attack from another direction. That is the reason why YOU ARE TO HOLD YOUR FORMATION!"
The group stiffened as if slapped. Of all of their trainers, Casavir was the least likely to shout or scold. But he was learning that a soft voice was not always the most best for teaching such men. He was starting to take a page from Colonel O'Neill's very effective tactics.
Remembering back on his part in their training, the paladin looked down to see a squad of those infantrymen at the gates, prepared for war. They had come far in the few months they had trained and were ready for what was to come. They would need all that training.
The King of Shadows was on the move. His army had marched out of the Mere of Dead Men and lain waste to the south, destroying resistance in both Fort Locke and the village of Highcliff. Tamil Farlong, now the Knight Captain and official Lady of Crossroads Keep, had learned that her home village had been completely destroyed. Few had even survived. And now all those that had died were returning as an army of undead, marching towards Neverwinter. But they would need to pass through Crossroads Keep to get there.
This was as far as that army of undead would go Casavir vowed. And he was a man of his word.
.
Grobnar joyfully looked over the form of the Blade Golem the group had brought back from the githyanki caves and now finally had a chance to rebuild. The giant metal monstrosity stood erect, its huge sword-like arm held out ready to slash anything before it. Its impassive eyes regarded the basement it stood within without reacting. For the moment, it was inert, awaiting a command to kill and dismember its master's foes. The gnome mentally made a note about rhyming "dismember foes" and "and then the toes" for his ballad.
At first, Grobnar had been fearful of the deadly golem. After all, the boy-seer, Marcus, had prophesied a bladed construct around him at his death. Ordinarily, the prospect of attempting to reactivate a deadly killing machine like this would have excited the gnome, but with the whole death thing and all, he had been uncharacteristically apprehensive. It was entirely possible that he could accidentally set the thing off and cause the prediction to come true. But then he had thought, what if not reactivating the golem would be what led to his death? What if someone else found it, reactivated it, and set it on him?
Well, the only thing to do was to build it himself and pour so much love and attention into it that there would be no possible way the golem would ever, ever harm him. Right?
Which was why the gnomish bard was thinking up a song as he whistled a tune and worked even harder on fine-tuning all the adjustments that had been made. Grobnar really had to thank Sam for all her ideas. He had met some geniuses in his day, but most of them were stark raving mad. He had never met a completely sane one before.
"Hmm… let's see…
"Activation protocol,
To make the Construct move and all.
Self-diagnostic subroutine,
Making sure it won't turn bad or mean.
Divination, Transmutation, Abjuration Incanting,
Give our automaton a personality that's enchanting!
"Obey commands, dismember foes,
Slice off the hands and then the toes.
Process instructions dutifully,
And all will turn out beautifully.
Oh goodly golem, my Construct dear,
Of you how could I ever fear?"
A movement caught Grobnar's eye and he turned in the middle of his rhyme.
"Singing to the tin man again?" a gruff voice called out insultingly.
"Oh, it's you, Sir Bishop!" Grobnar said respectfully. "Well yes, I was just putting some finishing touches on the Construct. Don't want him breaking down and hurting himself in the middle of a fight."
The sullen ranger smirked. "That's not what I'd be worrying about. I'd be more worried about it hurting us during a fight."
"Oh, yes, of course, I know what you mean. That's why I did as you suggested and created a password that you can use to control him as well!"
"Very wise of you, gnome," Bishop said in a tone that hinted at mockery. "I came down here to tell you that Tamil is looking for you. It looks like the battle this lousy place has been preparing for is about to finally take place. That rust-bucket of your might actually get to see some use."
"Oh, really? Well, that's good news! Or rather, at least exciting news. I'd better go up and see the Knight Captain then to see what part she wants me and the Construct to play."
"Yes, you do that"
Grobnar all but bounced out of the room leaving Bishop alone with the golem.
The ranger turned to the golem. "Construct, Ranger-man says follow me." The Construct turned to face the ranger after hearing the pass phrase it had been programmed to obey. "When you hear me the command 'come here', you will obey commands from me and only me. Acknowledge command."
The blade golem brought the blade up in front of its face in the form of a salute. The ranger watched the construct perform the action that showed that it heard and understood the command. Then he too walked out of the room with an evil smile on his face.
