Dark Flower III, Ch. 15: Matron's Gambit

[Mikayla]

Dark Flower, Book III

Chapter 15: Matron’s Gambit

Author’s Note: This chapter is a NEW chapter 15; Vendrin correctly pointed out I had a sequence of events backwards, so what I originally posted as Chapter 15 is now (with a few changes) Chapter 16 and a new Chapter 15, this story, has been inserted. Thank you all for your patience.

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Sheyreiza crouched in a dark doorway along a strand in the highest layers of Ched Nasad. Her adopted daughter Faerylene was crouched behind her. Huddled in the next door way down the strand were two Auvryndar wizards and in the next doorway two more. Bodies littered the calcified webbing of the street before them. Sheyreiza peered out of the doorway and looked west. There was a small patrol of Melarn about fifty yards way. From beyond them came screaming, shouting and the ring of metal striking metal. A long, roiling cloud of smoke rolled down the strandway at a leisurely pace, dissipating only slightly as it moved. It was thick enough to sting the eyes and inducing coughing fits, but not so thick as to totally obscure sight. The smoke was not enchanted, though the fires that spawned it had been magical in origin. Unfortunately, in the great cavern that housed Ched Nasad there was no natural wind to dissipate the smoke. The air for Ched Nasad’s population came from permanent portals to the elemental plane of air scattered about the city. Through these portals flowed gentle breezes to soft to disperse the smoke clouds. Instead, the smoke simply rose on hot air until it reached the roof of the great cavern. The cool breezes wafting into the city through the portals swirled around far below the smoke and fire and trapping it all in the upper-layers. Some smoke was making its out of the cavern through various small tunnels and portals, but for the most part, the upper-layers of the city were being turned into a hot, smoky hell. And things were just beginning to heat up.

Qu’ellar Melarn, the house Sheyreiza and her kin believed had gone heretic, was attacking Qu’ellar Nasadra, the highest ranked house in the city. For centuries the rule of Nasadra’s Matron Aunrae was absolutely unquestioned. But the Melarn attack signaled the end of that of that era. The forces of Qu’ellar Melarn had ascended from the layers below with a legion of demons and were now trying to breach Nasadra’s walls. At the fore of this mighty army had been the great black wyrm Shurtallistryl, skillfully wheeling, diving and climbing amidst Ched Nasad’s enormous strandways. With each pass the beast let loose powerful streams of steaming acid that dissolved the calcified webs and stone of Nasadra’s fortress. Its enormous claws raked Nasadran warriors from atop the walls. Their savaged bodies fell into the dark depths below, smashed into the strandways and hung from the ruined webbing of the fortress they defended.

The Nasadra, however, had not maintained their status as Ched Nasad’s first house for a thousand years through sloth, cowardice or ineptitude; they fought back like cornered demons with bolt and spell turning the upper-layers of Ched Nasad into a cauldron of death as dangerous as any layer of the abyss. To stop Shurtallistryl, they unleashed their house’s most formidable scion, the archmage of Ched Nasad himself. Spells of unprecedented power emanated from his hands and staff, tearing through the buildings and webbing of the upper-layers as he dueled with the great black wyrm. Acid, fire, lightening and the cold black of the foulest magics volleyed between the two titanic combatants. A detachment of Melarn priestesses, wizards and warriors separated from the main force to aid the dragon in its fight. Sheyreiza and her murder-team intercepted them. The fighting had been bitter, frantic and fierce. The murder-team had gotten scattered several times in the swirling melee as the dragon and archmage periodically swooped through the battle or unleashed some epic destruction. Time and time again Sheyreiza found herself dodging not only the swords of her enemies, but the plummeting body of the great wyrm or the fiery spells of the Nasadran wizard. Still, Sheyreiza’s team had prevailed over the Melarn reinforcements and in so doing, helped the Nasadran archmage in his fight with the beast. Though Shurtallistryl was mighty, the archmage was mightier, and the dragon was thrown down. Its corpse lay entwined in the ruins of the strandway amidst a tangle of bent and broken stone webbing no more than fifty yards from where Sheyreiza was crouched. The dragon’s death-fall had almost punched through this layer’s calcified webbing. While Sheyreiza had no desire to see her city torn apart, she did wish the dragon’s fall had carried it through to the layer below for the dragon’s corpse was the very object of Sheyreiza’s mission. She was here to retrieve the body and deliver it back to Qu’ellar Auvryndar.

Upon learning of the dragon’s death from Sheyreiza an hour ago, Matron Shyntlara determined to raise the beast as a dracolich, in her service. The first step in the process was to retrieve the body. That was what the four wizards who accompanied Sheyreiza were for; together, they would be able to magically transport the enormous corpse to the main ward of Qu’ellar Auvryndar, or so Matron Shyntlara had said. Sheyreiza was not as confident in the mages’ abilities, but she was not about to disobey orders either. And so it was that she found herself back on the edge of the battle for the second time that cycle, this time to retrieve the body of the wyrm.