.
Khelgar Ironfist strode across the Keep with his balding head turning to look in all directions, examining the most recent work that his clan had done to the interior. He felt his little dwarven heart swell with pride as he saw the superior workmanship of his clansmen's stonework. Oh sure, they grumbled and complained that they weren't given enough time to do a proper job of it, but the Ironfist craftsman's "slipshod" was as good as the Neverwinter stonemasons' best work.
And stone work was just the beginning of what they had done for Crossroads Keep. The designs provided by Major Samantha Carter and the head architect, Master Veedle, had been thought odd, but not really challenging to the Ironfists. The designs called for the oddest things, such as alchemical silver wires stretched so thin they could be snapped in half with a finger, then bound up together and stretched across the length and breadth of the Keep, even brought to the buildings outside through underground trenches. Then there was glasswork that was shaped like flower bulbs, but with tiny carbon filaments and metal pieces with spiral screws on the bottom.
Of course, when Dr. Carter and Dr. Jackson turned on the generator they had constructed and then flipped the switch on a device they called a "circuit breaker" a fortnight ago and the whole place lit up like a swarm of pixies in the summer, it all started to make sense. And the humans were giving this priceless secret to the Ironfist dwarves. Now these were human allies a dwarf could trust!
"King Khelgar!" a voice came calling out ahead of him. "The undead army, it be here!"
"Bah, I told ya! Don't go calling me king, alright? I'll lead ya and all, since I've got the belt and the Hammer of Ironfist and all that, but just call me Khelgar!"
"Of course, my king," the dwarf bowed respectfully, but stubbornly continued to address him as king, even while claiming to comply with his order. "But there's a problem sir. Some of the workers were caught outside when the enemy's advanced troops arrived. The Greycloaks managed to evacuate them, fer the most part, but the soldiers can't retreat back into the Keep without getting slaughtered. The Captain is lookin' to go out to rescue them!"
Khelgar didn't hesitate. He grabbed his great hammer and set off for the front gates as fast as his short legs could carry him. The dwarf may have become leader of his clan, and was beholden to no one for anything, but he would always be ready to stand beside Knight Captain Tamil Farlong come hell, high water, or high water in the Hells.
"Ay! Lass!" the dwarf shouted out as he caught sight of the bard who had become a hero and a knight. "Don't be thinking you can go out there without me! If you thought you were going to have all the fun out there alone, you've got another thing coming to you!"
Tamil turned towards him and gave him a huge smile. "Khelgar. Just the dwarf I was looking for. We're going to charge out and bring back as many of the soldiers as we can." She looked resplendent in her shining suit of mithral chain mail, her famous yellow knight's cloak flowing behind her in the blowing wind. She cut a fine figure that woman. Some lad was gonna be a lucky man, if ever there was any worthy of her.
"And just where do the two of you think you're going?" called a familiar voice behind them?
Khelgar and Tamil turned to see Colonel Jack O'Neill with an expression that could only be interpreted as reprimanding. "Jack!" Tamil included the man in her welcoming smile. "Glad you're here, you can join the rescue."
Colonel Jack O'Neill stepped between Tamil and the front gates. "I intend to. But you and Khelgar aren't leading the charge this time. Your place is here, not out there."
"What do ya mean!" Khelgar nearly roared. "You may be gettin' pretty good with those two blades of yours, but I'll still knock you halfway to Neverwinter if you're thinking you're better than me!"
"And don't you even think of protecting me because I'm a woman, Jack O'Neill," Tamil added, placing her hands on her hips. "I'm still the Knight Captain here."
"That's exactly why you can't go out there," Jack replied. "Khelgar, you're the king of the Ironfists. Without you, who will the Ironfists follow? Your place is with your clan. When it's time for Clan Ironfist to battle, it will be Khelgar leading them with that hammer of yours.
"And you, Tamil, you're the heart and soul of this place. Nobody can lead the men like you can. I can't pretend to be able to inspire a thousandth of what you can get out everyone. But that's exactly why you can't be risked beyond those walls until the time comes to strike," Jack continued. "You made me your second in command in this fortress, and one of the things a good executive officer does is to makes sure the commander doesn't put herself at risk. So, the two of you, you're staying here."
"I know you're right, Jack," Tamil said but still shook her head. "But there's just not enough time to assemble enough men for this mission. I've got to see this done myself or we're just wasting men's lives." The Knight Captain's tone was no longer commanding, now it was simply insistent. The woman from West Harbor would not allow anyone under her command to die needlessly. It was one of the reasons all the men serving under her command respected her. Of course, the fact that she was a beauty and could sing like an angel only made them fanatically devoted.
"What do you think I've been doing with that Captain's Company you gave me charge of all this time?" No sooner than Jack finished saying this than the elite men and women of the Greycloaks showed up with a familiar sight at their head. Light of Heavens, the blond haired paladin who had once challenged Tamil for the right to be the "hero" of the times. Though she had failed to defeat Tamil in single combat, she had proven to be very capable. The woman was a gifted fighter and inspired those around her to excellence. She had even revealed something about Tamil that the woman had never known before, that she was quite literally descended from angels.
The soldiers in Crossroads Keep were all armed and armored better than most professional soldiers in the Sword Coast. They were certainly better equipped than the typical Greycloak outfit, many of which lacked any armor and might not even have a proper weapon. But the Captain's Company put the rest of the Keep to shame. Every one of them was equipped with both magical arms and armor. Their weapons, swords and shields were the spoils taken by Tamil and her companions that were inferior to what they already were carrying, or items the group had cast aside in favor of better equipment. Despite their irregularity in armor, The Captain's Company were still easily distinguished by the matching solid green cloaks, silvery black boots, and golden gloves they all wore.
"Let these men have the honor of taking your place on the field of battle today! They've earned it!" Jack yelled out, more for their benefit than for Captain Farlong's. The group didn't disappoint, letting out a loud cheer of "For the Knight Captain! For the Colonel!"
Neither Tamil nor Khelgar could say anything more in the face of that. The gates opened and the Captain's Company charged out with Jack O'Neill and Light of Heavens at the lead.
"Hmph," Khelgar complained. "He always gets to have all the fun."
Tamil nodded her agreement. "Tell me about it."
.
Daniel Jackson watched the battle unfold as he ate a bowl full of mixed nuts. The Duskwood might not be good for magic users trying to cast spells, but it was excellent for gathering berries, nuts, and herbs. Daniel flipped a control switch and a monitor switched to another one of the cameras they had set up along the path leading into Crossroads Keep. It was pretty exciting stuff to watch Jack tearing through ranks of undead with his swords. Unfortunately, the resolution on the monitors wasn't all that good, but the archaeologist/wizard could see when Jack sheathed the weapons and pulled out his P90.
The soldiers being rescued knew to get out of the way. The shadow priests leading the undead didn't. The screen showed something ripping through and out of the black robed villains before they fell to the ground dead. Finally, the last of the soldiers who had been trapped by the sudden enemy advance were back behind Jack and the elite Captain's Company and ready to head back to safety.
Daniel also watched as a contingent of undead, led by another pair of Shadow Priests, charged across the nearby bridge to harry the Greycloak's escape. Behind them, still another group of the undead creatures prepared to push forward to make the rescue even that much more difficult. In only another ten feet and the enemy would be halfway across. Those two bridges over the river passing by the Keep were a critical point. The priests knew that as well as Jack and Daniel. Another few feet and the enemy would be in position to hold the bridge.
Daniel smiled. Then he pushed a button. An electric pulse was sent out from the top of the tower that had been built especially for SG-1. It was the official "United States Embassy" in Neverwinter lands. It was also the command and control center for all of the electronic surveillance devices SG-1 had deployed in and around the Keep. It was also where the only radio signal broadcast antenna was in all the Realms.
The first bridge exploded into fragmented splinters of wood
.
Garius growled to himself. Didn't those fools know that it was pointless?
He had heard the blast from the first explosion and realized that the trap he had been setting at the second bridge would now be wasted. It was a pity, wiping out the so-called Knight Captain of Crossroads Keep would have demoralized the opposition and saved him a lot of effort. The explosion of the second bridge had taken him completely by surprise. Several of the undead under his command, skeletons for the most part, had already crossed when the Shadow Priests had stepped foot on the structure. They were a little over halfway before that second bridge had exploded.