From the cover of the doorway, Sheyreiza counted the Melarn in the patrol guarding Shurtallistryl’s corpse; it was a small patrol so far as she could see, led by a single priestess and a wizard. With the main battle still raging in the distance, Sheyreiza decided it was time to make her move. She knew the four wizards were growing increasingly nervous the closer they got to the fighting and to their objective. They were not seasoned mages, inured to the sights, sounds and smells of open battle, they were sneaky young apprentices for whom conflict usually meant internecine intrigue in the dark halls of the wizard tower. Despite Sheyreiza’s obvious prowess and the demonstrated lethality of her team, they were clearly terrified. Sheyreiza feared the young mages were going to balk before they got to the body. Looking back down the street, she signed to the wizards in the next doorway. Gather around me. They passed the sign back to the next group as they had been trained to do and then moved forward. In a moment, all four of the wizards were huddled with Sheyreiza in her dark doorway.

“Now then, understand this.” she said to them before they had even uttered a single protest. “If we do not return with the wyrm’s corpse, none of you will return at all. Do you understand?” The four apprentices nodded in unison. “Good. When I move, you follow. Take up your positions around the beast and I and my team will protect you.”

Sheyreiza scanned the area once more. As quietly as she could, she slipped out from the cover of the doorway and quickly crossed the distance separating her team from the Melarn. She was almost upon them when the Melarn saw her. The warriors formed a hasty wall between Sheyreiza and their leaders. An arrow from Faerylene’s bow shot passed Sheyreiza’s head and lodged in the chest of one of the warriors; a split second later another arrow lodged in his throat. As he fell backwards Sheyreiza went over him and through the shield wall the Melarn had hastily tried to erect. In a heartbeat she was on the wizard, smashing his teeth in with her morningstar. As the man fell Sheyreiza pressed her attack going straight for the female who appeared to be in charge. The younger, less experienced priestess backpedaled, trying to intone a protective spell but she was simply not prepared for the ferocity of Sheyreiza’s assault. The warriors in the sundered Melarn line hesitated, trying to decide whether they should break formation and chase Sheyreiza or stay in formation and try to hold the line against the rest of the oncoming Auvryndar; in the end, they did both and achieved nothing other than splitting their force. In seconds Sheyreiza had the priestess down and she turned on the warriors who now had Sheyreiza on one side and Faerylene with her deadly glowing sword on the other. A few of the men tried to fight, but outflanked, they fell quickly. The others scattered in fear to save their lives. With the Melarn patrol dispersed, Sheyreiza signaled for the wizard-apprentices and the four males took up positions around the dead dragon. They began to chant while the murder-team took up positions around them and waited. Sheyreiza knew the ritual would take a few minutes to perform and this was when they were most vulnerable; the wizards were spread out and unable to defend themselves, and the murder-team was not nearly large enough to form a complete defense around something as large as Shurtallistryl’s body. Sheyreiza opted for a mobile defense, with her people moving about the perimeter. With Sheyreiza went Faerylene, her adopted daughter and apprentice. A minute passed, then another. The chanting continued and the ritual progressed.

Seemingly out of nowhere a lovely but fiendish female form appeared. A moment later it was joined by a second, similar form. Succubi, Sheyreiza thought. She and Faerylene were the closest members of the murder-team to the she-demons and so they attacked. Normally Sheyreiza would be loath to destroy something of such beauty, but the orders of the Matron far outweighed Sheyreiza’s devotion to esthetics. The succubi drew long, wicked daggers and dropped into fighting crouches, hissing at Sheyreiza and Faerylene, but the two beautiful she-demons were just a feint. As Sheyreiza moved in upon them she heard an unseen voice intone a powerful summoning spell. Behind her came a flash of light, a blast of heat and the smell of burning flesh. She swiveled on her heels to find herself facing a true monstrosity; a beast more than twice as tall as a full grown orc with a head reminiscent of the wolves Sheyreiza used to see while living on the surface in Lonelywood. Its long snout was decorated with jagged fangs, and topped with narrow, burning eyes. Four unnatural arms sprouted from its muscular torso; the two upper, larger arms ended in grotesque pincers, while the smaller, lower arms ended in wicked claws. This was, Sheyreiza knew, a Glabrezu demon, one of the more powerful Tanari’i of the abyss and a mighty opponent. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Faerylene dancing in melee with the succubi. Elsewhere, the rest of her murder-team was similarly engaged with a sudden Melarn counter-attack, while the four wizards were deep in the pseudo-trance of their ritual. Sheyreiza would have to fight this beast alone and this demon was a greater opponent than Sheyreiza had ever faced one-on-one. Still, there was nothing to be done but fight or flee, and fleeing was out of the question. Resolving herself to her fate, Sheyreiza let the wicked head of her morningstar swing free and she strode into battle.