He hadn't seen the attacker, nor had any of his forces reacted to anything so they had not seen or sensed anything either. An invisible wizard of some sort casting from a distance? Perhaps using a ring or quickened invisibility spell to return to invisibility before being noticed? It was an annoyance, but nothing of any real consequence. Had Garius known about remotely detonated explosives, he might have reconsidered the importance of how the bridges had been destroyed. As it was, he only thought of how he could wipe out the people in the Keep.
The time had come to destroy them. Their bodies would rise again in shadow to serve the King of Shadows by nightfall.
On some level deep inside what was left of his soul and identity, it rankled him that Garius thought only of how all the pawns and pieces he had gained would serve the former Guardian of Illefarn rather than himself. He had thought to manipulate this creature of darkness, this force of the Shadow Weave, knowing its blind devotion to a concept of an Empire that had fallen long ago blinded it to anything else. He had thought to use that blindness to bind the creature to him and take its powers for his own. He had thought it would be a simple thing to use its dark rituals to further his own ambitions.
He had been wrong. Undead wrong.
There was a time when he was called the Master of the Fifth Tower. He had been one of Luskan's up and coming wizards, so much so that he was said to wield almost as much power as one of the four archmages of Luskan Hostower. There was a time when the man had great plans for his future.
No longer. Now, all of his will was bent towards expanding the power and influence of the King of Shadows, accomplishing its goals. Garius retained his identity, but it had been twisted in such a way that his only thought of improving his own status and stature lay bound up in serving his Master. So, he would serve his dark King faithfully, for in that way he could bring a measure of greatness to himself. And Black Garius had always sought the greatness of power. He would not be denied it in life or undeath.
Night had come, but unknown to the defenders in that doomed Keep, his minions had marched tirelessly through the day to reach here. A spell granted him by his connection to the King of Shadows, and thus the Shadow Weave itself, cloaked his forces from the burning rays of the sun that would otherwise have destroyed them in scant moments. Dread Wraiths, wights, and vampires all marched along with the zombies, skeletons, and ghouls that were his to command. His forces would be at their walls in moments.
And the foolish defenders in the Keep were so terribly unaware of the most deadly danger of all: the danger from within. When the time came to protect their walls, their defenses would be undone from the inside. But that delicious moment was yet to come. Now, it was time to unleash mayhem upon the outer walls.
Garius had to give the Neverwinter forces credit for their efforts in rebuilding the ruined fortress. When he had left it, the place had been ruined and impossible to defend. That was certainly part of his ignominious defeat at the hand of the current Knight Captain and hero of Neverwinter. Now, though, the walls were tall and thick, with places for defenders to rain down destruction upon a helpless enemy down below. According to his source within the compound, the underground entrances had been sealed and warded off. Any army attempting to assault this stronghold would take massive losses.
Fortunately for him, one of his great assets was the sheer numbers of undead at his call. The deadly shadows of the Claimed Lands had raised tens of thousands of the former dead into service of the King of Shadows in many forms. It mattered little to either him or his Master if sacrifices were made to obtain his goals. New servants would soon rise up to join in place of those that were lost. And once the army was complete, it would march upon Neverwinter and end the threat of that place to the restoration of the ancient Illefarn Empire. And his new powers.
"Give the order. We attack the city," Garius commanded one of his underlings whom he barely remembered the identity of. Some vampire lord. The creature bowed to him. "Prepare the siege towers."
.
Lord Nasher Alagarond was called from his room by one of the little scamps that had followed Lady Tamil Farlong to her Keep from Neverwinter. Dozens of little beggars who had once plagued the city streets in all but the Blacklake District had suddenly left, and the cries of their orphaned plight no longer pestered passersby. For that, the Lord of Neverwinter was certainly grateful.
The fact that this scamp was now dressed in the livery of a page rather than rags and was now well groomed and washed was a good thing, he supposed, but he was a little affronted that he was being led through the Keep by a former street urchin rather than escorted by at least one of the soldiers, and preferably an officer. Nasher sucked in a breath and exhaled. Since when had he become such a pompous, preening bureaucrat?
Deciding to change that, he looked down at the little rapscallion and decided to start up a conversation.
"So there, lad, what's your name?"
"They call me Wolf, sir."
"Wolf?" Nasher said questioningly, a slight smile touching his face. "That's a quite a strong name for a young boy. Do you bite?"
The young boy looked up with a broad smile. "Hey, you're alright! And I thought you were just a pompous, preening bureaucrat!" he said and Nasher startled. "I only bite if my friends are in danger, sir," Wolf threw in to answer the older man's question. "I protect my own, I do. That's how I got the name."
Nasher had to laugh. The boy had gall. "So, tell me, what do you think of the Knight Captain?"
"Tamil? … er, Lady Farlong?" the boy caught himself. "She's the absolute best!" Wolf was grinning from ear to ear. "Nicest lady in the world. Took me, Dory, and the rest off the streets in Neverwinter and let us come with her when she was made Captain, she did. Even made me an official page. The only people who might be nicer than her are the Americans."
"The Americans?" It took Nasher a minute to realize to whom the boy was referring. He had never heard them referred to as such.
"Yeah. SG-1, you know?"
"You mean, the ambassadors from The United States of America?"
"Right! They are always concerned about how we're treated. The Colonel chews out any soldier who is mean to any of us kids here. And Daniel and Sam, that's Doctor Jackson and Doctor Carter," Wolf added when he noticed Nasher's lack of recognition of their given names, "they take turns teaching us kids reading, writing, and math. Kinda boring, but it's still nice that they try an' teach us."
"Why do you think they spend so much time with you children?" the Lord of Neverwinter asked, intrigued. Lord Nasher had heard from the Many Starred Cloaks that the two of them were both formidable wizards as well as possessing secret knowledge and skill in other areas. He had never heard of anyone of their stature teaching young orphans off the street.
Wolf happily chatted about his favorite people in the whole world. "Daniel says that where they come from, kids like us are looked after. He says it's not perfect, that kids there can have a tough time too, but at least they make sure we all have food, a home, and a school to go to. Sounds great to me."
Lord Nasher nodded thoughtfully. Any concerns he might have had about allying with the United States of America that SG-1 represented had just been squashed. Now he was beginning to wonder about all the possible benefits, other than military aid, that such an alliance might bring to his city.
"Thank you, Wolf. I'm glad Lady Farlong chose to send you to bring down to the courtyard."
.
Bishop watched the soldiers in the Keep scurry around the courtyard as the siege towers Garius was sending approached. He had to admit that they were better than he had expected from a bunch of frightened farmers or deadbeats who had flocked to Tamil Farlong's banner. He almost felt sorry that they were all going to die. They were in a hopeless situation.
The ranger knew it was just a matter of time before the outer walls were breached. There was no way the defenders could hold against such overwhelming numbers, even if the defenders managed to beat off the towers, which he highly doubted. And when that happened, they would all be trapped inside the inner walls with no means of escape. It would just be a matter of time then. That was, for anyone who stayed once the siege set in.
Unlike the rest of his "companions" from Neverwinter, Bishop had no intention of being here when the swarms of undead poured through. He had made arrangements for when this time came. Seeing the towers approaching from the distance, he moved towards the inner gate, ready to slip through the defenders and in order to escape from the massacre.
That was when he noticed a group of greycloaks towing some kind of large metal... thing forward. It was a large metal tube over seven feet in length with a large, square metal base with some odd gears and both vertical and horizontal cranks. It was set on a wagon and being wheeled over into a position facing the direction that the siege engines were coming from. Bishop stared at the pair of large metal contraptions.
The hell?
When had they made this? And what the hell was it supposed to do?
It came as no surprise that the blond haired witch was out there giving orders to the men. She was so smug. Carter. Bishop's thoughts turned sour as he saw the woman directing the activity.
He had tried to woo her and had gotten shot down. Repeatedly. His rough tough-guy charms were completely ineffective with her, and that had led to many embarassing moments. Worse, with his attention divided, his other prey, the "Knight Captain" had only blown him off faster. Just when he thought he might have been getting through to the woman knight, she saw him using the same lines on Carter and had become entirely unapproachable.