The demon lumbered towards her, almost casually. It was making an odd noise, which Sheyreiza surmised was a chuckle of sorts. Apparently the demon was not particularly threatened by her. A huge pincer reached out, almost languidly, to grab Sheyreiza while the other pulled back for a mighty blow. Sheyreiza slipped past the first pincer, ducked under the second one and then whipped the head of her morningstar into the beast’s thick, scaled leg. The demon howled in pain and anger. It stepped back and regarded Sheyreiza with a new fire in its eyes. She pressed forward and struck again. The demon snarled and struck back, its enormous pincers tearing at the mithral of Sheyreiza’s shield and armor. The two began to circle each other, trading blow after blow; Sheyreiza moved quickly and gracefully while the demon moved with power and ferocity. Pincers struck at mithral-armored limbs, while Sheyreiza’s morningstar smashed into demonic flesh. Both cast horridly destructive spells upon one another, completely oblivious to the smaller battles around them. Though tiny in comparison to her opponent, Sheyreiza gave as good as she got. Her morningstar found its mark again and again and again. Demonic ichors flowed from the beasts’ wounds while blood streamed from Sheyreiza’s. Time and time again she had to dance away from the beast to use her healing magic. She downed potion after potion, read scroll after scroll, and used more charges from her wand than she could count. Still the beast came on, roaring in fury and summoning all of its foul magic against her. Blasts of unholy energy and fury pummeled Sheyreiza as her morningstar pummeled the demon. In its rage the beast pounded the webs around her into dust as he tried to crush the diminutive she-elf. Its efforts were for naught; for all its rage, all its strength and all its size, Sheyreiza had the favor of Lolth, the skill and the speed. And that was enough. She forced the beast back, despite her many wounds. The demon’s attacks grew wilder, more desperate. Sheyreiza found her rhythm and that of the beast. In she danced, her deadly morningstar smashing demonic-scales and breaking demonic bones, then out she would dance to heal her own wounds. She came in from the front, then the flanks, then the fore again. The beast flailed at her with all its limbs but it could not stop the onslaught. Sheyreiza began to chant as she fought, “For Lolth!” she cried, “For Lolth!” One of the monster’s legs finally gave out under Sheyreiza’s relentless assault and the beast fell, its torso twisting this way and that, its eyes wide with disbelief and fury. Sheyreiza did not relent; she scrambled in over the falling body of the demon and brought her weapon down upon its head again and again. Black ichors, broken fangs and bloody scales flew as Sheyreiza, now screaming her goddess’s name, brought the demon low. A fire began to grow from within the demon as the beast stopped moving. Sheyreiza backed away and watched a cold-green flame consume the beast from within; she had won, she had destroyed the creature’s material form and sent it back to the abyss from which it came.

She staggered backwards, dizzy and exhausted from the fight, but elated. She had done it; never before had she defeated such a powerful opponent. Truly she was favored by the Goddess. “Malla tlu Lolth!” She cried. “Malla tlu Lolth!” She caught her breath and surveyed the battlefield.

The dragon’s body was gone, and so were the four wizards. For a moment she started to panic, but Faerylene was right there. “The wizards cast their spell” the young Yathrin explained quickly, “we’ve got the dragon’s body.” Sheyreiza could only nod. She looked Faerylene over; her adopted daughter was splattered with gore and bleeding from numerous fine cuts across her skin. The lacerations were angry and welting; no doubt the succubi had coated their blades with some sort of poison. Still, Faerylene had prevailed against her opponents just as Sheyreiza had. Sheyreiza was proud of her; the girl had a lot to learn, but if she could dance with all those succubi and come out the victor, she was a deadly priestess indeed.

Sheyreiza gave the sign for her murder team to gather up and move out. Their objective was complete and it was time to return before the Melarn launched another counter-attack. As the team rallied around, Sheyreiza looked down the strandway that led to the Nasadra gates. Dozens of Melarn warriors could be seen, hiding behind rubble and an improvised siege line. Bolts filled the air, lightening crackled and fire exploded amongst attackers and defenders a like. Sheyreiza had to admit the Melarn attack was a bold move; the Nasadra were traditionally the strongest house in the city and it would take all of the Melarn strength to stand even a slim chance of winning this battle. And that meant there would be few, if any, Melarn held in reserve to guard their own castle. In Savva, it was possible to open the game with a pawn attack that would, after a series of pawn exchanges, threaten the enemies more valuable pieces. The disadvantage was that the opening attack left the attacker’s more valuable pieces exposed as their pawn-coverage moved away. This tactic was called the “Matron’s Gambit.” The defender could “decline” the gambit by digging in and moving to protect the pieces that were under attack or the defender could “accept” the gambit and take the offered sacrifice. In the great game between Melarn and Auvryndar, Melarn had made the first move and it was the Matron’s Gambit. The question now was how would Auvryndar respond; to decline or to accept? Defense or offense. That was the choice now facing Matron Shyntlara.

“Yathtallar?” Faerylene asked. Sheyreiza realized she had been lost in thought watching the Melarn carry on their attack. She nodded to the young Yathrin and signed for the rest of the team to follow. It was time to return to Qu’ellar Auvryndar and see what move the Matron was going to make.

[Vendrin]

Heh. I wonder if I should throw a Pit Fiend at shey next.

[Mikayla]

Me and my big mouth.

[Zakharra]

I remember that fight. It was nasty. Fighting two succubi and a Glabrezu, just the two of us. I can't remember how many times I nearly died. Those succubi hit bloody hard.