So now whenever Samantha Carter was involved in something the ranger felt a bitterness that no amount of rude comments on his part could dispel. The only consolation he had now was that he knew that woman, along with everyone else in the Keep, would be either a rotting corpse or a walking one by the time this day was out. But that didn't stop him from being curious about what they thought they were doing. Shouldn't she be up hurling fireballs at the approaching siege towers?
"What sort of useless contraption is this now?" the ranger asked as he approached the giant mounted tubes. Bishop noticed only end of the tubes were open.
"We call it 'artillery', Bishop. This would be considered a fairly simplistic howitzer," she said with a smile on her mouth and in her eyes that the former Luskan ranger knew to be sparkling with mockery of his comment. "And when you see these 'contraptions' in action, you might start thinking your little arrows and that bow of yours are the useless things." Then with a genuine smirk she added, "But don't take this personally. It's not a question of 'whose is bigger'. We've all got our role to play. Don't we now?"
Bishop scowled, realizing the reference "whose is bigger" was a joke about manhood. He started to walk away grumbling. He hated that woman.
"Oh, you might want to cover your ears!" she said with another one of her annoyingly cheerful smiles, putting an ear muff over her ears.
And then there was a sound like thunder detonating just beside him and fire belched out from the mouth of the large tube. Bishop swore, his ears ringing. He could barely make out Carter's next words.
"...down three and a half degrees. Fire!"
This time, Bishop covered his ears and watched as the second "howitzer" she had called it, blasted out flames identical to the first. This time, the ranger saw dust and debris out from beyond the walls of the Keep. One of the siege towers was down! What in the Hells were these things?
The ranger watched as the team of Greycloaks gathered around the strange weapons opened up a chamber on the huge gun and deposited what looked like some kind of chunk of metal shaped to a point, then re-latched the compartment. That blond woman barked out more orders while she looked into some black lenses she had once told him were "binoculars", used for seeing things at great distances. This time Bishop noticed the men turning cranks and the large tube swiveled and tilted in response.
The weapons continued firing, releasing massive booms of sound and fire, Bishop cursing at the loudness with each concussive blast. Several shots later, and a cheer went up from the wall. The siege towers had all been destroyed. For a moment, the ranger reconsidered his course of action. Without the siege towers it would take Garius and his men considerably longer to breach the outer wall. If it took a full day the defenders might even receive reinforcements from Waterdeep.
Cries of alarm ended any second thoughts he was having. Even from here, he could hear the sound of several fireballs slamming into the outer gate doors. The wood of those doors were thick, true, but there was no way they could withstand repeated magical blasts. It was time to make his move, before the undead army outside trapped him within.
Lieutenant Kana, the Knight Captain's adjunct, gave the order to lower the gates, secure in her belief that the inner iron gate would prevent entry and allow the defenders to punish the enemy from above. Tamil gave orders for her companions to join the defenders up on the walls. As if that would protect them once the enemy was inside the gates. Perhaps some of them would manage to slip over the walls and make a break for the outside, but Bishop doubted anyone would manage to live.
"That's right, stay on the walls. You might survive," Bishop declared. "But that gate of yours won't be coming down. Don't bother trying to repair the gate mechanism. I took a look at it earlier and it was a lot easier to destroy than I thought it would be."
The ranger began backing out the gate. He had made arrangements for his own safe passage out of the battle long ago. And unlike last time, nobody would survive to call him traitor. There wouldn't be a 'Duncan' to come along as when he sold out his entire village and let it burn to the ground. Garius had offered him both safety and money for the role he was to play in Crossroads Keep's destruction, and he wasn't fool enough to turn it down. Let the rest of them burn and die while he walked out of this a free, rich man. Free and rich were important, but he was most keen about the walking out of it part.
The look on the Knight Captain's face was priceless. In fact, they were all looking at him with expressions of disbelief. Fools like them deserved their fates. While his former companions were shouting their parting words, knowing themselves to be doomed, he sprinted away before the press of the undead would arrive. Best to get to Garius's side quickly before any of the vampires got any ideas in their heads.
He took one last look over his shoulders. And of course Carter was there at the gate. She was still smiling smugly. He heard her call out, "Close the iris!" And then he watched in shock as a metal shield closed behind him.
.
The sounds of explosions filled the air and showers of dirt rained down on the undead army. Had they been living soldiers, Garius had no doubt they would have broken and ran. Shattered bones of skeletons littered the ground all around him. Whatever the magic was that the Captain of Crossroads Keep had obtained that allowed her to cause this devastation, it was terribly effective. He could not afford to mass his mindless minions too far away from the walls. Each explosion decimated scores of his minions. The sun was about to rise over his army of uncleanliness, but they wouldn't remain intact long enough to worry about that if they stayed in range of that attack.
Garius's body was now a shadowy skeleton cloaked in a robe woven of pure shadow. His head was but a skull. A skull that glowed and flamed with necromantic power, but just a skull nonetheless. However, in terms of intellect and power, he had not diminished at all. Before the ritual that transformed him into a slave to his dark Master, he had been on the cusp of being considered an archmage. Now, with his former physical frailty turned to strength, he was more powerful than ever. With his connection to the King of Shadows, he felt there was no limit to his powers.
Black Garius had already enlarged the most numerous of his undead soldiers, turning skeletons into Giant Skeletons and zombies into Giant Zombies. Now, he imbued all of his army with a shadowy shield that would cloak them from the power of the sun. Even after the sun rose, the dead would continue the battle to the defenders' despair and horror.
With a single mental command, the Shadow Reaver ordered his army up to the walls. They were now in range of the arrow slits and murder holes, but that was preferable to the explosive power of whatever it was that was taking chunks out of the ground. When the outer gate fell to an onslaught of fireballs from his vampire mage thralls, his minions began to pour through into the Keep's outer courtyard. The Shadow Reaver decided to join them. Garius wanted to see the fools' faces when they realized that their inner gate would not work and the sun would avail them nothing. When they realized that after all their preparation, they had been destroyed from within and forsaken by the light.
Black Garius watched from the rear, behind his large skeletal troops, as his double-agent, the former Luskan killer known as Bishop, ran out from the tunnel leading into the inner courtyard. The iron portcullis would not be coming down, just as planned. But then the ranger stopped and Garius saw to his shock that a great circular metal shield had swung into place behind the iron gate. Impossible!
Surprise was evident on the ranger's face. So, his agent hadn't expected this. He would still pay for his failure, though he had kept his end of the bargain and disabled the iron gate. Garius strode through his forces, the undead parting around him.
"How did this happen?" Garius demanded of the man. "You were supposed to disable the inner door to the Keep!"
"I did disable the gate. They must have added this in while I was away," the ranger said, stating the obvious with a shrug. He had been taken by surprise, but he wasn't about to show much of a reaction.
"I will deal with you later," Garius said. "Return to the rear of the line. I will deal with this obstruction." The Shadow Reaver saw the rebellious expression on the ranger's face, but watched as the ranger followed his commands. He would break the man of his insolence, but for now, he had a more pressing issue.
A trio of female vampire mages, thin and emaciated yet still seductive in their own dark way, teleported in front of the gate. Just as they had with the outer wooden doors, they launched fireballs at the circular doorway. The balls of flames exploded, but the metal shield didn't even get a scratch on it. The vampires attempted to blast it with bolts of lightning, but were similarly ineffective. Following that, dozens of his minions charged forward to slash at the doorway, their weapons clanging loudly against the metal, but otherwise having no effect.
The former "Master of the Fifth Tower" walked through the ranks of his soldiers to inspect the barrier. He ignored the petty stings of arrows and quarrels fired at him through murder holes; he would regenerate from any wound as his Master's power replenished him. His minions, however, were not so lucky and some began to fall while trying to batter through this strange shielding. It was an intricate design, with near-black admantine overlaid with silvery mithral, fit together in spiraling rings. On closer inspection, the Shadow Reaver could make out magical runes scribed over its surface. It was highly resistant to any form of elemental magic. Garius cursed.
Then there was a short, high-pitched sound from all over the courtyard. The Shadow Reaver stepped back to consider what that sound portended when his foot pressed down on something. He immediately pulled his foot back.
Boom.
Garius's form exploded from the force of the explosion. Only the power of the King of Shadows held the creature that was once a man together and reformed him into his uninjured state. Despite being unable to truly feel pain, he felt the impact, and felt himself weaken slightly.
And then explosions began going off throughout the Keep's outer courtyard as his minions moved around in reaction to blasts all around them. His force was rapidly being blown to bits! And that was when the fiery meteors began falling from the sky. Garius looked and snarled. A Meteor Swarm! His eyes would have widened if they weren't just empty sockets. No, three Meteor Swarm spells!
He would have to handle this himself. He could not afford to wait for his minions to overcome the defenses. Nor had treachery served him.
In a flash of light, Garius was inside the Keep, within the inner courtyard. He was surrounded by ranks of soldiers who immediately opened fire on him. He would make these fools suffer.
"You think you can stop me? ME?" Garius cried out. "My master is on the threshold of this world. And while he cannot fully manifest here, his avatar will be more than enough to crush you and your pathetic soldiers!"
A hole opened in reality. What stepped through was a being of nightmare. A Nightwalker. Its entire form was shadow so thick it was denser than iron. Its grip was so powerful it could crush diamond. The towering monstrosity hissed and waved its arms menacingly, looking for its first victim on the material plane. Garius watched in awe and triumph as his master's avatar took a step forward.
"FIRE!" a woman with blond hair called out. The two howitzers in the courtyard blasted the thing at short range. Gaping holes opened on the creature and it collapsed to the ground with a moan.
Garius looked on in utter shock as he saw the woman known as Tamil Farlong, Knight Captain of Crossroads Keep, jump forward with her hand stretching out, as a shimmering silver light coalesced in her hands to form the shape of an exotic sword. And then with a quick step she slashed the blade made up of silver shards through the downed Nightwalker's neck. Its pitch black head fell to the ground and the shadow brute faded back to Plane of Shadow from which it had come.
"Impossible! How can this be?" Garius said in total shock. "The sword was broken! BROKEN!"
Garius was facing defeat. He had to destroy his opponents now or return to his Master in failure. That was not something he would allow. He had to claim victory, and he needed it now.
He unleashed a torrent of magic, throwing fireballs and missile storms around the courtyard. His undead eyes were searching for the threat he knew could disable him. And then the bald headed warlock with glowing tattoos charged out on one side and the plane-walking githzerai he had once captured appeared on the other side. They began chanting his name. His True Name.
Garius shouted a spell towards the githzerai priestess and she froze in place. Garius was taking dozens of hits from missile weapons, but he would recover and regenerate so he ignored them. The Knight Captain charged at him with that glittering sword in hand. The Shadow Reaver could not afford to see if he could heal from wounds of that blade, a weapon that could even injure the King of Shadows. The Reaver stretched his hand forward and a flash of colors blasted out, freezing her in place. Black Garius heard the warlock nearing completion of his True Name. He was out of time.
So with a smile, he unleashed a spell he had prepared for just such an occasion. It was a pre-cast spell, one he need only speak the final syllable of and it would execute. As soon as Garius spoke that final syllable, a massive hand formed around the warlock who thought himself able to stand against his master. The man chocked off in mid-speech, unable to finish what he had started. And now, he, Garius, the right hand of the King of Shadows would—
From a third direction, the recitation of the True Name continued. The Shadow Reaver spun around in shock. There, just beyond the ring of barrels and wagons which had been erected around the entrance to the Keep to serve as a killing ground in case of a breach, was a man with brown hair and blue eyes hidden behind a pair of spectacles. The man he vaguely remembered from the group who had interrupted the ritual that had made him into a Shadow Reaver was staring at him intently as he pronounced the last syllables of Garius's Shadow Reaver True Name.
As soon as the last sound touched the human's lips, Garius felt his connection to the King of Shadows ripped apart. The essence of what he was, his individuality, was laid bare for the world and for him. He was no longer connected to his Master. He was vulnerable! His skeletal eyes would have opened wider in shock and fear if they could as he saw the barrels of the howitzers that had blasted the Nightwalker level at him. He heard the command given to fire.
Black Garius vanished in a flash of light.